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the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 5 months ago

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Love Bites

Love Bites, Chapter 6 // Love Bites {Masterlist}

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x fem!vampire spawn!elf!Tav/reader

Summary: Astarion remembers you, but it's already too late. He's bedded you and remembered the love and life you had together, two hundred years ago, and now he has to make a choice. Does he sacrifice himself, or does he sacrifice you?

Word Count: 9,455

Warnings: 18+, last night alive vibes, Astarion's memory gaps, being gentle with each other, Astarion anticipates being used but is not, vampire bite, mentions of Astarion's sexual abuse (non-con oral), therapeutic talking, reader is protective of Astarion, Astarion's bad at vocalizing his emotions, love confessions, anxiety, putting each other in danger

18+ Warnings: consensual sex, explicit smut, touching, easing into intimacy, oral (m & f receiving), masturbation (m), vaginal sex, consent & check-ins, loving sex, clit stimulation, multiple orgasms, creampie, cum eating, aftercare

Note: Astarion does talk at length about the sexual abuse he's been through (not a lot of it is detailed), so please take care of yourselves as usual and don't read if you're not comfortable!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Astarion clung to your arm the entire walk back to your house. You leaned into him, at first surprised by the lack of body heat but seeming to enjoy his grip on you nonetheless. Instinctively, you put your arm through his and rested your head against his shoulder. He hesitantly placed a soft kiss on the top of your head and you hummed happily.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered to him.

Astarion hesitated, wanting to return the sentiment but unsure if he should; he had spent the past two hundred years—or most of them, at least—not remembering you. But when you looked up at him with a soft smile, the words tumbled out, an absolute necessity to say, “I missed you, too. Even if I didn’t know it, I…I did.”

You smiled at him, soft and gentle, like you knew exactly what he was referring to, like you knew he had felt a hollow absence for all these years he hadn’t realized was there until you filled it again.

There was a glint in your eye that Astarion was pleased to recognize. He bent just enough to let you kiss his cheek. The two of you both smiled the minute your lips touched his skin.

You gave directions as the two of you walked, telling him when to turn and which way, until you came to a stop at a door. It was illuminated by a golden lamp, spilling over its lovely emerald green paint. The color was like a burst of life against Astarion’s eyes, vibrant against the blacks and greys of his Darkvision.

The door did not hold the same familiarity as you did. He glanced at you as you unlooped your arms and slid a key into the lock. “Is this…where we lived?”

“No,” you said, glancing back at him. “Your parents still live in that house. Our bedroom’s untouched, though. The bed still unmade, curtains still closed… It’s as it was when you left for work that morning.”

Pain split through his heart. “My parents are still alive?” You stopped, almost shocked, and turned to him with your mouth slightly open. Before you could speak, he barreled on, “They still live in the same house?”

You glanced up at the sky, likely trying to gauge how much time you had left. You pushed the door open and gently guided him inside as you answered, “Yes. They found it too painful to leave. Your… Your mother said leaving it would feel like selling all that was left of you to a stranger.” You were quiet for a moment. You began lighting the wicks of candles, revealing a kitchen. “I still go back sometimes. To sit in our room. Every so often I sit on the roof like we used to. And, uh…your parents don’t know this, but I’ve been slowly sneaking away pieces of your clothes. It’s…comforting to have them near me, even if I’m terrified that by wearing them too long I’ll lose your scent.”

Astarion felt like he’d been struck by lightning. His family was alive. His family was alive, had been these past two hundred years, and they still loved him. “My mother…” he whispered, tears gathering in his eyes.

You paused in your lighting. “Asty? Are you alright?”

His lower lip trembled. “I… I don’t know. I didn’t know they were still… Do they miss me?”

You came over to him and wrapped your arms around him. “They miss you very much, darling. There hasn’t been a day when your mother has not spoken of you, or a day that your father has not stared at your painting.” You looked up at him. “There has not been a day where any of us do not wish to change what happened that day. To prevent you from going to work. To get you home faster. To convince you to take a different route home. Anything to keep you alive and with us.”

I’m still loved. They love me.

He bit his lower lip. “I wish I could see them again.”

“Perhaps one day you will,” you said. “Perhaps we’ll find a way out.”

Astarion smiled bitterly. “Cazador will take that optimism from you.”

You studied him for a moment, clearly wanting to argue. But instead you just gave him your hand and whispered to him, “Come with me, love.”

A nervousness filled his chest. “I don’t want to do this to you… I don’t want to lose you.”

You cupped his cheeks and pressed your forehead together. Your thumbs smoothing over his cheeks comforted him in a way he never remembered feeling before—but surely you must have done this a thousand times, with the practiced way you touched him. “You aren’t losing me. And you aren’t the one hurting me, darling. It’s your master who has done this to us both.”

Astarion shuddered. “Don’t speak of him. Not here. Not when we’re about to…” He bit his lip. “Not when I can have you again.”

You nodded and kissed his forehead. He leaned into it, some of the tension in his shoulders draining away. “I won’t.” You began walking him out of the kitchen, leading him up a set of stairs. “This way, love.”

Nervous in a way he didn’t ever remember being, Astarion followed you up the stairs. He glanced around the humble dwelling you had made your home—covered in paintings and tapestries and knickknacks that made it homey and welcoming—safe. It felt lived in, contrary to many of the homes of nobility he had found himself in time and time again. It wasn’t something he would have ever designed himself, at least not as he was now, but he liked it anyway.

The door to your bedroom was open. It was a cozy, open room that felt familiar enough for him to pause at the threshold.

You noticed. “I may have designed it to be similar to our old bedroom. It was comforting.”

Astarion’s eyes scanned the room: a large bed in the middle, covered in soft blankets and piled with pillows, a circular rug underneath it, a mirror on the wall next to your wardrobe. Your desk was covered with paints and powders and pieces of jewelry similar to what you wore now.

“I like it,” he said quietly. “I… We lived in a place like this?”

You nodded, sitting in the chair at your desk. He watched you take off your jewelry and take your hair down. “Our bedroom had a different color scheme and it was a little bit bigger. We had a washroom connected to it and two wardrobes—yours was bigger than mine. And we had a balcony we used to sit on late at night. But we shared a desk and I wore your clothes more often than I wore mine.” You smiled at him. “You used to tease me that if you couldn’t find one of your shirts, it was either in my wardrobe or on my body.”

You stood and closed the curtains of the two windows that let moonlight stream into the room. Darkness fell for a moment and Astarion watched your dim figure move to one side of the bed. You struck a match and an oil lamp flared to life.

“Simpler than magic,” you explained. Then the two of you stared at each other.

Astarion didn’t know where to start. He knew how to manipulate his victims into bed with him nearly every night. He knew what to say, how to move, when to smile, when to make the approach. But with you in front of him, suddenly all his best tricks seemed useless.

You cocked your head to the side, noticing his hesitation. “Astarion?”

“I don’t know where to start,” he whispered.

“Then let me?” you suggested. He nodded.

You removed your apron and draped it over the back of the chair. You reached around behind you and loosened the strings of your corset, slipping it off after a moment. It wasn’t exactly graceful, but the movement still made Astarion’s throat tighten. Somehow, your movements—unpracticed for two hundred years—were more alluring than the nobles Cazador made him bed or the unfortunate virgins tripping over themselves to have him.

It’s because it’s you, he knew. You weren’t just alluring—you were comforting. His body was strangely present, strangely here, as you undressed for him.

You pulled off your skirt and left yourself in a poet shirt similar to the one Astarion himself had worn until it fell apart and then sewn back together time and time again. You glanced up at him for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. Astarion nodded eagerly, taking a step closer to you. So you pulled the shirt up over your head and stood before him.

Your undergarments were made of delicate lace. Automatically, Astarion reached out to touch them—touch you—then hesitated, looking into your eyes, suddenly afraid his instinct had been wrong.

But you only stepped forward and guided his hand to the fabric covering your chest. His touch seemed to arrest you for a moment before you stuttered out, “You gave them to me. The set was an anniversary gift. Somehow I knew when I dressed this morning I wanted this piece of you close to me.”

Warmth bloomed in the pit of his stomach—arousal, actual arousal, not the response he had forced himself to have when his victims got naked. He felt himself stir in his leathers.

Astarion let his fingers trail over the edge of the lace. Your eyes fluttered closed, your breaths coming in heaves. “Well, I…had good taste.”

You touched his chest, fingers trailing over the gold embroidery of his doublet. “You still do, darling.” You let out a heavy, pleased sigh. “Oh, gods, Astarion, please. Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” he breathed desperately, leaning into you. “Yes.”

You stood on your tiptoes; he bent down. As your lips touched, his arms looped around your waist and settled there, holding you against him. Your lips were soft, gentle, welcoming. You let him take the next step instead of forcing it. It was a kindness he wasn’t sure you knew was a kindness.

He sucked your lower lip between his. You whined softly and then tried to pull away, clearly embarrassed by your need for him, but it brought a smile to his face. He chased your lips and brought one hand to rest between your shoulder blades, guiding you back to him. He kissed you again, softly at first, then licked your lip, asking for more. You obliged him with a slight smile of your own.

Your tongues slid together, both of you careful of his fangs. After all these years, Astarion had gotten good at hiding them, even during a kiss—but he didn’t feel the need to hide them from you, only keep your tongue away from them.

One of your hands slid into his hair. He tensed momentarily, bracing for an unrelenting tug, but you only scratched his scalp with your nails. He relaxed against you, falling deeper into the kiss.

When you parted, it was slow, both of you reluctant to part from each other. Your chest was heaving, your breasts straining pleasantly against the delicate lace. Astarion’s eyes dropped to the sight, mesmerized for several moments. Then he looked back up at you with a smile on your face.

“I missed you,” you breathed. “I’ve missed that.” You toyed with his collar absentmindedly. But your eyes were fixed on his, clear and resolute, some concern clouding your blown pupils. “Are you alright?”

He nodded. “More than alright. You… You’re so gentle with me.”

“Is that what you want?”

Quickly, he nodded again, almost desperate this time. He didn’t really want to explain the sudden tears that rushed to his eyes, but judging from the heartbreak he saw in yours, you had guessed his reasoning.

“Then gentle we will be,” you promised. “Soft. Sweet. Slow. Like our old mornings.” Your fingers found the clasps of his doublet. “May I…?”

“You may,” he said, unbearably happy that you had asked. The feeling grew stronger as you carefully undid each clasp, rather than ripping them apart so fast and so hard that he had to fix them when the night was over. He reached up to help you undress him.

You took the time to ask him before you removed any clothes. You took the time to admire him as skin was revealed. You took the time to kiss him when he hesitantly asked for it. You took the time to wait when you saw his uncertainty, holding him and stroking his hair.

Is this what it feels like to be loved?

When Astarion was left standing in only his boxers, you gently led him to the bed. You hooked your fingers into his waistband and met his eyes. Before you could even ask, he whispered, “Pull them off.”

You smiled at him and did so, your touch still light. You spared his half-hard cock only a glance as you stood back up and met his gaze. Astarion could still see the want in your eyes. But instead of doing what you wanted with him, you turned and said over your shoulder, “Would you like to take mine off?”

“Yes,” he whispered, lifting his hands to undo the clasps of your bra. He slipped the straps off your shoulders after you turned back around to him. He let himself admire your breasts as they were exposed before he dropped his hands to your hips and removed your panties in one graceful move that seemed to surprise you.

“You were always good, but you’re better at this than I remembered,” you said by way of explanation, your cheeks turning pink. “You were always so shy when you undressed me, no matter how many times you had been inside me.”

For some reason, he felt guilty. “I’m sorry I changed.”

You shook your head, cupping his cheek. “Don’t apologize. Not for that. We’ve all changed. We would have changed whether you had died or not.” Your gaze drifted back down his body appreciatively, then to his cock.

Skin crawling with self-consciousness, familiar from times having to improvise to explain away the struggle to get hard (especially without being able to explain how little blood he actually had in his body), but stronger now that it was you looking at the weakness that took away from the one thing he was good for, Astarion explained, truthfully for the first time, “I can’t get hard right away, not without blood and…and he starves us. Once we actually start, I can do more, but—”

You put your finger to his lips and lay on the bed. “Will it hurt?”

Astarion blinked at you. “What?”

“Your bite. Will it hurt?”

For a moment, it didn’t process what you meant. Then— “You want me to feed from you?”

You nodded. “I’m more than willing to work you up myself if you’d prefer, but…I’ll admit I’m curious. Besides…you finally have someone who knows what you are and loves you anyway. Bite me. Feed the only time you can.”

Astarion stepped closer to the bed, his hunger rearing its head. “Are you sure you want me to?”

You nodded and gestured him closer to you and, after a single moment’s deliberation that ended with the sole thought of, Fuck it!, Astarion crawled over you. You smiled up at him with a fond amazement. He grinned. “You’ve seen this view before, haven’t you?”

“Often,” you said. “I dreamt of this nearly every night. It’s almost hard to believe you’re right here… I half-suspect I’ll wake up in the morning and none of this will have happened.”

Astarion bent and began peppering your neck with soft kisses. Your blood smelled sweet, pumping through your veins with strength. “Believe me, darling, this is very, very real…”

You craned your neck, exposing the column of your throat to him. Astarion pressed his nose to your pulse point and breathed in deeply. He moaned, his whole body shuddering. You put your hand back in his hair, scratching softly. “Please…” you whispered, and all of Astarion’s restraint snapped.

He drew back enough to bare his fangs and sink them into your throat. You gasped sharply. He would have asked if you were alright if your blood did not suddenly fill his mouth, sweet and tangy and heavy all at once. He swallowed and instantly felt the difference. Bugs and rats were enough to keep him functional, surviving—this was enough to let him live.

The next few pulls of blood had you whimpering pleasantly and warmth filling his body. Strength returned to his muscles with every mouthful and his chest began to move with the illusion of breathing. He became aware of the throbbing need in his cock and began grinding on your thigh. Your responding gasp quickly became a moan and your arms tightened around him.

Somehow, Astarion knew the exact moment that you had become equals again; he had taken half your blood and any more would kill you. In fact, any more and he would be too drunk on it to stop himself from killing you.

Drain her. Drink her dry and go back to Cazador with enough strength to escape him.

The thought terrified him. He pulled away from you quickly, your blood dripping down his chin and onto your chest. He licked the open wounds of your neck clean of blood before he sat back and stared down at you.

You were paler than you had been when he started, but your eyes fluttered open and you reached up weakly to wipe the thin trail of blood away from the corner of his mouth. You offered him your thumb and he sucked it into his mouth without thinking, licking the blood from your skin.

“Are you okay?” he asked, brushing a hand through your hair.

You nodded. “A little woozy, but I’ll live.”

Astarion decided not to tell you how close you had come to not living. “What did it feel like?”

You paused, thinking. Eventually, you said, “Like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It was…intimate. Magical. It was ecstasy in a form I’ve never felt before. Pain that turned into pleasure. I felt…connected with you more wholly than ever before. We always said we were one when we had sex, but that…that was being one.” You met his gaze again and breathed out one word: “Wonderful.”

Astarion couldn’t help it; he kissed you needily, pressing his entire body to yours. You responded willingly, even when the kiss turned into a tight hug that allowed him to hide his face in your shoulder so you wouldn’t see his tears.

Eventually, you tapped his shoulder. “Sit on the edge of the bed, darling.”

A tingle of anticipation raced up Astarion’s spine—clearly his body remembered what you were going to do, even if he did not. You slid to your knees and spread his legs apart far enough to get between them. He tried to hide his shock; you wanted to pleasure him? Time and time he had been forced onto his knees and made to take a cock in his mouth, but he couldn’t remember the last time someone had done it for him… In fact, you were probably the last person to have done it, years and years ago.

“Darling, you don’t have to—”

You looked up at him. “Do you want me to?”

His chest tightened. “Yes,” he whispered.

You smiled slightly. “Then let me pleasure you, Asty.”

