More deranged astarion headcanons cause I don't want to do work or go to the store
Astarion is cat-coded 100% even if Neil didn't say he was inspired by his cat, but when I heard that it totally made sense.
This means Astarion is fickle, does exactly what he wants, can be an annoying little bitch but you'll forgive him because he's cute, and has his "person"
Astarion is not a cuddler by nature but just like a cat, he might decide that all you're doing is be his pillow. But that also means he might decide that you are NOT allowed to touch.
This also applies to the “stares at you without blinking cause I don’t trust you” and “let me stare at you and blink slowly because I trust you” behavior
Being a sassy lil bitch is his version of knocking shit off tables, BAPS for the things he doesn’t understand
Vampire magic keeps his hair perfect (this is totally made up, but his hair is PERFECT and they're CONSTANTLY fucking filthy and I live with a man who has beautiful curly hair and the maintenance is insane, there's no fucking way)
Hates when you do things for him, hates having to “need” you, takes him a long time to learn that it’s not so he owes you something and it’s just what friends/partners do
Hates doing things for people but is actually very good at looking at something and going “this was meant for [insert person here]”
Has the weirdest sense of humor, not always dark but usually
Pretends he can take an insult or be the punchline of a joke that he’d probably tell about himself, but secretly hates it
The pendulum swings between hypersexuality and not even wanting to hold hands, the most vanilla man you know, the sex dungeon is for you and also the aesthetic (I am all behind the “Gale is the kinkiest man you know and Astarion just wants missionary when the illusion of being a depraved kinkster wears off”)
Expressive and Sensitive Elf Ear Supremacy
I feel like Astarion sweating was a graphical/coding oversight but yeah… I’m here for it.
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Astarion/Tav (Female/NB)
Characters: Astarion Ancunin, Female/NB Tav, (Gale is Important to the story but not the romance)
Additional Tags: Modern AU with Some Twists, Slow Burn, they were roommates, Vampires, Explicit Sexual Content
Summary: Sometimes you have to sell your blood to a vampire to keep your head above water.
Fuller Summary: Rowan Vignaud (basically of A Non-Hero’s Guide fame but different for the narrative) signs up to be a live-in blood donor for a vampire in order to keep living in the city post-economic crash. That vampire, of course, happens to be Astarion. Both slowly come out of their shells (and respective emotional slumps) to learn how to live with one another.
Some personal Astarion headcanons because I'm bored.
Some are rooted in my experience as a player or digging in the files, some might be from other player discussions, and others are purely made up. I don't take any of it seriously
Astarion is not ORIGINALLY from Baldur's Gate. Where is he from? idk. I don't know that much about Forgotten Realms/DnD. But I think Cazador is too smart and paranoid to not vet his potential spawn, if they were Baldurian they'd have to be "forgettable" and it seems unlikely anyone in the Gate is forgetting Astarion. I think it was smart for them to nix the Noble background for Astarion because of this, although he could be a noble from somewhere outside of the Sword Coast.
That being said, Cazador compelled Astarion to forget everything about himself from before he was a spawn, so to spawn Astarion, he IS Baldurian and after 200+ years, he blends right in.
Astarion came to the Gate as a fresh-faced adventurer rogue, which explains... being a rogue. Why? I don't have a real why, I've considered everything from "rebelling/getting away from his family" to "for fun, maybe his family is full of retired adventurers"
"I was a magistrate" was one of many stories to lure victims. Even if he was for even a brief time, I don't think he'd remember that. also possible Cazador told him that.
Astarion may not have been the only one luring people back with sex but I think he learned it was the most effective way. When you're getting tortured for failure, it doesn't matter if success turns your stomach.
Cazador carefully seduced Astarion, but not with the promise of eternal life. His resemblance to Vellioth caught Cazador's attention. Cazador lured him with promises of patronage or just good ole "rich powerful man wants me?" energy. Cazador attacked Astarion himself and sold him a lie that Gur (easy to blame, as they are widely disliked and considered barbaric) attacked him.
The graveyard Astarion was buried in is small and has a mix of noble mausoleums and paupers' graves. Likely Cazador had enough sway and money, through a intermediary ("oh, the poor boy, Lord Cazador hired him for tasks and he did so well, what a tragedy"), to get Astarion an expedited burial with no questions (seeing as anyone with eyes can see he's got 2 big bite marks in his neck). Astarion says he's never been there since he came out the first time, but I believe Cazador has put him back in there on occasion as punishment (along with putting him in a proper tomb, possibly borrowed from the Hhunes), he just represses it. That's why Cazador keeps the plot and headstone, to torture him, but it remains overgrown.
Astarion's original hair color is silver, but it was a bit more lustrous, and his skin was already fairly pale but now it doesn't have the glow of life/blood (and they should have picked a paler skin tone, but it is what it is). I know that this would probably make him a Moon Elf, who commonly have blue or green eyes, and while I love me some vibrant blue or green eyes... I am a "golden brown" fan, sorry. They looked dark while in the shade and turn golden when hit by the light. I really enjoy the brown hair/brown eyes fanart and edits though, good job everyone
They say vampires feel only hunger. They are paranoid, loveless, and cruel. They believe they are superior to all living creatures, even the spawn. In a fucked up weird way, Cazador really did love Astarion and his spawn (but especially Astarion) and believe they were like family. The Szarrs were a vampiric family in blood and... well, more blood. Cazador took out his hate and twisted love for his master Vellioth on Astarion. Cazador hated that Astarion constantly wriggled out of his grasp, testing him. Sometimes Astarion would play along just to get Cazador to cool off, but Cazador would find out it was a lie and punish him harder for "breaking his heart."
Astarion is THE MOST self-interested person in the party and it's perfect that he is. He is paranoid, hungry, cruel, and superior. He needs to get back as SOON as possible to Baldur's Gate because Cazador will probably scalp him and hammer bamboo shoots under his fingernails for disappearing. Then he realizes that he could feasibly BEAT Cazador and the sooner it happens, the better. Stop helping orphans, I need to get home, tick-tock! He also has no foresight, even though that would be a GREAT trait for a fucking ROGUE. He wants you to stop helping and saving people even though they will help you in the future because he projects his own personality on others: they're selfish and won't do shit for you.
I could probably go on forever but I've forgotten some things at this point. I'm supposed to be doing math right now.
Bloodweave (Astarion/Gale), Light Domming-from-the-Top Gale, ~1k Words
Rating: Explicit
Story below cut:
With a playful little smirk on his lips, Astarion slipped into Gale’s office.
“My office hours start in an hour,” Gale called out pointedly, not bothering to take his eyes off his work.
Pressing his back to the heavy oak, Astarion closed the door.
Gale looked up over the rim of his reading glasses to see if his guest was actually so rude as to not apologize for intruding before leaving.
“I promise, I’ll be quick.” Astarion gave him a wicked little grin as his delicate fingers twisted the lock, making sure they wouldn’t be interrupted.
“I have never found that to be the case.”
Gale ignored him as he sauntered over. He didn’t even look up when Astarion sat on the edge of his desk, just slid his pen holder into a more stable position.
“I need a private lesson, Professor Dekarios,” Astarion purred, leaning forward, getting so close to Gale that his breath disturbed the wispy stray hairs along his hairline.
“You’re in my light.”
Astarion knocked over the pen holder, sending its contents clattering all over the floor.
“Oops.” Gale glowered at him. Astarion gave him a coy little smirk as he got off the desk. “Let me just… clean that up.”
Unnecessarily, he got on his hands and knees. He took his time, picking up each pen and dropping it into the cup holder with a plunk.
Plunk. Plunk. Plunk plunk.
Astarion reached for another when Gale’s foot came down on his hand, gently enough to not hurt him, but firm enough that it would hurt to break free.
Gale’s dark voice washed over him, sending a shiver up his spine. “This is what you really came here for, isn’t it?”
Red eyes traveled up Gale’s long legs, culminating in the most glorious sight.
Slowly stroked by his hand, Gale’s cock proudly jutted out of the open fly of his trousers.
And from above, Gale’s dark brown eyes drilled right into Astarion. His serious blank expression shifted into a confident smirk.
“Well? What are you waiting for? It’s not going to suck itself.”
Gale lifted his foot, allowing Astarion to finally escape. Still on his knees, he lifted his head until it was in-line with his next meal. Greedily, Astarion opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue.
Gale moved his cock away out of reach. He gave it one more pass with his ink-stained hands and, on the up-stroke, let it go so that it fell on Astarion’s awaiting tongue with a meaty thwack.
With a delighted moan, Astarion took it into his mouth, coating it with his saliva. He savored the taste and feel of skin on his tongue.
Placing his hand on the back of Astarion’s head, sparing no care for the man’s perfect curls, Gale pressed his hips forward until the head of his cock was welcomed by Astarion’s throat.
“I am short on time, my love,” he growled through his pleasure.
For a few minutes, Gale used Astarion’s mouth like a toy. Astarion huffed and groaned as always pleased his lover. When he let a glob of frothy spit drool out of his mouth and drip onto the rug, Gale tugged his face off of his cock despite whiny protestations.
“Tch. Always making messes…” Gale chided, gently tugging Astarion up by the hair. Astarion happily complied.
Still holding him by the hair, Gale kissed Astarion roughly, his beard coming away sticky with saliva.
“You want a private lesson, hm? You have a lot to learn.”
With that, Gale shoved Astarion against his desk. It was gentle, most of the impact coming from Astarion throwing himself forward.
Wearing high-heeled boots just for this occasion, Astarion’s ass fit perfectly against Gale’s hips without any kneeling or standing on tiptoe. He had to consider the poor man’s knees.
Astarion also chose his clothing carefully. Keeping in mind time and ease, his pants untied at the back and had enough stretch so that Gale could easily pull them down over his ass.
Gale teased him, bucking his cock over his waiting hole, kneading and squeezing the firm flesh on either side.
But he didn’t have a lot of time and Astarion knew to come ready, so the teasing ended early. With a hand on Astarion’s hip, Gale slid his cock in to the sound of Astarion’s muffled moan.
The desk kept Astarion from shifting too far away, but Gale still took hold of his waist with both hands and pulled his lover back as he thrust forward. In any other place, he could go like this for hours. By denying himself just a little bit of pleasure through sheer force of will, he could ward off his own orgasm until Astarion was utterly spent.
This time, he let every crumb of stimulation wash over him. He could feel Astarion quiver underneath him with every stroke, probably ruining the papers scattered across the desk with the drool leaking out of his mouth.
Astarion was in heaven, receiving exactly what he came for. Gale knew how to treat him right, all of the things that drove him crazy. Most importantly, he trusted the man raining down blissful punishment on him to stop when asked.
Trapped in his half-removed trousers, his cock strained, begging to be set free, to be touched. The friction only made Astarion moan into his hand more.
“Please,” he breathed out between his fingers, panting with every motion of Gale’s hips.
“Speak up,” Gale commanded calmly, despite how ready he was to come undone.
“Please,” Astarion whined a little more loudly. “Please, Gale, fill me with your cum.”
Astarion didn’t need to beg twice. Already playing with fire, Astarion’s sweet filthy words were all it took for Gale to instantly fulfill the request. Leaning forward to brace himself with one hand on the desk, Gale groaned in Astarion’s ear as he gave one last thrust. Hand firmly placed on Astarion’s hip, he locked them together. They felt every pulse of his cock as he gave Astarion wave after wave of hot cum.
