Raphael x Evie (f!OC) | Rating: E/varied | Chapter 1 on AO3
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Chapter 8: Echoes & Whispers
Haarlep takes advantage of Evie’s heightened hearing to tell her of all the things they’d like to do while she and Raphael are busy.
Chapter Rating: M/E / NSFW
Word Count: ~1.6k
Tags: POV Evie, M-Solo; Sexual fantasies; Bathing fantasy
Warnings: Haarlep; Unsolicited lewdness
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“Welcome back, little fox!” Not five minutes here and the incubus was already back to trying to get under her skin. She wasn’t sure how - had Raphael told them? - but they had found out that her ears were extra sensitive and could hear them wherever they were skulking about in the House of Hope.
“Why not come play with me,” they bid in that deceptively dulcet lilt, “once you’re done with all that boring stuff I’m sure you talk about with the master?”
If she hadn’t been a product of the modern era of sex and such things as the internet and all that came with it - porn galore, unsolicited lewdness and pictures in every inbox as a woman merely existing online, rule 34, et cetera, et cetera - maybe their words would have fazed her. As it was, they usually weren’t too difficult to ignore, though they had been escalating in drama and explicitness... She refused to give them the satisfaction of getting a response out of her.
“I could pamper you in the bath first. Evie…would you like that? Light candles while we soak and relax in the hot waters. I would scrub every bit of that soft skin until my touch makes you tingly and breathy. Run my claws over your scalp as I lather and rinse your beautiful red hair. I bet they’d feel divine on those fluffy ears. Oh, and I of course cannot forget about your tail! I wonder how sensitive it is? Do you moan when it’s grasped and pulled, little fox?”
“I would massage all those muscles, so tight and sore from your travels.”
“Perhaps I would steal a kiss or two from those lips and give your nipples a pinch just to hear you gasp.”
“And then I would pluck you up and seat you on the pool’s edge. You would lie back into plush pillows and I would attend to your most sacred of places!”
Oh, what she would give for a proper hot bath… One of the things that she did fantasize about. What was most aggravating was that the incubus was likely saying all this from that amaaazing looking pool she’d seen in Raphael’s ‘boudoir.’
‘Boudoir’: an archaic term she’d giggled at when Raphael first used it. He had a poetic way of speaking at times though he clearly kept up with linguistic changes to be however many millennia old and still sound similarly to the others that she had so far met. But words like this reminded her that he was not that forty-something appearance of the man before her. Astarion frequently did the same, and Gale, sometimes to a lesser extent. Surprisingly, it was infrequent from Halsin, who she knew to be the oldest of their group - maybe the language of the wilds changed less than that of the cities?
She wasn’t playing this right with Raphael. She could be asking for things in exchange for the information he was trying to dig out. Getting caught in his game, though, wasn’t something she wanted.
“Do you leave your curls? Or do you trim them down? Perhaps you’re bare completely? I would wager that to be difficult to maintain for one travelling so long in the wilds. I could clean them up, should you like? If you’ve never been shorn bare, you’ll be in for a treat!”
But it was so tiring to dance around saying what he wanted to know all the time. In most of it, she didn’t see much harm, but he was sneaky, and with her tendency to ramble once she got started, her mouth would go before her brain had a chance to pull the break.
While their first meetings had felt more like they were butting heads and clashing horns at times, the devil had pivoted and changed his strategy since. It was a constant battle now to remind herself that he wanted her to associate him with comforts and luxury. There was always food and drink offered. Plush, velvet seating. The House was near always quiet at the hour they met - except for someone. He’d even offered to loan her a book after they had shared some of their favorites - she’d declined for now for fear of it getting damaged or ruined while travelling. She thought he’d enjoy Alice in Wonderland. It was kind of sad that she’d never be able to loan him or anyone a favorite book from her world.
“-to taste you! You come here smelling all sweet and it’s not fair that I’ve been denied! Would you be so sweet on my tongue?”
His obvious logic was that if she liked him she would be increasingly likely to sign over her soul to him - if not now, then at some point in the future. But what if she did start turning into an illithid? If it came to that, would she really be able to kill herself or allow another to kill her? It was easy to say she would, but she could just as easily panic and summon him. Because comfort was what you turned to when faced with your own mortality. As it stood, she still thought chance was on her side.
