Chapter Text
He knows the moment he catches servants making up the final bed in the spawn chambers.
It’s been three months but he knows.
The others wonder aloud. Petras proudly claims it may be some lovely blonde or another he’s brought back recently. Leon snaps at him to be quiet. Dalyria’s suspiciously silent. Aurelia turns to ask Astarion his opinion but he can’t answer.
He knows who it is. He knows what has happened to that beautiful kind drow, and it tears a hole in his heart. Gods above and below it’s worse than if Tav had died. He did this. His fault. He brought Tav to Cazador on a silver platter because he just couldn’t leave well enough alone. The months of telling himself to back off, to abandon Tav, to never see the drow again, have ended in the worst possible way. Death would have been a kindness. A comfort. This is the last thing Astarion ever wanted. He’s doomed Tav to this… perverse wreckage of eternity.
This is what his love’s worth. What it’s capable of.
The very next day there’s a body on that bed. Sitting hunched over and appearing so much smaller than he truly is. Diminished. Defeated. Astarion leans against the doorframe.
“I thought you dead.”
Tav snorts. Winces. He doesn’t look at Astarion. His tone is flat. “Am I not?”
Astarion swallows back the grief. “Of a sort.”
“I wanted to be.”
“We all did.”
“And now?”
“Now you follow orders.”
Tav looks up at him and it instantly takes Astarion's mockery of breath away. Tav’s eyes, those initially off-putting eyes, jewel green and full of life, are now a vile red ring against a black sea. Just like the rest of them. There’s hatred and anguish in the way he looks at Astarion. Just like the rest of them. A little worse, he thinks, because he did this to Tav.
“I don’t know what I am now,” Tav says quietly. Full of loathing. For Astarion or for himself, possibly neither of them is sure. “I’m forsaken. My lady speaks to me no longer. I’ve doomed myself to playing music I no longer care about. And all because…”
All because of you. Because I met you. Because I fell for you. Wanted more from you.
“I understand, you know.” Astarion assures him. “If you despise me. Feel free to despise Petras, it’s actually something of a family pastime. But know you’re unfortunately rather tied to us now.”
“Am I?” Tav says softly.
“Yes,” Astarion replies instantly, in a sharp hard tone he doesn’t recognize from himself. The idea of Tav in pain still, in a terrible twist of irony, makes him ache. “Trust me, there’s no escape. Not even the ones I’m sure you’re contemplating. You think none of us have thought of it? Have tried? He won’t let you.”
Tav’s hands twitch and clasp together in his lap. He’s silent. Astarion’s mind urges him to go, to leave the forlorn drow to his own thoughts, but he can’t make his body follow the demand. He’s the monster who killed Tav; Tav shouldn’t want to talk to him, their ‘courtship’ be damned. Yet he could swear his heart’s keening loud enough for Tav to hear. As if he was waiting for it by some invisible signal, his patience is rewarded: Tav looks up at him once more with those lost, pained eyes, and says, “I don’t hate you.”
“You should.” Astarion snaps, but it lacks heat or conviction. Tav should. Of course Tav should.
His fault. All his fault. Tav’s hatred is the least he deserves. “I told you that reckless trust would get you killed.”
Tav shakes his head feverishly and his voice cracks with heartache. “That doesn’t matter. That doesn’t change anything. I can’t hate you, Astarion. I could never.”
Tav’s a fool. An utter misbegotten idiot.
But gods, is he happy to hear those words.
Cazador’s asleep. No one’s around. Aurelia and Dalyria are two floors away. Violet is in the kennel. Petras is sulking over his failure last night. Leon’s in the library. Astarion takes two steps closer. Crosses the room. Tav stares up at him. Astarion touches his face. Curves his hands over that strong jaw. It’s no longer warm. The thought is a dagger in his heart. Tav’s wide-eyed, not breathing, poised on the edge of anticipation. Astarion leans down and finally allows himself the full, bruising kind of kiss he’s been resisting for months. Letting his vampiric strength loose because those wretched useless gods know Tav can withstand the full force of his passion now.
Tav’s still completely uncertain what they’re doing. Astarion wasn’t Tav’s first kiss but he was his last. Will be his last, come what may. And even still, despite the wreckage of their relationship, Tav proves he trusts Astarion completely (lovely, lovely fool) by going pliant in his hands and Astarion rewards it. A deep, searching kiss. Drinking in the quiet gasp when he skims his tongue along Tav’s bottom lip. Pressing in just a bit further, running his tongue carefully over the razor sharp points of Tav’s new fangs- a double set- then withdrawing. Tav’s shaking under his hands. Astarion pulls away. He sweeps a lock of roseate hair behind the point of an ear and gives Tav a pained smile.
“I’m sorry.”
He sees that Tav understands his true unspoken words instantly. And worse, Tav’s warm smile is his reply, the one he’d tried for so long to lie to himself as meaning nothing special. In the end they’re finally on the same page, finally speaking the same words, even if they’re silent and said only in actions.
I love you.