Chapter Text
“Are you fucking kidding me, Astarion?” Tav asks, face twisted in shock. “You want me to be your spawn?”
The newly Vampire Ascendant makes a face, dusting his blouse off with a lazy hand. The stars glitter above as they stand along the docks of Baldur’s Gate. “Don’t use that filthy word. Turning you into an immortal being is what I’m doing.”
“I’m a half-elf, Astarion. I’ll live a few good centuries.”
“It’s not enough. I deserve more. I deserve forever.”
“You just became an ascended vampire—received powers men can only dream of—and you want more?”
He chuckles. “I want you, my darling.”
Tav crosses her arms. Moonlight glows upon the water, making everything seem more serene than it is. “You’re out of your mind. We have the brain to take care of. I can’t be adjusting to a new body during a war.”
“Fine, then.” He waves a hand, staring out at the sea. “The day the brain falls.”
“No,” Tav says fiercely. “I don’t want to be a vampire. Would you choose being a spawn, if you could?”
“Darling, you wouldn’t be my spawn for long. It’s only temporary.”
A shiver runs down her spine. She doesn’t recognize Astarion in this moment. The man she loved would never do this to her, never ask this of her. And her gut is telling her something far worse—that he won’t keep his word.
The biggest threat to a vampire is another vampire.
“You’re drunk off of power. Come on, we have things to discuss.” She begins walking away, strutting down the docks and back toward the Elfsong.
Brick kisses her back as Astarion pushes her up against the wall. “My lovely darling,” he says softly. “Why do you look down upon being mine? Think of it.” He takes her wrists in his hands and presses them against the wall. His lips hover over hers. “I will never leave you. I’ll cherish you forever, every single day.”
Tav scoffs. “Astarion—”
He kisses the corner of her mouth, and his rosemary and bergamot scent amplifies. It muddles her senses. “I will pamper you, my sweet thing. You will only need to sleep in our gracious bed and let me have you every night.”
Tav’s face heats, her blood warming at his words. It has been a long time since they were intimate. So very long.
He intertwines their fingers, kissing her lips lightly. “You wouldn’t need to lift a finger. Only to open your mouth.” He kisses her again, “for blood.” Another kiss. “Wine.” Another kiss, deeper this time. “And for my cock.”
She can feel him hardening against her hip, and she lets out a noise of need.
“Haven’t you been wishing for this since you were a girl?” he whispers against her lips.
Yes, she has. Her dreams had been filled with love, desire, and longing.
But something darker twists in her gut. “I want nothing more than to stay with you,” she says, kissing him this time. “As yours. As a half-elf.”
Astarion’s posture immediately changes. It stiffens, his entire body feeling like stone. His maroon eyes flicker dangerously. “I need us to be vampires, darling. It’s the only way.”
With his body against hers, and his mouth tracing a line down her neck, she realizes—he doesn’t love her. He can’t.
And if she stays… she will lose herself forever.
────•⋅⊰♥⊱⋅•────
6 Months Later
Tav came here to be remade. Or, at least, to remake her dress.
It had been her mother’s. The nicest thing she had ever owned. It is a burgundy dress with dark green lining. The silk underneath was worn thin, and the stitching is frayed. Tav isn’t trying to turn it into something new. She only wants to improve it.
“Arms at your side,” the tailor instructs.
Tav does as she’s told, her worn boots planted on the stone. The tailor circles her. He is an older man, human and quiet. He touches like it means nothing, hands going around her waist, under her breasts, correcting and aligning.
“Stop tensing.” A pin flashes between his fingers. Pain flares where he sticks her with it.
She hisses, shoulders jerking.
The tailor straightens. “The silk is a mess. I’ll fetch the new lining,” he says, turning away. The curtain falls quietly behind him, leaving her alone in the private room.
Tav lets out a breath, lifting her head to stare at her reflection. Gods, she’s seen better days. From the lobby, she hears the shrill laughter of Shadowheart, probably joking with Lae’zel.
