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faerievampling · 7 months ago

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Chapter 19: Karma

Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (Reader)

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: 18+. Mention of trauma and symptoms of PTSD, anxiety. Mention of past SA.

Link to Ao3 | Killing Time Masterlist

Last Chapter | Next Chapter

You wave your arms through a silvery expanse; the density of the air can be felt through your fingertips as you cut through the air, desperately trying to grasp onto something. Your gut churns as you flail; and even in this boundless state, your undead body feels heavy and fatigued. But suddenly, you feel the warmth of another take your hand, stopping you nearly dead in your tracks. You grip back, desperate to settle. You are boundless, falling free all but from Lae’zel, who becomes your anchor; with the way she holds your hand, you almost feel safe again.

The fight inside your mind continues: nearly every thought is of Astarion and Angel. Where are they? My beloved? My patron? You try to focus on what occurred just before you were thrown through the portal: but even your mind is fatigued. Your mind becomes open in the Astral, with little barrier to prevent attack; Lae’zel’s garbled voice nears your ears, but her language feels foreign to you. You fight to keep your eyes open, to be present in this strange meta-physical expanse. The only thing you can do is follow Lae’zel – you can hardly think of the implications and risks of trusting a mortal, but your fatigued mind cannot focus on this any longer.

Sssp. Sssp. Wisps of air seem to circle your body, and even more strangely, your mind. There is a tickle at your core that quickly drops to something sinister. You try to call out to Lae’zel, but your telepathy fails you. You have only a moment to consider what is going on before your mind’s eye sets a scene for you: you exist within a box. You can see the walls, the floors, the ceiling; eerily, they have no color. The void inside your gut expands, knowing that you are somewhere you aren’t supposed to be: somewhere between space and time. Somewhere dark and deep within the Astral, yet confined. Your fingers begin to tingle as you feel your chest tighten; oscillating your head, you feel your hair violently whip around your body, nearly distracting you. Because why, why are you naked? Why do you feel your silken locks on your back?

You wrap your arms around your chest before peering out into the void, beyond the confines of your prison. As you blink, the room begins to flesh out: and you recognize it before you can even react. The tacky, red walls; the gothic architecture, tasteless and sinister. And before your eyes, the red Dragonborn appears. Geldon Moth is as terrible as you remember: his height is great, his red scales glimmer brilliantly in the candlelight, and his tail flickers as his eyes settle on you. His eyes are so deep, that you get lost in his horror. Your body is frozen as he approaches, and you can only watch as his tongue escapes his jaws as he tastes the air for your despair.

“Little one,” Moth begins to speak, but his voice is different than you remember, his words coming out with a timbre you don't recognize. “You need not run any longer. Why fight the part of yourself that wants to be consumed, woman? You need to be wholly taken: body and mind. It is only in your fragile nature to want to hurl your body into the mouth of a great beast. Or, do you believe that your new God will provide?”

His words are strange to you, and it sends you into a spiral of the past: your submission. Your tolerance. You shake your head, backing away from him as a painful heat rises between your legs: the evidence and memory of his violation ingrained into your very core. This is all so painful - and you become aware of whatever mental attack is occurring. You try to reach for your body, to fight your way out of this, but you can’t seem to escape the horror. Moth advances to you, closing the gap between you and the edge of your prison. You swing your arm before he can reach you, causing him to flinch for only a moment before his arm juts out at your neck. Bending your knees, you nearly dodge the blow; the top of your head grazes his scales as you duck.

It feels so real – even though a part of you knows it isn’t. The sensation of his scales makes your body shiver, and you feel your fingers twitch as you find a grip on your consciousness. Mustering all your ancient, undead, magical strength, you flutter your eyes open to find a large winged figure looming over you, his pale features apparent even in your weakness. His scent is unfamiliar, his mind unreadable - and the palm of his hand burns your flesh as he grips your jaw, speaking an undetectable language over you as you fall back into your mental prison. The last thing you sense is Lae’zel’s scent, which transcends your consciousness.

You remain naked and in the boudoir of Geldon Moth’s estate: yet the Dragonborn is gone, and you are alone for a time. You pretend to be alive, focusing on your breath and imagining Astarion’s heartbeat, and how it would feel thumping in your chest. You think this may bring you back again – out of this mental stupor. But the only thing you can focus on is your heart: it’s been so long since you felt it’s beat. You place your palm over your chest as you hear the creaking of the door: Lae’zel walks in, dressed in odd garb you’re nearly sure you’ve never seen her in before. She wears a black brassiere with green trousers, paired with sandals and a belt. Her hair is shorter, braided in a way you aren’t familiar with. Her face is pinched, the anger and upset apparent. You anticipate her words before she opens her mouth.

“So, this is it? You choose the blood-sucker over me?” Lae’zel asks, the venom in her voice apparent and targeted. The colors of the room begin to turn brown, and dusty, and you hardly recognize where you are. You feel the sensation of clothing on your skin: leathers, but there is a distinct scent of sweat to them. Lae’zel leans against the doorframe, arms crossed as she peers at you. Her eyes narrow as she speaks her next words: “He is using you. Surely you understand this?”

You find yourself shaking your head, despite knowing this is partially true, as Astarion had already admitted this to you at this point in your adventure. The memories of the past flood your conscious mind, and you remember this moment: the moment you and Lae’zel ended your romantic relationship.

“I’m sorry. It’s just how I feel.” You feel your mouth move as your voice comes out an echo. The wood creaks beneath your feet. ”If only I could be with you both…”

Was this really how it ended?

The pain in Lae’zel’s eyes is apparent as her features soften to something sadder, regrettable; “But you choose him. Why?”

You blink. “I cannot help how I feel. That doesn’t mean I don’t care for you, Lae’zel…”

Lae’zel straights herself, quickly blinking back tears. Her eyes dart around the room before settling once more on you. There is a disappointment on her face, one that doesn’t settle well with you. Your stomach churns. Your skin burns. It burns so harshly you begin to smell your flesh; you fight to flutter your eyes open while your visions continue.

