Chapter Text
Another function, hosting Baldur’s Gate's high society. The Szarr palace was lit and almost welcoming yet untouchable to the unworthy, overlooking the city from its place on the hills of the Gate.
Cazador was quite pleased with the turn out tonight. Patriars with their entourages filed in steadily to see the reclusive lord as he sat upon his throne in the mansion ballroom. He was not blind to his reputation but that didn't stop certain circles of nobles still striving for his favor.
Cattle. All of them. Their only use was to please him, and once he finally completed the ritual they would be kneeling before him. But that was still months away, yet he could taste the power on his tongue, sweeter than any blood he so often indulged in. For now he would still entertain the cattle with his hedonistic activities, they still had their few uses for now.
Certain rooms were closed off, access only allowed for a select few that had Cazador’s favor. Some set aside for drug use, quiet, misty and full of delirium. Others were set aside for other pleasures, a place for patriars to indulge in sex without judgment, private sessions and orgies alike.
The spawn, all seven were dressed in elegance but still recognizable as nothing more than entertainment. Cazador kept his eye on each one as they rounded their way through the guests. They were required to do whatever was requested of them, to those patriars who knew how to make use of them.
Astarion was moping in a corner again, hoping he wouldn't get the attention of anyone so early in the night. Dalyria was gathering the attention of married older patriars as she so often did. And the others were pacing through still trying to keep up with demands, to not bring attention to themselves from Cazador’s blazing glare.
But just as Cazador was going to push Astarion with compulsion a bit to get him moving, something seemed to catch the white haired elf's attention. His nostrils flared ever so slightly over his wine goblet and his eyes shut for a half second too long before he began to emerge from his shaded corner. He was following something, a scent of some kind. This intrigued Cazador, Astarion rarely sought people out himself these days, usually opting for whoever showed interest in him first.
Astarion glided across the ballroom floor with his infuriatingly perfect elegance he had learned from two centuries of practice. He passed by the elaborately dressed and groomed patriars in favor of a seemingly unassuming female elf, her dress was plain in comparison to everyone else. She was being showcased by an elderly patriar, who was seemingly gushing about something she was related to, his arm wrapped around her shoulders proudly showing her off. Her back was turned to Cazador so he couldn't see what all the fuss was about until he recognized the elderly human. He hardly ever attended noble gatherings of any sort.
Once the elder's showcase was over for that moment Astarion took the opportunity to vive for her attention. Once she turned around to face Astarion, Cazador could finally see her face. His gut twisted with desire as he picked apart her features. Almost too large innocent looking eyes, with a small nose and pair of lips that screamed youthful innocence. Her body was a fully mature hour glass shape but her face was ageless and young. White hair that cascaded down her back and shoulders like thousands of strands of spider silk, and her skin was almost as pale as Astarion’s with eyes the color of lilac flowers.
Cazador hardly felt himself stand and begin walking toward the elven pair. He couldn't let a mere spawn have this newcomer, much less Astarion out of all of them. She was deliciously shy as she curtsied to Astarion, introducing herself, but Cazador knew the best way to get her all to himself was through her chaperone, the elderly human.
“Lord Wyllyck Caldwell? It is a… rare honor to see you attending one of my functions.” Cazador started as he came upon the gentleman.
“Aah lord Szarr! Yes, but I had to make an exception for my latest rising star.” Lord Caldwell dragged her shoulders to face Cazador away from Astarion almost rudely but she seemed used to it. “This is Ariawyn, my current and most talented artist. She has just finished a most stunning portrait of my wife and I and I just couldn't help bringing her here to show off her incredulous talent. And perhaps a few commissions from my fellow patriars if they are in the market for a new gorgeous portrait. She already has a few pieces hanging in my museums and galleries!” He bragged proudly.
“An honor to meet you lord Szarr.” She curtsied politely, but her expression was ever so slightly different then when she was speaking with Astarion.
