Archive of Our Own ^beta

That night, I lay awake on my bedroll for a long time, staring up at the unfamiliar stars overhead. I couldn’t get the conversation with Astarion out of my head. I’d never been vain like him, but even I wasn’t keen on the idea of being unable to see my own reflection. Rough and ready as I usually looked, it was reassuring to be able to look at my own face, whether I wanted to make sure I hadn’t missed a spot while cleaning or check if I’d gained a bruise.

I shifted, rolling onto my side and using the flickering light of the fire to find him with my eyes. He slept like the dead, stone still, the barest hint of movement in his chest rising and falling to show he wasn’t – or wasn’t totally. I didn’t know the specifics of being turned into a vampire spawn, and I was loathe to ask more – understandably, it seemed a bit of a touchy subject. I let my eyes wander from his chest up to his face, smoother in sleep even than when awake, and considered.

I’d called him beautiful when he’d asked me to but I could tell he hadn’t believed me. I hadn’t been lying though; from the tips of his pointed ears to the sharp cut of his cheekbones and the drip of his aristocratic drawl, everything about him was simply stunning. Just looking at him made my knees go weak, especially on the rare occasions he dropped his guard and let me in with the odd detail of his life or a confessed fear. I’d tried to ignore the feeling, to push it to the side as irrelevant in the face of everything else we had to contend with, but somehow it didn’t seem like such a waste of emotion anymore.

Moving as silently as possible amidst the highly trained and extremely edgy killers dotted about my camp, I pushed myself up and crept to the trunk where I’d stowed some of today’s loot. I hadn’t had an immediate use for the battered old journal I’d taken off an unfortunate gnome we’d found the bones of in our path earlier, but now I found I did. Astarion needed to know what he looked like - and I could show him.
I took up position as close as I dared, folding myself down cross-legged and praying my luck held out in allowing me to pass undetected. I waited a moment, searching for the telltale rise and fall to reassure me, then dipped my quill. Calm swept through me as I enjoyed the rare chance to observe without being observed in turn, every touch of pen to paper bringing my subject to life. Untrained as I am, by the time the first shadows of dawn started to streak the camp I had a recognisable portrait and was fairly happy with my efforts.

I stashed my equipment and snuck back to my bedroll, laying down and throwing an arm over my head in a futile attempt to catch a few moments of sleep before the sun rose fully. In no time at all, however, the unmistakable sounds of the rest of the camp stirring became too loud to ignore, and I gave up any attempt of snatching a quick forty winks. Resigned, I rolled over, groaning as I pushed myself up. To my surprise, I found Astarion watching me. His intense red gaze held mine for a few seconds before he looked away; I felt my cheeks heat and swiftly rose to ready myself for the day ahead.

A busy day of travel, fighting and yet more revelations – both good and bad – occupied my attention so thoroughly I didn’t get a chance to give the affair much thought until we made camp late that evening and I caught him looking at me again. Memories of the previous night rushed back and, after a moment’s hesitation, I took a deep breath and crossed the camp.

“Well hello, what can I do for you?”

His casual greeting almost, but not quite, covered his nerves and with a start I realised I could read him now – he was as flustered as I. I crossed my arms and tried to act casual.

“Well, I was wondering why you were watching me.”

He recoiled slightly at that, but then his eyes narrowed and he thrust his chin forward. “Oh really?” he sneered. “Because last night I could have sworn you were the one watching me.”

I froze, not sure what to say. I’d meant to share the picture with him, after all, but I’d never meant for him to know how I’d drawn it.

“Oh yes,” he continued, taking my silence as the confirmation it was. “I thought you meant to attack at first. I would have understood that – after all, who wants a vampire in their camp? It made sense for you to finally decide I was too much of a liability to keep around anymore.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he continued before I had a chance. “I waited for the blow to fall, wondering which method you’d choose and whether I’d have a chance to fight back. Wondering whether I even wanted to or if it would finally release me from my drudgery. But it never came.”

“I’m sorry,” I interjected, cold horror trickling down my spine. I’d never meant to scare him, let alone bring on thoughts as deep and dark as those. “I didn’t realise you were awake.”

He scoffed. “Clearly. But that still doesn’t explain what you were doing.”

After a brief pause, I dug in my pack for the journal, flipping it open to the page from last night and handing it to him. They say actions speak louder than words, and on this occasion I thought they might be right. He squinted at it for a moment, and for one horrible second I thought I might have to explain after all. Then his face changed; I could tell the exact point he realised it was a portrait of him, and I let out my breath in a huff of relief. The creases around his eyes smoothed out, his hungry gaze roaming the page for every last detail. A half smile quirked at the corner of my mouth as I watched him, lost in the image his own face. Suddenly his head jerked up, red eyes meeting mine. They were softer than I’d ever seen them, with what I suspected to be the first true smile he’d given in a while curving his lips. He seemed lost for words, and I shrugged, suddenly self-conscious again.

“Like I said. You’re beautiful.”