Chapter Text
- Astarion
“Do we have everything?” Gale asked for what had to be the seventh or eighth time since this evening.
“We’re bringing wine and cheese and are a portal hop away from home at all times. I think we have everything, and if we don’t, it’s within reach,” Astarion said, and put a hand to the small of Gale’s back, before the wizard could check their baskets yet again.
“I’ve been ready to go for the last ten minutes, professor. I’m just letting you know in case you want to do something about it,” Astarion continued, adjusting the fit of his light azure vest and bell-sleeved blouse. A fine ensemble to withstand the summer heat.
Instead of finally opening up a portal, Gale pulled Astarion’s arm closer around him.
Naturally, Astarion wouldn’t admit to being shy, or nervous, or possibly both. It was just that the majority of his friends only saw him two or three times a year. He’d cut a much finer roguish figure in the past. That wasn’t to say that he had been overly thin for the last year and a half, but he didn’t need a mirror to know his current weight was bordering on excessive. Though his weight seemed to be slowly settling, as he had gained the last few pounds at a much slower pace than before, like he was finally reaching a previously unknown destination.
“One last thing, before we leave,” the wizard said with a smile that showed his own nervousness over the outstanding social gathering. Gale laid his hands over Astarion’s chest, “I love you.”
Gale leaned in and kissed him sweetly.
Astarion blinked, taken aback. They weren’t the kind of couple that declared their devotion to one another often unprompted.
“I love you too.” No reason not to say it back when the truth had stopped hurting years ago. Counting their adventuring days, had they really been together for almost three years now? Odd how dab centuries could stretch into eternity, but happy years flew by.
He kissed Gale’s cheek. The wizard’s face lit up. The smell of ozone and magic rippled through the air. Before Astarion knew it, Gale was pushing, and he was tipping.
“Payback for the bathtub, darling?” Astarion asked when he stumbled onto the clearing, dignity in shambles.
“Maybe,” Gale tutted, having had the wherewithal to reach back through the portal and take the baskets.
“Oh, I have to hear that story,” Wyll chimed in and walked over.
“Absolutely not,” Astarion snarled.
They had strung up colorful lights over the clearing. Two tables sat high with fresh fruit and snacks. Astarion counted heads quickly; an old habit. Of course, Gale’s fussing had made them the last to arrive. Everyone had come, even Withers was standing to the side, spelunking in the shadows.
“Good to see you, Wyll,” Gale said, and Astarion watched them exchange ridiculous manly pats on the back.
“You look well, my friend,” Wyll greeted Astarion next.
Astarion rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue, “Oh, we all know I’ve not missed any meals.”
“I meant what I said,” Wyll replied undeterred and clasped his shoulder.
“I think I want the horns back. They gave your head some charm your face otherwise lacks,” Astarion replied.
“Ah, how I missed that vitriol.” Jaheira walked over to them.
Astarion greeted her in Elvish. Jaheira raised her eyebrows and repeated in kind. Looking for new hobbies, he had been practicing. The language came back easily to him, something he had not expected. But he supposed things learned in childhood wound deeper paths into one’s brain than anything learned much later.
After they had settled, he, Jaheira, Halsin, and Shadowheart sat down together to form their own little elf club, while Gale and Karlach stuck their heads together. Over by the light of the fire, Wyll and Lae’zel showed each other new knife tricks they had picked up on their travels. Astarion’s own Elvish was a halted careful thing, but Shadowheart’s awful accent inspired him to at least try to keep pace.
Shadowheart made the error of asking him about criminal defense, and no language barrier could stop him from diving into his favorite subject. Oh, how he missed college, he thought, and switched back to common. The vampire spawn couldn’t wait for the summer to end. Froststrike was a great mentor, if one ignored her entire personality, but being without other students wasn’t good enough. He even missed the bloody campus library.
His audience at least made interested faces. Astarion believed Jaheira when she kept asking him pointed questions about his studies.
“Attorney Acunin, I must say it has a nice ring to it,” Shadowheart said, topping him off.
“That’s the idea, darling, at least sometime down the line. First, our esteemed Professor Dekarios has to see me off to night school for the next, let’s say, ten to twenty years.”
