Chapter Text
As we approach the gates of the city, the sheer scale of it continues to astound me. The twisted spires of obsidian and dark stone stretch high, their tips disappearing into the shadows of the cavern ceiling.
A strange energy courses through the air, a constant hum that makes my skin prickle. It's the heartbeat of the city—a rhythm that pulses with an ancient, cold power. The architecture is refined. The rough edges have been smoothed out, replaced with sharp, intricate designs that speak of a civilization that has not only survived but thrived in the darkness.
As we draw nearer to the gates, I catch sight of a figure—a guard stationed at the entrance. Their eyes, sharp and vigilant, fall upon us, and for a moment, there's a flicker of recognition. The guard's gaze lingers on Astarion first, and then shifts to me.
"Wait—" The guard’s voice cuts through the ambient noise of the city. "It's them.”
A murmur spreads quickly through those nearby, heads turning, whispers trailing in our wake. Astarion glances at me, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, but there's something in his eyes—the quiet satisfaction of being remembered for what we created here.
The gates swing open with a slow, deliberate creak, and the guard steps aside, bowing slightly. "Welcome back…”
It’s been so long since I’ve walked these streets, and yet, the city still remembers. The thought sends a shiver down my spine. The streets, now teeming with life, seem to breathe with their own rhythm. Vampire spawn in various forms—some elegant, others rugged and scarred—move about their business. A few pause to stare as we pass, eyes wide with recognition and respect. I feel their gaze following us, whispers passing from one to the next.
"Is it really them?" I catch someone murmuring, the awe in their voice unmistakable. "They’ve returned after all this time."
Astarion walks beside me, his stride purposeful, but I know him well enough to catch the flicker of pride in his posture. He doesn't say anything, but the look he gives me speaks volumes. This is our legacy.
As we make our way deeper into the city, the towering structures of stone and crystal cast long, flickering shadows over us. The streets wind and twist. The city is alive, thriving, a testament to all that we once fought for. But for now, as the crowd parts to let us pass, there’s a sense of quiet victory in the air. We’ve made it back, and the city still remembers us.
We walk in silence, the distant glow of the main tower drawing us closer with every step. My eyes trace its lines, the sharp edges of the architecture cutting into the cavern’s ceiling like jagged teeth. As we approach, memories begin to surface, fragmented and hazy. This tower wasn’t just a place of governance; it was once my home. Astarion and I lived here, though the details elude me, slipping away like shadows before I can grasp them. I know we made plans here, strategized and built this city from the ground up. And yet, there’s a hollowness in my recollections, as if the years have taken pieces of it with them, leaving only faint impressions behind.
Beside me, Shadowheart’s eyes narrow as she surveys the towering structures. “So much ambition in a place like this.” Her voice is low, edged with an admiration she tries to keep hidden. “It’s beautiful, in a way. But I can’t help but feel the undercurrent of something... darker.”
Adhara nods in agreement. “There’s power here, a lot of it,” she says, her voice calm but thoughtful. “It feels... untamed, though. Like it could shift at any moment, turn on itself.”
We draw closer and the massive stone doors of the tower creak open, revealing two figures stepping out into the pale light. They move with a fluid grace, their presence immediately commanding the space around them. I recognize them before they even speak—Dalyria and Leon.
Dalyria is the first to speak, her voice a smooth, welcoming melody. "Astarion. Eve. We knew you’d come back eventually." Her sharp eyes flick between us, a knowing smile playing on her lips. There’s something almost predatory in her gaze, though I can’t tell if it’s directed at us or the situation.
Leon, on the other hand, is quieter. He watches us with a mixture of relief and curiosity. His crimson eyes, so much like Astarion’s, shimmer in the dim light as he steps forward. “Welcome home,” he says softly. Astarion and I exchange a glance, and then we step forward, into the past we left behind.
As we step inside, the air shifts—a familiar coolness, dampened by the weight of the stone that surrounds us. The tower’s interior feels unchanged in its essence, yet there's a subtle grandeur to it now. The walls are lined with dark, polished stone, veins of silver running through them like the ancient roots of a tree, and here and there, clusters of pale crystals glow softly, casting ghostly light across the expansive hall. High arches stretch above, disappearing into shadow, and the faint hum of power echoes in the quiet spaces between the stone.
I trail behind Astarion, my gaze sweeping across the chamber. It feels so strange, like returning to a dream you thought you'd forgotten. I can almost picture us here—centuries ago—striding through these halls with purpose. Now, the tower feels different, larger, perhaps more... lived in.
