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WAKE UP EVERYONE A NEW CHAPTER OF Remember ye not the former things JUST DROPPED

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Chapter 17: Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.

Astarion begins to unravel the mystery of Ban's family.

Professionally edited and collaborated on by my dearest friend <3 @editing-by-night

Masterlist

Art by @nyx-knox <3

Astarion sat with his legs crossed. The stool was as filthy as when he’d last seen it, but he’d accepted it this time, if only to accentuate the desired effect. In front of him Roderich dithered, trying to explain away his actions - not that Astarion cared. He forced his attention back onto the man, as unpleasant as it was, and leaned forward.

“It was a desperate time. There wasn’t enough money to fund our… our way of living, and the guild is rich. Far richer than it had any right to be,” Roderich stammered. “Meiros must have taken some too! I’m sure he skimmed some off the top as well, considering there was no one to look into his activities. He’s just as guilty, his hands just as bloody. I don’t see why you would even begrudge me this!”

None of this stayed in Astarion’s mind. He had considered the information irrelevant. “Repeat the last thing you said,” he drawled. “Your bleating proved too much for me.”

Roderich clenched his jaw, looking out the store windows. The moment Astarion had walked in and demanded an audience he had sent his customers away, telling them to come back in half an hour. They were outside, waiting, and the minutes were ticking by. “I just think… this conversation should be held somewhere else, if at all.”

If at all. If nothing else, he could admire Roderich’s nerve. He lazily looked over to the small group of people waiting outside. Behind them his carriage loomed, black and gold and waiting to whisk him away from this drivel.

“Oh, but I haven’t yet touched on why we’re having this conversation.” He crossed his arms. “Did you really think I would care about you stealing guild funds?”

“I suspected you wanted to punish me for… for whatever imagined slights you think we committed against our daughter.” He took a deep breath. “We’ve done nothing of the sort. She may have been unhappy, but everything we did was for her wellbeing - her success.”

“Your success,” Astarion corrected. “I daresay I’ll be the judge of whether wrongdoings were committed or not - and they have,” he glared, “but that isn’t why I’m here. Nor is it why I’m bringing up your financial indiscretions.”

Astarion looked at Roderich, relishing the way the older man looked at him - equal parts fear and indignation. He could feel Roderich’s anger bubbling, his wariness keeping him from allowing it to boil over. Any other man would have assumed Astarion couldn’t do much in public, with the crowd peering at them as it was. But Roderich knew that if he pushed him too far, he’d find himself waking up to fangs sinking into his neck.

So Astarion waited for Roderich to master his temper, idly looking past him to the display of mirrors. He was reflected in all of them, from various angles, and he couldn’t resist admiring himself a little. From the corner of his eye he saw two of the patrons outside fanning themselves and rolled his eyes.

Finally Roderich found his voice. “Then what was this visit for?”

Astarion smiled and returned his attention to Roderich. “A matter near and dear to Ban’s heart, and therefore mine. Your son.”

Roderich spluttered. “Adrien? We already told you-”

“And we are painfully aware you’re lying.” He gazed at Roderich’s reflection, eyes boring into him. “Don’t make it difficult, Roderich. We can have a nice, civil conversation,” he thought about it, “or I’ll have to resort to less… pleasant measures.”

Roderich sighed. “I… of course. I would at least prefer to talk in private. Perhaps in my home.”

“Fine. I can’t keep the good citizens desperately wanting mirrors waiting, can I?” There was also the fact he figured having Arlette around for this conversation might be better - if only so that he could have all possible information at hand. That, and watching the people peering at him through the glass was starting to grate.

“Thank you,” Roderich breathed. “After the day is done, head there. I can have Arlette prepare supper, and you could bring Ban.”

Astarion stood. Roderich tracked every move he made, but didn’t speak. Astarion stepped closer, enough so that he could look down at him. “Just me, unfortunately. My wife has far more important business to attend to. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

The raised eyebrow made Roderich shrink back, to Astarion’s satisfaction. The man rubbed at his bald head. “Why of course. We’d be more than happy to host you.”

A wide smile graced Astarion’s face, the tips of fangs peeking out. “I’m glad to know that. Provide my chauffeur with your address, and I shall be there tonight.”

The house was large, situated against the walls of the upper city, although just like the shop it showed signs of neglect. As he approached, the door opened before he could even rap his knuckles against it. Arlette’s pale face greeted him and this time her eyes did not rake over his features. As he stepped into the house she looked at his feet and cleared her throat.

