Archive of Our Own

Each night of their travel felt similar and so unique from the previous one. A final deadline sure was a great way to retrospect on life, at least if that was what you would want to spend your last moments on. Many campers preferred focusing on the next action or the present moment. Baldur's Gate needed them alive, taking the action at the right time, just so the world would not end prematurely. 

Or they wouldn't change before their due time. 

Change, however, was inevitable. The moonlight reflecting from Shadowheart's new self was proof of that. The droplets on Wyll's horns shine right before he towelled off. Jaheira scolded Minsc for something way out of Gale's hearing reach. The softness in her expression as she took the heart-shaped necklace from the hamster's mouth made it clear he didn't have to interfere. Not that he would want to - this wasn't a kindergarten or a university for him to try to keep order in. 

Karlach was fishing their meal for the night with Halsin. While tridents were related to sea gods - their usage for hunting probably would make them question such a decision. Lae'zel helped to cut the heads and pierce their bodies, as Minthara explained the armour usage of the different scaly patterns. 

Each of them had to sacrifice something One way or another - they had to make a change. 

Astarion, however, took that literally, changing into the newly bought clothes. 

"Gale, you're a smart guy, right?"

"Hm?" Gale turned around as he was getting his things set up in the Harbour. He didn't even realise he had been staring at the others with a sleeping bag in his hands. "Well, you could say that, if you consider all the academic years plus self-study, one could say I'm quite decent."

"Well then - what do you think of this outfit?"

Gale felt there had to be a catch to the question. Red tunic with golden symmetrical embroidery of long-necked birds with their rounded crowns. The neckpiece. in contrast, was plain black with only small hints of golden stripe on top of it. The only part that seemed not to work were the breeches - while most of them matched the crimsons of the tunic, the suede seal's light tone took the focus off Astarion's face, making the lower half the focal point of the outfit.

"Decent, but, I can see room for improvement. The pattern looks great though, and gold suits you."

Light like a breeze, a chuckle escaped Astarion's mouth, as he turned around to face his mirror. He stared…too long at it. Gale once again said something wrong. But clothes could be changed easily. It was important to dress up in a flattering way when death could visit you at any moment.

Their silence between the two went unnoticed by others. For the two most talkative beings in the camp, though, it was loud and clear how this was a hard night. They had grown closer through the past few days - as any close-to-death experience should, or at least, could bring people together. But even at the moment, when Gale stared at how bright the moonshine made Astarion's hair look, he felt grateful he couldn't see Astarion's face. It would be the same set of few meticulously learnt expressions that meant nothing in the sea of so-called 'playfulness'.

It felt like they were the last two remaining ones that had to make life-changing choices. It isn't true, Gale thought as he finally put down the sleeping bag, as there was still a lot to do before meeting with the Absolute. 

The soft sounds of sniffing became louder, and Gale looked down under his legs, surprised not to see Scratch. He looked up and saw grimacing Astarion, unbuttoning the tunic.

"If we needed more charcoal, we didn't need to burn our meal for it!"

Minthara turned around and screamed back. "You wouldn't eat it no matter what and it's not burnt, but smoked!"

"Well then, put it in a smoke, not the fire!"

"Oh because you know how it's done!"

"Obviously, I know how it's NOT done, darling. If you wanted to give us a presentation, you could have wasted one fish instead of the full ocean by the smell of it!"

"Elf." Lae'zel stood up and walked closer to the bridge separating the two halves of the camp. "Through the past few days, you did not eat fish anyway. Eat your blood as much as you please, just not in front of us, and we will eat our fish in peace. You are the one wasting the daily portions of food by not eating them."

Gale knew there were way more words said, but all of his attention went to stop staring at one of the embroidered birds on Astarion's clothes. Maybe a pale accessory in the middle of the black fabric wasn't such a bad idea, as it would make it not only pop but also, make the trousers work way better. It was way too big of a compliment for Astarion and way too rude of an expression for the wizard to stare like that. 

To some, unpacking was harder than packing. If you had the right attitude about it, neither was an issue. All that was needed was a plan, a pocket dimension, and a bit of organisation skills after all
Whatever falling apart and tearing each other's skin off was happening in the background couldn't stop him from placing the books in the right order. He looked at one he picked in an abandoned ruin and sighed.

There were so many books he had yet to read. Spells to learn, recipes to find out, fabrics to feel. There was… way too much noise coming from the camp. 

"If you could mind - it's late. We shouldn't waste our energy on some minor inconveniences."

"Gale is right." Shadowhearts put down the comb as she finally finished brushing her hair, "Tomorrow is an important night. We have to go to help Astarion with moving on, too."

"Oh!" the man in question turned around, and Gale tried to look anywhere other than the exposed chest. "Well, pardon ME for not wanting to sleep in a place stinking with burnt corpses!"

"Smoked!"

"Whatever! Ugh, I can't believe none of you are bothered by the smell!"

"Smell of what?" Karlach handed Minthara a basket with five more fish. "Harbour?"

"No, you– Whatever! I would prefer for this smell not to get on my freshly bought clothes!"

"Well then, m'lord-" Minthara huffed, "Why don't you move away from the source of it, then?"

"Guys, as much as I like being a teacher, I really don't want to reprimand all of you for your child-like behaviour. Shadowheart is right, we should get rest, as quickly as possible."

Great, one of the last nights before the inevitable, and people looked angry at him again. Right on the mark. It seemed to work though, as Astarion grumbled something under his nose, taking an apple from Minthara's hand and biting into it before returning to his post. 

Where was Gale? Oh right, books. One more to the pile on the right. Five books for one night felt enough. He wished he had a pocket dimension, as it hurt him to put them on the ground like that instead of a safer, less moist place but, he hoped the few days wouldn't destroy the written word. 

"What doesn't work?"

Gale turned around and bounced back immediately, seeing Astarion had unbuttoned the tunic fully. His sense of personal space and privacy seemed skewed for such a secret guy. 

"I asked for your opinion, Gale of Waterdeep. I saw the grimace on your face when you scanned the pants and while I find that flattering-"

"You really should not-"

"- I assume they're the issue."

The sounds of pages turning as Gale mindlessly stared through one of the books, unfruitfully trying to find his book paper. 

"Well, the outfit generally has warmer and saturated tones with black balancing everything out. Adding to it all the colder and light shade, however, really destroys the coherency of the piece. If you were to change the colour to a darker shade, I think it would make your face stand out more."

And again, silence. Way too loud silence. 

"Why are you asking me though?" Gale didn't risk turning his head again, hearing the ruffles and crinkles of the clothes. 

"Why not?"

"Well, I would think out of both of us, you would be more… knowledgeable of physical appearance."

"That is true but - it's the wearer that can make any clothes work well. Though, of course, some things need to be upgraded to reach a certain level close to perfection."

