Chapter 1: Christmas Eve in Baldur’s Gate
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Minthara was dead, to begin with. There’s no doubt about that, Soldier. The official paperwork was signed by all the important folks who were supposed to sign those sorts of things, plus the old lady’s only mourner—Astarion Ancunín. He signed the certificate and that was that, Old Minty was dead as a doornail. (To be honest, Soldier, I never really understood that phrase. What’s particularly dead about a doornail? Is it any deader than other types of nails?) Well, whatever, point is: Minthara was definitely, unequivocally dead.
And Astarion knew she was dead, obviously. I mean how could he not? He was the only one that old bat really talked to. Astarion was her business partner and I guess the closest thing she had to a friend—not that Astarion was all that broken up about her death mind you. Anyway, I'm explaining all this to make it super clear that Minthara was definitely dead, because if you don’t know that then this story isn’t gonna make much sense, and you won’t understand what’s so special about it!
But hang on, I’m getting ahead of myself. For now, all you need to know is that Minthara and Astarion had worked together for years at their law firm: Ancunín & Banre Associates. Even though Old Minty was dead, Astarion never bothered to take her name off of the sign that hung outside their office, so sometimes people would come in thinking Astarion was her. Between you and me Soldier, most people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between them anyway. Sure Astarion was a high elf and Minthara was a drow who hailed from the Underdark, but Astarion was as cold and unfeeling as his partner, dead or alive. Seriously! He was just about the meanest, most miserable arsehole in Baldur’s Gate now that Minthara was gone. Dogs and kids would run and hide when he came down the street, and I’ve always said that dogs and kids are the best judges of character.
(You know, Soldier, it just occurred to me that you might be a little confused. I’m a bit of a mind reader, you know, a little trick I picked up in Avernus. I bet you’re wondering why us Faerûnian types even celebrate Christmas. It’s a long story involving extraplanar travelers from a realm they call “earth”. Suffice it to say, many Faerûnians and others from our realm have adopted cultural celebrations and religions from over there. We’re cultured like that, mate.)
Now, most people are happy when they’re hanging out with family and friends, or going adventuring, or eating their favorite foods, but the only thing that made Astarion happy was making money, so that’s all he ever focused on. He ran the firm with the help of his secretary Gale Dekarios. Gale was a real bookish guy who worked really hard—Way harder than Astarion was paying him for if you ask me (I know you didn’t ask me, but I’m the one telling the story so tough nuts, Soldier). Anyway I think that’s enough setup, let’s get into this!
One snowy day in Baldur’s Gate, Astarion was going through paperwork, which is about the most boring thing you could do on a snowy day, especially so close to the holidays. But that was his idea of fun, I guess. Gale was huddled in a corner working and trying his best to keep warm, which was difficult considering how little coal Astarion let him put on the fire. That was just one of his many “cost saving measures”, because gods was he ever stingy. So there they were, working in silence, when suddenly the door flew open and a friendly man walked in.
“Merry Christmas, Cousin!”
Astarion barely glanced up before returning his attention to his computer screen. “Hello Wyll. Is there a reason you’re barging into my office on a workday?”
“I thought I made that part clear with the whole ‘saying Merry Christmas’ thing,” Wyll laughed.
“In other words, you’re here to waste my time. Unsurprising.” Astarion hardly bothered to look up as he spoke. Wyll didn’t seem too bothered by his cousin’s bitter ass attitude (which makes him a hell of a lot better than me if I’m honest). “What have you got to be so ‘merry’ about anyway? You’re poor enough.”
Wyll shrugged, “Well, what have you got to be so miserable about? You’re rich enough.”
Astarion couldn’t think of any particularly clever response to that, so he just muttered something about Christmas being a waste of time again.
“I don’t consider Christmas a waste of time at all, cousin. In fact, that’s why I’m here—I wanted to invite you to visit my home tomorrow.”
Astarion scoffed, “And just what in the hells makes you think I’d want to do a fool thing like that?”
“Well, I suppose I don’t think you want to,” began Wyll, “but I felt like inviting you anyway. We are family after all.”
“A mere technicality, our parents were only step-siblings.”
“Technicality or not, Shadowheart and I would love to have you over for our dinner party tomorrow night.”
“I’ll see you in Avernus first,” The lawyer replied icily.
“But why? Why so cold-hearted, cousin? I want nothing from you but your company, and it’s been ages since anyone has seen you. Do you truly think Christmas is a waste of time?”
“Of course I do. What is Christmas but a time for people to rack up debts and wake up a day older and not a gold piece richer? If I had things my way, every fool who runs about wishing people a ‘Merry Christmas’ would be hanged in the Lower City square.”
“Cousin!” Wyll exclaimed.
“Cousin!” Astarion replied bluntly. “Celebrate Christmas your own way and leave me be. It’s not as though it’s ever done you any good.”
Wyll smiled and shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Cousin. There are plenty of things that have done me good without being strictly profitable, and Christmas perhaps most of all. I’ve always thought of it as a time where people are more likely to open up their hearts and consider everyone else’s feelings, at least for a little while. We are all simply passengers to the grave, after all. Why shouldn’t we fill up our brief days on Torril with love and caring for each other? So while you’re right that it’s never made me any richer, I do believe it has done me plenty of good indeed.”
A burst of applause was suddenly heard from Gale’s little corner—seems he liked the speech. Wyll’s always been a great speaker in my expert opinion. But of course, Astarion had to be a wet blanket about it.
“Another sound out of you, Dekarios, and you’ll be celebrating Christmas by looking for another job.” Snapped Astarion before turning back to Wyll. “You’re quite the moving speaker, Cousin. Perhaps you ought to join your father on the Ducal Council.”
“Very funny. Well, the invitation is open if you change your mind. Who knows? You might even enjoy yourself for once!” Wyll headed back towards the door. “In any case, Merry Christmas, Cousin! And a Happy New Year. And a very Merry Christmas to you, Mr. Dekarios” Wyll tipped his hat toward the secretary, who happily returned the greeting. As Wyll walked out, two other blokes from the local druid grove walked in—Halsin and Rath. “Good afternoon! Do I have the pleasure of speaking to Mr. Ancunín or Mr. Banre?” Halsin began.
“Gods, more visitors. I suppose it would be too much for me to expect that you’re here on some matter of actual importance.” Astarion sighed. “I am Ancunín, if you must know. Banre was a woman for one and is dead for another. She passed away seven years ago today in fact.”
“Our belated condolences, Saer.” Rath began. “You see, during this festive season it has been customary to ask the more well-to-do of Baldur’s Gate to contribute a small donation to the less fortunate.”
“The less fortunate? And just who would that be?” Asked Astarion, looking almost amused.
“Well, there are many who live impoverished lives here, refugees and the like.” Halsin answered. “Your generosity can help provide them with meals and shelters.”
“I see. Are the prisons at Wyrm’s Rock filled up then?”
Rath looked puzzled. “Not… to my knowledge, Saer.”
“And the Steel Watch Foundry? Is it still in operation?”
“It is,” Halsin replied grimly, “Though I wish I could say otherwise.”
“Excellent! And here I feared some tragedy had occurred to stop them in their useful course.” Astarion smiled at the men, but his eyes betrayed his sarcasm and malice. Halsin cleared his throat,
“Yes… well. We came today in the hopes that you might consider a generous donation. How much should we put you down for?”
“Nothing.” Astarion answered flatly.
“You wish to remain anonymous?” Asked Rath, looking up from his clipboard.
“No. I wish to be left alone. I don’t make merry myself during Christmas, and I hardly have money to waste making idle people merry. I already pay my taxes to support the institutions I mentioned, and those in need can go there if they’re so desperate for assistance.” Halsin and Rath looked at each other, sharing in the realization that they might be wasting their time. Halsin took a deep breath before responding.
“Many… Cannot go there, Mr. Ancunín.” Rath nodded before adding
“And many, to be quite frank, would rather die.”
Astarion remained impassive, unmoved by their concerns. “Then what’s stopping them? If they are to die they ought to get on with it, there are far too many people crowding the city as it is. Now if that’s all, gentlemen, I’ve had quite enough interruptions for one day.” He gestured to the door, “I trust you can see yourselves out.” The two men did so, but not before Gale handed them a little money and muttered something apologetic. Rath gratefully shook his hand and wished him a Merry Christmas as they walked out of the door.
“How generous, Dekarios” Astarion remarked sardonically. “Perhaps I'm paying you too much if you can afford to fritter your money away on hopeless causes like that.”
“I don’t think it’s hopeless, Mr. Ancunín,” Gale answered quietly. “And everyone should try to be a bit more generous at Christmas.”
“It’s foolish notions like that keeping people in the Outer City slums,” his employer scoffed dismissively. “Always ready to waste time and money on unimportant frivolities. Speaking of which, I suppose you’ll want the day off tomorrow?”
“Well, yes, that is what we agreed to, isn’t it?”
Astarion huffed. “I suppose, but it’s terribly inconvenient. These cases need filing with the Ducal Council very soon.”
“It’s only one day, Mr. Ancunín. I’ll make sure to get them all filed before the deadline.” Gale promised.
“Hmph. One day or not it seems frankly ridiculous to waste good work time. But if you must have the whole day, I trust you’ll be here all the earlier the next morning.” (Fuck sake, can you believe that, Soldier? The man can’t even give poor Gale a night off without making a fuss!) Gale simply nodded, “I understand. Thank you for giving me the time off. Is there anything else I can do here before we close up?”
“Plenty, but I suppose it’ll keep. I’ve seen enough of you today.” Astarion dismissed his secretary with a wave of his hand and went back to his typing. After another half hour or so, he shut off his computer and headed home himself, pulling a thick wool coat around his shoulders. Halsin and Rath and Gale and Wyll could all keep their silly celebrations if they wished, but he had no need for them. Tomorrow was just another day, and there was no sense wasting a perfectly profitable workday with mindless, sentimental nonsense.
