Archive of Our Own

Gale was almost sure his mind was playing games on him. In the same way the human brain tries to make sense and shapes in a room without any source of light, he was surely seeing something that wasn’t there. He blinked and rubbed his eyes until he was seeing stars behind his eyelids, then opened them again only to see the exact same thing before him. With a defeated sigh, he finally accepted what he was seeing.

On the other side of camp, behind all those bodies dancing and walking and talking between them, there they were. Astarion and Helaena, that is. The cunning vampire and their easy-going, half-elf, ranger. All Gale could see from where he was seated was Helaena’s back, he was sure that it was the ranger, her brown hair only recognisable by the moss green streaks in it. The two of them were talking among themselves, whispering in each other's ears, laughing and sharing a bottle of what seemed to be wine. Cheap wine, to be exact, offered by the Harpers after they defeated Ketheric Thorm at last. Which was the reason they decided to throw a party in the first place, inviting everyone that was staying at the Last Light Inn, which included the tieflings, the Harpers and some members of the Flaming Fist. Their makeshift get-together they had planned in the heat of a hard but well-earned fight should seemingly last for a while. Hells, if the wine keeps flowing, maybe even until the sun rises to greet them again.

Even if it wasn’t the first time the rogue and their ranger talked, it was still strange to him nonetheless. Astarion would sometimes snake a slender arm around her shoulders and make Helaena drink from the bottle he was holding in his hand, smiling lazily and giving her those beguiling velvet-red eyes. Helaena had swore to him that she had given her blood to the vampire willingly just one time, just to help him sate his hunger, she had said. Still, Gale couldn’t help but notice the way the spawn’s eyes darted to her neck as she drank, small pupils dilating and shaking from all her gulping. All it would take was one drop. One drop running along her neck would surely cause Astarion to forget the last of his decency, if he ever had any to begin with. To lap it all up like a starving beast. To bite, to quell the need. Just imagining that scene had him shivering in his seat.

Nevertheless, she had promised it, to keep herself out of unnecessary trouble, and that included prancing in between their vampire’s fangs. And yet, she was there, always accepting and taking more than what was granted and biting more than she could chew.

“You know, if you keep sulking, maybe the tadpole will decide to throw a temper tantrum and bite into that brilliant brain of yours. A brilliant mind such as Gale Dekarios, lost to a spoiled little worm… Mystra would not like that, I’d reckon.”

Gale was definitely not sulking. Not at all. What would he be sulking about? But most importantly, how long had Shadowheart sat beside him before saying a word?

“I was starting to feel pity about you, seeing that you’re here on your own, brooding like an angsty teenager, but now I see why. You truly are no fun to be around when Helaena’s not here.”

“Why, thank you Shadowheart, for that nice compliment. I expected no less from the queen of brooding herself.”

“So you are brooding. Interesting…”

“I am not.” He decided finally, turning to face her, catching her trying to hide a small smirk behind the glass of wine she carried. It was half full, but she could notice the ease of knots in her shoulders. She was clearly enjoying herself, if not from teasing Gale, then from the wine and ambience.

“It's just… I don’t want to bore everyone with talks of magic in the midst of a social reunion. Such matters should be reserved for a… Smaller number of people who are also adept with magic.”

He had already done so with Wyll. Ever the gentleman, he had stayed and listened to Gale talk about nonsense for about an hour and a half, nodding and providing commentary along the way, but seemed thankful when Karlach took him aside to star in a play Alfira and Volo had prepared for the younger tieflings, where they reenacted the events of nights passed, how Helaena had formed their little party of misfits, adding more along the way, and how they had now defeated the unkillable paladin.

It had only been a day since they came back to camp from that fight, bloodied and limping, but alive, yet there already were whole stories about their peace-loving ranger and their victory being written. She might not be the brightest or bravest, but it still seemed like her heart was bigger than her chest. Always wanting to save every single animal or person  in need and bending over backwards to do so. Though that has brought them their fair share of troubles, too. He had certainly grown fond of her in the short time that they lived together. When he confessed his condition to everyone, she had been exceptionally understanding with him, except for the part of self-pity and crawling back to Mystra, she had not been happy about that.

“After two months of sharing camp, meals, and adventures with the likes of you, I know when something is bothering the great wizard of Waterdeep. You can tell me, you know, I won't tell a soul. Not even Withers will know.” Shadowheart offered.

Gale let out a sigh he didn’t even know he was holding and answered. “I’m just worried about our dear ranger. That is all there is about my… Current disposition.”

Shadowheart just hummed and started looking in the same direction that Gale was just a few minutes before. He looked back and was met with two piercing red eyes looking back at him that made his hand twitch as if his body wanted to hide from the pale elf’s enthralling gaze. And just as quickly, as if Astarion realized Gale’s heart had started beating faster, the vampire glanced back at Helaena and gave her a genuine smile, one that was for her only; showing the tips of his fangs, a smile that would reach his eyes. It was strange seeing him act like his true real self, or whatever’s left of it, they all had become so accustomed to only ever seeing his masquerade.

