Dance Amongst The Roses | Astarion x OC | Gale x OC

Chapter 6: Misconceptions & Magic

Back at the camp, beneath the waning sun, the comrades shed their armor and retreated into their tents. Christinus distanced himself from the ambient chatter, slipping into the shadows clad in his nocturnal garb. Navigating uneven ground, he reached a solitary spot near a looming boulder. Unsteadily, he descended, resting against the stone to compose himself.

The air hung thick with tension. Beads of moisture trickled down his forehead, and anguish radiated from his fingertips. He pressed them to his lips, encountering a disconcerting medley of saliva, sweat, and blood. Could it be—

"Ch'k'l ghaik Vlaakith m'zath'ak!" Lae'zel materialized, brandishing a dagger. She forcefully pinned the elf against the boulder, the glint of her blade menacingly close to his neck. "Can you feel it coursing through you? Tendrils writhing in your chest, seizing your heart, penetrating your abdomen? Do you sense your flesh swelling?" Her breath lingered on his skin, her threats reverberating in his ears.

"I can. I perceive it in you. Feel it within me. We are adrift. I shall wield my blade swiftly. First you, then the others. Then myself."

Their minds entwined through the tadpoles. Christinus discerned a hint of uncertainty and revulsion. Swift thinking was imperative, seconds away from forfeiting his life. He tapped into the illithid power, delving deeper into her thoughts. Fear clung to her—not of death, but of insignificance. She dreaded failing her kin, remaining forever unknown to her queen, unable to yield a silver sword or ride a red dragon.

"Stand resolute," he urged, maintaining a steadfast expression. "You will endure. You shall earn your queen's favor."

Her countenance shifted in response. Slowly, she released him, drawing back. "I will not let the ghaik take me. I will earn Vlaakith's honor." She sheathed her blade, turning away, yet halted. Abruptly, her face pivoted to meet his gaze over her shoulder. "Know this: I am watching. If the sickness does not pass come dawn, you will die." With that, she departed, leaving the elf to contemplate his dire predicament.

He released a heavy sigh the moment she vanished from his sight. Folding into himself, he hugged his knees to his chest, seeking solace within his own body. No audience to captivate, no adversary to outsmart—just him, surrounded by the forest in this fleeting moment. The tension that had burdened him unraveled, and tears streamed down his cheeks. His life had undergone a sudden, profound shift, and a part of him wondered if he should have allowed her to end it right then and there.

As he wept, a soothing blue healing aura enveloped his feet, encircling his body. Some unknown force was intervening to shield him, someone he would encounter soon enough.

After a while, he rose, wiping away the moisture from his cheek, and made his way back to his tent. The night was beginning to cast its shadows, and his comrades had settled in. His eyes caught sight of an intriguing book in the corner, and he picked it up, carefully leafing through the pages, absorbing the text. Ideas raced through his mind.

Stepping back into the open air with the book in hand, he headed towards Astarion's tent. The vampire sat on the ground, gazing at the sky, a smirk forming on his face as the camp prince approached.

"It's quite a sight," Astarion spoke in a low, seductive voice. "The stars, I mean. I could take or leave your chin."

Christinus followed the vampire's gaze to the night sky, a soft smile playing on his lips. "They are beautiful tonight."

"I can see the stars from Baldur's Gate, of course, but not with such clarity. It got me thinking. Reflecting on what tomorrow might bring, when we arrive at this gith crèche. Will we find out how to bring this worm under control? Will this adventure of ours be over?"