Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lying in a pool of slime, surrounded by roaring fires, Eletha Nightstar tried to remember what she was doing to end up in this mess. It seemed like just plain bad luck; she was doing her normal thing, wandering near Waterdeep to do some hunting. One moment she was tracking a stag, the next she was here.

It’d been a while, she was due for an adventure.

A figure dropped in front of her and brandished its sword. Eletha put up her hands. “Just passing through, officer.”

“Doubtful, ghaik.” Their parasites communed in some way, sending their memories to one another. This proved to calm the strange woman. “It appears we are in the same situation. We must push to the helm.”

“Point and they’ll get an arrow in the eye,” Eletha told the woman, who hummed in satisfaction.

Eletha wasn’t much of a leader. She’d been wandering around Faerun for over 230 years, alone. Well, not always alone. She had her animal companions and sometimes met people on the road. She’d met a lot of different people and creatures, but never whatever this woman was. She’d also never met a mindflayer. There was always time for firsts.

Lae’zel seemed young, but knowledgeable. And eager to be in front. Eletha could admire that, remembering what it was like to be young and imagining herself as a hero. True to her moon elf heritage, she was always on the go, but she’d lost a lot of that ‘hero’ mentality.

Besides, having someone else in front meant a higher chance of survival. It wasn’t exactly a charitable notion, it was downright selfish, but Lae’zel was running around in warrior’s armor with a warrior’s sword. Eletha was thankfully still armed with her trusty longsword and bow, but she was only wearing her traveling leathers. Somewhere out there, a brown bear named Bonnet was carrying all her worldly possessions, including a fine set of armor she reserved for proper monster hunting and caravan guard duty.

Lae’zel proved she was no spring chicken, cutting down the infernal beasts in their way, but they were rather inconsequential. Still, it was good to know her new fighting companion wouldn’t freeze or piss her boots so easily. Some people were just not cut out for this line of work.

“Help!” someone cried out in the next room, punctuated by the sound of fists on glass.

“Leave her. We must get to the helm,” Lae’zel warned Eletha. She waved her off, inspecting the pod instead.

“She could be helpful, but go on if you want,” Eletha explained tersely, uninterested in a back-and-forth.

“T’Chk.” Lae’zel made undoubtable complaints in her native tongue as Eletha searched for some clue as to how to release the poor woman in the pod.

“Thank you,” Shadowheart told Eletha after introducing herself.

“We better go, or she’ll have an aneurysm,” Eletha said after nodding, indicating their githyanki companion.

What followed was a blur of battle. Eletha could still smell the smoke and infernal blood on her clothes.

It wasn’t the first time she woke up on a beach, the details of how she got there hazy.

Naturally, she wondered where she was. Then she wondered if Bonnet, wherever she was, was okay. If she didn’t find her, it was going to be really annoying building up her stash from scratch. Whoever found that bear first was going to be very lucky, if they could get past her claws…

“Hey, Cha, wake up,” Eletha insisted, shaking Shadowheart’s shoulder. 

“Did you just call me Cha?” Shadowheart asked after rousing, a little indignant but mostly confused.

“Sorry, force of habit.” Eletha had been around long enough to suspect Shadowheart was more than she was letting on, but she’d also been around long enough to know when to let sleeping dogs lie. The secretive way she snatched her curious possession and talked around her patron god were big clues, but it wasn’t the first time she’d traveled with someone serving one of the less savory deities. “I keep mostly to myself. Forget how to talk to normal people.”

When they came upon him, Eletha was quick to help Gale. She’d recognize the tone and look of a wizard anywhere, even if it was just a sleeve poking out of a portal.

“I didn’t expect to run into a real moon elf,” he remarked after introductions. Eletha raised an eyebrow.

“As opposed to a fake moon elf?” Gale laughed nervously. Eletha likes making wizards, certain wizards, laugh; they were all so serious and it was nice to see one have a little moment of good humor.

“I meant no offense. Only that you seem like a real adventure-y sort. The only moon elves I know are stuffy wizards.”

“I think I know the ones you mean.” His eyes lit up in excitement.

“So you’ve been to Waterdeep?” 

“I was near there when I got, ya know-” Eletha wiggled a finger by her temple. Gale nodded sagely.

“Mm, yes, I doknow.”

“Anyone hear that?” Shadowheart interrupted.

“Yeah, that’s why I came this way,” Eletha explained, sensitive ears wiggling as she tried to pin down the source of the sound. “Also, hoping to find my stuff.”

“You there!” the source of the noise called out to them. “Come here-”

“Astarion?” Eletha asked, squinting against the sun, struck with disbelief. The male elf looked more shocked than her.

“A-ah…?”

“Astarion Ancunin? ” she repeated, close, but not too close.

“No- I mean, yes,” he answered. He wasn’t ready to commit to a fake name on the spot. That could get real muddy, real fast.

“You look almost the same…” Eletha said quietly, mostly to herself. She took a step forward and her eyes narrowed even more.

Astarion put up his hands defensively and took a step back. It was rather apparent that she saw something that she didn’t like. If she really knew him, it was possible that she was in the perfect position to figure out what he was. It was also a possibility, although an increasingly slimmer one, that she was specifically looking for him. “I’m afraid I-”

“You seriously don’t remember me?” Eletha asked, annoyance overriding suspicion. Astarion’s smile was strained, nervous. She didn’t reach for her sword or knife, but in his situation, it wasn’t exactly a good idea to piss off the first person he met on the road. It was already a miracle that he was alive…

“If I’m being honest? No. I’ve met a lot of people, darling.” Eletha barked a laugh devoid of humor. Her body language became relaxed, but she clearly wasn’t happy to see him.

“You were a dickhead then and you’re a dickhead now . Great.” She waved a hand at him to follow as she walked past him.

“Wait, there was one of those disgusting-” he tried to call out, pointing ahead of her in warning. Eletha threw a stone in that direction and a boar came rushing out of the weeds.

“Your ruses still need work,” she muttered angrily, along with a string of Elvish insults.

“I don’t know who’s luckier: us or you,” Shadowheart said to Astarion with a smug little smile. “If you’d tried something on me , you'd have more than an injured pride.”

“It might be best that you remember her quickly,” Gale cautioned him as they caught up to their de facto leader. “That is a masterwork eladrin sword on her hip if I’ve ever seen one. And she doesn’t appear to be afraid to use it.”

Astarion stood and watched as Eletha efficiently made work of three intellect devourers. There was just a little bit of excitement in her face as she did so.

“Quite right,” he replied distractedly, trying to formulate how to convince her to be his most powerful ally instead of his potential killer.

They didn’t find her things, or Bonnet, but they did find Lae’zel. After that, they decided to make the best of camping for the night. 

Eletha was no stranger to resting on the ground like a common animal. While doing her best to make it a little less miserable, Astarion approached her.

“So. We’re resting here? Turning in for the night?” Eletha only grunted, layering some underbrush into a makeshift bed. It was only for a few hours. Amusement curled Astarion’s lips and next words. “Not exactly my usual night. Curling up in the dirt and resting is… a little novel. You seem the type to manage just fine, however.”

“I am,” Eletha said, the sounds grinding out like two stones scraping against one another. Astarion chuckled nervously.

“So… we know one another?” he asked uncertainly, putting a little suggestive curl on his words.

“Yes.”

“Did I… wrong you in some way?” Eletha snapped a discordant twig. The sound reminded him a bit of breaking bones. Thankfully, he was able to remain unfazed. “Well… it was certainly a long time ago, so I hope it won’t get in the way of us traveling together.”

Eletha stood slowly, the jagged end of the twig white-knuckled in her hand. Astarion’s eyes flicked down to it and then up into her mismatched eyes. She took a deep breath and Astarion weighed his options: run or fight.

“If you want a drink, you have to ask,” she told him quietly, so only he could hear. There was a bit of an edge to it, consistent with her pervading annoyance with him. Other than that, it was a rather polite statement, devoid of judgment.

Astarion gaped briefly in surprise, not trusting what he heard. “W-what?”

Eletha quickly jutted out her chin towards him. “Those aren’t your eyes. And you’ve barely aged a day.”

He put up his hands in a plea of innocence. “Darling-”

“Call me that again,” Eletha warned, the carefully restrained anger in her eyes flaring.

“Eletha,” Astarion corrected, but it clearly still made her uncomfortable. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You were always a horrible liar,” she said, almost sadly. She flicked the stick aside and shoulder-checked him on her way to the campfire.

“So, you know one another? How fortuitous,” Gale remarked as Eletha sat down next to him.

“I’m happier about running into you,” she told him after taking a bite of the stew he’d made for the night with what she managed to find. “This is good. But everything tastes good after a day like this. Thank you all the same.”

“Hopefully better meals will be around the corner,” he said with a smile. Wistfully he added, “And better bedding.”

Eletha shook her head. “Wizards.”

“What’s your secret?” Astarion asked Gale as they both sat in camp while the others were out.

Gale was reading a book studiously. With the comforts of a tent and bedroll set up, he started collecting reading material. The more relevant the better.

“What secret is that?” Bored, Astarion took a book off a pile and flipped through the pages idly.

“Why Eletha likes you . I haven’t the faintest idea what she sees in you.” He paused. “Well. Maybe a little.”

“Does she? I never noticed,” Gale asked with disinterest, focused on his reading. Or at least, that’s how it appeared to Astarion, who scoffed.

“She’s ice cold to everyoneelse.”

“You must be thinking of someone else. Eletha is quite kind to everyone, until they prove they don't deserve it.” At this, Gale pointedly looked at Astarion out of the corner of his eye.

“Fine. She’s ice cold to me , and she alreadyknows me!” Gale smiled a little in amusement.

“Have you considered that you gave her ample reason to be cold to you? Besides, she's not alwaysangry with you.”

“How do you mean?” Astarion asked after staring at him blankly, trying to summon the memory of even a single interaction with Eletha that wasn’t tainted by agitation.

Gale couldn’t believe he had to explain this to someone who seemed much more socially intelligent than him. Sure, he could perceive the slight changes in someone’s facial expression or tone, but he often misunderstood their intention. It always felt like the people calling him inept were themselves incapable of understanding why anyone did anything. 

“She sometimes laughs at your quips, or looks at you fondly.”

“If you can see that…” Exasperated, Astarion rubbed one temple with his middle finger.

“As interesting as this conversation is, I am quite busy, so do you mind?” Gale ignored the minor insult Astarion thought he couldn’t hear. “And return the book when you’re done, if you please.”

Later that evening, after they'd eaten and started turning in, Astarion approached Eletha. She didn’t want to find a tent or even a bedroll, insisting on waiting a bit longer for Bonnet to show up. Thus, he found her readjusting the pile of leaves and branches that served as her bed.

“No need to sleep on the disgusting ground like a dog, dar- you, ” he tried to coo, remembering a little too late how she prickled at his pet names. “You should join me in my tent. You would find it much more comfortable.”

“No thank you, I’m quite comfortable as it is.”

“On a bunch of grass and blankets?” he asked indignantly. After she hummed in acknowledgement, he approached so he couldn't be overheard. “The other day you said… that if I asked… Well, thisis me asking.”

Eletha eyed him, but not exactly in a hateful way. It was actually a bit amused. Maybe Gale was right. “I'm not hearing much asking.”

“Maybe you could come to my tent, where I could ask you properly?” She followed him without much of a fight. In the privacy of the tent, he clasped his hands like a supplicant and tried to look properly desperate. “Would you… let me have some of your blood? Just a bit. Just to… sharpen the senses. Your blood would be much more… invigorating than any animal’s.”

“I’m aware,” Eletha said as she pulled out her less impressive knife reserved for potentially destructive tasks. He watched as she held the tip above the candle in his tent, sanitizing it.

“Should I assume you're doing this because we were… friends?” Eletha stopped what she was doing, took a deep, deep breath, and let it out in a long sigh. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked while she was actively holding something she could stab him with.

“Yes. We were friends. Close friends,” she answered tersely, a far away look in her eyes. Then she appeared to wrestle with some internal argument before softening. “Look. I’m sorry I'm being coarse with you. Turns out, it's easy to think you've let something go until you actually have to face it again.”

“Well… I’m sure I deserve it,” Astarion said sadly. She actually believed him and that hurt more than the cuts she made in the underside of her forearm.

“Not really. Now are we doing this or what?”

“I was hoping for your neck, but…” he carefully took hold of her arm like it was a precious heirloom, “blood is blood, I suppose.”

“The last time your mouth was on my neck isn’t exactly a fond memory.” Despite this, she seemed unbothered by offering him another piece of her body.

Astarion didn’t bother finding a response, the scent of her blood almost maddening. Lost in its taste, its power, he only stopped when he felt the sharp snap of her finger flicking his forehead. As he wiped off his face, he watched a little too intensely as she sealed the wounds with her heated knife. He met her eyes with rare earnestness.

“I know this is a gift. I won't forget this.” Eletha gave him a look that made him chuckle. “Well. Not anytime soon.”

Gale was right, Eletha was kind. Maybe too kind for his liking. Astarion would sigh in disappointment whenever she offered to help some poor idiot. Inevitably, she would give him a harrowing stare over her shoulder, he’d go ‘fine’, then she’d smile and move on. 

She defended him, vouched for him, when he came out to the group as a vampire. She made him ask, which was a little humiliating for someone like him, but she spared blood for him. 

Like a grandmother, Eletha doted on them all, practically pinching cheeks and shoving food in their mouths. Of course, she had to be quite a bit older than them, considering she knew him long enough ago that he couldn’t remember her.Astarion had forgotten a lot of things, though, even after being turned…

Eletha had been acting cagey for the past few days, carefully watching the sky at night. Lae’zel accused her of being a spy for these Absolutist weirdos. She promised to explain soon, that it would make more sense later.

While on the road, Astarion readied his bow suddenly, the only one to hear a subtle sound in the underbrush while the others were deep in discussion. They all stopped and trained their ears and eyes on what he heard.

The bushes rustled. 

He pulled back. 

He let go.

“No!” Eletha cried out. His arrow sank into her back, above the shoulder blade. It was inches away from slicing open her neck. Astarion was frozen in horror.

Eletha didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she was laughing, playing with the bear that came out of the brush. It looked more like a pack animal than a bear, a leather harness strapped to its back to carry bags of things.

“Bonnet, my sweet girl!” she cooed, scritching the animal’s face. “You found me! What a good girl!”

“When you said you had a companion I was imagining a more… dog-like animal,” Wyll remarked uncertainly, a slight chuckle in his voice.

“At least it wasn’t a wolf,” Shadowheart said thankfully, approaching Eletha to deal with the arrow. She shot Astarion a look. “Are you going to apologize?”

“I-” he started, finally coming to. He was ready to apologize out of reflex, but then scoffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s her fault, shejumped in the way!”

Shadowheart shook her head. “You’re impossible.”

“Hey, let’s go back to camp,” Eletha said happily, trying to free herself from the bear’s affection. “Bonnet doesn’t fight, so I’d like to take her back and get all this stuff off her.”

“You should rest your shoulder, too,” Shadowheart reminded her, a suspicious squint to her eyes. Eletha actually seemed surprised to see the arrow’s shaft wiggling in the corner of her vision.

“Oh! I barely noticed.”

“How could you barely notice…” Wyll muttered to himself, a little horrified.

“I’ll explain after dinner. Let’s get going.”

True to her word, Eletha stood before them all. If she had a lute, one might have mistaken this for a bard’s performance with the air of mystery that hung over them.

“Look, this isn’t that serious, especially considering… One of you is a bomb, another is a vampire, one has made literal deals with devils, and, ya know, Karlach set a building on fire by screaming.” A few chuckles sounded around the fire, easing the tension. “That’s all to say… I’m cursed.”

“What kind of curse? Where did it come from? How long have you had it?” Gale asked, a mix of excitement and seriousness. 

“Well, I guess it’s not so much a curse as a… side effect? I made a deal with a fey and my payment is… I burst into flames during the new moon.” She offered them an embarrassed little chuckle.

Silence surrounded the campfire. Wyll opened his mouth to comment, but then thought better of it. Without waiting for anyone to say anything, Eletha continued, rather happily.

“Yeah, so, tonight’s the new moon so I’m gonna… be naked and on fire next to the river all night.” She gave the sky a quick glance and started undoing the laces of her boots. “Kinda cutting it close, but we’ll be alright. Worst case, I’ll need to find new small clothes…”

“Wait, seriously? You’re just going to be on fire all night?” Karlach asked, the situation just sinking in. “Won’t that… hurt?”

“Oh, yes, it’s excruciating. I got used to it a while ago though.” Eletha got down to her underwear before some of them started turning colors and looking away. “Sorry. Been a while since I’ve had an audience. Forgot some people are shy.”

Karlach held up a hand like a child in class. Eletha pointed at her and she asked, “Do you think we could… touch each other? While you’re on fire?”

“Oh, that’s a good question…” Eletha rubbed her chin in thought, scratching is like Gale scratched his beard. Then she held out her hand, palm flat, fingers to the sky. “High five!”

Karlach carefully smacked her palm against Eletha’s. The elf didn’t yell like Karlach expected, just shook it off. “We’ll try again when the sun goes down.”

They didn’t wait long, the sun was already low in the sky when she got ready for her fiery transformation. They were all varying levels of curious. Eletha seemed more bored than anything. It was an incredibly novel experience by now.

Then it started. Her blue-pale skin reddened, then split, and from those cracks came white flames. They grew and spread until her whole body was covered in an even level of fire, like a very weird wick. The hair on her head quickly turned to ash and blew away, as did her underwear. Excitedly, Eletha once again offered Karlach her hand.

They high-fived. Shook hands. Exchanged playful punches. With each experimental touch, Karlach grew more ecstatic. Eventually, she scooped Eletha up and crushed her in a massive hug.

“I can’t believe it! I’m touching someone!”

“You hug me any tighter, you might put me out,” Eletha wheezed. Karlach loosened her grip. “You gotta refer me to your tailor. I’d combustfor some fire-proof clothes.”

“You’re so funny!” Karlach cried, happy tears streaming from her eyes, only to turn to steam.

After everyone went off to bed and Karlach finally tired herself out from having a new non-flammable friend, Eletha sat on the cool sand of the riverbank, looking much like a small bonfire. 

“Mind if I join you for a bit?” Gale asked, startling her. He didn’t exactly employ a silent step. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“No, it’s just-” Eletha wiggled a finger by her ear. “It’s loud.”

“I imagine the sound of one's own ears burning like the edges of a nice roast is quite… distracting. Luckily, most people wouldn’t hear it for long.” Eletha chuckled, a bit exaggerated in order to be heard. Gale brightened a little. “Ah! You didn’t take offense.”

“I have a thick skin.” Gale laughed, but it seemed to surprise him.

“I’m curious; what will you look like in the morning?”

“No hair. My skin will be normal, but tender. Recent burns tend to go away, but unfortunately- or fortunately, if that’s how you choose to see it- old scars don’t go away.”

“Fascinating…” Gale considered some things as they sat in relative silence. “What was it? For which you are so afflicted.”

“We don’t know each other well enough for that,” she told him with a half-smile that he was unlikely to see.

“A fair answer.” After a moment of him scratching his chin, Eletha said, “Peace of mind.”

“Mm… a rare thing. Was it worth it?”

Eletha shrugged casually. “Sometimes. A lot of the time? It’s not really relevant. But when it is? I’m really glad. And by now, I’m used to it. Sometimes it’s fun. I’m a folk monster somewhere near Arabel.”

“Do tell.”

“Age-old story. Drunk village men, doing whatever it is humans do in the woods. Be drunk, fight, make a mess. They see me, white dancing flame, lose their minds. By the time I pass through town, trying to trade pelts and such, they’ve already distributed some story about a fire elemental on the loose. I come through maybe a hundred years later, still scaring kids with stories about the scary fire demon.”

“I’m sure a bard could dress it up for you.”

“I’m not really one for stories, but I’ve had a few adventures. Wyll has me beat, though. I’m just much older.”

“I am sure this one we are on will prove to be worth recounting in many a tavern some day.” He chuckled nervously, a hand over the orb in his chest. “I came here hoping to thank you for helping me. I suppose you… understand some of my plight.”

“We all have our burdens. You’re my friend, don’t worry about it.”

“Ah… friend? Hmm… I like the sound of that. It has been a long time since I have made a friend.”

“I understand quite well. I would shake your hand, but…”

“Yes, this camp isn’t big enough for three humanoid torches.” Gale smiled and then emitted a soft ‘heh’ at his own joke.

“Go to bed, Bhin. Young’uns might be full of energy, but they still need their rest.”

“Quite right. Good night, Eletha. I hope you burn a little less tonight.”

While trying to go to sleep, Gale would realize how dumb that sounded. The sentiment, however, was received in the manner it was meant.

Chapter Text

Eletha was eternally grateful that Bonnet caught up when she did. Of course, she was mainly worried about the poor bear, all alone, and such a scaredy-cat of a brown bear. Then the less-important and self-centered reasons: her tent and bedroll, her journals, and her collection of rare bits and bobs. Among that rare collection was a potion that made her hair grow back faster. After her night as a sentient campfire, there was the unfortunate stage of hair regrowth.

If she was alone, she wouldn’t have bothered with the potion. Eletha was very much comfortable being bald and every stage in between. However, she received a variety of comments about her appearance when everyone started their day. She could handle the ribbing, it was kind of funny, and laughing about it made it less serious.

To her surprise, Eletha was most affected by Astarion’s reaction. He managed to cut off his unrestrained laughter after a split second, the rest muffled by his hand clamped over his mouth. Wyll smiled and told her to ignore him, and Eletha smiled back and reminded him that she was well aware of what a cock Astarion could be. But despite her confidence or their reassurances, she sipped from the potion and wrapped a green scarf around her head. To keep the sun off, obviously, not because she was embarrassed.

Astarion kept trying to make the scarf fall off. Eletha kept catching him. At first she was annoyed, but then it became a game. It felt like old times. Chasing each other through the forest, trying to snatch ribbons off each other’s belts. Sneaking up on one another and trying to steal something from a pocket or pouch.

After a conversation with some of the refugees, Astarion dangled a pendant in front of her face. His eyes sparkled with delight and his lips were pulled into a smug grin as he cooed, “Missing something?”

Eletha didn’t even bother checking the pouch attached to her belt, she’d recognize that pendant anywhere and it was one of a kind. Even with her quick reflexes, he managed to pull it away in time to avoid her snatching grasp. Astarion wagged a finger, tutted, and shook his head, a deadly combination.

Eletha lept at him with her whole body, forcing him to the ground. They fought, thankfully bare-handed, and rolled around in the dirt like two starving dogs fighting over a bone. The pendant flew out of Astarion’s grasp, but Eletha continued her onslaught of creative Elvish insults and minor blows.

At one point, much to everyone’s amusement, Eletha was sitting on his chest and pulling on both his ears. He screeched like a cat whose tail was caught in a door as she yelled at him for being a ‘stuck-up brat’ and a ‘light-fingered liar.’ Astarion overcame her weight, flipped them both, and landed on top of her. His hands crushed her wrists down into the dirt above her head while his hips pinned hers and one knee was pressing hard into her inner thigh.

They were both panting, fire in their eyes. Eletha didn’t relent and used all her strength and leverage to break free. Bearing his teeth, Astarion put more weight on her wrists and she had no choice but to wince as they threatened to break. Shocked, he let go.

Everyone around them was pointedly looking away now. The fight had become a little too intimate, but while they were in it, they didn’t notice. All they’d seen was how much they wanted to shove the other’s face into the dirt.

Astarion got up and dusted off his hands sheepishly. His eyes flicked to the audience, checking his surroundings. With a nervous theatrical lilt of laughter, he offered his hand to Eletha. “What fun! Nothing like rolling around in the dirt with your friends to get one’s blood pumping, yes?”

Eletha took his hand and squeezed his hand much harder than necessary. She struggled to get up, even with his help. His knee on her thigh had put her whole leg to sleep and now it couldn’t support her weight. Offering his hand was just for show, now he had to commit to it. 

“I managed to find your necklace, but I’m afraid it's-” Gale started, diffusing the tension with his sudden presence. In his outstretched palm was the pendant, in two pieces. Eletha took it from him delicately and held the piece in its original place. “Perhaps we can find a jeweler in Baldur’s Gate.”

Eletha laughed as she put it back in her pouch and had a gentle smile for him. “It’s very old and just a thing, it’s fine. Thank you for your concern, Gale.”

“It was infused with magic once, if my intuition is correct,” he said thoughtfully as they moved on.

“It used to light up, nothing special,” she explained, patting her pouch to make sure Astarion’s fingers weren’t in it again.

“If it wasn’t important, you wouldn’t have kept it on your person after it went dun.” Gale chuckled a little. “Or fought like feral cats in the street.”

“You’re a little too shrewd for comfort,” Eletha told him in warning, a small smile on her lips.

“Mm, I won’t mention that I saw the engraving on it either…”

“Like I said: it’s old and unimportant.” Eletha patted his arm playfully. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Cute?” Gale hummed in thought for a moment. “I don’t know that I’ve ever been called that before… ‘Devastatingly handsome’, now…”

“You’re a Bhin, that makes you cute. Adorable, even,” she explained flippantly.

Gale sighed. “I shouldn’t complain. It’s been a long time since anyone has commented on my appearance, save for ‘you’re getting too skinny’ or ‘what’s that on your face?’”

“Aw, I like the beard. I want to scratch it, like a kitty’s face.” Eletha demonstrated on her own face how one might pet a cat in such a manner. 

Absent-mindedly, Gale mirrored the same gesture on his beard. “Yes… It can be quite itchy…”

Eletha took off her headscarf to fix it and scratch her head. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“I admire your resilience in such a situation.”

“It’s not so bad. Besides, sometimes it’s in that nice fuzzy stage,” she said with a shrug, running her hand over her head. Tilting it toward him, she insisted, “Go on, give it a feel!”

“I suppose I am curious…” Hesitantly, Gale ran a hand over Eletha’s head. Then he gave it another stroke, his eyes lighting up with joy. “Magical!”

“Told you it was fun.”

Karlach fell in step with Astarion as Eletha and Gale walked ahead, talking about something or other. As he was trying to rub the soreness out of his ears, she asked in a hushed voice, “Do you think you two, ya know… went at it when you were younger?”

Astarion scoffed indignantly, making a face of disgust. “Your friend clearly has a bone to pick with me. What could possibly make you think we’re old lovers?”

“I dunno, that looked a lot like flirting from where I was standin’... The way you were lookin’ at each other, thought we’d hafta pull you apart before we got kicked out for indecent exposure.” 

Astarion tittered, holding out his fingers so he could check them for chips and dirt. 

“Karlach, darling, I think you’re a little pent-up and in need of glasses,” he told her with a punctuated laugh. Darkly, eyes narrowed, he added, “That was close to bloodshed.” 

Karlach shook her head in disagreement. “I’ve known plenty of people who have a brawl before a fuck.”

“Ooooh. Do tell me more,” Astarion pleaded coyly, drawing out the words carefully in a seductive beat. Karlach smirked at him and rubbed her chin as she considered.

“Well, I knew this vampire once-” 

Astarion rolled his eyes.

“Ugh , I thought you were serious.”

“Why piss her off if you want her to like you so much?” Karlach asked with a quirk of a brow and a tilt of her head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Astarion answered dismissively.

“Oh, so, you didn’t just get irritated when she put her hand on Gale? This head-patting isn’t making you jealous? Cause ya look jealous.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re smarter than you look?”

“I know you don’t mean that, Fangs.” Karlach almost thumped him on the back, but he dodged out of the way.

“Watch where you put your flaming mitts! There’s only so much this old coat can handle…”

“Yeah… the coat…” Karlach trailed off with an annoying amount of knowing in her voice.

Sometimes Astarion joined them at the fire. Other times he chose to sit in front of his tent and read while drinking wine. 

Their camaraderie could be a bit… much. But sometimes loneliness gnawed at his heart and he would brave their stupid jokes and stories, sipping vinegared wine while they ate food that would turn him inside out. 

When he chose to sit alone, sometimes they’d come up one by one to have a little chat. It was much easier when he only had to keep one person entertained, enthralled by his charm and beauty. 

Sometimes something personal would come out, like Cazador and the things he had to do to survive as a spawn. Like a coward, he would slink away into his tent or out into the woods so he wouldn’t have to explain it again to the next person or expand on the story. 

Thankfully, they handed the stories off to each other, sparing him having to revisit the same horrible memory over and over again.

The stories made them treat him a little more softly, made them more protective. They turned Eletha from ice to, well, a person capable of more than two facial expressions. 

That night, Astarion watched them, thoughts roilling in his mind like a building storm. 

Karlach, annoyingly, was right. In hindsight, he was a hair away from either ripping Eletha’s throat out with his fangs or slipping his tongue down it while crushing their hips together. 

Their tussle required no active thought, running on pure instinct. An instinct more refined than basic survival; it was practiced, like a dance. They knew each other’s moves, knew exactly how to strike. He knew how to annoy Eletha just enough to come at him with her hands and not a stake. She moved like she knew he meant no harm and hurt him just enough in just the right way to bother but not damage.

But she hadn’t expected him to push past his victory with an aim to dominate her, to hurt her. That had shocked him out of it, that pain in her eyes.

Astarion couldn’t deny it, though. Before that pain, there was something like lust in her eyes. Something pleaded with him, screamed at him, to get closer. He’d smirk as he caught a softer version of that look in her glances.

In his mind, there was no denying it; she wanted him and she was willing to wrestle in the dirt just to touch him.

So when they were all done with their meal and Eletha was getting ready to turn in, he approached her. 

He’d thrown on another splash of his special perfume, just to make sure no other scents shone through, and made sure his nails were clean and neat. Frankly, she looked like a mess, but that would never stop Astarion. 

He was surprised to see her hair already mostly back, but sometimes the gods threw you a bone. Not like he ever turned away a potential mark just because they didn’t have hair.

Putting on his softest smile, using his gentlest, most loving tone, Astarion said softly to her, “I thought you could join me for a… hunt.”

Eletha quirked an eyebrow at him. Her stance wasn’t exactly open, but it wasn’t guarded either. She was simply going through her things. “What makes you suggest that?”

He let out a little practiced laugh and bobbed his head in fake thought. “I don't know… old times sake?”

Scoffing lightly, Eletha turned her attention back to her things. “Funny. You used to scare the prey away.”

Astarion clicked his tongue and let out a soft ‘aww.’ “How sweet. Was I soft of heart?”

“No, just a jerk.” she said good-naturedly. It was either the beer in her hand or he was undoing the damage that fight had caused. He laughed.

“Good to know the vampirism didn’t change me too much.” 

“I’m not going to be much help,” she said, indicating her drink.

“That’s fine, just try not to scare the prey away.” It was a weak joke, but she chuckled anyway, albeit into her mug. “Get ready. I’ll wait for you.”

Against her better judgment Eletha got ready and went to meet him. At least one of them was sober, although she considered him just as much a liability. 

It scared her how easy it was to run back into the arms of familiarity, even if those arms had forgotten her.

She wasn’t exactly surprised to find Astarion shirtless, but it wasn’t unexpected either. The surprise was that it didn’t make her mad. 

With a lazy smirk, she said in Elvish, “What are you doing?”

“I admit, I lied. You were the prey.” Eletha shook her head as she unnotched her bowstring. With false offense, he asked, “What? You don’t like what you see?”

“It’s okay. You clearly didn’t let yourself go when you got to the city, but I liked you when you were a little soft.” She chuckled again before taking a swig of beer from her waterskin.

“What’s so funny?” Astarion was actually a little self-conscious now. No one had really critiqued his appearance before except for ‘you seem a little pale’ and ‘what a strange color your eyes are.’

Clearly amused and lacking any judgment, she asked, “What are you actually trying to do?” 

Playing innocent, he responded, “What do you mean?”

“This might rankle you a bit, but you haven’t changed that much. You’re not actually as charming as you think you are, it just comes back around, like a kitten that’s so ugly it’s cute. Or how you love to get your fingers into things and mess with shit, get into places you shouldn’t be. And you always have some weird plan, and I’d always have to talk you out of it, because it’s usually dangerous or stupid.” 

She laughed again, mostly to herself. “So what do you want?”

Caught red-handed, he stopped pretending to be the romantic lead in a smutty novel and scoffed. “Sex, obviously.”

Eletha clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Nope. Waddya want from me?”

Exasperated, unable to believe this was how his plan was going, he let out a sharp ‘hah!’ “How is that answer wrong? You can’t know what I want unless I tell you.”

“Because I can tell.”

“Fine. What do I want?” 

Eletha walked up to him, so close he could smell her malty breath, feel its warmth against his bare chest. Those mismatched eyes, blue and gold, stared into his with a clarity they shouldn’t have right now.

“You want me to love you, so I’ll protect you, because I can’t imagine life without you.”

“You- That’s-” He held up a finger in protest, then sighed as his head sagged to the side in defeat. “How did you figure that out so quickly?”

“So how were you thinking this would go?” Eletha asked, ignoring his question and taking another swig instead.

“I thought that, if you knew me before, when I was even younger and undoubtedly more beautiful, you obviously dreamed of having me. What better way to curry favor than making your dreams come true?” He pitched his voice down to simulate lust. “That little scrap we had… I could tell how much you wanted me. I would have had you crying my name out like a prayer if we were alone.”

“Corellon’s balls, Star.” Astarion’s mouth fell open slightly in shock, surprised that she was immune to his charm. 

Eletha tilted her head back to offer a silent prayer for strength to the sky. Taking in a deep breath, she faced him again. “Come on, let me have it. What else is in your quiver of tricks?”

“Oh? Just need a bit more enticing? I can do that.” His face changed back to sultry. “You’re my little treat, with her cheeks all flushed. How about I taste… other parts of you?”

“You can do better. Next.” Eletha took a swig of her beer as he chose his next words.

“Every part of your perfect body whispers temptation. It’s as if the Gods made you just to ruin me.”

“I‘ve looked in a mirror lately, the only thing ruined in this situation is me,” she said, chuckling under her breath. Astarion huffed in frustration, but quickly composed himself. “I’m running out of beer, you get another try.”

“How about if I said these little words… Everyone’s favorite…” 

His perfect ears could hear her heartbeat speed up and it made it easy to put on a delicate smile. Schooling his tongue, careful not to sound the least bit harsh, he gazed into her eyes and said, 

“I love you.”

Eletha froze. 

Almost actually, with how cold her demeanor became. 

Astarion took a hesitant step back, as if easing away from a dangerous animal. 

Then the chill in her eyes melted to hurt and she could no longer look at him. She looked… ashamed, as if he’d ridiculed her and she knew every word was true.

Somehow, this had gone very wrong. This little meeting was meant to solidify her as his champion. The group respected her. A seasoned adventurer, she was sharp and had many skills. 

And he continued to throw away any good will he managed to earn. 

“I-I’m sorry, Eletha, I-”

“Lorelai,” she choked out, tears rolling down her cheeks. “When you knew me, my name was Lorelai. You called me Lori. You were the only one I let call me that.”

“I…” Not exactly what Astarion expected to come out of her mouth. He was expecting another tussle. 

Actually, another fight would have been preferable, even if it finally ended in bloodshed. At least then he could relieve this tension building inside him. 

Thankfully, she wouldn’t stick around long, saving him from being stuck in this incredibly awkward situation.

“I’m too old for this,” she managed to say, taking a shuddering breath. “I can’t… I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Astarion didn’t really want to make her stay, but he made a show of running after her. Maybe he did want her to stay, just for a bit, just so he could ask her about the Astarion she knew.

Eletha crept into the camp on quiet hunter’s feet, trying not to wake anyone, but she didn’t expect to find Gale sitting by the fire. 

His face became serious, clearly aware that she was upset. She debated waving him off and going to her tent, to sob into Bonnet’s fur, but something about him drew her to sit beside him at the fire. 

Her tears glinted in the flickering light until she wiped them away with the back of her hand. Gale offered her his cup of wine and she downed it greedily, despite not appreciating the taste.

“Sorry,” she told him, handing back an empty cup. He picked up the bottle on his other side and refilled it.

“It is just as well. I couldn’t get the cork back in,” he joked lightly before taking a modest sip. “What troubles you?”

“You loved Mystra,” she said, not really a question. Gale hummed. 

“I did. Very much.”

“And one day she was gone.”

“Indeed. Not one of my best days.”

“Did you ever feel like… you were past it?”

“I suppose. But the grief would come back. Perhaps I felt myself free of the pain out of obstinance, defiance. But I have not had as much time as you. Maybe I would be past it by now.” 

Eletha bowed her head, causing her silent tears to drip from her nose. He offered her a handkerchief and she took it much more politely than the wine.

“I spent decades imagining the moment I saw him again. All the things I would say and do. I’d tell him off, we’d probably scrap about it, then we’d laugh and take up a table in a tavern somewhere so we could swap stories.” 

She laughed, but it was sad, filled with regret. 

“Maybe I could have accepted him forgetting me. I haven’t seen him in… 233 years? I was 35 then. I had long hair and two blue eyes, and not nearly so many scars. It’d be easier if he was completely different, but I can still tell it’s him. I wanna break his skull open and hold him so tight he can never leave again.”

“That sounds difficult.” Eletha snorted and Gale blushed. “I apologize. That wasn’t exactly one of my best observations.”

“No, it’s accurate.” He offered her his cup again. She took only a modest sip this time. “I’m a little old to be having my heart broken again by an old sweetheart.”

“Maybe it would be best to talk to him, even if he cannot remember your shared past. It certainly seems to weigh on you.”

“Hmm… every wizard I ever met gave either really great advice, or really bad advice…” She smirked at him. “You seem like you give at least decent advice.”

“I admire your confidence in me. My original idea was that you should give him a good stab and call it even.”

“It might still come to that.” She gave him a sly little smile. “But I’ll exercise some restraint. Unless you want to nurse him back to health.”

“I am afraid I don’t know much healing magic. Such things are best left for Shadowheart,” Gale said thoughtfully, humbled by the issue. Helpfully, he added, “Lae’zel knows quite a bit of practical medicine. I wonder if her knowledge is only applicable to githyanki…”

With a knowing smile, Eletha patted him on the shoulder. As she got up, she planted a kiss on the top of his head. “Get some sleep, Bhin. I didn’t live this long to be taken out by a sleepy wizard.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gale responded dutifully, with a playful smile on his lips and in his eyes.

Against her better judgment, Eletha picked up some more beer and a bottle of wine. Then, she headed into the woods once more, her bow slung over her shoulder.

Creeping through the woods felt good. Familiar. Some of the tension eased from her body as she indulged in the ritual of moving silently.

“You could at least bring them back,” she said after a moment of watching Astarion feed on a stag. 

He startled, eyes reflecting red light and fangs extended. Despite losing his claws to the tadpole’s influence, he still held them out, ready to strike. 

Then he shrank, like a chastened dog or a child caught doing something they knew they shouldn’t. 

“What are you doing here?” Astarion asked her quizzically, still a bit defensive. It was one thing to be willingly fed just a little. It was another to be caught exsanguinating prey.

“I’m not going to get through this sober, and I can’t keep getting drunk.” Eletha found a rock, brushed it off with a rag she always kept in her belt, and sat down. 

As she took out her pipe, she gestured towards the deer. “Go on, don’t want it going to waste.”

Astarion hesitated. Very few people had seen him feed on anything, and he wasn’t very fond of those people or that experience. But Eletha didn’t seem particularly interested in the activity and devoted her time to lighting her pipe and drinking.

When he was done and approached her, she held out the bottle of wine. “If you’re still thirsty.”

Very slowly, as if it might be snatched away at the last second, he reached out for it. “I don’t know what I said to upset you, but-”

“Just sit and shut up for once,” Eletha cut him off, making room for him on the rock. When he didn’t sit, she smacked it repeatedly until he obeyed. 

She took a few large gulps of beer and a long pull on her pipe before clearing her throat.

“We grew up in the Dales. I’m a little older than you, but we were always… sort of friends. We were… weird . Not enough that people disliked us, but enough that we didn’t really fit. So we were friends. 

“You would be a jerk and then be sweet. Like you’d tell me my mother cut my hair weird and then go steal a hat to hide it. You’d sneak into people’s caravans and move stuff around, take something insignificant and put it in someone else’s caravan, shit like that. 

“You had the weirdest sense of humor, but I always said off-putting stuff and you’d laugh.”

Eletha paused to take a drink and think. Astarion thought it prudent to shut up for once, as she instructed. He could take her, but a drunk in close range with a knife wasn’t exactly a fight he was eager to start.

“We were each other’s first kiss. And no, it’s not some sappy story where you’ve been my one and only all this time. But it mattered. Not to feed your ego, but… I don’t think I was ever as happy with someone as I was with you.” 

Astarion smiled brightly, but he turned his head so she couldn’t see. 

“You always wanted to leave and go to Baldur’s Gate. Moving around the Dales wasn’t good enough for you, you wanted to be a real adventurer. You’d spin exciting stories of what we’d do together. It was always us against some monster or villain.”

It was a little worrying that she felt the need to drink an entire skin of beer before she could continue her story. Her voice became distant, strained, as if she was trying to keep the anger out of it. He could hear how hard her heart beat, how deliberate she breathed.

“The last day I saw you was your 30th birthday. I… I did everything I could think of that would make you smile. A new set of lockpicks. I cleaned every caravan until it looked brand new to afford you a good sword. I made your favorite food, bought your favorite wine… 

“We spent the day at this… pristine lake. I can still smell the flowers blooming in the trees…” Eletha cleared her throat. 

“In the perfect darkness of a new moon, with just the stars in the sky, we had the best sex of my life. Like… real, passionate, ‘make love’ sex. Maybe it wasn’t that great, being young and all… 

“But I really loved you.”

Astarion didn’t know if he’d ever let someone talk so long uninterrupted. At first he had to fight the urge to start thinking about something else, but as she went on, he got wrapped up in the story. Like a bard’s song, he could feel the impression those memories had on her. 

He desperately tried to touch the memory in his own mind, as if it might be within his reach now that he knew it was there. 

Eletha sniffled and wiped away her tears on her sleeve.

“The last thing you ever said to me was ‘you’re a fucking menace.’ You’d said ‘I love you, Lori, more than anyone should be allowed to love anything. I wish this moment could last forever.’ 

“And I told you: ‘I want to eat you so you’ll always be with me.’” 

She tried to drink more of her beer, but it was gone. Slowly, Astarion offered her his wine. She took a large swallow and passed it back. 

“I still can’t believe that’s the last thing I said to you. The next morning you were gone. Mother convinced me to stay, said ‘Honey, if he wanted you, he would’ve taken you with him.’

“I… spent a long time… hating you. For- … For what you did. I hated how much I still loved you. 

“I thought I knew how much something could hurt, and that I could handle it… And then I saw you again. And you didn’t remember me. 

“I can’t deliver my grand monologue on how much damage you left behind. My feelings are… meaningless to you. 

“You were everything to me, you’re… a part of me, forever, and I’m a stranger to you. 

“Then you crush me all over again with ‘I love you.’ … At least I know this time it’s a lie.” She sniffled again. 

“I wanted so desperately to take out all my pain on you. To have you fall to your knees and beg me to forgive you. But now I can’t even be mad at you. It’s not fair to be mad at you. I can’t accept an apology, because you’re not the person who owes me one. 

“The boy that broke my heart is gone. I’ve spent over two centuries, alone, hating and loving a ghost.”

Astarion opened his mouth, and luckily for him, the first thought in his mind didn’t escape his lips. 

He chuckled lightly, a twinkling laugh that practically sashayed through the air. “To think, I was the one who got away. If you were a bard, imagine the songs I’d inspire.”

It wasn’t the best response. He probably should have been stabbed. 

The tadpole in his head started to squirm and tingle, a sign that their little stowaways were trying to connect. It stopped suddenly, just as suddenly as the bouquet of her blood hit his nose. Her hand unclenched to reveal that her nails had dug into her palm, causing it to bleed.

“I think we both have stories that could turn a bard’s ballad sour,” she started hollowly before getting up. 

She approached the exsanguinated deer and crouched to pick it up. “Maybe I’ll tell you mine someday.”

Astarion understood that there would be no argument. He had a lot to process already.

When they got back to camp, they found Gale fast asleep by the fire in a rather uncomfortable-looking position. 

Astarion clicked his tongue. “How embarrassing. What do you see in him?”

“Humans are so cute when they’re asleep,” she explained casually, putting down their ‘catch.’ “They’re also very enthusiastic, if a bit… uneducated.”

“I see. He was out bedding goddesses, so he must be good in bed.”

“Oh, so you did get a little smarter,” she teased, smirking. He shot her a glare, which she shrugged off. “Hey it’s been a while. I’m willing to give it another try.”

“How long is a ‘while’, exactly?” he asked curiously. She actually appeared to be thinking about it.

“Hmm… It’s 1492, right? I was… about 220? 50 years sounds about right.” 

Astarion was horrified, then a little smug, then horrified again. 

She patted him on the shoulder. “Yeah. You think about that one.”

He watched her carefully rouse the wizard with soft words and soft touches. He was much bigger than her, but she was a little muscular for her size and used to carrying around her kills. Gently, she led him back to his tent and Astarion took this opportunity to slip into his own.

Chapter Text

“I am enjoying our walks together, aren’t you, Gale?” Astarion said flippantly as they wandered along the road. 

Eletha was always stopping them to poke her nose in something. At least the scenery was mildly pretty. 

Sometimes.

“Sure,” Gale answered unconvincingly after a moment’s hesitation. “In silence.”

Astarion clicked his tongue. “Don’t be like that. It’s boring walking in silence, with nothing but birds and babbling brooks for company.”

“If anything’s babbling, it’s you, Astarion,” Shadowheart remarked playfully, a coy little smile on her lips. Gale made a soft sound of amusement.

Astarion glared at them both.

“So, do you have loves waiting for you once this is all over?” he asked the group after a few moments of silence, unable to stay quiet.

“I think you know the answer to that,” Gale said with a little bit of pain and annoyance.

“You mean just waiting, like a lovesick puppy?” Shadowheart said, a laugh in her voice. “Short-term amusements are much less hassle.”

