Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You’re not one for being a talker. That comes in handy when you’re running away. You’re also not the smartest person, but you’re aware of the stupidity in your decisions. You’re desperate. Sneaking through the underdark so no one in the grove could track your movements was dumb. A better plan could’ve been forged. But you want to get to Baldur’s Gate without anyone knowing. Your former keeper, Halsin, was known to have ended up at Baldur's Gate. Why have you made this stupid dumb journey? You’re sick. The healers in the grove have tried many remedies, but none of them have worked well. They alleviate some of the symptoms, but not all of them. Your life is still diminished. Most days you can’t even get out of your bed. Your magic is weakened, spells are half assed.

(Where’d my mojo go, poutyface)
In your journey you snuck between mushrooms and brush. Sleeping when most people were traveling. Tucked between hiding spots where only bugs and frogs seemed to end up. Oddly enough, you overheard another group traveling. You made sure to be as quiet as death itself. Only the unsavory types seemed to travel this late. Granted, you didn’t think yourself the unsavory type. So maybe judgment shouldn’t be passed. Regardless, you trailed behind them for awhile. You listened to their bits of conversation to try to get any useful information. Seeming to have been blessed with the utmost luck, they mention Halsin. It really is lucky that you haven’t died, much more get useful information in the palm of your hands. Through the bits of words exchanged, you gather he runs a night clinic. It fronts as a bookstore, with someone by the name of Astarion up front. You don’t catch why it runs at night or why the clinic is secret, but you decide that’s not necessary to know at this point.

Eventually, the distance between you and the group grew. But your journey to Baldur’s Gate had much longer to go.

That’s a story for another time.

What mattered, was here and now. Staring up at a pale elf with surprisingly red eyes. He regarded you with a stink eye. Like you tracked mud into the shop. In fact, you even looked down at your shoes and the floor behind you. With the amount of disdain he was sending you were sure you must’ve broken something along the way. Alas, floor was clear and door was intact.

“Ahem,” you started, not meeting his gaze again. “I’ve come seeking the healing this place offers. I’m seeking Halsin.” Finally your eyes draw slowly upwards toward his. You thought maybe those words would be like the secret password to melt away the standoffish attitude he donned. No luck. He still looked like someone shoved a stick up his ass.

“Right. That sounds nice. But you’re mistaken. There’s no clinic here,” he informed you. With each syllable spoken, he enunciated it longer than necessary. There is an air of nobility to him. Now your brow furrows with your own disdain. Does he look down on you? For what? This man doesn’t know you. Your struggles or your voice.

Your arms crossed over your chest and your jaw clenched. “Are you not Astarion? Is this not the bookstore that opens only at night as a cover for refugees to seek hope and healing?” You challenged. Although shorter than him, you imagine yourself towering. He doesn’t shrink against your fire. You might as well be a little ant taking pieces of dust off a brick tower. Lucky that he doesn’t squash you under his boot.

With a sigh and an eye roll, he continued. “This is a bookstore. But we do not serve refugees. I’m sure you can find some poor sod willing to listen to your woes.”

What is this guy’s problem? It isn’t his words that convince you you must have the wrong person, but rather the pure venom and hatred he radiates. You’d think someone stole sunshine from him or something.

“So this is not where Halsin the Druid healer resides!?” Your voice raised in desperation. Regardless of how mean this spiteful elf is, if he speaks the truth, you’re fucked. You have no other lead of where to go, no place to stay, barely any money, no friends or family here. You’d have to basically resort to questioning people on the street like a parent looking for their lost child. The imagery is almost laughable if it weren’t for the dread surrounding the situation.

(Soda by nothing but thieves)
Before the sarcastic asshole can respond, you hear a loud creaking above your head. It silences the both of you. Your heads swivel towards the stairway adjacent to the counter that separates the both of you. The author of the creaking noises enters into view. Taller than the elf, and almost as tall as the ceiling, you’re sure it must be him. Most Druids are very obvious, much like yourself. Plant paraphernalia adorning your clothes and likeness. His hair is shoulder length and brown, his body stern and lean. You’d be afraid if it weren’t for stories of his kindness. Even if you hadn’t heard those stories, his face radiated a jovial mood. He seemed the opposite of the clerk Astarion. Your smile grows. This is it, your hope, your chance. If he recognizes you, or at least believes you’re from the grove, he might actually agree to help you. Halsin finished his descent before placing his hands on his hips, looking the both of you and Astarion over.

“I heard my name, something the matter?” He inquired, none the wiser about the sour mood Astarion exudes. Or at least you assume that’s Astarion. It could be someone else. You didn’t get a description of the other person running the store. This could just be a regular clerk or something.

You and the pale elf start to speak at the same time.

“Yes-“

“No-“

You glare at each other.

“Astarion, let our guest explain herself,” Halsin urged, much to the confirmed Astarion’s displeasure. He already knows why you’re here, and he would rather explain than let you try to put your potential charm on. Thankfully, he stays silent. You have much more to say to Halsin than this cloud of anger anyway.

“I’m from the grove. Where you used to be keeper. I was searching for you, and I heard of this clinic. I’m searching for a healer of great expertise. My ailments are out of the grove’s knowledge. I’m begging you please to just. Try?” You spoke quickly, but tried to be as precise as possible. It felt like pleading for your life, maybe you were. You weren’t entirely sure how much he could do for you, but if some improvement was possible you’d take it. Anything to get you back to your previous self. You’d barely become an adult before the illness started to take you. At first, the druids thought maybe you just lost the childlike spark you had. Your adjustment to grown up responsibilities was worse than others. But it became apparent that was not the case. You not only mourned the childhood you lost, but the adulthood you could not have. Lost somewhere between a melancholy adolescence and decaying seniority. The extent of yourself was not yet known to these two.

(Washing machine heart by mitski, not really relevant to the story but it started playing and it’s a banger so.)
Halsin’s expression very quickly became empathetic. This gave you a sense of relief. He is appearing to be as kind as they said, and after the verbal punching you got from Astarion even just a kind look was nice to have.

“I’d be happy to assist you, Silvanus keep you,” he offered you, filling you with elation.

Astarion on the other hand, looked as though he would pop a blood vessel. This clearly had to do with something more than just you. You weren’t so self centered to believe he hated you that much just from your appearance. You didn’t think you were much of a looker, with your softer body and rounder face. But again. It was self centered to think this was just about you. With a clenched fist, he interjected.

“I know you enjoy charity to a detriment Halsin, but we have a system here. How to you intend to make up for the supplies she’s going to take up?” Astarion spat. You took in his words, trying to assess them. A system…This wasn’t a place for refugees after all. Something specific was going on here. Potentially criminal. Though criminal wasn’t likely with Halsin involved, especially since he seems to retain his kind nature. That much was clear with Astarion’s bitter sentiments toward him. You knew better than to ask questions about this system. However, you figured you could offer something to try to keep the peace.

“I can help. Make myself useful. I’m sure you get busy with just two people, and since I’m a Druid too I can offer some help with healing when I have more strength,” you spoke carefully, aiming your words purely at Astarion. You knew you could probably take the entire place’s supplies and Halsin wouldn’t care so long as he knew he helped someone. Things can be replaced but hope cannot. Sorrow can be healed but it festers. Time is of essence for cases like yours. It’s worth the cost, to Halsin.

The elf’s eyebrows furrow and unfurrow. He’s swishing your words around his head like rocks being tumbled. Uncovering the muck and getting to the root. What’s the cost, what do you have to offer, is it truly worth it? There’s more than what meets the eye. This is more complicated than you know, but it’s okay. You just hope the simple offer is enough to buy your place here for the meantime.

“Okay, deal. You can stay.”

Chapter Text

With that, Halsin guided you up the creaky stairs into the section that must be the actual clinic. The area is lit with firelight and candles scattered throughout. There’s worn bookshelves with books equally distressed. Plants with buzzing moths and fireflies. He’s made it a small indoor grove. There’s small weapons and some bows, potions and an alchemy lab. You notice that a lot of the plants are healing herbs and medicinal. Even though it’s night, the area feels alive. You didn’t get a good glance at the downstairs, but you reckon it lacks the same energy. The floor is made of aged floorboards, explaining the loud noises that each step creates. There’s a bed a few steps in front of the stairs, much too small for Halsin, but seeming to be his anyway. Another bed is made on top of a stone slab, with much less dressing to it. Likely a temporary place for patients. There’s a slight dirt smell and something of rotting wood. It’s likely the infrastructure needs frequent repairs to keep itself together. Though the smell reminds you of home. It probably reminds him of it as well.

Halsin gestured to the stone bed and you opt for a sitting position. He grabbed some paper and something to write with. It’s likely he just needs your information at this point. Not like he can just toss you any old healing potion and expect all your problems to go away. He knows the grove is capable of pretty efficient care, so this must be quite the predicament.

“Alright, start from the beginning, tell me what ails you,” he ordered softly, giving you a knowing look. It won’t be easy saying it. He could be here all day and night if you went into every detail. You have to be concise, get all the important information out without taking forever. You take a deep breath and begin. (A/N I will try to be vague where I can, because I want to try to make this inclusive for my fellow disabled folks, but feel free to input or override any details with your own experiences).

(Wasted summers by juju<3)
“It hasn’t been around forever, but long enough I know it won’t kill me. It got worse, but then it stayed the same. I have pain. Not enough to be excruciating but. Enough to make me feel exhausted. My head aches, my body feels as though I’ve got the common fever. But it’s not that. It comes and goes. Some days I’m all but better, others I don’t get out of bed. My mood can be insufferable. Maybe a byproduct of the physical. All I know is that what they give me alleviates some of the pain. Though I remain tired. The pain always returns too. My magic has weakened, my wildshape doesn’t last like it should. My moonbeam more like a candle. I’m weakened and my body is almost like a prison. I don’t ask for a cure. If I have to take potions everyday, so be it. But I don’t want a bandage. I want to be alive like everyone else. Not… like this.”

You’re afraid that maybe you’ve spoken too much but this isn’t something that can be said in one sentence. You could’ve probably said a lot more if you let yourself. This should be sufficient. Hopefully.

Halsin was writing notes between your words, nodding here and there. You feel touched but sorry at the worry and creases in his forehead and expressions. It’s clear he feels for you. Some people don’t like pity. Sometimes you don’t. It depends on how it’s delivered. Pity can be used as a tool to look down on someone. Other times it is a feeling of true empathy. Feeling that someone suffers such a fate that you can’t help but try to hurt for them. To even the scales, balance the burden. People don’t want to feel too good when you’re feeling so bad. And you can respect that. Halsin is certainly the latter. You know he would take on your pain if he could. It’s in his nature, much like many other Druids, to try to fix the world’s problems.

“You’re stronger than you think you are. And that isn’t to say you’re not using your strength, but to say bearing these blights is something to be commended. I hope you know that,” he remarked, you feel like you want to cry but you don’t. “Tell me, what’s your name?”

You laughed a little, feeling embarrassed. Lord, you started giving your life story before you told the poor man your name. Quickly, you remedied this by giving your name. He responds with a smile. At least your name didn’t hold such dread. You sometimes felt like a buoy of negativity that no one wanted to be around.

“Nice to meet you, and you know my name so I won’t bother repeating it. We have more important things to do. This is something that can’t be undone so easily. I assume our grove leaders did their due diligence and checked for curses or anything of that nature?” Halsin inquired.

“Yes, they checked me for poisons too, giving me antidotes and such, they tried basic restoration,” you trailed off, not wanting to list everything. He could read between the lines for that. Silence filled the space, besides the sound of him fumbling with parchment and writing little notes. He stood up and looked through some of his books, not giving you the grace of explaining his actions. You decided to continue investigating your surroundings, since your position on the stone bed gives you a bit more perspective.

There’s a wooden door you hasn’t noticed before, likely a closet. On your left, you get a better view out the window next to the alchemy desk. A garden balcony. More medicinal plants as well as basic vegetables grew there. In the moonlight you couldn’t make out much of the exact things growing, but it seemed it was enough to probably provide food for Astarion and Halsin. You wondered if they would be feeding you, or where you’d be sleeping. These questions you kept tucked in the back of your mind for future use. There are a few wooden stools and chairs on there as well. It filled you with a bit of warmth imagining friends sitting out there, enjoying the night and laughing together. You hoped that’s what those chairs were for. Or maybe Halsin just liked to sit when he gardened.

Your wondering was interrupted by Halsin turning towards you.

“So, here’s what I think we can start with. Since basic healing doesn’t help much, but does relieve the pain, I will continue your healing with the addition of some potions. Additionally, I will gather some research on your condition or ones like it. I think I’ve heard of cases like yours, and there might be some medicine we can give to help get rid of the lingering problems.”

You nodded in response. This sounded promising. It was a good idea to keep the regular healing, since the lack of pain could at least keep the worst of things at bay. Before anyone can continue, the creaking of the stairs starts again. Astarion comes into view, and you decide to observe him better this time. You were a bit too frantic the first time you saw him to really see him.

He’s shorter than Halsin but still with a decent height. He has white curly hair, short in length, but long enough to conceal the majority of his ears. With the candlelight, it’s hard to tell, but it seems that he has either hazel or red eyes. You wonder if maybe he has some different ancestry besides elven. It would explain some of his odder features. He leaned against the wall, crossing his ankles. He seemed impossibly arrogant and this didn’t bode well for getting along with him.

“Well I trust you’re mostly finished for now?” He spoke, breaking the earnest mood. If you were a buoy of negativity, Astarion seemed to be an anchor. It was like the candles had gone out and darkness spread throughout. He’s lucky he’s handsome.

“Just about, she’s going to do healing sessions when you and I wake, and then I suppose you can give her tasks to complete and show her the ropes,” Halsin explained, some reluctance in his voice. Almost as though he’s not ready for you to leave this safe space.

“Right perfect, then she can get started-“

Halsin interrupted. “Well she just got here, she should rest,” he protested.

Astarion pouted, looking a little ridiculous you might add. The two shared glares, a silent argument for dominance. You coughed a little to break the staring contest and stood up.

“Perhaps you can just give me a little tour? That way we make some progress, but don’t overdo it?” You offered for compromise. You know you’re charity right now, and you don’t feel like being a burden. But Halsin is right. You’ve been traveling an awful long time, and starting a new job within hours of arriving doesn’t sound quite amazing. This is the best you feel you can offer without upsetting either of them completely.

Halsin shifted, giving you a look of worry. He would coddle you if you let him. Astarion is more pleased with this notion than Halsin is. Though it seems his displeasure is worse to bear than the druid’s. Astarion clasped his hands together in a theatrical manner.

“Wonderful, maybe you won’t be such an urchin after all!” He mocked lightly, his fangs becoming obvious. This was another indication he had some other ancestry or something. You also know vampires have fangs, but you didn’t know much about them. They seemed to be more of a far away myth than a reality. But you know they exist. Halsin shot another angry look, which caused Astarion to raise his hands in surrender. It’s a little comical. He gestured for you to come follow him, so you do.

Back down the creaky stairs. Past the small desk is the rest of the establishment. Library? Bookstore… it seemed a bit of a mishmash. Books were organized but they looked a bit worn, much like the ones Halsin had. There was also a collection of scrolls in a locked display case. In a lowered section of flooring there were couches and chairs with end tables that were collecting dust. You figured this place wasn’t much for lounging. People most likely stopped by, grabbed what they wanted, and left. The ceiling was low, but had a small hanging brazier. It was cozy in its own way. The energy wasn’t as dismal as you anticipated, not tainted with Astarion’s sarcasm and bitterness. You noticed scraps of newspaper on the floor. Nobody cleaned around here. There was another door leading to the outside, as you could see from its glass panes. You noticed a hatch as well. Not quite unusual, most places have one. The only thing you saw that was of any particular note, was a table with a small black pouch. If he doesn’t mention what that is, you will surely ask.

You stop behind the desk, the back library in view, as well as the unorganized heap of books cleverly hidden behind it. Well, maybe not so clever considering anyone who lounges in the library will be able to see it. It’s almost enough to make you giggle.

“Alright. The books are organized in alphabetic order, by title, not by author. I find it makes more sense that way. They don’t have any particular genres in common, we don’t have enough books here to do that. Each book we receive, either through donation or purchase from another, gets marked with a stamp,” he began without much enthusiasm. He pulled out the stamp, modeling it for you and then putting it away. “That stamp ensures no half-wit tries to steal it. If the book leaves the premises, it will explode.”

Your eyes widen.

“That seems, a bit excessive,” you remarked in a quiet voice.

To your surprise he laughed in response, delighted at your concern.

“Yes it is, no one steals from us. If someone makes a purchase you can simply take ink and sign it with the date, I don’t know the specifics of how it works but make sure no one takes that ink pot. If it runs out you tell me,” he continued. You tried to shrug off his seemingly careless attitude. You supposed if someone wanted to steal a book or a scroll they’re probably not doing it to feed their family. In any other situation you’d probably not try to rationalize it, but you’re going to be staying here. So it’s best you not try to harbor too much resentment so soon.

“That table back there has a pouch that’s also enchanted, another gift from an old friend of mine,” he seemed to look a bit happy but forlorn at the idea of this old friend. “If a customer is unsure what they want, they can reach in and a random book from our shelves will be pulled out.” Neat. The seals must have a dual purpose. Satiate curiosity of innocent book readers and… decimate book thieves…

“You will be tasked with organizing these new books and putting them away. I can’t be bothered. You can also clean I guess. But don’t do any of this without me here just yet. I want to make sure you don’t do something stupid,” he eyed you with an unusual amount of vitriol. You assumed he might mean more than just the books. “Any questions?”

“Uh, yes. Three.” He rolled his eyes, but let you continue. “Where will I sleep? What will I eat? And uh, am I able to sit… periodically?” You’d like to think you were pretty concise. Hopefully he appreciated that.

“I have a couch in the cellar that’s tucked away you can sleep on, I’ll show you in a bit. As for food, that’s the oaf’s jurisdiction. I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to supply you with sustenance. As for that third question,” his face twisted. “What an odd question. Are you lazy or something?”

You’d laugh if it didn’t feel inappropriate. He either forgot you’re here because you’re sick, or he just didn’t realize your illness would require breaks.

“Well, considering I have the constitution of an undead thrall two seconds from returning to the grave, I unfortunately don’t run for very long before needing to sit,” you remarked with a small bittersweet grin. Being the butt of your joke didn’t always have perks. Though it seemed satisfying right now. He probably thought you had a smooth endless journey here, but truth be told the reason you gained so much distance between you and that group in the underdark is well… you kept having to stop. More than they did. Your journey took much longer than most people’s did. It ashamed you to admit that, but it was true. That’s what you were here for.

Astarion’s face seems to become more of a scowl before a wave of realization hits him. He pauses for a moment, before he surprisingly softens. A sadness entering his eyes. He gazed at you in a way that makes you feel shy. Like he knows something about you that you don’t. There’s an understanding there that confuses you. But you’re appreciative there’s actual empathy coming from him.

“Right, I forgot. Yes, as long as you prove useful. You can rest as you need,” his tone has changed, but remains even and unbreaking. Still, it’s better than the sarcasm that you’ve been drowning in since you’ve met him. You wondered if maybe it’s just instinct to him. Like how you can’t seem to stop making bad jokes about yourself, he can’t seem to stop being sarcastic. You don’t know if you can blame him for that. Sarcasm is the joker’s escape from reality. If you lace all your words with exaggerations and half truths, you won’t have to face the consequences. The world that so badly wants to swallow you whole. Eyes closed, avoiding the glass bridge that covers the chasm of despair.

“Speaking of, I’ll show you where you can sleep tonight. Or…” he trails off, since you’ll be sleeping at dawn. “Anyway, it’s just down here, I’ll go first in good faith.” He earned a laugh from you. Obviously going into a deep dark cellar of a stranger is the epitome of murder and other horrors, but he can’t so easily lock you in if he goes first. So he does. Climbing down yet another creaky object, a ladder. Light floods the cellar as you noticed him lighting candles and oil lamps. You made your own descent down, clenching your jaw to hold back your noises of discomfort.

You cracked your joints and stretched after your feet found the stone floor. It’s funny that above ground is usually wooden, but below is stone. You guess it’s because of dirt and water. Something beyond your knowledge. It’s yet another area to take in. You’d feel a little overwhelmed if you hasn’t been taking in several new sights over the last few months. There are sketches stuck to the walls, weapons on tables and tucked around, armor on a mannequin. Many number of trinkets and some overfilled chests. There’s a mirror with cracked glass and dirt covering it. It must’ve gone through quite a beating. The delicate bronze that surrounds the glass seems clean though. There’s a bed, surprisingly bigger and better quality than the one Halsin has. The blankets and pillows are strewn about. You imagined that bed’s never been neat. There are empty glasses and bottles grouped on end tables. You noticed the nook Astarion mentioned. The couch is a royal purple, but a tad distressed with fabric tearing in some places. For some reason you can imagine Astarion lounging on it, reading a book and drinking a glass of wine. You think maybe it’s the upside down book and empty bottle of wine next to it. The candlelight barely reaches over there, but it does have a certain charm to it. As you approached it, you squinted at a painting above it. You recognize Astarion in it, a half happy smile and arms around two people you don’t recognize. Halsin stands behind him. There’s a tiefling next to Halsin who’s almost about as tall as him, but not quite. She’s got a huge grin. She looks friendly. There’s a girl with a smile of a similar size to Astsrion’s, white haired and arms crossed. What looks like a devil stands, looking regal. You can’t recognize the other girl, she looks almost like an elf. But she looks angry, like she didn’t even want to be there. You were surprised she looked more upset than Astarion. Next to Astarion is a man with long brown hair and facial hair, he’s grinning, and you realize he’s ruffling Astarion’s hair. Before you get to examining the other person, Astarion interrupts you.

“Old friends,” he half asses an explanation. “You might meet some of them if you stick around long enough.” His bittersweet smile is actually soft enough you can’t help but smile back. Sometimes we have to leave people we love behind, you can understand that.

“They seem nice, some of them at least,” you joked, making another glance at the angry girl. You thought he might’ve found offense with those words, but instead he laughed. You’re glad he can at least take what he dishes out.

“It’s not quite time for me to rest darling, but you can go to sleep now, you’ve got a busy night tomorrow,” he informed you. You’re not sure if he’s trying to mess with you or remind you you have to work for this. Either way you’re happy to be given the chance to rest. Though you know you probably won’t fall asleep very fast. Despite the exhaustion settling into your bones.

Astarion turned to climb back up, but you interrupt him.

“Could I, borrow a book?” You asked, probably the most meek you’ve sounded since you’ve gotten here. For some reason it feels like you’re pushing your luck. So you brace yourself for his reaction.

He paused, turning back towards you, examining you with a neutral expression.

“Wait here.”

And so you do.

Within moments he returned, and a dusty pile of books plopped on the stone floor. You’re shocked he’d be so rough with them. His head poked down through the cellar hatch.

“There, a fiction book, a book about medicine, and a book about Druidic magic. Take your pick. Goodnight.”

He shoved the hatch closed before you could say another word. It’s funny. He seemed so insensitive, but… you felt it was somewhat sweet how he picked books for you. Maybe he actually had a passion for literature. You examined them closely. The fiction one was newer, you surmised from skimming that it was about a time traveling wizard. The medical book was worn and old, looked like the spine was just barely keeping the pages together. Many hands have turned these pages searching for something. The Druidic book was neither worn nor new. Not many outside of their groves and circles had much interest in druid magic or religion. You took the books to what’s now your couch. Opting for the fiction book, tucking the others under the couch for later, you began to read.

You were positively exhausted, but your mind needed to calm down. Forget all the dreadful confusing reality. You didn’t want to catalog all the new information, you wanted to pretend this was your old bed in your grove. Like the moonlight was spilling in and the sounds of familiars scuttling across the floor were encompassing the night. This cellar smelled like the upper floor did, minus the rotting wood. The stone seemed to give off a bit of an iron smell. You weren’t sure why but you thought you smelled flowers too. As you began to read the tale of a random wizard Ivan who discovered the power of time travel, you slowly drifted off. Without any blankets and barely a pillow, the book rested on your chest, and you fell asleep.

Chapter Text

When you wake up, the cellar is dreadfully dark besides a small candle lit on a table near the ladder. It takes you a few moments to gather your bearings. You didn’t fully remember where you were. After rubbing your eyes, the thoughts come flooding in. The book you were reading is no longer on your chest, through the very dim light it seems to have been placed next to you on the floor. Another thing of note… you now have a blanket. It’s surprisingly soft and thicker than you would’ve expected. You lifted the fabric off of yourself. Quietly, you step towards the ladder. You notice a figure in the large bed, it’s too dark to fully confirm it, but you’re quite sure it’s Astarion. He’s without a blanket. Your heart aches in a strange way. He seems full of contradictions. You decided to trace your steps back, and carefully drape the blanket back over the sleeping figure. When you’re a bit closer you’re definitely sure it’s Astarion. White hair seeming obvious in the dark. He sleeps on his side, arm draped across the empty space. It almost feels sad. Your awareness catches up to you and you quietly rush to leave, cursing the creaking of the ladder.

When the hatch squeals open, you know he has to have woken. But yet he remained still. Hopefully he’s not dead. You crawl out, cursing your stiff body, and close the hatch softly. The sun is out, but it seems not for much longer. You sit, basking in the quiet stillness for a moment. You see dust dancing in the weak sun rays. A soft smile rugs at your lips. Optimism stirs. It’s an unfamiliar feeling. You’d say you’re hopeful, but not optimistic. You /hope/ that things will go okay, but you didn’t expect them to. Yes, things, tend to be upside down. This entire trip, has been the most fortunate string of events to occur for you. You soak it in.

Stirring in the upper floor breaks you from your slight trance, and you move to go up those stairs. This time you’re glad for the noise, not wanting to catch Halsin off guard. It seems though, instead you are caught off guard. His shirtless figure moving around picking different plants around the room. You shielded your eyes and turned around, unsure of how he would react to your potentially invasive eyes.

“Um,” you say briefly.

“Ah!” He greeted you by name, and you hear almost roaring laughter. “Don’t be so modest, I’m not ashamed to be casual.”

You’re not sure if that’s a response you wanted to hear, but you turned to face him anyway. His grin is bright enough you’d feel rude not return it, but your face feels hot. You feel like your brain is screaming ‘his eyes are up here idiot!’ It seems Halsin noticed your apprehension and decided to don a loose leather top despite his lack of ‘shame to be casual.’ He opened the door to the balcony, grabbing a few things. You’re once again standing and waiting for him to explain or show what he’s doing. He returned, closing the door with his leg despite having a free hand. He opens a cabinet and pulls out something wrapped in cloth and some wooden bowls.

He beckoned you towards a small table with two stools. You sat as requested, and hold back laughter seeing his large frame sitting across from you. He barely fits in the stool and you’re almost sure his hand is only half the size of the table. He passes you a bowl filled with various berries and some seeds. He has one of his own. The cloth contained a loaf of bread that he breaks in half, and he offers you one of the halves. You smiled and grabbed it. This is not too dissimilar to the breakfasts you had at the grove. It was comforting to have someone who felt like a friend despite having only just met them. He’s comfortable with your choice of silence, still partly waking up. You wonder why Astarion doesn’t join for breakfast but perhaps he stays up much later. You’re still surprised you managed to wake earlier than him. The berries taste wonderful, perfectly fresh. The bread however, is slightly stale. It’s clear Halsin isn’t much of a cook, just a gardener. That’s valuable though, people out there are willing to cook for a lesser price if the ingredients are provided, or most of them.

“Oh right,” Halsin said and quickly hopped up, grabbing a jar. He poured the both of you cups of water. You’re extremely grateful, you haven’t had much to drink lately. With an almost embarrassing fervor you gulped the water within a matter of seconds. You sheepishly look at Halsin, who only chuckles and pours you another cup. This one you take a bit more time with. You figured he probably either produces his own water or collects rain water to purify. You both finished your breakfast with more silence. Both of you looking out the window at the setting sun. It’s mostly obscured by other buildings, but what you can see is pretty. It paints the sky a pale orange. A reward for waking up when the sun begins to set. It’s usually a reminder of your fatigued nature, but here it seems to be the norm. You wondered if Halsin appreciated this schedule or not.

When it’s clear you both are finished, Halsin rises with a stretch. It appeared he was far more prepared to face today than you were. You were apprehensive. Afraid that you’d mess something up, or for whatever reason not respond well to healing. Remaining in your seat, you watched him light the candles that would soon be needed once the darkness prevailed. Without prompting, you sat back on the patient’s bed, swinging your legs to fidget. Halsin gives a brief smile.

“I‘ll go ahead and start using the standard healing spells, just let me know if you find any discomfort,” he informed you. You nodded in response. This is a place, a situation that’s too familiar. At the infirmary, sitting and waiting to feel better. The better never truly coming. Though, you want to feel thankful for what “better” you get, no matter how small. It’s the little things right? That people are supposed to be thankful for? That’s what you keep inside your head. Keeping high hopes, expectations, wanting too much… that’s a recipe for disaster. You can’t be greedy. You can’t ask for too much. Hell, sometimes you can’t even ask for anything. You tried to redirect your thoughts as Halsin’s spell is prepared. He comes a few steps closer, watching your expressions like a hawk. With one hand on your shoulder he completed the spell. You feel some of the aches and pains lift. There is still that overall malaise, but you feel looser. You shake away that feeling. Push it down. You are not drowning in molasses. You are not going slow motion. You’re rejuvenated. Right? Right.

You masked whatever doubts you have, whatever melancholy threatens to take your appreciation for the little things away. Halsin raised his eyebrows as if to ask ‘how are you?’ You stood up and shook out your hands, stretching and cracking your joints again.

“It’s better, somewhat, thank you,” you offered, but you’re avoiding eye contact. Luckily Halsin isn’t sensing that as a sign of pain. He patted your shoulder almost like a teacher would, or how a parent would after you completed your chores or something. It makes you smile earnestly, and give your healer a glance.

(Prologue, chase Petra, highly recommend listening)
You nearly jumped out of your skin as Astarion speaks. You didn’t hear the creaking of the stairs or any of his shuffling. More time must’ve passed than you realized, you were so focused on feigning wellness you didn’t notice anything else.

“Dear, I hate to interrupt the party, but will you release your charge? I could use the assistance,” the sarcasm in his tone shows that the pet name is not to be taken seriously. He said it the same way he said ‘darling’ to you, hence you not reacting to it. It seems he liked to sprinkle them into sentences like curse words. Quite funny really. You appreciated a sarcasm that was less mean and more ironic.

Halsin seemed a little less angry at the intrusion than yesterday, stepping to the side to let you by.

“Sure, ah, let me just give her the potion,” he remembered and twisted to grab the large bottle that was already on the desk. He must’ve prepared it this morning or after you went with Astarion. He passed it to you and you downed it quickly. Used to the taste, a mix of a sweet minty taste with a chalky texture. They both looked the slightest bit surprised at your easy swig. Adventurers were usually the ones so used to the taste of a healing potion, and you were no adventurer. So they learned, adventurers, and really cool sick people. You laughed a bit to yourself at the thought. You gave the bottle back to Halsin with a nod of thanks, and continued forward with Astarion.

