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The battle today had not gone to plan. A few days after the tiefling party in celebration of the killings of the goblin camp leaders, your group had decided to explore some of the caves nearby. When crossing the spider web bridges spanning large drops, an angry phase spider attacked, slashing the bridge in half. Lae’zel and Shadowheart had already crossed, with you managing to claw onto the edge, Shadowheart quickly pulling you to safety.
Astarion was not as lucky. He had been following behind you, stuck in the middle of the bridge as it fell. Your heart had dropped, hearing yourself scream out his name without even realizing. Lae’zel had to hold you back from climbing down to him, hastily whispering in your ear that it wasn’t safe.
As soon as your group had managed to kill all the spiders, you scrambled down the stone columns to Astarion. He was sitting up, face twisted in pain and cupping his ankle. As soon as he saw you, he changed his face to be neutral, trying to hide his pained scowl. You had helped him up, pulling his arm over your shoulder before guiding him back to camp with the rest of your group.
Now it was a few hours later, the fading sun’s rays shining over your camp, bathing it in a warm light. Gale was standing near Astarion, finishing up a healing spell. You stood off to the side, worried but not wanting to crowd the wizard and the vampire.
“That’s as much as I can do, it will have to heal the rest of the way by itself. I expect it will be sore for a few days, but that should be all,” Gale sighs as he pulls away, brushing his hands on his robes.
Astarion nods, stretching before wincing slightly. Gale was already walking away, but it didn’t escape your eyes. You hesitantly walk over, already aware of the silver haired vampire’s temper whenever he shows weakness.
“Here, let me help,” you offer quietly, crouching down beside him. Astarion gazes at you through his lashes, his eyes conflicted.
“It’s okay to be hurt, y'know,” you lightly tease, already noting how closed off he’s trying to be.
Astarion sighs, looking pointedly at the ground for a few moments before slowly nodding.
You smile, standing up again. “I’ll be right back, try not to miss me,” you joke as you walk away, grinning to yourself at the small smirk that you got out of him.
You grab a washcloth before walking over to the stream by your camp, soaking it in the cool water before wringing out the excess water.
You return moments later, kneeling down next to the vampire, looking into his eyes for any hint of discomfort. Astarion gazes back at you, his eyes nervous yet surprisingly vulnerable.
You smile to yourself, glad to be finally easing down his walls he’s built up, surely because of his time under Cazador.
“Stop me if this hurts,” you warn, moving your washcloth to his ankle. You gently wash off the grime, careful around the angry purple bruises. Astarion’s face scrunches slightly in pain, but he doesn’t say anything.
You continue, making sure he’s thoroughly clean before pulling back. His gaze is soft, unguarded as you look at him.
“Tender?” You ask, glancing at his bruised ankle. He pauses for a moment before nodding.
“Landed on it wrong, after the web broke,” he sighs, his words bitter.
You look at him, your eyes gleaming with sympathy. “It’s not your fault, you know,” you gently take his face into your hand, beginning to wipe the sweat and dirt off his face with the washcloth. “No one thinks you’re any weaker, I assure you.”
Astarion absentmindedly leans into your touch, his eyes closing in content. His shoulders are still tense, this kind of vulnerability new to him.
“I heard you yell,” he slowly opens his eyes, gazing at you.
You pause your movements, freezing slightly. “I yelled?” you ask, slightly confused.
He chuckles softly, nodding. “Oh yes, you sounded very worried,” he smirks.
Your cheeks flush and you pull back, arms in your lap. You don’t say anything, a little embarrassed to have apparently been so openly distraught.
Astarion doesn’t push you to speak, content to wait for you to.
You think back to the moment, the feelings from it washing over you. You had thought he had died. Or at least, was close to it. The caves you were in were deep, the height between the levels staggering.
“I…” you begin, trying to gather the right words, “I thought you had died.” You look at him, your eyes tender and sad.
His eyebrows raise slightly. “I didn’t think you’d care if I had,” he says slowly, his mind trying to wrap itself around your words.
Your shoulders tense, your face showing your mild offense. “Of course I’d care, you asshole,” you chide, slowly placing your hand back on his cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, honestly.”
His eyes soften, taking in what you said. “You’re not allowed to die,” you joke, attempting to lighten the mood, “I forbid it.”
Astarion laughs, placing his hand over yours on his cheek. “Oh darling, I don’t plan to anytime soon,” he smirks, his usual bravado returning now that he’s not the one who has to be open.
You smile, taking your hand off his cheek, punching him lightly in the shoulder.
He dramatically flinches, holding his shoulder for effect. “How dare you hurt me, I’m injured, love,” he feigns.
You scrunch your nose at him, “I take back what I said, you’re allowed to die.”
He pulls back, face half-heartedly offended. “What a change of heart, going from trying to launch yourself over a cliff to help me, to now wishing death upon me,” he shakes his head, “I didn’t realize you were such a masochist, dear.”
You blush at his implications, turning away. “You’re much nicer when you’re on the brink of death, you know?” You retort, crossing your arms.
“Oh, you love me anyways though,” he hums, scooting closer and placing a hand on your thigh. You turn to him, pouting.
Astarion takes the opportunity, leaning in and kissing you. Your eyes widen in shock before you reciprocate, placing a hand on his arm.
He pulls back after a few moments, leaving you to catch your breath. “For the record, thank you,” he says sincerely, resting his forehead against yours.
“For what?” you question, gazing into his eyes, admiring their red hue.
“For… caring, I guess,” he admits, “I’m not used to it, and I appreciate it.”
You smile, leaning in and planting a quick kiss on his lips. “Of course I care, I wouldn't meet someone in the woods after a party if I didn’t,” you tease.
——
Later that night, everyone is gathered around the fire, eating the soup Wyll prepared. Chatter echoes across the camp, discussing various topics ranging from the tadpole, to Baldur’s Gate, to everyone’s lives before the tadpole abduction.
You glance over at Astarion, who seems to have shrugged off his earlier injuries, sitting perfectly fine as if he hadn’t plunged multiple feet in a cave just hours before. Noticing your gaze, he turns to you, throwing you a wink before returning to his conversation.
You shake your head, smiling to yourself. Despite his rare vulnerability earlier, he’s still the same cocky, flirty vampire that you’ve grown fond of.