Like Real People Do, Chapter Twelve

Gale Dekarios x Named! Tav x Astarion Ancunín

Chapter Synopsis: Seraphina battles with the tension between her and Astarion after his confession and with her intensifying distance to her goddess, Tymora.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Four and a Half. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Chapter Nine. Chapter Nine and a Half. Chapter Ten. Chapter Eleven.

Read on ao3.

Word Count: 4.5k

Notes: I moved across the country recently so this went on an accidental hiatus, but now we're back to our regularly scheduled programming of me yapping about my tiefling baby. Incredibly excited for the next few chapters as I wrap up Act 2 in this fic :)

Learn more about my Tav, Seraphina.

Chapter Eleven: What do I stand for?

Some nights, I stay up cashing in my bad luck Some nights, I call it a draw Some nights, I wish that my lips could build a castle Some nights, I wish they'd just fall off But I still wake up, I still see your ghost Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for What do I stand for? What do I stand for? Most nights, I don't know anymore

The words refused to leave Seraphina’s mouth. Her knees did not buckle, and her head stayed level, resistant to bowing. She took a deep breath and tried to will herself to kneel, lower her head, and pray. But her body was defiant. Or perhaps it was her soul. She slowly began to spin the ring that adorned her right index finger, desperate for her hands to be busy.

Seraphina could hear everyone around her packing up for their travel today. She wouldn’t have much time now. And yet, she couldn’t do it, even as she cast guidance on herself. It was a wonder she could even still tap into her divine magic when her soul felt so unsettled. She started to let out a groan, but immediately stopped when she felt someone watching her.

Ever since Shadowheart pointed out how often the wizard’s gaze settled on her, Seraphina had become aware of when Gale was looking at her…which was often. Though, the eyes on her now could’ve easily been Astarion’s. Her tail twitched as she heard the ground crunch behind her. The steps were not measured and feather-light, so faint they were almost imperceptible. They were lumbering and imprecise, the steps of someone whose knees ached more often than not. Seraphina relaxed. She didn’t know what she would do if it was rough black leather armor entering her peripheral vision instead of deep purple robes that smelled of parchment.

“I do hope you’re not regretting spending your night listening to me read the ramblings of a deranged necromancer,” Gale joked as he approached and stood next to her. “Instead of heading off to cut short the life of that Beshaba worshipper.”

She felt a tinge of guilt. When she told Gale of that conversation, he immediately assumed that her desire was to strike down the assassin. Seraphina couldn’t speak the words to even imply that she was the tiniest bit interested in discussing exactly what Beshaba’s offer was. There were still a few hours left before his ship departed…

“Hmm,” she said. “I thought you said any god would be honored to have me worship them?”

Gale blinked at her before he seemed to successfully recall the conversation and he chuckled. His rumbling laugh and the sparkle in his soft, adoring gaze were enough to banish some of the darkness that was encroaching on her heart.

“Yes, I did. Quite a sharp memory you have. You must’ve been quite bothersome as a student in the temple, I reckon,” Gale said, which made Seraphina nod with a mischievous smirk. “Perhaps I should have added that only a worthy god should have the blessing of your piety.”

“I suppose...” Seraphina said thoughtfully. But what makes a god worthy? Were any of them worthy?

“I wasn’t regretting last night,” she continued with a weak smile, placing a hand on his arm. “Today I can’t quite seem to…find the words to say in my morning prayer – or at least what I think is morning out here.”

Gale’s eyebrows lifted and he turned to face her more directly, but she continued looking past him into the darkness just outside their camp.

“I must admit this is a bit surprising. What has brought this on?” he asked. Seraphina barked out a laugh.

“What didn’t?” she replied. “Was it hard for you to pray to Mystra after everything that happened?”

Gale took a deep breath and exhaled. She lifted her head to look at him and his eyes were glazed over with grief.

“I…went through stages. There were days where I spent so much time at her altar, begging for a response, that the sun would sink beyond the horizon, and the moon would rise before I considered standing up. There were days when I would stew in my own vexation, and I avoided even casting a glance at her statue,” Gale replied, his voice becoming breathier as he now seemed to look off into the distance, taking himself back to those days in his tower.

“I doubt that anything I experienced on the emotional spectrum made a difference in how Mystra chose to respond to my transgression,” he said. Seraphina’s hand wandered down Gale’s arm, ghosted over his wrist, and she softly grabbed his hand.

“The gods are incredibly fickle, even towards their most devout followers. We truly are at their mercy,” Gale whispered. He squeezed Seraphina’s hand.

“Do you think it’s possible for mortals to take control back?” she asked.

