Chapter Text
It's a clear night. Not a single cloud to mask the array of stars swimming in that dark, astral abyss. The air is warm, but the breeze billowing across the rolling fields is crisp.
From within the brush, a hare bounds into the open space, sniffing at the ground for something to nibble on. Its ears perk up at the sense of danger, but before it has a chance to flee, the small creature is snatched up. The thing barely has a chance to squeal before its neck is ripped into.
Blood flows into his mouth like the trickle of a stream, satisfying the vampire's sanguine thirst. Once the carcass has been thoroughly sucked dry, Astarion tosses the rabbit's limp, lifeless body back into the bushes so something else can feast on its remains. He wipes the corners of his mouth where the creature's blood had spilled, licking the remnants of his kill. The small, lean animal is far from the best thing he's had, but just like the sharp, acrid taste of cheap wine—even vermin has its appeal.
While it can't compare to the blood of thinking creatures, there is an undeniable thrill to chasing down ones prey that a willing sacrifice simply can't replicate. If only society didn't frown upon unlawful murder of petty criminals—then he could truly have the best of both worlds.
The sound of rustling branches takes him away from that train of thought. Instinctively, Astarion snaps his head towards the sound and sees a large, ursine snout peeking through the bushes, sniffing at the air. The mass of fur lumbers towards him through the tall grass, its gait slow and calculated.
In any other circumstance, a bear looking at him with undisclosed hunger would instill panic, but in this instance a whisper of excitement rushes through him.
Astarion knows this isn't any ordinary cave bear.
“So that's where you ran off to.” He chimes, completely at ease in the presence of this massive carnivore.
The bear doesn't answer him, which can be expected as it is an animal. Instead it moves closer, nudging at the rogue, and capsizes him with a gentle shove of its enormous head.
Taken by surprise, the sudden force sends him reeling back onto his rear with a winded huff. Slightly annoyed, Astarion shoots the disguised druid a glare. "Having fun, are you?"
The bear gives an affectionate grunt in response, stalking towards him.
Astarion rolls his eyes and teases. “Some ferocious thing you are.” He mutters.
When he tries to sit up, a heavy weight hits him square in the chest. Halsin has him pinned down with one of his massive paws, mindful of the claws but still unrelenting. He catches a flicker of carnal desire in those black, ursine eyes and suddenly thinks that maybe the bear plans on devouring him after all. Astarion recognizes that look and smirks. He probably should feel more distressed at the idea that this bear seems ready to mount him, but knowing that it's Halsin he can't help but feel a little aroused.
“So I'm your prey now, am I?" He purrs, looking at the druid through pale, sultry lashes, making no effort to get away from the creature.
The bear grunts at him in response and begins tugging at the collar of his shirt with its canines impatiently.
"Hey! You're going to rip it!" He pouts, so bear Halsin moves to blow and sniff at his cheek instead, tickling his fair skin. "Stop that!" Astarion giggles, tilting his head away from the large predator.
The bear nudges at the side of his face, pressing its moist snout against his ear with a rumbling huff. He tries to shove the animal away but it stubbornly nips at his hair in an attempt to get his attention.
"Oh, fine, you brute." Astarion resigns, tucking his hand under the bear's furry jowls to press a kiss to the top of its muzzle.
The affectionate gesture seems to be enough to placate the animal. Astarion feels the warm, sprightly effervescence of druidic magic rush over him as Halsin reverts back to his elven form in his arms.
Suddenly the fur against his mouth becomes the supple press of lips, followed surreptitiously by the sweep of a tongue. Astarion can't suppress a soft laugh as he's gently pressed back against the dirt, cradling this ridiculous man in his arms. They kiss like that, slow and unhurried under the seraphim glow of moonlight until the pale elf's lips are left numb and tingling.
Halsin is the first to pull away, smiling at him like some besotted fool, equal parts surprised and intrigued. "Most people would not be so agreeable to the advances of a bear."
Astarion tilts a finger under his chin to whisper sweetly against his mouth. "I'm not most people, darling."
