Adopt, Don't Shop!

by baldurs-gape (connorssock)

Summary:

Baldur's Gate has some peculiar laws surrounding humanoid creatures and their rights. It's something that has never sat right with Gale but he's never been in a position to do anything about it. He's Gale of Waterdeep, not Baldur's Gate, he has no sway there. But moving there has opened up a new avenue for him. Even if he can't change the whole legal system, he can at least help one unlucky person at a time. Definitely. Probably. Maybe. He hopes so anyway. And he'll start with the one who has been at the centre for the longest time and needs him the most.

Notes:

This will be updated on a more ad hoc basis than Shores was. Comments are always welcome to help shape the story!

Chapter 1

The bell above the door jingled jovially and the receptionist looked up as Gale stepped into the foyer. Airconditioning made the area pleasantly cool and he strode to the desk, letting his cloak billow behind him, staff thunking against the lino flooring with every other step. Leaning against the counter, he offered the receptionist an easy smile.

“I’ve been thinking about getting a companion.”

“You’ve come to the perfect place. Do you have anything specific in mind?”

“I’m not really sure.” Gale rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. “I was hoping for something interesting.”

Nodding along, the receptionist rifled through some papers before pulling some out and handing it over with a clipboard and a pen. “Fill out this questionnaire, it might give you some things to consider.”

Items in hand, Gale retreated to the faux leather padded bench and sat down. Most of the questions were rather standard, name, age, address, job, salary. Dutifully, he filled them all in, confident that the centre would find him a suitable candidate to adopt from them. Well, ‘adopt’ was a bit of the wrong word to use. Baldur’s Gate had some rather different laws to Waterdeep and it made Gale shudder to just think of it. According to the papers he was filling out, he was preparing to take ownership of a humanoid companion. The only difference in Gale’s eyes between him and these so-called humanoid companions was some archaic law and views. Ones that weren’t going to be changed any time soon so this was the next best thing. Papers filled out, he returned to the desk with a pleasant smile.

“I’ve belled for one of our staff to come down and show you around, Mr Dekarios.”

Sure enough, a sturdy looking dwarf bustled through a door to the side and made a beeline for Gale. She nodded at him and gave his paperwork a quick scan.

“Okay, we’ll have a wander round, I can help point out ones that might be a good fit based on what you’ve told us.”

“Sounds perfect, please, lead the way.”

Walking out back was like nothing Gale had ever seen before. Cells with clear fronts lined one side of a long corridor. In each was a camping bed, a ragged book or two and a water fountain recessed into the back wall. Plus the occupant of the cell. Beside each door was a chart with some basic details. Gale was almost ready to cry.

“We’ll start with Saria, I think she’d be a good companion for you.”

They stopped a few doors in where a woman was sat on her bed, finger combing her hair and humming softly. As they approached, she looked up and gave a bright smile.

“Hello there!”

The dwarf ignored her and turned to Gale. “She’s a selkie so obviously you’ll need to have proof of security for her pelt before you can take her home. But she’s friendly, eager to please and would be an excellent help around your tower and a hostess for any party you have.”

“She definitely sounds like a good candidate,” Gale agreed while he couldn’t meet Saria’s eyes. “But I’d like to see who-I mean what else you have.”

The tour was hard to stomach. Gnarwa, as it turned out Gale’s guide was called, was factual and helpful in a detached way. To her, all the residents at the centre were no better than livestock. Listening to her describe a shapeshifter’s abilities in the context of Gale’s preferences and needs almost had Gale snapping. But he had a role to play, a mission to fulfil. As they finished up by the door to a changeling.

“You have given me a lot to think about. But I’m just not sure.” Gale nibbled thoughtfully at his lower lip. “My life tends to be rather chaotic in terms of schedules. I work late into the night which is when I most need company. You don’t have anything nocturnal?”

Like magic, he was led to another door, this one opened and they went down a set of stairs. As they walked, Gnarwa started a new spiel, “Our nocturnal companions are usually sought after for protection and get snapped up pretty quick. I think our last minotaur was adopted less than a week ago. But we do have a quasit, though the mischief it can cause might not be what you were after.”

Fewer cells lined the corridor, most of them empty. There was indeed a quasit who turned visible right next to the door in an attempt to scare Gale. He laughed and shook his head, the quasit wasn’t what he was looking for.

“While I certainly like a challenge, I’m not sure it’s of the chaos variety.” Pausing, he hummed in contemplation. “Tell you what, who here needs a home? Your longest resident. I’d like to meet them.”

Gnarwa hesitated, eyes darting to the end cell. For the first time she looked unsure.

“Some of our residents aren’t ready for a home yet. And some will never be ready.”

Gritting his teeth, Gale nodded. “Yes, I’ve read that you follow the gold standard for euthanasia for those beyond help.”

“Yes.” The uncertainty morphed into frustration on Gnarwa’s face. “We are bound to the gold standard by our policy. No exceptions.” Darkly, she added, “Even when we really ought to make it for the good of us all.”

Now that sounded promising. Gale gestured towards the end of the corridor silently and Gnarwa pressed her lips into a thin line. Not waiting for permission or an invitation, Gale set off. The cell was barren. No cot, no enrichment, not even a water fountain. Huddled in the corner was a pale, near enough translucent figure with shocking white hair.

Crouching down, Gale tried to get a glimpse of a face. He put a hand up against the glass with a soft “hello there”. The next moment he was falling on his backside in shock as the pale figure launched against the clear barrier, hand mimicking Gale’s. Red eyes gleamed in the low light before scrunching with pain as hands scrabbled at the metal contraption around his neck.

“Bad Astarion! Bad!” Gnarwa screeched, casting a variant of shocking grasp. On the floor of the cell Astarion writhed, clutching at the collar still.

Though Gnarwa offered a hand to help Gale up, he ignored it out of spite. Kneeling by the clear door, he frowned.

“Stop it, you’re hurting him.”

The shocks stopped and Astarion curled up on his side, shivering and pitiful. Gnarwa knocked on the door loudly.

“Stop pretending. I know you’re fine.”

The mop of curls popped up to show narrowed red eyes. Gale watched in fascination as Astarion unfurled, as graceful as Tara could be and approached the door with a small smirk.

“And what role am I to perform today then?”

As Gale was still kneeling, he was at the most unfortunate height to be painfully aware of the fact Astarion was naked. As there wasn’t a shred of clothing in the cell, it had to be purposeful. Rushing to stand, his eyes caught on the information hanging next to the door, with a red border edging it all.

Name: Astarion

Gender: Male

Species: Vampire Spawn

Diet: Blood

Assessment: Unsuitable for rehoming, dangerous and unmanageable, resistant to training. Euthanasia recommended. Decapitation, burning and staking are not gold standard procedures. Keep contained until further notice.

Something in Gale twisted harshly as he looked at the sheet, saw that the date was a good year and a half, almost two years ago. He wondered how many people had been taken in by Astarion’s beauty, had fancied themselves the ones to finally break him into their ideal pet, only to turn away at the warning of the staff at the facility. Or worse, insist that they could handle Astarion. Seeing the casual brutality of the shock collar suggested that there was a lot more that Gale hadn’t seen.

“He’s a lost cause, don’t be fooled by the striking looks.” Gnarwa scowled at Astarion. “He killed his sire, Cazador Szarr, during detention and was brought in to us caked in blood and screeching about freedom. For once I wish for police brutality, they could have done us all a favour. Now we’re stuck with him until legal finds a loophole.”

“I’ll take him,” Gale snapped out without real thought.

“If only you could.” Gnarwa banged on the door of the cell making Gale jump and he was sure Astarion flinched too. “I’d let you take him right now if it were possible. But difficult cases mandate several meetings. And I don’t know about cases for euthanasia.”

At that, Astarion laughed. It was hollow and bitter.

“Darling, if you’d just let me walk out of here, I’d gladly face the sun than stay here another day.”

“The pretty exterior hides a nasty interior to boot,” Gnarwa grumbled. “He spouts so much shit.”

Looking at him, Gale took in the lazy, lax way Astarion was draped against the wall. Such an existence would have made anyone lose their mind, Gale couldn’t blame him for wanting to end it all. The very people who should have been looking after him were part of his ongoing torment.

“I’ll be back,” he said, eyes fixed on Astarion in promise even if he was talking to Gnarwa. “We’ll do the mandated meetings. But he’s the one that I want. He’ll be coming home with me.”

Chapter 2

If only things were as simple as “go in, meet, go home with new companion in tow”. Alas, that wasn’t the case. Not just because the centre didn’t have a policy in place for cases where euthanasia had been ruled but impossible to carry out, though that was the biggest hurdle. The other was Gale’s determination to make this process as quick as possible even though controlling time wasn’t a skill of his. So he had to go through the mandated meetings and grit his teeth, bite his tongue and play along. Perhaps the hardest one was the first meeting.

Most rooms for introductions and what not were bright, airy and with large windows overlooking the exercise facility for those surrendered to the centre. Give Astarion’s nature, such a room was not suitable, even with heavy curtains the risk of him deliberately ducking behind them was too high. So a dingy office with a small window was cleared out of everything but two chairs. One was for Gale, the other for Gnarwa while Astarion was tethered by a slip leash and standing next to her. It made Gale grit his teeth. In fact, everything about the scenario was so wrong. At least this time Astarion had clothes on but along with the collar he also had heavy manacles around his wrists and a muzzle strapped tightly around the lower half of his face. The straps and metal dug into pale skin, no doubt marking it up and bruising if that was even possible on a vampire spawn.

“The board has reviewed your application for adoption as a matter of urgency,” Gnarwa explained as she lounged in the chair, idly twiddling the leash between her fingers. “Three meetings are required as well as regular inspections at the place of residence, plus adherence to some rules which we’ll go over soon. But for now, why don’t you see how you can manage Astarion?”

Just like that the leash was passed over and Gale looked at it with mild panic. This wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting and he cleared his throat before looking up at Astarion with a small smile.

“Hello Astarion. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Let’s cut to the chase. You’re here to inspect the goods,” Astarion drawled, hips swaying as he stepped closer, letting the leash loosen. “So, how do you want me?”

Mouth suddenly dry, Gale cleared his throat to delay needing to answer. It was obviously taken the wrong way as Astarion’s deft fingers were undoing the flies of his trousers despite the manacles. Just before the trousers could slip down over slim hips, Gale found his voice again.

“Stop!”

At least it had the desired effect and Astarion’s trousers stayed firmly on, for now. For the briefest of moments it looked like he was startled and worried but by the time Gale blinked, Astarion was pursing his lips in mock contemplation.

“Not a fan of having an audience? I’ll bear that in mind.”

Any sultry look he could have given was lost to a grimace of pain, a hand fluttering by the metal collar. Instantly Gale was glaring at Gnarwa who had lazily cast the spell.

“Was that really necessary? Stop it.”

“My job is to make sure you don’t come to harm during these meetings. I’m reminding Astarion that his bad behaviour has consequences.”

Rather than argue, Gale let out a sigh but managed to hold back on pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He had to play along, needed to prove he could be trusted with Astarion’s care. Which reminded him to reach for his bag and rummage around. As soon as the bottle was in his hand and revealed, Astarion’s eyes were glued to it. Gone was the mocking and rudeness. Now he was completely still, pupils dilated, body coiled to pounce like the true predator he was.

“I got you a little something,” Gale said and held out the blood. “It’s only cow’s blood, the butcher didn’t have anything else. I hope it is to your taste.”

The bottle was plucked from his hand and sequestered away by Gnarwa before Gale could react. Even worse, Astarion hissed, lips coiling up over his gums in displeasure.

“Astarion is on a very strict diet to help us manage him,” she said with an easy shrug. “So no snacks or treats for him. Those have to be earned.”

A guttural snarl left Astarion and for the first time Gale was actually a little worried around him. Ears pinned back, teeth on show and poised to lunge, he could see how the vampire spawn could be a formidable opponent. At least the rage wasn’t pointed at him just yet. One moment he was looming over Gnarwa and the next Astarion was on the ground, seizing and clawing at the collar. A pained whine escaped clenched teeth and Gale couldn’t help himself, he was on his knees, a soothing hand on Astarion’s bicep as he barked at Gnarwa.

“That is quite enough.” After another second or two, Astarion’s muscles stopped twitching but he didn’t move from the floor. Gale reminded himself that he needed to play the part. “As we’re assessing his compatibility with me, I would appreciate it if you could allow me to learn how to navigate discipline.”

“That was meant to be second meeting stuff but you asked so we’ll do it now. You show me you can cast the spell and I’ll tick it off the adoption criteria sheet.”

Chest puffing out, Gale looked indignant. “As an archmage I should dearly hope you are not questioning my ability for casting something so simple.”

Shrugging, Gnarwa nudged Astarion with a foot but got no response other than a soft huff. “I need to see you do it or I can’t sign off on the adoption.”

An angered sigh left Gale before he could hold it back. He didn’t want to do this, everything in him screamed against it so he tried to work around it. With a soft ‘perure’ he cast the spell and on the floor Astarion rolled onto his back, head tipped back with a giggle.

“It tickles.”

“It’s meant to be a reprimand, a deterrent and a punishment.” Gnarwa didn’t look impressed. “You need to show me you can do better.”

On the floor Astarion snickered. “Ooh yes, harder, wizard daddy.”

Rather than acknowledge any part of that, Gale shuffled away from Astarion. Eyes locked onto Gnarwa’s in challenge, he slowly upped the intensity of the spell. Such aggressive eye contact also meant he didn’t have to see as Astarion’s smile melted away into a look of pinched discomfort and a little ‘ow’ that went ignored.

“Not enough.” A glint of sadistic glee appeared in Gnarwa, she had no issues with turning to look at Astarion as his back arched when the first trickle of pain leached from the collar. The choked back cry broke Gale’s heart but he couldn’t mess this up, couldn’t allow this adoption to fail. He could only hope that Astarion would forgive him.

It was only when Astarion curled up, fingers white around the collar and teeth clenched that Gnarwa nodded in satisfaction. As she scribbled on her form, Gale reached to try and sooth Astarion.

“Don’t touch me.” The words snapped out before Gale could do anything but hover a hand near his shoulder. Snatching it back, he nodded in sad acknowledgement.

“My apologies. I will refrain whenever humanly possible.” An idea popped in his head. “I think you should have a drink.”

Without asking for permission, he reached around Gnarwa and pulled the charmed bottle of blood from the chair.

“Bribing me with food? How novel,” Astarion sneered. “And just how do you intend for this to go? Unless you happened to bring a straw too?”

The muzzle wasn’t going to allow for the bottle to reach Astarion’s lips, and tipping his head back to pour with good intention seemed both undignified and dangerous. Gale didn’t even hesitate as he reached out.

“Easy. The muzzle comes off.”

Somewhere behind him Gnarwa made a noise of protest but Gale ignored her. Just as he ignored the flinch from Astarion as he unbuckled the straps of the muzzle. Under his touch Astarion was very still, similar to how he’d loomed over Gnarwa yet also so very different. The muzzle peeled away from pale skin. Gale only had a moment to see the fruits of his idea before the world tilted and his back slammed into the floor. ‘Ad lapide’ tore from his throat before he could think. By the time the world made a bit of sense again, Gale could assess that he was on the floor, Astarion was poised above him, teeth bared and ready to bite. Some noise gurgled in his throat but the spell held even his vocal cords still.

“That was rather unnecessary and rude, wasn’t it?” Gale grumbled as he pulled himself out from under Astarion’s frozen form. Really, he should have expected it but he still had hoped things would go better.

The muzzle was swiftly clasped back into place by Gnarwa who seemed to delicately avoid touching the collar. Only once it was back on did Gale let his spell drop. What he didn’t expect was for Astarion to crumple to the floor with an anguished cry, writhing as the collar shocked him more brutally than he'd seen before. Not a moment later Gale could smell the stench of charred flesh and he caught a glimpse of the skin on Astarion’s neck, beyond blistered and red.

“Gnarwa! That’s quite enough!” Against his better judgement, Gale dropped down next to Astarion, wishing he could soothe the agony and heal the wounds. At least Astarion permitted him to give a bit of physical comfort, pressing into his shins and trembling as tears soaked into Gale's trousers.

“He needs a firm hand,” Gnarwa replied but at least the spell dropped. “This is why he’s not allowed treats and in on minimal feeding. Can you imagine what would have happened if he’d been on top form?”

This probably wouldn’t have happened at all, Gale thought glumly as he watched Astarion curled up on the floor, arms covering his face. Anguish squeezed at Gale’s chest, he wanted to make things better but there wasn’t anything he could do other than work harder to wrangle Astarion away from this place.

“I think I’ve proven that I can keep him in check even when he’s aggressive,” he tried. “What else needs to be covered in the three meetings?”

“Home inspection report and review of any changes made, we’ve covered recovery of out of control behaviour though you may benefit from doing the advanced discipline training module, and feeding restrictions.”

“You mean like don’t feed after midnight and don’t get him wet?”

The joke was met with a blank stare and Gale tried not to get flustered.

“No, we’ll cover it at the third meeting but this one is on a very strict diet to keep him manageable.”

Somehow Gale dreaded to think what a very strict diet might look like. What he knew of vampires and spawn suggested that they may well have been withholding blood from Astarion for as long as he’d been in the centre. It could explain his desperation for blood and unexpected tendency towards violence. If Gale had been kept in similar conditions, he too would have been livid.

For a first meeting it was eventful and only spurred Gale on to try and move things along more quickly. On his way out, he scheduled a second appointment for as soon as allowed. Patting his pocket and bag for his car keys, he was surprised to find the bag more squishy and lighter than expected. Peering in, Gale could only smile. The bottles of blood were missing. Good.

Chapter 3

The second visit couldn’t come quickly enough. Gale had kept busy in the meantime, he had a home to prepare for a new arrival if all went according to plan. It was a fine line between making the cellar habitable but keeping it the least luxurious possible. Not that Gale thought Astarion would spend too much time in the space but they had to put on a good show for any inspections taking place. Thus, much to his disdain, Gale had manacles and a collar on chains put in, along with a palette with a pillow. All in all the room looked barren and uninviting but that was what was needed for now. It seemed to satisfy the person inspecting his home so at least that was another hurdle down.

Going into the now familiar office with its covered window, Gale tried not to look too taken aback by the sight that greeted him. Not only was Astarion muzzled again, this time his wrists were chained to a bar that went under his arms and behind his back. His head was bowed, didn’t even look up when Gale entered, the perfect picture of submission but also of a beast beaten and broken.

“Hello Mr. Dekarios,” Gnarwa greeted all too cheerfully, waving with the leash in her hand, tugging it with her movements. “I believe Astarion has something to say to you.”

Finally Astarion moved, looked up, his red eyes were haunted and tired.

“I am very sorry I stole the bottles from your bag.”

If Gnarwa hadn’t been so insistent on Astarion not feeding, they would have been freely given rather than stolen. As such, Gale couldn’t be seen to brush it off as a minor transgression. Lips pressed into a thin line, he sighed.

“I accept your apology. It was rather inconvenient to find them missing but I’m sure it was a one-off mistake.”

As Gnarwa moved behind him, Astarion ducked his head again with a flinch and a quiet “I have learned my lesson.”

“Indeed,” Gnarwa chipped in. “He has been reprimanded and your bottles confiscated. Alas, one of them had been consumed before we realised what was going on. We reclaimed it but it wasn’t suitable for return.”

Quietly, Gale was pleased. That had been his intention all along, to give Astarion some sustenance. However, the more he looked, the more he doubted that the punishment was just the shock collar. Astarion was too subdued, too docile. Something dark clawed at Gale’s stomach in worry, whispers in his mind clamoured to be heard about how he might have made things worse.

“You mentioned feeding restrictions last time?” The sooner he got this out of the way the better. Astarion needed to be out of the centre as quickly as possible.

“One rat once a month.” Gnarwa sniffed. “We kill it first to spare it any undue suffering as we don’t trust Astarion not to play with his food.”

Jaw clenched, Gale glanced at Astarion whose head was still bowed. Rather than say anything, he nodded but then a question blossomed in his mind.

“Do all of your charges get such a restricted diet?”

For some reason Gnarwa laughed.

“No, goodness no. But then again, none of our other charges are quite so bloodthirsty or sadistic.”

Not something Gale was inclined to agree with but that wasn’t his business for now. His main objective was to get Astarion out. Licking his lips, he cleared his throat.

“I can deal with that. You mentioned other restrictions?”

A sheet of paper was passed to him with a list as Gnarwa began to talk, “Here they are. Aside from a restricted diet he is to be muzzled at all times if away from your residence, there’s a 10pm to sunrise curfew, he is not to leave the city of Baldur’s Gate and you are legally responsible for any damage, death or injury caused by him.”

Most of it Gale could ignore with ease, there were ways around such stupid and inane rules. But not leaving the city? That was going to be an issue. That was going to have to be a problem for the future, for now Gale had to play along.

“You make it sound like it’s going to be difficult. I’ve already had the home check and it seems like I’ve met the requirements once the door is fully fitted in the basement.”

“Excellent. Then one more meeting and you can take your new companion home.”

Gale really hoped it would be that simple. As he moved to stash the bottles back in his bag, he looked at the empty one before glancing to Astarion.

“You mentioned it was reclaimed?”

“We bled him to take back what wasn’t his. Alas, we couldn’t bottle it again and give it back, hygiene regulations and all that.”

Eyes back on Astarion, Gale tried to see where the blood letting could have happened. In a sleeveless jerkin, a lot of Astarion’s skin was on display but it was smooth and blemish free, more pale than he’d seen before. Probably because of the lack of blood.

“Very well. As inconvenient as it is, the deed has been done and punishment doled out. Perhaps though, while I’m here, the punishments could be left to my discretion from now on?” Rather than take one of the chairs, Gale settled on the floor and crossed his legs, ignoring the protesting cracks of his knees. “Astarion, these meetings are for us to get to know each other a little better. Do you have anything you’d like to ask me?”

Gnarwa tutted in disapproval but Gale didn’t care. His focus was Astarion and trying to make this go as smoothly as possible. All the same, it wasn’t completely in his hands. Shy eyes peered up from under long lashes, a glint of red as Astarion finally dared look at him and shake his head. His head lifted a little more and there was most definitely a smirk on his lips.

“No. But it’s not you, it’s me.”

“Oh?” Gale was keen to find out a little more, get an insight into Astarion’s mind.

“I have standards, you see.”

A beat later laughter burst from Gale at that at the same time as a sharp “Astarion!” could be heard from Gnarwa. He held up a hand to try and keep her from doing anything and, thankfully, it seemed to hold her at bay. Grinning, Gale slowly shook his head.

“I’m glad to hear. Hopefully I’ll meet them if you give me a chance to.”

That seemed to take the wind out of Astarion’s sails, his carefully crafted mask slipped and Gale tried to parse what he was seeing. Alas, it was impossible because he didn’t know Astarion really so what he could have read as hope might have been horror and he really didn’t want to assume. Not after everything he’d seen.

“I thought it was you giving me a chance, taking on legal responsibility for my actions and all.” Astarion’s reply lacked the full force of bite he probably wanted to project. Then again, behind a muzzle, arms restricted and likely starving after what amounted to torture, it was understandable that he wasn’t at his best. As Gale only nodded, he found his  voice again, “It’s a big risk, what if I go on a rampage and kill innocents? Or worse, kill you?”

“Then I’ll be very disappointed and will need to reevaluate my confidence in reading people.” Something about that made Astarion scoff but Gale pressed on, “Why are you saying such things though? Don’t you want to get out of here?”

“Darling, I’ve been on a leash for over 200 years. I stopped caring who holds the other end.”

200 years. Gale tried not to let his face fall, he couldn’t even comprehend that kind of timespan let alone when living under the will of someone else. If his resolve hadn’t already been firm in taking Astarion home, this would have sealed the deal anyway.

“It is why he needs a firm hand.” As she spoke, Gnarwa tugged on the ever present leash attached to Astarion’s collar, making him sway. “Not a single thought in that head other than vampiric instinct to kill and feed. As I said when we first met, he’s pretty on the outside but rotten beyond hollow down to the core.”

Or he’s been surviving for so long, he doesn’t even dare dream of a different life, Gale thought bitterly.

“I’m sure with enough time that can be changed. Tell me, Astarion, in those 200 plus years, what have you been able to do that you enjoyed?”

For the briefest of moments Astarion’s eyes flickered over to Gnarwa before he looked determinedly past Gale’s left ear, lips pressed into a thin line. After a few long seconds that became more and more awkward, Gale nodded. They were obviously not going to get an answer. Yet Gale couldn’t shake the niggle that if Gnarwa hadn’t been there, he might have been graced with one.

“Perhaps that’s a question for when we’re better acquainted. Is there anything you’d like me to know then?”

The coy smile was back as Astarion’s gaze met his again. Flirtatious, confident and so very different to what Gale had seen from him before. It could have been genuine if only it didn’t appear so suddenly that it had to be armour of sorts.

“You have very pretty eyes.”

A flush burst over Gale’s cheeks and he tried to fight the sudden fluster that had overcome him. It was a ploy, a game of some kind yet the words still hooked into him. Reflexively, he murmured back, “So do you.”

The cocky “I know, I’ve been told that a lot,” was a cup of cold water over his warm emotions but just a small cup which was better than a bucket. Standing up with a groan as his joints straightened, Gale smiled.

“I’ll see you again soon then. Thank you for spending time with me today.”

It was only as he was walking out that he realised it sounded like something he’d say at the end of a date. A stupid thing really, just because he was paid a hollow compliment didn’t change reality. Astarion had been a slave for 200 years and finally Gale was going to be able to do some good for once by setting him free. 

Chapter 4

The house was ready. Gale tried not to fuss too much, he wasn’t going to get it all perfect, not without Astarion’s personal input, but he had done his best. All that was left now was to go get the third meeting out of the way so he could get Astarion home. He’d asked about what he’ll need to help with transport but had been told the centre will sort that out. In a way it was a relief because Gale couldn’t think of a single way to get a sun sensitive vampire spawn from the centre to his home that didn’t involve at least a sliver of light exposure.

Satisfied that things were as good as they were going to get, Gale made the final appointment. This time it wasn’t in the office, it was down in the basement which he struggled not to call a dungeon. At least Astarion wasn’t chained and restrained though the collar was still firmly around his neck. He was even wearing clothes unlike the last time Gale had seen him there. However, he looked gaunt and exhausted, tired in a way Gale didn’t think an elf, let alone a vampire spawn, could ever be.

“Final meeting,” Gnarwa said with an eager smile even if her voice was a little scratchy. “So we have a few more things to go over.”

With that, she gestured at the strange resin sheet behind her. Come to think of it, it had been there the last time Gale had visited the basement too. He’d assumed it was some strange decor or implement but had a sinking feeling he was about to be proven wrong.

“Sleep!” Gnarwa looked so proud of herself. “It was my idea to preserve it like this. What do you think?” Inside the cell, Astarion swayed closer to the door, eyes on the sheet. Heedles of him, Gnarwa didn’t wait for Gale to reply. “Vampire spawn cannot sleep or trance without dirt from their grave or burial shroud. This here is all that remains of Astarion’s so I devised a way to keep it safe from wear and tear.” She broke off to sneeze. “It also comes with the added bonus that we could just slide it under the flooring and take it away if he was getting a little too energetic because of so much rest.”

Sleep deprivation was a cruel punishment and one that Gale couldn’t quite fathom. He’d had his fair share of all-nighters which were followed by copious amounts of coffee before crashing spectacularly while he was studying. Even though he knew elves didn’t need as much sleep as humans, in fact they tended to trance for maybe 4 hours a night. However, if Astarion couldn’t even do that…Gale dreaded to think how that messed with his head.