"Perfection exists purely in the zero-one setting. You either are perfect or no-"

"Yes, yes, sure. But you can always enhance the perfection with more of it. Add more finazz, fizzazz- whatever."

"You say 'whatever' awfully a lot today."

"And you sound like you have a stone stuck in your shoe."

"That's not-" Oh thanks gods he finally buttoned the shirt at least, Gale thought. His face was getting awfully warm for such a cold night. "Well. I didn't want to stop us in the travel and now, I have a blister there."

Astarion smirked. "Well then, heal, wizard! Or ask our ascended friend there!" 

Gale refused to look at Shadowheart. He could tell his eyebrows were furrowing. The tension of the night was way too palpable and he knew something was wrong with Astarion. If he knew any better, he would probably not ask. But out of every possible option to take, he took the most straightforward one.

"Astarion, I can tell that you are stressed about tomorrow. We are going to do our best to support you through it. If you want to talk about it, though, I can listen."

"Look, a walking detonator is talking about stress. Oh, don't give me that look. You look like a mess yourself."

"I look presentable enough."

"You hadn't slept for the past two nights."

"You hadn't, either."

Astarion stared at Gale, seemingly waiting for some type of follow back. Not getting what he asked for, though, he hummed and turned around. 

"It's not our turn to do so."

Humidity is reflected through the subjective feel of density and dyspnoea. Perhaps even something so weirdly palpable, yet nonexistent, stuck in one's trachea - or oesophagus, if one doesn't want to die a cruel quick death - that no liquid could get rid of, no manoeuvres could push it through or out, made the feeling even stronger. 

Shame. Or guilt, stress, sleep deprivation, something was contributing to strengthening the unnerving silence. As others ate, Gale joined in, only barely making himself nibble three bites of the smoked meal.

He had to make an important choice that night. It was possible he could make it in the future but, with the daily uncertainty…it was better to make it today. 

He couldn't let himself think too long. He couldn't overthink it. He had to do it - for himself. Even if the final answer hurt, the next night could be too late for it. For his own future. 

That he wasn't supposed to witness. That he could take away from himself.

A future made out of a sacrifice.

===

The wind whistled the most beautiful tales at times when only a few were still standing. It was sad that elementals could be made, but not talked with. Gale wondered what the waves were saying, what the fire cackling meant, what that fallen leaf had witnessed. He felt so stupid for even wondering all that, as he knew they didn't have a consciousness to even be able to talk about it.

But what if. What if the rock he threw out from his shoe wanted to tell him something? What if it was a personal vendetta or even a generational one? What if another stone he kicked had drowned in the sea, and its lover, another half, sibling, came to him? Or maybe, a ghost took a form of it to drop a hint that something would be wrong? 

The silence was no longer a threat. This one was familiar. He was even surprised he noticed the earlier ones but joining a big group and travelling together wasn't something he had an expertise with. Silence should have still felt like a second home, only disappearing with sounds of trusty familiar wings, bringing him company. Silence was a friend in itself. No other gave him the space he needed and craved in the most important moments.

No one else had left him for another. No other had comforted him in the most desperate moments.

Yet, at that exact moment of need - it stared at him.
Till dawn, he thought. The first crimson shades in the sky will mark the time for my choice.

Silence, however, easily disappeared. After all - rarely any space was truly silent. But a yawn was enough to break it. 

"Aaaaaah, so, ah. Gale, tell me, how is the wall looking?" 

"Pardon?" Ageing sure was tough, as the soft electric waves went through Gale's legs as he uncrossed them, bending them before his face and wrapping his arms around them.

"I assume it must be quite a pretty view."

"I…well," Gale looked above Astarion's head, staring at the crated windows and dirty bricks surrounding the line of arches. "I wouldn't say it's the best one I've seen but, it's somewhere in the category of: it exists. A solid five out of ten. But I don't get why you are mentioning it."

"And what about the stars?"

Gale's confusion grew as he looked up, seeing only a few stars in between the cirrocumulus that glided through the light night sky. They were there, sure, but he didn't have the right mindset at the moment to admire them. Looking down at Astarion didn't bring him any answers, so he looked back at the sky, wondering just how different that night would be. 

"Perfect, in order. Uncaring of the horrors that we have to witness."

Gale held his breath, hearing Astarion's mocking chuckle. He probably was stressed as much as Gale was that night. To come back to a place you ran away from, to get back to your oppressor and maybe even an old mentor, with few hopes of surviving… Gale could relate to it and tried to be understanding.

"So…", he continued, " why did you ask?"

"Your telescope." Astarion pointed at it and huffed as Gale only blankly set his eyes on the other man in response."Well, if you want to do some night or star gazing, that wall is in the way, dear. Unless you want to stare at yours truly."

Gale straightened his back. 

"Hah, as if. I just have it placed like that as I don't need it at the moment."

"Uh-huh. Mister Gale, the big wizard, placed something like that to watch his sleeping companions."

"I don't- you are not even asleep!" Feeling his voice got a tad too loud Gale pressed his right palm over his mouth. 

"Exactly - I don't need to sleep, I thought you knew that."

"...What?"

"Oh, so you don't know?" Gale shook his head. "Elves don't need to sleep, darling. We can doze off but we don't need to do so."

Gale felt his ears grow warmer. Of course, elves didn't need that. He read about it a long time ago and - it must have slipped his mind. Way too many things had, apparently. Only then had he noticed Astarion was holding the pants from earlier, seemingly trying to dye the medial part of the breeches. If you call the two stains he made even dyeing, that is. 

Sleep deprivation was a power-wasting state and Gale knew it. Three days in were enough to make him irritated and hung on small details. 

"Why do you keep on calling me darling?"

"What, do you dislike people showing affection?"

"I dislike you using that mask."

Astarion raised his eyebrows.

"Maybe you should get some sleep tonight, love. If you are seeing some nonexistent objects, you should-"

"I meant your attitude. You tend to butter up others when you are nervous. You can just say what's on your mind, you know it? We don't have to use this", Gale pointed at one of his eyes, "to open up. You don't have to trust me but… I can tell something is different tonight. And I'm worried for you."

"Hah!" 

Gale shhh'ed him.

"You're the one to talk. You seem lost tonight."

"In what way?"

"Scattered."

"I…" Gale changed his sitting position again, straightening his left leg. "I… a lot has been going on."

"Uh-huh. You can tell me."

"I don't think I need to tell you that."

"So do you want me to talk or not?"

"Only if you want to."

"That settles it then- no! " 

Astarion stood up and a moment too late he realised that the sound of glass he heard was the dye bottle he knocked on the pants. Arms raised in the air, hands pushing through the white waves of hair, showing clearer the growing disbelief, as he whimpered the frustration under his nose.

