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Chapter Text

“I am so much more than what you made me, ” Astarion snarled, his fangs digging into his lower lip. He turned, keeping his blade levelled at Cazador, to face Taleah. “I can do this, but I need your help.”

Taleah hesitated, weighing the options. She knew what the ritual meant to Astarion. The tadpole was what allowed him to walk in the sun, to overcome most of the limits of his vampiric nature. It let him feel alive again. Losing all of that would devastate him; the ritual would let him keep it. He wouldn’t need to rely on the tadpole any longer.

But then what? What would he do with the power this ritual promised? What would it turn him into? Taleah looked around the chamber, at the remaining six spawn suspended in place. She thought back to the thousands of people trapped in their cells, oblivious to the reason they had all been gathered.

“If I help you complete the ritual,” she said slowly, “it will kill all these people.” Astarion had shown reluctance before when discussing the price of the ritual; he didn’t want them all to die. But Taleah didn’t know if it would be enough to convince him.

Astarion scoffed, throwing his arms wide. “These people are already dead, have been for years! There’s nothing left but bloodthirsty, feral spawn.” He softened, his voice taking on a pleading tone. “How many people will die if we let them go? How many hundreds of thousands will be sacrificed to their hunger?”

Taleah was silent. She could feel Shadowheart and Gale shifting at her back, unsure how this would go.

Taking her silence for agreement, Astarion pressed on. “But if they die, I will ascend. I won’t need the parasite to walk in the sun. I’ll be truly free. Don’t you want that?”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Taleah said softly. “You’re trying to manipulate my feelings to get what you want.” Astarion flinched slightly, as if she’d struck him. It hurt her to do that, but Taleah needed to get through to him. This would only end badly if she didn’t. “Astarion, you are my friend. I would lay down my life for you, but I cannot stand by and let you commit such an atrocity.”

“I’ve already committed more atrocities than I can count,” Astarion replied, his voice broken. “What’s one more?”

“Because this is the start of your new life, a life free of him. ” Taleah gestured to Cazador, still on his knees. “I want you to be proud of yourself, of the life you’re going to live. Can you honestly tell me you’ll be proud of this?! ”

The last word echoed through the cavern, leaving a poignant silence in its wake.

“...No.” Astarion’s shoulders slumped with realization. “You’re right.” He straightened, taking a deep breath. “I don’t want to be like him. I want to be better. ” His eyes glinted as he turned back to his former master, his lips curling in disgust. “But I’m not above enjoying this. ”

With unnatural speed, Astarion grabbed hold of Cazador’s hair and plunged his dagger into the vampire lord’s chest, driving it down over and over and over and over. As Cazador’s lifeless body slumped to the ground, Astarion kept going, his grunts turning into screams before he finally stepped back, the dagger falling from his limp fingers.

Astarion fell to his knees, his chest shuddering. Sounds like a wounded animal ripped themselves from his throat, not true sobs, but something deeper, more primal and raw.

Taleah rushed forward, dropping to her knees beside him. Gently, heedless of the blood spattered over his torso, she wrapped her arms around the pale elf and pulled him close.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, reaching up to card her fingers through his white curls. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Astarion turned his face to bury it in her shirt, trembling. Taleah tightened her embrace, automatically rocking back and forth slightly as she held him. “You’re okay.”

Footsteps approached, and two more sets of arms wrapped around them both: the slender, armored embrace of Shadowheart, and the soft, strong embrace of Gale.

“We’re here for you, Astarion,” Shadowheart murmured. A soft golden glow enveloped them, healing their wounds.

“We’ll never let you go,” Gale added, his hand squeezing Astarion’s shoulder.

Astarion nodded wordlessly, tears cutting through the grime and gore on his face.

Chapter Text

“...and his leash needs a yank.” Taleah watched in horror as Wyll was dragged toward Mizora by some invisible force, clutching at his neck. “We had a deal, Wyll,” the devil snarled. “But Karlach is still breathing!”

Karlach sneered, baring her teeth. “I’ve taken shits more pleasant than you, Mizora. And I can bury those after.”

Mizora tossed her hair haughtily. “How unladylike of you, Karlach. Oh, by the way…Zariel sends her regards.” Taleah’s stomach turned at the way Mizora’s lips curled on that statement. But her eyes were focused on Wyll, still clutching at his neck and grimacing. Whatever Mizora was doing to him, it looked like it hurt.

“You told me…devils only!” Wyll managed to force out through gritted teeth. “She’s a tiefling, not a monster!!”

