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The Mask & The Mirror [Chapter 9]

Explicit | Enemies to Lovers | Multi-Chapter | Contains BG3 Spoilers

Pairing: Ascended!Astarion x Original Female Character

Chapter Warning(s): Violence, violence against a child, mind manipulation, demeaning language, foul language, Astarion being fucking despicable.

Please let me know if there is anything that I missed!

Word Count: 3.2K

Astarion's dark silhouette cut through the fading light of twilight as he strode towards his looming palace, a foreboding structure against the deepening purple sky. With each step, a storm raged inside him, threatening to break free from its restraints. As he approached the stony facade of his sanctuary, the carefully crafted mask of calmness shattered, revealing the seething anger that had been building within him.

"Pathetic," he scoffed, his voice dripping with scorn as he thought of Gale. The wizard's audaciousness still burned in his mind like a festering wound. His crimson eyes blazed with fury, reflecting back the faint light from the torches that lined the palace corridor.

Mystra's Chosen? What a farce.

Moving towards Yuri's chamber, the man caught a faint sound - the meticulous scratching of a quill on parchment. His stride faltered for a moment before he regained his composure. The guard - a weak spawn lacking any of his master's grace or sharpness - stood at attention as Astarion approached.

"Do you hear that?" he asked, his voice as cold and sharp as an icicle.

The spawn's eyes darted nervously, stuttering out a response that only fueled the vampire's rage. In one swift motion, his hand shot out and dug into the servant's face with his claws, eliciting a strangled cry.

"I asked you a question," Astarion growled, punctuating each word with a vicious twist.

"N-no, Master," came the choked reply.

With a disgusted shove, Astarion sent the man crashing to the ground, leaving behind bloody gashes on his pallid skin.

"Useless wretch," he seethed. "Get on your feet and fetch me something from storage. Prove to me that your existence here hasn't been an entire waste of my efforts."

"Of course, m-my Lord," the spawn gasped, scrambling to his feet and darting down the long corridor.

"Something young!" He called after the frightened man.

Astarion's attention snapped back to the door, his senses on high alert as he noticed the scratching noise had stopped. A cruel smile twisted his features; the little fool thought she could outsmart him, did she? He moved through the room like a shadow, his steps silent and calculated, until he stood beside her bed.

"Astarion," Yuri greeted with false warmth, attempting to hide the fear that radiated from her body, "How nice of you to pay me a visit."

"Yuri," he replied, his voice dripping with honeyed venom as he took a seat at the edge of the mattress. His eyes roamed over her form like a predator stalking its prey before settling on her tense posture.

"You seem rather...," he purred, his gaze lingering on the hands that were folded neatly in her lap, "Anxious."

"Just a little surprised," she said softly, betraying her lie with a slight tremble in her voice. "You've been quite busy lately and I didn't know when I'd see you again."

"Ah, my apologies," he cooed with mock sincerity, his hand finding its way to her thigh and trailing upwards with deliberate slowness. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against hers lightly in a gentle kiss that held no real affection. His hand pressed further up her soft body until he found her wrist, coiling his fingers tightly around it as he lifted her ink-stained hand between them. A triumphant fire burned in his eyes.

"What a mess," he chided with false concern. "Whatever could have sullied your precious skin this way, my sweet?"

"It was an accident," she stammered, the fear in her voice evident as she tried to pull away from him. "I-I knocked into one of your display tables and...there was an inkpot and I tried to clean it up but...please, I'm sorry."

His hand closed around her wrist like a vise, pulling her forcefully towards him. Yuri could feel his intense gaze dissecting the bed in search of the elusive parchment he was convinced was nearby. She held her breath, knowing that he would not stop until he found it.

With a flick of his eyes to the bedside table, she felt her pulse quicken with panic. He reached out and opened the small drawer with practiced ease, revealing a tiny pad of parchment which he flipped through with calculated movements. His expression remained unreadable as he perused the pages, but Yuri could sense his satisfaction growing.

"Thieves' Cant...why am I not surprised?" His words were laced with amusement as he looked up at her with a knowing smile. "It suits you."

Yuri's silence hung heavily in the air, charged with unspoken secrets now laid bare between them. The glyphs of Thieves' Cant glared up at her like silent accusers, each stroke and curve a damning testament against her. A chill ran through her veins as the Sovereign's familiarity with the coded language became all too clear.

