#vemaro

Astarion, who was at the back of the group, looks between Tav’s door and the tiefling. “What … was that about?”

No one gives him an immediate answer, but something about their silence feels off. He’s the only one who appears lost. In other words, they know something and they don’t want to tell him. Most likely as payback from when he left their group. Even he has to admit it’s somewhat warranted, but he’s here now, damnit. Then again, it’s been less than 24 hours since he came back.

Gale, unofficial second in command, awkwardly steps into the center of things. “Tav requires a, er, moment of privacy.” He clears his throat. “We should allow her that by going out and doing as she asked of us. Supplies won’t collect themselves.”

Astarion stares at the door. “But is she alright?”

The wizard falls silent once more, pointedly looking down at his boots and clearly done talking. Okay … Astarion can’t tell if he’s more annoyed by the situation or concerned for the person locked in the room. Fine. If they’re not going to provide him any information, he might as well get it from the source.

His expression must’ve given away his intention because Wyll grabs his shoulder before he can move. “Don’t, Astarion. Leave her be.”

“Don’t touch me.” He shrugs off the warlock's hand and continues on his way. Just as he touches the door knob, a noise escapes the room. A moan. A moan? And he knows that moan. He’s made people do it before. This—this can’t be right. He must be delusional. But then there it is again, a sound of ecstasy passing through Tav’s lips. “What in the fucking Nine Hells is going on in there?” he demands out loud.

Gale's face is bright red and he’s white knuckling his quarterstaff. “I told you she needed a moment,” he mutters, eyes pleading. “Now please kindly step away from the door.”

Astarion does move away from the door and gets right in his face. “Are we seriously delaying our day so she can pleasure herself? Have you all lost your damn—”

He’s suddenly being yanked back by his shirt. On instinct, he pulls out a dagger, ready to attack, but Jaheira, the perpetrator, takes out her own and holds it at the ready. “Don’t tempt me with a good time, Little Star,” she says cheekily.

As frustrated as he is, Astarion is in no mood to fight. Although he has apologized for his dramatic departure, he’s not so naive to believe everyone has entirely forgiven him. He stashes his knife and holds up his hands. “I yield.”

She snaps at the others. “You all have a job to do, don’t you? Shoo.” They all file out slowly, a couple of them tossing a final glance in Tav's direction. Once it’s just the Harper and the vampire, the former gestures signals for him to follow. “Come.”

He grits his teeth, but obeys. Jaheira leads him downstairs into the tavern. It’s still mid morning, so there’s not much business yet, only a handful of people sprinkled across the space. The pair bypass the bar entirely and find an empty table in a secluded corner. She sits down first then nods towards the empty seat. “Sit.”

Astarion doesn’t fancy being told what to do yet again. “Tell me now; are you actually going to explain or should I just walk away?”

In lieu of properly answering, Jaheira lets out a world weary sigh and instead asks, “You are aware that we now possess the Orphic Hanmer, yes?”

He rolls his eyes. Perhaps he should leave. “Yes, I’m aware. How is that relevant to this conversation?”

“You recall where it was being held?”

His patience is wearing thin. “The House of Hope; that devil, Raphael’s, domain. I was told you lot took care of him.”

“Indeed. Raphael was defeated by our hand when we tried to escape with the hammer,” Jaheira says plainly. “However, prior to that battle, there was an incubus, Haarlep. He agreed to help us, but it came with a steep price.”

He reaches for his dagger again. “Is he up there right now?”

She shakes her head. “No, fortunately not.”

“Then what are we even talking about?”

Jaheira has never been one to mince her words, something Astarion respected her for. So it isn’t a good sign if she hesitates before speaking. The elder woman clasps her hands together and rests them on top of the table. Still, she pauses first. “Haarlep gave us a code to a safe and the hammer in exchange for having his way with Tav.”

Astarion feels his stomach drop into the sewers. “What?” He bangs his fists on the table. “Why the hells didn’t you kill him?”

“Honestly, we weren’t around to stop it from happening,” she confesses. “Tav split off from the group at some point and by the time we found her, a deal was struck and the deed was done.”

He points towards the stairs. “That still doesn’t explain whatever that is.”

Again, she hesitates, which is very unsettling. “He is a shapeshifter, much like that bloodthirsty Orin girl. Whenever he uses Tav’s form to seduce someone, she can feel everything with her own body.” The High Harper scowls. “It seems he’s been using it quite frequently.”

Astarion comes to a horrific realization. He covers his face in shame for her and finally drops into the open seat. “So right now, he’s fucking somebody else as her?”

“Yes.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. This is too much. This is too familiar. Cazador is dead. Cazador is gone. Astarion stabbed him himself. This isn’t even about him, it’s about her. That stupid, selfless woman. He always warned Tav that her acts of heroism and martyrdom would eventually bite her in the ass one day, but he never thought it would be something like this. This is so much worse. What was she thinking? Jaheira allows him some time to gather his thoughts. When he does, he lets his hands fall away. “And … how often does this happen?”

“If I had to guess, every few days.” She sighs yet again. “You know how she can be though. It could be more. It hasn’t happened during a fight.” There’s an implied yet that hangs heavily in the air.

By now, a few guests have started to trickle in. Their private conversation won’t be so private for much longer. “How is she? Really.”

Jaheira stands. “Well, with an incubus violating her body, a mind flayer invading her mind, and a vampire spawn who wished her dead, how do you think, Little Star?” She doesn’t give him the opportunity to answer. She just walks away and out the front door, leaving him to stew in his thoughts and emotions. Which can be perfectly summed up as what the fucking hells.

It doesn't take too long for the druid to descend the stairs. At the bottom, she scans the room and her eyes connect with a familiar red pair of eyes. For a split second, she breaks into the sunny smile she’s known for, but one look at his expression sours hers. Tav heads for the door.

“Tav!” Astarion scrambles up from the chair and chases her outside. “Wait!”

She does not wait. “They told you.” It’s not even a question.

He catches up and puts himself directly in front of her. “I was going to find out eventually.”

Tav starts stabbing him with her finger in the chest. “Hey, you don’t get to judge me. You weren't there and it was the only way that no one would get hurt and—”

He lets her do it. “Out of everyone here, I have the least right to judge you.”

She laughs, but the sound lacks any humor. “Out of everyone here, you’d have the most right to judge me.”

Astarion frowns at the accusation. “Why would I judge you at all?”

“Because I had a choice, and you didn’t.”

Technically, technically, she’s not wrong, but that doesn’t make this any less fucked up. “I’m not judging you, Tav.” Gods below, is this what it was like for her when she was trying to get him to open up? “Your body is being used in such a dirty, nefarious way against your will, the toll on your mind and body is unfathomable. I’m the only person here who truly understands that.”

“I’m fine.”

Her nonchalance on the subject is pissing him off, but a small voice (that sounds awfully close to hers) reminds him this isn’t about him. “No, you’re not.”

Tav crosses her arms. “You went through this for two hundred years. I’m not going to compare my tendays of discomfort to your literal centuries of torture.”

“By the Gods, Tav, it’s not a bloody pissing contest for trauma!” He wants to grab the druid and shake some sense into her. If the issue at hand was literally anything else, he would. “Whether it’s been happening for a day, a week, a month, or a thousand years, it’s a shit predicament for anyone.”

He notices her fists clenching and unclenching. She’s digging her nails into her palms. “I appreciate the concern, but it’s fine. I’m fine.”

That’s a lie, plain and simple, but he won’t push the subject any further. From his own experience being on the other side of things, specifically during their discussions, it made him dig his heels in the dirt and shut down. Ironic how the tables have turned. “Alright,” he concedes. “But if you ever need to talk, I’m willing to lend an ear.”

Tav closes her eyes, takes a very deep breath, and lets it out very slowly and loudly. When she looks back at him, she seems slightly less frazzled. “Thanks, but I’m—”

“Fine?” he says with a smirk.

She snorts. “I am.”

“Of course you are.”

