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clazberryk · 7 months ago

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Well here it is the updated chapter of Difficult Truths Chapter two: Cut from the same cloth.

I feel like as i am developing my writing skills and getting a better feel of the characters this is stronger than previous. There are additonal parts that i have added as well. Its certainly significantly longer than previously, so iapologise about that.

Well without furtherado, please enjoy

Difficult Truths: Chapter 2 Cut from the same cloth:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56783278/chapters/144465073

Cut from the Same Cloth

Pain.

Searing Agony.

Unending Discomfort.

Life altering Anguish.

When the red crackling streak of chaotic magical energy started hurtling towards Astarion Taveleigha did not think twice to push him out of the way, it was instinct it was reactive, a love protecting the most important person in their life. Consequences be damned. Taveleigha knew going into this fight that she was naïve into thinking everyone was going to survive. Stupid naïve lost little elf girl. That voice was back taunting her, goading her. The voice was debilitating but true, the beast as she called it, returning now using her fathers voice to belittle her and her actions. Was it always her father’s voice? So much had happened today, so much emotional whiplash she could not recall how the voice sounded before. Clearly an unreliable source of information. What good was she if she could not even trust her own mind? If this were how she was going to die, she was happy, she had saved her lover, and she did not regret it, even now as the memories came thick and fast, one rolling over the other, she could not bring herself to regret pushing her vampire out of the way.

How could the Moonmaiden gift him with such a strange creature for a daughter? Something wrong, incorrect, unholy, and broken. Ketheric had never refrained from showing his displeasure with his youngest daughter, he showed and cursed the Moonmaiden in many ways, using fists, words, smites and gauntlets, anyway he could. Her body was a map of many bruises and scars. Her body was a roadmap of the pain she had suffered under Ketheric her father.

The scar on her cheek was from a backslap when she tried a guiding bolt and released a firebolt, the sting of a gauntlet, the grasp of the cold metal against her skin, old memories for her body but new for her memory. The large line on her sternum from the blade slicing into her and the inability for her to cast cure wounds, the experiment repeated over and over and over again. Years of abuse, the bruises, the cuts the derogatory names, all borne from grief for a mother she never knew. Her father disgraced by the Moonmaiden and then maiden of darkness, the goddess of shadow. Repeated hard hands, followed by softer ones from her older sister curing her wounds, singing her to sleep, protecting her, fixing her, but never taking her away.

A disgrace of the Thorm name, weeks of suspicions, and constant de ja vu, the vault in her mind conjured by her minds doing to protect her, the vault in her mind made to protect her heart, her body, her soul, her history, her disgrace, disintegrated because of a few simple words, as if it was never there. Maybe this was for the best, maybe this ending would stop so much damage and carnage in the future. Could she really make a difference in this world, win against these tadpoles, safe Astarion? Safe the world against Murkul, she laughed, it was desolate of emotion. Maybe she should have died at the hands of Ketheric all those many years ago. Isobel should not have died by that fireball she should have. Burnt up and exploded by her own chaotic magic.

Then all this would not have happened.

The memories came thick and fast now, unbridled, unimpeded, rolling one over another and another, too fast for her to focus on just one, where one started or she was just getting a grasp on it another overtook, pushed in demanding attention followed by another and then another. It was too much. She felt her consciousness fading around the edges, her vison even in her memories getting darker, she could feel the inky tendrils, she embraced them and welcomed the darkness. For once maybe she could have quietness, the calm, the lack of worry and no more pressure from everyone else expecting her and her companions to save the world. The only exceptional thing about her being she had been unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. She could not even remember why she was in the Lower City of Baldur’s Gate on that fateful day, but now it did not matter. This way it was easy, it was simple. All she had to do was accept the abyss and darkness and not worry about the next step or the future.

Thump, thump, thump!

Thump…. thump…...thump!

……thum…….th…….

…………………………

“Taveleigha” Astarion shook the elf, but he knew, he had felt and heard her heart splutter and give out, giving her life to save him “Tavi, Tavi, Tav, please, oh god no please” He felt a stinging around his eyes, this could not happen, this was not their future, this was not what he wanted. They had only just started, only just began learning from each other, soft strokes of shoulders, grasping of hands, soft kisses on cheeks, never followed up with pain.