Chapter 2: The Static Silhouette
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On the streets of the Lower City, children ran about playing and singing Christmas songs while adults were bustling about the markets buying things and greeting each other. The air was filled with wonderful smells of freshly baked treats and warm fruit cider (my personal favorite thing to order at the Elfsong). Of course that wasn’t good enough for grumpy old Astarion, who only wrinkled his nose as he pushed past the crowd.
When Astarion arrived at his flat, the noise of the city had quieted significantly, which was just how he liked it.
(He intentionally got an out-of-the-way place to live to minimize his contact with others, frankly the nicest thing he ever did if you ask me. Who’d want their day ruined by having to look at that sour old face?)
When Astarion went to unlock his front door, something strange caught his eye. He could have sworn he saw something that looked like a face appear on the door knocker, but the second he looked up, it was gone. “That’s odd,” he muttered to himself. “That almost looked like– well, nevermind.” He shook his head as though dismissing the thought and went back to unlocking the door. He stepped inside and stomped the snow from his boots before hanging up his coat on the hook behind the door. Then he shuffled over to his kitchen and heated up a frozen dinner (what a sorry Holiday meal, right?). He flipped on the TV in the living room and sat on the couch to eat powdered potatoes and Salisbury steak. He could have afforded something much better, of course, but he was such a skinflint that he barely even spent money on himself.
Ancunín…
Astarion sat up straighter and muted his TV with the remote, looking around for the source of the noise. He could have sworn someone had called his name. After a moment or two passed in silence, he shrugged and unmuted the TV.
Ancunín…
There it was again. How peculiar. “Blasted old set,” he shook his head. “Probably just hearing weird static or something.”
Suddenly, the tv flickered and shut off entirely. Before Astarion could try the remote, the screen lit up again, but this time there was only cracking static. The cracking seemed to hiss in an audible pattern, like a word… or a name.
Ancunín …
Just as the lawyer was starting to get a little creeped out, the static changed again, this time visually. It formed into the shape of a familiar silhouette, and Astarion blinked at it in confusion as the shape neared the edges of the screen and then… Well there’s no sane way to say this, Soldier, but the shape stepped out of the TV. Astarion drew back in horror and confusion as the static silhouette walked into the center of the room and slowly coalesced into a familiar form. It couldn’t be—It was…
“Banre?” Astarion sat in stunned silence as he saw his old partner standing in his living room. “How in the hells– You’re… you’re dead !”
“Observant as ever. ” The severe-looking drow woman glowered at him with a touch of annoyance.
“Wha– then how are you here?”
“Well obviously I am a ghost , Ancunín. And this will go much faster if you limit such inane questions.” It was Minthara, alright, just as curt and rude as ever. Astarion took a deep breath and pressed his hands to his temples.
“Ok… Obviously this dinner’s gone off or something. This is just a dream, or a hallucination maybe. You–” He pointed to the drow, “You are not here. You… You can’t be.”
“Deny your senses if you wish, Ancunín, you always were a stubborn fool. But whether you accept it or not it is me, and I have a message for you.” Minthara glided towards the chair opposite the couch and lowered herself onto it. Astarion noticed that she did not actually touch the ground, but rather floated slightly above it. As she sat down, he heard the faint clank of metal upon metal and noticed the long grey chains that shackled her ankles and wrists, as well as wrapped around her waist.
“What are those?” Astarion asked cautiously, his eyes scanning her bonds.
“What in the hells do they look like? They are chains, Ancunín, my chains. The ones I forged in life, link by link and yard by yard.” Minthara’s voice held a note of uncharacteristic sorrow. “Those of us who dwell in the fugue plane all carry the bonds that we died with.”
“Are they… terribly heavy?”
Minthara laughed coldly, “More inane questions, darthirr . I know your kind are not terribly bright, but do try to keep up.”
“Fine, underelf,” Astarion’s shock had faded somewhat as he found himself returning Minthara’s jab as they often did when she was living. “How’s this for a question: What are you doing here? It must be awfully important for you to show up seven years later, to say nothing of the whole TV static bit. I suppose you always did have a flair for the dramatic.”
The drow smiled slightly, “finally you are asking something halfway worthwhile. I am here to give you a message. You see, you have chains of your own, Ancunín. Your chain was as long as mine seven years ago, and it has only gotten longer and heavier.”
“Indeed?” Astarion looked around and at his hands and feet in an exaggerated manner. “I don’t see them.”
“Of course you do not, as they are not visible in life. But believe me, Ancunín, yours is a ponderous chain. Your cruelty and selfishness will haunt you even more than mine if you do not heed my warning.”
“What the hells are you even talking about, Banre? You of all people are hardly one to judge my cruelty or selfishness when yours was just as legendary.” Astarion charged. “We did what we had to for the business, something I thought we were always in agreement on.”
Minthara nodded, “Indeed we were. But things changed when I died. The weight of my actions— our actions—was heavier than I could have imagined. I realized too late that business was not the only thing I should have attended to.”
“What do you mean?” Astarion stared, puzzled. “What else is there?”
“Friendship, family, love, the needs of others around us. Believe me, Ancunín, I know you will dismiss these things as sentimental nonsense, just as I would have when I was alive. Only in death could I see the value that lies with investing in common welfare.”
“Gods, I really must be going mad.” Astarion shook his head. “I’m hallucinating someone who looks like my old partner, but couldn’t possibly be her. The Minthara Banre I knew would never say anything half so absurd. What’s happened to you?”
Minthara glowered at Astarion before rising from her seat and rushing him while rattling her chains emphatically. The spectre she became was large and terrifying, her face twisted into something inhuman and a loud, disembodied wailing noise filled the room. The shutters on the windows crashed and clattered and the wind howled, adding to the cacophony.
“ This happened to me, you pompous fool! Look at me, do not deflect with wit or dismiss what you see as mere imagination. Look ! ”
Astarion once again looked terrified, sinking back into the couch as though he hoped it would swallow him. “ Gods ! Alright, I’m looking! D-don’t come any closer!” Minthara’s face returned to normal as she smirked down at the cowering elf.
“As craven as ever, Ancunín. But at least you are ready to listen. You are being given an opportunity, one that I was never afforded. Tonight, you will be visited by three spirits.”
“Oh gods, more spirits? I don’t think I can handle much more of this nightmare.” Astarion looked somewhat distraught.
“I assure you, this ‘nightmare’ is a small price to pay, and nothing compared to what I face daily.” Minthara was unsympathetic to her former partner’s emotional state. “As I said, you will be met by 3 spirits, and they shall help you know how to proceed. Unless of course you would prefer to accompany me back to the Fugue Plane and start your torment now. Would that be more to your satisfaction?” Minthara’s voice dripped sarcasm.
“Well… No. I– I suppose not.” Astarion admitted. “Still, three spirits? Couldn’t you just summarize whatever they were going to say? Or could I have them all at once and get it over with?”
“No,” the drow replied flatly. “No shortcuts for you this time, Ancunín. Expect the first visitor when the clock strikes one. Now, I fear I must take my leave. I am not permitted to stray long from the Fugue Plane.”
Astarion shook his head as if trying to clear his mind while he processed everything that was happening. Finally he asked, “Why did you come here at all? Why… why warn me?”
Minthara paused, and an expression that Astarion could not quite interpret flashed across her face.
“Because… because you were… my friend, Ancunín. Perhaps the only one I truly had. If there is even a chance to spare you my fate, I owe you that much.” She heaved a deep sigh before a slight, sad smile returned to her face, “And you know how I have always loathed owing people.”
Astarion said nothing at first, only looking at his old friend and feeling a pang of sadness for the first time in years. Perhaps he had missed her more than he realized.”Well… thank you, I suppose,” he began awkwardly, clearing his throat. “That is to say I– well I mean I did– I did miss you, Minthara.”
Minthara’s normally severe expression softened as she nodded slightly. “And I you, Astarion. I sincerely hope you are able to avoid my fate.” (Aw, just look at these old softies! I mean make no mistake, Soldier, they were both enormous arseholes. Meaner than snakes, the pair of them. Still, I guess even arseholes have their sensitive side peek through now and then.)
With this, the chains rattled loudly and Minthara winced as if in pain before beginning to fade. “I can stay no longer. Heed the spirits, old friend. It may be your last chance.” And then she was gone, and Astarion was once again alone in his flat, the air still crackling with energy as the soft glow of the TV lit the room.
Chapter 3: Whispers From the Past
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The night was quiet as snow fell softly down to cover the footprints left by busy shoppers during the day. Astarion had mostly recovered from his supernatural encounter with Minthara, and had almost successfully convinced himself that it was no more than a bad dream. Perhaps he had dozed off on the couch without realizing it. In any case, he decided to turn in for the night. After climbing into his large canopy bed he lay there in silence for a moment, listening intently. All he could hear was the slow ticking of his wall clock and a few passing cars crunching through the snow. He had just about drifted off to sleep when
*DONG*
The sound of a clock bell woke him, and he sat straight up in bed. Here’s the freaky part, Soldier:
Astarion’s clock didn’t have a bell.
“What in the nine hells?” He looked around, squinting into the darkness. Moonlight shone softly into the room from his window, and he was just about to walk over and take a look outside when an unfamiliar voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Hello, Astarion.” The elf froze, then jumped from the bed while grabbing the titanium bat he kept underneath and brandishing it in the darkness.
“W-what? Who’s there?”
