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“I swear those vines are going to be the death of me.” Axael muttered as his leg got tangled in some sort of underworldly vine for the third time that day. Their little group had finally reached the Arcane Tower in the Underdark, slowly descending through a mushroom path in hopes of getting in and retrieving some other mushrooms.
“Be more careful where you step, then.” Wyll answered before he cut the appendage that had attached itself to the bard, also extending a hand to him to stabilize him.
They had decided to get divided in two teams: the first would go get rid of the Duergar invasion by the lake around the myconid Colony, while the others would try to inspect the tower, and, hopefully, find the mushrooms Omeluum had talked about. Initially, it should have been Shadowheart in the latter team, instead of Astarion, so the most magically inclined of them could all inspect the arcane tower together, but it had been argued that the fighting team would absolutely need a healer, and that Astarion would probably be needed to pick locks on the way.
Which was how he had ended up with Gale, Wyll and Axael in an all men mission to go mushroom picking for a mindflayer. That fact alone was infuriating, but what had really been dampening Astarion’s mood were his own distractions.
Firstly, the issue of hunger, which had been annoying ever since they had set foot in the Underdark. He had noticed, after some time, that the optimal solution for him was to feed from one of his companions, and then take some animal blood to complete his meal. Even after a few days without humanoid blood, animal blood was still filling, and he could go on about his day without worrying too much about it. But there wasn’t a lot of animals in these parts.
Secondly, he kept thinking about the night before, when he had spent a good twenty minutes in company of the bard, describing the night sky to the blind man. The moment he had realized he was getting way too attached to him. What had started as a way to gain protection was slowly developing into real feelings, and that revelation had been way too distracting.
So there he had been for the last two minutes, trying to pick a lock that should have taken him less than twenty seconds to unlock. Besides, Wyll’s behavior had been especially annoying that day; playing the hero every time Axael got caught up in vines (which happened more often than not, honestly), or simply throwing unwelcome comments to Astarion about his ‘rat diet’.
After another two minutes of useless efforts, he sighed and gripped the handle of the door to get some leverage to get up…and the door opened. Maybe he had been so inattentive that he hadn’t even noticed that the door in was already unlocked in the first place…
“Where would we be without you, Astarion, I wonder…” Wyll deadpanned while Gale was trying not to laugh behind him.
“Oh, I believe you would be six feet under the dirt right now.” He retorted arrogantly. “If I hadn’t be here to save your horns when you dived in that house fire…”
Well, maybe Wyll had an excuse for that one, after all, his father was supposed to be trapped in said house fire, but he had been stupid enough to open a door under pressure, and Astarion had been quite badly burned when he pulled him in extremis from the blast radius.
“And I am still grateful that you did,” the devil answered with a small bow of the head, “I was merely joking, my friend.” He lightly pat his shoulder when he passed beside him to get in the tower, too fast to see the expression of disgust on Astarion’s face when he touched him. Gale followed, fascinated, quoting this or that book he read decades ago about whatever mushroom he was looking at.
“Are you alright?” Astarion turned towards Axael, who was looking at him with concern, “You seem distracted.”
“Are you concerned I won’t be efficient enough for the team?” He asked, maybe a little dryer than he meant it to be, but he had been on edge ever since the beginning of the day.
Fortunately, Axael wasn’t the kind to take it personally. “No, I couldn’t care less about your ‘efficiency’, but if you’re feeling unwell, maybe you should go back?” He made a hesitant gesture, as if wanting to reach for Astarion, before eventually giving up. “I’m just worried about you.”
At those words, Astarion felt something stir inside of him, as if a long dead part of him was trying to go back to life, a dying ember being teased by a bellows. He smiled, carefully taking the bard’s hand, which immediately started fidgeting with his own. “You’re sweet, but I’m fine.” He sighed, avoiding Axael’s gaze, despite it being artificial, and focused on the movement of their entwined fingers. “I just have a lot on my mind.” he admitted.
“You could even say you have a lot in your mind these days…” He said with a shy smile.
“Oh, I bet you’re proud of this one, aren’t you?” Astarion got answered by a light chuckle. “Speaking of our dear parasites, this new eye Volo gave you after his...tentative to relieve you of it’s weight, can you even see out of it?”
He shrugged. “No, I know it’s enchanted, but I can’t see anything with it…” He reached for his eye, feeling it over his eyelid before Astarion had a chance to stop him.. “I don’t know if there’s a command word, or if you need another functioning eye to see out of it, or something, but no, I can’t see anything with it.”
