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➹collab: @aristenfromwarsaw & @bhaal-battle-beer-bard ➹pairing: Astarion x named Durges ➹cw/tags: fun&shenanigans, multiverse, friendship, bhaal sisters ➹summary: After the events of the game, Astarion and the redeemed Durge Aristen built a life together. But experimenting with her magic once again, she opens a portal to unimaginable chaos… ➹word count: 6,732 ➹ao3 ➹a/n: Dark Urge Aristen belongs to @aristenfromwarsaw Dark Urge Tiefling bard Saulus is my Durge VP all by @aristenfromwarsaw; also idea of the plot Made for the prompt "First Meeting" of the event: #BG3 OC x OC week of Lady Darkka and @lunalaplays on bluesky

The Portal Incident

Why a sorceress should not conjure portals

or “Because Gale is such good expert at conjuring portals!”

---

The faint crackle of magic wafted through the air, filling it thick and heavy, charging it electrically. Anyone with even a modicum of sensitivity for the weave could perceive this essence of creation from nothing.

The lab of Aristen, the sorceress and former Dark Urge chosen by Bhaal, practically radiated sparks of charging arcane energy.

"Astarion!", she cried excitedly, the chalk that had just been drawing a glyph falling from her hand, while the pulsating symbols before her slowly started to form a swirling portal.

Dripping skepticism in his voice showed the vampire, however, was less excited than the blonde high elf: "What is that?"

"I've managed to create a portal that can transport you not only within sight, but farther away to familiar places. This way, we can instantly go to any of our favorite spots in the city without having to leave a counter-marker there first."

Even as she spoke, the entire lab was bathed in the portal's flickering light, and it shifted the air completely.

“Gale was right: Sorceress should stick to wild nature magic and not conjuration.”

Astarion’s hands gripped his white curls as if holding onto an imaginary hat he wasn’t wearing, or perhaps simply to protect his perfect hairstyle from potential disruption by the portal, swirling too wild for his taste.

His voice held a slight crack of panic, which with Astarion usually manifested as graver and more pompous than subtle, even when he was trying to maintain some semblance of composure and peace for the sake of his Aristen.

“Since when do you agree with Gale?”, Aristen only half-turned away from her incantation, but enough so that Astarion couldn't miss the surprised, slightly pouty look and raised eyebrow she gave him as she murmured.

“Not otherwise — and woe betide you if you ever tell him — but in this case: yes,” the elf nodded resolutely.

“Any kind of damage to my figure of perfection is invaluable, my dear,” the gesture of his hand over his positioned hip was as unnecessary as it was powerfully graphic.

A soft giggle escaped her lips at the same time as her blue eyes rolled in her head. Aristen was glad of Astarion's incorrigibility, for it always made her laugh, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

“You see, and since I would never risk this, this should be proof enough for you of how secure my portal is.”

“Aristen, darling,” Astarion approached his love and lifted her chin between his thumb and forefinger, “I wish that meant something, promised something. But your statistics so far guarantee something quite different.”

“Your lack of faith disturbs me.” Aristen’s entire face, including her turquoise eyes, grinned along with her. Astarion, on the other hand, was completely baffled and confused by this statement, left with only a blank stare to share.

“What?!” he hissed. Before he could ask another question or correct her, Aristen’s hands formed a few final symbols, and suddenly the portal gained energy. Powerful, irresistible arcane energy of her magic, and Astarion could practically feel himself being pulled toward the swirling opening.

He would have resisted, but there was little resistance to the sorceress’ persuasive gaze and outstretched hand.

“Come on, just a short walk to the outskirts of the city and with this we can escape the jostling crowd.”

“Darling, the hustle and bustle of the crowd is the best part…all those full wallets…”

“Astarion…”

“Alright!” he conceded, “of course you’re the best part, and it’s truly wonderful to enjoy our time together without having to walk past all those beggars.”

He rushed to add immediately:

“So, let’s go!”, Astarion urged, only to preempt a lecture from Aristen about beggar children, which she had already begun to prepare for with a deep breath.

…

“See,” the blonde high elf grinned from ear to ear, “I told you it’s safe!”

She took a deep breath and looked around contentedly among the trees and flowers of the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate.

“Aristen, my darling, you’re supposed to be the magic expert, but since when does a portal journey take a considerable amount of time?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t recall it being completely dark when we passed through the portal.”

Instantly, the storm sorceress and former daughter of Bhaal rose her eyes to the…unmistakable night sky.