And now- They were discussing tea. She loved tea! Now Raphael knew her favorite tea. Black with lots of spices and a dab of honey and cream and sugar… Most of that she had actually been able to come by, but certain spices and dairy were a luxury out there. She would bet a hefty sum of gold that he would start offering tea alongside, or instead of, wine for these meetings.
“-eave little love bites all up your thighs. And then I’d hold them apart as my tongue laves at your lips. I’m afraid I might be too eager to savor this! I’d delve into your cunt for that first bit, then lick and suckle at your clit until you’re writhing beneath me and begging for more. My tail would thrust into your hole until you spill that sweet nectar for me. Would you cry out? Would you scream your release?”
Her problem was that she did like him.
However much of this was an illusion to draw her in, there were parts that were genuine. When there wasn’t ‘work’ to talk about, he often led conversation with his own interests and hobbies - they had quite a few in common! It might have started as a way for him to show off his sophistication as he played host, but he was happy when she was able to keep up and contribute. After so many months out no-where, it was exciting to be able to get a bit nerdier with someone over her own interests! Even if they were a devil. Was it possible there was a part of him that felt similarly? Devil’s didn’t have friends, right?
…Did they say tail?
Was that…a thing? That they could do?
No! They were not going to distract her.
“-or we could get adventurous. And you would look up at me with those big, innocent eyes-” They were cackling again.
“Oh, I hardly believe you are innocent or lacking experience, dear fox. You’ve quite the self-control if Raphael hasn’t caught on to our game, yet. I think you’re much the opposite! Keeping hidden your wiles and desires. He likes to talk and brag, you know? Little ‘modern era’ girl, are the carnal delights so free where you are from? I should love to hear all about them! Could you surprise an incubus? Could I surprise you?”
“-been fucking a vampire? I could turn green with envy! Has dear Astarion tasted more than your blood? We could invite him, too! Have you ever been with two lovers at once? Stuffed so full of cock? Could your little body and holes handle us both? Or…are you the voyeur type? Would you like to watch as I fuck him? Or he could fuck me, I care not. Lie back or pull up a chair, spread your legs wide, and touch yourself as he moans on my cock. I could shove him between your thighs and make him-”
Bringing Astarion into their stupid fantasy made her angry. She could shake things said about herself, but it was much harder when she felt the urge to defend someone else.
She hadn’t told Astarion about Haarlep. He was self-conscious enough as it was while he was processing his changing feelings over his sexuality. She didn’t want to worry him or have him think it was somehow his fault if something did happen to her.
“And I shall let you in on a secret, you vixen- As I lie here stroking my cock to thoughts of you, my dear master - whose form I presently share - can feel everything!” She could hear them giggling. “I can guarantee that he’s fighting himself in those britches. Here, watch closely~”
She tried to keep the surprise from her face upon hearing that fact, probably only going unnoticed as, in that moment, she saw Raphael’s jaw tick as his eyes flicked in the direction of his bedroom from over the rim of his wine glass. He had quite the mask, too - she wouldn’t have known about this had she not been warned. At least the table between them blocked the view of anything potentially indecent.
Maybe that was karma for the devil.
“Will you go back to your camp and touch yourself tonight? Or seek the arms of your lover? I do so hope you’ll think of me. I’ll certainly be having fun.”
Thank-you for reading!
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I Want It All: Part 1
Part 2, Part 3; AO3 Link
Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist
Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Asexual!Reader, Astarion x Bard!Reader
Flirting, Light Angst, Longing
Summary: You and Astarion had been playing this little game of yours for a while; he pretends to care, you pretend not to fall for it. It's easy, even fun at times. The trouble is, what happens the moment you can't pretend anymore?
A/N: This turned into a monstrosity. For my own sanity I need to break it up into three parts. I also apologize in advanced, the stuff in the preview won’t pop up until part 2. And please, REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS! I NEED VALIDATION TO LIVE!!!
Word Count: 4.8K
The day really couldn’t decide whether it was going to be terrible or tolerable.
On the one hand, it had been pouring rain for hours, leaving you and your party drenched as you searched for some place dry to sleep. On the other hand, you were able to find an inn with more than enough rooms to accommodate all of you. On the other, other hand, rooms cost money, something that was in short supply.
“How much does that make?” Karlach asked, placing her share into the pile.