“Pity.” Astarion took back his hand in his own, preventing the bard from scratching at it again. “I’ve seen you picking at itquite a lot. Does it still hurt?
“Only a little, thanks to Shadowheart,” Axael walked past him and into the tower, trying to stay out of earshot from the two others. “But it’s uncomfortable. You’re supposed to have them made custom, you know, this one is too small, it itches…”
Oh, Astarion simply couldn’t resist that one. “What, is Volo’s ball too small for your hole?” Astarion asked with a smirk, jumping on the occasion.
Axael made a disgusted face at the salacious comment. “Oh, fuck you!” He answered with a smile that was a little too bright to convey any real anger.
“Is it not lubricated enough?” Wyll added, apparently having overheard some part of their conversation.
“Stop it, both of you.”
“You could try putting it in more slowly, next time.” Gale continued, making what was supposed to be a private conversation a challenge of who would be the most lewd.
“You know what, you’re insufferable. All of you.” He pointed an accusatory finger into each of their directions. “And you should focus, we have mushrooms to find.”
“Spoilsport.” Astarion muttered. “What are we even supposed to find, again? Tongue of Madness and…?”
“Timmask Sp-” Axael suddenly yelped, interrupting himself. “Never mind, I think I found it.”Astarion looked at him, somewhere between concern and curiosity, and sighed in relief when he saw that his friend had simply been covered in spores. He was currently spitting what little powder had been sprung into his mouth by the mushroom in front of which he had been kneeling.
He took a few seconds to regain his composure, shaking the effects of the mushroom while Astarion knelt down next to him, carefully collecting what they needed. He helped the bard up, making sure he wouldn’t sway as he got to his feet, and swiftly helped him dust his clothes.
“Wyll was right, you should be more careful where you step.” He teased him lightly as they joined the two others, who had found the other mushroom they needed in the meantime. “Can we go back, now? I think I’ve had enough of this gloomy tower.”
“But we’ve barely had time to explore!” Gale babbled. “I believe the last resident of this tower was a cleric of Mystra,there should be valuable things in this tower!” Astarion groaned at that, knowing very well that none of them would be able to resist the appeal of the possible loot.
Besides, it wasn’t like they weren’t in here to explore anyway…He silently prayed for the tower to be otherwise empty to whoever would be listening (so, not a lot of people, according to his own experience).
And so, they made their way down again, using a feather fall spell to prevent them from crashing down. Wyll jumped down first, helping the others as they followed him down. Gale immediately went ahead, investigating a glowing tree in front of the tower, while Astarion stayed a little behind, pretending not to notice the way Wyll almost twirled Axael in his arms when he landed.
“Since when am I allowed the princess treatment with him?” The tiefling asked when he got close enough to Astarion, and Wyll had been taken aside by a very enthusiastic Gale. He hugged himself, as if trying to shake the feeling of the contact. “I thought it was obvious that very little of my flirting is serious…”
“Have you told him so explicitly?”Astarion inquired, “Maybe he just feels sympathy for you ever since Volo’s little...experiment, you know, like a kinship between you visually impaired people.” He added with a mischievous smile.
“Yeah, fuck you too.” He muttered, before slowly making his way to the tree. But the thing with tieflings, is that their tails are an excellent mood indicator. Some would notice the obvious movement that his tail was making in amusement, butAstarion also caught how close to the ground it was, conveying a certain state of exhaustion.
It was subtle, but now that Astarion was aware of it, he noticed his hunched position, as well as the slight shaking of his hands. Obviously he was hiding it well, and it made Astarion wonder how long he had been in that state.
“A sussur tree!” Of course, Gale couldn’t find any other way to get him out of his thoughts than loudly explaining every single property the tree possessed. “You see, a single sussur bloom can be an incredible power source, and would be enough to snuff out the-” He got interrupted by a yelp coming from the tree, as Axael suddenly dropped the glowing flower he had just picked up. “-would be enough to snuff out the magic of an entire army, among other things. It seems curiosity killed the cat.”
“Curiosity made the cat blinder than he already was,” he picked the flower up again, studying it by feeling the ridges of the petals. “I can’t see shit.” He kept on feeling the flower, intrigued, before replacing it on the ground with a shaky hand, and huffed a sigh of relief when he stepped out of the field of effect of the flower. “But we found some blueprints in that village that mentioned sussur bark, right?”