“And I certainly don’t recall the moon being in that phase and direction for this time of year in our Baldur’s Gate.”

"Oh oh..."

Astarion explained everything very calmly and in his nonchalant way, but the moment he began to explain that the moon didn't look as it should have tonight, Aristen immediately knew what was going on. Someone who had spent nearly 200 years orienting his life around the moon, whose course was vital for survival if it were to change with the dawn, knew exactly what was going on, and she trusted his knowledge completely.

But when Astarion also mentioned our Baldur's Gate, it really hit her hard.

"Well, it IS the right place, because everything is as usual, right? Maybe the portal had a slight time discrepancy?”, Aristen tried to escape Astarion's premonition of complete chaos through her experimental magic.

Unfortunately, the way portals worked led her to suspect otherwise, and she sheepishly admitted “…or perhaps opened a passage to a parallel dimension?”

The slight expression of apology rose into her blue eyes. Could it calm the olds vampire's grumpy wraith?

“Wait a moment..."

The glow of a camp fire, flickering through the bushes, caught Aristen’s attention. Hoping for answers, they both hurried towards it, but their voices, and of course the portal, seemed to have attracted attention, and after only a few steps, Astarion found himself looking into a mirror.

The vampire stood before himself, his reflection, knowing only that it couldn't be a mirror, since, unlike him, he was draped in a red brocade ensemble interwoven with gold, not in tweed trousers and a shirt.

“Whatever dimension this is…it must be the dimension of very handsome bastards, indeed.”

Not losing his sense of humour, Astarion grinned broadly from pointy ear to pointy ear looking at his counterpart.

Oh yes…and there was one more thing:

He had no reflection.

His wife must have opened a portal to another dimension or set some very strange time travel in motion.

“Yes, I see, very good-looking visitors,” his counterpart grinned back a fanged smile, “but still rather strange.”

“So, you see and hear him too? It’s not just me?” the tiefling woman at his side seemed to have already begun to doubt her sanity and the disturbed expression on her face relaxed rapidly, “Phew! Thank the gods, that's a relief.”

“So either Gale’s pulling some sort of elaborate prank,” the red shimmering-ensembled Astarion continued, waving a hand lazily, “or your dear daddy Bhaal has decided to send a new Orin after us for some petty revenge scheme. I thought Withers had finally put him in his place — kicked him in the balls and everything.”

The white-haired head strolled casually from side to side, scrutinizing the newcomers, his eyes always sharp and alert. The keen, restless attention only Astarion could give.

"Oh, sorry...I think that's all my fault..." Aristen began to apologize, her nervousness rising, until it was replaced by something else entirely, "wait a moment: Did you say Bhaal?"

She and her own Astarion exchanged immediately a glance full of unspoken understanding.

“Oops. Forward again, am I?” the other Astarion said lightly, covering his mouth with a playful hand. “Probably shouldn’t have blurted that out.”

“But it’s all good now, it’s over,” the unfamiliar-yet-familiar elf added, slipping an arm around the horned woman with twilight skin and white-flame eyes. “She’s an absolute sweetheart.”

“No, really, it’s fine,” Aristen assured them quickly, waving her hands.

“Best not wave at them like that, darling,” her Astarion murmured. “We don’t want another portal mishap.”

But he didn’t look at her — his gaze was fixed on his double, glued to him, unable to pull away. The otherwise so controlled features of the elf's delicate mask he used to wear, failed him. His expression contorted, while he was trying to make sense of what he was seeing and his thoughts began to slowly process what his eyes had in front of him.

“Wow…gods, this is…” His voice cracked, the words slipping from him without permission.

He simply stared at the man who was him — same face, same voice, same presence — but wearing different clothing and his hand rested on another woman.

Thunderstruck.

Astarion's face literally bore the expression of someone who had seen a ghost. And in a way, he had. This very moment this encounter started to feel like that for him.

Aristen watched him carefully; the silence, the sudden vulnerability, the way shock hollowed out his breath. She understood immediately what this could stir in him.

Gently, she placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned closer.

“Is it strange,” she asked softly, steady as calm water, “to suddenly see yourself again? As if looking straight into a mirror?”

“Yes… I… a little,” he admitted, stumbling over his words — something he never did. “Seeing myself like this, in flesh and detail, I never would have expected it.”

“Hey, you two could actually use each other as mirrors!” Saulus, the tiefling bard, chimed in brightly, interrupting the apprehensiveness struck by inspirational idea “Imagine testing outfits on each other before going out — checking if the ensemble is really working.” “Saulus,” her Astarion gave her a slightly dark and piqued look, “not funny.”

