Chapter Text
To Astarion's defence. None of this was his fault. It had come straight from the left field, and he had been provoked for no apparent reason.
Another reason why he hated the Gur. They kept trying to kill him. So, he decided to exterminate them like the pest they were first. He just hadn’t expected there to be more of them pesky creatures.
Astarion hadn’t fled. The vampire ascendant never flees. He had simply retreated in a timely but rushed manner.
When he had approached their camp in his usual cocky and haughty manner, he hadn’t expected them to have company. He wasn’t sure if the individual had been a cleric or a druid, but she cast some kind of magic he had been too arrogant to be concerned about. After all, what could a bunch of Gur possibly threaten him with now.
He was powerful, the strongest vampire to ever exist, and they were foolish mortals thinking they could rebel against him.
Half the camp died by his claws and shadow magics in an attempt to protect the caster as she muttered her incantations. He could smell the rush of their fear and desperation, like a thick ambrosia in the air. It made his teeth tingle with bloodthirst – not to drink but to kill. He would never lower himself to sup from the flesh of Gur, the lesser beings that they were.
He was curious as to what spell they could possibly think could ever threaten him, but he was not foolish enough to lower his guard. So by the time the shaman had finished her long casting time, he was prepared.
The moment he saw the spell shoot in his direction, it sparkled like moonlight to reflect their goddess, he shifted into a bat and took to the air. Arrogant to think it would be that easy to dodge. He hadn’t expect the spell to be of the tracking variant. It curved like a magic missile and hit him straight in the chest.
The impact propelled him into the forest, and he lifted his white wings to cover his face from the branches and leaves he hit on the way.
Astarion slammed face-first into a birch trunk. If he had still been human, his neck would have surely snapped.
As a vampire, he was somewhat hardier, but the shock of the impact still shook him for a moment. He let out a guttural noise from his chest that sounded similar to a gasp of pain.
He dropped into a crouch, panting for a moment before he let out a series of colourful profanities in the form of squeaks. He drew his left wing to him and winced at the pain that shot through him. It was twisted from the impromptu journey through the forest – but he was sure it would heal soon.
The impact against the trunk had hurt more than that spell at the very least. He couldn’t believe he had actually been concerned the Gur had something up their sleeves that could actually harm him. He could still feel the residues of the magic ghost along his skin, harmless to his far superior form.
He attempted to shift back to his humanoid form, drawing on the whispers of the night to transform back into his beautiful self. Yet the magic was sluggish to his command, skirting just out of reach despite his frustration. A flash of silver light slivered up his body before evaporating.
He gritted his teeth in anger, it seemed whatever the damn shaman had done, kept him from temporarily drawing on his vampire inheritance. The moment he got his powers back, he was going to slaughter them all, he thought darkly. But for now, he was stuck as a bat.
Which brought him back to the situation at hand. Him, the vampire ascendant, retreating in a timely but rushed manner from the manhunt chasing him.
Of all the pathetic situations I’ve ever been in…
He looked down at his injured wing disdainfully and let out a low and frustrated squeak. He didn’t know how long it would be before he could shift back, and it grated on his nerves.
He could feel the ground shaking through his delicate leathery wings. The thump-thump-thump of the Gur, no doubt led by that shaman, stomping through the forest in their search for him. They were being particularly loud. He had no doubt they knew he could not have gotten far in his current form, but they were still making far more noise than they needed to. Either they were stupid, careless, or trying to keep him panicking.
He wasn’t sure how far he would be able to fly on a broken wing – that wasn’t even healing – it would take nothing for them to find him.
He would have to find a place to hide.
He was far too conspicuous in the forest. His pale white form stood out like a sore thumb against the dark foliage, but he had no choice but to carefully hop along, keeping low to the ground and taking cover where he could. The Gur were good trackers, he knew that much about them. There was little hope of being able to hide by simply ducking behind a root or a patch of tall grass.
He hated the feeling of the forest floor under his paws, the twigs and rocks that bit into his soft underbelly and the feeling of the mud squelched against the bottom of his feet. The forest was too quiet, he could hear each branch creak and moan as they rubbed against each other and the leaves rustling against the bark as if it were a cacophony of alarm bells.
