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While life in the Underdark still took a bit to get used to, while he still yearned to feel the sun on his skin once more, Astarion was certain he’d never trade what he had for anything. Afterall, Eri’s body against his own provided all the warmth of a summer’s day. There they laid in a makeshift shelter. Two bedrolls were pushed against each other. An old tarp hung from a rocky alcove for the sake of privacy. And while both the elf and the tiefling had no trouble seeing in the dark at all, a small oil lantern bathed the space in a soft orange glow.
Turning these ruins into a vampire spawn sanctuary wasn’t easy. Building suitable housing for everyone and finding enough blood to feed nearly seven thousand were hefty tasks. Astarion could hardly blame those who had defected as even he had considered giving up. But Eri assured him such a feat wasn’t nearly as monumental as the final assault on the Netherbrain. And to her credit, things were looking better than two months ago. The deadly creatures that stalked the shadows were just asking to have their blood drained with each attack. Some kind-hearted people even offered cloaks for the spawn to wear once they heard some of the heroes of Baldur’s Gate resided in the area.
Most importantly, Eri’s prayers to Silvanus seemed to be working as some of the other spawn finally seemed to be harnessing proper druidcraft. With any luck, the nature god himself might allow Eri a boon, allowing there to be a grove above where everyone could enjoy sunlight once more.
But all of that could wait for now. Astarion sighed as he held her close. It was almost perfect.
Almost.
A thought nagged at him from the back of his head. Eri knew he loved her. He had told her as such many times now. But after the countless times he had said those three little words to Cazador’s victims, the elf had to admit, they never felt adequate enough to truly convey how he felt. Neither did the flowery compliments offer the sincerity he was looking for. Despite being free from that wretched man, something about saying, “I love you,” still felt unnatural. But what else could he say?
“Astarion?” Eri’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. His scarlet gaze flicked down to her figure.
“Sorry, darling,” he huffed, pulling himself back so he could see her face. “You might want to repeat yourself. I’m afraid I might’ve been too distracted by something else.” He offered her an apologetic smile before pressing his lips on her forehead.
“I was just talking about Dalyria’s progress on druidcraft. She’s learning fast,” she answered. Her brows furrowed as her lips pursed. “Is there something bothering you though?”
“I’m just trying to figure something out.”
“Do you need help?”
“I don’t think so. I think I’ve got it actually”
Violet eyes stared at him with anticipation and curiosity. Bringing his face close to hers, he let his thumb graze her cheek. Astarion smiled as he watched her eyes flutter closed in content. Their lips were close now, and he could hear Eri hold her breath.
“Ai armiel telere maenen hir.” He whispered before kissing her. Soft moans sounded from the two of them as they pulled themselves closer still. In the two hundred years he was under Cazador’s torment, Astarion’s declarations of love were almost always in common tongue. Afterall, there was hardly a soul on the Sword Coast that didn’t speak it. But the Elven language was his own, something he reserved for only his closest companions. Needless to say, as Cazador’s slave he didn’t have a lot of those during that period. He had forgotten he knew it until now, and he could hardly think of anyone else to hear him utter those words once more than the very person who saved him from that nightmare.
When they pulled away, Eri raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?” she asked without skipping beat. Astarion took her wrist, guiding her hand to his chest. Though it had been ages since he had a pulse, the elf could’ve sworn his heart was ever so slightly beating under her palm.
“You hold my heart forever,” he whispered. And he meant it. The smile on Eri’s face grew wider as she gazed at him. So warm and full of adoration.
“Imo ang akong kasingkasing,” the tiefling sighed. Astarion smirked and tilted his head. She laughed as she answered his unspoken question. “My heart is yours.”
Their lips found each other again. Between each kiss was another exchange of Elvish and Infernal. And after each exchange, the kisses would get deeper, more passionate. Soon enough, Astarion found himself trailing his lips down to her collarbone. Eri’s hands had also made their way beneath his shirt. Having found a way to genuinely express his feelings with words he thought he’d never speak again, Astarion felt light as though he was reclaiming another lost piece of himself.