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Astarion Ancunin. Born 1229 DR. Died 1268 DR.
Barely 39 years old, a young age for your life to end as an elf, especially one of a noble background at that. He longed to see his reflection again, not for the pure vanity of it all, just simply because he could. He wished to see his previously green hued irises that bore a stark contrast against his already pale features, wishing to see the mischievous glint his parents and friends spoke about once more. Alas, he could not. Amongst his other miseries, in the 200 years had passed since he became Cazador's vampire spawn, not once in those two centuries had he lusted for love.
The mere wording could have torn a hearty laugh out of him, only if it had not been the cold hard reality of his predicament. He had spotted you on the Nautiloid ship, the familiar feeling of loathing seeping into him as his mind conjured up ways to take you down. That was until the common parasite made itself known, easing tensions and changing plans for better or for worse.
For Astarion, his mind tore between the two options. Oh, how he despised the idea of being tied to someone; he would not be bound to anyone ever again in any shape or form. A tactical ally was what you were, what you were supposed to be and that was it. Clean, simple, done and dusted. That was until he started noticing things one does not simply take note of if they merely see the person as a temporary benefit, a solution to a dire situation. It started with your need to help every gods damned thing you crossed paths with? Including himself!
Then it was the way you so bravely fought alongside everyone, for everyone, a fierce burn in your eyes that he couldn't help but be enamored by. He was almost envious of your selflessness, until he learnt that you both were not too different.
"You think I do this for the fun of it?" you had muttered to him one night by the fire, the glow of the unwavering flames shadowing the deep frown that found its way onto your face. He had previously made a passing remark about how it seemed that you thought the entirety of Sword Coast would simply give way to you and your companions since you decided to take on every Tom, Dick and Harry's tribulations. He hadn't anticipated how that comment would stir you, however.
"I just want to fucking survive. Just like you, just like everyone else in the damn camp."
He had never heard your voice laced with such rancour like he did that night. Not once in the few weeks of traveling together had you voiced your thoughts like this. Astarion felt almost honored to have witnessed it. Almost.
So you weren't just some heroic warrior who played doormat to make everyone happy. You were simply a person who was trying to get out of this alive, doing whatever you deemed fit to reach your goal, to survive. Just like him. He had gained a new found respect for you in a way after that. His manipulation tactics still intact however, he was ever so hesitant. Every touch, every smile, every word he uttered to lure you closer was not so much a game anymore, but something genuine. He stood a bit closer to you, whether it be in conversations in camp, caves or on the raging battlefield. He realised soon enough that he wasn't selfishly fighting for himself anymore, but for you as well.
That realisation hit him grotesquely hard after you had been downed in battle, a worg having gotten one too many hits on you in your already severely weakened state. At your howl of pain, his head whipped towards the sound, his ruby red eyes frantically searching the ground amongst other scattered bodies.
"Someone please get to them!" Astarion cried out, desperately looking towards his party mates in search for an answer, parrying slashes from another worg targeting him. Gale, oh how he abhorred the man, managed to dash towards you, attacking the monsters that surrounded your severely wounded form. He registered mid dodge that the new found anguish he felt at the thought of losing you was far more than just the loss of a valuable ally, but as someone he had come to deeply care for. It was not the worg that had knocked the metaphorical breath out of him, but the sheer weight of his revelation. Things would never be the same for him again.
When the fight had died down, you had limped back to to your tent with the help of Shadowheart and Karlach, who had been patiently waiting for the party's return. Astarion and Gale hung back from the group.
"You will never hear these words leave me mouth ever again, well, at least not directed towards you," Astarion hissed, begrudgingly turning to face the slightly taller man.
"Thank you... Thank you for saving them."
Gale looked like he had witnessed a supernatural phenomenon, eyes wide from shock, mouth agape.
"The flies will make a fine living space in that mouth of yours if you don't shut it," Astarion tutted mordantly. He wanted to hate the man, however the little stunt he had pulled with you put him in Astarion's good books for a day or two. Three, if Astarion was feeling generous. Gale, now regaining his composure, smirked softly at the angsty elven vampire spawn infront of him.
"I did it for them, not for you. Don't get your hopes up with me."
With an indignant huff, Astarion made his way to your tent where Shadowheart tenderly healed you up. Karlach was infront of the tent, nervously chewing at the skin of her fingers, her flames flickering side to side as if they were just as agitated.