With an unimpressed eye roll, she pushes him away in jest. “I am, for the millionth time. Now drop it and let’s go. We’re already running behind.”

“Coming, dear.”

As they walk side by side, Astarion can’t help but wonder when he became the emotionally mature one in their friendship. The one attempting to crack open the shell of the other person. Ugh, he fucking hates it. Being the petty and bitter one is much easier. And yet he wants to try to be supportive and open. For her.

The things you do for love, right?

…

He puts on a sharp toothed grin and gives her a bow. “In the flesh.”

Her eyes drink in everything, from his impeccably styled hair, to his blood red eyes, the bite marks peeking out from the collar of his shirt, and those laugh lines used to tease him about. He’s usually comfortable in the spotlight, but under her scrutiny, he’s horribly self-conscious. Tav has always been able to see right through him, whether he liked it or not. Except, of course, in the matter of the romantic feelings he harbors. He was never sure if that was a blessing or a curse.

Astarion breaks the silence. “Kobold got your tongue? Or has my sheer beauty left you speechless?”

His words seem to snap the druid from her reverie then she all but jumps on him for a hug. “Where have you been? I thought you were dead!”

He relaxes into the embrace. Gods, he missed being this close to her. “Technically, Tav, I’m already dead.”

She abruptly shoves him away, anger splayed across her face. “That’s not funny. I was worried, Astarion. I sent letters and you never sent any back. I couldn’t tell if the others were telling the truth when they said they’ve seen you, or lying to make me feel better.”

If only she knew the reason behind his lack of appearance. “My deepest apologies. I was busy dealing with a horde of ravenous vampire spawn.”

That seems to mollify her. Tav plants her hands on her hips and waggles a finger at him. “I understand, but if you can’t visit, at least write.”

“Fair enough,“ he concedes. “I’ll try to find time in my schedule.”

Content that she got her point across, Tav smiles and crosses her arms. “Thank you.” Then she steps aside and cocks her head past the entryway. “Come on in. I have something important to tell you.”

The last time she had to tell him something important, she announced her upcoming nuptials. At least not much else can top the heartbreak that wrought.

Unless …

No. No, someone definitely would’ve told him if she’s … His eyes drop to her middle. Absolutely not. He refuses to believe it. Damnit, he never should’ve come to see her. He never should’ve let himself hope.

Her better half walks into the foyer. “Tav, I can’t find my—” He stops when he spots the third wheel. “Oh. We have company.”

Astarion detests the man on principle, but he is Tav’s spouse so he’ll play nice. “Pardon my intrusion, Terrick.” He holds out a hand. “Astarion Ancunin. I’m—”

“One of my wife’s former allies. Yes, I recall our introduction at the wedding.” His eyes flicker to the bite marks on Astarion’s neck. His expression eludes to nothing, whether he was aware of his vampiric condition until now or had previous knowledge. He steps closer to Tav and puts a hand on her waist. “Welcome to our home.”

He retracts the offered hand. “It’s quite lovely,” he says, voice honey drenched. “Which is surprising. During our travels, her tent was always filled with trinkets and mementos from our adventures.”

Terrick arches an eyebrow. “I’m not one for clutter.”

Astarion shrugs. “A little clutter won’t do any harm.” He makes eye contact with Tav. “Each souvenir is associated with a happy memory.” She smiles and it feels like a small victory.

Terrick changes the subject. “I can’t find my blue doublet.”

Tav snickers. “You lost it a month ago.”

He purses his lips, displeased with the answer. “Ah. That slipped my mind.” He walks past them, heading for the steps that lead to the pathway. “Then I need another made.”

“If I could make a suggestion. Figaro’s shop—”

Terrick shakes his head. “Shops in the Lower City are of poor quality.”

Tav clasps her hands behind her back. “Actually, his clothes are very high quality and he offers a hefty discount.” They did save him from a murderous dwarf.

The man’s whole body palpitates. “Do I look like I require a discount?”

“No, but—”

He cuts her off. “We’ll discuss it later.” Astarion’s hand is on the hilt of his knife. He could throw it and have it land right between the eyes in two seconds flat. “I’ll be back later. Don’t wait up. Goodnight.” He makes sure to lock eyes with the vampire one more time. “Astarion,” he spits.

He has to hold back a sneer. “Terrick.” And he walks off into the night. Astarion glowers as they watch him disappear around the corner. “Charming, he is.”

“I didn't marry him for his personality.” Her tone is dry and flat, almost bored. “He’s gotten a bit moodier since the wedding though. Moreso recently.”

A scary thought comes to mind. There’s no subtle way of asking, so he just asks. “He doesn’t … hurt you, does he?” He waits for the slightest confirmation of abuse. Cazador’s death will look like child’s play by comparison if he has to hunt him down.

She swats the air. “No. Terrick huffs and puffs for show. As long as he funds the repairs and my projects, it’s fine.” But then her face softens. “But thanks for the concern.”

First comes the relief, followed by annoyance. He’s relieved no harm has come to the woman he loves, annoyed he doesn’t have reason to hate the man—more reason. That’s too bad. “Now that your loving husband has left the premises, what is it that you wanted to tell me?”

Her eyes light up with manic glee. “Oh yes!” Tav leads him inside, to the closest armchair and sits him down. “Wait here.”

Without another word, she hurries off, leaving behind a curious Astarion. So … perhaps he was worried for nothing. He was jumping to conclusions, coming up with worst case scenarios. Tav’s not going to tell him she’s with child. She doesn’t love Terrick. She’s admitted that on several occasions even before the wedding.

“Close your eyes!”

He does as he’s told. “Ooh, did you slip into something more comfortable?”

She stomps a foot. “If my arms weren’t full, I’d chuck something at you. Are your eyes closed?”

Her arms are full. Does she have a present for him? “Yes, dear.”

He hears her approach. “No peeking.” He holds his hands above his head, twirls them a couple times, and covers his eyes. Not long after that, he feels her presence just ahead of him. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Open your eyes.”

When he opens his eyes, his heart shatters into a million pieces. Swathed in a bundle of blankets, is exactly as he feared; a baby. A shock of blue hair. Topaz eyes. Pointed ears. Freckles sprinkled on the apples of his cheeks and across his button nose. Pale skin, though not nearly as pale as the vampire’s.

Tav bounces and sways in place. “Astarion, I’d like you to meet my son.” The mother is sporting the biggest and brightest grin he’s ever witnessed. “Callum.”

The words echo in his mind. Meet my son. They have a son. Tav and Terrick have a child together. Those two will forever be connected through this child and there is nothing Astarion can do to sever that bond. He’s not so selfish to wish for an unhappy marriage. The innocent soul brought into this world by the woman he loves doesn’t deserve that. He deserves his real father, not a man with fantasies of coveting his mother.

What honestly hurts most is the betrayal from his friends, if he can even call them that at this point. They knew, but elected to say nothing when they fussed at him for keeping away. Worse yet, she also chose not to tell him in any of the letters she sent. He never wrote back, but he read them all.

With the betrayal comes a fierce jealousy. He envies Terrick. Not for the intimacy of creating a child, but the bond a child brings. Astarion never fathomed fatherhood, never entertained the thought, not even after taking down his former master. He’s only just attained his freedom. It’s too soon to settle down, let alone start a family, if that was even possible for a vampire spawn. Now though, seeing the joy her son brings her, he would’ve been willing to try for her. He could picture himself with a child, their child, if that is what she asked of him. What would they look like? Like he used to before transforming into a creature of the night?

The baby voice she’s using is both nauseating and adorable. “Callum, this is one of my very best friends, Astarion,” she coos. “Say hi.”

“He’s …” Terrick’s. And Tav’s. “Beautiful, Tav.”

“Isn’t he?” she gushes. “You’re the first to see him. Gale and Wyll just barely missed it, but left before he came.”

He bows his head. “An honor, truly. And I must say, you look amazing for a woman who recently gave birth.”

She jerks her head back. “I’m sorry, what?”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “I mean no offense, my darling.”