“Of course you are concerned about your… How is it that you call each other? Best friend?” If that was a snide remark on her side, he did not acknowledge it. “It’s only natural to worry about someone you care about. Still, it seems like you haven’t learned a thing. Helaena is well-loved by other people too, you’d do well to remind yourself of that.”

She is not only yours to love, wizard.

“You call yourself a cleric, yet you seem to possess the silver tongue of a bard.”

He did not want to admit it, but it was true. Helaena had not shown any interest in anyone romantically. He’d seen how she sweetly and discreetly turned the gallant Wyll down, doing the same with Lae’Zel when she came asking to taste her, and how after defending her from their Gith warrior, Shadowheart now called her kin. He once had even tried to court Helaena, to no avail. The thought of having her as a lover soon fled away when she started confiding in him to cook whatever she gathered for them to eat. Even if it was 12 carrots and a block of cheese, Gale made sure there would always be food on their table as soon as they came back to camp for the day. Gale knew every single one of his troupe would set the world on fire if something happened to her, but it seemed that he was the only one having trouble distinguishing a friendship from something else.

“It seems I’ve hit a nerve with that. Good. I will leave you to keep eating your heart away, but… If you’d allow me to give you some advice” Shadowheart paused for a few seconds, enough for Gale to look back into her eyes, finally allowing her to continue with a motion of his hand. “Perhaps you should find yourself someone to… Connect with. If not for a little rendezvous, just to talk for a while. You needn’t stay here like a guard dog when she truly is fine and safe. She does not need you at her beck and call. I’m sure there are some lads here who’d love to hear about Gale of Waterdeep, the history of magic, and all of that. After everything we have gone through, I think that having some fun is the least we all deserve.”

“I know your advice comes from a good place, and I am thankful for it. Still, I don’t think I need to remind you that before I contracted this orb, back at Blackstaff, I did not lack any-”

“Oh by the gods, shut that mouth of yours and just drink, you need it.” She took the wine bottle that was resting on the table and poured some more into his glass. “Drink and stop staring at them like a sour lover, your gaze is sure to bore holes in her back if you keep doing it.”

As soon as Shadowheart left his side, his little wine sips turned into a less glamorous drinking style. Whether or not it was to gather courage or to prove her wrong, he could not say. He’d never been a drinker, even back in his best days at Blackstaff. He drank a glass, then two, and then when the bottle was empty, he asked for more. He could not remember how much he drank, or how much time had passed until he stood and approached a group of people talking.

Soon enough, he started talking to someone, then another, and then he found himself stuck talking to a doe-eyed half-elf, with curly dirty blonde hair running to a few inches below his shoulders and motley eyes, a mixture of green and gold. By his fine red garments, he surely must have been one of the Fist, but Gale could not remember for the life of him anything about him besides the way he would fix his curls and lick his lips, blinking those eyes back at him, like a fawn caught in a trap. Smooth skin for days, his words as soft as silk wrapped around him like a veil. There was no denying the man was handsome, but Gale was a man with manners, and long past are his days of sleepless nights in the arms of a one-stand lover. But for someone who looks like that, slowly blinking at him with that much adoration, breathing the same air as him, smiling at his japes and nodding like a good boy, he might forget such mundane things. He would give himself a chance he had long consigned to oblivion. He really wasn’t that sure what did him in. Gale wasn’t the seductive type, that much was known, but the blonde seemed entranced by their conversation. Maybe Shadowheart was right, maybe this was all he needed to distract his mind from the battles and encounters to come.

When he decided to go further and touch his hand that was resting on a makeshift table between them, he could not help but notice a shine on it, a golden ring on his index finger. It caught his attention quickly, the way the moon reflected on the little pink opal in its center, and the taste of magic on the tip of his tongue, like cloves and some sweet exotic fruit, with a sour aftertaste. It seemed to be a charm ring possibly tainted with corrupted weave, and it was surely having an effect on him, though he could not recognize if it was the charm part of the ring, or how hungry he had felt after barely touching the ring. He wanted to drink the weave from it like a starved man, and he tried to remember how long it had been since he had consumed an artifact. To be fair, ever since Elminster came around and set a timer on his netherese orb, he had not felt the need to consume another artifact. But it was back now, with a nasty bite and howl, and it ached in his teeth and in his gums.

He could take the man to his tent or a secluded place in the woods, and swipe the ring off of him when they found themselves deep in the throes of their pleasures. And if the blonde man asked for the missing ring, he could feign ignorance. Blame it on the breeze, on the grass, on a little crow with a knack for shiny beautiful things. He could swallow the weave from the ring in a single gulp, and surely that could be enough to sate him. A single crumb of bread that he could break and multiply for himself, make it his sustain. Make it last while he had the opportunity to beg Helaena for more, just like he used to.

Oh Helaena… Would that make me any worse than him in your eyes? Or am I also a crow, an opportunist, a scavenger with a good streak of luck, a hungry beast?

