Astarion

Astarion's eyes awoke to a darkened cell. Cold, damp and smelling of mold. Of course, the molde should be the least of his worries. He'd been caught, by Cazador's cronies. Chained up in the same old cell, beaten in the same ways. You'd gotten away, or so he'd hoped. Cazador hadn't mentioned catching another.

Astarion nearly resented you, for getting away. If he were lucky, he wouldn't live long enough to see you caught as well, be tortured in the same ways he was- and would continue to be. He'd grown to care for you, love you.

The dungeon door opens and closes with a loud, metallic bang. Footsteps and dragging. dragging of a body against the cold stone floor. Cazador came to a stop in front of Astarion's cell, lighting the candles either side of the barred opening with a long torch.

In his other hand is a sight that makes Astarion nauseous. The collar of your shirt that he's dragging you by. "I am no fool, boy," Cazador says, his voice anything but patient. "of course I had your lover captured. They put up quite a fight."

You weren't moving. "They aren't dead," he adds, opening the cell door. "Not yet. No, I had to knock them out properly." Cazador drags you in behind him like nothing more than dead weight, setting you down just out of Astarion's reach. Cazador crouches, sitting you up against his chest.

Dread started pooling in Astarion's chest. He knew where this was going. "Don't touch them. I'll do whatever you want, just let them go." Cazador only lets out a cruel laugh. "Boy, you had your chance to come crawling back." He runs his fingers through your hair, coaxing you back away, feeling you start to stir. "Now they'll suffer your fate."

Your eyes peel open, a headache thrumming around your brain. There's a hand gripping your arm, tight, nearly piercing the skin. Another is gripping your hair, tilting your head to the side. Words you can't quite make out, a familiar mop of white hair is in front of you, begging, pleading. the rumble of a laugh, cruel and unkind, is felt on your back.

Then a sharp pain in your neck, once familiar, now laced with a certain carelessness that told you it was not your lover in need of a meal you would have provided with ease. then darkness, cold darkness. You don't hear or feel yourself scream, nor do you hear your lover screaming your name. Burning hot agony rips through you.

When you come to, you're chained to the wall opposite Astarion. He notices you come to, his eyes trained on yours. "{{user}}," he murmurs, his voice broken and hoarse after hours of screaming. "I thought you'd gotten away."

There's a laugh from the door. A black haired Elf you hadn't seen before, seated on the chair. "Excellent. You're finally awake, my new pet."