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Gale nearly spat the cabernet from his mouth. "He's that Lord Zantharen?!" the wizard exclaimed, albeit a tad too loudly. "Your ex-lover is one of the most powerful necromancers from here to Waterdeep?!" The pinkish hue of Aethelle's face became much more pronounced.
"A wizard? I can hardly imagine you with a wizard," asked Shadowheart, tilting her head towards Aethelle.
"Wait. He's a wizard?" Ryn looked hopelessly at Aethelle.
"By the gods, Ryn, what did you think he was?"
"Weak." The paladin drank from his goblet again.
"He's quite the controversial topic as well. I have heard discerning whispers from other wizards of his questionable practices and morality." Gale's eyes narrowed as he took a sip of wine.
"What of his questionable personality have you heard, Gale?" inquired Shadowheart.
Gale's brow furrowed. "Other wizards say they've seen bizarre uses of necromancy from him. Now, necromancy itself is not inherently evil. But the person who wields it certainly can be." Gale paused, rubbing his chin. "Lord Zantharen has aroused some suspicion, but no one has been able to catch him in his deception. From the accounts I've heard, it seems the Viscount is most convincing."
"A smooth talker with coin to flow," added Astarion. "A dangerous combination."
Ryn smirked. "Lucky for us, Aethelle, that you've found most dangerous company to keep."
Astarion, Gale, and Shadowheart watched the two nobles walk through the front doors of the mansion. Ryn was off to his own abode, but Aethelle wished to have a word with him before he went. As they walked further down the path to the iron gate, the three companions peered from the windows surrounding the door, hoping to see what sort of discussion it was.
"After that dinner, I think I have more questions than answers," remarked Gale, his eyes inches from glass.
"I imagine this Torriel fellow isn't a simple former flame." Shadowheart stood next to Gale, peering through the same window.
"I think we should kill him," said Astarion bluntly, crouched in the window on the other side of the door.
"You know, for once, I agree with your inclination to murder," replied Gale. Astarion looked surprisingly at him.
"What?" Gale returned the vampire's inquisitive stare. "This fellow has been growing dangerous for some time now."
Shadowheart shushed both of them. "Are either of you even paying attention?" She pointed at the glass. "Look at them."
The two men peered from the windows once more. Aethelle's arms were crossed as Ryn heatedly spoke to her.
"I don't think he's mad at her, but mad at something else," said Shadowheart. "They're both upset about something."
"Or someone," added Astarion.
"It would appear to be so," murmured Gale, and in that moment the sorceress held her head in her hands. The paladin placed a hand on her shoulder before pulling her into an embrace.
"Is she..." Shadowheart trailed off. Her question didn't need to be answered, because as she spoke, the two elves pulled away, and Aethelle wiped the side of her face with her hand. The paladin gripped both her shoulders and said something to her once more, before they separated for the final time. The paladin began to turn towards the gate, the sorceress to the door.
The three companions darted from the window, sprinting to the center of the ballroom. A crackle of thunder was heard outside, and the pitter-patter of rain began on the rooftop and windows. Aethelle walked inside quickly, locked the door behind her, and then locked the door again with a spell.
"Ah, good, you're all still down here." Aethelle smiled without a hint of distress. "Ryn will come back tomorrow. When we've had some time to rest, there are a few things I'd like to discuss. Obviously, we have a whole slew of problems to deal with still in the Lower City, but I'm afraid I have some unfinished business here that may prove troublesome to us later if we don't handle it now."
"Delightful. I'm positively starved for another fight," grinned Astarion wickedly.
"We’d better get some rest, then. Goodnight." Shadowheart smiled softly at Aethelle before turning and walking away to her room.
"I will probably indulge myself in your library a bit longer, should you need anything." Gale looked empathetically at the two companions before saying his goodnight. The rogue and the sorceress watched as wizard paced away. Neither of them said a word until they heard the click of a door echo through the hallway.
