A Taste of Plums | Astarion x Female!Tav
Chapter 9: Derailed
Summary: The day is derailed even further, but that might be for the best.
Rating: 16+ for violence and gore. Kissing, making out.
Warnings: This chapter contains detailed descriptions of violence and gore, specifically arrow removal.
Full tag list on AO3. Read on AO3. Chapter 8. Read from the beginning.
Morale plummets in the wake of Lae’Zel’s departure. The rest of the morning is spent in silence as everyone finishes preparing for the day ahead. Even Shadowheart’s smug superiority at finally ousting Lae’Zel fades to a grim determination. Already, the hole Lae’Zel has left feels palpable.
Astarion is sure Lae’Zel will be fine out there. She is a warrior through and through. But an additional prickle of fear ripples through him at the idea that the others may leave him too. He cannot do this alone, he needs every ally he can get.
He knew this was coming, he reminds himself. He knew Lae’Zel was always going to leave. It’s just happening earlier than expected. This is a good thing, actually. He has less competition now. And less opposition to the illithid powers. He cannot compromise that.
He had never really minded Lae’Zel’s condescension or rudeness, even when it was directed at him. Cazador had been much crueler. At least Lae'Zel was almost funny. And her passion for bloodshed had always been inspiring. He supposed he was just disappointed to see a strong ally leave over such a trifle.
Perhaps there was a tinge of worry for her as well.
At least he knows that Tav won’t leave. Certainly not with the promise of tonight hanging between them like luscious, unpicked fruit.
Tav, Shadowheart, Karlach, and Astarion all trudge through the forest in silence, doggedly following the billowing smoke plume that Lae’Zel had spotted earlier. Along the way Tav and Shadowheart stop to forage, gathering berries, mushrooms, and eggs from bird nests. They even find a big, juicy honeycomb. All treats Astarion can’t truly enjoy.
“Are you sure about the tadpoles, Fangs?” Karlach asks him when they are finally alone. Tav and Shadowheart are far ahead at this point, digging up what appears to be a buried chest.
“Of course I am,” Astarion insists. The tadpole set him free. He has to follow this thread.
“Even if it means you’ll become a Mindflayer?”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“But what if it does?”
He briefly imagines the pain and horror of his bones turning into jelly, his handsome face sprouting tentacles, his personality and memories siphoned away to feed the gluttonous parasite. It’s too grotesque, too unimaginable to feel like a real possibility.
But he can imagine Cazador placing his favorite knife against the coals of a blazing fire, the searing heat guaranteeing that its blade will be horrifically painful. He can imagine Godey behind him with the pliers, laughing a deep, clacking chuckle.
“As I have said repeatedly, that is not going to happen.”
Karlach just sighs. “Well. If you’re sure, then.”
Silence resumes. The smoke cloud looms ever larger above them. Astarion thinks he hears a Worg howl.
“I’m just asking you to be careful. Your actions affect the rest of us too. If you begin to transform-"
“I won’t transform!” he yells at her. Up ahead, Tav and Shadowheart try to look busy. “I won’t let it get that far. The idea is to control the tadpole, not become it.”
“But we don’t know if that’s even possible,” she responds.
“But what if it is? We have to inv-”
There’s something up ahead.
Tav’s message throbs through all their minds, rife with concern. Immediately everyone reaches for their weapons.
“Finally, some action,” Karlach growls, grabbing her sword.
“Finally, I agree with you,” Astarion replies, unsheathing his daggers.
Let’s carefully approach-
Karlach charges ahead, bursting through the underbrush. She streaks ahead of them through the forest, a comet made flesh. They all race to catch up to her, nimbly dodging rocks, branches, roots, and all manner of forest debris as they hurtle towards danger. Soon they begin to hear the clangs of swords, the twangs of bowstrings, and they feel the unmistakable thrum of the Weave. There’s fighting up ahead, in the town square of the abandoned village.
What remains of a band of goblin marauders have cornered something against a wall. Whatever it is has put up quite a fight: goblin carcasses litter the ground in pools of dark, sticky blood. Astarion reflexively licks his lips.
“Kill it!” a goblin booyahg cackles as she conjures a poisonous green cloud. She unleashes the magic on her target, which doubles over in a fit of hacking coughs.
“Skva!” Lae’Zel barks between wheezes. A worg leaps at her, sinking its jaws into the hard muscle of her thigh. Lae’Zel snarls in pain, rapping its head with the pommel of her sword. The beast releases her, dazed, its jowls dripping blood. As Lae’Zel shifts into a new stance to compensate for her injured leg an arrow strikes her thigh, missing her plate by centimeters and embedding itself into her other leg. She screams in Githyanki, but somehow finds the force to keep standing. Multiple arrows have pierced her, jutting out of her flesh like pins in a horrifying pincushion. Blood drips from a cut on her brow, where a rock had struck her face, pooling in her eyes.
