Chapter Text
Astarion could not meditate—-how could he? He needed to remain vigilant, what if Tav needed him and he wasn’t there? What if he missed his one and only chance to say goodbye, should his worst fears be confirmed? No, it was much too important for him to chance anything. Halsin, unwilling to let Astarion wallow in his own sorrows, remained awake at his side. It did help his anxiety, if something did go wrong, Halsin would know what to do. He was a master of healing, between Astarion’s keen senses and Halsin’s knowledge, it eased some of his nerves in this barbaric wait. The minutes seemed to stretch on for tiny eternities, hours felt like centuries, and yet it did feel as if time merely froze to torment him more. The only other time something this dreadful had affected his perfection of time was when he was locked away in some tomb for a year.
He had cried until his voice went hoarse, and then sobbed more. Despite the breaking of his heart, his body stopped shuddering. Against the whispers inside his mind, his eyes stopped their tears. And left in silence, he stopped babbling broken phrases. He was tired, exhausted, but his brain wouldn’t slow down. His thoughts never trickled down, staying a mighty flood of what if’s as well as morbid flashbacks to Tav’s pained face and breathless collapse. He lays on his side, with Halsin’s bulk at his back, spooning the Arch-Druid. Halsin’s warmth was welcomed, and Astarion held Tav’s hand in the one that wasn’t holding Halsin’s arm. Together, they were a pile of limbs, all motionless. If nobody knew better, someone could mistake them as sleeping.
The wood elf didn’t comment on anything, quiet company as he let the vampire process things on his own. It was very grounding, the scent of his dear bear, the heat enveloping him, the safety, the care, and the weight. The Druid’s presence alone seemed to quell just a fraction of Astarion’s fear, which meant everything to him. Halsin traced random patterns over his skin, which kept the vampire from sliding into the dark recesses of his mind, kept him focused and present. Not wanting to exclude Tav, the spawn squeezed their hand every once in a while. Tav looked more peaceful after their combined efforts to treat them, and it brings him some relief to believe they weren’t being terrorized inside their dreams. Simple victories, he would take whatever he could get.
It felt like eons before Wyll arrived back in camp with a red bottle. It’s not the same cylinder he’s used to, nor the wide circle flask, but one rather robust. He recognizes it as a supreme potion of healing, he also recognizes the obvious empty pouch halfway stuffed into the warlock’s pocket. Ah, of course, now was a splendid time for the nobles to exploit the affected and poor. Astarion would turn his nose up in disgust, but he was overwhelmed with adrenaline at laying eyes on the potion. He can’t tear himself away from the Druid fast enough, jerking promptly out of those burly arms and bee-lining right for the horned figure entering camp.
“Slow down!” Wyll reprimands, holding the potion high behind him as he attempts to fend off the thieving vampire. “Hold it!”
”Can’t you see I’m trying?” He quips unhelpfully, easily coiling around the warlock as he sidesteps away. Wyll is no match for his dexterity, and Astarion’s hands quickly find purchase against the bottle. Once he successfully tugged it free from the other’s grip, he flashed the warlock a smirk. “Thank you, dearest, but I’ll take it from here.”
Wyll looks like he wants to argue, but upon fast recognition, the Blade of Frontiers thinks better of it. Astarion is left free to go, and he can’t get the excitement out of his walk as he rushes back. Halsin had risen, pushing himself into a sitting position, one large hand holding Tav’s head up slightly. The commotion roused Shadowheart, who rubs at her eyes blearily, she mumbles for an explanation and nods slowly as Karlach fills her in. Now, everyone waits with bated breath.
To say he’s nervous would be an understatement. He is terrified. He hasn’t prepared himself for what would happen if they didn’t wake up. He hadn’t prepared himself to say goodbye, even if the thought had been haunting him all night, he was no more ready to accept it than he was to merrily return to hiding from the sun. The druid is a reassuring reminder, passive and comforting, encouraging Astarion with a silent nod as he paused. This had to work, this must work, for he cannot go on without them. They’re much too important to do without now. He does not want to return to the way he was before, miserable, lonely, and petrified of others. What if losing Tav was the trigger to losing them all? What if the rest of them fell next, what if they simply began to hate him, no one would be there to reconcile or interrupt late night fights.
