Chapter Text
The sun broke over the horizon, washing the city in its deep golden light. Astarion’s boots clicked against the stone as he strode past the courtyard. Birds fluttered from tree branch to tree branch, tweeting merrily at each other. Astarion didn’t pause to watch them as he usually would, instead he hurried past towards the grand hall where a messenger awaited him. Nobody would tell him why the message was so urgent, or who had sent it. The only thing Astarion knew was that he had to receive it in person; it could not be passed along. With every step he took, Astarion’s chest tightened, for urgent messages usually spelled bad news.
The heavy oak doors opened with a loud creak. Every curtain in the grand hall had been thrown open and sunlight drenched every inch of the marbled room. Astarion spotted the messenger immediately — a dwarven girl with ginger hair and a ruddy, freckled complexion stood in the center of the room. She was admiring the tapestry Tav had insisted they needed. It was an artistic depiction of their journey defeating The Absolute. Astarion didn’t understand it, but Tav loved it, so he did too. The messenger’s eyes went wide when she saw Astarion approach and she took a tentative step backwards.
“You have something for me,” Astarion said, holding out his hand expectantly.
“Oh, ah, yes. Yes, sir,” she stammered. Astarion knew from her accent that she was not Baldurian but couldn’t quite place it. The girl dug into her pockets and produced a plain piece of parchment, folded and sealed with purple wax.
Wordlessly, Astarion took the paper from her hand and flipped it over. He didn’t recognize the seal, and there was no name to indicate who had sent it.
“Where did this come from?” He demanded, raising his eyes to examine the dwarf’s face.
“My — my boss,” she said, wringing her hands in front of herself like a scolded child. “Sir. My boss told me to bring it straight here, top priority.”
“Who is your boss?”
“Tromund Oakengut, of the Sword Coast Couriers,” she shrugged. “The letter arrived by carrier pigeon just this mornin’, sir. I don’t know anything else about it. It’s a bit above my pay grade.”
“Hmm,” Astarion hummed as he looked down at the paper again. The edges were frayed as if torn from a notebook, and the seal was uneven and hastily pressed. He waved one hand toward the girl as he turned to leave the room. “You can go.”
Astarion kept his eyes on the paper as he sprinted up the stairs to retreat into his study. He closed and locked the door behind him before he sank down in the easy chair near the window and carefully pried the wax seal open. The world around him blurred as his eyes took in the curvy, slanted writing.
To the Lord of the Crimson Palace, Astarion Ancunín,
Before you toss this letter into the bin or fireplace — I know where your brother is. If you don’t address this letter, I can assure you that you will never see him again. We are fleeing the Sword Coast a tenday after this letter is postmarked.
Each letter that I have penned on scraps of torn parchment or cloth over the past ten years I have either cast into the sea or cast into flame. I have tried to reach out to you, Star, and I have always faltered. Maybe it was due to my own foolishness, my petulant nature, or something else entirely. I don’t know. I have always heeded the request to not involve you but I cannot blindly follow him anymore in this matter.
We are in grave danger and need your help. For nearly a decade we have travelled in the dead of night to avoid you and the search parties that you have sent out. I know that Astarion has avoided your reach for longer than that. I have no iota of the fight that the two of you had in the past, but all I know is that I cannot play my part in this charade any longer. My son does not deserve that.
His name is Ares. He is nine. He has your brother’s laugh and is as sharp as a tack. The three of us will die if you do not intervene and our collective blood will be on your hands. The forces hunting us are of a far greater magnitude than what is comprehensible to the physical mind. This entity will cut my family down and will not cease until yours is felled as well. It is near and the only solace we have is fleeing the coast — but it will find us. It will find you. We have one year.
Ask your Lady. She’s been dreaming about it, too.
– V
Astarion looked around at the empty room. Is this a joke? A trick? His brother had been missing for nearly a century, with no whispers or clues to his whereabouts. It was as if he’d disappeared off Toril entirely. But now… Astarion looked back down at the letter. No, this was real, Astarion could feel it in his bones. The details, though sparse, were too glaring to ignore. How would this person know they went by Ast and Star, or know they’d had a fight, unless Ast had told them? If Astarion knew anything about his brother, it was that he was tight-lipped.
‘His name is Ares. He is nine. He has your brother’s laugh,’ Astarion read the words again, and then again. Ast had a son, the same age as his own. His brother and his family were in danger, and now so was his, for whoever hunted Ast would surely come for him next.
‘Ask your Lady. She’s been dreaming about it, too.’
“What in the nine hells does thatmean?” Astarion asked himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand and heaved a heavy sigh. His mind raced with a million thoughts at once, and he couldn’t latch onto one long enough to understand it. There was no way Tav knew anything about this — nor about Ast’s whereabouts or whoever was chasing him.
“It’s impossible,” he muttered, massaging his eyes with his fingers. “Impossible.”
Astarion sprang to his feet, knocking over an inkpot in his haste to snatch a quill from the holder on his desk. The dark ink spread out over the glossy oak table and dripped slowly onto the floor. Ignoring the mess, Astarion pulled some parchment from his drawer to scribble a letter of his own.
Nine Fingers,
I need to know who sent this letter, and where they are. Use all your men, stop at nothing to find them.
This matter must be your top priority. I will pay any price.