“No, no, get up damn you” He was starting to differentiate between the ants on his skin and the warm glow around his dead broken heart, loosening the harsh cage that Cazador had imbued on him with each day he was compelled to do something his mind screamed against, but he could not break. They were learning to be two whole healthy healing people together, two partners, equals. “I need you” His voice cracked, he pulled her against him tighter, his lips found her forehead, her skin growing cold, and he grimaced, he could feel the necromantic smell of the dead on her taking root.

Her body was growing heavy, colder still, colder than him. Oh gods, anyone that can hear me please. He knew the truth though, no gods acknowledged him or answered his prayers his pleas, not even for his sorcerer, he felt a burning in his chest, he knew this he could sue his rage. “This is not the end. No this is not how we are supposed to end. Taveleigha GET UP!” He shook the small elf, he was not angry with her, he was angry with the world, taking the one thing he knew he could grow to love. Or did he love her already? He had felt something growing in his chest for a while, but he could not understand it. Now he knew he was learning to love, and love Taveleigha he would. To hells with everything else.

“Get up dammit, you stupid maddening woman. WAKE UP!” Astarion shouted shaking his elf, his voice hoarse with unshed tears. He bit back the bile as her head lolled against his shoulder, her neck at an unnatural angle, if she were alive, she would be holding herself up, but no there was no life in her.

Not here, not in Murkyl’s chamber, please gods no, please give her back. He stroked her cheek, pressing his forehead against her, there was nothing no smile, no closing of her eyes, no tilting of her chin awaiting and asking for a kiss, always following his lead.

She was too quiet.

She was too small.

She was too still.

He had not realised how much she moved, the tilt of her head when she was questioning something. The fold of her arms when she was annoyed or disbelieving of what someone had said. Her tongue sticking out when she was concentrating on something particularly difficult, or something that required her full attention. The way her chest raised with each breath. The way her fingers twisted and flexed at unimaginable angles when she was spell casting. Her little nose twitch when she was thinking or laughing, or the way her eyes shined bright one blue one violet, the snort of a laugh. The unconscious lean of her body when she was near him, the gentle squeeze of her hand in his before they went into battle. The square of her shoulders when she was uncertain but had to push forward. The little sigh after he kissed her, or how her little dextrous hands would grip his shirt when they kissed, the little moan at the back of her throat, his lips knowing that he kept her head quiet in those few seconds.

He could hear the fight still raging around him, but the tide had turned Taveleigha had made sure of that. There was no more necromites, and Dame Aylin was wreaking havoc on the avatar, each hit tried and true, even Karlach was making decent damage. He watched Tav in his arms, willing her to wake up, he reached with the tadpole again, but nothing reacted, her arms hung limply at her sides, her head resting against his shoulder, him holding her up, her feet were limp, dragging on the ground with every jostle.

Shadowheart and Jaheria started for the central platform, he shouted out for Shadowheart, but his voice was thin and non-existent, he coughed and then screamed. Weak feeble boy.

“SHADOWHEART” The half elf looked at him, she frowned and then saw who was in his arms, she gasped.

“God dammit get over here” He screamed, finally falling to his knees cradling his sorcerer in his arms, holding her with reverence. He did not notice that Shadowheart had made it to their side, how did she get here so quickly? he heard the creak of her armour as she knelt beside him, raising her arms above Taveleigha’s body.

“Lay her down” she instructed, and he followed, feeling himself getting colder and colder, his warmth currently dead beside him. No air flowing through her lungs, the pink apple of her cheeks pale, as pale as him, her life song as silent as his own heart, not beating, no blood pumping through her body. He watched as Shadowheart’s hands glowed the healing blue, muttering under her breath, he watched wide eyes, as Taveleigha’s eyes flew open and she gasped and coughed, her blood splattering across her teeth and over her mouth, she wildly looked around gasping, crying, groaning and not being able to focus on anything. Why did she always have to awaken the minute a little bit of healing magic entered her body, it always caused her more pain than she ever deserved.