Spent, Gale pressed a kiss to the back of Astarion’s neck. In his ear, he whispered, “Thank you, my love. I needed that.”
“Me too,” Astarion whispered back breathlessly, not wanting to lift his head from the nice cool surface of the desk.
But by now, eager bright-eyed students were waiting outside the door and Gale could not keep his adoring public waiting.
Gale could see it. The hollowness behind her eyes. Dull. Kept alive by the mere fact that there was no reason to be dead.
Eletha had a strong will. Perhaps that was hard to believe, after the things she'd done. But even the hardest metal could become brittle from stress. Fate seemed to be throwing everything it had on her to test that strength.
No matter. They had work to do and, somehow, Eletha was an expert at pushing down her problems for the sake of the mission.
Except for that one time.
And another, more recent time...
Honestly, he was a little impressed how well she cleaned up. No one would know that she was rolling around in the dirt all night like a dog.
At the end of the next day, Gale and Astarion tagged along as Eletha made her way to the Wandering Star hideout. Not out of any particular sense of protectiveness. Although, Gale did want to discuss some things with her friends, if he could manage to bend their ear without her hearing.
Astarion was just following Gale, mostly.
Considering the circumstances, everything appeared fairly calm in the hideout. The younger members gathered around their leader to regale her excitedly with tales from the past few days.
An easy smile rested on Eletha's lips as her eyes flickered from speaker to speaker.
"Like sitting in a pile of puppies," Mellia remarked smoothly from behind Gale's left shoulder, causing him to flinch and then chuckle uncertainly.
"Yes. She certainly seems to be in her element here..."
"Especially after recent events." Gale questioned her with his eyes. She shrugged flippantly. "A little birdy told me. Or rather, a little batty."
"Every bit a vampire," Astarion said a little scathingly from Gale's other side.
"Careful, sugarplum, green isn't really your color." Mellia punctuated the remark with a playful wink. Ignoring the sour expression the man shot back, she changed tones. "She won't blame you if you give up on her."
Gale's brows furrowed and his tone hardened. "Did she say something to that effect?"
"No. Not exactly. I just want to make it clear that you should make your peace a priority." Mellia made a general gesture to their surroundings. "After, you know. The world stops ending."
"I... We..." Gale glanced at Astarion, who sighed.
"Perhaps all she needs is a good killing spree," Mellia said hopefully. A devilish smile crinkled the corners of Astarion's eyes as he made to agree with delight.
"Oh, you're back! Come say hi!" Zespira called out excitedly with an energetic wave of her hand, interrupting every conversation in the room.
Everyone turned their head and laid eyes on Quynn Irithyl standing at the top of the stairs, Heilar not far behind.
Gale watched with bated breath as mother and son stared at each other before Quynn approached and Eletha turned the rest of her body toward him. He expected her to... well, do anything other than stand there calmly.
There was the slightest bit of annoyance in her eyes as they registered Heilar's presence. They said, 'You couldn't do this one thing?'
Quynn was the first to speak. "Do you really have nothing to say to me?"
"I assumed you'd go first. All I ever wanted was for my parents to shut up so I could lay into them," Eletha answered judiciously, but Gale could see the slight shake in her body that told him she was trying very hard to hold something back.
"Is that what you think I want to do? Yell at you?"
"I have tortured myself with this moment for your entire life. Yelling was the usual outcome."
On the sidelines, Gale wanted to yell at her himself. She was being so cold.
But would warmth have mattered?
Trembling with his own anxiety, rage, and sadness, Quynn balled his hands into fists at his side.
"I..." He seemed to finally realize that several pairs of eyes were staring at them. Suddenly, he was on display. All the anger rushed out of him like the wind dying in a sail. Quietly, his head losing its proud height, he admitted, "I don't know what to do."
"I'm sorry, E'sum."
Wide-eyed, Quynn's head snapped up to meet Eletha's gaze.
"Don't forgive me, I don't deserve it. Not even my death could right the wrong I've done you," she clarified with just the slightest waver unleveling her voice. The only thing keeping her steady was that she'd written these words long ago and practiced them ever since.
"But I am sorry. Not for leaving. Not for ignoring your letters.
"I'm sorry you couldn't be born to someone who wanted you, who could greet you with joy instead of pain. I was never afforded that. I was born from pain, and I understand the weight that puts on your soul. I'm sorry you inherited my emptiness.
"I thought you would be better off with them. That you could replace their shining golden child. It seems they loved you more than they could ever love me, but I know what it's like, to have the world ripped out from under you by a lie.
"I'm sorry you have to live knowing that I tried to die rather than have you. You don't deserve that."
Quynn's fists unfurled as she spoke. There was a pain in his chest that he'd known so many times before as he, too, tortured himself with their meeting. He'd expected her to beg, to fall to her knees and cry. When he started watching them from afar and saw how she handled her own pain, he started to expect that display too.
Instead, his mother stood before him like an imperious statue, lacking any emotion. At least, that was how he saw her. To those of her who knew her better, she was on the edge of a spectacular breakdown. To her adoring Wandering Stars, she was being frighteningly cold.
A few paces behind Quynn, Heilar rested his hand on his sword's scabbard.
Tears welled up in Quynn's eyes and his throat started to hurt, a hot searing pain. Later, his ears would burn from embarrassment.
"I... I just wanted you to see me," he admitted.
With as much emotion as she could manage without breaking, she told him, "I see you, Quynn."
"Do you love me?"
Eletha looked away.
Gale's heart broke a little.
Not answering his question, at least not in the way it should have been answered, she reached into her hip bag and pulled out a jingling pouch. It contained all of the platinum pieces she collected, save for the one she gave to Astarion, and even more gold.
"Maybe I didn't want to be your mother, but that doesn't mean I want you to die."
Even with the tears blurring his vision, Quynn caught the tossed pouch with perfect reflexes. The coins clinked and scraped against each other as he squeezed it. Its weight made his anger flare.
"Yet you're a mother to everyone else!" he threw back at her, his face turning red.
Eletha's stoic mask faltered. "W-What?"
"I watched! In the taverns and streets. I see how you coddle and corral them. Practically wipe their noses with your sleeves! You'd take a knife to the gut for any in your band of fools."
"That- I- They're different. I have fought beside them."
"Our family was right. All you are is a sword. You respect nothing but might. Then I have no choice-"
Heilar's eyes went wide and his voice strained in distress. "No, boy, don't-"
Gale's heart seized in his chest. Quynn threw the coin purse aside dramatically as he unsheathed his longsword.
And pointed the tip at Eletha.
"I challenge you!"
"I told you not to do this!" Heilar yelled at him, now physically trying to stop his charge from doing something foolish.
"You really are your father's son," Eletha said under her breath mirthlessly, her cold mask back in place. Perhaps under different circumstances, her words would've been fond.
But Eletha put her hand on the hilt of her sword, the one that did not glow. It would be unfair to use the other.
"Eletha, don't-" Gale started firmly, only to be cut off by her cold, hard voice.
"Do you understand what it means to challenge me?" she asked Quynn.
"I said I understand!" Quynn shrugged Heilar off. He fixed his mother with a hard glare. "Don't bother yielding."
"There are few blades I'd rather fall to." Sword free, Eletha stepped forward and settled into her typical fighting stance.
They met with a teeth-clenching clang of steel. To an untrained eye, she was babying him. But in reality, she was testing the extent of his skill.
Quynn perceived it incorrectly and gritted his teeth in agitation. He pushed, only to be met by her precise defense.
Just from a few blows, she understood what she was up against. He was a foe she'd spent many years sparring with.
However, unlike with a young Astarion, Eletha did not reserve her skill or ferocity.
She was tireless. Focused. He was good enough to ward off her attacks, taking only small knicks and slices to his hands and arms.
She pushed him around the room, always moving forward, not caring that their audience had to scatter to avoid being trampled.
Quynn managed a hit, a long score running up the armor of her left arm. Confidence began to build in him.
But Eletha continued to stare him down with sharp, predator's eyes. Not a single bead of sweat had formed on her brow.
He'd only meant to bait her into a reaction, but now he was starting to understand just how right he'd been.
Eletha was a perfect killing machine and he'd made himself a target.
He backed away from a strike, only to feel his back against the wall.
"Boy, yield!" Heilar cried out. His voice only now broke through, falling on deaf ears until Quynn lost his focus on the duel.
With nowhere to go, he tried pushing her back, but she was relentless. Every step back was just to thrust forward that much harder.
"Yield, dammit!" their swordmaster screamed. His hand finally took hold of his sword. "Lorelai!"
As if finally waking from a nightmare, having watched the scene like the audience to his own life, Astarion added his voice to the pleas for reason. "Eletha!"
Quynn's knees were shaking.
Heilar was running towards them.
Gale said the magic words and did the proper motions with genius efficiency.
No match for the magic of Mystra's once-chosen, Eletha froze in place, an artist's rendition of a perfect thrust in a martial manual.
But before Mystra granted Gale's request, Mellia appeared before her friend in the blink of an eye. Using her vampiric speed, she shoved Quynn away from the blow that would have killed him and took his place instead.
Eletha's blade sank a few inches into her chest.
Red-black blood oozed out of the wound around the sword.
Mellia smiled as the same liquid slipped out from her mouth. "Don't worry, Ellie. It's not my time. It's just a magic trick."
With that, her form dissipated into smoke. Wherever it was, she returned to her coffin and entered a rejuvenating slumber.
Heilar knelt beside Quynn, checking him for damage. The younger man pushed him away and stared up at Eletha, still frozen, with something resembling... awe.
Ever so slightly, Eletha's form shook.
Clutching his head, Gale screamed and his knees buckled underneath him. It was the tadpole, feeding him whatever Eletha's sent at him in an attempt to defend itself.
Searing white-hot pain shot through his whole body, culminating in a horrible twisting in his guts. His whole body was systematically squeezing, trying to expel something out of a part of himself that he didn't possess. The pain was psychological, but it certainly felt real, and he had to remember to breathe.
Astarion knelt beside him and held him by the shoulders. Panicked words of distress and concern fell out of his mouth. The physical pain was superficial compared to the realization of what he'd done.
The spell broken, Eletha relaxed. With chilling efficiency, she sheathed her sword.
She looked down at Quynn and the superficial wounds he sustained. They were his own fault, failing to correctly guard against her glancing blows that were only meant to tire and confuse him.
For the briefest of moments, she thought about offering him comfort, like she might any of her friends.
If only his face didn't remind her of his. If only he looked like a stranger to her. Maybe she could treat him the same as those children running around trying to save the world, if she didn't look at him and know that he came from her.
Quynn looked up at her with those big blue eyes, her eyes. The same sad eyes, with the same sad questions, that she looked up at her cold parents with.
Why don't you love me? Why am I not enough? What did I do wrong?
Looking at him made her sick. She could taste the acid coming up her throat.
But unlike her mother, she wouldn't say that to him. In this way, she could be just a little better than the people who made her a monster.
Without a word or even a gesture, she left.
"Are you alright?" Astarion fussed with Gale, holding his bearded face in his hands so he could look into his eyes as he'd seen the healers do to the others from time to time.
Seeing his concern, Gale recovered his bearings and composure. "It was merely... the tadpole. I felt her pain... It broke her free."
His eyes looked across the room, searching for what concerned him. Quynn appeared physically fine, but remained on the cold stone floor where he landed after Mellia shoved him aside. Refusing to get up, he stared at the pool of quickly-coagulating blood sitting where his own should be.
