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Seven days, fifteen hours, and thirty three minutes. It's a rough estimation, of course, but as he glances at the hands on the ornate clock in the corner of Gale's dining room, Astarion is quite certain it's been at least that long since he's had a proper conversation with Ysera.
She'd been away in Waterdeep on business before Gale came to collect him, paraded around amongst the wizard's curious students and asked to give several talks on her part in the battle that had saved Baldur's Gate – and perhaps all of Faerûn – from certain destruction. He'd been invited too, of course, but politely declined to avoid feeling like an animal on display. And at any rate, it wasn't the kind of attention he liked, but instead the kind where people expected him to say something poignant or inspire them to greatness.
“Gale says they've been asking about you,” she'd told him, hoping he might reconsider. “Word has it they're quite enamored with the only vampire in the realm who could walk in the sun and live to tell the tale. ”
“Well of course they are, darling. Why wouldn't they be? I'm certain you'll paint them an accurate picture of my exploits. But don't be afraid to embellish a little, hmm?”
There were other reasons he hadn't chosen to come with her, but he'd kept those a closely guarded secret.
The hand in his pocket grasps the jewelry box tucked against his thigh, fingertips brushing against the soft velvet exterior. He'd been eyeing the ring inside for weeks in secret, and only after Ysera had left the city had he felt comfortable enough to acquire it without her accidentally stumbling upon it.
He'd even purchased it with his own money, a hefty sum that nearly made him consider simply pocketing it instead, but something about doing that had felt wrong, insincere. And so he'd spent the last three months of his earnings in what was simultaneously one of the riskiest and most sentimental decisions of his life.
Even more surprising to him was that he hadn't once regretted it, or felt foolish for indulging in such a romantic gesture.
Presently, he's busy reminiscing on all the decisions that led him to this particular moment when he spots her again, a blur of pink and silver and gold as Ysera rushes down the stairs, taking them two at a time. She bounds past him and into the kitchen, and her voice joins with Lae’zel’s, Shadowheart’s, and Halsin’s as they discuss the progress of tonight's supper.
It had been Gale's idea in the first place to organize a celebration during the winter solstice. In truth, it was more of an excuse to gather everyone under the same roof, especially considering the times they were able to do so had grown few and far between.
Even Wyll and Karlach had been able to join them for a brief respite from the hells, though the stink of sulphur and brimstone still clung to their clothes hours after their arrival. Ysera had been so excited to see them that she'd hardly protested when Karlach pulled her into a hug so fierce Astarion was convinced she might crack a few ribs in the process.
“Soldier! Look at you!”
Suffice to say, he was much less reluctant to accept the firm handshake and embrace Wyll had offered him, even as Karlach had tried to scoop them both into her arms as well.
He's been hoping to grab Ysera's attention for the better part of the afternoon, but she'd been swept up in the chaos, rarely getting more than a minute or two to speak with him before someone else was whisking her away for help with one thing or another.
It isn't that he’s jealous – not really. The rest of them want to spend time with her for many of the same reasons he does, after all. But that doesn't stop him from feeling so sour or prevent the deep scowl that creases his brow.
He huffs an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair to rearrange his perfectly tousled curls. Patience, he reminds himself. He hadn't initially intended to bring the ring with him in the first place, but the moment he saw Ysera here again in Waterdeep he was glad he had, his mind set on giving it to her. If anything, it was more outrageous that he had waited this long at all.
It's better that he ignores the lingering doubts that leave him wondering what he might do if she rejects him.
That task is made far easier when the door to his left slams open as Karlach's foot juts into the dining room, and Astarion starts before turning towards the sound.
“Look alive, Fangs! This is supposed to be a celebration, not a wake.”
Karlach stumbles into the room with an armful of decorations, an assortment of ornaments and garland and other trinkets that smell strongly of pine. She dumps half the pile unceremoniously into Astarion's arms, and he scoffs before shooting her a defiant look.
“Just what do you think you're –”
“Make yourself useful and help me decorate,” she interjects, glancing down at him. “Gale wants this place looking nice and festive before supper.” A wide, toothy grin splits her face before she adds, “He says there's no ladder, but I'd be more than happy to put you on my shoulders if you need to reach the high places.”
Astarion's face twists into a look of silent fury, a single, gleaming fang emerging behind his pursed lips. Karlach merely throws her head back and lets out a boisterous laugh before making her way down the hall and out of sight, leaving Astarion fuming in her wake.
