Chapter Text
A lone owl flew across the dark night over a dense forest, wings flapping as silently as a ghost. Only stopping at a house next to a lake, well kept and far removed from the closest civilization. She hopped through the open window urgently, with news to share. “I have word from the rats, he has been killed!” The owl announced slightly out of breath. “After 214 years, I can go out once again, the bastard is finally dead.” A figure in the far corner of a cluttered, dimly lit room, almost moaned in relief. She did not face the owl but leaned back in her chair, as the weight of the last two centuries finally began to lift from her chest. A feeling of numbing relief and freedom slowly flowed through her, so many possibilities, what to do first?
Baldur's Gate, a city being rebuilt, after the latest grand design attempt failed at the hands of a group of adventurers turned heroes. One of these adventurers still lingers around the shadows, mourning the loss of his ability to feel the warmth of the sun on his skin. It has been a little over a moon cycle since the brain's defeat, Cazadore, is finally dead and Astarion is finally, truly, honestly free, at night. However, now comes the question about what to do next? Astarion does not consider himself a planning type of person, his companions have always helped with that area of expertise, they had made multiple suggestions about what he could do with his time, traveling, taking leadership of the spawn in the underdark or perhaps being a hero type and taking down criminals, (and maybe having a meal in the process).
At the moment he stays below the Elfsong tavern, in the hidden room that leads to the sewers, it used to belong to the mindflayer that helped them along their journey, but now it’s all his. Living beneath a tavern has its perks, granted, he has had to make a few accommodations, like getting a bed roll, and anything to make it a bit more comfortable. He made a deal with the owners to come and go as he pleases, considering he saved the cook’s life from a serial killer, they let him use the basement stairs whenever he wishes, and the basement itself has never been more rat free due to his presence there, at least he doesn’t have to eat them now, foul beasts, and he gets an occasional bottle of wine for free. All has been going well, just a bit… boring, and lonely, he misses his companions, always someone around to talk to and joke with, though petting the lazy cats around the Elfsong helps a little.
Tonight was like any other, the tavern bustling with activity as Astarion made his way out of the wine cellar, granted, the crowds have been a bit slimmer due to the city being partially destroyed. The cook was working diligently even though it should have been past the dinner rush by now.
“Ahoy there elf, sorry to say but I don’ think I’ll have spare spirits for yeh tonight. This pretty lass at the bar drinks like an elephant and eats like one too, you’d think she’s never eatn’ food in her life!” The cook called over the flames.
“Oh I’ll make due, I do appreciate the sentiment though, perhaps tomorrow.” Astarion covered his slight disappointment with a smile.
“Don’ think so, she paid for a room upstairs, she paid real good to, might be in the city a few days.” The cook grumbled, clearly working hard.
“Paid well you say? Perhaps I should take a look at our new pretty patron.” His attention was grabbed by the mention of coin, she wouldn’t mind parting with a few, surly.
“Pretty is right, a lass like that could drive any man mad.” The cook almost mused.
Astarion walked out of the kitchen slipping between the tables, seamlessly integrating into the crowd. He then spotted her, a splash of light gold blonde hair at the bar, she wore a black cloak that went all the way to her calves, the hood was down but her face was still not visible from his current viewing angle. Her hair almost shimmered even in the candle light, like gold threads. She wore modest clothing, however her mannerisms and movements were like that of a noble, so elegant, even as she chugged down another mug of mead. She turned to the man next to her easily twice her size and claimed victory in her finishing first, all were in good spirits and they all started laughing, and exchanging bets of course. The man next to her got up and left having been bested for the night, an opportunity to slip in. He smoothly made his way to the empty seat before anyone else decided to take his prey.
“Hey Astarion, what will it be tonight?” The bartender asked, gathering all the empty glasses and mugs.
“Got any fine reds? I'm in the mood for something… rich.” He glanced over to her next to him, finishing off her plate of food, not a single crumb on her mouth or clothing, she was of small stature, shorter then himself, long wavy, gold hair caressed her face and well endowed figure. Soft lips, pale skin, but unlike his own it had almost a glow within it. A patron passed by stirring the air between them and he could smell her skin, a unique and delicious scent, almost like honey and apples. Despite all the alcohol, her scent alone made his mouth water, the ache in his stomach throbbing hungrily. The dress she had on was low cut exposing her neck and collar bone, skin supple and soft, it would take no effort to sink his fangs into her delicate neck, if her scent was any indication, her blood promised to be simply exquisite. Her eyes flickered over him as she took in this new neighbor, her expression not betraying any of her thoughts. “Two glasses.” Astarion added, not looking away from her.
“My, paying for a lady's drink, classic.” She smiled slyly at him, amused.
“Some things are classics for a reason.” He said back, matching her amusement. “I'd imagine someone of your manner would enjoy something a bit more extraordinary.” He leaned in a bit closer to her as he poured her a glass, he could almost taste her blood from this distance. She looked him in the eyes, her expression still playfully amused, she did not falter, even when he brushed his hand against hers handing her the glass. Was she simply oblivious to his advance or just not impressed? Most would have shown some sort of reaction from that.
She looked at the glass, and tapped the brim with her finger nail twice lightly. Satisfied, she raised her glass to him, in a toasting gesture.
“To the death of our enemies.” she tapped her glass against his. Surprised by her words he returned the gesture.
“To freedom.” He said back, and they both drank their respective glasses. He didn't even think about what he said when it just came out, as if in mutual understanding.
“So, what brings you over to pay for this lady’s drink?” she asked, cocking her head a bit, almost as if she was inviting him to look at her neck.
