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This was awful.
As you descended the disgustingly opulent stairs into the bustling ballroom, you scowled. This silk and satin aesthetic may suit others, but it did not suit you.
Your equally disgustingly opulent necklace sat heavy against your neck, and the fabric of your dress bunched up unevenly atop your curves.
You flattened it, hoping to appear smaller, to no avail. You felt much like the chandelier hanging above your heads. Glittering and shiny, and taking up much more space than you preferred. Astarion had picked out the dress for you, and he was very thorough in his vetting, but there was only so much to be done mere days before the ball.
There was no music playing, and no dancers on the ballroom floor. This surprised you. This ball seemed to be more for socializing, rather than for appearances. That was just fine for you. You already looked like a fool physically, you really didn't want to embarrass anyone with your subpar footwork.
Astarion, arm looped through yours, squeezed you as you reached the bottom of the stairs. “Are you alright my dear?”
You looked up at him and smiled. He was wearing a golden lion-shaped mask that accented his eyes perfectly. He was adorned with gold earrings and cufflinks, and his dark blue suit was also trimmed with gold, much like your own dress. You two matched perfectly, but he looked much more…appropriate. His lithe looks were suited to such frippery.
“I'm fine.” You squeezed his arm reassuringly. Then your voice became a whisper. “Do you remember Jaheira's plan?”
Astarion nodded subtly, letting go of your arm as you reached the bottom of the stairs. “Yes. Mingle so we seem less suspicious, then you create a distraction so I can sneak through the manor and find the ring before the black market begins in…” he glanced at a giant clock face engraved in the wooden detailing of one of the walls. “Four hours.”
This was a delicate operation and every aspect had to go just right. Jaheira and the Harpers were relying on you, after all.
This had all started a week ago. Jaheira had come to your house in the lower city seeking your help. She and her Harpers had discovered a black market operation happening at the Sainsbury Manor.
Most of the relics were nothing but religious garbage or simple enchantments. But among the items was a ring worn by a Sharran Dark Justiciar who had been an absolute Menace in his time. His ring was enchanted with a magic similar to the Shadowlands Curse from Ketheric Thorm. It would spread a withering blight in a 2 mile radius if activated.
Jaheira had deemed it ‘too dangerous’ to be in the hands of any noble, much less one that would frequent a black market. Alas, Jaheira did not have an ‘in’ with the nobles.
You were confused what this had to do with you, but it turned out Jaheira had gone digging. She had discovered your past you had so shamefully tried to hide from everyone but Astarion.
You were a noble by birth. The youngest daughter of the Moliira’s, a semi powerful lordship in Baldurs Gate. Nothing to sneeze at, but not that impressive either. The last contact you had with them was during the restoration of the Gate, and you had been relieved none of them had been killed by Gortash. But they were not really people you wanted to be close with again. You had run away for a reason, after all.
You were furious at Jaheira for digging through old bones, but Astarion had perked up at the mention of a ball.
Then, he had looked at you with those puppy-dog eyes. He knew those were the way to get whatever he wanted. So you caved, and agreed to get in contact with your family to obtain two invitations to the party at Sainsbury Manor.
That's how you ended up here, in a gown that was complimentary, but ultimately not made for you. It was better than what your parents would have dressed you in, though. They had a knack when you were younger of attempting to ignore your size, and dressed you in trendy, but unflattering dresses, In the worst, most garish colors imaginable.
No, this dress made you feel less like a mockery. Astarion had spent the few days you had before the ball picking through the limited stock of larger dresses at Figaro's, finally settling on this one. It was a deep blue, though not quite the shade of his suit, and speckled With gold stars that got more dense the lower the skirt went. It had a gold-trimmed square neckline, and the skirt swept the floor as you walked. The sleeves were long and loose, with gold cuffs at the wrist.
It had made you feel elegant, standing in front of just Astarion and Figaro at the dress Shop, but now…. in this sea of nobles, you felt the size of a barge.
Astarion pinched your elbow discreetly. “Are you sure you're okay? You feel a million miles away.” He said, his tone nervous.
