Prototype's Gate

Astarion took a breath, steadying himself as he crossed the bustling floor, the dim glow of the lanterns casting warm shadows around the room. He could feel Gale’s watchful gaze on him, his quiet encouragement lingering in his thoughts. This felt reckless, a strange departure from his well-worn armor of aloof charm, but something in him wanted to try, to step closer to that elusive warmth Alex seemed to carry so effortlessly tonight.

Alex was still chuckling with Shadowheart, their movements easy and relaxed, as Astarion reached him. He cleared his throat to catch Alex's attention.

“Ah, Astarion!” Alex greeted him warmly, his eyes bright. “Enjoying yourself?”

Astarion gave a small smirk, regaining some of his usual swagger. “Well, I would be, if I weren’t so terribly left out.” He gestured to the space around them, a twinkle of playfulness in his eyes. “Seems everyone’s taking their turn on the dance floor… except me.”

Alex chuckled, his gaze understanding but holding a hint of curiosity. “Are you looking for a partner, then?”

Astarion shrugged, trying to keep his tone light. “I thought… well, perhaps if you had a free moment, I might steal you for a dance?”

There was a brief, quiet pause as Alex took in Astarion’s words.

Shadowheart stepped away a small smile on her face ."I could use a break ." She said as she walked to Gale.

Alex turned to Astarion, offering him a calm, reassuring smile as he extended his hand. It was a simple gesture, but one that seemed to hold so much. Astarion took it, though his movements were a touch hesitant, uncharacteristically unsure. For so long, he’d relied on charm, a smirk, a flash of fangs to get him what he needed—but this, this felt different. There was a purity to it, a quiet moment carved from chaos, one that asked nothing of him but to simply be present.

The music wove softly around them, guiding their steps as Alex moved in close, his hand steady at Astarion’s shoulder. The steady weight of Alex’s hand grounded him, and he found himself breathing more easily, more deeply, as they fell into the rhythm of the music. It wasn’t a performance, wasn’t about allure or manipulation. For the first time in centuries, Astarion didn’t feel like he had to play a part. He felt… seen. Not for his beauty, his vampiric allure, but for something more. And that realization hit him with unexpected force.

Astarion’s voice was soft, almost lost in the strains of music, as he spoke, eyes never quite meeting Alex’s. “It’s strange, isn’t it? After all we’ve faced together, this feels more out of place than anything. I’ve spent two hundred years using my body, my charm, my… everything, for him. It never mattered what I wanted. What I felt… was irrelevant. And now—” He faltered, swallowing hard, and continued in a whisper, “You’ve shown me that I can be more than that. That I don’t have to be a tool, a… thing, to be used.”

Alex’s expression softened, a gentle smile tugging at his lips as he looked at Astarion, no judgment, just understanding. “I think you’d be surprised,” he replied, his voice kind and steady, “by how much more you’ve always been, Astarion. You deserve the freedom to define that, to live it.”

The words settled over Astarion like a warmth he hadn’t realized he was missing, a comfort so alien to him that he almost laughed at the absurdity of it. He’d spent his life running from vulnerability, but here he was, standing in the arms of someone who made him feel safe enough to simply be. To hear that he was deserving of kindness, of freedom—it was almost too much, and he felt a tightness in his chest he hadn’t known was there.

He looked down, hiding the flicker of emotion that threatened to show. “I wasn’t planning on it, you know… feeling anything. In truth, I planned to seduce you, to use you if I had to.” His voice wavered, softened. “But… imagine my shock when I found myself wanting something real instead.” He gave a bitter laugh, his eyes shadowed with guilt and confusion. “To think I would ever fall for someone like this—someone who treats me like a person.”

Alex was silent for a moment, his gaze steady, never flinching. He took a breath, then, his hand stilling their movement as he met Astarion’s gaze with a gentle resolve. “Maybe what you need is someone who sees you, Astarion—a friend, not a lover. Someone who’ll stand by you, no matter how many layers you shed or how many ghosts you let go.”

And with that, Alex resumed their slow steps, holding Astarion with a calm and acceptance. Astarion’s voice was a murmur, as he clung to the steadying presence beside him. “I think… I’d like that, Alex,” he whispered, voice thick with emotions too raw to name. “In all my years, I’ve had lovers beyond counting. But a friend?” He looked at Alex, something softer and rawer in his gaze, something freed. “Not a single one.”

Alex grinned, his tone playful. “Glad I could be of service, Astarion."

The song came to a close, and they parted with a friendly nod, Alex’s gaze warm and encouraging. As Astarion turned back toward the others, he felt a new lightness. For the first time in ages, he could feel the quiet strength that comes from simply being seen—by a friend who understood and accepted him just as he was.

_________________

The party raged on into the early morning, filling the village square with laughter, song, and the hum of shared warmth. Fires flickered under the rising dawn, and friends—new and old—swapped tales and shared in a rare peace.