The elf uncorks the bottle, praying to the Gods or whatever would be willing to listen, for this to do the trick. Halsin holds them steady as Astarion presses the lid of the potion to their lips.
“Perfect,” Halsin praises. And the vampire isn’t sure if it’s meant to bolster him or Tav, either way, it was welcomed. “Easy, now.”
He pours slowly, remembering when he had sputtered and choked on dirt after clawing his way out of his own grave. He might no longer need to breathe or need air, but the feeling remains with him. Astarion refuses to subject them to anything similar, anything close, to that. Barely a trickle disappearing past their agape mouth, for a few long moments, they all wait anxiously. It’s only when he tilts the potion more, offering more down Tav’s bruised throat, does movement catch his eyes. He spies, fixates, on the way their neck contracted. Swallowing, they were swallowing it.
They were alive.
He felt the tears sliding down his jaw before he noticed the stinging of his eyes, but he couldn’t be bothered to wipe them away. A relieved chuckle leaves his lips, he feels almost delirious with joy whenever he notices a louder lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub streaming from their bandaged chest. His eyes flicker towards their leg, watching the muscle slowly draw up together, as if reversing in front of his eyes. It seemed to be shrinking, going from around their entire leg to barely above a simple gash. Their breathing is stronger, he can now fully see their chest rise and fall, and they sputter as he clumsily gave too much liquid.
“Dreadfully sorry, darling.” He sings with warmth, quickly retracting the bottle in favor of holding their chin. He wipes the edges of their mouth, where just a bit of the healing potion had haphazardly fallen to. Their skin feels less chilled, he thinks he can see some of the color returning. “Drink a bit more for me, yes, that’s it. Wonderful, that’s- that’s perfect my love.”
They stayed that way for many minutes, offering little sips of the potion and pausing as Tav either gulped or coughed it back. Astarion was patient, as was the druid, and Gale. Wyll and Karlach took it upon themselves to make use elsewhere, watching the shadows of the city as they nurse Tav back to life. It would be a prime opportunity for an attack or ambush to be awaiting them. The group would ensure that wouldn’t happen, Lae’zel seems to have finished brewing something. It’s not a healing potion, quite the opposite, as the liquid drains the vibrancy of whatever it landed on. Astarion would assume it’s some sort of poison, perhaps acid, although the color was….off. It mattered little to him, as the Githyanki set up traps around their camp, he would be occupied in the meantime anyway.
As Tav drained the last drop from the bottle, they seemed to sigh. Their weight sags against Halsin, however not from staggering on the edge of life and death. This felt more as if Tav were relaxing against the bear, ready for a good night’s rest. This time, as Astarion moved to wipe their lips, their nose twitched. He felt inclined to shout in celebration, but let the feeling remain bottled inside his ribs. It would be rude to wake them now, when they finally seemed to be truly resting. They must be exhausted, he was, he’s sure they all were.
“Shall I still heal them with a spell?” Shadowheart questions, her voice is polite as she drops to join Gale’s side.
“Couldn’t hurt.” The wizard shrugs, just as high with relief from the tension. “I imagine it would only benefit more than harm, better to be safe than to be sorry.”
“Astarion?” Shadowheart calls him softly, waiting for him to acknowledge her. He doesn’t look at her, how could he when they were nuzzling into his palm? Their eyes seemed to search for him behind their eyelids, their weight shifting closer, the vampire scoots near. He is about to utter sweet nothings to them before he remembers—- he has company.
“Yes, dove?” He replies back, eyes swimming with affection. He brushes their hair back once more, if only to catch more proof of their liveliness. “Oh- Ah. Right, yes, can’t hurt.” He agrees.
