Chapter Text
The slate grey of storm clouds choked out the burgeoning gold of the rising sun. Mist hung heavy in the air, painting the forest they traveled through in quicksilver, making it all the harder to stumble across the waterlogged earth. Rain clung to everything, soaking their travelling cloaks, freezing on their skin, dripping from limp, olive green leaves.
It had rained all the day before, and the storm had continued into the night. They had only paused a handful of times, curling up beneath cliffs where the rain couldn’t quite reach them or in caves too shallow for any manner of beast to make a home in it.
Now the night was waning, although Aspen couldn’t really tell. She supposed the iron grey of the stormy night was softening to a wispy dove-grey, but shadows still stretched long, cloaking much of the world in darkness.
Even so, it was probably best that they found somewhere to rest. She did not anticipate the heavy clouds drifting away before the moon rose, but knowing the sun lurked beyond the storm set her on edge. Astarion could slip through the world at dawn and dusk, when the sun’s light was softer, kinder, and he had passed through towns and forests before even when the sun was no longer benevolent so long as his cloak was drawn low. Still, she did not want to risk him coming to harm, the sunlight burning him away.
Blinking raindrops that had gathered in her lashes, Aspen looked around, seeing nothing but misty forest and the blurred outlines of trees surrounding them. Perhaps they could find another cave, something big enough for the two of them, but small enough that forest creatures would not bother with it.
A shiver wracked through her, and her whole body spasmed in response. Fingers trembling, teeth clacking together, shoulders twitching. Rain water slipped down her back, cold as ice. She really did not want to spend the day in a cave, or camped out somewhere outside. She wanted to be inside , wanted soft blankets and warm food and a tub she could soak in for hours until the chill of the night went away.
“This is miserable .” Beside her, Astarion voiced her innermost thoughts, his mouth turned down in a frown. “It’s been raining all night, I’m freezing, and I’m covered in mud.”
He gave a dissatisfied grunt as he shook one foot, flecks of mud spraying in an arc. He winced as he settled his foot back down, the squelch of a mud puddle sounding beneath him. “Now that is just repulsive .”
She managed a weak giggle, wrapping her arms around her middle. Her heavy woolen cloak offered no protection against the rain any longer, and again she shivered. It had been thoroughly soaked through, and now it clung to her awkwardly, scratching at her throat and back.
Astarion opened his mouth, clearly on the verge of complaining further. His eyes flicked to hers, a brilliant crimson, stark against the pallid landscape. The rain had leached the world of its colour, even the most vibrant of wildflowers dulled to an echo of their former life. But his eyes remained bright, sharp as the blades sheathed at his hip.
Even exhausted and cold as he was, he was quick, and she must not have been hiding her own fatigue particularly well. Lines creased his brow, pale hands sliding from the folds of his cloak to find hers.
“You’re freezing,” he murmured, the lines in his brow deepening. It reminded her of a statue, a sculpture by a renowned artisan, the lines etched into the granite of his face.
But granite was not soft as her Astarion was, too hard and unyielding. He liked to pretend otherwise, but there was a soft, warm-hearted person behind his devilish veneer. He was a villain, to be sure, but there was a gentleness hidden beneath that rough exterior, and she could feel it now as he held her hands so carefully, as he circled his thumbs over the backs of her wrists.
His gaze snapped up to hers, ire making his eyes flare like rubies in sunlight. His brow arched, and she could tell there was very little patience left in his waterlogged heart. “Why didn’t you tell me? We could have stopped for longer. We could have looked for an inn or somewhere to rest.”
She shook her head, trying to will her teeth to stop chattering so she could speak. “We needed to keep moving. We can’t travel much during the day, and we still have far to go.”
He rolled his eyes, groaning in exasperation. “Darling, I love you, but sometimes I fear you are not intellectually gifted.”
“Are you insulting me right now?” She did not want to pull away from his hold, the friction of his hands rubbing hers the first spark of warmth she had felt in hours. But she could not help the frigid tone, annoyed with him for implying she was stupid.
The corners of his lips twitched, and he quickly brought her hands to his lips, blowing warmth onto them. “I would never dream of such a thing, my dear. But I would rather take a few extra days to travel than have you keel over from hypothermia.”
Now she was the one rolling her eyes. “I’m not going to die from hypothermia.”
He clicked his tongue. “Darling, your lips are blue.”
She drew her bottom lip between her teeth immediately, nervously biting in the hopes that he was only teasing her. “No they’re not.”
“I am many things, love, but I am not colourblind.”
“I’m okay, really!” She insisted, although her defense was undercut by how she did not yank herself from his grip. How she in fact leaned closer, relishing the warmth of his breath against her skin.
