Chapter Text
Perhaps it’s the workings of Fate that has led Tav here. Perhaps, it is just divine interference. Whatever the case may be, Tav finds themselves at the very end of their little adventure. Only, instead of dominating the Netherbrain and saving the city, they have found themselves crippled into dirty stones inside the Bhaal temple. Yes, they rescued their kidnapped companion, and yes they defeated Orin The Red, but the cost? The cost was nearly everything altogether; everything they fought for, everything that guided them, everything that inspired them, loved them, cared for them.
Tav had fallen in battle. Withers was nowhere to be seen, the city was laid in ruins, nobody had any revival scrolls left. No healing potions, no herbs in sight by the mass destruction of the cultists ransacking and scorching anything that fell under their feet. It wasn’t as if Tav had been stupid either, but such was the luck of their little misfit group.
First they found Minsc, then someone from their camp had been kidnapped, next they did as was instructed and defeated Gortash. And of course, they saved the Gondians before murdering the tyrant. Tav immediately wasted no time in gathering their supplies at camp, they had planned to take a short rest before taking on the murderess herself, however that seemed a prime opportunity for the Githyanki to attack. Defeating them was no easy feat and proved to have taken much of their supplies. With barely anything left, and with adrenaline coursing, Tav raced back to the temple before any other enemies attempted to prolong their operation. Tav tossed Gortash’s pale, stiff hand at Orin’s feet, eyes blazing with determination. They battled their way in, blood soaking their armor and painting their faces. They seemed regal even like this, at least in Astarion’s eyes, with crimson shimmering in their hair and even forming a crown atop their skull.
Orin smiled in her delirium, overjoyed by the smell of fresh agony and cruelty brought in by them. They fought, even when Orin transformed into the most grotesque beast known as The Slayer, they never faltered. Their eyes burned hotter than Avernus’ heat, filled with determination and courage, powered by hate and bloodlust. They had been fighting their dark urge all this time to keep their companions safe and finally, finally, they accepted their sinister nature. They were attempting to use it for good, the worst trait about themselves that they wrestled with night and day, kept locked tighter than even the Annals of Karsus had been. It seemed that in rushing from one foe to the next, nobody kept track of their withering supply, why would they? Tav had always been the one tasked with that.
Orin had been defeated, her lifeless body falling to the ground with a sickening -thud!- as pools of iron wept from her gaping wounds. Tav looked no better, grappling at their pounding head. They were resisting their urges, the task growing harder and harder the more they gave into it, the more it fueled them in their rescue attempt. And now, that they were weak, they feared the worst. They feared it over taking them entirely, to lose control and become the very reason their companions died, after going through so much to save them.
Maybe, Tav thought, this had been a gift. The more injured they were, the easier it would be to overpower them. Their mind fatigued from fighting The Emperor, The Absolute, Gortash’s and Orin’s constant plots, The Urge, and more, they hardly stood a chance at keeping in control. Something was bound to give.
Their body swayed as their kidnapped companion rose from their unconscious state, they took a dangerous step back, their weight unstable and balance skewed. Tav saw through squinted eyes as their party immediately rushed to their sides, however, their battle was not yet finished. Orin’s cultists craved violence, craved blood, craved revenge. Tav’s vision was bleary, the faintest touches of black slowly lapping at the edges of their sights. It reminded them of the shadow-cursed lands before they had saved it.
Their knees hit the stones hard, but they hardly felt it through their own pain. Their body, pouring profusely with blood from various battles, was crying in agony. Their muscles weary, tendons ripped, sinews barely holding together among so many spells and beatings. They could hear a cry sound in the distance, a voice they could recognize if blinded and bound. The shriek of their beloved vampire, their sweet elf, their Star.
”No!” Astarion screamed, rushing towards them. He was nearly there before he was flung back by an eldritch blast, the cultists were walking closer towards Tav’s crumpled form. They had fallen to their palms, barely holding their own weight up on all fours as they wheezed and heaved. ”You can’t die, damn you! Get up!”