Wyll and Gale immediately turned their gaze towards Astarion, who sighed, and took his dagger out. “I get it, I don’t rely on magic as much as you do, I will take it.” He ended up cutting a piece of bark that almost didn’t fit into his pack, and he got worried for a moment that this would get encumbering, but it ended up being more manageable than he had anticipated.
“Our hero.” Gale said excitedly when Astarion exited the anti magic aura of the tree, patting his back a little too familiarly for his tastes. “Could our hero also unlock the door of the tower, while he’s at it?”
He sighed, but took the lead nonetheless. He knelt in front of the door, took a deep breath, put his tools in position, and this time managed to unlock the door in the first try. “Where would you be without me indeed.” He said proudly as he got back up, eyeing the little group as he gestured towards the door, inviting them to enter.
Wyll made his way into the tower, clasping an encouraging hand on Astarion’s shoulder. Seriously, had they all agreed to get in his nerves that day? Gale followed suit, and Astarion shot him a dirty look to dissuade him from trying to touch him again. On the other hand, when Axael walked past him, he was the one to put a hand on the tiefling’s shoulder, preventing him from going into the tower.
“Not your day, is it?” He asked while pointing at the slight tremor in his hands that had worsened since he had touched the flower.
“I’m fine, just a little tired, I guess.” The tiefling shrugged. “I didn’t get as much sleep as I wanted to last night.”
“Oh, did you miss me that badly?” He teased again as he let go of his arm, allowing them both to walk inside the tower.Immediately, he regretted his words. Given the previous conversations they had had about Astarion’s issues with sex, there was a chance this would become a more serious conversation, and Astarion had reached his quota of the month two days before.
“Believe it or not, I did.” Oh, so he didn’t catch the innuendo. Good. “I tend to sleep better when I’m with someone.” He stopped in his tracks, forcing Astarion to stop behind him. “Which reminds me; did the necklace work?”
Astarion’s hand clasped the silver moon pendent that sat just below his collarbone. “Oh, it worked wonders; the dreams were bordering on boring, but at least, it was good sleep.” He hesitated a few seconds before adding, “Thank you.” Expressing real gratitude was still a little new for him, but it felt good to be given enough to actually be grateful.
“You’re welcome.” He smiled softly, and Astarion felt himself smile in response. And that was bad, wasn’t it? To feel so good just because of a smile? Maybe he should try to distance himself from the bard.
Fortunately, the tower didn’t have any other locks for him to pick, so he didn’t embarrass himself like earlier while his mind was occupied. But the tower exploration lasted forever, and Astarion was more than eager to come back to camp.
But of course things couldn’t be that easy, right? On their way back to the myconid Colony, the ground started to shake under their feet, and even Astarion almost lost his footing, while the others pathetically fell to the ground, leaving him standing alone to face the gigantic bulette that had been tormenting them ever since they set foot in the Underdark.
The fight that followed had been less than gracious, by the time the bulette retreated, each of them had been injured, Wyll had went down two times, and Gale had managed to miss the creature so many times that Astarion was almost sure he had been doing it on purpose. They sat down a moment, tending to their wounds, as Axael played a soothing music to appease the pain, leaving him exhausted and still injured when he used up everything he had for the others.
“Just take the damn potion, Axael.” Wyll was almost fighting for him to take their last healing potion, arguing that they could always find a trader somewhere, and that they needed him to be able to walk properly if they got surprised again.His leg had been nastily injured during the fight, and Astarion didn’t even shot a single look at it, a little too scared to lose control because of the hunger at the sight of it.
Reluctantly, he drank the potion, allowing his leg to heal enough to at least allow him to carry his own weight back to camp. “And here goes our last one...happy?” The tiefling slowly got up, testing his leg, and wincing as his foot made contact with the ground. “I told you it wouldn’t be strong enough to make a difference…” he muttered before limping towards Astarion. “Will you give me a hand?”
Astarion huffed a breath. “That’s what you get for being too altruistic, darling.” He got up, and put Axael’s arm over his neck, supporting some part of his weight. “Why did you insist on healing us first when you were injured too, you idiot?”
“Because,” They started walking again, Wyll a few feet ahead of them, and Gale behind them to cover their procession. “We magic users are suffering a huge disadvantage because of the tadpoles, it’s like we have to learn it all over again. I’m used to being much more potent with my healing, and I may have overestimated my current capacities.”
Astarion playfully rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure it’s all the tadpole’s doing,” He slid a hand around Axael’s waist, Just to support him better, he told himself. “And absolutely not because you didn’t sleep last night.”