Gods below, he missed his palace. Once he got out of here, he would take a long, hot, bubble bath. Sip on some wine – or blood – or both. He hadn’t expected there to be an issue, yet now here he was. Covered in mud, and cold. Being hunted by the damned Gur again. If he had hated them before, it now grew to loathing. Why couldn’t they just lay down and die already?
The squeaking of other bats flapping through the night drew his attention, his large, sensitive ears picking up on it on a primal instinctual level. He could still hear the murmur of the night just out of reach, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still influence the small beasts.
He focused on the sound, trying to figure out where they were. It would be easier to hide in a den of other bats after all. It didn’t take long before he followed the noise to a fenced off area. Several large man-made boxes hung from the trees that the tiny creatures kept climbing in and out of,
It took him a second to realise this was meant to be some kind of sanctuary for bats. How lucky was he to find exactly what he was looking for. The gods must truly be smiling down on the vampire ascendant tonight.
Despite his broken wing, he was sure he could make it that far. He jumped into the air, flapping his way into the entrance of the closest box. A sharp pain shot through him as he used the injured wing, feeling the small, fragile bones rub against each other. Normally he would have been healed by now, but the damned spell must be interfering with his innate healing ability as a vampire.
He gritted his teeth from the pain, but managed to get inside without any issues. He instantly pushed away the other bats to make room. They squeaked at him in protest, but must have sensed his innate authority as they shed away from him, giving him as wide of a berth as they possibly could in the small space.
He huffed in annoyance as he curled up. It was so cramped. He would have to stay here until his ability to shift back returned, he had no other option. Hiding here amongst the other bats was a good camouflage in case the Gur passed by. They would probably not think the arrogant and powerful Vampire Ascendant would ever lower himself to sleep amongst vermin.
Normally he wouldn’t… but Astarion hadn’t survived two hundred years as a lowly spawn without having survival instincts. He would do anything to survive after all.
Astarion tucked himself into the corner as best he could, wings folded tightly around him in a poor attempt to stay warm. The cramped space was uncomfortable, and he was unable to get comfortable on the hard wooden floor of the box.
He could feel the bats around him shifting and twitching in the cramped space, constantly moving and rubbing up against each other. Occasionally he could feel tiny, clawed feet digging into his back as they walked over him. He could also smell them, a rich and musky animal odour, coupled with the bitter tang of guano. He was surrounded on all sides by small, warm bodies.
He tried to shut out the sounds of the squabbling and squeaking from the other bats as he tried to get some rest. But he didn’t dare escape into the solace of dreams, too pent up and paranoid that the Gur might find him. He needed to be on guard just in case.
Whenever a bat got too close for his liking – like they wanted to cuddle, he would snap at them angrily in warning. Let out a soft warning hiss, accentuated by his large fangs.
The bravest of them seemed to be a larger, black male. Occasionally he spread his wings, nearly knocking them into Astarion because the space was so small. It grated on his nerves. It the bat was so insistent on spreading their wings, he could go outside, dammit. It chirped at him a few times, but the vampire ignored it. It smelled like it was covered in its own urine. Disgusting creatures.
Astarion didn’t know how long it had been, before his ears picked up the sound of approaching footsteps. Even on the grass the noise felt deafening. He stiffened slightly, his large ears instantly twitching and turning towards it, trying to pick up as much information as he could.
If his undead heart still beat, it would probably be in his throat currently. He wasn’t afraid, the vampire ascendant would never! But he was a teensy concerned. He was just a defenceless bat with a broken wing currently, cut off from his powers.
“The bats have been erratic all morning. Do you think something got into one of the roosts?” a distinguished male voice spoke. There was a hint of worry and a lisp, indicating that the individual was most likely speaking through tusks. A half-orc, Astarion guessed.
Good, it meant the intruders weren’t Gur. They were usually only humans. Some of the tension in his body eased.
“Something has definitely agitated them,” a female voice agreed. It was calmer and more measured than the first, but echoed the sentiment. The soft thumping of footsteps continued to approach. “There's no sign that a fox got to them last night. I don't even think one could get in here. All the roosts seem intact.”
“Then why do you think this bunch got so rowdy?”
“Might just be the change in weather putting them on edge.” A pause. “We should check just in case though. Would hate to lose some of the pups if any got aggressive.”