Halsin allows himself to be reeled into another kiss, powerless against temptation. This time, after drinking his fill, Astarion is the one to break their embrace. He gently pushes the other away and gracefully squirms out from under all that sinewy muscle. As he stands, the vampire coyly looks over his shoulder, silently beckoning the druid towards him. Halsin, either unwilling or incapable of denying him, follows in leisurely pursuit.
He doesn't really have a sense of where he's going, but Halsin still trails behind without complaint, following Astarion’s lead.
Maybe he's been spending too much time with the nature lover, but as they venture deeper into the woodland a tree catches his eye.
There's a twisted, unsightly knot in its thick trunk, almost like someone purposely bent it that way. Instead of leaves, scattered amongst the barren branches are tiny pieces of white cloth that dangle and sway in the breeze, creating the illusion of leaves. There are so many individual strands that it's impossible to count them all.
Halsin gloomily steps forward, pressing his palm against the stripped bark along the trunk, fingers splayed wide with a grave expression.
The silence between them hangs heavy. There's a certain aura of morbidity in the air, like they've stumbled upon an ancient grave site. Considering the acrid stench of decay lingering on the soil, he imagines that's precisely the case.
Astarion is familiar with the scent of death. So much so that even though a hundred years have passed, he can still pick up on it. He knows enough about the dark history of these lands to put two and two together.
Carefully, he treads forward, not daring to speak. He’s aware of Halsin’s connection to this place, of the many lives lost over time. He can read the weighted expression and gives the solemn druid all the time he needs. A few long moments pass before Halsin speaks.
“When the curse was still running rampant across these lands, I was unable to give my fallen comrades the burials they deserved.” He says wistfully. “Upon my return, offering proper respect for them was one of the first things I did.”
It dawns on him then that each of these white ribbons must represent a victim that fell to the Shadow Curse. People that Halsin would have once called allies, friends, perhaps even lovers. All of these people were long dead by now, their only remaining tether to this earth a simple string tied around the branches of a dead tree.
Astarion feels the buckling weight of emotion in his chest like it's his own. He reaches out and rests his hand in between the druid's shoulder blades in an attempt to offer a semblance of comfort. “I'm sorry.”
Halsin relaxes somewhat at the touch and breathes deeply through his nose, still morose. "It would take an entire night to recite the names of every friend I lost that day.” He goes on, pain evident in his voice. “Even now I wonder if there was anything I could have done differently—to spare their suffering.”
Astarion can sense the druid's inner turbulence, familiar with emotions of grief and pain. He understands the survivors' guilt. He's felt it himself many times, even if their circumstances are quite different.
“You came back to give them a proper funeral. It's more than most would have done.” He mentions, hoping to disperse that guilty conscience, but a few words can't undo a century of blame.
“I have been blessed to see many live, and cursed to see just as many die.” Halsin continues after a beat, voice deep in solemn reflection.
Astarion feels something click in him at that moment. Halsin has been so preoccupied caring for him, being the crutch he so desperately needed. Meanwhile he's neglected to even consider that maybe he hasn't been the only one suffering alone.
He isn't a compassionate person by nature. The only comfort he's ever known how to give is in terms of sex, but despite being completely out of his league, Astarion does his best to offer any kind of relief.
“It wasn't your fault, you know.”
Halsin’s face is unreadable. He doesn't respond, staring at the tree with unconscionable guilt. It’s quite possibly the first time he’s ever heard that sentiment, and the realization breaks the vampire’s heart. Astarion takes his hand and leads him away from the painful reminder. Halsin goes without a fight, though the look on his face is still full of grief once they've left the barren wasteland.
Astarion steers them towards a great oak, urging Halsin to sit with him under its thick, twisting boughs. He goes down without resistance, wholeheartedly trusting the vampire to handle his delicate state with utmost care. Halsin has been so kind to him, so understanding, without expecting anything in return. Astarion feels that it’s his turn to be the considerate one.
“If you want to get things off your chest, I'm here to listen.” He says softly.
“You needn't burden yourself with the troubles of my past.”
