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How many times had he thought about it? How to express that deep, warm feeling which sparkled in his chest each time he heard their voice, their laugh, saw their smile or just thought about them.
These little words.
He could still remember (way too sharply) the one and only time he had uttered them in front of Ellith… so many months ago. A time when his sole purpose was to make them fall for him, just to ensure his own safety. He hadn’t meant them back then. Those words had been like a tool; a strategy he had used too many times before. Empty words, no matter how sweet and innocent they had sound. He had been pretending.
A beautiful lie.
Ellith hadn’t fallen for them. They had laughed dismissively. And he had laughed too. A sort of game; feral and hypocritical. A game with too many layers of lies and tricks, of disgust and shame, a game like a trap in which he had found himself stuck.
A funny game, nonetheless.
None of them had won. Or perhaps they both did, on their own twisted yet delightful way.
They were together. Free. completely free. And they had left all the traps behind.
Astarion sat up on the bed, resting on his elbows. On the other side of the room, the bard was quietly brushing those enchanting crimson curls. He watched. He could spend the whole night just watching them.
That satisfying feeling invaded him again.
A comforting, familiar silence was surrounding them, a sort of domestic peace he had never experienced before those past months. Well, as domestic as the atmosphere of an old inn in the middle of nowhere could be.
“Any plan for tonight, dear?” Ellith eventually asked, still running the brush through their hair while breaking the silence with the softest tone.
They were in a very good mood. They had been for a few weeks – without any nightmare or relapse - and nothing could make Astarion happier.
“Not exactly a plan…” He answered, a thoughtful smile creeping upon his lips. “But… I might have something in mind.”
They had found this little town by accident on their way back to the Gate after a few weeks adventuring in the south. The place was quiet, and there wasn’t much to do here. Even Ellith’s performance the night before in the tavern had only attracted a limited audience; mostly drunkards and lost adventurers with empty purses.
But the town itself was undeniably lovely, perched up on a hill, surrounded by woods, with a small river running through. Almost idyllic… at least quite romantic; whatever that meant.
Ellith squinted slightly, and turned toward the vampire spawn, hairbrush still in hand. “A little something, hm?” They chuckled, obviously trying to decipher his intents. “And what exactly should I expect?”
Before long, Astarion was jumping from the bed to wrap his arms around the bard’s waist. “Nothing dramatic, darling, I swear. Just something I’ve been thinking about lately.”
“Each time you say something like that I know I can expect a few troubles”, Ellith said, pursing their lips mischievously.
“Not this time, sweetheart…” His voice was but a purr as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss on their earlobe. “Trust me.”
Astarion felt the bard’s hands reaching for his hips, fingers almost tugging at his clothes; not desperately, not even lasciviously; Just as a silent way to agree. They trusted him.
He pulled away just enough to look into their eyes. Eyes that have been obsessing him since Ellith had rejected Bhaal’s legacy, since the darkness in them had left to better allow the golden irises to shine and to fight for their own freedom with purplish nuances. He ran a gentle hand through the crimson cascade of their curls and as usual, he marvelled at the softness.
After a quick kiss on the bard’s cheek, Astarion headed for the door, taking Ellith’s hand in his. “Come on, darling. Let’s have some fun.”
Although obviously confused, they quietly wrapped their fingers around his palm and followed him out of the room.
The tavern downstairs was calm, almost empty, except for a couple of groups of people, drinking in silence. It would have been useless for Ellith to perform tonight. No regret.
The innkeeper nodded at the couple, and one of the men at the bar chuckled. Astarion wrapped an arm around the bard’s shoulders. A sign of affection but also of possessiveness. He didn’t like the way that man was glaring at them both. Ellith’s response was instantaneous, if not instinctive; they pressed their cheek against his shoulder, one arm sneaking around his waist as they stared defiantly at the obnoxious man. Of course they had noticed him too, and of course they were not intimidated. The man lowered his gaze, focusing on his drink again, and Astarion had to repress a chuckle.
There was something undeniably attractive in the way Ellith could intimidate almost anyone with one simple look. And in the way they always did it when it jeopardizes their respective comfort.
