Chapter Text
It was too damn hot.
You learned against a pillar, the fan in your hand working frantically to bring even a fraction of relief to your overly warm skin.
Really, it would be more practical to move across the ballroom to the open doors that lead out onto the huge balcony that lead out onto the gardens, with the white curtains fluttering flirtatiously in the night breeze. But that was easier said than done with how crowded and stuffy the room is. It seems as though every square inch of the elaborate marble flooring is taken up by rustling taffeta, silk, velvet and all other manner of fabrics in jewel tones, topped with glittering diamonds or lustrous strings of pearls. The fancy dresses some of the ladies were wearing took up so much room, like an overcrowded dock full of pretty boats bobbing on their own waves. The men, too, had gone all out for this ball, and while their sharp suits didn't take up as much space as skirts fluffed up with petticoats, but they were still flamboyant enough that it almost hurt your eyes to try and take in so much at once.
You couldn't help but feel intimidated by being here, like any moment someone would spot something about you - a slip of the tongue, some small breach of etiquette like putting the wrong liquor in the wrong kind of glass, and all heads would snap in your direction, before cries of 'intruder!' would ring out. And then...what? They'd cast you out like a beggar? Form a circle around you to laugh and point? You knew these options conjured up by your fevered imagination were highly unlikely, but not impossible, and the uncertainty spread in the pit of your stomach like a blooming mould.
You hoped your uneasiness wasn't obvious on your face - or if it was, it would simply translate into being uncomfortable in the stifling heat of the ballroom.
You're not surprised that the friends you came with dispersed about the room to catch up with friends who were also in attendance. Your invitation had been extended genuinely, but it was something of a fluke, a last-minute cancellation that was instead extended to you. You tried not to take the others going off to talk to their acquaintances personally, though you did feel awkward and unguarded, standing here alone watching the people dancing.
As you intercepted a passing waiter to grab a glass of wine - not necessarily because you liked the taste, but because it would hopefully be chilled and give you a more obvious reason for why you're not dancing with anyone, you accidentally raised your eyes as you picked it up.
Across the ballroom were three figures, also lounging beside a pillar. They're as finely dressed as everyone else here was, but there was something different about them, something that set them apart from the giddy revellers.
The figure in the middle is the one that drew in your gaze, though. His suit was one of the more ostentatious ones you've seen, pitch black velvet with silver embroidery that seemed to shimmer with even the smallest movement, putting you in mind of the scales of a fish. The silver thread complements his hair, elaborately coiffed silver curls that must have taken quite a bit of time to get so perfect. There's something about his posture too, a subtle grace in his movements, back straight and an aristocratic, almost haughty, tilt to his head.
And then, as you were observing the stranger, watching him gesticulating as he talked, he looked over. At you.
You weren’t close enough to see his eyes properly, especially with the masquerade mask on his face that looks like liquid mercury, but there's no mistaking the prickle on your skin that comes from being watched.
You stiffened, raising your wineglass to your lips in an effort to look casual. Mental images of the man pointing at you, the two beside him turning and laughing flooded your brain, but that isn't what happened.
Instead, he smiled.
It was a slow, sensuous quirk of his lips, like watching honey being drizzled over fresh pastry. It would be sweet – perhaps overly so – but the heat of his stare and the slight unevenness of his smile, one side of his mouth rising higher than the other, adds a roguish, sultry flare that left you unable to look away.
Your fingers tightened around your wineglass, feeling your face growing warmer and it had nothing to do with the room’s overall stuffy humidity. Funny that something as simple as a smile and a look could have such a profound effect on you, especially when people doing so much more – a lustful up-down stare, compliments, resting a hand on your body, often left you indifferent at best or disgusted at worst.
Curiously, by the time you lowered your glass, he was gone. A potent, contradictory feeling of both disappointment and relief flooded through your body at the space where he was just standing. Perhaps it’s for the best – if a handsome stranger was capable of getting you so worked up just from a mere glance, you dread to think how big of a fool you could possibly make of yourself if you actually spoke to him, or even was just in his line of vision for too long.
“Ah, there you are!” a voice said.
You turned to see Lorna, who was the one who had invited you here, approaching you, slightly out of breath. She shot you a rueful little smile, fanning herself ineffectively with her hand.
“I’ve been looking for you, but it is so hard to see anything with all these masks and fancy clothes on display.” she said, apologetically. “Are you all right? You look a little flushed.”
“Oh, it’s just…so unbearably warm in here.” You replied quickly, with a little laugh that was just a bit too fast to be authentic, but fortunately for you, Lorna wasn’t the kind of person to pick up on little nuances like that. “Where are the others?”
“Oh, Demerius is over there, I think he danced with Melody before. Demerius!”
Slowly, you turned.
