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"Just," Lyra said as she dodged another attack, "Keep trying!" |
But then, the cleric had to quickly step away from Astarion as a Bhaalspawn swung at her. She quickly disposed of it with necrotic damage, but an incoming range attack was headed right for Astarion. |
"Shit—shitshitshit—SHIT!" Shadowheart cursed as she waved her hands in hurried motion and summoned a magical shield around Astarion. |
Luckily, the shield held firm, and Lyra released a quick sigh of relief. That was when more incoming magic missiles from Gale hit Orin directly in the chest, sending her down to the ground. |
"Hurry!" Gale yelled down at Lyra from the stairs. |
He didn't need to tell her twice. She summoned a wall of fire on top of Orin followed by a strike of lightning. Blue light flashed through the room and an echoing boom came soon after. It made much more damage this time, but she was still not even halfway to finishing her off. |
Another shout of frustration from Shadowheart got her attention. "Seriously, Lyra, I can't do anything like this. I need Halsin's help." |
Lyra let out a grunt as Orin came at her again and knocked her down to the ground. The druid's reflexes kicked in and brought her sword in front of her face just before Orin's dagger clashed into the metal. "Oka—mmph!" Orin's knee to her stomach sent a force through her armor that knocked the air out her mid-sentence. Through gritted teeth and ragged breath, Lyra got the strength to shove the murderous changeling off of her. "Karlach!" She forced out, hoping the tiefling would understand. |
"On it, soldier!" Lyra heard her yell as she managed to shove a Bhaalspawn off the platform and into the abyss below them. Quickly, her fiery form ran to Shadowheart and Astarion's side. "I got him, and you cover me. Okay?" she said to Shadowheart before the two started to escort Astarion away. However, the enemies they were fighting weren't going to make it easy. |
Lae'zel tried her best to act as a distraction—a very violent and brutal distraction—while Gale did his best to aid Shadowheart in covering Karlach, spirit guardians and guiding bolts could only do so much. However, this meant that no one was covering Lyra. Which was fine; she could do this. |
Orin managed to give her a nasty slice down her leg, making her stumble to her knees. Another swing at Lyra and suddenly the druid's stomach began spilling out dark, red blood. Then, she headed towards Lyra's companions, saying, "Oh, are we playing tag? I love to chase my prey before ripping their souls out to give to my lord." |
Lyra tried to heal herself as quickly as possible, so she could run after her. But it would be too late. Orin was approaching Karlach from behind, so Lyra screamed, "Karlach! Behind you!" |
Karlach, on instinct, tossed the body in her arms towards Shadowheart before whipping around to counterattack Orin. Shadowheart tried her best to catch Astarion, but the weight and force took them both to the ground. Not strong enough to carry him, the cleric leaned the limp body on her side and began to drag him away as quickly as she could. Lae'zel stabbed her blade into Orin's side, aiding Karlach. In retaliation, Orin used some kind of magic to send her flying back. |
The rest of the Bhaalspawn came to aid their leader, and it wasn't long before the group was overrun. Orin took advantage of Karlach's massive swings to get a quick stab into the tiefling's shoulder. The pain made her vulnerable, and along with Lae'zel, was sent flying back. |
Gale and Shadowheart were the only ones still standing, which wasn't ideal. Desperate, Shadowheart began jostling Astarion around. "Will you just wake up you annoying prick! We could really use you right now." But it was futile; a chance to throw an insult back at Shadowheart couldn't even wake him up. |
One of the changelings knocked Gale off balance, almost throwing him off the side of the stairs into the void if he hadn't cast fly on himself. However, it forced him to land on his feet far away from the cleric. |
Orin walked over to the two. Shadowheart casted the strongest magic shield she could as the red dagger came down. It only held for so long before she was sent flying backwards, away from the pale elf she was trying to protect. Her desperate cry, reaching out to Astarion, was the last thing heard before the cracking sound of bone shot through the air. Orin's blade lodged itself into the left side of his face, and she slowly dragged it down, his blood dowsing his face. |
A guttural scream, so full of pain, so full of anger, was accompanied by a sharp gasp that pushed its way out of Orin's lungs as she stood over the lifeless vampire. A striking, sky-blue scimitar, almost glowing, created in the depths of the Adamantine Forge, protruded from Orin's chest. Her corpse grey flesh squelched as the blade twisted, and the crimson blood that leaked out blended in with her jeweled armor. With torturous precision, the metal cut its way down her body. Bone was sawed through, guts were split apart, and with another anguished cry from behind, the scimitar was pulled out. Before the changeling could fall to her knees, her long hair matted with blood was grabbed, and the culprit used it to throw her to the ground, flinging her insides everywhere. |
