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summary: 'I was going to offer Auntie Ethel her freedom,' you say, 'in exchange for a wish.'
‘I wanted a cure — ’
‘You wanted immortality.’
‘I wanted to save — ’
‘You wanted forever,’ Auntie Ethel says condescendingly. ‘I’ve given it to you, sweetums. Don’t you like it?’
You don’t like it. Your stomach is cramping so hard you can hardly stand, and every time you try to take a step, nothingness crunches at the base of your skull. Your vision has gone from blurry to nonexistent. You try to follow her cackle. You try to follow her anything, but all you can hear is keening from a wounded animal. You claw at your stomach and stumble forward.
How utterly stupid you’ve been.
Had you asked any of your companions, they would have told you that trusting Auntie Ethel after everything you’ve done to her was insanity. It’s your own fault. You have no one else to blame for how miserable you feel. But she had dangled a carrot in front of you, a wish and a promise, and you had wanted so desperately to reach out your hand and take it to let bygones be bygones. You had been hopeful, stupid, naïve to trust Ethel.
Your knees give out beneath you and you collapse on the floor of the Blushing Mermaid. Ethel regards you coolly even as her features shift back into Captain Grisly’s. She leaves you with nothing.
When you wake next, you expect nothing but excruciating pain.
You expect your lungs to be pulled from your chest. You expect insanity, and yet there is nothing but Shadowheart’s frigid hands against your cheeks dragging you back to reality. She healed you. You gaze at her blearily, but she can’t even open her mouth to scold you before Astarion is shoving her out of the way.
‘You,’ he snaps, ‘get out.’’
Shadowheart won’t take it to heart, you hope, but she does scurry out of the inn room before anything else can be said. Your vision is still rough around the edges, but you can see Astarion as clear as day. The sight of him makes you smile stupidly, and even though he’s practically snarling, baring his teeth and grasping your blankets with his hands, you’re not afraid of him. But after remembering how Auntie Ethel betrayed you, your heart sinks into your stomach faster than you can stop it and you sob uncontrollably, pushing the palms of your hands against your eyes roughly.
‘What is wrong?’ he asks, suddenly frantic. He wraps his hands around your wrists. ‘Are you still hurt? Shadowhea — ’
‘ — nothing, nothing,’ you weep. Your head feels too full and your stomach hurts.
‘If that wretched hag still has a hold on you,’ Astarion says fiercely, ‘I’ll rip her throat out with my teeth.’
‘No,’ you say. ‘I don’t think — I don’t think that’s it anymore.’
Astarion takes a little time to contemplate what you mean by that, but you like the way he dotes on you rather than the way he scolds you for your mistakes. You stare at him miserably. He frowns back.
‘What were you thinking?’ he asks, looking terribly sad and wrecked. ‘Why did you go alone?’
‘I was going to offer Auntie Ethel her freedom,’ you say, avoiding his eyes so you don’t have to see the curiosity in them, ‘in exchange for a wish. I was going to give her a tadpole disguised as the one from the Emperor in exchange for…a wish scroll.’
Astarion raises his chin as he attempts to process the information. Confusion, pride and then terror flickers across his face as he digests what you said, and then he’s reaching for your hands and holding onto them tightly.
‘But she didn’t want to help me,’ you say. ‘She really, really hates us, Astarion.’
‘What could you have possibly wanted a wish scroll for?’ he asks.
You aren’t sure if he’s serious or if he’s being obtuse on purpose. You peer at him cautiously, watching him as he watches you shuffle up the headboard so you’re sitting up more than you are resting. You have a raging headache and your stomach hasn’t stopped rolling since you woke up, but that won’t stop your endless altruism from puzzling Astarion or you from trying to comfort him.
‘For you,’ you say shyly.
‘Me?’ Astarion scoffs.
‘I was going to wish it away,’ you say. ‘Your vampirism. You’re so beautiful in the sunlight, I wanted to see it — ’
You aren’t able to finish your sentence before Astarion is toppling over you. He burrows his face in your hair and cradles the back of your neck to help with the strain. He kisses your forehead next and studies the way your hands shake in your lap.
‘You’re silly, I don’t think you even realize it,’ Astarion says softly. He reaches for your hands and smooths his thumbs over your knucklebones. ‘You’re so fragile, so human and yet…you inelegantly strike at gods and mystical things without fear. I could learn so much from your bravery.’
Astarion does not laugh at you. He does not applaud you for your attempt at deception. He doesn’t even mildly ridicule you for what a ridiculous plan it was. He sits with you until your stomach hurts less and you feel hungrier, and when it’s time for you to eat, Astarion carefully feeds you spoonfuls of Gale’s soup.
‘If I could make a wish,’ he says when you’re warm and cozy, basking in the attention as he smooths your hair away from your face, ‘I’d wish for you to be alive forever. Being a vampire spawn wouldn’t be so bad if I could have a thousand and one days with you.’
