Late Halloween Fic Snippet - 'Crimson Petals Among the Autumn Leaves'

Notes:

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PART 1 of ?

PROLOGUE - 'There Can only be One Slasher in the Woods'

The large woods of Atrocitas is empty, except for the occasional rustle of a gentle breeze dislodging the Autumnal leaves of orange, yellow and red above in the canopy where they tumble down onto the undisturbed forest floor way below them.

Then a noise - someone running hard through the forest, scattering leaves in all directions and panting hard with his chest rising and falling under the long bloodied white butcher's smok, brown belts around waist and one arm with a specialised hood covering their face.

Behind Konig, someone else wearing a white skull-face mask chases after him until finally manages to bowl him over to slam down on the ground where he soon feels his specialised hood covering his face ripped off by a gloved hand and the figure above him wearing the skull-face like mask with straps on it looks down at him saying.

"There you are…..Butcher…"

That all Konig can get out in reply is

"Scheissdreck…"

when their other black gloved hand tightens around his throat in a tight squeeze, cutting of his air supply.

It seems Konig had just met the other Slasher who hunted in the large woods of Atrocitas - the one known only as Ghost.

One it seemed who preferred 'There can only one Slasher in the Woods' and not two.

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Notes

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Location – River Chionthar, the Ravaged Beach - Destroyed Nautiloid - Mid-Morning

Astarion's P.O.V:

Reassured by the Archdruid called Halsin, after he gives me a healing potion to speed up my Healing Factor – noting internally the potion has a faint aftertaste of honey and oak – I watch from the grassy verge where he’d told me to remain in such studious way, I gone to interject but a firm, stern glare and one hand being held up in front of my face effectively shut me up.

Damm, Archdruid, who does he think he is?

Though a benefit is the healing potion has acted more quickly than my healing factor.

Settling myself down on the grassy ledge above where the destroyed Nautiloid lays down below, I reach one hand into the travelling pack for the flask of wine and a cup to pour myself a glass – even though it may taste like ash to my tastebuds.

Another crackle of magic in the air nearly sets my hair standing on end, a large roaring sound of what sounds like a bear and finally, the sight of my ‘siblings’ escaping the ravaged beach area with their metaphorical tails tucked between their legs.

Bringing the cup of wine to my lips, I take a sip finding it’s not wine, but in fact it is blood mixed with a pinch of Nutmeg.

 How strange? Whoever left this traveling pack behind certainly knows about Vampires. Blood mixed with pinch of Nutmeg, could get addicted to this.

Relaxing on the grassy ledge, I see below from my vantage point the Archdruid Halsin is beginning to talk with the Barbarian female Tiefling, a Cleric – summarising from the way the half-elf acts around others – and the Wizard wearing robes of lilac seems to radiate strange, dangerous mystical energy around him.

Up on a long ridge on the other side, a sight of two figures coming down the hillside of it to the destroyed Nautiloid draws my attention away from the group below me.

The reason being one of them is dragging one of my ‘siblings’ Leon by his hair, with Dalyria trying to placate with a tall black man to let her ‘Brother’ free before he burns to crisp seeing already flakes of Leon’s skin are peeling off.

Typical, it had to be these two to be the ones left behind. Well, Astarion, you better head down and introduce yourself then.

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Location - Emerald Grove, Western Heartlands, West Faerun – After Mid-Morning

Asdalen’s P.O.V:

“Brother, are you alright? I was so worried when….”

“Listen, Archdruid Halsin, I apologize but…...I…Why are you calling me ‘Brother’?”

 The Archdruid Halsin begins to ask me, only to step back when I ask that question looking at me with his face going white as a sheet, a trembling hand coming up glowing with golden energy before exploding in a bunch of dead leaves and eyes starting to glisten with tears.

“I…Oakfather, why has this happened?......” He begins to say, only to mutter the rest of his sentence under his breath and beginning to pace back and forth until stops to look at me in such a way it makes my chest ache at the sight of it.

Is the reason he called me ‘Brother’ is because I remind him of someone else? Why does it feel right though when it calls me that. Are we related in some way?

Finding I don’t know what to say to him, I head over to where a Blacksmith is talking to Karlach – a female Barbarian Tiefling – about her Infernal Engine seeing the male sand-coloured Tiefling is thinking about something, his clawed hand stroking his chin in deep thought.

“I have an idea. It might work with some Infernal Iron.” The blacksmith tells her, reminding me of a piece of metal I’d picked up when exploring around the destroyed Nautiloid that reach into the traveling pack to get it out.

“Here. Will this do, Blacksmith?” I ask, holding it out to the sand coloured Tiefling who immediately takes it off my hands inspecting the piece of metal feeling Karlach, giving me a quick hug so she doesn’t burn me.

“Yes!!!? Thank you, I can work with this….Hang on…” the Blacksmith replies, turning to his anvil where placing on the metal on top reaches for the hammer heating up in the coal-fire to begin hammering it.

Sparks occasionally fly, a metallic ring echoing every-time he brings the hammer down to shape it – his muscles bulging with the effort, sweat forming and fierce concentration showing on his face – until stepping back to admire his handiwork.

Lesia, who’s been playing in the centre of the grove comes walking over to stand beside me along with someone else joining us: a Tiefling with light green-blue eyes, short-cut blue and black dyed hair and a silver looped-shaped earring and curved horns.

“Dammon, brother.” She says, making him turn his face followed by embracing the female Tiefling in his arms with “LITTLE SISTER!!?” reassuring Karlach, who’s expression had been briefly one of jealousy at the sight of the new Tiefling gives out a gentle sigh of relief at the fact the young Tiefling is Dammon’s sister.

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Location - Emerald Grove, Western Heartlands, West Faerun – Still Mid-Morning

Astarion’s P.O.V:

“I…...Archdruid, sorry to ask you of this….is there somewhere I can lay down?”

“Is your head hurting?”

Lifting my head up, I look at the Archdruid Halsin who turns slightly to face me at the top of the flight of stone-carved steps leading into the hidden areas of the Emerald Grove – the sleeping areas where most of the Druids would stay in during the heavy winter months that would hit West Faerun  - to look at me.

“Not really. It’s…just so can mull over what has transpired, darling.” I reply, a flirtatious tone forming in my voice and stepping myself closer to Halsin, who gives me a look he’s not amused by it.

Those beautiful, bold brown eyes ringed with gold showing a hint of displeasure, that it feels oddly fun to rile the Archdruid up this way.

“I think a rest would better suit you instead of flirting this way, Astarion Ancunin.” Halsin states to me, descending the stone-carved stone steps with no backward glance. His mistake, so descend the stone-carved steps to confront him.

How does this Archdruid know my full name!!!? I never told him!!! So how…!!!??

Slipping the dagger into my hand from my sleeve, nearly reaching him it’s the sudden sense of something that draws my attention away from him.

Curious, I stop in my pursuit of Archdruid Halsin to walk over to the area finding more stone-carved steps leading down to what must be another secret area.

Something about it though feels familiar – like I’ve been to the area at some point in my life, but I know I haven’t – placing a hand on the curved wall wondering should I descend into the bowels of Emerald Grove to figure out what is calling out to me.

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2 DAYS LATER

Location – Shattered Sanctum, Ruined Temple – Western Heartlands – Early Afternoon

Asdalen’s P.O.V:

“Place him with the bear. Maybe he will make a good meal for it.”

“You heard Lady Minthara…Take him to the cage..”

Harsh, grating multitude of voices reach through unconscious haze, forcing me into a sharp awareness I’ve been captured and brought to somewhere with a screeching noise of cell door being opened indicating I’m about to be imprisoned.

Fluttering my eyes open, blurry vision of something brown, large and furry in the far corner of the cell comes into my line of sight with suddenly the large goblin who been dragging me flings me in with one single throw not even caring when I land on the harsh, uneven surface of the stone floor with a sickening thud – the injuries I had ascertained from somewhere soon making themselves known.

A clattering of my mask landing beside makes me scramble to grab hold of it, praying that Lesia is around somewhere and she is safe from harm – she would start to become extremely agitated if separated from me and could easily harm people around her – quickly slipping it back on.

“Oh, so you’re a Drow with a bit of history are we….” The Hobgoblin sneers out, forcing my eyes to widen heavily lifting my head straight up to see in cracked ornate mirror at the back of the cell my face is being shown in various angles – but enough to make out the details on it. “…Asdalen Wryric, the Snake of Faerun.”

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Location – Shattered Sanctum, Ruined Temple – Western Heartlands – Early Afternoon

Astarion’s P.O.V:

“Out the way.”

“But….Lady Minthara, we’s were only playing with him…”

“Enough….Out of my sight and go find Ragzlin, you brats.”

A voice, female speaks pushing the goblin brats who’ve surrounded me out the way, a ashen-grey hand reaching to haul me up by hair off up from the hard, stone cold floor of the ruined Temple  – my mind trying not think of memories of being trapped in the ‘kennel’ where Godey, would watch and wait for ample time to strike –  that try not show a wince on my features.

Vision clearing, it reveals the person holding my head by my hair is a female drow with braided white hair, distinct ashen-grey mixed with gold highlights and a harsh, cold face with her other hand grabbing hold of my chin tightly.

