Gale-hog Day

by LittleDiscoveredStars

Summary:

Gale...breathes? Gasps, even. He can see, which really shouldn't be accurate, but it's happening all the same.

Fire surrounds him, as well as the unfortunately familiar architecture of a nautiloid ship. He knows the veiny pods he spent far too long in, as well as the pool of tadpoles he's likely been infected with. This tells him that he's been captured again.

But the fire, that is also the same. It burns the same way it did just before the whole ship crashed. He can feel the craft shake violently, nearly enough to throw him to the ground. The roar of a dragon sounds just above everything else.

Now, being in a nautiloid would not be so strange. A nautiloid attacked by dragons and mere minutes from crashing? A startling coincidence. But Gale is also alive, which he should not be. He remembers the orb taking him and the Absolute with it. He knows he's dead. And yet...

Yet, he isn't.

Chapter 1: Part 1: The Beginning (Again)

Notes:

Spoilers for Act 2 and Gale's origin! Also, warning for some mentions of suicidal idealogy. That will be all throughout this fic.

With a single nod of the head, Gale realizes this is it. They've found the Absolute, and as he intended since Mystra granted him control of his orb, he will end it with a single surge of magic. An explosion the size of Waterdeep.

It's a time-sensitive thing, Gale knows, but he still takes a half-second to look at his companions. Karlach, who had a destiny similar to his own. Shadowheart, the betrayer of her Lady Shar. Lae'zel, a warrior who has found the truth and herself. Wyll, who will never end up breaking his pact. Astarion, who will die a spawn to Cazador.

And Tav, whose word has brought an end to them all.

They lost many along the way and being one for sentimental moments, Gale reflects on how far they've all come from strangers sharing nothing but an ocular invader. Now, he could almost call them all friends.

But the time for this is not now. It will never be, after this, but both Mystra and Tav call for his sacrifice and he won't let both down. Not when it would mean so much worse for everyone else. Yes, they will all die here, but it won't be so bad of an end, right? They could've very likely been a group of mind flayers. The druids could've killed them, or the goblins. Any manner of creature or enemy had their chance to change fate, yet here they stand. Together, to the end.

Gale doesn't think about the expressions his companions are making. He doesn't want to know if Tav's decision is agreed upon. This last act will take focus and a nerve of steel. He must remember his Goddess, all that he owes her.

His magic, his love, and now his life.

For so long, Gale has resisted the hunger of the orb -its pain has become near as constant as the danger they find- but now, he gives into it. He lets the weave expand through him, even as it burns the very essence of his existence. It floods his veins like boiling acid but he grits his teeth to it. This must be done. There is no other way, he knows.

For Mystra.

Like a bubble popping, the orb expands. He feels all control slip away and suddenly, Gale is scared. No logic can soothe the panic that screams, "No! No, let me live! I want to live!". But it's too late. The orb has already been set to detonate and now, Gale is nothing but a vessel for its destruction as his last seconds are cut smaller and smaller. As if in slow motion, Gale turns his gaze to Tav, sees the strength in those teifling eyes. They are prepared. They are ready to meet their creator in whatever form it takes.

If only he had such coura-

---

No, this is not right. This is not how things were meant to end.

Again. Thou shalt try again.

---

Gale...breathes? Gasps, even. He can see, which really shouldn't be accurate, but it's happening all the same.

Fire surrounds him, as well as the unfortunately familiar architecture of a nautiloid ship. He knows the veiny pods he spent far too long in, as well as the pool of tadpoles he's likely been infected with. This tells him that he's been captured again.

But the fire, that is also the same. It burns the same way it did just before the whole ship crashed. He can feel the craft shake violently, nearly enough to throw him to the ground. The roar of a dragon sounds just above everything else.

Now, being in a Nautoloid would not be so strange. A nautiloid attacked by dragons and mere minutes from crashing? A startling coincidence. But Gale is also alive, which he should not be. He remembers the orb taking him and the Absolute with it. He knows he's dead. And yet...

Yet, he isn't.

The wrongness builds as he watches the events of this particular crash play out. It fills his mind with fog as he sees the red dragons circling the craft, then once they somehow -he now knows Tav, Lae'zel, and Shadowheart are the cause- skip to their final destination: the humble beach a little south of Emerald Grove.

Like the first time, Gale is caught off guard. He's thrown into the air violently and freefalls for a good second before his instincts kick in. He pulls Feather Falling, the incantation already escaping his lips as grass-covered rocks grow nearer.

But the spell doesn't cast.

Gale does not know this spell yet. He learned it on their way to the goblin camp, in fact, from a scroll Tav picked up.

So, Gale falls back on the next best thing and he is thrust into a dark portal imbedded into the very rock he would've been crushed against. The impact still rocks his entire body and when Gale next opens his eyes, he's lying on another, temporary plane of existence.

His vision swims for a few long seconds. Or, perhaps that's simply because of the constant swirling of magic surrounding him. Either way, it forces a groan from Gale's throat. His head throbs and the orb in his chest sucks the rest of his energy like he's the magical item. That feeling was not one Gale missed and now that it's back, he can feel his control of the orb slip. He can hold it just enough to keep it from detonating...again, but it's far too loose for his liking. Like trying to catch running water, or grainy sand.

Now, he's been nested in a portal of his own making on top of it all. Sitting up, Gale tries to pass back through it, hoping he can somehow figure out what in Mystra's name has happened, but he stops when the portal doesn't give. A push, a shove, and a poorly aimed punch only get one arm through. When Gale tries to shove the rest of himself out, he's stopped by the drain on his energy.

"...Gods," Gale sighs. He tries to wave his hand around, hoping to grab anything for support, but all that touches him is cool air.

Logically, his companions should also be on that beach. It was night when the nautiloid ship crashed, which means it could be hours before he's found. And what if Tav doesn't see his portal? Who's to say he landed in the same place this time around? Knowing his Tav, they would sooner search the entirety of the Underdark before they spot him.

A dreadful thought, but at least there is a fairly simple solution.

"Hello?! Anyone?!" Gale can only hope his voice carried through the portal. If not, then he'll be yelling himself hoarse.

Oh, how a wizard can fall from grace. Not only had he lost his role as Mystra's Chosen and been forced to endure the torture that was being infected with a mind-flayer tadpole, but he's now been stripped of his role as Tav's hero. Their weapon against the Absolute.

"For all the good it did," Gale mutters between cries for help. He's now been thrust back to the beginning, before his noble sacrifice was even a concept. There is, once again, a camp full of goblins to conquer and a grove yet gone unsaved. So much effort, just for it to be ripped from him at the very end.

Is this another one of Mystra's kindnesses? A show of her boundless forgiveness?

Gale dreads the answer.

Something brushes past Gale's hand and he's quick to snap back into focus. "A hand?! Anyone?!" He shouts, his fingers meeting only air and he waves again and again. Oh, come now. Someone was just there-

Small but firm hands grip around his wrist and begin to pull. Easily, Gale slips through the portal and tumbles to his hands and kneels, wincing against the bright sun. When has it turned to day?

"Thank you for the help, my friend! I am Gale of Waterdeep, expert wiz-" Gale pauses.

He recognizes Shadowheart and Astarion. Those cold gazes have become quite familiar over the month or so. But what really strikes Gale is the Githyanki in front of him. It's not Lae'zel, that much he knows. The armor is wrong, as well as the hair and face. Really, this githyanki looks nothing like Lae'zel apart from their race. It's...odd. Gale can't think of who this might be, but he recovers his act quickly.

"-wizard. Please, your name?"

The githyanki bows slightly, with a smile. "Tav." She says, her voice much softer than it should be, but not without a certain rasp to it.

If Gale weren't such a brilliant wizard and man, he would've scoffed at the mere suggestion. This is Tav? No, no his Tav is a dark Tiefling with ravenous eyes and pale hair. They were tall, taller than anyone else at their camp besides Halsin. They also didn't wear the robes of Helm's clerics. No, Gale's Tav was an honorable paladin.

But neither Shadowheart nor Astarion bats an eye, so Gale returns the bow despite his growing unease. "A pleasure." He should say more, Gale knows. He did the first time around, but something about this whole situation makes his stomach turn. Another word may make him lose what little dignity he has left.

This new Tav blinks at him, then turns her head to the side. "Were you also on the ship?" The question is asked in both curiosity and suspicion. Like Lae'zel, but much more open. Strange for a githyanki.

Now, Gale remembers his script. He swallows the bile that rises in his throat and tries to relax. If anyone suspects him of knowing as much as he does, he could soon find himself an enemy of both his old companions and the Absolute.

It's not a position Gale can afford to be put into.

"Indeed I was! And while it seems you've laid waste to their ship, the...guests in our heads haven't quite made their exit yet. I may be a powerful wizard in my own right, but medicine is not one of my many skills. Would you, perhaps, know someone with such a skill? Getting rid of these parasites is a rather urgent ask."

Tav grimaces as she looks at Shadowheart, then back at him. "Neither of us have enough skill for something like this. I was hoping to find my kin and the nearest creche."

Ah, yes. The githyanki creche. Gale knew that would be a dead end the moment Lae'zel mentioned it.

But, he'll play along. "An excellent idea! I'm sure having a wizard of my skill would certainly aid in such a plan. I am rather knowledgable about the githyanki race, after all." Hardly, but he remembers what Lae'zel told him and that will have to be enough.

Tav nods sternly. "Join me. Perhaps you'll be able to quell this one's suspicion." She throws a glance toward Shadowheart, who stiffens. Gale can already see the tensions growing between all three of them. A follower of Shar, a githyanki, and a vampire. Quite the group when it comes to trust and secrets.

Not that Gale will be any better. His need for magical items is suddenly overshadowed by the haunting knowledge of...well, everything. Their entire future together.

"Gladly." He nods, then files in behind the others. He knows not to let Astarion out of his sight, not before they've established how poor Gale tastes; and Shadowheart looks equally as ready to murder him as everyone else. So, he'll ride this out and hope the addition of Wyll and Karlach helps soothe things.

And maybe, if this is truly the same Tav he knew in all but appearance, then he'll have a chance at what they once had. Maybe, he hasn't lost everything just yet.

---

Just like before, the druids in the Grove are complete arses. They scoff and sneer at each Tiefling that crosses their path. Having met Halsin and knowing how passionate the gentle giant is about the refugees getting the aid they need, Gale finds Kagha -Halsin's complete opposite- even more insufferable. He can't help but grimace at the way she speaks of the tiefling child, as if she deserves such treatment just for existing. It's cruel and entirely needless.

Unlike the first time, however, Tav doesn't bother will the druid healer, Nettie. Instead, she focuses on Halsin. Helping the tieflings comes second to their tadpoles and Tav seems convinced that only Halsin and a githyanki creche can do that. She marches them straight out of the Grove and toward the Goblin Camp.

Gale would protest if it wouldn't give everything away. He's supposed to be just as unfamiliar with this land as the rest of them. A wizard plucked straight from Waterdeep. Far less well traveled as Wyll, who could tell endless stories of his adventures as the Blade of the Frontiers.

So, Gale allows them to rush ahead. He follows Tav's orders and does what he can with his weakened connections to the Weave. The orb doesn't help in the slightest. It aches and yearns for magic. Once again, Gale feels like an empty void that can never be full. He will always need more, will always hunger and hunger until it finally consumes him.

It did consume him. He let it, by Mystra and Tav -his Tav's- word. He doesn't regret it, but the phantom feeling haunts him. Pure Netherese Weave coursing through him in pulses. The sting of a dagger, then so much more. More, more, and too much. It was too much but he couldn't stop it before-

"Are you alright?"

Shadowheart has stopped, her eyes narrowed in a cross between suspicion and concern. It's so different from the faces she just started to make once they had left for Moonrise Towers. She started to open up, to allow others to really see her. She spoke of her fears and how the loss of her memories has started to drag on her conscience.

Here, Shadowheart is closed off. They are strangers once again.

"I assure you, I have never been better." Gale smiles too wide, perhaps, because Shadowheart simply stares at him. He's quick to fill the moment of silence. "Considering all that's happened recently, I believe it reasonable to get distracted every now and then, yes? We just escaped a nautiloid ship! That's no simple feat, my friend. And to live with Mind Flayer tadpoles within our skulls? Well, mark me eager. The sooner this mess is over, the better."

The woman lets out a huff of mocking laughter. Then, she turns to walk just behind Tav and Astarion again. "You talk too much."

"Ah." Gale nods, ignoring the slight sting of her words. "I have been told that before; but I will point out, at least I don't use my many words for insults, hm?" He looks at Shadowheart pointedly. She huffs, another cruel smile crossing her lips. She's defensive again, all of those many walls coming up in an instant.

"I don't need to like my company." Shadowheart snaps. "The only reason we're even traveling together is for safety and the fact our goals happen to be the same. If you lot manage to get yourselves killed in this attempt, it will bring no sorrow to my heart."

The version of Shadowheart Gale knows would never mean such a thing. But this one? The Shadowheart he first met what feels like ages ago? He knows she means it with every fiber of her being. Should things go wrong, she will leave and never look back.

Gale backs down. The last thing he wants to do is lose a friend so soon. Especially one as intelligent and reliable as Shadowheart. "I apologize. It seems I've made a proper fool of myself. Do forgive me for my arrogance. I should know better than to antagonize my allies." He nods toward her in respect. Then, a slight smile crosses his face. "If you believe it necessary, you may-"

Pain flares from the orb. Gale gasps, completely caught off guard by the agonizing throb it releases. He stumbles for a few steps before stopping.

It hungers for magic. He can feel his control of the orb slip. Gale tries to take steadying breaths to ease the pain and overwhelming yearning, but it does little to help.

"-alright?! Gale, look at me!" Shadowheart's voice barely registers in his ears, like the wind chimes in Waterdeep as the storms hit. It's there, but hardly noticeable against the terror of losing control.

When was the last time he consumed magic? He can't remember two lifetimes ago, but it must've been before he was taken onto the nautiloid.

That's not good. That's not good at all. It's been days since he last fed the orb. He remembers now, that he had to feed the same day he met his companions. Before, he told Tav of his condition as they exited the Grove. They offered a powerful ring and it sated the beast until after they had destroyed the Goblin Camp and saved Halsin.

But Gale has not fed it yet. He's long overdue and if he doesn't focus, he may lose it at this very moment.

Breathe in, then out. Stabilize. Hold the Weave in, like blocking the sun from his eyes. He can stop this. He has before and he will now.

"M-Magic..." Gale gasps. He would cast a prayer to Mystra, if he thought she would respond. Instead, he gives a sort of prayer to Tav instead. He falls to his knees, fingers clenched over the glowing orb, and begs. "I need...I need magic!"

"Magic? In what form?" Tav asks, her githyanki features screwing in a frown. She stands there, unmoving in her confusion.

Shadowheart looks between them, concern radiant in her expression. "Gale, what's the matter? Do you need me to heal you?" She raises her hands in preparation for her spell.

"Are wizards supposed to glow?" Astarion couldn't be less bothered.

They're wasting time. Gale groans as the throbbing worsens, from a sharp pain to humming energy. It's growing, he knows. He needs to absorb magic now!

Without thinking, Gale reaches out and snatches the necklace from Tav's neck. Before anyone can protest, he pulls it to his chest and takes the Weave from inside. It hardly satisfies the orb, like a single drop of water in a vast desert, but it's enough to regain control. Gale can pull himself back together until he feels nothing but the constant ache.

When he stands again, Gale is met with three scowls.

"What in the hells was that?!" Astarion demands, as if he was the one who lost a necklace.

"Did you just absorb the magic from that locket?" Shadowheart stares at the hanging charm still clenched in his hand. "How- why?!"

Tav's grey eyes glare into Gale with burning anger. "Spill your secrets before I decide you're more trouble than you're worth, Wizard." Green fingers twitch toward her sword, a warning and a threat.

Gale has no choice, then. "I didn't mean to cause a scene, but it seems this was unavoidable." It was entirely avoidable, if he had the forethought to simply remember it.

A deep breath, then Gale explains. He tells them about his connections to the Weave, and how the orb was a gift for his Goddess, only for it to become lodged in his own chest. It now serves as a constant reminder of his failures to Mystra and just why she cast him aside-

"Yes, this is all so very interesting, but I do believe we have a camp of goblins to kill." Astarion interrupts.

Now, Gale has never gotten along particularly well with Astarion. The man is far too flirty and selfish, if Gale could be blunt about the matter. Not to mention the fact he had stolen a drink from Karlach, unaware that a single taste would give him exactly what a thieving vampire deserves. And drinking without asking aside, Astarion seemed all too bored by the ways of magic. He never spoke to Gale unless he needed something, so Gale never really spoke to him.

But this? This is simply rude. "You asked about my condition. Would you prefer it if I didn't answer to the fullest of my abilities?"

"Yes, but I don't need your entire sex life added in."

"This is much more than just my-"

"Chk! Enough!" Tav stops them with a single hand. Gale's Tav used to do that as well, with Lae'zel and Shadowheart. It was amusing at the time, but now Gale realizes it's not nearly as much so when receiving the gesture. "We have much more to worry about than this bickering. The tadpoles come first." She turns her steely gaze to Astarion. "You, silence your whining for a moment longer. You will have plenty to kill soon."

Astarion's offense is very much amusing, but Gale doesn't get the chance to revel in it. Not before Tav is turning to him.

"And you! I can provide you with magic, but you must ask me first. Your condition is severe but I will not allow you to take items from my neck again. Understood?"

"Entirely and fully, Ma'am." He nods solemnly. This Tav is too much like Lae'zel for his comfort.

Gale thinks of the Tav he remembers as they walk. A good leader, but not one who grew up on the cultures of the githyanki. They were strong but not unkind. They joked and allowed for a light amount of banter, so long as it didn't cross into genuine argument. Gale could relax around them.

Not like he can this Tav.

Longing tastes bitter as Gale swallows it down. He knows it's unfair. This Tav is a fine leader in her own right. She too is strong; and while she may put up with less of their nonsense, she doesn't dismiss their needs. He can be grateful for those small mercies.

Gale only hopes that this Tav can be the same under all of these changes. He longs for that ripe love they held for each other. The feeling that he matters to someone, is loved by someone besides Mystra, as blasphemous as the thought feels.

Time will only tell.

Chapter 2: Goblins

They've been through the Blightlands and while the path wasn't very straight, they've finally crossed into the edges of the Goblin Camp.

Gale's skin stings from their run around in the spider's den. He's been poisoned enough for a lifetime, but more is sure to come, he knows. His Tav had never found that den and when the githyanki decided she would march directly into the mouth of an ominous-looking -and smelling- cave, Gale nearly pulled her back by the wrist and demanded they refocus.

But, with their coin pouches a little heavier and a new set of armor for Astarion, Gale can't say it was an entire waste. He did manage to gather a few ingredients for some alchemy as well. Since he's the only one who really knows the recipes or cares to keep track of the ingredients as they adventure, it has been placed on Gale to mix them any potion he can.

It won't be until the Underdark that Gale can really make something powerful, but they certainly aren't ready for that just yet.

They move closer to the camp entrance in a low crawl. With so many Goblins about, it would be ill-advised to simply walk in. From here, they can see Volo standing in front of the group, reciting poems and whatever else he can to keep them entertained. Tav did warn him of the dangers before he set out, but at least the man is alive. Gale didn't care for him at first, but the man is one of literature. Putting his odd quirks aside, Gale can appriciate someone like Volo.

Volo wouldn't be the first person he's had to do that for.

"While that all looks good and fun," speaking of the vampire- "I believe it best if we set up camp for the night. I'd rather be well rested before a proper bloodbath."

Tav stares at Astarion, then turns to the others. "How much of your magic have you expended?"

Shadowheart grimaces. "I'm not fairing too well. I have perhaps a couple more before I'll be left with my lowest spells."

"Sadly, I am much the same. While I may be a great and powerful wizard, even Mystra's best has his limits."

A nod as Tav looks back to the camp, almost in...longing? Disappointment, more likely. "Agreed. Let us find a place to set up for the night."

With that, they venture a mile or so back into the forest and set up for their first night. Wyll meets with them again, his head still free of horns. Wherever he was, the man didn't find Karlach.

It's been a rising concern as they go on. They are planning on attacking the goblins early tomorrow; yet, they still haven't found Karlach. She's likely out bleeding by the waterfalls still, her engine heart roaring hotter than ever. She's alone and without their company.

Gale knows Karlach to be strong and beyond capable. She's a most excellent companion in every way, but she's not infallible. Wyll isn't the only one who wants her head on a pike. If they wait long enough, will she be overpowered by those paladins sent to drag her back down to Avernus? Will Zariel reclaim her weapon?

He doesn't know, and although the thought of breaking off to find Karlach himself is a tempting one, Gale remains where he is. Less out of self-preservation and more because he trusts Tav will find her before fate does. And if Tav doesn't push them in Karlach's direction, Wyll most definitely will. He's a good man but not the most patient when it comes to these things. His aim is Karlach and his pact with Mizora. Even the tadpoles come second for him.

Having gotten used to the routine of things, Gale sets up his tent quickly, so he can then work on their evening meal. He sorts through their pack of rummaged perishables, clever fingers running over each item to test their freshness and uses. Once he's gathered a good blend -no mushrooms for Shadowheart and a little extra spice for Lae'zel's bowl- Gale prepares a pot of water to be sanitized.

They've gathered some meats as well. A good find in such barren lands. Without much thought, Gale extracts the blood from them, setting it aside in another container for Astarion. Then, he starts the meat cooking for the rest of them. While it would take away from his collections for alchemy, Gale does use some of the balsam and mergrass for the stew. It'll give that edge of healing they need and rumor has it that mergrass sharpens the mind -both things they will need for the upcoming day.

"My, my. Magic and cooking? What can't you do?" Astarion's voice pulls Gale from his thoughts.

Without thinking, Gale offers the jar of blood. "Well, it certainly comes in thanks to my mother. She was less a wizard and more an inventor, I'd say. An inventor of tastes and talents. I remember, when I was young, she would- What?" Gale stops, his line of thinking stopped at Astarion's expression.

The man's eyes have narrowed and a sneer twists his lips. Gone is the playful act. "...You're offering me a jar of blood?" There's a threat in his tone. It gives away the secret Gale forgot he had to keep. He tries to retract the gesture, but it's too late. Even if he lies and says it has nutritional value and he too drinks a jar of blood every day, no one will be fooled.

A quick glance around shows that the rest of their party is still setting up, but they will be finished soon. Scratch has already started to sniff in their direction, likely hungry for a scrap of their dinner.

"I don't plan on telling anyone," Gale says, straight to the point but hopefully not as tense as he feels. "I've read many books on creatures of your...nature. Undead and creatures of the dark. Lycan used to be a special interest of mine when I was young, you know."

Astarion's glare doesn't let up. "So, you won't run me out, then? Aren't scared a vampire will come and suck you dry while you aren't looking?"

He...could make a comment, but Gale refrains. He doesn't have time for those sorts of jokes, especially knowing the few pieces he does about the way Cazador treated him. "I can't speak for the others, but I find no reason to fault you for your secrets. It's not as if I didn't attempt to hide my own. I only suggest you consider asking others before taking their blood. You may be surprised with how agreeable this lot can be."

If things go the way they did last time, Astarion should have at least one person willing to let him drink when he needs.

"Besides," Gale continues, a smile cracking over his lips. "My blood would not be to your tastes. Believe me. I've been told I taste of bile."

At last, Astarion's guard lowers. The sauve expression returns and the pale elf takes his offered jar. "Bile, you say? And how would you know that? Have you a habit of befriending vampires?"

"Not in the least." Gale smiles, glad to be done with the worst of that conversation. "Vampires aren't the only creatures looking to taste blood. They are simply infamed for it. Like river leeches."

A scoff, then Astarion frowns again. "You're lucky I can't gut you here and now for that comment." His tone balances dangerously between a real threat and teasing

Gale laughs awkwardly. "Ah, I didn't mean anything by it. I simply drew the connection between your dietary-"

"Do shut up." Astarion sighs like the conversation has drained him more than any combat so far. He starts to leave, the jar held tightly in both hands, but then he stops. "You...didn't get this from a thinking creature...did you?"

Gale forces a smile. "No, I did not; and the very thought that I may have done such a thing is quite the misjudgement of my character." They crossed a number of dead bodies on their way here already, but never once has he thought to mutilate them for their blood! Astarion may have no standards when it comes to handling the deceased, but that doesn't mean Gale is the same!

"Yes, yes. Tell them I'm washing up or whatever." Astarion waves his hand as he goes. He stops for a third time. "Oh, and Gale? If you tell anyone about this, I'll make sure you regret it dearly."

He doesn't get the chance to properly respond before Wyll starts in their direction. So, he swallows annoyance and responds with a smile. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Astarion walks into the forest just as Wyll sits down, his face lit up in an orange hue from the roaring fire. "Gale, you never mentioned you could cook! This smells amazing!"

Gale tries to shake himself out of the odd feeling that remains with him, but it lingers in his chest. This is why he never initiated conversations with Astarion. "Well, it certainly comes in thanks to my mother. She had an affinity for it and it seemed to have passed along."

"I would be inclined to agree." Wyll smiles. He grabs a bowl stacked to Gale's left, then reaches over to pour himself some. The man must really be hungry because he doesn't think until it's already half full. "Oh, I'm sorry! May I?"

It would be ridiculous to refuse him a meal, even if it weren't for him. "Be my guest." Wyll sits again, relieved. "After the day we've all had, I believe you've well earned some thoughtlessness. Though, you must tell me how it compares to the cooks at the tiefling camps." A little boost to his ego can't hurt.

Wyll eats a spoonful, then he dives back in for another. Only after the third, does the man get a word out. "Good! It's very, very good. Everything tastes well-balanced and the spice has a kick that I quite enjoy. The meat is tender too." He takes another spoonful. "And you said your mother invented this recipe?"

"Oh, no. I've more or less thrown it together myself, but the know-how is all hers. She wanted to ensure I knew how to not only survive with my cooking, but how to thrive with it. Of course, I didn't appreciate the skill at the time. It was never as fulfilling as manipulating the Weave or reading about endless adventures, but I've come to enjoy it now." He only really does when it's for his companions. It takes effort to cook after a long day, especially when he's been the one out fighting for their lives, but the reward is worth it. Full bellies and bright smiles from each of them.

It makes Gale feel important, like he has a real place among them besides his use of the Weave. It's another reason for them to let him stay.

Maybe if he cooked for Mystra...no. A stupid thought. No Goddess would be impressed with a mortal's meal. If his power with her domain was not enough, then nothing else he could possibly do would be either.

Other than obeying her word and destroying the Absolute with the orb in his chest.

"If I may ask," Wyll pulls Gale back to the present. Shadowheart has now gotten herself a bow too, but she takes it back to her tent, away from everyone else. "What was your conversation with Astarion about? I haven't had much of a chance to meet him and he seemed...well, unhappy."

While Gale doesn't take Astarion's threat seriously, he does understand and respect the vampire's wishes for privacy. He knows better than anyone how that feels. "Ah, his clothes, you see. They got stained and he was concerned they would be ruined. I suggested a mending spell, but he said he would rather try his own hand at it. It's no bother to me."

Now, he has to hope that Wyll doesn't ask Astarion the same question.

"Oh. Well, then I'll save him a bowl. We can't let him go hungry simply because he's concerned for his armor."

"I have one saved already." Gale lies. "He's ensured I did."

Conversation dies down after that. Even with Lae'zel and Tav joining them, there's little to say for tomorrow. They don't know enough to properly strategize and even if they did, Tav has never been the type to do that. They would rather go in with a blaze and kick ass however they can.

Of course, Gale isn't sure what this Tav will do.

He tries not to stare as he watches her spoon out a few chunks of meat for Scratch. The dog accepts them happily and it puts a sweet smile on Tav's face. It's like the one Gale knows, where their lips press up until their cheeks wrinkle at the edges. Even with githyanki features, it's endearing. He can see the kindness within. Where Lae'zel is stern and fierce, this Tav is caring at her core. She shows it in an odd way, but it doesn't go unnoticed by Gale.

Tav meets his eyes and he quickly tries to appear as if his weren't already locked on her. She shifts, her smile disappearing as she gets back to business. The moment is gone too soon.

"Gale, I would prefer if you remained here tomorrow."

Gale blinks. He opens his mouth to protest, then stops. "I question the wisdom of that decision, but it is your call to make."

"Good. I need a steady blade for this mission and I can't afford to part with the others. Rest here while you can."

That bit stings. Quite a lot, actually. It makes his eyes ache but Gale is nothing if not stubborn. He stands, his own bowl of stew no longer appealing in the slightest. "I'll be sure to. The best of luck to you- and Lae'zel. Both of you. Big day tomorrow." He waits for a long few seconds, then he turns to retreat to his tent. Once inside, Gale closes the flaps and tries to forget what he can. Just as he did for that year in his tower, after Mystra cast him out, Gale distracts himself from the aching in his chest with his books. And if not his books, then the Weave at his fingertips.

It isn't personal, he tells himself. A good leader must make difficult calls and this may be one of them.

But the words haunt him late into the night. They keep his eyes from closing, and his heart from steadying enough to sleep.

It's a cruel thought, but Gale almost wishes his fate could come sooner.

---

Gale reads in his tent, the quiet of the evening washing over the whole party like an aura of serene Weave. He's lost in the pages of his book, old spells he could once cast before he fell from Mystra's grace, return to him in perfect knowledge. He's a far cry from who he once was, but at least this has stayed the same. Learning at any opportunity he finds and absorbing each word like a bloodthirsty vampire.

The tranquil moment ends when a soggy, leather ball bounces off his shoulder, then rolls a few feet away. It starts Gale out of his own mind and back into the present. He looks up to see Scratch run toward the ball, his tongue hanging out in pure bliss. Once the dog has retrieved his ball, he trots back to Tav, who takes the ball again without so much as a bink. They throw it into the distance, then turn to walk toward Gale, a smile on their face.

It's been a very long month since they all met, but the connection Gale feels with this odd tiefling is almost immediate. They think he's smart and funny and, as he'll quote, 'the best fuck they've had in a good while'.

It's done quite a number on his already inflated ego.

"I'm usually better at aiming for the face," Tav says, their smile leaning on teasing. "Perhaps some practice is in order."

Gale welcomely accepts their company as the tiefling sits by his side. "While I would usually encourage the need to keep one's skill acute, I'd prefer if it didn't involve slobber-filled balls." They give him a look and Gale lets out a flushered laugh. "That is not what I meant; though, the offer doesn't sound unpleasant."

They roll their eyes and sit back on their hands. Red, firey eyes stare out at the rest of camp, seeming to not really take in information and rather just to...look. Without looking at him, they ask, "What are you reading?"

"A book of old tomes." Gale holds it up proudly. He flips a few pages back to show some of his favorite spells. "I once had the ability to cast them all, when I was by Mystra's side. She helped me to manipulate the Weave's strands as if it were nothing more than a loom. I held the very threads of magic in my fingers. To have power like that is unspeakable-"

"-I've been thinking lately." They interrupt.

Gale lowers the book, only slightly disheartened at the intrusion. "Ah. Quite a dangerous feat. Once your mind gets up to something, there's no telling what havoc you'll bring down upon us." He tries for teasing again. It doesn't land well and the tension builds.

Now, those eyes are on him and him alone. Gale can't quite figure out what to do with them as they look into the deepest parts of his soul, like Mystra's judgment. He almost fears what they may see.

"We'll be at the Moonrise Towers soon. We'll find the heart of this whole mess and you'll...do what you do best." They try for a smile but it doesn't stay long. "What I'm saying is...I'm scared. I'm scared about the Absolute and the Nightsong and everything in between. What if you blowing it all sky-high isn't enough? What if it kills us before then?"

"Ah, the heart of the matter. Well, I can't say you're the only one with such fears. All of us worry for what the future will bring. It's the nature of things, it seems, to be at the whims of another as we search to achieve a goal far above what we think possible. But weaker heroes have done more than what we plan to do. Surely, with all of our efforts put together, we'll get the outcome we want."

His words of comfort do little to ease Tav's expression. So, Gale moves closer. He wraps his arms around their shoulders and lets them hold him tightly. It knocks his book to the dusty floor.

"I promise you that whatever happens, I will ensure I take the Absolute with me." Gale breathes. "I've made peace with my end. Trust that I will make good use of it."

He hasn't, but they don't need to know that. They don't need to see how the very thought terrifies him; how he wakes in a sweat from dreams of doing exactly what Mystra has asked of him. What Tav asks of him.

This won't be about him. It's about what will save everyone else.

"Thank you," Tav whispers back, their head leaning against his. "Thank you for this."

Without a thought, Gale answers, "Anything for you."

---

When Gale wakes from the two or so hours of sleep he's gotten, Tav and the rest are already gone.

After a quick meal of stale bread and last night's leftovers, Gale joins Wyll where he stands guard. It's the only real way they can be useful in this fight. Bringing all six of them would make stealth impossible and adding Halsin's rescue on top of it all would bring far too much risk than it's worth. Besides, Tav made herself clear. She doesn't need them for this.

So, they sit on the outskirts of the Goblin Camp's entrance. The hill they've crawled up gives them a high view of it all, allowing them to catch any ambushers or reinforcements before they can become a real problem.

The lack of sleep weighs on Gale's shoulders. Maybe it's for the best he didn't go, if the ache in his muscles is anything to go by. He really would've been useless.

"You don't think they'll spend the whole day in there, do you?" Wyll asks. His eyes are focused but his tone gives way to his apprehension. He too looks tired despite having been awake before Gale. Maybe it's Karlach that weighs on his mind, or perhaps something else. Gale might've spent an entire previous life with the man, but he's never been good at reading the others. Tav was the only one who made complete sense to him. The rest fell into place along the way, Asatrion being the least understood among them.

He blames their innumerable differences for that fact.

"In an ideal world, they wouldn't, but there's no way to tell for sure. Not without knowing the future, anyway." Gale answers after a long yawn. He does know the future, so he can guess it'll take close to five hours. "If they reach Halsin quickly, then it won't be long after that, I'm sure. He's quite a skilled druid and invaluable to their goal. Honestly, I would feel sorry for those meddling Goblins, if this wasn't exactly what they deserve for allying themselves with unknown forces so much larger than they."

Gale realizes his slip only after Wyll has given him a surprised look. "You know Halsin? I thought you said you were in Waterdeep before the nautiloid took you."

Shit!

"Ah, not personally, of course." Gale quickly smiles in reassurance. "Though, the tieflings certainly told enough stories to paint a clear picture. He's the leader of a large group of druids- and even more so, he's a fabled healer among their own kind! No, one doesn't need to meet a man like Halsin to know exactly how useful he is."

For some reason, Wyll remains surprised.

"What?" Gale rethinks everything he just said, worried he might've just hammered the metaphorical nail into his literal coffin.

Wyll looks away, flustered. "N-Nothing. I just...I suppose I judged you too quickly." The warlock shifts to turn his body toward Gale instead of the camp. It feels much more intimate than it should. "When we first met, I assumed you were nothing but a prideful, self-righteous wizard. I've known many like that when I lived in Baldur's Gate. They were more concerned with their own image and knowledge than those around them.

"But you've shown that you're different from that. You listened to the tieflings and took all of their words into account. I misjudged you and I apologize for it."

What Wyll obviously meant as a compliment makes Gale's stomach sink. He's suddenly nauseous and it takes a moment of concentration to will the feeling away. "I appreciate it." The words are choked out as he gets to his feet. "I, uh...will be back. It seems this morning's coffee has run its course faster than I anticipated."

Gale leaves before he can get much of a response. He walks through the forest until he's made it to a mossy river that runs lazily downstream. The nausea worsens as he moves to sit on a nearby rock, both hands rubbing at his eyes until he sees stars. They shake slightly, like he's just used a too-powerful spell.

Wyll thinks he's kind. More than that, he thinks Gale cares. In the other man's eyes, they are the same. They help those in need simply because it's the right thing to do. He thinks Gale crafted an image of Halsin's greatness purely off of the awe in the tiefling's eyes and the worship of their mouths.

Wyll thinks that Gale is a good person, but he couldn't be further from the truth.