At one point, Jarek, the village’s old gnome whose leg Alex had mended, tottered over to him with a wide grin and a mischievous glint in his eye. “Come, lad! Time to try my home-brewed firewater!” he announced, brandishing a bottle that glistened with amber liquid.

With a sly grin, Alex carefully unstoppered the potent vial he kept tucked in his vest, letting just a few precious drops fall into the bottle Jarek held with such pride. Alex tilted the bottle slowly, swirling the liquid to mix thoroughly, before pouring the concoction into two mismatched wooden cups. The scent wafted up as he did so—an intoxicating blend of spice and fire that had a warmth even before tasting it. The gnome’s eyes followed Alex’s every move with a mix of reverence and childlike anticipation.

Jarek raised the cup to his nose, took a deep sniff, and nearly reeled back, his eyes widening as the fumes hit him. His face flushed a deep red, and a wheezy laugh bubbled out of him, surprise and delight mingling in the sound. “By the gods!” he cried, voice wavering with emotion, “I’ve never smelled anything like this! If I had a daughter, I’d make you my son-in-law on the spot!” He clutched his cup to his chest, looking up at Alex with tear-bright eyes.

Gulci , his wife looked at him with sadness and a little bit of anger.

For a moment, Jarek voice softened, the joy giving way to something far more vulnerable. “But instead…” he murmured, his voice breaking, “instead, I had a son. A good lad, full of dreams, but he… he left. Left all this behind, left us behind.” Jarek’s hand tightened around the cup as if he could hold onto something he’d already lost. He chuckled softly, but there was a pang of sorrow in the sound.

He broke into a rambling story, his voice turning wistful as he recounted tales of his son’s departure—how he’d dreamed of adventure but never returned, how he’d left the village a little emptier. But as he spoke, he clung to Alex’s shoulder, a sense of comfort warming his worn features as if Alex, in some strange way, was the family he’d yearned to keep close.

The morning light crept into the village as the fire began to dwindle and the festivities quieted. Alex felt the first heaviness of fatigue set in, but it was a peaceful exhaustion, the kind that settled in after a night filled with shared stories and earnest hearts. The party disbanded, and everyone drifted off to rest, carrying with them memories of a night that felt like a dream they could tuck away in the daylight hours.

Orssa made sure that Alex and the rest of his friends had a nice place to sleep.

The morning sunlight slanted warmly through the trees, casting long shadows as Alex and the party gathered once more, their faces softened by rest and the satisfaction of a successful night’s revelry. Wyll, though looking slightly rough around the edges and limping just a bit, still bore a satisfied, if exhausted, grin. Karlach, on the other hand, was practically glowing with happiness, her boisterous energy undiminished.

Alex chuckled to himself, casting Karlach an amused look. 'I guess she really did make him see stars,' he thought, watching her bound around, clearly too pleased to keep still.

In Orssa’s home, her family waited, the warmth of their expressions tempered by something deeper, almost reverent. Orssa stepped forward, holding a small leather pouch in her hand, her face a mixture of pride and gratitude. Dorros, Lilimila, and Valni stood close by, each wearing expressions that showed their appreciation.

Orssa approached Alex, meeting his gaze with sincerity, her voice quiet but filled with conviction. “You saved us,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “Please, take this. It’s a small token, but it’s what we can offer.”

Alex hesitated, shaking his head and gently trying to push the pouch back into her hands. “You don’t owe me anything, Orssa. You all gave us something just as precious—a place to rest, a night to remember.”

But she pressed the pouch back into his hand, her fingers weathered yet resolute, her gaze unwavering. “Please. You saved my family, my friends. Let me thank you properly.” Her eyes glistened with tears that she blinked away, holding Alex’s gaze with a gratitude that seemed too vast to contain in words alone.

Alex paused, looking at each of them—the family they’d protected, the lives they’d changed. A quiet acceptance settled in his chest as he finally nodded, taking the pouch with reverence. It felt heavier than mere gold, holding the weight of trust, love, and hope .

Dorros stepped forward, his own voice warm with emotion as he extended his thanks to each party member. “What you did for us… It’s something we’ll never forget,” he said, his voice thick.

As they took their leave from Anga Vled, they found Glut waiting at the village entrance, his new appearance catching them off-guard. Gone was his old form, replaced by something larger, with a sleek, almost otherworldly shimmer.

Karlach squinted at him, her face a mix of curiosity and surprise. “Holy shit! Is that really you, Glut?” she asked, leaning in to study him closely, her nose wrinkling slightly as she sniffed the air. “You smell the same… but there’s something different about you. New perfume?”

Glut offered her a curt nod, his face as stoic as always but his eyes gleaming. Gale rubbed his chin thoughtfully, murmuring, “His appearance… it reminds me of the gargantuan mushroom we fought in the Feywild.”