This seemed to amuse the devil, who looked down at him with a condescending smirk. “How precious! You’ve finally found your bark, pup.” She drew herself up, squaring her shoulders. “Clause G, Section Nine: ‘Targets shall be limited to the infernal, the demonic, the heartless, and the soulless.’”

Taleah stepped in front of Karlach protectively. She didn’t need to hear the rest of Mizora’s explanation to know what she was getting at.

Mizora immediately confirmed her fears. “Karlach meets the criteria by virtue of having no heart.”

Taleah’s brain was working overdrive. Devils were all about contracts and rules, and finding loopholes to those rules. With sudden clarity, the answer came to her.

“But she does have a heart!” she blurted. Mizora looked at her curiously, almost as though she’d forgotten anyone else was present. Taleah stepped forward, gaining confidence as the surety of her answer solidified. “You said the targets had to be heartless; you never said their hearts couldn’t be artificial. The infernal engine is her heart.”

Wyll glanced over his shoulder at her, and Taleah swore she saw him smiling in approval. She returned it before turning her gaze back to Mizora, one hand reaching for her fiddle. “So if you lay a damned finger on Karlach, you’ll be violating your own terms.”

Mizora scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. Taleah almost missed the way her eye twitched. “Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head; that ship has long since sailed the Styx. However…” she turned back to Wyll, and once again, Taleah felt her stomach churn at the look she gave him, “...naughty pups still have to be punished. To wit:”

It began with a flick of her wrist and a flash of flames. Suddenly, a circle of darkest black ringed with fire appeared beneath Wyll’s feet. Before he could even attempt to run, the blackness captured his feet and legs, slowly spreading up his body as though he were being dipped in ink. Taleah tried to move forward, but Karlach stepped in front of her, holding out an arm.

“Don’t do it, soldier,” she ordered softly, though Taleah could hear the anger and pain in her voice. “She’s one of Zariel’s circle; don’t fuck around with her.”

As Wyll’s body became fully covered, he fell to his knees, crying out in agony. Taleah could hardly watch, but neither could she look away. As Wyll’s screams reached a fever pitch, the fire winked out, and the void covering his body slowly faded away. As it receded, Taleah gasped, her hands coming up to her mouth in horror.

Tiefling-like ridges ran down the sides of Wyll’s neck, and from this angle, Taleah could see more extended down his back. His cheekbones were unnaturally sharp and angled. He turned, looking wildly at his body, and she saw that his good eye had been altered to have the black sclera and burning red iris of a devil. But the most obvious, the most glaring, were the two large horns that now grew from his forehead and curled back over the top of his head, extending a good two inches past his body.

Mizora let out a satisfied sigh. “That’s better,” she purred.

“What the hells have you done?!” Wyll cried, his voice cracking.

“A promise broken, a price paid,” she replied nonchalantly. “You know the terms. Better get used to it, pet. Some magic even I can’t undo. Now,” her voice became cold and hard, “let’s see how the Frontiers fare without their precious Blade.”

As Wyll’s shoulders sagged in defeat, Mizora called, “Karlach, do keep an eye on him, will you?” She turned her gaze to Taleah. “I’ll be keeping mine on you. Oh, and Wyll?” He looked up at her. “Do remember that our pact still stands. Ta-ta.”

Before he could reply, Mizora folded her wings around herself and disappeared in the same inky blackness that had transformed Wyll.

The instant she was gone, Taleah ran forward, her hands hovering over Wyll. “Are you- are you hurt?” She had almost asked if he was alright; a stupid question. He obviously wasn’t.

Slowly, refusing to meet her gaze, Wyll shook his head. “No, I’m…I’m not hurt.” His hands shook as he clenched them. “She…she turned me into–” His voice was cut off as Taleah threw her arms around him, one hand cupping the back of his neck and the other fisting itself in his shirt.

For a moment, Wyll was frozen. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had just…hugged him. It was definitely before he left Baldur’s Gate, he knew. But how long before that? Wyll didn’t know. All he knew was that his patron had been revealed in the worst way possible, and he’d been turned into some strange half-human, half-devil hybrid. And this woman, who’d only known him a few days, had chosen to embrace him without a second thought.

Taleah pulled back a bit, not letting go entirely, but loosening her grip. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask if that was okay with you, I just…you’re hurting, and I can’t fix it, so I did the only thing I could think of to help, and–” Wyll pulled her back in, his own arms wrapping around her tightly.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “It surprised me, that’s all, but…thank you.” He buried his face in her shoulder, trembling. “Thank you.”

Taleah tightened her grip, smiling softly. “Of course. You’re my friend, Wyll.”

Wyll nodded slightly. “Friends.”