“Tav, darling, you are ok, your alive. Keep. Breathing!” He ordered; he needed her to breathe. Astarion stroked her hair back from her eyes, as they finally landed on his, and the fear he saw in them almost made him cry out himself. He could not imagine what she looked like refusing to take his eyes away from hers. He moved his right hand to her cheek, gently brushing the tears away, she weakly raised her hand and held his wrist, she was cold and still had a green sheen against her skin of the necrotic magic still rushing through her body. “Fancy meeting you here” He smiled his lopsided smile that he knew got a reaction from her, and like clockwork her heartbeat quickened, and she laughed, and then coughed, grimacing.

“Ow” Her heartrate sped up, spluttering but still beating! Please stay beating.

“Can you not make her laugh please” Shadowheart growled, sweat developing on her brow as she focused on her healing, slowly, too slowly for Astarion’s liking, Shadowheart stumbled back onto her haunches, completely spent.

“I’m out” she grimaced knowing her friend needed more healing, she was still too weak, her smallest wounds only healing. Astarion could hear Tavi’s blood whirling through her veins and body, but not all of it was going to the right areas in her body. Shadowheart started looking through her pack but only found a small healing potion, she poured it down Taveleigha’s throat, ignoring Taveleigha’s protests.

There was an almighty bellow and a loud crash of metal on bone, and then silence, the original trio looked across to the platform and saw the avatar fail, crumble, and fall back into the abyss leaving a swirling green necrotic vortex which materialised into the beaten and broken body of Ketheric Thorm. The half elf fallen paladin reached out toward Taveleigha and she shrank at her father’s gaze. She pushed herself further into Astarion’s embrace, trying to melt her back into his chest, she was just a lost little girl. Lost little elf girl. She whimpered, and Astarion pulled her tighter against him, soothing hands, and gentle pressure of lips on the crown of her head.

“You came home” Ketheric whispered, voice hoarse and for the first time it looked like his eyes had cleared of the pain, the torment, the fatigue of the last one hundred plus years and saw his youngest daughter for the first time. Not an experiment, not as a failure but just as her.

Dame Aylin gutturally screamed and used the rest of her strength to deliver the final killing blow and crushed his body with the strength and weight of her armoured boot, taking much joy in doing so.

“He is dead” Nightsong rejoiced, her head looking up arms open wide, and she turned, for the first time since they released her, she looked happy. Aylin turned towards the red headed sorcerer, finally able to acknowledge her lover’s younger “Taveleigha, Tavi, Tavi, Tavi” Damn Aylin placed her hands on Tavi’s cheeks, pressing her forehead against hers “You have returned. True as before”

“Aylin” Taveleigha whispered, her memories clicking into place of meeting the woman when she was younger, liking the strong woman, but she did not know, she did not know she had originally killed Isobel. Aylin pulled the sorcerer into a bone crushing hug, but Taveleigha stayed rigid in the embrace, the paladin did not seem to notice though. So happy to see the only connection she had left to her love alive, and somewhat well. She was shocked when she saw her following behind Balthazar I the Shadowfell, angry thinking that she had come to kill her, but then quickly realised that Taveleigha had not recognised her.

“Balthazar come to add more bars to my cage” Aylin grimaced at rotund man, who was clearly no longer human, an undead abomination, she barely acknowledged the other four people with them, fighting against the soulless phosphorus hands binding her to the soul cage, binding her to Ketheric Thorm, one hundred years of torment. One hundred years of slavery and entrapment. Why was he here again? And with companion’s, no doubt tome come kill her and complete Goddess Shars Ritual to be a dark Justiciar, a stupid meaningless spiteful ritual, with her being the punchline. It was painful dying and being reborn over and over and over again, it caused a vengefulness to seep into the very marrow of her bones, and only grow in contentment. She lunged for the necromancer, but he simply stood there defiant and laughing, “Or perhaps to lead this would-be Justicar’s blade directly into my heart?” Aylin then acknowledged the others, there was a dark-haired half elf, a red Tiefling, a silvery haired pale elf, and a wild redhaired elf…. No, not the elf! No! Aylin stumbled back the anger growing hotter and hotter.

Taveleigha was alive, it cannot be. She was alive, and she had come to kill her. Ketheric had said both his daughters had fell, both his daughters gone from the mortal coil and yet here was Taveleigha, older, hair longer, eyes less bright but still here. NO! No! NOOO! Please mother maiden not her. Do not let Shar take her! She shrugged off the hands wrapped around her shoulders holding her back, a simmering fury.