Lae’zel turns, exiting the room as the scene changes. You hardly notice what you’re wearing, anymore: the only thing you recognize is the vast change of setting. You’re in a dark, damp, cavernous dungeon.

“Sebastian?” Astarion’s voice rings out behind you, dread notably filling his throat; you can hear it in his voice as you whip around. “He kept you all this time?”

“Astarion!” You yell, running up to your lover as excitement fills your chest. Once you reach him, you notice how strange he looks – how off he smells. Astarion turns to you, as handsome as ever: and yet, you feel like you hardly recognize him. But you are stuck in this twisted memory, one you cannot recall yourself.

Astarion’s eyes shift between you and the prisoners – vampire spawn, lowly and objectified, much like your husband. You know that the Astarion you see before you is also a spawn – and you are in his Master’s dungeon. In this memory, you were still human and didn’t feel the primal fear and terror a vampire Master has on lower spawn. But your current self can’t help but feel a strange sense of belonging and it makes you remember what Moth had said about you being of Cazador’s brood. Your core fills with corrupt dread and lust.

The conversation with the starving vampire seems to happened for centuries. You promise to help him, despite the despair you feel inside. Astarion is quick to pull you aside. His face is twisted in pain – you know how stressed he is. You reach out to him, nearly recoiling at the stark feeling of his cold flesh. But this vision of Astarion doesn’t (can’t, he can’t because this isn’t him, you tell yourself…) recognize your cold skin.

He is of two minds about the ritual. You find this curious, both in this memory and in your present conscious mind. You cannot focus on this for long, as Astarion’s hands reach out to yours. You feel a spark between you even now – and you fight back tears of remembrance and longing. You miss your husband so badly. Why would he ever send you through that fucking portal?

“You do realize how good you had it, don't you?” Astarion suddenly asks, causing you to draw your brows together. His face is still so pale, yet his precious curls continue to shine. “I provided everything for you! I gave you my heart, my soul – I created you as my bride. To love and cherish for eternity. And you, darling, are the one who ruined our happiness,” Astarion sneers at you, baring his fangs at you aggressively as his face twists even deeper into anger. His pain moves through you. “You ruined it all. You threw away all the precious gifts I gave you. You had so few rules, and yet you broke every. Single. One.”

Astarion brings you towards him, forcing your body slack to his.; his face is entirely threatening, his aura black. He frightens you. You can hardly believe his words. “You’re a very bad spawn. Do you even want to be my favorite?”

A wave of pain and jealousy tear into you, just as when you had seen Sebastian and Astarion’s other lovers. You know it isn't right, this retroactive jealousy, and yet you cannot control feeling these emotions. . “I-of course! Master, please…”

Astarion clicks his tongue at you, mockingly lingering his gaze over your form. You lose strength in your knees, causing Astarion to hold your weight. The way he peers down at you is sinister; grabbing your jaw harshly, he forces your eyes to meet his.

Is this a memory? Or a dream? A vision?

“What shall I do with you, my sweet little spawn?” Astarion asks, bringing his head down closer to yours. You think he may kiss you, and you find yourself staring at his perfect lips, hoping that he will give you a taste. Astarion harshly presses his mouth to yours, his kisses violent as his fangs cut into your lips. You don’t pull away, because you just want him to be happy with you. You want to tell him to just keep holding you.

You need to wake up. You must. You’re desperately reaching back for control.

But when he looks back at you, it isn’t Astarion at all. It is a man: a tall elf with black hair and cruel eyes. He bends over to kiss you as his fingers dig far deeper into your skin, drawing blood. His free hand slithers down your back, tearing at your leather armor with ease. This shouldn’t be able to happen – you are far stronger than Cazador ever was. And yet…

You feel the bareness of your back, a sensation that begins to have you tingling with terror. “You are but a new canvas, girl. The boy explained to you not to scream, correct?”

“What?” You ask as Cazador flits around you, further tearing your clothes. You’re unable to move. And when you feel the sensation of silver being dug into your back, you can’t help but scream: it’s excruciating, yet strangely familiar. Every cell of your body is on fire. Cazador only becomes more angry as your cries crescendo.

Your screams pour from your lips as your eyes go wide. You wildly sit up. You and Lae’zel are alone; the burns on your face have gone, with no evidence to suggest otherwise. Your lids are heavy as you search the area: you are no longer in the Astral, But lying in a field. The landscape looks almost familiar, yet there is a strangeness to it that you can’t quite put your finger on. The trees are too tall, the grass too green, and the sky too…yellow?

“’The fuck are we?” You murmur to yourself as your eyes wash over Lae’zel’s still-sleeping form. You wonder if she had a similar experience while in the sea. Without another thought, you involuntarily reach out to Astarion, unsurprisingly without an answer. You focus on your own body, trying not to think about the delicious, savory blood that is flowing through an unconscious Lae’zel at this very moment. Closing your eyes once more, you lie on your side, bringing your knees to your chest. You only want to feel less hollow.

The moon is so bright you can see it through your lids, as if this realm’s planet is too close to the rock in the sky. Opening your eyes, you are transported back to a happier time: you blink, a smile creeping on your face as you nervously walk through the clearing. Your body shivers as you see him turn around; he’s been waiting for you. When his eyes land on you, a smile creeps in his eyes. His beauty is supernatural. You’d never been so close to a man before you met him, you think as the two of you bridge the gap between you. You find each other effortlessly in the dark: your heart beats wildly as Astarion’s chest presses up against your own. His hand finds its way to your cheek, where he tucks your lips further into his own. His hands grasp your hip, his nails gently digging into your skin.

“I love kissing you.” The words slip from your mouth when you pull away to find your breath. Embarrassment fills you, but you push it away. You can’t take back what you’ve said, and what you said is the honest truth. So, by your principle, you stubbornly decide you won’t take it back: but your mouth still twitches, desperate for Astarion to receive your words well.