Shadowheart takes to Tav’s other side as Halsin rearranges himself into the background. The cleric closes her eyes, her hands laid out slightly above Tav’s body before she calls forth her magic. It was a gentle teal, lighting under her eyes and surging around their hands, compelled into existence. Shadowheart waved her hands as she chanted before forcing it down, as if cramming it into Tav’s very soul without ever touching them. Their body arched, as if drawing closer to the spell and its caster, before they laid limply again into the blankets. Astarion is pleased to see the remains of the bruising completely vanishing.
“Rest, Halsin.” Shadowheart relents, dropping her hands into her lap as she rests a moment longer. “We need everybody energized, in case.”
“I thank you,” Halsin says quietly. His head dips in a respectful nod, stretching his arms over his head mindfully. Astarion doesn’t mind being left in his own little world, now that he knows Tav will come around upon sunrise. He will lecture them endlessly, he’s sure, and never let them out of his reach again. He’ll always race in front of them, even if it was only to escort them to their tent. He wouldn’t let anyone have the chance to hurt Tav, wouldn’t let anyone within touching distance of them. “You should rest too, my heart.”
“I will,” Astarion waves him off. He isn’t afraid to draw closer to their sleeping figure, peeping under their bandages and smiling. The heavy scent of blood and misery has evaporated from their tiny camp, replaced by sweat and overwhelming relief. He knows Halsin can smell it too, what’s better is the fragrance of pure unleashed adrenaline coming from Tav’s body. A mixture of musk, restlessness, and a cool contentment. All ordors aside, they no longer reeked of death, no longer smelled like a mutilated corpse of the Absolute. Instead, they smell more like them. He didn’t know he could miss such things. “In a bit.”
“You must be weary.” The Druid presses, already finding a comfortable position to glance over at the elf. But, the vampire was too absorbed in the melody of Tav’s steady heart, propping himself up on his elbows as he laid down beside his beloved. “They will awake long after you, if I had to guess. You won’t miss their first moments.”
“I just-..” He falls silent, he just what? Not even he knew what was going to fall from his lips. He can’t explain the sheer high he’s on, happy seems too light a word to use. Excited, thrilled, static, overjoyed, all seemed like an injustice to describe this feeling. He has been gifted his everything back again, after nearly losing it all. Cazador and his freedom be damned, he wouldn’t have been able to enjoy any of it without them. He’s proud to be able to journey at their side for years longer, happy to argue with them over big and little spoon, or who gets to keep a treasure chest. Tav, for finding it, or Astarion, for lockpicking it? It all seemed annoying, trivial, but he recognizes it as much more now. A blessing, a mercy, a dream come true.
Upon gazing at their peaceful face, he can’t help the expression that melts his demeanor. He loves them, gods too much, and not entirely enough. He doesn’t know or yet understand why Tav stays with him, but he will work harder to become a person they can be proud of. He will work harder to become the person they see him as, not the monstrous vampire or the seductive toy, but as a person. As himself.
Even at rest, they continue to grace him with so many gifts. He doesn’t think an eternity would be enough to provide them the happiness they’ve granted him, but he’ll damn well try.
“I see.” Halsin says gently, a grin gracing his rugged looks. He doesn’t say much more, turning over slightly to rest his head on his pillow, and quickly Astarion noted the slow beat of the bear’s strong heart. The Druid rushing off to dreamland and leaving them far behind. How…cute.
Astarion isn’t sure how much time passes after that. He burns every small detail of Tav into his mind, silently, previously terrorized by the thought of forgetting their face should they have died. It’s no secret his desire to perceive his own appearance, however selfish or vain some might think of it, and he worried the same would happen with Tav. He has an eternity to live, which proved too long a time, he’s learned. And in all that time, he has lost his very own image. He does not remember what he had previously looked like, nor what he currently looks like as a spawn. He only has what others have told him, or the sparse memories Tav has shared with their tadpole. He would rather take a stake to the heart than ever forget what their face looked like.