Gale Dekarios is selfish to his very core. He was given a place by Mystra's side and it still wasn't enough for him. He took from his own Goddess before he could be satisfied with himself. He spent a year in isolation from his dear, lonely mother because he would rather be consumed by self-pity than allow her to help. He spent every moment in the nautiloid thankful that someone else was being infected instead of him. Until it was him.

He didn't let the orb take them because he wanted the Absolute gone. Not really. No, he wanted to win back Mystra's favor. He wanted to honor her command in desperate hopes that things would return to how they were before he was an inconsequential fool. He killed his Tav for the love of someone else.

And he'll do it again. Gale knows that once he reaches that point for the second time, nothing will change. He will activate the orb, his gods damned fear ignored, and it will mean nothing to his Mystra. He will mean nothing.

Through the cloud of disgust in himself and worry for what Wyll may say upon realizing exactly how wrong he is, a thought pulls to the front of Gale's mind.

He used the orb before and he landed back on the nautiloid, alive. Who's to say that won't happen again? And again and again?

Who brought him back here and why?

Was it Mystra? Did he fail her single command somehow and has now been sent backward to try again? Gale doesn't know of a strand of the Weave that has such a power, but he isn't the deity that controls the Weave. Surely Mystra has ways a mere mortal could never understand.

But if that is the case, then why hasn't she told him so by now? She was very quick to command he use the orb once they learned of the Absolute's origin.

Perhaps the answer lies within the question. If Mystra is already sending Elminster his way for one message, who's to say she can't send two this time over? Yes, that sounds the most likely. It avoids her having to address him directly, at least. Not that Mystra is the type that would be afraid to address a mortal, no matter their history.

He'll wait, then. Once Elminster delivers her message, Gale will know for certain what he's done to deserve this and hopefully, how to fix it.

Until then, he has more to focus on than himself. If Wyll thinks him so good, then he might as well act the part and stand guard as he should.

With a deep breath, Gale stands again. His stomach has settled, more or less, and the overwhelming emotions have calmed enough for his mind to function as it should. He makes the short trek back to Wyll's side in silence; and when he returns, the other man doesn't say a word. Perhaps the awkward excuse Gale used has shushed any sentimental thoughts that might've come up. Or maybe Wyll is simply tired of words. He's one of the few of Gale's companions who doesn't mind silence.

They spend the next few hours in a mixture of silence and polite conversation. Gale receives a magical item to absorb, then Wyll opens up more about his father and his life as the Balde of the Frontiers. He has many stories to tell, but most follow the same path Gale already knows. Mizora orders him to kill a demon and he does it; though, Wyll has yet to mention his horrible patron just yet.

At some point, Shadowheart runs out from a side exit of the camp. Gale immediately assumes the worst and jumps up to help in any way he can, but she instead turns her attention to Wyll.

"We found Haslin but Tav wants you beside her for their meeting. She believes you may be a welcoming face."

"It would be my pleasure." Wyll nods, then he rushes down the very path Shadowheart took to come here.

Gale doesn't speak until he's out of earshot. "Tell me, was that a clever excuse you pulled to spare yourself from the fight? I wouldn't fault you if that were the case."

Shadowheart doesn't catch onto the fact he's joking. Mostly. "Of course, not." She frowns. "I value my place in this party. Tav may be a good cleric, but I'm a better healer. We all know it."

That piques Gale's curiosity. "Then why send you instead of, say, Astarion? Surely she needs a skillful healer over one rogue? In fact, I would assume that a rouge would be of little use in a camp like that. There's little to hide behind when a swarm of Goblins are on all sides."

"I don't know." Shadowheart shrugs, unbothered. "Perhaps she would prefer the two of you didn't kill each other while we were busy saving lives." Then, a sly look crosses the woman's face. "Or maybe she just likes him better. He is pretty, if you're into that sort of thing. Pale skin, white hair, a look that could make a weaker woman faint."

Gale resists the urge to roll his eyes. He worries they may never return after something so ridiculous. "While I admit Astarion has a certain...charm, he most definitely isn't irresistible. A pretty face only goes so far if one's personality is purely false. And for the case of our rouge, that couldn't be more true."

"If you say so." Shadowheart looks bored as she watches the front entrance for activity. "I will say, it was entertaining. There was a cultist there who got off on pain. Tav was kind enough to indulge."

Ah. A masochist, then. It's not Gale's preference and the thought of engaging in it makes him squirm, but he will if she wants. Just as long as she lets him stay with her. Being so far drives him mad and the loneliness has already started to creep back in.

Gods, it's only been a day and a half since he died. A day and a half and he's already desperate to feel someone else's touch and love again. No wonder Mystra discarded him.

"Wow." Shadowheart's voice pulls him back before Gale can spiral any further. He turns to see her staring with a mirthful smile. "You must really be thinking if you've lost your words."

"I do enjoy silence when the time comes for it, thank you." Gale isn't really offended, but he plays it up for humor's sake. He's gotten worse insults from Shadowheart alone. And recently. "In fact, I may show you just that by remaining silent until they return. Unless, of course, there's another need for speaking. I can't well put us in danger's way by nothing more than a stubborn streak."

The cleric turns away; amused, clearly. "You've done a wonderful job so far."

Gale pointedly doesn't respond. Silence passes over them until, as he said, the party returns with Halsin in tow.

Notes:

Wyll: I think you're kinda nice.
Gale: Let me shit real quick

Chapter 3: Falling

The night returns quickly and with it come the tieflings. Gale watches it all happen again. First, the refugees file in around the place they've set up. Zevlor offers an entire crate full of wines; and as night falls, the bards play to their heart's content. People dance and rejoice in their freedom, their safety. The Minthara has been stopped and the Absolute, while still a present issue, has ceased the endless torment on Emerald Grove. Haslin has knocked Kagha off of her pedestal and stopped the ridiculous ritual before it can be performed.

It's nice, Gale has to admit. To see so much joy in a time where there is a scarcity of it puts him at ease for the time being. He lets go of the future, forgets about the orb and everything it will mean, and simply enjoys the night.

He speaks with Halsin first. The man is wonderful company and a handsome face certainly doesn't subtract from it. He speaks like the mountains themselves and his smile is the very soil of the earth they stand on. He's so very...druid that it's almost too much.

"I don't think we've been properly introduced." Halsin nods in greeting. "Are you the wizard they speak of? Or the Cleric?"

Gale blinks in surprise, then quickly recovers for the sake of the conversation. He can reminisce on the thought of Tav speaking well of him to a near stranger later."Gale of Waterdeep, Mystra's Chosen wizard. Well, formerly, but that's of little consequence at the moment." He shakes the man's hand. It nearly entirely engulfs Gale's. "I'm pleased to see you've returned in one piece. Those Goblins may be stout but they certainly know their way around pointed sticks and sharpened bones."

A thunderous laugh is reduced to a low rumble as Halsin raises his full glass. "That, I can agree on." The man shifts and it's as if a tree has fallen. His steps may crush the soft ground they've set up on.

Yes, Gale is exaggerating, but Halsin's size has always been astonishing to him.

Just then, Tav and the others finally join them. The tieflings cheer and roar in applause for their heroes. A few even go as far as to clap them on the back, uncaring about the blood dried on their armor.

They retreat to freshen up, all of them looking exhausted but relieved to spend the night celebrating.

"They have arrived." Halsin nods toward Tav. "I will say, I haven't met a githyanki thus far, but I've come to like them based on the two who saved me. A fearless people, to be sure."

"I couldn't agree more." Gale watches Tav as she returns to her evening wear. Like Lae'zel, she prefers to show more skin than most others at camp, but it frames her very well. The black leather against pale, green skin is certainly...a sight—one he can't quite ignore.

Ripping his eyes away, Gale nods back to Halsin. "It was an honor to meet you-" 'Again', goes unsaid, "-but I should return to my tent before I've taken up your whole night."

Being the kind-hearted man he is, Halsin takes it in stride. "May the Oakfather's blessings be upon you this fine evening, Gale of Waterdeep."

"And to you." Gale nods before leaving. He snatches a full bottle of wine before he takes station at his own space again. He's determined to have a good time tonight and the very object of his attraction has just arrived.

Gale waits for Tav to make her rounds. She speaks to Halsin first, most likely about the future of the Grove and what his path leading on will mean. Whatever the conversation is, Gale doesn't know the specifics. He simply remembers Halsin staying with them afterward.

She goes to Lae'zel after, likely to speak more about their githyanki creche idea. It won't work, but there's little to say to actually dissuade them from it.

Next is Shadowheart, who has little to say it seems. Then Astarion after. Tav stops by a few of the tieflings as she goes toward the river Wyll has left to mope at. Gale can't remember why the man's mood was so disheartened this evening, but it'll fix itself in time regardless. Perhaps he's found out his father was taken? Or maybe he still aches to hunt down Karlach, who has yet to make an appearance.

A shame. She loved this party.

Finally, Tav turns her gaze to him. He tries not to look eager as she approaches, a wine glass still nearly full in his hand. By this point, the alcohol has started to affect him, making his tongue loose and his mind focused on one thing alone.

Getting exactly what he lost.

Then again, an already loose tongue could be the makings of a disaster.

"My, are your eyes dazzling in this light." Gale breathes. "I can hardly say I've witnessed anything quite like you, my Tav. The honor you hold for lives other than your own, it- it's astonishing! You leave me breathless as I watch your good heart touch those all around you. If I had the power, I would craft art itself to resemble your greatness- and even then, it could never come close to the magnificence of a being such as you. You burn with a fury to do right and I can see it in your very eyes. Ironic, given their color."

He regrets it all as soon as Tav grimaces.

"Uh...apologizes. I've had a touch too much wine it seems." Gale sets his cup down with a frown, as if it was the thing that betrayed him and not his own buffoon of a heart. "What I mean is...you amaze me. I'd had little connections like the one we do and I simply wish...I...I wish for us to..." He can't seem to finish his sentence.

He suddenly doesn't see Tav the same. There's no ghost of flaming eyes or tiefling horns. There is just her, a githyanki with a severe face. She watches him carefully as he fumbles over himself, the grimace not quite disappearing.

Gods, he's a fool.

"I-I meant to say-"

"Gale," Tav stops him, her voice softer than usual. Its typical rasp turns to honey as she gently holds both hands out. "I admire your dedication. You're a good wizard and a valuable asset to our cause, but..." She sighs. "I will give you grace for your drunkenness and speak plainly. I do not love you. I understand you had a connection to your Goddess, but ours is not the same. You are my friend and nothing more."

Gale's throat goes tight. His heart beats fast as he tries to comprehend what she's telling him through the fog of wine and desire. "I...Is it what I said? I assure you, I'm typically better at this! Perhaps not tonight, but another, I could tell you properly-"

"I do not love you and I may never." Tav presses firmly. "This is not your words but mine. Honor it and we will move on."

And what choice does Gale have but to accept? "Right. Yes, of course. A disappointment, but...goodnight." He nods with a forced smile, then retreats into his tent. For the second time, he's left heartbroken and alone.

The sound of Tav leaving makes the reality sink in fully. He's never going to have that love his Tav gave him. From now on, until the end of his life, Gale will be alone. He'll be more than alone. Fighting by Tav's side, being with her but never really with her...it'll tear him apart. The path ahead is treacherous and he only did it because he had that connection to someone. He had someone to make him better- whole even.

Without that, what does he have? There is no Mystra waiting for him. There is no Tav. Is this how he was supposed to change his fate? To end himself and leave the world as nothing more than a blip in time? His life, his entire existence, will have meant nothing. For all his worth, he might as well be a real bomb, made of runepowder instead of organic tissues.

He's a vessel for destruction. Perhaps he always was.

Old thoughts return to him, then. The self-hatred sinks into his heart, just like it had after Mystra cast him away. He sits in his tent with both knees pulled to his chest, nothing but a hollow anger bubbling inside of him. Every criticism Mystra said of him; every insult and ill word resurfaces. It seers into the front of his mind. A poison far more potent than any other.

Gale has returned to his tower, where he will spend the rest of his life in isolation or let the orb do its job.

Footsteps echo from outside Gale's tent and for a fleeting moment, he wonders if Tav has changed her mind. But once the tent flap is open, he sees nothing but the vague shadows of sleeping bodies and the rows of tents. The festivities have all but ended, leaving nothing but a dimly glowing fire and dozens of wine bottles that will need to be cleaned up in the morning.

Through the darkness, Gale can barely make out the figure of Tav. She would be impossible to place if not for her unique profile. She stands a little ways away, at the front of another tent. He can see her shift, those intense eyes likely scanning all around her. If Gale can remember correctly, githyanki don't have Darkvision, so his cover is unlikely to be blown. It's not as if he's doing much more than just peeking out.

Just then, another figure steps out of the tent and they meet Tav with a curve of their hand and a flirtatious chuckle. Gale's heart plummets into his stomach as he realizes what's happening. Pointed ears and short, -most definitely white- curls on top. It's Astarion.

Tav has rejected him for Astarion. Not only that, but she's gone off to sleep with him shortly after said rejection.

The hollow numb Gale felt before is replaced with a hatred that burns so hot, it would rival the engine in Karlach's chest. He glares at the pair as they leave for their...fun, his breaths coming out in huffs of pure disdain.

As Gale settles back in his own tent, he feels the urge to hurt something, but sense takes over before he can march over to those sickening 'love birds' and speak his mind. They've already retreated, anyhow. Off to share a love locked away from Gale.

So, he picks up the closest book and throws it out of his tent. It flies through the air with surprising speed and then lands harshly against Astarion's tent. Gale glares the item down as if it were the pale elf instead of his favorite volume of green dragon history.

...Which, Gale then immediately goes out to pick up. He checks the spine for damage and frowns at the cracks that run along the inseam. That was wrong of him. It didn't deserve to be treated so viciously simply because he's incapable of controlling his emotions.

But even so, as he sets the volume back in its place beside the others, safe from his unkind hands once more, Gale becomes very sure of one thing.

He hates Astarion.

---

Now, hate is a strong word, and perhaps not the right one used once Gale is sober in the morning. It's not unfair to blame Astarion, after all. Both he and Tav are full adults who can make their own choices on who they'd prefer to spend the rest of their lives with. Gale has no right to be cruel simply because he wasn't the one chosen.

That being said, his sour mood doesn't improve any as he, Tav, Astarion, and Wyll go looking for the tiefling from Avernus.

Thankfully, he goes ignored for the most part. Tav is intent on helping Wyll, who's far too focused on the task at hand. Astarion pays no mind to anyone, really, but himself; and as vexing as it is, at least it's expected. Gale has put up with this part of Astarion for much longer than anyone else. He has patience, no matter how thin it's been stretched thus far.

They come to the Risen Road, at long last. Already, Gale can see the buildings that hold the paladins searching for Karlach. Below that will be the woman herself, a trail of blood left at her feet. It's not an uncommon sight, but it does hold different in this context. Here, Karlach is running from those who wish to keep her in chains. She isn't killing out of pure bloodlust -unlike certain others.

As soon as Wyll sees her, the warlock is charging with his blade ready. Tav follows close after, her expression just as severe. Karlach is hunched over her chest, the faint glow of it growing until she finds the strength to stand and face them. As always, there's a smile on her lips. It never ceases to amaze Gale, how she can keep a good head about her in the worst of times.

"You!" Wyll hisses, his eyes burning nearly as hot as Karlach herself. "I've finally found you."

Gale tunes out the rest of the conversation in favor of watching Astarion. He already knows how this will end and while it would be wisest to pay careful attention, should anything change, he doesn't much care for it at the moment. Tav won't let Wyll do anything. And if she does, Gale can always stop them before anyone dies. A broken bone or two would be deserved.

What about Astarion is so...captivating, so charming, that even a githyanki warrior like Tav can't resist him? Is it the threat of possible danger? Not many get the chance to bed a vampire, nor one that is an ally. Perhaps she enjoys the sweet nothings Astarion can whisper into her ear. But if that were the case, couldn't she have chosen anyone? Gale certainly knows a few words that could bend a knee or two. He's read more romances than Astarion has likely ever been in; and while experience is a key factor, the elf really doesn't seem the type for a long-term relationship. Not one as absolutely devout as Gale could offer, at least.

Then perhaps it's as simple as Astarion's pretty face. It's not the answer Gale wants to accept; but, to his dismay, it's the most likely. Astarion's entire frame seems to have been created for nothing but charming others. He's thin, pale, reasonably well groomed, and always has this look in his eyes that screams 'I'll ruin anyone else for you'.

Of course, Tav would prefer that over Gale. Mystra hadn't enjoyed his body as much as his connections to the Weave. Even his Tav had mentioned how his looks could be deceivingly plain. Dark eyes, dark hair, no highlightable features of any kind, besides the orb; and that most definitely isn't a part of his appeal. All he can offer are his words and love. If that isn't enough, then perhaps they're both better off like this.

No matter how much it hurts.

"Oh, you're a grumpy wizard, are you?"

Gale startles. They're walking again and Karlach has addressed him directly. "Me?" He points to himself.

When did the conversation end? Are they already heading for those paladins? He could've sworn it took longer to convince Wyll of her innocence.

"Yeah, you! You've been glaring at nothing for almost a full minute now!" She snorts a laugh.

"Ah, time must've slipped away from me." He makes a conscious effort to rid the scowl from his face. "This isn't typical behavior for me, I assure you. You see, there was a party last night and it seems I'd drinken a tad bit over my tolerance. But not to worry, I'll be back to my usual self in no time." He smiles at her, though, he wishes he didn't have to. Lying to any of his companions is a poor habit to start, least of all to Karlach. She's too kind of a soul for that.

The barbarian gives him another winning smile. "If you say so." She marches along, following Tav towards the buildings over the hill.

Gale lags behind once again. He doesn't fully register it when they arrive, nor as the confrontation starts all over again. The paladins' lies are uncovered and their forces are no match for the group of them. They are killed with little fanfare and once Karlach has completed her -rather impressive- frenzy around the old buildings, the team is ready to get back on track.

Tav stops them a little ways away, her brows furrowed as grey eyes pass over the four of them. "Our next course is for the Underdark. If we can face the conflict at Moonrise Towers, as Halsin said, then it could be the end of our Ghaik problem."

"Hold on," Gale tries not to roll his eyes as Astarion butts in. "Isn't that the way he said not to go? Because it's extremely dangerous and we're most likely to die?"

She tilts her head at the vampire. "I did not take you as one to shy away from danger."

Astarion has the nerve to look offended. "I'm not, Darling. But there's a clear difference between happening upon danger and inviting it with open arms!"

After nearly three hours of today's bickering, Gale has finally reached his limit. "Perhaps if you were a little less inept at the skill of thinking before spewing words, you might realize the Underdark harbors less danger in the long run. In fact, depending on the skill of our cartographers, it may be quicker as well!"

The vampire scowls at him. "Who pissed in your tea this morning?"

You! You blood-sucking-

"What do you know of the Underdark that Halsin did not?" Tav stops him before things can get much worse. "It appears the opposite when I look at my maps."

He's tired of keeping secrets and acting like he doesn't know anything. It's about damn time he's used his knowledge for something. "If you use the Mountain Pass to reach the Shadow Lands, you will be forced to follow a group of the Absolute's followers to the tower." He doesn't mention the githyanki creche. That will be a waste of time in the end. "The Underdark will spit us out in a place where we can potentially gain some allies. Harpers, I believe they called themselves."

"And how did you learn this, exactly?" Astarion questions, suspicion clear in his eyes.

"My...Goddess. She told me last night." He bites his tongue before he can tack on, 'while you were off fucking'. That would antagonize Tav as well and that's the last thing Gale wants at the moment. She has the power to deprive him of magical items or discard him from their party completely.

Astarion? Not so much. He can't even bite Gale.

"If you trust this information, then you will guide us," Tav tells him, then she nods Wyll. "Tell the others of our course. They'll need to prepare."

"Of course." Wyll returns the gesture less enthusiastically. Gale can guess it's the overhanging dread of having disobeyed one of his patron's orders.

Another issue that will eat up their time, but an unavoidable one.

Once Wyll has left back for camp, Tav deals a look to the rest of them. "Follow. We'll see if this region is as dangerous as the druid says."

---

The Underdark is just like Gale remembers.

There's a certain beauty to it all, strange creatures and toxic fumes aside. It's dark, as the name would suggest, but the illuminant flora and magical vegetation is downright radiant. This land harbors many a mystery, all of which even Gale is unaware of. He doubts any one person could answer every question the Underdark has to ask. It's an author's playground and Gale suddenly wonders if there's ever been a published volume of it yet.

It's a shame he won't live long enough to do it himself.

"Hells, this place is big." Karlach whistles. "You could get lost down here for ages."

"I don't suppose it would be too late to turn back?" Astarion is met with a glare. "A joke. Did they not have those in Waterdeep?"

"Oh, we certainly had jokes." Gale graces him with a false smile. "It's simply that we had an aptitude for telling the ones which are funny."

It's almost amusing, how Asatrion's face falls.

"Focus." Tav reminds them. "Be on your guard. This will not be a simple task and no one here dies due to negligence. Understood?"

After a chorus of agreements, they set out. Immediately, their skills are challenged by the creatures of the dark. Two minotaurs nearly wipe them out, then the fungus shows no mercy as it poisons them as they pass. It tests Gale's memory, forces him to remember only the spells he knows now and not those he will learn after they've escaped to the Shadow Lands.

Of course, a place such as this cares little for one's focus.

The ground shakes just as they're heading into the Myconid Colony. The rumbling worsens, then something large passes by from underneath them. It knocks Karlach onto her backside and Tav barely keeps herself upright at the disruption. Gale watches it go, disappearing into the darkness. His heart beats fast as he's reminded of one key element that slipped his mind.

There is a Bulette down here and it's prepared to attack at any moment.

"Ugh...what was that?" Karlach groans as she gets back to her feet.

"Bulette," Gale tells her. He hasn't stopped watching that path of dirt, ready for the exact second it decides to return. "It must not like us crossing into its territory. We must expect an ambush as we go forward."

"Perfect." Astarion sighs. "As if we didn't already have enough to worry about."

Must he always complain?

"Then we will be aware," Tav says. "We cannot afford to let that beast get the better of us. Now, onward."

She leads them into the colony, where they meet the native creatures of this land. Each Myconid they speak with seems to want something. It piles more and more requests onto Tav's plate and Gale can only hope that she picks what she fulfills carefully.

She doesn't, obviously. Why, after her focus on defeating the Goblin Camp, would he be right in assuming that she would show the same unwavering determination now?

They spend hours traversing the disorienting land of the Underdark but it brings them no closer to their goal. At some point, Gale has grown irritated with just about all of them. He needs to speak up. He needs to get them focused again.

They're on one of the lengths of land that acts as a sort of bridge. On both sides are nothing but void as far as the eye can see, the faint glow of fungus doing little to disrupt it. "Tav, if I might suggest something..."

She looks up from the map to meet his gaze. It's intimidating and Gale tries not to think of her rejection of him. "Speak."

"While I applaud your willingness to help these people, don't you think it would be in our best interest to...move quicker? There is a tower full of the Absolute's worst and we stand here doing nothing to stop them."

For a moment, Tav stares at him. Then, she closes the map and Gale worries he may get a proper tongue-lashing. "Why do you hurry? Do you know of something else?"

The question shouldn't be unexpected, but it is. Why is he in a hurry? All that awaits him in those towers is death. Death for all of them. Perhaps the root lies there. Is he rushing to end this do-over? Has he grown tired of living already, after Mystra has -possibly- given him another chance? Or maybe it's this lonely feeling that eats him alive from the inside. It's different from the orb, which physically pulls at him in greed. This feeling is entirely emotional and a simple magic item won't cure the anger that burns in his heart.

Gale doesn't get to answer. Everything shakes and dread washes over them like cold water. The ground opens up behind him and the Bulette emerges from its hole.

Purely by its size, anyone close is knocked back. Astarion shouts as he flies through the air, landing beside Gale and Tav. Karlach, who had strayed behind a few steps, rushes to come up to the Bulette's face. She's the first to hit it, her weapon blazing with fire as she slashes it again and again.

"By Vlaakith, you will die to my blade!" Tav runs forward and slashes the beast right across the eye.

It roars in pain from the assault. Short but powerful legs propel the Bulette forward, right towards Gale and Astarion. In only half a second, Gale casts Wall of Fire. It ignites in a blinding inferno.

The spell is powerful. More powerful than he has any ability to cast at the moment. Gale's knowledge alone allows the spell to manifest, but it takes everything in him not to pass out from it. His stomach lurches and he sees dark spots cross his vision. Legs go weak, blood slowly trickles from his nose; and if it weren't for his stubborn will, Gale would be on the floor. He can't afford to faint now. Not with a beast like this as their adversary.

"Watch out!" Karlach shouts. It's only then that the wizard realizes his spell has done little to stop the Bulette from barreling straight through to hit him. The beast's rough skin meets Gale's like a wall of brick, knocking him clean off his feet and into the air. He doesn't even have the energy to scream as he's thrown into the abyss.

Astarion does. He screams quite loudly as he too falls to his death. Gale barely has the mind to think in the few seconds he has left, but when he does, all he can wonder is why he has to die with Astarion of all people. Fate certainly has had its humor.

He only hopes Tav and the rest can defeat the Absolute without him.

Notes:

This is the end of Part 1! Updating will be the same, Sundays and Thursdays, but the tone will definitely change to something darker. I will give warnings before the chapters, so watch for those.

I also suggest you take a short break for some water and a snack!

Chapter 4: Part 2: Trapped

Notes:

As I warned before, this will have a much darker tone! This is dealing with slavery and a lot of dark emotions! Please watch for new tags!

Astarion screams as he falls faster and faster. The cliff he once stood on is now completely out of view, the darkness growing all around him until he is consumed. He can't think, can't do anything besides watch himself succumb to something that is entirely out of his control.

He won't die from this, Astarion already knows. He tried jumping from the tallest building he could access in Baldur's Gate and it did little more than cause hours of pain. A fall from this height won't kill him. But even still, his body's natural reaction is to scream and panic. It sends adrenaline coursing through his cold veins. It knows this will hurt.

The next thing Astarion knows, he's sinking in a body of water. It's freezing, enough for him to feel it sink deep into his core. He can't drown, but the idea of spending the rest of his days at the bottom of an underground lake isn't appealing. So, he tries to swim. His legs, by some miracle unknown to him, aren't broken beyond repair. He kicks his way toward the surface, the ice of the water only making things more difficult-

There, just a little ways away, is another body. Astarion immediately recognizes Gale, the damned wizard that nearly passed out from his own spell. He doesn't move, likely unconscious from the impact, or even the fall itself. Astarion has long forgotten how fragile a mortal being's body is, especially that of a human.

Astarion is about to just leave the arrogant fool to drown but then he considers. They're in the Underdark, a place Astarion has already seen to be a challenge to his skills. There are creatures larger than any bear or hog. That beast that ambushed them could rival the size of a baby dragon. His chances of survival would be better as a pair, as much as he doesn't want to admit it. The wizard may be near useless, but magic could be a powerful tool in a time like this.

And if he ever hopes to reconnect with Tav and the rest, he may need a good answer as to why the other didn't make it. One that couldn't be detected as a lie, at least.

So, Astarion swims towards Gale. Hooking both arms under the human's, he pushes them both toward the surface. It takes more effort, but he does eventually manage to breach through, his lungs expanding with air out of habit, rather than necessity. Gale doesn't gasp, which isn't a good sign, but there's little Astarion can do for it at the moment.

For a long while, Astarion struggles to keep them both floating. The large robe Gale wears seems to try and pull them down, so he discards it with some maneuvering. Then, Astarion tries to find any sign of land. There's nothing but darkness, and while his vision may be specially built to see through it, it doesn't help if there's nothing to really see. There are no islands or roots. All glowing mushrooms, that were the staple of the land above, are now completely gone. There is nothing at all but the sound of their splashing and the occasional drip of stalactites.

It's cold and only getting colder. Astarion grunts as he grows weary of constantly kicking his feet. A few more minutes and they'll both sink.

Again, the thought of just leaving the human to die enters Astarion's mind. He considers it longer this time. If he doesn't find land soon, then it'll all be for nothing. Astarion can't save dead weight, nor can a corpse repay a debt. Keeping Gale around is pointless and so far, has done nothing but eat up his precious energy.

Slowly, Astarion starts to let go of the wizard. He lets Gale slip, the water rising up to cross over his neck, his chin, and then pass over his lips.

Just before he can let go completely, something comes out of the horizon. It's a ship, by the barest definition of the word. Large spikes of wood -or what Astarion assumes is wood- shoot out on all ends. The back is a fan of those spikes, tied together by loose hanging rope. Three figures stand watch on the main body. They're too far to see clearly, but the shape is humanoid at least. They're taller than those dark dwarves and no fungal heads stand among them.

It comes closer as Astarion studies it, his grip now tightly wrapped around Gale. They have a chance yet. If he can just persuade these lovely creatures to drop them off somewhere close, then maybe they can find Tav again. They'll all reunite, Gale will be dead or alive, but it won't be Astarion's fault, and they can get back to where they were. It'll be as if this whole silly fall never happened.

All hopes die as Astarion realizes these are drow. They hold the same elvish features, but their skin is as grey as the darkness around them and their hair seems to shine in the dim light of their torches.

"Ah, you were right. They did land here." A female drow sneers down at them as the boat slows to a stop. She kneels over the side. "A good pair too. Looks like an elf and a human. Could be good for labor."

No. No, no, no! Astarion will not be going with these monsters! He would sooner swim his way back to Tav than get caught up in their slavery!

But Astarion has little choice when a net is thrown over. It tangles around his limps and even as he drops Gale, it's already too late for him to escape. His body is dragged aboard like a fish, the sharp spikes cutting into him as he's pulled.

Still trapped in the net, Astarion tries to cut his way out. He hacks at the ropes as quickly as his dagger will allow him. Damn it all, he won't be subject to another master! He's come this far from Cazador, he can't do it all again!

His protests are stopped by a well-aimed blow to the head. Astarion's body goes limp and he falls back against a now choking and sputtering Gale. His head throbs, his body still exhausted from swimming; and now, he watches as the drow raises her weapon, only to slam it against his head a second time.

---

Astarion blinks awake with a low moan. His head pounds, like someone is actively knocking against it. He tries to shake it away, but it only prompts the nausea to worsen.

His entire body aches. Bruises likely cover the plains of his pale skin, marking him with a mixture of purples and blues. One of his eyes stings badly when he blinks, but it's ignored in favor of the awkward angle his arms are held at. They're tied to his back, that much he can tell immediately. Astarion tries to tug them free, but it does little more than make his arms more sore.

Giving up on that idea, Astarion looks around him. The walls, ceiling, and floor are all made up of dark bricks covered in mildew and moss. To his left is a large, metal door with a barred-off window at the top. A prison cell, no doubt. And judging by the fact he's been reduced to only his camp clothes, Astarion can guess he doesn't have any lockpicking tools either.

Wonderful. Simply splendid.

He's going to fucking kill someone.

Movement behind him startles Astarion out of his observations. He pulls away as much as he can and maneuvers himself around using only his tied legs. When he turns, he sees Gale fall to his side with a dull thud. The man moves, but no sound escapes him.

"Hells, of course." Astarion sighs. He scoots himself to the far wall, where he can lean his back. "Out of all the people I've been imprisoned with, it had to be you?"

No response comes. It's odd, coming from a man who seemed to never shut up. "What? All out of your wizardly hubris?" Astarion tries for mocking, hoping to get something out of him this time. It's worked wonderfully in the past.

But, again, there is no response.

"Gale?" All mirth has left Astarion as he watches the wizard struggle to right himself. When he can't, the man settles for laying completely flat and turning to stare. He moves his mouth, but no sound leaves him.

He's been Silenced.

Oh, Astarion could laugh if it didn't spell doom for him as well. "Well, it seems you'll be of no use to me, then." He catches the narrowed look Gale gives him before Astarion's eyes are elsewhere. He scans the walls, looking for any cracks or wedges he may be able to pull a brick from. If someone's escaped here before, then there will be a sign of it. If not...well, he'll find his own way out, magic or not.

There is none that Astarion can see, so he moves closer to the door instead. It's older and if the hinges have rusted enough, he could try to brute force his way out. It would be painful and loud, but it's an option. Better than letting himself stay here for the end of all time beside a mute bastard.

The room has no bed aside from a pile of filthy straw. In one corner sits a single bucket but Astarion tries very desperately to ignore that in favor of the floor. There could be a flaw somewhere. Something Astarion can use. Any sign of dirt or a way to get underneath the bricks would be ideal. He'll dig his way out if he must.

Another thud catches his attention. Gale has managed to pull himself to his knees. He looks just as haggard as Astarion feels. His camp clothes are splotched with mud, making the usual purple seem more brown. His items are also gone, but that doesn't come as a surprise. Visible bruises stretch over his face, one nearly swelling his right eye completely closed. They must've knocked him out too, then, just to ensure he didn't wake up.

Even so, the poor sod looks determined to say something. Whatever it is, Astarion can barely pick up the words from the movement of his lips alone. He catches "need" and "Just". There are many more among them, so it's impossible to tell what he's saying.

"I can't understand you." Astarion deadpans. Gale closes his mouth and looks on in frustration. "Perhaps if you didn't use your entire vocabulary in each sentence, we could get somewhere?"

Gale speaks again, then he stops as if he had forgotten he can't be heard. After a deep breath, he tries again. This time, Astarion can pick up a few more words. "Can", "you", and "me".

Oh, this is just getting better and better. Now he's stuck playing games for his survival.

The sound of footsteps registers in Astarion's ears before it does Gale's. He turns toward the door, his eyes watching for whoever may appear. There's nowhere he can hide; and even if there was, there's little point if he isn't actually gone. He can't really do much with his arms and legs tied. And if he hears it right, then several people are coming down the hall.

He has no chance.

The door opens with the sound of metal on metal and a large figure stands in front of them. Another drow, Astarion realizes quickly.

"You think they're ready?" A female voice, different from the one before, asks. She steps into the doorway as well, just a few inches shy of the first figure.

"Just the elf for now. Baragn should be able to make good use of a leaner body."

The figure steps into the cell and if it weren't already, Astarion's blood would've gone cold. All humors dies as he tries to back away from the drow, to no avail. They come close enough to touch, large hands reaching for his arm, when Astarion bites down hard on the dark flesh.

The hand wrenches free with a pained cry. "Shit! The damn thing bit me!"

"Don't touch me!" Astarion snaps, his breaths coming out quicker and quicker as all of his senses narrow into survival. The blood is sweet on his tongue, but he doesn't get the chance to savor it before he's grabbed by the neck. "I'll kill-" His words are cut off as they squeeze the air from his throat.

He fights. Astarion kicks and jolts and tries to break free, but there's nothing he can do against those strong hands. They lift him up by his neck alone, another choke escaping him by the pressure alone. The figure utters a spell and purple magic falls over his frame, locking him in place. It's Hold Person, Astarion realizes. His limbs can't move despite the orders he screams at them. He can't even turn his head as he's dragged from the room.

Astarion hisses and screams, the only thing he can do anymore as they take him to who knows where for who knows what. All in one moment, he's back in Baldur's Gate, locked away in Cazador's palace. There is no escape, there is no trying. He will never be free.

They will break him over and over and there's nothing he can do to stop them.

---

There are thousands of them. Other species, mostly deep gnomes and duergar, but there are others too. Elves and humans and bugbears. Even a few kobolds make up all that is the drow's list of imprisoned slaves.

Astarion stands among them, another face in the sea. Like livestock, he's checked over and filed away to a specific building. They let him keep his clothes at the very least, but it means little when he's spoken of as an object.

The work Astarion sees is grueling. It's labor, not of the sexual variety either, but labor all the same. He soon realizes what the drow meant in their comment on his figure when he sees hundreds of other lean creatures fill a single hall. Many are other elves, like him. Or, as he was. They still have yet to figure out his true nature, but it won't be long. Not after the comments they made on his teeth.

They're digging not with shovels, but with their bare hands. Astarion can smell the mixture of blood and dirt and he grimaces at the way some of the elves' fingertips have gone blunt at the end. Together but not in union, they dig a hole twice the size of the cell he just left. They're pulling up handfuls of something Astarion can only guess at, each fistful stored in a large bucket to their side.