Astarion looks surprised, but he doesn’t pull away from your embrace. His touch remains even. “I–” He seems to think about this for just a moment. “I feel…the same.”

You can’t help the smile that comes across your face. Astarion doesn’t smile back; instead, his gaze becomes most intense. You nearly break eye contact, but you don’t want to look away. You don’t want to miss anything. Your entire world can be seen in those eyes, now, then, and forever.

***

Lae’zel is quick to call for reinforcements using a strange relic, one you hadn’t seen before: the object is rectangular, shiny, and has githyanki script along its spines. She casts a spell over it, her eyes never leaving you as she speaks. Once finished, she begins to make a fire.

“They should arrive soon. But with everything going on, I’m uncertain as to when. I’ll prepare us for the night.” As Lae’zel prepares the meager campsite, her eyes hover delicately over you as she works but in a fearful way more so than endearing. You know she is afraid you will eat her. In her eyes, you appear to be nothing short of a ravenous monster. Your hair is stringy, lazing about your shoulders in a feral way. Your eyes are wide, tired, and heavy; and your ruby eyes, dark as ever, remind Lae’zel of stale blood.

“You look hungry,” Lae’zel murmurs across the newborn fire, which she tends with care. She has just finished describing to you the realm you're in, but you hardly have the energy to care. You can’t help but reel on what you saw just hours ago.

“I am.” You feel so weary. “But ‘m not gonna eat you.”

”You’re certain?”

“I am.”

Lae’zel quietly snorts as a grim smile spreads across her face for just a moment. “I’ll be watching regardless. You look ill, Tav. I suppose Angel warned us.” Her words confirm to you that Lae’zel didn’t experience the same mental toll that you had. You’re certain it’s connected to your psychic abilities. “Still, you really do look ill.”

You dart your eyes away, doing your best not to look at her firm, warm neck. “He sent me through.”

“He did,” Lae’zel speaks confirmation.

“My husband.” You speak in disbelief, nearly outside of yourself. Although your body's here, your soul is disconnected from you and your bloodline. You can’t fend off that emptiness inside you right now; with a swallow, you make the quick decision to try to accept it. When Astarion is absent, there are no quick remedies for you.

“Why?” You ask, your voice exasperated. Tears build at the corner of your eyes, and with your next blink, they roll down your cold cheeks. One. Two. Three; and that's all you're allowed.

“Your patron.” Lae’zel’s response is what you already know. “Astarion did what he thought was best to protect you. You know this, Tav.”

“But what about him? How could he…”

“Tav,” Lae’zel says, stopping you from continuing. She thinks you are a broken record. You violently blink at her before letting out a strangled sigh. “Where are we? What happened after we went through the portal?”

“Were you not listening? We were caught in…” Lae’zel trails off for a moment, trying to find her words. “We must have been caught in…something. An astral storm of a kind. I wasn’t able to navigate and had to get us out. So, here we are,” she explains as she gestures around, imploring you to swivel your head.

You ask Lae’zel if she remembers anything dreamlike happening. You describe the figure you saw: that Aasimar, the visions he showed you. Your hands involuntarily shake as you speak. His sheer power isn’t lost on you, despite all your heroics and unique strength.

“I don’t recall. My memory is of us navigating the planes, and then we were here. He was hurting you, Tav…” Lae’zel shakes her head, pushing away lovely thoughts of you. “How do you even remember?”

“He was grabbing my face, twisting my memories – and it burned. I kept waking up.”

“You’re sure it wasn’t some sort of vision? The Astral –”

“I’m sure,” You say as you think about how you are most certainly sure…is it possible for the aasimar to have been some strange vision?

Lae’zel slowly nods. “He was trying to find something in that massive skull of yours.” You can’t help but chuckle at Lae’zel’s words. The hint of her smile disappears after a moment, and the two of you look at each other for some time.

“This place is strange.” You say as you fiddle with your shoes; Lae’zel doesn’t have a response for you other than a glance. You idle: a vampire needn’t move, sleep, blink, or eat. And as an old vampire, you don’t need much to sustain yourself. Hells, you could probably go many years without feeding. Alas, floating through precious and sensitive memories has been enough for you on this day, and you don’t particularly want to focus on anything. You become a statue, despite Lae’zel’s discomfort.

It isn’t long before a red dragon bursts through the veil of this realm, causing you and Lae’zel to jump to your feet.

****

Astarion’s chest rumbles as you approach. He can nearly feel it despite the sensation of your nearness ultimately being your sweet scent. But Astarion allows himself to feel this stirring in his chest: the last several days have been a numbing blur, and he made efforts to keep you distant in his mind.

Too much pain and suffering. Hadn’t I gotten away from all of that? Astarion glances over at the enchanted aasimar. When he looks at Angel for too long, he concludes that he should kill the bastard. But something tells him that would harm his wife. Now isn’t the time. She’s here now…

Despite his wishes to keep you away from Angel, Astarion won’t hide himself away from you. Angel is secure in the fortress, for now.

A feeling rises in Astarion’s chest – what is it, again? Sadness, anger, grief? Feelings he’s avoided for hundreds of years until recently; feelings Astarion is still unsure how to handle.

Guilt.

Leaving the prison chambers, Astarion walks along a spiral staircase to the upper part of the castle as he curses the githyanki and their architecture. The castle, despite existing in a fairly secluded and beautiful pocket of the Astral plane, was rather ugly to Astarion. Functionally, the castle is a war fortress equipped to handle dragons: and the castle’s appearance could hide none of this. It was nearly ruinous.

But this doesn’t matter to Astarion, not really. Not with your imminent arrival. After Vlaakith’s warriors invaded Faerun, the remaining githyanki at the castle followed their escape protocol, taking both Astarion and Angel with them. They ended up in a pocket of the Astral – somewhere just as terrible as that old crèche.