“Do you remember most of what I told you yesterday?” He asked, a bored attitude. You rolled your eyes, responding with the rules he told you previously. He is not impressed, the question was borderline rhetorical. Despite his bored and annoyed attitude, a stool has appeared behind the counter. He stood quite a few paces away from it and leaned against the counter.

“There, your little…” he paused and makes some uncertain gestures towards the stool, trying to appear uninterested. “Space. Now be a doll and stamp the new books and when you’re done please sort them. I’ll deal with the customer since you won’t know your head from your ass when it comes to their questions.”

Maybe you’d know a little bit…. Regardless you do as your told, having trouble straightening your back as you sit on the stool. Damn stools and their lack of backs. Astarion gave you a sideways glance, and you sideways glared. Feeling a bit defensive. There’s no need to be judgmental. You get started on your task though, simple enough. The books are all in various conditions. You can’t help but examine them before stamping, wanting to get a peek at their contents. Even though there’s not much else for Astarion to do but observe you, you’re hoping he’s not paying too much attention. For the moment, either way, he doesn’t seem to mind. The first book has an unmarked leather cover. This would be a pain to sort if there’s no title. You opened it and flipped through. In fact there is no title. It seems to be a collection of alchemical recipes though. Each of them ranging from basic to more niche, including a potion of hair growth. Although, this means you have to ask Astarion another question. Probably both his and your worst fear at the moment. Instead, you stamped the book and moved it to a separate new pile. You’ll burn that bridge when you get to it.

The next few books were a part of a series. You felt it would be a shame they would be filed separately, since it’s by title not author. Astarion wasn’t too smart for doing alphabetical order. You smiled too yourself as your stamped these, enjoying the idea of him being a bit inferior.

The inane task of stamping gets interrupted, just when you were starting to feel bored. Good timing, you supposed. Though, examining the figure made you want to go back to the silence and the occasional cynical glance from your elf “friend.” She was a tall drow elf. Her eye was scarred over, clothes tattered and covered with various stains. Some of them clearly blood. Her gaze was steel, murderous. You gulped. Astarion’s eyes found their way to you, and a smirk covered his face. He could tell you were nervous and he thought it was amusing. In the next beat, he opens his arms in a greeting.

“Adalia!” He greeted, a fang filled grin occupied his face. You almost visibly shrank at his confident jovial greeting. Clearly playing up his excitement to see her. However, her murderous gaze changes to one of amusement. She gave him a curt mini salute and sauntered up to the desk, leaning on the counter. Unfortunately for you, she turns her eyes towards you, eyeing you up and down. You curse yourself for being so shy. It might come off as rude but you refuse to meet her gaze. Her finger pointed towards you, as she turned back to Astarion.

“You got a dog or something?” She mocked you, making your cheeks feel red. You didn’t think she would be worse than Astarion with her words. Thick skin is supposed to be your strong suit, taking pain is easy for you. Though being outside of the grove, facing a new throng of people, you had hoped maybe they’d regard you differently. Surely someone out there finds you endearing? You’re insecure. People capitalize on it. Whether in the grove or here in Baldur’s Gate, they seek to take advantage of anyone’s weakness. If only just to feel stronger. Atasrion shifted, giving you a look you can’t decipher.

“Ah, no, not a pet of mine,” he responded. “She’s offered assistance. You know how I am with organization.” From what you’d gathered, it wasn’t often Astarion would say something remotely self deprecating. It dawns on you he’s trying to make you seem useful. Defending you in a very roundabout way.

Adalia lets out a breathy laugh, one that makes her seem less harsh.

“Yes, you can’t find shit in here and it’s your store. Can the whelp find scrolls for me? I need some protection,” she requested. You winced internally at yet another derogatory term. Did you really look that pathetic? You weren’t sure. You tried straightening your back more. It wasn’t much use. You were only slouched slightly…

Astarion gives another puzzling look but moves away from the counter to beckon the drow towards the locked cabinet of scrolls.

“It’s only her first day, plus I don’t trust her with the key,” he drawled, earning a laugh from her. You wanted to yell. Can’t he just say something nice and be straightforward? Of course he had to add the comment about the key. It would make the previous defense dissolve away. Forgotten because of the funny little joke. Like he had to have the last word even though you didn’t even speak. Despite your anger, you swiveled towards them, wanting to take note of the scroll cabinet’s organization. In case one day you become trustworthy enough to hold the key.

“We have a few shield ones, one of protection from good and evil,” he hummed as he unlocked the cabinet and thrummed through them. “Sanctuary…and if you want to spend some big coin, invulnerability.” You can tell that he wants her to spend some big coin. Adalia looks at the scrolls and then counts the change in her pouch, weighing her options.

“If I give you cloudkill, … and…polymorph” she paused and rummaged through her supplies again. “How much would it cost for a sanctuary and invulnerability?”

Astarion gives a fake laugh. Or at least it sounded fake to you.

“Adalia! I didn’t take you for someone who would trade pain for protection!” He quipped. He’s buying some time before giving her a price. He stands and claps his hand, bouncing on his toes for a second. “Two thousand.”

Adalia scoffs. You haven’t done much bartering or trading, you have no idea how high he’s ringing her out.

“That’s full price!” She argued with him.

“Well darling how am I supposed to make a profit if I sell under the price I bought it?” He continues to talk with a sweet sarcasm that tells you this is just commonplace banter between traders.

“Fifteen hundred,” she countered smugly. He makes a “tsk tsk” noise in response. This is almost like a play. It seems she believes she’s made a good deal, regardless. Maybe that’s why Astarion is chastising her.

“Thought you’d put up a better fight, sold,” he chuckled and handed her the scrolls after breaking the seal as she handed hers and the gold. He put them away in no way that seemed organized. Adalia shoved the scrolls into her bag once she had tied them with string.

“Pleasure doing business snowman,” she teased with a toothy grin. Without any other words between them, she exited the store. Astarion sauntered back to his post, elbows on the desk, hands clasped, and leaning forward. For a moment you studied him, candlelight illuminating his profile and casting shadows. He looks nice like this. Subdued. Not trying to be anything, just passive. You didn’t know that this was a luxury to him. Something he treasured. To be able to be idle without a looming threat over his head at all times. His eyes slithered towards your stare, and you quickly fumbled with another book. Quickly returning to the task you were supposed to be doing this whole time. If it weren’t for the obvious ego boost you just gave him, he probably would’ve chastised you.

You ignored the frustration you felt from his head being bigger than this room and felt grateful for the fact your new “boss” wasn’t about to chew your own head off for slacking off. This time you’re thankful to return to the tedious task of stamping books. You’re about halfway through the pile anyway.

As you progressed to the last few books, another patron comes in. This one is either human or half elf, it’s hard to tell. He’s around your age you assume, or the equivalent. Shaggy white hair covered the majority of his head. Unlike the previous customer he bore no scars. Definitely seemed like the scholarly type. Astarion said nothing to him, simply watched him. The patron asked no questions and gave no greeting. It seemed like this might’ve been his first visit, or maybe his hundredth. You realized either could be just as true. Though, judging from Astarion’s intense study of the man, it was more likely the former. Ridden with curiosity, you couldn’t help but watch him too. He perused the books, picking up a few that piqued his interest. Astarion, who seemed to have eyes everywhere, slid his hand towards your pile of books and tapped. He was indicating that it was not your job to stare menacingly at new patrons, that was /his/ job. One he clearly enjoyed and didn’t need to share with you.

Hiding your utter disappointment, you picked up a portion of the stack. On the desk you organized the small portion into alphabetic order. Then the other portion, then the next, until the full stack was in order. You split the stack again, carrying as much as was comfortable to do so. It felt a bit embarrassing to try to mosey around the store, finding the exact spot each book went, while another person was trying to browse. It seemed you weren’t destined to cross paths anyway. The patron decided on something, and sat in one of the dusty old couches. You wondered if he liked the smell of mildew and old things. Surely he had to, if he preferred to sit and read here than anywhere else. You snuck a glance at Astarion, wondering if he would be content to stare at the man while he read. Though, it seemed he returned to his previous post. Conveniently tilted more towards the back room, keeping a less conspicuous eye. It amused you, despite how boring this room was. Boring was good though.

The man stayed for a few hours, and you had run out of things to do. You figured it was getting pretty late anyway. You’d probably retire soon. As you had begun wiping tables with cloth, the door burst open. Nearly falling over, you clutched the cloth like a shield and stepped back. Astarion seemed ready before you could even process the scene. Two people, a short stout woman and a lanky man, were basically dragging in a bloodied person. You couldn’t catch much of their details before Astarion rushed to assist them carrying the poor soul up the stairs. You’d frozen in place. There was much shuffling upstairs, creaking and clinking of potion bottles. You felt as though coming up front to the desk would be more of an offense than staying still. There wasn’t a question about going up there. You’d be ushered out for sure.

Instead you decided your best use was to serve yourself and try to hear what was happening. There’s muffled frantic conversation. It might’ve been easy to hear but they weren’t talking very loud. You heard pained groans from the patient, and sounds of curing wounds. You prayed to Silvanus, hoping that it was within nature’s best interest to help this person. In silence, you hear the shuffling come to a still. A pin could drop. Holding your breath, a sound you don’t want to hear coated the air. Like a haunting terrible song. Wails of mourning. You’d heard them before. They didn’t make it. You gritted your teeth. Somehow you felt like this was your fault. It wasn’t, it really wasn’t. They were only seconds from death’s door before they came to yours. But when there’s no one to blame, it’s easier to blame yourself instead. Or rather. Someone. The two left the building solemnly, the lanky man shedding most of tears. As their exit had been made, shouts were heard. You weren’t focused enough to make them out, but Astarion stomped down the stairs. Anger boiling in his eyes. Clearly for him, it was easier to blame you.

(My heart is the worst kind of weapon, fall out boy)
“This, is why Halsin must be ready at all times. Not for your petty illness that will likely never go away, that no one knows for sure is real!” He spat at you. If the hurt was visible, it would be like acidic venom was spewed at you. Like your skin burned, your chest tightening, and your breath becoming thicker. Each inhale was labored, exhale was painful. He was opening old wounds; making them fresh and new. Your eyes burned but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. Though, this seems to make him angrier, like hurting you is the goal.

“I’m running something more important here, something that is bigger than anyone’s fucked up life, it belongs to me and I don’t need you fucking it up!”

You threw the rag on the floor. Feeling like he’d somehow undone all the healing you just did today. That whatever cure Halsin could find was no longer worth whatever abuse Astarion would unleash on you.

“Need I remind you, that this is thanks to Halsin, and /he/ agreed to help me. If you want to go against that, why don’t you run it without him? Oh! You can’t! You’re useless without him! He’s the star!” His words might burn you, make you feel as though you’re small. But you won’t go down without a fight. Defending yourself for no good reason, it wasn’t as though you felt you deserved defending. But maybe sinking to his level was akin to licking your wounds. “So don’t come yelling at me as if you’re running this, because even I have more power to heal these people and I’m a fucking cripple. So,” you balled your fists searching for something witty and hurtful but you just don’t have the energy. “Just fuck off okay!?”

Before you can assess whatever Astarion feels about your words, you threw the hatch open and climbed down. Throwing it shut, surrounding you in near darkness. The words weren’t meant to hurt him. They were just petty ways to try to undo what he made you feel. It didn’t work. You covered your mouth and buried yourself in the couch that smelled like mildew and death. Not caring if you were inhaling mold or bugs or dust. But you cried, it was surely a loud cry not too dissimilar to the mourners. Though the fabric muffled it quite well. You could hear it all too clearly. A reminder that you alone feel this pain, you alone bear it.

(A/N wanted to note for my use of the word cripple here, I am disabled, me and MC would only use the word to reclaim it. She is intending to throw it back at Astarion, because she assumes he would use a word like that at her, look down on her like that)

You collected yourself after a certain amount of time, glad that no one has come down here for you. Taking a deep breath, you blew out some of the less necessary candles, and fell asleep far easier than you expected. A part of you wondered, would Astarion still give you his blanket?

Chapter Text

(A/N I have managed to stay up 24 hours so I apologize if this isn’t my best work!)
When you wake up, you noticed a lot of the candles are lit. Astarion is not in his bed. How long had you slept for? There was no way to tell time down here in the dark cellar. You figured the toll of your own emotions was enough to have you down for the count for a good bit. It was reasonable to assume, that if you had slept for an inhumane amount of time, someone would’ve probably come to see if you were dead. Most likely Halsin. Though as you began to move off the damned couch, a thin sheet slid off you. You couldn’t help but laugh. He still couldn’t bare to leave you without a blanket, but opted to give you the top sheet instead of an actual blanket. What the hell is wrong with this man. You chewed each other out last night, but he still cared enough to cover you up? Maybe he felt like you were too stupid and needed help. Either way, you threw the sheet off and kept it at the couch. You’ll keep it this time.

Though you feel your disposition towards Astarion is surprisingly…not as disdainful as you expected. You’re still not entirely sure what his attitude is towards you. Hopefully nothing too dreadful, considering you have to spend another day with him. The healing with Halsin seems quite brief, he has lots of notes strewn about and what seem like many half filled bottles of work in progress potion brews. You decided you weren’t in the mood to ask questions, considering how much apprehension engulfed you.

Astarion doesn’t come to collect you when you’re done, which could be for a number of reasons. You don’t settle on which one you’d think most likely. Instead you thank Halsin for the food and the healing, as he noted you didn’t have dinner yesterday and fed you extra, and swiftly descended down the stairs. Astarion is in a slightly different place than what you’d normally observe. His boots are resting on a coffee table between the infamous moldy couches, reading a book and sipping some drink that appeared to be tea. Nothing changes in his gaze, he doesn’t move, and he seems to be nearly pretending you don’t exist. Maybe that’s easier for the both of you. A new haphazard pile of books sits below the counter. There must be a donation box that people can drop books in or return them in during the day. Or maybe Astarion just likes finding things to make you do. You’re not sure that would be in spite of you or to make you feel better. Regardless, you get to work.

(Cold cold cold, cage the elephant)
The days pass by in a much similar fashion. Barely any words exchanged between the three of you, though much more shared between you and Halsin. You’ve come to appreciate the regular visitors of the night library, some of them bothering to remember your name. The man from your first real night working, has started to come the same time each week. He’s very silent, but very pleasant. You enjoy his company, for when he does speak, he’s extremely polite. For some reason, Astarion seems in a worse mood when he arrives. Maybe he reminds him of someone. You couldn’t really care much less though. You’d read all the books he first offered you, and you put all of them back accordingly. This time, you’d likely pick out your own book. The relationship between you two is worse than when it started, and you didn’t feel like sharing the niceties of book recommendations.

As you skimmed the spines of the books softly, looking for your next pick, Halsin descended down the stairs. He didn’t seem to do that often. Astarion would eat by himself (or so you assumed) and you would join Halsin when you were done with the day’s work. There was never much need to venture down. So immediately, you knew something important was going on.

He smiled at you softly. He was carrying a pack and some small minor weapons. As he turned to to Astarion, so did you. The look he wore spoke volumes. He wasn’t anticipating a message he would want to receive. With a sigh, Halsin began.

“I’m going to take a short day trip to find some more literature on persistent non lethal diseases and illnesses, I’ve stocked the infirmary with plenty of potions to help anyone who comes by.”

Astarion doesn’t wait a beat before his face contorts to further anger and he protested, “We need you here Halsin, the-“ he cuts off, trying to find the right wording. “Our.. patients. Need you here. I can’t heal and this thing can barely stand half the time.” For whatever reason, it doesn’t hurt. Likely because it’s extremely evident he’s using you as a scapegoat to hide his desperation. He wants to hide the fact he is feeling inadequate.

Halsin glared daggers at Astarion, with more anger than he is typically capable of. You doubted it was entirely for your sake. It was moreso that he was tired of Astarion hiding behind insults to mask his feelings and pain.

“I am capable of making my own decisions. And like it or not, our /patients/ could stand to benefit from my journey,” Halsin remarked with an icy tone. The word ‘patients’ felt laced with some kind of sarcasm or hidden meaning you didn’t know. You shifted uncomfortably, you felt like the source of this conflict. Maybe not entirely to blame, but if you weren’t here it likely wouldn’t be happening. Astarion glared back at Halsin for a good long while, before Astarion said nothing. Simply, he returned to where he was posted, shoving his nose into a book about something other than this situation. If you were a kinder person you’d almost feel sorry for him. He’s acting a bit like a petulant brat. You’d almost think he’s always gotten his way.

Halsin approaches you, towering over as he usually does. He passed you a potion, in a somewhat stealth fashion. It wasn’t secret from Astarion but maybe just to prevent the frustration. To your dismay, Astarion is peeking over at you two. If Halsin noticed, he didn’t act like it. In a refreshingly gentle manner he held your hands and gave them a soft squeeze.

“Don’t worry, we’ll have some more answers soon,” he reassured you. He did not think to assure you you weren’t a burden. Only because it is so far from the truth to him, it couldn’t cross his mind. You are a patient in need, a kind soul. To him you are fragile and deserve care. It’s not an infantilizing way, just a way that says ‘I’m going to take care of you, like you need to be.’ If you /were/ a child, you’d probably give him a great big hug. Maybe even whine about missing him or something silly like that. The thought makes you smile, and his kindness makes you smile more. It feels like the first one you’ve worn in awhile. He released your hands, returning your smile, and left promptly.

Astarion seemed positively enraged. You decided you’d stop looking for a book to read, and instead focus on dusting and cleaning the books and crannies you’ve neglected. At the very least, his anger is contained within himself. You don’t have to face any arguments tonight. That much was fair.

(If it makes you happy, Michael cera palin)
For once it seemed, that as dawn was approaching, you’d be getting to bed at the same time as Astarion. Which was slightly awkward. Still not sharing any words, you both descended down to the cellar. Avoiding the sunlight. You, not on purpose. He, very much on purpose. Not daring to make eye contact, you make a beeline for the couch. It’s not the most comfortable thing. Your back has learned that well. In its own way though, it has gained its sentimental value. You don’t usually change unless you’re going to wash off somewhere, since your clothes don’t dirty much during the day anyway. You simply removed your boots, and wrapped yourself in your thin sheet. It was colder down here, but you didn’t mind it much. Though sometimes your thoughts would run amok and you’d imagine how it would feel to have a nice blanket, or maybe a person, to warm you up. You didn’t face Astarion or his bed from the way you lay. This is best.

Though, when you hear the obvious sounds of him dressing down, you feel your cheeks heat up. It seems both Halsin and Astarion have no idea about shame and modesty. You only hope he’s not stark naked. As if somehow reading your mind, you see him approach the dresser that is within the view of your nook. Thank god, he’s not naked. Wait. Why did you look? You flung your eyes back towards the ceiling, trying to imagine they have their own mind and will. That wasn’t your doing. It was your eyes doing. Yes. Right. They are quite willful, they look again. He’s facing the wall in front of you, he would be able to see you looking if he turned. Or depending on how well he can see in the dim candlelight, he might be able to see your eyes on him with just a slight head turn. Whatever, he’s not focused on you. It’s not like you’re staring at his ass or something.

Actually, you’re staring at his back. The angle isn’t quite right to get a full view of his back. He’s standing, somewhat diagonal, to your nook. It’s enough though, that you see… something… maybe some birthmarks or scarring? It didn’t seem dark enough to be birthmarks, just raised bumps. Maybe some kind of tattoo? Your eyes squinted to try to focus more. There’s not much light, you can barely see the tiny shadows casted below the bumped skin. Whatever it is, it’s completely indiscernible from your sight. Biting your lip in mild frustration, you nearly bit it off in fear, as you noticed a slight turn towards your direction. Your eyes closed as fast as you could possibly manage them. With held breath, you hope he didn’t think you were staring. Well. You were staring, but not like. Not in the way… you were just observing. That’s all. Not like you thought his backside was super attractive or something.

You don’t dare open your eyes. You heard the drawers of his dresser open, more rustling of clothing. Footsteps stepping away, but then closer. Stopped. Is he watching you now? You figured holding your breath might not be so smart anymore. Slowly, you released. Focusing with all your might to breathe like a normal person trying to sleep. A small sigh escaped him.

“If you’re awake. I know it’s not your fault that Halsin decided to go out for… ‘literature’” he said the last part mockingly. “It’s just. Annoying. Goodnight.” The footsteps then retreated back towards his bed, you know you can safely open your eyes. With the creaking of the wooden frame, you know he’s laid down. You feel hidden again. Able to wildly look around in the dim light, processing all your emotions. You know that processing emotions isn’t typically very visible or audible, but it still felt unsafe to do so with his prying eyes on you. You’re not sure if you appreciate his admission, absolving you of any conviction of crime. Of course you know it’s not your fault. You figured he knew too, but still wanted to believe it was anyway. Well, progress is progress. You relaxed your body, slowly drifting off into the morning that has become your night.

You wake up before Astarion this time, you can tell because he for some reason lights the candles before leaving the hatch. Maybe he does it for you? He’s supposed to see in the dark right? You shook off the thought, it didn’t matter. You slipped your shoes back on, quietly tiptoeing towards the ladder. You’re not sure why you always try to be quiet, even though you know it’s useless. Though you suppose you slept through Astarion leaving the other night, perhaps that was due to your exhaustion. It’s oddly quiet. Usually you’d at least hear the creaks upstairs. You know it’s cause Halsin’s not here, but it still doesn’t feel right. You frowned and headed upstairs. It felt a bit like an intrusion. You could snoop around if you so pleased. You didn’t. You stored the health potion he gave you up here, it’s the only place that really made sense anyway.

You noticed too, he forgot to mention the bowl he left for you. At least, you knew it was for you because he left a little note with your name on it next to it. On the back it read, “used some magic to make it fresh for the morning! Eat up! -Halsin” You see next to his name, he drew a small bear picture. How adorable. Taking the liberty of pouring yourself some water and eating the breakfast that was magically warm, you enjoyed the last licks of sunlight against the window. Birds flocked to the garden, singing their final songs before stowing away for the night. You found you seemed happiest alone sometimes. Ironically, it filled you with sadness. You didn’t choose to be alone. You’d rather her alone with someone. As contradictory as that sounds. Someone to enjoy silence with. The closest you’d have that with is Halsin. Astarion is too much of a ticking time bomb for you to enjoy silence with him. Though there’s more of a… no. You started to think of other things. It was a useless train of thought anyway.

Instead you planned your activities in your head. You’d sort books and clean, as per usual. Then, when that’s done, you’ll pick out a new book finally. For some reason, reading yourself to sleep knowing Astarion is just feet away from you, felt too vulnerable. You’ll make a note to go to sleep early tonight, so you can savor your alone time. Then again, the only time you feel safe to wash up is when the sun rises, so maybe you’ll wait until he’s asleep? You curse yourself for getting distracted once again. Finally, it seemed you were focusing on being productive.

Much to your surprise, time seemed to go by pretty fast. Before you knew it, your sarcastic ass of an elf boss was ascending the ladder. Of course he gives you no courtesy of a greeting, and simply decided that he would sit and read today. That is until the door opened. A single lone child, with blood dripping from her core. Astarion somehow seemed to get more pale than he already was. You weren’t entirely sure how often children were here at the clinic, but you figured by his reaction, it wasn’t much. He’s extremely quick to act, carrying her bridal style in one swift motion. He sprinted up the stairs, careful not bump her against anything. Unsure of what to do, you simply man the front desk. At least that’s all you can do. Astarion is shuffling around. To your relief you heard laughter, not too long after. The girl is alright.

Shortly thereafter, another person comes in. They spoke to you as if they knew you, like you would understand. An assumption that was incorrect.

“Hunters,” they breathed, limping with an arrow lodged in their thigh. From what you know of medicine, removing that arrow would’ve killed them. “They found our spot in the underdark, ambushed us. They started killing the /fucking kids/.” As they spoke, their blood stained teeth dripped. They’ve got internal wounds. Knowing not what hunters they spoke of, what hunters that would kill kids, you decided your only option is to help them up the stairs. You’re weak, but you tried.

Astarion is at the top before you get very far. Quickly he commandeers the patient from you. He cursed something under his breath, but it seemed he didn’t have the strength to argue with you or insult you. The only thing to be thankful for right now. You mulled over what he said. Ambush, group, children. The clinic will be flooded. It won’t be pretty. As if you could’ve been psychic, instead of just half smart, more people come in. You pointed groups to the stairs, clinking of bottles and many people drinking potions. At one point they even had to sit on the stairs, because the upstairs no longer had room.

This is quite literally the worst possible timing, and the worst case scenario. It would be selfish to think of how upsetting it is that Astarion’s worst fears came true. Because you know the upsetting part is how he would take it out on you. Though the last shred of luck the universe has granted you, it seemed all who managed to make it here have survived. Some of them well enough to regroup back to a safe haven off the road. You realize, that they must’ve been traveling with their injuries for quite some time. That most everyone who comes here must be desperate. They use what they have to get as far as they can. You shuddered at the thought of corpses along the trail to Baldur’s Gate that no one has claimed. The ones who didn’t make it. It pained you.

Exasperated, but satisfied Astarion led the majority of the patients out. Giving them some odds and ends to help their journey. Though the potions and their ingredients have run out. Seemingly in a better mood than you had seen him in awhile, Astarion spoke to you.

“The little girl, her name is Chessa. I have known her long, she will be staying her until she is well enough to travel alone,” he explained. “When Halsin returns tomorrow he will help her.”

There was something off about leaving a little girl to travel on her own. Shouldn’t someone be looking for her? Isn’t he concerned about her parents? If he has known her long, he must know she doesn’t have family. You’re still confused and have many questions, but you leave them for now. You nodded in response to his explanation, not wanting any words to sour the calm. It seemed even that was futile, and your last bit of luck has run out.

A coughing fills the upstairs and both you and Astarion rushed in. Chessa, began coughing up blood. She was shaking, either in pain or fear. Or maybe it was both. Either way, Astarion tore through the room frantically. Trying to find one more potion, one more set of ingredients, something.

“H-help,” she choked out, tears running down her cheeks. You felt sick to your stomach at the sight. For the first time, Astarion is fearful in front of you. He is like a bull in a China shop.

“The scrolls,” he breathed. “Maybe-“ he didn’t finish. Only ran downstairs to begin tearing apart the scroll cabinet. You blinked back tears at the suffering girl, clawing at her chest in panic and pain. You knew there was no healing scrolls. When Adalia came, she asked, all they had…

It’s up to you. Whatever strength, magic, is needed. At this point you’d be willing to even trade your life for her. Whatever life force you had anyway. Wiping back the tears, you haven’t been able to cast stronger spells. At worst, nothing would happen to her. Slightly less worse, it wouldn’t do anything. Best, you pull it off.

This spell was hard for even some of the better Druid’s of your age and skill. Ones who didn’t have mysterious illnesses plaguing them. But it had to be this one. This one will fix her. It’s heal. You took a deep breath, reciting the words, raising your hands, channeling all the energy you have. You pray… no you beg Silvanus that he will grant you the goddamned strength to pull this off. Not for you, not for your pride, but for the dying girl in front of you who needs to live.

Soft blue and white light radiates towards her, you lock eyes with her. With the spell working, you focus everything you have toward her and her wounds. There is not a single thought besides her well-being in your mind. No fear, no confidence, no doubt, no wonder, nothing but pure /being/. It is. It shall be. It always will be. This is what will happen, it has happened. You do whatever the fuck your brain can manage; whatever your body will let you. You felt your body shake, the world started to spin. But her coughing and writhing ceased. The both of you panting, as the blue light dissipated. You and Chessa locked eyes. She seemed as shocked as you were. Though, your body collapsed to the ground, only your elbows and hip keeping you upright. The girl looked down at you.

“Are you okay?” She asked, not afraid anymore.

“I should be asking you that kid,” you breathed. It’s a little fuzzy, the world right now. There’s ringing in your ears. You felt cold. All you could do was blink and breathe. But you did it. She’s okay. And she shouldn’t have anything else happen. It does not heal poisons, but any diseases.

“I’m okay now, thank you, it seems that was very difficult for you. I see why Astarion was so afraid,” she half joked, but not at your expense you sensed. You could tell she felt sympathy for you. The kid was a bit wiser than she looked. It was easy for her to discern you were probably here as a patient in some way too.

Astarion entered the room in a slow manner, fearing that he was hearing things, because surely she must’ve perished since you are incapable of anything right? You feel a slight joy at knowing you proved yourself useful at least once. Even if you feel as though you’ll lose consciousness at any moment. He then rushed to Chessa’s side, holding her head in his hands in a tender manner.

“Oh thank God sweetheart you made it, what happened?” He asked, sweeping the hair out of her face. A most pleasantly sweet interaction from him. You felt him incapable of expressing any positive emotions or affection to anyone. She smiled and swatted away his hands.

“She did it, with whatever strength she had left,” Chessa explained. You give a sheepish grin, lifting your head up but not daring to move an inch. Astarion gives you that look you can’t seem to understand. It seems some kind of odd mix of sadness, understanding, something. It seems neither positive nor negative. Whatever it is, he quickly washed it away and replaced it with his signature scowl he so loved to throw towards you.

“You are lucky you didn’t hurt her,” he remarked. You held back a scoff because everyone in this room knew there wasn’t really anyway to make the situation much worse than it already was. “Be careful, we can’t afford to use anymore supplies on you.”

Chessa glared at Astarion.

“You’re acting like a right ass,” she cursed, much to your surprise. Only your surprise though. “Don’t go bringing back old Astarion, he was a prick. You know better.”

He pouted towards her. In the moment, he was the child and she was the adult. This time, you couldn’t hold your laughter back. Maybe your inhibition was less than present. With how dizzy and sick you felt, you couldn’t muster the energy to ask what she meant by ‘old astarion.’ Instead, you picked yourself up, wobbling all the while. Noting that Astarion /does/ attempt to prevent you from falling, but does not touch you. You give him a halfhearted wave off, as if you’re in any state to refuse help. But you do anyway. Staggering down the stairs, you opened the front door. While you leaned against the wall, you retched onto the street. Thank god no one was around to see. Not bothering to attempt any cleaning, you managed to hobble back down to the cellar without cracking your skull on the stone floor. You collapsed onto the couch. Fuck. You still haven’t picked a damn book.

Chapter Text

(Rules, The Hoosiers)
Your head ached as the familiar candlelight of the cellar entered your waking vision. It took quite a while of staring at the ceiling for you to finally decide it was worth getting up. The pain was intense. It wasn’t the worst you’d ever felt, but it certainly wasn’t the average day for you. Envisioning Chessa’s relieved look reminded you how worth it was. Normally the pain that befalls you comes without any purpose. As you climbed up the ladder, you were relieved it was not so bad that you couldn’t move around as easily. You popped open the hatch and stood by the counter. Astarion looked at you, then nodded in greeting. This wasn’t much like him. You wondered if he was at least somewhat thankful for your intervention. Outside, you could see it was dark, dusk long gone.

The lack of creaking noises upstairs informed you that Halsin hadn’t returned just yet. Regardless, you ventured up those stairs to check and see if Chessa was present. Unfortunately, it appeared she had already left. You shifted your weight in discomfort, then slowly descended back into the main entry.

