Gods, You're Beautiful

by teethfallingout

Summary:

"It's okay," Tav said. "We don’t need to pretend I’m something I’m not.”

Halsin saw Astarion’s suave, unaffected mask crack.

“You think we’re pitying you.”

The party stumbled through Lady Jannath’s freshly-unhaunted mansion after her twice-saved paramour. It was easier said than done. The ghosts may have been gone, but the fine furniture they’d weaponized still littered the floor in so many pieces. Astarion dodged it all with his usual grace, scoffing at the notion of being “paid” in something other than gold by such an obnoxiously rich woman. Shadowheart opened her mouth to say something dry and sarcastic, but caught her boot on the remains of an armchair’s fluffy innards before she and Astarion could get a proper rally going. Halsin lumbered through the debris with the same attitude he’d take towards traversing some uncooperative brush.  And Tav…

Halsin glanced over his shoulder at the half-orc in question. Tav trailed behind the rest of the group, quiet, eyes downcast.

It was strange. Usually Tav led the charge wherever they went, from battles to taverns and anywhere in between. And why did he look vaguely uncomfortable? He seemed fine during the fight. An injury, maybe? Mmm, no, that was unlikely. There was no blood on him and he didn’t move as if in pain, not to mention he’d never been shy about asking for healing when he needed it before.

Perhaps Halsin was overthinking things. It wouldn’t have been the first time he invented a problem, rather than noticed one.

They arrived at the atelier proper. Oscar flitted about the studio, corralling the necessary paints and brushes with enthusiasm. He put a blank canvas on the easel, took a step back to scrutinize it, then tutted and switched it out for what looked to Halsin to be an identical, equally blank canvas.

“Now, if the man of the hour would take a seat, we can begin,” Oscar said, looking at Tav and gesturing to a tall stool near the window. For his part, Tav completely failed to notice he’d been addressed at all, still staring holes into the floor.

“Ah, darling? That’s your cue.” Astarion put a hand on Tav’s arm and he startled to attention. He turned to Astarion, and his demeanor shifted from pensive to something bordering excitement.

“I have a better idea,” Tav said, sliding one hand to the small of Astarion’s back and steering him to the seat by the window. Large, calloused hands pushed gently on Astarion’s shoulders, encouraging him to sit.

“We both know I’m easy on the eyes, love, but I’m not the one who saved his sorry skin. Twice.”

“Astarion,” Tav said, grinning, “if he paints your portrait, you’ll be able to see yourself. You could look at it whenever you like.” Astarion’s eyes went just a touch wide. Tav turned to Oscar. “Paint him instead, please.”

Oscar’s mouth drew into a pout. “Well, if that’s what you want, then who am I to deny my rescuer.” The artist pulled over some different paints to accommodate the change – more whites, more reds. “Your friend is not wrong, at least. He’s certainly no chore to look at.” Astarion’s expression turned a touch smugger at the comment and he straightened his posture.

“And he knows it,” Tav laughed. His shoulders relaxed – when did they get so stiff? – and he stepped back, leaning against the doorframe as Oscar got to work. He and Shadowheart struck up a conversation to pass the time. Shadowheart repeatedly guided it in directions she knew would get a rise out of Astarion – “Honestly, Amnian wine might have the more impressive price tag, but its flavor isn’t any better than ithbank,”— knowing that every time he tried to cut in, Oscar would scold him for moving.

Halsin watched the proceedings quietly, feeling like he’d tripped into something important.

---

When Tav decided to commune with the astral-touched tadpole, he didn’t discuss it with anyone. Halsin simply looked up one morning and saw Tav strolling across the camp, face marked by the evidence of what he had done. Halsin’s heart caught in his throat.

It was early enough that most of their company was still asleep. Halsin spared a glance to Astarion’s tent, confirming he had yet to rise, before crossing the distance between him and Tav with haste.

“My heart, you – why—” Halsin paused, took a deep breath. Steadied the fear rushing through his mind. “When you rejected The Emperor’s offer before, you were so adamant. I thought you didn’t want to use it.”