He lays beside them, throws an arm around their middle, and stares. He watches their chest rise and fall, listens to their breaths and slow heartbeat, and feels the warmth underneath his touch. He isn’t sure when he closed his eyes, nor how long he slept, but before he knew it the sun was beginning to coax him awake.
He keeps his eyes closed, lulled by the heat he’s curled around and the soft exhales of his lover into his neck. Somewhere in their sleep, they sought one another out. Whether he had been the one responsible, or Tav, Astarion stayed with them wrapped up in his own embrace. Halsin, who had fallen asleep first, joined their pile as well at some point. He was on Tav’s other side, their legs and hips glued to the druid as their upper half remained with the vampire. With a concentrated effort, he opened his eyes and stretched his spine. At a satisfying pop, the elf listens for the rest of their camp.
He hears the crackle of the fire, the clinking of someone mixing something, the sharpening of weapons. He can tell Gale has begun breakfast, can smell the scent of cooking meat as well as hear him mumbling herbs under his breath. Either Lae’zel or Shadowheart is taking care of their weapons, judging by the distance of the sound. He listens hard for Wyll, and is satisfied whenever he catches the end of Karlach’s voice taunting the Blade. Everything seems to be going as normal, and the steady heartbeat beside him is music to his ears. Tav, as well as Halsin, continue to doze off beside him. He carefully detangles himself away from their little pile, seeking out the wizard of all people.
“Morning, Astarion.” Gale hummed thoughtfully, stirring whatever he had conquered up inside the large pot before them both. “Rest well?”
“Well enough.” He answered back quietly, accepting the wooden spoon the wizard silently asked him to take. The vampire watched as Gale turned to grab a cutting board, sliding in chopped herbs with a flick of his blade.
“How’s Tav?” Gale paused to catch Astarion’s eyes, the worry concealed well behind the other’s busy-work. He begins to think Gale isn’t just cooking to feed his companions, he thinks it’s more likely to keep himself distracted, to be useful somehow. The spawn understands, giving a small smile to the fretting man.
“Sleeping soundly.” Astarion offers the spoon back, gathering two bowls and holding them out. “You’d never guess the scare we all had, I dare say they’ve made a full recovery.”
“That’s wonderful news.” Gale beams, pouring the hot mixture into both bowls respectively. “That only leaves the Netherbrain for us to worry about, now that Orin’s fallen.”
“One catastrophe at a time, my dear.” The vampire scolds, turning on his heel to return to the shared tent. No, he wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of sending Tav into battle so soon. But he understands that they didn’t have much choice. It was only a matter of time before the Netherbrain began its reign of terror. As much as he favored the idea of taking control of the damned thing to prolong his time in the sun, he knows Tav’s heart is rather troubled at the moment. It was their choice to make, being the main one in The Emperor’s plan, and Astarion found a new appreciation in their judgment.
Whether the sound of his soft footsteps roused the bear, or the smell of breakfast, Halsin rose to his senses. He grumbled a bit at first, his massive arm curling tighter around the body pressed against him. A small sound escaped Tav, which seemed to truly wake the druid’s brain, as his movements soon froze. With eyes opening fast, Astarion chuckled, leaving his previous spot beside Tav in favor of sitting beside the druid.
“Fear not,” The elf grins. “They’re very much asleep, my love.”
Halsin seemed to melt back into his bedroom at the reassurance, and Astarion could not fight the laugh that bubbled from his throat. The giant wood elf slowly slipped his arm from Tav, sitting up muttering his thanks as Astarion passed him the steaming bowl. The bear blew gently on the spoon, quick to start eating. After everything yesterday, he would imagine they were all starving.
They sit together, Astarion leaning his head to rest on Halsin’s broad shoulder, while the other finished his meal. The vampire held the last bowl in his lap, hoping that Tav would wake soon before it grew too cold. They could always warm it up, but he’s heard Karlach mention that food tasted best fresh from the pot. It’s been much too long for him to remember what leftovers tasted like, but he remembers the sentiment ringing true. He watches the steam leaving the bowl, pleased at the serenity in this one moment.
