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The city was pleasant for the most part. While it was certainly louder than years of isolation, it was no more than background noise once one became used to far-off hustle and bustle. However, that did not stop certain individuals from trying to carve out quiet enclaves for themselves.
Tara was one such beast. Despite her proclivities for walking alongside cobblestone streets and wandering about, the tressym often enjoyed and preferred the quiet. Upon the roof of the tower, there was evidence of this commitment - a small nest adorned with feathers and raised far above the louder crowds.
Though he often reassured his mother and Tara that he was seeking friendship with other mortals, Tara knew that her pet human was more often than not bound to end up spending the day toiling inside the tower. He was quite stubborn in that way, a trait long cemented and often discouraged. When Gale had finally returned home after his disappearance from the city, Tara had, of course, informed Morena as soon as possible. Much to the wizard’s chagrin, both his tressym and his mother were unwilling to part from his space for the first two weeks back. Every moment not spent speaking was but filled with all manner of questions, especially regarding his sudden abduction and return.
This questioning was shut down after much effort by the end of dinner on the fifteenth day. Autumn leaves had begun falling outside the window. Morena had sat down and drank her tea and shared the table with her son, hoping to continue her doting. Gale, however, had grown exhausted of the daily procedure. Before she could set her cup down to ask another question, Gale spoke up.
“Mother, I do very much appreciate your concern for my well-being. However, I must ask that you relent with your questioning. I am, for lack of a better word, extremely tired and would like nothing more than to return to my daily routine.”
Tara had perked up at that, listening from her curled up form upon a cushion situated in the corner of the kitchen. Mr. Dekarios had rarely ever challenged Morena, and even more rarely did he admit his own exhaustion.
The woman in question set down her cup with an assertive clink. Gale was uncomfortable, trying his best to seem assured while also clearly weary of what his mother might say. Tara roused from her rest to comfort him, dragging herself along his legs beneath the table.
“You know you can’t simply go back to sitting alone in this tower all day,” Morena responded. It was neither unkind nor scornful - rather, it was full of concern.
“I’m not alone,” Gale started. “I have Tara and… the guild and…” He swallowed.
“A tressym is not a substitute for another person, Gale. Should I perhaps contact Elminster and ask him to come by?”
“No!” he winced at his tone, betraying his true feelings in an outburst of upset. Gale took a deep breath before continuing, “No, Mother, I would rather you don’t.”
“Is something the matter? You never seemed this skittish about him coming by before,” Morena responded, tracing the rim of her cup with her pointer finger. Her eyebrows knit together in concern.
Tara hopped up on Gale’s lap, kneading at the soft flesh of his thighs while the man tried to form an answer that would not raise his mother’s concern or fear. Nervous hands landed on the back of the animal, the textured fur grounding him in reality.
“I… um, I would rather not discuss the matter now, Mother,” Gale finally settled on. “I have much to do and I would rather not make the tasks more difficult for myself than need be.”
It wasn’t a lie, per say. It just wasn’t the full truth. The full truth would be admitting to his own defeat, his incompetencies, and his lack of confidence. It would mean admitting that he was unsure how to go on living his life like he had before. The very idea made his throat close up.
“I will be sure to keep an eye on Mr. Dekarios,” Tara spoke up, looking up from the kneading of Gale’s lap. “I wish him to recover soon, Morena, and I can see his experiences have done little but exhaust him. He needs rest.”
Morena still looked on with an eye of parental worry, her tea growing cold on the table. She had always tried to make decisions to support what she saw as best for her son, and she was unsure what that was. However, it seemed as though Tara’s confirmation decreased her distress enough to relinquish control.
“I understand. I will be going then. I trust you’ll think before making any decisions, no matter how small.”
Gale exhaled in relief, his shoulders untensing and eyes refocusing on the table in front of him, empty plate and all. He wasn’t fully relaxed yet, but the situation certainly felt less volatile.
“Thank you, Mother. I know I have always asked you to trust me in the most impossible moments. But truly, it does mean more than you know.”
Morena stood from the table, finishing her tea in one sip. She walked to dispense her cup near the washbasin, stopping to kiss her son on the crown of his head and give him a hug. She gently pet Tara between the ears, a silent agreement to watch over Gale.
“Just don’t disappear on me again,” she murmured.
The wizard leaned into the hug, placing his hand on his mother’s arm before responding. “I will do my best to remain.”
Satisfied, Morena left Gale at the table, planning to remove her items from the guest room and return back to her abode. Though she was loath to admit it, trusting her son was not always the easiest decision. She could only hope this situation would end better than the one with the Orb.
Tara could not recall a time when Gale had slept so much, stared so much out the window, save a week long bout of illness in childhood. She gently paced around the tower, leaving to capture a pigeon every now and then, but always returned to see Gale in some form of disconnect from reality.
He kept the same routine: Awaken in the late morning, rise and eat a simple breakfast, return to his bed or study or library and read for hours, occasionally eat something sparse for dinner, spend some time staring at the hearth, go back to bed and sleep. Throughout the whole thing, his eyes remained dull, as if any light within him had been dimmed like an oil lamp. Every day, Tara had encouraged him to go out or speak to another person, to no avail.
After weeks of this routine, a rolled parchment arrived at the door. Few communications had been delivered to the tower, mainly concerning responsibilities or events from the local mage’s guild. Tara had sniffed the letter, which smelled of bergamot, rosemary, and faintly of brandy. Undoing the wax seal revealed a letter written in loopy handwriting.
Gale,
I hope this letter finds you alive. I would say “alive and well” but I think we both understand that asking to feel well is a bit of a difficult ask right now. I had hoped you would write as you said you would, but I have yet to receive communications from the Great Wizard of Waterdeep. As such, I have taken it upon myself to contact you.
I will be passing through Waterdeep in a few days after this letter should arrive. If you’re amenable, it would be a pleasure to see you again. Of course, I don’t doubt you’ve missed me and this biting wit. My looks are surely a welcome bonus.
If you, Gale, are dead or this letter ends up in the hands of anyone aside from the intended wizard, do please ignore it. I have no intentions to go about fraternizing with someone I do not know.
Stars preserve us both,
Astarion
Tara, noting the letter had come from a name spoken several times by her pet, set off to deliver the missive to the wizard in question. First, to the library, expecting to see him sat in one of the large chairs near the windows, book in hand and reading glasses on. However, he was nowhere to be found. The study returned a similar vacancy, so Tara trotted down the hall to the largest bedroom.
