Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The ascension was complete. He actually went through with it. 7000 souls, gone.

Astarion, The Vampire Ascendant.

He convinced you that it’s what was necessary. You thought this would bring him peace. It’s what he wanted. You loved him, and you would’ve gone to the ends of the world for him; in your eyes, after everything he'd been through, it's what he deserved.

“I can hear it at last, how all the lowly creatures of this plane are begging to serve.”

But now that it was done, you couldn’t tell if he was still him. If the vampire before you was still the same you spent that first night in the woods. That same one who admitted to have fallen for you. The same one who thanked you for taking a stand against Araj at Moonrise Towers. And if he wasn’t, who was he now? Did he have anything left from his previous self? And could you still love him if he didn’t?

"The world will stir in fear."

The walk back to camp that day was dreary. As Astarion walked ahead of everyone with his newfound confidence, you were dragging your feet behind the rest of your party. The weight of what you had done, slowly setting in. Your friends asked about your well-being and you reassured them all that everything’s fine! It was just a big day! And you simply couldn’t wait to finally rest. You didn’t have the heart to admit that you were regretting what you had encouraged Astarion to do.

Back at the Elfsong, you wave to your companions an early good night as you are heading to bed, before Astarion pulls you aside.

“My consort, we are so close to our triumph, I can almost taste it.” Even his tone was different. What you used to qualify as theatrical was now leaning towards dramatical.

You freeze and look at him dead in his eyes. Every part of you is looking for any proof at all that he was still himself. After all, you had no way to know if the 7007 souls sacrificed also included his own.

“I think we need to talk,” your voice comes out colder than intended.

“Little love, whatever could be the matter?”

“Just– what in the Hells happened to you in there?” The words come out of their own, tainted with sadness.

“It's quite simple, really: I became a better version of myself. The very best, dare I say. And I have no one else but you to thank for it.”

You cross your arms and evade his eyes, your shame for your actions creeping up on you. “I don’t feel great about it, honestly.”

“Well, what’s done is done, and there’s simply no point in dwelling on the past, is there?”

His disdain for the enormous sacrifice that was made makes you scoff, incredulous. “You’re nothing like the Astarion I knew before.”

“I know. I’m better, stronger than he ever was. Finally free of my past.” He smiles, satisfied. “I’m who I always wanted to be. I have everything I ever wanted, except you, by my side.”

His hand reaches out to you and you quickly understand the offer he’s making: to make you a spawn, his spawn. The whole situation is bittersweet to you; of course you’ve always wanted what he wanted, what was best for him, and you would've spent your lifetime with him in another context, but with how he turned out following the ascension, this future isn't something you can imagine yourself in. Now that this choice is given to you, you know better than to accept.

You shake your head as you step back, “No… I won’t do it.”

He sighs, dropping his hand to his side, “Seems I misjudged you. I thought we might have a future together, eternity, even. Perhaps you’re not worthy.”

His condescending tone sparks a fury within you. “We’ll defeat the elder brain together. But after that, I want nothing to do with you,” you say as you try to contain the anger rising in your chest. His brows furrow, matching your energy. “So be it. You will regret leaving me, more than anything you live to regret.”

You give him one last angry look before walking to your bed, muttering to yourself as you feel tears swelling up.

“I regret letting you go through with that damned ritual.”

Chapter Text

I like (I like) what you like (what you like)
Long hair (no bra) that's my type (that's right)
You just told me, want me to fuck you
Baby, I will 'cause I really want to

You follow through with your promise. With the Netherbrain gone and your tadpoles vanished, nothing kept you together anymore.

You parted ways with all your companions, going out on your own, wherever your next adventure guided you. Finally, a normal life, or something closer to it, anyway. You did miss most of them, for what it’s worth; you considered them your family. You often wondered how Wyll and Karlach were faring in the Hells, and how Lae’zel’s quest to take down Vlaakith was going; you even considered offering your help at one point, but after ending things with Astarion, you needed to be alone.

The breakup hit you harder than you expected, it left your heart with a void. He looked happy following his ascension, so why couldn’t you be happy for him?

Why was this so hard on you?

It’s not something you had ever experienced in your past relationships, usually able to move to the next one rather quickly. You didn’t naturally get attached to people, you used to think that nothing lasts forever, and relationships weren’t an exception. This damned vampire proved to you once again that you were right, although you wished for once you weren’t. He took up all your thoughts, and you had to do something to wash him away.

You occupied your time best by helping people in need, taking bounties left and right, roaming the lands and fighting monsters. When you could afford it, you’d spend the night at the local inn, drinking to numb the feelings. On nights when you were most drunk, you ended up sharing someone else's bed, whoever proposed it to you on those nights. With the alcohol in your veins and your eyes closed, your mind let you believe that you were in his arms again. That it was all a bad dream, and you would wake up next to him, only to be hit by the harsh reality the next morning.

You did anything that you thought would help keep your mind busy. It did work for some time; as long as you were actively doing something – focused on the task at hand – you didn’t think about the past, but the moment night fell and you laid to rest alone, you were back at square one.

You felt guilty about Astarion’s ascension. Guilty of the impact it had on him and your relationship, guilty of the power you let him have and the consequences that it meant. Even guilty of how you felt about it; it was a vicious cycle that plagued you.

It had been your one and only mistake. You let yourself be blinded by the rose-coloured glasses of your love for him, and although you meant well, you’re very conscious of the damage this decision had on him and potentially the city, but also the 7007 souls sacrificed in the process. Granted, they were already spawns and there was no way to save them from this fate, they could’ve at least have had a chance at living in the Underdark.

Yes, you had saved the city – damages aside – lifted a curse, freed everyone and yourself from the Absolute, defeated the chosens of the Dead Three, bla bla bla, but your mind always drifted to Astarion’s fate.

What if you had stopped him? Surely, your life would be different now. You would be roaming the streets with him, probably. Maybe living together in the Underdark. He would’ve stayed himself. You would’ve been… happier.

When you receive Withers’ invitation to the reunion, it’s the first time in months you’re actually happy, excited even, to see your friends at long last, but also anxious. Your mind drifts to the vampire you used to love. Would you see him at the reunion? Would he have changed at all? How has he been?

Did he still think about you, too?

Looking forward to the night, you treat yourself out to a nice outfit from the local seamstress. You settle on a simple, yet elegant, black long dress with an open back. The summer night is nice and fresh; you’re glad you went for a long sleeved dress. Your hair, which you decided to let down, also partially covers your exposed back, covering you from the breeze.

You reach your old campsite to find out you’re the last to arrive, as you see all your friends already mingling. You decide to talk to Shadowheart first, as she was the one you missed the most, as you had grown particularly closer to her during your adventure. In another life, you would’ve been together, you think. You felt bad about not contacting her sooner, but her joy upon seeing you washes away all guilt. She greets you with a smile and a large embrace.

“Come here you! Gods, I missed you!”

You hold her tight, enjoying her strong hug.

“Tell me everything! How have you been?”

“Oh you know, a few killings here and there, little shenanigans all around, I’m sure whatever you have to share is much more interesting.” You wish you could say something different, but your adventures really had been that bland.

She rolls her eyes playfully at your deflection, “And how have you been feeling?”

“Greaaat, every day is a new adventure for me to discover.” You give a poor excuse for a laugh as an attempt to convince her.

She tilts her head forward and raises her eyebrow at you. She knew you better than you gave her credit for. “You know what I meant.” Her gaze points to the side behind you and you give a quick glance to see Astarion disdainfully looking at his surroundings, a silver cup in hand.

You sigh as you turn back to her, the facade falling at once. “I try not to think about it. I… hated what he became, and felt guilty about it. I did take part in it, I could’ve stopped it, but I didn’t.” You cross your arms, recollecting your thoughts. “But I’m starting to think that maybe I jumped to conclusions too quickly when I left him. I miss him and it’s… frustrating. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Seeing him again so soon is more difficult than I originally thought.”

“Did you talk to him?” “I was actually trying to avoid him,” you confess.

“And you think that's healthy?” “It's the only way I'll be able to move on.”

“And how’s that been going?”

“I–” You’re unable to answer her, the truth being that it was going horribly.

She grabs you by your shoulders, bringing your attention back to her, “Hey, you know if you need anything, I’ll be there for you.” You smile, sheepishly, as she brushes your hair behind your ear, softly cupping your cheek. “And if you’re looking for some company to take your mind off of a certain vampire, well, I would be glad to offer mine.” You get lost in her eyes, with her hand soft and warm against your skin. Her invitation is tempting, and your gaze falls on her lips as you speak up.

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Come meet me when the party's over.” She smiles back, giving you a quick peck on the cheek before walking away.

You spend the rest of the night catching up with all your friends, always keeping an eye on Astarion, who you notice has been eyeing you as well, as if he was expecting you to approach him, but you never do. You’re convinced nothing good will come out of it and even if you did talk, you’re not sure where you would even begin, so you keep your distance.

As the night settles down, you bid your close friends farewell and sneak out two bottles of wine to share with Shadowheart as she walks you to the inn she’d been staying at. The road is peaceful, and you reminisce about the past with the cleric, indulging in the leftover drinks you stole from the party. When you finally reach the inn, you're both a giggling and stumbling mess, empty bottles of wine still in hand as you enter her room.

As she closes the door behind her, you hear some patrons through the walls yell at you to shut up – it was late and your entrance had been pretty noisy – and you mockingly hush your friend, pressing a finger on her lips.

“Shadoooow, shhhhh” you whisper, your speech slurred. “You’re bothering people.”

“Oh, I’m bothering people? Care to remind me who stumbled their way up the stairs?” She says, laughing, her cheeks blushed by the alcohol.

“Hey– it’s not my fault their steps are so high and your room is so far,” you pout.

“Oh, my apologies,” she takes on a chivalrous tone. “Does my lady require assistance to reach her bed for the night?”

You answer, matching her tone. “That would be most welcome, dearest.”

You squeal as she picks you up in her arms with an impressive strength, and carries you to the large bed. You giggle when she drops you off, and she leans over you.

“Is my lady satisfied with my service?”

You fail to keep a straight face when you answer. “Most definitely. Thank you, my liege.”

She smiles back softly before crashing next to you, both of you staring at the ceiling, taking in the first moment of silence of your night. A second later and your mind is already thinking about Astarion and you sigh heavily. Your companion instantly notices your change of mood.

“It’s him again, isn't it?”

You groan, grabbing your hair in frustration. “Was I wrong? To let him go through with that damn ritual? Why does he get to live his best life and I’m still feeling awful abo–”

She cups your cheek and pulls your face close to hers, cutting you off with a kiss.

“How about we get to work on ‘forgetting about him’, hm?”

You nod slightly as you stare into her eyes, and she grins, her hand curling around your neck before crashing her lips against yours once again. You moan into the kiss, feeling the heat spread across your face and to your chest. Her kisses travel from your jaw down to your neck. She pulls your dress down, gradually exposing your flushed chest, before pulling back to take a good look at you, her own face matching your colour.

“You blush so beautifully.” Her voice is soft like velvet, each word making your heart pounce, as she continues to kiss her way down your navel, eventually discarding your dress on the floor.

You hide your face between your hands, trying to conceal the warmth coming from your cheeks and she comes back up to take your hands in hers, revealing your flustered state.

“You’re too pretty to hide yourself like that,” she reassures you with another kiss. “Let me admire you.”

You struggle to keep eye contact as one of her hands makes its way between your legs, teasing your entrance. Her fingers slide easily between your folds, earning her a moan out of you. She finds your clit and rubs you softly, your entire body twitching in reaction to her touch, and you shut your eyes to focus on the feeling, throwing your head back. Shadowheart takes this chance to trace the curve of your breast with her tongue, closing her mouth on its peak and sucking over it. Her tongue works wonders on you, and you whimper as she lightly bites you.

“Keep singing for me,” She says between kisses, her voice thick with lust. “I love the sound of your voice.”

Her name on your lips is like a prayer as she ravishes your breast, leaving a few love bites over your chest. She pulls back temporarily to remove her own clothing before climbing back in bed, resting between your legs. You barely manage to raise yourself up when she pushes you back down against the bed.

“Lay down love, and let me take care of you. Just the way you deserve it.”

She throws your legs over her shoulders and kisses the inside of your thighs, leaving more love bites and she makes her way to your cunt. Her tongue finally finds its way between your folds and she laps at your juices, making sure to lick you clean.

“Gods, you taste divine.”

Her hands dig in your thighs as she devours you and you arch your back at the sensation, taking in the feeling of her tongue entering you. Your hips soon follow the movement, wanting more contact, and she takes the hint, moving to your clit to give it the attention it deserves. You whine when she enters you with a finger, and a second one, slowly thrusting into you, as her tongue circles your sensitive bud.

Your chest rises higher and faster as your breathing quickens, and she knows you're close. Your eyes are long gone, but she looks up to you, admiring your state before she speaks up.

“Let it go, love. Come for me.”

She sucks once more on your clit, her fingers pushing harder against that sweet spot inside of you. You throw your head back, grabbing the bed sheets at your sides as you scream her name with the remaining air in your lungs and a crashing wave of sensations washes over you.

For a moment, your mind goes blank, there's nothing but pure bliss. You want to stay like this forever; finally at peace, content. As you come down from your high, your legs give out and you pant excessively, trying to catch your breath.

You feel the bed shift beside you and open your eyes to see Shadowheart lazily making her way next to you.

“But– what about you?” you ask, breathless and tired.

“You don’t think I enjoyed myself just now?” She laughs and kisses you. “You’re simply adorable.” She cups your cheek lovingly, brushing your hair away.

“Tonight was all about you. Plus, I doubt you'd be able to accomplish anything in the state you're in. You can always make it up to me another night,” she grins and boops your nose, smiling tenderly, before snuggling against you.

You watch her as she drifts to sleep next to you, moments before you cave into your own exhaustion. For the first time in months, you get a good, restful night of sleep.

When morning comes, you’re awakened by a god-awful headache, the consequences of last night’s drinking catching up to you. On the bright side, you find Shadowheart wrapped around you from behind, with her face nuzzled in your neck. You smile and hold on to her arm around your waist, linking your fingers with hers.

She awakens soon after and greets you with kisses on your shoulder. You turn around to properly kiss her good morning, but the pain throbbing in your head has you groaning and holding your head instead. She catches on quickly and casts lesser restoration on you, fixing your headache instantly.

“Thank you, doc.” You sigh, content, and turn your head to face her. “How will I ever repay you?”

She answers with a smile, “I'm sure you'll think of something.”

“Mmh, I might have an idea.”

“Oh?” She chuckles. “Colour me intrigued.”

You flip yourself above her, pinning her down before kissing her lovingly. When you pull away, you find her looking at you with the same lust she had for you the night prior. Her eyes fall on your lips before she speaks again.

“You should follow me on my next adventure. I think it would help you clear things up.”

You pull back, now sitting on her, as you take a moment to answer. “I have a few errands to run, but I might take you up on that offer.”

“I still have the room for a tenday,” she raises herself up on her elbows and gives you a pensive look before continuing her thought. “Let me know when you make up your mind.”

You get dressed up and kiss her goodbye, eager to go back to your own inn to get changed and take a much deserved bath. Since the room you had rented was yours for a few days, you might as well take the chance to shop around while you were there; you were in dire need of new equipment for your next adventures.

You spend those days getting upgrades for your gear, and visiting the city. Day after day, something felt odd; you had the weird feeling that you were being watched. Every time, nothing would happen, and neither did you see anyone suspicious, but the feeling never left. One night, as you were making your way to your inn, that feeling only got stronger. The streets weren’t busy per say, but everyone you could see was minding their business, discussing amongst themselves.

You pressed ahead to reach the inn faster; maybe it was all in your head, but just in case your intuition was right, you didn’t want to take any chances.

As you turn the corner to take a shortcut in a back alley, two figures block your path. In the dark of the night, you can’t make out their identities, but their threatening auras are enough to make you back away. You bump into two more imposing shadows, somehow having managed to sneak up behind you, who quickly grab your arms before you can think of escaping. You try to fight against them but their combined forces pin you down almost completely. You were strong, you shouldn’t have had any issue fighting them off, but their strength almost felt… surnatural.

If you had learned one thing during your misadventures, it was that when brute strength wasn't an option, you had to aim for their egos.

“Come on, four against one? How's that fair? Are you so weak that you can't face me alone? Let me get the chance to fuck you up, one after the other.” You smile cheekily, your blood running hot, ready for a fight. Karlach would be proud.

The bandits remain unphased by your taunting, with only one of them answering to your banter.

“We won't fight you. Our Master requested that you be brought alive.”

“Aw, poor lil pup can’t do anything without its master's permission,” you say, mocking them, and you laugh disdainfully at them. “You’re fucking pathetic.”

The figure moves towards you and you’re slapped with a strength that would’ve made you fall to your knees, had you not been held by the two other goons.

“ENOUGH!” Another figure speaks up. “Remember the Master mentioned that she be left unharmed.”

You lift your head back up, your breathing ragged by your furor. “How about you bring me to that master of yours so I can show him who he’s messing with?”

You wish you could take back your words as another figure appears, stepping out from the shadows, this one all too familiar.

“Hello, my sweet.”

I bet they planned it all out like the shows
Went everywhere I go
Walked in the store right behind me
Stood in line right beside me and followed me to my home
I'm sure they figured it out early on
That I would never run
That they could shoot, but that's no fun
'Cause then they're killing the stolen son, oh

Chapter Text

I fell in love with someone

I don’t know

Anymore, anymore

Sometimes I wonder if you

Think of me

Anymore, anymore

You can't make much of what happened after he appeared. You were too shocked by the presence of your past lover to acknowledge whoever cast sleep on you, knocking you unconscious at your most vulnerable moment. Cowards. When you awaken, you’re shackled, hanging to a wall in a dark cell. You pull against the restraints to no avail; you were securely locked in.

Your struggling must’ve made too much noise, as not long afterwards, the door opens wide, revealing Astarion, alone. He was standing proud in lavish clothing, different from the ones you had seen him in at the party a few days ago, but just as proper. As much as these last few months had been awful to you, it seemed like they had been the best in his last 200 years of existence. He approaches you slowly, head held high and arms crossed in his back.

“How’s your head, my dear?”

Hearing his voice again for the first time in months triggers a wave of emotions within you. Hurt, hatred, longing… lust. You shake them away as best as you can before questioning him.

“Why did you bring me here, Astarion?”

“I simply wanted to talk,” he says, his tone annoyingly playful.

“Was the kidnapping and shackles really necessary?” You slightly pull against them again to make your point; you can barely move in this condition.

“Can you blame me? Seeing how you ignored me so easily all night, and the fury in which you provoked my servants, I doubted you were going to follow me here willingly.”

You close your eyes and sigh, dropping your head, discouraged.

“Plus,” he adds, “I couldn’t take the chance to have you run out on me. I let you go once, it’s not a mistake I’ll be doing again.”

“Really? Now, after all these months, you want me back?” You chuckle, somehow finding a way to laugh at the situation you’re in as you raise your head back to meet his gaze. “I notice that your inability to move on wasn’t part of the many things that changed after your ascension.”

He smiles back, amused by your wits. “I told you, I only changed for the best. Besides, I know you've been missing me just as much.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, trying to conceal your reality. “You couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“Am I? Were you not alone and miserable for all these months, flinging yourself at any stranger willing to spend the night with you? Or did my spawns lie to me?”

“Wait… How do you know that? Have you been spying on me?!” You exclaim in disbelief.

“Well, someone had to make sure you weren't off to get yourself killed in some stupid way.”

You scoff, offended at this image he had of you. “I can handle my own, thank you.”

“And yet, my servants had no problems cornering you in a dark alley.”

You open your mouth as you're about to answer back when you find yourself at a loss for words. He got you there, the prick. He notices your silence and sighs before commenting on your state.

“I’m sure you’re mad at me right now, and I wouldn’t blame you for it. But know that I’m doing this for your own good.”

“My own good? If you wanted to help me, you would disappear from my life, let me go and give me a chance to move on.” You feel like crying, and yet, the irony of the situation makes you laugh some more. “You have everything you’ve ever dreamed of and yet, you still couldn’t find someone new to replace me.”

He laughs lightly. “I’ve only ever wanted you, my treasure. And now,” he walks towards you with a languid pace, his hand reaching for your chin, lifting it to meet his gaze, “You're finally where you belong, where you should have always been in the first place.”

You snap your head out of his grasp. “Shackled at your feet?” You spit out.

He forcefully brings back your gaze on him, his nails grazing your cheeks, making you hiss. “By my side.” He looks at your bared teeth, smiling. “You will make a deadly consort, that I'm sure of.”

Your eyes widen as you understand the implication, and your voice rises as the fear starts to set in. “Never.”

He tilts your head aside and leans in the crook of your exposed neck, his breath hot against your skin. “You don't have to. I can just take what's rightfully mine,” he whispers and that last word sends a chill down your spine.

You struggle in his grasp, trying to pull your neck away as you shout. “Don’t you DARE!”

He chuckles to himself. “Oh, don't you worry, I won’t bite unless you ask, very, very nicely.” He releases your face coldly but doesn’t move away from you. “But where are my manners? I almost forgot; I meant to invite you to eat.”

“I would rather starve,” you declare, leaning into that last word.

He sighs, seemingly growing tired of your attitude. “Fine, do as you wish,” he says, walking away from you.

He leaves and you’re left on your own for Gods know how long. You spend those first hours trying to free yourself still and eventually give up when you start to feel the bruises on your wrists. You drift in and out of consciousness, fatigue affecting you more with every hour that passes. Without any source of light, it’s nearly impossible for you to tell how much time had gone by since the night you were captured. But, judging by the growling of your stomach, at least a full day had gone by, maybe even two. Your arms and legs were starting to give out on you as well, when the door before you opened to a spawn you didn't recognize.

“Lord Ancunín invites you to dinner,” he says, composed.

“You can tell him to fuck off.” Your words don’t have the intended effect as they’re told with a shaky voice. In truth, you would kill for just a piece of bread right about now, but you would let yourself die before you complied to Astarion.

“I'm afraid that's not an option.”

Two more spawns appear behind him, and you instantly understand where this is going; this wasn't a request, it was an order. You're unshackled - although the spawns’ grips were so strong, you didn’t notice a difference - and guided out of your cell. You reach an immense dining room, where Astarion has been waiting for you, a gold cup already to his lips. Knowing him, you suppose it’s either blood or fine wine, not that you care either way. You sink into the chair positioned at your end of the table, eyeing the food before you suspiciously.

“You don’t seriously think I would poison you, do you?” He exclaims. “Oh no, quite the opposite; I only want what’s best for my precious pet.”

You scoff, briefly eyeing Astarion who is sitting opposite you before turning your attention to the contents between the two of you. You would lie to yourself if you said you weren't starving. The food laid out on the table looked delicious. The table was filled with different plates of food, each one looking better than the previous, making your stomach growl in appetite. You could practically drool all over the place, but you didn’t want to give Astarion the satisfaction of seeing you cave in. Not yet, not so soon. You wouldn’t let him get the best of you.

Astarion quickly understands your intentions, with you staring right back at him, and he sighs, rolling his eyes. “It wouldn’t be wise to let yourself starve, pet. You wouldn’t want to waste all this delicious food, would you? Don’t be shy, at least take a bite.”

You're tempted, but against your better judgement, you ignore the mouth-watering meal, crossing your arms in defiance. He rolls his eyes, matching your attitude.

“As you wish.”

He snaps his fingers and the two spawns that brought you here move towards you, reaching for your arms. You stand up abruptly, pulling away from them and swiftly grabbing a knife from the table, standing in a defensive stance. Astarion speaks up, and you can practically hear the smile in his voice. “Trust me, you do not want to pick a fight here. My lovely assistants only want to bring you back to your cell for the night.”

“I know the way.”

“I insist.”

Your fatigue and hunger get the best of you; you simply don’t have the energy to fight.

“Fine.” You drop the knife on the floor in defeat; even if you managed to land a blow, you had nowhere to run off to, and they would probably catch up to you anyway.

“That’s my girl.”

You shoot him a deadly glare and feel your breathing quickening as your heart races with anger and your nails dig through your palms; you hate the effect he still has on you. He knows just what to say to get to you. He smiles pretentiously at you, and you’re overcome with thoughts of jumping onto him and punching his stupid face, making him regret everything he’s done to you these last few days. If it wasn’t for the awful twist in your gut, you might have. You shut your eyes closed as you look away, frowning, before you start walking away and the two vampire spawns accompany you to your cell, where you let yourself slouch over the rock wall. At least, they didn't restrain you again.

Once again alone with your thoughts, your mind drifts to your companions. Specifically Shadowheart; would she still be waiting for you? Would she be looking for you? You wish you had a way to contact her, let her know you need help. Your thoughts are interrupted by a stabbing feeling in your gut, again. Maybe you should’ve taken a bite, just a small one, just to keep you going… No, this was a game to him, you needed to hold on. The pain is good, you try to convince yourself, it’s a reminder that I’m alive, mortal, and I’ll fight to keep it that way as long as I can.

Another wretched tenday passes and you avoid the food still. Every day follows the same routine: you’re woken up, Astarion’s spawns bring you to the large dining room where you’ll refuse to eat anything, until he gets bored of your attitude and you’ll be brought back to your cell, three times a day. You sense how Astarion is getting annoyed at you, and it strengthens your resolve. However, you hate to admit it, but you’re becoming weaker and weaker. You spend most of the passing days asleep, unable to think straight through your hunger, and too exhausted to do anything else.

Finally, you cave in.

As you're brought to the dining room for dinner, your gaze falls upon your favourite meal, presented before you. For the first time in days, your façade breaks down, you have eyes for nothing else other than the meal in front of you. Had this been given to you on the first day, you would’ve gladly turned it down, but you didn’t have that kind of resolve anymore. Astarion snaps you out of your reverie by speaking up, and you raise your eyes to meet his.

“You had asked me what my favourite meal was and I couldn’t remember.” His tone is gentle. “It had been so long that everything tasted like garbage. Even wine tasted like pure vinegar. It frustrated me. That’s when you told me about yours: Baldurian Mash. You described it in such great detail, I could almost taste it myself.” He pauses, and you look up to meet his gaze. “I wanted to give you what I couldn't have. A chance to remember.” You can’t stop the tears from swelling up. You’re famished, completely drained, and mentally spent; this was the last straw. You grab the gold-plated utensil with a shaky hand and dig into the plate, shoving that first bite in your mouth. It’s even better than you remember it. You chew on that first bite longer than necessary, relishing the taste of the meal. It’s comforting, filling, it tastes like home; it’s everything you’ve wanted and more. You are so hungry that you end up ravishing the rest of it, barely taking the time to savour it properly past that first mouthful. Your belly growls, this time content with the food you finally gave it. After so many days resting on an empty stomach, you can't afford to eat anything else. You smile unconsciously as you lay back in your chair, satisfied with your meal, before getting up to leave, following the usual routine.

