Chapter Text
"I told you, I am fine ," Astarion snaps.
"Well, you're not though, are you?" You argue back. "Astarion, you don't just stab someone in the fucking neck and immediately get over it,"
"Don't act like you didn't tell me to do it,"
You take a surprised step back. "I never told you to do anything. I asked you what you wanted to do,"
He doesn't respond past an aggravated huff and a shake of his head. He's been dismissing this conversation all morning and after five days of him avoiding you, you decided to bring it up again. Ever since he killed the young drow, he's been sharper, more easily agitated. He absolutely refused to engage in any kind of conversation and when at camp, he stays by himself. It's not like this behaviour is something new, but it is more concerning than before. Especially now that he's taken to jolting every time someone touches him, even if that touch is a mere brushing of shoulders in the Moonrise halls. You've seen that panic and the anger that settles immediately after.
"Astarion," you say, you're voice firm. "You can't keep ignoring me,"
"Oh, I can," he responds, his face furious. "So take the hint, darling, and leave me the fuck alone, yes?"
"No," you insist as you step forward again. He tries to turn away from you, but you lay a gentle hand on his shoulder to guide him back.
You were always convinced he trusted you. But the moment you touch him it's like alarm bells going off in his head. He snatches himself away from you with a look of pure terror in his eyes. It lingers for a lot longer than before and it's mixed with this anxiety like he can't quite believe the way he's acting.
Almost immediately, you pull your hand away. You hadn't meant to cause such a reaction and in all honesty, you hadn't even thought about not touching him just now. It just felt like a natural response, a way to get him to look at you.
"I'm sorry--" You quickly say, sounding breathless.
Slowly, his anxiety fades into fury. "I don't see what's so hard to understand. Unless you've hit your head recently, we've been killing a lot of fucking people recently. What's one more?"
A frown pulls your brows down. "This is different and you know it,"
"Is it?!" Astarion yells. "Is it fucking really?"
His sudden outburst is quick to gain the attention of the others at camp. You turn to look over your shoulder, taking in their concerned expressions. As you turn back, you softly say, "it's very different,"
Astarion scoffs. "If one fucking drow has you welling up with tears then maybe you should reconsider being here. Clearly you're not made out to be a leader so I guess I have no use for you,"
"What?"
"You," Astarion scoffs with both hands gesturing to you. "You and your big fucking dreams and so called leadership skills. What kind of leader can't even protect their followers from people out to hurt them?"
You feel the confused frown settling on your face, though you don't get a chance to add any words to it before Astarion shoves past you. Karlach attempts to reach out for him as he storms past her tent, but he's just as quick to scream at her to get away from him before he marches away. Your watery eyes just barely manage to meet hers before you force yourself to turn away from the crowd.
Facing his tent, you blink hard to keep the tears at bay. He's right in one thing, you are a leader. And you have a group of people relying on you. Your moment of weakness will have to wait.
When you turn back to everyone, you catch the concern in their eyes. But with a forced smile, you call out to bring them over. Orders leave your lips so naturally, making sure dinner is made and served without any fights or drama breaking out. But said dinner feels almost pointless when Astarion isn't there to join you all.
You knew the drow had been bothering him, but you never realised to what extent. Killing people is a daily routine. But this - this was so different. This wasn't routine, this was pure fucking survival. He did what he felt he had to to keep himself safe. You struggle to feel bad for the drow, especially after terrifying Astarion with such a harsh grab and the forceful demands to bite her neck. But that doesn't mean Astarion isn't feeling that grief. That pain and still - that terror.
The night feels slow and cold after dinner. The sky has fully darkened by now and there's still no sign of Astarion. You doubt he'll have wandered far whilst being in the underdark, but it still doesn't ease the anxiety for his safety.
Any time someone mentioned him, you brushed it off. Not to come off as selfish or rude, but because you knew you'd break down in tears if you were forced to talk about him. You can't help but feel a little stupid for feeling so upset, but at the same time, you try to understand yourself. He's never yelled at you like that. He's never looked at you like that. You don't think you've ever seen him truly angry before.
The fire is beginning to die out and most of the group are asleep. Around this time of night, it's usually only Lae'zel who stays awake, insisting that someone keeps watch. You doubt she even sleeps half the time. She casts you a barely-there look, though you can't miss that same concern that the others had. She'd never admit it, of course, but she's just as worried about Astarion as the rest.
