Chapter Text
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“Wyll!”
Marin called out to her friend, who was standing at the front entrance beside an unfamiliar man. She crossed the marble floor to welcome him.
“I'm so glad you could come,” she fawned, moving in for a hug.
“It’s lovely to see you,” Wyll chuckled, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Safyra stayed home with an aching back. The kids have been putting us through our paces lately. They have me, and their governess, but all they want is their mother. She sends her regards.”
“What a shame,” Marin responded with a sympathetic smile. “Do let her know she was missed. Take her some dessert when you go, won't you? We’ll end up with enough food left over for a fortnight, I just know it.”
“Yes, of course.” He backed away, regarding her outfit. “What a staggering dress, my dear lady! You're radiant.”
“Wyll!” she scolded, giggling at his praise. She felt undeserving of the royal blue ball gown Astarion had purchased for her. “It’s far too fanciful. Honestly, I don't know how he talks me into this wretched opulence. I'll be blushing the entire night.”
He let out a hearty laugh, then looked at the man standing beside him.
“Oh, how rude of me,” Wyll blurted out. “This is Falwarith. He's a friend of mine from City Hall.”
“I’ve heard lovely things about you both from Wyll,” he said cheerfully, offering his hand with the palm facing up. His voice was full and warm, carrying the accent of a high-born Baldurian. “Fal, if you'd like.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” She extended her arm, resting her fingers atop his hand. “I’m Marin.”
“Charmed, my lady.”
He took her hand with a graceful bow of his head. She felt the warmth of his strong fingers and blushed at the reverent gesture. Falwarith was a deep-skinned human with long, neat locs accentuated by a few golden beads. Half of his hair was pulled up into an elegant topknot.
“Welcome to our home, Fal,” she chirped. Marin craned her head, searching for her partner. “Erm, Astarion is around here… somewhere. Oh! My apologies — do come in, now.”
They stepped away from the threshold, closer to the small groups of guests that were mingling.
“Food is across the hall, if you'd like,” Marin offered. “The drinks are in the sitting room. I think Karlach is in there.”
“I’ll get us something to drink, then,” Wyll told Falwarith, clapping his shoulder. He turned and winked at Marin. “Keep an eye on my plus-one, will you? Don't let him cause too much trouble.”
“Well, I'm not much of a host, I'm afraid,” she admitted with a nervous laugh as Wyll took his leave. “Astarion is more accustomed to these affairs. He's the charming one.”
“He must be a fearsome creature to behold,” Falwarith replied with a chuckle. “That is, if he's any more charming than you, my lady.”
She giggled again, feeling her blush deepen with his compliment. Gods, he's handsome.
Falwarith wore gold-framed glasses with a delicate chain hanging from the corners. His glowing complexion, coordinated accessories and fitted suit indicated that he was a meticulously kept man, much like Astarion. She noticed a hint of makeup, his full lips gleaming in the warm light. Just below was a piercing, the center of his lip marked by a pale blue gemstone set in gold.
Stop staring at his mouth, Marin. You look like a gods-damned fool.
Suddenly, a delicate, icy hand against her exposed back tore her from her thoughts. She jolted with surprise and burst into laughter.
“There you are, my treasure,” Astarion purred, nuzzling her cheek with an inappropriately salacious tone. He turned his head, and then his body, making a show of noticing their guest. “Ah, terribly sorry, darling. Lord Astarion Ancunín.”
He bowed like a peacock, causing Fal to reciprocate. Clearly, Astarion had noticed him before approaching. However, he delighted in making his lover blush, and took pride in their affectionate bond. Marin cleared her throat, trying to steady her nerves.
“My love, this is Falwarith,” she told him sweetly.
“Enchanted to meet you, my lord,” Fal responded with a warm smile. “Fal, if you'd like.”
Enchanted?
“What an interesting name for a human,” Astarion mused, his tone more curious than snarky. “Falwarith, hm? It sounds Elvish to my… pointy ear.”
“My mother is half Elven,” he explained. “It was her choice. A family name.”