"And I was trying to do it so carefully…"

Gale came closer, each step as quiet as the wind, and picked up the dye not to let the remains stain the fabric further. Too bad this was a good dye, as the black figment was so strong, it probably wouldn't come off too easily. 

He stared up at Astarion, seeing he closed his eyes and started pacing between their tents. 

###

Great. Trust that on the night before a big, life-changing event you have waited for a long time - no, your whole life, everything that can, goes horribly. 

It wasn't entirely true. The outfit was a steal - not quite in the literal sense but… he wanted to borrow it for a bit. A longer one bit, if things went well, but he would return it nevertheless. There was no way his plan wouldn't work. 

Walk in, get through everything unnoticed, kill — nothing he hadn't done before. 

Yet, everything was going badly. First, he didn't notice when his Thieve's Tools got stolen - or might have fallen out of his pocket, though neither of the options was good. After that, he was publicly humiliated in the Circus, fought with some weird enlarged scorpion hybrid, got an allergic reaction, and fought the headache throughout the remaining day. The smell of that stinky fish was a draw, destroying any cool he tried to hold by at least wearing the outfit he 'bought'. He felt mad for not checking the pants prior properly. It's not his fault someone designed ninety per cent and rushed on the last ten . A common mistake in his experience - not that he could relate to. 

Him? Astarion, THE Astarion - whatever that could mean -, had a lowered perception? That was bad. As the group's Professional Looker, his survival was the key to their success.

Whatever that job description was. Ugh, and now the fit was ruined. Horrible, horrible, truly… a horrendous day. 

The outfit was special. The main colours were reversed to Cazador's typical outfit and were supposed to be a symbol. New yet changed. Old but free. Ascended. 

Everything was perfectly thought out. But nothing was perfect, nothing was good. Even Boy Scout Wyll had his issues. So why couldn't he just take a few more, to let Astarion have this one most important day of his day not ruined?

He knew he was irritated. That deer he… ah, who cared, killed a few hours ago to get him off the edge, was not only old, but disgusting. He couldn't make himself finish it. The taste vaguely resembled another disgraceful blood. He looked at Gale and wondered just what created such a distinct horrid taste. Astarion's theory was that there was something to do with one's health, both mental and physical but he couldn't be sure. 

Things were going badly, and he realised that on top of everything else, he had already forgotten the whole speech he prepared for the next day. 

That shouldn't have happened. That NEVER happened. He was prepared for it all. Whatever was coming, he would prevail. 

He lived through death. Death consumed through him. And thanks to that, he let life keep on moving. He just filled the life cycle with a few small changes in the pace.
What real change did it make? Correct - none. 

And to top everything - it rained that day.
No wonder the fish odour was still lingering in his nostrils. 

At least - that's what he assumed. Fish were brought by the distribution of the world they lived in. 

To be called by the world around you. Elements you need to survive, joining in everything else.
Only for you to be turned into dust. 

The sudden strike of energy felt out of place for Astarion. This wasn't who he used to be. Not in front of a guest- 

Guest? No, that wasn't the correct term.
Not anymore. 

Gale, in turn, seemed frozen. If he were a statue, Astarion would get why someone could make him their model. People could relate to the tiredness and kindness in the eyes of a previously golden boy. 

Staring at the wasted pair of pants, Astarion sighed and just picked it up.

"What are you doing?" There was no actual curiosity in Gale's voice. Judging. Pity. Something else, that Astarion just couldn't get still.

"What do you think I'm doing? Oh right - you probably never did that yourself. Magic solves all problems, am I right?"

There was no point in being mean but the words just kept pouring out of his mouth that day. And he let them. He had to use any chance he got. 

"I've had my fair share of dirty things I had to do. Need I remind you I was the one who got us out of that church alive."

Astarion walked over to the river and with a smooth swoop, filled one of the pots Karlach picked during their way with the smelly water. Gale waited till the man got closer to him to ask the question that was wrinkling his tired face.

He watched as Astarion put down the filled dish. "I thought you hated the smell?"

"I do." Astarion looked around and picked up a few twigs lying around. He could feel his face wrinkling as the drops from the wet wood got under the nightgown shirt he changed into earlier. He put them all down in one spot beside the pot and returned to his tent, victoriously getting out with two bars of soap. 

Gale, however, kept staring at him like before. Maybe that man used to be a dog once.

Pff. As if there was any life besides that one. What a joke.
Now, Just to make the fire. Easy . 

===

Gale didn't know what his mind state was exactly but, watching Astarion rub the broken twigs into the ground surely felt very similar to it.
He could tell neither of them acted in the way they wanted to. Yet the stars kept staring at them, unchanged from the night before. 

An era was about to end. Many lives were about to change. They were the ones to make it happen.
Yet, the world seemed to stay unbothered by their antics. 

Astarion took it upon himself to change that. Or at least, care for the unjust state of things.

"What did they have that I don't? These twigs are the same from the fire there!" Hissing with all his mind, Astarion broke the last remaining twig, leaving only parts too short to do anything with anymore.

"Why won't you use that one, then? You would walk so quietly, they wouldn't notice." 

Such a big inhale starting a response was not the greatest sign.

"Well, excuse me Gale, but not everyone here has a sense of scent on the level of a Kuo-Toa."

"They didn't seem bothered before."

"Gale, dear - heat makes water evaporate, and thus, spread the smell. I do not want them to question what I'm doing."

"Yet you let me do so."

"You would do so no matter what. And also, if I didn't want your input, I would just move elsewhere or tell you to go on a walk. Maybe it would have helped you fall asleep. But - all this warm talk isn't exactly warming up the wood."

"Karlach lit up that one."

Exasperated, Astarion shook his head and crossed his hands. seemingly trying to hold some remark unsaid. That sure meant some lines were about to be crossed and, if Gale didn't intervene, others could probably be, in the best scenario, surprised in the morning.

"What if I warm it up?"

The slow turn of Astarion's head was more than telling that out of every possible option, Gale could have said, he only kept choosing the most infuriating ones. 

"Sure. Why not."

...Or, not?

###

He acted way too long out of character. The frustration was…tiring. His mind was supposed to be focused on the plan. Straight to the point, and forward with any remark. Instead of that, however, he could feel the racing thoughts, running around in patterns he couldn't stop. It's been at least the third dead end he just felt, without being able to catch a single actual thought. 

It might have been the smell. Or the fact he hadn't fed on anything properly for two days. It's okay - I will feast tomorrow. Till the end of time.

How much hunger did Gale feel at the same moment, though? Seeing the pattern of the gold-eating orb, he too must have kept himself on the edge. Something for sure was bothering the man - Astarion could tell at least that much. He wasn't giving his snarky remarks, talking about magic. He was so…

Quiet.
The same type the storm liked to be. 

