Chapter Text

​1498

 “It’s quite a view,” Astarion observed.

 “It is, yes.” Imara looked out at the landscape with an assessing look on her face.

 “Oh, I didn’t mean the city, darling,” he murmured, smiling softly when her eyes darted to him and found his gaze locked on her.

 Huffing out a quiet laugh, she smiled. They gazed at one another, enjoying the moment, until, naturally, someone interrupted it. Minthara approached, clearing her throat quietly. When they looked at her, she smiled a satisfied, slightly-wicked grin.

 “Lunea. Lunea’dra. The city is yours.”

 Imara’s smile deepened and her eyes wandered back to the view, a look of immense satisfaction settling onto her beautiful face. It had been a long, arduous, dangerous three years to reach this point, but finally they’d succeeded.

 Skullport was theirs.

 Minthara stepped closer, her eyes alight. “All of the remaining factions have surrendered. The merchants and servants kept their word; every single one stood down. They barred their doors to the slaver factions, offering no aid.”

 “Just as you expected, my love,” Astarion crooned. Imara’s pride bloomed over their bond, her smile widening even more.

 “The slavers are being put to the sword and their slaves are being freed. Vorin and Riniya are overseeing and Mal is there to burn the bodies. The council, the siblings, and the department heads are scouring the city with their units to ensure we do not miss any. The mortals on their teams are being sent into any homes barred to the vampires. Syndra and Taelin will arrange for a group to guide the freed to Waterdeep as soon as they are well enough to travel.”

 “See that the freed are fed, washed, and clothed in the meantime,” Imara said.

 “Of course. It is already being done.”

 Imara turned to smile at Minthara. “Thank you. We couldn’t have done this without you.”

 Minthara glowed a bit at the praise. “You could have.”

 “Perhaps, but it would have been much more difficult and a lot less fun,” Astarion said.

 Speaking of fun, Imara sent. We haven’t invited her to join us in quite some time.

 Let’s get settled into the city before we dive back into our more hedonistic pursuits, shall we?

 Imara’s silent chuckle wafted over their bond. Who’d have thought you would someday be the responsible one?

 Miracles do happen.

 Of course they do. I found you, after all.

 Flatterer.

 “Likely.” Minthara paused, looking thoughtful. “I would prefer if you would continue to utilize your tent until I have had time to ensure that the entire castle is secured. Buildings like this almost always have secret passageways and traps.”

 “That’s fine, we can figure out which rooms will be ours and set the tent up in them.”

 “This entire floor is yours. The floor below will be assigned to Remi and Hugo.”

 “Efficient as ever, dear.” Astarion smiled at Minthara and she blushed slightly. She’d only begun to respond to him that way last year, after the first time they’d invited her to join them in bed.

 As the women fell into conversation about securing the city, Astarion’s mind wandered to that night, to the nerves that had fluttered in his stomach and the old memories that had tried to overtake him. But he’d refused to let his past take from him an experience he’d chosen, something he wanted for himself, and with Imara’s quiet, gentle support through their bond, he had managed to stay present. Soon, he’d forgotten the past entirely and had lost himself in the moment, relishing in every touch and kiss.

 A brief vision of even later that night, when he’d been kneeling in Minthara’s bed, leaning back against the headboard, watching as Minthara laid on her back and wrapped her lips around his balls, then as Imara laid on top of the drow, sinking her fingers between Minthara’s legs as she slowly slid her lips down his cock.

 The sight of the two women pleasuring each other as their mouths pleasured him in tandem had overwhelmed him. He’d come far too quickly, his cheeks and ears flushing with embarrassment, but neither had minded. Imara had shared the taste of his seed with Minthara, their passionate kiss and the sight of the drow coming apart under his beloved’s careful ministrations arousing him anew, at which point they’d returned their mouths to him and done it all over again.

 And again. And again.