His dimensional counterpart leaned in to him and whispered, “Actually…it is a pretty good idea.”

“I know, but shhh,” the other Astarion whispered back, smirking.

Aristen cleared her throat. "So, as I said, this whole mess is my fault, I'm sorry. I actually wanted to open a portal to the city's outskirts, but apparently the magic transcends entire dimensions. Therefore...I think we have quite a bit to discuss..."

“This was supposed to be a quiet evening picnic under the night sky,” a light sigh escaped the pale elf and he made a gesture to follow them, “but since Gale is in the city and insisted on showing us some star constellations anyway, I suppose a few extra guests won’t hurt. And he’ll definitely want to hear about all this. I'm sure he'd be very interested.”

...

The cozy blanket in the glow of the dimming campfire was quickly covered with tales and stories, as night settled around them. But first, they made sure that no one was an illusion, but rather made of actual flesh, blood and bone.

Aristen and Astarion showed for example a thing, that came with them, from their reality:

Astarion unfastened the amulet around his neck, that has glistening upon his chest so far, letting its shining surface catch fading firelight.

“This, harbours powerful ancient magic,” Aristen explained, brushing her fingers over it, “to keep him safe from the curse of sun over his kind. Similar to what the tadpole once did.”

It quickly became clear that their stories were similar and that Astarion was simply Astarion.

Their roads diverged wildly in detail, yet the core of their stories remained eerily aligned. Both parties knew Gale, Karlach, Shadowheart and the whole strange collection of companions. But after the crash and further on? Their timelines fractured more and more in the details - fortunately, not concerning the victory over the Elderbrain, Bhaal, as well Cazador - because their Bhaalspawn differed.

In one world, Aristen — a high elf sorceress.

In the other, Saulus — the tiefling bard.

Yet both women bore Orin’s touch of inflected amnesia. Both had walked the same knife-edge fate. The same story, repeating with different hands on the strings. Decisions changed outcomes; outcomes changed worlds. A butterfly effect on a divine scale. Thus, splitting realities. Every different decision, one by one.

But why were there two parallel worlds with two Chosen of Bhaal at all? Why two parallel worlds that mirrored each other so closely?

Gale had several theories about this and actually gave an entire lecture on diverged and parallel dimensions.

...

“So, in your dimension, Aristen were created from Bhaal’s blood, and then she came into conflict with Orin? And in our world, I exist instead?”, Saulus repeated to check if she got everything straight, rubbing her temples as she tried to keep up.

“Well, in principle, you could coexist,” Gale replied, combing his skill full wizard fingers thoughtfully through his beard.

Aristen frowned “What do you mean, Gale?”

“Bhaal created countless spawns,” Gale began, warming to the topic. “As Jaheira, Gorion and the Harper records have always hinted, they were scattered across the world, raised by strangers, unaware of their origins. Just as Astarion’s life shifted with every choice he made and changed him a little with every encounter,” he nodded toward both pale elves, “the structure of Bhaal’s temple could have changed many, many years before. In your timeline, Aristen becomes the Chosen. In ours, she does not — perhaps only a spawn, perhaps never discovered and we don’t know what became of her. Here, Saulus takes that role instead. Thus entered the devastating story of Orin and all her intrigues and the Dead Three’s plan. The classic butterfly effect.”

Saulus blinked, processing. “Does that mean there’s also an Aristen in our dimension, but her story unfolded completely differently, and we can search for her, and vice versa in her world? Or did Bhaal just…make me instead of her?”

“That,” Gale said, lifting a finger, “is one possibility. Perhaps her fate is so distorted here that she leads a normal life and was born without Bhaal blood. However,” he leaned forward, eager now, “given how closely your histories align yet, I suspect the divergence isn’t quite that dramatic. Since the previous accounts — especially those from our Astarion, pardon, the additional guest Astarion — otherwise align extremely well, I don't suspect such massive discrepancies would suddenly occur. Nevertheless, anything is possible. For more, I would need to conduct more extensive research.

With more research on planar conjunctions depending on the spheres, time-flow, and the underlying structure of parallel dimensions I could tell more profound theories.”

For Gale his explanation flowed like time itself.

He inhaled deeply and launched fully into lecture mode.

“You have to imagine the concepts of multiverses, with an infinite number of universes where every decision causes a new universe to branch off. The universe and realities remain parallel and identical to some point until a diverging event and a person's decision occur.

