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Like a falling leaf, the fading ember dances around the crinkled page before gently resting on the top-right corner. A delicate finger quickly snuffs it out before brushing it away. The little flame didn’t seem to distract the reader from her task. Neither did the crackling of the wood as it burned in the pit. In fact, under normal circumstances, the firepit and the crickets would have been wonderful white noise for her studies. It was the people around the fire who made her eyes skip over words, having to start pages over and over again.
The group was relatively quiet, each unwinding after the day’s travel. Every so often, though, little conversations would break out, and it would shake Sephrin out of her studies. Still, she wouldn’t take her eyes off the page of her book. She wouldn’t dare look at the people around her, even after traveling with them for the last few days. The only one she trusted, of course, was her older brother. When she did glance up at him, she saw Glynren laughing at a comment Gale made. Of course, he was having no problems on this little excursion of theirs. Glynren never shied away from the company of others. Despite the vast differences they all had, Glynrem had managed to stay somewhat civil toward everyone in the party. So far.
“You really think killing the leader will make the goblins go away?” Glynren asks Wyll after another lapse of silence.
Without missing a beat, Wyll nods. “Without their leader, they’ll falter. A goblin leader gets that role by being the strongest in the tribe. Kill the leader and you send a message to the rest of the tribe.”
Sephrin watched her brother frown in thought. “Makes sense, I suppose. But they would still outnumber the Tieflings. Surely they would realize they could still win the battle.”
A snort to her right made Sephrin flinch. “You’re giving them too much credit,” Astarion smirks. “Those little cretins have about as much common sense as a rock. Actually, I might be giving them too much credit with that little simile.”
Glynren shrugs and smiles. “Fair enough. I must admit I don’t know much about goblins. Too much of a City Elf.”
“As am I,” Astarion counters. He seemed to enjoy having another High Elf in the group. “But I suppose that’s the difference between Elves from Neverwinter and those from Baldur’s Gate.” The smirk made it clear he thought himself smarter than Glynren.
Another shrug. “I wouldn’t say that,” Glynren chuckled. “Don’t use my ignorance to judge the others of Neverwinter. Sephrin here is probably smarter than the both of us combined.” He placed a hand on his sister’s head.
Eyes wide, Sephrin tries to focus on the book in her lap, her heart beating in her ears. Why did Glynren have to bring attention to her? She was content being forgotten by the group. She knew why he did. It’s why they travel together. Why he protects her and builds her up to be more than she really is. Because her father would have wanted him to.
“Is that so?” Astarion purred, and Sephrin slinks further into the ground. He’s mocking her. She knows it. It’s how many High Elves speak to her until Glynren glares at them. “And here I thought she was just decoration.”
“Nope,” though his voice is jovial, Sephrin can hear her brother giving Astarion a pointed look. “She’s more than a pretty face.”
Instinctually, Sephrin smacks her brother’s hand away. “Shut it!” she hisses. She feels her heart racing again as she freezes in place. She should have just let him talk about her. Now she brought more attention to herself than before.
“It talks!” Astarion exclaims.
“Calling a Half-Elf an ‘it,’” Shadowheart rolls her eyes. “How original.”
“Can we please get back to the task at hand?” Sephrin was grateful for Gale’s interjection. It seemed to work. For a while, the group talked strategy, planning how to assault the goblin camp and get to the leader, debating if it was the best plan, complaining about how this really wasn’t their problem. It allowed Sephrin to get her heart rate down, to tune them out, and to go back to being ignored.
As the conversation died down, Gale stood up and stretched. “We should best call it a night, then, if we’re going to be infiltrating a goblin lair.” He made his way to his bedroll, and the others start making their own preparations as well. Lae’zel remained by the fire, sharpening her sword.
“Who’s taking the first watch?” Shadowheart asked.
Before anyone else could think to respond, Astarion volunteered. Perhaps they were all tired, or perhaps no one cared, but no one seemed to think it odd how eager he was to keep watch while they slept. Sephrin did, though. But she would have been suspicious of anyone other than her brother keeping watch, which is why she had been having trouble sleeping through the night. While none of them have ever asked her to keep watch, she sort of did from the safety of her bedroll. Not that she would have been any help if trouble came by. She knew she was the weakest link in the chain. She was not a fighter by any sense of the word. Could hardly hold a sword. Could barely cast a spell. She knew if it weren’t for Glynren, if it was just she who had been found by this little group, she would have been tossed aside the first chance they had.