“Ingenious,” he agreed easily enough. “I’ll be sure to do something similar at home.”

Seemingly pleased with the praise, Gnarwa foisted the resin slab over to Gale. Pressed against the clear door, Astarion followed it with heavy lidded eyes.

“When was the last time he was given his shroud?”

“Last week. We figured having him tired will make transporting him easier.”

Gale hated that she might have a point. But then again, it could also horribly backfire, given that such extremes could push people to desperation, losing inhibition and resorting to measures previously thought impossible.

Clearing her throat, Gnarwa stifled a cough. “We’re eager to get rid of him, so if you’ve brought muzzle and cuffs, we can get him ready for transport.”

As much as it pained him, Gale had indeed invested in the items he’d been told to get. He fished them out of his bag and handed them to Gnarwa who looked over them with a hint of disbelief. The leather of the muzzle was soft and supple, it wouldn’t dig in, especially not with the patting where it would sit on the skin. The cuffs were similar, meant to restrain but not cause any discomfort. If anything, they were more suited for bedroom affairs than anything else but nobody needed to know that. Both items were flung through a slot in the door and they landed on the ground.

“You know the drill.”

Gingerly, Astarion picked them up. His fingers ran over the leather and his gaze darted to Gale with a knowing look. So maybe the one person Gale had hoped didn’t know where he procured the items from absolutely did know. Astarion continued to stare at Gale as he nimbly fixed the muzzle in place. Another beat and he turned to bare his teeth at Gnarwa who tutted and shook her head.

“The cuffs too.”

With deliberate movements, Astarion did the buckles up on one wrist but had to push his free hand and other cuff through the slot. Gale’s hands bumped into Gnarwa’s as he reached to do it.

“If I may?” He asked even though there was no question about it as he stared Gnarwa down.

She threw her hands up and shook her head. “You’re too soft on him. I hope you know that.”

“I’m sure we’ll find our balance,” Gale replied pleasantly. The buckles were done up tight enough to not slip off but nowhere near as biting as the one Astarion had put on himself. Holding out his hand, Gale nodded at the other cuff. “May I have a look and adjust it?”

Scoffing, Gnarwa turned away to cough quietly while Gale adjusted the buckles with care. Under his touch, Astarion was cold and trembling. It wasn’t much longer, he wouldn’t be suffering soon. They just needed to get him home. The logistics were still a mystery but Gale assumed it would be a leash and probably a thick cover, maybe he’d have to levitate Astarion to make sure all of him stayed covered up.

“Satisfied?” Gnarwa drawled and Gale nodded. So she pulled a sending stone and messaged “Ready for transport.”

A couple of half-orcs appeared, carrying a metal box on a stretcher. They were dressed in thick leathers and didn’t look particularly inviting so to speak.

“No!”

It was the first time Astarion had spoken and Gale’s eyes snapped up to him. The way he was backing away, bound hands up as though he could ward off the horrors made something in him hurt. The two half-orcs ignored him as they entered the cell. Of course Astarion tired to run, ducked past them but a large hand caught him by the hair, yanking him back. In retaliation, Astarion snapped but the muzzle stopped him from doing any damage. He was lifted by the back of his shirt and his kicking legs were grabbed by the other half-orc.

“No! Please don’t! No!” His voice was shrill as he writhed, trying desperately to get free. Alas, he was held firm. “I’ll do anything. Please. Don’t put me in there! I beg you!”

Gale was helpless to watch as Astarion fought the best he could, twisting and shouting, voice breaking over words. He was unceremoniously shoved into the box, held down by gruff hands. Tears were soaking into the padding of the muzzle. This wasn’t a show, it wasn’t some ploy, his terror was palpable, his desperation couldn’t be faked. The lid wasn’t able to close, some part of Astarion was poking out at all times despite best efforts as he continued to plead. Red eyes wide as they sought Gale’s out.

“The frustrating thing about elves, you can’t cast ‘sleep’ on them,” Gnarwa observed, unaffected by the whole display. Though her patience was wearing thin as Astarion managed to get a leg over the edge of the box, stopping the lid from closing. “Oh for Tyr’s crusty nostril,” she grumbled and cast a cantrip. It wasn’t held in check, the full power of it connected with Astarion’s collar and the cries turned into a howl of pain. But it did have the effect of making him curl up and the lid was slammed shut with a finality. The scream of terror and dismay echoed in the basement and Gale shivered. It wasn’t going to be a long trip, he would make sure of it.

Of course his intentions weren’t quite matched by reality. There were final bits of paperwork to sign, disclaimers, accepting liability, payment for transport and adoption fee. It was all taking a lot longer than anticipated. Finally though, it was done. Astarion was officially in his care now. The two half-orcs would carry him to Gale’s prepared cellar and would be back for the box a week later when the first visit from the centre was to take place.

Through the whole walk it was silent. If Gale strained his ears he heard the softest muffled sob as though Astarion was trying to stifle and strangle any noise into nothing but even his best efforts couldn’t hold them back. It was better to know now, Gale could mentally prepare for what was to come than to be distracted by the prattle of the two carrying the box. Descending the stairs, there was a thump from what he imagined to be Astarion catching himself from sliding into a pile at the bottom of the box. With zero ceremony, it was placed on the ground and the half-orcs left with grunts of not quite pleasantries. Gale saw them out before rushing back into the basement, unwilling to leave Astarion for longer than absolutely necessary in that cursed transport box. At least he was home. Well, Gale hoped he’d want to call it home for a little while, until they figured out how to truly free him. But that was Astarion’s choice, of course it was. Like everything else was going to be from now on.

“Astarion?” Gale asked, nervously wiping his hands on his robe. “I am so sorry they put you through this, I’m going to open the box now and get you free. You’re home.”

Chapter 5

Maybe Gale was a coward because rather than go up to the box and open it himself, he cast a Mage Hand and used that instead. Given what he’d seen of Astarion, Gale suspected he was going to have a scuffle on hand and he wanted a bit of distance for safety. The lid of the box was unlocked and lifted slowly off. Nothing happened. No snarl, now ferocious dash for the door, not even a curious peek from within the box like an anxious cat.

“Astarion?” Gale craned his neck to see. This had to be a ploy, some trick to lure him closer. And Elysium’s purple lawn be run over by weeds but it was working. Hesitantly, hands ready with a restraining spell, Gale edged closer. Still nothing. No whisper of shifting weight before a pounce, no sound of lips softly parting or being licked in anticipation, not even a susurrus of clothing. Gale tried again. “Astarion? You can come out when you’re ready, I didn’t think you’d want to be stuck in there any longer than you had to be. When you want, I can give you a tour of the house and show you the room I thought you’d like.”

Finally able to glance over the lip of the box, Gale braced for being yanked in. Instead, Astarion was on his side, curled up as much as possible in what amounted to being a coffin, and had his eyes squeezed shut. Anyone else and Gale would have thought they were doing an awful job of feigning sleep or were caught in a painful nightmare. But both he and Astarion knew it wasn’t something that would work in the situation. After all, Gale still had the preserved shroud. Which reminded him actually, he needed to sort that out. First things first though.

“I’ll be back in a minute, okay? Not going far.”

Leaving, Gale toyed with the idea of locking the door but decided against it. Astarion was going to have run of the tower anyway, it wouldn’t do to lock him up. Gathering a few things he had hoped to point out on the tour instead of dumping a pile of things on Astarion, Gale returned to the basement. In the time he’d been away, nothing had changed.

Uncertain, Gale fell back on old habits and began prattling.

“I know it’s a big change, I can’t imagine how things have been like for you. But I promise it’s all going to change. I want you to have a life, and I know a gilded cage is still a cage but we’re working on getting you out. Until then you have as much autonomy and freedom as possible. Here-” he picked up a blanket from the pile he’d dumped by the box, “-I’ve cast a warming charm on it. Don’t know if you’re a fan of warmth but it struck me as something you may not have had much of. So I’ll just pop this over you. Hopefully you’ll feel snug and more comfortable. Though I must say that the bed I have set up for you might be much more comfortable and better for your back.”

Not even a twitch of a reaction. Astarion remained rigid and silent. It wasn’t at all how Gale thought it would go.

“We could get the muzzle and cuffs off. I know they’re not tight but I can’t imagine it’s uncomfortable. But I also can’t quite reach the buckles. So maybe we’ll wait until you’re up for that. What else did I bring? Oh, yes! Your-uhm, well, big noise coming up. Don’t worry, okay. Big bang, here it comes.”

The casing around the shroud snapped easily enough and Gale peeled it out. A preserving charm on it worked much better and, while it wasn’t the softest thing on earth, surely being able to actually touch it and scrunch it up for comfort was better than a cold slab.

“There you go. Don’t worry, I can always recast the charm but it should last a good three months. Well, maybe two tenday at the moment but you get the idea. We’ll work up to three months again. I’m afraid a whole year is out of question at the moment.”

Glancing back at the slowly diminishing pile, Gale hesitated. Some of it seemed like such silly things to bring down to someone who wasn’t responding to anything. Still, he’d had the best of intentions.

“I’ve got a few more things for you. A key to the whole tower. There are no secrets, you can go wherever you like. I’ve pulled all curtains to, just to be safe and I would like it if you didn’t wander out into the sunshine. But choice is important. Just don’t take a permanent solution to a temporary problem, okay? I’ll leave the key with you but I’ll tell you about it again when you’re, I don’t know, not awake because I know you’re already that. More responsive, let’s go with that. Being locked up in a tower for a year was bad enough, I don’t think a couple of hours in a box you already didn’t want to go in is any better. If anything, it is probably worse.” He was rambling. Badly. Gale needed to keep on track. “Right, anyway. I also have a bottle of warm blood for you. Actually, there’s a whole stash in the pantry but I brought you one as a snack.”

The clothes could wait, as could most other things. All Gale wanted was for Astarion to respond - the lack of heat, no breathing and no movement really was making it look like he had brought a corpse home. A shiver passed down his spine and he picked up the bottle of blood and fidgeted with the cap. It opened and closed smoothly, relaxing in its repetitive motion. Slowly, Astarion’s eyes opened.

“Oh!” Gale left the bottle open and held it out. “It’s yours if you’d like.”

Red eyes flashed up at the bottle then at Gale before looking away. Wiggling the bottle, Gale tried to get Astarion’s attention. All he got was pale nostrils flaring.

“I can help take the muzzle and cuffs off if you’d like to sit up for a drink.”

Hesitant eyes watched him, calculating and cautious before Astarion sat up. Setting the bottle down, Gale held a hand out for the cuffs, easing them off cold wrists and checking to make sure they hadn’t dug in.

“Do you wish to do the muzzle yourself?”

Rather than reply, Astarion reached up and deftly unbuckled the contraption. Gale was a little relieved to note that it hadn’t left marks. Once more he picked up the bottle and held it towards Astarion.

“Yours, I promise. And there’s more if you need.”

Distrustful, Astarion looked between Gale and the bottle. Between blinks he had lurched forward and wrenched the bottle from Gale’s hand. Blood sloshed over both of them but Astarion didn’t care. His teeth clinked against the glass as he rushed to drink deep. In fact, there was no stopping between gulps, blood trickled down his cheeks in rivulets as it flowed faster than he could drink. Once the bottle was empty, Astarion didn’t discard it. He used a thumb to collect the stray blood from his cheeks and sucked it clean before sticking a finger into the bottle to try and scoop the last vestiges out.

Part of Gale wanted to laugh, the other part of him was stricken by the display of uncontrolled hunger. Whether it was a vampire spawn thing or Astarion was that starved, it was difficult to tell.

“We can get more, if you’d like. Could make the kitchen the first stop of the tour.”

“Not your bedroom?” Astarion tried to purr but his voice cracked into something that definitely wasn’t sultry.

Flustered, Gale laughed lightly. “I mean, you can have a look in there too, of course. But I don’t think you’ll find any salacious secrets in there.” Grinning, he leaned forwards, “I keep those all in here.” He tapped his temple playfully. “Now, I think there’s one more thing to take care of before everything else. May I?”

His hands reached for the collar around Astarion’s neck. The way Astarion froze suggested he wasn’t most comfortable with it but he stayed silent. Of course it wasn’t a simple lock, Gale tried to look at it as delicately as possible. It still pressed into Astarion’s skin in a way that looked uncomfortable yet not a peep could be heard in the way of complaining. The lock itself had something odd done to it, lockpicking was impossible. Thankfully it wasn’t magically sealed, Gale would have probably been able to unpick that. Instead, it had been welded closed which didn’t make much sense, that kind of heat so close to Astarion’s neck surely wasn’t safe. Then again, Gale had seen how the centre had kept him and anger roiled through him.

“Savages, the lot of them,” he muttered as he ran a finger over the welded lock. “We’ll take a more percussive approach to this.”

Directing a Mage Hand was more precise than his own hand could be so Gale wriggled his fingers under the collar, apologising as it pulled tighter but it was still a better option than the alternative. Two of the links got pinched together and Gale brought the Mage Hand down on it with as much force as possible. The first hit did nothing other than have pain blossom in his hand. However, the second blow struck just right for the chain to break. Finally, the shock collar fell away and Gale watched as the rubbed raw skin beneath it healed before his eyes. Any pain in his hand was well worth that.

“Right-” The world toppled and Astarion was above him, the collar now tightly wrapped around his neck. Bared fangs were the first thing he could see, looming ominously over him. Then the weight of a slender body on top of him registered, along with how he was starting to get light headed from the way the collar dug into his throat. “Before you bite,” he gasped, “can I present a cause for light sampling rather than complete meal?”

“What?”

The collar loosened around Gale’s throat and blood rushed to his head as Astarion eased back, fangs still out but looking goofy instead of threatening now. It was Gale’s chance to talk.

“See, I figured you’d want a nibble, probably sooner rather than later. So I’ve had a good amount to drink and have eaten well to help ease any aftereffects that may occur.” As he spoke, he remained on the floor, rather at ease that he could talk, not worried at all about being pinned. “But hear me out. Take a bite, you’re welcome to it. However, you’ll either need a true scroll of resurrection or not drain me completely. Then you’ll have to run and hope you can get out of Baldur’s Gate alone. And with only the limited amount of blood you’ll find stashed in the kitchen which you’ll have to carry. Or! I think this is where you’ll have to agree with me, you could take a small amount. I have, what, 5 litres of blood in me? You’ve already had a 750ml bottle of blood. If you drain me, you’ll not only make yourself ill, you’ll waste a lot of blood and lose your source of willing supply. Because you could take a bit, let me live and recover, only to repeat over and over again as much as you’d like. And you won't lose the only person who is trying to help you get out of Baldur’s Gate to a better life. So, what do you say?”

“Do you always talk this much?”

“Yes.”

The collar was violently thrown into the far corner of the basement as Astarion stood up. He glared at Gale, bridge of his nose wrinkled as he pouted.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

Brightening, Gale held out a hand to shake. “I promise you won’t. Let me show you around as promised. And we’ll get you another bottle of blood. I have pig, goat and chicken, with the fishmonger promising a couple of bottles of fish to be ready for collection tomorrow.”

His hand went ignored but it didn’t stop Gale from smiling. He was still alive, Astarion was actually talking to him and they were making progress. Opening the door, he gestured for Astarion to step through. It wasn’t a big step, it wasn’t a confident step but it was a first step.

Chapter 6

Notes:

Shout out to the marvellous Nonnie who sent the ask over on tumblr! Not Humane by Staring Problem is now the unofficial theme song to this fic. Please know that I have a ficlet in the works for you as a reply to the ask. It will just take a little more time to post.

The tour of the tower was both a quick trip but also one of the longest things Gale had ever done. He didn’t want to miss anything out. While there was no reason Astarion would need to use the toilet, Gale still showed him on the off chance. Plus, Astarion now lived at the tower, it was only right he felt he could access any and all of it without ramifications.

“This is the kitchen,” he rambled, stepping into the darkened room. A couple of dancing lights illuminated the space. “This cupboard here is for you, the charms on the bottles should keep the blood warm and fresh for a week.” To demonstrate, Gale opened the cupboard and showed off the stash of bottles filled with dark, rich red liquid. Each one had a label for the source and the date of the blood. Trying to be encouraging, Gale stepped back and gestured for Astarion to pick one if he pleased. He wasn’t sure whether Astarion even looked at the label on the one he picked or if it was at random. Maybe he would ask later on.

For now there was the rest of the tower to explore. While Gale had made sure all the curtains were pulled tight, he still cracked each door open, peered in and made sure before he waved Astarion in. Much like in the kitchen, Astarion didn’t have much to say but his eyes darted around, taking everything in. Gale so badly wanted to see hope and maybe a glint of appreciation in those looks. Instead, it was all cold and assessing, whether for how to get to a source of sunlight or where best to hide knives, there was no telling. All Gale knew was that he was talking, being a tour guide in his own home and feeling rather underwhelmed by the response.

“So, that’s most of the house. But perhaps I have saved the best ‘til last.” With a flourish, he opened the door, this one he knew was all dark, he had personally covered the windows with a mixture of boards and thick cloth, left ample candles and candelabras around to make it cosy and welcoming. For now, it was rather sparse but that would hopefully change. “Welcome to your room!”

He watched as Astarion stepped in, head turning to take it all in. It was the only place that Gale didn’t follow him in, standing firmly in the doorway. That didn’t stop him from talking.

“You’re free to decorate as you wish. I’m happy to procure things for you while we figure out this sun business. I’m afraid Baldur’s Gate doesn’t have quite the vibrant nightlife as Waterdeep, shops tend to close here at rather awkward hours. Honestly, most are open maybe for an hour after people finish work. Surely it would make sense to not be open when it’s working hours. Might even make life easier for some in terms of balancing childcare, those who can’t or don’t want to work the regular 9-5, but I’m rambling again. What I’m trying to say is, please don’t hesitate to tell me what you’d like to feel more comfortable.”

Slowly, Astarion walked the perimeter of the room, never lingering on anything for longer than a disinterested glance. He ended up back by the door, eyes tight as a hand traced along the handle and found the latch.

“There’s a lock on this door.”

“Yes.”

“On the inside.”

“Yes.” Gale nodded, deliberately playing stupid.

“Locks usually go on the other side of the door.” The slow way Astarion spoke suggested he thought Gale some kind of moronic failure of a jailer.

“Only if you want to keep something in the room. Which I don’t. But if you want to keep someone or something out of your room? That’s your right.”

Eyes trailed down Gale’s body in what should have been a suggestive way but the gaze caught on how firmly his feet were outside of the room. Astarion’s sultry expression broke for a beat before smoothing out again as he looked back up into Gale’s eyes.

“Lock and latch. How very thoughtful of you.” After a soft hum he added, “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a peculiar one.”

The words should have been cutting, a judgement that found Gale lacking and yet, the way they were said was almost with wistful fondness. In no way could Gale take it as anything other than a strange sort of compliment and, as it was coming from Astarion, he was going to accept as graciously as he could. Which involved raising a hand, one finger up and taking a deep breath.

“Actually, plenty of times. But never as nicely as you just have.”

A scoff was his answer. “Nice? I’m not nice.” The door suddenly slammed shut and the lock clicked as well as the latch dropped in place. A muffled “see” was barely audible from the other side. Such petulant audacity had Gale laughing and shaking his head. If Astarion was expecting him to break down the door and barge in with punishment for his insolence, he was going to be kept waiting. Instead, Gale waited a few seconds longer in case it was some strange test before retreating. He wasn’t going to begrudge Astarion’s need for time alone. The change between the rehoming centre and his tower was already vast. And if what little Gale had gleaned about Astarion’s past was anything to go by, this kind of thing was maybe a dream if he still had those.

For the rest of the afternoon it was quiet. Gale pottered around in the kitchen, made dinner and ate alone like he usually did. Part of him had hoped that Astarion would come out of hiding, but it was a wish, nothing more. Going to bed, he pondered the idea of locking his bedroom door but decided against it in the end. Maybe it was foolish, having a nocturnal predator prowling in his house, though Astarion wasn’t the first one. When Tara returned, he would have to introduce the two. Tara already knew about Astarion’s arrival, had been rather thrilled to know that Gale wouldn’t be all by himself whenever she went back to Waterdeep.

Sleep came strangely easily. Gale didn’t wake when a silent shadow padded into his room, looked around, sat at the end of his bed to watch him before leaving again. The only sign of his visitor was the crease of bedsheets by his feet and they weren’t even noticed as Gale made his bed after waking.

Having the house shrouded in darkness was strange, Gale hadn’t thought it would be something he’d notice. But usually he opened the curtains and basked in the sun, read on the balcony if the weather was amenable, had the kitchen windows letting in a breeze along with light. Instead it was like a harsh winter evening, everything closed up and fire illuminating the way. To put it mildly, it was a little depressing. But it was only temporary. Either Gale would figure out how to help Astarion walk in sunshine again, or he would be going to Waterdeep for a better life with support from the people Gale had met.

Just like the night before, there was no sign of Astarion. As tempted as Gale was to grab a bottle of blood and go see him, he resisted. Like a skittish cat, Astarion had to come to him, it wouldn’t do for Gale to barge in and infringe on his privacy. In lieu of compromise, Gale stayed in the kitchen for an hour or so, waiting for Astarion to appear. He didn’t. Or if he was nearby, he wasn’t making himself known to Gale. Accepting this as graciously as he could, Gale retired to the nook in the living room that he’d designated as his ‘library’. The plan had been to spend a little time in Baldur’s Gate then return home once the dust had settled. Except the dust kept getting kicked up again and again into bigger and bigger clouds so Gale was stuck in his not quite self-imposed exile. He picked up a book, the basics of abjuration, and dove in. In theory he could write the book (and probably better) but there was some comfort in the fact that he still knew it all, not all was lost. Focus, practice and dedication was all he needed to claw back what he’d lost. Gale was so engrossed in the book, he didn’t notice the door to the living room get pushed further open or the figure that lingered there. The clearing of a throat had him jumping and almost dropping his tome.

“You’re out of blood.”

Four simple words but they were also incomprehensible to Gale in the moment.

“I beg your pardon?”

“There’s no more blood.” Astarion repeated. “In the cupboard. It’s all gone.”

“All of it?!”

Slinking closer, Astarion nodded. He still maintained a larger than polite distance between them but Gale couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Gosh. I can only profusely apologise. There’s not a lot of literature on the consumption rate in vampires so I had to take what I thought was an educated guess. I’ll rectify that imminently.” Book set aside, Gale stood up and grunted as his body protested. “How much more should I procure?”

“As much as you can.”

Whether it was a challenge or a hyperbole, Gale didn’t much care. He could easily make his rounds at butchers and ask for what they had. Maybe Astarion’s body was catching up on recovering from the starvation. Or maybe he was a hedonistic glutton. Either way, it didn’t matter. He asked for more so he was going to have more.

“I’ll just get ready to go out. Is there anything else I can get you while I’m shopping?”

The way Astarion stared at him, it was obvious he was contemplating and weighing up his options.

“Tartan paint.”

Blinking, Gale took a moment to process that before laughing. Wagging a finger at Astarion, he shook his head.

“I’m glad to see your sense of humour is flourishing.” He paused. “Though, if you did want to paint your room to a colour more pleasing to you, I would be delighted to assist.”

“I suppose I find your aesthetics more palatable. Szarr Palace was bland yet ostentatious.”

Nodding, Gale moved to get ready, pushing his hair into a messy bun and pondering where he’d left his shoes this time. At the door he stopped as Astarion’s voice drifted from the darkness.

“Oh, and darling?”

“Yes?”

“Some Gith democracy might be needed.”

“Gith demo-” Gale let out an ungainly snort. “Sure, I’ll do that right after procuring some mindflayer autonomy.”

It may have been his imagination but he could have sworn there was a barely audible laugh that followed him out the door.

Shopping was rather uneventful. Despite Astarion not giving him any instructions on what he’d like, Gale still found himself wanting to bring back a gift. The issue was, he didn’t know what Astarion liked. What “bland and ostentatious” actually encompassed was a bit of a mystery. So Gale did the only sensible thing and went on a bit of a spree. Things like clothes were going to have to wait but creature comforts were easier. Though the tower was generally warm, Gale suspected Astarion never had much of a chance to wrap up warm and cosy so he was going to rectify that. Thankfully, Gale did manage to exercise some self-control. He only bought a sleek, fur lined coat that looked black at first glance but shimmered iridescent in the low light of night. Plus a pair of ridiculously soft, lambskin slippers to keep the chill of the stone floors away from bare feet, and a garish wearable blanket that was a riot of colours so most definitely not ostentatious, bland or boring. Not to mention the actual patchwork quilt for the bed, all muted, rich colours and just heavy enough to hopefully feel comforting without constricting. And the hip flask he spotted, engraved with an intricate pattern and an ornate gem in the stopper - the perfect thing for when out and about, and that pesky thirst hit. At least Gale thought so. Rather proud of his haul, he almost forgot that his original destination was the butcher.

“Why, Mr. Dekarios, it’s a rare pleasure to see you so pleased these days,” a familiar voice called to him and Gale looked around in delight.

“Tara!” His eyes landed on the tressym as she landed and folded her wings primly to sit in front of him. “It is a delight to see you, old friend.”

Once he’d give her the customary scritches, Tara fluttered up onto his shoulder as they continued. Gale cleared his throat, “We have a new resident, I will introduce you when I’m back. He’s a bit skittish still.”

“At last! Your mother and I have been so concerned about you out here on your lonesome. Is this the one you were telling me about, the one with the-” Tara cleared her throat delicately, “-special dietary needs?”

“Indeed! I was just on my way to stock up some more. My research has left me vastly underprepared for the reality of an appetite.”

“Not to worry. Your dear friend Tara has your back. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have preparations to make.”

Just like that, she was gone. Gale wondered what she was up to but knew better than to call after her. All that would achieve would be some strange stares and another lecture from Tara on how uncouth it is to call after someone like that in public. She would be at the tower when she was ready, introductions could wait a little longer. So Gale trudged to the butcher as planned and stocked up on as much blood as possible.

Back home, he was certain to close the door firmly before calling out, “Astarion?” softly. Not because he didn’t want Astarion to actually hear but in case he was actually resting. There was no response. No big deal, Gale plonked his bags on the kitchen table and began unloading the jars of blood. Silence had never been his favourite thing so he began humming and muttering to himself. Before long, Gale was off on a half lecture-half rant about the spells on the jars and their efficiency, how they could be improved and other uses for the spell. If he had the energy, he would have probably stopped putting the jars away and instead set about putting his theories into practice. Alas, he was robbed of such delights and had to settle for rambling on and trying to squeeze the jars onto the shelves, standing on tiptoes to get to the highest one.

“Let me help with that,” a smooth voice purred in his ear.

Gale screamed.

Brandishing the bottle like a weapon, he twirled and almost smacked Astarion over the head with it, heart beating wildly in his chest. The bastard didn’t even look apologetic despite the way his hands were up, shoulders hunched and head ducked in anticipation of a blow.

“Tyr’s toes!” Gale placed the bottle on the counter and clutched at his chest. “Don’t do that again! I could have blasted you with a spell!”

“But you didn’t.” At last Astarion’s eyes flickered up to meet his before skittering away again. “Why?”

“Because-” Gale inhaled sharply and shook his head. “Doesn’t matter, just be glad I didn’t. You don’t look very immune to lightning.” That wasn’t the way to make Astarion relax, Gale wanted to smack himself in the head for forgetting about the collar already. He tried a different approach. “And what did you mean about helping? You’re about the same height as me!”