“I didn’t. Then Orin kidnapped Lae’zel,” Tav said. If he was at all affected by Halsin discovering him, his expression betrayed nothing of it. “Every day we fail to get to her is another day Orin could do, well, gods, I don’t want to imagine what she could do. What she will do. I can’t afford to be cautious now.” He inclined his head. “You disapprove?”

“Never.” Halsin grasped one of Tav’s hands in his own. “You have earned my trust a hundred times over – I won’t begin doubting your judgement now. I only worry for you. You feel well?”

“Better than, as much as I don’t want to admit it. I’m stronger now. If it turns out that it comes with some nasty fallout later… I hope it doesn’t, but if it does then I’ll carry that weight.”

Halsin’s lips drew into a thin line and he gripped Tav’s hand a little more firmly. “You take on so much risk yourself, you leave me feeling helpless. I almost wish I had a tadpole of my own, that I could weather this in your stead.”

Tav put on his most reassuring smile. “As if I would ever let anything happen to that handsome face.”

The flirtation was soft and honey-sweet. It should have cut through the tension like a well-whetted blade.

Should have. But didn’t.

Something about what Tav said felt… off. Halsin leveled an appraising look at him, trying to figure out if there was some deeper implication in Tav’s words, but Tav only met his stare without flinching, as if his meaning had been obvious. So instead, Halsin leaned into Tav’s space, close enough that their breaths mingled, wordlessly asking for a kiss. Tav was happy to oblige.

Halsin always kissed with passion, but he did so now with more fervor still, like he had a point to make.

---

Halsin was a bear with a bone. Something weighed on his love and he ached to understand what that something was. And sure enough, the clues were small but numerous and undeniable, once he knew to look for them. He saw them in a split moment’s hesitation when Astarion waxed poetic over Tav, in a stiff smile as Tav opted to ignore a Flaming Fist’s inappropriate comments, in a too-deep breath when Jahiera’s son recounted a story of his youth. On and on and on.

Alone, any one of them might have been innocuous, but together they brought Halsin to a painful conclusion.

Tav’s self-esteem had always left something to be desired. Halsin thought the revelations about his connection to Bhaal and his part in the Absolute plot were the cause, but he realized now that wasn’t entirely true.

Tav’s image of himself had been marred long before then.

Halsin was a fool. He wanted to punish himself for not realizing it sooner. He wanted to tear apart everyone who had made Tav think he was lesser. He wanted to hold Tav close until he saw himself the way Halsin saw him.

Instead, he went to Astarion.

---

“Is Halsin right?”

Tav met Astarion’s question with shamed, irritated silence.

“My heart, please. Talk to us.”

Unable to stomach the scrutiny, Tav broke eye contact to glare at the ground.

It was as much a confirmation as anything.

“So when I tell you how beautiful you are, when Halsin goes on about you being a pinnacle of nature, you just, what? Think we’re having a joke at your expense?”

“No!” Tav jolted, eyes whipping back to Astarion. “I only…” He took a shaky breath. “I know you’re both sincere. But I also know what people think when they see me. You two still love me despite it, and that’s more than I could ask for. We don’t need to pretend I’m something I’m not.”

Halsin saw Astarion’s suave, unaffected mask crack.

“You think we’re pitying you.”

Tav’s head fell forward, hiding his eyes. “It’s okay. Really. I know you mean well. We don’t have to talk about this.”

Astarion stepped into Tav’s space. Their height difference was such that, with Tav’s head bowed as it was, Astarion’s lips almost brushed Tav’s when he looked up. Astarion moved his hands to cradle either side of Tav’s face, one thumb brushing over the dark veins near an eye. He guided Tav down just a little further, not to kiss him, but to rest their foreheads together.

“Let me in,” Astarion commanded. And then Tav felt a tadpole pulling at the edges of his mind, requesting entrance. Astarion hated using his tadpole like this. Sharing thoughts this way was always a two-way street, and Astarion did not enjoy baring himself so completely. But Tav was worth it.

Tav let him in, and they were each overwhelmed.

A flurry of memories, all crashing together in the rush to explain themselves, flooded into Astarion’s mind.