“I invite you. Heap more sins upon you head, My retribution will be all the sweeter” Aylin smiled at Balthazar, knowing when she was free, she would gladly take The necromancers life, and then some. She knew her mother had not abandoned her. Knew she would get her revenge, whatever the day. But please? I beg of thee mother not Taveleigha, she has suffered enough.

“All this time and you fail to appreciate the gifts I bestowed on you, Aylin” Balthazar smiled a sinister smile, all Aylin did was glare at him. If looks could kill Balthazar would be dead. “Sad, to see a thing of beauty not recognise its own worth” Aylin glanced at Taveleigha, she was watching her and the necromancer carefully. Aylin then realised she was maybe not here to kill her, maybe the sorcerer could help free her, but still she was wary. This was clearly not the same Elf that she knew over one hundred years ago. Even she could tell just from a glance at the Red Head that a lot had changed in this century, and Tavelegiha herself had changed. Clearly, she did not remember the Aasimar, or if she did, she was putting on an exceptionally good front. She certainly had her fooled, either way. Aylin turned back to The Necromancer grimacing more as his wounds on his face contorted with his speech “However, General Thorm, he appreciates you. And he wants you nearby, so I am here to whisk you back to him.”

“Ketheric” Aylin spat on the floor, the name felt like bile in her mouth, of course this was all of Ketheric’s doing, the Oathbreaker, the disbeliever, the vile mortal who was the reason she was in this predicament. Oh, how I wish to cleave his body in two. “I welcome the sight of him, after these hundred years. He whose immortality I supply with my very soul” Aylin saw the started look on the unknown group, Taveleigha even stumbled back slightly, clearly, she did not know.

“GENERAL, Thorm” Balthazar interrupted, “I am sure you will be on your best behaviour. Just in case I have taken some” Aylin watched as he glanced at the group “Precautions shall we say” he smiled then, and Aylin stepped back, putting herself into a loose battle stance, she would be prepared for anything.

“KEEP BACK!” Balthazar snapped at the group, Aylin watched carefully as Taveleigha looked between Balthazar, Aylin, and the dark-haired half elf. “It will take some concentration to secure Aylin for her…”

“Wait, the Nightsong is a person?” Taveleigha interrupted, and Aylin felt a sliver of hope bloom in her chest, however she did not show it on her face.

“oh no little Elf, Aylin is not a person she is an immortal, the very daughter of Selune herself” Balthazar smiled, Taveleigha looked like an annoyed teacher had chided her.

“You are the one who interferes with Lady Shar’s bidding and for that you must die” Shadowheart interrupted, and Aylin looked at the half elf then, realising it was not Taveleigha that was here to kill her, but this half elf.

“Shadowheart…” Tavelegiha warned quietly “She’s a person.”

“Do not you suggest you know more than my Lady Shar. That you are more than her.”

“Shadowheart, you are better than this. You are not a murderer” Tavelegiha cried, and that bloom of hope grew brighter in Aylin’s chest. She was still Taveleigha, still sweet, little Tavelegiha that suffered so much pain at Ketheric’s hands but still managed to see the good in people. Still sort the better and worthiness of others.

“Enough snivelling, you should be terrified Godling, this plane will be your coffin” Balthazar snapped, and turned to the group of four, quickly things turned, and Aylin watched in horror fighting against her binds to help. She watched as the Tiefling bellowed in rage and started attacking the larger skeletons, the ones that could do more damage, she watched as Taveleigha countered whatever spell Balthazar threw at the group and as the silver haired elf slithered into the shadows but stayed close to the Sorcerer.

Aylin watched in horror as a sickly green stream went straight for Tavelegiha, but she managed to repel most of the damage with a shield, the iridescent orb around her for the next 5 seconds. Aylin was in awe of the full elf, she certainly had grown into her power, or at least managed to control her power whilst she was way, and she certainly knew she had gotten stronger, but still she was never one for hand-to-hand combat, and if those skeletons got close to her, she dread to think. However, Aylin need not have worried as the Pale elf, which she quickly learnt was a vampire, ensured no harm came to Isobel’s baby sister, which enabled her to fell Balthazar with a few quick shots of fire and lightning and as quickly as the fight started it was over. Taveleigha bent over, her palms on her knees breathing hard. Aylin watched silently as the vampire placed a gentle hand on her back and she smiled up at him.

