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It’s early evening by the time you find yourself in front of the heavy ornate door that is almost twice as tall as you, leading into the opulent hall that holds tonight’s soiree. Behind you, a thick blanket of stratus clouds stretches across the dim sky of Baldur’s Gate, flickering lights and the loud hum of the Lower City trembling in the balmy air.
It has been so long since you have last set foot in the city you and your friends helped save from the conspiracy of a... a giant, floating brain. You feel somewhat nostalgic as you wander around the bustling streets that show almost no signs of destruction after decades of recovery and resiliency, and absolutely embarrassed when you see the group of statues of your merry little band standing right next to the statue of Balduran. Thankfully, your statue bears so little resemblance to its subject that no one is able to recognize you by it.
The handsome elf guarding the entrance is clearly no exception.
“May I take a look at your invitation, Madam?” His glowing red eyes are cold and condescending despite his polite tone.
You lay out the well-rehearsed story about being the newest member of the band that will perform tonight and called to join in at the last minute, even showing him your lute to make it more believable.
“Then I suggest you hurry and start to make preparations now. The soiree is about to begin in half an hour. Lord and Lady Ancunín don’t like to be kept waiting.” The elf steps aside and urges you to go inside.
Lord and Lady Ancunín.
You silently chastise your traitorous heart for the uncontrollable clench upon hearing these words.
The Crimson Palace is just what you expect it to look like after being away for no less than fifty years. A nagging sense of familiarity lingers in the candlelight and the sweetness of incense, but you can’t quite remember looking out from those large picture windows on both sides of the hall when you lived here, or whether the antique chandelier dangling from the ceiling is still the one Astarion insisted on purchasing as the first step of renovations. Did he also change the wallpaper? Where’s the piano by the marble fireplace?
A thousand more details elude you. But one thing you do vividly remember is how you left things with Astarion before you stormed out of the place that you once called home. Or rather, prison. In those last days, arguments and tears became a fact of your life after Astarion exhausted every possible way to try to make you his immortal consort. After rounds and rounds of tempting, pleading and manipulating, he didn’t know how to be with you and you were not sure why the two of you stayed together anymore. One night, a night as normal as any other night you’ve ever lived, you slid the glass door open to the balcony to look at the stars, a brisk wind gently picking up the ends of your hair; an open road leading out of Baldur’s Gate looming on the horizon, illuminated by moonlight and flecks of street lamps.
“It’s not working. This. Us.” Your voice shook as Astarion wrapped his arms around you from behind and rested his head on your shoulder. “I can’t live like this. I need to leave.”
You remember the way his body tensed. You remember him scowling, pacing around your bedroom like a wild beast, growling that leaving him would your greatest regret for the rest of your life. You remember him becoming quieter and quieter as you packed your things, his face contorted with pain and fear as you took one last look at him and told him you were sorry.
You remember feeling death growing inside you with every step you took away from him. The wound from tearing off the other half of your soul would never heal.
Then why in the Nine Hells did you decide to come back here after all this time, and worse, to invite yourself to a party thrown by your ex-lover and his wife?
What do you even think is going to happen?
You snap out of your thoughts just in time when a young waitress approaches you with a tray of drinks in her hands. A night of luxury and indulgence unfolds around you; fine wines and fancy desserts are being served, richly dressed patriars and prominent merchants gather in small groups, discussing whatever they are discussing in a barely audible voice. You grab a glass of dark red liquor and drink it at a gulp, feeling the oaky, spicy flavor of barrel-aged Callidyrran slowly flow down your gullet.
You are absolutely unprepared to see Astarion again.
You know how in those romantic dramas, when the protagonist finally reunites with their long lost love, the music will rise to a crescendo and the star-crossed lovers will hug and kiss each other in the spotlight?
Turns out, there’s theatre and there’s reality.
There’s no spark in the air. The entire world doesn’t go still, and there’s no halo of golden light surrounding the both of you, no intense gaze exchanged. You don’t even like the old Baldurian melody the band is playing.
You just stand there, your eyes move across the crowd and find those glittering silver curls with hardly any effort. And you easily remember everything as if no amount of time has passed. The way he spends an hour brushing his hair every morning. The ripples of his muscles under his elaborate attire. The crinkles dancing around his crimson eyes when he laughs out of genuine happiness. The euphoria that feels stronger than anything else you’ve ever experienced in your entire life when the two of you reach your mutual climax in each other’s arms.
