Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Though it's been some time since this has happened, he has not missed it.

The damned True Soul, Nere, that Tav insisted on freeing in order to save those gnomes has cast a spell on him. Immediately, he recognizes the loss of control, how his body is no longer his. He would grit his teeth in fury were he able to do so.

He hears Nere saying something about becoming his thrall amidst the clang of armor and blades, the spells being thrown about. A stray arrow whizzes by his ear, but he is outwardly unfazed.

And of course, Tav - lovely little Tav - is already cursing at Nere, hand aglow with magic when she is distracted by his approach.

"Astarion?"

She's breathing heavily with the exertion of battle. Her eyes dart from Nere and then back to him, as if she's unsure what she should even do. He waits for the look in her eyes to shift into fear, like the many people he’s led to their doom; looking for an escape when it was over the moment he’d approached them.

And Gods, he feels like he’s under his command again; no free will, no chance to even attempt to save himself from it. It even feels like something he’d be forced to do in the last two hundred years – has been forced to do. Hurting innocents at someone else’s whims, though the pain of doing so had gradually tapered off throughout the years leaving nothing but indifference to it.

While she is, he supposes, an innocent, she is more than that now. She’s worse; someone he has actually started to let himself care for. All against his better judgement, of course, but he isn’t sure there is anything he could’ve done to prevent it. Astarion isn’t sure if there’s anything he would’ve done to stop it.

Has she always been so small and weak looking? The thought passes through him, though he's not sure if it's the spell or himself thinking it.

Kill her. Kill her. Kill her –

The thought grows stronger, louder with each beat, and he must obey.

"Astarion," she says his name again, this time more forcefully as if it's enough to remind him who he is.

The resolve he sees in her eyes starts giving way to something else (pain? fear?) when he doesn't stop striding to her with purpose. Purpose to hurt her, maim her, destroy her.

“T-This isn’t you!” Tav cries.

Bitterly, he thinks - how wrong you are, my dear.

“I know you don’t want to do this. Astarion! Astari-“

His body moves without him. Astarion's blade comes down on her, and even though she manages to take a clumsy step back at the very last second, he is slicing through the fabric of her robe like butter. Her flesh, too; a light spray of blood coats his face, and it feels hotter than this damned forge itself. His first real blood, so familiar now – her blood that he's drunk so many times now. Had he been in control of his own self, his tongue would probably have darted out for a taste.

Inside the prison of his body, he screams.

Tav falls back from both the force of his blow and her poor attempt to dodge. She lets out a strangled gasp, clutching her bleeding arm.

"Snap out of it! I know you can hear me!" she cries out.

He can. He wishes that was enough to halt him.

She lets go of her good arm to try and cast a spell at Nere, her last ditch effort to try to break the spell, but Astarion is faster than she is. His other blade is moving to finish her off, but there's a blow to his head and sharp pain. His body stumbles, knees colliding with the ground. While he’s somehow able to feel a modicum of relief knowing he is unable to cause her more harm, words come unbidden to him.

Dully, he thinks: She will punish you for this. Kill you for this. You deserve this. And not one person will stop her. You’re still the same scared slave in that dark kennel. You haven't changed at all.

As he feels himself falling, the last thing he sees is her - reaching for him, his name on her lips.

Fool, he thinks. Then, all goes black.

When he comes to, he is back in his tent, head absolutely throbbing. Astarion grimaces before sitting up, and then he remembers.

Instantly, it feels like his undead heart has dropped into the pit of his stomach and he can’t breathe, he-

He hurt her. Had almost killed her, at the whim of yet another zealous True Soul. At the whim of another, against his will.

The tent suddenly feels too small for him, like the walls are closing in. His eyes dart around nervously, as if waiting for a command to come yet again. To lose control, again. He fights the urge to clutch at his chest, stumbling out of the tent to see they’ve made camp in a dark, cool area of the forge. He doesn’t spot a soul, with the other tent flaps closed – presumably with his companions sleeping inside.

All except for hers.

Immediately, he feels an ice cold surge of panic. Did he actually kill her? Though he doesn't remember, maybe he had simply locked himself away in some dark recess of his mind. Hiding from all of it; it would not have been the first time. 

His ears perk up at the sound of a light clattering, and he follows, hoping beyond hope that it’s her and not some figment of his guilty imagination. He goes around one of the crumbling walls surrounding their camp and lets out a breath he doesn’t know he is holding as he spots her.

Tav is sitting there, hunched over her knees, tossing pebbles into the chasm below. To his relief, he sees her arm looks fine, though there’s still a tear in her robe. Shadowheart had probably healed her, at least – at least someone is capable of not causing her bodily harm, he thinks.

She must sense him approaching, because she turns her head ever so slightly, eyes widening when she realizes it’s him.

“You’re awake!”

And though he doesn’t understand in the slightest why, she smiles at him. She sounds happy. Relieved.

