The Elfsong Tavern, although barely, was still standing, even after the wreckage caused by the Netherbrain.
It had taken the help of a devil, but they had done it. And nearly failed due to Cazador's, as strange as it was.
Baldur's Gate was slowly blooming once again, even in the face of tragedy, but Astarion had no interest in his city. Instead, his gaze was fixed on a specific window of the Elfsong. He did not move, not even as he heard steps coming towards him.
"Last I checked, she was sleeping. It should be..." Gale hesitated "... fine for now."
"Fine. Always the optimist, aren't you?" Astarion replied. His tone was filled with bitterness, without him bothering to hide it.
"There might still be a cure. Some way to free her from Bhaal's chains," the wizard continued, although more hesitant this time. "And maybe... deep inside, the girl that made me want to live, that showed how precious your friendship is... Maybe she's still there. Just dormant."
"And in the meantime, she lives in chains, like an animal, and keeps on killing. Against her will. How long against it, I wonder?" mused Astarion. Shaking his head, he added, "I did not know. Perhaps..."
"Astarion," Gale called, this time with more decision "You had little choice. We could not allow them to succeed."
What follows is but a whisper. "I know."
Without another word, Astarion walked towards the entrance. Every step closer to Kelsya's room was heavier and heavier. The door creaked open, revealing her form. She was sitting on the floor, her back to him, and her once luscious, dark hair was now nothing more than locks falling down without any elegance.
"Go... away" he heard her say, her voice croaky. She did not speak much, these days.
Astarion hesitated. Despite his best intentions, he was afraid. And most of all, unsure if these conversations had any effect on her fragile mind.
"Have you eaten? How are you feeling?" he asked, tentatively.
"Ravenous" she answered after a brief pause.
Sighing, he sat, too, careful in taking enough distance. He did not speak again, taking in her figure with his gaze. He still remembered how gracious she had been. Now, she was always crouched like an animal, and her once bright smile was always, always predatory.
"I'm sorry. I am" Astarion confessed. And even though he knew Gale was right, he was. "I only wanted to save you. I did not know..."
He stopped, noticing her shoulders shaking. As she started sobbing, without thinking he walked to her, holding her from behind in a simple, heartfelt hug. For a moment she flinched, tugging at her chains, only to keep sobbing. Soon, her tears started wetting his arms.
"I was born... like this. You are not... you didn't..." she whispered between tears.
Memories came back flowing. She opening that barn door, only to have a playful moment with him. The way she had earned Scratch's friendship, little by little. Even the brutal, yet magnificent, way she had convinced Yurgir to kill himself was better than the way she was now unable to express herself with ease.
"I know. I know. I know you tried. You... tried... a bridge to reach me. Your plan. Nice... little plan. No love, no kindness. You could not..." she drew a deep breath. Slowly, she raised her hands closer to his arms, only to drop them abruptly. "I could not... you were suffering and I had my pride..."
"Shh. It's fine. It will be fine" Astarion whispered in Kelsya's ear. As he had done many times, he laid his face between her neck and her shoulder.
Her tears did not stop, and her words were now barely audible. "No. No. Tell me... it had to be. I was fucked from the start. We were... fucked, no matter. What. I was... scarred, always." A pause, a trembling sigh. "Tell me... I did not fail."
Astarion remained silent, listening to her labored breath. He could not bring himself to even think that she could be right. That would mean he had fallen in love with a fake self of hers. And that simply could not be true. No fake person could have been able to make him feel again.
Suddenly, Kelsya grasped his arms. Her grip was strong, and she had slowly started to growl. Her voice, though, was still hers. "Please. End this. Make me... go... numb me. End. Me. Like you did... back then."
"No" he whispered at first. "No, I won't," he said, again, in her ear. Now, however, she was struggling and her breaths were more and more rugged. She was losing herself and becoming the Urge, once again. Again, again, and perhaps for her eternity, and his. Her breaking more and more, and his with hers, each time she succumbed to her Father's will.
It took all his courage to sink his fangs in her skin. Her blood was still intoxicating as the first time, but he could not enjoy its taste. He drank and drank again, her body went limp against his, her head fell back on his shoulder, and soon enough she released him. She sighed, she whimpered.
In the end, when he looked at her, she was finally at peace. He had made it. He had freed her. He, though, would always be trapped in this very moment.