He’s talking to a woman. Porcelain skin accentuates her exquisite features, making her look almost ethereal, light blonde hair braided impeccably into a graceful chignon; the emerald open back silk dress doing very little to cover her perfect body with a plunge front design. Even without her pallid complexion and ruby eyes, you can easily tell she is no other than the mistress of the house, Lady Ancunín herself. She is probably the one of the most beautiful creatures - well, besides Astarion, of course - you’ve ever laid eyes on.
You watch Astarion put an arm around her waist, smiling fondly as she leans in and whispers into his ear. A cold wave of numbness washes over you. It’s like being trapped in a very small glass box and there’s nothing you can do but watch things happen in front of you.
Aeterna Amantes.
You imagine him kissing the words into her neck when he bit her. When he promised her eternity and made her his bride.
Lovers forever. Until the world falls down.
And you remember him describing the life he wanted to have with you. Desperately and hopefully.
Maybe you should leave now. Whatever it is that drives you to put yourself in this situation has run its course. You are just feeling nostalgic and want to see his face again, even just from afar, before going back to the life you choose for yourself. You want to know he’s doing fine, living the best version of his life without you. That’s all. And you also want to get another drink.
You crane your neck to look for the cute waitress serving drinks in the crowd. But instead of her chestnut wavy hair, you find those silver curls again. And the man wearing them. And his crimson, predatory eyes.
You blink a few times before realization dawns on you. He’s staring at you. You are staring at each other.
You watch his eyes go wide. He also blinks a few times, all sorts of complicated emotions you can’t begin to comprehend flashing across his face as he comes to realize you are not an illusion, and that you are not going to disappear into thin air no matter how many times he closes his eyes and opens them again.
Slowly, he starts to walk towards you.
Every thought, every sense and every bit of your strength is drained from your body. You are unable to move or turn away, like a butterfly pinned on a wooden board.
“Hi.”
You finally manage to squeeze out one word when he stops a few paces in front of you.
Really. That’s all you have to say to someone you haven’t seen in half a century, who was, just so happens, the love of your life. Probably still is and always will be. And you call yourself a bard.
Astarion doesn’t seem to mind. His expression blank, his arm twitches involuntary as if he wanted to reach out and touch your face but then thought better of it. He steps closer and you can smell his perfume, a little too strong and too foreign for your liking, making your head dizzy.
For a while, neither of you say anything. A woman’s voice, soft but unemotional, cuts through the growing silence that starts to seem unnatural among the chattering crowd.
“I don’t believe we’ve met before.” Lady Ancunín walks up next to Astarion, addressing you directly before turning to her husband. “Are you not going to introduce us, my love?”
This is going to be so. Fucking. Awkward.
“We used to, eh,” You swallow hard, looking away from Astarion, “Travel together.”
An overly bright smile spreads over her face. She reaches out and shakes your hand, her delicate, cool fingers curling around yours. “How nice. I’ve always wanted to meet the other heroes who saved Baldur’s Gate. Shame, we don’t get many visits from his old friends.”
“Actually, I think it’s time for me to leave --”
“It seems we’ll have a lot of catching up to do.” Astarion speaks above your quite voice. You are startled to feel him suddenly grab you by your arm, instinctively trying to pull away, but his grip firmly holds you where you are.
“May I suggest that your friend stay in our guest room for the night? We can show her around the place and talk properly tomorrow. For now I’m afraid there are some special guests that require your attention. We need to speak with them about some important matters --”
“And I’m sure you are more than capable to deal with them by yourself, my dearest consort.” Astarion waves his other hand casually, plants a small kiss on her cheek and drags you away in one fluid motion, leaving no room for further discussion.
To your surprise, he doesn't take you to another lavishly decorated room, but to a lush and well-tended garden just outside the west side of the palace. It's quiet out here and the open sky feels tremendously refreshing. Illuminated only by lights in the main hall shining through the window, the color of flowers appears dull in the shadow of the night, creating a unique sense of serenity.
It's just the two of you now.
That's when you realize Astarion is still holding your hand and standing inappropriately close to you. Without the interference of scented candles and layers of body odors, you are finally able to recognize the faint but familiar scent of bergamot, rosemary and brandy masked by his perfume, slowly seeping into the air around you, tender as the embrace of a lover. Well, ex-lover.
“I like what you did with this place.” You speak barely above a whisper, subtly pulling away from his grasp and putting some distance between you. The narrow cobblestone path under your feet winding through the courtyard seems to lead to another part of the palace that you can’t remember the inside of.
“We are going to exchange pleasantries now?” Astarion raises an eyebrow.
“It’s called ‘catching up’. And I mean it.”