Lorna’s group had mostly been welcoming when you joined them for tonight – you knew a couple of them already, and for those you didn’t know, you could tell one or two of them who were strangers to you were a little confused by the sudden change, but nobody had outright objected. And there was one of Lorna’s friends who had caught your eye, which was a little ridiculous since he’d barely spoken to you all evening. Lorna told you he was always a little standoffish with strangers, and that had made you hopeful that perhaps he might open up to you as the evening went on. The quality of being unknowable was an attractive one to you, there was a perverse sort of pleasure in trying to peer beneath the surface into whatever lay beneath. You’d always liked that over someone who wore their thoughts and feelings so obviously.
“How was dancing with Melody?” Lorna teased as he approached, brow faintly shiny with perspiration.
“Enthusiastic,” came his response, his eyes cutting between you and Lorna. “She found another rakish young noble to be swept away by when the song changed, so I thought I’d find a replacement.”
He was looking at you, the butterfly mask on his face doing a good job of concealing his emotions, but your insides give a peculiar kind of lurch as the implications of what he’s saying sunk in. You swallowed, wishing you had another glass of wine in your hand for courage.
“I’d love to- “you began.
“Lorna, will you dance with me?” he said at the same time as you.
Oh.
Oh, sh*t.
Lorna’s face flushed, and you knew she’d heard you. You could only cling onto the desperate hope that Demerius’s voice had drowned out yours to his ears, you didn’t think you could stand the embarrassment. Shame tinged you everywhere – your cheeks, your neck, your ears.
“-go. Outside! I think I’ll go outside!” you said loudly, smiling widely as though this would convince anyone that you were just fine, thanks. “You two have fun.”
You thought Lorna said your name, but you ignored her, almost shoving your way through the crowd. Shame had proven to have an unexpected benefit – now you were so driven by your urgent need to get away from Lorna and Demerius that you no longer cared if you knocked into someone or looked ungainly – getting out of here was the only thing that mattered. The other dancers swirling around almost seemed to mock you as you plunged past them, giddy laughter ringing in your ears.
Outside, it was dark and blessedly quiet. You weren’t entirely alone, several people had slipped out to get some reprieve from the activity inside, but nearly all of them were either in groups or couples. You could hear people giggling and whispering to each other in the shadows, the rustling of skirts or soft crunching of gravel as several partygoers wandered about the gardens – apparently there was a large maze near the back and some of the most daring guests wanted to try their hand at navigating it.
You weren’t interested in mazes, and approached the stone wall that wrapped around the balcony, leaning your elbow on it and taking in a couple of deep breaths of night air, the scent of the blossoms carried on the gentle wind helping to calm you down.
They probably won’t even remember that. You reassured yourself. They’ll dance, drink and forget all about it.
But that didn’t do much to make you feel less stupid, or less like you’re an outsider. You didn’t really belong there and for a second, you’d let yourself forget that, and the universe quickly corrected that mistake. You’re almost tempted to slip away right here and now, to get away from this gaudy place of masks and other such illusions, but you swallowed down the urge. Instead, you expelled a loud sigh and leaned forwards, listening to the sloshing of the fountain below you.
Vaguely, you couldn’t help wondering what dancing with the handsome stranger in the silver mask would be like, but dismiss that thought before it can take root. It would probably be utterly nerve-wracking – his posture alone made you think he was probably a decent dancer, and you barely knew the steps. You’d be more likely to step on his foot and offend him irreparably than dazzle him with any witty banter. Coming up with any while being whirled around would be a challenge, for one thing.
…But the thought of him putting a hand on your waist made your heart pick up the pace like a pony going from a walk to a trot.
Get a grip on yourself. You scolded yourself, folding your fan away. You’re acting like a teenager.
“My, and here I thought all that glamour inside was impressive. It seems there is more beauty to behold out here.”
You nearly plummeted headfirst off the balcony in your shock, turning around at the sound of a smooth, amused voice.
It’s him. The stranger from before. Though he was backlit by the ballroom behind him, it’s not so dark that you couldn’t make out his face. He wasn’t handsome – he was gorgeous. Up close you could see that his skin looked smooth and flawless as marble, and behind that mask his eyes were a pretty shade of red, like a garnet.
You tried hard not to gawk at him like a slack jawed idiot, even though seeing him so close was even more intimidating then having him smirking at you from across the dancefloor.
“Oh, I just…wanted to get away from it all for a minute.” You said, inwardly congratulating yourself for managing to sound fairly casual. “I’m assuming it’s the same for you?”
“Oh, yes. It is wonderful to be admired by so many others, of course, but even I need a little reprieve from it now and then.” The man confirmed in his posh tones, though there was a subtly teasing, sarcastic edge to his voice that prevented him from sounding like those humourless prigs you sometimes got in high society. He strolled over and leaned against the wall in a pose that looked a little too polished to be natural. “And who might you be, darling?”
