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mooshywrites · 2 months

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Bloodied Stars - Part 4 - Velvet Hairpins and Plush Pillows

Fem!Reader x Ascended Astarion

Masterlist

Art commissions

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Comment here to be tagged in chapter updates

Word count - 6.3K

Warnings - (Series contains - Angst, “enemies” to lovers, pregnancy, disagreements, slow character growth, smut, typical asshole ascended astarion behavior, cliffhangers, murder, death - This takes place after the events in BG3, the ‘reader’ (you) is not Tav. Just a Baldur’s Gate resident )

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“Yours always.”

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Chapter List

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“What’s his name?” you asked, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could even register them as thoughts.

“Astarion,” the pale man whispered, his voice more tense than before. He slipped past the door and shut it before you could ask anything else, leaving you in the dark dusty room.

You fell back against the bed, too tired to cry any more than you had. You stared at the gold and red stitching on the duvet below you, trying your best to ignore the shade’s dead match to the Vampire’s eyes.

Astarion, you thought, rolling the name around in your head.

Sleep pulled you close faster than you could realize, the chaos of the day already fading. Images of Astarion danced in your mind, his sharp features softening the same way they did when you caught his mask slipping. The way his eyes held a stormy complexity that both intrigued and terrified you.

Before your eyes fluttered shut for the day, your naive heart couldn’t help but remember his all too pretty lie.

“We could be a family.”

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The next morning, you awoke to a soft rustling sound in the room. Slowly opening your eyes, you blinked in surprise to see a small figure hovering at the foot of your bed. It was a pale wiry woman, her features much softer than the spawns you’d seen thus far. Thin wrinkles creased her eyes and her smile lines, making you wonder how someone who looked so happy could be in a place like this. She hummed softly, her melody winding through the air beautifully.

“Good morning, Miss,” she chortled, giving you a warm smile. You couldn’t help but smile back, her comforting aura shining brightly through the dusty room.

In her hands, the spawn held a tray filled with an assortment of breakfast items. There were delicate pastries dusted with powdered sugar, fresh fruits arranged in an artistic display. There even sat a cup of fragrant tea in the corner, steam rising in tendrils. The spread looked like something out of a lavish banquet, not a meal found in the home of a vampire.

“Where did you get all of this?” you questioned shyly, your voice still thick with sleep.

“Well I made it,” the woman replied with a grin, setting the tray down next to you.

“You cooked all of this?” you asked incredulously.

The woman chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement at your disbelief. “Yes, indeed, I did,” she confirmed, her voice carrying a gentle lilt. “Cooking is one of the few joys I still hold onto from my human days. Though the skill goes to waste most of the time in this house.”

“It really is lovely,” you whispered, sitting up and giving the tray another once over.

The spawn accepted the compliment graciously, her smile growing wider as she gave you a slight nod. Warmth bloomed in your chest, your heart clinging to someone so kind in a place so compassionless. The spawn before you seemed so different than the others, almost sounding maternal as she explained the different dishes.

As you both made small talk, you couldn’t help but be more and more drawn to her infectious energy and kind demeanor. The way she spoke about cooking with a mix of nostalgia intrigued you, making you want to know more about her past.

To know that despite vampiric nature, someone could still have some humanity.

After a while, you finally gathered the courage to ask for her name. She paused for a moment, as if contemplating whether to share that part of herself with you. Then, with a soft smile, she whispered, “Evelyn. My name is Evelyn.”

The name rolled off her tongue like a melody, fitting her perfectly. You repeated it back to her, savoring the chance to connect with someone though you were trapped here.

With a graceful gesture, the woman handed you the cup of tea, the rich aroma enveloping you like a warm embrace. It smelled of deep herbs and spices, faintly sweet after a while. You took a small sip, worried you’d look like a starved animal if you ate at the speed your growling stomach demanded.

The woman let out another melodic laugh, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Go on, Miss,” she urged, her small hand gesturing towards the feast before you. “Don’t be shy. I’ll still be here to keep you company while you eat to your heart’s content.”

You tentatively picked up a delicate looking pastry, its flaky crust glistening in the warm candlelight. As you took a bite, the taste exploded in your mouth. A perfect blend of buttery sweetness that made you all but forget about the ache in your stomach. But as you swallowed, a sharp pang shot through you, and you immediately felt queasy.