Everything happened so quickly after the battle, that even Aylin was still in a state of confusion or bewilderment she was unsure, she was replenished and reconnected with the world, enabled, and no longer drained of her power. She turned to Taveleigha a triumphant smile on her face.

“Are you ready?” Aylin asked the sorcerer.

“For what?” She replied, confused.

“To Kill KETHERIC THORM” Aylin knew this is what Taveleigha wanted to hear, she could see it in the way her body reacted, her mind not remembered but her body certainly had remembered the torment it had suffered. Taveleigha nodded and watched as Aylin for the first time in over one hundred years took flight in the blessing of her mother’s light. it was time to end this.

Karlach reached down and removed the Neverstone from Ketheric’s armour, and before she could hand it to Taveleigha their guardian emerged from a portal.

“You fought well. Now we know, we are against the chosen three” The Guardian looked towards the group. Astarion grimaced and snarled, Karlach looked tired, learning the truth about Gortash, Nightsong looked happy, Jaheria looked just as tired as Shadowheart, and Taveleigha, looked broken. Something changed in her today, in this fight, tin this past month of traversing the shadow cursed lands. She did not have the usual optimism she carried before they reached the lands. She was worn down and broken. Astarion sensed it, in the way she held herself. Normally she stood tall, shoulders squared, jaw slightly tense but ready, now she was hunching in on herself, rounded shoulder, arms around her midsection, from pain but also from holding herself together. Nobody said anything to the Guardian as they told their group what to do next, and they walked through the portal. Astarion helping Taveleigha through. It was clear that Ketheric zoned in on her in the fight, whether it was because of her kinship with him, or because he knew she would be the most troublesome, either way Taveleigha felt like she was 18 years old again and her father was doing his experiments. It had been an exceptionally long time, and she did not have the energy to unpack everything.

Astarion watched as Tavi leaned against the double doors of Moonrise Towers, looking out in the distance, she looked so small, so worn, he was worried she was not going to make it back to The Last Light Inn. He was willing to bet all his gold that she would not. He glanced to Shadowheart as the half elf, nodded at him and then followed his gaze.

“She needs to rest. She also needs to heal more, and I do not just mean physically” She whispered,

“She is not accepting anymore healing, blaming herself for all of this” Astarion waved a hand towards the towers as well as the cursed lands around them. He felt a deeper connection with Shadowheart than the other members of their motley crew, probably because for so long on that beach in the beginning it was just him, Shadowheart and Taveleigha. If it were not mentioned in the camp that the three of them were a tighter knit group, it was never even brought up, but Astarion was also aware of what could be said in the unsaid. He could also divulge a little more with Shadowheart about their de facto leader. There was a camaraderie, not a friendship but a comfortableness that he was not about to ruin with the cleric. Especially as he was aware that his sorcerer and the cleric had grown closer over the weeks and months of their travels. If anyone out right asked him though he would deny it all.

“This is the consequences of a broken man. I am unsure of what she endured with him, but I saw glimpses, and I wish I could take it away, but the only way she will get through it is time” Astorian chuckled a humourless laugh, was that not what Taveleigha had been saying to him about Cazador, time heals all wounds. She was willing to give him time, the least he could do was the same for her. They were cut from the same cloth. Two sides of the same coin. That thought had two parts of him warring against himself, the darker part sniggering stating that her abuse was not as bad as his and the other, the stronger one stating it was pointless to compare others pain to your own. Everyone had some level of trauma they were carrying, and it did not make another person’s insignificant, it was the actions, how they healed that trauma and moved forward. He knew Taveleigha was worth saving, her soul would be saved, however for him he was not as sure.

“You have no idea” Isobel walked up to the pair, and looked out to her little sister, still disbelieving that the Elf that walked into The Last Light Inn a month ago and became The Harpers offence and saving grace was none other than her long-lost sister, who she had believed was dead, because her father had decreed it so.

“If it was that bad, why did you not take her away? Why did you not run? Why did you let her suffer!!!” Astarion snapped, he knew what that could do to a person, to live through that pain and torture daily. He hated to think what it would do to his sorcerer know that she had all her memories, he did not need her to tell him, he saw it in her face, he saw her eyes, they were so much dimmer than before. She was more cut off, more drawn into herself, and he was unsure if he could help her with this, purely because he did not know how. Had he not only recently managed to escape his tormenter and abuser himself?

