Her Pretty Little Throat : An Ascended Astarion Fan Fiction

Amara

It's much easier to avoid Astarion than I had anticipated.

Over the last few days I have been spending my time divided between my room, the kitchen and the dining room. I take whatever meals I can with Vesra and do my best to help her prepare for tonight's event, in spite of her adamant protests. I want to help her even if I'm just bringing in small crates of candle sticks from the basement or cleaning the crystal and checking each piece for cracks.

Keeping my hands occupied doesn't stop me from holding my breath every time I've see a hint of silver hair out of the corner of my eye, only to release it a moment later when I see Drystan. The drow has been shadowing me for the last couple days, so much so that I've taken upon myself to attempt to strike up a conversation whenever he's around. Usually to no avail, but he does seem to be slowly warming up to me. Without a doubt I have Vesra to thank for that.

Through everything Astarion hasn't strayed far from my thoughts and I'm ready to apologize. The anger I harbored towards our situation quickly died in my chest when I felt that door lock behind me. I feel ill at the thought that I put another wall between us without intending to. With all my regrets I don't know what's keeping me from seeking him out. Is it the fear of being so unpracticed when it comes to trusting someone that I have finally pushed him away, the gnawing anticipation that I could be rejected. That I could lose the one thing I had only just realized I wanted.

I have done nothing but refuse his olive branches so far. One foot always firmly out the door, but to go where? What kind of a life is there for me out in Baldur's Gate? Will I go back to the streets? Find King again and beg for another chance? Here, I am not a prisoner and given every freedom other than sunlight. I firmly believe my heart that if I asked Astarion, he would let me go.

There's a knock at the door and I can immediately tell it's Vesra. I have stopped hoping that Astarion might visit me again, I am certain that the vampire is as prideful as I am if not more. I am not a vulnerability that he wants to make known.

I feel the satisfying hum of magic rumble against my chest as I grip the latch and pull.

"Good evening, Miss." Vesra gives me a bright smile as she stands with a bundle of dark clothing in her arms.

"I told you to stop calling me miss." I say, my tone teasing. "I was just about to go find you. I thought we would take an early dinner together and hide out in the kitchen. Maybe sample a bit of the wine." My eyes catch the movement behind her. Every time I step out into the palace there are more faces than last. Servants that I don't recognize, but still give me a cheery smile each time I pass them. There are also more spawn than I could imagine being in one place, though they don't pay me any attention. At times it feels like they skitter away as soon as they see me coming.

"And miss the party tonight? I won't hear of it."

She passes me and places the clothes on my bed, I shut the door behind her.

"Besides, you're going to have to tell me what it's like to be a princess." She smiles.

Her enthusiasm is contagious and I can't help but smile back at her.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, my eyes going to the new clothing, "This isn't necessary. I'm sure I have something more than acceptable."

"The Lord commissioned a gown for you to wear tonight." Vesra says, "He has also instructed me to dress you and make sure that you feel your best." She stares at me for a moment, a single claw-tipped finger tapping on her chin. "Yes, I think I know exactly what to do. Come, let us get you out of those clothes."

"Vesra, I can dress myself and do my own hair." I begin to say.

She clicks her tongue, "Amara, this is the first opportunity I have had in years to do someone's hair other than my own. You will not take this from me."