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lavenderfluorite14 · 7 months

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A Taste of Plums | Astarion x Female!Tav

Chapter 4: Confession

Summary: Another companion makes a bid for Tav’s heart. Astarion wrestles with what that means.

Chapter Warnings: Canon compliant fantasy racism. See A03 for Full Tag List.

1. 2. 3.

@ambi-chann

In the end, Lae’Zel wins. Her argument is indisputable. They could ceremorphosize at any moment and every minute they waste traipsing around the forest is another nail in all their coffins. Tav begrudgingly relents, motioning for Astarion to come with them. Lae’Zel drags their group back to the Emerald Grove in tense silence.

“So, you know a lot about these parasites? Will we survive them?” Astarion asks hopefully, trying to break the tension.

“Only if my people extract them. The only other cure is the blade,” Lae’Zel replies tersely, offering no further explanations.

“Wonderful,” Astarion blanches.

“So how do they extract them?” Tav presses further.

“They will do so with a zaith’isk. By covenant I can say no more,” Lae’Zel snaps. They descend back into uncomfortable silence. Lae’Zel has such a way with words.

But there had to be another way. Ceremorphosis should have begun days ago and yet here they are, completely untentacled. There must be something special about their tadpoles, Astarion can feel it. And if they are special, then maybe there is a way to control them and stop the transformation altogether. Asatrion could be free, for good.

Free for good. He doesn’t care how it happens. He would take any help he could get, even from mindflayers. The proximity of true freedom spurs him fiercely onward, even as a second death looms.

Lae’Zel hunts Zorru down with meticulous precision. Although, he really wasn’t that difficult to find. Most people eye them with polite curiosity as they pass, but the tiefling called Zorru immediately begins cowering at the sight of Lae’Zel.

“By Mordai’s Eyes, another one? My friend’s blood not enough?” Zorru accuses. “Come to rip me open too?”

Lae’Zel crosses her arms, looking down her stubbed nose at him. “In Crèche K’liir, a formal greeting begins with a bow,” she says. It’s not a suggestion. Astarion feels a thrill of excitement ripple through him. How promising.

Zorru rounds on Astarion and Tav. “Is this monster with you?” He demands.

Tav crosses her arms too, moving to stand by Lae’Zel. “Yes. And I suggest you do what she says,” she warns sternly. Well, well, this was certainly another side of Tav. And not an unwelcome one, he thinks. Astarion crosses his arms as well, scornfully staring down Zorru. Zorru balks, waffling lamely. When neither Tav nor Astarion move, he folds at the waist, inclining his head in a bow.

“Lower,” Lae’Zel commands imperiously. Zorru looks to them for help, dark eyes wide and begging.

“She’s serious. You’d better get on your knees. Fast,” Tav warns again. Zorru hesitates, then sinks to the ground, his face reddening with shame. Astarion thrums with glee. He had suffered similar humiliations at Cazador’s hand for centuries. How fun to be the one commanding and not the one kneeling. Ah, how the other half lived.

Lae’Zel unfortunately concludes her business swiftly and with frustrating efficiency. She shoves their map in Zorru’s face and he marks a point in the west corner where Lae’Zel’s comrade, Kin, had slain his friend. With no more use for him, Lae’Zel orders Zorru to stand, announcing loudly that he may keep his innards.

“You’re not going to eviscerate him? I was hoping for a show,” Astarion pouts.

“Cool your blood. I’ll indulge you soon enough,” Lae’Zel promises. Astarion grins. He certainly hopes so. He should adventure with Lae’Zel more often. Tav unfolds her arms, exhaling audibly through her nose.

“Well…..you are quite the interrogator,” Tav finally grimaces. “We may have to use those skills again.” Astarion notes that she doesn’t seem pleased at the idea, which is a shame. Lae’Zel still preens.

“A shell so thin it was easy to crack it. The teef-ling was clear-“

“Hold on, did you say teef-ling?” Tav smiles, despite herself.