“And you didn't have to trouble with mine, yet here we are.”
Halsin resigns himself, throat bobbing with sudden tightness. “I—I wouldn't even know where to begin.” He admits, voice trembling.
Astarion slides his hand down to Halsin’s, lacing their fingers together to give the druid an anchor. “You don't need to.”
Halsin's head snaps up to look at him. For over a century, he’s been forced to carry this burden alone, and now finally someone cares enough to help shoulder that burden.
Just then, it's like a string that's been held taut is suddenly cut loose. Halsin drops his head, shoulders shaking as he's wracked with violent sobs. Astarion doesn’t pull away. He tenderly grasps Halsin's head and pulls him into his chest to cradle him, letting the larger elf curl up against him and cry as he gently strokes his hair and whispers soft reassurances.
A hundred years of repressed sorrow are released all at once. Halsin buries his face in the crook of Astarion’s neck, sobbing raggedly and wetting the vampire’s pale skin with his tears.
“Shh, it’s alright, I’m here. Let it all out.” He croons, stroking his hands down the larger man’s shaking shoulders.
Astarion allows him as long as he needs, holding and rocking him in comforting silence even as the sobbing turns to soft whimpers. Eventually things quiet down. Halsin’s face is sticky with long dried tears. Even then, Astarion continues to soothe him until he pulls away, wiping at the corners of his eyes.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that. I don’t usually lose my composure, I just…”
Astarion doesn’t let him finish, wiping away the lingering moisture from his cheek. “It’s fine. You don’t need to explain yourself. I get it.”
Halsin nods, inhaling slowly. “Thank you.”
He knows the druid doesn’t just mean it for the lack of judgment, but also for allowing him a space where he felt safe enough to lose himself like that. It feels good to reciprocate even a fraction of what Halsin had done for him.
“Don’t mention it. It’s the least I could do, I’m your—” Astarion hesitates, unsure how to finish that sentence. Friend? Lover? The right word to describe what they share doesn’t seem to exist in his vocabulary. He laughs. “Honestly, I have no idea what to call our relationship.”
Halsin grins, sniffing away the last of his sadness. “Perhaps there is no word to describe what we have. Relationships are more than just a manifestation of carnal desire, or mutual adoration. It requires an understanding between two, in some cases, multiple participants who respect and admire each other. People continuously try to package concepts into neat, easy to understand packages instead of allowing them to flourish outside of constrictions, as nature intended. Love is not a thing that can be contained in a box—it is wild. Vivacious. As untamed as the tangled roots of ancient forests."
Astarion attempts to wrap his head around the long winded explanation and wrinkles his nose. "Sounds complicated. No wonder I never bothered with anything significant."
Halsin chuckles. "It may sound complex when extrapolated, but when you feel that connection with someone, I assure you, it becomes the simplest thing in the world.”
“Oh? You seem quite familiar with the concept. I imagine you've been in your fair share of romantic entanglements.” He teases.
"I have been around a very long time and shared my body with many people. Of course, I wasn't attached to every single one, but I am familiar with love." He reaches for Astarion's hand, pressing their palms together and splaying their fingers wide. "I feel its gentle stirring in my heart even now."
The vampire huffs, but keeps their fingers intertwined, falling into the warm feeling such a tender confession yields. "Perhaps your heart stirs more easily than you think."
"The number of lovers I've had over the years doesn’t cheapen their significance.” Halsin states firmly. “There are people I've lain with many times and felt little more than attraction for, and people I've lain with only once but would have devoted my entire life to worshiping."
Astarion gives an attentive hum, smirking as he shifts closer until he's almost straddling Halsin’s lap. "And where exactly do I fall on that spectrum?"
Halsin gives a throaty chuckle, lifting their joined hands. He closes his fingers around the vampire's long, nimble ones, bringing their closed fists up to his lips to brush against the knuckles. It's an intimate gesture. One he's unfamiliar with, but wholly invested in.
