Work Text:
Astarion was exhausted. Speaking honestly, their whole ragtag group of begrudging allies were bone weary. They hadn't had a proper rest since leaving Last Light Inn with the safety of the Harpers and the cleric's protection. The party had of course been making camp - during what their best guess of when night time was in this place -, but one can never fully relax or feel safe in a land so heavily tainted with death and shadow.
Things had gotten a touch easier after Tav had convinced that crude pixie to bless them. They could at least stop worrying about walking into a cursed shadow around every corner, but of course that led them to dealing with the Thorm family and their . . . eccentric vices. Then the whole event of Moonrise Towers, convincing Ketheric and his underlings of their 'loyalty to the absolute' - without killing the damned goblins at Tav's insistence - and that blood obsessed drow woman.
Now, their sorry lot were limping their way through a ruined Sharran temple in pursuit of Shadowheart's Dark Justiciar fantasies and fighting off skeletons and rodents every step of the way. Astarion had been irked when they took out Balthazar. He'd been fed up when the rats of all things started threatening them. And now, after finally finding the damned devil Raphael had set his price on, after snapping at Tav in frustration and exhaustion for having a chat with the infernal bastard, after barely managing to take out his pet and most of his lackeys, Astarion was in desperate need of a gods damned nap.
All this to say, he's bloody exhausted, which is why he's so surprised when it happens. For being so focussed on the thought of his waiting bedroll that he slipped up. Why he'll blame himself for not paying enough attention, for letting it happen.
The fight was nearly over, only Yurgir himself and one lackey were left, barely standing. Karlach was standing strong at the front but missing the usual anger in her eyes that she taps into in their combats. Shadowheart had positioned herself across the space from Astarion on an outcropping of rock. She had spent the last of her spiritual energy a few moments into the battle bringing Karlach and herself back from the brink of passing out. She was now desperately tossing acid vials and cantrips into the fight, desperate to help keep Yurgir at least visible for the time being. Tav stood behind Yurgir’s lackey, a good distance out of melee range but close enough to hit with their spells - their favored Moonbeam shining brightly as it blasted radiant light down on Yurgir. They were just barely out of his line of sight from where Astarion stood at the bottom of the rocky, makeshift stairs, shooting enchanted arrows to avoid the worst of the much larger creatures’ blows.
He could just barely make out the familiar but new glow of their matching warding bond ring Tav had found in the pockets of some long dead lovers. Tav had insisted upon his wearing it and so far Astarion had very little complaints. He’d never admit it, but he knew he was one of the weaker members of their group. He was never martially trained, could barely move in heavier armor, and he bruises like a peach. If Tav was willing to take some of the physical burden of fighting on for him, he could hardly complain. Tav was better built for battle than he was - not as well built as Karlach, but who could be, really - and being a caster meant they could stay out of melee range for most fights, avoiding the majority of the heaviest hits. Yes, Astarion had agreed - perhaps foolishly - to wearing the rings after a very persuasive Tav speech.
It was the faintest of clicks. He should have been paying attention. A tiny ticking he didn’t notice until it stopped, until tens of small explosives were erupting around him. His ring flashed bright in response as flames engulfed him, licking at his face and biting where the metal of his gear touched his skin. The heat and light receded as fast as they appeared. Astarion had leapt forward mid explosion - a too late reaction to the danger - stumbling up several steps of the staircase trying to avoid as much of the remaining heat and flames as he could. Even with all the equipment and magic protecting him it was a hard hit. He could already feel several severe burns that he’d have to speak to Shadowheart about healing in the morning.
His injuries weren’t the only thing Astarion took note of. The Moonbeam over Yurgir flickered and sputtered out. Astarion smirked. He had a cheeky comment about how ‘now’s not the time to get distracted by my beauty, darling’ primed on the tip of his tongue when he heard Karlach scream.
“TAV! What in the hells?!”