Once outside, Astarion guided his lover through the empty streets, the sounds of their heels on the timeworn pavement echoing through the town as if it belonged to them both. He nonetheless peeked over his shoulders a few times, only to make sure they weren’t being followed – a habit the vampire spawn couldn’t really quit. Not that he really tried, though. One couldn’t be too cautious.
“Where are you taking me this time, Astarion?” Ellith asked in a whisper, their lips brushing against his cheek as they tightened their grip around his waist. “Another graveyard?”
He scoffed, the pace of his steps slowing down for a few seconds, just so the bard could press a gentle kiss on his cheekbone. “Not this time, my dear. We’re just having a little stroll.”
“A stroll? Like… an aimless one?”
“You know, darling, some things in life don’t need to have a goal.”
“Oh, really?” Ellith asked with a smirk, playing along. “And when where you struck by this epiphany?”
Astarion stopped in his tracks, but his fingers were still tightly wrapped around the bard’s shoulder. Staring at their face, his gaze tracing the lines he had been learning by heart, he looked suddenly much more serious.
A tilt of their head was enough to invite him to answer, to open up. After a short sigh, he indulged. “It struck me the day I… you…”
Stumbling through his words wasn’t something Astarion was used to, but he wasn’t exactly surprised given the depths of the feelings wrapped around his heart. But as usual, Ellith’s patience felt like a soothing balm, a comforting blanket in which he knew he could rest safely. They didn’t say anything, they didn’t urge him to keep going, nor did they show any sign of annoyance. They just stood there, a gentle smile on their lips, and a peaceful glint in their eyes.
“Hm… Can we sit for a moment, sweetheart?” He asked, his voice unusually shy. Astarion himself remembered the first his voice had sounded so genuinely vulnerable, many months before, in those cursed lands. No doubt Ellith could also recognize it.
Thankfully, Ellith didn’t make any comment about it; they silently nodded and took his hand as he stepped towards an old bench.
That was not the plan, not how he imagined it while he was lying on that bed, thinking about these little words. But Ellith’s silly question about this “epiphany” was much more relevant than they must have expected, more than he could have expected.
He sat down and pulled the bard close. They instinctively lifted up their legs to rest them upon his lap, which made him chuckle appreciatively. His hand found its way around their thighs, fingers tracing the delicate sewing of their trousers.
“Do we forget the stroll?” Ellith asked, breaking the silence with a playful voice.
“No, of course not.” He breathed, finding comfort in the bard’s curious gaze. “I just want to give you a proper answer. The answer you deserve, Ellith.”
He rarely called them by their full name. He couldn’t even remember the last time he used it. But the moment felt oddly solemn, and using it right now felt quite natural. Appropriate.
As for the bard, they seemed genuinely clueless, even surprised, but he couldn’t see any wariness, defiance or discomfort in their face. Only trust and what looked like affection.
The sensation in his chest was so powerful that it almost felt like his heart was beating again.
“You mentioned an epiphany…”
“I was joking, Astarion. I no longer believe in revelations, epiphanies or visions.”
“I know…” He smiled as his free hand cupped the bard’s chin to better look into their eyes. “And yet, there is some truth in this.”
There was no resistance in the bard’s body, muscles relaxing against Astarion, their thighs warm on his lap as they nuzzled into his hand. “What truth?” They asked in breath.
His thoughts spiralled in every direction for a moment, retracing the road they had walked together since the beginning, travelling back to the Shadow-cursed lands, to Moonrise and the Temple of Shar and the path in-between, where his own feelings had become much clearer. It hadn’t exactly been a revelation, since the process of acknowledging his feelings had been rather progressive, but the recognition had nonetheless felt like a powerful blow. That specific blow which had spurred him to confess his ‘plan’, his shame, his sins and hopes.
He couldn’t have known what to expect back then. And he knew Ellith had struggled with their own feelings and what eventually became their relationship. If they were at peace now in his arms, it hadn’t always been the case. They both had to work hard to make it happen, and by the look of it, it was a success. And a precious one.
But still, they never put any name on what they were living together, and those words unsaid were itching in his chest.