The city is throwing them a gala. Heroes deserve finery, apparently. They are set to be honored tomorrow night. And Tav barely has a thing to wear.
Six months ago, Tav hadn’t cared if the city had stayed burning. She and Astarion had parted ways after the fall of the Netherbrain. The sun had risen from the smoky clouds and lit up his pale face. Those rays would never harm him again.
But what broke her heart was that she was the one who had stepped away. She had to. She’d come too far to be a pest under another maker’s shoe. Her husband had held her in chains. Raphael had tried to sell her around. And she killed them both. Without Astarion’s help.
She doesn’t need him. But, gods, she wants him. And the closer she gets to his streets, the more her feet want to walk home to him.
Tav has spent the past several months with Shadowheart. Lae’zel has been popping in and out of their lives, flitting between the Astral Realm and Faerûn. Shadowheart has mostly devoted her life to traveling to places of Shar and finding little girls who’d been corrupted—freeing them and setting them on a new path.
Tav barely said a word in the time that passed. She spends her nights wide-awake, forcing herself to guzzle wine until she passes out.
Has she made a mistake? Astarion must care for her—he has to. He’d never fully expressed it. Not even when she confessed that she loved him. But she knew his old self must be hiding behind the mask. Unless the mask had been removed—and this is who he was all along.
The curtain rustles. The tailor kneels, nudging her ankles until she spreads her legs.
The mirror is too clean. Too reflective. Tav stares at herself, seeing a freckled woman, no longer a girl. Yet she feels like a tortured version of herself. Someone lower, dressing up in finery she doesn’t deserve. What has she truly done for Faerûn? She’d been unfaithful to Wyll, fucked a vampire for weeks, and spent most of her time thinking about herself.
Yes, she’d been the one to drive the blade through Raphael’s heart, rage-killing him when he tried to steal her away and deliver her to her husband. She’d been the one to wrap one of the Emperor’s tentacles around his neck, silencing the bastard forever. She’d stopped Gale from sacrificing himself. She, instead, helped him cast the final spell to end the Netherbrain.
She did it all while Astarion was on her mind. In the end, she did it only to distract herself. A fraud. That’s all she was. And she didn’t deserve praise or recognition.
“Wider,” the tailor demands. Tav shifts without a word. The man runs a measuring tape up her legs, his touch sliding along her bare skin. This time it is slower. Less efficient and methodical.
It is almost—
Fingernails graze her inner thigh. Her skin prickles, unease flooding her system. She opens her mouth to speak the same moment the tailor straightens, cupping her cunt through her panties.
Tav’s gaze snaps to the mirror. Red eyes glare back. Her heart stutters. She’s never seen his reflection before.
“Six months,” Astarion murmurs near her ear, “and not a word. How terribly unfaithful of you.”
“What are you doing here?” she hisses, trying to keep her composure. The tailor will be back any moment.
“A burgundy dress?” He tuts. “With your auburn hair? You look a mess.”
Tav’s face burns.
“Try an emerald green. A deep indigo. Or,” he says, leaning in closer, gripping her cunt tighter, “a dazzling silver—my favorite.”
“My friends are right outside—”
“You know, this morning I was walking, enjoying the sunlight on my face, when I caught a whiff of your blood.” His hand tightens, fingers pressing harder into her. Her core flutters at the attention. “Were you even thinking of giving me a visit?”
She was, actually. It was a stupid idea, but she couldn’t keep from making sure he was alright. Clearly, he is fucking fine. Albeit a little nuts.
“I’m in the middle of a fitting, or haven’t you noticed?”
Astarion laughs against her hair, then inhales deeply. “I think it’s time you come home, Tavrella.”
Suddenly, Tav pictures it—going home to Astarion in the Crimson Palace. Eating fine food and drinking aged wine. Getting fucked on the dining room table. Being fed from.
One night couldn’t hurt… could it?
Astarion’s mouth graze her neck, and he kisses the skin there. She melts into it, far too easily. Fingers slide against her wetness, and he pulls her underwear down her legs.
