Chapter Text
The day had begun in the usual way.
Shuffling out of your tent, a yawn stretching your face as you grumbled and groaned your way to the campfire and whatever concoction was waiting for you to eat. Mercifully, there was still a little of the food you had brought with you from your last stop in civilization but it would be gone by the afternoon no doubt.
There were a million things to do before you could all set off into the wilderness again and you had left it to Wyll and Karlach to keep the camp in check as you left that morning.
For once the only thing on your to do list was, mercifully, ‘Gather Firewood’ . Something you could do without shedding a single drop of blood.
Probably.
With your first choice of companion regrettably occupied with that damnable whispering book, you had practically kidnapped Gale as he’d wandered past you at just the wrong moment. He very vocally bemoaned the fact that he would be more useful back at camp, but you marched him on. Like Hell would you be lugging enough firewood to last three days back by yourself.
So you ignored his griping and petulant sighs and eventually he stopped trailing behind you like a victim being dragged back to a goblin’s cave.
An hour into your little excursion and he even made good use of the trip by finding a way to punish you for your desire for company.
He ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ at the groups of Lion's Mane mushrooms that were growing along the edges of the path, squatting down to get a better look and scrutinize them just closely enough to determine that they were edible.
He presented them to you when he rejoined you in the little clearing you had dumped the dry wood.
“For potions?” you asked hopefully as he stuffed handfuls into his bag but he flashed a painfully smug grin at you in response. Your nose wrinkled.
“For dinner. That’ll teach you.”
Your deadpan face made him laugh and despite the heavy slog of dragging back enough wood to last the next few nights, you were both in high spirits as you crested the little hill that bordered your campsite.
The sun was low in the sky now and you raised your face upwards, enjoying the streaks of color that split the blue. You had come to appreciate sunrise and sunset so much more after experiencing them at Astarion's side. The awe painted on his face, no matter how many times he witnessed them, would oftentimes cut you to the bone with it's earnestness.
Your good mood soaked into the rest of your companions as the evening wore on. Karlach and Wyll were huddled close around the fire, preparing the food under Gale’s watchful eye. You weren’t sure exactly how you could fuck up cutting mushrooms of all things but the wizard had assured you anything was possible if you were inept enough.
Shadowheart had bowed out of preparations when Gale had begun to explain the proper technique to holding a knife and you couldn't exactly blame her. You yourself had left them all to it and had chosen to linger around Astarion's living space as nonchalantly as possible. He was still wrangling the book, grumbling insults at it at increasingly random intervals until he slammed it shut with a thump and abandoned it completely.
You took this chance to make him partake in actual conversation with the group for a change; even if you did sort of have to drag him from his skulking around the edge of the clearing to sit with you. But he had acquiesced with very little cajoling in the end, unable to refuse you.
The food had been good, despite the lack of meat and the inclusion of mushrooms and your high spirits meant that you handed out compliments like they were going out of fashion. You showered Gale with praise for his help that day in the forest, and then moved onto Karlach for her work to set up camp.
You hopped from person to person, heaping on accolades in the hopes that it would make up for your perpetual grumpiness over the last few days. Your companions deserved a little rest and relaxation and to be on the receiving end of a compliment or two as well.
When you went to sit back down in your seat, Astarion had vanished much to your disappointment.
You were left to assume that he had simply gone off in search of something to eat in the surrounding woods but it didn’t stop you from worrying now that he was out of your sight. Yes, he was technically a big bad vampire, who could more than take care of himself… but the knowledge that his old master was on the hunt for him didn’t allow you to rest easy.
You quelled the niggling worry in your stomach with the knowledge that you and he had scoured the woods thoroughly before choosing a place to set up camp. No goblins nearby to speak of and no other settlements either.
Just lush green forest for miles, split by a wide river to the east and a steep cliff face to the south that buffered you all from the wind.
You hadn’t seen a trap for miles, nor any speak or scent of monster hunters and you had both been satisfied at the time with your choice. There was no option then, other than following him and potentially doing him out of a kill with your noisy footsteps, but to sit and wait for his return.
