She hated when he looked at her this way. As if he knew exactly what she was doing.
At first, she thought that she was just being paranoid. But now she was almost certain that he knew.
On the day when she woke up on the beach and realised that she was thrust straight into some kind of adventure novel, she knew that she would be absolutely useless. Everyone in their motley crew had some kind of skill, they brought something to the table. Her upbringing did not come with any skills required to survive in the wilderness, with or without a tadpole guest in their brain. Because she was raised to ensnare a husband, bare children, and keep a grand house functioning perfectly for the said husband and children. She did not know how to cook or even build a fire, had no clue how to pitch a tent, and was woefully inadequate when it came to combat or magic of any kind.
She was good at getting people to do what she wanted though.
So, when it was her turn to cook, she asked Gale to tell her once again that simply charming story about the time he almost burned down the library or some other boyhood story that he was so fond of.
She did not actually care, but he did.
Gale would chuckle fondly at the memory, so eager to relive the good old times that he did not notice that it was actually him who prepared the meal, and she was merely going through the motions near him. She now knew far too much about his Tressym, mother, and other details of life in Waterdeep. But, it was worth it. Later in the evening, when she ladled the stew into bowls and handed it out around the campsite, she humbly brushed off her companions' compliments. It was nothing much, really. It wasn't that good. But it was. It was delicious because all she did was salt it a little towards the end. Gods know it would turn out burnt and undercooked if she was the one preparing the meal.
And that was her game in a nutshell. Notice details, exploit others for her benefit, be all smiles and compliments. It has been this way as far back as she could remember. She has never been good at anything, unimpressive in every way. But, somehow, growing up surrounded by the best of the best, she realised that it wasn't the talented or the cleverest that would always get recognition. It was those who grabbed every opportunity, exploited every possibility and shamelessly pushed themselves to the forefront of others' minds that always came out on top. So, she gained others' trust, learned secrets, manipulated others into doing the work for her, and they happily let her take the credit for everything.
She knew it was objectively wrong, but quite frankly, boo-freaking-hoo. If they weren't smart enough to see through her act, then they would get exploited anyway. And why shouldn't she benefit from it in the meantime?
And so, she praised Wyll on his perfect fighting technique and got him to give her pointers. She knew that he might take her asking for sparring sessions as flirting, but what was the harm? He was a Ravengard, he probably had enough people fawning over him back in the city. And he was a little too good, too proper and righteous for her rotten self anyway. After a while, she moved on to Lae'zel, all smiles as she excused herself when Wyll came by her tent. Because of course she was such a ditz, she completely forgot that he asked her to come by, but she couldn't possibly upset Lae'zel now. She would gladly spar with him tomorrow.
This was how pretty much everyone, everyone but one annoying elf, did everything that she required of them. She got reasonably good at casting a limited number of spells, good enough with a dagger and a bow not to get killed in a fight, still completely rubbish at cooking. And every single time she approached someone with a request; he would be watching. She knew she was good at what she did, but he could practically write a book on the subject. So, whilst everyone else was oblivious, she knew he could tell that she was a fraud.
At first it was nothing much, just a sly look here and there. But then came the comments. Oh, how she despised him in these moments!
"My, my. You seem to be getting awfully chummy with Lae'zel. Was it anyone but you, I would think that you caught feelings," he mocked, looking down at her as she tried to lift herself off the ground after a particularly tough sparring session. "And for shame, leaving Wyll feeling all blue time and time again."
She wiped her brow and faked a girlish giggle.
"Astarion, for shame!" she swatted at his arm playfully. "Someone might think you actually care."
What was his deal anyway? What did he care? It wasn't as if he was any better, he was just as rotten as she. Perhaps that was it. Like sees like an all that.
Except he was nothing like her because he was actually good at many things. Locks opened in seconds as he worked on them with quick and precise movements. He was a great shot and hardly ever missed. In fact, if he wasn't, she would be dead three times over by now. He could sew and mend things so beautifully, with such careful stitches, that if they were back at the city, she would have hired him in a heartbeat. He mentioned in passing that he was a magistrate back in the city, which made her feel even more worried. The man saw through lies for a living! And to top it all off, his stupid, stupid, ridiculous good looks would set any living, breathing thing ablaze.
It just wasn't fair.
Be that as it may, he wasn't going to throw her off with his looks, or comments, or that annoying manner of his to hover nearby whenever she approached someone with a request. She would survive and make it home in one piece. Even if it meant that being calm around Astarion and not showing just how much he got under her skin was driving her absolutely mad.
