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“I just don’t see the point.” Astarion’s words bit into Xelakiir like ice-cold barbs, and she stared up at him, trying to take in his confession that he had slept with her only to secure her help against Cazador. Their two nights together had meant nothing to him beyond that, and he felt no need to continue with the charade now that he had what he wanted. He had used her, and for the first time, he had managed to truly hurt her. She was accustomed to him throwing around petty judgements, snide remarks, and sadistic commentary, but up until this very moment, he had never said anything genuinely capable of wounding her. But she didn’t get angry. She didn’t snap. Her grip on her emotions was far too tight to let herself lose control like that. All the same, she felt that subtle shift in the Weave around her, her chaos threatening to burst out with the force of this sudden, intense anguish. She clenched her fists and replied in a quiet, pained voice.
“You didn’t have to do that, Astarion. You’re my friend. I would have promised to protect you anyway.” At this, Astarion’s sneer shifted into a look of bewilderment, as if the concept of friendship was foreign to him and he found the idea ridiculous. “Scoff if you want. It won’t make it any less true.” Without giving him the opportunity to respond, Xelakiir turned on her heel and briskly walked away.
She couldn’t focus. She felt ill. An ache was building behind her eyes. She made it as far as the edge of camp before she had to swiftly hide behind a large tree, falling back against its trunk and sliding to the ground as tears began to fall down her face. For the first time in years, she sat and cried. She didn’t even really understand why. She’d always known the kind of person Astarion was, and their relationship had never really been romantic; she’d only ever seen it as a trusting arrangement between friends. So why was she so upset? Why did she feel like he’d stabbed her in the heart? Worse yet, why did she still want to be his friend? Maybe she really was the naïve fool he’d so often proclaimed her to be. Gods, she was pathetic.
“There you are! I was wondering if you’d- oh,” she heard Shadowheart call out several minutes later as footsteps approached and then stopped suddenly. Xelakiir hastily wiped the tears from her face and looked up to see Shadowheart a few feet away, holding a bottle of Evereskan wine and a couple of travel mugs whilst gazing down at her with a shocked expression. “Sorry. I’ll just…” She started to back away, but Xelakiir shook her head.
“No! No, it’s fine. Sit. I’d welcome a little juice of the vine right now.”
“If you’re sure,” Shadowheart replied warily.
“Quite.” Xelakiir gestured to the spot next to her, and her friend at last acquiesced, settling down beside her and popping the cork on the bottle to pour the rich red liquid into each of their mugs. She took a sip and raised her eyebrows. “Where’d you get such a quality vintage?”
“It was one of the bottles Astarion and I recovered from that cellar yesterday,” Shadowheart explained with a smile which faded into a discerning look when she caught the way Xelakiir fidgeted at Astarion’s name. “He’s done something to upset you, hasn’t he?”
“Is it that obvious?” Xelakiir replied with an air of self-pity before she took another, bigger sip of wine.
“It was once my job to be able to read people, and I know you.” Damn. Well, she couldn’t argue with that. “Don’t worry. I won’t pry.” Shadowheart gave her a sympathetic smile. “But if you’d like, I can turn him to ash.” Xelakiir couldn’t help but laugh at that.
“Tempting, but no. He just…he…” She struggled to say it. She was so often the willing ear and the shoulder to cry on for all her friends, but when it came to sharing her own pain, it was like her tongue was made of lead. That didn’t feel fair, especially to Shadowheart, who had let her in countless times despite her strong inclination to be secretive, so she tried. “He finally said something that really hurt,” she confessed, her voice shaking a little as tears welled up in her eyes again. “You’ve probably picked up on the fact that he and I…we had…an arrangement.”
“Yes,” Shadowheart said patiently. Xelakiir took another big sip of wine before continuing.
“Well, apparently he was just trying to manipulate me into caring about him so I’d have his back against Cazador, and he just threw that all in my face when I asked him why he’d been staying away lately! I thought we were friends! I thought, despite his acerbic nature, that he knew that and cared about me! But no. And now he’s made a bloody fool of me.”
“That is cruel, even for him.” Shadowheart looked appropriately disturbed and dismayed by this news, but seemed unsure how to respond further. Providing comfort wasn’t something that came naturally to her.
