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wilteddreamsofbaldursgate · 3 months ago

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Springtime Caresses

IV. Dadstarion, but he's only just figuring that one out.

Good things were happening to Astarion, at least on occasion. It had taken him years to accept that, to trust that his luck wasn’t about to run out at any given moment; to believe that he was worthy of whatever goodness came his way. And things were good, so very good—the Elven woman trancing in his arms was all the proof he needed, was she not? It was thanks to her magic woven into the protective canvas of their tent that he could feel the late morning sun warm his skin. It was her graceful body entangled with his that anchored him to a present worth living, having him excited for the future. It was her heartbeat echoing through his hollow bones that called him back from unwanted dreams, filling the refuge that was their worn tent with the only sound of life that truly mattered to him. It was his favourite melody in all the realms, one he could pick out in the densest of crowds; a tune he knew by his undead heart. And that was why he was still lying awake long past dawn today, holding his breath, listening. Wondering.

What was this faint, fluttering sound rippling through him where Tav’s bare chest pressed against his own?

For nearly half a century Tav’s heart had been singing for Astarion by now, and he took great pride and care in memorising each of her songs. Every piece in his collection was a personal favourite: the steady hum accompanying peaceful nights spent in each other's arms. The giddy pulsing of excitement whenever they were run out of town for a misdeed they might or might not have committed. The urgent pounding of her heart racing him through the throes of passion…But this strange off-tune beat disturbing his rest now, that one was odd—that one was new.

Astarion couldn’t say when he’d first noticed the unfamiliar sound. It might have been there all night, perhaps even longer; it mingled so subtly with his beloved’s heartbeat that it was easy enough to miss—especially when he’d been distracted by all those divine seductions Tav’s body offered him well into the early morning hours. She had tasted so intoxicatingly sweet with his fangs and cock buried deep inside her; the heels of her feet digging into the small of his back, greedily drawing him closer—deeper—as her blood rushed through him, and her legs and cunt had made the framework that was his entire world. It was ridiculously easy for him to lose himself in Tav. She was the one constant in his existence, the dance to which he could anticipate every next move. But now that his hunger for her was sated for the night, and Tav’s heartbeat had calmed into the gentle whisper of slumber, this novel symphony was deafening in Astarion’s sensitive ears. He wet his lips that still tasted of sweet, darling Tav.

Once, Astarion had been very good at ignoring things. It had been a skill long honed, perfected over centuries—how easily had he been able to just close his eyes, turn his back on the ignorant fools sleeping next to him? It had been such a well-rehearsed dance; him knowing what horrors were about to unfold, how irrevocably a life would change. But, night after night, it hadn’t been his life-changing, and so it had been of no consequence to him. Now, though, it was Tav he watched over as she tranced; whom he’d embraced for so many nights and yet not nearly enough. It was her soft, warm breath caressing his skin, making it impossible for him to unhear, let alone ignore, that ominous sound entrancing him. The moment Astarion had acknowledged the lingering change, it had settled in the thus far unoccupied space between him and his beloved. Already, Astarion could feel it deep in his bones—a shift in his world—and for the first time in many many years, he did not quite know what beat he was to dance to. And so the vampire spawn did what he was wont to do: He watched the even rise and fall of Tav’s bosom, filling his empty lungs with air. Slowly, he breathed in and out, tried and failed imitating that melody that was undeniably Tav and yet, somehow, more.

Very slowly it dawned on Astarion, then. How hadn’t it occurred to him before? It would be impossible for him to fall into that familiar, steady rhythm of Tav’s heartbeat this morning because where there had been one heart beating against his chest for all these years, there were now undeniably two.

