Chapter Text
Fifty years.
Fifty years since the defeat of the Absolute.
Fifty years since Gale had asked her to marry him.
And fifty years since Phaedra had been back to Baldur’s Gate.
Sure, she had sent letters to friends, met up with some of the others in Daggerford, a small town just south of Waterdeep, or invited old friends to visit the tower in Waterdeep proper. But she had never ventured back to the city she helped save.
It wasn’t as if Gale had kept her away; no, far from it. Gale had always asked, “Phaedra, my love, would you like to visit once more?”
She had always put it off. “Perhaps some other time,” she always said. There were always new lands to explore, after all.
But she could no longer say that to him.
Phaedra stared at the simple, yet beautifully decorated tombstone, Tara by her side.
“It was his time, dear,” the tressym said. “But I do miss him.”
Being a drow, Phaedra knew she would outlive Gale by centuries. But having to face that fact now tore at her heart. The only thing keeping her from spending another month crying in the tower was that Gale had given her one final mission.
Gale, the sentimental fool, had written a bunch of letters to their mutual friends, for her to deliver in case of his death. Perhaps he had guessed that she would need something to distract her.
No, he knew she would need the distraction. A final, farewell gift to show that he understood her. That he cared about her. That he loved her.
Phaedra swallowed the lump in her throat. “I miss him too, Tara.” She hefted the stack of letters in her satchel. “But I know for a fact that he doesn’t want me to stay still for too long. He knows… knew me, all too well.”
Tara wanted to stay behind and watch over the tower until she returned, or if she didn’t, wait for one of Gale’s apprentices to take over the tower, if she judged them worthy. That left Phaedra free to travel to Baldur’s Gate and hand deliver the letters to each of her fellows.
Her first stop was in the former Shadow-cursed lands. Halsin had greeted her warmly, hugging her tightly and seemingly unwilling to let her go. She spent a night there, entertaining his plethora of adopted children and touring the town, which has grown quite large in the fifty years she had been gone. The original children she had remembered were all grown up now, and these new children were either recently adopted, or children of the original war orphans who enjoyed spending time with ‘Daddy Halsin.’
Though reluctant to let her leave so soon, Halsin bid Phaedra farewell after wrangling a promise to visit sooner than fifty years. She traveled along the River Chionthar to find Shadowheart and her father, still taking care of their menagerie of animals and their farm, living a quiet, simple life. Phaedra gave her respects to her mother, who had passed long ago, leaving a small bouquet of wildflowers on her gravestone.
“I need to find Lae’zel somehow as well,” Phaedra said, staring at the letter that Gale had written for her.
Shadowheart held out her hand. “I’ll give it to her.”
She blinked. “R-really? You know where she is?”
The cleric shrugged. “She visits me from time to time, when she is able to take time away from her duties in the Astral Sea.”
Phaedra smiled. Wow. I’m glad they still see each other, to be honest. She hardly ever came to see me. “So how is she?”
Shadowheart shrugged. “She looks nearly the same as she did when she left. Apparently one doesn’t age in the Astral Sea.”
“Ah. Well, give her my best. And tell her to visit me, dammit.”
Shadowheart smiled. “Of course.”
Phaedra handed over the letter, had a pleasant dinner, and spent the night in the barn with Scratch's great-grand pup and the owlbear for old time’s sake. The next morning, she bid farewell and traveled onward towards the Gate.
Along the way, she stopped by the old ruins where they had first run into Withers. Though the tomb was empty, she left Gale’s letter for him on the sarcophagus and camped outside for a night. The next morning, she went to check again and saw that the letter had disappeared.
It didn’t take long for her to find Jaheira, though when she asked about Minsc, the High Harper only shrugged and would speak no further. But the shielded pain in her eyes said enough. Phaedra handed both letters to her and wished her well before visiting her next two companions.
Tucked away in the lower city, a small house with flowers and a signpost above the door, decorated with flames and two crossed swords, brought a smile to Phaedra’s face. She knocked on the door and waited.
