Chapter Text
“I longed to be able to accept it, and I do not say I have not tried: Love won.” OVID, METAMORPHOSES 10
Pain.
Sharp, searing, agonizing pain. That is the last thing he could remember.
It was the feeling of a hand, soft and gentle that brought him back from the darkness. Astarion’s eyes flutter open at the touch. However, it isn’t the darkened streets of Baldur’s Gate he was met with, but a vast, gray nothingness. A cold, bleak nothingness, stretching on for eternity. The only spot of light, a creature so winsome and radiant it almost hurt to look at her. Her wild curls, loose and tousled over her freckled shoulders. Rose-violet eyes glittering with adoration as she brushed the hair from his sweat-laden brow.
A woeful sight slid past her soft, pink lip, “You are staring at me as if I am a stranger.”
He began to open his mouth to speak. To insist to this odd woman that they were, in fact, total strangers. But, the words died in his throat. Astarion pinched the space between his brow softly between his thumb and index finger. His skull felt noisy, overcrowded with things long forgotten.
“Despoena...”
Comforting and familiar, like a song still remembered despite having not heard it in centuries. For so long, she had been nothing but a memory, hazy and undefined. A dissonant assortment of clouded memories coming into tune with her delicate touch. For so long, she had remained elusive and unreachable. He had been unknowingly searching for her for centuries. In each and every lifetime, seeking something he could not name. He had scoured the forests of Arvandor during those all too short reprieves granted between each mortal experience. Yet, she had remained lost to him.
“I felt it. That creature laying its claim to your soul.” She said in a small, far-away voice, “But, all is not lost. I petitioned Lord Corellon and Lady Sehanine.”
His heart sank as he realized the gravity of her words. His thoughts flashing back to the filth ally. The assailants. The blood. All that blood. And Cazador, elegant and silver-tongued, promising him life everlasting.
His brow arched as he spoke, the corner of his lips twitching into a subtle smile, “You pestered the two most important elven gods? For me?”
“Must you sound so shocked?” Her tone was scolding but the look in her eyes remained kind. Speaking with the steadfast devotion only she could muster. She drew in a heavy breath before continuing, “He was... a bit displeased. But, even so, he and the Lunar Lady heard my plea.”
So she had been hidden away in the heart of Arvandor all that time. Despoena was always fiercely loyal to Corellon. One of the few to refuse the assumption of a fixed form. Even before the betrayal, Despoena, though not quite so much as those who would become the Seldarine, had been among Corellon’s favorite children. It was likely that very fondness that had allowed her an audience with a god, who so rarely suffered the presence of those he viewed as wayward, short-sighted children.
“Corellon was hesitant but Sehanine posed a bargain he found agreeable. She suggested I act as psychopomp, joining you on your journey through the Fugue Plane.” She heisted before continuing, her breath catching in her throat, “However, there is a condition. You must lead the way home, never looking back. If you accomplish this task, Lord Corellon will allow you to enter Crescent Grove to be cleansed of the undead taint”
A dark chuckle left Astarions chest, his eyes rolling as he spoke, “And if I turn around?”
“You will return to the Material, to walk the path of night. Forever barred from Arvandor.”
Ah, there it was.
In each bargain, contract or ruling, there was always some sort of qualification. Enshrouded opportunities, just waiting to be exploited by their creators. However, if one was clever enough the very same caveats could be twisted into their favor instead. He’d grow quite adept at doing so while serving as a magistrate. Normally, he’d have a few weeks of discovery, a heap of legal precedent, and the assists of whatever thick-witted, wealthy twat he was representing. This time, it seemed he’d just have to get by on his own.
With a huff, he began searching through the jumble of memories that had taken up residence in his head, in an attempt to make sense of the Gods’ peculiar stipulation. He had not been all that committed to elven traditions in this lifetime. In his youth, he’d kept the major holidays and prayed only when it suited him. However, it has been a good century or more since he’d done even that. In truth, he had always carried a sense of subtle surety that he’d never been a particularly resolute follower of those deities he had once called kin.
Though it had been Corellon who had officially struck the bargain, it had been his dear Lunar Lady, who posed it. He supposed it was a blessing this offer had come from one of the deities he was more familiar with. Sehanine Moonbow had become consort to Corellon following Lolth’s betrayal. Goddess of not only the moon but of dreams and journeys. Protector of the lost and guide to the dead, whom the elves implored guidance from during times of transition and uncertainty.
By convincing Corellon to even let Despoena try, she allowed an interloper power within her own domain. If they did succeed, there was a distinct possibility that others would begin to expect exceptions. So why permit it?
“They allowed you to try because they assume we will fail.”
Despoena responded with a scoff, shooing away his assertion with a wave of her hand, “When did you become so cynical?”
“I’m not being cynical.” He said, voice flat and sullen, “I’m being logical and thinking critically about my situation. How can you be so sure there isn’t more to this?”
“I have faith. Not only in the word of the Gods and my own resolve.” Her mouth curved up into a timid smile, “Most importantly I have unyielding and bottomless faith in you.”
“Is that so?” He tried to present himself as confident and unshaken his voice came out, thick with emotion.
Despoena nodded, tears beginning to drip from the corners of her loving, doe eyes. Her arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him into a firm embrace. Her shaky breath tickled at his collarbones as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. The skin of her freckled cheeks warm and damp against his fluttering pulse.
“We’ve been separated for countless ages…” He mumbled against the crown of her head, his fingers idly running through her hair, “ The person you have such faith in- I don’t know that I am that person anymore. I know that isn’t what you want to hear but it’s the truth.”
His gut twisted with guilt as her small hands clutched at the fabric of his shirt. Despite the years and the distance, Astarion still felt a heaviness in his chest stir in response to her distress.
“I know it’s been a very long time, but you are still my Aidon.” She replied, her words softly muffled against his throat, her breath tickling his skin as she spoke, “Of course, you are different now. You’ve gotten to experience new joys, develop new passions! I would hardly call that a bad thing. I would think it quite the privilege to acquaint myself with the person you’ve become.”
“There are things I’ve done I know you would revile, for prestige and privilege. What if I agree to Corellon’s bargain and return with you. Then one day you find you rather despise the person I’ve become? You are asking me to wager a guarantee of eternity and power against blind faith and the chance we might still enjoy each other’s company. ”
“We came into this existence, fluid and ever-changing, with the power to define who we want to be. I won’t pretend there aren’t things I would struggle to pardon. However, I’ll never stop believing that we are what we chose to be.”
Her hands, soft and strong, took up his own, giving them a steadfast squeeze. Astarion felt himself being engulfed by the bubbly warmth of her adoration. It was borderline intoxicating, being in the presence of her unconditional affection. For the first time in a very, very long time, Astarion felt truly known. That sort of fathomless, unwrought emotional connection was exceedingly uncommon in the material plane and gods, was it terrifying. Frightening as it was, there was comfort in being seen and felt in such a deep, intimate way. A reassurance that despite everything there was someone who would always be on his side.
“I can’t absolve you of your misdeed or promise the task before us will be easy, but I think you deserve a chance to try to be the person I know you are underneath it all. I couldn’t live with myself if I let you surrender yourself to the path of night without putting up a fight!”
A low chuckle rolled through his chest as he pressed her tensed knuckles to his lips, “I might be different but you, My avae’ess, are the same as you’ve always been. Spirited and too optimistic for your own good. Very well, I accept the Gods’ bargain and their terms. I still suspect it can’t be as simple as it sounds, I am willing to try. For you.”