He knew of your past. In the four years since the tadpole incident, you had filled him in extensively. You always thought you were blessed. After all, if you hadn't run away that night, fed up with the trappings of noble life, you would have never been abducted by the mindflayers. In turn, you would have never met Astarion, the light of your life.
He had supported you all these years since then, even though he had given up being in the sun for you. He never blamed you either, though you blamed yourself.
From the start he had never treated you as lesser than the rest of your allies. If anything, he made you strong and proud of yourself. He lifted you up.
Whether it was your background, your insecurities, or your traumas, he never cared.
“I'm fine.” You sighed. Your mask felt suffocating and itchy against your cheeks. You wanted to rip it off, but that wouldn't be a good idea. You needed to ensure no one knew who you were for this plan to work. In and out as quickly as possible. “I just need some refreshment and I'll be right as rain. Go, mingle, have fun like you wanted.” You leaned up to kiss his cheek.
He looked like he didn't believe you, but looked out at the crowd anyway. “If you're sure. But I'm just a step away, darling.” He parted from you and disappeared into the crowd.
Suddenly alone, you felt even bigger than before. You adjusted your gloves carefully.
There was still no music as you weaved through the crowd towards the refreshments table. You wondered again why, but it didn't really bother you. If anything, you were thankful for the lack of noise as you were lost in your thoughts.
The savory food was on one end of the table, and desserts and champagne were on the other. You were Immediately drawn to the savory food end, hoping for there to be some biscuits or cured meats and cheeses.
When you reached it, however, you were immediately overwhelmed by the cacophony of smells emanating from the table, none of them good. It was overpowering your senses. It smelled of bad things, dead fish, strong asparagus, and mold-aged cheese. You stepped back from the table, bumping into a noble, who you thoroughly apologized to. The savory table was clearly not for you.
You moved down towards the sweet end. They were serving an appetizing array of hand-held sweets. You picked up a cookie and bit into it.
Your face scrunched up in dismay as your senses were flooded with a texture you did not like. You carefully pulled out your handkerchief and spat out the offending cookie into it. Only champagne for the evening it was. You knew it would be a safe bet as it was a liquid.
As you filled your glass at the champagne fountain, you spared a glance around the ballroom. You still needed to find a distraction of some sorts. The difficult part was that it had to be distracting, but not too distracting. You couldn't risk your identity being exposed or being kicked out of the ball before Astarion had reached the storeroom. As a bard, it normally was a simple enough task, but you hadn't been allowed to bring anything in with you. No weapons, no instruments, not even a clutch. It had all been checked at the entrance.
As you scanned the room, your eyes rested on a piano on a raised platform in the northwest corner of the room. Perfect. It was unoccupied, and you suspected this was why there was no music playing. If you played, everyone would come to see what was happening, but no one would raise their eyebrows at someone playing the piano at a ball. Your chest felt tight at the thought, for some reason.
“Excuse me.” A woman approached you, holding a fan to hide her mouth. Her mask was that of a peacock, and her dress matched perfectly. She was elegance in living form. “I just wished to speak to you for but a moment.” Her eyes displayed mirth, but without being able to see her mouth, you couldn't tell if she was being true.
“Yes?”
“Its just that…” She clapped the fan shut and lowered it to her side. “You look…familiar.”
Your blood ran cold. Were you already being clocked? You laughed shortly, trying to maintain your composure.
“I'm afraid that's utterly impossible. I have not attended a ball in quite some time.” You replied airily as you brought the champagne glass to your lips.
The woman narrowed her eyes and leaned forward, studying your face the best she could through your mask.
“Nonsense! I know you!” She waved her fan dismissively. “I was at your debut ball! You were in that awful green and pink monstrosity. I must say you are much finer dressed this evening. Blue silk suits you.”
You disagreed, but preened a bit at the praise. Her words made you relax a bit. Even if she knew your identity, she was friendly.
“Yes uh…My betrothed…” A lie. Astarion and you had never really defined your relationship. You were both content with what you had. “...picked it out for me. So thank you.” You watched as her fan came back up to hide her mouth.
You did not have a fan to use, and the nuances of Baldurian Fan etiquette was long lost to you, as you had never practiced it in the first place. For all you knew, she was using her fan to lie to you.
But the woman was smiling genially, the crinkles at the edge of her eyes indicating a genuine attitude. If she was being false, she was a master at it.