"You are in an entire category of your own.” Halsin reveres, staring at the vampire in a way that makes him feel like he is the only thing in existence. “I cannot know for certain what our future together entails, but if you'll allow it, I would gladly spend the many years I have left at your side, right here, learning how to be the man you deserve."
The promise sends a rush of heat through his dead body. In the past, he never could have imagined committing himself to a single person. Now he can't bear the thought of another lover. Of anyone threatening to take the druid's place in his heart. Halsin is the only one he wants. The only thing that matters, and the awareness of how deeply he's fallen for this man is as thrilling as it is terrifying.
He composes himself and forces a laugh to steady his nerves. “And here I was under the impression that you weren't the type to settle down. What was it you said again? That you are not bound to nature, but unbound in nature?”
Halsin's smile is soft. “Perhaps I've finally found something worth establishing roots for.” He says, gazing at the vampire with utmost sincerity, holding their joined hands above his heart. “This town, the children—you.” Astarion feels him squeeze his fingers at that. “Nature is wild and untamed, but even some aspects of it linger in place to grow and prosper. A bear might be free to roam, but the great oak trees will stretch their roots and create a haven for others to flourish.” He brushes his thumb across the back of the vampire's hand, verdant eyes seeking sparkling rubies. “I want to be your oak tree.”
The unbridled affections lingers in his heart, and even with the lacking need for aie Astarion finds his breath catching at the sentiment. Despite the outspoken devotion, after centuries of worthlessness he can't help but feel the prickle of doubt.
“You deserve better than me.” He says, looking away.
Halsin's expression turns fierce, but his anger isn't directed at the dishonorable elf, but rather whoever put such thoughts in his head in the first place. He reaches out with strong, gentle fingers to turn the other's head back towards him, forcing their eyes to meet.
"Expulse such nonsense from your mind. I haven’t met a single person more deserving to feel love than you."
Astarion shakes his head, torn between accepting Halsin's feelings and his own self-loathing. "I've done so many unspeakable things..."
"As have I.” Halsin interjects before the vampire can spiral in his guilt. “But what separates you from the scum of the earth—from Cazador” He adds, like he knows Astarion's mind is proned to make that connection. “is your desire for atonement. You seek to right the wrongs you've done. That have been done to you. That is more than I can say for many people who have been dealt better hands than yours.”
Astarion says nothing, but doesn't move away from his hold. After being stripped of his dignity over and over again it's hard to listen to such lifting praise, but hearing it from Halsin he wants to believe him so badly.
Seeing the lingering threads of reluctance, Halsin continues his conviction.
"Your resilience is astonishing. Few would seek intimacy after the hardships you have faced, and even fewer would relish in it as you have. The things that were done to you..." He trails off, not wanting to exhume past traumas. "They are wounds many choose to never lay bare. Of course, I am not saying that all is erased—you may never completely recover from the tortures of your past, but the fact that you are taking steps towards salvation is in itself courageous." The sad look on his face softens into something else, something tender. "I know you care not for my maudlin preachings, but I feel I must say it all the same—I am incredibly proud of you. I've been proud of you. Your growth, your reflections, all of it. People have not been as kind to you as they should, and if I must pick up the slack and make amends on their part, then it is no hardship for me."
That tight feeling in his chest is back. It's like his heart is light as a feather, floating up into his throat to choke off any words that might come out. No one's ever been proud of him before, and even if they had said such kind words Astarion wouldn’t believe them. He believes Halsin though. Knows that the druid's praise does not come easily. He can't find words to express how grateful he is to hear such sweet reverence, so instead he shows him.
Astarion launches himself into Halsin's arms, nearly uprooting the sturdy oak of a man in his haste. He kisses him with unrestrained vigor, deep and passionate. The unexpected ambush of lips and tongue catches the old elf off guard for less than a second before he's reciprocating tenfold. His hands creep up the vampire's back to cradle his head before Halsin is lowering them down onto the grass, much like the first time he expressed vulnerability.
It's different now. Before, he was blind to intimacy, but now he has a precedent. It's just as gratifying the second time around. Astarion allows his body to melt under fervent touches, no longer needing to stay on high alert. He trusts Halsin with every fiber of his being.
