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After defeating the Netherbrain, the warm yellow glow of the rising sun is a beautiful and terrible sight.
For one brief glorious moment, Astarion exhales a relieved and dumbfounded laugh as he and the others realize that they’ve actually done it– that they’ve somehow miraculously freed themselves from the tadpoles in their brains and liberated Baldur’s Gate from perpetual slavery.
And then an acute explosion of pain hits Astarion as his skin begins to burn.
Nobody notices at first when he sprints for the safety of the shadows. He watches from a dark alleyway while the others continue to cheer and hug and celebrate. His smile is only half-forced; it’s not like his regression back into a weak vampire spawn is unexpected, and it’s not like he regrets sacrificing his chance at obtaining raw power.
He is proud of what little part he had in ending the war.
Halsin searches for him first, which is not a surprise. Neither is the passionate kiss he pulls Astarion into, nor the soft yet sad look in his earnest hazel eyes as they pull back.
“I must go to Reithwin,” Halsin says in an apologetic tone as he runs his calloused fingers through Astarion’s curls.
“Of course you do, darling,” Astarion purrs, his sharp grin now entirely forced.
Ask me to go with you, he internally begs. Please, don’t leave me just when I’ve learned how to love and be loved again .
“You must be excited,” he says instead, leaning into Halsin’s touch as he cups his face. “And desperate to help restore the lands now that the Shadow Curse is lifted.”
I can tell he has already moved on. His mind is elsewhere. He is eager for the next adventure. For the next… partner.
“I am,” Halsin admits with a sheepish smile. “But I am truly grateful for our time together, my heart. I hope our paths cross again someday.”
“Me too,” Astarions says, closing his eyes. He feels Halsin’s free hand squeeze his waist before leaning in for another kiss. The kiss somehow feels endless yet way too short; the kiss is a familiar comfort to Astarion, but also a newfound source of distress and tension.
This is our last kiss .
“I love you, my heart.”
Astarion can barely hear his own quiet voice when he responds. “I love you, Halsin.”
When Astarion opens his eyes, Halsin is gone.
50 YEARS LATER
It took a godsdamned half-century to figure out a way to walk through the world in the daytime but perhaps in the grand scheme of things that isn’t a terribly long time for an elf, vampire spawn or not.
The Ring of the Sun-Walker looks deceptively simple– a plain iron band with a single blood-red ruby at the center. It fits perfectly on Astarion’s ring finger, and the friends still in his life that know about it love to tease him for it.
“Married to the sun, and somehow that’s not the most toxic relationship you’ve been in,” Jenevelle drawls with a smirk from where they’re seated at a table in Elfsong Tavern.
Astarion rolls his eyes, although he can’t quite hide his amused smile. “Well you’d certainly know all about toxic relationships, wouldn’t you?”
Jenevelle laughs, a pretty and shy thing, as if she is still getting used to letting herself be vulnerable even all these years later. She looks nearly the same as the days they were fighting against the Absolute– same sleek silver hair, same striking green eyes –but now there are also wrinkles at the corner of her eyes, and laugh lines around her full lips. She is beautiful in her middle age, yet her change in appearance is also a jarring reminder that Astarion will likely outlive everyone he cares about.
Well, at least the ring is removable. Ha.
“I imagine all the other spawn are jealous,” she says.
Astarion shrugs. “Some are. But some are discovering more rings, though they are rare objects. There are other workarounds. Spells, potions. Sebastian was supportive of me taking the ring, especially since I was the one who found it. And the others listen to him, so I don’t expect an army of spawn at my door anytime soon.”
“No. I suppose they’d have to be invited in to do any real damage to you anyway.”
Astarion laughs. “Tell me. How is my favorite githyanki?”
Jenevelle blushes. “Restless. Lae’zel is currently on a long-term expedition to decolonize the lands Vlaakith conquered. She is relieved the fight against Vlaakith is finished, but she is full of energy. Wanderlust. Reminds me of another one of our other companions.” She says this last sentence with a pointed look.
Astarion feels himself blush right back and pretends to scrutinize his perfectly-manicured nails. “Tav you mean? They always did have the attention span of an overgrown puppy.”
“You know I don’t mean Tav.”