Your mouth twitched at being called ‘darling’ in that tone, and you told him your name. He hummed and repeated it like he was savouring it in his mouth like a fancy chocolate.
“I am Astarion,” he said, tilting his head. “A pleasure.”
Was it your imagination, or did he put an unnecessary amount of emphasis on that word?
You nodded and it was odd but you felt almost like you were drunk, trying hard to focus on the words he was saying and smile and nod in all the correct places instead of letting your imagination run away with you, but your errant thoughts that didn’t want to be tightly contained kept thinking that the moonlight made him look even better than he did indoors.
“I couldn’t help but overhear that little…exchange in there.” Astarion said abruptly, and you hated how easily your embarrassment came flooding back to you.
“Oh, that.” You said, as if you hadn’t been agonising over it since it happened. “Just got our wires crossed, that’s all- “
“It truly is shocking to know there can be people who are so stupid and uncouth.” Astarion said, steamrolling over your breezy attempt to downplay the moment.
“Wh- you think so?” you said, hoping he meant Demerius and not you.
“Oh, yes.” Astarion answered, turning to you with a sly smile on his face. “Were I to offer to dance with a lady, I would not do so by insulting her friend in the same breath. Especially not one as lovely as you.”
“You’re laying on the flattery a little thick there, aren’t you?” you snickered, pretending like you weren’t loving it.
Astarion knew – he always knew when his honeyed words were getting to someone, and the smile you were trying to hide, tugging at the corners of your lips, only encouraged him to keep going. He lowered his voice to a sultry purr.
“Indeed, my dear. For instance, I would take her hand like this…”
His hand fastened around your wrist, and he pulled you to him, his other hand settled on your waist like it was why you had one in the first place. A soft gasp left your mouth as you were suddenly pressed flush against him, though his grip wasn’t tight or painful and you could wriggle away if you so chose.
You did not.
“Please tell me you’re not going to start up a waltz.” You said, jokingly, your heart now thumping so loudly you felt like he’d hear it. “I’m a terrible dancer.”
“Oh, you can’t be worse than some people I’ve had the misfortune to encounter in a ballroom.” Astarion replied, with a laugh that you couldn’t help but find charming, it invited you to laugh as well. “But this is much more pleasant than sweating alongside some drunken patriar who doesn’t know his ass from his elbow.”
He wasn’t wrong – it’s more private, and cooler. His hands were pleasingly cool to the touch, and you’re struck with a powerful urge to put your palm on his cheek to see if it applies to everywhere on him. Astarion’s eyes swept over your body as he held you to him. He’d seen you across the room – you looked so adorably alone, like a fawn abandoned by its mother. A pretty, tempting thing for a natural-born hunter such as himself to follow, to track down…
But holding you here like this, he found himself rather enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment. Oh, it’s one thing to swoon people in a bawdy, crowded engagement while they’ve drunk far too much champagne, perhaps engage in some naughty fun behind a pillar or in an adjacent room, the thrill of getting caught a delicious accompaniment to physical delights…but this is a different kind of fun.
His hand left your hand and instead floated up, a finger tilting up your chin. Your eyes were huge and dark behind your simple, but stylish, mask, and he smiled.
“Of course,” he said, in a soft, lilting voice that required you to lean in some more to hear better. Oh grandma, what big teeth you have… “There are other things to do besides dance…”
And he kissed you.
Except, like Astarion’s smile, calling it a simple “kiss” didn’t do it justice.
His mouth was smooth against your own, and the moment his mouth even slightly made contact with yours, a surge of tingles erupted at the point of contact. Your lips were easy to part, so shocked were you by the suddenness of what was going on. Astarion was masterful at getting access to your mouth and the thought of refusing didn’t once across your mind. Instead, you sank into it, a blissful sigh muffled against his lips. He chuckled fondly, the hand on your waist tugging in closer, and the rest of the world, the revellers around you clustered on the balcony or wandering down into the gardens and maze beyond, vanished from your awareness. Your waist felt hot where his hand was touching it, like a brand, and when his tongue slipped into your mouth it sent a shiver skittering over your body.
He bit your lip, gently, not hard enough to draw blood, it was just a little jolt that made the sweetness of the kiss all the better. His free hand slid over your body with an intent that could only be called lascivious, squeezing your body as if he was testing its firmness. Heat engulfed you, a very different beast from the mugginess you’d been suffering from before. When his hand slid over your breasts, held by the corset of your dress as they were, you didn’t protest.
“Darling…” he purred as he broke away to let you breathe, and you gulped in a lungful of evening air like someone thirsty will gulp down water.
