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commander-krios · 3 months

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We Shine In The Dark

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: f!Tav/Astarion Rating: Teen Summary: After securing his freedom with Cazador's death, Astarion can finally make plans for his future. Plans that may include a certain do-gooder cleric. Words: 2962 Additional Tags: Post-Cazador Fight, Spawn Astarion, Love Confessions, Cleric Tav, Human Tav, Cleric of Lathander

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The night didn’t hold the usual foreboding.

He sat on the roof of the Elfsong Tavern, his legs dangling precariously over the edge, a bottle of the finest wine he could scrounge up from the chest in their room clutched in his hand. He’d barely drunk any of it, the taste of the alcohol doing little when his entire mouth tasted like ash and blood.

Cazador’s blood.

Closing his eyes, Astarion was met with a fathomless darkness and he sat for a moment, the sounds of the night on the air: the strum of a lyre from the street below, laughter from the comedy show in the Elfsong's private room, the jangle of coin from patrons as they paid for their food and drink. Across the street, a couple was in the throes of passion, the sounds of their love making loud to his ears while the drunks walking down the street wouldn’t hear a thing over the roar of their chatter.

Wagon wheels on cobblestone, the hiss of a knife as it left its sheath, the clatter of silverware on dishes… Baldur’s Gate was full of life all around him, some enjoying the warmer than usual evening, others taking advantage of unsuspecting revelers. Life moved ever on even as his entire world had come to a standstill.

His eyes opened to the sight of his hand resting against his thigh, pale against the ebony fabric. Blood had dried beneath his nails, the only sign left that a fight had taken place. He’d scrubbed the rest of it from his body as soon as they’d returned from Cazador’s mansion, the stink of death lingering despite the floral soap and hot water.

No matter how much he washed, preened, and scrubbed his skin raw, he still felt unclean. With shaking hands, he lifted the bottle to his lips, letting the cool wine numb him with each swallow.

A creak of roof tiles and a shuffle of footsteps was all it took before he was no longer alone. She was sitting there beside him, mimicking his posture, hands curling over the edge of the roof as she leaned forward, glancing down at the drunk people singing while they continued down the street. For a brief moment, Astarion feared she would tumble to her death. How easy it would be for her to disappear over the edge, plummet to the ground and bash her head against the stones.

If his heart still beat, he was certain it would be hammering in his chest now.

“You’re going to break your neck if you keep leaning like that.”

She glanced at him, hazel eyes reflecting the little light from the lamps below. A small grin curled at the corners of her mouth and even in the pitchest black of night, even without the darkvision provided to him thanks to his condition, Astarion could easily count the freckles that dusted her nose. He knew for certain that wasn't the only place christened with the birthmarks.

“Astarion, is that concern I hear?”

He sniffed, not bothering to hide his smile. “Only for my next meal, darling.”

Luz shifted closer, the heat of her body a balm for his aching soul. Or whatever was left of it. She bumped his leg with her foot, a soft laugh floating around them. “You can’t pretend with me. There's softness in you, Astarion.”

“No, there isn't, darling.” She rolled her eyes, but Astarion couldn’t tear his gaze from her face. She was so beautiful, the silver glow of moonlight reflecting blue off of her dark hair, the copper ends almost like fire with the way it climbed into the darkness surrounding her, an angel sent to save him from not only Cazador, but from himself. He never thought much past how she could protect him from his master, how she could help him get revenge and freedom in one fell swoop, how she benefited him.

And her selflessness went so far as to not even care when he’d admitted that. She was still willing to be his friend, despite everything he tried to manipulate her into.

He knew, without a doubt, that the thing crawling inside of him, trying to tear him apart from the inside out, was love. He loved her.

And he’d never deserve her.

“Are you alright?” Her voice broke him out of his mind and he blinked in confusion. “You were staring off into space again.”

“Thinking. About… everything.”

She flashed a smile in his direction, soft and kind. Kinder than any he'd seen in centuries. “If you want to talk about it, I'm here to listen. Or if not me, I'm sure one of the others would be willing to step in.”

She was trying to put him at ease and despite the flare of irritation that coiled in his gut, he was grateful for it. Because it was her and dammit, this was getting too complicated for him. What did he do with these sorts of feelings?

Astarion huffed, turning away to gaze into the distance. Torchlight flickered where Sorcerous Sundries stood, a colorful glass beacon in the darkness. He wondered briefly what life would be like when they defeated the Elder Brain, if they defeated it. Would he be able to return to the dark willingly? With everything that had changed for him, for all of them, could he really be alone again?

“Easy for you to say. People care what you think.”

