Chapter Text
A knock at the door brought her back to reality with a jolt, the mattress beneath her shifting slightly in response. Astra sat with her feet hanging off the side, leaning forward to at least try to keep her tail elevated, the only real way she could control its position now. She tried not to think about that, tried not to think about much of anything, but her mind must have been wandering all the same.
“Astra? May I come in? It will only be for a moment, but I can come back later if you wish.” The voice called softly from the other side of the door, gentle despite its deep pitch.
“Yes.” She answered dumbly, not sure how to process the way the request had been made. It made no sense to pretend to ask for her thoughts, knowing they could force the door and make demands of her if they so wished, perhaps ready to collect on this debt she now owed them.
The handle creaked downwards, and the door opened slowly revealing the inquiring figure. Tall, broad shouldered, his grey hair and lined face showing signs of his age, a softness in the eyes that stayed on her as he stepped forward into the room. Cradled in his singular remaining arm was a large bowl of water, a few white strips of cloth draped over its edges.
“I’m sorry to disturb you without warning, only the state of your bandages was beginning to concern us.” He explained, nodding his head towards the sloshing bowl.
Astra could only stare back at him, body made rigid by the fear of moving without permission, though there was no intensity to the way he observed her reaction. Only patience as he walked to the foot of the bed, setting the items down before turning to her again. “I wanted to continue to give you your space, but the opinion of the infirmary is that it would be best to replace them with new material.” He said, almost apologetically.
Astra understood, knowing what they really meant. Better to at least keep the runaway stray in one piece before deciding what to do with it, before her injuries would ruin any more of this place’s bedclothes. She took a deep breath, and closed her eyes, waiting for the awful process to begin.
No action or movement came. Daring to open one eye, she saw the man had stayed exactly where he was, hesitating for some reason. It made no sense, nor did the sorrow coated sigh that left him.
“Astra, I can only imagine how difficult this is for you.” He began, void of the frustration or contempt she expected. “The doctors have given their thoughts on the matter, certainly, but no one will do anything to you that you don’t wish to happen. With your permission, I can reapply the wrappings myself, or I can instruct you on how to do so if you would rather I keep my distance. Or, given a little time, we could find a stronger healing potion for you to drink, one that would speed up the recovery process on its own. Whatever you think would be best for you right now.”
As he had explained patiently, Astra had found herself searching his words and his eyes, looking for the trick or the deceit. It was a favoured tactic, the unprepared body and soul all the more enjoyable to inflict cruelty upon, offers of respite or even reward dangled in front of them before being snatched away and replaced by fist and boot.
But even after all her time here in this place, that change, that reveal of true malicious intentions hadn’t arrived. It was incredibly foolish, to hope that this temple she had found in the midst of desperation was in fact safe, that the followers who lived within could stay true to their word and were happy and willing to help her.
Yet the light in his eyes, a sliver of something pure and undiluted drew her in all the same. Had her believing in the idea that she could choose, that the days she had spent here already in their care and sanctuary weren’t a prelude to a devastating betrayal.
Though maybe it didn’t even matter what would happen next to her. It wasn’t like she had anything more to lose.
She agreed to the first suggestion, hoping his apparent expertise and preparation would mean the process would be over faster than if she fumbled with the rags herself, hands still partially numb from the vigorous and painful filing down of her claws. Though he sat behind her on the bed, out of sight whilst attending to the wound at the base of her tail, he talked her through every action he was taking and why. Never coming into contact with her skin without a barrier of cloth in the way, never rushing ahead no matter how slowly she responded or understood, never commenting on the tension that so clearly racked her body.
With fresh dressings now applied, he stood again and gathered the bowl and old bandages under his arm. Astra’s muttered thanks were dismissed with an easy grace, and he left her in her room to recover, though not before making one final promise.
The words didn’t quite sink in when she first heard them, as numb and broken as she was, but as the years went by Astra held them close, a new beginning she would fight hard not to squander, a token of the faith put in her by the man who, with kindness and patience, had saved her and empowered her even more than any strength granted by the divine.
