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“Astarion?”
“Hm?” Astarion hummed in response, his hand flicking the page of his book delicately.
“Why did you run?”
“What?” the pale elf asked, his head lifting. His ruby eyes landed on Del, confusion clouding them. Brow furrowed, he tilted his head slightly, pushing the question though he didn’t speak another word.
Del’s own eyes were gentle and warm, as they normally were, but something else lingered there - a sense of curiosity that Astarion had grown to recognise in an instant. He knew when she wanted to ask something of him that mere words couldn’t quite do justice to. This was one such moment.
“Darling, I’m afraid that on this occasion our little wriggling friends aren’t helping. Were you going to elaborate perchance or are you waiting to send the message via carrier pigeon?” He tried to joke, but he could tell this wasn’t the time for jokes. Del’s lips barely quivered in response.
A soft sigh fell from Astarion’s lips as he closed the book and set it aside, pushing himself into a more upright position, his arm resting atop his knee. “Sorry,” he offered quietly.
The wood elf turned to face Astarion fully, fingers twiddling with one another as if they were performing a strange dance that neither knew the steps to. He could see that she was wound tight like a spring, muscles tense with anxiety. It was palpable, the air thick around them both.
“You told me that you were sealed in a dusty tomb because you dared to defy Cazador’s orders. Why did you run from that boy you told me about?” Del asked, her expression intent as she gauged his reaction.
By now she had a good enough inkling of what was too far, but this was something she’d never broached before. This boundary had never been crossed, so she stood on the precipice, tentatively putting her foot on the line and waiting. Perhaps things might go better than she expected, or perhaps they would implode.
For a moment Astarion didn’t react, his eyes growing distant as his jaw tensed. He didn’t blink, nor did he make a sound. He simply froze.
Del feared she’d pushed him too much, ready to apologise profusely and pretend this moment never happened, but then he laughed. It was dry and mirthless - cold.
“I don’t know,” he muttered, tongue running over his fangs as his eyes dropped to the ground just in front of him.
Any other time Del would have left it there, but something told her there was more to his words. He was holding something back. “Why Astarion?” she asked again, more force in her tone, yet no irritation was present.
“I said I don’t know,” came the reply through gritted teeth.
“Yes, you do.”
His eyes lifted to her, staring through his brow at her. “Fine. Because I was scared.”
The wood elf didn’t accept his reason, however, picking up on the defensive tone in his voice. “Astarion, stop deflecting-”
“Stop pushing then!” he snapped at her, eyes wide with anger. “Why do you insist on bringing up the past, Del?! Why must you keep picking apart every single moment! Taking and taking until there’s nothing left!” he hissed.
“Because I want to understand you! Because I care!” Del snapped back, her fist banging against her thigh before she released a breath. “I just… want to know what you were thinking back then… whether you had another motive other than fear and pain.”
The vampire’s body relaxed a little, his shoulders lowering and his jaw loosening. He ran his hand through his white curls, looking at the way his hands still gripped at the air, nails leaving crescents in his palms. In another life those crescents would have bled crimson and his master would have supped every drop up.
The thought made him shiver in disgust until his body bristled all over. The mere thought of Cazador laying a hand on him was enough to make him want to retch.
“I ran because… I saw myself in him.”
Del shifted a little closer to Astarion, taking his hands in hers to stop him creating anymore crescents in his alabaster skin. She tilted her head to see into his eyes. “What do you mean, love?” she asked softly.
Astarion’s eyes softened a little. “That boy had so much life in him. Joy beyond anything I’d seen in such a long time. Back then I could remember more of myself… what I once was. He was so happy. He was beautiful inside and out… I used to have his outlook on life before…” He shook his head. “I was afraid that if I brought him back he might become like me now. There was no telling what Cazador would do to him if he saw that I’d taken a shine to him. I couldn’t let him become twisted and bitter… cynical. He needed to keep that magic alive.”
“Was it worth it?” Del asked.
“Yes.” Astarion answered without hesitation. “I’d do it again. I’d take another year of suffering to see that man smile again.” Tears formed at the corners of the pale elf’s eyes. “He was worth it. Gods, he was worth every second,” he whispered.
Del nodded sorrowfully, lifting the other’s hands up and pressing the softest of kisses to his knuckles. The gesture was small but it was enough to give the vampire comfort - he did the right thing and that’s what mattered.