Chapter Text
The last time Astarion had climbed the steps of the fortress of Wyrms Crossing it had been to assassinate the Archduke Enver Gortash. The facade of the stone walls had changed after the tower had been nearly destroyed by the Netherbrain. Instead of older traditional Balduran architecture, the walls were made of ornate metals and rich tapestries. And instead of the glow of gold candelabras, Gortash had implemented a new electric invention that hummed in the background while illuminated.
Baldur’s Gate had changed over the years under the Black Fist’s rule. Gortash had certainly achieved his master plan of subjugating large swaths of the Sword Coast with nary a peep for opposition. While on the surface the citizens of the Gate prospered, there was a staleness to the city-folk. An uncanny docility wound around on what was once bustling streets and seedy back alleys. Taverns that would regularly be colored with people from all different corners of the realm, now only saw local patrons and an occasional passerby.
Astarion himself wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone how many years had passed since Archduke Gortash began his tyrannical reign. As the world’s only ascended vampire, time didn’t mean much to him anymore. Most things mean nothing to him- being able to achieve his heart's desire with little resistance had dulled his senses into dust. Gold, blood, and power came as easily as breathing. And although he wasn’t the biggest fish in the ocean, Astarion had carved out a sizable following of thralls that even Cazador would balk at.
There was only one thing Astarion coveted in life, and it was something that even the gods could not grant him.
Gortash stood nonchalantly behind his desk, looking at a new leaflet of The Baldur's Mouth. The scene wouldn’t be peculiar most days had not his trousers been canted down his hips while leisurely rolling to slow melody.
Below him splayed face down on top of a pile of disheveled missives and memos was a tiefling. Their tail tossed to the side, allowing passage to a sopping wet hole that dribbled release onto what would otherwise be confidential documents. Spent and exhausted, the tiefling’s eyes only fluttered open occasionally when Gortash ordained to soothe their aches with a slow angling of his cock.
The newspaper kept Gortash’s rapt attention until the sleeve below him spoke.
“Mhmnn.. Enver.. Someone’s here.”
Gortash paused his hips mid-thrust to look up at Astarion as he briskly strode down the red carpets of his office, flanked by two Steel Watch chaperones.
“Ah, Lord Ancunín. Welcome. I apologize for the mess. You've caught me at quite an embarrassing time.” Gortash smiled, his mirth reaching his eyes but the source was clearly not from the other’s presence.
Astarion looked unperturbed, completely and neutral at the sexual display before him.
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown, Gortash. I would appreciate it if you could keep your calendar more organized lest the people of the Gate think you’re losing your touch.”
Gortash tucked himself into his pants and dismissed the tiefling with a tap on their flank. He set aside the papers haphazardly before casually slumping into his chair, watching Tav and the Steel Watch to leave his office before speaking.
“You wound me, old friend.” Gortash’s smile twisted into a sneer.
“Everything I do is in service for the people. It’s harder than it looks to manage the politics of a realm while also finding the time to produce an heir.”
Astarion crosses his legs, completely unimpressed.
“So what did you call me for? We’ve been dancing around each other's territories without conflict, and I frankly don’t want to get entangled in any of your business.”
“Exactly.” Gortash responds through his teeth.
“Each of us has something the other wants, and I wanted to propose an alliance of sorts. An equal trade…”
“What could you possibly give that I couldn’t get myself?” Astarion responds like this is the most scandalous thing Gortash had done in this room.
Gortash watches Astarion move his pawn right where he wanted. Even as an Ascendant, Astarion moved so predictably.. It was almost pitiful with how the little lordling wore his undead heart on his sleeve.
“You pledge your loyalty to me.. and in turn I will.. allow you to borrow the Savior of the Gate.. From time to time.” Gortash uttered carefully.
Each word hung heavy in the air for what seemed like an eon.
“You’ve wasted my time long enough.” Astarion spat out with his teeth bared.
The vampire swung his caplet around in one fell swoop before storming out of the door, before disappearing out of sight.
Gortash sat silently for a moment with his elbows resting on the intricately carved desk before breaking out into genuine gut laughter. It wasn’t even lunchtime yet this plan was already ahead of schedule. With his gilded claws, the Archduke picked up his faceted crystalline sending stone. While he expected more of a fight, he hadn’t had this much fun in a while.
“Darling, I’m sending servants to pack your things. Lord Ancunín has so graciously invited you to stay at his villa this summer.”