“Left before I woke,” Astarion commented, flipping through a book you swore he had already read. You nodded in response, not sure if he could even see. With the tone he spoke with, you knew conversation was out of the question. Just the same, you approached your stool and sat. Before you can begin looking at your small stack, Halsin returned. He looked none the worse for wear, pack slightly more full, and smile all the same. Your grin was involuntary, greeting him with a wave. Astarion looked relieved, immensely so. He doesn’t give Halsin a chance to speak.

“Gods above, if only you hadn’t left in the first place. There was an attack, loads of injured flooded this place. Chessa was here,” the mention of the name shocked Halsin. His expression shifted to one of sorrow. “We didn’t have enough to take care of them all, but worst of all Chessa nearly died because we completely ran out of supplies.” Recounting the night filled Astarion with renewed anger. Remembering how close he was to losing someone so special to him, all because Halsin wasn’t here.

“She saved Chessa but. Honestly, if she wasn’t here, this whole mess wouldn’t have happened,” of course he couldn’t help but blame you again. You’ve had enough. His words caused you to laugh a bitter, furious laugh. Your weakened body stood up abruptly.

“Astarion, would it kill you to utter a thank you? An ounce of gratitude? I understand that I’ve put pressure on this place but do you really expect Halsin to never have the urge to journey? Ever? You’re lucky I was here and you’re too stuck up to admit it. I’m tired of your constant whining. Life isn’t butterflies and rainbows,” you took a breath. “But fucking hells, it isn’t all flaming shit bombs either. So do us both a favor and take your head out of your ass for once.”

You’re met with widened eyes and silence. Everyone is looking at each other, waiting for someone to say something. You crossed your arms and sat back down. Even more shocking than your outburst against Astarion, he is not angry. He has this look of pride now. Maybe even respect.

“You’re right. I should’ve said thank you. Without you being here, I would’ve lost someone I promised to protect. Worse yet, I didn’t protect her. You did. It pains me to admit that,” Astarion’s eyes didn’t meet yours, they’re looking down in shame. It’s refreshing. You’re upset that it took this much pulling to reveal some semblance of emotion besides sarcasm. Overall, however, you’re appreciative that he was capable of thanking you after all.

Halsin also wears an expression of pride. For both you and Astarion. He isn’t happy with how much Astarion had seemed to become so sour as of late. He’s glad at the very least he is making progress towards the person Halsin knows Astarion really is. You haven’t witnessed those moments as much as Halsin has. The main reason he agreed to run this system was entirely due to those moments where the potential to be so much more were shown. He gestured up towards the stairs while looking at you. Relieved you’d get to get away from Astarion for the moment, you quickly hopped off the stool. Both you and Halsin went upstairs.

Silently Halsin emptied his pack and organized some things Astarion threw around. He put a book from his pack and opened to a bookmarked page as you decided to sit on the stone bed again. It felt odd, considering Chessa was laying here dying not too long ago. Pushing those discomforting thoughts out of your head, you focused on the book Halsin was reading through.

“So, this book speaks of an alchemical mixture that can be made to dispel influences from beings who reside in unseen planes. It’s an experimental theory. The reason most restoration and healing spells don’t work is because you have an unknown attachment with an otherworldly entity that drains you. It’s not like a pact, but maybe the result of magic gone wrong,” Halsin explained to you. This didn’t feel accurate but it could be. Maybe you did have something preying off you. It was definitely worth a shot at least.

“I must warn you, the effects of this potion could be anything. After studying the ingredients and structure it shouldn’t cause you immense harm. Though some of them do have potential side effects that might have consequences…knowing that, do you still want me to make it?” Halsin inquired. At this point, you were ready to accept whatever would come your way.

“Yes, I’m okay with it,” you responded. Halsin gave you a smile.

“Alright, it will take most of the day to create. You will take it tomorrow after you rise so I can monitor its effects,” he said. You nodded and slid off the stone bed. This unfortunately meant that you would have to go back to Astarion. Holding back a groan, you returned to the counter, not speaking. Much to your dismay, it seemed Astarion couldn’t stop looking at you. You’re not sure why, but you figured he’s making sure you’re not doing something to spite him. To be fair you didn’t really have the energy to.

The first good thing to happen to you today was your regular patron’s arrival. You discovered his name was Dirk. That was really all you knew about him. Greeting him with an eager wave and a smile, he did the same to you. Saying your name he approached you at the counter.

“Are you faring well? You look tired,” he commented, examining you. He was purely sympathetic, always polite. You thought maybe you’d had a little crush on him if it weren’t for the fact you only saw him weekly and barely spoke to him.

“Oh you know, just the usual,” you tried, shrugging the concern away. He gave you a look that seemed to say he knew there was more than what you spoke. He didn’t pry further. Only smiled and continued into the library area. Skimming over the rows of books, he seemed to pick something with little reasoning. Settling into his regular chair and starting to read, the atmosphere returned to silent and solemn.

Astarion fidgeted, not seeming to be able to stand still. His eyes continued to go towards Dirk, bearing some unreasonable anger. If it weren’t for the fact you knew Astarion was capable of looking neutral, you’d swear he had a resting bitch face. Not wanting to incur any wrath, you began your usual task of sorting and stamping books. Your mind was mostly focused on this experimental brew Halsin was making. You’d try to sense your surroundings, tap into the beyond, in a poor attempt to feel if there was something tethered to you. Nothing out of the ordinary was felt. Of course, if this thing had been here for a good long time you probably wouldn’t be able to tell what ordinary should be. The healers at the grove would be more likely capable of that. This thought is what sewed doubts into your mind. Wouldn’t adept magic users be able to tell if there was something at work? Unless maybe it was so faint not even a trained mind could spot it.

Audibly sighing, you’d caught the attention of Dirk. He called your name and motioned you over, which was a bit surprising to you. Astarion eyed you both darkly. You shrugged and made your way over, opting to sit across from him.

“Tell me, what has your mood so sour today? You’re normally quite radiant,” he complimented you slyly. Radiant didn’t feel like the word you would use to describe yourself most of the time. More like, quiet. Neutral. Disregarding your thoughts that demanded to depreciate you, you responded.

“I’m a bit apprehensive, I’m,” you paused, knowing you couldn’t reveal any details about the clinic. If you had forgotten, your colleague’s distant glaring would remind you. “Starting something new soon, and I’m worried it won’t go well.” You hoped he wouldn’t pick up your intentional vagueness.

“Ah, new things are always intimidating. But I’m sure whatever it is you’ll do just fine,” he assured you, then leaned forward suddenly. He put a hand on the side of his face, as if to tell a secret.

“Between you and me you could probably use some time away from that sour sport over there,” he joked with you in a hushed tone. You both shared a laugh, earning a crinkled nose and annoyed face from said sour sport. Dirk leaned back and returned to reading, saying nothing else. You took your leave from him, feeling glad you had some positive company for once.

About a few hours later, Dirk left. It was silent and you didn’t have much to do at this point. This wasn’t the busiest establishment, the main source of profit was the rare adventurer coming for scrolls. Those big sparse purchases were all that kept it afloat. Many people donating unwanted books also gave it life. You’d wondered how so many people had so many to give away, and how the shelves hadn't overflowed yet. Deciding you’d make this dawn a wash day, you stayed up quite late. Astarion, seemingly sensing the rise of the sun, locked the doors. Without any farewell, he ventured down to the cellar. You figured it’s probably for the best for now.

Grabbing some fresh clothes from your stash in an unused cupboard, you unlocked the back door and carefully made your way to the spring. The sun turned the sky a purple orange. This was a task that was a bit draining, but made worth it by the beautiful sunrise that would reflect on the water. The air was a bit too cool for soaking but it was the only choice you had at the moment. If it was possible to be up in the afternoon, when the air was most warm, that would be the ideal choice.

Disrobing and scrubbing your body with soap that was wearing thin, you’d rushed through cleaning. As you suspected, it was much too cold. After rinsing through your hair, you quickly ran out. You dried off the water and wrung out your hair, dressing back up quickly. Though you were quick to bathe, you wanted to remain here for a bit. Shivering, you sat on a rock and watched the sun. For once your mind was oddly quiet. The sound of the rushing spring water filling you with peace. You’ve missed being outside more. There wasn’t much need to be outside with your current situation. If you ever find your cure, you wondered if you find something to do where you could work outside.

Feeling your fatigue creep up, since the sun is risen and your bed time has long passed, you finally made your way back to the bookstore. Opening the back door and scanning the area for a sense of danger, you concluded no one blew the place up while you were away. You carefully locked the door behind you, and descended into the dark cellar. You tiptoed towards your couch. As you slipped off your boots you were thankful to sink into the semi soft cushions.

All you could hear was the sound of Astarion’s soft breathing in the distance. You were ashamed that it soothed you to sleep.

-

Despite your late bedtime, you ended up waking before Astarion. You figured your anxious thoughts about what the brew would do made you face insomnia. You shoved your shoes back on, feeling like it wasn’t long ago you put them off. Then before you could venture forward, you hear stirring. It was bound to happen at some point, waking at the same time. You felt frozen though, not sure what the best reaction would be. Rushing out felt rude, but staying there felt awkward. Nonetheless you opted for something probably even more awkward, which was slowly walking into view.

He was sitting up, hands planted behind him. You figured he could see you far better than you could see him. Expecting scorn, you're shocked to hear a small chuckle come from him. He stood up and lit some of the candles surrounding you both. You realized he was shirtless, but thankfully wearing pants. There was something slightly different about his attitude at the moment. As if it took time for the sarcasm to settle in to his personality. He walked towards you, and stood close. You blinked a few times, trying to assess what was happening. The smug look on his face as he eyed you up and down made your cheeks heat up.

“You’re standing in front of my dresser darling,” he softly spoke, finding your nerves to be amusing. You closed your eyes and made an embarrassed face. You in fact, decided to be frozen in place, in front of where he needed to be.

“Right,” you simple spoke, fearing anything more would reveal a shaking voice. Swiftly, you walked past him and crawled up the ladder. The silver lining in this was you had forgotten about the uncertainty and anxiety surrounding the brew Halsin has for you. But now you have to face it.

You ascended the stairs, finding Halsin sitting and writing notes. There is a steaming bowl of some sort of soup waiting for you. You sat on the stool.

“This for me?” You inquired, wanting to confirm before you went about eating it.

Halsin nodded in response, engrossed in his current task. You took a spoonful and cooled it down with long breaths. As you ate you observed what he was doing. He would switch between scribbling notes and measuring out small portions of a powdery substance. By the time you had finished your bowl, he had poured the powders into a bottle. He stirred the mixture together, then whispered some incantations. You don’t know how long he was doing this, how much preparation it took. Although his reaction was positive, when it briefly glowed purple. You gathered this must’ve been the finishing touch.

“Here, go ahead and sit, in case you need to lie down after,” he insisted, standing up with the bottle in hand. You obliged, feeling that nervous feeling coming back again. There’s no telling just what this will do. Your trust in Halsin is strong, you don’t expect he would do shoddy work. However, even if he did his absolute best, this could still be somewhat dangerous.

“If it doesn’t taste well, I can get you something to eat or drink alongside it,” he offered you. You nodded. He handed you the bottle. You stared into it, stalling. You noticed small specks of substance suspended in the liquid. A small whiff told you that there was a smell of fur and alcohol. Whether or not those were in the contents didn’t really matter. You knew smell didn’t equal taste but it could at least set the scene and buy you time before the first swig. Halsin watched you patiently. You sighed.

“Down the hatch.”

You swung the bottle back, taking as much of the contents in each swallow as possible. It wasn’t until the second swallow the taste became apparent. The best you could think of to describe it was a leathery dirt. Tasty was the last word you would use, but it wasn’t unbearable. As the last of the contents entered your belly, you gagged. Halsin grabbed the bottle and quickly replaced it with a cup of water. You graciously drank it, wanting the thick gross taste to be washed away. The both of you stood, waiting for something to happen. At first, there was nothing at all.

Then, your vision went in and out of focus. Your bones felt heavy, everything… heavy. Every thought that crossed your mind went through slowly. Like each word was a complicated problem to solve. Your body swayed slightly. Halsin placed his hands on your sides and slowly helped you lay on the stone bed. His face is filled with a disappointment and sadness that made you wish you could’ve pretended it worked. You stared up at the ceiling and watched it spin. It wasn’t nauseating, surprisingly. It was more of a sedative effect. Time was nonexistent. You heard Halsin move around, you know he gave you water to drink, but that all seemed to happen in a matter of seconds.

When you became slightly more aware, your eyes drunkenly followed the sound of a second person entering the room. Astarion. You try to decipher what he looks like, if he’s upset or angry. Though he has three bodies right now and they’re all moving across your vision. Instead you closed your eyes.

“No luck?” You heard him ask. His voice sounded far away.

“No, the magic didn’t do anything. It seems the ingredients that were mixed created more of a potent intoxicating or sedating effect,” Halsin explained. Despite your mind feeling very far away, his upset mood was palpable.

There was no response from Astarion.

“Well, didn’t play hooky too long, you’re going to have a lot of books to sort,” he eventually said. You’d assume he was just that sadistic to toy with you, but it was clear he was joking around. A small strangled laugh comes from you. It didn’t feel like you laughed, but your hearing says you did.

All you could manage to do now, was fall asleep

Chapter Text

It took you only a couple days to return to normal. When you woke up, feeling actually coherent for once, Halsin was simply doing what he was always doing. You wondered if any patients came by while you were in this state, and hoped it hadn’t caused too much trouble. You sat up slowly, glad that your balance is okay.

“Ah, you’re feeling better?” He inquired with a big smile.

“Yes, enough to be able to move,” you responded. You stretched out, feeling reasonably stiff from being still in bed for so long.

You were handed water and you were glad to drink, realizing just how dry your throat was. It seemed your body picked a good time, since the sun was down. This was everyone’s normal schedule after all. You heard creaking on the stairs and felt mixed at Astarion’s entering the room.

“She’s awake?” He asked Halsin. You thought it ironic, since you’re right there. It was also strange just how… excited he sounded.

“Yes, just now,” Halsin replied.

Astarion looked pleased, giving you a smile you weren’t expecting.

“Welcome back, thought you were going to die there for a bit. Be sure to come down when you can,” he said to you, before returning back downstairs. You furrowed your brows in confusion. Maybe you were still asleep, or drugged. Him being nice? That felt like a surprise you weren’t ready for.

“That seemed unusual,” you couldn’t help but muse out loud. Halsin chuckled.

“You know, Astarion isn’t as terrible as he has been as of late. He has a rather soft spot,” Halsin stated. You felt even more confused.

“Then why is he so mean to me?” You asked.

“Well,” Halsin paused. “I can’t say for certain but. He’s afraid. Getting close to people hasn’t always had the best results for him. He has a long past filled with bad memories. I suspect he’s afraid to like you, but probably already does.”

You’re not sure you agree that Astarion could have any positive feelings towards you, but Halsin knows him better than you. You feel an unfamiliar stirring in your chest. Perhaps lasting effects of the potion. Instead you focused on the fact that you do feel bad for Astarion. It’s hard to be used to disappointment. You know the feeling that life gives you. When things keep failing you. Like how this new potion failed you. That is something you hadn’t thought about quite yet. It anchors you into that pool of grief you keep falling back to.

“I understand. But I hope sooner than later he learns that trying to take your pain out on others doesn’t make your own go away,” you said plainly. Part of you hoped that maybe Astarion could hear it from downstairs. The new information gave you some insight on the looks he gave you. It was the mask falling. The facade cracking. The earnest and genuine person who is so afraid of showing himself. Underneath the hard bristling personality is someone raw. You didn’t know the extent of what broke him, what made him this way, but you can imagine it was probably rough.

“Halsin, who is the clinic for?” You tried, wanting to finally get that answer. He sighed in response, sitting himself at his alchemy table.

“I would tell you, but it’s not my secret to tell.”

Of course. Brooding sarcastic man who won’t even tell you good morning is the one you’re going to have to ask. Halsin gives you a signature smile that you waved away playfully. It seemed your best option was to face whatever mess of books awaited you downstairs. This would be easier, knowing that at least your “boss” might not actually hate you. Within moments of the counter entering your view, the pile made you wince. It was not quite as bad when you first came, but it was definitely a pain to look at. Astarion was sitting on a stool, one that hadn’t been there before. Yours remained in its spot, surrounded by unsorted books. With tentative movements, you pushed some of the books out of the way, and plopped a pile on the counter. He doesn’t look at you, just keeps his eyes trained on his book.

When you began stamping the books in your pile, you noticed Astarion pull a key out of his pocket. He looked at you and slid it over across the counter towards you.

“You might need to stay later to catch up, so you might need the key. If you want to start getting up in the mornings you can too,” he remarked. There was a softness to his tone. You suspected that raw interior was showing.

“Thank you, for trusting me,” you offered, sliding the key further towards you, then putting it in your own pocket.

The two of you sit together in silence. For once, it’s comfortable. You wondered if you’d ever see him if you started trying to get up in the morning. That was never your strong suit. Sleeping was a weird inconsistent thing. You’d also wondered why you had never seen Astarion around when the sun was up. He must’ve had a very strict schedule. Even Halsin managed to be around at various hours. It was also weird that you had never seen him eat. Ever. All those times you managed to wake up at the same time, go to bed at the same time, never one bite. It wasn’t something you felt like you could ask questions about. Regardless, it would now be stuck in your mind.

“Who is the clinic for?” You blurted, feeling stupid afterwards. You gave Astarion a fearful look. You’re trying to express that you don’t want to start anything. It’s just curiosity.

He clenched his jaw, feeling mixed emotions. There was obviously trust between the two of you, something that wasn’t quite friendship but not disdain. To ask a question like that, is to open a can of worms that would take a lot of revealed secrets to explain. Secrets that would mean being vulnerable. Vulnerability was not a feature he was known for. Instead he is known for sarcasm, theatrics, and general moodiness. He didn’t lash out. Instead, he gave a curt answer.

“That’s not up for discussion at the moment.”

You nodded, this was exactly what you could’ve predicted in a response. It would’ve been a miracle if he had told you. For some reason, you didn’t stop though.

“It’s nothing… bad right? Like, illegal?” You inquired, giving another look that was probably similar to a puppy. It was endearing. You were stepping on soft spots that would normally trigger harsher responses.

“Not really, no, depends on who you might ask,” he didn’t elaborate. This gave you more questions than answers. Your growing confusion seemed to entertain him, as a small smile appeared on his face. You were glad he could banter, despite the obvious sensitivity of the topic. The earned trust granted you that. He knew your intentions were not bad, that you weren’t prying for information to take back to hunters. Returning back to peaceful silence, your wild mind ran through all the possibilities you could think of.

(this side of paradise, coyote theory)
A few patrons came in and purchased books, which made you thankful. It would free up some space on the shelves. Unfortunately the space quieted as the night went on. There were still quite a few books to sort, but you were a bit saddened you’d have nothing to entertain you. By the sounds of Astarion’s intermittent sighs and shifting, it was certain he was feeling boredom creep up too. Your presence was welcome to him at this moment.

“How did you enjoy the books?” he suddenly asked, looking at you. You chuckled, considering you’d finished them quite some time ago. You still hadn’t had the chance to get something else to read, with all the commotion that had happened. The question is tender, you soften at how gentle it sounded.

“They were good, I wanted to get more,” you noted to him. He looked away, mulling over your words. He would’ve gotten more for you, had you asked. Even with the amount of spats and arguments between you. It was all surface level. There was never any true ill intent or hatred harbored inside of him. It was only intense frustration. Fear. He wasn’t that great at being a good person. That was something he was out of practice with.

“What was the story about? I didn’t really look,” he returned his glance at you, and offered you a smile. You’d always noticed that Astarion would read non fiction books. This probably explained his sorting of the books in the shop. When you’re not reading stories, searching for books by topic is more important than the author. If you’re looking for stories and series, you’d be better off searching by author.

“It was about a mad wizard named Ivan, who discovered time travel. He intended to go back in time to every war, every bad event in history and reverse it,” you began explaining, his eyes never leaving your face. You felt a bit nervous under his watchful gaze, but focused on the story. “He went from most recent to least recent, wanting to make one last trip into the future. To examine his utopia he created. Once all the ‘mistakes’ were reversed. But of course, when arrived in the future, it wasn’t the perfect world he was expecting. Because why would it be right?” You prompted, with Astarion entertaining you and responding “right” in a brief but amused tone.

“For every mistake he undid, another would unfold just years or less after. It was within the nature of people, to always create problems. There was no way to prevent every bad possibility. The gods demanded that he returned the past to its original form, because multiple timelines were overlapping. So he had to go back through the past, being the bringer of destruction and disease. His punishment for trying to be all powerful, or something like that,” you trailed off. You had been talking for longer than you expected about it. There was a wonderful look of appreciation and admiration on Astarion’s face. Something about the way you talked, explained the story with theatrical hand movements. You had forgotten how closely he was watching you, lost yourself in the story. That’s what you liked about fiction. What most people liked about it really. The ability to become part of something besides your reality. Escaping into someone else’s problems that will eventually solve themselves. And if they didn’t solve themselves, it didn’t matter. You could close the book, burn it, make it like it never existed at all. Words on a page filled with so much power but at the same time, no power at all. You are the proverbial god over the world inside that book, even if you didn’t create it.

“That sounds utterly depressing, how do you enjoy reading that?” He teased you, breaking you away from your thoughts. Unlike his previous teasing, it’s become a bit more lighthearted. You laughed in response, making his smile grow a bit bigger. You can see his fangs. It wasn’t often they showed, you figured that was something special. You were unsure why he would want to hide them, they looked beautiful. Not in an attractive way, but just. Like hauntingly beautiful marble statues, carved so carefully each detail is obvious. His fangs were sharped, carved. Unnaturally so. It was fascinating.

He noticed your eyes on his mouth, and he couldn’t help but close his lips shut in reflex. You see the insecurity wash over him, and you’re quick to attempt to remedy it. Your next words will humble you, but for some reason you felt it was worth it.

“Your teeth are nice. Unnatural, but. I like them. They’re very bright and sharp,” you complimented, not keeping eye contact with him. You supposed it might be a bit of an odd compliment. Trying to keep your self esteem from reaching rock bottom, you tell yourself it’s something an artist's mind would notice. With the silence that ensued, you couldn’t help but sneak a glance at him. His face looked confused, but with a slight shade of pink gracing his cheeks. “You just seemed like you didn’t like showing them, but you should.”

He laughed and shook his head in response.

“You’re either very daft or very strange, but I appreciate it nonetheless,” he returned. You nodded, as if to say “yes you should appreciate it.” The silence returned, as another patron came to browse the store.

The next few hours were uneventful. Only to be interrupted by Astarion standing suddenly. He looked a bit more pale than normal, darkness under his eyes. You gave him a worried look, he simply waved you off.

“I need to go, get some supplies,” he spoke quickly. After nearly tearing out of the store into the night, you felt that this might’ve been the most odd thing he has done. You simply just had to wait until he got back, considering you had the key.

(Zombie, cranberries….heh)
He came back after a few hours. The dawn was starting to approach and you knew he would have to be back before then. His strict schedule and all. He appeared more collected than before, standing taller and refined. The only detail that was out of place was the small line of blood, stained from the corner of his mouth and down his chin. You tilted your head in curiosity. It started to feel like there was definitely…something off. You had tried to write off most of the oddities surrounding Astarion but now this was just the cherry on top.

“Astarion,” you said and pointed to your own lip and chin. He looked confused, then wiped his face. Once he looked down and saw the red dried crust he had gathered, he looked nervous. Then a small laugh.

“Ah, I bit my lip, fangs you know,” he lied through his teeth. You didn’t fully believe him. The situation was odd enough as it is. Regardless, you didn’t feel like pressing. You locked the doors and closed the shop, and you both silently headed to bed.

Chapter Text

You’ve only changed your schedule slightly, but even the slight change has made it hard to get time around Astarion. Halsin you have to see each day, which is where you get the bulk of your socialization these days. It’s not made you drift from Astarion, but it’s hard to get any closer or friendlier when he keeps even worse hours than you do. After the first potion was a failure, Halsin told you he was going to make an improvised second version. Vowing to test it on himself first, which you insisted wasn’t necessary. You weren’t able to convince him.

That nagging feeling that something was off about Astarion, didn’t leave you. Each day and night that passed, the more you were sure you hadn’t seen him eat. If you had seen him more often you would’ve even offered him some food just to see if he would take it. Alas, you hadn’t ever seen him when you had food ready to be offered. Halsin likes to make sure you finish your plate anyway. You decided to hatch a plan to get more information, albeit in a sneaky way. It wasn’t something you knew how to ask about. If it’s simply the fact he hates eating in front of people, asking if he’s a vampire or some other type of creature, might come off offensive. You don’t want to ruin what headway you’ve made with him.

So one night, when Astarion ascended, you made off quickly to go to “sleep.” Not noticing anything abnormal about your behavior, you were able to make your way into the cellar without any trouble. Of course you were, you realized. Why would Astarion suddenly think you had nefarious ideas before bed? A guilt creeped up on you. This certainly wouldn’t be something that he would appreciate. You promised yourself you wouldn’t disrupt anything precious. You’d simply open unopened chests and drawers, looking and not rifling. It couldn’t be of that much harm as long as everything remained as it should.

With your self soothing done, you tentatively began your search. Wanting to be like a ghost, you started with things that didn’t require any touch. Looking under his bed, it was dreadfully clean besides cobwebs. You’d glanced through cabinets but found nothing. When you opened the small chest that was tucked inside an armoire, you’d hit the jackpot. Well, it didn’t feel like a jackpot once you examined the contents. There were various bottles and vials, it seemed whatever Astarion could find that would hold liquid. The chest smelled deeply of iron, like blood. You’d smelled metal before and you’d smelled blood before. Although they’re strikingly similar, there’s a difference. Metal is a soft, welcome smell. Blood is intoxicating. A smell that doesn’t go away. It invades you. Thoughts of bodies that you had come across, freshly killed, a sign you were lucky you hadn’t been there only moments sooner. When you uncorked one of the bottles, against all self preservation. The smell was not as sickly as you anticipated. A hint of spice. You surveyed the liquid as it moved. It was thick like sludge. With a groan you corked the bottle and returned everything in its place. There could be no mistaking this. When you slid into the couch, you closed your eyes tightly.

How does this change things? It doesn’t. You decided that very early in your thought process. That was the only easy thing to choose. Everything else was a gray area. How would you bring this up? Does Halsin know? It all suddenly clicked very fast. You felt very stupid. The fangs, the odd hours, never eating with you. How lonely he must be. To live an eternity, to be hiding from the sun at all times. Never even being given the privilege of a sunrise or sunset. His nature compelled him to be alone. Bringing someone close means knowing you have to accept when they’re gone. Knowing that when your lover is all but bones, you will live on. Burning tears entered your eyes. With every shred of bitterness you held for your condition, at least there was an end. For him, he would have to end himself or someone would have to end him. That is the only escape. Horrified by the notion, you couldn’t sleep.

You picked up a book that had been lying around. It was about the various types of plants one might find in the sword coast. Engrossing yourself in it, pretending it was your sole duty to memorize each genus and species, the time passed quickly. When the hatch opened, you sat up quickly. Astarion eyed you with surprise once he saw you sitting and not sleeping.

(It’s Alright, Mother mother)
You stood up and approached him. He shifted his gaze downwards as you got closer. If you had been paying closer attention you might’ve noticed the attraction in his eyes. You were too focused on your goal. He had thought you might’ve had something else on your mind. A kiss, or maybe more. Astarion wasn’t so sure about anything with you yet, but if you had approached him for something, he might’ve obliged you.

“Are you a vampire?” You asked, staring at him and his eyes. They were red, you had learned. When you first saw him you weren’t sure. You became sure. Getting lost in the deep wine color, wondering how in the world they got that way. Knowing the answer now. You made sure to look unafraid, unapologetic, unwavering. You already know the correct answer to this question. The challenge is not whether or not he is a vampire, but whether he will admit it to you. If he trusted you enough to let the mask drop. Even if just for this moment.

His eyes desperately searched you, fear etched into his features. This moment felt like a glass ball coated in oil. Any wrong moment sends the ball to its shattering death. Exploding painful shards. Despite your belief that this relationship was one sided, Astarion too wanted to keep things good. He wanted to be in your good graces, for reasons he couldn’t fathom. Most things have always started as a transaction. To put it plainly, you had nothing to offer him. At least, no safety, no money, no power. You were you. An earnest soul trying to survive. He noticed the slight reddening around your irises. Ironic, the red is in his, outside on yours. A gentle sigh escaped him.

“I see you’re not as daft as you appear,” he quipped. He’s trying to keep the mood light. You don’t give in. This is not a moment meant for jokes. This is a moment to face the secrets he’d hidden away. And you gathered, that not in some time, had he been able to express his sorrow surrounding his condition.

“Astarion, I’m not angry with you,” you started, stepping closer to him. He instinctively took two steps back.

Despite his defensive nature, his expression appears.. grieved.

“Astarion,” you repeated. You’re practically singing it, a soft plea for him to open up. To stop seeing things as a game where someone wins. Where someone has to come out on top. This isn’t a game. These are two people who have been hurt, broken, and betrayed. “I’m not angry. I am sad for you. That you had to hide this. But I’m not going to hurt you.”

His whole body tensed up, this is familiar. He had been in a situation with someone like this before. Yet it’s still surprising. The memories of Tav are bittersweet. When your arms found their way around his waist, he softened. Melted. It had been a long time since his last hug. Touch was not something he received often. He’s not sure what he wants from you, but at the very least he is comforted to know you don’t care what he is. It’s a gamble he has to make every time anyone gets to know him. Most of the time he doesn’t bother getting anyone’s name. The energy it takes to dedicate yourself to the task of pretending…

You pulled away, a charming smile on your face. This is all you wanted. To ease some of the burden. You can’t really use your spells much, but you know that healing isn’t always potions and incantations. Sometimes it’s a shared burden. Words that express comfort. Another soul that’s with you. You had no other prerogative. This would definitely affect the e feelings you had for him, but it would take some time before you pondered on that. It was enough to be able to make him feel even just a little bit better.

He says your name softly.

“I apologize, it’s not always easy,” he murmured, not keeping your gaze. You nodded in response, not holding anything against him. You’d tell him not to apologize, but you know sometimes “sorry” is more for the person saying it.

“Now get some sleep you maniac,” he teased, ruffling your hair as if you were a child. You feigned offense, quickly fixing the damage. With some awkwardness, you do depart to go to sleep. In that, you decide you want to be awake when he is. There’s nothing the sun has for you that isn’t worth giving up, even if it’s only mild comfort you can offer.

Next dusk, when you’re eating and doing your usual healing with Halsin, you decide you want to try to extend your helpfulness.

“Do you think I could make some of the healing potions? Just the basic ones?” You offered, staring down at your hands. You’re not sure why you felt shy about it. Halsin looked surprised at the offer. He saw the best in people, expected the least. Not to be rude, but he had pretty low standards.

“Quite the generous offer, it seems you were taught well,” he complimented you. Not used to being praised, you flushed. “I suppose there’s no harm. But don’t work yourself too hard.” You hummed an “mhm” in response.