“Oooh, Shadowheart. I didn’t know you were a little minx,” Astarion cooed seductively, biting his lip a little for effect.

“I prefer long-term. It may be a hassle, but it is more fulfilling,” Gale interrupted with seemingly no consideration for the tone of the conversation.

“Yes, well, where did that get you?” Astarion said under his breath. Shifting back into playfulness, he regarded Shadowheart. “It isn’t hard to believe that such a beautiful flower as you has its pick of lovers.”

“Oh, you made a change to that line. Still needs work, though.” Shadowheart smirked at him. It was replaced by a warning gaze as she added, “Could you not stare so blatantly at my neck when you compliment me?”

“Ah, but it is a lovely neck. Just consider it another compliment to your beauty.”

“You’d best stay away from mine. I would hate to learn what my blood would do to you.”

“I’m not interested in your disgusting blood, Gale,” Astarion snarled at the wizard. “I would bet it’s more sour than a bushel of lemons.”

“Then why do you stare at his neck?” Shadowheart prodded with a knowing smile.

“Just wondering what all the fuss is about,” Astarion answered with a shrug, pointedly looking away from Gale. “The glowing purple lines are most distracting.”

“You are easily distracted.” Shadowheart chuckled at the sour expression he looked back on her with.

“You can borrow this, if you want a different perspective-”

“AGH!”

Astarion clutched onto Gale for dear life.

Upon turning back around, he’d come face-to-face with Eletha’s golden eye, held out to him at eye-level between her thumb and forefinger.

“What is wrong with you?!” he screeched at her. Shadowheart doubled over in uncontrollable laughter. Gale grumbled as he tried to free himself from Astarion’s arms.

“A lot,” Eletha answered with a little mischievous smile as she plopped the magic eye into a container and swirled it around. “Gale, could you give me a hand? A magic one, rather.”

“Certainly, if Astarion is done trying to occupy the same space…”

Astarion’s mood shifted as he seemed to finally be aware of what he was doing. He quickly let go with a sound of disgust.

“It’s not what you think,” he argued petulantly. 

Gale brushed out the wrinkles from his robe before summoning a mage hand to pluck the magic eye from the container. 

“I wasn’t afraid, I was protecting you. Because you’re weak and walking around in a dress.”

“That didn’t make it better,” Shadowheart told him, watching with curious revulsion as the mage hand put Eletha’s magic eye back in.

Astarion put his hand over his mouth, but also couldn’t look away as Eletha held open her eyelids, revealing an empty eye socket.

Gale seemed unbothered.

It was late and Eletha was already most of the way through a bottle of liquor by the time she got to Gale. He was admiring an image of a woman he'd conjured.

“Mystra?” she asked, trying to not sound too sure of her answer.

“Ah! I didn't notice you.” He dismissed the image, looking a bit embarrassed. “I was just… practicing.”

“Mmm. Secret’s safe with me.” She smiled at him, just a little mocking but full of fondness, like she found a child doing something a little naughty but harmless.

“Elves have a strong connection to the Weave. What is your experience with it, if you don't mind me asking?”

Eletha opened her mouth, but snapped it shut. The first thing that came to her mind was dark and… deeply personal. 

After a moment of contemplation, wherein Gale didn’t miss how she had to push the dark thoughts away, she smiled. 

“I have a wizard friend, we’ve been on a few adventures. Gave me my magic eye. He actually taught me some spells, but… I haven't been quite able to… get to them, so to speak.”

“Ah, that explains why you are so adept at handling my peculiarities,” he said with a chuckle and a smile. “Here, let us experience the Weave together.”

Magic surrounded them in a comforting embrace. 

Gale felt that comfort, until it was replaced by flashes of memories that didn’t belong to him. 

Elven faces, angered, weeping, blissful. They were somehow familiar and monstrous at the same time, distorted by their expressions. His skin was not his own, it felt more like a tight suit suffocating his body that no longer belonged to him.

A sensation cut through. Terrible, terrifying, transfixing. 

He’d known it before, briefly. Elminster insisted he knew how it felt to be dominated by magic before he used it on another. That horrible feeling of looking through his eyes but being unable to connect thought to action, limbs and tongue at someone else’s control.

A pervading feeling of loneliness, isolation. A loss of self.

Guilt.

A sound escaped his lips. A gasp? A strangled cry?

A hand squeezed his. Gale looked over to Eletha only to see an apology in her eyes. She realized he’d seen her thoughts. Perhaps she’d seen his. 

“Let me show you my favorite things,” she said softly, reassuringly, and that feeling of comfort washed over him once more.

He is floating in a milky-blue pool and it is effortless. The water is the same temperature as his skin. It is as if he is hovering in mid-air. 

There is not a single cloud in the sky and there are more stars than he ever thought possible. Someone is sitting beside him, delicately experimenting with their lute. The man makes a joke that he can’t make out but he still laughs.

Standing high on a mountain range, he looks out on Faerûn, its splendor laid out before him. He can make out his home, places he’s been, places he wishes to see. The air is sharp and crisp, it hurts but it makes him feel alive. The unspoilt white snow is hard on the eyes, but it is beautiful and makes him giddy.

A young man is intently focused on his face, pink tongue stuck out between his lips, tapping his filtrum in concentration. He’s suddenly aware that his vision wasn’t complete as things become blurry and then bleed into focus. The young man smiles, nervous and proud at the same time, and he thinks that it is so hard to open his heart to humans. Their lives are so bright and brief, yet they could be so beautiful and warm. He offers up a prayer that this one will be around a while longer, because he is sweet and stupid and brilliant. His heart opens just a little and he hopes that it isn’t a mistake.

Rain patters down around him as he sits under the protection of a decrepit roof. With the iconography, some shattered, others overgrown, it was likely a temple of some sort. Beside him sits a figure, robed in black. Its hood is cast back, revealing a beautiful woman. Much too beautiful. He’s impressed and enticed, and a little jealous. She lifts a delicate teacup to her blood-red lips and takes a sip. He tells a joke and her eyes, red and full of laughter, leave their little fire and look at him. She laughs, revealing long fangs, and it is probably the most honest laughter he’s ever heard.

He is alone, but he is not lonely. He stands in a field of flowers, watching a herd of animals graze. One comes up to him and he offers his hand to be inspected. It licks his fingers and demands the fruit from his pack. This will be his new companion.

Faces and scenes flicker across his vision. So many cobblers to repair his boots. His fingers are rough and calloused. The young man, with gray in his hair and beard, teaches him magic and he feels like a child again, thrilled by the Weave using him as a conduit.

He is keenly aware that he cannot solve every problem, but he will solve the ones he can. He will never make up for things he’s done, but he will not let that stop him from doing some good. With a withering sigh, he draws his longsword and drops from the trees to meet the bandits he’s been tracking for several days.

Eletha’s hand left his and the magic bled away back into the Weave.

Gale had to come up with his own words and feelings now. As articulate and witty as he was, he was failing to find the right way to express himself. 

There was a pain in his chest, nostalgia for a life he hadn’t lived. He placed his hand on his chest. “Thank you… For sharing that with me.”

Eletha offered him a subdued smile. “When this is all over, I thought I could accompany you back to Waterdeep. You know, to keep you out of trouble.”

Gale was a little stunned. Maybe it was just the aftershocks of their magical connection. 

“That won’t be necessary. I’m sure you will have other more important things to do.”

“I’m a leaf on the breeze,” she said, moving her hand through the air, imitating a leaf sailing on a gust of wind. “I go where I please. And it would please me to travel with you.” 

Gale supposed that everyone else belonged in Baldur’s Gate, whereas his home had always been Waterdeep. They were the only two who had little to no reason to stick around after whatever transpired.

Assuming they lived, that was. 

“That would be… Yes, I think that would be a grand idea.”

Gale stammered as she teasingly patted his cheek and walked away.

Eletha owed Shadowheart a bottle of wine and a chat, but on her way, she stopped at Astarion’s tent. He was ‘looking’ at himself in a mirror and undoubtedly smirking to himself as he watched her walk over.

“Spying is rude,” she said with a little humor. He huffed as he let his hand fall to his side and twirled around to face her.

“I’m just making sure my long-lost love doesn’t get lost in another’s eyes,” he cooed, mischief in his eyes, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. Eletha snorted.

“That’s quite the imagination you have. Writing our wedding vows for us? What flowers will we be using?”

Astarion smirked at her. “You’re cute. For an old hag.” 

For a split second, Astarion panicked and tried to formulate a way to brush the insult off, but then Eletha let out a small laugh and all was well. 

“I was just thinking about… how I’ve forgotten what I look like. Or what I used to look like. Just another thing Cazador took from me.”

“I’m sure the others would share if you asked. You know, use the tadpoles.” 

Astarion sighed wistfully.

“But they don’t know me like you do. They don’t… love me,” he explained very carefully. “To be seen through a lover’s eyes?” He punctuated his point with a delicious little hum.

“I don’t think I see you the way other people see you.” Eletha sounded almost… regretful of this fact. 

“What, am I monstrous? A vicious vampire in a children’s story book?” he asked with a strained laugh. 

He actually did worry that it could be the case. It was good to be feared, there was power in fear… but he didn’t want to be feared by her. 

In a low voice, not quite sultry, but just as inviting, he pleaded, “I want to know what you see when you look at me. I want to be… seen.”

Eletha hesitated. She looked down at their feet in contemplation. 

Her throat was already raw from her moment with Gale. This would hurt, open the old wound further, but a wise woman once told her that the wound wouldn’t fully heal until she opened it all the way and scraped out the rot. 

She had to run towards the danger, or else it would follow her forever.

Astarion felt his tadpole squirm and tingle again, but this time she didn’t stop the connection. He relaxed and let whatever she wanted to share with him come into his mind’s eye.

He was in an elven caravan, littered with all kinds of things, like way too many boots and shirts of varying fashions, knives that had no business being unsheathed on the floor, threatening to take off a toe. 

He sighed in frustration, in a voice not his own, as he picked up some items and threw them out of his path.

A young man sat at a mirror, trying to tie up his hair in just the right way with a ribbon.

“I think the humans have a story about the dangers of staring at your reflection all day,” he said in Eletha’s voice in a mix of annoyance and gentle ribbing. She sounded younger, more hopeful, than he knew her voice to be, but he recognized the way she inflected when making a joke instead of a jab.

“Lori, you fool, we must strive for perfection in all things,” the young man said to her in a haughty tone. 

Finally satisfied with his look, he flashed a grin at her. 

Astarion was struck by how… natural it looked. 

“Tell me what you think.”

“So beautiful, they’ll be throwing money at us.” The young man beamed. Eletha sighed and shook her head. “I’ll have to protect your pretty face with my body. It would be a crime against the gods to scar such loveliness.”

With an audible snap, Astarion’s vision cracked down the middle and distorted into two very similar but obviously different images. 

On the left was the young man, smiling and laughing. His white hair was lustrous and bouncy, cascading from his head in a waterfall of curls that he tamed with a ribbon. His skin was pale and slightly blue, but flushed on the cheeks and ears. His golden eyes were round and bright, full of life and mischief and love. His voice was light and playful. The light of the caravan seemed to radiate from him like a halo.

The right vision was dark and discomforting. This figure, at first glance, wasn’t much different. With how jovial the young one was, it was no surprise that his face was graced with laugh lines. However, there was no humor about this one. His hair, while still curly and white, was dull and dampened in comparison. His skin was even paler, almost gray, and lacked the subtle glow that gave his younger counterpart vibrance. His body language was guarded, tense, like a wary animal. From under lowered eyebrows glared a pair of red eyes, sharp and narrow, lifeless. When he spoke, his voice was dark and hard, on the edge of a snarl with plenty of bite to go with his sharp teeth.

“You would do that for me, darling?” the two said in unison, one joyous, the other mocking. 

In camp, Astarion could feel the connection attempt to sever, but something held it firmly in place.

“You would look good with some scars,” the young one said, only a little bit teasing, his smile dazzling. “Like a real adventurer! Each scar a story.”

“I have scars of my own, with stories that would make your hair fall out.” The older one grinned, it was a joke, but there was no laughter, no good intent. It was a wolf’s smile, full of threat. 

The grin dropped just as suddenly as it appeared and was replaced by a sneer. “Look what you did to me! You abandoned me and now what am I? A monster. You have no idea what it feels like, to lose everything, to belong to someone else.”

Eletha tried to speak, but it came out as mangled sounds of disagreement and anguish. He felt the tadpole lash as she tried even harder to stop their connection. 

His vision cracked once more into more slivers, each holding an elven face that he just barely couldn’t recognize. They looked down their noses at him, full of judgment and revulsion. His heart clenched with guilt. 

They spoke over one another in a flurry of insults and remarks, all decrying in some way, “How could you do this to me? How could you do this to us? Abandon us? Have you no heart?”

Astarion felt the world fall out from under his feet as the tadpole finally broke the connection. 

When he came to his senses, Eletha was touching his cheek with one hand and covering her blue eye with the other. 

He swatted her hand away, the sensation of it overwhelming, but he soon wished it back. Instead of asking for her to do it again, or grabbing her hand and holding it to his face, he glared.

“What is wrong with you?” he spat at her. 

Dropping her hands to her side, Eletha’s eyes went wide, then lowered to the ground.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to see that. I-I just wanted to show you how beautiful you are,” she managed to say around a tightness in her throat. 

Without further explanation, which she was probably incapable of offering, she fled in the direction of Shadowheart’s tent.

Astarion huffed to himself. 

He barely had the capacity for introspection, now the waters were muddied by someone else’s perceptions of him. Did his old love think he was a monster, or did she think he believed himself a monster?

No wonder Cazador snatched him from death’s grip. No wonder Eletha fell in love with him. 

No wonder he lured thousands of people to their deaths.

The next morning, Gale and Karlach sat together eating breakfast while the others got ready.

“Karlach… a hypothetical question for you,” he said quietly, not wishing to be overheard.

“I dunno, Gale, I’m not really the philosophy type,” she rebutted with a chuckle, mimicking hitting herself on the head, indicating she wasn’t as smart as him.

“It’s not a matter of philosophy. Well, I suppose it is, in a way…”

“Spit it out, Magic Man.”

“If someone- not me, of course- detected a hint of romantic interest in them from another, unnamed individual, what might that someone do about it?”

Karlach squinted at him, trying to decipher his roundabout question.

“Whoever it is,” Karlach started with a sigh, “just talk to them, Gale. And leave out the hypotheticals.”

“Talking. Right. I’m good at that,” he said, as if the thought just occurred to him.

“Not really. Do all wizards have to complicate things just so the rest of us can’t understand and make us feel stupid?” 

“I apologize if I’ve done that, Karlach, it was not my intention.” He’d been sincere and Karlach could tell, so she let it go. “Perhaps we wizards do it to talk to each other, to outwit one another, and it… bleeds into our outer life. If it makes us seem inhospitable to others, well… Yes, I can see how it would alienate us from non-wizards. A feedback loop, if you will.”

Karlach bit back the urge to tell him he was still doing it. “Good thing Lethi seems used to wizards, yeah?”

“Oh yes, she is quite adept at understanding the intricacies of a wizard’s mind. But she’s not afraid to be the blunt instrument necessary for schooling us when a wizard’s touch is not the right touch.”

“And Fangs kinda likes the ‘inhospitable.’”

“Astarion is an interesting creature. He paints himself as suave and charming, but I would not consider him polite or debonair. His off-putting humor and mannerisms are the real charm, once you get used to him.”

“Mm… Given it a lot of thought, have you?” Karlach asked with a suggestive lift of her eyebrows that Gale didn’t seem to notice.

“I give everything a lot of thought, Karlach. That is what separates a good wizard from a brilliant one.”

“What makes a humble wizard?”

Gale chuckled. “When a wizard is humbled, it is usually a split second before they die.”

Eletha and Gale took their turn staying behind at camp, cooking and easing the pains of their journey out of their bones. With a bottle of wine, she chose to keep him company as he tended to supper.

“I’ve thought about that moment we shared under the Weave,” he said fondly after a moment of silence passed.

“Oh?” she responded in surprise. It wasn’t exactly the answer Gale was hoping for. Tentatively, he asked, “Do you?”

“It’s nothing against you, but… I try not to.” Eletha hurriedly took a fortifying sip of wine. “It was nice, in the end. I’m… ashamed you saw the first part.”

“What you chose to share with me was wonderful,” Gale reassured her with an easy smile. It gave way to his usual manner of pensiveness. “I’m not a big believer in fate, but I do believe in serendipity. Life is a tempest of events that sometimes we brace against and sometimes embrace.”

He looked her in the eye, open and bold. Eletha could feel her heart flutter. “You’re one such event that, one day soon perhaps, I’d like to embrace.”

“Bhin, don’t play with an old elf’s heart,” she said with a nervous chuckle, quick to return to her drink and staring at the campfire flames. “What does ‘perhaps’ mean to you, exactly?”

“If I recall correctly, the Waterdhavian Dictionary of the Common Tongue of Faerûn defines it as an adverb that conveys the meaning of 'it may be that', or 'possibly'.” Gale laughed as Eletha rolled her eyes dramatically. “Sorry, sometimes I just can't help being quite insufferable.”

A lot of that going around, Eletha thought to herself, knowing better than to say it aloud.

“Is that how you see me? As just a ‘young human male’?” Gale asked her when she had nothing to say.

“Isn’t that what you are?”

“I’m not that young for a human… Although I suppose I am comparatively young for a mage of my skill.” Gale clicked his tongue as he mixed their supper. “I suppose I am quite young compared to you.”

“I’ll stop calling you Bhin if you want,” she offered. Gale shook his head.

“I kind of like it. Keeps me humble.”

“Yeah, if only I was around to keep you humble before you put ancient magic in your chest.” Gale laughed.

“Indeed.” 

A few more moments passed in silence. Bonnet passed by and Gale offered her some scraps from his preparations. 

Then he asked, “Is that… a no?”

“I’m honestly really flattered that someone like you would even consider… me, in any fashion. I just… don’t want to drag someone into my problems,” Eletha told him honestly, voice tinged with regret. “With- well, you know who, back in my life… A lot of old demons are getting dragged back out of the hole I buried them in.”

“I understand. There is a lot to revisit there. Time heals all wounds, so they say, but there is no rule on how long it takes.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt your feelings. You’re a good man. You don’t deserve that.”

“It’s quite alright. I respect your honesty and compassion.”

“The honest answer was that I’m a bitter old lady with no self-worth and abandonment issues,” she said with a little chuckle.

“That’s… very self-reflective.”

“I surround myself with really smart people so they can tell me the answer.” Eletha shrugged. “And it’s really funny when I pretend to be ridiculously stupid and they lose their minds.”

“You… don’t do that to me, do you?”

“Give it a few years.” Patting his back sympathetically, she went on, “I would still like to accompany you back to Waterdeep, when this is all done.”

“You don’t wish to go home yourself? I’ve been thinking, with all this traveling, that it would be marvelous to have you as my guide through the Dalelands.”

“I… can’t go back there,” Eletha said definitively, taking a long drink of wine until her bottle was empty.

“I see…” 

Gale was worried, but he tried to not let it show too much. 

Eletha didn’t always respond well to concern, much like Astarion. It was a little funny how alike they were in some ways and so different in others. 

“Well, if that’s the case, my home will always be open to you.”

“That’s kind of you. I’ll have to introduce you to all my other traveling friends,” she told him with a wink. “They’re a bunch of weirdos, so-”

“I’ll fit right in?”

“Exactly.”

Old habits die hard. 

When Eletha felt herself slipping, felt that familiar darkness creep back in, she stalked their surroundings while the others slept. 

It’d be nice to have fresh meat, sometimes she found something worth foraging, but that wasn’t the purpose. The point was to wade through the darkness and wash away all sense of self. 

Here in the woods, there was no past or future, no responsibilities except the need to survive.

Her sense of self came back as something crashed through the brush. 

Astarion. 

As satisfying as it would’ve been to put an arrow in him for bothering her, she scanned the woods for the hidden threat instead.

“It’s just me,” Astarion told her giddily, limping to his feet. Smiling like a fool, swaying in a little circle, arms thrown out wide, he cried out merrily, “There you are! My… Well, I don’t know what you are. You’re not… my darling, my dear, or my sweetheart. We’ve tasted each other’s flesh and I can’t even call you my friend.”

“The hell happened to you?” Eletha asked, slinging her bow over her shoulder. He was scuffed up, and not just from running through the bushes.

“I found a bear. Not your bear, obviously. He took a little of my blood, I took all of his,” he explained smugly, swaying and gesticulating animatedly. Fixing his hair, he asked, “What are you doing out here all alone?”

“Running away. Going to Baldur’s Gate all on my own,” she told him casually, not exactly as scathing as she expected it to come out. Astarion laughed and it was so honest and familiar that it made her chest hurt.

“I suppose I deserve that.” He sighed in satisfaction. “You gave me a lot to think about, you know.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“And you call me a cock.” 

Reflecting the moonlight, his red eyes flickered as he watched her remove the stopper from her waterskin and take a drink. 

He sobered a bit in order to sound serious. “Those elves. In that vision you showed me. They were our families?”

Eletha took out and put back the stopper several times, sometimes even raising the skin to her lips before pulling it away. His heightened sense of smell could tell it was a liquor, stronger than the one or two cups she’d have with their evening meal. Sometimes he could taste it in her blood when he asked for just a sip.

“Yes,” she managed to answer eventually.

“I don’t know what I want to do. For so long I raged against Cazador for taking my old life away from me, but if I ran off so easily… Would I want to see them again? … Would they want to see me?” he asked himself. “Now I have someone who knows me. How tragic that it’s under such circumstances. Or is it fortuitous? If you’d met me back in Baldur’s Gate, you’d just be another snack for Cazador.”

Eletha took a large swallow from her waterskin and, before she could close it, he took it from her. 

He had to keep from choking, its strength surprising him. She must have an iron liver to be knocking back stuff like this. 

He fixed her with his gaze, his eyes roaming over her face, following her scars and lingering on her lips before flicking up to her eyes.

“You told me I have to ask you for what I want,” Astarion whispered, somewhere between dreamy and husky. “I want… for us to be friends. I want to be your Star again, if just for a moment.”

Eletha reached up and threaded her fingers into his curls as she crushed their lips together. Her ears were deaf to everything but the blood rushing through them and their soft moans. The only sensation she knew was his lips against hers and their bodies pressed flush against each other.

For a while now, she’d been walking along the edge of a pit with no discernible bottom. It was the pit where she threw all of the things she left behind. Her family. Her homeland. Her heart. 

She’d danced on that edge before, longing for something unavailable to her. Something hidden in that pit would sing out to her, bidding her to wallow in that comforting darkness. 

But she knew that if she went in, she would not come out.

It was so easy, too easy, to open herself back up to the pain he brought her. It was so easy to accept his caresses and meaningless words of affection. With him, she could revel in self-destruction, in the darkness, until the last vestiges of her sanity gave way and she succumbed to madness, where she could finally be free from herself.

The body pressed against her was cold. Its breath was practiced. It didn’t smell quite right. Its movements, while perfectly in concert with her own, were mechanical and impersonal. Its touch was just a bit too forceful, lacking in tenderness and comfort.

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t what she wanted. She’d thought about this for centuries and it felt wrong.

Eletha pushed Astarion away forcefully. His mouth hung open in shock. Hurt reflected in his eyes. 

She tried to speak, to tell him something, to explain herself. There were so many things she had to say to him.

Then she braced herself on the tree they’d been using for leverage and vomited. Violently. When she was done, her knees wobbled and tears streamed down her face. 

Astarion made a disgusted noise, then clicked his tongue. “Aww. Poor thing. Let’s get you to bed, shall we?”

Thankfully, everyone was asleep. It didn’t look too good, half-dragging Eletha’s limping body into camp.

After making her as comfortable as he could in her tent, Astarion rose to leave. Unexpectedly, her hand snatched his.

“I won’t… let him hurt you… anymore,” she said deliriously, her blue eye hazy with exhaustion. Astarion laughed quietly.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he whispered to her. He tried to leave again, but her grip was surprisingly firm.

“If you want… to see them… I can take you…” From the sound of her voice, he could tell that it wasn’t just the exhaustion that made it hard to speak. “You have to promise… to not let them… hurt me… again.”

“Why would they hurt you?” Astarion asked firmly, protectively. Anger flashed in his eyes.

“Because… I did something horrible…” Eletha tried to force back her tears. His shoulders sagged as he sighed. Of course. She was just fucked up from drinking. It did seem to be happening with increased frequency…

“You’re almost as much of a goody-two-shoes as Wyll. There’s no way you did something so bad your family would hurt you.” Astarion managed to get free of her grip and he attempted to tuck her in tightly so she couldn’t escape again. “Now get some rest.”

“No. I don’t want to,” she argued, fighting against the blanket. Quietly, as if the thing she feared could hear them, she whispered, “The bad thing is there.”

“The bad th- You’re a mean old bitch, not some child hiding in their mother’s skirts,” he sniped, reaching for one of her many bags. This one clinked as he rummaged around. “There must be a sleep potion in here somewhere…”

“You can… call me… your friend…”

“I wish I could,” Astarion said with a disappointed sigh, “but you won’t remember this in the morning.”

Chapter Text

They were going to finally deal with the goblins and rescue the druid Halsin when the sky opened up with a vicious storm. Everyone preferred the comfort of their tents, except for Eletha. In just her small clothes, she wandered around the drowning camp with nary a bother. She took this time to bathe herself and Bonnet.

Astarion watched her from the comfort of his tent. She looked like a drowned rat, but was whistling up a tune like it was just another sunny morning.

From across the camp, he noticed the flap of Gale’s tent shift. It was probably just the wind…

When she walked past Astarion’s tent, he stuck his head out of the flap and growled at her, “What is wrong with you? Get in here this instant!”

Eletha stood under the awning of his tent, rain dripping off her skin and what little hair she had. “What’s your problem? I’m not bothering you.”

“Just get in here,” he grumbled before disappearing into his tent once more. Rolling her eyes, she followed.

Muttering and grumbling some more in annoyance, Astarion convinced her to take off her wet clothes. He practically ripped them off of her when she didn’t move fast enough.

“Hey, watch it,” Eletha told him sharply, smacking away his hand. “A girl might get the wrong idea.”

“You’re dripping all over my tent,” Astarion complained, not shying away as she kicked off her clothes. 

It occurred to them both that this was the first time in a very long time that he’d seen her completely naked. Well, except for the new moon, but that didn’t count. 

“You told me to get in here.” Astarion grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her down onto the ground with him.

Eletha stared at him, eyes wide, until he threw a fresh towel over her head and started roughly scrubbing the water off of her head.

“I can dry myself, you know.”

“I doubt you can tell that you’re wet, so I don’t believe you.”

Astarion hesitated as he finished her hair and moved on to her back. He ran a finger along a rather prominent scar that went from shoulder to opposite hip. 

Putting on a smirk and a flirtatious tone, he said, “Aren’t you a proper adventurer? And I thought those scars on your face were just for show.”

Eletha hummed, distracted. Astarion wilted a little, disappointed that he failed to open a conversation with her.

On her neck, he found two faded marks. Clearly a vampire’s bite, but unlike his, they were neat, dainty, and close together. Whoever sank their fangs into Eletha’s neck had done so gently, perhaps intimately.

Astarion pressed his nose into the back of her neck, behind her ear where she kept her hair short. She made a small noise, a little startled, a bit excited. Taking in a deep breath, he groaned and sighed. The scent was somehow familiar and new, sparking something in the dark recesses of his memory. 

In a low voice he murmured, “You smell amazing.”

“That’s what happens when you bathe,” Eletha rebutted with a laugh, but he could tell her heart sped up and that the sound of his voice by her ear sent a thrill up her spine. “You know… it’s unlikely you’ll find much to feed on tonight, and tomorrow is a big day. You could have some of my blood. If you want.”

“You’re such a good friend, my dear.” 

Astarion smiled to himself against her hair. Her smell was intoxicating. After pressing a kiss to her neck, making her breath hitch, he very carefully sank his teeth into her flesh. 

As he drank, savoring the taste, he pressed her back to his chest and let his hands wander over her skin. When one brushed against her breast, she managed to smack it away. The other trailed down her abdomen, and he barely passed her belly button before she snatched that one away too.

“Naughty boy,” Eletha chastised, humor mixing with the edge in her voice. Astarion took his fangs out of her neck and chuckled.

“Please forgive me. I couldn’t resist,” he purred as she turned around to face him, an invitation in his eyes. “Aren’t high elves supposed to be too imperious for things like dancing in the rain like some common druid?”

“Oh, you want me to be mean, is that it?” she asked, stopping the bleeding on her neck, eyebrows raised.

“I said imperious. Noble. You’re more cold than commanding,” Astarion teased, haughty and confident.

Eletha hardened her eyes. With just a thought, they became sharp and clear, like a predator’s. Her voice was clipped and serious, as if she was another person. “Is this what you want?”

Astarion leaned forward just a little bit, eyes alight with delight. “Oh, yeeees. I think I like this side of you.”

In a flash, Eletha’s hand was on his jaw, controlling his head, digging in just enough to make him uncomfortable. A small gasp of surprise and arousal escaped his lips. For a moment, she looked down on him as if he was some trifling irritant, unworthy of her attention but demanding it.

Then her eyes softened and a smile bloomed on her lips. Wiping away her blood from his chin, she laughed. It was a little shocking how easily she changed. “I think the rain has stopped.”

Astarion watched as she gathered up her wet clothes, not even bothering to put them back on. “You’re going to leave, just like that? I’m hurt.”

“Oh, Astarion, you started the game. I merely finished it.”

“I wouldn’t call the game finished yet,” Astarion insisted, regaining his composure, putting on his ‘I’m starving and you look like a perfect meal’ eyes.

“You should play this game with Gale, I bet it’d be fun,” she told him with a little girlish giggle, like they were two friends discussing their crushes. If either of them had any hair, they’d probably be braiding it. 

Astarion scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Please, Gale is colder than you. Although… I have to admit, he is quite handsome…”

“And powerful. Well, he was. And have you been to a wizard’s tower? It’s full of secrets and valuables and dangerous artifacts.” A wicked little grin started to show on his face and she tittered again. “Besides, Gale likes you.”

“Gale likes you, my dear.”

“Oh, yes, that’s why he found a bunch of books on vampirism and ancient artifacts that protect one from the sun. Because he likes me.”

“You’re having a laugh.”

“And the way you two chirp at each other like birds in spring? I have to keep you apart or I’ll get a headache. And he was very upset when you got excited about being beheaded. Personally, I’d like someone’s hands around my neck. But you have to do it in such a way that they don’t fight for air. You just stop the blood from going to their head and they just…” Eletha made a little gesture with her free hand and softly went ‘poof.’

“You’ve been drinking too much,” Astarion insisted, shaking his head.

“Okay, keep pining for my old used-up body that you’ve had before and deny yourself the powerful wizard that has done some inventive things with a goddess.” Astarion opened his mouth to argue with her, but she flitted out the tent as if propelled by faerie wings.

When Eletha stalked her prey, moving silently through the trees and grass, it was with reverence.

In the heat of battle, she kept her head, allowing Karlach or Lae’zel to swim in blood and gore while she managed the field.

In the goblin camp, she walked tall and her presence commanded the vile creatures to back away. Astarion saw it return, that regal severity in her eyes and words. The soul passed down to her through the ages had to be thirsting for this moment, to have lesser beings groveling at its feet and brought to heel with word or blade.

Half the night he worried that this day would end in chaotic bloodshed, a lot of it their own. He could hear Shadowheart and Lae’zel offer prayers to their respective goddesses. Karlach danced around in front of her tent out of nervousness, not gaiety, oblivious to his staring. Wyll tended to his blade and armor with fanatic fervor and offered Astarion a serious nod of camradic understanding. Gale practiced his spells for perhaps the ten-thousandth time in his life and when he met Astarion’s eyes, he smiled cockily.

Eletha had sat by the fire, staring into its flames, her bare knees crushed into the stones that surrounded it. For a while now, he considered her naive. Despite her age and experience, she still insisted on helping others with little reward. But unlike Wyll, she sometimes knew that people couldn’t be helped and served her own interests instead.

Then they were in that kennel. A proper kennel, not the one Cazador kept him in. Those little goblin children threw stones at that bear and it roared in pain and rage. Eletha’s ears twitched and somehow, he could hear her breath shudder for just a moment. The goblins giggled and clapped with glee and before anyone could say anything, Eletha’s elven longsword was wet with blood and little goblin heads rolled on the floor.

After that, Astarion didn’t think her so naive. Judging by the looks on the others’ faces when this small scrap was done, they all were recalculating their opinion of their leader.

As Eletha cleaned her blade, the cave bear reshaped into a man, the largest wood elf any of them had ever seen. He even rivaled Karlach in height and thickness. His body was soft, but not patriar soft. No, those hands could crush stones and lift ancient trees and his core was thick and sturdy, like a great oak resisting a storm.

“I would ask for your forgiveness for my appearance, but…” Halsin looked down at the headless bodies of the goblins. Everyone else was pointedly not looking at them.

“I’m all for believing any creature can overcome its nature, but I can’t abide animal cruelty,” Eletha explained, voice becoming a little humored as she spoke. 

Her severity melted away and she grinned at him, a hand on her chin as she appraised his appearance. “Bonnet is going to adore you. I’m almost disappointed that I don’t bring her to these sorts of things.”

“Haa, I’m sure I will enjoy making her acquaintance-”

“Bonnet is a bear, by the way,” Gale said helpfully. Shadowheart snorted, strangling a sudden laugh.

“Ah, that explains your rush to my rescue.” His attitude changed once he noticed that they were all infected with mindflayer tadpoles. After some discussion, they came to an understanding, but first thing was first.

The hunt was on.

After dispatching the goblins guarding the entrance to the kennel, Eletha stopped Astarion with a gentle touch on his arm. That harsh look was back, but there was a mischievous air to it. She pointed a finger up and he scanned the temple rafters for what she was indicating.

“What do you say? Shall we rain terror down on the Absolute’s idiots?”

Astarion gasped softly and touched a hand to his chest above his dead heart. “I think I’m falling for you all over again.”

This time, when Eletha aimed to put a dent in their alcohol stores, it was out of revelry and not a need to push back a deep dark sadness that threatened to crush her into dust. Gone was the icy chill, or the dour frown, or the knives in her eyes. 

She disturbed Gale’s peace with an offering of wine and a broad smile.

“What’s on your mind, Bhin?” she asked as she poured him a drink.

“It’s just… a beautiful night, don’t you think?” Eletha let him paint a picture for her of a normal night for him, fraught with wist.

“What’s Tara like?” she asked after he cleared up their misunderstanding.

“Astarion reminds me of her somewhat. The same sharp tongue. And sharp teeth,” Gale explained, perhaps a little oblivious to the joke he just made.

“Then I guess we’d get along.”

“As long as you don’t try to rub her belly. She hates that.” 

“But what if I want to rub your belly?” Eletha asked with a smile before putting the mouth of her bottle to her lips.

“I’m afraid I’ve experienced pleasures far more thrilling than tummy tickling,” Gale argued quite seriously before going on a small tangent about his celestial love life. Then it dawned on him. “Wait. You were flirting with me. For once, I think it is I who has had too much wine…”

“You know, Astarion doesn’t really like his belly rubbed either, but he does like having his ears gently touched and a nice stroke down the spine,” Eletha explained, demonstrating how one could pet either a cat or a certain elf.

“Are you trying to foist me onto another?” She smiled as she filled her pipe with something more fragrant than her usual tobacco. Gale didn’t think that what he said was humorous in any way, but Eletha often seemed amused by some private joke.

“Young ones should stick together. And a vampire seems like a half-step down to a normal person after a goddess, yes?” she asked after drawing in a bit of smoke. 

“Your logic is… interesting, to say the least.”

“Yeah, well, if you don’t blow up, you’ll live a long time, right? And I’m not exactly confident in my longevity, elf blood or no,” Eletha said before drinking some more.

“I believe I understand what you are trying to say.” Gale sipped his wine and Eletha refilled his glass. “I want to say this is disappointing… but I find it so… heartwarming, that you have so much concern for Astarion.”

“Don’t let him know,” she false-whispered, holding up her hand to hide her mouth and giving him a wink. More seriously, Eletha asked, “Can I paint you my own picture?”

“I wasn’t aware you had artistic pur- Oh. Yes, a story.” Gale chuckled under his breath. She wrapped her smile around her pipe, sparing him a witty remark that sparkled in her eyes. “Please. Speak to your heart’s content.”

“Despite being, well, him, Astarion was my only friend. In all honesty, he was the only one I could relate to or who could make me feel safe, even when he was getting us in trouble,” she told him fondly, building up her own wist. Then her smile fell and she took a drink. “Then one day, he was gone. And I thought I would never have a friend again. Never thought I could love someone or be loved.”

“Admirable that you haven’t chased him with a sharpened stick by now,” Gale said while she uncorked another bottle of wine for him.

“Anyway. I wandered for quite a while, alone. Sometimes I picked up an animal companion, but there was a lot of time where it was just me and the stars. Solitude felt good. I would meet people, but I might as well have been a construct, for all the care I afforded them. 

“There was this village, it’s not there anymore. They grew the best apples. For decades I traded with this one fellow whenever I came through. We would share news, like what creatures had been seen lately, how the weather was shifting unexpectedly. He would offer me this delicious apple brandy, ‘ recipe passed down for ten generations!’ he would boast. He let me set up my tent behind his house and his wife would insist on feeding me. When his children were little, they would play with whatever companion I had at the time. Then his grandchildren would play with them.

“Eventually, as most Aethen do, he died. The next time I came through, his son gave me one last bottle of the family brandy and thanked me for being his father’s friend. I didn’t even know we were friends.” 

Eletha toyed with her bottle and took a puff of her pipe, clearly trying to calm herself. 

“It was weird, how much it hurt. I hadn’t lost anything more important than a comfortable pair of boots since Astarion left.”

“A good pair of boots is hard to come by,” Gale said enthusiastically, happy to relate. He realized it probably wasn’t appropriate, given how Eletha seemed to be hovering on the edge of tears. Then she laughed and raised her bottle to his glass in cheers.

“The point being. After that, I was able to admit that sometimes, I was lonely. Little by little, I stopped being so cold. Actually learned people’s names. It still took me a while to realize when I was friends with someone.” Eletha looked over to Astarion, who was conversing, or rather flirting, with Halsin. A fond but sad smile graced her lips. “I look at him and I remember what it was like, being alone, afraid of the pain that comes with letting something in just to have it taken from you through no fault of your own. A human’s life is like the blink of an eye compared to mine, so what is an elf’s to an immortal? A single beat of a hummingbird’s heart?”

Gale was formulating a clever but sincere response when Eletha looked him in the eye so intensely that it made him stop.

“It must have been hard for you too,” she said bittersweetly. He looked down at his reflection in his wine. It was. It was hard for him. Then Eletha giggled. “There. Have I thrown you off my scent?”

Gale chuckled despite the lump traveling up his throat. “Honestly? No. You’ve only managed to become more interesting and complex.”

“Damn! I’ll have to find some way to become more repugnant.” With a sigh, Eletha stood. A wicked smirk tugged at her lips as she spied Astarion moving back to his tent. “I have some ideas. Please make sure Wyll doesn’t drink too much, I already warned him about the dangers of becoming me.”

“A drunken drowning would be quite the anticlimactic end for the Blade of Frontiers, I agree.” 

Gale watched as Eletha walked away and hooked arms with Astarion. It was strange, watching the two. They would throw on a different mask in the blink of an eye, become someone else to suit their needs or whims. 

Aside from them, the most duplicitous was Shadowheart, and even then, she was just guarded. People said he was hard to read sometimes, but Gale always felt like he was being honest when the situation didn’t necessitate secrecy.

It was sometimes hard to believe that they were ever in love. The rest of the time, it made perfect sense.

“Fancy taking a walk? Get away for a bit?” Eletha asked Astarion conspiratorially as her hand caught his elbow and snaked up his bicep. He lifted his eyebrows in surprise before putting on his own wicked grin.

“Oh? You want to go out into the woods, alone, with me? What will Gale think?”

“It’s a walk, darling. You look like you need to get out of here,” she answered, imitating him. He was flattered.

“Then lead the way.”

They walked quite a ways; Eletha smoking her pipe and Astarion taking sips of wine as they went. Eventually they came upon a hollow of trees illuminated by the brilliance of the moon.

“You know, I don’t know that I’ve had so much fun as when we were chasing each other across those rickety beams,” he told her with a practiced twirl of fondness as they found a suitable place to sit. Eletha chose to lean against a tree and he sat down beside her. “Even the cobwebs in my hair were worth it.”

“Rare to have fun instead of fighting for your life,” she pointed out lazily, soaking in the moon’s light.

“I would have changed my tune about you sooner if I’d known you could be so bloodthirsty,” Astarion purred, trailing a teasing finger along the back of her hand. “You were magnificent back there. Makes me wonder what other talents you’ve been hiding.”

Eletha sat up with a soft grunt. “Alright. You’ve caught me in a rare mood.”

“Oh?” Astarion was surprised for a moment. Last time they were in the woods together, just the taste of his lips made her sick. Well, that’s how he saw it, anyway. “A good fight has that effect on people, I just assumed you were immune.”

Eletha knelt in front of him, one knee on either side of his. She took a drink of his wine and some of it escaped in a little trickle from the corner of her mouth. Astarion reached up to sensually wipe it off and lick it off his fingers, maybe make a comment about her being as messy as him or just a generic postulation about how she tasted. Eletha smacked it away a little forcefully before running her fingers up the underside of his exposed forearm from elbow to wrist. 

Empty wine bottle tossed aside, she leaned forward until their noses were almost touching. Astarion lifted his face to capture her lips in a fervent kiss, but she dodge him. With her hot breath on his ear, she whispered, “When was the last time someone took care of you?”

Astarion had an answer for that: never. At least where vampire Astarion was concerned. Despite the fact that it was completely unsexy, he opened his mouth to answer what was clearly a rhetorical question.

Then her mouth was on his neck and a gasp escaped his lips in a cold puff. Her fingers, rough yet dexterous, teased his own before finding his belt. Astarion moaned as her hot tongue ran along the bottom of his ear. The moan turned into a desperate whine when she retreated.

Sitting back on his thighs, Eletha spared him only a passing glance before focusing on undoing the fastenings on his breeches. When he reached for her, this time aiming to pull up her shirt, she smacked him away once more. He tried again, not easily swayed, and she captured his hand, just to kiss and run her teeth along the inside of his wrist.

Readjusting, Eletha untucked his shirt. Lavishing his stomach with kisses, licks, and gentle scrapes of her teeth, she tugged down the waistband of his breeches. Astarion groaned in the back of his throat as she brushed her lips over his cock through his underwear. She left kisses from tip to base as she painstakingly pulled down the offending garment. He actually quivered as her tongue left a stripe of spit along its length.

Normally, Astarion wouldn’t let himself be so easily pleased. He’d fake this reaction, of course, and pepper in reactions that reflected what his mark desired most in him. Some wanted the commanding, debonair noble while others wanted a mewling plaything. But Eletha wasn’t a mark and she’d proven time and again that his body wasn’t the price for her protection.

It really was shocking to him how good it felt when he could let go of the performance. He had to fight against the innate instruction to turn off, just go through the motions. Astarion even tried to stop her so that it could be her ‘turn’ and he could show her how good he was, but she swatted him away. When he persisted, she laced their fingers together and just… held his hand. It felt almost as good as her lips and hand wrapped around his cock.

There was just a tiny worry in the back of his mind. Was she doing this just to please him? Were these just motions?

Then he noticed that her hand felt hotter. Her strokes became more insistent. He could feel the back of her throat and the filthy groan she made traveled down his cock. Gasping, Astarion bucked his hips just slightly and when she came up, moaning for air, strings of spit connecting them, he whined again. The look in her eyes was hungry and her lips smirked with pride. 

Thus began his undoing. With her left hand in his right, he laid his left hand gently on her head, following her rhythm with small rolls of his hips. Occasionally, unwilling to be done so soon, he would tug her hair just the slightest bit to pull her back and give his nerves a rest. She was relentless, swirling her tongue around him, groaning like a starving man eating at a king’s buffet.

Astarion felt a jolt of pleasure he’d never felt before and threw his head back with an unabashed moan. His hand had to leave her head, lest he push it down further in his blind ecstasy. Squeezing each other’s hand, Eletha took everything he had to give and made sure there would be no mess except for the wrinkles in their clothes and the disarray of their hair.

Boneless, Astarion watched her through hazy eyes as she made him modest and fixed her own clothing. He managed to offer her a husky chuckle and a half-cocky smile. “Are you sure I can’t interest you in some more fun?”

“That was fun enough for me, but thank you,” Eletha said politely, gathering up their discarded things.

“Why?” Astarion asked, maybe a bit too much like a plea. “Why do this for me?”

“Because I’m a little drunk, had some wizard’s weed, and well-”

Now that hollow far-away look came to her eyes. Eletha just… stared straight ahead, as if she could see something happening deep in the earth. 

“Eletha…?” Astarion’s bliss shifted into something akin to fear. He reached out hesitantly, debating the ramifications of touching her while in this state. “Lorelai.”

Eletha’s head snapped around, startling him. For a moment, with her body rigid, she seemed to be seeing someone else in his place. There was terror in her eyes. Then her shoulders relaxed and she was herself again. Smiling as if nothing had just happened, she said, “What’s a party without a little fun?”

“Right…” Astarion agreed, dragging out the syllable.

“I’m gonna try to get some sleep. You should hang out with Gale. He really misses his little tressym friend. Sounds like you would be a good replacement,” she explained cheerily as she got to her feet, dusted herself off, and marched back to camp.

Astarion was magically transported to Gale’s tent. Not really, but he couldn’t quite remember getting from the glade to camp and making the decision to sit down with Gale of all people.

“Are you alright, Astarion?” the man asked him, offering him a glass of wine.

“I’ve had the strangest experience.” Gale gave him a critical look-over. “With Eletha, I mean.”

