Her Pretty Little Throat : An Ascended Astarion Fan Fiction

Astarion

I can't help but stare at her, transfixed.

There's a joy unfurling in my chest, an emotion so deep that it cuts like sadness.

Amara is fast asleep on the sofa, tangled up in one of my velvet blankets, while her hair is splayed across the pillow like a halo. It feels right to have her there, as if she just fell asleep while I was looking over a few records. I can see her fitting so easily into this life.

I think of stealing her away during a party, as I did last night, with a plate of food and wine, just to recount the day and indulge in each other. Talking about nothing until the sun meets the sky. She could read me the whole bloody library for all I care; I just want to hear her voice.

I wanted nothing more than to devour her last night, though I knew better. My knuckles still carry the memory of clashing against muscle and bone, and my body was wound tight with adrenaline and anticipation. If I allowed myself to slip, I would have lost myself in her, my pleasure not sated until it crested towards pain. I need her to feel me in her bones for days to come. To carry a reminder of how our bodies join in the most delicious ways. Mark her so others know not to touch her. I had to remind myself that she is still mortal.

Still . I think. As if it's a foregone conclusion that she will allow me to turn her. To think that she might want to share an eternity with me after such a short time. I wonder if she would still want me if she knew how dangerous it was to be so close. If she knew of everyone who wants to kill me when I am not lining their pockets or satisfying their desires.

I stare at her for a moment longer, burning the image to memory just in case. Her taste and scent could sustain me for another couple hundred years if that is all I'm allowed. With the Wizard's Enclave meddling in the background and the man that attacked Amara last night, sharing in a future together seems precarious at best. My little thief still holds a great many secrets that I must discover, and I know exactly who to ask.

I push off from the side of my desk, crossing the distance in a few strides to where Amara sleeps. I tuck a single tendril of her brown hair behind her ear and lean down, brushing a kiss against her temple. I can almost feel my heart constrict when she lets out a soft murmur in her slumber, lifting her head and settling back against the soft pillow.

"You will be the end of me." I mutter under my breath, swallowing down the emotion that she stirs inside of me. The way her body heat lingers on the pads of my fingertips begging for more contact. I want to lean and wake her with a kiss, settling myself between her hips and making love to her slowly and tortuously. Pulling every strangled gasp and feeling every shake of her legs as they're wrapped around me.

I pull my hand to my side, flexing it and shaking it, as if the motion would untangle the thoughts in my head. I need to redirect this energy. I can feel myself coiled way too tight.

The silence of the palace settles over my shoulders as soon as I walk out into the hall. I realize how late it has gotten; it's not long until the sun will rise. I must have been watching Amara for a lot longer than I thought. I don't have much time until she wakes up, so I need to make this quick.

I can still catch the subtle hint of sex and blood in the air, though it seems that most of the guests have retired to a room or gone home hours ago. The halls are empty, and I can't even hear anyone working in the kitchens behind me. No one would be able to bat an eye if I were to slip down into the dungeons to pay Amara's attacker a visit.

I feel the strong surge of magic before I see the flash of blue light spill from the library. Within a breath, it's gone, but the tang of the weave remains thick on my tongue.