#I just wanted to draw astarion looking at the sun and then this happened oop | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

petchic101 · 8 months

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Burn the World to Ash

Oops I wrote an Astarion brainrot one-shot? Whaaaaat. Basically what if Tav was an old acquaintance of Astarion's in high society and she was just another victim of the rich and powerful.

Fluff and Angst No smut in this one folks

Word Count: 5371

This is also kind of a trauma dump, how the body reacts to trauma, and how the body reacts when you are dying of blood loss.

TW: eludes to SA and Abuse // Blooood // Death

Enjoy! Please let me know if you want to see more, I have my main play through with my sex positive wood elf xAstarionxHalsinxEmpororxHaleep that I have a tone of ideas for! (mostly smut)

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The sun shone brightly on the coastal cliffs as Ren saw an old acquaintance from Baldur’s gate. It pierced off his white locks and pale skin quite vividly. She hadn’t remembered seeing him in this light before, perhaps any light before if she was honest. The high society parties Lorroakan often dragged her to were usually twinkled with firelight after the sun had set. The pale elf had never paid her any attention, odd considering how Lorroakan often paraded her around, dressed provocatively enough to draw any and all attention inevitably towards himself. None of Cazzadors magistrates would flock to her and her master like the other nobility would, even Cazzador himself would stop to pay her false compliments, kiss her hand or smell her hair before talking to the Wizard that kept her. Her eyes had drifted up one of these times, the pale elf stood frozen, staring. Neither daggers nor jealousy met her eyes, but a primal… fear, one of not knowing what was going to happen next.

Suddenly she was on the ground, a knife to her throat, she froze. “Shhhh not a sound, not if you want to keep that pretty little neck of yours.” Her first instinct was to go limp, to comply. He seemed to notice her body language and pressed his knife closer to her, propping himself to get a better angle. He hadn’t yet looked at her as his head turned to her newest companion. “Now you, I saw you on the ship, yes? I need answers or your darling companion will pay the price.

Shadowheart’s fist clenched. “Let her go or I swear to all that is holy-”

“Ah ah ah.” Astarion tsk’d as the dagger pressed to Ren’s neck drawing blood.

“Astarion, yes?” Ren wrapped her hand around the hand holding the knife to her throat. His reaction was knee jerk to the touch and she was slashed. But the attack was sloppy and she was able to roll away with minimal damage to her neck. He quickly jumped to his feet, still holding his dagger at them. “How do you know my name?” He hissed, panic in his red eyes, but they finally registered the girl in front of him. “Gods, your Lorroakan’s pet.” He spat the sentence then sighed rolling his eyes as he hilted his dagger, putting his hands up. “Apologies.” Suddenly the parasite in her head lurched, taking in the quick memories passed between them, not of nights of merriment but a feeling of fear while skulking moonlit Baldur’s Gate. They all held their heads, not used to the sensation. Before a full recovery could be had, Astarion pointed at her, still palming his eye. “You’re some sort of magic witch, explain this!”

Ren looked at him dumbfounded. This beautiful magistrate, plucked from the eves of high society and dropped in the middle of nowhere, why he looked absolutely displaced, a hilarious spectacle. She started laughing, almost keeling over, the somberness of the events were placed on a backdrop of nonsensical impossibilities. Like watching a play where only one of the actors was stuck in song.

Her companions stood awkwardly not knowing what to do, but Astarion puffed his chest, not liking the thought of someone not taking him seriously. “No, no, none of that, do you know what’s going on or not?”

That night at camp things were much calmer, they had managed to gather six survivors from the crash so far, including herself, oddly all of them capable of some form of martial ability or magic. Astarion sauntered up to her while she was alone, much like he did to others at those frequent parties. “How funny it is to run into someone we’ve met before, yes?” His voice was melotic, hypnotizingly so. It hit chords not unlike Cazzadors or Lorrorakan’s but much sweeter all the same.