Screwing his eyes shut, Gale turned his face away.
"She'll never forgive me," Gale told Astarion quietly in the little huddle they made with just the two of them. "I should have knocked her off balance with some other spell."
Astarion shook his head. "It was the best option."
"Perhaps. But of all the spells I know..." To use one of the tools of her torture, that left permanent scars on her psyche, was to betray her. Once again she felt trapped in herself and she repaid him with the memory of her pain.
Annoyance disrupted the reassuring tone of Astarion's voice. "You saw her. She was going to kill him. Would she have been better off if she had?"
"You should... talk to him." Astarion barked, the laughter coming not from amusement but surprise. Then Gale's brown eyes turned big and watery. His lip almost trembled.
Uncertainly, trying to be flippant, Astarion asked, "What could I even say?"
"He wants you to see him. That's all you need to do."
Gale squeezed his hand and watched as Astarion, on unsure feet, walked over to where Heilar was trying to get Quynn to stand up. He only managed to look up into Astarion's face. Blue eyes wide, it was unclear whether he was still in shock or in awe of him.
"You're... really him."
The statement caught Astarion off guard. "I'm not sure who else I would be."
Quynn took a moment to swallow his spit, his throat feeling suddenly dry and his hands clammy. "It's just... I've heard so much about you."
At this, Astarion knew to give a light chuckle. "All of them dazzling and mesmerizing, I hope. But, you may as well forget it all. Not even I know whatever stories you've been told."
"Right..." Quynn looked away, sadness bleeding in. His eyes landed on the puddle of black blood once more. "That woman..."
At first Astarion thought he meant Eletha. Then his eyebrows shot up in realization. "Oh! You mean the other one. She'll be fine. We vampires are notoriously hard to get rid of. Like bed bugs, really."
"A vam-" Quynn's mouth snapped shut. Right. Heilar had told him that already. "I've yet to hunt one."
Mischief glittered in Astarion's red eyes. "Ah, a little monster hunter, are we?"
It was, surprisingly, easy to have a conversation with the young man. Perhaps because Astarion hadn't seen his reflection in over 200 years. But it still nagged him, the knowledge that they shared blood.
Astarion certainly wasn't ready to be a father, but maybe they could be... friends. Of a sort. They probably wouldn't be seeing each other very often, but the boy had about 500 years left if something didn't kill him first.
"This doesn't... feelthe way I thought it would," Quynn admitted, hanging his head in shame. Almost as if there was a bit of Gale in there, inheriting the sad-dog look.
"I've only known her for a few months and I am sorry to say: your mother is cracked. Cracked, scrambled, and fried. They really did a number on her." From behind, Gale cleared his throat pointedly. Properly chagrined, Astarion went on, "Right. That's probably not terribly comforting..."
"It's... fine." After a deep breath, Quynn finally got off the floor and wiped his hands clean on his pants.
Then he offered his right hand to Astarion.
Astarion leaned away a little, looking at it with confusion before flicking his eyes up to Quynn's face to search for motive.
"I know you don't remember your life before," Quynn stated firmly, although it obviously hurt a little to say, "and you didn't choose to ignore me. Saying 'I forgive you' doesn't really make much sense but... I forgive you."
Hesitantly, Astarion clasped Quynn's hand. "Thank you... I suppose."
"What do you mean by 'you didn't choose to ignore me?'" Gale asked as he approached.
Quynn regarded him with wide surprised eyes. "From his journal. It's pretty obvious he thought I was a lie used to get him back."
"I don't have a journal."
To prove him wrong, Quynn took his satchel from Heilar and produced a worn book. "She left this. In the graveyard."
Astarion took it. A piece of his old life, his own words, in his hands.
"I guess I should thank you for leaving without her. I wouldn't be here if you had. Still... I'm sorry things ended up the way they did."
Running his fingers over the textured leather cover, he could only think to say, "The gods and their cruel jokes..."
"We should go find Eletha," Gale told him, placing a hand on Astarion's shoulder. Glancing at Heilar before looking Quynn in the eye, he added, "The time to leave the city is drawing to a close. You should leave while you can."
It wasn't quite clear if that sank in finally, but Quynn nodded. Body half-turned away, he looked back at them, eyes ablaze. "If anyone is going to save this place... It'll be you."
As Quynn and Heilar left the room, Nei-Fonn walked in, a piece of bread hanging out of her mouth. Removing it, she gave everyone a questioning glance. "Did I miss something?"
Astarion and Gale suddenly remembered that there were other people in the room.
"Right, we should leave," Astarion whispered to Gale furtively as he took the mage's hand and dragged him along.
"Wait!" Aluin stopped them before they could exit the hideout. Catching up to them, he held out a pendant.
Upon closer inspection, it wasn't really a pendant. It was a silver button on a string.
"You can find her with this," he explained respectfully.
Gale took it and, rolling the button between his fingers, smirked in his knowing manner. "Yes, quite a simple-"
"Gale," Astarion interrupted with exasperation, "we don't have time for your smug superiority."
"I am being neither smug nor-" Gale started to argue, brows furrowed, until he looked at Aluin. The man was older than him, but he never really noticed. In fact, he barely ever noticed him at all.
Aluin smiled gently. "You should go find her. The ballad needs all of its notes for the final chord."
Astarion and Gale spent most of the night following the button as it wobbled in the vague direction of wherever Eletha had gone.
"That was probably... the best that could have gone. You agree?" Astarion asked him after enough time had passed to really let it sink in.
"Could have gone worse. She could have killed him."
"Would that have been so bad?" A rare hard glare from Gale made Astarion clarify, "I'm only joking."
"You really feel nothing?"
"I feel something," Astarion answered with a heavy sigh. "Just because I'm a vampire doesn't make me heartless."
"Being Astarion makes you heartless," Gale muttered under his breath, watching as the button in his palm rolled to face a different direction.
"Oh, good, you understand." Some time passed before he felt ready to speak again. "I suppose I'm about as paternal as Eletha is maternal. Although, I probably wouldn't have opted for 'fighting to the death' to close a family reunion..."
"Your family proves once more to be quite dramatic." They were getting closer to the shore of the Chionthar. The arc of the button's roll began to narrow. "Are you going to read it?"
"Read what?" Astarion asked, confused, taken out of his thoughts.
"Your journal."
Astarion waved the thought away. "Oh. Well. Perhaps another time."
"Then can I read it?"
"If you must." With a small amount of annoyance, Astarion removed the old journal and smacked it against Gale's chest. After making the button in his hand glow for light, the wizard started to read and guide them at the same time.
They stopped on a long strand of beach, empty save for the surf and the detritus it deposited in the rocky sand.
"You do not think she-" Gale started uncertainly, fear chilling his heart. Then Astarion pointed down the beach some ways towards what Gale had dismissed as a large rock.
"Good thing one of us has darkvision," he said smugly before heading off in that direction. Gale stuffed the unneeded button in a pocket and followed suit.
Kneeling in the wet sand, Eletha didn't appear to be doing anything strange, which was a small relief. Maybe she'd worn herself out by the time they caught up.
But as they drew nearer, her voice started to cut through the sound of the surf.
"Lorelai will behave. Laia will be good," she said to herself, her voice hollow and rough. Closer now, Gale could tell that she was rocking back and forth. "Laia only speaks when spoken to. Laia does as she's told."
"Who's 'Laia'?" Astarion asked, more to Gale than Eletha, who hadn't registered their presence yet.
"The name the others called her, which she hated," Gale explained matter-of-factly. More emotionally, he added, "Your old self used it as a pass-phrase, to determine that your parents were intercepting your attempts to contact her."
At the sound of his voice, Eletha turned to them. In the barest moonlight, her large eyes shone.
"I am a good girl," she insisted, reaching forward to catch the edge of Gale's robe. "I'm sorry for what I did. I promise to be good."
"Where have I heard this before?" Astarion asked himself under his breath as Gale lowered himself, wincing as his knees complained.
"Your name is Eletha Nightstar. We're in Baldur's Gate," he told her emphatically, slowly so she could hear the words properly. "I am sorry, for casting that spell."
"Please. Put me back," Eletha pleaded, gripping his robe tighter. "I can't do this anymore. If you put me back, I'll be good, I promise."
"I won't do that, my love." Heart breaking, Gale tried to remove her hands from his clothing before she could tear it. "Everything will be okay, just come back with us and get some rest."
"Cast the spell, put me back!" she begged, tears glittering in the moonlight. Letting go of his robe, she still pressed, "I'll do whatever you want, just make it stop! Please!"
"Look at me!" Astarion commanded with a snap of his finger. Eletha turned her attention to him like an obedient dog.
At first, Gale thought he was angry, his previous annoyance bubbling over like it tended to do. But there was a playfulness to the way Astarion stood and spoke.
"You'll do whatever I want, hm? You've always done what Astarion wanted, right? Well, right now, Prince Astarion wants you to dry your tears, tell Prince Gale that you forgive him for earlier, and then come back with us so we can go to sleep. Then, in the morning, you're going to have your head the right way around so we can deal with this Absolute nonsense." His commanding presence faded as he put his hands on his hips and added, "And after that, well, we'll figure that out when we get there."
It was as if a lever had been pulled. Astarion's words were just as good as any spell. Immediately, Eletha dried her tears on the back of her hand.
"It's okay, Gale." He half-expected her to call him 'prince' just as Astarion had.
"Is it really, or are you just doing what he says?" Gale asked, making intense eye contact, trying to find a hint of the truth in there.
"Stop poking holes in my plan," Astarion muttered, crossing his arms.
Eletha closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When it was all out and she took another to fuel her voice, she opened them again. "It was the right choice. You and Mellie saved him. I would have killed him if it wasn't for you. I forgive you."
"Well, I'm glad that's settled. Come along, darlings." Without waiting for them to stand, Astarion started back down the beach, trying and failing to whistle a tune he'd heard once.
"Why?" Gale asked her, grabbing one of her scuffed hands. He knew her well enough that he could tell that she'd let her guard down deliberately to allow Quynn a glancing blow.
"It would have been over," Eletha answered with extreme tiredness. "I would have done the worst thing possible in my life. I could throw my life away saving the city without regret... and my friends wouldn't have to miss me."
"I would have still missed you." Gale squeezed her hand tightly. "I don't believe that you wanted to kill him."
"I tried to. Before."
"But he's here. And you want him to be safe. That matters."
"Gale-" Her voice caught in her throat. "Please. Just once. I'm asking you to."
Unlike Quynn, Eletha knew how it felt to be held in a mage's complete control. It had broken her and yet, she longed to feel it again.
Except, this time, she had complete trust in the spellweaver.
"Impero tibi." This time, when his magic overpowered Eletha's will, the worm did not fight back. It almost... welcomed it. Stroking back her hair, only to have it spring up again, Gale commanded her, "Suffer no longer. Let us take you home, where it is safe, and we can prepare for the difficult journey that still lies ahead."
Wordlessly, Eletha stood and helped Gale to his feet. Hand on his elbow, she walked beside him. Where cobblestones met sandy dirt, they caught up with Astarion.
"About time," he said with a huff. "I need a massive glass of wine after today."
With a twinkle in his eye, Gale smiled. "I couldn't agree more."
Somewhere along the road back, the spell wore off. Gale felt Eletha's hand loosen on his elbow before squeezing it again.
