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brabblesblog · 11 months ago

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Ch 20: Aeterna amantes

Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort?

This series is about Ban, my Tav, and the Vampire Ascendant. Will be angst and smut, with sprinkles of fluff.

This fic is a softer take on Ascendant!Astarion and of the changes he undergoes after the rite. Can Ban handle the change, and if a chance came, would she choose to run? And can the Ascendant win her back in time? Inspired by the concept of vampire wives and that IGN interview with Larian that discussed the ascension.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

The Ascendant and his consort celebrate their first year in style.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

Ban bid the last of the guests farewell, sighing in relief.

Finally. That had been the most fun she’d had at one of their parties - not that a lot of them had actually been fun, but still. She’d had fun, and that was wonderful, but she was glad it was over. She headed into the heart of the Palace, towards their bedroom.

Astarion had disappeared sometime near the end of the party, bidding the guests a rather loud and uncharacteristically boisterous farewell; saying he needed to prepare for something important.

She had watched from across the ballroom, rolling her eyes at his antics. He’d been obviously buzzed, which wasn’t uncommon during these events, but that boyish excitement was new and charming. There had been little doubt of what exactly was on his mind, seeing as his eyes had followed her the whole evening.

Ban opened the bedroom door to the sight of Astarion sprawled on their bed; one hand was under his head, pillowing it. The other hand seemed to have just finished unbuttoning his embroidered jacket and shirt - he grasped one side of the garment, as if in the act of peeling it off himself.

That gaze, however, told Ban this was all staged. He’d probably been waiting here since he left the party, anticipating the sound of her footsteps approaching the door.

Actual fucking idiot, Ban thought with fondness and no small amount of exasperation. She’d probably have to have the sheets changed, considering he was on them with clothes that weren’t the cleanest. All the same, she let herself admire the rather fetching view.

“Hello, darling,” Astarion purred, voice thick with arousal. He didn’t have to pretend, having spent the last twenty minutes absently touching himself through his clothes whilst waiting for her.

She couldn’t help it, she laughed as she made her way over to the bed. She sat beside him, patting his clothed thigh patronizingly; pointedly avoiding the bulge right beside it.

“Like what you see?” Astarion drawled. He traced a hand over his exposed torso, running across the peaks and valleys of muscle.

Ban’s eyes followed his hand’s path, unable to resist. The laugh died in her throat.

“I- well, yes, actually,” she managed to say, whatever quip she’d had in mind dissolving at the sight before her.

The smirk on his face widened. I’ve got her, he thought gleefully. His hand continued its path downward, stilling by his waistband.

“You can touch,” he offered, “if you’re a good girl.”

His hand hooked in the top edge, tugging one side down to reveal his hip bone. He looked up just in time to see her lick her lips; it only fueled the mischievous gleam in his eyes.

Astarion’s other hand moved from behind his head to palm himself.

“Fuck,” Ban hissed, eyes glued to his hand. He bucked his hips up to press himself against his palm and she nearly moaned. “Fine.”

Satisfied, Astarion abandoned his cock to tug down the other side of his waistband. Slowly, with his eyes fixed on her, he worked at his trousers, shimmying them down together with his underwear.

“More?” he asked, and at her all-too-eager nod, continued.

Ban swallowed as inch by inch of ivory skin was revealed, pearlescent in the light, and couldn’t help the slight watering of her mouth when he finally uncovered his cock. Pale as the rest of him, beautifully veined, delectably pink at the head - he was perfect. He reached in to gently free himself before tugging his trousers the rest of the way down, kicking them off.

She wanted to ask to suck, to feel him fuck her mouth, to swirl her tongue around that pink tip and taste that salty musk that was just him-

The thought derailed as she saw him curl long, delicate fingers around his hard length, gently stroking.

Astarion moaned, a loud, unrestrained sound that was a little too perfect to not be fictitious.

Ban immediately found herself remembering the similar sounds he had made in the earliest days of their relationship; worry flooded her, and the entire scene became significantly less appealing.

“You do know you don’t have to perform, right? You never do. Not with me.”

