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The sharp smell of medicinal herbs burned in her nose, wafting over her as the pillows beneath her head and neck were readjusted once more. Pain followed fast on its heels, a phantom compared to what she’d felt earlier, before she’d blacked out entirely.
“How’s that, darling?” Astarion’s nimble fingers prodded at the pillows, fluffing them as best as he could without disturbing her. He drew her from her memories, from the blinding pain that had sent her into unconsciousness.
She whined, wrinkling her nose as another wave of smell hit her, the ointments smeared across her wounds seeping through the bandages wrapped around them. It burned as she breathed it in, daggers piercing the inside of her nose and scratching at the back of her throat. Pain radiated up her side and she shifted, nearly gagging as the smell grew stronger.
“Hurts,” was all she could manage, her voice cracking from the effort.
He huffed, crossing his arms and stepping back to examine his work. “I think that’s the best you’re going to get, my love. As much as I wish to, I cannot turn the bed into clouds.”
“Thank you for trying,” she murmured, barely stifling a groan as she shifted.
She kept trying to find a comfortable position and yet she could find none. No matter how she lay she could not take the pressure off of all her wounds, and the pure frustration of it all made her eyes burn, angry tears pooling in the creases of her eyes. It painted the world in quicksilver and moonbeams, and yet she could find no comfort in the facsimile of the calm of the night.
“Don’t cry, please.” Astarion’s voice quivered, his brow drawing together. Somehow his skin grew paler, blanching at the sight of her tears. “Please, darling. You’re scaring me.”
She sniffled, reaching up to wipe her tears away, hissing in pain as her body grew taut, muscles and skin tight from the burns she’d sustained. Her bottom lip quivered, a sob caught in her throat, too weak to even wail.
“Oh my darling,” Astarion cooed, voice soft as feather-down. His hands hovered above her, as if hesitant to touch her. “You’re going to be okay.”
She whimpered. Was she? Was she truly going to be okay? She wanted to reach for him, but useless as she was, she could not even raise her hands to wipe her face, let alone hold him.
She watched as he seemed to come to some sort of resolution, his fingers delicately lowering to brush the tears from her eyes. Her vision cleared for the barest of moments before more tears trekked down her cheeks, the salt stinging where it seeped into her bandages.
“You’re going to get through this.” He brushed back loose strands of hair that had fallen across her cheek, caught in the ointment smeared on her skin. “You’re strong, my love. You were strong enough to survive such powerful magic. You’ll survive this.”
She wasn’t so sure about that. Although she’d survived the initial attack, she didn’t know if she was going to make it through the after-effects.
She hadn’t been thinking when it had all happened, shoving a child out of the way of their assailant, only to be swathed in burning pain. There had been no thoughts of putting up a shield, of casting a spell to push the attacker back. There had only been the thread of panic that had burst in her mind, her body moving before her mind could catch up.
When it had first washed over her she’d thought it fire, but then it had become worse. So terribly worse.
She’d learned, once she’d awoke, covered in the stinking ointment and bandaged, that it had been acid. A horrible homemade concoction that had very nearly killed her from its potency.
But she could not find it in herself to regret it, not really. She had managed to survive, but that child would not have. And her stepping in the way of the attack had been enough of a distraction for Astarion to make a killing blow.
Although she doubted she would make it through the consequences of her actions. Namely the reeking ointment and the near-unbearable pain.
As if reading her thoughts, Astarion clicked his tongue. “Don’t be so dramatic. You can survive anything , darling. Even a little homemade potion.”
She huffed, looking away. It hurt to speak, and yet she couldn’t help herself as she snapped back at him. “It’s a lot more than a homemade potion.”
“Well, it was homemade. He was a master artificer and wizard. I don’t think he bought it from a market.”
Groaning, she squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would staunch the flow of tears. “It hurts so much, Astarion.”
When he responded his voice was quieter, softer. “I know, darling.”
“I feel like I’m being burned alive.”
He didn’t answer this time, not at first. Silence descended, heavy, uncomfortable as her bandages.