Astarion reacts instinctively, head whipping to that gentle glow of the matching ring across the lair. His leap from the flames means he can now see Tav’s position clearly and the sight catches Astarion’s heart and throat before dropping to churn his stomach. The light from Tav’s ring is only just fading back to its resting state, but their knees have already given out. Their hands are clutching the front of their armor as if trying to apply pressure to a wound and catch their breath all at once. They’re tilting precariously far forward, as though about to fall that last little distance to the ground, but their head is angled up. Their gaze - even from this distance appearing dazed and far off - is searching out something, someone it seems because the search stops on Astarion’s face. “No!” It’s all Astarion can manage with what little breath he has in him.
It’s the sight of the blood that gets his body moving. Blood pours from Tav’s lips and splatter’s across their leather and scalemail when they cough and sputter around the feeling of it in their lungs. Astarion is running. He’s paying no mind to the dissolving battle around him. He should have been.
In his blind haste, he runs straight through the dwindling combat and Yurgir’s thrice-damned lackey takes a desperate swipe at him. He dodges too late, taking a hit in his side. The rings flash. “Shit!” Astarion rips the ring from his finger and tosses it away, but the damage is already done.
Tav’s ring blazes to life again, transferring the brunt of the new injury. Their outcry of pain is more of a choked gurgle, blood now gushing down their chin. They fall to their side, face hitting the dirt.
“No!” Astarion finally closes the distance between them - skidding across the final few feet on his knees - as their head bounces off the floor. “Get up damn you!” He grabs their shoulders, rolling them on their back. He’s nearly stunned frozen again when he sees just how much blood has poured from their mouth. Past the lips that ask him every night if they can kiss him, and every morning the same question. Never taking, only asking, without any expectations or demands. Those same lips are spilling more blood than he’s ever taken himself. Selfish as he is.
Astarion doesn’t need a functioning heart or lungs full of gasping breaths to know that he’s panicking. Tav’s eyes are shut. They don’t respond when Astarion tries to wake them and their pulse is far, far too faint when he checks it. He’s not a healer. His knowledge of medicine stops at which artery is best for biting into. He ran out of healing potions in the fight with Balthazar and even if he did have rags to bind them with, all of the major injuries seem internal.
“Darling, please hold on for me.” He grabs desperately at the pouches on Tav’s belt. Nothing. “Come on, damn it! You’ve always got the good potions squirreled away.” He practically rips the shoulder straps of their pack trying to get into it. Cheese. Spell scrolls. Scratch’s blasted ball. No potions. “FUCK!” He throws their pack in a random direction in frustration. His hands come back down to frantically hold their blood smeared cheeks, guiding their head to face him. “Come on, darling. You promised me, remember? Open your eyes for me.”
He strokes his thumbs along their cheekbones, swiping away some of the blood there. Tav’s eyes stay firmly closed. Astarion can sense their pulse growing weaker. He can barely sense it at all now. He’s getting desperate now. Tav dying was not something he’d ever considered. They’d not even made it to Baldur's Gate yet. They had just agreed on being . . . something. Something more to each other, nameless but important. They aren’t allowed to leave him. Not now that he fucking cares. “WAKE UP, YOU IDIOT!”
“Astarion!” That was Shadowheart. Running up behind him and grabbing him by the shoulder to pull him back.
He must look like a madman. Screaming insults in the face of his dying lover, but he doesn’t care. Can’t be bothered to care about the others opinions of him in this moment. He latches on to Shadowheart’s arm on his shoulder, grip tighter than a noose, “Get them up!” He meant for it to sound threatening, but it comes out as a cracked plea for help. He’s begging.
Astarion can see in Shadowheart’s eyes that she recognizes it for what it is, but - wisely - doesn't comment on it, just turns to Tav on the ground before them. She's checking them over for external injuries as she says calmly, as if trying to project that calmness into him with her voice alone, "Karlach is searching Yurgir for potions of healing. Did you see what made them go down? A head wound? A spell?"