Tav opens her mouth, shuts it, opens it again then bursts out laughing. She speaks between peels of laughter. “There has been … a misunderstanding … a huge misunderstanding.”

He frowns. The vampire is missing something, clearly. What is he missing? Is there somehow another child? Does Callum have a twin? “What?”

She reaches over and flicks his forehead. “I didn’t have him. Callum is adopted.”

There’s a prolonged silence of Astarion gawking up at Tav. “Adopted?” he parrots.

“Yes, adopted.” She perches herself on the edge of a table in front of the armchair. “I’m sorry, I thought it was obvious.”

He slaps his hands on the wooden handles. “How was it obvious?”

“Callum looks absolutely nothing like me. Or Terrick.” She lowers her head so her hair falls in the baby’s face. “Notice the difference in hair color.”

What would it take for a giant hole to appear in the ground and swallow him up? “What was I supposed to say when you tell me he’s your son? Oh wow, he doesn’t have your hair, eyes, nose, or complexion. Neither your husband’s. Do you have a mistress?” Astarion. Astarion would like to throw his hat in the ring if the position is open.

That makes her laugh even harder. “No! Oh my gods, Astarion. You thought I hid an entire pregnancy?” He’s too embarrassed to say anything. “You know Karlach can’t keep secrets. Not when they’re not life or death. She’s the reason we found out about Lae’zel and Shadowheart.” She blushes and avert her eyes. “And me and Halsin.”

Many emotions are coursing through him and he’s not sure which to process first. Callum is Tav and Terrick’s child, but not in the same sense he assumed previously. Blood relations are irrelevant. Though. He’s still their child. It must be a druid thing. Jaheira has a house in the Lower City, though he wouldn’t call her mother of the year. Halsin has been taking in some strays as well. What does that mean for Tav? Will she and Terrick continue to adopt more children?

He allows himself a half-hearted guffaw. “I forgot you and the bear rolled around in the leaves.”

Tav shudders. “I have no desire to have a child with Terrick. Even when we—” There’s an implied sleep together Astarion would prefer not to acknowledge. It conjures some images he’d rather not think about. “I don’t want children with him.”

He could drop to his knees, throw up his arms, and shout his praises to the gods right now. “There’s no need. You have the perfect child right here.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” She stands back up, beaming. “Would you like to hold him?”

He really should’ve seen this coming, but he didn’t. “Oh, uh, is it safe? Babies are fragile little things. I don’t want to, er, break him.” He sits as far back in the chair as he can, hands tucked underneath his thighs.

She slides over to one side of the chair. “Please?”

“I don’t know, darling.”

“Pretty please?” It’s difficult to turn her down while staring into those wide, trusting eyes. And then there was the baby. Eventually he gives in, holds up his hands with a deadpan expression on his face. Tav smirks. “Fix your arms.”

Ten seconds later, he’s holding an infant for the first time in two centuries of undead life. He peers down at the little boy. He’s probably wondering who the hells is this monster holding me? Astarion has no idea what to say besides an awkward, “Hello.”

One Callum’s hands break from the blankets and finds its way to lightly smack Astarion’s cheek. It doesn’t hurt really, but then he does it a couple more times. When he tries to stop the low level attack, Callum grabs one of his fingers and tugs as hard as his little body can manage.

Oh.

It’s only Gale, who lets go immediately. “Breathe, just breathe, Tav,” he says, keeping a calm and cool head.

She shakes her head. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“Callum is missing. My son is missing.” Saying it out loud makes it feel worse. Tav clutches onto the fabric of her shirt above her frantic heart. “I should’ve been paying more attention to him. Or holding his hand. He’s so small, Gale. So small. What if someone took him?”

The wizard swats away the suggestion. “I’m sure he merely wandered off after spotting a sparkly bauble or colorful trinket.”

“But what if—”

He cuts her off. “We’ll find him.”

“But—”

He cuts her off a second time, firmly grabbing onto both of her shoulders. Her mouth snaps shut and she stares wide-eyed at her friend. “We will find him, Tav. But I implore you to take a deep breath.” Tav nods profusely inhaling through the nose and exhaling slowly through the mouth. Already some tension leaves her. “There. Much better.”

She takes another breath and at least now she can think straight. “Thank you.”

He smiles at her reassuringly. “Of course. I doubt he got very far. Why don’t you search the immediate vicinity? I shall search further up the road, and Astarion, you can—” It’s only now that they’ve both noticed their other companion is nowhere to be found. “Astarion?”

Curse that blasted vampire.

…

Astarion Ancunin has two objectives whenever he comes to Baldur’s Gate. One: keep Tav happy. And two: keep Callum happy. As of right now, he is failing quite spectacularly at both. Callum vanished under his watch and his mother is in a state of panic. It’s been years since she’s worn that wrecked expression and he never wishes to see it again. The only way to fix that is to locate the boy and bring him to her as quickly as possible.

Easier said than done.

He wasn’t at any of the stalls near where they were, nor inside any of the shops. It comes as no shock that no one noticed a small child with blue hair passing them by. If Astarion didn’t have to worry about accidentally exposing himself to the sun or drawing too much attention, this would be so much easier. Wave a dagger here, idle threats there and somebody would’ve seen something useful.

He makes a sharp turn down an alleyway when he spots a woman crouching in front of several stacks of barrels. She doesn’t notice him yet, her focus on something, or someone, hidden from his view. “Hello, little one. Are you lost?”

“Y-yes,” a small voice warbles.

He can’t physically see him, but he recognizes that voice. It’s Callum. Callum is over there, to his immense relief. Astarion’s first instinct is to shove the stranger aside, pick up the boy, and run like the hells, but it’s never that easy. This is Baldur’s Gate, the City of Blood, who knows if this woman has good intentions or bad. Astarion hangs back, sliding back behind the corner from which he came, a dagger at the ready, just in case.

He watches as she scoots a little closer. His hold on the hilt tightens. “Can you tell me your name?” she asks.

“No.”

The woman, a drow upon closer inspection, laughs at the timid yet blunt answer. “Smart boy.” Astarion wholeheartedly agrees. “I’m Mira. I’ll help you find your way home, alright?”

“I miss my Mama.”

She stands up and holds out a hand. “I know. We’ll find her together, promise.”

There’s a long pause as Callum thinks of what to do. “O-okay.” A tiny hand comes out from behind the barrels, latching onto her fingers.

She smiles down at him, hoping to coax him out of his hiding spot. “Okay.”

Astarion has no choice but to step in before they can leave. Thankfully for him, the alley is steeped in shadows, so if things get out of hand, at the very least he can close the umbrella in favor of fighting. Astarion clears his throat and slowly walks their way. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. He’s coming with me.”

The drow jumps, startled by his sudden appearance. “Stay there,” she whispers. She lets go of his hand, guides him back behind the barrels, and turns to face Astarion. She eyes him up and down. “Can I help you, sir?”

He puts on a charming grin and holds up his hand to show he’s not holding a weapon (it’s up his sleeve). “Ah, but you already did. You found my friend for me. Thank you for your services, but they are no longer needed. Good day.” He motions for her to leave.

She takes a defiant step back, closer to Callum. “Are you his father?”

Astarion resists a grimace, because it’s a stupid question and he can’t say yes. “No,” he grinds out. “I’m a family friend.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” she challenges.

They’re maybe five feet apart, staring each other down, silver glaring up at red. “You don’t,” he deadpans. He looks past her, toward those barrels. “Come out, little bird. It’s time to fly home.”

Out pops that head of blue hair, followed by puffy, red-rimmed eyes. “Asty?”

“The one and only.” His eyes flicker back and forth between the boy and the woman every few seconds. He doesn’t want either of them out of sight. “You had us all worried sick disappearing like that, especially your mother. She’s looking for you right now.”

At the mention of Tav, the little comes out of hiding entirely. The drow woman still stands guard, hand shifting towards a rapier sheathed at her hip. “Mama?” he chirps.

Astarion nods. “Yes. I’ll take you to her.”