“I am completely aware,” Astarion replied, his eyes heavy-lidded and sensual. His hand continued to stroke his cock; it grew harder under his touch as his hips began to slowly roll in rhythm with each pass.

“I would like to, though. To… retake it for myself. To write over old memories with better ones. Performing with love, to heighten our mutual pleasure… it doesn’t feel the same. It feels… good.”

Just as he’d wished for tonight to help counterbalance Ban’s bad experiences with him, he wanted the same for himself, with his own unpleasant memories.

His gaze softened. “Come here,” he gestured, releasing his cock and reaching for her.

She acquiesced, shifting closer. Both of his hands slipped under her skirt, his touch warm against her undead skin. She shivered as he caressed her thighs and began slowly inching his way upward, finding the hem of her underwear.

“May I?” Astarion asked, smiling at her nod. He hooked his fingers into the top and gently tugged them down, slipping her underwear off with a practiced grace. He could smell her arousal on them, could feel just how soaked the dainty piece of fabric was.

Ban was a little disappointed that was the only thing he did while there, a small pout forming on her lips.

He laughed when he noticed. “A little more patience, love.” He tossed the strip of fabric aside.

“My, Ban. This wet for little old me?” Gods. He imagined her at the ball just walking around, soaked, thinking of him - wanting him. The thought stroked his ego a lot more than he would have expected it to. He took a deep breath.

“I suppose your whole seduction routine, as silly as it was, sort of worked,” she allowed sheepishly. Godsdamned Astarion, really. She’d never been able to resist his charms.

Astarion laughed. One hand wrapped around her wrist, tugging her closer. The other settled on her waist, guiding her to straddle him.

Ban lifted her skirt up and out of their way, settling directly over him, but stayed kneeling, keeping a small distance between them.

The proximity of her warm mound so close to his cock nearly drove all other thoughts from his mind.

“I thought you wanted to lead tonight?” Ban was confused, a byproduct of her relative naiveté when it came to sex. All the previous times Astarion had led, it had been similar things - him on top of her, behind her, or standing above her.

He found her inexperience endearing, but also vexing, considering that she didn’t even need experience to make him this weak for her.

“I am leading.” A soft, reassuring smile crossed his features. “Just not in the way I used to.”

In time, maybe they would try again, going rougher, with more aggression. For now, his goal was simply to prove her trust in him wasn’t misplaced.

Astarion knew this next part would be the hardest for her, but he hoped to make it enjoyable for her as well as himself. He slipped a hand under the pillows above his head, retrieving the dagger. He knew he looked a tad anxious, but powered through the potential awkwardness.

Ban went pale at the sight of twisting silver edges wrapped around a central wooden stake. Rhapsody.

Astarion saw her expression change, and quickly tried to soothe her.

“Ban,” he began, his jaw working as he tried to find the words to express his wishes. His hands gently placed Rhapsody’s hilt in her open palm, wrapping her fingers around the grip.

“I know we spoke of this before, and that you agreed, but… I want to reiterate. I want to retake this, too. It carved my back, all those years ago. It carved… Cazador’s back,” He forced the name out; he refused to let it have any more power over him. “It almost killed me. So please. I merely want to make a memory of this blade that doesn’t hurt to recall. If you don’t…”

The words died in his throat, but she understood. Her fingers tightened on the hilt. She looked down at him. He was so beautiful, positively breathtaking, but now she also saw the vulnerability behind the seduction. He was performing for himself, for both of them - trying to reclaim the pieces of themselves that they’d lost.

She nodded hesitantly. “I’m not going to break skin, though,” Ban murmured, easing somewhat. The dagger felt heavy in her grasp.

“I wouldn’t mind if you did, but we can save that for another day - or never.” He watched the blade glint in the light, swallowing. “Whichever you wish to do.”

Ban lowered herself, her folds finally settling atop his length; a shiver ran down his spine at the feel of her - so wet and warm - pressed against him.

“Now,” Astarion commanded, his tone shifting lower and harsher. “Grind on me.”

Ban registered the change. She obeyed, her hips rolling slowly over his cock. She was rewarded with a hiss; she could feel him begin to thrust as well, seeking more friction.

