Astarion x M!Reader

Thirty-Four

"I wish I could give you freedom.", your eyes stared wearily into the cold night.

A light breeze brushed through your hair, blowing the hem of your robe.

The house lay deserted. The last one had left a few hours ago, your blood had filled them with courage and a new lust for life. They would still have to hide from the sun, the blood was not nearly enough to become a vampire lord.

But it was enough to buy freedom.

It felt like strings had been cut from your heart. The weight had been lost, but with it the connection you had felt to them all. It was still gently tugging at your chest, but it was only a matter of time before that was gone too.

Now you were completely alone in an estate that was bigger than you wanted it to be. So many empty rooms. You felt transported back to a time that couldn't have been darker.

Too close to the past. Too close to Cazador's betrayal.

"They will die.", Astarion said, resting his chin on your shoulder.

An icy smile flitted across your face. You were tired. The last time you had been tired, your flesh had still been mortal.

"You think?", you asked casually, turning your head to blow a kiss on his hair.

The red of his eyes was dark.

"I know...", he murmured with a frightened indifference.

With your eyes closed, you sucked in a deep breath, lifted your chin and felt the wind.

Power still danced through your veins. Now that you no longer had to worry about the others, no longer wasted energy trying to hide them under Cazador's eyes, you felt so much more complete. As if chains had fallen from your feet and you could finally swim to the surface again to catch your breath.

It hurt to think like that. And yet it was the unalterable truth. You had wasted strength to protect her. In this state, it would have been impossible to be a match for Cazador. Because he drew his strength from cruelty. And there was never a shortage of it. Especially not under his rule.

"Platinum.", Astarion sighed your name.

He moved against your shoulder, turning his head while fingers reached for your arm to hold it tight. There was still that uncertainty in them. He still wasn't quite who he could be. Or wanted to be. It would take some time yet.

You weren't sure if you could get him long enough, but you wanted to try. Even if it served Astarion himself, you didn't do it without a little ulterior motive.

Astarion was powerful, could be powerful and he had a value to Cazador. It was unclear what that value was, but it existed. If you trained him, taught him to be himself and play with that fact, he would make a good spy in his master's ranks. Possibly even an ally.

Just like your old master, the thought flashed through your mind.

Bitterly, you pulled a face. It disgusted you to think like that. And yet. This was how to survive. You knew that, because you remembered what it had been like back then. Like animals in the dirt, worth no more than the dust under other people's boots.

How you had hated looking into their faces and seeing nothing but disgust. No compassion. No will to help. Because you simply weren't worth it.

And now Cazador had internalised this attitude. Now no one was worth more to him than the dust beneath his boots.

"Forgive me.", you whispered to yourself.

Suddenly you felt so weak again, so frail.

Mortal.

"I forgive you.", even if you didn't ask for it, but Astarion's words were sage for your soul.

It couldn't heal wounds, but it was enough to soothe the pain of the scar that stretched across your abdomen.

"Do you truly wish to kill him?", you asked, caught in the silence. "For me?"

He shook his head lazily.

"No.", he replied. "For myself."

A smirk made its way onto your lips. You snorted.

"Good boy."

His lips curled at the compliment. You couldn't see it, but he forced himself not to smile. Snorting, he threw his head back. White waves caressed his high forehead.

It smelled of rosemary and mint, with a hint of roses.

"Would you like a bath?", you suddenly asked without thinking about it.

He huffed and leant back, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I don't bathe with men for free.", he whispered with a teasing grin.

Now it was you who had to laugh. It was wonderfully relieving, filling your chest with warmth. Suddenly it felt easier to breathe. The pain of loss had shrunk to a dull throb.

Only the loneliness remained. The same as always.

"I wouldn't pay you for anything.", you laughed, flicking two fingers against the tips of his ears.

He winced at the slight pain, took two steps back and pressed a hand to his ear.

"Hey!", he gasped, a slight blush on his face. "I'm sensitive."

You smirked. Of that you were sure.

Your gaze travelled over his body. He had been given new clothes after his arrival, tight black leather trousers and a white cotton shirt with ruffled sleeves. The cords were open and offered a deep view of his slim chest.

He was still far too thin, his body showing every secret of former violence against him. But at least he had taken on a healthy colour. Or at least a healthier colour.

Because who could say what a healthy colour was for a vampire?

He scowled and leant forward, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Should I smear myself with fat?", he asked in a sarcastic tone. "Then your stare would be at least justified."

Rolling your eyes, you lifted your chin, snorted and tried to swallow a laugh.

"The songbird has found its voice.", you realise curtly.

Not smiling was harder than you thought it would be. Especially now that you were so pleased to see him as if he had changed. He crossed his arms in front of his chest again.

Inwardly, you reminded yourself to offer him some blood again. Now that his stomach was used to food, he could eat reasonable portions and his recovery would no longer be so lengthy.

A few more days and he would be strong enough to try again with the bow.

"Astarion.", you smiled gently at him. "Dine with me. Please."