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It was absolutely infuriating. Ridiculous, even. Outrageous!
Astarion huffed inside his tent. His normally pristine, silvery locks were all in disarray, after running his clawed fingers through so many times. He laid back down on his velvety-soft bedroll with a huff. He knew he should be getting some sleep, it was late, and everyday was another trial. Another challenge. But his mind wouldn’t rest. His fingers gently searched the plush texture. Definitely one of the better things he’d ever stolen. He sighed again, staring up at the tent ceiling. It didn’t make a lick of sense. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it.
Tav barely reacted to anything. When everyone had gotten off that nautiloid, they’d all been in survivor mode. So, the lack of a reaction then had been somewhat excuseable. However, when they saved the grove, everyone else celebrated, but Tav barely bat an eye. Tav had nursed a drink in a dark corner, slightly smiled at everyone else's antics, then disappeared for the rest of the night. Worst still was when he flirted with them. Or, more correctly, attempted to flirt with them. The trouble was they didn’t even seem to notice.
Even when they’d discovered their past. Their history as the Dark Urge. The most prolific serial killer Baldur's Gate had ever seen. Spawn of Bhaal. The prodigal child. Destined to take the throne of Bhaal's High Priest. Normally that would be enough to rattle someone's bones, shake their confidence a bit. It was only earlier that day and yet Tav hadn’t so much as gasped about it.
How in the nine hells was he supposed to manipulate a stone?! Sure, he’d had difficult marks before. Those who were sworn to celibacy, or married… even some who he had personally helped out of the metaphorical closet. Even some who were simply… naive. Oblivious. But he always got signs after some time. Small things that let him know they were slipping, cracking. A smile here, a glimpse of eye contact there. A hand brushing his. He’d played the long game before. But with Tav? It seemed like there wasn’t a game at all.
He’d invited them for drinks, wore his best perfumes, flattered their fighting. Swooned over their voice. Tried to sneak into their bedroll. Nothing, Nada.
They’d immediately stuck out to him as the most useful and capable person in the group. Their steadfast demeanour, battle prowess, dry wit. It wasn’t just him that had been drawn to them. Everyone had, they’d inadvertently made Tav the party leader.
He’d known Tav for a few weeks now, and everyday the party was facing life-or-death choices, and everyone else had had their meltdowns, tantrums, little cries. Even he had his less than poised moments. Yet Tav was still as true as stone.
Astarion was planning on sleeping, but he couldn’t help himself. He glanced through his tent flaps and out to the campfire. Tav didn’t like using a tent, for whatever reason. They simply laid on their bedroll by the fire. They laid on their side, their prone form still and unmoving. But even from here he could smell the scent of their blood, alive. Healthy, even.
He didn’t like how knowing that put his mind at ease. Softened the edges of his frustration. He groaned and rolled over, curling up on his side. But still, they seemed too still. Too unphased. Too damn stoic.
He got up, and pushed his hair back more neatly. Loud enough so Tav would hear, he walked over to them.
“Tav?” He whispered, reaching for their shoulder, before thinking better of touching the sleeping bhaalspawn. He’d seen what the other end of their simple dagger could do.
“Tav-” He said, again, “I know you’re awake. We should talk.” Astarion whispered. Forcing his voice to be soft, caring.
They still didn’t respond, so naturally he poked them as hard as he could on their side with a malicious grin on his face. Tav shot up a growl, they turned and saw his expression, and scoffed, their hand releasing the hilt of their dagger.
There was another moment of silence before Tav grumbled, “Talk about what? I was trying to sleep.” Their voice was tired, and slightly hoarse.
“My, my. Someone’s grumpy.” Astarion teased in a quiet chuckle, reaching forward and brushing their hair off their face, “Just, sit up would you?” He liked that they didn’t push his hand away, He didn’t like that his exasperated tone came out sounding more fond than he intended.
Tav sighed, but didn’t say a word. Their dark, tired eyes staring quietly into the fire.
“You need to talk about it.” He murmured, not moving to touch them.
“About what?” Tav growled back. They were getting defensive. Astarion's eyes narrowed, before he pressed on.
“You know what.” He spat, irritated, “About your heritage, darling. Obviously! You know, the way you were a murderer and how that kind of clashes with the whole ‘hero’ thing you’ve got going for you-”
“I don’t make you talk about your past, don’t make me ttalk- about mine!” Tav snapped, turning their face away from him. Their face was hidden, but he could see the way their form started to shiver.
“Darling?” Astarion leaned forward, trying to see their face. A sinking feeling in his gut as the predator inside him smelt their fear.
“… hhh…. nh-” Tav was suddenly trembling, their entire body locking up stiffly, their breath coming in quiet… quiet panicked gasps. Astarion shifted with urgency, moving to kneel in front of them. He grabbed their shoulders and searched for their eyes. His only thought was concern. Tav, the stoic- the steadfast, was falling apart.
