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Chimera Of The Night
~ For Barry ~
The group of adventurers had been walking for a while in almost chilling silence. They should have been rejoicing; after all, they had won. The shadow curse had been eradicated, and better yet, Ketheric Thorm had been defeated for good.
However, this long quest through the Shadowfell had brought each of the companions an even heavier weight on their hearts. But in this flood of sorrow, mourning, or even guilt, Barry managed to see the bright side of things.
They had tried to lift the spirits of the group, but they were told to "Shut up" by Lae’Zel. Barry wasn’t the type to take offense, especially when it came from their Gith friend. They knew her: her intervention was more of a way to remind them that it wasn't the right time. Not yet. Barry simply nodded.
At one point, Barry decided that it was time, despite everything, to bring a little cheer to their macabre hike.
They started to hum; after all, they were a bard, it was almost in their nature.
Astarion couldn't help but smile; he found Barry so cute, and even though he never said it easily, he loved it when Barry sang. He watched them sing when Karlach nudged the vampire, whispering.
“- So, is it official between you two?
- My dear fiery-hearted friend, I have no idea what you're talking about. The pale elf sighed slightly.
- I may have a burning heart, but you, my friend, your eyes burn with love for our pretty Bard.”
Astarion didn't respond, just slightly shrugging his shoulders. He was rather reserved on this subject, partly because it had only been a few weeks since they had confessed their feelings to each other, and also because he didn't yet know Barry's exact stance on the matter.
Wyll and Halsin, who were at the front of the group, stopped for a moment, cutting Barry off mid-refrain, slightly frustrating them.
Halsin, in his deep voice, said,
“- I think we should stop here for now.
- Tsk, and why is that? Lae'Zel replied.
- Night is approaching, and I sense a storm coming.
- Who would have thought druids were afraid of the rain? Shadowheart teased, drawing a smile from her green-skinned companion.
- I... I think it's a very good idea to take a break actually!” Barry finally intervened.
The two women agreed; the bard had always had this ability to bring their friends to consensus. They were sweet and kind, but they exuded a certain presence they themselves were unaware of. That was also part of their charm.
Fortunately for the group, there was a small inn they could see just a few meters away. They hesitated for a moment, thinking about the money they had. Astarion had a little smile on his face, proud of the sentence he was about to say.
“- My friends, you have with you the man with the magic fingers; chest locks hold no secrets for me. Money is not a problem.
Barry frowned.
- Hon... Hmmm I mean Astarion, you're not actually going to steal from the innkeeper, are you?!
- Oh, and why not, Darling?
- That's not kind, and…
- I am not.”
Barry was slightly hurt when they felt the almost cold tone of their companion. They hated when Astarion said such things about himself, yet they knew the vampire meant it deeply. The bard shook their head slightly. The silver-haired elf sighed as he observed their expressions.
“- Alright, alright, but Gale pays for me then.”
Gale, too exhausted from their long march and the fact that the sky was covered with thick, dark clouds, simply nodded without having the courage to oppose.
Barry couldn't help but laugh.
The inn was of medium size and seemed in poor condition; it wasn't the grand luxury they might have expected, but the interior was larger and better maintained than it appeared from the outside.
There was a large room with a dozen round oak tables, some occupied by drunk customers, others by people with rather sad expressions, but the place was quiet, too quiet for an inn of this size at the entrance to the village of Rivington.
At the back of the room, centered in front of the entrance door, there was the bar counter made of solid wood, with dark green tiles serving as the countertop.
A man with a very bushy beard was arranging bottles of Ilmater wine on the shelves against the wall.
To the right of the bar stood a staircase leading to the upper floor where the inn's rooms were located.
Barry, who was the most at ease with people, naturally went towards the innkeeper.
After a few exchanges, the bard returned to their friends with several keys. Surprisingly, there were enough rooms available for each person in the group to have their own room. A luxury they hadn't had in a long time.
After everyone had gone to put away their belongings, they met again in the main room for a drink and something to eat.
When the innkeeper arrived with a tray full of provisions, such as cold cuts, cheese, nuts, dried fruits, beer, wine, and fruit juice, he started the conversation.
“- You are a lively and very diverse group. It's not every day we see adventurers, let alone these days...
- Your inn is almost empty, it's true. I expected it to be of poor quality, but I am rather pleasantly surprised.