Lae’Zel pauses, confused. Astarion could swear that she was blushing. “I am unfamiliar with the, well I shall not say culture. Custom, perhaps. You shall educate me on matters of this Fay Run,” Lae’Zel orders, confident again. Tav chuckles, sighing.

“Well then, your lessons begin immediately. It’s Faerûn.” Lae’Zel chks quietly, pushing past them towards the exit. Tav catches Astarion’s eye and they both burst into a fit of quiet laughter. Tav quickly trots back up alongside her, Astarion in tow.

“So, Lae’Zel. What would you like to know about Faerûn?” She asks. “I’d be happy to-“

“I have a confession,” Lae’Zel interrupts, suddenly halting. She stops at the upper entrance of the grove where the land levels out into pleasant greenery. She turns squarely towards Tav, who freezes on the spot. Astarion slows to a stop a few paces away. He has to hear this.

“I was too hasty to judge you. I thought you witless, gutless, unimpressively bland,” Lae’Zel begins. Tav frowns, her brows knitting together in confusion, and Astarion quickly presses a hand to his mouth to stifle more giggling. “But now you have earned my respect, and more still.” Lae’Zel takes a step towards Tav, who takes a step backwards. “My yearning,” Lae’Zel confesses. She continues advancing. “You’ve proven your wits.” Lae’Zel takes a step, Tav takes a step. “You are efficient and dominant in and out of battle.” Lae’Zel takes a step, Tav takes a step. “You’ve proven your courage. I swear you would tear the horns off of one dragon for plunging into another.” By now Lae’Zel has backed Tav against the rock face of the grove. “And you are hardly bland. Your scent alone is enough to make my neck sweat and my hairs stand on end.” Lae’Zel murmurs softly, placing an armored hand against the cliff, much too close to Tav’s face. Astarion isn’t laughing anymore.

“Hold on, are you coming on to me?” Tav asks.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lae’Zel mocks. “I want to taste you. Perhaps tonight. Perhaps later. But I want it all the same.” Her voice is a warm, sultry rumble as she leans in closely. “Do you?” Lae’Zel’s golden eyes gleam with carefully controlled lust. Tav’s eyes flick over to Astarion, who has schooled his face into careful neutrality.

“I’m deeply flattered, Lae’Zel,” Tav says carefully, “but I’m not sure.” Lae’Zel withdraws. Something like relief fills him.

“You’re not sure?” Lae’Zel jeers. “Well then. Your loss, I fear,” she says breezily, righting herself. “One day soon you will wonder how my lips might have tasted, how my fingers on your skin might have felt. And you will wish you could return to this lost moment.“ As she turns away, she boldly looks Astarion up and down. She quirks an eyebrow at him, as if in challenge. Astarion quirks an eyebrow back.

“We must find this crèche. Only there can we be purified. And only then will this be over.” She strides forward purposefully, leaving Astarion and Tav to trail behind her. Astarion curiously watches Tav out of the corner of his eye but she pointedly ignores him, staring ahead as they pass beneath the heavy stone gate of the Emerald Grove.

They swing by camp to grab Gale, then spend the rest of the day fruitlessly scouting. The roads beyond are swamped by knolls and goblins, making peaceful passage impossible. They will have to fight their way through no matter what they choose. Which is good, because Astarion will need to stab something soon.

He had been so absorbed in his own plan that he had not considered whether any of his companions might also have designs on Tav. Obviously they would, look at her. She was witty and cute, she defended her comrades, she was a fierce fighter. She was bound to be someone’s type. He had the advantage of course, he was the most attractive one in camp. He assumed. And Lae’Zel had still tried to claim Tav as her trophy.

He hadn’t thought that Lae’Zel of all people would approach Tav. So far she had been utterly single-minded in her pursuit of other Githyanki and deeply disdainful of any unrelated suggestion. It’s not that he didn’t like Lae’Zel, quite the opposite in fact. She was strong, fierce, capable. Ready to kill at a moments notice, no questions asked. He respected her, which was a strange feeling. He was also afraid of her, which probably had a lot to do with it. Astarion should really sleep with both of them. Then, he could have two allies instead of one.