Astarion gets his revenge by upending the decorations on the table and glaring daggers at them. He sniffs and folds his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall to continue his brooding. But when his eyes scan the discarded decorations again, something catches his attention beneath a string of silver tinsel.
Astarion plucks the thing in question from the pile with deft fingers and holds it up to the light, a plan already beginning to form in his mind.
Oh, yes, this will do rather nicely.
────
Ysera is careful to take her time as she slowly makes her way down the hall towards the dining room, concentrating on putting one foot solidly in front of the other. In her arms is a large wooden platter piled high with various breads, meats, jams, and cheeses, which Gale had carefully entrusted to her after she had insisted so adamantly that she was up for the task.
Her arms shake and her muscles burn as she tiptoes carefully into the dining room, exhaling loudly when she finally sets the platter down in the center of the table. With a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure no one is watching, Ysera picks several of the finer pieces of meat and cheese from the spread, stacking them in her palm before shoving them happily into her mouth.
She closes her eyes and savors the rich flavors with a happy sigh, tail twirling behind her as she bounces from foot to foot. Within seconds, she's got another handful of food prepared, eating it just as quickly as the last.
Astarion's footsteps nearly scare the soul out of her as he strides into the room and surveys her with a click of his tongue.
“You'll ruin your appetite.”
She turns towards him and gives him a sullen look. “But it's so good ,” she insists. “Gale's got all the fancy stuff I can't find back home. And aren't you always telling me to ‘indulge in the finer things in life’?”
She mimics his voice as best she can while reciting his advice, and a flicker of amusement flashes in Astarion's crimson eyes. He steps forward and wipes a stray bit of jam from the corner of her mouth, cleaning his hands on the tablecloth.
“Yes, but I always had something far more… extravagant in mind. You could do a lot better than party snacks, my dear.”
“Could do a lot worse, too,” she pouts, popping a bit of sliced sausage into her mouth. They look at each other for a moment, and when a sheepish smile spreads across her face, Astarion sighs in defeat and rolls his eyes affectionately at her. He opens his mouth to say something, but a commotion from the kitchen has Ysera whirling on her heel.
“Ah… I should get back,” she says hurriedly. “I forgot that Shadowheart still wanted my help with –”
Before Ysera's taken more than two steps, Astarion's snatched her by the wrist, holding her in place. Her golden eyes are wide when she turns to face him, torn between her compulsion to help the rest of their friends and the alternative of ditching her responsibilities to sneak off with Astarion instead.
“She can wait,” he says matter-of-factly, voice dropping an octave and washing over her like the caress of a velvet glove. She knows that tone, low and seductive and colored with just enough mischief to promise that whatever he wants will be more than worth her while.
“Allow me to borrow you for a moment. You've done more than enough for one afternoon as it is.”
Whatever hesitation she still feels melts away beneath his crimson gaze, and Ysera pulls her wrist free from his grasp to interlock their fingers.
“That sounds like a good idea, actually.”
Astarion smirks triumphantly back at her.
“The only kind I have, darling.”
────
He leads Ysera down the hall and away from any prying eyes, finally pulling her into the open doorway of what must be Gale's study. There's a fire still burning in the hearth, and the flames cast warm, flickering shadows over her face. He's always found Ysera attractive, but there's something about the way the light reflects in her eyes like a stained glass mosaic of gold and amber that still seizes his unbeating heart every time he sees it.
There's so much life, so much passion in those striking eyes of hers that threatens to swallow him whole. He's heard it said that drowning is a peaceful way to die, and as he gazes into the depths of her eyes he believes it.
She looks up at him as he studies her, instinctively stepping into his personal space to enjoy the nearness of him – his scent, his familiar coolness, everything that she had so deeply missed during their time apart. Her hand settles on the breast of his waistcoat, admiring his handiwork.
“Like what you see, my sweet?”
Astarion rarely finds himself falling back into old habits these days, but it's easier to mask his anxieties beneath the familiar veneer of confidence that had served him for so many years.
“Yes,” she whispers simply, “but you don't need me to tell you what you already know.”
“Ah,” he chuckles, in response, “but I do so love to hear you say it.”
He lifts his eyes towards the top of the doorframe, and her gaze follows closely behind. Ysera tilts her head curiously before glancing back at him.
“Mistletoe?”