Evelyn noticed the sudden change in your souring expression and reached out to your arm, concern etching lines on her forehead.

“Are you alright, dear?” she asked softly, the genuine worry evident in her voice. You tried to muster a reassuring smile, but the discomfort gnawing at your insides made it difficult.

“I- I think I just need a moment,” you managed to say, setting down the half-eaten pastry with a trembling hand. The woman’s eyes softened with understanding, and she reached out to pat your hand gently.

“It’s alright, my dear. Don’t force yourself to eat it,” she assured, exuding care. “Perhaps it’s too rich for your current condition.”

You felt a surge of guilt at her words, knowing how much effort she must have poured into preparing the breakfast before you. How you had hoped with all your heart that someone in this house would be kind, yet here you were, too weak to accept the gesture. The woman seemed to sense your inner turmoil and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Do not fret, Miss. I understand pregnancy can bring about peculiar cravings and aversions. Especially with a dhampire child,” she said with a comforting smile. “Let me bring you something lighter that will nourish both you and the little one.”

“Dhampire?” You squeezed her hand back, hoping she wouldn’t leave just yet. As painful as it was to admit, you felt so much safer, so much more cared for with the woman here.

“Dhampire,” she repeated with a nod. “A child conceived of a vampire and non-vampire. I can’t tell you much more than that, the Master should explain all of that to you.”

“I don’t want to see him,” you said quickly, trying to keep the panic out of your tone. The hurt of the day before was still raw in your chest, you weren’t sure if you could face the man without devolving into a storm of tears.

Whether that was the hormones or the being kidnapped part, you couldn’t tell.

“Oh, miss,” the woman sighed, giving you a pitying stare. She seemed to deliberate for a moment, her expression softening as she gazed at you with a mix of sympathy and understanding. With a gentle touch, Evelyn reached out to brush a stray lock of hair away from your face, her touch cool and comforting.

“I can see that the Master’s actions have left a mark on you,” she murmured softly, her voice carrying an underlying current of familiarity. “I won’t tell you what the right thing to do is. But you can’t avoid him forever.”

“I know,” you whispered, feeling a sense of resignation settling in your chest. Despite your dread at the thought of facing him, you knew Evelyn was right. You couldn’t close yourself off from him, especially not in his own home.

“I’ll put together something lighter for you to eat, my dear. Someone will bring it to your room shortly.” Evelyn cooed, her thumb rubbing circles on your hand.

“Can’t I go with you?”

Evelyn’s eyes softened with a mixture of sadness and longing, seeming to want the chance of more time with you. There was a moment of hesitation before she spoke, her voice gentle yet firm.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, dear. The Master has given strict orders that you are to remain in your room until he decides otherwise,” she explained, her delicate features betraying a hint of worry.

You felt a surge of frustration suddenly, your condition hurtling you into a new emotion. If you were going to be imprisoned here, the least the arrogant “Master” could do is let you into a hallway.

As Evelyn rose from her seat, her movements graceful and purposeful, she leaned in closer to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Be patient, my dear. If anyone can get through to him, it’s you,” she whispered. “He’s already been out of sorts since the first night you were behind these walls.”

With that, she glided out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the remnants of the uneaten pastry.

You watched Evelyn disappear through the partially opened door, the soft click signaling your solitude once more. Her words lingered in the air, your feelings growing conflicted. The dusty room suddenly felt oppressive, the weight of your confinement bearing down on your shoulders.

With a determined sigh, you rose from your bed and set about tidying up the neglected room. The dust motes danced in the magical light, making you wonder how you made it all of this time without being reduced to a puddle of sneezes. The soft glowing light from the room made you wonder, realization dawning on you that this room was much brighter than the hallway you were carried through.

With vampire’s having near perfect night vision, did this mean that someone had purposefully lightened the room for you?

You shook off the idea. The last logical thing would be to think that your kidnapper cared about you at all.

You rummaged through the bookcase, stumbling across an old rag. With meticulous care, you began to scrub away the inch thick layer of dust, each swipe revealing more of the delicate wood beneath it.

As you cleaned, a sense of purpose began to ease your anxieties. The rhythmic swish of the rag against the wooden surface was strangely soothing, almost hypnotic. Each stroke revealed the intricate carvings on the bookcase, depicting scenes of knights in battle and dragons breathing fire. The craftsmanship was remarkable, each detail painstakingly etched into the wood with precision.