Despite missing Astarion’s company, you still managed to spend a pleasant evening under the stars with everyone else; parting ways for bed with full stomachs and the promise of making more progress tomorrow. There were battle plans to be made and potions to be brewed before you could set off and it was nice, knowing that you would be in the same spot for more than a single day for a change.
The flip side of that was, you knew that it made Astarion feel on edge. Especially knowing that he was basically the number one most wanted on many a monster hunter’s list. Not to speak anything of Cazador. Gods, even you had nightmares of that wretched monster; ones where he would materialize from the darkness and simply pluck Astarion from your group. No matter what, you could never move. You could never fight for him or reach for him or even follow behind when Cazador whisked him away.
Those dreams always left you shaken; sick to your stomach and pacing through the night until he would appear and ask you what the fuck you were making so much noise for.
So now, even knowing that he could take care of himself, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to rest fully without knowing he was back before you retired.
After bidding everyone goodnight, you waited up, reading in your tent instead of sleeping as you should be. Halsin had patted your shoulder when you passed him, smiling softly.
"He'll be back soon enough. I don't sense any danger out here."
You squeezed his hand in thanks, despite his kind words doing very little to quell your discomfort. As the night grew deeper and darker, the sounds of the few companions who had remained around the fire when you left, waned. Eventually, all that was left were the sounds of crackling embers and the ever present song of crickets in the warm night air.
It would have been peaceful had you not been increasingly anxious about Astarion’s whereabouts.
Another ten minutes passed before the sound of soft footsteps approaching put the niggling worry in your stomach to rest. Embarrassingly enough, you knew his gait off by heart; even when he was being as quiet as a mouse.
You also knew that he would see that your lantern was still lit and there was no doubt that you would have his company for an hour or two while he wound down from the hunt. It was an inevitability. Even before you had begun to regularly offer him blood, Asatrion would make himself at home in your tent with little to no reason or rhyme other than ‘he wanted to’ . What other reason did you really need?
As expected, the footfalls paused outside the closed flap of the canvas tent and you lifted your eyes from your book to stare at the fabric. It took a moment longer than usual for it to lift but sure enough, there he was.
No matter how many times you laid your eyes upon him, Astarion always managed to steal the breath right out of your lungs.
You had simply gotten better at hiding the effect he had on you.
So as he ducked inside and brushed away the dust and dirt from the woods, you pretended with as much conviction as possible, not to pay him much mind. You went back to reading your book with a simple, “Where did you get off to? I’m almost offended that you didn’t say goodbye.”
“Yes,” he sniffed primly, wandering in your direction now. You had perched yourself on top of your bed roll with your back pressing against the side of the tent, preferring to read with your knees drawn up to your chest. You had been fortunate enough when picking a spot to set up your temporary living quarters, to claim the sturdy old oak on the edge of the clearing and it made for an excellent headboard. “Well forgive me for not indulging in the lovey dovey atmosphere this evening. Not really my style.”
That made you look up, an eyebrow raised in amusement as he approached.
“Lovey dovey atmosphere?”
“I said what I said,” he hummed, kneeling down frighteningly close to your feet. You had stretched your legs out in front of you at some point during his approach and the sight of him on his knees before you was... erotic. Shockingly so. You swallowed any urge to tell him so because it would do nothing but add to his already monsterous ego. If his head got any bigger he would be absolutely useless for stealth. “You’re quite the little bundle of affection when you’re in high spirits, aren’t you? I’m surprised you didn’t wax lyrical about Gale’s cooking to him. Although I suppose nothing could put you in a good enough mood for that.”
That drew a laugh out of you despite how serious he sounded when he said it. He leveled a look at you that told you he meant what he said, but amusement danced prettily in his eyes and the lines beside them deepened when a smile pulled at his mouth.