Sephrin crawled under her blanket, keeping the book close to her chest. For some reason, she felt it would keep her safe. At first, the sounds of the forest soothed her, lulling her into a pseudo sleep, somewhere halfway between sleep and consciousness. A strange sort of place where dreams became reality and reality was but a dream. Perhaps that’s why she didn’t notice it at first. The sound of grass crunching. The weight on the bedroll. It wasn’t until she felt the breath on her neck that her eyes flew open.
“Shit,” she heard him mutter. She didn’t dare move, like a deer in a clearing, afraid to make itself known. He hastily whispered, “This isn’t what it looks like.”
What did it look like? Many scenarios flashed through Sephrin’s head. A few memories, but they made no sense in context. She wasn’t drunk so that didn’t make sense. No, he had to have been trying to kill her surely. Suddenly, she had the sense that she should move, now. She swung the book at him and tried to scramble to her feet, but though he grunted at the hit, he was able to seize her shoulders and clamp a cold hand to her mouth.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he insisted, keeping his voice low. “I swear. I’ll explain everything to you but you mustn’t scream or wake the others.”
She processed the information. If he had wanted to kill her, why would he do it here so close to the others? Unless the others were in on it as well. But even in her panicked frenzy, she was able to concede how convoluted that idea was. After a moment or two of silence, she finally gave a little nod. She wasn’t released right away, perhaps as a precaution, but once she was free, she turned around, not wanting her back to someone who could very well be an enemy.
“I wasn’t going to hurt you,” Astarion reiterates, holding his hands up. “I just needed to...well, I just needed…” he sighs. “...blood.”
A lump forms in her throat. Of course. She had always found something odd about Astarion’s appearance. It caused her to study him whenever possible, to sneak glances when he wasn’t looking. Whenever she did, she found her heart skipping a beat and her stomach turn to stone. Now she knew why. A vampire.
“The...the boar…” she managed to murmur, barely a whisper really. But Astarion must have heard her because he nodded.
“Yes, the boar,” he sighs. Sephrin finds herself watching his mouth as he speaks. “I didn’t have time to dispose of it properly. I hadn’t expected us to be returning to that area so soon. But this proves my point. I’m not some monster. I feed on animals: boars, deer...kobolds. Whatever I can get. I tried to find something tonight, but..” he looked almost ashamed. “...I’m too slow right now. Too weak.”
The entire time he explained, Sephrin watched him through wide eyes. As he trails off, she gives another little nod. “I...see.”
Briefly, his brows furrow as he studies her, and he waits a moment before continuing as if expecting more to come from her. “And I’m sure you can see why I didn’t tell any of you. I was sure you all would drive me out...or drive a stake through my ribs.”
Her heart skips another beat. So, he was afraid of getting tossed aside as well. Perhaps she was hoping for a kindred spirit. Perhaps that’s why she allowed herself to glance up at his eyes. They bore into hers, almost as if he were trying to grab her mind. She realized he could with the worms in their heads.
“I needed you all to trust me,” he says slowly. “And you can trust me.” He reaches a hand out to her arm, perhaps to offer a comforting pat, but he retreats the second he sees her flinch. A tight smile and a nod. “Of course. Silly of me to even consider it.”
As he starts to stand up, Sephrin’s brain races. Every fact she knows about vampires, what she knows about blood, what she had observed of Astarion and his character the last few days. As far as character goes, he wasn’t a saint, but he wasn’t a savage either, at least not that she had noticed. Before she realizes it, she clutches his sleeve. Cocking a brow, he stops, kneeling on one knee.
“I believe you,” she whispers.
Again, he pauses, waiting for her to continue. When she doesn’t, he smirks. “Well, I’m flattered.” His free hand moves to fiddle with his hair. “Do you think you could...trust me a little further?”
For some reason, she feels her heart racing again, though she told the truth. She believes him. If he had wanted to feed from her, he could have just done it. He could have carried her off into the woods, drained her, and buried her in a shallow grave. She wouldn’t have been able to fight him off, and she knew he knew that. Maybe she thought he had an ulterior motive. Maybe that’s why she kept studying his face, his eyes. Why her heart felt like it was going to burst from her chest.
“Just a taste,” he presses, his voice gentle, like he was soothing a child. “I swear.”