Submission used to be a weakness in his eyes. He hated it, only resorting to such tactics when they fell into his necessary scheming. He no longer views it that way. The way Halsin has carefully catered to his every whim has given him a whole new perspective on putting himself in someone else's control. He greedily welcomes those large, attentive hands. Craves them on every part of him.
He can feel the heat of Halsin's hands through his tunic, igniting the skin underneath like a flame. Those hands pause when they reach his trousers, lips pulling away from the kiss-drunk rogue.
“May I?”
After everything they've done together Halsin still waits for permission. As if Astarion could ever deny this man.
He gives a breathless nod and lifts his hips, tugging the wood elf back down into a wet, hungry kiss. One by one, the barriers between them are removed until he feels Halsin's cock, thick and drooling, slide against his inner thigh.
Astarion pulls him down into a fiercer kiss, hooking his heels behind Halsin's thighs to press their bodies flush together, feeling the blunt head of Halsin's cock nudge against his entrance. He doesn't even need to be worked open first. His body still remembers the imprint Halsin left on him last night. Halsin notices too.
“Are you sure? I didn't think to bring anything with me—”
“I don't care.” Astarion hisses, desperate.
Following the vampire's explicit urging, Halsin presses in carefully. They both groan as he eases in, slow and deliberate.
The friction is unpleasant, but only a little. It isn't the first time he's been taken dry, and Halsin is so gentle that he barely feels any pain. There's a burning stretch that follows, but not in the teeth-gritting, pillow biting way he used to endure. This is a pleasant burn, one he takes with a throaty moan.
When Halsin finally bottoms out he lifts his head to admire the ethereal beauty spread out beneath him, looking entranced.
"I have nary laid my eyes on anyone who could rival the moon maiden's resplendence under the midnight sky."
Astarion, already dizzy with pleasure, feels a flutter in his chest at the parallel, chuckling softly. "Comparing me to a god? How sanctimonious."
Halsin chuckles, and Astarion notices a faint flush spread across his cheeks. "Forgive me. I often forget myself when I am with you."
He says that like having to listen to how breathtaking he is is somehow a hindrance. Which in this particular instance, it sort of is.
Astarion reaches up to fist a handful of Halsin's hair, yanking him down until their lips are touching. “As much as I love hearing about how beautiful I am, I need you to fuck me.”
Any hesitation the druid had before quickly dissipates upon hearing that. He steadies his arms by the vampire's head, leaning down to capture Astarion’s mouth in a fevered kiss at the same time as he rolls his hips.
Astarion moans into his mouth, meeting each thrust with eager reciprocation. His body is pliant under Halsin, taking his cock like it was made specifically for this purpose. It only takes a few thrusts for the druid to find his mark, and once he does he repeatedly aims for that spot until his lover is a mess of pleasured noises beneath him.
The frantic, savage pounding is strikingly different to their first time. Halsin is still considerate, but not gentle in any means. Astarion doesn’t mind, he isn’t made of glass.
They mold against one another through pure, carnal lust. Just hardcore, lip biting, back shredding fucking. It's brutal animalistic and gods, he needs more of it. The sensation makes its way down his spine, pooling between his legs. Pleasure layered upon pleasure until he's drowning in ecstasy.
"Wait." He breathes suddenly, and like the drop of a coin Halsin stops.
"Is something wrong? Is it too much?"
His lover's concern for him is precious. Astarion reassures him with a candid touch of his hand. "Let me be on top." He whispers low, barely audible, but they're so close he knows Halsin heard him.
The druid seems to be processing those words, unsure exactly what he means by that so Astarion shows him. He squeezes his thighs around Halsin’s middle and with one, graceful move rolls them over until the druid is sprawled underneath him.
Astarion's hands anchor themselves against the wide expanse of solid muscle between his thighs. He lifts himself up on his knees and then slams back down, pulling a sharp gasp from the other.
“Astarion—”
The vampire cuts him off with another expert roll of his hips, prying another cry of pleasure out of Halsin.
