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“He belongs to no one.”
Five words that have played in Astarion’s head ever since Maeve said them. Even as they walked up and down the endless labyrinth that was Moonrise Towers, and even when they finally got to truly look at the Absolute for what it was (a gigantic, disgusting brain that could have only been imagined by the vilest of people), those words still echo in his mind as they sit in the silence of camp.
They’ve defeated Thorm, and only two more enemies remain; if they can get to them before the damned parasite in each of their heads destroys them first. Now, after the longest days of some of their lives (for Astarion, it was a mere blink), they are finally back on the surface. Unfortunately, when they arrived an hour ago, it was night; meaning they are stuck in darkness once again and have to remain patient until they see the light.
This upsets Astarion the most, who was just becoming reacquainted with the sun, and to be deprived of it for weeks on end? Oh, it was all too much. So, here he sits, in his tent, dwelling on the words his companion had told the Drow woman.
Araj had asked Maeve first for her own blood, and then for Astarion to bite her. She hadn’t even questioned him properly, only made an insinuation before asking his companion if he’d belonged to her. Then…Maeve gave her answer.
She said them so…strangely. There was bite in her tone, but she smiled. It was as if she was still determining whether to be civil or stern the moment the words left her lips. If anything, it only unnerved Araj even more; and lightened Astarion’s heart.
He nearly asked her to say them again. Not because he liked how she sounded, but because the words truly did not register to him. Even still, while he knows that their…mutual, experimental predicament (is that what they’re calling ‘relationships’ nowadays?) doesn’t have a label, he didn’t expect her to stand up for him like she did. A simple ‘No’ would’ve been enough, but she did more than he believes she was even aware of.
So…how to talk to her about it?
Taking a deep breath, he starts. “‘I need to talk to you…”
“So far so good.” He mockingly accomplishes himself. Astarion already figured that the jests and charms will not work on her now; that, and it’d be odd to bring up such an important thing in that way.
At least, for her sake.
“‘I just…wanted to thank you for what you said while I was in front of that vile Drow.’” He speaks his mind to the fabric of his tent wall. “‘I…I have spent two-hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back to my master. What I wanted, how I felt about what I was doing, it never mattered. You could have asked me to do the same, to throw myself at her, what I wanted be damned…but you didn’t; and I’m grateful.’”
He sits with it as he always does after practicing what to say, whether it be a witty one-line like usual, or a proper apology (Something he’s only done twice now in his life). When he no longer feels a nagging sensation in his mind, as if he can say possibly anything better, he nods to himself, and stands. Astarion, out of habit, runs the words a few more times as he exits his tent…
And sees her.
She stands just a few feet away from him, looking away when she saw his gaze as he walked out. Just as she looks away, she draws her eyes back to him.
“Sorry.” She nods.
“No, you…why are you apologizing?”
“I…” She chuckles to herself. “I don’t know. I was debating on talking to you, but I understand if you want to be alone. I tried speaking with Shadowheart but…I feel everything is overwhelming her, she didn’t even say a word to me.”
He tilts his head. “Do you want to be alone?”
“Do you?”
“I asked you already.”
“I’m asking you now.” She still smiles.
Astarion can’t help but mirror her expression, shaking his head. “You’re intolerable.”
“Then why are you still talking to me?” Maeve teases.
Just like that, his grin falls away, and he takes a deep breath. “Do you have a moment? It’s…it’s important.”
When she sees his mood shift, so does hers. “Are you alright?”
“Oh yes, I’m fine I just feel…” He speaks so quickly, the confession he practiced his mind, and only one word replaced it. “Awful.”
Her brows furrow into a mix of confusion and sympathy. Astarion sighs.
“Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan. Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me!” He hates himself for laughing nervously. “It was easy, instinctive. Habits from two-hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it; and all I had to do was…not fall for you….Which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart.”
The woman’s arms have crossed over her chest at this point, almost as if it is the only way to hold herself upright. He still has more to say.
“You-you’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”
Even after that, she still doesn’t speak. He looks deeper into her eyes (her beautiful, beautiful eyes), seeing both contemplation and fear; a fear of being lied to, being unwanted, a fear that Astarion will forever shame himself for giving to her.
“So…did any of the time we spent together mean anything?” She asks so quietly, swallowing. “Whatever happened in my tent a few days ago? Those stupid dreams?” The woman can’t help but laugh, yet there is no humor. “Talking about our childhoods by the river almost a lifetime ago, did that mean anything to you?”
“Of course, it did! That’s part of the problem.” Her face drops, and so does his coolness. “No, no, not problem! I…Damnit…” Taking a deep breath, the part of him he always loathed, those vulnerable confessions he wanted to avoid…they’re all out to get him now.
“Being close to someone, any kind of intimacy, was something I performed to lure people back for him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone, in a matter of sex, still feels…tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing.” His breath trembles, and his words slow. “I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to. I’m…you don’t know how much it meant when you said you didn’t want to sleep with me. It appalled me at first; hardly anyone ever said no, but no one ever said ‘no’ and still wanted to know me. I thought I’d been doing something wrong, and that is why I was hostile towards you even when being kind, because I always assumed you wanted something else. And I…I’m sorry that I made you feel the same.”
Maeve hears nothing but his candidness from every single word. Her posture relaxes and lowers nearly all of her guard.