Without warning, Glut phased out of view, reappearing an instant later right beside them, making several party members jump as his gaze settled on Alex. But Alex’s attention was elsewhere, his brow furrowing with a faint concern. 'Where is Bullet?'

A familiar voice murmured in his mind, 'He left a week ago, saying he caught a scent that called to him.' It was Shadow, his mental tone firm.

Before Alex could respond, he felt the reassuring tug of Bullet’s presence, rejoining their network, the familiar happy energy radiating from his loyal companion.

'Bullet, where have you been?' Alex asked, a note of worry in his voice.

There was a pause, then Bullet’s reply came, filled with unexpected pride. 'I’m a father now.'

Alex’s jaw nearly dropped, his mind racing to absorb what he’d just heard. Shadowheart noticed his surprise and tilted her head, concern flashing across her face. “Is something wrong?” she asked, eyes scanning him.

Alex managed a quick, dazed shake of his head. “No, no… just… let’s wait here a moment. Bullet has… something to show us.”

Moments later, their mouths collectively fell open as Bullet finally appeared, emerging from the shadows of the forest with an unmistakable air of pride—and four tiny landsharks tumbling around his feet. Each little creature mirrored Bullet’s stocky build, darting clumsily around him with big, curious eyes that peeked out from bony foreheads, their young bodies barely able to contain their boundless energy.

Bullet, was now every bit the proud father, his gaze softening as he nudged his young ones forward to meet the party. The group, momentarily stunned into silence, couldn’t help but smile as the tiny landsharks chirped and sniffed curiously at their new friends.

Wyll, despite his limp, knelt to meet the young landsharks, chuckling as one sniffed at his boot and gave it an experimental nibble. “You’re full of surprises, Bullet,” he said, laughing warmly as Karlach scooped one of the tiny creatures into her arms, her face alight with unrestrained joy.

As the four little landsharks tumbled forward, each of Alex’s companions reacted in their own unique way.

Astarion raised an elegant eyebrow, looking the tiny creatures up and down with a mix of bemusement and horror. “Oh, darling, I’m not entirely sure if they’re adorable or if they’re planning on taking a bite out of us,” he mused, folding his arms. But as one of the baby landsharks sniffed at his boot, he gave an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I suppose if they’re Bullet’s… children, they could have worse influences.” He glanced at Alex, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Congratulations on being a… grandfather?”

Gale knelt down, one hand thoughtfully scratching his chin as he watched the baby landsharks with genuine curiosity. “Fascinating… baby bulettes,” he murmured to himself. “To think, just last night, we were fighting for our lives, and now we’re meeting the next generation of apex predators.” He laughed, shaking his head as one of the babies gave his arm a friendly nudge. “And here I thought I’d seen it all. Perhaps I should conjure up a little enchanted toy for them? Seems only fitting for such historic newcomers.”

Shadowheart’s initial reaction was wary as she studied the little creatures’ movements, her gaze guarded. But as she watched Bullet nuzzle one of his young with unmistakable tenderness, her expression softened, a warmth flickering in her eyes. She reached out a tentative hand to let one of the babies sniff her palm, a small smile gracing her lips as she whispered, “Seems like you’ve started your own little family, Bullet.” She cast a side-glance at Alex, her tone thoughtful. “There’s something… grounding about it, isn’t there?”

Lae'zel’s initial response was one of surprise and skepticism, her arms crossed as she eyed the young landsharks. “These creatures are small and weak,” she declared in a low voice, her warrior’s instinct judging their potential. But as one brave little landshark attempted a fierce growl and tripped over its own feet, she let out a rare laugh, her stern facade breaking. “They will grow strong,” she added approvingly, giving Bullet an appreciative nod. “Train them well. They will be fierce allies in battle.” Her eyes glinted with admiration for Bullet’s achievement.

Glut observed Bullet’s new family with a detached interest, his gaze flickering between Alex and the little landsharks. “You all seem enchanted by these creatures, but to me, they are another element of life’s endless cycle.” Still, there was a subtle hint of respect in Glut’s expression as he addressed Bullet. “You’ve carried forward your line. This is a natural accomplishment—an important step in nature’s design.”

Tav looked on, a broad grin spreading across their face as the baby landsharks clambered around, occasionally bumping into each other with clumsy enthusiasm. “They’re incredible, Bullet! Who knew you had it in you?” Tav laughed, reaching down to scratch one of the young ones between its bony ridges, receiving a happy nuzzle in return. “This is… I don’t know… it feels like the world’s reminding us that life goes on, even after everything.” They met Alex’s gaze, the warmth in their eyes mirroring his own. “We’ve all made something of a family here, haven’t we?”

