Chapter Text
Astarion eyed Tav anxiously as she spoke with Halsin across the camp. He couldn’t see her entire face, but her profile was enough for him to know that it was a serious conversation. Not light-hearted joking, not a quick check-in. Not normal. And the way Halsin was looking at Tav, like he wanted to eat her alive, was enough for Astarion to know that he was right to be nervous.
Astarion was not an idiot. A smitten, love-struck fool, perhaps, but not an idiot. He knew about Lae’zel and Karlach’s advances and Shadowheart’s little crush. Tav was enticing. Attractive, and not just for her looks. Her attention was addicting, her presence magnetic. Early on, every interaction left Astarion hungry for more. Others had to feel the same way.
But Lae’zel, Karlach, Shadowheart—they were before there was anything real between himself and Tav. Before there was a name, or a feeling, or anything beyond the scant hope of protection. Things were real now, and somehow more fragile. There was more pressure, when the mask came off and affection was laid bare. Relationships came with certain expectations, and Astarion was certain, despite Tav’s reassurances and support, that he was fulfilling next to none of them.
Other people would, given the chance.
He stiffened as he caught both Tav and Halsin glancing at him, his face surely bright red. He whirled around so his blush wouldn’t give him away and tried to appear busy. But how to be busy? Shoving his nose in the Necromancy of Thay would look like a good use of time…except he’d already read about the ritual, and anything past that made his head swirl. Gale could probably use some help cleaning up after supper…except Astarion didn’t want to wash dishes, and being so helpful would only make everyone suspect him of being up to something. Lae’zel would spar with him if he asked her to, and fighting for his life would at least take his mind off whatever could be so interesting about Halsin…except Lae’zel didn’t pull punches, and Astarion wanted to avoid broken bones whenever possible.
Before he could decide, Tav was making her way over to his tent. Astarion hurriedly snatched up a shirt that needed mending and pretended to inspect the rip in its armpit, fully-absorbed in his work. Tav stopped just on the edge of his rugs, toeing the line between the camp at large and his personal space. She was always good about that, respecting his boundaries, not shoving her way in.
His heart gave a rather painful tug.
She cleared her throat, and Astarion pretended to only just notice her, making a show of turning around. He gave her his best, most winsome smile—or, what was supposed to be his best smile, but what pulled on his face like a grimace. “Oh, hello, darling. I didn’t notice you walk over.”
She didn’t greet him as she usually did. She seemed frazzled. Nervous. “Can I come in?” she asked, in a low voice.
His heart began to sink. “Of course,” he replied, and held the tent flaps open for her as she walked into his tent after him. It was dark inside, the only light sneaking in when the breeze blew the flaps open. He waited a painful beat before he thought to light a lantern, and the soft, warm glow of it on Tav’s face made his heart sink faster.
This was it. Had to be. She was going to tell him that she needed more and she could get more from someone else and he would sit quietly in the shadows as she forgot him. He’d been waiting for this inevitability since the moment she said she cared for him, and now it was here.
Her expression was deadly serious. “You won’t believe the conversation I just had with Halsin.”
And there it was. Confirmation, just like that. The hilarity of it all struck Astarion at a rather inconvenient moment, and a harsh cackle escaped him. “Ha!” He flicked away some moisture in the corner of his eye—not tearful moisture, of course. Normal moisture that had nothing to do with being dumped, or set aside, or whatever was about to happen. “Ah, I was wondering when you were going to ask me about this.”
Her brow wrinkled, as if she was confused what he could mean, and it stoked the fire of irritation in him. He wasn’t an idiot. He’d known he wasn’t enough all this time. Everyone could see it, and Astarion had been bracing for impact for what felt like years. Of course he knew.
“You knew he was going to do that and you didn’t tell me?” she asked. “Did he talk to you about it?”
He scoffed—from both his irritation and the suggestion that Halsin’s feelings were subtle enough to require a conversation. “I guessed,” he replied. “The man can’t stay quiet about ‘enjoying the freedom of Nature’s gifts.’” His admittedly poor impression of Halsin put him in a slightly better mood. Only slightly, though, because petty jabs only healed so much when it came to games of love. “I bet he’d outlaw clothing if he could.”