Astarion has a strange look on his face that you don’t know the meaning of or why it’s there. The stretching silence leaves a bitter taste in your mouth as you recall how you two used to annoy all of your travelling companions with endless banter and jokes no one else would find funny. You would write poems about his dangerous smile and he would pretend to hate them. Fantasize about what other people’s blood tastes like. He would skim through every book you picked up on your journey and challenge you to tell a more stupid story than the one he just read.
You used to have so many things to talk about. You used to tell each other everything.
“You look beautiful.” His voice brings you back to the present. His scrutinizing gaze trails across your body and comes to rest on your face. “And I especially love the new scar you got on your nose.”
A tingling sensation spreads all over your bare skin at his words. You fidget with your dress, a navy satin gown with simple design that you got from the Facemaker’s Boutique before rushing here (Figaro looked truly offended when you offered to pay), the other hand reaching up to touch your own face. Your skin feels rough.
“Yeah, that,” You murmur. “Turns out you should never underestimate your opponent. Even if it’s a squirrel. Feisty little creatures, they are.”
“You got into a fight with a squirrel?”
“Not exactly a fight. She said my new song sucks and I told her to fuck off. Then she just jumped on my face --”
Astarion lets out a light chuckle in the back of his throat. He looks at you with a gentleness in his eyes, one you haven’t seen much since his ascension, and shakes his head ever so slightly.
At least you can still make him laugh.
You couldn’t help but drink in the sight of him. Look at him closely and carefully for the first time since you walked into his palace tonight. He's every bit as beautiful as the day you first laid eyes on him. Back when the sun seemed to shine brighter and life was full of so much more possibilities.
“What?” He pauses. “Is there something on my face?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Let’s take a walk and start doing the ‘catching up’ stuff, then.” Astarion sighs, offering his arm for you to take. “We -- no, you are not getting any younger standing here like some fool.”
You hesitantly place your hand in the crook of his elbow and let him lead the way. The two of you wander along the pebbled walkway at a pace so slow that you doubt anyone would call it “walking”. You tell him about your adventures and misadventures. He nods while he listens and throws in some snide comments about your life choices occasionally. He explains his plan for further renovations of his palace and you try very hard to stay interested. Every now and then, a cluster of swaying blooms brushes against your calf.
After a few more innocuous questions, you casually ask about Lady Ancunín. His wife.
Astarion stops in his tracks. “Why do you ask?”
The atmosphere has changed. You feel it in the night breeze. The pretense of two old friends having a light-hearted, pleasant and harmless conversation after years of separation quickly dissipates into thin air, revealing something more heavy and tense underneath.
“She seems lovely, is all.” You try to keep your tone light, regretting asking the question in the first place. You are going to ruin everything. “I just thought you might want to tell me about her. I’m sorry if makes you uncomfortable. You don’t have to say anything -- actually, what were you saying about your meeting with the council?”
Astarion pays no mind to your clumsy attempt to change the topic. He drops your hand and takes a few steps forward, staring ahead into the darkness. Behind some walls not far away, the party continues, the muffled sounds of clinking glasses and instrumental music suddenly echoing louder than moments ago.
"Why are you here?" When he turns to face you again, he almost looks sad. "Why come back now? After all these years, after I--"
He stops mid-sentence. As if finishing it would cause him unimaginable pain.
"What, can't a girl just go back to the city she saved and visit her best friends? " You say half-jokingly, still clinging to the faint possibility of steering the conversation back to a friendly one.
You fail miserably because Astarion doesn’t seem amused at all. Sometimes it can be really annoying that he knows you so well. Too well and too perceptive that your natural talent for deception and smooth talk usually doesn’t work like it should when he sets his mind to get an honest answer from you.
You swallow hard, a thickness forming in your throat as you force the truth - part of the truth - out of yourself.
"I wanted to see you. " I miss you. "I wanted to know... that you're living a very good life. " Even if I’m not in it.
"So you just came bursting in my party without so much as informing me? What if I don't want to see you? "
You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, trying to keep your voice steady. You can’t tell if he’s being serious. If he really loathes seeing you again this much. And you never want to find out. "I never meant it for you to notice me. My plan was to sneak in, stay a bit and maybe have some fun by myself, and then sneak back out before anyone finds out I'm not supposed to be there. "
Astarion lets out a short laugh that doesn't reach his cold eyes.
"You really think that's possible? That I wouldn't sense your presence when you were so close to me? That I could ever forget the rhythm of your heartbeat or how you smell? "
"I wouldn't know, would I? " Perhaps it’s the way his words sting. Perhaps something deep within your soul, something you’ve been struggling to suppress finally breaks free. The words come out harsher and more bitter than you intend them to be and you hate it. "It seems to me that you have better things to do than reminiscence about old times."