The shimmer of magic that enchants the crisp leaves and pearl-white berries is unmistakable, some sort of spell Gale must have put on them to preserve them from decay.
“That's right,” Astarion says, placing a hand on her hip. The contact excites them both in equal measure, and his fingers tighten in the soft robes that adorn her body.
“And that means I finally have an excuse to kiss you.”
Ysera blinks in confusion.
“You don't need an excuse to kiss me, Astarion,” she says, frowning.
“Don't I?” Astarion asks. “I don't think I've had more than five minutes with you all afternoon. It all leaves a man feeling rather… neglected, don't you think?”
It's obvious that he's joking with her, but the quick flash of disappointment in his eyes is something she notices almost immediately. Despite everything, she can't help but feel a little guilty.
“I'm sorry,” Ysera starts, golden eyes wide and apologetic. She chews on her lip and holds up her hands. “I didn't mean to ignore you. I was so busy catching up with everyone else, and you know how much Gale loves to talk, and –”
She's rambling now, face growing hot beneath the amused smirk he levels at her as he lifts his brow. Astarion can feel her heart thundering in her chest as he snakes an arm around her waist and pulls her close, using his body to cage her against the doorframe. Ysera's apologies die in her throat as he suddenly takes her by the chin, running the soft pad of his thumb across her lips. When her breath catches, pride surges through him.
She still flushes so beautifully beneath his touch.
“Shh.” His voice is low, face close enough to feel the heat radiating off of her cheeks. “Let's put that pretty mouth of yours to better use, shall we?”
As he drags his finger gently beneath her chin, Astarion coaxes Ysera's face closer to his own and captures her lips in a tender kiss. There is no urgency in the way he enjoys the softness of her mouth, running his tongue along her bottom lip before she opens her mouth to him. He takes his time with her, the hand beneath her chin sliding into the soft pink waves of her hair as he moans quietly in appreciation. Ysera sighs heavily as his nails rake across her scalp, letting her eyes flutter closed.
Astarion is the first to break away, mindful that Ysera needs to catch her breath. But she's on him again within seconds, letting him kiss her with a gentleness that makes her knees weak. By now their kissing has usually turned far more passionate, but this time, neither of them feel the urge to do so.
Astarion, for his part, certainly doesn't mind. He takes the time to place a soft kiss on her brow, and her forehead is warm and comforting when he rests his against hers. Their noses brush against each other, and he can hear the longing in Ysera's voice when she murmurs, “I missed you.”
“I know,” he says. “I missed you too.”
Astarion withdraws the hand tangled in Ysera's hair to fish around in his pocket for the ring. He's halfway to presenting it to her when Karlach pops around the corner, and Astarion silently curses whichever of the gods have a particular vendetta against him today.
“Oi, lovebirds!” Karlach shouts. “When you're finished sucking each other's faces off or whatever, supper's ready.”
Ysera's face emerges from behind Astarion's shoulder, her expression apologetic.
“S-sorry Karlach,” she says with a shaky laugh, hiding her embarrassment poorly. "We'll be right – mmph! ”
She finds herself bent back at the waist as Astarion dips her low and kisses her again, purposely moaning into her mouth loudly enough for Karlach to hear. The other tiefling has mercifully left them alone by the time he pulls Ysera back upright, and she shoves him playfully before making her way back towards the kitchen.
“You’re terrible! I guess we'd better not keep them waiting.”
────
It's long past supper now. The warmth of the blood from the boar the rest of them had eaten has long since cooled in his belly, and Astarion finds himself frustratingly cold as he searches for Ysera. Most of the others have retired to Gale's guest rooms for the evening, besides Halsin, who lays curled up in front of the roaring fire in his bear form, and Karlach, who’s splayed out across his side and nestled into his soft fur, snoring away without a care in the world.
Gale sits nearby in his armchair with a book in hand, indicating towards the stairs with a nod of his head when Astarion approaches. They exchange no more than a handful of words before Astarion ascends the stairs, hoping at last for the quiet moment he's been looking for all afternoon.
At last, he finds her on the balcony, staring out at the water. It's eerily quiet save for the sound of the waves lapping against the docks. A gust of wind rips past, and Ysera shivers before tugging her cloak around her shoulders, enveloping herself in a sea of shimmering white and gold.
