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He was back in the kennels. The odious skeleton, Godey, gleefully watched Astarion torture himself under Cazadors orders, raucously laughing as the spawn followed the foul compulsion. Inserting bits of sharp metal beneath his fingernails, blood waterfalled down his pale hand but Astarion couldn't stop. Strings pulled his body, forcing him to be the compliment marionette, Astarion plucked another metal spike up, shaking hand bringing it to his pinky finger.
The screams had made his throat raw but he drove the metal down, letting out another pained yell as the pain bloomed. Tears cascaded down his cheeks as he worked the metal under his fingernail, sobs jolting his chest. He suspected Cazador was close by, listening to his screams like music. The vampire got off on torturing his spawn. Eventually the metal spikes were driven under the nails of his non-dominant hand, weeping as he wondered how he'd get the remaining metal under his dominant hand.
“Now it's my turn, boy,” said Godey, bony fingers grabbing his wrist and another metal spike.
Astarion could only wait for the spikes to run out.
He woke up screaming.
Soft white curls clung to his sweating forehead, hands frantically clambering around as he sat bolt upright, the scream dying in his throat. If he had a beating heart, it would be trying to claw it's way out of his chest. His frenzied eyes moved around the darkened tent, his mind still half back in the kennels. Fingertips tingled as he remembered the torture he went through. A broken sob wrecked his body.
As if he hadn't tranced at all, Eden aburtedly sat up beside him, magic crackling in his hands and read to strike. “What's happening? Are we under attack?” said Eden, his long red hair loosening from its ponytail. They'd been sharing a tent for a while now shortly after they started traversing the Shadow-Realm; having grown closer and trusting each other during their strange journeys.
Astarion sobbed further, hands clutching at his head as he tried shrinking into himself, tugging his hair strands. Eden blinked a few times, shaking off his sleep, admittedly noticing Astarion's sudden distress.
“Hey, hey, are you alright?” asked the wizard, dismissing his magic.
“My- my hands - there's blood -” he stuttered, furiously scrubbing at his hands, the phantom pain clinging around his fingertips.
His nails scraped along the pale flesh, opening up small scratches, blood beading along his skin. Swiftly grabbing the vampire's wrists to stop Astarion hurting himself further, knowing his panicked state was causing the frantic moment. Eden had heard the crying late in night but had never witnessed his panic attacks. Joining the strange group and escaping Szarr palace lessened Astarion's torturous existence, lessening his nightmares.
The ‘gift’ of the tadpole gave him freedom, no longer a slave to the orders given by his former master. He'd become at ease in the camp, slowly growing more comfortable with the others, opening up about his horrendous past. The ever loving and patient Eden accepted Astarion's scars and flaws, a pillar of strength who demanded nothing in return. How did he deserve such a beautiful soul by his side?
“Astarion, you aren't there any more,” said Eden, speaking softly and reassuring his lover, “you're safe. You're with me, no one is going to hurt you here. Everything is alright.”
“I - I - what -” spluttered Astarion, choking out a sob.
“What do you need?” asked Eden, gently holding the vampires arms, wanting to be as supportive as possible.
A huge knot in his throat prevented him from forming words, Astarion shaking his head wishing he could clean his hands. The fingertips still throbbed, reminding him of the inescapable horrors haunting his dreams. The violation made his skin crawl, disgust bubbling across his whole body. How could he touch Eden with such filthy hands? Astarion abruptly wrenched his wrists from Eden's grip.
Eden held up his hands but didn't touch Astarion, not wanting to distress him any further, watching the weeping vampire breath heavily, rocking backwards and forwards. If Astarion started clawing his skin again, Eden would stop him injuring himself further. He'd seen the vampire scrap along his body before, especially after they stopped the sexual part of their relationship. Astarion wasn't comfortable in his skin now he'd began a real relationship, subconsciously scraping his skin before he realised what was happening.
The nightmares weren't an odd occurrence. Astarion was grateful they didn't happen often, though previously he'd been alone, left weeping into his pillow. His haunted thoughts occured on a nightly basis when living in the Szarr palace. The only real escape being his nightly activities when luring victims into his arms, allowed to spend time in taverns and homes he'd been invited to.