Astarion’s useless breath caught in his throat. They’d known it was possible; it had been the probability of it all they’d doubted. And yet, here they were. The vampire spawn stared at the elf in his arms. There had been signs, Astarion realised as he reached for the small hand resting on his ribcage, grounding himself. Now that his world was shaking, he could see all the pieces fall into place. Didn’t Tav tire untypically fast lately, while her trances kept her from him well into the evening hours? And didn’t she smell different, too; taste even sweeter? She’d been changing right under his nose, had she not? He couldn’t even recall when he’d last indulged in her moonblood as he watched a well of memories flutter behind Tav’s eyelids. Her pink lips were slightly parted, brushing the gentlest of kisses against his skin as loose strands of her lustrous hair tickled his chin. She was glowing with life, and Astarion couldn’t help but wonder: did she know? Because, to him, it was suddenly clear as day that something had come alive between them—or rather half-alive, Astarion supposed.

Or half-dead, a mean little voice countered inside his head.

Careful not to rouse his beloved from her trance, Astarion slowly untangled himself from Tav’s embrace, feeling at once cold at the absence of her touch. Kneeling next to her, Astarion gently placed Tav’s head on the pillow, brushed a stray lock from the face he could recognise blind. Crimson eyes wandered over Tav’s slight form—lean limbs and restless hands; a traveller’s body that rarely saw the sun. A body that could be better fed and more well rested. A body that could be stronger—a vessel that needed to be stronger for the unnatural presence it held. Deep within him, in a place that had lain dormant for many blissful years, Astarion could feel fear and shame settle. Nothing good tended to come of a union made flesh between mortals and monsters. There was a reason dhampirs were this rare; there was a reason mothers to dhampir children were even rarer. The strain of bearing life from death was too great—and it was entirely Astarion’s fault. But what was he to do? Could anything be done about this…predicament, now? All Astarion knew was that he couldn’t bear seeing Tav suffer; wasn’t she paying such a high price for his affliction already?

But Tav didn’t look like she was suffering, not now and not ever. Astarion scoffed at the discontented frown carved between her eyebrows as her hand searched blindly for his, only relaxing when he laced his cold fingers with hers. It was true, Tav was a little pale and her body bore all the signs of a future that had thus far been unwritten. And yet, now that Astarion bent over her, he could see the slight swell of her belly, the firmness of her breasts and recognise them for what they were. Tav was nothing if not resilient, always believing—knowing—that good things came their way. Had she ever given him reason to doubt her?

Carefully, Astarion rested his cheek below Tav’s navel, and there it was—the epicentre of their future, fluttering against his ear as if Tav had swallowed a little bird. He listened closely to the two heartbeats and tried to learn the intricacies of this new song. The sharp ends of Astarion’s fangs pierced his lower lip as he smiled widely against Tav’s belly. For nearly fifty years he and Tav had made love, and now love had eventually made something in return. But it had only just begun, hadn’t it? There was much to consider. They would have to settle down somewhere; being out in the wilderness, going town to town—it wouldn’t do any longer. They needed a safe place where Tav could gather as much strength as possible, a place where their child could thrive. They needed a home. Everything else would fall into place, surely…

There was another change in Tav’s heartbeat, signalling that she’d woken. It only took a second for her free hand to ghost over Astarion’s arm, his shoulders and the nape of his neck before it found its way into his dishevelled curls.

“What are you smiling about?” Tav asked, a sleepy curiosity laced in her voice that made Astarion look up at her face. He wondered again whether she knew of that second heart beating inside her or not, but Tav was a shit liar, and worse at keeping secrets—unlike Astarion.

He considered her a moment longer before he lifted his head off her middle and laid back beside her. Tav hummed contently as he pulled her against him, resuming their earlier position as if nothing had changed. “Just about how pathetically in love I am with you, and how my love for you only grows each day.”

“Oh, just the usual then,” Tav yawned against his chest, mirroring his smile. “Nothing grand.”

She didn’t know, Astarion was sure of it. And he wouldn’t say anything, not at all. Tav would notice the change in herself soon enough, but for now, it was their secret—Astarion and the little life’s he’d discovered within her. “Nothing grand at all, my dear. Nothing grand at all.”

A good thing was happening to him; he could hear and taste it, feel it grow right there where Tav’s bare chest pressed against his—but who was he to keep that to himself?

“Darling,” Astarion blurted out. “How do you like Baldur’s Gate around…let’s say early Spring, I suppose?”