"My dear, are you—"
"Astarion," the sorceress interrupted. "I... I'll explain more in the morning, I promise. I know I owe you that much and more." Her voice trembled as she fiddled with her hands.
"You don't owe me a thing, my love." His hand cupped her face.
"Oh, but I do," replied Aethelle, her eyes lowered shamefully. She placed her delicate hand over his, pressing it to her cheek. "But, I would love to ignore the outside world tonight, and just focus on us for a little while. Is that... is that all right with you?" Her hazel eyes peered up at him through long eyelashes.
Astarion chuckled softly. "When you look at me like that, how could I say no?" With his free hand, he gently tucked a strand of hair behind her pointed ear, before pulling her in for the gentlest of kisses.
Aethelle pulled away for a moment, and looked at the pale elf with a grin. Astarion looked at her quizzically.
"I bet," she said flirtatiously, "that even a rogue of your caliber couldn't catch me."
Before he could say a thing, she sprinted away, heading towards the stairs. He ran after her, closing the gap between them. Her laugh rang through the ballroom, and she floated up the stairs, her magic propelling her upwards.
"You rotten cheat!" Astarion called after her, now halfway up the stairs.
She giggled harder, running to the door of the master bedroom. Aethelle turned around to see where her lover was, and was surprised to see him closing in on her. She shrieked playfully and thrust one of the double doors to the bedroom open, but it was too late. Astarion pulled her upwards, spinning her around before nudging the door closed behind him with his foot.
"You know, if I was still a magistrate, I'd send you to the gallows for that," Astarion laughed and set his lover down, but kept her in an embrace. With a free hand, Aethelle cast a cantrip into the fireplace, igniting it.
"Oh no," pouted Aethelle. The glow of the hearth spilled onto them and throughout the room. "Not the gallows!" She leaned into him dramatically, the back of her hand draped in front of her forehead. "Whatever must I do, my most reverent magistrate?" Her voice was sultry as she looked up at him from behind her eyelashes once more.
"Oh, I could think of a few things," the vampire replied, his voice low, as he ran a hand down her waist.
Aethelle gasped. "Surely you would not compromise my honor, oh gracious sir?"
"Oh my dear, you are mistaken." He picked her up once again, her laughter filling the room. He lightly tossed her onto the bed and climbed over her, running his hand up her corset.
"Now, if I remember correctly," Astarion continued, propping himself up to whisper huskily into her ear. "Was this bothering you?" He frantically tugged at the ribbons of her corset behind her with his hand. The scent of vanilla and amber filled his senses once again, and he breathed deeply, thankful he could finally give in to his lust.
Aethelle bit her lip and nodded, eager to have the silk undone by him. Astarion chuckled at her bashfulness, and sat upright over her. Thinking he was going to simply flip her over and undo the laces of the corset on her back, she gasped when he grabbed the bust of the corset with both hands and promptly tore the fabric down to her navel. Buttons flew through the air, the rogue swiftly dodging one from coming in contact with his cheek.
"Astarion!" she exclaimed as she laughed through her astonishment.
He tossed the corset aside and leaned down to kiss her feverishly. He grinned into the kiss, pleased with his handiwork. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, returning his impatience. The bergamot from his skin and the wine from his lips washed over her. She moaned softly into him as her hands tugged at his shirt.
Astarion backed up off the bed and stood up, pulling the black shirt over his head before tossing it to the floor. He extended a hand to his lover, raising her up to stand in front of him, and subsequently pulled down her chemise. The dress slid down her body, exposing herself to him. He took a step back to admire what was under the lengths of velvet fabric; delicate silver lace wrapped around her bust and waist, holding the black stockings he couldn't get his mind off of from earlier.
Aethelle leaned forward to sweetly kiss him again while her hands fiddled with the buttons on his pants. The cloth eased to the floor along with the sorceress herself, who was now eagerly removing the rogue's underwear. She began gently planting kisses on his length, and Astarion gripped the frame of the canopy bed to keep himself from crumbling over.
