#dadstarion

In the aftermath of any other scuffle, Astarion would’ve already strutted up to you to playfully steal the drying blood from your skin. With a razor sharp smile and a challenging curl to his brow. He’d mutter something half-committed about dirty bhaalspawn, before throwing in a poorly concealed attempt at booking your attention for a longer feeding back at camp.

As it was however, he kept his distance. The weight of his past, and the reality of ascension slipping through his cold fingertips, seemed to slow his steps, so much so that every stair leading out of Cazador’s desecrated temple looked like a battle. His gaze was far away. Contemplative. Several steps ahead of him, the rest of your weary party climbed. Karlach met your searching gaze with a heavy smile, to which you acknowledged her with a sombre dip of your chin. 

Immediately beside her, Wyll appeared calculating, he’d been quiet since you’d hauled his Father from the submersible and the shit-show of a reunion that had occurred immediately after. He’d taken to hiding in Karlach’s shadow, and allowing her to take the lead when he was addressed. So long as he kept being an asset in battle, you felt no desire to draw him from his shell. Sometimes, cruel thoughts were best left to be soothed by people not dirtied by the blood of the innocent; like the barbarian at his elbow. 

The silence persisted. It stood patiently in the background as the group piled into the elevator, tapping its foot in time with the crank hauling the device up to the ground floor of the palace. It stepped on the heels of boots as you led the group down dark halls, past ornate doors and portraits whose eyes seemed to follow you, back out into the sunlight. It seemed to throw its arm around your shoulders in a mocking attempt at camaraderie, that left your throat tight and your back aching with the weight of what you would have to face next.

“It grows late,” you said, the words finally banishing the weight of the silence. Wyll’s attention rose from the cobblestones. Karlach was already watching you with raised brows and a tight expression. Whilst Astarion blinked as if he’d forgotten he’d even had company. “Orin will not be patient for much longer. I must deal with her tonight.” “Alright, Soldier.” Karlach nodded readily, “just let us gather our heads, get some food, and catch a nap, and we’ll be ready. Right, you two?”

Wyll nodded with a smile that didn’t meet his eyes, whilst Astarion at least tried to drag some of his usual bravado back onto his face. The pair of them looked exhausted. Even the walk back to the Elf Song would prove challenging, let alone dragging them into the second fight of the day. Because that was how this was bound to end of course, in bloodshed, and death. Orin would allow it to progress in no other fashion.

“No time,” you said, your voice grave as you shifted on your feet. Balduran’s Giantslayer clicked against the metal buttons of its sheath strapped to your back. 

Karlach narrowed her eyes, but otherwise did not voice her disagreement to the plan as she nodded resolutely. “Okay, did you want to swap us out for some of the others?” “No,” you said, glancing up at the sun’s position in the sky to buy a couple breaths of time. Astarion’s attention was on you now, you could practically hear his mind spinning. “Orin is <i>my</i> problem. Return to camp. Rest. I will be back by sunrise.” “You’re not going alone,” Wyll dismissed sternly, a sudden punch to his words as his backbone abruptly reared its head. He stepped out of Karlach’s shadow then, eyes narrowed and assertive, as if preparing to tackle you to the ground in the event you ran.

“Darling,” Astarion added, almost in unison to the monster hunter. “If you think, even for a moment, that I am going to let you walk into that lunatic’s temple without backup, after <i>everything</i> we have been through together, then you need to get your empty head checked.” “You’re exhausted,” you told him evenly. “I can’t ask this of you.” “Well, then it’s good that you don’t have to ask.” He said primly. “Now,” he clapped his hands, jolting Karlach from her mind, “which way to the murder temple? I’d wager the sewers.” He spun on his heel and strode off. Wyll, his head held high and determined in his strides, promptly fell into line, leaving you gaping at their backs like a fool.

Karlach’s hand falling to your shoulder with a thump and a friendly squeeze that made your pointed ears flatten. Recovering quickly, you turned to find her watching you with burning eyes and a half-smile. “We’ve come too far to abandon you now, Soldier. And you’ve done too much for us to even consider leaving you to deal with this alone.” “She’s crazy,” you said, because that explained why exactly they <i>had</i> to reconsider. “She’ll <i>play</i> with me, but she’ll <i>slaughter</i> you.” “Then don’t <i>let</i> her,” Karlach implored, and she gave your shoulder another squeeze.

Something in her tone, something in her touch and her honesty, struck down the terror festering in your belly. Let you draw in a full lungful of air once more, even though you hadn’t noticed when it had become difficult to breathe. 

She smiled with warmth as your resolve hardened. Your bowed spine straightened beneath her touch. “There you are.” Then she lifted her head and called out to the other two still striding away, “OI! You’re going the wrong way!” Quieter, she whispered to you, “they’re going the wrong way, right?” “Yeah.” You conceded with a tired chuckle. “Entirely the wrong way.”

>_<