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Consciousness clawed its way through Tav’s body, scraping against their fractured ribs, digging into the bruises that bloomed across their arms and legs like some twisted watercolor masterpiece. Tav groaned as they came to, eyes straining to make sense of their surroundings.
Wherever they were, it was in near-total darkness. And it reeked of putrefaction. The air was saturated with fetid moisture. It felt like a rotting cloth had been placed over their mouth and nose. Where in the sweet hells were they?
As other senses slowly came online, Tav realized they were lying on their side, curled into a fetal position. A manacle ensnared one ankle, the cold metal biting into their skin. The floor on which they were lying was made of coarse stone. The grit of it snagged against their skin and clothes.
A whimper from somewhere nearby refocused their attention.
In front of them, Tav could barely make out the ghostly pale form of Astarion, half-naked, hunched over his knees on the damp floor. His hands were shackled to a bolt fastened into the stone. His wrists were cut and bleeding from an obvious attempt to slip through the cuffs. He was bruised and battered across his abdomen. And his back.
Oh, his back .
Tav released an anguished cry as their eyes beheld Astarion’s back. The infernal script had been cut into anew. The lacerations wept openly, forming rivulets down his spine.
“Astarion–” Tav croaked, attempting to draw his attention.
A voice from further ahead interrupted them.
“Did you honestly believe you could ever escape me, boy ?” Cazador’s snakelike hiss reverberated throughout the cavernous dungeon.
At that voice, that hideous voice , Tav watched, helpless, as shivers wracked Astarion’s body. He began openly weeping, his head bowing over his shackled hands.
The bobbing light of a torch appeared through the gloom moments later, revealing the vile form of his former master. Cazador sauntered forward, closing in on Astarion. His gait was as casual as any nobleman enjoying a springtime promenade. Bile wrenched itself up through Tav’s throat, searing their esophagus along the way.
They watched as Cazador knelt before Astarion. He began petting his silver curls, tutting softly. It was a profane mimicry of comfort. Sobs only wracked Astarion’s body more violently.
The sight enraged Tav. Righteous anger surged through them. They smacked the floor, hard , with the edge of their fist, drawing Cazador’s attention.
“GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HIM,” Tav screamed, vocal cords straining. They lurched forward to grab at the horrible creature but were halted abruptly by the chain pulled taut against their ankle.
Cazador gave a mirthless laugh, rising to full height and acknowledging Tav for the first time.
“ You foolish child ,” he spat. “You dare presume to command me? Astarion is mine. Mine to punish. To destroy. To do with as I wish .”
“ NO. We destroyed you. You don’t own him anymore!” Tav cried, wrenching at the manacle once more.
Cazador threw his head back with a barking laugh. In the corner of their eye, Tav noted how the sound caused Astarion to shrink further into himself. The sight eviscerated their heart. To see their lover beaten down so low.
“I will always own him,” Cazador insisted. “My newest spellwork will see to that.”
With a snap of his fingers, the chains shackling Astarion’s wrists released from the bolt on the floor and flew into Cazador’s waiting hand. He jerked them violently, causing Astarion to lurch forward with a cry, barely catching himself from landing face first on the stones. Another tug, and Astarion was half-crawling, half-dragging behind Cazador as the slavemaster made his way back through the darkness of the dungeon.
“ NO! DON’T TAKE HIM! PLEASE! ” Tav screamed, eyes tracking Astarion’s form as he disappeared into the gloom. They kicked against the shackle, ripping their skin to shreds.
“ASTARION! ASTARION–”
The next thing they knew, strong arms were banding around their waist. Firm. Solid.
Tav’s eyes fluttered open, taking in their surroundings with a feral sort of awareness. Their heart hammered in their chest. Their lungs heaved with the effort to take in more air.
“Shhh, darling. It’s all right. It’s all right ,” Astarion’s low, melodic voice soothed in their ear. His chest was pressed against their back, spooning them. Tav felt his legs intertwine with theirs, drawing them even closer.
