@think-dead - Tumblr Blog

Lost and Found

Chapter 7 - Awakening to the Unexpected

A/N: Hello! I lied from my previous A/N, Astarion is still very much a sweet boy in this chapter lol. I ended up writing far more than I expected to, which is why it took me sooooo long to post this. (it doesn't help that I got writer's block in the process), next chapter WILL be angsty though :))). This is more of fluff, and people revealing secrets about their feelings for others. Hope you like it <3

Pairing: F!Durge, OC (Amaya), Tiefling, Selunite Cleric X Spawn Astarion

Rating: Nothing but still 18+!

WC: About 3800

Previous Chapters: Prologue | Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6

Story:

The first thing Amaya heard was the gentle cooing of morning doves when her body first started to wake. She remained lingering in the hazy space between dreaming and waking, her eyes still remained closed as she nestled in her blanket. Usually, she would wake hot and sweaty from the heat trapped in her bedding, but this morning, her mattress felt unexpectedly cool. She burrowed deeper , savoring the chill, until a sudden, heavy waft of rosemary and bergamot filled her senses. Then a soft groan and the feeling of strong arms began pulling her close.

Her eyes flashed open as she shot upright.

“SHIT!” She blurted out, much louder than intended.

Astarion's crimson red eyes fluttered open. He stretched languidly, completely unbothered. “Mmmm, and a very good morning to you too.”

“Oh gods- Astarion, I’m sorry…. I didn’t mean to fall asleep here last night.” Amaya’s cheeks began to burn red with embarrassment. She then hid her face in her hands, shielding herself from him.

Astarion shifted, propping himself up against a pillow, and gently pried her hands away. “It’s okay, my dear. In fact, I didn’t mind at all.” His cold hand lingered on hers, interlocking his fingers between hers.

“Really? You’re sure I didn’t overstay my welcome? I half expected you to kick me out after the first snore.” Amaya scooted closer to him, leaning against the same pillow he had claimed.

Astarion’s lips curled into a mischievous smile.“Oh, I can assure you, I thought about it, but you looked far too peaceful. I suppose I can forgive the snoring.. For now.”

Amaya gasped, clutching her free hand to cover her mouth. “Excuse you! I do not snore! That was a joke!”

He pressed a hand over his heart with exaggerated sincerity. “Darling, I am the literal paragon of truth. And by the gods, you were loud– similar sounding to an otyugh bellowing the sewers of Waterdeep.”

Amaya stared at him, her eyes widening in shock with her mouth agape. Her expression began to deepen into a small frown as she watched Astarion burst into a fit of laughter, doubling down over, and wiping tears from his eyes.

He conceded, still grinning when he finally noticed Amaya’s shocked expression morphed into a pout.“Alright, alright, I’m just joking. You barely made a peep, but you toss and turn quite a bit.”

She rolled her eyes with a huff and gave him a sharp pinch on his arm, causing the elf to yelp dramatically. Amaya then saw his fangs, she never noticed them until now, they were long, elegant and much sharper than her own fangs, only his canines standing out while hers were much more crowded.

He was strange, handsome for sure, but overall strange. Part of her wondered if he had some hidden lineage of drow or szarkai in his ancestry. It would certainly explain his vermillion eyes, the ghostly pallor of his skin, and his sometimes callous behavior.

But it wasn’t just his striking looks or demeanor that she found odd. Just last night she noticed how rarely he seemed to breathe, and when he did, it felt deliberate, almost practiced. And how his skin was always cool to the touch– cooler than anyone she’d met. Amaya herself ran hot, always overheating in a mountain of blankets when she fell asleep, but last night, pressed against Astarion, she’d stayed comfortable. It was a nice, welcome change to wake up not drenched in sweat but Astarion still remaining cool with both their body heat combined was still odd. She had to ask the reasoning for at least one of his oddities.

“Astarion?”

“Hm?” He hummed, half-lost in his thoughts.