There it was, that unrepentant smirk and Astarion’s shoulders dropped. Nimble as anything, he hopped up onto the counter and plucked the bottle up, placing it on the top shelf with ease. Nose scrunching up, Gale eyed the sock clad feet on his counter. Which reminded him, “I got you a couple of things, I hope you don’t mind!”

One by one the items were pulled out and handed to Astarion. They were inspected, Gale pretended not to notice them being subtly sniffed. Thankfully the slippers were immediately put to use, Astarion’s eyes widened at the softness and the way they kept the chill of the floor at bay. However, the wearable blanket was met with a horrified stare. It was draped over Astarion’s arm, along with the patchwork quilt, the coat and the hip flask balanced on top.

“I think that’s everything,” Gale finally said and gave Astarion a hesitant smile which dropped from his face as he saw the other’s expression. “You hate them, don’t you? That’s okay. I can take them back. Or you can burn them if that would make you feel better. Or donate them. I didn’t mean to overstep. And once you’re up for it, we’ll try and either go out together or you give me a list of things you actually want. I just-”

“Do be quiet,” Astarion’s voice cut him off, a curious mixture of tones making it wobble. “You got all this for me?”

“Yes. Because-”

“How do you expect repayment?”

“I don’t!” Gale took a step back and leaned against the counter. “I just wanted you to have some nice things that you could call your own. So you can be comfortable. So you can be you.”

“And tell me, who am I?”

The words were so quiet, Gale could have pretended to not hear them. Instead he watched Astarion until red eyes dragged up from the floor to meet his gaze.

“You’re whoever you want to be. You’re Astarion.” Temptation was to give him a last name, even if it was Gale’s own. Something, anything to make him a person rather than a creature.

“Ancunín.” As he said it, Astarion stared into Gale’s eyes. “My full name is Astarion Ancunín.”

Oh. So he already had a full name. Gale had to wonder when the last time was that he was acknowledged as an equal.

“Well then, Mr. Astarion Ancunín, I look forward to getting to know you better.”

The soft “me too” was hidden in the pile over Astarion’s arm. As quietly as he arrived, he left with his things, leaving Gale to tidy away the shopping bags and quickly clean the counter where Astarion had stood.

For the rest of the day Astarion was nowhere to be seen though Gale could have sworn he felt a pair of eyes watching him from time to time. Not that it mattered. Astarion knew where he was and could seek him out if needed. At least Tara hadn’t returned from her errands yet either so there was no need to worry about finding Astarion for introductions. The evening wore on and Gale retired to bed, satisfied that things were starting to maybe settle.

Sleep was bliss. Until a yowling screech woke Gale and he sat up with his heart hammering in his chest. Growls and hisses shredded the peace of the night. Sounds that were not only terrifying but also disturbing because they were coming from the roof of the tower. Even worse, they sounded like Tara.

Gown barely tied to keep him decent, Gale rushed up the stairs and burst out onto the top of the tower, mind full of spells even if none were quite at his fingertips. Anything he might have tried to cast fizzled out as he took in the scene. Tara, wings spread, back arched and teeth bared on a hiss. Opposite her, Astarion was crouched, teeth equally on show, a hiss of his own bubbling in his throat as he clutched a struggling pigeon to his chest.

“What’s going on?” Gale managed to ask.

Not taking her eyes off Astarion, Tara let out an indignant yowl.

“This reprobate is trying to steal my finest pigeon.”

“I caught it, it’s mine,” Astarion shot back, glaring at Tara.

“You jumped in like a barely weaned kitten and got lucky. I’ve spent the whole afternoon leaving crumbs and seeds to lure that pigeon in. It is mine.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Gale screwed his eyes shut. A pigeon. Of all the things to argue over, it was a pigeon.

“Why do either of you even want the pigeon?” He managed to grit out.

Tara cleared her throat, sitting down and pulling herself regally straight. “That is the plumpest pigeon in this quarter. I wanted to present an offering to our newest resident, only the finest from dear old Tara.”

“I wanted a snack,” Astarion snapped.

“Right. Tara, meet Astarion. Astarion, this is Tara, a dear friend of mine. So, the pigeon is with the intended recipient, Tara. And Astarion, you saw how many jars of blood I brought home, why not have one of those.”

“We’re out.”

Surely not. Gale couldn’t quite believe it. But he had to check, so he nodded.

“Very well. Just don’t leave a mess or eat anyone or anything important. We don’t need the City Watch pounding on the door with that kind of thing. Now, you two have been introduced so please, keep it down. Some of us do actually need sleep.”

He was too old and tired to deal with such things. Before he went back to bed, Gale walked into the kitchen and opened the cupboard, expecting to see the large stash of blood he’d bought. All the shelves were empty. Bugger.

Chapter 7

Waking up with a sore throat was never a good thing. Self-pity wasn’t really Gale’s style but he did allow himself a soft groan and an extra minute in bed, huddled under the warm covers. Then it was time to get up and start the day. He was going to need to find another butcher for blood, maybe try and talk to Astarion a little more to get to know him and ask just exactly how much blood he should be procuring. Maybe first he’d get a warm tea because he didn’t think his voice would hold out for a conversation without it.

Slumped at the table, Gale breathed in the warm steam from his mug and sighed. He had rather hoped that with more than just him in the tower it would feel less empty. For the last couple of days it actually had too, but now his brain was catching up with reality and disappointment crushed him a little further. The tower was silent. Tara was probably off in a huff, Astarion likely sulking over the pigeon malarkey and Gale was throwing himself a pity party in a dark kitchen. Dark because he didn’t know how else to make friends other than adopt them. Back in Waterdeep, before it all went so horribly wrong, people had flocked to him. Gale hadn’t needed to make an effort, he had friends everywhere. Friends who were quick to leave him. Friends who maybe didn’t want him for who he was but rather what he was. Friends who perhaps weren’t friends after all. And here, in Baldur’s Gate he hadn’t had much luck with meeting people. The loneliness was eating away at him almost as badly as the unmentionable. Gale didn’t know which one hurt worse. Which was why he had looked into finding a companion to adopt and had fallen down the horrifying rabbit hole of humanoid companions and their treatment in the city. The need to help was what drove him to uncover the Emerald Grove, a druid led organisation that was dedicated to helping get humanoid ‘companions’ out of Baldur’s Gate until legislation changed. Despite their best efforts, change was slow and heavily resisted. Which was where Gale had come in, offering a channel for smuggling out those he could help.

As altruistic as it sounded, Gale’s actual motive was less pure. He wanted friends. Wanted people who admired him for what he could do again. Even if it wasn’t his prowess with magic, he could content himself with being on the right side of an argument and standing up for what he believed was right.

Taking a sip of his tea, Gale tried to pull himself together. It was quite enough of a pity party, he didn’t even have cake. And thinking of the right thing to do, he needed to check in with Astarion, to make sure he was okay after the previous night and clarify just how much blood he needed. If he was resorting to pigeons despite all the blood Gale had bought, he must be ravenous. A niggle in the back of his mind whispered that maybe vampires were as insatiable and in a constant state of bloodlust as the stories always said. Except Gale was still alive, though that might have been to do with his impeccable logic rather than luck.

Clearing his throat, Gale finished his tea and put the mug in the sink. He could deal with it later. First, he had to talk to Astarion. Knocking on the door, he waited for an answer which never came. A louder knock was met with the same lack of response.

“Astarion?” Maybe he was sleeping. Though elves generally tranced and didn’t need that long as far as he knew. And, from what he’d seen so far, Astarion was a bit of an arsehole so it probably wasn’t a big stretch of imagination to think he was being deliberately ignored. Gale knocked once more, rapping his fist firmly against the wood. “Astarion. I really need to talk to you please. You don’t have to come out but at least tell me how much blood I need to buy for you to keep you comfortable.”

There were so many words he wanted to use; sated, happy, full, contented. Yet he went with ‘comfortable’ because that was what he actually wanted Astarion to be and the rest sounded too judgemental in his head. Not that it mattered because there was still no reply. Internally, Gale was at war with himself. On one hand he’d promised Astarion privacy and a space that was exclusively his. On the other hand, he was starting to get worried. Maybe he was in another part of the tower. Searching through his own home was a peculiar experience. It brought a whole new light to it, or rather, darkness because of the curtains. The more rooms he looked in, the more Gale started to panic, calling out for Astarion louder and louder. There was no evidence of his errant vampire, it was daylight and none of the curtains showed signs of being disturbed. So where was Astarion?

The last place to look was the basement and Gale descended the steps, half out of his mind with worry. Why Astarion would feel the need to retreat to the bleak room was beyond him. He stumbled in, huffing and slightly out of breath only to find it as empty as ever. Against his better judgement, Gale even looked in the crate Astarion had arrived in. That was empty too.

“Astartion?!” He was yelling and he didn’t care that his voice was breaking. Not like there was anyone there to hear him anyway.

Dread filled Gale. He’d last seen Astarion on the roof. What if he had got stuck out there and the sun had come up. Almost scared, Gale flung open the door, not too dissimilar to how he’d burst out there at the sound of Tara and Astarion’s scuffle. Only this time he knew what he was looking for, a pile of ash, maybe a charred corpse that had cowered behind any shred of cover Astarion could find. Once again, there was nothing. Not even a speck of unexpected dust. It was as much relief as it was frustrating. Astarion hadn’t died on the rooftop which was good. But he was also missing which was beyond bad.

Naturally that was the moment Tara chose to return, fluttering down next to Gale and tucking her wings in.

“Something troubling you, Mr. Dekarios?”

“Astarion’s gone. You haven’t seen him, have you?”

“I can’t say I have but I haven’t been keeping an eye on him. After his rather rude demeanour during our encounter, I have not been eager to cross paths with him again.”

Shoulders slumping, Gale let out a despairing sigh. This was hopeless. For all he knew, Astarion was in the tower but keeping out of his way, slinking through the shadows and being an irritating twit. Perhaps Gnarwa had been right, the pretty exterior did hide something much more sinister than Gale had wanted to believe.

“I don’t need you to interact with him, I wouldn’t dream of asking something so trying. But would you be kind enough to see whether he’s home? I’ve looked everywhere.”

Despite having a cat’s face, Tara was still able to create expressions that were far too human. Right now, Gale could read sadness mixed with resignation and a hint of pity. He knew exactly why but refused to acknowledge it and face his own lack of high enough level spells. Watching Tara take off, he chose to settle on one of the benches and revel in the sun. It hadn’t been long since the tower was shrouded in darkness yet it already felt like he hadn’t seen natural light in an entire lifetime.

“Mr. Ancunín is not at this residence. Peering into his room through the window, I can also say with some certainty that he has taken the patchwork quilt you gifted him.”

Whether that was a good sign or a bad one, Gale didn’t know. Defeat wasn’t an emotion he was overly familiar with until of late and he really didn’t like it. Not only was he a failure as a wizard, he was now also a failure at rehoming someone who needed help. Gale had to wonder what it was about him that repulsed not just the divine but also the mortal and the undead too. If so many avoided him then the issue had to be him, he was the only common denominator.

More to himself than Tara, Gale muttered a soft “I hope he’s at least safe” and closed his eyes. A nap in the sun didn’t sound like a bad idea, even if he had only woken up not that long ago. Between his throat and the stress of looking for Astarion, he decided he earned a break.

A nap had been a terrible idea. When Gale woke from it, he wasn’t sure what time it was, let alone what plane of existence. Groggily sitting up, he instantly wished he hadn’t as his head throbbed. The sun was still up but Gale retreated into the welcome darkness of the house. Maybe having a vampire spawn as a housemate wasn’t such a bad idea. Which reminded him that Astarion was still missing. Shuffling into the kitchen, Gale set about making himself another tea, mind sluggishly trying to think about where Astarion could have gone. His conclusion was; anywhere. Hopefully he hadn’t walked out into the sun as he’d said he would, that would be a great shame. The idea of seeing his pale features darken to ash and crumble plagued Gale’s mind. He could just imagine it, charred flakes peeling off as wind ruffled once white and shiny hair that was turning to smoke and cinders. Unable to tear his mind from it, Gale had to wonder whether it would smell. He knew the stench of searing flesh, how it could be tantalisingly sweet or rancidly acrid depending on the temperature. Against his better instinct, he played out the scenario in his mind, against various backgrounds and situations. Astarion had gone out to die, sat atop a roof to watch the sun rise. Astarion going out to explore, hurrying back to the safety of the tower but being too late as he was caught in the sun. Astarion, after leaving, getting into a fight because he tried to feast from the wrong person, being beaten up and left for dead in some alley until the sun rose and finished him off. It was all Gale could think of, Astarion, Astarion, Astarion. He had to find him. Had to know what happened.

Boiled water for the tea forgotten, Gale stumbled out of the kitchen, newly determined. Another search of the tower was probably a good idea, he must have missed Astarion on his first look. Calling out for him was a failed attempt as his voice cracked and barely pressed out from Gale’s sore throat. Each room was turned upside down as he searched, hoping that maybe Astarion was wedged behind the sofa’s cushion like Tara had been that time as a kitten. There was no sign of Astarion. Gale even searched his own bedroom, on the off chance he’d had a nighttime visitor he’d missed. But no. The only things he’d found were long lost quills, hairbands and a half written scroll which he binned. Slumped on the bed, Gale closed his eyes, scrunched them tight to keep all the emotions within his chest. His chance at doing something good, his chance at friendship, it was gone. All he had left was silence, a bedroom he refused to step into and an ache deep in his chest that wasn’t the usual pain of hubris. Not even Tara was there to comfort him or keep him company. Flopping over onto the bed, Gale pulled the cover over himself, shivering with cold despite how warm his tower usually was. It was for the best to go to sleep, forget about his headache, his sore throat, his missing vampire spawn and everything else he had ever messed up in his sorry life. He drifted off, a lump of misery under a duvet that couldn’t seem to keep him warm.

Chapter 8

Notes:

All your comments are wonderful and provide fuel to get the next chapter of this story out as quickly as I can. December can be a busy or difficult month so please be kind to yourselves! I'll try and reply to comments when I have a moment but, you know, it's December and battery levels are running low.

Being ill was awful. Gale had thought that sleeping for most of the day would make it all disappear. However, as he was finding, he was wrong more often than he liked to be. Come evening, he sat bleary eyed on the sofa, contemplating putting the fire on. He was a little chilly but the weather didn’t indicate he should be cold. It wasn’t like it was the dead of winter, there wasn’t even any rain or snow. From what Gale knew, snow wasn’t even a certain for Baldur’s Gate, not like Waterdeep where it transformed the already magical city into something enchanting. So he stubbornly kept the fire unlit, determined to will himself into better health and warmth. For some elusive reason it wasn’t working. All Gale was achieving were longer and longer blinks with his head falling forward every once in a while. The room was so empty despite the clutter of his hobbies and interests. Gale blinked. His head jerked up and he barely avoided giving a snotty snort as he opened his eyes again. He wasn’t alone.

“Oh.” So many emotions passed through his mind at seeing Astarion sat in the armchair off to the side, checking his fingernails and cleaning them with a dagger. “You’re back.”

A disinterested hum was the response and Gale knew he should be angry. Furious even. After all he’d done for Astarion, the man had the audacity to disappear without warning and return like a cat that was disappointed that the world hadn’t come along with a better offer of existence. Yet all Gale could think was that Astarion had come back and he was relieved. Grateful, actually. However, he now had so many questions that he didn’t even know where to start. Perhaps it was best to be practical.

“Have you eaten?”

Astarion looked at him from the corner of his eyes, red as blood. Almost bored, he drawled, “Yes.”

“Okay. Good. I don’t know how to ask this without being insensitive but did you kill them?” Gale cleared his throat and pushed on even as Astarion turned to finally properly look at him. “Do you need help hiding the body? Not because I think you’re incompetent or anything like that. In fact, you probably know this city much better than I do, with all its nooks and crannies. But if the authorities catch wind of this, I think it is better if we have our story straight. And while my magic may be a little weaker than desired, I still cast a mean firebolt so I’m sure we can do away with any incriminating evidence. I’ll just go and get a cloak, slip some boots on and we can go. Oh, no, we can’t, can we? Wait. No. It’s evening.” Pushing up, Gale stood. “Right. Give me two minutes and I’m at your disposal. Not like that. Please don’t dispose of me. I meant that I’ll be all yours. No, that’s not right either. I mean-”

A slender hand raised from the far side of the armchair and a half drunk bottle of blood dangling from between pale fingers came into view, silencing Gale. All the energy he’d mustered up to go and deal with the assumed problem evaporated in a single breath. Rather heavily, he plopped back down onto the sofa.

“Oh. Oh dear. My assumption must be horribly rude. I did not mean to cause offence and you can excuse my ignorance and lack of manners.”

Astarion continued to stare at him over the lip of the bottle, taking a dainty sip that could have even hidden a smile. His silence was getting to Gale, pushing him to fill the silence except his emotions were still catching up. The fury he’d buried under relief came roaring back.

“Would it have killed you to leave a note at least?”

“I left one on my pillow.”

“You did?” Gale didn’t know whether to laugh or rage. It was the one place he didn’t set foot in, so intent on preserving Astarion’s privacy.

“No.”

Anger it was. Gale ground his teeth as he glared at Astarion.

“You are infuriating and you know it.”

“I do.”

Fuckng hell. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Gale tried to let out a sigh but ended up clearing his throat instead to disguise a cough.

“Next time, please leave a note to say you’re going out. It would save me turning the house upside down in a panic.”

Once again, Astarion regarded him with a politely blank expression as he sipped his blood straight from the jar. Licking his lips clean, his eyebrow raised.

“With what?”

Gesturing around them, Gale struggled to form words.

“You live here. So this is all yours too. I’m a wizard for crying out loud, there’s always parchment and ink and quills all over the place.”

“Darling, save the whole ‘what’s mine is yours’ act for marriage. It wouldn’t do for your pet to get ideas now, would it? It’s a slippery slope, next thing you know, the youth will be marrying their cats and chicken.”

“I don’t have a pet?” It came out as a question more than a statement because Gale was absolutely lost. He got no response as Astarion watched him with mock benevolence and patience. The clock ticked steadily but Gale still didn’t know what Astarion meant. Unless…no, surely not. He cleared his throat and tried to make himself sound assertive. “I don’t have a pet. I have a tressym and a housemate.”

Finally, Astarion laughed. It wasn’t a warm or good sound. The smile didn’t reach his eyes and the way he was so angular and rigid in his seat sealed the fact that it wasn’t wholly genuine.

“You call it whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“A friend.”

His comment went ignored except for the slight hitch in breath that may have been his imagination and nothing more. Given how Astarion continued to talk over him, maybe it was just Gale’s wishful thinking.

“I couldn’t help but notice the house is quite the tip. I suspect you’ll want me to set it right.”

It was Gale’s turn to be brief in his answers as he sighed out a “no” which felt as heavy as the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Is it not my punishment for making you fret?” Against all odds, Astarion’s easy confidence wavered. “I couldn’t help but notice my room wasn’t upturned like the rest of your home.”

“Because I do value things like privacy. I said it was your room and I’d never step in there uninvited.” Finally, Gale had enough. As glad as he was that Astarion was home, he was tired, cranky and ill. “If you insist on being such a stubborn mule then please do continue but I shall take my leave.”

Standing up, Gale wobbled a little but he managed what he thought was a fairly dignified stomp to his bedroom where he curled up under the duvet and fell into uneasy sleep.

Come morning, he felt worse if that was even possible. Head stuffy, nose bunged and throat aching with each swallow, Gale had to face the very real fact that he was poorly for the first time in so long. Before everything went so horribly wrong, something as insignificant as a bout of illness was unthinkable, a perk of his station as Chosen had been the lack of sickness. It was yet another thing to add to the long list of things he missed since falling from favour. Alas, just because he was unwell didn’t mean that he was exempt from his duties.

First things first, Gale shuffled into the kitchen to make himself a tea. He barely noticed that everything had been carefully set back to how it usually was. Any sign of his frantic searching was gone. If he’d had the energy to look further, Gale would have found that the whole tower had been restored to its usual lived-in mess. Gone were the sofas at jaunty angles, back in their usual places, feet in the holes they’d left in the carpet over time, any piles of books that had been knocked over were carefully stacked again, wardrobe doors closed once clothes meticulously hung back up. However, Gale was too caught up in trying to breathe and continue existing to truly appreciate anything beyond the steam from his cup warming his face. It helped him think, a list of chores for the day was slowly forming though the only thing he could really think of was getting more blood for Astarion. The fishmonger should have the requested bottles ready.

“I once saw a mange riddled sewer rat climb out of a glue trap and it looked in better shape than you.”

Somehow Gale’s headache got worse. He looked up from his mug to squint at Astarion. In the low light of candles and fire in the hearth, Gale could see how people were lured in by looks. Astarion looked almost created for such soft lighting, the shadows cast accentuated his cheekbones, made his eyes glimmer so dark red they could be the most sinfully rich chocolate, deep and hypnotising. Remembering that he was a predator and this was very much his element didn’t help with the appreciation. If anything, knowing what he was added something to the allure, a forbidden danger as gorgeous as a harpy’s song. Then again, Gale had always had a penchant for being drawn to the forbidden. Idly, he rubbed his chest.

At apparently being ignored, Astarion pressed his lips into a firm line and stood with what should have been a casual lean against the doorframe. Despite his nonchalance, Gale couldn’t help but feel that he was being watched. He cleared his throat.

“I’ll get you more blood today.” What should have been his voice coming from his mouth sounded like a breaking wet sapling but Gale didn’t have it in him to care, let alone be mortified.

“And infect the good people of Baldur’s Gate with whatever horrific lurgy you have? I should think not. Back to bed with you.”

“But-”

“No. Absolutely not, I will not hear of it. You have a date with your bed and that’s that.”

Something released in Gale at that, being told what to do in no uncertain terms. Following orders did come somewhat naturally to him though this was the first time in a while the order was for his own wellbeing.

“Fine.” Resigned, he stood up and, taking his mug, went back to bed.

The day didn’t improve. Sleep was fitful and mucous plentiful. Gale wished he had had the foresight to have a jug of water next to his bed along with investing in some more handkerchiefs. Given the rate at which he was filling them, he was going to run out before the day was over.

Another bout of restless sleep was interrupted by the ringing of the bell by his door which echoed through the house. Stumbling down, Gale opened it with bleary eyes.

“Mr Dekarios.” Of all the people, it had to be Gnarwa and the two half-orcs on his doorstep. “I know we said we’d visit in a week but we were in the area and your new companion is of a rather challenging nature so I thought we’d drop by.”

“Now’s not a good time,” Gale hoarsely whispered. “Don’t want you to catch this.”

“Nonsense, I had it just last week so don’t worry.”

At least Gale knew where he’d picked the illness up from, Gnarwa had been rather sniffly and coughing when he’d had his last meeting and brought Astarion home. While pondering this, Gnarwa had stepped around him and into the house, looking around with great curiosity at how dark it was.

“You let him free roam?” Gale’s reply was lost in a cough and Gnarwa waved him off. “Never mind, you’re still alive and don’t have any new holes. I just need to lay eyes on him and then we’ll leave you to it.”

Just like that, she was off towards the basement. Protests were on the tip of Gale’s tongue, he should have said Astarion was indeed somewhere in the house. Maybe even claimed he was tied up in the bedroom even if that wasn’t really believable in Gale’s current state. He barely had breath to cough let alone put some effort into something as energetic as sex. However, Gnarwa was out of earshot and he had to hurry down the stairs to catch up with her. Almost there, only a couple of steps to go before the door, he heard a low whistle.

“It seems I may have misjudged you, Mr Dekarios. You’re not as much of a soft touch as I assumed.”

Confusion spurred Gale on and he almost tripped into the basement in his hurry. There was Astarion, manacles around his wrists, the awful collar around his throat and all chained to the wall. Even worse, he was stark naked, head bowed and the perfect picture of submission. Gale’s heart plummeted.

“He-”

“It’s okay.” Gnarwa was actually laughing a little. “He’s your companion, we are well aware that they fulfill different functions for people. As long as they are securely kept, we don’t much care what happens behind closed doors. Boys-” she clicked her fingers, “-get the transport box.”

As quickly as they arrived, Gale was back at the door in no time, waving them off and closing it behind them. Sagging, he let out a sigh and dropped his head against the door.

“What a rude interlude to the evening.”

Spinning at the words, Gale watched as Astarion deftly finished lacing up his shirt.

“How?”

“Don’t play so shocked, darling,” Astarion drawled. “I heard them approach the door. The brutes were bickering ever so loudly.”

Of course, elven senses were sharper and Gale suspected vampirism enhanced them too. Still, he couldn’t quite fathom out why Astarion had been naked and chained up in the basement. And now he was standing in front of him, like his usual self, no sign of manacles or the collar that had been flung into the far corner of the basement as soon as it was off.

“But- Chains-” More coughs interrupted his words and Astarion actually smiled like he was pleased with himself.

“A bit of cunning genius, even if I do say so myself. They weren’t here for a welfare check, they wanted to see me under control. So I gave them that. If they thought you were actually taking care of me, they would have stayed longer.” After a beat he added,” And you do, you know. You do take good care of me. Now, back to bed with you.”

Chapter 9

There were voices. It was dark and there were hushed voices arguing somewhere off to the side. Gale grumbled to himself and pulled the warm blanket into a tighter cocoon around himself.

“Now look what you’ve done!”

That was definitely Astarion. However, the female voice wasn’t Tara or his mother. In fact Gale didn’t think he’d ever heard that voice before.

“It’s about time he stirred. Why were you so hamfisted with the draught?”

“Hamfisted? Me?!” All pretence of keeping it quiet was lost to Astarion’s outrage. “You told me he needs fluids and sleep. But he was worse after that. I thought it was because he didn’t sleep well so added a bit of sleeping potion to his tea. You were the doctor, you should have given me something that worked.”

“He’s human, it takes them days to get over something small like this. One sleep and a drink doesn’t solve things like it does for us.”

Gale cracked his eyes open and almost laughed at the disdain on Astarion’s face that he could just about make out.

“How…fragile.”

“So were you. So was I.” The strange woman was also elven, pale and with white hair like Astarion yet had none of his haughty air. In fact, she looked kind and approachable by contrast, even a little downtrodden.

The growled warning of “Dal” was lost to Gale sniffing loudly and clearing his throat. Immediately there were two sets of eyes on him, one filled with fear while the other had a soft understanding quality to it. First impressions were long gone so Gale had to make his first words count.

“If I’d known we were having a visitor, I’d have put the kettle on.” At least Astarion’s anxiety seemed to morph into indulgent disbelief while the so called ‘Dal’ laughed, smile wide. It showed off her fangs and Gale immediately rectified, “Or stocked up on more blood. Though I’m not sure I have enough to support two such voracious appetites for long.”

“Voracious appetite?” Dal looked at Astarion with raised eyebrows who elbowed her none too gently with a hissed “shut up” and a glare. “Mister Dekarios, it is a pleasure to meet you though I wish the circumstances were better-”

“You weren’t supposed to meet him at all,” Astarion grumbled and muttered “he’s mine” under his breath.

“-hopefully you’ll be up and well again in no time. I’m Dalyria, one of Astarion’s siblings.”

Aside from being pale and elven, Gale struggled to see any familial resemblance but it might have been because of the low level of light. He tried for a polite smile and pushed to sit up but a cold hand pressed against him.

“You’re not getting up,” Astarion informed him. “And Dal isn’t my sister, she’s just another sucker who got caught in the same web of lies I did.”

“Old habits die hard. I was also one of Cazador’s spawns. He insisted we were a family, that the seven of us were siblings.”

That did explain things but another issue arose in Gale’s mind. Clearing his throat again, he looked at Dalyria.

“Were you at the same centre too?”

Astarion and Dalyria exchanged a look before any answer came. Even so, it was hesitant and guarded.