"Hey, fancy boy. They're gonna be okay," Karlach reassured him, despite her own obvious concern. Karlach had been observing how Astarion would glance at you, his red eyes taking in all your features with genuine interest, as if he was an artist admiring a painting. And now, his usual "fuck you, this and me" attitude he had going on, was not as terrible when it came to you. He was clearly a softy when it came to their beloved party leader.
Astarion himself had long forgotten about his little plan to seduce you and win you over at this point, all he cared about was seeing those deep, intelligent eyes of yours crease at the corners when you smiled, for your lips to utter his name softly, like a prayer, like he was not some blood-sucking monster, but a friend at the very least. He wanted to hear your laugh when he was being a smart-ass, to hear your scolding when he took too long to get ready in the mornings.
For 200 years he lured and killed pretty faces for his master. For 200 years he believed that he would never love nor would he ever be loved. That was until he met you. You made those centuries of aimless wondering seem worth it. And he would wonder for centuries yet again if it meant he could stay by your side and that was the scariest part to say out loud. To say that he-
"-starion. Astarion they asked for you," Shadowheart broke him out of his thoughts, emerging from your tent with a calm smile. He could feel the wave of relief that washed over him at those words, despite the mixture of uncertainty of why you had called him of all people. Nodding, Astarion ducked beneath the tent flap, his eyes landing on your form that was laying against the pillows Astarion had lent to you a while back.
"Hey, Stary," your smile was weak, but it was enough for Astarion to lurch forward towards you, resting his forehead against your shoulder as gently as he could.
"Hello, darling," Astarion whispered softly, as if a decibel louder could hurt you further. Raising his head, his eyes searched your own. They were glittery, like the little stars in the sky that his parents so graciously named him after.
"Shadowheart said that you had called out for someone to help me. I wanted to say thank you. If you hadn't," you were promptly cut off by Astarion's sharp voice,
"No. Don't even utter the idea. You scared me half to death."
You manage a feeble chuckle that came out more as an exhale,
"Does our resident vampire not have any jokes to cheer us up?"
Astarion gazed at you with a look you couldn't quite place.
"I'd be funny if it was anyone but you, my love."
"Astarion-" you want to cut in however, Astarion continues,
"You - you're incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real. I want to be able to take care of you."
Dumbfounded at his confession, you reach out to hold his hand, which he gladly accepts, gently caressing your knuckles before bringing them up to his lips to press a lingering kiss onto them.
"Look, I had a plan," Astarion anxiously rubbed your knuckles as he looked down at his lap.
"A nice, simple plan - seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn on me."
Astarion couldn't help but notice the look of understandable hurt cross your features. He continued,
"And all I had to do was not fall for you... Which is where my nice, simple plan tell apart."
"Astarion..." you whispered, squeezing his fingers back. He wasn't going to let this feeling go, let you go. He couldn't, not now or ever.
"I don't know what this is. But for the first time in two centuries I've wanted something for myself and I want this. I want you."
Your eyes widened, glistening with something resembling hope.
"I want this too. I want you too. I want the real you, though. Not Cazador's Astarion."
Astarion grimaced at his former master's name. He decided to grin and bear the distaste, allowing you to have your say in this matter.
"If I told you where I've been, what I've done, would you still care for me like you do? I don't want you to see me as some blood thirsty monster," Astarion spat the word 'monster' out like it was poison.
Leaning up to grasp his cool cheeks, you pull him in close, allowing his head to lay in the crook of your neck. Astarion let out a small sigh of content, inhaling your scent that was so uniquely you that it warmed up his unnaturally cold body.
"You aren't a monster, Astarion. You are so much more than what Cazador made you. Tell me your stories and I won't judge you. I won't call you crazy. I promise, Stary."
His eyes watered slightly at your words, swallowing thickly before bringing his hand up to caress your cheek, thumb brushing tenderly over the bruises that he wished were never there.
"I don't... love, like I used to. You deserve something real. Something pure," he croaked. You shook your head softly, a little smile on your lips.
"Then we can learn together. One step at a time, like a waltz. You have me, Astarion. I'm not going anywhere, okay?"
Astarion nodded, the tears finally escaping and sliding down his cheeks. He wanted to kiss you, oh so much, to devour you entirely.
"May I... kiss you? Please?" Astarion asked, almost too politely, like he was on the verge of begging for it. Instead of responding with words, you weaved your fingers through his locks, tucking him towards you so that your lips could meet his.Astarion sighed into the kiss, loving how sweetly you held him, spoke to him, regarded him.
With you he was reminded of not who he was, but what he was to become.
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