It was more unbearable than the lingering sting of the acid, and she opened her eyes, the world limned in silver once more, searching for her beloved in the little room.
His eyes were wide, the crimson of his irises stark against the pallor of his skin. She could see the shimmering silver caught in the alabaster of his lashes, the gold of the firelight catching in his own tears.
“You’re going to be okay.” He spoke fiercely, each word as strong as a blow as he clenched his jaw. She wouldn’t have heard the quiver in his voice if she didn’t know him so well, didn’t know when he was trying to keep something hidden. “You’re going to get through this, and then we’re going on a long vacation.”
Her heart twisted, clenched in the grip of sorrow. “Astarion. My love, I’m so sorry, I-”
He shook his head, his hand delicately cupping her cheek. His own tears streaked down his cheeks, but he made no move to wipe them away. “Don’t apologise. Just get through this, got it?”
“Okay. Okay, I will.” Her heart squeezed all the tighter, aching, struggling to beat.
She tried to reach up, tried to hold his face, but she’d hardly raised her hand more than an inch before a ripple of pain made her gasp, fingers trembling like the branches of a sapling in a storm.
Astarion chuckled, lowering his head until the tips of her fingers brushed against his cheek. “Is this what you were hoping for, darling?”
“Thank you.” Her bottom lip was quivering again, her heart in her throat. Sadness was a vice that held her tight, nameless, all-consuming, drowning out even the smell of the ointment. She hurt so much, and she had hurt him . In her callousness she had hurt her most beloved and she didn’t know how to fix it, how to make him smile.
With a sigh Astarion lifted his head. His lips twitched, one brow arching. “What’s on your mind?”
“I just… I…” She couldn’t find the words, couldn’t figure out how to say it.
She felt like she was crumpling, formless and weak.
He shushed her gently, brushing the pads of his fingers against her cheeks. “Hush. It’s okay, my love. It’s okay.” Another twitch of his lips. “Wait to thank me until after I’ve changed your bandages.”
Shuddering, she looked away, feeling worse than helpless. “I look horrible, don’t I?”
“No you don’t.” A pause, his eyes searching hers. “It doesn’t look good , but you could never look horrible.”
An entire new wave of misery washed over her, and she wished she could still be unconscious, unaware of this pain and the knowledge that she looked horrible .
“Be honest,” she sniffed. “I look like something from a child’s nightmare.”
“Oh please.” He rolled his eyes. “Now you really are being dramatic.”
She whimpered, scowling as best as she could.
Sighing, Astarion perched on the edge of the bed, toying with the blankets, readjusting them over and over. Even so, his eyes never left hers, earnest and bright. “You’re hurt . You don’t look horrible, you look like someone who’s injured . You look like someone who needs to be taken care of until you’re better.”
Fangs flashing in the light, he gave her a half-moon smile. “And luckily for you , you’ve been blessed with someone as devoted as me , who will be here until you’re all better. Even though you’re being very vain.”
She frowned. “If I could throw a pillow at you, I would.”
“Well thank the gods you don’t have the strength right now.”
He leaned closer, fixing her pillows again. “Beneath all those bandages is the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.” He paused, smirking. “Well, second most beautiful. After me of course.”
“Oh of course .”
“You’re no child’s nightmare, darling.” The corners of his lips hiked higher. “In fact, I’d wager you’re a child’s hero now.”
She snorted. “Oh, I’m so sure.”
He poked her shoulder gently, beaming. “ I am. I bet that kid’s already off telling all her friends.”
“She’s probably forgotten by now.”
“Oh no.” he gave a theatrical shake of his head. “No, certainly not. Rumour has probably spread that there’s a new hero on the sword coast.”
The corners of her lips tipped up, tugged by laughter bubbling in her throat. “Oh please.”
“The blade of frontiers had better move over,” he continued, mischief twinkling in his eyes like entire galaxies of stars. “There’s a new hero protecting Faerûn now.”
She giggled, shaking her head as best as she could. “I’m no hero! Besides, what would I even be called?”
Astarion tapped his cheek, eyes skyward as he hummed thoughtfully. “Now that’s a good question.”