A few things happen all at once. Callum tries running towards him, only to be prevented by her. Astarion reveals the dagger up his sleeve because it seems he’s going to have to do this the hard way. Next thing he knows, a strong gust of wind blows him back against a brick wall and then there is a sword being pressed to his throat. The mysterious woman knows magic. And he dropped the dagger when he hit the wall. Perfect. Can this get any worse?

Naturally, he has to make light of everything, if not for himself, but for Callum’s sake. “Let’s not do anything hilarious.”

She presses the blade ever closer, making the cool metal touch just below his Adam’s apple. “Shut it,” she hisses. “I’m not going to let you hurt him.”

She thinks he’s going to hurt Callum? The idea is so preposterous, he could laugh. He restrains himself from doing so because something tells him she won't share his sense of humor. “This is just one big misunderstanding, dear. Lower your weapon and I will gladly explain everything away.”

Her eyes narrow dangerously. “Do not take me for a fool.”

And yet she is a fool. “I would never dream of doing such a thing.”

“How about I just run a stake through your heart, vampire?” His smile drops as a crooked, snaggle-toothed smirk spreads across her face. “Better yet, I can toss you out in the sun over there.”

Well, shit. This is worse.

A gasp from the little boy turns both of their heads. He’s running away, running right past them, running as fast as his little legs can take him, with his arms extended out. “Mama!”

At the end of the alley stands Astarion’s beloved druid, looking regal under the light of the sun. And Gale’s there too, he supposes. “Callum!” She meets him halfway, deftly scoops him into her arms and squeezes him like her life depends on it. “I was so scared.” She cranes her neck to look him over. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

His voice waivers. “I saw a cat and I wanted to pet it, but-but it kept running away. Then I lost you.”

She closes her eyes and thinks of his warmth breath on her neck, his weight in her arms, his heart beating in his chest. “It’s okay.” He’s okay. He’s fine. “You’re not lost anymore. You found me.”

“I love you, Mama.”

Tav presses a kiss into his hair. “I love you, too.” She kisses him over and over again.

The tender moment is broken with an aggravated cough. “Ahem! Not to spoil this heartwarming reunion, but can someone please tell this madwoman to release me?”

The druid flushes with embarrassment. “Sorry,” she calls. She approaches the drow woman, though she still keeps a safe distance back. “Let him go. Please.”

She glares at her captee. “He’s a vampire!”

Gale tries to talk her down. “Ah, yes. We are well aware of this fact, Miss …” He trails off, gesturing for her to fill in the blank.

“Mira,” she says.

“Miss Mira.”

“Just Mira,” she corrects.

“Just Mira.” He slowly saunters over, placing a hand on Astarion’s shoulder. “He’s actually a very good friend of ours and we’d prefer it if you didn’t kill him.”

“He was going to drink from your son!”

The vampire scoffs. “No, I wasn’t!” He pauses. “And that’s not his son!” The thought of Gale and Tav, together, makes him physically ill.

“Hush,” they both snap.

Astarion begrudgingly obeys. There is still a fucking sword at his throat and apparently he’s the only one bothered by it.

This is going absolutely nowhere. Tav steps a little closer so she’s behind Gale but next to Astarion. “Miss—” The other woman opens her mouth, so Tav quickly corrects herself. “I mean, Mira. Mira. I appreciate you looking out for my son, I’ll never be able to properly thank you for that, but there’s no one I trust more with him than the man before you.” She grabs Astarion’s wrist. “Please, release him.”

Mira’s eyes start on Tav then Callum, flit over to Gale, and finally land on the vampire. They’re all staring at her, hope shining in their eyes and it’s too much for her to bear. “Fine,” she groans before sheathing the rapier and crossing her arms.

Astarion brushes off some imaginary dust from his shoulders. “Thank you. It was about time.”

“You’re welcome,” she sneers back.

Tav’s hand is touching his face, turning his head by the chin this way and that, checking for injuries. “Are you hurt?”

He shrugs, playing it of. “I’ll live.”

“Asty, I’ll make it all better.” Tav semi-reluctantly hands him over to Astarion, who readily accepts the boy. “I’ll give you a magic kiss like Mama gives me.” And he does, right on the cheek, and then Callum hugs him around the neck.

Astarion catches a glimpse of a beaming Tav over the boy’s shoulder and feels his heart melt with sentimentality. Gods below, he has gone soft over the years and these two are to blame. With a sigh, he pats the boy’s back. “Thank you, little bird. I think it’s working.”

So Callum’s fine. Astarion’s got him. Tav feels secure enough to turn her attention back to Mira. “Thank you for protecting my son. Please, let me give you something for your trouble.” She digs into her satchel and pulls out a small pouch heavy with gold coins. “Here. Take this.”

Mira stares at the pouch for a moment, but takes a step back. “It was no trouble at all. Keep your gold.”

The druid is a persistent one. “Then allow me to buy you a meal. Please. I do insist. Please.”

Mira is not immune to those big, doe eyes. She throws her hands up, resigning herself to her fate. “Sure. Why not?”

Tav’s face lights up. “Yes! Perfect. Thank you. I know this place not too far from here—”

“I’m sorry. You expect me to endure a meal sitting across from someone who just tried to kill me?”

Tav chuckles dryly. “I’ve done it.”

Astarion spins around. “What? When did you—” But then he stops mid sentence to cringe. “Oh … right …” She’s referring to the first time he fed on her. He was one gulp away from going too far. Tav passed out from the blood loss and he stayed up the rest of the night to make sure he hadn’t unintentionally killed her. The next morning she sucker punched him. It was very much warranted. “Have I told you how lovely you look in that color, darling?”

She rolls her eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

Mira leans over and stage whispers to Gale. “Um, so what’s the story behind that?”

He arches an eyebrow at the query. “To what are you referring to?”

She looks back over at the trio. Tav is fussing over both of her boys, repeatedly asking if they’re okay, they’re unharmed, they’re fine. Mira tilts her head in their direction. “Them.”

The wizard follows her gaze then sighs. “One lunch isn’t a sufficient amount of time to explain that … mess.”

“Is that so?” She clasps her hands behind her back and bites her lip. “Sounds like a good excuse to meet up again.”

Gale’s face burns bright red. “O-oh.” He starts fiddling with his coat, the buttons, the cuffs, anything to distract him from openly gaping at the beautiful woman currently speaking to him. “I-I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.”

“It’s a date?”

He offers her a shy smile as a confirmation. “It’s a date.”

…

Breathe. Just breathe. But don’t sigh. Don’t give him the satisfaction. “No, Terrick. This is what I’m wearing.”

He finally walks in only to stand in front of her vanity. “At least put on a dress,” he says, adjusting his cravat.

Tav plops herself on top of her bed and crosses one leg over the other. “I will if you will.”

He doesn’t look away from his reflection. The man keeps working on that damn cravat. “For the gods’ sake, can you please not make this harder than need be?”

She rolls her eyes. “Can you allow me some comfort while in public? Most of the dresses I have are too tight.”

Terrick scoffs. “Then lose some weight.”

Tav wouldn’t describe herself as overly confident in her appearance. However, she is content. Growing up on the streets as a child, looks didn’t matter all that much. And then after joining the enclave, she was taught inner beauty was of more import than physical beauty. As an adventurer, as long as she was alive and well, that’s good enough for her. Yet holy hells, did that scathing remark almost make her convert into a Bhaal worshiper.

The druid doesn’t miss a beat with a quip of her own. “Awe. Concerned you don’t take up enough space in pictures?” She speaks in a cooing voice that drips with condescension. “Don’t worry, husband dear, I will happily step aside so you can have all of the spotlight.” The last thing she wants is to be in the Mouth anyway.

He whips around to leer at her. “I’ll have you know—”

She’s not through. “Oh, but you’re not the reason the journalists come to these events. I am. The people want to see the Hero of Faerûn on the front page, not some glorified Baldurian socialite.”

“A socialite?” Terrick goes so red in the face, he puts Karlach to shame.

