Chapter Text
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The night faded quietly into the morning. Deimos had spent the time sitting at a small table writing in his journal. In those pages was a variety of subjects ranging from the day-to-day accounting of needs to records of encounters with either other spawn or his own limitations.
He’d made certain sacrifices upon leaving the Crimson Palace. These things had not been asked for, but given with the assumption that the demand would come. He’d freely restricted himself to going out only at night. The new abilities Astarion had gained from the ritual had made the time Deimos spent transitioning into a spawn much easier. There had been no sudden rejection from the sun.
Fact was, there was no telling how or if the ascendant could revoke that gift as easily as just thinking it. He’d seen Astarion lose his temper a number of times and some were followed up with aggressive action. Plus, there was a comment lingering in his mind about not straying too far away from the other vampire. If proximity was part of the reason the sun didn’t bother him then it created a dangerous situation. At any moment he could walk too far and suddenly start burning. So, Deimos had rid himself of that risk. Though some dark whisper from the well of the mind also spoke of what if his lover decided he was no longer worthy of that gift and ripped it from him.
By this point, should he start training himself to refer to Astarion as his former lover now? The distance and silence made it seem so.
It was, again, very easy to suddenly paint his former lover like a tyrant. The vampire had been kept under thumb by one and so to many it was logical that it was only a matter of time until Astarion developed into one himself.
The man would lash out verbally when provoked or if his feelings were hurt, though he tried hide that part of himself. Thankfully, Astarion had made great strides to calm himself down after the battles had ended. There were still tense moments, but overall, the man had gotten used to his new power and he was no longer clouded by the overwhelming circumstances of that moment.
Deimos had been proud of his love for bettering himself even when so many were betting on his fall. He was still proud even when this strange rift had formed.
For all the troubled thoughts trapped within the mind of Deimos there was no denying that Astarion had indeed made good on his pledge to be better than Cazador in some regards. The other spawn were carefully chosen and not turned in spite to prevent fostering thoughts of disloyalty down the line. Rats were not forced on them either, however, they did come up as a method of punishment occasionally.
Feeding was something the Lord had been strict about. Unlike the previous coven, the spawn were not forbidden from drinking the blood of thinking creatures. However, careful selection had to take place. The Palace could not risk unwanted attention should too many people go missing or turn up dead and bloodless. Astarion would stress methods that would allow the victim to live and remain blissfully unaware of what had happened.
Children were off limits. They needed the population to remain healthy and capable of naturally replenishing itself.
Nobles were restricted. You had to have permission from the Lord before the hunt would be permitted. This was saved for assassinations and other political moves that required a more creative touch.
Mortals belonging to vital organizations required for the city were restricted as well.
The homeless and criminals were usually fair game, but excepts did come up once in a while.
Thankfully, fanatics still would come poking around looking to beg for immortality like table scraps. Many wound up becoming bite junkies to those that lived within the Crimson Palace. The thrill of fangs sinking into their flesh and feeling life leak from their body into another would fill them with such ecstasy that often they’d forget their original purpose for coming.
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Deimos stood up from the desk and stretched. Thinking of blood made him salivate, but it was too early to try and get anything now. It would have to wait until nightfall. If the rain didn’t let up then perhaps, he’d go visit the drow twins and ask to use their bath. He wondered if it was possible to convince one or both to allow him to take a bite. Though if all they were willing to do was let him bathe and wash his back for him that would be just fine too. Sex wasn’t very high on his list of wants, but company was. It would be nice to feel cared for, even if it was an illusion paid for with coin.
He needed to stop thinking about the past for a while and live in the moment again. Red eyes glancing at his journal as what was to come flashed across his face. If Astarion wasn’t going to interact with him then there was no reason to stay in this city. He’d only stayed because some part of his mind thought, even hoped, that the silver haired vampire would come after him.
Foolish, he knew.
He knew if Astarion really wanted him all it would take was a compulsion command and he’d have no choice but to return. The warrior had asked his maker earlier in their new life together to compel him, just once. He wanted to know what it felt like. He wanted to understand why Astarion had hated Cazador for it.