The tree suddenly shook as someone was climbing up to the side of the roost. Astarion heard a long, drawn-out creak and the sound of the door to the box being opened. The soft light of early morning spilled in from the outside and letting in a blast of cold air that left the bats squeaking with discomfort. It also let in the smell of the forest. Fresh pine and mud blissfully chased away with the earthy, musky smell of bats and guano.
He instinctively drew himself into an even smaller ball in the corner. The cramped, squirming space made it impossible for him to shift position into a more defensive one. He was stuck in his tight little corner like a mouse in a trap.
He had no doubt the two intruders could hear the squeaks from the agitated bats, but it was more than possible they would just pass it off as normal bat behaviour.
He hoped so. Because he was in no condition to fight if someone discovered his true identity.
“I think I found the culprit,” the woman called out with a soft voice, her voice low enough not to agitate the small creatures any further, “it seems we got a visitor.”
Astarion’s gnashed his teeth together, there went his hope of going undetected. His eyes had finally gotten used to the sudden bright light, and he could now see the invader.
She had a petite, round face, framed by long, pointy ears. Her cheeks were covered with dainty freckles that were partly hidden beneath a pair of round glasses. A birthmark in the form of a black mole dotted the skin above the corner of her left mouth.
Urgh… A gnome.
Revulsion shot through him. He had literally gone from one bad place to another. First hunted by Gur and now discovered by a gnome of all things. Some evil gods out there were looking down laughing at him, he was sure. Could he be in a worse position?
“Why, aren’t you a pretty little thing,” the gnome cooed at him with a soft voice, her hand reaching out towards him.
He instantly recoiled, his fangs bared and at the ready to bite if she tried to touch him. It twisted his broken wing behind him, causing a soft hiss of pain to escape him before he could stop himself. The intruding hand immediately ceased at the hostility he was showing.
Though before she had any chance of retreating her hand, the large, black bat from earlier jumped onto her hand. His dark wing spreading almost territorial. Perhaps he didn’t like intruders into what he considered home – but Astarion couldn’t help the rush of relief, nonetheless.
“I think he has a broken wing. I’ll have to take a better look to see if it can be fixed,” the gnome called down to her companion, her voice still low and soft spoken. She then turned her attention back to the box. She didn’t seem bothered by the black bat. “Let’s get you inside before Laszlo decides to try to mate with you. That bat is always horny.”
Astarion stiffened at her words, torn between his disgust for being manhandled by a gnome and his concern over a horny bat. He eyed the black one warily, hoping against everything that he wasn’t the infamous Laszlo.
He heard the gnome mutter a soft incantation, and the other bats in the box calmed down. Even Laszlo seemed to have grown docile as his wings lowered and he did not resist or try to bite her as she gently nudged him away to create enough space to reach Astarion.
She must have cast some kind of spell to calm them.
He hesitated, not wanting anyone to touch him without permission, but also knowing that if he didn’t pretend the magic worked on him, then it would tick her off that he wasn’t what he appeared. Just a harmless bat with a broken wing.
In the end, he caved to caution, knowing that survival was more important than his dignity. He stayed docile as she gently picked him up like a bird with a broken wing. Her fingers circled around his form, making sure not to jostle his wing as she cradled him to her chest. She closed the door again before climbing back down to the ground.
Astarion was still and silent throughout the descent, letting the gnome carry him in a gentle grip against her chest. He was repulsed by the thought. He was the Vampire Ascendant, who was she to treat him like a helpless child! But he forced himself to remain motionless instead, forcing his body to keep still as if he was in fact a normal bat, and not an all-powerful vampire.
Though the feel of her warm, callused hands against his skin, how her shirt smelled faintly of lavender. The warmth of her body heat against his bat form, her steady heartbeat beating against his side… It felt rather nice.
He almost wished she would drop him. It would be less demeaning than this.
Once they were on the ground, the half-orc hovered over her, curiosity glinting in his eyes as he peered down at the two. “Is that a northern ghost bat, miss Tav?”
Tav, that must be the name of the gnome. What a simple and ordinary name that fit perfectly for one of her kin.
“Northern ghost? No, no.” Tav chuckled softly, as if it was a silly idea. She peered over her glasses as she examined him with a critical eye. “This is an albino vampire bat,” she answered, her hand rubbing over his wing in the guise of being soothing and making him comfortable. However, Astarion knew better: she was checking his injury.