“I’ll make a few with you before going downstairs,” you decided out loud. There was no protest and you began handling the ingredients as you remembered. It was hard to forget, since you’d also watched Halsin many times as of late. He observed you, making sure your movements and measurements were correct. You realized the two of you were standing close, the alchemy table was not very long. At the same time, both you and Halsin turned your heads towards one another. Shoulders nearly brushing together. Instinctively you went to turn the other direction, but Halsin stopped you. He put his hand on your jaw, turning you back towards him. Your eyes became widened, heartbeat racing.

“You know I’m quite fond of you?” He spoke in a low tone. You thought maybe somewhere along the line you hit your head. Or maybe Astarion killed you and this is the afterlife. In just a matter of moments you went over your feelings. Halsin was kind, gentle. There was no denying that, nor any denying how good he looked. You were nervous, but not resisting. It wasn’t like he was taking you on his alchemy table, bottles of potions be damned. The thought created imagery in your head. Imagery that made you turn the brightest shades of red. His smile deepened at your apparent fluster. You’d feel a sense of betrayal towards Astarion, towards feelings you’d buried deep down, but you figured Astarion wasn’t the least bit interested in you romantically. He barely liked you in a friendly manner.

With your thoughts still racing, Halsin drifted towards your lips. As a sign of acceptance you closed your eyes. You’re unsure of where this will lead, what this will mean. Your hand gripped the edge of the alchemy table, as you felt his lips grace yours. It’s very soft, he doesn’t want to overtake you. Just testing the water. Halsin is a fluid lover, maybe his lifespan as an elf affecting him that way. He doesn’t mind where his whims take him, or where his lovers might go. As long as the affection is expressed, the leap is taken, that’s what matters.

He pulled away, as your eyes opened. Confusion was written all over your face. You had so many questions. With his gentle nature continuing, he tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Don’t fret petal, it doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be,” he spoke softly. Feeling guilty at the amount of relief that washed over you, you nodded. It wasn’t that the thought of being with Halsin was a bad one, it was that you’re so unsure of yourself and your future. It’s still not certain whether this clinic will remain your home for the foreseeable future. There was always an idea that you would return home if your illness was cured. Beyond that, what you would do if it wasn’t cured… you hadn’t thought that far. You also didn’t anticipate a relationship with anyone. It was simply a relief you would be given the opportunity to think about everything.

He added the last ingredient to your potion, having remembered where you were. You laughed quietly, thinking the moment definitely threw you in for such a loop, you would not have remembered anything you were doing. A batch was made, making up for the potion you took and then some. After that, it was back to the book shop. Astarion was quiet as usually, reading and looking somber. There was some apprehension inside you, but it was clear from your bouncy walk that you felt happy. He didn’t hear what happened, but he could surmise. Inside he felt mixed feelings. He had no intention of ruining whatever fun you wanted to have, but…

(the music or the misery by fall out boy)
It wasn’t that Astarion didn’t feel for you, or anyone. The last time he had feelings for someone was on his adventure with Tav. Tav didn’t feel the same way. The immense generosity and kindness that they had, Astarion made an effort not to be bitter. It helped that Tav never bed anyone else the entire time. They were full of life and positivity, it used to make him sick. In some ways, it was probably for the best that they never wanted romance. The worry never stopped, but at least it was easier to see them get hurt. Astarion wanted the best for them. To never see that smile fade from their face. He was afraid that if he fell again, history would repeat itself. Unrequited love can be one of the most painful feelings. He had wondered though, if not doing anything at all, would be worse than getting hurt.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” he pressed, pushing your buttons lightly. It was an attempt to assess the situation. You reacted with a shrug, not making eye contact as you stamped books. “Halsin teaching you a lot up there?” You coughed. He masked the slight tugging in his chest by giving you a chuckle.

“This is not up for discussion,” you said, mocking his previous words to you. He feigned offense, by pressing his hand against his chest.

“Oh but I do so love gossip darling,” he teased. This unfortunately felt like an affirmation that he didn’t like you. If he had liked you, wouldn’t he feel negatively towards the situation? Of course, you had know idea he had very negative feelings about the situation. Unable to sense the dread hidden in his act.

“Well, I don’t kiss and tell,” you insisted, raising your chin. He tutted in disappointment, returning to his book. He dropped all mirth whenever you weren’t looking at him. There was certainly a lack of communication happening here. Would Astarion be able to muster the courage to face whatever feelings were inside him? Or would he simply sweep them under the rug like they never existed in the first place?

((([TW START graphic depictions of burn wounds, will notate when TW has passed]))))
His silent brooding and your annoyingly intoxicating positivity were interrupted by a patient coming in. She looked like she had been burned pretty severely. Her skin was raw and exposed. At the worst parts, you could see the white telltale sign that it was deep enough to reach bone. On the brighter side, that meant most of it was pain free. The nerves long gone to whatever burned her. However, on the edges of the wound, where skin was still intact, the pain must’ve been immense. Astarion hopped up and guided her up the stairs, and you decided to follow this time. Whoever was coming in for books could sort themselves out.

She sat, cradling her burnt arm. Halsin immediately started with a cure wounds spell and Astarion fetched a ready healing potion. As the blue light danced around her wound, the skin that was once peeled and charred, restored slowly. The oozing blood and necrotic tissue became soft and new. Her skin now has only one shade of dark brown, besides the dark thin line that would be her scar. The scarring may have been avoided if her journey here was shorter. You couldn’t help but feel slight sorrow at that.

((([TW END])))
“Hunters have gotten angrier as of late,” she remarked, rubbing the spot where the wound was. “I’d tried to let this go, but it was clear it wasn’t going to heal on its own.” Then she must’ve been lucky, or made great time. A wound of that extent is bound to cause infection. If not careful, she could’ve even lost her forearm. You’d kept quiet, not wanting to beat a dead horse.

“Can I take some supplies? We might be able to help save some lives if we have more on hand,” she asked, sitting up.

“Of course, take whatever you need,” Halsin assured her. She smiled and put two of the stronger potions and some ingredients in her pack. It seemed she was in quite a hurry to return back home. Astarion, the girl, and yourself, headed back downstairs. Before fully exiting the building, she spoke to Astarion.

“I’ve got a lover back at my camp, knowing we’ve got people like you who support us, keeps us going. I used to think it would be an eternity of misery. I think you’ve well made up for your mistakes,” she offered. With a fanged grin she left. Another vampire? It made sense, it was easy to assume that’s who the clinic was for. Though, there were a lot of other unanswered questions. What mistake was Astarion meant to be making up for?

He sighed, leaning against the counter.

“Go on, ask away.” He instructed, knowing full well you’d be full of questions. There wasn’t any point in hiding anymore.

“I think, this might be easier if you start by explaining the story of this clinic. How you got here. You might answer all my questions in one go,” you sat on your stool, looking at him. Astarion was not one to give more information than necessary, he was hoping your questions wouldn’t require him to get to the nitty gritty details. However, based on your statement, it was clear you wanted as much as he was willing to give.

“Then, cozy up dear, you’re going to be here awhile.”

A beat of silence, you were already prepared.

“I was turned into a vampire spawn by a full powered vampire named Cazador,” he says the name with so much hatred, your stomach turned. His facial expression was venomous. “That man, was evil incarnate. So full of despicable traits. Not one ounce of purity. Not one ounce of kindness.”

“I was bound to him. Forced to do his bidding. He carved a contract on me. Death wasn’t even an option for escape,” he paused as you shuddered. “Little did I know, besides all the fun never ending torture, he was using me to collect bodies. For a ritual even devils thought was despicable. We assumed that it was for food.”

The next part takes a lot of strength to say out loud for Astarion. It’s admitting his guilt all over again.

“Children. Lovers. Whoever, they ended up at his door. To be sacrificed. They were turned into vampire spawn instead. He intended to use them. Seven thousand of them. Collected over two hundred years. I was his favorite slave. I took the most,” his eyes squeezed shut, fists clenched. “He was going to sacrifice them and all my brothers and sisters to ascend. Become the most powerful vampire.”

“Tav, my friends, all of us. We killed Cazador together. There is a longer story in there. But what you must know. I had a choice that night. I could’ve taken over the ritual. Killed the seven thousand. I felt their lives were already forfeit. It would’ve been easier to erase them than to face my crimes. Tav, beautiful Tav,” he murmured the last part. “He knew I was better. He helped me. I let them all go. When our story was done, my friends and I split ways. I made this place with Halsin. An apology. My best attempt at undoing the wrong. And trying to make life better for the spawn who are cursed to live because of me…”
There was only silence for a while. Astarion thought maybe the thought of him taking all those lives, making so much misery in those two hundred years, was enough to make you hate him forever. When he turned and saw tears in your eyes, his expression dropped. Were you crying because of him? Because of what he had done?

“Astarion,” you croaked. “I’m so sorry, that you had to go through that.” His eyes widened. Yet again, another show of unexpected sympathy. Kindness where he was used to malice.

“To be forced to commit such terrible things, being nothing but a puppet, I can’t imagine, you must’ve lost yourself to cope,” you spoke quickly, feeling panic bubble up inside you. That feeling of deep empathy as you imagined the pain. How you would just be an audience member behind your own eyes. Watching your own bloodstained hands lead countless people to what might’ve been their death. You’d have to make yourself a villian just to pretend you didn’t lose the chance to be a good person. The layers that made Astarion seemed thick and riddled with pain. Unfolding every aspect of him was like opening Pandora's box. It was worth it. Your discomfort at the sheer idea of experiencing what he went through, was only a fraction of the real suffering.

He chucked at you, keeping his own tears at bay. With gentle movements, he wiped the tears from your eyes. You couldn’t help but laugh too.

“Astarion I’m supposed to be comforting you, not the other way around,” you pointed out. He scoffed.

“Nonsense darling, I’ve got plenty of time to be comforted,” he says the pet name in a way you’re not entirely used to. You looked at each other differently. There was such an amount of uncertainty. All you knew was that you wanted to make whatever portion of his life that you were in, as good as possible. You wondered how much he hasn’t experienced. His immortal life span was primarily filled with torture, pain, and loss. Hardly the way you’d think a vampire should live.

“Tell me what you want from life, I want to make it happen for you. Tell me what you’ve missed out on,” you ordered. “I want you to have fun. Real fun, like doing dumb shit. Staying up drinking not because your life could be over soon or because you had some kind of motive, but just for fun!”

He looked pensively at the ceiling. Fun? Hmm. Maybe the two of you could get along after all.

Chapter Text

(Emergency Contact by Pierce The Veil)
Astarion could think of a hundred things to do for fun, but none of them seemed to appeal. You were expecting extravagance but were met with mundane. There wasn’t much that could be done under the cover of darkness. Or there were things that were not quite as fun. With him being less than cooperative with providing ideas of something fun to do, you insisted on a picnic under the stars. You argued that the balcony did not get nearly as much use as it should. You’d witnessed many in the grove spend late nights giggling with wine and bread, pointing out constellations. You were never close enough with anyone there to be a part of it. Maybe this was more your idea of fun that you missed out on than his, but it was a start. You figured you could at least be an inspiration.

You stocked up with fresh food from the Elfsong Tavern, as well as bottles of wine, and set out all the food on a blanket on the balcony. It was more of a patio, quite large with Halsin’s plants taking up most of the space. There was a gap where the food and you three now gathered. You were positively joyful. Camaraderie with friends is exactly what you needed. Halsin and Astarion too. Most of the celebrations they had were bittersweet or had impending doom. Every celebration and win had the looming threat of the elder brain. You had no idea about all of that, you were just happy to look at the sky full of stars.

“I want us to tell stories, fun ones,” you ordered suddenly, pouring everyone a glass of wine. The hope was the alcohol would loosen tongues. It wasn’t as if you’d wanted information, but just catharsis. The release of emotions. But also, nostalgia. You wanted them to think back on things that made them happy. Halsin clinked his glass with yours and Astarion’s.

“I’ll go first,” he said, taking a swig. This wasn’t much of a surprise. Halsin is much more open with himself than the both of you. He looked at the stars for a bit, thinking back on a specific memory. There were all sorts of stories he could tell, but he opted for something simple.

“Back when I was just a young boy, I came across a fawn who was injured severely. She was laying in a pool of her own blood,” he began. The image of a small vulnerable fawn entered your mind, making you frown. “I cradled her in my arms and ran home, knowing someone would be able to help her. Our healer said that she would do what she could, but the fawn would need rest.”

“I waited by her side for days, watching her rest. I was her guard. When she began to walk again, I walked with her. I would bring her food from the forest, and tell her stories that my parents told me. The healer told me that her mother had been killed by a hunter looking for food, she was hit by a stray arrow. So I vowed to be her mother,” he paused, chuckling. We all laughed at the idea of mother Halsin. Nursing a baby deer, teaching her things a deer ought to be teaching her. Your previous frown had transformed into a soft smile. The innocence surrounding the story is enough to make anyone soften.

“Her and I were friends for a long time, I watched her grow into an adult. I taught her as best I could, my teaching so well, that when she was strong and grown, we parted ways,” he said with a bit of sorrow flickering onto his expression. “It was time for her to start a family, begin the cycle anew.”

His smile returned.

“Though I saw her again, with her own fawn, that following spring. And it made everything worth it.”

You clinked your glass against his again as if to say ‘cheers to that.’ Taking swigs there was silence. You knew it was either you or Astarion and Astarion was not going to volunteer. Sighing, you thought about what story you would tell. It dawned on you, you didn’t have a lot of stories to tell. Your childhood was quiet, lonely. Your teen years unreasonably quiet. And when you became an adult your sickness began. Your eyebrows furrowed unconsciously at the thought of those years when no one could find what was wrong. When they thought there truly wasn’t anything wrong. The others eyed you, trying to assess what was bothering you.

“I’m not sure I can think of a story to tell,” you admitted. You felt guilty, seeming as this was your idea. “Can I just make one up?” You tried to remedy the situation. They pondered over your suggestion. Astarion bristled.

“Would it be easier if it wasn’t a happy story?” he asked, all too knowing. You didn’t respond at first, not wanting to give in, this is supposed to be a happy night looking at the stars. You don’t want to ruin it with your sad and quiet past. Though your lack of sound was answer enough for him. He gave you a look that made you shiver.

“Go on, I don’t mind.”

You looked to Halsin, who nodded solemnly.

(Hold On Till May by Pierce the Veil, highly recommend for this portion of the story))
“I never really had friends. Never lovers. I was the picture perfect druid, spending hours alone in nature. Watching the birds and trees. I hadn’t learned to speak to animals, but I wished that I could. They had things easy. Animals don’t do all the complicated things we do. Although, I guess we are animals too, but…” you trailed off. You were not getting to the point. The story you wanted to tell. “Even though I didn’t have friends, even though I was alone for most of my life. There were people I liked. There was a slightly older boy I watched, his name was Lathriel. He was the first to manage a wild shape. A wolf hybrid.”

“I sensed he used it to go be alone, because at night he would run through the woods. I would watch, being perched up in the trees. As silent as the sleeping birds in their nests. He would howl at the moon like there was a deep pain. I’d watch him turn back into himself, walking silently back home. He was popular amongst his peers. I was nothing but a ghost to him. I got the courage to approach him. Because I was young and stupid and I thought that maybe, maybe I could stop being a ghost,” you paused to let the emotions flow through you. You think they’re both looking at you in a sorry manner, but you’re too ashamed to make eye contact with either of them.

“I told him I’d seen him and I wanted to be his friend. He bared his teeth at me, not wanting me to come closer. I’d pleaded with him. I said ‘Please Lathriel, I have no other friends, I mean no harm, just let me sit with you’ instead he responded with anger. His wild shape wasn’t very stable. He lashed out and scratched my arm and chest,” you held up your arm, examining the scars that were almost too faint to see in the moonlight. “The shock of it caused him to turn back, he simply ran home. I climbed back up into the trees, cradling my bleeding arm. If the wound was deeper I could’ve died in those trees. I would’ve been okay with that.” You laughed a little. At the juvenile shame. Though there was a deep sadness surrounding it. Your attempt at breaking out of that shell earned you nothing but pain. It was a lesson that taught you the wrong message. That being kind, that making friends, was a mistake. The only person you could truly trust was yourself.

“I cried myself to sleep in those trees, no one looked for me. But it was okay. I was covered in dried blood, but the wounds scabbed over by themselves. When I returned back to the grove, I visited the healer. She scolded me for spending so much time alone in the woods where it was dangerous. No permanent damage done I guess,” you said, despite being very unsure of those words. The mood was certainly more sour, you drank the rest of your cup. Astarion was thankful though, because he too didn’t feel like he had many good stories to tell. You took that burden off his shoulders. He stood up and leaned against the railing of the balcony, staring up at the stars.

(Neptune by Sleeping At Last)
“One of the first victims I had lured. His name was Sebastian. This was before I’d, fully lost myself. It was a dance of feelings and manipulation. We were supposed to be in love. That was the scene that was set. And I was playing the actor all too well. I’d tried to rebel before,” he paused, taking a drink. “Cazador locked me away for a year. A whole year. With nothing, no one. That was hell. I’m not afraid of Avernus because even a devil would be better company than damp stone walls.” Anger crossed over his expression. You knew Cazador was dead, but in some ways you wish he was alive simply so you’d get the chance to kill him yourself. Evil people like that deserve suffering. That’s the only bad thing about him not being alive. Though you figured if he lived, Astarion would never feel safe.

“So those nights when I laid with Sebastian, tracing the lines on his palm, feelling insufferably vulnerable for something that was supposed to be fake… I stepped closer and closer to his demise. I dragged it on for as long as I could. Unfortunately that made it that much more painful for him and I. I can still remember the sound of his screams for me as he was taken into Cazador’s possession.” Then his story was cut somewhat short, as he finished his own wine glass. You felt bad, it wasn’t supposed to be a sad night. Astarion didn’t mind. As much as reliving the memories he’d rather didn’t exist wasn’t enjoyable, it felt like a confessional booth. Maybe he would be forgiven for his sins.

You stood up next, refilling both of your glasses. When you looked to the stars, you noticed a streak in the sky. An indication of falling stars. You grinned.

“Our bad mood might be changed yet, we’ve got falling stars!” You exclaimed and pointed to the sky, noticing their frequency increasing. Halsin joined you both at the railing. The soft glow of moonlight illuminates all of your expressions. It was a known thing among most cultures around Faerun, that falling stars meant wishes. It was taboo to share wishes. If someone knew what you were wishing for, it would never come true. You tossed the thought aside, let it marinate in the drunkenness that was beginning to cover you.

“Let’s all make wishes for each one we see - see that one - I wish for unlimited gold,” you jokingly wished, giggling at yourself. It was endearing. Astarion was the unlikely second person to wish on the next falling star.

“I wish that I could see my own reflection so I could admire my outrageously handsome face,” he jokingly wished. The grief behind it was obvious, but that was yet another thing we shoved behind the alcohol. That’s what you did when you drank right? You realized you’d never been drunk before. It was invigorating but also tiring. Halsin’s turn next.

“I wish that I had wings that could let me fly anywhere,” he added, holding his glass towards the sky. You all did the same, chuckling at the idea.

You all continued to make silly wishes on the stars, asking for things like luxury, unlimited magic, mansions, dragons, whatever was stupid enough we didn’t mind if it didn’t come true. It wasn’t until there was some semblance of the night turning to dawn, that Astarion’s expression turned. You were reminded that Astarion could not be in the sun. He stumbled slightly, going to rush towards the cellar when you grabbed his arm. He gave you an incredulous look. Did you want him to fry out here?

“One last thing,” you added.

You then raised your middle fingers to the sky, and with a loud enough voice that neighboring people might’ve sent guards to your establishment, you yelled. “FUCK THE SUN!”

The expressions of your friends were shocked, and then a burst of laughter. Halsin shook his head.

“I’m not saying that,” he said.

Astarion stood next to you, giving you a hesitant look, not wanting to give up his composed persona. Then he too shoved his middle fingers towards the violet late sky.

“FUCK! THE! SUN!” He screamed, spit flying out of his mouth, perfectly enraged and unkempt. Mask abandoned for the sake of screaming towards the gods, towards the celestial sun that was both the thing he dreamed to taste again, but the enemy that he hated. But he couldn’t help but laugh at the stupidity. You dragged him back inside, all three of you laughing endlessly.

Chapter Text

You didn’t make any other suggestions to Astarion, not wanting to be the sole driver of the activities. You’d wondered if maybe that night was enough by itself. Quietly you’d hoped it wasn’t. There was a hidden self serving want to experience life yourself. Being hidden in the trees, in the woods, hidden amongst your peers, you’d wanted to feel alive too. But for now you’d revert back to what you knew better than anything. Quiet days, familiar routine. It was comforting at least, to know that there was change in your future. Positive change you hoped.

Halsin had been experimenting with several different variations of the original brew. He insisted he’d try the final product before testing it on you. You’d told him over and over that it wasn’t necessary, but he never listened. You were feeling tired as of late. Bones weighed down by the invisible strings of malaise. Light sometimes fading behind your eyes. The dragging sensation of living. So when the final brew was made, you were hopeful. It was impossible not to bite your lip to hold back your anxiety. You sat with your legs crossed on the stone bed.

“I drank the brew yesterday, felt no effects. So at the very least this shouldn’t harm you,” he assured you as he handed you the bottle. You examined it. It smelled more like fur than the last one, less like alcohol. The particles that were suspended seemed to be absent in this version. Maybe it was watered down. You took a deep breath and a swig. The taste was much better than the last, and much smoother. You felt a warm tingling in your bones. They felt lighter…but only slightly. Like you had taken a nice pleasant nap or had a hearty meal. Standing slowly, you cracked your joints, trying to assess your feelings.

“I don’t think I’m worse off,” you commented, looking at your hands. You examined them as if they would’ve changed. “Maybe slightly better?” Your voice was uncertain.

Halsin thought for a moment.

“Perhaps you need to take it more than once?” He offered. You thought about it yourself, and nodded in agreement. It was a last ditch effort but at least it was something. Keeping hope was difficult at these times. Hope was all you had, all you had to think about. There was a ugly truth hidden behind the weight of your hope. One that you were very purposefully ignoring. To face the idea that your body will forever be half. Half strength, half as good, halfway here and halfway gone. The idea that the remainder of your life that was destined for something greater, is now destined for quiet. The role you had taken as a ghost, now embedded in your constitution. Was it possible that the person you were could have written the health inside of you? Did you somehow manage to poison yourself with your mind full of hateful rhetoric?

Those were the thoughts you ignored. Your body could not hate you as much as you hated it. This was an affliction that was curable. It had to be. You repeated the affirmation silently behind your everyday thoughts. A prayer to whatever god would listen, not just the one you claimed your own. If Silvanus wouldn’t answer, your faith could be swayed. Sometimes you’d even entertain the idea of begging devils for deals that would grant you the life you so desperately wanted. At least you were not so desperate as to overlook the knowledge that whatever life a devil would grant, it would be overridden by the servitude you would owe.

Halsin noticed your endless brooding and granted you a soft kiss to your forehead, as if to try to kiss the pain of your mind away. You smiled but did not soften. If only this could be melted away. Would Halsin still want for you if you were a problem that could not be solved? Creaking of the stairs made your gaze shift away. Astarion stood and examined the proximity between you and Halsin. You swore you could see something twitch on his face. But he stood still nonetheless.

“Some kid dropped books off, parent passed away and they don’t want them, can you sort them?” He asked with not much emotion in his tone. The idea made you a bit sad, books being discarded after someone’s death. But you assured yourself someone would love those books again. You moved to leave but Halsin stopped you.

“Stay hopeful for me, okay?” He tried to reassure you.

“Always am,” you responded with a half smile. You weren't being sarcastic.

(Lovely by Lauren Babic, Seraphim)
With that you successfully headed downstairs and began sorting the books as requested of you. Astarion seemed to be in a bad mood. He was fiddling with some locked box. Every time he broke a lock pick he cursed and slammed the counter. He was normally more composed and quiet with his anger. Something’s got him a twist. You’d thought about asking him about it but decided not to. Instead he began being his previous sarcastic self with you.

“You really think Halsin’s watered down brews are gonna make a difference?” He sarcastically spoke, taking out a new lock pick and fiddling with his project. Your eyebrows furrowed and your expression spelled out hurt. He glanced at you but couldn’t keep eye contact with the way you looked. It was easier to be a sarcastic asshole towards you when he didn’t care much about you. Now he did. The pain was deeper.

You looked down at the old tattered book in your hands.

“Maybe, I hope so,” you spoke in a voice that was much quieter than you were used to as of late.

He scoffed at you.

“Hope doesn’t do anything,” he retorted. “Hope is just a way to get yourself hurt. A way to keep a wound open.”

This isn’t about you is it? Or maybe it is. You’re not sure.

“Well hope is all I have.”

“Then you don’t have anything do you?”

Your eyes watered and burned, you turned to him, feeling angry, sad.

“Facing the truth means facing the sheer unfathomable grief that comes with knowing I’ll never be whole again. Never be a person. Never exist freely. And maybe you don’t have any hope left, but I do,” you were being spiteful again. You sighed. He looked at you, that deep understanding again. You shared each other’s gaze. Something was there, beyond the bickering and bitter words. Beyond the wishes on stars and sharing a cellar but not a bed. Something you were afraid to touch because it was so raw, so volatile, it could explode and ruin everything. But it was powerful, it tugged at your chest. Made your heart stop and your stomach full with butterflies. All of this from just a stare, a stare of sorry. A stare of shared grief, a stare between two people who have lost and suffered. Maybe not the same amount but the same nature. It felt like there was something pulling you two together, but so much fear, anxiety, confusion, made you resist. The moment of words was gone.

You two looked away from each other. Just like your worried thoughts about your condition, it was something that was meant to be ignored. There was nothing else that the two of you said, but there was an understanding gained. There was a dam, but there is now a crack.

-
You headed out to the spring early in the morning, as you did pretty regularly. To your surprise, Halsin was there. Luckily for your blush, he had pants on. Just briefs it seemed. He was wringing out his clothes. The unfortunate fact was that you couldn’t fully undress until he left. At least though you would be safe with him around. You’d always feared a thief or someone unruly would mess with you while you were out here.

He smiled widely when you came. You noticed how ripped he was and it made you slightly embarrassed of your short and rounder body. There was no way you were even getting into your under clothes around him. You’d simply have to wait until he left or make him look away. That thought seemed juvenile though. He would definitely laugh at you if you asked him that. You instead set your stuff down and opted for washing some of your dirty clothes. If he stayed the entire time you washed…

(City of Angels, by 24kgolden)
“The water is really warm, you should swim,” he told you. After wringing his clothes he stood with his ankles in the shallow shore water. He looked at peace, watching the early morning sky. At his serendipitous expression, all notions of him doing this on purpose went away. Halsin was definitely the type to want to catch the sunrise himself. His confidence was almost intimidating. It took you a few moments to utter a response.

“Yeah I’m not really as confident as you are,” you said, focusing back on rinsing your clothes.

He eyed you, seeing how you shied away from his gaze. He crouched so he would be level with you kneeling by the waterfront.

“What makes you say that petal?” He asked. You could feel him staring at you. You blushed at the close examination.

“I’m not exactly…” you struggled to find words. You didn’t want to say the quiet part out loud. People were always adamant to refute self insults, and you weren’t trying to fish for compliments. “Not…athletic.” You settled on that.

His eyebrows knitted together as if you said something ridiculous.

“What does that have to do with anything? You can still enjoy the water,” he said.

You gritted your teeth in mild frustration. You couldn’t tell if he was being intentionally obtuse or if he truly couldn’t pick up the message you were putting down.

“My body is softer than others,” you tried, skirting around the real message. That you were fat. People who didn’t like that made sure you were told that at every opportunity. (A/N if you are not fat you can skim over some of these details, if you have body positivity issues feel it fits here too, but I wanted a plus size reader for all my plus size friends who want representation :D) you wanted to shrink to the size of one of the pebbles in the dirt as he bowled with laughter.

“Is that why you’re so shy? Surely you can’t be upset about that?” He prodded you, not in a teasing way. You still couldn’t look at him.

“You’ve never heard anyone being regarded poorly for their size?” You returned.

“Maybe, but those people are idiots. A big body is one that’s tough. You can take hits better than anyone else!” He almost roared. As if you were a strong bear, ready for hibernation. You felt it was a bit ridiculous, but it was also kind of sweet.

“So you don’t think I’m like a pig?” You pushed back, expecting some form of negativity to come forward. You didn’t want any false compliments.

“Not at all, I think you are beautiful. No matter what shape you are,” he said and gave you a playful ruffling of the hair. You felt positively patronized. Though it was clear it was not his intent. Halsin was simple. Nature was nature. Things are what they are. “So will you stop being so bashful and enjoy the water?”

“Not when you say that, I have to be spiteful and refuse now,” you teased and put your washed linens on branches. Despite your joking, you took off whatever you could to be considered swim-ready, but still conservative. You had a sheer undershirt and shorts that covered your underwear. It took a lot of self restraint not to sprint into the water so you would be more obscured. To your relief, Halsin didn’t gawk at you. He simply made his way into the water so he could float and tread. When your bare feet touched the water, it was very warm. A contrast to the last few weeks. It baited you to come further into its embrace. So you did, standing in the water next to Halsin. The water touched your shoulders, but he was much higher above the line. Your toes tipped, grazing against the muddy floor below.

Halsin’s kind eyes looked at you, dampened and blushing. He found you absolutely endearing. With the way Astarion has been acting, the way you two interact, he’s aware there’s a chance you won’t want this. As long as you’re along for the ride, he will have you. But if it’s no longer the dream you want, he will let you go. Right now, you’re in front of him. Innocent and doe eyed. His hands hold your head softly. Instinctively you hold his waist for balance in the water. You were not opposed to Halsin. How much he cared for you, how selfless he was. Though there was this feeling in you, something like guilt. But why feel guilty?

Your thoughts were put to a halt as he leaned down towards you. His lips close to yours. He didn’t dare kiss you yet. Letting you take the lead from here. You blinked a few times, trying to focus. Did you want to kiss him? You were sure you did, so you pressed yourself against him. His lips were tougher than you remembered, his touch on you soft but hungry. In near unison, he hoisted you up. You were lighter in the water, but you figured even with your large size he wouldn’t struggle to hold you. His fingers pressed into your hips. The kiss grew more ravenous, this was new territory for you. Your movements were clumsy at times but perfect at others. It was a dance you never learned but it came naturally. Your fingers clawed through his hair, trying to push him closer than he already was. This touch.. yes you were touchstarved. You needed this.

As you pulled away, panting and lips glossed over with traces of spit from the both of you, you caught your breath. It was like your brain had shut off for a moment. Halsin would’ve fucked you in the water without second thought if you’d signaled you wanted more. But you were hesitating. Something kept feeling so wrong and you couldn’t understand why. You separated from him, and he watched you with curiosity. Despite being wet you put on your clothes. He departed the water and silently asked you what was going on in that head.

“I think I just, I need to take a walk to clear my head,” you said. He was very concerned over you, but let you leave nonetheless. You dropped off your bag at the bookstore. In a rush you left the back door unlocked. It was a decision made on your lack of sleep and blurry head.