"It's done." Even his voice sounded mechanical. Responses are given without a thought behind them, automated.

"Good." Astarion cleaned his hands of the dirt remains. He didn't know what possessed him to attempt to make fire with the filthy twigs. "Thank you, darling. I appreciate-"

The wind just HAD to blow in a way to make Astarion gag on the smell. Covering his nostrils, he went to his tent and got two more soup bars. If the pants would still smell like fish after everything - he would, he would do something for sure. Whatever god decided to give fish the odour, hopefully, was expelled off Elysium for their sins. Knowing anything about the gods though, that douchebag got the best seat for this method of harassment. 

The water boiled and the lid helped the smell not spread too far. He knew he could have done it all with the fire on the other side of the camp but he was not looking forward to waking any of the other guys for them to question his necessary bad choices.

He had another suit he 'bought'.
But it wouldn't be the same.

Slowly, his plan worked. The odour was gone even without the lid on. Something else seemed to stink. Gale's blank expression, as the man stared into different planes of existence, kept becoming more grim with every moment. He could pretend to observe the stars but - he looked past them. Past the beauty, he seemed to find it just the night before. 

As the soapy water boiled, he put it in his pants.

"Now, observe. As you'll see the magic of everyday life."

===

If by that, Astarion meant taking out of the pot pants in an even worse, spread ink state than before, Gale applauded him for it. 

"You sure have shown me how to dirty your hands."

He could see how Astarion barely held anger inside him. The pale elf wasn't one to get his face flushed in anger. His nostrils though, flaring, flapping, furrowed brows, exposed teeth, showed the strength of the anger's rade shade filling up Astarion's sight.

Surprisingly, though, Astarion let go of the pants so willingly. Gale decided to use a Mage Hand as a holder, hoping not to stain his shirt with still-dropping ink.
Instead, however, Astarion just got into his tent, followed by some frustrated, muted grunts.

The pants looked…worn out. To some extent, the light browns were closer to an acceptable shade. If not for the top piece, the desaturated tones would not be such an issue. 

It reminded Gale of his purple robe. As he looked back, looking at the objects in his tent's shadow, he could remind himself how much he went through in it. The greens he was wearing at the moment suited him and made him look fresher, though it wasn't exactly what he cared about in that situation. 

They both were frustrated - he knew that much. So, why couldn't he just stop himself? He had to be doing something wrong. If he were nice, this whole issue would have been resolved way earlier, and he could peacefully figure out the answer to his question.

What other time to start than now, he thought. 

"Astarion, I'm so-"

"If you dare to speak another word, I swear your neck will be bent, no matter how poisonous your blood is."

Horrible timing. My mistake.
Gale stared at the pants. There had to be something he could do with them. He could offer Astarion to use Disguise Self but, seeing the great reception of his last few ideas, he didn't feel he should mention anything, anymore.

Maybe that was a sign he needed. Maybe that was the answer he sought for.

He just had to hear it out loud.

###

Nothing went as it should. Nothing went as it must. Everything went to hell, even if he'd already left it.

What sins were given to his name for the battles life put him through? There was no other life past the one he lived. If gods were cruel to make-believe lies about past lives and sins of something else, he was glad not to be cursed like Gale for their presence. He had enough oversized egos filling his life. 

He didn't ask for much. Just to go with style. 

That turned out to be way too much to ask. Of course. 

Out of nowhere, he felt a thunder strike his mind. 

Finally - clarity.

"Gale -", Astarion rushed out of his tent, scaring off the wizard - maybe he resembled a cat more than a dog - wait, focus, "You need to have a spell to fix it, right?"

"This, as in the pants, correct?" 

"Oh, come on - wizards wash their dishes with magic, light their candles with magic, dress up with magic, eat with magic, probably shit, too. So, come on, fix it! This was your idea, after all."

Or the first time that night, Gale's eyes finally seemed focused. Scanning his mind library for any possible match, solution, or ideas, seeming scraped right away, tweaked, changed, only to repeat the process. 

It was just a few seconds but that was enough for Astarion. 

"There is one…legendary cantrip."

The eyelashes felt so heavy for the few blinks. 

"A…legendary, cantrip."

"Correct."

"A legendary cantrip."

"Sort of."

"A   cantrip."

"Third time a charm?"

Astarion hoped the whole world could hear his facepalm. An archmage or whatever, talking about a legendary cantrip that even a three-year-old could do. While it made sense with a thing like washing clothes, the amount of energy he wasted on it being on a level of a cantrip - not only a normal cantrip but a LEGENDARY one, whatever that entailed - made him a tiny little bit, just a notch, frustrated. 

"So," he flinched his hand, "magic away."

"There is an issue."

Of course, there is.

"What is it."

"It's…not written down anywhere. It hadn't been taught for generations. One could even say it's forgotten magic."

No word followed the dumbfounded gasp. Just what sort of powerful cantrip - a cantrip! - could it be?

"It used to be called…
Prestidigitation."

===

Astarion's expression changed, though at least it didn't look as frustrated as the previous responses. It was more on the playful side.

"Darling, if you decide to make a spell that's so hard to pronounce for some, no wonder it's banned!"

How does one ever present a nuance of the lost spells? The story of commoners at the time when magic was well-known yet still not given in hands of humans, seeing those cursed as the first bearers in trials and errors killed, mangled between servers of death and those with morality so broken, you couldn't even see it as anything more than shards you had to cut yourself to pick? Normal, everyday life, taken for some by granted, made so gorgeous and simple with no price at all.

It was supposed to make life a bit easier. To be able to focus on things that actually mattered. A small, novice trick, nothing more. 

In turn - its existence seemed to devour rationality. For some - it felt like cheating on life. Because somehow - those with no power could get back their normality. A candle, lit by an old hand that knows no rest. A child past the speechless age, communicating through symbols. A singer without a voice, telling another tale to the audience beside his window.

How was cheating death, while frowned upon, legal but normality was lost? What made the longing for small convenience inappropriate in a world where you could kiss the devil's dying gasps? 

How once could you present it to someone whose race lived so long, such moments probably only existed within other useless creatures. 

How could he present to a vampire who could have it all, the yearning for normality he turned down before he could ever realise its meaning? How could one explain the sins of humanity in a way not to lose the crumbs of self-worth?

"I think the word suits you." 

He didn't look at Astarion's facial reaction - he turned around and sat down, opening the first book.

"What are you doing?" the other man asked.

"Trying to find the notes. One time, a long time ago, during one of Elminster's cheesy visits, he had told me something important about the cantrip. If I find that, I will be able to figure out how it works."

"Wouldn't you just need to say the name and do- what would it even do here?"