That damn cook was right, a woman like this could drive a man, or vampire mad. Astarion thought to himself, almost frustrated, was she teasing him on purpose?
“I figured you would be getting bored of the common riff raff around here, perhaps you'd like to continue sharing a drink in a quieter place upstairs, perhaps in a more… intimate setting?” He asked in a low, sultry voice, taking her glass and the bottle.
“I think I'll take you up on that offer. Keep me company tonight won't you?” Her eyes roamed over his chest for a moment then a bit lower before meeting his eyes again. She supported her head with her hand, then she lightly bit her second finger, a gesture rather subtle to anyone else but the ache in his belly only grew. “After all, I enjoy my partners like I enjoy my wine bottles, pretty, and empty by the end of the night.” She said in her own low voice, and returned his sultry smile. A different ache now began to stir in him as his breath almost caught in his chest, a lustful desire he had not felt in a long time, he was starting to have trouble controlling himself and his own body's reactions, whatever blood he had in his body made its way to his cheeks and nether regions, in excitement and anticipation. Was his body always this reactive? Or is it just something about her? Her company was unusually comfortable, perhaps it was because he was doing this out of his own free will rather than being forced to do so.
“Then shall we?” he got up from the bar stool, placing the coin he owed on the bar as he went, he offered her his open hand to take her upstairs. She took his open hand and allowed him to lead her to her rented room. Once inside he closed the door behind him, they both knew what they were there to do after all. However, now being separated from the rest of the patrons at the tavern, her sweet scent was all over this room, almost intoxicating on its own. He could hear her heartbeat, a steady rhythm, he wanted to make it race. He put the glasses and bottle down on a nearby dresser, as he watched her slip her cloak off and throw it onto a chair, her back to him.
She's rather trusting, such a sheltered young noble lady, prime to take advantage of.
He came up close behind her, gently caressing her shoulders, she allowed him to pull her closer, her back up against his chest, as his lips brushed along her right ear. He could feel her shiver slightly, he softly kissed down her neck as he began to pull up her dress, her blood was so close, just a thin barrier of skin separated them, but he had to be patient, tire her out then he could have his drink. As hungry as he was, his sexual desire quickly began overcoming his desire to feed.
“I am going to devour you.” he whispered low in her ear, scarlet eyes gleaming with desire, undoing the ties on her dress, it fluttered to the floor with the last one being undone.
He spun her around in one smooth movement, pinning her against the bed. He took off his shirt in turn and trousers, before giving her a light push to lay on the bed, her legs hanging off the side. She gave him a playful look as she wrapped one of her legs around his waist pulling him closer, her heart going ever faster, fluttering with excitement. He leaned down over her, supporting himself with both arms on either side of her, Unfortunately, his past feelings of disgust and loathing decided to rear their ugly head at that moment as he gazed down on her, his mind began to wander a bit as he kissed her lips tenderly, perhaps it was the glazed over look in his eyes or his movements becoming those he had practiced so many times before but she picked up on his state of mind somehow. She held his face between her hands caressing it.
“We don’t have to do this if you don't want to.” She said, smiling softly. This caught his attention and snapped him out of his trance, his eyes focused again. “Tell you what, you can have as much of my blood as you want, and then we can just cuddle afterwards.” she suggested lightly pulling a corner of his mouth to reveal one of his fangs. He stared at her wide eyed for a moment, letting her words sink in, she knew the whole time, his mind clearing a bit.
“You would be alright with that? Why would you do that for me? Seems you would be getting the short end of the deal.” he asked, baffled.
“Having two happily satisfied people is better than one, especially on nights of celebration.” She wove her fingers through his white curls gently. “Keeping me company can mean many things, it has been a long time since I have been so close to someone, I would be satisfied just being next to you in your arms.”
The shock now wearing off, the ache in his stomach made itself known, now in full force without the sexual desire to distract him.
“Very well, just don't regret it later.” He smirked, positively parched.
He swiftly bit down into her neck with near desperation, and began to drink greedily, however it was as if her blood was never ending, filling his void, his soul, the deliciously sweet taste even better than he imagined, ‘more I want more!’ His body screamed. Her blood was so rich and dense as if he was drinking nothing but dirty water his whole existence. Even humanoid blood was nothing compared to this, a true delicacy, he even let out a satisfied moan when he was positively stuffed, couldn't take in another drop.
He made an attempt to stand up however he was rather unsteady on his feet, his vision swaying from side to side, his cheeks and ears flushed scarlet, so saturated with blood, he was clearly heavily drunk, with a big grin on his face. He walked to her side and picked her up to move her to the middle of the bed, nearly stumbling over his own feet in the process.
“Careful, don't hurt yourself.” She teased lightly, trying not to laugh.
“I- I’m fine darling,” he grinned wider “your ff- far lighter then you look.” he slurred, almost throwing her into the middle of the bed. “And now we cuddle as prooomisssed.” Any disgust or self loathing was gone, replaced with joy and euphoria. He crawled up next to her cradling her in his arms holding her as if she was a pillow. She in turn wrapped her arm around him, as the other was stuck beneath him, however as soon as her fingertips touched the uneven skin on his back, she got flashes of the horrors he had been put through, torture, neglect, pain and His face, Cazadore, the enemies' grave she came to piss on. She flinched slightly with the onslaught of information, luckily he was too far gone to notice. This scar on his back linked him to 7,000 other souls, suffering still, due to that bastard.
Seems I have something to do here other than pissing on graves, I have a way to spite him even in death. She thought to herself as she cast a powerful sleep spell on him, and laid him down, tucking him in. He started softly snoring as she picked up her belongings and disappeared into the night.