Chapter Text
“And in an instant, the travellers were BLASTED to smithereens! A bloodied helmet here, a chunk of dwarf flesh there- the smell of burnt flesh and an ashy crater were all that was left of the foolish mortals! Such is the fate of those who dare face the might of the House of Ashmurr!”
Feara finished her tale with a grin and tore a chunk of meat right off of the bone, swallowing it whole. The camp had gathered for dinner under the starlight, seated on logs around the blazing firepit where chunks of boar meat were slowly turned on a spit, the meat shining with a honey glaze.
“That’s… really quite something, Feara.” Wyll offered with a polite smile. “Your family tree sounds quite impressive!” The others just kept their heads down while eating, mostly ignoring Feara. It was the third time she’d told that story. Other than her ranting, it really was a peaceful scene… although one notable member of the party was missing.
“It’s been hours- where’s Astarion gone off to?” Shadowheart queried, a frown on her face as she looked over her shoulder. Her concern was more out of distrust than worry for their elven companion.
“He said he was going to keep watch and patrol the camp’s perimeter,” Gale replied. “I offered him a meal for the road, but he declined. I’m beginning to think he dislikes my cooking…” His shoulders sagged a bit at the recollection of Astarion snubbing all the camps’ dinners.
Feara snorted, waving around the bare bone dismissively. “If he doesn’t wish to enjoy the fruits of my labor, then that’s on him! He can starve as long as he wants to. Now, let me tell you all about my third great grandmother, who-”
Wyll cleared his throat, hoping to spare them all from another story. “Feara, if you don’t mind, well, that is to say… about your family tree… I mean… do magma dragons even exist?” Feara halted, and slowly turned to make eye contact, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Wyll quickly clamped his mouth shut.
Shadowheart chimed in from her seat, much less unafraid to be direct. “If your grandmother is supposedly so powerful, then why doesn’t she show herself given your predicament?” She asked plainly.
“Because she’s asleep!” Feara snapped defensively. “She rarely wakes, and she only communicates to me through our psychic familial bond! And the tadpole disrupts our connection, obviously! I’m sure if she knew, she really would help!”
Wyll spoke, a bit emboldened by Shadowheart seeming to think the same. “Then how come she wake up to show herself in person, if she can’t talk to you-”
Feara interrupted, “She hides because most magma dragons have been hunted to extinction! And-”
“There is no record of such a creature as I can recall,” Lae’zel interrupted flatly from her seat across the fire from Feara, “If a dragon of unprecedented might truly existed, githyanki scholars would have documented it thoroughly. Yet my teachings have no mention of your supposed family.” Lae’zel stood and handed her empty plate to Gale, giving one last remark to Feara before walking back to her tent. “If you’re attempting to impress us, try to be more realistic.”
Feara’s fists clenched on her lap, her plate of food forgotten.The look in her purple eyes blazed. “Are you seriously insinuating that I’m be making this all up!?” She called after Lae’zel, but it was Gale who spoke.
“It’s not that uncommon for myths like these to sprout, Feara.” Gale said gently, placing the empty dishes from the others into a large bin of water. “Perhaps your ancestry of red dragons mingled with a few ebony scaled dragons, and along the line a few misguided rumors led you to believe more embellished stories.”
“I DON’T BELIEVE, I KNOW!” Feara roared. No one so much as flinched while she had her outburst, as they finished up dinner and began to walk to their tents. One by one, they all stood and passed off their empty plates and cutlery. Before she knew it, Feara was left alone by the crackling firepit.
The dragonborn growled under her breath and stared down at the dirt, simmering with resentment. After a long, sulking pause, she heaved herself up, dumped a few more logs into the crackling fire and set up her bedroll besides it. She dropped down with a disgruntled huff, glaring at the bright flames…
Let them mock me. They’ll see! Once we reach Baldur’s Gate, I’ll dig up the whole earth myself to show them that she’s real! Feara placated herself with smug fantasies before the warmth of the fire began to seep into her scales, and the tension in her muscles melted away. Her eyelids grew heavy and fell shut like trapdoors as her mind drifted away to unconsciousness.
—
But a peaceful sleep never came easily to her these days. Feara shivered in her bedroll, caught in a fitful state of rest.
Images flashed in her mind- the burning nautiloid, tentacles thrashing as it plummeted to the earth. Her body, mangled and torn as tentacles sprouted from her jaw and tore her apart from the inside out, scales shedding to reveal the sickly smooth skin of a mindflayer, horns shrinking to give way to a smooth brainy dome. The tadpole seemed to wriggle with glee.
No, no! I won’t let that happen! Never! Feara cried out in her mind, thrashing about, though her body never moved. The visions changed. Vats of brine, overflowing with a mound of tadpoles that rose higher and higher. Several fell from the brim, wriggling towards her feet. Feara staggered back, falling off of the edge of a cliff. She felt something reaching for her, screaming incomprehensibly, whatever words they had for her were torn away by the torrent and the whims of the tadpole- until she saw it in the dark as she continued to fall- A single flaming purple eye over a curling maw filled with white teeth, roaring out fiery breath in a sheer orange plume- a black-scaled dragon reared its mighty head above her, as big as a mountain, screaming at her to WAKE UP, YOU FOOL-
Feara’s eyes snapped open just in time to see Astarion kneeling over her with his mouth about to descend on her neck. Their eyes met.