"Ah, another one." A strong voice calls as a stout drow comes walking towards Astarion and his captors. She looks him up and down, just as the other drow had, then nods in approval.

It makes Astarion sick.

"Good. And the other one?"

The drow from before answers. "We detected some powerful magic in its chest. Gulda will have to assess it before we can do anything more."

"A shame." Dark eyes look to Astarion again. Then, she casts her gaze toward the ever-expanding hall. "C35. You dig until I say stop, you hear me?"

Astarion can't respond. He can't think of a rebellious remark, not through the haze of dread that continues to build in his gut. He stares at her, feeling emptied of everything he is.

Cazador's voice echoes in his mind, ordering him to obey. He must obey, he must. Worse punishment will befall him if he doesn't.

"I'd watch this one if I were you. Bit me on our way here." They show her the mark, which gets waved off carelessly.

"I've had a number of rouges in my day. None have survived long." She means it as a threat directed toward Astarion. Again, he can't think of a single word to say. So, he stays silent. Blissfully submissive to her will. "Good." She smiles.

With a sharp shove, Astarion is escorted to a section of the hall, right beside a female elf with dark hair and a gaunt face. The Hold Person spell lifts, but even then, Astarion can't will himself to rebel. He has seen the hollow look in the other creatures' eyes. He knows that look all too well himself.

Astarion was a fool for thinking he could be free. He's simply been traded from one master to the other, tadpole all but forgotten now.

If anything, it would be a mercy to become a Mind Flayer.

Cazador's voice returns as Astarion digs his fingers into thick clay and muddy dirt. It taunts him, mocks his every movement as he digs and digs and digs, as glassy-eyed as the rest of them already. He was made to serve, to do as he's told.

For hours upon hours, Astarion stares ahead. He blinks and the dark palace interior fills his vision. Other spawn cower and grovel at their master's feet. No mercy is shown, not even when they've done as they were asked. No matter how many people Astarion seduces and brings to Cazador, it will never be enough.

Anger burns just below the surface of it all, like the sun rising. He hates himself for being taken. He hates the drow for making him submit so easily. He hates and hates but nothing sticks. He can't do anything with this hatred, this inferno that threatens to take over. There's nothing to point it at, to take it out on.

No, there is. Astarion hates Gale of Waterdeep for taking them into the Underdark. He hates Gale for being a fool. He hates Gale and if he ever sees the sorry wizard again, he'll show him just how far this hatred runs.

Chapter 5: Truce

Notes:

Warning for some sexual assault!

It must be days by the time Astarion is returned to his cell. Days of nothing but digging at rough soil and emptying his mind of everything else. Days of letting his anger build until he finally can meet the target.

Gale hasn't moved much since Astarion last saw him. The bastard is still tied up and silenced, and he stares ahead at the brick wall. His chest glows brightly, his supposed orb flaring up. But everything else, the bruises and mud, are the same.

They don't tie Astarion again. They simply close the metal door and lock it behind them.

Good. He'll want his hands for this.

In only a few steps, Astarion punches Gale straight in the jaw with his dirty, bloody hand. He doesn't even feel it in his numb fingers. So, he throws another, knocking the wizard onto his side with a painful-looking cry. Astarion climbs over him, his hands shaking as he grips the purple robe and shakes him.

"This is your fault!" Astarion's voice has gone rough, the sounds almost foreign as he speaks. "This is all your fault! You brought us down here! You knocked us off the bloody cliff! You useless piece of shit!"

He lets go and Gale falls helplessly. The fucker can't even shout as he's attacked. How pathetic. How weak.

"I'll kill you!" He screams, his voice cracking on each syllable. "I'll- I'll rip your head off! I'll tear you apart, limb from-" Astarion stops. Gale is breathing hard, judging from the way his chest heaves. The purple light flashes, then dims. Flashes and dims. It's hungry, Astarion realizes. Hungry for power. For magic.

Well, Astarion is hungry too, and only one of them can get what they want.

"You will regret this. I'll make you wish you weren't born." Astarion growls, his voice low as he crawls closer. His eyes lock on that lovely neck, the delicate skin just asking to be broken. His teeth ache for it, the taste of rich blood all he can think of now. Forget anger, forget promises of murder, Astarion wants to drink.

With both hands pinning the human to the floor, Astarion bites on whatever exposed neck he can get to. His teeth sink through so easily, his jaw latching as the blood finally pools out of the wounds. He can feel Gale try to move, the muscles jumping against Astarion's teeth. He ignores it all as he starts to suck it into his mouth, the rich flavor flooding onto his tongue and-

Astarion pulls away with a gag. He spits, but the acidic burn of his tongue doesn't go away. He stands, then, trying to rid himself of the awful taste. Another gag, then Astarion turns back to Gale, who's staring right back in silent shock. It's as if he's just remembered exactly what Astarion is.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Astarion snaps, spitting again. It doesn't help the lingering taste.

The damned wizard can't even sit up as he lays there, dripping from the neck and panting hard. Gale stares at him, then his eyes roll as his chest glows brighter.

It seems neither of them can have what they want, then.

"You...You deserve this." Astarion hisses. He backs into the far corner of their cell, his eyes glaring daggers at the struggling human. "You deserve to feel pain after what you did to me." The shadows overtake him as he finally sits. Gale writhes and struggles, his arms pulling desperately at his bindings. There's no use. He's not strong enough to break them- no one from their party could. He'll simply rub his skin raw, then suffering further.

Good.

He still aches to lap up the remaining blood. It's there, wasted on the filthy ground, but he knows he can't. A forbidden meal, one that smells so rich and sweet but tastes of bile and poison.

Truly, this must be Hell.

For hours, Astarion watches him. He can't fall into trance, not with someone else free to attack him and now with the motivation to do so. He may be the one untied, but Astarion knows that's an advantage he has to hold carefully.

Gale goes between panting hard, the glow of his chest growing dangerously bright, then writhing in attempts to do...something. It looks as if he's trying to break his wrists off, but if he is, the wizard is doing a piss poor job at it. The struggle would be entertaining if Astarion weren't forced to endure much worse once he's taken for his labor again. His stomach already fills with dread at the thought. More hours of endless digging and his body hasn't nearly recovered yet.

Just when Astarion is about to give into a short, light trance, Gale stops his movements again. Shakily, he rolls onto his front and climbs up to his knees. This is a new position and it immediately sets Astarion on alert. The vampire gathers his feet under him, just in case he has to spring up. He won't let such a pathetic human get the catch on him.

But Gale doesn't move any closer. Instead, he looks at Astarion in desperation. His eyes are wide and terrified as he mouths his words slowly. 'Help me,' he repeats over and over until Astarion frowns.

"Why should I help you?" He snarls. "Why in the hells should I offer you anything but death's cold touch!"

The threat is taken seriously, that much Astarion can tell through the way Gale cowers slightly, but he doesn't stop. The wizard speaks again, 'Help me! Help me, Astarion!'

He could laugh. The wizard is begging him now?

'Magic! Please, I need magic!'

Just as he suspected. Magic is required to keep that orb of his docile, but unfortunately for him, Astarion has passed the point of caring. They could all blow up and nothing would change. Gale has taken Astarion's chance at freedom, so why not take the drow with him? No one would miss them, surely.

But the wizard doesn't let up. He shifts around to where he's facing away from Astarion. Exposing one's back to a preditor is a poor call and Astarion nearly takes advantage of it when he sees the pair of cuffs wrapped around Gale's wrists. It's not rope as he had originally assumed. These are made of solid metal, each tightly holding the human's hands behind his back. The skin around them is rubbed raw and bloody in some areas.

It's not the cuffs themselves that catches Astarion's eye, however. No, what gets him is the red light coming from the chain between them. It glows so faintly he can barely see it while looking directly at them, but it's still there. A spell, no doubt. Magic, then. A magical item for Gale to consume and sate the orb before it detonates in, quite possibly, less than an hour, judging from how Gale hisses and whimpers soundlessly.

So, he wants Astarion to get those cuffs to his chest. Without lockpicking tools, it's not the easiest feat, but he has a few ideas. Some that could be very satisfying for the vampire, in the end.

But the question still stands. "Why would I help you?"

Gale turns back to him. 'I can't stop it! Please!' More begging, but no clear answers.

When Astarion doesn't move, doesn't let up to the pathetic display, Gale's eyes close. He breathes, then looks up again, something dangerous in those eyes of his. The desperation is still there, but there's an iron determination as well. He refuses to back down without a fight.

Good. It'll make killing him all the sweeter.

'I can get us out. Give me magic and you are free.'

"Ha!" Astarion scoffs. "Quite the promise to make." But even as he sneers and glares, something in his chest dares to...hope. Gale is a wizard and if he somehow formulated a plan in his time struggling, then maybe...maybe he's of better use alive. For now.

The hatred boils and screams for him to spill blood, but Astarion has always been better at keeping control of himself. He needed to if he wanted to survive Cazador.

"Fine, I'll bite. I get you those cuffs and you set me free. Is that our deal?" Gale nods quickly. "And...how about we sweeten the deal, hm? You also get me blood to feed on. And none of those senseless beasts. I want a thinking creature." He can already taste it, the wonderful tang of blood over his tongue. It'll be so, so sweet.

When Gale nods again, Astarion stands. He moves slowly, drawing out the pain as long as he can without risking their lives. But once he's knelt in front of the sore wrists, he's quick to decide on how he'll do this.

"Brace yourself," Astarion mutters, caring less about preparing him for the pain and more to avoid blowing them to bits. Then, he grips the edge of one human hand, just around the thumb, and snaps it inward. Gale jolts but there's little he can do while Astarion pulls one cuff over, officially freeing his hands from each other.

Impressively, Gale doesn't linger on his pain for long. He immediately presses the cuff to his chest and the orb shines as it takes in the magic held within. The wizard's eyes glow purple and his mouth is held open in a silent scream as it courses all around him.

Once the deed is done, Gale falls forward, cradling the broken thumb. This time, his tearless sobs can be heard and the sound is surprisingly delightful.

So, that must've been what kept him silent.

"Gods...By Mystra's light, that hurts!"

Astarion's smile falls. As fun as it was to break his hand, he certainly didn't miss the sound of Gale's voice.

Before the wizard can fully recover, Astarion is wrapping his lithe fingers around that broad, still dripping, neck. He squeezes the voice from Gale as he forces them to make eye contact. Fear returns in full force and oh, is it delicious. Astarion can't help the devilish smile that curls onto his lips. "Now, now. We have a deal, don't we? So tell me, what's your brilliant plan?" His hand lets up enough to allow airflow.

Gale gasps and sputters before he can find himself. "I-I can cast...Disguise Self! If I c-can remember it!"

That...would work. And it isn't altogether a horrible plan either.

"So, let me get this straight," He squeezes his hand again, just to avoid hearing more of the wizard's whimpering. "You intend to disguise us a drow, then we prance out of here as if nothing happened? I can't say I dislike it. And I assume we would simply wait until the drow return to escape? Or do you have plans to open that door?"

Gale winces, his voice hoarse when Astarion lets him speak again. He's starting to really enjoy this little game. "There's a slight...complication. I can only cast it upon myself and for the duration of an hour-"

"What?!"

"-But I could use it to our advantage! Perhaps they have an armory or a set of uniforms!"

"No! You're not leaving this cell without me!"

"Asar-"

Gale's hand feebly pulls at Astarion's wrist as he chokes. "No, you listen first! I'm leaving this place no matter what it costs! If you don't get me out, then I'll kill you now and use your corpse as a  bloody shield! Am I understood?!" Gale tries again, to escape. "Am I understood?!"

Gale manages to wrench himself out of the hold. He gasps and coughs, his good hand reaching up to rub at the bruises that will most definitely begin to form. Astarion lets him grovel, his interest lost.

"Be warned." He growls, making his way back to his corner again. There certainly won't be any time for a trance now. "If you so much as think of leaving me, I'll make sure you die slowly."

The wizard doesn't respond, but he doesn't have to. The threat is meant and they both know it.

Now, Astarion just has to find a way to disguise himself.

---

Astarion goes back after his four hours of rest. He barely gets any time in to close his eyes, which leaves him just as exhausted as the first time he came in.

His mind shuts off as he works alongside the rest of the lifeless bodies. Dirt and clay and mud, then mud and clay. Over and over with nothing in between. The occasional rock will scratch the skin from his fingers, but it's discarded with the rest. Each time, Astarion dreams of cutting Gale's stomach down the side and watching his life drain out.

A tap on his shoulder makes Astarion jolt. He turns, his ears picking up any sound at all, when he sees-

It's another elf. She looks at him with life, a burning intent in her eyes. It shocks Astarion enough to make him stop digging, which earns him a shock at his ankle, where they've attached a rune to keep them in line. He shakes it off, then goes back. She will go ignored-

Again, she taps at him. This time, however, she goes further than just tapping. She slides her hand over his hip and down his outer thigh. Astarion jumps away, his surprise bleeding quickly into anger. But before he can let out a word, her hand flies away and back to her work.

Normally, he would still shout, but he sees another spawn in her. Cazador is watching and he can't fall out of line, lest he be punished. So, Astarion swallows his disgust and continues his work. If she tries again, however, he can't promise he won't cut her open.

A buzzer sounds off and half of the room files into line. Astarion's side remains digging. He scowls at each of them, hating how he wishes he could be allowed a simple moment to rest. He almost regrets not getting a proper meal out of the wizard, but there's no helping it now. He'll have to wait his turn-

Again, he feels a touch on his leg. This time, Astarion grabs her wrist and stops it shy of his hip. She looks at him with the same expression, the silence near deafening. Then, she slips her hand into his and something solid drops into his palm.

She turns away and continues to dig. Astarion watches her for a moment, then looks into his hand.

It's a round item, cased with what feels like metal. It's covered in dirt and blood, but that's no surprise from down here.

Before Astarion can get another shock in the ankle, he pockets the item and continues his work. Whatever it is, he'll find out later. For now, he has to focus on staying in line. File in, stay silent, and nothing will happen.

Astarion, once again, turns his mind off.

---

He doesn't want to, but Astarion eventually has to go into trance. It's been too long since he's last rested and the strain of staying up so long has started to send shivers up and down his spine. He feels feverish, like an illness has taken him, but he knows that can't be the case. It's his exhaustion getting the better of him.

So, Astarion lies on his back and closes his eyes. He finally shuts his mind off enough to simply exist, all sounds and smells mixing together into nothingness. His body relaxes slowly, each muscle losing its tension. His chest rises and falls like the beat of a song, over and over at a slow pace. Everything feels clear.

He doesn't dream, thanks to his elvish traits, but he does experience something similar. At least, it is in Astarion's mind. He thinks of the past, a slideshow of memories. Usually, his mind will fill with the horrors done to him by Cazador or what he did to the victims he lured in for his master. On the very slight occasion, he'll see the first moments of his time as a vampire spawn, reliving his constant fear.

Tonight, he's given a rare mercy. Astarion sees his time with Tav, slaying Goblin after Goblin. It felt like being alive. He could kill so easily without a care in the world for what others may think or say. The secret was already out, of course. At least, it was for Tav. He had told her about his nature the night before and to his surprise, she welcomed him with only a slight hesitance. He could blame it on the fact she's not native to Faerûn, but it's more likely that she sees his bloodthirsty habits in herself. After all, she is a githyanki.

Lae'zel certainly didn't have any reservations about his fighting style, so to speak.

Of course, none of it matters if they never get out of-

Something latches onto Astarion's wrist, but before he can so much as open his eyes, someone is climbing on top of him. Astarion jerks awake in time to see Gale cuff his hands together, the metal bands locking with a zipping click. Then, warm hands press Astarion's shoulders firmly to the floor.

There's anger in Gale's eyes. Anger and fear.

"Get off of me!" Astarion hisses. He tries to buck the human off but his strength is all but spent. Instead, he attempts to squirm his way out of the hold, to no avail. "Get off now! Or I'll-"

"You'll what?" Gale seethes from atop him. In the dim light, it's near impossible to see the details of the man's face. All Astarion can catch is the twist of his lips and the furrow of his brow. "You'll bite me? Spill my blood and leave me to die, like you so threatened?"

Astarion tries to do just that, but he's unable to reach the hand on his shoulder. He's completely trapped.

"You know," Gale starts, his voice hoarse and breathy, "I once hoped to stand up for you. You can't help what you are, after all. No more than the moon can stop itself from setting every dawn. It's just the byproduct of what you were made to me."

Now, an underlying layer of contempt stains his tone. "But I see exactly what you are now. You're a mindless rodent that wants nothing but to manipulate for your own gain! You're a vampire, and that's what you will always be!"

"I'll kill you!" Astarion kicks at the floor in desperation. All attempts to get free are pointless, but he tries all the same. "I'll kill you for this!"

The hand on his left shoulder leaves and instead wraps itself around his mouth, clamping his jaw shut. He tries to bite, but Gale's grip is too tight. "You have no idea what's happening, do you?! This entire scheme is far bigger than any of you understand! But I know! Ooooh, by the gods do I know! You can't possibly dream of the weight that's been placed upon my shoulders but I bear it alone because I must! I serve because I must! But you- you could never think beyond yourself, Astarion! You could never- and I hate you for it! I hate you with every fiber of my being!"

They stare at each other. Astarion watches those deep brown eyes pour every ounce of hatred he feels directly into Astarion's soul. They both breathe quickly, in sharp heaves that hiss through their teeth.

But then, Gale's eyes soften. The burning inside of him simmers and slowly, ever so slowly, he lets go of Astarion's shoulders. The man climbs off of him and stumbles to his knees less than a foot away. His eyes shine as they keep eye contact.

"I...This isn't me." Gale breathes. "This isn't who I am. I-I'm not...gods, what have I become?" He shakes upon his new revelation.

Astarion stays frozen, like the prey he's been made to be. His hands are still cuffed together and now, there is no hope of getting any proper rest. Not after that.

"I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Astarion, I'm-" Gale swallows. His eyes catch on the cuffs, then he surges forward. "Allow me to-" He stops as something clatters to the side.

Held in Gale's fingers is the item the elf gave him. Astarion thinks of snapping at him to drop it, but he resists. The wizard is unstable. Even without the orb, pressure may prove dangerous. So, Astarion lets him fiddle with it, eventually popping it open to peer inside. He stares for a moment, then those dark eyes meet Astarion's again.

"You...Where did you..." He looks between them again. A smile slowly spreads across his distraught features. "This is exactly what we need. This- ha! Astarion!"

Astarion jumps when Gale leans down to show him. The round item is split into two; the top half holds a mirror, while the other holds a row of pigmented tiles. Makeup, Astarion realizes. It's a makeup set.

The darkest color, a deep purple-grey, has been used the most out of all of them.

"Astarion, this is perfect! If I cast Disguise Self and you paint yourself with this, then we'll pass completely as drow! We can simply walk out as if we were meant to be here this entire time! I...Mystra has blessed us this day. We're getting out."

There must be a catch to this. A pallet of makeup just handed off to him without fuss? And by another slave no less? Astarion has long learned that if something sounds too good to be true, then it likely is. It could be poisoned or a setup planned by the drow themselves. Something besides dumb luck or the help of any divine being, no matter the connections they may have thanks to Gale.

But even so, it's his only chance at survival. Astarion has to take it.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Let me-" Astarion jumps as Gale reaches for him, only to relax when a spell is casted to release the cuffs.

It's a stupid mistake. One Astarion won't let him get away with.

He sits up within the second and in the next, Astarion has Gale backed into the wall. There is no weapon, but the way he hunches his body over the other man's must be enough for now. "You-" Astarion spits, only to be interrupted.

"You cannot threaten me anymore, Astarion." Gale's moment of relief is gone. "We're on equal footing now. Neither of us wants to stay here, nor can we escape on our own. For the time being, we have to prioritize our survival over all else." He scoffs. "Believe me, I want to be rid of you as badly as you do me, but I won't risk my own life for it."

Astarion chews at his cheek. His fingers twitch with the urge to kill and maim.

"...Astarion?"

It will have to wait.

"Fuck!" Astarion backs away. His chest squeezes and his stomach still hungers, but he's no fool. He can do what it takes to survive, even if it means not killing Gale. "Fine! Fine. But as soon as we're free of these drow, you better pray Tav finds you before I do."

Gale, the damned bastard, offers up his good hand. "Truce?" To his credit, he looks at Astarion with apprehension.

Astarion takes it in a perhaps too-firm grip. "Truce. Now, let's get the fuck out of here, shall we?"

Chapter 6: Prison Escape

The plan is set. Astarion goes out for his last rotation digging clay, allowing him a chance to speak with the elf who gave him the makeup kit. Once he can ensure that she won't backstab them later on down the road, then Astarion will apply the makeup anywhere he must and they run for it. A rather simple plan, all things considered, but it isn't foolproof. A lot will ride on luck, but Astarion has always been good at improvising.

He just has to hope Gale can do the same.

Filing into his place, Astarion works just as hard as he always has, more an attempt to keep up appearances than anything else. The elf beside him does the same, her eyes glazed over and unfocused as she pulls up handful and handful of clay. For hours, he does nothing but work. His mind slips into autopilot on several occasions, but Astarion snaps himself back before he can lose too much time.

Once the supervisor has passed them by, Astarion turns to the other elf and speaks in as loud a whisper as he dares. "Why did you help me?" He asks, his eyes constantly searching for any scrying eyes or drow who may listen in.

She doesn't respond.

"Are you listening?" Astarion is about to ask again when her eyes flick to him. It's so quick, anyone else might've missed it. But not Astarion. "So you can hear, yes? Then tell me-"

He stops as the supervisor comes back. Once she's gone, he continues. "Tell me why you gave it to me."

The elf looks at him from the corner of her eye. They jump to the supervisor, then back to him. She opens her mouth for him to see inside. Astarion grimaces at the rot starting to cover her teeth, but what's more surprising is the lack of a proper tongue. All that sits there is a stump of a muscle that twitches and moves.

They cut her tongue out. She can't speak.

"I see..." Astarion looks away, his stomach turning. It's not the first time he's seen that, nor is it unexpected. But the idea of that happening to him? Of some drow cutting out the only thing he has left?

He can't wait to leave this place.

"Am I right to assume you've given up, then?"

It takes several minutes for her to respond. With one, muddy finger, the elf writes 'second shift' into the dirt. Once Astarion has acknowledged that he's read it, she swipes it away with a wave of her hand.

"Secon-"

"Sh!"

Astarion shuts his mouth with a click of his teeth. Alright, then it's something important. He'll hold onto it, but it may mean nothing in terms of his escape. In fact, he may not even see whatever-

Wait. Second shift. That's a time stamp; or as good of one as they can get without a sun that sets and rises. Second shift means something is planned to happen and if Astarion is correct, then he won't have much time to make his own escape before the entire building falls into chaos.

He'll need to inform Gale, then they have to run. They've only accounted for their own way out, not the rest of this facility. If she's really a part of a mass breakout, that could be worse than tightened security. It'll make all routine stop and drow will be crawling all over the building, as well as outside of it. Anywhere they try to run to may be expecting new arrivals to be slaves.

This isn't good, but there's not enough time for Astarion to stop them. He doubts he could even postpone it. Everything is still too new to him, too unfamiliar. If this were Cazador's palace, he could easily take advantage of such a situation. He knows how his master would respond and how to play off of that. Here? Astarion hasn't the slightest clue.

He works the rest of the day in silence, formulating as quick of a route as he can with what little of the building he's seen. There's a control room near the digging site. Perhaps he could get a map from there and find wherever they keep the prisoner's belongings.

If they keep them. Astarion may be out several lockpicks and his entire bag of gold. The daggers will be missed, but not irreplaceable.

He did want that armor, however.

Eventually, the time comes for Astarion to return to his cell. He goes willingly, like the good servant he is. The guards are no less rough, but at least he has the option to walk for himself instead of being dragged about with that Hold Person spell. It saves him the smallest sliver of dignity that he can afford.

Only after the thick, metal door slams shut does Astarion realize Gale is nowhere to be found. He waits, hoping it may be an invisibility spell or something similar, but after a minute or two, no voice comes to greet him.

"Gale?" Astarion calls. He sees nothing in the shadows of a play of the light. Astarion searches and as evidence or the human continues to evade him, his hunt becomes desperate. Straw flies across the small room as he looks for any sign of the man. There's nowhere to hide, and even if there was, Astarion would've found it by now.

He's gone.

"Damn you, Wizard!" Astarion shouts. His own voice echoes back. "A truce, he said! Yes, yes a truce, just for him to run off with my freedom! I swear, once I find him-"

There, buried within the pile of straw, is the makeup kit. Gale must've...hid it there. For Astarion.

Grabbing it off the floor, the vampire sits in the only ray of light given to him, and he starts applying the darkest color of grey. He does his face first, then his hands. Anything after that may be covered up in a uniform or costume. He applies more and more of it over his face until there's nothing left to use. Without a way to see himself, Astarion hopes dearly that it looks convincing. If this doesn't work, if he's wasted this last chance due to his poor artistic skills, then...well, he'll just have to fight his way out. It'll be bloody and he may not succeed, but Astarion has faced worse odds before.

A lie he will continue to believe.

The stage is set. Astarion hunches down in his corner, ears poised for any sounds outside the door. With Gale gone, he can no longer use his wonderful Knock spell to simply unlock the door. So, he wastes more time and waits for his second shift. If he leaves everything behind, gold and weapons alike, then Astarion should be able to escape before everything takes a turn.

He waits. Footsteps move past, prisoners and slaves alike are escorted by, but no one stops at his door. Astarion's legs ache from the strain he puts on them, crouched low as he is, but he can't relax. Not when someone could burst in. He needs to be ready. Worse strain has been put on him from Cazador's hands. He will survive some muscle fatigue for this.

There, Astarion hears it. There's something about the way each step echoes, how the keys jingle just so, that tells Astarion it's time. He braces for it, his hands wrapped around his only weapon- the bucket.

After the twist of a lock and the scrape of rusted hinges, Astarion throws the bucket at the first figure that steps in and it shatters into splinters. They imbed themselves into the drow's skin, large pieces sticking out from all angles. Astarion pounces on the second, his hands quick to squeeze the life from a gasping drow. She tries to call for help, but he's quick to sink his fingers into her flesh, blood pooling around them.

It's too much. All at once, Astarion's hunger overpowers him and he sinks down to drink. The blood is rich and delicious as he sucks it down his throat, each pass over his tongue like the greatest climax he's ever had. Astarion moans as he drinks the woman dry, every last drop going directly into his stopped veins. It drips down his chin and stains his white shirt, but a clever tongue is quick to lap even that up as well.

Astarion is full and stronger than he's been in a long, long while.

Like the rush after a good whiskey, Astarion feels pinpricks all along his skin. His hair stands on end and his limbs move before he tells them to, a testament to how far he went without a full drink. He rounds on the second drow, his bloodied hands now reaching out for a second kill. But they're already dead, their body unmoving from the very first blow. It must be the shard lodged into their skull.

Now, with two dead guards, Astarion has been given the gift of an open cell and a uniform to steal. He takes the second drow's, the fit of it being slightly slimmer and most likely to match his body. Astarion takes great care in remembering how each armor piece is supposed to be oriented and where each clasp connects to. If he wants to fit in, he'll have to look the same as everyone else.

Then, once both bodies are shoved into the dark, Astarion snatches the keys -as well as the sickle beside it- and locks the door behind him. He starts down the hall, adrenaline still coursing through him as he listens to every sound that comes his way.

He jumps at the drip of blood from his chin. Right. His face is entirely covered in the sweet liquid. If he wipes it off, it could remove his makeup as well, but he can't just leave it there. Can he?

Looking down at the stains that extend to his uniform, an idea forms. Astarion reaches up with one hand and smears the crimson liquid across his mouth and up toward his nose. There, now it should appear as if he's been in a scuffle of some kind. And if he hunches just so...

Astarion makes the perfect image of an injured guard. With his act in place, he stumbles down the hall with groans and gasps.

It doesn't take long for another guard to see him. And once he does, Astarion is quick to speak first, his best accent rolling off of his tongue. "They have a dagger! Cell 419! Hurry!"

"A dagger?! How in Lolth's name did they get a dagger?!"

"We don't have time, Calolil!" The second drow nods to Astarion, her face severe. "You, report in to the warden!" With that, the pair turn to leave. Astarion follows them a step, then he slits both throats with nothing more than a twist of his wrist. They choke as they fall, blood spurting from the wounds much faster than should be possible. He almost wants to bottle up each drop of it, but it would waste much-needed time.

Astarion unlocks the nearest cell, then he gathers the limp bodies into his arms and throws them inside. The prisoner, a thin duergar, cries out in surprise. They lock eyes and the fear is simply delightful. He contemplates locking the door away, just to avoid any unnecessary chaos, but something pulls at him to let it be. This revolt will be starting soon and one extra duergar won't change anything in the long run.

He continues down the path. No other drow cross him as he enters the main level, where every facility is accessible. They would bring him to the right, into the clay sections, but before him are far more than just those sites. Mining and shewing and rope twisting. So many crafts, all filled to the brim with slaves. This city must thrive off of it. Days of free labor from bodies who can be so easily replaced with more. There's a reason few like the drow who wind up on the surface, no matter their true intentions.

There, above the catwalks, is a room where the guards gather. Entering would be dangerous, but it's Astarion's best hope for escape. The drow are smarter than to set any exit in view of the slaves. They would hide it, possibly even make only one that passes through their main base of operations. The lights are brighter up there, but Astarion currently looks like he's been gutted. Hopefully, the infirmary is close by and he can make an excuse to get past.

If not, then he'll find another way.

So, Astarion starts up the stairs. As soon as he's seen by the drow guards, they blink in surprise at his appearance and rush to his side. Astarion tries to keep them from touching him. "I'm fine! Lolth damned duergar got a good lick in, though." He sniffs his nose with a wince, making a show of his pain.

"Hells, that's more than a good lick!" They don't seem overly concerned, thankfully. More shocked than anything. Good. "Well, get with Ulviry to look at you. You may be out a working nose for the next two weeks."

"Gods, I hope not." Astarion shoves past them and into the checkpoint tower. These drow have similar reactions, but they too are easily dissuaded from further investigation. He passes them by quickly his eyes set on the catwalk in front of him. He can see the office from here, as well as the passage that leads into the next area. Just as he suspected, it's tucked away from all of the facilities. No slaves can get in, not without passing along here first.

He's close. He's very close.

Astarion makes it to the door itself, his hand gripping the handles, when it happens. It starts as the whirring of a strained engine. Then, a burst of flames shakes the entire building. Astarion is knocked off his feet as heat radiates from the mining site. Smoke quickly billows from the doors and after that come the duergar.

It doesn't take long for chaos to break loose. First, the duergar meet each drow guard head-on, their pickaxes and drills working as excellent weapons against their oppressors. Then, the other sites follow. Hundreds of slaves flood into the main floor, all of them shouting and screaming as they take out whatever drow are nearby.

Astarion has run out of time. Sirens blare as he climbs to his feet and runs for the office. The drow inside are rushing to their windows, their weapons already drawn. He slips by without notice as he pushes into the next hall, where the infirmary and weapons closet lie. He goes to the former first, his eyes set on any healing potions or ales that could keep him going. A vile of blood, perhaps, if he's lucky.

"What's going on?!" The nurses rush for him. There are no patients at the moment, which gives Astarion a perfect opportunity to end both with a stab in the chest. They fall with a gasp and Astarion steps over them to the shelves of supplies. Painkillers would be helpful. A few bandages, just in case, and a sedation syringe. There is no blood that Astarion can see, but he also doesn't have much time to look. Not when a second explosion rocks the very floor he stands on.

Next is the weapons closet. Several drow spill from the room, all armed with various weapons that could take down a good number of those slaves, but they pay Astarion no mind. He easily files in behind them, stepping into the now empty room. Few weapons remain, but Astarion doesn't need the greatest they have to offer. Two easily hidden daggers and a crossbow will do him fine. With a quiver full of arrows, Astarion fleets for the exit.

The halls wind and twist. Identical rooms line either side of each wall, but none have any significance to him. He tries to open a few, only to find nothing but bunks within. This must be the barracks, then? Not the place he wants to be, that's for certain.

Another corner and a long hallway later, Astarion finds himself in front of a large pair of doors. They're heavily reinforced, that much he can see. A large wheel sits at the front of each door, showing that there must be some kind of heavy seal to them. But whether it's there to keep something in or others out, Astarion doesn't know. He looks around it, trying for some kind of panel or switch. He doubts he's strong enough to simply open them on his own, not with a wheel that large.

A third explosion makes Astarion stumble. It feels closer, somehow. Astarion steps toward the doors, his hand reaching up to give a try at the wheel when a drow exits the room directly to his right. He tenses, eyes immediately glued to the backs in his hand, as well as the shortsword at his hip. He stops upon seeing Astarion, his gaze different from the rest of the drow. This one doesn't see him as their own.

Well, he supposes someone had to catch on eventually. Astarion plants himself as he pulls the crossbow from off his shoulders, his hands already set to aim directly between red eyes.

"Wait, wait! It's me!"

Astarion's arms lower. "Gale?! Where the bloody hells have you been?!" The disguise is good, Astarion will give him that. The wizard's once square face is now slim and set into a naturally peeved expression. His hair flows long over his shoulders, a portion of it covers the right half of his face as well. His ears point out as Astarion's do, so unlike the blunt edges of a human's ears.

But the voice is the same. It's eerie to hear, coming from another person.

"Nevermind me, why are you covered in-" Gale stops, his eyes narrowing as he takes in all of Astarion. "You drank from someone, didn't you. At a time like this, when our every action could tip the balance of freedom and further incarceration?"

"I needed energy!" Astarion says, exasperated. Then, he forces the defensive rebukes down. For now. "We don't have time for this! A revolt has started and if we don't get out of this damned place soon, we'll be caught up in it all!"

"A revolt?! Is that what those tremors were?"

"Yes! And I would've told you all about it had you stayed in your cell like we planned!" Astarion snaps. He likely looks a mess, covered in makeup, blood, and sweat. But it doesn't matter. Not this close to victory. "Now, will you help me open these doors or do I have to leave you here?"

Gale gives him a look, but it disappears as he too assesses the door. "It looks to be a simple wheel lock. I saw it before and expected any way to open it automatically would lie behind that door." He gestures to the room he just stepped out of. "No such luck, I'm afraid. However, I did find these," Gale hands over one of the packs and Astarion is surprised to find some of his tools and clothes inside. It's not everything he had, but a fair enough amount for him to be satisfied.

However, lockpicking tools won't work here.

"Can't you just open it with your spell?" Astarion asks. That was the plan before, to open their cell using Knock.

"I can't guarantee the other side isn't crawling with drow." Gale frowns. "It could give us away immediately. And should they also have well-learned mages-"

Another explosion. This time, just beyond the metal barrier before them. Chaos spills into the room, the sound of shouting and weapons clashing filling through even the heavy seals of the doors. It seems their questions have already been answered.

"Mystra's eyelids, can nothing go according to plan?!" Gale throws his pack over his shoulder, then he extends his hands out to cast his spell. Once the incantation has left his lips, the door lights up with a glow of magic, then it unlocks itself. Once the doors swing open, the sound rises tenfold. Astarion's sensitive ears ring from the sheer volume, but he presses on. Elves, bugbear, and duergar clash against the few drow left unawares. They move like a single unit of bloodlust, the thunder of their voices carrying them through the room. Astarion is quickly swept away with them, but a hand holds fast onto him. It's Gale's, he knows, and the instinct to shove it aside in disgust is certainly present, but he ignores it for now.

Astarion dodges slashing blows and thrown bottles from the mob of angry slaves. To them, he is another drow to be killed, and never before has Astarion been so overwhelmed. He races ahead of the mob, his legs taking him just a few steps ahead. Gale is at his side, panting and huffing as they sprint for their very lives. The people who once posed nothing but a passive threat are now their next aggressors. Hands reach out for them, the intent to tear him limb from limb very present in their burning eyes.