“Erm. Your shoes, if you would be so kind.”

He fixed her with a pointed look and stepped forward anyway. The request reminded him of Ban, but he brushed the thought aside. She had stayed home, knowing he was handling the issue with her family. Seeing them again would not do her any favors.

Arlette hurried alongside him, walking fast to keep up with his longer strides. As he walked he took in the house. Ban had lived here most of her life. He allowed his mind to wander a little, musing. Where would she have sat? Had her room been neat? Had she owned dolls? Read books? Had she dreamed of adventures, or being swept off her feet by a dashing prince?

His thoughts were interrupted by Arlette. “I hope you don’t mind. We weren’t sure what you’d prefer to… eat, but we assumed some soup and roast would be-”

Astarion held up a hand. “I prefer we skip the niceties and get to the matter at hand. Where - or rather,” he scanned the house - what he could see of it anyway - finding no sign of a third person, “when am I ever to see this son of yours?”

He had surmised that he wouldn’t see Adrien in his brief conversation with Roderich earlier today. The man had said that he would explain everything, whatever that meant, as he’d hurried Astarion out the door.

As he turned the corner and entered the dining room he saw Roderich sitting at the head of the table, waiting. Roderich stood as Astarion walked in, obviously tense. “There was no need for all that unpleasantness earlier today. We would have told you, had we known what you wanted.”

Astarion sat on the opposite end of the table, steepling his fingers and settling in. He could almost taste their discomfort, and it was gratifying. “We provided you the chance to disclose everything civilly, remember? You chose to lie and be difficult.”

Roderich bristled, but Arlette put a hand on his shoulder. “You could have us removed from the guild, but the coin… it doesn’t exist anymore. It’s gone.” Her eyes locked onto his steepled fingers. “You’ve gotten married.”

“Hm?” He raised his hand for them to see. “Indeed we have. I won’t apologize for the lack of invitation. We wanted only those important to us in attendance.”

He savored the affronted looks from the couple, daring them to voice their complaints. When none came, his thoughts drifted back to the misappropriated guild funds.

He wasn’t surprised. Meiros had mentioned that the Glasscrafts were used to a life of relative luxury; the loss of customers and their retreat from active networking would have put a dent in that. Their theft from the Guild coffers had been discovered a few years ago but Meiros had deemed it unnecessary to take action at the time. Apparently, the amount of coin had not been significant, and he’d felt some pity for Roderich after the disappearance of his daughter was made known. In any case, Astarion was glad; it provided him ample ammunition to leverage the Glasscrafts with, if needed.

Astarion reached for the carafe, pouring himself a glassful of what looked like wine. He sniffed it, ascertaining it to be so, and took a small sip. It felt safe, at least.

“Whether the money is gone or not, all I have to do is to ask. Meiros will act at my behest.” He locked gazes with Roderich, allowing the silence to stretch. He lounged back, waiting.

Roderich broke, clasping his hands together. His eyes were downcast, fixed on his own hands. “After Ban left us, the… arrangement we had with her betrothed’s family fell apart. We needed to find another suitable arrangement, and so we quickly found an associate with a daughter around Adrien’s age.”

“He was displeased, just like she had been, and one night-” Arlette began, but Astarion held up a hand.

He laughed. “You drove both children off the same way? How very ironic. You’d think you’d have learned your lesson the first time, but no - you had to push the other away too!” The savage glee he felt definitely raised Arlette’s hackles - he saw her eye the fireplace poker.

“Oh. I wouldn’t even attempt that, Arlette.” He waved a hand at her. “Or you could try your luck, I suppose. I wouldn’t mind livelier fare tonight.” He gave her a quick grin, baring his fangs, and was satisfied when she backed down.

“A wise choice.” He curled his lip. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? ‘My son left, same as my daughter did, because I was an abusive ass’,” He copied Arlette’s cadence, the smile only widening as she seethed. His eyes then returned to Roderich. “Now. I’m assuming you know where your son went?”

He knew the answer was likely not. Ban had, after all, stayed in the lower city for several years, within the same city, and her parents had never bothered to seek her out. He surmised they were the type who would not deign to head into the lower city unless absolutely necessary.

Roderich sighed. “We asked everyone we could ask. All we know is that the night he left…” he glanced over at his wife; Arlette finally sat down beside him, glaring at Astarion.