He groaned softly at first as Aethelle took his head into her mouth, her tongue slowly swirling around it. Her hand moved up and down his shaft, the other running up and down his thigh. As his moans became louder, she rewarded him by taking more of his length into her mouth, her head slowly bobbing back and forth. The hand on his shaft imitated her movements, moving closer and closer to his pelvis as she took more and more of him into her mouth.
Astarion hissed through bared fangs as he felt his cock twitch over Aethelle’s tongue. He reached down and gently tugged on her forearm, eager to splay her on the bed and return her gesture. As she slowly let his length fall from her lips, he shuddered. Placing a hand beneath her chin, he guided her upwards and kissed her again, before playfully pushing her onto the bed once more.
Climbing over her, he kissed her skin as he made his way towards her lips, making sure not to ignore any part of her. He kissed her thighs, then moved up to her pelvis, teasing her by avoiding her slit. As he approached her waist, he made sure not to ignore the freckle slightly below her bust, and kissed it as well. Arriving at her breasts, he slipped a hand behind her back and unclasped the bra containing them, before tossing it to the floor.
Astarion’s hands ran over her chest as he kissed her, gently taking one of her nipples into his mouth and pressing his tongue against it. Aethelle moaned in approval, and moaned again when he returned the gesture to her other breast. He continued working his way up her body, trailing kisses up her sternum, when the elven woman brushed her hair from the side of her neck.
Astarion didn't need much more of an invitation. They had worked out the process quite well since the first night he drank the blood from her neck. Now, the initial pain of his fangs breaking her skin was unnoticeable, and most of the time her trance in the night was unbroken. The few times she did leave her meditation was not from pain, but from wanting to see him and hold him again.
Aethelle felt his teeth ever so carefully bite her as he began to feed. She stayed still as she could, aside from her arms wrapped around him. The first time he drank from her, he had almost drained her dry, but now they had a system for when she was feeling too woozy to go on. The process of vampiric feeding was intimidating, but she found it all too exciting as well.
As she indulged him, she felt her vision begin to blur, which was often her own tell for herself. She tapped his shoulder blade, and he quickly stopped and moved away from her neck, replacing where his mouth was with his hand. Flatly laying his palm on the wound, he pressed firmly to slow the bleeding. The sorceress gestured to the nightstand besides them, and Astarion opened the drawer to find a handkerchief, which he set between his palm and her neck.
As they paused their romp, their bodies intertwined as they waited for the blood in her neck to clot, Aethelle peered over at him, trying not to move around too much.
"Yes, my love?" the pale elf asked softly.
"Was it enough?" the other elf asked worriedly. She took great care in their adventuring to make sure everyone was well fed, even the dog and the owlbear cub in their camp. She did the same for her lover, often writing down where she noticed wild animals in the woods that he could hunt later. Aethelle knew that her blood, more fulfilling than that of an animal, was still not always enough to satiate him, especially if they had already been in a particularly bloody fight earlier in the day.
"You are always enough for me, silly girl," replied Astarion. He moved the handkerchief slightly to see if the bleeding had stopped, and was happy to see that it had. He smiled, pleased to know he had gotten better at minimizing her discomfort. Though she always insisted that she didn't mind it at all, he never wanted to overstay his welcome like the first time he bit her. When he heard the panic in her voice that very first night, he rose from her almost too quickly, and she yelped in pain. He had tried to play it off and thanked her, but when he left to go finish hunting that night, he was wrought with guilt.
Astarion dabbed at his chin with a clean part of the handkerchief before tossing that, too, to the floor. Before continuing, he inspected Aethelle’s neck once more, checking to see if anything was out of place. He felt a surge of strength return to him, and he sighed in relief.
"Are you all right, darling?" asked Astarion, still eyeing the puncture.
"I'd be better if you stopped fussing over my neck and found a different part of my body to fuss with," she remarked with a grin.