“Yes, well. I do not recall your name.” The woman began. “If you could-”
Suddenly an arm wrapped itself around your waist and pulled you into someone's chest. You would have been panicked, had you not immediately smelled the telltale musk of rosemary, brandy, and bergamot. You smiled and looked up.
Astarion was smiling politely at the woman, but his eyes betrayed his true feelings. He didn't trust her. Then again, he didn't trust anyone. But this one hurt you a little. You hadn't received praise from anyone but him in a long time. Since the tadpole incident, in fact.
Then you were confused. You were waiting for his signal to start the plan. This was not that. “What's wrong?” You tilted your head to look up at him.
The woman, on the other hand, seemed utterly intrigued by Astarion's silvery-white hair and lion mask. She leaned forward again to get a closer look.
Astarion paid no attention to her, however, and tightened his grip on your waist. He leaned down to whisper, but apparently thought better of it, and stood back up.
“I'm afraid I must take my beloved away from you, milady.” He said, putting on an affectation of haughtiness. “We have much to discuss.”
The woman looked disappointed to see Astarion go. She nodded and waved cordially to you before dipping back into the crowd.
Astarion steered away from them, leading you towards an enclosed balcony. The fresh air was welcome, and you took a deep breath as you exited the stuffy ballroom. You pulled out of his grip to wander to the edge of the balcony.
Far down, below the balcony, was a sight you had seen many times. A garden. In fact, you had seen this exact sight several times, as this family was very prolific with parties. You were never one to mingle, so the balcony became your refuge.
Astarion closed the door tightly behind him with a *click*, before joining you at the edge. “You know, Cazador never let us mingle at parties he held.” You could confirm this, as you had never seen Astarion at any of the Szarr parties during your stint as a noble. “But I didn't realize there was so much wheeling and dealing.”
“Not to mention the noble ladies circles of gossip.” You added. “I was never able to enter one, of course, they're very particular. They're also insidious. Just catty women talking about everyone like they don't matter.” You took another sip of champagne, feeling a tad bitter.
“I'm almost done scouting. I found the room where the relics are being held, I just need to get in.” Astarion began. “Have you found a suitable distraction?”
You nodded, your chest feeling tight again. “Yea, there's a grand piano in the northwest corner of the room. No one's playing it, so it would be the perfect distraction.”
Astarion's expression changed. It was something between pity, worry, and fear. “Are you sure?” He asked carefully. “After all those recitals…I would have thought you'd avoid playing for nobles.”
Ah, that's why your chest felt so tight. Four years with Astarion had done a lot to erase some of the more unpleasant memories from being a noble.
You pursed your lips as you remembered. Before you had run away, your parents had tried to be supportive of your love of music. However, that translated to dressing you up in those awful gowns, and sitting you down in front of hundreds of nobles for a ‘recital’. Which just meant you playing for a few hours, enduring stares from the nobles as they talked in hushed whispers, judging you for every move you made. You could still feel their eyes on you if you thought about it.
But this was different, your mask served as a layer of protection. Not to mention you were wearing your best. You felt confident enough to pull it off.
“I think…i'll be fine.” You swelled with affection at his worry. “But thank you, it means a lot to me that you care enough to make me comfortable.” You leaned against him, and he rested his head atop yours.
He hummed. “Your peace of mind is worth more to me than Jaheira's little bauble.” He said softly, wrapping his arm back around you. “These last four years have been the counterweight to two hundred years of misery. I wouldn't trade your happiness for a shiny trinket.”
You giggled, pushing his arm hard. “It's not just a ‘bauble’ or a ‘shiny trinket’. It's a dangerous relic that could cause major problems should it fall into the wrong hands. My discomfort is worth it.”
He adjusted your mask for you, a lovely dark blue the same color as your gown, with gold and blue feathers adorning one corner. “Not to me. Not when I have the power to protect you.”
Your eyes softened. “I appreciate that, Astarion. I really do.” You cupped his cheek gently. “But lives are at stake if we don't get this ring.” You reluctantly pulled away. “We need to get back inside. The market starts in a few hours, and the closer we cut it, the more security there will be.”