“I believe we’re in control of how we respond to them and their demands. But raw, unbridled control over the directions of our lives, control that surpasses even the power of the gods?” Gale’s jaw clenched and, a moment later, he slowly shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

“Perhaps we’ll find out,” Seraphina whispered. When she went to pull away from Gale, his hand clutched hers, keeping her in place.

“Seraphina, if your mind is wandering where I believe it is, I beg you to move with caution,” Gale said, his voice firm. “It is one thing to turn away from a god. It is another altogether to flee in order to worship a deity that they despise.”

“It’s bad enough that we travel with a Shar worshipper. I won’t inflict a Beshaba upon us, Gale,” she faked a laugh. She went to pull away again. As their skin separated, cold instantly seeped into Seraphina’s bones and she wanted to take his hand again. She wanted to take his hand and say the truth: she was in love with him, and she would risk any punishment from Tymora if it meant she could destroy the Absolute and save Gale’s life. She would devote herself to Beshaba if it rid her of her wild magic, ending the threat she posed to Gale and herself. She wanted to tell him she would do whatever was necessary to keep them safe, to keep them from blowing each other up, to make it so they could be alive together.

She chose to say nothing – for now – and she turned to walk towards the dwindling campfire. Her breath hitched when she made eye contact with Astarion, who was standing near the fire. His lip curled into a sneer as his eyes flicked towards Gale and back to her. A sharp sting in her chest nearly made her fall to her knees. He quickly averted his gaze and continued filling his pack. She stayed on the opposite side of the circle to finish preparing her belongings.

Nothing about this morning felt normal. At some point, it had become routine for Seraphina to wake in the vampire’s arms with Astarion’s quiet whispers, delicate touches, and gentle kisses to her neck and shoulders rousing her from sleep. They would help each other put on their armor and Astarion would wait, albeit impatiently, for her to finish her prayer before he handed her breakfast to her. When they set out to deal with whatever horrors awaited them that day, he was never more than a few steps behind her. In the night, Astarion would join Seraphina in her tent, or she would come to his and the cycle would repeat.

But that was before Seraphina knew that it was all an act. When had Astarion’s affections and attention become genuine? She would probably never know. Truthfully, knowing which actions of his had been deceptive would probably break her heart more. There was nothing to do with the love she held for him except lock it away and try to move on. It wasn’t possible to trust him again. Was it?

Seraphina dared to look up and Astarion was already looking at her as he slung his pack over his shoulders. His expression gave nothing away as he turned and went over to Shadowheart.

Shortly afterwards, their party departed out into the cursed lands again.

x x x

“Tsk’va! Where is the druid?” Lae’zel hissed.

“He just needs more time!” Wyll shouted.

“Gods, we may not have much time left,” Gale panted.

Their party stood on a rocky ledge, surrounded almost entirely by violent victims of the shadow curse.

Their venture to the Thorm family mausoleum was interrupted by their discovery of Art Cullagh’s lute after they felled Malus Thorm in the House of Healing. Having to travel back to Last Light to assist Halsin in his personal mission to finally cure this land of the shadow curse wasn’t ideal, and neither was the current situation.

As she looked out at the swarm of enemies before them, Seraphina lifted her hands.

“Ira et Dolor!” Seraphina roared. A wall of gigantic flames sprouted from the ground, cutting through the crowd of undead.

Suddenly, a blanket of cold enveloped her. She gasped as ice flooded her veins and she gritted her teeth as she attempted to continue concentrating on the spell that was now keeping most of the sea of enemies at bay. Her knees buckled and her staff fell from her hands as her armor seemed to turn to stone, her body unable to withstand the weight of it. Seraphina forced her head to turn through the pain, only to see the looming figure of a Wraith, its dark tentacles wrapped around her.

Thwick.

Two arrows shot through the Wraith, flying over Seraphina’s head as the Wraith vanished with a ghastly groan. Astarion emerged through the dissipating shadow, and he thrusted her quarterstaff back into her hand.

“If you’re going to send us into unnecessary battles like this, you better stay alive to see them through,” the vampire hissed.

“Focus on the archers,” she responded. Despite his hostility, Astarion followed her directions. Gale appeared at her other side.

“Lean on me if you need to,” he whispered. Seraphina immediately leaned against him, and they stood back-to-back as Gale dropped an ice storm on the undead emerging from the nearby water.

Seraphina shook her head quickly to try and ground herself as she struggled to raise her arm for her next spell. That Wraith never should’ve been able to sneak up on her. Her focus was faltering, and she was putting everyone else at risk. After Halsin returned with Thaniel, it was during their battle with the indignant spirit Oliver that Karlach spoke up.