Astarion sighs, defeated. “Last I heard, Halsin was in Neverwinter Wood. Studying tree spirits or something. We write letters to each other occasionally. We keep in touch .” He grits out the last words like they physically pain him– which is not far off the mark. To merely keep in touch with someone who meant so much to him, who opened him up literally and figuratively in the most wonderfully life-changing ways…
“I’m sorry,” Jenevelle says quietly, squeezing Astarion’s hand.
This is the part of aging that Astarion rather likes. In his experience, people tend to get softer and wiser as they grow older.
“Thanks,” he says, and squeezes her hand back.
***
The first time Astarion sees Halsin in person again is at the location where they first met. The circumstances are entirely different, of course.
The Temple of Selûne– once ravaged and taken over by hoards of goblins, ogres, and worgs –has been restored to its former peaceful glory, thanks to the hard work of devoted Selûnites led by Jenevelle.
Astarion is treated to a personal tour, and is surprised to see just how beautiful the sanctum can be when it’s not defiled by blood and guts. When Jenevelle is called away to attend to an urgent matter, Astarion is left on his own to explore the rest of the temple. As he wanders across an old wooden bridge toward the back of the sanctum, a familiar growl stops him in his tracks.
“H-Halsin?”
Astarion rounds the corner to find a large brown bear sniffing around what used to be worg pens and is now a prayer room adorned by intricate stained glass windows. The bear lifts its head at the sound of Astarion’s voice and in a flash of bright yellow light the bear transforms into a handsome wood elf druid.
“Astarion,” Halsin greets with a big smile. He looks almost entirely the same as the last time Astarion saw him– though his chestnut hair is slightly longer, and his belly is slightly rounder.
Unfortunately, this development has just made him more attractive.
He quickly closes the distance between them and pulls Astarion into a hug.
Astarion tries not to be overwhelmed by Halsin’s warmth and his pleasant sandalwood scent. He pats him awkwardly on the back and exhales in relief when he’s finally released. “Hello, bear.”
Halsin won’t stop staring at him, his smile seemingly a permanent fixture on his scarred face. “It’s been so long.”
“Mn. What are you doing here?”
“Our dear Jenevelle invited me. She thought I might like to see the temple now that it has been restored.”
Astarion snorts. “I’m sure she did.”
Interfering little shit–
“How have you been?” Halsin asks eagerly. “In your last letter you said you were nearly finished helping the other vampire spawn find permanent housing. You must be very proud.”
Astarion clears his throat. “It was the least I could do.”
Halsin shakes his head with fond exasperation. “You’re a kind person, Astarion.”
“Yes, well,” Astarion waves his hand dismissively. “It must have rubbed off on me at some point. I must remember to keep better company.”
Halsin laughs. “How long do you plan on staying here until you go back to the city?”
Astarion shrugs.
As briefly as possible, now that I know you’re here . It hurts to see you. It hurts so bad.
Halsin takes his non-answer in stride. “I am not sure myself. But I would like to have dinner with you tonight, if you don’t have plans?”
“You do remember I can’t actually eat food, right? I know it’s been a long time, but surely your memory hasn’t gotten that bad.”
Did you even think about me at all these past fifty years?
“I remember everything about you,” Halsin answers, his gaze serious and unwavering.
Astarion can’t help but cave. “Alright,” he sighs. “Dinner.”
***
It’s not as awkward as Astarion had expected.
Dinner is actually the two of them hunting– whatever they catch, Astarion will drain and Halsin will cook.
It reminds him of the good parts of days leading up to the final battle– of camping with a ragtag group of weirdos, coming together to share a meal around a warm fire. He would often help with hunting; for as much as a city man he has always been, he has been forced to hunt for his meals for practically his entire life.
As he and Halsin corner a large stag in the forest, he realizes that he’s having fun .
Something in Astarion’s belly flips when he makes an agile leap to tackle the stag to the ground and he hears his bear companion roar in approval. The stag is startled, and it kicks its powerful legs frantically into the air before Halsin bounds forward and goes in for the kill– ending its life as quickly and painlessly as possible.
“Thank you for this meal, Oak Father,” Astarion whispers, just like he always used to do when Halsin was in his bear form and couldn’t voice the words. Astarion has never been a worshiper of Silvanus, but Halsin is, and that had been important to Astarion when they were together.
It still is.
Astarion ignores the flash of yellow light as he sinks his fangs into the dead stag’s tender flesh, gulping its still-warm blood until he feels strong and slightly inebriated.
“All yours,” he says, slurring his words.
