Chapter Text
His bed was as sumptuous as she would have expected; enormous, swathed in crimson silk, a gorgeous canopy, and a very nearly adequate number of pillows.
A bit of prestidigitation made quick work of the mess they’d made of it and each other. She had been going to take advantage of his palatial bathing facilities, but he’d wrapped his arm around her and pulled her to him, spooning her.
“Astarion, we both need to bathe; we smell like a brothel.”
“How dare you,” he purred into her neck without heat. “We smell like us . And we are delicious .”
She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her, and she felt him smiling against her skin.
“Be that as it may,” she told him, tracing her fingers along his, “we still need to bathe.”
“We will, darling – we will. Later,” he murmured.
And thus the compromise of prestidigitation, about which he only grumbled briefly before pulling her closer.
His breathing was even, his heartbeat steady against her back, and he radiated a warmth that lulled her into reverie.
But his voice lingered in her mind, distracting her from deep meditation.
love.
my little love.
my sweetheart, my little love, you’re the only one, it was only ever you, it will only ever be you …
A thrill of fear, a frisson of…. something else — maybe both — trembled through her; her heart began pounding an urgent tempo that ought to have been reserved for impending disasters or miracles, her chest tight.
She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, trying to —
Astarion’s arm tightened around her one moment, and in the next she was blinking up at him as he scanned the room from his position above her, his body covering hers.
“What happened?” he demanded once apparently satisfied that there was no one who needed killing in the bedchamber with them, scanning her for injury or other possible harm as he braced himself above her by his forearms.
“Erm… nothing?”
He frowned at her, shifting onto his side, settling next to her.
“Then why is this,” he reached out to tap two fingers just over her heart, “hammering as though the castle were being stormed by a shudder of clowns?”
“A what of clowns?” she asked, looking at him askance.
“The collective noun for clowns is a ‘shudder,’” he informed her. “Entirely appropriate, I might add.”
“No it’s not,” she told him with significant side-eye.
“Of course it is,” he replied impatiently. “Clowns are loathsome. An unrepentant affront to decency and good taste.”
“Huh,” she said after regarding him for a moment. “I knew you weren’t necessarily a fan, but I had no idea you felt so strongly about them.”
“I have my reasons,” he said darkly. Then, hauteur fully recovered, “Besides, everyone hates clowns.”
“I don’t,” she said with a little shrug. “They’re just people with wild makeup and big shoes.”
“I’ve always known you’re demented,” he said, shaking his head in resignation.
“I am not,” she said, pushing him onto his back to fold her arms on his chest. “Also, a ‘shudder’ is not the term for a group of clowns; it’s an ‘alley.’”
“That doesn’t even make sense,” he retorted dismissively, idly winding one of her curls loosely around his finger. Her mouth was open to protest, but he continued. “Now, before you start expounding on the nuanced layers of meaning embedded in the word ‘alley,’ why don’t you tell me what had your heart palpitating just now?”
“I’d rather talk about collective nouns,” she told him, putting her head down on her folded arms.
He tugged on her curl, causing her to look up at him with a frown.
“Come now, sweetheart, you can tell your eyuni ,” he told her, brushing an errant curl back from her face with his free hand. “If there’s someone I need to eviscerate, I’d rather know sooner rather than later so I can plan what to wear tonight.”
“It’s not ‘ your eyuni ’ -- eyuni means ‘my eyes.’ ‘Your eyes’ would be ‘ eyun uk,” she told him.
“Hmm,” he said with at thoughtful nod. “Good to know. But I don’t like eyunuk as much as eyuni . Eyuni ’s quite charming; cute really. Eyunuk sounds like an orc’s middle name, or some unfortunate mutilation victim guarding a harem — so I’ll just stick with eyuni , thank you.”
She laughed, shaking her head as she put it down on her hands.
“You’re ridiculous,” she said. He tugged at her curl again;she looked back up at him. “Anyway, could we not casually joke about disembowelment as a security measure?”
“Who’s joking, darling?” he asked blithely. “Clever, though, how you keep evading the question.”
He tweaked her curl with another light tug.
“Would you stop —”
-tweak -
“Astarion —” she warned.