Slowly, a figure walked out of the darkness. It was an older woman, a half-elf with greying blonde hair plaited in beaded braids that fell down her back and around her shoulders. She was shorter than Astarion and slight in frame, but the muscles of her arms betrayed some level of combat experience. A faint glow hung around her like a halo, and her voice echoed slightly when she spoke. “Swing if you must, boy, but I fear you would be wasting your energy.” The woman remarked with an amused look as she floated over to him.
“Oh, the floating bit again. I suppose you must be the spirit that Banre mentioned.”
“I am one of them, yes.” The old woman inclined her head. “You may call me Jaheira. I am the spirit of Christmas Past.”
“Long past?” Asked the elf warily, slowly lowering the bat.
“No, just your past.” Jaheira replied. “I am here to show you shadows of things that were. They live within your own memory, and I have the power to manifest them temporarily.”
Astarion slumped back onto his bed. “Fantastic, and I suppose that’s what you plan to do. Mind you, I’m still fairly certain this is all just a dream.”
Jaheira chuckled, “It is no dream, Astarion. I am only here to help you. Come,” she reached out her hand. “Take my hand and we will make our first stop.” Astarion stared at her hand for a minute, contemplating simply lying back down and waiting until he’d actually woken up, but curiosity got the better of him and he hesitantly took Jaheira’s hand. “Excellent. Let us move.” The old woman waved her hands and in a swirl of snowy wind the two of them were swept onto a snow-covered lawn in broad daylight, standing outside of a building that Astarion immediately recognized.
“Why it’s- this is my old boarding school.” He remarked with awe as he looked around.
“Indeed,” Jaheira nodded. “You spent many a Christmas here in your youth.”
“So I did. Look, there’s my old dorm! We should walk over and see-” in another flurry, Astarion found himself standing in the lobby of the dormitory as Jaheira floated next to him. “Perks of being a ghost? Fast traveling. I am not fond of long walks.” She explained.
“I see.” Astarion looked a bit bewildered but decided not to press the issue. “But won’t the people here see us?”
“No. Since these are mere shadows of the past, nothing we say or do will affect them. We can simply watch. And look over there,” she pointed, “There is someone who looks familiar.” Standing toward the far corner of the room was a young boy of about 12 with curly white-blond hair. He was clutching a few books in front of him and looking furtively around as if expecting something.
“That’s… me.” Astarion remarked with surprise. He still hadn’t completely adjusted to this strange, dream-like reality, but there was no mistaking what he saw before him. As he watched his younger self, two older boys passed right through him and Jaheira as though they were no more than air. So it was true then, they could not be seen, heard, or even felt by these shadows.
The two older boys approached the young Astarion menacingly, the shorter one–a gnome, snatched his books away while the bigger one–A tiefling, shoved the young elf roughly into the brick wall behind him.
“Morning, Ass -tarion!” The bigger boy laughed. “What'cha gonna do with all those books?”
“Yeah, everyone knows you’re too stupid to read ‘em,” mocked the shorter boy, waving the books just out of Astarion’s grasp as he struggled against the teifling’s grip.
“Let me go! And give those back!” He protested, but the bullies only laughed again before throwing him on the ground.
“Gee, Wully, maybe we’re being too hard on knife-ears. He’s just a runt after all, and he has nothing better to do but read since his mommy and daddy don’t even want him home for Christmas!” The tiefling boy laughed before kicking the little Astarion in the knee and causing him to cry out in pain.
“That’s not true, Rol,” The gnome argued with a cruel grin. “His mommy can’t want him anywhere, seeing as she’s dead. Isn’t that right, Ass -tarion?”
The little elf’s face grew red with anger as he forced himself back to his feet and shoved the gnome. “Don’t call me that! And don’t ever talk about my mother!” He shouted, though fear reflected in his hazel eyes. The gnome was temporarily knocked off balance but soon regained his footing with an angry glare. “You’ll pay for that, Ancunín!” He moved toward the elf with a raised fist before–
“Leave him alone!”
A voice cut through the air and the bullied whirled around to see another boy around Astarion’s age standing a few feet away. This boy was a tall half-elf with a stockier build and long white hair pulled into a ponytail.
The present-day Astarion stifled a gasp. “Oh gods, it’s–”
“Sebastian?” The tiefling boy looked annoyed. “Why don’t you ever mind your own business?”
“How about I make you my business, Rol?” The half-elf growled as he stepped closer. “Don’t forget who gave you that black eye last month.”
“That was just a lucky shot!” The tiefling looked indignant, but also clearly nervous. It seemed he found Sebastian intimidating in spite of himself. “Whatever, knife-ears isn’t worth the hassle anyway,” Rol huffed, pushing Astarion once more before shuffling off. “Just watch your back, Ancunín. Next time you might not have Prince Charming here to save you,” he sneered. “C’mon, Wully, let’s go.” The gnome shuffled off behind the tiefling and soon both boys had left the building. Sebastian shook his head before kneeling down to help young Astarion pick up his books and get back to his feet.
“You ok?” The half-elf asked in a friendly tone.
“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Astarion brushed some dirt off his pants. “Thanks for, um, thanks for your help I mean.” He continued sheepishly.
“Don’t mention it. I’m Sebastian, by the way. I’ve seen you around campus before. You’re new this semester aren’t you?”
Young Astarion nodded. “Yes, it’s my first year. I moved to the city with my father after…” he trailed off, thoughts of his mother pricking at him as he looked away shyly. “Never mind.”
“Well Astarion, if you don’t mind my saying so, you look like you could use a friend. I happen to be something of a friendship expert myself,” the half-elf grinned. “No pressure of course, but if you want someone to help make it feel a little less lonely around here, you can always hang out with me. My old man is usually out of the country for Christmas, so I know all about being stuck in this dump over the Winter Break. It’s really not so bad, you just have to make your own fun.” He laughed “And wouldn't you know it? I’m an expert in that too! So what do you say, wanna be pals?”
A small smile crossed young Astarion’s face as he nodded.
“Great!” clapped Sebastian, draping his arm around Astarions shoulder and guiding him toward the dining hall. “Lesson one, how to survive the food around here, Now it really isn’t awful so long as you know the right lunch ladies…” Sebastian’s voice trailed off as the new friends walked out of the room.
“Sebastian was a good friend to you.” Jaheira observed as she floated next to the adult Astarion.
The elf nodded slowly. “Yes, he was. He was a good friend to everyone, really. But he always stuck up for me. It made things… easier I guess. Not so lonely.”
“Oh my,” Jaheira remarked with a twinkle of mischief in her pale green eyes, “Do I detect a hint of a smile on that famously sour face, Astarion?”
“What? Oh um, it's nothing” he said quickly, clearing his throat. “Just a trick of the light or something.”
“Of course,” Jaheira smirked. “Well no matter, let us see another shadow together.” She waved her hands again and they traveled to a new location. Now they were standing outside of a brick building on a snowy evening. Light poured out of the frosty windows and a sign hung above the door that read Geddarm Family Law Offices
“Volothamp’s place! Why, I haven’t thought about it in years,” Astarion stared as he moved toward the door. He was only slightly surprised to see that he could simply pass through the solid front door like a ghost. He supposed the Jaheira apparition had lended him her ability. She wasn’t far behind him while he looked around the brightly lit room, decorated with fine tinsel and bows. A tall, lavishly decorated Christmas tree stood in the corner and the room was filled with the aroma of a fine feast.
“Mr. Geddarm!” A voice came from behind Astarion and he looked back to see a younger version of himself, no more than 21. “Mr. Geddarm, I have the paperwork you asked me to file. I only barely got to the printing place before it closed.”
“What a teacher’s pet,” teased a tall drow girl leaning against the wall. “That paperwork wasn’t even due until after Christmas.”
“Indeed it wasn’t, but I always applaud a little extra ambition, Minthara.” A lanky man dressed in rather garish colors chuckled as he came round the corner and accepted the paperwork Young Astarion had dutifully placed in a manilla folder. The elf stuck his tongue out at Minthara when their employer’s back was turned, and she rolled her eyes in response. “Thank you for getting these files, Astarion, but now is the time to stop working and have some fun. The annual office Christmas Party is tonight after all! Both of you have worked exceptionally hard as my apprentices this year, but to really help folks with the work we do, it's important to connect with the local community.”
Present Astarion smiled slightly, “That’s old Volo, alright. I think Christmas must have been his favorite time of the year.”
“Indeed. He used the event to welcome people from all over town into his office to celebrate, whether they were rich or poor,” Jaheira remarked. “And if I’m not mistaken, this internship is where you met your future law partner.”
A conflicted expression crossed Astarion’s face as he considered her words. “Yes… yes it was. Banre was driven, I was always just trying to catch up to her.”
“She was rather ruthless as well, is that right?”
“Well… Yes, I suppose some would describe her that way. But nobody gets to the top without fighting for it, especially not in the legal business.” He shrugged, “Volo was a fine lawyer, helped a lot of small people with small cases, but Minthara and I wanted more out of our careers than that.”
“Is success all that you wanted?” Jaheira raised a brow, “Volo seemed to be quite happy helping ‘small people with small cases’. Why do you think that was not good enough for you?”
Why indeed, Soldier. Astarion wasn’t used to having to answer tough questions like that. I think they call the concept “self-reflection”.
“Volo always told us that the work we did had to make a difference, or it wasn’t worth doing at all. I figured the bigger the job, the bigger the difference. So when Minthara started her firm and offered to make me a partner, it seemed to be the obvious choice.”
“Do you still believe that to be true?”
“I– well gods, why does it matter? Can’t we just watch the party?” Astarion’s face betrayed his discomfort with Jaheira’s line of questioning.