Another little nod. Astarion’s shoulders relax. Sephrin nibbles on the inside of her cheek, her eyes looking just past Astarion. He shifts on the bedroll, pulling Sephrin closer to him, her hand still gripping his sleeve. Delicately, he pushes her hair to one side, realizing she wasn’t going to do it herself. She flinches but nothing more. But when his hand reaches for her collar, to give himself more access, her hand grips at his wrist tightly, her knuckles turning white. He leaves her collar where it is, bringing his mouth to the crook of her neck.
It takes all her strength to keep from crying out, a searing pain shooting from her neck that rushes to her head. But it quickly fades into nothingness. For the first time in a long time, Sephrin’s mind was silent. Her eyes unfocus, her body slackens. But what snaps her back to reality is her chest. There is no throbbing, no heartbeat echoing in her ears. Desperately, she clutches his wrist, digging her nails in.
There’s a delay, but Astarion pulls away, panting, blood dripping from his lips. Just as before, Sephrin is still, quiet, one hand at her chest, trying to feel a bump, the other still latched to him. Her head rests on his chest, unable to stay up on its own. His free hand gathers the remaining blood from his mouth, lapping it up. “That...that was...amazing.”
There. She finds it. It’s faint, but she can feel her heart again. But she doesn’t say a word. Just as well, because Astarion continues. “My mind is finally clear. I feel strong. I feel...happy.” He looks down at her neck. The wounds are already closed, the skin around it red. It will bruise come morning, he can tell.
Though she remains silent, he can feel Sephrin breathing, feel her try to push herself away. Perhaps he took too much. He moves her back onto the bedroll, though her hand still clings to his sleeve. She looks up at him, though it’s unclear if she can actually see him. Delicately, he pries her fingers open, allowing himself to escape her grasp. Her eyes begin to droop. “This is a gift, you know. I won’t forget it.”
When morning comes, Glynren isn’t too concerned when his sister doesn’t wake. She was usually a terror in the morning, grumbling and glaring daggers at anyone who crossed her path. He was willing to let her sleep in while he and the others started packing and getting ready to set out. He kept an eye on her, not wanting to wake her up until it was closer for them to leave. He even debated with the group about having her stay at camp.
“She’d be safer here,” he argues.
“But by herself?” Gale counters, glancing down at their sleeping companion.
Glynren sighs. “I would rather someone stay with her, but I’d also rather we have all hands on deck for this little excursion.”
Furrowing his brows, Wyll studies the girl silently for a moment. He crosses over to stand over her, trying to see if he was just seeing things, a trick of the light. But as he gets closer, it doesn’t disappear. He bends down and brings a finger to the red and purple spot on her neck. He finds the bumps immediately.
“She’s been fed from,” he grimaces.
“What?!” Glynren pales, rushing over. The commotion is enough for Sephrin’s eyes to flutter open. Her brother calms down a bit, but he still kneels down, examining the bite himself.
“But how?” Shadowheart cocked a brow. “We all took turns keeping watch last night. Unless someone fell asleep on the job.”
Astarion fiddles with the collar of his undershirt, leaning against a nearby tree. He eyes the others, studying them. “Certainly it would make the most sense that it was whoever was on watch last.” His eye falls on Gale.
The wizard holds up his hands. “It wasn’t me. I use an altered restoration spell to keep exhaustion at bay when I need to stay awake. It never fails.”
“We don’t know you did that,” Lae’zel narrows her eyes.
Glynren frowns. “Sephrin, do you recall what happened?”
While her eyes had been open, she was having trouble processing what was happening. Her mind was muddled, sorting through the events of last night. When she didn’t answer, Glynren’s frown deepened. He focuses on her face, trying to reach into her head. It wasn’t right, he knew, but he needed to know, for her own safety, what happened.
teeth, a gift, death, pain, blood. just a taste.
Slowly, he faces Astarion, fire in his eyes. Already, Astarion has his hands up. “Now, now, let’s not be too hasty.”
“You. You drank from my sister?!” Glynren was stalking toward him.
“Wait, you’re a vampire?” Gale blinks.
Shadowheart folds her arms. “You know, that explains so much…”
“You DRANK FROM MY-”
“Glyn…” His sister’s voice stops him from grabbing Astarion by the collar. When he whirls around to face her, she’s propped up on her elbow, though she still looks a bit unfocused. “Glyn, it’s, it’s okay.”
“Okay?” Glynren grits his teeth. “Okay? A vampire almost kills you and you’re telling me it’s okay?”