Astarion sighed, fixing his own jacket. “So be it. Just be careful, darling. The nobles are sharks. More so than I expected.”
You nodded. “Remember to give me the signal when you're ready.”
“What's the signal again?” He asked sheepishly.
You glared at him as the two of you crossed the balcony back to the door. “We went over this. It's two taps with your foot.” You demonstrated the movement, wincing as your shoes felt too tight. You were beginning to feel overstimulated.
As you re-entered the ball room, you took one final glance at the night sky outside. It was going to be a long night. Astarion pecked your cheek before walking away, and you felt a little better about the plan.
Astarion didn't give the signal for nearly another hour after that encounter on the balcony, and you were starting to get frustrated. You saw neither hide nor hair of him that entire time. You mingled with the nobles to create less suspicion, but none of the nobles had anything of interest to say.
It was mostly irrelevant things like “Lady Jannath is divorcing Master Fevras!” Or “Young Master Luke is becoming quite the excellent duellist!” All things you cared little for.
You mostly spent the hour at the refreshments table, trying your hand at some of the other sweets at the table and drinking champagne. You found that while the cookies from earlier were inedible, the cake was quite delicious. A soft, fluffy texture that delighted you.
You finally caught Astarion's gaze cutting through the crowd. He tapped his foot twice, though it was hard to see.
You quickly nodded and wove through the crowd towards the piano. When you reached it, you took in the moment to really behold it. You appreciated its ivory keys, and its white facade. It was a stunner of a grand piano, and its lid was carved to look like a lace inset. The keys themselves looked in pristine condition, and a quick peek under the lid proved it was a well-loved , well-cared for piano. It had been kept in tip-top shape and tuned well.
You hummed contently when you sat on the bench, already earning a few stares from some passerby. You went to rest your hands atop the keys, but stopped short. Your gloves were covered in crumbs, you realized. This wouldn't do. You needed to treat this piano with respect.
You pulled them off gently and rested them against your lap, then placed your hands on the keys.
Without sheet music, you were a little lost on what to play. You needed something long, something bold, but not too bold. Something elegant. Years of playing piano at home was swishing around your brain, a discordant racket of noise that threatened to swell and overwhelm you.
But then, a sound above all of them. A long sonnet that your nanny from Warerdeep had taught you. The only member of your household that had cared for the true you. It was quite a lengthy song, usually accompanied by a singer, but you were no lyricist and didn't recall the words. Not to mention you were convinced you had the voice of a braying donkey, despite years of practice.
Out of the corner of your eye you saw Astarion mingling with some nobles near position. You needed to do this. Him and the Harpers were counting on you. But there was a gnawing pain in your chest that you couldn't place. You weren't nervous , that wasn't it. It was more like a deep sense of dread.
Once you started playing, you couldn't stop. The tune flowed from your brain straight to your hands, moving as if possessed. It was an elegant but bold tune that drew the attention of guests immediately.
The distraction worked like a charm. Some wandered over, confused but surprised, but some got excited and started to pair up, filling the floor with dancing.
Suddenly, you felt radiant. There were many eyes on you, yes, but unlike your recitals, they were not looking at you with disgust. You, in your elegant dress, felt like a goddess capturing the attention of an adoring audience.
Astarion, meanwhile, was nowhere to be seen. You assumed he was moving forward with the plan. It all rested on him at this point. You just had to keep up with the playing long enough for no one to notice he was gone.
You played out the entire song, your ears attuned to the audience's whispers. You needed to make sure they stayed long enough, and didn't get bored. Which they did, around the fifth and final section of the song. The crowd started to thin, and you felt a moment of worry for Astarion. You managed to finish out the song with no immediate interruptions, despite its length.
You stood up when you finished, and faced what audience remained. You did a half-bow-half-curtsy, nervously scanning their faces for disapproval. Slowly, they began to clap, looking confused.
“That was lovely. Though, as I imagine, unplanned.” A man In an striking mask approached you. He sounded familiar, but it wasn't until you got a glimpse at his eyes that you recognized him.
It was Lord Sainsbury, the son of the host of the party. You tensed up. There was no reason for any member of the host family to approach you unless you were in trouble. Your worry for Astarion grew. Were you caught?
