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fates-calling · 3 months

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Care

CW: Almost-Character Death | Violence | Refrenced Astarion Trauma

Featuring: Soren (OC) & Astarion & Gale Relationship: Implied Tav/Asatrion/Gale (and vice versa)

Word Count: 2,940 Other Tags: Physcial Hurt/Comfort | Minor Whump | Astarion Is Bad At Feelings | Mild Angst | Fluff | Jealous Astarion (but of both Gale & Tav because he wants in on it) | Gale Is Crushing Like A Dweeb | Protective Tav Synopsis: During the fight with the duergar on the beach, Astarion nearly dies: but Gale and Soren come to his rescue. And he simply can't wrap his head around why. Ao3 Link!

Another arrow sliced through his torso like butter, it seemed that Astarion had underestimated the duergar’s aim. It didn't help that they were taking on what, ten of them? The entire beach has become a battlefield, and it was already coated with bodies. He can't believe he was doing this for some strange mushroom creatures. Why did he let himself be dragged along on some heroic side quest again? It wasn't his style at all. This time it seemed he was going to pay the price for it. He grits his teeth and clutches at his side, blood is pouring from the wound rapidly. Plenty of arrows had grazed him during the fight but this one stuck. The world blurred.

No! Was his first thought as he felt himself drop to his knees, desperately clinging to his bow. Astarion attempts to stand, unaware of how much blood is coming out of him, yet, it is such a familiar sensation. To be bleeding out. He had felt this two hundred years ago as Cazador had sunk his fangs into his throat. This time, however, there was no sweeping numbness as he was already dead. Instead there was nothing but spikes of pain pacing back and forth in his nerves.

Then he heard it, “Astarion! Shit!”

It was Soren, screaming out his name from a few meters away. The vampire fell to the ground the dark-sunless sky of the Underdark staring down at him. He can see pretty well still as the edges of his vision flicker with black spots. He feels blood leak from his mouth, and his instinct is to wipe it away. Have to look perfect. He can't move though - too weak. He watches the bard fire off three arrows out of his crossbow, each one striking at the dwarves with a vengeance. A strange shock rolls through the rouge. It is vengeance. There is a rage etched into the elf’s face that startles him.

He had only seen it a few times before. It's practically a snarl, as the bard's long ears pin down and he bares his teeth. His eyes aglow with his magic as he strikes his lute with ferocity. Astarion watches as duergar goes flying away from him as sound crashes into them shattering bones. Then, the bard is rushing towards him. Turning his back to the enemy, and the vampire wants to hiss out about him being an idiot.

But then, he realizes something.

Soren came to his aid. But why? He has to wonder. This entire journey so far he has been nothing but, well, an asshole. His attempts to seduce the man before him - to manipulate him with sex and fake admiration have all failed. Soren would flirt back and play along, but, never was Astarion able to get any further than banter. The bard was infatuated with Gale. He had spent the night with him after they saved the grove, and honestly: Astarion would be lying if he said it hadn't been driving him mad.

What did Gale offer that he couldn't? Wasn't he gorgeous? Wasn't he sexy? Everything you could want for a roll in the hay! It had dawned on him recently, that, maybe Soren wanted something deeper. That's why he was drawn to the helpless romantic wizard. But that meant he didn't have control of the elf. Couldn't bend him to his will. Sure! The man didn't stake him for being a vampire. He allows him to feed on him whenever he needs or even wishes. But that's because he is useful in a fight. He knows that.

So, why, is he feeling a health potion being pressed to his lips. Why is a hand carding through his hair, and forcing him to swallow it? He had just proven that he wasn't good enough for the battles ahead. That he wasn't ready for them. Soren was risking himself!

“Ignis!” Astarion heard Gale's voice shout out, and he saw a dwarf that was trying to get to them erupt into flames. Karlach is somewhere down below them on the beach, cutting through the enemies with a vicious roar. The wizard was now running over to his side. Warmth spreads through his body from the potion.

The vampire whelps as Soren rips the arrow from his body, “Fuck!”

Soren winces, “Sorry!”

Another health potion is forced onto him, he thinks this time, from Gale. The world comes back into full view. His body aches though, and Astarion feels as if he was hit by a carriage. Might as well have been. The pair of men are kneeling in front of him, both of them wearing an almost comically similar expression. Worry. Concern. Relief. Astarion stares at them for a moment, processing. Soren helping he understands, a bit. The bard is making amends for something he has done, that the vampire was sure of: for what he can't tell you. But his whole hero thing is about redemption for him. Reclaiming old childhood dreams.

But Gale? Astarion has been nothing but, honestly, an asshole to him. The wizard has certainly taken it in full stride, however. Tossing back insults and banter. Yet, despite that the human always tries and talk to him. Especially at camp, lord, Gale loves to talk. Yet. It's nice to listen to him. Astarion feels like he can also, just, talk when the wizard gets into one of his rambling moods. They have had strangely long conversations as of late. When Soren is away the wizard for some reason drifts to him and his tent to seek company. Astarion has been trying his damndest not to let his puppy-dog eyes and wonderful smile melt him. But. It's been working.

Just like Soren's gorgeous wavy hair and the way he smirks before telling a terrible joke. Or the way his sword is soaked with blood at his hip right now. The blood he shed for Astarion. The vampire begins to sit up, feeling pinned by the two men before him. The strange warmth blossoming inside of his chest made him reel. It's a foreign sensation. Not like the heated flames of lust he is used to. The fires of passion. No. It's soft and soothing. He hates it. He doesn't want to think about what it means.

“Astarion take it easy!” Gale says unhelpfully, as he reaches for the vampire who nearly falls trying to stand. Astarion flinches as he feels the warmth of the human's hand on his arm. It takes everything in him not to reel away. This doesn't make sense. Gale should hate him. Soren shouldn't care for him. He hasn't given nor managed to give either of them anything. No sex. No kind words. No grand acts of heroism. Not even stupid silly gifts. He has seen Soren present magical scrolls to Gale like he was bringing home gold.

“C’mon sit down, man. You just almost died.” Soren grabs the vampire by the shoulder softly, his grip is loose. It grounds him, and slowly, he allows the bard to lead him to the wooden floorboards beneath them. One yellow eye and the other a brilliant icy-blue stare at him searching his face and body. Brows are furrowed and the elf curses underneath his breath. “Fuck! I should've not let any of them see you!”

Astarion is puzzled at the sound of guilt in his voice. He doesn't let it show, he waves a hand through the air allowing his body to stop shaking. Focusing on doing - something. Anything to ignore this buzzing inside of his chest. The lump in his throat. “Darling, I'm fine.”

“You were not though,” Gale pipes up and the vampire wonders not for the first time, if the man ever has a filter. “That's the problem. We had agreed to cover you and we failed -”

Soren cuts the wizard off, his intense gaze flicking to the human. Astarion is grateful for it. He felt trapped beneath it. Caught in the waves of color as if they were raging oceans. “No, I failed. I should have fucking killed the bastards faster. If I - if we lost you Astarion…”

His voice trails off, and his gaze looks off into the distance for a moment. The vampire feels that warmth again. Stronger than before. Gale has a similar look of devastation that is sweeping in. The pair are so oddly in sync it is almost comical. They must have been spending a lot of time together. Why does that make his stomach twist into knots? Not quite in a jealous way. More like - loneliness. Being left out way. It makes him want to puke.

“Let's not think about that.” Gale breaks the heavy silence, “He's alive, that's what matters. We got to him in time.”

A strange anger enters his voice, and he points at Astarion, “If you ever scare me like that again, I will make your hair purple!”

“What?” the rouge manages eloquently, confusion flooding his features. Soren laughs as Gale flushes a bit realizing that his threat was well, odd. The wizard shoves at him, and it seems to only make Soren giggle more. The world seems to freeze for a split second, as Astarion stares at the pair. A perfect image, as they are bathed in the soft glows of the mushrooms and crystals around them.

They look so happy. That's when the vampire recognizes the blood on them, not from the enemy. Both of them seemed to have taken some heavy blows themselves from the battle. Gale has a large slash across his arm, it having torn his sleeve right off. Soren has about a dozen cuts and scraps from arrows plinking off his armor. Barely missing. Not to mention, the gash across his leg from where a dwarf stabbed him. They were both mostly long-ranged fighters like Astarion, so how -

It dawned on him.

It was when they ran over to him. When they turned their backs to the enemy.

“You fucking idiots.” He hisses out and he grabs healing potions from his pack, tossing them to the men. Gale doesn't catch him and Soren has to save it from falling to the ground. “You two took hits running over here to save me! You could have gotten yourselves killed and that would be, well, bad!”

Soren blinks, and it seems he just realizes he is injured. None of them have even noticed the battle is over, as the beach has gone silent. Karlach had cut through the last of them. “It was worth it to make sure you were okay.”

The words cut into Astarion. Sharp. Strange. Foreign. He watched as the bard downed the potion, wounds closing and bruises fading. Gale followed his lead, though, he fumbled shakily with the cork on it. He seemed worse for wear than the bard beside him, exhausted. He had used a lot of mana during the battle.

“Losing a little bit of blood is nothing compared to your potential death.” Gale comments, as if it is a matter of fact. That Astarion dying was worth the pain. Was worth their own lives, potentially.

The vampire shakes his head, and he looks away swallowing hard. “Whatever. Never pull a stunt like that again for me, got it?” The unsaid words rang in his head. You two are worth more than I could ever be.

“Can't make any promises.” Soren quips, and he grins at the man. “Give it up, Astarion. We care about you, and you can't stop us.”

“Why?” It falls out from his lips in a whisper, before he can stop it. Astarion regrets it the moment the words leave his mouth. He doesn't look at either man, as silence falls between them. He wishes he could run, but, his legs still feel so weak. He is pathetic. Can't even escape his problems properly. If he had his way with Soren - ugh! None of this would be happening. Then he wouldn't be questioning everything the man did for him, because he knows what he wanted from him. But, he doesn't - and Gale? Even bigger of a mystery.

Gale speaks first, clearing his throat. The sound has the vampire looking up at him. “I for one, believe it to be rude to let your comrades lay on the ground and bleed out. Also! I would greatly miss our late-night readings! I have never met someone with the same taste as me before in literature, and passion. Plus, when I can't sleep because of this retched orb-” he taps his chest. “You -”

There is a break in his words, a flood of emotion entering the wizard's eyes. He glances away from Astarion and the rouge's thoughts reel. “You keep me company, and I know you don't like me much. It's nice though. To just talk to you and it would be a shame if I lost that. You're also funny - and - well, I think Soren it's your turn to explain!”

Soren shakes his head a bit, as Gale cuts himself off from his rambling, and there is a pink color in his face. The bard looks at him, his gaze is just as intense as before.

“I care for you, simple as that. If you need reasons why, well,” he clears his throat, and he counts off on his fingers as he speaks. “You're funny, as Gale stated. You have wonderful fashion taste and keep this party well dressed. You have brilliant taste in wine and books, oh! And you are just the niftiest little lockpick! Also, you're endearing. I like your laugh, too. And -” his eyes shine. “You'd do the same for me. I know it.”

Astarion scowls, his skin is crawling. “Do you, now?”

“I do.” It was said with such trust, and assurance that the vampire knew he meant it. He thinks about how many nights the bard has let him feed upon him. Allowing himself to be held in the predator's claws and not once, has he been afraid. Even that first time: Soren hadn't shown a hint of fear. Astarion groans.

“I think this just proves to me you two are insane.” He states simply and stands up, dusting himself off. Gale follows his movements and it looks like he wants to say something, but he stops. He doesn't want to push. It feels like they already stepped on a minefield. Maybe tonight, at camp when the weariness of the battle has faded. He already knows Soren will question Astarion about this. About his need to prove that their care is fake. He can see it in his features.

Determined and stubborn as always.

Astarion crosses his arms over his chest, “That was quite enough mushy talk for me. Shall we start looting bodies?”

Soren grins wickedly, “Already on it!”

The bard runs like a giddy child over to the nearest corpse and begins to rummage through their pockets.

“Gale! This one has a scroll of Thunderwave!” He declares and tosses it to the wizard who lights up as if they don't have five of them already. Astarion stares at them for too long, just watching as they talk and loot. Tossing each other items. A perfect picture. He feels as if his heart flutters, but it's impossible. He turns away only to be hit in the back of the head with something metal.

“Hey!” He shouts and spins around, Gale is staring at him sheepishly.

“Sorry! I thought you'd catch it! It's for you.” the rouge shakes his head before he plucks the ring that was thrown at him off the ground. He pauses. There is nothing magical about it from what he can see, it's just a simple golden band with red gemstones all around. He raised an eyebrow.

“Gale, this is useless.”

The wizard shrugs, “It matches your eyes. I thought you'd appreciate it-”

“Catch!” Soren called out and Astarion had no time to react before a pouch was thrown at his face, the bard was grinning with mischief as it hit him square in the nose. The vampire shakes his head.

“You did that on purpose!” He half-whines out, but he is beginning to feel lighter. Catching onto the playfulness in the bard's gaze.

Soren's voice is sing-song, “You can't prove it. Also! Maybe just don't be so slow.”

Astarion grins wickedly, thinking that he shall get sweet revenge. He walks up to a dwarf whose body is charred, he snags gold coins off of them. Perfect. With precision, he throws each one of them at Soren, who catches them all without looking. The vampire gaped.

The bard merely smirks at him, “You're gonna have to try harder than that!”

“Why you little…”

“I'm not little anywhere, sweetheart.” The bard winks. Astarion and Gale flush at the sudden comment. The rouge can shake it off easily and he ignores the flutter inside of his chest. Gale on the other hand seems to be steaming a bit, too caught up in the imagery his mind conjured up.

Then he gets hit in the face with a coin. “Ow! Soren, you asshole!”

The bard is cackling now before he dips into the shadows vanishing from sight. Astarion cracks his neck, and he snatches the coin that fell in front of Gale.

“Oh, it's a war now.” He flips the coin. “What do you say, wizard? Wanna help me get revenge?”

Gale pauses and he nods, taking a coin offered to him by the vampire. A smile spreads across his features, his eyes lighting up with an oddly, malicious look. Astarion can't help but, appreciate it.

“Gladly.”

Astarion could get used to this.

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