Chapter Text
Astarion has worn a divot into the library settee from sitting in it so much. He’s nestled in it now, trashy romance book in hand. When Resilience is asleep, he spends most of his time here.
His lover’s personal library is huge, like the rest of her home. The massive bookshelves span from floor to ceiling, green wall paneling peeking between the chocolate wood. The library makes up the entirety of the top floor of the estate, which in some ways resembles a wizard’s tower more than the home of a patriar.
A great deal of her collection is too dry for him - magical theory and spellcrafting, but there’s plenty of books on culture, society, and history as well. Those he enjoys, as well as the relatively small collection of fiction.
Of the fiction, pulp romance makes up a significant percentage, and he’s currently working his way through "The Charming Cavalier," a sordid lesbian romance about a knight and a necromancer.
During their journey, it had been a point of debate, whether the romance collection their tiefling leader spoke of was real or not. Astarion had been right, and had won a handful of gold when he showed "In Lieu Of Flowers" to the group, those who had still been around at that point. He had wanted most to show it to Karlach, but she’s in Avernus now with Wyll. Of everyone, Astarion misses her the most.
For now, he lounges on a settee by the window, turning to the next page of his book. The curtains are open, though the moonlight they’d let through earlier in the night has dissipated as the horizon starts to turn a lighter shade of blue - the sun should be rising within the hour.
The vampire sets his book down on the velvet cushions and stands, stretching like a cat. He treads over to the open curtains, and the glass doors behind them, pushing one open and walking out onto the eastern balcony.
This view always takes his breath away. From here he can see the entire eastern half of the city’s crescent, and to the Chionthar beyond. Resilience’s home is situated just past the Heap Gate, not far from The Wide, and the lower city is spread out before him. Even with all the damage sustained during The Absolute’s assault on the city, it’s beautiful. It’s home.
The Upper City has sustained far more damage, and Astarion is glad the awful view is on the other side of the house. Much of the debris has been cleared away and rebuilding was well underway, but it is not beautiful as it once was.
Comparatively, the Lower City is in better shape, if plagued by unrest and struggles to find housing for all of the refugees. The city is on a long path towards healing and rebuilding. With Duke Ulder Ravenguard restored to his previous position, the gates have long since been reopened to refugees, and with no shortage of jobs for the new Baldurians, who are helping to rebuild.
Housing is the main issue facing the city now. The death toll had helped to offset the surge in citizens as refugees had flooded into the city, the houses that stood empty had been filled quickly, in the lower city. There are still empty houses in the Upper City.
Most, if not all, of the dead have been accounted for now, in the tendays since it all happened. With his partner playing such a large part in the rebuilding effort, Astarion has also played a larger role than he had expected to. Early on, he’d gotten his hands dirty digging through rubble and searching for survivors, handling the dead and assisting at the mortuary.
From there, he’d only gotten more involved.
Of their original group, only himself, Resilience, Jaheira, and Minsc remain in the city.
Shadowheart had been the last to leave, working for a tenday with other healers and clerics to tend to the wounded, and a few more tenday after that to remain close and help their leader.
Her departure was bittersweet. She wanted to see the world, travel, find herself. Astarion misses her, misses the whole group and the way things were on the road. He does not miss sleeping in a tent.
More than anything, he misses the sun’s warmth on his skin.
The same sun that is threatening now to peak over the horizon had burned him a few mornings past in a moment of stupidity that he will never reveal to anyone.
Any longer, and he’ll have a repeat of that morning, so he slips back into the library and draws the curtains closed. The pain was a lesson, he won’t be making that mistake again.
His lonesome lingering is interrupted by a soft “mrrp” behind him. He turns and finds the cat weaving between his companion's legs. Grub almost never leaves her side, attached to her legs like a burr. Astarion has seen Yenna without Grub, but never Grub without Yenna.
“I’m sorry for interrupting, Mr. Astarion.” Yenna clutches a book close to her chest. “Miss Resilience said that I could come up here and get a new book when I finished my last one.”
Astarion waves his hand dismissively. “You’re interrupting nothing, Darling.”
Even if he had tried, he wouldn’t have been able to dissuade his lover from adopting the vagrant child and her cat. He’d known it was coming, before she’d even broached the topic with him. He saw the way Resilience looked when the girl had first mentioned her mum, and had heard the way she spoke of her own daughter. That doesn’t mean he’s thrilled about the situation, but he doesn’t begrudge Yenna. He just feels awkward as hell around her.
“Oh, good.” She grins, “I was just going to go make breakfast, would you like to join me?”
Astarion thinks it quite the odd request - she’s familiar with what he is.
“You know I can’t eat food, right?”
The vampire can sense the rush of blood to her face as she shrinks in on herself. “You’re right, that was a dumb suggestion.”