“Ah, yes. “ you flushed, flattening your dress where it had bunched up around your curves when you sat down. You were feeling the embarrassment now. “I just saw a piano, and…had to play it, I guess?”
The man smiled a knowing smile, and you thought the jig was up, but then he chuckled and pointed to the piano. “It's nice to see you back at the instruments, Lady Moliira.”
If your blood hadn't run cold before, it did now. He knew your identity. You hadn't realized someone of your stature playing the piano would end up being a beacon to anyone who knew you.
You sputtered, but he continued to speak.
“Just keep the playing to a minimum. We wouldn't want to distract the patriars here to socialize, would we?” It was a warning, but a welcome one. You were not in trouble yet, but if you continued, you would be kicked out. He also had no idea about Astarion.
You nodded, assessing the situation. Astarion was not back yet. You needed another distraction to keep people away from the stockroom.
“I KNEW it!” a shrill voice cut through the crowd as a gaggle of women approached, headed by the woman in the peacock mask.
She smacked her fan against her hand, looking superior , as the women peeking out from behind her giggled and snickered.
“You are Lady Moliira. I should have guessed by your…” She looked you up and down. “Well I'm sure you know by now.”
You felt a lump rise in your throat. A confrontation was the last thing you wanted right now. But…
It was a perfect distraction to use a few more minutes.
“Y-yes. Do I know you?” You tried to sound confident but couldn't help stuttering a bit.
She scoffed. “You have no need to know of me. I, however, know of you.” She crossed over to you and used her fan to tilt your chin up. “Its uncanny, really. Like putting lipstick on a pig. ”
“Excuse me?” Her words cut like a knife. You had just started to feel pretty. And Astarion had spent so much time doing your makeup for this event. You were not going to let someone disparage his hard work. “Better lipstick on a pig than lipstick on an asshole”
Your words were crude, and the crowd reacted appropriately, with gasps and murmurs of excitement. You had forgotten how much nobles liked drama. This was their feast for the evening.
The peacock masked woman came blindingly fast, and her hand moved even faster. A slap rang out, loud and clear, as many patrons went completely silent.
You now had a bright red mark on your cheek, and your mask lay broken on the ground. You felt extremely exposed, even though everyone already apparently knew who you were from the start. They had to have known.
Other nobles were thin, with perfect corsets and diets and exercise. But you had never fit into that bubble. Corsets never fit you, and dieting never seemed to work.
You put your hand on your stinging cheek as you stared out at the crowd. They were bloodthirsty. They wanted more drama. Astarion needed more time, and you would give it to him.
You lunged forward, tackling the woman to the ground. She yelped in surprise when you wrenched her own mask off and grasped at her hair, pulling it with all your might. If the audience wanted a performance, you would give them one. You were a bard, through and through , after all.
So you and the woman, who you could not for the life of you identify even with her mask off, tussled for a few minutes, ripping each other's hair, and dress, and jewelry. You were cursing up a storm, and your pearls and jewels were scattered someplace across the ballroom floor. Your dress was in tatters and your perfectly coiffed hair was a mess. You no longer resembled an elegant noble lady. Not that you did at the beginning, it would seem.
A few moments later, the guards pulled you apart, giving a half-hearted talking to in a private dressing room in the back of the manor. You prayed you had given Astarion enough time.
When you looked in the mirror, you almost cried. All his hard work was gone. Your makeup was smeared across your face and none of the frippery he had dolled you up with remained. You felt disgusting. This was exactly why you hated these goddamn parties.
You fixed yourself to the best of your ability, though there was no erasing the bright red handprint on your cheek. You mostly just wiped your makeup off completely and flattened down your hair. There was no fixing the dress or jewelry, and no sense in attempting to make yourself look nice again. Putting lipstick on a pig indeed.
When you finished, you made your way back to the ballroom. A quick scan said that Peacock lady had not yet returned, but everyone else was staring at you.
At some point in your absence, someone had started playing the piano again. That, combined with the uneasy stares of drama-hungry nobles, was too much for you. You quickly made your way to the balcony, your safe space.
You didn't breathe until you made it to the edge of the terrace, and when you did, it was shaky. You stared out over the garden with a sullen expression. You were going to break down again, you just knew it.
