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bloodfromthethorn · 4 months

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Dealing with a Devil

When taking down Yurgir doesn't quite go as planned, Raevan finds herself making a great many more deals than she's comfortable with. Gods damn it, all she'd been trying to do was keep Astarion safe.

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It was almost ironic; after a week of spending every second terrified that Ketheric Thorm was going to be her undoing, Raevan was going to get squished flat by some third-rate demon in the shrine of a goddess she didn’t even worship. A month ago, the biggest problem she ever had to deal with was the occasional rogue phase spider. Now she was knee-deep in blood, surrounded by more merregons than she’d been able to count and utterly desperate to save her friends.

Shadowheart was a few feet away, slumped back against a pile of rubble. The only sign she was still alive was the barely perceptible rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Further afield, Astarion and Karlach were little more than bloodied smears against the stone, both too far away for Raevan to spy any signs of life.

And still the gods damned Orthon refused to die.

Raevan had tried every trick she knew, every dodge, every slice. No matter what damage she inflicted on the beast, he simply wouldn’t give it up. It felt like they’d been fighting for hours and all she had to show for it was a pile of merregon corpses and more blood on the ground than she’d ever wanted to see.

With a hoarse yell of frustration, she ducked beneath the wide arc of a swinging blade and lunged forward to drive her rapier through yet another merregon’s heart. The creature gurgled, black blood spurting from its mouth and chest, but blessedly fell and went still when Raevan twisted to free her blade. Most likely dead, but she’d settle for unconscious if it kept the damn thing out of her way.

That just left two more of the baatezu and the Orthon, towering over all of them with a snarl of rage. If nothing else, Raevan could take pride in knowing she’d made the bastard work for every inch he’d won; like her, he was drenched in blood both his own and foreign, and the vicious strength he’d started the battle with had long since drained into flat, exhausted rage. They were both on their last legs – this ended now, no matter what.

She knew she couldn’t win. Somewhere deep inside, she knew that if she kept fighting, they’d both die here. It was innate, in a way she couldn’t entirely put her finger on. Instinct, perhaps. The honed senses of her decades in the wilds hunting all manner of creatures to their ends bringing her just close enough to the veil of death that she could feel it now like a familiar friend. Whatever it was, she knew. She was going to die down here.

After the last couple of weeks, her death was hardly a surprise to her even if she hadn’t anticipated this exact scenario. She’d made her peace with her own mortality from the second the damned tadpole had eaten through her eye socket and she wasn’t going to fall apart over it now. What she couldn’t stand, though, was taking her friends with her. Karlach. Shadowheart.

Astarion.

Even if she couldn’t save herself, she had to save them.

“Yurgir!” She yelled, her voice unrecognisable through her burning throat. “We can stop this!”

The beast bared his teeth at her, weapons grown too heavy under his fatigue shifting listlessly. Still, he didn’t immediately sneer at her, so maybe he’d come to the same realisation.

“We’re evenly matched,” she continued, breathing hard and praying to several gods she didn’t worship that this somehow worked. “If we continue on this path, we’ll both die here.”

“You think you can kill me, little elf? Pah.” The words were mocking, but the creature’s voice was nothing like the authoritative boom it had been when they’d arrived. “You’re as gutless as your master.”

“Raphael is not my master. And to the hells with him. I’m not dying for his petty grudge against you.”

Yurgir’s expression morphed into one of pure hate at the sound of the name, but the lack of an immediate attack was telling. In his shadow, the two remaining merregons looked uneasily between the two of them. They didn’t look like they wanted to be there any more than Raevan did.

“I’ll make you a deal. You walk away, right now. Find some other pit in this gods forsaken place to lick your wounds in peace until our business here is done. I won’t hunt you down and you’ll stay out of our way. Sound like plan?” She fought to keep her fear off her face. If the devil said no, then they were all done for.

Fortunately for all of them, the devil actually seemed to consider her words. His glowing eyes flicked from her fallen companions, to his lifeless minions, to the myriad of injuries now adorning his own skin. It was clear he recognised the truth of what she was saying. “You think I would trust you,” he spat eventually.

She grit her teeth. “I swear to you, I’ll leave you in peace. I’m not interested in risking my friends just to take you down. I didn’t come here for you, and I sure as shit didn’t come down here for Raphael. All I want is to finish my business with Balthazar and walk out of here alive. Please.”

It was a risk. Begging was a sign of weakness, a nod to her own desperation, but it might be what it took to convince him that she was telling the truth. Because she was telling the truth. Astarion’s deal with Raphael was his own business, and while Raevan had long since promised to help Astarion with whatever he required, she wasn’t going to enable him to throw all their lives away for a deal Raphael would probably try to weasel out of anyway. If Yurgir walked away now, she wouldn’t follow him.

Anything, so long as the others lived. It could already be too late and they didn’t have time for this.

“Yurgir,” she said again, desperate. “Please. Let us end this.”

For the first time in what felt like months, something finally went her way. The demon growled wordlessly, his eyes making one final circuit of the carnage around them before he gave a single, sharp nod. “If I see you again,” he warned coldly, “You die.”

“Same to you,” she shot back, showing her teeth. She was just barely managing to stay on her feet; she needed him gone.

He didn’t draw out his farewell at least. His parting threat lingering in the air, he and the merregons turned sharply and made for the exit, the Orthon trampling a few of his supposed comrades’ corpses on the way. Raevan, drained down to her very last nerve, did her best to block out the squelching sounds until the three of them rounded the corner and vanished from sight. As soon as they did, she didn’t even give herself time to suck in a breath – she was already crossing to Shadowheart’s side and tipping a potion down her throat.

The half-elf spluttered, coming awake only to find her throat full of a bitter healing draft, but she caught up to the situation quickly and started gulping it down. Reassured she could handle herself from there, Raevan forced herself back to her feet and swallowed a groan as all of her joints protested in sequence even as she raced to Karlach’s sprawled body. Finding a pulse cost her a few burnt fingers, but it was worth it to feel a steady, pounding drum beneath her scorching skin.

Knowing she was alive was enough – Shadowheart should still have some healing spells on hand – so Raevan left the two of them to it and skidded over to slide in at Astarion’s side. For a long, stupid minute, she jabbed at his neck for a pulse only to realise she wasn’t going to find anything. Vampire, she reminded herself sharply. Of course.

Briefly, black panic pulled down over her eyes and it took a few carefully controlled breaths before she was able to battle it back and properly assess the situation. A glance over her shoulder found Shadowheart dutifully bent over Karlach, hands alight with magic; no help from that corner then. Heart pounding in her chest, Raevan fished in her pouch for another potion, wincing as she selected one of the weaker ones. She wanted to do everything she could to help Astarion, but there was no purpose in wasting her strongest concoctions if he’d already passed on.

She bit back a whimper as that thought shocked through her, but she didn’t let it slow her hands as she carefully unstoppered the vial and tipped it to Astarion’s lips.

No response.

“Astarion,” she hissed, voice almost gone. “You do not get to do this. Not to me. Drink, damn you!”

The last traces of the potion dripped from the vial, leaving a faint red smear on his bottom lip.

“We did not go through all of this for you to give up now,” she snapped, her hand subconsciously finding its way to his shoulder and squeezing hard. Still, nothing.

It wasn’t until she reached for another, stronger potion in sheer desperation that the frozen moment was shattered by a weak cough, followed by an even fainter groan.

“Asterion,” she breathed stupidly, momentarily overcome with sheer relief. Then, she remembered just how badly he was likely hurt, and fished out the potion she’d been reaching for. This time when she held the glass to his lips, she was rewarded by a feeble attempt at swallowing the bitter liquid within.

It took approximately five seconds for Astarion’s exhausted, pained silence to tip Raevan’s wavering composure directly off a cliff. In its place, she reached for frustration. “You absolute bastard,” she announced in a breezy tone like they’d been mid-conversation and this was an entirely normal response to something he’d said or done. “I told you that no one was dying today. And what did you do? Jump directly into a circle of merregons like you’re invincible and they weren’t carrying blades as long as your arm.”

Slowly, a single crimson eye cracked open to peer at her. “Did we win?” He croaked. Gods, he sounded wrecked.

“We’re all still alive,” she said sardonically.

His marble brow creased, an exhausted frown taking over the blank slump of unconsciousness. Apparently whatever wounds he’d sustained hadn’t impacted his uncanny ability to smell Raevan’s bullshit at the drop of a hat. “The demon?”