“No. I didn’t end up at a centre.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Gale closed his eyes, only to open them when a cold finger poked him. “What?” The pointed look from Astarion didn’t help. “I am! Glad that is. That centre was awful.”

“I’m going to wait for your brain to wake up and figure it out.”

“Star!” Dalyria gave her brother a shove. “I thought it was a secret. He might not be safe.”

Now Gale was truly lost and he coughed wretchedly into the crook of his elbow as the other two glared at each other. Whatever it was, they weren’t getting anywhere with their silent glares and tiny changes to expressions.

“Just what is going on?” The words were croaked but at least it broke the staring contest.

“Mister Dekarios,” Dalyria moved so she was closer to the door, “I’ve spent almost two years living independently in this city.”

“Okay…”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Astarion let out a strangled growl. “She doesn’t have an ‘owner’, ran from the palace before the authorities could find her. What are you going to do about it?”

For a few seconds Gale was silent, figuring out just what all that meant. Not just for Dalyria’s situation but also the possible lengths Astarion had gone to in order to help him recuperate.

“I value your trust and kindness to assist in my recovery. If you’re looking for a way out of the city, to somewhere more, uh, welcoming, I have a contact in Waterdeep who can help.”

“You’d help her but not me?!” If Astarion had been trying to keep the hurt from his voice, he was doing a very poor job of it.

“I want to help you both,” Gale settled on saying. “Dalyria might be quicker though, the centre is keeping a very close eye on us, if you go missing then I won’t be able to help anyone else. But we’ll get you to Waterdeep too, I promise.”

Sniffing in displeasure, Astarion turned away like an insulted cat. There wasn’t anything Gale could do about it though, he was doing his very best in a very shitty situation. If it wasn’t enough for Astarion, that was on him.

“It’s very kind of you, Mister Dekarios but I have obligations in this city that I can’t leave behind just yet.” Another knowing look passed between Darylia and Astarion. “Maybe, once things are a little less strained, we could revisit the idea.”

“Of course. In the meantime, please know you’re welcome to visit any time you like. I’m sure Astarion would be glad to see you, or any of his siblings for that matter.”

A scoff from Astarion suggested Gale might have been wrong. That was on him to sort out and determine who of his forced family was a welcome sight. All Gale could do was be a conduit or host of some sort, easing the way when the path was already a treacherous, bramble covered mess.

“Right. Well, we’ve established that Gale isn’t dying. Dal, I’m sure you have better places to be, better things to be doing than flirting with my-” the words trailed off before Astarion lamely added, “-owner” though it had none of the disdain and fury such a word should have.

Snickering a little, Dalyria gave Gale a firm nod. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mister Dekarios, I hope you feel better soon.”

She was promptly ushered out of the room and Gale couldn’t make out the furious yet hushed words being exchanged. He wasn’t too fussed, Astarion could hold his own and Dalyria had seemed nice enough. Left to his own devices, Gale snuggled into the bed, frowning at the realisation that they were the spare ones. Someone must have changed them not too long ago because they still felt fresh, even if a little damp from sweat. Closing his eyes, he sighed. A little more sleep wouldn’t hurt.

Thankfully, the worst of the illness was over and Gale was back up on his feet not a couple of days later. Oddly, nothing in the tower was out of place. He would have thought it was the prime opportunity for Astarion to have a thorough rummage, there was no chance of being found. Sure, the man could be sneaky if he wanted to but Gale very much doubted even he could place things back in such exact positions that no dust was disturbed or spilled ketchup over paper sheets was realigned. What was even more important was that Gale’s little stash of trinkets hadn’t been touched. Yes, they were valuable but it wasn’t the price that had Gale on edge about it, they were worth so much more than gold to him. It had been too long since he’d absorbed some of the Weave and, glancing around guiltily, he grabbed a pendant at random, clutching it to his chest. Breathing came easier, the world was less constricted and Gale sighed. He hated what he had been reduced to, shame burned in his chest along with the magic. Behind him, the door opened and Gale whirled around in surprise. He had expected Astarion to be sleeping, or at least trancing.

“Take it.” A scrap of fabric was shoved against Gale’s chest. Looking down at it, it looked like Astarion’s shroud.

“It’s yours. You need it.”

“I don’t want it.” The shroud was pushed against Gale’s chest more forcefully and he reluctantly curled a fist around it. Immediately, Astarion skittered away, eyes red rimmed and tired. Carefully, Gale folded up the shroud neatly, watching Astarion throughout it. His eyes were glued to the fabric, expression a strange mix of wistful and hateful.

Draping the folded shroud on the back of the sofa, Gale patted it. “We can leave it here for whenever you want.”

“I don’t want it. Destroy it.”

“You need it to sleep.”

“I’m never sleeping again.” With that, Astarion spun on his heels and disappeared back into the hallway, leaving Gale standing alone once again, more confused than he had been in a while.

Chapter 10

The shroud remained folded on the back of the sofa. Every time Gale walked past it, he couldn’t help but fuss, smooth out perceived wrinkles, refolded it, even cast a cleaning spell on it against his better judgement. Nothing made the slightest bit of difference. Astarion stubbornly refused to use it, didn’t even acknowledge it. In fact, he became more withdrawn as each day went by. No demand for more blood, no disdainful inspection of the rooms, none of Gale’s books were removed from the library for a couple of days before being returned. The few times Gale actually saw Astarion, he looked drawn, dark circles under his eyes. That fragility he’d seen at the centre returned and Gale hated it. There was nothing he could do about it.

Opportunity presented itself. Despite his tendency to hide away, sometimes Astarion ended up resting in the most obscure of places. Gale had almost incinerated his kitchen the time he’d walked in on Astarion curled up on the counter, eyes closed, not breathing. As soon as Gale made a noise, his eyes snapped open and he stalked out of the room as if nothing had been out of the ordinary.

“Mister Dekarios,” Tara yowled. “You have to do something. I was wishing to have a drink but Mr. Ancunin is in the tub. Again.”

“You have your own water fountain to drink from, there’s no need to drink from the bath tap.”

“But it tastes better.”

Clicking his tongue, Gale didn’t bother arguing, it was a discussion he’d lost multiple times already and had no desire to lose once more. Instead, he grabbed the shroud from the back of the sofa and quietly padded to the bathroom. Sure enough, Astarion was in the tub, curled up, a hand protectively over his head. As silently as he could, Gale draped the shroud over him. Temptation was to get him a warmer blanket and a pillow but that was too risky. He had theorised that while Astarion couldn’t enter a restorative sleep, he could still meditate in short stints to somewhat rest but it was more a survival instinct to help get somewhere safe before true sleep could be taken. It most definitely wasn’t good as a long term stand-in for actual rest. Not that Astarion seemed bothered by such facts. Tiptoeing out of the bathroom, Gale patted himself on the back for a job well done.

A sharply cut off wail interrupted all of Gale’s thoughts not ten minutes later, right as he had sunk into ‘Missives of Candlekeep’. Both he and Tara jumped and raced to the source of the sound; the bathroom. Barging in without thought, Gale tried to find the danger. There was none. It was just Astarion, sat in the bathtub, back pressed against the side.

“Get out!” The shroud was flung towards Gale before yanked back and Astarion tried to cover himself with it. “Get out!” He shrieked again.

Crouching by the tub, Gale tried his best to look unthreatening. He reached out, only for Astarion to rear away.

“Don’t touch me!”

The shroud covered his body and Gale’s eyes caught on the issue. His cheeks burned as he glanced away from Astarion’s crotch.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to- That is, I thought- I assumed you were hurt.”

This time the shroud did get hurled at him as Astarion curled in on himself.

“Fuck off. Just fuck off!”

The way he was crying suggested that being caught in an embarrassing situation wasn’t the issue. Well, it might have been the final straw but unlikely to be the crux. Folding the shroud, Gale reached for a hand towel and offered it to Astarion while quietly saying, “I’m not here to hurt you. And I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you truly want. But you don’t have to be alone.” Trying to aim for a smidge of levity, he added, “I can even be quiet if you want some silent company.”

Knees to his chest and arms around his shins, Astarion’s face was tucked down and hidden.

“Please leave. Please. I can’t- Please.”

Nod unseen, Gale pushed himself up and walked towards the door.

“When you’re ready for some company, join me in the living room if you’d like. I was planning on having a quiet evening of reading.” What Gale didn’t mention was that his reading material had just changed significantly. Candlekeep could burn down for all that he cared now. Instead, Gale made a beeline for his bookshelves to see whether it had anything on the anatomy and habits of humanoid species.

Even settled into his armchair, Gale struggled to read his book, keeping an ear out for any sound from the bathroom and whether Astarion was approaching. Despite this, he managed to refresh his memory somewhat on elves and their rest - how they relived memories in their dreams. Given what little he knew of Astarion’s history, Gale would have put good money on those being nightmares rather than anything pleasant. But that didn’t exactly align with the erection Astarion had been sporting. Perhaps it was a vampire thing? Gale was sorely lacking in literature on vampires beyond the common titles that generally described how to kill a vampire rather than help one recover from trauma. From the corner of his eye, Gale saw Tara’s ears prick up towards the door and he looked up just in time to see it swing open. Astarion stood there, a book of his own clutched against his chest. Sadly, he looked no more rested than before his impromptu nap in the tub.

“Welcome! Come on in, make yourself at home!”

“You’ve already invited me into the house. I don’t need invites each time I want to go in a room.”

The reply would have stung if Gale could forget the broken way Astarion had begged him to leave. Rather than take it to heart, he smiled wide.

“I know. But I like making sure you are confident in your welcome to share this space.”

No reply was forthcoming but Gale could see the fake confidence in Astarion’s strides as he moved to perch on the other armchair. Unlike Gale, who all but melted into a comfortable sprawl, Astarion sat on the edge, one sudden noise away from bolting. Feeling kind, Gale picked up his book and tried to start reading again. If he’d thought he was distracted before, it was nothing compared to the way Astarion’s presence drew his eyes from his book. Mostly motionless, it was long, pale fingers that fidgeted with the cover of the book before moving to scratch at the textured fabric of the cushion, picking at the bobbles that Tara’s biscuit making sessions had created. He let it go on, hoping Astarion would break the silence if he had something to say. Though a patient man, even Gale had his limits and he let his book rest on his lap.

“Is something on your mind?”

“No.” Astraion couldn’t meet his eyes. “Yes. But no.”

“Okay.” Hand hovering over his book, Gale paused before withdrawing it to give Astarion one more chance. “I was reading about elves and their dreams. Is it true that when you sleep, you dream of the past?”

Astarion visibly deflated, shoulders hunched and head bowed.

“Yes.”

“I hope you get to dream of the time before you became a vampire spawn then.” It was the kindest thing Gale could think of saying. Whether it was the correct thing to say was undecided because Astarion’s head whipped up and stared at him.

“I-” Astarion licked his lips and shook his head. “I don’t remember the before.” Silence seemed to prompt him to say more. “I think I was a magistrate, probably a mean and corrupt bastard. But that’s all I have.”

Heart squeezing, Gale tried not to say anything too cheesy. He failed.

“I hope that we can help you make much more pleasant memories to dream about from now on out then. Somehow the scoff and eyeroll he got in response made him happier than if Astarion had sweetly agreed to that. “It’s why you don’t want your shroud, isn’t it?” This time, it was Astarion who remained tightlipped. “You can’t sleep without it. So you can’t dream, can’t relive the nightmares you’ve already lived through.”

“It’s how I’d explain it to a simpleton.” So there was more to it. Gale rubbed at his chin as he tried to figure out the puzzle. The pleasure of solving it was robbed from him as Astarion opened his mouth again. “Dreams and memories can blend, can change. It gets…confusing.”

The way he said ‘confusing’ piqued Gale’s interest. Head cocked, he slotted the pieces of the puzzle together in a different configuration. A picture was starting to form, even if he only had the blurriest of edges to go off for now.

“Did it get confusing earlier today?”

Silently, Astarion nodded, once again unable to meet his gaze.

“Want to tell me about it?”

“It’s not like I have any other choice, do I?” Astarion talked over Gale’s attempt at protest. “As spawn, we had to lure our victims back for Cazador’s assumed consumption. He liked them post-orgasm pleasure drunk. Getting them ‘flavourful’ fell to us through whatever means the victims desired. And sometimes Cazador, Dufay or Godey would also indulge in their own sadistic needs.” He paused for a moment, steeling himself. “It happened so often, it all blends. But dreams are malleable. New memories are always forming, sometimes they meld with things from the past to create a new horror.”

Understanding dawned on Gale. Sort of. Mostly. He understood that he had featured in Astarion’s dream, probably as the perpetrator of the horrors he’d endured. It did lead to questions about how much his physical reaction was a learned response. After all, Gale was all too familiar with the effects fear could have on a man.

“The worst ones I could shrug off,” Astarion continued, voice falling to a whisper. “I’m used to those. But I’ve never had dreams I’d enjoyed before. I don’t know what to do with them.”

Heart in his throat, Gale reassessed the whole conversation once again. This wasn’t Astarion trying to seduce him like he had at their initial meeting. The atmosphere of the room was too vulnerable, too hollow and lost to be anything but genuine. Voice equally low, Gale tried to softly clear his throat before speaking.

“I suppose you think about what you want? There’s no shame in feelings and how the body reacts.” This was not a conversation Gale ever thought he would have, he wasn’t equipped for it. “I’ve had my fair share of feelings.”

Relief flooded Astarion’s expression as he leaned forward with a coy smile, turning the focus of the conversation.

“Oh really?”

“Truly.” Gale gallantly went along with the change. And, given how Astarion had trusted him with such a thing, it only felt right that he give something back in kind. “You may have noticed that, for an archmage, I don’t exactly make much of a habit casting spells, especially not high level ones.”

“You’re not really an archmage, are you?” Astarion’s smile was that of a cat who got the cream.

Hand held up, Gale tried to keep the assumptions at bay.

“Technically, I am. Just as I am a Chosen of Mystra. Except she’s currently doing the equivalent of sitting me in the corner with a dunce’s hat on.”

“Why?”

The curiosity was painfully genuine but lacked all the judgement Gale had been braced for. Rather than immediately reply, he pulled the neck of his robe down to expose the orb in his chest.

“I was foolish, insatiable and lampooned by greed as love and devotion.” The rest of the story came tumbling out easily enough, how he sought to prove his worth to Mystra, thought he’d discovered a lost part of her and instead of success and praise, he had ended up with a piece of Netherese magic lodged in his chest. “So,” he concluded the tale, “I came to Baldur’s Gate while things back home calm down. I mentioned a contact in Waterdeep, right? Halsin’s the main reason I picked here rather than any other place. He gave me purpose when I felt I had none.”

“Are you in love with him now?”

Gale spluttered at the question, completely blindsided by it.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re pardoned. I’m just trying to figure out whether you think ‘love’ is living to serve someone else.”

Snapping the book on his lap closed, Gale pressed his lips into a thin line. He had no good answer to that.

“No. I am not in love with Halsin. And while I love Mystra with my whole being, I no longer think I’m in love with her.” He added, “I don’t know if I ever was.” It was time to move away from the topic. “So, what are we going to do about your sleep? Because you need it.”

Immediately, Astarion’s face also fell into a neutral blank. He delicately placed his own book to the side and adjusted his shirt.

“That’s for me to concern myself about, not you.”

Hands held up in a show of peaceful surrender, Gale nodded. Opposite him, Astarion stood up and gave him a long look down his nose.

“We both have a lot to think about. Don’t stay up too late.”

With that, Astarion turned and stalked out of the room. Gale watched him, opting not to mention how the corner of the shroud was poking out from under the back of his shirt where Astarion had stuffed it. In a way, he was right, they both had a lot to think about. Settling back in his chair, Gale let out a sigh and turned to Tara who gave him a knowing look. Life truly was unfairly complicated.

Chapter 11

Notes:

Discord won't load for me. So I guess here's another chapter. Please know I read all your comments and treasure them and read them repeatedly.

Life went on. Gale hadn’t heard much from the centre since Gnarwa had been by to take the carrier back. It was both a relief and a bother because Gale had no clue when someone could next drop by to check up on Astarion. Since that evening chat, things had been awkwardly smoother between them. Smoother in that Astarion was more likely to seek out Gale’s company and sit with him in silence. More awkward because neither of them had much of an idea of how to coexist with someone who didn’t want something from them. Well, aside from the absolutely ridiculous quantities of blood Gale was procuring from a number of butchers that Astarion consumed at a rate beyond believable. Then again, if he had been starved for centuries, Gale couldn’t really blame him for indulging. If only it would make a bit of difference. Despite all the blood he consumed, Astarion was still gaunt and frail. Any hopes about the blood bringing more colour to his cheeks faded with each new delivery of blood. If Gale didn’t know he was giving the absolute best he could in providing for Astarion, he would have assumed something sinister was afoot.

The letter summoning him for a check-in at the centre was unexpected but also a relief. Hopefully it meant nobody would be turning up at the front door and demanding to inspect the house and make sure Astarion was ‘contained’. The letter had one sentence in bold, underlined and set out in its own line.

Do NOT bring your new companion to this meeting.

Easy enough to do because the meeting was during the day and there was no way Gale was going to subject Astarion to another trip in a sealed box. Some days the memories of that still haunted him. Leaving a note for Astarion, in case he needed him, Gale set out to the centre. This time there was no dingy office to meet it, Gale was taken into one of the bright and airy meeting rooms that he didn’t get to sit in when meeting Astarion. Alas, it was still Gnarwa sitting opposite him.

“Mister Dekarios, how good to see you again! I trust you’re feeling better than when we last met.”

“Yes, thank you. To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?” Gale tried so hard to be friendly, drew on his years as a Chosen and archmage where he met many many people, some of whom he really would have preferred not to.

Leaning forward, Gnarwa gave him a smile that was probably meant to be reassuring and pleasant. Now that he knew more about her, all Gale felt was repulsion.

“We like to check in with our adopters independently. See how things are. Usually we leave more time but yours is an unusual case so we thought it prudent to have such a meeting sooner. And with the view of repeating it a couple more times to make sure everything is going well.”

Taking a deep breath, Gale nodded before replying, “Most sensible. I appreciate your concern but really, it’s been surprisingly smooth sailing. Astarion is kind, funny, whip smart and compassionate.”

“Careful, Mister Dekarios.” The way Gnarwa waggled a finger in mocking warning was grating like nothing else Gale had experienced in a long while. “You must remember that, despite his looks, Astarion is still a creature. A dangerous one at that. His sole purpose is to feed and survive. With no master that he’s bound to, nothing is keeping him in check other than the measure you have in place. No doubt he’s trying to charm you so he can wriggle out of your control and wreak havoc in the city.”

Rage bubbled in Gale’s veins. He had seen time and time again that Astarion was no mindless creature, no beast that followed instinct and instinct alone. But this wasn’t the battle to fight, he couldn’t win here. And even if he did, it wouldn’t get him anywhere.

“I assure you, I-” this hurt to say, “-have him under full control.”

“Wonderful to hear! Would you care to demonstrate this control one evening perhaps?”

“What do you mean?” Something akin to suspicion had Gale leaning back in his chair and watching with a guarded expression.

Hands rubbing together in eager anticipation, Gnarwa was utterly oblivious to his struggle.

“An evening stroll in the lower city. His curfew isn’t until ten so we can spend a couple of hours exploring the monthly night market if you think you can handle it.”

Of course Gale could handle it. Until he realised the ‘it’ in question wasn’t the market but his supposed control over Astarion. The mere notion of it made him sick. He had no doubt that Astarion could handle it, especially with how well fed he has been of late, but the thing that made him internally cringe away from the idea was the other restrictions meted out by the centre. Namely, the muzzle and, knocking Gnarwa, a leash was most probably a necessity too. The mere thought of it made him sick to his stomach.

“It would be our pleasure. When’s the monthly market?”

“Tonight. I will meet you by your home and we can walk there together.”

Talk about short notice. Grimace quickly turned into a smile, Gale nodded along.

“We look forward to it.”

Leaving, Gale couldn’t help but feel like he’d just betrayed Astarion. But it wasn’t like he could refuse or ask to hold off until the next evening market so he could check with Astarion. Whether the centre (or just Gnarwa) was hoping they’d fail or they were purely that sadistic was difficult to tell. Either way, Gale hurried to get back home to try and form a strategy with Astarion.

The return journey felt longer than necessary and Gale tried to calm himself before stepping through the door. He needed to be calm and collected, to reassure Astarion that it was going to be okay. How he was going to convince the man to partake in his humiliation was uncertain and Gale dreaded it. Alas, it had to be done. Steeling himself, Gale knocked on the door, waited a moment then stepped into the darkness his home had become.

“Gale!” His name was screamed as soon as the door shut behind him. “Gale! Please! Help! Gale!”

All thoughts flew from Gale’s mind as he ran towards the sound of Astarion’s voice, pleading with him to help. It surely wasn’t the centre. Gale had been with Gnarwa all this time and they wouldn’t send someone else to check on Astarion while he was alone, would they? Images of the horrors Astarion was being subjected to popped up uninvited and Gale pushed his muscles harder up the stairs, tripping on the last one in his haste. Heedless of the throbbing in his shin, Gale scrambled to burst into the living room. At first glance, nothing seemed wrong. Well, nothing except Astarion pressed into the darkest corner, face tear streaked as he pulled his legs closer to himself, toes slipping and brushing against the edge of the shadow. The whimper of pain and smoke had Gale springing into action. A ‘mage hand’ lifted the curtain back into place as he dropped next to Astarion, gathering him against his chest to bodily protect him from the sun.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“Gale!” Astarion clung to him, heaving in great big breaths as he began to sob. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to die.” A wail of anguish left him. “I don’t want to die!”

“You won’t. You’re safe.”

Of all the things Gale had expected from life, it never once crossed his mind that he’d be cradling the shivering form of a vampire spawn who was legally his responsibility and had come close to a death that was no longer desired. The crying devolved into mumbles of “I’m sorry” repeated over and over again. At a loss, he rocked them much like his mother would when he was young and distraught. The hiccoughing sobs died down relatively quickly but Astarion didn’t move, clinging to Gale and his face hidden against his chest. A whole new kind of awkwardness settled on them. Not sure how to move on, Gale stayed and held Astarion until the mage hand wavered.

“The curtain-” he cleared his throat and tried again, “I need to sort the curtain, I can’t hold it much longer.”

“Of course.” For someone who had just cried their heart out, Astarion sounded far too put together and smooth. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Unfairly graceful, he rose from the floor and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. The muffled scream of “fuck” not thirty seconds later from the direction of his room made Gale jump. However, he had a curtain to fix and Astarion wasn’t screaming for him so it was probably okay. It had to be okay. Gale didn’t have it in him for a repeat so soon after the near tragedy of just now. Balancing on the arm of the sofa, he reached to try and fix the curtain back into place. From his vantage point he could just about see the top of the bookshelves which were usually a magnet for dust. They were pristine. And heaving with jars. Very familiar looking jars. Abandoning the curtain, Gale turned fully to get a proper look. It was a sea of jars, all carefully labelled in his own hand, denoting what creature the blood that filled them had come from. A quick estimate of jars and Gale’s stomach dropped, it was almost every single jar he had procured that had been carefully stashed out of sight. In the low light there was no chance he would have ever spotted them. Not that he had much reason to look up there anyway. No wonder Astarion refused to return any of the jars, they weren’t empty like Gale had assumed. Fuck. One jar in hand (labelled boar), Gale clambered down and headed for Astarion’s room. Knocking, he waited for any kind of response.

The door opened and Astarion’s casual lean against the doorframe was interrupted as his eyes landed on the jar then back at Gale. He was standing ramrod straight, metaphorical hackles raised. Though he didn’t say anything, the way his eyes flickered between Gale and the jar spoke volumes. He was hungry, that was also a certainty and Gale’s heart sank.

“I promised you I’ll provide as much as I can,” Gale said, jar half held out towards Astarion. “But I understand your lack of trust.”

The blood was snatched and Astarion clutched it to his chest, hunched in like a starving animal guarding its meager scraps of food. Hands empty, Gale raised them to try and ease the situation.

“I’m not sure that’s going to be good anymore. The warming charms only keep things fresh for about a week. I think that’s past that.”

Defiance likely had a hand in Astarion wrenching the lid off and taking big gulps of the cool and congealed blood. He kept going until the jar was empty, eyes on Gale throughout the whole process and unblinking. The blood left a rather grim stain over his upper lip and in most other circumstances Gale would have smiled at the very least. Now, he could only stand and stare, unable to find the right words.

“Well.” Silence stretched between them. “Shall I take the jar? I can get it filled again for you.”

It was thrust at him without a word.

“Thank you. Your stash-” at the mention, Astarion stiffened, eyes narrowed, “-I won’t touch it. It’s all yours. And please, if any of them are out of date, don’t drink them, I don’t want you getting sick. But you can keep them in a kitchen cupboard if you’d like. I can’t imagine it is very practical, having to climb up to the top of the shelves.”

Come to think of it, that was probably how the curtain had come down. Gale could almost see it now, Astarion, weak with hunger, slipping as he reached for a jar and catching the curtain to steady himself. It was the only thing that made sense, Gale had been so very thorough in covering all the windows securely, the curtain wouldn’t have fallen by itself.

“Vampires don’t get sick.”

Relieved that Astarion was actually talking again, Gale forgot to moderate himself.

“Even so, I can’t imagine it’s pleasant to consume blood that isn’t fresh. I want to do right by you.”

“It’s better than a fetid rat.” As soon as he said it, Astarion’s jaw clicked shut as he clenched his teeth together. Whether it was because he felt he’d said too much or because he had planned on giving Gale the silent treatment, it was difficult to tell. All the same, Gale was both grateful and horrified.

He cleared his throat before speaking again, “Yes, well, fuck the rehoming centre for treating you so badly. I hate them.” Which reminded him of the meeting. “They seem intent on continuing their awful humiliation. Gnarwa wants us to go to the night market with her.”

The laugh that left Astarion had zero humour in it.

“Of course she does. Let me guess, I need muzzle, manacles, collar, and leash?”

Drooping a little at the casual way Astarion rattled it off, Gale nodded.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not.” That had Gale’s head whipping up. “I haven’t seen the world properly in over two years. It’s time I got reacquainted with it.”

Chapter 12

For someone who had a near death experience not a few hours earlier, Astarion was very put together by the time they were to head to the night market. Any sign of crying was spirited away, his hair was back to its usual style and he was dressed rather well. Though the collar around his neck was a downer on the whole outfit. Gale dreaded adding the manacles and muzzle. To then lead him around on a leash felt perverse. Thankfully Astarion spared him the emotional turmoil of having to secure the items on for him, only one manacle remained for Gale. Before he could do it up, Astarion gave a playful spin.

“Well? How do I look? I feel like a debutant all over again.”

Which only drove home the reminder that Astarion was two hundred and forty something years old. And only thirty-nine of those were spent truly alive and free. Gale was determined to give the freedom back even if he couldn’t do anything about the living part.

“Lovelier than ever.” An idea occurred to him. “Perhaps the night market will have some clothes stalls, see if anything catches your eye.”

“Nothing stands a chance of outshining you.”

Flirting was all well and good but Gale looked away, flustered. He couldn’t, not when he was legally responsible for Astarion and had sworn to make things better. Clearing his throat, he shook his head.

“Gnarwa will be here soon.”

It was all the prompting Astarion needed to present his wrist and the manacle. Securing it felt like a betrayal - something Gale hadn’t ever really experienced before. Because, in his eyes, he hadn’t betrayed Mystra, he’d been trying to prove his devotion, his worth. Even if she disagreed and punished him, he held as firmly to his beliefs as he did to his love for her. Now, as he secured the soft leather around Astarion’s wrist and did the buckle up, Gale thought his whole body was caving in under the weight. Once certain it wasn’t too tight and that he could control his expression, he looked up to meet Astarion’s eyes.