But he'd always returned to his torturous existence, the briefest reprieve never enough. The others nearby would pointedly ignore his anguish, however, he did the exact same, knowing their situation wouldn't change. He'd sit alone amongst the spawn dormitory, stifling any sobs and screams, snuggling the only thing that bought him comfort.
A threadbare blanket he'd clung to, worn from his constant hugs, stained by tears and old blood from two hundred years of use. Astarion wasn't sure when his reliance upon the blanket started, many things in his early spawn life were a mere blur but he remembered the old blanket anchored him. He’d held it close around his angonised and naked body after Cazador carved his back up. Screams and weeping weren't unheard of in the spawn dormitories.
When the mind flayers plucked him out the palace, he'd been holding the blanket, somehow still in his possession after the tadpole was forced inside his skull. After the ship crashed, he held the blanket close to his chest amongst the smouldering debris, relieved that one thing which brought him comfort still remained. Pillaging a fire singed backpack from a nearby corpse, gathering any supplies he could find and carefully placing the folded blanket inside the pack.
Astarion blinked rapidly, searching for the blanket he'd cared for in two centuries, having done his best to wash out the blood, carefully snitching each tear. He needed it in his arms, to smell the familiar musk, feel the soft fabric against his sweating skin.
“Do you need me to leave?” whispered Eden, hesitantly. He didn't want to but if Astarion asked, he'd go. This was about the vampires comfort and boundaries, following anyting he said.
Astarion shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “Please don't,” he said, voice strained.
“Alright, alright. I’ll stay,” promised Eden, “what do you need?”
Astarion furiously wiped away his tears. “I don't know. I don't know,” he said, whole body still shaking.
“OK, OK,” said Eden, feeling lost, running a hand through his hand, “we'll get through this. Don't worry. I'm not leaving, I'm here for you, whatever you need.”
Astarion gulped, Adam's apple bobbing. “I know. I know,” he whispered, voice barely audibly.
Racking his brain for a solution, Eden thought back into his own life, searching for the things that brought him comfort after a nightmare. He quickly found the old, battered blanket he'd seen Astarion holding when he thought no one was looking, knowing it was an important item for the vampire. Bringing it forward, he formed a plan which Eden hoped would help Astarion calm down and get a peaceful night's rest.
“Astarion, can I touch you?” asked Eden, holding out his hands, waiting for the other man's permission.
The pale hesitated but then nodded, letting his paramour tenderly take hold of his quaking body. Eden smiled at him encouragingly, placing the old blanket along Astarion's knees, tucking him comfortably as he could. The high elf remained quiet, bottom lip quivering as Eden began taking care of him. He felt utterly useless, a foolish lump who couldn't take care of himself, needing others do it for him. But Eden's expression was of patience and understanding, adornation pouring out his eyes.
Taking everything slowly, grabbing a handkerchief out his pockets and gently wiping away the tear stains on Astarion's cheeks. Reaching for healing salve in his pack, he uncorked it and slowly rubbed the sweet smelling substance along the scratch marks the poor high elf inflicted upon himself. He winced, the marks slowly healing along his skin, Eden giving his hands a small squeeze.
Taking a shaky breath, Astarion had calmed down somewhat but he still shook like a scared animal. His eyes had glazed over, his mind vanishing off to a world far away. Eden wanted nothing more than to banish away those horrible feelings his lover had. If only things like that were so simple.
“Is it alright if I try something? My mum used to do it when I needed calming down after a nightmare,” said Eden, gathering up the collective furs inside the tent until a small hill formed in the centre.
Astarion let Eden guide him, reluctant to say anything, his top teeth lightly biting his bottom lip. Propping himself up on the gathered furs, Eden gathered Astarion within his arms, laying the high elves head along his chest. Being around five inches taller and three inches wider, Eden was a solid wall to rest against. Holding his distressed lover in a delicate embrace, Eden guided his white haired head to rest along his chest, ear resting where his heartbeat was.
