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For once the bard was home fairly early, only two hours after sunset in a winter night. He smiled, when he found a bowl of stew over the fireplace. “You know, I was actually quite hungry,” he greeted Astarion.
Astarion managed a smile. “And for once I do not need to warm the stew up for you.”
“I might be gone for most of the night tomorrow though,” Tav replied.
“Of course, you are.” Unable to suppress a sigh, Astarion got two wooden bowls. “Who are you saving this time?”
Silence followed. A silence that told him, that he might not quite like what the answer was. Because usually his dear bard was all-too willing to tell him all about his newest adventures – about the newest damsel in duress so to speak.
Astarion shot the man a look, before filling some of the stew into one of the wooden bowls. Only when he handed it to Tav he could not hold back a snarky remark: “Oh, let me guess. We are saving some villains tomorrow? Maybe some bhaalist cult member who deserves second chance?”
The comment got Tav to sigh. “No. No bhaalist people.” He took the bowl and the spoon, before sighing once more. “Actually… There have been problems with the Gur.”
“Oh, no big surprise there,” Astarion said, earning himself another one of Tav’s stares.
“Not like that,” Tav said. “No. There is a caravan of Gur wintering by the outer city and there had been attacks on them. Two are dead as of last night. And we… Well, we promised we will look into it.”
Astarion looked at him – Tav, who would always help everyone – not sure, what to even say to that. After all, it was the Gur who had gotten him put into all the misery he had gone through. Had they not stabbed him on that day… Well, Cazador would not have gotten to him and things would have turned out differently.
For a long moment the bard’s gaze was still on him, but in the end Tav ate. One spoon first, then a second. “This is really good. Well, better than what I can whip up at the very least.”
“My dear sweet idiot, that is not very hard,” Astarion replied. “I really do wonder at times, how you managed to survive on your own as long as you did.”
“Easy.” Tav smiled. “I was not on my own.”
Astarion sighed. “Of course, you were not,” he muttered. Because this man never was, was he? He never was on his own, because he made friends as easily, as other people breathed. And, well… What could Astarion say? It really was so darn hard to dislike this man.
Eating himself, Astarion was silent for a while. He really had not thought that one day he would have to learn to cook – but somebody had to. While Astarion did not need to eat food, Tav most certainly had to. And knowing this horrible man for half a year now, Astarion was fairly certain, that the man would forget to eat, if nobody took care of it for him.
Only after a while Tav broke the silence again. “You really do not remember it, right?”
“Remember what?” Astarion raised his eyebrow.
“Why the Gur killed you back then.”
Astarion pressed his lips into a thin line. He would love to blame those useless self-proclaimed monster hunters. But he knew at least one truth: “Well, it probably wasn’t because I was such a nice person.”
Tav considered this for a moment. “I guess.”
***
It was as Tav had said. While he and his silly bard-friends took turns with watching out for that Gur camp, there were three nights during the following week in which he did only come home close to sunrise, after the gates had opened again.
Astarion hated it. He hated to be alone, because whenever he was, his mind would play even more tricks on him. He would hear Cazador’s whispers, could at times even see and feel his dead master, no matter how often he reminded himself that Cazador was well and truly dead. He tried to distract himself by spending the nights outside – because other than in the days he was able to stalk the city at night. It was the one thing winter was good for. The long nights, that allowed him to enjoy the dark. Well, maybe “enjoy” wasn’t the right word. But at least he was able to leave.
It was nine days after this entire thing had started, that once again Tav returned fairly early. The sleepless nights were clearly showing on his face. He was pale and there were rings under his eyes. But still he seemed content, if not outright happy.
“You know you are lucky, right?” Astarion asked. “If you came back later, you might not have met me here and that would have most certainly ruined your night.”
“That’s why I return now,” Tav replied. “Well, that and because we found the culprits.”
“Oh, you did?” Astarion reminded himself to not be too impressed. “Of course, you did. So, who was it?”
