Chapter Text
The days passed in a haze, blending together in waves that rolled as one would upon an ocean of sorrow. The rough sounds of it crashed in constant rhythm, seamless and endless. What was once a distraction became a routine as those days dragged on, pulling away from the shore and carrying on further into the horizon.
Amaris sat idly on a bench, watching as the sun sank beyond the horizon, painting the sky a rich, rich purple. She always loved that color, but now it drove her heart to ache—knowing the day was ending, and with it, the crushing realization that very little progress had been made.
Astarion had at least grown somewhat acquainted with the taste of blood—that was a start. But the matter of his lost memories—that was a different story. Gale left to find some semblance of a solution to their dilemma, while Amaris stayed behind to care for her beloved.
Astarion mostly stayed in bed, slowly familiarizing himself with his new reality, bombarded by question after question of his identity. Amaris steeled herself, minding her answers as she refused to reveal certain parts of his life to prevent more conflict. Though, she wondered, if there would ever be a need to do so. He had suffered so much in those 200 years. Did he truly need that reminder while already in such a vulnerable state?
“No, no, I can’t…” Amaris mumbled to herself, running fingers through her hair and bowing her head downward. She faced the ground beneath her feet and listened to the waves crashing in the distance. The waves rolled over and over again, echoing into her muddled mind. So many thoughts, so many that tossed and turned like those waves—the sounds never ceased.
The sky darkened quicker than Amaris anticipated, but she should’ve realized that by now. She moved from the bench and dragged her feet back into the quiet house. Amaris switched on the hall lights, greeted by the pale orange glow of the oil lamps that led her into the bedroom.
Astarion sat on the bed, his lithe form pressed against a pair of fluffy white pillows. His silver-white hair blended quite well with the bedding and was quite disheveled. Astarion always minded his hair, but this time around, he didn’t seem to care. Amaris almost wanted to sweep in and fix it, but she yielded to the moment.
Astarion’s eyes trained on the leather-bound book in his pale hands. He was so engrossed that he didn’t realize Amaris had walked in until she awkwardly cleared her throat. Astarion raised his head, a weak smile drawn on his face and a faded twinkle in his eyes. Amaris’s heart ached further. While it was still him, it still wasn’t him. But she forced herself to smile and stood her ground. She was sure at any moment the floorboards would splinter and swallow her up.
“Enjoying that book?” Amaris asked, shifting her balance from one foot to the other.
“It’s sappy, honestly,” Astarion confessed with a light chuckle. “But yes, in some aspects, I am… It’s a nice distraction.”
“That’s good—great, really.” Amaris sighed, occupying the chair at the bedside. The chair groaned subtly at the strain, and she leaned back into the crest-rail. Amaris relaxed, her body slumping while her shoulders lowered. She wanted to chuckle alongside him, but couldn’t find it in herself to do so. Exhaustion had taken a toll, and what she needed was a nice, long rest. Gods, she couldn’t remember the last time she gave herself the privilege of a proper one.
“Are you hungry or anything?” she asked after a moment.
“No. Well… I guess I do have a constant hunger, don’t I?” Astarion quipped. “But I don’t want any blood right now. I think I had enough for today, and I’m pretty sure you killed off the squirrel population in the garden.”
Amaris finally released the chuckle she’d been harboring. The sound felt foreign to her, as if it didn’t belong to her, or that she didn’t deserve it. Regardless, it was a good feeling—a relieving feeling. It was a shame about the squirrels, though, but gods, she felt happy she’d done something right in the last few weeks.
“Poor squirrels,” Amaris said, lifting her head to the ceiling. “At least I gave them a quick death… Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No, I… I think I’m fine for now,” Astarion said, his attention back on the book, flipping to another page.
‘Except for the hunger…’ Amaris thought to herself, pinching her lip, wondering if she should return outside in search of one more squirrel. But the exhaustion became too much, and she found herself swaying in the chair.
“Amaris?”
Amaris jolted with a sharp gasp parting her lips. She pulled herself together as she came face to face with the concern in Astarion’s eyes. Those red eyes she loved so much carried such a soft, warm glow against the candlelight.
“You need to sleep,” Astarion insisted.
“I will. Don’t worry…”
Astarion’s face soured, not convinced that she’d told the truth, but decided not to press further. Amaris spoke those same words over and over before, and Astarion had grown tired of hearing them. He only released a drawn-out huff and shook his head.
“Why do you worry more about me than your own health?” Astarion asked. “It’s… not right.”
“I…” Amaris stumbled over the words, not knowing how to string them together in one coherent sentence. She ran her fingers through her hair again, tugging at the strands that had weaved around her digits. She heard the waves again… rolling over and over, consuming her thoughts once more in tangent.
‘I love you, that’s why,’ Amaris thought to herself but shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said with a heavy swallow. “I… I’ll go rest. I’ll be down the hall if you need me.”
In haste, Amaris retreated from the room before any words slipped from Astarion’s lips. She pressed down the dimly-lit hall, biting back the tears that fought to break through. With a grunt, Amaris wiped them away and raked her hand through her hair, tugging and pulling but in no way ripping them out—at least not yet.
Amaris made it to the sitting room and tossed herself onto the couch. She pressed her face into a pillow, groaning and whimpering until exhaustion took its toll on her. Amaris’s body slumped into the cushions as her dreamless sleep returned, bringing her into a haze that guided her further from the shore. Within the ocean, the weight of the waves pushed her down again and again with merciless throws, barely giving her time to resurface. She strived to break through, tried to flail her arms and grasp the darkness, but in return, the darkness smothered her. It smothered her until—
A gentle hand touched her shoulder.
Cracking her eyes open, everything in the room came to her in a messy blur. A mismatch of moonlight and shadows melted into one another, and the feeling on her shoulder never wavered. It was a light touch, almost tentative, but still eclipsing any other sensation in the cool room.
Amaris’s hazy gaze traced the outline of an arm through the darkness, and the familiar silhouette of Astarion gradually came into view. She could barely make out his face, shrouded in shadow, but it was clearly him, and he said something she couldn’t comprehend. All Amaris gathered was the soothing sound of his voice that lulled her back to sleep. The waves ceased, for once.