Interlude of Sorts
Fate was a cruel bitch to say the least. There was a catch. There was always a catch.
Get a comfy job as one of the youngest magistrates in the Gate. Get beat to near death shortly after your first large ruling.
Get saved while on the brink of death. Serve 200 years as a slave (to say the least).
Get a mind-flayer parasite in your brain which negates said servitude and lets you enjoy the sun once again. Gets roped into saving the world with a rag-tag group of crazy people.
Kill your master. Find out you were almost part of a diabolical devil's plan.
Save the world. Loose the mind-flayer parasite and all its fantastic perks.
Find the love of your life. Loose her less than ten years after you find each other.
Life was a harsh balancing act in Astarion's life and death. Either all ups or all downs.
Right now, he was so low he might as well be buried in the dirt again.
"I'm sorry it ended like this."
Astarion refused to look up from the nearly year-old grave. Nightly, he would drag himself from the depths of whatever dark corner he found to hide in for the day and come to rest against the cold stone, generally with a bottle of whatever liquor he could steal in one hand and fresh flowers in the Ancunin. Beloved wife and friend. Saviour of Baldur's might as well have buried him along side her. Their friends did a disservice when the refused him.
"You know she would be yelling at your right now if she could see you." The unhelpful and somewhat chipper voice from above came again. The gentle glow from the newly appointed god radiated off the near by stones. "You look and smell worse then when we were travelling in the sewers, Grymforge and the Underdark combined."
"Good thing I no longer have to rely on fucking my way through life then, isn't it. Would be pretty hard to convince anyone to suck my cock in this state. So glad we went through all that to befree." The dry sarcasm came easier than any other emotion right now. he was hurt and everyone else might as well feel like him. He glanced over at the god and snorted. Especially that asshole.
"Its sad that you would piss away all that you and Tav worked for, believed in, this easily. It's insulting, to be truthful."
In a blink, the vampire spawn was standing with his hand wrapped tightly around the god's neck, fangs bared. If he was still human, Gale Dekarios' neck would have been snapped. As it was, Astarion just felt good knowing the godly being understood his intentions.
"Don't you dare lecture me on anything she would have thought. She was my wife. I know exactly what she would have said. Would have done. I can see her all the time telling me off and yet it still doesn't make a damn bit of difference because she is rotting six feet below me right now and I can't follow her." He paused and ran a hand over his face. "The only reason I haven't followed her until now is because I promised her ,I would try," he spit out the word. "Try and live, try and carry on but I can't!" Astarion tightened his grip even more. "I tried! And…and I'm done trying. Even for her."
Gale phased back a step and out of the vampire's grasp. He crossed his arms and sighed deeply. "You are a ruddy bastard, you know."
The God of Ambition slowly walked to the front of the grave and gently touched the top the simple stone, murmuring a few words to himself. Astarion turned away and grabbed for the nearly empty bottle a few feet away, taking a long swig to finish it off and toss it at his former friend. The bottle passed right through Gale and smashed against the headstone. His old mask, that coy smile crept onto his face as Gale flinched at the sound.
"Now can you leave me alone. I have finally dug up enough courage to watch the sunrise with my wife one last time."
"No. Not going to happen."
"What," Astarion scoffed. "Are you going to stop the sun from rising, oh great God? Save the poor vampire spawn from meeting his death because you feel bad?"
"Well, no- I don't have the ability to do that, although that would be fantastic- but…" he paused and met Astarion's gaze, hold up his hand in a familiar gesture. "I am here acting as nothing but a friend and a messenger right now. So put the fangs away and listen for once in your gods damn life."
"Surprised to see the God of Ambition reduced to a mere messenger boy so soon after his ascension."
Gale snorted. "Sometimes I wonder how we didn't kill you before the battle, you truly are a piece of work. But, that's besides the point. I am here to deliver a message to you from Tav."
His ears must not have been working. "What?"
"From Tav, Syltava? The one you so graciously-"
"Yes, I am aware. What the hell is the message, how didyouget a message?"