Tav clutched at his hands as their attention darted around the room. They were in their bedroom, in the bed they shared with Astarion. In their home in the Underdark.
There was the glow worm terrarium on their night stand. They had fashioned it as a sort of night light, even if it was always “night” here. It limned the room with a gentle bluish hue. And farther away, there was the dresser they both shared, hewn from driftwood Tav had collected above ground. Their collection of paintings - sunrises, mostly - hung scattered about the four walls. The woody smell of incense drifted to their nose, bringing a sense of comfort and familiarity.
They were home. Astarion was safe. He was here. They were safe. Astarion was safe .
But the mantra couldn’t stop the tears from spilling. The nightmare had felt so very real. It had attacked every one of their senses. They still felt like they could smell the rotten mugginess of the dungeon if they concentrated hard enough.
“I’m sorry,” Tav sobbed, turning their face into their pillow to muffle their crying. “I didn’t mean to– to–”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, my love,” Astarion whispered, clutching them tighter around the waist. “You were dreaming. It was just a dream,” he murmured, over and over again, kissing their shoulders and neck in between the words.
“I thought you’d been taken again – that… that he had taken you,” they keened, eyes clenched shut.
“Never, darling. He’s dead. Long gone. And I’m right here. Right here with you, ” Astarion affirmed. But Tav continued to cry. Heartbreaking sounds emanated from their muffled form.
“Here, turn over and face me,” he urged softly, unable to bear their anguish a moment longer.
Slowly, he moved Tav so that they were lying face to face in the bed, their noses nearly touching. Astarion lifted a hand to cradle their cheek. The other hand slipped over the dip of their waist. He began rubbing soothing circles against their back.
“See, darling? I’m right here,” he smiled gently, meeting their teary gaze.
Tav nodded mutely, eyes never leaving his. Slowly, they raised a hand to trace their fingers across his brow. Down the line of his nose. Over his cheekbones. Around his lips. Across his jaw. They watched as Astarion closed his eyes, soaking in their touch. He allowed them to continue their ministrations, doing what they needed to in order to feel assured.
“It was a dream,” Tav finally whispered after a few moments of tracing Astarion’s features. Their words sounded more like a question than a declaration.
“It was only a dream,” he swore seriously, moving his hand to cradle the back of their head. He planted a chaste kiss against their forehead.
Tav bowed their head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent of bergamot and clove.
“I love you,” they whispered faintly against his neck, feeling utterly spent from the emotional response the nightmare had created.
“I love you,” Astarion returned. He continued to rub their back, tracing idle circles against their nightshirt.
“Can you tell me a story?” Tav asked, breaking the comforting silence of the room.
“About what, darling?” Astarion replied.
“Anything. Tell me about the last book you read. Or the plans we’re developing for that commune, to rehome all the spawn.”
“Very well,” he agreed, kissing their forehead again. He began describing, in elaborate detail, every room of the commune they were working to build for all of Cazador’s formerly imprisoned spawn. He provided Tav a verbal tour of all of his plans, his ideas for each of the common spaces, his intended partnership with the Myconid colony to cultivate a community garden. On and on he went, pouring out every iota of his ideas – even the ones that were still half-formed imaginations.
His eloquent cadence slowly led Tav back into drowsiness. He listened as their breathing became slower, more even. Finally, sure that they were well and truly asleep once more, he quieted. He took in the peacefulness of their bedroom. Observed his partner sleeping in his arms once more.
It had been three years since Baldur’s Gate. The nightmares still came frequently for both of them. Most of the time, it was he who woke in the middle of the night, needing comfort and assurances from Tav. Other times, like tonight, it was Tav. Astarion wasn’t sure either of their mental scars would ever truly disappear, no matter how long time marched on.
But the life they had carved out for themselves was a beautiful one. Full of life . Full of love . And full of belonging.
Try as they might, that was something the nightmares would never, ever , take from them.