Tav takes the moment to spin, facing him with fury in her eyes. “It’s very clear to me you’ve lost your gods-damned mind, but this is madness! The tailor will be back any minute!” Her heart races as she spoke.
“There’s a certain pleasure,” he says, far too lightly, “in the world understanding that you belong to me.”
And she does belong to him. Not as a thing owned, but as a force aligned. As the moon bends to a planets gravity. As the wind yields itself to the waiting branches. They were joined, congealed into one inevitability, impossible to unravel without undoing them both.
Astarion pushes her back, his body unfamiliarly warm and solid against hers. She studies the man before her. No, not the man. The creature wearing a man’s skin. Because he isn’t just a simple person. He is far more. A god set loose among mortal men. Even as a living elf, he must know it. The world does not squander beauty like this by accident. The realm does not plant such perfection without critical intention.
The precise bow of his mouth, sculpted for both prayer and blasphemy. The elegant slant of his eyes, sharp with amusement. The clean, impossible line of his nose, symmetry bordering on sacrilege.
For a heartbeat, a memory stirs. A ritual of her own. She dreamed of a face just like this, had she not? How many nights had she fallen asleep to shouts of her parents, conjuring a perfect man to keep her sane? One who would listen to her, and take her away from everything. One who would trace reverent kisses along her skin, who would open her slowly, as though she were a gift to him. A face made for worship. A mouth made for devotion. Hands meant for unmaking.
She’d never imagined that same mouth would bite her afterward. That it would take as much as it would give. That it would leave her forever changed. Beauty, she realized too late, was never meant to be harmless.
“Must we play this game forever, my sweet Tavrella?” He plucks a pin from her waist and takes her hand. The metal kisses the pad of her finger. Pain blooms brightly.
A single drop of blood wells, catching the light of the changing room. His irises flare, and he draws her finger to his mouth, tongue flicking out to claim the droplet.
Tav holds her breath. Astarion doesn’t rush. He isn’t known for it.
He drops her hand when he’s done. “See? I can restrain myself.” Something hard presses into her hip, and her core tightens. Astarion’s lips hover over her own. “What are you so afraid of?”
“That you’ll make me your spawn.” Her voice doesn’t waver, but her stomach flips as he inches closer.
Silence stretches, then laughter. Light, almost fond. “Fine,” he says, as if granting a favor. “I can wait.”
She stiffens at the idea. Wait?
His smile thins. “You don’t trust me.” He moves closer anyway, his erection pressing against her harder. “After everything,” he continues gently, “ that we survived together… you still think I’d cage you?”
Tav lifts her chin, their lips almost meeting. “I think you believe the cage is a gilded mansion.”
Astarion rolls his eyes and lifts her leg, bringing her knee to his hip. His dangerous mouth is overtop hers. Buttons pop, and fabric loosens. Something warm and smooth touches her center.
Tav knows she stands on the precipice. The figure before her is not merely a man but the final, willing shove. Once he is inside her, once his flesh molds to hers, she will be lost to him. That’s how it always goes. They are souls searching the realms for each other. Perhaps they have met before. If she yields now, this will be the last meeting. There will be no reincarnation for either of them. No afterlife.
Only eternity, narrowed to silk sheets and shadowed rooms and a godless man who will never let her go. Damned to his bed, his body, forever.
Isn’t that what she wanted? What she wished for? Late at night—when she dreamt of this man, with this face—she dreamt of being consumed. Honored. Kept.
“Be mine,” he whispers along her mouth. “Give in to me. To all that you deserve.”
Tav clutches his shoulder, her nails sliding up his neck. Her body trembles, her thoughts scattering to the wind that steals her agency.
The tip of his cock presses harder, and her body gives way. Her eyes shutter closed as he pushes deeper, each rock of his hips claiming another will ever learn.
Tav can’t take the distance anymore, so she kisses him. Their lips meet warmly, soft, before turning to that fiery rush it always turns out to be.