 He hadn’t been ready to actually fuck Minthara, but Minthara had not seemed to mind and they’d all been well and truly satisfied by the end of the night. They’d only invited her to join them a few times since then, but each time had been more and more delightful than the last.

 Are you sure you want to wait? I can feel how aroused you are by the memory, Imara teased gently.

  Letting her feel his amusement, he said, I am. And, if I’m being honest, I would prefer to invite Vorin again first.

 Another soft, silent chuckle. He certainly won’t mind. I know he misses us. Mainly you and your… discipline.

 They’d invited Vorin to join them a month or two after their experiment with Minthara had gone so well. That had been… an educational evening for Astarion, to say the least. Though they’d discussed in advance what that night could and would entail, it hadn’t mattered. The moment he’d seen Vorin towering above Imara, being led into the bedroom they’d rented for the evening, he had begun to hyperventilate. Memories had tried to swamp him, even more powerfully than on their night with the drow. Imara had done her best to help him find calm, but his mind had taken him in an iron grip in a way it had not done since the days of their tadpole adventure.

 He’d stood, memory after disgusting memory flooding him, vaguely wondering how he, who had been subjected to those horrors, could think to find enjoyment in subjecting another person to them. A person he liked; cared for even. Someone who was important to him, to Imara.

 Shame had slithered into his gut, souring his stomach. He’d been moments from calling the whole thing off when Vorin had turned to him, and, with excitement in his eyes, began to unbutton his shirt.

 Astarion had stood, transfixed, watching Vorin slowly undress without taking his eyes off of Astarion, the scent of the tiefling’s arousal beginning to perfume the air. When Vorin had stepped out of his trousers, he’d been fully erect and had sunk to his knees remarkably gracefully for someone his size. He’d stared at Astarion from across the room, need shining in his eyes as he whispered, “My lord. I am yours.”

 In that moment, Astarion’s mind had gone completely, utterly blank. The stress, the fear, the anxiety, it had all drained away as if it had never been. In the sudden silence inside his mind, he’d remembered that he wanted this. That Vorin and Imara wanted it. That he was not doing to Vorin what had been done to him, because it would be done with care, and with consent.

 His eyes had landed on Imara, sitting at the edge of the bed, looking concerned for him. “Collar him,” he’d ordered her as the comforting blanket of command had settled over him, stronger and more complete than ever before.

 As with Minthara, Astarion hadn’t been ready for everything Vorin wanted. That first night, he’d made Vorin kneel next to the bed the entire evening. He’d commanded the tiefling to watch, then had taken Imara to bed and made sweet, sensual love to her until they were sweat-soaked and sated, occasionally tugging at the leash attached to Vorin’s collar, just to taunt him—exactly as Vorin had requested.

 Imara had been so sated she’d been rather over-stimulated, and when Astarion commanded Vorin to pleasure her with his mouth, he’d expected Vorin to fail. But as Astarion leaned against the headboard with Imara lying against him, her burning-hot back against his chest and her legs spread wide for the tiefling, he’d realized he’d underestimated Vorin.

 The enormous man had slid into the bed, wrapped his hands around Imara’s hips, and dragged his tongue through her folds—which were covered in Astarion’s spend—writhing his tongue in a way that indicated skill. He’d groaned, then set to pleasuring her like his life depended on it. It had been incredibly erotic to watch, and Astarion’s hands had begun to wander Imara’s body of their own volition, lost in the sight and the sensations she was sharing over their bond.

 By the time Imara had been able to come again, the tiefling had come twice, grinding into the sheets, and Astarion joined his beloved, his spend coating her lower back as she writhed and moaned under their touches.

 Things had progressed quite a bit since then; they’d invited Vorin to join them several times. It had been awhile, though, with the battle looming before them. Now that it was done, perhaps Imara was right. They didn’t have to wait if they didn’t wish to. He had several ideas to try out on that tiefling…

 So let’s invite him, then.

 We will soon. I do want to settle in at least a bit first, though. It has been an exhausting month already and the next tenday or so will no doubt be even more so.