Tav chuckled, the sound low and raspy. They felt a swift kick to their ribs, forcing what little air inside their lungs to go rushing out. Their cry of pain was cut short as their form collapsed into the dirt, arms encircling their waist to shield themselves from more torment. Shadowheart shouted a spell, earning her room to back away in an attempt to make it towards Tav. Karlach protected the opening she created, fending off three of the assailants with a hefty swing of her greataxe. “Go, soldier! I’ve got you!” She roared, using her tail to whip the attacker who tried to slip past her.
As soon as Shadowheart neared, she summoned her spirit guardians. The cleric was quick to drop to her knees and shield Tav’s battered body with her own. The tiny angels circled around her obediently, burning straight through her targets as if they were no more than puffs of air, seering their flesh and leaving poisonous necrosis in their wake. That didn’t stop them, unfortunately, but it did buy them space. Shadowheart did not have many spell slots available to her, she could not heal Tav’s wounds and she had no potions to restore her mana. She made a noise of pure frustration and stress, raising her mace threateningly towards anyone who dared to step near.
Tav’s heart was beating wildly despite their barely moving form, their leg hurt the worst were Orin mangled it. Snapping her otherworldly jaws and flinging their body until their back was flush against the wall. Groans left their lips without their permission, desecrating their reputation and squandering whatever pride they had left. They knew how bad this situation was, clutching the netherstones like their most sacred treasure. While Shadowheart defended them, they held onto their last line of defense and the city’s only saving grace.
“Heal them, damn you!” Tav heard Astarion chant again, his voice much closer than before. Their eyes flickering over to see him rip the jugular clean from a cultist with his daggers. Their body pulsed as blood squirted into the air, a sick fountain of gore staining the already bloodied floor. The sight only of carnage brought a grin to their dirty face.
“I’m trying!” Shadowheart grunted, concentrating on the spell currently protecting them both from an onslaught of attacks. “I need to recover, to recharge myself! I can’t cast anything!”
Astarion’s growl came from deep displeasure, a hiss peeling fresh from his mouth as he entered Shadowheart’s protective ring of guardians. He stood before them both, launching himself forwards with both daggers poised high, bringing them down with everything he had. They planted firmly inside the cultist’s shoulders, his fangs flashing in a snarl before he buried them into their throat. As he jerked his head sideways, Shadowheart shuddered at the act, watching her companion chew venomously on the chunk of flesh between his teeth before spitting it out like a discarded mint. He spun fast, reflexes ever so sharp, as the other enemy attempted to swipe at him with their knife.
They, too, met an unfortunate end in a matter of minutes. May Selune bless them that Astarion had done so swiftly, else they suffer. A fate well deserved, she thought, something she was confident that they would all agree on.
“Go.” Astarion breathed in a rush, dropping to a knee once he cleared their area. Karlach could still be heard finishing her round of fiends nearby, “Take your breath, I’ve got them.”
Shadowheart was reluctant to leave, however she knew that if they all wanted to share dinner with Tav around the campfire tonight, she needed to find the safety of somewhere private. She wouldn’t flee all the way to camp, wanting to remain nearby in case anything else transpired, but she would watch from a distance. As Astarion’s hands hovered, horrified, Tav could make out the faintest glimmer in his eye.
The thought of plunging their fingers deep into those beautiful eyes delighted them, the prospect of snatching them right out of his skull and admiring them in their palm warmed their clammy skin.
No! Gods, no! They never should’ve enticed their dark urge, even if it got them this far, even if it helped them rescue their friends. The idea of torture on Astarion, the love of their miserable life, broke their heart. He deserved better, and in good conscience, they couldn’t allow themselves to remain at his side with these nasty thoughts. They thought themselves no better than his old master, and it was only a matter of time before he realized it too. They wanted to protect him from that, to never allow him to give up his body ever again, to always be in control of his life and his fate. They wanted to love him, show him what love was, how it felt, what it was like to be cherished above servitude or personal benefit.
The stench of their blood, or any of the blood spilt in this accursed place, must be driving him mad. They would apologize, plead for him to follow Shadowheart and take time away from the gore, alas. They had no energy to spare for such words, their mind entirely fixated on keeping those forbidden thoughts locked away.
“Darling,” He barely uttered. The sound of his voice was soft, softer than his touch as he slipped a talented hand under their head. His sleight of hand was much more useful than anyone realized, not only was it skilled at picking locks, but it was a beautiful weapon. At a single touch, Tav could fall into the deepest slumber, or rather, feel their stress separate from even their soul upon his grazings. The way he played with their hair, how easily it slipped in and out of their clothing, how fast he was at disarming his companions of their jewels. “Stay with me now, we’re going to run to Halsin as soon as we can. Fix you right up, alright?”