You murmured something unintelligible – it was probably his name – and Astarion decided to up the ante. His hands latched around your waist and in one smooth, practiced movement, you were suddenly sitting on the stone wall. The stone was much colder than everything else and the chill bit into the undersides of your thighs through your dress, but you barely noticed. Not with Astarion insinuating himself between your thighs to keep kissing you, enjoying this newfound angle. He didn’t leave it at just your mouth, either – he nipped a line of playful little bites down your neck, on your collarbone, sending small fissions of pleasure with each one, like the aftershocks of an earthquake. Propriety flying out of the window, you responded by wrapping your legs around his trim hips, kissing him back with fervour until your lips started to feel numb, wrapping your arms around him and carding your fingers through his gleaming silvery hair.
You couldn’t even blame it on the wine – you’d only drunk two glasses of it since you got here. No, this was lust. Lust and the exhilaration of being seen. Of something you’d never have presumed for yourself being practically handed to you, and you seizing it with both hands. Literally, in fact.
It was hard to say how things might have gone. If Astarion had taken your hand and led you into a dark corner, you had no doubt you would have followed. He would have taken a lot more, and you weren’t sure if you could or would have refused. Not when you felt so good, not when he took notice of you when it seemed like nobody else bothered.
But then, when he had his lips pressed to your neck, Astarion paused, like he was listening to something. You thought maybe he heard a clock chiming and wondered what time it was now, and he suddenly stopped what he was doing, almost freezing like a deer hearing the snap of a branch.
Slowly, gently almost, he pulled back, away from you. Some of your lipstick was smudged across his mouth, though in a way that somehow looked Avant Garde instead of messy, and he ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back into place.
“Astarion?” you asked, slightly confused, quickly closing your legs and sitting up straight.
He stared at you for a moment, and you couldn’t read his expression. It wasn’t the sultry come-hither smile he’d been giving you across the room, nor was it the playful half-smirk he wore when he was joking. It wasn’t angry or disappointed, either, which was something. If you had to name it, it was more contemplative.
“You are sweet,” he eventually said, but far from that being a seductive or patronising statement, there was something in his voice that was almost…rueful.
“I…did I do something wrong?” you asked, feeling silly and slightly helpless, like you’ve failed at grabbing a rope you were meant to use to climb out of a pit.
“No, dear, you haven’t done anything,” Astarion said, and his tone was assuring enough that it eased some of the sting out of the sudden withdrawal. He reached out and gently ran his fingers through your hair, a thoughtful expression on his face. “But duty calls, I’m afraid. I must go.”
You nodded, not wanting to seem childish or desperate in your desire for him to stay. You opted not to ask what possible ‘duty’ he could have at a masquerade ball, either. You decided it was none of your business and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeming too curious. And Lorna was probably wondering where you were by now, no doubt she felt equally as embarrassed as you at Demerius and his faux pas.
“Alright,” you said, giving a quick lick of your lips, still feeling a tingling sensation from where his mouth had been.
“But rest assured,” Astarion hummed, drawing so close to you that you were barely inches apart. “Our paths will no doubt cross again, darling. Until then…”
He pressed a swift kiss to your knuckles, and you’d normally hate that, you’d find it cheesy and horribly presumptuous, but when Astarion does it, it’s somehow charming and made your stupid heart (and other places) clench in response.
With a last smirk, he left, disappearing back into the ballroom and being swallowed up by the light and drunken laughter. It felt like a mirage, like you came out here, passed out, and imagined the whole encounter.
…But your lips are still kiss-swollen and bitten, and your lipstick was smudged too, you could tell it was without needing a mirror to confirm it. You definitely didn’t do that to yourself, and you hugged the knowledge of it to your chest like a comforting pillow.
A figure appeared on the balcony, and you relaxed. Lorna.
“Oh, there you are! I was worried you’d gone!” Lorna said, making her way over to you. Her skin is shiny with sweat and her hair is starting to fall out of its elegant style. It seemed that Demetrius might not have been as graceful as he might have looked at first glance. “Why are you sitting out here alone?”
“I wasn’t alone. I was just talking with someone, actually.” You replied, slightly defensively. “But he had to leave.”
Lorna examined your face and a sly smile crept across it. You touched at your mouth self-consciously and pink came off at your fingertips.
“It looks like you had plenty to say,” Lorna said in a teasing voice, her eyes alighting on the love bites that now littered your neck.
“Shut up…” you said without heat, a smirk pulling at your lips.
“Come on – I think I’ve had enough dancing for one evening, and there’s a terrible argument going on inside.” Lorna said, holding her hand out for to you take. “What say we get something to eat, and you can tell me all about your mystery man? Do you think you’ll see him again?”
You accepted her hand and jumped down from the wall. You glanced up at the bright, full moon above you and thought of Astarion’s words, his voice teasing – promising? – he’d see you again. Your hand ghosted across the necklace you wore, the pendant hanging just over your loudly beating heart.
“I hope so.”
