The Final Dawn

Astarion walked the cobbled path up to the door of their home, a small but comfortable cottage in the forest. They had lived in a palace for most of his and Calythea's lives, but the older Calythea got, and the more friends of theirs that passed on, the more she longed to be back in the forest. So Astarion built her a home. 

Well, more like Astarion found others to do it, but he had it built to be a dream home for his wife, a place they could live out her last years comfortably. Happily. Quietly.

He walked in the front door, an hour before the sun was to rise. Calythea was still asleep, looking as beautiful as ever, even with her wizened skin and pure white hair. It lost its golden hue a century ago, around the same time her tanned skin began to show creases. Setting his pack down, he sat on the edge of the bed, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. His heart was heavy, seeing her lay there, peaceful and slumbering. His thumb softly rubbed her shoulder, and he sat with her in silence for a while. He cursed the sight of his pale hand, still perfectly smooth and soft, when hers were creased and wrinkled. His face still held its boyish looks, while hers boasted the lines of someone who had laughed and smiled for centuries. His body could still run, climb, and carry, while hers had slowed over the last few decades.

Astarion choked back a sob, knowing that he could count the days he had left with his dear Calythea.

After several long moments, she stirred, eyes fluttering halfway open. She smiled - a wonderful sight - upon seeing her husband seated on the edge of the bed next to her.

"Hello," she said softly, reaching her hand up to touch his face. Astarion leaned into her touch, closing his eyes and placing his hand atop hers, holding it against his cheek.

"Help me sit up?"

Astarion placed his arms around her, helping her into a sitting position, placing some of their many pillows behind her. She settled into them, breathing a sigh.

"Thank you."

"Of course, my dear," he said, brushing a lock of her hair out of her face. Her eyes still held the same silver glow they did the day he first met her, outside the wreckage of the nautiloid. This time, however, he didn't regard them with fear - he gazed into them with love, a feeling he believed for two centuries he'd never experience in his life.

"Hey," Calythea said softly, brushing a tear from his cheek. He didn't realize one had slipped out, but now many more followed.

"Hey," she repeated, concern filling those gentle eyes of hers. "Come here."

He did, scooting closer to her so he could be held in her arms. The tears flowed freely now, and he didn't bother to hide them. He let his wife hold him in her frail arms, and he held her gently in his strong, unchanged embrace.

"You should close the curtains," she reminded him softly, whispering into his curls. They often slept with the window open, letting the cool, forest air fill their home. However, even after centuries of searching for a solution, Astarion remained a vampire spawn - weak to the sunlight.

"Just... just a moment longer," he said, holding her a little more snuggly.

"Astarion," she said, firmly. "Close the curtains. I'm not going anywhere."

"Yes, my dear," he said, reluctantly leaving her arms. After making sure the thick fabric completely covered the window, he pulled off his shoes and climbed back into bed, gently helping Calythea into his arms, resting her head against his chest.

"Mmm..." she said, sighing happily. "This is my favorite pillow."

Astarion let out a laugh, and gave her a kiss on her forehead. "I know, my dear. And I'll be here as long as you'd like. We don't have to do anything but lay here together all day." His fingers ran through her hair, breathing in her scent. She smelled of the flowers she tended each day, of the smoke from the fire she loved to sit next to every evening, of the rain he carried her into the night before. Calythea had always loved the rain.