As the party toyed with the mini bullets, Alex closed his eyes, reaching out telepathically to connect with Bullet. He could feel Bullet’s thoughts flooding his mind, vivid and raw, layered with sadness, pride, and a bittersweet longing.

‘I was so buried in sorrow,’ Bullet began, his mental voice wavering with a deep ache. ‘After Shadow told me you had walked through that portal… to a place called the Feywild…’ He paused, and Alex could sense the heavy emptiness that had settled over Bullet since Alex’s departure. ‘I counted each day as it dragged by, bored and alone.’

Bullet’s thoughts shifted, growing sharper. ‘Then, a week ago, I caught a strange scent. It was strong, sharp, and it made me… angry. Really angry. So, I followed it. I didn’t know why, but I needed to find out what it was.’

Images flowed through their link—Bullet prowling through the forest, his massive claws tearing into the earth as he tracked the scent. ‘It led me to a pit. And there, in the middle, was another landshark, sitting in a circle of bones… broken, splintered, some ground down to powder. He wasn’t happy to see me.’

Bullet’s voice swelled with pride. ‘He charged at me, tried to prove he was stronger, fiercer. But I am no weakling, Alex. I fought him, claw for claw, tooth for tooth. It was fierce, brutal… but I won. I stood over him, victorious.’

Just as Alex could feel the thrill of triumph radiating from Bullet, the mood shifted again. ‘As I turned to leave, I caught another scent, one that was… different. Sweet, alluring. I turned around, and there she was—the most beautiful landshark I had ever seen.’

There was a softness in Bullet’s thoughts, a reverence. ‘We rolled around in the pit together… she was strong, fierce, but gentle in a way that felt new to me. I had never met anyone like her.’

Bullet’s memory painted a scene of him and the female, their powerful forms entwining in a rare moment of tenderness. Then, as the moments faded, the female landshark lay down, exhausted, and drifted into sleep. ‘I didn’t know what to do, so… I slept beside her. I wanted to be near her.’

The memories continued. ‘When I woke, she was laying five eggs. She threw me some hard looks, but she didn’t push me away. I think… I think she trusted me to stay. To protect them.’

A pang of sorrow rippled through the link. ‘A day later, the eggs started to hatch. My little ones crawled out of their shells, eyes wide, staring around the world for the first time.’ Bullet’s pride was palpable, but a dark undercurrent tainted his joy. ‘But… one of them… didn’t move.’

The weight of sadness deepened, pressing against Alex’s heart. ‘The lady… she didn’t hesitate. She took one look at the lifeless hatchling and… she ate him.’ Bullet’s mental voice quivered with suppressed rage and sorrow. ‘I was furious. I wanted to stop her, but something inside told me… it was her way. A mother’s way, even if I didn’t understand.’

The connection wavered, Bullet’s thoughts shrouded in sorrow. ‘We stayed in that pit for a while. But one day, without a word, she turned and walked away, leaving me and the little ones behind. I watched her go until she vanished over the horizon, and I felt… hollow.’

For a moment, the bond filled with silence, heavy with Bullet’s grief. Then he continued. ‘I stayed with them. My little ones. They were all I had now. We hunted, played, explored the land together. I taught them to track, to listen, to feel the earth under their claws.’

A sense of bittersweet pride radiated from Bullet’s mind. ‘And then, one morning, I looked at them and knew it was time to go home.’

As the mental link faded, Alex felt Bullet’s emotions linger, a mixture of loss and fierce love that left a deep ache in his own heart. Bullet had gained and lost, loved and mourned, all in the time Alex had been gone.

Alex reached out, gently patting Bullet’s armored head, feeling the coarse, scaled surface under his hand. Bullet’s tail began thumping the ground rapidly, sending small vibrations through the earth. For a creature so fierce, his excitement and affection were almost childlike, and it brought a soft smile to Alex's face.

As he looked down at Bullet, his thoughts began to drift, piecing together the weight of what had transpired. 'It seems his mutations have carried to his offspring,' he thought, realizing that Bullet's experience, his journey of survival, and the changes he had undergone were now embedded in his bloodline.

In most cases, a newborn bulette’s life began in blood and death. Hatchlings would tear their way from their eggs, immediately turning on their mother with primal fury, instincts honed over generations urging them to attack her. The mother would fight back savagely, slaying most of her young to ensure her survival, though many times, she would fall beneath the relentless assault of her offspring. Only the strongest—usually no more than two or three—would survive, gorging on their fallen siblings and their own mother, the macabre ritual leaving only the fittest alive to continue the cycle.

But Bullet’s offspring had broken that grim tradition. There had been no bloodshed, no brutal survival of the fittest. Instead, Bullet had stayed with them, played with them, nurtured them. They had grown in his care, innocent, unscarred by the violence of their lineage. Bullet’s life had given them something no bulette had ever known—a chance to be loved, protected, and cherished.