The Quest for Dawn

Chapter 13: Games of Confidence

As the first leaves of autumn began to drift lazily from their branches, the room above the tavern bore witness to its own transformation. A new game was conceived. In addition to the lessons of lockpicking, every morning as promised, Tavriel began to devise new ways for Astarion to relearn how to pick pockets.

Safe within the walls of their little room at the Elfsong, she had Astarion stand before her – having to swipe his hands to keep them from wandering more than once – and the lesson began.

"I have tied a ribbon on my wrist. Steal it from me without me noticing."

"That's not quite fair, my darling. You're already aware of the game. Pickpocketing is an art of confidence and distraction."

"Distract me then," she challenged.

Astarion's grin was instant, his hand lifting to her face to guide him to her lips. He loved making her melt into him, as his other hand subtly glided along her slim wrist.

She hummed into the kiss, fully immersing herself in pleasure, until she pulled back and whispered against his lips, "Wrong wrist."

Only a few more tries, the ribbon would be found, and Astarion would hold it aloft.

The games continued over the next months of their life in their comfortable sanctuary. Astarion's strides had grown more confident, and the room became a quiet arena of their own making. Tav would busy herself with a variety of challenges for him; a handkerchief from the inner pocket of her skirts, a necklace she wore, pouches dangling from her belt. She would set herself to moving about the room, deliberately at first, and Astarion would shadow her.

He followed the subtle wisps of air as she passed him, detecting her lilac and jasmine with silent fervor. Coming to stand behind her, his hands would delicately move over her shoulders and glide along her neck. He had been deft before in unclasping a necklace, or twisting a tiny screw lock with one hand. This time, however, he found himself with a more subtle and consistent touch, letting it guide him to the weight of the piece he was lifting without signaling to its owner of its release.

Such closeness in this art was easily a seductive dance, which Astarion was also well acquainted with. Every item on her person was a mark, and he found himself enjoying the game – sometimes a little too much. The thief, aiming for a coin purse, plucked the ribbon of her bodice instead.

"A little lower, love," she told him while he held her tight with one arm.

"Is it?" he inquired with feigned innocence, his fingers advancing further along her bodice, deftly untying the laces as he leaned in to seek her neck with his lips.

Tav made a noise that could have been a complaint, were it not so full of pleasurable longing. "Are you going to seduce all your targets?" she asked breathlessly, instinctively extending her neck to his passions.

His laughter was a rich, warm sound in the coolness of their room. "If they're all as delightful as you, I might consider it," Astarion quipped, but then his tone softened, sincere. "Though none could ever compare."

Their exercises grew in complexity, with Tavriel fastening a coin inside a pouch, its drawstring knotted intricately. Astarion's fingers danced over the puzzle, teasing out the knots with a patience he had never known in his sighted life. Each successful attempt was met with a delighted laugh from Tavriel and an air of pride from Astarion.

On one midwinter day, as a deluge lashed the city and the windows clattered, Tav challenged her beloved to a new game. Astarion stood at the end of the room, with Tav facing him. The torrential downpour and stinging sleet drummed a distracting rhythm against the glass, with occasional cracks of thunder reverberating the foundations of the tavern. His head was tilted away from her, but she tried to set the new rules for him regardless. His focus must be stronger than the clamor of the world around him, she thought.