Astarion hurries to the courtyard, robes fluttering behind him as your scent encapsulates him. His eyes are wide as a red dragon bursts through the last firmament of protection: yet you are nowhere to be found. A pit quickly forms in Astarion’s grumbling stomach. His fingers mindlessly twist at his rings as his heels slap the pavement. Angel.

“I can’t believe you fell for that, ha,” Angel speaks directly, with little emotion in his voice. “You’re losing it, Star…”

Astarion’s lips press together. Angel has existed in shackles since they arrived several days ago – at least, it felt like several days to Astarion, who did nothing but sit next to Angel’s cell.

Angel’s face is twisted. “I hate you.”

Astarion can’t help but laugh. “Oh, darling. I hate me too.”

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #killing time #ascended astarion #astarion x female reader #astarion fanfiction

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faerievampling · 8 months ago

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I’m so sorry i lied yall, the chapter will come out when it’s ready, I apologize 😭

Killing Time

Chapter 18: A Fresh Start

word count: 5.6k

pairing: Ascended Astarion x Vampire Tav (Female Reader)

Warnings: 18+. Mention of past SA. Mentions of sex. Graphic Violence.

Link to Ao3 | Killing Time M.List

Last Chapter | Next Chapter

The spawn army is exactly what you expected: nearly a hundred spawn, so many ruby eyes glowing far more than they should. They seem to recognize you, having seen your portrait throughout the palace, eyeing you curiously as you ease your way into the dungeons. You haven’t seen Astarion since your fight early this morning, despite all the wandering you’ve done.

“You’re not supposed to be here, my Lady,” One of the spawn calls to you.

“What’re you gonna do about it?” You ask, cocking your head as you leer at the spawn.

“Nothing, mistress, but we’ve informed the Master.”

“Whatever. I only came down here to see his project,” You explain, crossing your arms. You wore a fitted cotton shirt, leather padding with elegant, gold stitching gracing your shoulders and elbows. Your trousers are comfortable cotton and leather – you had wanted something casual but protective, thinking that you’re hoping to spar with a few of the githyanki, maybe the spawn if they agreed to it…

And who were they to deny you?

Smack. Smack. Thunk!

Ygritte dodges your attack just before smashing your wooden gaive into her side – but your strength overcomes, snapping your weapon in half.

“C’mon Tav!” Zi’rro cheers, yelling off to the side with the little crowd you’ve gathered. “Be measured in your strength! You look amazing, by the way!”

You twirl around, sensing Alphoso is just at your back. You swing your arm, the back of your hand connecting to the flesh of his cheek, catching the spawn off-guard. His body flies behind him, but he catches himself before he falls – still, he stumbles.

“Grab his sword!” Chae commands, her voice rising over all others: you know she’s right. You know you should – but your instincts get the better of you as your hands ball to fists as you swing at Ygritte, who can’t move fast enough as your knuckles meet her jaw. She cries out in pain before hitting you in the shoulder with her sword, her arm swinging in such a way that you can’t block: your arms are too busy punching this stupid spawn in the face and protecting your beauty (not that you won’t heal; you simply feel vain).

The force of Ygritte’s swing takes the breath out of you, and you’re heaving on the ground when she swings at you again, more forcefully this time. Bashing the Master’s bride is certainly something she’s wanted to do for a very long time: the moment you invited the three to dance, Alphoso and Ygritte’s eyes lit up. Only Ruth had been reluctant; he seemed to only want to kiss your feet instead, profusely apologizing until you told him to shut his mouth. His shame is apparent, and his apologies are endless.

“Get up, Tav!” Marg’o yelps; out of the corner of your eye, you see her clinging onto Chae’s shoulder for dear life, as if she’s the one on the ground right now.

You ignore the tightness in your chest as you rebound off the floor, your strength allowing you to jump significantly higher than any woman should, creating distance between the two spawns. Just before you charge at them, you see them look over your shoulder, the crowd’s attention wavering to whoever has walked into the room. You know it’s Astarion: your ears are tuned to listen for the beat of his heart. He has given the spawn a silent command when they both turn back to you, looking even more sinister and ready to fight than before.

It excites you. You want to watch them bleed!

You’re thinking you’re lucky you aren’t in any danger and that your foresight isn’t bothering you just as something slams into you from behind, shoving you onto the ground. You put your hands out in just enough time to keep your face from crashing to the floor; quickly roll onto your back, rebounding off the floor as you move to tackle your aggressor. It’s Ruth, who's now joined the fray. The reluctance in his eyes remains for only a second before his determination rises and he decides to truly fight.

You feel time is slow, for a bit. It’s just your perception, nothing magical happening here, but sometimes, eternity moves so slowly, even in these moments. The hoots and hollers around you inspire you, and you feel their true belief and goodwill feelings towards you. Ziir’o, Chae, Josh, Marg’o, Quinel, Lae’zel, and the others: their auras are blooming with excitement, anticipation, and hope. Your githyanki friends believe that you and Astarion can help them fight Vlaakith. They trust you…

And your back, specifically the hot, passionate aura that seems to explore you, reaching for you…coming from Astarion: you know this because it’s so unmistakable. Albeit you can’t read his thoughts (his Ascendant mind is far too powerful, too protected from invasion) you know Astarion is so happy to see you, even like this. His love is passionate, and it’s so warm: but you dare not get distracted now, except…

Out of the corner of your eye, you see a white cat. It’s fluffy and beautiful, and it slowly blinks at you. The sight is shocking, bringing you back to your first conscious moments at Geldon Moth’s estate; except, the cat looks different, now. You had remembered the cat being collared, with dull green eyes – collared no more, the cat excludes freedom as its red and gold eyes stare back at you. Angel.

