Astarion x M!Reader

Fourteen

A low hum hummed in your throat as you crossed your arms behind your back and walked between the tall bushes.

Scents filled your nose, sweet, tart, bloomy. The smell of iron, approaching rain mingled with the woody flavour of the earth. A rustling sound sent a pleasant shiver down your spine as the guessed sang a song.

Astarion ducked his head next to you. Although as a vampire he could hardly feel anything like cold, he seemed to be freezing. He was even shivering again.

"Would you like a cape?", you asked with a sideways glance.

Wrinkles appeared on his face as he drew his eyebrows together. He had beauty marks on his face. A casual realisation, but it gave him something special, something you could tell him apart from the others.

Again he hesitated. It seemed to be a habit of his. He often hesitated, especially when he was asked questions. And he also seemed reluctant to ask for things.

A long breath tightened your chest.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to. And if you do answer, I won't use those words against you.", you began, turning a corner on a hedge, down three small stone steps and along the edge of the stream that ran through your garden. "I've known Cazador longer than I could have loathed. He is... completely himself. And much worse. I make no assumptions, only you know what it's like to have to serve him, to be dependent on his whims."

You stopped in front of a stone bridge that led to a small island with a pavilion overlooking the pond. Your expression was neither hateful nor friendly. You simply looked out over the water.

His red eyes followed your gaze. Tension eased in his shoulders as the wind chased small waves across the smooth surface.

"He has no influence over you here. This is my realm and mine alone. Even though you are not mine.", you glanced at him to catch his reaction. "I cannot promise you that you will never have to return to him. You might even want to go back. Who am I to judge? But for the time you are here, know that you will not be asked to do anything. If you need it, then ask for things. If you crave it, then seek the closeness of others."

"The weak need help...", he hissed softly, his face contorted with resentment. "And the weak are only worth slaughtering."

There they were. Words Cazador had planted in his mind.

"In a world where one has to fight to survive, I might agree. But this is not his palace. It is a refuge. If you want it to be."

Your eyes met and for the first time you thought he dared to think a free thought.

Satisfaction washed over you. A smirk twitched at the corner of your mouth. With a slight bow, you took a step away from him and allowed him to be alone.

Completely alone, just for himself and without a foreign presence breathing down his neck. His eyes were fixed on the water. Infinite longing was reflected in the silver sparks that the moon planted in his eyes.

You wondered if he was thinking about the life he had lived before immortality. Perhaps he longed to return to it. Or he was thinking about the mistakes he had made. Starting with the fact that he had allowed himself to be enslaved by Cazador.

A hoarse huff escaped you as the shadows wrapped around your feet.

Cazador was probably of a different opinion. For him there were no lies, only sweetened words. You knew him, knew how good he was with his tongue. He could turn shit into gold and then sell it for diamonds. Yes, even a deal as bad as becoming his serf he could make sound palatable.

It was just too bad that it had been Astarion who had fallen into his trap. He seemed too sincere to serve such a monster. Or rather, not to break while he went about his work. If one could even call it work.

You wouldn't take the privilege of pretending to know what Cazador demanded of his spawns. Because you didn't. You only knew what he wanted from his friends. And the memory made your undead heart stand still.

You hated it.

And yet.

Sometimes, in very weak moments, you mourned the lost friendship.

He hadn't always been like that, had he?

At least you couldn't remember it. Sighs escaped your lips. What an ordeal.

When was the last time Cazador had caused you such trouble?

Suddenly you paused. No, that wasn't the point now.

Darkness surrounded your vision. The world distorted before your eyes and a room appeared.

A cosy shiver ran down your spine. It smelled warm, like damp water and dried flowers. Mint and rosemary caressed your skin.

If you could feel it, you would gladly take a bath. But that would have been a waste of the warm water.

Astarion, on the other hand, would hopefully be pleased. Not all mortality seemed to have been lost from him yet.

Albert was wiping his hands clean when you stepped into the warm candlelight. He wasn't startled by your sudden appearance, he never was. If anyone had unshakeable faith, it was Albert.

Both in you and in the family you had created. Both for yourself and for the others. In the end, you were all lost souls hiding from loneliness.

Albert looked around curiously.

"Is that disappointment, my darling?", you asked with a slight snort.

His eyes fell on the bath.

"I think it's warm.", he said, looking at the slightly reddened tips of his fingers. "Or hot... I'm not sure."

You gently took his hands and kissed his fingers.

"Thank you.", you kissed his cheek. "If it burns Cazador from his skin then it will be good."

Albert nodded.

"Where is he?"

"Astarion."

He hummed.

"Astarion. Where is he?"

"He needs time. Like you all did, he'll come when he's ready."

Albert pursed his lips.

"I'm not hostile to him.", he said honestly. "But... he's different. His arrival was different."

"He's just not mine.", for some reason your chest tightened when you said it.