Halsin gazes at him with an unreadable expression on his face before picking up the stag and draping it across his back like it’s a stuffed toy rather than the four-hundred pound deer it is.
“Gods, you’re ridiculous,” Astarion snorts.
That seems to break the tension. Halsin laughs, then squeezes Astarion on the arm.
“Come, let us get back to my camp.”
Halsin leads the way, and Astarion follows.
***
Still in a good mood from the fresh blood in his belly, Astarion dutifully listens to Halsin’s patient instructions as he helps prepare the deer meat for Halsin’s own dinner. It is satisfying work, as objectively grotesque it can seem. It’s different from walking into a Baldur’s Gate butcher shop. With Halsin, the process of handling raw meat always feels ritualistic– sacred even.
When the meat is properly washed, seasoned, and cooked, Halsin takes a clean knife and slices off a generous portion for him to eat alongside fermented cabbage he had purchased from a peddler on the road to the temple.
“How is it?” Astarion asks, leaning back on his elbows where he sits on the ground.
“Very good. The Oak Father has blessed us both tonight.”
Astarion hums.
Halsin sets his food aside to stoke the fire back to life. His steady gaze across the dancing flames is somehow even more intense than when he stared at Astarion in broad daylight.
“What?” Astarion asks, raising an eyebrow.
“I missed you,” Halsin says simply.
“Yes, well,” Astarion says, flustered and embarrassed.
“We haven’t seen each other in a very long time. Far too long.”
“And who’s fault is that?” Astarion snaps before he can stop himself.
Halsin frowns. “We both have responsibilities. Our lives are not as intertwined as they once were.”
“Yes, I’m well aware,” Astarion says, clenching his jaw and fists.
“Are you upset with me?” Halsin asks, brow furrowed.
Astarion laughs humorlessly. “What makes you think that?”
Halsin sighs. “If you do not wish to speak about it, that is fine.”
Astarion suddenly feels very small. He pulls his legs up to his chest and wraps his arms around his knees.
Halsin returns to his dinner, eating slowly like he always has, savoring each bite and no doubt focusing on his continued gratitude for the meal. Astarion stares blankly into the flames, his good mood spoiled.
“It is late,” Halsin says suddenly some time later, cutting through the quiet of the night. “You should get some rest.”
Astarion blinks, and realizes that the fire has died down to glowing embers and Halsin has already packaged up the rest of the leftover meat.
“Oh,” Astarion says, stumbling as he stands up. “Right.”
How long will it be before I see you again? Another fifty years? A century?
Will I ever see you again?
“Goodbye, Halsin,” he croaks out, feeling his throat tighten at an alarming rate.
“Goodnight, my heart.”
Astarion comes back to himself at the sound of that familiar epithet.
“ No ,” he seethes. “You do not get to call me that. Not anymore.”
Halsin frowns and tilts his head. “I apologize. I didn't mean to offend you, Astarion.”
“I don’t care what you mean to do,” Astarion says, nearly baring his sharp fangs. “Whatever your intentions, you fucking broke my heart, Halsin. And it’s like you don’t even care .”
Halsin jumps up suddenly, as if startled. “I… I did not know this was how you felt. You know that I consider all relationships fluid, that they evolve and grow–”
“Yes, I know , you stupid bear,” Astarion interrupts with a hysterical laugh. “But you didn’t even give our relationship a chance to evolve or grow . You cut it off at the root, just when it was beginning to bloom.”
Halsin gapes at him, seemingly at a loss for words.
Astarion laughs again, and this time it turns into a sob. “I wish you would have asked me to go with you to Reithwin,” he whispers, lower lip wobbling. “I would have said yes. But I guess you would have asked me if you wanted me to go with you in the first place.”
“I… I would have liked that. I’m… I’m so sorry Astarion. I had no idea…”
“When we first met, I was terrified of letting myself get close to other people,” Astarion whispers. “And then our merry group of freaks slowly showed me that maybe the whole world wasn’t completely shit. That even when the world was about to end, there would still be good people. There would still be at least one ridiculously giant wood elf druid who would love me even when I hadn’t fully learned to love myself just yet. So when the world didn’t end, and you just left me like it meant nothing… That fucking broke my heart, Halsin.”
Astarion has to look away when he sees the tears streaming down Halsin’s face.