“Liar.” He was smirking, but it didn’t reach his eyes. In contrast, they seemed sharp enough to draw blood. It was all so at odds with his usual laid-back, mischievous air. He sounded far too solemn, and it set her on edge.
“I’m not a liar ,” she whined. “I really am fine. I just want us to cover as much ground as we can before the sun comes up.”
He sighed, eyes closing for a moment. She felt her body slumping forward, freed from the iron-strong hold of his gaze. Her fingers were tingling, sharp pin-pricks piercing at her skin now that they were being warmed. It hurt, and tired as she was, she couldn’t stifle the whimper in her throat, needing to move her hands to bring feeling back into them as the discomfort grew.
Astarion’s eyes snapped open at once, his hands tightening on hers. His annoyance was gone, concern etched across his face. “Darling, what’s wrong?”
She winced, wiggling her fingers. “I need to move my hands. They’re hurting.”
Eyes widening, he nodded, releasing them at once. He remained silent as she shook her hands out, clenching them into fists and flexing them out again over and over until the worst of the pain had subsided.
“Does it feel better?” His voice was whisper soft, and with the dull boom of thunder in the distance she might not have known he’d spoken at all were it not for the cloud of breath that hung in the air.
She nodded, tucking her hands against her body. “A little. It’s not great though.”
A twitching of his brow, like the shiver of a tree branch in the wind. “So you admit you’re not fine.”
“Well I never said that .”
He groaned, rolling his eyes. “Darling, it’s implied . If your hands hurt so much from the cold that you cried then you are most certainly not fine.”
“I didn’t cry!” Well she might have cried, just a little. But it hadn’t been intentional, and it had only been one small whimper. Surely she couldn’t be faulted for that.
From the look of incredulity he fixed on her, it was clear that he could fault her for it. And that in fact he would fault her for it, quite gleefully, if only to press his point.
“You did cry a little, my dear.” He pinched her side, smirking as she yelped. “And while normally I adore your cries, considering the circumstances I don’t think they’re from pleasure.”
A gust of wind tore at them, rattling through the trees, tearing at their clothes, their cloaks and hair fluttering in the air. Her teeth chattered, her hands trembling against her sides.
He chuckled, although there was little mirth in the sound. He stepped closer, pressing his brow to hers, his breath curling against her lips. “You’re doing nothing, but proving my point.”
“I’m fine, I’m really fine!” She didn’t want to be a burden, didn’t want to be a dead weight, didn’t want to hold him down. He needed freedom, he needed someone who was not weak.
“Even your voice is trembling.” He was speaking in a sing-song cadence, reminding her of all the nights where he had teased her, using only his words to make her needy for his touch. “And while I do so love when you shake, you’re not shaking for me .”
“ Well …” She slid her hands free from the confines of her cloak, pressing her palms to his chest. “Maybe there’s a way you can warm me up? Then I would be shaking just for you.”
“A tempting offer.”
Aspen did her best to smile, her muscles rigid as death from the unforgiving elements. She wanted to appear coy, and yet she feared the only thing she looked was pained. “Tempting enough to think of a way to warm me?”
She’d been certain he would at the very least respond with a teasing innuendo, perhaps a suggestive touch, even a darkening of his eyes. But Astarion did not respond in any way she had anticipated, no smirk, no titillating little comments. He did not even touch her, instead pulling away until there was a chasm between them, his brow furrowed in dismay.
“As enticing a suggestion that is,” he said, his voice so dry she could have used his words for kindling to actually warm her. “I will have to pass this time. I find our current circumstances are not suited for any manner of lovemaking.” He kept his gaze fixed on hers the entire time he spoke. She felt frozen, her body pulled taut, and she doubted she’d be able to move even if she’d tried.
“Because of the weather?” She tried, wishing he would touch her again.
“ No .” His response was sharp, harsh as the icy wind. “I’m simply not in the mood, not when I feel borderline furious .”
That seemed a bit of an over-exaggeration, but Astarion seemed to feel things five times as intensely as she did, and she was not about to stifle his emotions. He was upset, and he was upset at her .
She opened her mouth to say something, to apologize, to ask what she had done to provoke his ire, but he waved a hand in the air, silencing her.
“Don’t.” He sighed, so loud the branches shook. “I don’t want you to apologize.”
Her teeth clicked as she closed her mouth, another shiver going through her.
Astarion looked away, and it made Aspen squirm. She didn’t want him to be upset, she didn’t want to hurt him, she didn’t want to be the cause of his hurt.
For a moment there was silence, but for the sighs and huffs Astarion made as he mulled whatever he was thinking over. Finally, after an eternity, he looked back at her, his brow still furrowed, his mouth a crescent-moon frown.
“I would have liked it if you’d told me you were feeling poorly. We could have looked for somewhere to stay until the storm passed.”