He imagined Lae’Zel would be as indomitable in bed as she was out of it. She would probably be rough, bruising. That could be fun on the right night. But Astarion suspected that Lae’Zel would abandon their camp and rejoin her people as soon as they found her crèche. He doubted Lae’Zel could or would protect him from the Astral Plane, which defeated the purpose of sleeping with her.

And what would Tav think? Would this liaison alienate his best and only ally? Would Tav be hurt if he slept with Lae’Zel, or would she just move on to the next warm body, so to speak? Tav obviously wanted him. What he didn’t know was whether or not Tav wanted only him. Who was his competition and how worried should he be?

For a moment Astarion considers whether or not he is out of his depth. This would have never happened at Cazador’s palace. They had never interfered with each other’s hunts, there was no need to. Why compete for one specific prey, who you would never have anyway, when there were ten more around the corner? He eventually dismissed this ridiculous idea. He’d been toying with and breaking hearts for centuries. He knew how to play this game. Just nights ago Tav had been grinding in his lap begging for more. He was the one on the right trajectory. A trajectory he had interrupted, he thought angrily. He had completely forgotten that there were five other people competing for her attention and every moment that he spent twiddling his thumbs was a moment when someone else could swoop in and steal his prize.

He didn’t know what he would do if that happened. He supposed he would suggest a threesome. He could easily enthrall them both with a range of sexual delights. And if that was not enough? Astarion didn’t want to think about it. He would just have to be the most beautiful. The best in bed. Once Tav got a real taste of him she wouldn’t want anything else.

Astarion was growing hungry. He debated leaving camp to hunt down some juicy, woodland thing, but he still held on to the hope that Tav would come to him tonight. He was slowly tasting more and more creatures and while each held their own particular appeal, Tav still remained his favorite.

He wondered if there was actually something special about her blood or if it was purely sentimental. She was his first. She was willing. Had he known she would be so amenable he would have approached their first time completely differently.

He wanted to scoff at the idea of “their first time.” It made him sound practically virginal, a truly hilarious joke. And yet, it was true. She was the first thinking creature he had ever drunk from. Not a rotting carcass nor an animal he had hunted and killed. A living being who had offered herself to him. Who continued to offer herself to him. It made him feel good, powerful. Warm.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Tav rounded the corner and approached his tent, raising a hand in greeting. Perhaps she really had been summoned by his thoughts. Sometimes his tadpole squirmed in a way that made him curious about all its ignored potential.

“There you are! I was just thinking about you,” Astarion called lightly. Tav raised a teasing eyebrow.

“Oh? Only good things I hope?”

“Naturally, darling.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “I was just remembering that delicious moment we shared the other night.” Tav snorted.

“The one where you bit me? Which time?” She shot back, not unkindly.

“The first time, actually.” He’s glad she’s here. He’s glad she makes time for him, even though there are five others she could seek out instead. “I’ve had this condition for two centuries but, truth be told-,” he pauses briefly. Telling her felt right. “You were my first,” he confesses softly.

Tav blinks at him. “You’ve really only ever-“

“In all these years I’ve only fed on beasts. Drinking the blood of thinking creatures is another thing entirely.” He remembers how their minds connected that night. He knows she knows.

“How different is it?” She asks quietly, her expression softening.

Astarion sighs. “Like night and day. Like nothing I had ever tasted before or since.” He holds her gaze. “You were positively delectable.” A small smile plays upon Tav’s lush lips. He hungers for her even now, the sweet thing. She has created a monster. He’s had a taste of good blood and now he’ll never have enough of it. “And now I can’t help but wonder how the others taste,” he admits. His eyes flick around their camp, watching the others’ unsuspecting movements. Tav shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t know if they’d be as open to the idea as I was,” she reminds him.