The old woman nodded, “Very well, we can do as you wish.” As the fondly remembered night went on, many people and families joined in the festivities, eating roast turkey and ham and drinking warm spiced cider. A few bards started up a reel with their instruments, and soon the halls were filled with dancing. Minthara was mostly seen sipping from a wine glass and striking up conversation with anyone she felt looked important—The girl was a natural at networking.
Young Astarion on the other hand had other things on his mind. Well into the evening, a tall young man with long white hair stepped into the party, his eyes scanning the room until they lit up upon seeing Astarion.
“Sebastian! I wasn’t sure you’d make it.” The young elf beamed as he met Sebastian at the door.
“I wasn’t sure either,” the half-elf laughed. “My miserable boss barely wanted to give us any time off, even on Christmas Eve!”
Young Astarion shyly took Sebastian’s hand. “Well, I'm really glad you were able to slip away.”
“You and me both,” Sebastian gently squeezed the hand he’d been given. “So, may I have this dance?” The two young men danced across the room as the jaunty music continued to play, hardly paying attention to anyone but each other despite how crowded the venue was.
“Aw, how very sweet.” Jaheira said in a slightly teasing tone. “You are not a half-bad dancer either.”
Present Astarion chuckled slightly in spite of himself, “Sebastian taught me everything I knew. It was a miracle, really. I’m convinced I was born with two left feet, but he somehow made it happen.”
Jaheira smiled and floated in silence for a few moments, allowing Astarion to take in the scene. After a bit, she spoke up again. “I have enjoyed sharing these shadows with you, my friend. But I’m afraid our time grows short, and we have one last stop to make.”
“Alright then, lead on.” By this time, Astarion had more or less accepted the supernatural field trip he was on. He still thought the whole thing was a bit mad, but there didn’t seem to be much point in resisting it. You know Soldier, he’d never admit it, but I think he was also really enjoying the memories.
In a flurry of snowy wind Astarion and Jaheira ended up outside of a flat, the very flat in which the elf currently lived.
“I thought you said we had one more stop?” He glanced at Jaheira quizzically. The woman nodded, “We do. This is your home, yes, but we are still in the past. Let us see what is happening inside.” She guided him through the wall and into Astarion’s living room, which at this point in time had been quite a bit more decorated and homey. Astarion felt a knot in his stomach as he slowly began to realize what part of the past they were in. Standing there in the living room was Sebastian and a younger Astarion, though both men had aged at least ten years since Volo’s party.
“Oh no,” the present Astarion said softly.
“I don’t know why you’re making such a blasted fuss about things all of a sudden,” the younger Astarion’s voice drowned out the present. His curly white hair had been styled to perfection and he wore a finely tailored suit with a glittering pin of his first initial on the lapel. “All I’m doing is meeting Banre over a case. We’re partners , Sebastian, and she said it couldn’t wait.”
“Of course you’re going to meet Banre. That’s all you ever do.” Sebastian shot back bitterly. What’s on your oh-so-urgent agenda today? Scamming an old fool out of his family’s land? Or perhaps defending the Steel Watch Foundry from another pollution lawsuit?” The younger Astarion looked a bit stung as Sebastian continued. “I’ve always tried my best to support you, Star, I swear I have. But I just hate the kinds of things you’re doing with her. And now you’re so busy with her that you’re skipping our anniversary dinner.”
“ Postponing ,” Astarion insisted. “I already said I was sorry and promised to make it up to you, and I will! But what’s all this about Minthara?” The elf asked, “Is that what this is about? You know that our relationship is strictly professional, don’t you?” Sebastian nodded sadly.
“Yes, I know. You might think me mad, but at times I have found myself wishing that your connection with her was romantic. At least then I could tell myself that your passions had simply moved onto another. My heart would be broken, but I would know that you were still… you.”
“Sebastian, what the hells are you talking about?” Astarion argued, “Of course I’m still me! Who else would I be?”
“You’re someone else, Astarion. Not the man I fell in love with years ago. Back then we lived simply and were content to do so, back then you became a lawyer because you wanted to help people. But now? You value profit above all else—even when it means dishonesty and cruelty. You and Banre are ruthless, you two have cheated and lied to protect corporations and the worst kinds of people.”
“You know that’s not fair, Seb!” Astarion argued. “You were always so idealistic, it’s part of what I fell in love with about you. But one of us has to be practical! Why live off crumbs when we could have so much better for ourselves?”
Sebastian threw his hands up in exasperation, “ Gods ! There you go with that classic line. Don’t pretend this is about us, it’s about you . Your ego, your rise, your status!”
“Ah yes, the gods forbid I want to do something with my life besides wallowing in the dirt of this miserable city taking hopeless cases,” Astarion’s voice was noticeably raised now, and his eyes flashed with anger. But Sebastian only got quieter.
“Wallowing in the dirt?” He asked, his voice catching in his throat. “Is that really all that our time together was to you?”
The young lawyer looked guilty as the weight of his words set in. “Seb, I didn’t mean–”
“No. Shut up. It’s my turn to talk.” Sebastian’s voice was uncharacteristically severe, stopping the young Astarion cold. “Be honest, Astarion, if we had met today, would have even looked twice at me? Would you have pursued a poor merchant without any lofty prospects?” Astarion did not answer immediately, but his face looked hurt and indignant, as though Sebastian’s question had struck him.
“Right. There’s my answer.” Sebastian noted flatly.
Astarion found his words at last, “Is… is that really what you think?”
“Can you give me a reason I should think otherwise?” Sebastian demanded. Astarion’s eyes now shone with pained conflict. He wanted to say yes, but he wasn’t sure that he could.
“I didn’t think so.” Sebastian sighed, resigned to his sorrow. “I suppose that’s it then.”
“What do you mean ‘that’s it’? You can’t seriously be thinking of leaving.”
“I’ve never wanted to leave you, Star. But the man I loved left me a long time ago.” Sebastian shook his head sadly. “I don’t recognize you anymore, Astarion. I can’t go down this path with you any longer.”
The younger Astarion looked distraught as he realized what was happening. “Seb, please! Don’t do this. I– I’m sorry.”
Sebastian crossed over to where Astarion stood and slowly drew him into a final embrace. “I’m sorry too,” he whispered as their lips touched for a fleeting moment. Then he drew back and turned away, not looking back as he walked out the door. Young Astarion looked as though he wanted to say something else, but did not call after Sebastian. Instead, he leaned against the wall and stared up at the ceiling, blinking away hot tears before wiping them angrily away with his hand, taking a deep breath, and stepping back into his office.
The current Astarion looked after his younger self as pain knotted his stomach.
“Why– why show me this?” He demanded, glaring at Jaheira.
“As I told you, Astarion, these are simply shadows of the past. They are what they are, I am not to blame for your sorrow.”
“Maybe not, but you bloody well don’t have to remind me of it,” snapped the elf.
“Sebastian wanted to stay, you know.” Jaheira spoke softly, her voice calm despite Astarion’s abrasiveness.
“He left me!” Now it was the present Astarion’s turn to fight back tears. “I loved him, more than anything! And he walked out and left me all alone.”
“He loved you too, Astarion. Do you suppose leaving was easy for him?” Jaheira challenged, her voice stern for the first time. “You could have given him a reason to stay, he was begging you to. But you let him walk away because you simply couldn’t let go of your pride and ambition. That was your choice, not his.” Astarion grimaced, but remained silent. He knew the old woman was right.
“Please just… Just take me home. I don’t want to see any more.” He said, feeling defeated.
“Very well. Our time nears its end anyway.” Jaheira waved her hands and in a flash and a swirl of snowy wind, the two were once again in Astarion’s bedroom. “You have seen many things tonight, I think. The shadows of the past are not all pleasant, but they are all yours , Astarion.” The old half-elf said softly.
“I suppose they are. I really had forgotten a lot of it.” Astarion mused. “Perhaps there was once something to this holiday for me, but it’s hardly relevant now.”
“Indeed?” Jaheira questioned. “I suppose that remains to be seen. But I think it would be best to consider all that you observed in the visions of your past before it is too late, Astarion.” She crossed over to the bedroom window. “And now I must take my leave. My friend will come and visit you soon. Good luck! With him, I fear you may need it.” The old woman’s eyes twinkled as she smiled and slowly faded away.
Chapter 4: A Christmas Present
Chapter Text
The night went on after Jaheira had left Astarion to his thoughts. He was back in his own room and moonlight still streamed through the window, but a quick glance at his clock told him that at least a little time had passed. He still wasn’t sure what to make of all he had seen. Perhaps it had all been a dream, but it certainly felt real. He grimaced slightly as he remembered his visions of Sebastian—How they’d met, how they’d fallen in love… and how they had ended. Even though he was a pissy old jerk, I have to admit it was tough not to feel a little sorry for him, Soldier. But Astarion’s night was far from over, and just as he was ready to drift off again, the mysterious clock bell rang.
*DONG*
*DONG*
“Oh gods,” Astarion muttered to himself as he sat up. “Here we go again.” Sure enough, into the darkness of the room there appeared a tall, bald, muscular human man with a small creature sitting on his shoulder. The creature began to chitter excitedly, and the man grinned in apparent understanding.
“You are right, Boo! We have made it to the sad elf-man’s house! Minsc was worried we would not be able to follow Jaheira’s directions.”
Astarion blinked at the odd pair now standing before him. “Hello, I suppose you’re my next visitor. Wasn’t aware you’d be bringing pets, though. What is that on your shoulders, some sort of rat?” The man looked offended as the little beast chittered angrily.
“Boo is not a rat, sad elf-man! He is a hamster. A miniature giant space hamster, to be exact, and very wise. He will be helping Minsc to be helping you!”
Astarion sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “I really feel like I’ve had quite enough ‘help’ from you spectral types for one night. It’s already been frankly exhausting.”