“Oi! Meatheads!” Tav roars, her mockery grabbing their attention.
“The frog is ours! Back off, or you’ll be joining it!” one of the goblins yells. Lae’Zel uses the distraction to strike, knocking the nearest goblin prone.
All hells break loose. Karlach jumps into the fray, cleaving the worg in half with her sword. Astarion shimmies up a decaying roof, crouching low as he surveys the fight. He silently looses arrow after arrow, picking off goblins from his vantage point. There’s another booyahg perched on a nearby gable and Astarion quickly dispatches him with a clean shot to the neck, sending him plummeting to the stones below with a sickening thud. A goblin slashes at Lae’Zel but Tav grasps her with Hold Person, freezing her in place. Lae’Zel seizes the moment, chopping off her head with a clean sweep of her blade. The goblin band is no match for all of them, together.
“Lae’Zel! Are you alright?” Tav calls out to her as the last goblin falls.
Lae’Zel does not answer. She briefly wobbles for a moment, blinking blood out of her golden eyes. Then she swoons, hard. Karlach dives to catch her but Lae’Zel’s head strikes the cobblestones, knocking her out cold. Shadowheart rushes forward, her blue healing magic flickering at her fingertips. They all stand back as Shadowheart works to save Lae’Zel, watching as she feverishly casts her magic. They may hate each other, but that doesn’t mean that Shadowheart would let Lae’Zel die like this.
“Lae’Zel better live through this,” Karlach murmurs. She has given Shadowheart the most space, ever conscious of her burning engine.
“She’ll be fine, darling. She’s too tough to let a couple of goblins get to her,” Astarion hand-waves. She won’t die. She can’t die.
“Tav!” Shadowheart calls frantically over her shoulder. Tav rushes over, her hands starting to glow with her own lesser healing magic. The two begin working in tandem: Tav props Lae’Zel’s head up so Shadowheart can carefully pour a healing potion down her throat. Lae’Zel groans, her eyes flickering open in a haze of pain.
“Astarion!” Tav cries. Astarion dashes over, crouching at her side. “You have the best dexterity. We need you to help excise these arrows,” she explains.
“I’ll walk you through it. Just do as I say, and everything will be fine,” Shadowheart assures him. “I can push this one through. But these two are pretty shallow, you will need to rip them out of her. I can’t finish healing her until they’ve been removed,” Shadowheart instructs.
“That will make it worse!” Astarion frets.
“Not with goblin arrows. They’re just simple metal spikes, they don’t have the fancy head. You’ll still need to be quick though, so they can heal her before she bleeds out,” Karlach explains.
“Please Astarion, just do it,” Tav pleads.
Tav gently supports the arrow shaft, holding it still. The shaft wiggles, which is a good sign. It hasn’t struck bone. He surveys Lae’Zel’s thigh, making note of the two arrows he will need to remove in rapid succession. Delicately but firmly, he grasps the shaft near the root. Lae’Zel swears thickly but Tav quietly soothes her, casting Calm Emotions. Blood bubbles forth from her flesh as he quickly rips the arrow out. The urge to bite almost overwhelms him, but Tav swoops in with a rag to staunch the bleeding before he can lose himself. Lae’Zel writhes in pain but Shadowheart does her best to hold her down. Karlach hovers over them, burning too fiercely to safely help.
They repeat the grisly process, removing all the arrows from Lae’Zel’s body. Lae’Zel screams, she swears, she twists in pain, but she does not complain. The last one is too deep, so Shadowheart snaps the shaft and swiftly pushes the arrow through her thigh, forcing it out the other side. When the horrible work is done, Karlach passes Shadowheart a Greater Healing potion, which Lae’Zel gulps down.
Shadowheart stands up, wiping the sweat from her brow. Tav stays crouched, casting Prestidigitation to clean the blood and viscera from Lae’Zel’s prone form. Lae’Zel tries to stand but Karlach moves over her.
“Hold it, soldier. Your wounds are closed but you are not fit to move,” she says. Lae’Zel chks.
“She’ll live, but she needs to rest.” Shadowheart declares. “And so do I. I’m almost completely out of magic now.” Tav swears under her breath.
“I could still accompany you to the goblin camp, but I’ll only have my cantrips,” Shadowheart adds. Tav stands slowly so as to not disturb Lae’Zel, then kicks angrily at a nearby tuft of grass.
