Tav wasn't sure how much time had passed before she heard the doorknob turn and the study door creak back open. When she looked over, she found Astarion had reemerged, his doublet replaced by the dark, silken shirt he'd been wearing beneath. The ties at the top were undone, the material loose, baring a good deal more skin than the high-collared, form-fitting doublet had.
Apart from his wardrobe change, there was a marked shift in his demeanor. His expression had softened, the hard edge gone from his face. His eyes, too, no longer carried the same harsh intensity as before. Instead, they were round and soft, like they always were in the quiet moments between them.
As he stood there, silent and hesitant, the pink of his tongue darted out from between his lips, the tip grazing his teeth, his eyes flitting from hers down the length of her neck.
Tav didn't miss the way his gaze lingered or the subtle dilation of his pupils, nor the faint, barely perceptible hitch in his breath. He was trying to maintain his composure, but she could tell it was slipping.
To his credit, he recovered admirably, his gaze quickly rising to meet hers like nothing had happened.
It took him a second to say anything. But when he finally spoke, the words came quick and clipped, almost as if he'd rehearsed what he was about to say.
"Now, I admit, this is going to be rather forward of me, but-" Hesitating, a bashful sort of discomfort flashed across his features. "Is there any chance we could perhaps just…disregard all the heated remarks I made for a moment?"
The request caught her off-guard, but Tav didn't hesitate to answer.
"That depends," she replied carefully, her expression neutral. "Why are you asking?"
"Oh, any number of reasons, I suppose. Most pressing, however, would be that, well…you're sharing a room with a vampire, and I couldn't help but notice that right now there is a delectable vein in your neck that's practically begging to be bitten." His eyes dropped back down to the exposed skin of her throat, and he took a shallow, shaky breath. "Soo, I thought that perhaps we could agree to momentarily overlook my little lapse and…pretend like we're at the part where you've already forgiven me for my repugnant manners and now want nothing more than to selflessly offer me your neck."
He stopped for a moment, and when he began again, his voice had lost its casual tone, becoming lower, almost husky.
"Because I'll be honest, darling, I'm on the verge of becoming a threat to the lives of your kitchen staff. Not maliciously, mind you, but, ah, you understand what I'm getting at."
For a second, Tav just stared at him, unblinking. Then, a grin split her face, and she burst out in a fit of laughter, slowly sinking back into her pillow while Astarion watched on in wide-eyed disbelief.
She shouldn't have been laughing. She knew that. Being sequestered in a room alone and barely half-dressed with a bloodthirsty vampire was anything but a humorous situation. Nor was the active threat of bodily harm to the household staff. But she couldn't stop herself.
Because, oh, the irony of it all!
Her laughter died down, but the wry smile didn't leave her face.
"Huh," she mused once she'd managed to catch her breath. "So after everything you just said, what you're asking is…for me to take pity on you. Did I get that right?"
Astarion's face contorted in distaste like there was something rotten under his nose. "Ugh," he grumbled. "Point taken."
There was a pause.
"Funny how words have a way of coming back to bite you sometimes, isn't it?" Tav said, her tone light.
The glare he shot her made it clear he didn't find her quip the least bit amusing. At least not at the moment.
"Now," she went on, "the question is, do I 'keep my pity' to myself like you advised? Or do I go against your wishes and-" Raising a finger to her neck, she drew it slowly down the length of her throat, hooking it just under the neckline to expose a bare collar bone "-selflessly offer you my neck, hmm?"
She watched as Astarion's eyes followed the path of her finger, pupils blown wide, his expression turning pained.
"Darling, please."
The torment in his voice tugged at her heart. The night back at camp when he'd first approached the topic, begging for a taste after being caught in the act, sprung to mind. This was different. Then, he'd been restrained, calculating, every word meant to elicit her sympathy. He'd been hungry, yes, but not desperate. Not like he was now.
Astarion was still keeping his distance, resignedly trying to play the gentleman, but it was a losing battle. If left unsated, his hunger would reach a point that nothing short of the binding compulsion of a vampiric master or active physical restraint could keep him from acting on his urges. And by all appearances, that point was rapidly approaching.
Tav had no interest in testing how long it would take him to reach it, either.
"Come here," she said, patting the mattress next to her.