Astarion’s length felt velvety, hard against her clit, the perfect shape and girth to rub herself against. She slid over him as she sought her own pleasure, her slick spreading all along his cock. It felt good - almost too good, Ban thought, averting her eyes from his face to focus on his chest instead.

Nope. That didn’t help either.

Fucking Astarion, really. Too damned perfect for his own good. Or hers.

With every roll of her hips his cock dragged against her clit, eliciting a shaky moan from her. Astarion could hear for himself how wet she was, the sounds of her sliding against him were deliciously obscene when she ground down harder. The warmth of her made his hips snap up.

He stared greedily up at her, eyes taking in every inch. She was still dressed, but he found he didn’t quite care just yet. He noted the sheer want in her expression and smiled widely, his fangs peeking out.

Ban’s patience failed her, slipping the hand not holding Rhapsody down between them, trying to slip his cock inside her. His hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her before she could succeed.

A small whine of protest escaped Ban’s lips.

“Relax, darling. You’ll have what you want if you behave.” He used her words against her, smirking when she glared.

A little taste of her own medicine. He savored that small glint of anger; it only served to heighten his arousal. She rubbed herself faster on his cock in revenge, and the thought sputtered out of existence. He nearly took back what he’d just said. There was one more thing he wanted before he finally fucked her, however.

Astarion’s hand went back to his embroidered jacket and shirt, opening them further, leaving his chest fully bared.

“Right here,” he whispered, ghosting his fingertips over the dip at the center of his chest, directly over his heart. “The tip, Ban. Right here.”

Ban did as he asked, lowering the dagger with no small amount of hesitation; Rhapsody’s point hovered a few inches above his now-heaving chest.

Astarion growled. “Closer.”

She lowered Rhapsody even more, until the point touched his chest. Astarion could feel his heart pounding against its tip, the sensation sending another thrill down to his cock. The slick down there, the heat of her, was almost overwhelming; Astarion didn’t know how much longer he could endure this without giving in and fucking her senseless.

“So wet for me, Ban,” he murmured, “Such a good girl. Now, press down a little.”

Fingers, trembling ever so slightly, covered Ban’s on the hilt, guiding it. The blade depressed the skin; not enough to break it, but enough that he could feel the slight sting over his racing heart.

His other hand snuck down past her skirt and between her legs to wrap around his cock, stroking it twice. He held it steady for her.

“Go ahead then, love. Take what you want.”

She didn’t hesitate; she’d only been waiting for his permission. Ban shot him a wry grin; gathering up her skirt, shoving it aside.

Astarion temporarily released his grasp on Rhapsody to flap a hand at her, as if to say hurry up, and she made it a point to do everything slower.

Carefully, painstakingly lifting her hips up, Ban looked down along her body to line herself up. She kept herself there, the head of his beautiful cock just brushing her entrance.

Astarion’s hand rejoined hers on the hilt of the dagger. He could feel her warmth radiating against the head of his cock, nearly stealing away any sense of control he had left.

“Ban,” Astarion hissed, “Sit on it or I swear-”

She finally sank down, down into that blessed, wonderful feeling in one rapid move.

There was little resistance; Astarion felt himself sink in to the hilt, fully buried inside her. The sudden warmth and tightness around his cock brought a wild surge of pleasure, unraveling Astarion’s brain; his hand on Rhapsody jerked, cutting into his own chest.

It was a shallow wound, but it bled all the same. Ban didn’t notice at first, lost in the sensation of being spread open and filled. Astarion, impaling her with that beautiful, perfect cock; laid out before her like an offering to be devoured. Gone was her previous bashfulness - all that was left was wanton desire.

Then the smell hit her nose, the sharp, all-too-familiar coppery scent of blood mixed with the sweet notes that told her it was his, and her eyes snapped to him, a mixture of hunger and concern in her gaze.

Astarion smiled. “It’s okay.”

He gently took the dagger from her grasp, knowing that had been too much - too close to what had happened when he’d been injured. He flicked his wrist, tossing the Rhapsody off the side of the bed. He didn’t care where it landed. His hands settled on Ban’s waist, squeezing gently.