“Oh, I don’t think they’d volunteer, of course. But it doesn’t make me any less curious,” He glances back towards Tav, who has crossed her arms over her chest. Her face creases in a frown. “Take Gale, for example,” he continues, in spite of her. “His blood strikes me as rich, refined, like a well aged brandy.” He can’t help but salivate, just a little. A glass of Gale must be so satisfying after a long day. Tav’s gaze drifts over to Gale, who is reading a book in his tent. She chews her lip.

“I could see him as a smooth whiskey. Something classy and expensive,” Tav agrees, playing along.

“But the gith? What in the hells would she taste like?” He says it casually, but he watches her closely for her answer.

Tav cocks her head, her eyes far away as she imagines it. “Something unique, for sure. Some kind of liqueur that you have to sip,” she suggests.

“Ooh, that sounds very appealing. Perhaps a cordial of some kind.”

“I could see that,” Tav says, They both angle slightly towards Lae’Zel, watching her as she sharpens her sword. “Definitely something strong, that’s for sure.”

“And what about Shadowheart?” Astarion prompts. They watch silently as Shadowheart meditates peacefully in front of her tent, her eyes closed to the world.

“Something that really packs a punch, but not right away. Something that sneaks up on you.” Tav is silent for a moment. “An absinthe?” She offers. It’s Astarion’s turn to snort.

“There’s nothing subtle about absinthe, darling. But yes, something with an intense flavor.” He points to Karlach. “Do you think dear Karlach is spicy?”

“No, she’s a beer,” Tav says decisively.

“Ugh, no. Karlach does not taste like foamy piss,” Astarion grimaces.

“Don’t be gross!” Tav exclaims, elbowing him.

“It’s just the truth, darling. I think she’d have a peppery finish.”

“I disagree, Karlach has a sweetness about her,” Tav continues.

“Well beer is not sweet,” he says haughtily. Tav elbows him again, but there’s no real bite behind the jab. He nudges her back, just a little.

“Wyll is definitely fresh and crisp,” Tav says, completely ignoring his comment.

“Like a cider. Far too much sugar for me,”

Tav eyes him. “Thought about that one, have you?” She says.

"I’ve thought about many things,” Astarion counters. “We have a very enticing group on our hands.” He stares at her, eagerly.

“We certainly are an attractive bunch,” she agrees, her tone even. She’s crossed her arms again. Good. Let her wonder what he means by this exchange. He hopes by now the possibilities have made her well and fully jealous.

“So, if you had to take a bite out of one of them, who would it be?” He asks. Tav bites her lip again, scanning the camp. She considers the question for far too long in Astarion’s opinion.

“Honestly, I’d be curious to see what vampiric blood tastes like,” Tav slowly admits. Her eyes meet his, boldly. Astarion can’t help but beam. Got her.

“Darling, I’m flattered,” he teases. “Who knew you had such taste?”

“Has it gone sour and necrotic? There’s only one way to know,” she parries back.

“Indeed. Well, all this talk has made me hungry,” he pointedly looks at Tav. “I’d better find something I can actually sink my teeth into,” he prompts.

“Good hunting, then,” she says, almost airily. It’s not the invitation he had wanted.

“And how will you spend your night?” He asks. Only the barest hint of distress graces his words. “Will you take our gith friend up on her delightful offer?” He tries to wrap the words in velvet, tries to make it seem enticing so Tav will tell him her thoughts plainly now. Instead, she looks away.

“Ah, no. At least, not tonight.” Tav says, embarrassed. “I just need time to myself. To think about everything that’s happened.” She can’t meet his eyes.

Tav is slipping away from him. He could double down, pursue her desperately. He bristles at the idea, despite the needy flame that has ignited inside him. Never again. He would never beg again. It had always been more effective to get them to chase him anyway. He still had many cards to play. He could wait.

“Well, don’t think too hard, darling. Your second thoughts always spoil the fun,” he says silkily. Tav laughs.

