mickume/dnd_drow · Datasets at Hugging Face

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"What is it?" Aethelle looked concerningly at her friend.
"I'm... I'm not sure she'll take kindly to me," Shadowheart's eyes moved towards the ground. "I'm not a high elf like yourself."
Aethelle felt her gut wrench. Her friend was not wrong, after all. Shadowheart was a half-elf, and most halflings faced much criticism, let alone in the Upper City. Throughout their adventures so far, the companions had witnessed much prejudice against tieflings, gnomes, and githyanki alike. This was no different.
"Well, I suppose if she doesn't, we'll just have to burn the building down. A twinned spell Fireball would take care of this place quickly, don't you think?" Shadowheart let out a laugh, and Aethelle grinned, pleased with herself for changing her dear friend's mood.
"You are a frightening sorceress indeed," the cleric said as she caught her breath.
"I mean it, Shadowheart. I won't let them insult you. I promise," the sorceress reached for the cleric's hand and squeezed.
"A frightening sorceress," smiled Shadowheart, "and a great friend indeed."
The two opened the front door, the bell ringing out as they entered the quaint modiste. Aside from the dresses and silks, the store was noticeably empty of customers. Shadowheart and Aethelle looked at each other before walking further inside. Not even the modiste was in sight.
"Hello?" called out Aethelle.
"Ah, finally!" A dwarf with bright red curls emerged from the back. Her cotton dress was held by a silken blue bodice that matched her pale blue eyes. Freckles decorated every corner of her face and arms. Aethelle felt her friend ease considerably. "Nice to meet you, my ladies." The dwarf offered a curtsy. "My name is Gigi. How can I help you?"
"A pretty name indeed," commented Aethelle. "I am Lady Aethelle Veluthezara, and this is Lady Jenevelle Hallowleaf, visiting from Waterdeep. We are here to commission your work for the Viscount Zantharen's grand ball tomorrow. One of the Faennawedd ladies recommended you most admirably."
The dwarf looked at her with wide blue eyes and her jaw dropped. "You... you want me to dress you for the ball?"
"Indeed I do. Have you not outfitted for a ball yet, miss Gigi? I understand your business is quite new."
"No, I have not," Gigi said, her eyes still wide, as she rushed to the desk to collect her tape measure. "Let alone the Viscount's! This will be a great opportunity for me indeed!" The dwarf squealed excitedly before composing herself. "My apologies, allow me to collect myself."
Aethelle laughed heartily. "Do not concern yourself, if you are that excited to craft something, then I trust your gowns will be resplendent indeed."
The dwarf's eyes widened again. "You're a rare breed of noble, ma'am. I see why Miss Orchid keeps you in high regard."
"Ah, so it was Orchid Faennawedd you saw? She has quite posh taste indeed. You should be proud to have attracted her attention, then." The dwarf's face reddened against her freckles to Aethelle's praise. "It will be no time at all until she sends the rest of the Faennawedd women to you, and then you will surely have your hands full!"
Gigi let out a sincere laugh. "Well, if I am to design two dresses for the Viscount's ball, the Faennawedd ladies may have to wait in line once the town arrives at my doorstep!" The dwarf put her hands on her hips, eyeing the two spellcasters up and down. "Now, what is it we're wanting?"
"I trust your expertise," replied Aethelle. "I could use something fresh. What about you, Lady Hallowleaf? Any silks catch your eye?"
Shadowheart's eyes grew wide at the rows and rows of fabrics in the store. "Is it poor of me to say I have absolutely no idea?" Gigi let out a laugh as she gestured the two women to the back of the store, beginning to take their measurements.
"Ma'am, I'd rather you have no idea than too many. You'd be aghast at the number of alterations I had to make for Lady Winterbloom." The three women's laughter filled the store as they chatted amongst the silks.
The three men stood in the tailor’s workshop, keeping perfectly still as they were measured and pinned. Ryn let out a sigh.
"I do hate the tailor," said Ryn, quite exasperated despite the men only just arriving. The tailor scowled at the paladin.
"I believe what my friend here is trying to say is that he cares not for fashion," piped up Gale, hoping to avoid being poked by an angry seamster.
"I truly do not understand why. Do you not like presenting yourself in a little more fashionable manner than just chainmail all the time?" remarked Astarion.
