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It is said that a crow never forgets. At the time of hearing this, Astarion has scuffed and replied with something along the lines of: “If they never forget, they probably all hate me from draining their kin.”
Now, he wondered if his years of enthrallment and nibbling on whatever animal he could get his weakened hands on was the reason why no animal has assisted him. A crow may have saw him and reported his crimes to every animal that would listen.
He stared down at the squirrel who he thinks is the same one he had spoken to, or rather at, last week. It certainly had the same routine - come into the yard, crawl speedily around the ground, pounce on a leaf, then retreat up the oak tree.
But maybe, Astarion was losing his mind.
“You think I'm crazy, don't you? Speaking to any animal that will listen?” Astarion asked through fanged teeth, a loose threat gracing his tone. “For all I know, you could be her. Blasted Druids.”
And there it was - the reason he had to keep trying to speak to animals. Several years ago, the only person he had ever loved had left him. She had said that he had changed too much since his ascension, that he was scaring her.
As if he, a vampire, could ever scare her. She was a Druid from a Circle of Spores. During their time traveling together, he had watched her animate the corpses of her fallen foes then spread that undeath fate to the rest of the living until she emerged with an army. She had taken out an entire Githyanki Crêche with nothing but the quarterstaff on her back, a few frost spells, and her army of undead. If anyone should have been terrified, it was he of her.
But he always gravitated towards those powerful, at least in his memory. And she was the epitome of power and grace. She may not have been the strongest of their adventuring party, but there was something comforting to her level of power. Something natural, like earth's warm embrace.
Astsrion missed her more than he ever thought it possible to miss anyone. His heart aches in his chest whenever he hears footsteps approaching his house, and he checks the windows each time in hope that it is her.
“Just…” Astarion sighed. “If you know Lily, tell her I am trying to be better. Rabbits won't allow me to pet them, but I have helped the guards out. I'm not good at the whole ‘hero’ business, but if the right people point me at people who have done wrong, I can help out. Most times I don't even kill them.”
The squirrel danced down the tree and scooped up a peanut to nibble on, still kept away in its shell.
“What? Are you waiting for me to tell you my whole apology?” Astarion asked. He heard a crow caw in the distance. The noise sounded like mocking, it was insane surely, but it did.
“Lily - I am sorry for frightening you. I was intoxicated by having more power than I could have ever dreamt of that I forgot what freedom should be. I want to be free from my desire to always seek more power. I know it is not fair of me to ask, but I want your guidance. You… have always helped me. Kept me on the right track and all that.”
Another caw.
Astarion turned his head in time for the crow to glide down and disappear into a puff of magical feathers. Where it soared was the person he had missed so much.
Her green eyes sparkled with the same life that she had during their travels. He had not seen it since before they defeated the Netherbrain.
“Hey,” Her voice was but a whisper but carried in the wind. “Simon has told me about you. I had to see it for myself.”
“Simon?” He dared not turn to the squirrel, afraid she would disappear again.
A gentle smile graced her face. “Simon is a crow. The squirrel is Reginald III.” As if hearing his name, the squirrel began chittering. Lily nodded thoughtfully and said, “Reginald has… thoughts.”
Astarion curled his lip. “What have you heard?”
Lily took a slow step forward. While the smile was still there, her movements were careful. Deliberate. As if she was afraid to make any sudden movement in case he may pounce.
“Enough. You are not responding to my approach by flashing your daggers or teeth, so I can assume some of what I have heard is true.” She tilted her head. “How are you doing, Astarion?”
He paused. He couldn't just say what he felt. Darling, it's been dreadful. Being able to walk in the sun without your grace is not warm. There is an indescribable loneliness that no amount of bloodshed and debauchery could fill. Power was not worth the price paid.
Instead, he just responded with a court, “Fine.”
Lily stared at him, long and hard. If they still had their tadpoles, he was certain that she would be trying to read his mind. Her eyes flickered between his eyes and forehead to his hands and feet.
Astarion briefly remembered telling her that everyone has a tell when they're lying. Hers was that she would subconsciously braid her hair after the ordeal, as if she was weaving her lies into her very self to remember the story she made. She braided a lot towards the end of their time together.
She let out a sigh. “Astarion… You cannot expect me to believe that.”
Oh. Witty words that were always on the tip of his tongue faded away. Astarion felt it keenly, that terrible stillness as if the garden itself were holding its breath.
He wanted to laugh off her accusation, to say something cruel that would cut the tension in two. But the words refused to come. The truth sat in his chest like a stone: she knew. She always had.
Foolishly, ever since he drew the blade to her neck on the beach. She always approached him with a calm, cool, collected understanding. He supposed growing up with wild animals would do that to an indivdiual.
Lily whispered almost mercifully. “If you’re not going to talk to me, you may return speaking to the squirrels.”
Astarion ran a hand thorugh his hair as if the gesture might buy him some composure. It didn’t.
“How am I doing?” he repeated the question, sharp and too quick. “Well, let’s see. I’m practically rotting away in Cazador’s mansion. Every hallway whispers what I endured. Every corner reminds me of what I have lost and the monster the world sees me as. Ghosts make for dreadful company, Lily. They don’t answer back.”
“You have ghosts?” Lily asked.
He let out a short, brittle laugh. “No, darling. It’s a metaphor.”
“You don’t have to chain yourself to that place,” Lily said, her voice low and steady. “Baldur’s Gate is a sprawling city. You endured those walls as a prisoner, why keep them as your hall?” She hesitated, then added quieter still, “Maybe… Maybe if you left, you’d finally have space into the grow into the man you want to be.”
“You assume I want to be a hero,” he said, words quick and sharp as if speed could disguise the crack in his voice. His hands twitched. “Perhaps I’ve had enough of wanting. Perhaps this - rotting in luxury - is all I deserve.”
Lily’s gaze softened. No words came from her lips. Yet, she moved closer. Each step was deliberate, giving him time to stop her if he wished.
When she was near enough, she hestiated. Her hand hovering above him, unsure if the touch would soothe or wound. Astarion gazed at the hand and wished he could feel her warmth, even if it was in pity.
Astarion’s shoulders sagged, the sharp mask slipping from his face. His voice came out low, as if the words themselves might break him.
“I missed you, Lily. I know it shouldn’t fall on you to… encourage me to be better than what I was made to be. I‘m sorry I pushed you away.”
He did not dare look at her, not until he felt the warmth of her hand resting gently over his. No words, no judgement - just the quiet, simple anchor of her touch.
After a long moment, Lily said softly, “You are no longer bound to that house or anyone, Astarion. For better or for worse, each day and each choice within is yours to make. I’m sorry I had to leave, Astarion. Truly. And… I hope you find a way to be better.”
“Will you stay?” He asked too soon. Lily begun to slowly lift her hand, but Astarion reached a hand up and clapsed it down. “Please stay,” Astarion whispered.
“No… Not here. You can come with me. I found a quiet house on the border of town. It’s close enough to danger that you will not be bored, yet quiet enough that we can sleep in peace.”
A chittering was heard from above them in a tree.
Lily let out a light laugh. “I’m in agreement. That manor… it’s caused enough harm. Perhaps it’s time to return it to the earth, let it be consumed and renewed. There is no greater healing than letting the land reclaim what no longer serves.”
“How do you propose I do that?” Astarion asked.
Lily quirked up an eyebrow. “Why Astarion, I’m disappointed you do not know. As we’ve always done ith the truly monstrous,” she extended her free hand and a pale blue flame danced into being. “We let fire be the reckoning.”
Astarion quirked up an eyebrow. “I'll grab the wine.”