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She didn’t want revenge, she didn’t even want sympathy. Not really. All she really wanted was to be free again. To feel the sun on her skin, the wind in her hair, and the water at her feet. But all of those things had been ripped away from Lucie.
The night Astarion turned her 11 years ago, Lucie lost all of those things. Now, she was merely a doll for him to play with.
She was resigned to the Ancunin Manor, as it was renamed, with chamber maids waiting on her whenever she needed. She wore pretty dresses to fancy balls and had lavish dinners with some of Baldur’s Gate’s highest society. She had closets of clothes, servants to dote on her, a sprawling library to waste her time in, and even an indoor greenhouse that she could only really tend to at night.
She was even able to see her friends and old companions when she wanted to. Karlach and Wyll would visit once a year from Avernus, Shadowheart would come to have wine and gossip every so often, and even Gale would visit every few years to check in from Waterdeep.
She shouldn’t complain.
Astarion loved Lucie, he really did. Sure, he’d changed after the ascension, but he still cared for her. He was always gentle with her, made sure she knew she was beautiful, and never pushed her for anything, especially sex. But there was one thing he would never give her.
His blood.
Eleven years have passed since he promised her everything. Immortality, eternity. But he still hasn’t stayed true to his word and made her just like him. She’s not entirely sure why, either. She used to ask him once a tenday when he would let her drink from him, but eventually, he stopped answering her altogether.
Now, he was barely ever home.
He was one of the four counselors of Baldur’s Gate and he was always busy working in the office. It’s what he had dreamed of, what he always wanted. Power over the people. Power over her.
All Lucie really wanted was to see the sun again. She told him that much just last night. She begged him to please make her a true vampire like he is. He argued, said that she would never be like him, he was ascended . He didn’t want to risk her getting hurt. That was always his answer, it seemed. She cried and pleaded, all she wanted was the sun. Please, Astarion. This isn’t the life you promised. It’s been eleven years.
But once again, he denied her.
Now she sat alone in their chambers, on the lush four-post bed with satin royal blue sheets. There was one large window against the westernmost wall, covered in heavy blue velvet drapes. Astarion could watch the sunset over Baldur’s Gate from that window, but not her. Never her.
Lucie longed to watch the sunset, just one more time.
Astarion wasn’t home. He wouldn’t even know, right? Just a peak. Lucie knew it was just about sunset, and if he wasn’t going to give her any more, she wanted to steal one. Just one more time.
Slowly, she approached the drapes, hand trailing along the soft fabric for a moment. If her heart still beat it would be racing at the possibility of seeing the sun again. She smiled to herself, a sad smile remembering all the sunsets she watched with Astarion and Shadowheart, her closest confidant. She wondered briefly where Shadowheart might be right at that moment. Probably at a tavern with her wife. Lucie smiled at the thought.
Without too much more debating, Lucie grabbed the edge of the heavy curtain and gently pulled it to the side.
For a moment, it was the most beautiful thing Lucie had ever seen. Until it hurts.
Lucie fell to her knees, staring out the large window and she smiled. Her skin was burning and turning to ash. She could taste it in her mouth. But she didn’t care. Tears streamed down her face as she watched the sunset over the gate, purples and blues blending into hot oranges and pinks. This was her favourite time of day when she was alive.
Lucie choked on the ash, more tears streaming down her cheeks. She laughed. It’s ironic that the thing Astarion missed most in his undeath was what would steal her from hers.
She smiled and let her eyes close as the sun took her.
The last thing she heard as the sun passed over the high walls of her home, was the large mahogany doors to their chambers slam open and her lover's cracked and pleading voice screaming her name.
And then she was gone.