Chapter Text
Every night for the past several nights, you could sense the change. Even now, Astarion’s words had chased through your thoughts, sending an unrelenting chill down your spine as you recalled the cold gleam in his eyes, the intensity in his voice.
“Our lives will never be the same again. Everything will be ours. Everything.”
Despite your discomfort, you had initially dismissed his strange demeanor as years - no, centuries of pent-up, justified elation at finally ridding himself of his cruel Master. To finally have an impossible dream now fully realized. Such a prospect would be overwhelming for anyone.
In one fell swoop, Astarion had usurped Cazador’s place and had fully rid himself of the shackles of his former vampiric weaknesses. After enduring years of an unfathomable and tormented existence, he would finally experience what it was like to feel alive again.
Truly, you couldn’t fault him for his unbridled enthusiasm. Rather, you had hoped that once his passions had sufficiently cooled and the novelty had subsided, Astarion would eventually return to how he used to be. And yet, in the days following since, his intensity only seemed to grow more pronounced.
More concerningly, his focus seemed to be drawn inexplicably toward you.
The playful, teasing banter you had once shared had since evaporated. In its place, you could feel the weight of Astarion’s hungering gaze as it followed you wherever you traveled. The soft, tentative caresses as you delicately held each other in the night had been replaced with an obsessive need to touch, to hold, to claim.
It was an uncomfortable situation all around, and you had made subtle efforts to place some distance between the two of you. However, the more you withdrew, the more determined Astarion seemed to cling to you. Desperately.
“Like a possession.” Gale had once opined on your behalf, your former conversation having been interrupted with Astarion’s unwelcome presence, as the vampire had wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you into his chest before resting his chin upon your shoulder; all the while holding Gale’s gaze in challenge. “She is my treasure. Of course I would want to keep her close.”
You had felt his heated lips press against the juncture of your neck, as if marking you. In contrast to his tender affections toward you, you could hear his cold voice grit out threateningly, “I must keep her safe from anyone who would dare steal her away from me .”
You hadn’t slept well these past few nights, as terrifying and unrelenting nightmares had plagued you every time you lay your head down to rest. On more than one occasion, you had dreamt of awakening at your camp, only to find all of your companions having been slaughtered in their sleep, their blood spilling across the floor and walls like a macabre painting. At other times, you had dreamt of being trapped within a coffin, the air slowly suffocating you, as you desperately pounded against the unyielding wood - screaming for help that would never come.
The most recurrent and disturbing dream, however, was one where Astarion had simply held you in his arms, his smile tinged with blood. Your blood.
No matter how much you had attempted to break free, he simply gripped you tighter and tighter - an inescapable cage.
“It’s too late for that, little love. You are mine!”
Even at your abrupt awakening, you could still hear Astarion’s cruel laughter echoing within your head.
—
After a grueling day of adventuring, you could already feel your weary body protest with every movement, your muscles straining with fatigue as you struggled to plant one foot in front of the other. Your restless nights had finally caught up with you.
You only hoped the nightmares would be blissfully absent tonight.
The night was still young when you managed to break away from your traveling companions. You could still hear the din of the Elfsong Tavern floating up to the stairwell as you trudged upwards to reach your private chambers.
“Going somewhere, my sweet?”
You jump, instinctually unsheathing the dagger at your side with a flourish. Your coordination however, suffered from your lack of proper rest, causing yourself to grip the blade rather than the hilt. You could feel the sharp bite of metal against your palm, before quickly readjusting your hand to correct your mistake.
You belatedly recognized Astarion’s form casually leaning against the wall opposite of your room, partially cloaked in shadow.
“Astarion! By the Gods, you startled me!” You relax your stance, taking a small step back. Yet there was a lingering wariness in the back of your mind, whispering to you that danger was still near. Even in the dim light, you could see Astarion’s lips turned upward, amused.
You made no move to sheathe your blade.
With an unhurried grace, he pushed himself from the wall, taking several steps closer toward you. The moonlight streaming through the windows illuminated his features, bathing his fair hair and skin in an ethereal glow - one could almost mistake him for an aasimar. But the way his piercing eyes raked over you hungrily - it reminded you of a predator stalking its prey.
You felt yourself grip your dagger even more firmly.
With languid movements, Astarion's fingers reach out to delicately trace his fingers along your shoulder, down your arm, before gently taking hold of your wrist - your hand still clutching the dagger as if it were a lifeline. Perhaps it was.
With all of the tenderness in the world, he lifts your wrist to the level of his gaze before his eyes sweep over to meet yours, his smile never leaving him.
“Drop the dagger, darling.”
Your mind suddenly feels hazy, an unusual thrum resonating within your skull. Wordlessly, you could feel the grip on your dagger loosening before slipping from numb fingers, sending it clattering to the floor.
The intensity in his eyes seemed to diminish, and you felt your head gradually clear itself from the noise. Before you could register what in the hells just happened, you could hear him tut disapprovingly.
“Honestly, darling. Hurting yourself like that?” He didn't bother to mask his patronizing tone. “Must I take away all of your toys to prevent this in the future?” He broke his gaze from you, focusing instead on the shallow cut against your palm.
Your immediate instinct was to snap out a sharp rebuke of your own. However, the words quickly died in your throat, as you felt the soft brush of his lips against your wound, causing you to wince at the contact.
Astarion’s eyes drifted closed as he lathed his mouth over your palm, savoring the taste of you. Despite yourself, you could feel yourself squirm uncomfortably, the pain gradually morphing into pleasure with every swipe of his tongue. You bit back several whimpers, as he continued his ministrations. You were mortified by your reaction.
Unlike you, however, Astarion appeared to be relishing in every stifled cry falling from your lips.
This had gone on long enough. You attempt to tug your hand away, but he simply readjusted his hold before slanting his mouth over you at a different angle. “Astarion, stop.”
You could feel the smile on your skin before he lazily opened his eyes, refocusing his attention back to you. “Whatever is the matter, dear? You don’t want me to kiss it all better?” his voice dropped suggestively.
“That’s not what you’re doing.”
A dark chuckle. “Not everything has to be a zero sum game, pet. We’ve both benefited greatly from each other, haven’t we?”
Surprisingly, he relinquishes his hold over your wrist. You quickly snatch it away from his reach, attempting to take several steps back before you feel your shoulder collide with the door to your room. You shoot a quick glance behind, before your eyes snap back to meet Astarion's unrelenting gaze.
You wish you hadn't.
“You especially have done so much for me.” He stalked forward, eyes never breaking contact from yours.
There was nowhere to run.
“I would like to return the favor.”