He joins her at the railing, and her breath fans out in little puffs of steam when she turns to smile warmly at him. Something catches her attention then, and Ysera's eyes widen as she tips her head up to the sky, gaze focused on the soft grays and pinks that obscure everything but the faintest trace of moonlight.
“Oh, look!” she exclaims, “It's snowing.”
Astarion watches as Ysera braces herself on the railing and leans out over the water, tongue stuck out from behind her pointed teeth. He lifts a brow, utterly perplexed by her behavior.
“What in the hells are you doing?” he asks, instinctively slipping a hand around her waist when she leans just a little too far over the railing for his liking.
“Catching snowflakes,” she says, pouting when he doesn't immediately seem to understand. The expression on his face suggests she's said something completely outrageous.
“Don't tell me you've never…” she starts, cutting herself off mid sentence when she realizes what she's asking. Whatever memories he may have had of his childhood are nothing more than phantoms in his mind, shadows that slip through his hands like water whenever he tries to grasp them.
Perhaps he had caught snowflakes on his tongue when he was small, just as she had. Perhaps he had done a lot of things before Cazador had found him.
“Right. I'm sorry.” Ysera's face falls, and she averts her eyes as her guilt twists her expression into an uncomfortable grimace. Astarion says nothing, quietly placing his hands upon the railing and lifting his face towards the sky.
The snow is falling thickly now, settling in an icy blanket along the rooftops nearby. Astarion makes a small noise and sighs quietly through his nose, resisting the voice in his head that tells him how ridiculous he must look when he sticks out his tongue to catch a snowflake drifting towards him. No sooner has it melted on his tongue than does he hear Ysera's muffled laughter beside him, hand clapped over her mouth when he turns to frown at her.
“What?” he demands, pursing his lips. “What's so funny?”
Ysera's tail swishes two and fro beneath her cloak, her eyes bright as she grins stupidly at him. When Astarion's frown deepens, it only amuses her further.
“I never expected I'd see you doing anything so… ridiculous, that's all.”
Astarion scoffs, thankful for once he doesn't have the ability to blush. He looks away, shuffling uncomfortably on his feet before jamming his hands in his pockets.
“Well,” he says, feigning nonchalance, “don't get used to it, darling.”
Ysera's smile fades, and her voice grows unusually somber.
“I could, though, you know?” she asks, leaning against the railing. Her eyes wander over the water again. “Just the two of us, doing whatever makes us happy. Just because we want to do it. We deserve that much after everything, don't we?”
The sincerity of it hits him harder than he had anticipated. He recognizes the unspoken meaning in her words, that longing for a life she had long since given up on having.
The same way he had given up, too – before her, before she changed everything.
The ring feels heavy in his pocket again, and he closes his fingers around the small velvet box. It brings him little comfort, knowing what he's about to do next. But if he waits any longer he fears he'll lose the courage to go through with it.
He hates the way his voice shakes when he steps towards her and says her name.
“Ysera…”
“Hmm?” She turns her head, concern written across her features when she notices the strained look on his face.
“What's with that look? Did I say something weird again? Gods…”
“No,” Astarion interjects, shaking his head. “No.”
Seconds pass – an eternity of silence as she gazes into his eyes, waiting for him to continue. Her heart stammers in her chest, uncertain what ails him as he huffs in frustration at his own reluctance.
This is stupid. He's being stupid. People ask this sort of thing all the time, right? So why is he so godsdamned nervous?
“I – here…” he says, extracting the jewelry box from his pocket and offering it to her by way of explanation, “this is for you.”
Ysera quietly takes the velvet box from his hand and opens the lid to observe the glimmering gemstone inside. The fire opal nestled into the silver ring band is massive, a harmonious mix of sun-kissed golds and ruby reds that nearly take her breath away.
Red and gold. The colors of their eyes, a perfect pair contained in one vibrant stone. She brings it closer to her face and watches as it shifts and shimmers like a living flame.
Her chest tightens with an emotion she lacks the words to describe. Suffocating and liberating in equal measure. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes but she blinks them back.
“It – it's beautiful,” Ysera whispers, glancing up at Astarion. Her lips tremble slightly, but she wears a smile when she turns to face him.
“Thank you.”
Her finger delicately traces the gemstone, admiring its craft.
“This must have cost a fortune, where did you –”
Astarion interrupts her with a swift shake of his head. Instead, he lays a hand gently over hers and brushes his thumb over her wrist.
