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Everything had happened in a flash. The battle on the ground floor of Moonrise Towers seemed to its survivors like a fire built on dry birchwood-- raging, white-hot, and quick to burn itself out in its fury. One moment, they were all fighting for their lives against Z'rell and her underlings, and the next, everything was as still as the corpses at their feet.
It was all a blur to Astarion. At some point, though, his lover crossed the storm of fire, blood, and steel, to find him in the shadows. With the softest of kisses to the rogue's forehead, Tavish had told him to stay with the others. And before Astarion could protest, the paladin had slipped away to follow Thorm to the roof.
And Astarion thought he was the agile one.
It was easy enough not to worry in combat. Even if Astarion weren't a master of compartmentalization, slashing cultists' throats and firing arrows from behind his favorite tiefling-shaped living shield required his full attention. Stray thoughts and feelings led to stray daggers and arrows, after all. Even if Karlach likely wouldn't notice a bit of friendly fire in the literal heat of the moment, Astarion would (admittedly) rather not contribute to the blows their dear barbarian already took.
But now, as they all stood in the dying embers of battle, Astarion was left with nothing else to do. Tavish, along with his three worst enablers, had gone to face Ketheric Thorm. That alone was cause for concern, but Jaheira's latest update about the four of them jumping down an illithid tunnel into a bloody mindflayer colony was cause for despair.
Part of him believed the paladin was dead. And... well. The others too, he supposed. They weren't as important, though. Not compared to that beautiful, foolish, half-mad half-elf who had stirred Astarion's long-dead heart into fluttering like a lovestruck schoolboy whenever he smiled. That bleeding heart idiot who should have, by all accounts, earned the vampire’s bitterest scorn instead of his warmest affection. Gorgeous, silly, honest Tav, who mourned every slain goblin and shadow-twisted wraith.
No. The other three--frankly, everyone there--could rot if it meant that sweet man were spared.
The rest of him believed Tav was fine. Not just alive, but fine, miraculously unhurt throughout this whole ordeal. Astarion refused to call it "hope". It was less childish optimism than it was a means of survival, a pointed refusal to live in a world in which he was proven wrong. He believed Tav was fine because he had to.
He had to silence the nagging thoughts that perhaps the knight would do something characteristically stupid and sacrifice himself for the good of the others. The good of Baldur's Gate, Faerun, or even just fucking Gale. He took those thoughts by the throat and squeezed, killed each rising concern with the same practiced ease that he killed those Absolutists mere minutes before. Astarion drew from his endless well of petulance to ignore the possibility for as long as he could. Tav was alive, until or unless it was proven otherwise.
Many had lost their lives, but so far nobody that meant anything at all to Astarion. Lae'zel, ever the bad patient, was reluctantly allowing dear Shadowheart to tend to her wounds. The former Sharran had insisted, saying that it was the least she could do after sitting out the whole fight. She didn't like to feel useless, she said, but she still laughed when Astarion remarked that he wished he had been able to join her on the bench. Lae'zel called it a strategic move, as the not-quite-cleric was a terrible fighter and entirely useless without magic. It sounded almost like reassurance, coming from the githyanki.
Karlach was a bit worse for wear, but in high spirits, laughing with some Harper girl while she rode out the adrenaline rush of battle. To Astarion's surprise, she was the first to notice his inner turmoil. Perhaps the mask was slipping from exhaustion, or perhaps he was losing his touch. Or perhaps Karlach understood him better than she let on.
The tiefling gave him the gentlest shove she was capable of, a gesture seeping with friendliness that had Astarion bristling like a frightened cat despite himself. She smiled at him with that summer-warm smile of hers until it well and truly melted away his defenses. "They'll be back soon, mate," she said, and when Karlach said something so earnestly, it made one want to believe it along with her.
Wyll's voice caught his attention. "Careful... Mind the corner, there."
"Here," said another, sped up and flustered by nerves when it was usually eloquent, measured. Gale. "I can't do much, as I am right now. But I can hold a door."
"Nonsense, my friend," they heard Wyll say. "You've done enough today already. Daresay, more than I."
Astarion tuned out the sound of those two verbally stroking each other off in favor of listening for the one voice he truly wanted to hear. Instead, he heard Halsin murmur something, low and soothing, before Jaheira cleared the gathering crowd with a single command.
Three men walked into the room. First, Gale, shuffling awkwardly ahead of the others, visibly winded but otherwise unharmed. Then Wyll, clutching his side with one hand and holding the other up to stop Karlach and Lae'zel when they ran to Halsin in a worried fit.
