Chapter Text
He watched her from across the campfire, her deer antlers draped with bright purple flowers. Karlach had made the lopsided heliotrope crown after dinner, tossing it on Tav’s head with a laugh and yelling “heey-oo!” as the floral ring caught on the small points. Tav had smiled and adjusted the crown, then struck a pose for Karlach, who had hooted with delight. The two had joked for a bit, Wyll, Gale, and even the strange toady one, Lae’zel, joining in, before the group had disbanded to head to their separate tents. Astarion had watched them from the shadows, absentmindedly flipping through an outdated history of Damara he had found on a corpse. Well, at least it had been a corpse by the time he'd found the book.
Tav was alone by the fire now, the flower crown still perched on her dainty head, her emerald hair tumbling around her shoulders, highlighting the bright bronze of her skin. Even through the darkness, he could see the gold flecks in the light green of her large, doe-like eyes.
She would do nicely.
The decision to feed on her had not come easily. It was transgressive; explicitly against Cazador’s orders. Astarion licked his lips. Good. Fuck Cazador. The tadpole really did seem to be protecting him, shielding him from his master. He would know how far this protection extended soon enough. If he had the power to feed on thinking creatures, another elf at that, there was no limit to what he could do.
Once that decision was made, Tav was the clear choice. She slept out in the open by the fire whilst the rest of the party slept in the safety of their tents. But beyond that, there were certain other inducements. Non-toxic blood, for one thing. Karlach was out of the question, with her infernal engine making her too hot to even touch. Despite a certain rough appeal to “Mama-K,” as she’d started calling herself, he preferred not to have his lips burnt off. He had similar concerns about Gale, who had recently confessed to having some sort of magic STD. The gith was a bit too alien for his first time, and besides, she rather scared him, so he discounted her too. Wyll had made the short list; he was young and healthy and strong, and Astarion had no doubt his blood would be succulent. But...he was also tediously self-righteous in a way Astarion simply didn’t want to deal with, provided things went south. He grimaced, imagining the superior way Wyll would scold him as he tried to run him through with his rapier. Not worth it. That left Shadowheart, who was, he must admit, very tempting. She was equally as pretty as the little wood elf, with smooth pale skin and a graceful neck. Maybe he would feed on her one of these days, but right now she was too tense, too alert. That artifact she carried was making her paranoid, and he'd heard enough about Shar to know her followers were largely trained assassins. He was pretty sure he could sneak up on her, but even so, why take the risk?
Tav, however... He really didn’t know much about her, just that she was a wood elf, although he had never seen antlers like hers before, and that she had an archfey pact, which, now that he thought about it, probably explained the antlers. Her accent suggested she was from the far east, but she had been snatched by the nautiloid in Waterdeep. That was it. The small elf had somehow risen to the position of team leader, he still wasn’t quite sure how, but it felt natural to let her make the decisions. She was proving to be a soft-hearted but competent leader, who at least wasn’t going to get them killed through stupidity or pride. He certainly didn’t want to lead. He was too busy contemplating his future. The possibility of freedom and power, just over the horizon.
Astarion grinned.
But even as he sunk into his pleasent fantasies, he was aware it was a farce. He wasn’t free. Deep down, he knew Cazador was still watching him. You won’t be able to feed on Tav, a scared little voice whispered inside him. I can try, he answered back. You will fail, the voice replied, with grim certainty. You always fail.
She was laying down now, the crown put to one side, her mouth open slightly against the flat straw pillow beneath her. Her long green lashes cast shadows across her heavily-freckled face, her long curling hair splayed around her like a verdant halo. She looked very peaceful, and intensely vulnerable.
Astarion silently closed his book and placed it on the mossy forest floor.
It was time.