"A pity, then. No wonder you’ve yet to wed," retorted the rogue. The tailor attending to Ryndel chuckled quietly.
"I can assure you, I have not wedded because I simply do not care for any of the socialites," the paladin huffed. "I want someone who could split my skull in two, and I can also assure you, most could not."
"I'm surprised you never asked for Aethelle's hand," commented Gale bluntly.
"What?" the paladin and the rogue said in unison.
"Is she not your type? She certainly could split your skull in two," replied Gale nonchalantly. The seamster working on the wizard's attire paused for a moment to laugh quietly into his basket of purple fabric.
"No, Gale, I never felt romantically towards the person I revere as a sister," hissed Ryn. "Gods, never put that gross image in my head ever again."
"Very well. I'm also surprised you didn't make more of an attempt with our dear cleric," continued the wizard, who was now clearly having fun prodding the paladin.
Ryn sighed. "She is beautiful, yes, but I know better than to continue advances when they've been so harshly rebuked." The paladin looked at the ground, head in his hands. "Do not tell me you've have more luck with relationships than me, wizard."
Astarion laughed. "I don't believe he has."
"A story for another day, perhaps," said Gale as he cleared his throat, turning to Astarion. "Now, I'm more interested in how you did end up finally getting the sorceress not to reject you," the wizard remarked.
"Ugh, does everyone know about that?" the vampire sighed, his hands on his hips.
"She rejected you at first? Ha! Of course Aethelle did." The paladin laughed as the tailor struggled to keep his pins in place. "Now this, I want to hear."
"There's nothing to tell. And as you know, it worked out in the end, anyways," the rogue crossed his arms.
Ryn's eyes narrowed as he looked over to Astarion. "You know, I could also say the same about you, regarding marriage. You and Aethelle seem quite close, why have you yet to ask for her hand?" Astarion choked on the air, much to Gale's chagrin.
"Gee, I wonder whatever it could be!" sassed Astarion, gesturing to his tadpoled head.
"Even more reason to ask. Who knows? We could face a fiery death tomorrow and she would never know your true intent." The paladin looked to the wizard, who surprisingly nodded in agreement.
"We... have discussed it," muttered Astarion timidly.
Gale and Ryn's heads whipped around.
"You have?" inquired Gale in disbelief.
"What, do you truly think I hadn’t thought of it at all?" the rogue hissed.
"Well, my friend, I know you do not need my opinion, but I think you are a great match for her indeed," said Ryn. "I have never seen my oldest friend so taken with anyone."
Astarion exhaled. "Really?"
"Really. But if you hurt her, I will ensure you never see daylight again."
"Understandable," replied the rogue.
"Well this I must know. Do you have a ring yet, Astarion?" asked Gale, his interest thoroughly piqued.
"Again, I believe our current circumstances have delayed much in my endeavors!" rebuked Astarion.
"Surely you have found many jewels on your adventures," added Ryn. "Or at least met someone keen with a hammer."
"That's it!" Gale, who had been the most thoughtful of the tailors around him, suddenly jumped up. The seamster rolled his eyes as he redid a pin on the wizard’s slacks. "You ought to ask Dammon to forge something. If he can prevent Karlach from spontaneous combustion, he can surely craft a ring."
"Ugh." Astarion put his head in his hands. "Gods forbid I ever tell you both anything about my love life ever again."
"Oh, I suppose we shall stop picking on you. Now Gale, it seems we will be standing here for some time more. Please do enlighten me of your love affairs," smiled Ryn slyly.
As Gale and Ryn conversed, Astarion's mind drifted elsewhere. The two men were right; if they all perished in the quest to defeat the Elder Brain, would he be able to live with himself if he never asked the sorceress for her hand? He closed his eyes and sighed. He never thought he would ever find someone to love as much as he did Aethelle. Yet here he was, enamored with her, in the midst of a grand adventure. And not for a moment, did he ever think that she would reciprocate that love, especially after all that had transpired between them previously.
The sorceress sat along the campsite cliff in the Underdark, her legs dangling over the abyss. She gazed up at the bioluminescent fungi trailing the rocky caverns. The darkness spilled on endlessly, only brightened by the varieties of mushrooms that grew exclusively to the underground grotto. It was unlike anything she had ever seen before.