“Okay,” he breathed, his chest heaving with phantom breaths as he watched you lean in. You kissed the base of his cock and a quiet whine escaped him. You dragged your tongue up his length and kissed his tip before you took him into your mouth. He threw his head back, groaning. His eyes fluttered as you sucked gently, licking the underside of his cock every so often. Occasionally you popped off of him to kiss up and down his length and the sensitive area around it.

“Look at me,” you breathed. He did as you asked and you went back down on him, holding eye contact with him. He whimpered and bit his lower lip, muffling the sound. You made a face. “Let me hear you, Astarion.”

His answer was a whine as you licked a stripe along the underside of him. He brought his hand to your head and held you as you licked and kissed him. It didn’t take long for him to give into the pleasure; he began to mumble in Elvish to you until the words couldn’t roll off his tongue anymore and began coming out as moans, both low- and high-pitched. Some part of Astarion was deeply embarrassed by his sounds—but he knew now if he tried to hide them, you’d stop, and, gods above, that was the last thing he wanted. But you didn’t let up again and before he could stop himself or even warn you, he was cumming down your throat.

And you let him. You pulled off of him only when you were sure he was spent. He flopped onto his back, panting heavily. A thrill went up his spine as he watched you swallow his spend, crawling up on his body to join him on the bed.

“That was… Hells, that was good,” he groaned as you laid next to him, getting perfectly cozy against his blood-warmed body. “How did you…?”

“You taught me,” you reminded him with a laugh. “How else did you think I knew exactly what you liked?”

“You could just have really good instincts,” he said, rolling onto his side to kiss you. He cradled you in his arms, holding you as tightly against his body as he could. You melted into his hug readily.

You pulled away for a moment and just stared at him, your eyes peering into his like you could see his soul. A little nervous, Astarion just watched you, taking in the way your eyes roamed over his face and how your lips easily came up into a happy, satisfied smile.

“What?” he whispered when the love on your face was almost too much to bear.

“Nothing,” you said. Then you shook your head. “Well, it’s not nothing. I…never thought I’d see your face again. Not really, not outside of my dreams. So I’m just… I’m glad to have you back.” You reached up and trailed your fingers across his cheekbone. He leaned into your touch.

Slowly, Astarion began to return the favor, running his fingers across your body. He watched the way you shuddered beneath his touch, paid attention to when you giggled, noticed when your eyes fluttered shut and your body relaxed. He felt like he was learning how you ticked, but there was something about every movement you made that was almost painfully familiar. He had done this to you before, likely thousands of times, and had enjoyed squeezing your hips in his hands and groping your breasts and kissing every available inch of your skin.

“How many times?” he breathed against your sternum, pausing as he kissed down your body. You hummed and he clarified: “How many times did we do this?”

Your eyes were closed, your face the picture of contentment. “You mean the sex or the touching?”

“Touching.”

“Every night,” you answered. “Every night before we went to bed, whether we were naked or not, whether we had sex or not, we would do this. We’d cuddle and kiss and caress each other until one of us fell into trance or sleep, whatever we decided to do that night.”

“Gods,” he whispered. “I… I didn’t realize it, but I missed it. I think.”

You hesitated for a moment. Then you whispered, “I thought you did this every night.”

“Almost every night,” he corrected. “And…never like this. Never soft. Never gentle. Never…loving. It’s always rough and demanding, brutal.” He glanced at you, expecting criticism, but your face was open. There wasn’t a hint of jealousy that he slept with other people, nor anger that he was complaining about getting laid nightly when you had spent the years alone. So he continued. “I wake up sore and sometimes bleeding in places I didn’t know I could bleed from.”

You curled your arms around him protectively. “Oh, Asty… Love, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said quickly.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t feel bad for you,” you insisted.

Disagreement coiled in Astarion’s belly, but he didn’t voice it, instead laying his head against your chest. He sighed happily when you began to scratch your fingers through his scalp. He remained like that for a few minutes before the words began to tumble out of him, slowly at first, then gaining momentum and—to his surprise—anger.

“It’s not always…random people from taverns. Sometimes he’ll…assign me victims. I’ll be sent to them. Nobles, mostly, who he wants for his thralls. Sometimes he sends them back out into the world to do his bidding, not keeping them the way he keeps me or my siblings, or draining them into dry, mummified corpses like most of the people I bring back for him. But if I don’t bring them back in the single night he gives me— Well. I’d be scarred horribly if vampires didn’t heal quickly, and even then, I don’t heal as quickly as I should so sometimes I go out the next night still wrapped in dirty cloth for bandages, bleeding through them, expected to bring home yet another meal.”

Astarion paused long enough for you to have a quick interjection. “You have siblings?”

“Of a sort. There are six others. Six spawn he made to do his bidding.”

“And are you all expected to…fetch your victims the same way?”

Astarion shook his head. “No. Yousen’s a gnome, for gods’ sake, who’s going to sleep with a gnome and not a handsome creature such as myself?”

You rolled your eyes. “There are plenty of people who find gnomes attractive, even if you don’t,” you chastised.

He sighed. “But you get my point. He made his spawn from people with…different talents, so to speak, to bring in his meals. But if we fail, we all get treated the same way. Beaten. Bitten. Used. He…he does it to me more than the others. I’m his favorite to torture.”

“You mentioned that,” you murmured, touching his ear gently. His cock twitched with pleasure and he gasped. You froze. “Do you want me to stop?”

Hesitantly, he nodded. “Just— Just for a moment…please.”

Immediately, before he had even finished speaking, you removed your hand from his ear. “Alright.”

Surprise flooded his body. No one had ever listened to him before. No one had ever taken his ‘no’ to be a no. They always kept doing what hurt him, what he hated, what made his skin crawl with disgust and hate and fear.

But you…listened. You more than listened, you stopped.

“Thank you,” he breathed. “It’s just— I…I’m not quite ready to do anything else yet. There’s so much I want to say because I’ve never been able to before and I don’t… I don’t want to ruin the moment, but…”

“But trying to push through will ruin it anyway for you,” you said, understanding him immediately. “That’s alright. Just keep talking, my love, and I will listen to everything.”

Oh, gods above, you understood him. Astarion felt the strong urge to cry until he had no tears left, all out of relief. Instead, he kept talking.

“He hosts grand, lavish parties from time to time. On those nights, we spawn are forced to pose as his…servants. It’s almost a relief to have a break, but then…then there’s the afterparties. And I’m his entertainment at the afterparties. They’re more…orgies than parties by then and I’m at the center of it all, dressed however he wants me for the night, which is sometimes nothing. He lets the partygoers use me however they wish. He orders them to, in fact. It hurts and hurts and hurts until it suddenly doesn’t because I can’t feel anything anymore.” His tears dripped onto your skin. You cooed softly, trying to comfort him, but you said nothing to stop him, so he kept going. “It’s not just the parties, either. It’s… Well, it’s like this. I’m his favorite to torture, and I’m his favorite to…to use.”

You made a sound of both sympathy and rage. “Asty…”

Your whisper was lost in his continued tirade. “Whenever he wants, I’m there and I’m meant to do whatever he wants me to do and let him do everything he can to me. The others all know. They know I’m Cazador’s plaything and they think I get…special treatment for it. They don’t see how much it hurts, they don’t see that I suffer every night, because I don’t suffer like they do. No, no, I get to have sex! I get one of life’s simple pleasures while he beats them! So how is it fair that I complain?” Astarion looked up at you, his eyes shining with tears. “How is it fair that I complain?”

“It’s not your fault,” you said firmly. “It’s not. Darling, none of this is on you. Your master is…a leech. Yes, he’s a leech, taking what does not belong to him, forcing misery upon you. Astarion, please listen to me, honey. I mean it. This is not your fault. He is sowing dissent amongst all of you on purpose because it is the only way he can control you. If you all were to band together—”

“We’re his thralls, he can control us anyway,” Astarion snapped. “Anything he wants us to do, we do. It’s why I haven’t been able to stop him from—” He fell silent and buried his face in your chest, an unreasonable shame burrowing in his chest. He knew it was unreasonable; he knew you were at least somewhat right. He had no control over his life, and yet… The shame was there anyway. “Poetry. That’s what he said he carved into me. That’s the scar on my back.”

Automatically, your hand drifted from his hair to his shoulder. Before touching the scar you asked, “Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes. It hurt then, when he had to correct his mistakes because I couldn’t keep still enough.”

“Can I touch it?”

He nodded slowly and braced himself. But your touch was gentle and soothing. Your fingers ghosted across the raised marks and you peeked over his shoulder at it.

“It’s written in Infernal,” you murmured. “Last I checked, that’s not exactly the language of poets.”

Astarion raised his head. “Really? I…I didn’t know. What does it say?”

You shrugged. “I can recognize it, but I can’t read it.”

Astarion sighed and fell back against your chest.

“What do you want to do?” you whispered to him.

“Hold me,” he breathed.

So you wrapped your arms around him and held him tightly to your body, his head against your chest, his own arms coming around your waist. You held each other in silence for quite a while. Your hand began to scratch his scalp and a gentle sound that was close to a purr escaped him. After a few moments, your hand went back to his ear. When he didn’t protest, you began rubbing his ear lightly.

A soft moan escaped Astarion’s lips. He looked up at you, his hips already beginning to grind into the mattress.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” you reminded him. “You are more than just sex.”

“I want to,” he whispered, the statement true for the first time in nearly two centuries. “It’s… It’s you, of course I want to.”

You whimpered quietly at the words and pressed a tiny kiss to his forehead. “Only if you’re sure, honey.”

“I’m sure,” he promised.

It didn’t take long for the heat in his body to rebuild. You caressed every sensitive spot on his body with care and intimate knowledge of who he was: his ears, the nape of his neck, his Adonis belt, his nipples. You touched him with a reverence that felt almost like worship and made his entire body tremble with need. You suckled on his nipples until he moaned loudly and ripped himself away from you to do the same to you.

Very quickly you learned to give him control. He hovered above you, sucking hickies into your neck and chest, happily leaving little bites on your tits as he went.

“You can draw blood,” you whispered to him in the middle of a bite and he moaned delightedly, letting his fangs scratch your skin until you bled and licking up the crimson droplets. He met your gaze as he let his tongue linger on a deeper cut and found you looking down at him fondly, toying with one of his curls between your fingers.

Astarion adjusted to slip a hand between your bodies. He cupped your exposed cunt and grinned at the sight of your head going back, exposing the column of your throat to him.

“I’ve barely touched you, darling,” he teased.

“And I’ve waited two hundred years for this,” you reminded him. “Any touch is enough, but, hells, please put your fingers inside of me.”

“Needy,” he joked, but did as you asked, spreading your pussy to drag his fingers up your slit. He placed his slick fingers on your clit and began to rub gentle circles. You gasped, your body arching up into his. He chuckled and moved up to kiss you sweetly. His tongue against yours was a balm to the both of you; you calmed down enough to wrap your arms around his shoulders and he felt any lingering doubts slip away.

You were his. You had always been his. You were not just another victim, you were the woman he loved, the woman he had been so devoted to that he was going to marry you. You were not using him like the others.

You seemed to read his thoughts and filled in the last possibility, murmuring against his soft lips, “I love you, Astarion.”

He moaned into your mouth. A single tear slipped past his closed eyelid and fell on your cheek.

“I love you,” you whispered again. “You don’t have to say it back. I just want you to know.”

Astarion slipped two fingers into you, curling them deep inside you. You arched into him again, moaning obscenely. He giggled again; if just two fingers could make you this happy, what would you do when you felt his cock inside you again?

He pumped his fingers slowly until your hips bucked into his hand, wordlessly asking for more. He picked up the pace until you began panting. He watched you grow closer and closer to the edge, your body writhing, your eyebrows pinching together, your mouth falling open to let out delicious moans. He was almost tempted to just let you finish on his fingers, but…

Gods, he wanted to taste you.

He pulled his fingers out of you. You whined his name, pitifully, already begging, already asking, “Why did you stop?”

Astarion’s answer was not verbal. Grinning, he dropped to his knees quickly and shuffled closer to the edge of the bed. He yanked you to the edge, letting your legs dangle over his shoulders, and leaned in. You held eye contact as he pressed a kiss to your clit. Then a second. Then a third. By the time he got to the fourth kiss and latched his lips around your sensitive nub, your eyes were rolling into the back of your head.

“Astarion,” you moaned, your hand twisting into his hair but not pulling.

He began to suck gently, letting the pressure drive you wild. He licked your clit slowly, lavishing attention on it with his tongue, feeling you grow very, very wet against his chin. He dropped a little lower to tongue at your entrance, the taste of your arousal pulling a moan from deep in his chest. You gasped at the vibration, your hips rutting against his face. He chuckled into you and slid his tongue inside you, lapping at your cunt. You were delicious in ways he hadn’t thought possible. He knew that his heightened senses meant that he could smell every bit of your arousal, every emotion inside of you, every liquid in your body—but he had not expected your lust to be infused with your love for him.

It was a new feeling, a new taste. He liked it.

Astarion reached up and coated his hand in your dripping arousal. Then he wrapped his hand around his cock and began stroking slowly, allowing himself to enjoy it, feeling the heady rush of blood to completely harden his cock. His hips rocked gently, the pace increasing when he glanced up at you and found you smiling as you panted, your breasts heaving.

He released himself to bring his hand back up to your cunt. He sunk his fingers into your wet entrance and returned to sucking on your clit. You cried out, your hips bucking, and he grinned against your slick skin.

“Cum for me,” he whispered against you, loud enough for you to hear his command. “Let me taste you. Cum on my face, darling.”

You clenched around his fingers, moaning the loudest you had all night. There was a fresh rush of wetness and the lewd sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you grew louder. Astarion slipped his fingers out of you and his tongue back into your cunt to taste you as your orgasm ripped through you. He put his thumb on your clit and started rubbing.

Astarion’s eyes fluttered shut as he tasted your cum. You were sweet, absolutely divine, your ecstasy meant entirely for him. He groaned into your pussy and your legs wrapped around his head, helping to bury him in your slick entrance. He giggled, more than happy to stay there longer and keep licking your cum out of you.

He tapped your thigh when he was done and you put your shaking legs back to the floor. He got to his feet and crawled over you, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss. You moaned into his mouth, then made a sound of surprise.

“Do you taste yourself on my tongue?” he whispered, looking at you with hooded eyes.

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Good.” He kissed you again, grinding on your thigh to ease the throbbing in his cock. You groaned at the feeling, your arms tightening around his neck. You broke away from his mouth to pepper his face in tiny, loving kisses.

An overwhelming fondness filled him and he pulled away from you enough to meet your gaze. You trailed your fingertips over his cheekbone and then to his ear, rubbing gently again. He hummed happily and opened his eyes to see your face as he whispered, “I love you, too.”

You stopped, your eyes widening, your lips parting. Gods, you were beautiful. “Do you really mean—?”

“Yes,” he breathed quickly and bent down to kiss you again. You hummed into his mouth, pulling his body down onto yours. He paused in his grinding, wanting to be against you more than he wanted the friction.

“I love you,” both of you said at the same time, then burst into little giggles. You nuzzled into each other, Astarion’s cheeks hurting from the smile he couldn’t seem to drop. Then you kissed him and pulled his lower lip between your teeth. You tugged slightly.

Astarion pulled back and then glanced down your body to where his cock rested on your stomach. “Are you ready for me, darling?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

He grinned. “Spread your legs a little wider for me, sweet girl.”

You did as he asked without a second thought and he settled between your legs. He guided himself against your entrance, notching the head of his cock there. He looked up at you again and you nodded. He smiled softly, kissed you once, and then looked back down to watch himself sink into you.

Astarion moved slowly, careful not to hurt you, well aware that you hadn’t been fucked in two hundred years. You sucked in a deep breath, keeping your eyes on him as he pushed into you. Astarion let out a low groan as you squeezed around him, already a tight fit, your warmth and wetness enveloping him. When he bottomed out, you released your breath, your head falling back against the pillows.

