Chapter Text
“Not even a drop for me?” Astarion pathetically inquired.
Roslin threw her coat over his head.
“Stop flirting,” said Shadowheart, taking the healing potion from Roslin to take a long drink herself. “By the gods, Astarion, you can’t tell me you didn’t see that tripwire.”
“I didn’t see that tripwire,” said Astarion. “And it was Rosie’s fault, anyway, saying I didn’t know what I was doing—”
“Tymora’s fucking tits,” said Roslin. “Shadowheart, give me that potion, I’m going to hit him with it.”
“One more blow will probably kill me,” said Astarion, wriggling a bit in her lap. “I am very poorly. I took all of that explosive fire for you, you know—”
“Oh, here,” said Roslin, offering her wrist, “if it’ll shut you up.”
Jaheira was watching them both dubiously, with that same expression she’d had on three years ago when Roslin had tried to flirt their way out of a Zhent outpost—like she hoped it was all an act to keep the idiot calm, because the alternative was too disturbing for her to consider. Roslin decided to very coolly and very professionally ignore it.
“Come over here and get a drink,” she called towards Jaheira. “You look like shit.”
“I prefer my bloodthirst to be sated on the battlefield, cub,” Jaheira called back, “not thanks to an offered vein.”
“What—that’s—I’m offering the fucking healing potion, Jaheira,” said Roslin, who had really had more than enough of today. “And you’ve had enough,” she added towards Astarion, “my wrist’s going to go numb.”
Astarion studied her expression, then lightly inquired, “All right, darling?”
It was an actual question. Roslin wasn’t sure how to feel about it.
“I don’t know,” she said, addressing her answer to the group rather than Astarion. “Weird to be home, that’s all. I guess I was expecting that we’d at least have another day or two before we were getting blown up and shot at and almost fireworks’d to death, but Baldur’s Gate never sleeps. Even if this is only Rivington.”
“If only Rivington has a passel of fireworks in a civilian’s basement, I look forward to the rest of the city,” said Minthara dryly.
Astarion’s thumb rubbed quietly against the inside of Roslin’s wrist. It was the sort of thing he’d have done to look like he was being kind, a few months ago, except this time he actually did avoid pressing in on the wound he’d created. Conscientious as shit. She didn’t look at him, but she knew he felt her pulse jump towards his touch in response.
“Well, I’m…not sure if this is going to be good news or bad news,” said Wyll awkwardly, “but while the rest of you were—um—”
“Setting off explosives in an enclosed space and almost dying,” Lae’zel supplied.
“Yes. That. Lae’zel and I received…” Wyll held out a letter. “Well, it looks like it’s for you.”
“For me?” Roslin repeated. “Who the hells could have—”
The answer struck her immediately. With a long, low groan, she pressed her forehead into her knees, forgetting about everything other than sheer fucking frustration.
“...Are you all right?” asked a bemused Karlach.
Jaheira was actually smirking when Roslin raised her head to glare. Fucking arsehole.
“It’s…” Gods, she did not want to get into this whole thing right now. “Just hand over the letter.”
The letter itself was immaculate—clearly delivered by some sort of private courier. The scroll was cream-colored, dotted with little yellow flowers all around the border. Expensive stationery. Pretty much exactly what Roslin was expecting.
Hello Roslin!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Obviously I try to keep apprised of your comings and goings to the best of my ability, and Majra mentioned offhandedly (via memo, as she has been rather too busy to visit home) that it seemed you’d returned to town!!!! All tangled up in some big thing or another, from what she had to say about it, though she was rather vague about the details and said it was best that I not get involved. Of course I would be more than happy to assist you in a secret-political-whatever-you-do capacity, but as you’ve said many many many (many) times that my assistance is not necessary and might even be a bit of a hindrance, I’ll simply casually mention that I could help and leave that decision up to you.