Your distraction leaves the three spawns descending on you, flanking you easily: you’re entirely vulnerable. You hear someone in the crowd remarking about the strange appearance of the animal, distracting you further. You don’t have time to look back at the cat before Ruth brings you to the ground. You hiss, growling as you begin to fight and claw, punch, and burn: celestial light is pouring from your every touch, making you feel hot. This would probably be cheating if you were ever forced to play by the rules but it isn’t like you can control it; if anything, your lack of control is beginning to frighten you.

“Bitch!” Ygritte yells as you’ve burned her face. She backs away, clutching at her cheeks as you swing at her legs.

“Watch it,” Astarion growls from an unseen corner behind you, Ygritte’s eyes flitting to him for just a second.

“Ha!” You laugh directly at her as she falls to the floor, you having kicked the ground from beneath her; you don’t hesitate when you impale her through the shoulder with her wooden blade, which she abandoned in her efforts to soothe her pain. The githyanki cheer even louder when you do this: and truthfully, it feels good to have so many cheering you on.

You feel powerful! Fuck yes! You’ve almost forgotten who you are, haven’t you? The second most powerful vampire in the world. Maybe even the most powerful!

You’re invigorated and you’ve a smile on your face. Unable to stop yourself, you whip your head around. Your hair is still tightly secure, thanks to Bethild’s thorough work. After hearing about your mishap in Baldur’s Gate, she corrected her technique: you feel confident and beautiful. As you briefly survey the cheering crowd, your eyes rest on Astarion’s gaze for just a moment – that’s all you have before your attention is brought back to the spawn in front of you.

You decide to go all in as you leap between the men, grabbing their necks as you smash them into the training floor: it’s padded, but you break through its lining, crushing the men into the stone below. You let go of Alphoso, who quickly submits to you. But Ruth…

You haven’t thought of Ruth in a while. He is, quite frankly, pretty low on your list of priorities. But you find yourself digging your fingertips into his skin until you’ve torn through his throat; you’re able to feel the insides of his body cavity, as the pressure of your nails only digs deeper. You can’t let go. The room seems to slowly devolve into silence, the crowd begrudgingly shuffling out of the training quarters. This isn’t a public, friendly brawl, anymore.

“This is revenge,” You whisper to him before pulling your hand away from his mangled form. Ruth recently fed, you can tell, because his body is filled with plasma-filled, warm blood, which soaks your hand – along with shreds of sinew and torn flesh. You and Ruth are looking at each other: he looks so pathetic to you that you ignore his sorrow-filled gaze, his attempts at making his mouth give you some sort of apology. Ruth was supposed to be watching you that night you were taken: he wasn’t supposed to leave your side. He was supposed to protect you. But Geldon Moth swallowed you up while Ruth was macking on his human girlfriend.

You almost laugh at the thought – and unable to hold whatever madness back that has now befallen you, you can’t help yourself as you devolve into a giggling mess. You keep laughing until the room clears, until your stomach hurts, until there are tears in your eyes.

“Such a cute, evil little laugh~” Angel remarks at some point, having transformed back into his usual form, but it doesn’t sway you. You and Ruth are locked in – it’s almost romantic: the look on his eyes, the way his hair is fanned out as blood pools beneath him, making him look almost canvas-like, and the way he gasps beneath you…

“Ha…Ahaha…” You let out your last few giggles. You stare at him beneath you a little longer. The room is quiet, the only ones still left are your husband, Lae’zel, and Angel. You should just kill Ruth and be done with it, but you have a distinct feeling it won’t make anything better. You needn’t look deep to understand you just want to cause pain as you envision further tearing Ruth to shreds, ripping out his heart, and giving it to Cynthia as his body burns on a pyre.

“You’ve defeated your opponent – get up, Tav,” Lae’zel coaxes. Her words are structured like a demand, but her voice reveals her words as a suggestion: nobody is actually about to stop you. You have all the power, right here, right now, to end Ruth’s life.

“He hasn’t felt enough pain,” You find yourself saying. Ruth’s aura is frantic, more terrified than excruciating: that’s how you know he hasn’t had enough.

“The only reason he isn’t dead is because he’s a vampire, Tav!” Lae’zel yells, louder than you both expect. This is undeniably true – no mortal could ever survive these wounds. “Look at him – he is done for. You’ve won.”

“So? So fucking what?” You answer, desperately trying to even your voice. “It’s not about winning.”

“So you’re a torturer now? Is that who you are?” Lae’zel sneers – she means to continue, but you interrupt.

You guffaw before letting out a strangled chuckle. “Bah! A torturer?”

“Tav,” Astarion calls to you, and it stops you in your tracks. You feel a stillness come over you at the sound of his smooth, velvet voice. You hear the soft steps of his shoes as he approaches you; his heat, his heartbeat, his scent, that pink, lovely aura…they all begin to fawn over you. Astarion undeniably makes your heart swell to proportions uncomfortable to you, right now. It’s overwhelming, and you’re clenching your jaw so hard your temples begin to hurt.

Things between you are so tense, you could cut through the air with a knife. “I understand–”

“You understand!?” You ask incredulously, your voice cracking as you hold back your sob.

Astarion lets out a cruel chuckle, a darkening presence emitting from him. “You don’t think I understand what it’s like to be tortured? To be used? To be broken?” Astarion pauses for a moment, leaving only Ruth’s gurgles of torment to fill the room. Astarion hasn’t mentioned this explicitly to you in many, many years, and you are taken aback. “I wasted away in the boudoir for nearly two hundred years! I’ve had thousands violate my body, spent countless hours being tortured, starved, and buried alive. And you don’t think I understand you?”

You don’t know, anymore. You really don’t.

Astarion crouches next to you, grabbing your forearms in his hands, pulling them away from Ruth, desperately vying for your attention. He softens his expression. “I understand you fully, Tav. I see you.”

“Y-you see me!?” You yell back, attempting to pull yourself back from his grasp. “How? How can you see me when I can't see myself? The only thing I know is that I’m n-not safe anymore! I’m not safe with you or Lae’zel, or Angel, or out in the world, or even in my own fucking house!”