Astarion swallowed around the dry lump of guilt in his throat. "It was my fault," he whispers.
"Astarion?" His voice must have wavered terribly for Shadowheart to sound so concerned, but she does not turn away from her examination of Tav. "What do you mean?"
"I wasn't paying attention," Astarion turns his eyes away from Tav's prone form, glaring hard at the way his blood splattered hands clench the fabric at his thighs, "and those damned rings." He tries to say more, about how it was the explosion and his mad dashing into an enemies range at fault, but it would come out too revealing, exposing, and he's let too much show already.
Shadowheart luckily seems to understand well enough what's happened, even with his words failing him. She's poking and prodding at Tav's middle now, "If it's from the ring's effects then it's internal damage. I've fixed this for them enough to know what to do with my magic, but I've exhausted my blessings from my Lady today."
"They've come to you with this before?" Astarion is not seeing anything now. His eyes might be looking but his mind is scanning back to recent evenings after battles. Were there moments he missed? How often did Tav need to seek out Shadowheart because of his carelessness, his uselessness?
He registers the thudding footsteps of Karlach's boots as she approaches, "Annoying bastard didn't have any potions on him." She eyes Tav on the ground. "How are they looking?"
"Bad," Shadowheart answers. Astarion winces but Shadowheart either doesn't notice or chooses to ignore it. "I can try to stabilize them the traditional physicians way, just to last long enough for my magic to replenish, but there's no guarantee that they'll survive the night like this. We’ll have to hope the others still have something left to help when we get back to camp."
Astarion feels the sudden urge to vomit. Tav is possibly bleeding out internally because of him. They've visited Shadowheart for help with this before because of him. They might not live to see another sunrise again because of him. He can see Karlach out of the corner of his eye, reaching out a hand to rest on Tav's shoulder as Shadowheart does her best to treat what she can. Karlach is speaking softly to Tav what Astarion is sure are words of support and comfort but he's not truly hearing what she's saying to them. He wants to be there, where Karlach is. Holding Tav's hand, feeling their pulse, and whispering soft pleas into their ears. But he can't. He is the reason Tav is in this position in the first place. He is the reason that the person he loves might never wake up again. So, he denies himself the comfort of holding them to spare himself the guilt of his touch.
He’s not sure how long it takes, but Shadowheart's hand is on his shoulder now, "They're stable enough to move back to camp now, Astarion." He looks up to meet Shadowheart's look of concern. Astarion can see over her shoulder where Karlach has picked up Tav's limp body in her arms. He stares back at the ground in front of him. "I'm going to grab the last of what we need from here and follow behind." She pauses. "You should go with them."
"Hah," Astarion scoffs at the dirt before him, but he stands. They’re treating him like glass. He hates himself for it.
* * *
They make their way back to camp in silence, save for the clanking of Tav’s armor against Karlach’s pauldrons. Gale is the first one to spot their approach. He looks up from whatever dreary concoction he’s been forced to boil together with the camp’s lackluster supplies and his eyes widen in shock.
“What bloody mess did you get yourselves into now?” Gale drops his ladle to sit on the edge of the pot and rushes his way over. This is what catches the eyes of both Wyll and Lae’zel. The former of which makes an equally surprised expression whilst the latter seems more disappointed.
“By the Gods,” Wyll might as well have been grasping his pearls with the way he’s gawking. “What in the hells happened out there?”
“Fucking Orthon named Yurgir. We had to get rid of him for our charismatic cambion friend, Raphael,” Karlach sneered as if she wanted to spit the names more than speak them. “Shadowheart’s out of magic for the moment so all we can do is hope nothing gods awful happens between now and morning.”
“I may have something back in my pack that could juice you back up a bit, Shadowheart,” offered Gale.