“Contrary to your assumptions, my lord, Adrien’s departure was not like Ban’s.” She sneered, or her best approximation of one, anyway; her fear of him prevented her from managing true disdain. “He did not take anything with him. No clothes, no extra coin. No materials other than what he’d usually bring on a night out.”

“We had an argument,” Roderich interjected. “The usual one, about him wanting his… freedom,” he scoffed, “to choose his spouse, and how the girl we’d betrothed him to was a spoiled, overgrown child.”

“And ugly, to boot.” Arlette shrugged. “He wasn’t wrong, but really.”

“So he left to cool off. Not an unusual occurrence, except he didn’t return. We assumed he’d found someone to keep him company for the night, and would return on the morrow, but… he never did.”

The hardness in Arlette’s features disappeared for once. “We waited. Days, weeks, months. We asked folks that we knew. No one knew where he’d gone, nor had they seen him. It was as if he’d disappeared into thin air. There were whispers we heard then, rumors.”

To Astarion’s surprise, Roderich pointed an accusing finger at him. “You’re Szarr’s heir, are you not? You would know better than most. The stories of folk disappearing, of debauched parties in the night. You would know.”

His pique rose. “And you know someone who’s disappeared, beside your own children? Both of whom ran away of their own free will?” Astarion challenged. They’d been specifically forbidden from hunting in the upper city. Cazador had preferred victims from the lower classes, and rightfully so. Nobody ever went looking for them, not for long anyway.

Roderich looked away. “Well… no.”

“What does it matter? Whatever those rumors were alluding to - they’re obviously true!” Arlette stood and rounded on him, hands on the table. “Look at you. Look at what you made our child into.”

Astarion refused to allow their words to slip under his skin. Her anger was meaningless. All the same, he couldn’t resist baring his fangs at her. “I’d be careful pointing fingers, Arlette. Your daughter left too, and she didn’t end up as food for… monsters, did she?”

“Well, she became one herself!”

He laughed, the sound theatrical and dangerous. He stood as well. “Considering that she was raised by a pair of them, I doubt she found it much of a leap.”

Arlette screamed in frustration, scrabbling for the knife on the table. Astarion watched, amused, as Roderich slammed his hand down on her wrist, preventing her from aiming it at him.

“Let her go. Let her try, if she chooses to.” Astarion crossed his arms.

Roderich shot his wife a warning glare, then slowly lifted his hand away. She stood there for a second, chest heaving, hand clenched around the knife. Astarion merely stared indifferently.

Finally she cursed, letting go of the knife. “I would say I hope the gods curse you, but… I think you’re already there,” she spat.

He took it in stride. “Rude of you, really, when I’m here to find your son. Not to return him to you, of course, but I would have at least informed you when I found out if he was safe, something you two have obviously failed to determine.”

Roderich’s eyes bulged. “You dare-”

“Yes. I dare.” He picked up his glass and refilled it with painful, deliberate slowness, dragging the moment out. “I assume you asked people you knew, not people Adrien knew.”

“He didn’t have a lot of friends. He kept to himself.”

“Perhaps he did not prefer the company you made him keep?”

The two did not respond. Astarion swirled the wine lazily. “Tch. Your investigation was incomplete. If you employed the same methods you did when Ban first left, then you certainly haven’t even scoured this city, let alone further.”

Roderich gulped. “We… did not look for her.”

Astarion blinked. He balled his fists, and the urge to snap their necks was almost irresistible. “You… did not look for Ban, but looked for Adrien.” He said it slowly, enunciating each word, voice dripping with venom.

“She left with most of her belongings. And, well… Adrien was still there…” Arlette stammered, shrinking back as Astarion began to stalk towards them.

“Of course. Your beloved son was there, so what did her departure cost? Nothing.” He drew closer, eyes narrowed into slits. “Why would one failed arrangement matter, when you had the more valuable piece still in play, hm?”

He raised his eyebrow as Arlette finally grabbed the knife and lunged for him. Too slow, of course, but he admired her verve. Roderich reached for her, but Astarion was faster, catching her wrist effortlessly. He pulled her close, hissing against her ear.

“I would relish the opportunity to rip you apart, and then tear your husband into pieces,” he whispered. “But I doubt Ban would be pleased to find out that I’ve eviscerated her parents without asking her first. Consider this, however, your final warning. One more false move,” he pried the knife from her hands and set it down on the table, “and I will accept her ire and act in… well, let’s say self-defense.” He let her go, and she sank back onto her chair, her husband standing protectively behind her. He eyed Roderich.