Because in the end, it could very well be that in the other timeline, a high elf was created as a spawn, and in ours, a tiefling, and every subsequent decision results in a different timeline, essentially a parallel world that runs concurrently with the other, but…"

"GALE!" all four shouted at once.

No one could stand it any longer and the wizard froze mid-gesture.

“Shut up!” both Astarions added in perfect, irritated unison, unable to remain diplomatic.

Saulus slumped forward with a pitiful groan.

"Oh dear, now I have a headache," the bard moaned, pouting sadly and clutching her horned head, which was truly spinning worse than after a few drinks, since she had tried so hard to follow Gale's explanation.

"Ungrateful philistines, it's really not that complicated..." Gale muttered slightly offended to himself and stomped off, to sulk somewhere quieter. He could do fine without that.

...

"All I hear is that we're somehow of the same blood, and that makes us sisters, doesn't it?" Saulus nudged Aristen with her shoulder, a crooked smile tugging at her dark lips.

"Daddy's little monsters," they laughed - the dry laughter of the hurt, "and his greatest disappointments."

Saulus’ mirth faded. For a brief moment, the memories weighed on her — years of fighting a bloody legacy she never asked for, of refusing the call of an abstinent father who existed only as a poisonous demanding whisper in the back of her mind. Lurking in dark shadows. It twisted her features with a tired sort of ache, when thinking of this malicious, commanding whisper. Aristen felt exactly the same way, even if it was only a voice from the past.

The two women sat side by side, sharing the warmth of the fire and the strange comfort of finding someone else who carried the same cursed blood. A sister - not of cruelty, but of choice.

And as the two of them sat together, trying to laugh and rejoice in their vanquished dark past and in having found a sister of the good kind, Astarion bumped softly against the other’s shoulder as they watched their two loves.

Brocade against green cloth.

The two Astarions stood close, observing their partners with identical fascination.

"It looks like”, he drawled, “I'm into women with fear of failure and severe daddy issues in every version of my life, huh? Seems to be my thing," he said to his counterpart, but it was Saulus who burst into loud, sudden laughter.

"Don't you laugh about it like that!" her Astarion protested teasingly in her direction, though amusement curled his lips, before he regarded his bard for a moment in a quiet and for him unusual serious way.

"Who would have thought that something positive would ever come of this whole Bhaalspawn story for you? A kind of blood sister — the nice kind of sister you like to have, I hope," he winked playfully at the blonde storm sorceress "I mean, that's what you've always wanted, isn't it? Family is so important to you, and that's why I'd really like to see something good come out of what that old geezer didn't intend. Especially then!"

Aristen turned to the bard and new found bhaal sister beside her, curiosity bright in her blue eyes.

“So, Saulus…what do you like to do when you’re not saving the world or juggling to understand portal disasters?”

The tiefling shrugged lightly. “Oh, you know. Spreading rumours, for example.”

Aristen blinked. “Spreading…rumours?”

“Mm-hm. Like telling everyone Gale got his first kiss from his cat.”

“Damn it, SAULUS!”

The bitter cursing shout cracked across the camp like a thunderclap — Gale’s voice, horrified, livid, and almost echoing with trauma. The wizard’s rare reaction seemed to have its reasons.

“Don’t say that again!” Gale snapped, “it took me ages to dispel that ridiculous claim! For reasons I absolutely do not comprehend, people were disturbingly willing to believe it!”

“Oh, Gale,” Saulus’ Astarion gave him a soothing smile and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, “don’t worry about it. And don’t delude yourself - you didn’t dispel anything. Everyone still believes it and that you learned how to kiss from your cat.”

“ARGH!”

The wizard's arms threw up in frustration — a dramatic gesture of finality — and it was only thanks to his mercy and immense patience of Mama Dekarios when raising him, that he didn't unleash a fireball on Astarion and Saulus, that prevented Gale from roasting both bard and vampire into smug, crispy ashes.

"Alright, that's it. I'm out!" Gale declared with a lack of eloquence and the slap on the wrist of this evening, as always when Astarion and Saulus joined shenanigans forces against him. He didn't want to know what would happen if there were two of the vampires. As scientifically interesting as it was, it posed a danger to his health, particularly his heart and nerves, especially the vein in his forehead.

He marched away, muttering about veins, stress, and the dangers of multiplying Astarions.

Saulus shrank a little, cheeks flushing.

"Maybe I shouldn't have said that. It does not make me look so good, doesn't it?" she murmured embarrassed, glancing shyly with uncertainty from Aristen to her own vampire husband, "I should have talked about my writing, my music, and reading."