He pulls out entirely before sinking all the way back in. It feels glorious. She wonders why she ever decided to leave this. Her head falls back against the wood, and she lets out a breathy moan.
“Are you coming home, darling?” His hand grips her thigh, tightening. “Because I have plans for us.”
Tav says nothing, closing her eyes and relishing the feeling of him.
“Answer me.”
“The only way to successfully persuade me is with your cock buried inside me?”
“Oh, my dear,” he says with a particularly deep thrust. “I have no plans to ever take it out.”
Tav shakes her head, knowing the power she has over him. She cants her hips, taking him deeper.
He is gone in an instant, his cock ripping away.
“You think I’ll give this for free?” Astarion’s eyes shine brighter than before. “Let’s have some self-respect, Tavrella. I’ll fuck you when you agree to be mine.”
“I—”
The curtain opens. The tailor stares at them, his eyes widening as he takes in Astarion, with his cock out and his eyes gleaming.
“What is this?”
“Go back to your storage room,” Astarion commands, his voice deep and serious. His words feel heavier than ever before.
The tailor stiffens, expression going blank. He turns on his heel and walks out without another word, the curtain falling shut behind him.
“What did you do to him?” she asks, disbelief threading her voice.
Astarion rolls his shoulders, adjusting his clothing, as though nothing at all were amiss. “I compelled him.”
“You can do that?”
“Yes,” he says. “I can. Do you see how I’m not doing that to you? I could. But I won’t. I would never reduce you to something so… expendable.”
“Astarion,” Tav says softly, palm pressing over her racing heart. “I want us to be happy. You know that.” She swallows. “You need to promise me you’ll never turn me. I need your word.”
Astarion rolls his eyes again.
“Tav?” Shadowheart’s voice drifts through the fabric, light and curious. “Everything all right in there?”
“Fine!” Tav calls, far too quickly. “I’m fine. Don’t—don’t come in.”
Astarion steps closer again, presence folding around her heavily. He turns her, Tav’s chest hitting the mirror. He kicks her feet wider, and then his fingers are inside her. She lets out a choked groan.
“Tav? Are you sure you’re alright?” Shadowheart asks.
Astarion pumps his fingers inside Tav faster, quickly bringing her to an impending orgasm. The way he strokes her, knowing exactly what makes her shatter, drives her insane.
“Yes, I’m fine! I’ll be out shortly.” Tav's head presses into the mirror, and she moans.
Astarion covers her mouth, quieting her sounds.
“Very well, then,” Shadowheart says. Footsteps sound a moment later, trailing away from the dressing room.
Tav cries out against Astarion’s palm. The muffled noise still feels far too loud. Far too obvious that debauchery is ensuing inside the room.
“Come home, Tavrella. Come home, and I will give you everything.” His words disappear into her neck. His fangs pierce her skin, and she comes undone, cunt gripping his fingers far too tightly to be normal. Her vision goes black.
Astarion groans, gripping her tighter, fingers still moving, thumb circling her clit until her spasms stop. He pulls away after a few deep swallows.
“Do you see, darling?” He wipes his mouth, and Tav stares at him in the mirror, breathing heavily. A thin line of her blood slips down his jaw. “I can wait. Until you’re ready.” He rips a handkerchief free from his coat and ties it elegantly around her neck, hiding his bite.
Then he is gone, giving her ass a smack as he leaves.
The tailor enters moments later, and he barely blinks at her state of dishevelment. He holds the green silk up to her, wanting her opinion.
“Silver,” she demands, pushing the fabric away. “Make me your finest silver dress. Something low-cut.”
────•⋅⊰♥⊱⋅•────
Tav steps out of the gala building and into the night air. She draws her cloak closer to her, the fur lining keeping her warm. The stars twinkle above, distant yet radiant. The gala had been a success, citizens congratulating the three of them all night.
Her feet know the way to the Crimson Palace. They take her there.