The orb hums in his chest, reminding Gale that wasting time was for naught and that it would never be enough. And mostly, of the fact that he still had dignity and morals to lose if he was caught in his little ruse, he wasn’t willing to give up that. He excused himself from the young man, claiming the hour was late, and he needed some rest. The blonde seemed surprised, then resigned to his fate.

The party was turning into a forte, the fire burning higher than ever, and people were screaming for more wine to come along, the chords of Alfira’s tune and the clinking of bottles and glasses resonating in Gale’s skull. He saw Lae’Zel brawling with a Harper girl who was sorely going to regret challenging her. Thankfully for her opponent, it seemed like there was no real deathly intent in the Githyanki warrior’s grip, just fighting for the fun of it, with Karlach screaming instructions behind her, like a commander battling in Avernus. Helaena was not that far away from them, sitting on a bench near the brawl, laughing without a care in the world and bending over as she did so, lips wet with mead and spit and blushing up to her ears. The Archdruid was beside her, soothing some pains and scratches on his strong arms, perhaps from a previous fight that went unnoticed by Gale, pleading that their usual talk of ducks and bears and hawks now enriched by alcohol will keep the ranger entertained until Gale was done with the bad decision he was about to make. Helaena will surely understand, just as she helped him once, she surely would help him again. Why would he steal from someone when Helaena’s chest was just right there? Filled to the brim with rings she had deemed useless. He only needed one.

The closer he got to Helaena’s travelling chest and her little makeshift large piece of cloth that doubled as a tent, the sounds of the party seemed to lessen. The ranger had won the best space for setting camp, far away from the fire and other tents, nearing the edge of the clearing. Only the Gods knew whatever was happening beyond the first lines of trees, any uncouth sound being muffled by the ruckus the others were making. He entered the tent, trying to seem more inebriated than he was. They had anticipated that someone with ill intent could take advantage of the situation and try to steal from her, and he had set that same lock just a few hours ago. He lazily undid the spell with an ease that comes from years of practice. The hardest part, the real lock, that is, he left for last. He really wasn’t that great at getting his nose in things he should not be. The ranger would obviously give such a work to Astarion, whose hands would work on it in such a meticulous manner it reminded him of controlling the weave, the pick making unknown sigils in the air, biting his lips absentmindedly if the lock proved harder than expected. Damned be that rogue, he could do it all by himself. Surely it couldn’t be that hard. He kneeled on the ground and got to work.

The first pick broke away very early into his attempted break in. He thought it easier than it actually was, but covered by the mantle of the night he could barely see the lock. It took him a while to get the broken piece out, but as soon as he did, he was trying again. He was so concentrated he did not notice a presence behind him until it was too late to escape.

“Well well well… Who would've thought? As soon as I saw a figure inside the tent, I thought about anyone else but you. A stranger who knew no better, a robber taking advantage of the mess they are creating outside. Anyone but you. You, stealing from our dear ranger?”

His voice, twisting and turning like a snake made him recoil from his kneeling position to look at the pale elf. The red velvet of his eyes was barely visible due to the darkness of the tent engorging his pupils. The vampire reached for him and he heard steel being unsheathed, he closed his eyes thinking this would be his end. Getting confused for a robber by his own camp-mate. There was now a dagger sliding on his shoulder, without really hurting him, but still applying enough pressure to remind him it was there. Gale tried to look at his face in vain, barely being able to see beyond his fingers. His heartbeat picked up due to the surprise. He heard him snickering, probably amused by his predicament.

“It seems my unconventional tricks to get into things I'm not supposed to be in have turned you into the path of… Unrighteousness, Gale of Waterdeep.”

“Whatever I was trying to do is none of your business, Astarion. Whatever you think is going on here, it’s not what it seems.”

“You hurt me with your sharp words, mage.” He lamented, maneuvering the dagger near his clavicle and around his shoulders without getting it caught in the fabric of his clothes. “I may be dead, but I'm not blind. I saw you coming here, and I could not help but wonder what our little mage has been up to, frolicking around like a butterfly in spring around Hel’s chest. I had to see it for myself. I could never imagine the great mage of Waterdeep being so desperate for a little magic trinket to strike this low.”

“You could not care any less if I debase myself this low, for you have gone even lower. I repeat, this is none of your business”

His words were laced with poison, he already knew that. He could not help it, feeling like Astarion’s words only worsened his hunger. The damned orb thrummed once again in his chest, the tainted weave scraping at his arteries like nails on a chalkboard. He hissed briefly, holding his chest. The pain had not been this bad for a while, after Mystra converted the orb into a time bomb he had felt a little discomfort, but nothing like this.

“But it seems like it’s that blighted thing’s business, doesn’t it? Now, I'm going to make the wild assumption that you're here trying to unlock Hel’s chest to borrow something that you will give back without any kind of value left. You plan on absorbing an artifact, without her permission.”

With Astarion having said it as bleak as that, it made his plans seem ridiculous. Because it actually was ridiculous, The alcohol had made him foolish, and now he was starting to regret it. Shame plagued his cheekbones and down his neck, noticing how utterly desperate he must have looked in that moment, getting his clothes dirty and letting the vampire prey on him. Astarion sighed, as if he was not getting the answers he wanted from him.

