The Quest for Dawn

Chapter 5: The Journey Fraught With Peril

Tav's mind raced—what could she possibly say to ease this multi-layered pain? He was blind but could feel the sun; it was a cruel juxtaposition, the kind only the gods—or fate—could orchestrate.

Astarion's sobbing started to subside, replaced by ragged breaths. She moved to his side, kneeling in the damp sand beside him, her own heart a heavy weight in her chest. Carefully, she placed her hand on his shoulder, feeling him tense under her touch before gradually relaxing.

"Astarion..." She spoke softly, her throat tightened with emotion, "I'm here, my love. We'll – we'll get through this. Whatever this is."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for Astarion's response. Finally, he reached up and felt her hand clasp his. The grip he returned was almost painfully tight.

"I know, darling," he said, his voice strained, "I'm just not sure if that makes it worse or better."

It was a confession, a fragility that Tav was hopeless to understand. These were new feelings, new circumstances. They had faced countless monsters, the most evil of enemies, nearly died so many times. But this cruelty seemed like a fate worse than death. For a man like Astarion, who was always so proud, so sure, witty, and funny... to be reduced to this. All to see the sun again, to bask in its light and warmth, and see the colors of the world in the brilliant daylight. Blessed to walk in the sun; cursed to never see it.

Tavriel leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his. Their breaths mingled in the short space between them. "We must go to camp," was all she could think to say, her heart and mind too overcome with grief.

Astarion heard her words, felt her breath on his cheek. Wordlessly, he nodded, and allowed himself to be helped to stand. She helped to steady him, her arm wrapped around his waist, her hand gripped by his. With careful steps, they pushed off the bank of the river, and slowly made their way back to their camp.

The cave was hidden amidst the craggy rock face that surrounded the Valley of the Clouds, up a short walk from the rushing waters they had miraculously crossed. The sounds of the steady rush of water faded behind them with each stumbled step forward. Astarion and Tavriel arrived, weary but still holding onto each other, her hand tightly gripped by his. The sunlight caressed the valley, and shone into the cave, revealing a space surprisingly dry and welcoming.

Tavriel sighed in relief and helped Astarion sit against the cave wall. Relief flooded him, and he sank down to the ground as she busied herself with their limited supplies, starting a small fire for warmth. Astarion leaned his head against the rock wall, tiredly turning his face towards it. Tav caught glimpses of him, the soft light of the flames flickered over Astarion's face, casting his crimson eyes in fluctuating shades. He felt Tav come beside him, dropping to his level, and touched his shoulder.

"Do you feel the warmth of the fire?" she finally asked, her voice hushed.

"I do," he answered quietly, "It's strange, isn't it? Able to feel the warmth but–" He didn't dare finish the sentence. It was all still too fresh. Instead, he just said, "Thank you."

Tav sat beside him, letting their shoulders touch so he could feel her weight against him, for whatever comfort that could bring him. She hoped it did. For a moment, however, they simply sat in silence, the weight of their circumstance being a heavy toll that they both felt.

"Astarion," said Tav, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence, "What does this mean for us? For you?" She gazed up at his face – that handsome face now steeped in pain and regret – and her tears began to fall silently. She was glad, then, that he couldn't see her cry. Though surely, he could hear it by the thickness of her voice, the clenching of her throat.