A crashing sound, followed by the pounding of feet, made her cringe, but she managed to put on a smile right before the door swung open.
“Aunty Phaedra!”
A young tiefling woman immediately grabbed her and pulled her into a huge bear hug, lifting her off the ground and swinging her back and forth.
“I’m glad to see you too, Rieta,” Phaedra said, squeezing the woman in return. About two years after being forced to return to Avernus, Karlach and Wyll had found a way to fix her engine and they returned to Baldur’s Gate, as the Twin Blades of Avernus. They had made a good life, and though they didn’t officially retire, they had left most of the adventuring and fighting to their daughter while they helped train Flaming Fist soldiers.
“Soldier, it’s good to see you,” Karlach said as she came outside. She looked just as brilliant as she had the last time she had seen her ten years ago in Waterdeep. “Took you long enough to come back.”
As Rieta dragged her into the house, Phaedra smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry that… certain circumstances brought me back.”
Sitting at a dining table with Wyll, Karlach, and Rieta, Phaedra handed them the letters. “Gale… wanted me to hand deliver letters to everyone…”
She swallowed. She felt better with each letter she gave, as if the physical weight being lifted was lifting the weight off her heart as well. But it still hurt.
Fortunately, Phaedra was quickly surrounded by hugs, and they had a good evening of conversing about the past and catching up about the present.
“So who else do you need to visit?” Wyll asked, sitting with Karlach and Phaedra by their fireplace. Rieta had gone to bed, to be ready to wake up early for a mission in the morning.
Phaedra pulled a letter out of her satchel. “Well… just one more now.”
“You can probably find him at the Elfsong,” Wyll said. “He’s… changed.”
She tipped her head. “In… a good way?”
Karlach and Wyll shared a smile. “I’d say so,” Karlach said. Then she frowned. “Didn’t he send you letters too?”
“He did on occasion, but they were… not very descriptive. Mostly a ‘I’m doing great, murdering the bad guys.’”
They laughed. “Sounds like him. When you find him, maybe ask him more about it. He’s more of a talker than a writer,” Wyll said.
Phaedra nodded. Interesting.
***
The next morning, Phaedra went with Wyll and Karlach to help train the new recruits at the Flaming Fist. There were certainly some wide-eyed recruits who asked a million questions once they realized who she was, and she weaved them a tale worthy of a bard’s approval. After doing some actual training, she spent the rest of the day walking around the city, looking at all of the ways the city had grown, and reminiscing at the things that hadn’t changed.
And once the sun began to set, she made her way to the Elfsong.
Nursing a drink at the bar, she immediately sensed a certain someone making their way toward her.
“Darling, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
Turning around, she expected Astarion to be his usual fabulous self.
Instead, she was surprised to see him wearing a dark blue shirt and leather breeches, simple adventuring gear. And yet somehow, it still looked good on him. Ridiculously good, in fact. “You’re not looking too bad yourself.”
He flipped his hair a bit with his hand and turned around to show Phaedra his outfit. “I look good in anything, my dear. But you already know that.”
She laughed. Gods, I didn’t realize how much I missed his sass. “Right, right.”
“But I’m sure you’re not here just to look at my clothes.” He looked around. “Where’s your other half? I’m sure I would have heard him lecturing me by now.”
Her lips trembled.
It only took a moment for him to realize it, and he frowned.
Ever since Phaedra had helped him kill Cazador, she had noticed that Astarion looked at her with a kinder gaze. He spoke with her more often, shared his thoughts with her more openly. They had become friends after everything, and she truly cared about his happiness.
After he had run off to hide from the blistering rays of the sun on the docks that fateful day, she had tried to look for him, but he was very skillful in hiding. She knew that, of course. It wasn’t until Withers’ banquet six months later that she saw him again, hugged him, and told him she had missed him. She had been pleasantly surprised to hear that he had become an adventurer and hero in his own right, dispatching criminals in the night.
“See you later, darling,” was the last thing he had said to her.
And now, he stood before her, close enough to see the kindness in his eyes once more.
