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Moon washes the meadow in silver light. As he sits by the campfire, Astarion's skin looks almost marble to you: white and perfect. You glance at him from time to time to detect a hint of disturbance, that his mind has dragged him to some unpleasant place.
But it seems like he is at peace with himself.
His pointy ears twitch a bit when invisible facial muscles move. They’re probably your favorite part of his body: long and sensitive, with a delightful pinkish hue. The elves, Tel’Quessira, have the most amazing ears.
But you suddenly realize you’ve never touched them. You often massage his scalp and have kissed almost every inch of his body, but the ears remain untouched.
The scars and the bite mark? It took months for him to relax enough to let his guard down. You still remember him muttering “Tav loves me, Tav won’t hurt me” while you were caressing his back. You pretended you didn’t hear that. As for the more intimate parts of his body, you two agreed on an “ask before putting a hand into the trousers”.
But his ears… You are a non-elf, a lesser being in the eyes of elves, and know nothing about them. But you remember how many years ago someone told you “Never touch their pointy ears, they hate it”.
“Astarion.”
Silence.
“Astarion, are you with me?”
Silence yet again. He looks somewhere into the woods, mentally far away from your small camp. Suddenly, his eyes squint and you see anxiety on his face.
Nine hells, again.
It happens to him often. He just sits motionless as if someone has cast a “hold a person” spell on him. He can stay like that for hours oblivious to the world around him. As if his mind shuts itself down. Sometimes he returns, surprised it’s already sunset “I thought it was still morning”, he says.
He describes it as a dark wave that just pulls him under into the nightmare, and he can’t do anything, only to keep drowning.
You approach Astarion and sit behind him. Then you touch his curls, slowly brushing them with your finger.
“I am here. I am not going anywhere,” you whisper. “Return to me, please.”
No response.
You keep caressing his head, intensifying your touches as you try to return him to reality.
And then your fingers accidently brush along his left ear.
Astarion flinches, forcing you to take your hands away.
“I am sorry,” you mutter.
Astarion covers his ear with his palm and stares at you in shock. He looks like a person who has been woken up in the middle of the night in some weird and violent way.
“Did I hurt you? I am so sorry!”
“No… you didn’t…” He still looks startled. “I just… Seldarine… How long have I been like that?”
“Since sunset. It’s almost the middle of the night.”
He snatches his shirt from the ground and puts it on. You still feel guilty.
“Sorry… I won’t touch your ears again.”
“Darling, you’ve touched me in much more intimate places and done much more lewd things to my body than this.”
You blush.
“It’s just… unexpected.”
“I am sorry.”
“Stop it! I hate it when you apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just… Fuck it. I want to take a walk.”
You nod. “Take a walk” means “I want to wander the woods on my own''. Sometimes he hunts small animals and drains them dry. More often he just walks enjoying the freedom of being in nature. Even a person who loves cities would go insane, forced to spend 200 years within its walls.
You are still embarrassed by your actions, so you return to the tent. You are feeling sleepy and doze off on your bedroll hugging a pillow.
You wake up a few hours later when Astarion returns to the tent. His shirt is bloodstained and his trousers are dirty, but he looks happy.
“Good morning, darling”, he kisses you. “It’s sunrise, time for the mortals.”
“Unless they travel with vampires,” you mumble as you sit up, feeling more or less rested. “I see you are in a good mood.”
“I am always in a good mood when I see your face, my dear.”
You scoot over, making more room for him. The tent is small but enchanted with darkness which fully protects Astarion from the sunlight. You would love to spend a couple of days in the inn, but the nearest town has no such place and you have to stay at the camp.
“Listen… about what happened…” He stumbles over his words. “Could you touch my ears?”
You giggle and invite him to sit between your legs. He presses his back against your chest and you wrap your arms around his body.
“You have leaves in your hair,” you say, brushing his curls with your fingers before kissing the crown of his head. “How sensitive are your ears?”
“Very sensitive, he admits. “That’s why… I… we… don’t like unwelcome touches.”
You carefully touch the tip of his left ear, then move your finger along the edge of the shell.
He closes his eyes and smiles.
You get braver and use your other hand to caress his right ear. You lean forward and kiss the tips, and as you do you feel an electric impulse coarse through Astarion's body.
“Why don’t you wear any adornments? You like rings and necklaces, but all the elves I have ever seen wear something on their ears. I mean, I understand why Tel’Quessir don’t pierce them…”
“Darling, never suggest to pierce the ears of the elf, it’s fucking painful.”
“But are there other ways? Without damaging the skin?”
He shrugs. “Never found anything proper I guess.”
He softly touches your finger and you understand he’s signaling you to stop. You press Astarion tighter.
You sit like that for a while in silence before you make yourself return to reality.
“I need to go to the town to see if they have some job for us.”
“I doubt it. We’d better return to the road at sunset,"he said.
“Yeah, this place is unbelievably peaceful.”
“I would say boring”, he takes out a book from his sack and you recognize Gnim, the language of the gnomes. Noticing your stare, he chuckles. “I prefer to know the enemy.”