“And it’s a male, based on the presence of an uropatagial gland,” she concluded, she shifted her hold on his body, gently stretching out his wing to examine it more closely, and to better determine what was wrong with it. The touch seemed almost tender, and Astarion found himself suppressing a shudder at the foreign sensation of it. She was being so careful with him.
The vampire ascendant tried so hard to ignore the gentle touch, but it was difficult to do so. She was being surprisingly respectful for a gnome. He expected her to manhandle him without a care, and he wouldn’t be able to stop it. That’s how Gnomes were!
But instead, she was handling him carefully. Her fingers were gentle and precise as she inspected him, her hands warm despite their callouses.
If he almost found himself leaning into her as she turned him over in her hands, he would never admit it.
“What is he doing this far north? They don’t usually roost in this area,” the half-orc asked after a moment, his gaze respective as he accepted whatever the gnome told him.
“I’m presuming this one was either chased from its colony or attacked by a predator of some kind. Look at his broken wing, it’s why he can’t fly. He’s probably hungry and thirsty and very stressed, that’s why he’s so agitated and hostile.”
The half-orc let out a sympathetic snort. “Poor little fella,” he looked Astarion over with a mixture of pity and concern. It was so demeaning, almost worse than if he had outright laughed at him. Astarion was the Vampire Ascendent! The ruler of the night!
“He has a broken ulna,” Tav finally concluded with a light frown as her fingers stopped prodding him. “The wing seems pretty bad, but with time and rest he should be able to fly again. He will have to be my houseguest for the time being, the other bats might just aggravate the wound if I leave him here.”
Being a houseguest of a damn gnome. Of all the things in the world that could have happened to him, this was possibly the worst. Not only that, but he wasn’t able to object to it. He was a vulnerable, helpless bat who had to depend on a gnome of all things to care for him!
He felt like tearing something apart with his fangs, but instead he just let out a pathetic squeak. It was a humiliating noise.
This was so undignified. He was an incredibly powerful vampire, not some exotic pet.
Yet he could do nothing as the pair turned to bring him to their humble abode. This was his life now, at least for a short while. He would be at their mercy until he regained his powers and could turn back into his true form. At least it would keep him safe and under the radar.
As much as he loathed to admit it, it was the perfect hiding spot.
Despite his injury, to both his wing and his pride, Astarion refused to be a cooperative patient. Sure, he would let the gnome apply some healing ointment on his wing. But aside from that? No. He needed to salvage some of his dignity after all.
After applying the ointment, Tav carefully wrapped him in a small blanket. Like a baby being swaddled. Humiliating, he was stuck, unable to move – which was probably the point in order to keep him from using his wing and aggravated the injury. He still hated how vulnerable it made him. He couldn’t run if the Gur burst through the door.
In an attempt to show his displeasure, he kept making squeaking noises at her. Soft, grumpy chirps to distract her from her work. She didn’t seem bothered, instead took it all in stride as she smiled indulgent in reply before turning back to her large tomes of books.
At some point through the day, she had tried to feed him. Put a shallow bowl of cow’s blood next to him. It tasted stale and unappetizing. He had sworn once to never go back to eating animal’s blood after surviving on a diet of putrid rats for two centuries.
He refused her offer of blood, even as his stomach growled from hunger. She thankfully didn’t push the subject.
Tav’s cottage was very homely. Much how he would assume a gnome would live. Herbs and books everywhere, plants creeping up to the ceiling. He wasn’t the only bat or animals being tended to, as several cages lined the wall. Though he was the only one with the misfortune of being swaddled like a baby. Humiliating.
He kept making chirps and small squeaks at her, hoping she would actually understand him. But it seemed he had been taken in by the only gnome who couldn’t speak to animals. Typical of him to find a defective one – though deep down he knew that only a specific kind of subrace held that innate power. Admittingly, he had never cared to learn more about the race to properly recognise what she was.
Being a disgusting gnome was enough for him.
The rest of the day went relatively painless. She mostly left him be in the cage – he was lucky enough to be the sole occupier. Not that he would accepted any other option of course. The only time she interacted with him was when she needed to apply another coating of that infernal ointment.