- tweak-
“You’re making this a much bigger deal than it actually is,” she told him.
- tweak -
“Then you may as well just tell me before I wind up escalating things even further,” he said with a shrug.
“It’s nothing, just —” she gestured vaguely to him, then herself. “This, us — it’s —”
“Exciting?” he prompted with a smirk. “Exhilarating? Arousing ?”
He drew out the last in a low-pitched drawl, and she gave a little laugh.
“Yes, and… and well, it’s a bit terrifying, isn’t it?”
“Oh?” he said, nonchalance nearly disguising the caution in it. “Am I terrifying now?”
She scoffed. He looked affronted.
“Well you don’t have to be rude about it,” he huffed.
“It’s — you know, things like ‘love,’ and — I’m ‘the only one,’ and ‘it’s only ever been’ me…”
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware my feelings for you would be nightmare fuel,” he told her with a scowl as he sat up, displacing her.
“Astarion, that’s not it at all,” she told him as she sat up herself, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. “I just… it’s just… I have feelings, too. Big feelings. Tremendous, deep, real feelings. Just like before.”
Taking a breath, she looked at him. “And before — last time there were all these feelings — it was so awful, Astarion. It was…”
She shook her head, looking down.
“I couldn’t do that again,” she said. “I don’t know if I could survive it.”
She heard him heave an audible sigh.
- tweak -
“Well I suppose it’s fortunate that I have no plans to let you go so easily again,” he said.
She inhaled deeply; exhaled slowly.
a smaller, gentler - tweak -
She looked up; of course, he had another of her curls wrapped around his finger.
“Everything is different this time, sweetheart,” he told her.
“I know ,” she said emphatically. “I saw it — I felt it last night.”
She shuffled over to him on her knees, then took his hand again. “That’s why it is exciting, and exhilarating, and arousing.”
“Well, to be fair, I’m always arousing,” he said loftily.
“You have your moments,” she told him with a shrug – then, instantly, she was on her back with him above her.
“I will make you come until your knees are jelly and you need someone to carry you from place to place for a week, ” he promised.
She brushed an unruly curl back from his forehead in response.
“I just — I know you mean it,” she said softly. “And — I know you’re scared, too.”
He scoffed, rolling off of her, but not going far; his fingers rested next to hers, barely touching.
“Hardly.”
“It’s OK to be scared,” she said, turning onto her side to look at him, to lace her fingers with his. “Because this is real, Astarion, and that’s scary on its own, without even thinking about everything from last time.”
“And why should I be afraid?” he asked disdainfully, turning to her. “Do you have plans to traipse across Toril again for the next five years? Maybe try some interplanar travel?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t — is that really what you’re afraid of?” she said looking at him.
He rolled his eyes, looking at the canopy arcing above them.
“I’m not meant to be vulnerable , Zeneida. I’m not meant to be weak ,” he said emphatically.
“Vulnerable and weak aren’t the same thing,” she said.
“Please spare me your touchy-feely do-gooder princess twaddle,” he replied scathingly.
“Don’t be an arsehole, Astarion,” she told him.
“I am an arsehole, Zeneida,” he retorted. “I’ve been telling you that for essentially the entire length of our relationship, and you keep insisting —”
She rolled onto his chest, and clapped her hand over his mouth. His eyes blazed with fury, and he grabbed her wrist.
“Stop, Astarion,” she said softly. “Please stop. I know who you are, I know .”
She moved her hand away from his mouth.
“I’m sorry I covered your mouth,” she said. “But you’re trying to scare me away, and I don’t want to go away. I want to be here, so I am going to be here .”
She raised her fingers to gently stroke his hair. His jaw was tight.
But his grip on her wrist was not; he stroked her pulse point with his thumb. They stayed here like that, her stroking his hair, him stroking her wrist, before she asked,
“Am I — there really wasn’t anyone else?” she asked quietly.
“Well, I’ve been between or behind more pairs of Patriar legs than Figaro’s measuring tape,” he said casually, “to say nothing of the array of largely unmemorable, mostly tedious people.”
He looked almost bored as he watched her face. Almost.