You kiss Astarion’s cheek and leave the tent.
The town looks sleepy as if its residents exist in some weird world without troubles and worries. The townsfolk look at you with suspicion. Adventurers are rarely guests since there's almost nothing to do.
You ask here and there about a job, but as Astarion said there is nothing to be found. No troubles. No dangers. No reward.
Suddenly something catches your eye: a small building different in style from the rest of the houses. It is more elegant, with intricate runes on the wooden door.
Elven.
You enter carefully, opening the door as if you are afraid you may break it,
It’s a jewelry store.
There are dozens of rings, necklaces, and bracelets. They are simple and delicate, but you just can’t take your eyes off them.
“Do you want anything?” A golden-haired elven woman waves her hand over the adornments. “Maybe for yourself?”
You shake your head. “I wouldn’t want to wear such things on the road. I will either break them or lose them.”
“Pity. Maybe for someone you care about?”
Astarion would love something like that. No matter what happened to him, he is still an elf. Nothing will ever change it.
“Yes…” You say with some hesitation. “What do elves put on their ears?”
The woman smiles. “We wear ear cuffs. Like these”, she points at her own ear, showing a golden adornment that looks like flowers. “You want a gift for an elf, don’t you?”
You nod.
“Can I ask what kind of bond you share?”
You blush a bit and the elf smiles again. “It’s not an idle question. Elven culture is very complicated”.
“He is my… love.”
She points at the ear cuffs. “Then, this. Only lovers can give such things to each other. Received from a friend or, worse, a stranger, would be considered an insult.”
“Why so?”
“Oh, poor N'Tel'Quess. So bad of him not to tell you such important things.”
You pretend not to understand that the word she’s used is an insult. You speak some Elven.
“And how important is that?”
“Have you wondered why elves don’t like their ears being touched?”
“Because it hurts?”
Her laughter sounds like bells chiming. “The same way lovemaking hurts when nonconsensual.”
Fuck.
“It’s intimate. Even lovers sometimes don’t do it because they don’t fully trust each other. We allow this only to our aestara, our thiramina. For us, it’s a form of sex. But even regular sex might be less intimate. So, tell me, does he allow you to do that?”
“He did let me do this… today. For the first time. ”
“Then, give him an ear cuff. Choose.”
They all look equally beautiful and you try to picture Astarion wearing them but nothing is quite him. There are smaller and larger ones, golden and silver. Some resemble flowers, and some are more like stars.
Noticing your confusion, the shopkeeper sighs.
“Tell me about him.”
“He… is very kind. To me, at least. Very brave, but never admits it even to himself. He is smart, can learn a whole new language within a week, and can persuade people to do anything he needs. He can do a lot of things with his hands – embroidery, lock picking, you name it. But… he’s been through a lot. His past is very dark and he is still overcoming it, learning how to be with people, how to live this life.”
You carefully avoid details, trying to sound as vague as possible.
“It’s called srinna. The one who tests limits and establishes new boundaries.”
“Yes, it does sound like him”
The woman hands you a metallic ear cuff. It is simpler than the others but you notice small details like crescents and birds. It will look nice with his curls, you think.
You pay and as you leave the elf laughs again. “If I were you, I would scold him!”
You return to the camp at sunset. Astarion is still inside the tent engrossed in the book. He hasn’t been through too many pages. Gnim is difficult for someone who can’t stand its speakers.
Astarion smiles joyfully as he notices you. He always looks like this when you return. Pure happiness.
“So was I right about these peaceful people?”
“Yes. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why didn’t I tell you what?”
“About your ears! The elven jeweler gave me a lecture about them! You could have at least explained this to me before I embarrassed myself!”
He disarms you with his puppy eyes. They say: ‘Oh, darling, you can’t be really angry with me, can you?’
“Stop making that face. You know I can’t resist it!”
Astarion sighs. “My apologies. Never really took it into account. But yes, touching ears is a form of showing affection.”
You take out the ear cuff and hold it out to him “I’ve brought a gift for you.”
Astarion puts the book away and takes the cuff. He is silent and you are afraid he doesn’t like it.
“Srinna”, he says. “The one who establishes boundaries. Thank you”, Astarion doesn’t try to laugh it away or mask his emotions. His smile is goofy and sincere; he rarely shows it even to you.
“Put it on!” you encourage him. “I want to see how it looks!”
“You’ve given it to me. You must put it on, not me.”
You lean to Astarion and carefully adjust the adornment to his left ear. To your surprise, it fits perfectly and doesn’t show any indication it can fall off. You think it must be easier to lose regular earrings than elven cuffs.
“How does it look?” he asks.
“Gorgeous.”
He cups your cheeks and kisses you. You feel like floating, forgetting about everything. You touch his ears and caress them with your fingers. Then he lets you go and presses his forehead against yours. “Salen arivae.”
“Salen means ‘my’, what does arivae mean?”
“Sunshine”, he answers after a short pause.