“I have to ask, are you always this cold? Usually when I wake up, I feel like a furnace, burning from the inside out, but with you I felt.. just right. You're not freezing, but definitely cooler than me or anyone else that I know of. This isn't the first time I've noticed how chilly you are either. Even now, your hand is quite cool to the touch."

Astarion lifted their interlocked hands, placing them onto his lap.“Oh darling, I’m dead.” he said, his voice falling flat before he let out a small chuckle, his eyes avoiding hers.

She snorted. “Yeah, and I’m a vampire.”

Astarion’s eyes immediately locked onto Amaya’s, widening in response to her teasing.. Amaya, confused at his expression, trailed off. “Seriously, though, I’ve never met anyone as cold as you.”

Astarion then let out a high and nervous laugh. “I.. uhhh.. I’ve always been this way. Just cold all the time.”

“Oh, that must be awful, even though I run hot when I sleep, I still hate being cold.”

He shrugged, trying to play it off. “It's not too bad, you get used to it.”

Astarion gently ran his fingers through her hair, pushing a single curl away from her eyes and behind her ear. His hand then lingered, as he studied her for a moment.

“What is it?” Amaya asked.

He titled his head, squinting “I’m just now noticing that you have a small tattoo behind your ear, it looks like a flower.”

“I do?” Amaya’s voice was raised slightly in disbelief. But suddenly, a wave of memories came crashing back to her: it was an older elven man she had seen in her dreams before, he had silver in his black hair and olive skin, embracing an elven woman with hair like fire and pale skin. Both adorned with small rose tattoos on their necks. She remembered being spun in the air by the man, her younger, smaller self laughing and echoing the words, “Daddy, put me down!” The man began to say something, but his words were lost and muffled, although his accent sounded so much like hers yet much thicker.

Astarion’s voice pulled her back from her memory, “It’s quite small. You wouldn’t notice unless you were looking for it. And you always have your hair down or behind your ears.”

Amaya frowned, thinking. “Is it a rose?”

He leaned in, staring more closely at the tattoo. “Yes, about the size of a gold coin. I wish I could show you, but I don't think you could see it through one single looking glass”.

Her brows furrowed as she pieced together the memory. “I- I think it's something I share.. With my adoptive family.”

“Adoptive family?”

“Yes, I just remembered– it was an older elven couple; they both had similar tattoos.”

Astarion’s face lit up, “Well, it looks like you’ve remembered something positive. Is there anything else that you remember of them?”

“I dreamed of my adoptive father before, but the dream was strange. He told me to run, but everything went fuzzy after that. But, I can remember his accent, it's very similar to mine.”

“Hmmm, looks like you’ll have to do some digging to recover more memories then. I do quite like your accent, by the way, it's cute. Not many Baldurians I’ve met have it. Are you sure you’re from there?”

“I think I am…but I don’t know. Maybe I grew up somewhere else, then moved to the city.”

“That could be it.” Astarion rubbed Amaya's hand absentmindedly, sending butterflies swirling in her stomach. The two sat in silence before a voice rang outside Astarion’s tent.

“Amaya?” Shadowheart’s tone was gentle, signaling that the rest of camp was likely to wake soon.

“Oh, it's Shadowheart, usually in the morning she does my hair and we talk of plans. I should probably get going.” Amaya began gathering her things but paused at Astarion’s tent entrance.

“Astarion.. I want to thank you. For everything. It was sweet.” She turned to face him, staring into his crimson red eyes, his brows now furrowed. Amaya leaned in cupping his face with her hands, pressing a long but sweet kiss on his cheek. The sensation of the kiss illuminated everything within her, her heart began to flutter and heat ignited in her lower belly. She wanted more, more than just a peck on his cheek, she wanted to close the distance between them, and to entangle their limbs with one another. She wanted to feel his lips on every inch and ridge on her body, losing herself in him completely. Gods, did she really want him.

But it wasn’t just the desire for him that she wanted, for the first time in days, her mind was blissfully blank– no nightmares, no tadpoles, no looming threats. She felt safe.

As she reluctantly pulled back from the kiss, a sudden flash of light crackled between them– the light didn’t burn, but starlted the both of them.