Tav didn’t respond to his joke. She only furrowed her eyebrows further. “I think I’m in shock, honestly. I can’t believe he said that. The whole idea is so…” She shook her head, seemingly at a loss for words. “Random. I hadn’t gotten that impression from him before. And he’s really not my type.”
“Oh, you don’t have to say that to soothe my feelings, darling. I’m happy for you to have as much Halsin as you wish,” Astarion said, which was a blatant and total lie, but he was happier to have some of her affection than none of it at all. She opened her mouth to respond, but he barreled on before she could say more. “I do have one question, though. It’s not because we…you know…haven’t, in a while?”
“Gods, no!” she exclaimed. “He has no idea. I haven’t told anyone about that.” She laid a hand on his forearm. “It’s none of their business what we choose to do or don’t.”
He patted her hand awkwardly. “Well, that’s very…sweet, but I was asking about you, my dear.”
She gave him a confused look. “I don’t understand.”
Astarion had to stop himself from groaning in exasperation. It wouldn’t help to shut the conversation down, and it certainly wouldn’t make him feel better about the whole ordeal. Of course, nothing would make him feel better in this scenario, but shoving her into Halsin’s arms without even trying to find a reason would make him feel worse. In his most patient voice, he said, “I’m asking if you’re interested in Halsin because of our sex life. Or rather, lack thereof.”
Tav’s mouth flapped open and shut, but she was unable to make a sound.
Astarion had to find somewhere else to look before he did something embarrassing and desperate. No need to add ‘sniveling wretch’ to his list of inadequacies. “I’m aware that our circumstances are…unusual, to say the least, and I’m sure you had a rather different idea of what our relationship would be like. I understand if you need—”
But Tav interrupted him before he could get the full sentence out.
“Is that honestly what you think of me?” she said angrily. “That I’m some insatiable sex addict who can’t go without for…how long has it even been? A month? Do you really think so little of me?” And this was a strange tone to be on the receiving end of; Astarion was nearly always the object of her adoration, rather than her ire. He’d heard it a hundred times, but never aimed at him. It struck him as rather strange, being that he was giving her carte blanche to sleep with someone else—with Halsin, the enormous druid, of all people.
He blinked at her in shocked silence, which Tav seemed to take as a sign to continue her tirade, getting more and more worked up as she went.
“If all I wanted out of a relationship was sex, I wouldn’t be standing here, now would I? I happen to like you as a person, but I guess I’m so shallow that you didn’t think such a thing was possible! For the gods’ sake, Astarion,” she exclaimed, throwing her arms out beside her, “I have two working hands! Two of them! When I want to orgasm, I don’t need anyone’s help, thank you very much! Not yours, and especially not Halsin’s.”
He had to ignore the latter half of that particular rant. It was difficult to ignore and he wouldn’t ignore it for long, but he couldn’t talk her down while distracted. “Love, I didn’t mean to imply—”
“How dare you,” she interrupted. “How dare you try your sweet little pet names right now.”
Astarion snapped his mouth shut. Oh. This was well and truly a fight. And for her to refuse a pet name, she had to be well and truly pissed off.
This was uncharted territory for Astarion. Tav hadn’t been angry with him when he tried to drink her blood while she slept, or even when he admitted to manipulating her. She’d been disappointed, of course. Exasperated, often. Once or twice, she had even ventured into snappish, but she’d never been angry.
A very small part of him was ecstatic they’d been in a functioning relationship long enough to have their first fight. The rest of him was cold with anxiety.
She gave him a hard look. “Be honest with me: are you really okay with opening up our relationship? Is that something you’ve been waiting for?”
“Uh. I…suppose?” he answered meekly. It was supposed to be the safest, most appeasing, least objectionable answer, but Tav’s face fell. All her anger disappeared, replaced by something vulnerable and gutted.