“Soldier, you’re leaving your left flank wide open. Where’s your head at?” Karlach said as she threw her pike at the shadowed owlbear.

As their party freed the tieflings and gnomes from the prison of Moonrise, it was Wyll that saved Seraphina from what would’ve surely been a fatal smite from one of the prison guards.

“Stay sharp, Seraphina. We need your head here with us,” the warlock commented.

At the tollhouse, a wail from a shadowed skull paralyzed Seraphina. Shadowheart helped Seraphina to move with a well-timed sacred flame eviscerating the visage.

“Keep focused,” Shadowheart scolded. “What’s the plan here?”

At the Waning Moon, Lae’zel knocked Seraphina out of the way of an explosion of fiery spew from the mouth of Thisobald Thorm.

“T’chaki! Pull yourself together!” Lae’zel shouted as she yanked the tiefling back to her feet.

Seraphina didn’t know how to explain herself and any words she attempted to come up with to say to anyone fell flat. Astarion, Wyll, and Karlach wouldn’t understand. Lae’zel, Gale, and Shadowheart were so devoted to their deities. Worshipping Tymora felt like it was in her bones and now her inner turmoil made her feel like she was being torn asunder. She’d lived her entire life and made nearly every decision in accordance with what she’d been taught in the temple. Who was she if she wasn’t following Tymora? It terrified her to even try and think of it. And yet the thought couldn’t leave her mind. Without Tymora, Seraphina’s confidence was obliterated.

The last few days had passed in a blur of enemies, injuries, familiar faces, and moving back and forth across the landscape. Seraphina’s only reprieve became when it was time for rest, and she would join Gale in his tent. Thankfully, Gale enjoyed staying up late. It was comforting to have his company. Every time she entered his tent, Gale had already planned how they spend their night – usually with a bottle of wine prepared as well. One night, they simply read different books while sitting next to each other. The next night, Gale had his lanceboard out. The following night, he had pulled out a map of the Sword Coast and asked her where she had traveled in her adventures. Those moments gave her peace – and set her body on fire at the same time with some of the heated looks Gale gave her as the bottle ran dry.

But tonight, she longed for solitude. The longer she stayed awake, the more she thought of Tymora. Karlach and Wyll were keeping Arabella entertained tonight, so Seraphina stumbled away from the campfire, her body aching for her bedroll and the bliss of being unconscious. But she should’ve known that nothing would be that easy.

As she turned to tie closed the flaps of her tent, familiar black shoes walked up on the other side. Seraphina tensed as she opened the flaps, looking up from her knees to see Astarion.

“Hello there,” he said.

“Well met,” she nodded.

Silence.

“Did you need something?” Seraphina asked.

Astarion awkwardly shuffled his feet. She looked at his face and she relaxed, some of her iciness melting away as she took in his appearance. To say he looked pathetic would be an understatement. He was frowning, which wasn’t strange, but he looked exhausted and gaunt.

“This is hardly something I want to ask of you at the moment, but you can imagine that it’s quite hard to find suitable prey out here in this wasteland,” he said. Seraphina blinked at him and Astarion grunted in frustration, crossing his arms.

“I need a little blood, darling. It’s…been a few days,” Astarion murmured. She searched her mind and realized the last time he fed from her was when they were all at Last Light.

“Of course. Come in,” Seraphina replied.

She shuffled further inside her tent and sat down, her back facing the opening, and she tilted her head, exposing her neck. She hoped that this would be a short visit. Her heart began to race as she felt Astarion sit behind her, his presence suddenly filling all the empty space in the tent. One of his hands grasped her shoulder and the other held her head, his cold fingers brushing her scalp and sending a shiver down her spine. Her tail twitched from where it draped over Astarion’s leg.

“May I?” he asked.

“Go ahead.”

Astarion’s lips briefly grazed her neck before his fangs entered her. She sighed as she felt her blood flow from her and into him. He took long gulps, soft groans of satisfaction escaping him as he fed. Astarion’s hand drifted from her shoulder and began to trail down her torso, resting on her waist.

It was too familiar. It was too much. She blinked back the tears welling up in her eyes as Astarion leaned closer, her back pressed against his chest. Mere days ago, she would’ve leaned into him. She counted to thirty in her head.

“That’s enough,” Seraphina gasped. Astarion’s fangs pulled out, but he didn’t pull away. She clenched her eyes shut and her hands gripped the fabric of her sleeping pants when Astarion lapped at the blood leaking away from the puncture wounds.

“Delicious as always,” Astarion said. Seraphina straightened and the hand that was on her head fell to her arm. She didn’t want to tell him to pull away, but she had to. They couldn’t stay close like this.