The door was cracked only slightly, which Tara pushed open gently to reveal Gale, laying under blankets, staring blankly out the window. His book, something on the casting of spells regarding light and shadow, had been abandoned and tossed aside on the comforter.
“Mr. Dekarios?” Tara started, hoping to not scare the man, approaching one side of the bed slowly.
No reply.
“Mr. Dekarios?” she spoke louder, noting the tears beading at the bottom lashline of his round eyes. “Are you alright?”
As if teleported back into his body, Gale scrambled to a sitting position, wiping his eyes, and smiling in the artificial way he did when he didn’t want to burden his companion. He ran a hand through his hair, the grey flashing in the sunlight.
“Ah, Tara. Apologies. I seem to have been somewhere else for a moment there. Can I help you?” His voice was rough with disuse.
If Tara had eyebrows, she would have raised one in apprehension. The beard, which she loathed to begin with, had clearly not been maintained in several days and dark circles surrounded deep set eyes. He was in the same pajamas he had been wearing for the last four days.
“You’ve received some mail, Mr. Dekarios. Should I leave it for you? Or would you prefer I read it?”
Gale waved a hand flippantly, responding, “The mage’s guild sends far too much through the carrier.”
“Mr. Dekarios, this isn’t-”
“Really, you would think they would stop sending things after a lack of response but they seem quite bent on ensuring my reception,” he rambled to distract himself, staring back out the window.
“But this-”
“Truly, if it were a friend, I could understand sending letters repeatedly. But from a guild to a citizen who is not even a member? Completely absurd.”
“Mr. Dekarios, if you would-”
“I’ll read it later, Tara. Thank you,” he interrupted, a sense of finality in his voice. It was the same voice he had used after receiving the news from Elminster. It was a voice of dismissal, a request for solitude.
Tara sighed. When Gale got like this, there was nearly no way to get him back in high spirits. So she trotted over and hopped upon the nightstand, depositing the letter before gently landing back on the carpet.
“Please be well, Mr. Dekarios.”
Gale hummed in response, again lost to whatever disconnect he had been floating in prior to Tara’s interruption. She had made a point not to comment on the unshed tears in his eyes. It would only make things worse.
Three days later, there was a knock on the wooden door in the evening. The sun had set and Gale had assumed his position in one of his chairs, staring into the crackling hearth as Tara lay on the pillow set beside him. Hearing the knock, she stood up and stretched, noting how the wizard had little reaction to the noise.
“Mr. Dekarios?”
“Hm?” He sounded far off, as if he had projected his soul away and left a mirror image in his wake.
“There is someone at the door,” Tara responded, curving her back and extending her wings before trotting off.
She could hear a grunt as the man stood up behind her, dragging his feet after her as she made her way to the entrance of the tower. Deliveries surely didn’t come this late and Morena never arrived without warning. It was all rather peculiar, and Tara wanted to be there in case anything happened.
Another set of knocking came from the engraved door, a set of short raps at the center of the frame.
“Yes, I’m coming!” Gale called as he followed Tara, some light irritation in his voice. He wrapped his robe around himself more as he got further from the fire.
More knocks came from the door a few moments later.
“I said I’m coming!” Gale repeated, annoyance audible in his voice. He looked to Tara, who seemed disappointed in his shortened temper.
“Mr. Dekarios, I’m sure it’s nothing that you can’t deal with.”
She nodded her head towards the door as he approached, as if reminding him that he was to be pleasant and cordial with whomever had stopped at the tower that night. Gale seemed to deflate a bit, his eyebrows still displaying his crossness as he turned the doorknob.
“Really, Tara, I think-” he began, before turning to the visitor in question. His voice caught in his throat.
Tara could smell the bergamot, rosemary, and brandy. Underneath, she could smell faint notes of fresh dirt and iron. The man was tall, pale, and lithe, with a coiffed hairstyle and eyes the color of blood. He had wrapped himself in a black cloak, a dagger strapped to his thigh flashing in the moonlight. This was the Astarion of the letter.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” the man said, smiling slightly. “So nice to see you again, darling.” He bowed his head, much like one would greet another formally.
Gale seemed to straighten up, running a hand through his hair and bringing a hand to his chin, feeling the overgrown beard along his jawline.
“I… um, hello, Astarion,” he managed, looking the other man up and down.
Astarion chuckled and smirked. “I didn’t think my good looks would manage to make even the great Gale of Waterdeep speechless. Then again, I’m hardly surprised.”
Tara butted her head up against Gale’s leg, trying to remind him of his manners. Seeing nothing else was coming out of the man as he stared, Tara sighed.
“Wonderful to finally meet you, Astarion,” Tara said, curtsying as much as a tressym can. “I apologize for Mr. Dekarios. He seems to be in a moment of shock.”
Astarion crouched down, offering his hand for Tara to sniff. She was content to do so and push her head into his hand.
“I see we both have been well acquainted with the wizard, hm? He’s not usually so quiet, though,” the vampire pondered cheekily.
“Yes,” she started. “Mr. Dekarios has been out of sorts for the last few moons, so he might be acting a bit unusually. I had hoped he would start making an effort within the next few days.”
“I… will be back shortly,” Gale finally managed, disappearing back into the tower. Tara noted he was retreating in the direction of his bedroom.
Tara stepped aside and nodded. “Would you like to come in, Mr. Astarion?”
The spawn smirked more, commenting, “Oh the formalities aren’t necessary, Tara. I haven’t been a magistrate in years.” He stepped through the threshold of the doorway.
The tower was simultaneously what he had expected and yet full of surprises. By the washbasin, a stack of dishes, primarily teacups, had accumulated. The table was slightly empty, save a few flyers advertising the local mage guild. The wood-burning stove was empty of any pots or pans. Had the dishes not been there, it would be hard to believe anyone had used the kitchen area.
Further into the home was a hearth, crackling carefully. Two deep purple chairs were arranged opposite one another, a side table and olive green cushion on the floor next to one of them. Upon the side table was a cup of tea that was steadily growing cold. The chair on the side with the table and the cushion seemed significantly more used than the other. A circular woven rug adorned the wooden floor, a knit of deep indigo, purple, and gold.