“Oh but sad elf-man, there is much more for you to see! Boo says it is important to show you what is happening in the present. Minsc thought he meant Christmas presents, which are Minsc’s favorite. But apparently Boo was speaking of a different present: What is happening now, with the people that sad elf-man knows.”
“Wonderful. Well, I’m sure you aren’t going to leave me alone, so let’s get on with it. Also, I have a name you know, and it isn’t ‘sad elf-man’, it's Astarion.” The elf huffed.
“Ah! Of course, Friend Astarion! Minsc and Boo will be sure to be remembering this!”
“I never said we were frien– oh never mind,” Astarion threw up his hands in exasperation. “Let’s just go.”
“Of course, Friend Astarion!” Minsc grinned and clapped the elf hard on the shoulder before turning to the hamster on his shoulder, “Let us fly, Boo!” The hamster squeaked before rubbing its paws together, and before Astarion knew what was happening, the three of them were floating in the air high above Baldur’s Gate.
“Oh gods!” Astarion exclaimed with a start, “How in the hells did we get up here?” The wind whipped through his white curls and he clung to Minsc for dear life.
“Is Friend Astarion afraid of heights?” Minsc asked with a brow raised in concern. “Please, do not worry! Minsc will not allow you to fall and die horribly. Minsc is ghost, and Boo is magic! You will be very safe with us, Minsc is sure.”
“If you say so,” said Astarion, still looking down nervously. “Why are we up here?”
Minsc gestured to the streets below. “We are up here to see the city, Friend Astarion. We can see much from up here, look!” Astarion forced himself to focus on the sight below them. Baldurians were bustling through the brightly lit streets, buying gifts, sipping cocoa and cider, even singing carols.
“It’s certainly busy,” remarked Astarion, “To tell you the truth, I hardly ever go downtown during the holidays.”
“Ah yes, Minsc knows this.” The large man nodded. “That is why Boo thought you should see it again.” The scene was pleasant, but sent a pang of loneliness to Astarion’s heart. He was always alone for the holidays–by his own choice, of course–but he hadn’t really considered what he’d been missing out on. The hamster on the spirit’s shoulder squeaked again and Astarion felt himself moving quickly through the night and into a living room filled with familiar faces.
“This is… This is Wyll’s place,” he observed as the room came into focus.
“Indeed, Friend Astarion. Your cousin is having his Christmas party! He invited you, did he not?” Minsc inquired.
“Yes, he did…”
“Ah! But Boo is telling Minsc that Friend Astarion did not want to go to Cousin Wyll’s party. Is this because Friend Astarion is sad and lonely? He could be less lonely with family and friends, Minsc thinks.”
“I don’t need friends,” Astarion tried to sound more confident in the statement than he felt, “and I’m not sad or lonely. I just don’t have time for frivolous things like parties.”
“All right, everyone!” A new voice rang through the air. It was a raven-haired woman in a lovely dress with a broad smile on her face as she held a full glass of red wine and stood in the middle of the room. “It’s time for games!”
“Excellent idea, my dear.” Wyll stood from the couch and joined her. “What shall we start with?”
“Ooh! How about 20 questions?” Suggested a tiefling woman with long red hair.
“Oh yes, good idea Lakrissa! That would be fun,” agreed the woman beside her, also a tiefling.
“20 questions it is.” Nodded Wyll. “Who would like to go first?”
“Oh, Lakrissa, you should do it. You’re great at this game!” The woman next to Lakrissa encouraged.
“Ok, Alfie,” Lakrissa grinned. “I’ve got the perfect one too! Ask me a question.”
“Ok, um, are you thinking of an animal?” Alfie asked.
“In a sense, I suppose.”
“In a sense? So a person, then?” Asked a young man sitting opposite the two women.
Lakrissa laughed “Yes! Good catch, Rolan.”
“Rolan?” Astarion muttered in surprise. “I remember him from school.”
“Oh yes! He is the one who pushed Friend Astarion into the dirt, yes? A very fun game, Minsc also enjoys playing in dirt.” The spirit smiled.
“We were not playing ,” snapped Astarion, “He was a bully. He and his sidekick Wulbren made a daily game of tormenting me until Sebastian fought them off.”
“Oh. Minsc thinks that is less fun. But Boo says Rolan is nice now.” Minsc laughed heartily, “That is funny! Now Rolan is nice and Friend Astarion is bully.”
Astarion glared at Minsc, but kept silent.
“Is the person real or fictional?” Asked the raven-haired woman. Wyll’s wife—Shadowheart, was it? Astarion hadn’t bothered to attend his cousin’s wedding.
“Oh they’re real alright,” Lakrissa giggled.
“Male or female?” Rolan’s sister Lia chimed in.
“Male.”
“Person or fiend?” Mused Cal, Rolan and Lia’s brother.
Lakrissa grinned mischievously, “a little of both,” she replied.
“Living or dead?” Asked Alfira.
“Living, unfortunately.”
Wyll lit up as though having an epiphany. “Wait, I think I have a guess: It’s my cousin Astarion isn’t it?”
“That’s it!” Lakrissa laughed and clapped her hands.
Astarion made a face. “Honestly, how juvenile.” Minsc only laughed, and it almost seemed like the damned hamster was laughing too.
“Lakrissa, that’s so mean!” Alfira scolded.
“Aw come on Alfie, lighten up,” Lakrissa waved her hand dismissively. “Who cares if I’m being ‘mean’ to the arsehole that helped defend that godsforsaken Steel Watch Foundry after it poisoned half the drinking water in the Grey Harbor district?”
“He really is more of a fiend than a person,” Lia nodded. “Sorry, Wyll.”
Wyll shook his head, a surprisingly pleasant expression on his face. “No need to apologize. It’s true that my cousin is a little… difficult.”
“He’s impossible ,” Shadowheart insisted. “I don’t know why you insist on inviting him to the party every year. He’ll never come.”
Wyll smiled kindly, “Perhaps not, my heart, but it feels like the right thing to extend my cousin a little grace during the holidays. He is family, after all.”
“You’re far kinder than most, Wyll,” remarked Rolan. “I’ll admit we didn’t always get along, I had a lot of anger as a kid. But I worked on myself and got better.”
Lia nodded, “Especially after Mum died and you had to step up to take care of me and Cal. Seems Astarion only ever got more bitter when his folks passed.”
“To tell you the truth, I feel sorry for him,” Wyll replied. “Who truly suffers from his ill whims more than himself? He could be here with us now enjoying the holiday, but instead he chooses to lock himself away from the world. He is a profoundly lonely man, even if his solitude is mostly self-inflicted.” Wyll took a glass of the fine red wine that adorned one of the tables. “But since we’ve enjoyed a laugh at his expense, I think it’s only fair I propose a toast to the old man, whatever he is. May he learn to keep Christmas wel,l one day. To Astarion!” The party guests returned the toast with their own glasses before continuing in the festivities.
“Your friends are so kind, Friend Astarion!” observed Minsc. “They toast to you even now, though you did not want to attend the party with them.”
“Hmph, friends indeed. They make a game of mocking me,” Astarion looked a bit sour.
“But Minsc did not hear any untruths. Friend Astarion is rather selfish and unkind, and Cousin Wyll still cares for him! That makes him very good, Minsc thinks.”
“Alright, fine. Wyll is very good and I am very bad, is that the lesson here? Perhaps when can wrap this little adventure up early if that’s all you’ve got to say,” the elf huffed.
“Oh no, Friend Astarion! There is much else to see. Lead on, Boo!” and the hamster once again rubbed its paws and the scene shifted into another home. This one was much smaller than Wyll’s house, with peeling paint and dingy windows. The furniture all looked to be secondhand, with faded upholstery and scuffed wooden framing.
“What is this hovel?” Astarion wrinkled his nose in distaste.
“This is the home of Friend Astarion’s secretary, Gale Dekarios.” Minsc replied. “It is small, yes, but all he can afford on what little Friend Astarion pays him.”
The lawyer made a face, “I pay him well enough. I don’t know what he wastes it on, but that’s hardly my concern, is it?”
Minsc shrugged.
“Mother! Mother!” A young tiefling boy called as he ran through the living room. “We’ve come back with the goose!” An older human girl with red hair followed closely behind him carrying a large box.
“Mirkon!” The girl scolded, “You were supposed to help me carry this, not run off ahead of me.”
“Oops! Sorry, Yenna.” The boy skipped back towards his sister and helped her with the box. A lithe, muscular githyanki woman with auburn hair stepped out from the kitchen.
“Be careful,” she warned. “Set the bird on the table and I’ll take care of it. Your father will be home soon with Xan and I’d like to have it cooking by the time they return.”
“Is Arabella still coming home, Mum?” Asked Yenna, carefully setting the box on the table without much help from her younger brother, who had wandered off again.
“Yes. In fact she should be here any moment now.” As if on cue, there was a knock on the door and Lae’zel walked over to open it.
“Merry Christmas, Mum!” A tall tiefling girl who looked about 16 hugged her mother tightly before stepping inside. “I’m so glad traffic wasn’t too bad, I was afraid I wouldn’t get here in time.”
“Arabella!” Mirkon scurried over to hug his older sister, “You’re back from boring school!”
“It’s boarding school, Mirkon.” Yenna rolled her eyes.
“Oh I don’t know, sis, it’s pretty damn boring too,” Arabella laughed.
“Language, Arabella,” Lae’zel warned with a pointed look. “You know your brother repeats everything he hears. But I am very happy to see you, sweetheart.” She smiled slightly. Lae’zel was a stoic type, military-trained. But there was no doubt that she adored her family.
“Is Dad home yet?” Asked Arabella.
“Not yet,” Lae’zel shook her head.