"Leave Gale be. At least he makes good use of himself around here," you pointed out when your laughter subsided. Something unreadable flitted across Astarion's face and for a moment, it looked suspiciously like hurt. But it was gone almost the same moment as it came and he was back to that cool mask of relaxation. You frowned, opening your mouth to speak but-
A cool hand snaked its way around your ankle, a shock of sensation and temperature difference that ripped the words you had been about to speak from your lungs. Goosebumps raised on the skin there and traveled upwards, culminating in a swift flash of heat between your legs.
Slowly, you closed your book and set it aside. Astarion was looking at you the way he’d looked at you that night, so many weeks ago after the party. With lust in his gaze and his lips parted ever so slightly. Just enough for you to catch the barest glimpse of sharp, white teeth.
You suppressed a delighted shiver, swallowing around a heavy tongue before you managed to claw your voice back.
"Can I help you, Astarion?"
"Hmm,” he hummed lightly. “You know, I was rather thinking that I could help you."
You stared at him, your expression hilariously blank as something deep inside your brain shorted out. You and Astarion hadn't done anything remotely physical since that night and the memories of it hit you out of the blue; everything from the sensations to the sounds washed back through your body like you were reliving it.
The flush that crept up along your neck was enough for you to tug your ankle out of his grip and sit up straighter.
“Oh,” you managed to rasp out, your throat suddenly dreadfully parched and everything that had happened that night raced through your mind. Obscenely good kisses being mouthed over your throat, breathy and salacious and hovering just on the right side of dangerous.
The scrape of fangs that never quite broke the skin but still dared to nip, to tease.
Your nails and how they had raked over his pale, broad shoulders, leaving red lines on his skin. The moan he’d loosed in response to the sting, muscles tensing under your fingertips as his body rolled against yours with a sensuality you could only dream of possessing.
He had quite proudly worn the marks you had left on him around camp the next day. He had forgone a shirt, saying something about the heat and making sure that he had his back to you every time you came into view. He would throw a salacious look over his shoulder, making sure you knew that he was showing off for you and yes, it had caused you to walk into a number of things that day before you had all but hurled a shirt in his direction.
Of course, not before Gale could pipe up- “Those are nasty scratches Astarion. Anyone we know?”
Astarion had caught your eye, a smug smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as he’d shrugged the shirt on over his head.
“Some wild little thing, from the party. She seemed insistent on leaving me something to remember her by,” he’d responded and at the time you had wanted to punch the grin from his face but right now? You were suddenly keen to reenact just how you had given them to him in the first place. He was staring you down, blood red underneath thick white lashes, drinking in every little shift and signal of your body.
“My my my,” he drawled, his head cocking to the side as he trailed his eyes across your face. “Do you blush this much for everyone, little pet? Or are you remembering our wonderful night together? I certainly enjoy recalling it as often as possible. Your breathy little sobs of my name,” he said airily, his tongue sliding out to wet his full bottom lip. Your mouth watered at the sight as rational thought abandoned you with a breezy 'see ya, enjoy getting railed'.
“The way you trembled in my arms as you came. Again. And again. And again .”
With every word, his hands slid further up your legs and all you could really think to do was gulp in nervous lungfuls of air in an attempt to keep your bearings. It wasn’t that Astarion didn’t usually flirt with you; but this was something far more intense and unusually forward even for him.
Lately, your interactions with him had almost bordered on sweet rather than sensual.
You shared secretive smiles, your eyes meeting across the campfire when someone did or said something dreadfully stupid. You would lean your head into his when he beckoned you to look at something, or read over his shoulder, or even when you had no reason to at all. You would sneak up behind him- or more accurately, he would let you sneak up behind him; and rest your chin on his shoulder with a thoughtful sigh.
“Hello, darling,” he would say, fondness permeating through every word and it never failed to draw a shy smile from you. His endless terms of endearment always set free whole hosts of butterflies in your stomach. He seemed to revel in casual touches like he had never had anyone to simply be kind to him before; and it was a gutwrenching realization at the time that he never had. Even something as simple as brushing lint from his shirt earned you a wide eyed, soft look- like you had offered him the world on a plate.