Dalyria’s voice cuts through my thoughts, casual but laced with a hint of something sharper. "You’re not our only guests today," she says, glancing at Leon, who gives a faint nod of agreement. "The others are waiting in the main room. Some interesting visitors, I might add."
The way she says it makes me uneasy. My muscles tense slightly, wondering who these other visitors could be. In a city governed by vampire spawn, unexpected guests can only mean one thing: complications.
“We’ll prepare rooms for your companions,” Leon adds, his tone more measured, almost soothing compared to his sister’s playful sharpness. “You’ll be able to rest soon.”
I nod, though the idea of rest feels distant. The tension in the air tells me that whatever awaits in the main room will demand our attention first. As we move deeper into the tower, the space becomes more ornate—deep red tapestries hang from the walls, intricate patterns woven into the fabric, and a massive chandelier made of bone and crystal looms overhead, casting a dim light across the dark stone floor. My mind is still racing, memories of this place fluttering just out of reach, as if my past self is walking beside me.
As we approach the doors of the main room, I feel the familiar, low hum of tension settling in my chest. The sound of muffled voices reaches us, and my hand instinctively moves to the hilt of one of my scimitars—more out of habit than threat.
Astarion pushes the heavy doors open, the dim light of the chamber spilling out. The room itself is grand—high ceilings draped in dark tapestries, tall pillars carved with intricate designs. Shadows dance along the walls, cast by flickering candlelight, adding an eerie beauty to the space. But what draws my eye is not the decor. It’s the people gathered inside.
Astarion’s siblings stand near the center, each of them has grown into their role here in the city. urelia stands tall, her eyes sharp, assessing us even as a small, knowing smile tugs at her lips. Petras leans against one of the pillars, his arms crossed, but his gaze is fixed on us, a calculating look in his eye. Violet remains still, her eyes ever watchful, while Yousen stands further back, his expression unreadable.
But it’s not them that pulls my attention.
Seated near the head of the room is a figure I never thought I’d see again. A drow woman dressed in rich, ornate clothing, her robes shimmering in the low light, embroidered with intricate designs that speak of her obsession with power and status. Her silver hair is pulled back elegantly, her eyes bright and calculating, as always. She doesn’t smile when she sees us, but her gaze locks onto Astarion, the same twisted hunger lurking behind her sharp gaze.
Araj Oblodra.
I clench my teeth. Of all the people to find here…
But my attention shifts again as I notice the figure standing beside her—a drow male, strikingly beautiful, with a presence that commands attention. His silver hair falls just past his shoulders, and his features are refined, almost too perfect. His eyes, however, are what capture me—sharp, enigmatic, almost familiar. I don’t know him, yet there’s something in the way he stands, the air of power that radiates from him.
Araj’s voice cuts through the quiet. “Well, well… if it isn’t the prodigal pair, returned to grace us with your presence.” Her tone is laced with mockery, and her eyes flick between Astarion and me, lingering on him with that unsettling gaze.
I step closer, my anger rising with each word she utters. “What are you doing here?” My voice is sharp, laced with barely contained fury. Araj always knew how to bring out the worst in me, and her presence now feels like a thorn buried deep.
“How unwelcoming,” she purrs, her voice smooth as honey but as false as her intentions. “Now that House Oblodra is restored, don’t you think I would seek alliances with those most... versed in blood?” Her gaze flickers over the vampire spawn, her smirk growing.
Before I can respond, the drow man steps forward, drawing my attention. His movement is fluid, too confident, and when he speaks, his voice is deep, smooth like a whisper of shadow. “Never thought I’d see you again, Iivlin.”
My eyes narrow, flicking over him. “Who are you?” I snap, my nerves pulled tight like a bowstring. His presence unnerves me, stirs something dark and unfamiliar.
He clicks his tongue, the sound condescending. “So it’s true, then. You lost your memories,” he drawls, his gaze shifting lazily to Astarion before returning to me. “And your taste, it seems.”
Before I even think, my scimitar is out, the tip pressing against his throat in one swift motion. “Watch your tongue, Malagar, lest I’ll cut it out.” His name falls from my lips before I even realize it, a name that sends a chill down my spine. I know him. I know him well.
To his credit, he doesn’t flinch, though the amusement flickers briefly from his eyes. He regains his composure quickly, his smirk returning. “Ah, so you do remember me,” he says, his voice dripping with mockery. “I didn’t think you’d forget your consort so easily.”