You stop in your tracks near the door and slightly turn around towards the ascendant, pausing before the words escape your lips.

“Thank you.”

As you walk away, you miss the devilish grin forming on his lips, as you curse yourself for granting him the satisfaction of your words.

You know the way to your cell by heart now; you would probably be able to reach it with your eyes closed. You walk in front of the spawns, your mind wandering to your evening, to him. He remembered that little detail about you that felt so insignificant back then, and he sounded so sincere. What if he cared all along? Had you been wrong about him all along? Did you miss out on the signs, too blinded by your guilt? Deep down, was he still your Astarion? The same questions keep repeating themselves over and over until one of the spawns speaks up, snapping you out of your own world.

“Excuse me, my lady?”

Lady? The mention of the title stops you in your tracks and you turn around to face them, a question mark visible on your face.

“Lord Ancunín requested that you be moved to this room from now on.”

The spawn walks towards a door you had never noticed previously and opens it, welcoming you in. You look at the other spawn who nods at you before you walk towards the room. Inside you find a large bed, draped in luxurious blue and gold silk sheets, a lit fireplace creating a warm light all around, and a large window, covered by black curtains. The room alone is almost as large as the one you shared with your companions back at the Elfsong. The walls were filled with books that you couldn’t make out exactly, and a cosy blue velvet chair sat between the fireplace and the window. You’re still taking everything in when one of the spawns speaks up.

“Please let us know if you are in need of anything. Have a good night, my lady.”

You barely notice them as they both leave, closing the door behind them, too enraptured by the sight of your new room. You're confused. Could this be a trap? Was he watching you from somewhere like he had been all those previous months? You look around quickly but can't make out much, as the fatigue from your first meal in days settles in. The bed in the middle of your room looks so comfortable after spending days sleeping against the cold rock ground. You reach for it and as you lay down, you feel yourself drift to sleep almost instantly.

Familiar faces that look like you

They tend to

Mess with head just like it's deja vu

It's always

Right when I think I’m getting over you

That it feels

Like I have salt inside an open wound

Chapter Text

You don't love me like you think you do

You don't know I'm just as bad as you

When you awaken the next morning, the first thing you feel is the ache in your muscles. It had been forever since you were able to sleep soundly, and your body made sure to remind you every time you tried to move a muscle. You were thankful for the soft bed and you didn’t want to leave it, but the smell of your dirty clothes brought you to your senses; you were long overdue for a change of clothes.

You struggle to get up, but you painfully manage to rest up on your elbows, scanning the room surrounding you. You didn’t want to stay in your putrid clothes, but everything you owned was still neatly packed in the room you rented at the local inn. With a boost of determination, you finally get on your feet to explore the large room. That’s when you notice another door and you open it to discover your very own bathroom. After spending days rotting away in a cell wearing the same clothes, you admit that a bath sounds delightful.

You briefly remember the spawn from the night prior and shout an uncertain ‘Hello?’ that is quickly followed by her opening the door to your room and stepping in, awaiting your next command. She was so quick to answer that you wondered how long she had been standing outside your room.

“Can you run me a bath? Please?”

“Of course, would you like Lord Ancunín to join you?”

“What?!” You’re completely taken aback by the suggestion. “No absolutely not, I would like to be alone.” The audacity. As if you wanted to endure his presence any longer than necessary.

“As you wish, my lady,” the spawn says, as she gets your bath ready for you. Once done, she bows to you and leaves you alone.

You remove your dirty clothes, carelessly tossing them aside. Taking a good look at them, you don’t even think there would be a point to washing them; your last few days had been rough on you and them, you realise, with the stitching coming apart at a few places. You step into the lukewarm water and close your eyes as you let yourself sink, your breath leaving your lungs progressively until you’re laying flush with your head against the edge of the bath. Your body completely submerged in the water creates the feeling of a warm blanket comforting you, and you let yourself melt in its embrace. When you take your next breath, you’re hit with Astarion’s signature smell; the strong notes of bergamot and rosemary invade your nostrils and suddenly, he’s polluting your thoughts.

You’re taken back to a simpler time, nights when he was still vulnerable and you would let him feed on you, where he would get lost in your neck, and you would get lost in the feeling of his mouth against your skin. Your mind wanders further, as you remember the nights you got even closer; the touch of his cold but delicate hands over your warm skin, his delicate attention after drinking from you, each kiss a silent thank you and I'm sorry. For him, you would’ve done it every night without a second thought, until the end of your life.

You don’t realise that your thighs have been rubbing against each other, trying to chase relief from the memories you imposed on yourself; memories of his tongue, his hands, his lustful praises, his otherworldly adoration of you. You lose track of time, and a knock on the door brings you out of your reverie abruptly.

“Breakfast is served, my lady.” You hear through the door. “You’re invited to join, whenever you’re ready.”

You cast aside the daydream you had lost yourself in, unsure if your flushed cheeks were caused by the initial warmth of the bath or your memories of the past, and begrudgingly get out of the water, quickly grabbing a nearby towel to cover up. You walk back into your room where you find a beautiful, dark blue dress with a plunging collar, and black lace all around it and the wrists, laid out for you on your bed. You inspect it some more, noticing the embedded dark brown leather belt at the waist, before slipping into it to realise it's a perfect fit. Of course. This can’t be a coincidence, you think. This wasn’t just some dress he bought, this was made specifically for you. The thought annoys you immensely, but you put the feeling aside for now, walking out of your room at last to follow the spawn to the familiar dining room. Astarion is there as usual, but this morning he seems less tense than before. Happy, even.

“Good morning, my sweet. I hope you slept well.” He smiles as he eyes you up and down, admiring how nice this dress shapes your form.

“I did,” you pause momentarily, reflecting on whether you should let the next words come out. You don’t know why you're struggling so much to utter them, when it was so easy to let it slip the previous day. You take a deep breath and finally speak up. “Thank you.”

He leans back in his chair, pleased. “So, I take it you’ve been enjoying your new commodities?”

“I have, I suppose–” One spawn pulls out your usual chair for you and you pause before sitting down, the act leaving you more and more confused. “...I’m just wondering why you would offer me a room.”

“So you could sleep comfortably after your first meal in days, obviously.”

“But why now? Why not throw me back into that cell I’ve been in for the last, what, tenday?”

“That would simply be rude. Your room was ready, it's only fair you get to sleep in it now.”

You take a moment to process the words. “My room?”

“Of course, darling. I doubt you'd want to share a room with me so soon, as much as I would love to,” He gives you a salacious look, one that you recognize from your time spent together in the past. You feel your cheeks grow warm from his gaze. “Until then, you get your own space.”

As you reflect on his answer, your eyes wander over your plate and the rest of the delicacies placed on the long table, and it sparks more questions out of you, although unrelated. “Why do you always have so much food made? Even if I ate, I would never eat this much.”

“This way you can choose whatever you prefer. Isn't it nice to have the luxury of choice?”

You’re taken aback by his generosity. It was such a contrast to the treatment he imposed on you these last few days, you’re not sure what to make of it. Was he genuinely being good or was this some sort of twisted trap? “The food, and now the room, and this,” you gesture towards the dress, “What are you trying to prove?”

“Nothing wicked, I assure you, my dear. I’m just trying to show you how…. Beneficial it is, when you cooperate.”

You lay back in your chair, crossing your arms “And just why would I want to cooperate? Are you going to torture me if I don’t?”

“Depends if your definition of torture includes galas, parties, and soirees among the high society.”

“I’m sorry– what?”

He stands up to walk towards you. “You’ll see soon enough.”

“Even if I did, I hardly have anything to wear, I doubt I–”

“Nonsense.” He cuts you off. “I already have the perfect dress in mind for you.”

“Another one? What about my clothes? And all my stuff back at the inn?”

“Oh darling, you can leave those rags, I could have a whole wardrobe ordered just for you.” He sits on the edge of the table, right next to you.

“This is… a lot. I– I don’t know what to say.”

“You can start with a ‘thank you’. And as for the rest, well, we can work out the details later.”

Your clothes were pretty bland, they looked like nothing exceptional given they served you on your continuous adventures; they were meant to be dirtied. You would probably indulge in the offer if it had been about anyone else, but you still felt as if there was an unspoken condition you were agreeing upon if you were to accept these gifts, and you didn’t want to just go in blindly.

“I still have my personal belongings left over there, though.” You say, with a cheeky tone, crossing your arms over your chest. “Can’t replace those.”

He groans, “Alright, if you insist, go get them.”

“...What do you mean? Just... go?”

He laughs. “My sweet, the doors have always been unlocked, you're free to come and go as you wish. I would love for you to stay so that I could pamper you all day and night as you deserve, but I know better than to stop you.”

“Oh.”

“Unless you want me to arrange for one of my servants to fetch them for you?”

“No! No, I– uh, I would rather take care of that myself.”

“In that case, I will let you get to it. The doors will still be unlocked when you come back.” He watches as you stay motionless, your eyes going back and forth, clearly confused by this exchange. His hand reaches to lift your chin to face him. “No traps, I promise. Cross my heart and hope to… well, you get it.”

He stands to leave and you get up abruptly, “Wait!” he stops in his tracks, looking back at you, “What about those galas and parties you were talking about?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, little love.” He smiles. “Now go on, I would greatly appreciate it if you were back in time for lunch.”

He leaves you to attend to his daily routine and it takes you a few seconds to get up as well and exit the room, without even taking a bite of your breakfast; you couldn’t eat even if you wanted to after this discussion. As you make distance from the dining room, your cadence accelerates and you’re almost running towards the entrance door. You cross paths with many of his spawns, most – you notice – were humans and tieflings, including the one who had been taking care of walking you to your cell and, most recently, your room. They watch as you haste towards the exit without reacting much and this only adds to your state of confusion. When you finally cross the doors, you flinch at the brightness of the sun; the crimson palace was rather dark from the inside, and aside from the large window in your room, you had barely had exposure to the outside world since you’d been retained. As your eyes finally adjust to the light, you finally head for the inn.

You’re startled by the realisation that, now that you’re out of his palace, you’re consciously making the choice to go get your things to move them in instead of staying at the inn, or even running away. It’s the smart choice, you think. The inn keeps charging me for each day that passes, Astarion lends me a room free of charge. I would be a fool not to take him up on that offer.

But why didn’t you just leave, then? You could just pack your things and go far away from this place. What stopped you?

Once at the inn, you take the time to gather your things; you realise you really didn’t have much. Truth be told, you maybe had three changes of clothes and barely any other belongings. Back at the palace, you only mentioned your personal items for the sole purpose of arguing with Astarion, not really expecting this turn of events. You throw your bag over your shoulder and make a last stop to pay the innkeeper, only to be told that your room had been paid for already. You assume it’s another move from the vampire, but when you ask about it, the tiefling employee mentions it was a “white-haired, half-elf woman that looked quite worried – or pissed”, he wasn’t able to tell the difference, “who left in a hurry after paying.”

Shadowheart.

You can’t believe you had forgotten about her, and the plans you had made to leave with her days ago.

You thank the innkeeper and walk back to the crimson palace, thinking about what you could possibly do to own up to her. She must’ve already been long gone by now, she only mentioned staying in town for a few more days before you got taken away by Astarion’s minions. Did she think you had abandoned her? No, she must’ve known something had happened to you if she paid for your tab. Was she out looking for you, then? Where would she even be now?

Once back at the palace, you immediately try to find a pen and some paper to write her a letter. She deserved to know you were safe, and if ever your paths were to cross again, you did owe her for the bill she covered. It’s the least you could do. You sit down at your vanity and do your best to share your feelings on paper.

Shadowheart,

I want to preface this by saying that I’m sorry I didn’t reach out before. Things got carried away and I had a lot on my mind. I am safe, and still in town if you want to reach out. A lot has happened since we last saw each other, and I think you deserve an explanation. If you want to talk and know more about it, you can find me at the crimson palace. I’m sure this already gives you an idea of how things are going. And thank you for covering the bill at the inn, I’ll pay you back once I see you again, hopefully over another bottle of wine.

I’m sorry, and I hope to hear from you soon,

Your friend.

You seal the letter and write down her name on the envelope before asking the nearest servant to mail it as soon as possible. There can’t be another Shadowheart in Baldur’s Gate, surely the letter will reach her, you think.

Until she receives your letter, you figure you should stay at the palace, so she knows where to find you.

Another day passes and you still have no news from your cleric friend. The days grow long when you have nothing to do but wait in your room. Patience was never your forte, and the more you walk restlessly around your room, the more you feel yourself going insane. You decide to get out and walk around the palace; although you had spent countless days here, you realise you never went out of your way to explore it.

You're not sure you wanna get anywhere near the dungeons; none of your experiences with them have been pleasant, and from the time you recall spending in them, they didn't seem to contain anything interesting. For now, walking in the hallways would do. You notice how all the paintings were different from the first time you visited. Instead of people, it was landscapes. You don't recognize the places, but they felt peaceful: lots of greenery, small villages, valleys filled with wildflowers. And of course, at least one portrait of Lord Astarion Ancunín himself. You remember back when he ascended, the first time he saw his reflection after 200 years. Had it not been for the fact he had sacrificed 7007 souls to make it happen, you would've been happy for him.

You should be happy for him, you think.

You don't get to linger too long on the feeling when you hear laughter from a nearby room. You walk close enough to be able to see what the commotion was about, and you're shocked to discover the source of the laughter belonged to Astarion’s spawns, his children. You seem to have found their shared room, and unlike what you remember of his siblings, these spawns seemed genuinely happy. While some were playing cards, others seemed to be gossiping while doing each other's hair. You recognize the spawn that has been taking care of you, and for the first time, you take the time to really look at her. She seems very young, she couldn't be older than 20 when she turned. Visibly, she's human, you don't think she could be mixed either. She has long, curvy dark brown hair that she visibly takes care of, as it is shiny and luscious. She’s laughing with the tiefling who’s hair she is braiding. These spawns, as opposed to what you recall from Astarion's experience, got along like real siblings.

You don't want to intrude on their privacy any longer, so you step away from the door only to bump into something.

“Sneaking around I see?”

Or someone. “Fucking Hells, are you trying to kill me?!”

“I wouldn’t mind indulging in a little death, so to speak.”

You groan, “Okay well, next time, try to announce yourself instead of waiting for me to bump into you?”

“Now, where's the fun in that?” He looks up to see what you were previously spying on. “I see you've found my children's room. I do intend on making it bigger as I recruit more of them, but for now, this’ll do nicely.” He looks back at you, “What about you? Has my little pet decided to stick around?”

You roll your eyes at the pet name. “I haven’t. This is… temporary, until I find a better place. And I’m not your pet.”

“Whatever you say, dearest.” He didn’t seem to believe you.

“I’m serious. I don’t–” His smirk makes you stop mid-sentence. He’s toying with me. Asshole. I can play that game too. “I'm only staying until I hear from Shadowheart, then I’m leaving, with her.”

“The cleric, huh? I can only assume this night you spent with her must’ve been… enlightening.”

“You have no idea,” you sneer.

“Tell me, was it anything like our nights together?” You open your mouth, ready to give him a snarky answer, but he continues before you can, moving in on you. “Did you get lost in her touch? Did her words soothe your wounds?” Your voice gets stuck in your throat and you gasp when you hit the wall you backed up against, as he leans an arm against it while lifting your chin up, his lips nearing yours. “Did her tongue dance on your skin like mine did? Did she make you scream at the heavens?” He leans to the side of your head, his voice but a whisper next to your ear and his warm breath sends a shiver down your spine. “But what I want to know more is, did you think of me as she did it all?”

Any thoughts of answering anything at all flies out the window. Your dress barely contains your chest as it rises with each breath you take. He pulls back slightly to look at you with half-lidded eyes and your stressful blinking keeps switching between his eyes and his mouth. There is a part of you that wants nothing but to close this gap between the two of you, make him lose that stupid smile he wore constantly. This irritating… enchanting smile…

Before you can let any impulsive thoughts get the best of you, he steps back, breaking this unbearable proximity.

“Come, I want to show you something.” He walks away from you without looking back, as if he knew you would follow. And gods dammit, you do.

You’re silent as you walk behind him, working on getting your breathing back to normal, when you end up in the courtyard. It's modest, but is surrounded by a great variety of flowers, which sparks your curiosity.

“I didn’t take you for a flower enthusiast.”

“I used not to like them, they're gaudy and almost never make a good poison, but I found out some have other uses.”

“What good could they be to you if not as a weapon?”

“Aside from the fact that they can be used to cover the scent of death? Let me see,” He walks around the garden, pointing out each type of flower as he mentions them. “Lavender, for one, is a natural relaxant. Yellow marigolds are believed to improve someone’s mood with their mere presence.” He carefully picks out a flower before approaching you once more. He strokes your cheek carefully pushing your hair aside, before resting the white flower over your ear. “Jasmine, among other things, can even be used as an aphrodisiac.”

Your voice softens following his sweet gesture, “I still don't see how these can be helpful to you.”

“Sometimes, a little persuasion is more effective than any poison, my dear.”

“Has this ever worked out in your favour?” You recall Astarion being a man of action, not reflection; you have a hard time imagining him dabbling in flower concoctions.

“Do I not have you? After everything, that should speak for itself.”

You sigh, “You don’t. I'm not yours, and I'll never be." You pull back and turn away to hide your expression. You always stood by this truth ever since you’ve been back, but speaking them aloud this time hurt you. It was the first time you wished it wasn’t true, a painful reminder of what you two had been through. "Those days are long gone.”

“They don't have to be.” His voice drops to a lower tone and you hear him approaching you, but you remain turned away, avoiding his gaze. “We have a chance to be together once more. Think of the power you could have if you were mine; the strength, the security. Everything would be so much easier if you were. You could stay forever beautiful, my eternal flower.”

Just when you were lost in thought, considering his words, you notice his hand at your side handing you an eccentric dark laced mask. This makes you turn your head around to question him.

“What's that?”

“Consider it as your formal invitation to Duke Stellar’s masked ball. Many important people will attend it, and I want you to accompany me.”

You stay silent; this must’ve been part of the parties he was talking about a few days earlier, but you didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Met with your lack of answer, he continues.

“The ball is in two days, that should give you plenty of time to think about your decision, but do take in consideration that your dress is already commissioned, it should be ready for the day of the event. Until then, I would suggest that you enjoy everything the palace has to offer. Feel free to revisit it; I made a few changes since I've claimed the place.”

He walks back inside, leaving you alone once again with your thoughts.

As much as you want to refuse, there's a part of you that's curious to see what this ball was about. It's not like you had anything left to lose, either. It could take off your mind from waiting on hearing from Shadowheart, too.

Plus, you missed wearing extravagant dresses, moreso ones especially made for you.

You don't know me like you think you do

You don't own me, but I can't cut you loose

Chapter Text

Don't say yes if you can't say no

Victim of the system, say it isn't so

Squatted on the doorstep, swallowed all the blow

Leaving without you, can't say no

The night of the ball finally came. As far as you know, tonight’s ball is hosted by a highly influential duke who Astarion intends to ally with.

Your dress, specifically commissioned by Lord Ancunín himself for the occasion, is a gorgeous royal blue long gown with an open back, which highlights your toned muscles, with golden patterns of a flying dragon embroidered under the chest area, and vines of daffodil flowers grappling from the bottom of the helm up to the waist. The sleeves are made from lace matching the colour of the dress, with a pattern of hyacinths complimenting them.

Along with the dress, you wear a tight laced collar necklace adorned by a nuummite stone. You notice the similarities with the previous dress Astarion had made for you; the colours and patterns were a contrast to what you remembered of Cazador’s red and black.

You slip into the dress easily and the same spawn that had prepared your bath before, now prepares your hair for the night. You sense that she was the one dispatched as your personal assistant, since she had been the one who had been taking care of you since you moved into the room. It felt odd having her being so close to you and not even knowing her name. You knew she must’ve been a human before her transformation, but aside from the obvious, you knew nothing of her.

You take advantage of the time it takes for her to prepare you for the night to learn more about her story.

“I realise now that I never asked, but what’s your name?”

You feel her hands pause their work in your hair. “My name is Amedee.” She continues to brush your hair.

“That’s a beautiful name.” You pause for a moment, anxious to carry on. “I… wanted to thank you for taking care of me, since I’ve arrived.”

“It’s really no trouble,” you hear the smile in her voice.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you become a spawn?”

It’s unsettling how you’re unable to look at her reflection from the mirror you were facing, and you have to guess her expression based on her tone alone.

“I came to Lord Ancunín myself. I was sick, and the doctors said my condition was incurable. I had heard about the new vampire lord who had helped in saving the city and... I know it probably sounds foolish, but I didn’t want to die so young, so I took a chance and… here I am.”

“So then… It’s a known fact that he’s a vampire?”

“Not exactly. My family are Gur monster hunters, so they knew all about his identity, and that’s how I knew. It’s also why after turning I decided to stay as one of his servants. I never shared my family’s beliefs and they would never accept me back with my new... condition.” She sees your wandering eyes in your reflections and lays her hands on your shoulders, “I'm here on my own terms, my Lady, I assure you.”

Your eyes tentatively look back in the mirror only to be met with your own reflection.

She continues as she braids your hair, “I could probably leave if I wanted to, but I have no reason to. The Master treats us well; he offers us protection, a roof over our heads, and, well, blood. As far as I'm concerned, this is my new home. My new family.”

The few moments of silence between the two of you are filled by the crackling of the fireplace. “And why do you refer to me as ‘Lady’? It’s a title I abandoned a while ago…” The brief memory of your upbringing brings out a bittersweet feeling; you never thought you would bear this title again after running away from your family.

“Oh, it was Lord Ancunín who requested that we refer to you as such.”

Of course he did, you think. “I give you the permission to call me by my name. It would make more sense to me that you do, given that we’ll be very close since you’re assigned to my personal care.”

“I– I appreciate the attention, but if it’s alright with you I would rather stick to your title.” Her voice shakes. “It’s just all so soon, I’m not sure I would be comfortable. I’m sorry.”

You sigh, “I understand.”

Just as she finishes talking, she completes your hairdo; she settles on a simple, yet elegant, braided bun. Two strands of your dark hair are let down to frame your face, along with a set of earrings matching the crystal on your neck. Then, the final touch; a black lace mask, with extravagant dragon wings completely covering your eyes and nose, and partially your cheeks.

“And voilà! All ready for the ball, my Lady.”

You finally turn to see her smile at you and you almost feel foolish for asking her this last question, “Do you ever regret it? Turning, I mean.”

Her smile softens, “If given the chance, I would do it again.”

You return her smile as you thank her for her service and the open-hearted discussion, and head out where you join Astarion who was waiting for you at the carriage. You see the traits on his face light up, his eyes completely lost in your sight.

“My treasure, you look ravishing.”

You avoid his eyes and try to conceal the shy smile creeping up on your lips. Although the reason for this outfit was less than ideal, you did love how it made you feel. It truly was made for you, with your preferences in mind and highlighting your best features, but still matching Astarion's esthetic, along with his own suit for the night.

When you arrive at your destination, a servant opens the door to your carriage, and Astarion steps out first to hold out his hand for you to walk out. You second guess the gesture, but indulge him, as anything less than loving attention from both of you could risk arising questions from the other guests, and the last thing you wanted was to draw out any unwanted attention.

As you walk through the entrance of the palace, you are announced as Lord and Lady Ancunín. The title makes you give a side look to your partner.

“What?” He retorts. “Are you not my assigned company for the night? Plus,” he tilts your chin upwards. “It’s a title that suits you beautifully.”

“Only for tonight, I don’t intend on sticking around much longer.” You say, as close as a whisper as you can, while carefully pushing his hand aside.

He sighs exasperatedly, “And it’s a shame, truly, so we should enjoy ourselves while we can, don’t you think?”

You roll your eyes, but you’re willing to let it go, if only for tonight.

When you step inside the palace, many emotions overcome you as you are taken back to a time before the tadpole and the Absolute, and you freeze in place briefly, but long enough for Astarion to notice. He pulls you in closer to murmur down your ear.

“Stay with me love, I would hate to lose you when I’ve only just gotten you back.”

You shake your head, taking a deep breath in an attempt to ground you back to the present, “I’m– I’m fine. I just need to walk a bit.” You adjust your mask, making sure it’s properly covering your face.

“Well then, I have some people I need to talk to, so I’ll let you enjoy the festivities, but don’t stray too far,” he raises your hand to his lips to kiss it. “Until then, darling.” He gives you one last sly smile before vanishing into the crowd.

You’re walking around the ballroom, keeping to yourself as you eavesdrop on the inconspicuous members of this high society when you hear a familiar name being mentioned: Ancunín. You let your curiosity get the best of you; what did these people have to say about your vampiric companion?

You listen in and to your surprise, it was… positive?

He had apparently been helpful in rebuilding the city and using his already strong influence to have other Lords and Dukes from the surrounding lands fund the repairs.

Perhaps, he wasn’t all bad like you originally thought. Maybe, just maybe, he had changed for the better after all, and all the gifts he gave you were simply his way to catch up for the months you spent apart. It left you wondering: Was he right, all these months ago? Was it a mistake to leave him? Was this goodness always a part of him and you just refused to see it?

No… That couldn’t be right… Could it?

Not that further away, you hear another group of men talking about him, but this time the conversation is bitter. They seemed to hate how easily he had made his way to the top; how what took them years to achieve only took him months, and you can briefly catch a few sentences through the sound of the crowd.

“All because he saved the city once. I bet I could do it too if I had the opportunity. He just got lucky.”

You huff, absolutely appalled by their words that affected you just as much since you had been part of the effort to take down the Absolute. I'd like to see you try. As they turn around, you realise your voice came out louder than you expected.

“What was that?” One of them asks, looking at you.

You try to hide your distress, “Oh! Nothing, I was just talking to myself,” you chuckle nervously.

“No, no, please, we would love to hear your input on our private discussion.”

You huff, “You’re in the middle of a ballroom, how private could it be?”

Your words slip out before you can think of the repercussions, but it's too late by now: the man who previously spoke up moves in on you, followed by a second one. Their companion doesn’t intervene, seemingly unfazed by your intrusion, but it doesn’t stop the two other men to close in on you. Fear starts to build up in your chest; you were good with your fists, not with words, and this was not something you could solve with a few punches.