The girl laughed, “Perfect! I’ll hide in the coat closet and surprise him when he gets here. Tell him I couldn’t make it home this year or something, will you Mum?”
“Oh I don’t know, Arabella. You know I’m not good at that sort of–“
“Oh please, Mum!” Yenna chimed in. “It’ll be fun to surprise him.”
“Yeah!” Mirkon agreed eagerly.
“Oh fine, I suppose. Only because it’s Christmas and I’m in a good mood,” Lae’zel relented. Soon, the door opened again and in walked Gale, holding a tightly bundled up githyanki boy, no more than 5 years old.
“Dinner smells delicious, my love,” Gale said, kicking snow off his shoes and kissing Lae’zel on the cheek before setting the boy down and helping him undo his coat.
“Thank you. How did Xan behave at the Open Hand Temple?” Lae’zel asked as she knelt down to take the boy’s hat and gently brush her fingers through his ruddy brown hair.
Gale smiled warmly, “As good as gold, and better! He really loves handing out meals to the refugees, and he’s never met a stranger. The clerics are absolutely enamored with him.”
“I-I helped so many people get food, M-mummy!” Little Xan piped up. Astarion was not sure if he had a stutter or was simply shivering from the cold, but either way the child certainly seemed rather frail.
“I know, sweet boy,” Lae’zel smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “That was very kind of you. Why don’t you go tell your brother and sister all about it?”
“Ok, M-mummy!” The little boy reached for the small cane propped up against the wall and hobbled over to his siblings, his speed rather impressive despite his impairment.
“You know, sometimes I think that boy is wiser than I am,” Gale remarked with a laugh. “He always knows just what to say to make the refugees feel happy and safe.”
“That’s our sweet Xan,” Lae’zel smiled, looking at the boy excitedly recounting his morning to Yenna and Mirkon. Gale looked around for a moment, “Wait, where is our dear Arabella? She told me she would be able to visit from school.”
“She is… not coming,” Lae’zel answered flatly, avoiding eye contact. She was clearly unaccustomed to lying.
“Not coming? On Christmas Day?” Gale asked sadly. Before his wife could respond. Arabella burst out from inside the closet and embraced Gale. “Here I am, Dad!” She laughed. “I couldn’t bear disappointing you, even as a joke.”
“Merry Christmas, my darling Arabella!” Gale happily hugged her and spun her around. “I knew you would make it home to us, sweet girl.” Mirkon giggled
“We fooled you, Daddy, didn’t we? You were so surprised!”
“You certainly did, my boy,” Gale laughed and ruffled the young tiefling’s curly hair. “You’re all getting far too clever!”
Astarion scanned the room, taking in his employee’s family. “A gith boy, two tieflings, and a human girl? What an… interesting family Gale has. I had no idea,” the elf observed. Minsc nodded happily.
“Yes, Friend Gale and Friend Lae’zel have taken several children into their home who were in need of a family. Boo says everyone should have family during the holidays, and Minsc agrees!”
“I see.” Astarion looked at the family again as they interacted happily. “I suppose that’s where most of the money goes.”
Minsc shook his head, “Some money, yes, but most of it goes towards medicine and doctors for little Xan. He is very sick, Minsc is sad to say.”
“Oh,” Astarion said softly. He had never bothered to talk to Gale about his home life, and he was surprised to learn how big and blended his family was, not to mention his sickly son.
Before long, they had set the table and laid out the platters of food for them to share. Though their dining room was small and humbly furnished, the room seemed to almost glow with warmth as the close-knit Dekarios family settled in for the meal. Astarion noticed how kind and patient the older children were with Xan. Arabella fixed his plate and Mirkon happily chattered away with him about all the delicious treats they would have. Yenna made sure he was sitting comfortably and brought him his medicine in a small cup before the meal.
Finally, when everyone was seated, Gale raised a toast to his family, to Christmas, and, to Astarion’s great surprise–
“To Mr. Ancunín, the founder of our feast!”
“ Tchk! ‘Founder of our feast’ indeed,” Lae’zel scoffed. “I should like to give him a piece of my mind to feast on, though I doubt he’d have the appetite for it.”
“My dear,” said Gale, gently, “Think of the children. It’s Christmas after all.”
His wife remained unmoved. “All the more reason it is absurd for you to bother toasting the health of that thrice-damned rotten bastard! Why the hells should we honour such a miserable man?” She gestured to her husband, exasperated by his enduring patience, a trait they did not share. “You know better than anyone how detestable he is, Gale. You’ve worked with him long enough.”
Gale nodded, “It’s true, he can be very difficult to work for at times. But without him we wouldn’t have the money we need to take care of our home and our family. He’d never admit it, but I do feel the man is lonely. It is a hard thing to be alone at such times as these.”
Lae’zel took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment before responding.
“Very well, Gale. I shall toast to him for your sake, and the sake of the holiday. But not for his.”
“That’s all I can ask for, my dear.” Gale smiled. “To Astarion!”
“To Astarion!” The family replied in unison. Suddenly, Xan began to cough violently, his frail body shaking as he gasped for air.
“Breathe, my son,” Lae’zel spoke with tight urgency but was careful not to sound panicked as she stood up and knelt before the boy, squeezing his leg and attempting to calm him. “Breathe slowly, as the cleric taught you. You will be alright. Yenna, grab his inhaler.”
“Yes, Mum,” the girl rushed to do so. When she brought it over, Arabella and Lae’zel helped Xan use it, while Gale looked on with concern and placed a comforting hand on Mirkon’s shoulder.
“You’re ok, Xan!” Mirkon said encouragingly, though he looked worried. “You’ll feel better with your medicine!” The younger boy nodded and coughed a bit more before his breathing slowly returned to normal.
“There, that’s better,” Arabella’s voice was soft and gentle as she rubbed her brother’s back. “We’ve got you, Xan-Xan, no matter what, the Dekarios kids stick together, don’t we?” She gave a pointed look to her younger siblings, who all nodded in eager agreement. Soon the children were back in high spirits and enjoying their meal, but Lae’zel seemed distracted. She kept her face as pleasantly impassive as she could. When Gale later walked with her to another room as the children played however, the façade gave way to the pain and worry on her face.
“He is not getting better, Gale.” She spoke in low tones. “What are we going to do? I… I can’t lose him.” Her voice caught in her throat and her eyes welled up with tears. Gale pulled her closer and held her tight, his own brown eyes shining sadly before forcing a slight smile back onto his face. “I don’t know, my love. But I promise we will think of something. We must .”
Astarion observed the scene, lost in thought. While he’d never given much consideration to Gale’s family before or the welfare of his children, it was hard to remain impassive after witnessing Xan’s plight bring even a hardened Githyanki fighter to tears.
“Minsc,” he asked quietly. “Tell me, the boy will… Will he die?”
Boo chittered something into Minsc’s ear and he nodded in somber understanding. “Boo tells Minsc that if things do not change soon, the boy will not live much longer.”
“Oh.”
Astarion suddenly looked a bit sad.
“Well, what of it?” Minsc looked at him quizzically. “There are far too many people crowding the city as it is. Isn’t that what Friend Astarion said?” Boo sniffed and looked down in judgement as Astarion hung his head, ashamed to hear his own words.
“I didn’t mean– It’s just… Well it doesn’t seem entirely fair to the poor child.”
“Oh, that is because it is not fair, friend!” Minsc explained helpfully. “Many things in this world are not. But when people show kindness to each other, that is always a step towards more fairness, Minsc thinks.” The hamster nodded. “Haha! And Boo agrees I see. Perhaps Friend Astarion might consider trying it.”
“Yes… Perhaps.” Mumbled Astarion.
“Why is Friend Astarion looking so sad?” Minsc asked, and for the first time, Astarion noticed that the large man seemed visibly older than he had a few minutes ago.
“I– wait, are you getting… Older?” The elf inquired, confused.
Minsc only smiled, “Oh yes, Friend Astarion. Minsc is the spirit of Christmas Present, and the present does not last very long. Minsc will be dying soon.” The spirit did not seem the least bit perturbed by this startling revelation, which baffled Astarion even more.
“ Dying? You mean you’re just… aging up and dying in a day? How are you so calm about this?”
Minsc laughed and Boo chittered away. “Minsc does not fear death, Friend Astarion! Minsc will be reborn soon. This is the natural cycle of things, Boo has had many Minscs before me, and he will have many more after!”
“Honestly, I’m never going to get used to these bizarre spirit rules you lot have,” Astarion sighed and shook his head. He then noticed something else, two frail scrawny children—a boy and a girl—who seemed to come out of nowhere and stand by Minsc and Boo’s side.
“Are… are they yours?” Asked Astarion hesitantly, looking down at the children with confusion. Minsc shook his head gravely as the hamster on his shoulder chittered away.
“No. Boo says they belong to mankind. The boy here is Ignorance, and the little girl is Want. Minsc fears they can grow quite dangerous if not properly cared for.”
“Why do they look so frail? Shouldn’t someone be able to help them?” The girl’s face twisted suddenly into a grotesque and monstrous shape as she rose to be about Astarion’s height, grinning at him with pure malice shining in her beady red eyes.
“Are the prisons at Wyrm’s Rock full?” She cackled through rotted yellow teeth.
“Is the Steel Watch Foundry still in operation?” Added the boy, now wearing a terrifying visage of his own. Once again, Astarion heard his flippant words spoken back to him, and once again, he felt ashamed.
“Minsc does not have much longer to be with Friend Astarion,” the friendly spirit spoke as Astarion looked up to see him aging even more rapidly, his face now wrinkled and grey and his posture hunched. Boo patted his shoulder with a little paw and squeaked gently. “We should return. Take us, Boo!” And in a sudden rush of wind that seemed to carry away the terrifying children, Astarion found himself back in his room.