“Would be a waste of blood if we don’t at least use it, don’t you think? Lick.” He watched her reaction even as the words left his mouth. Any sign of discomfort from her, any hint of her retreating into herself, and he knew to end this little game. His hips began to roll, fucking her gently, a pleasurable rocking motion that he hoped would help in easing her.

But there was no distress. Ban’s mind was filled with nothing but him - his length moving inside her, his hands holding her, his blood pooling on his chest. And most of all, his eyes, which told her everything she needed to know. They seemed to whisper I love you. You can trust me. You’re okay.

He smiled, enjoying that his beauty so easily distracted her. “Ban. Lick.”

She leaned forward in response to his command and began to lick the blood from his chest. The taste of it, of him, sent a shiver of pleasure through her, causing her to clench around him.

He groaned, relishing the sensation of her squeezing him. He increased the pace of his thrusts, ensuring each roll of his hips dragged against her walls and hit her spot.

“Gods, Ban. You’re perfect,” he whispered, voice soft, the act all but forgotten.

She hummed in delight at his praise, pausing mid-lick to look at him, tongue still pressed against his skin, fangs glinting in the light. She smiled, a gesture that told him she was fine, that she was genuinely enjoying this.

The happiness and trust in her eyes made Astarion’s heart swell. He lifted his head to see her better.

“Take your clothes off. I want to see everything.”

Ban licked off the last of his blood and sat up. She felt for the hem of her dress, tugging it up with both hands. As she pulled the dress over her head she rocked her hips gently, grinding to match his pace.

She revealed her skin inch by inch, pale from undeath, though not as much as his. Muscles rippled as she undressed herself. She lifted the dress off and let it fall onto the bed, riding him without any pause or change in her rhythm.

His eyes raked over the lines of muscle as they flexed with every move, over the scars and moles and every single imperfection on her skin. Over her breasts, which were small and tight and just her, and all the more beautiful because of it.

She was the most magnificent thing he’d ever behold, he mused.

Astarion reluctantly forced his hips to still. It took more effort than he’d like to admit, the urge to blindly rut into her was far stronger than anticipated. Still, he wanted to make her work for it a little, to keep his little game going.

“That’s it, pleasure yourself on my cock, darling,” he cooed, eyes greedily taking in every inch of her, as if she might disappear on the morrow and he wanted to commit her to memory. He slid a hand up to cup her breast. She whined at the sensation and he squeezed - not too hard, but enough to bring forth a tantalizing mix of pleasure and pain.

Astarion’s other hand drifted lower, running down her belly and moving between her legs. He felt for her clit and began rubbing. Gently at first - a light flick - a move that was instantly rewarded when she tightened around him and rolled her hips particularly hard. Satisfied, he rubbed more insistently; the feedback to his touch was near instantaneous, her soft whimpers of pleasure urged him on.

That, and the wonderful way Ban clenched around his cock.

Slowly, inevitably, his desire to perform slipped away. What was the point? They were already in the thick of it; she was moaning out her need for him, her walls caressing him with every move, their desire mixing together in a way they had only ever done for each other. He was done playing.

“Love me?” Astarion murmured, a little unsure. He was glad that it no longer needed to be a command, no longer something he had to coerce from her. He merely had to ask, and it was his. Still, the slight uncertainty crept into his voice; he’d asked for this so many times and heard it back in just as many ways, but so many of those had been during moments of darkness - of anger, of desperation.

Then there had been Ban’s feelings - resignation, submission, apathy. It had torn at his heart, made him hate himself, stained everything like blood spreading through cloth. He longed, hoped, for tonight to be a step towards reclaiming this as well, towards cleaning the stains from the fabric of their relationship.

“Of course,” she said, panting a little. Ironic, Ban thought, that this was what he always asked for, because it was the one thing she always felt. Looking down at her husband, she watched his face - openmouthed and adoring - as she slowly rode the thoughts out of his mind. Seeing his hesitance as he asked for something so simple as her love had almost made her want to stop and just cuddle him.

Almost. His cock felt too good to stop.

“I love you. Always have. Forevermore will.” Words she had said in similar situations, but at times hadn’t wanted to utter, or hadn’t felt in those moments. As she said them now, she heard his breath catch; the hand lazily playing with her nipple went still. She could even feel his cock throb inside her at the same moment.