Just when you thought you were done for, the music changes and people move aside to leave a space in the middle of the ballroom, where couples gather to dance. This distraction stops them in their tracks as the mass of people moving now blocks their path to reach you. You take this chance to sneak out of the thorny situation you got yourself in and slip in the back of the crowd, where you believe you can hide from the men you had angered, when you feel the warm breath of a whisper in the back of your neck.

“Missed me, my sweet?”

“Gods!” You jump at his sudden appearance. “Do you have to sneak up on me every time you wanna talk?” You try to whisper to avoid any attention.

“I do love your little jumps of excitement to my presence.”

You groan at his innuendo, too focused on catching your breath to come up with something clever. As your eyes settle back on the crowd, you find the eyes of one of the men from the earlier confrontation you had. Intuitively, you step back to try and get away from his eyes, only to be caught by Astarion who noticed the exchange.

“It seems you were fast to make new friends, dear. Care to introduce me?”

“Fuck no. Those assholes were bad mouthing us and I just–” You try to calm yourself as you remember their conversation. “I couldn’t keep to myself when I heard them and I may have whispered just slightly louder than anticipated. Let’s just say I was lucky the dance came on when it did.”

Behind you, he smirks as an idea crosses his mind. “Let’s show them you’re not someone to mess with.”

You scoff, “I would beat them up, but this is hardly the time and place.”

He chuckles before lowering his head to your shoulder, whispering closer to your ear. “Dance with me.”

You turn your head to look at him, puzzled, “I didn’t take you for a dancer.”

“Only when it proves necessary,” he moves in front of you and holds out his hand as an invite, his seducing smile never leaving his face. “And I believe a dance as the great Lord Ancunín’s consort might just be what you need.”

Before the next song begins, you reach out for him and he guides you on the dance floor. As you place your hand in his, and over his shoulder, his hand holds firmly over your waist, pulling you tightly against him. Your chest rises to the sudden proximity you’re drawn into and you feel as if your heart is going to burst out of your chest; it had been so long since you had been this close to each other. Your eyes briefly look over his lips and you’re suddenly thankful for the crowd surrounding you, as you’re not sure what you would do if you were left alone with him. The violins initiate the next dance and it takes everything in your power to focus on your footsteps, following the choreography that you had learned years ago.

“Darling, you’re making it very difficult for me to focus,” he whispers close to your ear.

“I don't know what you mean,” you whisper back.

“Your heartbeat, dear. I knew I had an effect on you, but this is just depraved.” he says, with a sultry voice.

You feel your cheeks grow warmer and you thank the gods your mask covers them at least partially; you would never admit the effect he had on you. You pull your gaze away from his lips. “Ugh, please, this is the first time I’m dancing in ages. I’m simply anxious about fucking it up.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that, you’re doing amazingly well.”

You knew that; you weren't really nervous about your dancing skills, you spent your entire childhood practising the same patterns, getting ready for those balls where you would find a suitor to be married off to. Not that it ever happened, but you couldn't forget those dances even if you tried to.

Your eyes scan the room and the people around you as your twirl, and that’s when you notice their judging eyes on you, as if they knew you didn’t belong. You find yourself anxiously looking for the eyes of the men you had angered earlier.

Astarion notices your scurrying gaze and brings you back to him. “Hey, eyes on me.” When you meet his gaze, he instantly reads the fear in your eyes. “Ignore them, they don’t matter. None of them do.”

“I don't know if I can do this,” you look away once more and he brings back your gaze on him by swiftly tilting your chin towards him.

“You can, and you will. Just follow my lead, love.”

You do as he says, your eyes never leaving his, and you find comfort in them. You feel safe, as if some invisible force protected you both. You allow yourself to breathe, your heartbeat finding its cadence once more, and you let yourself be guided by Astarion; his strong hold on you providing the security you didn’t know you longed for. You feel as if the dance could go on for the rest of the night and you would keep going, so long as he kept you close. The sound of hands clapping around you brings you back to reality, and he lets you go to kiss your hand as the dance ends.

“Perfect, as expected.”

“Thank you, that was… nice.” You smile, a true smile, for the first time since you are reunited.

“Would you indulge me in a second dance, then?”

You laugh lightly, “I think that was enough action for tonight.” You sigh, “I need some air before anything else.”

“The courtyard should be just ahead. I’ll finish my round and we can leave for the night afterwards.”

You nod, “That sounds like a plan.”

You head for the large windowed door that leads to a large courtyard, surrounded by a large maze. You take this chance to breathe in the smell of the garden; the earthy, unmistakable scent of the flowers fills your lungs and eases your mind almost instantly. Your senses are so enraptured by the peace the courtyard brings you, that you don’t hear the person sneaking up behind you.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” When you turn around, you recognize the noble as one of the men from the group earlier: the one who practically ignored you. You’re surprised at his size for a high elf; up close, he is much larger than what you recall seeing in the ballroom. You take a few steps back in retreat, prepared to defend yourself, and he raises his hands in sign of peace.

“I swear, I mean no harm.”

“It didn’t feel like it earlier,” you snap at him.

He laughs, “My… colleagues are prompt to act irrationally. I’m proud to say that I’m rather the opposite.”

You lower your defences; you recall seeing him stand passively earlier, uninterested in the conflict. He was not the one you needed to worry about, and you were not dressed to fight, anyway. He sees this as a chance to approach you.

“I was actually hoping you would do me the honour of a dance? It’s the first time I see you at one of those soirées and I must say your beauty caught me off guard.” You chuckle lightly; you knew all about his type, and you were not interested. “Well, thank you, but it’s getting rather late, and I best get going–” As you walk away he grabs hold of your wrist.

“I insist, please. Just one dance.”

You look back to the lively ballroom and when you see no sign of Astarion, you turn back towards the nobleman and sigh in resignation. What’s the harm of one, meaningless dance? Right?

“Alright, just– one dance.”

He smiles and it makes you uneasy; you instantly regret allowing him this proximity with you.

The sooner this is over, the better, you think, as you let him hold you for this dance.

The music is nothing but an echo where you are in the gardens, but it’s loud enough for you both to follow its melody. You can’t believe it, but you’re wishing Astarion was here to take you away from this situation. You try to think about anything else to avoid being in the moment, but when you feel the man’s ragged breath against your neck and his hand going down your waist, you feel your hackles raising in alarm.

“I think that’s enough,” you try to pull away but he forcefully brings you back to him, pressing you hard against his chest.

“But we're not even halfway through this dance.” His hand lowers to grab onto your ass and squeeze it, pushing you against his crotch, and it's with disgust that you feel his bulge against your leg.

“Fuck off!” You push him away and he barely stumbles back before pushing you hard enough to make you lose your balance and fall on your back. He grabs a hold of a knife from his back and holds it to your throat as he towers over you.

“You’re gonna regret that.”

You’re frozen by fear, the knife is held so closely to your throat that when you gulp you feel the blade slightly cut your skin, making you hiss. With his weight on your thighs and the sharpness of the knife, you had no way to counter attack without risking your neck getting sliced open in the process. You feel as if all the air suddenly left your lungs, incapable to fight back as his other hand trails along your leg and up your thighs, lifting the skirt of your dress up in the process and exposing your skin to the cool air. You’re mortified, you want to do something but you’re completely incapacitated, and a weak sob escapes you. His face gets closer to yours and you feel the tears threatening to leave your eyes as he whispers.

“Scream and it’ll be the last thing you do. You wouldn’t want people to see you like this, now, would you?”

You close your eyes when his hand reaches for the band of your panties. You want to be somewhere else, anywhere else. He lets out a disgusting, breathy laugh, “The mighty Lord Ancunín’s reputation would crumble if people knew that his slut got passed around. Can you imagine the scandal? How could anyone want to ally with him when he can’t even get a hold of his bitch.”

“Please,” your voice is but a shaky whisper, “I’m sorry I offended you earlier, just– Let me go, please.”

“Oh, no no, you only get to leave when I’ve had what I want. First, I fuck you, then I fuck up all his alliances. Bastard will have nothing left.”

Just when his hand slips inside your panties, you feel the crushing weight of his body against yours suddenly being lifted and you start breathing again. When you open your eyes, you see him held back with a knife to his throat. That’s when you recognise your partner of the night.

“What the fuck?!” The man says.

“You have no idea how much I want to kill you right now,” Astarion growls. “If you wanna leave this place alive you better go, now. I won’t repeat myself.”

Following those words, Astarion pushes him away from you, down against the ground, only for the man to stumble to his feet and quickly run back to the ballroom without looking back. Once out of sight, Astarion kneels down to you, quickly looking over your shivering form before holding your face softly between his hands.

“Hey, hey – look at me. Where did he hurt you?”

Your lips try to form words, but nothing comes out. Instead, you break down in violent sobs, nesting yourself against Astarion’s chest. He holds you protectively against him for a moment, as if you were made of the most fragile glass, before pulling away to wrap you in his coat and guiding you up and away from this farce of a gathering.

“Let’s get you home, love.”

Halfway starts with happiness for me

Halfway house, lost kitten in the street

Hit me where it hurts, I'm coming home to lose

Kitten on the catwalk, high-heeled shoes

Chapter Text

But if I touch you, would you feel it there?

Could I trust love even if I'm scared?

Oh, I wish I could give like I'm longing to give

Oh, I wish I could live like I'm longing to live

The ride back to the palace is dreadfully quiet, with nothing but the sound of the wheels against the ground as the carriage is being moved around. The night is cold, but you still have Astarion’s coat covering your shivering form and his arm wrapped around you protectively, providing you with a reassuring warmth.

You’re still shaken by what happened and how helpless you were in that moment. Hells, you were strong – maybe not as strong as Karlach – but you were able to hold your own on the battlefield and yet you got overpowered by this poor excuse of a man?

How could this happen? How did you let yourself get in that situation? Despite not wanting to think back on it, you remember what Astarion had told you that first night spent in the cells. Was it true then, that his spying on you assured your security during all those months spent apart? Were you truly as hopeless as he envisioned you? Were you not as strong as you believed yourself to be? And gods damn, how did he manage to capture you so easily back then, and why had you not confronted him about that too?

You’re taken out of your rumination as you reach the crimson palace, and he brings you to your bathroom where he calls for Amedee to prepare a bath before dismissing her to take care of you himself. He opens a drawer filled with the best essential oils the market can offer, taking the time to pick the right one.

He approaches you and tugs at the lace down your waist, which makes you turn abruptly, still anxious from your earlier confrontation. He softly asks, “May I?” and waits until you give him a few nods, unable yet to speak, to undress you with the utmost care. With your outfit now disposed of on the floor, he takes care of removing your jewellery, placing them aside on the nearest table, before letting your hair cascading down your back.

You stand in your most vulnerable state in front of him, with your crossed arms barely covering your chest.

He moves between you and the bath, holding out his hand to help you in, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Come now, love.”

You stare for a few moments at his inviting hand before taking it to help lower yourself in. The relief is almost instant; all the tension in your muscles leaves as you make contact with the warm bath water and the scent of lotus flower hits you all at once, allowing you to relax. He reaches for a sponge that he dips in the bath before pushing your hair aside and lightly scrubs your back and shoulders.

With the silence shared between the two of you, your mind goes back to what happened earlier, replaying the scene in your head over and over again, wondering: what could you have done differently?

In another reality, was there any way for you to avoid what had happened? Deep down, wasn’t this your own fault for voicing an opinion at the wrong time? You could’ve avoided that encounter and that dance outside altogether if you hadn’t spoken just at this moment, you could’ve avoided it if you just kept to yourself for once, Gods dammit, why did you always have to open your damned mouth?!

The emotions overflow you and soon, a sob escapes you; you hate how all of it is making you feel powerless, how this single experience is making you question your whole identity. You hate how it happened so fast, how preventable it all was, but most of all, you hate yourself–

“Shhh, it's okay, you’re alright dear.”

You had almost forgotten about Astarion up until now, his voice yet again grounding you back in the present, bringing you back to safety. You sniffle, trying to calm the tears enough to speak up. Your voice is tainted with a roughness from your previous cries, “Why didn’t you kill him?” You don’t really wanna talk about what happened, but it was unlike him to let someone like this go unharmed.

“There is a time and a place for such things; a ball with the most influential figures of Baldur’s Gate was not it.” He says, dipping the sponge back in the water and squeezing it over your shivering shoulders to bring them some warmth. “Then again, it didn’t stop him from attacking you,” he grunts, “but believe me, I won’t let this bastard get away with this. All in due time.”

He takes a deep breath, bringing your hair back to soak it with the help of a small bucket. The anger in his voice created a strange contrast with the attentive care he offered you.

“How did you know I was hurt?”

“Your blood, dear. I could recognize it from miles away.” You bring your hand to your neck where the knife has been; it had completely slipped your mind that you had been cut. “The second I smelled it I… I expected the worst. I came as quickly as I could.”

A sudden guilt washes over you, thinking back to the previous month. “I don’t understand why you’re doing all of this… I’ve been horrible to you ever since you brought me here.”

“A little, but wouldn’t you say I deserve it?” You hum quietly through your tears and a smile appears on his lips for a just moment. “I wasn’t exactly… gentle, in my approach, but I stand by what I said about wanting what’s best for you. I don’t see why I would go back on my word, now of all time.” He continues, now soaping your hair.

“Even after knowing I would leave eventually?”

“My feelings for you remain the same no matter where you go, darling.”

You nod thoughtfully; he might’ve been terrible in his approach, but he’s also shown countless times how much he cared for you, even after many months apart. It makes you think back to the first discussion you had with him, in the dungeons. “I still can’t believe you had me kidnapped.”

“Can you really blame me?”

You turn around abruptly, almost offended by his question, “Yes? What prevented you from just coming up to me to talk, y’know, like a normal person?”

“Well, to be fair, you had been avoiding me like the sun at the reunion, I wasn’t expecting you to willingly talk to me. You have to understand my side darling; it felt necessary.”

You sigh heavily, leaning back against the wall of the bath, “All of this because you couldn’t move on.”

Your tenacity makes him smile again. There you were: the fighter that he loved, the woman who stood up for herself. “I did really try, if you must know. I wanted to respect your choice to part ways, move on and build my empire with someone who matched my ideals!... And never have to see you again.” His extravagant tone suddenly changes to a serious one, “But I couldn’t bring myself to commit to anyone else. Every time I tried, I would look at them and I could only see… you. You were never afraid to stand up to me, unlike the others.” He chuckles, “You still do.”

You stay silent, taking in his confession, as he washes out your hair before standing up with a clean towel.

“Let’s get you ready for bed, hm?”

You look at him with tired eyes before raising yourself from the water and linking your arms around his neck as he picks you up. You find yourself observing his face for any sign of malice, anything that would tell you that his intentions weren’t pure, and you can’t find any. You’re not sure if it reassures you or terrifies you the most; to know he has been truthful all along and that you outright refused to see it. He lays you down on your bed and moves away to search your wardrobe, looking to find you clothes for the night. As he makes his way towards you with a dark blue satin night robe, you find your voice again.

“I know you said all those things, but you could have anyone else so easily… Someone who doesn’t argue with you constantly…”

He lays the dress at your feet and sits on the edge of the bed. “My sweet, if I wanted someone who blindly agrees to everything I say, I could have anyone. Turn another spawn and choose them as my obedient little puppet. I could have a thousand like them. You, on the other hand, challenge me everyday. No one could ever come close to you, my love.” He sees your eyes looking away, and he reaches for your cheek, stroking it softly. “When I saw you at the reunion for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I wanted nothing but to have you back. I crave you like I crave the sun’s embrace, Gods, I was alive again after hundreds of years and yet, I’ve never felt more alive than by your side.” He drops his hand to take yours, holding it firmly, and you look back at him. “If I could have anyone, I would still want you and only you. If you just let me take care of you, we could be so good together.” His voice is low and deep, it resonates through you, draws you to him. “Isn’t this what you want?”

Your gaze falls down to his hand with yours, avoiding his eyes, and you groan, those conflicting feelings frustrating you. “I don’t know what I want, alright? I–” You trail off, your words escaping you. “When I left you, it’s because I felt you had changed. I thought I had lost you to that ritual, that the man I loved was gone, but now…” Your eyes find his again, and he looks at you with a kindness you missed. When you speak again, your voice is but a whisper. “I don’t know anymore… I spent so long regretting helping you through the rite of ascension, I really thought it had turned you into a monster, I–” You close your eyes and a silent tear streaks down your cheek. “I thought I had lost you.”

He reaches out to wipe it away and you open your eyes to look back at him. “Oh darling, I never left. It was always me, simply better.” His voice is the softest you've ever heard. If you weren’t looking at him when he spoke, you wouldn’t believe the words came from him. “What I did, I did for us. With my powers, I can assure both of us security, forever, and that’s all thanks to you.” He pauses, drawing you closer to him. “You gave me everything. I will spend every day of my eternal life thanking you for it, in every imaginable way. Whatever your heart desires will be yours.”

You hold his stare as much as you can through your stressful blinking. He’s gotten incredibly close to you and you feel your chest rise higher as your breathing quickens, the tension between you two becoming unbearable.

You look into his eyes, and you see it then: there he is, your Astarion. The same vulnerable pale elf you had ventured and shared nights with all these months ago. Under these layers of newly acquired powers was hiding the man you fell in love with, and tonight you had found him, at long last. You let go of a breath you didn’t realise you were holding in and your eyes quickly dart to his mouth, lips still parted from speaking up, and in an instant, your lips meet in a passionate and rough embrace. All the tension, the longing and lusting leaves your chest, pouring into this kiss. Your hands get lost in his hair, pulling him in as he pushes you down against your bed, his hands landing next to your head.

You’re gonna regret that.

Panic settles back into you, the memories flashing back into your mind and you push Astarion away, breaking the kiss suddenly as your breathing quickens and your eyes get lost elsewhere. You’re back in the garden, with the nobleman from the party.

“Darling?”

His weight upon you, the dagger against your throat, his hand sliding up your thighs.

“Love, look at me,” he tilts your head upwards, and you snap out of the flashback, finally back to Astarion. “Hey, it’s me. You’re here. You’re safe.”

You sigh heavily, your breathing coming back to you gradually. The emotions within you are overwhelming; you’re terrified and enraged, yet, with Astarion you’re reassured, you’re content, you’re… in love.

Look at how much he cares for you, you think to yourself. He wishes for nothing but your wellbeing. He wants to be yours, and only wishes for you to be his. Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?

“Do you want to stop?” he asks, worried by your lack of words. “Just say the word and we can end it there.”

You blink quickly, briefly not trusting your vision following the last seconds that happened and your hands sneak their way over his face, caressing his cheeks. The softness of his skin, the surprising warmth emanating from him…

You shake your head; you need this. You need him. “Stay with me…” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I don’t want to be alone… please.”

His hand covers yours, and when you look in his eyes, you see what he's trying to say with unspoken words: anything for you, you have nothing to fear with me, I've got you my love.

As the tears overflow you, you bring him back into you, crashing your lips together. Your kiss is messy, with your tongues dancing with each other, both of you wanting more of the other, your teeth biting and pulling, with his fangs grazing your lips everlightly, drawing out the slightest drops of blood just to have a taste. He groans in your mouth at the taste of your crimson and his hips grind against your leg, pressing his growing erection on you as his carnal lust awakens.

“Gods, I’ve missed you,” he says, with a ragged breath.

You feel as if you were possessed, your arms flying to the helm of his shirt, pulling to free him from this cage that his clothes provided, yearning for his touch that you couldn’t wait any longer to feel. Without breaking contact, he quickly removes the rest of his own clothes and discards the wet towel you were previously wrapped in, revealing your delicate skin underneath. The second both of your clothings are off, you push Astarion down on the bed, climbing over him and pinning him down by his wrists.

“There you are, my little spitfire,” he purrs.

When you see a grin forming over his lips, you can’t help the smile forming on your own lips. You pause to admire him, taking in the sight of his dishevelled hair, the lust in his eyes; you missed this, missed him.

You close the gap between your bodies, laying your forehead against his, and say your next words through a ragged breath, “You have no idea how much I want to ravish you.”

“Take what you need, darling. I want you to have control, to feel like you’re in charge of your own body again. I might not have been able to stop what happened tonight, but I want to be the one who empowers you once again. I want to help you like nobody could for me. Tonight, your word is my command; I am yours.”

To have him at your fingertips, following your every word… His words stir something within you, to see how utterly devoted he is to you makes you want to truly make him yours. You can barely believe the opportunity he’s giving you, given the last time you spoke about the subject was after your visit at moonrise towers. You never had the chance to have another talk about his boundaries, but that was also before he became the vampire ascendant. You take his hands to guide them over your thighs, intending on taking up on his offer, “Touch me.”

“How,” his hands remain still on your thighs. “Don’t be shy now, little love. Tell me exactly what you want.”

You lean over him again, your lips barely apart, and you whisper your next command, “I want your hands to caress my skin.”

His hands start moving over your strong thighs, touching every inch there is to discover.

“Guide me,” he whispers. “I’ll only do what you instruct me to do.”

“Move over to my waist.”

His hands travel higher, sneaking over your hips ever so slightly.

“Where to next?” He hums.

“Up and down my back…” He reaches for the highest point of your back, down to the frontier of your ass, only grazing your cheeks. “I want to feel your nails on my skin.”

His grip on you changes, with his nails now softly scratching over your skin, “Like this?”

You close your eyes, focusing on the sensation. “Mh, harder.” His nails sink into you and you throw your head back as your back arches. “Ah– Just like this…”

Your breasts are now hovering near his face and with each breath you take, they draw closer to his mouth. He could easily cave into his desires and devour you right then and there, but as promised, he waits until you give him his next instruction. Luckily for him, you needed this as much as he did, and neither of you were patient people.

“Now your mouth… over my breast,” you reach out to grab onto his hand scratching your back to put it over your boob. “And squeeze this one.”

As he lifts himself up, his mouth latches on your nipple that he relentlessly sucks on, while his hand massages the one you had guided him to. His fangs lightly scrape over the soft skin of your breast and you softly cry out before giving him your next command.

“Lick your way to my neck,” your voice is but a whisper by now.

Slowly, his mouth leaves your boob and he leaves a faint trail of saliva over your chest as he makes his way to your precious neck. Your hips rock back and forth, only slightly, relishing in the delicious friction you get from his length between your wet folds. Astarion wasn’t going to complain, but he felt like you could take it further, should you desire it.

“If you want something else, you can take it,” he purrs against your neck. “What's mine is yours.”

The temptation to simply take him in was too good to resist, but it’s not something you would allow yourself just yet. The friction it provided over your clit was almost better than having him inside you, and his reaction was even better. Teasing him brought you more satisfaction than you expected and you intended on drawing it out as long as you could. He growled against your neck, only nibbling on your skin there and you could feel how his hips jerked in reaction to your teasing. With your next order on the tip of your tongue, you’re taken aback from the realisation that you wanted this from him. There’s a part of you that’s terrified of what might come out of this, but the rest of your being desires nothing more.

“Bite me.”

He leaves your neck to look into your eyes, not believing the words you had just said. He needed you to say it again, to confirm he didn’t imagine it out of pure madness. That you, the woman he desired most, desired him just as much; just like you used to. Then, when you see the way he looks at you with devilish want, you allow yourself to take what you’ve been wanting for days. You lift yourself up and you position him over your entrance before slamming your hips down, crying out as you take him fully in one thrust. He groans loudly when he enters you, throwing his head back at the feeling and you take this chance to grab his luscious hair and pull back, hard. When he looks back at you, his eyes have gone dark with lust and the thread of control holding him back has gone so thin that it threatens to break at any moment. You repeat your command between two breaths, reasserting your dominance over him.

“Bite… me.”

You guide him towards the spot in your neck where you missed him most before releasing your grip on him. He kisses the spot in the crook of your neck that he knew all too well one last time, finding your pulse and sinking his fangs into your soft skin. As he drinks you in, your mind blanks out, completely lost in the euphoria his bites provided you, and all of a sudden, you’re back at your days spent camping, when this was moreso about necessity, when you gave yourself to him, when you would’ve given him everything. He’s still drinking when the next words slip past your lips between two breaths, completely unaware of the effect they would have.

“Tell me… tell me you love me.”

His teeth leave your skin and he pulls back to look at you, as if he was looking for something you weren’t saying out loud, and if he wasn’t looking at you then, he wouldn’t believe what you had asked of him. Nevertheless, he complies; as he is yours forever more, and you were his for tonight.

“I love you.”

Your half lidded eyes are completely lost in the sight of him with your blood on his mouth, and before you can think about it, your lips are on his, tasting him, tasting yourself, taking everything he has to offer, but also offering yourself to him. You didn’t want to let go, to break the proximity you had longed to share for so long, but the lack of air forces you to pull away. When he looks at you again, you’re stained from your blood, and two fine lines drop from where he bit you.

“I'll take down the moon and stars for you.”

He grabs onto your hips as he begins to thrust upwards, and you let him, too dizzy to think of taking back that control or giving him a new command. He could have the reigns now, you had proved to yourself that you were whole, and this experience brought you even closer to him, the closest you had ever been.

“I'll love you until the world burns down.”

Closer than this and your bodies would fuse together, your minds would meld as one, losing yourself into the other. Ultimately, love, no matter how twisted it had become, had brought you back together against all odds.

“I would burn it down for you if you just asked.”

And you loved him, gods, you hated how much you loved him despite all he had done, despite capturing you to bring you here. You promise yourself that you will bring it up again, make him right his wrongs, force him to–

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

One of his hands finds its way to the back of your neck, cradling you closer to kiss your skin between each declaration, and it pushes aside any thoughts you previously had. He repeats himself with a ragged breath, and each time he tells you he loves you, it's with more and more conviction. His pace gets more frantic as he lets himself come undone for you.

“Love… I’m close…” He says, panting.

You pull him into another kiss, knowing you’re nearing the edge of ecstasy too and you’re reaching for any more contact you could have. You couldn’t care for words anymore, but you knew what you wanted, and you would take it, regardless of what he had done in the past. For tonight, you forgave him, and you accepted this form of apology from him.

“Fuck, ah–”

Feeling him shooting his hot seed inside of you is your unbecoming. With a few more strokes, along with his cock twitching inside of you, you finally go over the edge. As the world becomes silent, you scream in pleasure, finally letting go of all those feelings you had bottled up over the last few days. The build up in your belly reaches your heart, and there’s something of an explosion in your chest, fireworks in your head, and you see stars for a mere moment. When you come down from your high, you let yourself fall over him, completely spent, with your head hiding in the crook of his neck.

You stay like this for a while, with him still inside you and you resting on top of him, allowing yourself to catch your breath, and he holds you close as if you were but a fleeting image that was going to vanish, but by now, you had no intention of leaving.

