BloodSong - Katzy_Kins - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter Text

Hania was the first person he'd ever met who didn't seem to care what they could get out of his companionship. They were happy to discuss nothing of import with anyone of their party members without thought for personal gain...it was becoming harder and harder to keep up with his original plan, but he felt he was cornered. Astarion had been betrayed so many times...he couldn't chance it, no matter how kind someone seemed, they were always willing to sell him out in the end.

He had to make sure it didn't happen this time...or he'd be a mindflayer...another painful transformation into some even more terrifying shape than a vampire spawn...Gods the thought scared him near to stone.

The day they'd returned victorious from the Grove, he would make his first attempt.
It bore fruit, of course it did. Somewhere in the middle however, he wasn't able to hide that far away look in his eyes...And it would seem Hania'd noticed...ever so preceptive as they are...Damn it.

"Are you alright?" They interrupted the passion betwixt, just to check on him? Unheard of, but he had to convince himself that this was some kind of rouse. He found it difficult to believe anyone could do this with genuine intention--certainly not for him. Maybe his empty gaze was just impeding on Hania's own pleasure, so they were asking about it to politely make him aware enough to cease. Yes, that had to be it. The next morning, Hania would press the issue again...how could they tell he wondered...

He brushed it off with a line about "not wanting to go too far" and in truth they didn't know each other well enough for them to discern that he wasn't being honest...though he believed they'd suspect as much.

Sex became something instinctual for him now, an act for survival...and it disgusted him. He could go through all the motions perfectly; arousal, climax--the honeyed words that could gain him access to anyone's body. After almost 200 years, it was second nature to him--like employment, but what is a job you're not allowed to quit? Slavery. Be it Cazador, parasite or trauma; the chain was still so tight around his neck, and the leash would change hands on constant.

His consent mattered not, he'd just be compelled if he refused...somehow it was more devastating when he fought back. At least acting like he enjoyed this gave him back some illusion of control--he could lie to himself, even if he couldn't make himself believe the lies. Fighting it would hurt the most somehow, it would be accepting how wrong everything is, and how powerless he was to fix any of it...He could very easily begin to spiral if he did not give way to voluntary delusion instead.

He didn't want to think about how 'nice' this particular lie felt too. When they'd touched his face during, Astarion could almost believe there was love behind their eyes. He was almost sold on the unfamiliar warmth in their palm where they'd caressed him. But that was idealistic and he wasn't so naive these days...

He had to stay focused, this was life and death. He had to make sure Hania would never turn their back on him--the only way he knew how. The only way that ever got him what he wanted...what he needed.

But it wasn't so simple as just...not loving them back...Hania would do these things---they'd just be--so unrelentingly kind...They had offered their neck to him so willfully...trusting him--gods, they were foolish and they didn't even seem to care, or realize it...but he'd only said that to himself so he could stave off the guilt...This...This was such atruly bitter deception for someone who'd been so kind to him...But if he contemplated the feeling too much longer, he may never forgive himself...He would force himself back into that comfortable place of denial.

He'd returned from a hunt one night to find a bedroll placed neatly in his tent...How did they even notice...? Astarion's tent contained a hard plank 'bed' with the few personal effects he had. A tattered old blanket and a dingy pillow...very little in the way of comfort. But...they hadn't thrown any of it away, they merely folded it neatly at the foot of the new bedroll...knowing Hania, they'd probably deduced that these old things may possess some sentimental value and they didn't want to chance discarding of something precious...They never brought it up, no 'how do you like the new bed?' or 'Have you been sleeping better?' They didn't want to put the undue pressure of gratitude on him. He needn't thank them, they didn't do him the kindness for all that.

They knew enough of him to know that he kept those sincere emotions covered up by a thin veil of humor, and they didn't want him to feel indebted for something he'd never asked for, but the hardest part was knowing what they'd sacrificed to give him this bedroll...They had slept in the dirt that night until they could replace it--they'd rather give him a good night's rest and go without...What was Hania? Some cosmic bandaid to heal his wounded soul? How disgustingly sacchrine! It was almost comical the irony in that romantic idealism, of which he'd abandoned several lifetimes ago--and yet...Hania never asked for anything from him...they handled him as if they were befriending a feral cat...just giving and giving until they could earn his trust...usually Astarion could pick right up on any ulterior motives, but in Hania, behind those moss-colored, doe eyes--he found none. No ill intent, no gut feeling of an impending betrayal...no matter how desperately he wanted to find one--He could see no reason to distrust them.