“Is it wrong of me to think he can be better than this? Am I wrong to see the good in him, even when he’s at his worst? I just…I don’t know anymore. There’s so much about him that I thought I understood, but I’m questioning all of it now.” Xelakiir watched Shadowheart ponder this for a moment before she answered.
“I can’t pretend to know a great deal about these sorts of things or what Selûne has to say on the matter, but I can tell you what I’ve observed about Astarion and what I know about you. Astarion doesn’t really dislike you; he’s scared of you and barely able to hide it. You fly in the face of his entire worldview. You dare him to be better, and as far as I’ve seen, you’ve never once been wrong about a person.” Shadowheart finished her statement with a small, encouraging smile, but it didn’t quite pierce Xelakiir’s brooding.
“There’s a first time for everything.”
“True, but I can hardly question you when I’m proof that your belief in the goodness of people is well-founded.” That was a good point, but Xelakiir still felt it was a bit different. She’d sniffed out Shadowheart’s moral conflict within days of meeting her.
“To be quite fair, I knew you had hidden depths the moment I caught you playing with the dog.”
“You say that like you haven’t also seen Astarion play with the owlbear.”
“I have, but his delight in dangerous beasts is hardly a surprise.” Shadowheart made a you’ve-got-me-there expression at this and shrugged a little.
“My point is that you’re not wrong about him, but he is a bastard and there’s no excuse for how he’s treated you. One way or the other, he’ll have to pay his penance.”
“You really want to light up his tent with holy fire, don’t you?” Xelakiir said, narrowing her eyes at Shadowheart, who looked unbothered and sipped her wine.
“And what of it?”
“I’m touched, but please don’t.”
“Alright, but if you change your mind…”
“I’ll let you know. Oh, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring this up with any of the others. Gale might fireball him in the face.” Xelakiir was certain that Gale still felt rather raw from the night he’d confessed his feelings to her and she’d had to gently turn him down. Finding out Astarion had mistreated her like this might be hard for him to handle calmly.
“I think Halsin would tear Astarion to shreds with those big bear claws of his before Gale even finished casting his spell, but I digress. As ever, your secret is quite safe with me,” Shadowheart promised.
“Thank you. But Halsin? Sweet, soft-spoken Halsin?” Xelakiir questioned in bewilderment, and a knowing glint appeared in Shadowheart’s eyes.
“Gale may give you the big sad puppy eyes, but Halsin is the one who can’t stop looking, and I know devotion when I see it.”
“Why would he…what? No. What?” Xelakiir’s confusion deepened and Shadowheart gave her a significant look.
“Halsin seems quite invested.”
“But I’m…I mean, he’s always been nice, but…what would he want with me? I’m a walking disaster. Always have been, even before the tadpole. He’s seen me nearly blow us all up twice . Are you sure he’s not just watching me for signs of another wild surge?” Xelakiir babbled, anxiously pushing a stray lock of white hair behind her pointed dark ear.
“Xelakiir, we’re talking about a man who says things like ‘wherever you need me’ and holds his cloak over you when it rains,” Shadowheart told her exasperatedly with admittedly a rather good Halsin impression. “All I’m saying is that he seems eager to treat you right, unlike a certain vampire.”
“Well, that’s…I…um…” Xelakiir found she had trouble articulating her feelings about this. Thinking of Halsin made her feel warm in her chest in a way that Astarion never had, and that had been true since the day she’d met him. He had a magnetism about him that made him hard to ignore. Maybe it was his imposing figure. Maybe it was the calm in his voice. Maybe it was his sincerity. Whatever it was, it was powerful, and she’d simply chosen not to think on it until now, because he’d always seemed so…unattainable. Gods, did she have a crush?
“My, my. I’ve never seen you so flustered,” Shadowheart teased with a small smile and Xelakiir gave a heavy sigh, hoping to save face and expel these overwhelming feelings.
“Alright, alright, I’ll ask him to come with me into town tomorrow. I would enjoy his company.”
“Sounds like an excellent plan. Cheers to marching onward to better things.” Shadowheart clinked her mug against Xelakiir’s and took a drink while Xelakiir sat stunned by the sudden realization that her friend had just completely derailed her very fresh and anguished lamentations about Astarion to get her to pay her attentions to Halsin instead. She’d be mad if it weren’t so obvious now that she’d needed the push.
