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“Dinner,” Tav whispered, eyeing the pack of boars across the moonlit lake. A breeze stirred the nearby reeds, and a flock of bats took off in a flurry of wings, making Astarion jump beside her.
Tav rolled her eyes as she crouched low in the underbrush. “Come on,” she whispered, moving forward. She took a glance at the water separating them from their meal. It wasn’t that wide; she could definitely cross it.
Astarion squinted. “A pity they chose such an inconvenient location to settle.”
Tav was barely listening as she tugged off her boots, not wanting to get blisters again from walking in sopping socks. Her cloak hit the ground next, followed by her tunic. She wore just her trousers and undershirt as she approached the bank.
Icy water met her toes, and she hissed once. But coldness was easy to get used to, and she was far too used to it. She expected to hear Astarion’s clothes hit the ground, or perhaps a snarky comment on her form. But nothing.
Tav finished crossing the river, and when she stepped on a twig, the snap pierced the air. The herd of boars looked up and then raced away, kicking up dirt as they fled.
“Great,” Tav muttered, straightening. She looked over her shoulder, expecting to see the vampire grinning at her misfortune or scolding her.
But he was still across the river. And his eyes were on the water, not even noticing their disappearing dinner.
“Astarion?” she called, amused at first. “Don’t want to get your leather pants wet?”
That earned her a glance and a scoff. He rolled his shoulders and admired his nails. “Precisely, darling.”
Tav took another lingering glance at the last traces of the boars off in the distance, and then back to Astarion. She saw his fingers tremble. Something didn’t seem right. She tried to think why he wouldn’t want to cross the river.
Then she remembered. Vampires couldn’t cross running water. But…the sun no longer harmed him. Could this?
Tav took a slight breath and waded back into the icy water. Once on land, she reached into her pack and pulled out a bar of soap. “We might as well clean ourselves.”
He looked at her sharply. "I'm far too elegant to flail around like a dying fish."
“Have you only been bathing from buckets?”
“For the last two hundred years? Yes.”
She almost flinched at the admission. “Have you not tried it?”
Astarion tensed, then relaxed, like he knew he was showing too much emotion. But he didn’t say anything.
She tried to ease him. “It’s just a lake, Astarion.”
He gave her a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes, well. ‘Just a lake’ used to mean something very different to me.”
“Do you want to try?”
He blinked, the haunting sculpt of his face showing the grace of a pensive statue. “Alright.”
He shrugged out of his trousers in a way only a graceful devil could. He even folded his shirt over his pants and placed them neatly on a log before looking at the water’s edge hesitantly.
“We don’t have to,” she said gently, slipping out of her clothes, until she matched him.
“And let you get all the glory of spearing dinner yourself? Not a chance.”
Tav shrugged. “Dinner fled.” She lifted her arm. “Take my hand.”
He did, fingers gently grasping hers with the grace of a different time. He moved like a gentleman—a sophisticated aristocrat. They stepped into the water, and he didn’t flinch at the cold, but his eyes widened. They took another step. Nothing happened.
His eyes flicked to hers. Wide. Young, somehow.
“See?” she said, smiling. “Nothing to fear.”
His other hand touched the water’s surface, tentative and curious, like he didn’t quite believe it was real.
“I wouldn’t say nothing,” he murmured, letting go of her hand and becoming stoic once again. “You did just strip in front of a man with notoriously little self-control.”
She rolled her eyes. “You haven’t tried to bed me yet.”
“Heavy on the ‘yet’, darling.”
“Why do you do that?” she asked, taking a step back.
“Do what?” He tilted his head. “Look irresistible? I assure you, it’s entirely unintentional.”
“You dodge. Every time something gets real, you start deflecting. Especially when I speak with you. You do it to the others too, but mostly me.”
A ripple passed between them, water or words, it was hard to tell.
He waded a little deeper, until he was almost level with her, the lake lapping at his ribs. “So it is to be a cross-examination. Do be gentle, I’ve yet to prepare my opening remarks.”
“I’m not interrogating you.”
“Oh, but I do adore an interrogation. Let’s make a game of it, shall we?” He grinned, all teeth and mischief. “Go on, ask your questions, Counselor. I’ll answer, unless, of course, I object.”