In a blink, Astarion had closed the distance between them and was at the bedside, looming over her. For a second, he paused, gauging her reaction. When she beckoned him closer, he leaned in, one knee pressed into the mattress, the other braced on the floor.
Carefully, he placed a hand on the mattress beside her waist and climbed onto the bed. He moved slowly, deliberately, as if to telegraph each action until his legs bracketed her hips. He still kept a measured distance between them, but gods, if she wasn't tempted to drag him closer and feel the press of his body against hers.
He reached out, fingers ghosting along the neckline of her nightshirt, fingertips grazing the fabric as he hooked a finger underneath and tugged. He pulled just enough to expose her collarbone, the curve of her shoulder, and the smooth expanse of skin below but not so much as to pull the fabric from the ties which held it in place.
It was the very same gesture she'd teased him with a few moments ago, only when he did it, his touch sent a frisson of heat coursing through her.
"Mmm," he hummed, the sound on the verge of a moan. "Gods, but you're a feast, aren't you?"
The fire she saw in his eyes left her burning, but Tav did her best not to let it show. Instead, she tilted her head, fully exposing the column of her throat.
"Go on, then," she said. "Have a taste."
The permission broke the last of his restraint.
Astarion descended on her instantly, one hand pressing against her shoulder, pushing her back into the pillow, and then tangling in her hair, cradling her head and holding her still. The other hand he slid under her, wrapping around her back.
The sudden motion left her breathless, and for a second, she felt nothing. Then, it was like a shard of frigid glass had pierced her neck. It stung for only a second before the pain was gone, replaced by the thrum of numbness and the gentle pull of his lips against her skin.
Her breath caught, hands rising to fist the fabric of his shirt, and he tightened his hold, pulling her to him and crushing her against his chest. She'd almost forgotten what it felt like, letting him sate his hunger with her. The first time, it had been a nerve-wracking struggle as she'd fought to keep him from taking too much. But now, there was no hesitation or fear. Just that gentle, spreading numbness and the comforting press of his body against hers.
It felt good, and when she closed her eyes, she could imagine they were back in the grove, with the morning sunlight filtering gently through the leaves, the warmth of the day stirring them both awake.
The memory grew hazy, and she felt the edges of her thoughts start to go soft. It would have been so easy to slip away into that blissful fog and let the rest of the world fade, but she snapped back to her senses. And not a moment too soon.
"Astarion," she murmured, pressing a palm to his shoulder.
It took him a second to break away, and when he did, he came up gasping, the look in his eyes wild. A smear of her blood clung to the corner of his mouth, his teeth painted crimson. He looked a fright, and yet, there was something utterly captivating about him.
"That's enough," she chided, though there was no real admonishment behind the words.
With every ounce of restraint he possessed, his hand slowly slid from her hair, and the arm around her back relaxed, easing her back down against the pillow. His whole body trembled, his breath coming ragged and uneven. He still hovered over her, his expression dazed, but gradually, his eyes refocused, and his breathing began to calm.
When he finally pulled away, he was slow and deliberate, moving his body off hers and sinking back down onto the mattress beside her. Once settled, he took a deep breath, and when he let it out, the last traces of his tension went with it.
"Delectable as ever, my dear." His voice sounded thin and strained, a far cry from its usual silky tenor. "Though, more importantly, I must ask, are you all right?"
"I think I should be asking you that," she replied, eyeing him. "But yes, I'm fine."
She raised a finger to her lower lip and mimed wiping it.
"You have a little, uh..."
"Oh, uh," he muttered, swiping away the stray smear of blood with his thumb before running his tongue over his teeth. "Better?"
"Much."
With a soft hum, he slowly leaned back into the pillows, pausing only to reach for the bottle of wine on the nightstand beside him. Passing it across his body, he offered it to her.
"Here you are, my sweet," he said. "As promised."
"Thank you," she took the bottle. It felt light, less than half its contents remaining. "How much of this did you drink?"
Astarion scoffed softly. "Not nearly as much as I'd have liked."
Side-eyeing him, she tipped the bottle back and drank. The wine was sweet, with notes of berries and a faint hint of oak. Not too dry, either, which suited her just fine.
After taking another sip, she lowered the bottle and jabbed a finger his direction.
"Shoes off the bed," she ordered.