“You’re a good friend, Shadowheart. A scary friend, but a good friend.”
“Just following your example.” Shadowheart gave her a full smile then, conveying her gratitude for Xelakiir’s friendship and counsel. She smiled back and drank her wine, taking a moment amidst everything to appreciate the fact that she had people who really did care about her.
Shadowheart stayed and kept her company for a while longer, letting the conversation wander to unimportant matters, before deciding to retire to her tent for the night and leaving Xelakiir alone with her thoughts once more. She looked back up the hill towards camp to see Karlach eagerly telling Jaheira, Lae’zel, and Wyll a story around the fire. Gale and Astarion were both sitting by their tents reading, Gale with a half eaten wedge of cheese on his lap and Astarion with a goblet in hand. She couldn’t see Halsin, however. Perhaps he was out of view, talking to Scratch in the old barn or something. Without Shadowheart there to encourage her, she felt rather silly about the whole thing. She pulled her legs up to her chest and rested her chin on one knee as she tried not to think about Halsin anymore. Mooning over him would just make her into an even bigger fool than she already was, and it certainly wasn’t going to chase away the pain of Astarion’s manipulation. She let out a long, tired sigh and looked up at the moon.
“Dark Maiden spare me,” she muttered. There came a rustling of foliage and her gaze snapped to the source to see a bear lumbering towards her. She nearly gave a start, but she saw its intelligent hazel eyes and immediately knew she was looking at the very friend she’d been trying to put out of her mind. There was a pulsing golden glow across the bear’s pelt and the sound of shifting flesh as it stood upright and transformed into a burly wood elf who wasn’t much smaller than the bear.
“You seem forlorn, my friend. What troubles you?” he asked, giving her an earnest look of concern as he approached.
“Nothing of any real importance. Where’ve you been?” She shifted a little to the side, signaling that he was welcome to join her. He sat down beside her, and she suddenly felt very giddy, which prompted her to mentally swat herself with a book.
“Just roaming. It was quite peaceful, almost meditative. Did I miss anything?”
“Not really. I’ve just been looking at the sky and thinking about my choices.”
“Ah, I can only presume this is the source of your melancholy. I know the perils of self-reflection all too well.” Halsin fixed her with a sympathetic expression that held a hint of humor, and she gave him a slightly sheepish smile.
“You would be correct.”
“If you need an ear for your worries, I will listen,” Halsin offered.
“Perhaps another time. Right now, I’d prefer to think of other things.”
“Ah, in that case, I have something for you that might bring you some cheer. It’s just a little thing, but I hope you will enjoy it.” From a pouch on his belt, he produced a carved wooden cat and presented it to her. In his hand, it seemed rather small, but when she took it, it was easier to see that it was about the size of a candle, no taller than her own hand and thick enough that she couldn’t quite wrap her fingers entirely around it.
“Did you whittle this?” she asked, turning it this way and that admiringly.
“I did,” Halsin answered, his tone somewhere between pride and anxiety.
“For me?”
“For you.” Xelakiir’s heart swelled at this, and she looked up at him with deep appreciation, her violet eyes glistening. After being used and cast aside like trash but Astarion, receiving such a thoughtful and well-crafted gift was overwhelming.
“It’s wonderful. Thank you, Halsin. For the carving and for thinking of me.” She held the wooden cat to her chest and smiled shyly.
“I am always thinking of you,” he replied softly. “You are a dear friend, Xelakiir, and it is always a pleasure to see you smile. I’m glad you like my humble offering.” Being spoken to and valued like this by such a man was almost too much. She could scarcely breathe for the fire in her heart. Maybe Shadowheart was right. Maybe she could dare to hope. Maybe she could let herself want him.
“Can I trouble you for a hug?” she asked, trying very much not to sound like a desperate desert wanderer at the promise of an oasis. Halsin grinned and enveloped her delicate frame in his enormous arms, pulling her against his broad chest.
“No trouble at all,” he assured her. His warmth chased away the autumn night chill and contentment settled into her weary muscles as she leaned against him. Now if only he could squeeze a little harder and snap her in half, thus solving her back pain and indeed all of her other worldly problems in one go. But alas, he was holding her gently and with great care, ever mindful of his immense strength, and she admittedly found that even more endearing. She could get use to this. She hoped she would have the chance to.