Gale looked up but he focused on Astarion's hair. Even if so similar to the moon shades, the halo from the light made him look… godly. It still looked most gorgeous in warm tones but, this was 

He knew that wouldn't be a complement to the man. But - if this was the face of the silence, Gale would be ready not to mutter another word. Or if he asked to pray - Gale would wonder if he could break his vows to a goddess who beloathed him.

Time is running out. What am I waiting for? She hates me already, so it shouldn't matter.
After he would find the cantrip and fix the atmosphere, he could focus on his thoughts. 

###

What was it called? Ah, yes -
Boredom. Frustration.

…

Anxiety.

It was the middle of the night. The stars shined the brightest and clearest, as the few remaining clouds dissolved into the darkest shades of the night. He had already rewritten the remains of the old speech he had for the next day and he was ready to use it. No actor had rehearsed a play as many times as he had done with the speech. 

Fuck you and fuck everything you've done to me.
Perfect, on point. Nothing needed to be added in. 

Gale, on the other hand, wasn't just skimming through the books as he implied - he was focused, reading the actual as if hoping that one of many books talked about this specific issue they were facing. If not for the limited timeframe, Astarion would have let Gale read through the whole thing. To extend it, he tried out the other suit he 'borrowed'. 

He looked great in black. But it didn't feel the same. It was the exact same type but he had his mind set on it. He changed the top piece to the red one and…Still, it wasn't the greatest match. At least it was some last resort. 

As he unbuttoned the top piece, he turned around to look at Gale.
Come on, look at it. The right clavicle, then a bit of the left one, exposed, inviting a gaze in. One button after the other made Astarion speed up the process and turn around.

He started to take off the pants and bent a bit forward, looking in the mirror through where a reflection of his chest should be, on Gale. 

Focused on the task at hand. Not noticing any of his antics. 

This wasn't a good moment for… this.
It wasn't that Astarion missed such touch too much, really. But he didn't know how to confront Gale.

He dressed up quickly into the night clothes and turned around again. The wizard still seemed frozen, like before, lost in the words before him. 

The Mage Hand was still holding the poor, still-wet failure. Astarion wondered if he should have just gone for the blood clean-up way - cold water, slow rinse, and only then warming up the water to get rid of the stink could have worked way better. It was a bit too late to try that, though. 

The stars shined so brightly. Yet they never burnt Astarion - it was the single one he still couldn't believe he had a chance to bathe in its glory. And just in a day, after he would intervene in his ex-Master's ways, he would be able to walk in it, without a need for the bug behind his eye.

He side-eyed the wizard and wondered just what was going on in that head of his. Gale was a rather easy guy to read. There was no subtlety in those eyes - Astarion could tell that the guy wasn't just focused. He seemed daunted ever since they returned to the camp but it only got progressively worse. 

And it made Astarion feel uneasy, too.
Seeing Gale had been stuck on the same book for a bit, he decided to finally do something about it. 

"So… how is it going?" Start simple. See how much they want to open up.

"I've found a great study about the effects of element substitution on the spell quality. I always thought it was a form of disrespect and inexperience oversight but, I've never thought of circumstances of such urgent necessity described here." 

Talking of his interest. A good sign in this circumstance. This meant little needed to be done to keep him engaged. 

"And?"

"I only have managed to read about the nature of Component Pouch and the obvious reasons why such limits are important. It's more of a theoretical read, as no one yet was able to cast a spell without the proper material or legal substitute. But I think it's important to think about it."

And now, show you listen. Remind him about something from another talk. "Oh, since that cantrip needs it?"

Shift of the expression.
Guilt.

"I am still trying to find that out."

He didn't know what made him strike the nerve. Maybe the fact he was 

"Sorry." fell out of Astarion's mouth before he could even process it. Gale only smiled weakly in turn.

Alright - not best but, the small talk was over. The pants, with each ink drop resembling a grain of sand in a clepsydra, reminded him that he had very few hours to begin his plan. What would follow was out of Astarion's comfort zone. But talking to someone for more than a single night wasn't in it. 

So - it was time to improvise.

===

"As much as I enjoy hearing of the nuance of your profession, tell me, what is bothering you so greatly? And pam-pam-pam, no, I stop you right there, I can tell you are about to try to bullshit your way around the actual answer. You seem like a lost beggar who got his last remaining gold stolen by the wind."

Gale marked the page, feeling something heavy in his throat.

"Well, we are about to fight the Absolute. I don't think anyone with such responsibility would in their right mind not worry,"

"It's not that." Astarion shook his head and shifted his head, not making eye contact. Gale decided to look up at the stars before Astarion's voice reached him again. "Don't make me use the little ones to get this out of your brain."

"As if I would let you get in."

"So you admit to hiding something."

Fell right into the obvious trap.

"It's not hiding - you know our mutual goal. And the fact Mystra counts on me…"

It seemed a blessing everybody in the camp didn't wake up to Astarion's snicker. Or at least to how loud it seemed for Gale.

"Is that really what kept you awake for these past few days? She wrapped you around her finger."

"Well! Well-", he repeated, quieter this time, as Astarion stared down at him, "it's been a few years under her so, I still need to make up my mind about… it."

"We both know you made that choice."

Gale lowered his head, staring at the pages before him. It was getting harder to swallow saliva.

"You are really making the tadpoles look promising with that silence."

"As if you had been honest all the time."

Gale's voice grew weaker with each moment. He could feel the sides of his eyes warming up, as it definitely was getting harder to deal with. Breaths Tara taught him were not working, as the tension on his occiput was making a headache developing. That or the fact his vision started to blur, might have done something with it.

"Not everybody needs the truth. Some aren't ready for it."

"So maybe you are not ready for mine."

He could feel his breaths go heavier. He didn't realise just how dry his throat had been. Words before him existed, but his eyes couldn't focus on any. They became symbols, ones he couldn't read anymore.

"Stop being dramatic, I'm trying to help."

Gale didn't need to look at Astarion to notice the guy got closer. It had to do with the rapid motion of getting the book out of the wizard's face, as he didn't want to get the paper soaked.

It's been so long since he let himself do it. He couldn't remember the last time someone else had witnessed him in such a sorry state. Typically, he could hold it in enough for no one to notice. But he held these tears for so long, it felt like a valve breaking. He didn't wail, he didn't want to wake up anyone else. 

The Mage Hand swiftly grabbed the pants between two fingers and picked up the book to put it on one of never read piles. 

The shakiness of his breath matched the soft sounds of the waves crashing on the port bricks. He wanted to mutter an apology for Astarion to have to witness him in such a state but he couldn't trust his voice. It felt as if the wind would pick it up and leave, and he wouldn't be able to find it again. 

He could imagine so clearly how he cried for the first time and his mom's reaction. Her soft expression and how she modulated her voice fell in huge contrast to Astarion's confused and dazed face.