The way he strokes your hair aside so casually makes you yearn for more of it. It feels so intimate, the tenderness of it all making you feel as if you had never been apart, not for an instant.

“So much for getting you clean earlier, mh?” You laugh quietly in the crook of his neck; had you known the night was going to take such a turn, maybe you would’ve waited before taking that bath. “Now, let me take care of you, the way you deserve it.”

You groan, too tired to care about getting clean, and when he sees that you had no intention of getting up, he lifts you up himself to carry you to your bath. He calls on Amedee once again to get new warm water, and this time he hops in the bath with you to clean you up. You hum, content with the way he cared for you so dearly, and once you’re both clean, he takes you out of your bath to dry you up. He carries you back to bed where he tucks you in and the moment he turns to leave you stop him.

“Stay with me tonight.”

“Eager for more, are we?”

“My word is your command – remember? Stay.”

Your words are direct, but your voice is soft and your eyes are almost pleading with him; he can’t find it in himself to refuse you. As he joins you in bed, you hold him close, resting your head over his chest once again, and you let yourself be lulled to sleep by the unfamiliar sound of his calm heartbeat, along with the crackling of the fireplace.

Can I move you? Can I soothe your fear?

Could you trust love, if I prove it's there?

Chapter Text

He says, "Ooh, baby girl, you know we're gonna be legends

I'm the king, and you're the queen, and we will stumble through heaven

If there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes

I know you wanna go to heaven, but you're human tonight"

You’re taken out of your deep slumber by the sun’s brightness shining upon your face. You turn away, hiding your eyes from the blinding light to enjoy a few more minutes of rest, when a warm, honeyed voice greets you.

“Good morning, little love. Had a good night of sleep?”

You hum, your voice dozy from sleep, while he strokes your hair, and you find yourself snuggling closer to him as you press your forehead gently against his thigh. His warmth was always surprising, but not unwelcome.

“Would you care for breakfast?” he continues.

You grumble, pulling the bed sheets over your head. “Do I have to? I’d rather stay in bed if I have a say in the matter.”

He smiles, “That can be arranged.”

You raise your head when you realise he hasn't moved, unsure if he's waiting for your response and instead, you find him with his eyes closed and brows furrowed. He opens them again after a moment and meets your gaze once more.

“There. Shouldn’t be long now.”

You sit up, puzzled by what just happened, but he’s quick to reply to your unspoken interrogation.

“A master holds a telepathic connection with his creations, and this bond can hold between great distances.” You suddenly remember the encounter you had with Astarion’s siblings back then; how the spawn twisted in pain when it received Cazador’s orders and Astarion notices your worry. “It doesn’t hurt them, if that’s your concern.”

“It didn’t look that way the last time I witnessed it,” You bring your knees to your chest as you sit up, before covering yourself with the light silk bed sheet.

“That’s because Cazador enjoyed to torture us, and unlike him, I’m no monster. I would expect you to know me better than that by now.”

It’s true, he never mistreated his spawns, not in your presence anyway, and Amedee even mentioned how well she was treated since she had become his servant. You had no reason to believe otherwise, aside from your own lingering preconceptions.

As you think of her, Amedee enters your room with a prompt salutation, carrying along a golden platter of food that she leaves at the end of your bed. You could tell she was embarrassed despite the lack of pink in her cheeks, as she struggled to look at you and quickly left after Astarion dismissed her. If she had only looked up to you, she would’ve seen the grin that appeared on your face from this brief interaction. Once she leaves, Astarion brings the plate up to you.

“Ask and you shall receive.”

The plate is generously filled with a variety of fruits, cheeses, and meats, along with freshly baked bread slices to pair with them. By the amount displayed, you would assume that the plate is meant to be shared, but Astarion doesn’t indulge. Instead, he waits for you to serve yourself.

You’re overwhelmed by the vast selection and hesitate before reaching out to make a pick or your first bite; you settle on a bit of dried meat and cheese, their aromas complementing each other perfectly. You close your eyes as you savour the rich flavours on your tongue; although you still had no intention of getting up anytime soon, you were thankful for the breakfast.

Astarion smiles, happy to see you eat to your heart’s desire, and he leans back on the stack of pillows, admiring you.

In truth, you’re extremely grateful for everything he’s done for you, especially with what happened the day prior, and you want to express it, but somehow you struggle to get the words out. You can’t find the right words, and you don’t want to risk breaking the comfort you have just managed to create with him, after so many days of hatred and tension.

You open your mouth once, and twice, without a single sound coming out, and you think, maybe I should let it go, maybe if I say nothing it’ll be better than saying anything at all. Maybe if we don’t talk about it, then I can pretend this dreaded ball never happened.

“What troubles you my dear?”

Well, now you can’t.

You sigh heavily, getting ready to finally pour your heart out to him.

“I’ve been meaning to thank you. For yesterday, after the ball. After what happened, I was… I’m not even sure. It’s always something you hear happen to others, I never would have imagined it happening… to me.” You feel yourself spacing out again into the events and you snap out of focus to find Astarion staring back at you earnestly. “I’m just glad that you were there to stop him, is what I’m trying to say.”

“Had I known the bastard would’ve followed you out, I would’ve gone with you into the gardens. All I can do now is assure that he will never get close to you again.”

“Wait so– You know him?”

“That was Sir Virric Othros. He’s a merchant noble, he deals directly with the economy in Baldur’s Gate. The two other men from the ball, the ones you confronted?” You nod, awaiting more information. “Those were his business partners. Pretentious little shits if you ask me. I know they don't particularly appreciate me, arseholes will bad mouth me at any chance they get. Usually I would let it slide, I don’t have time to deal with petty comments, but attacking you draws the line,” he says, now frowning.

“That checks out, they were doing exactly that when I spoke up in the ballroom, but then I don’t know how his business relates to yours and why he would want to take you down.”

His gaze snaps back at you, “What?”

“That’s… the reason he attacked me. He meant to use me against you.”

He looks away, his eyes flicking left and right, searching his mind for a solution to a problem he couldn’t solve and when his eyes fall back on you, they are filled with a darkness that sends a shiver down your spine. “You can’t leave this palace, do you hear me?”

“What?! Why?”

“Don’t you realise what this implies?” He gets up and picks up his clothing from the previous night to dress himself back up in a rush. “If these people have it in their mind to take me down, they won’t stop until they get what they want. We don’t know who they hired, if they already have something else planned–”

“I can defend myself!”

“Like you did so wonderfully at the ball?” He catches your frown as you avert your eyes, resigned from answering back and he sighs remorsefully. He leans closer as he settles back on the bed, drawing your gaze back to him.

“You might be the strongest woman I know, but they’re vile, they won't fight fair, and they won't hesitate to use underhanded means to get what they want. I cannot risk having you out with a target on your back, the only place I can assure you will be safe is here, in the palace.”

You blink a few times and your eyes light up as a sudden thought crosses your mind, “Then let’s take them down first.”

He scoffs, “Darling, I’m not against the idea, but I can hardly see how. We are talking about nobles amongst the most influential of Baldur’s Gate, their disappearance won’t go unnoticed.”

“We could say that they got abducted? Disappeared without a trace, somehow, I don’t know, but we’ll find something, we need to get rid of them. If they’re that dangerous and influential, prison won’t cut it.” You glare into his eyes trying to convey your devotion. “We need to take them out ourselves. And I will kill this Virric myself.”

Astarion can see the anger burning in your eyes as he stares back at you with the same intensity; for the first time since his ascension, you’re both thinking of the same thing. He gets back up, grabbing the remaining discarded clothes from the previous night before heading for the door. “Get dressed and meet me in my office. I might have an idea.”

By the time you get to Astarion’s office, he’s already completely immersed in a world of his own, shifting between multiple pieces of papers that populated his desk. You had never taken the time to visit his personal rooms, you’re surprised to see his office filled with books on various topics, but you notice a recurring theme around necromancy, vampires and their powers, and nobility in Baldur’s Gate. Astarion only notices you minutes after you’ve entered, lifting his head to see you approach him.

“For this to work, we would need to attack them somewhere we have control over – the crimson palace, obviously – so I will be hosting a soiree, this way they are within reach and we can deal with them however we see fit. We can work out the details as we go, but it should cover the essentials: lure them here without suspicion, and allow us to proceed under cover.”

Ever the planner. Some things never change, you think to yourself. “Luring them here won’t be enough, we also need to lure them away from the party, where we can deal with them personally.”

“That should be easy enough; if they notice you before you walk away from the rest of the guests, they should take the bait and follow you. They wouldn’t be smart enough to catch on to the trap we lay out, and I could follow them to you, make sure you’re safe.”

You raise your eyebrow at him, “Having the host disappear into the darkness with a few guests and come back out alone? That’s one way to raise suspicions instantly.”

“Well then little soldier, you were always the most intricate strategist, what would you suggest?”

“We need you to be visible at all times, no one can suspect you to be in on this, otherwise we’ll have much bigger problems to worry about. As for me, no one has seen my face yet, but everyone has seen me dance with you at the last ball. I can’t be seen at all during the soiree. You’ll tell the guests I’m sick and cannot attend, and meanwhile I’ll hide in the shadows until the time is right to lure them away.”

He hums, reflecting upon your idea. “Not bad… But then once alone with them, what will you do?”

“If I hide a weapon beneath my dress, I should be able to take care of two of them easily, but three might be tricky. Plus, they’ll probably be armed, as they were last time.”

“I could send you reinforcements. I would just need your signal to have my children come to help.”

You shake your head; something is missing. “We would need to be able to communicate through the party.” You sigh. “I never thought I’d say this, but the tadpoles would’ve been really useful in this scenario.”

“Well…” He pauses. “There is a way to do this without involving those parasites.”

“Which is?” He tilts his head to show the bite marks on his neck and the realisation dawns on you, “You would need to turn me…”

He moves away from his desk, slowly approaching you, “We would be able to talk to each other no matter the distance and without raising suspicions. You would be stronger, swifter, sharper, and any injury you would receive – should you get hurt – would be healed in a matter of seconds.” He reaches you and tilts your chin up to meet your eyes, almost whispering, “You would become untouchable.”

You gulp, as a knot in your throat builds up. There had to be another way, something else that could provide you a way to communicate somehow. You curse yourself for lacking any magical abilities; maybe then you wouldn’t have to resort to such extremes.

“I want to share this gift with you.” He continues as he grabs a hold of your hand. “I’ve only been wanting the best for you, my love. With this strength, no one will dare to take advantage of you. You’ll never have to fear anyone, ever again. Neither of us will. We will be unstoppable, as we should’ve always been.”

When he offered to make you his consort six months ago, you turned him down immediately, almost disgusted by the offer.

How ironic for you to consider it now.

You can only imagine what your life would’ve looked like had you accepted back then: if it had been anything like these past weeks, you would've had nothing less of a lavish life. Endless parties, custom clothes, all the perfume and jewels you could imagine, and all the attention from the man you loved.

As a vampire, you would’ve had the strength to defeat anyone foolish enough to even try to come close to you. You would be able to assist Astarion in helping to rebuild Baldur’s Gate and take down corrupted nobles, as Gods only know how rotten those roots seem to be. Chances are, with your added influence as the saviour of the city, the rebuilding efforts might’ve been further done by now, maybe more nobles would have joined your side and funded the repairs.

You wouldn’t have had to travel from one city to another in search of a bed or even company for the night, living comfortably within the walls of the palace besides Astarion.

Lady Ancunín did have a nice ring to it, too...

“If I’m to do this… what will change? Aside from the red eyes and fangs.” It was your biggest fear, to become something you were not.

“You’ll still be you, only better. You’re already perfect, it’s hard to improve.” He senses your incertitude and brings back your eyes to him.

“You don’t need to make a decision tonight, no invitations have been sent out yet. You can take all the time you need to think this through. I’ll be by your side no matter what.” He softly strokes your cheek with the back of his hand. “I only care about what’s best for you”

It’s a truth you’ve been denying yourself for too long now, and the signs have only piled up since you’ve been back in his world, but you kept ignoring them, too proud to accept that you had been wrong to leave him. You sigh heavily, letting go of any lingering anxiety about your decision.

“If we’re doing this, I have demands,” your voice is stern, asserting the gravity of your words.

“Anything you wish,” he smiles playfully.

“I know you can have control over your spawn. I don’t give you the right to force me to do anything, ever. I mean it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

His tone suggests otherwise, but you carry on, “I want to be properly fed. No starving tactics to manipulate me in any way.” He nods and you continue, “And finally,” you take a deep breath, as the angst builds up in your chest, “I don’t want to become a ruthless monster. Please stay by my side, help me, guide me.”

“Of course my love, that goes without asking,” his gaze softens, “I’ll guide you through every step of the way.”

You sigh heavily, relived by his promise, “Then it’s settled. I don’t want to waste more time discussing the matter, my mind is made up.” Your eyes wear a new shade of confidence, “I trust you.”

“Thank you, my love,” he smiles softly. “I want this experience to be most pleasurable for you. It’ll be nothing like what I experienced, I'll make sure of that.”

His words reassure you for the time being, but the uncertainty of what to expect creates a lingering anxiety in your chest. To prevent yourself from spending more time chasing those thoughts away, you make a proposition.

“We should do it tonight.”

“Eager, aren’t we?” He teases you.

“The faster it’s done, the faster we can carry on with our plan.”

“And I won’t be the one opposing you, my dear.” He walks back behind his desk where he gets started on arranging the papers he had previously scattered around. “I’ll call for the servants to prepare dinner. Do you have any requests for your last meal?” A memory suddenly flashes before your eyes and you know exactly what you want.

“Yes actually. Balduran Mash.”

After experiencing the most bittersweet dinner of your life, you sought solace in the gardens, enjoying the last hours of sunlight, the feeling of the sun's warmth over your skin, before going back to your room to change into your nightgown for the evening, pondering about how tonight was going to go. You never thought this day would come, and yet, here you were, sitting at your vanity, looking back at your reflection for the last time. By the time you wake up tomorrow, you will be a vampire. Undead.

One of Astarion’s spawns.

The thought still sits uneasy with you, even though you know it’s necessary to see this plan unfold. You will do anything to make it happen; you would rather die than let this Sir Virric get away with what he had done to you.

It’ll all be worth it, you think, and Astarion promised it would bring me protection. It truly is for the greater good.

As you think about his words, Astarion knocks at your door before entering your room. For the first time, you see him wear his casual clothes, similar to those he used to wear when you camped together. He approaches you at your vanity, stopping right behind where you sat.

“Having second thoughts, little love?’ He lays his hands upon your shoulders and you look back at his reflection in your mirror.

You sigh heavily. Even if you did have doubts, you couldn’t let fear cloud your judgement. “No. I need to do this.” You look back to your own reflection, your resolve coming back to you. “There’s no other choice.”

“Good.” He lowers his head next to your ear, murmuring. “Are you ready to experience your final night alive?”

A shiver runs down your spine as you feel his hot breath against your skin. “Yes.”

“Then follow me,” you spy the wicked smile appearing on his lips as he whispers, before he straightens up. He extends his hand out to you as an invitation for you to follow him, and you rise from your seat as you take him up on his offer.

You would lie to yourself if you said you weren’t terrified. It’s as if your heart was stuck in your throat, and your mind was racing from one thought to another. You stop in your tracks as you near the bed and Astarion turns back to you when he notices your hesitation, “Is something the matter, my dear?”

So many things, and yet you struggle to find which one to mention first. “Will it hurt?” When you speak, your voice is barely audible, as if voicing those words with a quiet voice made them less real as you considered them.

“I promise, the pleasure will be far greater than the pain,” he purrs, caressing your cheek, and you close your eyes at the contact, breathing in deeply. “You trust me, don't you?” You open your eyes back up to find him staring lovingly at you and you nod, “Then you have nothing to fear.”

His hand gets lost in your hair as he pulls you into a deep kiss, and it's as if all the air gets pulled out of your lungs. He grasps your waist roughly, his nails digging through your silk nightgown, and a soft moan escapes you. As you break the kiss gasping for air, his lips trail down to your neck, leaving a path of kisses in its wake. When you breathe in, you’re hit with the intoxicating smell of bergamot, rosemary, and brandy, and you find yourself leaning into him, dizzy from his essence.

His hands make their way to your shoulders, lightly grazing your skin there as he pushes away the straps of your nightgown. Your nightclothes are quickly discarded, as the silk easily slides off from your body to your feet, leaving you bare before him. Your chest rises with anticipation at each breath you take, longing for his touch, and yet you remain still – awaiting his next move.

As he lifts your chin, your eyes lock with his, and your lips part in anticipation of tasting him once more. He hovers close, murmuring softly, his breath just a whisper away from your mouth.

“You are a vision, my love.”

He leans next to your ear, his hot breath creating a warmth pooling at the bottom of your belly.

“Absolute perfection, ethereal beauty.”

The back of his hand slides along your arm, down to your hand that he brings to his cheek, kissing your skin ever softly.

“And you will be, forever.”

When he faces you again, your eyes are filled with lust and you can’t contain the hunger growing at your core. You close the gap between the two of you in an instant, devouring him, and your hands fall to his trousers, fumbling to remove them. Astarion growls into the kiss as you rip open his shirt, not caring for the buttons breaking apart in the process.

With his clothes out of the way, he lifts you up to bring you to bed, laying you underneath him all the while continuing to give you the attention you deserve.

“Gods, I wanna devour you.”

Astarion wastes no time to lavish every inch of your skin, starting with your navel, licking and kissing his way down to your thighs, worshipping you as he leaves love bites on his trail. He props your legs up on his shoulder as his mouth bites the soft skin of your thighs, only drawing out the slightest drop of blood, and you grab the bedsheets trying to get a hold of yourself through his teasing. He laps at the fresh wounds to clean it and lets his tongue find its way to your entrance, giving it one long lick while his eyes look for yours.

He tastes your juices on his lips, smirking at you. “Still just as delicious as the first time I tasted you.”

He keeps playfully licking you, barely grazing over your neglected clit, and you squirm under him, until he grabs your thighs strongly, keeping you grounded against his face. You try to move from his grasp, but it's useless; you are nowhere near as strong as him, you would have to take whatever he would have the mercy to give you. He bites down deeper into your other thigh, savouring the richness of your blood, and you gasp. You didn't expect it, but the pain quickly turned into pleasure and you were delighted by the sensation. He pulls away soon after and you whine, pleading for more.

“Yes, my treasure?” The words roll deliciously on his tongue, only teasing you further and you groan, frustrated.

“Please.”

“If you want something, you’ll have to use your words,” he purrs seductively. “Please what?”

“Please…” you take a few breaths, trying to compose yourself. You can hide your desperation for his attention anymore, not after all those days you’ve been craving him. That time in the hallway when you wanted nothing more than to kiss him, when you danced together and the proximity was stifling you, how his words disarmed you, made you want him in the most depraved ways, how you made him yours last night… You want him. “Please, I need you, Astarion.”

He grins with your blood tainting his lips, “Anything for my precious pet.”

He dives into your cunt, devouring you as if you were his first meal in days and you can’t control the loud moan that escapes you. He laps at your entrance, drinking your juices as he did your blood, without wasting a single drop of your precious nectar.

When he judges that your pussy had enough, he moves to your clit, giving it the attention it so badly craved. His lips cover it, allowing him to suck gently over your sweet spot, and that’s when you start to feel it, the build up within you nearing its peak. You chant his name like a prayer, each time speaking it louder, until you feel yourself reaching your edge. You try your best to muffle the sounds coming out of you, but Astarion would not allow it.

He stops, for just a moment, just long enough for you to look back at him and wonder why he would torture you so and stop when you were so close.

“Don’t be shy, my sweet. I love the way you scream my name.”

As his nails dig painfully into your thighs, and his tongue dives back to abuse your sensitive bud, you feel the waves of your climax hit you all at once. The scream that leaves your lips is otherworldly, and you get lost in the feeling as your back arches into the mattress. The world around you vanishes and you see stars as your body still rides the aftershake of your orgasm, your breathing barely able to keep up. As you’re coming down from your high, Astarion kisses his way back up, making sure to leave additional bites on his way; noticeably one nicely placed over the curve of your breast.

You finally look down to find him looking back at you, with his mouth covered in a mix of your come and blood.

He speaks with a husky voice, his half-lidded eyes lost in yours. “You have no idea how much I want you.”

You manage to mumble a few words through your exhaustion, “Then show me.”

Without breaking eye contact, he moves down just enough to slide his hard length down your navel and between your folds, moving to get himself wet from you. At this angle, his shaft created a delicious friction against your clit that made you cry out louder from the overstimulation. He doesn’t torture you for much longer, as he whispers in your ear, before giving you exactly what you need.

“Sing for me, my treasure.”

He slides inside you with one powerful thrust, making you scream again and your hands fly to his back, searching to ground yourself. When he picks up a languid rhythm, your nails dig into his skin, scratching near his scars and he lets out a feral growl before grabbing your wrist and pinning you roughly against the bed.

“All these months, I couldn't stop myself from thinking about you; your voice, your skin, your delicious cunt. I'll never make the mistake of letting you leave. Ever. Again.” He pounds into you harder, pausing as he speaks these last words, and something clicks inside of you as you hear the possessiveness in his hoarse voice. If it had been anyone else you would’ve wanted to speak up, but when said by him, right now, you wanted nothing but to comply.

“Do you have any idea of the things I’ve been wanting to do to you these last few days? Fuck, the thoughts that crossed my mind… How I’ve wanted to bend you over that dining table and overfill you with my come, having you dripping from me for days to remind you who you belong to, my dearest consort, mmh–” He picks up the pace, ramming into your cunt deeper, hitting that spot that made you see stars, “If it was only up to me, I would keep you chained to this bed and breed you, over and over again.” He laps at the spot he used to feed on you, the warmth it left on your skin, along with his depraved speech, only pushed you closer and closer to your second collapse. “How beautiful you would look, marked as mine with my bites and my come, mine to please, mine to own. Isn't this what you want?” His lips graze the shell of your ear and he whispers, “To be mine?”

Your mind is clouded by lust and all you can think about is how good he makes you feel, how great he’s been taking care of you, and hells, you really do, you want nothing more than to be his, and his only. Let him own you, use you.

As much as you loathed him previously, you can’t help but admit to yourself that you’ve longed for him and his attention, his touch, his kiss, everything he had to offer and everything he’s been wanting to share with you. You always loved him, the only thing those several months spent apart did for you was affirming this truth, and now that you were finally back together, you couldn’t deny it any longer.

Yes, I’ll stay with you, I’ll be yours, I’ll be everything you want me to be, I’ll love you until the world ends, you want to say, but only three words leave your lips in a whisper:

“Make me yours.”

A smile creeps up on his lips at your words, and he bites down on your exposed neck through the markings he had previously left, drinking you in like a starved man as he resumes his thrusts into you. Gods, you missed this, missed him, missed how he made you feel, missed how good you two were together. His drinking on you always acted like an aphrodisiac; it made you see the brightest of stars, made you feel like your entire body was frozen only to be burning with desire moments after, as pure fire was coursing through your veins. You knew that following his bite, you were only moments away to feel the waves of pleasure over you.

The vibration from Astarion’s growls against your neck as he drank only contributed more to your end. All it took was another sip from him and you were hit with the strongest of thunders, screaming once again as your body trembled with the aftershock, almost completely taking you out. The waves of your release rippled through your body, your heart pounding in your chest as if it was gonna burst out. If it wasn’t for Astarion savagely fucking you, you think you would have passed out by the strength of your orgasm.

You were feeling more drained than usual, dizzy, even. That’s when you notice your lover still latching onto you. Instinctively, you try to stop him but his grip on your wrist pins you down with no way to move out, and that’s when it all comes back to you. He was going to kill you, turn you into a vampire, make you his dark consort.

You feel yourself getting colder and colder, his grip on your wrists tightening, leaving you with your last bruises. Your world grows dark and a tear streams from your eye as they get shut tightly. Nothing hurts anymore: not the fangs in your neck, not his hands holding your wrists down, not his weight upon you.

This was for the greater good, to make you better, make you stronger, keep you safe. You trusted him, and you would welcome this new life he offers you. You wouldn’t be afraid of anyone ever again.

In your last seconds of consciousness, you use what you have left of your remaining lifeforce to try and whisper his name, as a thank you for caring, thank you for everything, please help me through this, please never leave my side, A–…

“Star…”

I love you.

And you did, until your very last breath.

He says, "Ooh, baby girl, don't get cut on my edges

I'm the king of everything and oh, my tongue is a weapon

There's a light in the crack that's separating your thighs

And if you wanna go to heaven, you should fuck me tonight

Chapter Text

I was given a heart before I was given a mind

A thirst for pleasure and war, a hunger we keep inside

We fell from sky with grace, and life gave us a sweeter taste

You can drink, you can feast

There's beauty in your beast

Pain.

Raw, gut-wrenching, agonising pain.

Your awakening into your undead life is nothing like your last moments alive. Where your death had been bliss, lulled to eternal sleep as you were still basking in the aftermath of your climax, your rebirth is violent. Every bone in your body hurts as you suddenly regain consciousness, not with a new breath, but rather a monstrous hunger. Your vision is red, and there’s a faint metallic aftertaste in your mouth that you yearn for, as a churning in your stomach makes you twist in agony. It’s even worse than what you had gone through during the days spent in your cell; claws ripping you from within, an urge to devour anything and everything on your path, a never ending pit inside you, it’s–

“Shh, you’re alright my love. There, there, drink.”

Someone’s arm surrounds your shoulders, keeping you sat, as a cup is brought to your lips, and you do just as the voice commands; drink, until there's not one drop left. You go through its contents as if it was the air you needed to breathe. Whatever it is, you want more. You need more. It’s barely enough to keep the pain at bay, lest satisfy your hunger. The air around you is suffocating you; you need to get out, need to fix the pain. You fight through the hold the person has on you, as you muster a rough “more”.

“Aren't you a hungry little pet?” The voice speaks up again, less distant than it was before your first drink. “Hm, I suppose you deserve it for going through this. You've been so very brave.”

He turns around to fill the cup once more, and as you force yourself to take a deep breath, you smell the unmistakable scent of bergamot, rosemary, and brandy. The aroma brings you a familiar comfort, and you don’t know what it is about the voice, but it soothes you. Even though you can’t quite put a name on it yet, you feel secure, and you stop fighting the man’s embrace. When you’re finally calm, he brings another cup to your lips, only to pull it away when you try to grab it.

“Ah ah! Careful now, this is your last one for the time being. You'll have to learn to control yourself.”