Above her stood Lyra, wounds messily healed, with a murderous look in her eyes that could rival the most loyal servant to Bhaal. Orin's dying screams of pain were accompanied by more sick laughter, and the noise clawed at Lyra's skin. She raised one of her heavy boots of metal and stomped it down on Orin's head with crisp snaps of bone and the wet squish of her brain—a satisfying mixture to the druid's ears. She twisted her foot in the mess before raising it to slam it back down once more. |
The frantic pleas and whispers of Shadowheart brought her out of the hypnosis of revenge. Lyra ran to her side, taking in the heart clenching sight below her. Tears streamed down her cheek as Astarion's bloodied face came into view. |
"I don't—my magic isn't working!" the cleric let out with frustration. "I can't revive him." |
Lyra stayed still, unable to get herself to move. She should be like the others, in a frenzy, doing their best to help. But her muscles were frozen together. |
"Let me try a scroll," Gale suggested, trying to remain calm, as he pulled gold, glowing paper out of his bag. He quietly muttered the words with practice; they had done this for each other many times after a hard battle. |
But unlike the other times, nothing happened. The magic washed away, and Astarion stayed still without life. |
That was what brought Lyra out of her shock, and she forcefully ripped the scrolls out of Gale's hands. Kneeling down, she muttered the same words he had and watched the magic do nothing. So, she tried again. And again. Her words started to shake as panic took hold. Why wasn't it working? |
"N-no, it can't be..." Karlach covered her mouth with her hand as she started to cry. Then, she threw her battle axe at a nearby pillar, the weapon sticking in the stone. She stepped away from the group to let the fire pool off her body as she raged. |
"...This was what she meant by "Bhaal's bleesing'," Lae'zel said quietly from above. |
Gale lowered his head in defeat, and Lyra was overtaken with grief. |
Despite all the violent thoughts and emotions flowing through her like the deadly current of the ocean, her touch was feather light as she reached down to brush his silver curls out of his face. It was a motion she had down before many times, making him lean into her touch, or bat her hand away, depending on who was watching. But there was nothing. A sob wracked her chest with a pain like no other. She had already felt like this before, at the hands of Orin those years ago. She vowed to never let herself feel it again. Yet, here she was, letting the invisible knives of loss make cut after cut into her heart, opening scarred over wounds. |
Even when he wasn't there to feel it, she was so gentle with him. Her careful hands picked up his limp body as she pulled him into her lap. Then, she held the back of his head and nestled it into the crook of her neck. With her other hand, she tried her best to wipe the blood away, getting it smeared on her gloves. Her head leaned down towards his forehead as she kissed it. Tears mixed in with his blood as they dripped down from her good eye. After she poured the last bits of love she had into the kiss, she pulled away, letting her forehead press against his. His body shook against her as her sobs came one after another. |
"My little star...please come back to me," she cried. |
The others had to look away lest their own grief show itself. None of them really liked each other at first, especially when it came to Astarion. Karlach was the only exception. But through Lyra and the care she showed to each of them, they learned to care back. And with these last few weeks and months, caring about Lyra meant caring about Astarion, too. |
They could all admit that he had gone through it these past 200 years, and he had just gotten his life back; he had killed Cazador. The thought made Lyra tremble with anger. |
But her cleric's voice was a light in the darkness, a beacon of dangerous hope, as she spoke, "...Wait. While maybe Bhaal is strong enough to make our magic and scrolls useless, what about our favorite magical corpse?" |
Withers. Oh, in the nine bloody hells, how could have Lyra forgotten? |
Gale looked pensively. "You know, that might actually work," he said. |
Still shaking, Lyra nodded her head. Steadily, she stood up, continuing to hold Astarion in her arms. |
Though meaning well, Gale made the mistake of saying, "You know, I don't think Withers needs the body to bring him back." |
Shadowheart and Karlach looked at him like he was crazy as Lyra snarled, "I am not leaving him here." |
Gale raised his hands up placatingly. With that, Lyra lead the group out of the sewers with a new determination. Gale and Lae'zel at her sides while Shadowheart leaned on Karlach behind them; she had exhausted herself trying to protect Astarion, which isn't something she ever thought she'd do. The whole way to the tavern it was silent besides the occasional civilian that walked the streets at night. |
Tears were still slowly streaming down Lyra's face when the burst through the doors to the lounge on the second floor. The others quickly stood and began to make their way towards Lyra and the vampire in her arms, but the halted when her face came into view. She could hear their voices as they asked her questions, but she didn't pay attention to the words. She let her intimidating strides clear a path for her as she walked past them all, headed for Withers in the corner. The others could answer them. |
A poisonous thought entered her mind: what if this doesn't work? |