 “Why is the orb acting up again, Gale?”

He decided to be honest for once, not even being sure why he was admitting it out loud to someone like him. His eyes darted somewhere else, looking at everything but where he heard Astarion’s voice coming from. “I… started talking with someone. Things were starting to get promising until I noticed he carried a golden ring. Not only was it a charm ring, but it was tainted with corrupted weave. Getting in contact with it distressed the orb. I don't know why it started acting unruly again, but I need to get it under control. If not, well you know what will happen next.”

“Huh, who would've thought.” Gale wasn’t sure, but he’d swore he heard some surprise in his voice. “Well, just because I am a nice person and even a nicer ally, I’ll help you with your magic dilemma, darling.”

That, Gale was not expecting. He was hoping the vampire would just laugh at him and shame him some more, then leave. Perhaps not telling on him, but blackmailing him by making his life a living hell for the next fortnight would not be above him and his antics. But helping? That had taken him by surprise, it simply was too good to be true.

“It seems to me that I’m not the only one that makes antithetical decisions under the influence of alcohol. I know you well enough to know there must be a caveat.”

Gale finally decided to stand up, Astarion’s dagger leaving his post even before he could finish doing so. He tried to clean the dirt off his knees, at the same time he tried to pry away the blush on his cheeks, knowing that the elf could see them clearly. He failed to do so, noticing how his steel had kept him in his place like an anchor.

“Oh trust me, it’s not because of that vinegar. I’m just feeling more charitable than usual, is that so bad? Still, if you insist on paying me back, we could always come to an agreement.”

By the end of his proposal, his tone had lowered and became a singsong-y whisper. It coiled like a spring about to be released, every breath and movement trained like a predator on the hunt. Gale already had an idea of what Astarion was suggesting, but he wanted to hear it from his lips.

“Don’t play the maiden, wizard. You know what I mean. You and that cursed orb are not the only ones with a need to consume.”

Gale licked his lips and hid his face from the vampire, feeling obscenely naked by his unrelenting gaze. His fingers traveled to the bridge of his nose, then sighed in defeat. Was he really about to consider making a deal with Astarion?

“I swear to Mystra, you’re worse than a devil. Why would you want to taste me? You were the one who said my blood smells awful, and that there was something wrong with me.” He imitated Astarion’s tone and his typical posture, and he actually heard the elf smile.

“You still remember what I said, it seems my words have a deep effect on you. While I did say that, how am I supposed to know if it has changed after that old mage came around and did… Whatever he did to your orb? That is a hypothesis now, perhaps we could try and test it.”

“Oh believe me when I say I have absolutely no interest in getting my neck mauled by those pointy fangs.”

“And I have no intention of drinking acid if it tastes as awful as it used to smell, I'm just trying to help you not blow up everything in the vicinity, myself included. And if you’re worried about the little pristine image our dear ranger has about you if she woke up and saw you bearing my mark, you needn’t worry. I am a messy eater, but there is no rule stating I could only bite your neck.”

The thought made him tremble. If he was worried about even getting those fangs near his skin, he couldn’t even start to imagine Astarion actually breaking his skin and drinking his blood, how it would feel to let him take and take, instill that life onto him, and what his weave-tainted blood would even taste like on the vampire’s cold dead lips.

Even if his thoughts wandered elsewhere, Gale couldn’t help but notice what was as clear as day. It seemed like Astarion was just as -if not more - desperate. If he was willing to risk getting his mouth filled with bile, then the no-human diet must be taking a toll on him. If the elf wanted to take advantage of him, who could prohibit Gale from doing the same? From going that scrawny dark road until he knew by heart every curve and bump it had to offer?

Let the blind lead the blind.

“Are you by any chance going to open up that chest or are you waiting for my orb to start a countdown?”

“You know as well as I do that Helaena will kill us both if she finds out we’ve been tampering with her chest. That won´t do. We have other methods available, seeing that we are no short of company tonight. We’ll both quench our hunger and go to sleep with a full belly… Or orb in your case.”

By this time his eyes had begun to get accustomed to being veiled in darkness, and now could see the outline of Astarion’s slim figure. The fact that he could not see his expressions or anything beyond what he was given by the dim light from outside was beyond worrying for him. He could use Light on a nearby object and find out, but he realized he didn't want to. It was better to do these kinds of agreements in the cover of darkness. Or perhaps he felt like if he looked at Astarion in his eyes, he would absolutely lose all his well-mannered composure.

“So, in conclusion… You will be stealing my much-needed snack from an unaware suspect. That thought surely puts me at ease.”

“Seems like hunger makes you one-track minded. It will obviously be stolen, but they won't even notice I did. You would be surprised how easy it actually is. It also helps that I have about 200 years of experience, all charms learnt in the city. Habits are hard to get rid of.”