The myconids, the mushroom-humanoid inhabitants of the Underdark, had graciously let them set up their camp nearby their settlement. Not only that, a few of them stood watch for the adventurers, too. Now, everyone could rest through the night, with the exception of the two elves who naturally did not rest as long as the others. She stared ahead at the caverns, thinking of the party's plans for the coming day.
"Here's my little treat with her cheeks all flushed." His voice was rich as took a seat next to her. "You will come to my bed tonight, won't you?" said the rogue, ever so smoothly.
The sorceress laughed, feeling the warmth in her cheeks. "Very presumptuous of you. I'm undecided what I'll do tonight yet." She returned his devious tone, her hazel eyes peering at him from underneath her eyelashes.
Astarion's heart ached with her gaze. He let himself go too far at the party, and afterwards he had spent a couple days scorning himself for indulging in the happiness of the sorceress's presence. After all, he could offer her nothing. He was still a slave to his master, and he was still a vampire. No, he needed to get it together, and to stick to his plan. If Aethelle didn't help free him from Cazador's grip, he would surely perish. Astarion had to ensure his survival first, not his trivial feelings. She was just another casualty in his conquest.
"Ah, you need a bit of enticing, let me see..." his voice trailed off as he thought to himself. Aethelle looked at him quizzically.
"When I'm with you, I feel practically alive, yet I crave only to die again with you," the vampire gestured dramatically.
The sorceress laughed. "So many honeyed words, as usual."
"Not half as sweet as when I tasted you."
Aethelle blushed, silently cursing her cheeks for giving her away.
"Hmm, let me give it another go: Every part of your perfect body whispers temptation," murmured Astarion as he outlined her with his hand in the air. "It's as if the Gods made you just to ruin me."
"You're sweet, and sillier than I thought," she chuckled.
"I can go all night with the flattery, but is that really all you want?" He paused, hungrily taking in every inch of her with his gaze. "How about if I said these little words... Everyone's favorite..."
He paused, feeling his throat tighten and his body tense. "I love you."
The sorceress looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Having fun, are you?"
Astarion laughed. "I am. It's hard not to, with you." Aethelle rolled her eyes and smiled.
"Now, as much as I relish standing around and saying all my favorite lines at you, I'd much rather we got to experience each others" full portfolio of talents once again." His voice dripped with a sickly sweetness.
The sorceress sighed. "Oh, all right," she grinned. "I'll come find you once I know everyone is asleep."
The vampire smiled, his fangs peeking out from below his lips. "I'll be waiting."
Aethelle stared hesitantly at Astarion's tent. Everyone in the camp was asleep, and she had finished her plans for the next day, ready to see the elf she realized she was falling for. She stood frozen, her legs unwilling to move. She had no idea what she was doing. She had heard legends of vampires that Ryn had told her when they were kids, and none of them had happy endings. But Astarion was free now, at least, freer than before. When the tadpole was gone, what then? The sorceress had a inkling their travels would eventually result in the slaying of Cazador, but it was too soon to tell.
She sighed. She knew Astarion's words weren't truthful. She knew she would never find someone who truly loved her again. Then why did it feel so real when they spent the night at the party together? She hadn't felt her heart flutter like that in a long time. Maybe it was just because years had passed, and she liked the attention. Yes, that had to be it. She so desperately wanted to believe Astarion wanted her for who she was. But deep down, she felt like her feelings were all just a game to him.
She laughed at herself, thinking on Ryn. He would have told her to run for the hills after meeting Astarion for the first time. So why wasn't she? She felt ashamed at herself for being naïve, for playing right into the rogue's games. But there was a tiny voice in the back of head telling her that there was something real to him, something more than just fairytales with bad endings. She felt her brow furrow and a shudder run down her body. Maybe she could just live in this fantasy for a little while, the fantasy where he did truly care for her. Whenever he eventually left her, it wouldn't hurt as bad, because she'd have been prepared for the inevitable the whole time.
