Winry paced back and forth with giddy anticipation. She walks up and down the Lower City streets, passing the vendors, storefronts and fellow Baldurians with nervous excitement. Her armor clanking along with her hurried movements. She wonders if he'll like it, she wonders if he won't. She contemplates if it turned out right, if the artist truly captured his magnificence, his beauty. What if he didn't use enough red? What if his expression turned out odd? What if it doesn't look like him? What if he hates it?
She tried to quell her own anxieties with thoughts of reassurance. This painter was one of the finest on the sword coast, and his expertise will surely prove itself in this commission. His skills are renowned, and it took her ages to hire him. Hells, for what she paid for it, it had BETTER turn out perfectly.
Mostly, she had just sincerely hoped he would like it. Winry was not well-versed in matters of the heart, and grand gestures were never her forte. She had concocted this idea ever since their conversation back at camp about how he couldn't see his own reflection. She'd recalled how it had touched her, how sad it had made her, and how badly she wanted to help him. Such a waste of true visual perfection, so beautiful a man who could not even look to see it. She got to delight in looking at him everyday. She often found herself distracted by his perfectly coiffed silver curls, his piercing ruby red gaze, and the tiny little mole that graced his cheek.
He had no idea of course. This gesture, a thoughtful surprise. Winry had wanted to do something truly nice for him, as their relationship has grown so much closer in the past few months. He deserved more kindness than could ever be shown to him, all he knew was the cruelty that life had met him with. Even still, it caused her great anxiety, this act of earnest, true, love.
She continued her pacing as she waited for him to meet her. She relayed the plan to herself, in an effort to regain control of her edginess. He would meet her there in the street, and she would tell him she needed to show him something. She was sure his persistent nature would cause him to endlessly question her on the way, but she would remain vague for the short walk to the artist's gallery. Then she would have the artist unveil the portrait and Astarion would hopefully be elated. Hopefully. Unless the painting turned out SHIT, in which case it would be a terribly unfortunate embarrassment for all parties.
She'd considered that she maybe should've checked the finished painting out first, to avoid such disaster, but alas, it's too late for that now.
Her pacing and ruminating was stopped by a firm hand being placed on her shoulder. Winry turned around to meet the very crimson eyes she'd stared into so many times before.
"Now, what has gotten you so worked up, darling? I've been watching you march up and down the street for the last 5 minutes." He exclaimed.
What a bastard. Of course, he'd been secretly watching her, the sneaky rogue.
"I'm not worked up! I'm absolutely, perfectly fine. Come with me! I want to show you something." She returned offering him a beaming smile.
Astarion looked at her with an upturned brow, perplexed, as this was very out of the ordinary for the straightforward fighter. He'd wondered what she'd gotten herself into this time. With all the horrors and atrocities they'd seen, she could be taking him into quite anything. A fierce battle, a long-winded quest, a vicious enemy, or a poor helpless victim, he'd quickly run through all the possible scenarios in his mind. But what threw his hypotheses off the most, was her sheer excitement.
Winry offered Astarion her hand with a warm "Come on, then!" and she guided him down the busy street. They hurried along the buzzing thoroughfare in held hands.
"Sooo, what is it that you wanted to show me?" He probed cautiously.
Just as she knew he would.
"Don't worry, Astarion, you'll see!" She answered back.
"I feel like I'm walking into an ambush. And why are you so excited?" He questioned haughtily.
Winry laughed at his unease. She'd expected this, knowing him all too well.
"I guess it's something like that" She maintained her vagueness.
The pair had continued along the bustling Lower City road, hand in hand, until they came to a stop. They had finally reached their destination. She paused in front of the gallery door for just a moment and took in a deep breath.
Astarion looked at the gallery's sign and back at Winry to continue his inquiries.
"Vanilith's art gallery? Why are we here?" he fussed, "This had better not be another cursed painting quest. That Fevras bastard didn't even pay us the last time!"
"Just come inside, Astarion" Winry instructed.
She opened the door and he obediently followed in behind her. The gallery was nothing short of magnificent, chocked full of paintings of glorious rolling landscapes, beautiful portraits of the local elites, and realistic captures of unique scenery. Each painting was illuminated brilliantly by careful lighting, and every color popped with the gentle paint strokes. Astarion and Winry briefly scanned the impressive gallery until the couple's silent admiration was cut short by a man's warm greeting.
"There she is! Winry, how good to see you. We've been expecting you. And you've brought your handsome friend! Quite the vision indeed. If you'll both please follow me" beckoned the painter himself, Alaric Vanilith, knowingly.
The painter was much kinder than she'd first expected. An artist of such reputation, she was sure would be pompous, cold and callous, with an insufferable air of hubris, but she was pleasantly surprised upon their first meeting. She'd recalled their introduction, and how moved he had seemed by her commission, how kind his voice was. Winry had spoken to him for hours upon hours about how important Astarion was to her, and about how his "condition" had warranted such a painting. This job had taken weeks to undergo and was carried out in complete secrecy as to maintain the surprise. Winry provided him with lengthy descriptions of his appearance, his character, and even provided him with her own crude pencil drawings of his likeness. The fighter and the painter bonded, laughed and had gotten to know each other well.
Because having Astarion pose for his portrait, as customary, would ruin the surprise, Winry had to use these unconventional methods to provide the painter with the necessary imagery. Winry had even organized secret espionage missions, wherein Vanilith would watch them from afar, to study Astarion's appearance. It was no small job indeed, and now the time had finally finally come to see the fruits of their labor. The anticipation was almost too much to bear.