Gale counted out the coins. “Enough for our own rooms, but not much in the way of food.” His brow furrowed slightly. “Hold on, this can’t be right. Who forgot to pitch in?”
All eyes turned suspiciously to Astarion.
He raised his hands in surrender. “I put down enough for the room. Food is something…you all have to deal with.”
Lae’zel gave him a hard look, the threat obvious on her features.
“We could always share a room or two,” Shadowheart cut in. “That will at least hold us over until we can find a way to make more coin.”
A devilish smirk formed on the vampire’s lips as his eyes turned to you. “I’m not opposed to the idea. Certainly would make it easier for me to get a little midnight snack.”
You gave a theatrical sigh. “Not tonight dear. I have a headache.”
“Teasing minx.”
“Can the pair of you not for ten seconds?” Wyll complained.
You bit back a laugh, turning your gaze to the dining area of the tavern. Gods you could smell something delicious cooking over the fireplace. When was the last time you had a proper hot meal?
It was then you turned your eyes to one of the empty corners. The solution to the issue of food suddenly became obvious.
“Not to worry everyone,” you announced, swiping the coins from Gale’s hand. “Dinner is on me.”
Before anyone could speak, you stepped towards the bar, making a point to put on your best smile.
A elderly halfling woman regarded you as you approached. “What can I get you deary?”
“Actually it’s a matter of what I can do for you,” you said. “I see you have some instruments sitting much too idly.”
The old lady shrugged. “Not really. Night like this you don’t need music to bring people in.”
Your smile faltered a moment, but you pushed on. “That may be, but nothing keeps people drinking longer and deeper than a good song.”
She gave you a disparaging look. “Don’t tell me, bard right?”
“Guilty.”
“If you don’t have money for the rooms, we don’t comp that.”
You waved the comment away. “The rooms aren’t the issue. However, if you’re willing to part with a cauldron of stew, I’ll consider it payment enough.”
Her eyes remained wary, but you knew you had her as a twitch came to her lips. “That’ll do. Thirty minute set. You eat after.”
She held out a hand which you took, striking the bargain.
It didn’t take long after to secure the rooms. They were nothing fancy, but a mattress was a mattress and with the guarantee of true privacy for the first time in weeks, none of you were complaining.
“How’s this about food then?” Karlach asked, taking a seat at one of the few tables large enough to accommodate all seven of you.
“All taken care of,” you assured. “Just need to pluck out a quick set and we can eat.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Astarion said. “I don’t mind it myself, but your songs have a tendency to be a bit, well…destructive. Frankly I’m surprised you didn’t use that cutting mouth of yours to simply insult the woman into feeding you.”
“As it turns out, I have a little thing called restraint. Unlike some people,” you countered.
“Oh trust me my dear, I’m well aware of that.”
You rolled your eyes, deciding to ignore the slight twist of guilt in your stomach.
He couldn’t seem to help making those kinds of jabs ever since you had declined his offer for a midnight tryst; always alluding to the theme of “untapped passions” or “delayed gratification”. It was starting to wear on you.
Gods knew you liked him. He had so many qualities you admired; insight, intelligence, charm, the way he could make you laugh. The more you learned, the more you wanted to know and the more you were willing to give for answers. The trouble was his idea of a night of passion and yours were so very, very different.
A part of you knew the honest thing to do would be to spell it out for him. You understood him well enough to know he’d respect those boundaries. At the same time, you didn’t want to lose this, whatever this was, between you. If suddenly that night of passion was off the table, all those moments, all his attentions would be lost. He’d be a friend, certainly, but nothing more.
It was selfish. You knew it was. You couldn’t imagine finding the words to explain it to him. It would leave you too exposed, too vulnerable to that insistent burning want that had a way of tearing you apart from the inside out. It was better to leave him to his assumptions of suppression and prudishness. You’d keep your dignity at least.
Pushing those thoughts away, you took your place in the unobtrusive corner and the spare violin waiting for you.
A smile spread across your face as you tucked the familiar instrument under your chin. Since this whole adventure of yours began, you had little opportunity to apply your skills. Music had always been a source of comfort to you. It felt right to indulge in it now, some place safe and filled with warm firelight.
With a flick of your wrist you began, the resonating tone of the strings filling the room.
You allowed your eyes to close as you slipped into the melody. The sounds of conversation and laughter fell to an idle murmur. It was a simple tune, something easy to match the atmosphere, but one you loved all the same. You always found it best to start with something familiar. If the patrons could see you get lost in the music, they inevitably followed.