She fought to find words to defend herself, but they stuck in her throat like shards of glass. His smirk was sharp and dangerous, threatening to slice through the façade she had carefully crafted.

"Mmm," he purred almost affectionately, "You know, your... complexities run quite deeper than I expected."

Before she could form a response, a sudden knock on the door shattered the tense moment between them.

"Enter," Astarion commanded without taking his gaze off of her, leaving the woman to wonder how much longer she could keep her secrets hidden from him.

With a creak, the heavy door slowly swung open, revealing the spawn with a blood-soaked rag pressed against his cheek. Flanking him stood a young girl, her presence drawing a gasp from the Drow's lips. The child's eyes were a stark green, wide with fear and uncertainty. Astarion's sharp eyes briefly took in the girl's disheveled appearance, noting every detail of her torn clothing and bruised skin. The smell of fear and desperation hung heavily in the air. Yuri felt a shiver run down her spine at the cold calculation in Astarion's gaze - it was the predatory look that had always set her on edge, reminding her that there was nothing kind about this foul man.

"Yuri, do you object if I partake in a small repast?" He asked with mock civility.

"I..." Words failed to form on her trembling lips as shock and horror consumed her.

Astarion stood and sauntered towards the child, sending the spawn back to his post with a dismissive flick of his wrist.

"Your name, little one?" His voice was smooth like velvet but held an underlying steeliness that turned Yuri's stomach.

"Lenora," came the quivering reply.

"Hello, Lenora. My name is Astarion Ancunin, Vampire Ascendent and reigning monarch of Baldur’s Gate," he gestured grandly towards himself, "and that bewitching woman who graces my bed...her name is Yuri DeVir. Butcher of CalimKeep, Slayer of the Mad Mage, and my beautiful consort."

Astarion circled Lenora like a hawk eyeing its prey before the strike. His eyes glowed with an eerie light and with a gentle stoop, he locked eyes with the girl.

"Calm yourself," he whispered and Lenora's trembling subsided - not out of comfort but compelled obedience.

"Now, I'm quite famished...would you be so kind as to offer your neck to me, little one?" His voice was laced with hunger and false warmth.

"No!" Yuri's voice erupted from within, fueled by fury and fear. With a surge of adrenaline, she lunged from the bed towards Astarion, but his reflexes were not those of a mere elf. In one swift motion, he caught her by the neck with a vice-like grip and flung her back onto the bed.

“Behave yourself, dearest," The dark, gravelly sound of Astarion's warning sent ice coursing through her veins - his barbed words laced with a sinister promise, “Perhaps if you are a very, very good girl…maybe then I will consider not draining the brat dry.”

The girl before them trembled, baring her neck in forced submission as the vampire prepared to feast upon her lifeforce. As his sharp fangs pierced her skin, a cry of pain and fear echoed through the room, piercing the Drow's soul like a dagger. She could see Lyra, her beloved Mouse, superimposed on the young girl's terrified face. It was too much for her to bear.

"Enough!" she roared inwardly.

Outstretching her hand, a pulsating eldritch energy began to take form. She focused this surge of power that was coursing through her and willed the weapon that had once been bound to her soul to manifest. The air crackled, responding to her call, as the ether swirled and coalesced around her palm. There, shimmering with a strange blackened energy, the dark blade formed—a crystalline manifestation of her will.

With a primal growl, Yuri launched herself from the bed and charged towards Astarion. Her eyes burned with an unquenchable rage as she watched him feed from the young girl. Taking a fistful of his soft curls in her hand, the Drow pulled back forcefully, compelling his fangs to retreat from their gory meal and revealing the vulnerable flesh of his throat. In one swift movement, she pressed the razor-sharp edge of her blade against his skin, drawing a thin line of blood from the powerful vampire's neck.

A refreshing change of pace.

"Let her go, Astarion," Yuri spoke through clenched teeth, the glow of the weapon reflecting in her eyes. "Now."

Astarion’s fingers unfurled like pale petals as the child slipped from his icy embrace, the last tendril of his grip releasing into a gesture of faux surrender. He stood, arms slightly raised and palms facing outward, his head still tipped back to reveal the column of his throat. The deep red liquid of the child's blood painted a macabre smile upon his lips, trickling down his chin in rivulets that dripped onto his neck's alabaster canvas.

