Chapter Text
Astarion cursed as he felt his feet give out beneath him and his usually supernaturally sturdy body crumple to the ground beneath the onslaught.
“What are you–”
The lithe but unyielding figure that had tackled him made a noise that sounded almost as surprised as he was. Astarion continued to struggle under the weight of the obstacle assailing him.
“Unhand me,” he spat, “or you’ll have far more than—”
“Astarion,” the figure replied evenly.
“Get the hells off of me, they’re taking her—”
“Astarion.”
“I will rip out your—”
“Astarion! ”
At the third interruption, Astarion finally realized who he was speaking to.
“Idhren?”
The man gave an affirmative hum before launching into a lecture, still resting atop him.
“What do you think you’re doing, trying to go out in the light?! Hells, I thought you’d been put under an enchantment or, or that something was, well—” he voice trailed off.
Astarion squirmed beneath him, affronted. “I’m not trying to kill myself, you idiot! Get off of me! How can you even—”
“Then what are you trying to do?” he rebutted, still sounding unsure.
“I’ll tell you all about it later, when the gods-damned guards aren’t trying to haul Tavya away!”
The elf froze above him. “Haul Tavya away?”
Idhren’s apparent surprise loosened his grip for just the moment Astarion needed to slip out from under him. If he was quick, he could still catch up to the guards and deploy his vampiric distraction.
Wrenching himself free, Astarion broke into a sprint back towards the line between sun and shadow, feeling urgently like he had to get an eyeline on her, something, anything—
And then he heard Idhren swear before saying - no, singing - something, and then he felt a wave of something wash over his mind and then…
Astarion stopped just short of the shadow’s edge, suddenly feeling very silly for being ready to throw himself into the sunlight like that. His muscles slackened; his stormy thoughts stilled to placid calm.
“Gods—” he muttered to himself, feeling like he’d just awoke from a deep sleep to find himself standing on the edge of a cliff. He turned to Idhren. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Idhren nodded solemnly. “I’m sorry for the spell, but I was afraid– Well, it won’t last long. Now can you please tell me what’s going on?”
“There’s been some kind of mistake. Tavya came to collect her Harper pin, but now they’re making some…” Astarion considered his words carefully, “accusations about her legitimacy. Hauling her off to jail over it.” The vestiges of white-hot rage lingered in his words, but they’d been tempered into something else. Certainly not a duller feeling, Astarion thought, but a cooler one, perhaps?
Idhren sighed, resting hand to forehead. “Gods. I knew that was a stupid plan.”
Astarion leaned his weight on the wall behind him. As he slumped against the brick he realized just how acutely his body, exhausted by mere proximity to the daylight, welcomed the rest. “What do you mean?”
“She let it slip to me a while ago that she wasn’t really a Harper. I told her, at the time, that I thought she was playing a dangerous game.”
Astarion swallowed. Apparently Tavya hadn’t thought that warning legitimate enough to even mention it.
“And you– you haven’t changed a bit!” Idhren continued, staring down Astarion with exhausted chagrin. “Running into the sun, to try to save her? Really? I’m trying to help, but you must be smarter than this. You could’ve died. Are you quite sure you’ve spent the last 200 years as a vampire spawn? Because that seems like pretty introductory knowledge.”
Astarion swallowed sheepishly. He was right, of course. Seeing Tavya carted off like that had triggered some of his more… reckless instincts.
“It’s fortunate you came along when you did,” he said, the closest thing to a “thank you” he could offer. Then, as the anxious fog further dissipated from his thoughts, an irregularity made itself clear. “What were you doing here?”
Idhren swallowed, and muttered something about walking into town to get his lyre restrung – a lyre that was not on his person, as far as Astarion could tell. But at that moment it didn’t particularly matter to Astarion if the man was lying. They had more pressing matters at hand.
“What am I supposed to do, if not give chase? I can’t just leave her to rot.”
Idhren watched sympathetically as he shared his concerns, and Astarion couldn’t help but wonder if his old friend had ever found himself in similar circ*mstances.
“You aren’t abandoning her, Astarion. But Evereska is not the kind of place that responds well to brute force. The best thing you can do is work in the shadows. Your father is a very powerful man, for one thing. And if he can’t help, well, I have no doubt you could retrieve her a bit more stealthily after nightfall.”
Since the bard was being helpful, Astarion tried to suppress his annoyance at how correct he was.
“Come on, let’s get you back indoors.”
