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Our Lady of the Cape was a beautiful ship wreck facing a never ending sunset; one of Axael’s favorite spots in the little piece of heaven he had created in his dreams. His magic permitted him to control them to perfection, and most importantly, to see, so he was sprawled on a net of ropes, facing a sunset that never really existed.
How long had it been since he hadn’t come here? He purposefully let his tail fall between the cracks of the net to let its tip brush the surface of the water, enjoying the coldness of it on his skin; he savored the sounds of the imaginary waves crashing beneath him, the colors of the sky above him, the fresh smell of the sea around him.
The net he was sprawled upon was outstretched between the mainmast and two submerged railings of the front deck, a half underwater hammock of ropes from where he had a perfect view of the permanent sunset. But Axael couldn’t bring himself to relax enough to enjoy it.
His mind kept going back to whatever had happened the night before, trying to figure out another course of actions that would have resulted in a far better outcome than that. And until then he had always been able to notice it when Astarion performed his affections, why not now? What if he had noticed it immediately after he had started to drift away? And what if he hadn’t noticed at all?
Eventually, his intensive reflexions started to be reflected in the state of the dream: the ground started to shake and the sky started to crack, while the waves became more and more agitated. Axael took a deep breath, and focused on his hand, visualizing a Cube, which immediately materialized as a fractured figure between his fingers.
The Cube was a tip from his mother, when his dreams started to fall apart, visualizing a Cube that represented the state of his dream always helped. He focused on it, repairing the structure of it with a simple movement of his fingers over the fractured surface. The ground stopped shaking, the sky repaired itself, the waves calmed their pace, and a figure was standing in front of him, watching the sun too.
----
When Astarion opened his eyes he was on a net of ropes in a half submerged shipwreck. He was not used to dreaming. His usual trance only made him remember fragments of his life, which usually weren’t pleasant, and he had to admit that this change of scenery was more than welcome. He still had no idea how Axael made it possible for him to actually sleep, but this was the least of his problems at the moment.
The last time, he had dreamt he was strolling through the empty streets of Baldur’s gate, which had been odd, since the town was always buzzing with life, even in the dead of night. And then there had been this singing cat, then…Oh well, he didn’t really remember the rest, and it probably wasn’t important. Now, a beautiful sunset was shining in front of him, illuminating him with a soft golden glow.
But he didn’t quite have the time to enjoy it, since a second later, something in his peripheral vision moved and he felt the cold steel of a sword biting the side of his neck.
“I don’t know you, do I?” said a familiar voice.
Slowly, Astarion turned towards the source of the voice, hands up in the air, and a playful smile on his lips. To his surprise, Axael’s reaction had not been to lower his sword and profusely apologize like he tended to do when he wronged people; this time, his eyes widened in horror, and the blade dug deeper into Astarion’s neck. Yeah, it was a dream after all…
“What the fuck are you?” he murmured to himself as he examined Astarion, which meant that this dream version of himcould actually see. He knew he was in a dream, and technically, he knew he couldn’t get actually hurt, but the feeling of cold steel, and his expression of cold calculation sent shivers down his spine regardless.
“Darling, I fear this is not a very polite way to greet a friend.” He said while he pushed the blade away from his neck. He watched his expression shift from mistrust, to confusion, to shock, and to worry in the span of a second before the sword vanished into thin air.
“Astarion? Oh, shit, I’m sorry, You’re…” His tone was full of worry, and...was it pity? No, it was compassion, and guilt. He brushed a gentle hand on Astarion’s face. “I’m so sorry…”
Oh, right. That. Honestly, the whole dissociation thing had been happening for so long by that point, that it didn’t phase him all that much anymore. Axael couldn’t look at him in the eye. He had to reassure him that everything was fine, really. Except it wasn’t fine, was it? He had wanted to stop, but didn’t say a thing in fear of disappointing his partner, and that had resulted in a terrible night for the both of them.
Was it what he had to do? Convince Dream Axael that everything was alright? Technically, he knew that the tiefling had promised him protection, no matter what, and that he didn’t need to lie about it, but he still wanted to stay on his good side, just in case.
He knew that if he failed to convince him of his lies, Axael would most likely take some distance from him, to be sure not to hurt him again. This dream would be a perfect training for when he would have to confront him in real life.
He took Dream Axael’s hand, and placed a kiss on it’s palm. “Don’t apologize, darling, I’m okay now, thanks to you I might add, now, why don’t you-”
“Stop brushing it off like it’s nothing!” Dream Axael interrupted, taking his hand back. Really, the more he talked, the more it felt like he was actually talking to his companion, and not just a product of his imagination, just like this weird Dream Visitor that seemed to haunt their party.
The more he talked, the more Astarion understood that this was not just a simple dream.
“You’re not just a figure from my dream, are you?” He asked. “Tomorrow, you will remember this, right?”
Axael sat down on the net of ropes, sighing as he went down, and inciting Astarion to do the same. “You’re right, I fell asleep after you, and I accidentally brought you in my own dream.” The vampire followed him down, noticing that he still didn’t look at him in the eye. “I know what it’s like, to have your identity stripped away from you, to only exist to please your partners, because that’s the only value you think you have, and I know how hard it is to stop thinking that way. You’re not alone in that. Which is why I’m apologizing, You’re not to blame here, I am.”
Shit . Well, at least, he wasn’t mad at him, which, even if expected from Axael, was still a nice novelty.
