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It wasn’t difficult to convince the party to stop and visit the magnificent castle. The grounds were a flurry of excitement. It had recently changed hands, and the new occupants have rather different tastes than the old.
Many things inside were up for sale, and, oh, it’s just a perfect opportunity, they tell them. We might be able to acquire useful magical items, or at least get a sense of the new owners’ fashions and sensibilities. It never hurts to have more allies. Let’s stop by.
Astarion and Tav had another goal entirely. Once, more than a century ago, Astarion had visited the castle and had been enraptured by a small painting displayed there. The Sibylle of Cleves - a noble half-elf woman, enshrined in a painting hardly larger than the palm of a hand. A beautiful work, gloriously detailed.
He’d been disallowed from stealing it then, but now the rules had changed. He’d mentioned the story to Tav when the castle came into view, and she’d decided quickly they had to go. They had to have it. They had to prove they could , if only to themselves.
They parted with their companions at the castle entrance, and Tav let Astarion take her hand and guide her up the castle’s narrow staircase to where he had last seen the Sibylle . They brushed past a number of people on the way, looking through the magnificent things for sale, and Tav’s hand tightened on Astarion’s. It was a wordless communication- this is dangerous. More than we expected .
His hand squeezed hers briefly. A reply. Let’s just see.
The upper-story room was crowded. The pair ambled casually through, bumping shoulders with people carrying more gold than the party had combined. Tav kept her fingers wrapped tightly around Astarion’s, and in turn he kept his out of the bystanders’ pockets.
Tav noted the guard in the corner. Astarion noted the thin glass dome over the painting, propped up on a small easel. A few seconds, or less, and he could have the dome off and the painting in his pocket. He’d just need a break in the crowd-
Tav angled herself between him and the painting, not releasing his hand. She pushed him along. Too many people. Wait.
He redirected them to a different upper-level room. Later.
The couple drifted through the castle, feigning interest in the other things being sold. They passed by Wyll and Karlach admiring a battle-axe, and Gale and Shadowheart trading off on giving Lae’zal a lecture on the history and religious significance of a large stone statue.
The shadows lengthened as the sun dipped towards the horizon, and Astarion gently pulled Tav back towards the crown jewel they’d come for. She let herself be pulled along eagerly.
The time they’d spent away had worked in their favor. The guard was less alert, more comfortable with the comings and goings of the visitors, now more goings than comings.
A quick glance around told Tav that no eyes were on the Sibylle . She released Astarion’s hand- go on. Now.
He didn’t wait a moment, smoothly pouncing on the painting. The glass dome went up, the painting came out, and the easel clattered down to the table.
It felt loud. So, so loud.
Astarion set the dome down gently and slipped the painting inside his jacket. There was no way to explain it. They were surely caught.
He turned around, slowly, deliberately, and found no searching eyes on him, save for Tav’s. She stood by the doorway nearest the stairs and inclined her head towards them- come on. Now.
Astarion strode across the room to join her. No one stopped them. It felt impossible. Surely someone had heard. Surely by now they had seen the absence of the beautiful little painting.
Tav walked a pace ahead of him, calm and impassive. Either we will be caught, or we won’t.
He followed her down as silently as she had followed him up.
They met the others at the castle entrance, Shadowheart showing off her new glaive and Karlach sighing wistfully after the battle-axe she’d not bought. Gale asked if they’d bought anything, and Tav shook her head. Astarion sighed and made an off-handed remark about how pitiful the selection was, nothing worth leaving with at all.
When the group turned to move on, he flashed a rakish smile to Tav. You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve stolen.
She rolled her eyes. Don’t flatter me, I saw you look at it.
His grin widened, overcome with the joy of the capture and the thrill of the escape. It almost felt like his undead heart was beating again. We did it.
The feeling was infectious, and Tav grinned in return.
We did.