CW: Blood and violence (as usual)
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Astarion dreaded the moment when you'd eventually wake up. He didn't want to be so close in proximity when you did, he wants to keep himself away and safe from your tender gazes.
When the Sun rose, Astarion rose with it. He waited for the Sun to peek its head above the horizon, just as he waited for you to wake up.
He lets out a content sigh as the sky transitions from a deep blue to a blazing orange, evidence of the morning light he now has the privilege to enjoy.
He stands there, a few feet away from your sleeping form, with arms outstretched from his sides, as he basks in the warm sunlight.
In these quiet mornings, Astarion finds himself a moment of temporary relief. A moment to remind himself that he has changed, for better or for worse.
With the sunlight tickling his pale flesh, he reminds himself that he's far from the clutches of his old master and closer to the freedom he so desperately craves.
All too soon, he hears your heartbeat quicken, the fabric of your clothes— which you were laying on— shift along with it. He hears a soft hiss emanate from your lips, and a sly smirk graces his features in response.
Your thighs hurt: your first thought as you sat up from the moss and your makeshift "bed" of clothes. The cool breeze of the early morning nipping at your skin was your second. Your third, well...
"Are those... scars?" You asked aloud in your grogginess.
Astarion sighs. He was prepared for this moment, actually. If he wasn't ready to share a figment of his past with you, then he would've put a shirt on to hide them. But, in a way, he was ready. He needed you to trust him.
"A gift from my master, Cazador," he spits bitterly. "He thought himself a poet, carving them into my back."
"Do you know what they say?"
"No," Astarion replies. "The bastard didn't even tell me or any of the other poor souls he used as a canvas."
Astarion doesn't see the pained look that crosses your features. You could only think how long they've been etched into his very skin, not even knowing what message they carry.
"I... It looks like it's written in a tiefling language..."
This catches Astarion's attention. He turns around, his eyes immediately searching yours for any sign of deceit.
He's relieved to find none.
"Infernal, you mean?" Astarion clarifies.
You slowly nod your head at him, and he only hums in reply.
This was too much. Too much emotion last night and too much information today. He's having trouble wrapping everything around his mind.
He feels trapped. He needs to breathe. He needs to flee.
"We better head back," he replies without any semblance of care in his voice. "The others would've noticed our abscence and you wouldn't want that, wouldn't you?"
You sigh. "No, I suppose not," you reply as you gather your discarded clothes. "You go ahead, I'll follow in a moment."
"As you wish," Astarion replies, picking up his nightshirt from the ground. He slips it on in one fluid motion then gingerly tucks its ends into his leather breeches, looking as pristine as ever.
YOU ARE READING
Oath of Vengeance || Astarion x Dark Urge!Reader
Fanfiction"I prayed to them all. None of them answered." Oh, but Bhaal, the God of Murder certainly did; and he was kind enough to send in his beloved child- you, a Bhaalspawn. - Hiya! This fic is based on my Dark Urge Paladin! Drow Tav playthrough where I'...