“Astarion?” She looked down at him with affection and slight amusement. It took a moment for him to lock eyes with her, his own gaze hazy with lust, his mind still basking in her words.

“I love you,” she repeated, smiling down at him.

Those words, repeated, were music to his ears; a low whimper left his lips. He was still fighting to keep his hips still, to let her keep riding him, but he was rapidly losing. His hips stuttered here and there, unable to deny the urge.

His thoughts were scattered between the feel of her enveloping him and the overwhelming devotion that was washing through him. Never again, he thought. I would rather die than lose this again.

Ban’s hips increased their pace. Seeing Astarion so obviously coming apart from just her words never ceased to excite her. It was always her he needed; even at their lowest, that had never changed. Being so wanted, so needed, brought a heady sort of satisfaction to her.

Astarion’s neck was beginning to hurt from the effort of holding his head up, but he didn't care. He needed to see her, needed to see the one person who had ever mattered to him, the only one he could ever enjoy this sort of touch from, her and only her alone-

The way she lifted and slid back down around him grew more intense; he could feel his own desire pressing against him more insistently, the beginning tendrils of that electric need to empty himself in her beginning to unspool from his cock out through the rest of his body. He fought himself for a few moments more, wanting to tease her for just a little bit longer, but the words slipped from his mouth unbidden.

“Do you want to come, love?” He wouldn’t ask her to beg; it was something he felt was too close to his old ways, and he refused to remind her of that right now.

“Yes, please,” Ban replied quickly, still frantically riding him. She wanted, needed more, more than his hand playing with a breast and fingers rubbing her clit. She wanted him to fuck her, but gods was he being obstinate.

He let go of her breast, slipping his hand to the small of her back while the other continued toying with her clit. He gently pushed her down, guiding her to lay on his chest.

“Let me do this for you,” Astarion whispered when her cheek made contact with his chest, kissing the top of her head. “Just listen to my heart and allow me to pleasure you.”

Let me do what I should have been doing long ago. Put her first - her needs, her wants. Give her the love she deserved. When he’d first ascended he had tried to fuck her broken pieces back together, throwing every single trick he knew at the problem, but he’d since realized that he’d been doing it the wrong way around.

He only ever really needed to be himself to make her happy; a truth he had once known and lost sight of. He offered it every day now, regularly bared his heart and soul to put her pieces back together. But even then it was no guarantee. It could still be too late.

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

He held her tightly to him in a one-armed embrace. Placing his feet flat on the bed, Astarion began to snap his hips up into her, hard and fast. She moaned; he could feel his blood rush, his pulse racing from the effort.

“For you,” he murmured, hand and hips working diligently. “Only you.”

Astarion’s hips and fingers worked in concert, stroking her just the way she liked, hips angling so that every stroke caressed that secret spot inside her that only he knew. He closed his eyes, focusing on feeling her reactions, listening to her breaths, eager to bring her to paradise.

The blood-red sheets were silk satin, gorgeous but oh-so-slippery. He fought to keep his feet firmly planted where he placed them. The tension in his legs made him grunt and they slowly began to tire from the effort required to keep himself ideally positioned for her. A slight burn set in, but he didn't relent.

“Astarion-” she gasped. She was still trying to grind down onto him, but her movements were weak and irregular, her body completely taken over by his ministrations. She didn’t even know what she wanted to tell him - that she loved him? To go harder, slower - a different angle?

To tell him how good it felt, to have him inside her, filling her and stretching her with every stroke? How intimate it was to hear his heart roar for her, only her? How amazing it was, that he knew exactly how and where and when to touch her? All this, she thought, and more. So much more.

“I- I know. I love you,” he whispered to her, gliding his hand across her skin from her clit, over her hip, to her ass. He gripped tightly as he slammed her down onto his cock hard, in rhythm with his thrusts. He continued pistoning upward, his own desire threatening to overwhelm him. He held back, biting his lower lip. Not yet.

He stilled, hoping to regain some composure, to last longer. Ban whined, rolling her hips insistently. It almost shut his brain down and he growled, the hand on her ass squeezing hard in warning.