A spiraling staircase led upstairs. Next to it, a hallway led further into the tower, with four shut doors - one at the end of the hall, two on one wall, and one on the other. The door at the end of the hallway was barely open but sounds of movement could be heard from the other side. A long rug ran down the length of the hallway, another dark purple tapestry covering the wooden floor.
Sconces with magical fire gave the whole space a warm amber hue. The air smelled like Gale, Astarion noted. The air smelled somewhat of ozone, as if lightning had recently struck, mixed with the aroma of burning wood, parchment, and dried lavender, which could be spotted hanging above the washbasin.
Tara led Astarion towards the hearth and nodded towards the newer looking chair, settling in her cushion. The elf sat down as prompted, and crossed his legs, leaning into the fabric, warmed by proximity to the fire. Tara settled into her spot, peering curiously up at the guest.
“So I take it Gale didn’t get the letter?” Astarion began, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt.
Tara laughed a little before continuing. “Oh no, he received the letter. He simply wasn’t interested in what it had to say, despite my best intentions.”
The elf’s ears seemed to droop down, a signal of slight upset. His red eyes blazed in the light of the fire, illuminating them like rubies.
“He didn’t want to read what I wrote?” he asked, pretending to not be affected.
“It has nothing to do with you, Mr. Astarion,” Tara responded. “I informed him he had a letter and he refused to believe it was anything but more mail from the mage guild down the way from here. He’s quite stubborn when he wants to be.”
“He is, isn’t he?” Astarion said, ears returning to their default position. “Did he ever mention me?”
When Gale wasn’t around, Astarion was much more guarded about things, Tara noticed. Neither had mentioned how they met, but she recalled the latter’s name being included in stories surrounding his abduction and return to the city. It had been said with an air of fondness and melancholy.
“He did, in fact. Quite frequently, actually. He brought you up quite often when discussing his unfortunate escapades.”
The man did not blush as Tara expected him to. Rather, he adjusted his sitting position and cleared his throat, seeming a bit uncomfortable with the information.
“I can’t blame him,” he responded with a practiced false confidence. “I’m known for enchanting others with my charms and my wit. Surely the great Gale of Waterdeep is no exception.”
Tara laughed. “You speak of him and his title as if he was advertised to you or discussed rather than met.”
“Yes, well, he surely made a first impression that implied he wanted to be.” Astarion chuckled a little too. “Found it quite annoying at first, honestly.”
Tara recalled when Gale had begun calling himself by such a title. He had been deep in his tryst with Mystra, hardly allowing himself space for anything else. He spoke bombastically and enthusiastically of his own skill, trying to prove to others that he was as impressive as he claimed. But Tara knew it was a front, an attempt to get others to admire him in a way Mystra never had.
Gale only wanted adoration and companionship, not tolerance and courteousness. It had been the same with the small child who summoned her. It was still the case years later.
“At first? Have your opinions changed?” Tara prodded, rearranging herself in her cushions.
Astarion stopped for a moment and thought. “Yes, I now find him rather charming, don’t you? He simply wants others to like him.” It was said with an air of fondness instead of envy or scorn.
It was said as if Astarion knew how badly Gale had wanted someone, anyone to care.
From the hallway, Tara could hear Gale muttering to himself, coming towards the two sitting by the hearth.
“I think you understand Mr. Dekarios far better than any of his so-called ‘friends’ before,” Tara said firmly. “He will be rejoining us shortly.”
At that, Astarion smiled gently. It was nothing like his showy smirk or his attempts at charm. It was genuine and crooked and made the smile lines around his mouth soften. He looked younger, somehow. It was as if a mask had been lifted away to reveal the softness beneath.
“You flatter me, Miss Tara,” he said. “I simply don’t know what I would have done without him.”
Gale stumbled back towards them as their conversation was finished. His hair was wet, his beard trimmed, and he was no longer wearing his pajamas. He smelled of soap and lavender. He was also nearly out of breath. Astarion stood from the chair when Gale came closer.
“I, um, apologize, Astarion,” he said. “I was not expecting you to visit without notice.”
Astarion smirked again, but it was more genuine this time. “Well, dear wizard,” he started. “The lovely Tara here has informed me that you did receive my letter but failed to put your brain to work and read it. Had you done so, you would know this visit is not without notice.”
Gale, catching his breath more, turned to the tressym. “Is this true?”
Tara kneaded at her bed contentedly. “I assure you, it is. Do you remember that letter you refused to entertain?”
The man flushed a bright red, running his hands through his wet hair. The shoulders of his robes were becoming soaked due to his undried waves and he seemed to not know what to do about the situation. The earring that had long adorned his left ear was absent and had been for months. Astarion looked on, that same gentle smirk on his face as he took in the wizard’s freshened but ragged appearance.
“Ah, yes, well, I apologize,” he muttered. “I see I have been less than attentive to my duties and obligations. I hope you have been well, Astarion.”
The latter smiled in kind, stepping closer to Gale. “You speak so grimly. Have you not been well the past few weeks? Tara did mention something about being out of sorts.”
Gale stopped for a moment at that and tried to make eye contact with his familiar. Tara, pointedly, did not meet his eyeline. She had nagged him and now refused to let him back out of a circumstance of his own making.
Astarion flashed his ruby eyes between the two, laughing slightly before stepping forward and pretending to flick something from Gale’s shoulder.
“I didn’t think you the kind of man to argue with a cat, darling,” he chuckled.
“She is… um, she’s a tressym ,” Gale muttered out, flushing in the face. His stuttering, normally minimal under practiced fluid speech, seemed exceptionally prominent around the other man.
From the shoulder, the vampire lifted his hand to tuck a piece of hair behind the other’s right ear, which only furthered the deep red color on Gale’s face.
“You always were such a particular man,” Astarion hummed. “But that’s simply a part of your charm, hm?” His eyes sparkled and Gale redirected his gaze in embarrassment.
Tara had thought Gale might be harboring some deeper feelings for his former traveling companion, but she hadn’t dared to say anything. Prior to Mystra, the wizard had only entertained crushes on one or two others and remained staunchly silent about them. Even to his closest friend, matters of Gale’s heart were always kept close to his chest.
“So, um, Astarion,” the wizard began. “What brings you to Waterdeep? Last I recall, you had plans to remain in Baldur’s Gate, were you not?”