“You know me well, darling, don’t you? You know how my existence used to have one single purpose: to seduce anything with a pulse. A mean to an end. Everything I did back then had a reason to be done. My existence was a mission in itself, a decadent one, maybe, but straying from it meant… punishment.”
The bard was listening closely, their eyes never leaving Astarion’s face, while his own voice was starting to shake. The memories were still sharp, but he knew he could safely express this vulnerability. Ellith had never judged him. Never pitied him. Their empathy was real, but never overwhelming. It was subtle, and manifest in their patience and careful attention.
“When we met, I no longer had to follow his orders, I was free. A fragile freedom which you helped me secure in the long run.” Astarion’s voice was getting quieter with each new word. He took a deep breath which was rougher than expected. “but when we met, everything I would do had a purpose. Seducing you, sleeping with you, following you in your most absurd decisions and whims on the road…” He chuckled, half-bitter, half-amused by the recollection, by the memories of Ellith making the most foolish choices. “At first, I did it for one single reason: survival.”
“You had a plan.” They replied very matter-of-factly. “I remember, and you know I don’t resent you for it.”
“I know.” Astarion nodded slowly. “And I am grateful. But I am not mentioning it to ask for pity or solace, sweetheart. What I am trying to tell you is that… as you and I got closer, as we learned to trust each other, back in Moonrise and Reithwin, something struck me: not everything needed a purpose. Being with you, being close to you… it didn’t have to be part of a plan, it didn’t have to a mission. You didn’t have to be a target.”
“You told me back then that you hadn’t stopped thinking of yourself as a slave.”
“I did.” His voice was increasingly soft and vulnerable. He wasn’t fond of it, but Astarion refused to leave it at that. “A slave exists for a purpose. And even in freedom, I clung to that purpose because I believed survival relied on my capacity to keep on being useful… until you made me realise it wasn’t the case. Until you made me understand that I could just be, and be myself, with no other expectations.”
The subtle empathetic frown on the bard’s forehead increased, and the hand that was resting on Astarion’s chest sneaked around his shoulder as they pulled him even closer. There was no need for words of comfort. That simple gesture, this intimacy, was louder than any declaration.
Astarion pressed his forehead against their temple, breathing in their scent quietly, focusing on the sound of their heartbeat.
“That’s what struck me… as an epiphany, as you put it.” He whispered, lips brushing against Ellith’s ear. “It took me several days to process it. Before I could talk to you, tell you about.. well, you know.”
The feeling in Astarion’s chest was both familiar and disturbing; this old sense of shame mingling with affection and hopes. He slowly pulled away, just enough to shift on the bench so that his body was fully facing Ellith. The bard reacted immediately, and before long, one of their legs was wrapped around his body, hands resting delicately on his shoulders.
Ellith looked into his eyes, and opened their lips as if they wanted to speak but didn’t say anything. His hands sliding to their hips, Astarion gently squeezed their flesh to encourage them. Their turn to speak.
A little smile, eyes like stained-glass glimmering with affection. “You know, Astarion… I never told you back then, but the night you came clear with your little plan and all that... I found you so brave. So tremendously brave, to be able to face the truth, and to admit it properly. I still think so.”
If Astarion could blush he would have blushed in this very moment. A giddy smile played on his lips, and despite his effort, he couldn’t bite back the soft giggle which escaped him. He had never realized how much he needed to hear this. Especially from them.
Gods, it felt good.
Ellith chuckled along. “I mean it.”
Astarion nodded and kissed their nose as the song of their Ellith’s heartbeats was speeding up by the second. He knew the melodies of their heart; he had learned to decipher its different melodies. And this one was his favourite; it was enough to encourage him. He could tell more, needed to.
“Well, sweetheart, there is also something I never told you… never really told you the way you deserve.” The quizzical look on Ellith’s face was unexpectedly cute. Astarion had to keep himself from kissing them again. He had to focus. “As I already said: you deserve something real, and there is something I told you once, when I didn’t mean it.”
Astarion looked up at the sky and sighed. It was much more difficult than what he had expected. What if Ellith recoiled? What if those words could still frighten them. They had played around with concepts such as ‘falling in love’, but there never was any serious declaration. And the vampire knew Ellith was rather intimidated by such ideas. Intimidated, if not terrified, by their own feelings.
