Hold Me Like a Knife - Chapter 10: Three Little Words

“Sex is just as much about control and power as it is about pleasure,” she says simply. “Everything comes down to control and power, in fact.”

“I’d have thought everything to you comes down to murder.”

“What is murder besides the ultimate show of control?”

“Ah, an unsatisfied Halia is a very serious Halia, good to know,” he snorts, and she just groans, laying her head on her hands. “I’ll add that to the murderous and serious Halia from the other night.”

Hold Me Like a Knife - Chapter 5: Fear & Loathing

“Can spawn make dhampirs though? And do we really think Bhall won’t punish us for failing?” For once, he’s glad Petras opened his mouth, his questions actually valuable additions. Astarion extends a hand for his shoe, giving a soft nod of apology. It’s all he’ll ever offer the fool and he needs his shoe back before Godey returns.

“I intend to try,” Astarion grins, but the expression is forced, even by his standards. He’s not sure how he feels about being breeding stock, even if the woman in question is undeniably beautiful. Demeaning or not, he’s been required to do worse, and the thought of living anywhere else for a year is more than enough to tempt him.

He’ll be a terrible father, but who cares - Bhaal? He doubts it.

Hold Me Like a Knife - Chapter 4: A Spawn Amongst Spawn

“You’re awfully pretty, aren’t you?”

“If pretty is what you need, Lady Dhune, then that’s what I’ll be,” his tone somehow sounds both genuine and practiced, and when he smirks, the sight pulls a smile to her own lips. She realizes it immediately - she’ll be in trouble if she takes this one. He’s far too handsome.

She can’t be sure how old he was when turned, she’s never had the hang of guessing ages for anyone who aged differently than a human, but his face has the lines of a life well-lived. Lines from smiling, laughing, around his eyes and cheeks. It’s absurdly charming, even as his eyes lower to hers with confusion.

And then he takes a deep inhale of her, and the smirk falls, her own smile disappearing with it. His brilliant red eyes search hers before he asks, “What…what are you?”

Hold Me Like a Knife

“Vampires,” she offers, running through her mental list. “There is a moderately sized coven, or I believe it would be called such, operating in the city.”

She feels a rumble of warmth through her body - approval.

“Tell me of these creatures. Tell me what you know of them, and I will consider how such a being might serve our goals,” He signals for her to rise, finally satisfied with her genuflection. “I am interested in how a creature of such power might serve us, should you continue to fail me.”

“They are called dhampirs, my Lord…”

—

Halia was raised to be the perfect daughter, the perfect Bhaalspawn. A beautiful killer - brutality made flesh. But every Bhaalspawn must eventually provide more, continuing the terrible lineage so that their God may rise again. Now it’s her turn to provide a monstrous offspring, a worthy sacrifice.

There aren’t many monsters she’d consider laying with, even fewer within Baldur’s Gate. She needs someone beautiful and pliant, someone who might understand her. It doesn’t occur to her that another spawn might be looking for the same thing.

(a twisted, terrible love story without the tadpoles, mindflayers, and endless hiking through the sword coast)

Still cooking, despite the typo I see in this (don’t perceive it). Durge pretadpole fic that’s going to lean heavily of dark Catholic imagery so I can’t get that outta my system.