It felt as if the world had taken a pause, giving them a much needed break. If only the circumstances hadn’t been so dire.
“If you wish, I can remain here with them so you can hunt.” Halsin offers sweetly, setting his now empty bowl aside.
“No thank you.” Astarion declines, not wanting the moment to end just yet. Who knew what awaited him outside this tent, their camp? It could be a horde of new monsters ready to descend upon them all, or just another stray seeking shelter, whatever the case– Astarion did not want to lose their newfound peace. He would prolong it, if even just five minutes more.
“Are you still nervous?” Halsin asks after some time, and the spawn feels the druid’s massive hand at his back. It warms through his silky shirt, hitting his cold skin, and the spawn relishes in the gesture.
“A bit.” He answers truthfully, watching the rest of their companions slink to the fire to grab breakfast. “Mostly, I suppose, I just don’t wish to start my morning without them.”
“Would it be your first?” The bear questions gently, pulling the vampire closer into his side. Astarion considers the prompt, gaze dropping Tav’s empty tent.
Ever since the crash, he doesn’t think he has ever begun his day without their smiling face. At every campsite they made, he went to bed after Tav dragged him over towards the fire for warmth. They would fall asleep, all four of them, and Astarion would slink off into the forest back then. He remembers returning before sunrise, remembers falling into a small trance, and waking when Tav roused next to him. It seemed the quickening of their heart prompted him to stir, and they both sat up to register their surroundings.
“Yes,” Astarion’s voice is small. He hadn’t considered that at all, that is, until now. Last night had been the first time he went to sleep without some late night conversation with his love. He was hesitant to have another first today, his first morning without sharing conversation with Tav. “It would.”
“You love them a great deal.” Halsin comments affectionately, watching the vampire as he considers more things than he would care to admit out loud. “There is no shame in prolonging the day. I admit, I am also rather despondent about beginning mine without them as well.”
Astarion does not say anything back, he doesn’t know whether he even should. It’s a delicate conversation, about a topic that frightens him, and he doesn’t want to entertain the notion any further. He focuses on the heat nestled inside his palms, and the smell of pine and frankincense at his side.
“I love you too.” He hears a raspy tone murmur, breaking his thoughts just in the nick of time. He would rather avoid going down such a dark line of thinking, and he wonders why Halsin’s voice would sound so shaken all of a sudden.
“My, my,” Astarion snickers. He glances smugly at the druid, lips pulling into a wide smile that flashed his fangs. “Losing your nerve, dear bear?”
“That wasn’t me.” Halsin says quietly, eyes widening at the same time as the spawn’s.
The pair whip their gazes to their left, catching the glimmering eyes of someone rather unexpected.
Tav, with a pleasant grin and tired eyes, was curled on their side and watching the two. They seemed content, their scent radiating with glee that reminded Astarion of something citrus-y. The vampire finds himself swallowing, despite his throat and mouth feeling dry and hanging agape. He almost drops the bowl he’s holding, surging to his knees fast. Halsin remained glued to the spot, silently working through his own shock.
The sound of Tav’s chuckle forced his undead heart to throb inside his chest, watching their shoulders jostle with each giggle. They were awake, Tav was awake.
“Good morning to you, too.” They laughed, remaining where they were even as Astarion tripped climbing over Halsin’s lap. Astarion couldn’t hardly believe his eyes, or ears.
“You’ve been up this whole time!” Astarion shrieks, only saved from falling flat on his face by Halsin’s hand steadying his hips. The druid was more focused on gathering the frantic vampire from leaping at their leader than interrogating them. Astarion disapproved.
“Not this whole time,” Tav burst out laughing. Slowly, they picked themselves up. Their hand grasp gently on Astarion’s cheek, effectively stilling the spawn in his place. Their smile was dazzling after going so long without it, and he found himself grateful to be undead. Otherwise, he was sure his face would be shining red. “Just for a few minutes.”
Oh, gods.