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iamjucie · 19 hours

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A History in Lessons

Chapter 9: "Your Most Prized Spawn" (final pt.)

(final pt. of the “Your Most Prized Spawn” part of the story, not the entire fic A History in Lessons)

“What?! Were you not hysterical?” Astarion stands up and follows you, standing close to your back.

You whip around and put a finger into his chest. “Did it not occur to you to even ask why I was in hysterics?! Why was I so utterly ravaged?! That man you were chumming it up with while I was forced into submission fucking assaulted me. R*ped me and drained me of my blood.”

His eyes grow cold, and he is looking away from you at the ground. He stands with his arms crossed and doesn’t respond.

“Did you hear me?! He fucking r*ped me Astarion.” You are in his face now, screaming. Still nothing.

You and Astarion leave the Ravenloft castle and talked about everything that happened.

CW: Domestic Violence Word count: 1.9k AO3 Link

“I suppose one more drink couldn’t hurt.”

----

“Six Hundred and ten, six hundred and eleven, six hundred and twelve…”

It’s been around twenty minutes and one and a half drinks since the “one more drink” that Astarion insisted he should stay for. It’s been a little over ten minutes since you’ve decided to count the seconds to pass the time.

You’ve been tuning in and out of the world outside your mind. The world where your body is present, standing politely at Astarion’s side. This party was a nightmare even with full bodily autonomy, now that it’s stripped from you it’s even more unbearable. Whenever you pay attention to your surroundings, you despise what you see.

When your counting was at around two hundred, you heard the other vampire lords praising Astarion for managing to obtain such a “valuable spawn” as yourself. Impressed by him having the “Hero of Baldur’s Gate'' succumb to his every will.

So, you’ve decided it’s best to stay in your mind. And count.

----

“One thousand one hundred and ninety five, one thousand one hundred and ninety six, one thousand one hundred and ninety seven…”

The next time you tuned into your surroundings, you saw an elegant vampire woman sitting upon Astarion’s lap feeding him the grapes that were only meant for decoration. She pops them into his mouth and asks him to describe the taste to her. She hasn’t eaten any fruit for centuries.

His devilish gaze leaves the woman on his lap and enters yours for a moment. After he looked at you, your vision went dark. You couldn’t see your surroundings and were forced into your mind.

When your counting reached around two thousand is when your vision began to return to you slowly. There is an ache behind your eyes after vision is taken and returned, akin to a migraine.

You can feel your muscles aching, stiffening up as you’ve been in the same position for thirty minutes. Can’t he compel you to just bend your knee or something? You don’t even care if he is still compelling you to be calm and quiet, you just want to move.

----

“Five thousand four hundred and twenty two, five thousand four hundred and twenty three, five thousand four hundred and twenty four…”

Most guests have left by now. The celebrations have finished and now it appears to only be the most powerful lords left. It looks more like a business meeting than a party now. Men sitting around the head table discussing plans, arguing and debating different strategies for world domination.

Your vision is glazed by the exhaustion of standing completely still. Or, it may be the effects of being under such strong compulsion for a long period of time. You don’t know for sure, you find it difficult to formulate a full thought. It feels as though your ability to use your mind has dulled.

The men stand up, bringing your focus out of the mind palace you’ve cultivated for yourself for a moment. There’s five people left; Zarovich, Astarion, two lords you don’t know, and the monster that almost killed you.

They push in their chairs and begin to give farewells to one another, cordially shaking hands and providing contact information. Astarion is shaking hands with the monster and he pulls your lover into his chest and whispers something in his ear. You can’t hear what he said. The world has a filter over it as if it were an abstract oil painting. And your mind is unable to interpret your own thoughts properly, let alone attempt to read his lips.

Gods finally, it’s time to leave. You wait for Astarion to drop his compulsion on you, surely he knows you can handle your own now. Surely he knows that you’ve learned your lesson.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he takes control of your movements once again. Your legs begin to move to walk out of the ballroom. The first movements are accompanied with loud popping of your joints, Astarion looks at your legs startled by the sound. He laughs slightly to himself. Surely the eight goblets of wine are giving him the giggles. He isn’t laughing at you, you reassure yourself.

You both walk out of the hall and the carriage is waiting on the road at the bottom of the stairs. Every step you take down the stairs is unbearably painful. Standing and not moving for so long had made your muscles and ligaments rigor.

Being under compulsion is strangely exhausting, you are finding it difficult to be present. You glimpse in and out of reality, as if what your eyes are showing your mind is but a slideshow of photographs. Completely separate from yourself.