His face softens. Does she want to spend time with him? How sweet. “I can come down to the kitchen with you if you’d like.”
She brightens, and her smile tugs on Astarion’s heart, “Okay! Only if you want to, though!”
“I’m not doing anything else.”
The two of them leave the library together, Astarion pulls open the hidden bookshelf door (Yenna and he had been similarly excited at its discovery) and lets her go first.
The pass through the next level, which is taken up in its entirety by Resilience’ bedroom and private bath. When he’d gone up to the library, she had been in the bed, her absence tells Astarion she’s most likely bathing. He considers telling the kid to scram so that he can go and join her, but doesn’t.
Grub leads the way, and looks back to make sure they’re following, scampering down the next flight of stairs ahead of them. The damn cat is still absolutely terrified of Astarion, and he absolutely takes it personally, even though Grub is afraid of everything. He’s been thinking about finding another cat to sneak into the house, one who will sit on him and purr. Maybe it would even coax Grub out of his shell.
The manor is a nightmare for anyone who might be out of shape or otherwise unable to go up and down a million bloody stairs. It’s another flight of them that leads to the main hall on the ground floor. The house is grand, and the main hall most of all. Astarion had never cared for the frankly boring snobbery of the Gate’s upper class - but their stuff? He likes their stuff, and he likes having it for himself even more.
The kitchen and dining room feel small for what Astarion would expect from an Upper City manor. The dining table seats eight, and the kitchen is only comfortable for two or three people, not a host of servants making preparations. Resilience had inherited it from a former client, a reclusive wizard with no heirs from a line of patriars. She doesn’t talk about him much.
Resilience has complained about not having the appropriate space to host grand parties, but Astarion is fine not having to play host to a bunch of strangers. He enjoys the fancy parties they go to, as a guest.
He follows the girl into the kitchen. It’s nice despite the size. Connected is an octagonal pantry with an icebox and extra food, not as well stocked as it was built for. Astarion doesn’t eat, so it only needs to feed Len, Yenna, and the occasional guest.
To the left, above the stove and counter, there’s a beautiful blue scene of the city painted on white tile. In the middle is an island bar, a bowl with a couple of pieces of fruit left on top, and a stash of liquor on the bottom shelf.
Yenna gets to work straight away. She’s the only one who uses the kitchen regularly, so the things she needs most commonly have all been moved within her reach.
“What are you making?” Astarion asks, cutting the awkward silence.
“Pancakes!” She says excitedly, placing a mixing bowl on the counter, with the eggs and milk that she’d already taken from the icebox. “Did you ever eat a pancake, Mr. Astarion?”
”I’m sure I had them a time or two. I don’t think they’d be very nutritious to me now.”
She cracks the eggs into a mixing bowl, “I don’t think they’re super nutritious to anyone, but they are delicious.”
Once the batter has been whipped up, Yenna starts the flame and puts the iron pan on top before pouring the batter in an incredibly neat circle inside. Astarion wouldn’t trust most children with an open flame, but Yenna is far more experienced with cooking than any adult in the house, and she’d cooked over the campfire for them in Rivington.
“I’d feel bad if I don’t offer you a pancake.”
Astarion guffaws, “You know I can’t eat it.”
”I know. My mum just taught me it’s not right to eat in front of someone without offering ‘em some. You never know when folks have gone too long without.”
”That’s very sweet of you, but I will have to decline. Looks like you get all the pancakes to yourself this morning.”
“I’ll save some for Miss Resilience, too.”
”Good.”
Astarion reaches down to hold a hand out for Grub to sniff, noticing that the cat has ventured out from his hideout between the girl’s legs. Even though he’s marginally less terrified of everyone and everything than he had been, he still shirks away from the vampire to retreat to his safe harbor between Yenna’s legs.
“Why is that cat so scared of everything, anyway?” He asks, trying not to take it personally.
Yenna adds a pancake to the growing stack. “I don’t know the whole story, but I think the people who had him before were real mean. He was so skinny when I found him, and he was real jumpy then. I took him home and me and my mum made food for him and he started to come around to us. I’ve never seen him like anyone else though. He was even pretty scared around mum.” She shrugs, “I think whatever happened to him before must have been awful.”
”Have you ever tried talking to him?”
Yenna tilts her head, “I talk to him all the time.”
”I mean, in a way where he can talk back. We picked up so many potions to speak with animals on our journey - I’m sure there’s still some around.”
”Oh! No I haven’t. Miss Karlach did once though, she told me he really likes me. I knew that already but it was still real nice.”
”He’d probably open up more to you. Maybe you could ask him to let me pet him.” Astarion wonders if cats benefit from talking about their feelings, the way that people do.
The girl laughs, bending down to offer her hand to the cat, which he gladly rubs a cheek against. She scratches him behind the ears and gives him a little kiss on the snout. “I could ask, but I think it would be better if you’re friends with him first.”