“See? You can’t be a hero without a cool name.”
“How about ‘ protector of the most beautiful vampire spawn?’ Or ‘the prettiest saviour of children from acid?’” He brushed the back of his index finger over her brow, smirking a little too broadly. His fangs flashed before disappearing again as he spoke, mischief in his words. “Or, and I think this one is the best, ‘the fool of faerûn .’”
She gaped at him, mouth falling open.
“You know, since you ran into an acid attack.” He shrugged. “You got the kid out of the way, but you didn’t get yourself out of the way in time.”
She wrinkled her nose as she answered, equal parts annoyed and amused. “You are so lucky, Astarion.”
“To have you by my side?” He stroked her hair, smirking. He knew perfectly well that was not what she was referring to. “I most certainly am lucky, darling.”
“You’re lucky I can barely raise my arms, or else you’d have a pillow in your face.”
“Yes well, you did kind of deserve that.” He tapped the top of her head, his expression growing more serious. “You had me terrified . I thought I’d lost you.”
His words were sobering, and she no longer felt the glimmer of mirth she had before. She sank into the pillows, dropping her gaze. “Astarion, I-”
“It’s already happened.” He cut her off before she could finish her apology, his brows drawing low as he continued. “I want you to focus on healing, on getting better . That’s the only apology I’m willing to accept.”
She swallowed, finding his gaze. “Okay.”
“And just as I said, once you are better, we’re going on vacation.”
It was so mundane, to talk of going on a vacation. A trip meant for relaxation, for having fun, where the highest stakes were finding delicious new food in an unfamiliar place. The sudden segue felt like something out of a dream, surreal when compared to her most recent memory, the wall of blackness in her mind after the rush of burning pain.
A giggle bubbled from her lips, earning a bemused look from Astarion. “What’s so funny? You think me incapable of a vacation?”
“No, that’s not it at all.” In fact it was all too easy to imagine him lounging around all day, the picture of indolence as he languidly sauntered down unfamiliar streets, as he stretched out on some sumptuous bed in a rented room.
“Well don’t keep me in suspense, darling.” He laid on his side, propping his head up in his hand. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
She giggled again, feeling ridiculous. “It’s nothing, really. It just feels strange to be talking of going on vacation, especially when I’m here covered in this gross ointment.”
He clicked his tongue. “That ‘ gross ointment’ is going to help speed along your recovery.” He sniffed, nose wrinkling. “Although it is not exactly a pleasant smell.”
“I want a bath,” she whined. “I want to feel clean and smell pretty.”
“Once you are well enough, my love.” He gave her an indulgent smile. “I will give you the most luxurious bath you can dream of.”
Sighing, she imagined it in her mind. Warm water and flower petals and bath oils perfuming the air, helping her feel alive once again. “Do you think you could do that when we go on vacation, too?”
A chuckle, a darkening of his eyes. “There is plenty I plan to do, once you’re better.”
“Including a bath?” She ignored the somersault of her belly, the heat suddenly blooming at the apex of her thighs. Now really was not the time, not when she could barely stand the blankets that were draped over her.
“ Yes ,” he drawled. “The most splendid of baths every day for you, my dear.”
She relaxed as best she could against the pillows, daydreaming once more of such a thing. Of feeling the warm heat of the water seeping into her bones, of fingers massaging her scalp, trailing lovingly down her back.
“We can do whatever you wish,” he murmured, his gaze softening. “So long as you get better. You have to promise me you’ll get better.”
“I promise. I’ll do my best.”
“Good.” Astarion sighed, toying with her hair. Just the sight of him was stronger than any balm or medicine. The slight curve of his lips as he smiled, relief stitching itself into his expression, more a comfort than any sleeping potion.
He was still speaking, not that she heard even a word of it. Her mind couldn’t keep itself steady, flitting like hummingbird wings as the pain ebbed and flowed through her. Astarion had to pinch her cheek once, twice, before she could focus her thoughts, like trying to coax the ocean through the eye of a needle.
“Have I lost you, darling?” He chuckled, smoothing his hand over the sting where he’d pinched her. “I would have thought you would listen raptly as I spoke.”