– Lord Astarion Ancunín
Astarion folded and sealed the paper before writing three more letters, each addressed to some of the more powerful figures in Baldur’s Gate. One to the High Harper, one to Archduke Ravengard, and the last to the unnamed leader of the Black Network. When he was done, he gathered all four letters and stuffed them into his breast pocket. Then, with a deep inhale, he allowed his body to dissipate into a fine silver mist.
Astarion was going to find his brother.
Astarion’s ears twitched as the piano melody echoed through the halls of the east wing. The door to the music room was slightly open, and he paused to listen. It was a beautifully upbeat song, one he was not familiar with. Theo hummed along as he played, and Astarion couldn’t help but smile. He’d only just started playing piano at the end of last year, and already he was playing these lovely, complex pieces.
A sharp, jarring note cut into the song and Theo faltered. He tried to keep going but the sour note rang out again. Theo groaned and slammed the keys with his fist. “I can’t do it! I always mess up on this part!”
Tav rubbed his back for a moment before she placed her hands over his and guided him to the correct keys. “It’s okay. Try again.”
Astarion noted the way Theo’s ears twitched in irritation, and he opened his mouth as if to argue. If Astarion knew one thing about his son, it was that he needed to be perfect at everything he tried. He’d been like that since he was a toddler learning to walk. A single stumble would set him back by weeks, and he didn’t speak until he was sure he could say the word correctly. Theo didn’t argue just then, though. Instead, he took a deep breath, straightened his back, and began to play.
“Don’t rush it,” Tav spoke softly in his pointed ear. “Just let the music guide you.”
As he watched his wife and son, sitting together in the bright and sunlit room, it was easy for Astarion to forget about his quest to find his brother. He could stay there, in that moment, forever, everything else be damned. That thought was short lived, though, when he remembered they might be in serious danger.
Astarion strode into the room and sat himself on Theo’s left. His son gave him the briefest smile before he returned his attention to the piano. The song concluded a few moments later and both Astarion and Tav erupted into applause.
“Well done!” Tav exclaimed. “I knew you could get there.”
“Yes, excellent work,” Astarion agreed. He ruffled his hand in Theo’s auburn curls. “It’s clear how hard you’re working.”
Theo beamed at his parents. He’d recently lost a tooth — his right canine. The gap in his smile reminded Astarion that he was not so small anymore. Theo was almost ten years old, and he’d likely grow fangs next. What that meant for him, Astarion wasn’t sure, but it made him nervous. It was easy to keep him safe when he was small, but now Theo had a mind of his own, and was starting to venture out more and more. Astarion wanted to freeze time, to keep his son exactly as he was, safe under his watch.
“Do you think I can play at the Feast of the Moon gala?” Theo was nearly bouncing out of his skin with excitement.
Astarion and Tav’s eyes met over their son’s head, and Astarion gave a small shrug of his shoulders. “If you keep practicing with Mum every day, I don’t see why not,” Astarion answered.
“I will, I promise,” Theo said as he threw his arms around his mother’s waist, then turned to do the same to Astarion. He buried his face in his father’s shirt before he sat up again.
Astarion returned the hug before he looked into his son’s spring green eyes. “Theo, I need to have a word with your mother. You can go downstairs for breakfast before your lessons.”
Theo narrowly avoided knocking over the large vase by the door as he sprinted away. Astarion waited until the door was firmly shut before he turned to Tav again. His tongue suddenly felt thick in his mouth, and he found it difficult to form his words.
“I know that look.” Tav reached out to brush her fingers across the top of his hand. “What is it?”
“Do you know where my brother is?” Astarion blurted. It was pointless to mince words.
The wide-eyed look on Tav’s face revealed everything, but he waited for her to respond anyway. “What? No, of course I don’t. Where did that come from?”
Astarion sighed as he pulled the original letter from his pocket and handed it to her. He watched her eyes roam over the paper, brows furrowing deeper and deeper as she read. Finally, Tav looked up at him, her eyes searching for answers he didn’t have.
“What does this mean?”
“I – I’m not sure,” Astarion admitted. “I don’t know who V is, or why they’re reaching out to me now. Have — have you been having dreams again?”
Tav swallowed hard and idly tapped her fingers on the piano keys. Astarion knew her telltale nervous signs, but he didn’t press her. She’d speak when she was ready, and not a moment before.
“Yes,” she said finally. “Nothing to do with your brother or any of that. They are mostly the same as before, cryptic and eerie and illogical. I always get the feeling of being watched. Being hunted.”
Annoyance ignited in his chest and Astarion pressed his lips together to stop himself from snapping at her. When he next spoke, his voice was flat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Tav rolled her eyes, a gesture Astarion loathed. “Tell you what, Star? That I had a bad dream?” She huffed and slid off the piano bench. The train of her midnight blue dress swished behind her as she walked over to the window. “I didn’t know how or when to bring it up. I certainly didn’t know it was real, or important.”
“Well, it seems that it is,” Astarion said. He followed her over to the window and placed his hand atop hers. Without taking her eyes off the horizon, Tav flipped her hand over to link her fingers with his as she had done hundreds of times before. Tav’s hand was familiar, as if it had always been his to hold. They stood in silence for a moment, gazing out the window. Tav’s thumb brushed over his hand, a small but comforting gesture.
“I’m going to find him,” Astarion said quietly.
“I know,” Tav replied. She turned to face him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her head came to rest under his chin and Astarion pressed a kiss into her hair. “Bring him home, Star, and we’ll figure it out together.”