You growl as you reach for the cup, violently gulping as you drain it dry and lick your lips for any remains of the cup’s content. Although the cup felt big in your hands, it also felt as if it was barely filled. You drank the liquid in mere seconds and, surprisingly enough, it was all you needed to ease the unbearable pain you woke up in. The world gets clearer, the ringing in your ears tones down; you’re finally able to make out where you are and who’s holding you.

Your beloved, your Lord, your creator.

You’re glad to see that, as promised, he stayed by your side, and he’s taken care of feeding you. With you calm at last, Astarion takes the empty cup from your hand to leave it on your nightstand, before bringing his attention back to you.

“How is my precious consort faring?”

“I… I’m fine now,” you clutch down at your stomach, noticing that the hunger was gone as fast as it appeared. “Thank you.”

“Of course, little love.” He smiles down at you. “And It’ll only get better, I promise.” He kisses the top of your head before you lay your head against his chest, still wrapped between his arms, as he strokes your hair. “Try to rest for now, you'll need all the strength you can get.” His voice sounds like a lullaby, a soft melody that brings you the warmth you had lost within.

Someone knocks at the door, and you can’t quite make out what they say in a rush – something about a shipment – or even who they are, but they sound alarmed. They didn’t even bother to wait for an answer before barging into your room. Whatever he says has Astarion pull away from you too soon, leaving you alone in bed in a disgruntled state; barely covered by the satin night dress you wore the night before, with your messy hair all over the place and blood tainting your chin.

“I need to attend to some matters that I’m afraid I can’t leave unchecked, I’ll do my best to take care of it as fast as possible.” He says, his tone back to its cold, methodical self, as he stands in front of your mirror, straightening his jacket and fixing his hair, making sure the reflection before him was the depiction of perfection, before turning to you. “Can I trust you to be on your best behaviour?”

You frown in disbelief before turning your gaze away from him, pensive.

He’s already leaving. He promised…

He walks back towards you, noticing your disappointment, and bends over the bed to take your chin between his fingers. He brings you closer to him once more and wipes away the blood remaining at the corner of your lips with his thumb.

“Come on now, my treasure. Don’t you want to be wonderfully obedient for me? I promise, I will be back before supper.”

There was something about the way he looked at you, the way his voice resonated in your mind long after he stopped talking, how he held you just right. Something about being his; body and soul. He knew just how to act towards you to make you surrender to him. Your walls break down and you nod, caving into his demands. You trusted him enough to take your life, you could extend your trust a bit more, he’s not going to abandon you now, right?

He licks his thumbs, tasting the leftover blood and hums. “That’s my girl.”

As his hand sneaks into the base of your hair to pull you into him, you part your lips to welcome his lips embracing yours. He lightly pulls at your hair to tilt your head, deepening the kiss, and you melt into his embrace. Should you still have the need to breathe, the air would’ve left your lungs in this instant. He parts from you, admiring the state he put you in one last time as a smirk appears on his lips, before leaving your room without another word. Supper was hours away still, so this would give you time to do anything you wanted, and you were free to roam the palace after all – it was as much his as it was yours now – and with your new nature, you couldn’t risk going outside with the blazing sun, unless you wanted an awfully painful death.

You quickly pick and put on a casual dress from your wardrobe for the day and start your research within the palace. As expected, the kitchen only has food meant for the living. All of it extorted disgust out of you now, the smell alone made you retch, putting an end to your search of this part of the building almost as soon as it started. You walk down the hallways, opening any door that wasn't locked to give it a peak, out of the mere chance that it contains anything remotely interesting for you to discover, only to be faced with empty rooms, for the most part. To your despair, all things that could’ve been worth your attention were locked and out of reach behind a single door that remained locked. When you ask Amedee about it, she only mentions that, “some places are only meant for the Master’s eyes''. You don't notice the day go by as you search every nook and cranny of the palace waiting for Astarion’s return; from the biggest room to the lowest dungeons. You have never been more frustrated as your search ended, tired and anxious, and with nothing to speak for it.

When you go back to your room, defeated, you notice the sun had set, and yet, Astarion was still nowhere to be seen. On your very first day as a vampire, in the very first instant of your transformation, he left you to fend for yourself, breaking one of the only three rules you had instated. A familiar impulsive idea crosses your mind, and without the Lord of the house to stop you, you pick a dark cape, along with some gold from his office and leave for the nearest tavern. This is where you would drink away your pain back in your living days, the thought of experiencing this again is comforting after the day you had.

“My Lady? Where are you going?”

As you make your way to the exit, your personal servant intercepts you.

“It would be better for you not to get involved, Amedee.” You keep walking until she moves in front of you, blocking your path.

“Far be it from me to contradict you, but the Master explicitly requested for you not to leave the palace!”

“I’ll follow the Master’s demands when he respects mine!” You push her aside to make it to the door when she grabs your wrist, stopping you right before the door.

“I would really advise you against it please–!”

When you look back at her, it’s with a boiling anger in your eyes, an anger that should be directed towards Astarion, you remind yourself, not her. She’s just following his orders, you tell yourself, preventing yourself from acting irrationally towards her.

“Amedee, I don't want to hurt you. Let me go, now.” Your words are gentle, but your voice sounds like a warning.

She looks at you with eyes pleading with you to stay, “I’m sorry my Lady, but I can’t let you go. He ordered it.” Her grip on you tightens and you understand the implication of her words. As much as you had appreciated her recent company, it was going to take you more to stop you from falling back into your old habits.

“I’m sorry too.”

Before she can react, you flip your arm around, making her twist in pain, before knocking the back of her head with your elbow, effectively knocking her unconscious. You look at Amedee with a pain in your chest, before walking out, slamming the door on your way out.

You had no intention of following anyone’s orders.

The tavern you reach is filled with mostly men, of all ages and all races, and in the past, chances are you would’ve bedded one – or a few – of them after a couple of drinks, but that wasn’t your goal this time. Your intention tonight is to get wasted, absolutely and utterly hammered, and you don't intend on leaving until you can’t walk properly; this was always your go-to to deal with high emotions, and it's not death that was going to change your ways. What you didn’t yet know was that your new vampiric powers made you unable to get inebriated. Not on alcohol, anyway. So you drink – for almost an hour – and the more you take, the worse it tastes, but you feel absolutely nothing. That’s until a charming, young tiefling approaches you.

“Let me offer you something more convenient for a lady like you.”

He smelled delicious.

Your bitter attitude quickly makes place for a pleasant smile, “What would you suggest?”

“How about some plum wine?” He orders two cups for the both of you and cheers before taking a first sip. You imitate the gesture only to grimace behind your cup. Just like the previous beers you’ve had, this drink is simply sour. Nothing would ever taste good anymore. Nothing, aside from whatever this tiefling had on him, Gods, the smell was simply intoxicating. It was almost unbearable to keep drinking this piss for wine when he was right there, hiding away that sweet nectar from you.

That’s when you get an idea. A terrible one.

“This is… nice, but I’m more the kind of girl who enjoys stronger drinks.”

“Oh? Is that so?” He leans closer to you. “Tell me, what’s your poison of choice?”

“Only if you promise to share a bottle with me.” Your voice is lustful and your hand easily finds its way on his thigh.

He smiles lustfully, “I think I might be tempted.”

You’re surprised by your ease to charm the man. You might’ve bedded countless strangers in the past, it usually took you at least two bottles of wine to get touchy with strangers, let alone get near them at all. This realisation gives you a sudden confidence boost and you find yourself getting closer to the tiefling, and open up your cape to reveal the plunging neckline of your dress which highlights your generous chest. You know your action has the desired effect when you notice him biting his lower lip at the sight of your breasts, unable to look elsewhere.

With the man now completely enchanted by you, you take a step further to secure your catch of the night. You order “the strongest drink you have” from the server, and you start drinking along. As the bottle gets close to empty, the tiefling grows more and more inebriated, while you are as fresh as the moment you stepped in. With the bottle almost empty, you throw some gold over the counter and whisper in his ear “let’s take this party somewhere else”, before grabbing him by the wrist to guide him out of the tavern. You don’t make it that far, as your thirst was guiding your every step and it was only growing stronger.

At the next corner, you pull him into an alley far from any scurrying eyes and abruptly pin him to the wall with your newfound strength.

His eyes widened in surprise, “Hells lady, I didn’t take you for a woman of experience.”

Poor guy, if only he knew.

He was barely able to hold his own weight, he looked downright pathetic next to a creature of such power as you. You take one, long sniff at him, taking in his aroma; he smells of plum, peaches, and bergamot, and unlike the food from earlier that reeked, the fruity notes he wore were as pleasant as you remember it from your living. Before long, you cover his mouth with one hand, tilting his head away, and dive your fangs into his neck in one swift movement. The moment his blood hits your mouth, relief overcomes you, finally indulging in the drink you didn’t know you had been waiting for all night. This man’s life be damned, you needed this, and you couldn’t handle any more teasing.

You feel him trying to scream and fight his way out of your hold, but it's no use; as every sip you take makes you stronger, and him weaker.

And you drink, and drink, and drink, until he's limp and you can't feel any more of the warm liquid coming from his neck.

You finally understand how Astarion felt that night he first drank from you. You're happy. Ecstatic, even, but a bit drunk. That was a lot of blood for your first time, but it was perfect to satisfy you. You feel as if you could take on an entire army by yourself, finally, strong once again, stronger than you’ve ever been.

It’s only as you pull back and the tiefling’s corpse falls to your feet that the weight of your actions dawns on you, taking you out of your blind confidence. A sudden panic rises in your chest when you realise what you’ve done, and you backtrack out of the alley, until you accidentally bump into someone.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!”

That’s when you recognize the familiar voice, and you freeze in place, hardly believing it at first. You wipe off your mouth with the back of your hand, hoping to get rid of any evident trace of your feeding before turning around to face the voice.

“Shadowheart?”

She steps back in shock when she recognizes you as well, choking back a sob as she smiles, before she rushes to embrace you tightly. You reach out slowly to hold her back, still processing the shock of her presence. You’re confused by your own reaction, shouldn’t you be happy to finally see her again? Why were you… afraid?

She finally pulls back, after what feels like an eternity, to take a look at you. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“I… sent you a letter,” your voice is quiet with hesitation.

She sighs, “Ah, I just got back to Baldur's Gate, I’m afraid I haven’t received it – where were you?!” She reaches out to cup your face when her smile is replaced by worry almost instantly. “By Selûne, you’re freezing.”

“I’m fine,” you try to brush it off, reaching out to pull her hand away from your face almost in disdain, when you see her eyes flash in horror.

“You’re hurt!” She exclaims as she grabs your bloodied hand to inspect it. “Who did this to you? Are you in danger?”

“I’m not hurt!” You raise your voice, snatching your hand away from her forcefully, and in the lighting of the full moon, that’s when she sees your eyes.

Your brand new, ruby red eyes.

She gasps, her hands flying to cover her mouth as she takes a step back, connecting the pieces together in horror.

“Gods, no… what did he do to you?…”

You pull your cape back over your head as you avoid her gaze. “He didn’t do anything… I did. I asked him to transform me.”

“But why would you?! After everything you told me… what could make you change your mind? What did he say that could possibly make you do…” She pauses, looking you up and down, “this?”

You shake your head, “I–” The words get stuck in your throat, unable to explain to her what had happened just the day before. “I don’t expect you to understand, but–”

“You’re right, I don’t.” She says, cutting you off. “You do realise that the last time we saw each other, you wanted to forget about him? You considered leaving the city, with me.” She reaches out for your hands and looks for your eyes. “Nothing is stopping you from doing it, you can still run away from this, from him–”

“I don’t need protection!” You growl, snatching your hand out of hers as you back away. ”He’s helping me.”

“Whatever for?!”

You pause just before the answer makes it to your lips, as you realise just what you’ve become, and your face softens as you speak up. Your voice is but a whisper as your eyes fall to the ground before you. “Revenge.”

She scoffs, “You really do make quite the pair.” She sighs heavily, now shaking her head. “You’ve made your choice, clearly there’s no stopping you, but… I won’t stand here and watch you go down that path.” She looks up to you with sad eyes as she backtracks. “I hope you find whatever it is that you're looking for, truly.”

With those last words, she turns and slowly walks into the noisy tavern without giving you another look, leaving you alone with your thoughts in this empty street.

You, your thoughts, and the body of the man you had just killed.

Shit. The body.

You suddenly remember your actions and go back into the alley to do your best attempt at hiding him away – which turned out to shove him inside a barrel that you hid behind more boxes – before running away to the Crimson palace.

As you step back into the palace, you’re instantly faced with Astarion who had seemingly been pacing around the entrance, belittling Amedee, who was awake once more, for what you assume was letting you get out of the palace. He becomes furious the second he sees you, speaking up as he rushes towards you.

“Where were you?”

“As if you cared.” You brush him off, walking past him as you make your way to your room, when he puts his arm in the way to stop you and lean over you.

“Believe it or not, I was extremely worried,” he says, his voice darkened.

“You don’t need to be! I’m stronger than I’ve ever been, all thanks to you.” You taunt him, trying to move away from his intimidating form, but he cages you under him.

“Do I need to remind you who is out there?” He almost shouts, lowering his voice to continue. “You were supposed to stay here, where you are safe, and you deliberately ignored my only command.”

“You can give orders to your other spawns, but don’t get to command me, remember?”

He growls under his breath, “You’re making this very difficult for me, pet.”

“I’m not your fucking pet!”

As you roar, Amedee and a tiefling spawn you recognize from your days in the dungeons move carefully towards you, with the intention to restrain you, but they stop in their tracks when Astarion raises his hand to them.

His attention remains on you, but something changes in his eyes, his tone becoming suddenly cold, “Don’t make me compel you now.”

“Why don’t you try.” You push him backwards as you say your last words, and he barely moves, only stepping back to keep his balance. “Go on! Break yet another one of your promises. Compel me.”

He looks up to the two spawns, commanding them. “Leave us.”

They look back at each other before the tiefling tries to speak up, “My Lord, are you sure–”

“Now!” He shouts.

They bow and quickly leave the hallways, leaving you both alone. When he looks back at you, he seems more composed, but just as stern as before. “As much as I want to, I won't control you.” He stands upright once again, taking a deep breath. “I will respect your wishes, as difficult as it may be.”

“It seemed rather easy for you to abandon me merely minutes after I awoke as a monster,” you spit out.

He sighs, “It hurts me so dearly when you see yourself as such. My darling, you are so much more than that, and so much greater than a mere spawn.” He pauses, his gaze piercing through you. “No, you are my consort.”

You get more frustrated by the mention of the title, as if being his most beloved spawn changed a thing. You continue, your voice slowly rising, “I am not your prized possession, and I will not let you treat me as such. I should be free to do as I wish.”

“We spoke about this, dear. Circumstances changed. Once that’s settled, I would gladly let you parade in the lively streets of Baldur’s Gate as much as your heart desires.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms. “It isn’t as much parading as it is haunting when night comes.” Your anger leaves room for despair. How you had gotten there, how you had let yourself be guided by the simple means of revenge… “I should’ve known better than to trust you.”

He leans over you, stopping barely inches apart from your face, his breath hot as he murmurs against your ear.

“I did exactly what I promised I would do; I shared my gifts with you.” He grabs you by your chin, pulling a gasp out of you as he forces you to look at him when he growls, “And I intend on showing you exactly what I mean.”

You don’t get to react as he grabs you by your wrist and walks away, pulling you along with him. When you walk past your room and approach the door to the dungeons, a dread starts to set in within you.

“Astarion, where are you taking me?” He ignores your question as he keeps walking, and you try to pull away only to feel his grip on you becoming tighter. “Astarion, answer me!”

Your fear is replaced by confusion, as you walk past the dungeons, and enter a room you’d never been in before: the only room you noticed was locked earlier. As he drags you inside, you observe that it highly resembles yours, aside from the gigantic mirror placed near the bed.

He slams the door shut behind you and locks it, before walking back to you, “I never, ever, want you to think of yourself as nothing less than a goddess. Do you hear me?” You back track until you hit the wall on the other end of his room and his arms fly to the side of your head, caging you under him. His aura is dark, possessive, and not a single coherent thought inhabits you when lowers himself, leaving but a breath between you two. “I said, do you hear me?”

“Y-yes.”

“You – are sublime.” You blink anxiously, and you swear you could feel your face grow warm from his words. They were said with such admiration, yet his tone was bordering on madness; you had never felt so incredibly small under him. “Let me show you just how I mean to worship you.”

As soon as the last words leave his lips, he removes the cape from your shoulders, before ripping your dress open, completely ruining it. As you stand almost bare before him, he notices the blood on your pale skin, and he smiles as he reaches out for your hand.

“Oh? Did my little treat have a treat of her own?” he purrs, licking the blood from your hand, and a sinister chuckle escapes him. “Poor bastard probably had it coming. Tell me, dear, how did it feel?” His tongue trails from your hand, along your arm, up to your shoulder, leaving a faint kiss there before whispering. “To take a life?”

A short puff of air escapes you, before you manage to speak up. “It was… terrifying… and exhilarating… all at once.” You didn’t need to breathe anymore, but it didn’t stop your breathing to become fast paced as he continued to kiss your body, down to your navel.

“What about his blood? Tell me exactly how he tasted.” He pulls your panties down painfully slowly, as he sinks to his knees, while staring right into your eyes as he waits on you.

“He was… sweet. We had plum wine right before– ah–!” His hand finds its way between your legs, slipping right between your lips to find the accumulation of your desire. “Astarion…”

“Don’t let me stop you, dear. I want to know every sordid detail.” His fingers continue their rumination, encouraging you to retell your experience. “Go on.”

“We– we had wine, plum wine, and I could taste it in his blood.” You struggle to complete your sentences; between having Astarion on his knees before you and him fingering you, it was difficult not to. “He– Gods, he tasted like peaches, and– and bergamot–”

“Bergamot, huh?” He interrupts you. “Even when you’re looking to get away, it seems as if your senses bring you right back to me, don’t they?” A small cry escapes you as his fingers enter you, picking up a languid rhythm.

“I wasn’t– mmh– I… wasn’t looking to get away from y– you. I– ahh…” You try to grab onto the wall for support, as your legs start to give out while his fingers coax your inner walls, and his thumb teases ever so slightly your sensitive bud. "I was mad at you.”

He removes his fingers, dipping them into his mouth to taste you, “Mhh, I suppose I deserve that. I promise, I will absolutely treat you with the utmost attention moving forward.” He places his face between your legs, and pushes your legs over his shoulders, his arms circling over your thighs, giving you the support you need to stay up. “Starting now.”

He dives right into your cunt, his skilled tongue lapping over the mess he made of you. He growls against your entrance, as he tongue-fucks you, and his nose provides a delicious friction over your clit. You reach out for his head, grabbing onto his silver curls for support, and you feel him roar between your legs, the vibration sending a delicious wave of electricity through you. You buck your hips against his face, chasing the relief his tongue was providing you, while your moans only grow louder and louder.

In this position, he couldn't say much, but you begged him nonetheless, “Astarion, please, don’t stop.”

There’s nothing but him in your mind, him and his devilish tongue working wonders.

“Believe me, I want nothing but to ravish you, my dear.”

You look down on him with a frown, not understanding how he was able to speak so clearly when he was very much drowning in your juices. Breathless, you ask, “What– How did you–”

“Our minds, little love.” He answers in your mind, without ever stopping his labour of love. “Our bond is stronger than the one of regular spawns. They can only receive commands, but you, as my dark consort, can communicate back and forth with me.”

You remain silent, processing this new information, when you see his eyes looking back at you, still ravishing you. “I told you you were special.”

“But how–”

“You’ve already opened yourself to me, now, reach out to my mind.”

You close your eyes, focusing on his presence; his hands firm over your thighs, his soft curls brushing against your skin, his tongue devouring you, his nose teasing your clit, pushing you towards the edge…

“Oh, Astarion…”

“There you are, my precious darling.” He pulls away and gets up just as you were getting to your peak, and you whine at the loss of his touch, as if he took away the very air you needed to breathe. The smile that appears on his lips as he caresses your cheek is devious, almost cruel.

“Tsk tsk, only good girls get their reward. You want to be very good for me, don't you?” You nod vigorously and he smiles, wickedly. “I thought so.”

He removes his trousers, finally freeing the raging erection he was keeping caged within, to sit just over the edge of the bed. He brings his thumb to his mouth and punctures it with his fang, before smearing his own blood all over his leaking cock.

“Time for your treat, darling.”

Your legs finally give out and you crawl your way to him, enchanted by the sight before you. You recognize the smell of his blood from earlier; that was the liquid you drank this morning. He had fed you his very own blood.

Had he made you…

A full vampire?

“Come, now. Aren't you eager to taste me?”

The sight of his cock brought water to your mouth; the way his precome mixed with his blood made it glint in the light of the fireplace, your hand barely circling around his impressive girth, and the veins adorning it made for a delicious treat. You open your mouth, with your tongue sticking out, and lick from the bottom of his shaft up to the head of it, closing your eyes as you taste the sinful mix of his fluids.

The blood from your earlier catch was good, but it was nowhere near comparable to the delectable nectar Astarion bestowed upon you. This was downright heavenly.

“Mmh, doing so well for me, pet. My sweet, sweet consort.”

You're not sure if it's because of the taste of his blood on your tongue, mixed along with his sweet praise, but you find yourself more lenient on the pet name you previously disliked. Somehow, it was growing on you, and you weren't sure how to feel about it, but in your lust-drunken state of mind, the name rolled beautifully on his tongue.

Softly, he pushes aside your hair falling over your face, holding it back as you finally take him in your mouth. When you look up to him, you find him admiring you with half-lidded eyes, and his mouth agape. The moans that leave his mouth encourages you to go further, and with each mouthful of him, you take him deeper down your throat, until your lips are flush against the base of his cock.

“Keep going,” he breathes out. “Gods, you feel, aah– amazing.” To know that you had reduced the mighty Vampire Lord to whimpers fueled a newfound confidence within you, and it pushes you to suck more fervently on his dick, “Yes, just like that, pet. Fuuuck, darling, I should've fucked your pretty little mouth earlier.”

You bring your hand to his shaft, twisting and sliding along its length with each thrust of your mouth, while your other hand cups his balls, softly squeezing them in your palm. His hips thrust upwards into your mouth, almost moving of their own accord as he was nearing his climax.

“Are you ready to taste me, love?” You look up to him, and using your bond you answer “yes, please”. The corner of his lips turn back into a smile. “That's my good little girl.”

It's not long before he groans as you feel his cock throbbing inside your mouth, releasing his hot, salty seed down your throat, and you swallow every single drop. Maybe if I'm really good, he'll let me taste his blood again, you think to yourself.

You suck on his hardness a few more times through his climax, making sure to clean it from any remaining blood or come. When he stills, taking a second only to catch his breath, you finally release his dick with a loud pop, looking up to him with pride and lust in your eyes.

He leans towards you, catching your face between his hands to crash your lips together, and you open your mouth, welcoming his tongue begging to taste himself on you. When he pulls back, a trail of your mixed saliva hangs between the two of you, and as he wipes it off from your lips with his thumb, he smears more of his blood on your face. You stick your tongue out trying to taste more, the scent alone driving you to the border of insanity.

“You've been so good to me, my sweet. Now,” he gets up, pulling you up on your feet again. “Let me show you what it means to be my consort. To be mine.”

You yelp as he takes you in his arms before throwing you on the bed, and climbs over you. Nothing could've prepared you for what came next, when he flipped you onto your belly, and pulled you back up by your throat.

“Look at yourself.”

Before you stood the large mirror you had ignored up until now, and in it, your very own reflection, along with Astarion's. You can't believe your eyes. Clearly you weren't a spawn, he told the truth all along, but then…

“What… am I?”

He leaves kisses over your shoulder, slowly making his way to your ear. “My beautiful consort. My precious little love. My greatest creation.” He leans over your shoulder, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as he whispers.

“My bride.”

Come on, and feel alive, lover

Come on, and feel the love like a sinner

Shout it louder, shout it for the ones who could never say

I won't feel ashamed, mother

Can you break the chains off her?

Shout it louder, not a sinner, she's a lover

Chapter Text

You know I like you

And anyone who gets in my way, darling

Might get a handful of some shit

Or stay heavy-hearted

Because it's cut-throat

To anyone who comes close

Be mine

And everything will be fine

His… bride?

Your knowledge on vampirism was limited, given it was based on what Astarion had previously shared from his own experience, and rumours you had heard through the grapevines. Nothing ever mentioned brides, and unless you had lost a great deal of your memory, you don’t recall marrying Astarion, either, but if your reasoning was sound, being his bride would mean you were somewhat his equal.

“Does that make me… a real vampire?”

“You are even greater, as you are my creation.” He purrs, as his hand around your neck pulls you back further, exposing your neck to him, while his other hand wanders over your chest. “I’ve extended most of my blessings upon you, which is why you need not fear the sun, or any typical weakness that plagues our kind.” His eyes flicker back to your reflections in the mirror as he massages your breasts, all the while his tongue travels from your shoulder to your neck. “You are the only of your kind. With your strength and my influence combined, we are the most powerful couple in Baldur’s Gate. The most powerful beings in all the realms.”

His hand at your front travels down between your thighs to find the pool of warmth he had previously abandoned so carelessly, to dip one, then two fingers between your slick folds. The hand around your neck lessens – not that it played any part anymore, as your head was naturally falling backwards in reaction to his touch – to cradle your chin, with his thumb slipping inside your open mouth, as your breath picks back up the hectic rhythm it had when he was between your legs.

The taste of his crimson instantly invades your mouth, and you close your lips around his thumb, sucking fervently to get more of his liquid gold into you. You didn't experience hunger normally anymore – even earlier, the tiefling you drained was purely out of a power rush rather than actual hunger – but you think you would go insane if you never had the chance to drink from him. As you drink more, you feel yourself getting dizzy, almost drunk on his blood, the temptation to bite down getting harder to ignore.

“Uh uh, pet. You’ll bite on this one,” as he feels your fangs nibbling over his thumb, he removes himself from your mouth to bring his other hand back up, this one drenched in your nectar. “Drink, my consort. Taste how good we are, together.”

You hum at your sweetness, and following his command you bite down, mixing your juices with the richness of his blood. The more you drink, the more you feel connected to him, as if your bodies and minds fused as one. You are like a putty in his hands: not a drop of fighting left in you, willing to follow his every command.

While your mind wanders at the cocktail of flavours in your mouth, his other hand grabs a hold of your hips, as he guides the head of his cock against your entrance before plunging into you with one, deep thrust. Your mouth drops open as his dick fills every inch of your canal, making you whole with its presence. Before you can fall forward, Astarion's hand finds its way back around your neck, keeping you up and facing the mirror. His hand on your hips trails along your belly, and reaches the other side of your waist, keeping you still, with himself buried deep within you. He pulls your head forward, making you witness the mess he made of you.