She kicked at a rock, looking away before he could pin her with that ruby-bright stare. “I didn’t want to be a burden. I can handle a little cold.”
A disgruntled noise burbled from the back of his throat, and she snorted, used to his sounds of discontent. “You’re not a burden.”
She huffed now, arms tensing around herself as she glared down at the soggy ground. The unending storm and the exhaustion weighing her down had spread her patience thin, and she could feel the last of it snapping. “Well I don’t want to ever be one. I don’t want to hold us up. I don’t want to be weak .”
The last thing she’d expected in response was laughter, and yet that’s exactly what she heard. Astarion chuckled softly, his hands slipping beneath her cloak to find her hips.
It took her by surprise, and she looked up quickly, only to find that his gaze had softened, lines no longer marring his brow, his lips no longer pinched into a frown.
“What is it?” Suspicion coiled in her belly, an oily snake ready to strike, making her squirm. “Why are you laughing?”
Her bewilderment only made him laugh harder, eyes crinkling. “My darling, you know I find you terribly adorable, right?”
“What did I do?!” Her voice cracked, trembling as she tried to figure out why he was laughing at her.
He shook his head. “Nothing, darling. But you don’t need to worry about being a burden, or about being weak.”
“But I-”
He tapped her lips with his index finger, quieting her. He was no longer laughing, but he was still smirking at her, his mischief returned, and she supposed she could be content with that. “Do you trust me?”
She nodded, wrinkling her nose as a snake of anxiety coiled around her belly. “I do . Why?”
Another tap to her lips, his smile widening. “Don’t look so suspicious, dearest. I’m not planning anything villainous.”
“That expression begs to differ.”
He pulled his lips into a pout, giving her puppy-dog eyes. “What’s wrong with my expression?”
Another shiver wracked through her body, and the desire to curl against him nearly overwhelmed her. But she sensed he was on the verge of teasing her terribly, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to give him the satisfaction of falling for his charms.
“Oh darling, don’t frown.” He sighed, shaking his head as he gently ran the pad of his thumb over her brow, smoothing away the lines of her frown. “There are much prettier expressions you can make for me.”
A flicker of heat bloomed in her cheeks, although it was far from welcome despite the cold. She looked away, huffing, trying to ignore how nice it felt to have his fingers tracing over her face with such gentleness. “What was your point? I trust you, although you are trying my patience.”
He stepped closer, not bothering to cringe at the squelch of mud beneath his boots. “I want you to look at me, darling.”
She did not, instead ducking her head to sulk further. Why shouldn’t she, anyways? He’d gotten mad at her because she’d been cold , and now he was going to tease her.
Much to her chagrin, Astarion did not allow her long to brood. His fingers slid down her jaw, curling beneath her chin. He was gentle at first, trying to turn her face up, but when she resisted he clicked his tongue, gripping her more firmly.
“Don’t be such a brat, darling,” he said, lowering his head, eyes bright as they searched for hers.
“I’m not a brat!” Her head snapped up before she could think anything through.
And once she had thought it through, she realized she’d been had. Astarion was smirking broadly, far too pleased with how easily he’d provoked her.
“ Well ,” he said, brows arching high. He still had his hand on her chin, and he seemed unwilling to let her go. “Now that I can finally see your face, darling, we can talk.”
She rolled her eyes, but all that did was earn a bubble of laughter as he cupped her cheek with his other hand.
“Do you know how precious you are to me?” He said, laughter in his voice.
“I-” She stammered, struggling to understand what he was talking about. “ What?”
He hummed, his smile smug. “Evidently not .”
“What does this have to do with you being mad at me over being cold?” Her words were not as crisp as she’d hoped, more reminiscent of wilting flowers than icicle sharp. She was tired, she wanted to curl up in his arms, she wanted to be warm .
“ Because…” He trailed off, eyes bright with devilish delight. He let his words linger in the air, drawing closer to her, softening his hold on her chin.
His expression morphed after a moment, and he looked at her with such gentleness she thought she might collapse and melt into the mud. It was so entirely at odds with his chilly look from earlier, the frosty annoyance when he’d realized the extent of her discomfort.
“Because?” She wished he would close the distance between them. He was not particularly warm , but he was warmer than she was right now, and she wanted his lips on hers, she wanted to be tangled in his arms. She wanted him to get to the point .
“I always knew patience was never one of your virtues, darling,” he mused, brushing away droplets of rain as he stroked her cheeks. “But can you not at least try? For me?”
Whatever he saw in her face must have delighted him greatly, because he laughed again. His hand slid to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair as he pressed his forehead to hers, holding her there against him.
“Were it not so miserable out here I would prolong this a while longer,” he murmured, his words a breath on her lips. “I do so love to watch you squirm.”