Astarion grabbed Gale by the chin, turning his eyes back so they were looking directly at one another. His lithe pale fingers stood out against the darkness of Gale’s beard and tanner skin.
“I did have those plans. However, I found myself missing a certain someone,” the spawn replied. “And here he is, having failed to offer me a drink. I thought you a gentleman, Gale!” He spoke as if scandalized.
Gale stepped back, breaking free of Astarion’s stare and hand. Hands brushed at his robe, adjusting seams that were otherwise settled comfortably. Cheeks were still aflame with blood.
“Yes, I should do that, shouldn’t I?” he commented, turning towards the kitchen area under a scrutinizing look. “I’m sure I could find some wine you would find acceptable.”
Pleased, Astarion moved to return to his seat, resting his hand in his right palm. His eyes flicked to Tara before returning to his host.
“What a lovely idea, darling,” he remarked. “I’ll wait right here.”
With a nod and mumble, Gale made his way to the pantry in search of alcohol. Tara, rising from her cushion, pounced upon the arm of Astarion’s chair, tail waving back and forth.
“He’s quite pliant with you,” Tara noted. “Rarely does he even bring out the wine for his mother.”
Astarion raised a hand and petted her head gently. “He’s always had a bit of a soft spot for me, so to speak.”
And I for him remained unspoken but understood between the two. The air of affection was much different than when Mystra made herself known to the inhabitants of the tower. This was much lighter, softer, more honest.
Moments of silence passed, graced only by the sound of fur being ruffled, as tressym and vampire spawn waited for their wizard to return from his chore. Though Astarion was far from warm, Tara found him suspiciously comfortable, curling at his side in the chair. Eventually, Gale did return, holding a bottle of wine by the neck in a way typically reserved for proud hunters and their bounty. He smiled, eyes crinkling, and raised his other hand, occupied by two glasses.
“I found a vintage… I think it’s from…” He paused, squinting at the label. “Certainly from somewhere along the Sword Coast. I hope it will suffice. I don’t entertain much, to put it lightly, so this is one of the better bottles I have available.”
Astarion raised his head and smiled that sideways genuine grin.
“Oh, it’s no trouble, dear,” he replied. “You don’t need to spoil me.”
Tara could hear Gale pouring the glasses full of the wine before stepping closer and handing one to Astarion. A small gasp escaped.
“You must be magical, Astarion. Tara… she rarely allows herself to be so close to anyone aside from myself or my mother.”
Another languished pet made its way down Tara’s curled body. She curled tighter in comfort.
“She and I seem to have the same goal, it seems.”
“And what would that be, my friend?”
“We want to keep an eye on you.”
It was said confidently. Though her eyes were closed, the tressym could imagine the open mouth look Gale was likely giving the other. It was a look of fond surprise, his eyebrows raised but relaxed.
When Gale had yet to respond, Astarion continued, “Now sit, my dear. We have much to catch up on, do we not?”
Tara awoke a few hours later, prepared to go hunting for a pigeon or two. Bright moonlight filtered itself through the window panes. Her pupils dilated in the darkness, taking in the sight of the two men, who seemed to have remained in each other’s company before one retired to sleep.
Gale was resting against the arm of the chair, a hand supporting his head. His empty glass was sitting on the small table next to him, alongside his cold cup of tea and a significantly more empty wine bottle. His legs were tucked under himself, and any fitfulness usually accompanying his rest was gone. The cloak Astarion had been wearing was draped over the other’s shoulders.
Astarion was still awake, Tara noted. Though the hearth had burned out, he easily looked towards Gale, eyes fond and soft. Another wine glass was left on the ground beside the chair and one leg had been tucked under the other. Sensing Tara’s movement, he looked down to her.
“Heading somewhere, Miss Tara?” he asked quietly, so as to not disturb Gale.
She hummed in affirmation. “I find myself quite peckish.” She gave a quick nod towards the other man. “I see he fell asleep before giving you a place to retire.”
“It’s truly no problem,” Astarion noted. “After all, our travels certainly had us resting in less comfortable quarters.”
“Nonsense,” Tara stated, jumping to the floor. “Please follow me.”
Nearly silent, Astarion did so as she padded her way to the long hallway, stopping at the second door on the right.
“This is the guest room. Morena visited recently, so please forgive if it is in less than perfect condition. Gale would have normally cleaned up by now.”
The spawn crouched down, again scritching Tara on the head before speaking. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. Thank you, Miss Tara. Best wishes on your hunting.”
He stood up, pushing open the door softly and stepped into the dim room. A single beam of moonlight pushed itself through the otherwise closed curtains, illuminating a bed and a small desk.
“Good night, Miss Tara,” Astarion said before moving to close the door.
“Good night, Mr. Astarion,” Tara responded, walking herself towards the stairs so she could exit the tower. “Have a restful evening.”
The next morning, Tara returned to the first floor and found Gale still asleep in the armchair, Astarion’s cloak bound tightly around him like a blanket. The owner of the cloak was standing in the kitchen area. The curtains had been drawn closed but several candles kept the room from being completely dim.
Astarion seemed to be sipping a cup of tea and reading the flyers for the mage guild, leaning against the counter with legs crossed at the ankles. His hair was slightly rumpled but still relatively perfect, eyes flitting quickly across the words on the page in front of him.
“Good morning, sir,” Tara spoke, making her way to the bowl of water near the washbasin.
Astarion flinched slightly in surprise before relaxing when he realized it was only her. His shoulders relaxed, as did the corners of his mouth.
“Ah, hello, Tara,” he replied. “Did you have good luck hunting last night?”
She nodded after drinking from her water.
“I did. Thank you for asking. I see Mr. Dekarios is still asleep.”
“I didn’t want to wake him,” Astarion explained. “He seemed so tired yesterday and gods know he needs all the rest he can get.”
Tara hummed in approval. “He is quite terrible at managing himself when he wants to be.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” the other said, slightly somber. “He nearly blew himself up and then had the gall to ask if the rest of us were okay.” A sigh. “I worry that he doesn’t care for himself at all.”
“I’m sure your being around will help,” Tara commented, moving to go settle herself in the wizard’s lap. “You did see how he ran to go fix himself up when you arrived.”
Astarion was silent at that, remembering all the moments Gale had rushed to fix his hair or straighten his robes before speaking to the vampire. Originally, he had written it off as an awkwardness with social interaction. Given what Tara said, it seemed more as though Gale was concerned with how Astarion saw him. Much to think about.