Astarion allowed Idhren to lead them both back up the shadowed side of the hill towards the Ancunín estate. The Calm Emotions spell lost its grip on him shortly after; the familiar surge of panic and rage welled up once more, but didn’t change his course. Idhren’s argument had been well-made: Tavya would never forgive him if he burnt to ash in the sun trying to chase her.
He could stand to wait a few more hours; surely she would understand.
* * * * *
Astarion and Idhren had returned to an empty-feeling, if not actually empty, house, silent save for the sound of Corweth’s ghostly footsteps occasionally emanating from the floors above.
Absent the sound of destruction and inappropriate questions, Astarion wondered where the tiefling children had gone off to. Two more reasons to get Tavya back as soon as possible, Astarion thought, as he was surely ill-equipped to play doting father to the children.
Far more suited to simpler roles, such as family friend, put-upon uncle, or distant stranger.
When it became clear that the ever-present Lord Ancunín was, in fact, absent, Astarion strolled towards the sitting room, intent on distracting himself from his enforced idling with a book. But just as he’d found himself settling in, Idhren came to join him.
Astarion tensed a little at the realization that he’d been tasked with making even more conversation. Bards were at least meant to be interesting, he supposed. Frankly, he hadn’t given much thought towards Idhren until this point, quite content with unpacking his “tales from my mysterious past” box one item at a time, thank you. Perhaps that was why the words surprised him when Idhren finally spoke up.
“You know, you and I once fell into a similar spot of trouble, when we were younger.”
It piqued Astarion’s interest enough to earn Idhren a look up from his book. “Oh?”
With bardic charm, he relayed the tale of a young Idhren and Astarion, a pair of puckish teenage boys who, while often up to no good, were seldom caught in the act. This instance had been the exception – Idhren had been keeping a lookout as Astarion defaced a prominent City Watch recruitment poster, marking in some extra letters to turn the message into a much less savory one.
When the guards found them, Astarion was caught red-handed. Idhren could’ve run, but he didn’t. They were both hauled away.
“And so there we were, locked up in Heapside Prison, and even though we knew we were going to be in trouble, we couldn’t stop laughing.”
“Idhren–”
“--Please, Astarion. Call me Iddy. Anything else and you sound like my father. Or your father.” He made a face, as if that was even worse.
“Id-dy–” Astarion started, the syllables caught in his throat, as if he knew they would burst a dam of sentiment if ejected too harshly – “why didn’t you run away?”
Iddy shrugged. “Mischief shared is mischief halved, no? It wouldn’t have been any fun if you had to go alone. I wasn’t doing anything better that evening, besides.”
Astarion hesitated at the ease of the man’s words. He was glad to have had someone in his life so loyal to him, in the time before. But gods, he’d have so much less to grieve if the life he’d left behind had been some squalid, shameful one.
“That was… very kind of you,” Astarion replied, and then faltered, because what do you say to someone who knows your past infinitely better than you ever will? “I hope I thanked you, then.”
“You did, in your way.” Iddy smiled. “But ultimately no one cared if the baker’s kid misbehaved. You, on the other hand, the fancy Upper City magistrate’s son? Now that might’ve ruffled some feathers. So, I figured it was better if I could spread the blame around a bit.”
“You’re quite flippant about such a generous gesture.”
“So? I could be lying, for all you know.”
“Are you?”
“No.” He shot Astarion a wink, then finally quit his pacing and practically bounded into the nearest couch. Even then, he never stopped moving as he spoke, always fussing with the cushions or fiddling with the laces on his tunic. “It didn’t matter anyway,” he continued, “because your father came over almost right away and bailed us out. Smoothed it over, was how he put it.”
Astarion smiled conspiratorially. “How would you put it?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” Iddy mused, smoothing himself into a reclined position. “He gave a few bribes here and there, maybe cashed in a favor or two. Regardless, I’m sure he gave you quite the earful once he got you home. You two never saw eye-to-eye on a good day. That day, it was probably more like eye-to-shoulder at best.”
Astarion drummed his fingers against his chin, absorbing it all. It was a strange thing to be informed about the life he didn’t remember. Yet another piece of himself that belonged entirely to others. Well, not just any others. To Astor, and Corweth, and Iddy.
And Iddy, at least, had been kind.
“If he’s always been like – well, that –” Astarion gave a knowing look, “then I can see why that would’ve been the case.”
Iddy chuckled. “Exactly like that.”
They stayed like that a few hours more – waiting for Astor, letting his old friend distract him with bygone tales from a wayward youth spent side-by-side. Instead of sitting helplessly and willing the time to pass, reminded of his shortcomings while Tavya suffered, Astarion allowed Iddy to lead him back in time to walk the streets of their past in Baldur’s Gate.