“Any complaints?” He didn’t respond, and Astarion smirked. “I thought so.”

He leaned against the table, making a show of looking at his nails. “So. You did not bother to search for Ban, but did so for Adrien. Despicable, but unsurprising from you lot.” He raked his eyes over the pair. As much as he wanted to rip into them, there was the far more urgent need of actually finding out where Ban’s brother was. “When you say you searched for Adrien… who exactly did you talk to?”

“Like you said,” Arlette said, her voice small. “We asked the people we knew. The rumors about Cazador Szarr became the only lead we had. And it was just… that. Whispers. Someone knew someone who knew someone, who’d heard stories.”

Astarion shrugged. “No doubt it was easier to believe a monster had taken your son than to think the ones in his own home had pushed him away.” He glanced at them, daring them to try contesting his words. When no dissent came, he returned his attention to his fingernails.

“I shall be conducting my own investigation. If I find Adrien…” he considered this for a moment, “and he does not want to be found, I shall tell you of his survival at the very least, if you two cooperate with my search and never come close to either of them, ever again.”

“But-”

“It’s that, or I seek out Adrien on my own and you never learn what I discover. I’ll also request Meiros to very kindly look into the missing funds from the guild treasury. And were you to breathe a single word of what Ban and I are, well. I never refuse a free meal.”

The two exchanged a long glance, and then finally nodded. Satisfied, Astarion straightened up. “Are we agreed, then?” Slowly, they nodded again.

Astarion sat back down. “If you could provide more details - how Adrien looked, what he was wearing, the date of his disappearance, any other details you would deem pertinent - that would be delightful.”

“We last saw him four years ago, a year after Ban left. He was twenty-one then,” Roderich provided.

Four years younger than Ban, Astarion noted. “And the day?”

“Thirteenth, of Alturiak. It was a chilly, rainy night.”

This, he also noted. “Was he dressed appropriately?” If not, Adrien could not have gone far without purchasing a cloak.

“He was, to a point,” Arelette offered. “He was wearing the jacket I’d made him. It did not have a hood.”

Astarion sighed. That widened his circle somewhat, and reduced his chances. He had hoped to encounter a vendor who might have sold him clothes. He took a long look at the couple.

Arlette walked away, quickly leaving the dining room. He could hear her rummaging around and she came back with a locket. To his surprise she pressed it onto his palms.

“This is a portrait of Adrien. We stowed all the family portraits away when he disappeared. It was… too painful… to look at the mantelpiece and see his face. But this should help.”

He opened it to reveal a young man. There was a small tug of familiarity, and little wonder. He had strikingly dark eyes - Ban’s eyes. Raven-black hair, the same golden skin, the same half-smile. He could be her twin, he thought as he closed the locket.

Along with the locket was a cufflink. It looked expensive, jewel-encrusted, and he held it to the light.

“His favorite cufflinks. We never found the other.” Roderich nodded at it. “We assume he had it that night.”

Astarion pocketed both items and stood. “I shall write to you if there are any developments. If anything comes up, I shall expect the same courtesy. You do remember where to write, yes?”

“The Crimson Palace,” Roderich said, and Astarion smirked. He’d never forgiven the man for not knowing that the first time they’d met.

“Perfect.” He reached over and downed his glass. “Thank you for the dinner. It was most… enlightening.”

He gave them a small, sardonic bow, and headed for the door.

Astarion fingered the clasp of the locket as the carriage made for the palace, flicking it open with one hand. He stared at the face looking back at him, frowning. The other half of the locket had a piece of paper in it instead of a portrait, one seemingly folded in half. He reached in, pulling it out. The paper was thick; he unfolded it carefully.

The content of the paper was not what he expected, and not anything useful, but he was glad he’d opened it all the same. Ban, from years ago, her face less lined, a little fuller and far softer than she looked now. She was illuminated in what looked like a sunset; the golden light highlighting the side of her face that it hit. Her hair wasn’t tied back in her usual ponytail, or even the bun she occasionally preferred - it fell in loose, long waves, framing her face. He’d seen her with her hair down of course, but almost never in public.

He ran his finger down the side of her face, then traced those lips he’d come to know so intimately. His thoughts drifted back to her, of her youth spent in that house and in that shop. He couldn’t recall his own past - two centuries of torment had ensured it was all but gone - but he did not envy Ban hers. Astarion closed the locket, but kept her portrait for himself, pocketing it.