But the hunger on his face right now, hunger for you, as he loomed over you… it was like setting off fireworks in your stomach. A hundred explosive kegs in succession with one another.
Amusement glittered in his eyes at your glazed expression and you finally managed a full thought again as you blinked quite rudely back to reality.
“Um, not that I mind being reminded of our night together Astarion,” you said, clearing your throat in embarrassed arousal. His grin widened, almost predatory as it showed his fangs to you. You swallowed hard, your gaze dropping to his mouth before you could stop yourself. “But can I at least ask why you’re suddenly so- um… so keen to reenact it?” you fell over your words, focused as you were of the soft sheen of his full lower lip and the way his tongue was playing with the wicked point of one sharp tooth.
Astarion had an uncanny ability to throw you off of the scent of his true intentions.
He was incredibly good at it and you supposed that two hundred years of practice might be the reason why.
He could disarm you with a smile, a lingering glance. He made you trip over your words in conversation just by catching a glimpse of those burgundy eyes that bore into you with such fierce intensity that it tangled your foolish tongue in your mouth.
You knew he took great pleasure in doing so in front of other people. He took every opportunity he could to rile you up, get your blood pumping with lust or anger or any number of confusing emotions that blurred into one singular thought that filled your every waking moment; Astarion, Astarion, Astarion.
It was like the very beating of your heart in your chest and when he would come to you in the night, slip his teeth so very carefully through delicate skin and muscle, he often took more than just your blood.
He took with him every semblance of rational thought in your head. Every rule you had once held stern to. Every inhibition that once protected you from roguish, handsome, dangerous men.
But… it had been weeks since the Tiefling’s celebration and weeks since the first and last time you had given him more than just blood.
Yes, you flirted with him relentlessly because it was difficult not to with Astarion. He was a wildfire in a world of flickering candles, burning bright and powerful in the darkness; and you? You were nothing but a moth, drawn in with memories of his hips rolling between your legs and the ecstasy he so freely offered.
After that night it was almost too easy to fall for him and his honeyed words.
But now, after everything that had happened, you were no longer the only one casting lingering glances and longing stares. His eyes often sought you out in the group, looking for your opinion, your guidance, your protection; and despite the fact that he would deny it until the day he died again, Astarion had begun to see you as more than just a source of flirting and food.
Or at least, you had gotten the impression that he did.
You shared your space with him freely, offering your company and to your surprise, he accepted what you gave. The more you learned about him in the quiet of the nights spent together, the harder you fell; and the deeper you got…
The softer Astarion’s gaze became every time he looked at you.
Your interactions became less and less about trying to tempt your legs apart again. Less about having his fill of you when he was hungry.
It was something more.
So why did you suddenly feel like a lamb pinned under the hungry eyes of a wolf?
He was staring at you like he was going to devour you where you sat and he widened his knees where they had been digging into the floor; exhaling despite not having the need to. Gods, he looked sinful kneeling at your feet as he was.
High cheekbones and ivory skin caught the soft orange glow of the lantern above, turning the red of his eyes into molten pools of fire. You were ablaze before you could even think about resisting.
Your breath caught in your throat, drinking in the sight he made. He was so ethereal that sometimes it hurt to breathe around him. How could one draw a breath when a creature sculpted by the fucking Gods walked at your side? Or smiled at you? Or stroked a single finger along your jawline to catch you off guard?
“Are you going to keep me waiting? Wanting? Come along darling,” he bared those glossy white teeth at you in a smile, daring, beckoning; and a shiver so delectable raced along your spine that it tightened the muscles in your thighs involuntarily.
You were dripping wet and he hadn’t done anything more than suggestively proposition you. Perhaps you needed to be put in a cage, you thought dumbly, because no self respecting person should ever become this feral for a man.
“I can smell it on you, you know,” he cooed, his eyes dropping between your parted thighs. All thoughts of clawing back your dignity evaporated as you clenched around nothing, twitching under his gaze and the bastard just knew because his grin widened. “You smell divine, sweet thing. I can tell that you’re soaked just from looking at me. I’m flattered.”