She walked over to the tent. He must have heard her footsteps, emerging from the draped canvas to meet her.
"I hoped you would come. I have missed you. And now you're all mine, and I'm all yours," the vampire drawled. "Until morning, at least. Let's see where the night takes us."
She smiled faintly at him, taking the hand he offered to her, and crawled into the tent to lay besides him. Her mind screamed at herself for being so gullible and so stupid. While her subconscious raged, a fleeting memory suddenly danced across her mind.
There she was, bloody and bruised on the marble floor of her home. Aethelle was looking at the elf in front of her, his tousled black hair and grey eyes. Tears streamed down his face as he looked at her. She remembered feeling so tired, like she could finally know what sleep felt like. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of ginger hair, a silver sword emerging from a hilt. Then it was nothing but black.
"Aethelle?" the rogue's voice ripped her from the thought. There was concern in his pale face, his crimson eyes wide. They two elves lay beneath the blanket, but for some reason, the sorceress felt so, so cold.
"Yes? Sorry," she laughed nervously. "I was just lost in thought." Her voice subtly splintered.
Astarion looked at her worriedly. "Is there something wrong?"
"No! Not at all," she said as she smiled weakly. "Just a tad cold." She frantically blinked and averted her gaze, trying to wall off any tears from breaking through her eyelashes. "Will you hold me, for a bit?"
"O-of course," Astarion replied gently. He pulled her into her arms and she buried her head in his shirt, hoping he wouldn't notice. She breathed slowly, trying to contain herself.
"You can leave, if you want," he whispered softly.
"I could never leave you."
The sorceress and the rogue both caught their breath at her words. Aethelle didn't mean to so outwardly unravel in front of him, but she was. She pulled back for a moment to meet his gaze, their eyes both wide with surprise.
She kissed him fervently, bringing a hand to cup his face. His hand found a spot in her hair, pushing their lips closer. Each time one of them pulled back to catch their breath, the other reeled them back in. They kissed wildly, their bodies crashing together in an attempt to hold each other even tighter.
Aethelle couldn't take it anymore. She wanted him, all of him, body and soul. She flipped themselves over, rolling on top of him. He looked up at her, surprised at her impulse. She met his lips again as she fiddled with the buttons of his pants, before slipping her way down to his girth.
The sorceress gently took his shaft in her hand, lapping at his length while pushing her hand delicately back and forth. She heard his quiet groans of approval, and took his head into her mouth, swirling her tongue. As she quickened the pace of her hand, she pressed her tongue more firmly against his head. It did not take long before she tasted the warmth drip from him. She released him from her mouth, causing him to growl at the sudden removal. Taking her free hand, she took the head of his cock and squeezed gently. As he dripped even more, she took the pad of her thumb and swirled it in circles around his tip.
The rogue began to lean up to return the gesture, but she quickly pushed him back down with her hand. He looked at her in bewilderment as she held his gaze through half-lidded eyes, moving back down to his length and bringing him into her mouth once again. She moved further and further down his shaft, her hand moving along with her, filling the places where she couldn't quite reach.
Astarion was becoming more and more vocal as she worked him. Worried about the proximity of their tent to their companions, Aethelle lifted her head up off his girth, causing him to gasp.
"My dear," she whispered sultrily as she unbuttoned her pants. "Any louder and we may get complaints." She quickly removed the rest of her garments, tossing them aside before meeting his lips with hers once more. She felt Astarion kick off the rest of his pants, and as he leaned up, she pulled his shirt up over his head.
She sat her wet sheath on his abdomen, teasing the vampire by sitting just above his cock. She reached behind herself and held his shaft once more, moving her hand gently up and down. As she worked his length, she bucked delicately against his skin, her mess dripping down his side.
"Oh gods," hissed Astarion, gripping her thighs. "You torture me, my dear."
Aethelle leaned in closely to his face, her lips barely brushing his, before turning to whisper in his ear.
"No more than you torture me."