Halsin clapped his back, making him shrink in his seat under the force, “Don’t fret, my friend. It is well known that laws change slowly. Many of the ones you once practiced under as a magistrate two hundred years ago must still be in place.”
“Oh, I’m sure that is true,” Shadowheart said, and they all laughed at the government’s inefficiency.
They had not cheaped out on their friends, so the wine kept flowing. No one made a comment about his weight, even as tongues loosened, accompanied by music and some tipsy dancing. Part of Astarion was glad for the silence, part of him wondered if Shadowheart and Karlach, who had seen him last spring, had said something to the others in advance.
Or maybe it was an expected and therefore unremarkable development. From the perspective of his friends, who saw him only a few times a year each, his weight must appear like a natural progression. Each time they had seen each other, Astarion knew he had been just a bit bigger.
“You worry too much, Istik,” Lae’zel said and tipped her nail against the back of his hand where Astarion had stressed the hem of his vest. A nervous habit he was trying to get rid of.
“In Gith we have a saying. Those who look like they are about to lay an egg are happiest, for they have made a fine nest,” Lae’zel continued.
Astarion snorted into his wine glass, “If that’s what your people say, you are closer related to hens than I thought.”
“Argh, it’s a poor translation, but one that holds merit,” she continued.
“Thank you, my dear.” Astarion clicked their wine glasses together. It was always wonderful to see how sweet Lae’zel’s face could look, when she stopped frowning.
***
Hours later, Astarion found himself looking for Gale. The blasted sun was about to rise on the horizon, and they needed to bid their goodbyes soon, if Gale didn’t plan on conjuring him a thick-skinned parasol to keep him from expiring on the spot. Now that he no longer perused the nightlife of a city, his nights were more acutely dictated by the seasons. Bless his friends for pulling an all-nighter every year just to be with him.
“Have you seen my wizard?” he asked Shadowheart.
“I think I’ve seen Gale over by the river. Looked like he needed to get some air,” Karlach said, and pointed.
Astarion murmured his thanks and got up to follow in that direction. The night painted the trees in shades of gray. Gale stood with his back against a tree trunk, looking at the stars and their reflection in the river. Of course, he was, that old romantic.
“What are you doing out here all by yourself, handsome?” Astarion asked warmly, making the tacky line work for him.
“Waiting for you to find me,” Gale said, and took his hand. There was an expression on the wizard’s face Astarion had rarely seen. He’d made that face when he had offered to blow himself up, and when he had asked Astarion to follow him home. Big decisions accompanied it, and Astarion didn’t know if he cared to see it, not knowing its cause.
“Are you alright, darling? I know they can be a lot, but their antics are hardly reason enough to hide yourself away. I wouldn’t want you to grow reclusive. You have several hundred years before you’re allowed to become a hermit in a tower. At least until you’ve gone completely gray.”
“I can’t believe you gave me an opener like that,” Gale mumbled under his breath, and Astarion raised an eyebrow.
“Actually,” Gale continued, and cleared his throat. The wizard flexed his hands like he did whenever he recited something he wanted to run by Astarion first, before his students or colleagues got to hear it. It was very endearing.
Astarion settled with his back against a nearby tree and laid a comfortable hand to his middle, ready for a lecture.
“I don’t want to become a recluse. Quite the opposite in fact. I’d be a fool if I didn’t try to procure my happiness; to ascertain to what capacity you’ll have me. You see, when I look to the future and think of my family, I don’t just think of my mother, Tara, or my terribly annoying cousins. I think of you, my star. How you brighten every hour, how you will look at me when I impress you with something, even though you don’t want to show it. How you’ll look at me on the days I do nothing to deserve such kindness.”
Gale paused for a moment to search Astarion’s face, before he looked at the starry sky and silver horizon, precursor of the morning sun.
“We met at a strange time in my life, when I thought I had gone as far as I were able and conspired perfectly to my own demise. You pulled me back from fulfilling an empty purpose and from becoming someone I would not like to meet. Whatever game fate played by putting us together and pitting us against the brain; had we met differently, I like to think we would still have beaten the odds. Your soul knows mine.”
Astarion thought about it for a second. Them meeting while he was still under Cazador’s compulsion. Part of him thought he would have turned Gale quickly into a mark. Lulled him in with platitudes before either of them would get the chance to get a glimpse at what lay hidden underneath the pretense, the posturing, the lies.