The exit is just ahead. Astarion can see where this facility ends and the drow city begins. The gate is wide open, welcoming them to their freedom. Astarion powers ahead, his limbs pumping harder and harder. He's so close. Just a few steps-

Something takes ahold of Astarion's leg and drags him back. He stumbles but stays on his feet. Turning, Astarion meets the eyes of the duergar he saw before when he stashed the drow bodies away. Understanding meets the duergar's face and in an instant, Astarion is released. "You..." Their voice is washed out by the raging of footsteps surrounding them, but Astarion can read the words on their lips well enough. There is a thankfulness he doesn't deserve, a relief no one should have in him.

"They're with us!" The duergar shouts to those close enough to hear. Hands withdraw and instead of running at Astarion, the crowd runs with him. He is one of them now.

He isn't, not really, but they don't need to know that. They'll never learn the truth about him or what he is. He will live on as nothing but a memory.

"Astarion!" Gale shouts and he turns back just as the gates start to shut. They're far still, far enough that Astarion worries he may not make it. He tries to push himself to go faster, but he's already at his limit. Any further and he'd risk tripping over himself.

A new chorus of voices join from behind and Astarion knows they must be what's left of the drow guards. Bursts of fire and lightning erupt from points within the mob, bodies flying across the massive room like debris. The mages have arrived.

The gates lower quickly. Astarion reaches out with one hand as if it will stop them in their tracks. He has to make it. It doesn't matter what happens, just let him get out. He can't come this far to victory only to lose everything.

War cries echo across the room. Screams of the duergar language or elvish words of hope mix together into nonsensical courage.

But it does little as the gate lowers, nearly touching ground. Astarion is close enough that, should he miss his opportunity to slip underneath, he would have to slow down. But he can't. That single drop of hope carries him faster, even as his legs begin to weaken.

A spell falls from Gale's lips and in an instant, Astarion is lifted from his place ahead of the mob. He blinks and the gate is gone. The facility walls have disappeared, falling a few steps behind him as he continues to run. Turning, Astarion watches as the gate locks shut just in front of the mob. They stop at the bars, their cries turning into that of mourning rather than hope. They have lost, but Astarion did not. He made it, thanks to Gale's spell.

They will be the only ones to survive this.

Among them, Astarion sees the tongueless elf. Tears roll down her face as the rest of the slaves are picked off by the mage's spells. So much work, just to be stopped at the very end. Possibly months of planning and secrets, gone.

And yet, Astarion has survived thanks to her sacrifice; that single makeup kit being the very thing that granted him this victory.

A gift he cannot repay. But one he can remember.

Notes:

Now, onto part three in the next chapter! I cannot explain how excited I am for that part!

Chapter 7: Part 3: Running

Notes:

I listened to the Puss In Boot soundtrack while writing the second half, just so you know.

Gale still can't fully believe they made it out. A part of him is remains in that prison cell, alone. For days, he spent his time staring at nothing, thinking of nothing. It made the year locked away in his tower seem like a summer's respite. He had no books, no comfortable bed, and no Tara to keep him company.

Instead, he was gifted the gnarled package that is Astarion. His neck still stings from the puncture wounds forced upon him when Gale was at his weakest. The feeling of getting pinned down, defenseless against the pain that overtook him, is that of nightmares. He understands, logically, that Astarion had been starved as much as Gale had. He knows that it was an irrational decision made out of anger and the need for power when he has none. But even still, Gale doubts he'll be able to see Astarion the same anymore.

Knowing him to be a vampire who, in only one instance, drew blood without consent is one thing. To have it thrown in his face and imprinted on his neck is entirely different.

That, paired with the exhaustion that comes with a prison break of that magnitude, has completely deprived Gale of his energy.

They stand now in Menzoberranzan, the city of the drow. Well, in a back alley of the city, more like. It was the only cover they could find for Astarion to clean the blood from his face and reapply his makeup. Gale had to use a portion of what little money they had left for the new makeup kit and he has yet to receive any thanks at all. Not that he was really expecting one from someone so vain. Still, he would've welcomed some disruption to the usual.

"Alright, how do I look?" Astarion angles his face in various directions, giving Gale a full view of his makeup job. "Am I drow enough?"

As deserved as it would be to allow Astarion to get caught, Gale's survival also depends on them going unnoticed. So, he takes his time in examining the handiwork. When he sees a spot with thinner makeup than the rest, Gale reaches out to apply more. He ignores how Astarion flinches away from his touch. "There. Perfectly even."

"Good." Astarion guides them out of the alley and into the main street. Before them sits a nice-looking tavern they agreed to stay at for the night, should they have the money for it.

The smell of foreign beverages hits Gale all at once. The tavern itself is homey enough, laughter filling the air around them as they step in. The natural candlelight casts a warm, orange hue against the dining area. Most of the patrons are those looking for a drink and a good meal. Unlike the taverns in Waterdeep, the floor and walls are all made of stone, their surfaces carved with designs to resemble the rest of the buildings in the city. They hold a certain history to them, Gale is sure, but one he sadly knows less about than he would like.

At the back of the diner sits a bar where a larger drow stands as he mixes various drinks. He's a bigger drow, his long hair tied back in a bun at the base of his skull. His hands work quickly to mix drinks together and serve them to the happy customers. He has a similar air about him as Halsin but with less of the druid ideology and earthy musk.

Astarion has a sway to his step as he walks toward the bar. "Why, hello, Darling! You wouldn't happen to be the owner of this fine establishment, would you?"

The barkeep smiles brightly as he turns to them. "I would indeed. Now you tell me: are you looking for a room or a drink?" His under-surface accent is thick, almost leaning into dwarvish with a subtle roll of his 'R's. 

"We would like a room, if you have any available still. A place this popular, I fear we may be too late." Astarion throws an overly crestfallen look to Gale. He's given no response, mostly because Gale hasn't a clue as to what role they're playing. Astarion turns back with an eye roll hidden from all but the human. "Preferably something more...private?"

"Of course!" The drow pulls out a large book and flips through, rows and rows of room keys held within. After some searching, he stops at one and plucks the key from inside. "This one may be perfect. A nice room on the third floor, a balcony view of the city, and a single bed. Very good room."

Gale pauses. "One bed?"

The barkeep looks between them. "Are you not a couple?"

Before Gale can speak, Astarion is pulling him close. Their hips knock together and Astarion lays his cold hands over Gale's chest, the very tips digging in slightly. "Of course! We're on our honeymoon, in fact! Menzobarranzan is especially beautiful this time of year!" Astarion smiles ever so brightly.

Gale's heart beats fast. He wants to pull away and berate the vampire for pulling him into this sick act, but he can't. Not when he's already a part of it all. So, he tries the next best thing to get Astarion off of him. "You said you wouldn't do this in public, my love." He keeps his voice just loud enough for the barkeep to hear.

Astarion lets go of him, finally. "Sorry, sorry. You know you get me excited." A downright filthy look is thrown toward him before all focus has returned ahead. Gale swallows down his urge to grimace.

"Congratulations! This room will certainly serve you well. If I could get your names and your payment, the room is all yours."

Names? He didn't think of a name to use, but he certainly can't use his own. Gale of Waterdeep may not be famous among the drow, but it could be traced back to him.

"Sebastian. Sebastian Ancunín." Astarion answers almost immediately. "And this is my wonderful husband..." 

Shit! Now he really needs a fake name.

"Tara-nce!" Gale says quickly. "Tarance! A lovely name, my mother always said. Means 'smooth', I believe. And- well, I would consider myself a smooth individual; though, not likely in the ways she intended. Smooth enough to capture a handsome beast such as Sebastian, yes? It seemed as if the lines of fair bachelors stretched across time itself, just to have a chance at winning his heart. To think, I'm the lucky fool who managed to enrapture-" Astarion gives him a look. "Ah, but I digress. Thank you, kind sir, for your hospitality. It will be greatly appreciated."

"I understand the sentiment. Enjoy yourselves, now." Astarion hands over their gold and takes the offered key. Gathering their packs, the pair of them make their way up the stairs and to the third floor, where their room awaits. The sound of the tavern fades into nothing more than a whisper. It's a far cry from where they just were not a full hour ago. A welcome change in pace.

"A bit pricey," Astarion grumbles. "They better hand-feed us cheeses and wine for that much gold."

"Perhaps they'll be willing to offer their necks to you as well," Gale comments, not mocking at all.

The look Astarion gives him is void of any false affection. It's somehow less unsettling.

As soon as they've gathered into the room, Gale can see why it cost so much. Hand-crafted candles sit atop shelves lining either wall and an array of luminescent stones line the frame of the single, large bed. A tray of wine and fruit sits on a round table placed off in the corner, two crystal glasses included. The sheets themselves are a deep red against white with golden accents along the trips of the pillowcases. Alluring pictures have been embroidered along the trim of the blankets, their images tying together the entire look of the room.

It is entirely and completely romantic.

"Oh." Is Gale's response.

His disguise falls and once again, he stands in his filthy camp robes. His very presence in the room is like a drop of blood against snow, his stench already beginning to taint the walls themselves.

"Gods, it's so...ugh." Astarion walks carefully through the room, as if the very touch of anything romantic could burn him quicker than sunlight. He goes about setting their things down on a vacant chair, then he turns to Gale. "Alright, here's the plan. You shower while I get us some proper room service. Then, while I shower, you'll get rid of all...this." He gestures vaguely to the entire room. "And we'll figure out sleeping arrangements after. Is that agreeable?"

Instead of gracing him with a verbal response, Gale walks into the bathroom and slams the door shut.

Now that he's allowed himself, Gale feels the aches and pains of the past...however long it's been. His robes peel off of him like a second skin and once dropped on the floor, they leave a splotch of dirt in their wake. But hot water has never felt better as Gale settles under the spray. The water bleeds red and brown as it rolls off of him and down the drain, a testament to how filthy he really is.

It's a marvel, really, how Menzoberranzan's water system works. Their only water supply comes from the lakes surrounding the city created by the constant recycling of water along the cave walls. It evaporates, collects on the stalactites, then drips back down into their collectors. Unless the cave were to fall in or a hole opens under the lake, the drow would never really run out of water.

And now, they've created a system through the city that allows their collects to distribute it in streams like the one that runs over Gale now. He saw the massive water mills as they entered the city borders and he can confidently say it was a sight to behold. The drow have certainly made a life for themselves with what resources they were given. Not a tree in sight and yet they've created homes for tens of thousands of lives.

It's just a shame over half of them are slaves.

It takes effort not to fall asleep under the hot downpour, but Gale manages to finish his washing fairly quickly. He forgoes his old clothes for a bathrobe hung by the towels, its soft texture gentle on his bruised and battered skin. The worst of it lies at his wrists and hand, but large splotches of purple cover almost every one of his aching joints. The bruising on his thumb has nearly encased the entire digit, the now slightly mended bone still unmoveable and sensitive to the touch.

He should've known better than to let Astarion help him, but it's not as if he had much choice. Gale spent hours trying to undo his cuffs and take the magic within them, but it left him with plenty of sores and no success.

Running a towel over his hair, Gale exits the bathroom. His relaxed shoulders tense again as he's reminded that he isn't alone and his current company may try to kill him. Turning slowly, Gale peeks into the room to see Astarion gathering up everything that could be romantic and tossing it into the trash. A waste of good materials, but Gale doesn't stop him. It's not like he'd rather it stayed up for the night.

"You said I would do that part." Gale points out dully.

Astarion throws away the last of the royal blue pedals with a frown. "Yes, well I simply couldn't stand being around it anymore. Besides, if you're the one who needs food, you should have to get it yourself. I worked for my meal, so it's only fair."

Wonderful. "And what do I do when the server arrives? You're the one who still looks like a drow."

A cheeky smile spreads across Astarion's face. "You have spells, don't you?"

"...Charming." Gale has no idea why Tav fell for someone so condescending.

Oh, right. Tav. In all truthfulness, Gale...isn't sure how he feels about her. The hurt from her rejection doesn't seem to have lingered past the imprisonment and fear of torture. He still longs for touch, for someone he can trust, but she isn't who he thinks of when he wishes for better company. He thinks of Shadowheart's steadiness, or Lae'zel's brazen thinking. He imagines Wyll or Karlach and how they might respond to this very situation.

What are they doing now, without them? Did they stop to look? Or did Tav order them to move along, accepting both of their deaths as a price paid for their goal? Gale dreads the answer, but he's not quite sure which option is worse.

He's...too tired for that train of thought.

A quick meal from room service -which Gale instructs the maid to leave at the door, no he'll grab it once he's ready, thank you- and a half-glass of wine clear any unwanted thoughts from Gale's mind. He savors the taste of drow cuisine and the luxuries a tavern this nice can offer. It's been too long since he's been somewhere so lavish for the night. All that's missing is a nice breeze and a good book from his private collection, but he can have neither at the moment. The drapes have been pulled shut and the only literature Gale can see is an advertisement for skin cream.

Gale covers a wide yawn as he stumbles towards the bed, sleep already calling for him as he moves. He should check for escape routes, he knows, but the sheets are so soft and the feeling of silk on freshly washed skin has always been one of Gale's favorites. He curls up on his side, wet hair spread across his pillow. With Astarion in the bathroom, he can relax again.

"Move over." Gale startles awake. He doesn't remember falling asleep.

Astarion scowls down at him, all makeup now gone from his face. Once again, he is as pale as the moon.

Gale is quick to sit up, his heart pumping fast. "I wasn't sleeping." His voice rumbles in his chest, just above a whisper. Astarion gives him an 'I don't believe you' look, then he settles down on the opposite side of the bed. He lets out a long sigh and turns on his side to face Gale, something dangerous in his eyes.

"So, about that truce of ours..."

Gale narrows his eyes. "We still aren't safe, if that's what you're wondering. We can't stay in this city for much longer and leaving it won't be an easy task either."

"As much as I hate it," Astarion grumbles, "I have to agree. So, why don't we extend it until we leave the Underdark? It'll be a motivator to work quickly."

"Until we escape the Underdark." They shake hands and Astarion reaches up to dim the lights, but Gale stops him. "How can I trust you won't go back on your word while we sleep?"

Astarion smiles and it only makes Gale less convinced. "I haven't yet, have I?"

"I haven't fallen asleep around you since we made the truce." Gale points out. The vampire shrugs nonchalantly. "I need to know you won't attack me beyond your word. We both know it means very little."

He has the nerve to look offended. "My word is valid! Depending on who I'm promising to." A pause, then Astarion sighs. "Fine. How can I prove it? I'm not sleeping in the bathroom."

Gale thinks for a moment, his mind raking for anything that could fully convince him Astarion is telling the truth. "We could...hold hands." He gets another look and Gale quickly explains. "I'll feel it if you pull away. It gives me some time to react, at least."

"I am not holding your hand while you sleep." Astarion deadpans. "I have to hold my trance for four hours and you sleep for eight! What am I supposed to do with that time? Just lay here? Absolutely not!"

Gale goes quiet. What could they do? They have no cuffs and he already knows Astarion won't agree to Hold Person. So, what will it be? What could ensure Gale's safety to the degree he needs-

Again, Astarion sighs. "Will you settle for a pillow wall?"

He...he could. It wouldn't be much, not what Gale would consider a good idea, but he's exhausted and it's better than nothing. Or the bathroom.

"A pillow wall will do."

Astarion pulls out an extra pillow from the stack he made by the bed and sets up two right between them. It's, again, not much, but it puts Gale at ease. It's one barrier between them and one extra obstacle for Astarion to traverse before those pale fingers can wrap around his neck again.

This time, when the vampire goes to turn the lights off, Gale doesn't stop him. Instead, he settles into the warm sheets and lets his eyes close. His head pounds with the knowledge of all that's happened, one greater than it was before, but he ignores it as sleep calls to him. The Absolute, his orb, and the future can all wait. His fate will have him eventually, that much Gale knows, but it won't have him yet.

So, for the first time in what feels like years, Gale sleeps for the entirety of the night.

---

"Gale!"

Gale has to start expecting a rude awakening, at this point.

"Wizard, get up!" Astarion hisses. He doesn't touch him, and for that, Gale is thankful, but his urgency strikes fear into the human's heart. "They're checking the rooms! We have to go!"

The only light in the room comes from a lamp by the round table. It must've been where Astarion had stationed himself after his trance. With no sun to tell night from day, Gale finds himself confused as to how much time, exactly, has passed.

But he doesn't have time to question. Gale throws himself from the bed and gathers up their few belongings.

Astarion takes it out of his hands. "I'll do this! You do your wizard thing and teleport us out!" With that, the elf starts shoving anything they own, and a few things they don't, into their packs. While Gale typically wouldn't endorse such blatant theft, he knows there's a time and place.

And this is certainly both.

"Right!" Gale rushes to the window. The city is quiet outside, but the occasional carriage or civilian crosses the cobblestone streets. It wouldn't do them much good to leave the room just to find themselves at the mercy of whatever drow spots them. The alleys would be his best bet, but where would they go after? The alleys all connect and without the time they need to set up any proper disguises, they would only subject themselves to more risk.

This time, Gale can hear the footsteps outside their door. A stern voice is paired with a firm rapping at the door beside them. "Open up! This is a standard check!" Not likely someone who works at the tavern itself. A member of law enforcement, then? It's possible, but Gale doesn't really want to come close enough to find out.

"Have you found a place?!" Astarion hisses as he returns from the bathroom, Gale's purple robe in his hands. It's not exactly clean, but it's worlds better than his under-tunic, which has hopefully been left behind.

"I'm working on it!"

Buildings pass over his gaze seemingly without much difference. So many locations and he can't seem to find a single one that has a clear and obvious blind spot. Too many windows on the shops near the street, and too little covered around the residential complexes. Impasses that are guarded by wandering children or a beggar. So many options and none are secure enough for their escape.

But then he sees it. There, at the far southeast of the city, lies a dock. There will be boats for them to use. They can escape the city itself if they steal one. Yes, that's where he has to take them. It's far, but he can reach it.

He must.

A knock rattles against their door. "Open up!"

Gale turns back, his eyes meeting Astarion's. He can't speak for fear of giving them away, so he wordlessly begins opening the window.

Shrrrreeek.

"Open up now! This is a standard check!"

Another push at the window and it only gets louder.

"If you do not comply, we will be forced to-"

Astarion moans. Loudly.

Like a strike of lightning, Gale's entire body goes numb in shock. He turns, unsure if he's heard properly. But then Astarion moans again, his voice high and breathy as he begins shaking the bed against the far wall, the knocking sound most definitely painting the picture he must be seeking.

To his credit, the guards stop giving orders. It gives Gale the time he needs to completely throw open the window, each bang of the bed completely covering up the screeching. The location is far, but it shouldn't take much to-

Astarion continues to moan and it's very distracting. Gale shakes his head, the blush that dusts his cheeks ever present as he attempts to cast his spell. He focuses on each individual word and the motion it makes with his tongue. Focus, he has to focus.

A shove at his back sends Gale tumbling out of the window and down to the street several floors below. In that moment, he finishes the spell and the Weave saves them from a greater fall.

However, their destination doesn't stay the same. Since Gale's line of vision had moved, so did the place of their landing.

They tumble onto one on the rooftops, the shingles pressing on every bruise Gale has. He grunts from the impact, then looks up to see Astarion already gathering up their packs.

"Did you-" A look to the window they evaded not a full ten seconds ago proves his suspicions correct. "You pushed me! I was in the middle of casting a spell and you-"

"You were wasting time!" Astarion argues as he climbs to his feet. It takes a great deal of balance, but he manages to start out in a run.

Gale's stomach sinks as he realizes how far off the ground they are. Any misstep and he could be falling all over again.

Gathering his courage, Gale sets out after Astarion, his own pack secured on his back. The nimble vampire soars ahead, his feet landing elegantly as he jumps from building to building. Gale follows with care, his lips already prepared to activate another Dimension Door, should he slip.

"Head for the docks!" Gale calls, his voice echoing just slightly. "We can get- get a boat!" He pants.

Wordlessly, Astarion turns in that direction. He must see it already from his place ahead of Gale. The vampire leaps and bounds with seemingly little effort. The distance between them grows significant as he runs across one of the few flat-roofed buildings and disappears into an alley.

"Wait-" Gale jumps as an arrow bounces off the shingles just beside him. Another hits where his foot once was, had he not moved. They come from behind, meaning that whatever guards were looking for them have now reached the open window. Gale's heart pounds as he tries to run faster, but his boots are of little help against the damp stone and he slips. Without the time to cast a full Dimension Door, Gale uses Misty Step to keep himself upright and a few houses further, but the arrows don't stop. One cuts right through the strap of his pack and nicks a stripe across his side.

"Ingnees!" Gale casts a bolt of fire behind him, blindly. He doesn't know if it hits or not, but it matters little. All he needs is a slight distraction while he drops down onto the balcony of the shop he's currently standing on.

"Gods!" Gale's right knee flares with pain. He crouches down to hold it, his fingers working to ease the tension in his muscles; but when another arrow whizzes past his ear, he knows it's time to get moving again, pain or not.

Standing on the thick sill -but not nearly as thick as he would like- surrounding the second tier of the complex, Gale inches his way out of view of the tavern window. There's barely enough room for his foot's width, leaving a good part of his heel hanging off. There's nothing for him to hold as he goes, back to the alley and hands very shakily touching the smooth stone wall.

A voice shouts after him and Gale holds back a groan. There's nowhere for him to go! He can't jump down, not at this height, and getting back on the roof will do him little good, even if he could reach up that high. The guards get closer and Gale looks for any solution, anything at all-

There! Gale carefully shimmies toward the only window on this side of the building. Once he's at it, he makes quick work of pulling it open and climbing inside.

A little boy screams, his toys all but forgotten as he bursts into horrified tears. "Mama!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Gale runs out of the bedroom and into a rather plebeian-looking hall. The pictures certainly tell stories of a loving family and-

No, stop! He doesn't have time!

Gale runs down a flight of stairs faster than he's ever moved before. He pivots to pass through the kitchen and is met with a rather angry-looking female drow. "Theif!" She cries, the knife she was formerly cutting roots with now raised high in warning.

"I really am sorry!" Gale shouts as he passes by, his hands already throwing up a second window that exits on the opposite side he entered. "Have a pleasant day, Ma'am!"

He can see the docks now, straight ahead. Gale runs for it, ignoring how his chest aches from the exhaustion of the chase. He rounds a corner as it comes up and the full lake comes into view, as well as the rows upon rows of fishing ships. Gale makes for the closest one before a pair of hands pull him back into the alley. He fights them, his elbow connecting with something hard as he-

"Ow!" Astarion lets go of him as he cradles his jaw instead.

Gale stops. "Astarion!" He's filled with a mixture of anger and relief. Anger, because the man left him behind to fend for himself, and relief to see the one person who isn't trying to kill him. Yet.

"We really must stop meeting like this." Despite the hint of flirtation, there is no amusement on Astarion's face.

Gale ignores him. "Have you found a ship?" He peeks out at the line, as well as the guards who patrol. "If we want to get out of this blasted city, we'll need to act quickly."

"Precisely." Astarion's expression leans closer to a grimace than a smile. "You see that little one there?" The man points out at one of the larger ships, ironically. It's covered in sharp spikes and bone structures. Thick ropes line the outside, connecting each piece like the spin of a web. It's elegant in a way Gale has never thought such primitive designs could be.

It also looks unattended.

"I go right, you go left, and we both meet on the ship. Cut any ropes you see, got it?" Astarion flips the dagger in his hand, thin fingers wrapping around the handle gracefully.

Gale nods and once there's an opening, they run. Gale goes to the left as he fishes out a single arrow from his pack. Using the tip, he kneels at the rope tied onto the dock itself and starts cutting away at it. The arrowhead is sharp, but the rope is thicker and it takes more time than he can really afford, especially using only his good hand.

"Hey!" A guard turns toward them, her sword held at the ready. "Get off of that, Slave! Where is your master?!"

"He's aboard already!" Astarion saunters towards her, his charm returning. It'll buy Gale a few seconds more, at least.

Just as he's about halfway there, another chorus of voices cry out. Several drow guards run for them, crossbows in each of their hands.

Oh, for the love of Mystra!

"Astarion!" Gale calls as he abandons the rope in favor of climbing aboard the ship. Astarion is quick to shove the guard he was speaking with aside and bolts to join him. He starts the ship off seconds later and Gale sends a wave of thunder at the remaining rope, finally getting rid of their restraints.

"Hey! Who are you?!" An elderly drow exits from the cabin below. Gale makes the quick decision to throw him overboard and into the water. The man resurfaces, but he won't be getting his ship back anytime soon. Or ever, most likely.

They're a good distance from the dock by the time the guards have caught up. They aim their crossbows, but it does little against the cover of spikes offered to them. They've lost and the pair of them are finally, truly free from the drow.

"HA!" Astarion laughs, his eyes wild as he looks out at the docks. "I'll say, I can't believe we pulled it off."

Gale sits on an unoccupied crate, a hand placed over his chest. "I'm too old for this kind of excitement." How far had he run? A half-kilometer, most likely, if not further. He crossed a good portion of the city, and although it's not very large in comparison to a place like Waterdeep, he can still feel the strain it's put on him. His knees ache and his tongue has gone completely dry.

"Oh, please." Astarion rolls his eyes. "You're supposed to be a grandiose wizard. Given, no one said wizards are known for their dexterity." Gale lets his displeasure on that subject be known with a flip of his finger. "Fine. Let's just hope there's drinkable water and food, for your sake. Who knows how long we'll be here."

That, he can agree to. Looking out at the water around them, Gale sees nothing but darkness. The single lantern attached to the stern does little to penetrate it.

"We'll take turns keeping watch." Gale decides. "We can't afford to be picked up by the drow again. Our escape was miraculous to say the least and I highly doubt a repeat will be so easy." His heart clenches in sympathy for the slaves they left behind, but there's nothing he can do. There's a reason the drow have thrived off of the free labor for so long. It's suicide to enter the Underdark at all, let alone this far down.

And that's only one of the many horrors they'll face down here.

"You take first watch," Astarion tells him, a sly smile curling his lips. "I'll see if that old drow had friends to drink from." And with that, the vampire retreats into the captain's quarters.

Notes:

And so starts our proper Enemies to Lovers arc! Strap in! This is only the beginning!

Chapter 8: Echoes

Notes:

I can't believe this is already over 30k words! Thank you all for sticking around so long! There's much more until the end and I hope anyone binging this will take a break for water and a snack!

"Well, he was fun." Tav steps into Gale's tent, their eyes tracing over him before they sit at his opposite. "Was he your friend or something?"

Gale can't bring himself to smile despite the company that's joined him. Elminster's words creep into his mind, their meaning like a vice grip on his heart. The Netherese Orb is nothing in comparison to this pain. To know that his Goddess had sent Elminster for that particular message only rubs salt into the wound.

"The answer is a complex one," Gale says at last, his gaze still not meeting Tav's. "Elminster, like myself, is an archmage of Mystra's selection. We are more colleagues than friends, but I've respected him for a great deal of time, both before and after I had become Mystra's Chosen. He's a fine wizard to say the least and a fine man as well." He can already recall the evenings they spent talking about the Weave's potential. Elminster always set up a tray of cheeses for their discussions. It felt special until Gale realized Elminster does the same with all of his students and he just so happens to enjoy cheese a great deal.

But to send the one wizard Gale has felt at least comfortable around is...

No. No, he can't question Mystra's choice. It's not as if she would tell him herself. So, Elminster is a logical choice of messenger. Someone she can trust not to interfere with her decision.

And what a decision it is.

"So," Tav starts, their head tilted. "No more feeding off of my items, right? I've already given you some pretty useful gloves. I don't think I can keep you around if things continue, even with whatever we have between us." They're joking but Gale doesn't think it's entirely untrue. He knows his condition has put a strain on things and they did need those items.

"Rest assured, my condition is now stable. I won't ask any more of you- past the pleasures of your bedroll, of course." He tries to lighten the mood but the weight doesn't lift.

"Just how I like you." Tav smiles. They shuffle towards him, large horns guided carefully away from poking his eyes as they lean their head against his shoulder. "Are you going to do it? When the time comes, you'll destroy the Absolute?"

Gale swallows. "I don't see much choice in the matter. Mystra has asked this of me and to refuse would hold unknown consequences."

There's a frown in Tav's voice when they speak next. "I wish you'd stop talking about Mystra so much. You're mine, remember? My lover, my little wizard. It makes me worry when you bring her up so often."

Gale turns to Tav. Their position shifts, forcing them to face each other properly. Gale can see how Tav glares at him. No, not him, but just past him. Their hand reaches up to pull at his earring, the touch gentle yet daring. It sends a spike of fear through Gale and he pulls away quickly, how own hand touching the same ornament.

Tav's glare deepens.

"I promise you, my heart lies in your hands alone! I understand that my history with Mystra may not make me the most...appealing option laid before you, and I would be lying if I said that I never think back on my time with her as her Chosen, but you must believe me when I say that our time together is done. Even if I wished to return to Mystra's side, she would never have me."

"Then take off that damned earring." Tav challenges, their tone dripping with fury. "If she really means nothing, then why do you keep her gifts on your person?"

The rough pad of Gale's finger crosses over the eight-sided star carved of silver. Mystra's symbol. "Tav, she is my Goddess! Beyond our relations, Mystra is the very one who allows the Weave to flow in order and balance! My magic stems from her! My every spell and uttered word is because she allows me only a piece of her power! This earring holds those abilities! If I were to rid myself of it, I would...I would be deprived of magic in its entirety."

Tav's face softens. Their shoulders slump as they lean forward and knock their brows together. When they speak, the words are nothing more than a whisper. "I'm sorry. Let's just forget about Mystra and the orb and everything in between. We'll camp for the night. It's already been a long day." A hand reaches forward, callused fingers gentle as they hold Gale's face. A soft kiss, then a smirk. "We'll enjoy the night. Together."

Gale forces a smile, a gesture made for nothing but Tav's comfort and the end of this conversation.

He'll hold his tongue next time Mystra crosses his mind. It may cost him this fragile love he's found.

---

Eek!

Astarion looks up from his book. He stops, ears twitching as he listens for another sound. Ten seconds, twenty. A minute and nothing happens. Even so, Astarion's focus doesn't return to the story he was once so captivated by.

Something is out there, he knows. Many somethings, to be sure; but without the range of sight he needs, there's no way to predict what it may be. That sound could've come from anything between a flitting bat or a monster of the water, its maw already extended to engulf their ship.

He stands, then. He would cast a light spell from the locket he found in the captain's quarters to better, but Gale had so helpfully consumed its magic three hours ago. Astarion thought his hunger was obnoxious to tend to, but this condition of the human's has been far more pestilent.

So, he lifts their single lantern. Astarion stares out at the emptiness, his eyes narrowed to hopefully catch something at the edge of his vision. There's little to see, really. This darkness is unlike the pass of night or the shadows he once lived in when he worked for Cazador. This darkness is like a blanket, thick and impenetrable. Even his skilled eyes have difficulty seeing much further past the ship. If he weren't with a wizard, Astarion would assume this blackness was magical.

Suddenly, a rock overhang appears out of the shadows. The ship clears it easily, but the current changes speed. It carries them faster into a passageway, stone on all sides of them. It narrows and the spikes on either side of the ship leave scratches against the wet walls, wood against stone. The sound must bring Gale out of his sleep because not a full minute later, the human comes crawling out of the captain's quarters.

"What in the blazes-" The ship jolts as a few of the spikes are ripped clean off. They splinter and crack, while the others continue to carve deep lines into the rock, the sound it creates ringing in Astarion's sensitive ears. "Where are we?!" Gale holds fast to the nearest beam.

Astarion doesn't respond. Instead, he sets the lantern back in its place and holds the helm wheel in a white-knuckled grip. The water pushes them faster, forcing more of the spikes to break away. It nearly knocks Astarion off his feet.

The tunnel narrows further, and just as Astarion worries they'll get stuck, the water pushes them into a small opening. Astarion can see wide walls of stone on all sides and above. Unlike the walls of the previous caverns, this one is riddled with holes the size of a humanoid creature. They're grouped close together, like a wasp's nest. The thought of each one hiding some kind of beast makes Astarion restless.

"My word..." Gale stares, his mouth agape as he examines the same holes. "I've never seen anything quite like this. The patterns are similar to a honeycomb but far less organized. All the same, there's no doubt in my mind that these act as a resting place; and if this truly is a colony of some kind, we're better off leaving."

"What a genius idea." Atarion grins ever so widely. "I wonder how you figured that one." He goes ignored.

As Astarion navigates them through the cavern, Gale continues his observations aloud, seemingly unaware of how it grates on the vampire's nerves. Or perhaps he simply can't think past his own brilliance. "Very curious...I wonder if they've laid larvae here. It is a protected pocket, judging from the location alone. But if that were true, we would likely have met the adults by now-"

Eek!

"There!" Astarion freezes. "Did you hear that?!"

Gale's curiosity turns into unease, their gazes meeting. "Oh, this can't be good."

That's all Astarion needs to hear. He turns the wheel quickly and guides them as far from the walls as possible. But then another sound echoed through the cave, and another. Soon, the entire cave is filled with high-pitched screeches. They fill Astarion's head, his ears ringing as they bounce around his skull like shrapnel from a bomb.

He has to let go of the wheel to block the sound out. His head pounds with each shriek, the noise only getting louder and louder. Astarion grits his teeth, his knees giving out from under him. He can't move, not against the vicious attack on his senses.

Flashes cross his mind. Memories that clutch Astarion's throat and squeeze it tight. He breathes in quick bursts, the feeling of walls closing in around him too overwhelming to ignore.

When Astarion reaches out, his hand meets wood. It's the same no matter where he turns. He cannot escape it. Gritty sand begins to leak in from the cracks between each seam. It fills in all around him. The wooden roof gives and soil piles on Astarion, crushing him with its weight. He's trapped, unable to move. He can't breathe, can't see, can't can't cantcantca-

With strength not at all his own, Astarion pushes one fist forward. He claws at the soil, trying to clear it enough to push himself up. His arms shake with the effort, but once he's freed himself of the caved roof, he can pass through the soil with his legs. It's like swimming through solid ground, each desperate attempt only trapping another limb and filling his mouth with earth.

A single hand breaches into the open air and Astarion screams with relief. His lungs fill with dirt and something warm spills from his eyes, his fingers, everywhere, but he keeps pushing. Another fistful of soil, a push of his legs.

Astarion coughs roughly as his head breaks free, then the rest of him follows after. He shakes. The phantom feeling of being squeezed still lingers, but he can feel the chilling breeze whip past his cheek. He's free. He's free, he's-

"Pathetic creature."

Astarion looks up to the man standing before him. He has no words, nothing in his mind but fear, fear, fear-.

"From this point forward, you are mine, Spawn." The man- no- monster, says. His eyes glow red and his lips reveal sharpened teeth underneath. A vampire. "I will be your master for the rest of eternity."

Cazador. His master.

The tadpol squirms and Astarion is suddenly connecting to someone else.

The location is completely foreign, yet it isn't at all. He knows this place, deep within his mind. Moonrise Towers, the very place they were heading before...before...

His view shifts and Astarion is surprised to see himself looking back. But the marvel of his own face comes second to the pure terror in that expression. Astarion feels it too, the pressure building in his chest. He tries to touch it but his body is not his own. He is not witnessing his own memories.

This is Gale's.

Beside this vision's Astarion stands the companions from before. The fiery tiefling, Shadowheart, the githyanki, and the Balde of Frontiers. But then there's another face Astarion doesn't recognize; another tiefling with a strong build and intense eyes. They look directly at him, something silent crossing between them. The fear grows from within and his view turns to the glowing orb within his chest.

It pulses. Unlike the hunger for blood, this orb demands what it wants with the threat of destruction. Astarion can feel its angry claws tearing at the inside of his chest. It will consume his very existence, then explode his making outward.

A detonation the size of Waterdeep, as Gale had described it.

With a touch of magic, a dagger appears into existence between his fingers. He holds the handle with shaking hands but it does little to stop their path towards the orb. The sharpened end just barely touches skin, the sting almost preliminary. Then, he stops. Terror rolls over him in waves of cold, his heart beating painfully beside the raging orb.

He doesn't want to die.

Thoughts that are not Astarion's cycle through his mind. Thoughts of a goddess he does not worship, an order to kill himself and take the Absolute with him. A single word from a Tav that Astarion doesn't recognize, encourages him to do just that.