The long wait for Astor was ultimately both a relief and concern to Astarion — eager as he was to retrieve Tavya, the prospect of begging the man for his assistance with the matter wasn’t exactly tantalizing. Still, when the man finally emerged from the passageway they’d traversed together weeks ago, Astarion found himself making his way toward him immediately.
“Astor,” Astarion began, trying and failing not to sound too shaken, “where have you been? Your contact at the Unicorn and Crescent got Tavya arrested!”
Astor looked back at him sympathetically. “I know. I’ve just come from the Hall. I’ve been trying to learn all I can.”
He motioned Astarion to his office, as Idhr– Iddy, made his excuses and departed. Once alone in the room, the older man wasted no time with his words. “Why did you both lie about Tavya being a Harper?”
“Where is she?” Astarion snapped.
“Why the ruse?” Astor replied tersely, an escalation in the war of unanswered questions.
“It was just to grant her access to the city. She’d been told that she may have difficulty, given her heritage – it was given to her by the High Harper Jaheir—”
Astor's expression was almost predatory, as if that were the answer he'd been hoping for. “So she didn’t trust you to make the journey on your own?”
Astarion knitted his brows. He hadn’t thought of it that way. “I wanted her to come with me.”
“Did you—”
“--Do you know where she is, and how we can have her released? Because if we’re just going to sit here and debate morality while my wife sits in a cell, then I’m not interested—”
“She’s been released.” Astor interrupted, sighing deeply, removing his spectacles to rub his tired eyes.
The sigh of relief Astarion expelled was involuntary, and he immediately felt a little guilty for all the shouting. “By the hells, why didn't you say so? Are they bringing her back here, or should I—”
Astor raised a hand to silence him. “It’s not quite that simple, I’m afraid. You see, those troublesome tiefling children,” he spat the words, “made the mistake of trying to break her out. Once they were captured by the guards, they learned that you two had in fact been harboring runaway wards of the state. The City Watch in Baldur’s Gate requested Mattis and Mol be returned immediately, and apparently — I’m getting this all secondhand, of course — Miss Willowind…”
Gods. Of course. Astarion was already finishing the sentence in his mind.
“She asked if she could be allowed to accompany them back.”
Astarion pinched his eyes shut, then opened them to fiddle with his wedding ring, the band that rested on the finger opposite his newly acquired Ancunín family signet. The band that matched the one Astor wore. Emotions flitted through him – fear, confusion, anger – but he was good at not letting it show on his face. An expert, even.
“Why didn’t you stop it?” He asked coolly.
Astor shook his head. “I wasn’t informed until it was too late. The Evereskan guard answer to the High Huntsman, you see. Normally I’d have contacts who could intervene, but they’d all been busy trying to find the pin in the first place.”
“That can’t be right. She wouldn’t have gone without telling me.” Astarion said it confidently, even though he could definitely think of a few reasons why she would actually do such a thing.
“I don’t mean to speculate on your private matters, Astarion, but… perhaps she didn’t tell you because she knew you would disapprove.”
“You mean to tell me she’s traveling back to Baldur’s Gate? As we speak?”
“Indeed,” Astor replied, pawing idly through some papers at his desk. “The way she dotes on those little urchins really is quite remarkable. Why is that, do you think?” He paused, shifting his glasses down his nose to look as Astarion directly. “It’s none of my business, of course. But I often find that the most tedious do-gooders are suffering a guilty conscience. Do you think she’ll actually take them back to Baldur’s Gate? There are a number of places she could harbor them, I suppose. Neverwinter, Waterdeep…”
Astarion was on his feet and in Astor’s face before he’d truly realized he’d done it.
Through gritted teeth, he asked the only question that mattered. “When Tavya comes back, will she be allowed back into Evereska?”
Astor’s eyes widened ever-so-slightly, and if he didn’t enjoy the reminder of being alone in a room with an angry vampire, so be it. “Ifshe returns,” he replied, after a moment to collect himself, “she could make her case to the courts, but it’s not guaranteed.”
“You couldn’t just push a pardon through?”
Astor removed his glasses, began methodically cleaning the lenses. “Well, theoretically, yes, but impersonating one’s way into Evereska is a serious offense. She’s lucky they released her at all.”
Astarion took a step back, sized up the man in front of him, and made a decision. The only one he could make, really. “Then I’ll have to leave tonight.”