“Hey! Hey.” He said, sternly. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Just breathe.” He commanded, softer. Tav's eyes met his and he felt a pang of… pity. They looked so damn tired. Their scarred face… long silvery lines down the side of their cheek. Their mouth parted as the incomplete, shuddery breaths escaped them. He reached forward and rubbed their upper arms.
“In, and out.” He guided, “That’s all we need to focus on right now, darling. In through your nose… good. Now out through your mouth. Gods, you feel so cold. That’s what happens when you sleep without a tent, you fool.” He scolded lightly. Comforting someone wasn’t his usual forté, but rubbing his hands up and down their arms felt instinctual, natural.
Slowly, Tav's limbs loosened their stiff positions, and their breath became more steady. They were still trembling, and the way they looked away told him they were still trying desperately to hold it together in front of him.
“It’s okay to be scared.” Astarion said, his hands still on Tav’s shoulders.
“I was actually beginning to worry that you were an automaton, or perhaps a statue come to life,” He teased, flicking their forehead to try and lighten the mood. But Tav still looked pale.
“You need to talk to me, darling. Tell me what’s going on.” He urged, brushing some of the hair back from their face once more. This time his fingers lingering on their cheek.
Tav panted, and looked down, shaking their head as if to clear their thoughts “No, no. I’m fine now. Sorry. Just another one of those weird episodes...”
“Having a panic attack doesn’t sound like fine to me, darling.” Astarion said sternly. He felt a rush of anger, for them, or at their denial he wasn’t sure, “You found out your father is Bhaal the God of Murder… what, only early this morning?! You can’t possibly be just ‘fine’!” Astarion growled, and shoved their chest. “You showed the first sign of being human that I’ve seen from you yet, I’m not letting you hide away again!”
“I’m not hiding away!” Tav shouted, agitated by the push, “We just have bigger problems to deal with right now-” They growled, their hands clenching into fists.
“You stubborn fool. Damn it. Come on, up you get. Now, pet.” Astarion seethed, pulling them upright by the arm. “You’re staying in my tent with me. I won’t let you sleep alone. Not tonight.” He said it like it was a punishment, but it was for their comfort. Tav was too startled to protest, and dumbly followed along. Quickly finding themself pushed down onto Astarion's bedroll.
It smelt like him. Like a sweet jasmine perfume used to cover the tangy iron of blood. A hint of leather, and of course plain old dirt. The smell followed this party everywhere with all the travelling.
“You- I- you don’t want me in here… you know what I am-” Tav muttered, looking away from him. Shame etched into their features.
“Love, I’m a vampire. I know exactly what you’re going through right now. So just, shut up and let me keep you company. Just for tonight.” His knelt in front of them, where they were sprawled haphazardly on the bedroll. His red eyes searched theirs, “Just trust me on this. Everything will be fine.” He pleaded.
Tav relented with a sigh, murmuring as they sat tentatively on the bedroll, “It’s not you I don’t trust.” They fidgeted with the edge of the blanket nervously.
Astarion sighed in relief, his shoulders slumped. “Alright, alright, darling. Just lay down and I’ll take care of the rest. I won’t let the dark urge consume you tonight.” He promised quietly from his side of the bedroll.
“And- don’t tell any of the others I’m being nice to you.” He grumbled, shifting closer and gently pushing Tav to lie down, before laying next to them himself. He didn’t touch them, or force a cuddle. He was simply just there.
“Tav,” Astarion began, quietly.
“When I revealed to everyone I am a vampire… I was scared. I was telling everyone I was a monster with the instinct to kill them.” A moment of silence passed between them.
“The others would’ve sent me away, Lae’zel may have just killed me, if it weren’t for you. You vouched for me.” His voice was soft, sincere. He continued,
“So let me help you through this. I know better than anyone else what you’re going through.” He murmured quietly into the dark.
Tav rolled onto their side, facing away from him. Not protesting his words. Quiet, reluctant acceptance.
“... if i try to hurt anyone… you know what to do.” They said, hushed.
Astarion didn’t need to respond. Enough had been said. He stayed sitting up through the night, reading. Keeping watch on them as they pretended to sleep.
“Astarion?” Tav called out quietly.
“Yes, pet?”
“... I made up my name.” They confessed, quietly. Their expression hidden from him.
Astarion's brows furrowed, “You made it up?”
“Tav isn't… my real name. I didn’t think my real name could possibly be The Dark Urge, so I made one up.”
Astarion sat quietly in thought for a moment, before placing a hand on their shoulder, “It sounds to me that you didn't make up your name, you chose it.”
Tav didn’t say anything in response, only their shoulder moving with breath under his hand.
“Just sleep, Tav. I’ll keep watch.” He promised, and he surprised himself. Because he knew he meant it.