“Ah, two sons of lower nobility. We… We will see whether anything is going to stick. But we turned them over to the Fists. That’s all we can do for now.”
“Tav, my sweet. You know there are more permanent solutions to problems, right?”
Tav shrugged. “They were still young. They might still learn.” Then he pursed his lips for a moment. “But I wanted to ask you to come along now.”
“Along to what?”
“I… You do want to know what happened back then, don’t you? Why… Why you died, I mean.”
Astarion could feel a twinge in his heart at the thought. “You didn’t ask them, did you?”
At this, Tav sighed and took his hand. “I did. And there are some, who know. And… And I thought you might want to talk to them.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you want to know, right? And… If you talk to them, you can learn.”
Astarion did not really know what to reply to that. He wanted to know, but at the same time, he did not. He was not a nice person. He knew, he had never been. And no matter the amount of spite he tried to hide it behind, he also knew that the Gur probably had had a reason. It had not been a random attack. That much he remembered.
Tav wanted to see the good in him. And at times it was almost infectious. At times he almost wanted to see it, too. He was not really sure whether this idealism could really withstand the bitterness of reality.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because I know the question is bothering you,” Tav replied. “And because we have this opportunity now.”
What was one to say? Other than the truth: He was afraid. He was afraid of what he might learn. But in the end it would probably not make any difference. Because Tav had proven time and time again, that he would look past any past misdeeds of Astarion’s. And Astarion himself? Would it matter to him?
He sighed. “Fine. Sure.” Because Tav was not wrong. He wanted to know. He wanted to learn more about that past-self of his that had existed before Cazador had found him bleeding out on that street.
This got Tav to smile. “Great.”
And so, while Astarion hated the outlook of having to deal with Gur – or people in general – he accompanied his silly bard out of their home and out of the lower city. The city gates would be open to around midnight, so hopefully they would make it back before that.
Just as Tav had said, they found a caravan camping on the shore of the Chionthar. Given it was Gur, there were to many children here for Astarion’s liking. He stopped counting at twenty of them, because these people did know little aside from procreation. There were also gazes following him. Gazes of the sort he didn’t like. Openly hostile. Instinctively his hand was on the hilt of his knife, but it was Tav who gently touched Astarion’s wrist, shaking his head.
“Tav!” This woman Astarion had met before. A human called Janeir. One of those silly bardic friends of Tav’s. She was sitting at the fire, talking to an older man, with five other Gur sitting around them.
“We are back.” Tav was smiling, going over to them.
While it was winter, it had not snowed a lot this year so far. Still, the Gur had little stools of wood and leather on which they were sitting. And Janeir had clearly left two for the two of them to join.
“You are back, Avariel,” one of the younger Gur sitting at the fire got up. “And you really brought… him.”
Astarion did not like the way the man spat out the word. “Well, that is a lovely welcome!”
“Don’t mind her too much,” Tav whispered, gently guiding him towards the fire. He smiled at the people. Such an easy smile. Then he took the stool next to Janeir, waiting for Astarion to join them as well.
Oh, Astarion for sure did not like this. He felt vulnerable and if he did not like one thing it was feeling vulnerable. Still, he was already here, and fleeing the scene would be akin to admitting defeat of sorts. So, he sat down next to his own silly bard, though he did so rather tense.
There was a big metal pot over the flames of the rather large fire, with some sort of stew bubbling inside of it.
“Well,” Janeir said, “there were plans of making some stick bread, I heard. And I admit I do feel hungry.”
“And that even though Tobin is cooking for you at home,” Tav teased.
“Oh, you know the rules as well as I do, Tav.”
That got the man to grin. “Never say no to free food.”
They were both laughing, as even some of the Gur were smiling at this. Only some, though, with the others still shooting Astarion those dark looks.
Of course Tav noticed, as he cleared his throat. “Well, I assume some of you do… do know him already. But this is Astarion. My partner. I… I told you I would bring him.”