She managed a roll of her eyes, knowing he was doing little more than teasing her. Distracting her, perhaps, to take the edge off of the unrelenting burn of her body.
“Forgive me, my love,” she rasped, batting her lashes as swiftly as she could in the moment. “It’s just hard to focus, even on your limitless charm.”
His brows knit together, lips pursing. She caught a flash in his eyes, worry quickly masked before she could begin to pick at it.
“You should rest, darling,” he murmured. “You’ll feel a little better once you wake.”
Astarion made to stand, the bed shifting as his weight vanished, and a ripple of pain went through her side, her chest. Not only her body screaming from the movement, little more than a jostle and yet enough to irritate the weeping wounds beneath her bandages, but her heart screaming too. Pain lancing in her chest, her heartbeat turning to the quiver of a loosed bowstring.
What would she do without him? How could she stand the anger of the poison that had flayed her skin? How could she try to brave the darkness of her unconsciousness? All without him?
A whimper fled from her lips, drawing Astarion’s gaze. The lines in his brow only deepened, and he sank back into the bed. A question hung on his lips, his hands reaching towards her, hovering, hesitancy making his face look wan.
“Don’t go,” she pleaded. “Please.”
The anxiety in his face fell away, like the last of a stone wall crumbling to ruin. Relief, and no small amount of mischief, remained, shining like light through stained glass, refracting rainbows across the ceiling and walls.
“I’m honoured that you want me close, love, but I’m not going far.” There was laughter in his voice, making it lilt like the opening of a song. “I’ll be back in less than a moment.”
With a swiftness that sometimes scared her, Astarion moved across the room, the sound of glass clicking as he sorted through little bottles and vials on their dresser. There were perfumes, lotions, oils, a pretty pink nail polish he’d presented to her only a few days before the attack.
She wanted to ask what he was doing, but in another moment he was back, wiggling a bottle no thicker than her pinky, filled with an oily-looking, iridescent liquid.
“To help you sleep,” he said before she could ask. “It’s supposed to numb some of the pain so you can rest.”
She tried to sit up, only to cry out as a thousand daggers stabbed at her, as her skin drew taut beneath her bandages. She collapsed back, wincing at the red stains blooming on some of her bandages.
“Darling, I fear that is the exact opposite of trying to get better.” Astarion tsked softly, sliding one hand behind her head, flicking the cap of the bottle open with the other.
“I was going to take the medicine.” She had to draw in lungfuls of air to push past the stabbing throb across her body, steadying the sudden surge of nausea in her belly.
He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. The arch of his brow and the quirk of his mouth made it seem like she’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world, and it made her want to pout.
“You’re so impatient,” he chided, bringing the bottle to her lips. “ Obviously I was going to help you with it. The more you move the harder it is for you to heal.”
She could say nothing as she drank the potion, fighting not to gag as the oily substance slid down her throat. It tasted bitter, and it coated the inside of her mouth like grease.
Setting the empty bottle to the side, Astarion grinned. “See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He patted her head, not yet done teasing her. “Imagine how much easier it would have been if you’d just waited for me the first time.”
“Are you saying you’ll take care of me? You’re going to nurse me back to health?”
He chuckled. “Of course , darling. I’m terribly keen to play as your doctor.”
“Oh Astarion, don’t tease me so much,” she whined. “I can hardly think of a clever response right now.”
“I don’t mind.” He tapped the tip of her nose, unscathed from the attack. “That pretty blush of yours is all I need.”
“ Astarion .”
He lifted his hands quickly, palms out in surrender. “Alright, alright, that’s enough for now. I’ll leave you to your rest.”
Panic seized her and she gasped. “My love, wait. Wait!”
She reached her arms out as far as she could, making a grabbing motion with her hands. Astarion’s brows rose, the corner of his lips quirking up. “Oh? And what’s this?”
Whining, she stretched her arms out a little further. “I want you.”
“So needy.” His tone was chiding, but his smile only grew. “Do you need me to continue comforting you, darling?”