No tears fall as his resolve strengthens, but Astarion feels like screaming. He's trapped in this body, forced to experience an act neither selfless nor heroic. It's suicide.

When the dagger breaks through, the pain of before quickly becomes excruciating. His body doesn't know how to receive it or what to do with such a strong signal. But his hands push further, seating the blade fully.

It touches the orb and the reaction is delayed by only a second.

Astarion is thrust back into his own mind. He stumbles, his vision slowly clearing again as he looks across a wooden ship. Creatures surround him, human faces with bird-like features. The high-pitched sound from before escapes their lips, glowing eyes staring at him through the darkness. They step closer as long claws outstretch toward his exposed flesh.

Grabbing the first thing his hand can find on his person, Astarion stabs the sharp end into the creature closest to him. It screeches as it withdraws, the sound completely inhuman in its nature. It collapses with a syringe in its chest, the very same he stole from the drow infirmary. The rest back away as well, but their eyes peer into him. Astarion has perhaps a few seconds before he's overpowered.

Jumping to his feet, Astarion pulls a blade from his belt and cuts into the same creature from before, then hits the next behind it. He powers through the rest and stumbles down to Gale, who's just starting to rise. He's too disoriented to react, Astarion knows, so he does the wizard a favor and distracts the creatures from behind. They see him coming, however.

The battle starts.

The creatures scream as they slash at Astarion with their claws. The sound pierces his skull, leaving him vulnerable to their attacks. Astarion does what he can to stay focused, but with so many of them around and more coming, it's become a losing fight. Astarion cuts and slashes anything that comes close enough but they return with even more numbers. A claw drags Astarion to the ground and he tries to kick the creature off but its nails have dug deep into his shoulder.

He cries out, his attempts becoming desperate. Another pulls his leg, tearing the skin around his ankle. More surround him, nothing but feathers and wrinkled skin crossing his vision as he fights and fights. He won't last long, Astarion knows, but he can't stop. Each attack must be met. Every tear in his flesh must be punished.

"Get off!" A voice calls above and in an instant, everything clears. A wave of air crosses just over Astarion, taking every single creature with it and pushing them into the water. They scream and caw in protest, but strong hands are already pulling Astarion to his feet and offering him something to lean against. He breathes, his body covered in deep gashes, but he's alive. For that, he can be grateful.

"Were you...stalling on purpose, Wizard?" Astarion huffs. He tries for irritated but his relief crosses in.

Gale takes a stance, one hand wrapped around Astarion's waist and the other outstretched as he throws a bolt of lightning at the creatures flying in from above. "Now isn't the best time for conversation!"

Right. Mid-battle banter isn't advised, especially with a mage who will need his words.

Focusing, Astarion pulls his crossbow from off his back and nocks his first arrow. It flies true, striking one of the beasts just as it lands, then the next arrow kills one attempting to climb back on the boat.

A blow from behind knocks them both forward. Astarion's weight pulls them down and they go tumbling to the floor. They tip one of the many barrels as they go, its contents spilling across them and the ship. It stinks of cheap wine.

Gale pauses from pushing himself up, his eyes lighting up with an idea. "Astarion, this is flamable!" He smiles brightly, even in the darkness of the cave. "Come on! I know how to get rid of these vermin!" Astarion is more pulled than helped as Gale drags him across the ship. The wizard knocks over the rest of the barrels as they go, more and more wine covering the base of the ship. The creatures continue in their pursuit, unaware of the trap crafting itself around them.

With a flash, the two of them blink off of the ship and onto a rock ledge close by. Then, before Astarion can so much as think, a powerful wave of heat washes over him as it's thrown directly onto the ship. It exploses into a blazing inferno, taking the creatures with it. Their screams echo across the chamber, but they soon die out one by one, their corpses still burning.

Astarion looks up, the fire bright enough for him to see every detail of Gale's face. The bruises and trails of blood mean nothing against the brilliant grin on the wizard's face. And as much as he hates to say it, pride does look good on him.

It beats self-pity, anyway.

"Gods," Astarion hisses, his attention returning to his injuries with a zing in his shoulder. "Those damned things are sharper than they appear, both literally and not." He dares to touch the flesh and immediately regrets it. "Please tell me you know a few healing spells."

Gale's face falls as he too grimaces. He isn't nearly as hurt as Astarion, but those things certainly got a few good hits in. Blood trails down his cheek and Astarion gets the urge to sink his teeth in, to feed again after what feels like ages, but he resists. Damn Gale and his vile blood.

Standing, Astarion gazes out at the quickly returning darkness. "Well, Your Grace, what now? You've just destroyed our ship and I doubt anyone else will be sailing down here for a taste of adventure."

"Right." Gale sounds as if he hadn't considered that. Astarion doesn't resist the urge to sigh loudly. "It does happen that I know a few spells for this very dim situation. We will let that be our guide as we traverse forward on foot. Not an ideal solution, mind you, but there's little else to our disposal- which is in part my fault. That much I will take accountability for."

"Oh, a wonderful idea! We'll just walk to the surface." Astarion scowls. "Perhaps we could ask these beasties for a ride, while we're making up ridiculous ideas."

"Ah, that wouldn't be advised," Gale says with a shake of his head. "I highly doubt these creatures could bear our weight added onto their own. And even so, we've made quite an enemy of them."

He...can't be serious.

Astarion shoves past him, his bleeding ankle be damned. He'll walk, but only because there's no other choice.

Together, they step into the darkness again with nothing but the weapons on their backs and a single light to protect them. Gale mixes them healing potions as they walk and it does a little to take off some of that sting, but Astarion will have to live with his injuries a while longer. It's not enough to keep those good thoughts about Gale present and by the time they've left the cavern proper, Astarion has returned to his near-constant annoyance at depending on such a useless wizard.

The memories they shared are carefully shoved to the back of Astarion's mind, where he doesn't have to think about the life taken from him by Cazador or what may happen now that he's left Baldur's Gate for so long.

But Gale's memories? Those he mulls over. He considers them deeply before deciding to wait for the right time to bring them up. That Tav was most definitely not one he met and the fact that they came from a time that has not yet happened?

Well, it's all so curious.

Chapter 9: Allies

It takes a few hours for Astarion to realize they've just destroyed their entire supply of food.

True, Astarion wasn't the one who really needed it. It's both a blessing and curse to sustain himself entirely off of blood, and although he would argue in favor of the curse option, it's come in handy this very once.

Until it doesn't because he's now subjected to Gale's groveling.

"Gods, I can't believe the Underdark is so barren! With hundreds of varying life forms, you'd assume even the slightest morsel of food would be available to anyone with a human-adjacent diet! But of course, that's a tall ask for such a place as this. Food, water, even a good night's rest is nothing more than a distant dream. Not unless you fancy being trapped in Menzoberranzan again."

He's not even talking to Astarion. Now, if Astarion were to respond and start up a conversation, he likely wouldn't even bat an eye before going on and on again about some other complaint. But as it stands now, Gale is talking just to talk and nothing has been more irritating thus far.

"Oh, do shut up already." Astarion groans. "You're wasting more energy yacking along than actually walking at this point."

Gale frowns. "I most certainly am not. Do you have any concept of how many calories simply speaking burns per hour? I'll tell you this for free, it is minuscule in comparison to walking a kilometer. Walking engages over two hundred muscles over and over! A single step requires nearly the entire system! Speaking, especially in common, is only half that! Yes, it does require more than the movement of tongue and lips -the movement of one's lungs and diaphragm are impartial to speech- but all of that pales in comparison to the way one's legs must-"

"Does your mouth ever stop moving?" Astarion snaps. "Perhaps if you had something to wrap those loose lips around? Would that get you to finally shut up?"

Just as he expected, Gale bristles at the comment. "I will have you know, my services are not to be offered so freely as that and especially not to the likes of you, Astartion."

Gods, he's pretentious. The wizard clutches at his robes in offense, as if he were a cleric of the most high and righteous diety. Astarion will admit, he finds it half amusing, past everything else. To watch someone react so heavily to his words is almost refreshing. Tav seemed almost too unphased by anything and everything he said. And Shadowheart either disapproved quietly or added a snark of her own. The other one...Wyll, was he? The hero he is, any filthy words would likely cause him to melt.

Gale huffs as he points an accusing finger at Astarion. "Honestly, why would you even suggest something so-"

Another step forward and suddenly, their feet are no longer on the ground. A net of rope pulls them up, Astarion's limbs tangling with Gale's as they bounce once, twice, then settle after the third. Elbows dig into Astarion's side and he tries to adjust, only for his leg to slip through one of the holes. Gale grunts as he tries to move as well but to no avail as he too slips, his head falling against Astarion's shoulder. They lay in the hanging net chest to chest.

"Get- ugh! Get off of me!" Astarion tries to push away but he has nothing to push against, not with how his legs dangle out the bottom of the net. He tries to grab onto one of the knots above his head but he doesn't quite have enough strength to lift both him and Gale together.

After another moment of shuffling, they accept their defeat for the time being. "A trap. Curious that our well-esteemed rogue didn't see it?"

Astarion would hit him if he knew where they were. "I could say the very same, oh wise wizard."

Silence passes between them before they can refocus on the task at hand. They've been trapped and something deliberately set this up. If they want to continue to live, they should think of getting out and quickly.

"See if you can reach my dagger. It's on my side." Astarion tells Gale, who then starts to shuffle again. He leans closer, hot breath spreading across Astarion's collar as the wizard's fingers brush against his side. Fingers fumble against his waist, caught on the textures of his outfit. The hand rises upward clumsily, almost reaching up to his chest. "What are you doing?"

"I can't feel it!" Gale overcorrects, his palm landing itself firmly against his thigh.

Astarion's skin crawls and he tries to move his leg away. "Just stop touching me! You're making things worse!"

"You told me to get your dagger!" Gale argues, exasperated. Thankfully, his hand does leave, returning to its proper place above both of their heads. It allows the wizard to push himself off of Astarion a few inches.

"Well, it most certainly wasn't there, now was it?" Astarion glares up at him, but it doesn't last. "Haven't you a plethora of spells? Surely one would work against a net of all things."

Gale's brows furrow as he looks up at the rope fibers. "While I can think of a few that would get us out, the fall would only cause more damage. It looks to be a ten-foot drop at least. Survivable, but your spine would take the brunt of it both our weights. Vampire healing aside, I think it best we avoid such a tumble." He continues in a mumble. "Besides, fire and rope have never been the best of friends."

A good point, but Astarion doesn't grant him the pleasure of knowing it.

"So, what? You plan to wait here until someone comes along to help us?" The sarcasm doesn't land as he intended.

"I'm doubtful that's a possibility. We're more likely to be killed here than be offered sanctuary of any sort." Gale looks out at the world below them. His eyes narrow on a spot ahead and Astarion feels himself go still. He gets the urge to ask what it is, but he keeps quiet. Any more sound could attract it.

Even in the dim light, Astarion sees the moment Gale goes pale.

"By Mystra's nails..." Gale suddenly starts moving again. He tries to pull off of Astarion but the net gives too much for him to get leverage. Astarion tries to help him up, both hands lifting on the wizard's hips, but it gets them nowhere. Gale's arms shake with the effort he expends to lift himself with his upper body alone. His bad hand slips first, making him crash back down onto Astartion's lap.

The sound of tick, tick, ticking, comes from below Astarion. Not footsteps or the crunch of paws. Whatever it is, it walks on many points. Or perhaps there are several of them. Claws, maybe? Sharpened nails that click against the stone.

"Shit-" With a shink, they're falling again, but the impact doesn't land nearly hard enough against Astarion's back. Instead, cold arms pull him in, their dark skin eerily similar to a drow's. Almost too similar, but the sounds don't add up. If these are drow, then what was the-

Astarion stares up at a drow's face and several pairs of black eyes blink back. More tick, ticks as the drow lowers him to the floor and realization hits Astarion like a wooden stake through the side.

Drider. Half-spider, half-drow. Five of them, all watching him and Gale with odd expressions. They chitter to each other, a language incomprehensible to Astarion. The sounds are more a click of their teeth than real words, but they all seem to understand each other well enough.

"Hells!" Astarion scrambles away, his legs pushing him as far from the drider as he can go. Gale clambers with him just as a drider leans down to swipe at him. They're both at a severe disadvantage. Not only can they not outrun these creatures, but any attempt could only make them more hostile. The fact they haven't been actually attacked yet is a miracle in itself.

They climb to their feet, Astarion's hand already reaching for his daggers. He holds them out in a defensive pose, a threat in any language.

One of the driders, a thin woman with a gaunt face, takes a step closer. She chitters at him, a hand reaching out toward him. "Back!" Astarion commands, his teeth grinding together. "Stay back!"

She stops, then continues again after a moment. Another chitter and this time, she opens her palm to him. A portion of bread lies inside.

It's an offering. An offer of food, universally known as a peace attempt.

"Is...is that for us?" Gale asks, his eyes wide with bewilderment. The drider doesn't answer directly, her hand still outstretched.

They exchange a look. Astarion's eyes narrow, a silent warning for what trusting these creatures may cause, but Gale's shoulders ease slightly. He doesn't trust them, but he thinks this may not end poorly. If Astarion trusts him.

Another look at the drider and Astarion finally, reluctantly, nods in encouragement. Even he isn't stupid enough to bite the hand that's offering peace.

When Gale takes the bread portion, the driders behind light up in coos and awes. It's beyond bizarre, but a second portion is offered, this time by a younger male. He's less patient as he shakes his hand out to Gale, black eyes bright with joy.

Gale examines the portion already in his hand. "It doesn't seem poisoned. Stale perhaps, but not tampered with." He bites off of it and Astarion waits with baited breath. If he so much as chokes-

"It's fine. Not a bread I'm familiar with, but the flavor is quite good. A hint of bitterness that mixes well against its harder texture. Here," Gale hands over the portion in his hand, then takes the other offered from the young drider. Again, they coo in response, their legs tapping with excitement.

It's Astarion's turn to examine the bread. He doesn't eat it, but he does smell that hint of bitter Gale mentioned. It's harder than most bread he's encountered, but it comes less from being stale and more as if it were intentional. Very interesting.

"Oh! One at a time, please!"

Astarion looks up to see Gale crowded with hands. Four driders are offering him bits of their food and eagerly awaiting his response. This time, they give more than their food. Other strange things are thrust at Gale all at once, some mushrooms and other trinkets they must've found lying about. The tallest drider watches the exchange with a frown, but he does little to stop them.

It's so, so strange. Astarion doesn't know how to take this, isn't sure whether to trust them or to trust his cautious nature.

The driders turn away, then. Their gazes don't leave Gale, but they've started to walk away. The offers have all been taken and now, the creatures whistle as they snap their outstretched hands, as if beckoning a cat.

"I...I think they want us to follow." Gale's eyes meet Astarion's, asking. That surprises the vampire almost as much as these spiders have.

"This smells like a trap." He frowns. "It's suspicious."

Gale nods. "Understandable, but..." Without explanation, the wizard utters a whisper of a spell. His eyes close for a moment, then snap open again in surprise. "Elminster's boxers! I don't believe it!"

"What?" Astarion steps closer, his hand reaching out to touch but he stops it just shy. "What did you do?"

The wizard turns to him, a baffled smile on his lips. "I read their thoughts. They're friendly and...protective." Gale straightens, amazement shining in his eyes. "There's a theory I once read about. It said that animals all perceive us and our relations differently. Like dogs! A man's best friend, as they're known. They see us as their masters, but a mouse or bear wouldn't be the same!"

Astarion tilts his head, hands on his hips. "Well obviously. A mouse can't much eat us, now can it?"

Gale shakes his head, undeterred. "No, this is different! See, it goes beyond the cycle of predator and prey! A dog sees humans -and elves by extension- as their masters, yes? But domesticated birds aren't the same. To them, we're mates! And cats view us as their own family, albeit hideous and quite clumsy. But a Tressym will see us as we are, other beings entirely different from them! They know the difference between humanoid and feline!"

"And how does this connect to the drider, exactly?" Astarion's gaze flicks to said creatures, who continue to whistle at them. Odd. Very odd.

"That's just it! They see us as pets! I'm not sure if it's true for all driders, but these ones at least think we're animals of lower intellect. They wish to take us in like Tav did Scratch!" Gale laughs. "Amazing, isn't it?!"

Astarion blinks at him. Then, he tries to comprehend it all. "So they," He points to the driders, "think we're...cats?"

"Precisely!"

"Oh, fuck me." Astarion sighs. While it's better than the alternative, he doesn't want to be a pet either. Maybe they could slip away, like a real cat would?

"No, no, this is good for us!" Gale is quick to assure him. "They have food -and water, I assume! Most importantly, they want to protect us and should we play this out correctly, these driders could guide us a good way through the Underdark!"

Astarion stays silent. He watches the driders, their shiny eyes and desperate calls grating on his conscious. Just the memory of their hands makes him want to turn around now and drag the idiot of a wizard with him...but it's not the worst plan. Better than no plan at all, and Astarion understands safety over dignity. It's what kept him partially sane through two hundred years of shit.

"Fine."

Gale is perhaps a little too eager to feed into this whole game. He makes a show of resisting their whistles, then follows them cautiously. The idiot must own a cat himself because even his footsteps mimic that of a stray. He moves forward a few steps, then pretends to be distracted by something else. When the whistling returns, he follows again.

Astarion doesn't know whether to burst out in laughter or curse whatever god has damned him like this. It's stupid and humiliating! He will not act like a damned cat!

Yet, he does just that. By the time Gale has given up most of his false cautiousness, Astarion has gathered the pattern of his footsteps and follows in his act of sly movements to the drider's camp. Of course, it's only partially an act. He's much more concerned with keeping aware than the magician, it seems.

They enter into a small opening in the stone wall -to call it a cave would be quite generous. The walls are illuminated by a glowing pile of mushrooms in the middle of the shelter, pictures lining their surfaces not unlike hieroglyphics. They show the set of five driders all standing side by side like a family portrait. Astarion notices that the two youngest drider are depicted as children in the picture, likely a reflection of when they all banded together, if they aren't related by blood.

In the furthest corner is a small hole dug into the ground, away from the rest of the shelter and protected by a barrier of pebbles. Astarion tries to peek inside, but the glow of the mushrooms doesn't quite reach that far.

The first drider to greet them beckons them into the cavern proper. Gale goes willingly, his eyes cast to the pictures as well. Then, he examines the mushrooms in the center, their blue hue casting shadows over his face. "Astonishing...They've built a life for themselves here. And are those eggs-" Gale is stopped before he can get close to the hole. The largest drider holds his hands out, a stern shake of his head following after. One of the older female driders cut in to argue with him and Gale backs away to sit against the wall, beside Astartion.

"I didn't mean to...well, never mind. They can't much understand me it seems." Gale turns away from them to look at the picture, his questions now pointed in Astarion's direction. "Look at these symbols." The wizard's hand passes over a series of markings under each picture, careful not to disturb them. "Do you think these are their names?"

The vampire holds back any snide comments and really looks at the symbols. They aren't common, but they almost resemble Elvish. It's too far removed for Astarion to make sense of it, but some of the letters definitely hold similar appearances. "What do you know about driders, Gale? Have any of your countless books mentioned them?" His genuine interest betrays any attempt at teasing.

"Not much is said about them." Gale furrows his brows, his hand falling back down to his side. "They worship Lolth, the spider queen, but so do most drow. They were once drow, I do believe. As legend would have it, they were cursed by their goddess and given spider bodies. After, they were shunned from Menzoberranzan and lived across the Underdark in solitude. Logically, they should be like drow, but these ones aren't. They're entirely different creatures, with a language all their own. No other drider I've met has been like this."

That piques Astarion's interest. "You've met a drider before now? My, you certainly are a busy wizard, aren't you?"

It's so curious how Gale's face changes in rapid succession. First, a wave of panic overtakes him but then a fraction of a second later, his face is pinched with false bravado. He's lying, Astarion knows, just like he lied about how he knew Astarion was a vampire. It would fool anyone else, surely, but not him. Never him.

"Ah, I'd hardly call it a formal meeting! More an escort, really. He was in association with an organization I sought work with during my schooling. A kind fellow, but not very social. He spoke common and addressed others as people, even if his outlook on other beings may not have set us as equals. It's part of why I find these particular driders so intriguing."

Astarion considers calling him out on the little fib, but he decides against it ultimately. Like the vision they shared, the one with a different Tav and an ending to the world that has not come yet, Astarion files it away for later. Evidence he can use for another conversation.

With a smile, Astarion leans closer. "Lovely. So we've coupled ourselves with enigmatic driders. And you still think it's a good idea to stay here?"

"Of course. They may be unusual but they hold no ill will for us. Of that, I am sure."

"Fine. But if they attack us in the middle of the night, I'll hold you accountable."

"I'll be sure to cover my back along with my neck from now on."

The comment comes as a surprise to Astarion. It's a jab, he's sure. A comment meant to hurt him for his lowest moments in the drow prison. It does, but Astarion is nothing if not adaptable. He wipes all emotion from his face besides a rogue smirk and...Gale doesn't glare at him, or scowl. He's smiling in that way he does when he's taking the piss out of Astartion, but no malice has settled in his features.

He was joking...with no intent to harm.

Astarion must pause for too long because the smile quickly disappears. "What? You did try to kill me in my sleep, I know you did! My hair may be going grey but my memory is as sharp as ever!"

And just like that, the moment is gone.

"Don't let your panties in a twist, Darling. I've agreed to your little truce. Don't act surprised when a vampire's reputation rings true."

"Yes, I suppose you're right." The scowl Gale gives him is expected but for some reason, it turns Astarion's stomach. He regrets his words, but there's little he can do for it now. Instead, Astarion gets up and sits a ways away from both Gale and the driders.

He stares at nothing, his thoughts unusually clouded. Perhaps he's just hungry.

After some time, one of the younger driders creeps towards him and Gale, two ceramic bowls in hand. She sets them down in front of them, then retreats for another two bowls. The first are filled with the same bread from before and the second holds water. Astarion examines both closely, still unsure about this whole thing. The bread seems no different than before, but there's no way for him to know if the water has been purified or not. The mushrooms' glow doesn't do enough for Astarion to fully see if the water is clear either. For all he knows, this could be poisoned.

"What do you think, Wiz-" Astarion turns to see Gale already drinking from the bowl. "What are you doing?!" Astarion marches over to the wizard and pulls his bowl away. It's ridiculous, all of this is ridiculous! "Did you even check to see if it's drinkable?!"

Gale wipes his mouth as he gathers himself. "I...I wasn't thinking straight. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me, you're the one who's risking his health on drider water!" Astarion hisses. "Honestly, has all sense escaped you?!"

The man shakes his head, his brows knitted together. "It tasted fine. Perhaps touch earthy, but that's to be expected." Then, he relents. "But, you make a good point. I suppose dehydration got the better of me. A mistake I will not repeat."

"Well...good. You're the one who wanted to stay with these things, so you'll have to live through our stay with them. it's only fair." Astartion is quick to add, "And don't drink any more of this water! You'll get even more parasites."

Gale frowns up at him. "What else am I supposed to sustain myself on, then? It's not as if you have a safer alternative. Hunger I can live with for some time, but water is a key component to my continued survival. If I let myself go to waste I...I could..." Gale's words slow to a stop. He pauses, his eyes narrowing at nothing. Astarion watches him, only now noticing the way his pupils have blown wide.

Wordlessly, Gale grabs back the bowl and looks into it as if it held the world's greatest mysteries. Then, he grabs one of the mushrooms from the center, his eyes staring into it intensely. His pupils do not narrow at the light cast directly into his face.

"What?" Astarion finally cracks. "What is it?"

When Gale looks up at him, his entire body has gone sluggish and Astartion can already guess at what is happening. "I think...Gods, I can't think. Everything is...is moving. I feel light, sort of? Like magic feather. No, falling feather? Words...words."

Right. Amazing. Astarion really couldn't have hoped for something better than his only somewhat reliable ally to be drugged.

Crouching down so they're at eye level, Astarion speaks as clearly as he can. "Do we need to leave?"

"No, no." Gale waves a hand dismissively. "It's not that. I just feel...feel..."

"Intoxicated?"

It's as if a new and profound realization has hit Gale, then. His eyes widen and a smile stretches wide across his face. When he looks at Astarion, the vampire can tell all lights have been blown out inside that head of his. "Euphoric!"

And just like that, the wizard falls into a fit of giggles. It's a new sound, to be sure. Astarion can't recall if he's ever heard Gale laugh like this. Each giggle comes out in short bursts, the tone high and almost manic. It's slightly concerning, especially as he falls backward. But thankfully, the fit slows and Gale is left to stare at the ceiling of their shelter, his entire face still lit up with a smile. Whatever he's seeing, it must be good.

Astarion at least knows they aren't in danger of being poisoned now. He even starts to contemplate joining Gale in the high, but quickly decides against it. As much as he hates to be left out of such fun, someone needs to stay present. Besides, at least this has gotten Gale to stay quiet for an hour or two. He'll let the wizard ride out this drug, then they can talk properly about their plan going forward.

But one hour turns into two and Gale still hasn't moved. The occasional giggle fit will leave him, but he doesn't do much besides that, his mind entirely wiped of...well, everything really. The driders finish their own dinner and gather together in a pile for the night, the sounds of their sleep putting Astarion at ease. One less thing to worry about.

Gale's voice breaks the silence after some time. "Gods...I can't remember their face."

Astarion quirks an eyebrow. "Who, Darling?"

"Tav. I can't...I'm forgetting things. I'm forgetting." He starts to shake, all joy leaving in a flash as horror fills the wizard. Astarion stands. He's lived long enough to witness the paranoia heavy drugs like this can bring. Has experienced it himself on a few occasions, even. "Mystra save me, I can't remember!"

"Sh, sh," Astarion kneels at Gale's side and offers his arm as something for the human to grab onto. The shaking extends to Astarion's arm, the grip clammy. "You're alright. I'm...here for you." Comforting doesn't come naturally to Astarion and it has never been more frustrating than it is at this very moment. He never cared if someone else was falling into a panic, not past his own safety and the possibility of a murder falling on his hands. But now? Now, Astarion's heart clenches with the pain of seeing tears fall down Gale's cheeks.

The man doesn't seem to see anything at all as his eyes move frantically, never latching onto a single object for more than a half-second. His grip is tight, but it loosens every so often as his muscles spasm. Astarion holds him through it, his soft reassurances doing little to ease Gale's mutters- no, pleas to his goddess for help. "Mystra, save me," Gale chants, over and over in nothing more than a whispered sob.

Eventually, the mutters slow to a stop. Astarion continues to hold him as best he can, the silence passing over them with some reassurance that the worst of it is likely over. Then, a while later, Gale's eyes meet Astarion's properly. His pupils have shrunk to a natural size for this lighting and deep inside of them, the vampire can see awareness return.

Gale breathes out heavily as he sits up, a hand on his head. Astarion backs away from him, expecting to feel relief from losing so much contact but instead, he feels...colder.

It dawns on him then, that Astarion wasn't uncomfortable holding Gale. His skin didn't itch, nor did he need to force himself into staying there after the tears had stopped.

Astarion doesn't know what it means, but he shoves the discovery to the side for now. "Are you back on the mortal plane, Darling? We've certainly missed you." The flirting tone comes so naturally, he doesn't even notice it, but it feels wrong on his tongue. Too performed and ingenuine.

"I believe the drug has run its course, more or less," Gale confirms. "And it's safe to say that whatever water source these drider are drinking from is well and fully contaminated. It's no wonder why they've turned out how they did."

"Yes, that would explain things." Astarion throws a glance toward the driders. They haven't moved an inch since last time.

His focus returns to Gale, his smile growing. "Well, oh great plan-maker? What is our next course?" He can already guess what it'll be. Escaping the driders won't be hard, not when-

"We stay here for now."

Astarion blinks, then frowns. "You want to stay with a group of drugged-up driders? Why?"

"It's our safest way through the Underdark."

Something shifts in Astarion, a dark feeling beginning to settle in his chest. "That's not all. Why do you insist on staying with them?" All humor is gone, instead placed with a snide tone. "We did fine defending against the drow and whatever those birds were. So, why the need for protection all of the sudden?"

Gale seems surprised by the shift. "I...I'm not sure what you're referring to. I just told you my reasons-"

"Then give me another one. Tell me, other than for safety, why you want to stay around these creatures."

They sit in silence for a few long seconds. Then, Gale's eyes harden. "Astarion, I don't know what you're getting at. Speak plainly to me, if you want a specific answer."

So, he does. "When we first met them, you were overjoyed. You...liked the idea of being their pet, no?"

A dusting of pink colors Gale's cheeks. He laughs quickly as he rushes to answer. "It's nothing of the nature you're thinking, I assure you! I find this particular group captivating in its enigmatic qualities. And...well, perhaps I enjoy being pampered. I've always been one to enjoy the niceties of civilization. A warm-water bath, a glass of Waterdeep's best Cabernet Sauvignon red wine, and a good book in hand? No mortal has ever been so close to touching godhood than that with an evening such as that. The very word 'relaxation' is its definition."

Astarion almost can't believe him. Almost. "You are positively ridiculous, Gale of Waterdeep." The shift in topic is unexpected, but he finds himself leaning into it rather than demanding his answers. This is...comfortable again.

"I don't think it so strange." Gale defends. "I'm sure you'd enjoy something similar, wouldn't you? An evening out to the spa with a rich glass of your favorite blood. Even the undead must admit that is a blissful vision."

"I never said a spa day wouldn't be thoroughly enjoyed." Astarion smiles, already liking the thought of it. If he no longer had to worry about Cazador or the Underdark or illithid tadpoles, a spa day would be the perfect evening out. "I think you're ridiculous for implying these driders are even capable of giving us anything similar. Shit, they've already drugged you!"

A soft smile crosses over the wizard's face. "Ah, that you do have a point on. But even still, it isn't so bad. They've given us meals and that's more to say for any other creature in this abyss. And now I know to avoid their water. A step in the right direction, all things considered."

He doesn't have a response to that. Not one other than a roll of the eyes. "Fine. If you're so sure these drider can help us, then I'll tack along for the ride. But once you give the word, we're leaving."

"Of course." Gale smiles. "And perhaps I can look into harvesting fresh water from the lower hanging stalactites close by. If that doesn't work, then I may be forced to look into my memory for a water-conjuring spell, which I promise will be no easy feat."

"Good. You do that." Astarion nods, turning away. He lays out his tattered bedroll and settles himself on the opposite side of the glowing mushrooms from the drider. "I need rest and you've wasted enough of it already." If he adds a bit more whine to his voice than is necessary, no one mentions it.

"And perhaps if the driders have collected enough materials, I could craft one-"

"Good night, Gale!"

A pause, then a shuffling. "Good night, Astartion. And...thank you. For watching me."

Astarion can't bring himself to respond. Not when he can almost swear his chest fills with something foreign and his undead heart threatens to beat once again. He'll forget this ever happened by tomorrow and they will go back to their bickering. Just as things should be.

Notes:

Astarion has had it rough lately, so I figured I could let Gale have a hard time this chapter. It's only fair.

Chapter 10: Elminster

Notes:

Sorry for a later upload! This week has just flown by for me! I feel like it's just started and yet Thursday's creeped up on me!

While being awoken by a pack of disturbed driders petting him isn't the Gale's first choice in mornings, he can't say it's all together a bad one. Not compared to the mornings in most recent days past. They have the decency to be gentle with him at least, their claws kept carefully away from the skin underneath his hair. If he were to close his eyes and forget for a moment, he could almost imagine it being his Tav instead.

Almost, if not for the hardened exoskeleton of their hands and chittered coos.

The drider pack up what Gale assumes is their hunting supplies before they all go off into the darkness. The pair of them follow along just a few steps behind, the light of the drider's lantern doing well to keep the Underdark's naturally invasive fog from clouding their vision. It's almost like walking through the Shadow Lands, all things considered. Not a comforting thought, but a familiar one all the same.

Astarion stays quiet for most of the walk. Not unusual, but a little awkward after last night. He barely remembers anything of what his drugged mind created, only the overwhelming terror that gripped him near the end. The fear isn't the same now that he's recovered, but it is a concerning piece to all this that he must acknowledge at some point.

The fact his memories are beginning to blend together.

Unless Gale concentrates hard, he can't tell which adventures he went on with his Tav or the githyanki. Who did he destroy the Goblin Camp with? Who rejected him? That one is easy, but both tiefling parties mix in a confusing blob of drunk and smitten. It's gotten to a point where even his feelings for either Tav have been confused on more than one occasion, as small as those lapses are. Did he fall in love with the steel-grey eyes of a strong githyanki leader? Or was it the burning in a tiefling's stare?

He doesn't know and Gale of Waterdeep not knowing means he's losing his usefulness. Any advantage he had over this timeline will erase itself and he'll be sure to make the same mistakes again and again, trapped in a constant loop of dying by the orb and returning to the nautiloid. What if he never escapes it? What if this is the hell Mystra has damned him to?

He would deserve it, wouldn't he? If his goddess has inflicted this upon him-

"Oh, please." Astarion's voice breaks through the heavy clouds in his mind. "If you're going to think so loud, you might as well share with the class."

"Ah, apologies." Gale's shoulders lose some of their tension. "It's nothing to be concerned of. No stages of ceremorphosis or tentacles to speak of." Thankfully. He had worried for a short time that whatever kept them protected would lose its effect once he and Astarion left the Tav's proximity. Yet, no such thing has befallen them yet, so it's safe to assume they are still under the watchful eye of a greater power's works.

Astarion watches him a moment, then he stares ahead. "And your orb?"

"Sated for the time being. Though, I've been reduced to a single item now." Something Gale has kept a close eye on. He's already deprived his necklace and gloves of their magic and now, only his boots remain. The last item to his disposal before he has to go hunting for more, something he doesn't suspect will be easy in the Underdark's wastelands.

"I...can offer my own. If you need."

The kindness surprises Gale. Between two lives, he's only known Astarion to be selfish. He offers nothing without the expectation of something in return, and even those instances are rare to see. Every valuable item would go to him, as well as the pouches of gold. His Tav at least had the mind to make him their salesman of sorts, doing most of the buying and selling of items and then handing out said items to those who would benefit most from them. A trust exercise, as they had claimed.

But this feels different. There is no deal being made or any clear ask of Gale thus far. If Gale didn't know better, he would say this sounds like an offer given out of the pure care in Astarion's cold heart.

Skepticism takes hold. "And what would you want in return? We are even in terms of debt if I remember correctly."

Astarion's eyes narrow into a sly smile. He's hiding something. "Oh, you still have a few favors to pay me back for, but those I will save for later."

"What favors?" Gale asks, struggling to remember when they had fallen out of balance. He was careful to make sure-

"It doesn't matter." Astarion waves the topic off like a hovering gnat. "The point is, I'm willing to let you take my magic if it means we both survive. Can't have that orb of yours killing us before I can get another good meal."

Gale doesn't give into it so easily. "I have a hard time believing that is your only motivation."

Astarion's piercing canines obtrude just beneath his sneer. "Well, excuse me for trying to be nice. Can't a vampire offer something out of the kindness in his heart?"

"If this truly is an offer of kindness, then I greatly appreciate it, but I simply don't believe that's all you're asking. Is it wrong for a wizard to be cautious of someone known to pull debts nearly as often as a devil?"

A mock gasp and a dramatic hand over his chest. "How dare you! I will have you know I am much better than any devil or demon! I don't need horns and extravagant wings to look this good, Darling."

Gale knows it's an act when Asatrion finishes off with a wink and a lick at his lips. Obviously Astarion isn't going to be honest with him at the moment, so he puts the matter aside for the time being. "Fine. If I need to call upon the graces of your charity, I will take your offer."

"Good boy."

Gale ignores everything those words do to him and he marches ahead.

It doesn't take long for them to find food. It does come in the form of a minotaur, but the driders are exceptionally skilled in their chosen weapons. They fall the half-beast quickly and strap its corpse to their hides with little fanfare. It drags behind them as they continue on. Gale hasn't tried Minotaur before, but he can imagine it tastes of beef. The half-human aspect does put him off enough to consider looking for his own meal, however.