“I thank Lathander every day that we found you and that we could help, but whatever comes next will be for you to choose alone. If you wish to leave, we can provide you with provisions and a fond farewell for your travels. Should you like to stay instead, our home will become your home too, and you will have our protection and our care.
You need never feel trapped again.”
Astra ran a fingertip around the rim of her tankard, head resting on her other fist. It was her second drink, the first barely touching the sides as she craved something, anything that could dilute reality for just a moment. Not total oblivion, however, not while there was more to do, more to say.
Sat now in one of Last Light’s more private side rooms, she felt the eyes of the gathered party upon her, however subtle they thought they were being. Staring down into a bronze abyss inside her tankard was preferable to meeting that gaze, especially amidst the air of expectation in this cramped space. Whether her companions said so or not, it was clear she would have to share just what had led to their paladin strangling a soldier that was ostensibly an ally, screaming in the choking man's face like some kind of lunatic about forgotten names and deeds.
There was no doubt in her mind that it was her own fault. Years of trying to separate the two people, the two lives that in one moment of madness had now been cleaved together for all to see. Purpose, and pain. Nathaniel, and Merac.
Astra, and Craven.
“Florrick has gone already?” She asked no one in particular, focus still on her drink.
“Yes, they left about an hour or so ago. She and her men are on their way to Baldur’s Gate now, to warn the city of the Absolute.” Wyll answered, flatly.
“Good, that’s good.” Astra muttered, not really knowing what she even meant.
“They might be safer on the road than they are here.” Astarion quipped under his breath, a small grunt escaping as he was presumably elbowed in the stomach for his comment.
“It was not wise to attack those who might be useful to us, ra’stil , especially without reason.” Lae’zel warned.
That was probably as gentle of an admonishment as she could have expected, though it still drove home the reality that she still hadn’t given them any idea as to why such violence had erupted from her. In their time together, Astra had become privy to their darkest secrets, world threatening orbs and life changing conflicts of faith, amongst other things. What she had been keeping from them was far less consequential, but through her own volatility had drawn attention to it and jeopardised their mission and their survival. Whilst Last Light and the rest of the Fist contingent had not demanded reprisal for her assault, Astra couldn’t deny those closest to her some insight into just what had made her act so foolishly.
“It was stupid, and I’m sorry to you all for putting our stay here at risk.” She looked up, as difficult as it was meeting the eye of each of her companions.
“Who was that man, Astra?” Shadowheart asked, her voice not betraying any clear feeling.
“I don’t know, not really. But he knew me from before, when I was in the city.”
Karlach’s voice was more deliberately soft. “You said you ‘weren’t Craven anymore’ ? What did you mean?”
The name sounded so foul coming from such a kind person, Astra wincing as it was said. “It was the name they had for me, something twisted from my last name. Carenz became… that. Just another insult, another weapon in their arsenal.”
“Gods, Astra, who were these people?” Gale sounded somewhat aghast.
“They ran a small workhouse, in the Lower City. The Shop, they used to call it.”
Movement from the corner of her eye drew her attention, and Astra saw Karlach leant forward onto the back of a chair, alarmed. “Soldier, you don’t mean Xerem’s Workshop, do you? Near the docks?” When Astra nodded, her flame wreathed hands clenched tightly on the fragile wood. “f*cking hells.”
Wyll was beginning to make the connection, a place of woe that yet bore the name of the Fist’s illustrious founder, and clarified sheepishly. “I’d never heard of that place, even before my exile.”
“I doubt you would have. As far as I was aware, the Flaming Fist kept it a tight secret. Everything they needed - armour, weapons, uniforms, they got it from there.”
Some of the blood had drained from Wyll’s face, but she continued anyway. “The Fist would be given a budget by the city, for their arms and equipment. So, they spend a fraction of it on cheap supplies from the Shop and pocket the rest. In return, the guards turn a blind eye to whatever goes on inside.”