Lost in the beauty of the carvings, you almost failed to notice the faint creaking sound coming from the corner of the room. It wasn’t until you heard a soft click that snapped you out of your trance. Glancing over, you saw a previously unnoticed door slightly ajar, sunlight streaming in from the other side.

Curiosity piqued, you cautiously made your way towards the door, your footsteps silent on the dusty floor. Pushing it open further, you were greeted by a washroom that seemed to belong in a palace rather than a forgotten room.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked towards the stained glass windows. Why on earth would there be a source of sunlight in the home of a Vampire? Even if being ascended meant you could walk in the sun, you knew for a fact that the spawns couldn’t.

Who was this room meant for?

You stepped further inside, gazing around the room. The walls were adorned with shimmering mosaics that glinted in the light of the colored glass, casting a rainbow of reflections across the marble floor. The air was scented with the sweet fragrance of dried lavender and jasmine, the tiles beneath your feet cool and smooth.

A large claw foot bathtub sat in the center of the room, its gleaming surface inviting you to sink into its depths and wash away the grime of captivity. Dusty towels were stacked neatly on a golden rack, perfectly placed next to the row of dishes filled with bars of soap.

Overwhelmed by the sudden luxury surrounding you and the mystery of its existence, you felt yourself growing tense. You quickly stepped back, shutting the door to the washroom gently behind you.

As you turned around, you were startled by your bedroom door swinging open. Your eyes tried to adjust to the dimmer light of the room, focusing in on the figure. Your eyes widened at the sight of Amastacia standing there with a tray in her hands.

Amastacia’s presence sent a surge of anger coursing through you, memories of her betrayal flooding your mind. You could feel the heat rising within you, the urge to confront her clawing at your insides like a beast hungry for vengeance. But you held yourself back, your jaw clenched tight as you glared at her from across the room.

Amastacia’s eyes met yours, a flicker of annoyance passing through them before she composed herself into an icy mask of indifference. With a nonchalant grace, she sauntered towards you, the tray in her hand rattling slightly with the plate of bread upon it.

“Breakfast?” Amastacia offered, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

You recoiled at the sound of her voice, the memories of her honeyed lies still fresh in your mind.

“I don’t want anything from you,” you spat out, your tone laced with barely contained fury.

A smirk tugged at the corners of Amastacia’s lips, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, darling, no need to be so hostile. After all, you need all the food you can get since you’re eating for two,” she said, settling the tray down with a clank.

You eyed the bread warily, knowing better than to trust anything that came from her hands. You could hear the thinly veiled aggression in her words, the challenge she was presenting.

“Surely, you don’t expect me to eat something when the last meal we had you drugged,” you gritted.

“Surely you don’t expect me to care,” she bit back, all fake pleasantries disintegrated. “I’m not going out of my way to make you eat, even if you are Master’s latest pet.”

Your blood boiled at the mention of being called Astarion’s “pet”, the audacity of Amastacia’s words cutting deeper than any blade.

Speaking of blades, the moment you came in possession of something sharp, you were driving it through this harlot’s chest.

Beneath the anger you felt lay a flicker of something else, a strange sense of possessiveness that tugged at your heart. As much as you despised Astarion at the moment, part of you longed to be more important to him than just some means to an heir.

With a forced calmness, you pushed aside the bread, refusing to let her see how much her words truly stung.

“I am not anyone’s pet,” you said through your teeth, your fist clenched at your sides.

Amastacia’s laughter rang through the room, sharp and mocking.

“Oh, sweetling, you are far too naive if you think he thinks otherwise. You’re nothing more than a momentary nuisance,” she taunted, her eyes gleaming with malice.

A surge of defiance surged through you, igniting a fire within. You stood taller, meeting her gaze head on with a hardened glare.

“Maybe he doesn’t, but you’re no better. Nothing but another one of Astarion’s slaves,” you retorted, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

The air crackled with tension, the unspoken challenge hanging heavy between the two of you. As Amastacia’s smile faltered ever so slightly, you knew you found the chink in her armor.

Astarion.

Amastacia’s broken smile quickly transformed into a sneer, her eyes narrowing with a dangerous glint. The mention of Astarion’s name had hit a nerve, and you could sense the shift in her demeanor as she struggled to regain control of the situation.