Astarion glanced down at his feet, like he hadn't noticed he'd still been wearing them, and then quickly pulled them off with surprisingly little complaint, letting them fall to the floor with a thump.
"Apologies," he said, the word laced with sarcasm. "Footwear etiquette must have slipped my mind. I can't imagine why."
Tav didn't respond; she simply took another sip from the bottle and passed it back to him.
"How do you feel now?" she asked after a moment.
He lay back, staring up at the ceiling, the bottle propped loosely in his hand. "Well, at the moment, I'm seriously contemplating going downstairs and adding Shadowheart to the list of friends I've 'sunk my teeth into', if that gives you any idea."
She let out a low hum but otherwise ignored the jest. "So, still hungry, then."
"Ravenous," he agreed curtly. "But...your blood did take the edge off." There was a pause as he took a sip of wine. "Thank you, by the way."
"Don't mention it."
A silence fell between them, and for a few moments, they simply lay there, passing the bottle between them. The longer they went without speaking, though, the heavier the quiet became.
Astarion was the one to break it.
"Tav, about earlier," he began slowly. "What was said. I- I'm sorry, all right? You didn't deserve that from me, and if I could take those words back, I would."
He sounded so sincere Tav had to stop herself from telling him it was already forgiven.
"I appreciate that," she said instead." And I get it, I do. Stress and frustration can make us say things we don't mean, or…say them more harshly than we intend to."
The comment earned her a wry, almost-smile.
"No need to mince words, darling," Astarion said, a trace of his usual humor returning. "Just say I was a prick. You wouldn't be wrong."
Tav didn't even hesitate.
"You were! Gods!" she exclaimed. Still, the words came out with a laugh. "But I forgive you because I care about you. Even when you're a prick."
Astarion rolled his head her way. "Well, that's fortunate. Considering I'm quite the frequent offender."
Tav reached over, gently taking the bottle from his hands. "True," she conceded, her gaze lingering on him momentarily. "But you're a charming one, so that makes up for a lot."
The flattery earned her another faint, wry smile. "I am, aren't I? And beautiful. Don't forget that."
"And beautiful," she agreed.
With the air cleared between them, they lapsed into quiet again. This time, though, the silence was comfortable.
For the first time since he'd returned, the tension was gone. Astarion was no longer coiled like a spring, wound and ready to snap at any moment. He wasn't completely relaxed, but the way he lay there, with his hands folded neatly on his stomach and the back of his neck resting against the pillows, was close enough.
At some point, he'd closed his eyes, but when she studied him for a moment too long, they flicked open, and his head turned slightly in her direction.
"Something on your mind?" he asked.
Tav rolled over to face him, steadying the wine bottle atop the mattress and tucking one arm under her pillow. "Sort of."
"Do tell," he prompted. "I'm all pointy ears, darling."
"I was just thinking," she said slowly. "What are we still doing here in Baldur's Gate? We made all those plans to get out of here. Travel the world, see the sights. But we've just been sitting here...for a month, after we swore we wouldn't. We could be halfway across the Sword Coast by now. Instead, we're right back where we started. At least I am."
The thought had been weighing on her mind for some time. In the weeks following their return to her villa, she'd gradually begun feeling more and more trapped, like a dove locked up inside a lavish cage. It hadn't felt that way before her abduction, but after experiencing the thrill of living each day on the edge under the constant threat of death, simple domesticity was a drag in comparison. High society life was little better, with its vapid parties and shallow conversation.
In a way, it felt like a life not quite lived. And she suspected, deep down, Astarion felt the same.
He didn't answer right away; he only pursed his lips slightly.
Tav didn't need him to, though. She'd already considered the reasons for their stagnancy on her own, too.
The truth of it was that once the initial shock of everything that had happened had worn off, something had gradually come over all of them. Gale had holed himself up in the library, buried under a pile of books. Shadowheart had taken to wandering the estate, often disappearing into the gardens for hours at a time. Astarion had preoccupied his nights with drink and the company of noble-born strangers, only to spend the mornings and much of the afternoons in his trance, avoiding the sunlight. And her? She'd just thrown herself into charity work, trying to ignore how she felt, helping with the restoration efforts where she could, playing hostess to the dozen or so refugees they'd taken in. Besides that, she'd mostly just...slept.