"Is everything alright?" he whispered to her.
"For a few minutes, I was at peace," she answered. "Enough that I could screw my head back on. Now, for the rest of His Highness's commands."
Gently, Gale adjusted her hand on his elbow, so that they looked less like an old man and his nurse and more like a couple taking a leisurely stroll through the dangerous dark streets of Baldur's Gate at night.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Story Synopsis: Eletha Nightstar has been wandering Faerun for over 200 years hunting, making strange friends, and occasionally getting in (and out) of trouble. Now she faces her biggest adventure yet: avoiding ceremorphosis, becoming friends with a bunch of weirdos, and, oh yeah, dealing with her ex who has no idea who she is.
Main Pairings: Astarion/Female Elf Tav, Astarion/Gale, Gale/Female Elf Tav (It's a poly thing, not a 'love angle')
With the barest touch, Eletha stroked the leather cover of the journal in her lap. Feeling its texture, she prepared herself to open it and put the final nail in Lorelai's coffin.
Aluin and Melliana pestered her as she walked off with their findings. It was clear they felt she shouldn't be alone for this, but she had to be.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
To see the familiar Elven script, faded as it was, proved enough to move her to tears in the Szarr Palace gardens. Its twisted, unkempt nature made her feel safe. Hidden. So she wept, but silently.
Managing to get herself together, ashamed of how easily the emotion burst forth, she opened the long-forgotten journal of Astarion Ancunín, the once bright-eyed hopeful adventurer who set out for Baldur's Gate. Stashed away under some floorboards covered in centuries of dust, it was a small wonder that it survived the test of time and vermin.
Lori always wrote in her journal like she was speaking to someone. I suppose that is how this works? Frankly, it sounds idiotic. Who am I speaking to— the book? She gave me the damn thing, so might as well use it.
I am sick of these stupid trees. And the dirt. A caravan cannot contain the entirety of what I want for my life. So I have decided to leave, once and for all.
I don't understand how Lori has endured it for so long. They treat the hounds better than her. She may as well be their pet whipping-goblin. No matter how much I told her to leave, she stayed, with that sad look in her eyes. The most beautiful blue, twinkling just for me.
I suppose she stays for me. Thinks I need her. I do, but not the way she believes. Not to bark at my enemies or place herself between me and danger. I have never found the words to make her believe that I truly love her. That I want to stand between her and danger too.
Perhaps I should have asked her to leave, but I still feel that she must choose to do so, like I did. In all honesty, it is more likely that they will run her off or send her to bring me back.
Besides— I cannot pass up the chance at one last chase. There is little more exciting than having that bloodhound on my tail, that flash of rage in her eyes right before she sighs in relief to see me. Such a sweet sound from her lips.
Eletha shuddered, angry and disappointed. That was it? The whole sad truth of their fate? Astarion wanted her to choose to leave, while she hesitated until the option was stolen from her?
The girl she used to be always wondered if he really loved her or if it was a game. Her whole life up to his disappearance, she had no worth except as his protector. So many nights she lay awake, wondering if she was just practice like her parents said.
Astarion was horrible at keeping a journal, leaving out dates and stopping in the middle of thoughts. Occasionally he took the time to draw something, usually some bit of fashion. There was even evidence of a flower having been pressed between two pages.
Where is she? I have never made it so easy for Lori to catch up.
With her extensive knowledge of the land between the Sword Coast and the Dalelands, Eletha determined that Astarion had added an extra week to his travels. Assuming Astarion was being accurate when writing things down.
I suppose I was wrong about Lori. That is hard to admit. We should be having this adventure together. But I will not turn back now.
By then, Lorelai was looking out through dull eyes at nothing, magicked into a stupor, but not yet fully controlled.
If she tried hard enough, Eletha could still remember the taste of her blood as it poured over her tongue, the sharp sensation of her teeth cutting into it.
Astarion's mother had stopped her when she finally decided to try a sending. It no longer mattered that maybe Astarion had abandoned her; he'd become her only hope of escaping.
Heilar found her. Stopped her from dying. Then her life became a thick haze.
Am I really this pathetic? For the first time, I don't know what to do. If only she was here, my beautiful bloodthirsty beast…
Folded over and stuck in a pocket of the journal were slips of paper, their messages no longer than 25 words.
-----
Baldur's Gate, 1259.
An elf with golden eyes and bouncing platinum curls makes his way into the city after a long journey.
He arrives alone.
For 2 months, he braved the dangerous roads and survived the awful realities of sleeping on the ground more nights than no.
For 2 months, he has endured his parents' pesterings by sending. Every time, his heart sinks a little when he realizes it's not from his dearest friend.
After a month, they try to impersonate her, hoping that her supposed heartbreak can bring him back. But they don't know that he would never call her 'Laia' like the others do and so they fail to send back strings of vitriol.
Every time he calls his Lori by her hated nickname, he offers up an uncharacteristic prayer that she will verbally abuse him for it.
When their desperation peaked, when they learned that he finally reached his goal, they made their final plea.
Lorelai is with child. Come home. Your place is here with us.
Absolutely ridiculous. They were far too young and the chance was already slim.
Besides, Lorelai wouldn't stand for it. The way she turned as white as her hair when the rare infant cried. He'd stolen her journals on a whim and aimed to laugh his way through the silly ramblings of a child, only to have his mood soured by guilt.
No, it was a ploy, and he told them, in no uncertain terms, to go fuck themselves. The only person he wanted to hear from was Lori.
Astarion didn't rightly have an explanation for everything. It was obvious that their families were lying to try to get him back. There was no doubt in his mind that not a single word that reached him came from Lorelai. But he had no idea where she was and why, when he tried to send to her, he only received silence or a message constructed by one of their parents in an attempt to mimic her.
An adventurer he aimed to become and so he occupied his time reaching those ends. Becoming an adventurer was difficult, it turned out, and Astarion never had a plan for how it'd work, especially without his loyal companion. Maybe not-so-loyal…
Astarion was clever, but people in the city could tell he didn't belong. It was a slap in the face when his charms, which could get anyone in their little clan to do whatever he said, didn't work. After a little research involving voraciously reading anything that could even remotely be considered literature, he was able to sweet-talk his way out of and into quite a few situations.
At the time, he wouldn't have admitted it, but his beauty did a lot of the heavy lifting.
With enough experience, he could talk his way out of brush-ins with the law. Sometimes he'd find his way into fancy parties and unburden the well-to-do of their riches.
Eventually, he was introduced to Cazador Szarr. He had no idea who, or what, he was and was blissfully unaware that Cazador knew of him long before their meeting.
When Cazador made his proposal, that he could pull some strings to get Astarion a magistrate position in exchange for some favors, Astarion was on the cusp of feeling sorry for himself. Baldur's Gate wasn't really working out the way he'd hoped and there was still no sign of Lorelai.
Only a few weeks before, he'd gotten angry and bitter about that. Angry and bitter enough to go out and do something stupid, like find his way into some lord's bed. He'd always wondered what it'd be like. In the end, he found that he just missed Lori.
Not long after, that same lord made an offer to "keep" Astarion in a manner better than what he was accustomed to. At first, Astarion refused, still believing he had it in him to be a real adventurer.
He was mulling that offer when Cazador approached him.
Being a magistrate sounded a lot better than essentially being a whore.
Astarion hadn't heard from his family in months and he'd nearly forgotten them. A part of him still held out hope that one day, Lorelai would walk through his chamber doors and whisk him away to a real adventure.
That was, until a letter found him. A real letter. With postage and everything. Handed from courier to courier, all the way from Highmoon to Baldur's Gate.
Lorelai was dead. He had a son, they named him Arael. They wanted him to come home. He needed to come home. They tried to reason with him, but the only one who could do that was Lorelai.
For a whole week, in every possible moment, he tried to send to her. It echoed back as if the magic was hitting a hard wall. It did not pass through, leaving him to wait with anxiety like before, only to receive his parents' words.
Astarion could only assume that they were telling the truth. His Lori was dead. Or, at the very least, he was dead to her.
He couldn't bear it. She never loved him. If she had, she would have come. For all that time, he'd merely been a burden to her. Her meddlesome charge. A source of pain.
No, he wrote in his journal. Lori has always loved me, most ardently. With the fire of her entire being. She is surely dead. Dead from grief. I did this to her.
When he finally learned what Cazador Szarr was, he begged to be turned. The vampire's lips curled into a wicked smirk as he asked why, expecting the usual pleas for power or to never fear death, only to be told that Astarion wished to live long enough to find his truest love's soul when it came into the world again.
Cazador had made him wait 8 more years. Astarion had to prove his worth, his usefulness. There was still more he needed his little puppet to do.
Astarion could hear her voice in his head, telling him he was stupid and foolish. Before throwing his life away to be a vampire spawn, hinging on the hope that his master would turn him into a true vampire one day, he should have gone home. Gone looking for her. To see her bones for himself. Maybe they were telling the truth and there really was a little elf running around without a mother, wondering where his father was.
Tired of their lies, he sent them one last message: if he found out that they hurt even a single hair on her head, he would come home, but only to slaughter the lot of him.
The elaborate revenge fantasy only entertained him for another year before he lost himself in a hedonistic fall from grace.
There wasn't very far to fall, but still.
Unaware of it, Astarion spent the first years of his spawn existence as a sorry wretch, feral and ghastly. That creature was happy to accept the paltry morsels Cazador afforded him.
For whatever reason, to torture him or to follow more nuanced orders, Cazador gave him back his consciousness.
It took him a while, but Astarion eventually remembered who he was, remembered where his things were stashed away at the Elfsong. And he clung to those memories as hard as he could.
And then he slipped up, getting caught trying one last desperate sending to someone he thought was dead. Someone, he wouldn't realize, who had forgiven him enough to undo the magical block keeping him from contacting her. Someone who would have ran all the way to Baldur's Gate without stopping just to see him.
-----
Eletha rubbed a blue ribbon in between her thumb and forefinger as she made her way back to the Elfsong. Despite its age, despite being lost and forgotten in the back of Cazador's desk where Aluin found it, it was as strong as the day she'd gifted it to Astarion. Preservation had been her first lesson in magic, the only thing her parents ever taught her.
Woven into the blue silk with silver thread was an oath to always protect its wearer.
Thank the gods she wasn't a paladin.
From his journal, Eletha was able to piece together most of what happened in Baldur's Gate so long ago. Astarion hadn't been very good at writing down dates and wasn't as studious about keeping the journal as she had been.
When she got back to the tavern, she was grateful to not run into any of her companions. She chose to sit on the roof, where she hung her legs over the ledge and her head down to cry.
It was all so stupid.
The pendant of Calm Emotions that still pressed against her skin under her tunic blinked and then faded.
Not long after she found her seat did a figure slip into the shadows behind her, watching as she put a hand over her mouth to muffle her sadness.
-----
The next morning, Astarion and Gale came out of their shared room with the coy flirty smiles of two lovers recalling a wonderful evening spent together.
A few of their companions rolled their eyes.
While Astarion went to get ready for the day, Gale sat down next to Eletha, who was idly picking at her breakfast and reading some letters that came for her.
"Is everything alright, my love?" he asked after watching her for a few moments. She looked tired, but that was all he could glean.
"The world's in danger, Gale," she answered somewhere between matter-of-factly and jokingly.
"Well, yes, but that is not my immediate concern."
