The Quest for Dawn

Chapter 33: An Elven Wedding Feast

Under the vast tapestry of stars and the bright glow of the moon, a joyous wedding feast commenced in the heart of the lush gardens. There was a palpable sense of jubilation, amplified by the gentle illumination of enchanted lanterns and mystical orbs adorning the courtyard. Attendants, hired for this momentous occasion, had meticulously arranged long tables, draped in vibrant blue cloths and adorned with gleaming silverware, beneath the celestial canopy. The feast presented an array of Faerûnian delicacies, from spiced meats to exotic fruits, alongside flowing pitchers of honey wine. It was a scene of pure magic, where the stars themselves seemed to dance in celebration of the union being forged.

Amidst the enchanting setting, Astarion and Tavriel, newly bound by love and ceremony, radiated an aura of pure elation. Their hands, freed from the symbolic cord that had recently bound them, instinctively found solace in each other's touch, even in its absence. The cord itself, now a cherished symbol of their union, was carefully set aside, destined for a special place in their shared home.

For many guests, witnessing Astarion in such a state of mirth was quite novel. His once predatory, vampiric presence had been replaced by a serenity that emanated from within. Bathed in the soft moonlight, his handsome features were etched with contentment and wonder. A newfound warmth radiated from his smile, a gentler light danced in his silver-green eyes—and though blind, they seemed to sparkle with inner joy. It was as if love had cast a spell upon him, transforming him from the shadows to the light.

As the feast unfolded, an attendant approached and gently placed Astarion's ebony staff in his hand. He grasped it with the practiced ease born of long familiarity, a symbol of a reality not easily forgotten, yet he accepted it with a quiet dignity. In Tavriel's presence, his confidence seemed to amplify. They communicated in a dance of subtle touches and whispers— a hand at his elbow, a gentle steer of his shoulder.

Together, they moved through the feast with a captivating grace. Tavriel, in her twilight blue silks, was the very embodiment of elven elegance. Her bright silver-blue eyes, sparkling with the same joy, met Astarion's. He, in his midnight blue tailed coat, moved with a confidence that bespoke his adaptability.

Though his eyes held no sight, they were just as expressive. They squinted as he listened to someone's recent adventures on the road to Baldur's Gate, widening in surprise at the new flavors of various fruits. A few even commented directly to him that they could have sworn his eyes had been a different color before, though the sparkling silver-green seemed to suit him just as well.

Their every interaction was tender and filled with affection, painting a picture of unity and love. A vision that, they were sure, caused the ever-sardonic Jaheira's stomach to churn. This shared certainty ignited a silent laughter between them.

Alfira and her band from the Elfsong Tavern filled the air with lively tunes, their music weaving through the jubilant chatter of the guests. They mingled, indulging in an array of sweet berries, exotic fruits, creamy cheeses, and a seemingly bottomless flow of wine. Jaheira, nursing a glass of Baldur's Grape, sniffed the rich aroma with a hint of disdain. Her eyes, however, remained fixed on her younger charges who were busy making merry fools of themselves in the designated dancing area.

"Is that the Baldur's Grape that the Grand Duke brought?" Tavriel's voice cut through the music, drawing Jaheira's attention. A playful smile touched her lips as the moon elf bride approached, Astarion by her side. "You must try this, my love. And tell me what you think."

Jaheira's sharp eyebrow arched upwards as she eyed the silver elf with his staff. "So the rumors are true, then? You now experience the pleasures of Faerûn through a mortal's palate. Hmph. Perhaps I will reconsider your affectionate moniker. It seems the 'vampling' has shed its cloak."