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Everything echoed here. Their footsteps down to where Cazador chanted, the rustle of her gloved fingertips brushing against Astarion’s armor, too slow to catch him when he was ripped away, the cleaving of rotted flesh as Lae’zel drove her sword through the horde, the hard bash of a shield as Shadowheart fought to keep her concentration, even the quiet swish of movement as her hands bent the air, freeing him from the magic that bound him.
Everything echoed here. Her flesh that tore with every clawing his servants lashed upon her as she rained down shards of ice, Astarion’s sharp shadow as he jumped to drive his weight behind his blade as her vengeance, Shadowheart’s pained cry as her armor was bitten through, and Lae’zel rushing to her side to thin feral gnashing.
Everything echoed here. Especially the clattering of the coffin lid against the stone flooring, and Astarion’s begging pleas to her.
I can’t do this without you, help me take his place, help me become free, help me, help me.
I won’t, my love.
Please! Please help me, I thought you loved me enough to know me!
His desperation echoed, the blood lust in his eyes echoed, the crazed way he looked at her, begging her to trust him, to love him, to let him ascend.
I do. You don’t need this, you don’t need to become him. Please, starlight, listen to me.
Everything echoed here. Wicked dagger through immortal flesh made mortal, blood that hadn’t seen the sky would forever dry in this crypt.
Gods, everything echoed. Everything echoed, and he cried. His knees as he fell, the dagger as it slipped from his hands, and him as he screamed through his freeing.
Her footsteps echoed as she stepped closer to where he knelt, kneeling in front of him, her palms open. She didn’t touch him, she’d never touch him unless he asked. She watched as he cried upwards, as if through every sob that ripped through him, he could curse the gods for denying him the release he’d prayed for since the night he clawed his way out of his grave.
He reached his hand forward, finding her palm, and grasping it so tight that she thought for a moment he might be capable of shattering her bones. His cries had slowed, anchored by her presence, head bowed.
His siblings’ footsteps echoed. Squelching through the mess of gore and blood that carpetted the stone floor, “Is it over?”
Astarion looked at her, then at his siblings and nodded, “It’s over. He’s gone.”
“What about the others?”
He let her help him to his feet, steadying himself before picking up the staff that had bound him to Cazador for 200 years, “We should free them, shouldn’t we?” He looked at her again, questions written across his face, asking her to help him, please, please help him.
“They deserve a chance, starlight.” Her voice was soft, always soft. Never pushing, always guiding, so soft was his mayfly. Your choice, she was telling him, they deserve a chance like you, but this is your choice.
“Lead them into the Underdark,” He heard himself say, stamping the staff into the stone, “You’ll be able to build a life. Go.”
The footsteps of thousands of spawn echoed, but nothing compared to when he finally handed her the staff, a silent request. He took her free hand and pressed his face against the crook of her neck and inhaled.
He fought through the rising stink of the rotting blood that surrounded them and instead breathed her in. Breathed in the cold metal of her blood, breathed in the ice of her magic, breathed in the sweated sheen that had formed when she had struggled fiercely to hold back Cazador’s servants, breathed in the reassurance of her body against his, her light touch at the back of his neck, cradling him close, cradling him always. He felt his head clear with every breath he took against her neck.
“The Gur will be angry,” He finally pulled away, looking up at her.
“Only at first. They’ll understand. I don’t think they would’ve wanted their children slaughtered.” She reassured him, her hand dropping down to squeeze his.
He nodded, and let his hand fall from hers until they were only connected by her finger hooked around his, “Let’s go then, I don’t want to be here any longer.”
They didn’t speak while making their way back up the steps, but his finger stayed locked with hers, staying so close that their arms brushed along each other.
“You freed seven thousand spawn? You kill one vampire, and let loose thousands?”
She could feel Astarion steel himself before answering, steel himself before letting her ring finger go and stepping forward to explain himself, “Your children were among those spawn. They deserved a chance, didn’t they? I’ve sent them to the Underdark, where they’ll be… well, maybe not safe, but they’ll have a chance.”
When the Gur took their leave, Astarion let himself finally slouch and lean against her, the exhaustion from the day catching up to him, “Please, love, I don’t want to be here any longer.”
He’d surprised himself, back at Elfsong, asking her to help him wash the viscera from his hands, his hair. He had attempted to make a joke, say that he couldn’t very well tell when he was clean since he couldn’t use a mirror.
She had smiled, and given him the courtesy of a sweet laugh, “Of course,”
And as always, her touch was gentle. As always, she spoke quietly, asking if he was alright, if it hurt, if she could run her hands through his hair, run her hands down his back, his arms, his legs, if he would rather she turn away as he finished washing, and he would blurt out for her to stay, always stay. Of course she would always stay, he never needed to ask because she knew she would never leave. But he had to know, he had to know that if he asked, when he asked, she’d humor him.
“Could I have the night, mayfly?” He asked, not looking at her, fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt.