“I’m not really the kiss-and-tell sort,” he told him only to receive a look that said ‘do you hear yourself?’ Ignoring it, he added, “It can be very easy to fall back into the arms of an old lover. I am sure it is… complicated.”

“Did your dear Mystra ever… tend to your… needs… and refuse reciprocation?” Astarion asked hesitantly, searching for the words that both conveyed his intention and couldn’t be misunderstood by Gale.

“Well, if I set aside the fact that our intimate affairs are not quite analogous to those shared between mortals-” Gale started rather academically and a little smugly. Then he actually thought about it and his face fell back into neutrality. “No. I wouldn’t say that was ever the case.”

“It’s a strange feeling,” Astarion remarked, still trying to untangle his thoughts. “Also. That may have been the best orgasm I’ve ever had, and now I’m disappointed that she went to bed.”

Gale cleared his throat. “I’m sure she has her reasons. As… elusive as they might seem.”

Astarion tilted his head and put on a smirk. “Fancy a go? Someone like you might be able to teach me a thing or two.”

Gale chuckled and raised a warding finger. “I’m afraid you will have no such luck with me, Astarion.”

Astarion pouted. “Come on. You’re not curious? All this time out in the wilderness and you don’t feel the least bit pent-up? I’m not some backwater farm girl looking for a tumble, you know.”

“Whether I have those feelings or not is irrelevant. Who knows what a sudden increase in excitement could do to the orb? A moment of destabilization when I’m unable to control it and we’re all dust.”

“That sounds very exciting, if I may say so,” Astarion purred, a hand finding Gale’s thigh under the table. Gale huffed as he moved it away, making Astarion laugh. “Ticklish, Gale? A mighty wizard defeated by just the brush of a hand?”

“Careful. The tadpole won’t protect you from this wizard’s magicks.” Astarion found Gale’s thigh again and managed to slide up a little before Gale moved away even further. “I know you’re having fun, and I don’t slight you for it, it is a bit amusing, but I am afraid you’ve come to the point where if you persist, I will consider it harassment and be forced to retaliate most fiercely.”

Astarion sat back up, retrieving his hand from beneath the table. “I apologize, Gale. I thought I might convince you to loosen up a little.”

“Your apology is accepted. Perhaps under different circumstances, I would have taken you up on your offer.” Astarion picked up his wine glass and held it towards Gale’s. Curious, Gale held his up as well and Astarion clinked them together.

“Here’s to different circumstances, darling.”

Chapter Text

“I think I found something that might interest you,” Astarion told Eletha as they left the druids’ sanctuary. She’d just finished talking Gale down after Nettie nearly poisoned her. Astarion held out a folded scrap of paper. “While you were busy, I took the opportunity to have a look around. This was hidden away with some of that nasty woman’s things.”

Eletha ignored the praising way Astarion drew out the word ‘nasty’ and snatched the paper from him. After reading the brief missive, she said, “If this is how it sounds, we could leverage it to keep the tieflings in the grove. I guess we’re going to the swamp. Lovely.”

Astarion made a sound of disgust. “ Must we help every weakling on the road?”

“Think of it this way; we keep them off the road, they won’t get in our way. There’s enough going on already,” she explained, but it wasn’t like Astarion’s opinion mattered much. It did matter, yes, but not when he was just being whiny.

“A good observation. Besides, this Halsin might be more inclined to help us if we keep his grove from destabilizing in his absence,” Gale said as they made their way back out of the grove. Behind Eletha’s back, Astarion stuck his tongue out at Gale and mouthed the words ‘kiss arse.’ Gale only spared him a lifted eyebrow.

Eletha tried to stay out of the squabble between the two humans and Ethel, but Wyll insisted on jumping in to diffuse the situation. It came as no surprise to Eletha that Ethel was a hag; she’d come across a few in her time. 

Even after convincing the two young men to not fight, they still ran off in the direction of the hag’s abode. Wyll, of course, tried to stop them. Eletha put a hand on his shoulder.

“Leave them be. We can’t be wasting our energy on idiots,” she said sternly, nonplussed as he shook her off.

“How can you be so cold?” Wyll asked, hurt and angry. “I took you for someone who comes to the aid of others.”

“Young man, I haven’t survived wandering Faerûn for over 200 years by chasing after every lost cause. If you’re going to keep that pretty head of yours, you should learn that.”

“But that hag has their sister,” he insisted, eye bright with heroic fervor. Eletha went from disappointed to harsh.

“People go to hags for a reason. It’s none of our business what their sister wants from her. People make their own decisions,” she explained firmly, a bit of steel in her words. “The more pressing matter is dealing with these druids. If you want to throw your life away for a family that doesn’t have a single lick of sense between them, be my guest.”

The morning after the celebration, the group was going through their things while discussing next steps. Lae’zel wanted to head for the creche, insisting that they’d already wasted enough time. Eletha wanted to go into the Underdark and search for this legendary forge that they’d caught rumors of and the Nightsong that Halsin nearly died searching for.

“I don’t feel good about not dealing with that hag,” Wyll remarked rather seriously, his glance reserved for Eletha. 

“Why are you looking at me? We have a real adult in our presence now,” Eletha argued, indicating Halsin. The druid chuckled. 

“I am not much older than you,” Halsin insisted. “Besides. It seems to me that you have the most experience in this situation. I obviously have some lessons to learn about leadership.”

She took a moment to consider this as she prepared some more arrows.

“Fine. We can split up. Lae’zel, Gale, Astarion, and Halsin can scout ahead into the mountain pass for this creche. The rest of us will track back and see what this hag is about,” Eletha explained with a sigh of resignation. “Any arguments?”

Without a complaint to be heard, they geared up and went on their respective missions.

“Marvelous,” Gale said to no one in particular, soaking in the splendor of the view.

“One of the Oak Father’s many gifts,” Halsin agreed in his own way, also giving their surroundings an appraising look.

“I’m just glad we weren’t roasted back there.” Astarion huffed as he came up to stand beside them on the cliff. 

It was rather breathtaking. There was so much green. Much more green than Astarion would have ever seen in Baldur’s Gate, if he’d been capable of it. And the way the light of the sun seemed to wind through the mountains like a river, drawing the eyes to the ruined monastery? No wonder the Lathander monks picked this spot.

Lae’zel made one of her annoyed sounds at them. “No time for gawking, is’tiks. We have wasted enough time already.”

“She’s quite wilful, isn’t she?” Halsin asked with a little laugh, breaking away to follow her. Astarion broke away next, but when he noticed that Gale wasn’t following, he stopped. 

The wizard was just… staring, oblivious to being left behind. Or perhaps he was enjoying a moment of solitude. But given what things could be lurking out here, Astarion called out his name.

“I apologize,” Gale told him once he’d caught up, using his staff as a walking stick on the treacherous path. “I was just thinking about how little of the world I have seen.”

“If we keep Lae’zel waiting, we both will be seeing a little less.” Gale laughed and Astarion smiled just a little.

“Most of us have lived life close to one locus or another. It makes me wonder, what is it like to be a true adventurer?”

“Judging by how Eletha turned out, it makes you into a bitter shell of a person, if you manage to live long enough,” Astarion remarked rather cheerfully for such an awful thing to say.

“I’m sure she has her reasons,” Gale argued gently.

“Well, of course. She did lose someone as perfect as me.” Astarion postured flamboyantly, managing to trip in the process on some stones in the path. Gale reached out and snatched him by a strap on his armor. Astarion’s eyes were momentarily wide in surprise, but once he was stable, he smirked at Gale. “My hero.”

“Perhaps if you reined in your theatrics, you would not need rescuing.”

“That’s rather rich, coming from you.”

The two started exchanging light insults and witty remarks while trying to trip one another. Eventually, they caught up to the others and quickly separated once they noticed that Halsin was smiling at them in good-natured amusement while Lae’zel was huffing in annoyance once more.

“If you two wish to swordfight, perhaps you should save that energy for the evening,” she told them with narrowed eyes. Gale tilted his head in confusion.

“Swordfight? I have dabbled in the rapier, as any gentleman has, but-”

“She means our cocks, you knob,” Astarion growled, massaging his temple.

“Ah,” Gale said immediately, believing he understood. Then he actually understood. “ Ah. … How does that work, exactly?”

“Oh, Gale, how are you both so innocent and yet know so much?” Astarion emitted a filthy little chuckle and shot Gale a cocky grin, complete with sensually running his tongue over one of his fangs. “Maybe I can fill those gaps in your education sometime.”

“My education is quite thorough, thank you,” Gale ground out.

“Have they always been like this?” Halsin asked Lae’zel, leaning over and lowering his voice a bit. 

“Our leader deems herself unfit to copulate with either of them, or anyone for that matter, despite their obvious prowess and compatibility. Thus, she finds it prudent to push them towards each other, to enrich their bond and tame some of their distractions,” Lae’zel explained rather clinically. Then she added, “ Yes, they have behaved this way since I have known them.”

Astarion and Gale pointedly avoided looking at, walking close to, or talking to each other. Neither of them was going to dispute Lae’zel’s impression that nothing was going on between either of them and Eletha.

“Those poor boys,” Wyll said as their group came across the decomposing bodies of Mayrina’s brothers. They were in a swamp, so the smell wasn’t exactly prominent, but it didn’t help either.

“Boys? They were probably your age,” Eletha retorted with a humorless laugh.

“And yet you call me a boy.”

“Yes, well… You’re all children compared to me.”

After the fact, Eletha couldn’t have told someone what happened that day. One moment, the sun was still rising in the east and they were just outside of Ethel’s teahouse. The next, the sun was falling in the west, turning the sky a beautiful orange color, and she was walking up on a human man, presumably a Gur by the looks of him.

The others present would have described her behavior as ‘strange,’ ‘erratic,’ and ‘harsh.’ It wasn’t the cold Eletha that slaughtered her way through the goblin camp. It wasn’t even the pragmatic Eletha that first told Wyll to harden his heart a little. When Gale would later ask what was wrong with her, Karlach would answer, “Hells if I know. She just got weird.”

Eletha could hear two women arguing before they even opened the door. A chill started to seep into her spine.

“I don’t want a crumb left on that plate, girl,” Ethel said to Mayrina in a cheery voice, like the doting grandmother she painted herself as.

“Auntie Ethel, please. One more bite and this pie is gonna come back up to say hello,” Mayrina argued carefully, holding a hand over her swollen stomach.

“Don’t make me get the wooden spoon,” Ethel warned her, making it clear that she wouldn’t be disobeyed. “You’re eating for two, so get to it!”

It was then that Ethel noticed the four of them standing in the entrance to her home. Ethel’s eyes lit up with delight. “Ah, if it isn’t my heroes! You took ages. Come in - come in!”

Eletha stood stock-still, hollowed out by a gnawing sense of dread. Her eyes, focused and alert, stared unwaveringly at Mayrina struggling to do as Ethel commanded.

Ethel approached Eletha, trying to make eye contact with her. Concerned, she turned to the others, “What appears to be the problem with your friend, dearies?”

“Eletha,” Karlach hissed insistently under her breath. Ethel looked at Eletha again and a knowing smile wrinkled her face for a moment before Wyll addressed her.

“That’s Mayrina, right?” he asked despite knowing the answer. “I have some bad news for her.”

“Keep that hole under your nose shut. Or things will get messy,” Ethel nearly hissed at him, fixing him with a harsh glare.

“You know what that sounds like to me?” Shadowheart asked, smiling smugly. “Leverage.”

“What is it?” Mayrina asked, getting out of her seat and trying to get closer. Her voice wavered with fear. “What’s going on?”

“Auntie Ethel killed your brothers,” Wyll told the poor girl, glaring at the hag.

Then the girl was gone and so too was Ethel’s human disguise. With precision and unbridled ferocity, Eletha went at the hag with her longsword.

“Eladrin bitch!” Ethel sneered after a few strikes. Then she disappeared, but her voice, filled with amusement, could still be heard. “Jealousy becomes you, petal! You wear it so well!”

Karlach came up behind her as Eletha wiped the redcap blood off her blade. “Hey, soldier. You okay? You seem kinda…”

“You heard the girl,” Eletha said in a clipped, harsh voice. Her eyes were hard like stones. “Now we have a hag to kill.”

Navigating the hag’s lair was… hard. A gallery of desperate people, making deals meant to fix their lives, only to be driven to death and ruin. Eletha never dealt with hags, really. Out in the sticks, people tolerated them, for some odd amount of reassurance in dire times.

Dancing on the edge of a black pit, its deafening screams in her ears, Eletha was just as relentless as Lae’zel.

Then Ethel’s voice cut through the noise. Mocking her. Finding just the right place to prod, as if Eletha’s thoughts were an open book.

The edge of the black pit crumbled away. 

Eletha fell.

“Wait!” Ethel cried out, hand outstretched towards Eletha. The hand flew off, trailing an arc of blood.

“Eletha!” Wyll yelled at her, running to catch up.

Then the hag’s head came off.

“You could have shown her mercy,” Wyll told Eletha angrily.

“You wanted this,” Eletha said, staring him down with those stoney eyes. “There is no mercy in this wretched place.”

“I’m so stupid. How could I ‘ave trusted her?” Mayrina asked herself aloud, shaking and terrified. Shadowheart was at her side, making sure she was steady on her feet. “I almost gave that monster my child.”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Karlach cooed, giving the girl her biggest smile.

“Muh-muh husband. She was going to bring him back. Bring Connor back to life. All I had to do was give her my child,” Mayrina explained without being asked, sobbing through her words. “I just wanted everything back- back the way it was. She was gonna teach them magic, give them a good life.”

“Hags eat children and turn them into more hags,” Eletha remarked dispassionately, going through Ethel’s things. Mayrina burst into big wailing sobs. They all shot Eletha a dirty look that she didn’t notice.

The group accompanied Mayrina to Connor’s body, to make sure she was safe.

“The thought of putting him in a wheelbarrow and making the journey all over again…” she said sadly, looking at her husband’s decaying corpse.

“We could bury him nearby, somewhere nice,” Karlach offered gently.

“No! Don’t put him in the ground!” the girl cried. Softly she explained, “Connor was afraid of the dark…”

“Do you really want your child?” Eletha asked, the first time she’d spoken in perhaps ten minutes of them fussing over Mayrina. They all turned to look at her.

“W-what?” Mayrina asked, confused, touching her belly. “I…”

“When you think of having to live your life raising it, can you imagine joy? Does the thought of teaching it about Connor, teaching it to love and fear the world, feel like something that will make you happy? To cherish this thing forever, to live your life in duty to it, because that’s what it means to be a mother?”

“That’s… I never thought of it that way…” Mayrina said to herself hesitantly, sniffling back tears.

“Eletha, what-” Wyll started, but was commanded to be silent with a simple gesture of Eletha’s hand. Eletha approached Mayrina and looked her in the eye, not with her stoney gaze, but with sharp wisdom.

“I… I can. Imagine joy, that is. In them taking their first steps… their first word…” Mayrina said fondly through her tears.

“Then you need to let Connor go,” Eletha told her firmly. Mayrina started to weep again.

“No! There has to be some way- I can’t do this without him!” Eletha placed a hand on Mayrina’s shoulder.

“I’ve lost many people. I carry them as a reminder,” Eletha said calmly, indicating the rings on her ears with her free hand. “I carry their stories with me. They have taught me things that have saved my life, changed the way I see the world. It’s the way of things, for humans just as much as elves. A piece of Connor will always live on with you and you will always carry on that love. You can’t teach your child to find joy in life if you can’t move on.”

Mayrina thought about this for a moment. Then she sniffled one last time, wiping her tears off on her sleeve, and puffed up her chest in new-found bravery. “I… I’ll try. But… what do I do about Connor now?”

“His body will return to the earth and feed new life. Who knows? Maybe one day you will pick a flower borne from a seed that his body nourished, and you will think of him.”

“That’s… beautiful… A little morbid… but beautiful.”

“Wow, Eletha, that was…” Shadowheart started to say uncertainly, almost impressed. Then Eletha’s eyes turned back to stone.

“We should search through her things and then head back,” she told them strictly. They all nodded in agreement, seeing no use in arguing with her.

Thus she found herself in front of the Gur loitering about.

“Ah, a fellow wanderer. Forgive the aroma,” he said in a friendly manner.

“I’ve used the same trick before. Hunting werebeasts,” Eletha told him after picking up on the scent.

“Ah, a fellow hunter, then.” As polite as one could, he sniffed her. “Ah, fey blood. I take it the lady of the house is no more.”

“My friend felt it necessary to investigate some business she had with a young girl,” Eletha explained in a calm manner with just a touch of irritation. “I apologize if you wanted to trade tragedies with the hag.”

“I won’t miss her, but I was hoping she could aid me in my hunt… No matter.”

“What do you hunt? We’ve been through this land quite thoroughly the past few days.” After some back and forth, he revealed his quarry. Eletha didn’t react. “What would you want with a creature like that?”

“A band of vampire spawn attacked our camp and stole away our children. We believe this Astarion knows where they’re keeping our little ones. If he’s captured alive, my people will make him talk.”

“I’m sorry to hear such a tale. If I come across any vampires, I’ll aim to capture rather than eradicate. I am headed to Baldur’s Gate myself, though I have some things to see to first,” Eletha responded calmly, only a little bothered.

“Thank you, stranger. Good hunting,” Gandrel told her. After bowing their heads to one another, Eletha rejoined her companions.

“I can’t believe we left that poor girl with a hag for all this time,” Wyll remarked with an equal mix of disbelief and venom. “To be tricked into giving up your child to bring back the one you love-”

Wyll found himself on his ass, Eletha glaring down at him.

“People make choices, Wyll, whether they’re good or not.”

“But she was desperate and Ethel took advantage of her!” he argued, getting to his feet.

“You must have been desperate, to make a deal with a devil, and now look at you,” Eletha said with a snarl. “Should someone have come to your aid? Would you have accepted someone making that choice for you?”

“That’s different. I help people.”

“Heyheyhey, let’s all calm down,” Karlach said nervously, bodily separating the two.

Eletha turned on her heel without another word.

“What in the Hells was that about?” Wyll asked, rubbing his backside.

“I don’t know. Ethel said something to her, but I didn’t hear what it was…” Shadowheart said as she kept stride with the three. They remained within sight of Eletha, but hopefully even her hearing couldn’t pick up their words. “And she was acting strange before that.”

“Maybe she was right. Maybe someone else should be making the decisions,” Wyll muttered angrily.

“She’s been all over Faerûn. She’s worn out more boots than all of us combined,” Karlach argued. “She’s just been rattled. Give her some time.”

When the creche group got back, the moon was already in the sky. 

“So, how was hag-hunting?” Astarion playfully asked the three gathered around the campfire.

“Weird,” Karlach answered, moving food around in her bowl with a spoon. The other two didn’t have much input. Astarion huffed.

“Well, we had a lovely time, thank you for asking.”

Astarion joined them as they all ate, not really listening as Gale filled them in on their trip through the mountain pass. Then Eletha stalked past, bow slung over one shoulder, a few waterskins over the other. She didn’t spare them even a fleeting glance. Astarion practically jumped to his feet to follow.

“Fancy some company?” he asked rather cheerily.

“No.” It wasn’t the first time Astarion ignored such an answer.

“Come now, you shouldn’t be going out there all alone.”

“You should stay in camp, someone’s looking for you,” Eletha told him dispassionately as they approached the edge of camp. “Something about stealing children.”

“Ah. Is that why you’re angry with me? Cazador made us do it. Honestly, I forgot about it until you mentioned it.” He hesitated. “That doesn’t make it sound better, does it?”

“I don’t really care. Just don’t get caught.” The impersonal chill in her voice was both worrying and a bit tantalizing to Astarion. It was starting to feel like another one of their games.

“I know you’d never let anything bad happen to me, darling,” he purred, reaching out to grab one of her ears. Then he was holding a hand to his nose. “ Gods, what was that for? Are you insane?!”

Astarion looked up at Eletha and didn’t recognize her, as if something else was looking out from behind her eyes. Her entire body was ready for this argument to turn deadly.

“Stay,” Eletha commanded coldly in Elvish.

“And go with you while you’re like this?” Astarion rebutted in disbelief and pain, his nose throbbing from her punch. “Go on then, be miserable. See if I care.”

“What happened to you?” Shadowheart asked upon his return. Halsin reached out and with some words, the pain in Astarion’s face dissipated.

“It’s not the first time a drunk has tried to ruin my pretty face,” he murmured, experimentally touching his nose. Then he fixed Wyll with a glare, although it wasn’t truly mean-spirited. “Thanks a lot, Wyll, you’ve ruined all my good work.”

“Don’t blame him, Astarion,” Gale told him with a chastising wag of his spoon. “It is reasonable to conclude that Eletha has been through something deeply traumatic. This situation with the hag and Mayrina likely reminded her of that trauma.”

“Mm, yes, Gale speaks wisely. I have seen it myself,” Halsin said as Gale took a bite of food. His agreement excited Gale.

“I have read some observations on the subject. It is theorized to be a response meant to protect the individual. Thus they become avoidant, harsh, and sometimes violent. They can’t be hurt if there is no one around to hurt them. Unfortunately, they also appear to be prone to destructive behaviors. I postulate that Eletha has traveled alone as a more reserved response. Then Astarion came along, the first shockwave of mental destabilization. Now this hag has destabilized her further, leading, to, well-”

“Breaking my nose,” Astarion interrupted at the same time as Wyll said, “Biting my head off.”

“At least she kept her cool during all that fighting,” Karlach pointed out, clearly a little upset by all of Gale’s theories. “She could’ve given Lae’zel a run for her coin with how she swung that blade.”

“I regret not being there to see it. Perhaps we will face more foes worthy of such ferocity and skill,” Lae’zel said with a fire in her eyes.

“If it becomes a problem, we’ll deal with it,” Gale said finally after considering Karlach’s words.

“She broke my nose!” Astarion hissed.

“You probably deserve a lot more than a broken nose,” Wyll remarked dryly, clearly annoyed with Gale’s final stance on the problem. Astarion glared at him.

“Maybe she should have actually bit your head off, you little brat,” Astarion spat at him. Before their fight could turn physical, Halsin scooped Astarion up like an angry cat while Karlach blocked Wyll with her body from going after him.

“Conflict was bound to happen,” Gale said to himself before sighing and getting to his feet with a groan.

As acerbic as it was, Astarion took Eletha’s advice to heart and kept to his tent all night. He spent a lot of the night wondering what she was doing out in the woods alone. Watching for intruders? Getting blackout drunk and crying herself to sleep?

An indistinct commotion in the camp encouraged him to finally get up.

“Did you hear anything?” Karlach asked him desperately upon seeing him coming out of his tent.

“Darling, I hear plenty of things. You’re going to need to be more specific.”

“Lethi’s gone. All her stuff. Bonnet too.” Karlach’s practically vibrated with distress.

“I guess she finally got sick of us,” Astarion told her with a flippant little laugh. Then tears threatened her eyes and he backpedaled. “I’m sure that’s not true, Karlach, I just meant…”

It was just about then that Halsin, in bear form, came into camp. After transforming back, rolling his shoulders to work out some minor stiffness, he didn’t seem that concerned.

“I picked up Bonnet’s trail, it heads into the mountains,” he explained to them all. “I also found a marker similar to the ones the Harpers use to indicate their movements. It was disturbed by animals; most likely, she left in the middle of the night.”

“Let’s go!” Karlach said ecstatically, flames leaping just a bit. Gale held up a warding hand.

“While we shouldn’t dawdle, there is not much reason for haste,” he said calmly, sounding much like he was already taking over leaderly duties in Eletha’s absence. “Leaving markers would imply that she has no intention of leaving us behind. She is well-seasoned. So long as she doesn’t confront the githyanki alone, I am not too worried.”

The group spent the morning packing their things and moving on into the mountains. After some time, Halsin was able to pick up on Bonnet’s scent and eventually spotted another one of the subtle markers. Following the trail, they found a nice area that overlooked the valley and was large enough to accommodate them all. There they also found Bonnet lying in front of Eletha’s tent, already set up. With the bear was a curious ball of brown feathers.

“Aww, it’s the little owlbear from the goblin camp,” Shadowheart cooed, trying to approach. The owlbear shot up, big round eyes alert. It chittered and hopped around before fleeing into the woods.

“Bonnet tells me that Eletha found the cub in the woods last night,” Halsin told them after conversing with the bear. “She’s also concerned about Eletha.”

“Not a surprise,” Wyll said under his breath, a little more concerned than insulting. “She did pick a good spot to camp, though.”

“‘Eletha has been here before, with the dark one,’” Halsin translated for Bonnet. “‘The dark one always knows when Eletha needs help.’”

“‘Dark one?’ Sounds ominous,” Shadowheart remarked with a little bit of amusement.

“‘I have never met her, but those who came before me said that she existed in only darkness and always smelt of blood.’”

“Ah, her vampire friend,” Gale said, a small smile of understanding on his lips. “A bit poetic, hm? Befriending a vampire, then discovering her long lost love has been turned?”

“Going to write a sonnet about it?” Astarion asked with obvious distaste.

“Perhaps.”

Having already navigated the pass, Lae’zel, Gale, and Astarion headed towards the monastery in search of Eletha and, ultimately, the entrance to the creche. The others stayed behind to set up camp and to rest after their confrontation with the hag.

When they approached, they found the front door open. Hands on weapons, they crept inside, wary that githyanki lookouts could spring on them without questions.

Instead, a certain elf dropped down from above, landing in front of them in a crouch.

“I was starting to debate going back,” Eletha said calmly, unapologetic.

“What have you been up to this whole time?” Gale asked, lowering his guard. Lae’zel gave the area one last glance before sheathing her sword.

“Cleaning up.” Eletha flicked something towards the wizard and gestured behind her. “Entrance is this way. Gith ladies first.”

“A wise decision,” Lae’zel told her dryly as she passed. Eletha turned to follow while Astarion joined Gale in inspecting what Eletha had given him.

“How annoying. I would have loved poking around in an old monastery,” Astarion said, taking the medallion from Gale and trying to catch the light on the gem. “What do you think it is?”

“Something important to the Lathander monks. Perhaps only ceremonial.”

Eletha continued to let Lae’zel do the talking. When he managed to get close enough, Astarion stealthily took a sniff of her. 

Just general sweat and mustiness from crawling through the crumbling monastery. He was half-expecting her to reek of the dead monks’ distillery. She was clear-eyed and sure-footed, but just as cold and stoney as the other three had described her last night.

Lae’zel sneered at her kin’s lack of discipline while Gale was enamored with what he saw. 

It was cute how Gale could get so excited about things. It was even charming, the way he vibrated with excitement to meet this ghustil Lae’zel was so adamant to find. Astarion would have liked to watch the two talk, because the gith seemed to be of the opinion that she was by far Gale’s superior and Gale would fail to notice for a while before catching on, thus becoming quite rude.

They watched as Lae’zel climbed into the zaith’isk. Astarion and Gale shifted their weight nervously while Eletha stood unmoving. 

As the strange machine began its mysterious work, they could all feel Lae’zel’s pain. She ground out a gith prayer between her teeth, bracing against that pain. 

It became quite clear that Lae’zel was not walking out of the zaith’isk.

“We’re just going to stand here and let it kill her?” Astarion asked Eletha, distressed and confused. “Is that the plan?”

“That thing looks set to kill her!” Gale agreed, raising his voice to be heard over the zaith’isk.

“Let her go,” Eletha told the ghustil, her voice hard and demanding.

“No!” Lae’zel cried out. “I will be cured! It is my right! Lash’a’kla! Lash’a’kla!”

Eletha’s longsword sang through the air and stopped a millimeter into the Stornugoss’s throat. “Release her.”

“Is’tik, this is purification! This is Vlaakith’s will!” the woman argued, unafraid of the blade.

“It’s going to kill you, Lae’zel!” Astarion yelled, trying to push through the psionic field to somehow free her.

“Release her!” Eletha commanded with a promise of bloodshed. 

When Stornugoss refused once more, it was the last thing she did. 

With all her strength, Eletha whirled on the zaith’isk and brought down her blade, wet with githyanki blood.

Lae’zel stared at the destroyed machine and roared. “No. It cannot be. Cannot! Purification is my right. I am githyanki! I will not be ghaik!”

“Quiet, you stupid girl,” Eletha spat remorselessly, already finding some place to hide the ghustil’s body. It would buy them some time to be in at least a better position to deal with an entire creche’s worth of gith. “Purification was death. You’ve been sold a lie.”

“No! You do not understand because you are is’tik! You do not know Vlaakith’s will!”

“Gods, even Vlaakith, owe you no truths. It’s easier to manipulate you if they make you believe that they want the best for you if you only follow their rules.”

“Please listen to her, Lae’zel. That thing was meant to remove your memories and destroy you, so that your experience might be an example for future gith,” Gale explained insistently, but kindly. It had rattled him, watching his companion come so close to death and be unflinching in her belief to the contrary.

Lae’zel continued to argue, spouting her usual gith rhetoric with renewed zeal.

Eletha smacked her, hard, across the face. Both Gale and Astarion gaped in shock, then tensed in panic. Lae’zel glared up at their leader, one hand to her swiftly-reddening cheek, her yellow eyes watering from the sting.

“I’m not your commander. I’m not your mother,” Eletha told her, struggling a bit with the word. “If you want to fall in line, fine, but I have one last thing to say about the matter: you are much too intelligent to let someone step over your corpse like a pile of horseshit in the street.”

“T’Chk!” Lae’zel sounded angrily, getting to her feet. Her hand wavered near her sword before wiping dirt off on her trousers. She appeared properly chagrined, if such an emotion was available to gith. “Let us meet with this inquisitor.”

Pilfering a priceless holy relic made up for having to fight their way out of a whole family of gith, Astarion thought to himself as they made their way back to camp. 

Eletha led them in silence, everyone too tired to speak. Lae’zel had to spend some time coming to terms with being labeled a heretic by her people. Gale and Astarion had no energy to spare for bickering or flirting disguised as bickering.

When they got back, Eletha immediately went into her tent to find a change of clothes and some towels. After picking up a bottle of monk liquor, she headed for the woods.

“Where are you going?” Karlach asked her, clearly worried. “You should eat something.”

“Bathing,” Eletha said, not offering any further explanation. After about ten minutes, Astarion stood and followed her trail. 

He found her lounging in a river, sipping liquor and staring off into the scenery. Coming off the mountain, the water was only a little warmer than his skin.

“May I join you?” he asked when she only barely acknowledged his presence. Eletha merely grunted and shifted slightly in her little watery alcove to make space for him. Astarion discarded his clothes and slipped in beside her. “You’ve been here before?”

Eletha hummed before taking a sip of liquor.

“I don’t understand what your problem is,” he muttered a little angrily. “Gale says you’re running away from something.”

Eletha didn’t answer.

“Are you taking back your promise? To help me with Cazador?”

“No. Say the word and he’ll be field-dressed in five minutes flat,” she told him dispassionately. Then she stood, the cold mountain water streaming off her body.

“What do you do, when you leave?” Astarion asked, looking up at her, feeling like an idiot for caring about someone who broke his nose and didn’t have the decency to buy him a drink after.

“Forget. Stop being me.”

How incredibly depressing.

So began the cycle. They would have some lead to investigate, driven by a clear-headed, steel-hearted Eletha. While on the surface, she would spend the night alone in the woods. In the Underdark, she holed herself up in her tent, taking a few bottles of something or other with her. In the morning she would be ‘fine.’ They stopped asking if she was fine, what they could do, what was wrong.

Astarion was, in a strange way, hoping that Gale’s impending self-detonation would have some positive effect on Eletha. She seemed to only regard them when they did something stupid. 

Reducing yourself and everything within a sizable radius to dust for your goddess sounded pretty ‘stupid,’ where Astarion was concerned. 

First off, he could be in that radius. Second, gods were worthless self-important arseholes, so trying to please them was just idiotic from the get-go.

Third? It was a waste of a perfectly good Gale. Without Eletha to have fun with, Astarion became very drawn to the wizard’s side. Sometimes they commiserated about their leader’s state of mind, but it was nice just trading witty banter or discussing their latest literary find.

“Tell Gale he can’t blow himself up!” he demanded of her once this Elminster character wandered off from their camp. 

“It’s Gale’s choice to blow himself up. We shouldn’t interfere with that,” Wyll told him sarcastically. More seriously he said, “There must be other options, Gale.”

“Of course, I will consider all parts of the matter, but the fact remains that Mystra has asked this of me.”

“I’ve never heard something so- Where are you going?” Astarion hissed at Eletha, who was walking away from the group.

“My tent. We have a lot of shit to do tomorrow,” she told him tonelessly, even more lifeless than the automatons in that wizard’s tower.

“Oh, go ahead, drown your sorrows while the rest of us try to convince our friend to not kill himself!”

“You think I don’t care?!” Eletha yelled at him, wheeling around so suddenly that he ran into her. Astarion stumbled back, surprised by both losing his footing and her flare of emotions. “You think it doesn’t hurt me? To have everything I love and care about go away?!”

“Well-” Astarion tumbled over the starts of several sentences. Eventually, he gave up finding the perfect one. “People fight for what they care about.”

Eletha was taken aback. The air got a little thinner as everyone present sucked in a breath. Astarion started to panic as tears welled up in her eyes. Bonnet nuzzled her leg insistently. Scratch whined while the owlbear cub trilled nervously.

“You did this to me!” she cried in Elvish, straining through her tears. It made her sound girlish and shrill. “ You did this to me! You broke me! You killed who I was supposed to be!”

Eletha tried to go to her tent, only to trip over the animals freaking out around her. She fell with a pathetic cry, the rough ground scraping her hands and tearing holes into her trousers at the knees. Sniffling, she let herself fall the rest of the way to the ground.

Astarion tried to approach, but Bonnet got between them, stood on her hind legs, and roared at him. The bear refused to let any of them near her, even going so far as to swipe at Halsin. 

Eventually, Eletha stopped sobbing into the dirt, actually trying to bury herself at some point by grabbing handfuls of dirt and dropping them on her head. Instead, she chose to limp into her tent, where she sobbed some more until all was quiet.

“Yes, perhaps it is prudent that one of us take the lead from now on,” Gale said when the spectacle was over. He took a healthy swallow of wine straight from the bottle before handing it to a rattled Astarion. “We shall scout out the environs in teams, gather information. No… big decisions until Eletha is… better.”

“What if she never gets better?” Karlach asked, feeding their fire. This place, always in shadow, was cold. It was so cold that even Astarion had trouble with it, so Karlach had to be freezing.

“Well… I don’t know,” Gale answered rather honestly, well aware that there was no real answer. “She’ll turn into a mindflayer without the protection of the prism. We could take her with us… But she might become a hindrance. The prism has a fair amount of distance, perhaps if we can get to Baldur’s Gate, she will be safe from the parasite in… whatever place we can find to take care of her.”

“Ah, yes, let’s abandon the person freaking out about being abandoned,” Astarion said scathingly. With a false epiphany, he went on, drawing erratic lines through the air with a cunty finger, “But, oh wait, will you even be around to care by the time we get to Baldur’s Gate?”

“Maybe we should all get some rest,” Halsin interjected nervously.

“Yes, I think that would be best,” Gale agreed, trying to hide the hurt on his face as he got up and went to his tent.

After some time, Astarion invaded the privacy of the wizard’s tent. Obviously, a tent wasn’t a tower, and thus he could invade it whenever he wanted.

Gale chucked a pillow at him, which hit him in the face.

“I suppose I deserved that…” Astarion whispered, picking the pillow up to lazily toss back before entering the rest of the way.

“I may not have as many harsh words as Eletha to hurl at you, but I am not exactly pleasedto see you,” Gale warned him, barely able to keep his eyes open.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. For what I said.”

“This could have waited.”

“I don’t know how much longer we have together.” Gale laid his head back down and let out a sigh. “How do you apologize to someone, when you have no idea what you’ve done?”

“I imagine that you can’t,” Gale said after a moment of sleepy contemplation.

“I don’t want to leave her in some… Ilmater temple, with all the idiots and cripples that the other gods abandoned.” To this, Gale lifted an arm, inviting Astarion to lay beside him. He did so, curling into Gale’s side and lying his head on his chest. It occurred to him that, below his ear, there was a source of immense destructive magic, now quelled by the grace of Mystra. “She’s never even been to the Gate.”

“None of us want that either. We will cross that bridge when we get there.”

“But you heard her. I did this to her.”

“She may feel that way, yes. It remains to be seen what part you played aside from leaving.” Gale took a deep breath and Astarion could hear the air filling and leaving his lungs. “ Please, Astarion, I need at least six hours.”

Astarion scoffed. “Humans.”

He tried to leave, but Gale pulled him in harder instead. It didn’t take long for the wizard to start snoring softly.

Chapter Text

No one saw Eletha leave her tent for two days while they braved the shadow curse and all its challenges. Astarion would’ve stayed upset about this if he wasn’t excited about Raphael’s offer of help. Gale told him that they should wait and see before making any deals with devils and now Astarion was giving him the cold shoulder.

Worried and sick of the mood in camp, Gale convinced Bonnet to let him into her mistress’s tent. 

There he found her in a curious state: not quite elven trance, but not quite conscious either. Tentatively, he shook her shoulder, but she didn’t rouse. Clenched in her hand was a tattered scrap of cloth, perhaps a remnant of some once-fine robe or doublet.

“Pardon me,” he whispered as he decided his next course of action. Reaching out with both magic and tadpole, he murmured softly, “Do let me know if I’m intruding.”

Something connected and his mind was transported to someplace else. The ground was just a shade different from the sky, creating a sense of boundless emptiness. 

Here he found Eletha sitting on the edge of- Well, it was a rather large hole with no discernible sides or bottom, just complete darkness.

“I’m sorry. I don’t have any tea or cake,” she told him listlessly, eyes not leaving the hole. Her skin was covered in scratches and her clothes were torn. “Poor reception for a friend. Wizard friend.”

“May I… sit?” Gale asked hesitantly, peering into the hole only to be met with nothing. Eletha nodded and he sat down beside her. “Is this what troubles you?”

“Mm. I’m losing it, aren’t I? Out there.” 

She didn’t wait for his answer. It was rather obvious that if he was here, he felt that she was in danger. 

In a haunting sing-song voice she went on, “Down, down, down. Spiraling down. Cracked like an egg, to hatch or to eat? The dry leaves sound lovely, under our feet.”

Well that’s concerning, Gale thought to himself. “What is in the hole?”

“Something old. Something bad. Lorelai.”

“Ah, your childhood name, yes?”

“Bad, evil, mean old Lorelai,” she said by way of answer, using the tone of a child talking about a monster in a book or a hated schoolmarm. Then darkly, like that hated schoolmarm, she added, “Little Lorelai doesn’t know any better.”

“You know, I was quite the scamp back in my day too. That’s how I met Tara. My parents denied me a kitten, so I summoned a tressym instead,” he explained with a fond smile and a twinkle in his eyes. 

He went on about other ‘naughty’ things he did as a child, such as summoning mephits or destroying things with errant magic. He felt that if he could get her to accept that making trouble as a child was a normal part of growing up, then she might begin to forgive herself for whatever she’d done.

Gale’s happy memories only served to weaken the edge of the hole further, bits breaking off every now and then. While speaking about his mother, how much he loved her, the hole suddenly emitted a disturbing sound. A wail mixed with crying, piercing and discordant. 

Gale stopped his story, training his senses to make heads or tails of what was happening. The wail faded as voices rose in its stead. Elven voices, melodic and refined, called out-

Lorelai.

“Lorelai, you are too young to make such decisions,” Eletha said in Elvish in a man’s voice. It sounded stern and agitated, almost hostile. “Non Moverē.”

She recited the incantation for a Hold Person spell with perfect precision, but it was only an echo of a memory. Whoever had cast it was highly skilled.

“You must set aside your feelings for the good of us all. I did not raise you to be a brat, A’Sum. This is a blessing,” she said in a woman’s voice. It was sharp and disappointed. This voice called upon the Weave to calm her daughter’s emotions.

“If you cannot behave, then we will make you behave, my blood or not,” a second man’s voice said through Eletha’s lips. It snarled, full of revulsion. “Impero tibi.”

I command you, from the tongue of an expert spellcaster. Young and inexperienced, Eletha would have been unable to resist.

“I… I think I understand,” Gale said after waiting a moment for her to continue. “It will be okay. You have us now. We won’t let that happen.”

“It doesn’t make a difference,” she said in her own voice, streaked with pain. “It’s always been here. It’s not going away this time.”

“What-”

A monstrous black claw shot out of the black hole. Gale threw himself back, only to fall out of Eletha’s tent.

“What in the hells was that about?” Karlach asked, looking down at him with confusion.

“I was trying to help,” he answered, trying to rub the befuddlement out of his head.

“MmMmh, breakfast?” Eletha asked blearily, poking her head out of the tent flap. “Can I have eggs?”

“No, Lethi, go back to sleep,” Karlach told her, pushing her friend back into the tent when she appeared to be asleep sitting up.

“So. What hot gossip did you two discuss?” Astarion purred as he approached Gale’s tent, where the wizard was currently writing in his journal. Despite his attempts to seem otherwise, it was clear that the question came from a place of concern.

“Do you remember anything of your families?” Astarion glared at him.

“No. All I know is what little Eletha has told me. They were semi-important.” Gale hummed in response, distracted. “Why?”

“Nothing. Only something to consider.” Astarion huffed with false humor. Scratching his beard, talking more to himself than Astarion, Gale said, “It’s a shame Cazador made you forget your old life. Of us all, you can relate to her the most…”

“I’m not sure I understand the similarities.”

“Held against your will by someone who claims to love you, to be your family. Made to behave. Bodies not yours to command,” Gale explained rather compassionately. Then he grew pensive again. “What did she do, that necessitated such methods of containment? Is it the action, or the reaction, that is affecting her?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. It’s always ‘I did a bad horrible thing, I’m evil, I can never be forgiven.’ Things like that.” Astarion laughed then sighed a little sadly. “Oh Gale. First a goddess. Now an insane elf. How does it feel to fall so far?”

“Does driving your first lover into the arms of pain and madness hurt worse or less than all the blood on your hands?” Gale sniped. Astarion startled, then bristled.

“That’s not fair,” he warned.

“Any more fair than what you just said?” Gale asked, getting to his feet. Standing tall, he had to look down at Astarion a little bit. 

“Keep your meddling paws out of other people’s business,” Astarion growled.

“Why must you treat me like an enemy? We want the same thing: for her to get better. To do that, I’m afraid we must meddle in her business.”

“It’s not just her business, is it? It’s mine as well.”

“The business of a man buried over two centuries ago.” Gale tilted his head and the harshness left his eyes and voice. “You’re worried that she can’t forgive you.”

“Of course I am!” Stupid wizards. Why did they have to be so smart and also so slow at the same time?

“Mm, I find it unlikely. You hold a special place in her heart, broken or not,” Gale told him rather academically, picking something up from his desk. In his outstretched palm he held the scrap of cloth from Eletha’s tent. With a pair of tweezers, he carefully dissected it, revealing a lock of curly white hair. When his tweezers tried to brush the hairs, they were rebuffed. “A preservation charm. I can only assume that this hair once belonged to you, perhaps the garment this cloth came from as well. With a few tools and a wizard’s expertise, she could have easily found you in Baldur’s Gate.”

“But she didn’t. The one civilized place on the Sword Coast she’s never visited,” Astarion said harshly, hovering between shock and anger.

“There are many possible explanations. Eletha is a proponent of choices. You chose to leave, so she respected your choice. Perhaps she was afraid that you never loved her, or that you hated her for waiting so long to follow.” Gale carefully resealed the token so that it could be replaced in Eletha’s tent. “Perhaps she had no choice but to let you go. There’s no telling until she feels ready to explain.”

“I’ll put it back,” Astarion said after a moment, holding out his hand. Gale placed the token in his palm, only to gently take hold of his hand.

“It is a shame. I was hoping to encourage a relationship between us. Eletha was always interesting, a mix of mysterious and open, having lived a rich life of adventure. I had an impression that she found me interesting as well, but she is so clearly afraid of being hurt again.” Gale looked at their interlocked hands fondly. “I suppose I could say the same for you.”

Astarion clicked his tongue and emitted a soft sound of sweetness before threading his fingers through the loose waves of hair at the back of Gale’s neck. Pulling him down slightly while raising himself up on his toes, Astarion pressed their lips together in a needy kiss.Gale’s mouth opened slightly in a surprised gasp and Astarion found his tongue with his own.

Neither kissed like a novice, but it felt different. Electric. With the orb stabilized by Mystra, Gale didn’t fear the sudden excitement of flesh touching flesh or the sound of someone’s moans in his ears. Even Eletha’s light touches and chaste kisses on his head had threatened to explode his heart after so long without a person’s touch.

He was suddenly aware of how clammy his hands had become. His body was shaking and his head felt like it might float away without him. A pit of sickness sat in his stomach and Gale pushed Astarion away just a little bit. 

Before Astarion could misunderstand, he said shakily, “I think it has been too long for me. I am a starving man eating more than his stomach can handle.”

Astarion’s face went through a range of emotions, from hurt to annoyance and finally thoughtfulness. “Eletha had that reaction too. I just assumed she was drunk, but the only thing you seem drunk on is the taste of my lips.”

“There is some truth to that,” Gale agreed with a light laugh. Holding a hand to his heart, he said, “I assure you, I enjoyed that very much.”

“I should… put this back,” Astarion said hesitantly with a small smile, indicating Eletha’s token. “Maybe I’ll come around later. Discuss… what was it we were reading now?”

“I have no clue.”

“Mm… I have done a number on you,” Astarion purred in self-satisfaction before leaving Gale’s tent.

Thankfully, Bonnet wasn’t sitting in front of Eletha’s tent when Astarion attempted to sneak in. The bear would’ve probably mauled him on sight otherwise.

He sat for a moment, just watching her breathe, fighting some internal demon. Very carefully, he placed the token in her open hand, which closed and retreated to her chest.

It was late and everyone was seeing to their evening routines when indecipherable Elvish yelling grew louder in Eletha’s tent.

