Chapter Text
Her back has been hurting for hours. It's been a long day—a very long day—but if she is honest, all of her days feel endless lately.
Solveigh holds back a sigh as she peers through the barely open door into the ballroom, where the dancing is in full swing at the moment. It's a minor event, with just a few regular nobles invited for a pleasant evening of gossip and the forging of some opportunities. She has seen so many of those evenings, but tonight, there is a pang of longing in her heart at the sight of the beautiful dresses shimmering when their wearers get twirled around beneath the flickering lights of the chandeliers. It looks so wonderfully carefree, even though she knows well enough that, for many, it is not. Knows that myriad plans and worries are hidden behind those bright and pleasant smiles.
She is a little lost at the sight in front of her when the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her rips Solveigh out of her thoughts. Whirling around, she tries to put a pleasant smile on her face, acting like there is nothing out of the ordinary to be seen. Her gaze is met by a stranger. Definitely a noble. She can tell right away from the elaborate way he dresses, expensive fabrics all in blacks and reds, with a hint of golden embellishments. He is a bit taller than her, white strands of hair curling around sharp-tipped ears. An elf, she realizes. "Can I help you, my lord?" The question comes a little bit too late to be completely polite, but Solveigh manages to sound genuine, at least.
The man in front of her doesn't look unfriendly, but his brows raise as he gives her a once-over. "I was looking for something, but I did not expect to come across servants snooping."
She can't tell if what she hears in his voice is a hint of amusement or if he is chastising her. "I wasn't snooping," Solveigh insists regardless, and this time, he lets out a small laugh.
"No? It looked remarkably like it from where I'm standing."
"I was just sneaking a peak, a harmless glimpse at the dancefloor," Solveigh defends herself. "I work here, it is my job to have an eye on many things." It is a flimsy excuse for being caught staring while letting her mind wander, and though it is obvious that it is not at all working on the stranger, he seems willing to let her get away with it nonetheless.
"Well, since you just snuck a peak, you can tell me if it is safe to get back in there then," he proposes. "When I left earlier, there was some truly atrocious dancing going on by several ladies." His brow furrows, and he gestures down to his perfectly polished shoes. "These are brand new, after all. I had to save myself."
Solveigh almost has to laugh at how melodramatic the elf manages to sound, but even through the complaints, his eyes are still twinkling with humor, and it makes her grin at him as she shrugs. "I am not sure. Let me check!" For a moment, she turns around again, peering through the small space between door and frame, her eyes finding the still dancing couples, and it takes only seconds to see what exactly the stranger means. With a small giggle, Solveigh turns around again. "I assume you meant the two girls in the bright blue and green dresses?" she asks, and when he nods with a pained expression, her smile widens. "I fear they are quite deliberate in what they do. Neither seems to like their current suitor very much. It's a common tactic to scare them off without making a fuss; just act like you have two left feet for a while, and they'll eventually leave."
Her explanation definitely catches his interest. "Is that so? How interesting to know." There is a thoughtful look on his face before he looks her over once more, and unlike the first time, this feels strangely intense and perhaps just a little bit unsettling. Solveigh gets caught up by the unusual color of his eyes. They are bright red, standing out and giving his gaze a strange intensity. "I apologize for my lack of manners," he suddenly says, taking a step closer. Before she can react, the man takes her hand in his. "My name is Astarion, and with whom do I have the honor?" He leads her hand up to his lips but keeps the appropriate distance. Those red eyes hold her captive, and she wonders when exactly her throat has turned this dry.
"Solveigh," she says after a small embarrassed cough. "That's my name, I mean."
"Solveigh," he repeats, and it sounds surprisingly melodic in his voice before he smiles again. "You didn't give me a last name, darling."
A small sliver of fear runs down her back, and before she can think better of it she already replies, "Neither did you!" It is far too familiar and not at all polite enough towards nobility, but before she can even try to apologize and explain herself, Astarion laughs again.
"Touché." He hasn't let go of her, and this time, he closes that last bit of distance, and his lips press briefly against the back of her hand. "Charmed." They feel cool on her slightly flushed skin, and when he draws back, Solveigh awkwardly searches for something useful to say. Absentmindedly, her free hand smoothes out a fold in her slightly ill-fitting dress.