Tav felt out of her depth. She wasn’t smart like him, and she knew it. He had been a magistrate, someone who had spent countless nights poring over evidence and intellectual texts. Meanwhile, she had barely read a handful of books in her life. Her world had always been the road: hard work and manual labor. Her brother was the smart one, after all.
But she wanted to get to know Astarion, so she sighed through her nose and played along. “Fine. Question one: Why did you follow me into the water if you were uncomfortable?”
“Leading the witness.” He clicked his tongue. “Assumes facts not in evidence. I was… hesitant. Not uncomfortable.”
“You were shaking.”
“Only slightly. I assure you, it was more from the view than the water.” He stepped closer, making her back further into deeper waters. He gave her a pointed once-over, eyes gleaming, the flirtation sharp as ever. But she didn’t blush. She didn’t glance away.
“Question two,” he said. “Why do you insist on undressing in front of a man known for morally questionable behavior?”
“You keep saying that. But you’ve never actually crossed a line.” The waterline met her breasts.
“Oh, don’t grow too comfortable. The night is still young, and so is my restraint.”
He waded a lazy circle around her now, one finger dragging through the water like ink across parchment. “Consider this your cross-examination. And I, your humble witness. Or perhaps… your defendant.”
“Are you guilty?”
He stopped behind her. Close. His breath ghosted against her ear. “Of desiring you? Obsessively. Unrelentingly. In ways that would scandalize every courtroom in Faerûn.”
Her skin pebbled, but she knew it was all a game. “Then stop acting like this is a trial,” she said. “You’re not here to prove anything.”
“A trial? Oh, darling. You wouldn’t last the trial. This is only pretend.”
“You mean to say you are not turning on the charm to distract me?”
“You see too much,” he said, clicking his tongue. “Has a man never desired you simply for yourself? Must we, men, always want something so scandalous in return?”
Tav’s stomach turned, but she refused to show weakness.
And then the full force of him stepped back in front of her. His hands skimmed the water before rising to her arms, ghosting over her skin. He trailed his fingers from wrist to shoulder, like he had all the time in the world to worship her and was simply deciding where to start.
“You want to distract me,” she whispered as he brushed a thumb over her bottom lip. “You don’t want me examining you at all.”
“Distract you?” he murmured. “No, my sweet. I’m simply shifting the argument to more... persuasive tactics.”
He tucked a strand of wet hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing the shell of it, then trailing down the curve of her neck. The water rippled, forgotten. The lake could have swallowed the stars, and neither of them would’ve noticed.
She stared up at him, and she hated how beautiful he was. How very unfair it was.
He leaned in, his perfection on full display as he lowered his head to meet hers. She couldn’t look away from his red gaze or his glimmering skin.
“You feel it, don’t you?” he whispered. “That dreadful, exquisite moment before surrender?”
She forgot to breathe. Everything in her warned her to step back. To speak. To break the spell.
But he touched her jaw, gently, with the kind of practiced care that told her he’d done this before countless times. To countless hearts. And that was the worst of it: not that it was an act, but that it felt like it wasn’t.
And she was never someone’s first choice, was she? Never someone’s endgame.
Yet, for a flicker of a moment, she could believe she was the great love he’d been waiting centuries to find. And that he would ruin himself for her.
He smiled. Just enough to say I have you now.
She leaned in and he parted his lips, tipping her chin with a finger. “Do you want me to kiss you, sweet thing?”
Her lip trembled. “No.”
"You know, in Baldur’s Gate, lying to a magistrate could cost you your tongue. Fortunately for you, I’m retired and far more interested in hearing you beg."
She realized he was not going to be vulnerable with her. All the seduction and charm proved that. And it was simple: she hadn’t earned his trust yet. And she doubted she’d gain it from spreading her legs for him.
And truth be told, if she gave one more piece of herself away, she was afraid she’d have nothing left. This time, in this new life of hers, she was supposed to be stronger.
So, she swatted his hand away even when she wanted to press it to her cheek. “You just want to butter me up before you feed.”
He smirked, humming once. He tilted her chin higher, breathing a cold breath on her lips. It made her mind go hazy.
She shivered. “Not fair.”
"I once sentenced a man to death for stealing less than that boar’s worth of meat. The law, like my hunger, is never fair." He dragged his mouth to her jaw before moving closer to her lips. Too close and far too easy.
