Chapter Text
Tav hated him. Not only because he was a vampire, or the way he swaggered around like the earth revolved around him— but because he only seemed to target her. As though he found her to be the weakest link, therefore the easiest prey. Not once had she seen him dare touch Shadowheart or Laezel without permission. Gale tasted like crap, and Astarion only teased about killing Wyll. She knew why.
She was the bard. While they all possessed some magic or assassin’s blade, she was a traveler, a planner, an entertainer. She could handle herself with a short sword or dagger, but that wasn’t her trade. It was for this exact reason, though, that she was the leader. She’d experienced the world— hells— she’d been a mapmaker at one point. She could nearly get them out of any situation with the right mask.
It pissed her off that Astarion didn’t respect it. She poked at their wimpy fire with the designated fire stick she’d scrounged, watching the fish blacken slowly on each side. Tav hated fish, but now that they were on the road— she didn’t have much choice, and coin was scarce. She was not above stealing a loaf or an apple, but town was so far off, and she was hungry now. The others had gone off to either scout the area or to train— honing their skills. Something that often isolated her. She wasn’t the best training partner, though her acrobatics were quite good.
She stared at the charred fish, putting it on a skewer. She held it up to the sky, surveying its cold, unseeing eyes.
“I bet this isn’t how you thought you’d end your day, huh? All for someone who doesn’t even like how you taste.” Tav said to the fish. It responded with silence. Her nose curled at the smell, but she brought it to her lips, and forced her teeth to bite into its flesh. Without spices, it tasted how it smelled, and it was chewy. She gagged, the skewered fish falling into the dirt as she choked.
“Speaking to fish again? Should I be worried?”
Tav whipped around, hair swaying with the movement as she meant to shoot to her feet. A chunk of fish flesh lodged into her throat with the sudden movement, and she lost her footing, falling into the dirt. Right next to Mr. Fish. One more cough and the chunk was on the ground, and she was glaring at the vampire. His smile was all teeth, brows raised in amused delight.
“Darling that was absolutely pathetic. No wonder you work in entertainment.” He prowled over, like he’d possibly lend her a hand, but instead he sat back on one of the logs and crossed a leg. Tav shoved upward, grabbing the stupid fish and throwing it at him. He threw his arms up to block it with a laugh.
“Easy now, don’t get violent if you can’t handle what follows.” The obvious threat held no venom. Just another one of his backhanded attempts at flirting. She was so tired of this— of him. Always undermining her decisions, always sneaking up on her and cornering her.
“What are you trying to prove? Don’t sneak up on people when they’re not ready.”
He put an offended hand to his chest, “whatever could you mean? I have nothing to prove.” He purred. He stood, his height towering over hers, as the elven half of her heritage hadn’t blessed her with length, and neither had the mortal side.
“You should always be ready.” He prowled closer, and she crossed her arms. Refusing to retreat an inch. “I’m keeping you on your toes dear, so you’ll never be caught unawares by a malicious creature when you’re alone.” The inches between them were disappearing, and heat began in her toes, her ears. It was mostly rage… yes. Mostly rage.
“You don’t mess with Shadowheart. Why me?” She admitted hotly, not bothering to keep her cool. He cocked his head, and scoffed.
“Shadowheart can be quite prickly dear… but you…” their chests were touching, and she couldn’t help but retreat a step, then two, until she realized they were backing into the tree line of the forest. Tav huffed, spinning quickly and twisting gracefully to the side in what could also pass as choreographed. Being an acrobat, everything she did looked staged, it was all second nature now. She was quick, he’d forgotten that.
“And I’m not?” She stuck out her tongue, and he grinned. Then rolled his eyes.
“This is all very juvenile. You’re not proving your point, exactly.” He began to circle her. “But no. I wouldn’t say you are. You’re far too much fun.” She darted an eye to the side, and a small wave of shame overcame her. That she’d tried to see if any of the others were returning— to what? To save her? Tav drew her weapon.
“I’m the leader. I call the shots. If you don’t like it you can take your chances on the road. By yourself.” Her dagger gleamed in the sunlight, the blinding refraction of light making Astarion wince imperceptibly. He stopped his circling. He very pointedly stared at the tip, and smiled. He prowled closer, and Tav gripped the dagger harder.
“And what if I don’t? What if… say, our leader goes missing? Then what do you imagine might happen?”
She wasn’t completely confident she would be able to actually kill him with the blade. Random bandits and lower level foes yes, but a skilled rogue? She wasn’t sure. Even then, he was undead. Would she need a stake? She’d seen him in battle— he was extremely fast, and had a preternatural quietness about him that should have been reserved for ghouls. And those teeth… what was up with those teeth? She never realized vampires had that many sharp teeth! She’d certainly remembered seeing the blood drip through them as he tore into enemies. They never saw him coming. Is that what would become of her?
Tav reminded herself of her strong suits. She was a performer. An actor. An acrobat. She was the leader because she could fake it through anything, and she knew the world. This prick was reducing her to a blubbering fool. Why? Even if he did manage to kill her, she decided, she’d be a pain about it until the end. She would never give him what he wanted. So she threw her blade to the dirt, and gave his chest a hard shove.
“Cut it out Astarion. I know you just pick on me because you don’t think I’m a fit leader. Get over it.” She gave a too sweet smile. He laughed, shocked at her outburst. He threw his hands up in surrender.
“Fine. But you’ll forgive me. It can be hard you know… when you’re over two centuries old and some,” he surveyed her flatly, “oh I don’t know, twenty something? Half-elf thinks she knows all. Trust me,” his eyes darkened, tone dipping. “I know when things tend to go awry.”
“Well then, you know where this conversation is going. Leave me alone. I’m sure there’s lots of boars out there that need drinking.” She jut a thumb over her shoulder back to the tree-line. His smirk faded, but he quickly covered it in a mask of boredom as he sidled up next to her, heading back toward the fire.
She held in her snarl at his closeness. She didn’t like the way his presence made her hairs stand on end— like her body knew before she did that his entire existence was wrong. Ever since he’d attacked her with that knife on the beach, she knew she’d be keeping an extra eye on him. At least Laezel was up front if she didn’t like you. Astarion had too many secrets.
When she went to sit again his broad hand trailed her shoulder, halting her. She looked up at him through dark lashes.
“Tell me,” he began, “are you angry because of it?”
She knew what he meant. She’d been avoiding broaching the topic, but it was bound to come up soon. The real reason she hated the bastard. He’d bitten her in her sleep two nights ago, but that wasn’t even the worst part.
“Of course I’m angry!” She blurted. “Go. away.” She felt like a child, but he was the one being so gods damned annoying. He knew it too, he seemed to get off on grating on her nerves. There was nowhere for her to go, no place to storm off to that he couldn’t follow. She could try and find a fellow companion but there was nothing keeping him from trailing her.
“Don’t flatter yourself, I was just leaving. For I’d only wanted to sit by the fire and sun myself, it’s not my fault you began our little interaction with theatrics.” His face became a calm expression as he turned on a heel and began walking away, likely into town. He stopped pointedly, and turned slowly on a heel, dipping his chin with an arrogant indifference. Tav cocked her head in challenge, and she could tell he was stifling a grin. His hands clasped together.
“Just so you know, I know why you hated it.” He tapped a long finger to his temple, referencing the worm. Then turned and left for good. That stupid, blood-sucking arrogant prick swaggered away, all-confidence. She grit her jaw, but the air whooshed from her belly. She knew the reason she hated it too.
It was because she liked it.