She emerged, a leather wallet in one hand, her face red with anger. Everyone was gathering, but she only had eyes for Astarion. Pointing an accusing finger at him, she yelled, “How dare you go through my things!”

Astarion chuckled nervously, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, like anyone else has an interest in my journals? The place where I keep all my intimate thoughts and memories?” Eletha sneered, narrowing her eyes. Astarion went from nervous to confused.

“I didn’t take your journals,” he insisted, biting off the urge to call her ‘darling’ or ‘my dear’. He knew by now that it could upset her more just as much as it could make her melt. “And even if I did, it would only be to figure out what’s wrong with you so we can move on.”

“What’s wrong with me?!” Those closest to her tensed, preparing to stop her if she decided to settle this with a fight. Those closer to Astarion gravitated towards him, to get between them if anything went wrong.

Instead, Eletha undid the complicated tie of her wallet and dumped the contents out onto the ground. A seemingly endless flood of books, papers, and scrolls fell out. Giving it one last shake to make sure it was empty, Eletha dropped the wallet on the pile.

“They’re yours now. Have fun,” she growled at him before returning to her tent. 

Those nearby rushed forward as a slight breeze caught the papers, threatening to blow them into the campfire. Everyone gathered to deal with the mess.

“Interesting. A bag of holding, but just for paper?” Gale pondered aloud as he inspected the leather wallet before setting it aside. Astarion snatched it up with a little glare. He was pretty sure he just got blamed for Gale’s sticky fingers and he wasn’t about to let the wizard take something Eletha just entrusted to him.

“She certainly needs it,” Shadowheart remarked, gathering some journals into a stack and setting them next to Gale, who immediately started organizing them.

“Wow, so many for this Lorelai person,” Karlach said after a while of picking up letters and putting them into a semi-neat pile.

“That’s her childhood name,” Gale explained, becoming excited by something he’d noticed. “Elves pick their own name when they reach one hundred years of age.”

“Oh.” Karlach went from confused, to understanding, to confused again. “Why are they all still sealed? Seems weird, keeping letters you didn’t even bother readin’.”

Gale was deaf to the question, reading the oldest of the journals. In a stilting manner, as he not only had to translate Elvish, but a child’s Elvish, he read aloud to himself loud enough for them to hear. 

“Father said that I should keep a journal, so I can always remember what happened to me. Today isn’t my birthday, but another elf was born last week. Mother said they were worried I would get upset that I was no longer the youngest and wouldn’t get all the attention, so they gave me a gift. I don’t think the new baby wants the attention I get. All Father and Mother do is yell at me for not doing what they want, but I don’t understand what they want. Maybe Astarion will understand. But right now he is just a squishy ugly baby with BIG GOBLIN EARS. They are SO BIG. I hope he grows into them, like the hunting dogs’ puppies.”

On the other side of the page was a crude child’s drawing of what appeared to be a fat baby’s head with cherubic cheeks and some rudimentary curls. Attached to either side were massive elf ears. Surprised, Gale guffawed most uncharacteristically and turned the journal to show everyone. They all laughed, except Astarion, who grumbled in embarrassment.

“Mother says I have to take care of Astarion, it is my ‘role.’ All the Mothers tell me that I should prepare myself, even if it might never happen. Having to take care of him makes me feel gross. The way the Mothers talk about babies makes me feel grosser. I tried taking him away from them, so they’d stop making me feel bad and wouldn’t make him feel bad either, but they yelled at me and made me sit in the rocks again. It’s not Star’s fault. He’s just a baby. One day he’ll be my age, will he feel like this too? All the other children are so much older than me, they treat me like a baby too. I feel like I’ve grown up a lot in a year. I have to grow up just enough to protect Star but still be his friend.”

“Oh, that’s heartbreakin’…” Karlach interjected, holding her breath as she listened. The others were listening, reacting in their own little ways. Lae’zel was still cleaning up the mess. Shadowheart knelt, appearing as if in prayer. Wyll took special interest in each thing he picked up so he could put it in the appropriate pile. Halsin listened with compassionate sadness, while Astarion sat like a statue, frozen in place.

Gale skipped ahead, his wizard’s mind able to quickly read and catalog the information, especially as the Elvish got better. Something made him smile. 

“Astarion keeps stealing my socks. Why socks? At least they’re clean socks. A lot of stuff keeps going missing and showing up somewhere else and I think it’s him. A lot of them let Astarion into their caravan for no reason and let him do what he pleases, but I’ve seen him sneak into our caravan before to steal my socks. Whenever I catch him, he sticks them on his ears and says ‘I can’t hear you! I have feet for ears!”

Everyone but Astarion laughed once more.

“That’s so strange… It looks like she wrote or drew something every day, but there’s a whole year missing. The pages are ripped out.” Shadowheart pointed out, having flipped through a few of the journals herself. “She said Astarion left when she was 35, so the year after is missing.”

Everyone was making comments about him, but Astarion was deaf as he picked out a bundle of papers from the pile. One edge of them was jagged. He undid the piece of string holding them together and unfolded them.

“Lorelai will behave. Lorelai will eat. Will drink. Rest. Do as she is told. Stay. Not bite off her tongue. Not use the fire. Not practice the sword or the bow or with hands. She will not talk back, she will not scream or raise her voice. She will speak only when spoken to and always be polite. She will not interact with outsiders. She must always be accompanied. Always be clean. Lorelai will be a good girl. Lorelai will apologize for what she’s done. I am a good girl. I promise to be good. I am sorry for what I’ve done.”

The torn pages lined up with those tears in the journal. The first page after was a depiction of a black circle. Taking the journal from Astarion, Gale pointed at the picture. “I’ve seen that. In her head. ‘Something old, something bad. Evil, mean old Lorelai.’”

Gale flipped past some more drawings and lists of typical adventurer things like how many supplies she had and where she was going. Then it went back to a sane depiction of a journal.

“I am not a good girl. I will not do as I’m told. I will not behave. I will eat and drink to spite them. I will bite my tongue when it suits me, when its sharpness cannot aid me. I will speak loud and clear when I please. I will be alone. I will not apologize. I am not sorry for what I’ve done, my only regret is that I let them control me. I won’t let anyone control me ever again.

“I am never coming back. I will never forgive these transgressions against me. I will not forget them, but I will bury them, in a hole deep and dark and bottomless inside me. The hole they made in me, where my heart and family should be.

“I don’t believe that Astarion left in order to leave me behind. He loves to chase and be chased. But I will always wonder, if that was true, why didn’t he turn back to find me? Maybe they were right. I will grant them this small token of grace. Maybe I was abandoned, as I abandon in kind.

“I am far from my 100th year, but I shake off the yoke of my name. Everyone I meet will know me as Eletha, a name Astarion always liked, and I will fashion myself a Nighstar. Who will ever know it’s not true? I might not ever be important, these might be the only words ever written about me, but when I speak this name, I will know that I am more than what I was meant to be.”

“I can’t tell if that’s sad or brave…” Wyll whispered to himself.

“What’s… E… Sum? Hey, I’m getting pretty good at this Elvish thing!” Karlach said excitedly, holding up a letter she’d been inspecting. Gale, Shadowheart, Halsin, and Astarion went blank-faced.

“It says, ‘To my Son’,” Halsin explained gently and quietly, so Eletha couldn’t overhear them.

“I do not understand. As in a male child?” Lae’zel asked.

“Yes, Lae’zel. And seeing as Eletha is a female child…” 

Shadowheart laughed nervously, pinching Halsin’s arm to get him to shut up. “Maybe it’s for Astarion! And she just… forgot about it.”

“As nice as that seems…” Gale started darkly, holding Eletha’s journal with the pages ripped out, “With the knowledge I have, of all the theories I’ve considered, and the fact that I can recognize Eletha’s hand, it is most likely that this is to her son…”

Everyone sat in stunned silence for a moment. Then Karlach looked at Astarion and offered him a strained smile. “Congratulations?”

“That paper seems awfully old. And it looks like it was never sealed,” Wyll pointed out, taking the letter from Karlach. “She never sent this. Why keep it? I guess it’s like the others. Felt too guilty to burn it? Thrown in the bag and forgotten?”

“We shouldn’t read that, right? Even dictating every event of her life for over 260 years is less personal than that,” Shadowheart insisted warily, carefully taking the letter from Wyll and handing it to Gale.

“It is, however, the center of the problem,” Gale explained firmly. “If anyone is to read it, it should be Astarion.”

“Why should I read it?!” he yelled out, his voice cracking. Some of them leaned away nervously. “Don’t look at me like I’m crazy! This is crazy! This is insane! And not the least bit funny.”

“It is okay to be upset,” Halsin told him gently.

“Of course it’s okay! This is very upsetting! I’m sure for someone like you, this would come as no surprise! Almost two months ago, I was just a vampire spawn hunting for my master. I’ve had an old lover show up who wants to play mind games, go insane, and now this?!”

“I don’t think it’s mind games, bud,” Karlach said, going through a journal that appeared to be in Common instead of Elvish, although sometimes the script slipped and she had trouble reading it. “Look. 50 years ago. She met an elf on the road, they hit it off, they try to give it a go, she has a lot of nasty feelings after. Talks about this black pit, yeah? And it gets all hard to read. Then she says someone named Mellia found her and took care of her until she got better.”

“Mmm, sounds much like now. She’s spiraling,” Shadowheart said, taking the journal and reading the same bit like they were in some book club with only one copy.

“Down, down, down, spiraling down. Cracked like an egg, to hatch or to eat? The dry leaves sound lovely under our feet,” Gale repeated in a hollow sing-song voice, stroking his beard in thought.

“That’s right fucked.” Some murmured in agreement. Karlach looked at them all, hoping for an answer. “So what do we do? Hide all the booze? Make her stay awake?”

“Honestly, she was fighting harder before this little… break,” Wyll remarked. “I’d be happy if we could get back to that.”

“Eletha has been avoiding this since the beginning. This is an invitation as much as it is an explanation. She needs to say these words herself, so she might share the burden,” Halsin explained with the dispassion of a healer trying to be taken seriously at the expense of compassion.

“I didn't want to go to that hag, but Wyll was right. Damn those foolish boys and their foolish sister. People go to hags for a reason. They want something and there is payment. They are desperate and stupid and they don't understand that. I left Ethel and Mayrina alone because the girl made her choice. My parents, Astarion’s parents, the whole clan, they took my choice away from me.

“I can still hear that hag’s mockery in my head. ‘A dead dog is a better mother than you. Just as selfish and stupid as this girl. You should be ashamed of yourself, trying to smother a babe before it’s even born.’

“She’s wrong. I made the right choice, to walk away. He didn't deserve a mother like me. No child does. 

“If Mellia turned me, could she make me forget, like Astarion? Could Aluin just say some words, wiggle his fingers, or brew me a potion? Maybe this adventure will be my last and it’ll be some other elf’s problem in a hundred years. I’m sorry for haunting your reveries, my next life.

“I’m sorry, everyone. I wanted to protect you, to be strong for you. More bright shiny faces that I led through darkness and danger. Like I did for so many before you, I wanted to be your shield against the cruelty of the world, but I’m afraid my steel is brittle and my wood rotten. I can’t be your mother any more than I could be his.”

“The rest is… scribbles,” Gale explained in saddened resignation, flipping past indecipherable text and grotesque attempts at artistry.

“Maybe we should put these away,” Halsin said, taking the pouch from Astarion and carefully putting journals in one by one. The others made tidy piles in front of them and passed the pouch around, until Gale was handing it back to Astarion.

“She did say that they were yours now,” he explained when Astarion started to push it away. “Although. A bag of holding just for texts? I would gladly take it off your hands.” 

“No, you can’t eat this one,” Astarion growled, putting his body in between the bag and Gale. Gale chuckled and smiled, easing the tension around the camp.

Astarion sat in his tent, alone, staring at the things in his lap. One was the wallet, and on top of it, the well-worn letter. He fingered its edge in agitation. A little tear formed and he panicked. Very carefully, he set it aside and opened the wallet once more. He placed the letters into little piles. 

Letters addressed to Lorelai, unopened. 

Letters addressed to Eletha, in smaller piles by sender. There were quite a few from people named ‘Mellia, Your Sanguine Companion’, ‘Aluin of Suzail’, ‘Tyrlumin, Your Melodic Cha’, and ‘Bromthrum Starkhammer, Provider of Fine Crafts.’ 

There were miscellaneous letters, some very old, from people thanking her for heroic deeds or just simple acts of kindness. There was even one thanking her for the exceptional quality of a set of mink pelts she provided that went into making a coat for some king Astarion never heard of.

He read them, because he couldn’t help himself. She seemed very close with her humanoid companions, which probably explained why she had so many letters.

Mellia, mysterious and charming, her oldest and possibly closest friend. They met when a pack of gnolls were terrorizing some little farming town. They banded together to slaughter every one. Eletha was just passing by, Mellia was a vampire that had an accord with one of the village leaders. 

It made his blood boil; he couldn’t think of a higher vampire and not see Cazador, but her letters were so… sweet. Not fake sweet. She would recount some event or vista that made her think of Eletha and their adventures. It was hard to imagine a vampire soaking with an elf in a hot spring up in some monster-infested mountains, but they apparently had 50 years ago. 

‘I am glad that I could keep you away from the edge once more, my lovely friend. Maybe it is time you venture to Baldur’s Gate? I will gladly join you, and I know that you have other friends that would answer the call.’ 

A band of hardened adventurers, showing up at Cazador’s palace, demanding he relinquish his favorite spawn? A story for the ages… 

Aluin the human mage, whose words read nothing like Gale’s. Even as he grew older, his boyish exuberance could still be heard in his retellings of discoveries and mishaps. She lost her eye protecting him from a warg and guided him back to Suzail. To return the favor, he offered her a magic eye. It allowed her to peer into memories of places, things, and people, to see them as they once were. Aluin wanted her to take him on many adventures and he always thanked her from the bottom of his heart for every scrap of an artifact she sent to him from her travels. There was a subtle love in his words. 

Tyrlumin, a half-drow bard, whose age she could not discern. He often talked to her like she was a child, but had his own childish penchant for getting into trouble. They met on the road, nothing special, but they were drawn to one another. It seemed he used her for inspiration in some of his songs. He would run into her, seemingly not by accident, and they would travel together until he would disappear in the night, leaving behind a note. It was often a dirty limerick.

Finally, Bromthrum, a purveyor of high-quality dwarven goods, trading to princes, wizards, and thieves alike. She came to his aid upon the road as he was waylaid by bandits. They shared a fondness for drink and smoke. He sounded enamored by her elven beauty and the artistry she employed in battle. She seemed drawn to his complete lack of similarities to elves. He gave her steep discounts on goods and she protected his caravan when she was around. 

Astarion didn’t touch the sealed letters. Maybe he had some sense of propriety. They were all so old… It seemed they stopped only 50 years after she left the Dales.

Then there were two. For their E’Sum. For Astarion Ancunin, Baldur’s Gate.

This, too, was old, but not as old as some. Likely, this letter would have never reached him. The furthest it might have gotten was to Cazador, and then what jealous hellfire would his master have rained upon him for receiving a letter from a long-lost lover?

It was meant for him. That meant he could read it, no? It found him, after all these years.

Astarion snuck into Gale’s tent.

“Can I help you?” Gale grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“I need you to read this,” Astarion insisted, shoving the letter at him. Gale moved away, offended as Astarion pressed the piece of parchment into his chest.

“I think you're quite capable of reading.”

“I can't do it.”

“Then don't read it.”

“But it's for me.”

“Then I shouldn't be reading it.”

“Dammit Gale, can you just do this for me?” Astarion hissed. “Can you stop being an emotionless pompous arse for one minute?”

“I'm not emotionless, I’m exhausted. That wasn’t exactly easy on me, either. I didn’t even tell you some of the horrible things in those journals,” Gale explained, but took the letter anyway. A little hurt he said, “Is that how you see me?”

“Gale, I need the attention now, or I'm going to start stabbing people.”

“How is that different from usual?” Gale muttered as he opened the letter. “Dear Astarion, stop being dramatic and let Gale sleep.”

“You’re aware of how much of an ass you are, yes?”

“My precious Star,” Gale started, ignoring him. He actually put a little emotion into it. Astarion listened intently. “ Aluin says that writing letters is healing, that ordering our thoughts to communicate them helps us understand ourselves as much as it helps others understand us. I’m not as good with words as Mellia or Lumin. 

“I guess you don't know any of these people. They are friends I've made along the way and if we meet again, I want you to meet them. They’ve helped me a lot, taught me that I deserve to be loved and helped. I don’t always believe them, but it is what it is. Do you remember Heilar saying that all the time, when you’d tell him I beat you unfairly during sword practice? I wonder if I still can. 

“I spent a long time hating you, but I always loved you. I never wished ill on you, even when I hated you the most. I always wondered what I did to make you leave me behind. I always wondered if you thought I'd follow. I wanted to, but our parents bade me stay. Then they made me stay.

“What is it like, in Baldur’s Gate? I always wanted to go to Waterdeep instead.” Gale's eyes lit up suddenly and he opened his mouth to make some quip, but when he looked up, Astarion was the picture of anxiety, biting his lip, knees to his chest, fear in his eyes. 

“It took me a long time to accept responsibility for what happened. I would always say to myself that you left a mess behind, you did this to me, that it was all your fault. It was best that you left, because if you'd stayed, I don't want to imagine what you would have done. Would you take their side, or defend me tooth and nail? I couldn't bear it if you were just another person I couldn't forgive. But I wouldn’t want our family’s blood on your hands either.

“The last time I was truly happy, lost in your arms, we made something together. I don't know his name. I left as soon as I could. I'm sorry that I can't tell you anything about him. I would think that your parents would try to write to you, but maybe they think it meant nothing to you. They try to write to me, but I can't read them. I don't want to read them, but I can't destroy them.

“No matter how many friends I make, how many people I help, I will always know that I am a callous monster. Despite how rare it is, despite what it would mean for our families and our people, I didn't want to keep the thing you left behind in me. Knowing it was there filled me with a sickness that went beyond any story the Mothers told me. I was no longer myself, I was just a vessel. I found myself repulsive, wanted to claw off my skin to get free. I tried to find some way to be rid of it, but our mothers caught me. 

“At first they aimed to tame me with guilt and shame. They told me I was irresponsible, cowardly, a disgrace, for trying to throw away this blessing that felt to me like a curse, a punishment. There were only hard eyes and sharp words for me. I became desperate and tried my own ways of removing my curse. When they denied me that, I tried to bite through my own tongue to spare myself the pain of my burden and it the pain of having me for a mother.

“They took turns, holding me with their magic, giving me no choice but to do what they deemed right. I looked out of my eyes on a world that became hostile and full of villains, faces made of cruelty. The body that moved was not my own, but I still felt that awful feeling in my heart, felt trapped in my own skin just as much as in their power.

“I'm not sorry that I left, so why do I feel guilty? Broken? I'm not sorry for being broken. Was this soul always broken, throughout its many lives? Maybe it carries its own curse.

“I made a deal with a fey. In exchange for never bearing children again, I am cursed to burn by the emptiness of the new moon. It hurt, at first, but not as much as that year hurt. The fey thought me mad for requesting such a simple silly thing and not real power. Maybe I am. You have to be pretty mad to make a fey question your request.

“I’m sorry. I love you. I forgive you. I don't expect you to forgive me. I hope you can still love me, as unlovable as I am. The light has long gone out. Maybe you love someone else now. Even still, I will love you.

“Ever your sword and shield- Lori

P.S. I doubt you will ever hear my new name, I am just a simple hunter, but if you ever hear the name Eletha Nightstar, know that she is thinking of you when she looks to the stars.”

At some point, Astarion had placed his head in Gale’s lap. So caught up in the letter, Gale didn't notice. Now that he was done, he freed up a hand to pat Astarion’s head. “Can I go back to sleep now?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Gale whispered tiredly, still stroking Astarion’s hair. “It’s going to be okay. Tomorrow is another day.”

In the morning, Lae’zel, Karlach, Wyll, and Shadowheart headed out to do some scouting and search for any signs of the spirit Thaniel. Halsin went to Last Light Inn to check on Art Cullagh after assuring all the animals that he was coming back. 

Astarion and Gale spent all of ten minutes pretending to read before starting a kissing contest. They rolled back and forth, trying to get leverage on the other, unpinning arms to tear at the other's clothes. 

Gale had his hand up Astarion’s shirt when Astarion stopped him, one hand over Gale’s mouth and the other indicating that the wizard be silent. With a serious look on his face, he concentrated on the sound he swore he just heard.

Perhaps a few feet away from Gale’s tent, some stones crunched under someone’s foot as they shifted their weight. Then they walked away.

Astarion renewed their activities by playfully biting Gale’s lip and taking this moment of surprise to roll on top of him. He had Gale’s trousers undone when a new sound came from outside. It was Bonnet whining and Pellet, the owlbear cub, chirping erratically.

Gale practically threw Astarion off of him so he could quickly lace up his pants and see what was happening. After the initial shock, and arousal, of Gale tossing him wore off, Astarion followed.

“What are you doing?!” Gale cried angrily, rushing towards the campfire where the two animals were hopping up and down in distress.

Kneeling in the remains of their fire was Eletha, shuddering as she wept. Gale grabbed her from behind and as he pulled her away, she fought him. Kicking and clawing, she tried to get back to the scattered charcoal still glowing with heat.

“I’m sorry!” Eletha pleaded through her tears in Elvish. She stopped fighting Gale and instead clung to his arms wrapped around her chest and torso. “I’m sorry, I'm sorry.”

“Hush, now,” Gale commanded her, placing one hand on her head and stroking back her hair. “Astarion, go find something to mend her burns.”

Astarion stared on in disbelief until Gale snapped at him. “Listen for once!”

Bonnet was carrying over one of Eletha’s many bags as Astarion dug around in their supplies. Right, she’d have something for burns.

Why did Gale give him this task? He was closer to a cleric than Astarion was. When was the last time he had to clean a wound?

Because Gale knew better how to comfort. Stroking her hair, offering her kind words or distractions as she wept and gasped for air.

With Bonnet’s help, Astarion brought over a bottle of water, some rags, and her bag. He dumped out its contents and with keen intelligence, the bear found the items immediately. They were even labeled in her careful hand.

Eletha didn’t whimper or shift in pain as the potion caused her skin to bubble or when he wiped it away to reveal raw skin. All the while, she desperately muttered apologies. For hiding in her tent. For yelling at them. For things that had nothing to do with them. 

By the time Astarion was carefully covering her burns with a salve, she fell silent, save for a few sniffles or shuddering breaths.

“How about I make you something to eat, hm?” Gale asked her softly, finally able to extricate himself from her clutches. “A good meal makes everyone feel better.”

Pellet crawled into her lap as Bonnet laid her large head on an uninjured portion of her legs, making it impossible to move. Eletha wrapped the owlbear in a hug and buried her face in his feathers.

Astarion didn’t know what to do. He didn’t eat, so he didn’t know how to cook, and thus wasn’t about to offer Gale help. He didn’t know how to comfort and the animals seemed to be handling that front. 

A part of him felt that he needed comfort. It wasn’t exactly relaxing or pleasant to have his activities with Gale, the closest he’d come to sex since that night of the party, interrupted by his old lover and- gods, mother of his child- punishing herself in some insane way.

No wonder she got along with that Loviatar priest in the goblin stronghold.

What was he supposed to do?

Nothing. This wasn’t his problem. Eletha brought it upon herself. Who was he to tell her to stop? Why did he have to comfort her when she’d been keeping this secret from him this whole time?

Well, he had his own secrets. And clearly this one had been eating her from the inside until she cracked. And she had pledged to help him with his problems, even when she felt that he’d transgressed against her.

Nope. He’d done his part. 

What was he going to do now, hunt down some elf nearly as old as himself, whose name he didn’t know, that he had no idea what he looked like? He was probably off in the Dales and they were headed for Baldur’s Gate.

Astarion returned to his tent. Grabbing the book he was currently reading, he hesitated at the sight of Eletha’s bag of holding.

He’d decided to keep the letter addressed to him, at Gale’s insistence that it was meant for him and now he knew its contents anyway.

Sitting on top of the bag was the faded letter with ‘E’Sum’ printed on the front in Eletha’s beautiful Elvish hand.

Part of him couldn’t make the decision to put it back in the bag and forget about it. It wasn’t for him.

But it was likely about him…

Eletha was still hiding her face in Pellet’s coat but Bonnet had apparently deemed her no longer a flight risk and was face-deep in the cast-offs from Gale’s preparations. Gale was humming a song to himself.

Astarion approached Eletha. She shifted her grip on Pellet as the owlbear shifted to regard him with those big innocent eyes. To think something so adorable would grow up to be a massive killing machine…

“It’s… okay,” he managed to say to her quietly, not wanting Gale to overhear. He had the feeling he was doing something wrong and the wizard would Bone Chill him out of spite. “I… know why you’re upset.”

Eletha sniffled and turned her head in his direction, but didn’t look at him. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. I… want to say I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s all quite sunk in yet…”

Was this comforting? Was this how this conversation was supposed to go? He hadn’t rehearsed it properly. There always came a point when she stabbed him to death or ran off only to be taken by the shadow curse.

Astarion felt the tadpole in his head wriggle. He didn’t really want to open himself up to whatever she was feeling. 

He did anyway.

They stood on the edge of a black hole, much like the one Gale described to him, except this one was slowly closing.

He felt it intensely, those horrifying feelings that she transcribed to him. The dark pit made sense. He wanted to escape his own skin. Pieces were being taken out of him and he didn’t know how many more he could spare before he was used up, like a cake being sliced and served.

Gale was right. Astarion knew how she felt. To be controlled. To lose yourself. That hollow feeling. The rage against the things that hurt you. The fear of being hurt again.

“I’m sorry,” she told him softly. He had the impression that she was apologizing to more than just him. “I should have followed you. I should have brought him with me. Just been the person people expected me to be.”

“I’m… angry with you,” Astarion admitted, surprising himself. Eletha appeared to be expecting it. “Angry that you walked into my life and told me that, if you’d just made one decision differently, then maybe Cazador would have never turned me. I started blaming you, for all those years of pain and misery I endured while you were gallivanting around Faerûn. But turns out… that life wasn’t as charmed as I assumed…”

Eletha looked at him and without speaking, he knew what she wanted to say.

“You can stop punishing yourself. There was no choice where everyone was happy.”

They stood and watched the pit knit itself back together, like a spider weaving its web.

“Can I show you something?”

“Is it something awful again?” he asked with a resigned sigh.

“No. Something nice I’ve been thinking about lately.”

“Then please. This is somehow making me bored and anxious at the same time.”

The world became bright and green. A wave of calm washed over him, knocking off the darkness clinging to him. He was… happy. Safe.

Someone grabbed him from behind, but he wasn’t afraid. In fact, he laughed. 

Eletha laughed, he corrected. Her stomach fluttered in excitement as warm kisses were pressed to her neck.

Of course, it was Astarion, resplendent in his beauty, smiling and laughing with her. He made it look so easy… Because for this version of him, it was.

Astarion slipped something around Eletha’s neck. It was a pendant, much like the one he’d snatched from her in the Emerald Grove, but this one glowed a subtle blue.

“Because I’m thinking about you,” Astarion whispered in her ear, watching over her shoulder as she inspected the gift. “So you know that I’m always thinking about you.”

“You’re such a sap,” Eletha teased him, but he could feel the radiating warmth of joy and love spread throughout her body.

Astarion tried to hold on to that feeling as he came back into his own mind.

Eletha’s hand was on his, softly stroking it.

“Good to see you two getting along again,” Gale said, holding out a bowl to Eletha. Pellet vacated her lap so she could take it.

Eletha moved the food around with her fork. “I'm sorry for interrupting you.”

“Interrupting?”

“You smell like each other,” she explained dispassionately. Gale choked on some of his food.

When the others came back, they found Gale finishing up their supper, Astarion lounging about with a book and a goblet of wine, and Eletha going through her things in a very meticulous fashion.

“We had a fantastic day lazing about camp, thank you for asking,” Astarion remarked sarcastically as everyone stared at Eletha. 

“What… happened?” Shadowheart asked, hesitating as she put down her pack.

“Time and food heal most wounds,” Gale answered with a little smile, satisfied with how his latest soup came out.

“Lethi, darlin’, whatcha up to?” Karlach approached the arrangement of items taking up most of the free space in camp. “Lookin’ for something?”

“I took the journal, I told you already,” Gale called insistently over his shoulder.

Eletha stood up and inspected her things one more time. Then she walked over to Astarion, which caused everyone but Gale to hold their breath. The last time they saw the two interact, it had been explosive.

She held out a hand, palm up. 

“Hand it over.”

Astarion chuckled nervously. “You gave me that bag, but if you want it back…”

“Not the bag-” Eletha paused, clearly thinking, “but I’ll take that back too. I meant the platinum.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s really low, stealing from an insane woman,” she told him with a sigh of disappointment.

Astarion huffed and closed his book with a defeated thump. “Fine. You caught me.”

“You’ve been carrying platinum around this whole time?” Wyll asked in disbelief.

“While we’ve been living off the coin we find in people’s pockets and scraping together every copper we can get from selling the junk we find?” Shadowheart added a little indignantly. Then she shook her head. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t be complaining about that right now.”

“It’s-” Eletha stopped, a far away look coming into her eyes. After a moment, conscious thought returned. “Well. I always told myself it was for my son. But giving money to someone you abandoned at birth isn’t really a good look, is it?”

“Ah… probably not,” Karlach told her sympathetically, patting her friend on the shoulder. “It’s the thought that counts?”

“Not really, but I appreciate the sentiment.” 

Eletha counted the coins that Astarion reluctantly dumped into her hand. 

She looked up at him.

They stared each other down silently. 

He sighed and put one more platinum coin in her hand.

“Put it back,” she told him and a little smile bloomed on her lips as he huffed petulantly and put back the coin he’d palmed. “Thank you.”

“Glad to have you back,” Astarion retorted with a tone like a child sticking out their tongue.

“Now,” Eletha said brightly, addressing everyone, “tell me what I’ve missed.”

That night, after giving everyone personal apologies for inconveniencing and worrying them, Eletha brought a bottle of something to Gale’s tent.

“Is that… from Evermeet?” he asked in total disbelief, handling the masterfully crafted bottle with the utmost care.

“I know it’s not much-”

“Not much? I assure you, this is much.”

“Whatever, Gale, just take it,” Eletha told him angrily. The anger dissipated quickly, giving way to embarrassment. “Sorry, I just- I wanted to thank you.”

“Thanks isn’t necessary,” Gale reassured her, putting down the bottle next to the wine he’d just been drinking.

“It is. Mellia used to be there for me, when things got dark, but they’ve never been… that dark.”

“I’m glad I could help you, but I’m not sure that I did much. Especially not as much as Feywild wine.”

She waved his comment off. Smiling, she said, “I’m glad you and Astarion are getting along.”

“I didn’t know we were…” Gale chuckled a little, embarrassed.

“I’m not surprised in the least.”

“Am I that oblivious?”

Eletha shrugged, a smile on her lips. “A little. But Astarion has a way of… being obvious? But at the same time… not-so-obvious.”

“I understand what you mean.” Gale spun the bottle around slowly, looking it over again. “You appear clear-headed. Considering the circumstances.”

“Well, I finally found this old thing,” she said, pulling a pendant out from under her shirt. “It makes the wearer calm.”

“A pity you couldn’t find it sooner.”

“I have a lot of stuff. And it’s been 50 or so years since I needed it, so…” Eletha shrugged as she put the pendant back under her shirt. “When I’m calm, the whole thing feels… silly?”

“It is a complex situation. Your… imprisonment was cause enough, in my opinion.”

“I’m sorry that you felt that. This… thing is hard to control.” She wiggled her finger by her head, indicating their mindflayer tadpoles.

“It helped me understand your pain.” Eletha laughed and Gale smiled a little, although uncertainly. “What is so funny?”

“I’ve put you all through the wringer, you and Astarion especially. And yet… I just keep thinking about what we’d be doing now if I didn’t fuck it all up.” Gale opened his mouth to argue, but she held up a hand to stop him. 

“I’ve been… insane. And when I’m not insane, I just self-sabotage. I was afraid of being happy, and the possibility slipped through my fingers. I’ve had to live with that feeling many times, it’s nothing new.”

“There is still a long road ahead.”

Eletha chuckled as she got up. “Oh, Bhin, you’re breaking an old lady’s heart.”

“Thank you… for the wine, I mean,” he told her, unsure of himself. She graced him with a warm smile before moving on.

Astarion was hiding in his tent. With the shadow curse all around them, there was no reason to go out at night. He had to find ways to entertain himself while he waited for everyone else to rest.

“Knock knock,” Eletha called from outside in a soft voice.

He didn’t really want to talk to her. But she wanted to talk to him and that was… good, right?

“Come in.” Astarion made space for her. As she settled in beside him, she pressed something into his hand. 

A platinum coin. 

His brows furrowed. “What is this for?”

“It’s rude to visit empty-handed,” she told him, amused. Eletha spied her bag of journals and letters. “I admire you. In a way.”

“Oh? That’s a new one. I mean, I’m used to being admired, but not in the way you mean.”

“Okay, maybe I don’t.” Eletha shot him an annoyed glare. Carefully, she picked up the old letter sitting out. “I feel guilty, because there’s a boy- a man- out there wondering where I went. Wondering why I don’t love him. Like how I always wondered why my parents didn’t love me.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Astarion told her, trying to be helpful. “Maybe he thinks we’re both dead!”

“For once, you’re right.”

Internally, Astarion sighed with relief.

“Don’t act surprised.”

“Other than that, I don’t feel guilty. If I had my way, this wouldn’t even be a problem. I don’t feel bad for leaving, he didn’t deserve to be saddled with me.”

“I’ve been saddled with you for almost two months and it’s enough to turn my hair white,” Astarion said with a roll of his eyes. She laughed.

“I admire that… you’re responsible for who knows how many people becoming midnight meals for Cazador and it’s okay because you had no choice,” Eletha said quite seriously, fingering the soft edge of her old letter. “I had no choice. So why must I feel guilty?”

“Maybe we should go to the Dales when this is all over, hunt down our families, and slaughter them all?” A devilish smirk tugged at her lips and Astarion laughed a little too maniacally. “I knew it. Bloodshed makes everything better.”

“So does fucking, if memory serves me right.”

“Yes, well, that too.”

“Sorry. Again.”

“Oh, it’s fine, darling. I have the sneaking suspicion that Gale isn’t quite aware that we’re playing this game. Even after I’ve had my tongue in his mouth and a hand down his pants.”

“That makes it fun.”

“We’re two peas in a pod,” Astarion said with a giddy little smile. “I can see why I liked you. I still do, mind you. Aside from all the tears and terrifying aggression.”

“That means a lot to me.” Eletha leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. If he had any decent amount of blood in him, he might have blushed. Holding up her bag, she asked, “Mind if I take these back?”

“Go ahead, my dear, I’m afraid I’ve already read all the good bits.” He held up the platinum coin between his thumb and forefinger. “Besides, you’ve paid me more than generously for it.”

Through the space between his tent and the flap, Astarion watched as Eletha sat by the fire. 

Pipe clamped in her teeth, she would open a letter and read its contents. Then the fire would momentarily blaze as the piece of parchment was consumed by the heat.

Finally came the last one, old and faded. She regarded it, despite knowing its contents by heart.

It went up in smoke, just like the rest.

Chapter Text

In the morning, Eletha was ready to go before anyone got up. She’d even started breakfast.

“You’re up bright and early,” Wyll remarked, one of the first to greet her.

“Early, at least,” Karlach said with a little laugh, indicating the permanent darkness that surrounded them. 

“I already have a plan of action for the next few days. We’ve wasted enough time waiting around for me to put my head on straight.” Eletha relinquished control of the cookware to Gale, who practically snatched the fork out of her hand.

“Are you sure you’re… okay?” Shadowheart asked hesitantly.

“Oh. No. No, I wouldn’t say I’m okay.” Seeing the looks they all gave her, Eletha chuckled. “I was never okay. Just… distracted. I can’t do anything about the whole… But I can do something about the problems that face us now.”

“Well said,” Gale said before turning back to their breakfast.

“Besides, I always feel better with a bloody blade in my hand.”

“I could not agree more.” Lae’zel’s eyes blazed with passion.

Before they headed out, Astarion approached Eletha.

“I know you said that I should stay behind with Gale and I normally wouldn't mind languishing around camp while you trudge waist-deep through curses and undead sludge, but-” 

Astarion stopped mid-speech as Eletha stopped digging through her bag and started rotating around, hand outstretched to the sky. Seemingly, she wasn't listening.

“Relapsing into madness again so quickly?”

“It's a sunglass. Can't be combusting in the middle of a fight,” she explained, tilting the piece of glass until she caught a glimmer of light. As she tucked it into her hip pouch she asked, “What did you want to tell me?”

“I wanted to come along. That's all. Wyll said it was fine if I took his place,” Astarion answered, throwing his words away as if it was no big deal.

“Okay.”

Astarion pouted a little. “You're not going to ask?”

“No.” Eletha stopped what she was doing and looked at him from the corner of her eye. He huffed and started walking away. She rolled her eyes and called after him, exasperated, “Why do you want to come so bad?”

“To look after you, of course,” he answered, practically sparkling. 

“Oh. You want praise.” He smacked her hand away when she tried to pat his cheek. She smiled. “Thank you. It's sweet of you to care.”

“I don't care and I'm not sweet. I have a personal interest in keeping you alive and not insane.”

“I get it. You're a magnificent bastard. So sorry, for implying you would be so weak as to look out for someone because you care.”

“That's right. I suppose all that brain damage hasn't made you stupid yet. Now that that’s settled.” Astarion turned and hesitated.

He ever so slightly wiggled his ass in her direction. To anyone else, he was merely shifting in place, maybe working out a stiff muscle.

Eletha smirked. “Right. Best head out.”

As she passed him, she brought back her hand and smacked his backside so hard that he yelped and jumped a little.

“What is wrong with you, woman?!” he screeched, holding a hand to his stinging cheek.

“A lot.”

“This seem important to y’all?” Eletha asked, holding up the lute she just pulled off this weird doctor character.

“Are we gonna talk about how, in the past 4 hours, you've convinced someone to explode and another to let himself be brutally stabbed to death?” Karlach asked hesitantly, watching the mad nurses go back to their routines as if nothing happened.

“I dunno, I liked how that other one was full of gold,” Astarion remarked with a satisfied little smile.

“Why would he have a lute?” Eletha asked herself, ignoring Karlach’s question, looking over the instrument. She found some initialing carved into the neck. “That Art Cullagh guy seemed like the musical sort.”

“Well, he was insane. And he did seem to enjoy it…” Shadowheart said, regarding the gore with disgust.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Eletha said as she started to walk towards the back of the decrepit hospital.

“Because of the whole…” Karlach hesitantly made circles over her abdomen with a sympathetic pained face. Eletha’s eyebrows lowered in confusion.

“What? No. No, that probably happened in, like, the dirt, right? A pile of leaves?”

“You don't know?” Karlach asked, confused herself.

“Kinda blocked that bit out, yeah.” Eletha went through the doctor’s things, searching for anything interesting. Or valuable.

“I don't envy you. I've heard it ruins your vagina,” Shadowheart remarked flippantly as she cleaned her nails.

“That can't be true,” Karlach breathed in disbelief, her voice stressed.

“Oh, yeah, you can tear your arsehole like paper,” Eletha answered, tearing a piece of paper she found for effect.

“No! Don't tell me that!” Karlach cried in distress, closing her eyes and putting her hands over her ears.

“Is that why you're so shy? Worried it’ll be a disappointment for anyone but an ogre?” Astarion teased, indicating Eletha’s crotch with a cunty little wave of a finger. Eletha chuckled, smacking his hand like he was a child in need of a lesson.

“Not sure if I'm flattered or disgusted that you're thinking about my vagina.” Astarion’s lips curled into a mischievous smirk.

“I'm not the only one. Should I break the news to Gale that it's more like the Underdark than a cozy little cave?”

“Yeah, I got some glowing mushrooms in there and everything. Brightens the place up,” Eletha told him cheerily, mimicking decorating a home.

“Do you think a wizard can localize an enlarge spell?” Astarion asked after a comic hum.

“Aww, it's okay, I'm sure Gale’s more into technique than equipment.” Eletha patted his shoulder mockingly, a look of false sympathy in her eyes. Astarion laughed a little bark of a laugh.

“He'd be good for you. He could lend you a magic hand from the other side of his tower, no men involved,” he retorted cattily.

“He does know how to make a good steak.” 

“Oh darling, you wound me.” Astarion dramatically swooned and Eletha had to stop him from tripping over himself.

“That's what you’ll be saying when he's done with you.”

“Gods you two are weird,” Karlach breathed,shaking her head as she watched them.

Eletha let Karlach and Shadowheart take the lead as they walked through the crypt and the Sharran temple beyond.

“You look like you want to say something,” Eletha remarked, not turning her head to regard Astarion trailing beside her.

“Well…”

“You look nervous about it too.” She squints, eyeing him suspiciously. “Don't tell me you're actually thinking about my holes right now.”

“Maybe,” he retorted haughtily, bobbing his head in a mocking manner. After a defeated huff, he went on, “I feel like I should apologize. I never considered the possibility that I ruined you for all other men physically, not just emotionally.”

Eletha rolled her eyes so hard they threatened to get stuck that way. “Corellon save me.”

Astarion clicked his tongue, annoyed at her reaction. “Would it make you feel better if I said I have selfish reasons too? I've been thinking about that night after the goblin camp for quite a while.”

Eletha smirked and snorted, giving him a suggestive lift of her eyebrows. “Parched, are you?”

“Practically dying.”

“Gale not living up to his divine endorsement?”

“He is a good kisser…” Astarion clicked his tongue at her again. “Don't change the subject.”

Eletha wondered how she got in this conversation and how she was going to get out.

“No one has complained, but that's not exactly a long list of possibilities and they probably had enough sense to not say anything.” She shrugged. “It used to just be uncomfortable, but as you know, I have quite the pain tolerance now.”

He emitted a soft “aww” and gave her sad eyes. She didn’t totally believe them, especially when his tone was a little too humorous. “You poor thing.” 

“Oh, look, a distraction!” she called out, pointing at a displacer beast skulking about.

Astarion sighed as he slipped his bow off his shoulder. “You’re no fun …”

“Did it go well?” Gale asked expectantly, following Eletha as she made for her tent.

“Bunch of cursed weirdos defeated, a clue to finding Thaniel, and a devil’s deal completed? Yes, a useful day,” she answered, laying down her weapons and stripping down to the clothes under her armor. 

“That is good to hear, but I was referring to, well, you.” He followed as she went towards where they'd set up a more “private” spot to bathe. It was nothing more than a bucket of cold water but it was better than nothing.

“You don't have to worry about me, Gale.”

“Perhaps, but I do.” He blushed and turned away as she started undressing, just like that night she showed them her curse. “If you desire, I can discuss this with you another time.”

“I’m not bothered. Are you bothered?”

“I… assumed you would be a bit more reserved, given… certain details.” Gale cleared his throat. “Anyway. You’ve been through a lot lately. I felt it prudent to check in.”

“Do I seem okay?”

“You seem like you’re burying your feelings. I should know, I’ve been doing that for a long time,” he said with a little self-deprecating chuckle.

Eletha touched his cheek and smiled softly. “You’re sweet, Bhin.”

“I was hoping for valiant or at least charming -” He stopped with a stammer as she got on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek. Her body brushed against his and a small gasp escaped his lips in surprise. “I… ahem … I will leave you to your ablutions.”

She watched him retreat with a coy little smirk on her face before continuing with her “bath.” After washing the blood and dust out of her hair and off her face, she called out, “I know you’re there.”

“And you let me watch anyway?” Astarion asked as he stepped out of his hiding place.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“Mm, yes, but not that little display with Gale.”

“Jealous?”

“A little. Your approach is much more subtle than mine, and I think it might be more effective.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The way your soft touch caught him off-guard. His heart leapt, thinking your lips would meet in a kiss. Your naked body just so happens to brush against him? I’m sure he’s in his tent thinking about it right now. He’s asking himself, how can I convince her to see me as more than just a fool, worthy of more than just her sweet sympathies?” 

As he spoke, Astarion divested himself of his own armor and the clothes underneath it. It wasn’t the first time they’d washed the blood and road off in each other’s company. It was almost… comforting, that they could just be naked with no sexual context. 

However, knowing Astarion, he’d probably encourage it. 

“You’ve got quite the imagination.” 

“It’s true, though, isn’t it?” he suggested with a smirk, taking the sponge out of her hand. She merely gave him a quizzical squint. He regarded the object as if it was very interesting. “You know, you make fun of me, for not having plans. But I had a plan, once.

“You were right. I did want to make you desire me, protect me. Our previous relationship made that complicated, obviously. So I prodded the others, as a backup. Lae’zel and Shadowheart were too guarded, too difficult. Wyll, the gallant monster hunter, spent a long time debating if I was worthy of living. Karlach, well, we couldn’t touch her. And she’s so… sweet, when she’s not terrifying. She likes you enough that she’d take your lead.

“That left me with Gale. Handsome, powerful, doomed Gale. A tough nut to crack, until you get under the social awkwardness, emotional miscues, and over-inflated self-importance.”

“Well, you have a lot of experience with that,” Eletha remarked, unmoving as Astarion very carefully rinsed the sponge and wet it again with fresh water.

“The secret, as you have probably guessed, is how utterly desperate he is to be touched.” 

Astarion squeezed out the water from the sponge, watching as it dripped onto Eletha’s shoulder and ran down her chest, sometimes catching on a scar and running in another direction. 

A gasp escaped from her throat. 

“He hid behind that orb, but really, he was so desperate that it made him sick.

“I feel awful. He was supposed to be a sacrificial pawn and I feel awful. Those books… How he quivers under my touch…” 

Astarion began wiping away blood and sweat from her neck and shoulders. Eletha wasn’t quite sure why she allowed him to. It felt… nice.

“Today you went after that orthon like he wasn’t three times your size, like it didn’t matter how hard he hit you. You did it for me, just like I hoped, but feared you wouldn’t.”