Waking on the natauloid and, even with no memory, understanding on some innate level that people were not going to like him because of his size, his skin, his tusks. That gnome they cut down from the windmill not even knowing what manner of creature Tav is. Being propositioned by Lae’zel, Gale, Karlach, and knowing he is a viable option only because they all have death sentences crawling through their brains and will reach for anyone nearby so long as it makes them feel alive. Then, Astarion asking, and Tav feels ashamed but he is dying and scared too, and he agrees. The human that exposed the Grove to the Absolute’s minions assuming he is violent and dimwitted. High off victory over a small army of goblins, forgetting himself, flirting with Halsin and then crashing back to reality at his gentle rejection. Oscar declaring he’ll pay Tav back for his rescue with a painting, and Tav panics inside, please, please don’t paint me. Passing by cage after cage of trapped spawn below Cazador’s mansion, not seeing a single half-orc among them, and remembering Astarion’s words – ‘Cazador had me fetch him the most beautiful souls I could find.’ He and Astarion and Halsin all tangled up in sheets together, and he is a mockery lying between such handsome men. Seeing his altered face in the mirror after using The Emperor’s special tadpole and feeling nothing, because his face was never an asset to begin with. Just a moment ago, Halsin and Astarion looking at him full of worry and love and it’s okay it’s okay we don’t have to pretend stop pretending stop looking at me like that STOP–

Astarion hadn’t needed to breathe in a long, long time, but long-forgotten instincts had him gasping for air now, the pressure of Tav’s anxiety so intense it felt physical. He almost severed the connection between their minds from the force of it. Except, Astarion hadn’t done what he needed to yet. He understood more keenly than most what it took to show as much vulnerability as Tav showed him now, he treasured that trust, but it wasn’t what he had Tav let him in for.

Astarion concentrated, and tugged Tav under into his memories.

Pale hands against a large, gray torso, nails scraping lightly across scars and through chest hair as they drag down. Astarion feels—

Tav pulled away, radiating fear, convinced he knew what was coming. Arrogant bastard. It was just as well Astarion was the one with the tadpole – were their positions reversed, Halsin surely would have let Tav go, afraid to cross any boundaries. Astarion fought the memory back into focus.

--Astarion feels relief. Tav’s body is a little different from the ones he’s been forced to service. It’s not a cure, his past still claws at him, but with Tav it claws less. Feeling anything less than total revulsion isn’t just a pleasant surprise – it’s hope that he might not be completely broken. And Tav is sweet, earnest, attentive. It might not be such a thankless task to seduce him, after all.

The memory flickered, switching itself out for another scene some tendays later.

They’re lying on Tav’s bedroll – it’s always Tav’s, never Astarion’s, even though his is far more plush. Astarion doesn’t want it to start smelling like someone else. He hasn’t had anything that’s only his in such a long time.

Tav is curled into his side, naked and asleep. He looks so relaxed, like this. In a way he doesn’t during the day. A pale hand comes into view, hesitates, then rests itself on Tav’s neck. Tav has been letting Astarion feed from him often, since discovering his nature. His neck is peppered with puncture marks in various states of recovery. Astarion is thankful that they will fade to nothing in time, wishes he himself were so lucky. His hand glides up Tav’s neck, his jaw, traces one tusk then a thick lower lip. Tav doesn’t stir. Astarion leans in—

--he jerks away before he completes the motion. What in the hells is he doing. Tav is asleep. There’s nothing to be gained from continuing the performance.

He extracts himself from Tav, retreats to his own tent, and wills himself to trance.

Rest doesn’t come easily, that night.

The memory flickered again.

They’re in Moonrise Towers. That drow woman’s eyes rake over him. Astarion almost fails to compose himself when the stench of her blood hits him – it’s vile in a way he hasn’t experienced before, alive but somehow rotting, boiling, burning. She makes her sales pitch, barters with Tav for Astarion’s bite like he’s market produce. He tries to turn her down himself, but she ignores him. His stomach lurches. He’s always been a product, but he’d foolishly begun to hope those days were behind him. Panic rises up his body—

Tav rejects her offer.

Astarion startles, looks over at Tav. Tav’s face is scrunched up like he can smell her blood too. He stays only long enough to tell the woman Astarion is his own man, then leads the party out of the room.

They’re in an enemy stronghold. The last thing any of them should feel is ‘safe.’ But Astarion looks at the tense lines of muscle in Tav’s back, and that’s exactly what he feels.