She rises to her feet, refusing to let him stand over her. “What else do you call a man who lives off his family’s fortune while floating from party to party?”

Any more pressure in his head, and the man’s eyeballs would pop clear out. “How dare you?” he snaps, b-lining towards her. “I’m the only reason you’re able to start your little projects. Your schools, your food banks, your clinics; they’re all possible through my family’s name and wealth. Without me, you’d be nothing.”

Actually, she’d still be the Hero of Faerûn, but Tav bites her tongue. By now, she was far too used to him lording his status over her head. They’ve had this argument numerous times and she’s so tired. If she said that thought out loud, it would eventually end with her pompous husband threatening to end their arrangement. Tav would be out on the streets, which isn’t too much of a concern. She’s no longer a small defenseless child with no way of earning money. She’s wholly capable of enduring hardship, homelessness included.

But it wasn’t just about her anymore.

She has a son; Callum, who is a small defenseless child. Terrick may or may not keep Callum. He doesn’t care for him like she does, but she wouldn’t put it past the bastard to use him as a bargaining chip. But if they both ended up on the streets, there’s no guarantee gold would come her way, even with the title of Hero. And she couldn’t burden her friends with her problems.

So Tav stays.

And Tav bites her tongue again and again.

And Tav prays for the days when Terrick is out of the house.

Breathe, don’t sigh. “I’m sorry, Terrick.” She bows her head slightly. “You’re right. My comment was … out of line. Please forgive me.”

“I suppose.” He squares his shoulders and clears his throat. “See to it that it doesn’t happen again.”

It most certainly will happen again. “Of course.”

“Now put on the damn dress I picked out, wife.” When Terrick invokes that title, it’s like a curse, something akin to a Dominate spell. It makes her skin crawl.

“Yes, husband,” she responds.

Placated for now, he nods once more then rushes for the door. Just before exiting the room, he throws out one last command over his shoulder. “And do check on the boy. Last outing, he was rather irritable.”

Tav grits her teeth. Callum was sick during their last outing, just coming down from the flu. She offered to stay home with him, but Terrick demanded otherwise. The poor thing was miserable the whole afternoon, constantly coughing, sneezing, and sniffling. Breathe. In and out. Or else Bhaal may have a new follower by nightfall. She forces a smile onto her face. “Yes, Terrick. In a moment then.”

“Thank you.” And he slams the door shut.

Now that she’s alone at last, she finally lets out the heavy sigh she’s been holding in.

By some miracle of the gods, the grand opening of the new food bank goes off without a hitch. Speeches are made, the people seem receptive, and Tav doesn’t pass out due to her constricting clothes. All in all, today can be chalked up as a success. What brings her true happiness though, isn’t the praise from the crowd or the pride of a job well done. No, it’s the sight of some familiar faces scattered amongst the crowd.

Wyll. Gale. Karlach. Lae’zel. Shadowheart. Astarion.

She’s so very happy they’re all here for her.

But also incredibly sad because they may be here now, but they’ll all inevitably leave again.

…

“Okay!” And he’s off.

Tav lets out a soft laugh. She loves that boy more than she’s loved anyone before, blood relations be damned. Finding him was the single greatest adventure of her life and she’s never, not once regretted taking him in, especially with moments like this, when he’s so happy. When they’re both so happy. Tav had no idea a part of her found family was missing until coming across Callum.

Speaking of found family …

“Karlach!”

When Tav reenters the kitchen, her red tiefling companion is kneeling down with her arms thrown out, sporting the biggest grin from pointy ear to pointy ear. “There’s my favorite little soldier!” Callum races towards her, throwing open his own arms as he jumps. Karlach pretends to almost fall over when she catches him. “Oh my gods, kiddo. Have you gotten bigger since I last saw you?”

Callum buries his face in her neck, soaking up as much of the barbarian's warmth as he can. “I missed you!” he exclaims into her shirt collar.

Karlach swings side to side, squeezing him tighter (but not too tight). “I missed you too, Callum. Been taking care of your mum, yeah?”

He pulls away and nods vehemently, making his blue curls bounce with the movement. “Yeah! I protect Mama from the scary monsters!”

Karlach ruffles his hair. “Good job, Callum.”

The second visitor slides in behind his partner. “On the subject of protection, I’ve got a little something for you.”

“Hi, Dammon! I missed you!”

Dammon, too, ruffles Callum’s blue locks. “Missed you too, kid.” The blacksmith reaches into his satchel and pulls out something wrapped in a cloth. Callum automatically leans forward out of curiosity, letting go of Karlach altogether. “Maybe you could use this to fend off those scary monsters.”

“What is it?” he asks.

Dammon removes the the cloth and crouches down to the Callum’s level. “Why, a sword, of course.” Karlach and Tav give a chorus of oohs and ahs. “The perfect weapon for a warrior of your esteemed caliber.”

Callum flaps his hands, jumping up and down, excitement radiating off him in waves. “A real sword?” he shouts. “For me?”

“If your mum will allow it.”

Callum whirls around, clasping his hands close to his cheek and brown eyes wide, a lethal combination meant to weaken the heart of their target. “Mama! Can I? Can I have the sword? Please?”

It doesn’t take a trained eye to know the weapon is fake. It’s made of wood and the blade is painted silver. The hilt’s adorned with dyed twine and a few faux gems for embellishment. To a small child, this is as real as it gets. Tav walks over and cards her fingers through his already messy hair, a scrutinizing pout adorning her face. “I don’t know,” she sighs. “Swords are very dangerous.”

Four year olds are not above begging. “Please, Mama! Puh-lease! ”

It’s fake, of course she’s planning to let him keep the gift. Tav still acts as if she’s thinking it over. “I suppose,” she says, dragging out the words. “As long as you say thank you to Dammon for making it.”

Callum whoops. “Yay!” Then he faces the tieflings again. “Thank you, Dammon!”

Dammon looks up to Tav and winks. She winks back. The hyperactive child quickly recaptures their attention by bouncing yet again. “Alright then.” Dammon then gets down on one knee and bows his head while holding out the wooden sword. “It was my deepest honor and pleasure, Sir Callum.”

Oh, Callum is eating this up. The newly minted knight looks back at his mother one more time, making sure he still has permission. A quick, encouraging nod from Tav lets him know he’s good to go. Callum gingerly reaches for the sword and takes it into his hands. “Wow …” he whispers.

“What do you think of the sword, soldier?” Karlach asks.

Words cannot properly express what Callum is thinking. He’s barely four years old after all. So Callum takes the sword by the hilt and holds it high above his head, shouting, “I have a sword!”

“Yes, you do,” Dammon agrees.

Karlach jumps back into her feet. “Hey! Let’s say you and I have a spar in the courtyard later, yeah?”

“Yeah!” With that, Callum starts showing off his swordsman skills, slashing and jabbing in a way only a child could. He even provides the sound effects. Tab, Karlach, and Dammon laugh along at his antics.

A scoff from the third and final visitor has everyone looking in his direction. “Wyll had better watch out,” croons a familiar voice. Tav digs her finger nails into her palms. “Our little bird here may be coming for his title as the Blade of Frontiers.”

If they thought the boy was excited at the previous company, they are immediately proven wrong. Callum’s smile shines so big and so bright, the sun may turn green with envy. It’s almost too bright for the pale elf. “Asty!” he cries.

“Hello, dear.”

Tav irrevocably changed Astarion’s life and his worldview. She made him a better person, a better man, an upstanding citizen of society who’s willing to help others without a second thought (sometimes). If not for her, he might’ve ended up dead, still under the control of his now dead master, or, worse yet, he could’ve turned into Cazador. For as long as he’ll live, no one will ever mean more to him than that kind hearted woman. Which is why it hurts to see her here and now. She’s married with a child, albeit an adopted child and the marriage was for purely political reasons.

To add salt to his wound, there’s also the matter of said child, Callum himself. Astarion is not immune to the boy’s charm. He’s actually quite fond of him. Hells, he would kill for Callum. By some cosmic fluke, the boy seems to share the sentiment (just to be clear, the fondness, not the killing). He can’t help wondering if Callum gets this excited seeing Tav’s husband. It would be rather uncouth to ask, right?

