Chapter Text
Astarion perused the jeweler’s wares with determined aloofness. The red-haired human running the shop watched him like a hawk, so Astarion kept his hands artfully clasped behind his back. The rogue had no interest in having accusations flung his way even if he knew he could work his own brand of magic to pluck any piece he wanted.
He was on a mission, and he would not be disturbed.
This was the sixth jewelry store he'd been to this week. He’d poured over dozens of rings of various sizes, jewels, and materials. None of them were what he needed.
Too large, too small. Too dull, too bright. Wrong color, wrong shade of the right color.
On and on he went. None of them had the right fit.
If he was going to propose to Tavali, the ring was damn well going to be perfect.
Everything had to be perfect. And he had a plan.
Her birthday was next month in mid-Eleasis. He was going to take her wherever she wanted to go, and do whatever she wanted to do, and then he was going to take her back to the house and ask her to marry him.
Details could be sorted out as he went. The most important pieces were ready.
Tavali had told him, in the early months after their victory over the Absolute and while Astarion had been reacquainting himself with his mortal body, that she didn’t want to get married too soon.
Tavali lay beside him in the bed, turned to face him with her right hand tucked beneath her chin and her left stroking over his right shoulder. In this position, only half of their faces were visible to each other: Her left and his right. The other halves were buried in their respective pillows.
She was telling him about the story she’d given their new neighbors: they were a young couple displaced by the Absolute. They had nothing to do with the Heroes of Baldur’s Gate, or the Absolute, or the half a dozen factions that had risen up in defense of the city. She’d given them anonymity in this new neighborhood while he recovered his mortal strength.
Said neighbors had assumed they were married and asked after any children. Tavali had let them know it was just the two of them, but Astarion noticed she hadn’t denied that they were wed.
“Is that something you want?” Astarion whispered. Tavali’s eye flicked back up to his, but he looked away from her to the collar line of her cream sleep shirt. “To be married?”
The question made him nervous. He wasn’t- he wasn’t opposed to the idea. He loved her, he didn’t want to separate. She’d said this relationship was what she wanted. But marriage? Wasn’t that too fast?
That wasn’t even getting into his reticence to ask for any other sort of godly blessing in his life. The first good thing any of them had done was give him his mortality back.
(Not counting Selûne coming through for them in the Shadow-Curse, but he usually didn’t. The goddess of the moon had clearly had her own agenda in that: namely, getting them to free her daughter.)
Tavali exhaled a chuckle through her nose.
“Maybe someday?” She shrugged, the blankets tugging a little along her waist. “But that’s not,” she trailed off briefly, shuffling herself on the bed. The sheets and blankets sighed against her body. “We’ve just been through hell and back,” she said, reaching up to stroke through his curls on the right side of his face. “You’ve only just gotten your freedom back,” Tavali continued into the hush of their bedroom. “We don’t need to make more life changing decisions so soon.” Her smile was a soft quirk, just barely set into her left cheek. “I love you. There’s no rush.”
Astarion reached up to take her hand, dragging it down to his lips to press them against the knuckles of her pinkie and ring fingers. He nodded into her hand, feeling like a knot he hadn’t realized was in his chest had loosened.
Tavali wouldn’t rush him. They had time.
Astarion had had enough time. They’d grown together for nearly two years without vampire lords or tadpoles bearing down on them. He loved her. She loved him. Tavali had said she wanted forever. She'd told him things about herself that no one else knew.
Astarion didn’t want to wait anymore. He’d spent two centuries waiting; waiting for freedom, for death, for something. He was done waiting. Life was moving again. It was moving faster, like his mortality had accelerated the way he counted down the minutes each day. He may be a high elf, but seven hundred years felt like nothing when a lonely eternity had been before him. And bless her, Tavali had made enormous leaps and strides in her druidism. He was confident that one day, she would be able to complete that ritual of Jaheira’s. He would not have to say goodbye to her in a hundred years. He would have her at his side until the end.
If she was willing to do that to be with him, surely it was fine to ask her to marry him. Right?
The only real problem he was having with his plan was that he couldn’t. Find. A damn. Ring.
It was so frustrating. He didn’t want to have to leave the city to find a good one, but he was starting to think that might be the best course of action. Perhaps he could convince Tavali that they needed to make an impromptu trip to Waterdeep? Not that Astarion wanted to risk Gale getting involved in his plans, but the City of Splendors was a veritable cauldron of art and fashion. Maybe it would be worth it-
“Looking for something in particular, young man?”
Astarion jump several inches into the air at the familiar female voice that had somehow come from directly behind his left ear. His left hand swatted reflexively at the speaker even as his brain caught up and identified who it was.
