Chapter Text
It was getting late, but they had finally made it to the elven city of Evereska! It was more beautiful than the stories led the human and the tiefling to believe. They looked in awe at the large marble cliffs and stone which lifted the city from the grassland below, as if on a pedestal.
For Astarion, clear blue skies and gorgeous architecture were a stark difference from the walls of Szarr palace, and yet there was something familiar about the rolling hills they passed. As they walked along, he noticed the birds, cats, and wildlife that scurried about had no fear of the resident elves, much like the rats that ran across his body as he rotted on the floors of the kennel. . .
It was then that Astarion noticed Wyll and Karlach were looking at him. Shit. Did he miss something?
“Come again?” Astarion asked, looking between the two.
“Does any of this feel familiar?” Wyll asked.
"Yes, actually, it does," Astarion responded.
Memories so distant, like they were from a dream filtered through his mind. A young girl getting messy rolling down a grassy hill, Astarion refusing to do the same because he hated dirt on his clothes. That same girl naming every cat they came across and trying to capture a couple to bring them home. She told him, "this one is named Jonathan, and that's Princess Nightstar." Those memories should have filled him with some comfort, but the lack of familiarity he had with them, as if they were someone else's memories, filled him with unease. As did the rest of Evereska, the longer they stayed.
The evening was upon them soon after they arrived, which was why they planned to get a room and set out for Avriana in the morning.
The room they got from the first inn they found was larger than all the others they had stayed in; it even had a balcony.
Once they were settled in the room, Astarion stepped out onto the balcony, breathing in the fresh night air. Tomorrow, he would be meeting Avriana, trying to convince the poor elf that he was a (probably) dead man. All to protect himself from Cazador. If it worked, for all he knew he could be dooming them all. It could also end up okay. The torturous thing was that there was no way to know how it would end and who would be hurt in the process.
He was so lost in his own head, just like earlier in the day, he didn’t realize Wyll was next to him, until the other man was handing him a glass of red.
Astarion took the glass and thanked him, but didn’t drink.
“Astonishing view from here, wouldn’t you say?” Wyll prompted, taking a sip of his wine.
Astarion hummed in agreement. “It sure is. Who wouldn’t want to live here?”
“That’s a good question. Astarion, are you sure you want to go through with this? You’ve been completely out of it since we got here.”
Astarion stuck on a fake smile and did his best fake laugh (it came out a little high-pitched.) “Out of it? Darling, I feel great. Tomorrow I am to be reunited with my. . ." Astarion trailed off. The fake smile disappeared, along with any energy the man had in this charade. "I'm not Astarion."
"Astarion-" Wyll started, but Astarion cut him off.
"I'm just some rich man's runaway slave. Before that, who knows? Maybe more of the same? Or something worse? I have no family waiting to welcome me with open arms. I have nothing and I am nothing.”
Astarion couldn't stop himself. He had no idea where this sudden burst of candor came from all of a sudden, when they were so close to pulling this off. Perhaps, he didn't want to pull it off. It seemed as if the unease he had been feeling was actually guilt from the conscience he thought had died on the street as he bled out, but was actually dormant, waking now (at the worst possible time!)
Wyll stopped him before the elf could say another word, “you are not nothing! I didn't believe you were Astarion at first. I hated this plan, and I hated myself even more for just going along with it. And now. . .”
"You told me before you didn't know what to believe," Astarion replied quietly.
“That’s because I didn’t. You were pretending to be Astarion, that much felt clear, but then you go and mention things about the lost son that only he would know. I may have never gotten the chance to meet Astarion or the Ancunín's, but I know enough about the case to know what had been written about and what hadn't. Not to mention, the way you danced, as if you’d been taught how to dance like that.”
"I was just following your lead."
"Yes, and you did so flawlessly."
". . . You think I'm Astarion?"
"I do."
It was at that moment Astarion realized how close they had drifted to each other while talking, how close their faces were. Wyll must have also noticed because he pulled back a bit just as Astarion did.
Astarion finally took a sip of the wine, hoping the blush he could feel heating his cheeks wasn't too noticeable on his pale skin.