“It shouldn’t be too tight. In an emergency you can slip it.” Reaching up, he gently adjusted the muzzle’s strap. “This too. It’s all for appearance, not functionality, okay? You want to go somewhere, look at something, we go.”

“Darling, Gnarwa might think you care! That I’ve put you under some spell.” Though lilting and teasing, Astarion’s smile showed his fangs in a dangerous glint.

“But I do care,” Gale protested stubbornly. “I think you’ll find I have quite a lot of opinions on Baldur’s Gate’s laws and attitudes. For example, I think it is preposterous that-” A finger pressed against Gale’s lips, muffling his tirade. At least Astarion’s smile was less teeth and more genuine.

“Perhaps this is a tirade best saved for a time when the city doesn’t beckon us, hm?”

A sensible suggestion really. But Gale couldn’t not have the last word.

“To put it short; you’re my equal. No matter what some dumb lawmakers think.”

“Careful, that might have been me in a past life. Did I mention I was a magistrate before all this unpleasantness?”

That did ring a bell and Gale nodded even as he had further opinions spilling from his lips.

“I don’t think magistrates made the law, even back in your day.” Despite being quite certain of that, he resolved to look up whether Astarion had a hand in crafting his own fate in a cruel twist of irony.

The last thing to get Astarion “ready” for their outing was the thick leather leash. Metal had been the recommended material, something that teeth and claws couldn’t tear through but Gale couldn’t stand the thought of all the metal clinking. It would irritate him with his human ears, so he dreaded to think what it would be like for someone like Astarion. Remorsefully, he held up the clip. The way Astarion tipped his head to the side in invitation left the line of his neck exposed and the bite scar clearly visible as it poked out from above the soft, lined leather. It wasn’t just two puncture wounds. Now that Gale could see it properly, he easily saw the outline of incisors between the canines. The bite hadn’t been one for the gentlest of turnings. It was vicious, claiming and Gale could all too easily imagine the agony of it on his own neck.

Leash clipped into place, Gale tried not to fidget with the end that all but burned in his hand. His worrying was quieted as cool hands reached to touch his wrist. On second thought, it only made things worse. Gale should have been the one fighting for Astarion’s freedom, reassuring him that it was all going to be okay. Instead, Astarion was the one calming him. Their eyes met.

“I was promised an outing,” Astarion drawled. “Want to bet I can get someone to spill a drink on Gnarwa?”

Laughter bubbled up in Gale’s throat. As tempting as the idea was, they had to be on their best behaviour.

“Maybe next time. Let’s just survive this first.”

Leash loosely between his fingers, Gale made for the doorway. Despite knowing it was dark outside, he still only cracked the door open and peered out, just in case the sun had decided to change its mind and shine through the night. Maybe it would have been a more welcome sight than Gnarwa waiting at the edge of the property. She smiled far too wide for Gale’s liking.

“Right on time. Let’s see then. I need to make sure you’ve carried out all safety requirements.”

The very image of deferent obedience, Astarion stepped out behind Gale, gaze averted. If Gale could avoid watching, he would have looked away too. As it was, he had to watch as Gnarwa looked over the restraints, brow creased in displeasure.

“Where’s his collar?”

“I swapped it for something less cumbersome.” The truth was, Gale had wanted to melt it down and refused to even entertain the idea of having Astarion wear it; he didn’t trust Gnarwa or anyone else not to use a scroll and hurt Astarion.

“So how do you plan on controlling him?”

“I ask nicely and say please.”

Gnarwa shot him an incredulous look and Gale met her gaze with an icy stare of his own. If Astarion was his in the eyes of the law then he was the one who decided these things, no matter what Gnarwa’s opinions were. Some things never changed and Gnarwa turned to Astarion and clicked her fingers impatiently. Nothing happened and she clicked again, pointing to the ground in front of her.

“Really, you obstinate creature, forgot all your training already?”

Gale was so thankful he had not used the collar Astarion had come with as he watched Gnarwa’s fingers conjure up a Witch’s Bolt but had nothing to channel it into. Even if she had tried, Gale stood in the way, bodily covering Astarion.

“Words, Gnarwa. He’s a thinking and feeling person.”

“Fine. Kneel. Here. Now.”

Obviously Gale wasn’t quite getting through and he stood his ground. However, a cold hand on his shoulder gently guided him aside and Astarion knelt in front of Gnarwa.

“A delight as always, Gnarwa,” he purred with a smirk. “You were my favourite at the centre. Every time I saw you, my stomach turned and I forgot my hunger.”

Gale couldn’t help the snort that erupted and he tried to look disappointed, chidingly shaking his head when Gnarwa shot him a dirty glare. She was satisfied that everything was in order and sent them a nasty smile in turn.

“Let’s see who has the last laugh at the market.”

Much to Gale’s surprise, Lower City was rather heaving. This was a setup for failure, he realised all too quickly, the way Gnarwa was watching Astarion, ready to jump in at the smallest of signs he wasn’t perfectly behaved. Her gaze also made Gale refocus on Astarion who was wide eyed and beaming underneath the muzzle as his head turned every which way to see everything. They weren’t going to fail whatever stupid test this was meant to be, not when he was so busy trying to see so much at once. Gale stepped up beside him.

“We go where you want, any stall, anything you want, it’s yours.”

For the first time, Astarion wasn’t regarding such an offer with suspicion. Instead he gave a goofy, rather toothy smile.

“Your wallet is going to regret that.”

Gale could only grin back at that.

“Ruin me,” he replied in a challenge before remembering Gnarwa was next to them and he sent her a cold smile. “This may have been one of your best ideas.”

It seemed Astarion had truly taken his challenge to heart. The first place they stopped off was at a fabric shop. It wasn’t the kind of place Gale would have frequented by himself, he found it rather boring. But he took one look at Gnarwa, also bored out of her skull, then at Astarion as he eagerly touched various rolls, hummed in pleasure when he found something that pleased him. Barely visible under the muzzle was the crinkle of his nose when a particular roll didn’t live up to expectations. The mound on the counter kept growing, purples, greens, reds, a variety of different shades of black that Gale didn’t even know was possible.

“Surely you’re not going to just let him get away with this?” Gnarwa asked him, trailing after them. The leash was more so Gale wasn’t left behind rather than keep Astarion in check.

Such words rankled Gale and he smiled his least pleasant but still polite smile with a growled “just watch me” before stepping up to Astarion’s side.

“Are you sure this is going to be enough?”

“Darling, I thought you’d never ask!”

The pile quickly doubled in size before Astarion sighed in satisfaction, eyes glittering with joy. As promised, Gale’s wallet was already regretting things but watching Gnarwa stand there like she was chewing a regurgitated lemon made it utterly worth it. They didn’t stop at the fabric shop. Trinkets also looked to be Astarion’s weakness as he pulled them from stall to stall, admiring jewellery and decorative items. Gale couldn’t help but think he was like a peacock coming into full plumage as he fussed over the smallest of things.

Another bag was added to the rather impressive collection Gale was already holding, the leash nothing more than a bracelet around his wrist that just so happened to keep him attached to Astarion. A devilish grin curled Astarion’s lips as he turned to Gale.

“Daddy, can we make one more stop?”

Momentarily frozen, Gale forgot how to breathe, how to blink, he couldn’t even think. His eyes found Gnarwa’s who gave him a knowing smirk. If this was how it was going to be…Gale inhaled sharply and gave a sickeningly sweet smile.

“Anything for you, Princess. Where should we go?”

“Stormshore Tabernacle.” After a beat and a raised eyebrow from Gale he added, “Please.”

“Tell me,” Gnarwa drawled with a smirk, “is it a bit like sinking your dick into an understuffed sausage skin fresh from the larder?”

Instead of replying, Gale chose the moral high ground and ignored the crude question. But he wasn’t so high up that he didn’t go at a brisk pace, knowing Astarion could keep up but it would cause Gnarwa issues.

Hot on their heels, Gnarwa was obviously trying to say something but Gale valiantly ignored her. At the door, they stopped and finally, after much huffing and panting, she managed to gasp out “Just what god would listen to an abomination like you?”

Astarion looked up at her from where he’d been rummaging through the various bags. He straightened up and pocketed something too quickly for any eye to actually identify the object.

“Just because they don’t listen doesn’t mean I’m uncouth and can’t give thanks.” Haughtily, he sniffed but there was no missing the flinch as Gale reached up. He only unclipped the leash but Gnarwa had seen the reaction already and she gave Gale an approving look that morphed into a scowl as she realised the leash was off. A hand held up towards her face silenced her.

“Princess, be good for Daddy and come straight back. But your worship is your own private matter. Don’t let me down.”

“Thank you, Daddy!”

Astarion blew a kiss at him and sauntered inside while Gale crossed his arms over his chest the best he could with all the bags he was carrying. He was almost daring Gnarwa to say something, anything. Yes, the leash had come off but even Gnarwa had to recognise the sacred act of thanking a divinity. Quicker than expected, Astarion returned and even grabbed the leash to clip onto his collar.

“Well?” Gnarwa butted in. “What god did you pester?”

Eyes crinkling with mirth, Astarion tipped his head to the side as he regarded her. Eventually, he deigned to reply.

“Lathander.”

“God of Light?” Throwing her head back, Gnarwa laughed, heedless of the fact Gale wasn’t joining in. “A vampire spawn that pays his respect to the god of light. You really can’t make it up.”

Mouth pressed into a thin line, Gale waited for her performative mirth to be over before clearing his throat pointedly.

“When you’re done,” he muttered to get her attention. “I think this outing has been a success. If you’re done tormenting us with your presence, I would like to head home.”

“Fine. Fine. Off you pop.” Gnarwa waved them off. “You’ve proven your point, Dekarios. I’ll make a note on your file that the adoption was a success. Get yourselves home. I’m headed in the opposite direction.”

They were left alone, just like that. Gale stayed and watched her disappear into the crowd before visibly deflating. He nodded a head towards a dark alley next to them. Curiosity had Astarion following along silently. For all there was to say, they had nothing to actually speak about. Gale worked silently as he unbuckled the manacles, eased off the muzzle, unclipped the leash and finally took the collar off Astarion. Now, rather than owner and exotic pet, they looked like equals.

“I’m not sure if the evening is quite over yet. How about a wander?”

“An excellent idea. I want to revisit some old haunts!”

The old haunts turned out to be seedier areas of Baldur’s Gate, along the docks where mist rolled in off the water. Gale didn’t know the significance of the place but given that Astarion had wanted to go there, he was happy to follow along. The only thing he regretted was not dropping the bags off at home before heading out again. He’d bear that in mind next time.

“Lovely evening,” a hoarse voice called out. “It would be a shame if it turned ugly.”

Hands all but tied up by the bags, Gale turned to watch as a rather unpleasant fellow approached them.

“It would be a shame indeed,” he replied, trying to shift the bags around so he could try and prepare to cast a spell. A cold hand on his shoulder stopped him and a new idea formed in his mind.

Their robber was oblivious to his mind’s creativity and brazenly got closer, eyes on the bags.

“Hand those over, sweetheart. And your wallet.” Eyes turned to Astarion. “You too, pretty thing.”

“Astarion?” Gale asked as he slowly peeled off one bag at a time from his bundles. “I don’t suppose you’re still peckish, are you?”

“I’m positively ravenous,” came the reply.

Stepping back, Gale made room for a better angle of attack. He nodded to Astarion.

“Enjoy your meal.”

The robber’s scream was cut short and Gale stood, mesmerised as Astarion sank his fangs into a forcefully bared neck. Gulp after gulp, he drank, gracefully sinking to the ground as the man in his arms feebly tried to shove him off even as his knees gave out. Watching him lick the last few drops of blood from his neck, Gale had to wonder why he’d never sought out such a sight before. It was compelling to say the least. Especially when Astarion knelt up, gave a hiccoughing burp and giggled, head tipped back and eyes glazed as he stared up at the sky.

“Good?” Gale asked.

Darkened eyes turned to him, lips stained red that was black in the low light. Surely it should have been frightening but Gale could only feel a stirring of attraction and arousal.

“Darling, you have no idea.”

The usual grace was gone from Astarion’s limbs as he got up again, lurching and stumbling as though his world was spinning. Gale’s eyes widened.

“Are you…Astarion, are you drunk?”

“As a skunk!” Another laugh and Astarion slung an arm around Gale’s shoulders. “The blood of a thinking creature. It’s miraculous!”

Rather than mull over the idea that this might have been Astarion’s first human meal, Gale chose to focus on a much more imminent issue. They needed to get home and do that without anyone stopping them. It was easier said than done, especially as Astarion seemed intent on plastering himself against Gale the whole way, swaying and veering off in any which direction his nose happened to point in. Finally, they managed to get home without any major incidents and Gale closed the door behind them. Immediately, a body was pressing him against the wood and a mouth nosed along his jaw, sharp teeth nipping without drawing blood. A leg pressed between his and Astarion moaned as his hard cock brushed against Gale’s.

“You’re so hot.”

“Thank you?” Gale tried to ignore how his body was reacting to the touch and closeness. His own isolation and attraction needed to be shoved to one side so he could get out of Astarion’s drunken attempts.

“No!” Once again, Astarion was laughing, face creased into a never before seen happy smile. “I mean, yes. But no. You’re good looking. But you’re also hot.”

Lips found Gale’s and with zero finesse a tongue probed against them. Alas, Gale was just a man and he was weak when it came to denying himself. Or Astarion. He allowed the cool tongue to press against his teeth. The coppery taste reminded him of the blood Astarion had drunk and, rather than recoil in disgust, Gale licked against the tongue, eager for more. The bags finally fell from his hands and he wrapped freshly freed arms around a slender body as sense struck him.

“Wait. Astarion. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I know.” Foreheads tipped together, Astarion smiled wide and played with Gale’s shirt. “But I want to. And so do you.”

“Yes.”

“Exactly. Don’t deny me. Just keep saying yes.”

Astarion kissed him again and Gale’s resolve buckled. He didn’t want to say no, he didn’t want to turn Astarion down. An idea lit up his brain, a way to not take advantage of Astarion but also not reject him.

“Let me blow you,” he muttered between kisses.

Eyes wide, Astarion pulled back to stare at him with disbelief and joy.

“Oh! Yes! I want those lips wrapped around me.”

And Gale was all too happy to oblige. He spun them gently, indulgently pressing Astarion against the door as he let out a little whoop and swayed dizzily.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured and pressed a kiss to the tip of Astarion’s nose, his cheek then his lips. Sinking to his knees felt right. This was the only kind of worship he truly excelled at. Trousers were easy to undo, Astarion’s cock was eager for freedom and stood rigid with stolen blood. Wasting no time, Gale licked over the head, wetting it thoroughly before wrapping his lips around it and sinking lower, cheeks hollowed. Above him, Astarion cursed, head thrown back. Fingers tangled in his hair and Gale moaned appreciatively. Setting a steady pace, he bobbed his head, lavishing his whole attention on Astarion. Judging by the sounds he drew from him, he wasn’t doing too bad at all. As if hearing his thoughts, Astarion wailed, hips pressing up and driving his cock deeper, legs quivering. His hand tightened in Gale’s hair, dragging him lower. Eager to please, Gale allowed himself to be used as needed, desperate to give Astarion the pleasure he sought.

It didn’t take long before Astarion’s cock was pulsing against his tongue and salty, bitter come flooded Gale’s mouth. He swallowed and relished how Astarion mewled, cock twitching. Rather than let him go, Gale licked over his tip gently, teasing out violent aftershocks until he felt Astarion’s legs quiver in danger of giving out. Satisfied with himself, Gale gently tucked the beautiful, pale cock back in place in Astario’s clothes and stood up, smiling.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

“But you-”

“I’m okay. This was about you.”

Astarion looked at him like he’d hung the stared and Gale wished he could have it committed to a painting. He would have put it in his bedroom, a reminder that he could still do good. Leading Astarion to his room, Gale pressed one more kiss to his cheek with a soft “goodnight” before retiring to his own bedroom. The bed welcomed him with its soft mattress and warm duvet. Snuggling down, Gale smiled to himself as he closed his eyes, falling asleep quicker than anticipated.

A paw patting him on the face woke him from deep sleep. Batting it away with a grunt, Gale tried to turn away from the interruption but a flutter of wings and the paw was back, this time with a hint of claws.

“What?” He grumbled and cracked an eye open to glare at Tara.

“I think you’d better come quick, Mr. Dekarios. It’s Astarion.”

Chapter 13

Notes:

World's saddest handjob incoming (pun intended).

Stumbling through his own home in the half dark, after Tara, Gale tried to figure out how this had become his life. When had he gone from living a life of luxury as a Chosen of Mystra, attending events and leading days of devotion with the masses to, well, whatever his life was now. Before, everything had made sense, there was security, he was powerful and people respected him. Gale had nothing to fear. He didn’t have anyone to fear for either. Sure, he’d had responsibilities to his Goddess, to his craft but they were so much more arbitrary and self-imposed. To be responsible for another person was not something he could have ever contemplated as more important than his duties as a Chosen. But never had he rushed around in quite such a frantic way on Mystra’s whims and demands. Nor had he felt so viscerally needed in quite such a way.

Of all the places for Tara to lead him, the bathroom hadn’t even been on his list of possibilities. Hesitant to go in, it took a glare from his tressym to finally step in after a quick knock on the door.

“I’ve been told you might need assistance?”

No answer. The longer the silence went, the more silly Gale felt standing there, eyes averted. Ever so slowly, he looked up. Astarion had his back to him, shoulders slumped and head tipped down as he sat in the tub, completely still. There wasn’t a single ripple in the water which was rather disconcerting.

“Astarion?”

Still nothing. A glance at Tara who gave him a pointedly smug look fortified Gale and he walked closer. Astarion didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge his appearance next to the tub. Crouching down, Gale tried to peer at the pale face, only to find downturned lips and blank eyes staring into the water. For all appearances, Astarion might as well have been dead with how unresponsive he was.

“Astarion?” Gale tried again but didn’t even get a blink. “Come on, talk to me.”

Almost too terrified of what might happen, Gale reached out to give a cold shoulder a squeeze. He half expected Astarion’s body to lifelessly topple over. Instead he got even more nothing. However, he couldn’t help but note how cold Astarion was.

“You’re freezing. Let me warm things up a bit, this can’t be comfortable.”

“The water was warm four hours ago,” Tara piped up as she fluttered to perch on the edge of the tub precariously, a wing snapping out to keep balance and ever so accidentally knocking a bottle into the water. Automatically, Gale reached to grab it out, brushing past Astarion’s foot which twitched at the contact. At least there was some kind of response. But the water was as icy cold as Astarion and that just wasn’t going to do. They’d address the four hours in the water thing later, if at all. A long soak was no bad thing if it was taken for leisure.

One quick cantrip set the fire gently going to warm up the water again and Gale tried to figure out just what to do now. He glared as Tara knocked another bottle into the water, knowing full well this wasn’t an accident either, no matter how much she pretended it was. Reaching in, he was more careful this time, avoiding even brushing against Astarion. The harsh “don’t touch me” from their first meeting played loudly in his mind and Gale regretted the hand on the shoulder and the accidental brushing against the foot. All he could do was try and be better. Perhaps most concerning was how Astarion hadn’t snapped at him for the touch.

Thankfully the water warmed quickly. When Gale checked it, it was tepid which was a step better than the cold it had been. In all the worrying of what was going on, it hadn’t crossed his mind that maybe Astarion wanted it cold. Then again, Tara had said it was warm four hours ago.

“Astarion?” he tried again.

Like a statue creaking into life, Astarion’s head slowly turned. Hollow, haunted eyes stared through Gale before focusing momentarily, drifting away again as though it was too painful to even perceive him. At least it was progress, definitely better than sitting totally unresponsive in the bath.

“What happened?”

Once again, Astarion’s focus was back on him and it was worse. Bleeding didn’t have to be physical for it to be seen and he could find ample evidence of hurt.

“Should it always feel like that?”

Nothing more than a hoarse whisper but Astarion was finally talking and Gale tried to find a bit of relief in that. If only he could make sense of the actual question. Was Astarion asking about baths? Getting a blowjob? Having a full stomach? At a loss, Gale offered a crooked smile.

“What does?”

“An orgasm.”

Ah. While narrowing down the topics, Gale still wasn’t quite sure of the answer so he pressed a little, “How did it feel?”

“Good.”

The world stopped. Gale forgot how to breathe as he stared dumbly at Astarion. Good?! Of course that’s what an orgasm should be! How else could it possibly feel?

“Yes? I mean, it should always feel good.”

A soft “oh” and Astarion’s eyes returned to the water as he took that in. Gale couldn’t help his own curiosity.

“How does it usually feel for you?”

He could have sworn Astarion’s ears were drooping with the weight of his sadness. Just when he thought things couldn’t get much worse, he was gifted an answer that had never seemed possible in his world before.

“Like a chore. Sometimes painful. It was never mine.”

“I can’t put into words how horrendous that is. I am so sorry.”

“But yesterday-” Astarion cut himself off and flexed his toes in the now warm water. “And I tried again, by myself. And all I could think of was the past. It didn’t feel good.”

The first thing that crossed Gale’s mind was that they needed to change the bath water pronto, quickly followed by the realisation that he’d stuck his arm into the dirtied water to retrieve the bottles. He was going to be having firm words with Tara as soon as feasible. Before anything could be done, Astarion pinned him with a desperate stare.

“You made it feel good. Can we do it again? Please?”

Eyes widening, Gale leaned back, only to have Astarion clambering out of the bath, sopping wet as he climbed into his lap, hands fisting into Gale’s shirt..

“Show me. Please. I want to feel good again.”

“I don’t think we should-”

“Please!”

Lap full of a desperate, dripping vampire spawn, Gale tried to find a graceful way out. He nudged Astarion until he wasn’t straddling his legs but settled sidewards, shoulder against his chest and head tucked against his neck.

“Easy, easy,” he murmured as Astarion tried to present himself for a better angle, cock soft. At least he had warmed through from the water and was no longer disturbingly cold.

A water pruned hand took his and with zero finesse put it over Astarion’s cock. He was wonderfully warm, actually. Cock silky soft and Gale couldn’t quite resist the urge to stoke a thumb over it, slipping down to cup his balls.

A mouth wetly pressed against his throat, words barely audible as Astarion whined, “Please, Gale, I need you.”

It was the undoing of any resolve. To be needed was akin to being wanted and Gale couldn’t resist.

“Okay. Right. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. You’ll feel good.”

His hand squeezed lightly, feeling the way Astarion’s balls moved under his skin, a comforting weight in his palm. With his thumb he reached up again to stroke over velvety skin, appreciating how foreskin dragged down with friction. Idly, Gale used three fingers to gently pinch it closed, fascinated by how Astarion’s shaft pushed against them, trying to harden and peek out from under the skin. In a way it was rather cute.

Thankfully the desperation of earlier had given way to pliancy and Gale knew he could do anything to Astarion in that moment. Whether it was trust or learned behaviour, he didn’t want to much think about it and chose to see it as something to treasure instead. Either way, Astarion was pressing desperately into his hand, cock barely half hard but he was already panting and squirming. The arm Gale had at his back snaked around his ribcage and held him tighter, silently urging him to slow down.

“You focus on feeling good, let me do the work,” he murmured into Astarion’s hair and, without thinking, kissed the top of his head. “You’re doing so well.”

Finally he pulled Astarion’s foreskin back and held his cock in his hand, not moving. The one thing Gale had missed about the previous night’s blowjob was being able to talk and tell Astarion how lovely he was. More than lovely.

“You’ve been so strong. Let me take care of you.”

The words had Astarion trying to arch in his hold with a whine caught in his throat. Gale moved his hand with him and allowed his foreskin to lazily roll back over the delightfully pink tip. He had to wonder whether it was such a nice colour because Astarion was finally well fed, oddly he hoped so.

More words were on the tip of his tongue, ready to lavish him with praise. It was only held back as Astarion squirmed insistently, a soft, stuttering plea of “don’t tease” making him rethink his words.

“I won’t. I promise.” To prove his point, Gale began to work his hand up and down, setting a gentle rhythm to settle into. “You deserve so much, I want to give you everything you’ll let me. Whatever you need, I will ransack Elysium itself for you, just say the word.”

“I just want to come.”

“Then you will. Hang on.” With that, Gale pulled his hand away, if only to lick his palm to get it thoroughly slick before hastily returning to his task of bringing Astarion pleasure. “Does that feel better?”

A hum of agreement was all he got in response as Astarion’s face scrunched up in an effort to focus on the sensations. Silently, Gale vowed to make this the best handjob he had ever had the privilege of giving. He didn’t waste any more time, gradually upping the pace and adjusting his grip to move from providing a fist for Astarion’s cock to concentrating on the tip. When the first bead of precome appeared, Gale wished he could lick it off and savour it on his tongue. Instead, he held Astarion close and allowed the drop to smear over the tip of his cock.

As the pleasure mounted, Astarion became more and more taut in his arms, his face buried against the crook of Gale’s neck. Lips mouthed against the skin there and Gale shivered in barely suppressed delight as fangs grazed his throat.

“I wish you could bite and feed as you came,” he rumbled and Astarion moaned, breath cool where he’d left a trail of spit along skin. “When I said you can have anything and everything, I meant it. Even me.”

One arm wormed under his one supporting Astarion’s back and the other was flung over his shoulder as Astarion twisted to cling to him with needy whimpers. Clutched tightly, Gale returned the hold with equal determination and ferocity. For the time being, Astarion was his as much as Gale was Astarion’s.

“That’s it. Take what you need. I’ve got you. Let go and feel good.”

All he could hear were little gasps of “oh” as Astarion finally succumbed to the pleasure on offer. His back bowed, hips torn between pushing up into Gale’s touch and drawing away from how good it felt. When he finally came, his knees knocked together as he tried to curl around Gale.

Rather than let him go, Gale kept going, holding Astarion’s twitching cock fully in his fist once again, enjoying the sensation of come spreading over sensitive shaft. Occasionally he rolled a finger up to tease at the head, just to hear Astarion gasp all over again. Eventually he stopped moving, content to hold Astarion for as long as needed, enjoying the intimacy of cradling his spent cock and resting his cheek in soft, white hair.

Sadly, nothing could last forever and Astarion’s grip around his loosened as he drew back. The gentlest flush dusted his cheeks and Gale was unable to resist as he pressed a chaste kiss to the warmed skin.

“I hope you got what you needed.”

Red eyes watched him for a beat, slightly glazed still from pleasure before Astarion was surging in and kissing him with a desperation Gale had only thought himself capable of. The kiss was only brief, not more than a mash of lips and a few passes of tongue against each other before Gale was pulling away, wanting to reassure Astarion that as appreciated as it was, there was no need to thank him in such a manner. Alas, he was beaten to speaking.

“Did you mean it?”

There were so many things that ‘it’ could be and Gale wasn’t sure what Astarion was referring to. However, he knew that he meant all of what he’d said.

“Of course.”

Another kiss, nothing more than a simple peck before Astarion’s gaze was skittering away. Something was painfully obviously on his mind and Gale was dying to know what it was. He raised an eyebrow in the hopes of prompting Astarion into talking. Thankfully, it worked.

“You didn’t say I’m beautiful, or that I’m your fantasy, or how good I look in your lap.”

“Did you want me to?”

Astarion shook his head, a fang worrying his lower lip. He took a couple of attempts, drawing a breath before his mouth closed again as he tried to find his words.