Your eyes settle on the fire once more, taking in the burning embers until your eyesight goes blurry. After a few moments more, you push yourself up from your bedroll with a huff. Sitting beside the fire is a bowl of the rabbit stew everyone had helped make tonight. The bowl is hot when you touch it, but not enough to keep a hold of it.
In the darkness of the camp, you can only rely on the moonlight. It leads you past the tents and towards the edge of the camp where a large ledge sits. Astarion sits on the edge, both legs pulled up to his chest. He doesn't seem to acknowledge your presence at all, even as you sit down next to him.
Silence passes. The underdark is laid out in front of you, though the shadow curse is unable to break through the multiple torches set up along the pathway leading up to camp. As you turn away from the view to look at Astarion to set the bowl down beside him, you softly say, "I'm sorry,"
He doesn't respond, which isn't exactly unexpected. But it does hurt.
You awkwardly shuffle on the ground, busying your hands by pushing the bowl a little closer to him. "We made dinner earlier. It's still hot,"
Still, nothing. Each lack of a response has an unbearable ache growing in your chest. You hate to see him dealing with so much pain alone.
"It's rabbit stew," you say as if he'll even care. "We didn't cook the meat in yours so the blood should be enough to keep you full until we can find something else,"
He glances at bowl then at you before he looks away again. "Care for a secret?" He asks, his voice hoarse like he hasn't spoken in centuries.
You frown in confusion. "A what?"
"A secret," he repeats. "Something that's been on my mind,"
You're quite for a moment. Then, "okay,"
For a long while, Astarion says nothing at all. Though as his mouth opens, his entire body tenses. "I don't think I would have ever lost it if I had the chance at a redo,"
"It?" You ask.
Another moment of silence. Astarion's brows furrow as he responds. "My virginity,"
Oh. Honestly, you don't know what to say to him. All you can do it sit in silence, allowing him space to work through this on his own.
He slowly turns his head to look at you. Exhausted eyes take you in for a long while before he turns away again. In that time, you're able to take in the stress lines, the dark circles, the loss of light. It's all been building these past couple days and it makes him look sickly. He's barely been eating and it's showing drastically. The last meal he had was a drunk criminal they met on the road before even getting to Moonrise.
Astarion slowly closes his eyes and exhales. "I can't remember if I was even a virgin when I was turned. All I remember is this sick feeling every time I seduced someone. None of it seemed worth it or fun. I've never understood why people crave sex so much,"
"I think it depends on the person," you say, your voice soft. "Not everyone likes it,"
He scoffs like he doesn't believe you. But you suppose you can't blame him. You doubt he's ever met a person that hasn't wanted to take him to bed. Everyone he's ever been with was forced, an expectation set by a cruel master.
"There's a term," you tell him. "Asexual,"
"A-what?"
"Asexual," you repeat. "It's when someone doesn't experience sexual attraction,"
When he looks at you again, it's with a confused look on his face. His lips part and close multiple times before he's able to say something, and even then, it's extremely quiet. "Is that what I am?"
"Maybe," you softly respond. "There'd be nothing wrong with it if you are,"
How that shock makes him look so much younger. It's as if you're looking back at a child who is just now discovering parts of the world. That fear, that anxiety, all of it swimming in his eyes. He looks absolutely petrified yet... Relieved.
"I thought there was something wrong with me," he says very, very quietly. "I thought maybe after all those years of torture that I was broken. That I'd lost myself,"
You take in a shuddery breath. "I won't say what you went through didn't cause significant change. You're hardly bound to be the same person as before. But that doesn't make you broken,"
"I couldn't even control myself from killing a young woman, how does that make me not broken?"
"Well, to be fair, she did ask for it," you mutter before you realise that probably wasn't the right response. Despite the small smile on his face, you back track. "I asked you if you wanted to do it and you said no. Only after she pushed you did you kill her. That sounds like you were in control the entire time. And honestly? I think you had every right to protect yourself,"
"Encouraging violence are we?" He chuckles. "How very therapeutic of you,"
You scoff, though it doesn't go without a smile. "We're not normal people, Astarion. We're not Baldarians living in the city anymore. We're rouges, on the road, just trying to survive. Sometimes you have to go out of your way to make people understand that we will do what we have to to stay alive,"
"I just-- I wish people like her understood the meaning of the word no,"
"I know," you softly say.