“I’m sorry, I have no idea what that was,” Amaya said, her eyes wide with confusion.

Astarion’s features looked as if they had softened, his eyes rounder and brighter– similar to when Amaya first healed him just a few days ago. His arms wrapped around her waist pulling her closer until she practically sat on his lap, their lips only inches apart. “It’s alright, I don't mind.” Astarion murmured, his voice now low and sultry.

Amaya’s thoughts pleaded with desperation, screaming for him to press his lips onto hers– but then another louder, slightly more frantic yell from outside his tent called out.

“Amaya?? Where are you?” Shadowheart called out.

Amaya sighed softly, closing her eyes in defeat. “She probably thinks something happened if she’s checked my tent. I should go.. but we should do this again, perhaps another time.”

“I’d like that.” Astarion’s face fell, but he managed a small smile as he released his grasp from her waist.

As she stepped outside of Astarion’s tent, she blinked at the pale dawn light, her eyes adjusting to the change. She spotted Shadowheart’s familiar fit, full-figured silhouette standing by Amaya’s own red tent– the half-elf’s hands planted firmly against her hips, tapping her foot with a steady rhythm of annoyance. She turned in a huff, when she caught Amaya emerging halfway out of Astarion’s tent and her eyes widened. Without hesitation, she rushed over to Amaya, towering over the tiefling by just a few inches, grabbing her hand, and marched her straight into the half-elf’s deep purple tent.

Shadowheart wasted no time, practically shoving Amaya onto the bedroll, where she sat, cross-legged and folding her hands neatly onto her lap. Her bright green eyes narrowed, and her lips pressed into a thin line before the half-elf spoke without missing a beat.

“Did you sleep with him?” She asked sharply.

“No.” Amaya replied.

Shadowheart’s eyes narrowed further. “Then why were you in his tent so early this morning? Your hair is a mess, and your nightdress is practically falling off.”

Amaya shifted in her seat uncomfortably, “Well, technically I did sleep with him…. but not like that. I woke up from terrible nightmares last night and I didn’t want to be alone. I saw his candle was still burning, so I asked if he could keep me company. Surprisingly, he let me stay. We just talked about the nightmares, spent time together and then I just fell asleep on him… It was an accident.” Amaya trailed off, failing to mention the kiss on Astarion’s cheek and the emotions she felt this morning but maybe Shadowheart didn’t have to know that part.

With a sigh, Shadowheart knelt behind her and began to comb the tieflings curls with her fingers, reaching for the curl pomade that Astarion had practically hurled at her head two days prior after the half-elf’s attempt at detangling Amaya’s hair turned into a frizzy disaster. The pomade smelled of honey and sunflowers as Shadowheart warmed the waxy stuff between her fingers and worked it gently into the tieflings curls. Once she was satisfied with her work, she started braiding the front strands away from Amaya’s face.

“Are your nightmares related to the bad thoughts and impulses you mentioned the other day?” Shadowheart asked, her voice softer now.

“I don’t know. It could be the tadpole,” Amaya admitted. “How come you never told me about my tattoo behind my ear?” she asked, now trying to change the subject.

Shadowheart shrugged. “I thought you knew about it.”

“I didn’t.”

“I’ll pick up a second looking glass at the grove so you can see it better before we head off to fix the goblin traps.” Shadowheart then made a thoughtful noise as she moved to secure the braid and the rest of her curls into a ponytail before returning to the main topic“ Do you have feelings for Astarion?”

Amaya hesitated, picking at her nailbeds raw. “Absolutely not.” Her voice came out high-pitched, as the obvious lie fell from her lips.

Shadowheart snorted, “You're not usually this terrible at lying! I know you often seek him out after praying to your goddess. During battle, you’re always at his side. And not to mention I’ve caught you staring at him longingly more than a dozen times….”

“I do not stare at him longingly!” Amaya protested.

“Yes, you do!”

Amaya rolled her eyes in defeat. “Fine! I may have a small crush on him. But he would never feel the same way and could do so much better. He's too perfect, and I'm.. me.”

