There you stood, right in front of Astarion, the most condescending glare on your face. For the first time in the entire time Astarion had known you, you looked at him like he was worth nothing. In fact, you looked at him like he was worth less than nothing, like you would have to pay someone to take his bothering whole as a being off your hands. Just so you could escape from him.
He could feel the horror infiltrate every single bone and muscle in his body, he could feel his frown drop and as if a mirror he felt himself shatter the moment that a loud scoff exited your body, snapping him out of his instance of hope, wincing back to reality as you spoke.
“Why are you clinging onto me so tight, when you were nothing more than an escape plan. I mean you said it yourself did you not? You have been nothing but a safety net for me.”
Astarion felt his heart wrangle, felt his guts twist and tie off his voice, felt his cowardice prevent him from questioning how his wonderful love could suddenly tear into him so easily?
He felt the harsh lump in his throat make his own history so hard to swallow, in fact he wanted to wail and scream. He wanted to demand answers, but with the look currently on your face, he doubted he wanted to know what would exit your mouth next. What words you could possibly string together to further tear him to nothing.
And then you just turned, started walking away from him. He couldn’t tell if you refused to look back, but he once more found himself begging to the same gods that had left him in silence that you would turn and look at him, that this was all just one big disgusting joke.
Astarion barely even felt the blade on his side be removed, too out of it to even register that his only defense mechanism was leaving. By the time he looked all he saw was your form, non-dominant hand clutching your side, stumbling towards the you that was leaving.
Astarion saw the vision. You would kill the you that had loved him. He must have been so out of it that he was picturing his love’s own doppelganger.
He saw the blade go into the sky and he saw the way your broken frame trembled forward to thrust the blade into the other you. He saw you fall to the ground and raise the knife again, clinging to nothingness as the knife was brought down with unimaginable strength considering how hurt you looked.
And you stood up, blade in hand. You turned to him, a blank expression, seemingly just wanting to give back the blade to the kind stranger that had lent it to you. But as you looked up at him, the blade outstretched in hand, he saw that look.
The big dumb dopey smile that made him feel like the sun was overrated, since he could see the stars right in front of him, his wonder of a nebula staring back at him.
You barely managed to speak as he rushed to catch your collapsing form, internally screaming about how he let himself get caught up in the hope that you had given back to him. He refused to let you die here, simply refused to let any silent otherworldly being take you from him. Death was not an option.
He grabbed your fadingly living body and ran back to camp, rushed through bushes and shrubbery, doing his best to run. He felt like he could still breathe as the burning in his chest became more discernible.
Astarion shouted in desperation, letting out a ‘Where in the hells is that big bear when you need him’ as Shadowheart peeked out of her tent due to the commotion.
Halsin stepped out of his tent and rushed over to Astarion, beckoning the vampire to lay down his love on a raised bedding nearby.
“Please help him, I beg of you, I can’t lose him.”
Astarion pleaded to Halsin, as if the man had turned into a god that for once had heard and answered his prayers.
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