Halsin, holding the limp body of their paladin.
Astarion hadn't a need for breath in two centuries, and yet he felt like he was suffocating.
He had frozen like a frightened deer when the others returned, stuck in place where he was sat beside Shadowheart. Without Lae'zel between them, she would have been able to touch him, but wisely, she did not. Instead, she balled her delicate hands into fists and drew a short, pained breath past pursed lips.
"Well," she said quietly, just for Astarion. Forcing herself to maintain her usual air of haughty indifference despite the fear in her eyes. "I suppose as long as we have Withers, we don't have to worry."
But of course, even then, something could always go wrong. They both knew that. It was the one constant in all of their fucked up lives of late, wasn't it? Things never went as planned. Withers was a welcome safety net, but none of them understood his motives or limits. What if, for whatever reason, he decided to say no? What if he exhausted his abilities? What would he do if they were ever in want of coin? Was there a time limit? These things were always a godsdamned mystery with that glorified raisin.
But Halsin's voice tore the vampire from his thoughts. "Give him space," said the archdruid, his deep, gentle voice tinged with something feral, protective. "He's injured."
Injured.
Astarion let out a shaky, high-pitched little laugh. Injured. Injured meant alive. The feeling returned in his limbs, and he rose to join the others, his body moving of its own accord until he was at Halsin's side.
The archdruid now sat on the steps leading to Thorm's throne, using his massive form to cushion the wounded paladin in his arms. Astarion appreciated the way that Halsin held his lover, appropriately, like something precious. He once again found himself wondering if there was something deeper to their relationship, but... Now wasn't the time to bring it up.
"Astarion," sighed Gale, looking equal parts relieved and defeated. "You're here. Good. Perhaps you can talk some sense into him..."
"He is refusing aid," Lae'zel all but growled. She clutched a healing potion in one fist, hissing something undoubtedly harsh in her native tongue when her efforts to force feed it to Tav failed with a swift turn of his head.
"Someone could need that later," croaked the injured man, wincing at the effort it had taken to dodge the potion.
"Shka'keth! You need it now!"
"Easy, Lae'zel," soothed Wyll, holding up a pacifying hand that the gith warrior swatted away with an annoyed scowl. The Blade, ever patient, continued without reacting, "He's badly hurt. No need to choke him on potions or break his teeth on glass."
"Astarion," Lae'zel barked, thrusting the potion into his hand. Her frustration was laced with anxiety, lashing out to hide it like a scared dog. "Make this she'lak see reason!"
Astarion's voice sounded small, too wretched to his own ears. "Now, my dear," he replied with a shaky little laugh, "when have I ever been any good at that?"
Tav stirred with a groan at the sound of his voice, mismatched eyes opening a crack to seek him out. "Star?"
"Yes," the vampire swallowed. "Yes, I'm here, love. How do you feel? And I swear on everything, if you say 'fine', I'll finish you off myself."
The paladin let out the weakest of laughs, but even that was enough to have him leaning heavily against Halsin with a pained shudder. "Ribs're broken, for one. At least a few."
The thick steel of his breastplate was dented in several places, and the chain that guarded his abdomen was sliced through, ragged metal cutting through the shirt beneath and into his skin. Astarion could smell his blood, rich and sweet like port wine, seeping through his wounds. Normally, he would want to lap it up, but... Now, all he could do was wince at the sight of it.
"What happened to you?" the rogue all but whispered.
"Would you believe he called Myrkhul on us?"
Astarion's eyes widened. "You fought MYRKHUL? Alone?"
"Hardly alone," Halsin corrected.
"And hardly Myrkhul... Just his avatar. Nothing we couldn't handle, clearly. He...did something, though. Couldn't heal, couldn't be healed.... I...." Tav grit his teeth, tears forming in his eyes when he inevitably lost the battle and his body shook with painful coughs. He all but sobbed against Halsin's chest as blood threatened to spill from his lips, and when his battered hand helplessly sought his lover’s, Astarion supplied it instantly. Halsin frowned and murmured a healing word, barely enough to stop the bleeding. But it was enough, thankfully, and the paladin sighed in relief.
"Thank you, Hal," Tav managed. The familiar nickname didn't go unnoticed by Astarion, but he said nothing. "To be honest, dove, I was... scared. You know I rarely doubt our strength, when we all fight together..."