“What does Gale usually eat for breakfast?” he eventually inquired.
“He usually only eats porridge or a cup of tea and a slice of bread these days,” the tressym said. “He used to eat eggs and sausage with toast before this depression he’s in.”
Astarion hummed at that before continuing. “Miss Tara, could I convince you to go to the nearest market for me?”
She turned her head around to look at the man. “Whatever for?”
“I think Mr. Dekarios might deserve to have someone make him breakfast today,” he replied. “And I… I unfortunately can no longer walk in the sun to go get it myself.”
Tara nodded. She had heard of Astarion’s unfortunate condition and his utter devastation at the removal of the tadpole. Gale had told the story, looking guilty for reasons she couldn’t quite place.
“Mind opening the door?” Tara asked, looking Gale’s companion in the eyes.
“Certainly,” Astarion nodded before doing so. “Thank you for your help.” The words seemed a bit hesitant, as if unpracticed.
“I will return shortly,” Tara announced. “And, Mr. Astarion?”
“Yes?” He seemed confused.
“Thank you for caring about Mr. Dekarios,” she stated, walking through the door. She decidedly did not look back, allowing the man some privacy. She was not going to be a witness to the feelings that were certainly expressed on his face.
Gale awoke to the smell of fire. He startled in the chair, concerned a candle had fallen or a dormant spell had gone awry. In his hurry to find the source of the smell, he took little notice of the cloak draped around his shoulders.
The first floor of the tower was dark, despite it feeling like early afternoon at the latest. Aside from a few candles here and there to illuminate corners, the space was draped in shadow. Wary so as not to run into anything, he ran towards the wood-burning stove, fear curdling in his chest.
While he expected to see a magma mephit or perhaps an over enthusiastic Karlach, he instead found a tressym and vampire spawn standing over a pan. Tara had perched herself on Astarion’s shoulder as the latter had been attempting to flip some frying eggs. Hearing Gale’s frantic approach, the two turned around.
“Good morning, Mr. Dekarios,” Tara crooned, jumping to the ground before winding herself through the man’s legs.
“Yes, good morning, darling,” Astarion echoed, removing the pan from the stove. “Sleep well? I’d say you look refreshed but, frankly, you look as if you’ve just run a marathon.” His lips turned upwards into a feline smile.
The excitement drained from Gale’s body like water through a sieve. Nothing had gone awry. Rather, his two closest companions were entertaining one another while he had slept. That had also explained the darkness - Astarion was still visiting.
“I… um,” Gale mumbled, readjusting his stance in an attempt to seem more casual. “I did sleep well, thank you.”
Looking over the space, there were small indicators of life throughout. The table, normally bare, had been cleared of the guild flyers. Instead, a plate containing what seemed to be a sweetroll and some sausage sat in the space before one of the chairs. A cup of steaming tea accompanied the food.
“Good,” Astarion responded smoothly, ushering Gale to sit. “You should eat before it gets cold.” With a flick of the wrist, the fried eggs joined the plate.
Obediently, the wizard moved to pull out the chair nearest the food. How long had it been since someone other than his mother had cooked for him? Sure, Wyll or Halsin or an inn along the way had provided him breakfast at points during his prior escapades, but none of those meals had been made explicitly for him alone.
“How did you-” Gale started, moving to grab the cup of tea with both hands.
Tara hopped into his lap and smiled knowingly, a twinkle in her eyes before nestling into his thighs. Astarion sat down next to them both, lounging in that way that Gale had always found looked obscenely uncomfortable, much to the former’s entertainment.
“This wonderful lady was an excellent help,” the vampire replied, leaning over to scritch the aforementioned tressym under the chin. “Now, eat. Otherwise, I’ll start thinking you care little for my hospitality.”
“I should be cooking for you - if you ate anything, that is.”
“Gale, darling? Stop thinking for once and eat your food.”
Over eggs, sausage, tea, and a sweetroll, Astarion was sure to catch up Gale on all that had occurred since they originally went their separate ways. Baldur’s Gate was still grounds for excellent gossip, but it all fell rather flat compared to the excitement they had endured beforehand. It certainly didn’t help that the vampire spawn couldn’t venture out during the sunlight hours.
Before Gale could apologize for failing to remedy that, the elf continued on, recounting the trials and tribulations of trying to rehabilitate all the remaining spawn his former master had left behind. It was as if caring for a pet or younger sibling, he said. Well, nearly seven thousand younger siblings who hadn’t seen the sunlight in decades.
By the time Astarion had finished recounting his own experiences, Gale had finished eating. The wizard had been sipping on his tea when the attention turned to him.
“So, I’m sure you’ve been keeping busy since our historic victory, yes?” Astarion asked, resting his head upon interlaced fingers. “What has the great ‘Gale of Waterdeep’ been up to?”
It took four short whacks to the back before Gale was no longer choking on his tea. In the struggle, Tara had abandoned his lap and retired to her kitchen floor cushion. At least the cushion would know better than to startle her while resting.
He had known this question was coming. But, all the same, he had hoped Astarion might allow him this one mercy. It seemed as though the gods would not be so kind today.
“Speechless? Trying to determine what to wow me with first?” Astarion asked as he grinned.
If only the other knew how much Gale was crumbling inside.
To show weakness was not a luxury afforded to men like Gale. The “great,” “powerful,” or “Chosen,” for that matter. Weakness was worse than death. It was a sign of incompetency.
“Well, I…” Gale tried to start, feeling his words choking him.
He debated if he should lie, take up the mantle of the chatterbox the party had come to know him as. Maybe he could invent some farcical tale that sounded just outlandish enough to be believable. Or he could recount something real, embellished with details and fantastical elements until it no longer resembled the ugly truth beneath.
Perhaps he could skirt around the question entirely. Astarion loved to speak of himself and getting him started would hardly be a challenge. It was simply an act of not answering the inquiry directly. It would certainly take a grand amount of skill but it was not impossible.
Bright red eyes gazed intently, sharply darting around his face, inspecting everything. It was as if he had been placed under a magnifying glass, all his imperfections enlarged for scrutiny. The rogue was highly perceptible and far more proficient in reading expressions than he. It was all shaping up to be rather disastrous for Gale.
“Oh, don’t be shy. I promise not to make too many jokes at your expense.”