His voice was unnaturally low, his nostrils flaring as he breathed you in and your lack of rebuke seemed enough for him to begin a slow crawl up along your body. Your thighs parted, legs falling open to either side so that he could easily slot himself between them.
He fit on top of you so nicely that it tugged at something warm and sentimental in your chest.
“ Astarion ,” you said at last even though your voice once again threatened to fail you. “Whats brought this on?”
Your trembling hands came up to rest on his slim waist and you were thrown once again when he dragged his nose along the line of your jaw and inhaled the scent of you; your pussy throbbing with want when he sighed out a needy moan. He hummed a playful laugh into your neck, grinding down and you bucked upwards to meet the hard line of his cock.
His laugh was cut short, morphing into a sharp sound of pleasure in his throat before he groaned. Taking your chin with his thumb and forefinger, he led your mouth to meet his with no more preamble. His lips were mercifully cool when he drew you into a languid, lazy kiss that contrasted sharply with the sudden urgency of his movements.
He urged your lips apart and teased your tongue with his own until you obliged; chasing after him when he parted from you. You whined an irritated sound at the loss of his kiss and he laughed again, but allowed you to pull him back down with your fingers tangled into his luscious hair.
No matter the reason for his sudden desire for sex with you, you weren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Not when you still woke in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, trembling from an inadvertent orgasm and longing to slip back into the dream that had caused it.
Then he opened his mouth- the mouth that was now peppering sweet little kisses just underneath your ear- and turned you upside down.
“I simply wish to be useful to you, little pet.”
Your eyes snapped open, freed from their lust filled heaviness in an instant. An icy jolt lanced violently through your gut, cutting through the heat that had been building since he’d pinned you underneath him. Your whole body tensed hard against his but Astarion didn’t even notice your sudden lack of enthusiasm.
Why would he?
He was performing again.
For you.
A consummate professional, so highly skilled at his one purpose in life that he didn't even need to think about his next move. The thought that he was pushing himself into this, into having sex with you to somehow make himself useful, made you feel violently ill.
Still unaware of your mounting horror, he flattened his tongue against your jaw and painted a hot line across it but you weren't about to let him continue with this facade. So, with your palms braced firmly against his chest, you pushed him up and off of you. It didn’t take much effort on your part. Much as you thought, he had barely been paying attention and you were far stronger than your smaller frame gave you cause to be; muscles flexing under your skin with the motion until he was forced to sit on the ground in front of you with a thump.
Astarion made a surprised noise, obviously brought back to the room with a start when he was all but thrown off you without warning.
He blinked owlishly at you and then at the space that you had created between your bodies; taking in your flushed cheeks and heavy breathing with a confused expression melting over his face.
“What on earth are you doing darling?” he finally said, that mask of cheerful flirtation slipping back on and the sight of it painted on his face like a whole other person chilled you to the bone. “I’m all for being eager but this might just take the cake-”
“What did you just say?” you interrupted him without apology, unable to let him puppeteer himself so casually in your presence any longer. Your mouth was drawn into a frown that must have looked far more severe than it felt because Astarion suddenly looked a little nervous .
That long, pale, beautiful throat bobbed when he swallowed back whatever he'd been about to answer.
Moments passed in an increasingly tense silence, with your hard stare on his face and him obviously unprepared for being confronted about his sudden desire to fuck you into the ground. If it had been anyone else, he would have been allowed to simply continue with the facade because who would, realistically, turn down this beautiful creature attempting to seduce them?
You were made of sterner stuff than most, though.
“Whatever do you mean?" he laughed nervously. "I was simply waxing lyrical for you, my dear. You’ve never heard of dirty talk before?”
The answer was infuriating for so many reasons but mainly because he was clearly about to try and play it off as an act that he had been putting on for your benefit. He’d been about to force himself into sex for reasons currently beyond your comprehension, to make himself useful to you and still he couldn’t admit that he had been disassociating.