“I’ll head back inside, it’s starting to get late,” Wyll told Astarion. “Get some rest soon. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
Astarion nodded. “I’ll be right in.”
“Goodnight, Astarion.”
“Night, Wyll.”
Avriana Ancunín’s house (if you could call something that large a house) wasn’t as big as Szarr Palace, but it probably wasn’t hiding any horrors behind illusionary walls and thick cement floors either, at least that’s what Astarion assumed. He shook his head and tried to banish the thoughts of the nights when Cazador rented his body to the highest bidder from his mind. He needed to stay focused. It was all he could see when he tranced and knew it would remain as such for a while, but during the day, he wanted his mind to be his own.
Wyll knocked on the door. Karlach and Astarion both decided it would be best if he took the lead, hoping his Ravengard name would allow them close to the Ancunín daughter.
A young elf answered the door.
“Hello, can I help you?” She asked in a soft voice.
Astarion doubted she was Avriana; she must be her staff then.
Behind the elf, Astarion saw a few kittens running around and pouncing on each other. It seemed Avriana finally got those cats she wanted.
"Yes, good morning. I would like to see Avriana," Wyll said. "My name is Wyll Ravengard.”
“Mr. Ravengard, of course!” The elf stepped aside to let Wyll and his party in, then led them down a corridor. “She’s just down this hall.”
The walls of the hall were decorated with portraits. Blonde and white haired elves with light eyes whose faces tugged at the back of Astarion’s brain, as if trying to place where he had seen them before.
They eventually stopped at a pair of double doors.
“Wait here for a moment, please,” the elf said before disappearing inside, the doors closing behind her before Astarion could sneak a peek inside.
Moments later, the elf popped back out.
“You’re welcome to see her.”
The three of them walked in through the doors, Wyll leading the other two into the room. It was a library, a huge library. Astarion would have felt anger at all this belonging to one woman if he weren’t so in awe. Around them were couches and chairs, and on some, cats were lounging (how many of these did she have?) Beyond that, from wall to wall and floor to very high ceiling were shelves stacked with books. The ceiling itself and the wall farthest from them were made of glass, perfect for letting a lot of natural light in for reading, though elves had darkvision, reading in a brightly lit room was preferable.
Astarion was so busy taking in the library, he almost forgot why they were here.
Until he heard her voice. “I don’t think we’ve ever met, Wyll Ravengard. It’s nice to make your acquaintance.”
A woman with long white curls and silver eyes was shaking Wyll’s hand.
“It’s lovely to meet you too, Miss Ancunín.” Wyll greeted.
Avriana’s smile briefly faltered when her eyes landed on Astarion, but she was quick to fix her face as she asked Wyll, “to what do I owe this visit?”
“I want to tell you that I’ve found Astarion.”
Avriana's smile fell. "Have you? Well, you and your 'Astarion' can leave now."
Astarion was ready to pack it up and head out, already trying to come up with another plan to save himself from Cazador. Except, Wyll wasn’t moving.
“I can’t do that,” Wyll said.
"Oh, you can't do that!?" she exclaimed, her entire demeanor now very clearly angry.
Karlach tried to step closer to Wyll, but he subtly waved his hand to keep her where she was.
Avriana didn’t seem to notice as she continued, “well, you better find some way out of my house right now because I cannot handle another person claiming to be my brother, reciting facts he read in a paper. It's been 200 years! He's dead, Wyll! And-” Avriana stopped suddenly, looking at Astarion, “what are you doing!?”
Astarion looked up from the book he had picked up from the table nearest him to see both Wyll and Avriana looking at him.
"Sorry," he said. "I just noticed your book had this stamp on it." Astarion turned the book towards them. The stamp was a small illustration of an open book with a night sky drawn on the pages, around the illustration was written ‘This book belongs to Starry Tomes Library’ in elvish.
Avriana walked over to him, carefully took the book from his hands, and started inspecting it, probably to make sure it wasn’t damaged. "This was my brother's."
"He wanted to open a library so he could share his books with everyone. He made a stamp and stamped all his books with it."
Avriana's head snapped up, "how did you-"
She stopped when she saw Astarion was holding up a book with the same image, only this one was drawn on, not stamped, because it was one he just pulled out of his bag.
