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Hemlock sat on the shore, looking over the lake as moonlight danced upon the surface of the water. He had been doing this every night since they set up camp here. He had just been thinking quietly every night. He thought about his life before the tadpole, before the nautiloid. He thought about his wife and his daughter. It had been four and a half years since he lost them. Every time he closed his eyes he saw their faces and regret filled his chest as if it would rise into his throat to choke him to death. Recently, however, something else was starting to occupy his mind. Something new. Something terrifying. Something with silky white hair and fangs that could pierce skin with ease.
Astarion had undoubtedly come as a shock to Hemlock’s life and everything he thought he knew about himself. The two had a bit of a ‘nighttime dalliance’ after the Tieflings’ party. The memory had been eating away at the half-elf’s mind since that night, more than an illithid parasite ever could. Astarion had also been showering the man with pet names for days. ‘My love’, ‘Darling’, ‘Beautiful’. It was horrifying. He didn’t dislike it, he didn’t want it to stop. He didn’t want to forget everything and act like nothing happened. He was starting to like the vampire and it was the most confusing thing in the world. Hemlock gripped his hair in his fists, wishing he could scream until all of these uncertain feelings went away. It was clear to him that Astarion didn’t harbor any similar feelings. It was clear that he was just trying to have some fun in stressful times. The thought nearly shattered Hemlock’s heart.
“You’re brooding.” Hemlock flinched as the quiet of the night was interrupted by an all-too-familiar voice. He turned around to see the elf standing behind him, ghastly pale beneath the moon. He seemed to notice the warlock’s glassy eyes. “Something the matter, my love?” he sat down close to the man, his blood-red eyes wider than usual. Expectant.
“I was just… reminiscing.” Hemlock replied distantly.
“About our night together? Apologies if it wasn’t to your liking.. I-”
“No, Astarion. It was lovely… I’ve just been thinking about my family quite a bit these days.” Astarion’s eyes further widened into a look of surprise and remorse… perhaps even a hint of dejection.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had a family before we slept together? I don’t appreciate being a side piece on your journey of self-discovery!” He sounded sad and angry.
“They’re dead. They’ve been dead for a long time.”
“ Oh. ” The elf’s voice softened. “May I ask what happened?” Hemlock nodded.
“Elora and I were only nineteen when Yoe was born, our daughter. We struggled. We had nothing. We could barely feed ourselves. I needed something to cling to. I found my patron. She promised me power, magic, opportunities if I did her bidding. Assassinations and the like. There was one day when she asked me to go too far. She asked me to take down a family . I couldn’t ask why and i couldn’t bring myself to do it. As punishment she uh…” He trailed off. Astarion didn’t need to hear the rest of the sentence to know how the story ended. “It was nearly five years ago. Yoe was only six.” A tear rolled down Hemlock’s face. He didn’t cry often. He felt embarrassed being so vulnerable in front of the vampire, but much to his surprise, Astarion pulled him into a hug and pressed a light kiss to his temple. Hemlock hugged him back, embracing the coldness of the other man’s body. “Astarion..” he whispered, almost inaudibly.
“Yes, dear?”
“Our time together… what did it mean to you?”
“Well,” Astarion pulled away and looked at Hemlock. “I didn’t think it meant anything at the time, honestly. But now… now I think about you ceaselessly.” The warlock wanted to tease him, but he knew that this was the most vulnerable Astarion has probably been in two centuries. “You’re special because you actually seem to- care about me.” He took Hemlock’s hand and stared at it.
“I do care for you. You are incredible, Astarion.” Hemlock could feel his walls coming down, he could feel the mysterious persona he always put up stripping away, piece by piece. “I want you to know- and believe- that.”
“I didn’t know you were such a romantic, warlock .” Astarion grinned, his fangs highlighted by the moon.
“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.” He laced his fingers between the long, pale ones of the other man’s. “But, I’ve never-“
“You’ve never been with a man before?”
“How did you…”
“I’ve had this conversation hundreds of times, my love.” A cold hand touched Hemlock’s cheek. “Don’t worry darling, I won’t make you do anything you’re not ready for.”
“You’re kinder than you let people think.” The half elf teased, inching closer to Astarion’s face.
“I think I’d have to say the same about you.” They caught each other in a kiss. It was gentle and sweet. There was an uncertainty to it, this was new territory for both men, in their own ways. They both knew, however, that it was exactly what they wanted.