As the first song came to an end, you chanced a quick glance at your audience.
Most of the patrons still prattled on, but enough turned your direction to encourage you to try something a little more daring.
Your fingers flew, igniting a livelier rhythm. More eyes found their way to you. A pleasant bubbling sensation filled you. They were falling right into your hands.
Rising to your feet, you glided across the floor, moving with the music towards the center of the room.
Patrons shuffled out of the way, transfixed by your performance. Even your companions had stopped their chatter.
Karlach and Shadowheart’s faces lit up in delight. A smile touched the corner of Gale’s mouth. Even Lae’zel and Wyll looked on with admiration at your skills. As for Astarion…Astarion just stared.
You couldn’t quite read what was going on behind those scarlet eyes. It was a look you had caught him wearing more than once, always blinked away before you could fully comprehend its meaning. All you knew was how it made that dangerous hope spark in your chest.
He caught you looking and quickly morphed his expression to its familiar smirk. The bastard even had the audacity to wink.
You rolled your eyes pretending not to have seen. It was all part of the game after all. He pretended to care, you pretended not to fall for it.
A lute suddenly joined you from one of the corners, strumming its way into a new song.
You turned as a cheer rose, encouraging the intrusive lutist forward. He was human by the look of him and certainly skilled in his own right. He took a moment to embellish your solo before taking over with one of his own. Soon enough you joined the conversation again with a counter melody. It wasn’t as clean as you would have liked it. The lad clearly had meant to upstage you, but you made sure to put him in line, allowing the impromptu duet to end in some kind of harmony.
You transitioned easily to a new song as he took a seat, bowing to you as he did.
Remembering your showmanship, you made a point to bow in return, schooling your expression into a flirtatious grin before pulling away. That earned the man a round of cheers from his friends and a few obvious oohs from the crowd; exactly as you intended.
You continued on with the remainder of your set. Requests were shouted from the audience, all the pieces of music moving to and from your fingers with practiced grace. By the end of it, your arms were exhausted, but your face hurt from smiling. Gods you had missed this.
As you took your bow, applause followed you back to your table as well as a handful of extra coin.
“That was amazing!” Karlach said, beaming at you. “How’d you learn to play like that?”
“Years of practice,” you said, with pride. “Had to find an honest living somehow.”
“Well, it was beautifully done,” Gale added. “Maybe next time we make camp you could grace us with another performance. Provided we’re not all about to die of course.”
You shot him a grin. “I could be persuaded.”
The wizard turned his gaze away, his lips turning into a knowing smirk. “You’ve been unnaturally quiet Astarion. Been bewitched have you?”
The vampire blinked as if coming out of deep thought. It was only in those last moments did you realize just how intently he had been looking in your direction.
“Yes,” he said, a little stiffly, “you were quite…good.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Be careful there. You wouldn’t want to overwhelm me with praise.”
He regarded you a moment before a sly smile turned at his lips.
You were almost relieved. That look you understood at least.
“If it’s praise you crave, you need only ask,” he purred. “You, my dear, are an unparalleled talent. Your beauty and grace alone should have brought you into the presence of kings. A true diamond in the rough.”
You snorted out a laugh.
“No good?” he continued. “How about this one; if I die tomorrow and the gods grant me mercy it will be your song that brings me into the beyond.”
You gave him a slow clap. “Brava.”
He inclined his head in a little bow. “But seriously, you were good and you didn’t even destroy the furniture. Admittedly though, I wouldn’t have minded if he had met with a little accident.”
You followed Astarion’s eye line to the lute player chatting with his friends. He perked up as he felt eyes on him. Without the distraction of playing, you could easily tell he was handsome in that sun kissed farmer’s son kind of way. Probably had most of the girls in the village swooning.
He raised a tankard to you in toast.
You met the gesture in acknowledgment.
“He wasn’t that bad,” you said, taking a sip of your drink.
“He was the worst part of your performance,” Astarion insisted.
You knew he wasn’t wrong, but you couldn’t help but have your fun.
“Oh my darling, don’t tell me you’re jealous,” you said, placing a hand over your heart.
“Certainly I am,” he said, clutching his own chest in turn. “He’s the only person I’ve seen you willing to make sweet music with. And judging from his looks, he would have much preferred it to be a private performance.”