But you refused to back down, emboldened by the realization that you held power over her at this moment.

“You think you know him so well, don’t you?” Amastacia’s voice was laced with venom as she took a step closer, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “But you have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the intensity in her gaze, but you stood your ground, unwavering in your defiance.

“I may not know everything about him, but I know enough to see through your facade,” you shot back, your tone challenging.

Amastacia crumbled before your eyes, revealing a glimpse of the seething rage and possessiveness that lay beneath. Her chest heaved with each ragged breath, her eyes blazing with a fierce intensity that sent fear through your veins.

“You know nothing,” she hissed, her voice barely more than a whisper but filled with a deadly promise.

In that moment, the room seemed to shrink around the two of you, the air heavy with tension thick enough to suffocate. You could feel the weight of her fury pressing down on you, starkly contrasting the affectionate gaze she started this whole series of unfortunate events with.

“Maybe not,” you conceded, trying to swallow back the adrenaline coursing through your veins, “but I know unrequited love when I see it.”

Amastacia’s eyes widened at your words, a mixture of shock and fury crossing her features. The room seemed to vibrate with her suppressed emotions, the air crackling with the intensity of her anger. In a sudden movement, she lunged towards you, her hands clawing at the air as if trying to grasp hold of something intangible. You barely had time to react before she was upon you, her nails digging into your skin as she snarled incoherently.

Pain flared through your body, sharp and biting as Amastacia was overcome with a primal rage that seemed to consume her from within. It was as if a beast had been unleashed, all semblance of control slipping away in the heat of the moment.

You fought back as best you could, adrenaline fueling your movements as you tried to push her away. But her strength was surprising, her grip unyielding as she continued to claw and snarl, her face contorted with a savagery that chilled you to the core.

Just when it seemed like Amastacia’s onslaught would never end, the door burst open with a resounding crash. Astarion stood in the threshold, his crimson eyes blazing with a fierce intensity that matched the flames of Amastacia’s fury. His presence was like a tempest, commanding attention and respect as he surveyed the chaotic scene before him.

Without a word, Astarion moved swiftly towards you, his movements fluid and graceful like a predator closing in on its prey. In one swift motion, he ripped Amastacia off of you, his strength overpowering hers effortlessly. She snarled and hissed, struggling against his hold, but he held her firmly in place with an iron grip.

“Enough,” Astarion barked, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. The force of his command seemed to quell the storm of emotions swirling around you, bringing a moment of calm amidst the chaos.

Amastacia glared at Astarion for a split second of undisguised hatred, her chest heaving with anger. Astarion’s glare deepened, leaving no room for argument.

“Leave,” he spit, his tone deadly.

For a moment, it seemed as though Amastacia would defy him, her aggression sparking like embers in her eyes. Yet then, with a venomous glare in your direction, she wrenched herself free from Astarion’s grasp and stormed out of the room, her rage echoing in the emptiness left behind.

As the door swung shut behind her, a heavy silence descended upon the room, broken only by the sound of your ragged breaths and the distant echoes of Amastacia’s footsteps fading into the night. Astarion turned to face you, his expression growing more exasperated than angry.

“What did you do to make her so upset?” Astarion sighed, his frustration palpable as he looked upon the aftermath of your scuffle. His gaze fell upon you, accusatory and questioning at the same time.

In response to Astarion’s question, you felt a surge of indignation rise within you. He quite literally had to pick her up like a rabid animal and he’s assuming you were the one in the wrong?

“I did absolutely nothing,” you seethed. “Maybe you should be more careful with who you ‘employ’ from now on.”

Astarion regarded you with a mixture of surprise and skepticism, his eyes probing yours for any sign of deceit. After a moment of tense silence, he let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his silvery hair, seemingly lost in thought.

“I admit, I may have underestimated her propensity towards violence,” he relented.

“Underestimated?” you laughed dryly, holding out the deep claw marks on your arms. “She would have killed me! Might I remind you that if I die, your precious heir dies too?”

Astarion’s expression darkened at the reminder of the stakes involved, his features hardening with resolve. With a curt nod, he took your arm in his hand, looking over the scratches. You winced at the stinging pain, but his touch was surprisingly gentle. His cold fingers traced the lines of blood, his expression becoming softer with each passing moment.

