"If it rains, can I sleep in your tent?"
Astarion looks at her and then to the clear, sunny sky. It hadn't rained once during their travels and the question seemingly comes out of nowhere. Still, he couldn't deny an opportunity. Especially when Gale is so intensely trained on their conversation.
"My dear, you needn't wait for adverse weather to join my bed." He purrs. The pinch in Gale's expression is exquisite.
Tav's smile is as radiant as the sunlight pouring down on them.
If he had a heartbeat, it might have sped up.
He doesn't notice the energy sizzling in the air until the battle is over. Slain goblins litter the ground around them, blood seeping wastefully into the dirt. He catches Tav's eyes scanning the killing grounds, an exhausted sadness souring her pretty face.
Something twists inside of him and he looks away.
It was weak to pity the fallen. Had the dead been stronger, faster, smarter, their places would be reversed and their party would be the collapsed ones. They nearly had been, had the bard not been so quick on her feet and shoved Astarion out of the way of an arrow and picked up Gale's prone body.
It's baffling. Tav did not hesitate to slay those who threatened her. She preferred to talk her way out of trouble, but when push came to shove she'd bring down wrathful lightning or projectile flames. Slip her rapier into exposed weak points and withdraw it efficiently, blood gleaming on the blade.
What a sight she made. Such a pity she had to be put into a corner to show off her grit.
And then to feel bad about it? Absurd.
A taunt dances on his tongue. It stays there. Her peaceful tendencies were as instinctive to her as his violent ways to him.
You learned to be what you are. A small voice supplies from the recesses of his mind.
Astarion shoves the thought aside. What he'd been before, who he'd been, that person was gone. Dead and buried under an overgrown tombstone in Balder's Gate. Someone else clawed their way out of the coffin, through the loose dirt.
He doubts Tav has suffered anything so awful; and instead of jealousy that assumption brings him comfort.
The thought of the sweet little bard out in the world alone, aching and broken, is unbearable.
He busies himself with taking valuables from the dead. When that is done he's unsure of what to do next. Tav is the group's unofficial leader and the woman simply stands in the clearing, head tilted back. Leaves shake in the wind and her hair floats around her.
Astarion follows her gaze. Dark clouds have coalesced, blanketing the sky in a sea of roiling darkness. Tav breathes out gently. A crack of lightning splinters the grayness, followed distantly by a boom of thunder that shakes the ground.
"Let's make camp." She says.
Everyone hunkers down. Gale reads old tomes, Lae-zel cleans her sword, and Shadowheart keeps her tent closed to prying eyes.
Tav stands out even as the rain starts. Droplets splatter on her rosy skin, catch in her hair and dampen it. Her forearms turn towards the sky and rain drops pool in her palms. She looks devote.
Thunder crashes around them and the gentle pattering turns violent.
She does nothing, yet she's doing everything. Standing there against the world, holding it in her outstretched hands.
"Darling," Astarion intends to use his come-hither voice, but what comes out is a wavering, pathetic thing. Tav has never acted so strangely.
She was a strange creature who let him drink from her, followed a monster willingly into the woods. How fortunate he is not the kind of monster that would rip out her slender throat, leave her naked body in the grass, unseeing eyes reflecting the stars but not his reflection.
His monstrosity hides beneath his beauty. That pretty mouth is deadly for a reason wholly unrelated to his fangs. Tav is wrapped around his finger, where she'll remain until she's no longer of use.
Uncertainty crawls across his skin, prickling at the back of his neck as Tav slips into the tent, a shadow over her face. Has his hold on her loosened?
"Something on your mind?" He reclines on his bed roll in a mockery of casualty.
She settles on her knees, back facing him. His mind flashes to days ago. The ruinous temple, overrun with goblins and housing an interesting zealot. The priest called Abdirak offered Tav pain, and much to Astarion's surprise the woman agreed.
Had her mind been made up before his comment? I must see this. Don't you dare say no.
Did her shoulders still have those gashes?
"Astarion," she turns to him. Dark pink curls fall over her shoulder and yellow eyes bear into him. He waits for her to continue, enraptured. She hesitates, looks away and then back again. A blush smudges her cheeks, blotting out the smattering of freckles there. "Will you drink from me?"