“You rotten,” he spat and turned around to face her.
Jaheira backed away from his flailing hand and smiled smugly at him. “Getting sloppy, rogue.”
“Getting irksome, Harper,” he hissed back, pressing his left hand over his chest where his heart pounded. “Dangerously so, for you.”
Jaheira snorted. “The day you can land a hit on me is the day I know it’s time to retire.”
Astarion narrowed his eyes and scowled down at her. “Strong words for a woman who never had to face me in a real fight.”
Jaheira didn’t answer, striding to Astarion’s left and peering into the glass display case behind him. “So what are you looking for?” Jaheira asked, a knowing glint in her eyes.
Astarion blinked, looked around the shop, and then glanced at the cabinet filled entirely with rings behind him.
Godsdammit.
“Nothing in particular,” he fibbed, taking a step to the right to get away from the rings.
Unfortunately, that just gave Jaheira more room to inspect them. Astarion swallowed awkwardly and shifted on his feet. He glanced at the door on the opposite end of the shop. He could probably just walk out and keep going. He didn't have to talk to her about this.
“Well then, if you're done wasting the man's time,” Jaheira gave a jerky nod toward the redhead who'd moved behind his counter to keep them both in sight, “perhaps you can come grab a drink with me instead.”
Gods. Damn it.
That found him sitting in a sticky wooden seat at some nameless pub not far from the gates of the Upper City. Jaheira sat across from him facing the exit to the south while he faced the bar and door to the kitchens. The lattice window on his left faced the west. If he looked through the old and cloudy glass, the views of the Chionthar and afternoon sun were mostly blocked by other buildings.
“So,” Jaheira raised her glass of wine as the waiter bustled away to give them a semblance of privacy. “Looking at rings, are you?”
Astarion pursed his lips before taking a sip of the dry red Jaheira had selected for this conversation. The druid was still waiting for an answer after he swallowed.
Astarion scowled. “How'd you even find me in there?”
Jaheira smirked. “A training exercise for one of my latest recruits. Follow the pale elf, don't get caught, and report back. She happily told me of the various jewelry stores you visited the last two days.”
Astarion glared in affront for a moment. Then he returned a mean smirk at the Harper. “The half-elf with brown hair in a top knot. Wore maroon leathers and had a basic bow on her back. Needs to work on her pacing to stay far enough away but keep me in sight.”
Jaheira pouted. “Ah. I shall have to let her know she did not do as well as she originally claimed.”
“I came this close,” Astarion lifted his right hand up to hold his index finger and thumb an inch apart, “to losing her in an alley and then cornering her myself. Thought she was some Guild dolt trying to get the drop on me. The only reason I didn't is because I thought eventually she'd make a move and then I would have the pleasure of claiming self-defense.”
The gray-haired woman snorted.
“Since when did I volunteer to be bait for your little spy network?” Astarion complained, leaning back in his chair.
“Well,” Jaheira drawled. “If you volunteered and knew it was coming, it would hardly be a fair test, would it?”
Astarion rolled his eyes and took another sip of his wine. Decent enough quality, he thought absently. She doesn't really want me to be cross with her, apparently.
“But returning to the matter at hand,” Jaheira went on, “have you managed to find one you like for her?”
Astarion's lips twisted and he turned toward the unhelpful window. He debated putting up a pretense at ignorance. He could pretend he didn't know what the elderly half-elf was talking about. He could pretend his hours of looking through jewelry cases were unrelated to the woman he lived with.
But it honestly sounds exhausting. Who cares if she gets the satisfaction?
“None that were quite right, no.” Astarion didn't look at the druid as he spoke. He took another sip of the red as he traced one diamond lattice with his eyes. “I'm certainly not going to settle for ‘good enough’ in this of all things.”
Jaheira hummed from across the table. “And what are you looking for?”
Astarion glowered into his goblet. “I'm not looking for anything in particular. I'll know the right one for her when I see it. I just,” he waved his right hand distractedly, “haven't yet.”
“I see,” Jaheira replied graciously. “You'll know it when you see it.” The Harper took a long sip of her wine. “But I assume you have some ideas?”
Twisting his lips, Astarion swirled his wine as he thought back on the last week.
“Gold, preferably. It looks better on her than silver.” Warm tones in general suited her best. “A green stone, if I can find the right shade. Emeralds aren't right. Neither is jade.” Even if the latter stone could match her mother's earrings, he wanted it to match her eyes. “Nothing too ostentatious or she won't want to wear it. But not so simple it looks plain,” he ticked off his requirements on his right fingers. “Sounds simple enough,” Astarion groused with a flick of his wrist. “And yet I've found nothing.” He let his hand close into a loose fist and land on the table with a quiet thump. The rogue took a large swallow from his goblet.