“Sweet dreams, Astarion.”

“Sweet dreams,” he says smoothly from behind lowered lashes. Tav retreats to her tent and Astarion slips off into the night, needing to kill.

Astarion returns in the early hours of the morning, long after anyone reasonable has gone to sleep. Yet there’s someone still awake, warming themselves by the fire with a goblet of wine. When she senses Astarion’s return, Shadowheart turns and approaches his tent.

“Find anything out there as tasty as our mutual friend?” She asks.

Astarion smiles perfunctorily. “Nothing out here, no.”

“Do you speak Elvish?” She asks.

“Obviously,” he replies, perking up. Centuries of torment had taken many of his early memories, but Astarion would always remember his first language.

“So what really happened this morning?” Shadowheart asks as she settles down before his tent.

“As Tav said, the tiefling gave us the location to the crèche. Whatever else could you mean?” Astarion replies, sitting beside her.

“Don’t play coy. You, Tav, and Lae’Zel all leave on some Githyanki errand, then when you return not an hour later, Lae’Zel is frowning despite the good news and Tav looks like her heart is going to explode. Then she grabs Gale for a scouting mission and you spend the rest of the day brooding by yourself.” She swirls her wine as she watches him. “So. What really happened?” Astarion swipes her goblet and takes a long sip. Wine still tastes sour, but the buzz is undeniable.

“Lae’Zel made a pass at Tav,” he confesses.

Shadowheart gasps. “Really? What did Tav say?”

“She let her down gently. She said ‘I don’t know,’” Astarion enunciates Tav’s words bitterly.

“Oh, don’t do it, Tav. Can you imagine, with a Githyanki?” Shadowheart groans into her drink.

“I’m sure you’ve never thought about that before,” Astarion quips. Shadowheart shoots him a stunned glare, a beautiful flush rising along her neck.

“Well, that explains your bad mood,” she retorts.

“Excuse me?”

“Please Astarion, you’re about as subtle as a peacock,” she says. “I don’t know what is going on between you and Tav but if you like her you should just say so.”

“That’s rich coming from a Sharran,” Astarion lashes back.

“Look, I’m trying to help you.”

“I don’t need seduction tips from a cloistered nun, my dear.” Astarion’s tone is clipped and biting.

“You’ve clearly never been to a Sharran cloister, then.” Shadowheart rises. “Fine, your feelings are your own. But don’t string Tav along too far. For some reason she actually cares for you,” Shadowheart lowers her voice unnecessarily. They are the only ones awake who can understand Elvish. “Even if she didn’t invite you to her tent tonight.”

“Goodnight, Shadowheart. A pleasure, as always.” He dismisses her in Common, rising to his feet as well.

“Goodnight, Astarion. Sweet dreams,” she calls as she walks away, a saucy echo of his earlier conversation with Tav. Astarion slinks into his tent, tying the laces of the flap tighter than he strictly needed to.

Tell Tav how he feels? What was there to say? “Please help me, I’m so desperate and pathetic, you can have any part of me you want!” Or perhaps, “Despite knowing what I am, you are still so incomprehensibly kind to me that it makes me ache?” Now that was unattractive. This was not some schoolyard crush. Shadowheart would never understand.

Assuming he isn’t banished from the group, he knows he won’t immediately die if Tav chooses someone else over him. If he’s really honest, his plan doesn’t even hinge on being exclusive with her. She just needs to like him enough to keep him around, which he can earn by fulfilling any and every fantasy she has about him. It doesn’t need to be more than that. She could still fall in love with someone else afterwards. Or before. Astarion isn’t picky.

But it would still be a very long adventure if he had to hear her flirting with someone else, see her kissing someone else, know she was fucking someone else. He had experienced many, many tortures throughout the years but that would be a brand new kind of punishment.

Chapter 5: Doubt

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion fic #Astarion longfic #background Shadowzel #Astarion and Shadowheart will be mean girl elf besties #A Taste of Plums #the night shift

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