She stares at the great wooden door, at the many windows, some without curtains to hide what what is happening inside. A servant passes a window, holding towels. Another is wiping down the glass panels. The rest are dark.
Tav walks to the door and knocks. It takes only a minute for someone to answer. The door creaks open, and a human woman with green eyes regards her. There is intrigue in her expression. “Do you have a meeting with Lord Astarion?”
Tav scoffs. “He’s a Lord now?”
The woman opens the door a little wider, tilting her head. “Your name?”
Tav bites her lip to keep from scoffing again. “He hasn’t spoken of me?” She assumes Astarion has taken lovers. Honestly, it would make her feel better if he had. He’d been forced to fuck victims for two hundred years, and then he chose her. But he had nothing of real value to compare it to. If he fucked around and still wanted her… well, that meant something.
“You must be Tavrella, formerly Tavrella Mor. Now, of the Brenner household. Your mother of the Dactyl clan from the Reaching Woods.”
“Yes, that is the sum of me.” Legally, she might still carry her husband’s name. They never found his body in the Steel Watch Foundry fire. They might not even document him as dead. "Though I prefer just 'Tav'."
The woman steps to the side, letting Tav in. “Lord Astarion is getting ready for dinner. Follow me. I will send someone for him.”
Tav enters slowly, her gaze sweeping the palace. The décor has changed. The crimson runners are gone, replaced by deep green carpets that mute each step. Above, the crown molding gleams silver, catching the light like frost.
The palace feels transformed—no longer a place of blood, but something colder, sharper. A frosted palace.
The dining room is just as beautiful. Long tables of pale wood stretch beneath chandeliers that shimmer like frozen stars. A man stands near the center, adjusting cutlery, adding a final place setting—hers.
Tav wants to stop him, to explain she isn’t going to be staying very long. She takes a step forward, and he lifts his head.
The servant’s gaze catches on her and lingered. Tav’s eyes widen when she realizes he isn’t a spawn. The woman hadn’t been one, either. This man is an elf with blue eyes, and his cheeks flush red. His eyes dip briefly to where her cloak has shifted during the walk. She tightens it at once, hiding the hint of skin she’s forgotten is showing. The movement only seems to make him more aware, and he almost drops the fork he is gripping tightly.
“Raymond,” a sharp voice snaps.
Tav turns to see Astarion in the doorway, his white curls perfectly mussed, his red eyes shining. He wears a loose blouse and fine pants, black boots gleaming. His jaw is tight as he glares at his servant.
Raymond shuffles back and stands against the wall, arms behind his back. Right next to the woman who opened the door. Trained to be obedient. Yet, no marks on their necks.
“Have you come to your senses so soon, my love?” Astarion steps into the room, hungry eyes on her.
“Do they not…” Tav stops her words, eyes drifting quickly to the attendants.
“Know that I am the Vampire Ascendant?” Astarion says, arms spreading wide. “Yes, they know. They are here of their own free will.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Are they?”
Astarion turns to his attendants. “Raymond, Esther, why do you serve me?”
They look at their Lord. “Raymond is the first to speak. “Because you protect this house,” he says. “Because you reward loyalty. Because service here is safer than the streets, and better than most estates I have known.”
Esther inclines her head. “We are fed well, paid generously, and…” She trails off, but Tav understands. They want to be like Astarion. They want to be vampires.
“You have not made spawn? Why?” Tav asks.
Astarion smiles, a slow curve of his lips. “That honor goes to you first. No one shall share my power before you.”
Tav is done playing games with him. Tugging the tie at her throat, she releases her cloak. It falls to the floor.
It does the trick. Astarion’s eyes widen, traveling from the crown of her head to the floor at her feet, eyes lingering.
She knows why. She’d helped design the dress with the tailor.
It is a silver thing, clinging to Tav like liquid metal. It leaves nothing to the imagination, every curve intentional, every line deliberate. She feels the air change the moment his gaze settles on her, the sharp intake of his breath giving him away before his face does.