It was enough to bring out her emotions once more. Shakily, she took a breath. “I… I have a letter for you, from Gale.”
Astarion stepped closer, not quite crowding her, but close enough so they could speak quietly. He took the letter gently from her grasp. “I am curious. Do you mind?”
Phaedra waved her hand. “Go ahead. I’ll just finish my drink.” Turning away to sip her mead, she subtly watched him as he read the letter. His eyes widened slightly before his expression went back to being neutral. When he finished, he tucked the letter away in his pocket.
“Thank you for delivering this, my friend.” Taking her hand, he squeezed it gently. “Did he have you deliver letters to everyone?”
She nodded.
He sighed. “That man.” Putting one hand on the small of her back, he led his drow friend away from the bar and into the moonlit night. “This can’t be easy for you.”
Phaedra shook her head. “I knew I’d outlive him. But… I wanted to hold onto him for as long as possible.” She stared up at the sky. “He talked to me before”—she swallowed—“before he passed, about how much I meant to him, and how much he wants me to be free after he’s gone. To go on living and loving with vigor, because that was why he fell in love with me.”
She realized that Astarion was walking quietly with her, taking her along well lit streets, letting her speak. “I think he knew that I would need this, to go on a journey, to see our old friends, to reconnect with the world.” Phaedra turned to him, a wry smile on her face. “I spent a whole month holed up in his tower, not doing a damn thing. That doesn’t sound like me at all, does it?”
Astarion laughed. “No, it doesn’t. I would have thought you were a changeling, if I had seen you like that.” His eyes traced the shape of her face. “You’ve grown your hair out since I last saw you. You always kept it to such a short length before.”
She shrugged. “I, erm, didn’t really… pay attention to much of anything, after Gale passed.”
He watched her for a moment, clearly thinking. “Would you, perhaps, like to help me with something tonight? If you’re up for it.”
“What am I helping with?”
“Oh, just a small problem.”
“I know how ‘small’ problems suddenly become larger with you, Astarion.”
He chuckled. “Alright, well, there’s this group of ruffians…”
***
It was invigorating, being in the fray once more, fighting the good fight, helping folks in need. Phaedra finally felt like she had come back home, after six months of staying in Baldur’s Gate. She was pleasantly surprised by how easy it was to distract herself with helping others, and in a way, giving her purpose.
She missed Gale, of course. She missed being in their tower, sitting on their favorite settee on the balcony, watching the sunset and sharing a book. She missed helping Gale with magical experiments, practicing her druidic arts in the yard with him taking notes, taking short trips to the surrounding areas to explore new sights, collect new herbs, and maybe help a few people along the way. It had been a lovely, idyllic dream.
Now, being back in Baldur’s Gate, she had a new dream. A dream with friends who were close by, that she could see every day if she so wished. She split her time helping Karlach and Wyll train the Flaming Fist, assisting Rolan at Sorcerous Sundries, accompanying Rieta on some of her missions, and even taking breaks to visit Shadowheart and Halsin.
But she spent most of her time with Astarion. Every night was a new adventure, whether it was breaking up a bar fight, getting chased by the guards of an illegal underground gambling ring, or reverse pickpocketing a small child who was begging for money in the alleys.
“So has this been your life for the past fifty years?”
“Has that much time passed?”
“I suppose it’s not long for us elves,” Phaedra said, huffing slightly in the cold night air. They were sprinting away from the Undercity, trying not to let the Zhentarim thugs on their heels catch up to them. However, the jangle of gold in Astarion’s pouch was giving them away.
“Well, it’s a drop in the bucket for me, since I’ll live forever.”
“Lucky you.”
“Perhaps.”
Phaedra glanced over, surprised at Astarion’s bittersweet tone.
But soon she had no time to ponder it, as they found themselves at a dead end.
“I thought you knew the Undercity!” she hissed.
Astarion shrugged as he pulled out his dagger. “Look darling, I don’t know every tunnel in this place. Especially since people keep digging new ones.”
Phaedra rolled her eyes as she got ready to wild shape. “Pick one.”
