Chapter Text
After all of the bonding that a tense journey to save the world brings, the nautiloid crash survivors had grown quite close. The group had formed an almost familial closeness in the few months that they had shared together. However, all good things must come to an end. After destroying the Netherbrain, everyone went their separate ways.
Karlach chose life and decided to head to Avernus, accompanied by the newly dubbed “Blade of Avernus,” who vowed to protect his dear friend. Jaheira stayed in the city, but headed for her children. Now living with them once more, she decided to help rebuild the Harpers in the area, after the fiasco that left only Geraldus behind. Minsc decided to stay with her for some time, he claimed Boo wanted to spend time with his “nieces and nephews.” But if you ask Jaheira, she thinks he really just didn’t know where else to go, since the last two times he was alone, he was a statue, and ended up following a shapechanger and doing the Absolute's bidding. Shadowheart decided to move on to some place new, in the name of soul-searching. After learning the truth, but also finding and losing her parents in one fell swoop, she felt she needed to fully reinvent and find herself, and that was something she had to do on her own.
After Orpheus sacrificed himself to ceremorphosis, he joined the shadows of society to watch as Lae’zel went on her own path to liberate her people, freeing them of Vlaakith once and for all. Gale decided that handing over the Crown of Karsus to Mystra simply wasn’t worth it, nor was the risk of that sort of power falling into anyone’s hands. He chose to leave the crown where it was and to live with the orb, finding freedom within himself rather than from circumstance, with power, or through Mystra. In the end, he stayed behind in Baldur’s Gate to help rebuild. Halsin, as well, did the same. He desperately wanted to help the people, the children, impacted by the calamity. However, he and Gale were stationed in two different parts of the city. Gale was located in the Upper City, and Halsin was stationed in the Lower City.
After defeating the Netherbrain, Nahlia felt like she was given a second chance, she could finally start anew, redefine herself. She could be more than what Bhaal made her to be, now that she was cured. She was finally given an opportunity to live her own life outside of murderous urges, and outside of saving the world. Yet, there was one thing she could not shake, no matter how hard she tried.
Alfira’s death. The poor, sweet tiefling girl had only wanted to join their group. She was innocent. She had wanted to be a hero. And how did Nahlia welcome her? With a brutal, slow and excruciating, gruesome demise. It tore her apart. Thankfully, she didn’t have to shoulder it alone. She had Astarion.
Gods, Astarion. She was so proud of him. He had grown so much. He had become such a beautiful soul.
It hadn't been easy after 200 years worth of terror and a pretty façade. He had many, many walls around it. Nonetheless, he still did it. He overcame those walls. He let people in, he began facing his trauma, he put his guard down, he began letting kindness win. He began choosing it, for the most part.
But her heart ached for him.
After everything he had been through, the absolute very least that man deserved was some peace. He deserved a happy ending. Yet, he often wondered if that were something that simply would never be in the cards for him.
He had spent over 200 years enslaved and tortured, forced into sexual acts he did not want to commit, treated like a worthless animal.
But it was all he ever knew.
He had been taught the world was a cruel and abusive place, where everyone only ever cared about themselves. Any attempt at “kindness” in this world was just a means to an end, an ulterior motive behind it, a cold and calculated manipulation. He had practically been raised to believe it. How could he ever think anything else? After all, he had only been 39 at his time of death. He hadn’t even been considered an adult. He had hardly even gotten to live.
Thanks to Nahlia, he began to unlearn this. She had saved him in every sense of the word.
She saved him from Cazador, she saved him from himself. She began to show him something new.
She made him feel safe, she made him feel seen. For the first time in all of his memory, he began to believe that perhaps his thoughts, opinions, wants, and feelings mattered. Perhaps, just perhaps, he mattered too. He finally was able to say no to the hand he had been dealt. He could write his own destiny, he could do anything the world had to offer. Until, of course, he began to burn up in the sun...
Once more, he felt like a prisoner. It all felt like a cruel joke to him, really.
He tried to remind himself that at least he was not alone, not anymore. After he ran off with skin singed, Nahlia had sought him out. Once he could safely get from point A to point B, the pair returned to the Elfsong Tavern. After a brief and well needed rest, the two discussed what was to come. Astarion hoped wherever the shadows would lead him, Nahlia would follow. Gods, he hoped.
But why would she give up her new beginning just to live an empty shell of a life, hidden away in the darkness?
Thankfully, his mind quieted when Nahlia had suggested searching for a way for him to walk in the sun again. It seemed a bit… ambitious. But he trusted her, more than anyone else. And if she thought there was any slight possibility, maybe it was worth it to at least try.
And so they tried. They had exchanged sending stones with Gale, Halsin, Jaheira, and Minsc who had all promised if they heard of any leads in the area, they would immediately pass it along. They wrote Shadowheart as well, asking her to do the same if she found any leads on the road. Sadly, their companions had so far come across nothing. In their own time, the two would scour the entire city, all night long. They were desperate for something, anything at all. Even during the day, Nahlia would go alone and search even further, whilst he hid away in the Elfsong with closed curtains, or while he rested.