Astarion extends his arms towards Gale, with the dagger still on his dominant hand. He starts playing with and balancing it between his fingers. Though a bit calloused from the years of wandering around Baldur’s Gate, he knows Astarion put a lot of effort in taking care of his hands. They had a clean floral smell to them, and Gale had seen those work like clockwork on a lock and on their enemies backs alike. The muscles under that marble skin of his hand twisting and flexing and relaxing all while having that blade between them, not even bothering to pay attention. Gale’s mind spinned along with the knife and suddenly wondered how it would feel to be around his fingers, to taste them. The thought made his heart race, the orb betraying his barely concealed interest by flushing purple-pink. Once again Astarion was smiling, almost knowingly to what he was feeling, to what he was thinking, even.

“This… Whatever this is… Will not happen again. I swear it. It does not fill me with glee that I am striking this deal with you, but I require it hastily. This failure is abnormal, it must have been that damned corrupted ring.”

And that damned man who carried it. He had acted so innocent, yet at the end, Gale was the one who was held captive against his will. His hand travels again, this time to his mouth and lightly bites onto his thumb, the pressure and pulse reminding that he was there, making that decision of his own volition with a being that was arguably a devil.

“If this is a malfunction of the orb, as you say, then yes. But then again, if the affected individual part is what is troubling you, there is no need to worry your head like that. Some things are always lost in parties like this one. Tomorrow, when all of this is done, you can always search the ground for more, searching like a little pup with your knees and hands deep in dirt. Would I enjoy seeing that…”

Gale barely suppressed a groan he was about to let out. When had the conversation turned so indecent? Maybe he could still move the deal around in his favor, though the size of his price was all in Astarion’s hands, quite literally. “Well then, let us be egotistical bastards for another day in our lives. Not that it would do us any more damage. Lead the way.”

The dim lights of the fire are almost blinding to Gale’s eyes after being encumbered by darkness for some time. They start walking together, as if nothing had happened under the cover of the night. He noticed Astarion’s eyes moving around the area, without making it obvious he was searching for someone dumb enough to fall into his trap. As soon as Gale noticed a mop of dirty blonde, he looked the other way in an attempt to become transparent and forget what had happened some minutes ago. And if the shame of his previous actions wasn’t hot enough on his cheeks, the realization that the blonde boy looked an awful lot like Astarion made him want to raze the trees around him and be done with it. Thankfully for him, if the vampire did notice his blushing, he did not say anything. Their unknown path led them almost directly into what had become a brawling pit. Helaena was still sitting where she was a while ago, though Halsin was no longer sitting by her side. As soon as he sat down, he felt a cold hand on his shoulder and then a whisper in his ear.

“Stay here while I fetch you your meal. Don’t be so impatient and try to behave.”

He demanded, like someone would to a dog. Luckily for Astarion, Gale knew how to be good, too good for his own sake, and he would try. And so, he stood still for a few seconds, maybe even half a minute. He soon noticed that this was the perfect place for people-looking.

Among the people before him, he sees Astarion, moving like a white shadow among the other bodies near the fire. For a moment he sees him talking to someone, then the fire crackles and he was gone. Whatever tricks he was going to use, he still had to thank him for helping, deciding to do so after he came back and the two of them were in a more secluded area, away from prying eyes. He focused his attention on Helaena, who looked positively drunk.

“I saw you, Gale. Don’t play coy with me. You think you could hide it from me?”

Gale opened his mouth, then closed it again. The ranger was giving him a knowing look. Was he really caught? Was she really going to rat him out? Gale knew she was mostly benevolent, but not with those who betray their trust. He gulped, trying to reign in his fear.

“I… Really don’t know what you mean, Hel.” She laughed, and he let out an anxious giggle.

“You and that Fist Wizard. Why did you two stop talking? Go on, he seemed enticed with your conversation skills, your innate charisma and charms.”

He also had malicious intentions, but best leave that for tomorrow. No one with a basic knowledge of magic would unknowingly wander about with a corrupted ring. But he didn’t want to make a scene when everyone was having such a fun time. Helaena handed him a half filled bottle, and they started to share it even though he was already feeling a bit lightheaded.

“I sense a bit of irony in your words, dear ranger. You were the one who let the vampire snake their way into your heart. I saw you two, drinking from his bottle and whispering what surely was a conversation one could have outside the bedroom. Seems like you want to remember the old times at the Grove.”

She let out a boisterous laugh, hugging him and his almost envious words by the neck. He had to tread carefully around that subject now that he was going to share Helaena’s fate very soon.

“Gale Dekarios, you know those times are long gone! And you know exactly why. Astarion is…” She suddenly seemed serious, like she was getting out of his drunken stupor. “He is like a poisoned apple. You tell yourself, ‘one bite and that will be it’. You know it will hurt, but then its numbing and one bite is never enough and in the end, he will take and take and take even more, until it destroys the both of you. He is a dubious friend and even meaner as a lover.”

He already knew some of it, but this was the first time she had been so sincere. The advice still rang as a caution in his ears, but he needed to consume oh so desperately.