It’s up to you: only you can save yourself. You are your own Master, now. Angel’s face twists at your thoughts, displeasure apparent on his face. You think he’s about to speak, but he holds his tongue.

“That isn’t true – I would do anything to protect you! Do you really believe you’re not safe with me? With your husband? Your Master?” Astarion emphasizes this last part, making you wince.

“You’ve hurt me before! You let me be taken!”

“I didn’t let you be taken! You speak absurdities now!” Astarion argues desperately. “I hurt you in the past – I admit, I did things that weren’t right for me to do, love, but I believed they were right for us at the time. I only ever wanted us to stay together. To be together.”

“But you’d deliberately cause fear,” You gasp, “Heartache. Those things are painful.”

“Because I didn’t want to be a slave to you! You carry my heart in your hands, Tav, and you hardly realize it. You’re careless,” Astarion says, his face twisting in pain as if every word hurts to speak. “You don’t understand what you do to me. I’m–”

Astarion pauses, his eyes darting off to the side before meeting yours once more. “What I feel for you – I once believed it was shameful. I walk around with my greatest weakness for all to see. Gods, Tav…”

“Ashamed of your love for me?” You ask, despite already knowing the answer.

“Love, obsession, devotion,” Angel says in a low voice, causing you and Astarion both to look at him; his eyes are hooded, a shadow passing over his eyes as his gaze boars into you. “With you. Your body, your mind, especially your cunt–”

The room explodes in protest. Astarion demands Angel’s silence while you’re asking your patron what the fuck is wrong with him and why he’s like this. But he only glowers at you, his dark mood unwavering. It unnerves you.

“This is no business of ours. We shall take our leave,” Lae’zel interrupts, among you and Astarion’s protests.

“Tav is also mine. Her business is my own.” Angel speaks seriously, likely for one of the first times in front of anyone but you.

“I don’t want to be yours! I don’t want it to be your business! You’ve ruined everything, you know!” Your voice is harsh, ringing out loudly through the training room, your shrill tone and panicked expression apparent to everyone, even you. “You should have just left me there, to waste away–”

Astarion grabs you again, this time his grasp more forceful, surging your body to his. “Don’t say such things!”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do! I–“ You trail off because you really need space. There is a strange look that passes over Astarion; something soft, a realization of some sort. His hold on you loosens, and you pull yourself away from him. He looks dejected as you continue to stumble back, tripping over Ruth’s body. Astarion nearly moves to catch you but stops himself. You land with a thump, straight on your bottom –

The air is so heavy, you can’t breathe. Thank gods you don’t need to. Astarion’s face has turned to stone, twisted from a pained expression to something more muted. You can see the wounds of his heart all over him. His aura looks like it’s bleeding, and it makes you want to fix him in whatever way you can; to fix this.

“What am I supposed to do?” You ask yourself rather than anyone else, peering deeply into Ruth’s eyes. You want to disappear from this situation.

His eyes are glassy, and when you look closely, you find yourself getting lost…and a moment later, you see a vision in his eyes: the expanse of the sea. The Astral Sea. Timeless, floating, beautiful. A glimmer of dragon scales is almost undetectable amongst the stars. The scene changes: the moonlight shines brightly on the palace Astarion built for you – but only for a moment. When the dragons crash through the sky, the entire dome of your world lights up, as if the hells itself has ascended on you. Rubble. Blood. The scent of burning flesh.

The sun is setting already, you can feel it. The sun is setting, your hands are still covered in warm blood. You turn back, Lae’zel and Astarion having already noticed Angel, who frantically grabs you before Astarion can understand what’s happened. Angel saw your vision, too, and the fear in his eyes frightens you even further. You can’t move, you’ve frozen in place. You’re imagining Ruth’s pyre spreading across your lands, your body, your sin, only for the fire to be kindled by a red dragon, which inadvertently turns into your worst nightmare: a red Dragonborn. Moth.

Angel and Astarion harshly exchange words before you’re thrust into Astarion’s arms. Something is very, very wrong, and Angel is upset. You mutter something to Astarion about dragons, your palace, and your things; your lover hushes you, telling you not to worry, but Angel interrupts him.

“Tell her he’s dead! He can’t hurt her, but a real dragon can, so she needs to get it together!” Angel’s concern is apparent in his tone, his deep voice loud in your ears.

“I heard you!” You yell, relieved to be finally back to yourself once more. Although you aren’t frozen anymore, you can’t help but cling to Astarion for dear life, and he’s clinging to you in equal measure as your party runs through your palace. Angel leads, his presence in your home quite daunting; you think how strange it is that this odd, powerful being has become a constant in your life. Lae’zel flanks, and Astarion maneuvers you over his shoulder, his hands firmly gripping your hips and thighs. Part of you wants to demand your feet on the ground, but the destructive visions in your head have you wanting to be close. Something is telling you to hold onto him, and so you do.

“They couldn’t have found us here,” Lae’zel speaks a little too coolly like she’s desperately trying to keep her head. One peek into her mind reveals how truly devastated she is.

“And yet they did,” Astarion growls under his breath, his hands squeezing you as if to make sure you’re still there. His aura is centered pink, as always, but the red that emits from his body is unmistakable. He’s furious.

“You don’t understand, it’s impossible! we have the technology! Orpheus –“ Lae’zel’s voice quickly becomes shrill.

“Orpheus was wrong!” Angel whips his head around, his expression more twisted than you ever imagined. Angel’s face is red with anger, his ruby eye blazing hot, his fingers trembling. He’s never been so disjointed before. “There’s nowhere on this plane Vlaakith’s army won’t be able to find us.”