"You said you were looking for something earlier," she remembers with relief, focusing on what she is actually here for as she tries her best to hide how much he rattles her. "Can I help you?"
Something on his face shifts, and he looks almost sinister for a second before his smile is back, and he nods slowly. "Indeed you can," he says, his eyes piercing as he takes a step back, but he doesn't let go of her hand, inevitably pulling her with him. "You see, I was on my way looking for something to drink. I feel quite parched."
Something about the way he talks makes the hairs on Solveigh's neck stand up. His request sounds entirely reasonable, but the low glow in his eyes makes her even more uneasy. "If you tell me what you would prefer, I can get it for you. There are plenty of refreshments in the ballroom." She tries to take her hand back, but the moment she uses more force, his grip turns harder.
"Those refreshments in the ballroom require far too much work," he says pleasantly. "I was thinking of something much more accessible." He takes another step backward into the alcove behind him and pulls her along. By now, Solveigh isn't thinking about politeness anymore as fear trickles down her back and she tries again to rip herself free, but suddenly, there is a hand on her cheek, tilting her head to look into his eyes. They are different than before, glowing brighter, and when Astarion's voice comes again, it's like through a haze. "Shhh, darling, don't fret. A decent servant knows how to stay quiet, don't you?"
A strange sensation overcomes her, and all her will to resist and pull free melts away. It doesn't make sense, and yet it feels like the right thing to do. Hazily, she sways with him when he tugs on her arm. His hand finally lets go of hers, only to slide around her waist instead, pulling her even closer while he tilts her head to the side. "Be a good girl and don't make a sound," comes a whisper against her ear before she feels a piercing sensation in her neck.
All Solveigh can do is gasp quietly as he bites down and, a moment later, starts to drink. A hot flush rushes through her body, a more than pleasant feeling spreading through it right after and if she could she would shake her head at the ridiculous notion that this feels strangely good. Her head gets heavy, and through the haze of her thoughts, far in the back of her mind she knows what is happening. Knows what this man is.
Vampire.
Solveigh has heard of them before, but tales of creatures of the night being able to live off blood always felt more like myths than facts to her. An assumption that has clearly been wrong. For a second, she can hear her mother scolding her for never taking her studies seriously enough, and the thought that at least she will never get to hear her say I told you so makes a laugh bubble up in her. She wonders if she is about to die here, and the idea of it, after all she went through to get here, holds so much irony she laughs a second time.
The pain in her neck stops, and a pleased sigh leaves her when a cold tongue licks over the wounds before he draws back to look at her. Solveigh feels light-headed and a little shaky on her feet. Her mind seems to be wrapped in cotton, but she can see the questioning look in the vampire's eyes all the same. "You are a peculiar little creature," he says with a frown. "A maid in a place like this, and yet you act like..." What it is, he thinks she doesn't get to know as he trails off and shakes his head. "And I have yet to find another soul that finds it amusing when being close to death."
Part of her thinks it is very important to explain to him that it isn't him that made her laugh, but rather the circumstances, but her tongue is heavy, and she can't find the words. All she can do is stare at the hint of red on his lips, knowing that it is her blood. Knowing she should be terrified, but that something he did to her earlier keeps her from feeling the right way about this. Solveigh can't even move on her own. When he gently puts her down on the bench in the alcove, her body is perfectly pliant, and her eyes are almost too heavy to keep open.
"You are rather interesting, darling," he says quietly, drawing a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "It would be a shame to simply drain you dry before I've figured you out, wouldn't you agree?" He doesn't wait for an answer she is too weak to give anyways. Once more, his eyes hold the same strange glow as he leans close. "You won't say a word about this to anyone," he tells her, and Solveigh instinctively knows there is no way she ever could. This time, she manages a weak nod. "Excellent. I will be back for you soon, and until then, you'll just go on as usual. Don't even think about leaving." His eyes seem to burn bright red for a moment before he draws back, and she can see him walk away quietly as her eyes fall shut and her consciousness drifts away, not entirely sure if she should count herself lucky to have survived this encounter.