“I do not know. I hoped he would change and accept Tavi. I did as much as I could, I healed her when he went too far, I hugged her as she cried herself to sleep. I fought with the man daily, but he was not my father anymore. But I was too blinded to see that his grief had completely consumed him and distorted him into a mimic of my father a shell of a man” Isobel looked down at the ground shame seeping out of her pours, but still Astarion did not care.

“You should have taken her far away. You are no better than him” He snapped, and then started walking towards his sorcerer. Shadowheart watched him agreeing but also too shocked because someone had said what they both were thinking. She turned to the other cleric.

“I’m sorry, it has been a long day” She tried to broker peace.

“That it has. But he is also speaking true” Isobel whispered her voice echoing her emotions. The two clerics watched as Astarion gently stroked Taveleigha’s shoulders and she looked up at him, he kissed her temple, and she closed her eyes and leaned on him.

The group eventually made it back to The Last Light Inn, Astarion with his arm around Taveleigha’s waist, holding her up, she was waning, and he could hear her heart slowing, but still beating and he could smell the changes in her energy.

“Come on my dear, nearly there” He swept his lips against her temple again and she whimpered, she just wanted to lay down and disappear. Taveleigha had purposely ignored Isobel, not able to understand or process all the new feelings and memories. She saw from a distance Dame Aylin and Isobel embracing the Aasimar twirling the half elf cleric around in a big circle. The two had tried to talk to her but she moved away to the entrance of the throne room. Not caring if she was being rude. She had wondered if her room was still how she left it or had that been destroyed as well.

Isobel watched as the vampire carefully and dotingly looked after her little sister, clearly Taveleigha had taken the brunt of their faither’s assault, and she was struggling, however still stubbornly refusing anymore healing. Isobel and Aylin tried to talk to her, but she just looked at the two of them with a faraway gaze and walked away, she did not want to admit it but that hurt more than learning that she was dead like she originally thought. It was clear to any observer that the pale elf loved Tavi a great deal, not so much in the words but by the way he held her with reference, it was soft, the gentle squeeze of their hands, the lips brushing her temples, the glances and checks to ensure she was ok and still in the present. The arm around her waist, hand resting on her hip, and lazily drawing circles all minute details but important, and her sister reciprocated, the two whether consciously or subconsciously naturally leaned against each other, their body’s always aware of where the other person was. It was a beautiful dance to watch and observe, a clear dance of two people in love or two people that have their trust in each other so unashamedly it was beautiful. Isobel watched as they rounded the corner at the just inside the inn and went upstairs not talking to anyone.

Astarion lead Taveleigha up the stairs on the left of the inn and into the bathroom. It was a large room made for communal bathing, however when he made sure Tav was sat securely on the bench and was not going to fall over or fall unconscious he drew the deadbolt across with a resounding screech of metal against metal. He glanced at his sorcerer and noticed she was not paying attention, lost again in her mind. He kept an eye on her heartbeat, the sound oh so lovely in his ear, and started the bath nearest to her, ensuring the runes for clean and hot water were working. Thankfully, they were. He looked around the room but noticed there were no clean linen for them. He reached out to Shadowheart with the tadpole, asking for clean clothes for both.

He stayed at the running bath, pulling unneeded air into his lungs. Today had been difficult. He just needed a moment. He needed to compose himself. Later he would deal, later he would assess his emotions, but currently right now he needed to be strong for Taveleigha, gods know she had done it for him many times over. It was the least he could do for her. Is this what it was like to be equals? No questions, no expectations just love for another person agreed to spend your life with? Was this what healthy looked like? Without the world ending bullshit obviously. Today had been the hardest on all of them, over the past month the win of saving the grove had felt further and further away in the past. However today it truly showed that the groups path forward was going to be a hard one on all of them. If this were the worst that Taveleigha was going to experience he would gladly accept that. Surely you are not that naïve, child. Wretched child. He did not wish to have a repeat of today for as long as they both lived. Astarion pinched the bridge of his nose and looked the heavens, turning to Taveleigha and grimacing, she had slouched in her seat, it was clear she was not in the present.