Her mouth twisted. She didn’t want to lie to him, but it wasn’t like telling him that she’d crushed his one chance at understanding his scars would be well received. In the panic of trying to establish if everyone was alive, she hadn’t stopped to consider what she’d actually tell him about her little deal with Yurgir. Surely not the full truth? He’d slit her throat for what she’d done.

The hesitation must have shown in her face, because Astarion’s exhaustion was rapidly fading behind irritation. Both eyes were on her now, even as he tried to scramble up to sitting despite his total lack of coordination; in all their time together, Raevan had never seen him so without grace. He must really be down to his very last reserves.

“Raevan,” he snapped, eyes flinty, “What happened to the Orthon?”

“He’s gone,” she managed. Her throat threatened to snap closed at even that much, even though it was true. “He ran off. I don’t know where he is now.”

“He’s still alive?”

Raevan drew her mouth tight, trying to keep most of her annoyance off her face and knowing even as she did so that she wouldn’t succeed. Astarion wasn’t wrong to be upset, but he didn’t know that – so far as he should be aware, they’d simply lost the fight. He didn’t know this was her fault.

“I’m sorry,” she tried. “I know this’ll break your deal, but there was nothing I could do. He nearly killed us all.” The evidence of it was all around them, only further backed up by the wavering figures of Shadowheart and Karlach, now both at least semi-conscious and openly watching them from a distance in mute concern.

It didn’t seem to matter. Astarion’s expression crumpled down further and he fought to get himself back upright. It took a lot of effort and it was a far cry from the elegance he usually exuded, but as soon as he had his feet back under him, he was in Raevan’s face with an expression like thunder. “You let him get away?”

“Astarion–”

“You said you had a plan for that hellsbeast. You said we’d kill him!” He snapped, voice growing louder with each passing second. Raevan had never known a health potion to restore someone so completely so quickly. Evidently his rage was carrying him through the weakness he must surely still be feeling. She quaked a little in the face of it.

“Astarion, I tried-,” she cut in, desperately trying to hold onto her own rising anger at the accusation being hurled at her. Gods damn it, she’d been trying to save them. What other option could she have chosen?

“Well, you've done a fine job. Truly, phenomenal work,” he sneered. His face was twisted into a scowl, the angriest she’d ever seen him. “Now the Orthon’s free to traipse back to the shadows, and I’m left with nothing. No information about my scars, no leads on where to turn now, and no idea why I’m wasting my time with you!”

The booming words echoed sharply in the empty space around them, mocking the immediate stillness that fell over the entire scene. He was so angry, Raevan expected him to be heaving with it, but he was instead unnaturally still. That more than anything revealed just how upset he really was; Astarion only forgot to ape the motions of living beings when he was severely injured or incredibly angry. Right now, he wasn’t even bothering to breathe.

For a long, humiliating second, Raevan found herself completely unable to do anything but stare at him in hurt surprise. The venom in Astarion’s voice was unmistakable – their… companionship, such as it was, might have been relatively new and a little shaky, but she hadn’t realised he was still capable of harbouring that much bitterness for her out of nowhere. Had he been storing it up in secret all this time?

“Fangs,” she heard Karlach hiss quietly in taken-aback censure.

It was enough to shock Raevan back into action. She forced herself to take a deep, level breath and firmly willed away the tears that had threatened to spring up behind her eyes. She wasn’t going to cry like a child being scolded just because Astarion couldn’t see that the fight had already been lost twenty minutes ago.

“That’s not fair,” she said quietly, firm. “We weren’t prepared for so many enemies, and alright, you can blame me for that, but Astarion, it isn’t like I wanted us to fail. I did everything I could.”

He bared his teeth, ire not quieted in the slightest. “Do you have any idea what you’ve taken from me? My chance to know what Cazador did to me? What he has planned for me?!”

“I know that!” Raevan snapped back. For the first time it occurred to her that maybe Astarion wasn’t so much angry as he was scared, now that he couldn’t gain that little edge over his former master. Raevan could sympathise; she wasn’t thrilled about the idea of going up against a vampire lord with no insider information either. In that light, Astarion’s biting rage was a little easier to swallow. “Look, this changes nothing. We didn’t have any information about Cazador’s plans before, and we still don’t. Raphael’s deal would have helped, but we all agreed to help you anyway. Nothing’s changed.”

Astarion growled at her, apparently too angry to speak for a second. “That wasn’t something for you to decide,” he hissed eventually, lips curled into a sneer. “You had no right.”

She briefly considered asking him what decision he thought she’d possibly made – with the way things had happened, she’d had no choice at all. Somehow, she knew it didn’t matter regardless. Astarion needed someone to blame and she was the closest person available. Nothing else she said would matter.

In the face of that, she could only be practical. “We’re all exhausted,” she announced needlessly to the room at large, turning a little to invite Shadowheart and Karlach into the conversation where they’d otherwise stayed at the sidelines. They were both watching them with unconcealed wariness. “There’s no point pressing on now and risking running into this Balthazar person, not without taking a minute to reorientate. I vote we head back to Moonrise, restock our potions and get some rest, then head back here tomorrow. Any complaints?”

It could scarcely have been noon – certainly far too early for them to normally be calling it for the day – but they’d already endured a couple of hard fights in a row and the last had nearly killed them. Selfishly, Raevan wanted a couple of hours to try to process that before she was forced to wade into another battle she was almost certain they’d lose.

In the first fortunate turn of events for the day, no one disagreed. Even Astarion, visibly chafing to race off into the tomb in search of the Orthon, barely grimaced before falling in line with the others and preparing himself to leave. Silently, Raevan breathed a sigh of relief. His anger she could deal with; if he’d decided to break their bond entirely to head off on his own now, she had no idea what she would have done. Something stupid, no doubt.

The trek out of the tomb was easier than the one in thanks to the newly-disarmed traps and slaughtered guards. It was dusty and dark and uninviting, but no more than that and Raevan was again sighing in relief. Perhaps the fates weren’t entirely set on grinding her beneath their palm that day.

Reithwin Town remained uninviting as ever, of course. They were briefly stalled by a couple of shadow creatures looming out of the mirk, but they were nothing against the battles they’d already fought that day and didn’t delay them long. Still, the fight worried Raevan; Astarion battled as fiercely and skillfully as ever, but the ferocity with which he sank his daggers into the creatures’ flesh was on a level she’d never seen from him before. For the first time in their acquaintance, she thought she might understand the rabbit heart fear talked about in those bedtime stories of vampires designed to terrifying little children.

Before they’d stumbled across the shadows, she’d considered trying to strike up a conversation to drive away the oppressive silence that had fallen over them since Astarion’s outburst. Now, having glimpsed the rage still burning bright within him, she didn’t dare utter a word. She just wiped off her own blade, and pointed herself back towards Moorise.

They were, thankfully, able to resupply successfully at Moonrise, but it hardly felt like a victory when Raevan was walking away from a truly vile encounter with one Araj Oblodra. Everything about the drow unsettled her, from her glistening red eyes to the quiet malice in her voice, but all of it paled in comparison to her treatment of Astarion. Hearing her talk about him belonging to anyone, let alone Raevan, felt like being hit. She couldn’t even begin to think what it had felt like to him.

And, selfishly, that hadn’t even been the worst part. No, that had been when she’d immediately backed up Astarion’s refusal to drink the woman’s blood, no questions asked, and he’d looked at her in open surprise, like he’d expected her to try convincing him otherwise. As if some promised potion could possibly be more important to her than Astarion’s consent. As if she’d ever ask him to use his body for her own personal gain against his will.

He really thought that little of her.

Knowing that… it hurt. A lot. More than his earlier vitriol, more than perhaps anything else she’d ever felt. She’d known he was angry but after everything they’d been through together, she hadn’t realised that would be enough to completely diminish her in his eyes. She’d thought they were friends. She’d even hoped they might be becoming more than that and he’d certainly given the impression of the same.

She felt so godsdamned stupid.

Clearly whatever she’d imagined between them had been no more than mutual necessity and a byproduct of the natural charm Astarion practically threw at anyone he came into contact with. She wasn’t special; she’d simply been someone whose help he’d needed. And now, when she’d wholly failed to fulfill her end of the bargain and help him with Raphael’s deal, he was no longer going to waste energy on her. Wasting his time indeed.