He feels like he’ll be sick.

“If your head feels like a split melon, that would be from Karlach knocking you out.” She pats the ground next to her as an invitation.

He hesitates for a moment, but Gods, he does want to sit with her. Wants to tell her he’s sorry for hurting her, make sure she’s alright, tell her that he hadn’t wanted to – he just didn’t have a choice.

Though Astarion does reluctantly take a seat on the ground next to her (had the situation been any different, he'd be making comments about sitting on what is probably the dust of skeletons and ore and mountains), what comes out of his mouth is quite different.

“Awake just in time for you to decide what to do with me, correct?” Astarion scoffs, looking out at the abyss before them. “Will it be banishment? Or perhaps a good old beheading? I do recall telling you I wouldn’t mind that too much.”

“Excuse me?”

At his refusal to look at her, he feels her hand rest on his. “Look at me, please?”

Astarion lets out one of his signature little huffs before resting his eyes on hers.

“You thought I would want you to leave? Or,” Tav makes a face. “Kill you?”

“Why, yes, darling. I did almost slice you in half just a little while ago.” He makes his voice sound light as air, as if he’s commenting on nothing of import; as if they are normal people, discussing the weather. “I’m sure everyone has been waiting for the vampire to slip up.”

Tav is silent for a moment, thinking on her next words. “I wouldn’t. I’m… hurt you would even think that. It doesn’t even - even feel right to be hurt about it, actually, seeing as you were the one affected-“

He’d almost be flabbergasted at her response if it wasn’t so… so Tav.

"To be honest," She picks up a small pebble, rolling it between her fingers. "What scared me was that you had to... live through that again. Being controlled." The last part is said quietly; sadly.

Damn her to the hells and back. Damn her and her kindness, the way she cares - it makes him feel nauseous.

Astarion doesn’t quite know what to say to her in response. Instead, he clears his throat and looks away from her again. “You’re… fine, though?”

“Yes, quite alright now. Especially now that we’ve got Nere’s head and threw his body into the lava for good measure.” It’s only now she realizes she’s still got her hand placed on his, and slowly brings it back to herself. “Are you alright?”

“What’s another instance of losing all free will?” Astarion spits out, bitterness betraying the lightness of his tone. “At least this time, no one ended up dead. No one that’s not supposed to be, at least.”

“I’m sorry that it happened,” Tav replies quietly. “I couldn’t even begin to imagine what that – how you must feel, and-“

“No, you couldn’t.” Astarion realizes how harsh the words sound after they’ve already left his mouth. “But I’d much prefer you never do find out. What that’s like,” He clarifies, softer this time.

Silence permeates the still air around them. Astarion takes in a deep breath before letting out a bigger sigh. He can at least act on his own will now, say what he wants to say to her, so he decides to embrace it. He turns his head to her.

“I’m sorry.”

He wants to hold her, maybe. Even though he could if he wants – he’s sure she would let him – he decides he doesn’t deserve to.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Tav smiles at him again, gently. He feels something in his chest clench uncomfortably.

When she looks at him like that – he is almost able to believe her.

Chapter Text

It all happens in a matter of mere moments.

"You're in my thrall, now," Nere says, and Tav drowns.

I can't feel anything; why can't I feel anything? 

Pure panic consumes her (what's left of her) as she dimly realizes her body is no longer her own. She feels like she's watching from another's eyes, but they are hers — her eyes that dart wildly around the forge, looking for someone to lunge at, to attack, and her (Nere's? Whose?) eyes fall on —

Astarion.

Please, no, not him, not him, not him.

No one hears; not Gale, not Shadowheart, and not Astarion.

And it isn't as if she would feel any better had it been one of her other allies who had become her target, but for it to be Astarion, when she knows of his centuries old pain and wishes she could relieve it — when she feels the way she does about him — it's too cruel. Tav wonders how Astarion made it through two hundred years of this and worse, and it makes her want to cry.

As if held up and moved by puppet strings, her hands are moving the bow of her violin and she swipes, the force of the thunder wave knocking the wind out of Astarion; it catches him off guard and he flies back, rolling on the ground before he jumps to his feet. Then, he looks at her, her hand already poised to play again. She has no idea what she must look like right now, but whatever he sees on her face — it changes his expression to something... hard.

Fight it, Tav. You can fight this!

"Tav, my sweet—" A grunt as he deflects a blow from a duergar who's decided to charge at him, thrusting his dagger in. "If you wanted to get a little rough, all you had to do was ask—"

His tone is light. It's the same lilting tone he uses when he's putting on a show, when the mask is on. Even in her current state, she can see an array of emotions flit through his gaze before steadying.

Now that he expects it, he dodges the the next wave nimbly and she regains some hope that he won't be hurt, least of all by her. 

"Gale!" He calls, shouting to be heard above the din of battle. Tav doesn't know where Gale even is, all she can see is Astarion lunging for her before she can throw out another spell. "Sleep, now!"