“I suppose so.” So much had happened today she had almost forgotten how to put on her show, the one she did for high society, it was not something she was hoping to have to do when in a life or death situation. She tried to match her tone to his, a sweet harmony to keep up appearances. “I’m especially surprised you recognized me Sir, we barely saw each other in passing, odd considering how close our patrons are.” She added her own little barb at the end, something Lorroraken would have whipped her for, but he wasn’t here and this man had avoided her like the plague ever since their first meeting.

Astarion paused, perhaps not expecting his tone to be matched so quickly, or perhaps because the barb had actually stung, but she doubted it. He grabbed her hand, bringing it to his mouth. “An error of judgment on my part I’m sure.” As he went to kiss it she ripped her hand from his before she could think. He looked up, shocked. Shit. The fear must have shown on her face, she had just insulted a magistrate, one with a very powerful patron. His face softened but she quickly stood up, giving a slight bow.

“I am sorry Sir, I must be delirious from today’s events.” She straightened herself as he stood next to her. His gaze slowly took her in, her dress was badly torn, exposing old bruises that she probably hadn’t even noticed, was he feeling pity? She was just another victim of the politics inside of the city. She was lucky that Cazzador had banned them from hunting her, she was certainly a beauty, an innocent looking one that would seek comfort in his arms, and Astarion would have been happy to oblige until handing her to her fate. But she was not one of his victims, she was an easy ally to keep, he needed to make sure his grip was tight.

“Don’t be darling, today’s events have all of us out of sorts, perhaps tomorrow we can meet again as allies and not as magistrates and apprentices.” The worms communicate feelings of relief between them and she nodded hesitantly.

“Out here I’m not, how did you put it? ‘Lorroraken’s pet’?” She smirked. A warning, if he were to go to his master about some sort of insult, she could go to hers with the same claim, and this put them truly on equal ground.

Astarion grinned knowingly. She was not the pushover he had been hoping for, but someone formidable makes for easier travel than dragging some tag along noble. In all honesty though, he could not stop thinking about tasting the blood off of his blade that night.

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The group had made Ren the de facto leader, almost from the fact none of them were willing to step up. Except Laezel of course, but even she could tell these istyk would only follow one of their own. Karlach was a soldier, Wyll and Gale are self conscious loners with complex mommy or daddy issues. Shadowheart couldn't even remember her favorite book. And of course Astarion preferred the shadows. He did not think she would take to the role well considering how presumably sheltered she was. But her lessons in the nobility paid off, her quick wit in forms of persuasion were a sight to behold. She would not hesitate to use their new powers to get the edge up on whoever they were at odds with, making Astarion wonder if that was a technique her master had taught her to utilize before. She eased into the parties multiple personalities quite readily, she melded with these people in ways he could not, or perhaps would not. They flocked to her, she was altruistic, but willing to do what had to be done, she listened to everyone's problems and promised loyalty and companionship, she even helped prevent two of their new friends from exploding. Doing it once would have been a feat in itself, but it's weird that it happened twice.

But something that caused Astarion much grief was that she would always find a way to include him, even when he and the others had a silent understanding that he was better off being alone. Not that she did this all the time, she gave him plenty of space, but group decisions were always made with the whole group present, his exasperated sighs usually being his only input aside from his snarky comments. He felt himself comforted though, how she would put herself as a physical barrier between him and the group, not in an intimidating way, just something that she picked up on that made him more comfortable.

These past few days they had set up camp in caves or dungeons, he hadn't hunted beforehand and he cursed himself for it. He was not used to being surrounded by blood this often, the constant smell was intoxicating, especially hers after he had that small snack off of his dagger after their first meeting, and even a small suckle of old blood from her had been the best thing he tasted in 200 years.

The battle before they set up camp was particularly vexing, they had killed all of the goblins in this abandoned temple, but fighting that damned drow was a whole ordeal. Ren had stepped in front of him, mage armor made her especially stupid, he was in and out of the shadows usually, firing sneaked shots in critical places, but that damn scrying eye stayed on him. Shadowheart had to grab Karlach who had been pushed off the rickety bridge, a half dead goblin still on their tails, the bear kept him occupied though. He and Ren had been cornered by the drow leader, but she stood in front of him, quarterstaff defending as rapier and dagger slit her skin, sometimes her magical armor deflected but not enough. She then was quite literally shoved into him, he hit the bookshelves behind them, barely managing to grab her so she wouldn't take the brunt of the force. In doing so her blood had covered him, bathing him in the sweet smell as his head hit the shelf. Minthara knew this would buy her time and swung to help her companion, not wanting to get overwhelmed from behind.