“Are you all right, Astarion?”
His eyes fell on their face again. They looked worried.
“Yes, darling. I just need you to close your eyes for a moment.” He answered, an idea popping up in his mind. “… and don’t you dare cheating!”
“I’ll be good.” The bard indulged with a shrug, and Astarion took their hand in his. Their heart was still beating fast, as if Ellith was expecting something, but it was hard to tell if they had guessed what he had in mind.
“Very well… I just need you to listen.”
Ellith nodded, keeping their eyes tight shut. There was nothing like their patience.
Holding their hands, Astarion leaned a little bit closer. “Perhaps you already know this, El, because I’m not trying to hide it, but I need to tell you… how much I love you.”
As he said the words, a tingly wave invaded his whole chest and throat and neck. Anticipation, fear, excitement… jumping into the unknown.
The bard slowly opened their eyes, and if, at first, Astarion couldn’t read them, it took only a few seconds for the irises to shine anew. Relief washed over him. “I love you.” He said again, his voice much more grounded this time, clear and confident. There was no over-dramatic manner this time, no sappy theatrics or overused empty clichés.
It was raw and real, and nothing had ever felt so right.
Ellith was still quiet, but there was no discomfort in their eyes, no awkward tension. Not even a mocking smile. They were taking him seriously, taking in the words as they seeped into their mind and their heart.
But their silence was lingering a little too much and Astarion didn’t have the bard’s patience.
“Darling…!” He breathed, half joking. “Are you going to say something?”
The glint in Ellith’s eyes shone again and they scoffed tenderly. Their fingers tightened around Astarion’s hands, but they still seemed to ponder the situation. “It was easier to answer when you were joking about it, Astarion.”
“That was the point.”
“And what’s the point now?” They asked, leaning closer, close enough for a kiss. “What sprung you to tell me you love me.”
The question was unexpected, but no less valid. He hadn’t considered that point. All he knew was that he needed to tell them. With no expectation.
“Didn’t I tell you that you made me realise not everything needs to have a point.” He argued playfully. “And love… that is the one thing which never has a point. Which should never have a point.”
“Indeed.” They pondered, keeping their eyes on his face. “At least that’s what the tales teach us. And that’s what I’ve been learning with you.”
A pang in his chest.
Did they just…? Did Ellith really say they’ve been learning about love with him? Astarion knew that the bard was quite unexperimented with such feelings, just like he was (as far as he could remember), and they’ve been discovering together the ins and outs of such a powerful bond.
But hearing them explicitly call it love was entirely new. And although Astarion had been lowkey hoping for it, he was nonetheless taken aback.
He wrapped his arms around Ellith’s form and pulled them against his chest, relishing in the gentle warmth spreading through his chest. “Please, darling, tell me more about it, about what you’ve been learning with me.”
The bard rested their cheek against Astarion’s shoulder, lips brushing against his neck and the rhythm of their breathing calm and slow. They remained silent for a few long seconds. Too long for Astarion’s tastes, but he strained himself this time.
“Being with you, Astarion… It has been a succession of discoveries and lessons, harsh ones sometimes… for the best. It was worth it, and I don’t regret a single thing, because we did it together. We are doing it together, and I’m enjoying this.”
“Good to know, sweetheart, but that’s not exactly what I asked.” Astarion chuckled, although he did appreciate their openness.
“Don’t be eager, dear…” Ellith breathed before pressing a kiss on his throat. “Let me find my way through this.”
They had a point. It was uncharted territories, after all; he couldn’t expect them to get straight to the point. “Sure.. but please, don’t beat about the bush. I don’t want to be sitting here at sunrise.”
“I never beat about the bush, Astarion…” Ellith snapped back, but their voice was more playful than defensive. “I progressively introduce my answers.”
“Fine, and now that the proper introductions are done, can you make your way to matter at stake… please.” The vampire teased, fingers tickling the bard’s waist, which ultimately made them wriggle in his arms with a giggle. He loved how ticklish they were and could rarely keep himself from playing with their most vulnerable spots. The way their body squirmed against his was a priceless treat.
