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It was an all too familiar feeling, rising deep within Tav's chest. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't fall into a trance; they felt like they were being cornered, like a feral animal trapped in a dark cellar, and simply closing their eyes was a risk they could not take. It made no sense, but it never did in the past so, why would it start now? It was a problem not even the tadpole could eat away at. Logically, they were aware they were relatively safe in the Elfsong Tavern, surrounded by trusted companions that would lay their lives down to protect them from the threat they feared the most. Yet, their heart raced and they felt their stomach churn as they laid in bed. With a groan and defeated sigh, they sat up and glanced at the fire that continued to rage in the heart of the large room. Sometimes, they fantasized about plucking their own memories out and burning them in there, amongst their friends. As their feet met the wooden floor, they looked at those friends who slept or meditated around them; before this journey, they may have been uncomfortable with the idea of sleeping around so many people but it provided a strange sense of security now, after being woken up by unwanted visitors in camp far too many times. Waking up to Kith'rak Voss glowering over them was hardly the most pleasant experience.
Luckily, even as panic set in, Tav's natural elven grace allowed them to sneak out of the room with an impressive quickness, quietly enough to not wake anyone. They were far less graceful, however, trying to find a place to throw up. As soon as the double doors clicked close, they scrambled around the hallway to find a potted plant, a trash bin, anything that could stop them from hurling their dinner all over the floor. A twinge of pain shot up their legs as their knees hit the floor, hands grasping the wooden bucket that functioned as a trash bin at the end of the hallway as their body seized and their throat burned from bile. Their body hurt and their ears burned from…humiliation? Yes, a buried shame that resurfaced every time this happened. They had thwarted devils, defied gods, and still woke up the next day to do it all again, but now? Now, they felt weak, violated, and exposed despite how alone they were. That person, that monster, their attacker, was not even here and posed no immediate threat. Why then? Why did they still shake and shiver, why did they still feel they were being hunted? Why did it feel like the walls, floors, and furniture all had eyes that pierced through them with an unsettling mix of disgust and hunger?
Perhaps it was the fact Lae'zel was taken, a sick reminder of the fear of losing one's autonomy that hung over the elf's head (even though Tav was also quite sure the Githyanki fighter could break the Bhaalists in two, if given the opportunity). Or maybe it was a fear of Orin herself, who had toyed with Tav's newfound trust in others with her horrifying combination of malice, instability and shape changing powers. Regardless of the catalyst, they now had to deal with the aftermath, staring down at the mess before them. They broke down, tears streaming down their face as they let their back hit the wall behind them and their legs stretched out across the floor.
'I probably look as pathetic as I feel,' they thought to themself, with a strange combination of self-loathing and mirthless humor. These weird episodes always left them feeling conflicted, desiring nothing more than a hug but also wanting to bury themself in a pit, hidden away from all others. Tonight, fate decided for them, as another elf slipped out of the doorway with an almost unnaturally stealthy grace. Tav's inner turmoil was interrupted by his smooth, slightly teasing voice, one that they had grown quite fond of.
"Thought you could sneak away? You should've known I'd find you, I'm far better at sneaking than you." If it had been anyone other than Astarion, Tav may have truly, honestly screamed at the thought of someone catching them in this moment, but his presence merely provoked a jump and gasp from the elf on the floor. Their eyes widened, still filled with tears as they tried to sit up and wipe their mouth with the back of their hand. The man at the other end of the hallway looked…softer with his hair only slightly tousled from his trance and his eyes lacking their usual, predatory mask. Tav always wondered how he got his hair to lay so perfectly in the morning with no reflection, but now was hardly the time for that question. He approached them and added, with a small shrug and smirk, "Also I can hear your heart racing, but I think it has more to do with my impressive, roguish talents."
That pulled a sad, broken chuckle from Tav and the vampire showed a rare, sincere smile that displayed his pretty fangs. Tav's companions may have disagreed on that sentiment, but Tav didn't care; to them, every part of him was perfect. They went to stand, but were a little surprised as he sat down with them and gently pulled them back down to the floor. For a moment, they both sat there with a heavy sense of understanding that somehow both liberated and imprisoned them. After Astarion's confession in the Shadowlands, Tav was inspired by his vulnerability and spilled their own guts about their experience. Their stories were vastly different but that moment created an unbreakable bond between the two. They didn’t tell each other everything , neither of them were ready for that, but it was a start. Unsurprisingly, Astarion's first instinct was to inquire on the possibility of securing revenge for them as well. He seemed a tad disappointed when they said that it was already taken care of and a tiny part of them felt overjoyed by his protective, yet non-possessive nature.
The lack of sexual intimacy lifted a weight off both their shoulders, but it certainly didn't stop the two from flirting and showing affection as a couple; it was perhaps what Tav enjoyed most about this stage of their relationship, the thrill and feeling of being desired without the pressure of what comes next. It was fun, it was healing, and it made the fear of day-to-day life manageable. The couple’s companions may have groaned and complained about it, but Astarion and Tav found that quite amusing as well. Tav breaks the silence first, voice still hoarse.
"I…uh, I'm sorry, this probably is grossing you out, huh?" They tried to wipe their face more to make sure they were really clean and soothe the embarrassment that was bubbling inside as the beautiful man stared at them for a moment. Then, he let out a quick, dry laugh that cut through the thick tension in the air. With a flourish, he offered a handkerchief from his pocket that featured an elegantly embroidered 'A' on the corner. Of course he embroidered his handkerchief.
