Like Starlight and Wine (A Baldur's Gate 3 Astarion x Tav Fanfic)

14. A Close Call At The Cove

The battle with the harpies is brutal. When I land the first blow on one of the singing harpies nearest to me, it momentarily breaks the spell over us, allowing my companions to see the true nature of the creatures before them. But having been blindsided by their songs, we are not prepared for their attacks. And every time we think we're gaining the upper hand, one of the harpies sings another song, casting another spell, alluring us again unless we can break free from the spell. They seem to have the advantage on us.

Another harpy opens its mouth and this time it's my turn again to be lured. As one of the harpies directs its spell-song at me, I am suddenly walking on clouds, light as a feather. My body is intoxicated by the melody, by the unearthly beauty of the voice. My chest fills with yearning. I want to get closer - I need to get closer.

My companions' voices sound hollow and distant in my ears. They're calling after me, but I don't know what they're saying, nor do I care, as I wade through the water in a trance, moving closer to the angelic beings. Everything is like a blur as I reach my destination. Then, one of Gales missile spells whistles through the air overhead and crashes directly into the angel in front of me, hurting it. But no -- it's no angel. The spell is broken once more and towering over me with a wingspan longer than I am tall, is a hideous harpy.

I don't have enough time to pull out my wooden shield to block its attack, as a taloned claw lunges for me. I squint my eyes shut and recoil, hoping I at least have enough time to dodge, but when the claw lands, it's not on me. The sound of impact, of flesh tearing and blood spraying - it sounds like the stuff my Dark Urge's dreams are made of.

I open my eyes to see where the claw landed, but all I see is silvery-white hair like starlight - all splattered with sparkling red drops of fresh blood.

"Astarion..?!" How... when did he get here?

He stumbles back, retches, streams of blood like scarlet ribbons pouring from his lips. He clutches at his stomach, where I assume the claw tore into him, but with his back facing me I can't see the severity of the wound. He regains his footing quickly, draws back with the dagger in his hand and plunges the blade deep into the harpy's throat, then twists it.

The monster screeches in agony as its own blood spills from the jagged, gaping wound in its neck, dribbling to the ground in clotted globules and mixing with the puddle of Astarion's blood on the stones below our feet. I watch the moment as life leaves the harpy's eyes, and then its body crumples to the ground in a heap of talons and feathers. Dead.

Gale and Lae'zel make quick work of the remaining harpies, and see to the young tiefling boy who is uninjured, but my attention is now fully on Astarion as he sinks to the ground, grunting in pain, still clutching onto his wounded stomach.

"Let me see it," I order him, not so gently grabbing his arm to try and pry it away from his injury.

At first he resists, pulling against me, but when he opens his mouth to speak he only gargles and sputters, gagging on his own blood rising in the back of his throat. 

This is bad. Really bad.

From what I've gathered in the short time that I've known him, Astarion hasn't been one to succumb to wounds so easily. He may be the party's sassy little princess, but he is also tenacious as hell. He has a will to survive like no one else I know - perhaps even to a fault. But lately he's been growing weak. I noticed it first the other night, the way his angular features were thinning, and his eyes were becoming sunken with dark circles. I'm not sure how exactly - but he's been ill. Unwell. And it's been affecting him.

I am finally able to remove his hand from his wounded stomach and at first all I can see is a mangled mess of torn clothes and butchered flesh. Glistening blood pools in the yawning lacerations that stare grimly up at me. He... he's not going to make it long like this.