She turns it to side to side to analyse the details of it, until forcing it back to look at her.

“Hmm….How did you get here, elf?” She asks me, making me go to give back a sarcastic retort to her question when a sharp, blinding pain shoots through my head and memories not my own filter through my mind – I realise, suddenly, they are her memories.

She releases my hair, wrenching away like I’ve burned her – maybe in a way I have with whatever that telepathic connection wave had been made. She glares down at me, while another figure appears, a large red Hobgoblin, to stand beside her.

“You called for me, Minthara. What bothers you?” the Hobgoblin states, large red arms crossing over their large, muscular chest – a beady eye flicking over my rugged appearance - with me, wondering if should try to create a diversion to escape.

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List of One's Baldur's Gate 3 Fics:

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PART 1 - The Journey Begins' (Spawn Astarion Route)

Location – River Chionthar, the Ravaged Beach - Destroyed Nautiloid -  approaching Early Morning

Astarion’s P.O.V :

"Astarion.....Look out.....!!!!?...."

An echo of a voice. 

Was someone calling out to me? 

My......body.....hurts.....head is....splitting apart....

Holding my head in both of my hands, a fleeting memory of sitting in the back of a tavern watching someone walking away from the table I’m sitting at with beside me another person looking torn in between wanting to go after them and staying with me coming to the forefront of my mind.

Who was that?

I don’t recognise them. I….there faces are too blurred to recognise.

Had I been hunting? What was I doing in that Tavern?

Concentrating on the fleeting memory makes a strange, painful wave pulsate through my head causing all of it to fracture into complete, metaphorical shards.

This makes it extremely difficult in grasping hold of these shards to make sense of the memory and piece it back together until I'm left there with nothing - just empty blackness. 

Lowering my hands down to rest on my lap, I survey my surroundings noticing around me there  is scattered about remains of one thoroughly destroyed Mindflyer's Nautiloid.  

Among the Nautiloid wreckage area I'm in dotted here and there are glowing fires flickering among the wreckage and lying right beside me, an oval-shaped pod - the interior no longer intact, the glass panel shattered by some type of impact it ascertained with the other remaining half lying a few feet away. 

A radiating pain makes itself known from my starting-to-heal injuries I’ve ascertained at some point.

Though, thankfully nothing majorly serious wound-wise for me to be too concerned about even if admit to myself pales in comparison in what Master Cazador had carved permanently onto my back with what he called his ‘needle’ during my first years of Spawn-hood.

Spawn-hood referring to when a Vampire Spawn had just been ‘born’ more like created I would say would go through before becoming fully-fledged Vampire Spawn who knew how to stalk, hunt, seduce and kill their Prey they hunted down.

In my case it was I would bring back any Prey that I stalked, hunted and seduced back to Master Cazador’s residence where he would change them into Vampire Spawn or just feast on them right there and then without any care about whether family or loved ones would miss them.

Realising suddenly, interrupting the memory of what I had done in the past, I need to get out of the sun before burn up to a fine, wispy crisp I haul myself up gritting my teeth when my still-healing injuries protest themselves at me for beginning to move.

Almost stumbling backwards and forwards with a dizziness of standing up too fast hitting me in the process.

Or could it be the new host within my head?

It's insistent burrowing wriggling evident but still feel like it's waiting for the right chance to take over - trying to weaken me one-step-at-a-time. 

Beginning to make my way through the wreckage are, I stop by bodies of victims Mindflyer's had captured from Baldur's Gate and the surrounding areas to see whether hidden on their person they have anything of value which wouldn't be missed and I could easily sell off to a traveling merchant or trade for something mundune if they had no coin. 

After finding a decent pair of boots, a fresh, white tunic and leather brown breeches in a buried wooden chest, I slip off what have been wearing - a threadbare white tunic and breeches needing patched-up in some places - to change into the clothing I've just found.

"Strange, how this clothing perfectly fits me." I mutter, stepping out from the tent which used to change in only to realise I'm standing full, bright sunlight with not even my flesh beginning to burn - no wisps of steam rising up, flakes peeling of my body and sensation of needing to get to the shadwos - just warmth.

Warmth, I have not felt in years I've been a Vampire Spawn and yet, here I'm standing within sunlight for the very first time and not burning up - probably because of the 'parasite' in my head, who squirms a wee bit in indigination at being called it, giving me the ability to survive in sunlight. 

Why though?

What's the purpose of all of this?

Inflict me.......damm....parasite...

More squirming from it in particular, chooses to interrupt my unanswered internal questions, indicating I'm being barred from even learning about why it been placed within my head and for what purpose.

"Are you sure you saw someone else, soldier." 

"I....it might have been....but with all the thick smog from the fires it's difficult to tell."

"Trust your instincts, wizard. You definately saw someone or something. Pray it not be one of those foul creatures, y'know.

"Please do not remind me. It's worse I'm…..”

The sound of voices speaking relatively close, makes me quickly pack up the set-up abandoned tent, plus other materials lying scattered about around it into a faded leather travel satchel before making my way over to another spot to give myself an advantage on ambushing whoever they are.  

After hiding my newfound travel satchel, I've taken from the destroyed camp, in a hollow of a tree, I compose myself - like an actor getting ready to go out onto stage - making sure a dagger is on hand just in case who's approaching where I'm now located turn out to hostile.

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 Location – River Chionthar, the Ravaged Beach - Destroyed Nautiloid -  Early Morning

Asdalen's P.O.V:

"Mama.....Mama?!! MAMA!!!?"

"Easy, child, they will be alright." 

"Wyll, this....we should get them back to the Grove."

"Are you sure, Dammon?"

"Positive."

Fluttering my eyes open at the sound of voices, at first see a blurred vision of someone leaning over before it finally clears revealing to Tiefling standing with Lesia beside him that scramble upwards to hug her little fae-body close to me – hearing her wailing into my chest – reassuring her I’m here for her and everything is going be alright.

“Umm, is this your mask?” the Tiefling asks, holding out the fine carved mask it forces me to quickly snatch it off them to slip it back on – whether they had seen what my face actually looked like, I prayed they hadn’t seen it – finding my heart-rate which had sped up return to a normal beat.

“Yes. Thank you.” I reply, getting up only for sudden, intense pulsating wave to hit me – something within my head begins to wriggle uncontrollably like it had sensed something – noticing the other person, who carries a blade on their person is gripping their head with one hand.

“Dammit, have you got a tadpole as well…haven’t you!!!?” they state, unsheathing their sword to point the sharp point at me finding myself wanting to hiss and bare my fangs at them – the other, unknown half of me threatening should slit their throat, rip out their spine and spread their entrails everywhere – but a sudden sound of fighting from somewhere close-by reaches us.

Getting up, I hand Lesia over to the Tiefling who takes her into the Grove leaving me and Dammon’s companion to head off to source of the fighting.

Whoever is fighting it sounded like they really needed more help from the number of magical explosions causing the air to tingle with the equivalent of electricity forming during a lightning storm.

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 Location – River Chionthar, the Ravaged Beach - Destroyed Nautiloid - Approaching Mid-Morning

Astarion’s P.O.V:

“Brother, please return us with us.”

“NEVER….I WILL NOT RETURN TO THAT CAGE!!!?”

“Please, Brother, let us help you….”

Hissing with my fangs bared at my ‘siblings’ trying to crowd themselves around me - even though there for them only some shadows due to it approaching mid-morning - so can capture me.

The fact they had discovered me so fast, just makes things even worse. I finally had a freedom, I hadn't experienced in a long time - the feel of sunlight on my skin, no shackles to chain me down to cold stone-floor and hear any of Godey's nagging voice to annoy me.

A snarl draws me out of my memories, giving a muffled 'ommph' when the bolder of my 'siblings' chooses to lunge at me - risking burning himself in the process - knocking me over into the shaded area of the large destroyed Nautiloid where desperation sinking in to escape from them begin to claw, scratch and struggle like a cornered animal does when trying to get free from the Predator or Predators.

Crimson petals splatter across the sand, coating it in so much it's difficult to tell who it's coming from with my other 'siblings' coming over to help the one trying to subdue me. I would not let this happen to me, never would I go back to place where 'he' waited for me and would force me back into gilded cage to effectively trap me so never escaped again.

"GALE, OVER THERE!!!?"

A voice shouts, startling my 'siblings' who raise their heads to look at the source of the intrusion giving me ample opportunity to get away, scrambling upwards to the other side of the destroyed Nautiloid to back into the light, where stumble weakly to collapse against a cliff-face hearing fighting beginning to happen.

Battle-cry from the female Tiefling indicating she was of the Barbarian; a sizzling sulfuric smell of magic coming from the Wizard and finally, the third companion a female half-elf using her own arsenal to protect them.

My mind feels torn between choices of helping them or making a dash for it, escape to higher ground or just get out of the area.

Using the cliff-face for leverage I push myself up but must have stood up too fast because my vision sparkles in front of me - Idiot, Astarion, you should have stood up slowly and not rushed it!! - and sway dizzyingly to one side, falling straight into a warm, muscular chest with hands grabbing hold of my arms to stop me from falling. 