You spent a good amount of time walking. You went from Baldur’s Gate to Basilisk Gate to Rivington. It wasn’t a smart idea but an idea nonetheless. You with your weak body and sleep deprivation. But at the very least you did feel like your senses were coming back. There was a deliberate repression of feelings, one that was completely unconscious. You’d ask yourself what that creeping guilt was, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to answer.
When you reached the edge of Rivington, you decided to hop inside the old windmill. Time had tried to tear down the infrastructure of it, but it stood still. You wondered if anyone had any use for it, if it would ever be built. In the dark dusty quiet, you wedged yourself behind old crates. During your travels in the underdark, you were used to finding hiding places. There was no reason to hide but you wanted to squeeze yourself into a comforting position. In this tiny old useless space, nothing else existed. It was just you. Even if you weren’t fond of yourself, you were known. The devil you knew.

Within what felt like seconds the surroundings were pitch black. You realized you had fallen asleep in your nook. What awoke you was the sounds of shuffling and voices. There was suddenly a necessity to stay hidden. Although, there was no way to know if that was true. Until they spoke.

“The vampire spawn have been using a clinic. Run by Astarion,” the gruff voice said.

“Figures,” a female voice responded. “Ever since the gur let him go during the Absolute business, he’s been quiet. That was their mistake, he let all those spawn live. He should die with them.” It was clear for whatever reason these people hated vampires, hated Astarion. They knew about the history of this city and Astarion. Things that were probably obvious to everyone else. Disregarding your thoughts to listen again, they spoke.

“Our group has already set fire to the place, should be ashes within the hour.”

Your entire body froze, breath and heart. What? The clinic is on fire? Right now? How fast could you run? Not very. Halsin and Astarion… where are they? What’s happening. The rest of their conversation was a blur, you only picked up on the sound of them leaving. You waited not so long before running out of there.

You had to run as fast as you could. Can you save the clinic?

Chapter Text

Please note this chapter will have graphic depictions of violence. If you are uncomfortable with this there will be a post chapter summary at the end that relays the events without the gorey details. I will also post CW before the paragraphs that contain the worst details in case you just want to skim over them. Please enjoy!

(https://open.spotify.com/track/1hOgEVzzGu9AIzmFOHnmIO?si=ec8c4218436d4baa )
It was the longest you’d ever run, your legs were sore and aching. Lungs felt like they were on fire, each breath painful and labored. The only thing that brought you this far was the pure panic and fear. Your face was wet with tears and sweat, wondering if you’d find all that you’d come to love in ashes.

When the clinic came into view, it was standing as it always was. Ivy crawling up the wooden slats, different plants surrounding the building. The only difference was that inside you could see fighting. The door was open, blood pooling around the entrance. You’d watched for a few moments in shock, but also to catch what little breath you had left. (CONTENT WARNING BEGIN) In a flurry, you saw Astarion drive a dagger into the head of what you assumed to be a vampire hunter. Blood spraying out against his face. He did not hesitate before spinning and slashing upwards another one’s torso. Your eyes quickly shifted towards a bear, which had to be Halsin, roaring and slashing his claws through. A pile of bodies began to build. There was certainly nothing you could do but watch. You snuck closer, hiding behind the front of the counter. Hiding was your strong suit. You felt like a child, peeking over the counter.

Three men surrounded Halsin, but with his claws and bite, they were no match. Astarion had one man in front of him and one behind. You realized that he was a second from casting something. In a panic, you grabbed a weapon from one of the dead bodies on the ground. With your presence unknown to the caster, you were able to grab him and slit his throat. A positively violent move that you weren’t expecting from yourself. It was because you were worried he would finish his spell, you wanted to silence him. He gurgled and coughed up blood on the back of Astarion. Who, after having killed the man in front of him, whipped around in surprise. Everyone besides you, him, and Halsin were dead on the floor. Or in the process of dying. There were muffled sounds of blood being expelled through people’s lungs.
Astarion was coated in blood, his eyes a darker red. It had to be the lighting. Halsin kept his bear shape for the moment, silently surveying the perimeter of the shop. You thought you might collapse.

“Are you alright darling?” he asked you, eyeing you curiously. You slumped against the wall and nodded. Overwhelmed with everything that happened in the last 24 hours.

“They said it was on fire, they said it was on fire,” you repeated, voice soft and cracking. He gave you a sympathetic look.

“Over my undead body,” he spat towards the pile of bodies. “We have measures in place. And they were stupid to come at dusk. They couldn’t get a torch to the place before they began to fall.” He was murderous. You realized maybe your fear was misplaced. Halsin and Astarion were much more capable warriors than you had initially known.

It was also quite lucky that you were not there when they came. Since you don’t really know how to fight, you would’ve been useless. Worse so, you might’ve died, been among the piles of bloodied bodies. The fear and exhaustion were contradicting each other just enough that you could still stand. The ache you would feel tomorrow would probably keep you in bed for the whole day at least. You wondered why they chose dusk. If they knew they were fighting vampires, wouldn’t fighting in the daytime be much smarter? Unless they were trying to evade Halsin specifically? You wondered if maybe they just didn’t plan very well. A group of fanatics crazed and hellbent on murder, not worried about the details. The only silver lining perhaps.

Halsin reentered the clinic, back in his normal form.

“That’s the last of them,” he informed the both of you. You wondered what would be done with the mess that was left behind. In your life you hadn’t been around fighting, at least nothing like this. As if reading your mind, the two of them began hauling the bodies out of the shop. The blood was soaking into the wood. Something that was silly to think about, but you didn’t want it to stain. You hobbled towards the nearest bucket, filling it up with water from the closest point that accessed the Chionthar. It was a wonder you had enough strength to move. With those remaining strands you grabbed cleaning supplies and attempted to scrub out the blood from the bodies that were there just moments ago.

(https://open.spotify.com/track/7sL05OTVdmVcwsAG2IBf1G?si=a8bf8e2568644b4e )
Astarion crouched next to you, you swore you didn’t even hear him come back inside. The smell of fire and what could be assumed to be burning flesh entered your nostrils. Holding back a gag, you looked at him. He was looking at you with the most concern he seemed to have had for you since you met him. Little did you know he had looked at you this way before, when you were out for days with the initial potion. His worry was just usually better concealed from your knowledge. This time he couldn’t hide it. You were gone when the hunters attacked, you hadn’t been down to the cellar at all. He knew you hadn’t slept. He didn’t know what exactly happened or what you were feeling but he knew something was wrong.

“Darling, will you please stop and get some rest? We can take care of this,” he murmured towards you. Your chest stirred in a way that you knew spelled attachment. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push away the reality. Taking a deep breath you responded.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if I found this place in flames, I care so much about this place, about the two of you. You are the only friends I’ve ever had,” you started to cry, tears running down your face and you felt foolish. You were upset that you had cried so much as of late. Normally you were good at hiding feelings but you were tired and strained. You were facing feelings you’d never had before, places you’d never been. You were far from weak. In fact, some would say you were stronger than most. To be able to let those feelings go, spill out of you, that was brave. You wouldn’t give yourself the credit though, because there were still a million more emotions that you hadn’t faced. A million more that you wouldn’t show. This was simply the tip of the iceberg.

As you began to cry, sitting on the floor, surrounded by dried blood and the scent of burning bodies; Astarion wrapped his arms around you. An embrace you were not expecting. Previously, before the journey with Tav and tadpoles, he wouldn’t dream of being this soft. Even if he had felt scorned by his unrequited love, he still learned something. Being kind to someone didn’t have to come with a price. It would take nothing from him to give you this comfort and it would give you something you needed. He wouldn’t require a favor in return. With a gentle manner, he pet your hair. You couldn’t help but cry harder at the affection. All of this would’ve been gone. You wouldn’t have even had hope.

He helped you up and opened the hatch to the cellar for you. He climbed down first, spotting you as you climbed down just a few steps above him. You assumed you would be heading towards the purple couch, but he guided you towards his bed. You gave him a confused look.

(https://open.spotify.com/track/0ycG3AoBngC2MJCjmADW0S?si=53f5534e0ec545e7 )
“I don’t need the bed right now, so you might as well use it. You deserve a real bed after not sleeping all day and night,” he insisted, pulling back the blankets and smoothing down the sheets. You were sure you had never seen him act this…motherly. It was a shock that was very welcome. With a little bit of embarrassment you sat and pulled your boots off. You didn’t bother undressing into under clothes, just laid back and stared at the ceiling. This was the view that Astarion adopted each morning. The entire bed smelled like him. You were embarrassed that you recognized the scent. It was because he doused himself in perfumes and flowery oils to smell like anything besides undeath. He pulled the covers over you, you didn’t understand why he was being so sweet and gentle. Like you were a wounded gazelle. Was there something that he saw that he couldn’t help but be sympathetic towards?

You weren’t sure, but as your eyes fluttered closed, sleep overtook you quickly. Astarion stayed and watched you for a few moments, as if to protect you. Though he realized his responsibilities remained elsewhere. He left you there and returned to the upper floor. Him and Halsin cleaned up the rest of the mess, darkened colors where the blood was. It wouldn’t be possible to completely remove all the evidence of the attack. Astarion thought that maybe he’d have to snatch a rug from somewhere to cover up the spots, but then again, it added some character.

You slept a long time, up until the point when Astarion would need to sleep. He put himself on the purple couch while you slept in his bed. You only woke up when he did, at the lowering of the sun the next day. A whole 24 hours worth of sleep. You supposed that was a new record. You wanted to change your clothes but decided you’d just have to wait to do that. Astarion lit the candles and illuminated the cellar in a low soft light. Before he could start climbing the ladder you interrupted him.

“What’s the absolute?” You asked, head tilted. It was something the hunters mentioned in the windmill, and you wanted to know more. Astarion let out a sigh. That was a story that would take quite some time to explain. He motioned you to follow him upstairs. Instead of heading straight to Halsin for your healing and potion, you both sat on the stools behind the counter. You noticed the new stains on the floor and winced internally.

“I’m going to try to give you all the details as fast as I can, because if I tried to give you the full story we would be here for a hundred hours,” he spoke, folding his hands together. “Those friends you saw, in the painting downstairs, we all were infected with illithid tadpoles.”

“I know what an illithid is but, tadpoles?” you asked with a tilted head. He feigned annoyance at you.

“You’re going to have so many questions aren’t you? Illithids infect others by planting tadpoles or parasites inside people’s minds. They start a process called ceremorphosis, which turns someone into a mind flayer,” he explained. You made a “yuck” expression. The idea of a worm inside your brain did not incite positive feelings.

“Anyway, we all ended up infected. But instead of turning, we remained the same. I even got the bonus of no vampire side effects. You’ve heard of the dead three I assume?” he tried. You nodded. You had heard of Myrkul, Bhaal, and Bane. There was talk about them and something about a netherbrain. No one had ever bothered to tell you the full story. “Three stupid idiots, Ketheric, Orin, and Gortash, made pacts with the dead three to become like gods. To put it painly, they wanted to enslave the people of Baldur’s gate and get infinite power, blah blah blah,” he waved the air as if the story was boring. You gave a judging look.

“I said I was going to be brief wasn’t I?” he teased with a smirk. You rolled your eyes at him. “Me and my friends were the heroes of Baldur’s gate, stopped their evil plans, and thus the clinic and whatnot.”

You were glad that all of that was over, but he didn’t really explain where the absolute came into it. There were a lot of details he was leaving out too, but to be fair it was a really long story anyway. So you allowed it. With that you sighed and he gave you a look that said “whatever.” You headed up to take your potion and healing spell. You felt nervous seeing Halsin but he seemed to act like everything was perfectly normal and nothing had changed. As if a siege on the clinic and making out in a spring was all in a day’s work. Pushing the images and feelings of being pressed up against Halsin, you decided to act as if nothing changed too.

It was hard to imagine both Astarion and Halsin and all those people working together to end the reign of three godlike beings. Though it explained their strength against the hunters. It confirmed the idea that the hunters were idiots. Astarion, vampire, one of the heroes of Baldur’s Gate. Paired with Halsin, former keeper of Emerald Grove, master druid proficient in wild shaping into fearsome creatures, and also one of the heroes of Baldur’s Gate. Two nearly unstoppable forces that were known as god killers. Little did you know they were not only god killers but demon killers too. They’d felled dragons, gods, demons, hags, and a full powered vampire. A group of hunters were like a horde of ants under a giant’s foot. They would be easily squashed.

These thoughts brewed inside of your mind as you descended down the stairs. At the same time, the door (surprisingly still in one piece) opened. A tall young man, probably the most handsome guy you’d seen besides Astarion. He was ethereal. His skin was a pale blue, eyes shrouded with black, irises blazing blue. A tiefling with long black horns that curled up. You hadn’t met too many tieflings in your time, but this one was about as tall as Halsin. He was quite intimidating to behold. You’d expected Astarion to react the same way he did when Adalia entered the bookshop, but he stood up so fast he nearly knocked over his stool. His pale face seemed to somehow grow darker. Eyes filled with a palpable shock and sorrow.

“Tav?”

(POST CHAPTER SUMMARY)

The clinic is fine and not in flames. Halsin and Astarion were able to defeat all the hunters who threatened the clinic's safety. You were extremely exhausted and overwhelmed and Astarion comforted and held you. He helped you to bed, his bed, and you slept in it by yourself. You slept the whole day. The next day everything was oddly unchanged. Astarion explained to you more about the adventure with the illithid tadpoles. At the end of the chapter, Tav comes to visit the bookstore. In the next chapter, see how Astarion acts around Tav and discover more about his past.

Chapter Text

You remembered that Astarion had mentioned a Tav before. His feelings about him were never really clear. It was obvious there were feelings, but the nature of them were obscured. You waited near the top of the steps, watching their interaction unfold. It wouldn’t be right to intrude, this was a moment with a relationship you had no place in. From a time you were not present for.

Tav was a tall tiefling sporting long red hair and brilliant blue eyes. Beautiful was definitely the word you’d use to describe his looks. His nose was perfect. A perfect slope and sized for his face. Lips that were placed in just the right spot, slightly parted. Long eyelashes and eyes that caught light in a dark room. It was the thing of fairy tales. You’d supposed Astarion had that about him, but the difference was Tav absolutely radiated. The positive emotion and aura surrounding him was palpable. You’d wondered if he had some spell on or something. A scar crossed over his neck, as if someone had pressed a dagger to it. This was the only semblance of an imperfection present. Even his outfit was of finer fabrics and fashionably paired colors.

“I’d been putting off a visit Asty,” his voice was light, an accent different from what you expected. The nickname threw you off guard as well. No one around here ever called Astarion anything but… well Astarion.

“I can’t imagine why,” Astarion returned, trying to rebuild the facade of a charismatic charlatan.

Tav didn’t respond, simply walked through the bookstore. It was as if he was a customer just here to browse, not a long time friend. You took this as your opportunity to descend the stairs, feeling the initial shock of the moment wearing off. It seemed that this wasn’t Tav’s first visit to the bookstore, only that it had been a long time. Astarion looked at you in a way that was unfamiliar. He was nervous, but nervous enough that he showed it. Or maybe he trusted you enough to show it. You brushed that notion away, feeling it was fanatical. What you couldn’t surmise, was why he was so nervous around Tav.

Speak of the devil, he picked up on your new presence. A wonderfully charming smile appeared on his face. He waved, almost in a childlike way. His teeth were straight and white. No vampire fangs at least. He approached you then shook your hand without hesitation.

“I’ve not met you before!” He had way more enthusiasm than you expected. You were just a little plump Druid who couldn’t cast magic well. “I’m Tav.”

You hesitantly smiled back, feeling this much positivity must come with a back draw. Sensing your confusion, Astarion spoke up.

“Don’t worry, he really is just that insufferably cheerful, no ulterior motives here,” he quipped, giving Tav a playful scowl.

You introduced yourself, giving your name. Tav repeated it and nodded.

“A lovely name, what brings you to Astarion’s home for misfits?” He asked, not skipping over small talk about the weather.

You shifted uncomfortably. Out of reflex you glanced at Astarion, you didn’t presume you were more trustworthy than Tav to him, but the clinic’s secret might not be known. Astarion gave you a small nod, knowing precisely what you were getting at. For a moment you almost felt a bit of protectiveness from him. He felt like you were very unversed in socialization and doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.

“I’m trying to cure something, an illness I have,” you spoke. “No luck yet.”

You were met with a sympathetic look.

“Not too dissimilar to a situation we were all in long ago,” he offered. You were able to figure he meant the illithid tadpoles that Astarion told you about in very few sentences. If Tav were going to be here for a while maybe you could find out more?

As if reading your mind, Tav approached Astarion.

“I came here because I need help with something,” he began explaining. It seemed he had no trouble with you overhearing. The honesty was refreshing. “I’m gathering whoever remains from our old party that still reside in Baldur’s Gate.”

Astarion’s eyes widened. Clearly this was a big deal.

“It will be easy to deal with. There’s been a reemergence of a Hag. Not Ethel. Mayrina sent me word. Her base is in the undercity sewers. I knew it would be foolish to go it alone.”

A hag? You’d heard of them many times. You knew of one that lived in the swamp area south of the grove. No one ever went out there, it was dangerous, dark, and smelly. Hags were powerful, born by insidious means. They were like devils, offering promises to people. Only, instead of fulfilling them she would go right for the kill. Twisting words and making them come ‘true’ in the most painful and insufferable ways possible. These monsters were the source of scary stories told by fires, the beast parents would warn children about. “Best clean your room, or the hag will get you!” You shuddered at the thought of a real one. A real one under your feet, stealing people and causing atrocities. But it seemed by Tav’s words this wouldn’t be the first one they’d faced. Having killed gods before would probably make hags lesser beings. You didn’t know exactly how people ranked their enemies when they got as menacing and powerful as hags and gods.

“Are you going to get Gale?” Astarion asked. You didn’t know who Gale was.

(https://spotify.link/E75YvzK7tDb)
“As long as he’s not with his family in water deep or too busy exploring the tower with Rolan, or exploring Rolan,” Tav said, without being able to restrain himself from laughing at his own joke. It earned an infamous eye roll from Astarion, but a smile too. They sounded all like good friends, it made you a bit sad but you realized there was still time yet to find your own friends.

Part of you wanted to come along on this journey, but you knew that would be stupid. You couldn’t cast, and you couldn’t wild shape. You’d be a liability, you’d slow them down. The sadness crept up again. You wanted to be useful, wanted to be a part of their journey. To be the person they sung about in tavern songs. But you were not. You felt like you had no purpose. If you were sick before you could do anything worthwhile, how could you bear to continue forward? What you didn’t know, what was potentially obscured by your thoughts, your sadness…you are useful. Not because you’ll be someone they sing about in tavern songs, not because you’re going to make history, but because you mean something to someone. You have brought light where there was darkness. Your power and use are held within your willingness to try. The inspiration that you foster in those around you. A world is not made better just by big triumphs and bloody battles, but by little cogs of positivity all throughout it. Without these cogs, the machine would implode. You do not have to be a hero to be meaningful. A lesson that you had yet to learn.

Halsin soon descended the stairs, the voices pulling him away from his gardening and alchemy. When Tav entered his sight he quickly rushed towards the redhead, picking him up in a tight squeezing hug.

“By god you big oaf you’re going to kill him,” Astarion remarked. Tav let out strangled and breathless laughter. When Halsin put him down, he ruffled his hair. It was clear they had a brotherly relationship. You couldn’t quite tell who was supposed to be the big brother though.

“Did you hear what I said while you were up there?” Tav asked.

“No, repeat it?”

“Mayrina sent word of a hag in the undercity, need you guys and Gale to help me do pest control,” Tav reiterated. Halsin looked angry at the notion of a hag in the city. You couldn’t blame him. Hags were a perversion of nature. It was like a Druid’s evil twin. “I will go fetch Gale tonight, rest up until tomorrow night, and we will all meet at the sewer by the gate.”

Mustering up the courage to speak, “When will you be back?” You asked. They all looked at you, just as surprised as you were that you spoke. It wasn’t like you couldn’t, you just seemed so shy. You weren’t much of a talker, but especially around these guys you felt quiet. They were all taller than you, louder than you, and way more confident than you. It was almost funny. Tav shot you a sympathetic smile.

“Should just be the night. Our friend here hates the sun you know,” he quipped. You were glad you were already aware of Astarion being a vampire. If you weren’t, Astarion’s rage might’ve burned a hole in Tav. Instead he opted to throw a book at him. Tav feigned offense.

“Oh like it’s not obvious. You’re not still trying to hide it from people are you?”

Astarion grumbled and crossed his arms. Tav roared with laughter. It was contagious. Halsin joined and you couldn’t help but cover your mouth and snicker too. All of it was enough to make Astarion smile. Because truly, it was hilarious. Pale man with red eyes and shining fangs who only goes out at night? Definitely not a vampire. If you had been more familiar with the creatures, you probably would’ve figured it out sooner than you did. Jokes aside, you figured you could survive here for just the night by yourself. The hunters would likely not attack since their numbers had been cut down recently. They’d need to regroup and make another plan. That being said clinic patients would be low in number too. You and Halsin could make potions for the rest of tonight to stock up.

And so you did. You were nervous, but you could probably heal whoever came for help. Bookkeeping was easy to do without Astarion too. That night it was hard for you to sleep. You ended up bringing a candle next to the couch, reading a book to try to make yourself feel tired. With each chapter you watched the candle get shorter and shorter. It was an indicator that you were better off just closing the book. When you went to return the book and candle, you noticed Astarion sitting up. You nearly jumped out of your skin, not expecting him to be awake too.

“Surprise,” he said in a bitter tone. He needed to be asleep too. (A/N I know elves meditate and don’t sleep like humans do, but since MC’s race is ambiguous sleep and meditation are synonymous in this case). It worried you to think that he would be running on no sleep before entering a dangerous fight with a fabled hag.

“You should be asleep,” you spoke your thoughts out loud.

“I could say the same to you dear,” he countered. The way he said dear felt different for some reason. Lately you’d been getting these nervous stirrings in your chest when Astarion looked at you. It didn’t make sense. Why would you suddenly be anxious to talk to him? It wasn’t because he was a vampire, that didn’t scare you. If anything you’d probably let him bite you if it kept him alive. He had done a lot for you after all, and he had been through a lot. Maybe you were scared to lose his friendship? That was more likely to you. It took quite a bit of time to build trust with him, rapport. You didn’t want to say something stupid and ruin it.

“Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” he teased you, as you were staring at him with your mouth slightly agape. You closed it and blushed, turning away from him. Deciding to continue on with your original task, you returned the book to its place and blew the candle out. The cellar didn’t get much darker but it felt like it did. Your eyes adjusted and you noticed Astarion was still looking at you.

“Hypocrite,” you fired at him, smiling. This kind of banter was not something you got to do very often. It was comfortable and natural.

“Don’t you know better than to irritate a creature of the night?” He joked, the theatrical tone exaggerated even more, so the sarcasm was painfully obvious.

“Yeah, all I have to do is run upstairs, duh.”

“Think I can’t catch you?”

Your heart fluttered. Why is the thought of Astarion running to catch you making you feel like this? Images of his arm grabbing you, pinning you against the cold stone floor. You blinked a few times in shock of yourself. A small swallow was the only sound you made.

“Oh don’t tell me I actually scared you? You have to be braver than that,” he teased, pulling you back to reality.

“Scared? No. Just out of witty replies,” you recovered fairly gracefully. He laughed at your honesty.

“At least you have the guts to admit defeat.” He paused and turned his gaze. “I know why I can’t sleep. Why not you?”

You scoffed.

“You’re not the only person who cares about you,” you joked, but it wasn’t really a joke. It came off more affectionate than you intended but it still rang true. “If you and Halsin go and die in that sewer, what am I gonna do here?”

You regretted your attempt at sounding not-as-interested-as-I-actually-am because you brought forth another truth. The possibility this hag could be more dangerous than the last, or maybe they were rusty. Maybe they would be caught off guard. There were an endless array of bad possibilities that would end with you alone in a vampire clinic that you don’t have the healing power to run, and no cure.

“Tav has a penchant for do-good plans that are near suicidal but this isn’t one of them. One hag, four way too experienced ex adventurers, the odds are in our favor. Plus Tav is a great healer,” Astarion assured you. He truly sounded confident in the plans to eliminate the hag. But it occurred to you, if he wasn’t nervous about that… why couldn’t he sleep.

“Humor me, why are you awake then?”

Silence.

Awful lots of silence.

It was almost like he didn’t hear you. It was too dark to gather his facial expressions. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or how “late” it was. Astarion was inclined to indulge your question.

“I love Tav. And I always will,” he informed you. “He knows. But Tav doesn’t love… that way.” You tilted your head in confusion. It wasn’t just unrequited love.

“To be more specific, Tav doesn’t do romance. Or sex even. Never seen him swoon over anyone. I suppose that’s how he stays so pure. Not a lust in his heart,” Astarion spoke in a mournful tone. He loved Tav in a way that he needed to be loved. He wanted something from Tav, that he could not give. You wondered when the guy would get a break. Maybe this clinic was the closest thing to a break he’s had. The only good thing that didn’t hurt. Even then, there was still pain in the roots.

You don’t know what possessed you to stand next to his bed, but you did. You offered him a small squeeze, ignoring the fact he didn’t have a shirt on. You could overcome your shyness for giving comfort. Feeling a bit sheepish, you quickly stepped back afterwards. He looked at you, you could see the sadness in his expression now that you were closer. When he saw your timid nature, his emotions shifted to amusement. You were the tale of innocence. Navigating through this journey experiencing things for the first time, or at least things that had become unfamiliar to you. Unlike Tav, you weren’t pure. Not in a bad way, but you weren’t soaked in intoxicating optimism. It was peculiar to Astarion. You felt the jaded angst that the suffering of the world inflicted, but yet, you still offered kindness. You strived for hope. Even when there was none to be had, you still tried. Tav was like an angel who took every bad thing in stride, never faltering, never running out of kindness or generosity. You were unlike anything else. A perfect array of contradictions. Hopeful but pessimistic, kind but stubborn, quiet but eloquent.

“You have all of eternity to find someone who will love you as much as you love them, which might be bittersweet but. You have so much more opportunity to find a lover, some of us only have so much time,” you attempted to comfort. “Maybe if you weren’t such a sarcastic asshole to strangers you could meet them faster.” The added joke was the key to cheering Astarion up. He has a weakness for banter.

“Oh no, I’m not a sarcastic asshole to all strangers, just you.”

You rolled your eyes and returned to your couch. With your fears assuaged, the both of you could find sleep.

Chapter Text

(A/N Sorry for such a delay, been sick and feeling yucky, lots of stuff happening, such is the curse of an AO3 author. But! I’m hoping this will be a long thickque chapter, special edition with two parts, one in Astarion’s POV and the other in MC’s)

Part 1 - The Hag (Content Warning - PTSD, graphic depictions of violence)

He lurked in the shadows ahead of the group, since he was best at spotting and disarming traps. This sewer smelled like an asshole, but it was familiar to him. Regardless of how Astarion felt, he was confident this battle would be easy. Even though his whole body felt sickly being shoved inside the leather armor he used to wear daily. The feeling of his hands on daggers, being alert.

Imagine prey, before its predator. Your entire body is wired to survive. Each movement a reflex. Would someone choose to become the prey again? No. Of course he chose to be here, but this feeling was unwelcome. The vice grip of panic wouldn’t overtake him, instead it would linger in the back of his mind. It would remind him of its presence by the tingling in his fingertips before and after each movement. Every sound that was not immediately identifiable, would send hairs standing on his neck.

It wasn’t obvious. The others adapted well. Tav was built for hunting. Despite his frighteningly angel-like nature, he was a machine. Astarion had found himself wondering if Tav even had actual feelings at some points. Maybe he was just as good at hiding as you were. Gale was apprehensive, he was happy to be with everyone again though. Being able to put his years of practiced magic to good use was always a joy. When the world itself isn’t at stake, it doesn’t feel as suffocating for most of them. Astarion thought about his other companions, if they felt the same way he did. The places they ended up, some of them still fight to this day. His greatest enemy was the sun and vampire hunters, but he wasn’t on the run. He wasn’t in the same place he was with Cazador, with the tadpole.

Those situations took so much out of him. To be reminded of them was disheartening. Nonetheless, they progressed through the undercity, following the stray mushrooms. Focus was vital. One misstep into a trap…Plus if the hag knows they’re coming, she might be invisible or hiding in an illusion.

As the mushrooms grew more numerous, it was obvious the hag’s hiding place was near. Voices were nearby. The party became one with the shadows, approaching the unfolding event. There were two people. One was a young adolescent boy, the other an older woman. She was similar to Aunt Ethel but not the same. Tears fell rapidly out of the young boy’s eyes as the woman caressed his shoulder in a motherly manner.

“I just want my dad back, please, please help me,” he choked on his own sobs, as the old woman embraced him. Astarion’s stomach twisted. Many people had begged hags for something they couldn’t have. The smart thing would’ve been to wait for her to show her true colors, but Tav was willing to risk getting hurt. The sooner the boy was separated the better. So he stepped out of the shadows, bow raised and pointed at the woman.

“Step away from the boy,” his voice rang out clear, confident, almost like a weapon itself. She did not release the boy from her hug, instead feigned a protective pose over him. She pretended to be shocked and scared.

“Please! We’ve done nothing wrong!” she cried out, as if Tav and the party were second rate robbers.

With an aim true, a release of the arrow sent it flying into the hag’s shoulder. She released a spluttering cough and pushed the boy to the ground, now more concerned with self preservation than appearances. The boy was shocked at her actions, but still tried to defend her.

“Don’t hurt her!” he cried out.

“Go home boy, she’s a hag,” Gale spoke, emerging from the shadows next, flames in hand.

His expression was confused, disbelieving. He kept looking from the hag to the group that was in front of him. Weighing the options, their likelihood, and how he would move forward. Alas, he stayed frozen to the ground.

“Now where did you get a ridiculous notion like that? I’m simply a humble grandmo-” her spiel was cut short by the flinging of Gale’s flames onto her body. The unyielding attacks made her disguise slip. The boy’s expression immediately dropped, color leaving his face. Without any other word, he was lucky enough to run from the sewers with his life intact. Astarion sends another arrow her way from the shadows, since her focus was shifted on Gale and Tav. She cackled and with a crack, split into three illusionary copies of herself. Halsin shifted into his bear form as she hurled poison fumes to the group. Her copies were relentless. Gale fell after being hit, Tav turned his attention to getting him back up.

Astarion dived on the hag’s back, diving a dagger into her neck. This was the real one, he could tell as the blood spilled out of her. She threw him against the wall, letting out an ear shattering shriek. Halsin swiped his claws across her several times, taking her off balance. With Gale back up from Tav’s help, he called lightning down on the hag, the room flickering with light as the electricity rippled through her body. The team was in tandem just as they used to be. Astarion shot an arrow of ice at her, creating a frozen patch. The hag sent more poison out, making Astarion cough and double over. Tav set fire to the ice, then Gale recalled his lightning to electrify the water. The hag was stuck for long enough another arrow could pierce her, and this was the money shot. It flew into her head, sending her to the ground with a large thud.