 Alright, love.

 “I will have Vorin send the spies into the field to seek out the locations of the remaining members of Xanathar, Mandible and the Reforged Ring,” Minthara told them, though she’d no doubt realized by now that Astarion had not been listening for several minutes. “We estimate there are up to one hundred who were not in the city today. As far as we can tell, the Riverborn have been eliminated, but even if some escaped, they were too disorganized to truly be a problem after today. The escapees will likely seek out somewhere less dangerous to relocate to rather than return here.”

 “Hopefully we’ll have the passages secured before they could even try.”

 “Hopefully. We will secure the entrances from both Undermountain and Waterdeep, of course, but the port…”

 Imara nodded. “Have Remi set up another meeting with the mages. I’m tired of their flip-flopping. If they won’t agree to terms this time, well…” She sighed.

 “If they are foolish enough to throw their lives away over a binding oath, one which only requires them not to betray the colony, then that is their choice. There are other mages out there who will gladly take their place in controlling the portals for the ships to reach the sea.”

 Again Imara nodded, though she now looked resigned. As much as she enjoyed killing, she hated when people let their own stupidity cause it to become necessary. “When you send Remi… Make sure she doesn’t go alone.”

 “Of course not, Lunea. She will have a full, armed escort.”

 “Thank you. For everything.” Imara took Minthara’s hand, squeezing lightly. “Having you with us is such a comfort to me.”

 Minthara flushed prettily again, smiling a sweet, gentle smile that not so long ago he’d have thought was in complete opposition to her personality. Now, though, he knew Minthara was quite soft inside.

 He remembered when he’d questioned her about it, shortly after they’d decided to take Skullport. It had been after a lengthy planning session, when Imara was frustrated in the extreme and exhausted along with it.

 Minthara tucked a curl behind Imara’s ear, murmuring quietly to her until Imara’s eyes lost their frantic edge and her shoulders relaxed somewhat.

 Curious, Astarion waited until Imara wandered off, then sidled up to the drow. “For someone so obsessed with strength and power, you are extremely soft on the inside,” he observed.

 “Loving another is not soft, vampire. It is one of the hardest things a person can do.” Minthara eyed him thoughtfully. “Do you not find it so?”

 Flabbergasted, Astarion opened and closed his mouth two or three times before managing to reply, “I have found it so.”

 “You are surprised, but you should not be. There is strength in loving another. There is power there, too. Over the years, I have come to appreciate them as much as I do the more traditional forms. I find I long less and less for a throne, to see the light go out of my mother’s eyes, to dominate and conquer nations. Now, I long for meaning. For belonging.” Her eyes crinkled slightly, a sly look on her face. “Now, I long only for enough strength and power to protect that which is most precious.”

 Like Minthara, he too had come to only long for the power and strength to protect Imara. With Jergal’s gifts, they’d come a long way toward that goal. Once they’d fully secured Skullport, they’d be nearly there.

 “I will see to all that is needful. You two should acquaint yourselves with your new home. We will meet on the morrow to discuss next steps.”

 “Make sure you rest, too.”

 “We can’t have our favorite lieutenant collapsing from exhaustion mere days into the occupation of our new territory,” Astarion teased.

 Minthara scoffed. “I will rest when I must. Good night.”

 “Good night.”

 As Minthara left, Astarion stepped closer to his beloved, enfolding her in his arms. He kissed her forehead, smiling down at her.

 “You have your own fiefdom now, my love. I can’t wait to see what you will do with it.”

 Imara snorted, tightening her arms around him. “Hopefully I will turn it into a refuge… a safe haven for those who have been enslaved, and a bustling center of commerce, as well.”

 “Of course you will, darling, your plans will not fail.”

 “Our plans,” she corrected. “You came up with nearly half of them yourself.”

 Warmth bloomed in his belly. She was right. He’d had as much a hand in this as she had, had worked with her every step of the way, contributing many ideas that had borne fruit over the years, culminating in their success today.