Fight harder! She urges herself, but nothing happens.

When Astarion does reach her, he disarms the instrument from her, grabbing her free hand to prevent her from going for it again. The body that is currently not her own struggles, and he's so focused on her and trying to be aware of his surroundings at the same time that he doesn't notice her other hand drop the bow, going for the dagger at her side. 

Any bit of that hope she had, it disappears when the expression on his face grows pained. She cannot feel that she's stabbed him, but she knows she did and that's enough for her to want to vomit. Blood — her blood, maybe, since he had just fed on her last night, she thinks dimly — starts seeping out from the slit where her dagger had pushed in. 

"Easy now," He says, hands gripping her wrists even as she flails about, and thankfully the dagger clanks to the ground. His eyes grow dark, and maybe a little bit sad. He whispers, "I won't let him have you, darling." 

Tav feels something hit her (a spell?) and all grows dark.

Tav falls into a magical slumber, and he catches her.

Astarion holds both her body to his and a hand to his stab wound, taking in everything around — Shadowheart appears, checking over Tav.

It is by sheer luck, he supposes, that the drow had cast his spell on her towards the end of the battle. The only enemy left standing was —

"Take her," He says.

The cleric acquiesces but not without giving him a look as he passes Tav to her. Astarion gets up, brandishing both daggers as he stalks over to where Gale has Nere caught in a Hold Person spell. 

He might say he can't imagine the fear Tav had gone through under Nere's thrall — but he knows all too well how that feels. Something in him snaps at the thought of it happening to her — Tav, who never had anything but a kind word for him despite the way he was, is — and he knows in that instant that he is going to utterly destroy him.

And he does. He doesn't even realize how much damage he's done to Nere's now cooling corpse, until Gale is trying to pull him away, saying something about how the drow's head needs to go to the myconid sovereign.

Astarion gets one last stab in anyway.

She wakes with a sense of panic.

Her body, still groggy, doesn't move at first and the fear that her body is still under Nere's control overtakes her. Her breaths come faster and faster, head light as she sits up. Though a part of her has realized she's in her tent at camp and she can move her body around, she still lets out a strangled wail.

Tav had been through much since the Nautiloid, as all of them had — but this was... to lose control over herself, how easy her body became someone else's — it terrifies her.

It terrifies her that this had just been a daily part of Astarion's life for so, so long; and at the thought of him, everything else flashes into her mind. 

She has to see him — has to know that he's alright, that she didn't kill him. She's about to drag her body out of her bedroll when the flap to her tent opens and Astarion is standing there, a strange expression on his face.

Please don't hate me, she thinks even as the relief that he's here and alive hits her.

Instead, she croaks out, "You're alright." Her hand goes up to cover her face, eyes squeezed shut because she can't look at him. She stabbed him, after all. "Thank the gods. You're alright."

"Nothing Shar's little princess couldn't fix up." He says, closer now, and she reluctantly peers at him from a crack through her fingers. Astarion sighs, though it's not unkind, and she feels his cool hand take hers away from her face. "Tav."

He would never trust her again, she thinks, even as he crouches down to her line of sight. Hells, how could he even still look at her? 

"Astarion, I..." She doesn't even know what to say. Gods, she can't even look at him without her eyes growing watery. "I thought I killed you, I thought — I don't know what I thought, I just—"

"It would take much more than that to kill me, darling. I'm a little insulted you thought otherwise, to be perfectly honest."

Somehow, it's his light tone that breaks the dam holding back everything, and her body starts to tremble.

"I wouldn't ever hurt you on purpose, I swear it—" Tav knows she's babbling now, can feel the snot running from her nose and the tears that blur her vision. The lump in her throat hurts but she continues because she needs him to know— "Astarion, please believe me, I'm sorry — I'm so sorry—"

"Hush now, darling," He says simply, low and soothing. "I believe you." 

His movements are awkward when he brings his arms around her, and she can feel the way his arms stay tense as he holds her. That comforting scent of his is stronger now that she's got her face in the crook of his neck, and slowly the sobs start to subside. The hold he has on her grows less stiff too; she isn't sure if it's her imagination, but she thinks it grows a little tighter as well.

"I... regret that you had to find out what that feels like," He murmurs, lips moving against the top of her head. "Are you alright?"

"I was scared," She whispers. "But I think I was more scared about hurting you. I'm just so glad that you're alright." She brings her arms around his neck, as if touching him will reinforce the fact that he doesn't hate her, he's here and he's okay. "And I'm so sorry that you had to go through that for so long."

"How very like you," he mutters dryly, but there is a degree of warmth in it. "Not even ten minutes past your own problems and we've arrived at your concern for mine."

"I mean it," She says, biting her lip. "I won't let that happen to you again. Not if I can help it."

Tav thinks she might feel him forming a smile, a faint movement against her hair.

"I believe you."