Silence followed his words. Astarion couldn’t look at her, refusing to see the pity on her face. After the things they’d dealt with over the last few months, he didn’t want to be some pathetic creature looking for comfort or validation. Not when he was little more than a monster.

Her hand slipped into his, skin warm against his own chill, a comfort in an otherwise despairing life. She entwined their fingers and a gentle squeeze nearly undid him.

“I care what you think.”

A laugh escaped him, harsh and foreign to his own ears. “I thought I knew who I was… before all of this.”

“Before the tadpole?”

“Before you.” Closing his eyes, he mesmerized the softness of her touch, the brush of her skin against his, the open maw of yearning that left a gaping hole in his chest. “You’ve… done more for me than anyone ever has and all I’ve ever done is hurt you. Mock you for your choices. Yet, still you helped me get my revenge. Helped free me from Cazador.” When he finally faced her again, he opened his eyes to find her watching him curiously, without a hint of the things he feared. “Why?”

“Astarion, I know it’s been years since you had anyone care about you, but if you have to ask why I helped you, then I haven't been clear enough." Luz tilted her head so her unfocused gaze was on a couple laughing as they left the Elfsong, hanging on each other as they stumbled over their feet. She nodded her chin in their direction. "Do you think you'd ever be able to have that?"

"Having too many drinks and making a fool of myself?" He scoffed, suppressing an eye roll. "Darling, all you need to do is supply Wyll with a few extra glasses of wine and ask him to dance. I'm sure he'll gladly entertain you."

When she bumped him with her shoulder, a wave of her hair brushed against his cheek, tickling his skin. He reached out and caught the strand, wrapping it around a finger before tucking it behind her ear. She smiled at him again, this time a real smile, one that left wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. He'd never considered laugh lines or wrinkles as markers of beauty, but on Luz, they were incredible. She was a living, breathing person who actually wanted the best for him, a monster who'd only be selfish for as long as he could remember.

Astarion wasn't a good man, never had been even as a mortal, but Luz made him want to be better.

"You don't have to tell me anything if it makes you uncomfortable. I know how you feel about baring your heart."

Damned clerics and their psychological warfare.

"The only hearts I'm used to baring are the ones I ripped out chests."

He was only partially serious about that, but instead of being disgusted by the gory description, she laughed, a soft sound that was so like a ringing bell that it took him a moment to realize what it was. There was a light within her, buried just beneath her golden skin, and it warmed even his cold heart. Astarion glanced at their still entwined hands, wondering how exactly they'd gotten here.

All he'd wanted was someone between him and Cazador. A person he could use to keep his master off of his back, a shield to protect him from whatever it was Cazador had planned when he was undoubtedly caught. Luz was a means to an end, a most likely bitter and bloody end, and despite knowing the truth before they'd even stepped into the Lower City, she continued to help him out of the goodness of her heart.

She'd risked her life to make sure Cazador lay dead on the floor of that dreary old chapel.

Astarion's existence had been one of abject terror and dread, subsisting on nothing but rats and darkness, hurting people who didn't deserve it, all to please a master that would never free him. Every year, every hour, every second of his pathetic and miserable life, he'd barely survived.

He was ready to start living again.

When he glanced at her face once more, Luz was watching the stars overhead, head tilted slightly upwards, lips parted in awe at the sight. Astarion knew the stars, he'd lived nearly two centuries in the darkness that he knew them like the skin he wore. Any beauty they held faded long ago.

But Luz was a sight to behold.

"Thank you."

The words left his mouth before he realized he'd spoken. Her gaze returned to him, curiosity in her eyes, her head bending in his direction automatically. He had her full attention and that terrified him more than Cazador ever had.

"I... wouldn't have any of this without you." Forcing the words past the lump that'd formed in his throat, Astarion refused to break eye contact. She deserved to see the sincerity in his eyes, to know that the lies had stopped long ago. "So thank you."

Luz shifted closer and put his hand between both of hers, eyes soft and full of so many unspoken confessions. Longing pulled at his dead heart. The warmth of her palms against his own made him almost feel mortal again. Though it would never be true, she made him feel alive.

"You don't have to thank me. I did it because it was the right thing to do."

"Oh? I assumed it was because you absolutely adore me, darling." He raised an eyebrow coyly, enjoying the way the blood beneath her skin raced whenever he smiled, when he truly smiled. She turned her face away, a flush spreading from her cheeks and down her neck. He could even see the tiniest bit of redness peeking out from beneath the neckline of her tunic. In his experience, the religious types were always plain, boring, sometimes even going as far as being ugly. But Luz was otherworldly beautiful, like Lathander himself bestowed her fiery beauty among mortals.