 He rested his chin on her head, gazing out at the city. “Yes. Our plans.”

 The view from their balcony was excellent; they could see nearly the entire city. It was a mish-mash of buildings on varying levels of the cavern. The cavern itself was by far the largest they’d been in since venturing into the Underdark. The ceiling was several hundred feet high and covered with glowing fungi which the locals called the gloam.

 The port was massive, as was the Sargauth river it was built upon. This portion of the river was manmade, its water replenished from underground, and thus safe for the spawn. There was more than enough room for all of them, as well as the merchants and service-folk who lived there already, and for however many lost souls Imara would inevitably find and bring under her wing through the years to come. There was enough room to expand, should they ever need to, but he doubted it would be necessary for at least a century.

 Their castle was a fortress located on an island south of the mainland, connected by one large stone bridge that spanned the river between them. The fortress had, apparently, housed various slaver factions and their prisons. They’d all been surprised that the vampires had been able to simply walk into the castle, at least until they’d discovered that Xanathar, who ran the place, was an ancient beholder.

 They’d defeated him and his forces, wandering the grounds to investigate their new property. The moment they’d realized what each of the outbuildings were for, Imara had ordered them emptied then torn down.

 Already the School of Obedience, where slaves had been violently ‘re-educated’ in how to serve appropriately, was empty of victims. The Halls of the Iron Ring, who had controlled the island, were likewise empty. Soon, there would be no Tower of the Seven Woes, no holding pens, no Halls, no false School. There would be only their home and office, the homes and offices of the council, the department heads’ offices, and the base of operations for running the city.

 The magical, psychotic flying skulls that policed Skullport would need to be dealt with quickly. Imara certainly wouldn’t stand for a magical police force that believed in enslaving citizens for minor infractions. Dealing with them would be tricky—it was believed that the magic of the skulls was tied to the magic that prevented the cavern from collapsing, but no one was sure.

 “Are you pleased with our new territory?” Imara asked.

 “Of course I am, darling. Even with so little light, even though the buildings are dilapidated and the streets are dirty, I am pleased with it. It is ours now, and in time, we will make of it a jewel.”

 “You think so?”

 “I know so. Once we have it fully under our control, once we’ve cleared and secured the rest of Undermountain, we will begin to refurbish and expand the city. We will be incredibly powerful. Just as I always dreamed.”

 “So these past three years were worth it? All the stress and strife and fights and sleepless nights…”

 Astarion squeezed her to him, nuzzling her hair. “Every moment since I met you on that beach has been worth it, Imara, but yes. All the time we spent making this happen was worth it. To be standing now in a castle of our very own, looking out on a city we now rule, atop a mountain of mithral and precious resources… Of course it was worth it.”

 “I’m glad. I worried, often, that it wouldn’t feel worth it when we finally reached this point. After everything we went through, I was worried it wouldn’t feel satisfying. But it does.”

 “Yes. It does.”

 Imara was not wrong. As hard as their first three years together had been, the next three had been even more so—in very different, unexpected ways.

❇︎❇︎❇︎

​1495

 “A subtle approach will be needed at first,” Nieven mused.

 Imara nodded. “I agree. We will need to install spies in Waterdeep and in Skullport itself if we can manage it. If we can convince the merchants and any of the other factions who aren’t, well, evil, to stand down—”

 “Stand down? Not join with us?” Riniya interjected.

 “We wouldn’t succeed if we tried to convince them to fight. They aren’t fighters; why would they want to risk their lives to help us usurp their city? They hate the Xanathar as much as anyone else, but they’re afraid. It’s their home,” Astarion said.

 Imara nodded, pride shining in her eyes. “Exactly. Better to only ask them to stay home, bar their doors, and do nothing to hinder us. If we succeed, it’s wonderful news for them; we aren’t going to charge them for protection from ourselves like the Xanathar do. If we lose, then they’ve lost nothing, done nothing that will endanger them.”