Astarion smirks, perfectly masking all of the rampant thoughts clouding his mind. “I was wondering when you’d notice me,” he says. “I was starting to feel neglected.”

Callum charges at Astarion like a horse wearing blinders, who then scoops him up with practiced ease. The vampire gets a small poke from the sword for his troubles. “Ah, do mind the blade of your weapon, Mr. Monster Slayer,” he tuts. “This monster is on your side and won’t require any slaying, thank you very much.”

The little boy gasps. “You’re not a monster, Asty! You’re so nice!” He throws his little arms and hides in the man’s neck, ironically on the side with the bite marks. “I love you!”

Astarion isn’t too proud to admit he’s grown to have a soft spot for children (and cats), but Callum has him wrapped around his little finger. That doesn't make the unprompted proclamation any less nerve racking. Gods below, he is so much like his mother, ready to befriend almost anyone. If they were alone, he would’ve waxed poetic about his odd friendship with Callum, but today there is an audience, a very particular audience. “Thank you. I … I love you too, Callum,” he says back, refusing to make contact with anyone but the boy. For fuck’s sake, he has a reputation.

Karlach takes this prime opportunity to tease the vampire. “Awe, is that a faint blush coloring big bad Astarion’s cheeks?”

“No,” he’s quick to say. Too quick. Even if he really was blushing, he knows the callout would’ve caused more blood to rush his face and ears. But he is not blushing. Curse Karlach for bringing him here. “For your information, I haven’t fed in a while so that’s not possible.”

Tav, amazing and kind and sometimes alarmingly generous Tav, frowns. The crinkle in her brow oozes concern and it makes his undead heart ache. “Oh no, are you okay, Astarion? Later I could let you …” She lets her words trail off, but the implication is obvious. No one’s hidden the fact that he’s a vampire from Callum. They do tend to spare the gorier details for good measure.

He shakes his head. “Thank you, dear, but I simply couldn’t.” She’s only offering because her husband isn’t around. He’s also aware of Astarion’s condition and gets this pinched look on his face whenever Tav invites through the front door. Or perhaps he’s aware Astarion is in love with his wife. Who’s to say?

“Yes, you can, Astarion, because I’m offering.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”

“But I insist.” He wants to accept, not only to be close to her again, but he’s genuinely thirsty. Most of the blood that crosses his path these days goes to the many ravenous spawn who followed him and siblings after the fall of Cazador.

Karlach snorts. “It’s either her or me, Fangs.”

Astarion blanches at the tiefling. “Er, no. I’ll have to pass, Karlach. Despite fixing your overheating problem ages ago, your blood is still much too spicy for my taste.” It’s the equivalent of biting directly into an Altheian chili pepper. Walking directly into the sun would burn less than stomaching her blood.

Tav shrugs. She puts on an airs of nonchalance since she thinks she’s won this argument. “That only leaves you one choice then, doesn’t it?”

He has a comeback though. “Ah ah, incorrect, my sweet. I also have the choice of not eating at all.”

Callum jerks back suddenly, a devastated expression on his face. “You have to eat, Asty. You have to. Food is good for you.”

Tav has crossed the room so she’s standing on his opposite side. Fantastic. Now he has both mother and son staring him down. “Exactly, Callum’s right. You need to feed.”

And, of course, Karlach, the loud mouth, has to throw her two gold pieces in. “Yeah, Fangs. We can’t have you starve to death.”

His eyes nearly roll to the back of his head. “That literally can’t happen—” Which all the adults in the room are fully aware of. Fuck you, Cazador. Burn in whatever level of the Hells he got shoved into. “—but alright, fine. Later.”

Relieved, Tav smiles and places a hand on his free shoulder. “Thank you.”

Astarion scoffs. “You’re thanking me? You’re the one offering bl—” A quick glance to the child makes him remember to rethink his words. “Food . You’re offering me food when you absolutely don’t have to. Thank you, Tav, you stubborn, selfless woman.”

Her hand slides from his shoulder to his back, finding the space between his shoulder blades. She rubs soothing circles there. “Of course. You’re one of my best friends. I worry about you.”

The contact sends goosebumps all over his body. Hold it together, Ancunin. “The concern is appreciated, darling, but I can handle myself.”

“I know, Astarion,” she says. “But still. That’s what friends do. We look after one another.”

He both loves and hates the title. It causes his stomach to do a somersault and also drop like a heavy stone.

“You’re my best friend, Asty!”

A better distraction couldn’t have come along. “Am I now? Well, I feel honored.” He tosses a cheeky grin at his competition. “Hear that? I’m his best friend.”

Karlach’s jaw drops. The next few minutes are about to get interesting. “I thought I was your best friend, Callum.”

The little boy taps his chin in deep thought and points between them respectively. “Um, Asty’s my best friend. And Karlach’s my best friend. And Dammon’s my best friend.”

The blacksmith shrugs. “That’s fair. Though I’m just happy to be included.”

Astarion swivels so Callum’s back is to the rest of them. “Yes, of course, we’re all your best friends. How sweet and diplomatic. But I’m your favorite, right?”

Karlach rushes over, and is it suddenly a little warmer than it was a second ago? “I’m his favorite.” She tries to place herself in Callum’s line of sight, but Astarion swivels away again. And again. And again.

At this point he’s spinning in a circle. “Excuse me, you saw how utterly delighted he was when he saw me.”

Never one to back down from a challenge, Karlach starts walking in a circle too, following Astarion and Callum’s rotation. It’s officially a game of keep away with Tav’s son. “What? He didn’t even notice you at first, you said so yourself.”

He waves her off. “It’s hard to miss the large, exuberant, bright red tiefling smack dab in the middle of the kitchen.”

She sticks her tongue out. “Whatever makes you feel better, Fangs.”

Who cares if she could throw him and Callum over her shoulder like it’s nothing; he’s going to throttle her. “If you don’t believe me, ask him.” Astarion abruptly stops, grabs the boy under the arms, and holds him out. “Callum, dear sweet and so very brave, Callum. Tell that wretched Karlach I’m your favorite best friend. Also, you’re very adorable. And a great swordsman.”

Karlach elbows the man none too gently. “No, Callum. Tell yucky, stinky Asty I am your favorite.”

Meanwhile, Tav and Dammon stand back, amused and entertained. “How is my four year old more mature than these two full grown adults?”

“Baffles me as well,” he says. “Still love them though, right?”

Tav has to look away, hoping he doesn’t notice the blood rushing to her face. “Mhmm. Still love them.”

“Callum.”

“Callum.”

“Callum!”

“Tell him, Callum!”

“Stop,” Callum shouts, shocking both of them. He points his sword to the side. “I love you both. But … Mama’s my favorite.”

Dammon barks out a laugh at the plot twist. Tav glides in and takes her son into her arms, even does a little twirl. “Awe. You’re my favorite too, Callum.” She pulls him in for a big kiss on his chubby little cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Mama.” Tav peppers a dozen more kisses all over his face, resulting in a fit of giggles and squeals.

Astarion averts his eyes, trying so hard to ignore the roil of yearning churning in his gut. Is he really jealous of a toddler? Pathetic. Someone clears their throat, making him look back up. Karlach is staring at him, hard, and she flicks her eyebrows. What’s this about? He narrows his eyes trying to discern her intentions, to which she smiles knowingly then looks back at Tav. She makes eye contact again then silently mouths tell her now.

As if it’s as easy as that! As if Astarion could just walk up to Tav and just tell her he loves her with every fiber of his being. He’s fucked up way too many times for that to ever happen. He’s fucked up too many times for her to ever return his love. And even if by some miracle she did love him back, she’s in a publicly favored marriage. (To be honest, he’d be perfectly content as the mistress, but he would never put her in that position.)

