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Astarion doesn’t go off on his own terribly often these days, but he always seems to wind up in these situations when he does. These situations can be any number of things, but today, it’s dragging a half-elf teen out of a marsh where he was nearly eaten by redcaps. The boy’s shirt is in shreds and they’re both filthy with mud and muck and there’s grime under Astarion’s nails from where he’s fisted his hand in his shirt to drag him forward.
The boy is so loud.
“Where’d you learn to fight like that?” he asks. “You took the one’s head clean off–”
“Your head’s about to follow it,” Astarion mutters. A little louder, he says, “You are not worth the pittance your mother is offering for you.”
Normally, he wouldn’t have taken the job at all, but today isn’t like most days. Today marks a year since that night at the Crimson Palace, since Auri talked him down from ascension, since he killed all his ghosts–
Since he stole freedom.
Astarion hates work, but idle hands are a greater evil today. That’s what he tells himself as he thrusts the boy onto the stoop and makes to rap on the door.
“I live here,” says the boy, brushing himself off. “We can just go in.”
He might be able to. Astarion needs an invitation. And maybe the boy isn’t as stupid as Astarion thought, because he blinks as he opens the door. “Oh. Vampire. Of course. Do you want to come in?”
Astarion’s eyes widen. “Pardon?”
The boy squints at him as if he isn’t sure if Astarion’s making a joke. “Fangs? Bite marks? Pale as the moon? Your name might as well be Strahd.” He rolls his eyes and steps into the cottage. “Ma?” he calls, and there’s a clattering noise that Astarion can’t place the source of. It’s not surprising; it’s a disaster inside. Bits of fabric litter the place, dishes are undone in a washtub, and a used rag that looks as though it’s served time as a well-used handkerchief sits on the table.
A disheveled human woman comes crashing out of the clutter inside the home. “Feyaris? Feyaris, is that you?”
When she sees Feyaris, the woman bursts into tears. She wraps him in her arms, peppering kisses on his forehead even as he struggles to escape her grasp. “I can’t believe you put up a call to adventure to find me. I was totally fine–”
Astarion barks out a laugh, though he doesn’t step over the threshold. Feyaris hadn’t seemed put off by his undead status, but if things turn sour, Astarion would rather have a quicker escape route. The mother’s hair is dark but her smile is bright when she looks at Astarion. “Thank you so much. It’s an immeasurable kindness, you bringing him back to me. Won’t you come in? Let me at least interest you in breakfast.”
Breakfast .
Astarion hadn’t noticed it in the bog, but as soon as she names the meal, he can see cracks of weak sunlight filtering through the treetops. He frowns. It’s been ages since he’s been caught outdoors during the day, and he’s not looking forward to slinking through what little shade the trees afford.
“He can’t travel during the day, Ma,” Feyaris says, and Astarion’s mouth goes dry. “He can stay here till nightfall, right?”
Astarion might strangle him. Whether the boy takes issue with his vampirism or not is one thing. His mother, on the other hand–
“Oh. Of course. Come in.”
Astarion blinks, but she only looks briefly puzzled. She doesn’t question what Feyaris says, and Astarion can’t imagine why, but she says, “I’ve never met a friendly vampire before, but I suppose I’ve never met a vampire at all.”
Astarion freezes. “I don’t–”
But Feyaris laughs. “What gave it away for you?”
“No mortal’s that handsome,” she answers, winking. “And the bite marks, but mostly how handsome he is.”
Feyaris groans. “Ma–”
“Come in before you burn up, then.”
“It–” Astarion shakes his head. “You’re not worried I’ll kill you?”
“You brought my son back,” the woman says. “Why would you do that just to kill us both? Besides, you look well fed enough.” It’s naivete, but it’s also saving him from having to dodge the sun all day, so Astarion keeps his mouth shut. Or he does until she says, “I’m Kas. You?”
“Erm.” Astarion steps over the threshold into their home. “Astarion.”
“Astarion,” Kas repeats. “Lovely name.”
“Thanks?” The gratitude surprises him, slips out like a question.
Feyaris zips past into the chaos of the cottage, and Kas asks, “Can I get you anything? Tea? Water?”
“I– no, thank you.”
Kas grins. “Handsome, polite?” Astarion all but snorts at that. “Hard to believe you’re out here on your own.”
This family– “My partner stayed behind this time around, but she’s waiting at home.”
“Good.” Kas nods as if her approval should mean something to him. “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m not the most gracious of hosts. Tomorrow’s a market day. You’re welcome to stay as long as you need, but I don’t have time to entertain.”
“If you have time to spare the coin you promised, I’ll be out of your hair by nightfall.”
“Of course.” Kas drops a pouch before him on the table. “I’ll be in and out. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask; you’ve already done me a kindness, and I’d be remiss not to return the favor.”
Kindness.
The word echoes in his skull when Astarion sits at the table, pushing the rag to the side with a dagger. Feyaris tumbles back into the kitchen with the same recklessness he’d raced into another room, and Astarion cocks an eyebrow at his entrance. “Breakfast,” Feyaris says, unearthing a bread roll from the disaster of clutter on a shelf.
“You’re going to sleep, aren’t you? Hardly breaking a fast.”
Feyaris rolls his eyes. “What would you call it?”
“Daybreak indulgence?”
When Feyaris scoffs, crumbs fall from his mouth, the roll already halved. “Daybreak indulgence. Yeah. Really rolls off the tongue.”