Even though she tried to stay calm, to have hope, sobs like before bubbled up her chest and she basically collapsed to her knees in front of their corpse-like companion. She was worked up again, and it made her moves jerky as she pulled out her coin purse, well, more like coin bag by its size. She didn't care to count; it didn't matter. She held the bag in the air upside down and let the glittering gold fall to the ground in a pile. The clinking sound reverberated through the room as the coins settled. |
Before he could ask her what on in the world she was doing, she blurted, "I don't care if it takes all the gold in the world—give him back to me. Please," her cries continued, "Please..." |
As she sat there, pleading for her dearest love to come back to her, she could understand how Ketheric Thorm came to be. His armor weighed heavy on her shoulder now. |
How far would she go if this didn’t work? Would she leave her druid life to pursue necromancy? Would she go crawling back to Raphael, begging to make a deal with a price too high? |
"Hush now, child," he bent down to her level on the ground as she continued to weep , "Thy companion hath a curse from Bhaal, but thou must not worry, for he affects my powers none." Withers stood back up and began to chant, "By doom and dusk, I strike thy name from the archives! Rise!" |
Suddenly, a chunk of the coins disappeared, and Lyra let out a gasp as Astarion's body felt lighter in her arms. She looked down, and he was beginning to fade. Not thinking rationally, she desperately grabbed at him, but her arms just waved through the air where is body once was. She looked up and covered her mouth to try and hold in her cries—it was pointless, really—as glowing blue light emitted from a spot in the room. She could hear the excited murmurs behind her which contrasted her pathetic tears. |
"Ugh, gods! Out of all the things, she had to go for my face. It's my best feature!" Astarion complained as he looked himself over, smoothing his clothes with his hands. That voice, that precious, whiny, adorable voice, sent yet another wave of cries out of Lyra. "You better have fixed it, bone man!—" his words stopped abruptly as he spun around towards Lyra, her gasps for air catching his attention. |
His face dropped with concern as he started to make his way towards Lyra. She tried to meet him halfway. Her body lacked the strength to stand, so she stumbled on her knees forwards, reaching out her hand towards him. He swiftly knelt down, holding her up. "Lyra..." his voice broke off at the severity of Lyra's cries. His ice-cold hand brushed her cheek and then held it. "Lyra, my darling, everything's alright. You had me brought back, like always." |
"You do...You don't under—" she tried to say in between sharp inhales. Her lungs might as well be in Avernus with how much they were on fire. Along with that, her bones ached, her muscles refused to cooperate, and her mind felt disconnected from reality. To try and tether herself, she threw herself into his arms, breathing in his scent as she nestled her head in his neck. The smell of death masked by bergamot, rosemary and aged brandy had never been so comforting. Well, that's misleading; it was always comforting to her, but now it was the only thing keeping her from going over the edge and into the abyss. |
His arms wrapped around her, gentle but secure, while her grip held onto his shirt so tight her hands began to pale. She could feel him look up over her shoulder at their companions, probably trying to figure out why she had lost it. Then, she felt a kiss to her temple. |
"I'm here now, darling. It will take a lot more than a repulsive changeling to get rid of me. I swear it." |
Coming back to life was certainly not Astarion's favorite experience in the world. Jumping from being in agonizing pain as he died to darkness and then back to being in pain again as his body was sewn back together left his mind scrambling to catch up. Although, it being at the hand of Withers, or a reviving spell, was nowhere near the torture of having to claw his way out of his own grave. |
Of course, the first thing his hands went to check was his face. What the others didn't know was that he was conscious that whole time—he just couldn't see or have control over his body—and he remembered the feeling of Orin's knife piercing his skull. Seconds later, the intense pain came to a stop as he died. |
"Ugh, gods! Out of all the things, she had to go for my face. It's my best feature!" He complained as he continued to look himself over, feeling for any bumps or scars that weren't there before. He just got abducted and killed by Bhaal's favorite lunatic; he was allowed some petty vanity, as a treat. |
He yelled at Withers, saying that his face better have been fixed, even though he knew his face was fine from feeling it. He just felt like being annoyed about something. But his words of irritation died on his tongue at the sound of a familiar voice crying and gasping for air. It was Lyra. Quickly, he spun his body around, and looking at the sight in front of him made his chest tighten with worry. |
Lyra was on her knees, covered in so much blood. Her eyes and face were swollen and a pinkish red. Tears coated her skin in a glistening shimmer as they continued to fall down her cheek in concerning amounts. She started to reach out to him, stumbling over herself as she tried to walk towards him on her knees. Careful to avoid the coins that had been dropped all over the floor in front of her, Astarion's long strides brought him to her in seconds. |