Astarion freezes. Then you can see a deep anger rises within him.
"No, no, no. You don't get to be like that. You have no right. "
He strides over to you, grabbing both of your arms so tight that it starts to hurt. He brings his face merely inches away from you, the heat of his breath and the intensity of his gaze almost burning your skin. In that fleeting moment, you think - almost hope - that he's going to kiss you.
"You don't get to walk out on me, never once reach out to me, cut me off completely like I'm nothing to you, then suddenly show up at my door after fifty goddamned years and accuse me for how I manage to move on with my life. "
He lets go of you but doesn’t stand back. He breathes heavily, his chest heaving rapidly under his immaculately tailored obsidian doublet. Like an animal cornered. Disturbed.
Wounded.
“And you know what? You are right about one thing. I don’t look back on our days together. I don’t think of you when I have my lovely consort with me. You want to know about her? I’ll tell you about her. She’s nothing like you. She doesn’t sing those insufferable songs of yours all day. She doesn’t smell of mud and cheap taverns. She doesn’t make silly jokes and puns when I’m trying to have a serious conversation with the nobles. She is beautiful, elegant and supportive, the embodiment of all the good qualities of a Vampire Ascendant’s right hand. She’ll spend an eternity by my side and never once remind me of you.”
You rub your arms, feeling your eyes prickling with tears at the corner, which has nothing to do with muscle soreness. You know you are being unreasonable. You are the one that left. And you never expected him - or anyone - to be the kind that would be hung up on their old flames from fifty years ago.
But... still.
Hearing him say that he's managed to find another eternal lover and move on with his life so easily. Picturing him with the beautiful elf woman you saw at the soiree, whispering all of his cheesy, flippant - and a bit silly - honeyed words to her and making her laugh. His hands roaming over her body. The pattern of the curtains hanging in their bedroom. Every smile, every kiss, every memorable and every unmemorable moment they share with each other.
Does he still have nightmares in his trances, and is she now the one to be there and help him through the worst ones?
“Ok.” Remember to breathe. Don’t start crying. The physical pain you are feeling right now is not real. It’s just your heart being torn apart once again because you just have to come back here and have everything spelled out for you. And please don’t squeak. “I get it.”
You step away from him, your eyes fixed on some distant plants that you don’t recognize. You need to be away. As far away as possible. The proximity is becoming more and more overwhelming with every moment. “I’m glad that we make things clear. I guess it’s best that I leave now. Like I said before. And you can return to your party and attend to your guests.”
“Of course you are leaving. That’s what you do. That’s your ‘thing’, isn’t it?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” The accusation catches you completely off guard. You turn your head to see Astarion drag his feet towards a hardwood platform that is built a few inches off the ground with a set of teak sofas and a marble coffee table.
He sits down on the edge of the deck and sticks one hand in his neat silver hair, ruffling it a bit. You meet his eyes again and find no fury, no grievance nor sorrow. Only deep exhaustion.
“I was trying, you know, with you. In the only way I can try.” A wry smile lifts a corner of his lips. “Everything I did, every future I envisioned, it was about us. For us to be together. Forever. I really thought that was also what you wanted.”
“It was.” You walk up and sit down next to him. You don’t know why he’s talking about it now or what he’s getting at, but the sincerity and vulnerability in his voice makes it feel like the worst kind of betrayal to be anything but honest about your feelings.
Astarion snorts mockingly.
“It was.” You insist, looking down at your hands, not sure if you should put one on his broad shoulder. “We just… had different opinions about ‘forever’.”
You were ready to give him everything. Your love, your heart, your soul, your devotion, the rest of your life. Turned out that was never enough for him.
“You could’ve talked to me. We could’ve work things out together. But no, you just packed your things and walked out of our door and never returned --”
“We talked, Astarion. More times than I can count. It was practically all we did. Talking, arguing, and some yelling. I’m pretty sure we’ve made it crystal clear that we wanted different things by the time I decided to leave.”
“What was it that you wanted, then? You never told me about it. And if you never told me about it, how was I supposed to be the person you wanted me to be? How was I supposed to give you what you truly desired?”
You feel your body rigid with an awful ache in your chest. You did talk about this, once. In a very different situation. The warm lights, the aroma of booze and grilled fish and the loud chatter at the Elfsong Tavern feels like a lifetime ago. You and Astarion lay awake on the bed, staring up at the low ceiling of your shared room. You asked him what he planned on doing after the ordeal of the Absolute.