The three of you reach the portal room just as the sun sets – and just as every portal vanishes before your eyes; you’ve never seen anything like it before as they all whir just before they die, becoming nothing more than a piece of furniture. Lae’zel’s furious, Angel is trying not to angrily throw his body around; Astarion sets you down, cupping your face in his hands – you both understand you don’t have much time for everything you need to say to each other. Your earlier anger seems to dissipate as you look into his eyes.

I love you. I love you. I love you, Astarion.

Angel is telling you he needs to teach you a spell. Lae’zel is ragefully hitting and knocking at the portals, not understanding how Vlaakith could do such a thing, all while you and Astarion take a moment to look into each other's eyes. Something about this moment is pure. His skin, his hair, his eyes – they brighten, only ever for you. You have to fix this. Fuck.

“I’m so sorry…” You begin before faltering, because you don’t know what else to say.

“Don’t – it’s alright,” Astarion says gently, brushing your cheekbone with his thumb. “I’m sorry. I’ve been entirely selfish, and you deserve so much more than that, my love…”

Astarion is interrupted by an ungodly bang, something that seems to shake the realm itself. He’s got you cradled to his chest now, his posture entirely defensive. This moment hardly feels real – your mind flits to Bethild, and you silently hope she will survive. Maybe if you’re quick –

“We don’t have time for that, or this!” Angel yells, motioning to you and Astarion, urging you away from him. “She needs to learn the spell!”

“I should’ve been better for you,” Astarion’s voice is low in your ear, coming to a whisper as you know he desires privacy, even as the screams in the palace start to get louder. “A better mast–mentor, a better husband. A better friend. Even a better lover. I am so sorry, my love.”

You want to tell him that you know it isn’t his fault, but your feelings beg to differ. Sometimes, reality and emotion don’t match up: it irritates you.

“I don’t hate you,” You whisper back, wishing you could look into his eyes, but you both feel better being embraced.

“I’ll take what I can get,” Astarion lightly teases; you can hear the hint of a smile on his face. He kisses the top of your head before grabbing your shoulders, holding you squarely to him. He’s looking at your lips – you know he wants to kiss you, but he hesitates. He’s about to speak again, but you decide to take charge. The moment you move in for the kiss, Astarion does too, the both of you in perfect sync with each other. You bring each other into a chaste kiss, his pretty lips settling tenderly on yours; he’s gentle with you, one hand on your cheek, the other respectfully touching your waist. You’re surprised he isn’t pulling your body into his. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip in a smooth motion, as if it's something he can’t control: tasting you. Tingles ripple through your body under his touch. You want to touch and kiss him more: his aura becomes yours, making this kiss feel different than any you’ve had before. When he pulls away from you, you can’t help but start to cry – little tears, spilling down your lashes and trailing down your cheeks.

“They’re going to destroy our home,” You whisper. “Everything you’ve built us…”

He gingerly wipes your tears away.

“Well,” Astarion whispers back, a playful look in his eye, despite his own tears. “As bad of a line this is, my only home is you, Tav. As long as we’re together.”

Astarion pulls you to him now, no longer able to control his desire for nearness; his forehead rests on yours. You know there’s much more he wants to say, but the Astral Sea calls, lest death finally catch you. You try to suck in your tears as you speak. “I g-guess we could use a fresh start…yeah?”

“I suppose we do,” Astarion wearily whispers, pulling away from you, looking uncertain. Neither of you understands what ‘a fresh start’ means: only that what the two of you carry of your old life is remnants of your love, still strong and passionate, but broken – displaced. This is exasperated by knowing what’s to come; rather, than not knowing exactly what’s to come. Your visions offered answers, certainly, but always seem to pose more questions in equal.

You blink at him, his weepy smile becoming infectious to you. The two of you are lost in this little moment, exchanging little confessions of love with just your gaze. Only the sound of a dragon's roar can snap you out of your love trance.

Lae’zel’s turned away from you. You think she’s also crying. “There’s no time to waste,” Lae’zel says, her voice rough. You know this is tearing her apart. When she looks back at you, it shakes you. Lae’zel’s brow is furrowed, her eyes filled with tears of fury, slanted with determination.

“Your involvement with the Ancuníns is hardly why Vlaakith and her legion attacked the material plane, Lae’zel,” Angel quickly explains, turning away from the topic once he’s said his peace. “She wouldn’t just attack the material plane on a mere whim– no. She’s been planning this for some time.”

“Tav,” Angel’s voice is stern now. “Babe, come here. Consider it part of our contract.” His voice booms, louder than you’d imagine, and you know he means business.

“Go on,” Astarion says with great reluctance, squeezing your hand. “We’ll figure everything out once we’re safe.”

“We must go to Orpheus,” Lae’zel says. “We won’t be able to hide anywhere on this plane – wherever we go, they will follow.”

“Tav,” Angel extends his hand towards you, and you feel almost a pull, right from your head. From your left eye. Like a string, tugging you along.

“Wait!” You yell: this is all definitely happening way too fast – Angel wraps his arm around you. You feel scared for a moment, but you’re met with a surprising warmth…if anything, Angel is feverish to the touch. His large wings drape around you, and you’re thankful there is enough room just so he can shield the two of you.

“I’d take us to my domain for a bit if I could,” Angel says, his voice low, softer than before. “I can’t leave this plane, girl. Well, I can, but I can’t summon a portal of any kind. Part of my punishment, or whatever. But I can give you the spell.”

Angel’s large hand comes to cup your jaw, his fingertips resting on the back of your head, pulling you into him. “I promise I don’t think you’re stupid, okay? You’re just not a great warlock or wizard, and this is the easiest way to make you know.”

“What!?”

“Don’t freak out – I’m gonna give you part of my divine essence. Just a quick kiss and you’ll know the spell for a bit,” Angel explains, grabbing your hand and putting it over his heart. “You’re gonna feel like shit afterward, like, after you cast it. But I’ll take care of you.”

You feel the thump of Angel’s heart beneath his broad chest. It’s racing. His heartbeat. His warmth. You want to be closer to him, and you’re tired of fighting. This is becoming too much for you.