Sephrin winces as she sits up. She even tries to stand but quickly gives up on that plan. “He, he didn’t...he didn’t take that much. I hadn’t eaten anything yesterday, so the, the bit he took left me…”
Glynren studies her, then glares back at Astarion, who flashes him a dazzling smile, not bothering to hide his fangs now that his secret was out. Rolling his eyes, Glynren turns back to his sister. “Still, he took blood from you.”
“He didn’t take,” she manages to get to her knees. “I gave.”
There was a beat before Glynren pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why would you do that?”
“I’m not a monster,” she whispers.
Once again, Gale broke the tension. “So, we’re traveling with a vampire. Of course, we are. Our journey would have been too normal if we weren’t.”
Glynren shoots him a look. “You’re okay with this?” Gale just shrugs.
“Given our group’s nature,” Shadowheart interjects, “I don’t see much harm. After all, we’re all monsters in the making.”
“You too?” Desperate, Glynren looks to Wyll. Surely the monster hunter would have some sense.
Indeed, Wyll seemed to be studying Astarion, who continued to give them all a shit-eating grin. Wyll sighs. “I never thought I’d see the day I’d be hunting with a vampire. But I’d be a fool if I didn’t admit he’s been helpful so far.” He must have seen the disbelief on Glynren’s face because he nods to the elf before pointing to Astarion. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you though. And no wisecracks about having us for dinner.”
“Are we done?” Lae’zel huffs. “We need to get going.”
One last hope. Glynren gives Lae’zel a pleading look. “With him?”
Lae’zel hitches her sword to her side. “Don’t care. But should I wake with so much as a drop of blood on my neck, I will end him.”
With a twitch, Glynren finds himself turning toward Astarion. The vampire holds out his hands and shrugs smugly. “I’m here in the spirit of openness and honesty, to work together as a team.”
“Honesty?” Glynren scoffs. “You lied to us!”
Astarion rolls his eyes. “I didn’t lie. I just kept a secret. It’s not like we’re the epitome of sincerity. Besides, your sister will be fine. The wooziness will pass. And she’s not going to turn if that’s something you’re worried about. I’m not a ‘true’ vampire.”
By this point, Sephrin was up and preparing for the day, trying to slink into the background. Between this and last night, she seems to be worming her way into the group’s conversations, and she does not like it.
“A spawn, then,” Wyll nods. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re able to be out in the day.”
Again, Astarion makes a show of shrugging. “You tell me. I should be cinders in this light. I hadn’t seen the sun for two hundred years before we crashed here. Someone, or something, wants me alive.”
Sephrin glances over to him, not quite looking at him but in his direction. “What do you mean?” she murmurs. Just like last night, she doesn’t think it’s loud enough to hear, but Astarion does.
“Well, they’ve changed the rules, my dear, whoever they are,” he replies. “Some of the rules, at least. Running water still burns like acid, and I don’t know if I need an invitation to enter a house. As for my other quirks…” he shrugs and smirks. “Well, we can figure those out in time.”
Sephrin stays quiet a moment, nibbling on the inside of her cheek. “The tadpoles?” she offers.
Before anyone else could respond, Lae’zel interjects. “We’re wasting time. Let’s move.” She heads out without waiting for anyone to follow. With a shrug, Shadowheart picks up her supplies and makes her way out of the camp, followed by Wyll.
“Come on, Glyn,” Gale puts a hand on the elf’s shoulder. “Sometimes you have to pick your battles. And today, ours is with a goblin leader, not a vampire spawn.” With a pat on the shoulder, he joins the others.
“Well,” Astarion says with a clap of his hands. “That settles that.” He slinks over to a nearby bushel before giving Glynren that unsavory smile. “Shall we?”
Glynren gnashes his teeth, glaring daggers into Astarion. “Come on, Sephrin,” he says, still watching the vampire. “Let’s go.” He lingers a moment to show Astarion his disgust before heading out.
Still a little wobbly, Sephrin shoulders her bag and starts to follow her brother. A hand on her shoulder stops her. Before she can say anything, something red dangles in front of her face. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust. An apple.
“An eye for an eye,” Astarion explains before dropping the apple in her hands. “A tooth for a tooth.”
She examines the apple as Astarion starts to head out. “It seems your brother was right about one thing,” he continues, glancing over his shoulder. “You are the smarter of the two of you.”
Sephrin watches him saunter off, a spring in his step, a confident swagger she noticed before. Despite her bloodloss, she felt her face grow warm. It must be from exerting herself. With a tilt of her head, she takes a bite of the apple before following the others.