"That might be part of the reason as well." She admitted, a nervous tremor in her voice. She took a deep breath, an obvious attempt to center herself, but it did little to calm her erratic heartbeat, the thrumming of her blood a song he could get used to hearing. While their tadpoles linked them in many ways, he didn't want to force a confession through the worm's psychic link. No, he preferred to hear it in her voice and without a single ounce of hesitation. He wouldn't be able to accept the truth of her feelings in any other manner.

"Look at me, darling."

She hesitated, closing her eyes as if he'd disappear if she didn't gaze upon him. Astarion had waited nearly two centuries to be free from Cazador's vile grip and he wasn't wasting another damned second on this type of nonsense, not even with the woman he loved. He'd been dead long enough.

"Luz."

A quiet sigh slipped out as she faced him, eyes studying the clay tiles they sat upon. He wondered if she could hear their companions in the room below, chatting amongst themselves about what was to come next. Lae'zel cursed under her breath as Gale brought up the possibility of seeking out an audience with Mystra. If Astarion was correct in his translations, he was positive that their Gith friend had called the Goddess of Magic quite the nasty word. And then there was the issue of Shadowheart's parents, and Karlach's revenge against Bane's Chosen, and many other things that needed their attention.

None of that mattered when there was so much left to say to the woman beside him.

When she finally managed to open her eyes, Astarion was again hit with the intensity of her quiet beauty, the mix of green and brown in her eyes that were never the same pattern whenever he met her gaze. He'd never tire of guessing what would greet him whenever she looked at him.

"I don't need anything from you that you aren't willing to give." She said, the words coming out thick, as if she was trying not to express any emotion over their situation. Even now, she was thinking of him and what he wanted, of what he needed.

He might be irritated by her selflessness, but he was also grateful their trials hadn't changed her soft heart.

"Let me continue to be selfish then, since you aren't willing to be." He reached out, cautiously as if she was a cat that might spook if he moved too quickly, and gripped her chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing her to hold his gaze as he spoke. "You're maddening, you know. With your self-sacrificing and your holy communions and those dreadful robes you like to wear-"

"Astarion! Those are Lathander's robes-"

"Yes, I'm sure your god is genuinely pleased that you spread his love and golden light around, but darling, they're ugly."

She choked out a laugh, tears shining in her bright eyes, before taking hold of his hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "Insulting me didn't work before, Astarion, what makes you think-"

"I love you."

She stilled, eyes widening as if that was the last thing she'd expected to hear from his lips. And to be fair, it was certainly one of the last he'd expected as well. But it didn't make it any less true.

"What I want more than anything in my newfound freedom is to live again. Truly live. And you..." Astarion brushed his fingers along her jaw, tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck, the soft silky waves slipping through his hands like water. "I've never felt freedom quite like I do when I'm with you. Perhaps it's selfish of me to ask you to stay with me in the darkness when this is over, but I am asking."

He couldn't lose her, not after finding love of all things.

Luz blinked in the silence that followed, eyes staring directly through him. "I-"

"If you planned on breaking my heart, love, now is a terrible time to do it."

Astarion's words shook her from her reverie, and she blinked again, moving a hand to cover the one still entwined in her hair. A soft laugh escaped her mouth, and she smiled, gentle and oh so beautiful. "Here I thought you were breaking my heart."

"I might not have a heartbeat, darling, but even I can't deny the hold you have over me." He leaned closer, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her soap: basil and lemon with a hint of sea salt. She'd recently bathed as well. Beneath the soap, the metallic scent of her blood beneath her skin was ever present, a life more precious than any he'd know in his hands. With a brush of lips against her cheek, he felt drunk on her more than he ever had on wine.

The tips of her fingers grazed against the linen shirt he wore, tracing the worn threads that dangled at the neckline. Then she settled a hand over where his heart was, cold and still no matter how much her touch dared it to beat again. "I love you, Astarion. And once we're free of the tadpoles, we can figure out what's next. Together."

"I rather like the sound of that." He murmured, pressing a kiss against her forehead, her skin a warm comfort against his lips. She sighed, leaning against him to rest her head against his shoulder, watching the stars once more. "But we should stay here for a bit longer."

She glanced up at him, one corner of her mouth twitching up into a half smile. "Why's that?"

"Our resident Githyanki might be plotting the death of a certain high strung wizard and while I wish to see what happens, I also enjoy my head being attached to my body."

Luz giggled, burying her face into his shirt to stifle the sound. With such a simple gesture of trust and affection, Astarion felt happy, truly happy, for the first time in recent memory. Pulling her tight against his chest, his eyes found the stars overhead and considered that maybe they were beautiful, after all.

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