As he finally felt that his vocal cords could serve him, he finally spoke again.

"I…should have a dilemma. But not the one I have."

###

Astarion had already accepted that the night was one of those 'not great' moments so, the fact his improvisation went badly, he wasn't surprised. The tears were something he didn't exactly expect.

"Dilemmas like what?"

"You know - the choice between death and forbidden survival. That should be in my head. I should be thinking about it throughout these days. But I feel I've made my choice the moment I was given it. Maybe even before. What I can think of is her stare. How Mystra looks through my failures. I can feel the disappointment I know too well." Gale gulped his shaky breath in, trying to keep any remaining tears from pouring out. "I wasn't just her chosen. It was the world that picked me up and held me dear. I was given something many could only dream of. Nobody could ever understand how burning the embrace felt. It overstimulated and consumed my mind, body and soul. A human, walking on this earth with the power on the level of gods. If I wasn't powerful enough, Mystra would have never given me a chance. Living beside gods will always leave an imprint on your psyche. And in the end - I was too prideful. It feels like a betrayal. The untold promise of greatness I will never be able to deliver again."

Irritation only kept growing in Astarion's voice. "You're not a postman to deliver services." 

"What am I then? Because, till now, I feel I've only been bringing up unnecessary burdens. Like the Orb - wasting some of our most cherished possessions."

"That's not true, you've been eating the most useless and cheapest ones these past few times."

"That's not what you've said before."

"Um," Astarion lifted up his butt and straightened his back "Well, I don't remember saying something like that." 

"Your memory is awful." Gale snickered.
Good. Finally, at least a bit of playfulness. 

"No, my memory is just fine. It's not my fault history is horrible. Ask any historian about it - to make it worth telling, it needs some enhancing. Some glow up! Or - at least, a clear look instead of a starved one."

Gale's eyes, even with the moonshine, were way too red for Astarion's liking. 

"I don't think either one of us isn't starving here."

"I meant metaphorically but, if you want, we have some cheese."

"No thank you. The last time I gave someone cheese, I was told to kill myself."

"You know, this cheese stinks similarly to fish, I'm not hungry for it anymore. But, I know a great replacement for food." Astarion crawled back to his tent and soon enough, got out with a bottle of wine and two glasses. "Tonight has been awful. Let's try to change it before sunrise."

Gale dried the last remaining tear drops into his palm.

"I don't think drinking on an empty stomach will do us good."

"Gale - I want you to look at me, straight into my eyes. Ok, I don't exactly want this but we are dealing with this now. That's the best way to describe the disasters we have been dealing with. And why should we stay sober through it? Think of it as refreshment, because bathing in the sea sure will not do us good." 

Astarion poured the red dry wine for both of them and handed the other glass. Not the correct container for the poison but, it was a good symbol of how the wrongs could be turned into something great.

"I preferred the waterfalls too. I don't know what they're doing with the fish here but it certainly stinks way too strong for the sea. In Waterdeep, you can enjoy the morning breeze just fine."

"Oh? Tell me about it…"

===

It was nice to describe the views that always brought him comfort in the trying times. The town wasn't perfect, and he knew that. But - it was home. It held everything a home should have. Warmth and comfort. Sweet childhood memories, idealised after years of solitude. Familiar sounds of waves crashing in the morning, stealing the never-heard screams of frustration and disappointment. Smells of a favourite dish he had yet to learn to make, for days just a memory or illusion didn't feel enough. The right consistency of the sand under his feet. An old librarian's smile, happy to lend him a book they've searched for multiple months together. 

And then - was it a letter, or just a given word? He typically remembered everything about that moment, yet somehow, it escaped him as his eyes locked with Astarion's for what felt like an eternity. 

It felt so bittersweet how he couldn't imagine himself witnessing this level of beauty after everything was done. 

He died the day he was noticed by her.
The choice was never there. He wanted to make himself believe he didn't make up his mind the moment he was given this task. After all, that was what his teammate expected. 

Tara would be sad. She would mourn him with his mother he hadn't been able to face for so long. 

So why… wasn't he having second thoughts about it? He accepted it. Where was the pride that stained his whole career? Telling him he could still show Mystra he could be great, that he deserved forgiveness?

He started to describe the way the sun's position changed the look of the place from his balcony. The morning pinks, the noon's yellows, afternoon oranges, and the evening reds.The cloudy days didn't need to be talked about. He hoped he wasn't waking up with any envy. He just wanted to share these sights with another. He longed for it. 

He should have found some self-preservation on their journey. Any survival instinct kicking in the moment of his debut, would be too late. His intelligence level felt lower than that of a rock. Any animal would know the time came long ago. 

The wine coated his tongue with a thin layer of wood-like flavour. Oak, maybe? He couldn't focus on it, nor on the things he was saying. He was too focused on the image it represented. His library, in the tower he hid himself in from the world, somehow, lost all warmth. There, too, were books that he didn't get to read.

So much knowledge, never respected enough. He should have read them instead of staring at the wall or laying in his bed without any rest. If he couldn't even do that, maybe it was better that he didn't get stained by his hands. Or even by the Mage Hand that was still holding onto the pants. 

Gale didn't even notice when hunger and pain became the main subjects of his talk. Maybe it was the fact he could remind himself of times he didn't let his trusty Tara into his bedroom, as he felt too self-conscious of his filth. She did so much for him and he couldn't do this one single thing - want to survive. 

"Pitiful, I know. And archmage, weeping in his lair over how stupid he is."

Astarion took a sip from his glass. Gale wasn't sure if it was still his first or fourth glass but he didn't count how much he drank either. Probably not enough to make him shut up about unimportant things. 

He knew the amount of alcohol in it wasn't enough for him to get drunk. He tried it long before. What he achieved was a moment of clarity of how much of a husk of his past self he was, or at least its glorified image still stuck in his head. 

###

Astarion never expected what a pathetic drunk Gale was.
Pathetic was probably not the correct word. Sad. Miserable. Maybe lost. Burnt out. Tired. All of the above. Though, pathetic also seemed to fit. 

That makes two of us.

Waterdeep sounded nice. A small town, on the surface, as the reflection of a sunrise welcomed you nearly every morning. The island sounded not too bad, either. The balcony too, seemed quite lovely, at least the image made in his head. A bench, a nice summer breeze, a book of some sort, just long enough for the break between travels. 

Maybe he could visit Gale sometime after everything was done.

It was weird how he was still sipping the first eight of the glass. Typically, he would be halfway in already but, trying to piece together the feel of Gale's home. It was probably due to the pissful taste of the wine. He just wanted to get rid of it from his collection and Gale didn't seem to mind.
And there was a possibility he wouldn't get to see it, ever. He would never be invited in. 