“Haven’t thought that far yet.” He sighed, one arm tucked under his head. “There’s not much of a future for me as long as Cazador lives. You?”
“First of all, we will mutilate, decapitate and incinerate that piece of shit as soon as possible. That’s top of the list. I promise, Astarion.”
“And then? After we kill Cazador, after we get the tadpoles out of our brains, what do you want to do?” His voice was tinged with some unusual eagerness.
“To be honest, I haven’t given it a proper thought, either.” You said absent-mindedly. “Travel around the world, I guess. See everything, go to new places and meet new people. Write a song about our adventures and make sure every living soul in Faerûn will hear about it.”
“Sounds exciting.” His tone, however, suggested otherwise. You didn’t need to look at him to know that he was pouting.
You turned and lay on your side, raising yourself on your elbow and gazing upon his profile playfully. “What’s wrong? You don’t want to come with me?”
The utterly surprised expression on his angelic face was definitely something to remember.
“You… Really? You’ll take me with you? You still want to be with me when it’s all over?” He stuttered in disbelief.
“Only if you start to learn some musical instruments now. You’ll need to accompany me when I perform, you know.”
He tried his best to look scandalized, but the glimmer of happiness in his eyes already gave him away. You nestled closer to him and he wrapped one arm around you. You remember resting your head against his chest and feeling it reverberate with laughter. You remember thinking you wouldn’t survive spending a single day apart from him.
That was so many years ago.
“I want to experience the world instead of ruling it. I want to sleep in a thousand cheap hotels instead of the same four-poster bed every night. And I wanted to do it with you. As your partner.”
You wipe your face quickly, your palm wet with cool tears that you don’t even realize they were there.
“Why didn’t you say anything when I asked you to move into the Crimson Palace with me?! There were so many times you could’ve just tell me --”
“Because that wasn’t what you wanted. Not anymore. All you talked about was creating an army of spawn and taking over Baldur’s Gate. There was no room for anything else but your great ambition. And after everything, the last thing I wanted was to force my wishes onto you –”
“Gods, you just don’t get it, do you?” Astarion lets out a long and deep sigh. He pinches the bridges of his nose and laughs with a mixture of tiredness and exasperation. “Darling, there was a time when all I ever wanted was you. I wanted to rebuild the palace and create an army of spawn with you. I wanted to bring the world to its knees with you by my side. I may have powers, but they were nothing without you.”
You remember the way your heart fluttered the first time you heard him saying these words because they made you feel like the most special person in the entire world. The way your heart squeezed every time he said them during your countless arguments where he would insist he wanted nothing more than an eternity with you and you would tell him you are not the slightest bit interested in eternity.
And now, you can think of nothing but the cold truth sitting on the tip of your tongue.
“It’s what you thought.” You said quietly. “But you are doing well without me.”
Astarion rises from where he sits abruptly. A gush of cool wind sweeps through the emptiness he leaves behind, making you shudder slightly. He pauses for a moment before he turns around and looks at you properly. The rare tenderness in his eyes and his soft but melancholic expression stirs an uneasy, almost terrifying feeling within you, gnawing at the bottom of your stomach.
You know he’s going to tell you something that neither of you can come back from.
“I tried to find you, you know? I spent years looking for you everywhere. Decades. I wasn’t doing well. I wasn’t doing anything other than sending out my spies over and over again, holding onto every rumor and gossip they gathered for me and rushing to the next city even if there was only the smallest hope that you might be there. I couldn’t start my new life because it felt so wrong without you.”
His gaze locks with yours, crimson eyes brimming with painful longing. “And eventually, I did find you. In Silverymoon. The moment I walked into the city, I knew you would love the place. You were in a small tavern, playing to some patrons at their table. I stayed for a while and heard you sing about a group of ragtag heroes who bravely slayed a hideous, pustule-ridden hag and helped a poor woman reunite with her zombie husband. I guess you did fulfill your dream of writing ballads about our little adventures.”
You shiver convulsively, all the blood in your body running cold as if you were thrown into a vast ice field. It’s not that he found you. It’s not that you don’t want him to. It’s because you still remember that day after ten years and never once realize how close it was to change your entire life.
“You were there?” You whisper shakily.
“I was. And I’ll never forget how happy you looked that day.” He reaches out a hand and cradles the side of your face, tracing your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb so gently that you almost flinch.
“At first, it took all of my very limited self-control not to lunge forward and rip out every drunken bastard’s throat for the way they looked at you. The audacity to think they can put their filthy hands on you. It went against my very nature and every instinct in my body not to snatch you away, lock you up in the deep of my palace and never let you out of my sight again. But then I saw your face. You were beaming. Everyone was laughing at your jokes. That’s when I realized you were never this happy with me.”