"Oh, not at all," her Astarion dismissed with a flick of his hand.

"Why shouldn’t you?" Aristen giggled. "Well, I thought it was quite funny."

“See?” the bard’s Astarion smiled at her, nodding vigorously. “She gets it!”

There was relief that her new friend didn't judge her and seemed to understand her strange sense of humour and Saulus’ shoulders eased: “And I like to spend some fun time with my friends, maybe over a few tasty drinks.”

“A few,” her Astarion whispered proudly to his parallel self. “Always a few more. My girl’s insatiable.”

The other Astarion gave a low, knowing hum, which was accompanied by a twitching of the corners of his mouth.

"Oh, I know that feeling. My Aristen has the face of an angel, but if someone gets on her bad side, oh, I'm telling you, she can really dish it out. You don't want to experience her magic unchecked, exactly like her sharp tongue. Just like she quickly sheds her angelic nature in other areas to my advantage..."

"Interesting," grinned his counterpart from the Parallel Gate, rubbing his chin with gleaming eyes. "Go on."

"Astarion!" Aristen interrupted him, her warning tone cut through their mischief instantly and the sorceress’ admonishing eyes stopped him from continuing.

"What?!" The other Astarion's incomprehension met the blonde's. "What's her problem? This stays between us. Well, between me."

“She looks innocent and tender,” Aristen’s vampiric husband continued, “yet she’s made quite the name for herself as a bounty hunter against the bad guys.”

“A bounty hunter?!” Saulus’ eyes widened and she gasped impressed in surprise and admiration.

“Yes, that’s why the elegant yet practical outfit – designed and hand-sewn by me personally, of course”, kept Astarion explaining as if he were enjoying it. Was it perhaps pride he felt for his life with Aristen?

He straightened proudly, and in that moment, it was unmistakable: he wasn’t boasting. He was proud — proud of his work, proud of his life with her and his other self (or own self) from the other multiverse could easily recognize this; he didn't need to look at how he was standing or even look at his clothes, Saulus’ Astarion understood it because of his own heart.

“It looks excellent. Just as your own outfit, Astarion,” the vampire grinned a broad fanged smile as he emphasized his own name.

“Thank you, Astarion,” the other nodded back, thanking him and laughing.

Behind them, the Bhaalspawn wives couldn't resist exchanging quick glances.

“I made it myself, because you have to understand — it might sound crazy to you — I work as a tailor in the city. The great thing about it is that I can always work closely with my dearest and most beautiful model, Aristen, designing, pattern making, and fitting.”

The smile he gave his wife was radiant and truly like a ray of sunshine. And you didn't have to be Astarion and Saulus to recognize that it was genuine love he bestowed upon her. But perhaps he only showed so much sincere emotion so openly in front of others because it was, in a sense, himself standing before him.

No, by now Astarion had absolutely no problem showing his feelings, neither in public nor in front of others. He might joke around, but he had learned how precious love, trust, and honesty were. The vampire knew what he had been given and appreciated it more and more each day. So, he could proudly display this treasure, just as the other one did.

He saw it every moment: He loved to tease his beloved, to make her laugh and react, to keep his teasing hands on her all the time, and to praise and support her whenever the opportunity arose, because she was the apple of his eye.

And his counterpart witnessed it with a private understanding — because he felt the same for the love he found in his world.

Because both versions of him knew exactly how precious it was to be loved and chosen after a lifetime without it.

“We built a real life together and in marriage we promised that we want to spent it together at each other’s side forever.”

Saulus clapped delightedly, her tail flicking with excitement.

“Ooooh! I’m so happy you’re married too! Every Astarion and daughter of Bhaal finding love and happiness and breaking their cursed past bound by blood. It’s so beautiful! I wish I could’ve been at your wedding! What a shame!”

The two vampires grinned at each other like mirrored foxes.

“Oh, I’m sure you’d love to know whose wedding was more extraordinary,” one said.

“Which Astarion made the day more unforgettable,” the other chimed.

Their voices blended into perfect harmony as they declared unisono:

“Me, obviously hahahaha!”

With identical flourish, both tossed their heads back in synchronized smug laughter — white curls bouncing — while their ringed hands clutched their chests dramatically.

Saulus and Aristen turned toward each other with matching expressions of dread, their movements slow and cautious, like prey avoiding a predator.

“That’s creepy,” they whispered together.

Saulus leaned toward Aristen, her voice hushed with inspiration.