Anyway, if you have time, I’d love to host you and your friends in the Upper City for tea! Majra said she’d certainly be interested in attending any such event if it happened, possibly even with a few friends of her own, which would be so exciting as it has been a bit quiet at home lately. For me, at least! Majra and Evie are so often busy with political things, and of course with this whole Cult of the Absolute mess they are even busier than busy lately, which does leave me much time to do things like planning social events. But only if you’re interested, of course!!!!!
Please respond with haste! As mentioned above, Majra’s extremely busy all the time, so I’d like to give her as much notice as possible so as to ensure she will be present! And her friends, of course.
With all the loving affection that my heart contains,
Marigold Cathryn Sashenstar
Astarion peered over her shoulder. “Oh, this is hilarious. Rosalie, you didn’t tell me you knew an Upper City princess!”
“I—it’s—” Defensiveness on Marigold’s behalf was at war with how deeply fucking stupid Marigold was being. “She’s Blaze Sashenstar’s daughter. I thought she’d be a useful avenue to gather intelligence, back before I knew how much Blaze Sashenstar keeps her in the dark. Look, she’s not—she’s not a bad person, she’s just…overzealous.”
“That’s a very nice way of saying bad at literally everything.” Astarion’s eyes were sparkling with mirth. “Exactly how many times has she offered to assist you in a secret-political-whatever-you-do capacity? Does she even know that you’re a Harper?”
Roslin pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, she doesn’t, and because of that, she also doesn’t know that I don’t have time to deal with an influx of Upper City party invitations.”
Jaheira snorted. “Now you are a true hero of the realm.”
“Oh, ha ha, Jaheira. Help me deal with this.”
“Is it possible that you finally want my help?” Jaheira seemed to be enjoying herself immensely. “After years of my offering it, and years of you refusing to take it?”
“I almost got blown up, Jaheira, for fuck’s sake—”
“Marigold wants to help, doesn’t she?” offered Astarion. “Well, why not send her on a stupid little mission? If you need her distracted, that’ll keep her more than busy, and it’ll keep us from having to deal with Upper City couriers.”
“You didn’t have to deal with Upper City couriers, Astarion,” Wyll reminded him.
“Yes, because I was busy almost getting killed by fireworks—”
“That you set off!”
Roslin dared a small, approving glance at Astarion, who of course wasn’t paying any attention. He always did seem to have the first half of a good idea—and, as ever, it’d be on her to come up with the rest.
Heya Mari,
Political nonsense has been keeping me really busy, I’m so sorry! I know how much you love hosting little gatherings. I promise I’d be there if I could.
I’m sure it’s hard to feel so out of the loop. If it helps at all, I might actually have a favor to ask you.
Roslin’s quill paused over the paper. This did feel a little mean, now that she was really thinking about it. Marigold was a sweet kid with good intentions whose only real crime was being sort of relentlessly annoying—
Inspiration struck. Her quill flew.
There’s a friend of mine entering the city, name of Rolan. He’s got papers, but his siblings don’t. Could you see to it that the three of them get safely through? Make sure that they’re doing all right? I’d try and get more of the refugees through, but with the gates locked as tightly as they are, it’s a long shot getting his siblings through without someone on the inside. You’d be doing a huge favor to me and to them.
Probably don’t mention to Majra that you’re doing this, though. She tends to get a bit twitchy about my job. I know you don’t know what it is, but she does, and she’ll think Rolan and his siblings are involved in “political things.” I promise they’re not.
Thanks, bun-bun. Lots of love,
Roslin
It wasn’t going to be the world’s most fun job for Marigold, but she’d actually do some good if she did manage to succeed. And trying to get Rolan to put up with her high-energy rich-girl nonsense long enough to get through the checkpoint might very well keep Marigold busy through the entire Crisis of the Absolute—or at least long enough for her Flaming Fist guardian to spirit her away to safety when the shit hit the fan.
Rolan—well, she’d feel bad about inflicting Marigold on him if not for the fact that she was also inflicting him on Marigold. Sort of canceled things out, really. Maybe it’d calm them both down a bit—a safe way to work out some of that aggression that both of them were carrying around.
Problem solved, thought Roslin, and rolled up the message, readying it to be sent. If nothing else, she was very good at keeping kids busy.