"This book belongs to Starry Tomes Library," Avriana read what was written on the book. She still looked angry, but far less so, and it was mixed with skepticism.
"After I lost my memories, I sto- legally acquired this book and drew this on it. I wasn't sure why at the time, just that I liked it." That and I wanted something that was mine.
“You lost your memories?” Avriana asked.
Astarion nodded.
“Convenient.”
"Pretty fucking far from convenient for me," Astarion snapped. "I went through 200 hundred years of pure shit, and the only memories I have from before that time are the Gur kicking the shit out of me because they were upset about a ruling I made."
A ruling I made? Astarion's not sure where that came from, he had no memories beyond bleeding out in the street and Cazador. . . But now he could see the angry faces of the Gur tribe illuminated by the light of the moon. They were telling him he was going to pay for what he did. He offered them money, said he could get them whatever they wanted, but what they wanted was his blood.
"You're a good actor, I'll give you that," Avriana said, looking distrustfully at the other elf.
As she spoke, she was twisting a ring on her finger. She probably didn't even realize she was doing it, a habit. However, it brought the ring to Astarion's attention. It had a sun on it. It looked like the ring he had, but his had a star on it. He kept hidden from Cazador for 200 years. It wasn't that he necessarily cared about the ring, but, like the book, it was something of his, and he always wondered if the ring was a link to someone from his past. He pulled it out of his bag.
“Is this yours?"
Avriana stopped. She looked almost frozen before she took the ring in her hands, probably looking for the engraving on the inside. 'The Star'
"I never told anyone about these rings after my brother went missing. So much had been shared with the papers that I wanted something that was just for us. We got these rings before he left home for Waterdeep University."
"His was a ring with a star engraved with 'The Star' for Astarion, and yours was a ring with a sun engraved with 'The Dawn' for Avriana," Astarion said- Astarion remembered.
"Oh, gods," Avriana looked from the ring back up to Astarion, tears welling in her eyes. All previous anger and skepticism had left. "Stari?"
"Avri."
Avriana pulled Astarion in for a hug, and he hugged her back.
"Welcome home."
The next few days were a lot. Avriana wanted Astarion to move in with her as soon as he could. Since all of his belongings fit in his pack, it was easy for him to move in immediately. She bought him all manner of clothes and books, and sewing supplies, as he still liked to embroider. She also took him to see all the doctors in Evereska (okay, maybe not all of them, but it felt like it.) It was also necessary since the only doctor he had seen in 200 years was some sleaze on Cazador's payroll who only made sure he and the others could do their job and didn't catch anything they could spread to Cazador's clients.
It felt good, though. Memories slowly started returning of summers and holidays spent in Evereska, portraits Avriana had saved had only good memories returning to Astarion, and Avriana was there to fill in any gaps, as well as his parents. Avriana told them as soon as she could about Astarion, but they were skeptical until they arrived. When they saw him, they knew he was their "Little Star.”
No imposters had tried to show up since the real Astarion returned, but just in case they did, Avriana and her parents told the world that Astarion had returned, safe and sound. The lost son had been found. Astarion, however, was hesitant to talk to anyone; he spoke just a little and to a few reporters, telling them as little as possible, and refused to allow a portrait to be published in any paper. Since that scare where he thought he saw Dalyria on the train, Astarion hadn’t seen any of his siblings nor Cazador himself, but that didn’t mean the man wasn’t still looking for him. The last thing he needed was to expose where he was to the man by plastering himself on every paper in Evereska. Elves, like Cazador, often kept up with news in Evereska even if they were in Baldur’s Gate or another Faerûn city. Luckily, the news cycle moved on, Astarion was getting pestered less and less for interviews, and Cazador never showed up
. . . It was luck, right? Astarion wanted to believe it was, he really did, but he, unfortunately, knew Cazador intimately. The older elf, it seemed, had an infinite amount of money and resources. It would be easy enough for him to just abduct someone to replace him. Yet, Astarion knew he wouldn’t. Cazador believed he owned Astarion, and he had the scars (Cazador’s idea of a brand) on his back to prove it. He wouldn’t want to lose what he owns, not when he loves him. Or, not so much loves him as he loves torturing him. Cazador was, among other monstrous things, a sadist. He enjoyed torturing all of Astarion’s siblings, but took a special pleasure in Astarion’s pain. He made a game out of it. How many ways could he find to punish Astarion that wouldn't leave a scar on his pretty porcelain skin? How close to death could he bring him without delivering the final blow that Astarion craved? Astarion knew there was no way Cazador would just let him go. So, where was he?