His hand traveled down her chest, cleaning the shallow valley between her breasts. “Did you have a plan for this conversation or…?”

He stopped following his hand with his eyes and gazed deeply into hers. 

“When was the last time someone took care of you, my love?”

Eletha flushed and as she looked away, she took hold of his wrist and pushed it towards him. “Don't be ridiculous.”

“What's ridiculous about it? Gale wants us both. I want you both. And you want us. Why not a cheeky little three-sided thing?”

“You presume a lot.”

“My sweet, don't play so aloof. I've read your diaries.” With his other hand, he trailed his middle finger along one collarbone and then down her sternum. “You deny this part of yourself because you feel it's undeserved. Haven't you suffered enough?”

Eletha hesitantly let go of his wrist.

“Let me take care of you. Show you how much I appreciate you?” he purred, his hand taking hold of her waist, his lips approaching hers, their hips nearly touching. 

Sensing the proximity of the body that once so perfectly interlocked with hers, the long-forgotten part of her body awoke with a heat that was searing in comparison to the chill surrounding them. 

Eletha began to tremble. 

For a moment, Astarion’s eyes appeared golden as they gazed deeply into hers. 

“Please?”

Eletha opened her mouth to speak, but another voice was heard.

“Could you two move this somewhere else? I need to wash my hair,” Shadowheart complained, huffing and undoubtedly crossing her arms over her chest, maybe even tapping her foot.

“Aww, Fringe, Lethi was going to finally get some…” Karlach complained quietly, although she could still be heard in the near-silence.

Eletha snatched the sponge out of Astarion’s hand and made a mad dash attempt at scrubbing the most important parts of her clean. When he stood there staring at her, she started cleaning him too, starting with his face so he couldn't argue. “Just a minute!”

Astarion glared at Shadowheart as he sauntered out behind a flustered Eletha. Karlach looked apologetic.

From his position at the campfire, Gale appeared to be watching Eletha go into her tent, a worried look on his face. Then he saw Astarion, practically glowing in his underwear under what little light there was, and his expression changed to a glower.

“It's not what you think,” Astarion said as he passed him.

“Sure…” Gale grumbled, turning his attention back to the food he spent all day preparing.

Night fell, sort of, and Astarion stood in front of Gale’s tent.

“Can I speak with you?” he asked, trying to avoid any sarcasm and only using a little sass.

“I suppose,” Gale answered after a moment of silent consideration.

He was clearly upset, pouting as he flicked through a tome.

Astarion put his hands on his hips. “Look. We didn't do anything.”

“So you say.”

“Don't be like that. You were considering it too.”

“That is prepos-”

“You're not fooling me.” Astarion snatched the book away. Holding it more gingerly, he said deliberately, “I’m… sorry.”

“What are you doing right now?” Gale asked suspiciously.

“When I didn't know if Eletha was going to gut me or not, I… had a plan. You would fall in love with me and I would, well… have a powerful wizard in my corner. All I had to do was not fall for you. And I failed.”

Gale shook his head. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

“Because you’re blind.” Astarion sighed, the flow of his speech interrupted. “I see you with her. You can’t be jealous. Of course, it’s still not clear to me if you’re mad that I am flirting or that she is being flirted with. But what does it matter? We all like each other.”

“I thought this was an apology, not a call to a ménage à trois.”

“It is! Or, it's supposed to be. You know I'm not good at this.” Astarion offered the book back, only to move it out of reach at the last second. “Live a little, Gale. Expand your mind. ”

Gale sighed wearily. “You've given me a lot to think about.”

Astarion’s lips curled in a self-satisfied little smile. “Hopefully something fun? ”

Gale snatched his book back. Astarion huffed, although playfully, and left.

After a while, Gale left his tent and softly made his way towards Eletha’s.

“Are you awake?” he whispered, not wishing to disturb her.

“Come in,” she answered, making space for him in the small tent.

He could tell that she’d been drinking, but not as much as before, so that was good, right? Still, he felt the need to give her an out from the conversation. “We can discuss this some other time, if that would be more suitable.”

“I have the feeling you’re going to ask me something that will be easier to answer in my current state.” Eletha gestured for him to go on. “This is casual intoxication, not running away from my feelings intoxication.”

Gale would have to take her word for it. “Did anything happen between you? Today, I mean.”

“Are you asking because you’re concerned for me, or for personal interests?” She took a sip of her drink. 

“Can it not be both?” Eletha hummed. He had a fair point.

“He was coming onto me. Genuinely, this time, which was surprising.”

Gale swallowed around a lump in his throat. “Were you going to accept?” 

“I didn’t really have the time to fully consider it.” Eletha offered him her drink and, after a moment’s hesitation, he took it. “I was going to tell him off. Then he said something that made me reconsider.”

“He can be quite convincing,” Gale agreed sourly before taking a sip of her drink. It was just wine, not that hard stuff that seemed to magically appear in her hands.

“Well, he was right, which, if Astarion is right, you’ve kinda fucked up, yeah?” She grinned at him and he laughed, because she was right. 

“He was right. I’ve been running away from happiness ever since he left. Felt I didn’t deserve it. When I’d try again, I’d just get hurt, and I’d punish myself more. Sometimes it was just the wrong person, it doesn’t work. But sometimes… maybe it could have worked? If I didn’t get this knot in my stomach that says I’m worthless?

“I’ve tried being friends. I can do friendship. And I feel bad, that maybe I’m getting your hopes up, and not because I like teasing you, but because I hate myself. I’m punishing myself, by getting attached and ruining everything.

“So I considered it. I wanted to say no, because it would hurt you, because I didn’t deserve it. But… I wanted to say yes, so it would hurt you and you’d hate me and that was its own punishment. And just a little bit… I was happy with him, once upon a time. Maybe I could be happy again.”

Gale listened intently. Eletha had a habit of rambling, but she chose her words and tone carefully. With practice, he could untangle them to find the naked truth underneath. This time, it was… familiar.

“Do you think you could be happy again?” he asked her sincerely, meeting her two-toned gaze with his big brown eyes, so open and sad.

“After all we’ve been through?” She laughed a little and his heart sank. Then she smiled. “Yeah. I do.”

“Then I wish you the best of luck.”

Gale held out her wine bottle, intending it as a symbol of releasing her from the burden of worrying about his feelings. Eletha took the bottle, but with her other hand, took hold of his. 

“You deserve to be happy too.” Her words were so sweet. She was being so sincere and he just… had a hard time believing it was true. “If you want him, just tell him. And if he has to choose… I’m sure he’ll choose you.”

“I am not as sure as you. He loves you. You have-” Gale cut himself off before he could say something that might make her spiral again. Eletha appeared to understand what he was going to say, but she still seemed pleasant and level-headed. “Why would he choose me? ”

“Because I’m old and boring. You’re young and exciting.” A mischievous smirk tugged at her lips. “And I’ll make him. He owes me for the rest of my life.”

Gale shook his head. “There is a wrinkle in your plan. You’d be alone.”

“My sweetling, I’ve been alone a long time. You have your whole life ahead of you” Gale opened his mouth to protest and the sharp dark gaze that instantly flashed in her eyes made him shut it again without her losing a beat “and my beloved Astarion is getting to start over. I can be alone a little longer. If you two are happy, then I will be happy.

“Besides. It’s not like we have done anything even close to what you two were doing. We haven’t even shared a kiss.”

Gale stared at their clasped hands. He thought about what Astarion said earlier.

“Would you like to?” he asked, squeezing her hand reflexively in his nervousness.

“I think that… I am just drunk enough to say yes, but not so drunk that I’ll be cursing myself in the morning.”

Eletha got to her knees and leaned forward, holding his face gently as she kept their other hands together. 

Gale let out a breath of excitement. 

Their eyes closed and their lips touched. 

The first kiss was hesitant, testing the unknown topography, finding the way to fit just right. A pleasurable heat rose to the surface of Eletha’s skin as she deepened the next kiss.

Gale’s heart fluttered while his stomach did flips. This felt so different from his interludes with Astarion. 

Those felt like a natural progression of a lanceboard game. They would have some heartfelt conversation that turned into an exchange of witty barbs and the only places to go from there were fighting or “fighting.”

That didn’t mean either was unpleasurable.

Actually. It was too pleasurable.

Eletha leaned back to catch her breath and make sure he was alright.

Luckily, this meant that she only got vomit on her chest and lap, not her face.

She was stunned as Gale pleaded for her forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, I don’t- I don’t understand-”

This time he managed to turn his head.

Rubbing his back soothingly, Eletha chuckled. “It’s okay. I know the feeling.”

If anyone noticed, they were kind enough to not talk about it the next morning. Eletha managed to clean herself up enough to help Gale back to his tent. There, she sat for a while, making sure he would recover.

“Words cannot express how foolish I feel,” Gale said weakly as she placed a cold damp towel on his forehead.

“It’s not the first time a wizard’s puked on me,” she answered, soothingly stroking his hair a few times before sitting back. It probably wouldn’t help to touch him too much right now.

“You must have a lot of interesting stories…”

“I promise to leave this one out of the ballad they’ll inevitably write about us.”

“It was enjoyable. Until the last bit.”

“I enjoyed it too,” Eletha said sweetly, a small smile on her lips.

A few minutes passed in silence. She was about to get up, assuming he’d fallen asleep, when Gale asked, “What was the first time?”

“So I was at this party in Suzail…”

Chapter Text

“You good?” Eletha asked Gale as they sat around the fire the next morning. “You don’t have to come if you’re not feeling so hot.”

“With you, I feel most hot,” Gale responded, unknowingly smirking as he expertly flipped their morning sausage. Then it occurred to him what he just said. “I mean- That is to say- I feel fine. Thank you. I think it would be prudent of me to accompany you.”

She gave him a little smile. “I appreciate it.”

“You look like hell,” Astarion said to Gale as he walked up, taking the seat next to him opposite Eletha.

“Not as bad as you,” Eletha spat back defensively. Gale merely shook his head, not dignifying the insult with a response.

Astarion crossed his arms and pouted. “Well, there’s nothing to eat out here. And you have been stingy with your neck.”

A look crossed her face that said she didn’t think about that. Her demeanor became apologetic. “Oh. Right. I have some time.”

In the privacy of his tent, Eletha took off her shirt and neatly set it aside. 

The wind was knocked out of her chest as Astarion’s body collided with hers and slammed her forward onto the hard ground. She opened her mouth to complain, only to grunt as Astarion’s fangs sank into her neck. He wrestled her a bit, like an animal dominating a rival or immobilizing its prey.

It wasn’t the pain that surprised her, but the ferocity with which he feasted on her. The sounds echoing in her ears weren’t his normal pleased sighs. When his teeth left her flesh, she half-expected them to come down somewhere else to rip her apart.

“Hells, I-” Astarion stammered, shaking with the realization of what he’d just done.

Eletha remained face-down, a soft sound escaping her lips as she tried to speak.

“Stop. Stop. Don’t talk,” he pleaded in a panicked whisper as he dug through his things for a potion. Potions he’d been stealing from her. Potions she’d let him take.

Astarion flipped her over, the sight of her blood tantalizing yet horrifying. The two large punctures on her neck were accompanied by two smaller ones where his lower canines had sunk in too, as well as indentations of his other teeth. 

Desperately, he pulled out the potion’s stopper with those same teeth and, holding her head up, he slowly tipped the contents into her mouth.

The bleeding stopped. The wounds started to knit back together. After a moment, her eyes fluttered open and she looked around, disoriented.

Holding her tightly to him, he cried into her hair, “I am so sorry.”

“Can’t breathe,” she mumbled into his shoulder. Quickly, he let go. Eletha rubbed the healing bite wound. “I’m fine. Just achy.”

“I… I don’t know what came over me…” Astarion tried to explain, distraught. “I couldn’t stop… I could have killed you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I nearly did.”

Eletha leaned forward.

Astarion licked the blood off his lips.

Smack! Her head met his in a swift strike.

“Let’s get out of this fucking place so it doesn’t happen again,” Eletha grumbled as she put on her shirt and Astarion rubbed the pain out of his forehead.

“You okay?” Shadowheart asked, clearly spying all the dried blood stuck to Eletha’s neck and chest.

“He always wasa messy eater.”

With Halsin’s little spirit friend taken care of and after Astarion’s slip of feral hunger, Eletha suggested that they split up to deal with things more quickly. The next morning, Eletha, Karlach, Gale, and Astarion would investigate Moonrise while the others tied up loose ends and investigated the Sharran Temple further for Shadowheart’s sake.

Eletha’s cold-hearted mask really helped them infiltrate the Absolute’s stronghold with little effort required.

After satisfying their curiosity and freeing the prisoners, Gale excused himself shortly after they arrived at Last Light Inn. While they made sure the Harpers would allow the freed prisoners to stay, he wanted to rush back to camp and make sure dinner would be ready for everyone. They would need their strength in the next few days if they were going to deal with Ketheric Thorm and the Absolute’s army.

“He’s been actin’ weird, yeah?” Karlach asked the others once he was out of earshot.

“Gale’s always been weird, no?” Astarion answered, hands on his hips.

“Mystra did tell him to find the heart of the Absolute and-” Eletha made a sound like a bomb detonating while making a hand gesture that simulated Gale’s magic orb exploding out of his chest.

“We’re not going to let him do that, right?” Karlach pleaded, her eyes big and wet, her hands clasped, her knees bent in supplication.

“Of course not. If we can help it.”

On the way back, Eletha and Astarion talked about the feelings the blood merchant dug up.

“If it makes you feel any better, refusing was pretty in-line with how you used to be,” she told him as he expressed a small amount of remorse for giving up power for just a moment of discomfort. “You’re much too precious to do such a thing.”

“Hm. I don’t always want to remember who I was. But I like the way you speak about it sometimes. Even when you’re angry with him, there is a fondness in your voice.” If only the sky was clear and there were stars in the sky. If only their surroundings weren’t so twisted and dreary. This would be a nice little walk together. “If I called you ‘Lori’, what did you call me?”

“Oh, silly things. Like ‘Princeling’ or ‘Your Highness.’” Astarion smiled to himself. “But you were always my ‘Star,’ even when we were small. It’s hard to say it angrily.”

“It’s odd, thinking you took care of me once.”

“Once? I took care of you for thirty years, now I’m taking care of you again. I used to pick you up and carry you across puddles. I had to be your sparring partner because I wouldn’t hit you too hard. After you complained about it.”

“I get the idea.” A moment passed in silence as they walked. “I don’t want to go back. To the Dales, I mean. Not unless it’s to slaughter the lot of them.”

Eletha let out a big sigh. “It’s fine if you want to go back. I don’t have to see them, just find them.”

“They tortured you. Stop making excuses for them,” he growled at her. “Imagine if I said ‘let’s leave Cazador alone, he wasn’t that bad.’ You’d think I lost my mind!”

“I just don’t want you to regret passing up the chance because of me.”

“Our families imprisoned you in your own body and none of the others did anything about it. Good riddance.” More gently he added, “You are the only family I need now.”

“And Gale?”

“What about him?” Her knowing gaze made him roll his eyes. “Fine. I suppose we can have a pet.”

“Speaking of … Where is Gale?” Eletha asked, noting that he wasn’t by the fire with the others.

“Maybe he’s in his tent. Crying.” He said it flippantly, but Astarion immediately made a beeline for Gale’s tent. Not hungry, Eletha followed.

“Good evening! I am here on behalf of Gale of Waterdeep. He wishes to extend you an invitation for a private conversation in a more suitable locale,” the projection outside the wizard’s tent told them genially.

“The hells is this?” Astarion asked Eletha, indicating the projection with a confused little sneer.

“You are speaking to a mere projection of Gale. His appearance, his voice, and a certain measure of his personality-” the projection did a little pose, crossing his body with one curled hand while raising up the elbow of the other, “reconstituted in this case to play as emissary and usher.

“Would you care to join him? What little I could glean from the portion of his mind that is open to me, it is a matter most urgent.”

“Both of us?” Eletha asked while Astarion held back giggles behind his hand.

“This message was meant for the both of you. I even have instructions for if only one of you was present,” the projection explained. “Simply follow yonder path and soon you will find him.”

“We shouldn’t keep him waiting,” Astarion told her with a cheeky little grin.

“Yes, Your Highness,” she answered with a good-natured shake of her head.

“I do like that. Could you do it some more?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

As they followed the glowing path, their surroundings changed into something much more pleasant.

“Someone fancies his illusions,” Eletha said quietly, admiring Gale’s handiwork. 

“I love this time of night,” Gale said wistfully as they approached, staring up at the sky. “There’s an almost reverent silence that accompanies the peak of darkness, when you’d almost believe the dawn will never break.

“The cradle of eternity. The timelessness of lovers. That most beautiful of fantasies.”

“Are you quite all right? Do you have a fever or something?” Astarion asked in annoyance, not really impressed with Gale’s undoubtedly carefully-chosen words. Eletha placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him before sitting down beside Gale.

“I will be, soon. I am perhaps just one hard day away from being without any troubles at all.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Astarion commanded, warning Gale with a stern finger and a furrowed brow.

“This may be my last night alive. I wanted it to be under a canopy of beauty and wonder…” Gale continued without dignifying Astarion’s threat with a response. His eyes, open and honest, regarded him and then Eletha in turn. “... And with company to match.”

“Stop talking like that!” Astarion’s voice had venom in it, but because they knew him so well, they could hear the emotional wobble in it. “Throwing your life away for Mystra is the daftest thing you’ve ever done. I won’t let you do it.”

Gale rose to his feet. “Death is assured. Mystra’s forgiveness is not.”

“Didn’t you hear her when Lae’zel was ready to die for a lie?” Astarion asked, waving a hand at Eletha, who stood again in case she needed to break the two apart. “Gods don’t care about us. Mystra threw you away, even before your little Karsite experiment. She should be asking for your forgiveness.”

“Astarion, leave him alone,” Eletha pleaded, touching him on the shoulder. He rolled it out of her touch and shot her a glare.

“Tell him. Tell him he shouldn’t do it!”

“I…” Eletha looked from Astarion to Gale, whose glower softened just a bit to meet her eyes. “I don’t want you to…”

“It wasn’t my intention to upset you,” Gale told them both quite earnestly, a self-chastising tone in his voice. Their reactions hurt. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

“Then what did you intend, Gale?” Astarion asked cattily, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“This is all so difficult to navigate… Harder than any game of chess…” Astarion stopped pouting and started nervously playing with his hands. His eyes went from angry to… scared. “If things were different, if we were home, I’d have taken the time to do things properly. And maybe I’d understand a little better what properly means, in this case…

“That is to say… I’ve grown very fond of you. Both of you. This has been so very complicated, but-”

Astarion grabbed Gale’s head and smashed their lips together. While they were in their heated kiss, Eletha tried to sneak away, a cheekily little smile on her face. Astarion’s hand shot out and grabbed her by the tip of her ear.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, Gale’s arms loosely wrapped around him.

“I really appreciate being a witness to your union, but maybe I don’t need to be here for the whole thing?”

“What part of both did you not understand?”

“No, I understood it.” Gale’s face fell and Eletha stammered, her cheeks turning red. “It’s just- I’m very fond of you too, sweetling, it’s just-”

“I understand,” Gale said, resigning himself to her answer. Astarion gave him an admonishing soft smack on the face.

“No,” he told him, like a master telling his dog to drop something disgusting. Then he turned to Eletha and jabbed a finger at her face. “No. We had this talk. You deserve this. Just say yes like you want to.”

“I…” Her eyes flicked between their faces and she had to look at her feet in embarrassment. “If this is going where I think it’s going…”

“A hedonistic pile of limbs, I’m hoping,” Astarion said devilishly, raising a leg coquettishly.

“Hush. Let her speak,” Gale admonished, sparing him a playful smirk. 

“It’s just that… The last time I crawled into bed with someone, I broke down crying in the middle and went on a three-month bender,” she eventually admitted. “You two should get to have fun. I’m fine. I promise.”

“If there’s any crying, we stop. At least, if that isn’t the game we’re playing. Right, darling?” Astarion looked to Gale, who was giving Eletha his sympathetic puppy eyes, and with a touch of his finger to his jaw, turned his face to him. 

“Of course,” Gale answered quizzically, as if the question was so ludicrous that the thought never entered his mind. Detaching himself from Astarion, Gale took Eletha’s hand in his and gazed deeply into her eyes. “I'm scared too. I don't really know how to do this. But I want to try. With you.”

How could she say no?

She could, of course. If she really wanted to, she could walk away. If it started to go poorly, she could stop.

“We deserve some fun,” Eletha said to herself as much as them. Gale leaned down and met her lips in a kiss, one hand supporting the small of her back. This time he was much more sure of himself.

Astarion huffed playfully. “Now, now, don't hog her all to yourself.”

“I'm afraid I got carried away,” Gale said with a blushing grin. “It's just as well. I wanted to change the illusion to something much more impressive.”

“Oh, Bhin, you don't need to impress us,” Eletha reassured him. Quietly Astarion disagreed with a little “yes he does.”

“We’re not gods.” Once more Astarion argued, muttering, “Speak for yourself.”

The way Gale looked at her made Eletha’s breath catch. Astarion just believed that finally, someone worshiped him the way he deserved. 

“I beg to differ.”

“So we’ve moved on to beggingnow? I can work with that.” Eletha glared at Astarion, willing him to shut up, but Gale only laughed.

“Maybe another time, when we’ve figured out how this works.”

“Don't encourage him,” she whispered.

“Just summon us a nice comfy bed.”

As Gale focused on setting the stage, Astarion sauntered up to Eletha with a thirsty smirk on his lips. Her heartbeat quickened as he started undoing her armor with expert dexterity. Needing something to do, she offered him the same help.

“Don't be shy,” he cooed, amused by her inability to look at him and the bright flush blooming on her cheeks.

“I'm not,” she insisted petulantly. He palmed the slight heft of her breast through her shirt. When she stepped away from his touch, he chuckled darkly. “You’re not a good liar.”

Annoyed with him, which wasn't new for her at all, Eletha approached Gale, who'd been watching them for a moment with keen interest. As if it was the most interesting thing she’d ever seen, she ran her hands over the sumptuous velvet of his shirt before trying to take it off. He laughed as their height difference became a problem and he had to remove it the rest of the way. 

“It's okay to be nervous. I’m nervous too,” Gale told her sweetly before leaning down for another kiss. 

Astarion came up behind her and placed kisses and playful bites on her shoulder and neck before pushing them both onto the bed. Eletha glared at him over her shoulder. “You're such a brat.”

As if to prove her point, he flicked her away so he could work on undoing Gale’s trousers. Gale rose up on his elbows and the two exchanged passionate kisses while Eletha removed the rest of her clothes by herself. 

Astarion moved from Gale’s lips to his neck, marking his way with kisses and nips while his hands combed through his chest hair, gently squeezing the plush swell of his pecs. Astarion traveled down the wizard’s torso, lavishing it with his mouth and fingers. 

Gale managed to come to his senses and held out a hand to Eletha, beckoning her onto the bed with a smile. “What are you doing over there by yourself?”

“Looked like you two were having fun, I didn’t want to interrupt.” Despite her protestations, she knelt on the edge of the bed within his reach. 

His fingers touched her skin softly, so softly she had to refrain from twitching away as it tickled. Tracing the scars that littered her body, he was enamored by her. In return, she ran her fingers all along his arm and through his hair, gazing into his eyes deeply.

A shocked little moan escaped his lips as Astarion stopped teasing him and finally wrapped his cold wet mouth around his cock. Under his tongue, he could feel a rush of blood make it that much harder.

Astarion had to find some way to not shut off, just like how Eletha had to find a way to not psyche herself out or Gale needed to figure out how to not treat them like Mystra. It would creep in from time to time, their little internal battles. 

Astarion pictured the look on Eletha’s face as she’d sucked the life out of him, how proud and interested she was in making him feel so good. So he focused on that. 

When Gale’s other hand tangled itself in his curls, he smirked around the hot throbbing cock in his mouth, knowing that he was doing a good job.

Of course, Astarion always took pride in his work. He was very good, after all. He readily boasted about it. But it would occur to him that he never really took pride in it as he was working. 

This was different. This was real. He wanted to do this over and over again, to learn exactly what drove them insane, how much he could tease before they had no choice but to cry out his name in ecstacy.

Red eyes flicked up to see if Gale was watching his performance, only to have Eletha’s ass take up most of the view as she straddled the wizard’s face.

“Come here,” he’d whispered without Astarion noticing, his voice husky with desire. A deft flick of his fingers summoned a mage hand that helped him guide her while his other hand was busy reassuring Astarion that he was appreciating his attention.

New to this sort of thing, even after all the years she’d lived, Eletha gingerly swung her leg over his body and knelt above him so she could see only his eyes when she looked down between her breasts and over the slight bump at the bottom of her stomach. 

As the mage hand caressed her neck, Gale placed his free hand on her thigh. It traveled up slowly, tracing the peak of her hip bone before rounding back to the curve of her backside. He gave it a few gentle squeezes while the mage hand came down over her breasts, mimicking the same motion.

Then he moved his hand so that he could lightly run a finger up the inside of her thigh, causing her to tremble. Delicately, he found the start of her slit and pressed his middle finger against it, not so insistent as to part it, but enough that he could feel her body react to his touch.

Gale’s mouth fell open in a soft moan and he could feel her shudder as his hot breath washed over her skin. His fingertip brushed up and down a few times. He watched as his mage hand ran trails down her stomach and when it paid special attention to her lower belly, she broke through the haze of pleasure his fingers were creating to smack the magical hand aside.

“Don’t be like that,” Astarion chided, his slicked hand giving Gale’s cock a few more languid strokes as he approached the head of the bed. “I think it’s delicious.”

Kneeling in front of her, he pulled her into a passionate kiss. Gale’s finger finally pressed into her folds and became slick as it tested how receptive she'd become from his light caresses. 

Eletha’s mouth opened with a surprised gasp and Astarion took this opportunity to slip in his tongue. The thought of mixing their spit and the taste of Gale’s cock sent a thrill up all their spines.

Eletha found balance by holding on to Astarion’s shoulder as her other hand trailed down his torso. He let out a soft little whimper of pleasure against her lips as her fingers wrapped around his half-hard cock.

Meanwhile, Gale slid his finger slowly in and out of her, pressing against different points to find the right spot to focus his attention. As a second finger joined the war effort, Eletha’s mouth pressed into a tight line against Astarion’s lips as she emitted a strained hum. He almost asked if she was okay when she rolled her hips down into the source of pleasure again. 

Using his nose to reveal her clit, Gale breathed in her scent with a satisfied groan before swiping the swollen bundle of nerves with his hot wet tongue. He knew that he was doing a good job as she tightened around his fingers and her juices filled his mouth. 

All the while, she stroked Astarion’s needy cock with one hand and clung to him with the other as his attention on her neck threatened to leave bruises. After a few minutes, Eletha had to lift herself up on shuddering thighs.

“Is he that good, my love?” Astarion asked her teasingly with a smug curl to his words, holding her up so Gale could slip out from underneath her. 

Eletha came back to her senses and pushed Astarion back to fall amongst the pillows that Gale had conjured. Eyes full of desire, voice hoarse from restraining her own pleasure, she said, “Why don't you try for yourself?”

“I would enjoy returning the favor.” Gale wiped his face clean with the back of his arm, gazing at Astarion with the same hungry longing that he offered Eletha.

“I wouldn't dream of saying no,” Astarion replied with a smirk, parting his knees as an invitation. 

Gale slid between his legs, crawling like a panther stalking its prey. Starting at the knee, he kissed and bit a trail up his inner thigh until he found his still-hard cock. 

Astarion’s spindly fingers wove into the gentle waves of Gale’s hair as his head bobbed up and down. Letting his own head fall back, giving his neck a chance to relax, he focused on the sensation of Gale’s masterful tongue swirling and flicking and swiping. 

His sensitive ears twitched at the guttural sounds of him throating his cock. Gale gasped for air and groaned hungrily as Eletha joined in the fun. 

Rolling his hips to be perpendicular to the bed, she enthusiastically lapped-up the mix of juices leaking from his cock. His tongue and fingers had pushed away her uncertainties and now she felt almost drunk. 

Every shift of her legs and every pulse of his cock in her mouth made her whine and shudder. Gale spared a hand to place on her head, play with her ears, while she clawed at his soft peachy ass.

Astarion lifted Gale’s head up with a gentle tug of his hair and the blissful look on the wizard’s face made his cock twitch with excitement. “You’re doing a marvelous job, beautiful, but I’d like to try something else.”

“Whatever you desire,” Gale responded in a husky voice.

Arranging them like furniture, Astarion set the next scene. 

Sitting up, Eletha was able to more easily swallow Gale’s cock. Kneeling in front of her, he had no choice but to cry out in a needy groan as he felt himself slide into her throat. His hands stroked her face, running along the line of her jaw, or holding the back of her head. Eventually, he was rolling his hips forward, very slightly at first and then picking up the pace, fucking her mouth.

Meanwhile, Astarion was between her legs, slipping two fingers into her greedy cunt without resistance while his tongue attacked her clit. He could feel her squeeze involuntarily as his lips sucked and his tongue lapped. 

When she spread her legs, giving him better access, he managed to add a third finger. Even in his position, even with the slutty sounds Gale was making, Astarion could hear Eletha moan. Gale’s legs shuddered as the sound undoubtedly sent pulses of pleasure up his cock, lodged in her throat.

Astarion was definitely excited, this was definitely fun, but he seemed to be the only one capable of a coherent thought at the moment. For now, this would have to be his show.

Ceasing his ministrations, he encouraged the two of them to decouple. “Sorry to ruin the mood, but this next bit is going to require some… consideration.”

“Y-yes… That is probably wise…” Gale agreed, trying to catch his breath. Eletha, collapsed into the pillows, only managed a weak nod.

“Being the god that I am, I could do this well into the morning. I am assuming you” he pointed to Gale with a finger after licking it clean “have some sort of magical stamina.”

“Oh yes. ” Gale smirked confidently. “I built up a well of endurance that allows me to climax multiple times, with only a short refractory period, allowing me to-”

“Yes, yes, we get it,” Astarion interrupted hastily, even though that was some tantalizing information… “That leaves us with the princess over there.”

Eletha managed to open her eyes. Slightly embarrassed, she said, “I’ve always been sort of… one-and-done.”

“You poor thing,” Astarion cooed sympathetically, offering her a cheeky pout. Pretending to give it some thought, he asked, “So, why don’t you two have a little moment, hm?”

“I’m surprised, I assumed that you would want to go first…” Gale said, not exactly arguing, but he had thought about this at some length.

“I’m actually being very selfish. If this goes sideways, I don’t want to be the one to start it,” he explained flippantly, adding in a little shrug.

Actually, he was a bit scared, but he wouldn’t admit that. Scared of what it might do to him, or to her, to be wrapped around each other again.

Gale chuckled softly in the back of his throat, a knowing half-cocked smile on his lips as he looked from Astarion to Eletha. With gentle but strong hands, he grabbed her by the waist and brought her down out of the pillows so Astarion could have a better view.

Kneeling between her legs, he kissed his way up her body. Finding her breasts with his mouth, he gave a nipple a few experimenting sucks and flicks of his tongue. Her rough hands wandered over his sides, his back, his arms. 

Gale took a moment to gaze into her eyes, shrinking the world to just the two of them. Eletha’s breath hitched. To be looked at in such a way…

As if understanding her thoughts, he lightly kissed her lips. She responded with more insistence. Gale lowered himself so that his impatient cock could rest against her wet cunt. With gentle rolls of his hips, he rubbed against her clit while they kissed sloppily, slicking his cock in the process.

Cock poised to enter her, he broke away to gaze down at her once more. Clearly, but sweetly, he told her, “I love you.”

This seemed to shock her a little. Gale was thankful he said it, made it obvious, and that her response was, “I love you, too.”

Locking their lips together, Gale finally slid into her, interlocking their bodies. His moan intermingled with her gasp as he felt her tighten and she felt the sudden fullness that his cock brought her. They stayed like that for a few heartbeats, kissing passionately as they gave themselves and each other a moment for their hearts to calm down.

Astarion watched with an equal mix of curiosity, hunger, and jealousy. The sickly-sweet way Gale made sure his partner was ready, the longing looks in their eyes, the honesty of their words… It was more than he ever could have imagined for himself. Would they do that for him, when it was his turn? Was he truly more than just a thing to be used?

On the other hand… Despite the fact that he’d insisted Gale go first, Astarion still felt a flare of anger to see someone else enjoy and please his former love. Eletha belonged to him.

His hand slipped down to his cock and started stroking it with a languid pace, ghosting over the shaft and tightening his grip as he passed over the head. Self-pleasuring had never been of interest to him, he was always too busy pleasing others to keep them distracted. But watching the two created a rare mood in him. Speeding up to keep time with Gale’s thrusts, he imagined how it would feel when it was his turn. Gale certainly seemed to be enjoying himself.

Gale lifted his head and sat back on his haunches as Astarion approached. The vampire took hold of his bearded face by the chin and smashed their lips together in a mess of open-mouthed kisses. He pulled away with a hungry smirk on his face before leaning down to playfully bite at Eletha’s pale breast, leaving a slight mark that claimed her. 

“Perhaps we should give our princess a little rest?” he suggested, giving her clit a little stroke that made both Gale and Eletha shudder, thus proving his point.

Eletha sat up on one elbow to bring her mouth around Astarion’s cock. While she eagerly licked and swallowed, her other hand worked Gale’s shaft, slick and thick from pounding her throbbing cunt. 

Kneeling on either side of her, Gale and Astarion battled for dominance with their mouths. Gale intertwined their fingers, reassuring him with light strokes of his thumb. Eletha switched between their cocks, one gripped in each hand.

The two broke away, Gale panting. He smirked. “I would offer you my neck, but I’m afraid the taste of my blood would sour the mood.”

“I appreciate the sentiment.” Leaning back, Astarion released Eletha from her duties. He swept back what little hair she managed to let grow and with a gentle smile that would have surprised him if he could see it, he asked, “Would you like to be lost in one another again, my love?”

When this all started, Eletha was worried that just being around them would bring her to tears. She felt reassured when nervousness was replaced with elation, lust and desire warming her whole body. But the ultimate test was always this moment, when the really old memories would replay themselves in real time.

Eletha looked up at Astarion and, at the sound of his loving words so honest and open, she could feel her chest tighten.

“I want to be lost with you,” she answered, forcing back the involuntary rise of fear.

With him. Him, not the young man she lost.

Gale graciously sat back to observe, admiring the way the two looked at each other. He couldn’t decide if it was the unsureness of new love or the deep connection of something old and true. Either way, it was enviable in its beauty and passion.

Astarion first buried his face in her neck, taking in the scent of her sweat mixed with Gale’s. Feeling her quickened pulse just below the skin, he wanted to bite into her, not only to drink, but to make them as whole as possible.

Eletha wove her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck and whispered against his ear, “I love you, my precious Star.”

Astarion’s voice wavered as he whispered back, “I love you too.”

With one smooth stroke, he entered her, eliciting a small gasp from her lips. Despite just accommodating someone of Gale’s size, she felt like a perfect fit.

He expected to employ his usual suave moves. Instead, he rutted and groaned, clawing and clutching at her, desperate to crawl inside her and die all over again. The effort of resisting the urge to either sob or go blank almost drove him crazy. It finally hit him that this wasn’t about Cazador or survival. This was a give-and-take, not just give.

It was a little too much and, after a few minutes of kissing and thrusting, he had to remove himself. 

When he leaned back, Gale was behind him, his strong arms grabbing his waist before snaking up to his chest, peppering his neck with bites and kisses all the while. 

A light chuckle brushed against Astarion’s ear before the wizard asked, “Might I make a suggestion?”

“Do tell,” Astarion answered sumptuously, slipping his protective sex-god mask on for just a little bit. Just long enough to come down from the emotional overcharge. 

Gale offered the instructions with his deep resonant voice, his cock pressed into the cleft of Astarion’s ass. 

Astarion laughed suggestively, spying Eletha out of the corner of his eye as he stroked Gale’s beard idly. “Do you think our little pet can handle any more?”

“Surely she has more strength than that?” Gale answered, sending her a smoldering smirk as his hands wandered over Astarion’s pale, lean body.

Eletha looked to the sky like a dying man resigning himself to his fate before closing her eyes. After offering up a silent prayer and strengthening her resolve, she said, “I am yours.”

“Oooh,” Astarion purred. “Our fearless leader at our mercy? What a treat.”

With Eletha kneeling on the bed, her hands on its edge, Gale stood in front of her while Astarion took position behind her. 

Taking hold of her slim backside, Astarion spread her glistening cunt with his thumbs. Placing his cock in the space he made, he bucked his hips, rubbing against her and slicking himself again at the same time.

At the side of the bed, Eletha opened her mouth to accept Gale’s cock once more. With gentle strokes, he pet her head and offered her his admiration with his wide smile. “You’re doing a marvelous job. You look so beautiful.”

Gale slid a hand over her back towards Astarion. After slipping into her once more and giving her a few good thrusts to establish a rhythm, he held her ass with one hand while the other met Gale’s, the tips of their fingers playing with each other. If they could have managed to lean toward one another without awkwardness, they would’ve interlocked their lips instead.

Saliva coated Gale’s cock so thickly that it dripped down his balls only to be lapped up by her tongue when she took him down to the base. Being wedged between them, Gale’s reassuring words in her ears, Astarion’s hand occasionally giving her ass a light smack of encouragement, her cunt was so wet that it squelched and gushed with every thrust.

An unrestrained moan rose up from Astarion’s chest and out his throat as he desperately increased his pace. A similar sound, with a little more bass, came from Gale.

Later, Eletha would be impressed at their timing, but in the moment, all she felt was the pulse of their cocks as Astarion filled her cunt and Gale her throat. Her breath came out in ragged gasps as they pulled out. 

“Stay there,” Gale bid her. Astarion sat to the side, panting, and watched as Gale took his place behind her. Sitting with his knees pressed into the bed, he spread her open and watched, nearly breathless, as Astarion’s cum started to drip out. 

Not letting a drop go to waste, he wrapped his lips around the entire mess, fucking her with his tongue to lap up the precious liquid. Eletha shuddered and mewed and tried to get away, but his strong hands on her backside kept them connected. 

When he could find no more of his prize, he let her go, and she collapsed onto her side.

“You’re not done yet, are you, sweetheart?” Astarion asked, pulling playfully on her ankle.

“I need a minute,” she answered, breathless, closing her eyes to keep the world from spinning.

“I suppose I can allow you to rest a moment,” he said with a roll of his eyes and a little scoff. More devilishly, he added, “But don’t think you’re getting out of here before the grand finale.”

“Don’t tease her so much,” Gale chided him with a smile and a tap on the nose.

Eletha had to vacate the bed as the two started to play-wrestle and curled up on a comfortable sofa that Gale had, at some point, thought it prudent to summon out of thin air. There she watched them fight and bicker, all in good fun, until Gale was on his stomach and Astarion’s face was pressed in between the wizard’s plump ass-cheeks.

Kneading them like dough, he worked his tongue around the quivering ring of nerves nestled there and occasionally gave the sensitive skin behind his balls a firm, wet swipe. It wasn’t long before Gale was whimpering, hiding his face in a pillow and rutting a little into the bed.

“P-please,” he begged pathetically, his toes curling to ease some of the tension coursing through his body.

“If you insist.” Astarion stuck a finger in his mouth to coat it with his spit when a jar poofed into existence next to him. 

He picked it up and unscrewed the lid to find a semi-liquid substance. It was odorless, tasteless, and had a consistency much like the juices he’d just wiped off his cock. No matter how much he rubbed it between his finger and thumb, this lubricant kept its slick nature instead of becoming tacky and irritating. 

“Wizards. What else are they hiding?”

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” Gale called out in annoyance, wiggling his ass insistently, rubbing his impatient cock against the bed.. 

He was so fun when he was annoying. Probably how Eletha looked at him for all those years.

Astarion coated his fingers in the magical stuff and carefully pressed one into Gale’s needy hole. He watched as the wizard shuddered from his touch and his cock pulsed with a sudden orgasm. Gale was so lost in bliss that he didn’t care that he was rutting around in his own cum. Groaning with wild abandon, working on instinct, he came again as Astarion worked a second finger into his ass.

“What a delightful magic trick. Come for me some more, my sweet. You make such lovely sounds,” Astarion commanded sweetly, excited by Gale’s pliance under his touch. The poor man’s cock pumped out two more loads before he decided that he was ready for his turn.

While Astarion readied himself, Gale broke through the haze and reached out a bidding hand to Eletha. Astarion had assumed she was comatose on the sofa, exhausted from being worked by their tireless bodies. But she attentively got to her feet and approached the bed. 

Gently, Gale took hold of her wrist and tugged her forward. With a little guidance, and a magic word to clean up the mess he’d made, Gale had her lie underneath him in such a way that he could easily kiss her.

“I missed you,” he told her with a fond smile, his voice husky and deep.

“How could you miss me with everything going on over here?” Eletha asked, chuckling softly, shy from his little touches. Even Astarion getting her feet out of the way felt intimate. Gale lingered over her, like a brave protector shielding her from harm with his body.

“I’m quite capable of thinking of you both.”

Gale’s head snapped back with an animalistic growl of pleasure as Astarion’s cock finally slid into him. Even the rocking of their bodies from the vampire’s precise thrusts sent shivers of excitement up Eletha’s body.

Gale’s mouth attacked every part of her he could reach as if it might be the only thing standing between him and death. As he panted in ecstasy over her body, his saliva dripped down onto her face and into her awaiting mouth. 

She could feel his hot cum coat her stomach and before it could cool, Gale guided her hand to collect it on her fingers and then brought the hand to his mouth so he could clean it with his tongue. Eletha could feel her cunt throb at the sight and he didn’t need to ask her again to feed him his own cum.

Astarion grabbed Gale by his hair and pulled him back a little. Then he held him by the throat and pulled him back further, until Astarion could press his forehead into the wizard’s sweat-slicked back. Feeling his own intense climax approach, he took hold of Gale’s cock and stroked it in time to his thrusts. 

Gale placed a gentle hand on his forearm and the simple intimate touch drove Astarion over the edge. He groaned like a feral animal as he filled Gale’s ass with his cum. With an orgasm much more powerful than the last few, Gale released his own on Eletha’s stomach. Thick strings of hot white cum even made it as far as her breasts and throat. As soon as Astarion released him from his grip and cock, Gale got on his hands and knees once more to lick her skin clean. Cum-drunk, he collapsed on top of her, covering her with his sweaty bulk.

Astarion wanted to say something witty, but he was still coming down from a high he didn’t know he was capable of achieving. And after watching Gale work, he had to come to terms with the fact that maybe he did have some things to learn…

“I want you to ride me,” Gale told Eletha when he could manage the words. His hand slipped down between her legs and ran over her swollen clit before sinking into her sloppy cunt. In her ear, he explained the fantasy he’d been playing out in his head for a while now. “Use me. I want to see how beautiful you are when you come on my cock.”

She had to come up with an answer, but she was too distracted to come up with something a little sexier than just, “Okay.”

That was enough for Gale and with one deft movement, he swapped their positions. He teased her with the head of his cock, gathering her juices as he ran it through her slit, rubbing her clit, just barely pressing it into her waiting entrance. 

Feeling left out, Astarion knelt behind her. Having cleaned himself off, he pressed his chest against her back, his dexterous hands wandering her body. Her pulse thrummed like a war drum under the skin of her neck, calling out to him. With his nose behind her ear, he whispered, “May I taste you? Please?”

Eletha managed a hum and a nod, trying to fight back her orgasm just a little longer. Much more gently, more sensually, Astarion pierced the delicate flesh of her neck and let her blood flow into his mouth. Its vitalic zest washed over his tongue and he moaned in the back of his throat, making Eletha shudder. 

Finally lowering herself onto Gale’s eager cock, she whined as it spread her open. Appreciably thicker from his heightened excitement, it stretched her cunt even further than before. Ignoring his own instructions for just a moment, Gale thrust up into her, eliciting a cry of pleasure.

As she started fucking herself, bouncing on Gale’s lap and rolling her hips, Astarion settled one hand on her hip and the other over her clit. Once he understood her rhythm, he slipped his fingers to either side of the bundle of nerves, pressing it between them, and started stroking, fingers curling and straightening in time with her thrusts.

Eletha flung her head back, making beautiful music as her cunt squeezed Gale’s cock so hard that he was briefly concerned that she might actually do some damage. He groaned in abject pleasure anyway. 

After all the teasing, cock-sucking, and thrusting, she couldn’t last long. Astarion’s voice in her ear didn’t help one bit.

“Show us how much you love us. Come for us, my love,” he commanded her sweetly, eyeing Gale from over her shoulder.

Astarion’s hand slipped from her clit as she pitched forward. Hands clutching Gale’s strong shoulders, Eletha ground her hips into his with all her strength, rubbing her throbbing clit against him while his cock stroked a very sensitive spot inside her. Gale forced himself to keep his eyes open so he could watch her face as she climaxed and he filled her cunt with a seemingly endless supply of cum. There was so much of it that it gushed out with his thrusts, even with how closely they were joined.

On shaky legs, she let him slip out and rolled to the side, collapsing on her back, covered in sweat, unable to control her breathing. As Gale found her hand with his own, Astarion decided to take this opportunity to move between her legs. With a hungry look and a lick of his lips, he purred, “My, what a mess we’ve made of you, my sweet.”

Without further ado, he swiped his tongue through her cunt, catching the cum dripping out. She shuddered and whimpered as he feasted on the delicious stuff, fucking her with his skilled tongue in the process. With one last twitch, she pleaded, “I can’t take it anymore.”

“You did wonderfully,” Gale reassured her as Astarion honored her request and moved on to licking Gale’s cock clean. The wizard pressed a kiss to the back of her hand before sitting up. Running a dry hand through the vampire’s curls, he chided playfully, “Haven’t had enough, hm?”

“That looked fun. I want my turn,” Astarion replied, lips curled into a smirk as Gale’s cock managed to come to life in his lubricated hand once more.

