#It's kinda silly tho Vampires have no reflection shouldn't you see an empty outfit reflected in the mirror?

[lirotation]

I Hail from Silverymoon: The Mirror Image

Pov my little fanfiction: Astarion x Amaara (my human wizard Tav). At last, some fluff, even if he is not quite there yet.

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Amaara approached Astarion's tent and paused, her eyes drawn to his back as he gazed into a small mirror. Sensing her presence, he asked without turning, "See something you like?"

Flustered at being caught staring, she stammered, "How did you…"

"The only benefit to a mirror when you have my condition. It doesn't quite make up for the lack of a reflection, mind you." he said wryly.

"Do you miss it? Seeing your own face?" Amaara asked gently.

He turned to her, bitterness in his voice. "Preening in the looking glass? petty vanity? Of course I miss it." His tone gained an edge as he went on. "I've never even seen this face, not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red."

"What color were they before?" Curiosity was piqued. She had trouble picturing him with any but his striking red gaze. Maybe he had elf-spring colored eyes just like herself?

"I…I don't know." He looked down, shocked by the fact, pain flickered across his features, "I can't remember." Angrily he flung the mirror away. "My face is just some dark shape from my past. Another thing I've lost"

Seeing his anguish, Amaara's heart ached for him. She sensed the sadness and frustration he felt now that this simple mundane act of seeing oneself is denied to him. She could see that this is more than about petty vanity - he felt a sense of loss - of his old mortal self and identity that he can no longer see or recall clearly. She offered a reassuring smile. "For what it's worth, I find you have a very fine face, with piercing eyes and a dangerous smile. You fear this face a stranger's, but in my eyes, it is the beautiful visage of one who persevered." A blush colored her cheeks. "I could conjure a figment of you if you wish?"

Surprised, Astarion nodded. With a graceful gesture, Amaara conjured a mirror image of him. He examined it intensely, as if struggling to recognize himself. Slowly, he reached out a hand to the illusion, not quite touching it. For a moment, raw vulnerability crossed his face.

"You have not changed as much as you fear," Amaara said gently in Elvish, her voice filled with warmth and reassurance, "am I right?" Stepping closer, she planted a gentle kiss on the illusion's cheek. "I have the most beautiful man in the realms all to myself." Her smile grew even brighter as she saw him slowly relaxing, "I am the luckiest girl on Faerûn."

The tension in Astarion's frame eased as Amaara regarded the illusion fondly, her affection palpable. Though the figment was but a spell, it had stirred long dormant memories within him. Amaara's gentle reassurance was enough to banish the bitter shadows of all he had lost, if temporarily.

Her hopeful gaze seemed to see past his walls to hidden depths he wished kept concealed. But for this moment, he let down his guard and simply enjoyed her soothing presence.