“We have a problem, soldier.”
Karlach had shown up on Avriana’s doorstep again out of the blue.
Astarion pretended not to be disappointed that Wyll wasn’t with her, just as he had pretended not to notice that he hadn’t seen Wyll since he slipped out while Astarion and Avriana tearfully embraced each other in the library.
With Karlach's words, however, all feelings were replaced as the underlying dread that had been haunting him was suddenly brought to the forefront.
“What is it?”
“Wyll. He’s gone missing.”
“What do you mean missing?”
“I mean, I got home today and he wasn’t there. I wasn’t concerned until I found this,” Karlach explained, producing a note. “I read it, but I think it’s addressed to you.”
Astarion took the note. With the first three words, he immediately felt ill.
My Little Star,
I have found the man who took you from me. I am dealing with him as we speak.
You can return home now. Your siblings and I miss you dearly.
There was no signature because Cazador knew he didn’t need one.
“Does that mean anything to you?” Karlach asked. “Do you know who has Wyll?”
“Yes. I do,” Astarion confirmed, trying to breathe, trying to calm himself.
“Are you okay, Stari?” Avriana asked.
Astarion shook his head. “This came from the man who’s held me captive these 200 years.”
“Who?” Avriana asked.
She’d been trying to slowly coax answers about everything that had happened in the 200 years since his disappearance that stopped him from coming home. Everything from fear to shame kept him from being forthcoming with his answers.
Astarion hesitated, but he didn’t have a choice; Wyll didn’t deserve what was about to happen to him. “Cazador Szarr.”
Avriana was silent for a moment as she let that sink in. “That son of a bitch!”
Astarion was a little taken aback by that response.
“The man who was so ‘helpful’ after you disappeared!? It was almost as if he wanted us to find you as much as we did, and the whole time he was the one who abducted you! I should have known! Something about him, the way he looked at us when he talked about you, always set me on edge.” Avriana shook her head. “All those parties he held trying to raise money and get the word out about finding in his palace and you were there the entire time!”
“That explains why I was never made to help at any of the parties and instead-” Astarion cut himself off. “Never mind. Not important. What’s important is helping Wyll, and we’ll need a plan.”
The forgotten forest was largely avoided by most people as it was said to be inhabited by not only walking trees and evil sunflowers (known as Treants and Phaerimms, respectively) but also fey creatures such as sprites, korreds, and unicorns. In short, he was on his own.
Astarion stood in front of the large manor in the center of the forest. Of course, Cazador would have a giant manor built in the center of an enchanted forest (not that Astarion had seen anything thus far that would lead him to believe the forest was magical one way or another.) Astarion fought against every instinct that was telling him to run away as he opened the door.
Inside, Astarion could have sworn he was transported back to the Crimson Palace. It looked the same – same gothic décor, same tasteless art, same fading carpet — though he could see the forest trees outside the few windows. He walked forward to the throne room at the end of the hall, where he knew Cazador would be trying to look far more confident than he felt.
“Welcome home, my lost son,” Cazador greeted when he laid eyes on Astarion, a satisfied smirk on his face.
“Where is Wyll?” Astarion asked immediately.
“Wyll?” Cazador asked. “Oh, is that the name of my new pet? He is in the kennels, where you will see him soon enough. Clearly, I’ve been far too lenient with you when it comes to defying me. I will take my time teaching you and the other boy obedience.”
Astarion’s stomach churned; he couldn’t think about Wyll right now or what he was going through, at least he knew where he was and that he was alive. Now, he needed to be focused on Cazador.
Astarion stood up straighter and paired that with a determined look, which he hoped made him appear more confident. “I’m not scared of you.”