He supposed it was supposed to be comforting - a metaphorical white flag waving among the waves threatening to sink him. But it was slowly becoming too much far too quickly. His thoughts clouded his vision.
“Gale?” Astarion asked, grabbing onto the wizard’s shoulders while cutting through the haze. “Are you alright?”
Gale opened his mouth to answer but it felt like he had just sunk beneath the surface. He could hear Astarion starting to panic in the background, a muffled thing as if cotton had been placed in his ears.
“Tara, has he ever done this before? What am I supposed to do?”
Hearing the anxiety in the words, Tara sprung from her cushion. This was familiar, unfortunately. It had been years since Gale’s last episode, but she could always sense when the stress began to threaten one. The last few years had constantly felt like a taut string, waiting to snap.
She knew and so did Gale. His eyes portrayed an understanding and dread often settled behind a wall of false confidence.
He so desperately wanted to snap out of it, dismiss it all with a laugh and a flip of the hand. He wanted others to stop fussing over him. He wanted to be able to make it through a conversation. He wanted the words to flow like they used to, before his feelings and thoughts had crowded his mind and left him to suffocate.
He didn’t want Astarion to see him like this.
Cold hands shook his shoulders vigorously. The room slowly faded back into focus. He noticed his breathing coming from his lips in labored gasps.
“Gods’ sake, you’re all right,” Astarion sighed. “I had no idea if you were having a heart attack or gods know what!”
“I…” Gale wanted to apologize. Before he could form the words in his mouth, the elf stopped him.
“Are you alright?”
It felt like a glass shattering. His composure finally cracking under the pressure of those red eyes and the cold skin through his shirt.
“I… I don’t know,” Gale admitted, slowing his breathing. “I truly don’t know.”
He half expected a comment mocking him, the great Gale of Waterdeep, for not knowing something. Or maybe, there would come a comment about how neither of them knew, so there was nothing they could do. He hoped a little for a snide remark that would tell him Astarion was no longer looking at him with pity.
“You haven’t been taking care of yourself,” Astarion said plainly. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact.
Morena had asked him if he was okay and he had always hummed in the affirmative, thinking little of it aside from a common courtesy. Tara rarely invaded his space and he rarely invaded hers. Mutual cohabitation did not necessarily mean there was much discussion. His stubbornness was certainly not helping.
“Why do you care?” Gale asked, sighing. “It’s not like I’m particularly special.”
Astarion had nothing to say about that. Any posturing or air of confidence had dissolved like mist in the air.
Under the table, the tressym was winding around Gale’s legs, headbutting them every so often in an attempt to ground him. She recalled days of his youth, face buried in her fur when he cried about Mystra or a spell that hadn’t gone right. He had been such a soft, sensitive boy. All that had changed was his age.
Gale reached down and scratched behind her ears, a gesture of comfort that might have soothed him more than it had her. She nuzzled into his hand, a way of reminding him that he wasn’t alone, she was here. It was one of their oldest coping skills.
Tara moved under the table to weave around and butt her head into Astarion’s legs. She knew he was struggling too. His body was so stiffened up, as if one push and he’d fall over, breaking into shards. Warm purrs rumbled from her throat, an attempt to comfort the elf. Though she knew relatively little about the other man, Gale had mentioned that it seemed like Astarion enjoyed gentle touch. The more she rubbed against his ankles, the more she could feel him relax.
“Why didn’t you write?” Astarion asked finally. “All alone here in your tower and you never thought to write?”
“Well, I haven’t been completely alone-”
“Your mother and tressym don’t count and you know that.”
Gale swallowed and looked slightly ashamed. His voice came out quietly.
“What would I have written? ‘Please come visit me because I’m lonely?’ Or ‘I don’t know how to exist anymore. Any advice?’”
“It would have been something at least,” Astarion mumbled.
It wasn’t bitter, but rather resentful - resentful that Astarion hadn’t thought much of the silence at the time. When Gale had promised to write, it was understood it would happen eventually . The wizard was relatively famous, if his stories were to be believed, and surely he would have much to catch up on when he returned home. His mother, from anecdotes, would surely be doting upon her son with intense fervor.
But after weeks passed and no letter arrived, Astarion decided to take initiative. Maybe Gale was just busy with another magic something or other. Another crisis occurred. Or maybe, less dramatically, the man was taking his time composing the letter, searching for the best words in that vocabulary of his.
Looking at Gale now, it was hard to imagine the man doing anything of the sort. He was tired, as if sagging under the weight of his own being. His dark circles were worse somehow. The cloak was still draped over his shoulders, uneven with his frantic movement to the kitchen.
“I’m sorry,” Gale finally said, looking into his cup of tea. “I know I promised to write and I should have done so sooner.”
“You think I’m upset about the fact you didn’t write?” Astarion sat up, moving as if to hold Gale’s hand in his own before shrinking back.
“I broke a promise. I…. you deserve better than me.”
“Gale-”
The dam broke little by little, words flooding from the wizard’s mouth like a flood.
“I know I upset you. You’re dealing with your own issues and now you arrive to Waterdeep and find me overrun with more baggage than when you departed. I want… I need to stop making you upset.”
Memories flashed in front of his eyes - arguments about his first plan to destroy himself alongside the Absolute when Astarion had stormed out of his tent, Astarion’s anger when he had asked about the scars on his back during a moment they spent washing clothes, the moments in which he had pushed Astarion away when Mystra was brought up. It was as if there was nothing between them but pain and misery.
Sure, there had been the occasional night in which they had shared wine and stories of their lives, quiet moments in which he had read from his books when Astarion could do little but stare into nothingness, the hand he had put on Astarion’s shoulder when the latter sprinted out of the sun and back into the darkness. But more than anything, it felt like the pain they had shared was insurmountable, the rift too wide. Whenever Astarion had tried to cross the gap, Gale only shifted away further.
A cold hand covered his right wrist as Astarion tried to comfort him. This was territory the other was unfamiliar with, scared him even.
Comfort was always transactional . It was reserved for those Cazador saw as worthy. It was… not for me .
“Darling,” the vampire muttered, shoulders slumped in defeat.. “I’m more upset that I didn’t stop by sooner.”
Before Gale could protest with another spill of words, Astarion continued on.
“I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I just thought you were busy traipsing around the city, or whatever famous wizards do. I didn’t think you were wasting away in here.”