“As much as I’d like to kick some goblin butt, I’m not going into enemy territory without another healer,” Karlach insists.
“Nor I,” Tav agrees. “Not if there’s as many goblins as I suspect.” They all glance up at the billowing smoke cloud. Lae’Zel was right, the camp is just beyond the ridge.
“Well, at least this was fun,” Astarion says. Karlach wraps Lae’Zel in a blanket from her pack, then hoists her up into her arms, gently cradling her.
“Let’s get this one back to camp, yeah?” Karlach suggests.
“Put me down this instant,” Lae’Zel demands. She squirms indignantly. “I am Lae’Zel of K’liir, not some hatchling.”
“And right now you are recovering from some serious injuries,” Tav says. “We’re going back to camp so we can all re-coup.”
“You tell me if it gets too hot, ok?” Karlach says. Lae’Zel grunts.
“Were you anyone else I would strike you down for such disrespect,” she grumbles.
“Yeah, yeah, we can fight about it after you rest,” Karlach teases.
“As fierce as you are, darling, you shouldn’t run off like that. We were quite worried about you,” Astarion gently scolds her. Lae'Zel glowers at him but she does not rebuff his chastisement. Perhaps they really are growing on her after all.
As they walk, Lae'Zel eventually settles into Karlach's strong arms. If Astarion didn't know better, she almost seems content there.
Tav falls into step beside him. “Good job today,” she says. She gives his arm a quick, affectionate squeeze. The contact sends a jolt of something through him. He isn’t sure if it’s pleasant or not, but he does know that he loves the compliment.
“Why thank you, darling. What can I say, I’m quite skilled with my hands.”
Tav giggles at him. He leans in close to her, so the others won’t hear. “You’ll find out for yourself soon enough,” he promises. Tav playfully pushes him away, pantomiming annoyance, but once she’s done she shoots him a heated look that belies her true feelings. Astarion smirks back at her.
Tonight is the night.
~
There’s a dog waiting for them when they return. Apparently Wyll and Gale had found it wandering around the woods. It had not wanted to leave the body of its dead master, but Wyll had given it his scent anyway. According to the collar, the dog’s name was “Scratch.” Karlach and Shadowheart are delighted, but Astarion isn’t impressed. But he supposes he can live with the dog, so long as it doesn’t slobber all over his pillow.
Somehow, Wyll and Gale had also found the time to trek back to the Grove, trade for more potions and alchemy supplies, forage for food, and discover an owlbear cave. They had certainly been busy bees while they were gone.
They all help pitch Lae’Zel’s tent, then Karlach lays Lae’Zel down gently in her bedroll, where she quickly falls asleep. They all mostly agree: if Lae’Zel wants to rejoin their group then she is welcome to stay. Shadowheart loudly objects, but she is overruled by Tav, Wyll, and Karlach. Everyone is welcome here so long as they are willing to cooperate with the group.
Astarion knew he had bet correctly on Tav.
They all take turns checking on Lae’Zel, even Astarion. When at last she stirs, Gale hands her a bowl of stew and Tav flits into her tent to talk. They all quietly gather nearby to eavesdrop, Gale included this time.
Lae’Zel doesn’t apologize. She is still adamantly against using the tadpole, but she does agree to stay. Astarion intuitively understands that this is Githyanki for “thank you for saving my life.” Tav concedes that they are taking an enormous risk and agrees that if they begin to transform, Lae’Zel should kill them. Lae’Zel swears that she will see it so. Astarion frowns to himself. Even though he is confident that they can eventually control the tadpole, he still doesn’t appreciate that Tav has essentially forfeited their lives. But this seems to be an acceptable enough compromise for now.
Tav gives them all a knowing look as she exits Lae’Zel’s tent. No one tries to hide the fact that they were listening in.
The sun is already beginning to set, so Astarion settles in and begins his grooming regimen. Tav will be expecting him soon.
“Astarion! Can I trouble you for some help chopping these vegetables?” Gale calls to him from the makeshift kitchen he has staged by the fire.
“I’m afraid I’m a bit busy, my dear,” he calls over. Astarion doesn’t have nail scissors or clippers, but he’s skilled enough with a knife to make do.
“Very well, then I shall come to you,” Gale announces, laying down his own knife and making his way over. As Gale approaches, Astarion wonders what he has done to deserve this.
“I’d like to speak to you in private, if I may. About this morning,” Gale says. Astarion raises an eyebrow.
“I didn’t know we had more to say to each other,” Astarion says icily. “You already made your point quite clearly.”