Eletha raised an eyebrow as she slowly put a piece of fruit in her mouth and started chewing in an almost threatening manner.
Sometime in the night, he decided to not bring up Quynn. There were probably a hundred ways that conversation could go wrong.
"I… saw that you were quite upset, before Astarion whisked me away."
"The princeling certainly looked satisfied this morning. Good work," Eletha praised, giving his knee a firm pat before turning her attention back to her letters and food.
"Thank you, but you didn't answer my question."
With his soulful brown eyes, Gale watched as she carefully put down her fork. So carefully, it appeared ritualistic. It had to be perfectly aligned with the knife and spoon that lay on a napkin before she would leave it alone.
"Serendipity." It was said so softly, that Gale barely heard it. "What is its opposite, I wonder?"
Gale hummed gently. "I would assume 'misfortune,' no?"
"It doesn't really hold the same weight, though, does it?" Eletha tilted her head to the side, her gaze hundreds of years away, but not that far. "No, we need a word for it. The inexplicable string of bad luck and poor decisions that mean we are here and not there."
Silence befell them as her words sank in. Eventually, Gale placed a hand on her arm. "I don't understand. But I want to."
Eletha looked at his hand as if it was a strange bug that landed there. He was about to take it back when she placed her other hand on top of his.
"I'm not an easy person to be with," Eletha admitted solemnly. Every time she felt that he was disappointed in her, it was as if she was waking up in that glade alone all over again. "I never have been. Maybe I never will be."
Gale's heart sank into his stomach. "Is this your way of saying that what we have is over?"
"It means… that I want to be better." Eletha looked him in the eyes for a moment before looking away, clearly ashamed. "But I don't know that I can be. I feel every year of my soul. I'm… tired. Worn thin. Brittle."
"Heeeyyyy… cap'n?" Karlach interrupted as Eletha stared at nothing and Gale tried to not let his emotions get the best of him.
At Karlach's words, life sparked in Eletha's eyes. She even sat up straighter. No one would be able to tell that she'd just admitted to someone that loved her, that she loved back, that she wanted to lay down and die already.
"Yes, darling?" Eletha asked her sweetly, the way she spoke to the younger people who looked up to her. It was as if a lever was pulled and everything that was bothering her fell down a trapdoor.
"I noticed that my parents are buried nearby. Could we take a moment to visit them today?" Karlach asked nervously, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
"Of course. How could I say no?"
With that, Eletha stood up, ready to get on with their day. Karlach walked away, but Gale held Eletha's hand in a firm grip. Looking up at her, he pleaded, "I think it wise that you stay back."
He didn't have to explain. Eletha gave his hand a squeeze before slipping it from his grasp.
In the graveyard, Eletha became one of the statues, a monument to death and grief. While Karlach spoke to headstones, Eletha stared at another one nearby.
Well, Gale had been right. It was wise that she stay back.
"My love, it's not-" Astarion started to explain, coming up behind her shoulder once he noticed what she was doing.
She managed to bite off the words, "I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
"When have I ever?" she asked, deadpan, before walking away.
That was the truth.
Later that evening, she wasn't back for dinner. Nor their semi-standard pre-bed reading session. Or to offer Astarion a little bit of clean blood. There was even a stack of unopened messages for her sitting on her nightstand.
It wasn't hard to figure out where she'd be. Astarion only hesitated long enough to consider whether or not it was in his best interest to go and fetch her.
"I like a chase, but really," he complained in Gale's general direction.
"I am not sure I would call this a 'chase.'" Gale didn't feel good about it, but he already decided that he would take a step back this time. "Some people… do not handle loss very well."
"I suppose it's my job to go and fetch her." Astarion sighed as he swung his feet off the bed and started putting on his boots.
"What we have is good, right?" Gale asked the room, laying his book on his chest so he could stare up at the ceiling.
Fear chilled Astarion's already-cold heart. "Have I given you reason to believe it isn't?"
"No, of course not." Setting aside the book, Gale sat up and leaned over to hold one of Astarion's hands in his. "I merely felt the need to ask. If Eletha… ran off, so to speak, would you still want to be with me?"
"If I did something that made her leave and you chose to stay…" That hurt to think about. "Then yes. I would still want to be with you."
"If it helps… I think she loves you. Very deeply. And that she wants you to be happy, even if that means you never see her again."
Astarion's hand soaked up Gale's warmth as he soaked up his words. "I think she loves you too. Because she would be an idiot not to."
"You should go," Gale said with a smile, taking back his hands so Astarion could put on his boots. "Before she does something stupid. Only you are allowed to do that."
----
Astarion found Eletha doing something very much stupid.
The air reeked of dirt. It was strewn about in great clods, held together by what little grass could grow in the cemetery.
Somehow, with just her bare hands, Eletha managed to dig deep enough that she sank to her hip when kneeling in front of his headstone. Black earth covered her hands, her clothes. It streaked down her face, cleaned away by rivulets of tears.
The real wonder was how no one had noticed and stopped her already.
Her voice was hoarse from the unrestrained sobbing and strangled cries. "I'm sorry," "I forgive you," and "I miss you so much" were common repeated phrases he could hear. Astarion thought about finally approaching and making her stop making a spectacle of herself when she took in a long shuddering breath.
"I know. I know that I'm making this about me when it should be about you. But I can't stop thinking about you. It won't stop," she told the headstone, a gut-wrenching pain in her voice. Astarion stopped breathing for fear that she might hear him and stop.
"You meant so much to me. I have to leave you behind. I know that I need to stop hoping that you'll come back. He is you… and he's not. I can't tell… Can't tell if I'm lying to myself. That I see you in him, or…"
Eletha took another breath and dirtied her face with her hands as she tried to wipe away her tears.
"I don't want you to be gone. Because what am I? Without you?"
Anger flashed in Astarion's heart, only to be replaced with… pride? Did her sorry words really stroke his ego?
"200 years and I don't know what to do without you. You were all I had.
"So many people… love me… and I'm selfish and can't accept it… I can't accept it because you're gone.
"I want to be better. Move on. But I can't. I try so hard it hurts. It hurts so much."
Every word sounded as if it was driving iron nails into her body. There was no denying the pain she felt.
"I just want you back. But I love him. And I love Gale. I love all of them so much and it hurts because you are gone. I can't do this without you. I… I need your stupid jokes and annoying tricks and pilfered treats. I need that boy who loved me when my whole world hated me. I don't-... I can't-... I can't."
The flame consuming Eletha's insides threatened to burst her heart and spill out of her mouth like lava. Every fiber of her burned, as taut as drawn bowstrings.
Astarion watched as her hands plunged back into the dirt beneath her knees, the same dirt he'd clawed his way out of so long ago. Without reason, she ripped it up and threw it around her, searching frantically.
Tears streamed down her grief-ridden face as she brought a wet mass of earth, pebbles, and worms to her lips. Eletha managed to wrap her teeth around it before Astarion leapt from his hiding spot, reaching out to rip away her meal.
"No!" she cried, the words pushed out after he forced her to spit out the clump of dirt. She pleaded like a mother trying to throw herself on her child's funeral pyre.
It made him sick to see.
"Just let me be with him! One more time! He's here!"
"You're right, Eletha, he's gone! He's not there! No one is there! It's just dirt, you filthy creature! Whatever is left of him, is here," Astarion cried back at her, a hand to his chest.
Eyes almost as red as his, she looked up at him. In an instant, her filthy hands were in his curls, controlling his head. Their lips met in a fierce and unwanted kiss.
It tasted like gravedirt. His gravedirt.
Astarion's stomach churned. The pleasurable sound she made was obviously forced out from her throat, a weak mimicry of true love. With a little more strength than he probably needed, he pushed her away, causing her to fall back into the dirt she dug up.
"What is wrong with you?" he yelled at her, his eyes ablaze. "Have you lost all of your senses?"
Eletha hid her face in her filthy hands. Pathetically, in a sloppy voice that couldn't have possibly come from someone like her, she pleaded, "I love you so much."
"Do you?" he growled at her, the sight of her simpering both foul and heartbreaking. "Because it seems to me that you are having trouble with the concept that I am not the person you think I am.
"A few months ago, I wouldn't have known you from a hole in the ground.
"Just another mark.
"You are a stranger."
The night air was filled with her heavy gut-wrenching sobs.
"I'm sorry," she managed despite the pain twisting her guts. She repeated it in Elvish, over and over.
In a huff, Astarion stood. It was clear that the only thing he could do was leave her to water his grave with tears like the heartbroken widow she was.
Alone, Eletha repeated his name over and over again in a prayer.
Taking up her sword, thrown before his headstone in offering, she begged to be told what to do.
----
Upon Astarion's return to their room, Gale sat up, bleary-eyed but conscious enough.
"What's wrong?" he asked as Astarion stood at the basin to rinse the dirt out of his mouth and off of his face.
"I used to fantasize about being worshipped like a god," he answered with annoyance, and just a dash of disappointment. "It doesn't feel the way I thought it would."
Standing, Gale took his lover's hands and washed them himself while Astarion told him what happened in the graveyard.
"Who I was is gone," Astarion reiterated as he sat down beside Gale on his bed. "There was a time when that hurt, as if Cazador scraped out my insides and left me hollow…
"Just when I thought I could be free of that, take that first step to be myself…" Astarion trailed off, clearly angry. With just a touch, Gale encouraged him to continue. "I… hate her. For seeing him instead of me… Making me fall in love with her while she loves a ghost. Acting as if she knows me and being right when I hardly know myself.
"I hate her for being broken. They broke her and the person I was let it happen. He watched them hurt her, perhaps just as badly as Cazador hurt me. He had all the power to stop them and chose not to. He chose to run."
Gale's big brown eyes became impossibly bigger with the pain weighing down his heart. "You were young. You had no way of knowing. That is the past."
By the way he kept talking, Astarion didn't hear him at all. "If he had taken her with him, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be Astarion the Vampire Spawn. I wouldn't have thousands of deaths attached to my immortal soul. I could have enjoyed the sunlight, for all this time.
"But then… I wouldn't be me. She wouldn't be her.
"I… I broke her. But that wasn't… me. But it was. The part that… tells bad jokes and plays silly tricks. That fusses with his appearance. That longs to stare at himself in a mirror. He's still… in me…"
"You are Astarion. That's all that matters."
Tears welled up in ruby-red eyes. A lump formed in his beautiful throat. "So am I responsible, or not?"
Gale sighed deeply. "Whether or not… you or he are two separate entities, with two disjoint histories… There is no Astarion responsible for what those people chose to do to her."
"But…"
A smile made its way onto Gale's lips, but it wasn't exactly mirthful. It was there to spite all the doom and gloom surrounding them.
"The young man spying on us the last few days? Yes, I suppose you are a bit responsible… Honestly, a bit of a miracle if you think about it. Maybe a god out there hates you both.
"Maybe with some magic and time, you could remember. But in the end, I don't think that changes anything."
A few moments of silence passed as Gale's words of wisdom sank in.
Uncertainly, quietly, Astarion asked, "If I remembered, would it change who I am?"
"I think only experiencing it would tell." Astarion was silent once more, feeling… scared. To change? Again? "Everyone is changing. All the time. I am not the man I was before the orb. I am not even the man I was before we met."
"Not her. She's… stuck. In time. In that moment, when she woke up alone."