“Now, now...” Araj’s voice pulls me back to the present, her presence as infuriating as ever. She steps closer, her fingers brushing lightly against the blade of my scimitar, gently moving it away from Malagar’s throat as if it’s all a game to her. “I don’t think you can afford to anger any more of Lolth’s sworn, now, can you? You’ve already done enough of that.”
She takes a step back, her gaze flicking briefly over Malagar before settling on me, her smirk as smug as ever. “And... former consort.”
“Yes, mistress,” Malagar replies smoothly, his tone obedient, but there’s a glint in his eyes as he looks at her, something darker lurking beneath the surface.
“We’ll be staying in the city for a few more days, thanks to the generosity of our gracious hosts,” Araj says, her voice laced with amusement. She sweeps her gaze over Astarion’s siblings again, her smirk growing wider, relishing every moment of the tension.
“Come speak to us when you’ve cooled off... when that temper of yours has had time to settle,” she adds, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction, fully aware of the fury she’s stoking. Her smile, sharp and mocking, lingers in the air like a threat, daring me to respond.
I could kill her. Right here, right now. The thought coils around me like a predator waiting to strike, and the urge to act on it burns in my veins. I crave it—to see her blood spill, her face smeared with her own arrogance. But I exhale slowly, forcing the rage down, burying it deep. This isn’t the time, and it isn’t the place. I can’t afford to lose control, not here, not now.
The fury simmers beneath the surface, but I let it pass, knowing that there will be another moment for reckoning.
I turn sharply, not trusting myself to look at Astarion right now. His eyes, always so sharp, are on me, I can feel it, but I keep my gaze fixed ahead, determined not to let my anger slip through the cracks. He falls into step behind me, the silence between us as tense as the air in the room we just left.
The hallway is a narrow escape, its shadows wrapping around us as we move further from that damned encounter. The air feels cooler here, more grounded, but my pulse is still pounding in my ears. I need a moment—just one—to compose myself before I do something I regret.
A figure emerges from the darkness of the hallway, a young-looking vampire. She’s pale and slight, her expression neutral but respectful. “I will lead you to your rooms,” she says softly, her voice like the faintest breath of wind.
I nod, forcing my lips into a tight line as I try to shove the anger back down. It still churns inside me, but the coolness of the Underdark's air helps, even just a little.
The hallway is dim, the only light coming from the faint glow of crystals embedded in the walls. The soft footfalls of our group are swallowed by the thick silence of the tower. There’s a strange stillness here, almost as though the air itself is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. My fingers brush the hilt of my scimitar, the cool metal grounding me as we walk.
Shadowheart and Adhara are the first to peel off, heading toward their rooms. Shadowheart gives me a nod. Adhara follows her closely, a steady presence beside her.
Nissa and Gale exchange a glance before turning down another corridor. Gale gives me a quick smile, though I can tell the tension from earlier hasn’t fully left him. Nissa lingers just a moment, her eyes flicking toward me as though she wants to say something, but she simply offers a small nod before turning away.
That leaves Astarion and me.
The woman leads us further down the hall, the shadows stretching long as we go deeper into the tower. Astarion is close behind me, silent, though I can feel his presence like a constant pulse at my back. When we reach our door, the young vampire opens it quietly and steps aside, bowing slightly before retreating into the shadows. I glance at Astarion, finally meeting his gaze for the first time since we left the main hall. His expression is unreadable, his crimson eyes studying me with that careful, guarded look he always wears when something’s troubling him.
Without a word, we step into the room, the door closing softly behind us.
He tosses his pack aside, his eyes flicking toward me as he undoes the straps of his armor, piece by piece. I can feel the tension radiating off him, thinly veiled beneath that charming facade he always wears lika a mask.
“So…” he draws out the word, his voice deceptively light, as if we’re simply discussing the weather. “You had a consort…”
I don’t miss the sharpness in his gaze, the way it cuts through the space between us. His tone is casual, but I know Astarion too well to fall for it. There’s a bite underneath, the kind that stings without needing to be obvious. As I remove my own armor, my hands move automatically, the motions practiced, mechanical, but my mind is racing.
“I don’t remember it,” I say, my voice clipped, trying to keep my focus on the task at hand. The metal of my gauntlets feels cold against my skin as I toss them aside. It’s the truth—I don’t remember. But the sound of his name, Malagar… it stirred something in me. A memory, maybe. A feeling I couldn’t quite place.