They head back now and Gale scours the immediate area for anything he could take down fairly easily that is not a humanoid. He sees nothing among the rocks and stones, not even the scutter of a rat.

It's disheartening, but Gale knows how to take a loss. He'll eat whatever bread is leftover, but after his...mishap with their water, he feels a little less sure of the food quality given to him. At the very least, he should watch the driders as they cook.

Just as Gale has given up his hunt, a figure crosses into his line of sight. He stops, his eyes narrowed toward that figure. Tall humanoid...he thinks? The frame appears human, male even, but the top is pointed upwards like...

Like a wizard's hat!

"Elminster?!" Gale stares as the wizard himself comes into the light. And there he is, Elminster. The same white beard and wrinkled face he recalls from ages past. He's here and hopefully with some messages and a spot of magic to aid him with his orb.

Before Elminster can respond, the drider attack. One hisses as she surges forward and slashes across the wizard's chest, her blade making a good cut into his flesh.

"No, no!" Gale jumps in front of her, which is a horrendous idea in most circumstances, including this one, but she stops before her second attack can land. "He's my friend!" To make a point of it, he stands shoulder-to-shoulder with Elminster. "See? My friend!"

She looks between them, unconvinced. Then, she chitters and lowers her weapon, standing guard not three feet away.

It's good enough for now. Elminster won't be staying long anyway.

"Right, sorry about that. They usually aren't so aggressive and- Oh! Let me help you!" He holds his hands to the open wound on Elminster's chest, anxiety fueling him to work quickly in search of a healing potion. "I should have something for that, if you just give me a moment-"

Elminster steps away, leaving Gale's hand to fall by his side again. "Bah, you needn't waste your medicines on the likes of me, my boy. It's nothing more than a scratch. Besides, I come for much more than a friendly visit. One does not traverse the endless caves and tunnels of the Underdark for a hearty dinner among friends. I come with the upmost importance!" He's irritated, that much is clear, but Gale can do little about it at this moment.

"Yes, yes, of course. My sincerest apologies. Now, what have you for me, oh dearest friend of mine?" Gale smiles perhaps a little too widely, but how can he help it? This is the exact moment he's waited for since waking from the nautiloid! The very moment he learns of his mission and the key to his final act. Besides, if Mystra truly needs him in the Moonrise Towers, perhaps she has a way to teleport the pair of them there? Wishful thinking, but he has a right to hope.

The wizard chews on his words, his eyes narrowed at Gale. Elminster takes his time observing the others behind him as well, his suspicion hardly concealed. It's then, in that pause, that Gale notices the lack of blood on Elminster's chest. The wound is still there, gaping for all the world to see, but no blood.

In fact, as Gale looks further, he notices that red muscle is not visible at all. No, inside of that cut is a crossing of the very strings of the Weave, it's magic working to tie the wound closed. It zips with blues and purples alike, the brilliant display of colors giving way to a pit that forms in Gale's stomach.

"You're not Elminster." He says, not caring that it interrupts the wizard mid-sentence. "You're...No. No! He sent a construct?! A clone of himself instead of...I can't believe that." Betrayal and rage dance in his gut like old lovers. "That bastard weasel didn't even bother showing up himself?! He's in his tower, isn't he?! Likely nibbling on fine cheeses and enjoying the splendors of his tower back in Waterdeep!"

Astarion steps to his side, not touching but present all the same. He doesn't say anything, simply stands there.

Gale takes the comfort it brings, but it does little to stop him from pointing an accusing finger at Elminster's chest. "You are a coward! I'm surprised you were ever one of Mystra's Chosen, you lazy-"

"My word, Gale! Have your manners completely evaded you in your time away from Her Goddess?!" Not-Elmisnter sputters.

"I have no manners for-" Gale stops himself.  He has an audience and while Astarion may not be new to this side of him, Gale would prefer if he didn't make a bigger fool of himself in front of the vampire. Furthermore, the faster they get this over with the sooner Elminster's clone can leave. He breathes out a harsh breath through his nose, then allows his tempter to cool. "Just...get on with it. Speak your message."

Elminster does just that but with a glare of his own. In the first timeline, it might've made Gale feel like a child being scolded by his teacher, but he is not the man he was then. He knows what Mystra will ask of him and has already followed through. Elminster and his constructs mean little at this point.

"She has sent me, Gale. You know of whom I speak."

"Mystra, yes. And?"

His eyes narrow further. "You would do greatly to respect your Goddess's name, young man. Has your fall from Her graces not humbled you enough?"

Gale takes another deep breath. Of all the people to try his patience, another Chosen is the worst of his options. "I meant no disrespect. It seems my patience has been run dry from the perils of the Underdark."

"Hm. Yes, well, you would do kindly to show restraint. Now, for my message...well, you see...uh..." A sigh. "I speak these words not only as a former Chosen of Mystra, but as your friend. My sending a construct does not diminish its severity. Know that first an foremost." A pause settles between them before the wizard finally, finally starts.

Gale listens to Elminster prattle on and around the subject. He's little in the mood for good faith in an already faint friendship, especially considering the message. It's the same as before, nearly word for word. He brings a message from Mystra about the Absolute's power and a way for Gale to detonate the orb at will. Yes, yes, he knows all of this already.

His spirits do lift, albeit minusculely, when Elmister starts to cast the very spell that will allow Gale control of the orb. The Weave builds around him as the incantation starts, Mystra's power falling upon him for the first time since...well, since last lifetime. It creates a barrier around the orb, one that will be at his whim, should he choose to use it. When he does.

But once it's done, Elminster starts his parting words. Gale stops him quickly. "Wait, that's it?"

The construct blinks. "What else were you expecting? Mystra has given you this single duty and she was clear that no other words of love or sorrow were to be given along with it. This is her redemption for you. Your only chance to win her forgiveness."

"Yes, I know that but...is that really all? No mention of what exactly I should do between now and then? Any changes to come or-"

Elminster looks on with sad eyes. "Young Man, you seek for what will not be there. This is all Mystra has for you."

Gale's stomach twists. "I see. Well...ah, good day, Elminster. I'm sure the real you will have a fine evening up in your tower." He can't even find it within himself to sound bitter. Not when everything is crashing down around him.

Mystra did not send him back. But if Mystra didn't, who did? What did? Why is he here again, reliving not only his past life but a new one with even worse torment than before? A different Tav and a new mission to return to the surface? Why has any of this happened?

He was dead and should've stayed that way. To die for Mystra was his duty and he did it, so why is he here? Hasn't he already fulfilled what he must? Fate has called and called again, the same answer is given to his questions. Gale of Waterdeep was to destroy the Absoulte and he did! He pulled together the strength he needed and did it! He killed his Tav, and Shadowheart, and Karlach, Wyll, Lae'zel, Halsin, and-

Astarion. He killed Astarion before the vampire could know what true freedom tasted like and that fact alone weighs heavy on Gale's heart.

"Who the bloody hells was that?!" Astarion's voice breaks through Gale's mind, a beam of light through fog. It's ironic, given the vampire's downright pissy tone.

When Gale looks up again, Elminster is gone. It's just him, Astarion, and the thoroughly confused drider.

"...No one," Gale mutters, his feet already taking him back to the drider as they start on their walk again. "No one worth mentioning, anyway." Gale hopes Astarion will understand and drop the matter. He doesn't want to think about this any more than he did the first time. It makes him sick just recalling his companions' faces before he...before they were all lost to time.

Sadly, Astarion holds firm. "Obviously not, telling by the way he spoke to you." The vampire clicks his tongue. His eyebrow twitches just slightly but Gale can't quite gather what it means. He's no longer scowling, but this new mood is somewhere stuck between dramatic and pissed. "And that message he gave you? Why would a powerful and mighty Goddess need you, a mere mortal wizard, to blow himself up for her sake? It seems rather cowardly if you ask me-"

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Gale stops him quick, the very words turning his blood cold. If Mystra has heard such a thing...no. No, he's safe. Astarion is the one who said those words, not he. Mystra can't punish him for his fool of a friend's words.

Taking a deep breath, Gale meets Astarion with a steel gaze. "I've had quite enough of the subject, Astarion. There is plenty for me to ponder on without you pestering me about my relations. And please, by the gods themselves, do not call Mystra a...a coward!"

Astarion's body shifts. Several of those bloody, impenetrable walls go up as he rolls his eyes, back to his petulant self. "Fine, Darling. The mysterious Gale of Waterdeep shall remain just that a moment longer. But the curiosity will simply kill me...again." He smiles and Gale knows it's dishonest. Something else is happening behind those ruby eyes but Gale has no patience to read them.

"She has her reasons. I know that better than most of her followers, least of all you." Gale adds it on sternly.

Nothing changes in Astarion's expression besides the slight strain of his mouth. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Only once he's sure Astarion is done does Gale turn to leave. He might've just ruined any progress they've gathered in not hating each other, but he can't bring himself to care much at the moment. Elminster's words, or the lack of words really, ring in his mind. His mission is twisted and distorted by the confusion of his future and past. He feels lost and alone with even fewer companions to aid him, not that they really understood his reasons to begin with.

He must find who sent him back and soon, otherwise he may be doomed to repeat his mistakes. If only he had a devil to call upon.

Chapter 11: Truth

Notes:

Quick snack break for anyone binging this story! Go hydrate and come back!

They never stay at one shelter for long. The driders seem keen on moving along at a leisurely but steady pace. Gale hasn't the slightest clue where they're heading, but the slow appearance of what looks like Sussur roots gives him a hopeful sign that it's in the right direction. The stone caves from before have started to lead into wider expanses of land more similar to the surface's rocks and dirt. Mushrooms of various types appear every so often, but nowhere near as many as around the Myconid Colony.

Their travels have led them to a fallen village of sorts, long forgotten homes and the traces of a past civilization echo across each stone cut and placed. Gale studies them as they come for the night, his interest positively ensnared by the history it tells. Vases made of dark red pottery and uniquely shaped metal tools make for a once-domestic image of those who lived here. Painted pictures in both worship and record-keeping fill each home.

It's all beyond fascinating.

"-a whole society that's been wiped from the face of the Earth! Or, rather, below the face. Only these books tell of their names, languages, and records. Should we had not found this, then this entire race might as well have never existed! Bipedal creatures that have adopted the drow's matriarchy but formed in a system supportive of a kobold's mindset of worship! Oh, what I wouldn't give just to speak to these creatures. To learn what they thought and felt before both were taken from us."

Gale sits beside Astarion, his eyes cast upward at a beautifully painted mural on one of the temple's walls. He holds an old, dusty book in one hand, the words too foreign to read but compelling enough for Gale to try.

The mural shows one of the former natives riding through the water, a lantern in their hand. Waves of water are painted below them but other squiggles have been depicted above as well, coming from off the mural itself. Gale can't make much of it, besides their fishing culture; and that he had already guessed by the nets that cover their homes and the lines of wooden boats still bobbing in the lake nearby, barnacles and algae covering the undersides.

Gale suddenly turns to Astarion, feeling wistful. "What of you, Astarion? Have you seen civilizations form and crumble in the years you've been a vampire?"

The man laughs, the tone high and rich. It's genuine and unguarded, for the most part. "I'm not quite that old, Darling. Two hundred years may seem a long time for a human, but it certainly isn't much in terms of societies forming." Astarion sits back on his hands, his eyes also cast upwards toward the painting. The faint glow of mushrooms casts a green light over Astarion's features, his eyes surprisingly round in his relaxed state. His eyebrows are no longer pinched sharply as Gale has known them to be. Instead, they rise higher on his face, making him appear younger somehow.

A sudden question burns on Gale's tongue.

"Besides," Astarion continues. "I stayed in Baldur's Gate for all of my time. This little adventure of ours has been quite the change of scenery-"

"How old were you?" Gale asks, his voice low and soft. Astarion stops, turning to him in shock.

Gale expects the walls to come up, for the conversation to be derailed and pointed elsewhere with a snide comment. It's deserved, really. But to his surprise, Astarion's eyes don't leave Gale's. It's intimate, more so than he expected to be allowed, but it's much preferred over a door slammed in his face.

"I don't remember," Astarion says. "It's been too long and...well, I never really kept count. Not with everything else inflicted upon me."

They haven't had this conversation yet. About Astarion's master and the years of torture he went through. That was something the last life's Astarion had trusted to them; and really, mostly to Tav. The discussion was between them, Gale just happened to have listened in at that moment.

Something changes in Astarion's eyes, then. They narrow but not in anger or suspicion but accusation. A chill runs down Gale's spine and he dreads the next words that leave the vampire's mouth.

"You know something, don't you." Astarion states, not asks. "I haven't mentioned it before, but when certain things happen you...how to put this...it seems as if nothing is, well, new to you. Like when you spoke about knowing I'm a vampire before even the first night."

Shit! Shit, he's been caught!

"Um, I don't-" Gale tries to salvage any of this that he can but Astarion interrupts.

"Ah, ah, ah! I'm not done." The elf smiles now, his lips curling up with a sly confidence. "Tell me, Gale. How did you know we just needed to go into the Underdark? Or that tiefling I saw in your dreams? Who was that exactly, because it most certainly wasn't the Tav I know. You had a vision of the future, Gale. One with me in it."

Gale shakes his head quickly. "It's a message from my Goddess! Nothing more, I swear-"

"Oh, but is it? If that were the case, then how would you already know the message your little wizard friend was going to give you? Yes, I did notice that, Darling. You were practically leaping off your feet in anticipation. One doesn't do that if he isn't awaiting something he knows will benefit him. At least, you wouldn't."
Gale's mouth opens and closes uselessly. There is no defense he can think of. "And you wanted something more from him too. What was it you were so eagerly waiting for your Goddess to tell you? Other than to kill yourself in her honor?" He spits the word like venom.

There is no use, Gale realizes. Astarion has gathered evidence. He's watched him through all of their time together. Gale can't talk his way out of this no matter how badly he wants to.

So, Gale admits, for the first time, the fullness of his knowledge. "You're right. I do know more than I let on and it's not given to me by Mystra. I know quite a deal about all of our companions in fact. I knew Shadowheart was a follower of Shar, that she lost her memories in the false promise that she would regain them in Baldur's Gate. I know Lae'zel currently follows the will of a false lich queen. Well, she and Tav both, I suppose." He can't imagine how Tav may react to that information. Or if she will make the right choice for both of them by leaving Vlaakith.

Dear gods, he hopes so.

"I also know that Karlach's engine, while possible to repair, is incapable of functioning outside of Avernus. She will die to it, should she stay in Faerûn. And Wyll! He was manipulated into a pact with a demon who wants nothing more than to use him for her own personal gain."

Astarion stares at him, his ever-present mask just starting to slip. "How..."

"I know about Cazador," Gale says, softly. "I know what he did to you and what those infernal markings say. The ones he carved into your back."

Astarion's eyes go wide and his mouth falls open in awe. Emotions cross the man's fast too quickly to catch, traces of shock mixed with anger, then possibly apprehension? For a long while, Astarion doesn't say a word, his mind visibly working overtime to try and understand it all. To know exactly what this means for him, and for Gale.

Eventually, Astarion breaks the silence with a shake of his head. "Before...before you tell me what they say- and you will tell me-" He says it as both a threat and a promise. "-I want to know how you've acquired so much knowledge. Said it wasn't your Goddess? Then who? Who told you all of this?"

Gale sucks in a breath, preparing himself for how Astarion may react. "It was no person, I assure you. No deals or pacts to speak of. I know all of this because I lived it." He pauses, then continues once Astarion has gotten a chance to let it sink in. "Waking up in the nautiloid, finding our companions, defeating the Goblins- all of it. I've already seen it all and more. We fought beside Tav all the way to Moonrise Towers, where I met my expected and inevitable end by the orb in my chest." He rubs at the circle of markings it's made. He no longer feels the hunger, but the phantom pain still holds strong.

"You...how?" Astarion gapes. "How did you live all of this if it hasn't even happened yet?"

"Isn't that just the thing? It has happened, just not for you. I have been lifted from a point in our future to a time in our past and now I relive every moment as if it were the same." Gale hesitates. "Pardon, almost the same. There are...differences. Significant ones that I cannot explain for the life of me."

Astarion's eyes shine with understanding. "Like Tav."

"Like Tav." Gale nods. "The Tav I knew was a tiefling paladin who swore their life to avenge the weak and kill the evil. They were my...my lover." The words take Gale by the throat. He doesn't feel the press of hot tears or the urge to shut himself away. Instead, he feels the need to tell Astarion everything, every single detail he's lived through. It's anomalous and unnerving. Why does he feel this? He hadn't felt this towards his own Tav at the height of their romance.

Logically, he shouldn't trust Astarion at all. The vampire has sworn to kill him as soon as they reach the surface. And yes, Gale knows that unlikely to happen now, but he can hardly call them friends...right? Have they really progressed so far without him even realizing it? When did he become comfortable around Astarion? When did he seek that comfort?

"Then you knew we would be captured by the drow?" The shock of it all has started to wear off for Astarion, it seems. "And you still chose to lead us into the Underdark?"

Gale can't help but laugh. "Ah, no. No, this was one of the few changes. Originally, we swept through the Underdark with little more than a few cuts and scrapes, then continued to the Shadow Lands as Halsin told us to. This entire escapade of ours has been a massive deviation."

Astarion looks away, amusement in his features. "Good. At least you have the common sense not to walk us into avoidable danger." Then, his face falls. Red eyes narrow and Astarion's brows pinch as he glares ahead. "But we still die in the end, don't we? We go out in a blaze of fire, taking the evil Absolute with us?"

"More an uncontrolled burst of Netherese Weave, but yet. We die." Gale can already feel the fear start to settle inside of him. Despite having done it once, he still dreads arriving at the Moonrise Towers.

It wasn't always like that, right? Just before they fell into the lower layers of the Underdark, Gale had been all but eager to meet his end. He wanted to rush them along and simply get it over with. But now? Now, he's terrified to lose what he has, as little as it is.

But it's pointless to try and hold on longer. He has to remind himself of that.

"What if you didn't blow us up?" Astarion's voice is surprisingly light, a false nonchalance to it. "Besides, who's to say it wouldn't send you back to the beginning? You wouldn't want to risk that, would you?"

Gale knows he's only trying to save himself, but it still grates on his nerves. "I don't know who sent me back or why, but I do know that there is no other way to stop the Absolute from spreading. Kethric Thorm is an unbeatable foe and he isn't alone either. There are powers at work far larger than anything we've witnessed thus far and this orb is the only way to ensure all of it stays dead."

This time, the thought of regaining Mystra's good graces comes second to everything else. No longer does he use the excuse of heroic self-sacrifice to hide behind his yearning to return to Mystra's side. No, this time, he thinks of all the Absolute may do should he fail. He thinks of the tadpoles and what it would mean for them if they complete ceremorphosis and become proper Mind Flayers.

They would cease to be themselves entirely and somehow, that fate is far more terrifying than killing himself. The thought of Astarion, changed past recognition and forced to endure being another master's puppet all because Gale was too afraid to do what he must? It makes him nauseous just thinking about it.

This expression, Gale can read. Furrowed brows but round eyes. Lips twisted in a grimace but a relaxed jaw. Astarion is open, the words of his pages not quite pointed for Gale to read, but in sight, if he wanted to try. An invitation for something more personal, should he dare to accept it.

"Well, then." Astarion's voice is low but not unkind. For once, he treats the gravity of their situation with the respect it deserves. "I suppose if we're all going to die anyway, I might as well die knowing what that bastard carved into my back."

He's always been among the strongest in their party, a fact Gale now realizes he was jealous of. Scrolls upon scrolls of spells have always felt second to the pure power Astarion holds with nothing more than two daggers, his crossbow, and sharp canines. He's pulled his Tav out of more tricky situations than Gale himself, not to mention his skills as a locksmith. Never once has Astarion been left behind for another member's usefulness.

Yet, Gale has never felt as important as in his time in the Underdark, fighting for their lives.

"I must warn you," Gale says, "it may not be better for you to know."

Astarion does not waver. "Tell me anyway."

Gale is the one to look away this time. "It's a contract of sorts, written in the Infernal language. It binds you to Cazador as a tool for his plans." A breath, then he continues. "It's a ritual that will let Cazador ascend past his limitations as a vampire. He will be stronger, more powerful than any other before him. He would be able to walk in the sun unharmed and enter any home he wished. A ritual that requires you and the rest of his spawn as a sacrifice."

Astarion doesn't hiss or cry out in anger. Instead, he simply hums to himself, his face once again guarded. Gale gives him as much time as he needs. Gods knows he needs it. "So, it really won't matter, will it. I can't take the fight to Cazador, even if I thought we could win. Which, I don't. He's much too powerful and walking back into that hell hole will only grant him what he needs to finish the ritual. And with your whole blowing up thing...well, it hardly seems fair."

"We've been handed the same poor hand, then." Gale agrees. "Death will have us regardless of what we do. Only, one option reduces the suffering for others while the other leaves it all up to chance. If I activate the orb and destroy the Absolute, Cazador will be without his last piece. The ritual will remain incomplete and Baldur's Gate will be left with a single vampire and his spawns instead of one ascended."

"I...suppose so." There's something in Astarion's tone that makes Gale think he isn't entirely convinced. He's about to ask what he means, but Astarion stands suddenly. "Well, I've had about enough of this touchy conversation. I'm absolutely ravenous and I doubt these driders have captured me a meal." He steps away from the mural, away from Gale. His hair bounces and his hips sway, unaffected by the revelation that was bestowed upon him just a moment ago. It'll bother him, Gale knows. This isn't the last of their discussion over their destiny, but it's over for now.

He watches Astarion go. Just like that, all of his secrets have been laid bare. Every last card in his hand has been set in play and Gale can't say he regrets it. In fact, it's a relief to finally have someone else to count on fully. Someone else who understands the things he must do and shares the sentiment, hopefully.

Gale spends his evening looking out at the water, a drider sat behind him as she pets his head slowly. He's grown used to the treatment by this point, now expecting to feel a bony hand touch his head or a series of coos whenever he does something. It's slightly flattering, all things considered. Gale can't remember a time when he's been adored like this, not even with his Tav.

If only it could be like this forever. If only he didn't have to view each moment with the lens of dread. It makes these moments too bittersweet for his taste. He's a dying man living his last moment. Each step takes him closer to the end but he can't stop going forward. He can't force his feet to just stop for a moment and let him breathe.

When Astarion returns, he has traces of blood across his face and a wide smile. He settles in away from the drider and falls into trance without a thought of what Gale might do to him in such a vulnerable state.

It's too jarring to think about this late. Gale settles back against the drider and he falls into a fitful sleep. Dreams of the past wake him every few hours, the image of a former Astarion looking at him with betrayal...it weighs on him. But mercy comes in the form of a cold hand on his shoulder, firm and strong. Flashing eyes and sand-white teeth.

Maybe...Maybe he doesn't need to carry this alone anymore.

Chapter 12: Songs

Notes:

The more research I do about Mystra's lore, the more I really hate her. Not really spoilers for the chapter, just a note.

"The mouse cried in terror, cornered on all sides; then in came it's savior, by law it abides."

In all honestly, Gale forgot about Raphael. But now that the devil is standing before him in his human shape, all cocked brows and smug looks, Gale can't say he missed it in the least.

"Gods!" Astarion curses from where he's standing a little ways away. They had been looking intently at what Gale hoped was a telescope of sorts when they were rudely interrupted. Not that it matters much. Even if the metal cylinder were a telescope, there's no hope of him seeing anything through the thick darkness cast all around them. "Oh, it's you." Astarion straightens, his nonchalance merely a facade. Well, mostly a facade. Astarion was never one to be intimidated by devils.

"I will admit, your presence is unexpected." Gale addresses Raphael casually. "Well, what have you for us? I assume you haven't joined us for the pure thrill of adventure."

Something flashes in Raphael's eyes and Gale is set on high alert. This can't be good.

Of course, the devil can't answer him directly. "How bleak and desolate a land as this." Raphael looks around, scrutinizing the very ground they stand on. "Though, it seems you've survived quite well, all things considered. Tell me, how did the drow treat you? I've heard they have quite the hospitality. That is, for other drow."

Astarion scoffs. "Oh goody, you've been watching us. What do you want, devil? Those drider aren't nearly as friendly as the drow were." To make a point, he gestures to the group behind them.

It has little effect. "Ha!" Raphael guffaws. "Please, vampling, those things are hardly more of a threat than you are. But-" He claps his hands together with a sharp movement. "-I am a busy man and have little time for idle banter. I've come on behalf of Tav. We've struck a deal, you see. The death of a certain devil in the Gauntlet of Shar in exchange for your safe return to her camp. A favor for a favor, really."

"Ah, Yurgir." Gale nods, more reminding himself than anything.

Raphael's smile twists upward, something...well, devilish spreading over his features. "Right! You've done this all before, haven't you, Wizard? To you, this is all another run-through. Quite boring, I can imagine. I wonder who might've caused it..."

Gale frowns. It's not unexpected but he should've guessed before now that Raphael would be watching close enough to catch on. Hells, he might've learned by Gale's own words last night. He was so careful to begin with. How did it all fall apart?

"Oh, you didn't mean to keep it a secret, did you?"

"Enough partizing." Gale crosses his arms. "Who sent me back, Raphael? I'll make a deal if I must." He can feel Astarion's eyes on his back but they go ignored. Astarion had done the same for his own secrets, surely he wouldn't disapprove if Gale did the same. It would only be hypocritical.

Even so, Astarion's presence is strong behind him, as if he were a bodyguard. It gives Gale strength.

Raphael waves them off as if they were pleading children. "It would be useless. By the time I fulfill this deal, you will already know. But why don't I offer this: knowledge for knowledge? Tell me everything you know about Karsus and I'll tell you who sent you for a loop."

"Karsus?!" Gale blinks. To speak of this...Mystra would be furious with him. Handing over such information to a devil could spell disaster for all users of magic, should Raphael be plotting something against his Goddess. But...but he needs this information. More, perhaps, than he needs Mystra's approval.

After all, she's already ordered his death twice. He's earned this one instance of selfishness.

So, Gale swallows back his questions and answers as best he can. "He...was not simply an archwizard, but the archwizard. The child-who-would-be-a-god, the elves called him. With a single spell, he sought to usurp the very mantel of godhood over all the Weave. A mistake, of course. How could one destroy the very goddess of magic with magic itself? His failure killed him and destroyed all of Netheril."

Raphael's face gives nothing in way of his thoughts. "And what do you know of the Crown of Karsus?"

Shock rolls over Gale's shoulders like ice water. "The what?!"

"Ah, it seems I've said too much." He smirks even still, clearly proud of himself. But before Gale can ask more, Raphael is moving on. "I'm sure you're familiar with Jergal? The former Lord of the End of Everything! Well, it seems he's set his divine powers upon your fate. A mistake you made in your previous life has forced his hand and he sent you back to correct it."

Gale shakes his head of the crown and focuses on what Raphael says now. He can get to...that, another time. "Jergal? Why- well, you just told me why, but...but what have I done wrong?"

"I know not, Wizard." Raphael all but shrugs. "But I trust you'll find your answers once you've returned to camp. After all, you've made a quite personal friend of the Lord. Though, he goes by another name, if I am correct. Withers, is it?"

Withers is Jergal?!

"It...seems I have much more to learn." Gale can hardly believe it; but once it's been pointed out to him, it makes complete sense. Withers, the odd undead who joined them for no real reason that Gale could discern. The very being who vaguely spoke of his own powers and their origins. He could call upon hirelings for his Tav and raise those who died. All powers that would slot perfectly into that of Jergal's position.

"Knowledge will come in time. Until then-" Raphael's voice cuts in. "-the Grymforge lies not far beyond this very lake." He gestures to the seemingly endless body of water behind him. "There, you will find your way to the surface. Two day's worth of travel is surely feasible for the likes of you. After all, you have the boats already."

That is true. Several old boats line the shore of the lake, all in various states of disrepair.

"I bid you adieu!" Raphael bows. "I will be watching." And with a puff of red magic, he's gone.

It only gives Gale so much comfort.

"I think he likes us." Astarion tilts his head to the side, a playful smile on his lips.

Gale nearly laughs. "That is certainly a way of seeing it."

---

They make quick work of repairing what flaws they can see on the nearest boat. The rest have either rotten away from the water or hold too many barnacles to be sure. This one, Gale can cast a handful of Mending spells and hope for the best. So long as it floats, he cares little for anything else.

It's only once Astarion has gathered their things into the middle of the boat and prepares to send them off with a supply of purified mushroom water and cooked meat from his kill last night that the driders catch onto their plans. The group crawls close, their own supplies set up for another long day of travel.

"What do they want?" Astarion asks, suspicion in his voice.

"I may have an idea." Gale reaches out with Detect Thoughts. He hears the youngest drider chitter and in her thoughts comes the command for them to continue on and leave the old boats be. It's not unlike the way Gale himself has spoken to his cat in Waterdeep.

Gale's heart grows heavy with the bittersweet taste of a goodbye. He shakes his head at the drider, pointing to the lake beyond. The drider shakes her head in return and motions more insistently back towards them. Again, he simply points to the lake.

Past the increasingly frustrated gestures and clicks of the young drider, the oldest of the pack seems to realize what he means. With a solemn look, he touches the young one's shoulder and pulls back. She looks up in confusion, then understanding as he tells her in their own language.

Tears fall from her face. She shakes her head quickly, her arm still reaching out for them. Gale understands the pain well, so he grants her the mercy of a proper pardoning. He walks forward and pulls her palm to his hair, allowing her to pet him one last time.

She does so but her crying doesn't stop. The other young drider bites his wobbling lip and joins her. The older three look on with sad acceptance, their dark eyes holding a surprising amount of respect for him.

It reminds Gale of when he last saw Tara, a thought he quickly discards in fear of shedding a few tears himself.

Once she's done petting him, the drider reaches out for Astarion as well. Gale sees how it makes the vampire bristle and the two of them share an intense look. "I suppose you want me to give my farewell too?" Astarion's voice shows his steel nerve. He does not want to be touched any more than he did when they first met the driders.

"You don't have to," Gale tells him.

Astarion blinks. "But she's crying." He gestures to the sobbing drider, who's fallen to her...knees isn't the right word, but whatever she has adjacent to that. Either way, she cries in plea to pet Astarion as well but she's held back by the older drider.

"It's not up to her," Gale says. "If you don't want to be touched then you will not. So long as that is your choice."

It hurts to see how surprised Astarion looks. He knows little of what happened over those two hundred years, but it doesn't take perfect knowledge to see the power Cazador dangled over his spawn, like a master over his dog. Astarion's word meant nothing, less than nothing even. He was likely forced into silence as he endured the worst that torture has to offer.

But Gale will let him have better than that. Even if it's the least he can do, Gale will respect Astarion's wishes. The man deserves it after everything.

"Really?" Astarion is still skeptical, and again, it hurts.

"If you're ready to go, we can." He says instead of repeating himself. "Are you?"

After a pause, Astarion answers. "Yes..." He's still unsure, but he eases as Gale walks towards the boat. With one last wave to the driders, the two of them push the boat into the water. Gale climbs in first, then Astarion after him. They float out a little ways before Astarion grabs the oars and starts to push them further into the darkness, the light of Gale's cantrip guiding them along.

No water floods the bottom of their boat, nor does it tip them into the freezing lake. A single mercy offered to them and Gale takes it readily.

The driders slowly fade out of view as the darkness closes in around them. All things considered, Gale can say he enjoyed the time they spent together, even if he spent it as their pet human. They wouldn't have gotten so far unharmed without them and for that, he will always be grateful.

But more monsters lie ahead and until they make it to the inn, Gale will dedicate himself to their protection, just as he knows Astarion will. Together, they will be strong. Together.

---

When they were sailing before, things had been awkward and tense. They hardly spoke to each other; and when they did, the words were clipped and impatient.

Now, Gale feels no tension. Their limited space is an unfortunate development, but one they will both deal with. They make conversation and work together near seamlessly. Strange what only a handful of days can do to a pair.

"If I may ask," Gale starts. Once he's gotten Astarion's attention, he continues. "Back in the tavern, you came up with the name Sebastion rather quickly. Is it someone you knew?"

Astarion looks away, contemplating. "I...yes, but we weren't close if that's what you're wondering. Sebastion was one of the first people I...Cazador made me seduce. I hardly recall anyone else's names after all this time, but Sebastion has stuck with me. Must've been his innocence. He had never been kissed before." His voice softens as he speaks and Gale remains silent out of respect. "He's dead now. Likely siphoned of all his blood the very day I delivered him."

He doesn't give pity because he knows Astarion wouldn't want it. Instead, Gale lets the vampire gather himself and return the question. "And you? You used a name as well, and if you assumed mine came from a person I knew, then it would only be right for me to do the same."

Gale nods. "You would be correct. I used a variant of my good friend's name, Tara. A Tressym I summoned as a boy. She was at my side as I was called upon to be Mystra's Chosen, then after as well. I spent a long time in isolation, my only company being a steady run of self-depreciation and this very orb." He touches his chest through his robes. "She found me magical items to consume and kept me from spiraling into a further mess than I was. I will forever be in her debt."

"A Tressym?" Astarion asks.

"Ah, a variant of a cat! She has the most lovely streaks of color in her brown fur and elegant wings at her sides!"

Astarion's face falls into amusement. "Your best friend was a flying cat?"

"Tressym." Gale reminds with a touch of sternness. "I assure you, the two could not be more different. While they may have similar make up in body and appearance, the mind is what really puts them apart. A cat is a fine and proud creature, but a Tressym has the wit of the best wizards and the magical prowess as well! They're magnificent beasts with perhaps a tad more sass than is good for them. Tara never cared for teasing dogs, but she did always love herself a good pigeon to chase and devour."

He can remember it all. Summoning her for the first time, despite his mother's insistence that they would not be getting any pets. She was a close friend and treated him well, even if she sided with his mother more often than not. She kept him eating and hydrated.

"Gods, it's been so long since I last saw her." Gale fights the sorrow that pulls at him. "I do hope she's kept well over all this time."

"I'm sure she's quite fine." Astarion reassures him. He's relaxed and open, something that's becoming more and more common for the vampire. "Besides, if she's as wonderful as you say, then I'll bet she's living among kings in comparison to us."

Gale lets out a breath, then nods in agreement. "You're right. I needn't worry."

Silence fills the empty spaces again, until Astarion leans closer, his eyes going to Gale's left hand. "How is your thumb, by the way? Still broken?"

"Ah, yes. This." Gale wiggles the digit, wincing at the sharp pain it causes. "Sore, but I've mended it suitably for now. It shouldn't hinder us further." The skin has gone yellow and if he presses hard, it'll throb, but all is well in the healing process.

"And your...neck?"

His good hand goes up to touch the puncture wounds. They're faint, almost impossible to find. "I haven't felt anything since the first few days. Given, you hadn't drinken much. I'm sure Volo's needle would have done much more harm." A joke only he understands, it seems. Right. "I raise you a question of my own: why are you fussing over old wounds?" He can guess at the answer, but he'd prefer to hear it from the man himself.

Astarion sighs, his shoulders slumping. "Well, I...I feel bad for how I treated you in that cell. It wasn't right of me. And...well, I wanted to make amends."

The show of honesty is surprising, but Gale can understand the sentiment. "You're forgiven. Really, I have little room to judge your actions when I made my own number of mistakes. We both felt powerless and instead of teaming together earlier, we lashed out in petty violence." Gale frowns as he recalls it. "No, I'm the one who should apologize. I already knew of your past and still held it against you. You didn't have the same foresight and for that, I believe you deserve no punishment for it."

"Oh, please." Astarion rolls his eyes. "Don't go all self-righteous on me now. We both fucked up. We can leave it at that if there are no hard feelings between us." He offers a hand and the humor of it is not lost on Gale.

He takes the hand and shakes. "Truce." Despite the cold temperature of Astarion's skin, the hold isn't uncomfortable. He has a good strength to him, soft fingers and smooth skin. It shouldn't be possible for someone of his age and skill, yet Gale is almost embarrassed by his own rough hands. Perhaps years of paper cuts can hold up to the skills of a rogue? Doubtful but the thought is amusing enough to linger.