She knew he is attracted to her. She knows the sounds he makes when he is inside her. But she needs to know more. Is she truly his weakness? Is she the goddess of his life? Will he do anything for her?
Tav brushes a coil of auburn hair off her shoulder, showing off the neckline. It dips low, almost to her waist, her chest on full display.
Astarion’s hands shake, fists curling like he is attempting not to reach for her. His pupils are blown wide, the crimson darkening until it is almost entirely black. His posture, always so effortless, changes. His shoulders are drawn tight, his attention narrowing to her and her alone.
Tav puts a hand on her hip, popping it out so he can see her icy high heels and the slit that goes to her thigh.
“Kneel,” she says simply.
Astarion’s throat bobs as he swallows. His breath is shallow now, uneven. There is an unmistakable bulge in his pants. “Excuse me, my dear?”
“You want me? Prove it.”
Astarion wavers, but then he takes a knee. The other drops until he is on both.
“Crawl to me.”
His eyes flare, his face turning cold.
Tav looks at the servants, proud of herself for bringing Astarion to his knees. She knows he won’t dismiss them, no—that will be a loss. He will not give in to that pressure. Tav does, however, notice Raymond’s pants have also tented, his cheeks rosy as he stares at her, eyes fixed on her breasts. Esther has her eyes on the floor.
Metal clinks softly against the smooth floor. Astarion’s ringed hands spread against the stone as he lowers himself fully, discomfort tightening every line of his body.
He hates this. Tav can see it in the rigid set of his shoulders. But this isn’t submission—it is a choice, and it costs him.
That is the point.
Astarion crawls forward. The scrape of fabric against the floor echoes in the quiet room. When he stops before her, she lifts one foot, the color of her dress catching the light as she does.
“Go on,” she says calmly, but there is a bite of anger to her voice that doesn’t go unnoticed.
Astarion takes her foot gently and lowers his head. Lips presses to her skin. Once. Twice. Higher, he moves, until his mouth meets the strap of her dainty heel. Then he looks up at her. There is fire in his eyes, resentment, too, possibly. It is all mixed with desire and devotion.
Tav meets his gaze and spits through her teeth. “This,” she says, “is what it feels like when you ask me to be your spawn.”
He freezes.
“To kneel,” she continues. “To be wanted, but lesser. Desired, but owned. To give up choice.” Her foot remains poised in his hands, unyielding. “Can you live like this, Astarion? With this imbalance?” She lifts her foot and poises it over his heart. “Do you truly want me under your heel? Or as an equal?”
He doesn’t speak. She pushes her foot against his chest. He throws out a hand to catch himself, and then sits there, eyes wounded. After a moment, he settles back on his heels, posture loosening. His eyes are open as he stares up at her.
“Promise me,” she demands. “Promise me that you won’t ask again.”
Understanding flickers across his face. “I won’t ask you again.”
Pride ignites in her chest. “And I want to be a Lady. Not just your consort.”
“Then that is what you shall be,” he says. “A Lady of my court, with her own place. Her own throne.”
Tav’s foot shakes as she presses harder, wanting him to feel how she feels. She wants him to say it. That he loves her. She has already confessed her feelings to him. Why hasn’t he?
“I want a say in everything,” she says through gritted teeth.
“You will have it.”
“Very good.” She removes her foot and turns to leave.
Astarion stands quickly, catching her arm. “You’re not staying?”
Tav cocks an eyebrow. “And give you everything right away? Surely, you must work for it.”
Astarion grins like a feral beast and pulls her to him. “You dare wear this,” he begins, tracing a knuckle down her exposed chest, inching toward her belly button, “and you expect me not to ravish you?”
“You’re a grown man. You can wait, as you said."
He tugs her closer until his lips reach hers. The kiss is swift and teasing. His posture is exultant, his face breathtakingly beautiful as he pulls away. “You said equals, remember?”
Tav tilts her head, auburn hair flowing down her back.
Astarion lifts her onto the table, setting her atop the fine tablecloth. “It’s my turn to show dominance.”