“That was a lot, wasn’t it? You and your poems are a bad influence, Gale.” She moved a shoulder against him, making him smile. “Though that little friend of yours does look a lot like our vampire, doesn’t he… Maybe that is why you tossed him to the ground.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed. I better choose a better dance partner tonight, then.” He lies twice in a row, because he does not know any better, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell her respectively. “Thank you for sharing that, Helaena. And for confiding in me.”

“It’s nothing, really. Now, did I talk about that one time he and I…” Helaena turned her head around and Gale saw the archdruid approaching the two of them. She carelessly threw the bottle at him and licked her lips. “Well, it seems like my story will have to wait. I’m… Hunting for larger prey with sharper teeth and claws, let’s just say.”

She let out a loud cackle, and under some pretense or other, Halsin took her away to her tent and Gale was back to watch the crowd, drinking what was left of the heavy wine. A few minutes later Astarion was back again. At first glance he seemed fine, but Gale had learned to look into his eyes to see beyond the mask.  He cleaned his lips with the back of his hand as if cleaning wine or spit, then blinked twice and sighed, even though he didn't even need to breathe. There was something amiss.

“I have your price now. Let’s go, I know a place where we can talk more… Privately.”

“My my, how uncouth of you to suggest such a thing!” He laughed a bit, though it turned anxious when he saw him frown, his eyes looking back in the direction he came for.

“Now is not the time for japes, mage. Leave that bottle and stand up. We need to go. Now.”

After that final bottle, Gale wasn’t even sure how he was able to stand, or even walk upright. His body itched to lean on Astarion, to finally show a semblance of weakness and bare his neck. When he opened his mouth to speak consciously again, they were surrounded by trees in the darkness.

“If you don’t mind me asking, who did you steal this from?”

“... You don’t need to know.”

“But I want to know. Before I consume it, I won’t be able to sleep without knowing who it belonged to.”

“It's an invisibility charm, doubling as a pendant. Is that good enough for you?”

“No. Tell me who it belonged to, lest I shall suppose they are no longer breathing.”

“It was a thief, Gale!” He admitted quickly, sounding desperate but trying to keep his tone down. “Gods know you’re maddening. It was a thief. Someone doing the same as me.”

Someone like us, you mean. Now that he had accepted his request, Gale was now an accomplice in his crime. Astarion took the thin chain out of his pocket and the pendant dangled. It was an alloy of silver and copper, well-worn and the pendant silver with an amethyst in the middle of it. A small heart. How fitting.

“She knew all the tricks in the book, so I had to use some of my more… Bodily charms.” Despite the tone of his voice, Gale could see the disgust in his face. He definitely had done something he didn’t want to do. Gale felt disgusted with himself, for having him go through that, then angry at the thief.

“Ah. It seems like the phrase ‘No honor among thieves’ is quite correct.”

“I don’t know if it was hers or not, she had lots of rings in a hidden pocket, as well as gold in a bag of holding. This damned pendant is the first one that I felt had magic in it. So be thankful for it, or we can end this here.”

“It seems like your little encounter has killed your mood. I am thankful, really. Thank y-”

Before he could even hear it, Astarion was shutting him up with his hand, using the other to direct him somewhere else, in silence. His hand was almost cold, and he could feel his own ragged breath warming it up. Behind Astarion he heard crumbling leaves and a hushed conversation, one with a softer tone than the other. A man and a woman, probably. They needed to act fast if they wanted to escape without making a scene, or drawing blood.

“Gods be damned, they know I stole from them. They haven’t come alone, for sure. We need to do something, quickly.”

They decided to go in the opposite direction they heard the voices coming from, but the other two were getting closer with every step. Astarion starts talking, very low and emphasizing every syllable.

“It’s them, that thief and your darling Fist.” Gale has already lost account of how many times he has blushed tonight, but it doesn’t help the heat of his body. “They are working together. Birds of a feather flock together, after all.”

Another voice joins the other two behind them, and they stay put, trying to listen in. He doesn’t hear that much, maybe a few words but that’s it before two sets of steps seem to leave the forest. They are so deep into it that the only source of light is the full moon, barely visible through the trees. Gale hears something about ‘having to do all the job by myself’, then hears the unsheathing of a sword. He definitely was not ready for a fight, not without his gear. Astarion’s eyes glint in the moonlight, seemingly having heard the whole conversation. It was all normal activities for a rogue, but not for him, a wizard of renown, sneaking along so far away from the known, blindly trusting in someone who shouldn’t be trusted. But it was too late for regrets.

“Come, let’s keep going.” Gale suggested, standing up slowly to hopefully not make any noise. He touched Astarion’s shoulder and he seemed to suddenly remember he was there. The steps were closing in, and soon the both of them started moving again.

They must have walked for a few minutes, stopping to catch the steps still following. All the walking had finally made Gale lose all his senses due to the alcohol in his veins. There really was no way of hiding it, he was drunk, and everything was just so funny. How did he end up in the middle of the woods with Astarion of all people, being chased by someone who wanted them both dead? He let out a giggle, and then a little screech when his face found the ground. He had stumbled on a root above ground, and now the world was spinning above him. He heard a little shit, and two cold hands carrying him to his feet, then he heard the steps closing in.