“Nevermind that,” he says softly. “Do you like it?”
“Of course I do,” Ysera answers immediately, tucking the box close to her chest.
And then something dawns on her, so suddenly she's almost embarrassed that it didn't cross her mind until now. The roundness of Astarion’s eyes and the softness of his smile only seems to confirm her suspicions, and her tail flicks anxiously as she hesitates to ask him:
“Wait a second. Are… are you asking me to marry you?”
It's not as though she would say no, but it's all so sudden – too sudden, and –
“Am I?” Astarion asks. He pauses and shrugs, delighted by the expression on her face. “Well, darling, I suppose I am. I would have preferred it to be somewhere much nicer than a dusty old wizard’s tower, but… well, here we are nonetheless.”
“I’m gonna tell Gale you said that,” she says conspiratorially.
Astarion barks out a laugh. “Oh, please do. Someone ought to tell him. Did you see all those books he has? It's a little on the nose, even for a wizard, don't you think?”
Ysera giggles and tucks herself into his arms when he pulls her close, nestling her face against his chest. Astarion holds her for a moment, both of them content with simply enjoying one another's presence. After a moment, she steps away, finding his expression wistful when she looks at him again.
“Can you imagine?” he says, scrunching up his nose. “Me, a married man. That all sounds so… domestic.” He tips his head to the side, considering the idea. It isn't the first time the thought has drifted through his mind, but he decided long ago that he felt rather indifferent about the matter one way or the other. And after all, it hadn't mattered how their relationship was defined, so long as they were still together.
“Oh, yes,” Ysera teases him, hands on her hips as she leans forward with a serious expression that knits her brows. “What would your clients think? You have quite the reputation to maintain, after all.”
Astarion grins slyly at her, purposely baring his fangs to demonstrate his capabilities. He leans forward to press them into her neck, nibbling at her throat and peppering kisses across her skin with the express purpose of making her squirm.
“Stop!” she shouts, batting him away. “That tickles!”
Her facade crumbles and she dissolves into a fit of infectious laughter. Astarion finds himself joining in, the sound of her laugh kindling a warmth that blossoms in his chest and banishes the biting cold.
The snow swirls around them and Astarion withdraws from her, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Ysera's ear and brushing aside some of the snow that has begun to cling to her cloak. He takes the jewelry box from her hands and opens it again, extending the ring to her after a moment of quiet contemplation.
“That doesn't mean I still can't ask you to be mine,” he says softly, eyes tracking the flush that creeps across her cheeks and stains the tips of her ears a vibrant shade of pink. His expression has grown soft again, vulnerable in a way that he has never been with anyone but her.
“You will, won't you, darling?”
Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears. Ysera merely holds out her hand in answer, tail swishing with barely contained excitement when Astarion slips the fire opal over her finger. She flexes her fingers to admire the stone once more before pulling him back into an affectionate embrace. Her heart beats fiercely in her chest, arms holding him protectively against her. When Ysera's hands smooth over his back, he buries his face into her neck and sighs.
“I’ve always been yours, Astarion.”
For the first time in a long time, Astarion feels like a stranger in his own body again. Like he's watching someone else's happy ending play out before his eyes, and only when Ysera pulls away and cups his face between her palms does the touch of her hands confirm that this is real – that she is here; warm, alive, and most importantly, his. And nothing can take that away from him anymore.
“I should have gotten you something too,” she sighs, smoothing her thumbs over his face. Astarion shakes his head and rests his hand over hers.
“I don't want anything in return,” Astarion says, murmuring the words against her lips as he kisses her again. “Not when I already have everything I need right here.”
Her arms slide over his shoulders, tail curling around his back. Ysera's magic roars to life within her, and time almost seems to stop as they stare at one another, her lashes crystalizing as she blinks through her tears. The snow hangs around them in suspended animation, a curtain of white that veils them within its frigid embrace.
It's quiet. Intimate. Their own little piece of paradise, stolen from everyone and everything that tried so hard to break them. He'd stay here with her forever, if he could.
Astarion wipes her tears away and slips his hands beneath her cloak to pull her flush against him. He lifts her off the balcony and carries her back into the warmth of Gale's home, pressing chaste kisses against her face and neck that make her sigh so sweetly.
And in their last moments together before the world stirs back to life around them, Astarion marvels at how she fits so perfectly in his arms, just as she always has – just as she always will.