“Technically, I was the one in charge,” Astarion said tentatively, “I should have said something. Technically I’m the one who pushed your limits.”
“And you weren’t in your right state of mind, while I was. It was my responsibility to stop things if it went too far; and I failed you, and for that, I am sorry.”
Astarion sighed. “I told you, you weren’t supposed to notice that.” I’ve been doing this for centuries, what’s one more time?
Axael bit his lip, still avoiding Astarion’s gaze. “I think it’s for the best that we stop having sex altogether. Last time, we had agreed it would be a one time thing, none of us has respected that. You promised me you would tell me if you wanted to stop, but you didn’t. I promised I wouldn’t force you to do anything, but…”
Astarion’s blood ran cold. If anything, he was grateful things had stopped before their “session” went too far, but clearly, to Axael’s standards, even that had been too far. But he was right, so far, all they had gained from those two pitiful attempts at having sex had been two drops, and awful consequences for the both of them. This couldn’t work. Astarion loathed to admit it, but he wasn’t ready to have sex so casually without it being nothing more than an act. Not yet, at least.
“Axael, look a me.” The bard obliged, searching his face like he couldn’t quite find his eyes. “You did not fuck this up, I’m fine, really. Well, maybe we both fucked up a little back there, but don’t you dare take responsibility for my actions.” He took a deep breath, taking his time to think about the words he was about to say. “Although, you’re right,” he could do it, he could say it, “we should stop.”
He felt…empty. Like Astarion had just severed one of his own limbs, because if he couldn’t be the sex doll he had been shaped into, what else could he be? But Axael was looking at him with such hope, he had to try.
Once again, the other man’s gaze fled towards his own fidgety hands. “I’m glad we’re on the same page, regarding this.” He seemed on the verge of tears. “But I’d still like to apologize. Sincerely.”
“Axael, how long has it been since you’ve slept?” Axael’s lack of reaction was a confession on its own. “Exhausted as you were, it’s not that surprising that you didn’t notice. If you really wish to blame someone, blame the both of us.”
The tiefling risked another gaze towards Astarion, only to divert it a second later. At least, this time he seemed a little more relaxed, so the vampire took his chance to change the subject.
“You keep avoiding looking at me, do I have something on my face?”
Finally, Axael managed to maintain his chestnut gaze upon Astarion’s face for more than a second. “The thing is,” he started hesitantly, “Astarion, you don’t have a face.” Astarion stared at him in shock. He didn’t have a face? What in the hells did that mean? Axael resumed, “I think after all these years without a reflexion, even your inner self forgot what your face looks like…”
How did the bard phrased it, earlier? I know what it’s like, to have your identity stripped away from you; so, his identity had been stripped away from him long enough, that even his subconscious had forgotten about it? Absolutely wonderful…
He ran a hand upon his face, feeling the familiar mounts and valleys of his features, but nothing seemed out of place.
“No, it’s not that you don’t have a face,” Axael corrects himself upon seeing his feel the curve of his nose, “It’s more like you can’t place what you look like, like there’s a fog in front of your face, and your face is hidden past it…I’m sorry.”
Astarion rolled his eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, stop apologizing for everything that happened to me!” Axael flinched when he raised his voice, it was getting pretty obvious that they were both pretty on edge. Astarion sighed. “Look, none of usexpected our evening to go like that, and while it’s clear that none of this was ‘fine’, you didn’t force my hand on anything; you said it yourself, old habits die hard. I don’t blame you.”
“Well, I do.”
While he had expected this answer, he hand’t expected the way his chest tightened when the tiefling said it. “Oh shut it,” he let his head drop on Axael’s shoulder, “do try to relax, what’s the point of having a beautiful sunset if you can’t enjoy it?”
Slowly, he felt his companion relax beside him, watching the beautiful colors of the sun before them.
“You know, ever since I got turned, I didn’t think I’d be able to see this again.” Astarion said eventually.
Axael reached behind him, and extended his hand to Astarion, showing a seashell attached to a thin leather cord. “And if you’d like to come back here, you can.” Hesitantly, Astarion took the necklace from his hand. “When you find yourself asleep and in need of a calm place, this pendant will remind you that you can come here anytime you want.”
The vampire slowly put the necklace on. “Isn’t it supposed to be your place, darling?”
“Giving it to you is the least I can do.” He shrugged, “I can make myself another shipwreck, you know? If you really want to see me, just call my name, and I will come to you. If I’m asleep, that is.”
“Well, thank y-”
Astarion woke up to the sound of Shadowheart’s not so gentle voice urging Axael to wake up.
“Come on, Halsin says he needs to talk to you,” the distaste in her voice was almost tangible when she spoke the next few words, “and so does Volo.”
The body laying next to him answered with a groan.
Astarion stayed there, lazily lounging on the bedroll as he distantly heard Shadowheart pleading for the bard to get up faster. He ignored Axael’s protests and decided to bask into the heat of the covers a little longer. After the goblin genocide from the day before, he decided he had deserved it.
He hid his face in the covers when the tent’s flap opened, the rays of the sun assaulting his delicate eyes. It was tough, being a vampire under the sun.
He relaxed here for a good ten minutes, listening to the idle chatting happening outside of the tent. If it was important, he would be updated later. He was sure all of them weren’t up yet, anyway.
However, his relaxing session suddenly got interrupted by Axael’s gut wrenching scream.