Her eyes were flatter, more focused rather than innocent and shy. Cazador could see the tiny movements of her eyes as she subtly scrutinized him. He waved Astarion off with a slight movement that was met with a nearly inaudible annoyed huff from the boy. Irritation and disappointment was hidden beneath that perfectly sculpted mask of his earning him the slightest glance from the lord making him pathetically scamper off to find other prey.
Then her scent hit Cazador like passing by a floral shop in the city. Her blood smelled incredibly decadent and unique, unlike anything he had ever smelled before. It was little wonder Astarion had found her by scent alone, but where the boy only hoped to taste her skin Cazador had to fight the rising desire to drain her dry in that very moment.
“An artist you say, well I just so happen to be looking for just such a talent.” Cazador lied through his fangs as easily as he drew breath.
“Indeed lord Szarr? Well as far as talent and professionalism goes Ariawyn is the best in the city as of late. I'd dare say even better than our former artist with that humiliating scandal of his.” The old man sneered slightly at the memory.
“My lord I do hate to inconvenience you showcasing my portfolio but might I visit the powder room for a moment?” Ariawyn asked with her large eyes on Lord Caldwell.
“Yes of course dear, but don't be too long.” He accepted and let his arm down from her shoulders.
“Thank you my lord. Please do excuse me, Lord Szarr.” She bowed and took her leave.
Ariawyn all but sprinted to a hallway, she assumed the powder room was located but it didn't really matter. She leaned on a wall as soon as she was out of sight, grateful to get away from Lord Szarr's violating scarlet stare.
She hated this, but it was necessary for her work. She hated being the center of attention, she was far more comfortable behind the canvas, behind the stage so to speak.
“There you are, I brought you some refreshment. Though if I had known it was this bad I'd have made an effort to get it for you sooner.” A smooth familiar voice sounded behind her.
“Oh! Hello. I'm quite alright thank you.” She quickly gathered herself trying her best to keep her mask of professionalism and perfection.
“Take the wine darling, you don't have to put on a face to impress me.” Astarion handed her a crystal goblet of red sweet smelling wine.
She let her face relax ever so slightly as she took a sip then her eyes flashed to his.
“I much preferred your company over his…” She whispered as if by accident.
“You aren't a patriar are you?” He asked with a sly knowing smile.
“No. I'm just an artist that caught the attention of the gallery owner. I understand it's necessary to parade me around like a new broach on his wife's bosom but it doesn't make it any more comfortable when I'm being stripped bare by every lord's eyes.” She sighed and took a bigger drink of her wine. “At least you pretended to be interested in something other than the curve of my hips and the depth of my cleavage.”
“Indeed my interests lie elsewhere.” He shrugged but didn't elaborate further as he sipped from his own wine.
“But… I chose this. It's part of the job. I can handle a brief moment of discomfort if it means I have commissions coming in, then I can carry on to the part I actually enjoy.” Ariawyn smirked to herself ever so slightly.
She took a deep breath before downing the rest of her wine.
“I thank you for the kind gesture and lending an ear to my prattle. However I must be getting back to the snake pit. My chaperone will be missing his broach.” She bowed to Astarion before sitting the goblet on a small table and walking out to said snake pit disguised as a formal event.
Astarion watched as she rounded the corner, she glanced at him one last time before disappearing behind it. A kindred spirit. He only hoped she survived and left this palace as soon as possible to get away from the master.
“Ariawyn, there you are. How fortunate of you, lord Szarr here has just requested a portrait from you. Your name will be out in noble circles in no time at all, my rising star.” Lord Caldwell gushed in his old shaky voice and a wrinkled smile.
“Oh my! It will be such an honor to paint the handsome lord Szarr.” Ariawyn feigned surprise as she put a hand to her mouth.
Bleh!
She scowled inwardly at herself, hating every word spouting from her own mouth.
“Excellent, come by tomorrow around sunset, I prefer the evening light for my portrait.” Cazador said in a final business-like tone.
“Of course lord Szarr, I will not disappoint.” She bowed gracefully.
Great… more time with THAT. It's just one portrait. Just. One. Portrait.