Ren seized in and out of consciousness as he fished for a healing potion, he sat them up quickly holding her waist tight so she would stay upright. "Don't die on me now." He shifted her so he could feed her the potion her hand lifted, cupping his as she drank it. It was one of the more potent ones, his from the equally shared that were divided amongst them but he didn't care. He needed her to lead this rag tag group, he needed her alive. He needed to see her smile again, watch her facade slip as she genuinely laughed around a campfire. He needed her.

The battle finished, all of them nearly dead as Halsin gave some over enthusiastic praise. Shadowheart was out of healing spells, but she managed to patch Ren up for the most part, dried blood and dirt caked her but exhaustion took hold and she fell asleep on top of her bedroll as soon as they got back. The scent of blood permeated around him. He tried to meditate, read, perhaps relieve himself in other ways, but nothing worked. And suddenly he was over top of her. Crawling on his hands and knees like some wild cat stalking its prey. He had never indulged himself. Even when Cazasdor ate in front of him, letting the blood, off whatever thinking creature, pool on the floor. He never dared try and lap some up for himself. But tonight he was free, and tonight he was hungry. The campfire casted an uncomfortable spotlight on him as he looked around, no one was awake, but the light hit him like the heavens judgment for the monster he was. He started with her hand, lifting it gently, then a little more fervently to make sure she was asleep. When she didn't stir he slowly started licking her. Carefully at first then his hunger took over, he lapped his tongue over her uncovered wounds, scraping his teeth against her scabs to hopefully satiate the overwhelming instinct to bite and suck. As skin off her waist broke and as new blood pooled into his mouth he moaned, his hands formed into fists as he shifted his weight to get a better angle. But spawn or not his saliva was still a natural coagulant, and her wounds were shallow compared to what his teeth could do. As they closed he cursed, sitting himself up and wiping his mouth. And there he saw her bright blue orbs staring at him. The fear of prey written on her face.

"Shit" how did he not hear her heartbeat speed up, for how long she had been awake. He scooted away as she sat up. "It's not what it looks like I swear." He stuttered out, his regular vibrato gone. Ren rubbed her eyes. The shock of adrenaline to her system had woken her up, but the blood rushing to her head made it feel like it was going to explode.

"It better be what it looks like Astarion." Her voice was a whispered hiss. For some reason she was not trying to wake the others. He waited, confused, for her to continue. "You were trying to feed I hope, not taking advantage of me, well, not in that way I suppose." She was too calm, like she hadn't woken up to him feasting on her like a cat lapping up spilt milk.

"Excuse me?" He managed to spit out as the realization hit him. "You knew!? This whole time!? You knew and you didn't even mention it? Not once?" His face scoffed and his nose squiggled up his face making her roll her eyes.

"You're not exactly subtle, Astarion. Though I suppose you only have genuinely smiled around me, the others haven't noticed but you have, let's say, some rather large teeth." She was smirking now, catching their mysterious companion off guard was quite a feat. He sat more relaxed now as she propped herself up, looking at the wounds. "Closed" she whispered to herself unsurprised.

"I'm sorry I didn't realize I was traveling with Baldur Gate’s local vampire expert!" Astarion flailed his hands making her laugh. But it was a dry one as if she was lost in thought.

"It's not my… first time being fed on, Astarion." The words were heavy in her chest as he froze, letting her continue. "Lorroakan would blindfold me and have some of his 'special' guests feed on me sometimes. I don't know if it was one person or multiple." She trailed off. And her eyes grew dark. "Lucky me, a wizard of that caliber always has plenty of revivify scrolls laying about." Astarion felt the rage grow inside him. Cazzador would force them to hunt for his meals almost nightly, then would still feel the need to indulge himself at his friend's homes!? Astarion gave a dry laugh that turned hysterical. He covered his mouth to keep the noise under control.