"It's unfair," he continues, lifting his head to look at you properly. "She had no fucking right to touch me. No one has the right to do what they want with me. Not anymore. It just feels like a fucking set up. How can I leave one abuser just to be thrust upon another? I don't want to be looked at as a sexual object. I want to be seen . I want to be heard . Is that so much to ask for?"
"No," you murmur. "You just have to find the people willing to treat you like a person,"
"It should be a given,"
You nod. "You're right, it should be. But it's not. And I won't pretend otherwise. Some people are cruel and selfish and are just out to hurt you. But while you're surrounded by friends, no one will ever be able to touch you without your consent again,"
"I don't much like the idea of that," Astarion shrugs as he turns away. "The idea of having an almighty protector that I have to cower behind,"
"Who said anything about cowering? You're free to protect yourself. We're just here to give you a lending hand. Or blade,"
Astarion slowly turns his head, but his eyes don't move up. Though, even from here, you can see the tears welling up. "I feel like I need to be grieving,"
"For the woman?" You ask.
He nods before scoffing. "It's not like she bloody deserves it. Touching me without asking, she deserved to get stabbed,"
He's so quick to put up his walls, forcing himself to smile and even chuckle like the situation amuses him. But his tears give him away. You understand that devastation. You understand the fear.
"There's nothing wrong with being upset over it. You can't just get over something like this,"
"I can,"
Your brows crease and your lips part, but you're unsure of what to say. You're moments away from being locked out again, kept in the cold until he decides to open the door to you. But maybe that's what needs to happen. You can't force him to keep those doors open. He has to learn when to close them and when to keep them open.
"For a person who spent two hundred years in a torturous cycle, you are incredibly resilient, do you know that?" You say, moving a little closer. You don't dare touch him, but you hope that your presence is enough of a comfort.
"I'm not in my own head half the time," Astarion mutters. "Someone brushed my arm before. My arm . I was immediately gone after that,"
"You can't help the things that trigger you. Sometimes our brains just need a break from the world and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that,"
He sighs like you don't quite get it. "It's not--" He stops and shakes his head. "I don't want to be vacant my entire life. After two hundred years of shit, I think I deserve to experience the world. For as long as the tadpole allows me to,"
"And you think you're just going to be fine?" You ask. "Just like that?"
"Why not?" He snaps, his head shooting up to glare at you.
"Because that's not how it works. And you can't keep treating me like shit when I tell you that, either,"
His glare stays on you, but you see the way his eyes soften around the edges. "I don't want you to keep reminding me. I don't want to keep remembering that I can't just be okay,"
You stay quiet, just looking at him. That fear, despite his frown, is still so apparent. You know how terrifying it is to check out of your own mind without even meaning to. You understand it all. The grief you feel when your realise how much of your life you've lost and how much you're still losing. But you know it won't be this way forever. Sometimes you need reminding, no matter how painful it is.
"Sometimes, I don't know who I am," you say. "It feels like I've lost years because I just can't remember a lot of what happened to me. But I haven't lost anything, not really. Those years haven't just been checked off and thrown into the abyss. They happened and we both have to learn to live with that and heal from it. And I will keep reminding you to talk about what hurts you until you learn, because Astarion--" You pause to take in a sharp breath. "You can't keep all of this pain to yourself. Does it not feel absolutely unbearable?"
His scowl drops, but he turns his head away before you get to see his next expression settle in. Even so, you can tell by his voice that he's on the verge of tears.
"It's heavy. I feel heavy,"
"So do I. All I want is to take some of that weight off of you,"
He scoffs. "With your own baggage, you'd only be weighed down even more,"
"That's not exactly true," you say. "Someone else's baggage somehow always feels much lighter to carry than my own,"
"I think you just have a need to fix people," Astarion mutters, just barely looking at you over his shoulder.
"Of course I do. It's easier to help others than it is to help myself,"
He's quiet for a moment. Then, "I don't know if I'm quite ready to give you everything that hurts me," he softly says. "But if you're being kind enough to help me, then I guess it's only right that I do the same,"
"Even if it's just one thing that bothered you a day, it would be enough. I'm not expecting you to lay out your entire history for me, I just want to make sure you know you have people around you willing to help. You're not on your own anymore, Astarion. Even if it takes years for you to accept that, we'll never stop telling you,"