Astarion’s lips curl into that familiar smirk, the one that never quite reaches his eyes. “Yet you remember him… hmmm,” he says, the game in his voice growing sharper. His eyes meet mine, and I can see the flicker of something deeper behind them. It bothers him.
Astarion’s voice hangs in the air, sharp and cutting, as he continues to strip off his armor. I can feel the weight of his gaze, though I do my best to avoid meeting it. He’s not playing light-hearted games with his words anymore—his tone is too pointed for that, too raw.
“Yet you don’t remember us. Six months in this tower, and nothing. Not even a flicker of recollection. But the moment you see him…” He trails off, clearly fighting to keep his composure. The armor hits the ground with a dull thud.
“I told you, I don’t remember him,” I say again, more firmly this time, as I struggle to unbuckle my own gear. My fingers tremble slightly, betraying the calm I’m trying to hold onto. I don’t want to fight, not like this.
“Oh, but you knew his name, didn’t you? Just rolled off your tongue like it was nothing,” Astarion snaps, stepping closer. His voice, usually so smooth, has an edge I’m not used to hearing. “Funny, isn’t it? You can’t remember us —not the months we spent here, not a single night in this room—but him? The moment you saw him, it all came back.”
I can’t stop myself from flinching at his words. Each one feels like a lash, striking at something deep inside me. “Astarion, stop. You don’t understand,” I start, but he’s not ready to listen.
“I understand perfectly,” he says, and there’s a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—hurt, insecurity, things he would never admit to feeling. “Maybe it’s easier for you not to remember. Maybe it’s easier to forget us.”
I whirl around to face him, anger and frustration bubbling to the surface. “Do you really think I want this?” I snap, my voice shaking. “Do you think I want to be haunted by fragments of a past I don’t even understand? That I want to feel like I’m losing pieces of myself every time someone like him shows up?”
His expression hardens, though I see the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, the same one he tries to hide behind his biting words. “I think you find it easier to forget than face what’s real. You’ve never let me in, not fully.”
Something snaps in me then, the words cutting too deep, the hurt too raw. My heart pounds in my chest, the walls I’ve built around myself starting to crumble. I’ve always been afraid of this—of what he might see if I let him too close, of what I might feel if I let him in completely.
“You think I haven’t let you in?” My voice is hoarse, thick with emotion I can barely contain. “I’ve been terrified , Astarion. Not of you, but of this. Of how much I feel. You’ve been the one thing— the only thing —keeping me grounded, and that scares me more than you’ll ever know.”
For a moment, he’s silent, his sharp gaze softening as he watches me, the tension between us shifting. The hurt, the anger—it’s all still there, but now there’s something else. Something real.
I take a shaky breath, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “I don’t know who I was back then. I barely know who I am now. But I know one thing, Astarion. I know that I love you.”
The silence that follows is deafening, the weight of my confession hanging in the air between us. His eyes widen, just for a fraction of a second, before the mask he wears so well begins to crack. I see it—the vulnerability he’s so careful to hide, the fear that mirrors my own.
He steps closer, his hand reaching out to touch my face, his thumb brushing lightly against my cheek. His usual smirk is gone, replaced by something softer, almost fragile. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear that,” he whispers, his voice breaking just a little.
His eyes search mine for a heartbeat longer, and before I can react, he closes the distance between us. His lips crash against mine in a rush of urgency, a desperate, consuming kiss that steals the breath from my lungs. It’s raw, filled with all the things we haven’t said, all the emotions we’ve kept locked away for too long. His hands cup my face, trembling ever so slightly, as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear, vanish like a fading memory.
The world narrows down to this moment—just the two of us, lost in each other. The taste of him, the feel of his cool lips against mine, sends a shock of electricity through me. There’s no hesitation in his movements now, no distance or walls. For the first time, I feel the depth of his need, the vulnerability he’s always kept hidden, now laid bare between us.
I can feel the urgency in the way his fingers tangle in my hair, the slight tremor in his touch. He kisses me as though he’s been starving for this—for me —and I realize in that moment how much we’ve both been holding back, how much we’ve both needed this.
His lips move against mine, and I lose myself in him, the heat of the moment eclipsing the rest of the world. His body presses against mine and all the fear, the doubt, fades away. There’s nothing but him, nothing but us.
His hands move swiftly, tugging at the laces of my underarmor, his fingers working with a fervor that matches the pounding of my heart. Every touch, every brush of his skin against mine, sends a shiver through me, and I can’t help but lean into him, craving more. I need him— all of him.