Jaheira said nothing for a few long moments. Astarion rolled the wine over his tongue to drag out both the taste and the silence.
“Well, if you're willing, I might be able to help.”
Astarion looked up at her from his glass. He raised both eyebrows. “Oh? Got a secret jewelry shop for Harpers?” He asked, more plaintively than he'd meant to.
“Why don’t you,” Jaheira said calmly, “take a look at this instead?” The druid reached down and pulled something out from beneath the wooden table.
Astarion looked down at Jaheira's right hand. She was holding a small brown pouch in her palm.
Cautiously, the high elf reached out and plucked it from her. He set his wine glass to the side beside the window and set both elbows and forearms on the table to inspect the parcel.
The strings came undone easily and revealed a small wooden box inside the bag. It was old and weathered with a rough finish. The hinges barely held the lid to the base as he opened it.
There was a ring sitting in an ancient yellowed cushion. Astarion lifted it out carefully to inspect it.
The face was an oval of white mother of pearl on a gold band. Delicate gold filigree wound around the surface. It looked like the outline of a flower with four tridents meeting in the middle. There were two little clasps left in the center that might have once held a jewel.
It was lovely. It was almost damnably perfect.
The rogue swallowed. “Where’d you pick this up?” Astarion asked, keeping his voice light and airy. He pinched the band between his left index finger and thumb.
“It was a present from my husband,” Jaheira said matter-of-factly.
Astarion blinked and looked between her and the ring. His lips pursed and his insides squirmed with rarely felt guilt for his initial flippancy.
“It was enchanted. There used to be a gem in the center there,” she pointed. “A sapphire.”
Astarion looked back at the gap in the center of the ring.
“It gave me a temporary boost to my healing spells.” Jaheira went on. “The foolish man would never tell me what he paid for it, and he wasn’t the type to condone stealing. Whatever it was, he was swindled.” Her lips quirked to the side as she spoke. “When I used the enchantment just once, the sapphire dissolved and the enchantment could not be called upon again. I tossed it into a sack to pawn the next chance I got and told him not to buy me any more silly presents.” Jaheira’s face, lit with the memory, took on a more somber cast. “Then we were captured by Jon Irenicus, and it became one of the last things he gave me.”
Astarion’s gut churned in recognition of the story she had told him and Tavali of her husband's fate. He looked down at his hand instead of focusing on the ring. “Why offer it to me?” He asked self-consciously.
The druid didn’t immediately answer, so Astarion looked at her through his lashes.
Jaheira shook off her temporary melancholy and smirked at him. “Because you are going to ask Tavali to marry you, and she will love that ring.”
Astarion’s lips pulled in a moue. “How are you so sure?” He asked a little petulantly. It was a beautiful ring and Tavali probably would love it, but why did Jaheira know that so well?
Jaheira tipped her head back and laughed. “Give it to your partner, and see what she says. I think she will understand immediately what it reminds her of.”
Astarion turned the face of the ring toward himself again. He didn't see the answer to Jaheira's apparent riddle in the pearly oval.
“Thank you,” the high elf finally said stiffly. He put the ring back into the case and snapped it shut. “I- thank you,” he said more genuinely with a nod of his head. “What is the payment?”
Jaheira waved her right hand and leaned back in her chair. She put her right elbow over the low backrest. “You're getting a bauble out of my house in a way that doesn't make me feel guilty. Consider it paid off.”
Astarion chuckled once. “That seems remarkably cheap for what you're giving me.”
Jaheira was quiet, just sitting there with her head cocked toward him. The silence dragged long enough that Astarion inhaled and straightened, ready to make a quick departure.
But then the druid spoke again.
“When we first met, I was convinced Tavali was a fool who let a manipulative vampire into her heart,” Jaheira said softly but bluntly. Astarion blinked, reeling back slightly as he looked at her again. “You won’t blame me for that, I trust.” She didn’t wait for an answer. “But it didn’t take me long to realize there was more to it than that. More to you.” Jaheira rolled her shoulders. “I’ve seen many similarities between us,” she grinned slightly at his disbelieving look, “as unlikely as you might think that is.” Jaheira’s eyes were dark. “I learned very young what fear or hunger can drive people to do. I’ve done some of it.”
Astarion kept staring at her, feeling wrapped in a spell woven by her honest words.