Without any arguments, Astarion sat in Gale’s lap, draping his arms over each shoulder as he started a battle of lips and tongues. Feeling ready, Astarion lowered himself onto Gale’s slick cock and felt his own twitch as he moaned against the other’s mouth.

Gale wrapped one arm around Astarion’s waist and snaked the other up his back to hold on to his shoulder, helping set the pace. His ego set aside, Astarion buried his face in Gale’s shoulder as his hips bucked and rolled, finding the perfect stroke to hit just the right places.

“That’s right,” Gale whispered in his ear, so calm and collected for someone who just came so hard that, if Mystra hadn’t stabilized the magic bomb in his chest, they and everything within several miles would’ve been turned to dust. “That’s a good boy. You’re doing so well.”

“Mmm, Gale,” he whimpered, biting off the urge to tell him to shut up. His words of encouragement actually made him feel even better, despite thinking it would distract him. 

Mewling, he bounced on Gale’s cock harder, desperate for a final release. Tears slipped from his eyes as he cried out, clutching Gale for dear life as he painted his lover’s torso with cum. Gale grunted softly as he spent his final orgasm in the fluttering comfort of the vampire’s insides.

“Oh no,” Gale breathed in shock, suddenly aware that Astarion was trying to not outright weep. Then he noticed Eletha clutching a pillow over her face to muffle the sounds she was making. Gale made gentle shushing noises as he started to take charge of the situation. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re alright.”

With a flick of his hand and a few practiced words, everything and everyone was made clean and fresh. Lying between them on his back, Gale gathered Astarion to one side and Eletha to the other, cradling their heads in the dip between his shoulder and chest. A warm, soft blanket materialized and floated down, covering them with a reassuring weight.

“I’m sorry,” Eletha managed to say eventually. “I got overwhelmed.”

“You needn’t worry about that,” Gale told her gently, placing a kiss on top of her head. Astarion said nothing, but he could feel his cold hand rest on Eletha’s arm, both of them lying across Gale’s stomach. “What matters is that we all enjoyed ourselves.”

In response, the two of them nuzzled his chest.

That was good, because if either of them had expressed regret, it would be Gale’s turn to break down into tears. For now, smothered in their collective embrace, he could rest easy.

After a few minutes, Eletha’s stomach growled. It was honestly monstrous in its tone and intensity.

She flushed and buried her face in Gale’s armpit.

“You forgot to eat, didn’t you?” Gale asked with a chuckle, amused but a little annoyed, but only because he didn’t like it when people neglected their basic needs.

“How could I?” Eletha argued, removing herself from the pile of limbs so she could find her clothes. “With your cute little mirror image telling me you had something urgentto talk about.”

“I suppose I should have added an instruction to advise you to at least have a snack…” Gale scratched his beard, mulling the oversight.

Gale tried to sit up, only to be pressed back into the bed. Astarion put more of his body on top of Gale’s, trapping him. “Just a little longer.”

“If that’s what you want,” Gale answered, letting the tension out of his body. 

Eletha got dressed and gave them both a kiss before rushing off back towards camp. 

No one was around when she got there, so she settled by the fire and served herself. Ravenous, she took a few quick bites before slowing down to appreciate Gale’s good work.

“We were a little worried about you,” Halsin remarked with a smile as he approached. Eletha blushed and looked away, embarrassed. “I could not help but hear some of your more unrestrained sounds.”

“Corellon strike me dead, I don’t know if I can face the others if they heard. It’s one thing if they think they know what was going on…” She stuffed some of the stew in her mouth and regretted it as her sore throat had trouble swallowing it down.

“You were gone for quite a while, but you have returned alone…”

“I was starving.” Her voice was hoarse and she chuckled, which didn’t help. “I’m afraid of what tomorrow brings. I might not be able to walk.”

Halsin beamed, one of his genial laughs making her stomach flip. “Satisfaction suits you. You are practically glowing.”

“Satisfied? I suppose I am.”

“It is okay to admit that you are not, if that is the case.”

“It’s just… a lot. And I have a lot of questions. Like, will that ever happen again? How often can it happen without it killing me?” Halsin placed a hand on her shoulder and muttered some healing words. She sighed in relief.

“I can imagine that it’s a difficult situation, given your past and future. I regret to say that I do not have any good advice. My fancies have always been… fleeting.”

“It’s kind of you to try. I’m sure we’ll figure it out, if we don’t die in some spectacular fashion…”

“Oak Father preserve us.” Adding to his prayer, he said teasingly, “Including your poor insides.”

“Yeah. I think we might have to give ourselves tomorrow off.” 

She glanced up at the sky, considering its impenetrable darkness. 

“Besides, I’m feeling a little… hot under the collar, so to speak.”

Chapter Text

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.”

Chapter Text

Through Tyrlumin, Eletha set a time and place to meet with her old swordmaster. Heilar would make some excuse to leave his charge behind. This meeting was meant to clear the air, reassess, and convince them to leave. It would be counterproductive to add in the chaos of a family reunion.

Gale was trying to be the supportive partner. This came in the form of asking her about every 15 minutes if she was okay. Eletha bit down the urge to tell him no, or that he was starting to be the thing making her not okay. He was only doing what he could and she appreciated that.

She also had the feeling that the concept of this meeting was difficult for him, despite the fact that he had almost nothing to do with the situation. 

Arms crossed, Astarion watched the two as they got ready to head out. 

“Why wasn’t I invited?” he asked testily, a pout on his face.

“Three-on-one is a little intimidating, don’t you think?” Eletha answered flippantly.

The real answer was that he didn’t seem to care. Or he only cared when it made Eletha a mess and everyone started giving him pointed looks.

He was mad he wasn’t at least asked or consulted. He was frustrated that a bunch of stuff that technically involved him was going on and it was perfectly reasonable to not drag him into it because he couldn’t remember.

Astarion wished he’d never found out, but never finding out and being a part of Eletha’s life were two mutually exclusive things. It gnawed at him when he wasn’t thinking about Cazador or the tadpole or the ever-present sense of doom. But it didn’t gnaw at him because he wanted to be a part of this kid’s life. 

Knowing, having a choice, being there for her, was just another thing Cazador took from him.

Also… he had to face the possibility that the person he was before was the kind of man who heard his lover’s pleas for help and did nothing.

“Astarion,” Gale started placatingly, placing a hand on the man’s arm. When Astarion uncrossed his arms, Gale took hold of his hands. They were always so warm and comforting, with just the right amount of callous. “Perhaps it would be best that we untangle some of this narrative before we complicate it further.”

“What is there to complicate? I didn’t know any of these people existed until a few months ago.”

“Maybe ‘distract’ was a more accurate word…”

“If you want to come, then come,” Eletha said before the two could argue further. “But decide quick, we’re gonna be late.”

Meeting in a tavern wasn’t exactly a guarantee that they wouldn’t make public spectacles of themselves, but it was the most obvious choice. If it went poorly, there was booze readily available. Unfortunately, probably Flaming Fists as well.

Heilar Moonstone looked up from a mug of ale he’d clearly bought just to be polite. 

He watched as Eletha approached the bar and ordered her own drink. The man next to her made an order too fussy for the bartender; the man behind the counter scowled and slammed a second mug of beer down in front of him. The first man accepted it graciously as if it was what he ordered.

The third figure, its head obscured by a cowl and mask, ordered nothing.

Despite his serious demeanor, Heilar’s face lit up as Eletha and her friends approached.

In a silent argument, Eletha fussed with the masked one until she shoved him into the booth. Then she came in after him, pinching him between the wall and her body to make room for the first man on the same bench.

“You look… good. Almost the same,” Heilar said to her first. His eyes lingered on her short hair, golden eye, and the many scars littering her face and neck.

Eletha’s face lost some of its stoniness, allowing some humor into her voice.

“You look like an old man.”

Heilar chuckled. It seemed like the first time he’d felt something positive in a long time.

“We’ll see how good you look in 400 years.” He looked at one of her bookends and then the other before asking, “Who are your friends?”

“Pardon the lapse in manners. I am Gale, of Waterdeep.”

“An Akh’Faern I presume?”

“Technically speaking, Arfaern,” Gale corrected in a tone that was meant to be helpful and informative, but came off as bragging and condescending.

Eletha elbowed him. 

“I came to talk to you, Lorelai, not fight,” Heilar impressed upon her, sorrow in his voice. 

“Gale is here because he’s special to me,” she clarified, making sure to put a bit of warmth in it. Gale’s heart did a happy little flutter. While everyone knew about them, they’d never really qualified it so officially. “And my name is Eletha Nightstar now.”

“Of course,” Heilar said apologetically. His eyes drifted over to the figure wedged in the corner of the booth.

“We’ll get to that,” Eletha told him before he could ask. “I think you should answer my questions first. Like why you’re here and not in the Dales.”

Heilar took a deep breath before finally taking a large swallow of his drink.

“We came looking for Astarion. A difficult task, considering how long it’s been and how large this city is. But Baldur’s Gate was our only clue. So we came. We’ve been here a few months, before all the chaos started.”

“Only him?” Gale asked, more curious than accusatory. He could hear the question bouncing around in Eletha’s head, in the way she played with the handle of her mug. But she wouldn’t ask, because it was conceited.

“At first, we thought Lor- Eletha, had come to join him. Then we started traveling, and people would stop us. They’d ask, ‘Do you know a woman named Eletha?’ It took us a few towns to realize who ‘Eletha Nightstar’ was and why they kept stopping us.

“So we assumed you never went to Baldur’s Gate, because there were stories ranging from anywhere between when you left and half a year ago. It made sense to start with Astarion, since you could have been anywhere.

“Shortly after we got here, however, it seemed other people were looking for someone of a similar description and I worried that we went through all that trouble for nothing. But Quynn-”

Eletha snorted. Incredulously, she asked, “Seriously? He picked that?”

Heilar looked at her like she’d grown a second head. “You suddenly have an opinion?”

“It’s an awful name.” She repeated it a few time in different obnoxious tones, as if to prove her point.

“Yes, well, he picked it. Just like you picked yours and I picked mine.”

“Alright, alright.”

“Quynn found Astarion’s headstone. Dead not long after he left. But we kept hearing about people looking for someone who looked like him and, interestingly, shared his name… So Quynn wanted to stay.” Heilar stared at Eletha for her reaction. “That doesn’t seem to surprise you much.”

“It’s still your turn,” she answered harshly, obviously on edge. Gale put a hand on her forearm.

“There’s nothing much more to say. We ran into your friend, the drow, a few times. Said he knew someone who fit the description. Then, out of the blue, he told me you wanted to talk.”

“Why now? After all this time?” she asked.

Heilar hung his head a little.

“Your parents claimed him as their own. Astarion’s fought them on it, demanding they replace a son with a son. The lie kept unraveling in little pieces.

“He got older, and started looking more like his father. He knew all about Astarion, but it was mostly lies as well. That he was a monster hunter, or this and that, any excuse for why he wasn’t around. Astarion went from clan favorite to cousin to brother. 

“Eventually Quynn asked too much about him and the cracks started to show. He figured out that his parents were his grandparents. They maintained that you were both dead for quite some time, so he’d stop trying to find you.

“He’d heard all about Astarion all his life. Wanted to live up to their opinion of him. Wanted to follow in his supposed footsteps. So he started asking about you. Well, whoever his mother was. They kept saying she was no one important. They made up a whole family that was gone. They tried to make it like you never existed.

“He found out they were lying about all that too. There was some… note, hidden in their caravan. From Astarion to you, when you were young. You were probably teaching him to write.

“You became his ‘evil big sister’ that they cast out. That you drove away his father. That you cursed him to never come back. But by then, Quynn didn’t trust them.

“So I told him the truth.”

“What is the ‘truth’ to you?” Eletha asked, trying to sound collected, but there was the slightest wobble.

“Against all odds, Astarion and you made a child, and he was that child. That Astarion left without knowing. That your parents twisted your mind up in knots to keep you from going after him. That you tried to get rid of him, because having him was tearing you apart.

“A feeling I once understood all too well. One I never blamed you for.” 

Heilar held her gaze. 

“I never got to tell you how sorry I was that I couldn’t help you. I have faced many monsters in my life, but… That was the most evil thing I have witnessed. Quynn is here, and I wouldn’t change that, because he’s such a fine young man, but-”

“Just continue,” she said hollowly.

Heilar swallowed some ale to both steel his nerves and wet his throat.

“I explained what the clan did. And that as soon as Sarya had her own babe soon after, they let you go. 

“It hurt him, how could it not? But he always seemed angrier at his grandparents for lying to him than at you for leaving.

“He asked why Astarion never came back, why they had all these lies about where he was. But I couldn’t answer, because your family kept me from you and the goings on. They knew I would have done something. 

“I tried writing, sending, but I can only assume your parents got to him first before I knew what was happening and Astarion wanted nothing to do with us after.

“But I told him everything I knew about you both. I made sure he knew that his mother wasn’t the monster they claimed you to be. That his father wasn’t the god-like figure that he felt he must live up to. He even cut his hair in defiance, to punish them for putting all of that on him. To be beautiful and perfect.

“So they made me leave. But he left too, and found me, and begged me to travel with him as he searched. So here we are.

“And now it’s your turn.”

Eletha explained in enough detail what had been happening to get the idea across. She became an adventurer. Made friends. Had to learn who she was without Astarion to take care of. How to stop retreating into herself. Relapsing into old habits that her parents instilled in her.

Never heard from Astarion. Never went to Baldur’s Gate. She was afraid of learning that he never loved her, used her, and didn’t care what had happened to her.

After laying out the whole deal with the Elder Brain, Eletha told him firmly, “You have to leave this place.”

“But what do I tell Quynn?” Harrowed, Heilar explained, “I can’t lie to him. I’m the only person he trusts now.”

“Then tell him the truth. It doesn’t matter, you can’t stay here. The whole city is a powder keg.” 

“I can’t believe Astarion is really dead…” Heilar said sadly to himself, the important part of her plea not really sinking in.

Gale cleared his throat. 

Offhandedly, Eletha remarked, “I mean. He’s not not dead.”

Heilar looked up at her in confusion.

The man to her left gave him an awkward little wave.

Heilar’s mouth dropped open in shock. “You’ve just been sitting there in silence this whole time?”

“To be fair, I wouldn’t recognize my own parents if they walked through the door. I just wanted to hear this story firsthand.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Astarion has been here in Baldur’s Gate since, well, forever. Until a couple months ago. Then we met. After falling out of the same nautiloid.”

“It’s all rather tedious,” Astarion sighed behind his mask.

“Did you want me to believe you were dead?”

“This is for my protection. My face is… known around this place. It’s best if I remain unnoticed.”

Heilar started rubbing his temples. A familiar feeling washed over him. “I don’t want to know, do I?”

“Even if you did, we don’t exactly have time to spare,” Eletha explained, knocking back her room-temp beer in one long quaff. Putting the mug down emphatically, she added, “The sky is falling, and we’re the only ones who can stop it.”

“That was a bit dramatic, did you practice?” Astarion asked with a cock of his head. 

“I’m not you. Anyway-” Eletha paused as she fished something out of a pocket. She slid a thin piece of metal, about the size of a playing card, across the table towards her old mentor. “These are my friends. They can help you and Quynn get out. You already know Lumin.”

Heilar picked the card up and felt along its edges and embossed lettering as his thoughts turned over in his head.

“Heilar. I know this is a lot to ask of you,” Eletha started almost sadly. Under the table, Gale squeezed her leg in support. “But please make sure he doesn’t die some foolish death in this city.”

Someone who knew her less might ask questions like, ‘don’t you want to meet your son?’ or ‘do you have a message for him?’ They might make foolish statements about how deep down, this was a sign of her mother’s love or that she made a huge mistake.

But Heilar was the one that took the knife from her hand before it could slice open her flesh. He was the one who found her, blood pouring out of her mouth, trying to bite through her own tongue. 

No matter how much he reassured her that, if she could just wait a little longer, he could take her to someone who could help, she still howled and raged against what was happening to her.

“I will protect him with my life.”

“I expected a lot more yelling and bloodshed,” Astarion remarked as the three left to rejoin the others. 

“Sorry to disappoint,” Eletha retorted dryly, but Astarion laughed anyway because he understood better when she was trying to be funny. 

In actual seriousness, she explained, “Heilar was more my father than my actual father. I always thought that maybe he was. For a while, it seemed like a good explanation for why my parents treated me like a shoe without a mate.”

“For a man supposedly spending everyday turning this city inside out to find me, he didn’t seem very keen on talking to me.”

“He’s sharp, I think he got the idea that talking to you was pointless. He got what he needed: we’re alive, we want nothing to do with Quynn, and they need to get out of this place fast. Can’t be wasting time talking to a brick wall. Besides, if he wants to, he can contact us again when it’s safe.”

Astarion looked over at Gale, who’d chosen to walk behind them. “You alright back there? You look like how your blood tastes.”

“I do not particularly want to talk about it right now,” Gale answered rather sternly.

Astarion started to pester him, but Eletha whacked him with the back of her hand.

“Leave ‘m alone.”

Later, while everyone was eating, including Astarion who had been invited on a ‘hunt’ by Mellia, Eletha found where Gale was hiding.

It was only the room he shared with Astarion, but still.

“Can I come in?” she asked, standing outside the threshold, a large mug in her hands.

“Are you a vampire now as well?” Gale answered a little distractedly, flipping through the tome in his lap without looking up.

“Okay. Good night, I love you,” Eletha responded sincerely before turning around to go back downstairs.

“Where are you going?” he called out in confusion, and a bit of annoyance, as he gently closed his book and sat up.

She twisted at the waist to look back at him. “It sounded like you wanted to be alone.”

“Yes- no-” Gale huffed, frustrated with the human language. “Come in.”

Eletha did as he bade, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her so no one could get too nosy.

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I wanted to check on you, because you were upset.”

Gale shifted in his bed. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Of course.”

Silence took over for a while, broken only by Eletha blowing on her tea and subsequently trying to drink it.

“Despite knowing why,” Gale started, his voice sad and his gaze far away, “I still don’t understand how.”

Eletha waited for him to expound upon this. When he didn’t, she told him, “I’m sorry, Gale.”

“What for?”

“For what is upsetting you.”

“I am clearly upsetting you in return. I will clear my head, I promise,” he insisted, his voice and demeanor becoming frantic and worried. He was shoving aside his feelings in order to keep her happy and it made her angry instead.

“Gale, it’s okay to be upset.”

More silence passed with Gale unable to look at her.

“Mellia says I think things are about me when they’re not,” Eletha said eventually, breaking the silence with what was probably supposed to be an inside thought. “And that I’m quick to run away.”

Hearing something in her words that she didn’t intend, Gale’s big brown eyes pleaded with her.

“I’m sorry your father abandoned you, and I’m sorry that I’ve reminded you of that.”

Gale opened his mouth to protest, but Eletha raised her hand in a silencing gesture.

“You only talk about your mom, who you really love and need to keep happy, and you’ve been off ever since that meeting. I can put two-and-two together.”

Gale went from ashamed to a little defensive. “I didn’t need him.”

“I know. You can be angry about what you missed out on, even if you’re still happy without it.”

Silence.

“That poor boy,” Gale said softly to himself, as if she wasn’t there.

This conversation was easier when it wasn’t outright said. Now it felt more personal.

Eletha took a deep breath in through her nose and held it for a few seconds. As if noticing her for the first time, Gale looked up at her with wide eyes. “What is wrong?”

“Mellia says I get mad too much.”

“I’m sorry-”

“No! Stop!” Eletha commanded a little too forcefully. Covering her face with one hand, she took a few more regulated breaths before drinking the rest of her tea and putting the mug down. Gale found a coaster and immediately put it under the mug as if he couldn’t help himself.

“Gale, you’re enough,” she told him deliberately, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. “Quynn is enough. It was people like me who weren’t enough. It’s not your fault that we left. We failed you.”

“I know- Eletha,” he breathed in shock, interrupting himself, “Don’t say that.”

Forcefully, she said, “It’s true.”

“I’m sorry I upset you-”

“Stop apologizing!” Eletha took a deep breath and, without exhaling, repeated like a mantra, “I’m not mad at you. I’m not mad at you.”

Gale took her hands in his. “I never wanted to imply that you are a failure.”

“I just came here to tell you I’m sorry and to make you feel better,” she insisted, strained. Gale squeezed her hands.

“You’re not a failure. You’re a great inspiring-”

“You ever notice?” she interrupted, the humor in her voice sounding more hostile than jovial. “Mel, Win, Lu? They don’t look up to me. You and the gang? You don’t look up to me like those kids. You know the difference? They don’t know about Quynn. Fuck, most of them don’t even know about Star or my fucked-up family. They just see me as some badass adventurer who occasionally has to take time off.”

“That doesn’t make you any less inspiring.”

Eletha took him into her arms and squeezed Gale tight. Trying to redirect the conversation back to where she originally aimed it, she told him sweetly, “I love you. I’m here for you. You can be sad, and angry, and frustrated.”

Gale buried his face in her shoulder and started to cry.

“It’s going to be okay,” Eletha whispered as she stroked his hair.

Later, on the roof, a bat landed next to Eletha as she sipped her drink.

With a poof, Mellia appeared.

“Your little star is quite fun, if I do say so myself,” she commented, picking up the wine bottle and putting it to her lips.

“Oh, good, someone else can entertain you now.”

Mellia gave her a knowing smirk. “Lovely, the kind of entertainment you provide is off-limits now.”

“Probably not for long,” Eletha said dismissively.

“Why? What happened?”

Silence.

Eletha looked up at the sky.

“I don’t want to make it about myself.”

“Hm. Where have I heard that before?” Mellia said wryly before taking a sip of wine. She elbowed her friend, an indication that she should speak anyway.

“Why do people insist you deserve happiness when they so clearly think you should be drawn and quartered?”

“Mmm. I know the feeling.”

“How am I supposed to stop punishing myself when the person I love and who loves me sees me as the ghost of someone that hurt them irreparably?”

“That’s a good question.”

Silence.

“I saw your boy,” Mellia said thoughtfully. “I kept an eye on him sometimes. He's handsome. Comes from good stock. Well… half of it is good.”

Eletha snorted.

“What? You don't think Astarion is beautiful?”

Wistfully, Eletha answered, “Astarion will be beautiful forever.”

“Probably what his master was thinking.” Mellia sighed dramatically.

Silence.

“If you had a Wish, what would you wish for?” Eletha asked.

“Easy. To never be hungry again. It’s quite the inconvenience.”

Silence.

“I feel like I’m supposed to ask you the same question, but I have a feeling I won’t like the answer.”

“No, probably not.”

Silence.

“What would you wish for?”

Silence.

“That I never existed.”

“But without you, Astarion would be a selfish little terror.”

“Yeah, but he’d never meet Cazador.”

“Who would lead your little band of heroes?”

“They don’t need me.”

“I’ve never met someone who hates life so much and yet refuses to die.”

Silence.

“Who would be my friend?”

Silence.

“Ellie?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“That, somehow, I made you love me. I made a bunch of people care about me and for what? So they can cry when I’m gone?”

“Ellie, stop.”

“I don’t know how. I don’t know what people want from me. Turn back time? Be someone else? Someone my parents could love? Who wouldn’t be abandoned by the one person they loved? Could do the one thing people have been doing since the dawn of time? Not be a-”

“Don’t.”

“-failure?”

Silence.

“Sarya once told me, that parents have this special feeling when their children are sick or hurt. That they wish to take their child’s place, just so they don’t have to hurt, because they hate to watch them suffer.

“That was the one thing I understood. I felt that way about Astarion. He was so small and helpless and I was so afraid that he’d end up hurting like I did. He’d get sick or hurt and I was ready to do anything to make it stop. 

“I still wish I could. For him. For all these people who get pulled into my wake. For Quynn. Just take all that pain away from them. 

“I deserve it. At least then I’d have a good reason to feel this way, instead of just being a selfish cunt.”

Silence.

Mellia finished off the wine. “You should get some rest. We have a big day coming up.”

“Yeah. Looking forward to it.”

By then, everyone was asleep in their own beds. On her way to hers, Eletha stopped by the door to the room Astarion and Gale shared.

Peeking inside, she saw the two cuddled up in one bed.

‘Yeah,’ she thought to herself, ‘they’ll be fine.’

The next day, Eletha told the group to go out without her, that she had other things to deal with.

Surprisingly, it was Astarion that was worried about it, but Gale put a hand on his shoulder and led him away.

When they came back, the sun was setting.

Eletha’s friends, Tyrlumin, Bromthrum, and Aluin, were loitering around the back of the Elfsong, near the stairs. Quietly, but with excitement, they talked in a huddle amongst themselves.

“Where are you lot going looking like that?” Astarion asked with an admiring smile, looking over them.

The three gentlemen were indeed very well dressed, even according to modern fashions.

Well, Aluin, being a mage, didn’t count. But he did look quite fetching. 

But still, they were carefully groomed, their clothes were wrinkle-free and fresh-smelling, and they employed just enough ornamentation to appear wealthy but not gaudy.

“A party,” Lumin answered with a self-satisfied smirk in the elf’s direction. 

“What, in the Upper City?” Wyll asked in his charming way, laughing as if it was a joke.

“Yes, that’s right,” Aluin responded as if the question was genuine, looking up from the strange box he was fiddling with.

The group stared at them, stunned.

“But isn’t the Upper City closed?” Wyll wondered aloud, tilting his head.

“It’s taken care of,” Bromthrum said in a guarded manner.

“Is this the time for a party…?” Gale posited judgmentally. “With all that’s going on in the city?”

“We’re guests,” Aluin said like it was obvious. “We responded. It’d be rude not to go.”

Everyone could tell that the three were being odd. Tyrlumin was smirking. Bromthrum was a little irritated. Aluin was… well, Aluin.

“That’s it?” Astarion asked pointedly. “There’s just… a party? In the Upper City? And you’re all invited?”

“Well, there’s this list-” Aluin started, only for Bromthrum to jam a bejeweled hand into his side.

“That’s right. There’s a party and we’re invited,” Lumin said with a smile. “We’ll bring you back… leftovers.”

“Why’d you say it like that?” Wyll asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Come on, surely we can tell them?” Aluin insisted sorely. “They’re Ellie’s friends too.”

“Ugh. Why can’t you have fun with a secret like the rest of us?” Lumin spat back, annoyed. “You know, I thought it was fun when the kids wanted to make a guild. It’d be hilarious, watching that old hag squirm as they lauded her a hero. But no, all it’s doing is taking my fun away!”

“We’re rounding up rich arseholes,” Bromthrum grumbled, tired of the bickering.

“For… what?” Wyll was the one to ask.

“Well, Mel, her husband-” Tyrlumin started.

“Ex-husband,” Aluin corrected. “On account of Ellie.”

“What about her?” Astarion asked pointedly, his ears flicking in irritation.

“I believe they were ‘buried so far in each other’s tits that it was a mystery Mellia didn’t die from being impaled,’” Aluin answered academically, as if recalling something he read in a book once. “Also something about having her hand-”

“I think Mel was having a laugh, boy,” Lumin said, laughing himself.

“Never say ‘tits’ again,” Bromthrum pleaded. “You’ve ruined me on tits for the night.”

“I was only quoting what she told me…”

“Anyway. Mel and her little friends are going to eat the bad people. Simple concept.”

“If they know they’ve committed crimes, they should report them to the proper authorities-” Wyll responded with all of the seriousness of a boy raised on the premise of justice.

“Ah, see, but that might be the case when justice moves properly. We’re after the people who justice is truly blind to.”

“How bad are we talking?”

“Oh, you know. They tell the biggest lies, pull the biggest cons. Get people killed to make a penny. Poison whole neighborhoods. Let children die.”

“Kid-fuckers and murderers,” Bromthrum interjected angrily.

“Yes, them too. We round them up, the vamps feast, we paint their misdeeds on the walls, and all is well for another… six months or so.”

Astarion chuckled nervously, although he didn’t intend it to sound that way. “A whole flock of vampires? Cazador must be fuming.”

“Mm, as far as I’ve heard, he’s silent on the matter. He was probably invited- before you came up, that is. Besides, Mel’s sire called him- what was it, Win?”

Brom covered his ears. “No, don’t-”

“‘A crusty putrid cunt.’”

Having heard it anyway, Bromthrum groaned.

Gale seemed intrigued but also not convinced. “Are all of these vampires in attendance so… magnanimous?”

“Oh, no. It’s convenient, mostly. Well-fed, clean blood, easy to cover up. With all of them in one place it’s a- What’s it called, Win?”

Brom put his face in his hands, already accepting the inevitable. “Please.”

“‘Blood-sucking tit-fucking orgy,’ I believe.”

Tyrlumin snapped his fingers and gave the wizard a wink. “That’s it.”

“Quite the evening you have planned…”

“Well, it’s the first time Ellie’s been in the city. Also possibly the last, I suppose.”

Gale opened his mouth to ask something, but Astarion grabbed his sleeve with such ferocity that even his runaway mouth closed to see what it was.

Descending the stairs was an absolute vision of beauty and elegance dressed in black, red, and silver. There was so much silk and lace, glittering rubies and gleaming onyx stones. The angelic figure glided down the stairs, the subtle scent of roses preceding her.

And beside her was Eletha, offering her arm for support.

Astarion wasn’t staring at Mellia, although she was absolutely stunning. No, his eyes were on Eletha, whose appearance had changed so drastically and yet felt so incredibly familiar that it made his head hurt.

Where Mellia was dark, Eletha was bright in her white and gold coat with subtle hints of blue. Her new sword hung on her belt, giving her the appearance of a military officer having his portrait done. Her hair had grown out in a cascade of white curls, tamed by a blue ribbon and threaded with sparkling diamonds. The steel rings that normally adorned her ears were replaced by gold filigree ornaments that wrapped around the points.

Staring back at him were two brilliant blue eyes.

“Lori…” he breathed almost silently without realizing.

“You two look marvelous,” Gale remarked with a more-than-fond smile as Eletha played the courteous escort and helped Mellia off the stairs.

“Some of my finest work yet,” Lumin said with a bit of sass as he approached her, fussing with her face. “What do you think? Should I tone down the scars? Make her eyes gold instead of blue?”

“Either would look wonderful, but I am quite partial to the blue,” Gale said, unable to take his eyes off her. “And her scars give her a ruggedness that demands conversation.”

“I like him, Ellie, don’t fuck it up,” Lumin said quietly enough that it seemed like he didn’t want anyone to hear, but loud enough that they definitely did.

“Can we make some pictures?” Aluin asked hopefully, like a child asking to open presents on Midwinter. “I brought the box.”

Bromthrum started to grumble again. While Mellia scolded him for being a spoil-sport, Eletha took out her magic eye and handed it off to Aluin, who fit it into the curious little box he’d been carrying around. Her missing eye was hidden by the bard’s glamor, but some of those present still found the process… gross.

“What is this you’re doing?” Gale asked curiously as they shuffled around on the stairs, arguing over heights and places of importance.

“It’s a picture!” Aluin told him brightly as he summoned a simple simulacrum to hold the box. “You see, with the eye-”

“He can explain later. It’ll take all day,” Eletha told him kindly, well aware of what would happen if the two got to talking.

“It can also alter seeming-”

“Win!” the group on the stairs called in a mix of humor, annoyance, and fondness.

“Yes, right.”

Eventually they were ready to go and as Aluin entrusted the box to Gale with some words of caution, Eletha approached Astarion. Her expression was subtle, as if she was trying to not appear too happy.

Or maybe, she was being a little smug as her boots made her a few inches taller than him.

“I’ll save a dance for you two.”

“I'm worried you might break your ankles,” he responded cattily out of habit. “You look like a prince.”

Eletha tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. “Only a prince?”

“A king needs a crown.” Astarion attempted to adjust one of her curls, but it only snapped back into place. With a subtle smile and nod of respect, he said reverently, “Your Majesty.”

With her hand, weighed down by rings, Eletha touched his cheek softly, running her thumb over the curve of his cheekbone. “I’m so lucky to be able to love you all over again.”

She left him with a gentle kiss.

“You look like you've had an experience,” Gale said to him after saying his own goodbyes.

“You’re one to talk. You look like a lovesick teenager.”

“Oh, yes, she had quite an effect on me as well,” he admitted shyly, a blush on his cheeks. “Magnificent.”

“My head feels… fuzzy. As if my brain has been replaced with cotton…”

“Perhaps her appearance was reminding you of the past. Knocking loose old memories.”

“Perhaps…”

“Come. I have in mind a nice bath, an excellent bottle of wine, and a good book.” He smirked. “Unless you have something else in mind after seeing Eletha in her regalia?”

“Your idea sounds lovely.”

Gale was a little disappointed, but he didn't let it show.

Late into the evening, Eletha snuck back into the Elfsong. Somehow she managed to not wake Scratch or Pellet, the resident guard dogs, but the house wizard was up and about.

“Shouldn't you be sleeping, naughty human?” she whispered, a giggle in her voice. She was clearly drunk and smelled of sweat and blood. Her appearance, however, was immaculate.

Gale smiled at her as he closed his book and set aside his wine. “I slept a little and then got up.”

“Why? Couldn’t stay asleep?”

“To make sure you got back.”

“Don't worry about me, love, I'm fine.”

“More than fine,” he said with a smirk. “You're ravishing. I don't know what I enjoyed more, watching you come down the stairs or watching you go.”

“Smooth-talker.” She scoffed before taking a sip of his wine. “Now I know, you like long hair.”

“I like you. You wear both well.” His smirk widened as he noticed the flush on her face. “You don't seem tired enough for bed. Want some help?”

“Oh!” 

Afraid he’d gone too far, Gale pulled back. “Unless you don't-”

“I wasn't expecting-”

“You’re driving me positively mad-”

“I'm gross.”

“That's no problem for a wizard.”

“Let me- I’m gonna check on Astarion first.”

“Of course. I'll just go knock” Gale made a motion like casting a spell “on that private room door and make sure it's ready.”

In his bed, Astarion was also awake and reading. Eletha refrained from asking why he wasn't sitting with Gale.

He gave her a look that was both withering and bored. “I didn’t expect you back until morning, slinking in with a hangover that could knock out a rothe.”

“They don’t need me for the last bit.”

Astarion scoffed in disgust. “The blood-sucking tit-fucking orgy, you mean? I figured you’d want time with your other vampiric friend.”

Eletha sighed. “First, that was a long time ago. We’re just friends. She just likes to flirt and fluster people.

“Second, she likes telling Aluin stuff because he’ll believe her, doesn’t matter if it’s true. I used to tell him that they were being mean to him, but he’s in on it.

“Third… I know what story you’re talking about, and I want to make it clear, Mel and Mal amicably split a long time ago, before even our parents were born.”

Astarion felt foolish. It was so clear that he’d been stewing in jealousy over something so silly. She’d seen right through him as if he was made of glass.

Eletha sat down on the edge of the bed. Hand hovering over his thigh near his knee, she asked, “May I?”

Astarion nodded. Her hand came down on his leg gently and gave him a comforting squeeze. “I love you. Can’t stop thinking about that lately.”

He felt a tiny bit lighter to hear those words. “I love you too, my sweet.”

“I came in here to check on you and tell you that- Well. I guess ask permission for me and Gale to have some time together?”

Once again, everything felt heavy. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Unless you want to-”

“No.”

“Of course, that’s fine. I’ll tell him to-”

“No, not that. I meant-” Eletha waited patiently as Astarion ordered his thoughts. Sadly, he asked, “Is this because we haven’t… That I haven’t felt ready, since that last time?”

“No, my Star, it’s not. You take all the time you need and when you’re ready, we’ll be here.”

“What if I…”

“Then we’ll still be here. Because we love you.”

The great weight had been lifted a little, allowing Astarion to breathe just a little.

“Then why?” Eletha looked confused. “Why now? With Gale?”

“Because I love him. And I… feel great because I look good for probably the first time in my life? And I really believe it when he said I’m driving him mad.”

“You do look radiant.”

“Thank you.”

“But you’ve always looked good.”

“Yeah, but, you should have seen your face when I came downstairs. Like you'd never seen something so beautiful.”

“I mean, seeing my first sunset was probably the most beautiful thing-” he started flippantly, then laughed at her facetiously unamused expression. “Go on, Your Majesty. Your adoring servant is eagerly anticipating his audience.”

“You sure? We don't have to-”

Astarion took hold of her face and pulled her to him. His lips captured hers at first softly, then with need, and at last with finality.

Very seriously, he told her, “If you don't fuck that poor man, I'll be very cross with you.”

Eletha grinned. “Message received.”

When Eletha snuck into Stelmane’s old room, she found it quite different than the last time she saw it.

She trusted that it was clean, but it had been replaced by one of Gale’s illusions. A calm glade around water, surrounded by tall trees with a canopy of stars above them.

“I saw this in your mind many times,” Gale told her sweetly as she looked around. “I thought it might be comforting.”

Fondly, Eletha responded, “It does bring up some happy memories.”

“Sorry about the bed. I would love to lie down in the grass with you, but-”

“Gale, it’s perfect. I much prefer the bed,” she told him with a smile as she sat on the edge of said bed. As she started undoing the laces of her shoes, Gale came up behind her and started giving attention to her neck and shoulder.

“Was he alright?” he asked near her ear.

“More or less.” 

“He feels that he’s disappointing us. I could tell.”

“Are you disappointed?”

“In the sense that I cannot show him love in the way I am accustomed. But I enjoy other forms of affection.” His hand felt along her side and up her torso, feeling one thing but seeing another. “The uncertainty is the worst part. It hurts to see him like that.”

Boots removed, Eletha turned and kissed Gale with an amount of desperation she wasn’t aware was building in her.

Sweaty and satisfied, basking in the afterglow, Gale laid his head on her shoulder. Her hand played with his hair as his fingers traced the lines of scars on her body.

“You’re going to hate this, but I have to tell you,” she started to say. Thankfully, the humor in her voice kept Gale’s stomach from making a crater in his stomach. “This place-”

“Oh no,” Gale groaned, burying his face in her shoulder.

“-is where we made Quynn.”

“NooOoOo,” he sobbed, warbling a little with laughter. “That is incredibly embarrassing, I am so sorry.”

With a bit of surprise, she reassured him, “Honestly, it’s kinda nice.”

“It is a beautiful place… A perfect spot for young lovers.” Gale chuckled. “Not so young anymore.”

“The bed is a nice touch. Can’t be fucking on the floor like teenagers anymore.”

“Oh, gods forbid.”

It had been a long time since she’d been visited by this vision. 

And yet, it was so clear, as if she wasn’t trancing at all.

The blade in her hand flared with bright light. She could feel its heat, the subtle vibration that ran up her arm. 

Starstriker.

The voices that rose around her in a thunderous roar deafened her ears.

Some forgotten battle in some forgotten time. Faceless figures raising weapons high in a battle cry.

No matter the enemy, she would meet them with ferocity until they were slain or knelt at her feet.

This was her promise.

No, her purpose.

She would never yield.

She would keep fighting until the bitter end.

Chapter Text

Everyone was on edge.

It was only fair. The world was ending. A city was burning around them and there were enemies in every shadow.

But there were friends as well. Some old, some new, others surprising.

Between their group and the Wandering Stars, it seemed they had eyes in every wretched alley. At the end of the day, Eletha would listen to reports like a general. Sometimes they would find her in the middle of trampling around, via sending or summoned familiar. From the top of the Elfsong or the Order's secret hideout, she would survey the city like a battlefield, pipe clamped between her teeth, a bottle of something slowly going dry.

Sometimes, Gale would watch, with a mix of admiration and heartbreak. His love practically glowed in the setting sun. It was encouraging to see the way she hesitated before putting a drink to her lips. It wasn't an oblivion-seeking slurp, but it reminded him too much of how she was when they met. 

Their night together in the private room gave Gale confidence that things were going well. But then Eletha became cold and distant, almost like a different person. When her eyes met his, something else was looking at him. Something very old. 

Astarion thought it was about him. About how he told them that, while it wasn't a mistake and he enjoyed it, he wasn't sure if he was ready for their intimacy to be a regular thing. It sounded so foolish, after what they'd done, but he felt that he needed time to sort things out.

And, while Gale was ecstatic to have intimacy back without the fear of detonation and Eletha marvelled that she managed to see the whole thing through without scratching any eyes out, they assured him that they would work at his pace.

Gale thought it was his fault, that he wasn't enough. If he just had the Crown of Karsus, he would be enough. Convincing Eletha of that fact would be difficult…

When Astarion brought up his concerns regarding their shared love's retreat, Gale set aside his feelings to provide a more rational answer.

"I'm sure this is just how she deals with concern. There are a lot of moving parts in this grand play."

And for all the affection she showed them, they may as well have been props. Even with the dispersonal way she treated her old companions, Gale still felt a spike of jealousy when she consulted with Aluin. Gale was far superior. He was an Archmage, Mystra's chosen! Yet she continued to ask the pathetic little wizard questions and whisper to one another.

Astarion found Mellia equally hackle-raising. The way she touched Eletha so casually. The look in her eyes as she stared at Astarion. So knowing… So smug. In a way, kind. Inviting him on hunts, introducing him to other vampires, giving him advice. Being a vampire was difficult, and being one as long-lived as Mellia could be even more so. Especially when you factored in that she hadn't become a self-obsessed megalomaniac like every other Szarr.

While she certainly felt awful about how she was acting, Eletha was keenly aware that she was, at all times, about 5 seconds from completely collapsing into herself. One of those bright-eyed kids could get themselves killed trying to gain her admiration. She didn't know what she'd do with herself if Mel or Win got themselves hurt for her. And now a voice was needling at her from her damn sword.

But above all else, at any time, her eyes could land on a certain white-haired elf.

The only way she knew how to keep it together, was to shut everything out. A switch in her brain flipped and she was someone else. Or rather, an amalgam of someones, previous lives that built on one another for a singular purpose. The voice from her sword spoke in concert with her own, as if they were one.

Deep inside, her heart ached. She wanted so desperately to love Gale and Astarion in the way they deserved. But she couldn't keep being the weak, broken doll her life had made her. She didn't know how to fix it, only shove it down into the deep dark pit inside her.

Perhaps it wasn't as deep as she thought, for it was starting to resist the things she threw into it.

Brom told her that Heilar had come by with another elf. Judging by the way he looked at the place and asked questions, it was dubious whether the two were going to choose to leave.

While Heilar and Brom discussed how to get out of the city, Quynn walked up to the Order's youngest Wandering Stars.

"Oh, hello!" Zespira greeted him cheerily, happy for any excuse to not be writing her report on the goings-on in Baldur's Gate. With a cock of her head, she asked, "Are you here to join?"

Quynn asked what she meant. The tiefling gave a very good pitch for the fledgling society of adventurers, flavored with a brief and glowing biography of their 'founder.' It would have worked wonders on any other person who'd walked through the door.

"I've only heard of the Harpers," Quynn said, trying to keep his emotions level. His would-be recruiter only assumed it was his 'tough guy' persona. Adventurers had to look tough, especially to other adventurers.

"Oh, they're good too! We got to meet Jaheira- She's amazing!" Quietly, Gin muttered, "Kinda scary." Without addressing this, Zespira went on, "She reminds me a lot of Eletha. Like a mum!"

"Do you know her," Nei-Fonn asked him pointedly before he could make some excuse to leave, "or did you manage to wander in off the street?"

"My father knew her," Quynn lied-but-not-quite-lied, gesturing to Heilar. "He was her teacher."

"That's so cool!" Zespira said with a subtle little clap of joy.

"Are you related?" Nei-Fonn asked flatly, an eyebrow raised provocatively. "You look alike."

"We're from the same clan, yes," Quynn managed to say without giving away how upsetting that question was.

"You look a lot like that guy she brought around-" Gin started, the gears in that block head of his finally turning.

Zespira scoffed, crossing her arms and pouting in frustration. "I still can't believe she hid a tragic long-lost love from us! I mean, really. We could've been looking for him this whole time! And with an evil vampire master, to boot. It would've made a good story."

Quynn quirked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Apparently, he's been missing for over 200 years! Isn't that so sad? I always thought she seemed so lonely… Now we know, I guess."

"You a monster hunter or something?" Nei-Fonn asked, idly spinning something around on her finger. Quynn eyed it suspiciously and reached for a bag at his hip. Zespira sighed sharply and gave her friend a withering glare.

"Stop stealing people's things!"

"It's not against the rules," Nei-Fonn said defensively as she handed the dried chimera claw back.

"Well, it's rude. I don't think it's too much to ask that you not steal from members, prospective or otherwise."

"We really need to make badges, so then we can know who's in the club when there's more people!" Gin butted in hopefully.

"It's not a club, it's a secret society of adventurers!" Zespira argued, clearly fed up with this constant misunderstanding.

"You really think more people will join?" Quynn asked with genuine curiosity.

"Oh, of course! Eletha has inspired and helped so many people! There were about 100 letters waiting for her when she finally showed up."

"She was really mad when that old man showed up," Nei-Fonn said off-handedly.

"An old man?"

"He's apparently the third person in his family to adventure with her. Isn't that amazing? She met that old man when he was a baby and now he's old and still wants to help out! He even came with his son. And he has a son! I bet that kid'll join up some day. Can you imagine? Five generations of adventurers, with their own stories about Eletha Nightstar!"

Quynn chewed on the inside of his cheek. He wasn't aware of it until Gin asked him directly, "Does your pop have any stories about her?"

"He's got… a lot, yes."

"Care to share?"

They all looked up at him brightly. Well, Nei-Fonn less brightly, but she was trying to seem really cool about how excited she was to hear an old story about their order's master.

"She has a son," he blurted out. They all seemed very shocked. So, they didn't know… It was probably too much to hope that she at least mentioned him in passing. "He never met her, though. She left, when he was really small."

"I don't believe you," Zespira said, almost accusingly. Still shocked, she said, "But… she's like a mum to me…"

"We had a shitty ma, and we turned out fine," Gin argued helpfully, not wanting to see his friend upset.

"You're an idiot and your sister's a thief!" Zespira spat back, perhaps in the most loving way possible.

"Well, I should go," Quynn said with finality. His teacher had told him not to make waves. He'd have to make his exit before Heilar found out and gave him a verbal hiding. "I hear the streets of this place are dangerous after dark."