For a moment it was just the sound of panting and the electricity snapping on the water. Halsin returned to his normal shape, almost none the worse for wear. He healed any remaining wounds on the rest of the party members, as they took a moment to stare down the hag’s corpse. Astarion didn’t waste much time before rifling through her stuff, trying to find valuables. It wasn’t a hard fight, but it still left a bitter taste in his mouth. It felt like they would return to what had seemed like the neverending adventure, and sleep under the stars. At times, it had its appeal. But when thinking back to it all, it made Astarion want to leave. He wanted to go back to the safety and familiarity of the bookshop. Most days were exactly the same and he loved it. On the other hand, splitting up from his only friends didn’t need to be rushed. Asking to stick together for a bit longer was out of his comfort zone, so instead he continued searching through her stuff.

Tav was the one who spoke up first.

“Would you all like to meet with Mayrina and have something to eat before we split ways?” he suggested, eyeing Astarion busying himself. Astarion would not admit it, but Tav could read him like a book. Before he could blame the tadpoles, but now, it was clear it was more than that.

Halsin smiled in response, always ready to do something new and fun. All of them hadn’t seen the girl in quite some time. It was a bit surprising she was still able to find a way to contact Tav. Gale was never one to protest most social things. He had his discomforts and limits, but didn’t like to say no.

So with their literal and metaphorical rewards, they ventured toward the hideout Mayrina stayed in. It had seemed silly at first when Astarion first came across the group, but ultimately their numbers grew and it became a nice organization of people. Actual hag findings didn’t happen often, but it was a good support group. People liked to be a part of things, and Mayrina created something people loved to be a part of. It was easy to agree on the elimination of hags, so easy for common ground to be found. He wouldn’t admit it, but it was going to be nice to be around friends. It had been two hundred long years without any friends, then for a short bit he was blessed with some. Before he could get comfortable with the feeling of warmth, it was taken from him. Sometimes he regretted giving up the power of the ritual ascension. What use was it being the good guy when you were so alone half the time? Halsin wasn’t the best company, since Halsin spent most of his time busy. These thoughts swarmed in his head as the group walked in silence.

You crossed his mind. Fluttering images of you hunched over piles of books, laughing with your head tilted back, your eyes boring into his. You were much better company than Halsin. He was infatuated. Without much active thinking, memories of you spilled behind his eyes. The sight of tears spilling down your soft cheeks, all for him. Your soft sleeping frame curled up on the purple couch, illuminated by the soft candlelight. All of your facial expressions at his relentless teasing. Unconsciously his lips began to form a smile. It hadn’t been very long since he first met you, but long enough he’s come to know you. He would be a fool not to notice the tension between you and Halsin though. Another unconscious facial expression, one of a scowl. At least Tav didn’t end up with anyone else.

Astarion thought he shouldn’t compare the two of you. You are two very different creatures with different stories. It would be immature to remain smitten with someone who had another life, someone who would never love back. But with you, there might still be time. There might still be a chance to sway you. Even if he had spent most of his time with you being sarcastic, he still wanted to try.

The group arrived at Mayrina’s safe house. The outside was still in shambles, a small path well worn led to the back entrance. Even if the structure appeared abandoned, it was hard to make anyone believe it was. With all of the people gathered here, their voices could be heard from the outside. Lantern light leaked out between broken wooden slats and you could smell ale and smoke. It was a glorified tavern at this point. This did provide safety in numbers though. When their presence was made known by their awkward standing in the center of the room, Mayrina approached them with a smile.

“Good news for the Hag?” She inquired, putting her hands on Gale and Tav’s shoulders. She looked slightly drunk. Likely due to anxiety.

“Off with her head,” Tav returned, giving Mayrina’s shoulder a mirrored squeeze. The surrounding patrons heard and raised their glasses in cheer. Mayrina let out a ‘whoop’ of her own. Connor’s corpse let out a mangled moan. Astarion wondered how she managed to keep that thing around, but to each their own. It was amusing to think of the varying levels of attractiveness undead had. You could look like Connor or you could look like Astarion.

Within a few minutes the group are sitting at a circular table, Mayrina and a friend serving them a round of cheap ale. Astarion lifted his lip in disgust when no one was looking. He hated cheap alcohol. Even still, he tipped the glass up, letting the warm and bitter liquid assault his taste. No one drank alcohol for the taste. Gale raised his glass and clinked it against Halsin’s and Tav’s. He gave a look at Astarion and decided not to “cheers” with him. It wasn’t unusual for everyone to be in better spirits than him. Astarion was the resident pessimist. Though in the past some of his bitterness was more a charade than truth. This time it was true. He would rather be sitting behind the counter with you, talking about nothing or not talking at all. Sharing the empty space and making it feel so much warmer. His fist clenched under the table. There was a building sense of frustration. It felt like he had to do something right now, like there was no time. In response to his growing set of emotions, he drank more cheap ale.

Tav, the Astarion whisperer, looked over at the brooding elf.

“Astarion, get your head out of your head for a second, enjoy this night?” He prodded with a tilted head. Astarion rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. His posture was like that of a toddler. Suddenly he was /assaulted/ by a peanut to the face. Tav laughed, he was not the perpetrator. Instead Gale was holding a small bowl and wearing a pout.

“Come on Astarion, we rarely see each other and really there’s not much to brood about anymore, don’t sour the mood,” Gale commented. He was right. The world was saved, finances were secure, Cazador was dead, and all of his friends were alive. It was true that he was still a vampire and you, you were a problem. Even he could acquiesce that it didn’t do well to focus on the negativity. With a large sigh and another deep drink of ale, he revealed a wicked grin.

“Then sing and dance for me, make it more entertaining because gods I’m bored,” he said, full teasing engaged. Gale scoffed.

“Over my dead-“ Gale was cut off, nearly choked, by Tav grabbing him and dragging him up out of his seat. Oh this was going to be good.

With almost not enough balance to be steady, Tav got on top of the table, holding his glass. He grabbed Gale’s forearm and nearly forced him up with him. The wizard’s face was beginning to turn red from alcohol and embarrassment. Tav wrapped his arm around Gale, both for stability and the comedy of it all. Patrons began to look at them and wonder what was going on.

“Friends! Tonight me and my pal Gale here will be singing a song, of victory!” Tav slurred, having drank way too much too fast. If Gale didn’t like him, he would’ve shoved his “pal” off the table. The crowd cheered and awaited a song. Gale looked at Tav with fear and apprehension. His voice rang out, loud and off key. It seemed he was ad-libbing a song about killing hags. Astarion covered his mouth to help contain the laughter that threatened to spill.

“Haaaags, are meant to die!” He sung and pointed to Gale.

“Haaaaaags… will make you cry?” Gale tried to rhyme and continue.

“We used knives and magic!”

“To wreak a lot of havoc!”

The crowd started to clap a haphazard beat, too drunk to tell just how bad the song was.

“With the hag no more!”

“Kicked evil out the door!”

“Children are now saaaafe!”

Silence. Gale is struggling to find a rhyme.

“Haaaaags are meant to die!” He decided to just go back to the first line. Everyone was laughing and clapping at their stupid performance. It was a miracle the two made it off the table without falling and breaking a bone or two. As they settled in their seats, Gale laid his head on the table.

“Astarion I hate you,” he mumbled into the wood.

The only response was more laughter from the other three.

Upstairs they all crashed in makeshift bedrolls and couches. Astarion took care to make sure he was shaded and kept in a corner where the sun wouldn’t touch. The others left after sleeping, but before the sun came down. Halsin waited until it was night before waking Astarion. Together they journeyed back to the bookstore.

Part 2 - Circling the Drain

You were relieved when Halsin and Astarion returned. Their spirits were high and you wanted to match the energy, but you weren’t feeling very well. The potions hadn’t made too much progress and if this was a flare up of symptoms, your emotions weren’t going to be very helpful either. There’s only so much hoping you can do when a situation feels hopeless. Regardless, you promised yourself you’d greet them with gratitude and praise. It certainly couldn’t have been easy to go into a fight like that. Despite your praises, they remained pretty humble and returned quickly to their mundane everyday tasks. You’re not sure why you felt slightly disappointed. Maybe you somehow knew you were left out of the celebration.

Astarion stood over by the counter, not doing anything in particular. You attempted to continue going through your stack of books and stamping them. Each movement was slow and heavy, your eyelids weighing down. It had been hard to sleep while they were not there, and your body felt weak too. Perhaps your fear had spurred this episode on. You didn’t know exactly what you were pushing yourself for. Did you do all of this just to convince yourself you were okay?

The vampire’s gaze naturally slid towards you. If you didn’t know better you’d say he could read your thoughts. Merely though, he just couldn’t keep his eyes off you. Not for the banal reason of appearances, but to observe you. There was a lot of value in knowing what you were doing and thinking. Right now, it was not difficult to notice your fatigue. The color that normally painted your expressions was absent. A dark maroon shade laid underneath your eyes. He could see how your hands would shake or hesitate as you gathered strength to continue. Immediate concern rushed through him. Before saying anything, he continued to eye you. Watching and making sure that his assumptions were correct. Of course, the intense scrutiny caught your own attention. When you looked at him, you accidentally gave him confirmation. There was something about the way your eyes looked, he could tell you were tired.

“Dear, certainly you don’t think stamping books is more important than a rest you might need for your health, right?” He asked the rhetorical question, giving you a motherly look. It was interesting how often Astarion would suddenly become motherly. You’d think him not capable of it.

“Hah, I try to avoid mid-evening naps, wouldn’t want to correct my sleep schedule,” you teased, playing the role Astarion usually took. Being sarcastic to hide the truth. Instead of a laugh or brushing it off like you assumed he would, he stood up and offered you a hand. You stared at it, like it was a mysterious object you had never seen before.

“For gods sake, take my hand before you keel over like a dusty librarian,” he nearly spat at you. You couldn’t help but laugh at his choice of words, making Astarion have to stifle a smile of his own. You reluctantly grabbed his hand, appreciating the help. It dawned on you, you were feeling quite weak. The hatch to the cellar is right there, but the thought of traversing down the ladder made you feel… uneasy.

(I’ll die anyway, girl in red)
Astarion, following your stare, realized why you were hesitating. Always full of surprises, he crouched down in front of you, his back facing you. You were full of confusion.

“What are you…” you trailed off, not finishing the question.

“Climb on my back,” he explained.

“Are you nuts? I’m way too heavy, especially if you’re going to carry me down the ladder,” you protested instantly. You were sure he was quite strong but not that strong. It was one thing to have a heavy backpack on your shoulders, but a whole person had to be pushing the limit. A scoff comes out of him. He gestured with his arms for you to continue forward anyway. He must be insane. You figured, getting on his back won’t kill him. If he can stand with you on him, he’ll realize it’s too much and won’t break both of you trying to carry you down a ladder.

Tentatively you stepped closer, realizing just how close you would be to him. You’re glad he’s not facing you because your entire face has gone red. Carefully you put one leg around his hips and your arms around his neck. You didn’t want to swing your other leg over and commit to putting your full body on him. Sensing your hesitation, Astarion put his arm behind him and picked up your other leg from under your knee. In one swift motion you were wrapped around his back, all weight on him. You were sure he would struggle.

Instead he stood with ease, as if you were the weight of a baby. Your eyes were as wide as saucers. Like the last time you were fatigued beyond your means, he took you to his bed. He dropped you off by crouching and letting you slip off onto the side. When he turned to face you, you took care to study his expression. Sometimes it was very easy to know what was going on inside his head. This was not one of those times. There was only true neutrality. Inside he was fighting to keep all of his emotions contained. The melancholy of separating from Tav, the lasting effects of the battle, the burrowing and festering feeling known as love.

( https://open.spotify.com/track/44CsOJZAK7AOwsy45HwV1D?si=004e70b8520b43ab )
On the other hand you were trying not to let the dread swallow you whole. Having an episode wasn’t a death sentence, but it felt like a sign you weren’t getting better. How many more nights could you take like this? This is an endless ocean filled with sharks and you are their prey. Fighting to stay above water, but fighting to be free from the sharks. A double edged sword where each end has you bleeding. As your thoughts spun around inside your head, you felt yourself dissociating from the moment. There is this sense of wondering what your purpose is. If there is a purpose to be had. Your fingertips press into the soft mattress, trying to ground yourself into the present. You are somewhere else. Somewhere between now and the inside of your mind. If it were tangible, it would look like the bottom of the well. There are an infinite amount of metaphors to describe this. They fit, but not quite right. Nothing will paint your picture just right. At least, that’s how it felt. The bottom of the well where no one can touch you. Where the pain and emotions are too strong for anyone to breach. Each breath was strangled and slow. Suddenly you felt hands on your shoulders.

Astarion’s face was close to yours, not for romance. Not for flirtation or teasing. He was close to be near you. To try to reach out to that pain. A pain that he knew well. One that was much stronger and infinite. Being trapped in isolation where the reality was the same as the mind. Dark, empty, unforgiving. So many nights and days where he would stare at the wall until there was no wall. Until there were no feelings, no love, no pain. Separating himself from his body as much as possible. He gripped your shoulders hard enough to cause pain. To make you wince and stare back at him. Pulling you out of the endless murk of depressive thought. He would not offer you an optimistic thought, but he would be here.

“Stay with me,” he whispered softly, making your skin tingle. “You’re right here.”

He didn’t want to say that it was going to be okay, because it might not be. Your eyes fluttered closed. Trying to find your place back in this bed, back in this moment. A thousand different thoughts muffled together making a single silent sound. A contradiction that only the broken could understand. His hand found one of yours, that was gripping the sheets desperately.

“For once, I can’t tell what’s going on in there, would you let me in?” he asked tentatively.

“What if I never get better?” You broke your own silence, opening your eyes and meeting his stare. He sighed a little, looking down then back at you.

“Then you have to start a new life, instead of trying desperately to find your old one. But I speak from experience when I say, new lives can be good too.”

You both smiled. A new life. What would that mean? Maybe you’ve been living this new life for a long time. Not much has to change, just the acceptance. Being born again with new priorities, new dreams, new love, new expectations. Living without being in constant pursuit of something better. Give up the concept that you are sick and need to be healed, but instead that you just lack what some others have. Accept the pain as a part of this new life, and focus elsewhere. You felt that there would be a lot of freedom in no longer constantly waiting and wanting more.

“Maybe I will live a new life,” you offered.

Noticing the closeness between the two of you, Astarion withdrew quickly. He stood up and went towards the ladder.

“Would you like another book?” he asked.

“Yes please.”

When he returned, he held a book that wasn’t very much worn. No one had read this one much. He went to hand it to you but you stopped him.

“Will you read it to me?”

“Oh no darling, I’m a librarian not a performer.”

“Oh really? With your theatrical nature I’m surprised you’re not.”

“Pfft, you’d be bored to sleep if I actually tried.”

“I could use the rest, go and try it.”

He gave you an exasperated look. There was no winning this. He motioned for you to scoot over to the side to make room for him. You clapped with excitement and scooted, then pulled the covers over yourself. That scent that had become so familiar was comforting. Astarion the vampire who smelled of flowers and brandy instead of undeath. The man of contradictions who would smile when you least expected it. Who was sweet when you needed it most. Loving and tender to the point of heartache. It was getting harder and harder to deny your emotions.

Laying next to you above the covers, a healthy distance between the two of you, he opened the book and began reading. He opted to use a soft neutral tone, reading just as you would expect a natural storyteller would. It was total bullshit, him not being theatrical or a performer. It was his long lost calling. The story was about a young knight who was told of an enchanted ruby dust that could save his mother from death. No one had survived the journey to acquire the dust, but he was determined. On his journey he meets an elven archer who needed the ruby dust for her baby brother. They agreed to aid each other on the journey together. Astarion looked sad as he read and you couldn’t quite understand why.

As the story progressed, your eyes fluttered closed. You fell asleep to the sound of his voice. When he stopped, and was sure you wouldn’t wake up, he tucked you in. Every fiber of his being told him /not/ to do this, lest he get caught in the act. But his heart overtook him. He leaned over your sleeping frame and left a soft kiss on your forehead. It felt necessary to send you off to sleep this way. Feeling overwhelmed with himself, he left you to rest and went back up to the bookstore.

Chapter Text

Your flare did not last as long as you anticipated. This could be because of the potions or it could be a coincidence. The truth was somewhere in between. Both Halsin and Astarion were pleased to see you back in action, sorting books and making potions.

This dusk, you were working with Halsin to make your healing potions. The unspoken implication was that, if these were your cure, you’d need to know how to make them yourself. Well, maybe not need…but if you were to live a life beyond this clinic, that would be the case. Once again you were caught up in your head. It scared you to think about the future. As much as you hated the present, the future was a bigger beast. What would you do for a living? Where would you go? Would you return home? You pictured the grove, your family, the trees and the coastline, the peaks where you could stare off into the horizon, the place that seemed so big yet so small. Emerald Grove. If you were going to go back, you don’t think you’d stay. It would only be to experience nostalgia, the feeling of home. Memories of the grove were not very fond but they weren’t all bad either. You were once a child who did not know loss or grief; and she would want to see the place she called home again.

Silently, you decided no matter what happened, you would not separate from Halsin and Astarion. You might be somewhere else physically, but you would never see yourself forgetting them. They are part of your life forever. What they have done for you, the time you have shared, was priceless.

Halsin leaned down to be at the same level as you.

“You’re lost in thought, it suits you,” he complimented. Instinctively you laughed. The idea of one of your less than stellar qualities appearing attractive, was amusing.

“Oh but I don’t think it does,” you retorted sarcastically. He eyed you questioningly, not getting the joke.

“I mean, my thoughts don’t always suit me,” you explained further. A dawning of realization played on his face. His hand caressed your cheek, only mildly catching you off guard.

“I’m sorry love, don’t let your thoughts burden you,” he comforted. Your feelings were conflicting. On one hand, his affection was something you sought desperately. On the other hand, it might not be his affection specifically that you were seeking. Images of Astarion flickered through your mind. A sharp sigh escaped you as you stepped away from the alchemy table. Right now isn’t a good time to be brewing.

Halsin approached you, his figure towering over you. It wasn’t intimidating, but comforting. As if all the darkness surrounding you would have to run from all the warmth he gave. What you wanted was a hug. Instead, Halsin offered a kiss. You did not resist. This was not out of fear, it was simply because you didn’t know what you wanted. It was hard to say no to Halsin because he was perfectly sweet. His hands holding you, his lips against yours. The emotion surrounding his kiss was deep, intense. Your arms stayed held up against your chest.

Sensing your hesitation, Halsin retreated.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” He asked, worry displayed on all of his features.

You shook your head in response.

“No Halsin, I just,” you paused trying to find the right words. “I don’t know what I want.”

He smiled softly at you.

“Well, just know this,” he said. “I want whatever you want, and if that is not me, I am content. I would even be alright with sharing you. As long as you are happy and loved.”

The words, although simple, were so sweet. Your eyes nearly watered at them. At the very least, your worries were not as heavy. Deciding what you want can be difficult and the last thing you’d want is to hurt someone who you care about. Knowing that Halsin is at peace with whatever you choose, is a relief. He is a fluid lover, whatever happens, happens. It was not an empty reassurance, he meant it completely. As an avid follower of Silvanus, he just loves love.

Knowing more about what was flowing through your brain, Halsin then wrapped you in a tight embrace. His chin rested on top of your head, and his arms rubbed your back. This was the comfort you were seeking. You melted into his embrace, wrapping your arms around him as tight as you could manage. You knew no matter how tightly you squeezed he wouldn’t be hurt. This, whatever it would turn out to be, was true love. A caring that required no payment, no reward, no transaction. It simply. Was.

Feelings much better about your situation, you returned to the downstairs bookshop. There were plenty of things to be done, especially since you’d taken a day off. You and Astarion didn’t talk much, since you were both focused on tasks. He decided to organize the scroll cabinet since he acquired a few from the hag’s lair. It was peaceful and put you in better spirits than you had been as of late.

When dawn began approaching, you both headed into the cellar. Normally it was nice and cool, but today it felt quite warm. Debating on what to do, you decided to strip down more than you normally did. You were left with a loose top and only your underwear. Feeling embarrassed about it, you quickly covered yourself up with a sheet. If Astarion noticed he didn’t say anything directly. He stood in the center of the room, reading a book about something you couldn’t quite make out in the dim light. It was hard to relax and sleep with him standing there. Your eyes kept wanting to wander to him. Eventually you spoke up.

“Are you going to stand there all morning?” You asked, not making eye contact. It seemed of vital importance that you remained focused on your fingernails right now.

“And what would you do if I did?” He immediately quipped, turning a page as if in spite of you.

“I’d find it awfully hard to sleep.”

“Is my beauty that distracting?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. The answer was yes but you were peeved at his inability to stop joking around. Despite your enjoyment of his banter, you were actually wanting to sleep. Deploying the strategy of “don’t let him get to you”, you shifted your body towards the wall and didn’t grace him with a response.

(Bad idea! Girl in red)
This annoyed him. He wanted to play around more. He closed the book and plopped down on a dresser and approached your nook, crouching right in front of you.

“Oh pet, don’t give me the silent treatment now,” he nearly purred at you. This was a game he was very experienced with. Normally the end goal was power, but he wasn’t interested in that. No, he wanted to make it known…You were the prize.

The usage of the word pet made you feel shamefully warm, and you refused to look at him.

“Astarion believe it or not, not everything is a joke,” you mumbled.

“Who said I was joking?”

You ignored him and restarted your silent treatment. He chuckled and stood up.

“If you’re so keen on ignoring me I suppose I’ll be taking this back,” he trailed off and quickly snatched the top sheet that you’d taken long ago. Instead of staring at you in your embarrassment, he sauntered away. This was a chance for you to stay in place, tell him he took it too far, not let him get to look at you. But you were willing to play the game. You hopped off the couch and rushed after him, attempting to tug away the sheet from his grasp. He turned to face you, and easily overpowered you. With one tug you were pulled against his chest. Only the top sheet separating your skin. You stared at him, his lips ever so slightly parted, his dark red eyes eating you alive. The calm before the storm.

(CONTENT WARNING - it’s about to get a little spicy, NSFW)
Within seconds the sheets dropped, his one hand holding your jaw and neck and the other grasping your hair. The force of your kisses send you stumbling backward and he picks you up. Naturally your legs wrap around his waist. He twists and sits on the couch, you in his lap. Gods this has been a long time coming. He tugged your hair, tilting your head to the side. His mouth finds its way on your neck. You expect him to bite, to feed, you wouldn’t protest. Instead you are met with soft licking from his tongue and soft nibble that doesn’t even break skin. You gasped at the sensations, gentle but desperate. His kisses trailed downward to your collarbone, then back to your mouth. Without much thought your hips grinder against him, wanting more.

Your top is swiftly discarded, his hands kneading your breasts. Your hands gripped his shoulders, the touch making you pant with arousal. He pinched and twisted your nipples which made you squeak in response. Again you kiss him and his jaw, but the moment is catching up with you. Your desperation to continue is palpable, but as his hands go to take your last piece of clothing off, you pulled away. He looked at you with an almost sorrowful confusion.

(CONTENT WARNING END)
“Wait,” you breathed. You’re not ready. What you have with Astarion, is not something you want to turn into a trashy quick fuck. You want it to be real. You want it to be beautiful. And you’re afraid. What if this /is/ just a trashy quick fuck to him? What if he thinks you’re just bored? The anxiety is catching up with you.

“Astarion I-I,” you stuttered. Unfortunately, the anxiety is not only yours. He is just as afraid. Truth be told, rushing into physicality wasn’t the smartest idea, given his history. He took his hands off you, and you stood and grabbed your top quickly. He feels defensive.

“I’m not sure what I want yet, there’s a lot going on and,” you paused, wanting to make sure your emotions get across correctly.

Astarion is quick to try to save face.

“Oh it’s fine, we were just having a bit of fun,” he attempted to find a safe space. One where is not hurt, where he is not vulnerable. Where you are not expected to do anything. The chord is not struck right. You feel a crack in your heart.

“Right,” you said carefully. A bit of fun. Nothing more. That’s all he wants. He’s a vampire for god’s sake. Of course he couldn’t love you. Life is frivolous to him isn’t it? Your mind is racing between contradictions of Astarion. His sweet tenderness towards you, his constant teasing, what did it all mean. Why couldn’t you just ask him?

He didn’t want to pressure you, but he didn’t want to pressure himself. He stood up and balled the top sheet, throwing it back on the purple couch. Without another word he laid in his own bed. You stood, stricken with awe. Was that it? Was that truly it? All the stirring inside of your chest that was aching to explode, all of that coming to life. You thought he felt it too. Didn’t he feel it too? You curled up on the couch in a fetal position, covering your mouth with your hand. You didn’t want him to hear you cry. He didn’t want you to see him cry. Both souls in love but so afraid. Terrified of pain, terrified of mistake. Only just a few feet away, a few words away. Those kisses were exactly what they wanted it to be. But fear and anxiety prevailed.

When you fell asleep, you had bad dreams. A thin layer of sweat covered your body. You dreamt of being trapped on the top of a mountain. There was a thunderstorm above you, and lightning bolts nearly missed you. The rain flooded the lands around you. It was only a matter of time before the water would reach you.

In reality you whined and writhed. Astarion, who had not fallen asleep, listened carefully to your sounds. It became clear you were having a nightmare. He didn’t know magic or any kind of aid that would take you out of the nightmare. But he could not stand to hear your pained and fearful noises. Tiptoeing out of his bed and over to your haunted frame, he decided to whisper to you the story he told you before. He didn’t want to wake you up, he didn’t want to break the facade. Only just to offer your dreaming self some comfort. And it did work. His soft voice seeped into your dreams, and calmed your body. Within the nightmare the water stopped rising, the lightning calmed. You were alone on the mountaintop, but heard voices with you. Suddenly aurora borealis streaked the gray skies above you. You thought the whispering was spirits of the sky, saving you from the flood.

But it was him. Caring for you despite his desperate fear of being hurt. Taking risks where he felt he shouldn’t.

Would you or Astarion ever get over it and finally talk?

Chapter Text

The lack of banter that you once thought was infuriating made you feel empty. This went both ways. How do you start a conversation now? How do you act like everything is okay? But how do you patch up what happened? Caught in miscommunication you were pushed further from the vampire. Needing someone to be there for you, you drifted towards Halsin. There was a small feeling of guilt, as if you were using him to replace Astarion. That was only half true. While your heart craved Astarion, you were not disingenuous with your affections towards Halsin. Both of them were in your heart, just one more than the other. And that was the source of your guilt.

You never went far with him, and he was content with that. He respected your wishes. Deep down, Halsin had a feeling you were not quite there. Knowing everything that you were feeling and going through, he cared enough about you to be there for you while this happened. Some days you would climb out the cellar and lay on top of Halsin to sleep. The bed was a bit too small for the both of you, but he was so large that you fit on top of him. At his heart, Halsin was a caregiver.

You woke to the feeling of his hand brushing through your hair, your body ached slightly. If you stayed like this, he wouldn’t be able to get up. That sinking feeling of dread begged you to stay in bed all day, but you wouldn’t force him to stay with you this long. With a groan and exaggerated effort, you shifted off of him and stood up. He chuckled at the sight of you.

“I would’ve lifted you if it was that difficult,” he stated, only half joking. You shook your head in response.

“No, it’s better I try myself,” you responded. It wasn’t long after that he stood too, kissing the top of your head and casting the usual healing spell on you. You smiled softly and helped him make your potion. Halsin’s affections and care were much appreciated, but you certainly felt you were lacking in friends. You couldn’t talk to anyone about the confusing emotions you felt. You didn’t feel right to talk to Halsin about what happened with Astarion. An ache settled in the front of your head. Today was going to be long and difficult, emotionally and physically.

After drinking your potion you refused breakfast, which made Halsin give you a worried look. He knew you were struggling but didn’t know how to help. When you noticed the pain expressed on his face, you felt even more guilt tugging at you. Not only were you practically using him, you were hurting him by making him worry about you. The situation was not as cut and dry as you felt it was at that moment. Regardless, you would beat yourself up for it anyway. It was easier to blame yourself and push away the emotions, than to try to decipher and face the situation. Even moreso, it was familiar. Old habits die hard. And you had a habit of self deprecation.

You assured the elf that all was well, that you would be fine, and hurried downstairs. As if you could escape the uncomfortable feelings. Instead you were going from one uncomfortable situation to the next. Astarion stood leaned against the counter as he usually did, staring deeply at the words of a book. Instinctively you looked to see what book it was. History of the Greatest Mages. Pretty typical for him. You found yourself studying him and his expressions. When he turned his head to give you a bitter look, you quickly stared back at your books. As your eyes left him, he felt exasperated. He wasn’t sure why he was treating you with such malice. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was him who had moved too fast, brushed you off when you weren’t ready.

He rested his book on the desk for a second and sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

You were shocked at his apology and shifted in uncertainty.

“What for?” you asked.

“For making you uncomfortable, I know you’ve been close with Halsin. I shouldn’t have pushed you,” he explained.

You shifted more. Did he still mean what he said about it just being for fun? You were scared to ask.

“It’s okay, I’m not very good with expressing my emotions,” you stated, now playing with your hands.

He wondered what emotions you meant. Emotions like, not wanting him? Wanting Halsin instead? Astarion tried to think about what to say next. This was new territory to him. Instead of finding the right words he ended up staying silent. You looked at him, trying to assess what he was feeling, but he wouldn’t meet your gaze. It hurt. To think that not only does he not feel the same way about you, but he doesn’t even want to be your friend at all. You sighed and stood up, leaving the table, and climbed down into the cellar. Right now you just wanted to be alone.

-
(https://open.spotify.com/track/3Mmt4wAMtWRmObAxbejpPe?si=974e9366c9dd488f )
When morning came around, and both Halsin and Astarion were asleep, you returned to the bookshop. You paced the floor. Guilt. Excruciating guilt and self doubt. The emotions were so strong that you couldn’t even manage to cry. You were spiraling. All you felt was that you shouldn’t be here. That you didn’t belong. You belonged back in those trees, high up where no one would find you, bleeding from wounds of your own ignorance.

Despite your previous lack of tears, they started to spill on their own accord. You didn’t sob, you didn’t weep, the tears just fell. Covering your face in their warmth. In this moment you were your own worst enemy, starting a battle that you didn’t need to start. Making an impulsive decision that no one wanted or needed. The darker side of your mind, that other you that only wanted to see you fail. To see you suffer. That was the prevailing voice. Telling you that you were truly using Halsin. That you were selfishly using their supplies. That Astarion hated you and your presence here was a scourge on something that was supposed to be pure. You gritted your teeth and grabbed the bag you came here with. Shoving clothes back in.
With soft steps, you went into the top floor and grabbed small pieces of food from Halsin’s stash. You grabbed vials and ingredients for your potion. The recipe wasn’t quite memorized but you felt confident enough you could recreate it. At home you would have to find the ingredients on your own. If you couldn’t recreate it, maybe it didn’t matter if you didn’t take it. Much use it was to you anyway, you had thought bitterly. You wished they slept during the night, traveling during the day wasn’t your preference.

Before you left you looked at Halsin sleeping. Before the guilt could catch up to you, or the reasoning that would make you stay, you headed out. You left the key on the counter and locked the door behind you. No going back now.