"Surprisingly poignant..." Gale hesitantly, out of consideration for Astarion, touched his shoulder. The urge to plant a reassuring kiss on the other's lips made itself known, but he could sense that Astarion was pulling away from that new-gained affection.
His cheeks glittered with beads of tears as they became too much for his eyes.
Wiping them away, Astarion chastised himself for his weakness. "This isn't the time for this. We have a city- a world- to save. This isn't how heroes act."
In the morning, Eletha suggested they take the day to gather their strength and, if her calculations and Gale were right, let her ride out the effects of her curse without turning her armor to ash in the middle of a fight.
Everyone agreed. No one said aloud what they were all thinking; Astarion, Eletha, and Gale would probably do well to get some rest after last night’s activities.
After looking over his clothes and armor for holes needing mending, Astarion decided to bother their noble leader.
“So… That was fun,” he cooed in the privacy of her tent, chin in hand as he watched her own mending efforts.
“If you’re looking for more, go bother Gale.”
“Oh? Was it not as blissful for you as it sounded?”
“You two ran me ragged. I nearly pissed fire this morning.”
“I’m sorry. Can I make it up to you somehow?”
Eletha stared at him. Analyzing his tone, the look in his eyes… Her initial instinct was that he was being sarcastic. But after careful consideration, she found the offer sincere. It remained to be seen if he was up for whatever she asked.
“You know, I can’t feed you later,” she started off-handedly, tying off a stitch. “Would it help if you ate now?”
“My love, I just offered to do something for you.” His head wiggled a little as a smug little look lit up his face. “Are you into that sort of thing?”
Eletha looked at him and smiled.
“What?” he asked, disturbed.
She continued to smile. He shuddered.
“Stop that! You’re scaring me.”
Eletha chuckled, breaking from her little reverie. “Okay, okay.”
“I will take that blood, though.”
“I knew you would.”
Eletha took off her shirt and tossed it aside as she casually crawled into his lap. Trapped in her arms and legs, Astarion ran his lips over the soft skin of her neck before sinking his fangs into it. As he drank, she traced the spaces in between his scars and the notches in his spine.
Astarion hummed in pleasure before licking her blood off his lips. “Somehow, you taste better than ever before.”
Eletha withheld the joke that was on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she pressed him tighter to her. Feelings came up to the surface before being pushed back down. It was hard to separate him from all her precious memories, but she was trying.
“Are you quite alright?” he asked, a nervous laugh in his voice.
“I want to bury you in my heart, so you can never run away again.”
Well. She was trying. Some things were bound to slip through the cracks.
“So I can be a bird trapped in your gilded ribcage?” Amused, Astarion tittered as he lifted her out of his lap. “You’ve been spending too much time with vampires.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Hack, slash, stab. Wade through blood and gore.
Astarion’s complaints falling on deaf ears.
Eletha was numb to the world. Numb to the things unfolding around them.
Gale opened his mouth. She shut him up with just a look.
‘No blowing up,’ it said. ‘I will kill you before I let you blow up.’
In one long eternity, the world and its protectors continued on.
One evil defeated, only for more to pop up in its place. There was no celebration, not like after the goblins. Victory inspired little joy that day, or even the next.
Somewhere down the road, some arbitrary distance from those formerly-cursed lands, Eletha had them stop. She relieved Bonnet of her burden, undid the buckles of her harness, and crouched down beside her friend.
“Don’t take any of their shit, understand? For me?” she told the bear with a cocky smile as she pet her fur. Scratch and Pellet came up to say their goodbyes as well.
“Aww, yer leavin’?” Karlach asked, dejected. As a group, she, Halsin, Shadowheart, Wyll, and Gale, offered Bonnet their affections and well-wishes. Watching the bear lumber into the woods, Karlach asked Eletha, “Where’s she goin’?”
Eletha shrugged, but it was clear she wasn’t as cool about this as she was trying to appear. “Bear places, to do bear things, like make little bears.”
“The city is no place for such a noble creature. She belongs to the woods and mountains,” Halsin remarked with a fond smile. Perhaps he was not only talking about the bear.
When the sun started to set, they made camp. Eletha caught Astarion on the crest of a hill, looking out to the road ahead.
“Baldur’s Gate is right over the hills. And so is Cazador…” He went on with his grand notions of what was going on in the Szarr Palace.
Eletha processed what he said, but didn’t offer a response. Even his pauses went unfilled.
Irritated by this, he asked snippily, “Nothing to say?”
“Not really,” she answered dispassionately.
“I’ve laid out for you a grand plan to make me the most powerful vampire that ever lived and you have nothing to say?”
“I suppose this is how my friends felt, when I threw away all the progress I made.” It wasn’t really said to him. That didn’t mean it hurt his feelings any less.
“Nothing could hurt us. We’d be powerful. We’d be free,” Astarion pleaded with her, stepping closer, placing an emphatic hand on his chest.
This meant little to her.
“I’m not going to argue with you. Do what you think is best, Your Highness.”
Eletha turned to leave, but Astarion took hold of her arm, perhaps a little more roughly than he intended.
His red eyes flashed in the light of the sliver of moon in the sky.
“Don’t disregard me,” he commanded harshly, annoyed with her attitude.
Eletha looked down at his hand around her arm and then up into his face. He looked at it too and, as if her arm was a snake he’d mistakenly grabbed thinking it was a harmless vine, he let go.
“Good hunting,” Eletha told him before turning back towards camp.
There she joined the group gathered around the fire, sitting next to Gale on a seat he summoned just for her.
“I was just thinking about what we saw, under Moonrise,” Gale started, softly enough to not be speaking to the group as a whole but not a conspiratorial whisper. “The Crown of Karsus. They must be using it to control the Elder Brain. With the right knowledge, I could reforge it into-”
Eletha let him talk for as long as it took her to shove all of the food from her bowl into her mouth.
“Anyone else have plans to become the thing that hurt them?” she asked the group loudly, cutting Gale off in the middle of his musings. Everyone awkwardly moved food around or looked anywhere else but at her. It was clear that she wasn’t mad at them, but they weren’t about to get in the middle of whatever was about to happen.
“I don’t think you’re quite understanding me clearly,” Gale said with the kind of confident laugh you might give a child. Karlach sucked in a breath. “With the Crown, I wouldn’t rely on Mystra for protection from the Orb. I would have enough power and knowledge to solve all our problems. In essence, I could have the potential of a g-”
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Eletha interrupted, spoon clattering in her bowl, bowl clattering on the ground at her feet. “I think we should have a baby.”
“You- What?” Gale asked, bewildered, a bit of a blush rising on his cheeks.
“Yeah, I mean, why not? We’ll go find my kid, turn him over to the fae I made a deal with to reverse the whole procedure, and then we can have a baby. It’ll make everything better. There is no doubt in my mind that this plan would go well. No way it would blow up in our faces.”
Many emotions crossed Gale’s face.
“Ah. You’re making an obviously exaggerated simile in order to show me that I’m wrong. But there is a difference. You see-”
Eletha stood up and started walking away.
“Where are you going? I’m trying to explain!”
“I don’t think she wants an explanation,” Shadowheart answered for her, giving Gale one of her pitying looks.
“It’s a fool that chooses to close their ears,” Gale muttered angrily.
Wyll coughed.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A black cloud hung over Eletha’s head as they made their way to Baldur’s Gate. It was as if the curse clung to her, holding on for dear life. So in the name of scouting, she went out in front, far enough to be called but still alone.
When things picked back up, she slid back into her role as leader, no longer running off on her own.
“Is that it?” Gale asked after she’d shared some thoughts on their current situation. “You’re just going to pretend you haven’t been ignoring us for the past couple days?”
Eletha sighed. “This is why I didn’t want to get involved.”
“Can we just talk? Please?” he begged, pleading with his eyes.
“What’s the point? You’re going to try talking me into whatever insane thing I’m going to try talking you out of. Astarion wants to become King Bastard of All Vampires. I can’t wait to hear what crazy shit Wyll is gonna cook up later.”
“We can’t understand one another if we don’t talk.”
“I understand what you want. Independence from Mystra, enough power to bite your thumb at her. And you think that you can protect us, that nothing will hurt us, and you’ll never go to bed afraid of what tomorrow might bring. Astarion wants revenge, for his suffering to have meaning, and also protect us, to let nothing hurt us, to not be afraid.
“And maybe that’s okay, and if that’s what you want, then you have my blessing. But gods have rules. Even gods die- Your god died. No one is safe and we’re all afraid of something. I love you, I will always love you, but I’m not going to break myself at your altar to prove it.
“So can we just deal with all the other bullshit first?”
Gale was stunned into momentary speechlessness. Eventually, he managed to say, “I didn’t know you felt that way.”
“Yeah, well, I have a massive avoidance issue that I’m not exactly working on, so-” Eletha shrugged away whatever else was on her mind. “I love you. I’m sorry that I’ve been distant. It’s probably gonna happen again, no matter how much I try. I understand if you don’t want to deal with it.”
“We will… cross those bridges when we come to them,” Gale said finally, a sad smile on his lips. “I love you too.”
Eletha placed a kiss on his cheek. “I really am sorry.”
“I know. I think there’s someone else who needs to hear that too.”
“Yeah. I think you’re right.”
Eletha found Astarion a little bit away from everyone else, seemingly admiring the view of the city from afar.
“You wanna talk?” she asked after he didn’t acknowledge her obvious presence.
“I wanna stab you,” Astarion answered, smiling and laughing, but without mirth.
“Okay. Stab me, then.”
She hadn’t expected him to do it. Which probably attributed to her ability to just stare at the handle that sprouted from under her left set of ribs.
Judging by Astarion’s expression, he hadn’t been expecting to do it either.
“If you apologize, I’ll lose all respect for you,” Eletha said with a very careful laugh before he could say anything.
“Well. You deserve it,” he spat once he regained his composure.
“I’m sorry. For being a pain. I just… got afraid. Of losing you after I got you back.”
“I would be better.”
“But I love you now, I don't want you ‘better!’”
“Don't lie to me. You'd rather I was my ‘old self’ than I am now.”
“That's not true. Sure, I'd like it if you weren't a vampire so I could shove all your favorite foods in your mouth, and your hand would be warm, and I hate what happened to you, but I want you!”
“I am owed something better. I deserve the power Cazador so clearly wants. Does it not matter to you what I want?”
Eletha tried to take a deep breath, but winced. So preoccupied with their argument, she forgot her current injury.
“What you want matters, Astarion. When the time comes, if it's really what you want to do… I won't stop you. If it’ll make you happy, I won't stop you.” She didn't leave much of an opportunity for him to argue with her, as she started to walk away back towards camp. “This knife is mine now, by the way!”
Astarion huffed, even went so far as to stamp his foot and cross his arms in an attempt to look like he didn't care. Then he ran after her.
“I need that! You can't keep it!”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Baldur’s Gate.
Or, rather, Rivington, as their Baldurian teammates kept clarifying.
“Yeah, I wasn't missing much when I avoided this place,” Eletha remarked as they made their way through the crowded streets.
“It was a lot less desperate the last time I was here,” Astarion said, sneering at all of the refugees clogging the streets. “Well. A little.”
“Great,” Eletha muttered under her breath.
They were checking out the more run-down part of the Lower City when Lae’zel prickled. Her ears twitched and she sniffed the air like a scent dog.
“There are many people in this building. They lie in wait,” she warned, indicating the dilapidated building, its stones loose, its upper floors gone.