"What is it?" Aethelle looked concerningly at her friend.

"I'm... I'm not sure she'll take kindly to me," Shadowheart's eyes moved towards the ground. "I'm not a high elf like yourself."

Aethelle felt her gut wrench. Her friend was not wrong, after all. Shadowheart was a half-elf, and most halflings faced much criticism, let alone in the Upper City. Throughout their adventures so far, the companions had witnessed much prejudice against tieflings, gnomes, and githyanki alike. This was no different.

"Well, I suppose if she doesn't, we'll just have to burn the building down. A twinned spell Fireball would take care of this place quickly, don't you think?" Shadowheart let out a laugh, and Aethelle grinned, pleased with herself for changing her dear friend's mood.

"You are a frightening sorceress indeed," the cleric said as she caught her breath.

"I mean it, Shadowheart. I won't let them insult you. I promise," the sorceress reached for the cleric's hand and squeezed.

"A frightening sorceress," smiled Shadowheart, "and a great friend indeed."

The two opened the front door, the bell ringing out as they entered the quaint modiste. Aside from the dresses and silks, the store was noticeably empty of customers. Shadowheart and Aethelle looked at each other before walking further inside. Not even the modiste was in sight.

"Hello?" called out Aethelle.

"Ah, finally!" A dwarf with bright red curls emerged from the back. Her cotton dress was held by a silken blue bodice that matched her pale blue eyes. Freckles decorated every corner of her face and arms. Aethelle felt her friend ease considerably. "Nice to meet you, my ladies." The dwarf offered a curtsy. "My name is Gigi. How can I help you?"

"A pretty name indeed," commented Aethelle. "I am Lady Aethelle Veluthezara, and this is Lady Jenevelle Hallowleaf, visiting from Waterdeep. We are here to commission your work for the Viscount Zantharen's grand ball tomorrow. One of the Faennawedd ladies recommended you most admirably."

The dwarf looked at her with wide blue eyes and her jaw dropped. "You... you want me to dress you for the ball?"

"Indeed I do. Have you not outfitted for a ball yet, miss Gigi? I understand your business is quite new."

"No, I have not," Gigi said, her eyes still wide, as she rushed to the desk to collect her tape measure. "Let alone the Viscount's! This will be a great opportunity for me indeed!" The dwarf squealed excitedly before composing herself. "My apologies, allow me to collect myself."

Aethelle laughed heartily. "Do not concern yourself, if you are that excited to craft something, then I trust your gowns will be resplendent indeed."

The dwarf's eyes widened again. "You're a rare breed of noble, ma'am. I see why Miss Orchid keeps you in high regard."

"Ah, so it was Orchid Faennawedd you saw? She has quite posh taste indeed. You should be proud to have attracted her attention, then." The dwarf's face reddened against her freckles to Aethelle's praise. "It will be no time at all until she sends the rest of the Faennawedd women to you, and then you will surely have your hands full!"

Gigi let out a sincere laugh. "Well, if I am to design two dresses for the Viscount's ball, the Faennawedd ladies may have to wait in line once the town arrives at my doorstep!" The dwarf put her hands on her hips, eyeing the two spellcasters up and down. "Now, what is it we're wanting?"

"I trust your expertise," replied Aethelle. "I could use something fresh. What about you, Lady Hallowleaf? Any silks catch your eye?"

Shadowheart's eyes grew wide at the rows and rows of fabrics in the store. "Is it poor of me to say I have absolutely no idea?" Gigi let out a laugh as she gestured the two women to the back of the store, beginning to take their measurements.

"Ma'am, I'd rather you have no idea than too many. You'd be aghast at the number of alterations I had to make for Lady Winterbloom." The three women's laughter filled the store as they chatted amongst the silks.

The three men stood in the tailor’s workshop, keeping perfectly still as they were measured and pinned. Ryn let out a sigh.

"I do hate the tailor," said Ryn, quite exasperated despite the men only just arriving. The tailor scowled at the paladin.

"I believe what my friend here is trying to say is that he cares not for fashion," piped up Gale, hoping to avoid being poked by an angry seamster.