Shadowheart walks around Astarion and Karlach, having caught up to them on the return to camp. “Please,” she responded, “If you can get me enough of my energy back to at least keep them stable until morning it would do wonders for their chances.”
“Chk! What use are you in battle if you cannot keep a comrade from falling?” Lae’zel was clearly aiming this remark as a stab at Shadowheart, but Astarion could feel it sitting heavy in his chest. Useless. “Next time, you ought to take me with you instead. At least I’ll not run out of blade to stab and slice with.”
“As I seem to recall it, Lae’zel, it’s always me helping you back to your feet after you’ve run head first into enemies you can’t manage,” was Shadowheart’s rebuttal.
Astarion could see Lae’zel winding up for another verbal assault of Shadowheart’s skills. Usually, he lived for this kind of entertainment, loved betting with Tav about who would come out on top of each confrontation and whether or not the gith and the cleric would ever fight it out or fuck it out, but he was tired. So tired. And his . . . And Tav was hanging from Karlach’s shoulder, perhaps inches from death’s door, and no one was acting like it mattered.
So he snapped. “Oh will you all just shut up?!” Silence did indeed fall and so did their gazes upon Astarion. “All of you standing around, gawking, gasping, bickering and complaining. Meanwhile, Tav is held there near fucking dying because you lot can’t seem to focus enough to care!”
“Astarion, they didn’t mean-,” Wyll seemed to be trying to placate him but Astarion was having none of it. He had been furious with himself for hours now, it was time they all shared in the wealth.
“You!” Astarion pointed at Gale and Shadowheart, “Go look for whatever it is that you might have. You,” He turned his gaze on Lae’zel and Wyll, “Go back to whatever the hells you were doing so long as it's out of my sight and you,” He pointed to Karlach, “Carry them to my tent.” With that Astarion turned heel and marched off in the direction of his own tent, not bothering to check if his orders were being followed.
In his tent, Astarion rolled out his bedroll. He heard heavy footfalls approaching and didn’t even look behind him before saying, “Lay them down there, Karlach.” He poured clean water into his wash basin. He listened to the soft rustling of fabric and harsh clinking of armor behind him as Karlach did as she was told. “Warm this water for me when you're done.” Karlach crossed over to the water basin. She placed her hands on its metal sides and let them heat up from the power of her engine. She didn’t speak a word and Astarion didn’t look at her. She paused after the water was warm enough, taking her hands away but waiting as if for further instructions. When none came, she reached out to squeeze Tav’s shoulder, “Hang in there, Soldier.” She flicked her eyes up to Astarion “You too, Fancy Boy.” Then, she left.
Astarion took a deep breath he didn’t need, held it in, and finally looked at Tav. Really looked. Took in every scratch, every bruise. Every single drop of blood was cataloged in his mind. A debt to remember.
He started by removing their armor. Unbuckling, and unlacing. Gently prying loose and setting aside. Although they’d not been . . . intimate recently, Tav still spent most of their evenings here in Astarion’s tent. Tav didn’t mind sleeping out under the stars, but openly speaks of their preference to be curled up beside him even if nature is their calling. Each night, they helped each other undress. Astarion was just getting used to stripping another without any intentions beyond sleep. And perhaps a cuddle. It was rapidly becoming his favorite part of the day. Needless to say he was still well acquainted with the ins and outs of Tav’s armor.
They always looked so much smaller without it. Not fragile or tiny by any means, they were still easily bigger than Astarion himself, but . . . more real, tangible and mortal.
He grabbed a washcloth next. Dipped it in the water and rang it out. He started with their face, wiping away the blood and the gore that had dried there. He was slow and thorough and worked his way from top to bottom, cleaning as much filth from their body as he could reach without taking their clothes off. Astarion tossed the rag aside and dumped the water outside his tent. He grabbed one of his softer throw pillows - Tav’s favorite to steal - and carefully placed it under Tav’s head. Astarion kneeled down beside their head and pushed the hair out of their face. Then he looked. Looked at the way their horns pressed divots in the pillow. How their eyelashes barely kissed their cheeks. The subtle beginnings of laugh lines and faint little freckles from too many days in the sun.