“Wait.” He took a breath, needed a moment to focus on something else - anything other than her and the overwhelming need to come. He could feel his cock twitching, begging for the friction to resume. Ban stopped moving, thankfully; he opened his eyes, meeting her gaze. He quickly stretched his legs before repositioning his feet. He began to thrust up again, hammering into her relentlessly.

The sensation of his cock stretching and fucking her mercilessly, the head dragging against her walls, slamming into her spot again and again, in combination with the sound of his heartbeat thundering in her ears, sent her over the edge.

Ban finally came with a loud cry, fisting her hands into the sheets. He felt her walls flutter around him, the familiar squeezing and clenching very nearly finishing him off as well.

He held her close as she rode out the waves of her ecstasy, peppering small kisses to the top of her head and rubbing her back with fingers that trembled.

When she finally quieted, she lifted her head from his chest. She was met by soft, affectionate eyes. “Did you…?”

Astarion shook his head. “Not yet.” He was still buried in her, cock twitching, legs tense.

Ban frowned, confused. “You seemed close. Why didn’t you come?”

He smiled softly. “I wanted you to finish first.” He brought a hand up to tilt her chin, pressing his lips against hers. The kiss wasn’t insistent, but it still intensified his need.

Astarion flipped them over mid-kiss, pinning her underneath him. He rested on his elbows, looking down at her. His curls were a mess, hanging over his eyes.

Should’ve started with this position, he thought.

She giggled a little, amused by the sudden change. He could feel her smile against his lips. Breaking the kiss, he shifted down to mouth at her neck. He pushed her leg up with his right knee, spreading her legs further apart, allowing himself to sink deeper into her.

Astarion parted his lips, pressing his fangs against her skin - a gentle touch, waiting. She didn’t protest.

“Ban,” he murmured, “May I?”

She laughed. “Thought you were leading?” She bucked her hips playfully and he was immediately on edge again. He growled against her neck.

“I was,” he replied, then sighed, the fight leaving him. “Obviously, I lost the thread a little.”

“No, not really. You’re just having too much fun, Astarion, that’s all.”

He chuckled and nodded. “Hard not to, with you.”

Repositioning his mouth against her pulse, he tried again. “So, Ban, again, since you were too distracted to give a proper response the first time I asked. May I?” That, he thought, should work better. A little more edge to it, although definitely nowhere close to what he’d envisioned for tonight.

Not that he minded.

“Yes, you fool.” She ruffled his hair, and he sighed in exasperation, finally sinking his fangs into her neck.

He moaned as her blood gushed into his mouth - the flavor he cherished above all others, and always would, regardless of anything else he would taste for the rest of his life. He gripped her thighs, holding them in place. His hips resumed their movement as he fed, driving himself into her hard and fast and deep, the taste of her blood fuelling his arousal. Her on his tongue, all around his cock, in his arms. Her love for him. Today and tomorrow and forevermore-

Astarion came with a low growl, eyes squeezing shut, hips losing their rhythm and stuttering as he finally spilled inside his wife. He rode out the waves of his orgasm, smearing a little of Ban’s blood by accident as his mind went blank and his fingers dug into her skin.

When he finally came back to himself, he realized Ban was whispering to him, her hands stroking his hair.

“I love you,” she repeated, her fingers trailing through his sweat-soaked curls.

He licked off the spilled blood, going boneless on top of her, exhausted. He smiled into the crook of her neck, happy. Hers.

“Did you enjoy that, love?” Astarion asked later as they sat together in the tub, bathing and basking in post-coital bliss. His back was facing her chest as she washed his hair.

He should be enjoying himself, but he couldn’t stop the wisps of doubt from wriggling into his mind.

What if I scared her? Didn’t do well? Reminded her of things she’d rather forget?

“I did,” Ban said, massaging the shampoo into his hair. “It’s been a while since we did it that way, and, well…”

“Well?” He raised an eyebrow. “Well what? Did it feel good? Was I… Did I…”

“Do well?” She leaned forward to hug him. “You did wonderfully.”

“Of course I did.” He puffed up his chest, outwardly smug, attempting to hide the nervousness behind the bluster. “I know your body even better than my own.”