Rest… how he wished she’d get some.
She barely slept anymore. Astarion felt extremely guilty for that, and to make matters worse, it was all for nothing in the end.
After all, they were getting nowhere.
“Have patience, love,” she would tell him, “It’s only been a few weeks,” she’d go on.
But it didn’t matter how long it had been. He had spent so much time wasting away due to Cazador, and he just wanted to start anew. He didn’t have any time left within himself to give. He wanted to forge his own future, more than anything. But as long as the sun was his enemy, he’d never be able to do that.
That little fact was quickly beginning to eat away at him.
He’d try to not let the mask slip, to not show how much it truly bothered him. He knew, of course, he was safe with Nahlia to be vulnerable about this. But force of habit, sometimes he found it incredibly difficult to not just plaster on a false smile, throw a few empty quips, and act like all was well. Of course, it never worked. Nahlia always managed to see right through him.
Alas, he tried nonetheless.
Astarion opened the curtain to their tavern room, allowing himself to bathe in the starlight, breathing the world in. He turned his head, gazing at Nahlia, who was clearly struggling to put on her armor. Her fatigue was clear as day, between the bloodloss of his feeding, and the lack of sleep. His chest quickly filled with a feeling he couldn’t quite put a name to.
He approached her backside with gentle eyes, “Need some help, dear?”
They surely didn’t need armor just to walk around Baldur’s Gate. But after everything they had been through, it made Nahlia feel safer. Everywhere she went, unless she was in their room, she had to have some sort of protection on her. She’d make Astarion wear his too. But it was alright, he understood. Besides, it made Astarion feel more at ease knowing if anything should go wrong, she’d be protected by more than just her own ability, even if she was quite the paladin.
He couldn’t blame her, either. Everywhere he went he had to have some sort of weapon on him, even if it was just to go downstairs, further into the tavern. What a mess the two were…
Nahlia fastened the final part of her armor, which once belonged to Ketheric Thorm. She wore it almost like a badge of honor, that she bested the Dead Three.
That she was her own woman now, free of Bhaal.
She shook her head, “I’ve got it, but thank you.”
Astarion hummed gently, placing his hands on her hips and leaving a delicate peck behind her petite, pointed ear, “Are you sure you want to go out tonight? If you need to rest, we can stay put for now.”
Nahlia turned around slowly, wrapping her own arms around the elven man’s small waist. She peered up at him, shooting him a subtle, but knowing look, “Are you sure you want to go out tonight?”
His expression suddenly dropped. How could she always see into his soul like that, without fail? She saw everything he was trying to hide.
Did he want to?
Was it even worth it? Every night, the couple would go out. Every night, he’d get his hopes up, and every night, he’d feel shittier and shittier as they achieved nothing. Every night, their goal would feel more and more out of reach. He was grateful he'd at least get to share those nights with Nahlia, but gods, it still stung.
He opened his mouth hesitantly, but before any sort of answer could even come out, he was interrupted by an all too familiar voice.
“Hello?,” Gale’s voice rang from Nahlia’s bag, “Astarion? Nahlia? Can anyone hear me?”
Both Astarion and Nahlia’s attention was quickly grasped by their friend’s voice coming from the sending stone on the other side of the room, turning their heads immediately in near unison. Astarion quickly removed his hands from Nahlia and dashed to the bag. He practically tore it apart in the process, due to it constantly being overfilled, to search for the stone. He hated how messy her bag was. He’d have to help her organize it, but that was a problem for another time.
As soon as he got his hands on the stone, he swore his dead heart could have beaten out of his chest, “Yes?” Words escaped his mouth with a sense of urgency and shortness behind them, “What is it?”
“Ah, Astarion, just the man I wanted to speak to.” Gale responded with a particular friendliness about his voice, “Are you and Nahlia still lodged at the Elfsong Tavern? I’ve something I’d like to discuss with you.”
Nahlia made her way over to where Astarion was kneeling on the ground over the bag, holding the sending stone in front of his face. She hovered over him from behind but made sure to make herself known, not just to listen to the conversation, but to also act as a sense of stability, of comfort, in case he ended up needing it.
With a loud scoff and an eye roll, Astarion waved his free arm all whilst shouting in exasperation, almost like a child, “Seriously!? You can’t just tell me now!?”
“Astarion,” Gale’s own sense of annoyance began to bleed through the sending stone, albeit more subtle, “If you’d be willing to cooperate, I could be at your door in a matter of minutes.”
Astarion groaned, as if trying to make sure Gale knew just how bothered he was, “Fine.” With a pout to his voice, he quickly and quietly uttered, “Yes, we’re still at the Elfsong.”
“Beautiful!” Gale proclaimed with a satisfied smile in his voice, “I shall see you very soon.”
Astarion slowly twisted his head over his right shoulder, meeting eyes with the small tiefling woman standing above him, unreadable looks on both of their faces.
These next few minutes could change everything for them.