“Astarion, please .” She couldn’t spar with him now, and so she was at the mercy of his teasing. She pushed out her bottom lip, pouting as best she could, giving him her biggest doe eyes. “I need you.”
“And how do you need me?”
If she could have ground her teeth she would have. But as it stood she could not, so she settled for a wrinkle of her nose, her cheeks burning from the heat he’d coaxed into them. He was smiling far too broadly, his eyes full of mirth.
With a sigh she said, “I need you to stay with me. I need you to hold me, my beloved. Please.”
“Oh my.” She could see the faintest touch of colour in his cheeks, like the first hint of the blushing dawn in the dove-grey of the morning sky. “Well how could I ever say no to such a request?”
Happiness softened the edges of her ire as Astarion tugged at the blankets, carefully slipping into the bed beside her. She sank to the side, his body beckoning her close, wincing only barely as he pressed against her side. He draped an arm loosely over her stomach, no heavier than another blanket, and yet she felt safer because of it, warmer than any blanket could make her feel.
“How is this?” He murmured softly against her ear, his breath tangling in her unbound hair. “Better?”
“This is very nice,” she said, just as quietly. “Thank you, my love.”
“Do you think you can sleep?” His voice wobbled, revealing the fear that had been hiding beneath his joking tone. “It will help with your healing.”
“But I only just got comfy,” she whined, not caring how pitiful she sounded.
A snort, cool fingers brushing back her hair. His breath gathered against her skin as he lowered his head, sighing. “That is so you can sleep , darling.”
“I don’t know if I can sleep.”
“If I’m distracting you, it may be better if I go-”
“ No!” It would have been a shriek if she’d been able to shriek right now. As it was it sounded like a garbled rasp, and Astarion had to press his face to her neck to muffle his laughter.
“Don’t go. Please love, I want you to stay.” She didn’t feel right without him close, felt like she was on the verge of dying. She wanted to cling to him, to hold fast, finding comfort in the acid of his comments and the bergamot clinging to his skin.
“I’ll stay.” He laid a gentle kiss to her neck, a stark difference to the teasing laughter from only seconds ago. “See? I have no plan to move.”
“Really?”
“Why would I, when such a beautiful, needy little thing is in my arms.”
She turned her head away so he could not see the crimson staining her cheeks. She had no response, no clever rejoinder. She was terribly needy for his closeness, but he didn’t have to say it like that.
“You really must rest, though,” he continued, pressing another kiss to her throat. “How else will you get better so we can take a vacation?”
“You seem very set on the idea of this vacation,” she mused. Already she could feel the medicine working, the pain beginning to ebb, dulling breath by breath. “What do you even want to do?”
“What don’t I want to do, darling?” He sighed, stroking her hair. “I want to lounge and sleep in late. And perhaps we can visit a spa; we both need it after this.”
“A spa sounds nice.” She imagined it, sleeping the morning away, skilled hands massaging the knots from her back and arms, floral-scented serums and creams and oils pressed to her face, bringing her skin to life.
“And shopping ,” he continued, just as lost in his daydreams as she. “ So much shopping. We must refresh our wardrobes, darling. It’s all very…” She could picture the wrinkle of his nose without even looking at him. “ Last season. We must be ahead of all the rest.”
“I’ll put my trust in you, then,” she murmured. “I’m sure you know what is best.”
She wouldn’t mind some new gowns, if she were honest. She would need something to make her feel pretty again after she was healed.
Astarion hummed, combing fingers through her hair. “Have you fallen asleep already?”
“No,” she answered, not feeling tired in the least. Now that the pain was fading she felt wide awake, energized.
“Well you should,” he admonished. “It will certainly put me at ease knowing you’re resting.”
“But I’m not tired , my love.”
He sighed, undoubtedly rolling his eyes. “What can I do to help?”
She hummed, wracking her mind for something that could help, that would lull her into the gentle darkness of unconsciousness.
Before she had met him, she would sometimes fall asleep to the faint sounds of music beyond her windows, or she would hum her favourite melodies until she could not hum them any longer.
“Could you…” She licked her lips, twisting as far away from his gaze as she could as a new wave of heat washed over her. “Could you sing for me?”