One of the Gur woman, who was leaning against one of the wagons, clicked her tongue. “Really, Avariel. I do gotta wonder, how someone sweet as you would end up with someone like him out of all people.”
Tav met the woman’s gaze. “Because even though you do not believe me, this man can be quite sweet as well. He quite literally helped save the realm.”
“Forgive Magret’s attitude,” the old man said. “But you cannot spite us for finding those stories rather hard to believe.”
“It is the truth,” Tav replied, looking this man right into the eyes as well. “I swear to you he is a good man.”
A part of Astarion wanted to disagree with this as well, but he had at least enough tact to know that this might not be the right moment for that. Still, it was hard for him to meet the grey eyes of the old man with the same ease as Tav did.
“I do want to take you by your word, Avariel,” the old man muttered. “But our tribes have… a good two hundred years of history with him and his ilk.”
“And that history he does not remember.” Tav offered his hand to Astarion almost subconsciously. “That’s why he came.”
There was a silence that lasted at least three seconds, before Janeir spoke up. “How about we all have a good meal, first. Then we talk about the serious things. Because my auntie always said, to not have those conversations on an empty stomach. And I for one agree.”
Tav smiled. “You are probably right.”
Soon enough there were sticks with the ends covered in dough around the fireplace, slowly browning over the open flames.
It was strange. Astarion had learned to make easy conversation as he was serving Cazador. Yet, for him it had always been a mask. To be charming had not been exactly natural for him. Or maybe it once had been – but if, it had been before Cazador had gotten to him, before Cazador had torn him apart and put him back together at least a hundred times. Now he could just sit here and marvel how easy it came to Tav. To talk with the people. To joke. To laugh. Janeir was not much different, either. But maybe it was just part of the bardic profession.
“Be careful,” Tav said, leaning over to him. “Your bread is burning.”
“Well, it is not as if I need to eat.” Astarion lowered his voice. “And quite frankly, this is no way…”
“Oh, you just gotta try it,” Tav replied. “This really is the best.”
Just a few minutes later Astarion was forced to admit that… it indeed was not bad. It was a rather uncivilized way of making bread but… it had a nice smokiness to it, that paired rather well with the rather well with the spicy stew.
He had never eaten any of the Gur food, that much he was certain off. And frankly, he also was not quite certain of the origin of the meat within the stew.
As he listened to the bards and the Gur talking, he learned that the old man was called Jesaja, with the other five around the fire having the names of Robin, Perceval, Reid, Anya and Jadinka. He didn’t say much on his own, because there were only two kinds of words he would have. Those that would be hated and those he would hate.
But in the end, as most of them had finished their bread and bowls, Tav brought the conversation back to his entire dilemma.
“Well, you know the reason why I brought Astarion,” he said. “We… We do know there was a reason why your people stabbed him those two hundred years ago. We do know that. But he does not remember. He does not remember much from before being turned into… well, a vampire spawn.”
Astarion could feel himself tense at these words. While it was the truth, he hated that those people would know about it. That they knew anything about him, for that matter.
“It is fairly simple,” Jesaja said. “He was very much a son of his family.”
“How do you even know?” Astarion asked. “You are maybe old, but you were not alive back then.”
“But my grandfather was,” Jesaja said. “He was among those who made the decision. And we tell our families’ stories. To not forget.”
“And he has even forgotten his own story,” Anya muttered.
This got Tav to look at her sternly. “It is not his fault. Look, whatever it was he did back then, he had to pay for it a thousand-fold.”
Astarion hated that it was a silly human to defend him like that. “Well, if you know that story,” he just said, “please, enlighten me.”
Jesaja’s grey eyes met his. “It is fairly simple. Your family were high elf nobility. And as such we had run into problems with them again and again. Our people and the high elves tend to not get along, do we?”
Astarion scoffed. “That is hardly my fault, is it?”
“I agree,” Jesaja said. “Your family’s sins are not your own. But you did quite a lot yourself. Is there anything you do remember?”
Astarion hesitated a long moment. “I remember being a magistrate. Being a very young magistrate at that.”