Gale's breath seems to grow heavy as he stares at Astarion, something churning inside of him. It's nice. No rush of dread or the feeling of suffocation. This reaction is new, yet familiar. He can't quite place it-

"What was that?" Astarion's head snaps away, his eyes narrowed toward the water around them. Their hands fall apart. "Did you hear-"

The boat jolts upward like they've passed over something massive. Gale gasps as he's nearly knocked out of it, his hands acting as the only force keeping him upright. But Astarion goes overboard, the splash of droplets falling over Gale's face.

"Astarion!" He calls, all warm comfort gone in a flash. The darkness seems to press in around him, cold and all-consuming. "Astarion?!"

The water ripples, but no answer comes. Gale stands clumsily, his hands making quick work of discarding his robes. He shivers, but it means little when his friend could very well be trapped in the water below. He makes to jump in, but a second rock of the boat has him falling back on his arse with a cry.

Astarion coughs lung-fulls of water as he grasps the side of the boat. Gale grabs his wrists and pulls him up partially, relief taking over. He's alright.

"Gods, Astarion, are you alright?! Was was that?" The vampire stops his coughing and looks up at Gale, his eyes half-lidded but distant. He uses Gale's undershirt as leverage to sit up. "Astar-"

Cold fingers thread themselves at the base of Gale's neck and pull him into Astarion's lips.

He freezes, all sensation numbed over in a flash of shock. Nothing but the feeling of soft yet heatless lips moving against his. The gasp he releases makes room for a smooth tongue to run over his lower lip and deepen the kiss.

The urge to push him away is there, but is loses in the end. Gale gives into the contact with a quick beating heart and a flutter of his stomach. He holds Astarion in return, all else falling away besides them. His fingers tangle into white curls as he pulls the vampire back with just as much desperation as the other holds him. Gale tastes all that is Astarion, the slight iron mixed with something else. Something he can't identify but it lures him in, urging him to take more and more.

Gods, it's been too long since Gale last kissed someone. It shows in how he clumsily runs his fingers over the man's ears, feeling their point. It sends electricity up his spine and Gale can't help but smile against Astarion's lips.

A sly hand runs up his shoulder and settles on his chest, just over his heart. They tug at his under clothes but the action isn't urgent. It's slow and sensual, yet no less hungry than the kiss they share. That same hand pulls Gale down over him, the boat tipping to the side to accommodate their weight. He doesn't pay it mind, his entire focus on following Astarion's lips.

Cold water rises up his arms, making Gale pull away a fraction of a centimeter. Their lips don't even disconnect, just allow enough room for words to pass out of Gale's mouth. "Where are you goi-" He goes lower and lower, more of him falling into the water in slow motion until all contact is suddenly ripped from him with a splash.

"Gale!" Astarion shouts, but the voice doesn't come from in front of him. Gale turns to see the very man climbing back into the boat, his entire being soaked as he shoves something else down with a firm kick. The boat rocks as he rolls inside properly, red eyes burning intensely back at him. "Damned siren! It didn't hurt you, did it?!"

Siren. That was a...

Gale tries to hide the dread that washes over him. "No, no I'm fine." His voice wavers but Astarion thankfully doesn't notice. That, or he's ignoring it.

"Good!" Astarion grabs the oars and starts pushing them through the lake far faster than they were before.

It's obvious now, seeing how the sirens hiss and shriek at them as they leave. Their songs have been cut short and any illusions have dropped, leaving the creatures bare to the naked eye. They are nothing but slimy monsters looking for an easy meal to lure away. And that was almost Gale. He nearly fell for that very pictured in countless tales and folklore. Gale himself had read of such acts since he was a child. He out of everyone should've known better.

Their webbed fingers splash at the water in frustration but they do no more to follow, likely deciding they're more trouble than they're worth. The danger is gone, for now.

Gale tries to shake the phantom feeling of lips against his, but it lingers even now, as if the creature never left. It's unsettling. More than that, it leaves Gale breathless because he knows their tricks. They disguise themselves as the item of one's attraction. For most, a beautiful woman or man will take that shape, likely someone the prey knows personally. Loves, even.

Then why did it take Astarion's form? Why not Mystra, or his Tav? He wouldn't rather it; seeing Mystra again would likely put him into cardiac arrest, but it would make sense. Those were his lovers. His Goddess, then the tiefling he chose to love after.

But they chose Astarion. Stubborn and bloodthirsty Astarion. Seductive, beautiful, smooth Astarion.

Gods. Gods, he looked gorgeous like that. Even now, the image haunts Gale. All hooded eyes and soft touches. Lips who have kissed hundreds, if not thousands. They pulled him in so easily and Gale let him. He let Astarion kiss him, enjoyed it even!

Looking at the vampire now, Gale's chest aches. He sees the way Astarion's lip quirks when he's concentrating. He sees the furrowed brows and narrowed eyes as they look at the water, cautious of another ambush.

But then Astarion looks up and his face softens. His every feature goes round and his brows lift curiously. Soft lips and the pointed tips of his ears poking out from his curls. He looks infinitely younger and Gale...can't. He can't. Astarion is beautiful but he can't indulge in the thought of doing more than this. Than sitting across from each other.

"What?" Astarion asks.

Can his torment never end?

"Nothing." Gale's voice holds steadier than he thought it would, but it's a blessing. "Simply wondering...how you saw through the siren's song before I did." Turn the conversation over. Think of anything besides Astarion's lips.

A huff of a laugh escapes the elf and Gale regrets ever speaking. It does horrible, horrible things to his beaten heart. "Elves can't be charmed. I thought this was common knowledge, even for humans." Astarion is smug but he has the right to be. "Honestly, I'm surprised. Have all those books done nothing for you?"

"Ah, right." Gale ignores his last comment. "Apologies. It must've slipped my mind. Call it the after-effects of being thoroughly enchanted."

Astarion's face falls. "Don't apologize. It's certainly not your fault humans are so easily charmed. Besides, sirens get their reputations from somewhere, don't they? No one would remember them for their seductive abilities if they were only subpar."

"Right." Gale swallows. "Then I thank you for saving me. I'm sure you'll find a way for me to repay my debt."

"I'm sure..." Astarion eyes him for a moment, then looks back down at the water.

Chapter 13: Grymforge

"Someone has been here." Astarion observes as they walk through the not quite ornate nor humdrum ruins. The entire Grymforge is a mixture of fallen rubble and tall standing pillars of gold and black marble. If he looks closely, Astarion can see pieces of statues among the rock and debris, but he doesn't care enough to take much more than a look. After all, the architecture comes second to the bodies cast about.

They only come in two kinds: deep gnomes and duergar. It's no surprise, given that they're still in the Underdark, but the difference in outfit and injury tip Astarion off that this may be more than a group of gnome slaves fighting back. Not one sword is seen beside the gnome's dead bodies, yet the duergar have slashing wounds, as well as a few sighs of magical effects.

"Worry not," Gale places a hand on his shoulder with an air of hubris. "This is the handy work of own Tav. See, you can tell by the length of the blade marks right along the chest." He crouches down to the nearest body, a painful pop coming from his knees. "And here, there are burn marks! Most likely a Fire Bolt was used, either by our Shadowheart or Tav herself. And the ground indents over there mean someone's used Shatter. And, of course, the beheaded elf. Nere, I believe he was called. An Absolutist who-"

Astarion blocks out the words after that. Instead, he lets the sound of Gale's voice lull him into a sense of...peace. Calm washes over him at the rich tone. He isn't sure when Gale's voice has become so melodic to him, but he can't say he hates the change. It certainly beats annoyance.

Despite being dead, warmth fills Astarion's chest. It rises into his throat and forces a smile on his face, one with no intentions behind it at all. It should scare him -and a part of it does, deep in the recesses of his will- but godsdamnit, Astarion wants this. He wants to relax around someone, even if that person is a ridiculous magician. Two hundred years of manipulation and competition between spawn has left him constantly anxious. For once, he wants to enjoy someone's company without the need for seduction and lies.

"Ah, apologies." Gale stands with a grunt, his hands positioned on his knee and back for support, like an man elderly would. It's endlessly amusing. "I do have the habit of going on, as I'm sure you know already. I'll spare you my lecture." Once he's stood properly, they go on.

Nothing else of interest comes up as they travel through the forge. More boring dead bodies and a river of lava that burns high enough to make Astarion's eyes sting. It's hot, so very hot in comparison to the Underdark's icy cold chills. It leaves Astarion sweaty and uncomfortable, but there's little he can do for it. Not when they have an elevator to activate.

Gale speaks all through it, his remarks of Lady Shar both in admiration for her follower's handy work and in scrutiny of their practices.

"-Shar stole an entire section of the Weave from Mystra's fingertips! Given, it was a time of vulnerability for the gods. After all, that was the same time the Jergal, the original scribe of death, passed down the title to the Dark Three: Bane, Bhaal, and Myrkul."

Astarion responds in monotone. "I already knew that. Raphael told us, remember?"

"Ah, yes. I remember now." Gale blushes sheepishly. "It seems time has slipped from me again. I get so caught up in all of it, as I'm sure you understand. The Dark Three and their Absolute have been an active threat to me twice as long as they have you. It is precisely why a swift end will serve them best. Just as Mystra has instructed of me."

Astarion frowns. He doesn't like the way Gale speaks of Mystra, not as his former lover but as her follower. What right does she have to send him to his death over another god's meddling? And the rest of it reeks of manipulation. Something about the way he speaks of Mystra sounds all too much like the way Astarion's 'siblings' would speak of Cazador. They groveled at his feet because he convinced them he was all-powerful, that depriving themselves of their dignity would allow them mercy. It did Astarion no good. He never once was saved from Godey because he did what Cazador asked. Not in the long run, anyway.

Then again, perhaps Gale isn't wrong about the way he goes about worshiping her. Even now, Astarion doubts there's anything he could do to properly free himself from Cazador. It would take an army and even then, Cazador would see it coming. He's powerful, more powerful than any hero Astarion has seen. Perhaps Mystra too is out of reach.

But doesn't that also point in favor of her settling this Absolute herself instead of killing off one of her followers, ex-lover or not?

It's beyond Astarion, but if he needs to read a library's worth of books to fully grasp Mystra's command, he will. For Gale, he will.

Again, that warmth floods into him. It's not the calm from before, but a protectiveness he's never felt for anyone but himself. It's dangerous, this new rush of feelings, but Astarion can't let them go. Not when it makes him feel more alive than ever.

"Are you alright?" Gale asks, his eyes shining with concern. "You seem..." He goes quiet, eyes narrowing to analyze him. His gaze catches on Astarion's lips for a split second, then Gale is pulling back. He disengages completely, just as he's done a few times since they arrived.

No, not since they arrived. Since those sirens attacked them. Something happened with them, he knows. Astarion climbed his way back onto the boat to catch Gale kissing one and he seemed quite happy to do it too, whispering things as he was. The only question is, who did he think it was?

"What did those sirens show you?" Astarion asks suddenly. "As an elf, their song didn't work on me. I assume that's why they knocked me out of the boat and tried to drown me. But you saw something, didn't you?" He frames it as a question, but they both know Astarion has no doubt in his mind.

Gale avoids all eye contact. Astarion lets him stew, while Astarion himself prepares for the possible answers. Obviously, and most likely, there's Mystra. Yet, something in his mind makes him doubt. Perhaps it's the way he kissed that siren -not that Astarion was really looking, he wasn't- but it didn't seem the way one would kiss a deity. It was too...effortless. Too simple. Gale held power, or at least he thought he did. Mystra hasn't proved herself to be the type to allow anyone else that kind of hold over her.

Then, the next answer would be the Tav Gale knew. A tall, dark tiefling with judgment in their eyes. The one who saw his death sentence and decided to be his executioner. There was love there, Astarion knows. A rebound for Mystra, possibly, but he doubts Gale would even consider it. No, the wizard likely offered all he had at the time.

Another incident that leaves a bad taste in Astarion's mouth.

"An interesting question!" Gale seems to find his words and plays it off as if he never paused to search for them. "I'm sure you're simply curious, seeing as you're immune to such magical charms and...uh, otherwise wouldn't have such an experience; but I assure you it was nothing- nothing special. Important! Uh..." He shakes his head, as if to rid himself of his thoughts. "A person. Indeed, it was a...person. A lovely person! One who-"

Gale looks at him too little, then too often. His eyes are never in one place for long, but when they land on Astarion, they seem to roam over him. His face, his eyes, his lips. Astarion has seen signs of shy attraction before and this is practically a textbook definition. Fiddling hands, a flush on his cheeks. His pupils diolate when they make eye contact and the smallest tug of a smile pulls at that declious mouth of his. He's hiding it so poorly and yet, Astarion is left awestruck at the realization of what it all means.

"You saw...me?" Astarion knows he's attractive, if only by the effect he has on others. He knows he's a charmer and a master of seduction. It's a game he plays perfectly.

But he never tried to seduce Gale. He never intended to really flirt with him or catch his eye. None of his skills have been used to lure the wizard in, so how can Gale have fallen for him? They were enemies, a single truce keeping them from killing each other outright. How...

With a deep, stabilizing breath, Gale finally turns to him. His eyes are deep and round and pleading. Gods, does it pull the air from Astarion's lungs. "I did," Gale confesses, his voice bleeding with passion and care. "I did see you. And I...I kissed you back. What I thought was you, in any case." He swallows. "I know the tales of sirens. They make you see the object of your desire. For most, it's surface beauty or riches. Material things that matter little. For others...it can be something personal, if the option is given. I didn't know I held such feelings for you but now...now, I can't stop it. I dare say I've fallen quite heavily for you.

"But I understand when I am not wanted." He continues quickly. "I've had enough heartbreak and I'd rather not force you into rejecting me. It wouldn't be fair. So, seeing as the feeling isn't mutual, I will-"

"You don't get to tell me how I feel!" Astarion stops him, the sudden anger surprising him as much as it does Gale. But even so, he leans into it. "You can't decide that I don't feel the same and call it quits now! That's my choice and I've chosen to lo- like you!" Love is too strong a word for him to confess just yet. He's said it countless times to his victims, but to mean it? He's not quite ready for that. "I like you, Gale of Waterdeep. I like you a lot."

He doesn't know when they got so close, but Astarion doesn't mind it. He slots a hand into Gale's raising it up to his lips for an achingly gentle kiss. His eyes peer into the wizard's and he smiles at the red color the man has turned.

Gale swallows again. "I...Why?"

Well, if he'd like a list...

"Why?" Astarion's lips just barely lift off of chapped skin. "Because you're the only person I've truly wanted to touch. I feel alive when I'm with you, like I can be more than what Cazador made of me. More than the manipulation and seduction. More than a body."

Brown eyes shine so brightly, Astarion almost needs to pull away, to shelter himself from that brilliant light like it may burn his skin. But instead, Astarion basks in its warmth. Rays of sun and all that.

"You...I don't know what to say." Gale shakes his head just slightly. His fingers flex in the hold Astarion has on them, but they don't pull. If anything, they grasp back. "I feel as if I've already spent all the love I have to offer. After Mystra and Tav...what is there left for me to give you?"

A playful roll of the eyes and Astarion lowers their hands to his side, the position so domestic yet it makes him feel like a virgin again. "I don't need anything from you. Certainly not whatever you offered that goddess of yours."

An idea strikes him then and Astarion connects their free hands for another kiss. "Tell me something romantic, Gale. I know you're at least good at that." He heard whispers of what he said to Tav at the tiefling party. While cringe-worthy at the time, he can now reflect on them with an unbiased view. Or, perhaps a very biased view.

Immediately, Gale's eyes look off to the side just as he always does when he's recalling something from his library of memories. Once he has it, the wizard returns with a grin. "You remind me of a painting I have hung up in my tower. I rarely care to indulge in non-historical craftsmanship, but the artistry astounded me upon my first viewing. It is a rather simple one, all things considered: a single branch of a wisteria tree. If you didn't know, wisterias loosely resemble willows but with an array of small, vibrant flowers. They commonly show in more Eastern countries, Japan especially- ah, but I digress. In this particular painting, their white pedals bled a lively tangerine color from the sunrise just behind it. It...reminds me of you, when you stand in the sun."

He should've been prepared, but Astarion is breathless. A quick clear of his throat and he's able to refocus. "I suppose I did ask for romantic..." Sunlight against white flowers? Gods, it makes his undead heart do strange things. "It's been too long since I last saw the sun. A waste, really." He pouts more for show. He yearns so badly to see it again. "But I suppose you've had two lifetimes to see me walk in broad daylight."

"That I have." Gale looks as if it's an achievement. "Yet I doubt I will ever appreciate it as I will once we reach the surface."

It's sweet and lovely and so positively disgusting. Astarion wants to get used to this, the odd compliments and hopeless romance. He wants it with Gale, of all people. The quiet moments and holding hands. Sweet poems and playful bickering.

He wants Gale in the most innocent ways.

They walk again in silence, but Astarion doesn't release Gale's hand. His mortal body is warm and a little rough along his palms and finger tips, likely from years of casting fire spells that singe his precious skin. That, or the library of books he's only bragged about nearly a dozen times.

At last, they reach the elevator that will supposedly take them up to the surface. Astarion doesn't so much as look back. He steps in and waits for Gale to start the lift, the slight wobbling sound only a tad bit concerning. Their hands separate but the comfortable air doesn't shift in the slightest.

"Gods, I almost can't believe we've made it," Gale says a minute or so after they start their ascent, his voice loud in the compact box. "How long have we spent fumbling around in the Underdark? I can't recall the number of cold days and nights we trekked under damp cave walls, nothing but the sounds of our own footsteps and each other as company. Was days? A week, perhaps? By Mystra, there's no telling."

Astarion lowers his gaze to the rusty floor. "It...It reminds me of the time I would spend in Cazador's palace. I would be tortured for days on end, no breaks between the horrible methods and no chance to escape. After a while, everything simply blends together. Days, weeks? They stopped mattering after a while."

If they hadn't been together so long, Astarion would've assumed Gale was giving him pity by the words that leave him next. "You didn't deserve that, Astarion. I'm sorry no one came for you."

The vampire has to swallow down the emotion in his throat. No one has ever told him that before. "I know I didn't." He takes a breath, then lets go of the sorrow- it's easier than he expected. He looks at Gale properly, his shoulders squared again. "But I'm ready for something new, now."

The lift settles but Gale doesn't yet open the gate. Instead, he turns to Astarion fully, a question in his eyes as he pauses in reaching for him. Once Astarion nods, a warm hand laces into his again. "Given what awaits us, I would like to hold no regrets for the last days we have together. Know that I expect nothing sexual from you, nor will I ask you to offer it for anything but your own thorough enjoyment. But I want you with me, Astarion. As a lover, perhaps? If I can be so bold as to label what we've become."

Astarion's first instinct is to deflect and make light of the situation, but he shoves it down in favor of seeing Gale as he is. A hopeless, near foolish romantic? Yes, but also someone so deeply open that Astarion can't help but look into the details of his heart and weigh it against his own. Gale gives to him and Astarion's natural urge is to take, to twist. He refuses to give in. Not when Gale deserves honesty in return. "I...would like that. And you really don't want sex? Ever?" He dares to hope.

Gale lets out a chuckle. "I may have the urges of a human man but I assure you, there are things that mean much more to me than the likes of physical intimacy." Astarion raises a suspicious eyebrow. Gale's expression never wavers. "I don't need your body to want you. This," He holds up their hands, a spark of magic dancing between their fingers, "is enough."

"I...thank you." Gale will never know how much that means to him.

They stand for a moment, then Astarion pulls them towards the doors of the lift, already eager to press on from this dreary place. "Enough sappy emotions. I want to see the sun!"

Gale winces. "About that..."

Notes:

Woooh! We got through all of Part 3! It ended up twice as long as parts one and two combined!

Chapter 14: The Surface

Notes:

For part four, there will be lots of spoilers for Act 2, and into Act 3! Be warned!

"-and you didn't bother to tell me this would lead out into a pure, magic-induced darkness before we got up here?!" Astarion huffs. He glares at Gale, but it goes ignored. Gale's focus is on more important matters than the elf's complaining; highest among them being the Shadow Curse that has flooded in around them.

"Slipped my mind." Gale shrugs, not caring for a real apology. He can't control the lack of sunlight, nor can he be completely at fault for not mentioning that unfortunate fact earlier. Halsin has mentioned the curse before. If Astarion had listened, perhaps he wouldn't have been so surprised.

An unfair statement, Gale knows, but he can't find much sympathy in the wake of even more complaints.

Just like the first time, the stark difference between the Underdark's natural fog and this curse's magic puts Gale off. While the fear of horrid beasts and monsters jumping out at them is still alive and present, the threat of the darkness itself is far worse here. Its magic reaches out even as Gale holds up a lit torch, shadowed claws just beg to rip the very life from them. If he let it, it would drive the both of them mad within minutes.

Which is why it's of the utmost importance that Gale remembers the fastest route to the Last Light Inn.

"It should be just here." Gale points ahead. He can see the massive dome of Selunite magic covering the refuge, a clear beacon for their way to go. Astarion follows him closely behind, both of them shifting carefully past dead trees and twisted land.

Gale recalls mentioning this very terrain to Halsin before. It's been uprooted to its core, masses of land held together by nothing but thick vine and near-dead stolons. It had been a deep cause of Halsin's sadness, close to nature as he was- and with his history in the land, no less. To Gale, it had simply been a strong fascination of the dark magic and cautiousness at the danger it provided.

Of course, that danger has always extended in places Gale cannot predict, as brilliant as he thinks himself to be. So when they cross through the barrier of protection into the sharp ends of seven different blades and crossbows, Gale is thoroughly surprised.

Before he can so much as speak, Jaheria is shooting at him. It hits the ground and thick vines grow up the sides of his legs and cross over his chest. They pull both hands down, the occasional thorn pricking his skin.

"What in the hells-" Astarion's voice is cut off by the druid.

"I may be a believer of miracles but I am not stupid enough to trust it twice. So tell me, little rabbits, who do you serve?"

Gods, she's as blunt as ever. He can't say she was missed, he never took much to her personally, but a logical mind is always appreciated.

Carefully, Gale meets her eyes with the most honest look he can muster. "I understand you have no reason to trust my word, but know that I am not allied with the Absolute or its bloody True Souls. I come here seeking Tav, my companion."

She pauses. "State your names. You get only this one chance."

"I am Gale of Waterdeep and this is my-" His lips stutter on the word 'friend'. It's not entirely true anymore, is it? What are they now that the truth has come out? How would he describe-

No, no. Now is not the time.

"-My partner, Astarion. We seek no quarrel with you nor the people you protect."

To Gale's surprise, Jaheria seems to recognize their names and she stores her weapons. With a nod to the others and a wave of her hand, all pointy ends are directed away from them and Gale is released from his binds.

Then, she extends a hand to him. He takes it. "Tav mentioned you may show up sooner or later. It's good to see she was right."

Astarion, who's been safely hidden behind Gale this whole time, steps forward. "While I don't usually keep the habit of questioning the one who's just decided not to kill us...how exactly did she know we were coming? Last she saw, we plummeted to our deaths in the Underdark."

"Raphael," Gale recalls. "She made a deal with him to bring us back safely." But then comes the question of how she knew they survived at all. Had Raphael himself tipped her off, or had she sought to resurrect them with Wither's powers and found no such magic could be used?

The thought is touching, honestly. He didn't think Tav knew them well enough to care past their individual uses. Gale can only cringe from the memory of his drunken confession. Perhaps she deserves more credit than he's given her.

"Come along." Jaheria guides them through the makeshift camp. Wooden spikes criss-cross along the borders, a sad attempt at defense but likely their only choice. Gale spies Dammon working away in his shop, as well as a few other tieflings he sadly cannot recognize. After saving them twice, he really ought to at least learn some of their faces.

Just within the inn itself are more of those tieflings. Gale is not surprised -yet still relieved- to see the children from the grove, as well as a few others. There are less than he remembers, however. Fewer of everyone, really. It's disheartening and it makes him question where Tav may be now and how much she's done. Will he have to wait days longer? The thought alone leaves Gale uneasy.

"Are you alright?" Astarion's voice is whispered. The question is for Gale's ears alone.

"I will be." It's the only answer he can truthfully give.

They climb a wide staircase and turn into one of the rooms used for strategizing. Once Jaheira pushes open the door, Gale immediately spots Karlach as she plays a game with the tiefling children, a wide smile on her face.

"Rest," Jaheira tells them. "Tav and the others should return soon. Until then, we prepare for Kethroic Thorm."

"Understood." Gale nods and he waits until the druid has left before approaching Karlach.

The giantess of a tiefling turns with a twitching tail. For a moment, she stares at them in no recognition; but once it finally clicks, the woman is rushing over to them with a wide smile, the children left to themselves. "Fucking hells, no way! You actually made it!'

"Why, of course we did!" Astarion pops his hip and lets his opposite hand hang. Not flirtatious...flamboyant is the word he's looking for. "And you are..." Astarion squints his eyes, as if trying to remember.

"The name's Karlach! Pleased to meet you! Again." She takes Astarion's hand in a firm shake.

Gale turns to him. "She's the one who fought in the Bloodwars in Averus, remember? We killed those paladins-"

"Riiight!" Astarion's face lights up. "You're the one that Blade was looking for. Oh, what was his name-"

"Wyll."

"-Yes, Wyll! Just about cleaved your head off too."

Karlach takes it all in stride, as she always does. "What a champ, isn't he? Oh, oh! You haven't been around long, have you? It's been two whole tendays, anyway; so I might as well-"

"Two tendays?!" The both of them gasp.

It's been two tendays. No, no that can't be right. Two? From the very moment they fell until the drow slave site must've been about...well maybe three days? Then they spent a night in Menzoberranzan, sat in a boat for...how long was that? Then they lost the boat, found the drider, left the drider after another handful of days...

It really must've been two tendays, then. Twenty individual days spent surviving together, alone, in the Underdark. Four hundred hours that brought them from enemies itching to hurt the other to whatever they've become now.

Gods, so much has happened without Gale even realizing it.

"Yeah! We spent at least two days just looking for the lot of you! Tav wouldn't let go until we found the creche she and Lae'zel were after. Oh, and then we met even more githyanki, a mind flayer -but he was a good one, I think- and popped out in time to catch our escort to the towers. Oh! But before I recount everything that's happened, why don't I do the escorting and show you to camp?"

"That would be lovely, Karlach." The two of them follow her out of the inn and off to the side. It's a more secluded area, away from the eyes of everyone else but still within the sphere of magic.

As soon as they arrive, Karlach kneels to meet Scratch, an array of coos and adoring words flooding out of her as she pats the dog's back. It's far too similar to the way Gale was treated by the drider.

The joys of being one's pet.

A movement from the right catches Gale's eye. He spots Withers already looking at him, those blackened eyes peering directly at him. Everything else takes second to that one stare and without thinking, Gale leaves them for the undead- or whatever he claimed to be.

A cold hand reaches out to stop him. "Where are you..." Astarion asks, then he must see Withers as well because the elf's hand slips away. "A moment, Darling. We have something very important to discuss with our good friend Withers over there." And with that, Astarion accompanies Gale for the short walk across their camp.

Withers doesn't seem any more bothered than usual. His skeletal jaw is relaxed and he regards Gale as always. "How might I serve thee?"

Hundreds of words flood Gale's mind. Most of them accusing and harsh from the second life he's spent blindly fumbling for answers that were in front of him all along. But in this moment, none of them come out of Gale's mouth. Instead, a rush of sorrow overtakes him, the mourning he's pushed away all this time.

"Why?" He begs. "Why did you send me back? I lost everything-" The emotion chokes him. How can he possibly put it into words? This pain, so deep in his chest that even the orb's hunger is preferable. He lost his Tav and the life he lived without the weight pulling him into the hells. He found another purpose after Mystra and someone who was willing to give it to him. An entire lifetime ripped away from him by the hands of someone higher. Someone he too thought was a friend.

"I died and you brought me back!" Gale breaths heavily, his chest rising and falling quickly. "Why did you bring me back?!"

Even now, those eyes do not show a lick of emotion. "Fate hadst turned from its strait path. I hadst only called upon the change fate required of me."

"But why?! What did I do wrong?!" He's shouting now, uncaring for who may hear him. Forget Karlach, forget everyone else. He needs answers. "What did I do?!"

Withers blinks once. "Dost thou recall my first question to thine Tav?"

The question blindsides Gale. He stares, shakes his head, then lets out a gasp of a sob. His eyes burn but he stubbornly refuses to let himself cry. He's faced worse, far far worse. So, why is this so difficult?

Cold fingers lace into his and Gale finally feels as if he can breathe. "Do we need to leave?" Astarion asks, his voice soft yet holding an edge to it.

"No. Not yet." Gale says firmly. Then, he straightens his shoulders and addresses Withers. "What question?"

"What is the worth of a single mortal's life?" Right. Right, he remembers that now. "And dost thou know Tav's answer?" He can only shake his head.

Withers answers for him. "They hadst said, 'It depends on one's deeds'. It rang in truth upon thine end."

"I..." Gale is at a loss for words. This is all so abstract, so complicated. His frazzled mind can't pull the pieces together, not in a way that makes sense. "I can't-"

"I now turn the question thine way. What is the worth of a single mortal's life?"

The...the worth of a single mortal. A single, inconsequential person. From scholars to beggars. Thieves to kings. What is the worth?

"Impossible," Gale whispers, more to himself than Withers. "Each life is of infinite value and...and merits sacrificing everything for."

Withers nods. "Then fate spins as it should. Continue on, Gale Dekarios. Thou willst find thine purpose."

His purpose...

"Seeing as you aren't willing to give me straight answers, I bide you well for the evening." Gale turns away before he can say something crude, his temper already past strained.

Gale retreats in a bit of a huff, but he allows himself this instance of petulance. Why can no one offer him real answers? Not Raphael, who gave nothing but crumbs of information that still leave Gale pondering. Now, Withers, the very person responsible for all of this, has forgone a proper conversation in favor of riddles and nonsense about fate.

So what if fate had other plans for him? What does it matter if a greater evil is gone? His life for the Absolute, that is what Gale wagered. Why is that decision not good enough? How is he always at the whim of someone else, a doll to be tossed around?

"Gale-"

The wizard spins on his heel, a finger already pressed hard against Astarion's chest. "You! Stop-stop following me, godsdamnit! Honestly! Are you not your own person, Astarion?! Can you go a moment without chasing my coattails like some pup to his owner?!"

As soon as it leaves his mouth, Gale knows he's gone too far. Dread shoots through him like ice and he stutters to fix his mistake. "I...I'm sorry, Astarion. I didn't mean it like that."

Once concerned eyes now glare at him. "Is that what I get for trying to help?! For being supportive?!" Astarion snaps, his arms crossed over his chest. "Perhaps I should allow you to do this alone, then. Damn all the time we've spent together."

"No, no, I...I didn't..." Gale fumbles for what to say. After a tense moment, he decides to be honest. "It's not your fault, Astarion. And usually I would welcome your company at my side, as I have for all this time. But I can't handle it right now. I need...I need time. Alone. Please understand."

Despite the offense taken, Astarion relaxes. Gods, Gale doesn't deserve him. "I get it. If you want space, I can grant you that at least. Just do well to not snap at me again. I don't like being blown up at." They both wince at the unintentional pun.

"Thank you. I'll come to you when I'm ready. Just...give me time." Time, time. He always needs more time. More time to study, to show Mystra his use, to push away his inevitable death -nothing but the endless yearning for that which he cannot take back, no matter how many life times he lives.

Astarion, the gracious creature he is, takes a bow. "Then I will wait." He stands again and turns away. A pause, then Astarion looks back gently. "Do take care of yourself...Dearest."

Gale wants to reach out and offer something -anything- to show his affection, but he doesn't. Instead, he moves quickly to escape the camp and find solitude for an hour or two.

Old habits seem to die harder than he does.

---

When Tav arrives, she's covered in blood and viscera. Wyll, Shadowheart, and Lae'zel follow behind her, and out of the four of them, only Wyll seems in relatively good spirits.

That is, until they spot Gale and Astarion.

"Istik, you live!" Tav smiles -genuinely smiles- at them. She grabs Gale by the shoulders and nods firmly, uncaring for the blood her hands spread onto his robes. "The devil followed through, then. Good." She looks between them, then nods again. "Good."

"You certainly don't look horrendous," Shadowheart observes. Her usual sass is dampened and Gale can guess as to why. She holds the Spear of Evening and yet, guilt weighs heavy on her shoulders. She's disobeyed Shar's order and saved the Nightsong.

He knew he could trust Tav.

Astarion's nose wrinkles as he pulls away from them. "Ha! Just look at you lot! And here I thought I was the one with blood issues."

"I reckon the Gauntlet of Shar didn't treat you well?"

Tav's eyes go wide. "...No, we faired well against Shar's challenges. Balthazar was a worthy opponent, however."

It certainly looks so. "Well, don't allow me to take you from your rest. We can catch up at a later time."

The githyanki shakes her head even as she throws her sword to the ground and begins unclamping her armor- which most certainly came from Dammon, judging from the crest on her pauldron. "No. Tell me now what you saw."

After a glance toward Astarion, who's too busy inquiring about Wyll's horns to notice, Gale gives in. He sits a little ways away as Tav washes herself of blood and grime, and he recounts as much as he can remember.

By the time he's done, Gale's throat has gone dry. "I see." Tav is cleaner now, her hair having returned to its naturally black color, instead of a deep red. "I...I would not have found you, then. It seems you were far out of reach."

"That we were." Gale agrees.

Suddenly, her grey eyes grow sharp. "But that is not all, is it? You wish to tell me something else."

Gale curses his luck. First Astarion could see right through him, now Tav? Is he really so easily read?

"Yes, there is." He relents. There is no point in fighting her, not when he's already told Astarion. He can only hope for a similar reaction. "I...It will be difficult to understand but it's imperative you believe me. Please?"

She nods, firm and honest.

"I am...not from the future, but have knowledge of events that will come to pass. I've lived them already- which, I suppose would mean I do come from the future." He breaths, recenters, then continues. "In my past life, I fought beside a teifling with your same name, only they were a Paladin and...and my lover. That's why I sought you out so soon. And unyieldingly. I held hope that you were the same and that our love would transend time and death itself. I was wrong."

Understanding dawns on Tav. "When did this begin? And where does it end?"

"It started on the Nautiloid. There, I regained my consciousness and began living through the same steps with little variance. I walked beside my own Tav from the Goblins, to where we are now- though, I hadn't fallen to the Underdark before. That part was new."

She leans forward, her eyes no less intense. "And your end?"

He stalls for a moment longer before finally letting it out. "Moonrise Towers. You may not have heard from Elminster, but my Goddess asked me to use the orb to destroy the Absolute." He shows her again the twisting scars over his chest. "An explosion the size of Waterdeep..."

Knowing the githyanki to be a culture of hardened warriors, it surprises Gale to see how devastated Tav looks. Her severe expression melts into open sorrow. "She should not ask that of you. She cannot! I have only just regained you and the vampire! I do not want to lose you again!"

Gale stares at her. How can she care so much? She doesn't know him, not past their shaky introductions. Hells, he's been alone with Astarion longer than he ever even knew her, yet Tav looks as if she were the one asked to make this sacrifice. It so painfully contrasts the casual annoyance his own Tav had shown to the same message.

But then he remembers Vlaakith. He remembers what happened at the crèche and what their supposed Queen ordered of them as well.

To kill themselves in hopes of a cure. To give up their entire lives, to kill others -their own kin- for a chance at her side. A lie.

"You were a cleric of Vlaakith, weren't you?" He knows as well as anyone where a cleric's powers come from.

Tav looks down, pained. "Why do you change the topic?"

Gale doesn't answer her. Not directly. "Do you still follow her? After what she did in that crèche?"

This time, the walls around Tav begin to crumble to pieces. It's clear now that they were never strong to begin with, likely not since she left that same crèche. It's been eating her inside and Gale can see every bite mark. "I worship Helm now. Vlaakith does not deserve my prayers."

"I'm sorry, Tav."

She looks up again, some strength coming back. "Do not. You aren't my queen. You will not apologize." He lets her continue. There's obviously a lot on her mind.