“I thought it was what you needed,” Halsin rasps. “I did not want you to think you owed me anything. You were finally free for the first time in two centuries. I wasn’t going to take that away from you.”
“All I needed was to figure out how to restart my life,” Astarion says, his voice barely audible above the loud buzzing of cicadas. “And I thought… I thought you would have been by my side.”
“I wanted to be by your side,” Halsin gasps out around a sob. “I still want to be by your side.”
“It’s been fifty years, Halsin,” Astarion sighs. “How can I believe that you want me, when clearly you’ve been fine without seeing me for so long?”
“I will prove it to you,” Halsin says immediately, even though he’s still crying. “Come with me now. I will show you. And if you still don’t believe me, then I—” he cuts himself off, his mouth a grim line. “I hope you believe me.”
He extends his hand. Astarion stares at it, keeping his face carefully neutral as if that will discount his emotional outburst.
Finally, he nods but does not take Halsin’s proffered hand.
“Fine,” he drawls. “But if this is some weird ploy to get me to agree to group sex with Jenevelle, I assure you Lae’zel will have both our heads if we attempt to interrupt their blissful reunion.”
Halsin does not laugh. He begins to silently walk in the direction of the temple.
He does turn his head, though, as if worried Astarion won’t follow.
Astarion can’t help but offer up a small tense smile in response.
You broke my heart. But I still trust you.
***
The temple is quiet and empty this time of night. The only sounds are the soft hoots of owls in nearby trees, and the subtle hiss of incense that is slowly burning on several altars.
Halsin leads them to the interfaith chambers of the sanctuary, where there are idols and statues of many gods; while Jenevelle is a dedicated follower of Selûne, Astarion supposes the experiences both she and Lae’zel have been through have made them welcoming of other worshippers. Maybe Astarion has grown sappy in his old age– although technically he will never be old considering he’s immortal –but he rather likes the sentiment.
On one side of the room is an altar dedicated to Silvanus. There are already many offerings– fruit, money, spells of protection. Halsin kneels at the altar. He does not ask Astarion to do the same.
“I do not believe in marriage,” Halsin says softly, his voice oddly loud in the large cavernous room. “And I do not even believe in what most people define as a relationship.”
“My faith in your devotion to me has been restored,” Astarion says dryly.
Halsin smiles at the quip, though there is real fear and concern in his eyes. “But.”
“But? Don’t say that you’re proposing to me.”
“Not exactly.” Halsin turns to look up at the regal stone idol of Silvanus. “There is a ritual in my culture called Cormanthyr .”
“ Cormanthyr ,” Astarion repeats slowly, trying to remember the meaning of the word. “The fulfillment of a promise.”
Halsin nods, solemn. “You recite the oath of Cormanthyr out of respect for a partner you love and cherish. The oath is a promise that you will care for them and honor them, unless you mutually decide to move on from one another. However, if you break the promise, you lose your talas.”
Astarion involuntarily gasps. “You’re sacrificing your soul for me?”
Halsin smiles at him. “It is not a sacrifice. It’s a promise. I will love you, I will do everything in my power to make sure you are happy. And if I fail, I willingly give up my soul for the Oak Father to use as he pleases.”
Astarion stares at him.
Halsin reaches out to gently stroke the back of his hand. “I love you. And I am full of regrets for hurting you, especially after everything you’ve already been through.” He looks back up at the idol. “Silvanus,” he says as he begins the oath. “God of all that’s wild–”
“No,” Astarion interrupts. “Stand up.”
Halsin looks up at him, brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong is that you’re exchanging your soul just to prove you care about me,” Astarion says. He grabs Halsin’s arms and pulls, and Halsin allows him to help him stand.
Halsin frowns. “I told you it’s not a sacrifice, Astarion.”
“It’s unnecessary,” Astarion insists. “When you ended things between us, I– well, I was fucked up about it for a long time. But I never doubted your kindness, Halsin. And the mere fact that you were going to go through with a ritual as binding as that… Well, that certainly helps.”
Halsin’s face is full of desperate hope as he looks into Astarion’s eyes. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying maybe let’s just start with a kiss,” Astarion says with a smirk. “And then maybe some really good makeup sex. And then we’ll talk some more, and see what comes next.”
Astarion doesn’t wait for an answer, and takes what he wants in the form of Halsin’s grinning lips pressed firmly against his own.
“I love you, my heart.”
“I love you, Halsin.”