“You’re an ascended vampire. There will always be a power imbalance between us two.”
There isn’t time for more words, at least, not according to him. He silences her with a kiss, his hands moving down to lift her dress. The cold metal from his rings make Tav shiver as he grazes her bare thighs. Goosebumps flood her skin. The air becomes sweeter, somehow. Intoxicating.
Tav tears her mouth from his, eyes on the attendants. “Astarion—”
“Let them watch.”
Tav’s face flames red. “That’s—that’s horrid.” And it makes her uncomfortable, because Raymond is still staring intently, his eyes wide, his mouth open, and his pants struggling to contain his arousal.
Astarion spreads Tav’s legs. “Esther,” he says brusquely. “Leave us.”
The woman nods and quickly leaves, her eyes never leaving the floor.
Astarion makes a startled noise when he finds Tav is not wearing anything under her dress. “You filthy thing,” he chastises. “You came here to negotiate? Bare underneath? And then you expected to leave?” He slides a finger inside her. Tav gasps, throwing out an arm, knocking over a crystal wine glass.
Astarion pumps his finger into her. It curls, stroking her just right. The pressure increases when he adds another. The pleasure heightens with every brush of his thumb over her clit.
“Come,” he says so sternly that Tav blinks.
But he isn’t speaking to her.
Raymond takes an unsteady step forward, his hands curling at his sides. Astarion’s gaze snaps to him, incandescent with fury. He pauses the movements with his hand. “You seem to have forgotten a very basic rule,” Astarion says softly, which is always when he is most dangerous. “One does not stare at what belongs to another.”
“My lord,” Raymond stammers, “p-please forgive me, I—”
“Couldn’t resist?” Astarion suggests. “Naturally.” His eyes flicker briefly toward Tav. “She does have a talent for dismantling one’s composure. That was her intention, after all.”
Raymond’s shoulders loosen at the reprieve. Tav’s body is still tight with nerves.
“However,” Astarion's voice cuts like a whip. “Your weakness does not grant you permission.” His tone drops to a lethal level, but there is no compulsion in his eyes. “You will learn what Tavrella is, and you will learn quickly. She will reside here. You will see her adorned in the finest fabrics, the smallest allowances of them, in states that would unmake lesser men—and you will lower your eyes every single time.”
Raymond swallows hard. Tav stifles a noise of shock.
“What’s mine is not for your consumption—except for this single moment.” He slides his fingers deeper inside Tav, and then he removes them. He holds them up, Tav’s arousal shining in the light of the sconces.
“Open your mouth.”
Tav could have died right there at Astarion’s command. Raymond moves stiffly as he steps closer, bending his head, and opening his mouth. Astarion places his fingers on Raymond’s tongue, forcing him to taste her.
Tav is inherently aware of how exposed she is, of how another man is tasting her own arousal.
“How is her flavor?” Astarion asks softly. His eyes glitter like molten rubies.
Raymond swallows and steps back once. “I–I don’t know how to answer that.”
Astarion laughs. “Very good. You don’t want to show you like it, but you don’t want to insult her by saying you don’t.” Then his jaw tightens. “Tavrella is mine. Forget this again, and I will remind you in ways you will not survive twice.”
Raymond nods, eyes on the floor.
“Back to your post.”
Raymond shuffles back until his spine is pressed to the dining room wall. Astarion smiles wickedly, like he knows he holds the leash to everyone in the room.
“What the fuck was that?” Tav hisses, pushing herself up.
Astarion drags his eyes away from his attendant. “I do not like how he stared at you.”
“Fine, but that doesn’t mean—”
Astarion kisses her, swallowing her words. His hands distract her from her anger. His mouth gives attention to her throat, his lips and tongue trailing over old scars. “Did you forget, my love? What we are?” He spreads her legs farther, and his intention is clear.
“Are–aren’t you going to dismiss him?” Tav asks incredulously.