“Maybe I really will get hypothermia and die,” she grumbled. Her heart wasn’t truly in it, but she felt the need to put up a petulant front, so he wouldn’t think this was working on her.
Undeterred by her act, Astarion pressed on, pinching her cheek sharply. “Don’t go talking like that, darling. Who would read to me at night if you went and died? Who would tell me how beautiful I am every day? Who would cry my name as prettily as you?”
At that she really did make an attempt to disentangle herself from his hold, although it was of little use. The cold had made her body stiff, slow, and he was already much faster and stronger than she. His arms tensed, and any attempt she made to escape was met with a snort and a sharp tug as he drew her close again.
He was too close for her to make out his expression, but she could feel his lips pulling into a pout, could feel the creases in his brow. “Don’t be like that, my love. I’m only telling you how dear you are to me.”
“ Astarion .”
He sniffed. “I like it more when you call me pretty things. Like your lover , beloved , my sweet, most handsome creature you’ve ever seen, most skilled lover in the world. Really anything.”
She groaned, slumping forward. If he wasn’t going to release her then she was going to collapse into his arms and make him carry her.
“ Woah , don’t fall over yet, darling.” His mouth grazed the side of her cheek, the feel of his smile hot against her skin. “You’ll have plenty of time to swoon for me later .”
“I thought you said you weren’t in the mood for anything,” she said, acid in her tone.
With a sigh, Astarion righted her once more, his smooth hands cupping her cheeks again as he drew back, studying her face. “Alright,” he said, finally conceding. “I won’t tease you any longer.”
He sighed again, brushing away raindrops as they spilled onto her face, his expression softening, gazing at her with such tenderness her knees felt weak. He was quiet a moment, only the sound of the rain as it pattered over the ground. When he finally did speak, his voice was feather soft, grazing against her cheeks in a rush of warmth.
“There is nothing more important to me than what I’m holding now in my hands. I couldn’t care less about how long it takes us to get somewhere.”
He leaned close again, until his eyes were nothing more than a blur of crimson. Yet even though she could not make out his expression any longer, there was no mistaking the earnestness in his words, a part of himself that he only ever revealed to her.
“What I do care about is you .” His voice dropped, low and warm and insistent. “And I care about whether you’re okay. You are so precious to me, and I want to take care of you if there’s something wrong. I want to take care of you even if there’s nothing wrong, just because I want to.”
His grip tightened on her, his words determined. “So be a burden, be slow, be weak. I’ll be here with you, I’ll take care of you, always. Forever.”
Aspen hadn’t expected to cry, and yet her eyes burned nonetheless. So rarely was he so solemn, so sincere. He always showed his love for her ardently, his hand searching for hers as they travelled, his chin resting on her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her waist, little kisses when she was least expecting it, dragging her into his lap any chance he got. He would tuck her against him while she slept, his eyes would brighten whenever she laughed at one of his awful little jokes, he always passed healing potions to her before he tended to himself, much to her own chagrin.
But words such as this made her heart ache, made her feel like she was falling apart as a worn stuffed toy, much loved, came undone. He used his words to tease and trick and enact all manner of his melodramatics. But he was using them now to tell her such sweet things she felt like she was made of spun sugar, light and near-formless and melting with every drop of rain that fell on her.
She shivered again, before she could find the words to respond. The wind was beginning to pick up, and the drizzle of rain was growing stronger once more, returning to the deluge they had endured overnight.
She was cold , she was so terribly cold, and she was growing colder with every passing moment. Her mind slowed, unable to summon the right words. Her body grew heavy, leaden. She felt like she would fall over into the mud and dissolve into nothing.
“Oh my poor pet,” Astarion cooed. He wiped her tears away with the pads of his thumbs, wrapped his arms around her waist, tucking her as close as he could. “You can’t stop shivering.”
She whined, the last dredges of her ire blown away like pollen in the wind. She couldn’t stop shivering, not when her clothes were soaked through and her hair was practically glued to her skin and the wind was as sharp as knives slicing clean through her bones.
“That’s enough of this,” he said, sounding resolute. “We’re finding somewhere to rest, and to wait out this storm. An inn, a boarding house. Somewhere decidedly not outdoors. ”
She couldn’t help the weak way she whined, her head falling against his shoulder. “ Where? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
He patted her back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “There’s always an inn somewhere, even in the middle of nowhere.”
“That doesn’t sound real,” she grumbled.
“Come on,” he murmured, peeling away to find her eyes. “Let’s get moving. If we stay here any longer you really will freeze to death.”
His brow creased, and he smoothed back her hair, readjusting her hood to protect her face, not that it was of much use anymore. “And we absolutely cannot have that.”