 Riniya nodded and the council set to arranging for setting up the spy network.

 In their first few tendays of planning, Imara had managed to gather a decent amount of information about Skullport through Gale and his resources in Waterdeep. They’d learned Skullport was ruled by a thuggish gang of thieves and slavers called the Xanathar, led by a man named Xanathar, and that they were allied with several other vile gangs who made their bases of operation in the city. The Reforged Ring, Mandible, the Riverborn, the Iron Ring… there were probably others they hadn’t even learned about yet. The Xanathar ruled with an iron fist, charging merchants and unaffiliated residents a fee every tenday in order to avoid being beaten and harassed by the gangs.

 When Imara had learned about the ‘protection’ money, she’d suddenly changed her mind about imprisoning the faction members for trial. Now the gangs would all be put to death the moment they had control of the city. It was a much better approach, in his opinion.

 They’d obtained much more detailed maps, and had begun the process of formulating a plan of attack. Though, sadly, there would be very little attacking until the very end. Imara’s subtle approach was the wiser course and all but guaranteed to succeed, but he’d much rather have gone in immediately, with swords bared.

 “We should have the spies reach out to the family members of those who’ve been kidnapped from Waterdeep,” Astarion mused. “They will no doubt offer any aid they can, in the hopes of having their loved ones returned to them.”

 Again Imara’s pride reached him, this time through their bond. She smiled widely at him, but before she could respond, Brecaryn did.

 “That’s an excellent idea. They will know the city far better than we do. Even if they can’t offer any material aid, they’re likely to have knowledge we will need.”

 “I agree,” Vorin said. “We can also check for bounties on any members of the slaver factions. We could send out small groups of the spawn to hunt them. We’d be thinning their numbers and filling our coffers at the same time.”

 “It is said that teleportation into or out of Skullport is impossible,” Minthara chimed in, “but there is no such rumor regarding the rest of Undermountain. We could capture beasts here in the Underdark and teleport them into the areas of Undermountain closest to Skullport. It would not be enough to fell the city, but it would be enough of a nuisance to split their attention.”

 “It would also prevent them from using several of the passageways as a means of escape,” Taelin added.

 “Whatever we send would be challenging for mere mortals,” Riniya muttered thoughtfully, “but not so for a legion of vampires. We would be able to reclaim those areas without trouble.”

 “A propaganda campaign wouldn’t go amiss, either,” Syndra said with a sly smile. “We could have the spies begin spreading rumors in Waterdeep, particularly through the pleasure-houses frequented by the rich and the pubs in the poorer districts. The rumors would call more attention to the goings-on in Skullport and the slave trade, as well as the complete lack of action by the Waterdhavian government. With enough public outrage, their government would need to begin making it more difficult for the slavers to operate so freely within Waterdeep. That would ensure more of them spend more time in Skullport and less lurking about Waterdeep.”

 “Which would mean more of them condensed into the enclosed space we will have trapped them in when we come to take it,” Nieven said with obvious appreciation.

 “We should find a way to start harrying their ships before they reach the portals and get brought into the cavern,” Imara murmured, staring down at the map in front of them. “If we can make it more difficult and more expensive for them to move their goods via ship, that will slow them down significantly.”

 “We can destroy some, but if we wish for them to be unaware they are about to be overtaken, then we cannot destroy them all.” Astarion stared down at the map as well, unsure how best to thwart shipments without destroying them.

 “If we can find out which shipments don’t carry slaves, we could plague the ships.” Brecaryn sounded positively gleeful at the idea, which Astarion found surprising. She was usually so sweet and kind.

 Taelin nodded. “That would work. None of the ports would let them dock if the crew are carrying the pox or anything like it.”

 “And it would continue to thin their numbers.” Riniya had begun to look rather pleased—this conflict would not be as bloodless as originally expected, which no doubt pleased her as much as it did Astarion.