“I swear, Gale needs to make some kind of audio astral projection recorder for me. Their voices in unisono? I could use that in music.”

She was one hundred percent sure of that, but she had another idea:

“Or it’s something I can use to scare the children.”

“You have children?”

“Oh yes, our sweet little sunshines…” Saulus beamed with the power of the full daylight at the mere thought.

But her enthusing enumeration was interrupted.

"I know you two sweethearts could chat endlessly, but we should get back to our own dimension to see if it's still standing after our absence," Astarion interjected casually with his calm smile, which, however, always harboured eyes that screamed ‘immediately’.

The Tiefling clung in excited anticipation to Aristen’s hand “You absolutely must meet them next time you have more time to stay, yes?”, Saulus still insisted.

Hope accompanied her eager smile and sparkling eyes.

“Oh Saulus, you sweet little lamb,” her personal vampire couldn’t hold it between his teeth, hoping that her honest character would also soften the other two, for Saulus’ sake.

Aristen’s eyes lit up.

“Then I’ll teach you the portal spell. So you can visit us anytime you want.”

Astarion coughed pointedly. “Saulus isn’t the best with spells.”

“That is NOT true,” Saulus shot back. “Just because I don’t’ use them all the time, it doesn’t mean I’m bad at them. Same way choosing diplomacy doesn’t mean I won’t throw hands if necessary. If I may remind you.”

“Oh right,” her husband said, grimacing at the memory. “The tavern. That poor idiot learned this the hard way.”

Astarion barked a laugh. “Ha! That was funny…for me,” the rogue corrected and a wicked grin curled his mouth a second later.

He leaned in, eyes shimmering with playful hunger.

“You’re right, though. I’ve always loved being under your spell.”

No longer hiding emotion came easy to him now; love gave him the chance. Even it may sound for others like his old sugar-coated lines. But it wasn’t for them or anyone else anyway.

Saulus tried — tried — to look unimpressed.

“Did you write that down earlier or did it just occur to you?”

She was not very good at it; her sparkling eyes and twitching ears gave her away.

“It came to me all by myself,” he purred and grinned cheekily at her.

Behind his back, the two Astarions exchanged the quickest, proudest, sneakiest high-five in history — undetectable to anyone but each other.

…

While Aristen taught Saulus the spell for the portal, marking the ground with the glyphs she had devised, and then meticulously rehearsing the incantation and hand movements so that, for the ultimate test later, they would reopen the portal together for their journey home, thus permanently adding it to Saulus’ repertoire and creating a permanent tunnel between their parallel worlds, allowing them to maintain their newfound friendship and possibly sisterhood, their two husbands stood silently in the background.

Like two statues carved from the same marble.

Shoulder to shoulder, their posture perfectly upright. Only their clothing distinguished them. Otherwise, from the curve of their pale throats to the last white curl resting against them, the two Astarions were perfectly identical — or had been, until the crash of the Nautiloid had torn their lives onto separate rails.

Both had met and been reshaped by a Bhaalspawn. Both had survived the tadpoles, the madness, the trials. And although Aristen and Saulus were wildly different, their shared spark made them an endlessly entertaining pair to watch. The two vampires wore matching smirks as they observed them — an expression halfway between amusement and something suspiciously close to fondness. The way the women interacted, so quickly so familiar, so effortlessly close, was as if they had grown up side by side instead of being born in different worlds entirely.

But then Astarion who had come through the portal with Aristen noticed a shift. His counterpart was looking at him, and seemed to be studying him quite intently.

"What?" he asked, beginning to perceive a slight shimmer of suspicion in the vampiric red.

“It’s just strange,” his own sonorous voice echoed from the other’s mouth, “a person who knows your every thought. Every single one, no matter how hidden or secret. To stand before someone like that, who knows absolutely everything about you, right down to the things you’d never discuss with anyone. Every impulse, every shame, every secret. A person who remembers every moment of your life because they lived it too. Fascinating, don’t you think?”

“…It’s quite interesting…”

The air thickened with old memories.

With each word, the temperature around them dropped like a cold stone. With each word, vivid images opened up before the eyes of both vampires, and their mutual gaze suddenly became fixed, their eyes narrowing into hostile slits, no longer able to let the other out of sight.

Until: “Hahahahaha”

Both began to laugh lightly, tossing their silver curly heads back, their elegant wrists waving dismissively.

Just like that, the tension dissolved. They resumed their statuesque pose, hands clasped neatly behind their backs, watching once more the two Bhaalspawn sisters practice their spell.