"I can assure you it was but one man, if you can even call him that. "

"Cazzador." She whispered it as a statment. They paused for a short while. "So you never…" she trailed off.

"No darling, Cazzador kept us on a diet of Rats and whatever other stray animals we could get our claws on. 'The blood of the thinking creature is not for scum such as ourselves.'" He quoted his old master with venom on his tongue.

"Then have you ever?"

"No darling, I have not eaten anyone." A guilty look passed over his eyes as he looked at her.

"Then how was it?" The question came out of her so simple, so mundane, as if he had just tried a new flavor of pie.

He was taken aback before reflex kicked in and he went back to his suave character. "It was, dare I say, decadent."

She easily fell back into her own character, letting the reality of what they had just admitted to each other fade into the background. "You could have asked."

The frivolously bantered about the possibility of him getting staked before he would ask permission, but he ended it on a serious note.

"I suppose I should ask then, I can feel like it will unlock my potential, I can prevent things like today from happening, protect you." He offered, licking his lips.

She thought about the times Cazzador had sucked her dry, when the blood in your body fades, your heart goes on overdrive, thinking it's doing something wrong, but all of your muscles lose control, the wet of sweat coats your body as you are both in the most relaxed state and more panicked than ever before. It is not a slow death, internally screaming as your body is paralyzed. Fingertips and toes go completely numb, nerves shoot pain up and down your arms and legs until eventually you're asleep.

Astarion watched her dissociate into the memory as he grabbed her hand. "I won't kill you I promise." His eyes were genuine, knowing the pain from the memory she was going through.

"I want to try." More than anything she wanted her body back, she wanted to make the decision to say yes, so this memory would not always be burdened with the knowledge she never gave consent.

He sat up, too quickly, too hungry. She flinched but relaxed as he did not move to grab her, allowing her full control. He was handsome, she had always thought so, romance stories of vampires and their mortal prey were often read in her younger years, and though that fantasy had been spoiled by the reality she faced, she longed to set herself in that naive state of mind.

Out of many of the nobles he had always stood out to her. She would never inflate his ego by telling him this, but when the attention was finally off of her and she had served her purpose as a conversation starter for Lorroakan, at the end of the evening she would find herself watching him, how he danced and charmed his way to any and all lads and ladies that surrounded him. It was quite a spectacle. And here he was, all of that grandiose attention on her, well, her blood to be exact, because she was willing and he was able. She grabbed his hand, leading it around her waist. He started to lean in, to move them into a laying position, so he could pierce her neck. But she stood firm and he complied, not pushing her. "Is this alright?" She offered him her wrist. His smile was wide, devious, and happy.

"Of course my sweet, however you are comfortable. This is a gift, I will not soon forget it." He wrapped his arm tighter around her waist as he grabbed the hand she offered him. Planting kisses from the palm of her hand to her upturned arm. She gave out a squeaked moan as she made herself comfortable in his lap. He purred at the noise, giving her neck and jaw some approving pecks, his own excitement starting to harden in his trousers. She bit her lip, burying her face into his neck, pecking his skin before giving a comfortable hum, rubbing her hips, happy by the fact she excited him. "Are you ready?" She nodded into his shoulder as her body tensed. "I need to hear you say it aloud." His command caught them both off guard but in the best way possible.

"I'm ready." She braced herself as his teeth pierced her wrist, it was slow, intentional, he did not want to hit bone. Blood started spilling out before he could begin drinking, making the first few seconds of his meal desperate slurps, like a man trying not to spill his wine. But he settled into a rhythm, letting her blood coat his tongue. The vibration of his satisfied hum on her skin gave her goosebumps. The pain quickly set itself to a low drone, the moment felt more intimate than anything she had felt before. She had always loved serving others, but in her most formative years her choice to do so was taken away, her forced servitude to anyone her Warden wanted had made her forget about that side of her. This gave her the same joy that voluntarily helping the tieflings gave her. And it was her choice to do so. She peered up from his neck, her head light from the blood loss and the moment. His eyes were closed, the corners of them wet. Without thinking she licked one of his tears away, slowly and gently. This pulled him out of his stupor and he looked at her blankly, in shock.

