Astarion x M!Reader

Eighteen

Your brow furrowed, you sat at your table, legs spread out, watching Astarion greedily empty his glass.

A thin thread of red ran down the corner of his mouth, over his chin and dripped onto the white tablecloth. Panting, he put his glass down, but there was still that contemplative thirst in him.

You knew that feeling, the smell of blood chased it up your throat. Slowly, you sipped from your own glass. It didn't taste as good as the humans', but it would do the trick. Astarion stared greedily at the red that sloshed back and forth.

"You want more.", you realised.

He swallowed hard. Obviously he didn't dare ask for more. It seemed as if this was already something special for him, he had drunk as if he was being drained dry until his life danced on the edge of death.

But not close enough to death. He had to have some value to Cazador. Or possess an ability that was irreplaceable.

Breathing in deep air, you snapped your fingers. Shadows trembled, a bottle appeared next to his shoulder and poured him another glass.

"This will be your last for today.", you said.

His fingers twitched back, almost disappointed. Swallowing hard, he put his hands in his lap. It took a moment for you to realise what he was doing.

He wouldn't touch the glass again. Not until he knew that there was a safe refill from somewhere. After all, he didn't know when he would drink next.

That seemed to be a recurring thing in Cazador's palace. You had to sigh. This man was giving you nothing but a headache.

"Astarion.", he flinched at the sound of his name. "Calm down. You'll drink again tomorrow. Animal blood doesn't last long. But if you drink too much now, it will strain your stomach and you'll throw up. Then it will be for nothing."

His eyes were glued to the glass. A thin film of red was still stuck to the brim. He licked his lips at the sight of it.

"Drink.", you gestured with your hand. "But not too quickly."

His fingers immediately gripped the glass. He greedily took two quick gulps. Only when he had to catch his breath did he remove it from his lips.

He glanced around the room. As if he expected to have to defend himself at any moment. Or his food. Precious food. Essential to life.

Your eyes narrowed.

The conditions in Cazador's palace must be worse than you had expected. But it wasn't much of a surprise. After all, you knew Cazador too well to think he was capable of being lenient. Or kind. It just wasn't in his nature. And not in his mind either.

Your hands clenched into fists at the memory. Anger flitted across your face. Perhaps the memories were still too powerful, because the shadows around you shuddered. How you hated that he still lurked under your skin like a plague.

Astarion continued to down his glass. In his haste, he choked, bent over and coughed so hard that his lungs rattled.

Breathing in deeply, you close your eyes. No, you had to gather your wits. Now was not the time to wrap yourself in the past. Or in the pain.

Nausea scratched at your throat, wanting to crawl up your neck. Breathe through your nose and out through your mouth, you thought to yourself and rose from your chair to pat Astarion on the back.

The coughing subsided. But he tensed up as your gentle pats stroked his back. Now he sat cramped in his chair and didn't move. He was trembling again, a whimper stuck in his throat.

You raised your hand.

"Astarion.", his name was so soft on your tongue and yet sharper than any knife you ever cut yourself with.

"Are you going to hurt me?", he asked suddenly.

The question sent a shiver down your spine. You felt sick again. But this time for his sake.

"No.", you said without hesitation.

But he hesitated. He always hesitated.

"How much will it cost me?", he asked.

Prices. Yes, that sounded like Cazador. For him, everything was worth its weight in gold, every mistake, every greed and every life. Especially life. It had a lower price for him since he had become immortal.

Strange, when you considered that he had once been a boy who had rolled in any dirt to survive. And you had always pulled him out. Again, the scar that adorned your body at the bottom of your torso tightened.

Why did it feel like he was calling for you?

Or trying to destroy you without lifting a finger. You almost laughed at the thought. This was one of the few perks you enjoyed after sharing the vampire lord spot.

He couldn't kill you. Not because he wasn't strong enough, but because you were two sides of the same coin. If he killed you, the law of retribution would turn him to dust as well.

Sometimes you even toyed with the idea of killing yourself just to drag him into the abyss with you. But you didn't want to die. You just wanted to enjoy an existence without him.

"There are no prizes in this house.", you said and turned away. "Only what you need."

"That's utopian!", he hissed and wrapped his arms around his knees.

"No. It's normal.", your footsteps echo in your own ears, mingling with the smell of rosemary and mint on his skin.

Fire burned on your skin. Astarion's eyes watched you. So much uncertainty, so much fear. Something inside you smirked.

He was watchful and unobtrusive when he wanted to be, quiet on his feet, almost like one of your shadows.

Your feet stopped in front of the door. A deep breath escaped you.

"Astarion.", he blinked at the sound of his name.

Then he frowned. Confusion appeared in his eyes.

"Why does your voice sound...", he had to think. "Why aren't you screaming? Why do you sound like you like my name?"

You snorted. But it was a bitter sound.

"I have no desire to emulate Cazador.", you replied. "But now let me ask you something. What do you like to do?"

Confusion. So much confusion. Fear of trusting the words and confusion as to why you did what you did.

"I... don't know what I like."

"Hm. I believe you.", you glanced out the window, where the midday sun was trying to creep into the room. "You should go to sleep. And when the moon rises, come into the garden."

Your eyes fell on his slender fingers. He would probably make a good archer.