He knelt down, carefully propping her back up. "Lyra..." he whispered. He had never seen her this upset before, and he might as well have been stranded in the middle of nowhere with how lost he felt. Astarion brought his hand up to wipe some of the blood off her face. Now that he was closer to her, he could smell that the blood that covered her was a mixture of hers, his, and someone's that he didn't recognize, probably Orin's. Lyra chased after the touch with her cheek, and he gladly held it for her, hoping that his hand didn't feel too cold. |
"Lyra, my darling, everything's alright. You had me brought back, like always," he tried to reassure her. This wasn't the first time he had died in battle. Whenever she brought him back, the look of concern on her face would soon be followed by relief. Then, depending on how he died, he would get a lecture on being more careful. What had happened that made this different? |
"You do...You don't under—" Lyra struggled to speak as it sounded like she was choking on the very air she was breathing. |
Before he could do anything else, suddenly she lunged herself into his arms, and it took a lot of his weakened strength to keep them both from falling over. To try his best to provide any sense of comfort, he wrapped his arms around her and let his head fall slightly to the side next to hers. Over her shoulder, he looked to his companions for any sort of information that could help make sense of all this. |
They all looked at him with what seemed to be a mixture of guilt and sympathy, and it was Karlach who opened her mind to him. Suddenly, Astarion was back in Bhaal's temple, but he could see them all fighting. This he remembered, although, he wasn't a fan of how pathetic he looked relying on Shadowheart, of all people, to hold him up. He watched how Orin had killed him and how it gave the perfect opportunity for his love to get her well-deserved revenge. |
Then they were trying to revive him, but...they couldn't. That explained it. |
Karlach let the memory go for a few more moments, letting him see how distraught Lyra was. He knew it was a memory, but he wished he could run up to her now and comfort her through her sorrowful cries. He wanted to tell her that everything turned out fine; he was alright. |
He was back in their lounge at the tavern, and immediately, he turned his head to give a loving kiss to Lyra's temple. The taste of the blood that caked her skin reminded him of how hungry he was, but he shoved it down as hard as he could. |
"I'm here now, darling. It will take a lot more than a repulsive changeling to get rid of me. I swear it," he whispered against her skin. He had hoped that it would have at least helped her calm down the tiniest bit, but her tears got stronger. Panic started to crawl its way into his own nerves. She had already passed the point of hyperventilating, and he didn't know much longer she could take it before her body just gave out. |
His hand found itself on her head, brushing her dark pink hair with his fingers. He looked up at his companions helplessly—surely one of them had an idea of what to do. They all looked at each other equally as helpless, maybe even more than he did, until Halsin spoke up to save the day. |
"She needs to lie down, and she needs you with her. Here," the large druid began walking to the pair. He bent down to scoop Lyra into his arms and continued, "Let me take her to your room, then you two can be alone in peace." |
Astarion nodded in agreement, but as soon as Halsin started to pull her away from Astarion's embrace, she started to thrash around. |
"NO! NO—" she coughed on her screams, and it took Halsin a good amount of sturdiness to keep Lyra from making him drop her, "I can't lose him—I can't—I can't—" |
Astarion rushed over. He was eye level with her as Halsin tried to hold her. Tears were streaming down his own face since the anguish she was in pulled out levels of concern he didn't know he had. He placed his hand on her arm to try and ground her as he spoke, "Shhh, shhh, my love, I'm right here. Halsin is just going to take you to our bed, alright? We'll be able to sleep in each other's arms—doesn't that sound nice, hm?" |
While Astarion's words didn't do anything to help with her tears, they did make her stop trying to throw herself out of Halsin's arms. So, Halsin began to escort them to their bedroom with Astarion glued to Lyra's side, never letting go. |
Halsin gently laid Lyra on the bed and started messing with her armor. Confused at first, Astarion realized that the man was trying to take off her armor since it wasn't exactly comfortable for her to lay in. The pale elf helped him by pulling off her boots. With expertise, Halsin was able to get the full suit of armor off, leaving her in the black, long sleeve shirt and matching skintight pants that she wore under the heavy metal. The druid took his leave, and the door to their bedroom shut with a soft click. |
After quickly stripping himself of his own armor, Astarion got into the bed next to his panicking lover. Delicately, he maneuvered her, so her head was up against his chest while he sat up slightly, laying against the stack of pillows and the headboard behind him. His favored white shirt turned a slightly darker shade as her tears pooled onto his chest. His hands found themselves rubbing her arms and back. |