"I truly do not understand why. Do you not like presenting yourself in a little more fashionable manner than just chainmail all the time?" remarked Astarion.

"A pity, then. No wonder you’ve yet to wed," retorted the rogue. The tailor attending to Ryndel chuckled quietly.

"I can assure you, I have not wedded because I simply do not care for any of the socialites," the paladin huffed. "I want someone who could split my skull in two, and I can also assure you, most could not."

"I'm surprised you never asked for Aethelle's hand," commented Gale bluntly.

"What?" the paladin and the rogue said in unison.

"Is she not your type? She certainly could split your skull in two," replied Gale nonchalantly. The seamster working on the wizard's attire paused for a moment to laugh quietly into his basket of purple fabric.

"No, Gale, I never felt romantically towards the person I revere as a sister," hissed Ryn. "Gods, never put that gross image in my head ever again."

"Very well. I'm also surprised you didn't make more of an attempt with our dear cleric," continued the wizard, who was now clearly having fun prodding the paladin.

Ryn sighed. "She is beautiful, yes, but I know better than to continue advances when they've been so harshly rebuked." The paladin looked at the ground, head in his hands. "Do not tell me you've have more luck with relationships than me, wizard."

Astarion laughed. "I don't believe he has."

"A story for another day, perhaps," said Gale as he cleared his throat, turning to Astarion. "Now, I'm more interested in how you did end up finally getting the sorceress not to reject you," the wizard remarked.

"Ugh, does everyone know about that?" the vampire sighed, his hands on his hips.

"She rejected you at first? Ha! Of course Aethelle did." The paladin laughed as the tailor struggled to keep his pins in place. "Now this, I want to hear."

"There's nothing to tell. And as you know, it worked out in the end, anyways," the rogue crossed his arms.

Ryn's eyes narrowed as he looked over to Astarion. "You know, I could also say the same about you, regarding marriage. You and Aethelle seem quite close, why have you yet to ask for her hand?" Astarion choked on the air, much to Gale's chagrin.

"Gee, I wonder whatever it could be!" sassed Astarion, gesturing to his tadpoled head.

"Even more reason to ask. Who knows? We could face a fiery death tomorrow and she would never know your true intent." The paladin looked to the wizard, who surprisingly nodded in agreement.

"We... have discussed it," muttered Astarion timidly.

Gale and Ryn's heads whipped around.

"You have?" inquired Gale in disbelief.

"What, do you truly think I hadn’t thought of it at all?" the rogue hissed.

"Well, my friend, I know you do not need my opinion, but I think you are a great match for her indeed," said Ryn. "I have never seen my oldest friend so taken with anyone."

Astarion exhaled. "Really?"

"Really. But if you hurt her, I will ensure you never see daylight again."

"Understandable," replied the rogue.

"Well this I must know. Do you have a ring yet, Astarion?" asked Gale, his interest thoroughly piqued.

"Again, I believe our current circumstances have delayed much in my endeavors!" rebuked Astarion.

"Surely you have found many jewels on your adventures," added Ryn. "Or at least met someone keen with a hammer."

"That's it!" Gale, who had been the most thoughtful of the tailors around him, suddenly jumped up. The seamster rolled his eyes as he redid a pin on the wizard’s slacks. "You ought to ask Dammon to forge something. If he can prevent Karlach from spontaneous combustion, he can surely craft a ring."

"Ugh." Astarion put his head in his hands. "Gods forbid I ever tell you both anything about my love life ever again."

"Oh, I suppose we shall stop picking on you. Now Gale, it seems we will be standing here for some time more. Please do enlighten me of your love affairs," smiled Ryn slyly.

As Gale and Ryn conversed, Astarion's mind drifted elsewhere. The two men were right; if they all perished in the quest to defeat the Elder Brain, would he be able to live with himself if he never asked the sorceress for her hand? He closed his eyes and sighed. He never thought he would ever find someone to love as much as he did Aethelle. Yet here he was, enamored with her, in the midst of a grand adventure. And not for a moment, did he ever think that she would reciprocate that love, especially after all that had transpired between them previously.