The painter, Vanilith, lead Winry and Astarion through the gallery towards a quiet backroom. A private studio, surprisingly humble, compared to the ornately decorated gallery. There were scattered canvases of all sizes, messily coloured palettes, wooden easels and various paints of all colors. Some books were strewn about the room, and some of his works in progress were waiting patiently to be resumed.
In the middle of the room sat a covered painting gently resting atop an easel. A dramatic deep red drape was cast over it and the painter walked right towards it, the pair of lovers following in tow.
Astarion's brow remained in its upturned position in his bewilderment as he waited for whatever presentation he was about to be shown.
Vanilith looked at Winry, and she nodded at him as signal to remove the covering.
"Astarion and Winry. May I please present to you, my newest painting" Vanilith exclaimed theatrically, "I have called it, The Little Star". He then removed the drape with a flourish and allowed the couple the chance to view it completely.
The studio was met with the couple's collective gasp, and then an overwhelming silence.
Winry's eyes frantically moved back and forth, up and down, analyzing every inch of the artwork. She could hardly take it all in. The richness of the colors used, every single line and every brushstroke. The painting simply was perfect.
The painting was just as beautiful as Astarion was. It featured him in his usual ruffled white blouse against a soft sunlit background. He was posed comfortably against a stonewalled miscellaneous courtyard of Baldur's Gate. The portrait's expression was one of Astarion's best, a rare, warm, genuine close-mouthed smile. Winry swore she could even see the painting's eyes twinkling.
Vanilith missed nothing. He captured every single beautiful curl, wrinkle and even the tiny little mole on the vampire's cheek that Winry was oh so fond of. The painter was truly a master of his craft and the painting encapsulated that completely. He didn't miss the length of his lashes, or the point of his ears. He masterfully captured the hue of Astarion's pale skin, and the alluring shape of his lips.
After Winry finished her rapid study of the painting, her eyes went to Astarion next. His mouth was agape and he was at a loss for words. If she wasn't so preoccupied with the drama of the moment, she would've found herself victorious for catching his tongue. She tried to read his face, tried to perceive any signs of disdain, or admiration, but all she could see from him was his pure, unadulterated shock.
The silence hung in the air pervasively, as his gaze remained affixed to the artwork, and Winry's gaze affixed to him.
After what felt like a quiet eternity, finally, she could stand it no longer. She had to break the silence.
"So…" she asked him sheepishly, "do you like it?"
"Do I like it? I… I can't believe it. When did you do this, how did you do this? This is me? This is… what I look like?" He asked breathlessly.
"Well, it wasn't easy," she answered quietly. "You're so nosy, it's hard to keep things from you. And it took a really long time"
"I can't believe you. I can't believe this. I… I don't know what to say." he stated.
"You don't have to say anything. I wanted to do this for you because… because I love you, Astarion. I love you and you're beautiful, and you should get to see that. See it how, I get to see it, every single day", Winry professed genuinely.
A couple silent tears rolled down Astarion's pale cheeks, as he looked astoundedly at the small blonde half-elven woman before him. He could not believe, could not conceive such a gesture. He felt a sharp sudden pang in his undead heart. He wasn't sure how he could ever deserve such an adoring partner, such a sweet, innocent, unexpectant gift. She did this for him carefully, strategically, and thoughtfully, thinking of only his happiness. It was beyond him.
He also couldn't believe what he'd looked like. He'd only known that he was handsome from how other people had treated him. He'd never known what other people actually saw when they looked at him. He was finally able to see himself, to recognize himself, and appreciate the simple vanity that all non-vampires got to participate in.
Before he could think, he moved to wrap his arms around Winry. He enveloped her in a tight, desperate hug, and allowed his tears to fall freely. She returned his embrace, with a few of her own tears trickling down.
"From the bottom of my heart, thank you, Winry," He said, still wrapped in their hug. "I don't know how I could deserve this. I don't deserve you. I will never forget this."
Winry let out a small giggle and offered kindly, "You do deserve this. This and so much more. I am so glad you like it, I was a nervous wreck about it all morning"
They broke their hug apart, and Astarion turned to speak to the quietly and respectfully observing painter.
"Thank you for this as well. A beautifully flattering portrait, sincerely" Astarion thanked Vanilith earnestly, wiping his tears and shaking his hand.
"But of course. This piece was a joy to work on. And your beloved, a pleasure to work with. Please do find me again, should you need any work done in the future. Perhaps a portrait of the both of you next time?" suggested the merry artiste.
"We would love that, you have my most profound thank you, Alaric. The painting is absolutely breathtaking. We should probably get going though. Such a beautiful work of art should have an equally beautiful frame! Don't you think so, Astarion?" proposed a joyful Winry.
"I couldn't agree more, my darling girl", the vampire cooed in response.
The couple gingerly retrieved their new portrait and bade the painter a fond farewell. They walked out of the art gallery hand in hand, painting in their possession and made next for the nearest and most lavish frame shop in the city. Winry positively thrilled with the success of her endeavor, and Astarion still awestruck at her meaningful gesture. The two of them had grown even closer that day, and their love for one another even stronger. Privately, Astarion wondered how he could return such a favor to her, and schemed how he could even outdo it.
The vampire and the half-elf strolled happily to their next destination, and for once for the pair of heroes, all was well. They were simply two lovers enjoying their affection for one another, and they continued down the streets with two of the brightest smiles upon their faces.