Chapter Text
The conversation was not, in fact, over.
Astarion had stuck close to Tav’s heels after her pronouncement, but then she’d gone to go pick through the loot for something Gale could swallow, and Karlach had to go rest from her overcharge. So when Shadowheart accosted him again in the hallway outside his room, it was only Wyll and Lae’zel who were there to hear (Lae’zel looking particularly grouchy, as the conversation had disrupted her sleep). The two of them were off to the side like some bizarre panel of judges, or maybe a jury.
“Is this a confession, darling? Planning to turn me in for a bit of extra spending money, hm?”
It was an interesting spar. She was pretending it didn’t matter to her, despite having interrupted her chance for rest in starting it. “Oh I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m no squealer. I might not remember much of my past but I’m sure the Fist would pay a nice sum for me too. But this isn’t about the money. Not really.”
From the sidelines Wyll spoke up, “Surely this is unnecessary, Shadowheart. Astarion’s not without his charms, after all.”
Astarion gave him a smile. “Thank you, Wyll. You were always my favorite.”
“Of course, he gained these charms as an undead vampire walking countless innocents to their doom.”
“—Go be a drip somewhere else, Wyll.”
Shadowheart smirked. “No, Wyll, do go on. That is an excellent point. And isn’t it true that his presence on this mission caused an entirely unnecessary fight when you were already exhausted and weakened?”
“Well…”
She didn’t stop there. “I value secrets as much as the next person. But this one was a problem. Who knows what else he’s keeping from us?”
Astarion’s thoughts flitted to the purple jewel uselessly burning a hole in his pocket. “You got me. I like to embroider in my spare time. My underthings are dotted with pink hearts all over. How shall I ever survive the scandal?”
He heard Wyll choke down a laugh.
Despite the smirk that tugged at her lips, he could tell Shadowheart wasn’t amused. “We all agreed to tolerate a vampire in our midst as long as he proved useful. Tell me, how long until the others decide you’re more trouble than you’re worth?”
“More trouble than he’s worth,” Lae’zel snarled, interjecting into the conversation for the first time. “That would be a great deal of trouble indeed. The powers of a vampire spawn are not inconsiderable. Especially when compared to your paltry strengths.”
Genuine anger shot through Shadowheart’s face at that. “I didn’t ask you.”
“All I have heard tonight is useless bleating. Astarion is a worthwhile asset. That is all that matters.”
“Perhaps I should have come out in his favor. That way you’d be arguing for him to leave since you are clearly just eager to contradict me.”
“I am Githyanki—I would be a fool to discard such a valuable tool from my arsenal out of petty spite.”
“Your arsenal? What, is that all we are to you? Lackeys for your demented mission?”
Lae’zel strode up to Shadowheart, teeth bared. “No. You are an obstacle.”
“Hey, ladies, come on.” Wyll finally stepped in, frowning. “Don’t make me get in between you.”
Getting in between the two women seemed like a good way to get killed, but who was Astarion to question their do-gooder’s choices?
He did take the opportunity to slink away, however. And above the growing shouts and hissed arguments, no one seemed to notice.
That Shadowheart.
It was almost funny. Astarion was sure he’d be laughing about it to himself eventually.
Insecure little snot.
The bounty was honestly not his fault. He’d been puzzling over it since the first time he’d been set upon by hunters, and still couldn’t come up with who was offering the reward. He hadn’t lied to Tav—no one who knew of his deeds under Cazador should know that he’d survived.
They’d killed his siblings first, those adventurers. After he’d watched them kill his hated master, the rancid magic of his ritual spilling into the air, they had turned their blades on the spawn. His “siblings” were still woozy, and thus helpless to resist, but being at the far end of the platform Astarion had had some time.
Time enough to throw himself over the edge and break his body against the rocks below.
He’d waited there, in the dark, clinging to the shred of life that remained within him. Listening to the screams as those same adventurers—and the Gur that had accompanied them—slaughtered their way through the rest of the hordes that Cazador had left locked up in the cells, powerless and rabid. A chorus of shrieks and screams. Then there were voices, talk that he couldn’t make out through the distance. It was only when the caverns were silent again that he’d dared to reach for the rats that scuttled about in the dark, and squeezed enough of their blood into his gaping mouth to heal. He’d climbed out of that hole and run, and never looked back.
A bounty on a Thayan, written by other Thayans…A bounty on a vampire, written by--
No.