Astra just tried to persevere, the cold and methodical explanation the only way she was going to be able to continue to describe this. “I spent almost two decades there, working, living, never being able to leave. I got out around the time of my 18th birthday, though they were only guessing as to when that was.”
The silence that followed was welcome, in a way. Words were proving to be the worse option, even as she was only scratching the surface. Anything to keep the lid closed on that part of her life, one that could have, should have remained forgotten. But it wouldn’t last.
“That’s it? You just ‘got out’ and became a paladin?” Karlach asked incredulously.
“Yes. That’s it.” Astra was deliberately curt with her, trying in vain to put an end to the conversation.
“You found a new beginning with the Lord of Renewal himself, after all of that misfortune.” Gale summed up for her, a strange sort of prideful quality in his voice.
“ Misfortune? Gods, the f*cking stories I heard of that place. Gortash wouldn’t let us go near it, but…” Karlach paced angrily, too incensed to stay still. “We shouldn’t have pulled you off of that bastard.”
“Astra, I… I don’t know what to say, I’m so sorry. That such a place could exist in my city for so long…” Wyll was more still, shaken deeply by everything he had learned.
“It’s not your fault, Wyll. You’re a good man and a better friend, and I won’t let the past change any of that.” It was the truth, and as best she could Astra summoned a watery smile to assuage some of his worry. “I found the Temple of Lathander in Rivington and have lived there ever since. I never went back to that place, tried to bury that time of my life with a newly sworn oath and a sh*tty broken sword.”
She stood, taking a final deep sip of her drink and running a shaky hand through her hair. Somehow, she had made it through to the other side of this pitiful tale, but there was still more to say. “I suppose I’ve been pretending ever since. To be a leader, a paladin of virtue, a real person who is worthy of the faith you all have put in me. I was born as Astra, I am Astra, but for most of my life I haven’t lived as her.” She cleared her throat, trying to retain neutrality in her voice whilst emotion threatened to overwhelm her. “I understand if this changes things, if it feels like I have been lying to you. I have seen you all deal with challenges and problems far bigger than my own with grace and strength and courage, and yet I wasn’t able to control myself when it mattered the most. For that, I’m truly sorry.”
With that, she was finished. Empty, more like. There was a balance now, at least, her own skeletons out on display along with all of theirs. Though she wasn’t a hells-touched legend, or a centuries old vampire, or anything of note really. She fought no curse or devil for freedom, didn’t suffer the attention of a vengeful god. There was no heroism or bravery to her - just an imitation of a person, barely held together by faith and denial, with the latter rapidly falling out of her grasp.
That could be enough to damn her in their eyes, and she would accept that judgement. Such a powerful group of warriors barely needed a leader to be effective, let alone one they couldn’t look at the same. Astra feared what they would say next, an awful nausea accompanying her anxious wait, but there would be no argument from her.
“You’re apologising to us?”
The clear disbelief in Karlach’s voice brought her back into the room, a surprise that quelled some of the numbness in her body. Astra had been avoiding looking at them as much as she could, but when she took in the room around her there was none of the contempt or disappointment she expected. Not everyone wore their hearts on their sleeve, but what was there wasn’t close to condemnation.
Astra stumbled, caught off guard. “I… I am, yes. Shouldn’t I -”
In a cosmic turn of fate that felt like it was equal parts prolonging and interrupting her suffering, the door at the front of the room was flung open noisily, the impact of wood onto the wall summoning all pairs of eyes to the intruder. An already nervous Harper stood in the opening, the intense scrutiny not doing her disposition any favours.
The young soldier cleared her throat, and spoke hurriedly. “Forgive me, but Jaheira insisted I inform you as soon as possible - you see a group of scouts just returned with documents looted off some dead cultists, and it contained a new route into Moonrise, and, and details of the prisoners there, and she said that only you had ‘the means to get inside’, and-”
“ Yes, we get it, thank you.” Shadowheart replied sharply through gritted teeth, cutting off the ramblings as at the same time, in a rare moment of agreement, Lae’zel slammed the door shut unceremoniously on the uninvited guest.