“And you,” Astarion ordered again, just like he did with the others, “You can’t die. Not before all this is over and most certainly not because of me.” He leaned down to press their foreheads together, the softest of touches. “You’re not allowed to die on me. Got that?” There was no response,but he wasn’t expecting one.
He pulled his blanket over Tav’s lower half and only then did he start attending to himself. He was halfway through taking off his own leather armor when his tent flap opened once again.
“Astarion?” It was Shadowheart. She was holding a potion bottle and watching him like one might an injured and defensive animal. Her eyes fell on Tav resting softly on a pillow and tucked in under a blanket and her face seemed to soften. “Gale gave me a potion that rejuvenated a small bit of my magical energy. It won’t be enough to get them back to being conscious but it’ll make sure they make it until morning so I can properly heal them.”
Astarion breathed a sigh of relief and took off the last of his armor. He used it to gesture at Tav, “What are you waiting for then?”
Shadowheart pressed her lips together but said nothing before she quaffed the potion and got to work. She gestured in the shape of a sigil above Tav’s abdomen and uttered a few incantations. The healing light it produced was fairly weak, but even Astarion could tell that it had worked, if only because he noted the slightest bit of color returning to Tav’s cheeks.
“And you’re certain this will get them through ‘til morning?”
“Yes,” Her work completed, Shadowheart stood to leave. However, instead of turning to exit the tent she remained looking at Astarion. “You know, Astarion, you’re not the only one who cares about Tav. We all care, just differently. And, as much as it annoys some of us to admit, we care about you, too. So don’t push us away if you need us.” She hesitated but decided to add, “Even if you don’t need us we’re still here for you.” She held out her hand to him with her open palm facing up. There rested the warding bond ring Astarion had tossed away in his mad dash panic.
Astarion did not take it. He stared unblinking and tired and, eventually, Shadowheart sighed. “I’ll leave it here.” She placed it on the side table he kept by the entrance, gave him one last indecipherable look, and left.
For the rest of the night, Astarion was going to be alone with Tav’s unconscious body, and his own thoughts. He settled himself beside Tav, cross legged, reaching out to hold their hand. Astarion held the dead weight of their arm in his hands, flipping their hand palm up and lightly tracing the lines there with his finger tips. “I know they all mean well.” He spoke to their unresponsive face. So many emotions coursed through him, being alone with the unthinkable consequences of his own foolishness. Some anger, a bit of fear, but mostly he felt sorrow, denial.
He knew there was likely no real point in speaking aloud to Tav right now, but all the same, he gathered himself, breathed deeply and spoke, “I am well aware of your . . . mortality.” His thumbs smoothed over the pulse point on their wrist. “It’s not something I’ve never considered, but -” Astarion’s voice wavers. A single, bloody tear rolled down his nose and splashed in the middle of Tav’s open palm. “But I never thought I might lose you so soon. Not so soon after I finally started being honest with you. . . with myself.”
He wiped away the tear with his thumb, leaving behind a red tint on Tav’s skin where it fell. Light glinted off the ring on Tav’s finger. Tav had been so thrilled to find the rings. Astarion can still remember them practically skipping across the grime coated hospital floor to give him his half of the matching pair.
He slid his right hand up Tav’s arm and shoulder to rest on Tav’s cheek. “You’re going to leave me behind one day. I know that.” He stroked his thumb across their cheekbone. “But not yet. I’m not ready for you to go anywhere. In full honesty, I’m not sure I ever will be. So, at least this time,” Astarion leans down, gently presses his lips to their forehead, “Come back to me, you idiot.”