“I’ve heard all that. I know I look good. But nobody’s looked beyond that before.”

Pride blossomed in Gale’s heart at hearing that. It hadn’t been a conscious decision to not mention how gorgeous Astarion was, that was a given in his mind. But he wasn’t going to turn down the adoring look Astarion stared up at him with. Something about the situation made him smile. They were sat in the bathroom, Astarion slowly getting cooler in his lap, completely naked while Gale was dressed, his hand still holding Astarion’s soft, come coated cock. Gale didn’t think anything could jolt him out of the moment. In five short words he was proven wrong.

“I think I love you."

Chapter 14

Mouth suddenly dry, Gale had no way of disguising how his heart all but skipped a beat at heart those coveted words. He was loved. The relief that flooded him was palpable as he wrapped arms around Astarion to hold him. This was meant to be Astarion’s moment of reassurance and post-orgasm basking but Gale couldn’t help how he was the one swimming in the heady feeling of bliss. After everything with Mystra, he didn’t think anyone could ever love him, assuming anyone had in the first place. But Astarion was living proof that he could be loved. Well, undead proof but that was just the semantics.

“I-” The words got caught in a disbelieving huff in the back of his throat. “I love you too.”

They stared at each other mutely, Gale half smiling while Astarion was wide eyed. Neither of them moved for fear of getting it wrong.

“Isn’t this usually where people kiss?” Astarion asked in the end, voice quiet and face carefully blank in a way that had Gale frowning.

“I guess so?” He moved to rub the back of his neck but thought better of it when he remembered it was covered in cold come. Trying his hardest not to jostle Astarion out of his lap, he dipped it in the bath water before recalling that it was also somewhat soiled. At least he could get the worst of the mess off his fingers and not face Astarion as he spoke. “My last relationship was with a goddess and I first told her I loved her a little after I was eight. Needless to say, we didn’t kiss until much later.”

Something unreadable crossed Astarion’s face as he figured those words out and, in the end, he gave a coy smile.

“I’m no goddess but I can assure you that my name will be the only prayer on your lips from now on.”

Cheeks heating with a blush, Gale huffed softly before clearing his throat, “So, did you actually want a kiss?”

“Why must you ask it so clinically? Aren’t you a man of impulses and passion?”

The smile was gone and Gale’s lips tipped down as his dripping wet hand moved to cover the markings on his chest.

“I have learned my lesson.”

In contrast to his usual vigour, the more they talked, the less Gale actually wanted the proposed kiss. It was becoming too manufactured, an attempt to capture a sliver of normativity in what was admittedly a rather unusual situation. Not to mention that Astarion didn’t exactly seem to be jumping at the chance of a kiss. No, it was probably better to wait until the elation and desire returned. Now they were back at the awkward situation of naked vampire spawn in Gale’s lap, post-orgasm mess.

The cold lips that mashed against Gale’s were absolutely unexpected and he gasped into it, jerking away from the sudden invasion of personal space. All it achieved was a brighter flare of cold pain as soft flesh split under a sharp fang.

“Ow!” He dabbed at the freshly drawn blood while Astrion’s face scrunched up in revulsion. “What was that for?”

“A kiss.” The words were hissed through the most intense look of disgust Gale had ever seen as Astarion poked a tongue against the blood smeared along his bottom lip. “That’s disgusting.” Despite his words, he used tongue to swipe at a little more of it and recoiled. “Do all humans taste like this? Foul. And yet…” He licked against and shuddered, making Gale laugh loudly, splitting the cut open for another bead of blood and Astarion watched it with fascination. One hand darted out to swipe it up with a thumb and he stuck it in his mouth. “Fucking awful,” he grumbled, making Gale laugh more.

As far as declarations of love went, this was definitely the most underwhelming and out of place he’d ever had. Sure, there had been devotees of Mystra who carried a torch for the rather dashing archmage she’d made one of her Chosen. It hadn’t been all that unusual for Gale to receive declarations of adoration and love, all of which he had rather tactfully redirected to Mystra, she was the Mother of Magic and who deserved such devotion, he was nothing more than a vessel of her will. And now he wasn’t even that anymore. Yet Astarion still chose to love him. Had said those very words to Gale. That deserved a little something of sorts. The spell wasn’t anything fancy, a household cantrip more than a proper spell but it was pushing Gale’s limits. At least it made him realise just how exhausted he was, having been pulled from sleep by Tara after an already tiring day. But now they were at least clean. A bit more heat would have been nice but that was out of the question in his current state.

“Can I-?” Astarion gestured to Gale’s face as if his spell had missed a splodge.

When Gale nodded, Astarion leaned in and dragged his tongue over Gale’s lip and stubble. His hiss of revolt was audible but he was undeterred. And against better judgement, Gale let himself be licked clean in raspy, wet drags of tongue. A rather feline “tsk” sounded from the doorway and he glanced over, only to have his cheek be given a lick as Astarion had clearly opted to ignore Tara.

“Mister Dekarios,” she called primly and Gale blushed, ducking away from Astarion who grumbled at him in annoyance, presumably because his stomach churning treat was taken from him.

“Tara!”

Flustered, Gale reached for a towel and draped it over Astarion in an attempt to preserve a shred of modesty. Not that it made much of a difference, his blush spoke far more of their situation than anything else could have. Much to his surprise, Astarion rose to his feet gracefully, towel around his waist and clasped closed in one hand.

“Miss Tara,” he said as he stepped past her with a nod and disappeared out of the room, leaving Gale in the middle of the bathroom, clothes wet and head an absolute mess - not just his hair and saliva covered chin either.

Clearing his throat, Gale stood on tingling legs, not having realised they’d been going numb under Astarion’s weight. Bracing against the tub, he busied himself with letting the water out, watching it form a swirl around the plug. A wing bumping against his calf had him wincing guiltily.

“I know, Tara, I know.”

Even though it was all too clear to both of them that he had no clue.

There was only so much water Gale could watch disappear down the drain before he had to admit he was avoiding everything else. Astarion loved him, he loved Astarion. Surely it should have felt like something more, such feelings were monumental. At the height of his involvement with Mystra, Gale had felt untouchable, like he could take on the world in Mystra’s name and make it bend to her will. In comparison, this thing with Astarion felt…like poking a bruise. It hurt but it felt satisfying on a level that was beyond comprehension. He really hoped it continued to ache because it was proof that it was there, and, unlike a bruise, it wouldn’t fade with time.

If Gale had thought time would help, he was wrong. Nothing had changed. Astarion still spent the days in his room and the nights prowling around the house, drinking jugs of blood. At least he now decanted them into a champagne flute Gale hadn’t even realised he’d had. The comment of “it still doesn’t sparkle like yours” left Gale speechless so he’d silently turned to leave the kitchen and retreated to his side of the sofa in the living room. Which was just ridiculous. He didn’t have a side of the sofa that was his. All of it was his. Moodily, he kicked his feet up and stretched across the cushions just because he could. Not a minute later he was back to sitting as he usually did because it really didn’t feel right. By which he meant it was uncomfortable, it was why he didn’t usually sit like that anyway. He had proven his point which was all that mattered.

Nothing had changed. Yet nothing felt right. It was ridiculous, even Gale could admit that. But there was nothing to do. Not when Astarion seemed so content with everything, which was the most important thing, if Gale really had to prioritise things. They loved each other, so he was going to serve Astarion the best he could. Just like he did with Mystra. Only, this time, Gale was going to make sure he didn’t fall short and be deemed insufficient. This time he was going to get it right.

Most days Gale had a bit of post to sort through. Usually it was junk, please for funding for various projects which was a nice change from the deluge of disillusioned Mystra worshippers expressing their disdain and disappointment in him. Or the few misguided souls who sought to cheer him up or lure him in with promises of appreciating him like he deserved. There was some irony in those messages because Gale was getting exactly what he deserved, Mystra was never wrong. This time there were two letters that stood out. The first one was in a familiar loop of cursive so dated, it was from a whole different era.

My dear boy,

Though you banished yourself to the barbaric settlement of Baldur’s Gate, you are still very much in Mystra’s sights. At her behest, I will be on your doorstep within the next tenday. It would be most welcome to find some cheese and wine of some vintage, Baldurian cuisine has always been for those with a less refined palate and stomach conditioned for hard work.

Until we meet again,
Elminster

Though short, it took Gale an unnaturally long time to read it. Ever since the orb, Elminster had been silent, had nothing to say to Gale despite his many letters to the man he’d grown to consider a father figure. He’d sent letters all but begging for guidance, for help when the orb threatened to consume him whole from the inside. Just like Mystra, Elminster had wanted nothing to do with him. And now he was visiting and at Mystra’s instructions none the less. Gale was going to have to clean the house until it was worthy of being in those interior design magazines his mother was so fond of. Perhaps he should have kept better care of the place, it would have been less hassle to get it ready for a guest of such distinction.

“Is some prince from the outer edges of the Astral Plane leaving his inheritance to you?”

Astarion’s drawl snapped Gale’s attention back to the moment and he smoothed out the letter from where it had creased in his grip.

“We’re going to be having a guest soon. I need to tidy.”

Sprawled on his end of the sofa, Astarion raised an eyebrow. He was the picture perfect definition of lax as he eyed Gale. Only, Gale could see how it was too perfect and calculated. For a moment he was back in the dingy office where he had to meet Astarion over the course of those sessions. It made him recoil.

“Elminster was my mentor and is a Chosen of Mystra’s. A visit from him is not to be taken lightly and he is to be afforded the due care and respect he deserves.”

“Should I worry then?” When Gale shot Astarion a confused look, he was faced with a sigh. “You’ve got your knickers in a twist over his visit, wanting to tidy. I don’t think you tidied when I was delivered.”

“You got blood, a room to call your own, a home.” What Gale didn’t dare say was that Astarion got him. It suddenly didn’t feel like anywhere near enough. “You got reality.”

“And Elminster’s getting what?”

“A dignified stay at someone’s home who has let him down somewhat terribly.”

Gale couldn’t watch Astarion’s reaction and tore his gaze away, missing the narrowing of eyes. As Astarion shifted to rest elbows on his knees for a closer look at Gale, he chanced a glance back up.

“He’s fucked Mystra, hasn’t he?”

“He has been in her grace for a long time.” It was the expected really, Chosen were often granted opportunities of joining their god or goddess for pleasures beyond the mortal realm. Mystra was no different, she was better than most in that she kept her dalliances to monogamous more than other deities tended to.

“Let me get this straight,” Astarion said slowly, face scrunched in a mixture of disgust and horror. “Elminster was your mentor and father figure. Who fucked Mystra. And then you fucked her. I’m not wrong so far, am I?” Rather than wait for a reply, he ploughed on, “You’ve basically been taking Elminster’s sloppy seconds.”

“That’s a disgusting way of putting it!”

“But I’m not wrong.”

“Shut up! No! That’s not how it happened.” No matter how much Gale protested, Astarion’s expression said it all. “We’re dropping this. I have other matters to attend to.”

Thankfully he actually did and it wasn’t even cleaning. Since taking Astarion into his legal care, Gale had been receiving all manner of advertising and requests for sponsorships from the rescue centres across the city. He had ignored them all. This letter though, it was different. It wasn’t run-of-the-mill leaflets with photos of current residents in need of a home. No, this was plain, a letter on headed paper.

Dear Mister Dekarios,

Please forgive the unsolicited nature of this letter but you have come recommended through connections as a last hope. I work at Balduran’s Best Friends, a rescue centre for humanoid companions in Baldur’s Gate. Given your success with what was deemed to be a euthanasia bound case at Couture Companions, I had hoped you may be able to help. We currently have a vampire spawn in our care who has been challenging to house and our centre’s time limits on keeping companions before euthanasia is reaching its end. Perhaps your own spawn would benefit from a companion for when you are out of the house. I have included a brief description and a sketch of Petras, in the hopes of piquing your interest.

Kind regards,
Loz

Gale had been so determined to read the letter and ignore Astarion, he hadn’t noticed that the man was leaning over his shoulder to read.

“No. No way.” Astarion was up and pacing across the rug like a trapped animal. “You are not rehoming fucking Petras.”

“I don’t think I have much of a choice,” Gale replied coldly. “They’ll kill him otherwise.”

“Let them. Anyone else, I’d accept. Fuck it, I even had ideas on how to make them disappear and make money from it too. Gnarwa’s a corrupt fuck, we could have made use of that. But I am not dealing with Petras.”

Torn, Gale looked at the enclosed sketch and wondered how such an innocent and foppish looking man could have enraged Astarion so much with his mere existence. However, his mind was already made up. If he could help it, he wasn’t going to let anyone die because of the draconic Baldurian laws. Not when he could help them, exactly like he helped Astarion. A plan was forming in his mind already. First, he was going to need to talk to Halsin. Perhaps he could do that first, before tidying and worrying about what Elminster was going to say. Irrationally, Gale blamed the weatherman for all of this because, as the idiot was so fond of saying, when it rained it poured.

Chapter 15

Saying yes to adopting Petras was a decision Gale was rapidly regretting, and not just because Astarion was making his displeasure about the whole situation abundantly clear. At least the new centre he was dealing with wasn’t as stringent as Astarion’s one had been. That didn’t mean his one was making things easy though. No, Gnarwa once again darkened Gale’s doorstep with no warning or invitation. On the bright side, Gale had less time to fuss about Elminster’s imminent arrival and what he could possibly want.

“Is this yet another welfare check?” Gale asked by way of greeting, not stepping aside to let Gnarwa in. Playing host to her was not on his list of priorities.

“This would perhaps be best discussed in the privacy of your home, Mister. Dekarios.”

“Very well, if we must. We’ll go to the dining room.” The words were louder than usual, on the verge of being impolite but it was the best way Gale could convey to Astarion that something was amiss.  He had to hope that it was heeded.

Moving through the lamp-lit home, Gale was noticing more and more places that needed attention. Some cobwebs on the architrave, a smudge of mud on the wall at shin height, the runner on the stairs needed straightening out. So many small tasks to deal with before Elminster’s arrival.

They stepped into the dining room and Gale froze, eyes wide. Astarion was sprawled on the table, in nothing but skimpy underwear, languidly twirling a knife before throwing it up. It stuck in the ceiling and joined several others already embedded in the ceiling. If Gale squinted it could have been the outline of half a heart or a mange riddled hedgehog.

“Darling!” Astarion pushed up, swinging his legs as he perched on the edge of the table, pulling a serviette up and tying it around his neck like a bib. “You know I’m not allowed to play with my food.”

Face forced into a polite smile, Gale strained to make his voice sound pleasant behind gritted teeth.

“As you can see, Astarion has found his sense of humour.” Mentally he was cursing Astarion for endangering the whole set up. This was reckless, stupid and unnecessary. Which were actually the exact words Astarion had used to describe Petras. Regardless, Gale had already got word to Halsin, they were hard at work figuring a way to get Petras out as soon as possible. If only Astarion could resist making more of a show and putting more scrutiny on them.

To her credit, Gnarwa didn’t look all that fazed by Astarion’s apparent freedom around the house. Her eyes roved over his outfit (which Gale hadn’t been aware of being something Astarion owned until that moment), a smirk on her lips, eyes tracing the outline of his cock through the tight material.

“It seems you have tamed the beast.”

Any refuting of such a statement by Gale was cut off by a harsh bray of a laugh from Astarion. Lithely, he hopped off the table and sauntered up to Gnarwa.

“I have indeed, don’t let the whole demure act fool you. That man is a powerhouse in bed.” A hissed “Astarion!” from Gale went ignored as Astarion ambled over to him and artfully draped an arm around Gale’s shoulders as he continued, “Don’t worry dear. I won’t judge you for needing more cock in your life. I’m sure Gnarwa understands.”

Spluttering, Gale wanted to throttle Astarion but also laugh at how smoothly he’d insulted Gnarwa. In the end, he gently pushed Astarion away and looked around helplessly for some kind of cover to drape over Astarion in the name of modesty. Alas, there was nothing in sight. Unfortunately, Gnarwa was eyeing Astarion with renewed interest.

“You look like a prime suckling, maybe lay off the dick a bit.” As she spoke, she patted Astarion’s stomach and turned to Gale. “I should hope you’re keeping him to the recommended diet.”

Teeth gritted, Gale nodded, eyes on Astarion who laughed off Gnarwa’s jibe and touch.

“The recommendations are kept in mind,” he replied tightly and tried to get the conversation back on track. “So, what could I do for you?”

“I’ve heard you’re adopting another spawn and I want to see how it goes.” Her eyes slid to Astarion. “They’re rather territorial according to what we know. And, despite questioning, very little is known about them.”

Astraion’s smug smile was chilling and Gale tried not to think much about just what the questioning had entailed. However, that was a conversation to be had another time, when Gnarwa wasn’t perched on a chair in their home and still talking.

“Given how Astarion is still the rescue’s concern, I would like to be present for the arrival of the new spawn.”

“I don’t think-”

“At the moment I’m asking,” came the interruption and Gnarwa had the gall the smile. “But the contract between the rescue and you does stipulate inspections and welfare checks, especially if there are concerns.”

Subdued, Gale knew when a battle wasn’t worth fighting. Instead, he nodded.

“But don’t expect tea and biscuits. I’ll have bigger concerns than playing polite host.” When Gnarwa looked to Astarion, he hastily added, “So will he.”

Clapping once, Gnarwa hopped off the chair.

“Wonderful. I’ll expect to be kept informed of the arrival with plenty of warning so I can be here.” At the door, she turned to eye Gale up. “And, if it goes well, I have a proposition for you, one that would be quite beneficial for us all.”

Dread turned Gale silent and he followed Gnarwa down to the front door. Really, he hadn’t learned the true purpose of her visit and it bugged him. Door open and her hand on the handle, she turned to face him, bathed in sunlight.

“What you have is an effective killing machine. A hungry one. And we’re becoming inundated with cases that cannot be rehomed, it’s not a good look for the rescue. If you adopt them, our rescue can return to claiming its usual success rate. And you’ll have a well fed spawn on the cheap.” Before Gale could protest, Gnarwa pinned him with a glare. “Don’t take me for someone stupid. You’ve been feeding him more than the monthly rat that was stipulated in the contract.”

The door closed and Gale rested his forehead against it, trying to parse what the hell just happened. An obnoxious slurping jolted him from his pity party. Perched in the shadows, Astarion was shrouded in the wearable blanket Gale had gifted him on his arrival, and was loudly sucking out the last dredges of blood from a bottle with a straw.

“You heard all of that?”

“Of course. I burn in sunlight, I don’t go deaf.”

Back pressed against the door, Gale regarded him quietly. He didn’t expect anything beyond a staring match and flinched when Astarion broke and pouted while glaring into the bottom of his empty bottle.

“I won’t kill them,” he said softly, defiant yet hesitant.

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to.”

That at least got him a confused glance. Good. Gale smiled honestly for the first time since Gnarwa arrived.

“I have a plan. But I need to know, are you in?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Affronted, Gale jerked back and smacked his head on the door behind him.

“Yes? Always. You say no and we find a different way. But I think you might like this, it involved theatrics, swindling and profit. Plus a happy ending for all.”

“I am listening.”

As far as plans went, it was rather basic. Gale would adopt the humanoid in need, Gnarwa and her cronies could even watch the ‘fight’ and make bets. The new arrival would ‘die’ and Gale could send them on their merry way to Halsin, no questions asked. As he’d said, it was theatrics, swindling and profit.

Time wasn’t on their side. Before Gale knew it, Balduran’s Best Friends were knocking on the door with a litter between two carriers, draped in heavy fabrics. Petras had arrived. Gnarwa was already in the living room, muttering about standards and coddling but she was easy enough to ignore. Behind her, Astarion did a poor job of not pacing up and down. The litter was brought into the room and set down while Loz made introductions.

“Petras,” she called as she reached for the ties of the fabric, pulling them open. “You’re home.”

The drawing hadn’t been inaccurate as a young man stepped out of the litter. Gale couldn’t help himself as he drew comparisons between Petras and Astarion; how Petras looked less starved, less on edge, more comfortable in himself. If he could, Gale would have throttled Gnarwa and all who came before her.

“Hello Petras,” he greeted with a smile instead and ignored Astarion’s scoff from behind him.

“Ah, you’re my new bloodbag.”

A blur of colour and Petras was crashing backwards onto the ground as Astarion pummeled him. The only similar thing Gale had ever seen before was alley cats tearing at each other in blind fury.

“Hey!” Shouting did nothing. “Stop it!” No response as the two thrashed about on the ground, scrapping as they hissed and spat in rage. Loz was rooted to the spot while Gnarwa had the audacity to laugh while Petras and Astarion tore at each other.

“Aqua pura!” The spell shot from Gale’s hand and a jet of pure water shot at the two on the floor who sprang apart with screeches. Where the water had run over them, it left streaks of red burns behind. It was too late to remember how running water hurt vampires. Chest rising and falling rapidly, Gale looked at the two drenched spawn who were glaring daggers at each other and decided to break the sudden silence. “That was unacceptable.”

“He started it.” Petras pointed at Astarion who bared his teeth with a hiss.

“He is not your-”

“Enough! I don’t care!” Hand raised and ready to cast water again, Gale dared either of them to move. “No fighting. Plain and simple. I will not tolerate it. Got it?”

“But he-”

“No. I don’t care. Now, are we going to have any problems?” Petras was the first to shake his head, gaze averted in submission that Gale didn’t quite believe. Not that Astarion jutting his chin out in defiance was much better, but he could read it better. “Right, thank you. So much for a civil meeting. You have both disgraced yourselves. Can I trust you two to go get dry clothes and a bottle each to help heal?”

“I’m not sharing.” Arms crossed over his chest, Astarion firmly planted his feet shoulder width apart in a show of refusal.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Gale took a deep breath. This wasn’t part of the plan. Then again, Astarion hadn’t been against that, he’d been against Petras specifically.

“Very well. Sort yourself out. Petras, if you’ll come with me, I can show you where things are. I’ve been led to believe you have some possessions to bring with you, I can show you where you can keep them.” Which was a fine moment to remember they still had an audience. “Loz, Gnarwa, if you’ll excuse us. I think you’ve seen I’ve got a handle on these two.”

“If the place burns down, we’ll know why,” Gnarwa replied and stood. “Loz, I’ll show you the way out. These three have some acclimatisation to do.”

Chapter 16

Summary:

Damnit, Petras.

As much as Gale didn’t want to admit it, Astarion was right; Petras was a twat. Perhaps that was a cruel assessment but Gale was so sick and tired of walking into a room with Petras in it, only to be fawned over or eyed up like some foreign delicacy. Things didn’t get easier after his arrival and that first disastrous (re)introduction to Astarion.

“Can I get you anything, cutie?”

Gale closed his eyes before turning to Petras with a strained smile. There was absolutely no way he could ask for peace or for Petras to have at least a little bit of dignity. It wasn’t like he’d get it anyway. Since his arrival, Petras had been nothing but overly helpful. He carried anything Gale tried to move, made meals to the best of his abilities, fluffed up pillows and draped throws over Gale the moment it turned a bit chilly. Gale refused to let him go as far as tucking him into bed at night.

“Just making sure your bed bug doesn’t bite,” Petras had cooed with a wink and left Gale utterly confused.

Now, he was determined to anticipate every one of Gale’s needs, offering him cups of tea, snacks or anything else his heart desired. Somewhere to Gale’s left was the sound of gagging as Astarion made it very clear what he thought of the whole situation.

“That’s very kind of you but no, thank you.”

“I’ll take a jar of goat’s blood!” Astrion piped up.

“Get it yourself, you lazy, bloated swine.”

There was still no love lost between those two. Gale was having serious regrets. Those two were adults, they could sort this out, he wasn’t getting involved. Even when a cushion went sailing over his head to smack into Petras. This was fine. All the same, he pointedly cleared his throat. Halsin could not get back to him quickly enough.

Usually Gale slept rather well. So it was a rarity to wake up with legs so uncomfortable that they began cramping. His confusion was rapidly increased then resolved when the lump at the bottom of his bed shifted. It was too big to be Tara and he’d banned Petras from the bedroom which meant it could only be Astarion, curled up at the bottom of the bed and huddled under his burial shroud. Heart clenching in his chest, Gale contemplated waking him. He stayed his hand, thinking better of it. Astairon rarely slept and even when he did, nightmares often plagued him. Right now, he looked peaceful. So Gale left him, gingerly unfolded himself from the bed, needing to stretch his legs, plus a drink wouldn’t hurt either. With one look back over his shoulder at the sleeping bump at the bottom of his bed, he went to the kitchen. A drink was never going to be enough to ease him back to sleep. Mug of tea in hand, Gale wandered to the living room and settled on the sofa, grabbing a book at random. It didn’t give him the relief he’d hoped, unable to get lost in the words when his mind kept drifting back to Astarion. Near silent footsteps and soft muttering drew his attention.

“I’ll warm us up some blood. You still on a goat kick?” Petras’ voice was uncharacteristically gentle and Gale strained to listen. He could hear the shuffle of bodies settling in the room over, the clunk of a cupboard and Astarion’s quiet “ignis” to get the stove going. This wasn’t a conversation Gale should be privy to but he realised too late. To move now would make things awkward, give away the fact he was there and could hear them. Plus, Gale did want to know what the deal was with those two, the fact that they weren’t at each other’s throats set him on edge. More chair scraping and Petras spoke up again, “Which nightmare was it this time?”

“The usual.”

“Crypt?” Astarion only hummed in agreement and Petras sighed. “That was a weird year. I was convinced I’d be next if I wasn’t on top form.”

“Be glad you didn’t get a turn.”

“And you be glad you missed out on all the threats and whining about how he missed his favourite. None of us pleased him the way you did.”

Stomach tight, Gale listened with his eyes squeezed shut. He really shouldn’t have stayed. It was far too late now.

“But you got your revenge.” Petras actually sounded upbeat. “What was it like, killing him?”

“About as satisfying as sinking your fangs into a half-dead rat.”

“Don’t down play it. You got to stab the bastard and got us all free!”

“He tripped and hit his head, Petras. I got lucky. He was dazed and I could stab him with his own dagger. Look where it got me.”

A soft laugh from Petras was not what Gale expected. He tilted his head to hear better.

“It got you into the lap of luxury. While the remaining 7,000 of us are struggling to exist in the sewers.” Seven thousand?! Gale’s eyes flew open at that, trying to fathom how that was even possible. He knew Dalyria had alluded to a number of spawn living in the sewers but 7,000? That was too many to comprehend. Petras continued, “Seriously though, I haven’t seen you since we left you stabbing that bastard over and over again, screaming and covered in blood. How did you charm that sad sack of a wizard into treating you like an overgrown housecat? You even sleep by his feet.”

Whatever Astarion’s reply was, it was too much of a mumble but Petras laughed brightly.

“Seriously? Does he even know the truth? Thirtyseven stab wounds, Asty! Could have been a one and done deal, you could have escaped with the rest of us. So don’t tell me you didn’t take some sick pleasure in stabbing that bastard.”

“I had to make sure he was dead.”

“We all felt him die, the compulsions snapped. That should have jerked you out of it if you weren’t so crazed. Maybe they were right keep you on such a tight leash. My rescue just wanted a safe home for me, no concerns apparently.”

“How did you even get caught in the first place?” Astarion asked and Gale found himself rather intrigued by that. It had been two years that Astarion had spent languishing in the rescue. Two years where Petras had been free.

“I knocked on the door of the softest rescue I could find. Loz is a pushover for sad eyes and a plea for a safe home.”

There was a thump and a groan, Gale could all too easily imagine Astarion flopping onto the table. The sound of chairs moving and the clinking of empty mugs had him freezing on the sofa, keen not to be detected. Two shadows walked past the door.