“I…uh, have things to do before bed. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she stammered, pulling away and turning to face him as her head spun from the blood loss, his hands falling to his legs.

“Ah, yes. Wouldn’t want to keep you from the wizard’s bedroll,” Astarion grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“I was planning on spending my night alone,” Seraphina said evenly.

“Why would you do that when Gale of Waterdeep is waiting just across camp for you?”

“Mind your tongue, Astarion.”

“You certainly can’t keep yours to yourself. Tell me, was anything of what you said the other night even true? Did what I had to say simply provide you an easy exit to finally go after the man you truly wanted now that touching you won’t cause him to level a city?”

His sudden vitriol sent her reeling.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. Nothing has even happened between Gale and I,” Seraphina replied. “I didn’t expect any of this and we’ve lived every day not knowing if we’ll even have our souls or our bodies in a few hours. I wasn’t going to turn my heart from love. You…you have no idea how I’ve felt. To care so deeply about two people – one of them doomed to die if the tadpole didn’t do it first and the other seemingly only interested in sex and a superficial relationship.”

“I didn’t even want to have sex with you. I didn’t want that then and it’s not what I want now,” Astarion snapped. “You – you made me feel things I’ve never felt before, but it was stupid. All of this was. Enjoy your night. Sweet dreams.”

He angrily exited the tent, but the tension remained. Seraphina’s mind swirled. She thought about Astarion’s words tonight and everything he said in his tent that night that changed everything between them. She turned the words over in her mind over and over again as she laid on her bedroll. There had to be a way forward for the two of them, but she couldn’t figure it out.

And then a different realization struck Seraphina as she slowly let sleep consume her.

She hadn’t prayed today. Or yesterday. Or the day before. Or…even the day before. For the first time more than a decade…Seraphina wasn’t praying to Tymora.

The thought didn’t unsettle her.

x x x

Camp was quiet except for Arabella’s chatter the following night. Everyone was bloodied, bruised, and drained after the events of the day. Completing the Gauntlet of Shar was no easy task. Shadowheart had angrily insisted that they continue through the final door, but Seraphina had to tell her how foolish such a thing would be after the beating their party had received at the hands of Yurgir the orthon and his merregons. The Sharran wisely pointed out that killing Yurgir wasn’t required, but for Seraphina, it absolutely was. Astarion’s need for it to be done was reason enough. Even if he had been unreasonably cruel recently, she knew that his brooding wouldn’t last.

Seraphina couldn’t help the sneer on her face as Raphael theatrically explained the infernal contract that had been carved into Astarion’s skin.

“And that, my tragic and toothsome friend, is that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business elsewhere,” the cambion purred before disappearing in a puff of black smoke, leaving behind an air of sulfur.

Seraphina looked at Astarion and his face was…surprisingly blank except for his furrowed brows and his pursed lips. It was odd, especially when her own body hummed with anger for the vampire lord that awaited them in Baldur’s Gate.

“Hmm…” Astarion hummed.

“We’ll stop Cazador,” she said, crossing her arms to give her hands something to squeeze.

“You still think it’s that simple,” he replied with a scowl.

“You’ll never be free while he’s alive, so there’s only one option for us.”

He frowned and his eyes focused on the ground.

“I hate how right you are,” he grumbled. “I knew he wouldn’t leave me alone. But if I’m the key to this power he craves, he’ll never stop hunting me.”

He looked up at her, his eyes wide and vulnerable.

“I need to take the fight to him. And I need you to help me,” Astarion said.

“I told you I would. I’ll make good on my word,” Seraphina nodded.

Astarion looked her up and down carefully. He scrutinized her face, his eyes staring into her own before darting over her eyebrows, cheeks, and lips.

“Yes, you did say that…I believe you,” he said.

Astarion stalked away and disappeared into his tent. Seraphina turned to look towards the campfire. Everyone sat around the fire with Arabella and Thaniel nearby playing with Scratch and the cub, who had recently been named Swoosh by Arabella. Gale stood at the cauldron, crafting their dinner.

Seraphina’s heart skipped a beat as Gale burst into laughter at something Halsin said. His smile was hypnotizing, and she wanted to walk over and be the one to make him laugh like that again. He must’ve felt her staring because he looked up and their eyes instantly met.

He grinned at her, and she took moved forward, pulled towards him like a moth to a flame. And then she stopped. The weight of her sadness hit her, and she couldn’t take another step. She smiled back and turned away, going into her tent.