Of course, his former lover had been offended by the request. He hadn’t wanted to force his will on his beloved. There was no need for it and the last thing he’d wanted was take away autonomy. Yet, the younger silver-tongued vampire had been convincing. There was no danger in a little experimentation. Deimos got to learn what it was like and Astarion had gotten to see if his new powers allowed for it. Followed by intense cuddling on a couch to comfort both sides that it was over and wouldn’t happen again.
Experimentation. Finding the limit of one’s capabilities.
A hand ran through his dark hair as he mused in thought. Picking up a brush those fingers worked to clean up the mess created from the activities of the day. The one benefit of the rain was that his hair was wet enough to allow the brush to run through easily. It helped to loosen knots and tangles.
If I do leave the city then I’ll need a better understanding of just how far I can push myself. Learning about the monster in me is no different than learning how to use a weapon. In the right hands, it’s effective and useful. In the wrong hands, well, far more than lives will be on the line… my sanity is too.
The brush returned to the shelf with a soft click. Nimble fingers moved up to his right ear feeling his four piercings. Once he found the one farthest up the ear, he worked the hoop open and pulled it out. A small wooden bead with a crystal center swayed back and forth on the metal. The crystal was clear with a faint blue gradient. The same blue some reported his eyes to being.
“Looks like I need to pay a visit to Rolan, as well. The glamor is nearly out of power again.” One more issue to deal with tomorrow night. Though perhaps, he’d have to leave a couple hours before true night and carefully slip around the shadows of sunset. Rolan was a pain in the ass to deal with when he got the urge to be.
The glamor had been something he started doing a while back. Some people had been a little nervous around him upon noticing his eye color had changed from blue to red. So, for the sake of making future encounters more welcoming, he’d sought out magic to hide it.
His tongue ran over each of his fangs in consideration of having the spell upgraded to include his fangs. It didn’t seem worth it though. Plenty of people had sharp teeth. Didn’t mean anything at a glance. Though just because the population was calm about it here didn’t mean other places would be. What if he crossed into another vampire’s territory?
“Stop.” The elf shook his head. It’s was far to early for getting lost in a hole of what-if questions.
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It was not three hours after sunrise by the time Deimos finally laid down. Ideas swirling in his mind for what his next move would be. He’d rung out his clothing by the stove one more time before giving up. He was going to get new clothes tomorrow without question and visit Rolan.
Then… he would feed.
It was going to be a long time before he’d get the chance again. At least, if things went as he’d hoped. His hopes weren’t very high on that front. The fact no one bothered him this night just made it seem like the peace was soon to end. The spawn were like a back of jackals when they wanted to be.
The older ones knew better than to mess with him. Even if they too shared the seemingly popular opinion that Deimos was nothing but a used toy, they had the manners to keep it to themselves. However, majority of them simply had more context than the younger groups. Many saw the tail end of the battle for the city and the clean up efforts. They saw exactly what their Master’s beloved first spawn could do in a fight.
They also knew that Deimos wasn’t usually quick to resort to violence. The phrase ‘fuck around and find out’ summed him up well. An individual might make it out with little more than a particularly well placed back handed compliment or a verbal tongue lashing. Or they might get a lot more than words thrown in their direction.
Some of the younger spawn didn’t have that understanding. Many were little better than the fanatics that wondered in. They wanted Astarion’s attention and sought to prove themselves better. They believed Deimos to be arrogant and entitled because he seemed to get away with things the others wouldn’t.
They believed that now that he was cast out and, on the streets, he too was fair game. That they were protected by their Lord and that now Deimos was powerless to do anything.
Of course, the older ones knew that whatever was going on between Astarion and Deimos was better left to them. Plus, no orders or declarations had been made by Astarion one way or the other in regards to his first spawn. So, they took it to mean the rules remain unchanged.
Deimos may be living in exile, but he still had all the power his position as consort afforded him. Only thing missing was his will… no, the desire, to utilize it.
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