“Are you alright?” he whispered.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes, I’m alright. Gods… You feel…right. It’s…it’s almost as if it were yesterday you made love to me for the last time.”

He bent down enough to kiss your forehead. “Is that what you want? Do you want me to make love to you?”

“Please,” you whispered.

Astarion began to move. He started with shallow thrusts, trying to allow you time to adjust and get used to the feeling, watching the pleasure on your face as he did. He held himself up with one hand and let the other slide up and down your side comfortingly.

Eventually, you turned your head to kiss his wrist. “More,” you said quietly. When he raised his eyebrow, prompting you, your already flushed cheeks turned scarlet and you amended, “Deeper.”

“Good girl,” he said and let his next thrust bring his pelvis to yours. Both of you moaned into each other. Your breaths came faster as he began to hit that spot deep inside of you over and over again, sure to never go too hard. Then you whispered, “Harder, Asty,” and all restraint left his limbs.

Astarion lifted your leg to get a better angle and began pounding into you relentlessly, grunting with every thrust. Your moans became punctuated and he slowed down briefly to let you get some air.

Your response was to throw both legs around his hips, tug him down to you, and breathe into his ear, “Don’t stop. Don’t stop doing what you’re doing, darling.”

Astarion moaned happily and hurried back into his fast pace. You pulled him into a bruising kiss and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“Can I touch your back?” you whispered and he nodded quickly.

“Scratch at me all you want, sweetness,” he replied and your blush darkened.

You settled your hands on his upper back, your nails digging in just slightly as you held onto him. You crossed your ankles at the small of his back and let him drill into you.

Lips, teeth, and tongues clashed into each other as you made out messily, the sound of your spit-slicked kisses drowned out by the rhythmic smacking of your hips into each other. You felt a soreness begin to build, pleasant and familiar and distinctly Astarion.

For his part, Astarion was pleasantly surprised at how present he was. He found himself electing to keep his eyes open to see the ecstasy wash over your face when he wasn’t kissing you and he smiled at every moan, every “Oh gods” you let out, every cry of his name that left your lips. His whole body buzzed with pleasure and his cock throbbed inside of you. He nuzzled into your neck, kissing softly and nipping gently, not taking blood from you this time. He tongued over the bite he left earlier, licking the dried residue of your blood, but the wound had since closed.

“I love you,” he murmured against your skin. “And I am so sorry that I have been gone.”

You kissed his cheek briefly. “I love you, too.”

Astarion groaned into your neck, then pushed himself back up, fucking into your pussy wildly. “You feel so godsdamn good,” he panted, grinning down at you. “I haven’t felt this way in…a very long time.”

You gently squeezed his hips with your legs and reached up to cup his face. “I’ve missed how perfect you feel,” you said. “How you always hit the right spots.” You moaned as he did exactly that, your entire body tensing, preparing for your orgasm.

“Are you close?” he asked.

“Very,” you breathed.

He brushed your hair from your face. “Cum whenever you’re ready, darling. I want to feel you spasm around me.”

You whimpered. “Oh, Asty,” you moaned. You relaxed into the mattress. “Go a little harder and I’ll be there.”

He did as you asked, pounding into you fast and hard and just a little bit rough. He reached down to put his fingers on your clit and you let out a shriek, clenching tightly around him. He gasped, his cock twitching at the stimulation. You threw your head back, nearly screaming as you came around him, his name lost somewhere in your shrieks of pleasure. The fresh slickness of your cum surrounded him and he glanced down to find a ring of white on his cock, getting thicker and brighter by the second.

The grunts that fell from Astarion’s mouth were rougher, louder. He squeezed his eyes shut and then forced them open again.

“Darling—” he gasped, his entire body trembling with exertion as he tried to stave off his impending orgasm. “I’m— I’m gonna cum, oh gods, where do you— Where do you want it?”

There was a soft look on your face as you whispered, “Inside. Inside like the last time you ever fucked me.”

Astarion groaned, the reveal bringing tears to his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the tear drop from his lashes. Your thumb came up to his face and wiped gently at his eye. He whimpered, leaning into your touch.

“Cum for me, honey,” you whispered, softly cupping his cheek.

Astarion whined and kissed your palm, burying himself to the hilt. He moaned loudly, tilting his head back, and it quickly became a series of high-pitched whimpers as ecstasy washed through his body. He trembled, holding himself up until he was spent. Then he collapsed on top of you, panting harshly.

You held him close, soothing him with quiet hushes and soft whispers of how wonderful he had done for you. You kissed the top of his head, running your hand through his curls, murmuring your love to him with a smile on your face.

Eventually, Astarion pulled out of you. You whimpered and he whispered a soft apology. He sat back to watch his seed drip out of you. Fascinated, he gently swiped his fingers through your mixed releases. You shuddered. He held his fingers up to your mouth. You quirked an eyebrow at him at first, then opened your mouth and let him slide his fingers between your lips. Dutifully, you licked them clean.

“I guess we’ve never done that before, huh?” he joked, laying back down on you. He kissed you sweetly, enjoying the taste of you and him together on his tongue.

You shook your head. “Nope. You only came inside me for one night.” He raised an eyebrow and you explained carefully, “I’d been tracking my cycle so I knew you could cum inside me without us getting pregnant too early. We wanted to wait until after our wedding to start trying for a baby.”

Astarion’s heart nearly broke. “We…we wanted a family.”

You nodded, smiling in a way that made Astarion feel like you knew the pain twisting in his chest at the moment. “We’d told your parents we wanted one the night before you died. They were…ecstatic. You know, I’m almost surprised they didn’t push us to move the wedding up so we could start faster.”

He laughed, more a huff than anything with how exhausted he was. “I take it they didn’t know about us taking the risk of finishing inside you?”

You grinned. “Well… We didn’t tell them, exactly, but I’m guessing they figured it out with how loud you made me scream that night.”

Astarion smirked. “Was it louder than you just were?”

“Oh, much louder,” you said, somehow teasing and serious at the same time. “I thought the entire neighborhood could hear you making me scream.”

“So I’ve always been good at sex, then?”

You shrugged. “Not…exactly. The first few times were a little…subpar in comparison to what our sex life became, the sex we just had. But because it was you, because it was so new…we still enjoyed it.”

The two of you shuffled to lay on your sides, facing each other. You snuggled against his chest and Astarion held you tightly, pressing soft, lingering kisses to every inch of your face.

“I love you,” he murmured. “And I see why I loved you then. You are…perfect. Considerate. Gentle. You don’t…push for things I don’t want to do. You just know what I like, even after all this time… I had thought I had changed, but…”

“You did change,” you said. “But not so much that I don’t recognize the man underneath all your disguises, all your layers. You are, deep down, still my Astarion.”

He curled more tightly around you. “I like being yours.”

You kissed his nose. “I like it, too.”

The pair of you lapsed into comfortable silence. Astarion listened to your breathing and your steady heartbeat, watching your chest rise and fall against his, moving as if he was also breathing.

You were so comfortable with him… So vulnerable. You trusted him with your exposed neck, with your bare body, with your love. Hells, how he wished he could remember what he had done to earn that trust. How he wished he could keep your trust.

Some time later, you mumbled into his skin, “It’s two hours until dawn, my love.”

Fear crept back into Astarion’s mind. “I know.”

“We should get going soon.”

He held you just a little tighter. “Not— Not quite yet, darling. Let me hold you for a few minutes more.”

You smiled knowingly against his chest and Astarion wondered how many mornings he had refused to get up, electing instead for a few more minutes in bed with you, your limbs tangled and the sheets just barely covering your lower halves. “Alright.”

Astarion pressed a grateful kiss to the top of your head. His mind began to spin with the beginnings of half-baked plans. The two of you could run, leave now and get as far away as possible. He could simply not go back, he could hide here with you until night fell again and then the two of you could leave. He could bring you back to Cazador with a plan, with a way to kill him or escape him or both in mind.

Every plan fell short. Nothing would work. Cazador had too many eyes in the city to disappear this quickly.

We’d never escape alive. And while Astarion was certain that death—true death—would be a relief in comparison to the past two hundred years, he wasn’t willing to force that on you.

He glanced at you, still tucked into his arm, a peaceful look on your face. He tried to capture the image in his mind for a few moments, then stirred and gently slipped out from underneath you. He stood and slowly put his clothes back on.

You watched him do so, sitting up on your arms to grin at him. “Now that’s a sight that never gets old.”

Astarion frowned. “Me putting clothes back on?”

You nodded, reaching for your dress. Astarion helped you get it over your head. “It reminds me of our early mornings when you’d get ready for work and I’d watch you primp and preen until you were perfect.” You adjusted your dress, then looked up at him. “Here—let me fix your hair, I messed it up when I put my hands in it.”

Astarion watched your face, your expression twisted into concentration, your tongue poking out just slightly, as you carded your fingers through his curls and arranged them. When you were satisfied, you stepped back.

“There, good as new,” you said and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

You wrapped your arms around him and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Are you ready?”

Astarion clenched his jaw. “Are you? Are you sure you want to do this? I…I really shouldn’t do this, darling, I should just take the punishment—”

“No,” you said firmly. “I will never forgive myself if I know you’re out there, getting hurt, because I wouldn’t go with you.”

“Darling—”

“Take me to him,” you insisted. “Don’t get yourself hurt for me.”

Still, Astarion bit his lip so hard he tasted his blood. “But isn’t that what we should do? I’d be protecting you—”

“I would be putting you in danger, Asty,” you insisted, cupping his cheek. “Please. Please do this and we will find a way out of this, alright? Even if it’s a last-ditch, desperate attempt to run—we’ll do something. I promise you, love.”

It won’t be enough. It will never be enough. But Astarion didn’t want to dash your hopes; naive as it was, it was relieving to see hope after two hundred years without it. It almost convinced him that you would be the lucky soul to escape Cazador’s bite, his eternal punishment.

Astarion offered you his hand. “Are you ready, darling?”

You nodded, slipping your hand into his. “Ready.”

Before you left, you extinguished the lamps like normal and locked your door behind you like it was any other outing. You slipped the key into a hidden pocket in your dress Astarion hadn’t realized was even there. He admired the stitchwork as you walked hand-in-hand down the street. Despite the anxiety wriggling away in his stomach, Astarion let himself enjoy the feeling of walking with you, touching you, enjoying the last few moments of the night air with you.

The Szarr residence loomed ahead far too quickly, the palace towers casting a horrible shadow across the road leading up to it. Astarion glanced at you as the pair of you passed into the shadows.

“Last chance to back out, darling,” he said quietly. “I can always circle back to an alleyway and drag some poor soul out—”

“No, Asty,” you said gently. “If that was a real option, you would have already done it.”

He sighed and nodded. “Alright. But—darling?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry for what might happen in there, what he’ll do to you.”

You smiled at him. “You don’t have to be sorry, honey, it’s not your fault. Nothing he does to me is your fault.”

“I brought you here,” he insisted. “I brought you here knowing what you’ll have to go through. I could just take the beating, but… I don’t want to, so I’m letting you suffer like I should.”

For the first time, Astarion saw a glimmer of doubt in your eyes. Your steps faltered and he felt the shudder that passed through your body. You licked your dry lips.

“What’s he going to do?”

A painful first bite. Drink you dry. Bury you. Make you dig your way out of your coffin. Trap you in chains the minute you’re free of the dirt. Whip you until you bleed and then lick your wounds. Astarion’s experience flashed through his head. But the fear on your face… He couldn’t tell you any of that, could he?

“Terrible things,” Astarion said gravely. It came out far darker than he intended and he knew what a terrifying sight he was: weak light in his hair, his red eyes glowing in the shadows, his fangs flashing in the dark with every word. You shrank away from him, stopping in your tracks, and inched out of the shadows.

“Astarion, I—”

Fear gripped his undead heart, tainted his vision, thrummed in his veins. Astarion hissed and lunged, grabbing your arm with a vice-like grip. “Come on,” he insisted, just slightly aware of the growl in his voice. You resisted for just a moment, but Astarion was stronger than you were; it only took a tug to pull you back into the shadow of the tower.

Servants of Cazador’s opened the doors for Astarion when they recognized him. They couldn’t hide their shock that he was dragging a victim in, his facade of the perfect lover dropped, and something clicked inside him.

It’s not Cazador who scares her; it’s me.

Astarion nearly let go of you. Then he felt the eyes of his siblings boring into him, all six waiting in a clustered group, and he knew Cazador was near. There was no escape for you now.

Astarion tightened his grip on you and dragged you into the palace’s shadows. He watched your feet cross the threshold, damning you eternally. The door slammed shut.

☞ ❊ ☜

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Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

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reno-korino · 1 year ago

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A complete analysis of Cazador Szarr, his palace, and spawn

A week ago, I posted a Reddit thread analyzing everything to do with Cazador Szarr. I wanted to bring it here! THIS IS A VERY LONG POST, THIS IS YOUR WARNING BEFORE CLICKING. Here is the Reddit link.

Who is Cazador Szarr?

According to the Forgotten Realms wiki for Cazador Szarr, The Szarr family was a family of Baldur's Gate who were once wealthy merchants and farmers.

I couldn’t find any information on what year the actual Szarr family was attacked, but the information I do have is, “Long before the 15th century DR, the land that would encompass Tumbledown held a grand estate that belonged to the mercantile Szarr family. Unfortunately, every member of the Szarrs was murdered by a rival house, and their holdings were burnt to the ground.” It was unknown how Cazador survived. Maybe he organized this? After the tragic incident, Tumbledown was filled with fog. In addition, the Outer City expanded over the area, and it would become a large cemetery.

Decades prior to 1482 DR, a portion of the cliffs that surrounded the area fell away. Because of this, part of the family crypts were revealed; graverobbers seized the opportunity to plunder the tombs.

Cazador is known as Cazador Szarr 'The Avid', according to a scroll titled “Vampires before Vellioth” From this information, we can see that Cazador turned from Vampire spawn, to Vampire Lord the year 1276, and about 20 years later give or take, is when he turns Astarion into a vampire spawn. Considering the game is set in 1492, this means Cazador has been a vampire lord in Baldur Gate for about 216 years. One of Cazador's slaves, Astarion reported that he was turned into a vampire spawn almost two centuries prior to 1492 DR(1292).

Cazador is the patriarch of the Szarr family, (The head of the family) he apparently didn’t want military or political power, He likes power over people. So when he speaks, Astarion (or vampire spawn) body has to react. He apparently made vampire spawn torture themselves and each other for fun. You can interact with a bust in his palace which reads to be 'Mordic SeLanmere', the most powerful vampire king. It suggests that this might be Cazador's ancestor?

After talking/killing the Gur Gandrel, Tav can talk about the night Astarion met Cazador, and you’re able to call out that it was convenient Cazador just happened to find him. Astarion will deflect and claim he probably was found because of the smell of blood. When you do ask Astarion if you should be worried about Cazador hunting you down, he says you should always be aware, but Cazador was never one to actually leave the city ever. (get a life, Cazador.)

Astarion only assumes Gandral works for Cazador, which is false. If you give Astarion up, he'll be held at the Gur camp, where everyone will be slaughtered in Act 3 by Cazador, and Astarion will go back to the Palace as a zombie.

If you don't kill the Gur Gandrel, you actually find out that his two children were part of the 7,000 spawn trapped by Cazador. Sparing Gandrel, and the rest of the 7,000 spawn will let you briefly talk to him, and his two now vampire spawn children,

Cazador has some beef with the Gur (Obviously since he steals their children) because the werewolves that fight you are ‘Fallen Gur Hunters’. At the party, we can also see the werewolves that fight you are from the Hhune family. There’s a ‘Chatterteeth’ that fights alongside Cazador, who is, like Godey, a pair of bones. I’m not sure what Cazadors affinity is for werewolves, maybe its his twilight fantasy of Edward x Jacob?

On Astarion Ancunín

Astarion's age of death is 39, rather young for elves. His grave reads: 229 - 268 DR 498 DR. This Reddit thread gives good information.