You didn’t bother looking over to the other table to see if he was telling the truth. It didn’t matter either way. It never did. Your answer was always the same.
“He’ll have to keep waiting.” You shrugged. “Not my type.”
Astarion’s eyes narrowed slightly, leaning in closer. “And what exactly is?”
You didn’t answer, deciding instead to take a long sip of your ale.
He continued to eye you, his lips pursed as if trying to solve a puzzle. After a few moments he let out an exasperated sigh.
“Fine, keep your secrets, but I will figure it out eventually.”
Your lip twitched up into a half smile. “You may certainly try.”
It was then one of the staff brought out a truly enormous cauldron of the most delicious smelling stew you had smelled in your life.
You didn’t think to wait as you greedily poured a ladle full into your empty bowl. Two full days on the road with nothing but a handful of nuts and berries to sustain you had taken its toll. The rest of the group soon followed, each taking their share. You ate yours so quickly that by the time the ladle had made the circle, you were grabbing for seconds.
“Hungry are we?” Astarion observed.
You paused mid bite, heat rising in your cheeks. You took a quick look at everyone else. Nobody seemed to have noticed how you inhaled your food. They were content enough in their own bowls and conversation. Carefully you swallowed before self consciously setting down the spoon in your hand.
“I am the one who worked for this,” you said, more defensively than you intended.
Astarion regarded you with a raised eyebrow. “Even so, it’s not going to disappear the second you look away.”
“Says you.”
“Clever,” he said, dryly. “Devastating really. What’s next? Are you going to hit me with an “oh yeah” or Gods forbid a “your mother”?”
“I was actually leaning towards, “leave me to eat in peace you pompous jackass”.”
“Oh yes, that’s much better.”
You breathed out a frustrated sigh. Hopefully it would distract from your obvious embarrassment. You had thought you’d tucked those bad habits away.
Years of living on your own had left you going to bed hungry more times than you cared to remember. There was a time food had disappeared from your plate if you didn’t eat it fast enough. Of course, things got better. You found music and people willing to listen. It gave you fire and shelter and a contented stomach on good nights. Still, there were the bad ones and old instincts took over. It took practice not to be as ravenous as you knew your nature to be.
“Do I need to worry about your hunger?” you asked, deciding to change the subject.
“Oh you of all people should know by now. I’m insatiable,” he crooned.
Your eyes narrowed, unamused. “I’m being serious, when’s the last time you ate?”
He shrugged. “Few days. Last time I fed on you I imagine.”
Your stomach gave a sudden guilt ridden twist. If that were the case, it had to have been at least three days ago.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because as much as the image of you swooning in my arms is appealing, I’d rather it be over my charms rather than blood loss.” He nodded his head towards the bowl. “From my own experience hunger and restraint don’t mix.”
You tried to fight it. You really did. Years of instinct and reason told you not to fall for the softness in his eyes and voice. He simply didn’t want to explain a dead body to the rest of the party. It wasn’t out of some concern for your well being. And you absolutely could not allow yourself to believe he recognized the desperation in your actions and not pass judgment. If you believed that, you’d be in much more danger than you already were.
“Excuse me deary,” an elderly voice asked. “I was wondering if I could have another moment of your time.”
You turned to see the barkeeper at your shoulder.
“Oh,” you said, surprised. “Of course.”
You moved to stand, but she gestured you down. It was then you noticed she was carrying a case. It was worn with age, but clearly lovingly maintained as the edges shone with intricate gold inlay.
“I know you already paid for your meal,” she said. “But I was hoping I could ask for one more performance tonight.”
She opened the case to reveal the most beautiful violin you’d ever laid eyes on. The wood was a carefully polished chestnut interrupted with carvings which matched those on the case. The strings shone like gold and the pegs carved marble. You may not be a trained wizard, but could feel the magic pulsing from every square inch of it.
“What is this?”
“It was my father’s,” the woman explained. “He was a bard you see, best in these parts from what people told. He had so many stories and songs. Built it himself to help tell them. Try as I might though, I could never get it to play as sweetly. I was hoping you might.”
You looked to your companions. The obvious curiosity played on all their faces.
With a cautious hand, you plucked one of the strings.
It was perfectly in tune. The sound echoed, rich and vibrant even with so light a touch. The instrument itself seemed to glow as if happy to be played once again.