“So you…I thought…” She stopped, took a deep breath, and cast her gaze somewhere near where the firelight slipped under his tent. Astarion’s heart stopped drifting downward and went into freefall. “We never talked about boundaries, or what we wanted this to look like,” she murmured. “I assumed we were on the same page, but…you know what they say about assuming.”
Safe to say that after this conversation, Astarion was never going to assume anything again, because he had no idea what was going on.
Tav met his eyes, her upper lip trembling from the effort of keeping it still. “Well, then,” she said in a watery voice. “I guess this is goodbye.”
He choked on nothing. “Excuse me?”
“You want an open relationship and I don’t. Putting this off is only going to make it more painful, so we just need to cut our losses now.”
“No, no, I don’t want to break up,” he said desperately. “Why do we need to break up? I want to be with you.” He snatched her hands up to his chest, panicking at the very real prospect that he was going to lose the first person he’d cared about in two hundred years. And he’d been bracing for it, sure, but bracing for impact and actually impacting were two very different things.
She closed her eyes, even as her fingers curled around his and held on tight. “I don’t want to break up either, but this isn’t going to work. Our ideas about relationships are incompatible. I don’t want you to be unhappy.”
“I’m not unhappy. I’m very happy!”
“But you won’t be. I want a committed, closed relationship, and I can’t force you to be satisfied with that. It isn’t fair for either of us. I wish it had come up earlier, but I didn’t think—"
“I want commitment!” he blurted. Tav opened her eyes, letting tears spill down her cheeks. “I want commitment,” he said again, breathlessly. “I want it to be just us.”
She was confused again, which was so much better than tearful. Hells, he preferred spitting mad over tearful. “So what was all that before?” she asked. “About Halsin and—and getting my fill?”
“I was attempting to…appease you, truth be told.”
“Well, don’t do that, you mad bastard!” she exclaimed. Her sharp tone was offset by the way she threw herself into his arms, hiding her face in his shirt. A few moments later, in a muffled voice, she asked, “…Why?”
Astarion rested his chin on her head and rubbed his hands up and down her back, mapping out each curve of her spine. “Because of course Halsin propositioned you. Who wouldn’t? You’re wonderful. And I know you must be frustrated with our arrangement—”
“Why would I be frustrated?”
He fumbled for words. “I, well…there are certain…expectations in a relationship. This all started with a debauched seduction and me playing the part of the rakehell. Not…this.”
She looked up at him, eyes brimming with tears again. “Oh, Astarion.”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you were frustrated,” he added hastily. “I’m not upset. I’m just…sad, I suppose.” And he wasn’t all that surprised to find sad was the right word for it.
Tav unwound her hand from his waist and reached up to cup his cheek. She looked at him so softly, like he was something precious, like he deserved this. He sighed, quite involuntarily, as he leaned into her warmth. “Astarion,” she said gently, “I mean it when I say I’m satisfied with us. I don’t need sex. I don’t miss sex. I really am a wonder worker with my own two hands.”
He let out a huff of air that was close enough to laughter.
“I enjoy sex with you,” she said, with a small smile, “but it has never been and never will be my favorite part of our relationship. You mean so much more to me than just a good lay.”
“Well…if sex with me isn’t your favorite, I don’t suppose you’d tell me what is?” he asked with a nervous laugh, only half-joking, unable to think, for even a single second, about what the latter part of her words meant.
But Tav saw right through him, as always. She brushed a curl behind his ear, lingering along his jaw. “I like waking up in time to watch the sunrise with you. When you laugh at something I say. Sitting beside you at the campfire while you bicker with Gale. When we both pick the short straws on laundry day. The way you hold me when I fall asleep.”
His cheeks were burning again, for an entirely different reason than before. “But those are just…things we do. Time we spend together.”
“Astarion, sweetheart—I’d be glad to endure menial labor if I got to do it with you.”
“…Oh.”
She arched an eyebrow, looking a little too amused at his thickheadedness. “Got it now?”
“Well, hold on,” he said, only slightly defensive. “Why did you want to talk about Halsin before, anyway? If you didn’t want my permission, then—”
“I wanted to tell you about it!” she exclaimed. “Gossip with you!”