Astarion was turned into a vampire by Cazador Szarr in the year 1292DR. Before he was a vampire, Astarion was a magistrate. A magistrate judge is a judicial officer of the district court and is appointed by majority vote of the active district judges of the court. A group of vagrants, a group called the Gur beat Astarion to deaths door when they took issue of a ruling Astarion made. It is there Cazador 'saved' him with the choice of 'life' or 'bleeding to death in the street'.

It isn’t said if Cazador made/let/stopped Astarion from continuing to be a magistrate. Since Cazador saved Astarion from the Gur, he ‘chased them off’ and turned Astarion into a vampire. I think it would be interesting if there was some sort of political move since a large opinion is that Cazador organized the attack. Perhaps there was an issue with Cazador's status?

-- My theory about Astarions family

In another comment, someone suggested Astarion might be from elsewhere instead of being born in the city. The idea he came to Baldur Gate because he wanted to pursue bigger things and become a Magistrate seems in character without having to add in his family, but you'd think he'd be concerned about his family and vise versa? Unless Astarion had bad blood with them.

At the end of the day, for his main 7 spawn, it doesn't make complete sense to have them be born and raised in Baldur Gate with a full family, since that's way too many connections. Too many distractions when they're out getting marks, and too many opportunities for Cazador to be exposed. Since there are 7,000 spawn created by Cazador, but only 7 that he 'keeps', so there has to be some sort of reason.

Were they the most beautiful? Alluring in his eyes? Or perhaps, the most charismatic, or did they have the least amount of connections that could come back to bite him? Surely, there has to have been one incident. Wouldn't that be interesting if there was at least one spawn we don't know, that used to be of the original 7, but was 'taken out' because a family kept asking too many questions?

*-- *

Cazador, on making Astarion vampire, also made him crawl out of his own grave.

“Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there. I had to punch a hole in the coffin and clew my way through six feet of dirt. Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up first and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting.”

It's unclear if Cazador gave all the spawns the same treatment, but my opinion is he did this to send a direct message to Astarion. Astarions grave is in the Thorass alphabet, Showing that his last name is Ancunín. The only way to get to this grave is during a dialogue scene at the end of "The Pale Elf" quest, widely considered the 'good ending' in which the player does not let Astarion ascend. Asended Astarion will not bring you to the grave, and can not be found when in the cemetery in the city.

Astarion also mentions when talking about being turned into a vampire about how painful it was, saying, "I remember how it hurt when I turned into a vampire. My body writhed and warped while I was utterly helpless, the grip of death owned my heart as it beat its last."

In earlier patches, Astarion mentions how he begged Cazador to be turned instead. This is old though, so I wouldn’t say this is reliable.

Astarion does also say in a voiceline that:

"The mindflayers weren't my first kidnapping. A long time ago, I crossed Cazador, a powerful man in Baldur's Gate."

Astarion would bring the people for Cazador, he’d tease Astarion by asking him if he’d like to dine with him, and if Astarion said yes, he’d get a rat(girl dinner). If he said no, he’d have Astarin flayed.

There is also Astarions worst memory, when he was sealed, buried alive for a year. If you ask him about it in Act 3, he talks about how in his first decade, he found a darling boy that he couldn’t bring back to Cazador. So Astarion ran and disobeyed. Cazador caught him and sealed him up, starved him inside a dusty tomb for a year. He claims,

“A year of silence. Months of scratching my hands raw, trying to carve my way out. More months of not moving at all. Months wishing only for death.”

Astarions Brothers and Sisters, the Seven Spawn

It seems Cazador has his main seven spawn, Astarions ‘brothers and sisters’. Seems like Cazador had a real, manager-in retail type mentality and claimed they were ‘all a family’ even while he was carving scars into their flesh. To note, I’m not sure why the only scars Astarion DOES have are the ones on his back. Apparently, Astarion was ‘one of his firsts’ which signals that Astarion might be the second spawn? The rest came years later, but took a special interest in Astarion for his ‘sweet sounds’. Astartion does seem to have some sort of survivor's guilt for them. It isn't ever specified who came first, or who was the most recent.

The respective spawn names are: Leon, Aureila, Yousen, Violet, Dalyria and Pale Petras

They all have the same stats. The demographic is:

Female (3/7) - 43 %

Male (4/7) - 57 %

With 1 Tiefling(Aurelia), 1 Halfling(Yousen), 3 elves(Violet, Astarion,Dalyria), and 2 humans(Pale Petras, Leon) - This is based on observation, I could be wrong!

Their eyes will be glowing red, which means they are under the influence of Cazador. This applies to all the spawn. Once Cazador is dead, their eyes stop glowing.

When Leon and Aurelia confront you at the inn (and attack you), Aurelia claims Cazador knew where Astarion was the entire time, likely watching us from the shadows.

Cazador apparently promised the 6 vampire spawn that he’d set them free. You can learn more about Pale Petras, where he wants to bring back one more person so when he is ‘free’, he will have someone to drink dry right off the bat. Dalyria doesn’t seem to humor the idea and instead wants to leave in fear of angering Cazador by being late, BUT interestingly enough, the vampire spawn are out in the day in a tavern, which means they are hunting day AND night? Considering how Astarion talks to Pale Petras, it's clear that they don’t really get along too well.

When you meet the spawn slave, after succeeding on a perception check, you notice on all 7,000 spawns, "Beneath the first and blood, you notice that every prisoner has a rune carved into their flesh." What is interesting, is it only looks like Sebastian is the only one with these marks. I looked at all the other spawn NPCS and couldn't find anything visible. The runes marked into Sebastian also look kind of fresh, so this perhaps was a recent thing? Unless I'm reading the scars wrong, but from how Astarion talked about his scars, it doesn't sound like he was given them as soon as he was turned into a vampire spawn.

As for the appearance of the other spawn, I can chalk it up to the models not being completely finished with the runes, I suppose… Either that or Tav can see under people's clothes…. kinda weird!

More on Cazador and Baldur Gate

According to Astarion, Cazador is just another ordinary noble in Baldur City. He says that Cazador is a little reclusive perhaps, but just another ‘the great and good’ of Baldur’s Gate. He apparently has a grand palace on the hills of the Gate, where he hosts the city’s high society. This makes me wonder, since there is a ballroom in Cazador’s palace if he hosts all these large high society balls. Astarion wonders if Cazador would risk exposure by doing it at the palace, signaling that Cazador at least, does care for his image.

When your character is a Baldurian, you can ask, “That giant gothic monstrosity has been inhabited by vampires this entire time?” So at least the citizens of Baldur Gate can see how out of place it is.

The Szarr Palace has a palace south tower and ramparts. He has city guards charmed guarding the entrance. It also has a garden and beautiful architecture. The Szarr palace colors are teal and red. My analysis of the building is linked.

The dialogue from Astarions origin character playthrough when he has a nightmare about Cazador:

Spoken like a true old bitch:

“First, thou shelf not drink of the blood of thinking creatures.”

“Second, thou shalt obey me in all things.”

“Third, thou shalt not leave my side unless directed.”

“Fourth, thou shalt know that thou art mine.”

Cazador keeps all the spawn underground in cages. When meeting Sebastion in the cages, you tell Sebastion he’d been down there for “One hundred and seventy years. You were one of my first, too.” This means either the “200” years is more 175 years, or he might not have gone out to get spawn for around ~15 years. It could also mean Astarion sees the 15 years as a short period of time, which would make sense.

Astarion thinks that Cazador hired the Gur to find Astarion in Act 1, and the Gur does not know what Cazador really is. If you give Astarion up and go to Cazador in the future, he will ask you if you’re the one who “took my poor Astarion under your wing, only to abandon him so cruelly?”

What’s really interesting, if you interact with Astarion in the ritual, he’s a zombie, unlike his other spawn. Could this be because he was tortured by Cazador, flayed?

When you read Cazadors mind after killing him without Astarion, it seems Cazador has nightmares of “The boy I was, the man I became, the monster that will not end. I sleep, but cannot rest, I live, but cannot die. I am eternal, and I grieve.” I say shut the fuck up, Cazador.

Obviously, Astarion meeting Cazador in the current up to date patch(9/7/2023) , he’s very demeaning. Man rolls his r’s like he’s still in the fucking renaissance. He claims Astarion is still his even if he can resist his words. He waves around his stupid little staff, but his magic is still strong enough to grab Astarion into the ascension ritual even if you roll a nat 20 to resist.

On talking to Astarion about coming home :

Cazador seems to have mortal servants walking around the palace. The Servants aren’t charmed, but they are ‘fanatics’ as Astarion claims, “Here of their own free will, and utterly devoted to Cazador.” He says, “Each one came to our door and begged to be given his ‘eternal gift’. They’re sure he’ll turn them if they serve him well enough” whatever the fuck that means.

What I can gather from this information is, that people do know that Cazador is a vampire lord, but obviously not everyone. It's like the well-kept secret that isn’t a secret because Astarion claims earlier that Cazador wouldn’t want to do the ritual at the Palace for fear of exposing himself. If anyone else has any clarification that Cazador is a known vampire, please, I'm all ears.

The servants seem to be obsessed with keeping the place clean, making sure it's ‘pure’. But that’s kind of hard considering there are BATS flying around everywhere in this palace. I can't tell if they are paid at all, either, they are just there freaked out trying to be the best they can so they can be the next vampire spawn. It also makes me wonder, why doesn't Cazador just turn these people into spawn? Is he afraid to scare staff away when they vanish because they begged at Cazadors door for vampirism? How on earth did they find this out? What on earth is Cazadors title to these people, is he a lord even if the public doesn't know he's a vampire lord?

All the text in Cazadors Palace Explained, and rooms explained

[ALL THE TEXT FOUND IN CAZADORS PALACE]

Chamberlain Dufey

In the Chaimberlain's private quarters, we find Chamberlain Dufey’s dead body in a casket. The Chamberlain is responsible for managing the household of nobles, so Dufey would have managed the household for Cazador. It's suggested by a private note left by Dufey’s Werewolf GF that he killed himself via poison, and so she Romeo and Juliet herself and killed herself as well.

You can find his diary on the bed on the floor, and we find out that Dufey killed himself because he found out about Cazador's ritual, because Cazador wanted Dufey to be the stand-in for the missing Asterion. He even calls Astarion a brat! Ironically enough, his poison is just enough to slow his heart and he isn’t actually dead, so his lover found him and killed herself in return. True poetry. Dufey hopes that once Cazador ascends, he can leave since Cazador won’t need his management anymore. This suggests that Dufey is a prisoner in one way or another. He is, a vampire spawn interestingly enough.

Godey

Cazador would throw the spawn into a ‘kennel’ when he was displeased with the vampire spawn. This is hidden by an illusion, that Astarion claims is one of his regular, cheap tricks.

Godey is a pair of bones that is under Cazador's control. He claims to be doing his job and to ‘keep him(astarion) in line.” He apparently tortured the spawn for days at a time, and Godey seemed to enjoy the screaming.

Spawn sleeping quarters

The vampire spawn seemed to live in a ‘dormitory style’ living, inside the dormitory wing. He has two rooms, “spawn dormitory” and “favorite spawn”

You can find Violet's diary, where she says the ‘garlic in Yousen's bed gave him a nasty rash’ which signals that vampires can’t handle garlic. It also shows that Violet is a little shit and makes life hell for the other spawn… a true sibling. Leon has a daughter named Victoria, but Cazador seems to ‘have a little plan for her.’

There is also a blood ledger from Dufey, who states the rules of what type of people Cazador wants to be picked up. Most notably, to focus on the lower class. He chastises them for picking up three people from wealthy families because their families of course are wondering where the as fuck they went. The goal is not to attract unwanted attention and to avoid aristocrats, even if they are out slumming in the lower city.

Favorite Spawn

The ‘favored spawn’ room is a lot more grand, with nice beds that don’t stack on a bunk bed. I wonder if Astarion was a bottom or top bunk?

It turns out when looking at the favorited spawn list, it mostly is Leon, with Violet taking only one year. When you read Leon's diary though, we find out he’s working so hard because he has a daughter named Victoria. Leon writes, “I've had to be his best hunter just so I could stay here with my daughter and keep her away from the other spawn. I don’t like the way Violet looks at her, not at all!”

So it seems that Cazador let the other spawn family stay with them unless Victoria is an outlier… But while they are ‘siblings’, they still do not get along. Either that or Violet is just a bitch. That being said, Leon also writes, “When I ask the master what he plans to do with Victoria, Cazador just gives me that wicked smile.” He writes that he is working together on a plan to disguise Victoria so she can escape. She’s a human girl running around, and her father even writes her a note to learn the ancient language book that is in the guest room so she can move around freely in the mansion. This means there was a KID running around the palace. A HUMAN KID.

You can also find a list that Victoria made, which seems focused on the number '17' for some reason.

What I’m gathering is, that Cazador is wicked and sick- of course, we knew that. But poor Leon, protecting his daughter? All of this is to say- Victoria is dead in the guest room. She’s covered by necrotic magic.

Astarion claims he has brought people to this guest room before.

Dalyria

In the guest room, we get to find Dalyria’s diary. It claims she was a Doctor, and Physician General to the Parliment of Baldur Gate. She claims she will always be a Doctor, despite what Cazador did to her.

She says that a “massive infusion of fresh, youthful blood may overwhelm the vampirism infection and enable my body to heal” and points out that Victoria is the pureblooded daughter of Leon. This seems to indicate that she thinks that vampirism is a blood-affected thing, and can be cured one way or another.

Leon was apparently a sorcerer before he became spawn, and warned everyone to not bite her since he booby-trapper her blood in case of an attack. So… considering she is letting out necrotic energy, I assume that Dalyria tried to bite her because she assumed Leon was lying.

When you try to Speak with Dead on her, it seems her answers don’t line up too well with the actual journal entries. She says that Dalyria lured her with the promise of food and shelter and she was bit by her, and then Dal was dragged away by Cazador, and Victoria was eventually killed by him.

A question I have is, with a daughter so young, and Leon has been on the favorite spawn list for so many years, did he have this kid when he was a vampire? She looks like she’s only 10 or younger, so he either had to have her at the Palace when she was a baby or he somehow got someone pregnant.

The Ballroom

When you enter the ballroom, the people on the floor are called guests. So I can assume there was some party, and then the werewolves were called to rip everyone up. On the body of a woman named Sanseverina, she’s carrying a note that says. *“Sansy, I've been invited to a party at the Szarr Palace tonight in their ballroom. Show the chamberlain at the door this note and he’ll let you in to join me. Wear your best dress!” - Callira (*Sansy was not indeed, wearing a dress at all.)

Callira can be found in what I assume is the cigar room dead on the floor. She holds a note from Dufay that she is requested by Cazador to play music at the party.

Using "Speak to Dead" on one of the dead party members on the floor, we find out that one of them is named "Sterlac", a Senior Clerk in the Counting House. He was invited to the party, and claims he was enjoying the party, drinking and talking. When you ask him what he was talking about, he says,

"Work… Counting House… Who controls what. Wanted names of senior staff… families… any scandals, secrets…"

He also says that at the party, the guests were politicians, minor nobles, fist officers, 'all sorts'. Cazador wanted information, he apparently asked them all a lot of questions about the power structures in the city, the weaknesses, and the type of people Cazador should look at controlling.

Cazador apparently took the most beautiful people away from the party, and they were never seen again. According to Sterlac, after Cazador left, werewolves came to the party and made the guests their little afternoon snack. From what I can gather, it does seem that Cazador has his foot in the door pretty heavily in politics, if he's using clerks for their information about staff and…. scandals.

I'm assuming this random attack of wolves is in reference to the 'grand feast' Dufay writes about in his party planner diary you'll find in Cazador's office.

What my takeaway is, that people in political power, at least of use to Cazador, know he is a vampire. But it isn't generally common knowledge, even when Tav comments on the vampire-filled manor, and Astarion jokes back that its "subtle, isn't it?"