Astarion stood up briefly to snuff out the candles in the tent. He laid himself down at Tav’s side, facing them and curling his body around them almost protectively. Astarion tucks himself into their side and rests his hand on Tav’s throat, pulling the blanket up over them both and feeling Tav’s pulse beat softly under his touch as he waits for sunrise.
* * *
“Astarion! These are perfect for us!”
“Darling, I do hope you're not trying to propose to me in a shadow-cursed, corpse-filled hospital staffed by zombie nurses. I'm afraid I'd have to decline.”
“Ha! No, I’m not that hopeless. Look though, if you wear this ring and I wear the matching one then I can cast a spell on us that will let me take some physical damage dealt to you. Here, put it on!”
“Hold on. You want me to wear a ring that will hurt you when I get hurt?”
“Well when you say it like that it sounds bad.” Tav reached out to take Astarion’s hand and placed a small golden ring in his palm. “Don't think of it like that. How I see it is I'll always know when you need me and even when I can't be at your side I'll still be able to protect you.”
“You know I appreciate the thought, Love, but I can take care of myself.”
This was a constant hot button issue in their relationship. Tav was extremely protective both by nature and due to several unfortunate events in their life before the tadpoles. Astarion knows they mean well, and he's usually all for people doing the heavy lifting and damage absorbing in battle for him. But when it leads to Tav jumping in front of Astarion in battle to take stabs, blows, and spells - on multiple occasions, sometimes even in the same battle - Astarion was not so happy about that. Not when he just started caring for this self-sacrificial fool.
Tav sighed, “I know you can and I know it makes you worried when I get too protective.” They rotated their own matching ring between their fingers, staring at it intently and not meeting Astarion’s gaze. “I just. . . I get so scared when you get hurt. I can't take losing another person I love, especially not you.”
Astarion looked around to be sure none of the others were in sight before stepping forward and gently taking Tav’s hands in his, stroking his thumbs up their wrists. He didn't mind public displays of affection in theory, but something as soft and intimate as this still left Astarion feeling too vulnerable for any other's eyes except Tav's. “How about a compromise, then?” Astarion took Tav's chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting their head up just enough for him to be able to look up and meet their eyes. “I'll wear this ring for you, if you can promise me two things.”
“Anything.” They were both barely speaking above a whisper now.
“Firstly, don't ever take on more than you can handle. I want you to take that thing off well before you reach your limit, understand me?”
They nodded.
“Second, you will take care of yourself. No being an idiot. That means eating properly, sleeping plenty, and healing yourself before anyone else when you need it.”
“But-”
“No buts, no bargaining, no exceptions. Can you promise me those things?”
Tav put on a rather adorable pout, but relented all the same, “I promise.”
Astarion pulled their face down for a kiss before stepping back and putting the ring on his finger. “Then it's a deal.”
Tav slid their ring on as well and smirked, “Would you have said yes?”
“Said yes to what, Darling?”
“If I had asked you to marry me just now,” their mischievous smile grew, “would you have said yes?”
Astarion flicked their nose to knock that look off their face and marched off to find the others.
* * *
Astarion doesn’t remember falling asleep but it must have happened at some point because the next thing he remembers is waking up to the slightest of shuffling noises. He blinked his eyes open, seeing nothing but crumpled blankets and the faintest glow of a dying fire outside. Only half awake and sensing nothing amiss or lurking nearby, Astarion closed his eyes and shuffled closer to the much warmer body next to him.
“You awake, starlight?” It was a soft whisper from a clearly parched throat, but Astarion would recognize it in a sea of voices. Tav.
Yesterday came flooding back to him in a rush of blood, fear, and guilt. Tav falling, bleeding, lying lifeless in Karlach's arms, then their bedroll. Astarion shot up from Tav’s side, gaping at them with his eyes wide in surprise, “You . . .” He couldn't form a word through all the memories flooding back to him.
“Astarion?” A clawed hand came up to caress his cheek. Their thumb swiped across his cheekbone, “What's wrong?”