"You look capable enough," Nei-Fonn pointed out, giving his sword a glance.

"You could stay here!" Zespira insisted, desperate for him to not walk away. "You could tell us more stories! Eletha might drop by."

Quynn wasn't ready for that. He'd seen her, and his father, from afar, but that was all he could manage right now. As much as it would please him to poison their opinions of her, hear a little less praise and admiration in their voices…

"Come on, Quynn," Heilar called for him, tugging on his gloves and buckling his scabbard back onto his belt. "We should go."

"Duty calls," Quynn told them with an easy half-cocked smile. "Good luck out there."

The mood at the table was rather off. Only Nei-Fonn managed to give him a flippant gesture of goodbye.

"What were you doing back there?" Heilar asked him angrily as they shouldered their way through the city.

"Just talking to my siblings," Quynn answered with no small amount of venom.

"You're just making it worse. We have to get out of here."

"What if I don't want to leave?"

"Don't be daft. Stubborn fool…" That disapproving shake of his head had been punishment enough in the past.

"I'm not a child anymore. Just go on your own, if you're scared."

"I'm not scared of death, boy. Besides. Your mother wants you out of here."

"And my father?"

On this, Heilar was annoyingly silent.

"Your father's dead."

"He's not. I saw him with my own eyes."

"That's not him anymore. You won't get what you're looking for."

"I didn't come all this way just to not-"

"Gods, it's like talking to them all over again," Heilar cursed under his breath. Quynn cringed. "I don't know how you feel. I know what it's like to feel wrong, to not fit whatever plan others had for you. And that might not ever go away. But for now, perhaps try to be a little more grateful that you're alive and that your mother cares about you enough that she doesn't want to find your mangled corpse after this place explodes."

Only the sounds of the city answered as they walked for another block.

Annoyed, Quynn spoke up. "Was that supposed to be comforting? Because it really wasn't."

"Yes, well, I would've made a bad mother too." 

More quietly, much like a child coming to terms with something scary and complex, he asked, "Do you really think nothing good can come of me speaking with them?"

Heilar had been preparing for something like that for a long time. He still didn't have a great answer.

"In my honest opinion? No. I think she'd kill you, just to spite them, and then kill herself, because there are no coals hot enough, graves deep enough, or rocks heavy enough to punish her for that. She was made for destruction, and that's what she'll do."

Quynn didn't hang his head, because it looked weak, but he wanted to.

With every lie that came undone, he fantasized about a new life. A local hero turned into his big brother, and one day he'd get to see him and they'd go on adventures together. It hurt when he finally learned that his father wasn't there for him, but he was doing something important, he was Corellon reborn.

None of the things he grew up believing were true. None of those fantasies would come to pass. His father never knew he existed, and now he didn't even know who he was himself. His mother didn't even want to see him, yet all of those young adventurers, generations of them, looked up to her.

By now, Quynn didn't know what he wanted to say to them. Maybe Heilar was right. There was no point. But if he was this close and didn't even stand before them, make sure that they saw his face, then he'd regret it for the rest of his life.

He didn't need their love, or their pleas for forgiveness.

Quynn just needed them to know that he was there, that he existed.

----

Eletha didn't argue when Gale retrieved the Annals of Karsus and started reading it like a man possessed. Astarion had to be the one to voice caution, and he resented how it felt on his tongue.

When they stood before the door to Cazador's manse, it was Gale's turn to be annoyed that he was doing all the emotional heavy-lifting while Eletha seemed lost in her own world. At least emotional support didn't require any pressure on his knees.

Eletha could only offer a blank stare, not even offering an opinion.

She took Mellia's words to heart. There would be no "making this about" herself. Her purpose was to observe and kill.

When she gained the presence of mind to react at all to what was happening around her, Astarion and Eletha stood, side-by-side, staring at a bed. A few feet away, Gale and Shadowheart reverently wrapped the little girl's body in a sheet and set her aside.

Eletha reached out and gingerly touched Astarion's back. He recoiled from the contact, as if it burned.

"What do you think you're doing?" he snapped at her. She didn't offer an answer, merely let her hand drop to her side. Gale looked up, but said nothing. "This is what it takes to get a reaction out of you? The sad little story of how I spent my days while you were off having your grand adventures?"

At this, Eletha emitted a soft wavering hum, as if trying to find a pitch.

Its familiarity rankled him.

"We should keep on," Gale told them firmly, his knees cracking as he stood.

He wanted to tell Astarion that she just wanted to comfort him, that this wasn't her fault. But more than that, he wanted to tell her that it was too little, too late.

"I don't need your pity," Astarion spat at her as he passed.

Shadowheart and Astarion went into the hallway and Gale followed, but stopped when he didn't hear her footsteps behind him. Turning, he saw her kneeling beside the covered body of the little girl they'd found.

"Nothing will hurt you ever again," Eletha whispered to her, a look of genuine sorrow on her face as she pressed her hand to what was probably the body's arm. "I promise."

When she stood, that sorrow was gone, replaced by the emotionless mask she'd been wearing for days now.

After all of the shit Cazador put Astarion through, it was finally coming to an end. He would offer up the bastard in his place, say the words, and-

No.

In that moment, Astarion knew what he wanted.

To live as himself.

Ascension was Cazador's work. Astarion may have provided some of the labor, but it wasn't his.

It was satisfying enough to know he was stealing it right from under the vampire lord's nose, right at the finish line.

With every plunge of the blade, every cry, every whimper of pain, Astarion expected all those years to melt away.

When he was done, there was relief. Relief that Cazador was gone. That, if they ever got these tadpoles out of their heads, he wouldn't have to fear his control.

But there was still pain. Not even Cazador's death could wash it all away. The scars were still there. What little he remembered was still there.

Astarion collapsed on the ground and sobbed.

Something in Gale's chest twisted to see him like this.

He noticed something pulling on his robes and an incessant sound drifted across his ear.

It was Eletha, clinging onto him like a scared child. Her eyes, wide and full of fear and pain, couldn't tear away from Astarion. She was using all of her strength to not run to him and crush him into her body, shielding him from the horrors around them.

Gale wanted to do that too. But such an act wouldn't be for Astarion, it would be for them. He needed this moment, just for him.

And while Eletha knew that, Lorelai didn't. Deep inside, that poor young woman was clawing at the bars of her cage, screaming to reach her precious Star. It was tearing her up inside to watch and not help. She was failing her little prince.

Gale pulled her into an embrace and buried her face in his chest so she couldn't see. Close, he could hear that the sound she was making was a song. With its soft notes and gentle rhythm, it was undoubtedly an elven lullaby.

"It's okay, my love," he soothed, a hand cradling the back of her head. "That man can never hurt him again."

Shadowheart looked away awkwardly. It was oddly intimate and embarrassing to watch, but it seemed rude to leave. She'd just gossip about it later over a bottle of well-deserved wine.

Mellia would be ashamed, Eletha thought when she finally came back into herself. Making a spectacle of herself at this moment. Was she so selfish?

Finally, Astarion stood and Eletha couldn't look at him. If she did, she would surely shatter.

While Astarion spoke with his 'siblings' and decided to release the spawn into the Underdark, Eletha pushed ice back through her veins and steel into her spine.

But she still couldn't look directly at him. Instead, she paid special attention to the bodies scattered on the ground, searching for anything useful.

When the horrid numbness faded away, Astarion would feel hurt. Abandoned. He hadn't seen her distress and Gale wouldn't bring it up unless hard-pressed. The last thing Astarion needed was to feel like her emotional stability was his responsibility.

"Let's go. I don't want to be here a minute longer than I have to be," Astarion told the other two, pushing his way back into the palace proper.

Gale spared Eletha a parting glance. Kneeling at Cazador's side, staring at him with an intense emptiness. He would have expected unbridled rage and hatred.

It felt prudent to leave her to her own devices.

She was finally getting around to ripping the fangs out of the corpse's mouth when two shadows fell over her.

A whistle was swallowed by the vast emptiness of the surrounding cavern.

"I'm disappointed I missed this," Mellia commented, careful to not dirty her shoes as she regarded the carnage.

"I don't think now is the time for levity," Aluin retorted a bit angrily for someone of his temper.

"No. Of course not." The vampire felt properly chastised. Standing at her friend's side, she said much more gently, "Ellie, dear, I can handle him. Make sure he's not coming back."

Silently, Eletha rolled the last fang between her fingers like she might twirl the stem of her pipe idly. White-hot anger welled up in her chest.

"No one will judge you if you-" Mellia's words were lost in the sound of Eletha swiftly retrieving the knife from her boot and smashing it down into the dead vampire's guts over and over again with all of her strength.

Much like Astarion, she realized that this didn't drive away the pain. The damage had been done and even if he could suffer, torturing Cazador would never erase what happened.

"Let's… do what we came here to do, yeah?" Aluin coaxed her with a gentle voice, holding out a hand to help her to her feet.

Eletha sniffled back tears and wiped the blood off her knife onto Cazador's once-fine clothes. She reached for her friend's aid, but pulled back her hand when she realized how much blood and gore was clinging to it.

As Mellia performed whatever dark magic she saw fit on her fellow's corpse, Aluin and Eletha made their way back into the palace. The others were long gone, her friends only slipping in once they saw the group leave.

Outside, the sun was high in the sky, but here, inside these cursed walls, it might as well have been nighttime.

"Do you have a good place in mind?" Aluin asked in his gentle way, pulling out the magical box from his robes.

Taking a deep breath, Eletha showed Aluin the way.

Coming to stand in front of the room where they found the dead girl, Eletha produced her treasured token from her hip pouch and gave it to Aluin. Her friend accepted it with almost holy reverence, touching it just enough to do what she'd asked him to.

Then she took out her magic eye and slotted it into his device, spinning the dials until it was in the correct configuration.

Ghosts- mere images and impressions of people- appeared before them in the device's light. Aluin whispered a spell over the token and the phantoms puffed in and out of sight as the magic searched for a single thread.

Before them, Astarion appeared.

Not the Astarion she knew, or even the Astarion who had just walked past not an hour ago. This one was ragged, with sunken eyes and sagging skin.

"Okay. Now you should be able to change the chronological aspect," Aluin said tonelessly, concentrating intently on maintaining the spell that connected the token to the device.

Turning a dial, Eletha watched as the phantom changed. It blurred with motion as it walked into the room, trailing a faint impression of a person, and out again by itself. Her quick eye was looking for something in particular-

"There," she said aloud, stilling her hand. "Surely we can find something with this."

Before her stood Astarion, much more hale, but still defeated.

"Yes. We can always adjust as we go." The image faltered as Aluin's concentration was perturbed. "You know, we may be here a while."

"I know."

"We… might not find anything."

"I know," Eletha repeated flatly. The device shook in her hands.

"It will be okay," Aluin reassured her.

It was certainly difficult though, following in his footsteps. She'd been tracking these ghosts the whole time her group scoured the palace. Seeing Astarion's wretched form, even more disheveled and emaciated than when they met on the beach. Watching as he acted more like an animal than the proud elf he once was and became again.

Straining to hear even a hint of his voice.

If only she had gone to meet him. If only she hadn't assumed that he meant to leave her behind-

Closing her eyes, she banished all thoughts. She needed to concentrate.

Thus they searched around the palace, following Astarion's ghost in the hopes of finding something. Anything at all that could be from his old life.

-----

On the way back to the Elfsong, Gale felt… odd.

He knew some people could manage it, but he was starting to question whether he could balance two relationships at the same time.

It seemed so easy when the two were in their own relationship, but now things were off.

Would he have to choose? And if he did… who would it be?

Giving Astarion space, Gale wasted the rest of the day in the tavern, sipping wine that wasn't up to his standards and poring over his latest tome.

It was dark when he finally looked up.

He couldn't remember anything he read. Seemingly, he didn't get very far. Most of the time had been spent contemplating his predicament. It was very rare that he was so distracted.

On the way up to their rooms, he passed a figure. Gale only climbed a few steps before he whirled around.

"Pardon me-" he started. The figure froze. "Would your name happen to be Quynn Irithyl?"

Quynn cursed under his breath in Elvish.

"Please, don't go quite yet."

Maybe it was because he already felt gutted, but Gale's soft plea stabbed him right in the stomach.

"Let me buy you a drink," Gale offered in a much more firm but friendly manner.

"I don't drink," Quynn answered, yet he followed Gale anyway.

"Well, then, you can watch me drink." Was that a decent joke? The elf was very stony. It was quite familiar.

Even tucked away in a corner booth, Quynn refused to lower his hood.

"How rude of me, I did not introduce myself. I-"

"I know who you are," Quynn interrupted. No small amount of wind was blown out of Gale's sails.

"... Right." Gale cleared his throat. "Might I ask what you are doing skulking around our base of operations?"

Quynn's bright blue eyes looked away. "I was following my mother."

This confused Gale. Surely he would have noticed if she came back. The confusion passed. "I take it she did not see you."

Warily, Quynn asked, "What makes you say that?"

"I imagine it would not be a pleasant experience for anyone."

Quynn looked away again. "My master said that as well…"

"Ah, it wasn't my intention to-" Gale cut himself off and cleared his throat to reset. "I was hoping that this would happen. That I could talk to you first."

"Why? To convince me to walk away?"

"Oh, no, I wouldn't do that. That is your decision to make." Quynn only questioned him further with his eyes. "No, it's only that… My father left, when I was a wee lad. Old enough to remember him, but I spent most of my life with just my mother."

"So, what, you relate to me?"

Gale chuckled in a way that Quynn had heard a hundred times before. It said, 'You're just like them.'

But he didn't say that.

"You're right. It's not much of a comparison. How foolish of me. I apologize, I have wasted your time."

Quynn didn't know why, but he put his hand out and pressed it over Gale's before the man could stand all the way up.

"Tell me."

With just a small amount of satisfaction on his face, Gale sat back down. Quynn's hand retreated.

"When I came into my magic, he was cautious, but optimistic. My mother could afford to send me to school, perhaps I could apprentice to a decent wizard.

"But that was not the plan Mystra had for me. The Weave worked through me in ways rarely witnessed. Mystra favored me and I would become her chosen. But not before creating some problems for the people around me.

"Father couldn't take it anymore. He left. And I have neither seen nor heard from him since."

There was a pause that Gale used to take a sip of his wine and wet his throat while Quynn soaked in his words.

"When I learned why Eletha was so… haunted, it did bring up some feelings I believed left behind me. And I couldn't help but think of you, when the cracks in that stoic mask started to show.

"And I know she thinks of you, of what was the right thing to say. Of how to handle whatever you had to say."

"What do you think she'd say?"

"What all estranged parents say, I suppose."

"And if your father came back and apologized, would you forgive him?"

"Oh, of course not. He vowed to love my mother and build a family with her, and he broke that promise. I can understand why he left, I was certainly a handful, but understanding doesn't demand forgiveness.

"However-" Gale hesitated, aware that going on might not be the best course of action.

"They chose for her," Quynn said for him, with the severity that Gale hoped he would employ.

"She is quite adamant about choices. And helping people." Gale smiled, admiration glittering in his eyes. "She's helped quite a lot of people."

"I know, I've met a few of them." Furtively, Quynn glanced around before looking at his hands where they lay on the table. "You're an archmage. Do you know… what they did? To her?"

"A moment in a control spell is nothing compared to a year being passed between mages," Gale said. "Not to sway y-"

"Can you do it to me?"

"I don't think-"

"I want to know. I want to understand."

Silence only befell them for the brief moment Gale was stunned.

"Mmm… There are quite a few moral quandaries to unpack here," Gale pondered academically. "Magically dominate my recent lovers' estranged son? With the potential to sway a decision that indirectly benefits me?"

An exasperated sigh escaped Quynn's nose. "I'm asking you to do it. Are you going to make me get on my knees?"

"I could certainly make you… But this begs the question. What is sufficiently uncomfortable enough for you that I am comfortable enough forcing you to do?"

"Ugh, wizards! How hard is this?"

"There is no denying your parentage," Gale remarked with a soft chuckle.

Quynn raised his fist to slam it on the table, but it stopped midair. He hadn't even heard or seen the spell be cast, such was the skill of Mystra's once-chosen.

"Right now, you are coming to the realization that you are no longer connected to your body," Gale explained with the chill of dispassionate fact. "First is panic, then extreme discomfort, as the disconnect between your will and your form becomes more obvious. I find it is similar to the realization that one is dying."

Quynn couldn't say anything in response, because Gale didn't allow him to. He did, however, allow him to gently lower his raised fist, which he would have done anyway but it was revolting how his body moved on its own.

"It's rather awful, isn't it? I cannot imagine enduring such a state every day for nearly a year. Likely they magically induced sleep as well. I assume you were denied the special bond an elf has with the one who carried them, the shared trance that teaches you important lessons?

"Oh, silly me, you can't answer."

Quynn would have shook if Gale wasn't commanding him to be completely still.

"But they didn't merely keep her still. They had many rules for her. Many things she didn't want to do." Gale looked at his wine. Sliding it across to Quynn, he said, "Here. Have a drink."

Quynn reached out, took the glass, and raised it to his lips. His will commanded his nose to scrunch up in disgust, his lips to press together, and his hand to lower, but they obeyed no command but Gale's. Lips parted, the smell washed over his tongue. He tilted back his head, lifted the glass, and-

With a painful snap, he was able to put it down.

"I do beg you to remember that you asked for that quite ardently," Gale said gently, almost sadly, as he retrieved his drink. Released, Quynn took deep, steadying breaths. "Imagine. Someone who is supposed to love and protect you, doing a thing like that. Not caring if a part of you died to serve their own means."

As his words sank into Quynn's head, Gale added, "I hope you don't see me as cruel. I really did worry about how this would feel."

Quynn managed to look into Gale's big brown eyes once more and saw only honesty.

"I should go," was all he could say.

"I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that you should leave the city," Gale said before he could slip out of the booth, "but I know that you won't."

The city air was hot and disgusting when Quynn stepped out into the night. He'd visited a few towns, but none had an impression like Baldur's Gate.

He hated it thoroughly.

-----

With a heaviness in his heart, Gale made his way upstairs. The air inside the tavern was oppressive, so he decided to take a few minutes on the roof before heading to bed.

His plans for relaxation came to a halt when his eyes landed on Eletha.

Head bowed, sitting alone, the sadness she was feeling was so deep it practically hung in the air.

In the moments it took Gale to contemplate going over to her, debating whether or not to tell her about Quynn, Astarion materialized at his side.

"There you are," he said with a mix of impatience and suggestion. "I've been looking for you. I want to show you something."

"What about-" Gale looked over his shoulder towards Eletha. Astarion shook his head.

"Not a good idea. You'll see."

Gale took a second to feel bad about that before following Astarion back into the tavern.

"You're right," he said, standing in the graveyard, "it was not a good idea."

He watched as Astarion defaced his own headstone and was filled with a sense of connection as he dutifully listened to his musings. They were the same, in some regards. Like having to figure out who they were without the people who pulled their strings.

"As much as I would love to fall into each other's arms, I'm not sure I am a fan of the venue," Gale remarked as he tried to kneel in the grass next to Astarion. On second thought, he summoned a stool. "Or what it would do to my poor knees."

"We can't have our finest wizard out of commission, now, can we?" Astarion purred.

"I will still sit with you, of course. As long as you desire."

"Oh, I do desire. But there is something else I wanted to talk to you about." From a pocket, he produced a pendant and handed it to Gale. It was one he'd given Eletha so long ago, only to break it early in their adventure.

"I found a jeweler to fix it, but… Well, it's supposed to glow. When I think of her. She said it went dark a long time ago. I thought perhaps you could enchant it again?"

"Mm… There was never such an enchantment on this pendant," Gale said aloud after carefully inspecting the piece.

Astarion's ears drooped in disappointment. "But I saw it. In her memory. And heard myself say that it would."

"I do not doubt that it glowed. I suspect your younger self was sustaining a simple light spell. You were inseparable, it would've been easy to do."

"But it went out when I died."

"A coincidence."

Astarion looked away, annoyed and agitated.

"I could… enchant it to always glow. If that's what you want."

"I think that would make her happy. Don't you?"

"If anything would… perhaps it would be that."

Astarion was uncharacteristically silent as Gale worked, putting the Weave into the pendant. When he handed it back, it flowed a faint blue. "It is not my best work. If it manages its way to Waterdeep I should be able to make it permanent."

Astarion admired it, rolling it around in his fingers to see how the enchantment changed its appearance.

Gale considered the possibility of telling Astarion about his run in with Quynn or that he thought it prudent they go check on Eletha. But then Astarion took his hand and placed a kiss on his knuckles.

"Let's find someplace suitable for two old men to get up to something," he suggested.

"We are far from old-"

Gale stood.

"Your knees beg to differ, my love."

Chapter Text

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… inme…"

"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."

"True. But I won't tell if you don't."

Chapter Text

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.

"Yes-"

Heilar grabbed Quynn's shoulder. "Quynn, she'll kill you."

"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.

Chapter Text

One blue eye.

The next morning, Eletha engaged in her long-standing routine of taking out her magic eye and cleaning it.

Most of the time, she didn't have a real mirror, only one that fit in her pocket. It was good enough for making sure there was nothing amiss about her face and to check around corners.

In the Elfsong, she could stare at herself with that regular, unmagical, totally unremarkable blue eye.

Her fingers traced the scars on her face. Some wounds felt like yesterday, others another lifetime. There were more freckles on her cheeks than she remembered and the circles under her eyes were so dark, she wondered if they were blacked.

Feeling the fuzz of her hair, only two weeks away from being burned away once more, she thinks about how so many things bothered her now. That she looked old. That she had little choice in how to wear her hair. The unsightliness of a scar. How her face was in a perpetual glare.

But seeing that blue eye… That was still the same.

One by one, she felt the rings dangling from her ears, counting aloud in her head. Gillian Clearbrooke, Callen Stoutspark, Solnia Glohart…

Touching the last, the first to be pierced through, Astarion.

How many more would she have to add before this was over?

Cleaning her fingers, Eletha plucked her magic eye from its cleansing solution and placed it in her left eye socket.

Looking back from the mirror was a young elf. Her skin was mostly clear and smooth. Loose curls were pulled back in a utilitarian ponytail at the base of her neck.

Two blue eyes stared back at her.

She would be better. She had to be better. For them. For her friends. For the Wandering Stars. For the city. For her family.

Eletha Nightstar would keep her head on straight.

The air bloomed with the smell of blood. Somehow, it managed to overwhelm the stench of the city sewer.

The others had made a sound. Yelling?

The figure before her, wearing her son's face, feigned shock at the sight of her knife handle sticking out of it. Then it laughed.

"For such a horrible mother, I am surprised that your worm-riddled brain could tell that it was me," Orin purred after returning to her usual form. Admiring the knife in her hand, she went on, "Or, did you wish to finish the job? Mmm? Spill the scrumptious guts of the creature that slithered out of yours?"

"Where is Quynn?!" Gale snarled out, a spell ready at his fingertips. Even Halsin readied himself to change shape, but a gesture from Eletha made him stop.

"Back at home, safe and sound, wrapped up like babe. Surrounded by the kind of love that brought him into the world," Orin answered with false sweetness. "Isn't that right, mummy dearest?"

"I'll hang you by your entrails," Eletha snapped coldly.

"We'll see who Father favors, my distant sister."

As suddenly as she'd appeared, wearing Quynn's face and pleading for her love, Orin was gone.

"We need to approach this logically-" Gale started with a calming tone, quite aware of the fact that things were going to spiral out of control real soon.

"Gale, are you insane?" Astarion all but spat at him. "What do you think she's going to do while you make us wait? What has she already done?!"

Despite the ice running through her veins, Eletha managed to move. Very seriously, with possibly the last amount of mental strength she had left, she regarded the three who chose to follow her today.

"I'll go alone. You don't have to do this."

"That's even more ridiculous than going in without a plan," Astarion pointed out, amazed that he was a voice of reason right now.

"Even if it was a stranger, I would advise we move quickly," Halsin said, giving her a soft sympathetic look. "Knowing that she has Quynn, I believe haste is not the worst idea."

Eletha looked to Gale next.

He nodded firmly. "Let us save Quynn before Orin acts on her sadistic instincts."

"Let's go. I know the way," Eletha said with finality.

No one asked how she knew that. It just came to her.

No one asked what Orin meant by "my distant sister."

Eletha pushed that aside and kept her head on straight.

At Eletha's lowest, she was a pure killing machine.

But that wasn't how it felt.

Everything was sharp and clear. Sharper and clearer than it had ever been. Her mind was solely focused on the task at hand. No worries. No second-guessing. No questions.

Eletha at her lowest felt like Eletha at her highest. Death elevated to an artform.

"Hells, imagine if Orin snatched me," Astarion wondered aloud with amazement as they tried to catch up. Turning his head in the direction of Gale, he remarked, "Well, it's unlikely I would be so easy a mark. So I suppose imagine if she took you."

"Mother bears protect their young relentlessly," Halsin commented, adding with a surprising amount of humor, "but I shouldn't say that where she can hear."

"You need to slow down!" Gale called out to Eletha as she ran across a bridge towards a large and imposing door.

Much to his surprise, she obeyed. 

Eletha had heard him, yes, but the sight of the door chilled her heart. Still, now was no time for fear or worry. Her words were true: she didn't want to see Quynn die before his time, especially because of her.

If only he'd listen.

She knew someone else like that.

When the others finally caught up, Eletha placed her hand on the door.

And it opened.

The leather of her longsword's grip creaked under her hand as she tightened her hold.

"We will save him," Halsin told her calmly, sensing her sudden anxiety.

Eletha turned to them and regarded each face. Halsin, serious but sensitive, much like the big protector she'd always wished for. Gale, confident and cunning, the exact kind of wizard an adventurer needed in their corner. Astarion, alert and-

"What are you waiting for, darling?" he told her smoothly, raising an eyebrow as he smirked.

"Whatever happens-" she started, the first words she'd spoken since their run-in with Orin.

"We can forgive some unsportsmanlike conduct. She has it coming," Astarion reassured her, reinforced by the other two nodding in agreement.

Eletha lowered her head one last time. "Thank you."

"Is that her, trip-trapping down our stair?" Orin cooed in a stage whisper, hovering over Quynn's bound form. "Mummy? Has mummy come to save you? Fruit of her rotten corpse-womb?"

"Enough of this, Orin," Eletha commanded, her voice ringing out powerfully in the vast temple. Quynn tried to fight his bonds, but it was pointless.

A small involuntary laugh escaped Orin's mouth. "The Murder Lord will never have enough, blood sister."

"I am not your sister. I am your executioner."

"You? How do you expect to snip-snap my neck when you could not kill a half-formed babe?" Orin giggled as she put the tip of her dagger to Quynn's throat. "Let me finish what you could not! Pl- eaaaase, murder-kin? Let me?"

"You will suffer a hundred-fold for a drop of his blood," Eletha warned.

"Yes yes give me agony. Pluck me bone from socket. Stroke me with a jagged edge until my skin shreds wet and red," Orin pleaded with fanatic glee, vibrating from the excitement.

The Murder Lord's child reared up as if to invoke some sort of power, but none came. In a panic, she looked from hand to hand as if something should be there. Then she turned to the great emblem of Bhaal carved high above their heads.

"No nonono NO!" she screamed. "You heard the words from its filthy word-flap. She is no slaughter-kin. She cannot take my place!"

The emblem's empty stone eyes glowed red. Orin looked around as the scions of Bhaal that surrounded them stepped away and crossed their forearms as if to show that they would no longer be helping.

Roaring with rage, Orin redirected her attention to Eletha once more. "I do not need my true form to best the likes of you. You are but worm-meat to me. But if Bhaal wishes for such a contest, I am not one to deny him the offering of your crimson."

Both moved so quickly, it was difficult to keep track of what was happening. Eletha was eerily quiet as Orin punctuated every movement with angry snarls and delighted laughter.

Astarion was able to see Eletha's sword put a long slice into Orin's thigh. Orin repaid her by sinking her knife several times in Eletha's leg before being pushed away.

Eletha didn't even wince. Nor did she notice the arrival of Heilar, Mellia, Zespira, and Nei-Fonn, who stood above to watch in awe.

Somehow, Orin managed to trip the sure-footed Eletha, causing her blade to skitter across the platform. But when Orin made to plunge her knife down on her in a killing strike, Eletha snatched her arm with the speed of a viper. The knife went flying with a snap of Orin's forearm.

What followed was less a beautiful ballet and more a bar fight involving two caged panthers.

The two wrestled, managing to scrape and claw at each other as they slipped on the bloody floor. In the brief time Orin was standing, she stomped on Eletha's thigh, breaking her femur. Eletha grabbed the woman's foot and pulled her down. 

Wrestling around on the floor once more, Orin got Eletha's boot knife free and stabbed its owner a few times in the stomach before Eletha got control of it again. After sinking it into Orin's back, she threw it away, trailing blood as it arced through the air. 

A piece of changeling flesh tore away in Eletha's teeth. Orin broke one of Eletha's ribs, puncturing her lung in the process.

Eletha smacked Orin's head into the hard stone floor and proceeded to strangle her, wheezing as her lung collapsed.

With her longer reach, Orin started to scratch at Eletha's face and her magic eye went sailing with a particularly powerful swipe.

Not missing a beat, Eletha paid her back two-fold, ripping out milky white eyes as if cleaning the guts out of a freshly-caught fish, curling two fingers around them and yanking them out of their sockets.

Orin cackled.

"You think he will accept you-"

Eletha punched down on Orin's clavicle. It snapped, breaking through the ever-shifting flesh. Digging her fingers in, pulling back the skin, Eletha took hold of the broken bone and ripped it free. Orin's pained cry turned into lustful laughter.

"Yesss! YES! Make me suffer, sister!"

With the precision of a seasoned killer, Eletha rammed her makeshift dagger into Orin's throat and pushed until it came out the other side, sliding between her vertebrae.

Orin could no longer fight, but that was not where Eletha stopped.

Taking the woman's braid in one hand and pushing on her cheek with the other, she twisted Orin's head around and started to pull.

Blood pouring from the severed neck, Eletha held up the head by the braid, hair clinging to her bloody hand. Staggering to her feet, she held her prize towards Bhaal's emblem.

With wet smacks, it bounced down the stairs.

Eletha gathered a wad of blood in her mouth and spat it on the ground.

Bhaal's eyes dimmed.

Activated by the silence that came over the temple, everyone jumped to action.

As Astarion worked on picking the locks on one set of chains holding Quynn to the altar, Nei-Fonn worked on the other. Halsin caught Eletha as she started to fall, unable to keep her weight on her broken leg. Her one blue eye looked up at him, reminding him of an injured animal, scared but resigned, as he bid Silvanus heal her body.

Heilar rushed for Quynn, asking him a million times if he was okay. Zespira jogged up to Eletha, Mellia slowly trailing behind, and said to Halsin, "I can get her the rest of the way, sir. You should see to Quynn."

Halsin stopped healing, but hesitated. Eletha had gone from docile animal to stone-faced human. There probably wasn't much more that needed his expertise.

"Go on, handsome, we have her covered," Mellia cooed at him after analyzing their surroundings.

As the paladin started up her own prayers to Tyr for healing, Halsin passed her off to the vampire's waiting arms and moved on to the altar.

From the outside, Orin's victim seemed only superficially injured. Inside, well…

Astarion didn't know what he was supposed to do. He'd come expecting more of a fight than what they got. Now they could go home, with one less obstacle between them and the end of this whole ordeal.

Sensing his anxiety, Gale touched his arm. Astarion recoiled. Gale opened his mouth to apologize, his face betraying the hurt he tried to hide. But Astarion gave him his own look that said it was okay, before turning his attention to Eletha.

It wasn't long before Eletha got to her own two feet. Mellia bid Zespira to go tell the others to start leaving.

"You were spec-tacular, my friend. Absolutely divine," Mellia whispered, leaning in close to Eletha's ear. "Too bad someone else has the honor of licking you clean."

This was meant to be encouraging. The two always did have a strange relationship.

Maybe if Eletha was really there, she might have given her friend a knowing smirk.

Staggering, Eletha made for the edge of the platform, bits of bone and hair clinging to her armor and face. Blood and gore dripped off of her hands in thick globs as she lowered herself to sit. Only moving with the effort of her breath, she stared into the oblivion below.

After checking over Quynn's wounds, Heilar and Halsin tried to convince the poor boy to leave. Shaken to his core, he watched as his savior became another fixture of the grotesque scenery.

Part of him wanted to thank her, to make sure she was okay, but most of him was afraid. The stench of blood in the air whispered memories of what Orin did and planned to do to him. The things she said to him…

Eventually, he accepted their help in leaving the temple. Zespira took the lead while Mellia trailed behind.

With no apparent threat left, Gale searched the ground for Eletha's missing magic eye. Rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, he gazed deeply into the golden disc of its iris.

Chosen for its resemblance to Astarion's original eyes. Absorbing the memories of its wearer and reflecting them back. Capable of projecting illusions or creating permanent images with the help of another magical contraption. A curious thing…

Gale looked up to see Astarion watching Eletha intently. The fight had been exhilarating and teeth-clenching. The vampire had gasped in glee more than once. Perhaps it was fate, that two people so aroused by danger would find each other.

But Astarion didn't appear so tantalized now. Awash in a world of blood, he only had eyes for Eletha. Anxious scarlet eyes.

“Come, love. She clearly needs some time alone,” Gale pleaded, reaching out to touch Astarion’s shoulder. Before the two could connect, Astarion walked away in the opposite direction, as if drawn by some invisible force.

Gale took a moment to consider staying or going. But there were plans to make; the final scene of this grand play drew near and someone had to steer them towards success.

Astarion had chosen to share intimate, important moments with him. It was a little unfair to not expect him to share other such moments with her.

In silence, Astarion lowered himself beside Eletha. He expected her to say something, maybe start some sad diatribe or just snap at him to go, but nothing came. He expected the tadpole in his head to squirm and tingle as she tried to show him something, but it didn't.

Reason dictated that she was exhausted. There was still a lot of healing to be done. There was even still the slight rasp of her breathing.

He couldn't do this again. He couldn't watch her be like this again.

So Astarion knocked on that metaphorical door and let himself into whatever was going on in her head.

He was welcomed with the familiar feeling white-hot rage.

Hands plunge into a wolf’s maw and refuse to let go.

It was a young male, cast out from its pack, hunting on its own.

The air was cold and the grass crinkled, covered in frost.

The wolf was skinny and desperate.

It snarled and growled, matched by Lorelai’s own feral screams. It clawed at her, but she didn't recoil from the pain. Instead, she put all her strength into breaking the beast's jaws.

The wolf was desperate, but it chose its quarry poorly.

The two young elves were playing in the snow, making little sculptures and throwing loosely-packed snowballs at each other when the wolf charged out from the woods and snatched Astarion by the arm.

A cry pierced the air as Lorelai, filled with that white-hot rage, snapped back the wolf’s lower jaw.

It thrashed to escape, if only to die of starvation, but Lorelai could not let it live.

It tried to take away the only thing that she cared about. The only reason she was still alive.

She broke its bones so it couldn't fight. Its blood and innards steamed as she ripped it open. In the future, she would’ve killed it swiftly and efficiently. Its pelt would have fetched a pretty copper, and a diligent hand could have made use of its bones and teeth.

But all Lorelai cared about was teaching it a lesson.

Covered in blood, she came back to Astarion, so tiny in his winter coat. His little lip trembled, but he didn't cry. He wanted to be brave, like her.

The coat saved his arm from injury, but he would be sore and rest would not come easily. How many nights would he find wherever she was trancing and curl up against her side?

“It’s okay, my little Star,” Lorelai told him sweetly, opening her coat so he could crawl inside for more warmth. Bundled up in her loving arms, she carried him back to their caravan. “You’ll always be safe with me.”

Astarion, almost six, was heavy in her arms. There was more adrenaline than blood in her veins, allowing her to do the impossible to save him. Lorelai powered through as it ran its course, determined to carry her charge to safety.

Back at the caravan, they screamed at her. They accused her of putting him in danger, of being the danger. They would find the mangled wolf and declare her some abomination, perhaps a Bhaalspawn. How else could it be explained?

“She was only protecting him,” Heilar would plead on her behalf.

Lorelai had already accepted that her life was forfeit. Over before it even started.

She looked up at her teacher in adoration. The first time someone other than Astarion, in his child-like innocence, had stood up for her.

“She has a warrior’s soul. We should see her as his protector, his sword and shield.”

They saw reason. Some reason. They still punished her for placing Astarion in danger, despite the fact that children were playing throughout the woods with nary a care.

They made her kneel in the coals. Forced her head down, straining her back, her neck, until her face was between her knees, the heat making her face sweat even as snow fell from the sky. It dripped off her face and turned to steam.

She spent that night under the caravan, like a dog. Even if it wasn’t part of her punishment, she would have gone there of her own volition. She didn’t want to sleep with her parents, the people who seemed to hate her since birth. This incident only proved to strengthen their position.

Her soul was rotten and they could smell it.

In the dark, a little shape ducked under the caravan and made its way towards her, little feet padding against the dirt.

It was Astarion, carrying a pair of her socks and the pastry he liked. He’d clearly swiped the socks while being offered the pastry.

They would never punish him, their little prince. They would punish her a thousand times before raising their voices at him.

And she would let them.

Very seriously, Lorelai took the socks, unrolled them, and stuck them over her ears, much to his amusement.

Astarion held out the pastry to her.

How long since she’d eaten? She couldn't tell. Sometimes she wondered if she'd starve to death without ever feeling hunger.

“It’s yours, you should eat it,” she told him quietly, raising her hand in refusal.

Astarion walked forward until he was standing between her bent legs. Her arms were draped over her knees, the image of casual.

Much as she had to do to get him to eat his vegetables, he pressed the pastry to her lips. She relented, opening her mouth, and he put it part way in.

It was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted.

Lorelai took the other half from his hand and returned the gesture, holding back a snicker as he gobbled it up much more greedily. Still chewing, he flung himself into her body, making himself a precious egg to be wrapped up in her protective feathers.

“Someday,” he told her, inadvertently wiping the crumbs from his face on her shirt, “I’ll be strong like you.”

Lorelai wanted to cry, but she couldn’t let him see. She couldn't let him know that she felt powerless and weak.

“But I’ll protect you, no matter what,” she whispered into his curls.

They would sit like that for a bit before she had to make him leave, or else they’d punish her again.

Maybe Astarion got bigger, and maybe he got stronger, but Lorelai was true to her word. She would always protect him.

He liked to pick fights. Fair fights. Unfair fights. Stupid fights. Noble fights. Fights of wit or brawn or luck.

Most everyone knew not to go too far, especially with the “prince” involved. But not everyone was as fond of his smug face as Lorelai.

Her ears filled with the sound of snapping bones. She felt the pressure resonate up her arms as she worked. Her heart was steady. She was not filled with rage, just cold contempt as she punished the young elf who dared break Astarion’s arm.

They’d locked her up in a musty old caravan for it. One of the elders had died in it just a month prior. The lingering smell of death hadn’t quite escaped yet.

No food, only sunlight, and that she only managed to get sparingly through the cracks in the shuddered windows.

Lorelai never tried to escape from her punishments. It was easier to just accept them. She could turn herself off, like a master dropping the strings of his marionette or snuffing out a candle.

It was easier when Astarion always found a way to insert himself into the situation. That was an escape of its own.

After a few days, in the middle of the night, he picked the lock and brought her a bundle of things. Wine, some deer jerky, a napkin full of berries, and a slice of cake he’d begged his mother to make for him. Also a candle, scented with vanilla and honey, that offered a little light by which to see each other's true colors.

“My arm’s already healed,” Astarion told her with a cheeky smile, showing off the movement of the limb as if that was impressive.

In uncharacteristic fashion, Astarion insisted she eat everything he brought, even the cake. She would argue that this was why he was spindly. Even with his willowy limbs, the difference in their ages was becoming less obvious.

A few cups of wine deep, he broke the silence that surrounded them. "I'm going to ask my parents if I can have this caravan. You know, once it stops being creepy."

"It's not your turn, but they wouldn't say no," Lorelai mused aloud before taking a drink. Astarion opened another bottle. Gods, they really let him get away with anything.

Voice lowered to play up the conspiracy, he told her excitedly, "You can stay with me. Then your parents won't be breathing down your neck all the time."

Confused, Lorelai lifted an eyebrow. "Why would you want me to stay with you?"

Astarion sighed and shook his head. "Lori, how are you the second-smartest person I know and yet the dumbest?"

Scoffing under her breath, she asked, "Who's the smartest?"

"Me, of course. Do keep up."

Before putting her lips to the newly-opened wine, she remarked, "That's funny, because you are the dumbest person I know."

Somehow, he managed to keep a sharp retort to himself. After taking another large gulp of wine, he puffed himself up with courage and said very seriously, "I want you to stay with me, because I love you."

Lorelai stared at him as if he'd grown a set of horns or said "I'm becoming an ascetic."

"Wha-"

"I love you, dammit."

No one had ever said that to her before. Well, he had, but he was small and she dismissed it as child-like infatuation. She didn't really know what he meant by it. Things like love weren't made for her.

"You're supposed to say something back," Astarion told her testily when she responded with silence. From the way he was tapping his wine bottle, he was more upset than angry.

"What does it feel like? Love?" Lorelai asked with wonder and a little trepidation.

"I- What kind of question is that?" It was said out of surprise, not judgment. Still, Lorelai felt ashamed. Astarion was really good at picking up on how she felt, even if it didn't always seem like it. Much more kindly he asked, "Well, how does it feel? When you think about me?"

"I feel… a lot."

With a roll of his eyes, he muttered, "And they say I'm bad with words."

"I get excited when you show up and I'm sad when you're gone. The thought of you getting hurt makes me sick. I would do anything to make you happy, and I'd die to protect you."

"Well, that sounds a lot like love to me," Astarion said, chuckling softly. With wine-warmed hands, he reached out and touched Lorelai's ankle. "What do you feel when I touch you?"

"Star," Lorelai objected unconvincingly, moving her leg closer to her body.

"You don't like it?"

"That's not it."

He tilted his head thoughtfully. "You're allowed, you know."

"Allowed what?" she asked as he drained the last of the wine he'd brought.

"To be happy. To have fun," Astarion explained with a slight slur. Putting the empty bottle aside, leaning closer to her, he said with a coy smile, "You're more than just my shield. You might be cold and tough, but you're not a piece of steel."

Lorelai was confused. Every little bit of fun and happiness had come about because he chose to give it to her.

"Star, I don't know what you want," she admitted, her voice shaky.

"I want you to be you, Lori."

"I don't… I don't understand. Am I not me?"

"I know you're in there, hiding from them," Astarion said sweetly, his hot breath tickling the skin of her face as he inched closer. "I know you're more than a blade. You're not a monster. You're mine. The only one who really sees me."

Without her realizing, he had crawled between her legs and trapped her against the side of the caravan. Lorelai's insides clenched, spreading heat and tension all throughout her body. The only similar feeling had been when she sprang into action to protect him.

"H-how?" she whispered, his body taking up most of her vision, his hands braced on either side of her. "How can I let you see me?"

"Just… do what comes natural."

With that, Astarion closed the gap and pressed his wine-stained lips against hers, firmly but tenderly.

Lorelai tried to gasp from the sudden sensation. Her heart hammered against her ribcage. 

Surrounded by the scent of vanilla and death, it was the best moment of her life.

Pulling away, Astarion's golden eyes gazed into hers with an intensity she'd never seen before in the young elf.

"I love you," she said breathlessly, her lips tingling. It had come out naturally, an impulse she didn't push back down like so many others.

His eyes widened a little bit before softening. Apparently, her reaction was satisfactory.

"There you are." In the distant future, when his voice stopped changing so much, it would be said smoothly, resonating in her spine, tickling her insides. It didn't matter that it didn't always come out the way he wanted, she was putty in his hands when he spoke that way to her.

This time, Lorelai initiated the kiss. Her hands ran over his neck, one going to his hair while the other cupped his cheek. The caravan filled with the sound of their heavy breathing and their clothing sliding against the wooden floor.

Breaking apart, eyes half-lidded, Astarion backed away only to make room to grab her by the belt and pull her away from the wall.

Her head smacked against the floor with a soft thud. She chuckled, to let him know it hadn't hurt that much, but he still sobered up enough to search for a small pillow to place under her head.

Once she was comfortable, Astarion lowered himself on top of her, hips nestled between her legs, his hands under her shoulders.

Lorelai only knew what sex was because of the animals they kept or what she was taught about best hunting practices. It was never something for her. But animals didn't need to be taught, they just did it.

So she laid back and did whatever felt natural. That couldn't be too difficult.

It was exciting to peel the clothing off of each other. In the next year, his muscles would start to fill out and a thin layer of fat would make his body nice to squeeze and be squeezed by.

Just his touch made her moan and sigh, but feeling his naked body against hers was enough to make her worry about being too loud. Everything sent electricity through her body.

First times were always so awkward. After a few years of practice, they'd look back and giggle about how everything went wrong, how they were thinking about it too much.

Astarion bit the meaty part of her shoulder to quiet himself as he pushed his way inside her. One hand on his shoulder blade, the other on the small of his back, Lorelai tried to focus on her breathing. Her heart felt ready to burst.

"Are you… okay?" he whispered near her ear, boyish worry in his voice.

"I've never… done this…" she admitted, a little embarrassed. Astarion pressed his face into her cheek, like a substitute hug.

"Me neither. But I have thought about it a lot lately."

They moved on instinct, which was all they had to go by. Not knowing what it was supposed to feel like, Lorelai let him do whatever came to his mind while her hands wandered his skin and hair.

It had felt weird for a few thrusts before Astarion growled in frustration and collapsed on top of her.

She might not have any idea what sex was supposed to feel like, but she was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to be frustrated.

"Did I… do something wrong?" she asked hesitantly.

"Don't say that," Astarion answered sharply. With another sigh, he calmed down. "It's not you. You're perfect. I don't know what's wrong. It just… doesn't want to work."