“Even once I joined the Harpers, I was never the best when it came to our purpose. I focused on trying to be content with ‘well, that was not so bad as it could have been.’ I left the deep thinking to others.” Jaheira leaned her head back a little. “I am still never certain what ‘the greater good’ means.” She looked at the little bag with the ring again. “I do not know that you will ever do the right thing purely because it is the right thing. Life has a way of beating that out of us.” Her words made his lips purse again. She wasn’t wrong. “But,” she drew her hazel eyes back up to meet his. “A hundred years ago, I fell in love with someone who always did. And I found,” her gaze pierced him, rooting him to the spot, “that that was almost the same thing.”
There was, to Astarion horror, the slightest catch in Jaheira’s voice. Astarion himself swallowed, feeling an unwelcome echoing tightness in his throat. He opened his mouth slightly to breath.
“So I am rooting for you two, you see.” She said with an easy grin that belied the heavier tone their conversation had taken. “The cynic and the believer.” Jaheira raised both her eyebrows in challenge. “I hope you make it.”
Astarion closed his parted lips and rolled them over his teeth.
Jaheira looked away from him and took up her goblet again. This time she took a healthy swig.
“Well,” Astarion said, forcing his tone to be blasé. “Not everyone can say they have such stalwart support.” Tavali would be unabashedly flushed and teary eyed if she'd heard that little speech. Astarion couldn’t decide if he was glad or not that she hadn’t. His sorcerer valued Jaheira's opinion quite highly and made no secret of it.
The high half-elf hummed into her wine. “Always nice to be appreciated,” she said lightly.
Astarion lifted his own goblet and toasted that.
They both continued drinking more subduedly. A few minutes of companionable silence passed before Jaheira reclined back in her chair and looked at him.
“Let's get out of here. On the way back down, you can tell me your plan for how you're going to pop the question.”
Astarion preened and smiled. “Hopefully I can have the ring fixed quickly. I'm asking next month.”
Jaheira checked her glass on its way to her mouth. She looked at him steadily for a moment before polishing off her wine.
“Do not propose,” Jaheira said lightly as they rose headed toward the door, “on her birthday.”
Astarion looked away from the small canvas pouch in his hand. He frowned at the elderly woman. “Why not?” He asked, perturbed and a little annoyed again. How did she know that was my plan? Miserable, nosy old bat.
Jaheira cocked her left eyebrow at him. “I do know it’s next month. But don’t use it as an excuse. Get her a present like normal, or whatever it is you usually do. Don’t make her birthday about you proposing.” Jaheira nodded to the ring. “Let that have its own moment on its own day.”
Astarion pouted. “You’re awfully helpful today,” he said a little sulkily, though he certainly couldn’t afford to be too peevish. The wretched woman had, after all, given him the perfect ring. He supposed that earned her some grace.
“I'm always helpful,” the old woman quipped back cheerily. “And on that note, you'll want a skilled craftsman to repair that missing jewel. Clasps can be delicate.”
Astarion nodded easily. “I'll pay a visit to the Gondians or the Ironhand. They've plenty of craftsmen to go around lately.” He smiled confidently. “And they like us. They'll do a good job of it, I'm sure.”
“Smart.” Jaheira nodded in approval as they passed through the pub doors. “Get something purple.”
Astarion stopped at the bottom of the steps before they entered the flow of pedestrians walking by. It was true Tavali favored purple, but that wasn’t what he’d had in mind. “Her eyes are green. She likes to mix green with everything she wears.” the rogue disagreed.
Jaheira rolled her eyes to the late afternoon sky. “Her favorite color is green paired with another color because she leans into the stereotype about wood elves and flowers.” Astarion simultaneously sniffed and fought a grin at her quick and apt description. He knew that. He didn’t need her to spell it out. “I know you already know that.” For godssake stop damn near reading my mind! I've had enough of that! “I know you know her well and think green is the obvious choice. And that's why I'm telling you purple, not green. She doesn’t want to see her own eyes reflected back at her.” Jaheira shoved his right arm lightly with her left arm. “She will want to see you.” Astarion flexed his throat at those words before coughing to clear it again. He blinked his aforementioned dark violet eyes. “Find a purple gem. Something dark, and not too bright.” The high elf looked at the druid again, feeling mildly offended while still processing her words. She snorted at whatever look he gave her. “You are no vibrant amethyst, my friend. Your eyes have too much gray in them. Try alexandrite, maybe. Or see what the jewelers say. But if you put a gem in that ring, make it match yourself. Surely you’ve enough vanity to manage that?” Jaheira poked at him.
Astarion scoffed. “Fine, fine. I will find something purple.” He gave her a mocking glare. “This is my proposal, you know. Much as I appreciate the ring and advice, you’re very bossy.”
Jaheira only laughed and kept walking.