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He’d thought you had left him alone to die. Even after all the sweet things he’s said, about how he trusts you, how he knows you will be there for him, he still doubted you when it counted. Captured by vampire hunters, he’d been held in a cage for so long that he’d lost count, or perhaps it was the torture his captors had decided to inflict upon him that had made him lose count. At some point, he had lost all hope of you coming to rescue him, believing himself to be unworthy of the effort needed.
And then you had shown up in all your bloody glory, howling with rage and cutting down any hunter who had stood in your way. He had never been happier to see you again, and never been angrier.
“Where have you been?” He chokes, collapsing into your arms the moment he is free of the accursed cage. You silently hold him tight, gaze downcast. Rage rekindles within you when you see how broken the hunters have made the one you love, and you wish you could bring the hunters back just to make them suffer over and over again.
“I am here now,” you whisper, hoping to comfort him. You should have searched harder, hunted fiercer, found him faster, prevented the whole kidnapping in the first place. It was your naivety that had landed him in this situation, it was all your fault.
“And what good is it to me that you’re here now?” Astarion hates that you’re seeing him with his walls shattered, his broken heart laid bare before you. Self-hatred overtakes him, spewing venom meant for himself at you. The words tear him apart and pierce your heart, shattering it but you still hold onto him. You’ve finally found him after such a long and anxious search, you’re not letting him go any time soon.
“Where were you twenty years ago? Ten years ago? Hells, a hundred years ago?” He cries, clawed fingertips digging into your skin. The fabric of your top crumples beneath his fingers, tears dampening the cloth. His voice breaks, words dissolving into sobs as he buries his face into your chest, wanting nothing more than to disappear, dissolve, be anywhere but here. Yet you hold him close, wrapping him in your warm embrace despite the daggers that have embedded themselves in your heart courtesy of him. You let him vent it all out, giving him the space he never had even though each sob rips at your heart further.
“How dare you,” he whimpers once his tears have sapped him of all his energy, “how dare you come to me now, when I am this?” He hadn’t been the best person back when he was alive, corruption ran deep in the city he was magistrate of perpetuated by his truly, but at least he had been as normal as any elf could be. Now he was a vampire spawn, weaker than true vampires but with the same weaknesses. He had fallen so far down, a slave to both sanguine hunger and Cazador, a creature sealed in darkness lest he be dissolved by the sun, a monster despised by all.
All but you.
You let him weakly hit you, the punches lacking malice as they lightly connect with your skin and sobs continue to wrack his body. Running your fingers through his hair, you pull him as close as you possibly can and rest his head on your shoulder.
“I wish you had never come.” The words leave his lips in a whisper. The words he never meant, the words he wished he could take back the moment he spoke them, the words that hurt the most. You flinch at the words but tell yourself that he doesn’t mean it, that the words just slipped out on accident, that it was the self-loathing and trauma that spun these words, right?
“Why did you come now?”
You feel him go limp in your arms, slipping into unconciousness as exhaustion takes hold of him. As Halsin moves to carry him back to camp, you reach up and touch something wet on your face. Tears. Something catches in your throat and you tell your companions to head back to camp first, you’ll catch up with them later. Despite the looks of concern, they do as you say at Jaheira’s behest, the older woman knowing that you needed some space.
You mindlessly walk in the opposite direction of the camp, the warmth of the sun a distant feeling despite it blazing high in the sky. Numbness envelopes your body, sending chills down your spine but nothing can overpower the pain in your heart. His words have cut deep, even if you try to convince yourself otherwise and the freshness of the air that you usually enjoy does nothing to alleviate the hurt.
With a sigh, you collapse against a tree trunk, sucking in a deep breath at the twinge of pain that shoots up your side. Shit. Blood has soaked through your tunic on your left side and lifting up the cloth reveals a nasty gash courtesy of a rogue’s dagger. You let out a ragged breath, chest heaving as you rip your tunic off and press the cloth against the wound, hoping to staunch the bleeding before you die of blood loss. White hot pain shoots through you the moment the cloth makes contact and you bite your lip to suppress the yelp, willing yourself to remain strong until you can stagger back to camp and get the wound healed. Knocking back the last healing potion in your pack, you force yourself to stand once more, limping in the direction of camp and past the concerned stares of your companions straight into your tent where you collapse once more, this time unable to bite back a cry of pain when the action tears at your wound. You down more healing potions, a groan of relief escaping your lips as you feel the wound stitching itself together, your body feeling lighter with each mouthful.