Astor’s distinguished facade faltered. “Astarion, you’re over-reacting, I’m sure she can—”
But just as his father had done before, Astarion raised a hand to stay him. “It has been… very interesting, to spend time with you all. I hoped we could stay longer, truth be told. But I’m not going to let Tavya make the trip back alone, and if she can’t come back because of your archaic rules, then I don’t see why I would return, either.”
Astor stood silent for a long time, and Astarion braced himself for another argument. But instead all he said was, “I understand. Your devotion to her is remarkable. I’ll ask Elanor to have your belongings packed by nightfall.”
Astarion nodded, and turned to leave.
“One last thing,” Astor called over his shoulder. “The guards gave her a sending stone. It was meant to confirm her compliance, but I persuaded them to leave me with the matching one. I thought you might want it.”
Reaching out for the stone, Astarion couldn’t help but feel grateful, if a bit surprised at Astor’s easy reaction to his intent to depart. Which only confirmed his decision to leave was a good one, really.
Astarion nodded deferentially and started out the office door, only to nearly run straight into Corweth, who’d apparently been lingering in the hallway just outside. She silently studied his face, blinking, then walked away gingerly, without so much as a word.
He stared after her a moment, unsure if he should try to bid her goodbye just yet. Perhaps it would be best not to push his luck - their most recent interaction was surely pleasant enough to be his last.
Turning down the hall and towards his chambers, he counted out a message and spoke into the stone:
I know Evereska can be trying, but to leave for Baldur’s Gate without me, darling jailbird? I’m hurt. Where have you gone? I’ll join you.
He heard no immediate response, but that was hardly surprising. He was sure Tavya had her hands full with the damned children.
* * * * *
When the sun finally set, Corweth wasn’t there to see Astarion off.
The rest of the household lingered at the entrance to the estate as Astor bid him farewell with a firm handshake and a perfunctory promise to visit Baldur’s Gate someday. Iddy offered to walk him all the way to the city gate, and seeing as he owed the man his life, Astarion figured accepting the invitation was the least he could do.
Iddy’s company wasn’t completely unpleasant, either, as the two walked down the hill side-by-side – it was nice to have someone to help Astarion carry all the luggage, seeing as Tavya had rather inconsiderately left all of hers behind.
“For what it’s worth, Astarion, I think you might be doing the right thing. Evereska can be… well, it’s a bit like living in a bubble. One that changes you if you stay in it too long.”
Astarion nodded, considering. “Why do you stay? As a bard, surely you know you could make a tidy sum playing the Sword Coast.”
“The thought has crossed my mind. When I first came to Evereska, I was hardly in the right state of mind. Your mother took care of me – that was reason enough to stay, at first. Then ‘at first’ became ‘for now,’ until soon enough two centuries had passed; by the time I started to think about leaving, I already had too many reasons to stay.”
“Oh, so you do have reasons? May I ask what they are?” Astarion asked, with all the boldness of someone who would probably never see this man again.
“I-” Iddy stuttered. “Raen—!”
Astarion looked over to see him ignoring his question and instead waving down to the crowded square ahead of them. He waved the woman down, and she was quick to introduce her spirited little gait to their plodding twosome.
“Nice to see you boys getting along,” she quipped, pulling the flowing hood of her robe down off of her face. “Guess even you couldn’t resist Iddy’s charms, eh?”
Iddy blushed deep enough for even a non-vampire to notice, although Raen didn’t seem to.
“So, what brings you down from Ancunín hill this evening?”
“Astarion is leaving us, unfortunately.”
Raen arched an eyebrow. “And Tavya? I heard that—”
“Terrible misunderstanding, all that,” Astarion was quick to interject. “In fact, my wife is already on her way home. I’m just, uh, catching up.”
Raen’s eyes narrowed. “She’s already out of the city?”
“Well, yes, but I should be able to make good time, so it’s—”
“We’d better hurry, then!” Raen replied good-naturedly, with a pragmatic kindness that Astarion hadn’t expected from her. As the gate of Evereska approached overhead, she waved ahead to the guards brashly, once again hardly the picture of the highborn girl she was. “Guards, excuse me! Lady Duirsar herself, coming through!”
Astarion and Iddy trailed behind, the latter watching the scene play out with a wide grin.
“My Lady,” asked one guard, an older man with grizzled features that seemed to have been softened by Raen’s presence alone. “How can we be of assistance?”
She started in on the poor man, her voice prim. “My friend Astarion is just leaving. He’s in a bit of a hurry, so if you could just get started on the gate…?” She gestured to the young man manning the chains meant to lift the portcullis. The young one actually started fussing with the chains and Astarion was becoming quite impressed with how efficient this city could be until the young man’s hands were stayed by the older guard.