Astarion replied, putting his lips to his wine glass.
Everyone looked at him with wide eyes, as if he had said something mean. But against all expectations, the innkeeper laughed softly, which contrasted with his gruff appearance. In a rather sad tone, he replied,
- You don't mince your words, but you're right. Usually, I'm swamped with orders, the rooms are always full, but something terrible is happening...
Finally, the innkeeper allowed himself to sit on a stool at their table.
- Rivington is in crisis; there are refugees coming from everywhere. They all say the same thing: their villages are being destroyed by an army of terrifying monsters. The Absolute, I think they called it... I don't know much about it, but on top of that, there's a new guy in Baldur's Gate, Gortash, who has forbidden access to refugees. No one is in the mood to celebrate at the inn.”
He finally shrugged, as if it were an inevitable fate.
Barry felt a shiver run down their spine. An almost chilling silence settled in.
- Don't pull that face; judging by your appearance, I'm sure you're the next heroes who will help us.
- He's right! Barry's voice, joyful as usual, broke the heavy atmosphere. We'll save Baldur's Gate from the Absolute! Then, when everything is back in order, I'll sing your praises in a song!
- Well said, Soldiers!” Karlach exclaimed, raising her beer mug.
They all finally raised their glasses in honor of their friends who always had the right words to boost their morale.
The innkeeper stood up before greeting them and returning to his work behind the counter.
After a moment of joy and conversation in good spirits, a huge storm broke out, making Barry jump. They tried to keep up appearances, but they hated the loud sound of storms, which reminded them of painful memories.
Astarion didn't miss the pained expression that crossed Barry's face. He raised an eyebrow; the bard noticed but shook their head as if to say, "It's nothing, everything's fine." The vampire didn't insist. They were used to understanding each other with just a look; it was a deep connection they had, something unique. Like nothing either of them had ever felt before.
It was finally time for everyone to go to bed.
Some were drunker than others, like Karlach, Lae'Zel, and Gale.
Others, like Barry, had remained reasonable.
In front of the creaky wooden door of the inn room, as the rain beat loudly against the thin panes. Barry put the key in the lock, but at the moment of turning the key, a flash of lightning followed by a loud rumble made the damp wooden walls tremble slightly. Barry jumped, and Astarion noticed. He approached his partner with a slightly worried look.
“- Is everything alright, my dear?
- Yes, yes, yes, everything's fine, goodnight.”
They replied hastily before locking themselves in their room.
The room was quite small, but it had the essentials: a double bed, two pillows that seemed soft, and a thick wool blanket. On the left side of the door, there was a small washbasin; on the back wall, a small window without curtains.
They swallowed at the thought of another storm coming. Terrified by this idea, the bard placed their belongings in a corner of the bed, then took off their boots, finally settling into the bed, which seemed far too big for them alone.
Barry couldn't sleep; the sound of the storm outside did not reassure them at all.
Reminding them of the traumatic memory of that fateful day when they were turned into werewolves.
It was a day like this. Morose, gray, the smell of petrichor filled Barry's nostrils, then suddenly, storms had broken out, and the driving rain at full speed on their skin prevented them from having a clear vision of their path. That's when they had the misfortune to meet him: The mad sorcerer.
Locked in a cage, undergoing all kinds of experiments for days on end. The screams, the tears, echoed in the damp cellar. They were not alone. There were other people like them. Locked up like wild beasts. Ironically, that's what they would all become. Werewolves, eager for the hunt, kept without food for too long. They had surely made victims, but they didn't remember. Only the horrible taste of blood in their jaws.
Barry had sworn to control their transformations since they had managed to escape from their "master," but nights like this made that promise difficult.
They got up with difficulty, their head heavy, their breathing labored; the air was becoming more and more stifling, a sharp, metallic smell invaded their nostrils. A painful lump formed in their throat, making each swallow difficult.
To take their mind off things, Barry thought it was a good idea to stretch their legs in the inn's corridor. Discreetly, so as not to wake the guests, they walked like wolves in the corridor.
The candlelight was dim, the flicker of their flames wavered gently on the walls. The rain was still falling loudly, almost too loudly; it was becoming unbearable for Barry's ears.
In the corridor, they noticed a bloodstain on one of the window panes, then slight traces on the wall, finally turning into long, irregular lines.