You approach the carriage door, Astarion opens it for you and simultaneously has you climb into the cabin. You move over to the opposing seat and Astarion sits to your right, closing the cabin door behind him.

You are sitting, back straight and your hands placed politely on your lap; the way he has set you up to be. He’s going to drop the compulsion any second now. There’s no vampire lords around to judge you anymore, so there’s no need to force you to submit now. Right?

The carriage begins to move and his hold on your body and mind isn’t let go yet. What is he waiting for? Who is this for?

Several minutes pass and you are in the thick of the Shadowfell, far away from the castle. Suddenly, he drops the hold and gives you back full control of your body.

You scream as loud as you are able to. Every muscle in your body aches and stings, your head is pounding, your vision is swirling. You look over to Astarion. He is not looking at you. His legs are crossed and he is looking out the window, biting his thumb nail.

You continue to wail, you mind reeling. Recollecting everything that happened, it’s too much.

Your screams and sobs continue uninterrupted for the entire ride back to Baldur’s Gate.

----

By the time the carriage pulls up to the Crimson Palace, you’ve exhausted yourself. You’ve expelled every ounce of energy you had in your crying and begging to whatever God would listen to make sense of what happened to you. No Gods answered. You only received a cold shoulder from your lover.

You walk silently into the entrance of your home, eyes vacant of life. Your face is sore from crying. Your head is pounding from both Astarion’s extended hold on your mind and from sobbing.

Following Astarion, you end up in the den. He sits down onto the couch with a loud sigh and leans back, arms against the top of the cushions and a hand over the top of his face. He knows a conversation he doesn’t want to have is bound to happen, you can tell.

You walk up to him, hovering over him. You pause for a beat, waiting to see if he will start the conversation first. He doesn’t. “We need to talk about what happened.” you state plainly.

He scoffs and looks up at you. “Oh? Is that so? Whatever do we need to talk about, my dearest?” he asks you, patronizingly.

Rage fills your body, you can feel the pressure of the little blood in your body rise. “You saw me having a fucking panic attack and took control of me. For hours, while you had the grandest of times. Does that ring a fucking bell?!” You are in his face, voice stern and volume rising.

“Tav you were in hysterics,” he responds with the same intonation as you. “You left me no other choice!”

You stand up straight and turn around and laugh to yourself. If you don’t indulge in the ridiculousness of it all, you’re not sure what you would do.

“What?! Were you not hysterical?” Astarion stands up and follows you, standing close to your back.

His eyes grow cold, and he is looking away from you at the ground. He stands with his arms crossed and doesn’t respond.

“Did you hear me?! He fucking raped me Astarion.” You are in his face now, screaming. Still nothing.

You lift your hand, about to slap him across his face. Without even looking at you, he grabs it before it makes contact with his cheek. His grip grows in strength, your hand cracking as he turns his gaze to you. You’re curling into his grip, the pain agonizing. Every bone in your hand is shattered before he lets go, throwing you to the ground. Your breath wavers as you stare at your hand, horrified at its disfigured shape.

“I heard you, you wench.” He put a finger in your face. “Don’t you dare think you can lay a hand on me.”

You hold your hurt hand with the other and look up at him. His eyebrows are furrowed and there's something in his eyes you’ve never seen before. You don’t recognize this man. It’s the same stranger you saw at the ball, the man impressing vampire lords with his charm. This isn’t your lover.

He turns away from you to look out the window of the den. It overlooks the garden. He places a hand on his chin as he gazes, pondering something.

A few minutes pass before he interrupts the pregnant silence in the room. “He’s a very powerful ally to have, you know. We will remain in his good graces.” he says facing away from you.

You look from your mangled hand to him, horrified. Trying to think of a response is impossible. You have nothing to say, until your thoughts leak from your lips.

“Who are you?” you whimper.

He closes his eyes with a slight chuckle coming from his lips. Still not facing you, he walks up to a cabinet and sifts through various potions and elixirs until he finds a healing potion. He takes it in his hand and walks over to where you are collapsed on the ground.

“I am your eternity, darling.” he says as he holds the potion out to you. “Drink this.” you take it from him, shaking.

He begins to walk out of the den into the hallway that leads to your shared chambers. He stops and turns his head over his shoulder slightly. “I am heading off to bed now, I will see you there when you are ready.” he says before continuing to the bedroom.

You stare at the potion in your hand before drinking it dry. You watch as your hand cracks and bends back into place from the effects of both your vampiric healing abilities and the potion.

A few minutes pass, your hand is back to normal as if nothing happened. Your eyes glaze over with a feeling of numbness. A sigh escapes your lips as you stand up and head to the chambers to join Astarion in bed.

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