It seemed strange, considering how lively they'd all been just a month earlier, living high on the intoxication of adventure. But once the city was safe, that feeling had evaporated, and in its absence, a heaviness had crept in. It was like the bone-weary exhaustion they should have felt after a battle had finally caught up with them.
"You're not wrong, actually," Astarion said eventually. "We've certainly been dragging our heels, haven't we?"
"It feels like it."
It was Astarion's turn to roll onto his side, facing her, a roguish look in his eye. "Perhaps we ought to remedy that, hm? Do something...impulsive."
Tav snorted. "Your idea of impulsive and mine are very different. Take, for example, the time you, on a whim, decided we raid a goblin camp and slaughter the entire tribe. I, on the other hand, lean towards something more along the lines of 'light vandalization of a portrait of a Gith god-queen'."
"Yes, yes," he conceded. "But you have to admit, that was fun, wasn't it? Slaughtering the entire camp, I mean, not defacing a painting."
"I almost died."
"Yes, well, that's all part of the fun, dear."
She glared at him, but her expression broke, a smile cracking through.
"We should do something," she finally agreed, relinquishing the bottle to him. "If not impulsive, then at least...different. Get out of the city for a while. Maybe spend some time traveling, like we talked about."
Astarion propped himself up on his elbow, and a small, almost wistful smile crept across his face.
"I'd love nothing more than to travel the lands with you, darling. We could visit Waterdeep, then perhaps Neverwinter. Summer in the Moonshae Isles. Maybe stir up a little trouble while we're at it." A glint crossed his eyes and then faded. "But, ah, there is one little catch. We'd have to see it all at night…for obvious reasons, and well, you can't exactly see in the dark. So unless you've picked up a new trick you're not telling me about, it may not be the grand tour you were hoping for."
Tav considered it for a moment, then gave a soft hum.
"Maybe we go somewhere where there's no sun, then. Somewhere Dark that's Under the surface of Faerûn and is currently teeming with hordes of blood-thirsty spawn."
Astarion closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips to his temple. "Oh, not this again…"
"What? They need someone to lead them, you said so yourself," Tav insisted. "So, maybe we go down there, find them, and take the reins. We could do that, couldn't we?"
"Ugh," he groaned. "We could. But it would all be so tedious. And think of the responsibility involved. Not to mention the amount of walking we'd have to do to round all seven thousand of them up to begin with. Karlach's not exactly around to carry me, either."
Astarion stalled, and his brows knit together.
"Still," he mused, "it would probably be the noble thing to do, seeing as I'm at least partially responsible for damning one-seventh of them to a life of undeath and eternal, insatiable hunger. Perhaps we could help them carve out a safe corner in the Underdark. Teach them to control their urges. That sort of thing."
"Sounds like you're open to the idea, then?"
Astarion hesitated for a moment.
"Eh, kind of?" he admitted, his face twisting into a grimace. "The more I think about it, the less appealing it sounds. Slumming it in the Underdark once was bad enough, but…condemning myself to tendays spent sleeping on bedrolls down there? Again?" By that point, he was practically whining. "My back's aching just thinking about it."
He slumped back down dramatically. Still, he was careful to keep his head from flopping onto the pillow lest he muss his hair.
"Oh, gods above," Tav muttered under her breath. "Okay, we'll revisit that one in a few months. What about this? How about setting off on a journey to figure out some way for you to walk in the sun again? Maybe start by finding someone who knows a lot about powerful magical artifacts, obscure rituals, profane rites. Things like that."
"Good news," Astarion quipped back. "Gale's right downstairs, love, and more than happy to chat, I'm sure."
"I was thinking more of someone with concise answers, but...as long as we're at Gale." Her tone became more serious. "Back on the docks, after we crashed the brain in the river, he said something about the Crown. That it might be possible to salvage the stones and then retrieve it from the Chionthar. Maybe we could encourage him to..."
Astarion's eyes lit up with devilish interest. "Mmm, go on."
Tav couldn't believe the idea she was about to entertain. Had the alcohol gone to her head that quickly? Regardless, she plunged ahead.
"I may have dissuaded him against it at the time, because it sounded like a terrible idea. But now? It's still a terrible idea, but maybe...kind of an interesting one? Maybe we could pitch in and give him a hand, somehow. Granted, I'm pretty sure if Gale's the one who reforges it, he's the one in control of it. But, hey, it's impulsive…right?"