He’s graceless and long-legged and Astarion doubts he has a brain. His lips twitch anyway as Feyaris trips and falls on his way to the place that he presumably sleeps. What would Astarion’s punishment have been, he wonders, if he had Feyaris’ attitude when the bars of the Crimson Palace still bound him?
There’s no point thinking about it. It’ll never happen again.
Feyaris snores loudly and Kas, though she seems to try, isn’t quiet either. She flits about, collecting produce and baked goods, and when the sun starts to creep in, she covers the window to shield him. Eventually, Astarion crosses his legs at the ankles, tilts his head back, and trances.
He shouldn’t trust them, probably, but Kas and Feyaris hardly seem to be trained killers, and if they try anything, Astarion has no doubt that he’ll be able to shake the trance in time to fend it off. He was up all night, too, after all.
There’s blood on his hand from the redcaps, and there’s no telling who it might have belonged to, once. A little rest won’t kill him.
His meditation is long, and it’s only interrupted when Kas sits down across from him at the table. She smiles at him apologetically. “Sorry for waking you. There isn’t a lot of room to maneuver in this house.”
Astarion blinks the rest of the trance from his eyes. “What time is it?”
“Sun’s going down in the next hour.” Kas lifts a half-empty bag onto the table. “Missing your partner?”
Astarion cocks an eyebrow. “What are you fishing for?”
There’s a cackle from the clutter at the back of the cottage, and Feyaris asks, “Be careful, Ma. If you make too much conversation, he’ll have to kill you. You’ll know too much.”
The paranoia Astarion cloaks himself in is older than Kas and Feyaris combined, but he sighs. “I miss her if I’m gone a second, much less a night. So it goes when one of us is immortal and the other isn’t.”
Kas makes a humming noise, and Feyaris zips past them out the door. “Getting water!”
Kas exhales through her nose, shaking her head. “That child. I might have to send you out for him again tonight.”
“I charge return customers double.”
“That seems backwards.”
“Your son is very annoying.”
If Kas takes offense to Astarion’s statement, she doesn’t show it. If anything, her smile’s affectionate, and she changes tack. “Is being with a mortal difficult?”
There’s a tempered sadness in Kas’ eyes, a wound long-healed, and Astarion answers the question by sidestepping it. “I doubt he was immortal, but I assume Feyaris’ elvish father thought it would be too difficult to watch you age.”
The bag is full enough that it can stand on its own on the table, and Kas laughs. “Am I so transparent? I was only curious.”
She loads pastry after pastry into the pack, and in the pause that follows, Astarion says, “Even a day with her is worth the eternity that I’ll miss her after she passes.”
“Hm.” The day’s grown long; Astarion can hear Feyaris outside even as Kas speaks. “Feyaris’ father loved us while he was here. I’ve learned to be grateful for that.”
“And, what? He just left?” Astarion scoffs. “He sounds like a prick.”
“It was a blessing for all of us, in a way, when we woke up one morning and he was gone. The pain of seeing us grow old as he stayed the same – we all would have suffered for it. I don’t expect you to understand. I can see it on your face – you’ve lived a hard life, but you have a kind soul. Feyaris’ father wasn’t like that. He was cold. And my son…” Kas’ eyes unfocus as if she’s drifting away, but she says, “Well. He takes after me. I’ll leave it at that.”
The only sound between them is Kas continuing to fill the pack, but her fingers shake. Astarion’s seen this play out with Auri a hundred times; when a sweet roll slips from Kas’ grasp, he catches it before it falls from the table. He tosses it from one hand to the other before placing it on top of everything else that Kas has packed, and she smiles. “Thank you.”
“What was his name?” Astarion asks.
The pack is all but overflowing. Kas cinches it at the top. “Feyaris’ father?”
Astarion nods.
But Kas only shakes her head. “Nice try, but there’s no wrong to be righted. I’m happy. Feyaris is happy. What good would it do to go finding a man who didn’t want us?”
They bid their farewells when the sun sets. “Don’t be a stranger,” Kas says. “And if you or your lover ever need a place to rest your heads, you’ll have one here.”
They won’t – Auri has friends everywhere, and it’s usually a matter of who won’t be offended if they choose to sleep elsewhere – but Astarion nods anyway, and Feyaris hands him his bag. When he turns his back, the door shuts behind him.
The bag, though, isn’t quite shut. Astarion only realizes after taking a few steps, when something falls to the marshy ground.
There’s a note and a small bundle. When Astarion opens the bundle, he finds one of the sweet rolls Kas packed for the market, and the note–
You mentioned you were supposed to come home last night and that your partner has a sweet tooth. A gift for her because you were so kind.
Astarion pockets the roll and the note flutters to the ground, but he doesn’t stop to pick it up. He just keeps walking as he smiles, but only because no one can see. Kind. It’ll take some time getting used to that descriptor. But he’s nothing if not adaptable.
The coin in his pocket makes it easier to swallow, too.
And if Astarion happens to find a deadbeat elven father on the trail somewhere, well–
He’s not that kind.
When Astarion returns to Auri, she greets him with a smile. “Welcome home! I was starting to get worried–”
He doesn’t answer with words; Astarion wraps her in his arms, and Auri exhales a laugh. “What’s this about?”
“I’ll always come back to you,” he mumbles into her hair. “I promise.”
She eats the sweet roll. She doesn’t leave a crumb behind.