“Have you truly forgotten my power, boy?” Cazador frowned. “I can fix that,” he said with a flick of his wrist.
Cazador's powers went beyond money and influence. He was also a mage, adept at magic, and knew a litany of spells for an occasion. However, whatever it was he was trying to summon, it never came.
“Never mind,” he growled as he stood. “I can handle you myself. There is no disgraced Duke’s son to come and save you.”
As he walked towards Astarion, he disappeared, only reappearing when he was directly in front of him. He put his fist through the face of Astarion’s illusion just as it faded. Cazador wasn’t the only one who knew magic. Astarion picked up a few tricks from the spell books in Avriana's library. Astarion was also too smart to come alone, but perhaps Cazador could sense that as he was narrowly able to dodge Karlach’s axe as she brought it down just as her invisibility wore off, the brunt of the damage was taken by the floor. Karlach didn’t like that one bit. She let out an enraged shout as she charged at Cazador. Karlach’s constant swings kept Cazador on the defensive. He couldn’t strike at her, nor could he utter a spell before she attacked again. Unfortunately, Cazador had amazing reflexes. If he could dodge until Karlach wore herself out, then he would have nothing to worry about. Or so he thought.
While Astarion's illusion and Karlach's attacks were distracting Cazador. Avriana opened one of Cazador’s few windows. Then she took her place, perched in a tree with an arrow nocked and ready to fire once Karlach pushed Cazador into the right spot. . . There! Avriana whispered a spell as the arrow flew through the air. It missed Cazador and landed at his feet, just as the archer intended. At the point of impact, a writhing mass of thorny vines appeared, wrapping around Cazador, thorns biting deeper into his skin as he struggled against them fruitlessly. Avriana jumped down from her perch and through the window with her animal companion (not any of the small cats she had, but rather her giant panther, Nightstar.) Cazador didn’t stand a chance.
Meanwhile, Astarion was already kicking open the door of the kennels. The windowless, fetid cell was, of course, hidden behind an illusionary wall, but since this palace seemed to follow the layout of the palace Astarion spent 200 years in – 200 years going between his room and the kennels – he knew exactly where it was.
Godey was waiting inside. Godey, who would torture him and his siblings for days at a time, taking over when Cazador finally grew bored of their screams. He was expecting Astarion, but not for him to be armed with a short sword and dagger. Godey was easier to beat than Astarion thought he would be. He was so much worse in Astarion’s memory. Of course, in those memories, he was chained to the wall by his wrists, neck, and ankles, unable to lift a finger to defend himself as he wept and begged for mercy or any kind of reprieve. In reality, Godey was no stronger than himself, just sadistic.
With Godey out of the way, Astarion ran over to Wyll. His body was hanging limp from the chains, but he was breathing. Astarion checked out his body; his shirt had been cut off, but he didn’t seem injured. He was just sleeping off whatever sleeping spell or potion Cazador gave him to make him fall unconscious. Probably for the best, they might’ve started to torture him had he been awake, more enjoyable for them that way. Astarion started to unchain Wyll quickly. He needed to get him out of here!
“A-st-star-”
Her voice was pained and raspy as she tried to speak, but he still recognized the voice of his sister, Dalyria.
Turning, he saw her chained to the wall opposite Wyll but farther back. Unlike Wyll, she was bleeding and bruised, just hanging by the chains, unable to stand on her feet anymore.
“Dalyria?”
He had started to think it was paranoia, but perhaps he did see her on the train that day. He walked over to her and unchained her. He caught her before she dropped and lowered her down gently.
“Why are you here? Run!” Her attempt at shouting was so hoarse, it almost sounded like she didn’t say a word.
Astarion knew he should take Wyll run, former sibling be damned, but Astarion had faith that his friends could handle Cazador, killing the monster before he could lay a hand on Astarion again. He let his sympathy for his older sister (and kindest of the seven of them) win out. He took the first aid kit meant for Wyll and did what he could to try and mend some of Dalyria’s wounds, including giving her some water to soothe her throat, until he could get her out of here and to a real doctor.
“Are the others here?” Astarion asked.