Astarion's expression went contemplative.
"An all-powerful Gale. Hmm," he mused, scrunching his face in thought. "There are certainly worse people who could hold the fate of the realms in the palm of their hand." He stared up at the ceiling for a second, considering. "Imagine how insufferable he'd be about it, though. Mystra would take issue, too, no doubt. Wouldn't want to be caught in the middle of that lovers' spat." He paused once again, then added, "And let's not forget the biggest issue, which is, well, it's…Gale with all that power and not us, soo…"
"Okay, fine. That's a no to the Crown, then," Tav conceded, a little deflated. "But you can't keep shooting all my ideas down. There has to be something we can agree on that doesn't involve us sitting here, wasting away in Baldur's Gate. We need a fresh start. Astarion, you need a fresh start. And that's not going to happen here."
His face became unreadable, but he didn't argue with her. He simply lay there in silence for a moment.
Finally, he spoke. "Loathe as I am to admit it, you do have a point. I've been trapped in this city against my will for two hundred years, ruled by fear, unable to...live. And now that I'm free, what have I done? In a way, I'm just as much of a prisoner as I ever was, only now it's by convenience instead of compulsion." He took a breath, then let it out. "It's time that changed."
Astarion's gaze dropped, focusing on the wine in his hand. Tav thought he looked like he was about to say something more, but after a long pause, he merely brought the bottle to his lips and drained the few remaining drops.
"Let's say we start small," Tav ventured. "Maybe get away to Elturel. Stay a few days and see where it takes us from there. Oh, and before you bring it up again, I'll be able to see just fine as long as the moon's out. So, what do you think? That sounds fun, right?"
He appraised her for a beat before lifting a finger as if he was about to ask a question.
"Would…Gale be invited?"
"Should he be?" she asked.
Astarion responded without hesitation. "No." A pause. "Well…maybe. Shadowheart could come too if she wanted, I suppose. And Wyll, if he's not too busy. Do you think Jahiera would join us?"
Tav honestly didn't care who they brought along so long as Astarion was with her.
"Anyone and everyone, then," she said. "So what do you say? Ready to leave Baldur's Gate behind and go see the world again? Just think, it could be the start of another grand adventure. You might just get to bloody your hands along the way, too."
Tav could tell she'd piqued his interest at the prospect of spontaneous bloodshed. She'd seen it before, a hint of a smile on the edge of his lips, the slightest lift in the corner of his eyes. He was tempted.
"That…does sound pretty fun, actually," he said. "All right, let's do it."
Suddenly, her mind began to run wild, painting the image of them together, traveling across Faerûn, forging a new life from the ashes of their old ones. They'd stay in inns by day and travel by night. See the sights, eat the food. Maybe get caught up in some heroics here and there. They'd make for themselves the kind of tales they could brag about in taverns far and wide. It would be the fresh start they both needed, and by the gods, she could use a little fun after all this time trapped inside the city. It would be...
"Perfect," she said. "There'll be a few things to sort out beforehand - the villa, the refugees, all of that. I'll see to the arrangements, and we can get out of here as soon as everything's in order."
"Ever the pragmatist, aren't you?" Astarion teased.
"Someone has to be."
He didn't argue. Instead, he just studied her for a moment before spreading an arm out over the pillows. An obvious invitation.
Tav took it, shifting closer to settle in the space under his arm, using the point of his shoulder as a headrest. The silk of his shirt felt cool against her cheek, and she could just barely feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. A habit, really, not necessity. Still, it was comforting all the same.
Together, their conversation faded, and they passed a few moments in mutual silence. Astarion lay there with his eyes open, staring at the patterns on the ceiling, fiddling with the empty wine bottle in his other hand, one finger making idle circles around the lip.
The motion seemed absentminded and lazy. Tav wasn't fooled, though. She'd seen it before, that deliberate preoccupation. A channeling of the restless, anxious energy that frequently danced beneath his aloof facade. Something was on his mind. That much was obvious, but as was becoming the trend, he clearly wasn't in any rush to get to whatever it was.
Eventually, Astarion raised his hand and shifted the empty bottle to his palm, slowly twisting it in the candlelight, a slight frown crossing his features.