Did he really think that you would be happy to continue, knowing that he was pretending to be somewhere else? Knowing that he was simply going to go through the motions because he thought that it’s what you might want? The mere thought of it had brought your arousal to a screeching halt.
Now your back was up, fear and concern battling for the top position in your chest.
“I want to know what you meant by that,” you said firmly, not budging an inch. He could be as pretty and alluring as he wanted but when you desired an answer to a question, there was very little that would stand in the way of you getting it.
You didn’t know what he would attempt to say when he answered.
Predictably, Astarion went straight for the disarming smile. The scoffing laugh that could so easily turn the tables and make it seem like you were being the unreasonable one. Like you were behaving strangely for having pushed him away.
Like he hadn’t just said something so unsettling that it was making your stomach tight and uncomfortable just thinking about it.
“Gods, darling! I simply meant… Well, I meant that you’ve seemed awfully uptight these past few days and it’ll help you relax,” he crooned, his eyes pleading for you to drop the conversation and get back to what you were doing moments ago. Back to what he knew how to do best. A bead of sweat rolled from his forehead and down, across his temple.
In any other situation, you would have had no trouble brushing it off of him. You would have reached out and thumbed a line across his skin, reveling in the simple excuse to touch him if just for a moment.
Now he was outright lying to you, his body language turning agitated and cagey underneath your scrutiny. He seemed to curl in on himself despite not moving an inch. Fuck, you would have brushed the comment off if he’d simply wandered in and offered something else.
Anything else.
A kiss. A massage. A fucking poetry recital.
Something that didn’t hold some deep seated, horrific trauma for him; but he had gone straight to sex in order to help you ‘ relax’ and now you were achingly concerned that he wasn’t as okay as he’d insisted he was these past few days.
Your expression softened as you pushed yourself onto your knees.
“Astarion,” you said, voice searching. “You were an ocean away from me; going through the motions. You weren’t enjoying yourself.”
His expression dropped and he pulled back, his demeanor suddenly ice cold. The suddenness of it threw you off, having never seen him flip quite so quickly before.
“What, was my hard cock not enough proof for you? Did you need some other kind of indication that I was having fun?” he sneered, cold steel walls coming up around him as he snarled at your attempt to break through. You were undeterred despite the hurt that threatened to prod at your soft heart. He didn’t mean the words he spat in anger, you knew that by now.
Astarion had always been extremely reactive to any attempt at sympathy, so instead you reached for his wrist to stop him when he went to stand. You didn’t want him to put distance between you when he was clearly hurting.
“Forget it,” he snapped, yanking his hand away and that did cut you.
It flashed across your face before you had the chance to hide it but if he noticed, it didn’t deter him from trying to protect whatever vulnerability you had just bared to the air like an open wound. “You know what? Next time I’ll simply send one of those lesser oafs in to fuck you. It’s clearly not worth the bloody effort.”
You swallowed back the wave of hurt and irritation that threatened to spill forth, desperately chanting to yourself that he was simply scared of being vulnerable. That he was attempting to protect his wounded heart from what he probably saw as a rejection.
But still.
You were technically the innocent party here. Ten minutes ago you had been quietly reading your book and hoping that he would stop by; just so you could show him your little haul from last night's adventure into the woods. You had been looking forward to those soft silences that you would often sink into with him, content to simply exist in each others space.
He was the one who had barged in and thrown himself on top of you, kissing any sort of sense and cleverness right out of your head as he did so. He was still talking, throwing vitriol at you as though it would take back whatever he had just attempted to do.
As if he talked loud enough that you wouldn’t linger on the vulnerability in his voice.
“What about Gale, hmm? Would you let him between your legs-”
“Astarion!” you balked, your voice dripping with anger at his boorish attempt to somehow make this your fault. He stopped moving instantly, eyes widening because you never snapped in anger at anyone. Once again, his throat bobbed as he swallowed and the staring match between you was only broken when he looked away first, frowning; although whether it was because of his own behavior or the way you had suddenly defended yourself so fiercely, you remained unsure.