Seraphina isolated herself, drinking from a bottle of firewine while surrounded by empty bottles as she crafted an overabundance of potions. Her hands ached and the weight of her coin pendant against her chest almost made it difficult to breathe. At least the scent of all the herbs was pleasant.

A rustle at the opening of her tent made her jump and she whipped around only to see Astarion crouching at the entrance, a bowl in his hands.

“It’s getting quite late. You haven’t eaten,” he commented.

“We don’t have too many food supplies out here. You can save it for Arabella,” Seraphina replied.

“Resist your urge to be so damn selfless for once.”

He fully entered the tent and shoved the bowl into her hands. She stifled a moan at the enticing smell of the soup. Astarion watched her and, as she finally lifted the spoon to her lips, he looked away, observing her surroundings.

“I believe we have more than enough potions, darling,” Astarion said, gesturing at about ten healing potions.

“I’m just being careful. We could use a few more elixirs,” she mumbled around a bite of carrot.

“If you tell me the recipe, I’m happy to assist you. Keep eating.”

He scooted closer to her and picked up an empty bottle. He moved over her mortar and pestle and looked at her expectantly.

“There’s really no need, but I appreciate the offer,” Seraphina replied. Astarion didn’t budge. She sighed in defeat and looked over the ingredients.

“Take…some mergrass and three hill giant fingers. Crush both of those please.”

He smiled at her, and he got to work. She ate as he crafted elixirs, his hands a little clumsy at first handling the pestle and keeping the salts and suspensions within the mortar, but his dexterous fingers eventually got quite used to the motions. He asked her quite possibly a hundred questions about alchemy, ingredients, harvesting, and storage of ingredients. She chose not to question his curiosity because it was nice to just talk for the first time in a while.

As soon as Seraphina finished her food, she shooed away Astarion’s hands.

“I’ve only done two!” he protested.

“And I appreciate it, but I really can handle it from here. I quite enjoy it. It’s a mindless little activity that keeps my hands busy,” Seraphina said.

Astarion pouted. He looked around her tent again. He seemed anxious to be doing something himself. She was reminded of one of her young nieces, Inyis, who loved asking questions and investigating anything she could in any room she entered. He reached over and grabbed her pale blue robes, inspecting the fabric.

“Well, you simply can’t walk around with your clothing in this condition,” Astarion’s finger glided over a rip that she had received courtesy of a bonesaw in the House of Healing. “Do you want me to sew this up for you?”

“It’s not that big.”

“Must you be so difficult?” Astarion huffed, dropping the robe. “I’m trying to repay you and you’re making it impossible.”

“Repay me for what?” Seraphina asked.

“For…” Astarion hesitated. “For risking your neck to help me kill that orthon. You didn’t have to, and I almost expected you not to after all that’s happened between us.”

“You could just say ‘thank you,’” Seraphina shrugged.

“Hmm,” his eyes darted to the ground before he looked up at her again, his jaw stiff. “Thank you for helping me. It was very kind.” The words sounded clunky and foreign coming out of his mouth.

Seraphina smiled.

“You’re welcome, Astarion,” she replied.

Astarion’s eyebrows furrowed.

“You truly want nothing from me? After everything I’ve done and said to you?” he asked.

“My love is freely given, Astarion. You never needed to do anything to earn it and you’ve never needed to repay me. Though I wouldn’t mind you not being an ass every now and then,” Seraphina said. “But you don’t owe me anything.”

His eyebrows lifted and his lips quivered as he stared at her.

“Why?”

“I care for you very much, Astarion. I think I always will,” she whispered. “I…I wish that things happened differently, but I can be your friend. I want to be your friend if you’ll let me, if that’s what you want.”

It would be a process to build a friendship with Astarion without any romantic or sexual entanglements. Seraphina knew how she loved. She knew the kind of relationship she desired was something that Astarion wasn’t ready for – and it could be something he may never want. But she wanted him in close in her life for however much time they had left.

Astarion’s eyes glistened.

He held out his hand. Seraphina placed her hand in his and Astarion placed his other on top of hers, staring at their hands for a moment as his thumb gently rubbed over her knuckles. His cold touch sent a shiver up her arm, but she didn’t pull away. She wasn’t going to run from him again. If Astarion needed someone to run to, Seraphina was prepared to be that person. She didn’t know fully who she was without Tymora, but she knew that she could, would, and did love with all her heart.

“A friend. I’ve had more than my fair share of lovers but…a friend?” Astarion murmured, almost speaking to himself. He lifted his head and, as he smiled, the cold Seraphina felt in her body was suddenly replaced by warmth.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend,” the vampire said. “Until you.”

Like Real People Do, Chapter Twelve

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