“Gne gne gne didn’t sleep last night, you know what?" And he probably kept on talking for a while, but Astarion got distracted by the ever so present scent of blood emanating from his companion. He focused his gaze in front of him, watching for eventual rocks or mushrooms that would make him lose his footing. He managed to prevent them both from being snatched by yet another inhospitable vine, and they safely got back to their camping site amidst the mushroompeople.
“Now, we only need to give the mushrooms to Omeluum, and hopefully we’re cured.” Wyll said, and Axael made a move to follow in his direction, but Astarion immediately stopped him from doing so by tightening his hold on his waist.
“Good idea, we will see if Shadowheart can do anything for this one while you do so.” He hastily shoved the Timmask he had harvested earlier into Wyll’s palm. “Good luck with that potion, darlings.” He turned back in direction of Shadowheart’s tent, dragging the injured man with him.
“Since when am I allowed princess treatment with you?” He smirked widely at the vampire. “First, you dust my clothes when I get covered in spores, then you make sure I’m alright, then you almost carry me back to camp, and now, you make sure I get my wounds taken care of, what’s wrong with you today?”
Astarion was very tempted to “accidentally” nudge his injured leg to make him shut up. “You barely weight anything, it was easy. Just because I appreciate you a little more than the others doesn’t mean you’ll get a different treatment, darling.”
Axael seemed taken aback by his statement. “You appreciate me more than the others? Genuinely?”
“Don’t tell me you are actually surprised?” He felt Axael attempt to shrug against him, the uncertainty on his face emphasized by the high contrast of slightly reddened his skin against the soft blue light emerging from the mushrooms. “You are the only one I actually appreciate, aside from Shadowheart.”
The only reason he had started to grow close to the half elf in the first place had been her strong opinions and personality, but they eventually started to bond over bottles of wine during the late evenings; of course he was genuinely fond of her!
“It wouldn’t be the first time you tried to manipulate me, only this time…” The cleric was in Astarion’s field of view, now, she started walking towards them as she saw them approach. “Well, this time, I’m not sure I can trust myself to catch it if you lie.”
Astarion felt a pang of guilt at his words. The tiefling party had been a disaster for the both of them, but especially for Astarion, who had had to take a very long and very exhausting walk into the woods to calm down and understand when this had all gotten out of hand.
Losing control had been his number one fear that night, and meeting that fear had resulted in a terrible outcome, in the end. He knew he technically wasn’t really to blame here, but hells, he still felt guilty about it.
What was there for him to feel guilty anyway? He knew, technically, that he was free, and had no obligation to please Axael the way he had the last two hundred years, but the two centuries of abuse lingered within him.
Maybe the worst part was that he was still desperately looking for any form of contact with the bard. After being sent to retrieve “prey” for Cazador every single night for so long, finally being allowed to have someone touch him with a purpose other than seduction had been cathartic, and he only wanted more of it.
So much for trying to start to distance himself…
“Oh please, tell me he’s limping because he’s got pins and needles and not because he’s injured…” Shadowheart pleaded as she met them, moving a few meters away from her tent to get more comfortable.
“Sugar, my pant leg is more soaked than a virgin on her wedding day, and I’m pretty sure it’s oozing from a wound.” With Astarion’s help, the bard carefully lowered himself on the floor, sitting down in front of the healer and exposing his leg. Now that Astarion got a closer look at the deep cut, he couldn’t stop staring at it. “Also, we don’t have any healing potions anymore, we’re gonna have to restock on those.”
Shadowheart sighed. “Please tell me you at least managed to find those mushrooms, since you obviously didn’t manage to find a cure for your lack of common sense.” She eyed his injury with an expression of pure judgment. She turned to Astarion as she let her hands hover over the area, allowing the healing magic to flow from her fingers to soothe the wound. “Let me guess, you seem healthy as ever, so I suppose he prioritized your healing over his, and now, he’s tapped out.”
“Oh absolutely.” Astarion agreed with a grin, forcing his gaze away from the blood to look at Shadowheart.
“Am I really that predictable?” The bard muttered under his breath.
“Yes,” Shadowheart finished her spell, leaving Axael’s leg as good as new, and got up, “now stay here, I need to take some supplies, I’d like to take a look at your eye.”The cleric looked at Astarion “Make sure he doesn’t run away.” With that, she entered her tent, leaving them alone again.