As the carriage drew to a stop and he stepped out, he spied her in the foyer, waiting. The sight never failed to make his heart swell, and he made a beeline for her.

“Home at last,” she said, as he drew close for a quick kiss. “I trust everything went well?”

“Mm… well enough.” He had no intention of informing her of anything until everything was laid bare, as they had agreed upon. “Some progress has been made, I would say, but nothing concrete as yet. You’ll have to wait a little longer.” He’d told her where he’d been headed, but had not informed her of any pertinent details.

She led him to the dining room, not bothering to turn towards him as she spoke. “It’s not a huge pain. I’ve… not even thought of them in so long. I can stand to wait a little longer to see how Adrien’s doing.”

He helped her into her seat before seating himself. Taking a bite from her fork, she eyed him. “Were your dealings with Meiros at least helpful?” Whatever their arrangement was, she hoped it had been useful.

“Yes… and no,” Astarion admitted. “I would have achieved the same effect without it, but it would probably have taken more… convincing. I would not have minded doing that, but you might have.”

Ban scoffed. “As prideful as they are, they’re cowards. They’re frightened of you - of… of us now, I suppose. I have little doubt they’d immediately cave.”

He laughed, remembering today’s encounter. “You’d be surprised. Your mother may or may not have attempted to kill me.”

“She wouldn’t.” Her eyes widened at the look on Astarion’s face. “You… you’re serious. Really?”

“With a knife, which I’m sure would have done the job, given enough time.” He began to eat. “I can see where you inherited your… spirit.”

“You mean to say my temper.”

He bit back a mirthful bark. “Your words, darling, not mine.”

There was silence for a while as they both ate. Astarion’s eyes flicked over to her, unconsciously comparing her face with the portrait that was now in his pocket. He burned with a desire to ask her for more, but wasn’t quite sure how to broach it.

Her eyes drifted away from Halsin’s wedding gift on the mantelpiece - a dragon sitting on its haunches - and noticed his staring. She tilted her head. “Something on my face?”

He shook his head. “Is there a reason why you wear your hair the way you do now?” He fingered the paper inside his pocket, then took it out, handing it to her.

She unfolded it, silent as she took in the portrait. “Mother preferred my hair down. Said it would hide the… features of my face. One of the few things she and I did not disagree on.”

Astarion considered this. He ran his eyes down her current - and now permanent - physique, mulling over the potential implications. She handed the portrait back to him and returned to her meal; he quickly stored it. He was sure he’d ask about it some other time, but for now, he was content with what she had revealed.

They were walking in the garden after dinner when he broached the topic. “Darling… was your mother the first person to tell you you aren’t… attractive?”

She paused and turned to look at him, half bent over to look at a particularly large rose. “What makes you think that?”

“Your comment about your hair. The way you always glance at the prettiest woman in any room, then down at yourself. The clothing choices - cloaks, capes.” He ticked these off with his fingers. “Even your hair. Held up now, yes, no longer quite hiding - but still plain. As if you feel like any adornment other than your braids would be a waste.”

“Well.” She took a deep breath, then plucked the flower. “Having my hair up became a habit after I ran away. Came with the job, really. Fighting with it loose would be unwise.” She straightened up, smelling the rose.

“And everything else?”

She chuckled. “Everything else you got spot-on.” She fell into stride beside him, tucking the flower by her ear.

“You are perfect, and your mother is a wretched woman whose opinions have no real merit, other than in her own miserable mind. You’d do well to realize none of her comments had any worth.”

Ban raised both arms, flexing them at him. “This isn’t what you’d normally see on a beautiful woman, Astarion. Not what most men would want, even.”

“Yet you chose that,” he noted. “Perhaps you wanted to be strong, truly strong, unlike what your mother wanted you to be.”

“She wanted me strong, but not in this way, that’s true. This I chose for myself.” She put her hands down, then ran her hand down the swell of a tricep. “I wanted it, yes, but I’m also aware this isn’t-”

“And why should we bother with the opinions of fools and miscreants who would not know how to tell a gem from a rock?”

“Because… I mean, Astarion. Let’s face it.” She took both of his hands, and he fixed his gaze on her. “Look at me. Then look at yourself. Tell me you don’t see what they see. You even said it yourself - they see me as a trivial matter in their path to you, right? Because I look the way I do.”