What they say forces me to look up straight into kind, gentle hazel brown ringed with gold eyes and face that oddly looks familiar - but from where I cannot remember - closely followed by wondering how do they know my name and why are tears running down my face at the sight of....this stranger. 

"Easy, dear heart. You have ascertain......I've got you....I've got you......Astarion!!?"

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Torchwood Fanfic: 'The First Tale of the Immortal Storyteller'

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Summary:

Hidden away in a small, undisturbed village located in a valley, a person called Javin Boeshane - a simple, book-keeper and writer, plus Historical Document Collecter - doesn't expect when they went to work that their peaceful, calm life would be shattered by the arrival of.....

....Torchwood and the person called Captain Jack Harkness.

So, begins a series of events all leading to a deep, dark secret which has been buried for some time and waiting to be told.

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Notes:

- An idea that came to mind after watching the last episode of Season 4 of Torchwood, where the learn about the thing called 'The Blessing' - Slight episode diverging, but will be including episode moments etc - Title refers to how Javin records information in Tales which can be spread to generation to generation or be for ones he closely considers family or friends. - In this Cristopf is the Ninth Doctor from parallel universe, where will explain more in further chapters as fic progresses.

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Prologue - 'The Immortal Storyteller'

Location - Scotland, Scottish Highlands - Hidden Alien Refuge Village, Hidden Valley - The Boeshane Cottage - Early Morning

Javin Boeshane's P.O.V:

The steady chime coming from the large Grandfather clock located downstairs in the hallway, brings me out of trying to finish the manuscript for my next book on the typewriter leaning back in my wooden chair to look out the study window at the white, wispy clouds rolling their way across the skyline.

In the place where I live, built for an important purpose is an alien refuge village for various species of aliens who over millennium have chosen to land or crash-land on planet Earth seeking somewhere to survive - away from what has happened to them in their solar systems. 

Precise location of The Boeshane Cottage  - my home - situated above the hidden valley helps in protecting the place from being discovered by UNIT or any other mysterious, hidden organisations who might came to investigate the strange, anomaly they might detect with their equipment or they learn about it from a Witness - referring to ordinary, human beings who accidentally stumbled upon the area, most of them minority being:

Hikers, who'd gotten lost exploring the Highlands; Tourists or Archealogists curious in rumours about a hidden village and finally, UFO Hunters who assisted aliens existed and had spotted some in the Highlands.

Dragging both of my hands down my face, I decide to put the manuscript I've been typing up on hold for now. There is no point in procrastinating over it, when my mind is distracted by something else - probably to do with said 'guest', if he could be called that, staying in the second bedroom of the cottage. 

Pushing my chair back from the study desk, the half-typed manuscript placed in the typewriter waiting to be finished and the blank paper placed to one side, I head out my study to step out onto the top floor landing. 

"Writer's block with the manuscript?" A voice interrupts me, making me turn slightly to face to the source of the voice asking me the question

Seeing my 'guest, Captain John Hart, stepping out of the other bedroom wearing his fashionable crimson miltary, styled jacket - which is not from the 21st Century and more suited to his style - along with his weapons and other stuff. 

Seeing I'm eying the open bedroom door, he closes it behind him - even though I've caught a brief glimpse of the ruffled bedsheets on the bed, clothes scattered about on the bedroom floor and the scent of strong, sex pheromones lingering in the air. 

"You could say that." I reply to his question.

Internally noting 'From his appearance - the well-coiffed hair, a faint scent of shampoo coating his body covered up by a cologne and a slight limp in his step - this indicates last night he had a good time with the person he brought back' until realise he's right beside me, waiting for me to either move or head down the stairs.

Not wanting to hang around on the landing, I turn myself around to descend the stairs with him following close behind me.

Neither of us say much, though no doubt he's itching to ask questions or wants to tell me some important information. 

Reaching the first-floor hallway leading to the front door on my right and kitchen area towards the back, it's a sudden thunk - Dammit, I thought Cristopf had fixed that dodgy step - forcing me to turn slightly to catch him. 

Though I've underestimated the momentum of his combined weight and mine, along with how I've got a foot placed on the second last step to lean myself up to catch him. 

Causing for both of us to fall straight down onto the hallway wooden polished floor to land with a heavy, muffled combined thud. 

"Javin? Hart? Is everything alright? You're not hurt are you?"

Cristopf, I hear calling out to the both of us lying on the wooden, polished hallway floor from the kitchen area, with a muffled, pained groan of "Fuck, why didn't you say about the step. Goddess, this is embarassing that trip up on it again" coming from John. 

Shifting his body to lift himself up off me so I can either get up myself on my own or he can help me get up off the floor. 

Or would have, it hadn't been for him stiffening in a way he's discovered something, his head lifting up to look down at me - in particular where his face had been buried when he fell into my arms - with unexpected, shocked surprise. 

"Everything's fine, Cristopf. John, just tripped on the dodgy step, again." I reply back to him, realising the other man above me is looking downwards at my heaving chest. 

Realising the special binder, holding my breasts flat against my chest to give the illusion I'm male, must have slightly, loosened to reveal the mounds showing underneath my black shirt 

Exposing a secret about myself - the fact, I was 51st Century human who been born male, but had a female body instead and is hiding the fact from people. 

"Does he know?"  John queries, flicking his eyes up to Cristopf, standing by the kitchen doorway followed by back down to me. 

Cristopf must have sensed both of us need some breathing space, so heads back into the kitchen to finish off cooking the breakfast he'd been making, leaving me and John alone. 

My mind debates on what to say him, opening my mouth to speak only to find I really know what to say to him - What can I say? Tell him the truth? Both of us know I can't trust him - with him giving 'Hmm...' getting up off me, holding out his hand bearing the Vortex Manipulator to me.

Taking hold of his right hand, I allow him to haul myself up the wooden, polished hallway floor onto both of my feet leaving me to compose myself. 

"You realise both of you can't hide for long. Soon this very, sweet peaceful life you've built may become shattered, Javin Boeshane."

John states, the back of his knuckle stroking my right cheekbone lightly to soothe me when visibly flinch at his tone of his voice - it's callous of him.

He's right.....He's right. 

Both of us know it. 

It will happen, this sweet, peaceful life I built with Cristopf will be shattered at some point...

But when? 

Now?

A few weeks time?

In the future?

 When.....will...it happen?

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Notes:

- Set before Season 1, Episode 2 Day One which will be worked into next chapter. - This chapter deals with more introducing Javin to Captain Jack and the Torchwood Team

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PART 1 - 'An Ordinary Morning becomes Something Else'

Location - Scotland, Scottish Highlands - Hidden Alien Refuge Village, Hidden Valley - The Boeshane Cottage's Driveway- still Early Morning

"Did John say something to affect you, Javin?"

Cristopf asks, noticing how subdued I'm in not answering his question at first and refusing to look at him because I don't want to admit the truth.

"Just something which irritated me. Nothing to be worried about." I reply to him, unlocking the driver's side to enter the vehicle which use to get to work. Cristopf, wearing his faded jeans, leather jacket and simple, plain green t-shirt underneath steps close to me to place a hand on my waist and other tilt my chin upwards to look at him.

Looking at his gentle, sweet face and those eyes that have seen so many things – Universes forming and dying; life on planets never heard of and so many things that an ordinary human could only imagine – I find myself being pulled into a soothing, reassuring kiss.

Oh, how this reminds me so much of our first kiss we shared.

 I’ve missed this…. Missed his kisses and touch.

For a short time, I become lost in our kissing – lips softly moving against each-other’s and his hands moving to hold me closer to him like he’s afraid to let go of me in case I disappear from him. – until both of us pull back, one hand moving off my waist to stroke my cheekbone lightly with his thumb.

“I better…. umm….head off…” I state to him, breaking the tender moment between us, slipping into the driver’s seat and leaving him to close the driver’s door for me giving a look of ‘Will talk later about this.”

Stepping back to allow me to start the engine, where driving down the gravel driveway look at his reflection in the wingmirror getting smaller and smaller until turn to take the winding road out of the hidden valley to reach the M6.

Due to the trip to get Cardiff taking precisely 9hrs 39 minutes and distance is about 882km, I would have time to mull over stuff that been swirling it’s way around my head during my journey to the city.

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Location – Mermaid Quay, Cardiff Bay – The Boeshane Bookshop – Mid-Morning

Javin Boeshane’s P.O.V:

Hanging up my leather black great-coat on the wooden coat-hanger, I begin to open my Bookshop called The Boeshane Bookshop by going around checking the light sconces are working – it was old Historic building so the electricity wires still held hints of the past – and the small kitchen behind the counter is well-stocked and finally, stepping out onto the Mermaid Quay overlooking Cardiff Bay to pull the shutters covering the windows up.

Outside people are going about their daily lives: school children heading to school; mothers pushing prams or walking with their child or children; teenagers talking amongst themselves, listening to music or on their phone texting or scrolling through social media.

Un-padlocking the first shutters, I go to push one of them up or would have if it weren’t for someone knocking over me with such impact, I fall onto the pavement seeing a person wearing a blue RAF great over-coat chasing something with another person following close behind them.