“No,” Dalyria replied after gulping down almost all of the water. She sounded a lot better now. “He sent me to get you, and Godey to keep me in line and to punish me after I failed to get you. You shouldn’t be here. I thought you were safe!”
“I was safe, Dal. I’m here to kill Cazador.”
“You can’t.”
“Not by myself. That’s why I have friends who are dealing with him as we speak.”
“Friends?”
Just as Dalyria questioned Astarion having friends, Karlach and Avriana found the three of them. Avriana fixed any of Dalyria’s urgent wounds without so much as stopping to ask who she was. If Astarion wanted to help her, then Avriana did too.
Karlach picked up Wyll while Astarion helped Dalyria walk out of the manor.
They brought them to the closest hospital. Dalyria was taken the moment she was checked in to get her injuries looked at. Wyll, who had woken up on the way, tried to refuse medical attention, but Karlach and Astarion wouldn’t stop insisting. Wyll gave in, knowing he wasn’t going to win against the united front.
Avriana and Karlach left to get rid of the noble body currently rotting in the forest, while Astarion stayed.
The doctors were still with Dal when Wyll, who had a minor concussion, was free to go home. Astarion decided to walk Wyll home before he returned to check on Dal, since she had no one here for her.
“I’m sorry,” Astarion said as they walked down the street.
Wyll assured Astarion. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“I’m the reason you got dragged into this!”
“Cazador dragged me into this. You saved me.”
“It was the least I could do since I knew what he could and would do to you.”
“He’s gone, and we’re both safe; that’s what matters. I want to know how your new life with your sister has been!”
Astarion smiled, grateful for the subject change. “It has been great. I spend most of my time in the library, that’s where the cats like to spend their time too, because that part of the house gets a lot of sun, so I’ve been getting to know all of them. She forgot to warn me about the panther, though. I walked in on Nightstar just chilling in the library and nearly had a heart attack.”
“She has a panther?!”
“A huge panther. Once I got past the initial shock, though, I found she’s really sweet and acts like a giant cat, but much more effective than a guard dog."
“You sound like you’re very happy there. How happy has Avri been to have you back?”
“About as happy as I am to be back, we get along really well, despite the time apart and the gaps in my memory. It’s strange. For 200 years, I’d thought all the memories of my past would be gone, but slowly, I can feel things coming back with every story and portrait. She has kept a lot of my things, which helps. She keeps trying to get me into her backyard, ignoring the fact that being locked in windowless rooms for 200 years has left my skin extra sensitive to the sun.”
“Is that why you’re so pale?”
“You thought this corpse chic complexion was natural?”
Wyll shrugged.
“It’s not, and now I’m pretty sure standing under the moon for too long would burn me.”
Wyll laughed at that. “The only thing I don’t understand is why she wants to get you into the backyard.”
“She turned part of her yard, which is huge by the way, into an archery range. I told her, ‘my hands are far too delicate to be playing with a bow and arrow, darling’ and she handed me a crossbow. I attempted hitting targets with the crossbow, but it didn't go well.”
“Did anyone get hurt?”
“No, but she has a little outside area set up for the cats near the range, so they were able to see me fail. Cats may be cute, but they are so judgy.”
“I’m sure they won’t hold your lack of archery skills against you. You haven’t had the same amount of time as your sister to practice.”
“That's true. Perhaps I should try giving her a needle and thread the next time she tries to pull me into the range.”
“So, it's all been well then?”
“Yeah, for the most part.”
“Most part?”
“Well. . .” Astarion had a moment of hesitation before he said, “she hasn’t been pushing it, but. . . I know she wants to know about everything. I don’t know how to tell her. The last time she saw me, I was a magistrate, a successful arbiter of justice, someone our parents could be proud of. Now, I’m a whore- or I was- working for Cazador getting “paid” his table scraps. . . How do I tell her that? How do I tell her everything else that happened when I wasn’t working?”
“It’s your trauma, your experiences, that means they’re yours to share or not. You don’t have to tell her anything you don’t want to, and if you do want to, you get to do it in your own time. By the way, you’re not a whore, Astarion, plain and simple.”
“Thank you, Wyll. You’ve been the first person in a long time to treat me like a person.”
“Come now, Astarion, it’s the very least you deserve, and you deserve plenty more than that.”