Her original plan had been for them to beg some free beds at Moonrise to save them traipsing all the way back to camp, but in the end her desire to put distance between them and Oblodra overruled her fatigue. None of the others seemed bothered by the decision; indeed, Shadowheart and Astarion both looked faintly relieved at the pronouncement, which rather sealed the matter.

Still, it meant that when Raevan finally did find herself within reach of a fire and her bedroll, she was nearly dropping in exhaustion. It wasn’t even late – it probably wasn't even dusk yet. Turning in for the night already felt infantile, even though she knew she had every reason to be tired.

Foolish, stubborn pride forced her on regardless. If she couldn’t sleep yet, she needed something to keep her hands busy and her eyes open; she’d keel over where she sat otherwise. With that goal in mind, she snatched up the bundle of clothing she’d been putting off washing for three days and marched determinedly down to the riverbank.

Of course, it was only once she was kneeling down in the mud and the reeds that she realised she’d entirely forgotten the soap bar sitting ready and waiting on the stool beside the fire. And, because absolutely nothing that day was willing to let her escape with any tiny amount of dignity, it was that of all things that finally tipped her over the edge. Alone, surrounded by dirty washing, she put her face in her hands and wept.

That was how Karlach found her several minutes later, her cheery “Hey, I think you forgot this,” trailing off awkwardly into the still air when she took in Raevan’s hunched form. A second later, there was a steady wave of heat beside her and she glanced up to see Karlach looking at her with concern written in every line of her face. The soap bar Raevan had forgotten was pinched carefully between two fingertips.

“Are you alright?” She asked lowly.

Raevan sniffed. “It’s… been a long day.”

“And a shit one at that,” she agreed readily. “How are you doing?”

How she was doing was crying on a riverbank, covered in mud; it was pretty apparent that the answer was ‘not well.’ Still, that wasn’t really the question Karlach was asking, so Raevan gave her the answer she was looking for. “I’ll be fine by the morning, I promise. I’m just… a bit overwhelmed, I think.”

Karlach made a face at her. “I’m not worried about the morning, idiot. I’m worried about you .” She paused, chewing on her lip indecisively before she visibly thought fuck it and added, “This is about Astarion, isn’t it?”

For a moment she considered denying it, but what would be the point? Karlach had been there in the tomb, she’d heard what was said. Given that all of their motley crew was well aware of her ill-advised dalliance with their resident vampire, it hardly took a great amount of effort to make the leap that she might be ever so slightly upset by the earlier altercation. Karlach had always been canny about such things. Half the time she seemed to be able to read Raevan’s emotions better than she could herself.

“Yes,” she admitted simply, after too long a pause.

“He shouldn’t have said what he did. You didn’t deserve it.”

“He was upset.”

“That’s not a damn excuse.”

Raevan dropped her gaze to her own lap, cowed. “No. It isn’t.”

Needing to do something with her hands lest she really lose her grip on the moment, Raevan carefully plucked the slightly melted soap from Karlach’s hand and started trying to get the bloodstains out of one of her shirts.

Karlach was watching her closely. “He didn’t really mean it, you know? He might have thought he did, in the moment, but he knows better than that when he’s not throwing a tantrum.”

It was perhaps an unfair reading of Astarion’s entirely righteous frustration, but Raevan let it pass without comment. “He wasn’t exactly wrong though, was he? It was a waste of time. We didn’t kill the Orthon, the deal’s broken. We all nearly died for nothing.”

“That’s not the point. And besides, none of that was your fault. It was a fight we couldn’t win, so what? Honestly, it’s only surprising that it’s taken us this long to come across one.”

Raevan offered her a bleak smile. “Don’t tell me you’ve not got any faith in us either.”

She rolled her eyes, exaggeratedly flopping back onto her elbows. “I’m not going to keep trying to make you feel better if twist everything I say,” she scolded. “C’mon. Talking things out usually helps. Tell me what’s really going on. I’ve seen all kinds of people say way worse stuff to you than what Fangs did and you’ve never even blinked.”

It wasn’t the kind of thing Raevan could talk about while holding eye contact. Instead, she kept her eyes on her washing and tried to pin down just why she was so upset. Karlach was right; she was normally stronger than this.

“I think it was mostly… the person saying it. More than what was being said.”

Karlach nodded easily. “Well, yeah. You love him. Of course it sucked.”

Raevan startled, her head darting up to stare at her. “Uh– No. That’s not–”

The tiefling snorted. “Hey, come on, we’re being honest with each other right now, aren’t we?” There was a strained pause where Raevan utterly failed to find a sufficient response before Karlach sighed and rolled her eyes again. “Okay, so maybe you haven’t reached the whole ‘love’ thing just yet. I wouldn’t know. But… you care about him, right?”

Still not quite sure she could speak, Raevan nodded once.

“Right. So given that you’re… whatever the two of you are to each other, you’re going to be upset when he’s angry with you. Even if he was completely out of line and taking something out on you that absolutely wasn’t your fault.”

“It kind of was my fault,” she said. “It was my plan after all.”

Karlach grumbled at her. “Things were a bit hazy for me for a while there, but I’m pretty sure I heard Shadowheart saying you were the only one left standing after that particular dance. If anyone’s to blame, it’s hardly going to be the one person who didn’t lose the fight.”

“Yeah, I was just the one who completely failed to kill the Orthon when everyone else was incapacitated. Way to go me.”

“Gods, let it go, Rae. We lost, that’s all there is to it. Why aren’t you sitting there blaming the rest of us for leaving to fend for yourself?”

Raevan frowned at her, taken aback by the ludicrous suggestion. “I’m not going to blame anyone for almost dying.”

“Then why are you blaming yourself for being the one who saved us?”

She… hadn’t thought about it like that. Or, at least, she had thought that when she’d first done it, when she’d begged with the Orthon and sacrificed Raphael’s deal to keep her friends alive, but somewhere along the way she’d lost sight of that. All she’d been able to hear for the last few hours was Astarion’s voice echoing in her ears, telling her she was a failure, a waste of his time. A waste of everyone’s time. For a moment, she’d let that pain blind her to the facts of the situation – facts that only she knew.

“Okay,” she said quietly, gaze fixed on her washing. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologise to me, soldier. I just want you to be alright.”

“I am. Or, I will be. Ugh, I’m a mess.”

Karlach hummed, thoughtful. “Did something else happen? You didn’t seem this upset earlier.”

Hells damn Karlach’s ability to see right through her. How was she ever supposed to keep her broken heart to herself when she had someone right there able to march past her defences without even trying? She was tempted not to respond, but it hardly felt fair to shut her out now; Karlach was only trying to help. Besides, maybe letting it out really was for the best.

“It’s nothing. Not really. Just– You know that drow?”

“The bitch who treated Astarion like a piece of meat? Yeah, hard to forget that one.”

“Yeah. It’s selfish – it’s horrible – but… when we were speaking to her and I defended Astarion, he looked at me like… Like he was… surprised? Like he really didn’t have any faith I wasn’t going to treat him just as badly as she was.” Raevan felt herself welling up against just thinking about that godsdamned look on his face and she forced herself to swallow it all back down. “I don’t know. I know it’s not fair of me, but I just feel– Well. Awful, mostly.”

There was no immediate response and Raevan still couldn’t bring herself to look up from the water, so she just barrelled on, letting the words pour out of her like lancing infection from a wound. “We’ve not really put a name to… whatever it is that we are. Honestly, half the time I’m not even sure if he likes me all that much or if I just happen to be the nearest willing warm body, but I thought that by now… he’d know the kind of person I am? At least enough to know that I would never force him to bite someone he didn’t want to.” She closed her eyes, pulling in a shaky breath. “Does everyone really think I’m that terrible?”

There was a brief, tense pause. Then, “Fuck him,” Karlach said with surprising vehemence. Raevan blinked. “That’s bullshit Rae. No one should make you feel like that. And no, of course no one fucking thinks that, are you serious? Everyone we meet can’t sing enough of your praises. Half the camp would jump at the chance to have you look at them the way you look at Astarion and the other half only wouldn’t because they think they’re not good enough for you. Gods, Raevan.”