“Astarion, don't pry,” Marin scolded, gripping his hand. “You'll scare off our new friend.”
“Quite all right, my lady,” Fal chuckled, smiling at Astarion as he responded to her. “I don't frighten easily.”
“How fortunate,” he replied cryptically, their eyes meeting for a little too long.
Astarion let out a small, contemplative hum before he turned to Marin. She spotted a nearly imperceptible blush highlighting his cheekbones. His foppish, self-confident mask quickly reappeared, but she was certain it had dropped for a moment.
“Well, I'm parched,” he announced, resuming his cool demeanor. “If you'll excuse me for a moment, darling.”
He slunk off in the direction of the sitting room. Falwarith watched with one eyebrow pricked while Astarion disappeared from view. Marin felt butterflies in her stomach as she put the pieces together.
He likes Astarion. Astarion likes him. And gods, is he handsome.
“So, tell me about yourself, Fal,” she chimed in, trying to bury her intentions in polite conversation. “Have you known Wyll for long? Are you married?”
“Wyll and I met on a shared project a couple years back,” he replied. “And I’m unmarried, my lady. I haven't found the right person.”
He didn't say ‘woman’ outright. A good sign.
“I’m, er, divorced,” she stated with a pained, awkward smile. “Astarion and I have been together for almost a year. Truthfully, I'm not much of a Baldurian lady, as I'm sure you can tell from my manner. I'm a druid. I was born in a pile of leaves, not a palace.”
Falwarith let out a bright chuckle at her joke, making her blush. His dark eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, his face showing the smallest signs of age.
“Your honesty is refreshing,” he told her. “Especially for one who helped save the city. If only every noblewoman were so humble.”
“Everyone calls me the lady of the house since I moved in,” she explained with a shy smile. “I suppose that's Astarion's doing, but it still feels strange coming from anyone but him. He's much more accustomed to this lifestyle.”
“Perfectly understandable,” he responded earnestly. “Aristocracy is a strange convention, and certainly much more so when you aren't raised in it.”
Do you like women? Men? Astarion?
“That's very gracious of you to say,” she replied.
“Brandywine, my good sir,” Wyll declared, interrupting their conversation to present a glass to Fal. “Sorry for the delay. Karlach caught me by the horn.”
Brandy? Astarion’s perfume has a note of brandy. Do you want to give him a sniff? Good one, Marin.
“That’s all right.” Falwarith smiled at Marin again, making her blush. “Your friends are lovely hosts.”
“Marin certainly is,” Wyll replied with a hearty laugh. “Astarion is quite the character. He does have fine taste, though. Old money, and… classic beauty.”
He gestured around the luxurious home as he spoke before his gaze landed on Marin.
“Wyll!” she exclaimed, trying to suppress a giggle. “Hush, now! You're hoping to embarrass me into hiding, talking like that.”
“Marin keeps him honest.” Wyll feigned a whisper to Fal with a hand on his shoulder. “She's his better half.”
“Mine?” came Astarion's drawl from behind Wyll, surprising all three of them. “I must agree, though. She is a rare treat.”
He took his place at Marin's side, handing a goblet to her and placing his hand at the small of her back.
“Astarion, old friend,” Wyll chuckled, taking his tricks in stride. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You, as well,” Astarion replied with a courteous nod.
“He has the lightest feet I've ever seen,” Wyll remarked to Fal. “Sneaky bastard saved all our hides more times than I can count.”
“‘Sneaky bastard’?” Astarion echoed with a mischievous grin. “There's no need for flattery, darling.”
Marin watched as his gaze drifted over to Falwarith, discreetly looking him up and down. That hungry spark in his eye. Astarion flicked his gaze back over to her with a loving smile and tightened his grip on her waist.
“Well then, my sweet. Shall we circulate? What would you prefer?”
“I suppose we should,” she snickered. “We are the hosts.”
“As you wish,” he responded. He turned back to Wyll and Fal with a courteous nod. “Do excuse us, gentlemen. Please enjoy yourselves.”
Marin saw Astarion's eyes linger on Falwarith for a moment longer before he swept her away.