…

Except now and then, each would dart a quick sideways glance at the other — cautious, curious and competitive.

…

“That’s exactly how I opened the portal. If we repeat all the steps exactly the same way, we can open the same tunnel and an entrance to our dimension,” Aristen finished her explanation, and everything was ready to repeat the conjuration and begin the journey home.

But Saulus was thinking one step ahead:

"If we consider this hypothetically”, she began — a dangerous word on her lips — “if you can open a portal to other dimensions, that means you could theoretically open a portal anywhere.”

Her eyes brightened, the spark of a ridiculous idea already taking shape but it was that kind of spark that was a promise for a certain plan of shenanigans.

“Which means you could – let's say, quite by chance – open a portal to the maturation warehouse of Cormyr? Or directly into one of the giant barrels of bloodwine in Thay."

Was her mouth already curling with unholy delight, or rather with a burgeoning thirst at the mere thought? In any case, the flames in the tiefling's eyes flickered a little more wildly around the fire of mischief. Like the world’s most enthusiastic arsonist discovering fireworks.

“By the gods, if you can do that, NO! Believe me, the last thing this woman needs is a direct passage to even more happy hour drinks,” Astarion immediately intervened mockingly with an earnest expression on his face to their new acquaintances.

This was, of course, the same man who would happily hand her a match and point her toward trouble.

Because intervening was something in reality, he never would take action for, more like incitement to even more nonsense. He teased his wife, clung to her, made her laugh, praised her whenever he could. Because she was everything to him.

“Hey!” protested Saulus the bard, “I'm not thinking of myself at all. I was thinking of the customers! Imagine an urgent delivery to the New Waning Moon failing — or a delay on ingredients for our perfumery in the city. Not to mention no waiting time for special imported goods, for the extravagant tastes of the customers – it's all about them.”

“Yes, “the customers”,” the quotation marks Astarion formed with his nimble fingers were completely superfluous given the way his tongue and voice already emphasized the two words with grotesque irony, doing the work of an entire theatre ensemble.

The Tieflings lips flattened into a pouty line “It was just an idea...” Saulus muttered capitulating, tail drooping.

But her barely-whispered retreat had the opposite effect on Astarion and he continued her last thoughts immediately:

“If anything, then we'll use the portal to get into the bank vault.”

The rogue dismissed her idea and clearly presented grandly the only obvious option for using Aristen's new spell.

Across from him, the second Astarion’s ruby-red eyes lit up like a pair of blood gemstones catching fire.

Almost disappointed in himself, the vampire's fine elven face twisted into a less than refined expression: “Why didn't I think of that?!”

Had “ordinary, normal” life softened him? Domesticity trimmed down the edges of his rogue’s instincts? The thought wounded him deeply in his little criminal wicked heart.

The storm child only laughed quietly, shaking her head at her husband's feral overzealousness.

“Why didn't I think of that first?” he hissed, clutching his chest as though betrayed by his own mind. His eyes snapped to his parallel self, then to Aristen.

His own hand, which he placed on his chest in dismay, could neither give him an answer nor console him for the fact that this idea had not occurred to him first and that his thieving rogue nature was perhaps suffering a little under the good influence of his wife or under the everyday routine of normal life. Although retirement and "normal" were relative when it came to a life with his Aristen and was still very far removed from a normal bourgeois life.

“Why didn't we think of that? Why didn't you think of that?”, the not so former rogue kept hissing to his wife, who didn’t lose or succeeded in hiding her broadening, amused smile.

“We need to do his idea!” Aristen’s Astarion agreed without hesitation with his multiverse self.

The white-haired elf's urging only made Aristen chuckle more, shaking her blonde hair in amusement.

“If you really can do that, my stormy little rose, then teleport us straight to the newly filled vault of the Counting House!”

The large red eyes of the pale elf with which he stared at his own wife were perhaps even more excited than those of the tiefling bard before.

At least they were definitely more insistent.

“In, rob or a little bank loan, portal away!”

His excitement was borderline feral. Only the restraint of decorum kept him from grabbing his wife by the shoulders and shaking her in gleeful anticipation.

Aristen's deliberate, barely perceptible grin became increasingly difficult for her to suppress, lest her amusement at the incorrigible nature of her beloved rogue turn into loud laughter. She was not a supporter of his deeply criminal streak, which helped no one but himself, and she did not approve of his selfishness, but that did not mean she would ever think of trying to change him. It was part of his charm and simply part of Astarion himself.