“...Ah.” Astarion murmured a curse, standing straight and backing off. It didn’t take long for Feara to shake off the nightmarish stupor. She was quick to follow getting up, a look of disgust on her face. She was not keen on being stalked in her sleep… she stood to her full height, easily towering over the pale elf. He stepped back, holding his hands up. “No, no- it’s not what it looks like, I swear!” He spoke hastily, his chest heaving. “I just needed- well… blood.” He muttered, conceding.
Feara saw it as he smacked his lips like a parched desert wayfarer. Fangs. Her eyes widened “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before…” she growled lowly, clenching her fists at her sides. “All this time, there was a vampire in my party! We even found that boar you snacked on!” The same boar that fed their camp that night, of course, but she decided not to mention that.
“Yes! A boar! Just an animal! I’ve never fed off of a living person!” He implored, still raising his hands as if in surrender.
“But you were about to!” Feara replied, itching to reach for the fire to grab a red-hot log and drive it through his heart.
“Please,” he said, voice tightening. He shrank back a step, eyes fixed on her expression. “I just need blood. I haven’t had many proper meals, and- and I could fight so much better if I had a little.” That made Feara pause. That was reasonable enough… Feara hadn’t learned much of vampires from her grandmother, only that they were “no better than a scourge of mosquitoes”. But they certainly needed food to survive and fight well, just like any other living creature, right?
“Really?” She asked, suspicion heavy in her voice. Astarion seized the moment instantly. “Yes! Really! I’ve seen the power you hold, the magic in your veins…” he dared to step a bit closer. “Your…absolute majesty, flowing through your veins like a fount of, er- wonder! Why, I think anyone’d be a fool not to want a taste...” his voice lowered.
Feara didn’t lower her guard, but her shoulders squared, chest puffing up a bit. After having her heritage mocked all evening, the flattering validations settled warmly in her gut.
“Please,” He near whispered in a simpering tone, just one more time. “It’ll only be a taste, I swear!” Feara never once took her eyes off of him. After only a beat of silence, she spoke. “Fine. But not one more drop than you need, got it?” She jabbed a finger in his direction as a warning. Astarion smiled and sighed, his shoulders sagging like a weight had been lifted off of them. “Yes! On my good word. Now… let’s just make ourselves comfortable.” He smiled, beckoning for her to lie back down on her bedroll.
With a huff, Feara complied and lay down, tilting her head back to expose her neck. She was covered in tough scales, but her neck had sparsely covered spots where her vitals were only protected by dark skin. Astarion knelt over her once more. He took only a moment to appreciate the sight, before Feara’s burning glare prompted him to hurry up. Astarion closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and much like a striking snake, lurched forward and sank his teeth into her neck.
Feara sharply inhaled through her teeth. It felt like someone stabbed an icicle in her neck, but the pain soon faded to numbness. Adrenaline coursed through her, making her heart beat faster and quicken her bloodflow, providing a continuous stream to Astarion’s mouth. Feara couldn’t help but groan slightly. Perhaps she had agreed too hastily?... Maybe the tadpole really was screwing with her common sense.
Feara did her best to lay still, her twitching hands resisting every urge to grab Astarion and throw him off of her. After a few moments, Feara spoke up through clenched teeth. “Alright, that's enough,” Astarion’s mouth still remained latched to her neck. “...I said that’s ENOUGH!” She repeated, much louder this time.
Astarion seemed to snap out of his stupor, mumbling against her skin. “Mm? Mmn, yes, of course!” his mouth lifted away as he stood up, and Feara felt a patch of warmth linger on her neck, along with the sticky dampness of blood on the wound he had left. Feara grimaced as she sat up, placing a hand over the numb punctures. Astarion, however, looked elated. “That… that was amazing!..” He mumbled in awe, lapping up a stray droplet from his lips with relish.
“My blood, my birthright, given away like cow fodder...” Feara hissed under her breath, bitter regret already blooming in her chest. Astarion let out a small scoff, but seemed to regain his senses when he looked back at her. Mockery wouldn’t exactly keep him in her good favor.
“No, no, trust me, darling! This is a good thing! I already feel better. Stronger! Happy.” He gave her a bit of a strained smile. Feara couldn’t tell if that was his attempt at being charming, or if he was just trying to not look so ravenous.
The sorceress watched with a bit of skepticism, but… she could already see the subtle difference. He stood taller and prouder. His shoulders were squared, making him look a bit bigger. His red eyes shone brighter. If he weren’t literally undead, Feara probably would have said his skin looked fuller as well.
Feara looked him up and down and gave a small nod of approval. “Fine then. But we will talk about this later.” She added, pointing at him. Astarion nodded, still smiling. “Yes, don’t worry! Now, if you’ll excuse me… your blood is delicious, but since I could hardly get a good taste, I need to find something a bit more filling…” His gaze drifted back toward the treeline as he turned and slipped into the woods.
Feara huffed out a breath. What a night. She plopped down on her bedroll and laid back. She had just begun to relax when she heard Astarion’s footsteps stop.
“And… for what it’s worth,” Astarion said, his back still to her, “I won’t forget this. You’ve done a good thing for me.” His voice was lower, stripped of its usual theatrics. “I promise you won’t regret it.”
He didn’t wait for a response. A moment later, he straightened and vanished into the shadows.
Feara kept her eyes on the spot where he disappeared for a moment. She then turned her face toward the stars, watching them shimmer faintly through the smoke of the still blazing campfire. Her blood (now a bit drained) hummed beneath her scales, warm and restless. Exhaustion soon outweighed the unease. When she finally closed her eyes, sleep claimed her swiftly, leaving her wrapped in a deep, dreamless darkness.