“I shouldn’t have judged you so harshly.”
He hums, grinning a little. “It’s less than I deserve.”
“Not if you know that you deserve it.” She shrugs. “If you admitted you did something undeniably wrong, and you want to be better, then that’s almost the end of it. But that’s up to you…what do you want?”
His eyes drop, and his mouth moves with his thoughts. “I don’t know. It’s been so long since I’ve had to decide what I wanted but…I needed to tell you that I’d like to try. Try what you wanted a week ago, but to be honest, even when it would hurt you, and to admit how I had hurt you. I couldn’t just sweep it under the rug and pretend my intentions came from a pure and noble heart from the start.”
She nods. “Okay.”
Astarion stares. “Okay? As in…it’s alright to be together?”
“Yes.” The woman smiles brightly. “To be together together the same way that schoolchildren are when confessing their feelings for the first time.”
“You monster,” He grins. “I’m being serious.”
“As am I. I like like you, Astarion; and I’m at peace knowing you do too.”
He’s wondered before if it’s possible that her smile will burn him, but her words are a much greater threat. Still, where before, it scorched him with shame of how he’d inevitably hurt her worse than he’s already done; but now…he feels warm.
It almost feels like a secret when he says it; how he has an excited smile and whispers. “Honestly, I have no idea what we’re doing. Or what comes next.”
He reaches out his hand to her, and it almost feels like he’s outside of his own body; but he isn’t. No, he does it like it’s second nature, and no part of him wants to pull it away. Especially when she smiles as shy as ever, and tenderly laces her fingers with his.
“Neither do I.”
Astarion places his hand over hers. “Still, I know though that this…this is nice.”
They could stare at each other until the sun comes up if they so please, just memorizing every time their pupils grow at the sight of each other. Still, the longer Astarion looks at her, the easier it is for him to tell that she is thinking about something.
“What’s troubling you?” He questions, not changing anything about the way he holds her gaze and her hand.
She takes a deep breath. “Could I try something? And if you don’t want it, please tell me.”
A smile stretches itself upon his lips, and he says with playful knowingness. “Go on.”
For her own effect, he shuts his eyes, awaiting her lips for a second time. She giggles girlishly.
“You don’t have to close your eyes.”
“But I want to.”
She huffs. “I think you’ll be disappointed.”
“Nonsense.” He means it, and she knows it.
After a moment’s more of no speaking, he feels her arms drape over his shoulders, and hugs him. Astarion’s eyes shoot open at the contact, and his heart only hammers more when he realizes she hasn’t kissed him.
It’s…foreign to have one’s body wrapped around yours when it won’t lead to anything more than just an embrace.
Yet, it’s nice. He hates using that word a lot; she deserves exquisite, euphoric, mystifying. But, perhaps the simplicity of ‘nice’ is more than enough. Enough where neither have to think critically of using fancy words, and just having it be natural.
He’s nearly embarrassed it takes this long for him to get over his astonishment, to finally wrap his arms around her waist, and hold her like she is cradling him. He closes his eyes again, relishing the feel of her arms.
Time stands still. It’s almost as if a game of who will pull away first is being played; and they both know they’re competitive, it seems. And as time is still at a halt, they grow closer little by little. She clings to him until her chest is with his, and he brings one hand up her back, between her shoulder blades, and keeps the other one firmly wrapped around her waist yet attempts to bring her closer.
His breath hitches when she trails her hand up to the nape of his neck, the tips of her fingers beginning to curl into his hair. Immediately, she retracts her hands and settles them back to where they were.
“I’m sorry.” She says like a child.
“It’s alright,” Astarion purrs lightly, opening his eyes. “just wasn’t expecting it.”
They’re still so close to one another, but her face is turned away. He could do it; gently grab her chin and kiss her until her lips turn blue. Fall back into old customs and frighten the both of them because it is much too fast. But he can’t; he won’t rush this.
“I mean it when I say I don’t know how to do this either.” She says in his ear. “I’ve had small things with people, but…nothing like this; nothing even relatively close for it being real.”
He could ask her what she meant by ‘things’, how many people she had these ‘things’ with; hells, when she says ‘real’ it could mean anything from ‘things’ with gods, goddesses, and devils (much like their noble companions) to silly little crushes.
But he won’t ask her these things; not tonight, and maybe not any other night. Astarion simply decides to say.
“Where’s the fun in flying blind together if one of us knows where we’re going?”
That is what makes her head turn, and he gets to see her smiling face. “Normal people say something along the lines of: ‘We’ll figure it out together.’”
“Oh, and we’ll do that too.” He jests. “Just wanted to see if my charms would fail now that we both know this is real.”
Maeve shakes her head, being the first to pull away from him. “I could never get tired of them as long as they’re good.”
He gasps. “My darling, when have they never?!”
“Any time after that day by the river when you would make references to my mouth.” Astarion remains silent, almost as if he’d forgotten all of that. She continues. “It was entertaining at first, but then you were lazy.”
Sighing, he admits. “Alright, yes, I was becoming predictable.”
The woman grins teasingly, but while she still smiles, it’s more sincere. She grabs his hand and squeezes it lightly. “Thank you though; for being honest with me.”
He runs his finger over her knuckles, savoring her touch.
“Of course.”