As he observed, you found yourself drawn to his presence once again, the way his fingers soothed the pain sending goosebumps across your skin. You tried to ignore the way your heartbeat began to flutter, the undeniable pull you felt towards the pale elf ramping up again.

Astarion’s gaze lifted from your arms to meet yours, his expression unreadable.

“Forgive me,” Astarion murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Moving faster than you could realize, he brought your arms to his lips, licking a long stripe along the fresh cut. His eyes never left yours, the sensation of his tongue grazing your skin sent heat through your chest. A mixture of fear and an unsettling thrill coursed through you as you looked on.

As he finished cleaning the wounds, you could feel the tension between you heating in the air. Astarion’s gaze held a hunger that you weren’t quite ready to unpack, afraid of what his gentle touches meant. With a sudden intensity, he leaned closer, his breath mingling with yours.

“You should never have been put in danger. I won’t allow such things again,” he whispered.

His promise hung in the air, low and sure. You were caught in a trance, unable to tear your gaze away from his hypnotic eyes. In that moment, you knew your life had become completely intertwined with the vampire, bound by an unspoken connection that defied logic.

“Now come,” Astarion said simply, straightening and dropping your arm. Gone was the intensity of his gaze, your mind reeling to catch up with his mood changes.

Did the pregnancy hormones seep into the air and affect him as well?

“We need to go see our in-house healer. Evelyn informs me that you haven’t been able to eat.“

You followed Astarion out of the room numbly, still trying to catch up from the intimate moment you had just shared. The tension lingered between you, a potent mix of fear, desire, and uncertainty swirling in the air. As you walked through the dimly lit corridors of the castle, you couldn’t shake the feeling of his lips against your skin, the memory burning hot in your mind.

When you reached what must have been the healer’s chambers, Evelyn was already there. Your smile grew wide at the sight of her, the stress of the day already seeming to melt away.

“You must know how to do everything, Evelyn,” you laughed, looking around at her healer’s office.

The space seemed to be a sanctuary within the cold stone walls of the mansion. Soft, flickering candles cast a warm glow, illuminating shelves lined with jars of herbs and vials of potions. The air was thick with the earthy scent of dried thyme, instantly calming your racing heart.

Evelyn cast a weary glance at Astarion before looking at you. Her eyes immediately flitted to the deep scratches on your arm, her breath gasping sharply.

“Oh, sweetling, whatever happened?” she cried, rushing over to look over your injury. She glared at Astarion, no fear in her eyes. “Did you do this to her? I swear to every god I can name, if you did,” she threatened.

Your jaw dropped in surprise, completely shocked with how brazenly the older spawn was speaking to the pale elf.

Astarion only chuckled softly at Evelyn’s stinging words, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

“Now, now, dear Evelyn, there’s no need for such hostility. I assure you, I had nothing to do with her little mishap. Ask her yourself.” He waved his hand dismissively, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Nothing, hm? You should take better care of her,” the woman narrowed her eyes skeptically at him before turning her attention back to you. With gentle hands, she began tending to your wound, applying a salve that soothed the pain instantly.

“Might I remind the Master, she is growing your child,” she continued, chiding Astarion as if he were a babe.

You watched the exchange between Evelyn and Astarion with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. It was clear that despite his confident mask, Astarion held a healthy respect for the old spawn in front of you. As Evelyn continued to scold him, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude that there was someone in this building who seemed brave enough to talk to Astarion like he wasn’t a god.

The pale elf leaned casually against a nearby table, his eyes never leaving you with an odd sense of concern. The tension that had filled your life earlier had seemed to dissipate, replaced now with comfortable small talk.

“You wound me with your accusations,” Astarion teased, a playful glint in his eye. “I would never harm our little one… or its vessel,” he added with a grin.

You couldn’t help but smile back, despite the obvious disrespect in his tease. It was so interesting to see the man act this way. It was as if he had been replaced by an entirely different person, a doppelgänger that wasn’t so needlessly dark and depraved.

Perhaps Evelyn just had this effect on everyone.

Evelyn rolled her eyes at Astarion’s dramatics but couldn’t hide the spark of affection in her gaze. She turned back to you, finishing up the treatment on your arm with practiced ease.

“You’ll be as right as rain in no time, my dear,” she reassured you, patting your hand gently. “But do take it easy. For your sake and the baby’s.”