The annoying part was that it made her a little less charming, a little more short-tempered or distracted with the others. Because now doing what she did best, being amicable and pleasant, charming and flirty, did not come as naturally. She started second guessing herself. Because if he could see through her lies, maybe the rest could too?
"A copper for your thoughts," Gale's voice startled her.
She blinked owlishly. "Sorry, I was a million miles away," she smiled at him. "Do sit," she patted the space next to her.
Gale smiled and lowered himself to sit beside her.
"Yes, I can tell. This was the second time I asked."
"Was it? Sorry. I- I'm just thinking about our little group."
It wasn't entirely untrue.
"About how much we've accomplished. About how much more we have to do," she bit her bottom lip as she said that. It was a habit of hers, to bite her lips when she was worried or stressed. It drove her mother up the wall when she did that. Because cracked lips look so unattractive on a lady! She flicked her tongue out a little to check. No, not cracked yet.
"Well, we will get to the goblin camp by tomorrow," Gale watched her bite her bottom lip and turned away when he saw the dart of her tongue through the briefest parting of her mouth. "Perhaps we will be able to find out more about the little guests in our brains. You should get some sleep."
"Yes, goodnight," she answered absentmindedly.
Gale looked like he wanted to say something else, but changed his mind and left without another word.
She sighed and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. Great. All that effort in making friends being undone in seconds. She would have to be extra attentive tomorrow to make up for it.
A tree branch crunched as Astarion approached the campfire.
"Well, if it isn't our fearless leader. No doubt thinking about the strategy she will utilize tomorrow at goblin camp," he mocked. Because he knew that she realised what he was referring to. He wasn't speaking about strategies in combat. He was eager to see how else she would try to use their companions for her gain tomorrow.
"Oh, fuck off."
"Tsk, language!" He wagged an elegant finger in front of her face, looking delighted at her little outburst. "Wouldn't want anyone to think that our perfect, wonderful leader has a potty mouth."
"Go bother someone else."
"I would much rather bother you, actually, my beautiful fraud, if it's all the same to you."
"Do what you like."
Because telling him to stop would likely have the opposite effect. If she acted disinterested, she could probably get him to leave faster.
"Well, isn't it just splendid that what I'd like to do right now is stay right here. So, move over, darling. I will stay up with you, as you seem to be in no hurry to turn in for the night."
She shot him a look full of distaste, but otherwise did not protest.
As Astarion sat down, his sleeve brushed against her bare arm, and she shivered involuntarily. It was just a breath of fabric, but she was so alert when it came to him, so aware of him being in her space, that it felt like her senses were completely on fire.
"I can't sleep," she cleared her throat a little. "It is much too hot."
"Then why don't you refresh yourself. The river is just there," he pointed to the glittering expanse.
"You know what? I think I'm good just looking at it."
"Nonsense! You will feel so much more refreshed after a dip. I know I would."
She did not like his tone. Teasing and a little threatening at the same time.
Suddenly he pushed her, and she fell backwards and into the water, squealing in a most undignified manner.
She came up sputtering, completely soaked and even more frazzled than before. She shot him a murderous look. Astarion did not seem bothered in the least, laughing at her expense.
"Just what is your problem!" she hissed, struggling to climb onto shore because apparently chivalry was dead, and she was supposed to get out without any help at all.
At least she was just in her cotton shirt and trousers, rather than in her armor. When she finally did manage to flop ashore, acutely aware how that looked to Astarion, she marched straight up to him.
"Fine! I know that I am not this perfect leader. We both know that I've been bulshitting my way through this since the word go. And yes, I've abused everyone's trust to learn how to survive out here, and that is probably why for some reason they see me as capable. And I know full-well that I am not special, or talented, or much good at anything. And I also know that if you breathe even one word about this to anyone, I will deny it tooth and nail. And guess whom they will believe," she finished with a smirk. She did not exactly have the upper hand, but at least she stunned him into silence. Except he wasn't really looking at her face. Or rather he was trying but failing. Because whilst the night was quite warm, apparently-
"Hm, nippy tonight, isn't it?"
She short-circuited. If goblin raiders came by at this moment, she would volunteer to be their pincushion and just die. But one did not show that one was embarrassed. So, instead of imploding there and then, she flicked her sopping wet hair into his face, lifted her chin defiantly and marched past him.
"Goodnight, Astarion."
"My dear, I'm wounded by your dismissal. If this is a challenge, don't imagine that I'm not up to it," he laughed as he watched her walk away, her back stiff and her steps too hurried.
And it was in that moment that she decided that she most definitely, most certainly get her revenge. But that would be tomorrow. Because tonight she just needed to get changed and then scream into her pillow because he most certainly got under her skin, and they both knew it.