“Gods below” He muttered and marched over and knelt in front of her, gently grabbing her chin with his thumb and forefinger “Darling, let’s get you out of these robes” He muttered, she did not respond, her mismatched eyes looked through him, faraway glaze over them, she was seeing something else, something he was not privy to. Astarion gently started unclasping the buckles on her hips, not that her robes were armour, but they were magical to offer at least some armour protection. Astarion shuddered, thinking of the alternative if her robes did not have the magical enchantment. He truly hoped they could salvage the beautifully detailed and intricate robes, originally a beautiful pink and silver colour, however she had found some clothes dye, and coloured it a deep sapphire blue, making her uneven eyes pop and her red hair stand out more. He reached for the clasps at her neck, and when his fingers brushed against her skin under her jaw, she gasped and drew in a ragged breath, flinching at the connection. He stopped and held his hands up in peaceful surrender, showing his palms to her.

Goddammit! Astarion understood that reaction, he had that reaction many times when caught off guard.

“You are safe, my sweet. I have you” He whispered, not touching her, just being a calming constant present. She had done it many times for him during his episodes, he would do this for her. It was not even a chore or a difficulty, which took him by surprise. He wanted to take care of her. Astarion watched slowly, painstakingly slowly, as her eyes became clearer, they darted around the room, taking stock of the bath, the benches, the windows, the door, the deadbolt across the door looking for an escape before landing on him, he stumbled at the sorrow in them. Does she know how expressive her eyes are? Taveleigha crumbled against Astarion’s chest, gut wrenching sobs, unaware of if anyone else could hear her, she grasped at his black under armour shirt and for a second, he did not know what to do. Then he wrapped his arms around her back, her tears quickly soaked through the fabric and onto his chest, each tear burned his skin, but not because of him, but for her. Taveleigha fell further into his lap, unable to hold herself up, her body shaking, her sobs guttural and visceral, and all he could do was hold her and let this pass. fell into his lap unable to hold herself up and she just cried, painful guttural body wrecking sobs. A mirror image of her holding him after he explained his difficulties and his silly little plan only a tenday ago. Was it only a tenday ago? It had felt like weeks.

Eventually Taveleigha calmed she sniffled and looked up at Astarion. Gods below, what must they look like, a pile of limbs, Taveleigha encircled by his arms and legs, him holding and protecting her from the outside world as best as he could. This was unfamiliar territory for him, something he had never done before he was just as lost in the dark as her, however he did what felt right, stroking her hair and back as she felt her emotions and tried to make sense of her contradicting memories. Eventually she did come back to her senses, back to the present.

“I’m sorry” She mumbled “I didn’t mean too…” and started to pull away, very aware of how close their body’s where, how he held her with such kindness, this was clearly uncomfortable for him, even if he was not showing it well. What surprised her the most was when Astarion pulled her closer and held her closer.

“My love, never apologise for needing me” He smiled her favourite lopsided smile, and she snorted. There she is. Only he could find her snorts of laughter adorable. He pressed his smile against her lips. “Let’s get you cleaned up” He whispered against her skin.

“I can do this” She mumbled “You do not need to make yourself uncomfortable.”

“Oh, my love, you are a silly, silly woman” He laughed, and then tentatively brushed his lips against hers. Oh, I wish I could keep doing this, and I will show you how many times I want to do this. She responded with reverence, her little dextrous fingers wrapping into his shirt, she moaned, and that caused him to react involuntarily, he pulled her tighter against him, her knees going on either side of his hips, and he traced her lower lips with his tongue. He moved down to her jaw, her neck, his bite mark, his place in her neck, he took a deep breath. He did not want to do this here. Well, that is something new. He stayed against her neck, waiting for the crawling to fall across his skin but it did not happen, it was because they were fully clothed, but he was unsure, however it was something he wanted to just keep doing. “I am unsure of many things, but this, this of which, I am sure. This is nice” He smiled, and held her gaze, he saw something flash in her eyes, but it was quick before the guard went up, her insecurities again. They really were similar. He pressed his lips against hers again, this was just a kiss he could do for the rest of their lives. A sweet kiss, an everyday kiss between partners, equals. A kiss that is shared and the know that you would do it for the rest of their lives.

Enjoy: @roguishcat @shewhowas39 @asweetlovesong @bellasmumblingsandmusings @marlowethebard

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