Gale stared into the bottom of his teacup, swishing the last of the liquid and the leaves around in the bottom. The last dregs were sure to be bitter. The silence pricked his skin.
“I didn’t really notice, to be honest,” Gale admitted. “Days just came and went. I didn’t keep track of how many.”
Astarion sighed and leaned over, adjusting the cloak around the other’s shoulders. When the fabric was balanced sufficiently, his hands remained on Gale’s warm chest. Peeking out from the collar was the scar left behind from the orb. Beneath the fabric and skin, he could feel the man’s heart beating.
“I’m just upset I didn’t do anything sooner,” the vampire murmured. “I shouldn’t have let this go on.”
“You couldn’t have known ab-” Gale began.
“No, you idiot! I shouldn’t have let you go,” Astarion interrupted sharply, thumping one hand over the beating, bleeding heart.
Gale pursed his lips together, eyebrows pinching. “I’m not quite sure I follow.”
Astarion’s eyes looked to the floor, unable to maintain eye contact. It had been easy before, when there were no emotions except a desperate desire to live another day. Lies were easier when looking into the eyes he meant to lure back. When he knew no love was looking back at him, only lust.
Now, glancing toward the floor, he saw Gale’s old slippers on the floor besides his bare feet. Tara was nestled between them.
“I shouldn’t have let you come all the way back here without saying anything. Gods, I am an idiot.”
Gale’s hand came up to cover the pale one resting above his heart. His brows were twisted in a sort of sad confusion. He wanted to, had to fix this. But he couldn’t if he didn’t know what to fix. All he knew is that he needed to stop hurting the other.
“What did you need to say?” he asked gently.
“You’re going to think I’m a fool or a fucking joke.” Astarion muttered out, his voice cracking.
“Astarion, when have I ever been known to see you as less than? Have faith in me. Please.”
Warm fingers under Astarion’s chin brought his eyes back up to meet Gale’s. Glassy red eyes reflected the candlelight, reminiscent of pools of blood or spilled wine. Under the flickering wicks, tears appeared like glass. The vampire spawn took a deep breath.
“I was ready to die that first day. Figured the sun might take me apart until nothing remained. It seemed too good to be true when the next day came. And the day after that and the day after that. I wondered when it would all come falling down.” His hand clenched in the fabric over Gale’s heart. “But then I found myself hoping… hoping, Gale, that maybe I could be free again. I didn’t want to believe it.”
Gale swallowed. He had never known Astarion to be so vulnerable. Even before when discussing his terrible past, the spawn had been lighthearted about it or, at the worst moments, angry and defeated. But this was different. This wasn’t resignation.
“I saw this ridiculous hand sticking out of a portal and thought, ‘Well, not much else can get worse,’ so I pulled and hoped. I didn’t ever think that clumsy, foolish man would be the only thing holding me together one day. But then it changed, bit by bit, little by little.”
The wizard almost objected to the characterization but held back. Astarion was like a delicate spell - one wrong move could cause disastrous results.
“You made sure I was fed, you brought me books and wine and thread, you protected me from… him. You made me feel like a person again, Gale. Not a body, not a slave, not a monster. A person.”
A small laugh bubbled its way out of Astarion’s chest. Gale’s eyebrows creased together with more worry, squeezing the pale hand under his own.
“So imagine my surprise when you rejected me originally.”
It had been at a gathering. Alcohol had been flowing and debauchery had commenced. The vampire had slid up to the wizard and tilted his head in the way he knew others liked. He had asked Gale directly, not wanting to act like his unbeating heart was resting in his throat. The man had turned him down.
“‘I don’t want to be doing anything rash knowing our dooms loom before us,’” Astarion recited, his tone attempting to mimic Gale’s structured speech. “Thank the gods I’m already dead. Otherwise, I might have died of embarrassment. Imagine - first time in two centuries I proposition someone I’m genuinely interested in and he turns me down.”
Another laugh, this one more bitter and cold.
“I didn’t blame you, you know. After all, who wants damaged goods?”
Gale moved a hand to wipe a tear from under a red eye. So much hurt lingered in the air.
“Sure, I drank that night and felt bad about myself. But I soldiered on. Little time for heartache when there’s a tadpole behind your eye, hm? And I thought it was all done and managed. We took care of the Absolute. We saved ourselves.
“I remember that moment, when the sun started to burn again. It felt like the worst betrayal - like a lover scorned. But you followed me into the shadows and let me grieve. You didn’t say a word. Then we all packed it up and decided to go our separate ways and I… I didn’t say anything. I wanted you to go and be the great wizard Waterdeep had been missing. Nevermind how much I would miss you anyway.”
Astarion smiled, a soft thing, crooked and full of tears as Tara nudged at his ankles below the table. Encouragement to continue.
“I thought about you every day, thinking about what I would have said had my confidence been a little more blind. But, it’s no matter now. I can say what I want. You’re right in front of me. And I’ve never been more scared of anything in my life.”
“Astarion, you don’t have to do this if it will hurt.”
“It always hurts in the end anyways, darling.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
“It always has.”
“Tell me. I want to help you with whatever ailment this is that’s caused you so much pain. Especially if I’ve caused it.”
It was an unspoken promise.
Nothing will hurt you here.
“I care for you, Gale. Deeply and foolishly. You’re a ridiculous man and a terrible flirt and I can’t help but want nothing more than to know your days end in joy,” Astarion rambled out frantically. “I know you have other things, other goddesses to have, so I know-” He gulped. “I know I’ll never be the first choice. Just say the word. I can leave once the sun goes down and you’ll never see me again. But I can’t go on without saying it.”
Despite not needing to breathe, the vampire took deep breaths following his rushed confession, eyes searching deep for some semblance of an answer. If he was feeling poetic, he might have said it felt like searching for constellations in the night sky.
“Oh, Astarion…”
“Please don’t… don’t pity me. I’ll be gone soon.”
The elf stood from the table quickly, Tara rising even faster to dart out from under the table. She positioned herself in front of him, as if to keep the vampire from running away. A warm, soft hand grabbed a pale wrist. Astarion flinched back instinctively before plastering on his practiced smile.
“I’m sorry. Just ignore me, darling. I won’t bother you anymore.”
Gale let go of his wrist. He could feel his chances slipping away.
“Please don’t go, Astarion.”