“What's . . .” And then he just couldn't take it anymore. “Shut up!” Astarion pushed himself up and away from Tav and the warmth of their shared bedroll. He pulled at his boots preparing to leave the tent when Tav started attempting to follow his lead.
“Love, what is- AGH!” Tav had tried to sit up and reach for Astarion and in doing so put strain on their still unhealed injuries.
“Lay back down, you idiot!” Astarion pushed their shoulders gently back into the pillows. “And don’t you dare try that again.”
Tav grabbed onto Astarion’s forearms while his hands still rested on their shoulders. “Starlight, you’re making me worried.”
“Good.” He pulled his hands out of their grasp and pushed the tent flap open. “Lay there, still as a statue, and worry your foolish head off until I’m back.” He let the tent flap fall closed behind him and marched across the camp. He gave no acknowledgement to Lae'zel who was already awake and performing her rather impressive morning stretches, nor Gale who had just started prep for breakfast. He focused solely on his destination, Shadowheart’s tent.
Without bothering to announce his presence, Astarion lifted the tent flap to see a bleary eyed, bed-headed Shadowheart just beginning to rise from her bedroll.
“Oh good you're awake,” he snarked, “So is that self-destructive idiot. Grab whatever it is you need to do magic and come with me.”
Shadowheart was clearly still not quite fully awake but she nodded all the same, grabbing her Sharran holy symbol and climbing up out of the tent to follow after.
Astarion crossed back over to his own tent with the cleric in tow. He pulled the entrance flap aside and gestured her in with his hand. The two of them didn’t utter another word to each other as Shadowheart entered the tent and Astarion waited outside watching the purple glow of her magic seep through the canvas of the tent walls.
Shadowheart exited shortly after the glowing faded, still looking groggy around the edges. “They’re good as new physically, but they’ll need to rest another day or so before they can see any form of bloodletting or excessive physical activity again.” She looked off over Astarion’s left shoulder as if pondering something. “You might want to know that they asked about you. . . Specifically, they asked if you had been hurt yesterday . . . if you sought healing afterwards.”
“They asked if I was hurt? While they’re laying there barely recovered from their near death experience?!”
Shadowheart nodded firmly, but there was something to how she did that made Astarion think that she expected this would be his reaction and that she had, in fact, hoped for it. “Talk some sense into them, won’t you? None of us want to relive this experience.” She left him there as she went off in pursuit of her breakfast.
Astarion was furious. But also confused. Tav was now alive and mostly well and for some reason he was almost angrier than he had ever been. He made a valiant, half-assed attempt at calming himself down with some deep breaths, before throwing open the tent flap and storming in.
Tav was sitting up, bare-chested but still wrapped in blankets. Astarion’s dramatic re-entry had them looking up at him with their eyes wide. “Astarion, I-”
“No.” Astarion remained standing, despite his head nearly hitting the roof of the tent. “Stop right there. Unless the next words out of your mouth were going to be ‘I’m so sorry for being the biggest idiot in all of Faerun. Please forgive me and take me back. I’ll do anything.’ then I don’t want to hear it.”
Tav’s face suddenly turned devastated, “Are you breaking up with me?”
“What? Why would you think-” Confused how they had come to that thought Astarion ran his words back through his mind. “You idiot, I didn’t mean-” He closed his eyes and took another deep breath in, fists clenched in frustration at his sides. “I am not breaking up with you, but you. . . you promised me.” His voice strained to get the words out, so took a breath and tried again. “You promised me that you wouldn’t let this happen. That you would take care of yourself. And in the span of less than an hour not only did I watch you nearly die in front of me - because of me, but I find out you’ve been sneaking off to see Shadowheart for secret healing rendezvous’? What in the hells were you thinking, Tav?! What if you had died?”
“Starlight-”
“Do not use that name on me right now.”
“. . . Astarion,” Tav made a move to stand but was quickly pushed back down to a sitting position by Astarion.