Astarion sat beside his friend, trying not to stare at his still bloody leg. “How about I take my rest with you tonight? You know, if you need a presence to sleep correctly, I would not mind, especially if it helps you stay alive afterwards.”
“That’s very sweet of you, but you really don’t have to, you know?” The tiefling bit his lip. “Especially if you feel like you have to in order for me to be operational.”
Astarion rolled his eyes. “I’m asking you because I want to. As your friend, because I am worried about you, and because I could use the company, too.”
“Are you sure?”
“Godsdammit, this isn’t the same context, nor even the same thing as that party two nights ago. Would you like that or not?”
“Yes, but you-”
“Then it’s settled.” He left no room for argument here, just wanting a normal night, with someone who could offer him the presence he needed. For the first time since he could remember, someone actively cared about him, and respected him as a person. Obviously, he wanted to be as close to that form of comfort as possible, no matter the mishaps, no matter if he ended up hurting himself in the process, because surely, nothing could be worse than the last two hundred years.
Even if another part of him wanted to get as far away from it as possible, because he was growing a little to comfortable, and the part of him which did not crave for that vulnerability, the rational part of him was scared of how hard the fall would be if that got taken away from him.
Shadowheart returned, a bowl of medical alcohol in hand, and Astarion took his cue to escape. “I will leave you to your gross eye things,” he got up, making a show of dusting his clothes, “and go read like a civilized person.”
Shadowheart hastily dismissed him with a hand, focusing on Axael, who couldn’t really move without disturbing her anymore.
He had decided to allow himself one last night of comfort before trying to build more solid walls.
---
Astarion’s nails rasped the closed flap of Axael’s tent, trying to get permission to enter. He got answered with a quiet groan, a barely audible “come in” that Astarion immediately obeyed, still taking the time to tie the flap in its original position before turning towards his companion.
He was curled up in a ball, facing away from Astarion, and lifted the blanket that had been covering him to invite him to lay down behind him. “I’m warning you,” he said in a slurred voice, “I’m not moving.” Astarion couldn’t help but notice that Axael, who was always getting shirtless as soon as he had an occasion to do so, had decided to keep himself covered for the evening. He didn’t quite know what to make of that.
Despite Axael’s obvious state of exhaustion, thanks to his enhanced vampiric hearing, Astarion could hear his heartbeat, which was normal for an awaken person, and too high for someone who sounded on the verge of falling asleep. “You’re a good actor, love, but you won’t fool me that easily,” he said as got down next to him, “I know you’re not half as asleep as you pretend.”
Axael sighed. “Well, can you blame me for trying? Maybe, if I can fool you into thinking I’m falling asleep, I can also convince my body of the same thing.”
“You’re still shaking.”
“And I still can’t sleep, so, if you please…”
“Oh, no, you’re not escaping that easily, I still have my question of the day, remember?” He felt Axael tensing in front of him. He almost backed out. Almost. “Why is it that you always come to me for help when Wyll is already head over heels for you, and is more than eager to help?”
“You want to know about-? Alright, I’m not complaining.” From where he was, he could hear his heartbeat slow a little in relief. “I can’t give Wyll what he wants. What he wants is an honest, and passionate romance, and I can’t offer him that, so I’m trying to take some distance to make sure he doesn’t try to pursue me with too high hopes..” Maybe it’s not Wyll you should worry about, then, he thought, in the back of his mind. “Besides, I mean, sure, he’s nice, but I don’t feel any kind of kinship towards him. I would need a connection, a spark, and I have no such thing for him. I’m not interested.”
“What about me, then? You keep coming to me specifically. Why is that? Do you believe you can give me what I want?”
“I don’t know what you want, because it’s up to you to decide it, but I’m pretty sure a ‘proper romance, one the bards would sing about’ is off the table with you.” Axael stayed curled up on his side, still facing away from Astarion, but his tail wrapped itself around Astarion’s calf, a most likely unconscious gesture. “I don’t know what you want, and I don’t know if I can offer it to you, but I like to think I understand you. Parts of you, anyway.”
Astarion slid his arm under the covers, hesitantly placing it around his waist. The tiefling tensed for a moment, but quickly relaxed in his loose hold. “And what do you want? What is ‘on the table’ with you?” he asked quietly as he brought himself closer to the other man.
“I...I don’t know. It’s not really relevant, is it?”Axael murmured in response, curling up further on himself. “Sleep, Astarion.”
You’re just as fucked up as I am, aren’t you?
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(Also a reason for the delay : I finally finished my illustration of Axael, here if you're interested :D)