“That’s not how it was.” The tremor in your voice matches his. You tentatively touch his hand on your face and take it in your own hands, feeling his skin smooth and warm against yours. You feel like you can hold his hand like this forever.
“Well, that’s how I remember it.” A bitter smile creeps into his face as he continues. “You weren’t happy when I finally have the power to protect you and give you only the best things in the world. And certainly not when I was nothing but a pathetic, useless spawn who could never be the lover you deserve. With all the trauma and nightmares. I could see how much it weighed on you. How you always had to fear for me, worry about me and feel sorry for me. I used to think that if I ascend - after I ascended – you wouldn’t be looking at me with such sad eyes anymore.”
You never realize that’s how he sees things. About your relationship, about his ascension. You want to tell him how wrong he is. Tell him the simple truth about you.
That being happy – or looking happy – is the easiest thing in the world. A cheerful little song, a few bottles of wine and some good company with interesting stories to share around is all it takes for you to lose yourself in the sweet, blissful oblivion, free of the burden of your own existence. You can be what everyone else expect you to be - the charming, delightful bard, the fearless leader of your group of misfits and the savior of Baldur’s Gate. Just not yourself. Not the person who actually has no idea what to do with her own life or how to live and feel like normal people do.
But with Astarion, everything becomes so real and seems to be tenfold intensified. The pain when you first realized you fell in love with him, your heart thumping so achingly hard that you wanted to cry whenever you looked at him. The rage when he told you about Cazador and there was just no way you could go back in time to protect him, to hold him in your arms and drive the terror away. The dreadful feeling of grief every time you return to your quiet and lonely room filled with books and empty wine bottles, knowing that you wouldn’t see him there. You wouldn’t see his face when you woke up in the morning. You wouldn’t hear his voice anymore. You missed his voice.
“I understood something that day.” That voice now rings through the night like the crashing waves of the ocean. “The gravest crimes committed in this world are committed for love. A hunger crueller than Bloodlust. If we had stayed together, I would have ruined your love, used your trust until you were nothing.”
You tilt your head and look up at him, listening to the soft sound of the wind slightly tousling his hair and your heart beating relentlessly in your chest. For him.
“So I made a decision. To do one last thing for you. I decided to let you go. I let you live your life.”
You want to tell him what you remember of that fateful day. You were scheduled to give another short performance around midnight but didn’t even get the chance to step onto the stage. A meteor shower decided to reach its peak later that night and everyone in the tavern scrambled out of the door to enjoy the generous display of cosmic wonders. You followed suit, looking up to watch hundreds of bright shooting stars streaking across the dark black of the sky, leaving long trails of glowing particles in its wake. It was so beautiful that you almost forgot how to breathe. You cried in the starlight because you really, really wanted to tell Astarion how beautiful it was.
You really, really hoped that he was there with you.
You would give anything. You would give up your own life and agree to be his spawn there and then just so that you could feel his arms around you again.
You wonder what he was doing at that exact moment. What he was thinking when he turned away from the crowd and from you. What was the first thing that came to his mind when he started to picture a life that you would no longer be a part of.
“I guess that was also when you decided to… move on with your own life?” You finally say. You let go of his hand to gesture around the place, trying not to notice the flicker of disappointment flashing across his face.
“After another few years, yes.” He gives you a long look. “I married the daughter of a noble family that sought to extend their power with the help of my massive underground network, and I could use their family connections to get into the inner circle of the Counsil. Also, their daughter really wants to stay beautiful forever.”
“Is she nice? To you?”
The expression on Astarion’s face is a mixture of incredulity and amusement. “Darling, I’m the most powerful vampire to ever walk the earth. If you are to worry about anyone’s wellbeing – which you need not to, of course – it should be hers.”
You can’t help but let out a small chuckle. This is another thing that is achingly nostalgic. Laughing with Astarion. Laughing at something he said. But it also takes away a tiny piece of pain because at least you can still do this. After so many years, after everything that has happened, you still have this.
That’s so much more than you could ever expect when you came here tonight.
Silence falls between you once again. You can feel Astarion’s gaze fixate on you as you develop a sudden interest in the blue wild flowers growing at your feet, unasked questions still hanging in the air. What happens now? Where do we go from here? What does all this mean? You know he’ll want to ask. And you won’t have anything to tell him.
You feel almost grateful when a servant boy approach you timidly. And beside it, an itchy sense of annoyance because it drags you back to the reality where you and Astarion are not the only two people in the world. Where you are nothing more than just an old friend who drops in at his party and is expected to be gone at the end of the day.