“Focus, darling. I want your eyes on this mirror at all times.” His voice is deep with lust, almost primal as he growls. “You’re going to watch yourself come on my cock.”

His hips slap against your ass with each thrust he makes, and the pain from each one is nothing short of delicious. Between gasps, you cross his gaze in the reflection, his eyes darkened with want, with need, as he admires the sight of you, his vampiric bride, covered in his blood, impaled on his cock. There is a bloody mess that trails from your mouth, to your neck, down your chest, and finally around your waist; he made sure to spread himself all over you, marking you.

Your moans fill the room, along with the wet sounds from your fucking and his growls, which only get louder. You bite your lip in an attempt to muffle your screams, only for your mouth to fly open again, crying out, as you draw out your own blood from nicking yourself with your new set of fangs. It was going to take some time to get used to them, but it only made Astarion enjoy the sight even more.

“Just like that, pet. Don’t hold back now, I want everyone to know how good I fucked you.” Just as those words leave his mouth, you spy a wicked grin on his lips before his fangs dive right into the flesh of your shoulder. As he drinks you in – for the first time as his bride – he takes on a punishing pace, his cock ramming into you, hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars. His name slips from your mouth without thinking about it, each time louder than the last. He leaves the fresh bite wounds – another symbol of his ownership over you – his mouth fully covered in your blood, to look back at your reflection, as his hand leaves your waist to massage your clit, pushing you to your limit. “Go on, scream my name to the heavens, tell them who you belong to, mind, body, and soul.”

A few more rough thrusts hitting against your cervix along with the stimulation over your sensitive bud is all it takes for you to come, your walls tightening around his cock, and your voice screams his name out like he was the god you worshipped. Before you can come down from your high, he grabs a hold of the back of your head, pulling you back to angle your neck with his mouth before speaking up with a low growl.

“Come on, love, I know you can give me another one.”

He keeps fucking your through your climax, keeping up the stimulation over your clit as he bites down on your exposed neck. The overstimulation pushing your body to its limit makes you go deaf for a moment, as your body explodes yet another time, and he continues pushing you further until he feels you grow heavier as your body goes limp from exhaustion. Only then does he remove himself and let you land on the bed carefully. In your daze, you hardly notice him moving around, until he picks you up, very gently, to slip you under the covers where he rests with you. You think you can hear him say something along the lines of “Rest, little love”, but in the bliss of your aftermath, his words sound distant, almost like an afterthought. Too tired to even move anymore, you lay against his chest, with his arm surrounding you protectively, while the other caresses your hair. Just when you think you’re drifting to sleep, the fog obscuring your mind, he speaks up.

“I don't want you to think for a single moment that you're not deserving of the entire world and more, and I’ll make sure you get everything you deserve.” His tone is drastically different from how it was only minutes ago, suddenly warm and soft, like a gentle balm over your wounds. He sounds so distant in your mind, yet you’ve never felt so close. “I will be here when you wake up tomorrow.” He rests his lips over the top of your head, leaving the ghost of a kiss as he pauses, before he continues. “I will always be here, my love.”

After today’s rollercoaster of emotions, these last spoken words have you tearing up. This is what you wanted: comfort, acceptance, support; unconditional love. If you had the energy to answer, you think you would have said those three little words you hadn't dared to speak aloud yet, but in the state you were in, you only manage to sigh as a few tears roll down your cheek, before your world finally fades to black.

When you open your eyes the next morning, you’re greeted by Astarion’s arms wrapped tightly around you; his weight, his warmth, surrounding you – protecting you. You’re certain he’s gotten closer than how you recall falling asleep last night. You were now entirely cocooned between his arms, with his head resting atop of yours. It felt… nice. It’s only when you nuzzle against his chest, seeking more proximity and wanting to hear the appeasing sound of his heartbeat, that you feel him move, holding even tighter to you, as his hands lazily trails over your back. His grip on you is so strong, you don’t think you could free yourself – not that you wanted to. You would happily spend hours in his arms like this, enjoying the safety of his embrace.

Knowing his reveries were already on the short end compared to the ten hours you allowed yourself to sleep – on a good night, that is – and considering how last night had completely drained you of any energy you might’ve had prior, you were convinced he must’ve been awake for a few hours already, just waiting on you to wake up and enjoying your sleepy presence in the meantime. You smile at the thought of him allowing himself to be vulnerable behind closed doors, and you were the only soul lucky enough to witness it. You think it’s adorable how clingy he is of you now, as he cradles you in your sleep, and you hum happily in his embrace.

A faint thought passes by, and sleepily, you raise your head up, your chin resting against his chest.

“Are you scared that I might just up and vanish?” You try to crack a joke, your voice is still heavy with sleep.

He pushes back slightly to look back at you with a faint smile when he sees you’re finally awake.

“It’s hard not to when you made sure to remind me countless times how our time together would be short-lived.” His hand leaves your back to caress your cheek lovingly. “I’m only trying to make the best of it.”

Your brows furrow slightly until you remember your words from the previous days. You hadn’t told him about your encounter at the inn. “About that… I might stay longer than I previously envisioned.”

“Oh? Changed your mind about the cleric after all?”

“I actually ran into Shadowheart yesterday,” you confess.

“Have you? I’m sure that she must’ve been thrilled by your new look.”

You sigh at his sarcastic tone, “So much so that she turned her heels and bid me farewell without looking back.” You tilt your head forward, now resting your forehead against his chest. “It got me thinking… this whole thing might’ve been a mistake. I don’t think I was completely in my right mind when I made that decision.”

He tilts your chin up to look back at him, “It serves no purpose to linger on what could’ve been, darling. What’s done is done, now it’s up to you to do your best with the hand you were dealt.” His face lost its smile, but his eyes were shining with thoughtfulness. “I know you will have no issue doing so.”

He’s right, and it’s not like you could go back now. If you had to live the rest of your eternal life like this, you would try to make it as good as possible. You will spend the rest of your life begging forgiveness for that tiefling’s life you took; he couldn’t be older than twenty-five, he was probably really only looking to have a good time and you took his life for it. You try not to linger too long on the thought, ashamed of your actions, but you promise yourself that you will never take an innocent soul ever again. Good thing for you that Sir Virric Othros and his friends were far from it. Speaking of –

“The invitations. We need to send them out–”

As you try to lift yourself up, Astarion grabs your arm, stopping you. “That was taken care of.”

“What? When?”

“Yesterday evening. Remember? When you decided to go out for a little drink?”

You crash back on the bed, groaning. “Gods, I really let it get to my head. I’m sorry.”

He chuckles, “It’s all forgiven, my sweet. All things considered, I find it funny, really.”

You raise your brow, “Funny? Seriously? With the reaction you had yesterday I would’ve said anything but.”

He sighs, “My reaction was… extreme, I’ll admit. But when I noticed the blood on your hands, all my worries disappeared. I would even dare to say that I was proud of you. Now I know for certain that no one will get their hands on you, my little threat,” he says the pet name with a pause between each word, shaking your chin between his fingers.

“Won’t happen again, swear I’ll be on my best behaviour,” you answer, pushing his hand away like a teen getting scowled, but you still smile shyly at the new name.

“Oh no, on the contrary, I do hope you kill again, but let’s focus our energy on people who actually matter this time, hm?” He cocks his head to the side, with the hint of a smile, and your smile can’t help but widen.

You spend some more time in bed talking about the plan in detail – you think it was the skin to skin contact, but you were more comfortable talking about murder plans in bed with your lover rather than in his large office – you needed to make sure that the soiree would go down without a hitch. The next few days were spent planning that night. Astarion shared with you all the information he had on the guests he planned on inviting – after all, you couldn’t just invite the man you intended on killing – you had to make it seem like this was a real event that Astarion wanted to host, and plus, he could always use the extra influence he could gain as a bonus for the trouble.

The spawns are made aware of the target of the night and their goal is to assure that no other guests get in the way of your plan. A group is assigned to assure the service for the night, and the rest of them are to remain in the shadows and act as security.

No dress needed to be made for you, but your dearest Lord being the man he is, still insisted on having a few more made for you. It was only fair after ripping open one of them last night, and any additional one was just “a gift for my beloved consort and for the tremendous progress she has made”, really, any reason was good enough for him to shower you with gifts. You welcomed it happily by now, now that you knew he meant well.

The plan was simple: Astarion stays in the ballroom with the guest to assure his presence, and you lurk in the shadows until you can isolate Virric and take him out, away from the crowd. As prepared as you think you are, anxiety still fills your chest when the night of the soiree finally comes. However it would go tonight, you would finally take down the man who assaulted you, alongside any plan he had against Astarion, and you would make sure he would regret ever approaching you.

The night is lively, as you watch the many guests arrive and take place around the room. Most of them are harmless, from what you recall of Astarion’s reports over the course of the previous six months: merchants, Dukes, and Lords, all serving different purposes, but none posing a direct threat, for now anyway. Some other night, you might mingle, attached to Astarion’s arm and swaying people your way, but tonight, your role has to be assured in the shadows. You stay in a corner of the ballroom, hidden behind a large pillar away from anyone’s sight. You close your eyes to concentrate on your link with Astarion, looking for an opening into his mind, when you feel the comforting embrace of his own mind.

“Well well, hello there, my sweet. Miss me already?”

You open your eyes back up, answering via your connection, “It’ll take me a while to get used to this.”

“We do have the rest of our lives to experiment with it.”

You swear you could hear his smile in your mind, and you smile to yourself in return,

“I’ve told our guests that you were bedridden and wouldn’t be joining us tonight,” he continues. “They send their best regards.”

“How kind of them. Tell them I said thanks.”

You hear the echo of his inner laughter, “I’ll make sure to pass the word, dear.”

As the evening passes on, the ball room fills with countless guests, making it harder to find a specific someone, but with your new abilities, your vision is the sharpest it’s ever been, allowing you to do just that.

“He’s here,” you say.

“Has he seen you?”

“No, I’m still hidden.”

“Good. I’m still welcoming guests, it shouldn’t be too long before I’m free now.”

“And you’ll stay there, just like we planned.” There’s no response from Astarion but you can imagine him frowning; it’s not because you agreed to it that he has to be happy about it. “He’s moving away from the room,” you continue.

“Remember to stay hidden.”

“Yes, my Lord,” you hope he picks up on your tone that borders on condescendance. “Wait… he’s going up.” You pause as you think about your next move. “Stay with the guests, this might go better than I anticipated after all.”

“Be careful.”

“I am–”

“I mean it. Keep in contact at all times.”

You pause, acknowledging his worry. “I will. I promise.” You sever the connection, stopping him from talking in your mind any further. You didn’t lie, you were going to keep in contact, but after Virric was taken care of. For this plan to work, Astarion couldn’t interfere, and this was only happening because of your actions. You had to take accountability for them.

You follow him upstairs – keeping your distance – where you find him lingering in the hallways; he seems to be searching for something, or someone. You let him advance further into the palace, just to let him believe that he’s as furtive as he thinks he is, all the while making sure he was far enough from the ballroom so that his screams wouldn’t be heard when you would have the satisfaction to kill him.

Finally, when you see him at the door of your room, you speak up from the shadows.

“Looking for something?”

He steps back from the door, but doesn’t seem to recognize your voice, “My apologies, I was simply worried about the Lady of the house–”

“She’s bed ridden,” you cut him off, stepping out of the dark.

When he finally sees you in the dim lighting, his facade drops immediately. His fake smile is replaced by a malicious smirk along with furrowed brows.

“So I’ve heard.”

“What were you looking to find here?” Your tone is grounded, much different than that time in the gardens. This time, you know what you’re up against, and you’re ready.

“I simply wanted to make amends, nothing more, I swear.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, threatening to send you back into that night in the garden, but you don’t let it break your composure.

“I’m sure this is something you could’ve brought up with Lord Ancunín, instead of sneaking around in his palace, into his private rooms.”

He laughs, but there’s nothing warm in his voice. It’s vile, malevolent, and it brings out the worst in you.

“I’m afraid not. You see, this was a rather personal affair. I couldn’t let him get in the way.”

“Let’s settle it then,” you move forward carefully, drawing out a blade from under your clothing. Finally, back in your element, and stronger than ever.

“You know, I’ve done some research on you following our little encounter. Given, you were presented as Lady Ancunín, I searched with that given name and nothing came up, which leads me to doubt you have officially taken on the name yet.”

“I don’t see how that’s of any importance,” as you approach him, he finally moves on his own, making you two turn in a circle as you keep the discussion going.

“After some digging, I finally found your real name, and – you won’t believe it – but I knew I recognized you from somewhere.”

You scoff, “Awfully sorry to break it to you, but I’ve never seen you in my life. You've got the wrong gal.”

“Of course, I can’t expect you to recognize me, as we never had the chance to be appropriately introduced.” His smirk doesn’t leave his lips as he draws out his knife from its sheath, the same one he used on you at the ball. You would recognize its intricate form anywhere; the handle was a poignant shade of red, so much so you believe it almost shone in the dark. “No, just when we were supposed to meet, you ran away.”

As those words leave his mouth, you notice the family crest on his blade, one that jumpstarts your memory, and your eyes widen in horror as you silently gasp.

Fuck. That’s the man your parents had betrothed you to five years ago. That’s the life you ran away from all those years ago, the man you refused. After everything that’s happened, it feels like centuries ago.

“Cat got your tongue?” He teases as you stay silent.

You try to conceal your shock with some false confidence, exaggerating your tone. “I simply can’t believe my gut feeling was right to run away that dreaded night. Looks like without even meeting you, I knew you would turn out to be a disgusting piece of shit.”

“Oh, such harsh words in the fine mouth of a Lady. We’ll have to work on that.”

The implications of his words make your skin crawl. “Enough. Tell me exactly why you’re here.”

“Why, isn’t obvious by now? I’m bringing you home, Princess.”

You lift your blade as a warning. “Over my cold, dead body,” the words leave your mouth before you can even process them, but the irony doesn't escape you.

“I would rather not. You’re way more valuable to me alive than dead.” He flips the blade around, almost taunting you with his moves. “But I can afford a few cuts and bruises.”

You’ve heard enough.

With a growl, you finally close the distance between you two, swinging for his head. A bold move, but you take the risk. He dives, making you miss your first blow, but you’re fast to come back around, protecting yourself. Your short sword provided you with the length necessary to provide blow from far enough to be safe from his knife, but you would still need to be careful – you didn’t know what else he could have up his sleeve.

“Little kitty has nails, I see. Your parents did warn me that you were a lot to handle.”

He’s trying to get under your skin and he’s not even trying to hide it. This man is a fucking joke.

You swing again, this time aiming for his side, but he parries your hit. You force against it, until he spins the blade around, pushing you backwards with the move.

He continues, “They didn’t mention you had training in the sword arts, I imagine you would’ve cost more otherwise. Not that you’re any good, but they would’ve had to pay the teachers, whether or not you passed their class.”

“I didn’t need training,” you growl with a ragged breath, before launching another set of attacks, rapid hits from the left and right, only to thrust forward at the last minute, managing to slash the side of his chest.

He steps back, panting, “As the titled Saviour of Baldur’s Gate, I would’ve expected better.”

“I didn’t come here to fight with words, Virric,” you spit the name like venom, “you either start swinging, or I’ll believe that you’re all bark and no bite.”

He laughs, “I love your fire, Princess. I’ll have fun taming it.”

Fucking asshole.

You swing with all the force you have and he barely manages to stop the sword from hitting him. As you push against him to get the blade to his throat, you miss him reaching for another knife that he uses to stab at your waist before ripping it out instantly.

You push yourself backwards, your free hand flying to your wound as you swear at the searing pain the blade left in your guts. You make space between Virric and you as you inspect your wound; it wasn't enough to kill you, and with another portion of blood you would heal fairly quickly, but for now, it wounded you badly enough to start bleeding profusely over your hand and tainting your dress. When you make eye contact again, he’s standing again, his dishevelled hair falling like curtains over his eyes. He smiles wickedly, almost laughing, as if he had already won the fight.

“Is it that easy to tame your inner fire?”

“Ugh, fuck you, Virric.”

“Oh, we’ll get there,” his chuckle has your stomach turning upside down.

As you straighten back up, two additional figures emerge from the shadows behind you, daggers in hand. Sensing them, you turn around to recognize the men you caught bad mouthing you and Astarion at the ball.

“I believe you’ve met my associates, Emreth and Alstaer Reyrie.”

Brothers, huh. I hope their death puts an end to their bloodline.

“Three against one, really? You think so lowly of yourself that you wouldn’t be able to take on me on your own?” In another life, you might’ve been a bard with the amount of vicious mockery you had out of pocket.

“Oh, I know I can easily bring you on your knees.” The brothers scoff when Virric speaks up. “No, these gentlemen are here for payback. They really didn’t appreciate your words at the ball, and I promised them they would have their chance with you.”

With your heightened senses, you’re able to pinpoint if they were to move a single hair, and you were extremely glad for it in this situation, as they circled you, like a pack of predators waiting to jump on their prey. Little did they know they were the prey in this scenario. There was no way in the Hells that either of them were going to land a single hand on you.

As you lift your blade in a defensive stance, you feel yourself wobble and your head heavier.

Huh?

All of a sudden, your vision blurs and you struggle to stay up, gathering all your force to keep your feet on the ground and your blade steady, attempting your best to hide your struggle. When Virric laughs, crossing his arms in his back, you quickly understand that the dagger in your gut was no ordinary blade. You don’t know what kind of poison he dipped it in, but you weren’t going to be conscious long enough to either figure it out, or to kill Virric yourself – unless you acted fast. When one of the brothers steps forwards carelessly, thinking you were already weak enough, you swing your blade in front of you, taking them by surprise as you slash his throat successfully. His blood splatter awakens something animalistic in you, and you grow to forget the blade in your possession.

In a fit of fury, the brother left alive rushes towards you, but you manage to evade his attack by a hair when you side step as he lunges forward. Baring your fangs as you let your new nature guide your next actions, you slash his face down with your sharp nails, creating new scars along his profile. He screams in pain as his hands fly to his face, rushing away from you to crash against the wall. One look at you in this state is all he needs to gape at the monstrosity before him.

“What in the nine Hells are you?!”

You already took one out, you just need to take care of the other two, this should be easy enough – if you weren’t incapacitated. As the poison settles in, you realise your consciousness is fading, slowly but surely. You try to stand defensively again, only to almost trip, managing to keep yourself up using your blade as support. You quickly come to the realisation that you’re past the point of fighting; you have no choice but to call for backup now.

Closing your eyes, you focus on your connection to Astarion.

“Astarion…”

No answer.

Shit, come on.

“Astarion!... Please… I need you…”

Silence.

You fall on your hands and knees, as your blade wobbles out of your grasp, and you try to reach out for it when you sense Virric walking around you, only for him to kick your blade away from you. It takes every ounce of resolve left in you to keep fighting your body to stay awake. You had to try, even if it was a lost cause. You try to connect to Astarion once more, trying your best to give him an idea of what had happened to you.

“Astarion… Virric… Poison… Help…”

You close your eyes, finally drifting to sleep, feeling a pair of unwanted hands already handling your unconscious body.

This might get a little messy, I'm sure

Heads rolling for the one I adore

This may become a little brutal if I'm honest

But it's anything for you my dear, I promise

Chapter Text

What will you do when she takes your throne?

Beg for her power or throw her a bone?

All that she has traded for love is yours

What will you do when she takes off her clothes?

Beg for her body or touch her soul?

When you're alone dreaming of her you sigh

You wake up with a weird churning in your guts, and a throbbing headache. When you finally come back to your senses, you get to the awful realisation that you’re locked up somewhere you don’t recognize, chained up — again — and the wound at your waist stings like hell. Wherever you are, it isn’t the Crimson palace’s dungeons, that’s for sure.

The place, you assume, is another dungeon located in a cave of sorts, or maybe the sewers — it's hard to tell, but you're underground certainly — as uneven rocks surround you. The air is damp but cold, and for this sole reason, you’re thankful for your new undead body. Had you been mortal, you would be freezing cold, but now, your surroundings matched the temperature within you. While uncomfortable, you certainly weren’t suffering because of it.

Your wrists are chained to the wall, and as you gulp, you sense the chain also attached to your neck.

Really? My neck? Even Astarion didn’t go to these lengths when he kept me captive.

Wait. Astarion! That’s it!

You close your eyes to focus on initiating the connection through your bond, searching for his mind, and when you think you successfully reached him, you almost shout in your mind.

“Astarion! Can you hear me?” There’s a deafening silence that fills you with dread just before his voice echoes in your mind.

“By the Gods, where in the Hells are you?!” Finally hearing his voice again, you let go of a breath you didn’t realise you were holding in as you choke back a sob.

“I’m in a dungeon, I think? Or a cave, maybe, I’m not sure — how long have I been gone?”

“A few hours. I sent Amedee after you when I sensed something wrong — rightfully so — she took care of Alstaer.” His words are spoken faster than you can process them before he jumps back to his previous question. “I need you to tell me everything about where you are — I swear it on my grave, I will find you, or I’ll burn the world down trying.”

In truth, you had not the slightest idea of where in the nine Hells you could be. The last thing you remember before passing out was Virric’s hands over you and his disgusting laughter. The thought alone made you want nothing more but to rip off his tongue with your bare hands and make him choke on it. Just as the thought crosses your mind, the door to your dungeon swings open with a loud screech, making you wince at the sound. Your connection to Astarion withers before you can give him any information, as your focus switches to the monster walking towards you, with a rolled up leather case.

“Good morning, Princess.”

Speak of the devil.

“Fuck off.” Although not in your habits to swear, this man had a way to turn you vulgar with his mere presence; you had no patience for whatever he had planned and you wanted to be the farthest thing from polite with him.

He sets down the leather case on a nearby table before approaching you. “Now, that’s no way to talk to your betrothed. Did your parents not teach you manners?”

If your eyes could roll further back in your skull, they would. “Gods, what kind of curse has you constantly spouting about our engagement? It’s been five years, Virric, you act as if the world stopped turning when I left.” You sigh, looking away, as you mumble. “Plus, I doubt this contract is even valid anymore. Must’ve been void the second I vanished.”

He crosses his arms in his back, walking around your cell as he speaks, “You see, after your little escapade, my reputation — along with your family’s, mind you — were tainted. No other Lord or Duke of the court with a suitable daughter took a chance on me — a man who made his bride-to-be run away without even meeting her — you can imagine the scandal. I gave my word, not only to your parents, but to the court, that I would find you and bring you back to me.”

You don’t comment on this, but you think that if he took five years to find you again — and without even recognizing you the first time — he mustn't have been doing that great of a job at searching for you. That, or you were just very good at hiding your tracks. Either way, you had outsmarted him, and you can’t help but feel proud about yourself.

He continues, “Once they see that I have accomplished not only this, but have you be obedient and respectful, submissive — as you will be — they will see that my convictions go beyond promises, that I act on my intentions. And when I bring forward the proof that Ancunín is nothing but a fraud, finally, I’ll earn their respect back. They will have no choice but to include me back into their inner circles.” He pauses his rambling, cocking his head to the side, fixating on your right hand. “I already made the arrangements, so you won’t even have to use that little head of yours.”

You turn your head to take a look at your hand to find a new golden ring with a clear crystal in the middle, now adorning your finger. You’re taken aback by its presence, the urge to rip it off burning in your chest, but you try to push the feeling aside, taunting him instead, “A random ring on my finger doesn’t mean anything, especially if I didn’t agree to it.”

He laughs humorlessly, “Oh dearest, you are simply adorable to think you have any say in the matter. I never needed your permission, you are mine by right. And as your first duty as my bride, I require you to tell me everything you’ve learned about this mysterious Lord Ancunín.”

Bride. You frown at the mention of the word, which sounds twisted and bitter when it falls from his lips, as opposed to the way Astarion had made it sound so precious and beloved. You might be a bride, but not by his definition, and even less Virric's.

“I’m not telling you shit,” you finally spit out.

“Oh, you will, eventually,” he pauses, suggestively as he approaches you, eyeing you up and down. “Willingly, or… by other means.”

Unimpressed, you scoff. “Holding me hostage won’t change my mind. This is hardly my first time.” He would have to be creative to get you to say anything; if you had survived the mind flayers and your breakup with Astarion, along with everything that happened following that, Virric should be a breeze to go through.

He leans in closer, breathing down on you. “When I have my power, I will take the time needed to break and reshape every single part of your mind and body, until you are built perfectly in my image,” you notice the corner of his lips turning into a smile that suggests things you don’t even want to consider, the thought alone making you sick to your stomach. “You will bow before me, and you will do so willingly.” He leans back, taking his casual, disdainful look again. “But, until then, I think I may have a way to… encourage you to act reasonably, so to speak.”

He turns back around to the table where he had laid out his case to open it, displaying its contents. Before you, he unravels a collection of blades, ranging from razors to saws of different sizes. The sight of them along with his previous words is enough for panic to overcome you, a tightness in your chest rendering you breathless for a few seconds.

“So,” he picks out a short razor-like blade from his set before he approaches you again. “Do you intend on sharing Lord Ancunín’s dirty secrets or am I going to have to pry them out of you?” He says, tapping the blade over your nose as he emphasises the word.

“I don't know anything,” you fight yourself not to show the shakiness in your voice, and terribly fail at doing so.

“That's a shame, truly,” he says, his voice devoid of any emotion.

He lets the blade trail near your collarbone before slowly sliding it down to your chest, the deadly sharp tool slicing through the fabric of your dress down to your hips, as if it were air. You shriek at the gesture, partly glad it wasn't your skin he cut — yet — but also worried of where this was going to go, as you now stood exposed to him in your undergarments, with the ripped fabric of your dress hanging from your arms.

“I'm gonna give you one more chance, princess. This could go very easily for you. I just need one dirty secret that can help me take down Ancunín while securing my place among the right people. I'm not asking for much! One, simple, yet meaningful secret, and all of this can stop.”

You fight through the fear in your chest, trying to paralyse you. Torture here or torture later wasn’t much of a choice. You would die before you let him win over you, before you would sell out Astarion. “I have nothing to tell you.”

He sighs dramatically, “Fine! If you don’t want to talk about him yet, maybe we can discuss of your little secrets.”

The knot in your chest finally relaxes, if but for a moment, “I thought you knew everything there was about me.”

He nods, “Everything from your family, your childhood — your past, mostly — yes, I do. But nothing in those papers mentioned you being anything remotely close to a monster.”

You scoff, “What could possibly make you think of me as a monster?” Your tone is unapologetically sarcastic. “Between the two of us, I would be tempted to say you’re the monster, Virric.”