”And how am I meant to be friends with a creature that refuses to let me?”
”Very slowly.” Yenna says. “He won’t be comfortable right away. You have to be patient with him. It took him a long time to like my mom.”
Astarion regards the cat, who’s started to groom himself. He’s never had a cat of his own, but he’s always liked them. He’d met quite a few during his days, always excited when a mark had one, though he hated robbing them of their people. He
Gods damn it, he’s going to be friends with this cat if it’s the last thing he does.
“It would be nice to talk to him, though!” Yenna turns off the flame, done with her breakfast-making. “I have so many things I want to ask him!”
”I’ll see if I can find one of those potions for you, then.”
”What potion?” Says a voice from the kitchen entrance.
Astarion looks up to see his partner, who's leaning against the wall, looking radiant as always. Her mossy skin is damp from her bath, thick long hair loosely braided and piled on top of her head, some of it wrapped around the base of her black horns. Her dragon blood shines in the form of green scales on her cheeks. She's wearing a simple lilac dress that drapes delicately across her shoulders and the swell of her breasts.
”Miss Resilience! I made you breakfast!”
”It smells delicious, Yenna. Thank you very kindly.” She smiles, the wrinkles around her eyes and lips crinkling.
The girl picks up the plated stack of pancakes and marches it over to the dining room.
”Speak with animals.” Astarion answers her question, “She wants to talk to Grub.”
Resilience grabs a couple of plates and some silverware and flashes him a sharp grin. “Oh, that’s a sweet idea.” Her and Astarion join Yenna at the dining table, where the girl is already sitting at the head of the table. Resilience takes a seat catty corner to her and after a moment of hesitation, Astarion sits on the other side.
The curtains are drawn of course, but just like almost every other room in the house, there are a lot of windows, and he can see a bit of light peeking through. He doesn’t have a regular trance cycle - he never really has, and now that he lives with someone with a fairly standard nightly sleep schedule, he’s tried to adapt it to her. Much of the time he’ll try to time it so that he either goes to bed or gets out of bed with her, but it’s hard when that limits the amount of night he gets to enjoy.
They’ve attended a few social gatherings in the evening - as it turns out, Resilience is known for organizing and attending charity events, designed to get rich patriars to put their money into programs to help the lower city, and these have continued even after the Netherbrain. If anything, Resilience is much more involved in politics than she was before. These parties are usually the only times that they are able to go out together, and the days are only getting longer as Baldur’s Gate creeps towards summer.
“Do you miss food, Mr. Astarion?” Yenna’s sudden question takes Astarion’s gaze from the sliver of sunlight in the corner.
He scowls a little - kids really are something else. So curious, unafraid to ask questions. One of many things he dislikes about them.
”It’s been two hundred years since I’ve even tasted food. I don’t even remember what it tastes like.”
”Does that mean you can’t miss it? Do you remember if there was something you liked to eat.”
Astarion leans back in his chair and thinks about it. His lover casts him a sympathetic look.
”I liked these goat meat hand pies,” He remembered, “There was a food cart on my way to work at court that I’d stop by to get them at. I don’t really remember the taste, but I got one most days, and sometimes on my way home if it had been a particularly shit day.”
”I wonder if the cart is still there! I want to try it!”
”I think you’d like them, you certainly have a sophisticated palate. It isn’t there anymore, though. It has been a couple of centuries, and the cook was a human.”
Yenna looks thoughtful as she chews on her food. When she’s swallowed, “Did you ever have pancakes?”
”Of course I did. They were fine, I think. I’m sure if I’d had yours, I’d actually remember them. Your pancakes certainly smell delicious.”
When he sees the way Resilience smiles, he realizes he’s being nice. Horrible for his image.
But the way Yenna beams at him makes it worth it.
”You’re right, Yenna’s pancakes are worth remembering.” Len chimes in.
The girl wiggles in her seat. “I got the recipe from mum! She worked at a little bed and breakfast and made them all the time, and they were the best, so she taught me how to make them!”
”Are all of your recipes from her?”
”Most of them, but she taught me the basics and how to improvise, so I’ve made a few recipes myself!”
”Your mother must have been very proud of you, following in her footsteps the way you are.” There’s a hint of sadness in her voice, but also pride.
”Yeah.” Yenna says, poking her pancake with her fork, “She really liked to share her love for cooking with me. She loved to feed people, and I do too. It’s nice.”
Resilience reaches over, placing a green hand on Yenna’s arm. “You’re doing a great job of it so far. You know what you’re doing down at the soup kitchen, helping feed people, it’s really incredible.”
Yenna mops up the last of the syrup on her plate with her final bite of pancake, “It isn’t any more than anyone else is doing.”
”Maybe so, but it’s still very admirable. I’m proud of you, and your mother would be impressed.”