“Stay. Down. You are still resting.”
Looking equal parts befuddled and distressed, Tav made no more attempts to stand. “Astarion,” They paused again as if expecting another correction. “Astarion, I’m so sorry. I thought I was miles away from my limit and I knew you were still down there near the displacer beast and those bombs I never thought-”
“That’s just it! You never think about these things, Tav! You run face first into protecting others and afterwards it’s always these same excuses.”
“They’re not excuses. Astarion, I can’t lose you.”
“But you think I can handle losing you?!” Astarion felt the tears welling up in his eyes, but he didn’t care. Tav had seen it all already. “You think you can die because of me and I’ll just be okay with it?!” He knelt down in front of them, sitting on his heels and looking at his hands. “If you had died yesterday, it would have been my fault. I couldn’t live with myself if the reason you died was because I was too careless.” His voice had petered off to a soft, somber tone now.
“Oh, Starlight,” Tav had shuffled closer and reached out with both their hands to cup Astarion’s face. They turned his face up to look each other in the eye. Tav had their own tears building in their eyes. “Love, I am so sorry. I never thought. . . I never inten- . . .” Tav took a deep breath, exhaled, and started over. “I told you what happened to the last person I cared about. I can’t stop thinking about it happening again, except this time it’s so much worse because it’s you.”
Astarion pulled their hands away from his face, allowing the bloody tears to drip down over his cheeks. He kept holding on to them, however, and cradled their hands in his lap. “But you see how this is different this time, right? You were barely old enough to be left without adult supervision then. Now we’re both capable adults in our own right who have mastered our respective talents.” He paused before, “I don’t want you to hurt yourself for me. . . or in pursuit of fixing past mistakes which weren’t your fault.”
“I-,” they looked down and away, avoiding Astarion’s eyes, “I’ve been having the nightmares again. . . But the face on the body has changed. It’s you I watch die and me who couldn’t save you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me they were happening again?”
They smiled sheepishly, “I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Yes,” Astarion deadpanned in the driest tone he could muster considering the circumstances, “and I was much less worried when you almost died in my arms. Excellent problem solving, Dear.”
“I’m sorry,” Tav dropped their head down in submission. “I should have told you. I should have kept my promise. . . And I should have trusted you to take care of yourself.”
Astarion studied their hands as their fingers laced and unlaced in his lap. He sighed and brought Tav’s right hand up. “No more rings.” He gently tugged the warding ring off of Tav’s finger, then leaned back to place it next to its pair that Shadowheart had returned last night.. “No more taking each other’s hits. No more hiding our worries and nightmares.” Astarion placed the pads of his pointer and middle finger under Tav’s chin and lifted their face until they had nowhere else to look but directly into his eyes. “We’re a team now. Just because you don’t care what happens to you doesn’t mean no one else does. I care about you. I love you, and as much as it repulses me to say it, this whole bloody camp is your family now. They all care about you too. So don’t you ever,” Astarion gripped their jaw in his hand to yank them closer and emphasize his words, “even think about doing something so stupid ever again. Understand?”
The grip Astarion had on their face made it difficult to form proper words, but Tav nodded their assent.
“Good,” Astarion released his hold on them and reached for the cloth in the wash basin to wipe the drying, coppery tear tracks off his face. “Now lay back down and I’ll go have Gale make you something to eat.”
* * *
Nearly an hour later, long after everyone had woken and Tav had eaten their fill, Astarion lay next to them on his side, head tilted onto their shoulder and dragging his fingers up and down their bare arm. “I’m supposed to have at least another 80 years with you, got that?”
“Yes, Starlight,” Tav was laying flat on their back with their head resting atop Astarion’s, enjoying the soft caresses. “You know, earlier? When you said no more rings?”
“Mhm.”
“That didn’t include wedding rings, right?”
Astarion pinched the arm he’d been coddling, “I’m in love with an idiot.”