True, of course. But that hadn’t always been enough. He hadn’t always used that knowledge solely for her pleasure.

“And you, Astarion? Was it good for you?” Ban asked, resuming caring for his hair.

“Better than good.” He paused for a moment, searching for the right words. “You gave me your trust again. That’s… that’s all I wanted, really.”

“But the sex was decent too, of course,” he added quickly, effortlessly dodging her hand as she playfully attempted to smack him.

“Ever think we’d end up this way?” Ban’s voice was quiet, looking at him as they rested together in the darkness.

Astarion considered the question.

“Had I not done what I did? Yes. But I did do it. Therefore… no.” He reached for her, and they turned onto their sides, curling up together with her back to his chest.

“We became bitter and twisted, and falling into that was terribly easy to do.”

She considered his words. “Fair. And getting here was-”

“Exceedingly difficult, yes,” Astarion finished for her. “There’s still more work to do, you know.”

Ban nodded. “I know.” She felt a small pang of guilt for not being quite there yet.

“Don’t,” he said sharply, “I know what you’re thinking - so don’t.”

She didn’t answer, and that familiar dull ache began in his chest. He sighed.

“For what it’s worth, Ban, you’re worth the work too,” Astarion offered, “And no matter what happens now, I’m just glad it’s with you.”

She twisted in his arms to face him, pressing their lips together in a gentle, affectionate kiss.

They fell asleep tangled in one another’s arms.

There was still a long way to go - relearning each other, rebuilding what they’d once had, forging a new path forward. There were old wounds that still needed healing, wounds that needed a careful hand to avoid reopening. And there would always be fresh trials and new challenges to overcome.

But if they stumbled, if they fell, they would always have one another to hold onto.

Finally, the future felt bright.

Astarion rested peacefully throughout the night. Here in the heart of his palace, in the center of his power and earthly possessions, he held the only thing that truly mattered. Her.

When dawn arrived, Ban opened her eyes. A shaft of sunlight peeked through the gap between vermillion curtains, shining on her face. Her hand moved, reaching for the space beside her before she stopped herself. There was no need to check. There never would be.

An arm reached back, wrapping around her waist.

He was here. And he always would be. Eternally.

As would she.

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etruatcaelum · 2 months ago

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Not random, she thinks, eyes gleaming as she watches him place his marks. The first among the settlements strung like along that thrice-cursed sliver of fertile country, jotted indifferently here in the thin gap between the knotted whorls of the Palash hordes and the cobweb mazes in the northern mountains.

(Ghosts of Lux Aeterna linger even now, in the crooks and jags of the leys. Old paths where ancient grimm once retreated warily from the kingdom’s borders. The last traces of the feast, after Ozma had died and she fled to entomb herself beneath the mountains. Regret pierces her like a lance, but Salem breathes in, and out, and she is past–)

But his second mark is deep in grimm territory, and although Arthur’s semblance had carried him farther than she would have guessed… The lines of ink snaking through his circle flow northward, braided in an ever-changing yet unbroken pattern well into the icebound wastes of Solitas. Mouth crooking up in satisfaction, she hums, “Well.”

It’s no definitive proof, but she is, at the least, on the trail of a genuine possibility.

“I do not,” she says languidly, “believe the expression of a semblance is ever random. The apparent absence of reason does not mean there isn’t one.”

She pauses, contemplative.

“Your determination to escape provided the necessary spark for your semblance to coalesce, but—it is as you say, it takes you nowhere without a clear destination. I’d wager that is always true. Think of a door that may open only if you know where it leads. If you intend to reach a certain place, then there is no great difficulty; the door answers to you, as long as you’ve enough aura for the journey. But what is to be done if you must pass through that door, knowing only that somewhere is preferable to where you are now?”

Her fingertips tap a soft, syncopated pattern along the edge of the table. “Every obstacle creates a choice to stop, to go through, or to turn—under, over, around. If immediate danger prohibits the first, and lack of raw power forbids the second, then… hm. Here–”

Salem touches one of the leys passing through his circle with the point of her claw.