And they were always so obnoxiously helpful! To just anyone! Never asking for follow-ups or details before risking their life--and his--for these unknown people. It drove him mad! He would make his feelings known every time he'd caught them agreeing to some other inane errand for some other damned nobody! He tried to pretend that it was solely out of selfishness on his part but deep down...he recalls the numerous occasions in which he'd duped multiple bleeding hearts just like Hania with the same sob stories...All for some kind of gain, and to make him watch as a dear...acquaintances' kindness is brutalized with his own tactics would be strangely upsetting...? He hadn't wanted to think too deeply on the why's of it...

The first night he'd heard them sing, it nearly killed his resolve... Their voice lilting as they effortlessly blessed each word that spilled from their lips. The sound was enchanting. He could hear the deep, dulcet tones of their voice in his dreams, lulling him to a calm he hadn't felt in so long...He'd never known a sound so honest. It was sorrowful, and raw...He could hear every heartbreak they'd ever suffered. It dripped--wet with their tears, and rang heavy with a sob.

"Astarion?" They greeted him, as they tuned their Lyre. He sat beside them turning on the charm--that persona he'd wear to avoid all sincerity, but it was hard with Hania...they were so upfront about everything, they wore their heart on their sleeve and hid only what was necessary to protect the party's condition, and even that appeared to be difficult for them. "I found these while 'lute-ing', get it?" there's a pause and he makes a face that confirms the pun actually did it's job and sickened him deeply. They laugh, "Alright, alright. Here." They put the item in his lap and he idetifies it quickly. "Red and gold are your best colors, wouldn't you agree?"

Gods...another gift? It was a finely tailored suit, something worn by nobility...something he'd have worn back when he was still a magistrate...He looks at it, realizing he hasn't said anything yet. "Thank you..." He says quietly. Hania looks concerned, so he elaborates, offering a small bit of sincerity to show something of his gratitude.
"I apologize, I'm...not quite used to all this. It's been...quite some time since anyone had been so...thoughtful. I...don't quite know how else to respond I'm afraid." His voice was meeker than he'd meant it to be, showcasing more than intended...

But Hania just smiles warmly, clearly just as charmed by this side to him as any other he's shown, "Well that's alright, I just thought you'd look nice in this and that you deserve nice things...they suit you. Sorry--I wish I could have done better than--well, theft. But--"
The absolute last thing he wanted was to make them feel like apologizing when they'd done him a kindness, he puts a finger to their lips and hushes them, this time finding the perfect balance of sincerity and his usual charm. "Please. It's a wonderful gift. And darling...the theft is the best part. It's not often the bard steals without getting caught." He smirks,
"I had to use an invisibility potion...or three, and I left a full graveyard's worth of broken lockpicks in my wake...but I got it." They say with a laugh. He had next to nothing of his own and most of his clothes were worn to near threads, so this was...nice. Too nice, the way they'd confound his instincts to mistrust people--Hania wasn't like that...They weren't like anyone he'd ever met in nearly two centuries.

After more time, Hania had learned enough of Astarion's mannerisms to read him better by their second romp. This time he had approached them in a cave where the party was camping.
He had tried to convince himself that he wasn't looking for intimacy, he just...needed to get them hooked. It's to solidify their affection for him--yes. That's it. Its not as if getting Hania to care for someone was the easiest, most low-effort thing anyone could do. It's not that they cared for others consistently with little provocation all the time or anything...
Astarion initiated as he'd always done with bambi-hearted creatures like Hania; a kiss. They melted against his lips, but when they pulled back they recognized that same distant look in his eyes.
"Astarion?" they whispered, a hand pressed gently to his cheek. "What's the matter? Would you like to stop? We don't have to do this..." They didn't seem disappointed about ending the encounter--only concerned that Astarion may be pushing himself into physical touch he doesn't really want.
...No, this was new for him, in nearly 200 years, no one's ever...stopped him, nor noticed his discomfort--and if they did, they continued anyway...He had been taught that once you start this, you can't just 'stop.' But...why was their hand so soft? Their eyes so sad...They'd almost had him convinced...

...Almost.