“Fuck, bloody idiot. A bit of warning…. next time…” I swear out, trying to haul myself up using the flowerboxes on the window for stabilisation only to cry out when one of my leg’s gives out on me drawing the attention of people passing and two other people.

“I apologise. He’s a bit of a handful.” The medical-type person of the two people helping me up from the pavement to back into my bookshop over to red leather high-backed chair to sit down. A heavy wince forms on my features, bones which have shattered beginning to quickly heal due to my immortal healing factor is kicking in.

“Handful? More like menace. You do know there’s law about running about like that.” I grit out, seeing the woman I’ve overheard being called ‘Gwen’ heading into the kitchen-area behind the bookshop counter to get a glass of water.

“Well, uhhh…..he’s in a hurry…” the medical-type man states, his eyes studiously avoiding looking at me and hiding what he nearly about to say in case his colleague overhears him. “Now, can I see your leg. I need to make sure nothing is broken…What!?....I’m a medically trained professional.”

He begins to protest at me, while tries to check my leg, when I place my hand on his to push it off not wanting him to discover it’s already healed – though albeit still sore.

“It’s fine. I have a partner who can look over it.” I state at him, using the armrests of the red leather high-backed chair to haul myself up seeing how he gets up as well – it seems he only comes up to my chin – with a glare on that harsh, yet vulnerable face – Something happened to him. He shows on his face a haunted look of someone who’s experienced loss of a loved one. – and arms crossing over his chest.

Going to the kitchen-area, the bell above the shop-bell indicates someone else coming in a reflection in an ornate mirror embedded into the wall shows they are an older man wearing a RAF blue or grey greatcoat with a younger man wearing a suit beside them.

“Owen, is everything alright? We lost sight of the Wee….ummm, Pickpocket.” He asks the medical-professional, correcting his sentence when gets an elbow in the ribs by the young man in the suit making ‘Owen’ grumble something under his breath.

“Stubborn patient refusing help you mean.” Owen – He reminds me of her so much, right down to the mannerisms and look – replies, not really answering the question asked by his ‘Boss-man’ who comes up him with the ex-policewoman Gwen, appearing at the doorway of the kitchen-area going to interject with something.

Hmm, interesting team ‘Blue/grey greatcoat’ has brought together. One, stubborn and medically trained and hints may have done the danse macabre; the female Gwen an ex-policewoman by her stature and presence and other looking like he’s some kind of archivist.

Blue/grey greatcoat must have noted I’m taking in his team’s appearance, because he steps in front of the young man in the suit to block him from my line of sight. Pursing my lips, I brush past Gwen to go into the kitchen-area taking the glass of water off her to bring up to my lips to take a sip – one taste telling me what’s been placed in it.

“Next time you try and drug me, use a better memory replacement sedative.” I tell her, seeing how she looks at me with her widened, panicked eyes at my words with myself moving to go over to the sink where go to pour what’s in the glass down the kitchen sink to get rid of the contaminated water.

A hand grabbing hold of my wrist holding it tightly, makes me stiffen at it. I decide not to turn my face to look at the ‘Boss-man’ keeping myself looking at the calendar where important events are dated hearing him commanding one of his teammates.

“Gwen, lock the front door.” Blue/grey greatcoat orders, his hand moving to my trouser pocket for the key it makes me slap it away first, using my other hand to slap him across the face or would of if it hadn’t for his name being called out.

“JACK, LOOK OUT!!?”

My whole body goes completely numb, forcing me to wrench free from ‘Jack’ allowing the glass of water I’ve been holding still to fall onto the polished kitchen-area floor with a tinkling smash I only distantly hear.

It’s not possible!!!? He cannot be!!!? He can’t be…..Jaketh-Javic Piotr Thane, my sibling!!!?

Memories flood into my head, overwhelming me so much it’s like a dam which holds back tonnes of water breaking apart to allow torrent of water to cascade down into the valley below, swamping everything in it’s destructive path.

“Hey, we’re not going to kill you. Listen to me, we’re not going kill you.” A voice breaks through the haze of rushing water, forcing me to lift my head up to look straight at the very concerned face of my sibling, Jack/Jaketh-Javic’s face.

His team-mates who have come into the kitchen area are looking at me with various signs of concern written on their face – one protective; another medically trained and one empathic by the way he’s trembling at the doorway – with Owen, checking my pulse.

I try to speak, but the rush of water within my head begins to get louder again it blocks out everything around me.

My body must be seizing uncontrollably because can distantly feel someone's hands wrapping around me to stop my body thrashing about until finally the distinct prick of a needle silences the water, allowing me to go limp in the arms of the person holding me.

Maybe for the better.

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Prologue - 'New Arrivals in the Grove'

Astarion resting up against a great oak in the centre of the Emerald Grove is busy turning a page in the book he's reading when the hairs of the back neck prickle sensing some type of raw, untamed magic that snapping his book shut gets up noting Halsin who's just returned from helping Zevlor - the elder tiefling, who knew a lot about Halsin even when he was young - had sensed it as well, pausing in his chat with the elder tiefling.

Suddenly, out of nowhere a portal forms ejecting two individuals who land on the ground with a distinct, muffled thump.

Astarion noting to his amusement the smaller one is blushing like mad, berating what turns out to be some kind of elf with highly decorated bow on his back with Halsin walking over to greet the pair, asking them in tone that neither angry or attack-mode more curious in who they were 'Who are they?"

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"So your saying were not in….where we come from….but a place called Emerald Grove." The other elf, called Iorveth, when Astarion had asked the mysterious, unknown wood elf his name noting how he keeps a hand around the waist of the human who sits beside.

Stating the 'dho'ine' as humans were termed where Iorveth came from was his and nobody else, he could see why Halsin was respecting the other elf's privacy by not intruding to deep into their lives.

"Yes, it happened once before. Well before my time, a white-haired silver wolf landed in the Grove along with another companion. I believe may have records in the library about the visit." Halsin states, causing Iorveth to laugh like he knows who precisely who Astarion's mate is talking about.

"Trust the infamous White Wolf as he is called to arrive in this place. Don't worry, him and I are friends of sorts." Iorveth says, reassuring that this person Halsin is discussing is not an enemy trying to take over the Grove and is completely harmless along with their 'Mate' who loves them very much.

Halsin, satisfied by the answer leans back slipping his arm around Astarion who blushes slightly in the presance of Iorveth with his human mate who has yet to reveal his name, so decides to be bold and ask them.

"Apologises, but umm….may I ask your name, Lily-one?" Astarion asks, the nickname not intentional but more because of the faded white lilies he can see embrodiared on what their wearing seeing how they still a bit wary of him - probably trying to analyse why he looks pale, has one red eye and a light ice-blue eye ringed with silver and white hair or maybe it was something else.

"Vernon Roche…..I…I'm just…..It's unexpected for some untamed, magical energy to do this where me and Iorveth are from. It's more of been done by a sorceress or mage, though to admit there have been a slight influx in them." Vernon replies, continuing to speak when Astarion indicates for him to go on with speaking. "It worries me, something from where we come from could easily slip through one and it would cause havoc."

Bringing up the tankard of Nutmeg Ale - which Halsin brewed himself - to take sip from it, licking his lips at the strange, taste before taking another sip of it.

"I see. Here it was the Mindflyers as their called, vile creatures if you ever meet one. We already know loads about them." Astarion says, jumping slightly against Halsin, when Iorveth brings up a neatly, severed head from attached to his belt of a Mindflyer.

"You mean this tentacle-freaked thing. Was wondering what it was called? Attacked us during….uhh….well….you know…." Iorveth tails off, blushing so hard it spreads from his face to the tip of his elven ears that quickly buries his face into his drink taking very deep glugs, Vernon equally looking very embarassed that Astarion and Halsin no longer able to hold in the laughter let it out knowing precisely what Iorveth means.

"Oh…..my…..you must spread a lot of pheromones, Iorveth. Or that it…..splahhagggh….Did you just chuck that ale in my face!!!?"

Astarion begins to say, only for Vernon to grab Halsin's still very fill tankard to splash the liquid in his face soaking his hair and white tunic - the black was at least less see through then the white - spluttering in shock and surprise at it.

"Oh, you know. I'm itching to let have whirl with my daggers. Care to join, Lily-one." Astarion snarls out, grinning with fangs exposed - this Dhoine knew how to fight dirty and he liked it.

"Gladly. Need to release some pent-up tension anyway." Vernon retorts back, getting up and following Astarion leaving Iorveth and Halsin sitting at the makeshift stone table with a severed Mindflyer head between them smirking at their lover's and their antics.

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Part 1 - 'The Importance of Identity'

Identity.

Identity was important when Foltest was alive and Vernon was a Blue Stripes commander, commanding his own men in doing tasks which some would fear doing in case of risk of never returning from what they called 'Suicide Missions' but it all changed when Foltest died - a thing Letho had apologised for doing to him, after realising how deeply affected Vernon had become - that he lost that status and identity.

Accusations begin to fly around he was the one who caused King Foltest's death, he was the Hound which Foltest kept leashed to his side and controlled and so many other degrading things he did not want to remember even they haunted him at night.

He never really had told Geralt and Iorveth about it, choosing to lock it away deep in a mind vault never wanting to access those memories again - ever again.