Astarion looked deep into Gale’s eyes. This time, it was love reflected back at him, not lust.
“I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. I should have known better,” the wizard started. “I remember what you told me.”
“It’s nothing to worry about, I’ll just-”
“Astarion.”
The awkward ramblings of the vampire ceased. His posture was still defensive, still acting as if performing for others. Without his cloak, it was clear his shoulders were poised stiffly.
Gale hated it. If he didn’t act, there would be nothing left of that vulnerable elf from before. Nothing would remain except a performance.
“I..” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I’ve never been known for my brevity but I fear I’ll lose you if I don’t say this in the simplest way possible. I love you.”
Gale squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the mockery, the snark, the mask to slide back on, the performance to continue. He waited for Astarion to become the charismatic rogue from the first day they met. Instead, silence lay steadily.
Suddenly, Gale felt a weight crash into him, knocking him over onto the floor. The weight wrapped its arms around his back, buried its head in the joint between his neck and his shoulder. The weight breathed heavily and wetted his clothing with tears, laughing lightly.
“I missed you so much,” the weight said, white curls fluttering in Gale’s face.
“You have me now,” Gale whispered back. “I promise.”
Tara looked on from the corner and decided she was to go out. They needed their privacy, after all.
It was a few days later when Morena stopped by again. She, much like Astarion, had been promised contact from Gale and had received none. As mothers are wont to do, she arrived swiftly a day after her memo arrived at the tower. Her knocks were soft on the door.
Gale was in the study, Astarion curled in one of the armchairs by the hearth, a book in hand. If asked he would staunchly deny how happy it had made him. Tara dozed in his lap when the knocking came again.
Astarion, gently shaking Tara, tucked a red ribbon into the book. The leather cover was soft, aged and weathered. Despite it all, it had survived the trip back from Baldur’s Gate with its owner.
“Tara, dear, are we expecting anyone?”
Tara made a noncommittal noise before standing and hopping to the floor to stretch.
“If I recall, Morena should be visiting soon.”
Astarion would have blanched, had his complexion allowed him. He had heard much about Morena Dekarios and, if he was honest, found the prospect of meeting her intimidating.
“I should go get Ga-”
Tara began trotting to the door, looking back with a twitch of her nose.
“No need. You know how to open a door, yes?”
So Astarion walked hesitantly after the tressym, adjusting the collar of his borrowed sweater. It hung loosely off his tensed shoulders as he prepared himself. He schooled his face into the practiced smile he gave every stranger and opened the door.
“Good evening.”
Morena was very much like Gale, Astarion noted. Her hair was nearly all grey, streaked with brown. Her clothing was a deep blue, soft lines around her mouth from years of smiling. Eyes sparkled with curiosity as she looked up to who had answered the door.
“Hello. I’m looking for my son. Is he in tonight?”
Tara jumped onto Morena’s shoulder, rubbing her face into a warm cheek. The woman laughed, a hearty deep thing like her son’s. Her hand reached up to scritch Tara under the chin.
“And it is always a pleasure to see you as well, Tara.”
Astarion didn’t realize he was staring, face blank until Morena met his glance again with another question.
“Where’s Gale?”
Astarion broke out of his thoughts, returning to the present. He straightened his posture, reminding himself to be cordial, much like the magistrate he had once been all those years ago.
“Wonderful to make your acquaintance. My name is Astarion. I’m a…” He hesitated before continuing. “I’m a friend of Gale’s. I can go fetch him if you’d like.”
“Oh, you’re Astarion!” Morena’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Gale had mentioned you on more than one occasion. It’s great to finally put a face to the name.”
Astarion stepped to the side, glad he was incapable of blushing. He made an arm movement towards the hearth and tilted his head towards the interior.
“If you wouldn’t mind waiting a moment, I’ll go get him from the study.”
As if by magic (and possibly because of it), Gale walked up behind Astarion, placing a gentle hand on the elf’s lower back. Minutely, Tara could sense the latter relaxing slightly. No longer was he facing Morena alone.
“Who are we getting from the study?” Gale asked cheekily, a smile appearing on his face before returning his glance to his mother. “Ah, Mother! Wonderful to see you again. I got your letter.”
Tara hopped from Morena’s shoulder, winding around Astarion’s legs, as the woman leaned in for a hug.
“I would sure hope so. I was wondering if the tower fell off the carrier’s map, seeing as how I’ve not heard from you in weeks,” she joked. She leaned in towards Astarion, as if to whisper a secret. “He’s rather awful at writing letters, isn’t he?”
The practiced smile melted from his face, replaced by an uneven genuine one as the elf laughed slightly, turning to Gale, who was slightly turning red at his mother’s antics.
“Oh I like her, darling!” Astarion said. “You never told me your mother was such a fiery one.”
Gale looked towards him, face warm. “I purposefully did not tell you because I was worried I might soon be outnumbered in my own home.” The wizard cleared his throat before returning his attention to Morena. “Please come in, Mother. I’m sure the evening air is quite chilly.”
Morena met Astarion’s eyes, winking before crossing the threshold into the tower. The tension melted from his shoulders as he leaned into Gale slightly. The hand on his lower back rubbed gently.
“Now, Gale, have you eaten dinner yet today?”
“Well, you see I-” the wizard stuttered, gesturing towards the study.
Morean rolled her eyes before looking at Astarion, the mischievous sparkle in her glance. “He’s so stubborn, isn’t he? I swear. Sometimes it’s like trying to talk to a wall too smart for its own good.” She turned towards the kitchen area, moving to wash her hands.
The vampire leaned over to pet Tara, who had been butting her head into his legs, while he formulated response.
“He is like that, isn’t he?” Astarion replied. He looked towards Gale, who was still blushing furiously, looking as if he’d rather dissolve. “It’s a good thing I’m just as stubborn.”
The wizard relaxed slightly, smiling gently in the direction of his companion. He crouched down, petting Tara as he met Astarion’s eyes, full of love and life.
Morena was digging through Gale’s pantries, unaware of the smile they were sharing. She huffed, and stepped back to look at everything she had pulled from them.
“It’s like you two were meant for each other,” she commented, turning her attention to the icebox in the corner.
Gale leaned against Astarion, Tara reveling in the attention she was receiving from the two men. The latter smirked, turning to kiss the wizard gently.
“You have no idea.”