"Run," Yuri hissed through clenched teeth, her voice low and menacing, the blade in her hand a mere whisper away from rending Astarion’s flesh. The girl, truly just a small wisp of a thing with wide eyes reflecting knowledge of a world far too cruel, didn't hesitate. Her small feet padded against the stone floor, a quiet echo as she vanished into the shadows.

"Should your brood dare lay another finger on her," She warned, her gaze piercing into the spawn who had brought the child into this living nightmare, "I'll carve a path of destruction so vast, not even the gods will be able to recognize your sundered remains."

The man stood frozen near the doorway, looking on as though he had found himself caught in an invisible web, his eyes flitting between Yuri’s intense glare and his Master’s disarmingly calm demeanor. A tremor of fear betrayed him, a subtle quiver in his stance that spoke volumes of the horror he fully believed she could unleash.

"Your Ladyship presents quite the compelling argument," Astarion remarked, the edges of his mouth curling into a grin that held the echoes of a thousand unsaid thoughts. His amusement was evident in every curve of his lips, stained with the innocent blood of a child.

"M-master?" The spawn's voice cracked, uncertainty lacing the single word as he sought guidance from the high-elf before him.

"Everything is fine," The Ascendent drawled, his tone soothing yet laced with an authority that left no room for discourse. "Leave us."

The spawn nodded once, a jerky, puppet-like motion, before backing away. He turned, nearly stumbling in his haste, and exited with the soft click of the door sealing shut behind him.

Astarion’s tongue clicked, a sound as sharp and precise as the gleam in his eyes. "My dearest Yuri," he purred, "aren't you just brimming with surprises?"

"Shut up," She hissed, her grip on the hilt of her blade tightening, pressing in just enough to draw another bead of blood from the shallow cut on his throat. It trickled down, a scarlet line stark against his porcelain skin.

Yet, Astarion laughed—a deep, resonant sound that echoed through the dimly lit chamber. "It's terribly rude," he mocked, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards, "to come between a man and his dinner, you know."

"Rude?!" Yuri's voice was a storm, her anger crackling through the air around her. "That was a child, you fucking monster!"

"Tsk, Tsk . Such harsh words, my love." His tone was deceptively calm, but before she could retort, Astarion moved with supernatural swiftness. Her throat suddenly constricted under his iron grip, her own blade knocked away, skittering across the cold stone floor. His other hand pinned her against the wall, pressing her back with such force that the rough stones bit into her flesh. He pulled a dagger from his belt, its edge cold and menacing against her skin.

His face was no longer serene; it had twisted into an expression of unbridled fury. "Is that what you wish to see? A monster?" The words came out low and guttural. "I can oblige, my dear. But I shall warn you…you have never witnessed true evil - not in your entire miserable life."

The woman clawed at his arm, her eyes burning with defiance even as she struggled for breath. Then, spitting in his face, she snarled, "Ohh, I’ve seen evil, you pretentious fuck. I’ve been made to lay with monsters not even you could conjure up in that sickened mind. Funnily enough, they always seem to wear the skin of men like you."

His bitter smile was like a slash across his face. "There are no men like me."

"Please," She spat back, a harsh laugh escaping her lips as if the very idea was ludicrous. "There are always men like you—they're fucking everywhere ." She glared at him, her gaze unyielding.

"You think you’re special? That you alone understand the depths of the cruelty of this world?" Yuri's words were venomous darts, each one aimed to wound. "How foolish you are. Look outside yourself, you stupid man! Those living under your rule, those trapped within these walls... they too know what cruelty looks like."

She scoffed, the rage and disdain continuing to drip from her lips, "There is nothing special about you, Astarion. You are not unique. You are hardly even interesting . Tyranny is tyranny, no matter how you dress it."

In the intensity of their standoff, Astarion's grip faltered ever so slightly, his dagger still poised at her throat, yet something flickered across his features. Not quite doubt, but the shadow of a question that hadn't dared to surface until now. The flickering shadows danced off the walls, casting a ghostly pall over the chamber. Yuri's breath came in ragged gasps, her focus sharp as she scrutinized his eyes—those crimson pools that seemed to glow with malice as the silence between them stretched on for far too long.

"Did you really think you could hold me forever?" Her voice was a whisper, yet it carried a thread of steel.