Dufay also orders the guards on the wall to make sure they're vigilant and that the staff are silent and never speak. This shows that Cazador’s reach goes all the way to the guards. Dufay does note that “If you encounter the mater, stand still and cast down your eyes with dereference. The master likes to be respected.”

Oh. and no whistling, of course.

What is the puzzle under Cazadors Palace?

The puzzle under Cazador Palace can be entered via the cigar room. Me, and so many people have concluded this is simply an unfinished room since I tried to do just about everything to get this to work.

I back my theory up because this is the only location in Cazadors Palace that isn't marked as dangerous and allows the player to long rest and travel by waypoint etc.

Venturing further, we can find a confession from one of Cazador's captives, where they confess their transgressions. This is from someone named Dawson Kiltmaker, who claims they cheated on the city accountants' certification test. Since Dawson suspects he is going to die, he is using the journal to rid himself of sins so he can die with his soul a little lighter. He also claims that Cazador gloats, so it's confirmed that Cazador at least, fucks with the prisoners mentally. There are a lot of dead bodies so it can be assumed sometimes, Cazador just keeps people / kills them instead of turning them.

Cazadors Office Area / Family / Attic

Cazador's office is directly linked to the ballroom named the “Office Hall”

There’s a party planner on the desk that Dufay used to plan Cazador's gatherings. The ballroom functions are divided into two categories - Invited guests and involuntary guests, which are the entertainment for the latter category being considerably more sinister than the former.

So what I can assume is … There are other vampires invited or others invited of different types of morality that use or torture the second category? Thats wild. Cazedor also planned a ‘final feast’ that Dufey had to organize, which involved invited and involuntary guests…

Cazadors desk has Starbrt Shandy, a Carafe of wine, and Cagulated blood. He also seems to keep up with the news since articles are on his desk and a book about Baldur City's history. Cazador's entire office is just… blood and wine. Dude parties non fucking stop. There is also a book on the upper city and the lower city.

The Dais is the elevator down into the dungeon, Astarion had no idea it was there. He said Cazador brought his victims there, so it can be assumed that Astartion at least dragged the person to Cazador's office before they were brought to the second room down the elevator… Imagine how scary that would be.

There's a bust of Shyressa Runemaster as well, a vampire in 1360 DR. It should be noted, there's so many bottles of wine in this fucking estate. Does NOBODY drink water???

Cazador's Niece

In the attic, we actually get entries from Cazador's family from the year 1477. Amanita Szarr, Cazadors ‘niece’ claims she didn’t know that Cazador was a vampire. She claims she had no idea that her family were vampires, so it confirms that the Szarr family at least has some nonvampires and a long line of vampires.

She grew up on the country estate near Anga Vled was raised by servants, and hardly ever visited the city palace in Baldurs Gate. It noted she hated visiting, and that the Palace straddles the wall between the Upper and Lower City. In the year 1477 when she was 13, Cazador personally summoned her, and she was brought by carriage. Dufey greets her and brings her to the ballroom, and It is here that Cazador forcibly turns her into a vampire in the torture room above the ballroom. She was imprisoned in the attic by someone named Bolvart for trying to resist being a vampire, and she eventually succumbed and drank human blood. They kept her in the attic starving for an entire year and eventually sent up a bound captive, which she killed. So Amanita decided to stay up in the attic for the rest of her life calling herself Lady Incognita.

Amanita later wrote a book describing blood diseases claiming that there is something that can infect vampires with a brief illness. It's called “Red Thrombosis and Thandals Paroxsym”. Vampires should be able to recognize this before they even bite people if they are trained. Do you hear that, Astarion lovers? It's time to write Astarion is sick fanfiction. Or.. maybe, Cazador is fucking ill and everyone points and laughs.

So even those who survived the Szarr massacre still get hunted down by Cazador to become vampires it seems. Cazador leaves no stone unturned, but it makes me wonder how many other surviving members there had to have been. Obviously, Cazador has siblings if he has a niece.

Cazadors Corner

Going down into Cazador’s dungeon, there is a list with thousands of names from Baldur City, which can be assumed the sibling's victims.

There is Cazador's journal, which records the movements and actions of his spawn. He seems REALLY interested in Astarions, noting his every order, failure, and punishment.

He says, “Astarion failed to return from his hunt this night. Godey Informed. He will have the pliers ready when the boy shows himself again.”

Cazador starts to say how upset he is that Astarion is missing and that he wants to make Astarion scream. So then, Cazador starts to torture his siblings to find Astarion since he’s been missing for days. He then notes that when Astarion interacts with his siblings in Wyrms Crossing, Astarion is able to stand in the sunlight and bolds that he’s able to disobey Cazador. Dude is fucking upset writing in his diary. This obviously won't appear if you don't ever interact with Pale Petras and Dal.

In another book, Cazador writes about how he’s concerned about Lord Gortash because of his new steel watch, wondering if they’d mess with his vampire spawn and how he operates….

Cazador has a letter he writes to Mrel Alkam, who I suppose leads their own vampire circle in another region called “Athkatla” which is apparently more homogeneous than Baldurs Gate. He tells Alkam to enjoy his success while he has it because he plans to surpass him. He also says that he’s been long content with being a major city’s vampire lord. This signals that Cazador is not the only vampire lord out there, of course, but he’s feeling inferior.

Cazador essentially is writing this hatemail like, You might think you’re so cool and special with your vampires, but just you wait, I'm about to become cooler AND more popular. (For the record, Cazador slept in a twin-sized bed, so he was getting NO bitches.)

Looking into Athkatla further, we can find that this is the "City of Coin" , a location in BG2. There is a whole vampire coven in Athkatla, which players are able to interact with in BG2.

Under Cazadors corner, you can also find a scroll written by Lady Incognita that it was Donnela Szarr, Vellioth's original Vampire master, explaining how she was the one that opened the halls that Cazador uses as his dungeon. Apparently, they were built by mining dwarves who were exiles from Bhaerynden and seemed to be more of an outpost abandoned with time. Donnela questions, what was being mined here? It's questioned by Lady Incognita that it's unusual the halls were never discovered under Baldur's Gate, and they could have been deliberately hidden.

Cazadors previous vampire master, Vellioth

Vellioth - A skull with a scroll clamped in its teeth. This is Cazador's previous master, a cruel man.

His first lesson: “Is to always dominate. Allow none to be your equal.”

“Vellioth recalls when Cazador reached out to a former friend. His punishment was to watch as Vellioth drained his friend dry.”

His second lesson: “Power comes from solitude. To share with others is to be weak, and to be weak is to fail… and die.”

"Vellioth recalls when Cazador rebelled against him. Cazador suffered eleven years of impalement… because he failed."

(For the record, this is fucking horrific. It's such a hard juxtaposition AND parallel between him and Astarion.)

His third lesson: “Act not in haste. A near immortal has time to plan, time to act when others will pay the price of action.”

“Vellioth recalls Cazador, his lesson learned, killing him in the Rite of Perfect Slaughter. How they both laughed! Vellioth recalls Cazador boiling the flesh from his skull and then, to mock him, clamping his Schooling Scroll in Vellioth's jaws.”

(I couldn't find any information about the Rite of Perfect Slaughter)

Vellioth

As for Vellioth, he is known as Vellioth the Martinet. A Martinet is a strict disciplinarian, especially in the armed forces. He ruled from 1204 - 1276(72 years). A lot shorter run than most, but overall rather average considering. Vellioth’s master was Donnela Szarr the Architect, which makes me wonder if Vellioth was actually his family. There are only two Szarr names on the list of vampire lords, including Cazador and Donnela.

Here are the recent 5 stats:

Cazador Szarr - 216 years

Vellioth - 72 years

Donnela Szarr - 66 years

Hideous Gathwycke - 119 years

Failbleur the Fleeting - 0 years

The average amount of years in Cazador's recent 5 history of Vampire Lords is about 94.6 hours, with Cazador holding the highest number. When calculating the numbers for all listed, the average is 80 years, with Cazador taking the gold medal for longest in ruling.

My general opinion on why Cazador is most obsessed with Astarion is not only looks, but because I wonder if he also sees himself in Astarion- Cazador rebelled and pulled against Vellioth, so maybe he punished Astarion as Vellioth punished him for being bad.

Astarion will note that Cazador can’t be original for once and stole his own rules from Vellioth.

I think it's really interesting to see this side of the story, because when you ascend Astarion it feels like he kind of becomes the next Cazador, and this shows that Cazador was also in the same vicious cycle of abuse. Not that anything Cazador did was ever acceptable, but it's an interesting angle.

You do have choices to break this cycle or continue it. If you convince Astarion to not go through with it, he will thank you for believing in him.

On letting Astarion Ascend, he will sadly continue the cycle of abuse it kind of feels, not letting you break up with him at the end of the game. He laughs and calls you stupid, and says,

“You’re mine, remember?”

It's a sad reminder- Cazador is a cruel, vicious, and unredeemable person, but was also once a person, likely with some sort of light in his eyes… only to be shut down by abuse from his master, which makes his character so interesting.

Astarions Victims

From the four older captives that Astarion has brought, there is Sebastian, Wensleydale, Hapdim, and Gondlemead. Only Sebastion can speak. For…. research purposes, they do not react to being attacked.

For the children, it seems Cazador specifically ordered Astarion to capture them. This can only be assumed because they are the children of the Gur. When you kill Cazador, before leaving, you'll be confronted by Ulma, a leader of the Gur tribe. They are upset that Astarion stole their children, but seeked Astarion out when they find out he fled and somehow betrayed Cazador in hopes they could recruit Astartion.

There also does seem to be a back entrance to the dungeon from the sewer. Who knows how often that was used since there is a scene with a girl who was meeting up with a ‘silver-haired’ man who told her there was going to be a party when you reach Act 3.

Why didn't Astarion bite Cazador?

I wish I had a good theory for this, but I really don't. So, the only thing I have that could be something is Astarion mentions:

"In theory, the next step is to drink their blood. Once you've done that, you're free and a true vampire."

But he follows up by saying that it doesn't happen because vampires are the true natural enemies of another vampire. I read something someone said that maybe the vampire has to be willing to let the spawn bite him, but that doesn't make sense since Cazador didn't seem all that willing to be stabbed to death. If the tadpole can protect him from Cazador's grip, it should be able to allow him to bypass that stipulation.

So, at the end of the day, I think we can assume this is some plot hole. Either that or Astarion is thinking about it the next day after he rejected ascension and realizes, 'Wait fuck!'

My questions about Cazador…

I would love to know more about his Palace and why it was built/bought in such a weird spot?

How long Cazador has been a vampire?

Do the citizens of Baldur City know Cazador is a vampire lord? Or is it, if you know you know?

How long ago was the Szarr family massacred, and how many really survived? What was his family like?

How did Cazador meet Vellioth?

What is his fucking problem with Astarion?

What is his title? Is he referred to as 'my lord'?

Is he seen as a Patron to his spawn by the public?

What was the most surprising fact you learned?

#BG3 #Astarion #Cazador #Cazador Szarr #baldurs gate 3 spoilers #Baldurs Gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #i made this for all my vampire lovers and fanfiction writers #<3 #i hate that my friends now call me cazador girl #my bg3 posts

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the-last-teabag · 9 months ago

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Inspired by the movie poster of "The Handmaiden" (great movie, go watch it)

Depicting the dynamics of the three main characters of the fanfic "Perfect Slaughter" by @asterdurge

I tried to give Caz the most Dracula-esque outfit possible, even added a little bat brooch. A man who keeps hundreds of bats in his dark castle (so that everyone who sets a foot inside knows that they are entering a vampire lair) would wear something like that.

Also Tyrus using Message to quietly communicate with his Astarion.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #bg3 fanart #cazador szarr #astarion ancunin #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfiction #my stuff #tyrus #astarion x tav

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spaceyqueer · 4 months ago

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Mizora sucks ass and she should be treated with the same contempt that Cazador is by both canon and the fandom, but her abuse is minimised because she's a hot gaslight girlboss, not a racist Asian stereotype (remember when Cazador had a moustache?), and her victim is a black man and people's sympathy evaporates when they have to apply it to a black character.

#and to be abso-fucking-lutely clear. yes astarion was abused and im glad the text addresses it #and YES i know theres some people who sexualise cazador but generally they're much more of an outlier #then people who find mizora attractive. ive seen far more art of mizora. to give credit fanfiction is usually harsher on her #but i find it disgusting that even larian treats mizora as a much more lighthearted villain. even making a gag about #wyll finding her attractive in the christmas short.#wyll's abuse should be treated just as seriously as astarion's.#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #wyll ravengard #astarion ancunin #yes im tagging this post with him because its relevant. astarion is generally prioritised by larian over any other character #but wyll is particularly shafted with far less content then any other character.#and their backstories have a lot of parallels being manipulated and used by awful people #anyway #mizora #cazador szarr #edited #edited as it wasnt clear re: cazador's altered appearance following early access

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beesneedswords · 10 months ago

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Final Rest

Ascended Astarion ending. 🪷

Masterlist

You sit and stare at the wall as you finally take a bath. It's the first one in weeks, but you're finally free of the tadpole in your head, and free of the Brain. You and Astarion have bought Cazador's Palace, to him it was another step in gaining himself back, to you it was a house, finally. A place to lay your head, a place to make your own. You were thinking blue instead of red, it's a royal color, but you also love how Astarion looks in it. You contemplate the pattern for the curtains when Astarion walks in.

You don't notice, but he stands and watches you for a minute, "Almost done, darling?" You're startled, but not frightened. He smiles at you, not a full smile, a small one you haven't seen him have since the ritual.

"I was thinking of redecorating." You stand and wrap a towel around yourself, "I was thinking blue."

"Whatever you want. I know you'll make it look perfect, just like you." He kissed your hand as you both walk to your room, "The red is a bit too much anyways, and I'd like a change."

You stand as he sits on the bed, drying yourself off. In his eyes you see the same darkness from when he turned you into his spawn. The power, determination, and degrading look he gives you. You don't mind that you have lowered yourself, but you now worry you won't be enough for his ever growing ego. The thought slips away as his hands lay on your hips and his eyes are now softer, the old Astarion reflected in them.

"I want to fulfill what I said, before you turned." He pulls you to him, "A decade in each other's arms."

Your heart leaps, maybe you were wrong, he's still the same vampire you fell in love with. He kisses you and you both collapse onto the bed, the last few months weighing you down. You hope to sleep for a decade in his arms.

You turn to look at him, his eyes are closed. You admire his pale skin and the bruises and scars from previous battles that are starting to fade. Your fingers comb through his hair and his muscles loosen, you never realized how tense he always was. With the mindflayer, Absolute cultists, Cazador's ritual, and the Brain, there's no wonder he has been living on the edge all this time.

You twist the silver strands around your index finger and notice the red eyes on you, "Thank you." His voice barely a whisper.

"For what, love?" You ask, his eyes close again and he pulls you against his body, "Star, what is it?"

"You saved me, you helped me become what I am." He sighs, "I'm honestly surprised you did."

"I want you to be happy. You lived two centuries in torment, I want you to finally feel love."

"Love."

The words leave his lips, but he's still unsure of the real meaning. He thinks what he's done to you, sharing his newfound power and his new purpose is love. Maybe it is, but love to you is going to the ends of the world to keep what you have, killing anyone who would dare threaten it. It's putting yourself aside for other people. You know he is still learning what it means to be someone's everything, so you push aside your thoughts for now.

You lay your head on his chest and listen, but there is no sound. No heartbeat you'd expect to hear. Slowly your eyes get heavy, and you do as he'd hope. You spend a decade in each other's arms. Together you redecorate the palace into a beautiful blue, you host your late companions over when you can. You don't leave each other's side for a decade. You couldn't be happier.

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spacebarbarianweird · 6 months ago

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Burn, Butcher, Burn!

Synopsis: Before leaving Baldur's Gate for good, Tiriel and Astarion have one more thing to do.

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Tags: fluff, traumatized Astarion, things and places are burning

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Please! Let me out! Please!