The silence that fell from her question stretched long, and she feared he would laugh, or tell her that no he could not. But then, soft as a caress, Astarion asked “you wish for me to sing?”
She swallowed, her flushing cheeks be damned. She wanted to meet his gaze as she again made her shameless request, a small comfort that had helped her in the years before she’d met him.
“Will you please sing for me?” He was close enough now for her to take his free hand, even as tremors still quivered through hers. “Please, my love? It really would help me sleep.”
For a moment he searched her gaze, his expression serious. Soft light gilded his features, twinning in the strands of his hair, painting the lines of his jaw, the bridge of his nose. His eyes seemed to glow, and she had the strangest feeling that she was being observed by a deity, a powerful, celestial being not of this world.
Her heart ached, and she held his hand tighter, reminding herself that he was not an ethereal being of light and dreams. He was real, he was here with her, he was not going anywhere.
Astarion’s eyes flicked down, to their intertwined hands, seeming to come to some sort of resolution.
“You are so terribly lucky I find you so wonderful,” he sighed, lashes fanning over his cheeks as he closed his eyes. “I wouldn’t sing for just anyone , you know.”
She gingerly brought his hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I think I would hate it if you did. I want you to sing for only me.”
His eyes opened, his expression tender despite how he had bemoaned such a task. “Any requests, my dear?”
“A lullaby, please.” She held fast to his hand, clutching it as surely as a child clutched a beloved doll. “Any lullaby, whatever your favourites are.”
He mulled it over, stroking her hair absently. “Alright, I have a few in mind.”
His voice quivered at first, uncertainty staining his voice. The words tremulous, quiet, yet as he continued, seeming to realize this was not an elaborate ruse to tease him, he grew louder, more confident. The faintest touch of colour stained his cheeks, but it could have been the burning red of the sky at sunset for how it ignited warmth in her own heart.
At first she felt nothing, energy still buzzing like static along her nerves and sizzling in her veins. But the wispy tendrils of fatigue slowly crept over her, Astarion’s words coming in and out of focus, blurring together. She was certain he was switching to Elven every now and again, the songs he was singing old, excavated from a corner of his memory draped in cobwebs and dust.
She yawned, her eyelids growing heavy. It became harder to keep them open, and eventually she just gave in, sighing in response to Astarion’s teasing laughter as his fingertips skipped across her brow.
“Are you asleep yet?”
“Not yet,” she grumbled, scrunching her nose.
“I guess I have no choice, but to keep going.”
She hummed in approval, earning another quiet huff of laughter before he continued, beginning a new song she did not recognize.
She wouldn’t have said he was the very best, and although she didn’t recognize every song he chose, she could tell some of it was off-key, the notes too sharp or flat. But she didn’t care, finding comfort in the off-tune lilt of his voice. It was a melody just for her, carrying her like white-capped waves towards sleep.
Her fingers found their way to his shirt, twisting into the cream coloured fabric, snagging on the ties that held it closed. She could not move enough to tuck herself beneath his chin the way she liked best, but she could hold onto him like this at least. She could anchor herself, no longer lost to the pain of her wounds.
Astarion’s voice blurred, words melting into each other until she could not recognize a single one, her mind muddled as a turbid river. All her thoughts turned to nonsense, but for one, shining bright as a star, holding fast in the cloudiness of her mind.
That she would get better. That she had to get better. She couldn’t let him sing her lullabies for nothing. She had to make up for the worry she was causing him.
She might have said the thoughts aloud, she really wasn’t sure. Her body was growing fuzzy, the world around her melting in and out of focus.
What she was sure of was that Astarion paused for the briefest of moments, brought his lips to her brow. He murmured against her skin, that he was holding her to that promise. That he would need her to get better so she could help him come up with a name for her new heroic persona while on their languid holiday.
She wanted to promise that she would, if only because she loved him so much she couldn’t bear upsetting him. But Astarion started singing again, and his voice suddenly sounded very, very far away, like an echo behind glass.
And then she was gone, lost to sleep, one step closer to healing, just as she had promised.