“Of course,” you nodded gratefully.

“Speaking of,” the woman directed her attention at Astarion, “I believe I know why she is having trouble keeping food down.”

“Oh?” Astarion prodded, his face growing serious. Based on his reaction, you wondered if it was something they had talked about before. You felt your chest flutter at the thought of the two of them being concerned about something so mundane.

“I believe that when an Ascended Vampire conceives a baby, the pregnant person has to consume vampire blood for the baby to grow,” Evelyn began, her voice lacking a sense of humor. She paced between the two of you, throwing her hands up as she spoke.

“It’s an exceedingly rare occurrence, mind you,” she continued, her brow furrowed in concentration. “But I was able to find it documented in a few books I’ve studied. The blood of an Ascended carries with it a unique quality that is essential for sustaining life. For parent and child.”

A hush fell over the room as her words lingered in the air like rotting meat. You couldn’t help but feel your stomach upturn at the gravity of her revelation.

“I have to drink his blood?“ you asked quietly, feeling positively ill.

Astarion threw you a glance, seeming all too aware of your discomfort in the situation. “For the baby,” he whispered, his gaze unwavering. You could see the concern in his eyes, his feelings seeming genuine for once.

Evelyn nodded solemnly, her expression grave. “I understand this is probably too much to ask of you,” she said, her tone gentle. “But it is the only way to ensure the child’s survival. And your own.”

As she made her way towards the door, Evelyn paused, turning back to look at you both. “I have to go about my rounds now,” she said, her voice tinged with pity. “I will leave the two of you to discuss this further.”

Alone in the dimly lit room, the reality of the situation sank in. The thought of consuming blood, fresh blood, turned your stomach. The image of it swirling your mind like a dark, viscous liquid.

“I’m sorry,” Astarion offered quietly, taking a few steps towards you. “I realize that the last few days have probably been a lot for you to handle. Even without adding this on top of it all.”

Astarion reached out a hand, his fingers hovering just inches from your arm as if unsure of whether or not it would be welcomed. His words held a weight to them, a sincerity that caught you off guard. You couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth in the cool room, the shadows dancing around you both.

“Drinking blood… It’s not something I ever imagined myself doing,” you admitted softly. The very idea seemed monstrous, unnatural. Yet, there was an undeniable pull in Astarion’s eyes, a depth of understanding that made you question your own reservations.

“I think I would be more worried if you had,” the pale elf chuckled.

He let out a soft sigh, his gaze meeting yours with a matching uncertainty. “I never imagined I would be in this position either,’ he confessed. “But it must be done. I won’t risk your-… I won’t risk the baby.”

“I don’t even have fangs,” you replied numbly, ignoring the pause in his sentence.

Astarion broke out in a grin, unable to stifle a laugh. “It’s a slight impediment, I suppose,” he teased, the tension in the room easing just a bit. “I am more than willing to lend you mine.”

He held his hand to his mouth, biting into the skin softly. You couldn't help a nervous giggle, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. You felt a strange mix of revulsion and gratitude as you watched Astarion pierce his hand.

He must have sensed your mixed emotions, his eyes soft as he raised his bleeding hand towards you. You hesitated for a moment, the fear of actually drinking his blood still coursing through your veins. You looked up into his eyes, trying to borrow some of his ever present confidence.

You took a deep breath and slowly reached out to touch the trickle of blood that had formed on his skin. His fingers trembled slightly, exposing his own apprehension in the situation. He gently wrapped his other hand around yours to steady it, his touch sending a warm surge of reassurance.

You would have to unpack his newest affectionate demeanor when you weren’t face to face with his blood.

As you hesitantly brought your lips to his hand, Astarion’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you could see a flash of desire. The moment felt vulnerable, the vampire offering a part of himself to you.

You closed your eyes, willing yourself to trust him, just this once, taking a small sip of the blood from his hand.

The flavor zinged across your tongue like electricity, completely different from the metallic and putrid taste you expected. Instead, it was smooth and rich, like the finest wine you had ever tasted. It flowers through your veins, alighting your nerves and filling you with a sense of power and strength. It was exhilarating and vaguely reminded you of how it felt to have the pale elf’s aphrodisiac bite.