“Anything you need, starlight,” She fixed the loose ribbon that kept his shirt from splaying open before tilting his chin lightly so he would look at her, “As long as you need, okay?”
He smiled and caught her hand as she let it fall, kissing her knuckles, the skin had split from her desperate spell casting earlier in the day, “Thank you,”
She was worried, of course. She always worried about him. Worried about him even while they were in each other’s arms. It came with the territory, she told herself. Her fear of losing him never did leave after the butler had appeared to her that night, telling her she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from killing the one she cared for most. Astarion had been understanding, empathetic.
But she’d remained terrified that if Cazador wasn’t going to kill him, then she would. And now that Cazador was dead, the only thing endangering him was her.
“Darling?”
Tian Ai shook herself out of her thoughts, feeling Astarion’s fingertips prod her arm lightly, “Is everything alright?”
“Oh, yes. I changed my mind about wanting to be alone tonight. I was wondering if I could show you something?”
He held out his hand to help her sit up in the bed, trying to keep the guilty expression off his face when she winced from her wounds. He knew that she didn’t blame him, but it didn’t mean he didn’t blame himself whenever she got hurt.
“Of course,” She only ever had smiles for him, and took his hand to stand and follow him back outside to the city.
They didn’t talk much as they walked together, not until they reached the graveyard and stopped in front of a headstone that been overgrown with knotted vines. She could barely make out the lettering that had been carved into it.
She let him talk. Listened to him explain how 200 years ago, he had clawed his way out of the earth, and how Cazador had been waiting. Listened to him explain that in 200 years, he’d never returned to the place, that he had nearly forgotten it.
Nearly.
He cut away the vines, and watched her set a flower against the headstone, a little smile growing on his face as he watched her. She had a sort of melancholy expression on her face, her eyes lingering on the lettering, as if she was trying to turn back the tides and make it so that maybe this time, he would have known peace.
He reached for her hands and again brought them to his lips, her knuckles tender as her body quietly healed itself, he let his lips linger before speaking.
He thanked her again, told her that for a wretched moment he had forgotten all that she had proven to him. He looked up at her and asked if she would have hated him if he had chosen to complete the ritual, chosen to damn his soul and everyone else’s.
“Do you think I would have hated you?” She asks him softly, watching his expression waver.
“I- I don’t know.”
“I wouldn’t have.” She reached forward to tuck a curl behind his ear, fascinated with the way the moon’s rays lit up his hair.
“What would you have done? If I had gone ahead and done it?” He tilted his face into her palm, relishing in her cool touch, his eyes sliding closed for a moment as he let himself lean into her hold.
“Interrupted it. I don’t know how, but I would’ve tried to stop you. You would’ve hated me for it, but it would’ve been okay, because you wouldn’t have damned yourself at least.” She had tilted her face with him, mirroring his movements as he flickered his eyes open at her words.
“I would’ve understood.” He protested, eyes opened in a wide droop, insulted.
“Would you have?” She raised her brow, challenging him the way she always did when she knew he was lying.
He frowned slightly, and let himself muse over his thoughts. Would he have understood? He had barely kept himself together when she had refused him gently, she had stayed her hand and reasoned with him the way she always did when he was on a precipice.
“Maybe not immediately,” He sighed, relenting, “What if you hadn’t stopped me?”
“I still wouldn’t have hated you.” She swipes her thumb across his cheek, “I would have stayed. Kept you safe. Kept the others safe.”
“I would’ve become like Cazador.” He sighs, straightening up before shifting closer to her, their knees touching as they stayed face to face, “I know now, I would have become like him. Monstrous, trapped all the same.”
“I would’ve found a way to free you.”
“You would have needed to kill me.”
“And I would’ve followed behind you.” She said it so matter-of-factly that Astarion almost hadn’t realized her words at all.
He blinked at her, and funnily enough, found himself smiling at the knowledge that no matter his decision, she would’ve found a way to save him.
“I don’t deserve you-,”
“Astarion,” She started, rolling her eyes.
“But, I want to spend the rest of our lives trying to deserve you. I love you, I love this. I want this forever- assuming, you feel the same.” He’d spoken the last few words so quickly that they had run into each other, his eyes flickering away from her face in a moment of slight embarrassment.
Tian Ai reached to cup his face, watching the way his eyes slid closed as he relaxed into her hand, “I loved you from the moment I saw you.”
Astarion chuckled, lifting his eyes to look at her, “Even though I tried to pull a knife on you?”
She rolled her eyes, “Couldn’t get the better of me even when I was distracted, hm?”
“No,” He shook his head, leaning forward to fix a piece of her hair, letting his fingers trace the roundness of her cheek. “You always did disarm me in the loveliest of ways, dear.”
She laughed softly, catching his hand in hers, kissing his fingertips, “I promise to try and distract you less.”
“That sounds horrible, I’d only ever want to be distracted by you, Mayfly.” He pulled his hand from her hold to once again cup her face, leaning close to kiss her, tasting the sorcery that seemed to live even on the skin of her lips.
“Forever?”
“Forever.”