“Ooh, a surprise party?” Karlach said with a laugh, hefting her ax with both hands.
Wordlessly, Eletha moved forward towards the building, determining a way in. They went down some stairs into a secluded alley, made dark by the high walls.
Hand on the stone, she stopped. Her finger traced something she found there. Then she took a step back and inspected the wall around the door.
“They are through that door. I can hear them,” Lae’zel remarked, sword out.
Eletha’s normally stoic face went through several emotions. Anger, resignation, curiosity, and mirth.
“How many, you think?” she asked Lae’zel, as if they were observing a flock of birds in the sky.
“Perhaps nine.”
Much to everyone’s surprise, Eletha sheathed her sword.
“Sounds about right.”
Unceremoniously, she kicked in the door.
“What the fuck are you all doing?” she yelled into the room, clearly annoyed.
There were, in fact, nine people gathered in the room, standing around a long table covered in maps and books and other things.
Standing to the side was an Elven woman, her night-black hair making her pale skin almost white in comparison. She had piercing red eyes rimmed with red makeup. Her lips were of a similar blood-red; her top lip would pull at the black ball of a piercing, almost like a nervous habit. She was dressed in robes of black and red with silver stitching and her long hair cascaded down her back. This was Eletha’s oldest friend, the vampire Melliana, more affectionately known as “Mellia” or sometimes “Mel.”
Next to her, lounging with a lute in his lap, was a half-drow with piercing ice-blue eyes. His mane of kinky white hair was pulled back by braids to create a halo of curls at the back of his head. His face was marked by yellow dots, highlighting his eyes, and he wore rings on his plush lower lip, giving him the impression of fangs. This was the bard Tyrlumin, often referred to as just “Lumin” or “Lu.”
In one corner were two figures of wildly different proportions. One was a halfling woman with rich umber skin and hard brown eyes. She had the bearing of a merchant, one annoyed with how things were going. This was Maephina Greensong, or “Mae,” a woman who often hired Eletha as a caravan guard.
Towering over her was an orc. A full orc. He stooped slightly in order to not bash his head on the ceiling. He appeared docile and subservient, probably owing to the crater in his skull. In his arms was a cat, held like a baby, seemingly asleep. This was Ravan, Maephina’s loyal bodyguard.
Huddled around the far end of the long table was a group of four, frozen in the middle of their discussion. They all appeared young and all but the dragonborn was bright-eyed.
One, in the middle of drawing something on a piece of parchment they hung from a rolling board, was a tiefling woman. Her skin was a reddish-brown and her eyes were bright green on black. Her horns were short spikes sweeping back over two braided buns that kept her black hair out of the way. She was large for her race, but not as large as Karlach. This was the paladin of Tyr, Zespira Hartford, sometimes called just “Zee.”
Leaning over the table inspecting some maps and notes was a human woman. She was petite, with golden skin and brilliant pale-green eyes made only more brilliant by her dark eyeliner. This was the thief, Nei-Fonn Shiaong.
Previously regarding the drawings Zespira was working on was a large human man. His skin was a bit darker, but he looked quite a bit like Nei-Fonn. The upper half of his face was decorated with dark face paint that mostly covered a burn scar. He had pale-brown eyes full of as much laughter as his face was full of metal. His jet-black straight hair was pulled back into a bun to keep it out of his face. This was Nei-Fonn’s brother, the barbarian Gin.
Next to Gin was the dragonborn, his scales green and eyes flaming red. He appeared bored, perhaps distracted, and barely registered Eletha’s sudden appearance until Gin tugged his arm and pointed towards her with a grin on his face. This was Gin’s boyfriend, the druid Venxiatel, also known as “Ven.”
That left the last occupant.
A human man sat at the near end of the table. His face looked molded from clay, the lines of age carefully carved into the surface. Brown eyes peered out from under dark brows with an intelligence that was swiftly replaced with absolute joy. Thick once-black hair was mostly white and gray, framing his face with a pointed beard and waves of hair. He didn’t exactly look like a deranged hermit, but he was not as particular about his appearance as most of those present. A few days without a comb and birds would be nesting on him.
In his hand was a plate with a large slice of cake, heavy with frosting. Judging by the many desserts that threatened to tip his side of the table, this wasn’t his first slice.
This was Aluin of Suzail, a wizard of very little renown, except in Eletha’s heart.
“You broke the door,” Mellia pointed out humorlessly, stepping further into the room and away from the sun. Tyrlumin chuckled and strummed a vicious chord that matched her attitude.
Ugh, bards.
Eletha stepped further in, allowing her party to enter the room and fan out to the sides.
“Did I shift into some alternate reality where I didn’t send out messages to literally everyone I know to stay away from this fucking place?” Eletha asked, waving away the complaint dismissively. “Or are all of you idiots?”
“We wanted to help!” Zespira piped up, a bright smile on her face, her fist punching the air.
Gods, kids.
“I had a very important delivery to make,” Maephina answered defensively. “Starkhammer told me about this place. Thought it would be the best place to lay low until this blows over. Can’t get out of the city now anyway…”
“Oh, so Brom’s here too. Great.”
“Lumin and I were already here,” Mellia remarked with a little dramatic sigh.
Fucking vampires.
“I came because they asked me to,” Aluin told Eletha gently, offering her his piece of cake. She declined it sweetly, smiling and encouraging him to eat it himself, calling him things like “sweetheart” and “dearest.”
“What are you doing in a dank, crumbling basement?” she asked the others, hands on hips, the picture of annoyed.
“Creating a secret society of adventurers, can’t you tell?” Tyrlumin answered with an easy, smug smile which needled her.
Eletha smacked her forehead with her palm and slid the hand down her face as she groaned. “Do I want to know?”
“Well, you are its leader, soooo-” The drow gave her a shrug and laughed with his lute.
“No,” Eletha said firmly, like telling a dog to stop what it’s doing.
“At first we were thinking ‘Queensguard’-” Zespira started, eyes sparkling with inspiration.
“But it’s too generic,” Nei-Fonn interrupted, straightening up.
“So we tried ‘Moonguard,’ but-”
“People might think we’re Selûnites,” Gin completed this time.
“So then, I suggested ‘Queen’s Shields’-” Zespira started and when no one interrupted she continued soberly, “because of your whole ‘sword and shield’ thing, but you don’t use a shield, and only I use a shield so far, so, that didn’t make sense?”
“‘The Shields’ would’ve been a cool moniker though,” Gin said despondently.
“So we landed on-”
Zespira flipped over the board to reveal drawings. Some were potential emblems, mostly involving stars, sometimes swords, but the worst of all, in Eletha’s eyes, was a side-profile portrait of an elf in what was probably supposed to be ceremonial armor, an Elven longsword held before her, her expression stoic, her face very much Eletha’s.
Above it were the words-
“No.”
“Order of the Wandering Star!” the four said in unison, although Gin had to elbow Ven to make sure he was paying attention.
Mellia and Lumin clapped, a look on their faces that said that they knew this was eating Eletha up inside but they were on board with the scheme.
“To be clear,” Maephina piped up, raising her hand, “I already belong to a society, but Rav wanted to join.”
Eletha’s face fell into her hands.
“We’ve invited others, but they couldn’t make it here in time,” Nei-Fonn explained, indicating a sheaf of messages. “It’s hard getting into the city.”
“It’s a good thing, Ellie,” Aluin told her, approaching carefully, tapping her shoulder gently with his wizened hand.
“Why?”
“To band together-”
“Why me?”
The room was silent.
The Order of the Wandering Star felt that this question had an obvious answer.
“Because you’re… you,” Zespira answered at last, nervously. “You’re, like… a real fucking adventurer. Like the kind gods fight over!”
Once again, Eletha was holding her head in her hands.
“Also, you know-” Tyrlumin paused and struck an intriguing chord “-the sword.”
“Fuck the holes you fell out of- Not you,” Eletha added, indicating Aluin, Maephina, and Ravan. “I thought I already heard the most insane thing ever, but I think this might actually be more insane than what I’ve gotten myself into these past few months.”
“Ellie-”
“No, Win. Listen to yourselves!” Aluin pulled away from her skittishly.
“I shared a story with you, that my family and clan were a bunch of fucking cultish weirdos who treated me like irredeemable garbage because my soul was ‘tainted’ and treated him” she indicated Astarion “like the second-coming of Corellon Larethian, or a fucking tulani, because he had gold eyes. And I shared with some of you once that I had a recurring vision of a specific longsword, and somehow you came up with the idea that I am the one who needs to be elevated to fucking” she indicated the portrait of her with a venomous flick of her hand “queendom?”
In the face of their queen and leader’s anger, they had nothing to say.
Eletha shook her head and turned towards the door.
Suddenly, Mellia appeared in her way, blocking the door.
“Not fair,” Eletha spat.
“Lovelies,” Mellia called out to the room’s other original occupants, ignoring her friend’s subtle threat, “perhaps you could go upstairs? Let the centenarians deal with this?”
Everyone but Eletha’s group and her oldest friends left.
Mellia grabbed Eletha before she could argue and they both appeared at the far side of the room. Eletha swatted her friend’s hand away.
“Stop being a brat,” Mellia told her, rolling her eyes before checking her nails to make sure none were broken or scuffed. “Be honored.”
“It’s not an honor, it’s fucking lunacy!”
“It’s just a little play-group. Filled with the people you’ve saved and inspired and brought together,” Mellia explained.
“Jaheira’s down some Harpers, let them be Harpers! That is a real adventurer group!” Eletha walked away to the sound of Mellia sighing wearily.
By the time Eletha got to the door, gesturing for her new friends to follow, it opened.
There stood a dwarf, his skin like the rich mud he was birthed from, his eyes gray like a cloudy sky. He was dressed opulently, like a merchant should be, with heavy golden bands decorating his beard. His name was Bromthrum Starkhammer.
In his large hands, which he stretched out reverently before him upon seeing her, was something long, covered by a thick velvet cloth.
“What’s that?” Eletha asked shakily, knowing the answer. She warded it away with a finger, taking a step back. “Nope. Throw that back into whatever fucking lake you got it from.”
“I couldn’t do that to such a beautiful sword!” Bromthrum cried, shaking the bundle so that the cloth fell open, revealing a marvelous longsword of legendary craftsmanship.
Wide-eyed, as if mesmerized by it, Eletha stared at the offered blade. Her hand reached for it automatically before she snatched it back.
“Look, it’s just a sword. It’s not special. I’m sure you can get a lotta gold for it from some dumb collector. I’m not what you think I am!”
Thwack!
Sweet, kind, passive Aluin brought his staff down on the back of Eletha’s head in one swift strike.
Mellia gasped, her hand covering her mouth in shock.
Never before had Aluin and Eletha come to blows.
“What the hell!” Eletha cried, pissed off. The hand she put to the wound came back red. “I’m bleeding!”
“Now you look!” Aluin’s timid voice was surprisingly firm and booming. His staff shook in his hands, but it would strike again if it needed to. “It doesn’t matter if it’s true! It doesn’t matter if it’s just a sword! How many people have looked up to you? How many stories are told at hearths around Faerûn because of you?”
“Bonk her again!” Tyrlumin cheered as the wizard and the hunter stared down one another. “Knock some sense into her!”
Aluin raised the staff, but did not bring it down.
“Those kids believe in you. They came here because they believe in you! Maybe you don’t like it, maybe it’s foolish. Who knows how many legends were just people, doing what they had to do?