“Hm, I haven’t seen your owlbear form in some time.”
“Good choice.” Turning to see the thugs brandishing their swords, Phaedra grinned as she stomped on the ground, feeling the wild change take over her body. “Let’s go.”
***
Adrenaline running through her veins, Phaedra ran alongside her partner in not-quite-crime, laughing into the night air. She followed him back to his home, a simple townhouse in the lower city with a ground level and a large, windowless basement.
Just as she was about to part ways, Astarion cleared his throat. “Do you want to come in?”
Phaedra was a bit surprised. After six months, this was the first time he had invited her. “Sure. “I’m curious what kind of place you’ve been living in all this time.”
The ground level merely consisted of a vestibule with a small sitting area, a door to a small guest bedroom that was minimally furnished, and another door leading to a stairwell. The basement was very lavishly decorated, and she could see three doors that connected to other rooms. It also had an emergency exit into the dark alley behind the building, just in case.
“Gods, did you see the look on their faces when you transformed?” he asked as he led her into the living room in the basement. “I got a free hit on them, they were so dumbfounded.”
Phaedra cackled. “Good. Hope they dream of me beating their faces in while they’re passed out.” She dropped her gear on the table in the basement living area. “I’m surprised you didn’t kill them.”
Astarion shrugged. “I fed on one of those other thugs earlier, no need to murder all of them so quickly.” He sat on a luxurious armchair, taking out a rag to clean his daggers. “Have to keep some of my blood supply intact for the future, after all.”
“Wow, you really have changed.”
He laughed softly. “I’ve learned to enjoy life with a little bit of planning. Something I learned from the rest of you.”
Phaedra smiled as she looked around Astarion’s living room. There were classic paintings, some she recognized as loot they had taken from various heists around the city back in the day.
“Didn’t you steal that from Lady Jannath’s estate when she was preoccupied with that artist?”
“And you provided an excellent distraction. I never thanked you for that.”
Phaedra shook her head. “I probably would have told you to put it back.”
“And that’s why I never mentioned it.” He finished cleaning his daggers and put them aside as he got up. “And now it’s here”—he gestured towards the painting—“splendidly adorning my wall.”
She sighed. “Well, I suppose no one has missed it since then…” Getting up to join him, she admired the colors, the paint strokes, the whole composition. “I have to admit, it is beautiful.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Phaedra looked over at Astarion to see him watching her, a curious look in his eyes. Wait. That look. “Astarion?”
He stepped closer to her. “Yes, darling?”
“What are you doing?”
“You have some debris in your hair,” he said, reaching up to pick out bits of dirt from her snowy white hair. His fingers trailed down to the tips of her hair before he softly caressed her cheek with the back of his knuckles, his gaze softer than she had ever seen.
“Um, thank you.” Phaedra stepped back, suddenly shy. He’s been doing this more often as of late. It’s not unwelcome, but it’s certainly an odd development. “This is the first time I’ve been to your place,” she mumbled, changing the subject awkwardly.
Astarion stepped back, and he was suddenly his usual self again. “Well, let me give you the grand tour.”
It was only three rooms, but he chattered away as he showed them to her. The luxurious powder room had two sinks and a tub large enough for two, with a door that connected to a grand bedroom with minimalist, stylish decor. There was a king sized bed covered in black silk sheets, and night stands on either side with two drawers each, clearly stuffed with knick knacks and jewelry.
The last room was a classically styled office, with an ebony stained mahogany desk, and bookcases along all of the walls, floor to ceiling. They were all filled, and there were even a few stacks on the floor where extra books couldn’t fit.
“That’s… a lot of books.”
Astarion shrugged. “There might be a few duplicates in there, I’m never quite sure.”
“Did you pilfer these too?”
“Perhaps.”
Phaedra grinned. “Do you want me to help you pick out the copies? We could donate them to the library.”
“You’re always so… nice.”
“Those thugs we clobbered underground may not agree with you.”
He laughed. “No, I suppose they wouldn’t.”