“Let’s get you back to your bed. I don’t think Gale needs to contend with your nightmares when he gets back to bed.” As Petras spoke, he looked over his shoulder and made direct eye contact with Gale and grinned. “I dread to think what would happen if you woke up and stabbed him too. If you killed him, I’d get all the inheritance.”

“Fuck off, Petras.”

They were gone and Gale let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. What in the sweet hells was Petras playing at?

Come morning, Gale was none to wiser. He groaned and got out of bed, pondering just why he was going through all this. It would have been so much easier to be miserable and lonely rather than dealing with vampires, the law and emotions. Alas, it was a little too late to be lamenting that. A tea was still steaming on the kitchen counter when he went to get a drink and Petras was casually leaning against the sink, his own warmed cup of blood in his hand. Astarion was nowhere to be seen.

“Gale, my hero, my saviour,” Petras greeted. “I have a question just for you.”

It was too early for this and Gale hadn’t slept well enough, so he hummed in reply, hoping to prompt the question more rapidly.

“Have you ever been in love?”

Of all the questions, that was not one Gale had expected. It hadn’t even been one he fathomed would be asked. His chest ached, whether it was at the memories or the orb, that was up for debate.

“Yes.”

“Cool. Me too, I think. It’s not meant to hurt, is it?”

Something dark welled up behind Gale’s sternum and he fought to not let it show. Instead, he gave Petras a long look, trying to figure out what he was playing at.

“It shouldn’t, no. Love can burn, it can pierce, but it shouldn’t hurt.”

Smug, Petras set his mug to the side and sauntered up to Gale.

“I thought so. Because loving you doesn’t hurt like loving Cazador did.”

Mind screeching to a halt, Gale tried to desperately think of what to say to that. It was too early, he wasn’t awake and he wasn’t equipped to have these kinds of discussions. Petras swayed closer to him, was leaning in and Gale tried to figure out just what was going on and what to say. However, it wasn’t a relief when he was prevented from having to do anything as Petras was bodily hauled away by a very pissed off Astarion.

“You don’t love him!” He growled, getting into Petras’ face. “You can’t love him.”

“I can and I do.” The smile Petras wore was not a happy or kind one but, as he turned to look at Gale, his face morphed into something sad and needy. “I only wanted to tell you how I feel. All I’ve done is be honest.” He looked to Astarion. “Why do you keep hurting me? You attacked me when I arrived, now you’re bullying me. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You don’t love him,” Astarion repeated through gritted teeth. “I love him and he loves me. You’re just jealous and want what’s mine.”

“I also happen to be standing right here.” Finally, Gale found his voice and a good dose of indignation too. “Yes, I love you Astarion, but you can’t jump at everything that you feel threatens our bond.”

Petras sidled away from Astarion with a smug smirk.

“He’s always had such violent tendencies. Honestly, I’m surprised he hasn’t attacked you yet.” A pause and Petras looked between the two of them. “Oh. He already has, hasn’t he?” Watching Gale, he continued, “I’d never hurt you. Astarion’s got a mean streak, even Cazador struggled to keep him under control. I’m surprised the rescue could contain him for so long.”

Next to him, Astarion was visibly shrinking in on himself. A rare fury like no other washed through Gale and he gritted his teeth.

“Petras, I’m going to need you to take your drink and finish it somewhere else.” He could go along with some of what was being said, after all, Astarion was rather mercurial at the best of times. But the moment Petras even alluded to the rescue being anything but cruel, Gale saw red.

“Hey!” Indignation twisted Petras’ voice high. “I’m not the one causing issues here. Astarion’s the one who pushed me around. If anything, I’m the victim here!”

“Get out!”

It didn’t feel good, seeing Petras bolt. But Gale didn’t have it in him to feel bad, not yet. His focus was on Astarion who stared at the ground, unblinking. The question “are you okay?” felt redundant when, no, Astarion very obviously wasn’t okay. But Gale didn’t know what else to say, didn’t think Astarion would welcome touch. So he stood next to him, shoulder to shoulder and waited.

Eventually, Astarion sniffed and in a small voice asked, “Do you still love me?”

“Yes.”

As if Gale could give any other answer. Astarion loved him, he loved Astarion, they’d established that already and Gale was going to stick to it no matter what life threw at them. Any further musings on the matter were cut short by having a sudden armful of vampire spawn.

“Please don’t send me away!” Astarion clutched at him. “I’ll do better. I can behave. I love you!”

“I love you too.” Rather blindsided, Gale tried to figure out what on earth to do. He suddenly wished his mother was there, or even Tara who undoubtedly could comfort better than he did. Instead, he was stuck by himself with no backup or guidance. All he could do was his best, so he tried. “Why don’t I warm you up some blood? Goat’s your favourite, right?”

“How did you know?” Astarion whispered but untangled himself from Gale, wrapping arms around himself defensively. His face shuttered off into something blank as he realised. “You heard. Last night. Did you hear it all?”

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop-”

“But you did!” Head tipped back, a hollow laugh left Astarion. “Fucking Petras. He didn’t care, he wanted you to hear the grizzly details.”

“I already knew most of it.”

“But did you know I killed a man while he was already down?” Lips curling into a snarl, Astarion looked mad and alien as he rounded on Gale. “I could have stabbed him once and walked away before anyone realised. But no, I enjoyed stabbing that bastard so I did it again. And again. And again. The City Watch had to drag me away from the pulp that was left of his body.”

“So?”

Gale wasn’t backing down, wasn’t going to give Astarion whatever twisted satisfaction he was seeking by talking in such grim terms about the vile actions he’d taken in the past.

“So? What do you mean ‘so’?!” Astarion’s arms went wide as he tried to explain, voice rising to something shrill. “I. Killed. I maimed. You should be scared.”

“I’ll be scared when I have reason to be. If I had been there before, I’d have helped you kill Cazador.”

Like wind suddenly dropping from a sail, Astarion deflated, haggard and haunted once the layers had been stripped back. Gale took that as an invitation and stepped closer, pulled him in for a hug, tucking him firmly against his chest.

“I see you,” he murmured. “And I love you.”

Chapter 17

Notes:

So I guess this fic turns 1 year old tomorrow...thanks to everyone who has been reading along for all this time!

Living with vampire spawn meant Gale lost track of day and night all too easily. Now that he was known to the local butchers, they tended to deliver blood rather than make him pick it up. Word was spreading that Gale was ‘the vampire guy’ and was treated accordingly. In a way it made things easier. It also made things harder. Waking hours became more along the lines of what his body fancied rather than structured around the rhythms of society. It also meant he sometimes woke up convinced it was daytime, wandered through the house, getting ready for the day, only to open his front door to find it was pitch black.

Having woken up, Gale blearily shuffled into the kitchen with a yawn. He stopped in the doorway as he took in the sight of Astarion, Petras, Dalyria and a few other faces he didn’t recognise all sat around the table with mugs of blood, staring at him in frozen silence.

“Oh. My apologies.” Blinking a couple of times, Gale backed out of the kitchen and turned, brain still trying to parse what he’d just seen. Turning back, he raised a finger to ask then thought better of it. The doorbell rang and he sighed. “I’ll get that.”

It was still dark outside when he opened the door and came face to face with a human man.

“Can I help you?”

On second glance, the man had red eyes and was shifting nervously from foot to foot, glancing around before smiling tightly at Gale. Another vampire spawn.

“For fuck’s sake, Leon.” Astarion’s voice startled Gale when it came from so close behind him. “Get in then. I told you to come to the balcony on the second floor like the others.”

“This seemed more polite and civilised,” Leon replied and stepped in, offering a hand to Gale. “Good to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Nope. Not doing this. We’re leaving Gale out of this.” Astarion smacked Leon’s hand away before Gale could shake it. “This is a strategy meeting, not a tea party.”

Some things were best left unquestioned and this was very much one of those. Gale pretended not to listen as Leon followed Astarion up the stairs with a mild “so that’s Gale? He’s shorter than I imagined.” Rather than be offended, Gale carefully locked the door again and wondered how many of his so-called siblings Astarion had invited into the house without his knowledge. Dalyria had been a panic decision when he’d been ill and Astarion was worried, that he could live with. Meanwhile, Petras had been Gale’s own doing, wanting to do more good and help where he could. But the others? Gale didn’t even know their names. The part of him that fussed about being a good host was reassured that at least they had an excellent stock of blood to host this…strategy meeting. But a strategy for what?! Gale actually really wanted to know, now that he thought of it so he made his way back to the kitchen.

“Astarion, a word please.”

There were seven of them at the table, Astarion at the head. None of them were smiling. Trying not to be nervous, Gale stepped away as Astarion followed him him out of the room.

“I’m really pleased you’ve got friends over,” he began, trying to reassure. “But next time could you maybe give me a heads up that we have guests? I could have walked into the kitchen naked.”

“But you didn’t.” As he spoke, Astarion pushed up against Gale, pressing him into the wall and stealing a kiss. “Don’t be mad at me? They’re the only family I have.”

“I’m not mad.” It was difficult to talk between kisses, words smeared against coppery lips. “A little warning is all I ask for, okay?”

“Thank you.” A leg slotted between Gale’s legs.

“Are you distracting me?”

“Is it working?”

Shame on Gale but it really was. He hummed low in his throat and tipped his head to the side, inviting Astarion to leave bruising kisses along the vulnerable skin of his neck. The invitation was gleefully accepted and Astarion rumbled happily in his chest as he laid a rather visible claim to Gale.

“Come say hello to them, I’ll come find you once we’re done.”

Fingers linked, Astarion tugged Gale back into the doorway.

“Everyone, this is Gale. Gale, these are my so-called siblings.”

A smattering of greetings and raised hands was the response while Gale stood there trying to smile and ignore the fact he was rather visibly dishevelled. At least his clothes hid the fact he was half hard but his neck was probably already bruised from Astarion’s kisses.

“What’ll you do for your next trick, piss on him to stake your claim?” Petras grumbled, glaring daggers.

“I’ll stake you if you don’t shut your mouth!”

“Boys!” Dalyria slammed a palm against the table. “Gale, it’s nice to see you again and under better circumstances. I believe we’re rather short on time though, would you excuse us please? We have a lot of discuss before sunrise.”

Having been raised to be a good host, Gale nodded and offered a pleasant smile.

“Of course. Please help yourself to anything you need, Astarion will show you where things are. Have a good night.”

It was still night so Gale reasoned he should probably go back to bed. There wasn’t much else he could do, if he was honest with himself. The last thing he wanted was to eavesdrop on what the spawn were getting up to - ignorance was bliss, especially if it came to any kind of probing questions from Gnarwa and her lot. That didn’t mean he wasn’t desperate to know more. In a rare show of denying himself knowledge, Gale stayed in bed, curled up under his duvet. His mind was flirting with the edges of dreams when the foot of the bed dipped, pulling him back to wakefulness. A mumbled “huh” was all he managed as there was a waft of cool air on his feet and the duvet began to wriggle. Someone was climbing up the bed, hidden under the blanket, body cool to the touch. A mop of light curls poked out from where the duvet ended at Gale’s chest.

“Hi.” Astarion said as he popped out from under the cover, bracketing Gale’s body with his.

“I am so glad you’re not Petras.”

“Me too.”

Any further conversation was hampered by Astarion leaning down to kiss Gale, silently begging for affection. Without thought, Gale wrapped arms around him, pulled him down to rest against his chest properly. The chill was oddly comforting, the weight even more so as Astarion relaxed into being held. Soft kisses quickly turned into something more, the tongue against Gale’s lip was gentle yet needy. Even if he’d not already been wanting it, he wouldn’t have hesitated. The coppery tang of freshly drunk blood wasn’t a shock. He’d tasted it before and it was rapidly becoming the flavour of home.

Eventually, they pulled apart, breaths coming short and sharp. Gale couldn’t quite let Astarion go, one hand rested on the small of his back, the other cupped his cheek, a thumb stroking over the soft skin under his eye. Suddenly, sleep couldn’t be further from his mind.

“I assume your meeting was good.”

“Don’t want to talk about it.” Before Gale could push further, Astarion leaned in to kiss him again, keeping him silent. “Don’t want to think about it. Want you. Want to feel good.”

And Gale was more than happy to oblige. Gently, he pulled Astarion back in for a kiss, savouring the softness. He didn’t understand, nor did he need to. All he really cared about was that Astarion was in his bed, asking to be loved. Which reminded him to actually speak.

“Love you.”

Though there was no underlying motive to such a declaration, Gale could still feel the way Astarion momentarily froze. It only made him cradle him closer, kiss his cheek and rub his beard against a soft, pale cheek. He could only grin at the quiet, determined “mine” that Astarion growled.

“All yours, little love.”

The owlish blinks of confusion had Gale chuffing out a small laugh that turned into a proper guffaw as Astarion primly informed him, “I’m not little.”

“You’re right. You’re perfect. Now, I believe someone asked to feel good. What did you have in mind?”

Another moment of hesitation as Astarion pondered. He took a breath, licked his lips, opened then shut his mouth but seemingly couldn’t formulate words. In the end he said, “I didn’t get that far.”

“May I make a suggestion?”

Eyes dark, Gale could barely contain his excitement. Something of it must have shown as Astarion warily eyed him before nodding.

“You want to fuck me?” He asked, jaw tight and face carefully blank.

“I want you to sit on my face.”

A number of emotions flitted over Astarion’s face and Gale tried to catalogue them all; surprise, confusion, intrigue, delight. Despite all that, he still hesitated, didn’t move from where he was hovering over Gale.

“I don’t think I heard you correctly,” Astarion finally admitted, eyes searching Gale’s face. “Because I’m fairly certain you did not just ask-”

“I did. Let me show you how.”

With warm hands, Gale guided Astarion out from under the covers, kicked them off for good measure. It took a bit of manoeuvering but finally Astarion’s knees were brushing against his shoulders as he hovered above Gale, still looking incredulous. The position was perfect for Gale to tug on his hips and pull him down gently, encouraging Astarion through the hesitance. At the first pass of tongue, Astarion was jerking away with a confused squeal.

“That’s…” He didn’t have the words.

“You’ve never had this done before, have you?” Gale guessed. From his position he could just about make out the shake of head that was the reply. “But you’ve done it to others.”

“I’d rather not think about that.”

“Let me help you forget then.”

Easing Astarion back, Gale went slow, licking broad stripes over Astarion’s hole to settle him into the sensation. He couldn’t help himself though, and he pressed a kiss to the soft furl, earning a small gasp. Good. Returning to the gentle swipes of his tongue, Gale settled into the moment, allowing his mind to focus on nothing but Astarion. Slowly, Astarion allowed himself to be tugged lower, urged to push back against his tongue and Gale closed his eyes. He could feel the delicate weight of balls on his chin, each move of his jaw was no doubt rubbing his beard against sensitive skin. The first soft sigh that could almost be a moan was a victory in and of itself. Gale rewarded it with a tight circle of his tongue around Astarion’s rim before nudging to push in. Once again, Astarion’s hips pulled away from him in shock.

“Too much?” Gale asked, hands steadying on Astarion’s thigh.

“Don’t know.”

“Try again, nice and slow.”

With deliberate intent, Gale pulled Astarion back towards him and pressed firmly against his hole. It barely dipped in but he could feel the full body quake it elicited and Astarion was rigid above him, not even breathing. Gale pressed a kiss to a pale cheek to reassure him.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to do it.”

“But you like it.”

It seemed Astarion had remembered he wasn’t the only one in the equation and his hand reached for Gale’s cock, fingers curling around it as he leaned. The position did give Gale a delightful view but he refrained from doing anything more just yet.

“I like making you feel good. I like you riding my face. I like eating you out. That’s all I want right now.”

“But-”

“No. You take your pleasure. Let me worry about mine.”

To emphasise his point, Gale pulled Astarion back and licked a strip from his taint to coccyx. There was no hiding his self-satisfied smile as Astarion relinquished his hold and pressed back into his face. Rewarding it felt important and Gale adjusted his hands to spread firm, pale cheeks, giving soft kitten licks to the exposed skin. He hummed in satisfaction as Astarion pushed into the touch more, seemingly taking his words to heart. Really, Gale couldn’t help but moan as more weight settled on him, Astarion finally taking what was offered. The continued gentle licks, nips and sucks emboldened Astarion, he sat up, one hand braced on Gale’s chest. It didn’t take a genius to guess his other hand was wrapped around his own cock, lazily stroking it in time with the motions of Gale’s tongue. Given how more of his weight was resting on Gale, it was safe to guess he was lost in the moment. Gale’s hands had to shift from encouraging him to holding him up, giving himself space to work. The only hint that Astarion was close was his sudden, harsh gasp and jerk of his hips. Surprisingly cool come covered Gale’s chest and stomach not a moment later. Rather than stop, he continued to gently massage his tongue against Astarion’s hole and behind his balls until the weight lifted away. Shuffling around on rather jellied legs, Astarion peered down at him sheepishly.

“All good?” Gale asked with a smile.

He could see the hesitance in Astarion’s face even as he nodded, lower lip caught on a fang.

“You?”

“Astarion, you asked to feel good. Please stop worrying about me.”

“But you never- Do you not like me like that?”

Determined not to panic or spook Astarion, Gale was slow and deliberate in his motion of sitting up and taking one of Astarion’s hands, laying it over his chest.

“I love you. And I like you. In every sense of the word. But this orb? I can’t risk it. I can’t risk upsetting it with too much excitement. So, as cliched as it is, it’s not you, it’s me.”

He didn’t expected Astarion’s fingers to press against the orb, flexing as though trying to sink into the flesh around it and tear it out. But the next moment there was the typical, coquettish grin on his lips.

“It won’t be an issue for long, I promise.” Gale’s eyes widened at that but Astarion ploughed on, “For now we have bigger worries. You’re covered in come. And I have beard burn on my balls among other places.”

As much as Gale wanted to press the issue, Astarion wasn’t looking to have any of it. So, ever eager to please, Gale allowed their conversation to turn to the more immediate matters. He could help with that too.

“Why don’t we go wipe ourselves down. And I have a cream to help with the discomfort my beard has left you.” His mind was already off with new ideas. “I wonder whether we should mix a bit of blood into it. That might help you heal quicker.”

Linking their hands, he led them out of the bedroom and to the bathroom. It was easier to take care of Astarion and his needs. Personally, Gale hoped he’d be allowed to help apply the cream too; anything to prove his love and devotion.

Chapter 18

Once upon a time, Gale would have found it impossible to forget that Elminster was visiting. Strictly speaking, he hadn't forgotten the looming promise of another house guest but, in the grand scheme of things, the unthinkable had happened; such a visit wasn't the most important thing in Gale's life. To start with, he had Astarion and their budding romance to nurture. Then there was Petras. And the whole unionisation of the vampire spawn or whatever it was they were using his kitchen as headquarters for. Not to mention the letter from Gnarwa which talked about a harpy that was proving difficult to re-home so was being offered for his "consideration" given his apparent knack for working with previously doomed cases. Being given three days to consider whether he'd be willing to take on the harpy felt like too much pressure and Gale wasn't certain what he was actually being asked. On paper it sounded like another adoption. But given what Gnarwa had said…he was less certain about trusting the facts as they were being presented. While lost in all of the 'what if' and 'how/when' questions, Gale didn't have the time to worry about Elminster until the man was actually at the door.

"Gale, my boy, your hubris truly tests the limits."

"Elminster." It was a slight shock that the man stepped into the house without invitation. Gale had spent too much time thinking about vampires and their needs. He offered a smile. "Welcome."

The sounds of thundering footsteps meant Gale reflexively slammed the door shut before any sunlight could catch on delicate, sensitive skin. He could hear the "is he here? Is it him?" as Petras skidded into the hallway and stared at Elminster before turning to look over his shoulder yell up the stairs.

"Astarion! Elminster Yawn is here!"

Yawn?! Gale frowned and even Elminster had a politely pained look of disdain on his face.

"Yawn, young man?" Elminster finally asked.

"Yeah. That's your name, right?"

"It's Aumar."

"What I said. Yawn, like this." With that Petras pretended to yawn, a long, drawn out 'augah' on the exhale then added, "Elminster" in a normal voice.

For a moment Elminster and Petras stared at each other. Mentally shaking himself off, Elminster turned to Gale.

"It is polite to offer visitors refreshments, or have you forgotten that too?"

"This way." The smile on Gale's lips was strained as he ushered Elminster up the stairs. Once only Petras could see him, he scowled heavily and mouthed "behave" like he was scolding an errant child. The innocent smile he got in return held no remorse.

In the kitchen, wine, cheese and an assortment of fruits and nuts were laid on the table as quickly as Gale could manage. He didn't miss the sad look Elminster was watching him with and shame crawled uncomfortably all over his skin. Such a job should have been nothing more than a gesture and a whispered word, magic should have made the task simple. Instead, Gale laboured with his own hands to lay the table and present the offerings from his cupboard. Such a chore wasn't worth spending his limited magic on but knowing that Elminster pitied him for it made it hurt.

"Please, help yourself," he said as he finally settled. "Now, what has brought you all the way to Baldur's Gate?"

It was the moment Astarion stepped into the room. To say Gale did a double-take was putting it gently. His gaze turned to Astarion then his whole head violently snapped in his direction to get a proper look. Where he'd managed to get the outfit from was a mystery but it was sleek, elegant and lethally distracting the way it clung to his frame. Delicately perching on the chair next to Gale, he extended a hand.

"The Sage of Shadowdale," he purred and smiled coyly when his hand was shaken. Satisfied, he turned to Petras. "Brother, please go tell Tara that the hunt is off. Mystra's messenger pigeon is bigger and less feathered than expected."

Surely Gale didn't hear that right. It wasn't like Astarion to insult a guest - Gnarwa was an exception, she deserved it. But Elminster? No, Astarion knew exactly who he was and how much he meant to Gale. Grumbling, Petras got up from his seat, muttering under his breath. At least he did as asked and it left Gale with Astarion and Elminster.

"So, Elminster, what did you come all the way here to see me about?"

"I'm not here to see you, my boy." As he spoke, Elminster stared at Astarion. "My business is with your pet."

"Tara is not a pet! She's my companion and you know that!" Outraged, Gale glared at Elminster who continued to stare down Astarion. "Oh. No! You did not just call Astarion my pet!"

A cold hand rested on his forearm, even as Astarion languidly continued the staring contest with Elminster. "It's okay, darling. I've been called worse, much worse, and it doesn't matter. Only those who feel threatened or are compensating for something feel the need to lash out in such a basic manner. No creativity, no passion. Truly to be pitied if even that."

"But-"

Elminster cut him off with a "my boy" which Astarion snapped at.

"He is not yours nor is he a boy. Address him with the respect he deserves."

Still glaring at Astarion, Elminster said, "Gale, I have no business with you. Your punishment is yours to endure in isolation. However, I have matters to discuss with your vampire spawn."

"Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of Gale." Surprisingly discreetly, Petras slipped back into his chair and Astarion added, "And in front of Petras too."

A beat of silence. Gale felt suitably chastised even as his heart picked up in a panic at the idea that Astarion had caught Mystra's attention. The worry was that he'd be punished purely for associating with Gale. His punishment, as Elminster had said, was his to endure in isolation. With Astarion by his side, it wasn't a lonely sentence. Elminster's lips pressed into a thin line. He nodded once.

"Your activism has been noticed. For the time being, Mystra has redirected prayers sent her way and I am the one listening to and handling them."

"Fine. Fine." Astarion rolled his eyes. "I will no longer pray to Mystra for her downfall."

"Thank you."

"From now on I will be actively involved."

"Astarion!" Gale gawped. "You can't say that!"

"I think you'll find that I just did."

Scandalised, Gale buried his face in his hands, regretting being present for the conversation. At this rate Astarion was going to be cursed or, even worse, killed for his insolence. Such was his despair, he almost missed Elminster's next words.

"Young man-" Elminster stared at Petras with the placid fury of a dog at the end of his tether, "-'thanks babycakes' is not an appropriate way to end a prayer."

"Petras!" Gale was aghast and Astarion beamed proudly, all while Elminster glared flatly at them all. It did nothing to deter the giggles not so subtly bubbling out of Petras and Astarion.

For a few long moments nobody said anything. Astarion lounged comfortably in his chair, all loose limbs and nonchalance. Too relaxed, if Gale was going to give an honest assessment, and he didn't like it one bit. None of the others were quite as obnoxiously relaxed in their seats. Finally, Elminster cleared his throat.

"I am here to make you an offer, Astarion. You have brought many devotees to Mystra's flock and that deserves a reward."

"I have been very clear about what I want. As have my beloved siblings."

Head spinning, Gale tried desperately to keep up but the others might as well have been talking in a whole different language for all that he understood. Phrases he could hear included "co-ordinated prayer attacks" and "vampiric vengeance". Just what in the blue blazes had Astarion been up to? This was madness. Gale wanted to interrupt, to shake sense into the others. Instead, Astarion's outburst started with a bitter laugh.

"Seven thousand pairs of hands coming together in prayer is not the applause of approval Mystra wanted it to be, was it? If she wants reprieve, she needs to own her mistakes."

"You assume to know better than a goddess?" Elminster stood, leaning on the table to tower over Astarion who only rose to meet him, mirroring his posture.

"I know to value and cherish what it mine." He sneered. "And I know how to forgive a mistake made out of passion and devotion."

"You know nothing," Elminster hissed.

"I don't need to know anything to be able to love."

The air was charged, ready to explode and while Gale had all the faith in Astarion's knack for survival, he knew nothing could survive Elminster's wrath. Before he could even fathom a way to diffuse the situation, Petras piped up.

"So, are you going to remove Gale's emotional cock cage or not?"

Tensions dissipated in the blink of an eye as Elminster regarded Petras. Smirking, Astarion rocked back on his heels, arms crossed over his chest. Squinting at him, Gale tried hard to actually see the defensiveness in him rather than imagine it.

"You are being offered release from your vampiric nature and yet you'd forego that in favour of absolving a man of his own hubris?"

Petras shrugged, eyes not leaving Elminster.

"Yeah. Astarion killed Cazador and freed us. We owe him and all he's asked of us is prayers to a goddess to help someone else. A goddess who sounds like a bit of a twat."

"You will show some respect!" Elminster snapped. Unfortunately, neither Astraion nor Petras seemed inclined to listen. Despite himself, Gale kept his mouth shut.

"Or what?" Petras was smirking. "Smiting all 7000 of us is not a good look. You're going to shove orbs of sour magic in us all? Again, not a good look when we all start exploding."

"What Petras is trying to say-" Astarion picked up smoothly, "-is that you're a bit fucked. Is Mystra prepared to besmirch her name all for one man? It's not like she can wait us out either. Vampire spawn don't exactly have an expiration date. How much longer can you last, listening to us pray for the salvation of one human? Aren't you sick and tired already? It's only been a few short tenday that Mystra has tasked you with listening to prayers, isn't it? We haven't even hit peak frenzy."

"Perhaps," Gale finally interjected, "we could all just sit down and have a nice drink. How about it?"

"For you? Anything," Astarion replied and settled back in his chair with a hefty dose of silent pride. He had the gall to shoot Elminster a grin. Through it all, Gale could see hints of who Astarion had been when they first met. A veneer of invulnerability and carelessness that covered a huge pit of terror and lack of control. But that shell was so much thicker now, he was almost convinced it wasn't even a mask. Gale wanted to tear his hair out, trying to figure out what Astarion was playing at and why.

Funnily enough, Elminster didn't stay long after that. He finished his drink in terse silence and Gale felt every second of it weigh heavily on him, just like when he'd been a child and behaved in a way 'unbecoming of someone with his potential'. Staring into his cup, he tried so hard to be everything he was brought up to be; polite, quiet, sitting properly, elbows off the table, a good host. Somehow, he still felt like he'd failed.

