#idk i'm just thinking how different the graveyard night was to everything that came before

[mercymaker]

turns out this note wasn't all i've done for this piece. i was thinking a lot about astarion's perspective slowly shifting when it came to intimacy and sex.

With time, when he saw her splayed naked on top of the sheets, Astarion stopped thinking about all the bodies that he had doomed, or all the people that were careless with him, that hurt him. His mind slipped less and less to the horrid nights when he had forced himself to touch those he'd never wanted, those that sent disgust creeping up his throat. The times he had to fight those thoughts soon dwindled in numbers as something warmer, something kinder replaced them.

When Astarion looked at her, he felt her softness, he remembered those very first times when they had truly touched each other. Not in the wilderness, where they both felt like cornered beasts doing anything to survive. Not the feigned courtesies and honeyed words, even if — unbeknownst to them — there was a hint of honesty hidden in them. Instead, the spawn thought of his first night of true freedom. How hungrily they touched each other after confessing love. How warm Mal's skin felt when he took her — eager, happy — over the remains of his lost life.

Suddenly, it all started to feel different. How sweet desire tasted when it was backed by freedom, by choice. Astarion could, finally, close his eyes without a worry, touch his lover without the fear dancing at the tips of his fingers. For just a brief moment, he simply let go of all the terror that was ever-present for almost two centuries.