However today it been a sentence from a young elvish brat close to Emerald Grove as him, Iorveth and Geralt had been sent by letter by Halsin that some unknown beasts from where they had come from had entered the surrounding area near the Grove and Halsin was concerned they could try and attack people.

"Vernon Roche you just a Whore…." they begin say to him, only to baulk heavily when Geralt unsheathes his sword from behind his back and Iorveth, gives the sternest glare ever to the young elvish boy at the sametime Vernon can feel a muscle twitching in his face - just who was this damm brat and why did he get Astarion and Halsin vibes from them.

Stepping forwards to confront them, he sees the awkwardness spreading on their face, how sweat is beading down their temples and eyes darting about here and there looking for escape route at the sametime saying "Sorry….." it surprises him.

Blinking, he goes to retort when a flash of silver light happens and next moment the young elvish boy is no-more but instead a field mouse in their place who makes dash for into the centre of the grove, Iorveth hot on it's heels leaving Vernon to look at Geralt who sheathing his sword walks down with to see Astarion berating Iorveth and holding in his hands the field-mouse.

"You….attack my own son!!!?" Astarion screeches, startling some birds from the trees, forcing heads to turn to the source and Vernon wishing he could now just disappear.

This was going be awkward and embarassing to even explain why Iorveth had done so.

"YOUR SON, CHOSE TO CALL MY….MATE…A VERY RUDE THING, FANG-SUCKER!!!?" Iorveth shouts, before standing up straight to calm himself muttering as gets out his pipe to smoke it with Astarion placing his son down to talk with him - a flash of silver light and the field mouse is now the elvish boy who has his head lowered and looking very meek and frightened.

"Is this true, Halin? Sweetie, I already told you….you don't just say random words like that. Has Kalina being say things to you again?" Astarion asks his son, who gives a meek "Yes" quickly rising his head to look at his Mama.

"But….she only said because she thought he looked he'd been one….I'm sorry…Mama….I didn't mean…..to…"

"Apologise to our guests, not to me." Astarion sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose to relieve a headache coming on. "Especially, Vernon Roche, particularly. Now do it, turn and face him."

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Notes:

A Plague Tale Fanfic 'Resolve'

Notes:

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Prologue - 'Shattered Hope' (1 of ?)

Many Years Earlier (set during the outbreak of the Justinian Plague, Basilius Imprisonment and Aelia)

Location - Sacred Chapel Lands of La Sucaros, Island of La Sucaros - 541 A.D - Late Evening

A figure wearing a hooded robe, plus some type of armour walks calmly up a stone-path carved into the side of a large mountain that protects a valley down below, huggin the sides where parts of path have over years of weathering collapsed forming large gaps revealing a long drop down below.

Finally reaching the top of the mountain's plateau, they look back down the valley - the town with it's harbour filled with various sizes of fishing vessels, the large light-house to bring ships home and finally the once great palace where the children Basilius and Aelia Dragas once lived before they had disappeared never to be seen again.

A sudden large explosion coming from two other mountains with a large gap between startles them, quickly turning towards the source of the noise to see a cloud of dust rising upwards into the night-air.

"No....No....No....they couldn't have!!!?"

They begin to run, passing a series of vegetable fields and cultivated vineyard where workers who'd been heading home are watching the plume of greyish-black smoke continuing to raise upwards and blot out the moon's light.

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"PILE MORE BARRELS BY THAT DOOR!!? I WANT IT OPEN IMMEDIATLY!!!?"

Slaves in tattered rags and chains on wrists and ankles ferry back and forth carrying large amphora jars of Greek Fire from a cart over to a massive double door bearing a faded fresco on it that almost looks like it is respresenting death.

"Is this wise?"

"Do you have better ideas??"

"No, Senator Vitalis I."

A sudden commotion, followed by a hooded figure being flung down onto the stone-ground to be quickly pinned down by heavy armoured soldiers where they claw in desperation to try to get free, only for a dagger to stab straight down into their hand, interrupts the conversation between the Senator and the soldier.

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SEVERAL DAYS LATER

Location – Mindflyer Ship – Area Unknown – approaching Early Morning

Astarion’s P.O.V:

Sharp, blinding pain like being stabbed by thousand needles – even worse when Cazador had carved the mark on my back with his ‘needle’ as he called it – forces to shoot my eyes open seeing at first a blurry image in front of me then it clears to reveal I’m trapped in some kind of pod.

Panic begins to set in me on how to escape when a Mindflyer appears out of nowhere pressing something on the side of the pod where the unexpected sensation of dreaded fear fills my whole body at their presence.

I find myself becoming paralysed with their clawed slimy, cold hand grabbing hold of my chin to forcefully turn it to reveal the two puncture marks on neck - Cazador's fang-marks - using their other hand to pry my jaw open to reveal my fangs.

It's gaze is unnerving, like it's analysing me under a microscope - noting my fangs, how I produce the venom - less potent then actual Vampire's venom though - and the sharpness of them - until pulling back to float itself over to a pool of liquid where something white and tadpole lake swims within the ominious liquid.

The Mindflyer summons it out, bringing the floating white parasitic tadpole over to my trapped body in the pod where desperation begins to seep into me that I start to thrash in restraints holding me trapped within the pod.

"NO.....DON'T YOU....DARE....BR..."

Shouting loudly in the large chamber only for a clawed hand grabs hold my whole face - completely covering it - to slam the back of my head against the back of the curved pod-wall with a sickening crack reaching my ears.

My whole body goes limp in the pod, blood trickling down the back of the nape of my neck along with dizziness overwhelming me it allows the Mindflyer to remove their hand from my face to slip it around to wrench my head back by my hair.

A faint whimper escapes me due to the radiating pain from my head injury, fingers twitching uselessly - itching to raise up and claw the face of the Mindflyer but can't - seeing the white parasite-like tadpole being brought up to my right eye.

It's gnashing teeth inch closer and closer, until the thing lunges straight inwards it sends immediate writhing, unexplainable pain throughout my nerves, blood and especially head.

It feels like my skull is splitting apart - memories being shattered apart into tiny fragments by the burrowing parasite-like tadpole I cannot grasp them to save from being destroyed - until finally having completed it's task the pain stops.

Wetness is trickling down my cheeks, but it's not even affecting the Mindflyer in front of me who floats away to shut the pod leaving me alone with nothing left in my mind - I cannot remember any face who appears as I try to remember with it trickling away like sand through one's fingertips.

A harsh sharp blinding pulsating wave through my head from the parasite-like tadpole inhibiting it knocking me into an unconcious state.

I try to fight back, resist only to feel myself in mind harshly wrenched downwards to a black abyss falling slowly until landing in large lake of crimson where the waters of it begin to submerge my body - moving rapidy upwards - until the last sight I see floating above me is mirror image.

It's pale, white hand comes down to cover my face pushing me it back so I become fully submerged underneath the crimson waters - trapped beneath it, reminding of when my Master Cazador had placed me in sealed coffin as punishment for disobeying him.

It's the only I remember and nothing else. Nothing at all.

Not even the person who stirred up thoughts of woodland, warmth and hazel brown eyes ringed with gold.

What did it mean?

Who was this person?

Did I seduce them to take to Cazador?

I cannot remember.......I cannot remember.......

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Note:

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Notes:

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Prologue - 'A Pale Elf in a Grove' (1 of 3)

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Location - Emerald Grove, Western Heartlands, West Faerun - Approaching Early Morning

Astarion's P.O.V:

"Is Halsin a fool?!!! Why has he brought this 'thing' here!!!?"

"I do not know….it greatly concerns….Archdruid Halsin!!!… We…..yes…..we understand…."

Voices.

Whispering amongst themselves before going silent, footsteps fading into the distance of somewhere which smells moist, lush and fresh - like it's not been tainted by any pollutants - and movement of something large, warm and furry choosing to lay down beside me.

Why couldn't I remember what had happened? What even had happened? Had I been attacked by someone or something?

Those questions remain swirling around my aching head - like I been hit by something very heavy and large - that it is difficult to even force myself to wake up so can check my surroudings, only sink into deeper sleep like I'm being made to do it to help me heal. So different when my Master Cazador treated me - his more of punishment so cruel, unkind and harsh it border on machositic that he didn't really care how many times he hurt me.

I must have whimpered because a soft chuffing noise comes from the large, warm furry thing beside me with wet snout nudging me to force me to roll onto my side to face into a warm furry belly and chest of what scenting register is in fact bear at least I think it is. I want to wake, I need to wake.

But the drowiness is settling in so fast, a soothing calming wave washing over me that find myself relaxing for the first time in centuries, allowing myself to fall asleep against the warmth of the large bear beside me.

TIME SKIP

"Hnngh…..Gaahhh!!!?" It is the sensation of sunlight from above burning it's way up my exposed arm which forces me very rudely awake from the deep, healing slumber I had been placed under trying to get up when realise a large, muscular arm - human?…. No….scenting the air…..again….a Wood Elf - is over my waist effectively trapping me against a very muscular, large and naked Wood elf bearing a tattoo mark on one side of his face and horredenous, but oddly enough appealing scars from no doubt from being attacked on his face as well.