Astation laughs, "darling, you ask as if that isn't doing me a favor."
Those burning eyes bear into him again. She shifts closer.
"Can you make it hurt?" Her voice drops to a softness that rivals a flower petal.
He leans back and Tav remains where she is, watching. What does she see? He suddenly wishes she'd turn those piercing eyes somewhere else. Let them search someone else's soul.
"If that's what you wish."
Instead of relief Tav looks conflicted. "You don't have to. I don't want you to do anything you don't want to."
He almost laughs in her face. What a concept, that his desires be considered! But she means it. He knows she means it with every fiber of her being and that hurts. How is it that after decades of pain and abuse loveaffection hurts him?
"My darling, I would love nothing more than to scratch your depraved itch."
Perhaps the priest of Loviatar had awakened something in her.
She visibly relaxes and lets herself fall into him. She sprawls limply on his lap, head resting on his shoulder. Her body is fire against his skin. Through her chest he can feel the thud of her heart. He brushes her hair off her shoulder tenderly, the way a lover would. His other hand rises to cradle the base of her skull where deft fingers curl into her soft locks.
He yanks her head back, pleased with the hiss that leaves her.
"I must say, this is a pleasant surprise. I thought you might fall for the wizard's pathetic magic show."
A tiny gasp leaves her parted lips. "Only you, Astarion." She breathes. "Only you."
He maneuvers them so her back is flush to his chest, his legs spread around her body.
"Are you that easy, darling?" He hums and pulls her head harshly to the side, licks a long stripe along her throat. "I've shown you a good time once and you're hooked?"
Her eyelids flutter shut. Any remaining tension bleeds out of her frame. His grip on her hair tightens. "I expect an answer."
"It's not your earthly skills, but your soul that entices me." It's said as reverently as a prayer.
Icy cold floods his veins. His life has been nothing but false promises and honey-sweet lies. Relinquishing his pound of flesh in hopes to avoid some new, terrible pain.
He's certain Tav tells no falsehoods. She lives and breathes the truth.
Now is no exception.
There is no way for him to rectify this. If he were to speak only beautiful lies would fall out, shatter into a dozen cutting pieces. So Astarion does what she asked of him. Bites down violently on her neck, jaw locking with excess force.
Tav goes rigid, seizing involuntary. She does not struggle.
He sucks hard and fast. Hot blood rushes into his hungry mouth and dribbles down his chin.
She moans. Her hands find purchase on his thighs. He should stop. She should stop him.
Neither move to break the masochistic intimacy. Were it any other maiden or man Astarion would have relished in the power. Tav is not some drunkard he plucked off the street. But she could have been. She'd have been so easy to steal away. She readily walked up to a perfect stranger to help kill a monster. He would have had her in Cazador's clutches in under an hour.
Subdued whimpers sing in his ears. Her palms rub along his thighs firmly to help her undergo the pain.
Her life fills his body, warms him from the inside out. She's been thawing his frozen heart the moment she let him feed. She stepped in front of him the next morning, firmly asserting her faith in him to their companions.
Drinking from her is like sipping on champagne. His head begins to spin.
She's not stopping him.
He rips away, tearing the tiny holes in her flesh into small gashes. She lays unmoving against him. He scrambles to lay her out on his bedroll.
"Tav? Tav are you alright?"
Her fair skin is a sickly ashen color and her body lacks its burning warmth. From spring to winter in his arms. "...Tav?"
Her head falls to one side and he sees the slow, steady rhythm of her torso rising and falling. Astarion falls back onto his haunches, bated breath rushing from his lungs.
She was only sleeping in the cradle of his destruction.
Night passes slowly. The agony of uncertainty stretches the seconds into eternity.
Lamp light flickers against the night. Rain streaks along the outside of the tent, pitter pattering on its way down. Restless energy buzzes through Astarion, but there he sits, statue still.
She finally stirs. Heavy eyelids drag up and unfocused eyes search the tent. The bright yellow he's used to is reduced to smoldering embers. A languid smile blooms on her face when she picks him out of the darkness.