"Vixen." He grumbled under his breath, turning back to her pierced flesh to lick the wound closed. His tongue flattened over her skin again and again. She merely stared at him in awe as he occasionally would look to her, a grin flashing on his open mouth as he finished cleaning her. She rested her head back into his shoulder, suddenly exhausted again.

Half conscious she felt him lift her, she felt him cleaning the dirt and blood from her body after he removed her armor, the cloth damp but not cold. She woke up the next morning, still clothed but slightly dizzy, her brain needing to work a little extra hard to find the words she needed. Astarion sat across the cave, reading as usual, but this time no wine in his hand, his gaze only going to her once, smirking after her most likely large plastered smile met his gaze.

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The tieflings sang and danced throughout the camp, Ren showed a genuine smile, but when she thought no one was looking, a tired half smile placed itself on her face. This was his moment to do what he did best, use his body to earn more of her trust. Besides, he owed her his own body after she had given him hers.

She sunk back, out of the natural circle that surrounded the fire. The tired closed mouth smile carved into her face like stone. As Astarion managed to sneak behind her, he gently grabbed her arm, she thrashed around as if to hit him, most likely instinct. He caught her wrist, putting a finger to his mouth. She let out a breath of relief to see it was just him, but he did not release her, the feeling foreign. She let her arm go limp and he wrapped her hand to his back, letting it rest, her reaction was not flustered but she certainly wasn’t resisting, so he continued. “This is an awful ruckus compared to what we are used to, yes?” He grabbed her other hand in his, and spun them away from the fire and into the shadows. “The wine is pig swill and the devil spawn are loud. Shall we perhaps have our own fun?” His eyes adjusted to the darkness and her face was not blushing, not eager, it had set back to the closed mouth smile.

“Of course sir, if that is what you desire.” The sing-song of her voice was broken, cracking, like a lute slightly out of tune. He released their closeness, stepping back to access her, he left her fingertips in his, so he could pull her back in if need be. He gazed at her, up and down, something was so familiar about how she was behaving, but he could not place it, perhaps she reminded him of a victim from long ago? Her voice brought him back to reality. “Your tent is further from current company.” He nodded and led her there, taking both of her hands to lead her inside, shifting himself around so that she could get a comfortable spot inside.

“Now I will say this is not the lavish rooms we are used to but it will do the job.” He turned to close the tent behind them, by the time he turned back she was already pulling her tunic off her shoulders, exposing her breasts. “Oh my, eager are we?” no something about her movements were practiced, stiff.

“Sorry sir, did you want to undress me?” His eyes widened as he finally placed the familiar feeling. In 200 years he had not been able to look in a mirror, but here stood his reflection, when the body and soul split to do whatever needs to be done. He was not seducing a young woman into trusting him, he had brought a husk into his tent. He silently cursed himself as he slipped her blouse back around her, buttoning the buttons. Her eyes widened, he could feel her fight or flight kicking in as her body tensed. How did he not see it before? He knew that the wizard abused her, but because he had not cared, didn’t mean she was not a person who wasn’t affected by it. She quickly grasped his hands, squeezing to prevent herself from shaking. “Y-you’re doing it wrong.” A ragged whisper escaped her lips.

“Hush now.” He growled, not at her but at himself, her flinch though told him she could not tell the difference. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he finished dressing her. “And stop calling me sir, I am no master of yours.” He paused as she looked at the ground her hands gripping her shirt tightly. “I may have miscalculated the type of fun I was willing to have tonight, my apologies.” She looked, hurt, no, terrified, as if she had done something wrong. He had been enslaved to act the predator, but she had been caged to act as prey.

“Did I do something wrong?” A panic had set into her voice, as if not fulfilling this role could end in something much worse.

When Astarion was done buttoning her he paused, sitting back on top of his calves. He waved his hand dramatically. “Of course not my sweet, you are perfect.” He was still putting on the false voice when he spoke, perhaps actions would speak louder. “Do you trust me?” They both knew she didn’t but all he needed was the nod of acknowledgment she gave him. He took off his shirt as she sat up from her half lying position. He did not want her to see his shame, not yet, no sob story needed to be poured into her lap tonight, but something in him wanted her to know she was not alone. He held his hand out, allowing her to choose to take it if she wished.