Something about such a small detail - hurt.
He was told many fantasies throughout his life. How one would run away with him. How he would be given a chance to live a calm life, or one of adventures with yet another face he wouldn't see the next morning. Many soft and not-so touches, when Gale seemed to even try to move away from him when he played with the collar of his nightshirt.

What was he doing wrong? What made him for Gale so unapproachable? 

Typically, this was a moment for some bold moves. But this wasn't his 'typical' evening. He didn't want it to be. He wanted that life to be in his past. But it deeply frustrated him, how he didn't know what else he was supposed to do. 

It felt as if the power over him was still lingering in the shadows. He kept reminding himself it was just the itch of hunger for power.

Once he ascended, everything would be good. He would be there and help Gale properly. Because his known method seemed to only make it worse. 

Astarion couldn't focus anymore on the new waves of self-hate Gale was throwing at him. He was the one who suggested partying but - this was the opposite of what he wanted. Which, once again, was expected of the night. 

Alright, enough self-pitting was enough.

"What if you showed it to me?"

===

Gale slowly turned his head to Astarion and popped his lips.

"Showed what?"

"Your place. As a wizard, you probably have some ways to do so."

"Sure, it can also cut a beard." He rubbed his hairy chin. 

"So can you?"

"Yes. I can show it to you."

Gale left the empty glass on the floor and straightened his arms above his head, yawning with all his might. He was surprised it took his body so long to realise how tired it was but, maybe he just ignored all the soreness before. Standing up, feeling his knees not wanting to bear the weight of the universe on themselves, he felt lucky that he still had that Mage Hand around to support his back. Or that Astarion has helped him balance.

"I didn't know you were such a light drunk."

"I'm not. Crying makes me dizzy. The headache is not getting better."

Astarion's voice got closer to his face, and Gale didn't dare to open his eyes yet. 

"Maybe you shouldn't have drank, then. I will figure the pants out and-"

"No!" Gale didn't even know what he was trying to grab with his hands. "No. I will figure it out. I should have just said you looked pretty."

"I didn't ask you just to give me a generic response. I asked you what you thought, and you did so."

"I mean it though. You looked pretty, I just wanted to make sure the clothes wouldn't have taken away from it. And you can see the rotten fruits of that truthfulness. That outfit obviously mattered to you."

Was his forehead pulsating? Or was it his heart beating inside his skull?

"It does. I need it for him to see me."

"Cazador." 

The name shouldn't have left his mouth so easily. Astarion's forehead wrinkled as the man sighed, gently shaking his head, as if to get rid of an image Gale's words brought. 

"Yeah. I wanted to show him I'm worthy of taking his life."

"For what purpose?" Gale felt himself moved, hands travelling on his back, putting him back down on the ground.

"For the same one you want to die."

"I don't want to."

"So what do you want?"

Even with eyelids dropped, the eyes burnt once again.
Astarion repeated the question. 

The wind blew a cold breeze, trying to calm him down.
It would have been nicer if it was Tara's warmth. 

"What. Do. You. Want." Elf's demanding tone couldn't go unnoticed.

"What do you want?" 

"I'm the one asking you questions."

"I want to know your answer."

"We are not playing this game."

"We are, I think. What game is it?"

"A childish one."

"Isn't that who games are for?"

"No - not the ones I know."

"And what do you know?"

"Many I don't wish to play. But, I also know a trick."

"You probably know many. Any you want to show?"

"Yes, one. How to wake up a drunk."

"That isn't-"

Gale blinked rapidly, feeling the wine drenching his shirt.
Great. Another stain he couldn't clean.

"And what did you do that for?!"

"What's your dilemma?"

Gale couldn't see Astarion clearly, but his voice was hurting him enough. 

"What dilemma?"

"The one you are actually having."

Gale could feel something behind his skull cracking. Or maybe it was inside. Was it his heart? Something, for sure, was not going well.

"Which book I wanted to read for tonight."

"Is that really it?"

Not like that. Not when he's at his most vulnerable.

"This was a hard night for us."

"Gale. What is it."

Mystra would despise him.

"Horrible, even."

"I will use the tadpole."

"You won't."

"I will dig your eye out."

"Then get your tips from Volo."

"Gale."

"Why out of every night, did you decide to be so mean to me today? I can't do it."

There it was. Silence, again. It helped with whatever he felt in his head.

"Do what?"

"Nothing important anymore."

"Nothing important makes you cry?"

"Yes."

Maybe the headache was Astarion's attempt to connect to him. Maybe that was it.

"Too late," Gale grunted. 

"For what?"

"For my decision. I should have done it sooner."

"But what is it?"

"Tomorrow is an important day for you."

Hide. Before it's too late.

"Gale, look at me."

The warmth of his ears was unbearable.

"What is the decision?"

One that came too late.

"I'm sorry I fell in love."

###

What, was probably too light of a reaction to the nonsense he had just heard. If he knew this would be where it would go, he might have done something different. For example, buy a second pair of pants. That would have been probably the best decision he could make.

Maybe today needs to go so horribly for all the bad luck to be used so tomorrow would go majestically.  An important lie. 

But, there was something else he couldn't exactly get out of. He felt this would have been the case but he tried to pretend he couldn't see it happening. 

Curiosity probably killed a cat.
Good thing his dear old friend's death was looking away.

"Who do you love?"

"Torment me, now would you."

Astarion knew the answer but - he didn't want to. He wanted to be wrong.
Because he was supposed to say this all after everything.

Gale, however, wrote his ending starting that night. And it - hurt. Astarion really couldn't think of a better word.

"It wasn't supposed to go like this."

"You're right about that."

Astarion crawled just a bit closer and held one of Gale's fists, as the man tried to cover his still-crying face. He opened his eyes again, to look directly at Astarion. This couldn't go worse.

He waited patiently for Gale to compose himself. Because he knew he couldn't trust himself at the moment. What was he supposed to say? 

That's so great to hear Gale actually because I'm so emotionally constipated and I prefer to be playful and ask for your opinion on the clothing because I want to bathe in your crush you've developed for me. That I don't want to get drunk and actually enjoy your rambles of magic? That I don't want you to leave? How selfish I am, no matter what I do?
What would he say to all this? I can barely contain myself anymore. At his lowest, he couldn't even decide to confess. I've made him say words he probably preferred to keep in his grave because that's where everybody who fell for your stupid, horrible tricks you dumb fuck.

"I… am sorry."

Gale tried to say something, but his mumbles were caught in between the quiet sobs. Astarion asked him to repeat it.

"Second time tonight."

"Yeah." 

What to say? What to say…

"I know."

"What?" 

"I know you love me."

Gale turned his face away. 

"Yeah. I could tell as much. But I can't tell what you feel."