“You’re not really scared…are you?” Angel softly asks, running his thumb over your cheek. “Of me?”

Angel is soft, right now. His pupils blown, he gazes at your face, cradling your head and cheek with his large palm. His thumb seems to explore your face, just a little, idly smoothing out your brow and touching your lips. “I wouldn’t ever hurt you, beautiful…”

“But you want to possess me all the same, don’t you?” You ask darkly. What isn’t safe is your freedom, not necessarily your body. Astarion definitely wouldn’t hurt you, nor Lae’zel and Angel had been gentle with you so far, for the most part…you don’t have time for this! “Just fucking kiss me already!”

“I wanted it to be nicer than this, y’know,” Angel’s eyes sparkle down at you for just a moment before he presses his lips to yours. He’s firm, his lips soft and warm; parting your lips with his thumb, you feel the soft sensation of his tongue easing in to taste you. His tongue, so long you fear it could choke you, passionately explores your mouth. Angel can’t help but hum in pleasure, his needy hands grabbing you tighter, needing so much more from you. Strange runes fill your head, and you feel yourself sipping his power…

The tip of his tongue runs along one of your fangs, pressing into the tooth just enough to draw blood. It’s an explosion in your mouth: He tastes sweet, like liquid sunlight and gold in your mouth…his taste is rich, smooth, hot, so fucking hot you feel your cunt pulsate with desire. For a moment, every inch of your body craves to be closer to him. You can’t help yourself when you bite into his lip, bringing yourself closer to his body, drinking more of him in.

It’s unlike anything…it’s divine. You almost miss the flavor of deception: there is something wrong with you taking his blood. But what?

Suddenly, you’re freed from Angel’s grasp – the spell between you breaks, and you realize your face is covered in his blood. You don’t have long to feel ashamed; Astarion effortlessly tosses you to the side, tackling Angel to the ground in one fell swoop. His motions are elegant, and measured, catching Angel off guard – your patron is still drunk off you, reflexes slow, a shocked expression coming over him.

Landing with a thump, Lae’zel quickly helps you up, drawing you further away from the men.

Astarion remains dominant, and you realize Angel can’t use his typical methods to flee – now it is simply the will of bodily strength. Astarion pins Angel to the ground, the large Aasimar’s body being brought down to the floor with a crack.

“You only have – ow! Shit! – thirty more seconds!” Angel calls out to you, his cry pained, and it pains you too. “Do the thing, Tav, I command it!”

Your next motions are almost involuntary, and you begin to understand why there is no refusal clause in your contract: you don’t think you can refuse, not now, anyway. Whatever Angel is, is far more than what you understand. Your body begins to move, and you know you’re preparing the spell. A diamond, worth far less than any diamond Astarion would buy you.

“I need a diamond!” You yell, wondering why the one time you actually need a diamond, you don’t have one in close vicinity. Once again, Angel fails to mention important information – you curse.

Astarion whips his head around, the urgency apparent on his face. “Across the hall! Hurry!”

As you bound across the hall, using your supernatural speed to rummage through Astarion’s office until you found a ridiculous diamond-studded brooch, you desperately miss your connection to Astarion. All of this would be so much easier – because what in the hells is he planning?

As soon as you reach the portal room once more, Lae’zel is screaming at you as an orchestra of chaos continues around you.

“Open the portal!” Lae’zel yells. Ancient runes dance around your skull – the energy in the room is entirely chaotic, your world spinning and jolting as you bring your palms together, clasping together your digits except your index fingers and thumbs. You speak something in an unintelligible language; the words flow out of you naturally, as if you’ve always known them. The whir of the portal materializes in front of you. You don’t marvel at its majesty, despite its utter beauty and powerful presence.

“‘Star! Angel!” You cry, but Lae’zel grabs you: you feel weak, extremely weak, all of a sudden…your muscles are jelly, and even your jaw feels slack as you fight against her grasp. “Please!”

“Go! Go, my love – we’ll find each other!” Astarion yells amidst his struggles with Angel, who aggressively fights back.

“Astarion! No, please, please don’t leave me!” You start to panic, now, the thought of being away from both Astarion and Angel. If you’re separated from them in the Astral Sea, would they ever be able to reach you? Does Astarion or Angel know where to go? What does Astarion mean to do to him?

“Come on!” Lae’zel’s pulling you, but you’re turned around, wrenching yourself away from your ex-lover. You can’t leave Astarion. You can’t. You think you may actually die if you’re separated from your husband again. And Angel – you can’t leave Angel.

You run towards them: gorgeous silver curls amidst long, flowing black hair, one large, tanned body desperately trying to overpower a smaller pale one. Sweat drips down Astarion’s face as he continues to dominate – you’ve almost reached them when you feel Lae’zel’s strong arms wrap around you, pulling you backward.

“No! Lae, let me go, please! ‘Star! Angel!” You scream, scratching and clawing at Lae’zel as the two of you fall back into an abyss. You are immediately disoriented as time falls away from you entirely. For a moment, you truly don’t know who you are, who you’re with, or what you’re doing: a fear rises in you, so vast and solid, that you try to scream, but nothing comes out. All you can see is a silvery expanse of void, floating debris, and strange lights.

You close your eyes, keeping the person you’re with close. ‘Help me,’ you call to them because you cannot speak. You’re suddenly pulled from your fear, existing in some suspended state before a great calm washes over you. You can hardly feel your body as your mind begins to relax.

‘Stay with me,’ The voice says. But it could be anyone. Your mind reaches, reaches for your ex-lover, your friend: someone you trust. Someone you care for to some degree, despite your odd way of showing it. You’ve remembered you’re with Lae’zel, that she forcefully brought you through a portal, separating you from your husband and your patron – you feel anger before understanding.

The Astral Sea. Finally.

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faerievampling · 9 months ago

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chapter 19 coming in a few days :)