Concerned about promixity of our bodies, I shuffle my lower half backwards away from the Wood elf's groin area only to give out a yelp when the large hand which has been around my waist immediatly yanks me flush against the large, muscular chest forcing me to place both my hands on it - or more accurately on top of the Wood Elf's pecs on both their dusky hued nipples to my embarassment even though this unnamed Wood elf does look like a fine specimen.

The sudden hiss of sunlight touching my exposed skin causes me to thrash soon in their grip, managing to wriggle free to quickly roll over to the shadows.

Collapsing slump up against a base for a statue of a wolf carved from stone, I wince at the stinging ache from the sun-burn on my arm hoping my healing factor kicks in, only to notice the wood elf has woken up looking straight at me.

"It's alright, I won't harm you." the wood elf says, voice so deep, husky and soothing it sends a strange shiver through me at the sametime that luring scent of his sweet, smelling blood reaches me.

It is so tempting, I don't realise I prowled out of the shadows into a shaft of sunlight until I'm scrambling back into them cursing myself with my fangs unsheathing themselves, steam still rising from the sun-burnt wounds until finally wisping away and bits of my burnt skin turned to ash to flutter to the ground

"I…need you….to stay just there…" I warn them, only for them to ignore my warning coming over to kneel down in front of me taking hold of my wrist to pull my arm out straight investigating the damage, seeing when I turn my face to one side to wince with eyes slipping shut or peeking open slightly to watch what he's doing.

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Notes:

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Prologue (2 of 3) - 'Losing Control to Unexpected Emotions Rising within One'

Location - Emerald Grove, Western Heartlands, West Faerun - Early Morning

Astarion's P.O.V:

Halsin – as the Druid or Archdruid to be precise of Emerald Grove is called – is an enigma of a Wood Elf, with most of his time discussing about Nature, protecting the Grove and in his spare time doing mostly mundane things which some to admit were interesting to know about:

his whittling of little carvings of animals so detailed it actually fascinated me to watch from afar doing his work; seeing him resist the temptation of honeyed treats being sold by travelling merchants that couldn’t resist haggling with them to include more of new variations every-time they came back to just watch his eyes sparkle and pretend he’s not drooling over them and finally, seeing him in his bear form allowing children to ride on his back.

Looking over to where he’s discussing something highly important with another Druid – a female Half-elf called Jaheira, who keeps on flicking her gaze over to me wariness showing in her eyes - probably about myself.

Deciding not to hang around, I keep myself to the large grove's shadows, avoiding the spots of sunlight to head to the extensive cave-system of the Emerald Grove.

Within the cave-system, I make my way down towards the halfling merchant - Arron - located nearby a Altar busy checking his wares he's ascertained from his travels.

He stiffens though, ears twitching side to side then turns his gaze to look at me leaning up against a rock pillar in the shadows causing him to give out a ‘Tch, it’s you’ turning to face me where crosses his arms over his chest.

“I told you already, Pale Elf, if you want to sample my wares find out who’s pickpocketing around here.” Arron states, forcing me to raise an eyebrow because it sounds like he's accusing me of being the one doing it.

"And you think I have something to do with it. Heh, I would not resort myself to such lowly act." I state back, slipping myself away deciding I need to go hunting to distract myself from the mutiple heartbeats that head up to the main entrance.

Reaching where the gate is, I stop myself just in time.

The sun has risen at it's highest peak meaning the gate area is completely flooded with light leaving no shadows for me to use to reach it.

Choosing to lean up against a pillar, I find myself looking over at it trying to ascertain whether make a dash for it or wait until nightfall to go hunting for Prey.

Tilting my head backwards, my mind floods to fact I've not felt any sense of my Master Cazador trying to will me back to the Lair where I took lured Prey - most ended up dead and flung into giant pit, others turned in Spawn like me or completely disappeared that even asking would have risked the ire of him so never asked.

"You seem lost in thought, silver-tongue." the disdaining, dripping tone of the female druidess half-elf Jaheira reaches my ears, I lower my head down un-leaning myself from the pillar I brush past her quickly refusing to even acknowledge when find myself suddenly yanked backwards by a glowing tendril of energy straight into large area of sunlight I'd been trying to avoid.

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“Jaheira, what have….you done…!!!?”

“You are too soft, Halsin. We cannot trust this, silver-tongue. You must have noticed how ‘it’ avoids the shadows!!!”

“That I already know. It doesn’t mean you act irrational by doing what you did.”

Shuddering into wakefulness, the first thing to reach my nostrils is the scent of wildflowers – a mixture of so many it takes time to list – with my eyes fluttering open to reveal I’m lying naked in a on a bed of vines and wildflowers entwined together in a cocoon with no sunlight penetrating it.

My acute hearing had picked up Halsin berating until finally blessed silence with me having to use my Predator senses to see how many heat signatures are outside of the healing cocoon – only one – with a gap appearing to reveal the large, wood elf.

Realising he may see the circular scar on my back, I try to move myself only for so much agony to shoot through my body I curl into myself with my bandaged hands wrapping around my bandaged waist shaking so much at it.

“Hgnnnhh…..shit…..shit…..”

Cursing under my breath, biting my bottom lip along with his large hands rolling me onto my back – checking me over – until finally a soothing healing wave from both his hands spreads over me. He is leaning over me in the process, I find myself eying the throbbing, pulsing vein in his neck that pumps his lifeforce within his body.

“Is something wrong?” He asks me, so suddenly I don’t know how to give a proper answer to him which may convince him I'm just appreciating his body and not his blood flowing in his veins.

"I…..umm…may I taste…." I begin to ask, only for him to sit back resting his hands on his lap finishing my sentence. "…to taste my blood." it makes me scramble upwards needing to leave only for him to take hold of me turning my chin to force my face into the crook of his neck.

"Drink."

A command, but not a forced, soft and gentle with myself fully turning in his arms to rest up against his large, muscular chest slipping my hand up cradle the back of his head to tilt his head backwards by his soft, hazel brown locks.

Fangs unsheathing themselves, I sink them straight in hearing him give out a stiffening grunt at it knowing he will react to the venom which will give a numbness and pleasured feeling to the Prey being subdued.

All is quiet, except for occasional soft grunts coming from each-time I take a sip of his blood until finally his large arms are pushing me back seeing how drunk I've become on the taste on it - a blush rising on my cheeks, lips coated still in some of it, that it is so addicting it is feat in me trying to avoid going back for more.

Instead, moving myself over him and placing one hand on his chest to push him down to lay flat on his back noting his hazel brown eyes ringed with gold looking up at mine. Putting my hands either side of his head, I bend down my head down to rest my forehead against his wondering should I do it, licking my lips.

“Thank you.” I tell him, finding weird saying it because I’m not used to saying it – I been ingrained in Master Cazador’s rules and have already broken one – before sealing my lips over his, feeling him stiffening underneath me only to respond with soft, equal fervour it is something part of me wants and other is rebelling at it.

I try to pull away, but he pulls me back into devouring my mouth with his own – lips changing position each-time to deepen the kissing between us both, his tongue flicking across them begging admittance so allow for it to happen.

My whole body quivers up against him.

The sensation of his large hands wrapping around my body, one cradling the back of my head and other resting on my back with his warm, moist tongue entwining with mine inside and outside my mouth makes me want to pull away from him.

Managing to release my lips from his, I gasp breathlessly with my face turned to one side willing myself to calm down - use the seductive techniques I use for Prey to take back to Cazador on him.

“Astarion…..look at me.” Halsin says, voice husky with arousal making me turn my face to look up at him seeing how affected he is – his pupils dilated, lips still swollen from our kissing and no doubt his aroused below – then continues to speak. “I…. don’t whether I can control myself in what happens next.”

Bringing both my hands up to cup his cheeks, looking up into those hazel brown eyes ringed gold I realise what is happening to me - I'm losing control to unexpected emotions rising up within me.

And it is frightening me.

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Notes:

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Prologue (3 of 3) - 'When an Unexpected Event Separates Those Close to Others'

Location - Baldur's Gate, Sword Coast, Western Heartlands - 'Whispering Weave' Tavern near the Harbour - Approaching Mid-Morning 

12 DAYS LATER

Making my way through the streets of Baldur's Gate towards the 'Whispering Weave' Tavern, I keep an eye on Lesia who is running ahead - her wispy fae form so different from the various Baldurians and other travellers walking back and forth - of me.

My mind is thinking about my half-brother Halsin - an Archdruid of the Emerald Grove located in the Western Heartlands, Western Faerun - knowing it's been quite some time we have met up to discuss things or even talk properly.

Approaching the Tavern, which is near the Harbour, I see two people are walking down towards it - though one of them seems to be keeping mostly to the shadows I notice and the other I recognise is Halsin, who spotting me goes to say something when I finally reach the both of them only to bite his bottom lip which his companion notices before flicking his gaze over to me.

Lesia, spotting Halsin runs up to him to greet him and hold out her little hands to be lifted up by him.

I wait to see whether he will do it, part of me - an unknown, uncontrolled side whispers, 'Kill them both' and other horrendous things - and the more rational side - though don't know how long it will last - knows he can't deny her.

Finally, he bends down to lift her up, surprising his silvery white-haired companion beside him that approach though still with caution because it's been quite some time since seen him.