She pulled away. “If you want me, you have to catch me first.”
And then she was gone.
Tav dove underwater, kicking her feet hard. She pumped her legs and arms, swimming toward the deeper part of the lake. Would he chase her? Wrap his arms around her and sink his fangs into her neck? Even though it was a necessity for him, she greatly enjoyed it.
She broke the surface with a grin, brushing wet hair from her eyes, scanning the dark water.
No sign of him.
She bit her lip. Was he going to sneak up on her? Drag her under and have her there, claiming her like prey? Her pulse quickened.
For a moment, she dared to imagine what it might be like if he kissed her beneath the depths before—
She saw movement. It wasn’t a graceful arc of limbs, but a sudden flail. A pale arm broke the water, then splashed heavily.
Her heart seized. “Astarion?”
Another flail—wild, graceless—and then he slipped beneath the surface entirely.
She surged forward without thought, arms cutting through the water as she dove beneath the surface. The lake darkened around her, limbs sweeping until she found him. He was sinking, struggling, a pale blur beneath the rippling veil of light. She caught his arm, hooked under it, and kicked hard, dragging him up.
How stupid was she? He hadn’t swum in over two hundred years. Of course, he didn’t know how.
They broke the surface together with a gasp.
Astarion clung to her like a child might, wrapping his legs around her waist desperately. He wasn’t panting, but his muscles were tight and strained.
She noticed how far they were from shore. Her stomach tightened, but she felt better with him close.
“I’ve got you,” she breathed. “I’ve got us.” She swam slowly to the shore, careful not to scare or dislodge him. Only when she felt the muddy bottom with her toes, did he push her away.
His eyes burned. “Let me go,” he rasped.
“I didn’t realize—” she began, but stopped when she saw the look on his face. He looked utterly embarrassed. Angry at himself, possibly. And at her, too.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t thinking. I—I should’ve known.”
He didn’t respond right away. Just looked out across the lake like it had personally insulted him.
There was a tense silence. Tav did her best to break it.
“Can I show you?”
He looked at her sharply. “You want to teach me? The farmgirl brute?”
She drew in her brows. “The brute you so badly want to sleep with, might I remind you.”
He sighed, dropping his rigid stance. “It’s not like I’ll drown. I just panicked, I think. The darkness, the pressure… it reminded me of…”
“Of what?” she asked softly.
He shook his head, the softness in his eyes slipping away like the sun after a long day, and she knew he would not be vulnerable with her again. At least not tonight.
“Nothing of matter.”
She sucked in a breath, knowing he needed her to change the subject. “You’re a natural at everything,” she began. “Treading water keeps you afloat. It’s simple, really. Since you can’t drown, I would think you shouldn’t be too worried. I’ll be here if you start to sink.”
He watched her, and she picked up her legs, showing him. “Kick your legs like this, in small circles. You’ll find the rhythm, I know you will.” She tread water for a long second. “Move your arms too, similar motions.”
He watched her for a long moment, but didn’t try to imitate her.
“I almost drowned once,” she admitted, feeling the tightness of her muscles as she continued.
His brows rose. “You? With those muscles?”
She laughed, but it came out thin. She let herself touch back down, the mud squishing between her toes. “I was a lot younger. I swam in a quarry outside Baldur’s Gate.” Her eyes drifted over the lake, how it caught the moonlight. For a moment, she felt like a different person. As if she could start over, wipe her slate clean, and never be weak again.
But like the worm in her head, she had no spine. She fed off the scraps of others’ strength—parasitic and dependent, pretending her silence was patience, not fear.
“I had a friend who loved to swim,” she went on, her voice softer now. “She dared us to cross the quarry and back. We swam all the time, so I didn’t think twice. But halfway through, my limbs started to ache. I felt twice as heavy. She was already on the other side, looking back at me. She looked strong. Steady.”
She exhaled slowly, the air fogging around the memory.
“I kept going, but my limbs felt like extra weight. It wasn’t easy anymore; I was suddenly fighting to stay upright. It made sense to me, then, why strong swimmers would sometimes drown. If you over-exert yourself, your body gives up on you. And mine had given up on me.” She moistened her lips, chewing on the dry skin. “I remember the exact moment I started drowning, and I decided to cry out for help. I wasn’t used to doing that, and I waited far too long to scream. And she heard me, and right away, she came back for me. But she was too far.”