Once again, he did not need much more of an invitation. He kissed her lips softly before moving down to her hips once more, tugging her panties away from her body. He groaned at the sight of her sex and how it glistened between her thighs. Resting his head against her, he closed his mouth over her clit and lapped gently, eliciting a breathy moan from his lover. He continued, lapping further down her sex, tasting her greedily. He worked his way back up to her clit, swirling his tongue in circles, before pressing a finger into her.
Aethelle gasped and bit her lip, her hands in the elf's silver curls. Her body writhed from pleasure. Her hips, no longer under her control, bucked against him. She felt the blood rush to her face and the warmth spread over her body. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, hoping that she could reclaim a bit of control over herself. Astarion was in no such forgiving mood, and slipped another finger inside her.
She groaned loudly this time and felt the rogue chuckle against her skin. He was certainly enjoying himself as much as she was; he did indeed love toying with her.
Aethelle whimpered his name, and Astarion leaned up to look at her. She was truly a sight to behold, her face flushed and bewildered, her body exposed to him, the skin between her thighs shining in the glow of the fireplace. He could grant her relief, but he wanted her to stay on the cusp of her climax. That, and the view made him hunger for her like none other. He removed his hand from between her legs and moved back up to her face, his lips crashing against hers.
As they kissed fiercely, Astarion led the tip of his length into her warmth, slowly pushing into her. The two lovers moaned into each other's mouths, giving into the lust. They rocked back and forth together, limbs intertwined, lips never leaving the other's lips. Their hands traced the outline of each other's bodies, finding more and more places to leave touched.
Aethelle adjusted her leg and swung it over him, rotating her hips, and let the momentum of her movement flip him underneath her. Astarion panted as he smiled, and watched eagerly as the sorceress eased herself into position over him, guiding his girth before wriggling herself down on it. She let out a low and breathy moan, then began to buck herself against him. She placed one hand on his chest to help sturdy herself and used her other hand to rub circles around her clit. Astarion growled as he admired the sight of her, grabbing her hips with his hands. Each time her body came down on top of his, he pushed them a little closer together.
Astarion adored seeing his lover so utterly ravenous like this. He loved seeing her skin beneath his hands and feeling how soft she was. He loved watching her bounce up and down on top of him, her body shaking. He loved seeing her please herself, and he loved being the cause of her pleasure. He simply loved her, truly and completely. Suddenly he felt his length twitch, and he closed his eyes, fighting against the feeling. Aethelle’s body tightened in return, and she bit her lip in anticipation of letting the pleasure flood over her.
Astarion noticed this and interrupted her, pulling her down on top of him completely. She looked pleadingly at him, so badly wanting to feel herself climax. The look alone was enough to send him over the edge, but instead he rolled her onto her back once more. He briskly entered her as she gasped and clutched his arms. He took it upon himself to rub her clitoris as he thrust himself into her rhythmically.
There was no controlling herself now. Aethelle's moans were sporadic and gravelly as they left her lips. As her body began to shake once more, Astarion too felt himself quiver inside of her. He quickened the circular motions of his hand and braced himself on the bed, keeping the pace of his hips. He felt more and more of his silver curls fall down onto his face, no longer perfectly kept. He clenched his teeth, groaning and hissing as he moved faster and her body tightened around him.
Aethelle's head rocked back as she forcefully moaned his name. The warmth rushed over her like a tide, her legs trembling uncontrollably. The hand that Astarion had been bracing himself with on the bed now gripped the sheets tightly, his knuckles turning white. As he felt her constrict around him, he returned the moan with her name, falling over her and letting his body shudder as he felt himself release. They lay there for awhile, waiting for their bodies to completely be still again. Holding each other tightly, they caught their breath before kissing each other once more.
"I love you, Astarion."
His heart fluttered.
"I love you, Aethelle."
Aethelle nuzzled against Astarion in the porcelain tub, sitting quietly in his lap. The warm water hugged them after their very eventful day. Candles flickered around the bathroom, keeping the room aglow as the night rained on. She buried her head into him, and closed her eyes peacefully. His arms brought her closer into him, and he kissed her forehead softly.