A smouldering hand reached out as if to grip her shoulder, but she caught herself before she made contact and pulled back. She blew out a fierce breath, the flames around her shoulders blazing bright with the force of her anger. “Look, I’m not ever going to try to tell Fangs how he should handle all of his shit. He’s been through things I don’t even want to imagine and I can’t pretend I understand. But that doesn’t give him the right to make you feel like that.” She huffed. “Gods damn it. Fuck him.”

Raevan raised an eyebrow at her. “I already did, remember? That's kind of the problem.”

The tiefling just shot her an unimpressed look. As far as Raevan’s deflections went, it was pretty weak but she'd hoped to at least get a laugh. In the face of Karlach’s almost sympathetic total lack of humour, Raevan felt herself shrink again. Despite everything, Karlach’s immediate rejection of her question did make her feel a tiny bit better, but it didn’t solve the fact that the one person whose opinion mattered most had made it clear how little he thought of her.

“Honestly, I can't even be angry with him,” she admitted lowly when it was clear Karlach wasn't going to rise to her jibe. “I know how much that deal meant to him. Killing the Orthon was the one thing he's ever genuinely asked of me and I let him down.”

“You didn't let anyone down,” was the firm response. There was no room in Karlach’s voice for disagreement; she seemed enraged at the mere suggestion. “We’ve been over this. If anyone’s responsible for how it went down with the Orthon, it's me. I’m the one who’s spent years fighting demons. I should have been the one taking the hits, not Astarion. Once he and Shadowheart were out, it was a losing battle and I knew it.”

It was the wholly undeserved self-depreciation that finally knocked Raevan out of her spiral. Her chest flooded warm, torn between frustration at the tiefling for unduly criticising herself and overwhelming affection for probably the best friend she'd ever had in her life. Fortunately, her response to both was the same: she offered a quick “Bear with me,” dunked the cloak in her hands into the river to saturate it, then in one single motion wrapped both it and her arms tight around Karlach’s shoulders. She only held her for a second, wincing a little as the heat of her blazed against the exposed skin of her face and neck, before she pulled back and thrust the now-smouldering cloak back into the river.

Karlach was left frozen in surprise, staring at Raevan like she’d never seen her before. Steam rose off her shoulders.

“I love you,” Raevan said off-handedly into the sudden quiet. “Thank you. And what happened wasn’t your fault, not at all. If I’m not allowed to blame myself for it, then you certainly aren’t either. Maybe we should all just chalk it up to shit luck and agree to be better prepared next time.”

It took Karlach another few heartbeats to recover herself, but then she snorted. “I’ll take that deal. Especially if it means more hugs in my future.”

Raevan grinned at her. “Gale and Wyll said they’re going to try to find that infernal iron Dammon was talking about tomorrow. As soon as they do, we’ll get that engine of yours patched up and you can have as many hugs as you like.”

“You’ll regret that promise,” she said, laughing. Her eyes shone.

Quietly, with a sort of desperation that ached, Raevan swore that she wouldn’t let Karlach down the same way she’d failed Astarion. She hadn’t been able to unlock his scars, but she was damned if she wasn’t going to find a way to give Karlach her own skin back. If Dammon couldn’t help, she’d find someone who could. She wouldn’t rest until that brightness in Karlach’s eyes stopped fading when she remembered her inability to reach out and touch. If she achieved nothing else, Raevan would do that.

“I doubt that,” she said, smiling. “And thank you. I mean it. I… I really needed this.”

“Any time, soldier.” She smiled at her, warm and close and so, so gentle. “Fangs might have forgotten himself, but I haven’t. I’m with you. Whatever you need.”

Buoyed by her spirit, Raevan found the strength to grin. “I don’t suppose that means you want to help me with this washing, do you?”

“That depends. How upset would you be if I burned a hole through your pants?”

Raevan hadn’t realised how badly she needed to spend some time just hanging out with a friend until she was packing away the last of her now clean laundry and she noticed that her whole body felt looser. Shoulders that had spent weeks crowding up around her ears had finally fallen slack again, and muscles that had started to ache with fatigue had at last unclenched. She was still exhausted and drained, but for the first time in weeks, she thought she might actually be able to put her head down and get some real rest.

Except for one small matter that wouldn’t stop bouncing around her head.

It was stupid – an unjustifiable risk and highly likely to backfire on her, or worse, her companions. All the same, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Ever since Karlach had joked about their so-called deal to stop blaming themselves, an old worry half-forgotten had stirred in the back of her mind and, with a neatness that was impossible to ignore, found its solution. The only problem was that solution was… Raphael. As if she hadn’t had more than enough of his smarmy, condescending bullshit for the week.

There was also the small matter of whether or not she should interfere with something that was so wholly not her business. She knew what Astarion would say – wasting my time was still echoing loudly between her ears – but maybe that wasn’t enough to justify not doing it.

In the end, she found the whys and wherefores rather irrelevant – when she lay herself down to go to sleep, the one thing she’d been craving for hours, she discovered that she wasn’t going to get a moment’s rest unless she acted. It was foolhardy and she knew she shouldn’t make decisions when she was so tired, but nonetheless she found herself shimmying out of her bedroll, creeping out of camp where Lae’zel, on watch, wouldn’t see, and marching determinedly out into the wilderness.

With the Shadow Curse still thick in the air it was almost pitch black beyond the ring of firelight, but she didn’t dare light a torch until she was some distance away. Instead she navigated by touch, wincing as her ankles threatened to turn on every hidden tree root and stone, until she was sure there were enough trees between her and the others to mask a small flame. Even alight, the shadows sucked greedily at the flames; all she could manage was a small ring of dimly illuminated foliage.

It would have to do. She wasn’t going back to get something more substantial.

It occurred to her only then that she had no idea what to do. She’d never had to summon Raphael before; every time they’d spoken, it had been because he’d appeared by his own volition, usually at the most inopportune times. She had a sneaking suspicion he was doing it intentionally.

Well, if nothing else, that tended to imply he was often listening.

“Raphael,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “I know you’re out there. I need to speak to you.”

Nothing. The frigid air didn’t even stir in a breeze.

“Raphael,” she called again through gritted teeth. “I want to make a deal. I promise it’s worth your while.”

Silence.

“Gods damn you, Raphael. I know you can hear me. Do you want a deal or not?”

Still no response. For a long second Raevan held still, barely breathing as she silently hoped–

The flash of light was so bright it momentarily blinded her, the wash of accompanying heat so scalding in the cool evening that the skin of her face lit up in pain. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of sulphur while she waited for her vision to clear.

“What an absolute delight this is!” His wide, sharp smile was the first thing she saw, before her eyes finally adjusted and she was able to pick out the rest of his features through the gloom. Even in shadows, his spotless clothes seemed to shine. “I must say, my dear, you continue to surprise me. Of all the things I had expected from you, a clandestine summoning was hardly even on the list.”

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “This is hardly clandestine,” she said drily. “I just didn’t want to wake anyone else up.”

“Ah, of course, that is why you slipped away so silently from your companions. I thought you looked like you were trying to go unnoticed, but alas, it was mere consideration for their rest.”

“Were you watching me?” A thrill of fear jolted through her chest. She’d figured that Raphael must have them under some level of surveillance, but she hadn’t anticipated the man himself hanging out in some random bit of foliage on an otherwise uneventful evening. Surely he had better things to do.

“Why would I not when you continue to offer such scintillating entertainment?” His voice dropped low and seductive and she forced herself not to curl her lip at him. Mercifully for her composure, he only kept the act up for a second or two before he got to business. “Now, I believe you have a deal to offer me? How novel. I trust you already know that the pact I offered to Astarion cannot be repeated. He had his chance; I shall not grant a second.”

She had already known it really, but hearing it confirmed was still somehow a disappointment. Although, perhaps it was for the best; if Raevan was honest with herself, she knew she’d probably have jumped at whatever unfair terms Raphael offered for the chance to correct her mistake, to hell with the consequences. Sometimes, her… affection for Astarion made her so gods damned stupid.

“I know that,” she said. “That’s not what I want.”

“Oh? Then please, by all means. Whatever could the mysterious Raevan Ashguard want with my fine self?”

She took a deep breath. Last chance to back out. There’d be no going back once she agreed to a deal and if she misjudged things… She might just make a bad situation worse. She shouldn’t be doing this. And yet–

She had to.