The sorceress sat along the campsite cliff in the Underdark, her legs dangling over the abyss. She gazed up at the bioluminescent fungi trailing the rocky caverns. The darkness spilled on endlessly, only brightened by the varieties of mushrooms that grew exclusively to the underground grotto. It was unlike anything she had ever seen before.

The myconids, the mushroom-humanoid inhabitants of the Underdark, had graciously let them set up their camp nearby their settlement. Not only that, a few of them stood watch for the adventurers, too. Now, everyone could rest through the night, with the exception of the two elves who naturally did not rest as long as the others. She stared ahead at the caverns, thinking of the party's plans for the coming day.

"Here's my little treat with her cheeks all flushed." His voice was rich as took a seat next to her. "You will come to my bed tonight, won't you?" said the rogue, ever so smoothly.

The sorceress laughed, feeling the warmth in her cheeks. "Very presumptuous of you. I'm undecided what I'll do tonight yet." She returned his devious tone, her hazel eyes peering at him from underneath her eyelashes.

Astarion's heart ached with her gaze. He let himself go too far at the party, and afterwards he had spent a couple days scorning himself for indulging in the happiness of the sorceress's presence. After all, he could offer her nothing. He was still a slave to his master, and he was still a vampire. No, he needed to get it together, and to stick to his plan. If Aethelle didn't help free him from Cazador's grip, he would surely perish. Astarion had to ensure his survival first, not his trivial feelings. She was just another casualty in his conquest.

"Ah, you need a bit of enticing, let me see..." his voice trailed off as he thought to himself. Aethelle looked at him quizzically.

"When I'm with you, I feel practically alive, yet I crave only to die again with you," the vampire gestured dramatically.

The sorceress laughed. "So many honeyed words, as usual."

"Not half as sweet as when I tasted you."

Aethelle blushed, silently cursing her cheeks for giving her away.

"Hmm, let me give it another go: Every part of your perfect body whispers temptation," murmured Astarion as he outlined her with his hand in the air. "It's as if the Gods made you just to ruin me."

"You're sweet, and sillier than I thought," she chuckled.

"I can go all night with the flattery, but is that really all you want?" He paused, hungrily taking in every inch of her with his gaze. "How about if I said these little words... Everyone's favorite..."

He paused, feeling his throat tighten and his body tense. "I love you."

The sorceress looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Having fun, are you?"

Astarion laughed. "I am. It's hard not to, with you." Aethelle rolled her eyes and smiled.

"Now, as much as I relish standing around and saying all my favorite lines at you, I'd much rather we got to experience each others" full portfolio of talents once again." His voice dripped with a sickly sweetness.

The sorceress sighed. "Oh, all right," she grinned. "I'll come find you once I know everyone is asleep."

The vampire smiled, his fangs peeking out from below his lips. "I'll be waiting."

Aethelle stared hesitantly at Astarion's tent. Everyone in the camp was asleep, and she had finished her plans for the next day, ready to see the elf she realized she was falling for. She stood frozen, her legs unwilling to move. She had no idea what she was doing. She had heard legends of vampires that Ryn had told her when they were kids, and none of them had happy endings. But Astarion was free now, at least, freer than before. When the tadpole was gone, what then? The sorceress had a inkling their travels would eventually result in the slaying of Cazador, but it was too soon to tell.

She sighed. She knew Astarion's words weren't truthful. She knew she would never find someone who truly loved her again. Then why did it feel so real when they spent the night at the party together? She hadn't felt her heart flutter like that in a long time. Maybe it was just because years had passed, and she liked the attention. Yes, that had to be it. She so desperately wanted to believe Astarion wanted her for who she was. But deep down, she felt like her feelings were all just a game to him.

She laughed at herself, thinking on Ryn. He would have told her to run for the hills after meeting Astarion for the first time. So why wasn't she? She felt ashamed at herself for being naïve, for playing right into the rogue's games. But there was a tiny voice in the back of head telling her that there was something real to him, something more than just fairytales with bad endings. She felt her brow furrow and a shudder run down her body. Maybe she could just live in this fantasy for a little while, the fantasy where he did truly care for her. Whenever he eventually left her, it wouldn't hurt as bad, because she'd have been prepared for the inevitable the whole time.