“Thank you, Boo,” Minsc smiled gratefully at his furry friend. “Minsc hopes Friend Astarion has enjoyed his trip with Minsc and Boo! It is time for Minsc to say goodbye, so that new Minsc may come. I will miss you, little Boo. And you, Friend Astarion. Farewell!” And with a final squeak from Boo, the odd pair faded away in a cloud of dust.
Chapter 5: A Grim Future
Chapter Text
Astarion sat in the dark of his bedroom staring blankly at the wall. He didn’t particularly feel like going back to sleep, unable to relax after all he had seen. The memories of his past—both pleasant and painful—swam ceaselessly around in his head. His lonely childhood, his friendship and first love with Sebastian, the early days of his career. The images of the present of his cousin’s party and Gale's poor family also haunted him. He wasn’t sure what to make of it all, and if Minthara’s warning rang true, there would be more to come. This time instead of trying to sleep, Astarion simply sat and waited. The moments ticked by slowly until–
*DONG*
*DONG*
*DONG*
The mysterious bell chimed once more. Astarion looked around for who his next visitor would be. At first, he saw nothing and heard nothing. Just as he was beginning to wonder if anyone was coming after all, he noticed a figure in the corner and let out a stifled gasp. The figure was tall and foreboding as it loomed silently in the corner, and a long cape was wrapped around its shoulders. The figure’s face was desiccated and skeletal, and it stared blankly at Astarion for a moment before slowly pulling up the hood of the cape and mostly obscuring its face.
“G-good evening,” Astarion stuttered, unsettled by this strange visitor. “I suppose you’re the third spirit that’s supposed to visit me?”
The figure said nothing.
“The first spirit was the past, and the second was the present, so I assume you’re here to show me things from the future, is that right?”
No response.
“Well, you’re certainly less chatty than the other spirits,” Astarion quipped. “Honestly, it’s a refreshing change of pace. I am ready then, Spirit. Lead on.”
The figure nodded as it slowly crossed the room, holding out a bony hand with withered skin pulled tightly around it. With a wave of the hand, the two were suddenly standing on a snowy street, the one right outside Astarion’s law office. But something was wrong—the office had fallen into disrepair, with broken windows, peeling paint, and a sign faded nearly beyond legibility.
ANC N N & B NRE AS OCIAT S
Astarion shivered slightly, and not just from the cold. “What happened?” He asked his skeletal tour guide, who again gave no response. “Why is the office in such a state? I wouldn’t have let it get this bad, would I?” The figure made no verbal response, but finally seemed to at least react to the elf’s question by pointing a bony finger towards the street. Astarion followed the figure’s gesture and saw a few people walking down the street in front of the office, a gnome accompanied by two tieflings.
“What a sight,” the gnome shook his head at the dilapidated building. “A shame, really. Hard to believe the old sod is finally gone.”
“You can say that again,” A tall tiefling with long curved horns replied. “Sometimes I thought that bastard would never die.”
“It ought to be a short funeral in any case,” Another tiefling, this one dressed in blacksmith’s clothes chimed in. “For the life of me I can’t think of anyone who’d want to attend it.”
The gnome chuckled, “Oh I don’t know, I wouldn’t mind going… So long as lunch is provided.” The three men laughed as they continued on their way.
“Spirit, who are they talking about?” Astarion asked, fearing the answer. The spirit hovered beside him but remained silent, instead waving its bony hand again to transport them to the infamous guildhall that hid below the streets of Baldur’s Gate. Astarion had heard the stories of Nine-Fingers Keene and her vast criminal network, but had never seen it for himself. Nine-Fingers was seated at her desk talking to a pair of teenaged tieflings, a girl with an eyepatch and a boy with messy, dreadlocked hair. The two were carrying some familiar items.
“Is this all you could find?” Keene asked the girl.
“Yep, we combed through the place, but the old miser didn’t have much.” The girl replied.
“Yeah, it’s crazy how little he had with how much money he hoarded,” the boy added, laughing.
Keene looked through the items. “Well, no matter. We should be able to make at least a few coin off these. Did you run into any trouble breaking in, Mol?”
The girl shook her head, “Hardly, Mattis and I practically walked right in. It’s not like that old creep had any family or friends to mourn him. Good riddance, I say.”
“You got that right,” Mattis nodded. “My old man died because of the shit safety standards at his factory, and that bastard was the one defending them. I hope he rots.”
Astarion stared at the thieves and the items they were handling, recognizing several things from his flat. “Why they– they robbed me!” he exclaimed indignantly. “How did they even– wait, does that mean…” he looked up at the spirit, realization dawning on his face. “Spirit, am I… Am I dead?”
Silence.
“I– I can’t be… I mean all of these people can’t be so happy that I…” he stammered as he tried to reason out what was happening. Sure, he hadn’t been the kindest or most neighborly, but he had no idea so many people actively hated him. Believe it or not, Soldier, the old fool had convinced himself that his actions didn’t have a meaningful impact on the lives of others. If it didn’t affect him, he’d put it from his mind completely.
“The boy’s father… I remember that case. It was a landmark for the firm and put us on the map. But I didn’t think…” he trailed off as he looked guiltily at Mattis. After a long moment, he spoke up again. “Is… is anyone sad that I’m gone?” The spirit silently waved its hand and soon they stood in Wyll’s living room.
“Mummy, are we going out soon?” A young girl inquired to her mother, who was getting her coat.
“In a moment, Lily,” Shadowheart replied. “Your father is almost ready.”
“Here I am,” Wyll came from around the corner dressed in a fine blue dress coat. He picked up the little girl and smiled at her. “We won’t be long, dear. I just want to pay a few respects to my cousin.”
“That’s more than he ever paid you when he was alive,” Shadowheart muttered.
“Be that as it may, he was still family,” Wyll put a hat on Lily’s head and the family headed out the door, presumably to Astarion’s funeral.
Astarion looked on sadly. “He’s still decent to me, even now. I suppose I never appreciated that before.” The spirit offered no comfort, no words at all. Suddenly, Astarion thought of something. “Spirit, what of Dekarios and his family? What happened to Xan?” The spirit again transported them until they were in a different living room, this one smaller, and sadder.
Astarion watched as Lae’zel looked sadly out the frosted window at the front of the house and absently dried a dish with a towel.
“Mum, where’s Dad?” Arabella asked gently as she stepped into the room.
“I’m not sure,” Lae’zel replied. “He ought to be home from the Open Hand Temple soon. He always made it back quickly when Xan was on his shoulders. But he was… well he wasn’t difficult to carry and…” Lae’zel’s voice broke as she began to weep, her usual tight composure gone completely. Arabella tried her best to comfort her mother as Gale solemnly stepped into the house from the gloomy snow-covered streets. After taking off his coat and boots, Gale walked toward other children, who all looked terribly glum. He sat down beside them and held Mirkon tightly as tears wet his face despite his attempt to brush them away.
“Don’t cry, Daddy,” Yenna spoke kindly, touching his arm. “Xan wouldn’t want us to be sad.”
“You’re right, my dear.” He smiled weakly and ran a hand through Yenna’s hair, pulling her closer. “Xan always brought so much joy into our home. He will always be with us.” Arabella and Lae’zel joined the rest of the family in the living room and they comforted each other and shared their favorite stories of Xan as the day went on.
“No…” Astarion said softly, “That isn’t right. The boy should… He should still be alive. It isn’t fair.”
The evening soon fell, and the skeletal figure led the elf through the cold streets of the city until they reached the cemetery. There were many stones with names Astarion recognized, old families well known to the city, but in a rather lonely corner of the graveyard, there stood a solitary stone, with no family plots surrounding it. Astarion’s breath caught in his throat as they approached it. The stone was covered in snow, and the skeletal hand reached down to brush it away and reveal a name that sent a cold chill down the lawyer’s spine.
Astarion Ancunín
“No…” Astarion reeled back at the sight. “No, please, I don’t want to see it…” The spirit ignored him and continued to brush away the snow, revealing a year
1255 DR–
“Spirit,” Astarion turned urgently to his guide. “Please tell me, are these visions of what will be, or simply what could be? Can this fate be changed?” The figure did not reply, slowly reaching out its hand to brush away the remaining snow and reveal the year of death.
“Wait!” Astarion grabbed the spirit’s arm with urgency, “Speak to me, damn you! There has to be a way to change it, right? You lot wouldn’t have shown me all this if there wasn’t. It doesn’t have to be this way!” The ground in front of the marker began to slowly open up, rocks and dirt tumbling to the unseen bottom of a cavernous hole. Out of the hole poured a cacophony of sound:
The cruel words that had been said to him.
The cruel words he had said to others.
The curses of the people he had disenfranchised.
The cries of the Dekarios Family.
The laughter from Wyll’s party.
The singing of carols in the street.
The sounds were all consuming and overwhelming. Astarion scrambled back to avoid being swallowed, but the spirit neither stirred nor moved to aid him. Instead, it gripped his shoulder with impossible strength and shoved him forcefully into the seemingly bottomless pit. Astarion grabbed a corner of the spirit's robe in his desperation and a bit of the cloth tore off, clutched in his trembling hand. He closed his eyes and fell fast and far, until the clash of noises had faded into stone silence.
Chapter Text
Astarion opened his eyes in terror, completely disoriented. After a moment, he realized that he had fallen from his bed and was tangled in the sheets, which he clutched in the same hand he had torn the spirit’s robe with.
“Gods, wh- what happened?” He stammered as he stood up from the floor and tried to get his bearings. “I’m back. Holy hells, I’m back! ” He looked around frantically for the clock. Still sitting on his bedside table, the digital face read
8:30 AM
December 25
“It’s Christmas Day!” Astarion exclaimed. “I don’t believe it, the spirits really did it in one night,” he laughed aloud, “Well, of course they did, I suppose ghosts can do whatever they like!” He gasped at a dawning realization, “That means… I’m not too late!”