It was like a bucket of cold water right into his face. When Gale opened his eyes once again, he was staring at the forest, with his back against a tree. Astarion was heavily breathing at his side, eyes closed and frowning, as if he were praying in a final desperation attempt to go unnoticed. He never did that, even when the battle seemed to go awry. It made his stomach churn and his heart beat even faster. If that person chasing them really wanted them dead, maybe he should also start doing so. He held onto his earring just as the orb thrummed in his chest, whispering a prayer he knew from memory before he had a clear thought for the first time in half an hour at this point. A brilliant idea, and probably the most stupid one Gale has ever had in his entire life. He might regret it for the rest of his life, or he might not, but it was flying or dying now. He finished his prayer, and then closed his eyes, trying to concentrate.

Gods above me, please close your eyes momentarily, just for me, just this once. You know I’ve been good, but this time I will not be. Forgive me, for I am about to bite into your forbidden apple.

The next few seconds are confusing, he pulls Astarion into his embrace and against the tree. Gale could not bear to see into his blood-red eyes for fear of losing his newfound drunken courage, he could only see his lips and fangs peeking out uncannily, mouth moving every time he tried to breathe in more air. Gale caressed his cheek and then the back of his neck, hushing him.

“Trust me, if just this once.”

Their chaser was so close he could hear armor clinking. He nodded and Gale felt his heart wanting to escape the cage of his chest. Out of excitement, out of fear, out of the thrill, he did not know. Before he could dwell on it more, he kissed him.

The first one was a chaste kiss, just as if testing the water, seeing how Astarion would really react. Contrary to what Gale would have wanted to do, they had no time for testing and probing. The second one he couldn't guess who came closer first, but after a few seconds their lips were locked in again, all trained lips and tongue with no teeth from Astarion, who tasted like wine and alcohol and so much more, his hands trailed Gale’s spine up right into his hair, messing it up and pulling him closer, and he could not deny how good it felt, to after so many years, tasting the flesh of something tangible, grounded in this plane. Even if Astarion was an elf turned vampire, nothing felt more human than this, to be surrounded with soft skin and lukewarm lips. The hand that was not distracted with his curls at his neck, was fisted in his white linen shirt, as if hoping he would never push away, to never let go.

“What in the hells do you- Oh.”

Ah. And that reminded him why they were there in the first place. Gale bit Astarion’s lip as they separated, licked his lips and using the hand that was still at his nape, he hid Astarion’s face in the crook of his neck. He looked at their chaser, an older man with tied up hair, dressed in light armor, his rapier shining white in the moon.

“Do people nowadays have even a little bit of decency? Get the fuck away from us, you’re scaring him.”

Astarion whimpered as he held him even closer, playing his part oh so well. His slender fingers combing through his hair and then going further down, toying with the fabric of his clothes, tracing the patterns and licking at his neck, the soft warm licks tightening his trousers. Gale did not know how much he would be able to control himself with Astarion tearing him apart at the seams.

“Sorry to interrupt, lads. One of my business associates lost something of great value just now, a silver necklace with a little pendant… Saw someone coming into the woods after losing it. Happen to know anything about it?”

“Huh, so do you think anyone who comes into these woods has some sort of malicious intent in mind? Great way of thinking, you’ll surely catch whomever you’re searching for.” Astarion tugged his hair, probably for talking too much. “The answer is no, I really don’t know anything about that. Can you go away now? We are busy, and about to get busier, you surely understand.”

The guy just stood there, trying to say something, anything to the both of them. But he really couldn’t, he probably didn’t even know how the ‘thief’ looked, so it was Gale’s word against this man’s.

“I think… Our friend here wants to see us.” Astarion whispered in his ear but loud enough to be certain that the unknown man had heard him, then softly bit at his lobe, making him shudder. “My sweet, can we give him a show?”

It took him a while to recognise that Astarion was referring to him. He was used to Astarion’s usual pet names, but this one was new. Certainly unexpected, not that it made his trousers feel any less hot. Gale kissed him again, not really wanting to answer, sensing a possessive no, only I can see you like this was begging to come out of his mouth, knowing all too well that it wasn’t true. Still, maybe for this Gale and Astarion they were playing, maybe it was true, and he was only his, and had always been. Gale let his tongue peak out and swirled his tongue around his, making Astarion mewl.

“I think… I’ll just go.”

He heard the man say, not even stopping for a second to see his face or anything else about him. Gale needed to make it more believable, ever the overachiever. He snaked a hand to ruck up Astarion’s shirt, finally touching the cold skin beneath all those masks and demeanor he was so used to carrying. Astarion bucked into it, as if begging for more. After that, the next step was to carve him and live inside him, with the remnants of that young elf from two hundred years ago.

Gale’s hand traveled to the small of Astarion’s back and he flinched, immediately separating from his touch, gasping for air and letting his head rest on the tree.