Outside of this little moment of isolation, the world had continued, and now they would have to as well. Astra found herself slumping back into her chair heavily, just trying to make sense of everything that had happened on top of this new report, one that could represent a breakthrough in their quest.
Is it even our quest anymore? Should I just let them go?
The questions stuck in her throat as all around her the party double checked the equipment and armour they had on, anticipating a coming departure from Last Light to venture forth and act on this new information whilst she stayed sat down, useless and unsure.
“We’re heading out, aren’t we Astra?”
In her vacant state, she wasn’t entirely sure who had asked that question, though her slowness must have been noticed because the next moment Karlach was by her side, placing a friendly hand on her shoulder.
“I mean, we’d like you with us, obviously, but if you need to stay here for a while then that’s okay too. It’s your choice. Really.” The other tiefling explained, somewhat scattered but still with care in her small smile.
No one contradicted the offer, no one looked aggrieved to hear it extended so readily. They were still here, still looking at her the same way, still trusted her enough to be with them through the undoubtedly immense danger. Even after inflicting this story on them, her party hadn’t given up on her, and so she dared to hope.
“I… I thought things would be different, now that you know.” Astra asked the room, painfully meek to her own ears.
The broad reaction was one of surprise, but not because she had assumed they would still want her company. No, they were surprised she had assumed otherwise.
Karlach made sure her earnest amber eyes met her own. “Astra, it was incredibly brave of you to talk about all of this, no matter how it got brought up. You don’t have to be sorry for any of it, especially not for fighting back against that f*cking arsehole”.
“What was allowed to happen to you is inexcusable, yet even with the injustices of your past you’re still one of the most courageous and noble women I’ve ever met. To continue at your side would be an honour.” Wyll added, guilt held close though projecting nothing but admiration towards her.
Gale agreed enthusiastically. “Truer words! Lathander may bestow upon you a touch of His divine power, but no God or oath can claim credit over the strength you have shown yourself to have.”
“You’ve proven yourself irrefutably capable, both in and out of battle. I see no reason to let any of this change what I know is true of your character.” Lae’zel added, everything Astra knew of her gith ally telling her she was incapable of empty platitudes.
Even Astarion came close to true sincerity. “We’ve all got our demons, love, and frankly I’m jealous you got the chance to throttle one of yours. Cazador will be lucky to get off that lightly when I next see him.”
Astra wasn’t prepared to hear any of this, no matter the ease and honestly with which it was said. The last time she had confronted this part of her, the new home and purpose she had chosen facilitated the distance and the clean break needed to begin anew. Here, there was no such simplicity, no banishing of the past in favour of only looking forward. A tangled web of haunting memories still lingered, brought closer to the surface than ever before even if their influence had always been there.
Instead, with tears welling in the corners of her eyes, she saw something, felt something different.
Not as flawlessly beautiful as the lofty ideals of renewal, not perfect enough to be found immediately within the kind words of understanding friends. Nothing as quick and easy as could be found in one confession, one moment of unexpected compassion. Wounds too deep to be healed with surface level mending, pain not able to be alleviated as effortlessly as it had been inflicted.
It was long, difficult, not at all linear and not without a cost to be paid. There was no certainty, no infallible guidance to follow, no concrete destination to beckon her forward.
But for the first time, she truly believed it might be real. A better version of herself, a future that contained healing, acceptance, happiness. One she was worthy of, one that was actually attainable.
“Right, yes, we’ll head out soon. No reason to keep the prisoners there waiting any longer. Just - give me a minute, or two.” She chose to give an order of sorts, hanging on to the last shreds of her composure, not wanting to shy away any more from the greater task at hand.
In many ways still, there was work to be done, and it wasn’t worth any more delay. Preparations began immediately, one by one the party leaving the room to gather any last pieces of equipment or supplies needed for the journey, a return to relative normality that was very much welcome to Astra. Even more so was the one person who had deliberately stepped aside whilst the others had departed, who softly closed the door again to give them a rare moment of privacy.