You’d take the path towards Rivington and make your way back to the underdark. It was strange to be around so many people in the city. You weren’t used to seeing so many faces surrounding you. Most of your time outside was during the night or very early morning when there weren’t so many present. There were stands with sellers yelling prices and products available. Stores lined the block with beggars shoved into the thin alleyways. When it started to feel overwhelming, you stared down at your feet, examining the dirt-caked cobblestones. The hairs on your neck started to stand up. You brushed it off as anxiety being in the crowd. However, the further you walked, the more you felt like you were being watched.

(girl in blue, animal sun)
Innocently, you turned around to look and see if anyone had eyes on you. You saw nothing out of the ordinary. In the underdark it was easy to hide, it was easy to see if something was out of the ordinary. Here there was so much going on, there wasn’t a way to keep track of all the details. You wondered if you should hide somewhere or stick to back alleys for travel. That would isolate you from the crowd though. Clenching your fists in anxiety you continued forward.

Suddenly, in the shadows of the alley in front of you, you saw what appeared to be Astarion, beckoning you. His white hair was easily seen under his hood, his pale skin peaking out. What was he doing out of the cellar? Your panic overtook your reasoning, he needed to get inside. The shadows of the alley would keep him safe but for how long? As Astarion went further into the alley, you chased after him. This alley was long, making a network of backstreets. A deep intuitive feeling in your core told you, you need to run away. Go back to the clinic. Get out of here.

Not trusting your instincts, you continued, trying to find where your vampire friend had gone. You saw wisps of his white hair quickly pass your vision in a different alley. Quickly, you made your way there. Only then you were met with a dead end. Wondering where he had gone, you began to turn around.

Before you could fully turn an arm wrapped around your neck and a hand covered your mouth. Muffled cries escaped you as you thrashed. You wished you had more strength. With your mouth covered you couldn’t attempt any spells or wildshape. Currently, you don’t think you would’ve been able to anyway.
A harsh voice that sounded like it could’ve used a good throat clearing whispered in your ear. It made your skin crawl. You felt like you needed to immediately take a bath to wash off the disgusting feelings the voice elicited.

“You’re awfully chummy with that vampire, I bet he would come looking for you hm?”

You tried swinging your legs back to kick him, but his stance was too wide. If anyone saw you like this, they didn’t bother to help. You gnashed your teeth against the skin on his palm, but to no avail. Instead you tasted salt and dirt that you wished you could spit out. Frustrated with your behavior, you heard another voice whisper an incantation you thought you might’ve recognized. In moments your vision was blackened and your consciousness stolen from you.

( https://open.spotify.com/track/4X00YoOQUD49hwdXmWBXHM?si=401002c6fab0444d )

When you woke up you couldn’t make out where you were. Perhaps it didn’t really matter. Your eyes wildly scanned your surroundings, trying to assess the situation. What was going to happen? The light was dim, but it seemed you were underground somewhere. Ironic, you had thought. Flags with red and a gold sun were staked in the dirt. Your hands were bound behind you and your feet were too. It seemed you were on against a thick pole, probably wooden. In the center of the area was a stone statue of a man with a golden cape holding a golden sun. Appropriate for a group of vampire hunters, you supposed.

A man approached you, and when he spoke you recognized him as the man who took you. He wore a necklace with the same symbol that was on the flags surrounding the area. The dark circles on his eyes seemed to spell out “unhinged maniac” for you. That and the kidnapping. You knew vampire hunters existed, since vampires preyed on the weak. But in knowing Astarion, the spawn that visited the clinic, you knew that the only vampire villains were full blooded vampires. Astarion wasn’t one of them, they should know this. They knew he saved Baldur’s Gate from the absolute, but they still wanted to kill him. That was clear evidence that these people didn’t operate with much consciousness or logic.

“You will need to be purged, but that will come later,” he spoke. You really wished he would cough. When you looked at him, you made sure to give as much disdain as you could muster. If you could, you would’ve spat on him. “We are Lathander’s chosen, disciples of the morning sun.”

You said, muffled and warbled by the gag in your mouth, “obviously.”

“We are here to cleanse the darkness from the world, and the undead with it. Your friend is an abomination. You are riddled with his filth,” he explained. You wished you could plug your ears. Show any sign of hatred besides the glare you showed him. If you had left a letter behind, telling Halsin and Astarion you were going home, they might’ve thought you weren’t missing. But now the possibility of them looking for you was much higher. Though this Lathander cult might’ve sent word themselves of your kidnapping so they would need to come for you. They might have opted for fire believing it to be holy or from the sun that Lathander represents. You struggled against the bindings, feeling the burn of them rubbing against your wrists. Not only that, your body ached far worse than it had this morning. At least you were able to get some sleep, albeit it against your will.

As much as you wished he would stop talking, he did not. Something about cultists having an irresistible urge to go on and on about their gods.

“With Lathander’s light and blessing we will use holy fire to burn the evil away. Had we succeeded with our first attempt, the abomination’s lair would’ve sung flames to the dawn’s sky,” he looked up at nothing but the ceiling, but you figured he was looking towards the sun in his mind. You offered him nothing but a disgusted look.

“The vampire has filled your mind with filth, and taken you away from the path of light. Our god has pity on your plight. We only hope that his cleansing fire will be kind to your skin. When your spawn comes to rescue you, you will only be ashes. Free of sin,” he spoke with such conviction. When his words caught up with you, you realized his intention. You are a false ransom. He planned to kill you before anyone could come to save you. They wanted to kill him and Halsin the moment they came here. Your mind raced, how many spells can you cast without speaking? Ice knife, thunderclap, spells you weren’t good at, spells you’re not sure could fix the situation. Control flames. You can control flames. You could extinguish the flames. You remember learning this when you were young. It was only for non magical fires. You simply had to hope and pray that they would light your pyre with a torch and not a spell.

The spell required only a simple gesture, one that you’re unsure you could do with your hands bound. While the cultist was speaking, you practiced the movements. They were clumsy and you weren’t sure they would work. You would need so much luck for this to go through. Regardless it was likely you’d come out with some burns. Acolytes poured wine around you and then doused you with it. The smell made you sick. Trying desperately to undo your bindings, you were still unable to get yourself free. If the spell could not be cast with your hands bound, you might have to let the fire burn off the bindings. With the alcohol on you, you’d be burned quite quickly.

(CONTENT WARNING - a little self explanatory what’s coming, fire, burn, sorta torture-esque)
If someone could feel relieved about flames about to come burn them alive, it would be you who saw the acolytes take a torch to the alcohol. Though you knew it would only be seconds before the flames would eat the wood surrounding you, and then yourself. With desperation you squeezed your eyes shut and made the motions and intent to control the flames. Extinguish. Please. The heat grew immensely. You could hear the crackling of the remaining dry parts of the wood. Holding back the urge to scream, knowing the real terror was the pain that was going to come. The hand movements were not working, the flames were not going out. Your boots were leather, and although the fire lit on the alcohol, it didn’t burn as bad as it did when it hit your pants. The fabric quickly caught fire, searing the skin beneath it. No longer could you hold back screaming. Your eyes watered as the pain crawled up your legs to your hips and torso.
With adrenaline fueling you, you nearly broke your wrists from the amount of fight you were trying to break apart the bindings. Another pull, and you actually did break one of your wrists. The left one. It didn’t pop out of the bindings, but loosened them. It would be much more painful to control the flames. But as your arms began to burn, the smell of your own flesh nauseating you, the fabric burned away. A gasp escaped you and your arms flew in front of you, acting on muscle memory. The movements were fluid despite your wrist being out of place and so painful. Within seconds the flames were gone, only smoke around you. Your pants were nearly burned off, your shirt tattered. You fell to the floor in near exhaustion. Consciousness was hard to hold on to as the pain surmounted any you had ever felt before. You could see that little remained of your flesh on your legs.

As the lead cultist barked orders at the acolytes, they surrounded you and gathered more rope to retie you. As your eyes started to flutter close, your vision filled with starry spots, you heard yells in the distance. Wanting so desperately to see the situation, you hung on a little longer. A bear’s roar echoed throughout the underground chamber. You let out a wheezing cough.

“You guys are fucked.”

Chapter Text

Blood splattered against the ceiling. Arrows flew throughout the air, piercing through bodies and exploding icicles in the air. Your eyes are enthralled by the sight. Astarion is a flurry throughout the room, ripping through bodies like paper. Halsin follows behind, clawing remains of squirming masses. An acolyte calls out to his god, raising hands and attempting to cast a spell. Astarion’s daggers pierce both of his hands like he was preparing for crucifixion. As the blades tear out of the flesh, more crimson covers the pale canvas of his skin. There is a rich iron smell filling the room as life becomes death. Your broken wrist and burned hands twitched, begging to be able to help. It’s better to stay here. They don’t need the help.

For Astarion there is no fear, no thinking, only raw primal instinct. Each face started out as angry. Then twisted into desperation, prayers leaking out of their mouths followed by spluttered blood. There was no such thing as innocence, only those who had hurt you. And those who had hurt you, deserved every bit of pain. Thrusting his signature dagger into a man’s chest, he looked up from the bodies and past the enemies for a moment. Lying broken in partially charred wood, your body is in his line of sight. He saw your raw legs, your wrist that was bent unnaturally out of place, your tearstained face, a stare that was barely hanging on. And now he was seeing red. Feeling angrier than he had before, if that was even possible. His skin felt numb, the warm spraying of viscera on his body was only background noise. Tears threatened to spill over. Blades continue to make countless of them fall. A battle cry rang out of his lungs as he casted a spell of ice knife, piercing and exploding near the center of the cave.

Cultists become like ants in the sight of Astarion and Halsin. Crushed under blades, spells, claws, and teeth on vicious jaws. The leader with the gravel voice and creepy eyes turned his attention away from you and summoned a darkness that had piercing cold leaking from it. He climbed on top of crates, escaping the cloud. Your body twitched and writhed, caught in the trim of it. The carnage in front of you was no longer visible. Yet the sounds of squelching and crunching were still audible. If the pain that was eating you alive wasn’t so intense, you might’ve felt pity for the people who were dying. It was against your nature to revel in massacre, but you couldn’t help it. Your joy dissipated as you watched the leader cast spells into the dark cloud, you only hoped he missed. A string of unfamiliar words, but surely spoken by Astarion, rang out from the darkness.

The darkness dissipated and your eyes focused in front of you. You’re not sure how, but Astarion has the leader held up by his collar. There is a venom in his eyes you have never seen before. Something close to evil, but instead it is hatred. Hatred and fury. With blood coating nearly every inch, he throws the cultist like he is a piece of garbage. His body slammed into spare barrels of wine. Crumpled in pieces of sharp wood, likely already wounded, Astarion picked him up again. He spat in the villain's face before sinking his teeth deeply into the neck. A sickly wet crunching noise covers the room as you see Astarion rip the man’s throat out. All remaining parts of his face that were not covered in blood, were now soaked. With another spit, the man’s jugular is on the ground. His body dropped back into the wine barrel, Astarion whispers.

“Ignis.”

In a satisfying irony, the cultist spends his last moment choking on his own life force and burning alive. You should feel afraid, you should feel disgusted. Maybe it’s the delirium from all the pain, but you aren’t afraid. You are impressed. The absolute ruthlessness of Astarion filled you with a feeling you could not identify. He was protecting you.

With only a breath to come back down to reality, Astarion rushed towards you. His eyes furiously scanned over your wounds, concern and sorrow filling his features instantly. You looked like you were only a few steps away from death.

“Halsin!” Astarion barked, a slight crack in his voice. The telltale crackling of Halsin shifting echoed against the walls. There was no need for any other words, he knew what needed to be done. The components of a higher level healing spell flowed through you as Halsin casted it. Your burned flesh restored itself, your wrist popped back into place. There was an ache that remained, one that you knew exactly where it came from. You sighed out in relief, as most of the excruciating pain was gone. And you were alive.

Astarion’s wet bloodstained hands grabbed the sides of your face, holding your gaze at him. You saw his eyes glistened, with tears spilling over the edge of his lids. It was the first time you had ever seen him cry. With labored breathing, he choked out words.

“Never, do that again. Never let them get their hands on you. Don’t let them touch you, do you understand me? Please,” his tone began stern but faded into desperation. Desperate to convey to you that you were important to him, and he would give anything in this world not to lose you. You stared at him, half exhausted, half in awe. There were no doubts for you anymore. It was Astarion or nothing. No half assed attempts to cover the pain, to cover the growing love for him. It was him.

Softly smiling, you wiped tears and blood away from his face. He gave you choked laughter in response.

“I’m supposed to be comforting you, aren’t I?” he teased, recalling when he wiped your tears before.

“I guess it’s instinctual, wiping people’s tears,” you offered. You paused. “How did you find me? Where are we?” You asked. It seemed wherever it was it was secluded, and wouldn’t have been easy to find.

“They sent a ransom note, detailing your location. Idiots,” Astarion explained. You nodded in agreement. They were idiots.

“Isn’t the sun still out?” you asked another question.

“Yes, but I don’t get hurt if I stick to darkness and shadows. I had a cloak on but threw it off once we got underground.”

You were slightly surprised he hadn’t teased you for the amount of questions you had, but the situation might’ve not called for teasing. It was moving, imagining Astarion desperately shifting and running underneath awnings and going through dark alleys. Terrified, vulnerable, but determined. There was no reason to put him through that again.

“We will stay here until sundown then,” you insisted. This place might not be the safest, however you doubted there were many cultists left. If they see the bodies and blood leading down to you guys, they might even just turn around and leave. Halsin looked hesitantly at you.

“You should be brought home to rest,” he argued. His argument was most likely founded in seeing Astarion surviving moving under shadows plenty of times. This idea didn’t sate you.

“Well I should rest before making the journey home,” you countered with a smug smile on your face. You knew this argument would be won quickly, seeing as you were the victim at the moment. Halsin bristled but nodded.

“Then I will keep watch at the entrance and tell you when the sun is down,” he stated before turning and walking out towards the mouth of the cave. Astarion and you watched him leave, as if he would somehow explode on the way. Nothing felt quite safe. When he was out of view, Astarion plopped next to you, both of you resting against burnt wood. The moment could’ve been awkward, but it wasn’t. It was soft. Tentatively, he took your hand and gave it a squeeze.

“You left, didn’t you?” he asked quietly.

At first you said nothing. There wasn’t any way he could’ve known you had left, besides the fact your bag was missing. The fact he would have noticed such a small detail and be able to realize you weren’t initially kidnapped, meant he was paying attention. How much had he noticed? He noticed you and Halsin. He noticed where your clothes were and your bag. He noticed when you pushed through your pain, when you were tired and in pain. The only thing he couldn’t notice was how much you cared for him too.

“I was tired of taking from you both. I was tired of my feelings getting the better of me,” you tried to explain. You felt small. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Astarion’s eyes scanned over you curiously. He looked more confused than anything.

“Burden? Darling, you are far from a burden. To me or Halsin. You give just as much as you take if not more,” he defended you. You couldn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t know who taught you that asking for help means being a pest. But that’s not so.”

His hand softly turned your head towards him. You expected some bit of anger, but it was just a firm look. Almost similar to when he told you never to let the hunters get you. Well, maybe he didn’t mean the hunters specifically. Moreso, any enemy.

Feeling satisfied with the sincerity he conveyed, he dropped his hand from your face. Following habit, your eyes shifted back towards the ground. The words had to make you think. You tried to mull over them, take in their truth. Needing help did not make you a burden. As you repeated the words in your head, you struggled to feel them. So you repeated it. You squeezed your eyes shut and repeated it over and over again, with Astarion’s intense stare paired with them. You are not a burden. You are not a burden.

Letting out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding in, you leaned against Astarion’s frame.

“I’m taking a nap,” you whispered. If you had opened your eyes you would’ve seen his shocked expression. You didn’t care how he reacted. Keeping your eyes closed, sleep found you quickly. After all the pain and trauma of today, you were exhausted. Staring down at your slumped frame against him, he wrapped a tentative arm around you. Although you were already asleep, he hummed a tune like a lullaby.

-
You awoke to Astarion shifting and Halsin entering the cave. The idea of staying here seemed less appealing in hindsight, as you could smell the thick iron that accompanied the bodies. Part of you thought about the fact that no one would clean this up. They would decompose alone here. Satisfying.

“The sun is down,” Halsin announced. It felt like there was no time at all. You stood and stretched. Looking down at yourself, you saw you had dirt and ash coating what remained of your clothes. Both of them were also covered in blood. It would probably be a good idea to clean up. You’d also probably need new clothes, your pack was nowhere to be found.

“Can we go rinse off?” you asked, shifting nervously. Astarion gave you a nervous look, almost embarrassed.

“Well we can’t go to the Chionthar,” he trailed off, looking at the ground. You tilted your head.

“Why not?”

“Running water,” he said, a bit exasperated. After seeing your confusion not leaving your face, he scoffed. “Vampires can’t go in running water dear.”

“Oh,” you said, feeling embarrassed yourself now.

“There is an inn that offers baths though, might be nicer than the cold water,” he attempted to remedy the situation.

It was childish, but you liked the idea of splashing around in the river with your best friends. After all the pain and agony, this day that could’ve been your last, would’ve been nice to end with something silly and lighthearted. Your cheeks heated for a moment as you contemplated sharing a bath. That wouldn’t work anyway and you didn’t think it appropriate at this time. You agreed to the compromise of bathing at the inn’s baths. Since those places had seen all kinds of adventurers, your crispy clothes and bloodied bodies probably wouldn’t draw that much attention.

Astarion was right too, the warm water was nice. Scrubbing dirt and ash from your body with a lavender scented soap, you felt outrageously cleansed. You’d even managed to get a brush to your hair for the first time in awhile. When you dried off and went downstairs to leave, the other two were already done. Not ones for relaxing you supposed.

The walk back to the bookshop was mostly silent. While you were grateful to be alive, back with those whom you loved, there was that feeling you couldn’t shake. You knew the aching was not from being in binds. The healing spells would’ve taken that away. It was your condition. It was deeper than this entire chaotic day. You were burying it under all of the commotion. Halsin and Astarion were addled at the cult’s actions, worried about you, and worried about the future. They wanted to keep you safe. When you entered, you still had that feeling of being out of place. Like it wasn’t quite your home. You descended down into the cellar, Astarion close behind you. Both of you ready to sleep.

As you curled up on your sofa, you knew one thing to be true. You knew what you wanted. You were going to tell Halsin what you wanted. Telling Astarion was another thing, you weren’t ready. If he rejected you, things would change. Like that night. You didn’t want to risk losing him and your friendship again. Not only that, you’re still wrestling with the knowledge that you are not cured. You may never be cured. That new life may be your only option. It terrified you.

Chapter Text

Cogs of the machine that was the nighttime clinic and book store, attempted to return to their usual spots. Even though mostly everything remained in its place, the dust still settled in the same spots, it was different. When your feet entered the dimly lit entrance, the air was heavy. Thick and all consuming reality. You tried to examine the place like it was your first time seeing it. Rafters with solid wood, cobwebs in corners out of reach, slightly darkened spots where stains had made home in the wood floors. Books organized well, but looking disheveled due to their wear and tear and the gaps that exposed the lack of stock. The ever encompassing smell of paper and dust. This place where you have grown considerably. Why does it feel so different?

Like those stains on the floor, you too have made this place a home. You remember the fear that rippled through your chest like a hurricane. Searing hot flames crawling up your body like snakes. How your breath ran out so fast. There was a good chance you wouldn’t have made it out alive. You didn’t understand what your purpose was. What divine intervention said that you needed to live through that moment? Did Lathander hate what the cultists were doing? Or was it something greater? Or maybe just a coincidence after all. Luck of the draw. A cruel twist of fate that you are left here to weigh your decisions, and suffer with your ailments. As emotions threatened to overwhelm, you clenched your jaw. There was something that you had to do.

With the events that came to pass, you had decided there in that cave that Astarion was the choice you needed to make. You owed it to Halsin to be honest with him. Even though the situation with you, him, and Astarion was only a fraction of the battle inside. It was at least one thing you could take off your list of problems to handle. Since the fellow Druid had already settled himself upstairs, you trudged up there to find him. There was no doubt this was the right thing to do, but it still felt wrong. It’s a sickly feeling. In truth, things would be much easier if he was the one you decided you loved. Halsin explicitly stated he would be happy for whatever choice you made, but somehow it felt like it wouldn’t be true. This was outside your realm of experiences. Reaching the top step, you saw him sat at the alchemy table, flipping through a book. Sensing your presence, he turned towards you. He beckoned you.

“Come, what do you need?” He asked, seeming concerned about your state of health. You sheepishly looked at the ground. Taking steps towards him, but refusing eye contact, you decided to sit at the small table you typically ate at.

“Halsin I have to tell you something,” you began, still not being able to make eye contact. You knew he deserved at least your gaze when you spoke your truth. So you spent the gap between words gathering courage. Holding your breath and looking at him, his kindness melted you. It made your guilt gnaw at your guts, yet you felt calmer somehow. There is a peace behind his eyes, almost like he might know what you’re about to say.

“I love you but,” you made sure the but was quickly added, as not to give the wrong impression. “My heart wants something selfish. It wants Astarion.”

You realized you were shaking as you said it. When the words came out it was an intense admittance. Something you’d barely come to accept. Teeth clamped against your lips so hard it broke the fragile skin. Crimson flavoring spilling towards your tongue. Yet you refused to cry. You are not the victim here. This is what you repeated to yourself. Halsin let out a soft chuckle, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his legs.

“The heart cannot be selfish,” he said with your name. “It is not selfish to know what you want and need. And I would be sick to my stomach to take you where your heart did not want to go.”

This time you let out a sour laugh. Feeling angry at yourself. Those sweet words like honey are always coming from Halsin. But maybe you are not like a bee. You do not feed on the sweet things, you are built from what is broken. To be more precise, you yearn to make connections with things that are like you. And make a fractured whole. Halsin already feels whole. Like he could live without you no problem. And maybe in a way it is toxic, the attachment you seek. But it is not one born out of malice. The heart of the matter is wishing to /grow/ with someone. Figuring things out with someone. Picking up the pieces and finding the answers together. You’d feel like a burden to Halsin. It’s not as though he hasn’t suffered in his life, but rather he has already healed from that suffering. It is an amazing pure thing that you wouldn’t dare dull.

“Thank you Halsin, for trying so hard to heal me,” your voice held steady. The chair scraped across the floor, squeaking in an unpleasant way. You meandered out toward the balcony, wanting to breathe the fresh air. You wanted to see the stars.

So you did. Leaning against the railing where you all had been not so long ago with your friends. Drunk and making wishes towards lifeless celestial bodies. Is anyone out there? Up in that sky? You knew about the astral plane, the fact there existed many things in the beyond. Gods and goddesses. But where exactly are they? There was an answer to this question that you didn’t have, and didn’t truly care to know. If they were up there in the vast sky, intertwined between specks of stardust, you didn’t care. You worshiped Silvanus but you were not sure you did any longer. Because if these gods existed, if they were here, why would they let such things happen? What sadistic people are they to just let misery live on? Your thoughts turned to Shar. At least she was honest about her intentions. As your knuckles turned white from gripping the balcony railing, anger and frustration bubbling up, the gods are fraudulent. All of them offer promises they will not keep. Silvanus the great oakfather who blessed his children with the shape of beasts.

(Pacific by Chase Petra, HIGHLY RECOMMEND!)
You were the black sheep disciple. What kind of god would shun a devout of his? You did the prayers. You did everything like you were told and yet here you are. When you try to reach into the pool of magic that is supposed to be your right, it curdles. It’s like same sided magnets, almost impossible to force together. Looking towards the half full moon, you let go of the railing. Backing away and making sure there was ample space around you, you made a silent bargain.

“Silvanus, if I’m still one of yours, grant me the strength to change form.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, those sickening crackling noises of your bones shifting filled the quiet night. You felt the breeze of his wind, the call of the wild. With every thought of yours being a thank you, you prayed. Fur lined your skin, a snout began to form. Just as your hopes were becoming reality, an aching weakness settled on your heart. The fur receded, the shapes returned, and not even a dog’s whine could’ve come from you. A strangled cry escaped you, as you fell to your knees. Partially in exhaustion, partially in emotion. Were you not good enough? And you cried it.

“Father, am I not enough? Are my cries too quiet? My heart not pure?” Your voice was quiet but staggered through sobs. They became louder as the acceptance flooded you. Oh god. It’s really true. There is no better life. There is no cure. Despite your grief pouring out into the night like a terrible song, there was some kind of relief. No more fighting. This is a battle that has no victory. You felt like you were every single soldier slain on the battlefield, but also the one who made it out alive. The one who waved the white flag. There is this immeasurable pain, much like the flames that burned you. Those dreams of being able to run and jump and be alive were only just dreams. Never able to come true. Your destiny was to be sick. Your destiny was to be tired. Maybe some people are put on this earth just to fill the empty spaces.

Between the sounds of your sobs, you heard the door to the balcony open. You had expected Halsin to tell you to shut up because he’s the one who just got dumped. Never looking away from the starry sky, cold arms held you tight. The smell that has become so familiar, a second home, fills your senses. It’s him. Astarion. He could probably hear your crying from wherever he was. As you tried to make yourself aware of what was happening, you realized he was behind you. Sat on the ground with his legs beside you, pulling you against his chest. His chin was almost on top of your head, and he was shushing you quietly. Rocking you back and forth as if you were a temperamental newborn.

(I Want to Live instrumental from BG3 soundtrack)
Despite the overwhelming calm he provided, it still took you a long time to relax. As your shaking slowed, and sobs became sniffles, you heard him hum quietly. It was a tune you couldn’t recognize. Some sort of lullaby. With his hands brushing your hair, the both of you rocking slowly back and forth, it was almost enough to put you to sleep at that point. You wondered where he had learned to soothe like this. With the way he described his life before you, he didn’t have any true loves beside Tav. Then a dreadful thought occurred. Is this how he soothed himself all those years? In isolation and torture? This made you straighten out and turn toward him. He looked shocked but mostly concerned. With your heartbeat seemingly in your throat, you stroked his cheek softly.

“Thank you,” you whispered. His smile was soft and worried.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

Just as nervous as you were, he held his breath out of apprehension, then gently pressed his forehead against yours.

Chapter Text

Astarion remembered that you wanted him to think of things he never had the chance to do before Cazador turned him. For the most part, coming up with these ideas was difficult. Trying to think of what you don’t know, essentially. After that night, with your foreheads pressed together, cloaked in innocent intimacy; another idea occurred to him. In all those years with the vampire spawn and the victims he lured, he went on many traditional dates. Dinner by candlelight, picnic in the woods, you name it. None of them were real though. All the sips of bitter wine and nibbling on hors d'oeuvres, were filled with melancholy easily masked by Astarion’s charade. He wanted to bring you to a real date. One where he didn’t need to feel like a cheap escort. The kind of thing they wrote about in those fiction books he never cared to actually read.

You sat at the counter reading a fiction book, the kind he never cared to read. When Astarion had disappeared off to the cellar you didn’t think much of it. However, your interest piqued when he handed you a small crisp envelope that wasn’t sealed. Eyebrows furrowing together, you looked to him for some sort of hint. Instead of words he motioned to you, encouraging you to seek out its contents.

Shaking your head, assuming this to be nonsense, you pulled out the folded paper that was tucked inside. Unfolding it revealed slick black ink, barely dry. Your eyes quickly scanned the words written.

“Dearest, would you give me the pleasure of your company next late evening for dinner and wine at Elfsong Tavern? It would be to my greatest appreciation to see you there. Yours truly, Astarion.”

It somehow seemed completely unlike him, but also just like him, at the same time. This kind of romantic gesture was one you weren’t wholly familiar with. With bright red cheeks, you grinned and nodded at him. It seemed despite him pretending to be completely interested in filing his nails, he too was sheepish.

“I didn’t think you the romantic,” you teased him, savoring the upper hand.

“Really? Then you must not know me at all,” he countered, flashing a smirk that just barely showed his stark white fangs. “But you will come won’t you?” A slight tilting of his head, showing a playful curiosity.

“Of course, only I have one slight concern,” you stated, earning a look of worry from Astarion. “I don’t really have anything nice to wear…”

A slight pause, but then he tilted his head back, letting out childish laughter. Feigning true anger you hit him with your book lightly.

“Why are you laughing!?” you questioned him.

“Apologies darling it’s just,” he sighed a little. “The thought never would have occurred to me either. I think you’re fine just the way you dress and well, I forget some of the traditions surrounding these things.”

Your shoulders sagged in relief. He’s not laughing at you, he’s laughing at himself. In all of his years of courting strangers to their death, he never would’ve recognized that a good percentage of them spent hours readying themselves beforehand. He usually didn't know the people he took to dinner well enough to realize they were in their Sunday best. While this sort of hindsight would normally elicit unpleasant feelings, it felt comical in this situation. How ridiculous it was to be over 200 years old and not realize people dress up for dates.

As the laughter subsided, Astarion rummaged through some drawers behind the counter. Pulling out a pouch that seemed to be filled with coins, he tossed it to you. Barely managing to catch it, you peered inside to see in fact it had gold coins. You shift uncomfortably at the idea of receiving money from him, but you say nothing. It’s clearly a gift.

“Go to the gate, Facemaker’s Boutique, say you’re a friend of mine. He will give you a discount, but there’s a lot of wonderful things you can take a look at there. Keep whatever’s leftover. A gift for you,” he spoke so smoothly, even though the sincerity was unfamiliar to both of you. Times like these you wished you had a friend who could accompany you. This isn’t all that unusual for you though. In fact it would probably be the first time in a while you’d be doing something alone. Besides the attempt at running away of course. You tried your best not to think about that.

With it being relatively early in the evening, it was still safe to head out into the city. You took the directions that Astarion told you, making your way toward the gate. With the cult of vampire hunters being almost entirely wiped out, you didn’t need to worry about many threats. It was actually pretty refreshing. The cobblestone was smoother here, much more foot travel. There were bustling voices and the hawker for the newspaper was still out. A kid like that should be home, perhaps this story wasn’t selling well. If the dress you decided on left you with enough change, maybe you would buy a few copies.

Looking up at the sky, trying to see the stars from the bustling city grounds, you flinched at a loud boom shaking the streets. No one else panicked, you remained calm. Instead the source became apparent. Whizbang’s was having a firework demonstration. They had done one once before, but you were busy sorting books, and they’re not very visible from the balcony. With slight impulse, you rushed towards the store. It was slightly off the path towards your destination, but it was worth it.

As another firework went off, you watched the colors explode in the night sky. Red, green, and blue dancing around forming shapes of bugbears and dragons. Another went off in the shape of a dryad.You noticed kids running around with sparklers, being hardly observed by their parents. You noticed in front of Sorcerer’s Sundries two figures with their arms around each other. As your eyes focused you recognized Gale, and what must be his partner. If you knew him better you might’ve said hi, but decided to let them enjoy the fireworks in peace.

Feeling that your curiosity was sated, you quickened your pace towards the large gate that was visible from here. Reading all the signs in front of each building on your way up, you finally noticed a square-like building that was your destination. It was mildly busy. You cursed internally at the remembrance that Astarion failed to inform you who “he” was or who “he” looked like. There were many store workers, but you had to assume that Astarion was referring to the store owner.