“Sure, still, I wanted to thank you." Then, Astarion quickly changed the subject, "so, have you and Karlach decided where you want to go yet?”
“I think we’re going to stay in Evereska for a while. Everyone around here is really nice and you’re here.”
“You’re staying here because I’m here?”
“You’re at least one reason not to leave.”
Astarion was silent for a moment, as if considering something, before he said, “you never went to pick up the reward money. Why is that?”
“I didn’t want it. I didn’t want to do that plan from the start, taking the money felt wrong.”
“Avri would have paid up without issue, even if it started as a scam, you gave me back to her.”
“I know she would have, but honestly? All I wanted her to worry about was what she was going to do next with her long-lost brother to reconnect and make new memories. I didn’t need her to worry about paying some random man and woman who brought her brother back from the dead.”
“You’re a good man, Wyll.”
“As are you, Astarion.”
The pair walked a little longer in comfortable silence, nearing Wyll’s apartment. Wyll broke the silence, “Astarion?”
“Yes, darling?”
Wyll couldn’t help but smile a bit when Astarion responded. “Do you remember that night before we met your sister? When we drank wine on the balcony together?”
Astarion nodded, “as a matter of fact, I do.”
“I think I made a mistake that night.”
“And what mistake was that?”
“Not kissing you.”
“I was hoping you would," Astarion admitted.
Wyll stepped a bit closer, “it just didn’t feel like the right time.”
“Oh, darling, there is never going to be a ‘right time.’”
The pair were leaning closer together, but before they could finally close the distance, the door opened.
“Hey, glad you’re back,” Karlach interrupted.
“Were you just waiting on the other side of the door for us to arrive?” Astarion asked, trying to hide his annoyance.
“No, but I did hear voices out here. Wanna come in for a bite? I just picked up some food.” If Karlach had any idea what she interrupted, it didn't show.
“I have to get back to the hospital. I want to check back in on Dal, but first, could I have a minute?” Astarion asked.
“Sure thing, soldier. You’re always welcome,” Karlach closed the door, and Wyll was pinching the bridge of his nose when Astarion looked back over to him.
“I love her to death, but sometimes her timing is horrendous,” Wyll mentioned.
“No kidding,” Astarion taking Wyll’s hands and pulling him closer.
Wyll smiled and closed the space between them. His lips were soft and warm, and their bodies fit together perfectly. Astarion didn’t want the kiss to end, but, of course, they had to pull away.
“Are you sure you can’t come in for a quick bite before you go back to the hospital?” Wyll asked gently.
“Just for a quick bite.”
“Perfect,” Wyll opened the door and led Astarion inside.
When he returned to the hospital, Dalyria was lying in one of the hospital beds, thankfully awake and seeming better than when she was originally brought in. “You’re back?”
“I came to check on you. Are the doctors treating you okay?”
“Yes, I trust them. They’re not on Cazador’s payroll.” She paused for a moment. “Is he really. . .”
“He’s gone,” Astarion nodded. Then added, “for good.”
“Good riddance,” Dalyria said. “We have to talk.”
“Do we? I was thinking we’d just sit here quietly.”
Dalyria did not find Astarion amusing. “We must help the others.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
Dalyria frowned. “Why not?”
“Because, dear sister, that would require heading back to Baldur’s Gate, which I have no plans to do, and I’m not going to for those sorry excuses for 'siblings.’”
“All I’m asking is that you free them, Astarion. Cazador is dead, as is Godey; none of the servants or Duffay have the power Cazador had; they can be free like us.”
“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”
“I’m not going to beg, if that’s what you’re thinking. Either you agree, or I do this alone.”
“Fine,” Astarion agreed, albeit reluctantly.
He could probably convince his sister, Avriana, to come along too, just in case they run into any trouble. He didn’t much like the thought of dying for someone as pathetic as Petras.
Dalyria smiled in satisfaction. “Everyone deserves freedom. You got it, you gave it to me, and I want them all to have it too.”
Astarion smiled; it didn’t really matter where he went or what he did now. He had the freedom to choose, and he’d have his sister, Wyll, and Karlach by his side no matter what.