Cold. Hunger. Pain.

How long has he been there?

Months? Years? Decades?

Astarion has bitten his wrists to get at least a few more drops of blood. But it only made him hungrier. He dreams of fleas and rats and worms because at least those vermin are alive.

He hasn’t moved for so long. He wishes only for death.

But he is already dead.

And it’s only getting worse.

The torture will never end. His skin will be flayed. His body will be raped. His bones will be broken.

Over and over again.

The reverie lets Astarion go. He stares into the darkness – full of shades of grey thanks to his elven darkvision.

He isn't in the coffin.

Astarion licks his lips. Memories slowly crawl back dispelling the nightmares.

Could it be…

Something moves beside him. A body.

Is it another conquest? Another victim? Is it?

Astarion elbows up fearing he will see an unfamiliar face.

Tiriel nuzzles into his chest. Her breathing is steady and so is her heartbeat. She is as warm as a fireplace. She has a bandage on her neck, and Astarion catches a subtle scent of blood.

It is real. All of it.

Freedom.

Love.

Satiation.

Warmth.

Astarion stares at Tiriel’s face.

A month ago, they both got rid of the parasites and Astarion had to return to the darkness.

He expected Tiriel to abandon him once she saw him for what he really was.

She didn’t.

And she is still there, by his side.

He watches her, studying her facial features. Tiriel hugs him, sharing her body warmth with him, and he knows his cold touch would feel uncomfortable to her if it wasn’t for an extremely thick blanket covering them.

Suddenly Tiriel moves and opens her eyes.

“Hm? Are you awake?” she asks.

“Yes”

She turns on her back, tugs her blanket and falls asleep.

Of course, Astarion realizes she woke up because he was staring.

Astarion sits up, putting his legs on the floor.

He needs something to occupy himself – it’s still daylight outside, almost noon. And Tiriel needs to sleep.

Sleep. Such a strange concept. Elves need to get absolutely wasted or drugged to experience what others have to go through daily. Would he be happier if he could sleep? He remembers his siblings – Petras’ stupid smile, Leon’s peaceful face.

It seems like he and Daylria suffered the most – elves who couldn't escape from their misery to the dream world.

Astarion stands up and sits on the floor.

What to do?

Boredom was such a weird concept – he never experienced peace in the two centuries of misery.

And now he has all the peace in the world.

And Astarion doesn't know what to do with it.

He opens a book. Closes it.

So many books to read. And he can't choose any. He lacks concentration. Before, he could have only dreamt of indulging in all these simple luxuries, but now, he simply can't make himself.

He fears being punished.

Beaten.

Astarion curls at Tiriel’s side. Plants a kiss on her back. Deep down, he wishes to wake her up, to hear her voice soothing his anxieties.

What if she were an elf like him and didn't need to sleep…

Nonsense. Astarion can wait a few hours before Tiriel returns to him.

He lets Tiriel go and leaves the bed. He approaches a small window and hears voices from the outside. He doesn't dare to open the thick curtain for even the small amount of sun will leave him in pain and burns.

It's been a week since the netherbrain, and the city was being slowly re-constructed – whole streets were destroyed. Astarion knows the city will never be the same again.

He doesn’t feel sorry.

Astarion hates Baldur's Gate.

He hates these streets and these houses, these taverns and inns. The streets are full of homeless people and beggars. The whole city used to be his hunting ground. The whole place used to be a brothel. How many people of different races did he bed? How many times did he lie on his back or on his stomach while yet another ‘lover’ used his body to their liking? How many times did he use his mouth to go down on them?

Didn’t any of them notice he was already dead?

And how many times did he wish to die?

It’s still hard to believe it is all over.

He tugs the curtain just a bit to see the outside but not be burnt. They stay in the upper town, which was relatively untouched by the debris, but the place is too familiar for Astarion.

He can see the Cazador’s mansion.

It’s still there. Dark and empty. Even though many people lost their homes, no one dared to stay there, maybe, believing the lord and his invisible servants were still somewhere.

It looks like a menace, like a warning that nothing is over. Nothing will ever be over…

Nothing…

“Hello, love,” Tiriel mutters, elbowing up.

Astarion flinches and realizes it’s almost sunset outside. How long did he stay like that?

“You should have woken me up. Though I think I want to sleep for days,” she smiles. Her face is puffy, her hair is messy; she is the most beautiful person Astarion has met. “Can I kiss you?”

Astarion suspects he smiles like an idiot.

“You know you don't have to ask?” he murmurs.

“But I like to.”

Tiriel puts her palms on his cheeks and kisses him. For a brief moment, there is nothing but her warmth, her heartbeat, and her scent.

She breaks the embrace and Astarion adores her face. Freckles, deep wrinkles on her forehead when she smiles, her lips, her eyes (one blue, the other is green), half-elven ears – he still hesitates to tug them when she is in his arms, and, gods, her fire read hair that looks like a flame in the sunshine.

Pity he will never see her like that again.

Tiriel pulls away and looks out the window. Then, she frowns.

“Something on your mind, my love?” He touches her cheeks. She nods.

“Astarion, I need to go and do something. Will you be able to find me at sunset? You know… by…”

“Now that my vampiric abilities are back I can catch your scent even in that wretched crowd of a city. Don’t worry. I can always find you.”

“Great, because honestly, I am afraid to get lost.”

Tiriel pulls away, but Astarion grasps her arm. The very idea of staying in that room alone scares him.

He doesn’t want it.

“But can’t we do that together when it’s dark?” He pouts.

“Please, it’s almost sunset. You won’t regret it.”

Astarion feels torn apart. He is afraid Tiriel is going to leave him. What if she is scared of him? And wants to run away? What if there is a ship that will take her far away from him and she just has enough time to board it?

But if he keeps pushing…What if it makes her realize he is a lost cause? What if he is breaking something between them right now?

What if…

“Astarion look at me,” Tiriel asks and he realizes he’s been staring at the floor. “I am not going to leave you. I don’t want to break up. I’ve been telling you that every day since you returned to the shadows. I made a choice and I am not regretting it, at least, for now. I just want to do something – just find me at sunset, all right?”

“Good,” Astarion sits on the floor and takes a book. “I will try to occupy myself.”

Tiriel quickly puts on her clothes and leaves. Astarion feels her scent fading as she goes further away.

He must get used to it. He won’t be able to keep her all by himself the whole day long and she will have to go away from time to time. But it doesn’t mean he feels less lonely.

When it’s dark, he jumps on his feet and rushes outside.

Strange.

Her scent is still very close, though he thought she would be waiting for him in the Lower Town.

He covers his head with a hood and follows the path. Then he realizes …

… that he follows a way too familiar path…

It's the road to Cazador’s mansion.

The same narrow streets he used to walk returning back with yet another victim. Or without anything, knowing he would be flayed and beaten.

He stops hoping he’s mistaken, but Tiriel's scent leads him directly to the mansion.

But why? Why?!

He is getting angrier with every step he has to make. How dare she force him to come back? How dare she?!

Then he feels tears pricking his eyes. He has only recently started grieving his past and everything that was taken from him.

He finds Tiriel at the wooden tower. Its enchanted guardians left the place when Cazador died and now it is as empty as everything else.

Tiriel sits at the table and there is a sack at her legs.

“Hi!” She waves at him. “I’ve been missing you!”

“Why did you bring me here?” He demands. His voice betrays his emotion, he knows he sounds like he is about to cry.

“Well, first, I found some good prospects for us – so we can leave the city tomorrow and never come back. And second – you can cast ignis, can’t you”

Astarion raises his hand feeling how magic fire prickles his fingers. Yes, this spell was always his. It was something natural for him, a fey magic, but Cazador forbade him from using it. Because otherwise, Astarion would be able to warm himself. And now he can use it freely.

Tiriel smiles again and raises her hand. She inherited the same skill from her elven ancestors.

Create small balls of fire and throw them into enemies. The problem with Tiriel is the fact that when she is in her berserker state, she can’t concentrate on magic. So it’s more like a game to her rather than a weapon.

“So, I suggest,” she opens the sack showing a few dozen glass bottles. “We burn this place down! And if someone wants to punish us for arson, we are going to be far far away.”

“And what is that?”

“A gift from gnomes. Looks like water but burns like a spirit. This place will be set on fire with all its fancy stuff, beds, chambers, ugly paintings, dust, and whatever is left here.”

Tiriel laughs as if she is going to have the biggest fun in her life.

“I never noticed you were a pyromaniac!”

“Astarion, there are many things we need to learn about each other. And a new fact about me – I love burning things. I love setting places on fire. And I so much enjoy hearing you casting ignis. Makes me want you even more than I usually do. But” She closes the sack. “If you don’t want to, just tell me, and I will sell the potions at the market.”

Astarion lets out a laugh. Gods. He has been dreaming of burning this place down for centuries. Cazador couldn’t prohibit his thinking and Astarion liked imagining this place on fire. He often would imagine himself burning too, because vampires can burn.

But he has never said it to Tiriel.

But she knew he would love it.

Astarion takes the heavy sack.

“Yes. Let’s burn this fucking place down!”

Tiriel grabs his hand and makes him follow her into the dark halls.

One bottle for the room of the favorite spawns.

Two bottles for the chamber where Astarion had to sleep with his victims.

Three for the torture dungeon.

One by one they throw bottles in rooms and closets. Astarion rips the rugs and curtains, and Tiriel breaks the paintings and furniture.

A bottle for the tower of Cazador’s niece.

A bottle in Cazador’s wardrobe.

Astarion curses. And laughs. He dominates his own past and Tiriel encourages him to keep going.

“Oh look! The bastard had so much whiskey and wine! What for?” She says opening the wine cellar.

“For parties,” Astarion finds the most expensive ones and throws them on the floor. “And sometimes he would try to drink himself to numbness.”

“Watch out!” Tiriel grabs yet another bottle but Astarion jumps to her and snatches it from her hands. “What?”

“It’s Berduskan Dark. The most expensive wine on the Swords Coast.”

“And?”

“It costs 1500 gold at least!”

“You wanna sell it?”

“I don’t,” Astarion opens the cork. “It is dark, like blood, and sweet.”

“Like blood?”

“Yes,” he chuckles. “It has a very high alcohol content. Can knock out an ork. I wonder where he took it from.”

Tiriel shrugs. “You know I don’t like wine.”

“You just never tasted a proper one,” Astarion smiles. “Open your mouth.”

Tiriel obeys and sticks her tongue a bit. Astarion gently takes her head and pours wine into her mouth. The Berduskan Dark streams down Tiriel’s throat and along her chin, staining the shirt.

“Oh fuck,” she mutters gulping the wine. “It burns my tongue!”

“Yes, like it's supposed to. Keep drinking..”

Tiriel takes the bottle and takes a few more gulps. Astarion thinks maybe he should have offered her a goblet, but it’s too late.

She finished almost the whole bottle off.

“Fuck!” She slurs and almost falls off the table. “I don’t remember ever getting wasted so fast.”

“Good.”

“Oh…That was your plan! You wanted to taste Berduskan Dark!” Tiriel puts the cork back. But I do it only for you because I don't really like it!”

Astarion tugs Tiriel and kisses her wine-stained lips.

Then, he imagines himself in the same room mere months ago.

What would he think if he knew it was possible? To destroy that cellar, to kiss a person he wants, to get drunk together?

“What was the bastard's favorite place?” Tiriel asks.

“Come on,” Astarion takes her hand and leads her through the dark halls to the throne room. The black armchair made of dark wood looks ridiculous and pompous. “The bastard thought of himself as royalty!”

“But he was a moron. Neither the bhaalists considered him a target nor Gortash invited him to his coronation,” Tiriel falters. Now she is completely drunk.

Astarion pulls her to the throne and makes her sit on the soft pillows. Cazador’s pillows were made of some expensive fabrics – the ones that were supposed to always be clean.

“Can I bite you?” He asks.

“Of course.”

Astarion grazes her throat. He doesn’t care about the mess he is making. He wants to create a mess.

Tiriel’s blood spills over the throne and pillows and Astarion tastes alcohol. Then he suddenly feels happy. Darkness fades away, replaced by intoxication and satiation.

As for Tiriel's clothes, he will wash them. Or will get her new ones. Doesn’t really matter.

“Now we are both drunk,” she pouts.

Astarion almost falls when he takes the last bottle from the sack. Tiriel hugs him and starts murmuring drunkenly.

“You are so cute, you know that? And your ears stick so funny from your hair! You look like a dandelion!” She laughs as if it was the funniest joke she’s ever heard.

Asatrion smashes the last bottle and the fire and liquid mixes with blood.

Tiriel raises her hand, trying to cast a fireball.

“No!” He shuts her mouth. “Are you stupid? The whole place is soaked in wine and this gnome shit!”

Tiriel bites his palm. And then starts laughing and snorting.

Astarion grabs her waist and lifts her on his shoulder. She keeps laughing and insulting Cazador, calling him a miserable dork with no imagination.

“Like, he was immortal and powerful… But he didn’t bother to go hunting himself! What was wrong with him? I mean, was he afraid of people? Astarion, you fed him dirty drunk homeless idiots who haven’t washed in decades! And he was all right with it? I mean, I know there are idiots! But this is some new level for me!”

Astarion approaches the main door. Turns back. Sees the mansion for the last time.

“Burn in hell,” he says. “Burn!”

Then he opens the door with his leg and gets outside. They walk a few yards then he places Tiriel on the ground (she barely can walk by herself) and she immediately opens the cork of the wine bottle.

“You said you didn’t like it.”

“But you did.”

Astarion raises his hand and feels the fey fire prickling his fingers.

“IGNIS!”

A fire ball is thrown through the open door into the hall.

And the vampire mansion is set on fire.

Astarion watches the fire consuming his past, destroying his misery.

And he cries.

He cries out loud like a lost child, clinging to Tiriel as his source of comfort and warmth. And Tiriel drunkenly starts singing him a lullaby.

“Tsk. It’s all right, my love,” she whispers. “It’s all right. We are starting anew tomorrow. We will see so many places together that you will forget that mansion. And I will touch you so many times it will make all the dirt you’ve been through fade away.”

Astarion keeps crying as they walk back to the inn. And Tiriel, drunk and dizzy, falls asleep in his arms in their bed.

The touches don’t burn his skin and he doesn't feel disgusting. It's something new. Astarion turns back to see naked Tiriel napping on the grass. She sleeps shamelessly, her legs half open and the fresh bite mark barely healed,

Astarion knows it’s a reverie. A weird memory he doesn’t know how to feel about. It's the first time Tiriel was his. He kissed her, he hugged her, he had sex with her. It was all a game for him but something else for her.

The memories slowly set him free and he realizes Tiriel is still in his arms. She doesn’t sleep, that’s for sure, but she also doesn’t move, allowing him to relax in her embrace.

He reaches out for her ear and tugs it, forcing her to squirm.

“Half-elves do have sensitive ears!” he laughs.

“That was weird,” she mutters. “Do it again.”

“You don’t need to ask twice,” he repeats the same motion. “Are we leaving today?”

“Yes,” she puts her arms on his back. “And we aren’t coming back, love.”

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jesternlove · 3 months ago

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My Vellicaz fic, The Unethical Machine, archive of our own: now at about 115,000 wrds!

#bg3 cazador #cazador szarr #bg3 cazador szarr #cazador #bg3 cazador fanfiction #cazador fanfic #vellicaz #vellioth the martinet #bg3 vellioth #vellioth #vellioth/Cazador #prequel vellicaz

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seriiousgiirl · 5 months ago

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𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝕴𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖂𝖎𝖓𝖊.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓭!𝓐𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 — 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝐼𝓥⊹ ₊ ݁.