Quite unexpectedly, Ellith smoothly slid out of his embrace, to sink on the ground, knees on the dusty pavements and hands on Astarion’s lap.
Surprised and confused, the vampire crooked his head, one eyebrow up. “I didn’t ask for a practical illustration, darling.” He snickered.
“I wasn’t going to.” They smirked as they rested their chin on his knee. “Besides, I didn’t learn this with you. I was already quite experienced when we first met.”
“Fair enough.” That was something he could, indeed, not deny. “But you surely do not have to kneel to answer my request.”
“It feels more comfortable. Familiar.”
Another pang in Astarion’s chest, but this one was painful. He knew the marks and scars their devotion to Bhaal had left upon their mind. He had often witnessed the way Ellith could crawl back to some old patterns when they felt vulnerable. And they surely did in this very moment. Hence the kneeling.
He couldn’t take it away from them. No matter how much it stung.
After resting a soft hand on Ellith’s scalp, fingers dancing through their crimson locks and brushing against their ear, Astarion invited them to keep going. “So… you were saying that we’ve been discovering things together…”
“Yes…”
He watched Ellith close their eyes and take a deep breath as they leaned into the gentle caress in their hair.
“It’s not just about learning how to care for someone… That I learned with our friends, but you helped go a little be farther.”
He wouldn’t have denied this either. After all, during their tadpole adventure, Ellith had progressively showed compassion to all their companions. But they weren’t only exploring compassion with him; it was about tenderness, restless care and a bond that reached beyond anything he had ever experienced.
“…with you, I’ve been discovering something deeper. You made me realise I was able to cherish and to feel so very deeply for someone else. To devote myself to a person, a real person.”
“I never asked for devotion, darling.”
“Perhaps, but you enjoy it nonetheless.” The bard winked as they turned their face up to him, and there was a jolly smile on their lips. “And I like it, I like it when you’re enjoying yourself, when you’re happy and truly elated. I need it like I need air.”
“You’re being a little bit dramatic, El.”
“I’m a bard, Astarion. Of course, I’m being dramatic.”
A loud laugh left his lips, warmth running through his stomach. “Please don’t stop.”
They nodded.
“I never thought I could love. And from what I can recall from my past, I never loved anyone. And then you stepped into my life, you threatened me with a knife, tried to manipulate me and play me for a fool until you became the most important person in the world – in my world.”
Astarion bit his lower, hard enough to draw some blood. Like his chest was about to explode. He felt breathless, restless and positively excited.
“For the first time in my life, I need someone. I need you.” The bard admitted, and their voice sounded both joyful and defenceless.
Astarion grinned. He couldn’t help it. Ellith reached up to carefully cup his face and he nuzzled into their palm, almost purring at this point, his gaze locked on theirs as his own fingers brushed a few red locks off their face. The glint in the bard’s eyes was familiar and yet curiously unique. All he could hope right now was that he wasn’t misunderstanding their words. “You can say it, dear…” He breathed feverishly. “It’s safe.”
After a trembling nod, the bard pressed a soft thumb against Astarion’s lips, as if to silently urge him to give them a moment, to allow them to take their time. He kissed it and waited, despite the eagerness beating in his skull.
Fortunately, it didn’t take as long as he had anticipated.
“With you, I’ve learned how to love. Now I know how to love… and I love.”
Another kiss on the bard’s thumb. A longer, wetter kiss. An army of shivers ran over his skin, and his stomach tickled with relief and pure joy. He could have taken them into a heated dance right now.
A melodious giggle tumbled down the bard’s lips, and they suddenly looked oddly innocent in their giddiness. “I love you, Astarion.”
Forgetting all his previous restrains, he pulled them into a long, passionate kiss, lips pressed against each other, tongues dancing together as their hands got lost in each other’s hair. When Astarion reluctantly pulled away, he was grinning again. Losing himself into Ellith’s gaze, he realised he had been yearning for those words, for much longer than he was ready to admit.
“And I love you, El.”
The bard blushed, and it was their turn to grin. “Don’t make it soppy, Astarion.”
“You started it, my sweet, beautiful harlot.”
“If you say so, my love.”