Another part, the bigger one, that had grown over the past years under stability and love like a plant growing towards the light, liked to believe that they would have figured it out. Astarion would have learned from past mistakes and not run away.
In a different life, Gale and he would have met in Baldur’s Gate over many nights, many secret meetings. They would have slain Cazador together and ended up just where they were now. Astarion quietened his cynicism, smothered it like a hapless baby in a cot. Love could make you believe in impossible things. How dangerous, how deliciously tempting.
Gale pulled at his hand and kissed his knuckles. Something twisted in Astarion’s chest under his dark gaze that had lain dormant and forgotten for a long time.
“Because I see you and I’d like to see all of you, every hidden aspect, every triumph, every little bit of pain. I love you on the nights you’re catty and looking for an argument just as much as I love you on the nights you’re charming and easy-going.”
“Is that so, my sweet? I’ll make a note to remind you of that when I find myself especially catty and argumentative,” Astarion said, and Gale let out a nervous chuckle.
“What I mean to say is this: you are my family, and it would be my honor to spend my future with you. Surrounded by our friends, on a night of celebration, I thought it fortuitous to ask,” Gale took a deep breath, seemingly having run out of steam. Astarion held his hand like a lifeline.
“Ask me then, wizard,” his voice came out in a dry unsteady hush.
Gale didn’t let go of his hand as he went down to one knee.
“Astarion, will you take me as your husband?” he opened the ring box in one fluid motion, he must have practiced in secret. Inside was a thin silver band that held a single black pearl. A bit surprising. Astarion had always believed he’d be a diamonds sort of man, but then he hadn’t accounted for any mad wizards in his future.
Gale continued, when Astarion was too transfixed to answer: “Nothing would make me happier. Rest assured, you can still keep the ring if you decline. Though I really hope-”
“Just say yes already, Istik, or we’ll be here until noon,” Lae’zel shouted. Astarion realized that their terrible terrible no-good friends were lurking in the woods. They had probably planned this. Karlach had looked incredibly smug all night, come to think of it. Unbelievably rude.
“Astarion?” Gale asked, he’d gone quite pale under his tan, and his hand was starting to feel sweaty in his.
“Oh, by the hells,” he tugged at Gale’s hand hard enough to get him back up to his feet, “Yes, yes I do.”
Too many things happened at once: Gale slid the ring onto his finger, where it fit perfectly; the woods around them exploded with claps and cheers; an odd tingling sensation, cool like peppermint oil brushed over his skin, that could only be of magical nature.
Gale put his arms around his neck. When Astarion pulled him close, their noses bumped together, and a few wild strands of hair were caught between their lips. It was the best kiss he ever had.
“I’m keeping my name though,” Astarion said when they eventually came apart. He would rather drink poison than admit that he had thought about this.
“What’s wrong with Dekarios?” Gale asked. He kept looking down at their hands like he couldn’t believe Astarion was really wearing his ring, or that he had said yes. Stupid wizard, Astarion thought, hadn’t he known that he’d been waiting to be asked again?
“Nothing, my sweet, it suits you very well, but I like mine better. Any chance I get to turn you into a Professor Acunin?”
Gale made a thoughtful face, apparently seriously considering his proposition. Astarion simply had to kiss him again.
“Congratulations!” Karlach roared. Vertigo tugged at Astarion’s center, as Karlach put her arms around them and managed to lift them up for a frightening few seconds.
The next minutes were filled with well wishes, hugs, and kisses that must have happened to a different vampire spawn, as this one was drifting along far above their heads, tethered to reality only by Gale’s hand. The wizard would not let go, and Astarion was glad Gale knew him well enough to know he needed an anchor.
“We really must go now, I need to see my fiancée off to bed,” Astarion said. He liked the sound of that, it tasted absolutely divine against his tongue.
The sky was bleeding like a cut throat, the sun just about to rise. They had sat back down. Tempers had run high, and most of them were wine drunk. Even without the latest event, this night would have been one to remember.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Gale said and grabbed his knee under the table, “show me your hand,” he demanded, and Astarion held out his ringed finger with pride. Preening.
“I’d quite like for us to watch the sunrise together,” Gale continued.