Shadowheart just shook her head and tugged Amaya’s ponytail– hard.

“Ow!” Amaya yelped.

“Maybe that’ll knock some sense into you,” Shadowheart said, leaning to the side to meet Amaya’s gaze. “You’re beautiful, loyal, funny, and sometimes way too sweet for your own good. Honestly, if anyone could do better, it’s you. While I don’t trust Astarion and his intentions towards any of us, he certainly does have a thing for you. And he may not be the only person that has a thing for you… you have managed to attract several different suitors.”

Amaya scoffed. “You must be joking.”

“You'd be surprised. I’ve caught Astarion, Gale, and even Wyll casting admiring glances your way. How did you not notice?”

“I... I guess I’ve been preoccupied with keeping everyone alive,” Amaya admitted, her voice falling flat.

Shadowheart chuckled softly, “And you are doing a great job at that so far.”

“Thanks, I’m trying my best. But, if what you said is true, maybe Astarion actually did want to kiss me after I kissed his cheek earlier.” The secret slipped from Amaya’s lips unwittingly. “However, I had no idea the other two boys were looking at me that way. I’m not too sure how I feel about that.”

“It might not just be the boys casting glances in your direction.” Shadowheart hinted at, but then realization dawned and her eyes widened in shock. “Wait. Did you just say you kissed him?!”

Amaya’s cheeks began to burn red with embarrassment and buried her face in her hands hiding from Shadowheart’s scolding face. “It was only his cheek! Please, promise me you won’t tell anyone. Or mention my crush.”

Shadowheart made a click with her tongue and softened her tone, “Your secret's safe with me. For what it’s worth, I don’t know what you see in him. He’s slick, sadistic and arguably the least reliable person in our group. Not to mention, his lines and flirtations that he directs at everyone he meets seem like they would come from a 2 copper paperback read by little girls.“

Amaya sighed, resting chin on her knees."I can’t explain it. It’s as if I can glimpse a different side to him beneath the flirtatious lines and callous behavior. There’s a sweet, hidden depth to him, why else would he let me stay with him last night? I don't know, for some reason, I’ve just felt drawn to him since the beginning... He also makes me laugh a lot.”

“Did he make you laugh when he pulled a dagger at your throat?” Shadowheart quipped.

Amaya rolled her eyes at Shadowheart, refusing to give her the satisfaction of an answer.

Shadowheart gently tightened Amaya’s ponytail. “I’ve made it clear that I don’t trust him and likely never will. But if you choose to pursue this crush and he ends up hurting you or your feelings, I will personally torture him, and trust me I know plenty of ways on how to torture an individual.”

Amaya raised a brow at the half-elf, half-amused, half-concerned.“How in the hells do you know plenty of ways to torture someone?”

Shadowheart ignored the question, fastening a gold hair ornament into the center of Amaya’s ponytail. The intricate piece featured a carved crescent-moon into the center and Selûne’s holy symbol– the Moonmaiden’s eyes, encircled by the seven silver stars etched into the plating. The shape of the piece was almost a match for Shadowheart’s own, hers being silver– though hers bore resemblance to Shar’s holy symbol, the twin sister, and eternal enemy of Selûne.

Amaya had quickly learned to not question her friend’s faith; every time she attempted to broach the subject, Shadowheart would get dismissive. But the nagging suspicion that Shadowheart might be a Sharran, did trouble Amaya deeply. Yet, Amaya herself was still piecing together her own devotion to Selûne, learning more each day from prayer books and old scrolls.

Shadowheart adjusted the hair piece and made a face. “It would look better without this gaudy thing from your goddess.” She muttered, the word "goddess" dripped with venom and disgust from her lips.

In no time, Shadowheart swiftly began to braid her own hair into a neat lower bun. But, suddenly, a flare of light glimmered from Shadowheart’s hand. She winced, pain flickering across her face as she tried to secure the last braid.

“Are you well?” Amaya pressed. Her round eyes locked onto Shadowheart’s as she composed herself, adjusting her fringe.