Karlach’s support, however well-intentioned, is ultimately pointless. The pale elf and the sunny druid are not meant to be, much to his chagrin. Because he apparently can’t help it, his gaze drifts towards Tav again. Mother and son glow with love, affection, and warmth, something he was forced to leave behind when they’d finally rid themselves of the parasites. It’s too much for his heart to take. Without a word, Astarion turns on his heel and heads for the front door. Best to commiserate in solitude, maybe back in his fortress in the Underdark, but …

“Asty? Where are you going?”

Shit. So much for being a stealthy rogue. Now to have a go at persuasion. “Just stepping out for a moment, little bird.”

Callum pouts in the most irritatingly precious way. “You’re leaving?”

Great, now he feels bad. He really is wrapped around the boy’s finger. “No. I was in need of some fresh air, is all. I’ll be right back.”

The boy wiggles until Tav places him down. Then he runs over and grabs Astarion’s hand. “I’ll go with you. I’ll protect you from the scary monsters.” He punctuates the statement with a slash of his new sword.

Tav can sense something is wrong, though she has no idea exactly what it is. “Um, Callum, perhaps you should wait here with me.”

Right on cue, the dramatic, overconfident facade slips back into place. “But what if there’s a monster, dear? You would leave poor little me defenseless? Now who’s the monster?”

As always, she sees right through it. “Are you sure?”

He keeps at it. “Absolutely, darling. He’ll have me back within the hour.”

“Okay.” Tav has that wrinkle in her brow again and she crosses her arms. He is in for an interrogation later. “Be safe. Both of you.”

“Bye, Mama!”

She waves back. “Bye.”

Astarion catches her eye and gives a playful wink before speaking to Callum. “Let’s go, Mr. Monster Slayer. I think I saw a vendor in need of saving on our way in. He might give you some sweet treats as a reward.”

“Yay!”

The pair leaves as Astarion goes into some tall tale of his adventures since he’d visited last. Tav is left trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. They’re friends. Tav and Astarion are friends, nothing more. He made it abundantly clear in the past that he has no romantic interest in her. And she insisted they be friends. Not to mention she’s married now. To a widely known public figure. It can never happen. Never ever. As much as she wished it could.

And yet the druid can’t rid herself of the image of Callum’s face when he laid eyes on Astarion. He doesn’t even get that excited when Terrick, the man raising him, returns from his business trips. Not that she can blame her son. She definitely prefers the company of the vampire over her husband. She prefers any of her friends’ company over her pretentious husband.

Not that she’s ever voice that out loud.

She roughly has half an hour to get herself under control. When they return, she’ll send Dammon, Karlach, and Callum outside for the ‘sparring session.’ Inside, she’ll allow Astarion to feed then question him about whatever seems to be a bother. She won’t be able to focus properly if she’s too busy staring lovingly into his beautiful ruby red eyes or imagining herself dragging her fingers through his soft hair or—no, stop it. Stop it.

It’s been years. Get over it. Focus.

Tav suddenly claps her hands together, starling her remaining guests. “Okay. While you get settled in a guest room, I’ll put together some snacks. Dinner won’t be ready for another hour or so.”

Karlach opens her mouth to say something, but Dammon grabs her by the hand and starts pulling her out of the room. “Sounds perfect, Tav. Thank you for letting us stay the night.”

She’s too preoccupied with forcing herself to compartmentalize her feelings to realize she missed something. “You’re welcome.”

In their room, Dammon shuts the door and looks at his partner disapprovingly. He’s got his arms crossed and one foot tapping a steady rhythm on the rug. Karlach hates it. “What?” she whisper-yells.

“You know what.”

She begins to pace because she is not a fan of standing still. “They’re my best friends, Dammon! And they’re totally oblivious to each other's feelings.”

“I know, but it’s not your place.”

She smirks, hoping to lighten the mood. “Isn’t it?”

He pinches the ridge of his nose and sighs. “No, love, it’s not.”

She pouts. “Why not?”

He rolls his eyes. “Because they’re both adults. If they wanted to express how they felt for one another, they could do it themselves.”

Karlach throws her arms out, but keeps her voice at a whisper. “But they won’t express how they feel because they both think the other thinks of them as just a friend because of all the shit that happened when we had worms in our heads.” Miscommunication, manipulation, and misinformation. It was truly a mess back then. Still is, apparently.

Dammon sits down on the bed and leans forward with his elbows on his knees. “That may be true, but it’s still not your place to speak on behalf of either of them.” He cocks an eyebrow. “Need I remind you that Tav is currently married.”

It’s her turn to roll her eyes. “She doesn’t love that soggy sponge, Terrick. She only did it so she could help the city. Bloody hells, she held her wedding outside, at night just so Astarion could attend.”

She makes a fair point. “I know, I know.”

The big red tiefling sits down next to him. “I want them to be happy, Dammon. They’re not happy.”

“Under these circumstances, they can’t be together.” Karlach lets out a frustrated growl. “Things can change though. Circumstances can change. There’s hope that one day those two will finally wake up and see what’s right in front of them with no obstacles in the way.”

“You really believe that?”

He straightens up and reaches for her hand again, this time meshing their fingers together. “That’s what I want to believe, love.”

She huffs. “Me too.”

He gives her hand a squeeze. “Promise to leave them be during our stay?”

And there’s that pout again. “Ugh, yes. Promise,” she grumbles.

“Thank you.” Dammon tilts towards her and places a light kiss on her cheek. Their tails intertwine behind them. “Now come on. She may not be happy, but I think having friends around makes things better.”

“I think so too.” They both stand up and head for the kitchen again. Just before opening the door, Karlach blocks it and grins wickedly at her partner. “But I know what would make her even happier .”

“Karlach.”

She relents. “Gods, kidding. Just kidding, Dammon.” Mostly.

…

She plays with his hair, purposely messing it up. “I saw them, Callum.”

He yanks on her arm, trying to pull her offstage. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

His eagerness is infectious. “We’re going, we’re going,” she laughs. Tav makes sure to signal them to stay put where they are, she and Callum will come to them.

Most of the people have dispersed by now, either having gone inside to use the food bank or left after the speeches. It’s not difficult for the little boy to navigate through what’s left. Tav can’t deny her own eagerness to reunite with everyone. She’s missed them all dearly. It’s been years since so many of them have been in the city concurrently, not since the final fight against the Elder Brain. Lae’zel immediately ran into a battle to save her people from Vlaakith. Wyll and Karlach went to Avernus. Gale stayed behind for a little while, but eventually left for a position at Blackstaff Academy. Astarion is no longer safe from the sun so he went into the Underdark. Shadowheart stayed the longest, but she too ventured out of the city, following Aylin and Isobel.

Tav considered asking to tag along with someone, but she felt it wasn’t her place to insert herself into their lives. If they wanted her around, surely they would’ve invited her … right? So she stayed, in wait for when any of her friends would pass through the Gate again. She grew very lonely, then again, she should be used to solitude. That was her life before the Nautiloid, why would things change after?

Karlach breaks away from the party and meet them in the middle. “Oh look, if it isn’t our fearless leader and the brave little soldier!” She snatches up Callum, who squeals with joy. “Don’t you two look ready for an adventure out in the woods.”

Tav rolls her eyes. “Shut it.” She didn’t pick this ridiculous frock.

Gale, the gentleman he is, steps up to defend her honor. “Well, I think you look positively radiant, Tav.” He takes one of her hands and presses a chaste kiss to her knuckles.

Tav does a small curtsy in return. “Thank you, Mr. Dekarios.”

“The color doesn’t suit you,” Lae’zel says. That’s it. No proper greeting.

Shadowheart points a sour look at the gith warrior. “Tactful as always, I see.”

Wyll joins the conversation. “Lae’zel, does the phrase if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all ring any bells?”

“No,” she says, slightly defensive. “And I fail to see why you mention it. The color of her dress isn’t visually appealing and by informing her, she won’t make this mistake again in the future. If anything, I’m being very nice.”

“To be fair,” Tav says, in Lae’zel’s defense. “I have half a mind to take a dagger and cut myself out of the bodice. It’s suffocating.”

