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You were used. Of course you were. If all your other companions had some sort of difficult or twisted past, why would you be any different?
But it wasn’t that you had one as well that bothered you. What had your stomach in knots and your heart twisting apart was the fact that it had been happening your whole life…and you hadn’t ever once noticed.
That you weren’t just your mother’s daughter; no, far from it. You were your mother’s tool. A weapon for her to wield, to manipulate and coerce others to do what she needed them to do.
Not only did you never have a say in the matter…you didn't even realize it. Not until your memories were forcefully returned by the tadpole and broke whatever insidious curse that kept the truth at bay.
They didn’t come all at once; they started as nightmares, over the course of months. The kind that became more frequent, more vivid.
And then the realization struck; they weren’t nightmares at all. They were memories. Shadowheart helped you come to this realization when you explained what you were suffering through each night.
Astarion had been awre of these dreams that tormented you; sharing a tent did make that easy. But you had insisted he not worry; it was your problem to resolve, and he had enough he had to deal with.
But that didn’t stop him from keeping a close eye on you. So when you strode from Shadowheart’s tent that night and made a beeline for your own, he could tell quite clearly something was wrong.
His gaze flicked to Shadowheart, who had lingered at the entrance and watched as you steppped away. She was worried; that much was obvious.
Astarion pursed his lips, but knew there was little time to wait. With a lift of his chin and a fluff of his tunic, he made his way over to the tent you had disappeared into.
Of course, he could hear the sobs before he’d even reached you. The sound was muffled, pressed into the palm of your hand.
It did make his heart twist. You had done so little to deserve such distress (well, in his unbiased opinion).
His initial thought was to dismiss any heartfelt attempt at comfort, say something lighthearted and teasing to break the heaviness that suffocated the tent.
He thought better of it, and instead reached out to take hold of your hand, gingerly forcing your attention away from the bedroll you had all but pressed yourself tightly into.
You turned your head some, offering a little acknowledgement to the vampire.
But there was little else you could do; not without a whole new waterfall of tears gushing forth.
“What did they say?” He asked gentlyin a soft voice; gentle enough that it might coax you from the whimpering.
You shook your head, averting your gaze back to the dirt in front of you.
“It was all real. The nightmares…t-they were memories. All of it. .I was…I was a tool. A pawn, used by my own…” You choked back a sob, and he could hear your teeth grind as your jaw clenched tightly. My own mother.”
Astarion nodded quietly; he had suspected as much, given the vividness and the sheer amount of detail you were able to recall with each instance.
You bit your lip, squeezing his hand tightly.
“I don’t know what to think…the things I did for her, Astarion, what I thought was right, what would help her….the people I hurt, that I-!’
“I’m quite familiar with it, darling.” Astarion’s tone remained gentle, if only with a hint of a teasing lilt. “If it’s any comfort, at least you didn’t know the things you were doing were inherently wrong.”
You whipped your glare back to him, pulling your hand from his. “That doesn’t make it any better. That makes it worse. I couldn’t even atone for my sins because I thought it was the right thing to do. That I was doing it for her- Gods, I can’t believe…”
There was a deep, unending understanding in his heart. There were few who could understand what you were going through.
“I…I am sorry, my love. I know exactly what you’re going through. To have come from your own mother is unfathomably awful. It is something no one deserves…least of all, you.”
You nodded, pushing the tears away as you worked to sit yourself upright. Your expression was bordering on embarrassed; sheepish. Like you were ashamed to be telling him any of this.
“Thank you, Asta, really. But…but I don’t think it’s anything like what you had to go through. I wouldn’t dare compare the two things.”
“You didn’t. I did. You weren’t given a say in your actions; certainly, you may not have been tormented and brutalized in a whole host of different ways, but-”
“My point exactly,” You frowned, this time moving to take his hand in your own. Your body was hot with sorrow; with anger. “You don’t need to try and-”
“I’m not doing anything other than giving you the same compassion you've shown me. You needn't belittle your experiences simply because it doesn't compare to my own.”
“I-I’m not trying to comp- I just- I’m sorry. I’m a mess.” You shook your head, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I don’t want to be this. I hate that this is what I am. I hate that she made me this way, and I didn’t even know it. And I don’t want to t-talk about it either, because I’m hardly t-the only one with issues like this!”
“But you still need time to process it, as we all did. And you will not be alone in this. Quite the contrary; I’m certain there’s a number of people that are willing to be there for you, aside from myself.”
“That’s…that’s true.” You sniffed, taking in a long, shaking breath in a feeble attempt to calm down. “I’m sorry. You're right, I’m just…I’m not in a good headspace. I do need some t-time to process it.”
“Couldn’t agree more, darling.” Astarion smiled softly, “Would you prefer to be on your own? I’ll gladly fuck off, if you demand it.”
“No.” You shook your head, holding out a trembling hand. “I want you to stay.”
Cool fingertips skated over your palm, and laced with your own as he drew you gently into his chest. Deceptively broad, and reliably strong, you melted into him, unwinding your hands so that you could properly wrap your arms around him and fall into a much needed embrace.
Astarion laid you both down gingerly, prizing your comfort as the floodgatesopened once more.
You don’t know how long you cried, and at certain points, you weren’t entirely sure what your breaths were hitching for.
But when the storm passed, and you finally cried yourself asleep, Astarion was there.
Unwavering in his loyalty, reluctant to let you go for even a moment, his thoughts were filled only with you.
Well, you and a variety of schemes to take revenge on your mother, but you nonetheless.
You were there in the darkest of times, and knew you would remain at his side when he finally found the strength to face his greatest fears.
There could be no doubt that he would do the very same for you. He would never allow such a concern to ever cross your mind.