“You knew about Astarion’s scars,” she pointed out unnecessarily. “And as someone who clearly enjoys inserting himself into the affairs of us mere mortals, it stands to reason that you’d be pretty familiar with the various Patriars of Baldur’s Gate. Especially any with an inclination towards the infernal.”

Raphael hummed, smug. “You’re asking if I know Astarion’s master.”

“Former master,” she corrected sharply. “And no. I’m saying that Cazador Szarr is both too old and too powerful for you not to have had at least some dealing with him in the past. What I’m asking is whether or not you’re still in contact with him.”

The devil’s eyes were sharp, but everything else about him exuded a kind of confidence that made him almost impossible to read. Raevan had the impression that there was very little she could say or do that would be enough to make his mask slip. “I do rather suspect that is my business and not yours.”

“It’s mine if you’re passing him information about us. About Astarion.”

“I suppose you may have a point. Unfortunately for you, I’m not one to kiss and tell.” He leered at her, leaving her fighting back a shudder of disgust. “My business dealings are not so easily betrayed. No matter how fond of you I might be.”

It was the response she’d expected, so she didn’t let it deter her. Whatever Raphael had already done was irreversible and not her concern; what she cared about was what he would do next. “I have a new deal to offer you, then, if you’re interested.”

The smile that curved his lips was sly and smug and utterly insufferable. “Oh, please, do tell.”

“We know Cazador’s looking for Astarion. All I need from you is your word that you won’t pass any information to him that would help him in that regard. No information on where Astarion is, who he’s travelling with, what he’s doing. Nothing about anything he’s learned or allies he’s made. So far as Cazador’s concerned, you don’t even know of Astarion’s existence. Or any of us, for that matter. Understand?”

“An intriguing request,” he purred. “One that indicates you have more forethought than I’d originally anticipated.”

For what was arguably a compliment, that sure did sound insulting. Raevan shot him a flat, unimpressed look. “Is that a yes?”

He paused to consider her offer, all of his many bizarre physical affectations seeming to freeze for a moment as he diverted his attention to weighing up the request. If he’d been anyone but Raphael, Raevan might have been warmed by the amount of consideration he was giving her; as it was, it was all she could do not to tap her foot impatiently.

“What you ask is certainly possible,” Raphael said eventually. “I might even dare to say it sounds fun – something to balance the scales just a little when you inevitably try to put a stake through Cazador’s heart. Hmm, yes, I think I might enjoy keeping your secrets a little while longer.”

Silently, Raevan breathed out a breath of relief. It was only half of the battle, but it at least wasn’t an immediate rejection. “And what would you want in return for your silence?”

“Well now, that is an interesting question.” He let the mild threat of that hang in the air for long enough to make Raevan sweat before he laughed delightedly. “Fear not. What you ask of me is nothing but my silence, which comes a little more cheaply than my help. My payment is simple. Moonrise Towers is currently home to a… ah, how to put this. A connoisseuse of the sanguine variety. I believe you’ve met…?”

Raevan stared at him blankly for a long few seconds before the words translated themselves through her fog of exhaustion and she made the connection. “That drow, you mean? Oblodra?”

“The very same. I have not dealt with her directly myself, but she has recently come to my attention as someone worthy of keeping my eye on. Her work is truly something to behold. Her work on you, however, will be, I suspect, nothing short of stunning.”

Without meaning to, Raevan shuddered. Hard. “Her work on me?”

He laughed. “You didn’t think she would be content with just a few drops of your blood, did you? No, I believe she has far greater plans for all that precious nectar running through your veins. So, here is my proposal: assuming that you survive your attempt to destroy Ketheric Thorm and continue on to Baldur’s Gate as you intend, seek her out once more. I am certain that she will wish to continue her work with your assistance.”

Because that wasn’t threatening at all. Raevan had walked away from her brief run-in with Araj annoyed, insulted, and vaguely disgusted. Her treatment of Astarion had overridden any concerns Raevan might have had about the woman’s experiments in general, but there was no part of the interaction that she had any interest in repeating.

Of course, Raphael evidently had other ideas. “Once you meet her again, agree to work with her, participate in her experiments whatever they may be. And, when she’s done, you deliver to me a single vial of your blood. Just the one. No more or less than that.”

Raevan blinked. Then, “What is it with you people and my gods damned blood?” She snapped without thinking. First Astarion, then Oblodra, now Raphael. Her blood had certainly never been so popular before an unwelcome tadpole crawled inside her head. Hells’ teeth, nothing about her had ever been that popular. “Why in the hells would you want me to do that?”

Raphael was already shaking his head. “My reasons are my own. If it’s any comfort, I have no intention of using your blood against you. Not at present, at any rate. Suffice to say I’m something of a… collector of curiosities, and you, my dear, are curious indeed.” He reached out to her, one imperious finger lifting her chin so he could examine her face.

She jerked back out of reach, annoyed at the invasion. He let her go with a wicked smile, pleased to have gotten a rise out of her and she instantly cursed her own impulsivity. With a practiced rush of willpower, she grabbed hold of her own disgust and discomfort and quietly throttled them in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t come out here to be cowed by the likes of Raphael. She came out her to make a deal and gods damn it, that was what she was going to do. “So, to be clear: you won’t tell Cazador what we’re up to – not where we are, not what we’re doing, nothing – and in return, you want a vial of my blood. After whatever Oblodra does with it.”

That felt like the catch, if there was one to be found. Who was she kidding? Raphael was a demon, of course there was a fucking catch. Raevan couldn’t see any way he could twist the definition of a single vial of blood, but he’d given her no information whatsoever on what that gods damned drow would do to her. The only question was, would Oblodra do anything heinous enough to make this deal not worth it?

“Those are the terms,” Raphael confirmed, already smiling like he knew she would say yes. Maybe he’d known that before he’d even shown up. It wasn’t like Raevan had made any secret of the fact that she was seeking him out with exactly that intention.

“You don’t mind that you’re not getting your payment upfront? I don’t want you giving anything to Cazador from this point on, not weeks from now.”

He raised an elegant shoulder in the most insufferable shrug she’d ever seen. “Normally I would never allow such a thing, but like I said, silence can be cheap. For the right person, at least.” His eyes trailed down her body, taunting. She refused to react. “Suffice to say that breaking such a deal at a later date is something that will not be tolerated. I am certain you would not want to see what happens if you decided to renege on our agreement.”

She didn’t doubt it. His voice had gone low and threatening, and underneath all the smarmy bluster, she could sense something far darker. Her knowledge of devils wasn’t spotless – she was more at home dealing with traditional monsters than the likes of Raphael – but it was enough to understand just how much of a danger he posed to her if he decided they should be enemies. She might have grown stronger through her adventures thus far, but she still felt like an ant beneath his gaze.

If she agreed to this now, she would have to keep her word. There was no telling what destruction he would cause to her and those she loved if she didn’t.

She was tired of going round in circles. The deal gave them the best chance of taking down Cazador once and for all, and she couldn’t foresee any way it would hinder their collective attempts to stop the Absolute. Truthfully, she couldn’t have expected a better offer. “Alright,” she said with false casualness. “We have a deal.”

Raphael’s grin split open into a broad, full-faced smile. “Excellent news, my friend. Truly, I hadn’t expected you to be so… pragmatic.”

Stupid, more like. Once upon a time, she never would have even considered talking a devil, let alone making an actual deal with one. How far she had fallen. “Great,” she said, deadpan. “Is that everything then?”

Raphael hummed. He was practically vibrating with pleasure at drawing her into whatever trap he was inevitably planning but Raevan was too tired to deal with his gloating. She just wanted to be done. “More or less,” he agreed. “I just have one more question for you.”

He didn’t immediately follow it up with anything else, so Raevan gritted her teeth and bit out, “What is it?”

The devil’s smug attitude was enough to grate on anyone’s nerves, but in an extended exchange like this it was nearly unbearable. “I can’t help but notice this little deal of yours falls rather in the favour of a certain vampire spawn and substantially less in your own.” He let that accusation hang in the air for a moment before Raevan’s stubborn silence forced him to elaborate. “I find myself wondering if you have any intention at all of telling him about it.”

The immediate, honest answer was that Raevan hadn’t given it a moment’s thought. It wasn’t like Astarion was raring to speak to her at the moment, and she didn’t see that changing in the near future so it wasn’t a question she’d needed to confront. Now that it had been asked… Damn.

