🫶🏻

You cling to him, arms around his neck as the blizzard rages. The cold bites at exposed skin like a living thing, but Astarion presses your face into his shoulder, shielding you from the worst of it.

“Honestly,” he mutters as he trudges forward, “if some miserable winter god has a grudge against us, they could have had the decency to send a polite warning.”

Another gust slams into you both. He tightens his hold.

“But no,” he continues, “they simply must throw a tantrum.”

You manage a faint laugh. “You’re complaining a lot for someone who doesn’t even feel the cold.”

“Yes, well,” he snaps, “I feel your cold.”

The words leave his mouth and hang there—unguarded.

He stumbles over them a second later. “I mean—that you’re freezing and I don’t want to lug a human icicle around. Very inconvenient.”

But he pulls you closer.

The storm roars louder, drowning out everything but his voice.

“Stay awake,” he says firmly. “No drifting off. You’ll be warm soon.”

You can barely hear him now, the wind so loud it feels like the world is splitting apart. The blizzard is pure chaos, swirling white that blinds, freezes, and swallows every breath.

But Astarion keeps going.

Step by step.

Through snow up to his knees.

Through wind that tries to rip you from his arms.

He shields you with his body, curls around you when the gale is too strong, bares his teeth at the storm like he can intimidate it into submission.

And somehow you reach a shallow cave—a sliver of shelter carved into a mountainside.

He ducks inside and lowers you carefully against the rock wall.

Then his hands are on your shoulders, your face, brushing ice from your lashes with a gentleness he should not know how to possess.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Your lips tremble—not from cold this time.

Astarion’s expression shifts.

A rare, flickering fear.

“Don’t… scare me like that,” he says quietly.

It’s almost lost beneath the storm.

He clears his throat instantly. “I mean, don’t slow us down again. Obviously.”

But he pulls your frozen hands into his own, warming them between his palms like he’s afraid to lose you to the snow.