Astarion’s breath hitched. Hoping she wouldn’t notice, he looked down at her, only to see her hazel eyes staring back. The rogue could deceive anyone, but not her.
"My little star, what’s bothering you?" Her eyes pierced him, unwilling to let whatever it was go unspoken.
"I..." his breath caught. He didn’t want to say a damned thing, but he knew that if he didn’t, he would still be the same old Astarion she met that fateful day on the beach.
"When I changed earlier..." his eyes lowered and broke Aethelle’s gaze, fearing her reaction. "I noticed the journal on your desk. I read your last entry, from several weeks ago." He exhaled and braced himself.
He heard the water splash as the sorceress stood up. He grimaced as the anxiety twisted his stomach and tightened his throat. To his surprise, when he finally worked up the courage to look back up to her, she stood smiling, a hand extended to him.
"Well then, let’s go finish reading it."
"You're not upset?" asked Astarion in disbelief. He took her hand, and the two carefully exited the bath. The sorceress wrapped a towel around him and pulled him close.
"I haven't been the most forthcoming with you about my life, though you have been more than open with me about yours," responded Aethelle, her brow furrowing. Astarion took the towel and kneeled in front of her, carefully drying her lower body before working his way up.
"Oh, I don't know about that. You do remember that you found out I was a vampire when I tried to bite you in the middle of the night, right?" chuckled Astarion.
Aethelle smiled, albeit a bit sadly. "You've told me much more since then. I've kept much from you, from everyone here. I never told you about Ryn, or my sorcery, or even my last name." Her face twisted.
Astarion patted her raven hair gently with the towel. "You say that as if you're to blame for my own actions," he said quietly. "We all have things we don't wish to talk about. Things we don't wish to relive. You don't need to tell me the things you can't bear to." He cupped her face gently. "I apologize for forcibly trying to find out."
Aethelle held his hand against her face. "I want you to know me," she whispered. "I want you to know everything about me." She brought her lips to his. "Come, let's go."
They walked back into the bedroom, the sorceress sitting in the chair behind the messy desk. Astarion stood in front of the desk, leaning against it. He stared at the mirror, reflecting only that of the sorceress's naked body.
Aethelle picked up the journal and read the last entry. Anger swelled over her.
"I don't know what that bastard did," she hissed, "but I know he had something to do with this." She gestured towards her head. "There is no way in all the Nine Hells that he asked to see me on the same day I conveniently was abducted and implanted with a tadpole."
"Would you like me to kill him for you, my dear?"
"If only it were so easy," she sighed. "He is a mighty necromancer indeed. His strength has only increased throughout the years. Unfortunately for him, mine has too." She began flipping to other entries in the journal. "We'll figure it out in time. For now, let me share a little bit of my past life with you. Ah! Here's a good one." Aethelle smiled and handed Astarion the small leather-bound book.
As he took the journal into his hands, he saw the entry she had turned to was dated six months prior.
Gods, I hate men. I am so bloody tired of the balls and the suitors trying to schmooze me. The only reason they still do after the whole Torriel nonsense is because they want power. Why not have a sorceress at your beck and call? I suppose it helps that I am rather beautiful. But no, they don't see me as a person. They see me as a challenge. A prize to be earned.
Would it be too much to ask that I met someone... sincere? Someone who saw past what I can do and loved me for who I am. Nobody believes the whole "will-they-won't-they" shtick I had going with Ryndel for the last few years anymore. And gods, it will never be Ryn. Paladins make me want to vomit.
If I ever do meet someone, they sure as hell won't be Upper City socialites. I've been going to the Lower City in disguise more and more often these last couple years, maybe I should commit to it. Or maybe I should just hop on a boat and sail to Neverwinter. But I've half a mind to say that people are arseholes everywhere.
"Did you meet someone sincere?" The rogue smirked.
"I met someone so sincere, he told me he was a bloody vampire," the sorceress grinned. "Then somehow, I still didn't stake him on the spot."
Astarion leaned over the desk, lifting her chin with her hand, his face close to hers.