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Magistrate attacked on the streets – Gur under arrest! Citizens urged to report any suspicious activity.
Baldur’s Gate was in an uproar: travel restrictions, a strict curfew, and voices that screamed for justice. They had plastered wanted signs on every wall in the Lower City. Half the Gur population had been locked up or detained “for questioning” overnight. By dawn, there was hardly a soul who hadn’t heard the story. The headline must’ve spread halfway to Neverwinter by midday.
Astarion Ancunín, the youngest magistrate noble, had been ruthlessly attacked by a group of Gur after passing a new ruling that taxed outsiders for entering the city. He was found bleeding out in the streets, like a warning carved in flesh and left to rot.
Three days had passed, and she hadn’t stopped working since the night it happened. She barely ate or slept. There was no time for that. Every hour had been spent trying to somehow control the damage. Emergency council meetings, interrogations, drafting orders, holding court in his absence. If they needed a decree, she signed it, if they needed a seal, she gave her stamp of approval. Anything to keep things rolling, while waiting for Astarion’s return.
And yet, despite the investigations, there were only doubts in her mind. And the rumors. Some said he was probably dead but she didn’t believe that. He couldn’t be. Why wouldn’t they allow anyone to see him, then?
She told herself she just had to be patient, that he would call for her as soon as he was feeling better. But it wasn’t enough. Not when she had to walk past his empty seat every day. She needed to be sure. She needed to see him. Needed to know he was okay – or alive. Breathing.
The guards outside his quarters couldn’t stop her. They just glanced at her and stepped aside, letting her pass. She walked towards the door. Her hand hovered for a moment, then she pushed it open.
The room was completely dark. As she stepped inside, the stale air smelled of dry blood. However, there was also that familiar note of blended herbs. So he was here. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. She moved towards the window to let a bit of light and fresh air in. Her boots creaked against the wooden floorboards. As her fingers brushed the edge of the heavy velvet curtains, a voice cut through the silence. Low. Strained. But unmistakable.
“Don’t.”
She turned slowly, her eyes still adjusting to the shadows.
There he was, sitting in the big armchair at the other end of the room. He looked pale, more than usual. His skin was as white as parchment paper, his silver hair dull and lifeless.
“Astarion…”
“You shouldn’t be here, darling.”, he said, softer, his usual charm slipping through his weakened state.
“I wanted to make sure that-”
“I’m alive?” He smiled but it didn’t quite reach the corners of his mouth. “Without permission? You were always a stubborn one.”
“Oh, whoever did I get that from?”, she laughed, feeling lighter but still scared. There was something…odd about him. About the way he didn’t meet her eyes.
“What’s wrong with you?”, she finally asked, “I was worried. They say you almost died.”
“First of all, rude!”, Astarion joked, then his face grew serious. “Well, I did.”
Her breath caught and she froze. “What do you mean? I don’t understand.”
“I…was found by someone, who…offered to save me. I was dying and – gods – I wanted to live, this couldn’t be the end. So I let them change me.” His hands were shaking.
She wanted to come closer, but he shook his head.
“Don’t!”, he said again. This time it sounded like a plea. “You should go.”
“I won’t leave you.”
She kneeled before him and reached for his hand. It was cold, freezing. Her stomach flipped.
“I’m a vampire, love.” The words came out shaky.
Instead of pulling away though, her fingers tightened around his. She took a deep breath. He winced.
“Even if that’s the case-”
“You don’t get it! I’m a monster. I hunger for blood. It’s almost unbearable.”
There was a pause. His whole body was trembling now.
“Then take what you need.”
He blinked. “What?”
She glanced up at him and bared her neck just slightly. “I will not let you starve…”
“You can’t be for real!”
“Astarion, it’s me! I’ll stay with you, like I always have. So please, drink and get better. We’ll make a plan and find a way. I promise”
He stared at her. She offered herself up for him, not out of submission or obligation…but because she chose to trust him. Because they were partners, no, more than that. Actual friends.
Tears welled up in his eyes. What a weird kind of comfort. Dangerous even.
“Are you really sure? What if I lose control?” Astarion never hesitated. But this once he was absolutely terrified.
“Then you’ll have nowhere to run.”, she simply answered.
Not wrong. It was daylight. The sun would kill him if he tried to make a run for it.
Slowly he pulled himself up and leaned down to her. Her sweet scent clouding his senses. As he sank his fangs into her skin, he could taste her heartbeat, her warmth. The coppery tang of blood coated his tongue. It was pure bliss. Still, he felt guilty and couldn’t help but start crying, while feeding on her.
She put her arms around his back and just held him – gently petting his hair – until he was done and pulled back. Dark red stained his lips, but there wasn’t anything frightening about his expression. The color was back in his cheeks, and there was a light flush in them. He rested his forehead against hers and whispered: “Thank you.”
She chuckled, her thumb brushing his jaw. “You’re fine now.”
A moment passed.
“I’m still afraid.”, he admitted. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about…this situation. I just became magistrate. I don’t want to lose everything.”
“We’ll figure it out, together.”, she assured him.
“How? No more sunlight, remember?”, he muttered, a weak attempt at a joke.
“Then we’ll meet in the shadows. In between the gaps of sunlight.”