I mirror his urgency, my own hands moving with a similar desperation as I begin to undress him. The feel of his cool skin beneath my fingertips ignites a fire deep within me, and the world around us fades into a blur of motion and sensation. Our kiss remains unbroken, as if we’re afraid that stopping would mean losing this moment entirely.
My fingers tremble as they fumble with his buckles, but I don't care—I just need to feel him, to be closer, to be his. The air between us is thick with something primal, something I can’t quite name but don’t want to question. I just want this, now, with him.
His breath hitches as my hands slide over his chest, the closeness between us growing more electric by the second. There’s no space for hesitation, no room for doubt. There’s only us .
I tug at the last lace, my breath shallow as his hands slide down, matching mine. His touch is firm yet gentle, guiding me toward the lavish bed that dominates the room, its dark silks catching the faint light filtering in from the window. Every step backward, every brush of his lips against mine, draws me further into the moment until we reach the bed.
He lowers me onto the soft sheets, his hands never leaving my skin, his lips still pressing against mine with an intensity that leaves me dizzy. My mind spins, the edges of my thoughts blurring as I sink into the sensation of him—his body, his hunger. He’s above me now, his weight pressing me into the bed, and everything beyond this feels like a distant, fading dream.
I reach for him instinctively, craving more, needing him closer. Every part of me responds to him, the world narrowing down to the heat between us, the whisper of silk against my skin, the quiet sound of his breath mingling with mine. And in this moment, I don’t want to think. I don’t need to think. All I need is him.
His hands glide across my skin, stripping my shirt away in one swift, seamless motion before his lips capture mine once again. His touch is immediate, demanding, as his fingers trace their way down my body. The coolness of his hands lingers as they cup my breasts, his grip tightening, drawing a soft whimper from me.
The sound escapes before I can stop it, and it seems to stir something deep within him. A low, feral growl reverberates from his chest, vibrating against my lips. It’s as if that small sound from me spurs him on, fueling his desire even further. His grip tightens, his kisses growing fiercer, more urgent.
He breaks the kiss just long enough to tug my pants down, the fabric slipping from my legs effortlessly. Before I can catch my breath, his hands are back, gripping my face with that same wild intensity, and our lips meet again. I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him in until there’s no space left between us. His body fits against mine, the tension electric as he presses harder, deeper, every movement filled with unspoken need.
His hand glides down my body, trailing heat in its wake until he reaches my inner thigh, gently urging me to spread my legs further. He breaks the kiss, his eyes locking onto mine, and I bite my lip in anticipation just before he pushes inside. A soft moan escapes my lips, unrestrained, as I hear a shaky breath slip from him in return.
His hips move, filling me completely with each slow, deliberate thrust, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body. I reach up, my fingers gliding along the edge of his ear, drawing another deep moan from him. His eyes flutter shut, his face softened by pleasure, and I watch as he loses himself in the moment, every movement driving us closer to the brink.
Sweat beads on my skin as I lose myself in the sensation, every inch of my body humming with pleasure. My eyes meet his once more, and soft moans slip from my lips. “Astarion,” I breathe, his name escaping me in a desperate whisper.
“Gods,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible as he cups my face again, his touch tender yet possessive. “I didn’t realize how much I missed your moans.” His words send a shiver through me, the intimacy of the moment almost too much to bear.
His pace is steady, but each thrust grows harder, more insistent, as soft moans slip me. I bite down on my lip, trying to stifle my own whimpers, but the sound escapes me nonetheless. His presence, his beauty, overwhelms me completely—the way his body moves, fluid and powerful, bathed in the faint glow of the Underdark. Every motion, every breath he takes is intoxicating, and I feel myself surrendering to intensity of it all.
His thrusts become more forceful, each one igniting a deeper fire within me. I can't hold back anymore, my breathless whimpers growing louder as the intensity builds. His beauty is almost too much to bear, the way his muscles flex with every movement, the way his eyes darken with desire.
Suddenly, his lips crash into mine, claiming them with a fierce, hungry kiss. His hand tangles in my hair, pulling me closer as our mouths move in sync, full of desperation and need. The heat between us only grows, our kisses deep and passionate, every touch electric. I taste the urgency on his lips, feel it in the way his body presses against mine, and I respond with equal fervor, my fingers digging into his back.
He breaks the kiss for a moment, his forehead resting against mine, both of us breathing heavily. But the pause is brief—his lips are on mine again, more passionate, more demanding, as his hips continue their relentless rhythm. The world around us blurs, and all that matters is the heat of our bodies, the taste of his lips, and the dizzying pleasure building inside me.