"Hello, little one." Halsin says, smiling softly with his companion - keeping to the shadows - admiring in their own way until finally turns their gaze to me.

Behind the white-bone mask I wear to cover my face a strange, prickling sense that I'm being analysed by a Predator hits me.

My own unknown Predator's senses soon wanting to confront back and tear their throat out.

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Astarion’s P.O.V:

Coming back to Baldur’s Gate after twelve days, I know at some point Cazador will send out my ‘siblings’ to collect me but he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to do so as myself and Halsin walk through the marketplace close to the Harbour.

Stopping in the shadows of archway, Halsin turns to face me when sees I seem to be not my usual self – my body tone is showing wariness – so brings a hand up to cup my cheek to reassure me everything is alright with him being here for me.

Immediately resting my forehead against his, hands moving to rest own on his large, muscular chest it makes me realise the twelve days and nights we’ve shared together – his soft, breathless kisses he will give me; reassuring me when nightmares overwhelmed and finally, making sure my bloodthirst is sated – it has felt like freedom.

“I…don’t want to leave you….just yet….” I admit, knowing we must go our separate ways with him heading back to the Emerald Grove and myself back to my ‘prison’ kissing him soon on the lips where he uses his other hand to pull me flush up against him.

Around us the noises of the Harbour and the Marketplace reach my ears – Market stallers shouting out the wares; dock workers heading up and down ramps on ships delivering various goods back and forth and Baldurians going about their daily lives – but I’m not listening to it, just relaxing to kiss my ‘Mate’ is giving me.

Finally pulling back from it, licking my lips at his taste, I smile softly up to him slipping one hand down to clasp my fingers with his, while we soon begin to make our way to the Tavern called 'Whispering Weave' to share a last moment drink before going our separate ways.

Discovering that Halsin had a ‘brother’ of some kind is unexpected, because he never mentioned anything about having a family until now so meeting them – who wears long black thief clothing with hood included, plus bone-white mask hiding their face – along with a little fae child called Lesia, it is taking me some time to try and make sense of them.

I can tell they are like me almost – a Predator fighting their own instincts to attack the presence of another Predator in front of them.

Deciding to introduce myself is the better option of being silent and not saying anything to them.

“You have a beautiful child.” I comment, making them turn their gaze to me.

Body language still showing signs of wariness but relaxing enough to respond back to me.

“She’s….Thank you…Umm…” they begin to say, allowing me to introduce myself. “…Astarion Ancunin, a pleasure to meet you…”

“Asdalen.” They nonchalantly reply, causing Halsin to lower the little one wanting to say something but closes his month instead like he knows it may not help the both of them.

Torn between the awkwardness I’m sensing rising between them both, I decide to relieve it by deciding to say something which is mundane yet helps "I'm famished. How about we all get a bite to eat and all have a good chat together. Maybe even hear some of your lute music, Asdalen.' clapping both my hands together seeing how Lesia jumps up and down at hearing the words 'bite to eat' pulling her adopted father's sleeve.

Halsin having composed himself, slips his arm around my waist to pull me against his side and giving me a certain look of 'I didn't know you had an interest in music' it makes my chest ache at the look he gives me. The sudden thought is that I want to know everything about him - how he become Archdruid, what was his childhood like, how did he find out about his brother - and his brother.

Repair what feels like a fragile relationship between them which could easily be broken anytime.

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Location - Baldur's Gate, Sword Coast, Western Heartlands - 'Whispering Weave' Tavern near the Harbour - Mid-Morning

Asdalen’s P.O.V:

“Have you been travelling far?”

“Only to certain areas. There’s been some places refusing travellers entry.”

Drunken laughter, chatter and clinking of mugs fills the air with myself and Lesia sitting with Halsin and Astarion in an alcove at the far back of the Tavern where Astarion sitting next to my half-brother is asking me about my travels.

Most of what I tell him is about how on my travels where noticed Missing Poster had been appearing a lot; some places were wary of new travellers due to whispers about raise of Cultists and more monsters beginning to appear in certain areas.

“I see. To admit, I’ve not noticed….that kind of thing due….” Astarion begins to say only tail off, taking a sip of the wine he’s ordered with Halsin moving a hand to place it over his – squeezing it lightly to reassure the pale, High elf who gives weak smile.

‘You’ve been hiding in the shadows for too long.’ I state internally, not saying it out loud lest the Gur Hunters sitting only a few feet away from where we’re sitting overhear and come over to investigate.

Halsin, is happy. A soft, warm glow Lesia describes it to me in silent communication which reassures my brother will be alright in the relationship he has with Astarion leaving me to think of one person who I miss the most – Gale Dekarios, my lover and chosen Mate.

Where is he now?

Is he coping?

Has he returned to Waterdeep?

“Bard, do you play?” A new voice asks of me, leaving the internal questions in my head unanswered, so turn my face to the source seeing a figure wearing fine refine stands there indicating to the lute in the holder on my back.

“I play, yes. It depends on the crowd though and what they would like to hear.” I reply, seeing the newcomer raise one delicate eyebrow in amusement at it. “And you…. what would you like to hear?” asking them a question back to them.

“Me?! Well, let’s see…” They reply, bringing one hand up to tap their chin in deep thought until give small smirk at me. “How about an original composition. I believe this one should suffice ‘Beautiful Voice of the Past’ for you, Bard.”

A violent visible shudder goes through me, Astarion placing his hand on my arm to pull me back down into my seat – I hadn’t realised I had stood up to confront the newcomer – my mind torn in how they knew about the song – a song I composed only for Gale and no-one else – and who played it.

“I don’t play it for crowds.” I whisper under my breath, voice breaking with so much emotion I get back up with Lesia sensing I need to leave allowing me to pick her up.

Politely excusing myself when brush past the newcomer, I weave through the patrons and tables to reach the main Tavern door or would have if it hadn’t been for sudden explosion sending myself and her still in my arms flying backwards over the Tavern bar into the alcohol drink-rack hard.

Followed by tinkling noise of smashed apart bottles of wine, beer and brandy to name a few.

The wooden shelf collapses under my weight, forcing my body to fall to the floor in wounded, bleeding heap of a mess with Lesia beginning to whimper in my arms – her little fae body fading in and out focus due to being very frightened of what is happening – seeing the blurred image of the Tavern patrons running out in all directions only to be cruelly snatched up by what appear to be Mindflyers.

Another explosion rocks the tavern, sending shockwaves through the floorboards which begin to crack and splinter in all directions – sending shards of wood flying in all directions – feeling below me the wooden floor give out on myself with Lesia being wrenched out of my arms by something leaving me to fall into the blackness of the underground cellar.

The faint roars of my Brother’s Wildshape, Lesia crying out my name again and again reach me with Astarion lunging himself towards the collapsed hole made by the falling floorboards to grab hold of my wrist trying in vain to pull me back up – even though I can see he’s struggling due the wounds he’s ascertained.

“Asdalen, quick…..give me your other hand before the next wave hits!!!? It seems to be full-scaled attack on Baldur’s Gate!!!? We need….NO!!!! GET THE HELL AWAY ME…!!!!?” He cries out, only to panic heavily looking over at something or someone I cannot see due to my disadvantaged angle.

A fast, but to me blurred, inky-black shadow speeds it's over to him in such a blink of an eye to knock him over to the other side, leaving me with nothing to grab hold onto to help pull me back up to safety.

Falling for quite some time, I finally reach the bottom of what turns out to be the underground lower cellar for the Tavern with sickening, bone-crunching thud – worse agony than what my own people, the Drows have done to me – it shatters everything instantly, finding myself going limp at it immediatly.

So, this is how I die?

Separated from my half-brother who just met again?

I never got to even tell him…..everything……

Halsin…..Astarion……Lesia…

My thoughts wander in my head, my body is lying shattered beyond compare and any chance of moving is not probable with how serious my injuries are from the shards of glass embedded in it and large wood splinters.

My blood can distantly feel is pooling out from underneath my body or over it to trickle off it to cover the cobbled stones of the cellar in various array of crimson petals.

The unknown, uncontrolled side seems to be gleefully laughing in my head at the demise – death by falling, shattering every bone in my body and allowing my lifeforce to drain away.

It's the last thing I hear before blackness swoops in dark like raven’s wings and I remember nothing thereafter.

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Plot Summary:

A story of how a Mage and Qunari who are both of different races slowly over time as they spent having adventures together begin to develop something more between them.

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Prologue - 'The Beginning of a Thread of Fate Weaving between Two Different Races to Join Them Together' (Part 1 of ?)

Location - Un-named river some distance from Redcliffe Village - Hinterlands, Ferelden - Late Evening

In an area surrounded by meadow grass and wildflowers, while a river winds it way through mountainous region a few feet away, Dorian Pavus flicks through the tome he picked up on his travels using the light from the crackling camp-fire to illuminate the pages so he can read them - some of the writing is faded over time with other parts missing paragraphs but the diagrams helped understand the spells being mentioned.

So absorbed in his reading of the tome he doesn't hear his second companion travelling with him approaching the camp, until a thud of something heavy lands close-by making him lift his head to see some kind of wild boar lays there - though looking more mutated and hybrid-looking - then flicks his gaze up to his large companion who's reached for a large carving knife to sharpen it with a whetstone.