Astarion was as still as the night.
“I was sinking, so I lay back and floated. I thought, ‘I have breath in my lungs, so how can I drown?’ I remember staying still for a moment, looking up at the big, blue sky. And then I began moving my arms. I did that for several minutes, pushing myself toward the shore. It was easier on my body, but I was still weak and heavy. I thought every stroke would be the last one my body could manage.” She sniffed. “I have never felt so hopeless.”
The last line was a lie, but he didn’t need to know that.
“But here you are, so you made it,” Astarion said quietly.
She did make it. On her own, too. She made it all the way to the shore, and moments later, her friend arrived, panting terribly. Tav had saved herself, because no one ever truly gave a damn about her. Well, not everyone, at least. Her friend had tried to save her, hadn't she?
“Truth be told, I don’t like to swim much anymore. I’ll do a little bit—I can handle being over my head, but not too far from shore.” It was always like that with her. Other people waded out from the shore without looking back—brave, bold, hungry for the unknown. But she kept one eye on the bank. Just in case.
She didn’t trust deep water. Or deep feelings. Or people who said forever and meant it too easily. She feared the bottomless, unfathomably deep pit of darkness that sometimes came for her. It was easier to pretend everything was okay, to let Astarion flirt with her, when she knew he didn’t mean it.
Astarion cleared his throat. “Well, let’s get away from this muck and this depressing conversation.” His voice was light as he waved a hand through the air, affect slipping back into place like a mask.
When they reached the shallows, he turned to her with that familiar gleam. “Now, may I feed, or must you bore me with another one of your pitiful stories?”
She took a deep breath and rolled her neck. “Go ahead.”
His eyes drifted over her throat, and when he leaned in, his hand settled lightly at her waist. His lips brushed skin. Then his fangs.
She closed her eyes. And when he bit her, she imagined it might be a kiss. Because what was pleasure without pain? What was love without loss? What was a marriage without raised voices and sinking stomachs?
They went hand in hand.
Astarion pulled her close, like he always did. If she turned her head just right, she could kiss his neck. And why shouldn’t she? She knew he would make love to her if she asked. He was a man of the night, eager to feast on blood and bodies. He could give her what she needed—but only for a night. And then she would wake up alone. Again.
He took from her, like all the others. How could she discern this from any of her other relationships? She was always the provider, and they always took. And never gave.
Astarion never gave.
He gave one last, long pull before licking her neck and moving away. He grinned, thanked her, and then walked over to his clothes.
The spell was broken, her fantasy going up in flames. But she had to be strong. She wasn’t going to give her heart or her body to just anyone. She moved to grab the soap and dunked her head back under. She washed herself, giving her hands something to do besides tremble.
Her neck throbbed. Her heart throbbed. Her soul—
“Tav?”
She turned at the sound of her name.
Wyll stood at the edge of the lake, and then he quickly shielded his eyes. Tav caught the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks.
“Oh—I, ah—” he cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize—sorry. We were wondering if you'd caught anything. If you needed help bringing food back.”
Tav opened her mouth, ready to give the bad news that dinner had been scared off.
And then Astarion emerged from the reeds, the moon glinting off his white hair. He had put on his trousers, and there was a large deer slung over his shoulder. Blood trailed down its flank in thin, quiet streams, painting Astarion’s bare chest.
Tav blinked. She hadn’t even heard him leave.
Astarion stepped up onto the shore with theatrical grace, as if he hadn't just hauled a beast through the dark with no one noticing. His smile was sharp and dazzling, too full of teeth. “No need to worry, dear Wyll. I’ve got dinner handled.”
Wyll hesitated. “That’s… impressive.”
“Isn’t it?” Astarion said lightly.
Wyll looked at Tav and blushed again. “I’ll let the others know,” he said over his shoulder, already stepping back through the brush. Then he stopped, turned, and spoke, “Tav. You look truly lovely in this light.”
And then he gave a polite nod and left. Tav was reeling from the compliment.
Astarion snorted. “Gods, he has no shame in his attraction to you.” He leaned in, his breath cold against her still-damp skin, and whispered in her ear:
“If you gave him a chance, I wager he’d never leave you.”