Work Text:
Astarion had been preparing to go on a hunt. It had been well past midnight and about high time for a snack. No amount of boars was enough to fill him up and he found himself going hungry more often than not. The camp was asleep. Gale and Karlach around the campfire along with their dearest leader. Whom, Astarion couldn’t help but notice, as he crept past them towards the clearing of a forest, seemed to be in the midst of a nightmare. A rather turbulent one- tossing to and fro, their long silver hair getting tangled up in various limbs, nightshirt riding up showing a sliver of dark grey skin. Astarion hesitated, his red eyes locked on her writhing body. A dark, urgent feeling washed over him. Like ice, drilling into his bones. The air had grown still and silent. He leapt backwards into a bush as Sigbrit suddenly sat up, drenched in sweat. Like someone hypnotised and tranquil, she walked straight towards the woods, her feet bare and eyes empty.
Astarion cursed under his breath. It was always something with these weirdos he had come to live with. As tempting as it was to let sleeping dogs lie and fuck off to do his own thing- he felt compelled to stalk her and keep a watchful eye on her. It wouldn’t do for Sigbrit to go off and die during the night. So he did- a good distance between them and none of the typical sights and sounds of the woods, they walked towards a clearing. it was bright, but not by moonlight. It shined far too much, in a shade far too removed for it to be anything natural. The grass, in a sharp angular border, shifted from a dark green to a lifeless shade of grey. Astarion hesitated crossing the border, shifting from one foot to another, sensing magic so outlandish and abstract that it surely would stomp even Gale. In the end, no decision had been necessary. A glimmer and a spark erupted from the clearing and Astarion leapt to his right and hid behind a great pine tree. Maybe not the best hiding spot but Sigbrit seemed otherwise preoccupied staring unblinkingly into an orb of bright lights with seemingly no origin. Astarion looked around, trying to spot whatever wizard or sorcerer could be behind this, but there was no one, not even any animals.
“Fuck this,” Astarion muttered and crossed the border into the lifeless land where his friend had found herself in. But the moment he did, the moment his boot met the ground- something shifted. The air grew electric and a wave of invisible force threw him off his feet. Where there once had been nothing in front of Sigbrit but light, something grew out of the orb. Something ancient and… magnificent . Absolutely horrifying, but so powerful Astarion could almost taste it. A creature of infinite unblinking eyes covering its body, expansive wings in quadruplets grew, towering over Sigbrit who remained still as a pillar of stone. The smell of lavender and… an electrical fire? filled the air around Astarion. It was cold and he was starting to see more and more of his breath. He remained on the ground, the cold seeping through his clothes and numbing his fingers. His attention was rapt on the creature's blank, darkened eyes.
Something was spoken. He didn’t understand it but a rumpling filled his bones and Sigbrit's lips moved in a careful manner; no words leaving her mouth, but leaving an ache in his chest. The fuck was going on? He had known of her being a warlock but had simply assumed that her situation was the same as Wyll’s- some fiend secretly pulling and prodding them in every which direction. Not whatever the fuck this was, hovering, growing and pulsating in front of her. Its colour was in a shade he had never seen and focusing too hard on it only left him with a serious pulsing headache. He tried to speak, cry out to Sigbrit, cursing and questioning whatever was happening, but his throat had closed up and left no sound to the pleading.
The creature moved closer to Sigbrit. A heat emanated from it. Waves of coloured mist moved into her in tendrils, dancing into and around her. It moved through her. Eyes now focused on Astarion. His whole body hurt. An indescribable pain moved through him, a pain not felt since… since then. He had violated something. Observed a pact- a transaction not meant for his observance. Not for his eyes. His eyes! They burned, and he screamed out. His voice was hoarse and unknowable. Sigbrit collapsed as if gravity pulled her down with an incredible force. The creature blinked, sharp canine-like teeth as eyelids closed and opened. Astarion cried, and everything went dark.
Hours later, Astarion woke up back in his tent with no memory of how he had gotten there. Sigbrit sat by the dead campfire, talking quietly with Gale, empty bowls beside them. Her eyes darted to and fro back between the wizard and the vampire. Dark bags underlining them. An unease was shared between her and Astarion. It had not been a dream. It had been real. Astarion reached for a bottle of wine.