“I won’t lie to him about it if that’s what you’re asking,” she said firmly. No matter what, she wouldn’t. The lie by omission about how their fight with the Orthon ended was already weighing so heavily on her soul it was hard to draw a full breath; this deal of theirs was nothing in comparison to that. She wouldn’t add it to her sins.

Raphael chuckled. “That’s hardly the same thing and I think perhaps you know it. I asked if you intend to tell him.”

No way to skirt the question then. Gods damned devil and his ability to get on her last nerve seemingly effortlessly. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to find strength in the putrid air of the Shadowlands. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t help.

So, what was her answer then? A part of her certainly didn’t want to tell him, aware that he’d made it exceedingly clear he wasn’t interested in her meddling any further in his personal affairs and yet here she was, neck deep in them. It wasn’t like he’d be happy to hear she was going around making deals with devils behind his back. Still, that wasn’t enough of a reason to keep him in the dark. He’d had more than enough of that from the monsters in his life and she adamantly refused to become one of them. He could hate her and curse her and wish her all the ills he could imagine, but he should always be able to trust her. They’d need that if they were to have any chance at all of making it through this alive.

“I don’t keep secrets from Astarion,” she said eventually. She immediately realised her mistake when the corner of Raphael’s mouth twitched up in glee and his eyebrow rose.

“No? You’re sure of that?”

Raevan’s heart pounded. A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck. What could he know of her secrets? “I’m sure,” she lied.

“You told him about your little conversation with Yurgir? And he let you live? I must say I’m surprised.”

A white-hot flash of cold raced down Raevan’s spine, painful and sharp. How could Raphael possibly know of that? She’d been the only one in the room still conscious besides the Orthon and his cronies, and she doubted he’d have been willing to spill her secrets to Raphael of all people. How often was he spying on her?

“Oh,” Raphael breathed, eyes lighting up gleefully, “He doesn’t know at all, does he? Tsk tsk tsk.”

Panic and fear piled in with her next three heartbeats, threatening to steal any strength she was stubbornly clinging to. She couldn't let that happen; if there was ever going to be a time to fall apart over that particular decision, it sure as shit wasn't going to be now. Instead, she did the only thing she could, and reached for anger. “I did what I had to do to keep us alive,” she snarled. “That's the only part of that story that matters and it's all anyone else ever needs to know. How in the hells do you know what happened down there?”

Raphael preened, so obviously pleased with himself. “Why, I watched it happen! What? You thought because I asked you to kill the beast, I was too afraid to venture down into that tomb myself?” He laughed, sharp and mocking. “No, my dear. It was simply a job that needed doing and I overestimated your abilities. Still, I suppose I should thank you for weakening him so. It made finishing him off much easier.”

Raevan went rigid in surprise. “Wait. You killed the Orthon?”

His grin was like a razor, carving into Raevan’s last remaining hope. “Not quite. I didn’t need Yurgir dead, precisely, so much as I needed him… vulnerable. Desperate enough to make another deal without worrying overmuch about his precious freedom. I’d hoped to discuss it with him once you’d sent him back to my House of Hope, but alas, you proved yourself… unsuitable, for the task. I stepped in and returned him to the Hells myself.”

“If you got what you wanted anyway, why all of this?” She demanded, waving a hand in the air as if that could somehow encapsulate the last day. “The job’s done. You owe Astarion his answers.”

Raphael turned his nose up in a sneer. “I think not. The deal was for you to kill the Orthon in return for information about those pretty scars of his. As you’ll recall, you did no such thing.”

“The damn thing’s back in the Hells, what does it matter?” She snapped, but she already knew. You couldn’t outwit a devil in a contest of words and in this case, he had her to rights. The deal had been very specific. She’d failed. There was nothing more to it than that, no matter how unfair it might seem.

The defeat of it must have shown on her face, because Raphael’s expression morphed into a false veneer of sympathy. “You did try very hard,” he commiserated, entirely unconvincingly. “Sadly, it just wasn’t enough. Perhaps next time, you might have more luck.”

It took every ounce of self-control she’d ever learned not to try to stab the bastard right then and there. She was pretty sure she could do it too – he was relaxed and she could be very quick when she wanted to be – but she was smart enough to know that one blow wouldn’t bring him down and she’d only get the single shot. A moment’s satisfaction wasn’t worth her friends having to stumble across her charred corpse in the morning.

“You’re-” she started instead, hate making her voice thick enough to drown out anything else she might have continued with.

“A devil?”

“An asshole,” she corrected.

He laughed, unoffended. “Perhaps. But whatever else I may be, I am a man of my word. Not a sound about you or your travelling companions will pass my lips where Cazador Szarr or his underlings will hear about them.” He stressed the last part of his sentence and Raevan froze on hearing the loophole she’d so entirely missed: she’d only ever said Raphael couldn’t tell Cazador about them. He could happily have blabbed all their secrets to one of the man’s other spawn if he’d so desired. The knowing glint in his eye said he’d noticed the flaw as soon as she’d spoken. “A little gift, for you, as a token of my appreciation for your help with Yurgir. You might not have managed to fulfil your end of the bargain, but your efforts deserve some reward nonetheless. Be grateful. I’m rarely so generous.”

She didn’t doubt that for an instant. “Thank you,” she said woodenly.

He chuckled again, amused by her quiet horror. The conversation was nothing but a game to him, that much was clear, and there was no contest as to who had won. “Curious indeed,” he repeated lowly to himself. “I think I should enjoy my dealings with you. Good night.”

He didn’t leave her an opening to respond before he vanished in a bright flash of brimstone. Good riddance. He’d done nothing but tangle her head up in thorns after what had already been a trying day at the end of a trying week.

Except that wasn’t true, because now she could head back to camp knowing that Raphael wasn’t pouring information directly into Cazador’s ear. There was no telling what the devil had already told the man, of course, but that well of information dried up right now. If nothing else, he wouldn’t know when or how they would strike. A blunted edge it might be, but an edge nonetheless.

Reassured if not entirely comforted by the thought, she took a deep breath and turned on her heel to head back to camp.

And immediately froze.

At the edge of the clearing, barely five feet away, Astarion was leaning against the trunk of a wide beech tree, watching her with dark eyes. He was slowly twirling a dagger between his hands.

“Astarion,” she bleated, utterly failing to not look suspicious. “How- Uh. How long have you been there?”

He gave her a flat look. “A while.”

Fucking Raphael. Astarion wasn’t even trying to hide – the bastard must have known he was there the entire time. No wonder he’d asked her if she planned on telling him about their deal.

“Shit,” she said.

He snorted, but no amusement lit up behind his eyes. “You’re normally more eloquent than that.”

“Yeah, well. Long day.” As abruptly as it had burned through her, the sharp shock of adrenaline faded and she was left standing there in the dark, exhausted. After everything that had come before it, she didn’t think she had the strength to bear another tirade from Astarion that night. “Look,” she said quietly, not even bothering to hide the defeat in her voice, “I’m sure you’re upset. You’ve every reason to be. But right now, I’m exhausted. Please, just let me get a couple of hours sleep and you can yell at me in the morning. Promise.”

She couldn’t meet his eyes as she said it, but she looked up in time to see his brows drop into a frown before the expression was wiped clean. There was an uncomfortable pause.

Raevan gave it a solid ten seconds of no response before she sighed heavily, nodded, and sidestepped to get around him. If he wasn’t going to say anything, he could glare at her in silence back in camp. At least there she could enjoy the warmth of a fire and the comfort of her bedroll.

A freezing white hand shot out of the darkness and fixed around her wrist. For the second time in as many minutes, she froze in place. “Wait,” he said quickly. He sounded- strange. Almost desperate, though about what Raevan had no clue. “I’m not going to shout at you.”

“Oh,” she said, then stopped. Maybe it was to be subtle, snide digs this time, instead of the open rage he’d unleashed in that fucking tomb. She wasn’t sure she had the energy for that either, but likewise she wasn’t sure she was currently strong enough to best him in a contest of brute strength if he refused to let go of her. Easier to just stand there and hope he elaborated before her body gave up and collapsed.

It took him a minute, but he did eventually continue. “I came to speak with you about something, but I think perhaps there is another conversation we need to have first.” He tilted his head pointedly in the direction Raphael had been standing.

Raevan’s heart sank. He didn’t sound angry, he just seemed… blank. Like she’d disappointed him so much already earlier that he couldn’t summon any more emotion for her latest betrayal.

