Astarion x M!Reader

Forty-Six

The world twisted. It was like an earthquake just much bigger, worse in all the ways.

The ground trembled and yet it could not announce the hells that were about to come crashing down on one man, one poor fool.

Yes, a fool. That was what Cazador truly embodied. A man who desperately clung to power since his mind was too limited to make better use of the possibilities that immortality offered.

A gruesome smile hoovered over your lips.

That was what the two of you still had in common. You were both fools, although for such different reasons.

Hate and anger tried your chest as the shadows wrapped around your feel and pulled you to darkness. It was like the stormy kiss of a lover, the impatience of a child that couldn't wait.

You felt welcome yet rushed as they carried you far, further than your mind could grasp and all of a sudden it was all chased away by silver strands that fell from the sky.

Damp grass nestled against the soles of your feet, accompanied by the tender touch of icy cold fingers. They trembled. It was all you needed to know what was going on.

"I heard your call.", your voice echoed from the trees, bounced off the earth and shattered the sky into thousands of shards of dark. "And I followed it."

Tears glued Astarion's fine lashes together, blood and saliva mixed on his chin as he pressed out a soft sound that was more than a whimper.

It shattered the last bit that was left of your heart.

And yet.

You couldn't get rid of that smile on your face. It wasn't even the kind one, the one you gifted everyone who had ever crossed paths with you.

No.

This was a different kind of smile, thin-lipped which nothing but pure anger shimmering in those red eyes of yours. Sharp teeth were exposed, shimmering in the silver of the moon and the stars.

Below your feet the shadows squirmed and screamed. Their dark fingers reached out for him, tried to grab the shadow of his throat to squeeze it just the way he had down with Astarion.

"Platinum.", it was almost disappointing to hear just how unbothered Cazador was by this display of unrivalled power.

With a flick of his hand he chased the shadows away who returned to your feet like dogs that sought shelter in their masters guidance.

Your eyes flinched with annoyance.

They glowed red in the dark, your face halfway covered by the shade that a tree threw across your body. Half of you shimmered like it had been forged from silver while the other was darker than sin.

You were but an endless voice that longed to consume him once and for all. Dryness crept up your throat as soon as that thought crossed your mind.

"I wonder...", your words made the roots of the trees curl. "What does evil taste like?"

Cazador's lips formed a smirk. Just how much of a fool he was. Either that or he was more insane than you could have ever imagined.

Who in their right mind would dare smirk into your face like that?

Fingers curled and the shadows yelled. They waited for a command, for an order to hunt for blood. But you restrained yourself.

Now it was you who was the fool.

How could your stupid heart still keep this spark of hope alive inside your chest?

Why was there still this thought lurking in the back of your head?

He'd never be able to change. Because he simply didn't want to.

And yet.

Astarion let out a shaky sigh. His legs were still numb so he pulled himself closer to you, curled up between the safety of the trees roofs and sunk into the darkness.

Your darkness. His save haven.

Relief washed over you as his presence filled the emptiness of your soul. You could feel him breathe, taste the blood that ran down his chin.

The beating of his heart filled your ears.

Cazador's eyes narrowed with displeasure.

"Return him immediately.", he demanded.

You laughed. So much so that it made a few trees around fall over as if nature itself had abandoned them. Healthy leaves curled and turned yellow until there was nothing left but ashes and a dead, hollow trunk.

"Oh, Cazador.", you frowned as the memory of his name, his real name, chased a bitter taste across your tongue. "Forgive me my ignorance. How could I take your spawn that you gave me as compensation? How could I be so rude and loathe your presence on my property?"

A hiss escaped him. His lips curled.

You could smell him. Ashes and rocks. Almost like the desert.

But a whole lot lonelier.

What was that?

You frowned. Never before had you noticed this scent that stuck to him. It didn't seem quite like him and yet you felt like it was so familiar.

As if you had smelled it somewhere before.

Tilting his head, he tried to hide the grin that grew on his face. But Cazador had never been a good liar. Not to you.

"Do you remember this?", he asked, arms spread to bathe in the light of the moon as if it were his and his alone to have. "Familiar, perhaps? One of your feet has been there before while blood ran down your abdomen and wetted the sheets of our bed."

The scar he had given you contracted all of a sudden. Gritting your teeth, you pressed a hand to the pain.

"Speak up, Cazador, we don't have an eternity!", you snarled.

He laughed. Or rather bathed in the sight of your suffering.

Again.

All of a sudden you were thrown back to that moment, to that time when he had killed Vellioth the Martinet. He has stood on top of the stairs, right in front of a throne that was awfully similar to the one he had build in his palace.

Vellioth had laid on the stairs, his blood running down the naked marble like a waterfall of red. And Cazador's lips had been stained with the same shade.

Suddenly you remembered how it felt how your blood ran down your abdomen, across your legs to wet your feet.

But you hadn't died that day. Not entirely.