"Like an idiot," said Astarion. "Yes. I can hardly stand it."
Tav smiled faintly, but ignored the remark. "It... it was different, this time. I couldn't heal... I nearly died, but worse than that, I realized others could've died. I've not felt so helpless, so... cut off from my forbears, from the Crying Lord... since before I took my oath. Not even since the tadpole..."
"You've been bone-chilled before," Astarion corrected, brushing a stray white hair from his lover’s face.
"This was different. I could at least heal others then. I... I was useless."
"You sell yourself short, dear one," Halsin soothed. "You threw yourself to the mercy of an evil god to protect us. You drew his ire away from Gale and Wyll, and that alone was what brought us to victory."
Astarion frowned. "I'm sorry. He what?"
"I have a shield," Tav pointed out. "Or. Had. I... need a new one. Bloody thing splintered..."
"Your bravery was commendable," praised Halsin, lightly stroking his hair.
"It was idiotic, that's what it was!" Astarion hissed his displeasure, lightly shoving the paladin.
Tav cried out. "Ow! What was that for?"
"What were you thinking? You stupid, stupid man!" He swatted him lightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to get a point across. "And here I was, pitying you! I was ready to tenderly nurse you back to health!"
"Oh? Then you won't?" If the paladin had the strength to, he would certainly be pouting.
"How could I, when you won't even take a healing potion?"
Tav closed his eyes with a soft huff. "No need to waste supplies...I can sleep it off. Besides... We have Halsin."
"Then by all means, let Halsin take care of you! He did a great job earlier, clearly!" Astarion punctuated this with an accusatory gesture in Halsin's direction.
The druid seemed much smaller after hearing this, shrinking in on himself and looking away like a kicked dog. Astarion instantly felt guilty, but not enough to apologize. He had allowed this, after all. So did the other two. They were entrusted with the sacred task of keeping Astarion's lover safe, and they returned him bloody and broken. They should all feel the weight of their failure to protect that sweet, stupid man in the way that he sought to protect them all.
"Star," breathed Tav. "My little love.... Look at me."
Astarion hadn't realized he was looking away. But the moment his eyes met his lover’s, it was all the vampire could do to stop himself from weeping. "You self-righteous fool... How could you?" How could you act so selfishly? How could you be so quick to leave me, now that I've only just found you?
"I'm sorry," Tav murmured. He used what remained of his strength to reach out and touch Astarion's cheek. "For...scaring you."
Astarion caught the hand and held it in place with a trembling hand. "What would I have done, hm? If I'd lost you?"
"Owe Withers some gold, I'd imagine," the paladin tried to joke.
"Shut up," snapped Astarion. "I hate you."
"I love you."
"If that's true, drink a potion for me."
"I..." Tav winced. "Not sure if I can manage. Not yet, anyway... Sorry, love."
"Oh? Poor sweet thing," cooed Astarion, stroking his hair lightly. He uncorked the potion handed to him by Lae'zel and poured the contents into his own mouth, then fed it to his lover through a kiss, propping him up carefully with Halsin's help. Tav swallowed the cool liquid slowly, sighing with relief against his love's soft lips. "Better?"
"Much," sighed the paladin. "Thank you..."
"Of course, darling." The part of him that was angry with Tav for his reckless behavior had gradually been subdued by the part that was just glad to see the man in one piece. Now that his annoyance was fading, it was easy to fuss over his sweet, foolish hero, and very tempting to kiss him stupid (or in Tav's case, stupider) as a reward for once more saving the day. He kissed along the freckles that covered the paladin's nose, up and down the faded scar that divided his beautiful face. "How do you feel now?"
"Mm..." Tav closed his eyes in thought. "Well... I don't recall taking any blows to the head.... But I must be concussed, since my vision is full of stars."
"Was that your attempt at a joke?" The vampire scoffed affectionately. "You're lucky you're so handsome, dear."
"Not my best work, I'll admit." Tav was too sore to laugh, so he just smiled. "Stay with me tonight, won't you?"
"As if I could leave your side after that little stunt you pulled. Honestly..." Astarion gently pet the side of his bruised face with the back of his hand, the coolness of his skin soothing the injured flesh like a wet rag.
"I love you," Tav murmured, dozing off. "You don't have to say it back."
"I know, dear."
Astarion waited until that night, when Tav was resting in the vampire’s own tent, Halsin trancing just outside like a faithful watchdog, to whisper it into the paladin's sleeping ear with a soft kiss.