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Astarion pulled his button down tighter to his form as he trudged along the path, though perhaps path was too generous. Path made it seem as if someone had purposefully created it, cutting away the shrubs to create a clear way ahead. This one was overgrown, created by feet stomping roughly through the plant life, leaving behind an uneven, uninviting trail.
Astarion was uneasy, truthfully, walking alone in the forest well past midnight, but he pushed ahead desperately. If Halsin was right, the place he was looking for was close, just a little further based on the landmarks crudely drawn on this shitty map.
And Astarion needed him to be right.
He needed to lift the curse.
He was not dressed for such an adventure, traipsing through an allegedly haunted forest on the coldest night they’ve seen so far. He hadn’t expected to need to find a witch in the proverbial haystack.
His feet kept going, though they ached and were definitely beginning to blister in his heeled ankle boots. His skin was wind-whipped, even underneath his thin, maroon button-down. His jeans felt like they were getting tighter with every step, and the chain he wore at his waist, one that Gale loved to pull him closer with, was beginning to bite into the meat of his thigh, swinging harder the faster his pace got.
His heart ached at the thought of his Gale. Astarion had just been gone for a few hours, running errands to get them ready for Halloween night. He’d forgotten his phone, but figured he’d be back soon enough.
When he finally did return home, he found his poor lover lying on the floor in his study, the air still heavy and crackling with a magic Astarion had never felt before, powerful but also smothering, suffocating the air out of the room.
He’d run to Gale, shaking him, begging him to wake up. That’s when he saw his chest, a swirling, fragment of that stifling, purple magic lodged in his chest, pulsing like it had always been there, like it was a scar and not a wound.
Gale was pale, all of the warmth gone from his skin. His veins were tinged with purple and black, his lips almost blue.
He’d called for Halsin, another magic user, but he was just as stumped as Astarion. The older man knew it was a curse of some sort, based on the parasitic nature of it, but could not tell the origin of it. Halsin said he knew of someone who might know something of use, but they were reclusive, wary of visitors, and didn’t do anything for free.
But he’d do anything for Gale.
Including selling his soul to a witch in the woods under a full moon.
Eventually, astarion stumbled upon a house. It was squat, made of mismatched, moss-covered materials. A rocking chair was on the porch, teetering on its own. In the stained window, Astarion could see a green flame candle flickering.
It was eerie, and it looked exactly like a reclusive forest witch lived in it.
Astarion would have laughed if the circumstances were different.
He walked up the steps carefully, avoiding the spots that looked particularly weak, until he came to the door. He raised his hand to knock, but the door swung open before he had the chance.
Standing in front of him was a tall older woman, though she was hunched over in a way that made her seem smaller, frail even.
“Oh, hello, petal,” the woman said, her voice cheery but raspy. “The forest told me you were coming, and that you were rushing, too. What can Auntie do for you?”
“Auntie? Is that your name?” Astarion said, Halsin’s warning in his mind.
“It’s what you can call me, little one, but it is not my name,” Auntie said, stepping aside to allow him to enter. “Come in, petal, I’d like to hear what you have to say.”
The inside of the house was made of similar moss-covered wood and filled with trinkets and baubles. In the center of the room was a large cauldron, bubbling with a pearlescent liquid. The longer Astarion looked at the brew, the more he swore he could hear screams coming from inside it.
“Sit, petal, make yourself comfortable!” Auntie said, busting herself with making a pot of tea. “Tell me of your troubles.”
“The man I love has fallen victim to a curse. I do not know how or what it is, but a friend said you could help me.” Astarion said, sitting on the ripped overstuffed floral couch across from the spindly old woman.
“Yes, I’ve heard as much from the wind…” she trailed off like she was listening to the air around her. “I can also smell the magic on you. It’s unpleasant, isn’t it?”
“Can you help me? Help him?”
“I could, petal,” She said before pausing again, spindly fingers moving in the air as if doing calculations. “But it will cost you.”
“What do you require, Auntie?” Astarion asked, doing his best to sound confident and aloof, but inside his heart was pounding.
“No need for the bravado, little one, I can taste your fear,” Auntie nearly purred. “As for what I want…”
She thought for a moment, hands still a flurry of movement.
“Ah, yes, that is very clever!” She cheered clearly, very proud of herself. “There’s a very important piece of my brew that I’m missing.”
“Like an ingredient?”
“Quite! I need you to get me some!” Auntie said, plucking a vial from the wall behind her. “I’m not quite like the hags of old, petal, I don’t like to make those I bargain with suffer, bad for business.”
Astarion looked at her with wary eyes. “What is this ingredient that you need?”
“Enough tears of joy to fill this vial.” She held a vial the size of a lipstick tube in her hand. “That’s all.”
“Tears of joy, I can do that. I’ll just… think happy thoughts…” Astarion said, conjuring images of puppies and kittens in his head.
“Silly boy, think of your beau! He brings you joy, does he not?” Auntie rolled her eyes before going back to packing a small bundle of herbs into a piece of cloth.
“More joy than I thought possible,” Astarion said earnestly.
Astarion summoned images of Gale to his mind: how beautiful he looked when he was deep in thought, the little crease in his eyebrows when he was just a little cranky about being outsmarted by Astarion, the way his whole face lit up when he spoke of something he cared about.
He ended up giving Auntie more than one vial full.
“Well, petal, a trade is a trade. Off you pop!” She pressed the cloth bundle into his hands and all but pushed him from the house. “Come again, dearie!”
Astarion nearly ran home, ignoring every pain and ache as he pushed his legs faster and faster.
He threw open the door to the tower and took the stairs two at a time. Gale was lying on the bed now, the full moon peaking through the window behind him. He looked peaceful, save for the purple rot in his chest.
“Halsin,” Astarion threw the other man the bundle of herbs. “Put this on the wound, then take it and lock it in the lead chest in the study.”
Halsin did as he was told. The magic surged to transfer itself to the cloth, seeping out of Gale’s body and allowing life to take its place. The cloth was tainted, dyed nearly black, and pulsing with the same purple glow. Keeping it away from his body, Halsin left the room.
Gale sat up with a gasp, color returned to his cheeks, and his chest unmarred. “W-what happened?”
Astarion pulled Gale to him, crashing their lips together, trying to convey just how much he loved Gale, how scared he was, how he would do anything if it meant Gale was safe.
“I’m guessing a lot,” Gale said once they pulled away.
“You don’t know the half of it, wizard. Bloody full moons.” Astarion grumbled before pressing their lips together again, the moon glowing from the window behind them.