Approaching the front desk apprehensively, you spoke up.

“Hi, can I speak to the owner?” you asked, bracing yourself.

“Figaro is very busy, do you have an appointment?” the clerk responded, a tired voice with much apathy.

You paused.

“I’m uh, a friend of Astarion’s,” you tried. The clerk’s once empty eyes brightened up with shock.

“One of the saviors of Baldur’s gate? Why didn’t you say so!” he exclaimed. Gathering up a notebook and moving from behind the desk, he began to lead you further into the boutique. “I was there that day. When Orin’s pet tried to murder Figaro, we all almost lost our lives.”

You tried to hold your shock back, not wanting to seem like you were lying about knowing Astarion. He wasn’t great at sharing details and of course did not inform you he was responsible for saving this boutique and its owner from being murdered. Not helpful contextual information at all. Just needed to know about the discount.

The clerk opened a set of double doors which showed a large open room with certain pieces on display. Swiftly you were directed into a barber’s room with a dwarf who was at the station with no one else around. Busy. Hm. He turned and regarded the clerk with annoyance.

“I don’t think I have an appointment at this time Philip, so who am I looking at?” He was not looking at you.

“Ah, Figaro, this is a friend of Astarion’s!” he quickly exclaimed. Once the name left his mouth, Figaro immediately went through at least seven different emotions before turning to you. Another detail that Astarion failed to mention, one that you will not know, is that he has used this discount a multitude of times. Moreso than what most would deem reasonable. It was damn near blackmail the way he would waltz into the store picking whatever he felt best to take home and leaving bare minimum coin.

His expression softened at the sight of your gold pouch and timid nature. You certainly were not in the business of scaring dwarves into giving you as much merchandise as possible before it can be called thievery.

“Well lovely lady, how may I assist you?” He returned to his business persona.

“I’m looking for a nice dress, nothing insane but,” you paused. “Something you would wear to a nice dinner.”

His initial observations about you were correct. You were not intending on raiding this place. Figaro would not pry, but he had an inkling about what was going on. A younger lady with a coin purse that seems awfully heavy for her hands, hands that are not used to carrying this coin. She mentions the name of a dashing elf who has had no suitors thus far and requests a nice dress for a dinner. The puzzle pieces were right there for him to put together. If not for him harboring resentment toward said dashing elf, he would find the ordeal cute.

Stepping back and eyeing your figure, skin tone, hair tone, and all of your features together, he then went to collect some dresses from different wardrobes and mannequins around the boutique. Some of them you knew you’d have to say no to, others seemed like they would be fun to try on. The colors were actually around the same range, you figured he picked the shades based on how you looked. He held up his choices for you to look at.

“Just say yes or no, and the ones you like you can try on. I’ve got a good eye for size and these should be around yours. We can tailor any parts that don’t fit right,” he explained to you. As you went through the dress choices, you ended with three that you wanted to try. One was a velvet emerald green with very short cut sleeves. It had a leather corset in the center with a lower cut neckline. When you tried it on, Figaro was right about the sizing, it fit perfectly. You were a bit surprised about that. The feel of the velvet was nice, but the gown felt heavy.

The next gown was very nice, white with embroidered gold patterns. The neckline was similar to the last dress, low and straight across the chest. This one had longer sleeves however. You felt like royalty in it. That was the issue though, this dress would be too nice for what you were looking for.

The third and ironically the charm, was a lavender colored dress. It had a round swooping neckline with a string front lacing the top. The sleeves were longer and you could just barely see a light embroidery almost the same color as the main fabric. A small golden rope was tied around the waist as an accessory. It was perfect. Not too casual but not too formal. You felt that the colors suited you.

“A very fine choice miss, it seems that this one needs to be hemmed a bit shorter for you, but I can do that right now,” Figaro informed you. You changed back into your regular clothing and handed him the dress for tailoring.

“How much will that be?” you asked.

“100 gold pieces,” he said, testing the waters. Normally he would sell it for 150, for Astarion he would’ve begged 80. Astarion would probably have paid 50.

You had done bartering in the past as well as haggling, but not for pieces like this. You had no idea what market value was for something of this nature. Figaro was kind to you as well, so you didn’t want to risk offending him. Counting the coins in your pouch you handed him over the exact amount he asked.

Hiding his glee, he gratefully took the money before hemming your dress for you.

“Feel free to look around while I work, there are some accessories for sale too,” he commented as he headed to work on it.

As instructed you looked around, seeing bits and bobs. You never really did much with your hair, so you knew you wouldn’t be interested in hair pieces. Broaches seemed overpriced, rings easily lost. One silver necklace with a purple gemstone did catch your eye. The chain was simple and thin, the stone caught the light wonderfully. There were swirls of a cream color and darker purples. It would go wonderfully with the dress. The price was just 20 gold pieces so you counted out the amount and held both the coin and necklace in your hand.

Once Figaro was done altering, he handed you the dress in a burlap sack for slightly safer keeping. You exchanged the coin for the necklace and he bid you a farewell. Encountering your kind nature made him wonder if Astarion had gone soft.

-
Astarion informed you that he would go to the tavern ahead of you to make sure there would be a nice table waiting for you. He also wanted to be surprised by the dress you chose. When you were all dressed up, you were glad that your worn boots weren’t very visible. Not having any problems with them physically, you didn’t think about the appearance of them. Not until you were wearing your very new dress. Admittedly, even though this one was less fancy than the white and gold dress, you still felt quite noble. Druids in the grove weren’t ones for material objects, finding dirt to be just as beautiful as fabrics. Clipping the necklace around your neck as the final piece, you headed to the tavern.

It was quite busy and loud inside there. You noted several patrons giving you looks you had not remembered receiving in the past. Fearing you wouldn’t be able to find your date for the night, your relief was palpable when you caught a glimpse of his white hair, tucked away in a quieter corner.

When you approached the table, he quickly stood to greet you. His eyes scoured every inch of you like you were a priceless painting. Each detail was not lost on him.

“You look stunning love,” he stated. Then he softly grabbed your hand and planted a soft kiss on it. Almost a tale from a romance book. He pulled the chair out for you, letting you sit comfortably before pushing it towards the table. It was almost enough to make you giggle, since it was so cliche. But you knew this is what he wanted. He wanted to do all the picture perfect rituals that were used for so many sinister things. He wanted to give them new meaning. Instead of a horrible nightmare, it could be an adorning fantasy.

There was a bottle of wine already opened and a basket of bread. You noted that he had drunk a bit, but hadn’t really touched the food. He is a vampire after all and you weren’t sure he even could eat food. Not wanting to ruin the mood, you didn’t ask about it. After all, he was the one who chose dinner. Maybe food is just tasteless to him.

“Is it bad I don’t know what to talk about?” You half joked with him, grabbing a slice of bread, nibbling on it softly.

“We can talk about anything, I’ve had people who did nothing but talk, so I’m sure you really can’t go wrong,” he smiled reassuringly at you. You supposed going on several hundred fake dates over the course of centuries would make you find just how annoying some people can be.

“If you could be any animal, what would you be?”

“Typical druid…”

“Hey!”

You both laughed.

“But seriously, tell me, and it can be anything,” you insisted he answer. You were genuinely curious to know.

“Should I say a bat? Or is that too on the nose?” he continued to tease. Seeing your pouty expression made him sigh, and genuinely consider the answer. “Maybe I’d be some sort of bird. Flying seems useful.” (Or a goose…)

“I think I’d want to be a fox,” you answered your own question. Before you could explain, or ask another random question, a barmaid comes to take your order. Unsure what to do, since you’re not the one paying, Astarion orders two plates for you both. Whether he orders something for himself to blend in, or to actually eat, you have yet to find out.

“Why did you choose me over Halsin?” Astarion suddenly asked, with the barmaid gone. If you were drinking water or wine, you would’ve choked. Instead you find yourself flushing and nearly breathless at the sudden question. That was a question that wasn’t very easy to answer. This didn’t mean you weren’t sure of your choice, it was just difficult to articulate it.

“Well,” you tried to speak, not wanting to leave him hanging in silence. “Halsin is incredibly kind,” before you can add a “but” Astarion interjected.

“That’s an incredibly odd reason.”
God he could be a little shit.

“No-” you said as he laughed at your expense. It’s clear he’s trying to make sure you don’t feel pressured by lightening the mood. “He is kind, but he is different from me. I know they say that can be a good thing, but you…”

“You understand me in a way I don’t think Halsin can. Not through any fault of his own. I think you might be like, my other half,” the last part caught the both of you off guard. It was a stronger sentiment than you were expecting. You stared down at your half eaten bread slice while your cheeks turned red. Astarion felt such a warmth in his chest that he wasn’t sure he was undead anymore. A life that could not be capable of forming for a monster such as himself. Sensing your embarrassment, he changed the subject.

“Your necklace is pretty,” he commented. If you weren’t already stark red he would’ve said it highlighted your chest nicely. But you’ve been tormented enough. You fiddled with the gemstone pendant and smiled.

“I’m glad you think so, I thought it matched nicely,” you felt a bit small, but not in a bad way.

Faster than you expected, two steaming plates of food were dropped off by the barmaid. It seemed to be roast chicken and some vegetables. Some pretty standard tavern fare. The bread would pair nicely as well. Fearing you would make Astarion uncomfortable if you stared at him, you started eating like it wasn’t a big deal. Through quick glances, you could gather food wasn’t really accessible for him.

You could see him stab the meat with a fork a few times, and stir the vegetables around. Whenever he did manage to take a small bite of something, he would grimace. His pale face was getting paler with each swallow. Astarion swallowed more wine, hoping to avoid throwing up on your first date together. This wasn’t quite right. No, it wasn’t quite fair. It wasn’t fair that you were enjoying food and wine with a dress he bought, while he sat and grimaced to himself enjoying nothing but your company. You kept eating your food, you knew he would be displeased at the thought of you being upset.

When your plate was finished, you took a long sip of the wine and made eye contact with him.

“When do you get to eat?” you asked him, your turn to drop the provocative question.

He rolled his eyes, trying to maintain his cool.

“I’m eating with you right now, aren’t I?”

“Don’t be coy. When do you really get to eat? Is it going to be at home? In the woods by yourself?” You pushed. He looks upset. Even though he was the one who gave you the advice about living a new life, it seems sometimes he still doesn’t want to let go of the old one.
This can’t be helped.

“I don’t want to think about that, I want you to enjoy your time tonight,” he pleaded, placing his hand on yours.

You placed your other hand on top of the one he placed, giving it a squeeze.

“I want you to enjoy your time too. It’s not fair if you do all the spoiling. You deserve to be treated too,” you said sternly, not backing down from this. In most cases you were timid, but for now you were confident. Thoughts were racing through your mind, an idea you wanted to offer. An idea that you were unsure of. What you were sure of, was that you wanted to make him happy too. “So please, answer my question.”

“I’d probably eat tomorrow, or have leftovers, if it intrigues you so much to know,” he sounded bitter, despite his hand affectionately placed between the two of yours.

“What if you had me?” You asked it quickly, knowing you’d stutter if you thought about it any harder. He blinked in response at you, thinking maybe had just hallucinated that you said that. That this must be some fever dream.

“How do you mean?” he asked with a nervous laugh.

“For…food.”

“Oh.”

“Is that, is that a thing, I don’t really know how it works, but,” now your confidence is wavering, based on his reaction.

“It is, but, are you sure?” he asked, seeming confused at the idea. You would not be his first. That was Tav. He remembered how he almost killed Tav, but he’s sure he would be stronger with you. He hadn’t even loved Tav at that point. Afterwards it never happened again, on the account Tav hated how he felt after. No one had ever offered him, besides that one crazy lady in Moonrise. Yuck. But you…you would just be his second. His heart was beating fast at the idea of you and him alone, his teeth in your neck, your taste being the only thing he could sense.

His hand gripped his leg under the table to try to focus himself.

“I think so, I mean I won’t die or turn right?” you asked. He only nodded in response. This was a feeling he has felt before, but not often. It’s lust. But it’s too soon isn’t it? Is it?

He said your name quietly. You looked at him, waiting for his next words.

“If, if we do this, if you let me,” he is oddly at a loss for words, desperation nearly pouring out. Nearly detectable. “I’m, we, I’ll,” he cursed under his breath. You couldn’t help but feel amused.

“What?” you asked, tilting your head.

“I don’t know what I’ll want to do to you, but I might want to do some things so sinful it’d make the good gods weep, and I don’t want you to be ill prepared for that.”

Those few moments of power were gone because once again he has you blushing. Last time you too were feverish with lust for each other, you stopped it. For him, sex is a tool for power. At least, that’s what it was. But after everything that’s happened since then, even if you haven’t even kissed much…This is a much different place. Halsin knows you’ve chosen Astarion, it won’t be a betrayal in any sense. The intentions for what you two are, are mostly clear.

“Let’s do it, just one condition,” you said. Astarion held himself back from carrying you over his shoulder and running back home.

“Yes?”

“Don’t let this be our last date, but next time we do something fun for you.”

“Deal.”

Chapter Text

(18+ NSFW content, please read at your own risk)
(Arms Tonite by Mother Mother)
He was straddling your hips, you were laid on his bed, clothed and innocent. You felt like the proverbial lamb for slaughter. This was not a bad thing, as much as it sounded like it was. The both of you had been in this position for over a minute. Astarion was breathing out his mouth, not quite panting but close to it. A predator and prey. Yet there was no fear. You gave full permission for this moment. Every aspect of your demeanor is incredibly easy to read for him. The hastened beating of your heart is clearly audible. Any trace of arousal he could smell. He used to hate that scent. Nearly signature for each person, a sign he was on the right track. Yours was sweeter, or at least it felt like it was.

Slowly, his hand grasped your chin to angle your face upwards and to the side. Your bare neck laid out before him. Without fully meaning too, his grip tightened. He intended to exercise full control of his thirst. It was becoming increasingly difficult as your eyes pierced into him. Carotid pulsating in time with your heart. Most of his victims he was not allowed to feed on. The fact you allowed to intertwine something so deeply intimate with taking you made it easier to separate it from his past.

Leaning down, you could feel his breath on your neck. It tickled and made goosebumps rise up on your arms. Feeling pleased with your reaction, he started with just a kiss. Warming up the skin… When he parted his lips and let his fangs graze the tender skin, you shifted. He chucked against you. His fangs pierced softly, a sting that made you hold your breath. Pressing harder, he fully had your neck in the grasp of his mouth. Surprisingly the twinge of stinging faded quickly as your blood was siphoned.

You’re not sure if there is any kind of magic involved, but it sure felt like it. Eyes nearly rolling back at the sensation, your back arched as you made small gasping noises. It wasn’t quite pleasure. Just an overwhelming tingle and numbing feeling all throughout your body. His hips pressed into yours, the feeling mutual. His hands grabbed yours and pinned them beside your head. Stars started to fill your vision as you blinked vigorously. If he continued for much longer you would probably lose consciousness. Half of you didn’t want him to stop.

As your strength started to fade, he sensed your pulse slowing. Gently releasing his teeth from you he lifted himself up and observed you. He let go of one of your hands to rub and hold pressure to the two sore teeth marks. Seeing you dazed, almost drunken, gave him satisfaction and concern at the same time. The feeling of his hand on your neck felt like a massage. A small smile graced your face. It was a moment that was dirty but soft at the same time. Even though you were both seconds from going insane from desire, there was love too.

“May I?” you murmured, bringing your hands to the hem of his shirt. Delighted that you would ask, he nodded, taking his hand away from your neck for a moment to allow you to remove the shirt. Slowly, making sure that he could change his mind at any point, the shirt was removed and tossed to the side.

“I want to kiss you,” another murmur from you. It certainly did feel like being drunk, and it aided your confidence. After snickering softly at your demeanor, he leaned down and granted your wish. No tongue, just softly kissing, getting used to how it feels. It obviously wasn’t the first time you’ve kissed. But this one had much more intention to it. A meaning behind it that says that this is the kiss that will be shared a thousand times. Each time just as passionate as this. Your hands brushed through his curls before resting comfortably on his shoulders.

He pulled away, keeping an eye on your wound.

“How do you like it?” he asked quietly. There was a fear you wouldn’t be brave enough to answer his question.

“It depends, I like,” you paused, fumbling a bit. “I would like you to be in control.”

This worked well enough for him. Giving up control has its own benefits, but being able to take it this time would allow him to step away if necessary. He could go as slow or as fast as he wanted, something that would probably feel healing.

“Say no more,” he returned, giving another small chuckle.

He helped you out of your dress, being careful not to damage the fabric. As much as it would be satisfying to rip it off, it was special. Following the same pace, he stripped you further. You felt almost like a doll for a moment. He eyed your body. Taking note of the unique features, the spots you might like to be touched in the most. He studied your reactions when he would place his hand on any one part of you. Astarion laid a thumb over your clit, putting soft gentle pressure before moving in circles. You moved your hips against him and his movements, involuntary whines escaping you.

Switching his position a bit, he put your legs over his shoulders with his head between your legs. His tongue traced abstract shapes over you, tasting how much you enjoyed this. Each twitch and quickening of pulse told him which shapes were your favorite. In novels that had much dirtier content, women would speak of reaching their climax nearly a hundred times. You knew that wasn’t something that really happened. But Astarion had plans to try. An internal tally. Besides, it would be much easier to take you with as much fervor as he pleased if you were soaked.

So he continued, hands gripping your thighs until you’d have fingerprint bruises of his design painting them. As you came, he’d only grip harder.

“Good girl,” he’d whisper and murmur between your legs each and every time. As if he was training you to come to his tongue endlessly.

Being as intuitive as he was, he could tell your legs were becoming sore from clenching and shaking from each wave. He moved and grabbed your arm, helping you sit up. Without words he positioned you with your ass up, knees on the bed, head on the pillow. He held your hands behind your back, as if they were bound.

“If something goes wrong, or you need to stop, snap your fingers for me, okay?” he instructed you, knowing very easily your face could become covered and you could lose your breath. A small noise of acknowledgement left you, as you were feeling a bit dazed. Somehow not being able to see him made things exciting. You couldn’t predict what his next move was. Lightly flinching at his cold hand rubbing against your back, your ass, and your clit. Touching every soft sensitive part of you.

There was a pause, his hand resting on your behind. You wondered if something was wrong before a light smack interrupted your thoughts. It was too gentle to really hurt, it was clear he was testing the waters. He rubbed the spot, warming it like he did your neck. Feeling particularly brave, you wiggled your hips as an invitation. You were not afraid of pain. And pain that you could control, that you could stop if you needed it to, was comforting. With your enticing, he smacks again, this time much harder. The sting radiated, you gasped at the force.

“Balance though,” he muttered almost to himself alone. He moved his hand to stroke your clit again, then slowly teased a finger into your very much needy hole. A louder moan than you anticipated left you. Balancing the pleasure with the pain, was what he meant. After bringing you nearly to the edge, he pulled away. You whined in protest, trying to push yourself closer to him. Instead you were met with another spank, just as hard. You yelped, but his immediate rubbing of the sore spot reduced the pain significantly.

“You really do play with your food huh?” you managed to breathe out.

“Yes,” he agreed, then placed his fingers back inside you tactfully. “I do.”

This cycle continued for a few minutes before another unexpected pause occurred. He slipped off the bed and pulled off his pants and under garments. Within moments he was back behind you, lined up and teasing you.

“Ready?” he asked. You nodded clumsily with a cacophony of affirming noises. Easily he slid inside you, both of you releasing shuddering breaths. His hands firmly gripped your hips, but didn’t immediately fuck you. He let you adjust around him and his length, feeling you clench and pulse against him in anticipation. In turn you could feel him twitch inside you with how still he began. Picking up speed, he thrusted carefully, rhythmically. Still watching and observing each reaction and response.

Not taking too long, but not starting too fast. With you fully warmed up, before you could even utter a ‘please’, he went full force. The sound of your skin colliding echoing in the cellar. Somehow it seemed he hit just the right spot every time his hips met you. At this point you were a pathetic mess, uttering whines and swears. Mixed within your own sounds you could barely hear his own grunts of satisfaction. In the same manner you saw stars when he was feeding off you, you began to see them again at the height of your pleasure.

With ease he slipped out and shifted your position back into missionary. Leaving desperate kissing on your collarbones and breasts he resumed with just as much enthusiasm. Not neglecting your favorite spots, his hands found their way there. As you neared yet another climax, he timed it skillfully. Letting go at the same moment, grunting louder than before.

“Good girl,” he panted again. You don’t know how many times he had praised you, but you wouldn’t mind hearing it again and again.

Laying next to you, he said nothing. Though a look of content was on his face, and he played with your hair. This night didn’t have to end with pain. You would remain here in his bed as long as you both pleased. He had a person. A person to care for, and a person who would care for him.
And so you did lay together. Falling asleep together, partially entangled. While the days could be described as mundane between you, there was something serendipitous. Facing emotions together and finding the meaning of the new life you both promised to live.

It was an ordinary day, you were both reading at the desk, when a spawn entered the store. At first you were both moved to action, but realized they were not injured.

“Astarion, the spawn have been working on a project,” they explained, approaching the wooden counter. You curiously eyed them and Astarion.

“Do you remember the building where Malus Thorm was?” they asked.

“The House of Healing?” Astarion replied.

“Yes exactly!” They smiled at his recognition. “Well, the cultists have mostly cleared out, the place abandoned. We’ve spent the last few months cleaning, and we think it would be a better place to have the clinic. The library there is much larger, the spawn are much closer, and we could help you staff it,” they nervously explained the details, barely keeping eye contact. Being closer to Moonrise would be bitter for Astarion, but he couldn’t argue the logic. You’d never heard of the House of Healing or Malus Thorm, so you were simply curious about it. You would be closer to the grove and could finally visit your family at some point, if you really felt like it.

“We would have to ask Halsin his thoughts, but that sounds like a project I would be interested in,” he told them with a smile.

Halsin agreed with much enthusiasm. After the shadow curse was lifted, he didn’t get much chance to enjoy the beauty of those lands. You didn’t have any objections, but you would miss this place.

It only took about a week to pack up everything that could be taken, and a new journey began.

Chapter Text

“I’m leaving you,” you said firmly, holding a book tightly in your hands.

“Yes, I’m sure you are,” Astarion retorted, angled sideways in an armchair, holding his own book. He’s not even looking up at you.

“For real this time I mean it,” you spat. “I searched for HOURS!”

You are only met with the sounds of snickering, clearly muffled by his hand pressed against his mouth.

“‘Find me a book on vampire bullfrogs’, those do not exist!” you exclaimed and threw your book, weapon of choice, at his lap. “I scoured each shelf, until one of the volunteers took pity on me and asked what I was looking for. He laughed in my face!”

The flung book and the exasperation in your voice only led to more laughter, echoing throughout the upper level. He stood up and raised his hands up in surrender. As he approached your pouting frame, he ruffled your hair.

“You were bored, said the volunteers did too much and you didn’t have anything to do,” he explained. “I gave you something that would keep you occupied.”

You pinched his cheek with enough force to make him audibly wince. Despite your irritation you would not argue with him. This is one of the things you loved about him. He kept you on your toes, teased you, laughed with you, and tried to make duller days more interesting. Rising up by your tiptoes you ruffled his hair back. Your eyes flickered to the bronze rings you both wore. In the legal and literal sense you were not married. It was not within your interest to pursue something formal at the time. It was actually Astarion’s idea to wear the matching rings. He said he found some that were enchanted with warding bonds. A symbol, a reminder. Of course he also said something along the lines of, “so everyone knows your mine,” but you waved him off when he said that. Blushing and pretending like it didn’t drive you crazy at the time.

The House of Healing felt vast in comparison to the previous clinic location. The shelves in the upper floor were filled with books of all kinds of genres. Before you got there, the volunteers had already organized them. Much to Astarion’s disappointment, it was organized by author. You’d spent many days getting used to the layout, since it felt a bit confusing at times. There was a small back office downstairs with two entrances and a doorway leading to the lecture hall. It had been modified into a master bedroom since it had no windows or outside light. Halsin actually opted to sleep outside, claiming he liked it better.

Since the shadow curse that once soured the soil had long been eradicated, he was able to grow a nice garden. Larger than the one before. With tools from the surrounding area, he built an apiary. You were sure you had heard him mention something about honey in the past. He seemed much more content with this location than in Baldur’s gate. The land was much less occupied, nature better intertwined between buildings. With your condition stable, but not improving, he felt less need to be anchored to the place. Especially since volunteers were taking up medical practices, those with more knowledge teaching others who wanted to learn. Many weeks Halsin would venture to some location to learn and experience as much as he could. When he returned he would teach the others who were interested.

The place was more of a nonprofit than the original. Since the area was more composed of locals, they were willing to trade goods. That’s how most of the spawn arranged for getting food and supplies. Sometimes they would even exchange healing services to non spawn townsfolk. You had asked if they knew that they were all vampires. The spawn simply shrugged. It might just be unspoken knowledge. Not worth making a fuss about it if the place is peaceful and helpful for trading.

You became familiar with a lot of the spawn. Astarion was unsure about being surrounded by them constantly. Many of them were victims of him. Seeing their faces was a constant reminder of all that he had done. You assured him that they had forgiven him. His debt was repaid. This place was becoming a hallmark of knowledge. Instead of seven thousand evil tortured souls, he had fostered them into helpful, intelligent, and kind people. Giving back to each other and the land around them.

Words would not convince him, but he warmed up to seeing them. Just like how you had rewritten over the memories of intimacy, he would make new memories with the faces of those he betrayed. If he saw them smiling with true genuine friendship, he could learn to forget the terror of their screams. They really had forgiven him, most of them at least. There were always one or two exceptions to the rule. Those who had fully resolved their grudge were still quiet and respectful. Some of them had been afraid of him, before realizing who he was now. The evil, the venom, the manipulation, was Cazador puppeteering him. And although that puppet master was dead, it did take years to sever the strings completely. You were grateful that they could meet him and see him as he is now. If they met the Astarion who didn’t care, they might not have gotten this closure.

It was true that the coalition had taken up most of the work that you had been responsible for. They worked as a cohesive unit but with each sector having unique jobs. There were those dedicated to the books and the library. Others did teaching and medical practices. Additionally, there were some who were tasked with security. Threats from within and without still existed even with the previous cult taken down. Not to mention the average bandit who would be interested in some of the more expensive books.

Most times you felt that you were more a nuisance than a help. Astarion may have been pulling a prank, but it really was for your benefit. He often had a habit of giving you tasks to do that had no actual meaning. Just so that you would feel helpful. While he joked it was because he really does like ordering you around, you knew that was only half true.

After calming down, you grabbed a bottle of wine and some glasses. Both of you migrated to your room as the sensation of the dawn approaching grabbed you. He eyed the bottle with curiosity, wondering if you had plans.

You poured two glasses and sat on the bed with him.

“Special occasion?” he inquired, clinking your glass humorously.

“No, just felt like it,” you assured him. He only hummed in response, sipping the wine.

“What do you think is next?”

He hummed again, in a slightly different tone.

“Does there have to be a next?” he offered.

You paused, mulling over the words and taking your turn to sip wine. You supposed there didn’t have to be a next. This could be forever, until you grew old and died. That would be fine, you thought. There wasn’t anything you really wanted. However, you shifted in subconscious discomfort.

“Maybe not, but I guess I want a goal, something to achieve,” you explained, swirling liquid in the glass.
“You’ve already achieved so much in my eyes and,” he paused. “Not to be too self absorbed, I think I’ve done a lot too.”

“That’s just a fact, not self absorbed.”

He chuckled. You disagreed with his assertion that you had achieved a lot. You had done a lot emotionally for yourself, but you wanted something tangible. Something that was your creation. House of Healing was not your doing, the spawn did that. You are inspired by it.

Astarion sensed your unease and shifted a bit closer to you.

“What are you looking for? I’ll follow you wherever you go, you know,” he said softly, like sweet nothings.

It was impossible not to smile.

“I don’t know,” you stumbled over words. “I want to do something great like you or the spawn did.”

You could see him forming thoughts by the sliding of his gaze away from you, his eyebrows slightly furrowing. Joining him, you pictured what you could do. It couldn’t be something very physically taxing. Then you considered for a moment, what if you could write? You loved books, you loved stories. Surely, you could write one of your own right?

What would you write about though? Far away lands, scorned women, star crossed lovers? There was an infinite amount of stories that could be shaped, molded from the clay of reality into something that didn’t exist but felt as though it could exist. The future was one big scary shadow that loomed all around. Stepping towards it every second, but never able to catch it. Never able to know what was inside it. Planning all of your actions surrounding what could be, always one moment behind it.

Astarion had lived for so long that the future was not a shadow, but an old friend. One he had lost contact with for a while. Time was estranged from his perception. There was no planning, no expectation that a step forward would actually lead to something. When he considered your perspective, it was difficult to imagine what you would like to do. He thought of a question. He was scared to ask.

“Does it bother you… that I can’t make a family with you?” he asked, despite his fear, his voice was steady. Whatever the answer was, he would accept it.

It caught you off guard. You wondered if he misunderstood your longing for achievement, for a longing to create a person. It did sadden you in a way, that he couldn’t have a child. That was stolen from him. Even if he at several points would rather die than have one, it was still a loss. A loss that has become apparent in your growth together. It bothered you, yes. Not because you are upset that he cannot provide that, but because of the fact Cazador continued to take things from Astarion even in his death.

“No, that’s not what I’m missing,” you assured him. Relief crossed over his face. Those feelings of inadequacy never fully left him. Always wondering when you’d give up the life with the monster to be with someone more like you. Someone who could bask in sunlight with you. Someone who could cook with you and enjoy food. It pained him that he could not be alive. Only walking in a husk that mimicked life.

“Though, we could always find another way to make a family you know,” you stated, shrugging your shoulders slightly at the end of your sentence. At first he looked confused. “I’m sure there are plenty of children out there that need someone to love them. If not a child, maybe an animal. You seem to be fond of the stray cats around here.”

He laughed with you. He didn’t realize you noticed him sneaking bits of food off to leave out for the cats. Astarion didn’t like his soft spots being known, but he has gotten better with vulnerability. You wear it better, so he tries to model after you. 200 years of being punished for any expression are hard to break away. Then his mind wandered to that imagery. A family of cats, wayward feral children like Arabella or Mol. Kids who were already corrupted, so he probably couldn’t mess them up worse than they were. He could teach them to fight, teach them to read. Before, charity made him feel bitter. Why should he be there for anyone when no one was there for him? No matter how much good you do in the world, there will always be some evil dark smudge to undo your efforts. It’s pointless.

With you, with Tav, both of you having an effortless good nature. Helping people even if it means you end up worse for wear. Taking risks just to make someone smile. Maybe he wouldn’t go as far as risking his life, but maybe there was something good about helping someone. If maybe just one kid could be prevented from spitting up their own congealed blood and clawing out their own grave, it was worth trying. His eyes glistened subtly.

“I guess really there’s a lot to be done then,” you teased lightly, squeezing his cheek. “As long as I’m with you it doesn’t really matter all that much anyway.”

He kissed both of your cheeks before giving one on your lips. With your noses brushing against each other, his breath of wine and mint becoming apparent on each inhale, you were intertwined.

“I agree, darling.”