Gale shrugged. "I run in some different circles now a day, believe it or not. I was passed along a message from Tav. Seems some of the other gods had stock in what some of the mortals do in this realm and her death was…unexpected." He trailed off and he shifted back and forth on his feet- an old habit from his mortal days. "It seems her death caused an imbalance that needs to be righted."
"So, this wasn't supposed to happen?"
"So, it seems." Gale paused, noting the shift in the night sky. Dawn was approaching.
"What was her message?" Astarion's voice was almost a whisper. That fucking flicker of hope refused to die inside of him no matter how much he tried.
Gale looked over. "Wait."
"What?" Astarion snapped his hear up and snarled, his voice lilting up and down, showing his annoyance. "That's it? Wait?"
"Yes. Wait. The dead are not usually keen on prolonged speeches of eloquent discourse."
"Godsdamn, there has to be more than that."
"Unfortunately, not."
"Wait for what?"
"Her," was his quick answer. "If I was gambling man, I would bet she was asking you to wait for her. Now the only question is, are you going to be here when she comes back?"
If only to piss off the newly ascended god, Astarion would wait. That one word from her kept him going for days at first, then months, then years, decades and centuries. Eight centuries to be specific, nearly nine. 887 years. He let himself wallow for another year or so before living day to day by the skin of his fangs seemed pointless. He may as well make the waiting comfortable. Might as well prepare for when Tav would once again be in his life.
Gale had been right -as much as he hated to admit it, it would have been insulting to her senses to have come across him as he was on the night. He started by contacting the few people he knew in the city, some from the Guild, the Harpers, even some under the table jobs for the Archduke. He started to feed regularly and use his skill set to get some paid jobs.
Was it clean, honest work? Absolutely not. But it got him by and gave him some time grow and learn how to live again, on his own terms. To collect funds and favours. A few decades as an assassin for hire left him a bit bored at times so Astarion found himself falling back on some other old skills and habits to bide the time.
His embroidery and tailor work on his own equipment left some of the others jealous -or so he told himself- and quickly he also became the contact that many in the underground field would turn to for good light armour and clothing. This surprisingly grew into some of the undercover agents- some upper-middle class ladies and gentleman who -while on assignment- would refer to his designs and work when the inevitable gala would arise. Some of his work caught the eyes of several non-murderous patrons and slowly, before he even realised it, the once assassin for hire became a popular and reliable tailor and designer.
The work -while much tamer on a night-to-night basis- was reliable, comfortable and still allowed him that insight into the world that traded in secrets and lies. The things he would overhear from the ladies gossiping, maids whispering behind their mistresses backs or the men conversing with their confidants while working in his shop were just as valuable to the right people and it no longer required him to camp out in unideal locations. The secrets came to him. Between the astronomical prices he was able to charge for his pieces and the godly price he could sell secrets for, Astarion quickly rose in wealth and popularity nearing on nearly two hundred years after that fateful night in the graveyard.
As the world shifted around him through the centuries, the need to trade secrets died out as did the Harpers, then the Guild and others like them. The world was no longer the one he had cut his fangs on. The world of adventurers and magic shifted to safety and technology. Gone were the days of magical beings and danger from Elder Brains and most things shifted to folktales or museums.
His own talents thankfully grew and developed with the changing times. No matter what world Astarion lived-in, upper-class ladies and gentlemen still needed clothing and luxuries and he was more than happy to provide. He could fade into the background and let the name he developed for himself speak and carry on, seemingly passing from one generation to another. It was easier to fade when no one living knew him anymore.
Several decades into his second -third?- attempt at a life he found himself without friends. Some of their friends lasted longer than others, some he saw more often than others. They tried to meet at least once a decade. Wyll and Karlach stayed in Avernus and would try and visit him for a day or so every few years but they were the first to go. Lae'zel a few years after. Shadowheart a short few more after that. The former Sharran, turned Selunite had been the one who would stop by his shop several times a year to catch up. Even centuries later, Astarion would keep her favourite teacup tucked away in his cupboard just in case the cleric ever wanted to stop by for tea.
