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Tav was feverish the whole night. They barely slept, but they weren't restless. Astarion could hear their heart quicken and weaken. He knew they didn't have much longer. He sat with them, the whole night, reminiscing of long over adventures and quests, of times long past, of their first meeting, of saving Baldur’s Gate. The moment he knew he had no choice but to love them.
Tav had aged. They had aged a good one hundred years since they slayed the Absolute and struck down The Dead Three's Chosen. Astarion did not. He watched in the shadows as Tav's hair grew grey and wiry, he watched wrinkles carve and crease their way through their smoothe skin, he watched their eyes lose their shine and grow dull with blindness, he watched their body become crouched with the weight of age. But Astarion stayed the same, his back did not bow, his skin kept it's porcelain smoothness, his eyes remained bright and sharp. He did not drink from Tav in these recent years, he wasn't sure they could withstand the toll it takes on them. So he returned to hunting at night, feeding on anything; just enough to sate his hunger, but never enough to kill.
"Astarion," said Tav weakly, pulling him from his thoughts as he laid beside them on the bed, still in his "day" clothes.
"Hmm? Yes, darling?" He looked over at them. They looked so beautiful, the dim candlelight nearly erased the hardest years from their face.
"I am so sorry, my dear," they said, reaching a hand to rest on his.
"Whatever for, my love?" he asked taken aback. He propped himself up on an elbow to get a better look at them. He slowly brought their hand up to his lips and kissed their knuckles.
"I could never help you. Not how you truly deserved. I never found a way t-"
"Hush, darling." He began, "you have nothing to be sorry for. Especially, not that." He whispered.
"There was never a day I didn't try, my heart." They said, tears welling up in their eyes.
"I know." He kissed the backs of their fingers, "I know, darling. That's all I could have hoped for. You can rest, finally."
Astarion could feel their heart begin to slow, their breathing soft and easy. Certainly not long now. His eyes locked onto the sheets, lost in thought. Tav shifted in the bed.
"Comfortable, my darling?" He asked.
"Some bright morning comes." They said. Astarion glanced up at them, their eyes had turned to face the window. The sky had become a deep navy, signaling the approaching dawn.
"Indeed, darling. Would you like to go see it?" He asked, watching their face in the candlelight. Tav hummed in response. Astarion had not been able to walk in the sun since the tadpole was removed one hundred years ago. He'd given up hopes of a cure for his vampirism about seventy five years ago, and had his reckoning with eternity in the shadows and the mortality of those around him. The memory hurts, but does him no harm.
"I think I would," they said.
"Then allow me," said Astarion. In one sweeping motion, he stood up from the bed and scooped them up in his arms. He made sure to keep their blanket with them to keep them warm in the cold pre-dawn hour. He carried them to their back porch and sat them on a deeply cushioned bench just outside the back door. They were up on a balcony overlooking the Chionthar and Lower City of Baldur's Gate. Their home nestled gently on a grassy hill just outside Rivington, away from the hustle and bustle, but close enough for Astarion’s nightly excursions.
Normally by now, Astarion would be settling into his own bed in the basement. He refused to get a coffin. Tonight, however, he chose to remain by Tav's side, among the many things he refuses, letting them die alone was indeed one of them. He'd remain by their side until they were gone and slip away back inside to alert the temple for services. Then he'd write their other companions, those that remained, anyway. They would all like to know. He didn't expect them to come for him, but to pay their respects to Tav, if they decided to stay for him, well good: another reason to break out a fine vintage.
He looked at Tav as he plotted his next few hours. One hundred years he'd known them, loved them. He watched them grow and change and survive and thrive. One hundred years he held them in his arms. One hundred years and not a single moment of it all a transaction. A thought he hadn't had in a long time. A pit formed in his stomach, empty and heavy at the same time. He'd miss them, painfully. He'd be lonely again.
"My star, you're quiet tonight." They said leaning their head back looking back at Astarion, and for a moment he could see a clarity he hadn't seen for quite some time.
"Much to think about," he said, turning closer to them. He propped his arm up on the back of the bench and let the back of his knuckle caress their cheek.
"You have that look. You're planning." They said.
"I am." He replied.
"Planning to stay?" They asked. Tav had a strange look on their face. They stared deeply into his eyes, something stirred in him. This was his choice. Astarion tilted his head, his own eyes searching their face for a hint of any kind. He looked back out over the horizon. The sky was a pale pink, the clouds were a deep purple, and birds were just starting on their songs. He looked back at Tav, who's eyes never left him.
"I think so, my love." He said finally. Tav nodded. They sat in silence a while longer, Astarion listening to their heartbeat get slower and slower, he watched their eyes close one last time, he watched their breath become shallow and cease. His knuckle still caressing their cheek. After them he's never going to be the same. To love and have been loved so fully, so completely. To have healed and been healed. He kissed their forehead, he let his lips linger on their skin, taking in their smell, and running his fingers through their hair one last time. He closed his eyes.
"Darling, there's a part of me, I'm afraid, will always be trapped in the abstract of this moment," he whispers, "all my love and terror balanced there between those eyes."
Astarion looks back out over the world. The sun begins to peek up from the horizon. He doesn't feel it on his skin yet, the coolness of the night still lingers. He sighs and stands, but his feet do not carry him back into the shelter of the house. He looks at the door. He does not want to go inside. He looks back at the sunrise and walks to the center of the balcony, just a few feet away from the railing. He stares into the golden and rust colored sky, set to burst with erupting color and birdsong. It is blinding. He feels it then, as the sun comes up fully over the treeline, his skin begins to burn, yet he does not want to go inside.
The pain quickly becomes unbearable, his plan falls apart, just as all his plans did. Someone will find them, one a corpse and the other a pile of ash. He falls to his knees and closes his eyes, but he let's the sun bathe him entirely. He is not afraid. He is not sad. Nor angry. He is happy. The pain starts to numb and darkness creeps into the corners as his vision fades. He holds his arms open and he lifts his chin defiantly, basking in the glow of the burning first light of the sun.
He feels a pair of cool hands on his cheeks. His eyes dart open, the pain is gone. Standing behind him and looking down at him is Tav, glowing and radiant and young.
"Oh, my star, you stayed." They said, their brow furrowed. Astarion reaches for them, his hand glowing and youthful.
"I could have done nothing else, my love. I'd be home with you."