In the blink of an eye, his knife is up to your throat, tipping your chin up by the tip, to meet his gaze. You hiss as the blade penetrates ever so slightly your skin underneath, the same way it did, that night in the gardens.

“Listen here, girl, you may think of this as a game, but in case you haven’t realised, there is no way for you to win. I can either make this quick, or so very, very slow.” He digs the blade deeper as he tilts it, cutting along the side of your jaw. The feeling of the knife piercing your skin left a burning sensation that had you writhe in pain as you tried to pull away from it. “Which one will it be, doll?”

And just like it left, the knot in your chest was back. The terror paralyzed you, as you succumbed to the feeling of powerlessness, and visions of the worst outcomes manifested themselves in your mind.

You were going to die here.

Met with your lack of answer, Virric continues. “If this is how you wish it to be.”

The blade leaves your jaw to drop to your hips, where he slides between the fabric of your panties and your skin, before swiftly pulling down and away, slicing the fabric in two, and nicking your skin in the process. Whether it was voluntarily or not didn’t matter, he rejoiced in your pain nonetheless. You hiss at the faint burning sensation of the blade and twist over yourself, trying to hide what the fabric used to conceal.

“If a beast you are, then a beast I shall tame.”

His knife travels up to your belly, as he continues to dig deeper into your skin and you wince at the pain; you’ve experienced worse injuries in your battles, but somehow, Virric’s blade cut deeper into you than any arrow you might’ve received. This was personal, bigger than a misunderstanding, or than a lost arrow on the battlefield. Your very existence, your fate, hung in the balance, and now that you were undead — even if unbeknownst to him — he had the power to drag out this torture forever.

The sharp dagger makes its way up, bleeding you out in the process, and stops right before your bra, hovering over the simple fabric that held your breast together; the last thing covering what left you had of decency.

“Do you have something to tell me now?”

Weighing your words, and between deep breaths, you growl. “Fuck. You. Virric.”

The smile that reaches his cheeks is nothing short of evil. “I was hoping you would say that.”

In one swift flick of his wrist, the blade cuts through the lace of your bra, grazing the skin between your breasts as they get released, and a whimper escapes you before you can stop it. He pulls back if only for a moment to marvel at the sight of your pale skin.

“Ah,” he sighs. “A blank canvas. Perfect. I've been wanting an excuse to use my toys.” As he draws over your chest with his dagger, marking your skin with new scars, you fight through the tears swirling around your eyes and the whimpers getting stuck in your throat; you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of watching you break so soon, but the temptation to give in was becoming too heavy to ignore it. Met with your defiant, yet watery glare, Virric only chuckled.

“I can drag this on all night long.”

And so, the night went on. Your clothes were entirely discarded, completely cut to ribbons, as he continued to experiment on your body with different blades, branding you, touching you in places he hadn’t had the chance to before, that night at the ball, and doing more atrocities you wished you could forget. Your cries only encouraged him — as much as you tried to conceal them — and he even went on to comment on the fact that they were “a melody he couldn’t believe he had missed out on all these years”.

You passed out from the pain at one point, and when you finally came to your senses, you were not sure how long had passed. Virric, at least, was nowhere to be seen. Surely, there was no point torturing you if you were unconscious, and he left you alone once he didn’t have any reaction out of you. After all, he needed you alive — if he was going to kill you, it wasn't going to be this soon, and it wasn’t going to be this quick, he made sure of that.

You took the opportunity of his absence to try and reach out to Astarion, hoping his mind would be open to you.

“Astarion? Astarion, please tell me you’re there…”

Your connection was feeble, weakened by your injuries and threatening to break at any moment, but just before despair claimed you, his voice echoed in your mind.

“Oh Gods, Darling, finally— please, tell me exactly what is happening, I can’t have you vanish on me again without knowing what is causing this pain.” His voice was controlled but you sensed the desperation underneath.

“I’m— Wha— What pain?”

“The cuts, the burns — I feel everything.” Then, you heard it in his voice, in the way it was shaking. The anxiety, the anguish… the guilt.

You stayed silent, for what felt like forever as you processed the information, “...How?”

“Our bond goes beyond our minds. Our bodies and souls were intertwined when I made you my bride. Your pain is my pain, as much as mine is yours.”

When you were stabbed in your fight, he must’ve felt it. When you kept your mind closed to him, he must’ve instantly known something was wrong and tried to reach out, only to be met with silence. When you passed out from the poison, you couldn’t reach out to him, because he must’ve been affected, too.

“I didn’t realize—”

All the torture you went through, he had to go through it, too. It didn’t matter that he had killed Cazador, or that he was the most powerful vampire in all the realms. Because of his connection to you, he was back in those dungeons, getting tortured.

All over again.

You’re unable to silence the cries that followed, your voice trembling in your mind, “Astarion— I’m so sorry—”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, my love. I knew the weight of this decision when I made it, when I proposed it to you, and I will bear it with you by my side, until the end of our days.”

There was a pause, as if he was debating with himself, as if what he was about to say weighed heavier on him than he let on. “If anything, I should be sorry for keeping this information from you. I trusted you enough to defend yourself, to take on this fight. I should have trusted you further with our bond, but I was… selfish.”

There is a small silence, the heavy weight of guilt flowing through this bond that united you, before he continued, his voice now assertive. “I won’t make the same mistake again. Virric hasn’t been seen since the soiree; wherever you are is well hidden. Now, I need you to guide me, to know where you are. Give me any information, anything at all.”

But where could you even start? So much had happened in such a short period, and yet, Virric hadn’t given you more clues as to where you could be kept.

Anything at all, he said. Just tell him everything you can.

“I'm chained up — my wrists, my neck — I can't fight him. There's no one else here, I— don't even know how long has passed, there’s no one else but him here, and it's so damp, and cold, and—” You pause, as you feel the panic rise to your chest. “He… he has these tools — these blades… he calls them ‘his toys’... Astarion— He’s gonna keep going until I break and reveal a secret about you, he wants to take your place and… And then he’ll keep going until I cave in and marry him. Astarion, I can’t—” Your burst into tears, unable to finish your sentence.

“I”m going to fucking kill him,” his anger reverberated in your mind like an impending heartquake, before calming down, but his voice kept its devotion. “My love, I swear on my life, I will find you. Be strong, I know you have it in you. You are stronger than anyone I know. Keep fighting. You can fight him.”

Your connection faltered, and you were met with a lonely silence once again.

That night, you cried until sleep claimed you.

Another day of torture went by. Some of your smallest and oldest cuts had already partially healed through the night — not that it was discernible under the newest cuts he made, not that you wanted to look at them, either — as the sight of your body in cuts only made you more desperate. You had glanced over them once and it had broken your spirit; it only made you live those moments over and over again. When Virric finally graced you with a moment of respite, supposedly bored of you for the moment, you spent your time trying to rest, and gain back your energy. You tried to come up with a plan at first, but nothing came to mind; he kept his tools out of reach; there were no guards to subdue; there were no windows to look out of, and no additional information as to where you were kept. Just this same underground cell, with this same damp air, and those same rock walls.

In the worst moments, when he took advantage of you the way he had wished back in the gardens, you wished you were dead instead. Your fear turned into anger at first, when you still had it in you to fight back, until it turned into despair, as his lingering touch violated your body through your pleas. He didn't care for your utter disgust — if anything, it only seemed to entice him more. He became more daring, and when he got tired of playing with you, he forced himself onto you.

His knife found its way just under your breast, where he skillfully cut around it before roughly squeezing your breast, forcing the blood out of you. You cringed in pain and he only let go once your blood was practically flooding down your belly, mixing with the remains of old blood from his previous operations along with your older cuts. When you finally opened your eyes again, he had removed his trousers, his cock out and hard, and no word came out of you. You refused to believe this was going to happen, a part of you still hoped that Astarion was going to burst the gates to your cell open and save you from this fate, that something, anything, was going to stop him, that it was just a twisted joke and he would draw back.

But he didn’t. This was Virric, the psychopath who relished in torturing you to no end, cutting you up and leaving you to bathe in your own blood. He couldn’t just rape you, he had to do it his way.

He cupped a portion of the blood that had leaked from your chest to smear it over his dick, pumping himself a few times before he lifted your legs, to position yourself at your entrance, and it didn’t matter that you kicked and trashed against him, he had you pinned to the wall and impaled on his cock the moments that followed. It felt as if he tore through you, the pain of each of his thrusts rippling through your legs. He kept at it, panting in the crook of your neck, his breath damp and hot until he came, emptying himself inside of you. His moans in your ear — too close, too loud — as he smiled with satisfaction at your tears, before sliding out of you, leaving you with the remains of his climax.

Then, you felt yourself break. For the first time, you considered death, as it felt like the only mercy that would free you from this torment. Long gone was the sassy fighter who enjoyed bantering, even with her worst enemies. The light within you — your will to fight — was fading; your very soul, the remaining part of you that made you human, was a few cuts and touches away from vanishing like your pulse.

When Virric enters your cell the next day — or night, for all you knew — you don't even lift your head to defy him.

“No insults today? And here I thought I would be able to drag this out for another tenday before you broke under my thumb.”

Another? No, it couldn’t have been that long, you couldn't have been out for more than three days, could you? A tenday is impossible— No, Astarion would’ve found you by then, he would’ve—

“You’ll never understand how glad I was to have finally found you back,” he sighs. “I’ve been thinking about all the things I have wanted to do to you since you slipped my grasp five years ago. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

You don’t notice him making his way towards you, and picking up his favourite knife — you guessed, as it was the one he used the most — a dull one that made you scream for the first time when he cut through the inside of your thigh; he had used your bloody thighs to relieve himself that day. Your legs were still sticky from the resulting outcome.

You only realise how close he has gotten when you feel the tip of his dagger flick over your nipple hardened by the cold air. You hiss when his hand touches your waist where he stabbed you, the night of the soiree. “It’s disappointing, if not impressive, that your wound is almost healed already. I was looking forward to playing with a new hole.”

You wince, turning your head away and gulping hard as the disgust threatened to come up to your throat when he let his hands roam freely over your form, until something clicks in your mind from what he said.

You were almost healed already.

You blame it on this identity still being relatively new to you, on top of the exhaustion from the torture, for not realising it sooner, but with more blood, you could heal completely. You might just break free with the rush of strength it would give you.

Thinking quickly, you establish what you’re going to do; you would just need him to get even closer than he was, as awful as it sounded, to be able to bite him. With the shackle around your neck, you would need to be almost face to face — or rather, face to neck — with him for this to work. You would only have one chance at this, and you wouldn’t have more time if Virric found out about your vampiric nature — something you had managed to keep secret, as he seemed to have believed you when you justified your feral attack on Alstaer on your feminine nature; long nails were just your birth right and in the heat of the moment, you didn’t know better than to slash his face instead of using your sword. “Silly, silly woman.” He ate it all up.

But if you were to do this, there would be no room for error. If he found out you were a vampire, he would instantly track it down to Astarion, and they would go on a monster hunt against him and his spawn. Worse, even, he would linger on the torture if he had confirmation that you would never die from it. He would keep you balancing between life and death, forever; breaking your spirit, what was left of your humanity. You need to get him to believe he has won this fight.

You need to submit.

When his knife slides between your thighs, you initiate your plan.

“Please! Please, stop,” You shout with what you have left in your voice, before letting your head fall, feigning to give up, “I… I’ll tell you what you want, but please, I beg you; mercy.” you plead, your voice small and broken as you push another sob. The constant screaming had roughed up your throat, making your voice almost unrecognisable when you spoke for the first time in days.

His knife finally stops its ministrations when he steps back to look at you. “Did my pet have a change of heart?”

Pet. This name hurt more than the others.

“I can’t… can’t take it anymore… Virric, please” you pant, without looking up to him, as tears stream down your face. As much as this was part of your façade, the words weighed heavy and true — if this didn’t work, you would take your own life at the first chance you got.

He takes your chin between his thumb and finger, forcefully tilting your eyes up. As you slouch over the wall now, you stay much smaller than him. “First of all, you are to refer to me as Master from now on. Am I clear?”

Another angry tear silently falls from your eye, “Yes.”

You barely register how fast he moves when the back of his hand collides with your cheek brutally, “Wrong answer.”

“Y-yes, Master.” The only thing stopping the bile from coming up your throat at this point was the lack of contents in your stomach.

“Good. There is still hope yet for you.”

You take a few shaky breaths before speaking up, “I just… I need to know… What will happen after I tell you… his secret?”

“Exactly what I said would happen: he will be stripped of his title — not that he ever deserved it — and I will receive it in his stead, along with all his assets, which will attribute to me the respect of the high society.” He speaks as if it was already a done deal, as if this was only moments away from being his reality.

“And… me? What are you going to do with me?” You say, your voice merely a whisper by now, as you force out another tear to aggravate your desperation.

“Depends. Obviously you will be mine once more, back where you belong. Perhaps, serving me on your knees, obedient and silent, as any ideal wife should be. That is, of course, if you are a good little puppet, and you follow every and each of my orders. I might even reward you if you are especially complacent. Otherwise,” he eyes down the knife in his grip, dangerously threading down to your navel, making you groan in pain as he cuts you further. “I will have to keep you locked up, and punish you until you learn your lesson. I do not appreciate insubordination.” He lifts your chin up with his other hand, taking in your distress like an aphrodisiac. “I think I’ll keep the collar on you though, it suits you quite well.”

You force your eyes shut once more as you sob, not from the continued pain from his torture — not anymore — but from the mere idea that this was almost your life. This could still be it, but had you not impulsively ran away from your home back then… gods, you don’t even want to think about it, this was torture enough. You thank all the gods that you are an only child, as you don't think you would’ve been able to live with yourself if you had abandoned a sister to this life by running away yourself.

When you feel his blade between your legs, you realise you’re out of time.

“Stop— stop!” you say, your voice cracking, as it comes out between cries. “I’ll tell you what you want.”

You miss the smile of satisfaction on his face, one that you would be too happy to tear off, as he sets down the knife at his table. “I knew you would see reason, princess. Don’t be shy now, tell me everything I want to know, and I’ll make sure to reward you appropriately. We might even pay your parents a little visit! Show them the progress we’ve made with you.”

If you had to see your parents again, especially your father who had sold you off as if you were nothing but cattle, you don’t think you would have the force to restrain yourself from killing them, too.

“I… just… need…” you mumble, your speech barely audible as you feign exhaustion, panting after each word.

“Speak up, girl. I won’t repeat myself.”

It takes everything you have left in you not to spit at him. “Come… closer…” you whisper to draw him where you need him to be, and the fool obliges you, too blind on his power trip to second guess your intentions as he turns his ear to you, finally exposing his neck to you.

“He’s… he’s a…”

You wait for the right moment, when his neck is just under your chin, to finally bolt up on your legs and dive your head down, plunging your fangs deep into his skin. Your teeth manage to keep him still long enough for you to take three great gulps of his rich blood, which seems to burn as it goes down your throat. He shoves himself away from you, stumbling back to the table with his knives, and brings his hand up to cover the wound in his neck.

His blood gives you the results you hoped for; your open wounds heal in the blink of an eye, your will to fight springs back to life, and with your renewed strength, you easily tear off your bindings from the wall behind you, before ripping off the one at your neck, finally setting yourself free.

One look at him in his pitiful state awakens something within you, a hunger — for blood, yes — but a blood bath. You can now hear how fast his heart is beating against his ribcage, terrorised at your sight.

“A vampire?!” he screams, incredulous, as his voice trembles.

You give him a toothy grin, frowning through the tears in your eyes and the blood on your lips, proudly displaying your hidden fangs. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

Before he can reach for his arsenal, you whip up the chain linked to your shackled arm to strike his right arm down. The blood loss affecting him messes up with his reflexes, and he receives your hits without a chance of dodging them. He screams when the chains make contact with his arm, and then you finally understand what he meant about your own screams; his pain elicited something extremely satisfying within you, and you wanted more.

As he tries to reach for another blade with his left arm, you repeat the same move, swinging the chain in your hand towards his legs, making him trip, and knocking away the table and his arsenal in the process. When he sees you pick up daggers from his collection, he crawls backwards in panic until he hits the locked door of your cell. He doesn’t even bother to cover his neck which is still profusely bleeding from your feeding, as his eyes look you up and down in a fright that suited him far better than the arrogance he wore before.

Breathless, he asks, “Ancunín is a bloody vampire?!”

You approach him like a predator would their prey, with a glint in your eyes as you inspect the knife you hold, “Honestly Virric, I can't believe it took you that long to figure it out. The man is a high Elf — you of all people should know there are no high elves with red eyes, come on now.”

“There was word that he was a drow—”

“A drow? With his complexion?” You scoff, crouching to his level. “Maybe you really are as stupid as he painted you out to be.”

“How dare you—” He snarls, as he tries to get to his feet, but you stop him before he can get anywhere, as you plunge the knife in his thigh and twist through the muscles. He cries out, so loud it echoes through the tunnels of his hideout, and you rip out the knife from his leg before you get up to take a look at the state of him.

“You know,” you say, void of any emotions, “I would tell you to send my regards to my parents, but I don’t intend on letting you live long enough to get there.”

As you wind up your next hit, he lifts his arm in protection, yelling to wait. You halt in your tracks, simply by curiosity of what he would say in his moments of desperation, and lower the knife, waiting to see what bullshit he would spit out.

“Think about it,” he pants. “People are going to ask around. You wouldn’t risk going to prison over killing me, would you?” He smiles as he lowers his arm to gauge your reaction, but for the first time, his smile was out of desperation. It’s uneven, shaky, uncertain; he’s terrified of you.

“Beg.”

“W– What?”

“You want me to spare you? Beg for it.”

He remains quiet, blinking anxiously at the sight of the vampire bride that held his life between his hands, and with a shaky voice, he breathes, “I’m— I’m not—.”

You lunge, holding the bloodied knife against his throat just as he had done to you so many times before, pushing against the soft spot between his neck and under-chin, “Speak up, pet.”

He sneers, refusing to comply and you push the knife deeper into his throat, “Unless this precious life of yours isn’t really worth anything?”

“P– Please!” He finally snaps when the knife cuts through the soft skin of his neck, choking on his words. “I— I’m sorry! I’ll disappear, I'll leave Baldur's Gate, you’ll never hear of me again, please! I- I beg you, spare me!”

Under your hand, Virric shakes. Not only his voice, but his whole body; you dare to think that you’re shaking his spirit, too. And all of this only in the span of a few minutes, yet again beating Virric at his own game. You drink in his terror, and decide to play some more. “Gods, you sound pathetic.”

You pull away, straightening up, “I don’t think you’re worth my mercy, Virric.” You eye the knife in your grasp, inspecting it as you keep talking, “What was it that you said that night at the ball? You wouldn’t want people to see you like this, now would you?” You shoot him a deadly glare, before grabbing another knife that was discarded earlier, and as you walk towards him, he lifts his remaining working arm in an attempt to try and stop you, “Wait! How will you explain my disappearance?”

You smile faintly, your words are devoid of emotion, empty, yet, threatening. “I’ll find something.” You step closer, the dagger burning in the palm of your hand for retaliation going straight into his other leg. After his screams settle back down, you crouch and lean closer to say, “After all, no one would have respected you if they knew you were bested by the very woman you swore to force into submission.”

You lean into his ear, whispering. “I’ll make sure everyone knows.”

Before he can say anything to stop you once more, your knife is deep in his guts, once, then twice, then more times than you can count. You finally pull away, watching as his life leaves his eyes, drinking in the horror of his last moments alive.

As his body goes limp, falling to the side, you step back, dropping the blade from your hand before falling to your knees, the adrenaline that pushed you through this encounter leaving you all at once. Your breathing accelerates without you being able to control it, seemingly forgetting it wasn’t a vital necessity to you anymore, and you physically feel your heart tightening in your chest. You try to compose yourself, try to tell yourself you’re fine, but a wave of raw emotions hits you all at once and tears flood your vision.

This man would never hurt you again, and your bleeding wounds had healed, but you had to drink his blood for this to happen. His blood, in your body, just like he had been without your consent, for days. Your skin itches at the thought of feeling his blood course through your veins and you want to rip off your skin, leave this body for a new one, remove the stains from his abuse, scratch away his touches — no more, no more, no more.

In the distance, you hear frantic footsteps and you lift your eyes towards the sound — guards. That must be them, posted further away, just in case Virric had the need for them, and they were coming for you. Quickly, you grab back the longest dagger among Virric's tools, and get back on your feet, preparing yourself to attack the first guard — no, not a guard.

Astarion.

Your body refuses to move, frozen in place by some magic, refusing to see him there, standing before your cell — he had come for you after all — and the moment after he rips away the door to your cell, you are in his arms. Still frozen, still unbelieving.

“Oh darling… My sweet love… I finally found you. It's me. I'm here.” He pulls back, his hands reaching to cup your face between them. “I'm here. It’s over.”

“He… He’s…” You wanted to try to explain, but there was never the need to, not with Astarion, not when he had felt every cut and bruise and touch Virric had imposed on you.

“I know, my love. I know.” In the second that followed, you dropped your weapon and the one after, you cried, and cried, until your cries turned into screams, unable to keep the emotions bottled up anymore. Your voice is guttural, broken between sobs, depicting just how broken you were inside.

He pulled back from you to surround you with his jacket, warm from him wearing it, and protecting your body from any unwanted eyes, before picking you up in his arms.

“Let's go home.”

You walked away without a second look at Virric's butchered remains.

The gods have made us a virgin hunter

Who in the storm becomes stillness

I always wondered why they all came back for more

Came back for more

Chapter Text

It will take a while

To make you smile

Somewhere in these eyes

I'm on your side

Your return was… harsh.

Astarion had even asked — no, begged — Shadowheart to come visit. He knew threats wouldn't work on her, and with your shared history, he thought it would do you some good to see her again. He insisted it was because of her healing knowledge, to take a look at you and make sure you had no remaining injuries, but she had seen right through it. He was worried about you, and couldn't keep it hidden underneath his allures of mighty vampire lord. At first, he promised her everything she wanted just to come and see you, and she was reluctant after your last discussion, but when the cleric saw how desperate he was, she indulged him — it's not everyday that you see the Vampire Ascendant beg. Even if she didn't approve of his choices, or yours for that matter, she still cared, and she put aside her grudge to come visit you.

Most of your cuts had indeed completely healed up after drinking another portion of Astarion’s blood. His blood offered you more power and clarity, better healing properties, and reinforced your bond, even if the later was the least of your concerns. Astarion didn’t want to pry, but in moments where you couldn’t even bring yourself to speak, as if your very voice had been stripped from you, your mutual connection had proven beneficial. You were able to reach out to him, if only to say “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” It didn't stop him from worrying the most.

Deep down, you knew, and you felt it through your bond, he still felt guilty for what had happened to you, even if he didn’t want to show it too obviously, as he didn’t want to make you feel lesser for what you had gone through. He knew you wouldn’t accept any pity and it would only insult you if he started treating you as such. You just wanted to go back to being… you.

And such a thing almost felt impossible now, not with the way you could still feel what Virric had carved into your skin, even with all your injuries gone. The memories themselves were forever carved in your memory, as they had been in your flesh. Whore, he had written over your arm; Plaything, he had written over the other, and to your utmost disgust, he had carved Pet over your chest. While you were there and the wounds would heal, he would retrace them until they were bleeding all over again.

Astarion had felt it all, and made a promise to never use the pet name again.

With her blessing, along with Astarion’s recommendation, you finally took up Shadowheart’s invitation to join her on her next adventure, something you should've done a while ago.

“Some fresh air would do you wonders,” she had said. “Plus, you could use some time in the sun. You look awfully pale.” Her attempt at humour had helped ease you into it.

Being outside, taking time away from the politics of a Lord’s life, and reconnecting with Shadowheart helped you greatly. You two spoke and after explaining to her everything that had happened until you met again, she understood better and dialed back her previous judgements, at least slightly. You had done what you thought was right, and sacrificed your mortality for the greater good, in the same way you had put your life on the line when you faced the netherbrain.

“I understand why you did it,” she said. “I just wish I had received your letter before you made that decision. I could've helped, made you reconsider.” There was a pause when she realised when you had sent word for her, how long ago it felt. “Maybe you would've never had to meet Virric.”

Some part of you wished it, too. But the rest of you were glad of your transformation despite the history related to it. You don't think you would've survived in that dungeon if it hadn't been for your new lifestyle, and you wouldn't have reconnected with Astarion without also having to face Virric. What’s done is done, and there is no point in lingering on what could’ve been, you told yourself, echoing the words Astarion had told you once upon a time, it’s up to me to do my best with the hand I was dealt.

You had a lot to consider after everything that had happened. After Virric, and the mention of your parents who, according to him, had also been on the lookout for you, you weren’t sure if you wanted to linger any longer as a member of the high society in Baldur’s Gate. It would be like walking right into a lion’s den; you didn’t know who else you would face that had alliances with Virric or your parents, who else could benefit from bringing back their fugitive daughter, who else could potentially buy your hand to fulfil their own agendas. You thought it would be best if you spent time away from the city — days or months, you didn’t know — just, time away. At least until the recent events were forgotten by the locals.

“Take the time you need,” Astarion had said. “I’ll be here when you come back. Always.”

There was still this lingering fear that your parents would keep trying to get back to you even with your betrothed dead — which, contrary to what he had supposed, no one really looked into. Shadowheart had helped cover up the murder after knowing what he had done, and spread the news — with the help of her Selunite sisters — that a group of bandits had gotten back to him and his partners for double-crossing them, and no one questioned it. That told you everything you needed to know about him and his schemes. Good riddance.

But, as opposed to him, your parents were still very much alive. They weren’t located in Baldur’s Gate, thank the Gods, but they were alive nonetheless, somewhere, and potentially also looking for you. You had no news about them, but Astarion promised to look into them while you were gone, and to be by your side if you wanted to wipe them from the surface of Faerun if that was your wish. He continuously showed his support in ways that were very typically him.

Astarion was right about your bond; it did extend to great distances, so much so that it made you wonder how far you needed to be for it to truly be inaccessible. The only thing that made it falter, you noticed, was when you were weakened by injuries or tired, which explained how you struggled to reach him when you were in the dungeons.

He respected the distance you needed, only trying to reach out a few times while you were away, as the bond could only work with the consent of both parties; if you refused him, he couldn’t linger in your mind, just as if he was unavailable, he wouldn’t be able to answer back to you. Truth be told, Astarion always made the time for you when you initiated the connection. It didn't matter if he was yet at another gathering, an important meeting, or busy in his office; if he felt you reaching out, he opened his mind to you.

He would never deny you — he had said — would never abandon you. And he kept true to his word.