She walked over to the tent. He must have heard her footsteps, emerging from the draped canvas to meet her.

"I hoped you would come. I have missed you. And now you're all mine, and I'm all yours," the vampire drawled. "Until morning, at least. Let's see where the night takes us."

She smiled faintly at him, taking the hand he offered to her, and crawled into the tent to lay besides him. Her mind screamed at herself for being so gullible and so stupid. While her subconscious raged, a fleeting memory suddenly danced across her mind.

There she was, bloody and bruised on the marble floor of her home. Aethelle was looking at the elf in front of her, his tousled black hair and grey eyes. Tears streamed down his face as he looked at her. She remembered feeling so tired, like she could finally know what sleep felt like. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of ginger hair, a silver sword emerging from a hilt. Then it was nothing but black.

"Aethelle?" the rogue's voice ripped her from the thought. There was concern in his pale face, his crimson eyes wide. They two elves lay beneath the blanket, but for some reason, the sorceress felt so, so cold.

"Yes? Sorry," she laughed nervously. "I was just lost in thought." Her voice subtly splintered.

Astarion looked at her worriedly. "Is there something wrong?"

"No! Not at all," she said as she smiled weakly. "Just a tad cold." She frantically blinked and averted her gaze, trying to wall off any tears from breaking through her eyelashes. "Will you hold me, for a bit?"

"O-of course," Astarion replied gently. He pulled her into her arms and she buried her head in his shirt, hoping he wouldn't notice. She breathed slowly, trying to contain herself.

"You can leave, if you want," he whispered softly.

"I could never leave you."

The sorceress and the rogue both caught their breath at her words. Aethelle didn't mean to so outwardly unravel in front of him, but she was. She pulled back for a moment to meet his gaze, their eyes both wide with surprise.

She kissed him fervently, bringing a hand to cup his face. His hand found a spot in her hair, pushing their lips closer. Each time one of them pulled back to catch their breath, the other reeled them back in. They kissed wildly, their bodies crashing together in an attempt to hold each other even tighter.

Aethelle couldn't take it anymore. She wanted him, all of him, body and soul. She flipped themselves over, rolling on top of him. He looked up at her, surprised at her impulse. She met his lips again as she fiddled with the buttons of his pants, before slipping her way down to his girth.

The sorceress gently took his shaft in her hand, lapping at his length while pushing her hand delicately back and forth. She heard his quiet groans of approval, and took his head into her mouth, swirling her tongue. As she quickened the pace of her hand, she pressed her tongue more firmly against his head. It did not take long before she tasted the warmth drip from him. She released him from her mouth, causing him to growl at the sudden removal. Taking her free hand, she took the head of his cock and squeezed gently. As he dripped even more, she took the pad of her thumb and swirled it in circles around his tip.

The rogue began to lean up to return the gesture, but she quickly pushed him back down with her hand. He looked at her in bewilderment as she held his gaze through half-lidded eyes, moving back down to his length and bringing him into her mouth once again. She moved further and further down his shaft, her hand moving along with her, filling the places where she couldn't quite reach.

Astarion was becoming more and more vocal as she worked him. Worried about the proximity of their tent to their companions, Aethelle lifted her head up off his girth, causing him to gasp.

"My dear," she whispered sultrily as she unbuttoned her pants. "Any louder and we may get complaints." She quickly removed the rest of her garments, tossing them aside before meeting his lips with hers once more. She felt Astarion kick off the rest of his pants, and as he leaned up, she pulled his shirt up over his head.

She sat her wet sheath on his abdomen, teasing the vampire by sitting just above his cock. She reached behind herself and held his shaft once more, moving her hand gently up and down. As she worked his length, she bucked delicately against his skin, her mess dripping down his side.

"Oh gods," hissed Astarion, gripping her thighs. "You torture me, my dear."

Aethelle leaned in closely to his face, her lips barely brushing his, before turning to whisper in his ear.

"No more than you torture me."