After a slight hesitation, she matched his sitting position and placed her hand in his and he swiftly guided it to his back, where she could trace his scars. Her eyes widened as she leaned forward to get more comfortable, he grabbed her other hand to help her balance as her fingers gently traced his greatest shame. He struggled not to flinch but his body slowly relaxed under her touch. He gathered the strength to glance down at her face, her lips were pressed tight together but her eyes stared past him, she was not trying to peek at what she was feeling, for which he was more than grateful for. Her neck was strained, a perfect position for a bite. But he shouldn’t be thinking about that now.

After what felt like an eternity of silence she pulled back, he was grateful her eyes were not full of pity but understanding. “There, it seems that high society is not always kind to itself.” His mouth was strangely dry as his voice verged on cracking. Ren nodded. She didn’t have to ask how he knew, the scars she had traced seemed purposeful, almost runic, but she did not want to push him further. His hand that had caught hers to help her balance felt strangely more connected than when she had her shirt off earlier. So she didn’t let go of it and squeezed. “This wasn’t for me you know, I wanted to do something. Something to thank you for the gift you had given me earlier.”

She blushed, neither of them were looking at each other, a strange comfort hung in the air not having to put up their acts. “Astarion, you don’t owe me anything.” She whispered, still holding his hand, their fingers interlocked. You didn’t just take my blood that night, you allowed me to make that choice. That is a finer gift than I have received in many years.”

Astarion sat confused, watching her fingers stroke against his, merely two people getting used to positive touch again no doubt, nothing more. “Than why did you agree at all? If it was merely the decision, you could have, I don’t know, decided to say no, and taht would be that.” He was so used to talking with his hands he accidentally threw hers up as he didn’t let go and she laughed, being thrown off balance for merely a second. But she finally let go and layed down on his many pillows, her head slightly propped up.

The flustered look on her face surprised the vampire. “I wanted to hear you moan again.” she mumbled. He laid next to her, eyebrow cocked dramatically. “Darling there are much easier ways to get a man to moan than feeding him parts of your body.” He was not going to let himself seemingly blush from her confession.

Her laugh was dry. “You never seemed interested in me that way, and besides, I’m… I don’t know if I even want to do that, I tend to shut down.” He nodded knowingly.

“I wasn’t interested in you my dear because everyone I had sex with was eaten and killed. Lorroakan had requested you be left alone. Ironic considering what he let Cazzador do to you in that tower of his.” She listened, taking in Astarion’s words his frustrations. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder, pulling him to her chest, where his rigid form eventually relaxed. She kissed his forehead.

“I don’t think either of us need pity sex.” She spoke, maybe to herself, after the comfortable silence permeated the tent. He laughed, this wasn’t his plan, he wasn’t supposed to share his greatest traumas with someone, he was not supposed to feel bad for her. They had enough to contend with if he was actually going to ask her to kill Cazzador, but if that was the route he was heading for, adding an arch mage to the list just made sense.

“I don’t need your pity.” He huffed haughtily, his arm over her stomach as she played with his hair.

She chuckled. “And I don’t need yours.” He let out another huff. This was not supposed to be how their night ended. She was supposed to be screaming his name against some gods forsaken tree in the middle of the woods. He would finish his role, letting her fall for him, though he hadn’t thought past the first night, he had never had to before. But here he was in some woman’s arms that on some level knew every harsh reality he had seen. He could tell her if she hadn’t lived it, truly known what he was talking about perhaps it would have been easier. It would just be some sob story he would get to milk every once and awhile. But this was real, she probably felt the same feral protectiveness over him that he was feeling for her right now. But he knew he had no excuses anymore, no whoa is me to fall back on, and that was scarier than anything. That she could go through the things he had been through and still want to help and love. Where all he wanted to do was burn the world to ash. A quick peck on his forehead brought him back to reality. A half hummed goodnight escaped her lips as she fell asleep, and he was left to ponder.

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