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You were decidedly not the leader type.
Timid, too quiet, overly sensitive. Such are the common themes in how others have always described you. You didn’t think that there should be anything shameful in sensitivity or preferring to listen than speak, and yet those descriptors were spoken with such disappointment and judgment that you felt yourself shrink. Rather than encouraging you to be bold and outgoing, you fell further into yourself until you believed it might be easier to just be invisible.
So as you somehow find yourself at the head of a rapidly increasing group of strangers plagued with the same ill-fate as you, it should go without saying that you are out of your depth. It had started so gradually you hardly noticed until it was too late. What first began as simply trying to settle differences between Shadowheart and Lae’zel turned into authority unspokenly designated to you as Astarion joined the group.
As the four of you made camp on the first night, you reasoned with yourself that it was a manageable group size. Compromise and fair discussions should be possible so that the group can make decisions together rather than just leaving them up to you. And yet, there was no denying that your new acquaintances were not going to easily find themselves on the same page.
The next morning brought a new face to the group which elicited both instant comfort and yet an increasing sense of pressure. Gale was the first friendly face you had encountered, and you were drawn to him instantly by the warmth of his greeting and sincere brown eyes. You couldn’t help but marvel at his good-nature and optimism despite the life-threatening conditions you both shared.
He was an eager and helpful addition to the party, and you found yourself valuing his input whenever he had insight to offer. Some decisions seemed so clear with him by your side, aided by the fact that you seemed to hold similar values. With Gale’s genuine expressions of approval, you felt assured of a reliable companion. Naturally, you readily helped Gale once he voiced a need for magical artifacts and the two of you only grew closer in mutual trust and reliance. However, you knew that there would be harder choices to make beyond the Grove. And with the more recent additions of Wyll and Karlach to the group the weight of responsibility placed on your shoulders became suffocating.
Often, dinner around the campfire would result in heated discussions regarding the best courses of action and decisions to be made. Very rarely did you raise anything at these times, preferring to listen to all offered viewpoints. They quickly learned not to prompt you for your opinion, your mind grinding to a halt as all eyes turned towards you. With a mind buzzing with differing perspectives and arguments, you would afterwards retreat to your tent or the riverbank to consider all the options, even long after everyone else had begun to rest.
On some nights your attention was drawn by a faint glowing light illuminating Gale’s tent, suggesting perhaps that the wizard found himself lost in some new book picked up along the journey. You secretly longed to join him and discover what volume had him so enthralled. For sleep to find you as you listened to his hushed voice reading the words aloud for you, rather than while endlessly turning around possible choices to be made the next day. But you would inevitably talk yourself out of it, any courage brought on from deep-seated longing thoroughly stamped out by reasoning of your own fabrication.
—
In the evening after Gale revealed the true nature of his affliction, some members of the party were less than pleased at your decision to allow him to stay and vocalized as much. It had been an instant choice on your part, needing not a moment of reflection. Though you have known him for only a short while, the trust and care you held for him left no room for doubt. Beyond such personal explanations, each member of the party knew that you all only stood a chance if you remained united.
Even now you could recall with clarity his pained expression as he allowed you to see his self-declared folly, the depth of sorrow in his eyes as he held your hand near his heart and revealed the anguish hidden there. Always so desperate to be useful. And it seemed so obvious now as to why he wanted to help in any way possible. His fear of rejection, of being cast out, was as plain as the guilt pooled in his eyes.
You had fought back the tears then, for his sake. Though in truth you could have knelt down with him and wrapped him in your arms as best as you were able. You were never very good at comforting, never certain if a hug was welcome or not. So instead your arms wrapped around yourself, trying to find stability after the shock of his revelation to you. But now, hearing the others murmuring that perhaps allowing him to stay was an irresponsible choice, tears prick your eyes once more and your throat tightens. You quietly excused yourself with what you hoped to be a measured expression, the group more than accustomed to your habit of withdrawing to be alone.
Your hasty retreat to the riverside took you past Gale's tent. Undoubtedly he would have been aware of the hushed dissent passing around the campfire, and yet seemed determined to appear untroubled as he read outside.
Not too long after finding a moment’s peace in your favourite spot, you are unsurprised by a gentle hand on your shoulder accompanied by a warm inquiry. He had found you here before, after all.
“Are you alright?” Familiar, by now.
You attempt a smile as he finds his spot beside you. “I could ask you the same thing.”
A small exhaled hum is all the response that comes, leaving room for a thoughtful silence to settle between you.
Your mind wanders to the first time he found you here alone with your thoughts. He had been searching for somewhere quiet to read, but didn’t want to impede upon your solitude. Where normally you would be grateful for such an offer, truly desiring to find a moment to yourself, you found yourself offering for him to join you. As much as you love to listen to him talk, you were equally delighted to find that you could share in a comfortable quietude.
You are the one to ultimately dispel the hushed moment, your hesitant admission competing only with the river’s babbling and soft chirping of the crickets.
“Some of them think I’m wrong, to want you to stay. And given that I’m not the most confident among us, I’m not surprised if they don’t trust me to make decisions. But…”
You risk meeting his eyes, almost regretting it as you’re met with an overwhelming array of emotions filling his gaze. The intensity with which he considers your admission, seemingly holding his breath as he awaits its completion, is almost enough to derail your thought-process entirely. You avert your eyes though keeping your gaze near, urging yourself to press on.
“But this is one of the few choices so far that I’ve been entirely sure of.”
The relief he expressed earlier that day returned, though perhaps somewhat more subdued and paired with something more personal and harder to decipher. Gratitude? Affection? And yet the faintest sign of disbelief lingered. For all his earlier enthusiastic thanks to you, the look in his eyes now was so sincere and vulnerable that you really are in danger of crying all over again.
But then his warm hand finds your own, so assuring and grounding that the tension between your knitted eyebrows softens almost instantly.
“I meant what I said before, Tav. In witnessing your conduct thus far I have grown to trust you whole-heartedly. And how fortunate I am that your wisdom and generosity has extended to me. Even if Lae’zel and Astarion may think otherwise.”
He turns to face you more fully then, both hands clinging to yours almost in a desperate plea. His eyes seek yours as his voice lowers, hushed as though revealing a precious secret. A matter of great magnitude.
“I promise I will not betray your faith in me. Even if I can scarcely believe I have it, how unearned I fear it must be.”
Such different lives you both had led, perhaps a result of what might appear on the surface to be almost opposite personalities. Yet as you sit here face-to-face, each finding your own insecurity mirrored in the other, the trust you place in him reflects right back to yourself.
You huff an incredulous laugh and the tears fall at last, freely and with immense relief. One hand releases yours to hover over your cheek, stopped abruptly by hesitation on its path to wiping them. Stuttering concern that he might have offended you spills from his lips, so endearing and clumsy that you almost laugh properly this time.
“Sorry Gale, really I’m fine.” You say it with a sheepish smile, opting to wipe the tears yourself.
You intertwine your fingers with his hand that remained in yours, almost entirely forgotten in his brief panic, and focus your gaze out to the soft moonlight reflected on the river.
“Thank you, by the way. And you’ve more than earned it, Gale. Truly.”
Peace settles over you once again as his hand tightens in yours, each of you silently glowing in the comfort of having someone who believes in you.