“Then they can shove their frankly insipid, dull ideas of attractiveness,” he snarled, “far, far up their own asses. And if they dared to breathe a word of it to you, or me… well.” A smile broke through her dismay, exactly as he’d hoped, and he led her to the fountain. He slipped behind her as they both admired it.

“You are beautiful to me,” he murmured, “and considering I am looked upon as world-endingly beautiful myself, that ought to mean something, shouldn’t it?” He leaned in, the humor slipping away. “Trust me.”

Those familiar words sent a shiver down her spine. Trust. Something she had given so freely before, and something she had been giving again recently, even though there were times that it still felt hard. It would be work, she knew - she’d need time to do better, just as he had - but she hoped she was at least making some headway. Her mind wandered, away from thoughts of her appearance to hoping this conversation was at least a sign of progress in his eyes.

“Ban?” Astarion paused from the path his lips had been making down her shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

Ban turned to focus on his face. She could see the fear beginning to creep in his eyes, and she quickly kissed him. He visibly eased, exhaling.

“I- I thought for a moment…”

“No. You did nothing wrong.” She kissed his jaw, then his cheek, running a comforting hand through his hair. He leaned into the touch, eyes shuttering. She fought the instinct to just leave it at that, and pushed on. “Can you tell me, love, if all this… everything I’ve been trying to do... Has it been working?”

“Your hair could stand to be decorated sometimes.” One look at her withering glare and he shifted gears. “Er - the wedding arrangements were more than sufficient,” he said automatically, “and I think everyone went home satisfied. Well, perhaps not Minsc, but-”

“Astarion,” she said, a note of urgency in her tone. “Quit deflecting. You know what I mean. Fixing… this. Us. Being better for you.” Somehow these words felt harder to say than even her wedding vows, and she tamped down the voice inside her that told her that this was unnecessary talk.

“Yes.” He met her gaze, uncertain, but unafraid. The irony was not lost on her. “I suppose the wedding and the whole…” he waved a hand, “...game, occupied most of our time recently, but, yes.” His eyes darted across her face, and he bit his lip. “I see more of you. Feel more of you.” As soon as he said it his eyes flicked away, and she caught it.

“Please?” she asked, and he exhaled.

“I would be lying if I said everything is perfect.” He braced himself, then met her gaze head-on. “It’s far too soon to tell for certain, and we’re both aware that wedding planning wasn’t the most… normal of times.”

“I understand.” She leaned forward and rested her head against his collarbone. “But I promise you. I will be who you want me to be… maybe not the hair, though.”

He chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around her. “I will adore you regardless of who you are and what you choose to look like, Ban. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

Astarion awoke from his trance just as the sun began to shine, its rays slipping in through a gap in the drapes. He stood up to close them, not wanting Ban to stir. Before he pulled them shut he stood, watching the light touch the wrought-iron fence that enclosed the palace grounds.

He’d have to begin his search somewhere, and it was likely that he would get no answers in the upper city, but he planned on sending some of his staff to ask around just in case. He would handle the lower city himself, figuring that would yield more results, considering Roderich hadn’t explored that option. It likely hadn’t even occurred to him until last night, the idiot.

The question, however, remained. What would happen once they found Adrien? The relationship between the siblings didn’t seem exactly… warm. His eyes wandered over to Ban’s sleeping form, worry creasing his brow.

What if her brother rejected her for what she’d become? For what they had done? There was no need for him to know, but he wasn’t sure if Ban would tell him everything - including the circumstances of the rite. Save for their companions, no one else knew of the price that had been paid. To everyone else, he was a regular noble. To the people he had met on their journey who knew what he was, he had merely found some means of being able to withstand the sun.

Well, other than the Society. They had quickly inferred that it had been a contract of sorts, no thanks to Omeluum. They had kindly kept the information confidential, but he was still irked at the thought that they knew at all. Ban had suggested keeping them close, to foster goodwill, which they had done.

He brushed away the unpleasant path his thoughts had taken. He needed to focus on the matter at hand. Sending out feelers in the upper city, and venturing into the lower city. Ban may know the names of some of Adrien’s associates, the ones their parents hadn’t approved of.

He merely hoped all this would lead to her finding some closure.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion ancunín #brabblesblog #fanfiction #not mine #banstarion #i haven't read it yet #but i know that when i do #i will come away feeling either horny sad or intrigued #and quite possibly an interesting combination of all three #see y'all on the other side

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