To his chagrin, a certain God of Ambition would peek his head in every few decades, even after their friends had passed- if for no other reason then to piss him off it seemed. The humor of the gods to have the two most incompatible of the companions end up being the only two to share in immortality wasn't lost on him. Somehow, they came to an awkward friendship, being the only two left who could keep the memories of those they lost alive in some way.
The ring of his phone shook Astarion from his musings. As always, around this time of year he tended to let his mind drift to centuries past. It was nearing on Tav's passing anniversary and the day that still clutched at his soul.
His phone seemed to ring again but he let it go. Might as well return to work, keep his hands busy while his mind wandered. Making suits at this point was completely mindless- as easy as breathing- not that he needed to.
His device rang again and Astarion briefly had thoughts about tossing it against the wall- for the third time that year. Against his better judgement, he picked up.
"Papa, how sharp are your blades?" came a cool female voice over the phone. No need for pleasantries.
He placed his phone on speaker before tossing it on the work table. "Daggers or shears, darling? Do you need a dress or a body"
Catiana sighed dramatically. "I'll take the dress but I'm looking for a body so either kind will do at this point, as long as they can kill someone."
Astarion reached for said shears and continued his work. Over the phone he could hear Adeline in the background- the elven sisters were never far from each other even after five hundred years together.
"Ignore her!" Adeline's voice finally came through the device. She must have wrangled it away from Cat. "This is entirely her fault and she just doesn't want to live with the consequences."
"It is not my fault," Cat huffed. "He was going out to dinner with another woman!"
"She was his co-worker!"
"So!"
"His co-worker who is married! Whose husband was with them at the restaurant!"
"Girls," he interjected. This could go on for a while if they got into one of their matches.
"So? They were obviously setting up a threesome!"
Addie sighed. "They were not. And even if they did, does it matter? You explicitly told him that you were not exclusive!"
"Not the point!" Cat yelled back.
"Loves," he tried again. He rubbed at his brow to relieve some of the tension. "It sounds like my blades are on pause until this is sorted out. A lot harder to hide bodies now a days so let us be sure this time."
Addie snorted. "This time, Papa? Did Cat already call in a favour like this?"
He shrugged and continued his work. "I don't keep track of favours from my daughters."
Astarion could hear the face Catiana made at Adeline. Probably sticking out her tongue like a child, not an over five hundred year old vampire spawn.
"And that is why we love you so," she responded.
"For my ability to kill your ex-lovers?" he quipped back, half-joking.
Adeline sighed. "Don't reduce yourself to that, Papa. We love you for you, just like we always have."
"And always will," Catiana shouted from the background.
"And I you, dears. Now, unless there is something else you need me for, I was in the middle of something that I need to return to."
"I did want to let you know we are all coming by to visit in a few weeks. Spend a few days, if that's okay?" Adeline explained. He could sense the tentativeness in her voice.
Astarion pursed his lips and frowned at the phone on the table. His girls were fiercely protective of him, even from himself and they too knew what the time of year was. From their first few years with him, all three girls made a point to surround him with as much love and care as they could when he still needed it most. Whether he wanted it or not.
"I have a lot of work lined up, dear. Not sure how much entertaining I would be this season." It was a half-hearted effort and he knew it.
Cat snorted. "Good thing Addie and Fie are masters at sewing and I am fantastic at getting your clients drunk enough to overlook anything!"
"Absolutely! Fie and I would love to give you a hand. I read the Spring Gala is coming up and figured you would be swamped. We will see you in a bit. Love you, Papa!"
"Love you!" Cat added in before the call was dropped.
