Chapter Text
From the very first moments Astarion locked eyes upon her on that sunny hillside, he knew exactly what he must do. The plan. He must enact the plan towards the dear little Tav. There was no question about it. It just had to be done.
It was a series of steps he had long used for centuries, beginning in the long forgotten times of his mortal days where his only interest was to please himself to the current weaponization of it in his servitude for his master. Effective was nearly an understatement when discussing. The plan was more than that. With each usage, it brought down anyone Astarion determined to use it against; simple townsfolk, craftsmen, haughty magistrates, and even royals themselves. All of which, by the end, would fall to their knees, unknowingly begging to become toys for another's gain.
For so long, that gain would be to Cazador. To feed himself fat and happy while Astarion starved just floors below. But now, thanks to his little tadpole's gift, he could reap the rewards. He could finally get some service out of the plan.
The others were barely of his concern for the most part. They were useful allies, he realized very quickly, but not as useful as the Drow Bard who seemed to become leader without anyone realizing. Even the most unagreeable of companions, such as Lae'zel, took to her commands readily without force. Which, the more Astarion watched her, the more he came to understand. Tav didn't physically look as a leader, mostly in part to her obvious Drow heritage that had been instilled in them all to be the looks of villainy, but she certainly spoke and did as one. The few enemies they had run into always moved in defensive stances the moment they caught sight over her rich, dark Palatinate purple skin and silvered hair pulled into a slightly haphazard bun at the top of her pretty head. They'd then turn curious as the fearsome, Underdark foes their bedtimes stories had always foretold arrived with a lute strapped to her back which was clothed in a fine dress of black and golds with matching golden trinket jewelries fitting for her profession. Tav seemed to use the juxtaposition to her favorite, delightfully twisting and turning their thoughts, perceptions, and ideas to fit the best for herself. Never cruel or maddening like a dictator. But clever and calm, without all the swells of tone and volume Astarion tended to utilize, but far more charismatic like the leader they all decided she would be.
She was the one he needed to work on. Yes...with her beneath his thumb...the things he could accomplish while he had the chance...
That very first night they set up camp, Astarion would watch her like a hunter and his prey. She sat upon a rock in the grassy knoll they had decided to stay upon, away from the others, as she plucked the strings of her instrument. The sussur bark of its face, carved with intricate drawings of moons and spiders, nearly glowed a faint blue with each note. The melody she played as something unknown to him. It was foreign from the songs he had heard in taverns back within the city. Perhaps it was one from her homeland of the Underdark. Astarion couldn't help but marvel at its tune, relishing in the newness of it, as he plotted against her.
"Yes, Astarion?" she noticed his gaze upon her. That mother language of hers, Undercommon, chipped at her soothing voice in a peculiar accent. Perhaps it was the first time he had it, as well. Tav seemed to be full of firsts for him.
Astarion mustered that perfect smile he wore all too well. "I'm just admiring the music." he sauntered towards her. The warm light of the fire from behind him was dimming with each step, the blue-white cast of the moon replacing it. "It's rather lovely...the tune."
Tav barely looked from her lute towards him. Her blood-red rich irises just rolled to the corner of her eyes to bore into his soul. Typically, Astarion was rather good at reading someone. It was a secondary skill, he would praise. But, with Tav, it was proving to be difficult. Her face, though beautiful, was iron still. Bards were of the more boisterous in his experience. But she was still. It would require a dexterous hand to pluck her strings in the right ways to make her truly sing.
"It is a song of Eilistraee," she explained after a moment of pause," A woe of hers. From the day she was cast out from the pantheon by the Spider Queen." Her fingers nimbly resumed their work. A gently hum escaped Tav's lips, replacement for the words that should've been accompanied. Yet the music spoke for itself. It sounded sorrowful. Like a cry in notes. But there was something that picked up towards the ending bits. Something a bit more resolved. "Legend says it's what she played to comfort herself and her followers over the betrayal."
"Is that why you're playing it? For comfort?" Astarion couldn't help but ask.
Tav shrugged delicately. For as strong as he had shown to be earlier in the day, her more relaxed movements felt so dainty. "Perhaps. The Dark Maiden tends to bring comfort even in the most unsure of times. Or maybe I just like the tune." She hummed yet again, savoring the sound of that particular muffled lyric.
A swell of performance frosted beneath his skin, desperately freezing a sense of warmth prickling where his blood once flowed. Something about the tune or the atmosphere or what have you was causing a strange feeling to bubble up. Only a bit. Nothing too much that would warrant actually dwelling but still worrying all the same. Plastering on that well rehearsed smile and swaggering confidence, he desperately fled from Tav's cocoon with a flouncy," You aren't the only one, my friend. I'll be happy to have this soundtrack to lull me off for the evening." He left before she could utter another word, if she even wanted to to begin with. Her fingers never stilled from the melody while he shuffled back to his bedroll.
While he tried to drift to his mediations, Astarion's mind raced. Yes, it had to be Tav. From the next day forth, he would begin working. Three simple steps, and he would be succesful.
Seduce. Bed. Manipulate feelings.
That was all Astarion plotted to do. But little was he aware just how much that plan would turn to cinders right before his eyes.