“My… My lord, the Lady wishes to know whether you’ll be joining her in the bedroom anytime soon.” The boy bows his head before Astarion while stealing glances at you nervously. “And… And she instructed me to bring your friend here to the guestroom and see to it that she settles in well –”
“You are not taking her anywhere.” Astarion cuts him off harshly and changes his entire demeanor immediately to the formidable vampire lord that he is.
The boy stutters, his body shaking visibly. “But the Lady said…”
“I know what she said. Tell her I’ll be there. Now leave us.”
You shuffle your feet a bit uncomfortably as the servant turns around to leave and soon becomes out of sight. You know Astarion has a temper and you saw his outbursts before. They were raw and primal, coming from the crippling fear and overwhelming rage he constantly felt. But what you’ve just witnessed feels like a performance. A mask he has to put on because that’s what a vampire lord supposed to look like. And watching it happen feels like adding a little more distance between the two of you.
“I kept your room, you know.” Astarion’s face softens when he looks back at you. “Not that I was expecting you to come back one day. I just… don’t want to change it.”
“Astarion –”
“You can stay there for the night if you want, is all I’m saying.”
“Thanks, but I already rented a room at the Elfsong. They have this stupid No Refund policy.” You force a playful grin.
To your surprise, Astarion doesn’t argue further. He seems to be lost in deep thought, which makes the way back eerily quiet. With each step you take, the garden grows smaller and smaller. All too soon, you recognize the door you walked through earlier tonight. You slow your pace down, watching as Astarion walks a few steps ahead of you and reaches for the door. Your mouth feels dry.
“Ask me. Ask me now.” He stops before pulling it open, the faint glow spilling out from nearby windows limning his silhouette.
“Ask you what?”
“Ask me to go with you.”
“What?”
“Do what you should have done fifty years ago. Ask me to leave this place with you. Travel around the world, go on another adventure, whatever. Anything.”
“You are asking me to ask you to run away with me like we are in a corny romance novel?”
The laughter in your voice quickly fades away when he turns around and you see the look on his face. He’s being more serious than you ever know him to be.
“You are not joking.”
“Most certainly not.”
“You can’t just leave everything behind.”
“Why not? I’m the Vampire Ascendant. I can do whatever I please.”
“You’ve built a good life for yourself here, Astarion. You have a grand palace, a loving wife and a place in the parliament. You have great power and wealth. You don’t want to throw it all away.” You try to explain it to him like explaining that one plus one equals two to a toddler.
“But I want you.” His lips quiver. “I don’t feel free. I don’t feel anything here. I want to feel it again. With you.”
His words knock all the air out of your lungs. The hopeless dream that has haunted you over the past years is now reflected in his crimson eyes, glittering in the dark like a small fire. Drawing you to it like drawing a moth to a flame.
A second chance. For the both of you. Are you better and more prepared for a life together now than you were fifty years ago? Is this going to be your “happily ever after”?
“You think you want me now. And there were moments when I thought my greatest mistake was leaving you. I would do anything, give anything to be yours again.” You say after a long and painful silence. “But there were also moments when I was glad I made that choice because I would choose a broken heart over a dead one anytime.”
You can see something within him break.
“In this moment, seeing each other again after fifty years and talking so much about our feelings, you feel like you can give up anything for me. I wish I could trade the rest of my life for this moment to last a little longer. But the moment will pass, and there will come a morning when you wake up in the dirt instead of your luxurious bed, and you turn your head to see my wrinkled face instead of your eternally beautiful bride. That’s when you’ll be reminded of how much you’ve given up for me.”
“Why do you have to assume the worst? You don’t even want to think there’s a possibility that things might work out for us. You never did. Why?” He raises his voice involuntarily.
Because I love you. And I need to let you go.
“Because nothing’s changed. What you expect of me, and what my answers will be. I'm still a half-elf with a very limited lifespan. and you'll still want to fix that. But we also both change. We've spent so many years apart from each other and built our own lives. We are not the same as when we first met and fell in love anymore. It's just... I'm just not worth the trouble.”
Or is somewhere deep inside, a selfish part of you is secretly hoping that he'll tell you otherwise?
"If you walk out of here without me this time, then it's truly over." He pleads with such despair and sadness that it somehow materializes into the enormous pain in your every bone. "I won't miss you. I will forget about you. I will forget your face, your smile and eventually your existence in my life. I don't ever want to see you again. Because it's too painful. I can't do it again."