“That was… Well” He licked his chapped lips, then let out a laugh and looked back at Gale, looking disheveled. “Seems like my little mage has grown fangs, after all.”

“By the Gods, you little…” Gale smiled wickedly, wine making his blood flow harder and faster than before, fire licking at his insides. “Someone seemed to like it, so surely it wasn’t that bad.”

“Did that goddess of yours truly train your tongue so well? Or was it that good before her dominion over you?” Pale fingers ran over his tunic and pulled him closer.

“Hmm. Wouldn’t you like to know.”

He slowly pressed their foreheads together, their breaths intertwining and making him even more dizzy than he was. He could only see Astarion staring right back at him, then lowering his sight down to his lips, then back up. Gale licked them just to see his pupils shaking with excitement, like a cat.

“Oh? What do you think you’re doing? The bad guys are gone. The play is over, little mage.” Astarion purred, his lips a ghost touch on Gale’s own. He was teasing, and he was winning.

“Just because we can not hear them does not mean they could still be watching, Astarion. We need to keep the act up until we are completely sure they are gone. Indulge me, do you not desire this as much as I do?”

It was a plea as much as it was a question, and Astarion seemed to know, but still had to consider. Gale allowed him to ponder for a while, releasing him from his grip and straightening his tunic. The uncomfortable silence lasted for about two minutes that Gale spent trying to clear his mind.

“Astarion,” He warned, expecting the worst. “If this is not what you wanted, you can tell me and I will understand. Just give me the pendant and you can go on your merry hunt. And we will go back to being acquaintances at best, and never bring this up again.”

“No, it’s not that I don't want you. As much as I hate to admit it, I do. Want you.” Gale did not want to think of the implications of that right now. Not when he sounded like he had just come to that conclusion, lowering his shoulders for what seemed like the first time in his vampiric life. His tone and posture had changed, and Gale wondered when did Astarion feel more vulnerable, without his facade or without clothes.

He had some insight from Helaena and their late night talks under his false sky. As much as there was poison in his heart, he was also broken inside and out. Especially around the subject they were treading right now. Still, Gale had seen growth from a man who hid from the sun for two whole centuries. Life springing again from where only stone and concrete once stood.

“But…”

“It needs to be under my own conditions. I will tell you what I don’t want if we get to it. I will not forget your kindness with me, we will talk about it later. Right now what I need is to make you go brainless on me.”

And just like that, in the blink of an eye the facade was back on. All velvet smooth, lilting voice, glistering red eyes like a siren at sea. And Gale was ready to launch himself at him and drown in his own hubris. Adore him at his feet like he would with his goddess.

“Can I kiss you?” Gale asked, more like pleading, his hands twitched to fly to where they left. Astarion laughed then noticed it was a genuine question. He grabbed him by the hips and pulled until their bodies were touching, one about to burst in combustion and the other cold and sharp as ice.

“Yes, you can. And you will.” He grabbed Gale by the chin and made him look straight into his eyes, red set ablaze by desire, so close he couldn't look at anything else. “Kiss me like you mean it, please.”

It takes no more than a blink for Gale to melt into a kiss once again, and it’s like a bowstring so taut it snaps from the pressure. Astarion’s lips are warmer and hungrier than before. Soon enough it turns into desperation, teeth clicking and all kinds of manners lost, pulling at each other until one of them gets tangled first. Gale’s hands held his hips like a lifeline, pushing and pulling as if waiting to become one, rutting slowly against one another. He was undeniably drunk, his movements even sloppier from the arousal that he was sure Astarion could also feel. Being that close there was nowhere he could hide from the way he made him feel. He noticed Astarion’s pale hands treading down his torso, running the pads of his fingers ever so smoothly, causing the hair on his neck to stand, going down and down and down. Just as he was about to feel the ghost touch on his crotch, Gale pinned Astarion’s hips to the tree, trying to pry him away. Astarion groaned and hissed, clearly frustrated at the fact that they were once again separated. This reaction was not lost on his body, and Gale felt his cock throbbing, enticed by the sweet sound. At this, Astarion just laughed, trying to fix his curls as well as he could. Even if they were alone, even after unapologetically devouring each other, Astarion would not be Astarion without a little vanity.

“You know, this could have been so different if you just casted a Minor Illusion to distract them. Yet I doubt you would have been able to cast it properly, seeing how utterly drunk you are.”

“Sometimes I forget you carry that lousy mouth around. Just for your information, it would’ve taken me little effort to cast an Illusion, even when inebriated.” Gale started explaining, trying to swipe the saliva off his beard without much success. “ You can thank Blackstaff and its students for that.”

“So, what you’re saying is that you wanted us to get into this sticky situation.” Astarion tutted, the sly smile on his face making the orb flush pink-purple again, feeling like his cheeks were nearly searing from the heat. It was part lie and part truth, but he wasn’t going to say that outloud. “Naughty naughty mage.”

“Oh? Is that complaining I hear?” Gale asked, and only the wind answered. The look on his face said everything. Guilty as charged.  “As I thought.”