“I’m fine,” Shadowheart snapped, a little too quickly

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Now stop fussing.” Shadowheart remarked coldly.

Before Amaya could push any further, Gale's voice rang out, summoning them to breakfast. The smell of cheesy eggs, spicy sausage, crispy fresh toast, and hot coffee drifted through the air. Amaya walked slowly over to the campfire, spotting Wyll, Astarion and Lae’zel already gathered. Wyll was locked into a heated debate with Lae’zel as his voice was laced with frustration. “ I don't fight to be flattered, Lae'zel. I fight to save lives.”

The githyanki scoffed, making her usual “Chk” sound, rolling her eyes, while Astarion had a smile beaming from his face as he watched the conflict unfold before him.

Amaya was just reaching for a plate when Gale suddenly tapped her on her shoulder. He looked paler than usual, exhausted, his fingers now twiddling as his brown eyes flickered down at his boots.

“Amaya… would you mind joining me for a moment? In private?”

Confusion flashed upon her features but she nodded, following him a few paces away from the campfire, just far enough for privacy.

Gale cleared his throat, darting his eyes between her and the ground. “There’s something I need to talk to you about. It's, well, rather important. We’ve been traveling on the road together for a little while now, haven't we? Survived some perils, overcame some obstacles. Ever since you were kind enough to free me from that stone, I’ve seen you demonstrate remarkable guile and courage.”

Amaya listened, her brows now furrowed.

He pressed on, his voice trembling a bit. “The way you diffuse the tension between Zevlor and Aradin. The way you stood in front of a crossbow to prevent a murder. And the way you saved that young child from becoming harpy food. In short; I’ve grown to trust you, Amaya.”

She managed a small smile.“That's very gratifying to hear.”

He hesitated, but then forced himself to meet her eyes.“The reason I make a point of saying this is that I’ve grown confident to tell you something I’ve yet to tell another living soul. Except for my cat.” Gale chuckled a bit at his words and brushed a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. “You see, I have this… condition. Very different from the parasite we share, but just as deadly.”

“Oh, Gale. Would you like me to pray on your behalf? Selûne might offer some guidance, maybe even a cure.” She reached out, touching his arm gently.

“Thank you for the offer, but the treatment for my condition is very specific. What comes down to is this: every so often I need to get my hands on a powerful magic item and absorb the Weave inside.”

Amaya’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, are you telling me you are addicted to magic?”

“No-no, it's nothing like that. Magic isn't a narcotic to me, it's quite literally a life-saver. I promise you I would not burden anyone anyone other than myself with this were the states not so high, and the means of obtaining such artifacts challenging for a humble wizard to face alone…. It’s been days since I last consumed an artefact- since before we were abducted. It's only a matter of time before my craving returns. This is why I turn to you, I… I need help to find magic items to consume, this is vital. Dare I say it, critical.”

She squeezed his hand. “You could have told me sooner. Of course I’ll help. We’ll find you what you need.”

Relief washed over Gale’s face and he pulled her into a warm, grateful hug. Compared to Astarion’s lean frame, Gale felt much softer, and plush, radiating warmth throughout their embrace. Gale began to mumble against Amaya as he continued to express his gratitude. “This is such a relief, you have my thanks. And fear not - your implicit trust is well placed and will be rewarded with any and all means of my disposal.

Amaya began to giggle at Gale’s endless thanks as she let go of the hug. “Gale, no need to worry, we will find something soon.”

“I knew I could count on you. Alright let's go have some breakfast before it gets cold.”

As they made their way back to the campfire, Amaya could feel Astarion’s gaze burning into her. When their eyes met, he abruptly averted his gaze to his untouched plate of food, absently moving his fork back and forth, tensing his posture. His playful demeanor had completely vanished, replaced by closed off and rigid scowl and a faint tinge of red on his normally pale cheeks. Before Amaya could sit beside him, he abruptly stood, dumped his plate, and stalked off toward his tent.

Amaya watched him go, her heart sinking slightly, then sat by the fire as Shadowheart and Lae’zel launch into an argument over the goblin traps they were set off to fix on today’s agenda.

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs