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Astarion knows it’s the exact wrong thing to say the second he begins speaking. But he’s started and he can’t stop the words spewing from his mouth.
He knows why he’s saying it. He’s in fucking shock. As if finding out your lover was Bhaalspawn wasn’t enough, they’ve just learned it was her who got them all into this mess in the first place.
Tav was the creator of the Absolute. It was her idea. Their beloved leader had been working with Gortash and Ketheric for years before Orin dethroned her as Bhaal’s chosen. Tav’ira is the reason all of them had been kidnapped and implanted with these worms. Of course he’s lost all sense and started lashing out.
“So… It was you who got us into this mess. All along we were traveling with the creator of the Absolute!” For just a handful of seconds he feels utterly betrayed. Traveling with the creator of the mess they’ve been trying to solve for fucking months now and they had no gods damned clue. But even as he’s started growling at her, he realizes he doesn’t want to do this. Realizes truly who he’s jabbing his claw at. That this is just as much new information to her as it is to him. He sees her very visibly flinch. Sees her already begin recoiling further into herself.
He has to fix it. So he clicks his tongue and keeps going. Like a damned fool.
“I won’t lie. I am a little impressed, darling.” He doesn’t think she’s breathing. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be stuck in Cazador’s kennels. So… eh-uh.. Thank you for being that evil bastard.”
It was supposed to be an attempt at humour. To lighten up his hastily shouted accusation.
Instead he watched her eyes shutter. Saw in the flames of her white eyes how she… left. Saw what made her her flicker out. Shit shit shit. He- he didn’t mean to do that to her. He didn’t think. He hasn’t been thinking this entire time apparently.
Astarion knows how much she’s been struggling. He knows how terrified she is at every waking moment that she’ll lose herself to the thing within her. How much she loathes the unknown person she was before. Loathes herself. Blames herself for feelings and Urges she quite literally cannot control. Urges they’ve learned she was born into and had no choice in whatsoever.
It doesn’t matter if she knows it was essentially her plan that freed him from Cazador. He knows how heavily what he says and thinks about her impacts Tav - how she relies on him and trusts him still somehow to not hurt her and just understand her . And he’s gone and fucked it up. Again. He’s meant to be the one fucking person in their ragtag group who promised her he understood and would never hold this against her. He was adamant that there was good within her. It’s what made him begin truly wanting something real with her - seeing her choose over and over the harder path to do and be good despite how much her own body fought against her. How, no matter how scared she was, she persevered. And he’d just gone and called her an evil bastard, right to her face. Could he have shoved his foot any further down his own throat?
He starts to panic as she just stands there. She doesn’t yell. She doesn’t speak. He’s still not certain she’s even breathing right now. There’s nothing behind her eyes. The mere seconds they stand there in silence feel like an eternity.
Astarion remembers the last time he’d fumbled his words and hurt her like this. She’d vanished for days in the Shadow Cursed Lands. He’d gone near out of his mind with worry looking for her; having just come to the realization he cared about someone for the first time in living memory and then she had just up and disappeared. Everyone in camp, though weary of her recent acting up Urges once again, almost turned against him entirely for hurting her this badly. Three entire days she’d been gone. He found her near catatonic covered in her own blood - fresh and dried - curled up against a stone sarcophagus in some long forgotten crypt. Her claws were dug deep into her own flesh. Deep gouges in the exact size of her own claws decorated her arms, legs, ribs, back, shoulders; any part of herself she could reach. It was horrifying and he never wanted anything like that to happen to her ever again.
He didn’t truly hold this against her. She’s not whoever she was before. She has no memory - no real comprehension of the actions Bhaal’s chosen had taken before she had been near-murdered and tortured so severely she forgot everything and literally became a new person. His Tav - his Vira - wasn’t to blame.
He took a step towards her, his hand reaching out to try and hold her own. And she flinched again. Oh how that hurt. She was terrified of what he might do. What else he might say.
“Tav. Vira darling, I-” He starts. She’s not entirely back behind her eyes, but she gasps once and tries to steady her breathing.
“It’s fine. Let’s just go. We’re done here.” Her voice is flat and shaky. She was already speeding towards the stairwell before she finished speaking. Tail uncharacteristically rigid and fighting not to curl around her own leg in her distress.
“Fuck. Tav, wait. Tav!” He was near shouting as he tried to chase after her. But she was much smaller than him and wove through the crowd of nobles with an ease not available to him and his attention-grabbing shouts of desperation. By the time he was able to catch up to her downstairs in the armoury, she was fast approaching the waypoint. She touched the sigil and was gone before he could reach her.
Please, please just be heading back to camp. He’s trying not to imagine her lost somewhere in the city in a repeat scenario of the crypt. Except now he has other horrors to imagine. Like the scent of her blood attracting one of his fucking siblings. Shit.
He was about to follow immediately after her when he heard a scoff from behind. And he paused for a moment and turned to look. Minthara had easily caught up to him.
“I still do not understand why she fears such power. Not only is she the Chosen of Bhaal, but she has all the resources to rule at the end of all this. She cannot deny her own blood - and I’ve told her as such. Claiming her inheritance and the Crown is our best course of action.” She spoke nonchalantly, like she had no care in the world for the impact her words held. No awareness of how what she said is exactly what Tav was most terrified of doing.
A sudden wave of rage and this desire to defend what was his swept over Astarion; freezing him in place with its intensity.
He had actually quite enjoyed traveling with Minthara these last few weeks. Found that both he and Tav could both empathize with how they’d found her a prisoner in her own mind under Moonrise. Her practical mind was almost refreshing as it balanced and clashed with all the positive heroism Wyll and Karlach were always spouting. There was finally someone else in camp to side with him and Shadowheart as they planned their next course of actions.
But right now? Right now he wanted to rip her bloody head off.
“You did what?!” His voice peaked and broke with barely controlled anger. He rounded on her, catching the front of her leathers in his clawed fist. Minthara grunted as her back slammed into the nearest wall.
“I spoke the truth, Spawn. Embracing who she was always meant to be is our best course of action if we wish to survive this ordeal. And we can come out on top.” She’s unbothered in her delivery. The only show of distress is evident in the cold press of a dagger at Astarion’s throat. He growled in response.
He pulls her away from the wall slightly just to slam her back into it with enough force to make her grunt again. But then he releases her. Finding Tav’ira was more important.
“You have no gods damned clue about what she is meant to be. Don’t you ever say shit like that to her again or our next conversation will end very differently, Drow.” He hissed. He was already at the waypoint and teleporting away before Minthara even had a chance to blink.