“I actually don’t think I have,” Gale says. Oh good, more lecturing.
“I spoke in anger and in haste this morning, and I wanted to offer my apologies. Although we have only known each other briefly, I meant what I said. I would stand at your side again, tadpole or no.”
“What?” Astarion says flatly.
“I spoke in anger and in haste-"
“I heard you!” Astarion snaps.
“It occurred to me that you and I are not so different, in our ways,” Gale continues. “To be at the beck and call of a supernatural hunger has been challenging, even for a wizard of my acclaim.”
“That has certainly been true in my own experience,” Astarion offers slowly.
"I know we didn’t meet under the best of circumstances and we have all been relatively slow to confide in one another. But now that we have a tad more trust and understanding, I hope that we can move forward towards curing our mutual infection,” Gale says.
“Do we have more trust in each other?” Astarion cuts in, ignoring Gale's mention of the parasite. “Because right now it seems as though the one waxing poetic about trust is keeping a pretty important secret from all of us.”
Gale sighs. “You are right, Astarion. I am asking a lot of all of you. But I assure you, now is not the right time. I promise that when the time is right, I will tell you everything,” Gale pledges.
Astarion looks him up and down, warily. “I suppose I understand better than most the need to keep a secret until the right time,” Astarion concedes.
“You’ve got to get the timing just right, I’m afraid.” Gale sighs again. “And as powerful as I am, I can't say I've been at my level best this past week. This whole adventure has been rather exhausting, if I’m being honest.”
“I quite agree,” Astarion replies.
“If also a bit invigorating,” Gale continues, conspiratorially. Astarion’s lips twitch.
“I quite agree,” Astarion smirks.
“So! Shall we put this spat behind us?” Gale offers his hand for a gentlemanly shake.
Astarion eyes Gale’s outstretched hand. He briefly considers asking the wizard about his intentions with Tav. But his brief glimpse inside Gale’s tent lends credence to Astarion’s hunch that nothing of significance is going on between them. Wyll and Shadowheart are wrong.
Besides, they have almost no chemistry. If Tav would have rather bunked in Gale’s tent, she would be in Gale’s tent. Instead she’s promised herself to him.
“I suppose I can forgive you,” Astarion says, clasping Gale’s hand in his and giving it a firm shake. “Your words are…appreciated.”
“And is there anything that you would like to say to me?” Gale says hopefully. Astarion pauses. The cheek of this wizard.
“I suppose I can also make an effort to be more forthcoming in the future. Within reason. I do have an image to maintain, after all.”
“I can content myself with ‘an effort’ so long as it is a genuine one,” Gale chides him. “Although I hope I prove a worthy confidant,” he adds, smiling.
As Gale retreats towards Shadowheart’s tent, ostensibly on his apology tour, Astarion admits that Gale can be charming, on occasion.
It occurs to Astarion that he hasn’t received a genuine apology like that in decades.
~
Freshly bathed, trimmed, and coiffed, Astarion swaggers over to Tav’s tent, tapping on the flap by way of greeting. Tav beckons him in.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you, my darling,” he asks, sliding inside. Although, he wouldn’t have cared even if he was disturbing her.
“Not at all,” she reassures him. Tav sits on a stool, applying mascara to her eyelashes with the help of a hand mirror.
“We finally have a quiet evening,” he observes lightly, coming around beside her.
“As quiet as it can be around here, anyway,” she retorts. She screws the tube of mascara shut, slipping it into a little pouch. She then produces a small tin of salve, which she opens with a small click.
“A perfect night for two souls who would like to take some time to themselves,” he hints flirtatiously. “If you catch my meaning.”
“Hm, I don’t think I do,” Tav replies, swiping a fat dollop over her lips.
“No?” Astarion questions, his tone playfully patronizing.
“No,” she teases, rubbing the balm between her lips. “You’ll have to be more explicit,” she says, the challenge clear in her voice. Her lips look so pretty and glossy, a tempting target.
“Well then, since you apparently need it spelled out for you-“ Astarion leans down and kisses her, ruining the immaculate shine of her lips with a single press of his own. He lingers against her, enjoying the cloying scent of lavender and honey, the soft pillow of her lips against his own. It must be a beeswax of some kind. Tav opens her mouth to deepen the kiss, but Astarion pulls away.
“Not here,” he says, stopping her in her tracks. “There’s a clearing just over the hill. Once the others have gone to sleep, come find me there. I’ll be waiting for you.”
“I will,” she promises. Already she’s rosy-cheeked and breathless.
He’s going to positively wreck her.
~
Chapter 10: Want❤️🔥
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