Shadowheart peers into your tent but you wave her away, muttering something about wanting some space and she obliges, but leaves a few more healing potions behind just in case. You tuck yourself into your bed roll, something you haven’t done in quite a while now ever since Astarion took it upon himself to be the one to make you comfortable, and the thought sends another twang of sadness through your heart.
Did he want you back? You wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t, it was your fault after all that he got kidnapped. You had been the childish one, yelling at him to get out of your sight after he had been trying to get you to take a break, going as far as to push him out of your tent physically and slamming the tent flap shut, completely missing the flash of hurt in his eyes. The next time you had left your tent, wanting to apologise, Wyll informed you that Astarion left the camp some time ago and had yet to return, panic setting in when Gale pointed out Astarion had disappeared for half a day. You were the one who had driven him away first, it was only fair that he returned the favour.
Pulling the blanket over your head, you bury yourself in the darkness, tears pricking the edges of your eyes again. You had hurt him, perhaps more than he had hurt you, made worse by your prior promise to never hurt him. He didn’t deserve you, he deserved someone who could perfectly love him, cherish him, give him everything he needed and more.
“Y/N?” A quiet voice calls out but you remain still. You recognise the voice, why was he here?
“I know you’re there, darling. You can’t hide from me that easily.” His voice is louder now, coming from next to your bedroll but you stubbornly remain where you are. You hear a shuffling sound and something impacts the ground — he probably seated himself on the ground.
“I…I wanted to say that I’m…I’m sorry.” The words feel like thorns in his throat but he forces them out anyways. He knows he has to, Karlach had encouraged him to in all her usual enthusiasm and had filled him in on what he had missed while unconscious. His immediate reaction was to check up on you from a distance, but Karlach had pushed him towards your tent, giving him a thumbs up which pressured him into going in.
You keep silent, mind struggling to form a sentence as he pours everything out to you once more, carefully lowering his walls to let you in again.
“I know I said things that hurt you, and I should not have said any of it. You rescued me, even though I thought you would never come for me and I pushed you away instead of thanking you.” He pauses, taking a deep breath he doesn’t need. “You deserve better.”
“You’re the one who deserves better.”
Astarion blinks, sitting up straight as you shift, getting out of the bed roll.
“You’re the one who deserves better,” you repeat, unable to meet his ruby gaze. “I was the reason you were kidnapped in the first place, if I hadn’t snapped at you, shouted at you, driven you away, you would never have left the camp, the hunters would never have found you and —”
“It’s not your fault.” He places a finger on your lips, eyebrows furrowed.
“But it is!” You push his finger away. “I hurt you just as much, no, more than you words ever hurt me because I promised to never hurt you! Yet I did!”
“You didn’t mean to.”
“It doesn’t excuse anything! Stop taking everything just because you don’t want to lose this relationship!”
“But I don’t!” He yells back. “I don’t want to lose this! I don’t want to lose whatever we have!”
“I don’t want to lose you.” His voice cracks as he stumbles over the words that shut you up. “If…if you don’t want me anymore I will —”
“When did I ever say that. You’re my entire world, why would I not want you?” You cut him off. He raises an eyebrow at you, searching for hints of deception but all he sees is genuineness, a fierce love for him burning within you and above all, a deep yearning for him and nothing else.
You move closer to him, cautiously reaching out with a hand that he clasps in his cold undead ones and you can’t help but smile. This brought back memories — the first time you ever hugged him, the first time he ever felt a physical touch that wasn’t sex or abuse. He puts an uncertain arm around your waist, waiting for you to do something and you lean into his touch, putting your own arms around his waist, hand holding long forgotten in place of hugging him. He pulls you in, nuzzling you and lets out a small sigh of relief.
He didn’t lose you. You’re still here. You still want him.
As much as you are his light in the darkness, he is your guiding beacon. He is the reason you continue pushing on each and every day, and you want him to know that. Tilting your head up, you meet his lips with your own, a sweet gesture that never grows old and conveys everything in your heart. He kisses back, fingers tangling in your hair and revels in the moment, wishing it would never end but alas, you need to breathe.
“I love you.” It’s the first time you’ve said those words to him.
“I love you too.” It’s not the last time he’ll say those words back.