They were back in the living room, Phaedra staring at her pile of loot and her quarterstaff leaning against a chair. “So, I guess I should head back to the Elfsong.”
“You’ve been staying there for the last six months. Why didn’t you take Karlach and Wyll’s offer to stay at their place?”
Phaedra shrugged. “You know me. I don’t want to inconvenience anyone, nor outstay my welcome.”
“You could stay here.”
“Did you not hear me?”
“I did, and I’m telling you that it’s more of an inconvenience to me, having to go over to the Elfsong to find you.”
She snorted. “Alright, that’s fair. But you have to help me move my stuff.”
***
Phaedra piled her stuff into the guest bedroom upstairs. It was a modest little room with a small night stand, a twin sized bed, a chest of drawers, and an empty bookcase.
“It’s like you didn’t even attempt to make this look lived in.”
“Why? No one comes here. And I’ve laid traps on all the entrances and windows. A thief would have to be extremely talented to get past all of that.”
She could only nod as she put her things away. She paused when she pulled out a small, dark blue brocade pouch.
Peering over her shoulder, Astarion hummed. “Is that the necklace I gave you back then?”
Phaedra nodded as she opened the pouch and pulled out the delicate silver chain, studded with small sapphires. It was an elegant and minimalist style, designed to be more like a choker. “It was so pretty, I couldn't bring myself to sell it with the rest of the loot.”
Her memories came bubbling up from deep in her mind.
“Where did you find this, Astarion?”
“Does it matter?”
“If I wear it and someone recognizes it, then yes, it matters.”
Astarion shrugged. “No one will recognize it. Just take it. When else will I ever be this generous?”
“True. Oh, did you need my blood tonight?”
His gaze was heated as he smiled, his lips curving perfectly. “Darling, I'm always up for a little treat.”
“Yes, yes, now put your seduction face away, you know it doesn't work on me. And Gale will get mad.”
Astarion laughed. “We wouldn't want that now, would we?” His expression softened as he stepped closer, placing his hands delicately on her shoulders. “I know I don't always say it, but it's a gift every time you let me taste you.” Dipping his head down to her exposed neck, he whispered reverently, “Thank you,” before taking a bite.
Astarion could tell Phaedra was spacing out, so he gently took the necklace from her hand. “Hold your hair up, darling.”
Phaedra came out of her memories and did as he asked.
His fingers glided along her skin as he carefully clasped the necklace around her neck. Staring down at her neck, Astarion felt the urge to hold her close and bite down, but he restrained himself. It had been so long since he had tasted her, felt her slight tremor as he drank. He knew she had fed him as a friend, but he still craved the closeness those few precious moments offered him.
Reaching up to run her fingers along the necklace, she turned around and tipped her head curiously at him. “Well? Does it look good on me?”
“Of course it does. I picked it out, remember?”
Remembering the myriad times he had pilfered a piece of jewelry or some other knick-knack that ended up being worth a sizable amount, even as they were trying to survive the onslaught of the Absolute and everything in between, Phaedra laughed and batted at his arm. “You always did have good taste, even if it got in the way of our work at times.”
She noticed that Astarion had stepped back. Looking toward the only window, she realized a faint sliver of dawn light was seeping through the blackout curtain.
“Oh. Right. Better get you back downstairs.”
He nodded. “Get some rest, darling. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Good, uh, well, have a good rest, Astarion.”
Smiling at her, he winked before heading back to the basement.
Phaedra remained unmoving until she heard the basement door close. Then, without really thinking, she plopped down on the bed and fell into reverie, letting the memories wash over her.
***
Astarion climbed slowly into his grandiose bed. Normally he’d revel in the feel of the silk sheets against his bare skin, but today, he longed for something else.
He longed for her. It pained him to have her so close, and yet she felt just as far as she had when she was in Waterdeep. He wanted her in bed with him, to feel her skin next to his. To touch her. Not even in a lustful way, just… skin to skin, laying beside her.
Sighing heavily, he fell into a trance, but his mind tortured him by remembering all of his interactions with Phaedra.
He'd be lying if he said this wasn't a common occurrence.