❛ You lied to me! I did. You poisoned me! I did. You said you loved me! I do. ❜

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱. ⊹ ₊ ݁. regency!au, strangers to lovers, slow burn, tension, mutual pining, angst, smut will happen later, lewd themes, corruption, age difference, forced marriage, gothic setting, dark themes.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

➜ ┊ a/n: I'd like to thank everyone who has supported this story so far, I never thought anyone would be interested. It means a lot. ♡

The doorbell rang, its sound resonating through the quiet halls of your home. You paused, setting aside the book you had been reading, your heart fluttering with a mix of anticipation and curiosity. Moments later, your maid appeared at the door of your sitting room, cradling a magnificent bouquet of red roses in her arms.

"These just arrived for you, miss," she said, her smile warm and knowing.

You reached for the bouquet, your fingers brushing against the delicate petals as you searched for the inevitable note nestled within. Unfolding the small piece of parchment, your heart skipped a beat as you recognized the elegant, flowing script. It was from Astarion.

My dearest Y/N,

Would you like to meet at the park later today?

Since the ball, your days have been filled with such enchanting surprises. Every morning, without fail, brought a new delight—a fresh bouquet of flowers, a beautifully bound book of poetry, or a heartfelt letter penned in Astarion's distinctive hand. Each gift is a demonstration of his thoughtfulness and growing affection.

Your mother, however, was less enthusiastic about this burgeoning romance.

She watched with a critical eye, her disapproval evident in the tight lines of her mouth and the occasional sharp comment. Yet, despite her reservations, you found yourself eagerly anticipating each new message from Astarion, each new opportunity to see him.

You turned to your maid, who was watching you with an expression of gentle amusement. "Would you help me get ready for an outing to the park?"

She nodded, her eyes twinkling with a mixture of approval and fondness. "Of course, miss. Let's make sure you're ready to meet your charming gentleman."

As she helped you dress, you couldn't help but reflect on the past few days. In his company, you found a rare sense of freedom and joy. Your conversations ranged from the profound to the trivial, from dreams and aspirations to the simple pleasures of life. With Astarion, every moment felt infused with a sense of possibility.

You could still recall the way his eyes would light up when he saw you, the way his voice would soften as he spoke of his thoughts and feelings. Each encounter deepened your connection, making you yearn for the next—making you yearn for him.

As you smoothed the last wrinkle from your gown, your maid stepped back to admire her handiwork.

She tilted her head slightly, a playful glint in her eye. "Do you think Lord Ancunin will match the colour of your dress today as well, miss?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

You couldn't help but smile at the thought. Astarion had an uncanny knack for matching his attire to yours, as if he knew exactly what you would be wearing each day. The lilac dress from the ball, the pale blue for your last meeting, and perhaps, the soft rose you had chosen for today. It had become a delightful, unspoken game between you.

"I’m hopeful," you replied, a note of excitement creeping into your voice. "He hasn't missed a single time yet."

The maid chuckled softly. "It seems he's quite taken with you, miss. Such attention to detail is not common."

Your heart warmed at the thought. Each meticulously chosen outfit, every thoughtful gift, spoke of a man who was deeply invested in your happiness. Astarion's gestures, grand and small, had woven themselves into the fabric of your daily life, making each day brighter and more exciting than the last.

"He's certainly different," you admitted, feeling a flutter of anticipation as you thought of the afternoon ahead. "And I think that's what makes this all so... wonderful."

The maid nodded, her eyes kind and understanding. "Well, let's not keep him waiting, then. You look absolutely perfect."

With one last glance in the mirror, you took a deep breath, feeling a sense of calm wash over you. Today promised to be another chapter in the beautiful story that was unfolding between you and Astarion.

As you descended the stairs, the bouquet of flowers still fresh in your mind, you couldn't help but wonder at how much your life had changed since you arrived in Baldur's Gate. The city, once so intimidating and foreign, had become a place of discovery and unexpected romance, and all thanks to Astarion.

You stepped out into the crisp air, the sun casting a warm glow over the bustling streets. The carriage was ready, and with a sense of excitement, you climbed in, eager to see what the day would bring.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

As your carriage rolled to a stop at the park's entrance, you could already see Astarion waiting for you. Even from a distance, his elegance was unmistakable. He wore a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, the fabric catching the sunlight in a way that accentuated his every movement. But it was the pale pink handkerchief tucked into his breast pocket that drew your eye—a detail that matched your dress flawlessly.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. The round sunglasses he wore were nearly opaque, casting an air of mystery over his crimson eyes, which you longed to see.

The coachman opened the door, and Astarion was at your side in an instant. He extended a gloved hand to help you down, his touch as gentle as always. "Good afternoon, my lady," he greeted, his voice smooth and rich with a hint of amusement. "Did you enjoy the roses this morning?"

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his thoughtful gesture. "They were beautiful, Astarion. Thank you. Each bloom was perfect."

He inclined his head, a pleased smile playing at his lips. "I'm delighted you liked them. They reminded me of you—elegant and captivating."

Your cheeks flushed at his compliment, and you were grateful for the momentary distraction of straightening your skirts. The park around you was serene, with pathways lined by tall, leafy trees and flower beds bursting with colour. It was a perfect setting for your rendezvous.

Astarion offered his arm, and you took it gladly, feeling the now-familiar thrill of being close to him and his muscles tensing beneath your palm. As you walked together, the hem of your dress brushing softly against the grass, you marvelled at how each of your meetings felt more special than the last.

"You seem to have a talent for always knowing what colour I will wear," you remarked, glancing at his handkerchief. "How do you manage it?"

He chuckled softly, the sound like a low, intimate melody. "Ah, a gentleman must have his secrets, my dear. But let us just say that I take great pleasure in paying attention to every detail about you."

As you continued your leisurely stroll, Astarion regaled you with stories of his recent exploits and observations of the city. His wit and charm were as captivating as ever, and you found yourself laughing and smiling more than you had in days.

"Your mother was quite displeased with me at the ball," he said after a pause, his tone shifting to something more serious. "I hope she has not made things difficult for you?"

You shook your head, squeezing his arm reassuringly. "She has her concerns, but nothing I cannot manage. Besides, she did say that I should most likely marry the one who will own our lands."

Astarion raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a sly smile. "Is that so? I need to win the lands, to win your hand? Well, I shall have to make a very compelling case then, shan't I?"

His words sent a thrill through you, the implications clear and yet wrapped in the playful banter that was so characteristic of him. The thought of Astarion owning your family's lands, of being tied to him in such a significant way, was both exciting and daunting.

As you reached a secluded bench nestled under a canopy of trees and flowers, Astarion guided you to sit beside him. The world around you seemed to fade and the serene atmosphere and his charming presence created a sense of ease and openness. However, the questions that had been gnawing at the back of your mind, particularly those raised by your mother, refused to stay silent.

"Astarion," you began tentatively, "can I ask you something personal?"

He turned to you, his smile reassuring and charming as ever. "Of course, my dear. You can ask me anything."

You hesitated for a moment, gathering your thoughts. "It's just... My mother has certain concerns about you. She thinks that if a man of your age and status isn't married yet, there must be a reason for it. She believes that no one wants you."

Astarion chuckled softly, the sound laced with a hint of sadness. "Ah, mothers and their concerns. I suppose I should have expected as much."

You felt a pang of guilt, regretting that you had to voice such a harsh sentiment. "I didn't mean to offend you. It's just... she's worried."

He turned to face you fully, his expression thoughtful. "Y/n, there's no need to apologise. It's a valid question, and one I should address." Astarion took a deep breath, his gaze drifting to the blooming flowers around you. "The truth is, my circumstances are... complicated. I have been focused on other pursuits, ones that have not left much room for marriage or family."

You watched him closely, sensing the weight behind his words. "What kind of pursuits?"

He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Business, mostly. And certain obligations that have demanded my attention."

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "Obligations to Duke Szarr?"

His eyes flickered with something unreadable before he nodded. "Yes. My association with Duke Szarr has shaped much of my life. It has been both a blessing and a curse."

You wanted to press further, to understand the full extent of his relationship with the Duke, but you sensed that now was not the time. Instead, you focused on the man before you, feeling a deep sense of compassion.

"And what about now?" you asked softly. "Do you still feel those obligations are more important than finding happiness for yourself?"

Astarion's gaze softened as he looked at you, his crimson eyes no longer hidden by his sunglasses. "Meeting you, Y/n, has made me reconsider many things. I find myself wanting something more, something genuine."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you couldn't help but smile. "I feel the same way."

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "Then let us take this one step at a time. Ignore the gossip and the doubts of others. We can create our own path, just you and me."

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief and hope. "Yes, let's do that."

But, subtlety Astarion's usually confident demeanour faltered, replaced by a palpable sense of unease. His gaze, normally sharp and captivating, now held a hint of vulnerability as he spoke. "Y/n, there's something important I need to tell you," he began, his voice soft yet tinged with regret. "If... if you were to marry me, we would have to live at the Castle of Duke Szarr. He's been like family to me, and he insists that we all reside there together."

You felt a mix of emotions at his revelation. The idea of living at the Duke's castle alongside Astarion filled you with excitement, but the thought of being under the watchful eye of the Duke added a layer of complexity to the situation. Nevertheless, your affection for Astarion outweighed any concerns.

"It's alright, Astarion," you said softly, reaching out to gently squeeze his hand. "I understand. Living at the castle with you sounds wonderful, regardless of the circumstances."

Astarion's eyes softened at your words, a flicker of relief passing over his features. "Thank you, Y/n," he murmured, his voice filled with gratitude. "Your acceptance means more to me than you know."

As Astarion spoke, you could sense a palpable relief washing over him, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders. It puzzled you how he seemed to view the Duke as an obstacle— if he was family, when it was perfectly natural for him to reside in his own castle if they were to be married.

Yet, you could guess there was a complexity to their relationship that you couldn't quite grasp.

Intrigued, you probed gently for more information. "Astarion, can you tell me more about your relationship with the Duke?" you asked, your voice soft with curiosity.

He hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to share such personal details. Eventually, he sighed, his gaze distant as he spoke. "The Duke... he saved me when I was at my lowest," he admitted, his voice tinged with emotion. "I was lost, alone, and broken. But he took me in, offered me sanctuary, and gave me purpose. I owe him a debt of gratitude that I can never repay."

Astarion turned towards you, his eyes softening as he reached out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. The intimate gesture sent a shiver down your spine, his touch both comforting and electrifying. "You have no idea how much you mean to me," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "You've changed my life in ways I never thought possible. For the first time in so long, I feel... free."

The sincerity in his words was like a confession, a man shedding his armour to reveal his most vulnerable self. You felt the full weight of his emotions, as if they were your own, your heart racing in sync with his unspoken desires.

As Astarion leaned closer, the air between you thickened, charged with a magnetic pull. You could feel the heat emanating from his body, a warmth that seemed to seep through you and pool in your core. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you leaned forward to meet him, the world around you fading to nothing but the sensation of his breath upon your lips.

Just as your lips parted and his were about to brush against yours, the sweet anticipation of your first kiss shattered. The sound of footsteps and a cheerful voice echoed through the park, and you both pulled back. Reality crashed down, the spell broken. Your eyes snapped open, meeting Astarion's, where you saw the echo of longing, rapidly masked by polite interest.

"Ah, there you are, Lady Y/N! And Lord Ancunin, what a pleasant surprise!"

You both pulled back abruptly, the spell broken. Your eyes snapped open to see an acquaintance approaching with a wide smile. The disruption was jarring, pulling you back into reality with a harsh jolt.

Astarion's expression quickly shifted back to brief anger and then one of polite interest, though you could see the disappointment flicker in his eyes behind his sunglasses. He took a deep breath, composing himself.

"Indeed," he replied smoothly, though his hand lingered on your cheeks, his thumb gently stroking the soft curve, for a moment longer before he let go. "We were just enjoying a lovely… conversation."

The acquaintance, oblivious to the tension they had interrupted, continued to chatter cheerfully. "It's wonderful to see you both here. Such a beautiful day, isn't it?"

You forced a smile, your heart still racing from the near kiss. "Yes, it is," you replied, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. You exchanged polite greetings with the acquaintance, though your mind was still lingering on Astarion's words and the kiss that had almost been.

As the conversation continued, Astarion subtly shifted closer to you, the tension between you was palpable, a charged undercurrent that neither of you could ignore.

Finally, the acquaintance took their leave, offering a polite nod before disappearing down the path. The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken words. Astarion turned back to you, his eyes searching yours. "I'm sorry about that," he murmured, his voice low. "I didn't mean to..."

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "It's okay," you whispered, your heart swelling with affection. "We were bound to be interrupted, eventually."

Astarion's gaze softened, his hand finding yours once more. "Still, I want you to know how much I care about you, Y/N," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "You've brought light into my life, and I can't imagine going back to the way things were before."

Your heart ached with the depth of his words, and you squeezed his hand gently. "I feel the same way, Astarion," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "You've changed my life too."

He smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that lit up his face. "Then let's make the most of the time we have," he said softly, his eyes shining with determination.

You nodded, your heart full as you leaned into him, ready to face whatever came next together.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Days had passed since your last meeting with Astarion at the park, but the memory of that near kiss lingered in your mind, making your heart flutter every time you thought about it. Today, you found yourself at an art exposition, admiring the beautiful paintings and sculptures displayed throughout the grand hall. The soft murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses created a sophisticated ambiance, perfect for such an event.

Beside you stood Wyll Ravengard, a charming and dependable friend you had met shortly after arriving in the city. His father was an old friend of your family, and your mother had made it abundantly clear that she viewed Wyll as the ideal future husband for you.

Despite your mother’s wishes, your heart was elsewhere, tangled up in thoughts of Astarion.

You turned to Wyll, a smile playing on your lips as you recounted the events at the park. "You won't believe what happened the other day, Wyll," you began, your voice filled with excitement. "I was at the park with Lord Ancunin, and... he almost… kissed me."

Wyll's eyes widened with surprise, and he leaned in closer, his curiosity piqued. "Really? Tell me more," he urged, his tone a mix of intrigue and genuine interest.

You sighed, your cheeks flushing slightly as you recalled the moment. "We were talking, and he was being so sweet and sincere. Then, out of nowhere, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. It felt so... intimate. He told me how much I meant to him and how I had changed his life. And then, just as he was about to kiss me, we got interrupted."

Wyll chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Seems like you two can't catch a break. But it sounds like he really cares about you, Y/N."

Your heart swelled at Wyll's words, and you nodded. "He does. Every time I'm with him, it's like the world fades away, and it's just the two of us. My heart was beating so quickly, I thought it might burst."

Wyll’s expression turned more serious, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "I can see how much he means to you," he said quietly. "But you know your mother has other plans."

You sighed, glancing around the room filled with elegantly dressed patrons admiring the artwork. "I know. She wants me to marry someone like you, Wyll. But my heart... It belongs to Astarion. I can't help how I feel."

Wyll placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, offering you a kind smile. "Follow your heart, Y/N. It's your life, and you deserve to be with someone who makes you truly happy."

His words provided a comforting sense of validation, and you squeezed his hand in gratitude. "Thank you, Wyll. I appreciate your support more than you know."

As you and Wyll continued to stroll through the art exposition, admiring the intricate brushstrokes and masterful sculptures, Wyll couldn't resist teasing you about your burgeoning relationship with Astarion.

"Speaking of plans, Y/n," Wyll began, a playful glint in his eye, "do you think Lord Ancunin might be planning to ask for your hand in marriage soon?"

You felt your cheeks flush with warmth, a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. "Wyll, don't be ridiculous," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your true feelings.

Wyll chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction. "Oh, come on. It's obvious how smitten he is with you. The flowers, the letters, the poetry books... not to mention that almost-kiss in the park. I'd say he's head over heels."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Maybe, but marriage? It's only been a few weeks since we met."

Wyll raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "And yet, in those few weeks, he's made more effort to win your heart than anyone else ever has, since you arrived. Besides, from what you've told me, he doesn't strike me as the kind of man who would waste time if he knew what he wanted."

You bit your lip, considering Wyll's words. "I suppose you're right. He does have a way of making me feel like the only person in the world when we're together."