“Darling, first you have to actually marry me, then you have to wait until I sign onto a life insurance, then you get to murder me,” Astarion said in his ‘don’t you know anything?’ voice.
“Trust me.” Gale looked a little deviant, a little too up to no good. Astarion loved that look, it always heralded the beginning of high jinks.
Gale angled his hand so the pearl in his ring caught the red light of dawn. It seemed to absorb its color into its dark opalescent center. A peculiar effect. Astarion leaned closer. What had his industrious wizard done?
“I’m calling this the Cloak of Midnight. Though it was rather a group effort of Shadowheart’s and Karlach’s keen minds along with my own. But who forges it gets to name it, me thinks. You see,” Gale explained, and brushed his thumb over Astarion’s knuckles, “this is one of Shar’s Pearls of Night. They are known for-”
“Consuming all light in their vicinity. Grown to keep the bottom of the seas dark and foreboding, if I remember the legend correctly,” Astarion cut in.
“Exactly. Now, I thought I have little use for keeping any light from reaching the furthest corners of the sea. I just have to keep the light from reaching you. A neat trick of magic, in my humble opinion, if not an easy one.”
“You mean I can walk in the sun wearing this?” Astarion held up his hand, perplexed. He could read the surety in Gale’s face, and every last doubt evaporated in his mind. Astarion placed his palm against the spot where his heart had once beaten in his chest.
“That is why you said I could keep the ring,” Astarion said, and Gale made a face.
He rubbed his neck, “I had hoped you didn’t catch that. I was rambling.”
“And why you kept setting fire to your study.”
“I had to test its limits first,” Gale said, looking like a man who held no regrets over his pyromania.
“I was rather fond of the curtains you destroyed,” Astarion heard himself say, while his mind kept spinning.
“I bought replacements,” Gale said. The corners of his eyes wrinkled with crowfeet as he smiled.
Astarion kissed him, short but firm.
“Thank you,” Astarion’s voice came out in a croak. He looked at the ring, the rising sun, Gale. Suddenly his dead heart was too full.
The tears came unbidden. He had Gale and his friends to wipe them away. Together they watched the sun rise, arm in arm. Astarion had never been so in love with his life.
Hours later, they lay in bed together. The curtains were drawn wide open to let all the light the sun could spare into their home. Astarion watched dust motes dance like tumbling diamond splinters. The world was made anew in a palette his memory had not been able to capture quite correctly. Nothing could do the day justice and all the promises, all the uncrossed paths it held.
Astarion felt like someone had struck him with lightning. He understood why people called them daydreams; no night would have ever held room for voicing these thoughts: he could sign up for normal classes now. He would be out of the tower at the same time as Gale, schedules aligned. They could meet up for lunch every day. He’d eventually get a degree, a job, new friends, vacations in faraway spots, opportunities. Gods, he’d get Froststrike to write him a letter of recommendation. Someday he would practice the shit out of the law under any agency that would have him. He’d get clients to defend and cases to win. All of Gale’s ambition surely had rubbed off on him.
They would get married under the sun.
“You have to sleep sometime, my star,” Gale mumbled. He’d been out for a few hours, exhausted, but elated, well-spent after a frisky tumble in the sheets, that had left them breathless but flushed; Astarion having stolen a few mouthfuls of blood. Now Gale was looking at him with beady eyes and mussed hair.
“I can’t. This feels too much like I’m dreaming, and if I fall asleep now, I wake up in the kennels,” Astarion admitted, whispering like others whispered at night. His turn into a vampire spawn had cost him his elven trance, and his past had made sleep a hard thing to come by, beset by nightmares.
Gale shuffled close. He pulled up on one elbow and put his chin in his hand. Then he reached out and brushed a hand through Astarion’s curls.
“It’s all real, Astarion, I promise,” Gale said. He laid his hand to the dip at Astarion’s waist where his belly tumbled forward on the mattress. Astarion felt present in his own life like never before, solid, substantial, loved, like a lodestone that was pulling marvelous things towards it.
“All will be here when you wake up, I promise,” Gale continued, soft, sleepy, and with infinite patience.
“You better kiss me goodnight then, or good-day, whichever it is,” Astarion demanded.
“Good-day to you, my love, may many more follow,” Gale replied and leaned over.
Astarion smiled into their kiss before he closed his eyes, finally comfortable enough to let go.