Astarion unbuttons his pants and frees his cock. “No.” He smacks it against her clit before pressing against her.
It has been a while since she fucked him. Since she fucked anyone. More than half a year—if she doesn’t count the other day in the fitting room, but that had been only for a second.
When was the last time? In the Shadowlands? Gods, that was ages ago.
Her body gives some resistance, but Astarion doesn’t rush. “You pretended to be a virtuous thing for Wyll, and yet I took you from him anyway.” He pulls back, rubbing his cock through her folds, gathering her wetness. He presses forward, getting a fourth of himself inside her. “You followed me into that darkness, into places where decency had no business surviving. And you loved it.” He sinks further, and Tav moans, dropping her head onto the table. “You didn’t want virtue then,” he continues, merciless, and he pulled all the way out and slammed back in. “And I won’t offer it now, Tavrella.”
She cries out, back bowing on the table.
Astarion kisses her roughly, fucking her harder. Dishes shatter on the smooth floor. Cutlery clang together.
Tav clings to the fabric at his shoulders, her eyes rolling back in her head. Their sex hadn’t felt like this, had it? He feels larger, harder, more substantial. The pleasure feels higher, sharper, more intense. It is mesmerizing.
Tav lifts her hips, but his hand find her waist, keeping her down. “I will fuck you where I please. On this table, on the terrace, in front of anyone I want. Do you understand?”
Gods, she does. And why does she want it so badly?
Tav kisses him, biting his lip, needing to show she has some power, too. It is a fight for both of them to stay on top. A never-ending war waged with each other's bodies.
Astarion drags his cock inside her, giving her shallow thrusts, hitting her favorite spot. She lets out a whimpering sound. He chuckles clings to him.
“Can you love a monster,” he asks, a pale curl slipping loose to shadow his eye, “without becoming one yourself?” He grabs her wrists and forces them to the table, giving her everything he had. His thrusts turn punishing, his eyes darkening as he fucks her.
Tav isn’t sure what she thought. Was it love at all when one heart knelt beneath another’s weight? When one foot rests on the other’s throat?
Can they ever become equals? Will he ever allow that? And—more damning still—does she truly want it? All she had ever wanted was to be loved, to find a place beside someone. She spent years on the road, teaching herself to be strong, to never need another, but she’d failed time and time again.
Who was she, really, without the stories she told herself? What noble purpose had she been chasing, if it led her here all the same? Was this the end of the road? A woman stripped of pretense, wanting to be wanted, kept, fucked?
The answer comes without shame.
Yes. She wants his attention. His indulgence. The luxury of being precious to someone powerful. Is that weakness? Or, is it simply raw, unvarnished truth?
And something she can learn to wield?
Astarion finishes with a brutal thrust, burying himself deep inside her as he groans into her neck. He drags his fangs down, not breaking skin, but teasing her. Testing her.
Tavrella doesn’t know who she is anymore. He doesn’t give her a chance to decide. Astarion scoops her up bridal-style. Her dress catches the light as it spills over his arms, shimmering against her stillness.
“See to this,” he spits the words over his shoulder to Raymond. “Clean it up.”
Then he is moving. He takes the steps two at a time, momentum carrying them through grand archways and into the heart of the palace, where his chambers await. He lays her down upon the bed reverently, his presence pressing close before she can gather herself.
His mouth gives no reprieve, worshipping her as she struggles to process the moment before. She lets her gaze drift upward, away from him, fixing on the canopy above. Heavy velvets—green instead of crimson.
It does not matter.
Spawn on not, crowned or caged, the truth remains unchanged:
She belongs to him.
The palace does not require red silks when it has her. It does not need stained stone when her heart still beats. When her veins carry warmth enough to sate a demon.
Tavrella understands at last. She can cling to her humanity, she can draw lines, demand promises. But refusal is not an escape.
Because she will never leave him. She will never let her body wither away while he watches.
He will drink her until she is drained dry, and the palace will have her blood, at last.
Just not tonight.
Gods, not tonight.