Slowly, you lifted it from the case, taking the bow in hand. You placed it on the strings and with an exhale drew the first notes.
It was the loveliest sound you’d ever heard.
The vibrations resinated in your fingers, moving through your arm and into your chest.
You decided to start simple, a handful of scales to get the intonations just right.
Color danced across the strings, rippling from your fingers like raindrops in a pond.
“Woah,” Karlach said, her eyes widening in awe. “Are you doing that?”
“No,” you said, pausing your motions, as you let it fall slack in your hands.
The elderly halfing smiled. “My father always said an artist puts their truth into every stroke of the bow. This here helps one’s heart shine. I saw the way you performed earlier, you’re not afraid to play what’s true.”
Color rose in your cheeks, unsure how to take such praise. “Thank you.”
She just smiled, nodding towards the instrument. “Keep playing. See what happens.”
You were suddenly aware of the rest of the party’s eyes turning expectantly towards you. Some with caution, some with anticipation, and one pair of red eyes with unreadable intentions.
Knowing there was no way you were getting out of this now, you rose from your seat, placing the violin securely beneath your chin.
You started slow, picking a tune every beginner memorized in their first lessons.
The music sparkled in front of your eyes, twirling outward in melodic waves.
The hum of conversation began to die down as you spotted the barkeeper beckon for silence.
You continued on, moving to something a little more complex, allowing yourself to let the rest of the room blur in the peripheries.
The sound of boots on cobblestones met your ears. Glancing down you saw stone where hardwood floors had been.
You took another step.
The stones followed.
Around you the room fluctuated between firelight and the brightness of morning. Looking up you could see a clear sky had replaced the hatched ceiling.
A smile spread across your face as you stepped away from your bench.
As if waiting for your queue the rest of the bar quickly moved tables and chairs out of the way, clearing the center floor.
The sun followed as the cobblestones spread out in front of you like a stream. With every flourish, finer details were added. You changed the direction allowing a building to form beside you, then another and another. Images of people faded in and out like memories, coming and going with the flow of the music.
You never felt anything like this before. The strings sang inside you, drawing out a melody you knew was there, but had always managed to slip from your grasp.
You surrendered to its current, following it deeper and deeper until all you could see, all you could touch was the music.
Behind your eyes the streets began to turn and change. Buildings loomed large overhead. You could hardly see the stars. A cold swept through your clothes, the chords of the melody vibrating with the shivers in your hands. The world was so much bigger and you were so much smaller.
No instrument laid in your hands, but still the music played on as if you had slipped into a dream.
You continued to walk unsure of where your feet were carrying you until something warm pressed against your back. Light reflected behind you, casting long shadows on the ground. A melody played, soft and soothing against your own. You turned towards it as the voices of long forgotten conversation and laughter accompanied the strings of a quartet.
Your chords and theirs brushed up against each other, a new light shining in the darkness, but just as soon as it began, it moved away, leaving you on your own once again.
You continued on, brushing against others. Sparks would fly, fire would ignite only for them it fade in front of your eyes.
Your own melody grew more desperate, moving and shaping itself to match whoever you found next only just able to cling onto the barest sense of itself.
An ache grew in your chest as you wandered, always searching, never finding. Something warm trailed down your cheeks. You let it flow, unable to stop. You wouldn’t end the story here, even as swirls of blues and blacks surrounded you. They wrapped around your body, filling your vision and squeezing tight around you until you felt the air being pushed out of your lungs. There was nothing else. Even the music had gone dead.
For what felt like a moment and eternity you sat there, alone in the dark.
A voice came to you then, but it didn’t come from the instrument tucked somewhere under your chin. No melody accompanied it. It was so far away. Something about it was so familiar. It spoke your name like a desperate prayer. You reached out for it.
The air itself moved around you as if you had plucked the very strings of the universe.
A low hum came next bringing with it two pin pricks of light. A red fire glowed in the darkened space, growing until they sat as two eyes burning in the air.
You cocked your head to the side. Your own song started again, cautious as it curled around the eyes, examining them from different angles.
The eyes crinkled at the edges, amused by your persistence.
With a blur of motion, it turned to the side allowing a profile to form and beginning an enticing melody of its own.
You and the face took turns, calling and answering in playful antagonism.
The lines of light continued downward as its counter melody grew in strength against your own, forming the outline of a man.