No. They cut his head off. Astarion saw them. They cut his head off and burned the body. He was dead. Dead. And when Astarion had finally made his way back to that platform, there hadn’t been anything left. He was gone.
In hindsight, maybe he should have taken a different name.
There had been some of that caution at the beginning. Like he was still being hunted. But when neither Tav nor the rest of their party reacted to his name and his story, he’d just…assumed it was fine. That his identity was something he could safely keep.
Oh well.
Astarion crept around the inn, looking for her. She wasn’t in her room yet; in fact, no one was. The only thing left on Gale’s mattress was a sweat stain, which was odd but not really his concern.
From outside the window, a faint glow cut through the dark. At a glance outside, there was a purple light coming from the woods at the end of town, back where they’d come from when first arriving here. It wasn’t far. Barely any distance at all, to a vampire, even one who’d been through the sort of night he had. Might even be a decent enough clearing for what he had planned—pretty woodland scenes tended to appeal to many a city-dweller, in his experience.
And sure enough, when he arrived at the source of the light, there Tav was.
With Gale.
“Shit,” he muttered.
They’d shared a room last night, sure, but he’d been so relieved to have space all to himself he hadn’t thought to question…
Astarion waited there, watching as they spoke in hushed whispers.
They couldn’t be. They wouldn’t. She didn’t look at him like that. Gale didn’t look at her like that. The two of them, collectively, they were too dull to develop that particular complication.
He--he could try to maybe seduce the two of them together, but that would be significantly harder…
She had her palm to his bare chest, her brows stitched together with worry. Purple light spilled between her fingertips, Gale with his eyes shut tight, a grimace twisting his mouth. He wasn’t wearing his robes, and his casual wear loosely hung about his body.
They wouldn’t, they wouldn’t…
The glow of the orb began to abate. And as Gale’s body relaxed, Tav pulled away, the mask of concern lifting.
“Gale, this is a problem.”
“I know. I know. I should have told you sooner.”
“You said it was under control.”
“It is! I swear, this time just—just crept up on me. And you had more than enough to handle it, so…” He held out his arms before dropping them helplessly. “I promise I will always keep you informed if the situation changes.”
“And running out here? Without telling anyone?” Tav gestured at the woods around them. “You can’t do that.”
“I was—I was going to come back. It was rash, I know, I was just concerned that I might—"
“I didn’t know where you were.”
“I’m sorry, I panicked, I was still half asleep—”
Oh, this wasn’t even remotely a rendezvous. It was a lecture. An angry one, at that.
Okay. Good. They weren’t having sex. He could still salvage this.
Astarion went to his room. Washed off the dried blood. Dabbed on a few drops of the cologne he’d concocted for himself, rosemary, bergamot, and brandy. Made sure his hair felt just right. He might not have had use of a mirror, but that had never stopped him before. He knew what worked, knew these steps by heart. Two centuries of trial and error that he had down to an art form.
Though usually not against a target that could see him coming.
She was there in her room when he was finally ready. Their new stash of supplies already locked back up, the area neat and tidy. Gale was still gone, which was good, because his presence would certainly get in the way. Tav was sat cross-legged on the bed.
Journaling. He’d never taken the chance to sneak that little notebook she always carried with her, though he had gotten a peek once. It was in Common, but written backwards. Jobs, he thought—quest goals, loot, plans for later, that sort of thing. Nothing interesting, but then he hadn’t seen all of it. He wanted to read the whole thing one of these days.
He wasn’t looking to startle her, so even though he’d already opened the door, he knocked before entering.
Tav glanced up and snapped her book shut. “Astarion.” There was no displeasure there. Or at least, none directed at him. Good. “Did you need something?”
“You might say that.” He sauntered inside, keeping his voice even and smooth. “It’s been quite a night, hasn’t it?”
“It’s only midnight.”
“You know what I mean. Facing off against a necromancer and the hunters looking to kill him, and all before the moon’s hit its zenith!” He watched her scoot to the edge of the bed to let her legs hang off the side. Waited for her to be comfortable before continuing the performance. “A brush with such danger—can really give you clarity, I find. Our time can be so…distressingly short. We really should be making the best of it, don’t you think?”
“Short?” For all her fixation on reading little details, she didn’t seem to be getting the subtext he was driving at, which was mildly annoying. Instead she was looking at him with that perplexing concern, too annoyed to be bleeding heart sympathy but not quite devoid of care, not quite impersonal. “Astarion. I meant what I said. I have no intention of turning you in for any bounty.”