“A dagger? Darling, you know I always carry one or two on me.” Astarion steps out of the alleyway carrying an enchanted umbrella in one hand and a dagger in the other. And not just any dagger, but the Sussur dagger she forged specifically for him early on in their travels. Back when they fooled around like a couple of innocent teenagers and she thought she had a chance. Back before she knew what he’d been through and gave up that chance. “Allow me the honors?”

Tav has to make a show of pretending to be flustered, while actually being flustered. “As tempting as your offer may be—” And gods, is it tempting. “—I’ll have to pass.”

Oddly enough, instead of dropping the smirk, it ticks up a little higher. He tucks his weapon away. “Boo. No fun.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Astarion,” she comments dryly.

He does a sort of half bow. “And it’s always a pleasure to see you, dear.”

“Asty!”

Karlach must’ve put him down at some point and now her son is charging at Astarion. Tav’s heart seizes in panic. “Wait, Callum, be careful!” The enchantment only works within the perimeter of the umbrella. If Callum accidentally knocks the vampire over, not only would it hurt him, it would also cause a huge scene.

Thankfully, Gale plucks the child up before any harm can be done. “Hello, Callum. Don’t you look dashing?”

The little boy frowns and tugs on his collar. “I don’t like these clothes. I can’t play in them.”

The wizard frowns in sympathy. “I can’t play in my clothes either.”

Feeling shy, Callum looks away. “But … can you still do magic?”

“Hmm. Let’s see, shall we?” With a flick of the wrist and a couple hand gestures, Gale conjures up a small glowing prism. “It appears so,” he says with a smug grin.

Callum cautiously reaches to touch it, but when the prism abruptly changes shape, he flinches back in surprise. Now it’s in the form of a sphere. The boy claps with excitement. “I love magic!”

“Me too.”

Astarion clears his throat. “Yoohoo! Hello! I'm the one you were going for. Not Professor Chatty.”

Gale tuts at the vampire. “If I hadn’t stepped in, you would’ve turned to ash”

“Gods below,” Astarion mutters. “I can handle a toddler bumping into me.”

Shadowheart arches a challenging brow. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“I have my doubts,” Lae’zel interjects. No one can tell if she’s being serious or only teasing. Either way, it has everyone else (but Astarion) laughing.

Callum sees that he’s upset and holds out his arms. He makes grabby hands. “Don’t be sad, Asty. I love you.”

Those three little words still do a number on the man’s unbeating heart. Gale holds out the boy enough that Astarion can safely grab hold of him. Once he’s situated on his hip, he takes a deep breath. “I love you too, as long as I’m still your favorite.”

The Blade of Frontiers detects a lie. “I wasn’t there, but I heard you weren’t his favorite.” Astarion glares at him. Wyll holds up his hands in surrender. “Unless I heard wrong.”

Karlach snorts. “You didn’t.”

Shadowheart rolls her eyes. “You’re not the favorite either.”

And the tiefling drops her head in shame. “Ah, don’t remind me.”

Gale perks up at the news. “Wait, am I—”

“No.”

And he too drops his head. “Oh …”

Lae’zel shakes her head. “Chk. Of course his mother is his favorite. Only a fool would believe otherwise.”

Astarion glares at the fighter. “Tav shouldn’t count. Everyone loves her. She’s always the favorite.”

She’s certainly not Terrick’s favorite and that is a fact. Tav gasps, feigning defensiveness. “Excuse me? I don’t count?”

If he could, he’d pinch the ridge of his nose, but alas his arms are full of children and umbrellas. So he just closes his eyes, too frustrated to look at her. “That’s the part you clung to?”

Now she’s preening. “Don’t worry, I also heard you say I’m your favorite.”

Fuck. Is he blushing? He fed on a deer last night. Would the shade from the umbrella obscure the change in tint? “I said you were the favorite, dear. Not my favorite. Do get your hearing checked.”

Tav cocks her head to the side like a curious owlbear cub. “So I’m not your favorite?”

“As of right now, no.”

She lays her head on his shoulder, feeling bold today. “You love me.” Not in the same way that she loves him (or so she thinks), but she’ll take what she can get.

Definitely not blushing. Definitely not blushing. “I tolerate you and your obnoxious goody-two-shoes personality.”

The druid is feeling very bold, perhaps a tiny bit masochistic. “Awe, I love you, too, Astarion.” And she pecks him on the cheek. The regret floods her mind and body as soon as she pulls away. Shit. But it’s fine! Friends can show other friends physical affection. Gale kissed her hand not five minutes ago. She plants one on her son next. “A-and I love you, Callum.”

“I love you, Mama!” Callum places a small kiss on Astarion’s other cheek. “I love you too, Asty!” He then proceeds to tell everyone in the vicinity that he loves them, therefore saving Tav from having to kiss each and every one of her friends in order to cover her own ass. Crisis averted. Gods, that boy is a blessing.

So is Gale. “So, Tav, do you have to stay here at the food bank or are you free for the day?”

Her heart flutters in anticipation. Is he going to suggest they all do something together? Robyn hopes so. “I’m done,” she says quickly. “Nothing left to do here. I have no plans.”

“Splendid! Since this is the first time in a long time we’ve all been in the city, I say we should spend the day together.” He looks around their circle of friends. “Any objections?”

Karlach shakes her head. “Nope.”

“None at all,” Wyll agrees.

It’s happening! She could weep from joy. “That’s a great idea, Gale,” Tav exclaims. “I love it.” She can barely contain her excitement. She has fistfuls of her dress in her hands—oh wait. “Uh, I do need to head home first.”

“No,” Callum whines, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. “I don’t want to go! I want to stay!”

Gods, so does she. Tav stands with her hand on her knees. “Don’t you want out of these stuffy clothes?” He nods. “Then we need to go home to do that, okay?” She holds out her arms to take him from Astarion.

The boy doesn’t move. “Then we can come back?”

Tav taps the tip of his nose, drawing out a small giggle. “Then we can come back. Promise.” Satisfied with his mother’s answer, he climbs into her arms. “Give me two hours, tops. Wait for us in the Elfsong.”

“Why so long?” Shadowheart asks.

Tav deadpans at the question. “My wonderful husband took the carriage, which means I get to walk back to the Upper City.” She worries her lip between her teeth. “Unless someone has to leave soon, in which case, I will stay.” She’ll suffer through discomfort if it means spending time with everyone.

The cleric is quick to reassure her. “No no, that’s fine. No one has to leave yet.”

“Oh. Good. Thank you.” She adjusts her grip on her son and starts to walk away. “I’ll try not to take too long then.”

Karlach goes over and nudges the vampire forward. “Fangs, go with her. A proper lady like her needs an escort.”

Tav almost trips on a dip in the road when she spins around to face them. “O-oh, no, it’s fine. He doesn’t have to—you don’t have to if you don’t want to, Astarion. You can wait with the others in the tavern.”

Callum bounces in Tav’s arms. “Asty’s coming?”

“No, he’s going to wait—”

He holds out his arm. “I want him to come.”

Astarion turns and gives the barbarian a face that reads I’m going to fucking kill you. Karlach just gives him a shit-eating grin. When he turns back to the mother and son, he’s all smiles. “It seems the decision has been made for us, hm?” He ambles over then extends the arm not holding the umbrella. “Shall we?”

Tav hesitates. In that moment of hesitation, she comes up with several reasons she should continue to insist he stay. It takes another moment for her to convince herself to ignore herself. Tav ultimately switches Callum to her other hip then grabs his arm. “If you’re sure. Will the enchantment last?”

Gale scoffs. “Of course it will last. I cast the spell myself.” He shoos them along. “Off, you three. While the day is still young.”

A bundle of nerves settles itself in her gut. She trusts Astarion. She trusts him with her life. More importantly, she trusts him with Callum’s life. The one she doesn’t trust right now is herself. “Okay …” Tav looks up at the vampire and tries for her best imitation of a genuine smile. “Let’s go then.”