This breeze of his chaotic nature, more like a strong gust of wind, was a tone that foreshadowed a catastrophe, and the mere thought of it was enough for Aristen. It was amusing, but she wouldn't plan a bank robbery. Often, Astarion's grotesque, dark humor brought tears of laughter to her eyes. Even when his own red eyes rolled at her kindness, helpfulness, and acts of charity, she could at least find amusement in his chaos, but then act differently. Surely a little dark humor was allowed, wasn't it?

"Didn't you just say you were absolutely determined to get back to our dimension as soon as possible and no further magical experiments?"

Aristen’s grin stretched - thin, amused, controlled - nevertheless still dangerously close to the point of loud laughter.

"That's right," Astarion sighed, partly disappointed, partly capitulating, "you're right. Well, I am right, about going home. No matter how nice a few skeins of free Cormyr silk, along with some beautiful matching sparkling gold coins, would have been."

Yes, his wife was amused by his chaos, even charmed by it, but would she ever enable him? Absolutely not. Aristen loved Astarion - all of him - without trying to change him. But she also wasn’t about to let him rob the largest bank in the Gate.

…

Training time was over and their time together had to end.

Aristen and Saulus spoke the final spell. Green grass marked with the now glowing glyphs, enchanted by Aristen with arcane energy.

The two moved with the focused synchronicity of seasoned performers. They rehearsed the incantation until their breaths matched, their hands weaving identical arcs through the air. This would be the final conjuration — opening the portal together so the interdimensional Sigil Circle would anchor itself between their worlds permanently, allowing both to travel freely and keep alive the strange, delightful friendship fate had dropped into their laps.

But when the time for parting came and the portal opened — not into a warehouse full of imported spirits or a bank vault glittering with coin, but into their home dimension — the air was filled not only with the portal's swirling energy and the trail of the weave, but also with the anticipation of exciting new encounters and the gentle sadness of finally having to say goodbye.

The blades of grass and flowers swayed as the passage to the other side opened.

Everything was ready. The glyphs glowed. The weave hummed.

The remaining smug smile on the perfect lips. Astarion parted from his own version from another dimension, parted with a gentle nod and a knowing smile from the oldest and best friend you could have, the one that knows you best and makes any further word redundant.

"It was the most amazing thing that you two landed right here tonight," grinned Saulus "I can't wait until we can see each other again. There are a thousand things I want to tell and show you, Aristen."

The sadness of parting hung just as softly in the grass as the anticipation of seeing each other again.

She couldn't help herself and pulled Aristen into a warm, tight hug.

"Until the next meeting with your...sister," a crooked grin stole onto Astarion's lips as the other couple stepped to the portal.

"Why is he grinning like that because of this?" Aristen blinked confused, glancing back as her own vampire pushed her further through the portal.

"Oh, you don't want to know."

…

"Bye!" Saulus waving wildly long after the portal had swallowed the other couple. She kept waving. And waving.

"Saulus, darling, they’ve been gone for a while. They can’t see you anymore. I think you can stop waving."

She lowered her hand, but the grin stayed. “Shall we have a drink to celebrate this?”

"My little sweetheart”, the vampire said with a fond roll of his eyes, hands wandering to her hips and her tail, “you would have had a drink even if this hadn't happened."

"True, but now there's a reason for it…several," Saulus smiled, not letting herself be bothered.

"You're right, can’t argue with that. I mean…”, the elf smiled mischievously with a sly wink, “how often does one see such a handsome fellow?", a sharp laugh rolled over his lips.

...

Meanwhile, on the other side of the portal:

“I must admit,” Astarion said as they stepped back into Aristen’s lab, “I’m not usually one for these double-date social gatherings. I see no need for befriended couples. Nor do I see the need of you having any girl nights. But if it’s with these two…I can see it.”

Aristen raised a brow. “So what you’re literally saying is that the only person you genuinely want to be friends with…is yourself?”

“Please, who wouldn’t?”

Astarion's sharp laugh echoed through Aristen's laboratory and possibly even through the closing portal.

…

No Gale was harmed in the making of this story.

( Sorry, Gale! )

➹a/n: It was such fun and honour to work with you on that @aristenfromwarsaw 😊 To bring our bhaal sisters together made me so happy. Thank you for doing this with me; thank you for Aristen being the sister Saulus always wanted and deserves 💖 I hope we never stop playing with our blorbos 😄😊 It means very much to me that our girls are friends like we are and that you always care so much for my Saulus 💖

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