an agonizing reminder. (astarion one-shot)

an agonizing reminder

"Godsdamnit!" She screams, dropping the item from her hand like it's a white hot branding iron. On reflex, her eyes widen and she swoops down to pick it up quicker than she dropped it. A grimace flashes on her face as she peers down at the now dirty and pathetic reminder of her failures.

A porcelain white comb, with an engraving on the side.

"My glimmer in darkness, I banish the sorrow. As I love you today, I'll, too, love you tomorrow."

She pictures crushing the comb in her hand. Throwing it. Burying it.
Instead, she gently uses the front of her shirt to rub the dirt and dust off of it, mimicking the gentle gestures she picked up from the elf she gifted the comb to in the first place.

This is the third time in months she's rediscovered one of his things among her stuff. He had taken nothing with him when he left, save for the clothes on his back. That left her to be the one to pack up every last ghost of his former self in a series of tortuous weeks. Gut wrenching reminders of him seem to continue to resurface, despite her efforts.

She places the porcelain comb on her bedside trunk, with a gentle click as the two hard surfaces collide. She takes a bracing breath as the longing stirs within her again.
She knows she must go again. She must spend another day there, she won't survive the week without another agonizing reminder that he is not whom she fell in love with. No, he is long gone.

So, she goes.

—

"Master Astarion is going to catch on eventually, he's even begun to keep a more watchful eye on me around the palace. You'll have to find another way to get in there." The servant tells Elora. She raises her fingers to her temples and looks carefully at the servant.

"I'll be more careful this time. I just need to see him again, please." Elora pleads with the servant. The servant lowers her head and sighs, then gives a sympathetic look to Elora.

"Fine. But, speak out of turn once more and you will never enter the palace again with my assistance. I am not taking another night of lashing because of your sharp mouth." She scolds Elora. Elora nods quickly, and the servant looks around to see if anyone is watching. She pulls the black dress and apron from her body, and hands them to Elora. In turn, Elora hands her a faded dress and cloak to cover herself with.

Once Elora is dressed in the servant's garb, she casts a disguise spell to take on the appearance of the servant in front of her. While similar in stature, their faces are distinctly different. They wear their hair the same, one long braid over their front. Only, Elora puts it to the left while the servant puts it to the right.

"Gods, I'll never get used to looking at myself standing right in front of me." The servant remarks wearily.

"Go, enjoy your night. Meet me here at dawn tomorrow." Elora says. The servant nods in response, gives her one last careful glance, and rushes off into the night.

—

Elora quickly recalls the servants schedules and duties, though it was a pain to follow the first time and a chore to remember the second. Every time afterwards it's become easier and easier to blend in, though she has slipped on several occasions.

She heads first to the main hall, cleaning and dusting every intricate sculpture and trinket Astarion has decorated the palace with. It's not as drab as Cazador had it decorated, but, it is... darker. More macabre.

Everything seems to be in its place as usual, save for one singular painting. It's new, it takes the place of a previous one. In it, a woman lays in a bed of black roses, her dress white and her skin pale. Though, that isn't what draws Elora's attention. It's the red eyes and auburn braid falling over the left shoulder that captures her. She stares at the painting for far too long, frozen in place as her heart turns cold.