Shadowheart stood with her back to the door, eyes glued to the hand she rubbed firmly. The combination of the angle and her dark makeup made her eyes hard to read, like they had been for so much of the past discussion. Astra didn’t truthfully even know what she expected, what she wanted from Shadowheart, how much Shar’s hold would influence whatever reaction came.
But that had been the story of their time in the Shadowlands, a confusion of wants and needs and duty and pragmatism that wound around the connection between the two of them, constricting and constraining in unpredictable ways. Astra was becoming more and more aware of what she herself wanted, the fear of overreaching out of desperation just as keenly felt, yet Shadowheart had chosen to wait all the same, completely separate from that inner turmoil.
Astra walked over to her, though with every step it became clearer no tirade of Sharran derision would greet her. Instead, there was just her cleric, her Shadowheart, with a kind of aching softness held within summer green that Astra had never seen before.
The half elf spoke, quietly but with a hardened conviction, like nothing would stop her from saying exactly what she wanted. “When that Loviatar priest got his hands on you, I thought I had seen…” Her eyes shut tight for a moment in an act of vicious self-loathing. “I made light of your suffering, and I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve any of it.”
Astra reached for her afflicted hand, holding it with a certainty she needed Shadowheart to feel. Other hands intertwined, an anchor amidst the difficulty of the words, needed especially when more and more tumbled out of Shadowheart.
“I’m glad you found a home with Lathander when you got away from that rancid place. I’m glad you found purpose, light, people who valued you as you always should have been.”
The cleric’s final declaration was the most difficult of them all, one that seemed to crawl out of her coated in shame and brutal honesty, along with a flash of deep purple from their joined hands.
“I’m… I’m glad it wasn’t Shar.”
Astra was stunned into inaction by the reluctant confession, barely believing what she had just heard, mind awash with the implications of that one short sentence.
But something, someone else, was altogether more decisive, and underneath her palm she felt more than saw the vengeance of the incurable wound as it flared into angry life, delicate muscles in Shadowheart’s hand twisting and contracting under the sheer violence of its punishment.
Another burden to bear, but another they could try and get through together. Astra tried to ease her through the worst of the spasming in her hand, soothing as best she could the small gasps of pain that escaped the suffering cleric. Against Shar’s wishes, a small glimpse of the wonderful Shadowheart underneath the smothering of darkness had broken through, and had said all that she had needed to.
Just knowing that person still existed, still persisted? It felt even more of a blessing than Astra could have ever imagined.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say any more. Don’t suffer any more pain just for my sake.” She half-whispered, holding the other woman tightly through the final lashings of the divine intervention.
Shadowheart shook her head in the silence that followed, an undercurrent of pain in her voice. “I shouldn’t have said all that, shouldn’t have made this about myself. I just want…”
She trailed off, and from somewhere within herself, an instinct came forward for Astra. One that told her to be braver, to believe that she could both give and receive something good, something genuine. It guided her hand to brush raven hair behind the tip of a pointed ear, and lean forward to press her lips in a moment of intimacy she could choose, could seek and find without fear. Like their first kiss, wordless promise and devotion as their bodies drew closer together, mutual sighs captured between mouths locked together, shifting only slightly to better fit as if a greater parting was too much to bear for now.
Shadowheart’s hand came to her cheek, mirroring her hold and staying wonderfully present as they eventually drew apart, fear and pain diluted by the presence of another. A small grin with disproportionate warmth that started with Shadowheart, and ended up on Astra’s face too.
A moment of bashfulness brought her hand down to her side again, but her eyes never left the cleric’s. “I truly hope that day will come, where we can both find what we want. Whatever that may be, whatever calling you may find.” The latter part was a bitter truth, but she meant it. Astra wanted to be by Shadowheart’s side, even if Shar would try to claim her heart.
What looked dangerously like a blush came to Shadowheart’s cheeks as she turned away, glancing to the door that led to the beginning of that journey. “Does that day come before or after killing an immortal general?”
“Only one way to find out, I suppose.”