"Darling," he started, voice low and comforting, "with everything I've seen, it would take much more to deter me. I'm afraid you're quite stuck with me now." Even though the reminder of his past caused their heart to ache briefly, they still smiled as he tried to console them. A sniffle escaped as they took the white cloth and diligently wiped their face; sighing, they were relieved to see there wasn't as much spit on their face as they expected. The smile on their face had faded by now and their eyebrows were furrowed as they got lost in thought again. It scared them to ask questions, to delve deeper in this wound, but Astarion was likely the only one to understand. The only one to answer them honestly, without pity or trying to guess at what they are feeling. They focused on him again and softly asked,
"Astarion?"
"Yes, my dear?" He responded, his voice lilting slightly. Tav continued,
"Do you ever feel…scared without a reason?" They quickly realized how stupid that sounded, given the whole Illithid-plan-to-take-over-the-world thing that threatened every plane of existence at all times, so they corrected themself. "Well, I know we have more reason to fear than most but," they paused, trying to find the words and Astarion simply gave them a nod of encouragement, "it's like…it feels like it's coming from inside . Like my own skin is…wrong. Does--does that make any sense?" They sounded a little breathless at the end, almost in disbelief at their own words as the tension finally loosened in their face. For years–decades–they had carried this burden and always felt like they were going crazy; the general fear that swelled inside them gave way to a fear of telling others, a fear of how they would react to the feelings of insanity that brewed in Tav’s mind. Yet, Astarion’s eyes neither melted into pity nor cut them with disgust. Instead, they saw him listening deeply with a melancholic expression on his face and he looked at them with a peculiar sense of camaraderie. No, he was not simply looking at them, he was seeing them. It made Tav never want to look away.
“Of course that makes sense.” He answered calmly while reaching out for Tav’s hand, having discovered early-on in their relationship that their warmth compared to his unnaturally cool body was a fabulously effective grounding tool. His own light, almost completely white, eyebrows were furrowed together and he briefly closed his eyes to fight the instinctual desire to bury whatever feelings this conversation was digging up. He wanted to be vulnerable with them, he wanted to show how much it meant to him to finally have someone who understood. So he fought himself and cleaved the words he wanted to say from his cold, dead heart. His eyes opened and with a quiet voice, he explained, “Cazador is dead , I know that. I felt it with my own hands. And you were there, there to help through it all. It was all what I wanted, after so long. I…I expected the fear to be gone,” his voice broke for a moment and he coughed to try to cover it, “But…it isn’t. I feel… hands on me still, using me or…trusting me.” Silver hair flashed in the candlelight as he shook his head for a moment, like he was briefly trying to escape his own mind. Meanwhile, Tav felt like a dagger was driven into their heart, reeling from the complexity of his trauma. He was doomed forever to an un-life as both prey and predator, as both victim and perpetrator–well, doomed until recently, that is. Eat fireball, Cazador. Tav squeezed his hand gently, letting their thumb trace over his knuckles.
“I always assumed I was going crazy, if I’m being honest with you.” A smile that didn't fully reach their eyes flashed for a moment as they confessed, inviting Astarion even further into their heart. He returned the smile, letting it linger on his face before tilting his head and letting out a hum of thought,
“Well, we’re both probably crazy but for entirely different reasons.” He teased them again, feeling a swell of pride as he made them chuckle once more. Although, he was careful to add, “Truthfully? I would think you were crazier if you didn’t have a breakdown once in a while. Not exactly something you can just…shake off.” With a sigh, he let his free hand come up to move a strand of hair falling in Tav’s face. They leaned into his shoulder, also humming in thought as they processed his words. It was an interesting perspective, one they had not considered before; they had spent so long in a cycle of self-loathing, it was difficult to imagine themself from an outside perspective. They considered it and knew if it was Astarion who came to them, they wouldn’t even dream of calling him crazy; perhaps they should not be so quick to condemn themself. Gods, being with Astarion felt so right, like they had been reunited with a part of themself they had lost long ago. With a deep exhale of relief, Tav snuggled into Astarion’s shoulder further.
“I love you, Astarion.”
“And I love you too. But I do not love the feeling of my arse on this wooden floor, so can we please move?”
“You came down here with me!” Tav protested, looking up at him with faux outrage.
“Yes, yes, I was trying to be sweet but this is awful!” He swiftly stood up, extending his hand out to Tav. Their legs were still shaky, so they took it gratefully. When they were up again, they glanced down at the bucket by their feet with a sneer.
“I should probably clean that up, right?” They asked, though they immediately knew they asked the wrong person as he scoffed.
“Tsk . Why? That is what the help is for, my dear.” After all the vulnerability, he could still put on that haughty voice that always either made Tav laugh or mildly irritated their people-pleasing sensibilities. This time? It did both.
“Astarion! ” They admonished him, but only gently. They knew it was the right thing to do but didn’t particularly want to spend their night cleaning out vomit from a bucket either. He really was a bad influence.
“What?” He asked, his voice raising an octave like it always did when Tav took a reprimanding tone with him, “It’s what they’re paid for. Besides, you should get freshened up now, I want to take you somewhere before the others wake up.” That certainly caught Tav’s attention and they tilted their head to the side.
“Where are we going?”
“Want me to tell you and ruin the surprise? Certainly not. Just be a good pet, meet me downstairs when you are ready and trust me .” He said the last line with a devious mirth that always made them blush, even if they tried to hide it from his smug glance. The hold on sexual intimacy never stopped him from using that tone to either get what he wanted or just tease them. They felt their cheeks and the pointed tips of their ears burn, which he must’ve noticed since his smirk widened impossibly further. With a speedy kiss on the cheek, he left them in the hallway, moving past the doors to the room and down the stairs. He was infuriating, arrogant, and utterly ridiculous. And he was there for them when no one else could be. He was a paradox, a force of pure chaos thrown into Tav’s already messy life. It should’ve scared them, how deeply they were intertwined now. Yet, as they opened the doors and felt a giddy excitement replace the fear that plagued them, they realized they wouldn’t want it any other way.