"Oh." With experience, she would understand that it was a mix of wine and nerves. His poor anatomy never stood a chance. "It's okay. It was nice anyway."

"Really?" he asked hopefully. "You're not just saying that?"

"It seems like an unpleasant experience for animals, so the fact that I want to do this again probably means it was good."

"Gods, Your Majesty, can you be normal? For once?" Astarion asked with a laugh. Taking one knee out from between her legs, he laid down on his side next to her. Head propped up on one hand, he smiled down at her. "I'm only joking. I like that you're weird."

The caravan was warm from their bodies, but it would eventually get cold. Staring up at the ceiling, hands folded over her sweaty stomach, Lorelai said, "Our parents are going to kill me if they find out about this."

"I'll kill them first." Just enough to annoy her, he tugged on the tip of her ear. "Better yet, we can leave."

She dismissed the notion with a roll of her eyes. "You're too young to leave."

Holding up a finger, he retorted, "Some day, I won't be."

"They won't let you."

"Let me? Like they have a choice." Astarion looked around at the caravan. "This life is too small for me."

"They think you're going to usher in some golden age for elves. Take over all of Faerûn."

"While that is grand, I think we can agree that they're maybe a little delusional." Lorelai's eyes flicked to him and then back to the ceiling several times. "What do you want to say?"

"I don't know. It's just… It's nothing."

"What? You have to tell me. I am the tease, not you."

"When I have my reveries… There's usually someone else there, with me. And they always feel really important and… they make me feel the way you do."

"Oh? So we've been lovers in our other lives as well?" He smiled a devilish smile, full of mischief and delight. "Tell me. You never talk about this stuff."

"It's usually full of… blood and guts. Battles. There's this sword…" She stopped, feeling uncertain. But Astarion had said he wanted to see her, the real parts of her. "I think they're right. I'm just… a weapon. All I know how to do is kill and destroy."

"Anything can be a weapon. I could kill you with that pillow if I wanted," he pointed out. "They just don't understand how much you love me. It takes a lot of love to kill a wolf with your bare hands."

Lorelai's eyes went wide with surprise and her stomach twisted into nervous knots. "You remember that?"

"Of course I do. You were like a hero out of a bard's tale. I think I would've chosen you over my own mother after that, even if you can't cook to save your life."

"How can I learn to cook when all they give me is a piece of bread…"

"I'm telling you, we could leave. Tonight!"

"Tonight's almost over."

"Tomorrow then!"

Lorelai sighed. "Astarion…"

"We're going to leave. Eventually. Because we deserve better."

In ten years, when their parents were called to Highmoon to participate in some discussions about Cormanthyr, Astarion would try to make his escape. Except this time, he left a note for Lorelai.

This grand plan to run away got mucked up by Astarion being kidnapped, targeted for his fine clothing.

The grand plan ended with Heilar and their parents finding Lorelai surrounded by the severed limbs of his attackers. Drenched in their blood, she softly sang his favorite song while he made hysteric apologies to her, sobbing into his hands and shaking like a leaf.

This was the dark thing. The thing that haunted her all her life.

Were her parents, who’d she always considered fanatics, lost in the past and forsaking the future, right?

Was she just a rotten thing, driven by pain and blood?

Was she any different from Orin, whose blood was drying on her face as her memories unfolded to Astarion much more clearly than her journals could ever explain?

Eletha always told herself that she didn’t enjoy it. That she fought to protect. There was no pleasure in killing that wolf or bashing a would-be rapist’s head again and again and again against the Waterdhavian cobblestones as his victim watched in horror.

She was a sword. One didn’t blame the sword for the lives it took. It was just a thing.

Eletha stood in front of those adventurers, wide-eyed and hopeful, and saw herself as the mad dog at the front of their war machine, while they saw her as their warrior queen, leading them to glorious victory.

“No use hanging around here. Let’s go,” Astarion said after the connection broke. “I'm sure there are some reasons it's sad that it ended this way, but no one's going to call you a monster for killing Orin.”

Like an obedient old dog, Eletha got to her feet and followed.

“Maybe don’t overthink it,” he tried to say reassuringly. “Personally, I enjoy a little murder and bloodshed, and not once did I worry I was some crazed killer. Sure, she put some panache on it-”

Astarion continued to talk, but his words meant nothing to her. As he gained mastery over the art of language, it was always his wont to fill their silences with words, some useful, most not. Maybe it was because he liked the sound of his own voice, maybe he thought it made her feel better.

Either way, she always let him talk to his heart’s content.

When they managed to find their way back to the Elfsong, despite the fact that someone definitely should have called the Fists on them, it occurred to Astarion that Eletha was in serious need of a bath.

"Well, my dear, hop to it," he said cheerily, waving at the empty tub in the shared washroom.

Eletha merely stared at it silently. Astarion deflated as he started to come to terms with things.

"Hmm… Yes, perhaps I should… fill it up for you?" he asked with uncertainty. This part wasn't really in his wheelhouse.

After filling the bath with buckets of cold water, he once again gestured to the bath. "Go on, then."

Once again, out of her one blue eye, Eletha stared at nothing.

"Of course you would make this more difficult." Astarion took a deep breath and sighed. "Fine. I will get to it, I suppose. Can't have you going around like this…"

As he did his damnedest to unbuckle and unlace her armor, Gale arrived with a change of clothes.

After watching Astarion struggle for a bit, he frowned. "Here. Let me help."

"Oh, good, someone who knows what they're doing." Astarion removed his own blood-splattered armor and clothing, watching with interest as Gale diligently worked. "Can't you just… magic us clean? You did it before."

"Prestidigitation is no substitute for the healing nature of a good bath," Gale explained, a small amount of pleasure in his voice before he returned to the gruesome task of peeling off clothing glued to skin by blood.

Behind him, Astarion slipped into the cold bath and sat with the water up to his neck. "You're right. This is much nicer."

After freeing Eletha from her sticky burden, Gale put a hand in the water. His brows furrowed in disappointment. "Astarion. This water is frigid."

"So? She won't notice. Look at her." Gale's withering glare proved to melt Astarion's spine, causing him to sink deeper up to his nose.

After turning the water warm with a quick spell, Gale helped Eletha into the bath. Wetting her hair and scrubbing it with a fragrant soap, Gale asked, "Anything of note happen while you were alone?"

"I really was expecting Bhaal's voice to boom out and demand a champion, but no," Astarion explained as he lifted his head out of the water. Putting some soap on a sponge, he mindlessly took one of Eletha's hands and started scrubbing it. "She shared some memories with me. Well, I started it. She might still be in that grim place if I hadn't told her to come back."

"What were they about?" Astarion told them as best he could as the two of them washed their catatonic love. "I always assumed that what haunted her was Quynn."

"She ripped a woman's head off with her bare hands, Gale."

"Well, yes, that is quite correct."

"Of course I am."

"Do you want to talk about what's making you so hostile?"

"No." Astarion was having trouble cleaning under her fingernails. No matter what he did, there was still more to dig out. Giving up, he huffed. "Why is she like this? She should be… jumping up and down with glee."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because she's not a Bhaalspawn like she feared. She's just… a-"

"A sword? Yes, I'm sure that's comforting. Perhaps she thought being a Bhaalspawn would be a much easier explanation. Rather than it just being her nature."

"It's your nature to be an annoying know-it-all. It's my nature to be a dashing rogue, beloved by all. Is it really so bad, to be a one-woman killing machine? Look at Karlach."

"Karlach grew up with parents who loved her, not a whole family making her eat hot ashes." Gale hummed. "Well. Not a great analogy. Tieflings can eat hot ash…"

"The last time I questioned what we'd do, I thought we were dealing with a hysteric. What do we do with her now?"

Gale stopped cleaning her ears and stroked her clean cheek. "Letha, my love, you can talk to us. We're not upset."

Indignantly, because he wasn't consulted, Astarion added, "I'm a little upset."

"Okay, Astarion is a little upset, but when isn't he?" After cleaning his hands, Gale produced her magic eye. "Here. Let's put this back. We don't want you losing it, now, do we?"

Very carefully, he inserted the eye and watched as it shifted into the correct position in its socket. He was hoping that it would elicit a response.

"Well, at least we don't have to deal with her empty eye socket anymore."

"Maybe… Maybe she'll be better in the morning. She must be exhausted. Halsin actually went straight to sleep when he got back. That was a lot to heal…"

As if on cue, Eletha's lungs rasped as she took in a deep breath.

"I suppose Melliana was proven right. You could break her legs and she would keep going," Astarion said, standing from the bath. With a little admiration he added, "Also, apparently: puncture her lung, gouge out an eye, and stab her repeatedly in the guts."

Chapter Text

In the morning, Eletha was gone. Fearing the worst, Gale flew into a panic. Astarion sauntered into it.

But the drama of it all was short-lived. Heilar waited for them in the inn's common room.

"I came to take Eletha's place," he told them respectfully, giving a deferential bow.

"Take her place-" Gale started worriedly. In the same way Eletha would do, Heilar waved his hand to bat aside the thought Gale was spinning. 

"She showed up at the safehouse. Just… sat down and started meditating."

"Meditating?"

"Her friend, the vampire. She said Eletha was communicating with something," Heilar tried to explain, but it was obviously beyond him. "I'm not sure of the how or what. But she seemed to consider it all in hand."

"Well… nothing we can do, I suppose," Astarion said flippantly, shrugging as he walked away with the others. Gale and Heilar took up the rear.

The swordmaster had never met anyone who could out-talk Astarion.

Back at the Wandering Star safehouse, Aluin and Mellia stood on the roof, staring down at a motionless Eletha.

Every now and then, the dark parasol covering Mellia's head spun, sending the beaded fringe out in a whirl, distributing the subtle smoke that wafted from her skin when the sun briefly touched it.

Unbothered by the holy rays, Eletha sat on the gritty stone. Across her lap was the new sword Brom brought her. When night eventually fell, its glow would be more obvious.

"I have never met an elf who cared so much about their past life," Mellia commented with a mix of sadness and fondness.

"Her whole clan was obsessed with the concept."

"They also treated her like shit."

"Yes, that is probably more of it…" Aluin crouched down so he could place a hand on one of Eletha's, holding the naked edge of her sword. "I hope you find what you are looking for."

Mellia crouched down beside him. In a soothing, loving voice, she said, "Ellie, love. No matter what you find, know this. You've done more than enough. People love you. Everyone makes mistakes. I'm sorry that you feel responsible for the mistakes of others. Your birth was not a mistake, it is a gift to the rest of us."

Aluin watched for any sign that this had an impact. Elves maintained awareness during their meditation, but what Eletha was doing seemed… deep. "Do you think she heard?"

"She better have, if she knows what's good for her."

The next day, Gale came to the Wandering Star to check on Eletha. All that was left of their journey was to defeat Gortash and finally assault the Absolute.

They collectively agreed that they should give their leader a chance to come to her senses.

Of all the things he expected, Quynn hanging around the hideout was not one of them.

"I take it you couldn't find a way out of the city," Gale said conversationally after being acknowledged with respect instead of the bitterness that would have been perfectly acceptable.

"Master and I decided that we would stay and help," Quynn answered, uncrossing his arms and taking his feet off of the chair in front of him. Gale sat in the spot instead. "Never hunted Illithids before. Might look good to have a few kills under my belt."

"Mm, yes, I imagine that makes for an impressive portfolio. Having a vampire for a father, though, I'm unsure." Before Gale could apologize for putting his foot in his mouth, Quynn chuckled. Exactly the same way Astarion did when he found something funny despite not wanting to. Gale refrained from putting the other foot in regarding this fact. "So. You're here. Of all places."

"It's secure and…" After a moment of internal debate, Quynn's shoulders sagged and his face lost its practiced hardness. "Full of stories."

With a smile and no small amount of admiration, Gale agreed, "Yes. Much like a wizard of renown, Eletha has garnered quite a bit of buzz."

Uncertainly, unable to actually look Gale in the eye, Quynn started haltingly, "Can I… ask you something?"

"I will endeavor to have an answer for you."

"What do you like about my parents?"

"Oh!" Gale chuckled nervously.

"Not in a… 'I need to know you're good for them' way."

"Of course. Well." Gale started to think and then laughed again. "Having no immediate answer is not the ringing endorsement I was hoping to give."

A soft laugh escaped Quynn's lips as he smiled ever-so-slightly. "It might be an odd question, coming from their estranged adult son."

"You could not be more right. When it comes to Eletha… she's ruthless , but kind. Protective to a fault. Knowledgeable and intelligent, which are not always present in the same person.

"As for Astarion… A feast of oxymorons, hm? Witty, with moments of empty-headedness. Sweet, but wicked. Soft and romantic, much to his own chagrin.

"They're both a bit dangerous. Yet, they've been through so much and manage to keep forging ahead. It has given me the courage to do the same. 

"Do not let me fool you, there are more reasons than stars in the sky. Some of them I should certainly keep close to the vest."

Nodding, Quynn absorbed his answer. Gale interrupted his thoughts with a question of his own. "Have you gone to see her?"

"I… considered it. If only to thank her for saving me from-" Quynn stopped suddenly, biting the inside of his cheek instead.

"Our journey has been a trying one. I am sorry that you were pulled into it."

"That's what happens, when your parents are heroes, right?"

Gale grinned at him. "Give yourself more credit. Your teacher had only praises to sing of you during our time together."

Even that did not lighten the self-doubt Quynn was feeling. "I'm not sure anything I've done compares."

"There's still time."

Gale got to his feet and started to walk away. He stopped at the sound of Quynn standing as well. With an outstretched hand, Quynn told him rather shyly, "If we all make it out of this… I think it would be a good idea for us to stay in touch."

Gale smiled as he shook Quynn's hand. "A powerful wizard is a good ally indeed. And they can usually do with the help of an experienced monster hunter."

Quynn scoffed, in good nature, under his breath. "Yeah. Something like that."

He was already halfway up the stairs when he realized that perhaps Quynn was talking to him more as a half-step to his parents and less as a fellow adventurer aiming to save the world.

Mystra save him.

Motionless save for the slow rising and falling of her chest, Eletha sat cross legged on the roof of the order's hideout. Sun, rain, night, she sat. In her hands rested her sword, its central gem pulsing with light.

At different points, Gale, Aluin, and Nei-Fonn attempted to find some discernible pattern in the pulse, but no one could find any meaning in it.

That first day, Gale caught Mellia and Aluin sitting around her, a parasol keeping the sun off of the vampire. The sound of their friendly conversation gave him hope.

"So many people care about you, Elle," Aluin said gently. He tried to place a hand on her arm, but an arc of magic leapt from the sword struck him.

"Listen, you old goat. You're worthy of love. You deserve to live. Who cares if you're also a scary murder machine? I've never seen you skin someone who didn't deserve it."

"Are you two… quite alright?" Gale asked once he realized that Eletha was not engaging them in conversation.

"Win got the bright idea that she needs motivation to come back out of this… super trance."

Gale hummed. "I suppose that isn't the worst theory."

When they left to see to other matters, Gale sat with Eletha after affixing a more permanent shade and procuring a seat for himself.

Thoughtfully, he asked the air, "What are you doing, I wonder?"

Apparently word spread, because various people, some he didn't even recognize, came up to the roof to pay their respects. As if she was a living statue of a god, they sat before her and recounted their most powerful memories of her. It felt oddly intimate, like listening to the prayers of the needy and brokenhearted.

At the end of the last day they would wait, Astarion ascended the stairs and came to stand beside Gale.

"She's going to miss all the fun," he pointed out sarcastically, but Gale could tell that he was concerned. When Gale would finally come back to the Elfsong at the end of the day, he noticed the man acting strange. 

Cupping his hands around his mouth, Astarion false-called at her, "You're being a real drip!"

Gale placed a hand on Astarion's shoulder. Astarion leaned into the touch, a much more reassuring reaction than the last time Gale had tried to touch him.

"Perhaps you should take a moment to talk to her," he suggested gently.

"Why?" Astarion asked after a scoff. "Like 'true love's kiss'?"

"Even if it does not guide her out of this deep meditation, it might help you to talk about whatever you may be feeling."

Gale had a point, Astarion gave him that. Even after all of his little revelations and victories, Astarion still felt a heaviness when it came to his past.

Some of that heaviness hung from his belt. Pulling her glowing pendant from a pouch, Astarion knelt before her. He felt its cold surface with his bare thumb. Long ago, he'd made a sketch of this very thing and had a jeweler make it, just to give to her.

Now, both anew, he would give it to her once more.

"I'm sorry," Astarion told her honestly, unashamed but regretful. She wouldn't want him to feel shame, not for this. "That I don't remember you. Or all of those happy memories you so obviously see when you look at me.

"But I thank you. You were there from the start, for my first life… and this one. There is no doubt in my mind that, despite all my flaws, you would fight a god to protect me- protect us," he corrected, looking towards Gale, who was likely on the edge of tears if his big round eyes were any indication. With a chuckle, he added, "And knowing you, you'd likely win."

Astarion undid the clasp on the pendant and leaned forward to place it around her neck. His hands delicately ran along the chain as he pulled away, making sure it hung perfectly against her chest.

Focusing on it, trying to rip the memory of it out of the deep recesses of his mind, he whispered, "No one will tell us what we are or what to do, ever again."

He heard Gale let out a surprised gasp.

The gentle touch of her hands on his face registered before the realization that she was staring right at him.

Mismatched eyes, one as golden as his once were, pinned him with a look of such love and longing that luck would have it that he didn't need the breath that was stolen from him.

"I understand now," Eletha said, her first words in days.

After ripping off Orin's head and dropping it at Bhaal's metaphorical feet, Eletha was as numb and hollow as she'd ever been in her long life. She didn't even feel that way once her parents released her from their control and let her flee.

All that remained was a voice, nagging in her ear.

It wasn't The Emperor, that was clear. Now that Bhaal was behind them, she set aside the lifelong worry that she was one of his bloodlusting spawn.

The voice felt familiar, as if it was her own. Ever-changing, whispering words she didn't understand at times. It wasn't insidious or even obnoxious. It comforted, but didn't entice. 

Still, something was pulling on her, like the moon changing the tides.

Her two favorite people took care of her, but she was only aware of it like she was aware of a city she'd never visited. Distant. Foreign. Impersonal.

Despite the light, nothing had no color. It blackened at the edges, slowly shrinking her world to a tiny little point.

Eventually, that little point became black, edged in crumbling grays.

Her skin was neither warm from the bath nor cold from Astarion's chilled breath. No longer did Gale's idle chit-chat buzz in her ears.

The Elfsong was gone, replaced by the boundless expanse of her inner world.

Still numb, Eletha stared down into the deep pit. Was it bigger or smaller than usual?

How many times had she fallen in, only to catch herself on the edge and claw her way out? There would be that brief moment of relief as she gave in, felt weightless, unburdened by what the world placed on her shoulders. 

But inevitably, she would be afraid once more of what it meant to join all the horrible things she put in there. The brutal girl. The unloving mother. The unflinching scion of justice.

It had always been there. It was there before Quynn. Before the wolf.

The memory of it came back to her. Astarion hadn't been born yet. Back then, the pit was a laughably small thing, no bigger than her head.

That was right, she used to come here when her parents made her feel like a burden. She found her way into this place and laid down beside the curious hole.

But why?

Eletha tried to remember, groped around in her deepest memories for the answer.

A voice. A voice called to her from that hole, singing songs she didn't understand but sounded familiar. Little Lorelai laid down, her tiny heart breaking, and listened to that song.

It made her feel special. Wanted. Loved.

Only once did something come out of the hole that didn't fill her with dread.

A hand, delicate and beautiful, subtly aglow. It stroked her curls, back when her hair grew long enough to curl.

When did she become afraid of it?

Astarion was born. Suddenly, it mattered so much that she was there for him. That she kept him safe. That she didn't fail. And then he was gone.

The pit was pain, but it had once been the only good thing in her life.

Suddenly, Eletha knew peace. Resolve. It washed over her like heavy summer rain.

"Fuck this," Eletha said to herself. Not bitter, not angry. "I am choosing not to be afraid anymore."

Eletha took a few steps back.

And then launched herself forward towards the darkness.

A beastly roar filled her ears, but true to her word, she was unafraid.

Darkness enveloped her.

Boots hit solid ground. The world, full of color, burst forth from under her feet.

The roar was the sound of many voices, raised in a cheer.

She had been here before, in her early reveries. But back then, it was hazy, an impression. What had once felt like a battle, was actually a celebration. Flames were fluttering banners. Screams were choruses. Burning flesh was a feast.

"Are you going to spend the entire evening ignoring me?" an elf said in her direction. The sound was melodic, but odd, as if the words she heard were not the words said, instead layered on top of sounds she couldn't parse.

The elf was resplendent. Androgynous, beautiful, poised. Golden eyes. White curls.

The others around them, also elves, were much more plainly dressed. This was… yes, it must be some sort of war camp. The elves that passed, flowing around them like a river around boulders, had the bearing of soldiers.

The elf that spoke to her was much more finely dressed.

"Heart of hearts, have I upset you?" they asked, confident expression faltering. "I know I annoyed you before, but you must know, that was merely banter."

"I am… lost," Eletha said involuntarily, even if it was true. This vision had a script and she had no choice but to say her lines. "I do not know what to do."

The beautiful elf sighed and tutted. A touch of their hand sent electricity through Eletha's body.

"Silly thing, you are supposed to be happy!"

A deep sadness, whose origin escaped her, made her insides ache. "I almost lost you."

"But you didn't. Because you were there for me. And you never fail to protect me."

Their lips touched, so tender and warm. A gentle perfume filled her nose.

"Come," the elf whispered against her mouth, pitching down a little, sending another jolt up her spine. "Let us celebrate our victory, just the two of us."

The elf stepped away, taking their warmth with them. Eletha followed several steps behind.

The tent her guide slipped into was more like a pavilion, with curtains creating rooms inside. The elf bid her wait as they got ready, leaving her alone. With the many cushions and rugs on the floor, she figured this was where they rested.

"I am glad you finally came," a deep voice said from behind. Eletha whirled around, reaching for a sword that wasn't there, but there was no attacker.

Just a mirror.

An elf looked back at her. Clearly male. Loose white curls. Brilliant blue eyes, flecked with gold. The elf in the mirror was dressed in a regal-looking uniform.

He was smiling, knowingly.

"For a long time, I wanted you to know that I understand," he said, his voice layered on top of words she didn't understand. Words she was… starting to understand. "It is a difficult calling."

"What do you mean?" Eletha whispered, slowly and softly stepping closer to the mirror. Being an adventurer gave her a healthy habit of not trusting beautiful creatures in mirrors saying sweet things. "What 'calling'?"

"Living for another. Doing whatever is necessary. I, too, found it difficult at times."

"I don't understand."

The elf tilted his head. "Don't you?"

"Elethanor, who are you talking to?" the first elf called out from wherever they'd gone.

"Just my reflection, star of stars," the elf in the mirror said for her. If the first had found the change in voices odd, they didn't say anything.

She realized then, that she'd heard the voice before.

In her ear after Bromthrum gave her that damned sword.

Singing to her, from a tiny little hole in a gray world.

"Why?" she asked under her breath. "Why am I this way?"

"As the moon has its dark side, so too must every blessing," the reflection explained.

Anger flared in Eletha's heart. A string of insults was ready to be spat in rapid fire off her tongue.

"Is your blood still running hot, my sweet?" All of the tension ran out of Eletha's body, the voice a balm on her wounded soul.

Looking up, the wind was knocked out of her.

Dressed in something flowy and gauzy, her star of stars stood awaiting praise. He, she could now tell, was absolutely and completely stunning.

His cheeks flushed and he grinned despite his attempts to remain cool and collected. "How it thrills me to know that the sight of me still silences you after all of this time."

The mole she had disregarded before. The scar in the same place as a birthmark above his hip. The ribbon in his hair.

"My Little Star…" she breathed in disbelief.

Reaching out, she cupped his soft face. Sighing, he leaned into it, completely and utterly relaxed.

"Oh, what would I do without you, my sword and shield?"

Eletha desperately tried to remember his name, the one she said in a voice not her own, but in the end, it didn't matter. From then on, in any form, he was her brightest star.

"I will protect you. Until everything is dust and ash."

She wanted to drink in the comfort of being with some version of him that still remembered that they spent a whole life together, but that wish fell on deaf ears. Just as it had started, the vision ended, replaced by darkness.

Looking up, all she could see was a single point of light shining from high above.

When she closed her eyes and opened them again, she would be greeted with some other life. She had seen them before, through glimpses and impressions. Before, they made her uncomfortable. Now she basked in the warmth of love and devotion.

One last time, she closed her eyes.

"Give it back."

Eletha snapped around towards the sound. As she turned, the darkness bled into another scene.

"I will give it back," she started, saying the words without understanding their purpose, "if you give me something in return."

A forest, ancient, reeking of magic. She could have sworn the roots of the trees were moving like snakes, writhing under the dirt.

The unfamiliar voice chuckled, amused. "What do you wish for, my cousin?"

"To always be there when my star of stars chooses to be reborn, so that I might always protect him," she answered firmly, the request practiced.

No, this scene was familiar. She'd come to a forest much like this one. Made a request.

"Very well," the voice conceded after some thought. "So it will be. Now, give it back."

"I will. Someday. When I tire of my charge."

The voice growled, furious about being tricked.

"It seems you are cursed twice over," another voice said in her ear. Eletha spun around once more.

The thing standing before her was undoubtedly a fey, but it was like a smear on a mirror, its features indistinct.

"For a price, I can remove one," it explained, somewhat humorously. "Just give back what you stole, and it will be over. No more pain. No more rebirth. You do realize, yes?"

The forest around them rattled with a resounding roar.

"A life of pain, all because of a silly promise."

She'd failed. Failed her oath, made to her own personal god.

"It's rotting you from the inside out."

Her parents. Quynn. That was personal pain. It was a burden, it weighed on her.

"It's rotting your very soul."

But Astarion died. That was deep pain. Pain that went back thousands of years, who knew how many lives?

"Don't you owe it to those who love you? To your future lives?"

That was the thorn hidden deep in her paw. The tip of a knife still lodged in her bones. A worm wriggling through her brain.

She failed him. She wasn't enough.

"Just say it," the fey whispered, almost lustfully. "Say it, and the pain is gone."

Eletha took a deep breath.

She had been aware of all the things people said to her. It felt ludicrous, to be lavished with praises and love when she so clearly didn't deserve it. But… it was selfish, to ignore the way they felt. 

"Understand what?" Gale asked, forgetting that he had the knees of a man three times his age as he knelt on the stones next to Astarion.

"That it's not my fault," Eletha answered, beads of tears welling up in her eyes and cascading down her cheeks. "Once more, I waited for you. As I always have."

"What are you saying, exactly?" Astarion asked uncertainly, elated and concerned by how she smiled and weeped at the same time. Such an exquisite pain.

"I was waiting. For that day on the beach. Where the nautiloid crashed."

Concern and happiness gave way to a rising annoyance. "You're not making sense."

"Eletha, Lorelai, Elethanor…" she whispered to herself, holding a hand to her chest, pressing the glowing pendant into her flesh. To think, she had once been as beautiful as him, was able to shine just as brightly. Then, placing the hand on his chest, her brows furrowed with a look of deep concentration. "Astarion, Astarion… Calenath."

"I think you've been meditating too long, my dear," Astarion said, taking her by the wrist and gently tugging her hand away from him.

"Those are very old eladrin names," Gale said academically, hand-on-chin.

Astarion shook his head. "You are taking her too seriously. This is it; she's finally lost it."

"No," Eletha denied sharply. No, she wasn't cracked. By Corellon's balls and breasts, he never understood. "No, I told you, I understand now. Lorelai died, because Astarion died. That's how it always is. But. But Astarion didn't die."

"This is a weak defense against the 'insane' allegations."

"You didn't die, but you did," she argued, ignoring his attitude. Gale listened intently, trying to understand her. "Lorelai died, but she didn't. Lorelai became Eletha. Something new, but the same. Sudryl-"

"Who's 'Sudryl'?" Astarion whispered incredulously. Gale shushed him. Eletha spoke over him anyway.

"-became Lorelai. And on and on until Corellon's blood became Elethanor.

"Astarion became you. The same, but different. Elenya became Astarion. Corellon's blood-"

"-became Calenath," Gale finished for her. Eletha looked at him with such brightness that he forgot the pain in his knees or the ache in his heart.

For once, someone else understood.

"Always in pairs," he explained for Astarion's benefit. "Always a shield for a star. Two souls, in a never-ending dance of death and rebirth."

"Until the world is nothing but dust and ash," she said with a grin that spread from ear-to-ear. "That's it. There is no monster. Only-"

"-the all-consuming pain of love."

"Isn't it terrifying?" Eletha asked Gale, tears of pure joy rolling down her cheeks still. Holding his face, she whispered, "Isn't it beautiful? You are a part of it."

"I have never been more ready to die tomorrow…" Astarion muttered under his breath.

"I have so much more I want to say to you both, but I have something I need to do," Eletha said hurriedly before placing a kiss on Gale's lips and a quick peck on Astarion's cheeks. Before they could react, she was rushing into the tower.

"Do I have to worry about you too?" Astarion asked Gale as he got to his feet and offered the wizard a helping hand.

"There is no need for worry. About either of us."

"Did you not hear the same things I did?"

"Astarion, give yourself some credit. You are much smarter than that."

"I just heard the manic ramblings of a fanatic."

"I think you are having difficulty with some minor details. It might help if you thought of yourself as 'Astarion, the Vampire' and then the other Astarion is 'Astarion, the Elf.'" Astarion started to argue but Gale just rushed him along back into the tower. "Think about it. I want to see what she's up to."

They caught up to Eletha on the second floor, in a room filled with silence.

Standing around were Eletha's oldest friends: Mellie, Aluin, Brom, and Lumin. With them were Zespira, Heilar, and Quynn.

In Zespira's hands was a tray, laden with brooches. Mellie was holding one in her gloved hands, poised to pin it to the breast of Quynn's jerkin. It was of a silvery-steel, made up of a star, an elven longsword, and a bow.

The first to speak was Zespira.

"We decided on a design," the paladin said hopefully, although a bit nervously as well. "Your blacksmith friend, Dammon? He started making them out of that metal from the Watchers. He said he wanted to work on his ornamentation."

No one else spoke as they watched Eletha deliberately approach. Mellia placed the brooch in Eletha's outstretched hand.

She considered it, running her thumb over the details.

Then she looked up into Quynn's eyes.

He started a little. His jaw set and then unclenched.

"You want to join?" Eletha asked him curiously.

"Yes."

Eletha's head tilted ever so slightly to the side. "Why?"

Quynn's strong posture faltered. He thought about it for a second before saying, "Because the world needs more shields."

Eletha considered his words. Really absorbed them.

Nodding to herself, accepting his reason, she went to hand the brooch back to Mellia.

"It would be an honor," Quynn managed to begin before she let go, "if it was you."

And so he held his breath, so as to remain still, while her fingers slipped behind the collar of his jerkin and secured the brooch there.

After making sure it looked right, Eletha offered him her right hand.

Sparing it a confused glance before looking back with firm determination, Quynn took it, and squeezed.

"It is my honor to be here with you today," Eletha said with all the poise of a general. Perhaps a king.

Zespira opened her mouth to claim that Quynn was the first to receive a brooch and it would mean a lot if she could stay and bequeath the rest, but Heilar swiftly took hold of her shoulders and guided her away with the others, leaving Quynn and Eletha alone.

"I wanted to thank you, for saving me," Quynn told her after fiddling with the new addition to his wardrobe.

"Of course," Eletha said flippantly, as if he was thanking her for picking up last night's tab. "I mean… I'm sorry that you got caught up in this."

"Mother- I mean. Your mother? My grandmother?" Quynn laughed at his own befuddlement and she laughed along with him. "She said you killed a wolf with your bare hands? I never believed her. Until then."

"It took Astarion. Snatched him right in front of me." Her smile faltered, realizing she shouldn't be proud.

"Mm, I didn't know that. That was very brave of you." Eletha looked away and… sniffled. Quynn cocked his head. "Did… no one ever tell you that?"

"I always thought that I…" Eletha shook her head and laughed. "I'll find you some better gear. And you have good footwork."

She couldn't blame him for his sudden confusion. Barely-sensical sequiturs were common when she got flustered. 

"What?"

"When we fought. Your feet were good, but you couldn't keep up. You should train with Nei-Fonn, if you get the chance. She's ferocious. And if Elijah shows up, he fights about the same as me. And you should definitely meet Candle in the Dark. She's the only one who beats me in pure martial prowess." She chuckled and rubbed the spot over a hidden scar. "Okay. Well. There was that one drow…"

"Did you…" Quynn lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Did you meet Drizzt Do'Urden?"

"You really are Astarion's son. I didn't know you could inherit crushes." Quynn pinkened. "I'll tell you my Drizzt story if we all live."

With an exchange of respectful nods, Eletha left to go back to what she'd originally sought out to do.

But she ran into Heilar instead.

"That went better than I expected," he said to her, proud. "I think… he would be alright, if you just respected each other."

Despite the obvious compliment and positive reinforcement, Eletha still felt ashamed. "Respect I can do. Mother hen to a bunch of adventurers has been more my speed."

"You do it well, from what I've seen."

With a deep breath, she pushed away her negative feelings. "I want… to thank you. For trying to protect me so long ago. And for taking care of him."

Heilar hung his head a little. "I wish I could have done more."

"Well, there's still time."

She walked over to Lumin. He grinned at her and made to say something.

Eletha put her fist in his gut instead. With him curled around it, she leaned in towards his ear and whispered something into it.

Despite the pain undoubtedly radiating from his stomach, the half-drow actually laughed.

Satisfied, she quickly pinned those present with their new emblem, taking the time to say at least one thing about the recipient that she was proud about.

When done, she approached her lovers. Giddiness to see them turned into shyness. "Can we, uh, get out of here? I'm feeling a little watched."

Gale, too, felt inspected. "Right. We should get back to the tavern."

On the way back, she fidgeted with the hilt of her sword or the rings in her ears.

"Just tell me already," Astarion said in annoyance to Gale, who walked at his side. Gale, previously lost in thought, asked for clarification. "This whole… 'a never-ending dance of two souls' thing that you think I should understand."

Gale's brows knit together. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Not really, no."

"It is no leap of logic that 'Elethanor' was her first soul's name and 'Calenath' was yours. We can then assume that you were reincarnated at roughly the same times, although how many times or how far apart is uncertain. That progressed up through 'Sudryl' and 'Elenya', your previous incarnations. Then Lorelai was born a few years before Astarion, the Elf. Now, for Astarion, the Vampire, there is Eletha Nightstar.

"The changing of elven names is probably not so symbolic, but I think it was important for it to be realized."

"Not entirely sure how that drives one mad."

"It's practically a fairytale. Long ago, the Shield of Stars fell in love with the Brightest Star- or the Royal Star, depending on how you read it. The Shield loved the Star so much, it used powerful magicks to ensure that it would always be there to protect the Star. But magic like that has a price. And it probably couldn't account for necromancy. I wouldn't be surprised if each pair died shortly after the other. So it was, for Lorelai and Astarion, the Elf. That magic probably gnawed at her insides, knowing she'd failed.

"A very old story. Loving so much that it destroys you."

It was a little… ego-busting, to say it all aloud like that. To be adjacent to a love that possibly outrivaled the one he had for Mystra. How could he compete with someone who had inspired one of the first elves to bind their soul to another for all of eternity?

But. She had held his face in her hands and said, "you are a part of it." Could he trust that this was an equal love shared by three?

It wasn't that long ago that Eletha told him to take Astarion and be happy together. That a near-immortal man who once romanced a goddess would be a perfect match for a vampire who no longer remembered what love and comfort was. She had wanted what was best for them, even if it meant she wasn't a part of it.

Using Stelmane's old room for privacy, Eletha fussed at Gale and Astarion until they sat on the bed. Standing in front of them, she once again felt ashamed.

"I'm sorry," she said emphatically. "I know that's not enough. I've been selfish and-"

"Insane," Astarion interrupted at the same time Gale said, "Hurting."

Eletha chuckled softly. "You're right, but it's no excuse."

"I was going to detonate a magic bomb in my chest," Gale explained. "Astarion was going to sacrifice 7,000 souls for personal gain. I think we should give ourselves some leeway."

Astarion agreed with a nod. "This is the first good thing that's happened to me. And while I would have appreciated being lavished with attention and gifts this whole time, I think I can live with knowing that you were merely suffering from being bound to me for all of eternity."

Eletha wanted to laugh, but it wasn't really one of his usual jokes. It was supposed to be, but it wasn't. The reality of it was finally sinking in for him.

Taking one of her hands, Gale looked up at her with sad eyes. "We were worried about you a great deal."

More than happy to be distracted from too-big thoughts, Astarion returned to his normal self. "To be clear, I actually enjoyed watching you tear Orin apart. What a show."

It was good that everyone was operating within expected parameters, but Gale still squinted at Astarion, letting his unappreciation for the sentiment be known. "I think it is enough, for now, to acknowledge our shortcomings and make an effort to not backslide into bad habits. Well. Rather, I suppose we should focus on more pressing matters. Like finally ending this Absolute."

"Anything that gets me into bed." Astarion sighed tiredly before falling back onto the bed, arms spread wide. Getting up onto his elbows, he looked up at Eletha. "Are you staying this time, darling?"

"I have something to do first, but I'll be back, I promise." Gale squeezed her hand. She smiled. "I mean it. Not going off to eat dirt or stab some beggar."

Astarion clicked his tongue. "Pity."

The door closed behind her and a few heartbeats passed wherein Astarion idly played with the hem of Gale's shirt. Breaking the silence, Gale said, "You should follow her."

"I was already planning on it. I'm giving her a head start." Sitting up the rest of the way, Astarion placed his cheek on Gale's shoulder. "I thought you were more trusting than that."

"I am-"

"She promised." Gods, he could be so annoying. It was adorable, though.

"You were already planning on spying."

"That's because I'm nosy."

Gale turned to press his cheek against Astarion's forehead and then proceeded to rub his beard against the skin. With an exaggerated sound of discomfort, Astarion moved away.

"You should listen to Tara and shave that horrid thing."

"Mm. I don't think you mean that," Gale said with a smirk. "You seemed to like it in other places."

A glower flashed in Astarion's eyes before he pounced. Trapping Gale beneath him with legs on either side of his body, Astarion pinned the other's wrists above his head.

"You know, we very well may die tomorrow."

"It is quite likely that we will," Gale agreed, his next words interrupted by Astarion's lips.

After a passionate, breath-hitching kiss, Astarion pulled away one last time with a smirk of his own.

"I should go see what she's up to."

Absolutely smitten, Gale smiled up at him. "I will be counting the heartbeats before you come back with her."

"Oh, you would, too."

When Eletha's trail led him to the graveyard, Astarion didn't have high hopes for the night. But, she managed to surprise him.

"I knew you'd show up," she said more happily than he expected.

"I suppose you know me best," he answered rather suggestively, sauntering now that there was no point in creepy-crawling. "What are you up to?"

Leaning over her shoulder, he watched as she brushed away some loose dirt. Beneath his headstone was a smaller one, nestled in the earth. Made from a scrap of stone, it had an equally crude engraving. 

Lorelai Irithyl 

b. 1224 d. 1260

"I know it's silly-"

"No. I understand the sentiment." He watched as she tried to carve the letters a little bit deeper. "The only constant in my life is my name. It has always been mine, even when my body wasn't."

"It's a good name."

"Yours isn't so bad." After a moment more of watching, he asked, "What did you see? In your meditation."

"Us."

"I must have been very important."

"To me, you were the most important."

"Was I beautiful?"

"Oh, the most beautiful creature in all the realms."

"Good. I like knowing that you at least had something gorgeous to give your life meaning."

Eletha smiled, warm and eye-crinkling. In her hand, she offered a leather pouch. He picked it up hesitantly.

"What's this?"

"Your gravedirt."

"How romantic."

"Your burial shroud needs retiring if we're going to start sharing a bed on the regular."

After giving the bag of dirt a testing squeeze, he replied, "Message received."

Upon returning together, Eletha bid Astarion go on ahead once she saw Gale.

She practically threw herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

"Thank you for taking care of me. I will make it up to you somehow." His grip around her waist tightened and something told her that he was more upset than sad. "What's wrong?"

"Am I… good enough, for you?" Gale asked, face pressed against her hair.

Eletha broke the embrace, but only so she could look him in the eye. "Is that how I make you feel? That you're not enough?"

"Compared to thousands of years-"

"Gale-"

"The amount of love and importance-"

"I want to meet your mother," she interrupted. Gale stopped mid-sentence, stunned.

"You… You do?"

"When all of this is over and I've made sure everyone is fine without me hovering over their shoulders? Yes. I want to meet her. Because she's very important to you."

"I am relieved to hear that," he admitted, letting the tension out of his shoulders. "It's a good idea. You need some mothering."

"Please, you take good enough care of me already." One reassuring kiss later, she thought aloud, "Although, hopefully, I won't need so much mothering now. I've already faced my three worst fears, so what else is there?"

"Mmm… Quynn, Bhaal, and…?"

"Learning why Astarion ran off without me. Wondering if he ever really loved me."

"Given how flippantly you say that, I assume he always did?"

"Yes, even if we were idiots about it. But now?" Eletha reached up and rubbed his beard and cheeks between her hands playfully. "Maybe it was for the best. Because now we both have you. It probably wouldn't have crossed our minds if we'd been together this whole time."

"I will consider it a small miracle, then," Gale said with what happiness he could convey in the wake of her silly man-handling, "that we all found love again, together."

"Stop moving," Astarion hissed.

It was barely light out. Birds and insects chirped excitedly while the air was still cool. The wind whispered through the trees.

"I'm not," Eletha bit back from her seat on the ground between his knees.

Very carefully, so as not to ruin the slight curl of her hair, his fingers combed out the tangles that sleep had put there. Then, with precise movements, he tied it up in a blue ribbon.

"It's so weird having hair again," she commented, admiring it in a hand mirror.

"You look wonderful either way, and any length in between," Gale said with no small amount of admiration from his place by the campfire.

"You taught him well." Sly grin on her lips, Eletha came to sit by the fire. She tried to put some carrots into the bubbling pot, but Gale smacked her hand with a wooden spoon.

"Apparently, not well enough," Morena Dekarios chided as she smacked Gale's hand with her own spoon and, with a gesture, bid Eletha to put the roughly-chopped carrots back in. "You need to eat your vegetables, young man."

"Mother…" Gale grumbled, watching with annoyance as the women started throwing things into his perfectly good stew.

"I agree with him, Mrs. Dekarios," Tara spoke up after doing her morning stretches. "Vegetables are ghastly things."

"Well, you're in luck."

From the forest emerged Quynn and Heilar, a large buck hanging from a branch propped up on their shoulders. When they started stringing it up and dressing it, Morena shuddered.

"I'm glad we have nice, handsome boys like you to do the unpleasant parts for us," she told the two men sweetly, shying away from their work.

"She does know that 'boy' is at least four times her age, yes?" Astarion asked as he sat down beside Gale just to be a part of the group. Admiring the enchanted ring on his finger, he added distractedly, "And also her… step-grandson?"

"I don't think she's really internalized that part…" Gale replied under his breath, prodding a bit of floating onion that offended him.

"Well, if she marries Heilar, then he can be the step-father-in-law I always needed," Eletha added, unable to contain her amusement.

Astarion laughed. They all laughed. Except Gale, who was at first deeply embarrassed, but eventually came around to the absurdity of it all.

It was nice, taking a leisurely trip across the continent with no big worries. Morena's insistence on coming was a surprise to be sure, but somehow, she fit right in.

There was a sadness about it too. Their companions out living their own lives.

None of Karlach's boisterous laughter.

No stories from Wyll.

Shadowheart and Lae'zel's bickering long put to rest.

Halsin's warmth reserved for whoever might cross his path.

Jaheira and Minsc, Baldur's Gate mainstays.

Minthara, probably dismantling all of Drow society, despite Eletha giving a very good argument for not giving a fuck out of pure spite.

Even Withers, as odd as that was to say.

Later, when it was just Astarion and Eletha out admiring the trees of the Dales, trees they had known intimately in their youth, he asked, "So, why is your curse gone? Because of your fancy flaming sword that lets you do nifty fiery tricks?"

"I gave a fae back his name," Eletha answered with a flippant shrug.

"A fae's name is much too good to trade for that," Astarion said in disbelief and a bit of annoyance. They could have bartered for something much better. Although, it was nice, not having to plan around her inconveniences and having hair to play with. Gale wasn't always so willing a test subject.

"I'd been holding onto it since the dawn of time. And he was rather good to me this time around." Eletha found one tree in particular and held her hand against it. In its shadow, she could see the after-images of their young adulthood through her magic eye. "It was either that, or take back a promise I made lifetimes ago."

"You… You could have been free of me, of having no choice but to come back, and you… chose not to?" It was truly baffling. While he was amazing and completely worth the trouble, the long-standing deal had caused her more pain than he could imagine.

"Well, next time, you can help me skip ahead of all that." Continuing their walk, she playfully pushed him a little with her shoulder. "But I guess give me a few decades. So it's not so weird."

"At least I'll have Gale, assuming he doesn't find some new way to explode…"

"Who knows, maybe I won't come back. On account of you being a vampire and all."

"Do you think that might happen?"

"If it does… I'm not worried about it," she said with a serene smile. "Like you said, you'll have Gale."

They walked on for a few more minutes in silence.

"I would miss you, I think."

"I'm happy to hear that." Stopping him, Eletha became very serious. Astarion felt the all-too-familiar start of panic.

Then she placed her hand over her abdomen and closed her eyes.

"Because I'm pregnant."

Astarion choked on a sudden spout of laughter.

"And it's not yours."

"I didn't wait on you hand and foot for a week only to be repaid with terrible jokes," he spat, pushing her gently towards a mud puddle before walking off.

With a wicked grin that started to reveal the points of his fangs, he looked back at her, red eyes sparkling, and suggested, "Let's try that on Gale."

Slipping a hand under the crook of his arm, Eletha giggled.

"I think he might explode."

"The look on his face right before would be well worth it."