Laying across his warm body, Astarion nuzzled into his paramour's chests, snuggly positioned between the other man's legs. He heard the steady thumping heartbeat gently pounding next to his ear, Eden's warmth reflecting off his long dead flesh. He feels safe within the wood elves arms, the anxiety slowly dying down. Summoning a mage hand, he pulled the beloved blanket up towards Astarion who gratefully held it in his arms. He tucked them under a few more blankets until they were securely wrapped up.
Tentatively, Eden began stroking his lover's white hair. Astarion tensed for a brief moment before melting into the touch. The steady rhythm calmed his frayed nerves, guided by the heartbeat and gentle touches. He never knew such light touches could cause so much comfort. And it was so nonsexual, no expectations, just existing close together. Astarion loved these moments with each other.
Eden lightly hummed, his chest vibrating. Astarion sighed contently, closing his eyes and listening to the humming. Warm and safe, winding the old blanket in his hands, Astarion felt his mind clear. It was a tune Eden recalled from his childhood his mother sang after he became upset. He remembered her voice was sweet, carrying the melody like a celestial. The words had become lost to him over the years, his parents having passed away when he was seven years old. Their last act was making sure Eden got to safety, sending their child through a portal as fire burnt behind them. The song melody was one of the few things he had left of them, sharing it with his love.
Eden made sure Astarion was comfortable in his protective embrace. Enveloped by warmth and lulled by the vibrations coming from his lovers chest. He dozed off, fingers intwining with Eden's camp shirt, breathing his familiar scent; fresh grass and light sweat, the feel of the forest. Gently running his hand around the wood elf's chest, Astarion sleepily smiled at Eden, the anixety and fear banished as if a spell had been cast.
“Are you feeling better?” asked Eden, stroking the back of Astarion's head.
Astarion nuzzed his face into the wood elf's strong chest. “Much better, my love. Thank you for tolerating me.”
Eden tilted Astarion's head up, his fingers under the other elf's chin. “Never say something that, my star. I'm want to support you, make you feel the worth you are. It isn't tolerating when I want nothing more than your happiness.”
“I worry -” said Astarion, stopping himself and averting his eyes.
“What do you worry about? Tell me, please,” said Eden, “nothing you say will upset me.”
Astarion held the blanket close to his cheek. It was a childish act but he couldn't recall his own childhood, vague memories floating around his years as a vampire spawn. The small comforts were the only thing he could cling to.
“Are you happy? You aren't just putting my happiness before mine and not saying anything?” asked Astarion, “I don't want to burden you. I worry this is too much for you.”
Eden wiped away a stray tear falling from Astarion's ruby eyes. “You're not a burden. You can never be that to me. I am happy with you but things aren't going to be magically fixed right away. I'm here for you and whatever you need.”
“What about what you need?” asked Astarion, “I feel so selfish, like I'm not giving anything in return.”
Eden leaned forward and kissed Astarion's forehead. “You do give things in return. You make me laugh, you’re passionate about your interests, you care even if you pretend not to show it. I will always let you know if it becomes too much.”
Astarion raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I care? I don't thnk I've ever given anyone that impression.”
The wizard chuckled, the rogues head bobbing up and down. “Really? Like you didn't restuff Clive and snitching his teared leg after Karlach was sad. Or compliment Gale's cooking by smell saying you wished you could taste it. And fixing Wyll's shirt after he struggled with his new horns.”
“Gale was a lot nicer to me after he discovered I was vampire, which I found strange,” mused Astarion.
Eden giggled. “That's because you never ate his food before he knew. He thought you didn't like his cooking.”
A hysterical laugh escaped Astarion, surpising himself. He rarely found himself happy after a panic attack, wallowing in it for at least two days afterwards. Eden had pulled away the darkness and restored the light.
“Thank you for being here,” said Astarion, cuddling his lover, “it means everything to me.”
The wizard kissed the high elf's forehead. “You're welcome, my star,” said Eden, rubbing Astarion's back, avoiding the scars, “lets get some rest.”
They both peacefully fell back into trance, holding each other closely as if the rest of the world didn't exist.