He stepped towards you, his own head turning to the side as yours had done before, examining you from every angle.
After a moment, he bowed. You curtseyed. And then you did what only felt natural. You danced.
The heat of his touch burned your skin, but you didn’t dare pull away. You had been cold for so long you hadn’t even known you were cold. Even when it became too much, the fear of the darkness kept you in his light.
The man in turn held you close, his song teasing against your own. So unlike the duet from before, this was a true conversation, the pair of you giving and taking in equal measure. You didn’t want it to stop, holding the feeling tighter and tighter until you felt the pulse of his fire inside you.
You looked up to find the embers of his eyes pouring into you. He moved your hand to his chest. A heart pumped beneath and you knew then it wasn’t his own. Just as you had taken from him, he had taken from you in equal measure.
His face came into focus, forming a familiar knowing smirk and playful scarlet eyes.
He stepped back from you, his hand holding yours as he bowed, placing a kiss on the back of your hand.
The song faded away and you were once again in your own body, a violin tucked carefully beneath your chin.
You blinked your eyes open to find the tavern standing as it had been moments ago. Patrons surrounded you, their eyes wide and mouths open. You glanced around the room, quickly finding your companions. Horror struck you as you read their expression.
They’d seen it. All of it.
Before you could register what was happening a wave of applause erupted from the crowd. People began to cheer. You heard awed whoops and hollers. The adoration was overwhelming and completely miss timed. You needed to lie down. You needed to think.
Numbly you bowed before making your way to the side of the room where the barkeeper stood.
You held the instrument out to her, unable to look her directly in the eye.
“Thank you for letting me play this,” you said.
To your surprise she didn’t take it, instead pushing your hands away with a shake of her head.
“Keep it love,” she said. “After seeing all that, feels wrong to take it away from you. You’ve more than earned the right to it.”
You wanted to argue. You wanted to scream. You wanted to curse her for ever asking you to touch the damned thing. Somehow you managed to swallow all of that down, mumbling another thank you before slowly turning towards your party.
There was still a chance to salvage this. Astarion hadn’t seen his own reflection in centuries. He didn’t know what he looked like. You could play this whole thing up to artistic license. You just carried a general feeling of desperate longing. No need for you to clarify its direction.
Making a point to keep your head down, you put the violin away and slid it over to Gale.
“Feel free to eat this one if you want,” you said. It was meant to be a joke, but even you could feel it fall flat.
“I don’t think I can do that,” Gale said, his tone holding nothing but sympathy.
“It really was lovely,” Wyll said, gently.
“Beautiful really,” Shadowheart added.
Your jaw tightened, caught between the urge to scream or weep. Why couldn’t everybody do you the favor of the lifetime and forget they saw anything.
“Personally I don’t understand your choice in the spawn, but–” Lae’zel started only to be hit hard in the arm by Karlach.
“What?” she snapped.
Your whole body cringed, knowing exactly what was coming next.
“That was…me?”
You were in hell. This was hell. You didn’t have to look up to see Astarion’s self satisfied expression. His tone made it clear enough.
In a flash you stepped back from the table, putting as much distance between you and the party as possible.
“I need to go,” you managed. “Goodnight.”
You sprinted out of the tavern, taking two steps of the time to the upper rooms. You didn’t stop until your door was firmly slapped behind you.
Your breaths came hard as your heart pounded in your chest. Honestly you didn’t know how you locked the door. Your hands were shaking so badly as tears blurred your vision. All the emotions the violin had pulled from you returned, overwhelming you in their intensity.
The instrument had done as advertised. It had shown the truth of your heart, putting it on display for the whole world to see. Gods you were an idiot. Why did you even pick up that damned thing?
You kept your ears open, listening as everyone made their way to their rooms. Their murmurs never made it past the walls, but the way they paused as they passed your door made it clear enough they were discussing you. Thankfully they were kind enough to leave you be.
Counting, you waited until all six doors shut before rising to your feet.
As you did, you felt a small pull at the back of your mind. A vision of a door number and the feeling of anticipation sat on your tongue. The invitation was clear enough; Astarion was waiting for you.
You wanted to ignore it, but you knew you couldn’t. There was no use in pretending any longer. The game was over and you would have to face the consequences.
With a steeling breath, you walked out the door. You could only hope Astarion wouldn’t hate you when it was all over.
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