Astarion tossed the sheets aside and ran to the window. As he looked down at the street, he spotted a young tiefling girl and boy selling copies of the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette. “That’s it!” He snapped his fingers, “I know just what to do.” The elf hurriedly got dressed and headed down to talk to the children selling papers.
“Good morning, saer.” The young girl said shyly, “Would you like to buy a paper?”
“I have a better idea, I’ll buy them all!” He handed the shocked girl a small sack of gold pieces and took the stack of papers from her wagon. “Now that your sales are taken care of and your wagon is clear, how would the two of you like to earn some more coin?”
“Hmm,” The young boy grunted quietly.
“That’s Doni. He doesn’t talk much,” the girl explained. “And my name is Silfy. We’d love to earn more coin, what do you want us to do?”
“Do you know that prize turkey hanging in the butcher shop window?” Astarion asked.
“The one as big as I am?” Said Silfy, her eyes wide.
Astarion laughed heartily, sounding almost as friendly as Minsc, “That’s the one!”
“Umm hmm,” Doni nodded affirmatively.
“Excellent,” Astarion continued, “So, what I want you to do is go down to the shop and buy the turkey, then deliver it to the address I give you. I’ll pay for the whole thing, of course, and you will earn an extra ten gold each. Do we have a deal?”
“Gods, saer! That’s an awful lot of money, are you sure?” Silfy’s eyes had somehow grown even wider.
“Quite certain, my dear. Go ahead and take the money now, and here is a paper with the address.”
After sending the children along their way, Astarion turned and headed to his next stop. As he headed towards the office that Halsin and Rath worked out of, he noticed a few carolers on the street. When they saw him coming, they shrank back, as they were more accustomed to angry glares than tips from him. Well Soldier, imagine their shock when the infamously sour Astarion Ancunín put a whole handful of coins into their bucket and smiled as he wished them a Merry Christmas! Before they could even respond, Astarion had already crossed the threshold of the charity office.
“Good morning gentlemen, and Merry Christmas!” He shouted as he entered. Halsin and Rath looked up, startled by the sudden entry and even more startled once they realized who it was that was entering.
“Mr. Ancunín?” Halsin asked, hardly believing his eyes.
Astarion’s smile faded slightly into an apologetic expression. “That is my name,” he nodded, “Though I fear it may not be pleasant to you after my ghastly behavior yesterday. I’ve come to make things right.”
“That’s… That’s very kind of you, Mr. Ancunín. We truly never thought–” Rath began, still eyeing the elf warily as though this might be some strange prank.
“Please, you hardly owe me such formalities,” the lawyer waved a hand, “Astarion will do just fine. I’m here to make a donation, but not of the amount you suggested yesterday.”
“Oh, of course.” Halsin nodded, “Any contribution would be appreciated, even if it’s less than–”
“I’d like to give you triple that amount.”
“...Sir?” Rath blinked.
“With a monthly contribution to follow,” Astarion continued. Rath’s eyes rivaled even Silfy’s for how wide they grew.
“Mr. Ancunín– Astarion, that is far too generous!”
Astarion shook his head, “On the contrary, it’s hardly generous enough. I have spent far too long taking from this community, it’s about time I give something back. I shall come after the holiday to make the full arrangements, but please take this check as a show of good faith.” He handed Rath a written check for three times the suggested donation of gold.
“This is an incredible gift, and will be put to good use Mr… Astarion,” Halsin finally spoke up. “Thank you.”
“No gentlemen, I ought to be thanking you. Merry Christmas!” Astarion tipped his hat and headed out the door and towards the Ravengard home.
It was now late afternoon, and light and music poured from the windows of Wyll home as the party guests began to arrive. Astarion stood at a distance and watched them enter for a moment before gathering the courage to approach the door and knock.
“I’m so glad you brought those amazing sausage balls, Rolan! Just set them on the table and Shadowheart will add them to the serving trays.” Astarion heard Wyll behind the door before it opened and he turned a smiling face to see who it was knocking. The young man’s face shifted to surprise as he saw none other than his misanthropic cousin standing on his doorstep.
“Astarion?”
The elf nodded somewhat nervously. “Yes, it’s me. I was… Well I was just–” he stuttered before taking a deep breath, “I was hoping to take you up on your invitation. That is… if you’ll still have me.”
Wyll’s surprise melted into a warm smile as he reached out to grab his cousin by the arm.
“Of course we’ll have you, Cousin! It wouldn’t do to turn away family on Christmas Day now would it? Darling, set another place at the table, we have a surprise guest!” He called out to his wife before excitedly pulled Astarion into the house. Shadowheart looked even more surprised than Wyll had been, but she greeted Astarion warmly and welcomed him to the table. Wyll formally introduced them, along with his daughter Lily, who smiled and hugged the elf tightly around his waist.
“Merry Cwissmas Uncle ‘starion!” She happily exclaimed, always ready to make a new friend. Astarion felt his eyes grow a bit misty as he hugged the child back. The meal they enjoyed together was the most delicious he’d ever tasted, and the company was even better. Astarion spent the evening laughing, eating, drinking, and making Merry with everyone, and he felt happier and lighter than he’d ever felt before.
But enough about Astarion for a moment, Soldier. It’s time we check in on the Dekarios Clan. I’m sure you’ve probably guessed by now that that’s where our newly reformed arsehole sent the big turkey. When Silfy and Doni arrived with it in the wagon, Gale and Lae’zel could hardly believe their eyes, certain there must have been some address mixup. The tiefling children assured them it was correct, and that they’d been sent to deliver by a man, though they did not know who he was. Gale brought in the bird and Lae’zel and Arabella got to work cooking it. That evening, the family had the most wonderful Christmas feast they had ever known. Even little Xan had a big appetite that day, asking for seconds and enjoying all the side dishes. The family celebrated their good fortune and toasted the stranger that had gifted it to them.
The next morning, Gale jogged lightly through the snowy streets, nervously aware that he’d overslept after all the excitement the night before. He hoped his boss wouldn’t be too terribly upset with him, but he was also grimly aware that Astarion Ancunín was not exactly known for being reasonable or even-tempered. Sure enough, as Gale fumbled with the lock a moment before stumbling into the office, Astarion was already there waiting behind the old oak desk and glaring at him.
“Morning, Mr. Ancunín.” Gale said somewhat timidly.
“Dekarios. You’re late.” Astarion said flatly, his face displeased. “I could swear that I specifically instructed you to be here early the morning after Christmas. Was it not enough that I gave you an entire paid day off? Would you test my generosity?”
“I’m sorry, Sir,” Gale began, “I really meant to be here earlier, it’s just that I was having such a wonderful time with my family last night that I lost track of–”
“I am not interested in your excuses, Dekarios.” Astarion inclined his head with a stern expression. “When I ask something of my employees I expect them to do as instructed. I refuse to compensate laziness or incompetence. Therefore, I have made an important decision regarding your employment at this firm. I have decided… to raise your salary.”
Gale winced, then blinked in confusion as he processed what had been said. “S-sir?”
“Yes, Mr. Dekarios. I will be raising your salary effective immediately, and I will no longer tolerate you being away from your family when they need you. You will be given as much paid time off as needed to attend to the affairs of your wife and children, especially your son Xan, who I understand has significant medical needs.”
“I– I don’t understand…”
“What’s not to understand? You are a hard-working employee who has dutifully put up with a miserly misanthropic arsehole of an employer for years, and I think it’s high time you reap the benefits of your longsuffering nature… And high time you got an apology.” Astarion’s face softened and his voice grew sincere. “I am sorry, Gale. I’ve been awful to you, to everyone. I may not be able to fix all the harm that I’ve caused over the years, but I intend to do my very best with whatever time I have left, and I hope one day you may find it in your heart to forgive me.”
Gale looked as though he might faint.
But believe or not, Solider, the grumpy old elf was true to his word. From that day forward, Astarion did Christmas bigger than anyone in Baldur’s Gate. The parties he threw were legendary, and he always used them to raise money for local charities. He became a dear friend of the Dekarios Family and practically a second father to little Xan. Speaking of Xan, his health improved greatly and Astarion made sure that he was never short on medication and happily paid for whatever treatments he needed. Astarion became a good friend to everyone he knew, and converted Ancunín & Banre Associates into a family law firm, taking all the “little people and little cases” he had once carelessly dismissed. He was as good a friend, as good a cousin, and as good a man as he could be, and he never forgot the gift his old partner had given him. Minthara’s picture now hung above the office fireplace, and Astarion would often look at it and hope her burdens had been lessened.
One day, while he was cheerfully helping Gale file some cases, Astarion heard a knock at the door.
“That’s odd,” he remarked, checking his watch. “It’s almost closing time. But I’ll go and see who it is, it might be important.” He set the files down and walked over to open the door, gasping softly when he saw who stood before him.
“Sebastian… ”
Notes:
Whew! This was a labor of love that took several days to finish, but I wanted to offer it as a holiday gift and a thank you to everyone who has read and supported my writing this year. A Christmas Carol is my favorite Christmas story of all time and I had so much fun reimagining it like this.
I hope you enjoyed, and Happy Holidays!
WishedUponAStar on Chapter 6 Sat 08 Mar 2025 03:58PM UTC
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Ladygrey907 on Chapter 6 Sun 09 Mar 2025 12:32AM UTC
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sortacanadian on Chapter 6 Wed 09 Jul 2025 06:08AM UTC
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Ladygrey907 on Chapter 6 Sat 12 Jul 2025 11:08AM UTC
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