"Thank you for the wine, my boy," Elminster said as he stood up. The dangerous flash in Astarion's eyes at the words was impossible to miss. Before anything could happen, Petras butted in.

"Good to meet you, daddy." His eyes went mockingly large. "I mean pappy? No. Grandpappy! My apologies, I really need to remember to respect my elders."

Astarion stood too, his smile anything but pleasant.

"You'll be hearing from me soon, no doubt. I have an offering to make to Mystra - Stormshore is a bit sick of my visits. I suppose one of the new shrines in the sewers will have to do."

At the door, Elminster turned to Gale and sighed.

"You showed such potential. It's a shame you waste it so, in the company of such unrefined company. Mystra wanted better for you. I wanted better for you." He took a deep breath and shook his head. "Your mother would have wanted better for you too."

Chapter 19

"What the fuck was that?!"

Gale rounded on Astarion and Petras the moment he stepped into the kitchen again. His fury was met with the same placidity Elminster's ire faced.

"Negotiation."

The careful way Astarion said the word implied Gale was the simpleton. But Gale wasn't having it. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the two rude bastards sat at his table. Then again, Astarion had easily challenged Elminster, so Gale stood zero hope of getting anywhere. That didn't mean he was any less pissed off or humiliated. Elminster had so casually discarded him, as if the man hadn't been a mentor, a father figure to him when growing up. Hurt bubbled insidiously under his skin.

"That was not 'negotiation'! That was rude, unnecessary and downright dangerous. Have you any idea what he could have done to you?"

Shoving away from the table, Astarion sneered.

"He couldn't have done anything worse than what I've already lived through. He doesn't have the spine for it."

With that, he walked out of the kitchen, back ramrod straight, head held high. All Gale could do was move aside as he swept haughtily past. Left a little helpless, Gale stood around staring at the space Astarion had occupied. In the end, he sank down into one of the chairs and hunched over, head cradled in the crook of his arms. A cold hand patted his shoulder and, for a brief moment, Gale hoped it was Astarion. But it was too heavy, too broad to be his. Instead, he blinked up at Petras awkwardly standing there.

"It's okay, you get used to him."

The absurdity had Gale biting back a bitter laugh. This had nothing to do with getting used to anyone, and everything to do with reality crashing down around him. What the fuck was he even doing in Baldur's Gate? Running from his troubles like a coward. Playing house with a vampire spawn who technically he had power over.

"Petras?" He asked in a moment of weakness. "Am I a bad person?"

Unnervingly, Petras didn't answer straightaway, just tilted his head and regarded Gale. When he eventually spoke, it didn't help at all.

"I know I'm stupid. The others often laughed at me for it. But I wasn't stupid enough to die in all the time Cazador had me. I know how to survive, that's all I've cared about all this time. So I'm here, with you. All I know is that you're my best chance." He drifted towards the doorway and turned back to deliver one last bit of wisdom. "You're not as bad as Cazador, if that helps?"

No it didn't. But Petras left before Gale's face could crumple into devastation. Cazador had set the bar astoundingly low, being better than him was like saying being eviscerated by a gnoll was better than being meat on a bugbear's menu. Allowing himself a moment to wallow, Gale hid his face in the crook of his elbow to block out the candlelight. Despite having lived in darkness since Astarion arrived, sometimes even the soft glow was too much to bear. Maybe vampires had the right idea of living in darkness.

"Mister Dekarios, I'm sorry to interrupt your pity party." Tara hopped up onto the table and curled her tail delicately around her paws. "Is Astarion allowed to be nesting in your wardrobe? You specifically banned me from getting comfortable in there, especially with a good pigeon or mouse as a snack."

As if Gale needed yet more shit. Just what the fuck was Astarion up to now? With a grunt, he pushed away from the table and wiped at his eyes. He hadn't been tearing up, not at all, and Tara was wrong, this wasn't a pity party, it was a fully fledged moment of manly despair. This was as put together as he could be, shoulders heavy with weariness, he slouched as he walked to his bedroom.

At first glance it was empty, nothing was out of place, the wardrobe door was shut. Surely Astarion wasn't in there. Then again, Tara wouldn't lie to him, not about such things. Deciding he's too old and tired for doubting his oldest friend, he walked to the wardrobe and knocked on the door.

"Astarion?"

"Go. Away."

Rude. And also incredibly inconsiderate.

"No. This is my bedroom."

They were at an impasse and Gale was tired, so very tired. Leaning his back against the wardrobe, he slid down, head gently thumping against the wood. In the silence, he could hear the soft sounds of cloth rubbing against cloth and the odd sniffle. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that Astarion's crying, hidden in the wardrobe.

"Please don't wipe your nose on my robes."

"-'m not."

Somehow, Gale didn't believe Astarion but he wasn't going to argue. The robes could always be cleaned, that was probably the least of their concern. What was more important was…actually, Gale didn't know any longer. Maybe Astarion had the right idea. He wiped at his face, smearing away the tears that have escaped.

"This whole thing is a mess. Do you-" he cleared his throat and tried again, "Do you need a hug?"

No reply. Really, Gale should have anticipated that and he took a deep, shaky breath. Next to him the door of the wardrobe popped open. It was as good an invitation as any and he crawled in, closing the door behind him. To say it was cramped was an understatement but Astarion latched onto him, quaking worse than a tiny, wet dog with an attitude that was too big for its body. In turn, Gale clung to him, burying his face in silver curls. They held each other tight in the darkness, the only sound was their quiet crying for a good while. Eventually, Astarion pulled his head back a little and Gale wished he had night vision to see too.

"Are you going to kick me out?"

"No??" Bewildered, Gale sniffed louder than polite, especially in such close proximity.

"But…" Astarion didn't get further, his voice buckled and he shook anew with emotions. All the same, he tried to plough on. "I offended Elminster. I annoyed you."

"You took on a goddess and her Chosen for me. Nobody's ever done that. Not for me."

"You were mad though."

Which was true, Gale had been furious, livid even. The more he thought about it, it wasn't an anger of injustice. No, it was fear. He'd been a Chosen, he knew the power that lurked at Elminster's fingertips, the things Mystra was capable of. And Astarion either didn't know or didn't care when he challenged them. He was brave beyond measure and Gale was touched. More than that, he was floored.

"I don't want to lose you," he whispered into the darkness in the end. "Msytra, Elminster, they could take you away from me and I'd be powerless against them. While I can take on an army of Gnarwas, I am nothing compared to a goddess or her Chosen."

"You were scared? For me?" Cold hands found Gale's cheeks with ease and he was pulled in for a kiss. "I meant what I said. Compared to Cazador, they can't do anything that comes even remotely close. I'll always find my way back to you, no matter what they do."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

More kisses followed, salty from their shared tears. Eventually, they need to emerge from the cramped space of the wardrobe. Gale pushed the door open and had to crawl out as his muscles protested being cooped up for so long. Behind him, Astarion was only mildly more graceful, stooped over to avoid dragging half the clothes out with him. They were both a mess, eyes puffy, faces tear streaked and noses runny. Despite it being absolutely the wrong time for a nap, Gale gazed longingly at the bed.

"Nap?"

He asked with a hopeful look to Astarion who let out a relieved sigh and made a beeline for Gale's bed. Burrowing under the cover, he turned to blink up at Gale, lifting the cover in invitation. Too weak to even contemplate resisting, Gale flopped down and snuggled in close, arms wrapped around Astarion. He let out a soft grunt as a leg landed across his hips. The best way to describe Astarion was like a sun bleached koala bear. Before Gale's mind could venture off to thoughts of soft rectums and wombat's cuboid poops, he pulled his attention back to holding Astarion closer. Face buried back in silvery curls, he took a deep breath. Things were shit. But at least they were determined to stick by each other. He heard a soft "amen" being whispered under Astarion's breath and he stilled.

"Even after all this, you still pray?"

"Until she bucks up her ideas, she will get no rest."

Rather than argue, Gale closed his eyes and hummed.

"Okay. Thank you. Tomorrow, can we talk about the harpy Gnarwa was offering us?"

"Offering you."

Nose wrinkling in distaste, Gale grumbled. "Us. You have a say in this. But I've had an idea. Could you pretend to kill her?"

"Gnarwa?"

"No. The harpy." Rubbing his eye, Gale got his thoughts in order. "I think Gnarwa may have ulterior motives. We 'adopt' the difficult cases, the rescue gets glowing credentials for re-homing the impossible. You get fed. And, if we play our cards right, I think we could profit off this with some bets. Something along the lines of how long a creature lasts against a vampire?"

"You actually want me to kill?"

"Gods no!" Gale kissed the top of Astarion's head. "Just pretend. Then we smuggle the poor sod out of Baldur's Gate with the help of Halsin's network. Think we could make it work? And swindle Gnarwa and her cornies out of some money while we're at it."

He could feel Astarion's grin against his chest.

"Darling, when you put it like that, I don't even want to put up a token resistance. Let's bleed the bitch dry."

 

Chapter 20

The harpy, Marisse, was a surprisingly gentle soul. She had been captured near the docks after trying to fend for herself, her flock had ostracised her following a painful bout of laryngitis that left nodes on her vocal chords. Unable to sing and lure in prey, she had been exiled. Gale felt for her, truly, her plight was one he could almost identify with but at least he could help - assuming she was willing to play along. The tricky part was getting time alone with her before she was due to arrive but Gale asked Gnarwa for a glass of water and thankfully she left, confident that Gale wouldn't do anything stupid.

"I need you to listen very carefully, okay?" Gale's words were rushed as he sat opposite Marisse. "When you get to my place, you'll be in the same room as a vampire spawn." As predicted, Marisse's eyes flew wide with fear. "Don't worry, he won't actually harm you. But you need to play along, pretend to fight him and let him win, okay? He'll need to pretend to bite and drain you, think you can play dead?"

As Marisse nodded, the door opened and Gnarwa returned with the requested glass of water. Wanting to be polite, Gale took a sip and set it aside on the table with a smile.

"I think this meeting went rather splendid, Gnarwa. I'll be happy to take delivery of Marisse in a couple of days. Hopefully I can rely on you for escorting her, you may wish to see her settle in yourself."

Was that a bit too heavy handed? Probably, but Gale didn't care. All that mattered was Gnarwa's knowing, sinister grin. She was onboard, the plan was working. sorting out the date Marisse would arrive was easy enough and Gale returned to his home, ready to continue setting up the basement as the fighting arena for Astarion and anyone they managed to rescue. If only things were as simple as Gale had planned.

"Not good enough!" That was Astarion, haughty as anything and Gale could easily imagine him with his chest puffed out and pulled to his full height as he argued. "You had your chance, you blew it. Almost literally. You know my terms, I'm not budging."

Gale rounded the corner and tried not to panic when faced with Elminster yet again.

"Gale, my-" A sharp throat clearing from Astarion had Elminster's face twisting into a frown as he weakly finished, "-friend."

"Elminster. What brings you back to our humble abode so soon?"

"I bring you word from her. She recognises the steps you've taken towards redemption and has permitted me to grant you a boon."

From just out of Gale's line of sight, Petras piped up. "What the old codger means is that he's going mad from hearing all our prayers. So he's begged his goddess for mercy." He snickers. "Folded like a wet paper towel."

The constipated look on Elminster's face would suggest it's not an altogether inaccurate description of what's happened.

"My-" more furious throat clearing and glaring from Astarion, "-dear friend, I can silence the orb's hunger, that is Mystra's will. Though you'll have to bear the burden of carrying the orb, it will no longer threaten to devour you and everything within its reach if left unsated."

Floored, Gale didn't know what to say. He looked from Elminster to Astarion who had his arms crossed over his chest and was scowling in disdain at the world at large.

"Elminster, I-" clearing his throat, Gale continued, "-that's most generous of Mystra. I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything!" Astarion snapped. "Don't you sare ruin my hard work."

A withering glare was shot in his direction by Elminster but at least nothing more was said. Instead, Gale was beckoned into the room. The spell Elminster cast on him ruffled his hair as it settled but the orb was finally silent and Gale's fingers pressed on it in wonder.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," Astarion cut in before Elminster could say anything. "Now, Aumar, we have an agreement. I'll uphold my end while you and Petras figure out your end. He's at your beck and call as your doddery old knees need."

In a flurry of motion, Petras was ushering Elminster out before Gale even had a chance to comprehend what was going on. He watched, slack jawed until Astarion slipped into his personal space, looking all too satisfied.

"I told you the orb won't be an issue for a lot longer. We're half way to sorted." He leaned in to peck Gale on the nose. "You're welcome."

The most unintelligent "huh?" came out of Gale in response. He tried to wrap his brain around what had happened but nothing was being processed. All he could think of was how the orb was silent, it wasn't hurting. Gale's shoulders dropped with relief.

"Wait. Where did Petras go?" It was broad daylight, he can't have made it out of the tower.

"He's running an errand with Elminster. Don't worry, he'll be back. And he won't be causing you any trouble."

Those were not the most reassuring words Gale had ever heard. He also wasn't 100% certain that Astarion meant Petras was the one who wouldn't be causing him any trouble.

"You didn't just send out Petras to try and assassinate Elminster, did you?"

Laughter was his first reply before Astarion bumped their shoulders together.

"Tempting as it may be, the old fart still has some use to us. So no, don't worry."

Which was exactly why Gale was worried. Oddly, it wasn't the fact that Petras might try and kill Elminster that had him on edge, it was what Elminster would do to Petras when he inevitably failed. Which wasn't a reflection of Petras' skills. Well. Not entirely. Elminster was a formidable wizard and his appearance was nothing more than a charade. If push came to shove, Elminster could be sprightly. Gale's attention was brought back to Astarion when he spoke up again.

"Now, I do believe we need to talk about the finer details of this harpy fight. I have had some excellent ideas but you'll need to help me with some makeup and making a few bags of blood."

Really, it shouldn't have been a surprise that Astarion had a flair for dramatics. At his insistence, the basement was split into two by a clear barrier. One half was the fighting rink while the other was set up as a leisurely viewing area. He even insisted on there being red, crushed velvet covered couches and a few tables for fruits and drinks. The other side was more gladiatorial, weapons decorated the walls, a cage was carved into a nook from which Astarion would emerge as the crazed, wild vampire on the hunt. If Gale was being honest, it was the perfect set-up, much more convincing than anything he could have ever cooked up.

By the time Gnarwa arrives with a restrained Marisse and a couple of guards in tow, everything was ready. Gale ushered them down into the basement and opened a gap in the barrier for Marisse to step through. Following her under the guise of taking the cuffs off, he murmured, "Remember, you're safe, it's all an act."

"What are you whispering?" Gnarwa jeered as she plucked some grapes from the bowl and settled onto a sofa.

"That I expect a good show. I believe we have some odds to discuss. House says 30 seconds before victory for the spawn. Any counters?"

A cruel laugh burst from Gnarwa.

"Thirty seconds? I'll wager five gold on ten seconds. That harpy is pathetic."

"A minute. Spawn wins but the harpy gets a good bit of damage in," one of the guards butted in, getting ten gold out from a purse.

Gale turned his eyes to the second guard who was watching Marisse as she turned, taking in her surroundings.

"Five minutes. The spawn likes to play with his food."

Another five gold was placed on the table. With all bets placed, there was no need to linger. Gale murmured the spell for the door to Astarion's cage to open, feeling no small amount of thrill at being able to cast a spell without concerns for exhaustion. Sure, it was a low level spell but it was better than the paltry cantrips and limited amount of magic he could use before. Thoughts of that evaporated from his mind as Astarion burst forth from the cell. Marisse shrieked and clocked him across the face, a spray of blood arced through the air as Astarion crashed to the side. Growling, he hunkered low and snarled at her, teeth bared. On the sofa, Gnarwa clapped in delight. Behind her, Gale's hands gripped the back of the sofa as he watched, barely able to breathe. The next attack from Astarion was much more calculated, he feinted to the right before swooping under Marisse's and twisting to shove her down, dropping heavily on her back. She turned before he could pin her but Astarion dove down. There was a scream from Marisse, cut short as Astarion snarled and shook her once. Gale could have sworn he heard a "keep still, idiot" in the grumble but it might have been his imagination. In fact, Marisse was lax on the floor, a puddle of blood was seeping from under her, near Astarion's knees but he remained hunched over her, face hidden in her neck.

"Well." Gnarwa broke the sudden silence. "That was entertaining enough. My watch made it 37 seconds."

Plastering an easy smile on his face, Gale turned to his 'guests'.

"House wins this time. Better luck next time."

The way Gnarwa's gleeful expression turned ugly with greed and blood lust was rather horrific, Gale almost lost his smile. Thankfully, he was saved from having to break character as Gnarwa waved him off.

"We might have a minotaur you'd be interested in. Probably not ready for another week or two, need to give it a 'fair chance' and all that." A sly grin played on her lips. "In that time I'm sure I could find a few more like-minded fellows who'd be interested in watching your spawn's prowess in action."

Glancing to Astarion over Marisse's body, Gale swallowed thickly. This was the plan. This was what they wanted. So why did it feel like a betrayal?

"Perfect. I look forward to hearing from you."

He ushered Gnarwa and the guards out. As soon as the door shut, he was running back into the basement, heart in his throat. By the time he made it, Marisse was in one corner of the space and Astarion in the other, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

"Astarion!" With the wave of a hand, the invisible wall disappeared. A good host would have welcomed Marisse but Gale only had eyes for Astarion. He cupped the injured cheek and tilted Astarion's head to see better. The cuts were already healing, nothing a bit of blood wouldn't take care of but Gale still felt awful. "Are you okay?"

"Just dandy."

Words tight and airy meant Astarion was, quite rightfully, pissed off. Desperate to alleviate it, Gale didn't think twice about summoning a 'mage hand' to bring a jar of blood to them. He even opened the jar for Astarion, offering it up with hopeful eyes.

"To help you heal."

Without a word, Astarion plucked the jar from his hand and took a few deep swallows, eyes closed. His cheek healed under Gale's watchful eyes. However, he still looked like he'd licked a sour lemon and was trying to conceal his disgust. It was time to deal with the other half of the issue and Gale turned.

"Marisse. Welcome to our home, I had hoped it would be a less bloody introduction."

Her clothes, feathers and hair were drenched in the blood Astarion had poured from the pouch hidden in his shirt onto the floor as he pretended to feed on her. Arms crossed over her chest, she shivered.

"You call this a welcome?"

"Given the circumstances, I explained the best I could on my visit."

"I didn't think it would be quite so authentic." Tears brimmed in Marisse' eyes. "I thought he was going to kill me!"

A proud mutter of "still got it" from Astarion had Gale rolling his eyes as he looked over his shoulder.

"Of course you've 'still got it', you never lost it in the first place, my terrifying cuddle monster."

Frankly, the hiss he got in response was quite rude. Yet Gale grinned at it rather the recoil in fright. Unfortunately, Marisse wasn't so convinced about Astarion's benevolent tendencies. Gale cleared his throat and turned back to their guest.

"Marisse, Astarion, you've already met each other but I'd like to make it clear that there's no reason to worry about each other."

"I'm not worried about her," Astarion huffed.

Ignoring him, Gale ploughed on, "We'll do a tour of the house shortly, but I figured you both might wish to clean up. Then we'll reconvene in the kitchen. I'll contact Halsin in the meantime. A better future awaits you in Waterdeep, Marisse, I promise."

Chapter 21

After Marisse came Henry, followed by Akthep, Remu'us and several more. It wasn't just Gnarwa who brought him "vampire chow" as those signed over to Gale came to be called. Loz had heard about it, along with a couple of other rescues. Suddenly, Gale was running an illegal betting ring in his basement and raking in more money than he could have ever anticipated. What had started out as a quiet, small thing suddenly had people like Enver Gortash interested. The Flaming Fist turned a blind eye to the comings and goings, probably because it was entertainment for the patriars of Baldur's Gate.

A rare quiet evening where it was just the two of them was interrupted by the front door slamming open.

"We're back!"

"Urgh, Petras." Astarion burrowed more under the blanket and took up as much space on the sofa as possible. "And he's brought company."

Before Gale could do more than set his book aside, Petras waltzed into the room, followed by a much more sombre Elminster. He actually looked weary.

"Please do excuse our unannounced visit, Gale," Elminster said and even Astarion perked up at his tired tone. "We have travelled a long way and were in a hurry to return."

"Elminster, sit down before you fall down, please!"

Ghostly hands floated through the doorway with a goblet of wine and a plate of crackers, cheese, and cold cuts, setting them down on the coffee table by the armchair that Elminster was guided into.

"Thank you, my boy."

Other than glare and pout, Astarion didn't comment on the term for a change. He was too busy trying to make sure Petras didn't sit on the sofa. That left Gale to tend to Elminster who shook his head with a small smile.

"Your mother would be proud of you, looking after an old man who drops in on you with no warning." Elminster took the goblet and drank deeply, sighing once sated.

Unfortunately, Gale's instinctual response was, "Who are you and what have you done with my old friend Elminster?"

The saddest chuckle trickled from Elminster as he stared up at Gale from his chair.

"Over the course of the centuries I have done many things that I've not been proud of. They seemed necessary at the time but, in hindsight there were alternatives and better ways forward. What I'm getting at, Gale is that-"

"He's very sorry and he loves you, there, that's out of the way, give him the thing now!" Petras interrupted, bouncing on his toes in excitement. "Show him, Minny!"

Behind him, Astarion mouthed "Minny?" to Gale who looked equally at a loss. But Elminster didn't have even the air of resigned murder to him. Instead, he nodded in quiet acceptance and rummaged in his robes. And rummaged. And rummaged.

"Don't tell me you lost it!" Petras reached for the pockets but his hands were slapped away before he could dive in and probably get lost in there. Then again, Gale wouldn't put it past him to have already had that happen at least once, if not twice. A triumphant "aha" from Elminster was the only sign that he'd found his target. The next moment a metal crown was on Gale's table and the orb in his chest sang. He reached for the crown but snatched his hand back the last second.

"What is that?!"

"The Crown of Karsus." In Elminster's solemn, reedy voice the words held even more gravity. "Return it to Mystra and she'll remove the orb from you too."

So many questions and Gale didn't have the ability to ask them all at once. It was maddening to have to pick through them one by one and be drip fed the information he wanted all in one hit. Instead of all that though, he watched the crown get snagged by Astarion and spun on nimble fingers like it was a toy.

"Come along, wizard. Stormshore is as good a place as any to get this over with."

Nothing more than a confused and somewhat indignant "what?!" left Gale and he was being ushered out of his own home by none other than Astarion. He was in his comfortable evening clothes, slippers rather than proper shoes and his hair was in a messy half-bun. In short, he wasn't fit for the public, let alone to go to Stormshore Tabernacle for what sounded like making an offering to Mystra. Yet Astarion poked and prodded him towards the place, unrelenting. Curiosity mixed with general fatigue so Gale allowed himself to be paraded across the city and into Stormshore where the cleric gave them a cursory glance and a wave.

"Astarion, it is good to see you again. I see you've brought a friend."

"Vicar Humbletoes, pious as ever, I see."

They got waved off and Gale briefly wonders whether the vicar knew just what Astarion was and whether the truth would mean he was still as jovially welcomed. His musings were cut short as they stopped in front of Mystra's statue. Its base was littered with brooches, trinkets, jewellery and other offerings. So many more than any of the other gods. Astarion and the other spawn had obviously been busy.

"Mystra, you cur! I bring you an olive branch," Astarion announced with zero shame.

The statue glowed blue and Gale felt the tug of the Weave. Habit and hope had him stepping closer and he was yanked in, Astarion half a step behind him. What felt like an eternity yet also only the blink of an eye, they were face to face with Mystra in the Astral Planes.

"Gale of Waterdeep, you're looking well."

In front of him was his goddess. The centre of his purpose, the very reason for his everything, the one who turned her back on him when he loved her too hard and too wrong. Behind him was Astarion. Chaos, complication, a whole spectrum of emotions Gale didn't even know existed and probably the source of more than a few grey hairs.

"Mystra," he replied, uncertain of his standing. "You're as eternal as ever."

"And your loyal companion. The spawn who refused a cure in favour of his love."

"The cumbucket of foolish mortals, we meet at last."

The thing about the Astral Plane was that there's no real sound beyond the soft susurrus of existence and the beating of Gale's own heart. Something sailed past his elbow and mutely clattered by Mystra's feet. The Crown of Karsus. His chest was on fire, the orb silently roared and gnashed it's non-existent teeth as it tried to reclaim the crown and unite with it. Meanwhile, Mystra stared at it as blankly as she used to regard him in moments of passion. There was nothing beyond her beautiful visage, no emotion, no change. She made no move to pick it up and Gale lurched to do it for her. The moment his fingers touched the crown, time stopped. Everything ceased to exist around him, Mystra, Astarion, the Astral Plane. It was no longer a crown in his hands, it was power, it was potential, it was a future he'd never dared imagine before. With the crown and the orb, he could reach far beyond what Mystra offered him, he could be a god.

A hand on his elbow restarted time and he looked up from the crown to look into Astarion's concerned eyes.

"Gale?"

"I could cure you."

"How?"

"I'd be a god. I could do anything. I could cure you."

The sadness that washed over Astarion's face was bitter.

"You could. But so could any of the other gods I had prayed to over the two centuries. Yet none of them did. You won't cure me, I'd just lose you."

"I'd be different. I'd actually do good."

"Like Ariel Manx did?" Astarion scoffed. "I love you Gale but you're painfully human. You'd be no different."

The crown was there, in his hands, power right at his fingertips, all he had to do was put the crown on. His mistake was looking up at Astarion again. Sad, haunted eyes beseeched him. If Gale had been stronger, if he'd had a more hardened heart, he would have resisted. As it was, he was caught between Astarion's pleading gaze and Mystra's passive curiosity. It hit home then, Mystra was waiting to see what he'd do much like how Gale had waited to see which coloured sugar water bees would choose when he offered up a selection to them. The love she held for him was akin to the indulgence humans had for pets. Deep down, he'd already known that, had thought he'd accepted it. But the ragged burn of facing the truth still left him hollow. If he put the crown on, if he became a god…he didn't want to play with mortals, he didn't want to make Astarion a pawn again. Not when Astarion gave up a cure for his vampirism just so Gale had a chance to With shaking hands, he held the crown out to Mystra. As soon as she took it, he turned away, not to Astarion but towards the void of the Astral Plane, ready to leave behind all evidence of his weaknesses and failures.

"Not so fast." Astarion grabbed him by the shoulder, kept him in place even as his eyes glared at Mystra. "We had a deal. He delivered the crown, as promised."

"Gale of Waterdeep." Mystra's voice echoed around them and in his head. "You would forgo godhood for love. You have finally truly found your match."

Turning back to her, Gale stared sadly as he said, "I only ever wanted to be worthy of you, to be your equal."

But not any more. All he wanted now was a better world and a chance at happiness. He liked to think that he was in with a good shot. Mystra raised a hand towards him, palm up and his whole chest lurched. It hurt, burning and clawing at the same time. Gale was certain his sternum was cracking open, skin flayed to shreds as the orb dislodged, tearing free of him. A ball of purple-blue gnawing hunger hurtled towards Mystra, blindingly bright. Gale could barely see it as he sank to his knees, hunched over, Astarion's hand on his back. The last thing he heard was Mystra's voice.

"Be well, Gale Dekarios, Archmage of Waterdeep."

In her own way, Mystra had loved him after all.

Notes:

This chapter almost spawned a side story of Elminster and Petras' adventures. What would their buddy name be: Elmintras or Petminster?