Astarionfic Stories

She sees Cazador, beaten and broken on the ground. "...I know." The words finally break free from her tightening throat. Her eyebrows furrow just enough as she meets his eyes again, her jaw sets. "That's why I can't, Astarion." "...What?" The dagger held in his palm glistens as it turns. With a tilt of his head, he searches her eyes for any give but he knows her answer is... final. Done. He can't talk her into this, and that more than anything proves to be the first and final nail in the coffin. "Astarion, I need you to understand exactly what it is you're asking me to do. To understand why I'm saying no-" "No." His expression contorts just slightly, grip tightening around the dagger, nostrils flaring in a way she's seen many times - but never once directed towards her. "I understand completely." Elkyra can sense the line he just drew, a valley with it's connecting bridge reduced to glittering embers. The one she so carefully built, gone beneath her feet. ______________________________________________ This is an exploration of a headcanon idea I had, born from a bad dice roll.

(OC Dark Urge x Astarion) Before she was Caine, she was many things. A child marked by blood. A disciple of moonlight. A weapon forged for gods and kings. Then came a knife. Now the past is gone, leaving only a name and an ache she cannot explain. As forgotten memories claw their way back to the surface, Caine finds herself caught between the call of murder and the desperate hope that she can become something more than what she was created to be. But some ghosts wear familiar faces. And some monsters once told her they loved her.