“Relax.” He croons, starting a steady rhythm. “It's my turn to take care of you tonight.”
Halsin looks ready to protest, but whatever dignified response is on his tongue melts into a low groan once Astarion begins to fuck himself in earnest. Hands immediately circle his waist, feeling up his sides as he moves. Pleasure sparks once Halsin joins his rhythm, letting Astarion control the pace of it.
Broken, breathy moans spur him on, encouraging him to take Halsin's thick cock harder and faster. It stretches him in the most delicious way. Astarion had completely forgotten how good sex was supposed to feel, and now that he's been reminded he's addicted.
Heat starts to build steadily in his groin, but it isn't enough and only keeps him teetering on the edge of bliss. He shifts on Halsin's cock, moving his hands behind to brand himself against Halsin's solid thighs and leans back, taking Halsin's cock deeper.
“Harder.” He gasps, tilting his head back. “I need…I need—”
Halsin seems to know exactly what he's asking for. He tightens his grip on Astarion's hips and fucks up into him with precise motions, nailing his prostate with each thrust and strokes his cock with his other hand. It's the last little bit he needs to tip over the edge.
His orgasm hits him like a thunderwave. Astarion comes with a mangled shout, spilling all over Halsin's fingers and stomach. He keeps moving through it, even when his body becomes oversensitive from his own climax, desperate to feel Halsin's own pleasure spread through him.
It doesn't take long, and soon he's filled with that familiar warmth spreading inside of him. Astarion tilts his head back, relishing the sensation of Halsin's seed. He used to hate the feeling, but much like with every other aspect of sex it's completely different with Halsin. The druid isn't claiming his body, he's worshiping it.
The desperation in his veins slowly dissolves into pleasant numbness. He feels a hand at the back of his neck tugging him down into a kiss, which the vampire readily accepts, easily submitting to Halsin’sgreedy tongue.
When they pull away Halsin's fingers brush his cheek, tracing along the sharp curve of his face.
“I love you.”
Astarion smiles genuinely. Even though he isn't ready say it back, he recognizes the swell of emotion in his own chest.
Instead of replying with something obnoxiously arrogant, he leans in to steal another kiss. If Halsin is upset that he didn't reciprocate the affectionate words his disappointment is exceptionally well hidden and he doesn't press. Astarion appreciates his unyielding patience.
One day he might be able to return the sentiment.
~•°•~
After returning to the hovel, and another few rounds of fun, Astarion comfortably rests his head against Halsin's shoulder, tracing idle shapes in the patches of coarse hair on the wood elf's burly chest.
"Before, when you talked about settling. Did you mean it?”
Halsin smiles sheepishly. "I did. Wholeheartedly. But I understand if you feel conflicted. Baldur’s Gate is your home, and your destiny is your own to command. You shouldn't make decisions based on the feelings of a poor, old druid."
Astarion hums, sliding his hand along Halsin's forearm. "Perhaps I've grown fond of this poor, old druid."
"As he has of you --- As I have of you."
Astarion grins and steals a kiss, enjoying thexway Halsin's large hands instinctively move to his backside. He keeps the touch of their lips chaste, with great effort, pulling away to glance at that affection gaze.
"And you'd want that? Me to stay here, I mean. With you?"
"If it's what your heart desires then I would find no greater thrill. Of course, if you'd prefer to return to the city, I have no qualms with coming to visit. Distance does not have to be the end of us."
His words are so tempting, so sincere. The decision seems obvious. Baldur’s Gate may have been his home at one point, but it's grown cold and desolate. Wherever Halsin is is where he wants to be.
“Actually, I think I'm starting to like the countryside. Besides, the children need someone charismatic to tell them stories so you don't bore them to death.” He adds teasingly.
Halsin chuckles. “For their sake, then. Let us deepen our roots, together."
Astarion smiles, curling into Halsin's side. For the first time in as long as he can remember, he feels genuinely happy.
Love might be a dangerous game, but high stakes make every reward that much sweeter.