The vampire sneered, tightening his grip on her, the blade at her throat promising silent oblivion. "You belong to me, Yuri. This defiance of yours is cute, but you will submit. Of that, I am certain."

But there... there was the falter, a brief slackening of his fingers, a lapse that might have been imperceptible to anyone who hadn't been studying every shift in his muscles, every twitch beneath his perfect pale skin. She seized the moment, twisting his wrist with a sudden burst of strength; the blade slipped away from her flesh. Sweeping her leg with precision honed by years of combat, the woman struck him hard between his legs.

Astarion's face contorted; his grasp loosened as he doubled over, his hands instinctively shielding himself. Yuri didn't waste a second. Her mind reached out to the dark energies that bound her blade to her will, and with a thought, the familiar hilt slammed into her palm.

"Far better men than you have tried," she hissed, slashing the air between them. The blade kissed his cheek, drawing blood—a shallow cut, but enough to mar his perfection.

He reeled back, fury igniting in his eyes.

"Insolent little bitch!" he roared, recovering with preternatural speed. His claws, those cruel extensions of his power, sunk deep into her shoulder like daggers of ice. She stifled a scream as he yanked her toward him, his other hand plunging a blade into her side with a viciousness that left her vision swimming.

"You will yield," He seethed through gritted teeth.

"Go to hell," She ground out, her pain fueling her resolve.

She clung to him not for support but to act as sort of anchor for her burgeoning power. Eldritch energy crackled around her fingertips, a manifestation of her fury. With a cry, she let go of the elf and unleashed it, blasting him backward through the air. His form smashed against the far wall, and for a heartbeat, the chamber fell silent save for the ragged breaths of captive and captor.

Yuri's side screamed in protest as she yanked his blade from her flesh, the metal slick with her own blood. But she couldn't—wouldn't—let it slow her down. Staggering to the door, she threw it open and stumbled into the corridor, the map etched into her memory guiding her frantic search for escape.

"Where do you think you're going?" Astarion shouted after her, venom dripping from each word.

"Somewhere you can't follow!" She spat back, her voice echoing as she sprinted toward freedom, the pain serving as a constant companion urging her onward as she approached the window that stood at the far end of the corridor. Every step was a promise to herself: she would not be a pawn in this man’s ghastly scheme, no matter how he hunted her.

Her gaze lingered for a moment on the rain-splattered glass, the large window framing a somber cityscape swathed in shades of twilight and storm. The drumming of water against stone resonated with the tumultuous rhythm of her heart. She traced a finger down the cold pane, the droplets racing like the scattered thoughts she struggled to rein in.

The woman’s attention was briefly pulled away as she caught sight of the vampire emerging into the hallway from her peripheries. Their eyes met, two sets of orbs—lavender and crimson—locked in a silent battle. She could not help but to feel the weight of his stare, the predatory look that lingered behind his gaze. But she was no quarry to be hunted; she was a survivor; now and always.

With a swift incantation, "Veloce ventis!" She vanished from his sight, the spell carrying her out of her gilded prison and into the dark streets of Baldur’s Gate.

She reappeared in the labyrinthine alleyways below, the stench of the city—a blend of wet cobblestones, refuse, and the distant echo of despair—filling her senses. The freshness of the rain did little to cleanse the pervasive odor of urban decay. A stark difference to the relative warmth and comfort of Astarion’s palace, but at last…she was free. Now, she needed only to find her way out of the city, to lands beyond the vampire’s reach. Pressing onward, she promised once more to herself that she would return to her family. That she would be free and happy and live the life that she had already fought so hard for. She belonged to no one but herself, and she would fight with every fiber of her being to keep it that way.

A/N: She's out! She's out and about, motherfuckers! For how long, we shall see - this certainly wasn't how she had planned for things to go but he kind of forced her hand there a bit. Anyway, I did not get the chance to comb through this update quite as thoroughly as I would have liked to, so please let me know if I fucked up anywhere. At a cursory glance it looked alright to me, but I've been dealing with a cluster-headache for a few days now, so I don't exactly trust myself. Anyway, I hope this update finds you well, I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope your holiday was absolutely wonderful! If you're feeling extra generous, please feel free to leave me a reply, a private message, or whatever you'd like and I'll eat that shit up because I'll be honest, I'm deeply insecure when it comes to my work but fuck if I'm not gonna keep cranking it out anyway. Until next time! XoXo

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