You stare into his eyes in earnest. You know you will always see them in your best and worst dreams and it's all you'll have from today on till the end of all days. Might as well get the details right. The air burns in your lungs.
"Goodbye, Astarion."
The first rays of morning light peek over the horizon when you approach Wyrm's Crossing, casting a thin orange glow on buildings, roadside stalls and travelers with bags and trunks in all sizes. Some of them are leaving Baldur's Gate like you, but more are moving in the opposite direction. They are all going somewhere, running to someone. Unlike you.
The sun slowly rises higher in the deep and blue sky, alternating patches of light and shade dancing across an open field of walls and rooftops. A rough night in the Blushing Mermaid leaves a throbbing pain searing through your head. The bustling noise and flying dust makes it even worse, but it's not an unwelcome distraction from the ever growing, horrible void at the bottom of your heart that no one or nothing will ever be able to fill.
How long will it take before it becomes bearable this time?
You are about to scowl at a trinket vendor for shouting too loud when you catch a glimpse of silver out of the corner of your eye.
All the alcohol you have consumed last night must have screwed up your brain real bad because you are surely hallucinating. Surely, that’s the only reason you would see Astarion standing in the sun, shining brighter than its golden light and looking at you from across the street. You feel like collapsing on the ground and fleeing to the opposite direction at the same time but you can’t even move a muscle. Completely, helplessly trapped in his gaze.
"Hello, darling." He walks over, stands facing you and grins casually, as if it were just another day of your adventures.
You can't do anything but keep staring at him. Staring so hard that a blast of grim sunlight starts to hurt your eyes and you feel them become watery.
"Good morning, Astarion. I'm so glad to see you. You truly are the most dashing and glamorous man I’ve ever known."
He does an intentionally poor imitation of you with an overly dramatic tone, his body swaying ever so slightly and leaning closer and closer to you in the process until he looms over you. You notice he’s not wearing any of his fine clothes, but something more suitable for the road. If it weren’t for the fact that there isn’t any tadpole squirming in your brain right now, you could almost believe you’ve gone back to the day when you first found the pale rogue on a ravaged beach.
“What are you doing here?” Your voice comes out strange because your heart is beating wildly in your throat.
“Oh, nothing. It just occurred to me last night that I don’t need your permission to do anything. So I decided to head out on the road and find some adventures for myself. You are welcome to join me, if you like.”
“Why would you do that? You don’t even like travelling –”
“No, you know what I actually don’t like? Listening to politicians talking bullshit, putting on a smiling face and pretending like they don’t make me gag. Going to cookie-cutter meetings, parties and galas. They were nothing but flattery, sycophancy and mediocrity. Can you imagine living like that until the end of time?” He wrinkles his nose, which you always find annoyingly adorable. But you never got the chance to tell him that, and you don't think he would appreciate being called "cute" as a vampire lord. "I might be immortal, but the boredom is certainly killing me. And above all --"
He places his hands on both sides of your neck and his face becomes serious.
"I choose you. I choose a single moment with you over any kind of life if you are not in it."
You shut your eyes and bite your lip, so hard that you almost taste blood in your mouth. If this is another one your drunk dream, you need to snap out of it now. Because the longer you linger, the more real it becomes. And waking up from it will crush you.
Then you feel Astarion take one hand of yours and guide it to press on his chest. You feel the warmth and the rhythmic, steady beat of his heart. You know it's not a dream when you look at him again. Because the splendor of his crimson eyes surpasses any false images your mind can possibly conjure.
“You gave me this. You gave me life. I never feel more alive than when I’m with you. I can’t go back to settling for anything less. I thought I could. I tried. But… no one is like you. No one is you. I guess it’s like what they say, a heart wants what it wants.”
“And what if I break it again?” Hot tears streaming down your cheeks uncontrollably, you wipe them off ungracefully with the back of your free hand. You must look like a complete mess right now. “If I… when I die. You will be alone forever.”
The effect of your words and the inevitable future it depicts on him is immediate. His grip tightens, pulling you closer without himself even realizing doing it. He looks at you as if you would drop dead the moment he blinks.
He swallows hard, the anguish in his beautiful eyes ebbing away slowly, replaced by a sad determination.
“I’ll be strong enough to take it.” He’ll never be strong enough to take it. “And either way, I choose a broken heart over a dead one.”
He cradles your face, his cool lips pressing softly against yours. His scent envelopes you entirely. Every color in the world blooms behind your closed eyelids. It makes you dizzy how one simple kiss can bestow a whole new world on you.
Your fingers are intertwined as you start to kiss him back. In this new world, you know you'll never be able to let go of his hand ever again.