“—these are ley-lines made by the grimm,” she says. “What I… spoke of before, the soul, the nature of its relationship to the self… is not mere spiritualism.” Best to keep private her feeling that Arthur suffers from an acute spiritual deprivation; though her tone betrays an undercurrent of humor. “Nothing is truly separate. Faced with this—door you couldn’t open for want of a conscious destination, I’d wager your semblance turned down.”

Nudging the map aside, she taps the bare stone countertop and says quietly, “They’re near enough to the surface here that you’ll be able to feel them, if you raise your aura. It may help to close your eyes.”

(–only just, Elah had told her once, long ago, when she brought him into the heart of the Coldfire horde and asked him curiously what he could feel: I imagine mirages would feel like this, if you could hold one in your hand.)

Eyes half-lidded, Salem goes on, “Grimm do not think inside of themselves, as humans and faunus do. The leys are… thought. Memory. The pathways of intention. Ours reach from the southern coasts to the northernmost archipelagos, and east all the way down to the basin of the Tarth Sea. No other horde is so vast, but the leys commingle wherever there is a shared boundary.”

The map, again; she traces the braided line down from Atlas. Dryly, “It is dust. In… function, not unlike konurgic wiring. You landed here—this is grimm territory. Had you gone a little further south–” a tight whorl of lines, like a maelstrom, no more than a finger’s breadth away from the outer edge of Arthur’s circle. “That is a nest. I would surmise the intensity of your desire for a safe place cause your semblance to grasp for… direction, and it cleaved to the intent of a nearby horde.”

She cocks her head, eyeing the map for another moment. Then: “If that is what happened, you might be able to travel greater distances with less aura by following ley-lines. Like a bird rides the wind.”

"I see."

He won't voice the next question that forms - and what if the boy decides not to separate? how will your plans change then? - simply because he can't fathom the idea of wanting to lose your identity to that of some soul-hopping parasite. Still, it might be worth at least partially pondering, and so-

"Provided it won't come at any danger to you, regardless of what Oscar or even Ozma decides to do while you're in the boy's mind, then entering it and using your Semblance to separate them seems worth a try."

At the very least, it seems the only way to do it, at the moment, unless they took a page out of Polendina's book - which didn't seem likely, seeing as Watts would be loathe to do it on principle and Salem herself seemed to find Polendina's research to be a travesty (which, of course, it was, although her reasonings for finding it as-such differed from his).

At any rate, he stops looking at her petri dishes full of fungi and quirks a brow.

"You have a hypothesis on my Semblance? I wonder..."

Well...Why not. The more he came to understand it, the better, after all, and maybe her theories would coincide with or even illuminate his own.

And so, he approaches her map.

"Let me see...Well, to start, here's where I left Daniella. Some- quaint little town on..."

A deep breath.

"Southern Anima."

The last two words are barely a whisper. The fact that his power had carried them clear across the map had been startling. A good thing, of course, because they would have frozen to death if he hadn't, but - such a staggering distance traveled on instinct bodes poorly for what might happen the next time his Semblance should...

Act on its own accord.

He pushes the thoughts down, looks at the map again. It's far easier to backtrack from there and figure out where he'd teleported to than it is to start with the landing zone of that initial teleportation. Just do some math, figure out how long it had taken them to get to the little town from wherever they'd ended up and how much ground they'd managed to cover in a day...

"Here," he murmurs, circling a spot. "Somewhere- around here, probably. It was a- field. There wasn't any- snow, so- I knew in an instant that it wasn't Solitas."

For some reason, talking about his Semblance always feels so unnatural. Always so hard to piece the words together. Fragmented.

"...We're lucky there wasn't snow. Being in the middle of nowhere in a forest is dangerous enough, but in our condition, the middle of nowhere in the dead of winter would have been fatal. And with trees around, it was easier to get up high and get a sense of direction."

Which had been Daniella's job - it went without saying that Arthur Watts had never climbed a tree in his life.

"...Ah! Before you ask, no, neither of the points I circled are places either of us had ever been to before. It was completely random."

#LEGENDS AND FAIRYTALES ( ic. )#THE MOON ALSO IS MERCILESS ( ic: salem. )#SO DAWN GOES DOWN TO DAY ( alt. v: rnsm. )#jocundcompany

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