Capitaine d'Oulios

Why was he crying? Cazador was dead, he was free, so why was he sad? He didn’t know what he was feeling anymore, his whole body felt raw and chaffed. This chaos inside of him, the darkness of his anguish and despair, it was all too much. He sat back on his heels and cried for what was no more, for what was to come.

He could sense the others close by, looting and helping his brothers and sisters get their bearing. A small part of him felt ashamed that they would see him like this, unable to control his emotions, but the louder inner voice knew they wouldn’t mind. Not after everything they’d gone through together, the confessions shared over campfires and through hardships. They knew more about him than the people who he’d spent two centuries with. Heavy footsteps joined him by Cazador's corpse, easily recognisable by the gait. Large hands settled on his shoulders, warm and comforting and gentle. Astarion cried harder, his last barrier falling. He was pulled by strong arms against a familiar chest, the smell of Halsin enveloping him soothing some of the raw edges. He hiccuped gracelessly and leaned into the gentle kiss the druid graced his bloodied cheek. "I've yearned for this moment for so long, I don't know why I'm crying," he managed to let out through a choked up throat. He turned and brought his arms around Halsin to seek more comfort, blocking the sight of his old master. Let him hide from the world, for a little while.

Halsin hummed and soothingly stroked his bare back. "It doesn't matter. You're overwhelmed. It's your body simply flushing out the overflow of emotions."

A new flow of tears came at that and fell down the front of Halsin's leather armour. Halsin hugged him tighter and made comforting noises, never letting go. It felt like forever before Astarion's tears dwindled and he calmed down. He didn't want to leave the safety of Halsin's chest, his face hidden from the world. Halsin was stroking his hair, strong fingers gently disturbing his curls. Astarion had to be a mess of snot and blood when he finally felt strong enough to pull away. Halsin fetched a handkerchief from his person and started to wipe his face. "I don’t need your pity," Astarion mumbled, trying to take the tissue from his hand. Halsin didn't give it and continued his task, carefully wiping his lashes.

"It's not pity," he said. "I empathise. I want to help." Astarion sighed. Of course he'd want to help. Halsin was the opposite of him, so good and earnest. Where Astarion wouldn’t have hesitated to mock and ridicule to mask his own insecurities, Halsin comforted and helped because not only did he understand how it felt, but he chose to be kind. Kindness was not something Astarion often chose to do for others, let alone for himself.

The meltdown had left him empty again, but a good kind of empty this time. He was floating in catharsis, a fog muting his emotions. It wouldn’t last, it never did, so he would enjoy it while he could.

Once as cleaned as he could get, Halsin cradled his face and kissed the tight skin under each eyes, then his lips. Astarion leaned into him, absolutely grateful for this bear-shaped druid. He didn’t know he could love someone as much as he did Halsin until he met him.

"I don't deserve you. You're so good, and I'm... not."

"Nonsense. A careful heart is a heart still."

Astarion had a small, albeit tired, smile, which seemed to be Halsin’s goal.

"Come, my heart,” he said, helping him to his feet. “There's nothing to gain in remaining here. Gale and Tav will help your brothers and sisters to the Underdark."

Astarion grimaced and glanced around to see the other would-be sacrifices get their bearings, the telltale glow of Gale's magic illuminating the chamber. He sheathed his dagger and followed Halsin out, never glancing back.

-

Later, much later at the Elfsong Tavern, he tried to read the naughty book Tav had gifted him. She had “found” it somewhere, she’d claimed, but the bookstore crest was still on it and he knew there had been nothing bought from that store. Nevertheless, the book was interesting, but he was in no mindset to focus on it. A few companions of this merry band checked up on him, in their own way. Some were more obvious than others, like Karlach whose hug did comfort him. She was so keen on touching others, after going so many years burning too hot, and Astarion couldn’t resist her puppy eyes.

Shadowheart had a talk with him. Only a few days ago they’d gone to the Shar temple and found out the truth about her childhood and how she’d become a Sharran. All the pain she’d unknowingly inflected on her parents… it was a lot to process. They shared the same concern for the future, now that their past was cut loose.

Now he laid with Halsin in the druid’s bed, his own too messy for two people to lay in it, let alone someone as large as Halsin. They were laying skin to skin, Astarion’s front moulded to Halsin’s side with his thick arm wrapped snugly around him. He was using his pectoral as a pillow and lazily exploring his firm stomach, the fine hairs on it tickling his palm. Neither was in the mood for sex, let alone when their only intimacy was a sheer screen hiding them from their companions. Tonight was for resting, a respite through the storm.

"Your kindness from earlier... I won't forget it. Thank you"

Halsin nuzzled his hair. "I hated seeing your distress. The least I could offer was a shoulder to cry on."

The sorrow was still present, but not as difficult to bear as it had been hours ago. "He made me to be a sacrifice, nothing but a pawn in his twisted game. I won't be a puppet on his strings anymore. I can be better than him."

"You already are. Your will is strong. Of that have no doubt, my heart, and that I will be there to support you."