Chapter Text
I had convinced myself over the past weeks of aches and pains that the hurting in my joints stemmed from the discomforts of the road, of sleeping on a thin blanket spread over the dirt instead of my expensive plush mattress housed in my comfortable tower back in Waterdeep, but times like this was a not-so-gentle reminder that I had been deluding myself. My knees ached a bit more than I had hoped they might as I got up out of bed, my lower back gave a slight warning twinge, but I was able to smother the unbecoming grunt that teetered on the tip of my tongue before it fully vocalized. And a good thing that was, too - my current company would not let that go unremarked upon.
I snatched up a thin blanket draped over the end of the bed and wrapped it around my waist before striding across the chamber to the small table where we had a pewter pitcher of water and a few glasses, and a thick beeswax candle that flickered a soft golden glow into the gentle darkness of the room. Just above it was an oval mirror that I had originally hung there to reflect the night sky above the ocean shining through the windows on the opposite wall, but now my own reflection blinked back at me. My hair was getting a bit too long - if I didn’t get it trimmed soon Tara would start complaining about more than just the beard that I had obstinately kept despite her misgivings. Still, my eyes did not immediately seek my own in the glass. As always they immediately looked to my chest to look for that cursed amethyst ink swirling in an orb over my heart and gracefully curling up the side of my neck - and once again I breathed a small sigh of relief at its absence. It had been weeks since Mystra did me the kindness of removing the Netherese orb in trade for handing her the Crown of Karsus, and while I occasionally let my mind wander down the path of missed possibilities had I coveted that power for myself and placed it upon my own head, I certainly had no misgivings about where my journey had lead me instead.
A small movement from the bed behind me pulled my focus away from myself and to the figure rolling onto his back in his trance. The moonlight spilled over his ivory skin and silver hair, and slumber softened the usually sardonic lines of his brow to a more peaceful and content expression. I had always found Astarion to be a handsome man, but at times like this now - in a place he could call home, free of the nightmarish control of his villainous master - I found him to be ethereally beautiful.
I poured two goblets of water (Astarion would certainly complain about the beverage choice, but I refused to keep a stock of red wine in our bedchambers) and carried them back to bed. He did not wake as I slid back under the still warm bed sheets and set his glass on the side table, but he did roll over to curl against my side and drape his pale arm across my stomach.
Outside the sky had brightened only slightly, turning from inky blue-black to a dusky violet color, and the full moon still hung in clear view. The city and harbor were still quiet. I had a few hours before I would need to prepare to head to the academy. Life was, in a word: perfect.
I took a long sip of cold water, errantly combed my fingers through Astarion’s silken curls, and let my thoughts wander.
Could I have planned out the series of events that transpired starting the day I was unceremoniously kidnapped by the nautiloid airship and had a tadpole forced into my head? While I certainly did not mourn their passing, I could not bring myself to think back on them with anything resembling malice.
For it was their interference that led me to meet the man who graced my bed.
We had certainly had a long, exhaustive road to get to this heavenly interlude, however. When I had first met the handsome rogue he had been a cantankerous tangle of contradictions - he seemed to be always putting on a what must have been exhausting performance of bravado, seduction, and cunning designed to pull myself and our companions into his orbit without any of us getting so close as to catch a glimpse behind that ostentatious curtain to see the wary vulnerability just out of sight.
Admittedly, in the beginning I had done little to pull that veil aside. Grappling with the ticking time bomb of the orb painfully knotted around my heart and the tadpole throbbing in the back of my eyes was enough to take the lion’s share of my concentration and sympathies. Learning that the man was the spawn of a vampire did not instantaneously endear him to me, either. I had obtusely turned my nose up at his brazen requests to feed upon me, refusing to see the parallels between our situations for what they were: was I not also a kind of vampire? Perhaps not of blood, but certainly of power, selfishly hoarding and devouring any magical artifacts we came across in a vain attempt to assuage the snarling hunger that raked at my soul with its ravenous claws. But in time a trust began to grow between us, creating a breathing space to allow us to see beyond our individual nightmares and learn to push out the suffocating walls we had built around ourselves - to trust one another.
But when those walls had crumbled, like castles made of sand swept away by ocean waves, only beauty remained.
The feeling of long fingers delicately brushing over the side of my hip nearly made me spit out the sip of water I had just taken, and I shot a glare down at Astarion’s wry smirking face. The dim light of the room made his normally glimmering ruby eyes appear like two pools of onyx. “And what serious subject is my wizard pondering over at this early hour?” Astarion verily purred in a drawling breathy growl.
I let my hand slide down the curve of his spine, my fingers ghosting over the scars carved into his otherwise flawless skin, and returned his smile with a crooked grin of my own. “Only thinking of you.” The words were sickeningly sappy and romantic, but still honest and true.
He tried to hide it, but I could see the response pleased him by the slight softening in the squint of his eyes and the way his lips parted by just a fraction. “A compelling subject, indeed.” His hand skimmed down the side of my hip and he chuckled softly at the shiver I couldn’t quite hide. “I was thinking of the same thing.”
“Thinking of yourself?” I teased. “How terribly vain.”
His mien sharpened just the tiniest amount, like the warning flash of a blade in the sun, but then another grin stretched his face. “Cute. But call me vain a second time, and I’ll have to make you eat those words… Darling…”