"Don't worry, I know which cuts to get that won't make us ill." Iron Bull - a Beast of the the Qunari - states to Dorian who's wondering if should decline in eating but his stomach betrays him by choosing to grumble indicating he's hungry.

This makes the large Qunari chuckle at him, standing up to pick up the wild boar's body to take it over to the branch of tree to begin skinning it - removing the fur; other parts which are inedible and finally cutting it so effeciently and effortlessly that Dorian forgets for a moment Iron Bull has murdered various people in similar ways as he watches the sight of the minotaur working away.

The slope of the large muscles shifting, every soft way the hands slide over the dead boar's body testing to see which way to cut and turning it to check the other side of it that gulping slightly, Dorian shuts the tome to place in his travelling pack and getting up heads down to river needing some space.

His mind begins to flood with so many images, he quickly places a clenched fist in his mouth to silence any sounds - this was frankly embarassing, he's acting like a young randy male seeing a female they like but don't want to admit - when he reaches the beach-area nearby the river curve so that Iron Bull can't pick them up, his other resting over his abdomen close to his groin.

"Control yourself, Dorian…..Control yourself…..you hate his Race…..remember….." He mutters under his breath, only for sudden image of him and the beast embraced in such a way his clenched fist moves away from his mouth to grip his shoulder and other cup himself between his thighs arching slightly when unexpected heat floods through him at it.

He moans breathlessly to his shame, horror and embarassment knowing that the Qunari would pick it up with their acute hearing only to sink down onto the sandy ground lying back to begin to rub himself through his breeches, thighs quivering intensely and mind flooding with so many images, whispers and sensation of being embraced he can't help but let out mewling breathless gasps, pants and whimpers.

What is happening to him?

Why was heat flooding throughout his system like his body had realised he was compatible with the Qunari when records stated it wasn't possible for a Beast of the Qunari to be compatible with a Human and other species and only their own.

Was it because of when they met that fateful rainfall night the touch from the Qunari had left an imprint and somehow they both become compatible?

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 PART 1 - 'How the Thread First Formed Between Two'

Location - Tevinter Imperium - Nothern Thedas, Minrathous - Approaching Late Evening 

2 Years Earlier

Rain is falling down heavily on the streets of Tevintar Imperium in Northern Thedas, Minrathous, drowning out the sounds of scuffle going on between four people – the fourth trying to make dash for it, an alleyway between two large buildings briefly becoming illuminated by an eerie light which fades away when they are knocked over before can get out of the alleyway where curses in native Tevene begin to fill it.

“Maybe we should gag him for good measure. This….fucking mage as a mouth on him doesn’t he.”

“Just remember his….the Magister Pavus I mean wants him alive.”

“Heh, yeah good coin being paid for escorting this….”

Dorian Pavus – son of Halward Pavus and Aquinea Thalrassian – finds him struggling in vain to get away from the larger of the Hired Thugs pinning him down onto the alleyway ground mostly grinding to his vain his face into it, discussing with the other two thugs debating on what do with him.

It is a handful of days since he run away from his home and for good intentions and reasons, he never wanted to set foot there again. Surrounded by something which had started to become the equivalent of a gilded cage which he begins to wonder would ever be able to get out of.

“Heh, seems our Mage here is being a little too quiet.” One of the Hired Thugs notes, squatting down in front of him to reach out to grab hold of the back of his head by his hair wrenching it upwards to force him to look at harsh, unforgiving cold eyes. “What you thinking about? Way to escape?”

Glaring back, Dorian refuses to answer resulting a hand immediately slapping him across the face so hard it leaves his ears ringing and splitting his lower lip in the process allowing blood to trickle down the side of his lip and chin closely followed by a hand grabbing hold of his chin to dig their nails harshly into his cheeks when they say their next words.

“You know I always hated Vint’s like this, Pompous, arrogant and vain. Only thinking about themselves.”

Brought up onto his feet, Dorian wonders if can summon a quick spell – one that will get rid of the Hired Thugs - when a gruff, deep voice interrupts it sends prickles up and down him in a such a way it felt like when one meets their Soulmate for the first time and their coloured Soul Threads connect.

“And does that count for yourself as well."

A very large, tall figure stands there at the entrance to the alleyway wearing a faded hooded cloak looking straight at the Hired Thugs surrounding him.

"So......Did you miss me?" Is the first words from the large hooded figure - who after the brief glimpse Dorian had seen of their face when they were fighting is a Qunari who looks oddly familiar and bringing back a memory of night at a Masked Party, an embrace in large arms and so much unexpected overstimulation it was feat he managed to get up to leave in the morning - as he leans against the alley brick-wall with his arms crossed over his chest and staff back in its holder on his back.

Sighing heavily with one hand up coming to pinch the bridge of his nose he wonders how he answer the Qunari - the hulk of a beast who he had a one night stand with, before escaping from the guest bedchamber lest fear of scandal of being discovered bedding a Qunari - whose name he doesn't know, who is busy going through the Hired Thugs until finds one still alive.

"I...Don't have a clue what you mean by 'Did I miss you?' because 1. I don't know who you are and 2. What are you doing?" Dorian replies, watching the Qunari turn their hooded gaze to him before gets up, just after bounding their prisoner in tight ropes so the singled-out Hired Thug cannot escape, walking up to where he stands.

A hand slams beside his head onto the alley brickwall allowing for the hooded cloak to slip off slightly revealing one ash-grey hand covered in snaking ink-black tattoos at the sametime the Qunari presses closer to him it forces him to turn his face to one side to not look at them.

"You have to understand....you felt the sensation didn't you?" The Qunari asks him, referring of course to the feel of a Soul-Thread connecting him to their's making Dorian, blush so heavily it's no doubt showing on his face even in the dim moonlight alongside the promixity of them against his body.

"Vishante kaffas!! I have no idea what your talking about!!!? Now if you'll excuse me....I like to get on....mmfffff!!!?" Dorian begins to say, only for lips to smash into his before he can even protest or cast a spell sending a throbbing wave of something through the forming Soul Thread making him slump against their large body, feeling one hand slide around to embrace him and the other come up to cradle the back of his head.

His fingers twitch heavily, hands spasming before manages to wrench free stumbling down the alleyway to compose himself.

Dorian brings up to his slightly swollen lips a shaking hand - the Qunari had just kissed him!!!? Without even a warning, just did it to him.

Angry at the forcefulness of it he forms a lightening ball in one hand, turning fully around to face the Qunari standing there watching him to send it hurtling towards them choosing not to hang around to check if worked or not. 

His mind beginning to flood with a memory of a masked party, the mysterious large Qunari and everything else that had happened that fateful night as he keeps on running and running through the weaving alleyways and down empty streets passing by houses, shops and market stalls until out of one of the many large city gate's into the wildness of a land unknown to him. 

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Notes:

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Part 2 – The Beginning (1 of ?)

Location - The Fade also known as The Beyond - Location of Realm Unknown 

It is an quiet, eerie stillness of without sound which makes Verikas flutter his eyes open, faintly seeing the blurred large figure of his close friend Ku’rac – a Qunari who had become exiled from his people due to disagreements with them – lying close-by then his vision fully clears to reveal he is in the Fade.

Around wispy emerald mist raises in different areas, structures of crumbled elvish ruins float in the air way above - some facing upside down and others dissembling - then hears a pained groan coming from Ku'rac making him get up, stumbling slightly forwards swaying due to experiencing the Fade for the first time trying to remember what happened but all he is getting is fractured memories of group of people talking; a cloaked hooded figure wearing a mask with liliac vines on it and then a explosion of raw, untimed magical energy originating from somewhere.

"Ku'rac....Ku'rac...." Verikas reaching his friend calls out, trying to rouse the Qunari who gives pained groan with both his hands twitching - unclenching and clenching - until flutters his eyes open, gaze soon focusing on him with Ku'rac allowing him to help him to sit up

"Verikas, what.....the Maker just happened?!! Last thing I remember was watching you from the balcony about to state you don't want to be an Inquisitor then nothing afterwards!!" Ku'rac asks him so many questions he cannot give his friend any of the answers to, because even himself doesn't know them.

"I....have faint memory but will have to discuss it later. We need to get out of here." Verikas replies, his keen hearing picking up that they are not alone with him helping Ku'rac to stand up, followed by noticing a bright light in the distance.

Both agree that they should head towards it to investigate what it could be, quickly making their way across crumbling platforms; clambering up floating islands above them and coping with walking upside down or even sideways until finally reach a flight of stone-carved steps.

"Verika, spiders!!!?" Ku'rac calls out to him, pointing to mass of them skittering across over to where they are located he begins to run up the stairs only to trip over a step when a sudden and unexpected sharp, lightening-like pain radiates from his hand through every nerve ending he finds himself giving out a bloodcurdling scream.

His legs give out on him with Ku'rac sweeping in to grab hold to cradle in his large arms, running up the stone-carved steps where the light of the figure waiting seems to enamate outwards that Verikas doesn't remember what happens next.

Just the words 'You'll will live. The both of you' closely followed by blackness.

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