Astarion stared down at the screen of his phone and shook his head at the image of the girls that popped up. They sent him an image of them smiling while holding up a sticky note with a heart drawn. They looked very much the same as when he had first come across them, the set of elven siblings turned spawn. Soft pale skin with no hits of blemishes -besides the matching scars on opposite sides of their neck. Dimples on Cat and none on Adeline. Pale lavender hair, almost pearlescent at times, that they typically had pulled back in intricate braids with soft red eyes, nearly more of a maroon colour. Both girls were about a head shorter than him, Catiana a scant bit taller than her older sister.
During his decades working as an assassin, some of his jobs lead him to cross paths with others like himself. Typically, it ended with him walking away the victor, only once it ended as a draw. Early on, about two hundred years after Tav's passing, he had been contracted to take out some beasts killing in a small village outside of Waterdeep. From his understanding a young vampire had been chased out by the more established coven in the city, most likely bitter about loosing potential ground and having to make due with a smaller population. Hard to hide in such a small village. When he arrived, Astarion was very quickly able to discover the reason behind the messy, bloody bodies left behind.
Two young vampire spawn were the culprits.
Their master was a newly created vampire and had succumbed to injuries from the ancient and much more experienced Vampire Master of Waterdeep. He had left behind his only two spawn- two elven sisters. They were hastily turned it seemed and their master had not had the time to teach them before he was killed. Astarion still remembered coming across the sisters -Adeline and Catiana- cowering at the back of the cave they had found for themselves. They were high-elves like himself- seemingly only a few years younger than he was when they were turned. Willowy and graceful with long soft lilac coloured hair, wearing the scraps of clothes they had obviously stolen from some of their victims. Their soft maroon eyes stared at him with fear when he first entered their cave.
He had done the only thing that had come to his mind. Astarion convinced them to come with him and dumped them off in the Underdark after some simple training on finding food in the depths. He had wiped his hands of them as he returned back to his simple home in Baldur's Gate. Thinking that was that, he was shocked when he returned from his next assignment to the two young women sitting silently in a corner in his small home. He returned them to the Underdark. They returned again. He only tried it twice more before giving in. They followed him everywhere after that and learned everything he had to teach.
Two hundred years passed before he came across Delphine, Fie as the sisters tended to call her. By this point, vampires had sunk into the dark more than they had been before. The ease of technology for firearms and silver bullets put quite the damper on even the most skilled of vampires. Most of the large covens had died off, many spawn killed or left Masterless to fend for themselves -which temporarily led to a spike in amateur monster hunters, much to Astarion's annoyance. He had all but retired from the shadows at this point but the last of the Guild contacted him to flush out a pesky spawn.
He found Delphine instead. She was a half-elf, seemingly in her early twenties when she was turned with sharp, deep red eyes and midnight black hair. She reminded him of his old friend at first glance, similar face shape and build. In the beginning, he almost wondered if she was a descendent of the cleric. She too- was left behind after her Master was killed. The hunters apparently gained a heart and didn't have it in them to kill the spawn. She was a very quiet soul, settled and calm. A complete opposite to the rambunctious sisters.
Yes, although his heart was left still with a large open wound that Tav had taken with her, the girls who had come into his life had somehow wriggled their way past his defences, much to his chagrin. Mostly because Tav had opened him up so slowly during their travels then in the few years they had together afterwards. She had shown him what love- actual love- could feel like. He craved it from a small select few. In the centuries past, he still had yet to ever find someone to fill that part of himself. He had taken a few lovers here and there over the years. Even had a few good friends who never lasted more than eighty or so years before they too left the mortal world.
Astarion's favorite clock chimed- 7:00. Time to get his night started. Thankfully with him owning his own shop he had been able to develop a work place where he was free to move around no matter the time of day- which when he was overly focused could be days and night straight through without pause. His home was above the shop, a rustic two-story apartment deep in the heart of the Gate.
Might as well get a coffee, run his errands then return to work before the stores closed. As spring was shifting into summer, his allotted hours outside were beginning to grown shorter. He deftly marked his workplace and headed out on foot.
Never would Astarion expect that he had finally waited long enough.