You tried to take a few steadying breaths, but they were no match for the turmoil overwhelming your head. You were tired, upset, overstimulated, and your brain just wouldn't shut up !
You leaned against the railing and covered your head with your hands to attempt to quell it. It worked a little, but not enough to make you feel like you weren't going insane.
It was the sound of footsteps on the rooftop that jolted you. You stared up at the covering as Astarion shimmied his way down a column, grinning like a cat. A brown bag was held in between his teeth.
“I thought I'd find you out here, I got the-” he stopped instantly the moment he took you in. “Darling? What's wrong? What happened” he stuffed the small bag into his pocket and rushed to you. He examined you all over, rubbing his fingers over the mark on your cheek in small, gentle circles.
“Nothing, I'm fine” you struggled to get the words out. Your tongue felt thick in your throat. “I just.. no.. you got the ring though?”
He pulled you close. “Don't lie to me. What happened ?”
His genuine care made your eyes well up. You buried your face in his chest and let loose.
You told him about the woman, about her words and how you had decided to fight her in order to prolong your distraction, but that it had taken out of you much more than you could give.
Astarion held you tight through all of it. He whispered sweet nothings in your ear and let you cry.
When you were done, he held your face up to look him in the eyes.
“Why would you do that? I told you I didn't want you sacrificing your comfort for this.”
You scoffed through your tears. “And I told you that this was important. It was worth the discomfort.”
He shook his head. “You should never have had to go that far. I'm sure even Jaheira would agree. This wasn't worth it.”
You visibly deflated. You just wanted to help, but you couldn't even do that right…
He let go of you , and you missed his warmth immediately. “Let's go home. We will get this to Jaheira and the Harpers in the morning.” He grasped your hand. “How do you want to get out of here?”
You glanced at the door. “I really don't want to go face those people. They're awful. Plus if that woman's out there I don't think I can stop myself from slapping her back.”
“I don't think I could stop myself either. What an awful hag she was.” He scowled. “This way it is.” He looped His arm around your waist and leapt from the balcony, scaling down the columns until you reached the gardens.
Once you were home, Astarion put in extra special care towards you. He helped you slip off the remainder of your tattered dress, and gently brushed the knots and tangles out of your hair.
You sat sullenly as he did so. You had often wondered why he chose you out of all your companions. You weren't particularly fast, or strong. You were good at music and magic, and that was about it. And you couldn't even do those right.
“Why do you even like me? I mess up all the time..” you leaned back to look at his face, tongue sticking out from concentration as he brushed your hair.
He paused, looking down at you with an unreadable expression, though you imagined it was something like rage and pity. Neither of which you wanted to see.
“You've never asked me that before. What's the occasion?”
You scoffed. “Don't tease me, I'm serious.” You jerked away, burying your face in your hands.
Sighing, Astarion sat the brush down next to you. “You worry too much. I am devoted entirely to you.”
“You're not answering my question. Why do you even like me? “ You repeated.
“Why do I need a reason?” He asked gently. “I mean, do you have a reason you like me?”
You pondered that for a minute. Yes, you had a reason. You had a million reasons, in fact. But that still didn't answer your question.
“I can think of so many…yet you can't even think of one?” You whined and looked up at him.
He rolled his eyes in response, but there was a smile on his face. “Fine. I like that you smile when you play music. I love that you always do what you feel is right, even when I disagree. I like that you care so much. I like when you move-”
Embarrassed, You put your hands over his mouth. “Fine! Fine! I get it. You have just as many reasons as me…but still…I mess up more than I help. I risked a lot tonight.”
“Much to my chagrin.” He added. “I wish you would have thought about yourself before doing that, but there's not much we can do about the past. You shouldn't doubt yourself just because some bitchy lady said you were fat? She doesn't know anything. I bet her husband wishes he had someone like you, with true spirit.” He pulled you towards him, his hands lingering but not wrapping around you.
You sighed and took the plunge, wrapping your own around him again. You needed the comfort, the warmth.
“Thank you, Astarion…I love you.”
He chuckled and patted your head. “I love you too, my dear. I think you just forget that sometimes. But I'm here to remind you, over and over again.”