Wyll nodded, his expression turning more serious. "Exactly. And if he makes you happy, that's what matters. Just don't be surprised if he gets down on one knee sooner rather than later."

The thought sent a thrill through you, and you couldn't help but smile at the possibility. "I suppose we'll see," you said, your voice soft with hope.

Wyll smiled, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Just promise me you'll invite me to the wedding. I'd hate to miss it."

You laughed, feeling a sense of lightness at Wyll's teasing. "Of course, Wyll. I wouldn't dream of getting married without my friend there."

As you and Wyll continued your leisurely stroll through the art exposition, your eyes were drawn to a striking painting hanging on the far wall. The artwork depicted a dark, gothic scene of a vampire feeding on a woman. The vampire's features were both mesmerising and terrifying, his eyes glowing with an unnatural light as he sank his fangs into the woman's delicate neck. The woman, in turn, seemed to be caught in a trance, a mix of fear and surrender in her eyes.

You stopped in front of the painting, studying the intricate details. "This is awfully realistic," you murmured, unable to tear your gaze away from the chilling scene.

Wyll nodded, his expression turning more serious. "It is. Vampires have always been a subject of fascination and fear. But this... it's almost like the artist has seen it firsthand."

A shiver ran down your spine. "Do you think it's possible? That someone could have actually witnessed this?"

Wyll sighed, folding his arms as he continued to gaze at the painting. "It's hard to say. Ever since vampires found a way to stand under the sunlight – despite the pain it causes them – it's become nearly impossible to catch them. They blend in, move among us, and strike when we least expect it."

You turned to Wyll, concern etched on your face. "How is that even possible? I thought sunlight was their greatest weakness."

He nodded, his expression grim. "It still is, to an extent. But there's a ritual – a blood ritual – that some vampires have used to build a tolerance to sunlight. It's dangerous and incredibly painful for them, but it gives them a significant advantage. The problem is, this ritual has fallen into the wrong hands."

You furrowed your brow, the weight of his words sinking in. "What do you mean?"

Wyll glanced around, lowering his voice. "There are groups out there, dark factions, that have been using the ritual to create more powerful vampires. Our security forces are struggling to keep up. Every time they think they have a lead, it slips through their fingers. The city is on edge, and people are scared."

The thought of vampires lurking in the shadows, almost indistinguishable from ordinary people, sent a chill down your spine. "That's terrifying. How do we protect ourselves?"

Wyll gave you a reassuring smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Stay vigilant, avoid dark alleys, and trust the people around you. And if you ever see anything suspicious, report it immediately. The authorities are doing their best, but they need our help too."

You nodded, feeling a mix of fear and determination. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Wyll."

He patted your shoulder gently. "Anytime, Y/n. Just be careful, alright? The world is a dangerous place, and we need to look out for each other." As you and Wyll continued your conversation about the unsettling topic of vampires, a familiar voice broke through your thoughts.

"What are you two discussing so intently?" Astarion's smooth voice asked, a hint of curiosity lacing his words.

You turned to see him standing behind Wyll, looking... different. His usually impeccable appearance seemed a bit off. For the first time since you met him, his handkerchief did not match your outfit. The mint green fabric stood in stark contrast to your crimson red dress. More than that, he looked tired, almost weary, as if something was weighing heavily on him.

Wyll turned, smiling at Astarion. "We were just talking about the painting," he said, gesturing towards the eerie artwork depicting the vampire feeding on a woman. "And the recent concerns about vampires in the city."

Astarion's gaze flicked to the painting, and for a brief moment, an unreadable expression crossed his face. He nodded slowly, then turned his attention back to you. "Vampires, huh?" he said, attempting a lighthearted tone. "Always a fascinating, albeit morbid, topic."

You couldn't help but notice the dark circles under his eyes, the slight slump in his usually perfect posture. "Are you alright, Astarion? You seem... different today."

He offered a faint smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just a bit tired, my dear. It's been a long few days."

Wyll, always perceptive, raised an eyebrow. "Is everything alright, Lord Ancunin? You don't look like your usual self."

Astarion waved a hand dismissively. "Nothing to worry about. Just some business matters that needed attending to. But tell me more about these rumours. Have there been any actual sightings?"

You exchanged a worried glance with Wyll before replying. "Not that we've heard, but the authorities are struggling. It's the talk of the city apparently."

Astarion nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed. It's a troubling situation. But let's not let it ruin our evening. We came here to enjoy the art, after all."

Despite his attempt to change the subject, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply troubling Astarion. As you continued to explore the exhibition together, his usual charm seemed dimmed, his laughter more subdued. You found yourself glancing at him more often than usual, searching for any sign that he might open up about what was bothering him.

After a moment, Astarion's voice broke the contemplative silence between the three of you. "Lord Ravengard, if you don't mind, I'd like to steal Y/N for a moment."

Wyll glanced at you and then back at Astarion, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "Of course, Lord Ancunin. I'll be fine on my own. Besides, I've got a few more paintings to admire."

As Wyll wandered off, Astarion extended his arm, and you linked yours with his. The two of you walked through the gallery, the hum of other visitors' conversations creating a low murmur around you. Once you were alone in a quieter section, Astarion turned to face you, his expression more serious than usual.

He turned to face you, his expression serious. "There's something I need to tell you," he began, his voice low. "The Duke Szarr will be coming to the city."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Why?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Astarion's jaw tightened slightly, and you felt the muscles under your palm tense as he continued. "It's mostly because of our relationship. The Duke wants to meet you."

His tone was neutral, but you could sense the underlying tension. "Is that... a good thing?" you asked cautiously.

Astarion's gaze flickered, a mix of frustration and protectiveness crossing his features. "He wants to see if you're... suitable. The Duke is very particular about those within his circle. Your presence in my life has attracted his attention, and he wishes to evaluate you personally."

The idea of being evaluated by the Duke was unsettling, and you couldn't ignore the way Astarion's usually composed demeanour was unravelling. "How do you feel about this?" you asked, your hand gently squeezing his arm in reassurance.

He exhaled slowly, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "In all honesty, I don't like it," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it's something we must face. The Duke has been a significant part of my life, and his approval carries a great deal of weight. I just... I worry about how this will affect us."

You reached up, cupping his pale cheek with your free hand. "We'll face it together," you said firmly. "Whatever happens, we'll deal with it."

Astarion's eyes held yours, a flicker of relief breaking through his tension. "Thank you," he murmured, leaning into your touch. "Having you by my side means more than you can imagine."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, but you couldn't ignore the unease that lingered. "What should I expect when meeting him?"

"He can be... intimidating," Astarion admitted. "He has a commanding presence and is used to getting his way."

The sincerity in his voice reassured you, but the thought of meeting the man who held such power over Astarion was daunting. "When is he arriving?"

"In a few days," Astarion replied. "I'll be there to introduce you. Just be yourself, and everything will be fine."

You nodded, though your mind was already racing with questions and concerns. "Astarion, is there anything else I should know about him?"

At your question, Astarion seemed to hesitate, his lips parting, but his voice got caught as he shook his head and offered you a small smile. "There's nothing important you should know about the Duke," he said, though the tension in his eyes suggested otherwise.

"But the Duke is... very particular about loyalty. He values those who are unwaveringly loyal to him, and he expects the same in return. It's important to show him that you are... committed."

"Committed to what?" you asked, a frown creasing your brow.

"Committed to our relationship, of course darling," Astarion clarified, his voice softening. "To the future we are trying to build together. He needs to see that you are serious about us, about being a part of this life."

The weight of his words settled over you, and you realised just how significant this meeting with the Duke was. "I understand," you said quietly, squeezing his hand. "I'll do my best."

Astarion's expression softened, his eyes filling with gratitude. "I know you will, my darling."

As you and Astarion strolled through the gallery, your steps eventually led you to a secluded corner where a rather lewd painting hung on the wall. The artwork depicted a passionate embrace, the lovers entwined in an intimate moment that left little to the imagination. You felt a blush creeping up your neck, your cheeks warming as you took in the explicit details.

Astarion, however, seemed quite intrigued by the painting. He studied it with a keen interest, his head tilted slightly as he examined the brushstrokes and the expression on the subjects' faces.

"A fascinating piece, isn't it?" he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "The artist has captured such raw emotion and desire."

You swallowed, trying to maintain your composure despite the heat rising in your cheeks. "Yes, it's... quite bold," you managed to say, your voice slightly breathless.

Astarion turned his gaze towards you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Bold, indeed," he said, his tone playful. "It makes one wonder about the inspiration behind such a work. Do you think the artist was merely observing, or perhaps... participating?" He asked, clearly enjoying himself.

The suggestion in his words made your blush deepen, and you glanced away, your heart racing. "I... I wouldn't know," you stammered, feeling flustered under his intense gaze.

Astarion chuckled softly, clearly enjoying your reaction. He took a step closer, his hand gently brushing against yours. "Art has a way of stirring the imagination, doesn't it?" he said, his voice low and velvety. "It can evoke such vivid feelings and thoughts."

You nodded, still avoiding his gaze, but the warmth of his hand against yours was both comforting and electrifying. "Yes, it does," you agreed quietly.

Astarion's fingers intertwined with yours, and he gently lifted your chin, urging you to meet his crimson eyes. "There's no need to be embarrassed, Y/N," he said softly. "Desire is a natural part of life, just as much as love and beauty. It's something to be embraced, not shied away from."

His words, combined with the sincerity in his gaze, helped to ease some of your embarrassment. You took a deep breath, feeling a bit more grounded. "I suppose you're right," you said, managing a small, shy, smile.

Astarion's hand left yours, only to gracefully trail up your back, hovering for a moment before settling firmly on your waist. With a gentle but insistent tug, he drew you closer, the warmth of his body brushing against yours in an intimate embrace. His other hand, bold and persistent, crept up to your neck, his fingers caressing the sensitive skin with feather-light strokes.

The intimate contact left you breathless, your heart thudding against your chest.

His voice, low and sultry, tickled your ear as he whispered, "You know so little about the true pleasures of the world, Y/N. It’s endearing." His breath fanned over your ear, sending chills down your spine, while his hand on your neck continued its teasing exploration. Astarion's words, combined with his touch, created an inferno of desire within you, leaving you physically and emotionally vulnerable— just like the last time at the ball.

His hand on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against his chest as he whispered, "Let me show you, guide you through the uncharted territories, the realms you've yet to explore."

You could feel the heat from his body, the intoxicating nectar of his words coaxing you into a world you had never entered, promising to experience the realm of sensuality. The air between you thick with possibility, the world around you fading like a mirage, as you found yourself entwined in Astarion's spell, the alluring sensations overwhelming and intoxicating.

Astarion's hand on your waist squeezed, urging you to lean into him, a world of sensations and experiences waiting to be discovered, the true pleasure of the world laid out before you, guiding you through the carnal landscape you'd only dreamed of. His touch coupled with his words, stoked the fires of your curiosity, the veil of innocence slipping away, revealing the raw desire, the primal cravings that were waiting to be unleashed.

Your face flushed, the weight of his words and intimate proximity overwhelming. You managed to stammer a response, "B-But... but we shouldn't... not in public, Astarion." Your voice was thick with embarrassment and, despite your reservations, the thrill of being in such a situation with the Duke's right-hand man.

As if to punctuate his intentions, Astarion's mouth found its way to your neck, his lips brushing against the tender skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You felt the whisper of sharp teeth, like fangs that teased your flesh, sending shivers down your spine.

Astarion chuckled, the sound vibrating against your neck, the sensation both thrilling and nerve-wracking. "I'll admit, I find immense pleasure in watching you quiver under my touch, Y/N," he confessed, his voice sultry and seductive. As you and Astarion continued to stand before the provocative painting, he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing in contemplation.

“Y/N, I have a question for you,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “What do you think is the difference between the woman's expression in this painting and the one we saw earlier, the one with the vampire?”

You glanced back at the lewd painting, then thought of the earlier, darker piece. “Well,” you began hesitantly, "The woman in the first painting... She is submitting to pure pleasure, her desire all-consuming. In the second, she is in pain, fear, and torment," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Astarion nodded, but his eyes remained fixed on you, just like his lips, a curious intensity in them. “Pleasure and pain,” he repeated softly. “Do you really believe that’s true? That these emotions are so distinct and separate?”

The question made you pause.

You turned to look at him, your brows knitting together in confusion. “What do you mean?” you asked.

Astarion's lips curled into a wicked smile, the intensity in his eyes piercing your soul. "Y/n," he murmured, leaning in, his voice a seductive growl, “Pain and pleasure can be intertwined, can’t they? Sometimes, what causes us pain can also be what we desire. And what we desire can be painful. Don’t you think?”

You thought about his words, the strange, dark truth in them. “I suppose... in certain situations, they can be connected,” you admitted, feeling a shiver run down your spine. “But they still feel very different, don’t they?”

Astarion’s eyes seemed to soften, yet there was a lingering intensity in them. He chuckled softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine, “For some,” he said quietly, “the line between them is very thin. Pain can heighten pleasure, and pleasure can make pain more bearable. It’s a delicate balance.”

You nodded slowly, understanding the nuance he was describing but still feeling a bit unsettled. “I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way before,” you said.

Astarion smiled faintly, his hand reaching up to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You have an open mind, Y/N,” he said. “That’s one of the many things I admire about you and make me weak for you.”

His touch was warm, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “Thank you,” you murmured, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks again.

As he let his hand fall back to his side after leaving a final kiss on your neck, he stepped back, giving you space. “Shall we move on?” he suggested, his voice returning to its usual lightness. “There are still many more pieces to see.”

You nodded, grateful for the shift in the conversation. “Yes, let’s,” you agreed, and together you continued your exploration of the gallery, the earlier conversation lingering in your mind like a whisper of something deeper and more profound.

As the evening drew to a close, you and Astarion made your way through the final rooms of the art exposition. The lingering warmth of his presence and the intensity of your earlier conversation hung in the air. Eventually, you found yourselves back at the entrance of the gallery, where Wyll was waiting by your carriage, ready to escort you home.

Astarion spotted him first and raised a hand in greeting. "Lord ravengard," he called out smoothly, his usual charm in full effect once again. "I hope you didn't wait too long."

Wyll smiled and shook his head. "Not at all, Lord Ancunin. I trust you both enjoyed the exhibition?"

You nodded, but your mind was already drifting to the inevitable parting that awaited. "It was wonderful," you said, your voice tinged with melancholy.

Astarion’s gaze met yours with a softness that made your heart ache even more. “I’ll contact you soon, Y/n,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. “We’ll arrange a time for you to meet the Duke.”

You nodded, trying to mask the sadness that welled up inside you at the thought of parting ways. “I look forward to it,” you replied, forcing a small smile. “Thank you for tonight, Astarion. It was... enlightening.”

He chuckled softly, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “The pleasure was all mine, I assure you.” His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he turned to Wyll. “Take good care of her, Lord Ravengard. She’s quite precious.”

Wyll nodded, his expression friendly yet protective. “Always do, Lord Ancunin.”

With a final, lingering glance, Astarion bowed slightly, taking your hand to place a lingering kiss at the back.

“Until next time, my lady,” he murmured, his voice like velvet.

You watched him walk away, the elegant lines of his black tuxedo as he seemed to blend into the shadows of the evening, disappearing from view.

Wyll offered his arm, and you took it, feeling the weight of your longing settle heavily in your chest. “He certainly has a way with words,” Wyll commented as he helped you into the carriage.

“Yes, he does,” you replied, your thoughts still on Astarion. “But there’s more to him than just words.”

Wyll looked at you with a knowing smile. “I can see that. Just be careful, Y/N. Men like him are often surrounded by mystery and... complications.”

You sighed, knowing Wyll was right but unwilling to let go of the connection you felt with Astarion. “I will,” you promised, settling into your seat. Leaving Astarion always felt like leaving a part of yourself behind, but you had no other choice.

For now, you had to be patient and wait for the next time you could see him, hoping it wouldn’t be too long.

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