He laughed. He made himself laugh. Her little tricks only worked if you reacted to them the wrong way. “I know you wouldn’t, darling. …You’re so…dependable. So loyal. That’s just what I like about you. …Well. That, and…your other fine qualities.” He dragged his eyes across her body, a long and slow pull.
Nothing in her tone changed whatsoever. “Those are not the adjectives I usually use to describe myself, but I’m glad you think so. What did you come in here for?”
Hm. There were times in the past that Astarion could seduce someone with just that lecherous look alone, no words required.
“Why don’t you come to my room tonight?” he tried.
Tav stood, still faintly frowning. “I already have a room. What would I need yours for?”
What was wrong with this woman.
“Sex,” he said more bluntly.
She reared back. “Oh, you—” Blinked rapidly. Cheeks flushed that rosy lilac. Voice stumbled and trailing away. Soft. “Oh that’s…what you mean…”
“Darling Maybelle,” Astarion stepped in, hooked her chin with his finger before she showed off too much of her blush and tempted him into a very different sort of intimacy. “What a surprise! You can be adorable. When you’re flustered.”
That at least was true. Oh, if he’d known this was all it took to get under her skin, he would have been more forward sooner. He’d spent so long poking and wheedling with no success.
She tucked some of her hair behind her ear. Made a visible effort to regain her composure. It didn’t stop him from hearing her pulse. The subtle shifting of her posture. You couldn’t lie to a vampire.
“There should be a moratorium on using my name, I should have made that a rule…” she muttered.
“Come now. Don’t be coy. You know what they say about all work and no play, dear. Don’t tell me you haven’t been aching for some fun.”
She cocked her head at him. “I have fun. –I was going to sort the potion bottles we pulled from Toth’s lair.”
A laugh broke out of him before he could stop it. “Gods I can’t think of a more boring way to spend an evening--!” And then, remembering himself, he coughed and spoke more softly again. “Thank goodness you have me to give you a bit of excitement.”
“You really do want to—?" She shook her head. “I—I didn’t realize you—felt that way, is all.”
Another bark of laughter, this one more intentional. “Who said anything about feelings? I’m talking about depraved lust. Surely you’ve heard of it?” He tsked at her sympathetically. “You poor thing. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
Tav cleared her throat. “My line of work doesn’t typically put me in a position where I’m. Seen. In that light. So. Yes, it’s been a while.”
Another step. He was looming over her now; at least, as much as he could loom with a two-inch height difference. “Let me fix that for you. Let me make clear to you just how you were seen when you got yourself covered in the blood of that idiot cleric.”
The blood was cleaned off of her now, which was a shame. He didn’t even have to lie with that line; the way it had soaked through her hair, the smear on her cheek from his arterial spray. The way Tav had swung her blade to clear the blood on it, a clearly instinctive gesture that had put a pattern of splatter all over the rocky, cavernous wall. Astarion had liked it all very much.
Her heartbeat started to calm again, amusement playing on her face. He felt a bit of satisfaction that he’d read her correctly—this was her comfort zone. “…Oh, I should have known that blood played a part in this.”
“His. Yours. It’s all rather attractive. Honestly.” He chuckled. “But don’t worry. I won’t bite while we’re playing.”
“You could, though.”
He paused, lifted a brow at her.
“If you wanted to. –Just a mouthful. Not during, but, before, or maybe after.”
Oh. He felt a flicker of genuine arousal. “Well…aren’t you generous.”
She really was a pretty little thing. Disgustingly big doe eyes that made her look so sincere, flower petal lips that pursed when she thought. And she was…delicious. The best blood he’d ever tasted, and that was even now that he’d been given carte blanche to use his fangs in battle.
He could tolerate this.
“Before is better, I think,” he heard her murmur under her breath as he slipped his hands around her waist. “Because when you drink, you get…you get very…”
Astarion cut her off, pulling her into a kiss. Slow, sucking pressure against her lips, a hand splayed over her lower back and another carding up through her hair.
“Let’s wait until the others are asleep,” he said into her ear. She shivered at his voice. “Then you’ll come to me. We’ll…indulge. …But I think…since you are offering…I’m going to indulge myself right now.”
He bit down, and she let out a plaintive gasp as her body pushed into his.
When they left town the next day, the only thing anyone noted was that Tav looked well-rested for a change.