Work Text:
Tavor’s eyes snapped open with a shuddering gasp, head fuzzy and scrambled, disoriented. He’d been sleeping, he wasn’t sure what woke him, but- No, he was… standing?
He couldn’t remember waking up, he couldn’t remember moving, but he was stood up now, on the opposite side of the fire from where his bedroll lay, the forest dark and still around him. Something coated his hands and arms, thick and sticky, and he lifted them in confusion that quickly melted into horror.
Blood.
His hands were covered in it, the viscera splattered violently up his arms and stained his sleeves. He could feel it, now, even on his face, he could taste the iron on his tongue. What did I do? He thought fearfully. Glancing down at his feet, it was as though a bucket of ice water were tipped over his head, freezing every part of his body, muscles locking up painfully as his heart lurched. No, no no no, he couldn’t have- He didn’t- Not her.
Alfira lay crumpled below him, utterly... torn apart. There were no other words to describe it. Her stomach was ripped open, intestines strewn about around her, one of her own horns stabbed into her abdomen. Everything was covered in blood, and her mouth was open in a silent scream, and Gods, her eyes- Tavor stared down at her in shock. What happened to her? What had done this? A beast? But the camp was empty, nothing and no one around. No one but Tavor, soaked in her blood.
You did this. He shook his head, bile creeping up his throat.
“No, no. No, I would never- I didn’t want to hurt her!” He screamed, walking backwards from her corpse frantically. He fell, landing hard on his ass, and still he scuttled away, trying to put distance between himself and her because he wasn’t safe.
You did. You laughed as she cried. You drank in her lovely screams. You couldn’t stop smiling.
He felt his lips turn up against his will, and he slapped a hand over his mouth with a cry, body quaking at the force of which he shook his head.
“NO! No, I didn’t. Please, please no. I’m sorry.” He cried, hunching in on himself, fingers curing into his hair and tugging harshly. He sobbed, chest heaving, heart pounding as he blubbered useless apologies and pleas. None of them would bring Alfira back, none of them would clean the blood from his skin. His breath hitched. The congealed blood covering him was suddenly painfully unbearable, searing him like a brand, and he needed it off.
He scrubbed, nails raking down along his arms like blades, clawing away the gore viciously. He couldn’t stop, not until he was clean, not until it was all gone. He needed it gone. Please, please.
Something grabbed his wrist, pulling it away from his arm, and he wailed.
“NO! NO! Get it off, I need to get it off, please, I’m sorry-“
They’re going to kill you. You’re a monster, they can see it now.
He trembled, crying out at the hands holding him down. He wouldn’t blame them for killing him, he was a murderer, but he selfishly hoped they’d make it quick and painless.
“Tavor, wake up, damn you!”
“Back away, don’t crowd him.”
Something touched his cheek softly, and he flinched, whimpering. This was it, they were going to slit his throat. The touch remained gentle, simply moving back and forth just under his right eye, and he sucked in a breath, confused.
“There you are, come back, wake up.” The deep voice beckoned, so unlike the dark whispers that haunted his mind. Tavor figured he owed them at least this much, so he did as asked, pulling open his sticky eyelids and staring up blearily. He could only barely make out the dark shadow that hovered over him, but a few blinks later had his vison clearing up. Gale was above him, staring down with a look of relief.
“Finally awake, my friend?” He asked. His hand was still pressed to Tavor’s face. Tavor glanced around, spotting Astarion and Shadowheart off to the left, their expression’s unreadable, and Wyll to the right, standing with arms crossed. He looked back at Gale, shuddering.
“m sorry.” He whispered uselessly. Any minute now someone would lunge forward and end him, he knew it.
“Think nothing of it, we’ve all had a nightmare or two before, I’m sure.”
“Night terror more like! Hells, soldier, I thought someone was dying!” Karlach’s voice came somewhere behind him, and he flinched, curling into himself and ducking his head.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean too, I don’t know what happened.”
“Calm, my friend. What do you mean?” Gale asked, now touching Tavor’s shoulder.
“She- She’s dead. I didn’t mean too, I just woke up, I’m sorry-“
“Tavor, breathe, please! Who are you speaking of? No one is hurt, other than yourself.”
What? Tavor looked down at his hands, finding them clean of all gore, arms covered only in scratches from his own nails. The taste of iron in his mouth was also absent, and when he sat up and flipped around, there was no destroyed body to be seen.
He shuddered, mouth dry. “The- The bard. Alfira-“
“Asleep, in her bedroll on the other side of camp. Near the mirror, remember?” Wyll spoke up calmly. Tavor shivered again. He needed to be sure, he had to know. He stood on shaky legs, ignoring the sounds of confusion from everyone as he ran toward the mirror, stopping only when he spotted Alfira sleeping comfortably, chest rising and falling with soft breaths, her horns intact and skin free of any injury. His stomach lurched as he thought about the way she’d looked in his dream, so vivid, so real, he could nearly still smell the blood. But she was fine. He hadn’t hurt her. He stepped back, trembling.
“Tavor? What in the hells is going on?” Astarion asked harshly, though his eyes betrayed his concern.
“I thought I killed her.” He whispered, face oddly blank. “The voice in my head… It said I did… It felt so real, there was so much blood-“
“Well, she’s most certainly alive, darling, I can hear her heart beating from here. Now sit down before you collapse.”
“Indeed, why don’t we go sit back down?” Gale offered, leading Tavor back to his bedroll. He followed silently, feeling raw and wrung out, nearly numb. At some point Shadowheart must have healed the gouges in his arms, as the dark red lines disappeared, and distantly he thought he’d need to thank her in the morning. All of them really. But for now, he simply listened as Gale distracted him by talking about some thing or other, and sipped the tea Astarion wordlessly handed him. Scratch ambled over and made himself comfortable at Tavor’s side, his weight and warmth a welcomed comfort. Tavor sighed, listening to Gale, his mind finally blessedly quiet.