Flicker.

Heartbreak consumes him whole. His vision is blurred by tears. One of Halsin’s large hands rests on his shoulder, quivering.

Tav is dead.

He bested Orin, and Bhaal took him anyway. And Astarion was powerless to do anything about it.

He wants to rage at the gods, petty useless wretched creatures, failing him every step of his miserable life only to take more from him after he’s cobbled something together without their help. He is broken. He can feel the rumble of Halsin’s voice, but he can’t hear it, all sound reduced to a single impossibly high pitch ringing without end.

A shape moves across his distorted vision. He ignores it until it nears Tav’s body, then suddenly the body moves. Halsin rushes to Tav’s side and Astarion drops to his knees. He rubs the wetness from his eyes, afraid he’s only imagining a miracle, but his vision clears and Tav is awake, his large frame made to look almost small cradled in Halsin’s arms. Withers stands over them, spouting some divine garbage Astarion doesn’t have the wherewithal to parse, but who cares. Tav is alive.

Tav leans into Halsin, then cranes his neck until he finds Astarion, and smiles. It’s soft and perfect and too much. Astarion’s own vulnerability strangles him. He can’t let Tav see. His mask slams back over him, all smug comments and amused smirks. Halsin gives him an infuriatingly understanding look, but says nothing. And if his puffy eyes give him away, Tav doesn’t let on either.

Flicker.

He is in love.

Gods below, he is in love.

He’s known for a while, but only now that Cazador is dead does he have the energy to acknowledge it. He’d thought real love was beyond him, after everything. That whatever imitation of it he might still be capable of would feel like a shackle. He’s overcome with joy to discover he was wrong.

Astarion brings Tav to his grave. It should be terrifying to share his thoughts without guile or pretense, but he looks into Tav’s eyes and the words come easily. He holds nothing back. Tav beams.

They make love in the graveyard. Tav is gentle, asks more than once if this is still okay. Every time he does Astarion wants to kiss him harder. When Tav tries flipping onto his stomach, Astarion stops him. He wants to see Tav’s face. The admission makes Tav’s eyes flicker with surprise and Astarion doesn’t understand why.

He gives Tav everything he has. Tav gives back just as eagerly. Astarion still isn’t used to a partner that considers his enjoyment, but he’s learning.

And when Tav comes, Astarion is overwhelmed by his beauty.

Astarion stopped concentrating, and the connection between the tadpoles fell away.

Tav’s face came back into focus where he held it above him. He didn’t look scared and pained the way he had before. Now he looked awed. A tear fell from his eyes and onto Astarion’s face, running down a sharp cheekbone as if Astarion was crying too.

It was impossible to lie, in memories. They could fade, or be altered by time or magic, but not changed by simple force of will. Which meant, everything Astarion showed Tav was…

“It’s the truth.” Tav’s voice sounded choked. “You really think that I’m… that I’m…”

“Gorgeous? Stunning? Fucking breathtaking?”

“Worthy.”

Astarion managed not to sob, but it was a close thing.

“Oh, my love. I know you are. So does Halsin. And anyone else with sense.” Astarion shifted his weight to his toes, pushing himself up and grazing his lips against Tav’s. “So tell me, darling, where has your sense gone?”

Tav laughed, a small broken thing. His arms came around Astarion, hovering and hesitant. The vampire sighed indulgently and hugged him, giving Tav the encouragement he needed to squeeze Astarion against his chest. Astarion gave an indignant squeak but did not pull away.

“Get in here, druid,” Astarion said, muffled. Halsin’s thick arms encircled them both, trapping Tav in an elf sandwich. He rested his head on Tav’s shoulder, and Tav felt it grow damp with tears.

All three of them went to bed in Tav’s tent, that night. Tav was exhausted and found sleep quickly.

“Thank you, Astarion,” Halsin murmured, quiet enough not to wake their lover. “I know sharing your memories isn’t easy.”

“Yes, well. You were right – he needed more convincing than simple words could give.”

Halsin reached out, and Astarion rolled his eyes but took the hand that was offered to him. They leaned over Tav and kissed, slow and deep, before bracketing Tav on either side and falling into trance, their fingers still entwined where they rested on Tav’s chest.