Astarion watched you intently, his lips parted ever so slightly and his eyes filled with satisfaction. You pulled away, savoring the taste on your lips and the warmth that spread through your veins. You couldn’t help but look into Astarion’s eyes, seeing the matching spark reflected in them.

For a moment, you forgot how dangerous the man in front of you was, or how volatile the situation you found yourself in. All you could focus on was the growing intensity in the air around you, Astarion’s eyes flitting to your lips.

You exhaled a shaky breath, a small tentative smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Thank you,” you murmured softly.

Astarion nodded, his eyes still locked with yours. His hand held yours close, leaning in ever so slightly. You could see the flecks of gold amongst the ruby sea of his irises yet again, your breath catching in your throat.

Astarion’s gaze heated for a moment as he shifted forward, his breath mingling with yours. The tension between you pulsed like a living thing, wrapping around you in a heady embrace. His touch was feather light on your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he brushed his lips against yours.

The kiss was hungry, bordering on desperation. You realized you felt exactly the same, your feelings raw and exposed once your resolve had been peeled back.

You wanted him. Wanted him so badly.

Craved him like it was the air that you breathed. It may be irrational, perhaps even foolish. But you had been chasing the high you felt your first night with him despite the wall firmly placed between you.

But just as quickly as the passion ignited between you, Astarion pulled away abruptly, the fire in his eyes dimming to a cool mask of indifference. His jaw clenched, betraying the turmoil within him as he turned away, his back now to you.

You watched him in silence, feeling the weight of his absence hanging heavy in the air. It was as if there was a chasm between the two of you, wider and deeper than any physical distance could ever measure. Astarion stood motionless, his shoulders tense with an invisible burden that seemed to crush him from within.

The vulnerability you glimpsed in him just moments earlier now made your heart ache with a longing you couldn’t quite name. You reached out tentatively, your fingers hovering over his arm before hesitating. Would he push you away or pull you closer?

You pulled your arm back silently.

“Feel free to roam outside of your room from now on. Just don’t leave the grounds. I’ll find you in the evenings to feed.” Astarion broke the silence, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Right, thank you,” you replied, uneasily matching his demeanor.

As Astarion left the room, you were left standing there, the echo of his presence still lingering like a ghost in the empty space between you. His departure felt like the closing of a door, separating you from a world where anything seemed possible.

Returning to your own chamber, you sank onto the edge of the bed, your mind swirling with thoughts of him.

Were you falling in love with him?

The question echoed in your mind, bouncing off the walls of doubt and fear that surrounded your heart.

You traced patterns on the coverlet with trembling fingers, lost in a maze of uncertainty and hopes. Astarion was a puzzle you couldn’t solve, a riddle wrapped in enigma and shrouded in darkness. And yet, there was a hint of something in his eyes, a longing that drew you into his embrace time and time again.

The night stretched on before you like an endless tapestry, woven with threads of longing and desire. Torn between wanting him close and fearing that the whole affectionate thing was an act, you wrestled with your own emotions in the quiet solitude of your room.

You were drawn back to the washroom, craving the view of the outside world. The moon cast a silvery glow through the glass, painting everything in shades of grey and blue. As you sat, staring at the stars, you wondered if there was even a place for anything more than duty and necessity in Astarion’s life.

If there was a place for you.

Sleep finally claimed you, pulling you into a dark embrace on the cold tile floor. Even while deep in slumber, you couldn’t help but feel that you didn’t mean anything to the pale elf at all.

When you awoke to the sunlight filtering in, washing over you like a warm blanket, you immediately regretted falling asleep on the hard ground. Your mood was sour as you trudged back into the bedroom, your eyes catching on a plain paper resting on the small bedside table.

You picked it up curiously, flipping it over to see the writing. Tied to the edge was a small hairpin. The silver piece was adorned with delicate ivory carvings of intertwining vines, their leaves and flowers forming intricate patterns that seemed to shimmer as they caught the light.

It was absolutely magnificent.

As you examined the hairpin more closely, you found that the tip had been sharpened to a fine point, one that would easily draw blood with the slightest wrong movement. You felt your chest flutter, your eyes flitting back at the note attached to the gift.

All of your doubts melted away as you read the crimson cursive writing, the words giving away more than your pale elf could ever say.

“For my fangless vampire so that she’ll never again grow hungry.

Yours always,

Astarion.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

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