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“Tired, tired, tired,” Lark muttered to herself as she kicked her boots off into her tent ahead of herself, wincing as she heard something get knocked over inside. “That sounded expensive.”
“Lark, do you have a moment?”
She looked over her shoulder to find Astarion standing there, looking on edge and not like his unruffled and unbothered usual self. She perked her ears for signs of trouble, but when she heard none, nodded. “Yes,” she said, shrugging off the holster for her crossbow. “Just let me get all this shite off first and I’ll meet you over by the shore.”
“Of course.”
She shrugged off her armor, dropping it onto the ground to be dealt with later, carefully storing her violin and bow into their well-worn case, and tugged on the clothes she used to lounge around in. It was a glorified over-shirt that reached her knees and was tied off with a swath of indigo-colored fabric, with a wide neck that showed her ridges and maybe a bit too much of her pale flesh, but no one had complained about it so far so she continued wearing it. She got more grief for the fact that she preferred to walk around bare foot once her armor was off, and she had a bad habit of sneaking up on everyone--it was joked about often that a bell was going to be purchased so they could locate her in the dark.
She let her hair down from its braids and then shook it out, the glamoured gold disappearing and becoming ashy blonde once more as the magic wore away. She washed off her makeup, leaving only the stains of her blue theater makeup. She climbed out of her tent, gave Scratch and Peaches scritches, the owlbear cub playfully nipping at her fingers in greeting, and then wandered down to the shoreline where she could find Astarion looking out over the misty water, jaw set and eyes far away. She wished she had brought her sketchbook to take down the sight of him, not that she didn't already have a small collection of sketches of his profile, of him reading, even of him glaring at her.
“You wanted to talk?” she asked, stretching up onto her toes, playfully swatting him with the spade of her tail to gain his attention.
“Yes,” he said, voice airy and as far away as his eyes before he looked at her.
She smiled encouragingly. “You’re looking especially serious,” she quipped, crossing her arms against the slight chill that didn’t really bother her enough to put on more than her over-sized tunic.
“I think we need to talk,” he said, finally turning to her.
Her stomach dropped and she stepped back a little so she could look up into his claret-colored eyes, darkened by the angle and the gloom. “Okay,” she said uncertainly. “Are you all right?”
“Oh, yes. I’m fine. I just—I feel awful,” Astarion said, glancing down at their feet in the somewhat sandy earth. She didn’t see any of his usual mirth or teasing and it was making her nervous. Anxiety pounded in her bloodstream and it made her vision swim. “Look. . .I had a plan. A nice, simple plan—seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so that you’d never turn on me.” He chuckled but there was no joy in it, it was forced and his face didn’t match it. Even still, she felt like she was going to be sick. “It was easy—instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do. . .was fall for it.”
Blood rushed in her ears and she felt sick. Tears burned in her eyes. She knew, deep in her heart, had always known that that was what was happening and she had told herself not to get attached, to keep her heart hard and not let him past the wall of ice. It was a dalliance, it was a game—they had just been playing a game. She’d known it.
Then why did the words hurt so badly?
“And all I had to do was. . .not fall for you. Which is where my. . .nice, simple plan. . .fell apart.” She glanced up at him, tears still burning in her eyes as she saw his face fall from the fake smile in his voice. “Lark, you’re. . .you are incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”
A hiccup came from her when she went to speak and she stepped back so she could voice what she was thinking without interference. His eyebrows drew together but he didn’t try to touch her. “Were you ever even really attracted to me?” she asked, the words like ash in her mouth, watering with the urge to be sick. Every time her mother had called her an ugly duckling, unfortunate, sickly, and many other things echoed in her head and made her dig her claws into her arms and want to claw into them as she always had when she felt on the edge of such thoughts. It was stupid and childish to be worrying about that of all things but it came tumbling out before she could stop it.
"Of course I was, and am, attracted to you,” he said and the earnestness made the tears finally fall down her face, tracking along her burning cheeks—the dam broke and the emotions she hid behind her porcelain mask came flooding out. “Look at you. You’re a vision! The Swan of Baldur’s Gate, a bard that sparkles wherever she goes and can charm anyone with just a wink and a smile. . .you’re beautiful. And so much more than just that. You always make everyone around you feel better, even when you’re not even trying–you. . .you make me feel. . .safe.”
She let out another sob, turning away and trying to wipe the tears away hurriedly. “Those nights we spent together. . .the–the night of the party a-after the Grove. . .did that mean anything to you?” she asked, the words coming out shriller than she had meant them, hiccupping on her words. Her mouth trembled on the words and she had to bite her lip to keep her face from twitching on the torrent of emotion that threatened to swallow her.
“Of course they did–that’s the problem,” he said, running a hand through his hair, appearing frustrated. “Or. . .part of it.”
She held herself tighter, swallowing the sob that wanted to claw up her throat. She felt like such a child. This was stupid. It was stupid of her to be so upset. She knew what this was, had told herself over and over that this is what this was.