"Hello, beautiful." She croaks.
Astarion surges from across the tent to her side. "I thought I killed you! Why didn't you stop me? Do you know what they'd do to me if I killed you?"
Her arm twists, hand offered without the effort of raising it. He takes it hesitantly and her fingers wrap around his.
"Did you know," slow breathing interrupts her, her grip on his hand loosening. "That's it's easy to get lost in you?"
His stricken face makes her regret the compliment.
Tav glances down, gnaws on the inside of her lip. "If I was to slip away in your arms, would that be so bad?"
"...Do you mean that?" He hates the tremble in his voice.
"To be near you is ecstasy."
Her truth matches the theatrics he'd expect from a bard, but it's not a line. He uses lines, practiced and perfected. Each word is picked with intention, he knows exactly when he'll make his voice drop seductively. When he'll wag his eyebrows suggestively, push his lips into a pout.
Tav is raw. What she does and says is not designed to bring him closer to her.
"Had you hoped I would kill you, then?"
"Of course not," she says gently. "You are…" She trails off. Someone else might think she was at a loss for words. Astarion knows she's considering them carefully, selecting them the way a jeweler chooses the finest gems.
"You are refuge from the storm."
Gods help him. "What is it you want from me?"
You.
Tav does not say it. She doesn't have to. It cries out from every move she makes on the battlefield, hyper vigilant of his position should he need help. Every smile she sends him and the little trinkets she sets aside because she thinks he'll enjoy them.
I want you to love me. The yearning is nearly so tangible he could taste it if he licked the air.
"I-" The single syllable croaks out. "I once loved a paladin, you know?"
He of course does not know. Knows nothing about her. Only that she is everything he is not.
"Sounds like a good match for your tender nature."
Her bark of laughter shocks him. "Hardly. He was good and courageous and… too good for me."
Astarion scoffs. The idea anyone could be too good for her is laughable.
"I spent a long time trying to live up to the person he thought I could be. I never could." She blinks away tears. "He couldn't love me as much as I loved him. I destroyed myself to be the person he wanted. In the end… In the end I had to pick my pieces up and put them together."
Silence lapses between them. Astarion isn't sure what to make of her confession. It's significant, but he doesn't know why. What he's supposed to do with the knowledge.
"I want… I want someone to love me as much as I love them." She rolls forward to hug her knees. "I'm a black hole. A void that can't be filled. I… can't ask you to love me." She faces him, eyes shining and a wobbly smile on her lips. "But just to be near you is a bliss I've never known. You… I don't need to pretend to be anything. I can be imperfect and you don't… look at me like I'm a wretch."
A chuckle worms its way out of his mouth.
"Your bard is showing."
The weak smile broadens into something mirthful. Astarion is glad to see the sunlight return to her face.
"Being with you is… different than anything I've done in a very long time. You say that you want too much, but I don't think that's true. Someone who matches your passion isn't unreasonable. I…" The idea of her spurning him is crippling. He inhales deeply.
"I had a plan. A nice, simple plan. Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn on me. It was easy, instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do was not fall for you." He meets her eyes, where he finds no malice. "And I have failed. You're wonderful. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real."
Tav swallows.
"Being with someone still feels… tainted. Brings up feelings of disgust and loathing. I don't know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I'd like to."
Tav looks at him with a tenderness that he doesn't deserve.
"If it's what you want, we can figure it out. Together."
In two hundred years he hasn't been allowed to make choices. Now, because of a parasite slithering around in his brain, he's walked in the sunlight, met people he'd almost call friends. And a strange little tiefling who for some inconceivable reason cares for him so desperately it would crush her if he rejected her.
And she'd be proud of him. Thank him for honoring his feelings.
"I… I'd like that." He can't remember the last time he willingly told the truth without fear or shame.
"Would you like to lay next to me?"
Astarion knows there's all the room in the world for him to decline. Which is why laying next to her is pure pleasure. The gap is small and Tav offers her hand again. Their fingers entangle.
"I don't know what comes next," he admits. "But I know this-this is nice."