Drifting into endless sleep and days of emotional turmoil, the young elf's body whisked through the thunder clad skies to her death. Azaela tamed her rapid heart as she prepared to meet her end, the Mindflyer ship burning in the shadows of the darkened atmosphere.
There were no memories that crawled through her mind as she battled the beasts inside the helm, the monsters that placed the tadpole in her eye, fighting against devils alike, to allow her to steer the burning ship away from the crimson dragon that scalded her skin.
A ravenous hunger for blood and violence shook her to the core, threatening to unravel all that she was.
All that she is.
However, as she took her final breath, the tunnel of darkness never came.
No.
Instead, she found her feet upon the ground, the wind blowing through her raven tresses that cascaded down her back in glistening waves, and her chocolate irises taking in the wreckage before her.
The rays of the sun traced her twany flesh, a crowd of freckles drawing across her nose and cheeks, creating a constellation of imperfections. A small little thing, with a graceful waist that tucked in perfectly in combination to her wide hips, Azaela was a beautiful beast, deadly and powerful. As if crafted by the gods themselves, the elf embodied the form of a shadow walking amongst the heavens, stalking and preying upon innocent lives as the leeching hunger urged her to sink a dagger into Shadowheart's chest.
The Cleric laid upon the sand, her chestnut braid falling over her face as she peacefully slept, unknown that a monster hovered above her.
None of her companions knew how deep her murderous tendencies ran, not even her lover Gale, who had swept in and graced her with the love she never thought she'd ever experience.
And even after the defeat of the Elder Brain, and the salvation of Baldur's Gate, Azaela never truly felt understood. All her friends remained by her side for a time, even those who did not stand by her actions and decisions - but even their friendships could not tether the chains that bound her to the dark desires that fed upon the calamity she caused.
One by one, they all eventually left, leaving the Elf to sink into a pit of despair as Gale kissed her goodbye, shattering her heart into a thousand pieces.
All except one.
One man, who had burned a heat so intense, that it rushed through her veins like lava spilling over the edges of a volcano's bed rock.
One man, so pale, that his porcelain flesh glistened underneath the moonlight as he stood upon the towers of the castle he stole from his master.
One man, who had ringlets of snow drawing upon the shallow colours of vermillion, feathers of white lashes creating a cocoon of deep conundrum.
One man, who had held a blade to the softness of her neck when he tricked her upon their first meeting.
One man, who raised the fires of hell to ascend into the realm of pure melancholy.
One man, who made her heart sing in rage, and lust all the same.
That man, was no other, than Astarion Ancunín.
Author's Note
This will be an enemies to lovers trope and will follow the events after the story of the game. The prologue will tell the tale loosely, but it will flesh out to a different plot. It will be 18+ and feature a lot of mature content.
Warnings and triggers
1. Mature themes such as sex.
2. Extreme violence and bloodshed.
3. Substance Abuse.
4. Traumas and PTSD.
5. Themes of bullying and harassment.
Overall, I hope you enjoy!
BINABASA MO ANG
Bloodlust (Astarion x DarkUrge)
Fanfiction"You will never understand what it feels like to be enslaved, to be used like a toy only to later be discarded." The pale elf's lips strained against the harsh words that flowed from his plump lips. "Then help me understand Astarion!" Her voice cra...