That same deadened tone only seemed worse when he continued with, “What did he mean? About you speaking with the Orthon?”

She had to take a moment to brace herself against the cold flood of fear that question brought on. Despite herself, a part of her had hoped that he’d somehow miraculously missed that part of the conversation. But he was asking her a direct question and he hadn’t let go of her arm and there would be no more quiet omissions on this particular count. She could lie to his face, or she could come clean and let it all fall apart as it would.

Well. She’d said she wouldn’t lie to him and she’d meant it. Time to face this thing head-on.

“I didn’t tell you the full story before. He didn’t just run off,” she admitted bluntly, unable to meet his eyes. “I asked him to leave. Begged, really. Wasn’t quite on my knees in all the blood, but it wasn’t as far from it as I might have liked.”

“You asked him to go?”

“We, uh. Ha. We made a deal, of sorts. Not quite up to Raphael’s level, perhaps, but all the same. I swore to leave him in peace so long as he took himself off to some dark, distant corner and stayed there until we were done.”

Astarion’s eyes were very dark but the storm clouds gathering on his brow were obvious enough even in the gloom. “Why would you do that?” He hissed. “You knew about my pact with Raphael. You knew what it meant to me.”

Abruptly, Raevan realised she didn’t have the patience left to tolerate his self-righteous bullshit. Not right now. “And it wouldn’t have fucking mattered if the Orthon had killed you before Raphael had a chance to tell you anything! I didn’t choose to let him go in favour of killing him – I chose it over every single one of us ending up dead in that damned tomb.” She ran her free hand roughly over her face, trying to get the smell of rot and blood out of her nose. “You were down. All of you. You all could have been dead already for all I knew. And I couldn’t have beaten Yurgir alone, not without throwing my life away too.”

She sighed. Not for the first time, she wished that the cosmos would just give her a fucking break for once. It never used to be this hard. “So I chose the path that kept us all alive. It was selfish, and it wasn’t what you would have done, but I had two options and I chose the one I could make my peace with. I’m sorry. But I wouldn’t take it back, even if I could.”

With the last embers of her strength, she wrenched her wrist free of him and turned once more to head back towards the camp. She made it six steps before his voice pulled her to a halt. “Wait. I’m sorry,” he called.

Raevan stopped dead in her tracks, surprise flooding up her throat so quickly she was momentarily speechless. When she spun back to look at him, he was watching her steadily, his expression guarded but not- Not torn open in rage. Not crumpled with frustration. Just- watchful.

“You’re right. If the fight was lost, then there was nothing else you could have done. I can hardly criticise you for saving my life.” His mouth twisted a little in what was perhaps supposed to be an attempt at one of his usual grins, but he abandoned it before it had even fully formed. “Thank you, for that.”

She had absolutely no idea what to say. The man standing across from her surely couldn’t be the same person who had screamed at her just that morning. “You’re welcome,” she said.

“And I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” he continued, as if he hadn’t already shocked her enough for one night. “You shouldn’t have had to bear the brunt of my anger when it was so wholly undeserved. I should not have said what I did to you. It- ah. It wasn’t true. Or fair.”

For a moment, she felt adrift. She’d been prepared to have to weather more of Astarion’s vitriol; this was nothing she was braced for. In anyone else, she might think such an abrupt heel-turn of opinion was a sign of spontaneous personal growth, but that wasn’t the kind of man Astarion was. Not after two hundred years of surviving the kind of suffering he had. From him it felt… measured. Was this some manipulation? Maybe he’d gotten worried that he’d chased her off enough that she would refuse to fight alongside him should Cazador come knocking. It was the only thing that made sense.

“Astarion…” She started, searching for the words to tell him that she was still on his side. He didn’t need to lie to her to convince her. “It’s– fine. It was a stressful situation, but we got through it. Nothing’s changed.”

She expected something like relief to appear in his expression, but none appeared. If anything, he looked worried. “That’s not what I– I mean–” He caught himself, ran a hand through his hair. It was the most uncertain she’d ever seen him look. “I’m not trying to feed you a line here. I mean it. I spoke out of turn earlier and I’m sorry for it. I was thinking more about old scars than I was about the rather more permanent injuries I would have had if you were not there, but that is no excuse.”

He did look repentant, she had to give him that. He had the wide-eyed sincerity look perfected. Regardless, whether he was lying or not didn’t really matter; she was too tired to see through his deceptions and it would become clear soon enough whether or not he was still willing to work with her as they had before. Anything else… Well. That was a problem for the morning.

“Alright,” she said. “Thank you, then.”

There was a stilted pause as she waited to see if he’d volunteer anything else, but he looked just as surprised by her acceptance as she had felt by his apology, so they ended up just sort of staring at each other.

“You said you came to speak to me about something?” She prompted when the silence stretched.

“I– Ah, yes. Yes, sorry. Ha,” he rolled his shoulders back, trying to regain his composure. “I fear I may be repeating myself, but I actually came here to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For what you said while I was in front of that vile drow.”

With a suddenness that made her dizzy, she was again remembering the surprised awe on Astarion’s face when she defended him, cut through with a narrow-eyed wariness that spoke of a man waiting for the other shoe to drop. Nausea pooled in her gut. Of all the things Astarion could have wanted to discuss, of course he had chosen the one moment she absolutely, at all costs, didn’t want to revisit.

“Astarion,” she cut him off quickly when he opened his mouth to continue. “Please do not thank me for treating you like a person. Please.”

She couldn’t decipher the look he gave her, but it made something squirm in her belly all the same. “I don’t know if it says more about me or you that you genuinely believe that isn’t an incredible thing to say,” he murmured, sounding almost wistful. More firmly he continued, “I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my master. What I wanted, how I felt about what I was doing, it never mattered. You could have asked me to do the same – to throw myself at her, what I wanted be damned.” The terribly familiar disgust and rage in his expression bled away, leaving behind soft, wide eyes and the first beginnings of something like hope. “But you didn't. And I'm grateful.”

It still stung to hear him admit how surprised he was by her decision not to treat him like property, but something in her soothed at the words. He hadn’t been wary of her, necessarily; he was just so unused to kind treatment he could hardly recognise it when it was handed to him. In that light… she couldn’t say that she understood, but she could at least accept.

“I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do,” she admitted.

He chuckled. He looked a little more relaxed now that she wasn’t trying to get away. “It's a novel concept, I admit. And a little intimidating. It would have been so easy to bite her. To just go along with what I was being told to do. A moment of disgust to force myself through. And then I could have carried on, just like before.”

There was something heavy in his gaze that clued her in to the fact there was more to this than he was saying. She bit her lip, considering, then decided that their relationship couldn’t possibly come out of this conversation worse than it was when they started so she pushed through. “Is that what I was?” She asked quietly. “A moment of disgust to force yourself through?”

His mouth twisted. “Something like that. Except... not at all.” A cold, terrible weight sank to the bottom of Raevan’s stomach, but Astarion continued before she had a chance to fall off the cliff edge she was teetering on. “Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan. Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn on me. It was… easy. Instinctive. Habits from 200 years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do was… not fall for you.” He shuffled in place, dropping her gaze for a moment to look at the floor before his eyes darted back up like he was afraid she’d disappear if he wasn’t watching her. She could do nothing more than gaze back, eyes wide, frozen like a mouse staring down a cat. Astarion swallowed hard. “Which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart. You're... You're incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

It was almost too much to bear. After a day of trying to stop her emotions from spilling over, constantly cut through with pain because a man she cared for had made it abundantly clear he didn’t feel the same, she was now watching him admit that he hadn’t hated her all along.

Her immediate nature told her that he must be lying, that this must be just another manipulation, but even as she thought it she couldn’t quite believe it. She’d never heard Astarion’s voice sound like that, so low and tender and unsure. He was just as terrified by this conversation as she was. And yet, here he was, having it anyway.

It gave her the courage to be a little bit brave too. “So do I,” she admitted. “More than anything.”

The stomach-drop moment of sheer terror was worth it for the way she was able to watch a real, genuine smile bloom on his face like a sunrise. He wore them so rarely and when he did he was… breathtaking. “That’s– That’s good.”

She laughed softly, a nervous sort of adrenaline making her feel unmoored. Her fatigue was having the same effect as a few glasses of wine.

