To Baldur's Gate

Chapter Twelve

Our lovemaking continued through much of the night and didn't end until we fell asleep, content and exhausted. I remember the smell of him as I drifted off, our limbs tangled, and his normally coiffed hair messy from my hands. I had never felt so peaceful wrapped in someone's arms. 

The sunlight was rising over the cliffs and painting streaks across the pond. Rays streamed through the trees and shone in my eyes, waking me up. I sat up, slowly, the deep ache within me a pleasant reminder of what had happened last night. When I looked at the spot next to me, it was empty, no sign of my Astarion. I grabbed for my pants and the rest of my clothing, shoving my arms and legs into the fabric angrily. Of course he would ditch me as soon as he could - it's not as if last night meant anything to him. Just like it hadn't meant anything to me. 
I stood, ready to march back to camp all alone, and began walking a few steps. 

"Oh." I saw him, standing in the sunlight just a few yards from where I was laying asleep. His arms were out, as if embracing the warmth of the sun. The light kissed his face and illuminated some of the hickeys I had bestowed upon his chest and ... other places. I noticed his back. The scars I had felt with my fingers I could now see plainly. 

"How did you get those scars?" I asked. 

He didn't budge. "Cazador. He spent hours carving every detail on the floor of a cell. Poetry, he called it. After all these years, I still don't know what it says." 

"I could draw it for you, if you'd like?" I searched the area for a stick to use. "I'm by no means the most talented artist, but I can make a quick sketch of what I see." 

Astarion's eyes opened wide as he looked at me. "I can't believe I haven't thought of that before. Of course! Yes, draw it for me." 

With the stick that I found, I took a few minutes drawing the intricacies of his scarring, but as I drew, the design became more familiar. "Astarion ... ?" 

He turned, eyes hungrily going over the image I had drawn for him. He couldn't hide the disappointment from his features when he saw the strange image.  

"Why would Cazador write on your back in infernal?" I asked, weary of the answer. Astarion's jaw dropped. Obviously, he knew as much as I did. 

"Infernal? What in the Hells?" Astarion crouched down by my side to inspect the drawing in the sand once more. His fingers hovered over it, careful not to smudge anything, but his hands were shaking. "Poems. I should have known better."

"I could read it for you. It might be a bit rusty, but I can give it a go." I had learned a bit of infernal from my sister's books, thinking someday in might come in handy. 

"I'm not sure if I want to know, honestly," Astarion muttered. "Hells. Go ahead, Tav. Tell me what's been marked on my skin for the last hundred years." 

My eyes scanned the ritualistic markings and began piecing letters together. I couldn't put phrases in the right order and the idea that I wouldn't be able to help him infuriated me. As hard as I tried, the words evaded me. 
"All I'm getting are a few words. Something about oath and eternal fire. And ascension." I looked up to him. "Do those words mean anything to you?" 

Astarion laughed, but it was a dry, brittle sound. "Not a thing at all. Best to leave it, I suppose. What you can't read can't hurt you." The look in his eyes made it obvious that he did want to know what his scars implied. 

"Let's ask Karlach." I stood up and looked for his white shirt, then pressed myself against his sun-warmed chest, the small contact filling my heart to the brim. 

"What? No, no," Astarion wagged a finger at me. "The last thing I need is for the whole group to know what secrets are carved into me. I refuse to be a - a lesson in infernal dialect for Gale and Shadowheart to study. Who knows what Lae'zel would say with all of them fawning over me like that." He put on his shirt and turned his head away from me, but his fingers found their way to me, making contact against my skin wherever they could. 

"If you don't want Karlach to help, then I won't press the issue," I said. "But you must know that these people, our friends, will not treat you any differently if you ask for help." I stood on my tiptoes and landed a kiss against his sunburned cheek. "And I swear to you, if any of them laugh or gawk, I'll gauge out their eyes and slit their tongues." 

Astarion hummed, approval in his tone. "I suppose ... with an offer like that, it's hard to refuse." 

I smiled my brightest smile. "Wonderful." Walking away and back to camp, I felt his eyes still on me. "What is it?" I turned back around to see him standing there, grinning that lopsided grin that only I ever saw. The sun turned the tips of his hair into a glowing halo of light that surrounded his angelic face. 

"No comments on last night?" He called to me. I blushed, recalling the way his name had sounded coming from my lips - desperate for release. It was the best and longest sex I had ever had, and I was already hungry for more. 

"It was fine, I suppose," I said instead, lying. "I've had better." 

Astarion's eyebrow quirked up, noting the challenge in my voice. "Next time, Tav, I'll be sure to surpass your expectations." 

I turned back towards camp, a smile stuck to my face and heart beating too fast. When the haze of last night finally lowered, a realization dawned on me, nearly tripping me on my own feet. 

I was falling in love.