Panicked, Barry approached one of their friends' doors but felt something at their feet. Something wet and viscous slipping through the gap between the door and the floor. Barry immediately recognized what it was: A pool of blood.
Anxiety rose; they ran directly into their partner's room. They didn't even take the time to knock on the door; they entered in a panic.
“- Astarion! Something horrible is happening!”
But Barry felt as if they were alone in the room, without light, in the deep darkness of the night; they tried to approach the bed gropingly.
A new smell of blood filled their nostrils, the urge to vomit took hold of their stomach.
Suddenly, as they approached the bed, a loud flash of lightning illuminated the room: A vision of horror was imposed on them.
Astarion lay in a pool of blood; they seemed to have been attacked by a wild, even sadistic beast. His body was bruised and torn apart.
The bard began to scream and cry, vomiting at the morbid sight.
They curled up into a ball on the floor, paralyzed with fear. When they noticed that their hairy, clawed hands were filled with blood and other types of human pieces whose origin they themselves ignored.
They then understood: They were the cause of this massacre; they had become that bloodthirsty monster who loved to hunt.
Another flash of lightning struck, and a blurry shadow appeared.
“- Barry, this is why you need a master.
- The threatening shadow said. They recognized him immediately.
- No... No... it's impossible! You can't be here!
They screamed.
- Of course, I can. Join your creator, your master, beloved. I am the only one who understands what you are. Come on, come.
- No!
- Join me!” The sinister voice growled.
Barry didn't know what to do anymore. Should they join their former master again? The one who had made them like this? They had just massacred everyone they loved.
They hesitated for a second, looking towards the bed where Astarion's body lay. But suddenly, the lifeless body began to move with difficulty.
“- Dar...ling... Barr... Barry...” the almost lifeless body began to move more and more, approaching the werewolf. His voice, initially deep and macabre, became clearer.
“- Darling? Darling?! Barry, wake up, damn it!”
Suddenly, a veil covered Barry's vision, and then, with a loud scream, they opened their eyes.
Astarion was there, very much alive, his eyebrows furrowed, and a worried frown on his forehead as he leaned over Barry.
“- Astarion! Barry exclaimed in sobs. They sat up abruptly from the bed, taking their partner in their arms.
- Shhttt, Darling, everything's alright, I'm here.
Astarion, in turn, wrapped Barry's body in a reassuring embrace.
- I'm a monster, a horrible monster; you should leave... far away from me.
- Why do you say such a thing, Darling? You're not a monster.
- Of course, I am; I turn into a wild beast, loving the hunt and blood.
Astarion couldn't help but let out a small, discreet laugh.
- So, we're two monsters?
- No... I…
- If werewolves are monsters, so are vampires; it's an unwritten rule, my dear.
Barry didn't respond. So Astarion sighed and looked Barry straight in the eyes.
- You're far from being a monster, and even if you were, dear, I would stay with you. You're the most adorable, kind, and funny person I know on this earth. And I'm over two hundred years old.”
The men wiped away their tears in silence, a small smile finally appearing on their faces. Their hearts beat strongly, not out of fear, but out of love.
They remained in a warm embrace for a long time in silence. Astarion broke the silence first.
“- Would it bother you if I stayed with you tonight?
- There's nothing more in the world I wish for... please... stay with me.
- If you insist.” He said teasingly with a slight smile.
Barry rolled their eyes with a wide smile, the atmosphere softening considerably. To add a little more tenderness to the moment, as if the universe saw them, the storms no longer rumbled, the lightning had disappeared, and the rain was now just a soft, gentle background noise.
Barry took care to cover Astarion and themselves. With a gentle gesture, they rested their head against the vampire's chest. Their breathing slowed. A feeling of peace enveloped the two people lying next to each other.
Barry murmured,
“- It wouldn't be so bad if we shared all our nights like this.
- You're right; from now on, we'll take a room for two, and sometimes I'll sleep in your tent. And you, in mine. But from today, we'll share all our nights together.
- You... you're sure, Honey?
- Darling, there's nothing I'd like more.”
Barry smiled, happy, and gently brought their faces close to their partner's. Their lips were just a few centimeters apart. Then, delicately, Astarion tilted his head slightly. Their lips met.
Like a silent promise between them.
THE END -