His smile sharpened into a grin, before that too faded into something more sobering. “I just don't know what real looks like. Not after 200 years playing the rake. Being close to someone, any kind of intimacy, was something I... performed, to lure people back for him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels... tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I don't know how else to be with someone.” His voice thickened. “No matter how much I'd like to.”

After the way he’d reacted when Oblodra was looking at him like a thing to be owned, she could understand that. “It’s alright,” she soothed. “I had no idea how to do this either. I’m not sure anyone does, really. All I do know is that I care about you. Deeply.”

“Really?” His voice was soft, fragile, but cradled in the faintest glow of hope.

Hearing it, she was moving before she even had time to think it through. She couldn’t let that kind of tone go unanswered and after an entire day of distance, she had to prove to him and to herself that she wasn’t going anywhere. He tensed at her approach, but didn’t flinch away when she looped her arms under his and pulled herself close. He was freezing in the cool air, but it didn’t stop her. Her head nestled down against his shoulder and for the first time in hours, she felt herself fall still.

Astarion stayed frozen for several of the heartbeats he no longer had and she spent each second terrified she’d done completely the wrong thing, but then he was sucking in a breath and chilled arms curled up around her to hold her in place. The icy tip of a nose brushed against her scalp and then a cheek was cushioning itself on the crown of her head. She breathed out shakily.

They stayed there for a long time, until it became clear that he wasn’t going to be the one to pull away. Raevan had never felt more comfortable in her entire life, but she was also starting to shiver and he distinctly wasn’t helping matters. Besides, there was more than needed to be said before she inevitably passed out from exhaustion.

When she pulled back, his eyes were the calmest they’d ever been. He looked at her like she’d hung the moon. “You– You’re full of surprises. Aren’t you?”

She smiled, staying close to him. “Good ones, I hope.”

He laughed. “I could definitely get used to it.” He reached out to brush a lock of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear with extreme gentleness. She fought not to let her eyes flicker closed. A moment later, his expression cautiously folded down into another frown. “There is one surprise I have some questions about however.” His eyes darted meaningfully to the spot where Raphael had disappeared.

Ah. Shit. She’d almost forgotten about that. “I’m sorry,” she said immediately, because it was the most important part of any of it. “I know I shouldn’t have gotten involved without speaking to you, I just–” She sighed. Looking back, she wasn’t even sure what she’d been thinking. “We’re already going to be going at Cazador with a disadvantage. I didn’t want Raphael stacking things against us even more.”

His expression was tense, but not upset. Mostly he looked like he was just desperately trying to understand. “But why–” He frowned. “You did this… for my sake?”

She shrugged. “Well, it’s a little selfish too. I’m going to have to fight the bastard as well you know.”

It was clear in the way his eyebrows pinched together that, no, he hadn’t known that, even though she’d told him so in the past. Clearly he hadn’t quite believed her. Well, for the avoidance of any doubt:

“I won’t let you stand against him alone Astarion. Of course I won’t. We’re in this together, even if we don’t have any idea what we’re walking into. Scars or no scars, it doesn’t matter. We’re going to kill him, together. I promise.”

“You don’t know what this deal will cost you,” he pressed, brow drawn tight. “We can’t trust Oblodra–”

“I know that,” she cut in. “Trust me, I know. But a little bit of blood to know that Cazador won’t see us coming? That’s worth it Astarion. You know it’s worth it.”

He might have done, but he certainly didn’t look happy about it. “I don’t like it. You shouldn’t have to give of yourself for my sake.”

“I told you, it’s for me too. And besides, it was my fault your deal fell through. This is just… balancing the scales a little.” She shrugged at him again, trying to let go of all the self-doubt and recriminations that had been chasing her since that morning. Karlach had told her that she couldn’t blame herself and she was trying to hold herself to it, even if it was hard. “I wouldn’t change what I did, but this… this makes it easier to bear.”

“You’re punishing yourself,” he concluded sharply. A cold hand gripped tightly at her elbow.

“No. Well, maybe. I don’t know. It’s not that simple.” She shook herself. “I don’t regret it,” she said firmly. “It was the right thing to do, regardless of your deal. I’ve been thinking about something like it for a long while. Pretty much since you told me about Cazador, actually.”

The tense line of his shoulders finally eased a little, and a small, wondrous smile poked through. “You wanted to stand with me even then?”

“Before… all of this,” she said, gesturing to her own head to indicate the tadpole, “I spent most of my life in the wilds, hunting down all kinds of beasts and monsters. Nothing big or fancy like what Wyll did, just. Little things. Small acts for people who needed help and had nowhere else to turn. If a bear came through a village and attacked someone, I’d help them chase it back into the mountains. If a band of goblins were terrorising travellors, I’d fight them off. That kind of thing.”

She half-smiled, remembering how simple things had been back then. It felt like years ago now. “It wasn’t much, but it felt like I was able to do a little bit of good along the way. Then you appeared, and told me all about a monster far greater and far worse than anything I’d ever even imagined. How could I not want to help you? It’s all I’ve ever tried to do.”

“Volunteering to fight a vampire lord is a far cry from running off a starving bear.”

“Yes, well. I’m sure the principle is much the same. Pointy end of the sword goes in them, sharp teeth stay out of me. That’s more or less the gist, right?”

He snorted. “I… suppose.”

“See? I’m all set.”

He gave a proper laugh, eyes tightening briefly in mirth. She couldn’t stop the helpless smile that came to her face in response. “You really are a wonder,” he murmured. “Whatever could I possibly have done to deserve you?”

The tenderness of the moment swelled over and she didn’t try to resist the pull to lean in and press a featherlight kiss to his lips. When she retreated, his eyes were closed. “I don’t think it’s about what anyone deserves,” she said quietly. “But I know this is what I want. If it’s what you want too.”

Red eyes slid open to pierce right through her. “I’d hoped I’d made it clear that it is. I just– I think I need a little time. To… figure out how to do… this.”

She nodded. The relief of knowing that all her secret worries of the day, the fear that he really couldn’t stand her and had never liked her, were nothing but her own misunderstandings was almost enough to send her to her knees. It made it easy to be kind. “Take all the time you need. I’ll still be here. Honestly, I think you might have trouble ever being rid of me.”

He reached out to cradle her hand between his. “I can’t imagine ever wanting such a thing. I have no idea what we’re doing. Or what comes next. But I know that this?” He squeezed her fingers. “This is nice.”

She gripped back tightly. There were just as many challenges ahead of them as behind, but they all felt somehow smaller when he had his hand in hers and he was looking at her like he could scarcely believe she was real. She knew the feeling; it was the same one she got when the sun caught in his hair or when he couldn’t stop himself laughing at one of Gale’s sly jokes. Gods, she’d thought she’d lost this.

“It is,” she agreed, then had to break off for an absolutely mortifying yawn. Apparently her body had gotten bored of waiting for her to give in to the rest she desperately needed and was now just going to sabotage her until she surrendered.

Astarion laughed again, loud and bright. His eyes sparkled in the torchlight. “I think perhaps that’s a sign I should stop keeping you from your bedroll. You did say you were tired.”

“I am,” she admitted, “But I don’t want to leave this unfinished.”

He shook his head at her, his smile untouched. “If there is more to be said, it can be said in the morning. Or whatever passes for morning in this horrible place, anyway. For now, it’s enough to know that I haven’t driven you away with my shameful outburst this morning. Although, if it drove you to Raphael instead…” He grimaced.

“That was my decision to make, not yours,” she said firmly.

He raised the hand he was still holding to press a kiss to her knuckles. “I know. And we will need to talk at some stage about your determination to sacrifice yourself for every sob story you come across, myself included,” he added with a flick of his hair, “But for the moment, I’ll let it lie. You need my beauty sleep after all.”

She swatted at him, rolling her eyes when he laughed again and silently promising herself that she would do everything in her power to ensure he laughed like that as often as possible in future. He’d already spent far too long without it.

When she turned to head back to camp, she kept hold of his hand to lead him out of the shadows. “Just for that, you can help me untangle my hair. It’s a nightmare right now.”

He looked thoroughly unthreatened when he smirked at her. “However shall I cope?”

#fanfiction #my fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion #tav #female tav #named tav #angst #angst with a happy ending #bg3 #tavstarion #astarion x tav #karlach is also here and is the best character #i love her your honour #oh and raphael #he's here a bunch too #i dont love him #it's on SIGHT with raph

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