"You know," he finally began, keeping his eyes trained on reflections that danced across the glass, "the first thing I did when I got back here was go down to your cellar and grab the biggest bottle of wine I could find…which just coincidentally happened to be the most expensive."
He paused to take a breath before he continued, his voice becoming distant.
"I wanted nothing more than to come up here, lay in the dark, and drink myself senseless. Forget everything in the only way I knew how. The same way I've been forgetting for centuries, at any opportunity I could."
Lowering the bottle, he blew out a sigh and let his head loll to the side so he could meet her gaze. He stayed there for a moment, unmoving, and when he finally spoke, a flicker of emotion found its way into his voice.
"But then that plan fell apart," he continued, "because here you were. Smiling and... real. You saw right through me, and you- you stopped me." An earnest softness settled into his expression. "I'm grateful."
His arm, the one draped lazily over her, gave her an almost imperceptible squeeze, and he added, "The same way I'm grateful you asked about my night, too. I didn't want to tell you any of that, truthfully. But I'm glad I did."
Glancing away, Astarion shifted just enough to set the empty bottle aside on the nightstand and resumed his staring contest with the ceiling. This time, it wasn't but a second before he spoke again.
"I don't deserve you, Tav."
There was a weight in his tone that hadn't been there before, a melancholy tugging at the edges of each word.
Tav didn't immediately reply. Instead, she reached out to tuck a few wayward strands of silver hair behind his ear. The gesture was enough to win Astarion's attention again. Though now, the depth of emotion that had been in his words was reflected in his eyes as well.
Despite their conversation's serious turn, Tav's answering smile still held a playful edge.
"Well, too bad," she said, "because you have me anyway. And I'm not going anywhere."
Her answer broke the fragile tension that had formed. The corners of Astarion's eyes crinkled up into the barest hint of a smile.
"Good," he murmured, "because I've grown rather…fond of you, you know."
"I know."
Tav closed the gap between them and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, smoothing the lines that had settled into his brow. It was brief, little more than a brush of her lips, but when she pulled away, she found Astarion watching her, a warm, quiet affection painted on his face.
A wordless exchange passed between them, unspoken but understood all the same. It was an admission and a promise all rolled into one.
After a moment, Tav broke their shared gaze, pushing herself up to sit.
"Now, it's late," she began, her voice regaining its usual, easy confidence. "Well, late for you, early for me. And, as much as I'd like to spend the rest of the morning talking, it's high time you get some sleep- er, rest."
Technically, he didn't even need that, either, but it always seemed to help ease his mind and center him come afternoon. That, and it had become a habit, one Tav was trying to encourage.
Without waiting for a response, she moved to get out of bed but stopped short when a cold hand shot out to catch her wrist.
"Wait."
Tav glanced back, and the beseeching look she found on Astarion's face gave her pause.
"Stay with me," he said, his voice dropping into a near whisper. "Please." His gentle grip on her wrist loosened, but his hand didn't move. "I…don't think I should be alone right now. I don't want to be alone right now."
His fingers fell away as Tav sank back down beside him. She could feel the slight quiver in his fingertips as his hand came to rest on her knee.
"You aren't going to be," she assured him. "Not now, or ever again."
Tav settled back in, this time on her side, mirroring his posture, and opened her arms to him. Without a second's hesitation, Astarion shifted into them, pressing his forehead into her chest and curling his body around her, entwining his legs with hers, one arm wrapping tightly around her waist.
"I'm here," she murmured, her chin coming to rest atop his head.
The scent of bergamot, rosemary, and brandy clung to him, and Tav drank it in, feeling his tension ease under the gentle sweep of her hand across his back.
Muffled against her skin, Astarion let out a shaky sigh.
Neither said anything more after that. There was no need to.
If there was one thing they both knew, it was that the road that lay ahead was uncertain, full of twists and unforeseeable turns. There was no telling where it would take them, either, or what joys and pain lay along the way. All that was certain was that come tomorrow, and the day after that, and the next, they'd face whatever might come. Together.
For now, though, as the sun's morning brilliance peeked over the rooftops and the city awoke to a new day, the only thing that mattered was this. The two of them, nestled safely away, wrapped up in each other, clinging to one another more tightly than they ever had.