I grip his shoulders tightly, pulling him even closer as his lips leave mine to trail down my neck, sending shivers across my skin. Each kiss, each thrust, pushes me further toward the edge, and I know it won’t be long before we both come undone.
His lips trail down my neck, each kiss sending electric shocks of pleasure through my body, intensifying the heat already building within me. His hips move with a fierce, steady rhythm, driving me closer and closer to the brink. My body trembles beneath him, every nerve alight, and I arch into him, seeking more, needing more.
I can feel it—my bliss is just within reach, a growing storm that I can’t contain any longer. My fingers tighten in his hair, and I pull him into another searing kiss, desperate and hungry. Our lips crash together, breath mingling as our bodies move in perfect harmony. His moans vibrate against my mouth, fueling the fire between us.
“Astarion,” I gasp, breaking the kiss as the pleasure overwhelms me. His name falls from my lips like a prayer, and in that moment, I lose myself. The wave of ecstasy crashes over me, my body trembling violently as I cry out, my grip on him tightening as I ride the intensity of my pleasure.
He watches me, eyes dark with desire, and I feel him pulse inside me. His own control slips as he gasps my name, his hips stuttering as he reaches his climax. His body tenses, his breath ragged, and then he’s lost in his own release, moaning against my lips, his grip on me tightening as we fall into each other.
The room is filled with our moans, the sound of our shared ecstasy echoing in the air. His body presses closer, his lips brushing mine in a final, tender kiss as we both come down from the overwhelming high. Our breath mingles, bodies still intertwined, and for a long moment, we simply hold each other, basking in the afterglow of our shared release.
His body stills against mine, the intensity of our shared climax slowly ebbing away, leaving behind only our closeness. For a moment, neither of us moves, wrapped up in the quiet aftermath of passion. Our breaths are soft, slow, matching the rhythm of our hearts. I can still feel his presence inside me, the weight of his body, grounding me in this perfect, fleeting moment.
Astarion’s fingers trail lightly along my back, his touch gentle now, as if savoring every inch of me. I can feel the tenderness in every stroke, the raw emotion behind it. Slowly, he pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, his own gaze softened, filled with something deeper than lust—something almost vulnerable.
He leans in, brushing his lips against mine in a kiss that is far from the desperation of before. It’s slow, deliberate, and full of meaning, as if he’s trying to communicate everything he feels but hasn’t yet spoken. I melt into him, returning the kiss just as softly, my fingers caressing the side of his face.
When he finally pulls away, he keeps his forehead resting gently against mine, our breaths mingling in the small space between us. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, his thumb tracing a soft line across my skin. The look in his eyes makes my heart ache with its tenderness.
“I didn’t think…” he starts, his voice low, almost a whisper. “I didn’t think I could ever feel this again. Not after everything.” He pauses, his gaze searching mine. “But with you… it’s different. You make me feel alive.”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, a flood of emotion swelling in my chest at his words. I press my palm to his cheek, my thumb brushing over his lips as I smile at him.
"I can't imagine my life without you in it," I whisper, my voice soft and full of the connection we share.
Astarion’s eyes darken for a moment and then he kisses me again, but this time it’s gentle—so gentle, as if he’s afraid I might disappear if he presses too hard.
When he pulls back, his hand finds mine, our fingers entwining as he holds me close. His voice is quiet but steady when he speaks again, his eyes never leaving mine. "I love you," he says softly, the words hanging in the air between us, filled with so much meaning.
Tears slip down my cheeks now, but they’re happy tears, ones born from the overwhelming warmth of this moment. I lean into him, pressing my forehead to his as we both let those words sink in, binding us even more deeply.
He smiles, a real, genuine smile, one that reaches his eyes and lights up his face in a way that makes my heart swell. He pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me as we lie there together, basking in the quiet aftermath of everything we've shared. His hand strokes my hair, his breath steady against my skin, and I feel the strength of our connection deep in my soul.
In this moment, everything else fades away. It's just us, wrapped in each other's arms, bound by something far greater than the physical. The love between us, tender and raw, fills the space between our hearts, and I know without a doubt that this—he—is my home.
"I’ll never let you go," he murmurs, his voice soft but resolute, as if making a vow.
I press a kiss to his lips, my own silent promise. “And I’ll never leave,” I whisper back, feeling the truth of those words in every part of me.
We stay like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, content and at peace, knowing that whatever comes next, we’ll face it together. And for the first time in a long while, I feel whole—loved, cherished, and completely seen.