A beat of silence passed between you, your blood rushing in your ears. He stood without warning, his breathing labored and catching in his throat. It caused a little, hitching sound every time he inhaled and it softened your ire almost instantly.
Fuck, you couldn’t even stay angry at him for longer than twenty seconds. You were pathetically helpless in the face of this man's trauma.
“Astarion,” you began, your voice softer than before. He didn’t raise his eyes to yours. “Were… were you offering to have sex with me… so I would think you’re of use ?”
The words felt heavy on your tongue, like tar; and you almost choked on them.
Even thinking of how he felt himself worth so little spread a sickly sensation through your body. It clogged your lungs like smog, gritty and uncomfortable. The knowledge that he had spent the past two hundred years offering himself up as some kind of pretty token, using his body as though he was worth nothing; because it no longer belonged to him.
Any anger left in you died immediately.
Astarion’s whole body went so still that you were worried he had simply died standing up. He didn’t even breathe. The distant glassy look in his eyes wrenched something in your chest in such an extreme and violent way that had you not already been sitting down, you might have simply fallen over.
While he might have been looking straight at you, his gaze refused to meet yours head on. It lingered just off to the left, resting above your shoulder and something deep down in your gut whispered to you that this is what he would have been like had you let him continue.
Detached. Disassociated.
Pretending that he was enjoying it all in some misguided effort to please you; his hamfisted attempt to make himself indispensable to you.
The thought was achingly painful. Didn’t he know that he already was? Didn’t he know that you thought the world of him?
Didn’t he know that you often daydreamed about beating Cazador to death with your bare hands, should you ever get close enough to him? Or that you would stand between him and a thousand monster hunters before you ever let one of them have him?
How did he not know?
Eventually, Astarion moved away from you, taking an unsteady step back. He looked so unfocused. Lost even. You longed to reach out for him again but he was barely in the room with you now, wandering in thoughts and memories and his lips parted once, twice, three times before any words came out.
“It’s the only way I know how to be useful,” he said thickly and your lungs simply stopped functioning for such a long moment that you wondered if you would ever breathe again. Your heart clenched painfully, a deep seated ache that longed to comfort him welling up in your chest. “Forgive me. I won’t impose on you any longer.”
He turned on his heels and was gone, ducking out into the warm evening air without a hint of his usual flourish; almost stumbling over himself in an effort to put some distance between you.
It was like watching a completely different person leave and your head span with all of the events and emotions that had just been crammed into the space of his visit.
Scrambling to your feet, you ran to the edge of your tent and stuck your head out in search of him. His name died on your tongue even though you wanted to call him back, hold him to you until you could convince him that he was worth so much more than he thought of himself; but the fire had died completely now and the night was black.
Darkness hugged Astarion like a second skin when he desired it to do so.
You stood framed in the square of inviting light from your lantern for a long moment, frowning into the warm air and hoping that he would come back to you. It took a while for you to come to terms with the fact that he was not going to return tonight.
Reluctantly, with your heart dreadfully heavy, you retreated to your bedroll and threw yourself down onto it. Your book lay abandoned still on the floor and it seemed like a lifetime had passed since you had been reading it.
You were haunted by the distance in his eyes as he’d backed away from you. It was like he was back with him with no-one to protect him again. The thought strangled you, digging icy fingers into your heart. All those years and he had never had another person to stand between him and danger. To stand up for him.
To tell him that he was worth more, worth kindness, worth love.
Fuck.
You were crying now. Big, fat tears that pooled in the corners of your eyes before spilling down across your cheeks. You grit your teeth hard to keep the sound of it in, scrubbing at your face roughly; angrily even. Everything about Astarion tugged on your heartstrings, even if he would balk at the very notion of someone feeling sorry for him. It wasn't pity on your part. It was more like a deep feeling of unfairness at the hand life had dealt someone as sweet as him.
You threw yourself backwards, thumping onto your bed roll and glaring up at the canvas roof above.
Tomorrow.
You would seek him him out and make him understand tomorrow.
Even if you had to spell it out for him.