 “If we do it slowly enough, all of these methods together would ensure they are in a significantly weakened state when we strike,” Imara said.

 “It will take years,” Minthara told Imara. “At least two, more likely three. Possibly more, if any of the plans encounter significant difficulties.”

 Vorin chuckled. “Well, let’s get planning so we can ensure that the inevitable difficulties don’t throw the game off entirely.”

❇︎❇︎❇︎

​And plan they had. They’d planned every detail they could account for, every possibility they could think of. Money had been moved from Baldur’s Gate to Waterdeep, slowly enough to avoid raising any eyebrows. Their spies’ training had been increased so it was all they did each day. Combat training had been increased, as had medical training. All construction that was not direly necessary had been halted in the colony. The council met daily, for several hours a day. It had taken them months just to finish planning to everyone’s satisfaction in order to even begin taking action.

 Once they had, the truly difficult part had begun.

 The waiting.

 Their plans in place, they’d suddenly been at loose ends. The colony still needed attention, of course. Meetings still had to be held, social events needed to be attended. But with no further expansion in the works, with the spawn being trained for most of their waking hours, and with the council finally a united team… there’d been quite little to do, compared to their first years in the Underdark.

 It had left more time for Imara and Mal and Astarion to travel, but those travel plans had invariably needed to be primarily for the plan. They took what bounties and contracts they could under the colony’s banner, but often they were rushing around, collecting supplies or negotiating trade deals. Over time, traveling ceased to feel fun, and instead began to feel like work.

 Strangely, though leading the colony became more time consuming and burdensome, they’d struggled less with it. Once their plans were in place, they’d each settled into their roles much more comfortably, until they rarely felt the frenzied urge to run away.

 Though challenges had abounded, their relationship had not suffered overmuch as it would have done in years prior, which was a wonderful thing, but that did not mean that times were easy. Sleepless nights were common, as were meetings that took an entire day to resolve. As things became more and more stressful with their leadership, bickering became more common between them, but it was never cruel or bitter.

 In fact, Astarion rather liked the bickering. It, like walking back to their tent at the end of the day or seeing their things cluttered about their space, felt strangely domestic to him. It eventually became more of a game between them, a way to lighten the mood, until these days it was simply another way they showed their love for one another.

 It also helped that the bickering usually led to vigorous, passionate sex.

 Still, he hoped that once things settled down somewhat with their new city, the bickering would become a rare occurrence once more. As fun as it was, he enjoyed their more silly banter much more, and it had become much less frequent these past years. They’d simply been too stressed, too focused, and yet too bored at the same time.

 They’d filled their time together and they always had fun, but neither of them were people who enjoyed remaining idle overlong, particularly with so much up in the air with regards to their future. They each yearned to be in action, to be doing, to be furthering their plans. Playing card games in their tent was simply not enough for them when they each longed to be out there, killing or manipulating to ensure their success.

 “What are you thinking about?” Imara asked quietly.

 “About these years of planning and executing your vision. How strangely difficult it was to be simply bored so much of the time, and how much I am looking forward to finding some semblance of normalcy with you in this new life.”

 Imara huffed a laugh. “It does seem like we start a new life together every few years at this point.”

 “Hopefully this will be the last time for a long time.”

 “Tired of starting over with me?”

 “No, darling, never. I am tired of needing to redecorate,” he said primly, which earned him a hearty laugh, as he’d hoped.

 “The castle does lack in aesthetic appeal.”

 “I admit I found it odd how shabby and sparse everything was until we reached the room where we found Xanathar. Beholders are not known for their decorative skill to begin with, and he was a particularly insane, nasty specimen.”

 “I feel like we need to bring the magic-users in to cleanse the entire castle floor to ceiling. This place is… gross, but it has potential.”

 “Indeed it does. Once things are somewhat settled here, we will venture into Waterdeep and go shopping. We will furnish our castle as befits our station.”

 “Fancy and expensive everything, then?” Imara giggled.