“I’m terribly sorry, Lady Duirsar, But there was a situation with an imposter in the city today. The High Huntsman has ordered no one in or out of the city without a permit until they can confirm the situation is now secure.”
Astarion’s throat tightened. No, that couldn’t be right.
Raen, for her part, seemed undeterred. “Fine, but I am the Hill Lord’s daughter, who, last I checked, outranks the High Huntsman. And I’m telling you to open this gate.”
The guard looked genuinely apologetic but stood firm as he fast grew red with excuses. “I can’t, Lady Duirsar. You’ll have to speak to the council. My apologies.”
Raen and the guard argued back and forth like that for a minute, Iddy even bold enough to interject at times, as Astarion felt the walls of Evereska close in around him. He looked back into the city, now almost sinister in its green resplendence: every vine a tether, every shrub an assassin’s lair, every tree a ladder that didn’t quite reach far enough.
He felt so unbearably restricted, in fact, that suddenly shoving the nice guard up against a wall and attempting to force his way out the gate seemed like the only thing he could do.
The man sputtered and coughed as Astarion grabbed him, but still managed to choke out a few words. “Lord Astor’s son? I’d have expected you to act in a manner more— civil—”
Astarion’s voice was ice. “The moment for civility passed the moment you hauled my wife away in chains– ”
“I don’t know anything about that, saer, I’m—”
Then, for the second time that day, Iddy removed Astarion from a bad situation, yanking him away from the guards and walking him in the opposite direction, further into the belly of the bestial city that was keeping him. Astarion might’ve gone back for a second try if he hadn’t known Iddy definitely had more spells left to spend.
Astarion overheard Raen giving out profuse apologies to the guard he’d accosted before walking over to join them. When she returned, she and Iddy exchanged a look that told him they were lucky to be walking away without further incident.
Iddy cleared his throat. “I think you could use a drink, Astarion–”
“We all could,” Raen offered dryly.
“Let’s go down to the pub, we can chat a bit.”
And part of Astarion wanted to accept, knew that it was the responsible choice, and was probably what Tavya would want him to do. You might as well spend time with them if you’re stuck there anyway, she’d say. To which he would say, I’d happily be doing so if you hadn’t left me here.Alone.
The conflict must’ve been obvious on his face, because neither of his companions looked surprised when Astarion declined. “You two go on ahead. I… I have to figure out my plans.”
Iddy looked ready to stop him, but Raen shot him a look and he seemed powerless against her. “Be safe,” she offered, as he stalked past them and into the dark streets.
And so Astarion spent the rest of the night wandering Evereska without any real scheme to it, just mindlessly searching for signs of Tavya, patting his pockets every few minutes just to make sure he still had the sending stone on him and confirming that yes, it was still in earshot, just silent for reasons that were probably completely benign, he shouldn’t worry because she wouldn’t want him to worry unnecessarily, although that’s her fault, really, isn’t it, since she left him here—
Gods, is this how it had felt for Gale?
Astarion shook away the thought the first, second, and third times it occurred to him. It wasn’t the same at all, he decided. They’d be back together soon.
He searched everywhere he could think of for her, just in case. Sneaking into the jail, verifying the prison logs, that she’d been there and been released, that she wasn’t among the assortment of drunken elves and petty thieves that made up the other inhabitants, was easy enough.
He also took the time to ensure they weren’t just holding her in some sinister backroom of the Unicorn and Crescent, nor was she being held up in Astor’s cellar. All the while he scouted for other routes of egress from the city, but gods if the damn elves didn’t keep their precious city locked up tighter than a patriar’s purse. Not to mention, stealthy operations became significantly more difficult with 4 people’s worth of luggage strapped to one's person.
Having exhausted his mind as well as his search, Astarion spent the last remaining darkness of the wee dawn hours creeping through the Ancunín garden, half expecting Tavya to leap out into his arms from the shadows, having bested the guards and ready to set his heart at ease once more.
He waited a while, just in case. But the night remained as still and silent as ever.
Fishing the sending stone out of his pocket, Astarion cleared his throat and tried to coax his voice into having some semblance of levity, then thought out a message before he spoke into the stone.
You overestimate my ability to fend for myself, I think. I’m going to be delayed. Let me know you’re safe, love, when you can?
He hesitated, about to close the connection, before realizing he had one word left.
Please?
But still, he received no reply.