You thought you would never be able to be yourself anymore, or be the same person you were before, anyway. Some parts of you had died in that dungeon; the innocence, or rather what was left of it, along with your ignorance; those parts of you that blindly believed in the goodness of the world, what pushed you to see the good in people. You spent many days having nothing but dark, negative thoughts for the world surrounding you. Even towards the villagers you helped, Shadowheart had to take care of socialising while you were brooding not too far from them. You thought killing more evil creatures would help you, but it only got you in a darker place, had you thinking, Why do they get to be saved when I wasn’t spared? When I still have to live with what was done to me? How is this fair?

Your friend had noticed your mood and had to pull you aside, she wouldn’t let you wander down that path of darkness if she had something to say about it.

“Take the bad days along with the good ones, but don't let them overshadow every aspect of your life. Remember to find the light within the darkness.”

Damn her and her history with Shar. She was right, and you were truly blessed to have her by your side; she knew just the right words to bring you back towards that light.

Slowly but surely, you came back to your old self. Well, as much as you could, trauma aside.

Some nights were more difficult than others. When you were left alone with your thoughts, and the itch to scratch your skin where you remembered he had touched you came back to you, you couldn't close your eyes without seeing him. It got so bad that Shadowheart agreed to cast sleep on you on the worst nights to force the thoughts away. Thanks to your vampiric nature, you didn’t dream; you were finally starting to see the silver lining to your immortality, and embracing it fully.

After a few tendays, you eventually noticed that the scars from your time with Virric had finally fully faded, and through your continuous feeding of Astarion’s rations of his blood — solely for healing purposes, as you were not interested in boar blood — Virric’s presence on your body had completely vanished. The new wounds you got in your latest battles covered the ones you had suffered under his hand, and soon enough, you weren’t able to make a difference between the two, as they healed and faded together, leaving you only with your bite mark from Astarion.

From time to time you indulged in a little banter with Astarion through your bond, he gave you some news about how things were going back at the palace, occasionally complaining about the current political drama among the local dirigeants, and you told him about your time spent with Shadowheart. One night you spoke to great lengths about a battle you had the same day. You had managed to find the location of a goblin settlement, and successfully wiped them out. It had been a bloodbath, but it had felt great to be back in your element, fighting on the field. The mention of the messy fight had Astarion tell you about the aftermath of your fight with Virric the night of the soiree.

“Really, you made a mess up there. It took four of my spawns to clean every trace of blood there was. They had to scrub the walls and even replace the carpet — without mentioning disposing of the bodies, Gods, they reeked. The flowers from the garden sure helped cover the smell.” He sighed dramatically. “Remind me to never upset you, darling.”

Behind his complaints, you heard a tint of pride. “I’m sorry I stained your carpets, my Lord,” you said, “I’ll make sure to aim for a bucket the next time I slash someone’s throat.”

“That would be most appreciated, dear.”

For the first time in a while, you smiled, a true smile, and you hoped Astarion sensed it.

The next morning, you let Shadowheart know that you’re ready to go home.

When you reach the palace, the door is unlocked, just as Astarion had said before. As you walk in, there's something different about the halls, unlike the first time you stepped in, somehow it feels… comforting. It truly feels like home, something you hadn't had the luxury to have these last few years. Something you didn't think you would ever have again. When you finally take in the sight of it, and realise how much this place means to you now, tears swell up your eyes, as the weight you carried around for the past weeks — all the anger, the anxiety, the sorrows — gets lifted off your shoulders at once. You close your eyes, as you let a lone tear go down your cheek, and a smile forms on your lips.

Home.

You hear a familiar voice down the hall say before it rushes towards you and you barely have the time to open your eyes when arms surround you, holding you tightly — only for a brief moment — before they pull away, to take in the sight of Amedee.

She helps you settle back in and assists you with a bath — one that was long overdue, she points out — as she asks you about your trip and requests all the details about it. You tell her the most interesting parts, without skipping over the gory parts, as you know those were oddly the one that interested her the most, and after you're done with your stories, a comfortable silence takes place. It doesn’t last long, as your next words are a question, one you always wondered about that was left unexplained to you, a missing piece in your memory.

“Back at the soiree,” you begin, “What happened after I passed out?”

She takes a deep breath as she washes out your hair, and explains everything that had happened after you lost consciousness during your fight with Virric.

Since she had been the one sent out for your rescue when Astarion couldn't reach out to you, or any other spawn for that matter since he was also affected by your attack, Amedee did everything she could to rescue you; as your personally assigned assistant, it was her responsibility, but also as your friend. When she reached you, Virric was already taking you away and Alstaer refused to let her interfere, locking her in this fight with him. When she was finally done with the remaining brother, Virric's trail was cold, leaving her with close to no information on your whereabouts. Your disappearance had taken a great toll on her, and she took it upon herself to do everything she could to help Astarion in finding you.

All the spawns had been instructed to search the town, but their weakness to the sun had prevented them from searching once morning came. It's only after your second communication to Astarion, when you mentioned the damp, cold air, along with the lack of knowledge on the time outside that Amedee brought up the possibility of being hidden away in the sewers. Virric wasn't the strong type; he couldn't have carried you out of the city, so everyone was dispatched to search the sewers. Astarion sent the order to save you and only restrain Virric so he could kill him himself, but using his bond to you, Astarion managed to find you first, with an already very dead Virric.

Hearing her describe the length at which, not only Astarion, but all of them — and especially Amedee — had gone to find you, has your heart tightening in your chest.

When you ask her if she could ever forgive you for that time you knocked her out to run to the tavern, she only asks that you also forgive her for not being able to help you more when you needed it most, as she felt like she had failed you as a friend.

You agree to it, but under the condition that she calls you by your name from now on; no more titles, no more formalities.

She only smiles and nods.

Astarion had been out on an errand before you had arrived, and since you kept silent through the bond, he had no idea you were back.

It’s only later in the evening, as he strolls back to his office that he finds his lover lingering in the gardens. When he sees her again for the first time in months, he’s simply stunned. He had patiently been waiting for her return, going over his own ordeal of emotions following the events, and although he had kept his nightly discussions with his consort to purely superficial topics, it didn’t stop him from ruminating on his own following their exchanges. He had wondered what he would tell her once she finally came back — if she came back. There was always the possibility of her deciding to leave, realising that being with him had been a mistake and that she would be better off without him, away from anything that reminded her of her past.

But as he sees her observing the new flowers now adoring the bushes, in yet another dress he had commissioned just for her, no words come to mind. Only awe at the woman she had become, his beloved, strong bride.

Although you had preferred pants and shirts in the past, you began enjoying the feeling of casual dresses. Now that you were back to your closet full of clothes made especially for you, and not looking to go adventuring anytime soon, you lost no time changing into one of your newer dresses after your bath. You opted for one that was a paler shade of blue than your previous royal blue ones, adorned by gold vines on the sleeves, and a plunging collar, barely covered by your hair cascading down.

You don't see him at first, too enraptured by the beauty of nature that you didn’t appreciate as much as you should've, when you were mortal. There was now a pond covered in lotus flowers of various colours, which added a spark of life amongst the living dead filling the halls of the Crimson Palace. They had always been your favourite; you wonder if Astarion knew and it was on purpose or simply for their properties, as it was the case for the other flowers surrounding you.

You sit over a rock bench next to the pond, reaching for a lotus to take in its sweet and comforting aroma, while Astarion takes in the sight of you as he leans against the door of the backyard, basking in your immortal beauty a few more seconds, as he didn’t want to break your moment of respite, before forcing himself to declare his presence.

“Hello, my sweet.”

When your eyes meet, your face lights up, and the smile you wear beams brighter than the summer’s sun.

What makes this fragile world go 'round?

Were you ever lost?

Was she ever found?

Chapter Text

You're part of the dawn where the light comes from the dark

You're a part of the morning and everything matters

And we are, an atom and a star

You're a part of the movement and everything matters

It has been a year since your transformation. A year since you officially died and came back as Astarion’s dark consort; his bride, his eternal love. Since the incident with the corrupted nobles, you’ve only grown stronger, as much as a vampire – and he couldn’t be more proud of you – than as a couple.

Your return among his court was gradual. You were reluctant at first: the lingering fear from the dreadful soiree you experienced still affected you, so Astarion let you watch from the shadows; he would never force you to do something you didn't want to. It's only after two more months that you asked if you could attend, and only if you could stay by his side; your social anxiety wouldn't let you be alone in a room with so many strangers without feeling as if you were asphyxiated. He was beyond thrilled by your request, as he wanted nothing more than to introduce the whole world to his beloved.

It took some more time, but you found yourself joining in on discussions with lords about the state of the city and its economic state. Your teachings were buried deep in your memory, but you retained the most important parts of them, using those to show your knowledge and bring forward ideas to save the city from its downfall following the mindflayer attack. To your surprise, you found yourself right at your place within the high society; it was in your blood after all, and what was the point of running from it when you were clearly a natural? You found out that it was never your title that you dreaded, but rather the association to your parents and contributing to their schemes — something you were glad to not be a part of anymore.

The change was almost seamless: one day you were attached to Astarion's arm, never leaving his side, and the next, you were strolling through the crowd, knowing everyone's name, their occupation, and how influential they were. While Astarion was able to persuade more nobles to ally with him, you’ve been very successful at swaying people to your advantage, using your charms and wits to redirect power from the right people for the good of the city; together, you’re considered the strongest couple in Baldur’s Gate.

You proved yourself countless times, and he was always delighted to present you as his partner.

His equal.

After yet another successful night of dancing and socialising, one where you had convinced a neighbouring lord to fund an orphanage for the children who had lost their parents in the attack, you met up with your lover in your chambers to celebrate the news. In truth, everything you accomplished was a great reason to celebrate.

To see you act with the might of a Lady, smart and witty, and use every tool you had to your advantage made him swoon over you, and one of the best ways to express it was to worship you in bed, spending hours and hours devoting himself to you.

It’s something you thought you would struggle with — the intimacy after the violence you had endured — but you found yourself easily melting in his embrace once you were back at the palace. Just like that first night you spent together and he had let you guide that dance; upon your return, he let you take control until you were the one asking for him to take you however and wherever he wanted, how you grew to crave his touch, the look in his eyes when a sinful thought was shared across your connection, and the faint blush you could spy on cheeks and ears as he painted his vision of you via your bond. The endless teasing throughout the evening sure made the meetings more interesting, and less dreadful, if you had to admit it.

After a great season of events, Astarion cancelled all his meetings for the next tenday to devote his attention to you, and you only. No one was to disturb either of you unless they had a death wish.

And the night of that last meeting, any restraints had broken down, when you almost threw yourself at each other as soon as your last visitor had left the palace. It started out in the hallways, but you were quickly brought into his room to have the privacy you required. You spent the remainder of the night in bed, switching from making love to cuddling, until you were back to straddle him for more; unable to leave the other’s side or even spend a second without your bodies touching.

He kissed each and every part of your body, showing his devotion to you in such a delicate manner that turned you to putty in his hands, embracing away any pain your body had gone through. This past year, he had been the most attentive lover; always in the moment with you, making sure that your eyes met as his hips collided with yours, sharing the same breath that united you both, body and soul. As your bodies fused and you both came undone, you could sense the love, the utter adoration he had for you. Both of you grounded the other and reminded each other that you were not the result of your past; only you chose what to make of it.

There was no one else in the world who could understand you better than each other.

It’s only when you noticed dawn approaching as you nuzzled into his chest, that you realised how long you had been indulging in the other. You chuckled and commented on how you both could use some sleep, since if one of you was tired, the other would be too, and really, how impractical it would be to have you both incapacitated at once.

He took a look at you as he lazily caressed your hair and that’s when he was reminded of the one thing that had been on his mind these last few months. The one thing he dreaded, but couldn’t avoid anymore.

“There is a way, you know…” he said, his voice soft. “To sever the bond. Between creator and consort.” He pauses as you lift your head, frowning as you meet his gaze, and for a second he doubts if he should carry on, but quickly pushes the doubts aside; you deserved to know. To have a chance to decide for yourself, without any ultimatum.

“It is mostly painless,” he continued, “You would remain as you are, a full fledged vampire, but we wouldn’t share our connection anymore; no more mental discussion, no more shared sensations.” You looked at him with a thousand questions in your eyes, as this was the last thing you expected this morning. “I am willing to go through the procedure for you, should you desire it.”

You remained silent through your blinking, until you finally found the words that fought to get out. “You would… really do that?”

This proposition felt so unlike the Astarion who once had you chained up in his dungeons, something that he had agreed had been, and you quote, ‘impolite’, since you last spoke about it. He didn’t regret it — you wouldn’t be in his arms otherwise — but he supposed there could’ve been a better way to talk to you at the reunion.

“As much as I want to keep you all to myself, I can’t bring myself to keep you bound to me after what you’ve been through. It… wouldn’t be fair for me to make that decision for you. I want you to have the chance to make the choice yourself.”

You scanned his expression, and although you saw the sincerity, you also sensed grief. Breaking your bond would sever any type of connection between you both. A part of you would die along with it, and you would lose the possibility of lingering in each other's mind. Even though you understood his intentions, it didn’t make sense for him to propose this when he finally had you to himself. Against your best judgement, you peeked into his mind, searching for an explanation, and what you found completely shattered you.

By offering this to you, Astarion understood that there was a chance you might just… leave. With nothing holding you back, linking you to him, he thought you had no reason to stay. That the sole reason keeping you here was this bond, and even with how close you had become, how much you had grown together in your relationship, how utterly in love you were — in that moment, under all the false confidence, you saw right through him; he was convinced that once the bond was broken, you would leave. Run away from this mess that had been life at his side, and find someone who truly deserved you, saw you for your worth. That you could only degrade yourself if you stayed after what he had put you through. He didn’t believe for a second that you would continue to put up with this life if you had the choice, and yet, here he was proposing it to you, offering you this way out.

You gave him a soft smile, a reassuring one that you hoped carried the intention you had.

“I… would like that.” He nodded, understanding that this was a possibility, and he hoped you would take this opportunity, if only for your own sake, but it didn't hurt any less. “But I do have a condition.”

He smiled sadly, his features softening at hearing you bargaining, a bittersweet reminder of how all of this started. “Anything for you, my dear.”

You let your minds connect, telling him your request through your bond, and when you saw the light sparkle in his ruby eyes and his face light up, you knew there was nothing in the world he would like more.

It’s the warmth of the sun’s embrace that stirs Astarion awake this morning. Gods, he will never tire of it. If only for this reason, his ascension was well worth it, and no one will ever convince him otherwise.

That, and seeing his reflection again. He's lost count of the times he spent admiring himself; pausing at every mirror he had meticulously installed around the palace, stealing glances at his reflection, and lingering at the colour of his deep ruby eyes. Those same eyes that had sealed the fate of so many unfortunate souls; these deadly, beautiful weapons, that keep helping him charm the right people. How he went two hundred years without enjoying the sight of himself has him completely astounded. Needless to say, this was an issue no more, and long gone were the days of misery; Nearly two years later, he had everything he ever wanted, at long last.

Everything, and yet his most prized possession remained this little human fighter turned bride.

Really, the only person he ever truly wanted, that he ever loved, even. A feeling that had felt most foreign once upon a time. He never thought he could experience such a strong emotion, something that was forbidden to him just over three years ago — something he would’ve considered a weakness — turned into his greatest strength. A feeling that overwhelmed him to the point where he couldn’t restrain himself from physically expressing it; taking his dark consort in every room, every surface of the palace, until they were both panting, eyes half-lidded and lost in one another. That same feeling that would now have him chanting out her name all night long as he devoted himself to her; her body, her pleasure, her desire for him. How utterly blessed he was to have her just as enamoured for him as he was for her.

As he finally awakens from his reverie, he quickly picks up on the empty spot next to him. Curious, he thinks, she was never the early bird. When he lifts himself on his elbows, that's when he sees her on his balcony, and he takes the time to admire her; his consort, his love, still by his side through it all, blessed by the rising sun’s warmth. It took over a year more after their engagement, as Astarion couldn’t believe her decision to stay, but he finally got over the fear of losing her. After everything that had happened, and the opportunity she was given, she chose to stay and have a life with him. After everything, she still loved him just as deeply, and that day at the altar, she promised to spend the rest of her undead life showing him just how much she did love him.

Content with the sight of her, he finally gets up to join her on the balcony, without bothering to dress up. He sneaks up on her, snuggling her from behind, his hands wrapping around her waist, while he leaves playful kisses along her neck and shoulder to greet her.

“Mmmh, hello my treasure,” he murmurs in the crook of her neck. “Can’t sleep?”

“I was just admiring the sun,” she hums. “It’s funny, I never really bothered to appreciate it until I thought I could never be under its light,” she takes a deep breath as she closes her eyes, taking in the warmth she was basking in. “I never quite realised how beautiful this world is.”

She sighs in his embrace, but it's almost a moan, as she pushes back against him for more contact, “I didn’t think I would disturb you from your precious beauty sleep.”

He can hear her smile through her mumbling, and he smiles in return, “It’s your sleep I’m rather worried about dear.” His kisses linger on her neck, over the bite marks he birthed upon her skin an eternity ago. “And I think you should join me back in bed to remedy it.”

She laughs, “I’m not sure your idea of rest coincides with mine,” she turns around to face him and rests her hands on his bare chest. “Actually, I rather believe you will wear me out more than anything.”

He smirks as he presses her against the edge of the balcony, lifting her nightgown up before propping her up to rest atop it, guiding her legs to wrap around him. “Do you really think so little of me? That I would drag you to bed only to satisfy my carnal desires?”

“Well,” she rolls her eyes as she smiles, “you haven’t given me a reason that proves you would do otherwise.”

She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her, and in the same movement, he wraps his arms around her waist and leans into the nape of her neck, resuming his sweet attention. When his smile widens, he feels the creases in his cheeks, depicting the countless moments of happiness she brought him since she has blessed him with her company.

“I assure you, my love, my intentions were most pure,” he purrs.

She tilts her head aside, offering him more liberties with her neck. “Were they now? Well, if you say so, then I’m sure I can trust you to carry me to bed where I shall resume my rest.”

“Ah, but I’m afraid the offer has expired. You see,” his finger hooks the string of her nightgown, pulling it down, “now, all I can offer,” he pulls down the other one, revealing your breasts to the morning breeze, “is a morning spent fulfilling our matrimonial duties.”

“Matrimonial duties?” She exclaims ironically. “What unholy thoughts have you got in mind, I wonder.”

“I could show you, if you would indulge me,” his kisses over her skin become sloppy, his teeth softly grazing her skin while his tongue leaves a faint trail of saliva from her shoulder up to her ear, playfully nibbling it, while one hand reaches for her breast and the other finds its way in the heat between her legs.

“Ah– Astarion…” Her playful tone is replaced by soft moans as he takes a salacious pleasure in touching her in her most sensitive spots.

“What’s that, dear?” His fingers slide against her folds, not yet daring to dip further.

She groans, “You are incorrigible.”

“And yet, I don’t hear you asking me to stop,” he pinches her nipple between his fingers with the hand massaging her generous chest, while his other hand brushes over her clit, lingering near her entrance but intentionally avoiding it. As he hears her ragged breath, he pulls away, cutting any contact between the two of them, and languidly sucks on his fingers to taste her wetness, while his gaze focuses on her, before releasing his fingers with a pop. He tilts his head, with a playful look in his eyes, “Unless that’s what you want?”

She looks at him with lust clouding her vision, barely containing herself, “If you intend on teasing me, my lord, I hope you know what you’ve got coming for you.”

He leans back, assessing the vision of his consort completely lost in her need for him, with a salacious smile tugging at his lips, “My, my, is my little love threatening me?”

“Oh no,” her hands sneak into his hair to grab a handful of it before lightly pulling back and leaning into his ear, murmuring, “This is a promise.”

She lets go of his hair, leaving her hands wandering, and when their eyes meet again, they are darkened by their shared passion for each other. His voice comes out deeper, as he closes the distance between them, their lips now but a whisper apart.

“Then I believe I should make haste to tend to your needs, my lady.”

Their lips finally meet into a passionate kiss, the tenderness of it even surprising Astarion — considering the eager tone she had previously used — but he melts into it, pouring all of his longing into the kiss, just as she does when her hands pull back to hold his face closer. He picks her up from the edge of the balcony and carries her back into their room, where he lays her out on their bed and removes her nightgown, slowly unravelling her soft skin to the morning afterglow. The sight of her, bare before him — only for him; with her legs parted and inviting him in, her sex glistening from her need for him, her body bearing only the bite marks he had given her — is enough to break any restraints left in him. He couldn’t bear to tease her longer, he needed her as much as she needed him.

Licking his lips, he kneels at the end of the bed, crawling his way up to his wife. He lifts her leg over his shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses up to the apex of her thighs, until he reaches the centre of his desire. He breathes her in, the scent of her pleasure stirring something deep within him, before his tongue finds its way between her slick folds, where he finally licks her, from the bottom of her entrance right up to her clit.

She moans softly, already lost to the magic of his tongue, and that's when he lifts her thighs over his shoulders, locking her legs around him, and holding them in place to feast on his meal.

His tongue dives into her, reaching into the depth of her cunt and drinking in her nectar, the effects of it visibly affecting him, as his hardened cock throbs between his belly and the soft sheets of the bed. His hips move unconsciously, searching for a temporary relief as he moves his tongue out of her to lick his way back up, where he finds her swollen bud.

While his hand sneaks away from her thighs, into her dripping entrance, his eyes flick up to find her unravelling before him; her head thrown back, and her hands grabbing at the sheets, holding on for dear life.

“Gods, please…” she begs, her breathing failing her, and he smiles between her legs, as he pumps two fingers into her.

With a final flick of his tongue over her clit, he lifts his head up, still hitting that sweet spot inside of her, “Yes, little love?”

“I… I need you— gods, I need you.”

“You have me, my love,” he says, his voice soft like velvet. “All of me, however you wish.”

He knew what she meant, but he wanted to hear her say it. He would never tire of having her melt under his touch, coming apart under him.

“Inside me,” she whimpers as she clenches around his fingers working wonders inside of her. “Now.”

The urgency of her tone is clearly noticeable, but Astarion wants to push her further, “But I am inside you, my dear.”

She lifts herself up on her elbows, her hair completely dishevelled and her chest rising with each deep breath, staring down her husband with a mix of fury and lust. “If you don’t fuck me right this instant Asta— Ahhh ffffuck!”

While she was talking, Astarion went back to teasing her sensitive bud and accelerating the pace of his fingers thrusting in. “Oh, I’ll fuck you alright. By the time I'm done with your delicious cunt, you’ll only see stars, my sweet.”

He could easily make her go over the edge only with his mouth and his fingers; he had done it countless times in the past already, he was well aware of his abilities, but nothing compared to the feeling of her tightening around his cock and milking him dry while he pumped every drop of his seed into her. It was his favourite way to come with her, and he took great pleasure in making her shatter in every way imaginable. They had all the time in the world to discover the many ways she would cum under his touch.

“Mmh ahh— Pleasepleaseplease Astarion, I want to feel you inside of me, I’m begging you—” Her words get lost in her throat, instead replaced by cries as she nears her climax, until—

“Ah,” Astarion pulls away completely, “but how could I deny my lovely wife when she begs so beautifully.”

Her groans turn into small cries as his teasing starts to overwhelm her, and that’s when he drops her legs down on their bed and crawls over her, aligning himself with her swollen pussy, before linking their hands together to pin her down. He leans down and stops right before kissing her, simply to push her to the limits of her patience, and when she hisses at him for being just out of reach, he shoves his cock inside of her, stilling her.

He remains unmoving, always taking his time with his first thrust to take in the feelings of her tight walls, pulsing around him. Astarion rests his forehead on hers, their eyes lost in the other, carrying the words they had learned to communicate aloud after they had broken their bond.

Carrying on with this ritual had pushed them to communicate better and work on their relationship, creating a new type of bond with the other. They had learned to understand the other’s body language so well that sometimes, a simple look was enough to communicate their exact thoughts from across the room.

His fingers dig into the mattress as he tightens his hold on her, and he resumes his languid strokes, “Focus darling. I want to see every little expression you make while I fuck you. Can you do that for me?”

She tries to nod, but his depraved speech only pushes her further and faster to her climax, as she fights to keep her eyes open and focused on him.

When he feels her cunt’s grip thighten around him, he can barely contain himself anymore, “Fuck, just like that, love,” his groans and the wet sound of their hips slapping against each other gets only louder as he accelerates the pace, nearing his own climax, “Gods, you’re so tight around me— I’m gonna fill you up to the brim, and you’re gonna take it all like the good girl you are.”

A few more thrusts is all it takes to send her over the edge, screaming out as her climax erupts through her like electricity flowing through her veins, followed quickly by Astarion who stills inside of her, shooting thick ropes of come that leak out from her, onto their bedsheets. It was the least of his worries right now — he could always change them later, but he knew they would be ruined in the following hour regardless.

They both remain panting, basking in the bliss of their aftermath, until he takes a look at their hands still intertwined. On her right hand, he spies the sparkling diamond ring adorning her finger, the public display of their unison matching his own, and he brings it to his lips for a brief kiss, before taking the time to admire it, thinking back to how it all started.

“I told you, Lady Ancunín suits you beautifully, my love.”

She smiles sweetly, eyes tired from their lovemaking, “I wouldn't have it any other way.”

And he knew she spoke the truth. Their marriage didn't only solidify their relationship, but it protected her from solicitors who might've been tempted to try giving her advances after the news of Virric's death had been propagated, and by taking Astarion's last name, she was free from any remaining links to her family, a name she detached herself from completely years ago already, now legally unbinded.

She didn't even need to explain the extent of her reasoning; the second she proposed, Astarion was on his way to commission matching rings for them. Truth be told, he had wanted to make the proposal himself, but after knowing of her past with Virric, he didn’t dare bring it up first. She did give him the chance to announce the news at their next soiree, and it's the only thing he had spoken about that evening.

They would be Aeterna Amantes. Lovers forever, until the world burns down.

Gods know that he would burn the world down himself if she merely asked — not that she would ever, he knew her better than that — and she was the only one he would ever get on his knees for.

She was the goddess who finally answered his prayers that had gone unanswered all these years ago; the sun that made him feel alive once more; the brightest star that guided him throughout the night; the very reason he decided to live on, and yet, if it came to it, he knew he would die for her.

Pars avant l'aube

Quand la lumière veut nous voir

Quelque part dans le monde

Un oiseau s'endort sans bruit

Toi et moi

Dans la nuit on trouvera

Quelque part où déposer

Les fleurs qu'on a cueillies