“Why did. . .why. . .” She couldn’t get the words out of her mouth, her tongue felt like it was heavy with glue. She dug her claws into her skin, feeling them pierce into her forearms, pain erupting there and grounding her. “Why did you lie? Force yourself to have sex with me? You. . . .you could have just told me.”
“I don’t know how else to be with someone, Lark. Not many are like you,” he said, voice strained and full of grief. “I don’t know what real looks like—most people. . .most people expect what you saw of me. That’s what you got. . .you got the rake. Being close to someone—any kind of intimacy—was something I. . .performed. . .to lure people back to him. Even though things between us are different, not just a sham anymore, being with someone still feels tainted. Still brings up feelings of disgust and loathing. I don’t want it to be that way with you. But I don’t know how else to be with someone. . .no matter how much I’d like to. No matter how much I want to push it down and forget when I’m with you, it still doesn’t feel like it should.”
A few moments of swallowing and clearing her throat later, she looked up at him and saw him fighting with himself just as much as she was. Astarion was a guarded man, hiding behind his smile and sarcastic comments as well as she hid behind her bright smile, witty jokes, and carny behavior. And yet he was pouring himself out to her, laying his soul bear. . .as she was doing, and had done. And it was in that moment that she still found a twin flame within the vampire spawn, for better or for worse. She held her breath, damned the consequences, and took a leap of faith.
She steadied herself, pulling her sleeves down over the minor wounds she’d inflicted. “Deep down I knew you were trying to manipulate me,” she breathed, tears still burning down her cheeks. “I’m a carny. I know when people are lying to me because I lie to them. But I told myself I could play along and not get my heart broken. I thought we were dying and I really liked you otherwise so I. . .opened myself up and risked it all. But I am a child in the games of lust and love. Flirting is as far as I had ever gotten before I let you in.” Astarion looked ashamed for a moment but her face softened. “But I know I do care about you, Astarion. Deeply.”
“Really?” he asked, eyes sad but still hopeful.
She let her arms fall and she took a step closer. When he didn’t pull away from her, she stepped forward again into his personal space, wrapping her arms around his middle. She buried her face into his chest, making sure to tilt her head so that her horns wouldn’t hit him in the face. She squeezed him even when he didn’t move, his body going tense against her. She gripped his tunic in her fingers and breathed in the smell of his skin and soap before she felt him finally inhale and then wrap his arms around her, dropping his face into the slope of her shoulder.
Relaxing, she moved to grip his shoulders from beneath his arms, resting her chin on his shoulder. She allowed her tail to slink around them both and it squeezed around his legs as well, every part of her holding him as tightly as she could. “I’m willing to wait as long as you need,” she whispered, blinking away tears and sniffling. “Doesn’t matter how long.”
He squeezed her a bit tighter and she allowed him to hold her as long as he needed. She listened to the water burble beside them, the crickets chirp merrily in the grass, their companions chattering away in the campsite beyond, unaware of their conversation. When his grip finally slackened, she let go and looked up at him, smiling. “You’re full of surprises. . .aren’t you?” he asked with a gentle smile, the kind only she ever got to see. “Honestly, I don’t know what we’re doing. . .this is all uncharted territory. But I know this. . .” He pulled her back in close and she slid her arms about his neck, allowing the closeness. “This is nice.”
“It is,” she murmured back, eyes scanning his face, near as colorless as her own in the moonlight. “Can I kiss you?”
His eyebrows rose, as though he was shocked that anyone would ask. “Of course, darling,” he said, the purr in his voice making her belly coil tight.
She pressed up on her toes and pressed her lips to his gently, closing her eyes and letting herself feel the press of his lips into hers. It was just a sweet, chaste press before she pulled away and dropped her head into his shoulder again, and that was all she needed. He ran one hand up and down the curve of her spine and she smiled faintly.
“Does. . .does this mean we're courting now?” she teased half heartedly.
“You know,” he said, pulling his head back to consider. “I suppose it does.” She giggled at the absolute absurdity of it all. He’d taken her virginity, drank her blood, and made her see stars when in his embrace. . .and yet they were going to take a few steps back and go into the age-old ritual that many did as young adults. How odd a couple they were, truly. “Though I am not opposed to sleeping next to one another, if you're not. Even if its with the damn owlbear at our feet.”
“I sleep better with someone near anyway—odd considering I lived alone before all this,” she smiled, chuckling because she knew he liked Peaches, even if he pretended to be annoyed by the owlbear cub. “If we are to be courting one another, there's some things you should know.” He looked concerned for a second but she just giggled and patted his chest. “Nothing terrible, don’t give me that look. My favorite flower is Lily of the Valley, sweet red wine is my favorite though brandy is good too, and I like stargazing. . .also I am partial to cuddling.”
He laughed, a sound that made her grin, made her heart lighter than air. “Fair,” he said, still smiling when he looked at her. “I shall remember that. And find more things you like.”
She cupped his cheek, running her thumb over the small laugh lines beneath his eye. “We’ll learn how to do this together. You’re not alone anymore. I promise.” The sigh he gave seemed as though it was allowing a great weight to slide from his shoulders and she couldn’t have been happier.