Tav didn’t believe they could last that long, the trek through the temple and through the sewers was long and treacherous. Not to mention, full of traps and monsters alike, waiting for their next prey. Astarion had disarmed as many as he could find, and yet, there was always more. There were always some toxic fumes waiting just around the corner, or some other ludicrous stranger plunged into insanity from the Absolute’s meddling. To make it through the long walk alone back to camp was pushing it, but factoring in the many pit stops they might have to take was surely impossible.
Tav merely smiled, the only thing they had energy left to do. Astarion brought them further into his hold, lifting them slowly until he could slide his thigh under their skull. The gentle handling just hammered in how pitiful they were, their skull throbbing, their head pulsing in pure agony as their nerves worked hard to drown out the pain. Shock attempting to set in and null the worst of the damages, their adrenaline slowly retreating as the tiredness set deeper and deeper into their bones.
“Shadowheart!” Astarion yelled, finding no comfort in the melancholic smile staring up at him. Tav knew he could gather its true meaning, his tadpole latching onto their own in desperate understanding. Not only could he tell how much blood they had lost, he had temporarily felt the torment Tav was in, how bad their injuries truly went. His eyes were teary as he seethed in pain, hands shaking even as they attempted to remain as steady as possible.”Shadowheart!”
As time lasted an eternity, and yet, slipped right by them, Tav found no better place to be. If this was the best way to protect the ones they loved, then so be it. They would do it all over again in a heartbeat. Their companions were safe, which mattered most to them, every single one of the people who graced their camp deserved better. They had all come from dark pasts, and some had more to show for it than others. But they all had potential, whether that was to be something truly great or truly nefarious, it wasn’t up to them to dictate. They, at least, could give their companions the privilege to make that choice themselves. They gave them the gift of dealing with said choices, celebrating said choices, regretting them, enjoying the full ups and downs of life once more. Which was worth more than any one of them could truly put into words.
And as they lay there, attempting to fill their sore lungs with air, they knew they were at peace. Even covered in blood, Astarion was the sight for the sorest eye. His gorgeous curls highlighting his pale skin, the bright red a beautiful contrast to his lighter complexion, his dark ruby eyes gleaming with emotion and not the dull mask he used to wear daily. His fangs, the whitest and warmest smile around, his pointy ears and charming one-liners. They were staring up into the face of perfection, of true beauty and wonder, and they were falling in love all over again.
“Don’t you dare.” He snapped sharply, his ears near vertical with how hard they pinned themselves down. His lips raising to bare his teeth in the same manner he had done those cultists. He didn’t scare Tav, no, not at all. Perhaps they were delirious, but he seemed rather cute when making such threats.
Tav managed to turn their head, ever so slightly, deeper into the warmth of his thigh. They could call it a joke, Astarion was part of the undead, he had no warmth to him. And yet, Tav found the briefest hints of heat trapped under their head. They must truly be reaching the limit if they thought his cold skin was warm, how cold were they?
He composed himself enough to find some kindness in his tone. He knows Tav cannot help it, that they are weary and weak, limited in ways to respond and think. It was a miracle they were conscious even now, and Astarion intended to milk this miracle for all it was worth. He couldn’t allow this to end, not when this person had granted him everything he could ever ask for. Not when they accepted him for all his failures and shortcomings, for all his greed and scheming, for his habits. He couldn’t let them down, couldn’t let them die. “You can sing my praises later, dearest. At camp.”
With no more energy left, Tav’s eyes shut. Astarion panicked, both visibly and audibly. He called their name once, twice, lightly shook their shoulder, called again, shook them again, called, and so on. Karlach was marching over, running across the temple once the final foe fell. Before she could come to a full stop, Astarion had gathered their fallen leader into his arms. He was racing out of the sacrificing room, using his fully fed conquests to spur on his speed. He would make quick time, he would, Tav needed him to.
Tav was fading fast, Tav wasn’t even moving anymore, Tav was fully slack in his arms. Tav was- Tav- They-
Tav was limp.