The adults’ eyes meet across the table. Yenna isn’t the only kid out there helping. In some ways, they’ve been throwing themselves into the hard work more than adults. The tiefling had been a little reluctant about it at first, and the first few days Yenna had gone off on her own to help out at the volunteer soup kitchen, Len had been worried sick, but after a few days she had calmed. She’d had much less supervision as a child and had turned out okay, but she’s protective of the girl.
”Yes, it’s definitely what she would have done.” Yenna agrees, and stands from her chair, holding her now empty plate. “Speaking of that, I need to get ready to go!”
”Let me take care of the washing up, Love.” Resilience says, taking the plate from her. “You go on and get ready.”
”Thank you!” And she’s off down the hall, cat in tow.
Len watches her leave, but Astarion watches Grub slink after her. The only time those two are apart is when Yenna is down at the soup kitchen. He’s sure the cat would follow her there if it weren’t for the crowd.
“That girl’s incredible,” Resilience sighs, Astarion recognizes the tone as the way she talks about her own daughter: the biological one. She’d taken very easily to caring for Yenna, because she has experience.
She doesn’t talk about Felicity much, but Astarion knows she left with her father shortly before Resilience had been taken by mindflayers. She comes up more now that they are living in the home where she’d spent most of her first sixteen years of life. There are signs of her everywhere. Yenna sleeps in her old room.
”Of all the people to find that girl, she’s incredibly lucky it was you.” He says.
”I’m glad it was us.”
”Us.” Astarion scoffs, “I don’t see how I factor in, I’m just here.” He’s not really trying to be a father figure to Yenna, he knows he isn’t suited to it. The girl had become a package deal with Resilience, and he wasn’t giving up his lover for anything. She’s fiercely protective of the girl, if it hadn’t already been a done deal, the incident with Orin had sealed it.
Len leans towards him, “You know, I never asked to be a mom. I had every intention of terminating my pregnancy for a while. Her dad wanted me to, and I didn’t think my profession was a good environment to raise a kid in. Not to mention, my relationship with her father was already on the way out by that point.”
”He sounds like a prick.” Astarion says with venom.
She laughs, “He absolutely can be. I’d like to hope he’s improved over the last decade or so.” Her eyes meet his, warm amber against solid black,
“I guess you have a type.”
She grins, “I didn’t want to say it… but I’ve been told I have bad taste. I don’t think that’s fair to you, though. You are considerably less difficult than him. He does have his own trauma, and I feel for him, but he couldn’t recognize his issues, he didn’t work on them, and he didn’t let me support him the way he needed.”
Astarion shrinks into himself a little, “That does sound like me.”
”Don’t sell yourself short, my love. When I met you, you were barely one day free of Cazador.” She reaches over and puts a hand on his. “The amount of growth I have seen from you in such a short amount of time is nothing short of spectacular.”
Her words seep into him and burn underneath his skin. They ring true - a year ago, he would not recognize the man he is today. Seven months ago he had laughed over the idea of becoming a better man than Cazador.
“Sometimes, just allowing yourself to heal is the hardest part.” She’s shifted into the seat Yenna had been in, and her knee touches his, and her fingers thread in between his, rubbing his knuckle.
Her words are too saccharine sometimes, but they are honest and that overwhelms him. He leans in and kisses her, she returns it eagerly, holding his jaw in her hand.
”I didn’t get breakfast, you know.” He says with a grin when they part.
She gives him a good-natured eye roll, but tilts her head and brushes her hair out of the way. “I have a lot to do today, so not too much, please.”
He brushes his lip across the soft exposed skin. “I’ll be fine without, if you’d prefer I don’t.” He is hungrier than he lets on - it’s been more difficult to feed regularly now that they’re back in the city. Resilience is his main source, but he’s sworn off feeding on innocent people, and folks would notice if a lot of people ended up with bite marks. He will never feed off of a rodent again, so when he hunts, he must do so outside of the city. It requires so much walking, and of course he can only travel at night.
”No, Love.” Resilience says, “Go ahead and drink.”
He does not need to be told a third time. His fangs sink in and he drinks deeply of her, but briefly, before making himself pull away. He licks his chops; he deserves some sort of reward for being able to control himself with her sweet taste.
”Better than pancakes?”
”Better than pancakes, but don’t tell the girl. Busy day today, then?”
”Jaheira asked for my help with something, and then I’m heading uptown for a meeting with Ravenguard.”
”Sounds exciting. I’ll be here, doing nothing - Oh, I’ll deal with those, you go and do your thing.” He takes the dishes from her.
She gives him a kiss on the forehead, he closes his eyes and leans into the touch that is gone too soon. “I’ll be back in the evening. Try not to get into too much trouble.”
”No promises, darling. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
”No promises.”