Tav looks to Wyll, a very familiar smile on her lips. It's the same look Astarion gives him when they're alone. "The Blade helps me. He...he taught me kindness and I show it to him in return. And he flatters me with his fancy moves."

"He is quite handsome." Gale agrees, though his eyes watch Astarion's back. He knows the two are as unlike as oil and water. A hero and a rogue. But both were manipulated for another's gain. Both feel unworthy of the love they're given.

Gods, if only he had time enough to prove Astarion wrong.

"You." Tav pulls his attention again. "Tell me. Do you want to die in the towers?"

"I don't want to die! If I had the choice, I would very much like to stay and live out my life as anyone else would! I could become a professor or- or a lover! A real lover, not what Mystra made of me!" Gale freezes, shocked at his own words. Then, he speaks again with the anguish this very decision has held over him. "I want to live, but there is no other way to stop the Absolute."

Gale expects more protests, as futile as they would be; but instead, Tav simply nods in agreement. No, not agreement. Defeat. "This is your choice. But if ever you choose to spare yourself, I am here. You will not be lost again."

He can't quite believe it. She must be playing at something. Surely a githyanki doesn't give up so easily.

But he's too exhausted by the conversation to press further. If he never has to think of this damned orb again, he will die a happy man. The faster they move on from the inevitable, the better.

"Thank you, Tav." Gale stands. "I shan't keep you longer." And with a bow, he leaves her to set up his own bedroll. For the first time in two tendays, he will be able to rest easy knowing he is well protected among friends.

So, as he settles in, he lets his thoughts wander to the more pleasant images. Flashes of moments where he felt joy and even excitement. The marvels of drow architecture, discovering the driders, the murals and books of ancient culture at his fingertips.

Astarion's round eyes as they held hands.

It's enough to put him at ease for the time being. He can only hope his dreams are as kind.

Notes:

I want you to know just how tempting it was to add "And, well, in it." To that one line. I overcame it for the sake of the moment, but boy was I close to letting it slip.

Chapter 15: Purpose

Notes:

So sorry for the late update! Holidays have swept me away lately! We should be back on schedule for the remainder of this fic, though!

Astarion wakes from a sound outside his tent. He sits up quickly and grabs the daggers at his side- only to set them aside when Gale's figure lifts the flap. He waits just outside, as if he were the vampire seeing permission.

"Well don't let all the heat out," Astarion huffs, less because of Gale's actions and more to urge the ridiculous wizard inside already. It works and Gale shuffles inside like a sad, wet puppy. And that's saying something, considering the actual mutt sleeping outside.

He settles about a foot away, his shoulders bent forward as he stares down at his own hands. Astarion waits for him to speak. He's not the one who will be losing precious sleep.

Gale starts with a sigh. "I wish to apologize again for what I said to you. It was unfair of me."

"That's not why you're here." While a heartfelt apology is usually appreciated, Astarion knows it'll only stall the real reason. He waits for Gale to look at him, those doe eyes so beautifully open, before he continues. "It doesn't take a scholar to see it, Darling. We're heading to Moonrise Towers come morning. This is our last night together." It doesn't half to be, a voice inside Astarion screams. This doesn't need to be the end.

"This topic is tired, Astarion." Gale draws closer, finally coming close enough for their fingers to overlap. It's safe, but the warmth it brings is comforting. One of the few contacts Astarion truly enjoys. "I think I've talked enough about killing myself. Is it so much to ask for good company?"

"Yes," Astarion answers immediately. "Yes, it is because you're being stupid about this whole thing." Boldly, Astarion reaches out for more contact. He pulls their joined hands toward Gale's chest, the steady beat of a working heart like a melody. Astarion feels the underlying twist of magic as well, the power it holds just within Gale's fingers. That very power he plans to use to kill himself.

"Don't do this." Astarion pleads. "Tav is capable- they all are! Let them find another way-"

"There isn't!" Gale tries to push him away but Astarion holds fast. "There is no other way! This is it! I have to do this!"

Astarion refuses to believe it, no matter how much the man may claim it to be true. "Surely you don't want to die, Gale. Tell me you don't."

"I-" The human looks away. His chest rises and falls quickly, his heart erratic. Astarion feels it all, simply relieved that there's still life there. "I don't want to die. Gods, Astarion, I'm terrified of it! It hurts, I know it does! The orb, it-it rips me apart! The very seams of my being will unravel. I'll be less than bits of gore and viscera. I'll be nothing!"

A shaky breath, then Gale gathers himself again. "But I have to. I wish you would understand this."

Silently, Astarion seethes. "Is this about...Mystra?" The damned 'goddess' who asked this of him. If he had the power, he would kill her himself, but he can't even escape his own master. There's little he can do against a divine being, like it or not.

"Astarion, this hasn't been about Mystra!" Gale gasps. "Not in this lifetime. And if I can be honest, I've all but given up on my Goddess. I don't spend my waking moment thinking of our time together. Not anymore. Now, it's just..." Those deep brown eyes begin to shine. "Just you. It's all you, My Love."

He could continue to press, but he doesn't. Instead, Astarion lets the moment take them somewhere new. He examines how their fingers slot together clumsily, sees the evidence of their differences written in their skin. Yet, they're here and in love.

Ridiculous, both of them. Perhaps that's why it works so well.

"I love you, Astarion." Gale's voice drips with so much care and feeling that it's almost too much. Astarion drinks it in greedily. "I love you unlike I've loved anyone. Mystra and my Tav never felt like this. With you, I feel...free. Like I can be more than Gale of Waterdeep."

Many of the people Astarion lured have said they loved him, but he never believed them. It was always the rush of hormones and a spur-of-the-moment thing. Never meaningful. Never lasting once they fell into Cazador's hands.

But this he knows is true. Never has he bedded Gale. He didn't flirt and flatter like he did countless others. Gale loves Astarion as he is, not the person he thought he was for two hundred years.

"How do you do it?" Astarion can't help but laugh. "You make me want to be nice. It's annoying." He pouts for show. When it earns him a chuckle, Astarion smiles in return.

The smile falls but he keeps the man close, their foreheads pressing together. Like this, Astarion can smell the old books on Gale, as well as a mix of spices from their dinner. It's far more addicting than it has any right to be.

"Tomorrow," Astarion whispers. "Tomorrow, promise me that whatever you choose, it's because you want it."

Hot air puffs against Astarion's lips. "I...promise." Warm hands tilt Astarion's head down and a soft kiss plants itself against his forehead. It takes the breath from Astarion's lungs. "I promise."

It takes a long few seconds for Astarion to find his words. "...Good." He nods, then pulls away to lay back in his bedroll. A single hand reaches out for Gale, almost begging. "Would you sleep with me tonight?"

"Of course." Gale smiles and he settles in at Astarion's side.

It's not entirely comfortable and they spend far too much time arranging their limbs, but to Astarion, it's perfect. Gale is a furnace beside him, keeping the entire tent well-heated as the night stretches on. It's funny, really. He once complained about having to sleep in the same bed as the wizard. If only he had known the comfort it could bring. He never could've predicted that these soft touches would be more than welcome. He wants them. Wants all of this.

"You won't do it, Dearest." Astarion whispers, his words heard by no one but him and the silence of night. "I'll make sure of it."

The elf druid, Jaheria, gathers her troops outside of the front gates. There aren't nearly as many of them as Astarion would like, but he supposes that's to be expected. At least they're prepared, weapons ready and potions in hand. They will die for this fight.

Astarion stands just ahead of them, beside Tav and the rest of their companions. Karlach hops between her feet like she's preparing for a jog. Lae'zel holds her blade at the ready, the edges freshly sharpened and wiped clean. Wyll is furthest back, acting as Jahiera's shield, ironically.

Gale and Shadowheart are on either side of Tav. The plan is that a smaller group of them will break off from this first fight to go directly to Ketheric Thorm. Astarion will join them as well, being their sniper from the shadows. He's only happy to accompany Gale. Who knows when he'll decide to pull the plug.

"By Helm's might, we will save this land from the Absolute's curse!" Tav shouts, her own sword raised high. "With me, we will know victory! Htak'a!"

Then, they charge in like a storm. The doors burst open and they meet the Absolute's first defenses head on. They clash like a title wave, metal hitting metal and blood spilling immediately.

Astarion smells it, rich and pungent. He may have drinken from a most gracious Shadowheart not even three hours ago, but it still pulls to him.

Arrows rain from above and Astarion cries out as one hits him in the shoulder. He points his bow up and shoots off two well-aimed shots, knocking the True Souls down from their perches. Another falls after, their screams unheard among the hundred other cries.

Something large hits the ground. It knocks down several people around it and Astarion can only do so much to get away. He's pinned beneath a struggling human, his lungs unable to suck in air he does not need. He can't get up, not when bodies upon bodies pile up, keeping them all scrambling.

It reminds him too much of the slaves in the Underdark.

"I got you, Soldier!" Hot hands grab Astarion by his arms and lift him easily. He's quick to reorient himself in the battle, just dodging a swing from a sword. Karlach nods to him, then carries on slashing with her axe. She cleaves a goblin's head in two, then yanks the weapon back to crush another's skull.

Astarion slips between the cracks in the battle, his crossbow set aside in favor of his daggers. These ones are new, a gift from Tav. He uses them to slip any Absolutist's throat he can with as quick as he's moving. He has to find Gale, has to catch up.

A burst of magic shows exactly where the wizard is. Gale stands away from the bulk of the fight, his mouth moving quickly as he casts spell after spell. Waves of thunder and shattered earth fall from his fingertips, crushing their enemies many at a time. He's careful to avoid their allies, Astarion sees. A well-placed Fireball lands right over Lae'zel's head, yet a bubble forms around her to keep the githyanki unharmed.

"Behind you!" Wyll jumps down, his rapier piercing an orc who was inches from doing the same to Astarion. The warlock pulls his weapon free, then grabs the arrow from Astarion's shoulder. "Shadowheart's just ahead! Go!"

Astarion runs, his whole focus on getting to their healer. He's careful to keep outside of the range of each sword and club, not really fancying getting hurt further before he can find their healer.

The dark cleric stands with a spear in her arms, little spirits surrounding her. She's summoned a sentient battleaxe as well, which smashes any goblin skulls it can reach. Another joins it soon after but in the shape of a trident.

"Shadowheart!" Astarion calls and before he can even process it, his shoulder seals shut and the pain fades away. He turns to see Tav looking in his direction, her face already covered in blood and gore as she cuts through anyone who has the misfortune of being in her way.

Gods! And he thought he had a problem with violence!

"Come!" Tav orders. Immediately, Shadowheart and Gale pull away from their positions. "They can take the rest of these swine! Thorm is ours!"

As they rise up the stairs, voices call for their victory. Astarion can pick up Karlach's "Fuck yeah!", as well as Lae'zel's "Vlaakith gha'g shkath zai!", which Astarion assumes is just another battle cry.

Tav leads them in killing anyone they pass on their way up. Astarion takes lead with her to keep the spellcasters from using up more spells. They've already wasted enough, in his humble opinion.

Once Tav's sword has been pulled free of the guard's stomach, she stands at the door to Thorm's office, her back hunched. They settle in behind her, Shadowheart in front, and Astarion and Gale behind.

"When?" Astarion whispers. He doesn't need to explain.

"Not yet," Gale tells him, his eyes never leaving the door. "But you will know."

He has to trust that he will.

Tav counts down silently. Once she hits zero, they burst through the doors and storm into Kethric Thorm's office. The man himself stands up a level, his arrogance clear in how he holds himself. This is a man who's tasted godhood and held on too long.

This should be a delightful lesson to teach him, then.

They rush in as someone comes in from above, a vicious woman with a sharp blade and powerful wings. She cuts down a skeleton and then lands beside Tav. Thorm sneers in anger, his words madness. He speaks to this new woman, Aylin, as if she were a thing. An object for his use.

The finer details of the conversation are lost to him, but he can gather enough. This woman, the Nightsong, held the key to his power. She now seeks to destroy it and him. For her, this isn't about the greater good, nor is it to destroy an overarching evil. This is personal.

Astarion knows it all too well.

Kethroic Thorm fights with stoic strength. He knows how strong he is, even if he's vulnerable. Each stroke of his sword is with purpose, each hit intentionally. And gods, does he hit hard.

They start shakily. Tav obviously wasn't expecting the minions to deal a punch as well. Thorm's skeletons send blast after blast of ice upon them. The drider has encased himself in magic, leaving him untouchable to any of them. Mages of the Absolute cut away at them with powerful spells that even Gale can't always counter.

Shadowheart falls nearly at the same time as Thorm. Aylin deals a final slash across the tyrant's neck, forcing him to stumble to his knees; and a skeleton, perhaps in rage at its master's defeat, sends a strong burst of necrotic magic into Shadowheart's chest. The dark cleric lands with a sick crack and she does not stand again.

"Shadowheart, no!" Tav screams but she's unable to cross the room before another skeleton catches her in the shoulder.

Astarion runs. He has health potions to spare, and even if he didn't, one will be enough to bring her back. He doesn't care to crouch or even hide anymore, now with Thorm on the run. His focus is Shadowheart. He has to get to-

A blade plunges into his ribs, stopping Astarion dead. He sputters, then looks up at a tall, angry drider.

A voice calls for him, but Astarion's ears ring too loudly for him to hear it. He swallows, then gasps as the blade sinks deeper into his flesh. Fuck does it hurt, but with a high tolerance for pain, Astarion pulls himself off and spins to sink his own blades in. He knows exactly where to hit too -the gut, just above the spider exoskeleton. That's where he's still drow.

The sharp edge bounces off his skin. A magical barrier holds still against the drider's entire body, leaving him entirely invulnerable to Astarion's attacks.

"Shit-" The drider stabs him again, then again.

Astarion falls onto his back. He gasps in each breath, the pain in his sides making it near impossible to so much as grunt. Spider limbs crawl over him like a cage, keeping him locked inside as the drider hits him again and again, unrelenting in his assault. Astarion needs to get out. He needs to run but he can't move, the legs are in the way, he can't, he can't, cantcantcant-

"Move him!" A voice echoes in Astarion's mind. It's muffled and far away, but still there.

The driders are attacking him. He knew they would, he knew it! They cleave open his leg and tear out his insides. If he weren't dead already, he would certainly be now.

"Tav, move him!"

"Hta'zith!"

Blood rains down over Astarion and he chokes on it. It drips down into his mouth and down his throat. His eyes sting from its warmth and he couchs to try and clear his airway of it, but then his hunger takes over. He lips up whatever he can, off his lips, off the floor. He drinks it in, lets it fuel him. It tastes vile, but it's enough to get him up and moving away from his attackers.

A hand grabs Astarion's arm and he blindly swings his dagger. "Don't touch me! Don't-"

"I have you, Astarion!" Gale's voice is close enough to send breaths of warm air onto his forehead. Astarion drops the dagger, his entire body shaking uncontrollably. Gale holds him even still. "You're here. Tav took care of the drider. We're safe."

"T-Th-Thorm?" Astarion asks. Living hands wipe the blood from his eyes, allowing him to finally see his rescuer.

"We have time," Gale says, his voice calm and steady. He's solid and present, keeping Astarion laid against his lap. So, there he stays, ready to take in as many health potions as Gale is willing to offer him.

It takes a long while for the rest of their companions to join them. Wyll enters first. He kneels by Tav's side, who seethes loudly at the place where Thorm once stood. Tears well up in her eyes but they only fall once Wyll is at her side, whispering sweet things into a kiss.

Lae'zel and Jaheria stand watch on either entrance, their wounds considerably less grievous compared to the others. Astarion is almost jealous, if he weren't also slightly terrified of them for the same fact.

Karlach settles up last, her claws full of whatever loot she could find around the room. "Not much, but I'll bet we could sell these gems. You like selling things, don't ya, Tav." She grins, attempting to help calm their leader.

Astarion doesn't pay them further mind. He instead gets lost in the way Gale's heart beats fast against his back, the steady thump thump letting Astarion finally relax. Well, as much as he can with their threat still on the run.

The fight with Thorm surprised Astarion, not by the difficulty of it but quite the opposite. With Aylin's help and the skill of each companion, they managed to beat Throm well enough to send the man scrambling. A once unstoppable being has been more than stopped. Perhaps this isn't hopeless. Maybe, if all continues as it has, they can actually beat this Absolute without sacrifices. Not on Gale's part, anyway.

For the first time in longer than Astarion can remember, hope nestles itself in his chest. It's small, a flicker against the hardened realism that he's grown accustomed to, but it's there.

"We'll do it." Astarion whispers, a ghost of a smile stretching his lips. "I'll show you."

Gale looks down at him, a morose look in his eyes. He doesn't respond and Astarion would yank at the bastard's hair if not for Tav's announcement for them to advance.

The lot of them gather whatever pieces they've been left in and prepare to do it all again. Astarion has to blink away spots in his vision as he finally stands. His head pounds and there's still a lingering sting in his side, but he'll suck it up and press on. He may complain for the sake of complaining, but he will not pull everyone else back because of his inability to handle pain of all things. He's better than that.

"Ew, ew! And I thought the nautiloid was disgusting!" Astarion steps carefully over another puddle of blood, shivers running up his spine and nausea turning his stomach. He may fancy a good drink, but this stuff is worse than anything he's ever smelled before. It all reeks of mind flayers. The damned things that started this whole mess.

The tadpoles were one thing, but this? This is just downright evil!

The sentiment seems to be shared among the others. Varying expressions of disgust twist their faces. "Nasty!" Karlach sticks her tongue out with a bleh sound. "It's like walking through someone's arsehole!"

"Please, don't put that image in my head," Wyll begs. "It's bad enough we have to walk on flesh. I don't want to so much as picture...that."

"It's just ahead," Gale says. Out of everyone, he is the only one unaffected. He does not gag at the wafting smells or cringe at the fleshy doors that twist open very much like arseholes. No, the wizard's eyes stay dead ahead, his focus unwavering.

But only Astarion can see how Gale tremors. His fists clench tightly around his staff. His jaw is set tightly enough to chip a tooth and his eyes pinch, as if he were bracing for something. Signs, Astarion knows. All of it collects together in telling him that their time is coming soon. Very, very soon.

Past a final doorway, they step into a wide opening of more stone than flesh. Platforms line either side, one of which holds Aylin in a binding spell. The woman struggles and cries in frustration, but she goes ignored by the three figures standing in the center of a large...bowl? It's a raised area that leads into what appears to be a pit of green magic smoke.

The figures talk amongst themselves as if they haven't arrived. Karlach snarls the name 'Gortash' and Wyll's eyes go wide as he points out his father. Astarion turns his attention to Gale, who has grown even more tense. His fingers dance in the air, as if he were already casting a spell, but nothing leaves his mouth. Not until the figures raise their hands and-

A brain rises up. A giant brain wearing a crown.

"Karsus crown..." Gale gasps, his eyes impossibly wide. "That power...If only I had known the first time..." He shakes his head slowly, then quicker as laughter bubbles out of him. Astarion watches as awe turns to greed. Filthy, selfish greed. "I want it."

"What do you speak of?" Tav turns. She's on high alert, her eyes still flicking up at the brain every other second. Green fingers hold her sword tightly. "What is that crown?"

Gale takes a step forward, his eyes never leaving the brain. Astarion follows him closely, both hands held out to...well, do something. Either stop him or keep him standing, the elf isn't sure. "The Crown of Karsus. The very thing that allowed him to steal a god's power and claim it for himself. Now, it's being used by the Elder Brain. The Absolute-" Another realization hits him, then. "By the gods, Mystra!"

"Gale, speak sense!" Astarion grabs onto his shoulders, an attempt to ground him in reality instead of that maze of a mind. "Tell me exactly what you're thinking!"

The wizard turns, his expressions moving so quickly, Astarion can hardly catch them, but he sees enough. Betrayal, anger, and sadness. "This wasn't about the greater good!" Gale all but shouts. "The only thing that threatens her power is me and that crown and Mystra decided to play us against each other! Gods, I can't...I can't believe what a fool I've become! I never fell because of my wrongs! The power I asked for, the orb, this crown- all of it! She was scared of my potential! That I would become the next Karsus!"

The greatest threat to a vampire is another vampire. The greatest threat to the Goddess of Magic was those who used her Weave.

It makes all too much sense now.

Astarion points Gale's eyes toward his own. He doesn't soften his touch until they're truly looking at each other. "What are you thinking?" He asks again. "Tell me what you'll do."

The shock lessens as Gale slowly seems to make up his mind. His eyes burn with anger as he stares back at Astarion. "I'm not dying for a coward." Gale hisses.

And isn't that just music to Astarion's ears? The vampire grins as relief takes over and he pulls Gale into his arms fully. "Gods, it took you long enough. I really thought I would have to pin you down..." And he would've, easily. With Tav and everyone else on his side, Gale never would've gotten the chance to ignite that orb.

Voices start again and Astarion turns to see the figures retreating. They leave Kethoric Thorm where he stands, but with a puff of dark magic, the rest disappear from sight, along with the brain. Not a second later, a voice rattles in Astarion's skull, centered around a point just behind his eye. The tadpole, he knows.

"It is time, faithful ones. March on Baldur's Gate. We go to prepare the way!"

Dread fills Astarion's chest, then it slowly moves away. Away, towards Baldur's Gate.

"Wait. No, no! No, they'll destroy the city!" Gale's entire demeanor shifts in an instant. His anger is gone, as well as that delicious greed. Now, he's shaking apart, his seams tearing open with every passing second. "I wasted time! I should've used the orb sooner, should've-" Gale is breathing too quickly. Each gasp is immediately followed by a hiss and Astarion just barely manages to catch him as he falls to his knees. He's frighteningly weak in Astarion's arms.

Thorm doesn't wait for them to collect themselves. The tyrant addresses Tav, directly, each word he spits mocking. Astarion doesn't listen, not close enough to gather what he's really prattling on about. His focus is on Gale and the sudden rush of comforting nonsense leaving his mouth.

Tav lifts her sword but pauses to address Astarion. "Protect him." She orders, her words somehow holding more gravity than anything said thus far.

He alone is responsible for keeping Gale alive.

"Down with the Absolute!" Tav cries as she leads them into battle. Astarion watches them in terror as more of those damned skeletons appear out of nothing. Aylin is trapped, she can't help them. They'll have to fight on their own for this one and Astarion isn't confident they'll win this round. Not with how close a call it was last time.

Gale pulls in Astarion's arms and it brings him back to his own task. "Hey, hey! Where do you think you're going?!" He holds Gale down with a firm press on his shoulders. The wizard barely has the strength to sit again without simply falling.

"I need t-to help! I've already fucked this up, I can't..."

Again, he tries to stand. Again, Astarion pulls him back down. "You didn't fuck up anything! You decided to live! That doesn't make you responsible!"

"No, no, you don't- I am! I let them- Gods, they'll be slaughtered! Everyone in Baldur's Gate is going to die because of me! I have to make it right now, while the army's still within the orb's radius! I can still fix this-"

"Stop!" Astarion grabs his face with both hands. "Stop talking! This is not your fault! None of this is! It's Thorm and the Absolute and that brain! Not you!"

"But I can-"

"You are not a god, Gale! This is not your burden! If Mystra really wanted to save Baldur's Gate, she would've come here and saved it herself, not sent a single mortal to die!"

Astarion doesn't let go of his hold, but he does relax his fingers. Small crescents remain from where his fingernails dug into Gale's jaw and Astarion rubs the skin slowly, as if he could wipe them away. "I want you to live. I want you to want to live. Not for me, not for Mystra or anyone else but yourself."

Gale stares back at him, silent streams of tears rolling down his cheeks and into his beard. Without thinking, Astarion leans forward to kiss them away. His lips linger there, then move to touch against Gale's own.

The touch is gentle -so achingly gentle- yet it feels like something has ignited in Astarion's chest. He feels raw with the swirl of emotions: sorrow, anger, desperation. He kisses each of them into Gale's lips until all he can feel is warmth.

It only hits him after he pulls away, that this is the first kiss he's wanted.

"Promise me..." Gale breathes, so very vulnerable. "Promise there's more after this. Promise that if I live, I won't regret it."

"I promise." Astarion kisses him again, sealing his words like a wax stamp.

When they break away this time, it's to the sounds of the battle. Spells and clinking swords echo over them as it has before; but this time, it is not overwhelming. This time, Astarion feels confident they'll survive, if only to keep his promise.

It doesn't last long after they join the fray. Thorm was already bloodied by the time Astarion snuck to Aylin and released her from her bindings. Even the monster of Myrkul didn't stand a chance against them.

And once it's all over, once Tav has guided them to safety and they're able to lick their wounds, Astarion finds Gale again and kisses him over and over until the man has to pull away to breathe. They laugh and hold each other, their relief shared.

"I love you," Gale confesses, his words spoken like a prayer.

"I...I love you, Gale." Astarion says. "I love you so much."

Chapter 16: The End: Epilogue

Notes:

Eplolouge! This chapter won't be nearly as long, but I've added some of my favorite parts of Act 3!

"At long last, we arrive at Baldur's Gate." Tav gazes out at the city. Civilians mill about with their own lives, going to and from buildings as they please. The voices blend together like the strings of the Weave, reminding Gale of his times in the Astral Plane, now powerful the magic felt buzzing just at his fingertips.

"It feels...unworthy of its grand title." Tav decides and Wyll is quick to defend his home.

"Might I remind you that this is only the lower levels of the city? Baldur's Gate has so much more to offer than this individual section -but even still, there is much more here than meets the eye. Just look! Every single building is filled with people and each person has a purpose and reason to be here. I'm sure there will be plenty of shops, libraries, and even more for us to indulge in."

Tav nods slowly, then a smile pulls at her lips. "I relent my opinion. For now." She gives him a peck on his cheek, her eyes dripping with sweet love.

Gale steps up before they can waste another moment just standing here. "Might I suggest we find lodging? I believe we could all benefit from a bed and warm meal after the terror we've encountered."

"Oh, you've read my mind, Dearest!" Astarion rests his chin on Gale's shoulder as he flashes his fangs at the lot of them. His fingers dance at Gale's waist, as if he's itching to do something else with them but has settled for this display of affection.

It's only partially offensive.

"And once we've all rested our pretty heads, we can form a plan worthy of killing a full vampire?"

"And I still need to find my parents," Shadowheart adds, as if they've forgotten already. "Ever since we talked to that Sharran in the Rivington camps, I've felt this impending doom concerning them. After the things I did under Shar...I'm not sure what state we'll find them in."

Gale was going to bring up the Karsus Crown, especially after Tav decided to sell it off to Raphael of all people -something he still can't quite believe- but he bites his tongue. They have enough on their plate already and they all know that Astarion's master and Shadowheart's parents come first.

But as soon as they enter that library, Gale can't guarantee he'll have so much patience.

"Yes. Lead us, Wyll." Tav gestures the warlock ahead. "You know this city best. Find us a place to stay and from there, we will discuss Cazador."

---

Tav doesn't speak once Orin's gone. She can't.

She has taken someone and replaced them with her own tricks. Someone from their camp, one of her friends, is within that shka'keth's bloody hands.

"I will rip Orin's head from her shoulders and revel in the taste of her blood. If she has taken my kin..." Tav shakes with rage at the mere thought. Lae'zel is a capable warrior and a fierce gith in her own right. Vlaakith would be honored to call her kith'rak, if their queen wasn't as vile as Orin.

And yet, Tav hurts. The githyanki are trained to expect no kindness, no offers of mercy, and no rescue. They both sought out a Creche out of nothing but fear for their own beings. Tav remembers the night they sat together under the moon, no words needed to express their horror at becoming ghaik.

But Tav is different now. Her kin are wrong and Vlaakith is false. Tav will save Lae'zel, whether she expects it or not.

"Karlach was at camp too," Wyll says. "But surely she wouldn't put up a fight. Both of them would. We must trust in our friends."

He's right. Tav knows he's right, but-

"Gale."

Tav turns to Astarion. The vampire looks back at her with a rare fear. She doesn't need to ask. She feels that fear herself.

"Gale is at camp." His voice doesn't tremble, but his strength has left him without his charm and aloof smiles.

Orin will suffer for every ache she has inflicted upon them and then tenfold that. "We must trust our friends to be strong," Tav says, both to reassure them and herself. "Come. We mustn't speak of this to those at the inn. Orin cannot catch us unawares again."

Yet, once they get there, all seems normal. Astarion keeps from rushing to his lover's side, his face never giving way to his concerns. Wyll and Shadowheart do the same, making casual conversation with those who stayed behind as if nothing were amiss.

As if Orin hadn't stolen one of them away and dared to stand where they did.

Days pass with no work of Orin. Tav fears she may never find their traitor, or that Orin has sent them astray in hopes she will distrust her own allies. Stupidly, she nearly forgets about it entirely, allowing both Gale and Lae'zel into her team as they prepare for Cazador.

It is then that Yenna feeds her the cat. It is then that Tav realizes she has failed those she swore to protect.

---

"Help me finish the ritual!" Astarion snaps, his hands over Cazador's weak body. "Quickly!"

"No," Tav says, defiant. She takes a step away, her armor dripping with gore and blood. Her eyes are hard as she stares down at him. "I will not help you become Cazador."

Astarion's eyes go wide, but he's not surprised. They had talked about this many times already, the three of them. Not at once, but Gale heard enough of Astarion's ramblings to gather that Tav wouldn't approve of his ascension. It would give him power, more so than a normal vampire lord. He would be all that Cazador dreamed of being and Gale supported him in the choice. Why wouldn't they use this ritual for their own gain? Why not allow Astarion the feeling of absolute freedom?

But now, Gale sees this mess for what it really is. This is not power, it's control. Control to kill every single person he and his spawn 'brothers and sisters' lured away to their master. Thousands of lives for the gain of one. Astarion would be subjecting them all to the very fate he himself wanted to break free from.

Yet, even that doesn't fully sway Gale. He understands costs. Mystra knows he's read countless stories of ultimate prices and power gained only through loss. He knows better than anyone.

But what stops him from following through, from helping him complete this rite, is the look in his eyes. The anger and hunger. It belongs to a monster, the vampire in him. It demanded control when he had none. It shouts and screams to be heard, to grab everyone else by the strings and play with them as Cazador played with him.

So, when Astarion then turns to him, commanding he help, Gale too steps away. "This isn't what you want." He says. "This power...it's empty, Astarion. It will give you no more satisfaction to finish this ritual than it would to burn an anthill."

"You..." Astarion's anger begins to melt away. He stares at Gale, then down at Cazador. Emotions pass over him, wave after wave. Then, he finally goes limp. "You're right."

Astarion cries, once he's free. He cries and sobs and curls into himself, covered in blood and void of proper clothing. Gale doesn't rush to his side as he so wants to. He knows what touch would mean at this point, even a touch from him. So, he lets Astarion feel as he does, then offers whatever he can once they're leaving the damned palace.

Hoards of spawn have been let free into the Underdark and it could spell doom for so many, but Gale trusts his decision. He knows this is the best choice for all of them, especially Astarion. It's a sacrifice with a loss on either end, but Gale is starting to realize that power may not be every answer.

He can only hope Astarion would do the same.

---

When Gale returns from his little...talk with Mystra, Astarion is quick to gather any sign of pain he can find.

And gods does he find it.

"After all this time, I've forgotten the awe of seeing her in her plane." Gale's breathless, his eyes starry yet closed off. It's an odd expression and one Astarion does not like. "I've been a fool. I can only hope she forgives me for my ignorance."

Tav gives Astarion a look. She too feels the possessive anger, even if it's not quite as potent as Astarion's. The elf wants to find Mystra himself, rip away her pretty little head and dance in her blood. Tav likely would be satisfied by a simple murder.

"I pull Mystra from the heavens and sing to her blissful screams," Tav tells him once they're out of Gale's earshot.

Then again, perhaps he was wrong.

---

Gale has it. The crown is his, it's Netherese weave pulsing around him. Gale can hardly breathe past his awe.

Yet, when he looks to Tav, he sees a familiar disapproval. The same expression is on Astarion's face -who hides under a large enough cape to shield him entirely from the sun. It shocks Gale enough to make his thoughts of godhood halt, if only for a moment.

"No. No, you cannot make me refuse this! After all of this, I deserve godhood! I can take Mystra's domain from her very fingers! I can be the very thing she feared me becoming!" This is it, his revenge. His proof to Mystra, to the former Tav, that he is worth more than the orb. He is Gale of Waterdeep, the greatest wizard of this time. He earned this crown. If he's lived all this time, refused to die the way he thought fate wanted of him, then why...why...

"Gale-" Astarion starts, but Gale cuts him off.

"I can't just hand this to Mystra! Not now! This is letting her win!"

Astarion frowns. He's calm and Gale doesn't know how to handle it, so he holds the crown closer to his chest, feeling how it calls to the orb. "Gale, you didn't let me ascend."

"So this is about revenge-"

"-I wasn't finished, Darling," Astarion speaks firmly now. "You didn't let me ascend because of what it would do to me. I...I nearly lost myself in my selfish hunger. I have you and Tav to thank for that and now, I'll do the same for you. As fun as godhood sounds."

He...he can't comprehend it. Why would Astarion deny him this? He doesn't feel changed, doesn't feel anything but rage and-

Gale looks down at the crown. He feels its power for what it is: an incomplete strand of Weave. Power that failed Karsus.

Petty revenge.

He wants the crown. He wants that power and a chance at divinity, but Gale also sees this desire for what it is. What good is another prideful deity? What point is godhood if he'll only be caught up in his own hubris?

Gale hands the crown to Tav before he can change his mind. She takes it, then offers him a grateful look as she turns away. With Raphael dead, there's no concern of the devil taking it for himself. But even still, the thought of giving it to Mystra as some kind of faithful offering leaves Gale with a sour taste.

But once it's all said and done and Gale can finally return to his lover's side, Astarion pulls him close and plants a sweet kiss against his lips. "Thank you." The vampire says, his voice bleeding with sincerity.

"You're hardly the one who should be grateful. I suppose we both could've lost ourselves to the lure of something greater."

"Yes, I suppose so." Astarion relents. "But that's why Tav is here, right? To keep us just the right amount of prideful."

He doesn't want to admit it, but Astarion is right.

"Now let's get out of this sun before someone sees us." It's said with a twinge of sadness that Gale knows will be a heavy topic later -if once they find safety.

And a topic it is. With Lae'zel returning to her plane and the rest off in Avernus, Gale is left to comfort Astarion on his own. He holds the elf as he cries in mourning of what he once had, the freedom to walk in the sun and live without the vampire's restrictions. It hurts to watch, but Gale doesn't lose hope as easily.

Once Astarion has recovered enough to listen, Gale pulls him tight and gathers his eyes with his own. "What if you came with me to Waterdeep?" Gale tries not to sound unsure. He needs Astarion to know that he's wanted by Gale's side, no matter what strange arrangments they will have to endure. "I can research the Wish spell and if all is successful, you will be able to feel the sun again. And perhaps your company would do well to ease the pain of your loss?" He can only hope his request isn't seen as a selfish means to avoid his loneliness.

Thankfully, Astarion's shoulders ease. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be. Certainly not in Cazador's place or that dreaded Underdark. Maybe I could get to know Tara better..."

Gale could laugh. "I think she'd share the sentiment. After all, you've kept me around for the second time. I owe you my life and joy."

"Ugh, we're so sappy." Astarion huffs as he wipes his eyes. Yet, a smile tugs at his lip. "But I want to share my life with you, however long it will be."

Leaning back against a pile of crates, Gale hums to himself. "A life of endless days spent researching and living beside the one I love. I'd almost say it's too good to be true." He can already picture a domestic Astarion meeting his mother and teaming against him with Tara. All for the sake of his good health, of course.

He can also picture Astarion slipping away at night to feed, perhaps coupled with the occasional murder of a random thief, just to keep his skills sharp.

It'll be difficult to navigate, but Astarion makes it worth it. This second life makes it worth it.

Here, beside his love, Gale knows exactly what he lives for.

Notes:

Okay, so it wasn't that much shorter than normal, but I hope you enjoyed this ending! I fully enjoyed writing this fic and engaging with so many other amazing fans of this game and ship! Thank you all for this experience!

Notes:

I will be posting chapters every Sunday and Thursday, so look out for them!