She brushed her hair back. “Did you do it because you chose to? Because you wanted to?” she asked softly.
He didn’t disguise the intensity of his gaze now. “Every. Fucking. Time,” he told her.
She smiled at him then, pressed her lips to his collarbone. There was a little ache, but it wasn’t bad.
“That… that’s… I’m really glad to hear that, Astarion,” she said, a catch in her voice. Then she laughed, wiping at her eyes. “Gods, sorry, look at me blubbering like a fool. I’m not sad, though, truly. I’m — just…”
“Happy for me,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity she didn’t know how to manage. He reached for her, drawing her to him, raising his hand to her cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb.
“You really are so appallingly good , darling; it’s untenable,” he told her, tracing his fingers down the bare skin of her arm.
She shook her head.
“No, I’m just sentimental,” she told him, putting her head on his shoulder.
“Right,” he said. And they lay there for a while in comfortable silence, his arms around her, her nestling into him.
“There was, for the record, never anyone special. Never anyone who mattered. Not after you and not before,” he told her quietly.
She looked up at him.
“I was wrong. You deserve to hear that,” he continued.
The opportunity to quip was ripe and ready – something about him narrowing down the profusion of instances he could be referring to.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she wet her lips and pressed them together.
“And… what were you wrong about?” she asked.
“Well, technically speaking, I wasn’t so much wrong as inaccurate,” he said. “I was in denial. But I’m referring to when I… insinuated that you would be easily replaced.”
Her pulse picked up.
She looked forward. “Oh, that. Right. Well, technically speaking, that was less of an insinuation and more a declarative statement.”
Then she added softly, quietly: “Cut deep, that one.”
He was quiet for a bit as he stroked her arm.
“I was trying to hurt you, and that was wrong. And I am sorry.”
“It’s —” she cleared her throat, because her eyes were welling up again. “I accept. It’s – I forgive you.”
He smirked at her, wiping away a tear with his thumb.
“Sweet, soft little thing,” he murmured.
“I still don’t want to be a vampire, though.”
He arched a brow.
“Well it’s a good thing you aren’t one then, I suppose,” he drawled.
“I’m serious. I don’t want to. I want you to know it up front because last time —”
“This isn’t last time,” he told her.
“I know but —”
“It isn’t, I promise. No tricks,” he assured her, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. “No plans to win you over. You may not be a vampire, but you’re still an elf, and an absurdly young one at that.”
“I’m not that young,” she told him. “I’m over a hundred, a full-grown adult.”
“Hmm,” he murmured, leaning in again to kiss her throat. “You certainly are…”
She laughed.
“My point is, my position on you becoming a spawn has changed,” he told her. “We have time.”
His arms tightened around her.
“We do,” she said, giving him a grin.
“You have that deranged gremlin look about you again.”
“You like it,” she told him.
“I suppose it’s inoffensive enough,” he shrugged, and she laughed.
“You are an arsehole ,” she told him.
“We’ve been over this bit, darling. Would you like me to post a few signs – Ow! Did you just bite me?” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” she said innocently. “Do gremlins bite?”
“You’re lucky you have a feeble mortal bite. It’s not even worth comparing,” he told her disdainfully. “ Ow! You feral little beast!”
She grinned up at him.
“You love it.”
“There will be consequences for your insolence, Zeneida,” he warned.
“Uh-huh,” she said, nestling into him, nuzzling his neck.
“I am terrifying, you know,” he told her after a few moments of silence.
“Jump-scares while I’m up for snacks don’t count,” she said with a yawn.
“Can you not at least pretend some healthy fear-induced deference once in a while?” he complained petulantly.
“I mean, I’m sure I could …”
“I could terrify you,” he informed her.
“But you won’t,” she said with a yawn. “because you’re eyuni , ya’najmi, ya’habibi.”
“What’s that last one?” he asked in a purr, sliding his thumb to her jaw, his palm over her pulse.
“ Habibi ?” she asked.
“Mmhmm,” he hummed, brushing her lips with his.
“Oh, that’s ‘o my pigment-deficient one,’” she said with a grin.
He nipped her lip sharply.
“Bloody little gremlin,” he muttered.