“Just pick up the damn sword and tell those kids that they’re going to save the world!”
In the silence that followed, they could have heard a pin drop.
“Wow, did you have that prepared or…?” Shadowheart asked, laughing nervously.
Thwack!
Aluin’s staff came down, only to be blocked by the scabbard of Eletha’s new sword.
She’d moved so fast that most of them had barely enough time to register the motion. The grip slipped easily into her hand, as if it was made just for her.
As the two disengaged, Eletha revealed the silvery blade, inspecting it with a critical and curious eye. In the low light of the room, it appeared to have a subtle glow.
“It does have a really nice balance…” she muttered in praise, trying not to sound as excited about it as she really was.
She tested one of her strikes and-
“Oops,” Eletha said quietly, staring out of the new hole she just made in the wall. Good thing Mellia wasn’t standing nearby as sunlight spilled into the room.
Sighing, Aluin slumped and, after a moment of indecipherable muttering, dug through his pockets. With a piece of chalk, he started making sigils around the hole and went out to mark all of the bricks.
Very carefully, Eletha put the sword back in its scabbard.
“I will, um. Go… inspire the troops, I guess,” she said haltingly, unable to look at anyone in the room as she skittered off towards the stairs.
Mellia regarded those left behind with a bright befanged smile.
“It’s nice to meet you all,” she told them cheerily.
They all exchanged pleasantries and introductions. Mellia offered them seats at the table and to serve them some of the desserts or even go find something more savory and filling, but the party declined.
Eletha’s old friends stared at Astarion. It wasn’t hostile, but it was… unnerving.
“Can I help you?” he asked, biting the words off in agitation.
“Sorry, it’s just that…” Aluin started, trailing off as his stare shifted into thoughtfulness.
“Well, you’re… him,” Bromthrum completed for him, his stare maybe a little more hostile than the others. Tyrlumin regarded Astarion with mild curiosity, as if he was looking at a strange bug.
“HIM,” Mellia repeated, her eyes going wide, her pale hands with their blood-red claws starting balled-up and then spreading out for emphasis. Then she giggled girlishly, as if meeting her best friend’s crush for the first time, amused by all the juicy gossip that she knew about him. “Tell us: how badly did she take it?”
As best they could, the group retold the story, each piping in with their own takes of certain events.
Aluin’s shoulders slumped in relief. Bromthrum sighed.
Tyrlumin and Mellia looked disappointed.
“She didn’t even eat dirt?” Mellia asked, confused.
“What?” Karlach responded in disbelief.
“Did she dig a shallow grave and bury herself?” Tyrlumin asked excitedly.
“I mean… she did just sort of fall down and throw dirt on herself?” Shadowheart recalled uncertainly.
“Oh, you lot got off easy,” Mellia said flippantly, scoffing and waving them off.
“How so?” Gale asked, concerned but curious.
“I would say that you got about a… 2-and-a-half out of 5 of an Eletha Freak-out,” Mellia answered. “A 3 is, say, eating dirt or burying herself alive, maybe some minor-but-not-great self-inflicted wounds.”
“A 4 is the dead-eye,” Tyrlumin added. At this, Mellia did her best impression. Her eyes lost the flicker of life, they appeared to be both looking at something a thousand miles away and boring into their souls. The bard hummed in delight. “Oh, that was good.”
“Thank you, Lu!” Mellia said brightly, the impression falling away in the blink of an eye.
“What’s a 5?” Astarion asked, voice wavering a little in trepidation.
Eletha’s old friends exchanged glances.
“I only ever saw her at a 4,” Aluin said solemnly.
“I’ve seen her at a 2,” Bromthrum answered a little too happily. A 2 was a personality shift, making her harsh and aggressive.
“When I saw her at a 5, she was trying to perform surgery on herself,” Tyrlumin remarked thoughtfully, hand on his chin, eyes far away as he recalled that moment. Then he snapped back to reality, his normal strange mirth gone. “I can go the rest of my life without seeing living innards again, thank you.”
Many of the group made sounds of disgust or pain.
“I suppose I knew her at her worst,” Mellia answered without fondness or warmth, despite her apparent amusement with the discussion.
“I admit, at first, I used it to my advantage. Ellie, at her lowest, is a pure killing machine. No bloodlust, no revelry, you could barely even call it ‘carnage.’ Just an extension of whatever weapon is in her hand. You could break her legs and she would still stand, break her arms and she would raise the executioner’s ax.
“She killed slowly, too. Tortured a man for 10 days. Took bits off of him, fed them to his dog. She had an owl then, it pecked out his eyes, his flesh-”
“Now, to be fair,” Bromthrum interrupted, seeing that the group was having varying reactions to this tale, “the man did torture, rape, and kill a little girl.”
“Oh, yes, this was punishment,” Mellia agreed insistently. “And Ellie took no pleasure from it. She was just the executor of justice. Or, well, you know. What we all wish would happen to people like that.”
“They were all like that, really,” Tyrlumin pointed out thoughtfully. He started to count with his fingers. “The mother who smothered her child. The man who beat his wife and children. The man who beat his dogs. The man who set his barn on fire with his herd inside when the price of wool crashed. The woman who refused to take her slowly-suffocating child to a doctor because prayer would heal him-”
“Buried alive, beaten to death, eaten alive by her wolf, set on fire, slowly crushed her with stones,” Mellia explained a little too happily. She sobered up a little. “Of course, most of the time, she goes for the quickest death. A swift beheading or arrow to the brain. Ellie doesn’t let things suffer.”
As if on cue, Eletha returned, with the newly-inducted members of the “Order of the Wandering Star” in tow.
A lot of faces looked at her with haunted eyes.
“Oh, you told them something upsetting, didn’t you?” Eletha asked, not surprised in the least.
“Oh, you know, trading war stories,” Tyrlumin answered as he approached her. With a firm grip on her shoulder, he leaned in towards her ear and said quietly, “We need to talk.”
Eletha shrugged him off and in a clear voice that could be heard by all, she said, “What do we need to talk about?”
“Fine, but don’t complain when this gets embarrassing,” the bard complained, rolling his eyes. “Against my nature, I’ve been in this godsforsaken pit of a city for 5 years now. One night, a handsome white-haired elf tried to seduce me. I know, it’s hard to believe-”
“It was Astarion, got it, move this along,” Eletha said impatiently, taking her turn to roll her eyes as she leaned against the long table. Tyrlumin huffed, put out.
“Yes, well, I have been keeping my beady little eyes on your paramour. I was trying to find the right time to tell you. It complicated things when I realized that he didn’t remember you. Which is rude. Who could forget you? I worried you might come here just to turn him into a stain on the floor and then we’d have to deal with his master- It would be a whole thing.
“Then he disappeared, I couldn’t find him. I worried some monster hunter caught him or his master finally had enough. My little cropped ears caught wind that someone was looking for a handsome white-haired elf.
“But it wasn’t his master.”
Eletha stared at him. Tyrlumin stared back.
“I don’t get it,” Zespira piped up.
Eletha turned swiftly. Her hands reached out-
“Not the cakes!” Aluin cried out in distress, his own hands shooting out of his sleeves. A spark of magic flicked off his fingertips and struck the table.
Eletha put all her weight into flipping it over. The now-shimmering table didn’t even shudder.
Eletha roared in anger as she stomped out of the room.
“Well, that went better than I imagined,” Mellia said cheerily. “I thought we were going to be scraping Lumin off the walls for a week.”
“I still don’t get it,” Zespira said quietly, hanging her head in shame, assuming that she had set her idol off.
“Don’t worry about that, sweetlings. Let’s go upstairs and have a nice lunch, hm?” Mellia told them sweetly like a mother herding her children.
Aluin and Bromthrum followed Eletha’s group out into the alley and then the small side street. There was no Eletha in sight.
“Don’t worry, she’ll show up,” Aluin told them happily.
“How do you know that?” Astarion spat at the wizard as he shoveled a forkful of cake into his mouth.
“Because she took the news well,” he answered as he handed his empty plate to Bromthrum, who passed him his staff.
He muttered some words and the piece of wood and metal started to glow. With a confidence he didn’t seem capable of, he struck the ground with the end of the staff. Little sigils, which had previously gone unnoticed, started to glow as well, spreading out from the staff.
In one direction, they met a few carts of materials that hadn’t been there when they arrived. In the other, they snaked around the crumbling building. Slowly, the materials from the cart, and those scattered about the ruin, floated and fit together like a puzzle into the shape of a proper building.
Aluin kept his head low, murmuring something to his staff, his hands gripping it tightly. Its glow slowly faded, as if bleeding into the sigils. When the light was all used up, the building was complete.
Aluin sighed, looked at the building, and then fished a chocolate out of his pockets and popped it into his mouth.
“Why can’t you do that?” Karlach asked Gale quite seriously, her voice tinged with awe and judgment.
“I’m not quite sure what that was…”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The party went about their business and, true to Aluin’s word, Eletha did eventually reappear.
Much to their surprise, she was only a little inebriated and lacked any signs of brutality, self-inflicted or otherwise.
Gale joined her at the edge of the dock they’d temporarily made their home. There she sat, idly smoking her pipe and taking conservative sips of wine.
“I gotta do something tomorrow,” Eletha told him casually, offering her bottle to him. He declined, having brought a goblet of something finer.
“And what’s that?”
“See a guy.”
A few heartbeats passed.
“Your son?” Gale asked firmly, as to not betray how worried he was.
“Heilar Moonstone, the man who taught me the art of the sword. The only man from my clan that I wouldn’t gut on sight,” she answered solemnly, no hint of either pleasure or hatred in the statement. Then she added, “Well. There’s probably some young ones who don’t deserve it.”
Gale sighed in relief. “That’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”
“Oh, no, the boy’s here too.” Eletha puffed at her pipe and tried to make shapes with the smoke as she exhaled it. “Just the two of them, thankfully. If one of our parents were here-”
“A five.”
“They explained the rating system, didn’t they?”
“Oh, yes, in detail.”
A few more heartbeats passed in silence.
“Those adventurers really believed in you,” Gale remarked thoughtfully, pointedly changing the subject. “There are more?”
“Yeah. A lot of dead ones, too.” Eletha chuckled. “I’m gonna turn into Jaheira, aren’t I?”
“I think you might already be Jaheira.”
“At least she’s smoking hot.”
Gale gaped, taken off-guard.
“What?” she asked, eyebrow quirked.
“I didn’t realize you liked women.”
“Oh, so, you only got the ‘war stories’ about me being a psycho?” Eletha shook her head and sighed. “Thanks a lot, Mel.”
“Do you know what you’re going to say to your teacher?” Gale asked, pointedly changing this subject as well.
“Sorta. Not really. I just… need to get them out of Baldur’s Gate before one of the many dickheads coming after us gets to them.”
“A good idea.”
More heartbeats passed.
“Do you… have a plan? For if you see your son.”
Eletha stared out over the water.
“Yeah.” She reached out and took hold of his hand. “Will you come with me? To make sure I don’t fall apart?”
“I will keep you together, I promise.” Gale laughed softly. “And if you fall apart, well, your friend Aluin can put you together.”
“He doesn’t need the Weave, he turns sugar into magic,” Eletha responded with a laugh of her own.
“Your friends are very… unique.”
Eletha looked over her shoulder at the others’ tents.
“Yeah, I don’t think you should be casting stones.”