“Yes,” Jesaja said. “And as such you were supposed to be just, weren’t you?”
Astarion did not answer.
“You were not. You had your prejudices – and this idea that only harsh punishment would right wrongs.” Jesaja shook his head, muttering something in the language of the Gur. “Mind you, we were not the only ones you targeted. A few years before there had been the guildwars in Waterdeep with an assortment of refugees making their way to Baldur’s Gate. And to them you were as unkind as you were to us. Whenever one of those stood accused, you were easy to take the accuser’s side. Doubly so when it was one of your own kind.”
“And that was reason for killing me?” Astarion could not help but sound appalled.
“Before our ancestors made the pact to kill you, you had five of them sentenced to death,” Jesaja said. “For a crime they did not commit.”
That was what all criminals would say. That they had not committed the crime. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” Jesaja did finally avert his gaze as someone handed him a smaller bowl filled with tea.
“What was the crime they stood accused of?” Tav asked.
“They were accused of murder,” Jesaja muttered. “Of a murder, mind you, whose victims turned up alive weeks after.”
“Well, as your ancestors have so kindly shown in my own death, it is not as if you people stand above murder, do you?”
“They righted a wrong,” Robin said. “That was all they did.”
“Oh yes, righting a wrong by fucking killing me?” Astarion growled. “By leaving me for Cazador to find?” He had not even noticed that he had gotten up, until Tav gently pulled him down onto the stool again. “At least they could have done the job properly and actually killed me, instead of leaving me there on the road to die!”
“I can promise you one thing.” Other than Astarion, Jesaja was very much in control of his voice. “Our ancestors did not know you lived. We only found out that Cazador had turned you a good twenty years later. We had been hunting Cazador for years before.”
“And yet you were utterly useless in killing him, weren’t you?”
Once more there was Tav’s hand, gently touching his wrist. The man did not take it, just put his hand onto it. “Astarion.”
Oh, he knew that voice. Astarion knew that tone too well. Trying him to calm down, trying to anker him into the present. But the fact remained: “You have no clue what he did to me! You have no clue…”
“We do know that Cazador Szarr was a cruel man,” Jesaja said. “Maybe not much crueler than others of your kind, but cruel never the less. As such we can imagine the things he might have put you through.” He took a deep breath. When he exhaled his breath condensed into clouds in front of his mouth. “And you are right, you might have deserved death – but not what he brought to you.”
“How dare you…” Already Astarion wanted to get up again, but once more it was Tav who tried his best.
“Astarion. Calm down. Please. It was not them who left you to die, it was… Well, it was two hundred years ago.”
“And yet, here I am,” Astarion muttered bitterly.
Tav sighed. He turned his hand palm up to offer it to Astarion.
Oh, how much Astarion hated this. Because right now he felt angry with this man. And yet… Feeling the warm hand against his own was still good.
“What happened to those condemned to death?” Tav asked.
“They died. Hanged,” Jesaja said and sighed. “From those who actually carried out the deed in the name of our revenge, two died, one managed to flee.”
“Good riddance,” Astarion muttered.
He could almost feel the old man’s eyes on himself, though for once he just did not want to meet them. Instead he looked at Tav’s hand. At those discolored finger tips.
“Avariel is a good man,” Jesaja finally said. “He and his people have been kind to us and ours in the past – and they had just done a great deed for us. As such I am willing to believe him that you have turned up a new leaf in the end, that you seek redemption.”
Astarion did not answer. Because he did not want redemption, did he now?
“But if you have really forgotten, just know that you have been a villain not just in your undeath, but in life, too.”
“What is that even supposed to mean?” Astarion muttered.
“That redemption is not easy,” Jesaja answered. “Not that anything ever is.”
Tav sighed, as he pressed Astarion’s hand. “With all due respect. I think, before anything… He needs to heal. No matter what he has done in the past, he deserves to heal.”
Astarion looked into the flames, as he whispered bitterly: “And even that is not easy, is it?”