Finally. Her tears were still falling, but her breathing seemed to be back under control. Astarion tried to rack his brain for what else he should be doing. This was new territory for him, and he didn't want to mess it up. He thought back to all the many, many times she had comforted him. |
One thing did stand out; she always hummed for him. She had done it so many times that he had the songs memorized himself. He didn't know what they were, or the lyrics—he assumed they were from her past—but that didn't matter. The soft vibrations from his throat filled the otherwise quiet room. |
It seemed to do the trick, and Astarion to think to himself about the situation at hand. How his humming seemed to lure her into peace. Maybe that's why she always did it for him? because it was something she found comforting? A small, invisible knife stabbed into his chest at the thought of his Lyra, alone, in pain, and wishing for some kind of comfort from another. All while she didn't hesitate to do it for everyone else in her life... |
...Gods, he felt awful. |
So many times, he had woken from a bad nightmare just for Lyra to immediately start soothing him with her embrace. Too quick and too conscious for someone being just woken up. Had she already been awake all those times? Astarion knew how dangerous it could be to be alone with one's thoughts, especially that often. On top of that, he realized she had never told him what was wrong the day that the experimented with trying bondage. Just like every time there was something wrong, she brushed it off and found a successful way to distract whoever asked. |
Then, he noticed the sound of soft breathing below him. Looking down, he saw that Lyra was asleep. Asleep. She was so exhausted that a trance wasn't enough for her body to recover. He laid a kiss on her forehead before leaning back on the headboard. He hoped that her body was also exhausted enough to let her sleep be dreamless; he didn't want her to suffer through a nightmare, especially not after everything that happened today. |
Letting his humming come to a stop, Astarion also felt the weight of his own exhaustion and let himself slip into a trance. |
The vampire was enjoying a memory of earlier that day, before the chaos that had followed. Letting Lyra paint his face seemed to bring her lighthearted spirit back, if only for a moment. Her beautiful grin when she asked him to make her eyes look like they were bleeding was something he wanted to commit to memory. She had an odd since of humor, one that he could appreciate, and even weirder interests. And he loved her so much. It was scary, downright terrifying, to think about, but it was the truth. |
Then, a sharp scream brought him out of his trance with a jolt. The gods would never let them have peace, would they? |
It came from his darling next to him, and when he turned to look at her, she was clawing at her face. Immediately, he grabbed her hands with his own. |
"Hey, hey, Lyra stop, please. You're safe, I'm safe, everyone is safe." His voice seemed to snap her out of it, and relief took over her features. |
She took a deep breath, "I'm...I'm sorry. I dreamt that you were...that you had—" her voice broke at the end of her apology. Defeated, she laid back down onto his chest and sighed. |
"My love, what is it you say to me all the time? "You shouldn't apologize for your mind needing to heal', "It's okay to need help, Astarion', and blah blah blah?" She huffed out a laugh at his attempt of an impression of her. |
The two were quiet for a little bit, enjoying the feeling of being in each other's arms. But Astarion had to break the silence; he needed to talk to her about what had been bothering him. |
"Lyra, I think we need to talk about something." |
He felt her tense in his arms. "Should I be worried, scared, or both?" she said. |
"Hopefully, neither. It's nothing bad—I'm just...I'm just worried about you." |
She shifted slightly in his arms, and he could practically feel how much she wanted to jump up and escape the conversation. "I'm fine," Lyra whispered. |
A surge of irritation and annoyance swirled in his head, and it took all the self-control he had to bury it so deep down that it wouldn't get dug up again. It wouldn't do either of them any good right now; the last thing he wanted was to make her shut herself away from him. |
"Lyra, I have never seen you that upset before. There is no way you're fine." |
"I mean, if I'm being honest, it's quite rare for me to get like that." |
"Probably because you bottle up everything so much," Astarion muttered. |
He sighed, "My dear, you barely ever ask for help. I was always so scared of pushing you when I noticed something, and now, there is nothing I regret more." |
It was her turn to be annoyed, it seemed. "It's because I don't want to! I hate it." She furiously rubbed at her eyes that had started to shed tears again. "I hate it," she repeated, snarling into the darkness of their bedroom. |
Astarion looked at her with understanding as he spoke, "Darling, I hate asking for help, too. But you always end up making it better, so I ask you to please let me do the same for you." Astarion started to smile mischievously, "It would make me so very happy, and don't you enjoy making your favorite vampire happy?" |
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