 “Of course. I would like our companions to visit eventually and they certainly cannot see it as it is presently.”

 “Gale will make his way down here long before we’re finished renovating. We won’t be able to stop him; he’s so excited to have us close again.”

 Astarion groaned, releasing Imara to lean against the battlement, affecting abject misery. “We must stop him popping in on a whim or else he’ll be interrupting my attempts to seduce you as often as your accursed fey does.” He flung his head back, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “I shall never have my cock sucked again!”

 Imara laughed again, her eyes sparkling at him. “You can have it sucked right now if you like, before Gale figures out how to teleport in. A last hurrah.”

 Snorting, he glared at her, though he could feel his eyes twinkling as much as hers were. “Here? Where anyone could see us?”

 “I’d think that would be a bonus for you at this point, not a detractor.”

 “Well,” he huffed prissily, “perhaps in other circumstances, but not here, where our subjects could see. We must maintain an air of mystique, if we are to rule effectively, after all.”

 Rolling her eyes, Imara grinned, stepping closer to him. She grabbed his hips, tugging gently until he was pressed against her. “I like that it no longer bothers you to think about these kinds of things. That you know you can do them and that your mind won’t torture you for it.”

 “Well, probably not, anyway.”

 It had been nearly a year since he’d had an episode of any significance. Even longer since he’d had any loathsome thoughts of any weight. He still had minor thoughts, minor episodes, but they were so mild now they were hardly noticeable. A mere inconvenience, easily ignored, easily tucked away again.

 Their relative boredom had given him plenty of time to work through the lingering vestiges of his past, and though he knew he would likely never be fully free from it, he’d been doing much better at managing it. At living around it, as he’d always hoped he could.

 It helped that their frequent boredom had meant safety, as well. Imara had not died since Jergal bestowed his gifts, which Astarion was immensely glad of. He knew it would come, eventually, but hoped to delay it as long as possible. Even believing—tentatively—she would be returned to him did not lessen his terror at the idea of once again seeing her look as she’d looked that day.

 They stared adoringly at one another for a minute or two, basking in the warmth of their love and the day’s successes. Eventually, Astarion tugged at one of her curls, smiling affectionately. “Congratulations, my love. Three years of diligent planning, slogging through the tedium and the worry and the pressure, and in the end you have succeeded brilliantly. Skullport is ours, exactly as you wished. I am so proud of all you have achieved.”

 Her happiness hit him along the bond, hot and sweet like her blood, but in the next moment her eyes became serious once more. “I just wish we hadn’t lost so many. We left the palace with just over four thousand spawn in our care, and now we have barely more than three and a half.”

 “Darling, we left the palace six years ago, and in that time we have traversed hundreds of miles of the Underdark, settled there, then invaded a city filled with mercenaries and taken it for ourselves. We have lost remarkably few, considering all we have gone through since we freed them.”

 “You’re right, I know you’re right. I just don’t like to think about it.”

 “Well then do not think about it, my love. There is more than enough that requires your clever brain’s attention that you could be focusing on instead.”

 Snorting softly, she nodded. “True. We will need to work on securing the rest of Undermountain as quickly as possible. I don’t want to leave time for anyone else to try to seize it now that Skullport isn’t filled with thugs.”

 “Then as soon as we are settled in we will begin working on that. There must be someone who’s explored at least some of it in recent years. I’ll ask Minthara to try to find us a guide.”

 “Thank you, love, that’s helpful.”

 “I will also have Eilthana task the intelligence unit with renewing their focus on finding us slavers and vampires in this region, the moment they are set up… wherever they end up being set up.”

 With a low, barely-audible moan, Imara nipped at his neck, dragging her tongue over the scars that now only ever made him think of her. “I already said I’d suck your cock tonight, honey, you don’t have to keep trying to arouse me.”

 Astarion laughed, taking her ass in a bruising grip to tug her even tighter against him, letting her feel his growing arousal.

 “Set up the tent, darling. Let’s celebrate.”