“Just…gossip? That’s it?” In hindsight, it was so obvious, he wanted to smack himself. She was a bard, and he was a snob; they gossiped about everyone they crossed paths with. They were barely out of earshot of Balthazar before Tav was asking if being outrageously hideous was a prerequisite for worshiping the Absolute. Of course she wanted to tell him about Halsin’s proposition—his rejected proposition, Astarion couldn’t help but add.
“Honestly, Astarion,” she said, with a roll of her eyes. “And you used to call me a wet blanket. You’ve got to stop spending time with Gale. Yes, I wanted to gossip with you. I want to tell you about everything that happens. And usually you’re there to see it!”
“Everything?” he asked. “Really?”
“Absolutely everything,” she said. “You do know you’re my favorite person in the world, right?”
“I…think I do, yes,” he said, and tucked her head under his chin. She let out a shaky exhale as her arms circled his back, and he’d never felt quite so stupidly lucky in all his life.
“You can’t ignore your feelings to appease me,” she said quietly. “I want to know when something bothers you, no matter how small it might seem.”
“I don’t want to control you,” he admitted. “I’ll never claim to be good at this, but I want to be different from the ones before. I want to treat you the way you deserve. And you deserve the world.”
Her arms tightened around his waist. “You’re nothing like him. You couldn’t be more different.”
“What if you start to resent me? What if you tire of me?” And the quieter question that went unasked: what if I’m not enough?
She slowly shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of you,” she said, not a trace of dishonesty on her lips. He suddenly had to work very hard to hold back tears. “But you’re not unreasonable, Astarion. You’re not a controlling person. You don’t just take without giving something back. I won’t ever resent you for setting a boundary, especially when it’s this important.” She poked him in the ribs, adding, “I might start to resent you if you keep up with the appeasement bullshit. Did I mention you’re a bastard for that?”
Despite it all, a surprised laugh escaped him. “Alright, I can admit it—not my best moment.”
Tav let out a shuddering breath. “That was awful. I honestly thought we were breaking up. I was going to sob in my tent all night.” She paused for a moment. “Actually, I was going to have to set up my tent, and then I was going to sob in it.”
Warm affection and smug pride flared up in him as he remembered the first time she asked to stay after he fed. She hadn’t needed her tent since. “And can you believe it was all Halsin’s fault?” he asked.
“Astarion.”
“What kind of awful person meddles in a relationship like that? Someone should teach him a lesson. Not me, of course, I’d never win a fair fight against him. No, I think we ought to sic Lae’zel on him, tell her he was blaspheming Mother Gith, or—”
“Astarion,” she said again, stifling laughter in his shirt.
“What? Darling, I’m trying to defend our relationship from his schemes. You must let me do this.”
“You’re such a shit.”
“And yet you adore me, anyway,” he teased. She lifted her head to rest her chin on his collarbones, staring at him with such open adoration he almost couldn’t believe it was him she was looking at. But it was, and it was getting easier to understand that.
“Oh, I do,” she agreed. “Completely obsessed with you. You’re always on my mind.”
He leaned down, smiling. “It seems we’re well-matched in that department,” he murmured, and kissed her. Tav hummed contentedly, her hands fisting in the back of his shirt, and Astarion was happier than he’d ever been before. She wasn’t frustrated with their situation. She only wanted to be with him. It was going to be just them, for as long as they had left—which, admittedly, might not be very long, what with all the murder cults and vampiric masters and elder brains, but he couldn’t find it in him to worry.
They had tonight, at the very least. That was enough for now.
When they broke apart, he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, and he didn’t care if he was a love-struck fool, her eyes were sparkling in the lantern light. “We should probably go back out there,” she said regretfully. “The others will talk.”
Astarion found that, at that moment, the others could drop off the face of Faerûn and he wouldn’t care. “Let them talk. Tonight, you’re all mine.”
Tav flushed bright pink. “Well, then,” she said, with only a slight squeak in her voice. “Consider me at your disposal.”