"No need to fret, darling. I'm perfectly fine. Now...where were we--" Hania presses a finger to his lips. Astarion had been so prominent in their life in the last serveral tendays that they could tell when he was putting on a front. That 'rake's pitch' in his voice gave him away.
"Astarion, I know that look. You've got the disinterested stare of a dead fish. Please. Be honest. You look so haunted...This isn't the kind of thing I'd feel comfortable doing if it wasn't something we both wanted. And it's okay if you want to stop, I promise." Gods no...They weren't supposed to make him feel like this...understood? Cared for? This will ruin his plan--but...maybe he doesn't need that plan...Would the kind of compassion that begs him for honesty on all fronts ever cast him out?
"Hania, really, I'm f--" They press his lips again, "Fine doesn't look like this. How about we just split the bedroll tonight? Unless you don't wish to be touched at all? Again, I will absolutely underst--" His face softens, and he puts a finger to their lips, "That...That would be nice, actually..." He looks away, slightly embarrassed by how vulnerable all this is...Take off his clothes? He feels great, and totally in control. Hug him? Show him you care? And he'll actuallyfeel naked.
Hania smiles."Thank you--Oh sh*t...Then the first time we--Oh Gods Astarion," their hand on his arm--a touch so soft he hardly felt it. They look at him with their green eyes pained, and guilty...
"I'm so sorry I didn't notice--But I promise I'll be better. I can read your face a bit more effectively now. So when you're hesitant, I can stop us so you don't do anything you don't want to. Okay? I'm so, so sorry!" No one had ever said that before, 'I'll be better.' if he hadn't killed off his emotions centuries ago--he could've cried.
"it's...alright, Hania..." He gently takes their wrist. It was becoming so difficult to convince himself that this person would ever turn their back on him willingly. "I took advantage of how little you knew of me, it's my fau--" They stop him,
"Don't even finish that sentence! Because it's absolutely untrue. You told me enough about your sire to get an idea of where this...'habit'...came from. Though it's fair to say I made a huge error in judgment and if you wanted this to be over--I'd understand..." They look away, crushed at the thought, but he grabs their hand, almost too quickly,
"No!--erm...no...that won't be necessary. Let's just call it a mistake, I...trust you'll do better. And I shall....endeavor to be more honest with you in the future as well." He speaks slowly, words feeling foreign in his mouth...He turns to look them in the eyes. He can't let his plan fall apart, even if he wasn't sure he still needed it.
"If you're certain you can forgive me, then...I'm very glad. I'll try to be worthy of that mercy." Their smile is so...genuine, it could make him ill--but it...doesn't. He feels more warmed by them by the second...
The two slip into one bedroll together, pressed tight to each other, chest to chest. "Now please be honest if you'd like to sleep alone at any point. I just want you to feel comfortable okay?" They look up at him...more smiling...
"I will, love. Now. Sleep." His arms coils around their petite frame. Neither of them have ever slept so well. Lulled to peace by their mixing scents of citrus and pine.

***
He could feel their hand toying with his hair. "Morning." they croon softly, "Is this okay?" They ask, and he nods, he's experienced so little of non-sexual affection that the more Hania gave, the more he wanted. "I'm glad." They hummed.
Astarion would attempt more propositions, but his eyes would either go dead or he'd openly request to stop every time. The two put their clothes on, and Astarion looked so defeated.
Hania, half dressed, still comforts him, "We'll keep trying. It's a process undoing nearly 200 years of--all you've endured. Please don't be so hard on yourself. We'll get us there---if you wish to keep trying." They gently squeeze his shoulder. Even now, their only concern was him...They'd had no idea what he was scheming and how he'd deceived them...he tried to fake a smile, but it was difficult to lie to them any more than he'd already had...
He looked at them and it felt like the first time he'd really seen them. Astarion had initially brushed them off as "just pretty" but...Hania looked stunning to him now....In their night clothes...A light pink satin bralette adorned their modest bust. It was cropped so it would sit well under their clothes. Their matching satin skirt...perfectly cinched at their tiny waist...their long dark brown hair messy from the attempted romp, and those eyes that matched the grassland backdrop so perfectly...It was easier to smile at them now...He drew nearer, a little more comfortable with physical contact than he was before--he kisses their forehead grateful that they'd been so patient with him.
"Good to know one of us has faith in me." He jests weakly.
"I know faith isn't really your strong suit. So I'll carry this one." Hania smiles holding his hand.

Then they'd met Araj, the way she'd smelled was--foul. Her blood stunk of gunpowder, he could smell it even as it still coursed inside of her. Hania noticed his discomfort immediately. "Astarion, are you alright?" their brows knitting together, sweet little face riddled with worry.
He was not. When Araj talked down about him to Hania--calling him 'theirs' as though he were a throw pillow or some possession...Hania was visibly getting angrier, glancing over at him with a look that asked 'do you want me to tear into this bitch like a rabid kobold? Cuz I will.' He couldn't help but smile somewhat.
Hania told Araj to basically shut her mouth and that Astarion could speak for himself. "No." he'd told her, and Hania smiled at the blood trader smugly. "hmm, must've been the weird property comments you were making." He thought of how little he ever wanted to see them angry...ever. Hania was jovial, funny and sweet--to strip that away would be...jarrinig to say the least...
This was bad...his plan was falling apart and he was...letting it. It was quickly becoming harder and harder to ignore the impact they'd made on him...He had taken them for a clown--a good natured, court jester. Easy prey, but the only one so entranced here now was him.

He could deny it no longer.
He had f*cked up so royally and for the first time in so long...
He was falling in love...

....sh*t.