The ointment itself was… effective. But the way it was applied made him feel demeaned. She held him in her hands like a kitten as she spread the substance across the injury.
He couldn’t swat her away. He had to sit there like a doll, letting her manhandle and humiliate him further.
Astarion learned more than he wanted about the duo that had ‘rescued’ him. The half-orc’s name was Ferdinand. He acted as Tav’s assistant, constantly demure and soft spoken in her presence. If he was not tending to the animals, he was constantly asking for recommendations on some research he was doing.
They were a funny duo. A large, muscular man taking orders from a small gnome. Astarion was sure the half-orc could bench-press her easily if he wanted to. Yet he dutifully followed her every order. It might have something to do with the fact that the vampire could smell the interest on his green skin. He definitely had a thing for his boss.
Tav on the other hand… was doing some kind of research. She seemed to be a clever woman – for a gnome at any rate – with a no-nonsense attitude. But she cared for the animals in her charge.
At some point during the afternoon Astarion started to doze off. He was tired, injured, and he had to begrudgingly admit he felt safe and comfortable enough swaddled in the blanket to try to get a nap. At least there was someone between him and a possible Gur invasion.
At some point during the evening, Ferdinand left the hut. Astarion didn’t really care or pay attention to it. He only startled awake once he realised Tav was locking all the cages and doing her nightly routine before bed.
His body stiffened with unease. Feeling even more vulnerable now. He watched her warily as she disappeared into a room at the top of the staircase and didn’t return.
No, no, no. NO. This would not do.
His precious life was unfortunately in the hands of this woman, this gnome, and she had the audacity to leave him alone and unprotected. No, that was not going to fly. He demanded her return and guard over him in case the Gur came barging through the door during the night.
He yelled at her to come back, rather angrily and demandingly, trying to use his vampiric compulsion, hoping that some of his powers would have returned by now. Yet the only thing that escaped his throat was chirps and squeaks. Thankfully the noise seemed to trigger the other bats as they joined him in the cacophony as his backup singers.
Tav rushed out of her bedroom, wearing nothing but a nightgown, her hair pulled into a braid, and she held a quarterstaff in her hand. Her eyes scanned the room warily and suspicious, expecting an intruder no doubt. Once she realised there was no danger lurking, she leaned the staff next to a wall and carded her fingers through her hair with a tired expression.
She went over to the closest cage, the soft muttering of an incantation under her breath as she cast her magic to calm the small creatures. Unfortunately for her, Astarion was no simple beast she could so easily charm. Once she reached him, he met her gaze with an unimpressed scowl.
She let out a gentle shushing sound as she stepped up to his cage. One hand reached into the cage and gently ran through his fair. An annoyingly maternal gesture.
“You sure are a vocal little fella,” she commented with tired amusement. “You are very demanding for such a tiny, adorable thing.”
Astarion bristled at the comment. He was the vampire ascendant, not a cute pet. He would make sure she paid for her insolence once he regained his powers. His scowl only deepened, and he made a grumpy noise in reply.
“You're making my night quite difficult, little bat,” she murmured, her voice soft but firm. “I would appreciate it if you would stop screaming and agitating the others.”
He hated the way she spoke to him, treating him like he was a petulant child or a spoiled familiar. It didn’t matter that he was in a bat’s body right now. He was still the same person who had walked these lands for nearly two centuries, who held power, authority, and reverence. He was not some tiny, adorable thing to be pacified with a single petting.
He felt like trying to bite her fingers when she reached into the cage to ‘comfort’ him, but he knew it likely wouldn’t work. He wasn’t in any position to offer a physical threat to her. He was powerless to stop her. He couldn't bite her, he couldn't scream in anger, all he could do was sit there and take the humiliation.
Astarion scowled up at her, letting out a low growl. He was not the slightest bit impressed by her soft but firm demeanour.
“Shh, shh,” she responded with a soothing voice, leaning against the bars. It made her nightshirt creep up and expose her bare legs through the gap. It was… distracting.
She continued to gently scratch the fur on his head with her fingers, a soothing gesture meant to pacify him. He was loath to admit it, but her fingers running through his fur felt embarrassingly good. The worst part about her tender ministrations was how effective they were. Under that gentle touch his body relaxed, his muscles untightened, and he found his head subconsciously leaning into the caress. The tension left him, and he stopped growling.
It was some kind of animal instinct he couldn’t quite shake.
“There you go, little one,” she cooed, continuing the gentle scratching on the top of his head. “I know you are usually active during the night, and you must be anxious and worried away from your colony. But I am not a creature of the night, and do in fact need some rest.”
He barely allowed her to pull away from the cage before he started to squeak at her in protest again. He refused to admit that he missed the warmth of her touch and how nice it had felt. He needed her protection after all. If the damned Gur stormed the cottage, he needed her as a shield.
Tav sighed at the sound of his distressed noises. She squatted down by the cage, her expression one of exhaustion as she seemed to try to figure out what he wanted. After a moment she reached in and gently scooped him up. Making sure not to jostle his wing. It was a simple task, seeing as he was wrapped up like a tiny bat burrito.
She cradled him gently against his chest, he could feel the cloth of her nightgown against his head and her soft breath against his fur. It was an odd feeling. Despite his annoyance, the steady beat of her heart was strangely soothing.
Tav rose from her crouching position, and with her free hand she picked up the abandoned quarterstaff. Astarion watched her with curiosity and a sense of glee as she walked back up the staircase towards her bedroom.
It was a modest room, with only a comfortable bed, some clothing hanging over a chair and a dresser. By the windowsill, a basket with a deep, blue pillow sat. She gently placed him on top of it before tucking him in to make sure she didn’t accidentally pinch his wing. He tried to pretend he didn’t miss the warmth of her body as she retreated her hands.
“Sleep,” she instructed him with a firm expression, “make any more noises and I’m kicking you out to sleep in the roost with the rest of the bats.”
She… was joking right?
Surely it was an empty threat?
Astarion watched her warily as she moved around the room. Surely the gnome wouldn’t be as cruel as to kick a wounded animal out to sleep with the… well animals. Those damned boxes were overcrowded and reeked. He would do anything to not go back out there.
Besides, he had gotten what he wanted. If the Gur did show up, they would probably harass the other bats first. He was safe and secure up here with Tav. He had no more reason to complain, especially with how comfortable this pillow was.
It took a few minutes before he was properly settled down. The pillow was rather comfortable, and his small body relaxed into the soft material. The fact that it smelled faintly like her was only a minor concern.
The room itself wasn't a bad place, at least compared to the animal enclosure below. There were no other creatures here, and the room was mostly quiet. Although his sensitive ears could hear Tav’s soft breathing and the occasional crackle of the dying fire in the fireplace.
Eventually, despite his best efforts, he fell into a light doze.
The next morning went relatively quiet. Tav woke up, re-applied his ointment before helping the rest of her charges. Astarion was rather pleased at the fact she took care of him first. As it should be. He was the vampire ascendant after all.
He had made quite a ruckus when she had tried to put him back into the cage. He was not going back in there where he would be helpless and trapped. It was bad enough to be bundled up in this blanket that kept him from moving. Worst case scenario, maybe he could roll off the table and hide if the Gur did show up.
After a minute of that, the gnome had simply left him in the basket. Seeing as he had calmed down, she didn’t bother him again. Though he did notice she kept glancing in his direction. To make sure he wasn’t causing trouble, no doubt.
Astarion spent most of the day watching the comings and goings of the cottage. It was painfully mundane and boring, only occasionally broken up by Tav’s gentle touch while she applied his ointment.
He found himself idly watching her with mild curiosity despite his best judgement. He tried to tell himself that he was just bored and needed something to occupy his mind, but he found his gaze lingering on her for a little too long regardless.
He tried his hardest to not think about the fact that the faint scent of her skin lingered on the cushion around him. It was a trivial thought, an irrelevant detail that he should not have spared a second thought to. Yet he found himself dwelling on it, nevertheless.
At midday, the half-orc returned. He was carrying a basket with some food from the closest town – Astarion tried to pick up the name of said town, but the information was frustratingly kept from him. Honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure how far he had managed to fly before his wings gave out on him.
Astarion watched with a sense of disdain as the half-orc looked in his direction. He let out a disgusted sneeze as Ferdinand approached the table. The man reeked of animal droppings. There was guano on his boots, feathers in his hair, and Astarion was pretty sure there was something foul stuck between the poor man’s teeth.
He had probably been out to check on the roosts before entering the hut. At least he could have done them all the favour of taking a bath. Though Tav didn’t seem at all concerned with the filthy state of her companion.
He heard Tav ask the half-orc about his time with the animals, but Astarion was far too distracted by trying not to throw up in the basket to fully pay attention to their conversation.
“How’s the little fella doing?” Ferdinand asked once he had relayed the information, his voice still carrying its usual soft, gentle tone as he approached the table.
Astarion let out an audible squeak in displeasure in response.
“He is being quite the demanding guest,” she replied with a light shrug. She opened the basket to pick through the food that her companion had brought. “A bit of a diva, honestly. Quite opinionated about his arrangements. No matter what I try, he refuses to go back into the cage. I had to leave him on the table.”
Ferdinand reached the edge of the table, peering down at the basket he was lying in. Astarion squirmed, attempting to bury himself in the blanket to hide from the grotesque smell following the man like a cloud. It didn’t help he wasn’t a pretty face to look at, unlike Tav –
Not that he found the damned gnome attractive at all. The mole above her lip was unseemly and her round glasses were too large for her face.
“I expect he’s nervous,” Tav added, “animals can be very uneasy when removed from their habitat. There’s probably a whole colony of bats out there, looking for their lost brother.”
Astarion’s ears twitched slightly, a flicker of hope blossoming in his chest. He hadn’t thought about it before… but once he hadn’t returned, he was sure his spawns and servants would come searching for him. He was their lord and master after all. He could only pray they find him before the damned Gur did.
Why had he been so arrogant as to not tell anyone where he was going? In the future he would compel them to go search immediately so he wouldn’t be put in this awful position again.
He was so distracted by his thoughts, that he hadn’t noticed the half-orc had reached into the basket to touch him. He instantly bared his fangs in warning with a low hiss, his ears pressing against his scalp in a threatening display – as much as a tiny bat could be at any rate.
He would not allow anyone to pet him – ignoring the fact he had let Tav do so last night. He was a creature of death and shadow. He was a creature of fear and respect, not some adorable little toy.
At the hiss, Ferdinand instantly snapped his hand back, probably far used to animals trying to bite him. No wonder, he was a thick-headed brute not respecting personal space.
“Have you named him yet?” he asked, his voice low and soft.
“Specimen 1412,” Tav replied from the kitchen, her voice muffled by the wall. Astarion had been too preoccupied to notice she had left him alone with this idiot.
The vampire bristled at that. His title back home was much more impressive, yet he was apparently being called a simple number in this little cottage. It was rather demeaning, honestly.
Ferdinand didn’t at all look surprised at the answer. Instead, he gave a little sigh, “you are allowed to name them, you know.”
“Feel free,” came the nonchalant reply from the kitchen.
Astarion scowled up at the half-orc at the appraised glance he was given. He did not like the thought of this inferior mortal naming him anything. Unless he of course recognized Astarion’s superiority and gave him a regal title.
“I think I’ll call you Moonpie,” Ferdinand decided after a moment.
The vampire’s whole body stiffened in outrage at the nickname. He let out an indignant squeak, and tried to bite the filthy idiot's huge finger, but the blanket still kept him from doing much more than wiggling pathetically in the basket.
How dare this lumbering oaf name him. He was a creature of divine beauty and power. The vampire ascendant. He would not be addressed by anything lower than Lord and Master.
That’s it, he had considered letting them live for sheltering him, but this was an indignation he couldn’t ignore. He was going to kill this half-brained idiot first. Not even drain him dry, he probably didn’t have a single intelligent braincell worth tasting.
At the ruckus he was making, the other bats startled from their sleep in their cages. Sounds of flutter of wings and confused chirps joined the cacophony – Astarion was starting to wonder if perhaps he did have some magical influence over them. Perhaps they could sense his emotions. Good, at least he was able to show his displeasure.
Tav returned from the kitchen in a rush, watching the scene with a perplexed expression. “What happened?”
Ferdinand wore a pinched and worried expression as his hands hovered over the basket, uncertain whether he dared to pick Astarion up or not in an attempt to calm the noise. It only helped fuel his outrage.
“I don’t know, they just suddenly became distressed. I swear, I didn’t do anything,” his voice trembled lightly, making the lisp increase.
There were too many things that Astarion wanted to scream at Ferdinland right now. That he was an imbecile and oaf and probably a dullard too. That this was absolutely unacceptable, to be named after a simple, disgusting pastry. He would get his revenge on this lumbering idiot.
Astarion continued to make as much noise as possible, squirming around in the basket and trying to kick away the blanket. The moment he got free he would jump at the half-orc’s face and scratch it bloodied. He didn’t care when his injured wing suddenly flared up with pain from his movements.
“He is going to hurt himself if he keeps struggling like that. Hold him still,” Tav instructed as she hurried over to them.
Ferdinand hesitated only for a second, before listening to his boss. His loyalty outweighed his survival instinct as he once again reached into the basket. This time Astarion didn’t bother to hiss in warning, instead, he immediately sunk his teeth into the invading finger, causing the half-orc to let out a sharp hiss of pain.
“By the Oak Father,” he exclaimed as he quickly withdrew his hand. A small trickle of blood ran steadily down his finger. The smell of it made the vampire’s stomach grumble with hunger. It had been over a day since he had a proper meal.
Despite his hunger, he took twisted pleasure in the fact the half-orc yelped. He deserved it, the idiot, the simpleton. He would get worse when Astarion found a way to get free.
His dark thoughts were interrupted by Tav pushing away Ferdinand and reaching into the basket, her small hands wrapping around his still wriggling form as she picked him up. She was careful yet firm as she tried to hold him still and stop him from jostling his wounded wing. She gently fixed the blanket around him before cradling him against her warm chest. Her fingers ran through the fur on top of his head in a soothing circle in an attempt to calm him.
Much to Astarion’s chagrin, it worked as well as it had last night as he found his tiny body relax. He was starting to wonder if she was casting a spell on him, one subtle enough that he didn’t notice. The mixture of her scratches, warm body and lavender scent was rather calming.
Once the vampire’s tantrum was over, the other bats seemed to stop too. They calmed and returned to sleep in their cages. It only reinforced his belief that he had a small influence over them. Proof that he was regaining some of his powers. Now only if his healing returned post-haste, because now that the adrenaline was no longer pumping through his tiny body, his wing was starting to ache. Little bolts of electricity and pain shooting from the injury.
He was starting to slowly regret his tantrum… but he simply could not accept the humility of being named after a pastry. Being a bat was more than enough, thank you very much.
“You are a spoiled little princeling, aren’t you?” Tav sighed softly as she kept scratching him. Normally he would have hissed at her for her insolence, but he didn’t want her to stop. So, he kept silent and simply lifted his chin to make her move her finger there.
Ferdinand glanced with uncertainty between them, not daring to get any closer. Instead, he was wrapping a tissue around his bleeding finger.
“There was something I forgot to tell you,” he suddenly pipped up, a light frown appearing between his brows, “I saw someone lurking around the roosts last night. I didn’t get a good look at them, but they were armed with crossbows.”
The gnome glanced from the bat in her arms to him. Her expression one of concern and frustration, “trophy hunters you think? Perhaps they were the one to spook our little prince here away from his colony. We will have to go check if any of the other bats have been hurt or missing.”
Astarion tensed up at their conversation. It could only be the Gur. He had forgotten about them for a moment, he had just been too focused on being insulted by that lumbering oaf. But now his brief moment of comfort disappeared as soon as he heard the word hunters.
He felt a shiver run down his spine. He couldn’t let them find him like this. Trapped in this weak, tiny form, vulnerable and defenceless. He should have known they wouldn’t give up their chase so easily. He just hadn’t expected them to find him this quickly.
If they had already tracked him down to the roosts, he could only thank his lucky star that this gnome and her lumbering assistant had found him first. Urgh, imagine being thankful to a gnome of all things… but she might have just saved his life. He would just need to make sure she protected him until he regained his full powers.
He had seduced plenty of helpless victims before… being stuck in a tiny bat body might be a challenge but one that he was up to try. He at the very least needed to be on his best behaviour. He tried to look as cute as possible as he let out a soft purr at her fingers rubbing his head.
If the smile he was awarded in return made warmth blossom in his chest, he wilfully ignored it.