"I…"

Breathe in, and out. Improvisation got him at the wrong spot, so, talking straight was what was left.

Oh, come on. He was able to do so before, so you can do it, too. He could feel his hands sweating. Or maybe it was Gale who did. It was getting harder to say.

"I had- well. I… I don't know how you do this."

"Do what?" 

How can his voice keep becoming smaller?

"I don't know."

"Neither do you. I just - I think I fell in love. It feels like it. And- I had to make sure. I watched you outside in battle, in talks, and…

I want to keep bringing you the morning sun. I want to see you smile tomorrow. I will stay by your side as long as I'm useful to you. Even now, I think of how much I respect you for breaking away from your Master. No matter how much power I say I used to have, I couldn't get to that level. I keep imagining how life could be if we travelled together after all this. But Mystra still haunts me. I- I was her chosen. But I don't know anymore if I were her lover. If she saw anything more in me than a wasted potential. And I - I thought she was, hic, she was the love of my life. I don't know what love feels like, anymore. Is it longing for the touch? Is it the warmth I feel, is it the heart that beats so hard it wants to jump out of my chest? What is it? What is love?"

"I- I also don't know! I was told it was a tool!" Astarion felt his own ears watering. "It was always there to end with pain. But - I don't know! I don't want to see you in pain! I don't know how to deal with that though."

He slid his fingers on Gale's neck and the man jumped away. Astarion smirked, feeling relief.
"We can - do that later."

"I know! And that's just - that's so new to me! You don't want to relax through sex, You don't see me as an object! I can tell that much"

"You're much more than that. And… I know it's stupid. I do long for it, but I don't want to give you the same experience you are used to having. I want to bring something different. I want to bring our minds close, without the bodies merging. I would lie if I said I didn't dream of it but… You are so used to it not feeling special. And- and I can't bear that right now. It's selfish, it's gluttony. I want to first, make sure how you feel. I don't want to take you just like you are. I know this could mean I'm wasting an opportunity we might never get again."

"And I'm fine with that."

Astarion cupped Gale's hands, being rather surprised at how cold they felt. 

"You see it as intimacy. I see it as work. But - I want to be able to look at it through your eyes. I want to understand what you see in me that many avoided noticing. I don't trust myself in not hurting you through it. Because if we do anything - I feel I would try to find routine in the act tomorrow. I want to enjoy this night, somehow., even after the literal disaster it's been turning into. If I were to rate the top ten worst nights, this one would be close to getting the third, but I can tell we can turn it into one of the best ones." 

Gale chuckled in response. 

"Aren't we idiots?"

And Astarion finally let out a breath. He didn't even notice he held it in the first place.

"We seem to be. Or we are just broken."

"Not beyond repair. We can build anew."

"Is that enough of a reason to keep you alive?"

Gale looked at Astarion, half-lid. 

"I'm sorry my confession is not as poetic as I would want. I'm sorry I am in such a horrible mental space for this. I really wanted to make things better. I know I've wasted time already, not talking about this sooner. But… I can tell we both need to heal."

"We do. I don't know what type of wounds I'm having but you for sure need to ask Shadowheart for some cleanup."

"Hah. Maybe I will."

"So…I am not exactly used to this not ending up in bed. I don't know what to do. But I know I don't want to go the usual way."

"Neither do I. I only confessed once before. And this went over any of the worst estimations I had. Would you…let me try, again?"

"Try what?"

"Talking. Telling. You know."

"You are not doing the greatest job with that right now, dear."

Gale chuckled and sniffed, trying to clean the snore slowly dripping from his nose. 

"I'm not typically like this. I had a whole night planned. I wanted to ask you to join me on a walk today. I have a spot prepared and I am worried the flies might have already started enjoying the fruits. It's so hard to make a sentence, to get everything that's in my head and heart out, in a way it wouldn't be a total mangled mess." 

"When would be the right time for you?"

He stared at Gale's still glassy eyes.

===

The night was so light yet, Gale felt heavy from his words. He wanted to plan tonight how to confess, if to, and when. They had so little time and, he believed Astarion would win the next day but, it would be too hopeful just to leave it to chance. But he didn't regret this as much as he probably should have. 

He would make things work in the end. At least - to give them the choice.

"Right now. I want you to show Waterdeep. I can't make it all better but, I want to at least… show it."

Astarion helped him stand up. He laughed about his knees cracking. Something about that familiar poke made Gale feel even more emotional. He knew now that the hand on his back was no longer the Mage one. It held him so carefully as if he were made out of melting snow.

"Please. Hold my hand." 

Something about Astarion keeping his hold felt natural to him. As if they were at the right place, at the wrong time, in the wrong circumstance. Maybe if the universe had been kinder, they would have already kissed. But love wasn't stored in stereotypical signs. He knew something for sure was going on and, if Astarion would be too scared to commit - he would try to understand. He wouldn't do a good job, but that's what he would get for the horrible confession. 

Though, maybe Astarion was right.

"Now, close your eyes…"

History was meant to be rewritten.

###

The white glow was a bit too strong for Astarion, even with the eyelids protecting his sight. Once he got the command to open his eyes up again, he saw elements of a room emerging. Bookcases and piles of written word separated by colourful patterned thin rugs on top of single herringbone flooring. A fireplace with two chairs, a table with even more books on it, and a desk on the opposite side, with sculptures and paintings surrounding it. 

There was even a piano in there that while it played some Suite, probably longed for a touch of another for a long time.
Was it in tune with real life? Did Gale know how to do so? Astarion would gladly teach him. He wanted to look in it and play a short tune himself, but he worried about destroying this fantasy. 

He wanted to check it himself, in person.
He hoped he would have the chance. 

Gale introduced him to his most cherished place and, before he could invite him to the balcony, Astarion asked for him to describe one of many sculptures before him.

It didn't matter that it was this sculpture in particular. He just chose it because it was the closest.
Gale was obviously nervous and the ability to talk about something one holds so dearly seemed to always calm him down.

Love could be a tool. But Astarion didn't want it to be. He just didn't know how to do so, exactly.

He finally looked down at himself.

He was dressed in a red suit. And the pants seemed good, with darker browns filling in for the lighter shade. 

Whatever that fact made him feel in his stomach was… weird, but nice.
Something he could get used to. If given the chance.

And then came the balcony. As Gale opened the door, a beautiful sunset looked back at him, colouring the ship sales with warm tones.

"I recreated the first sunset we saw together. You seemed to like it."

"I still do."

===

"Well - I'm glad for that," Gale said, trying to remind himself of all the words he had thought for the past few nights. He knew he could make it work.

"Astarion?" 

He looked at the other man. The wind was moving the now golden-looking strains of hair. Gale hoped Astarion could also feel the warmth on his face.

"Yes?"

"I know I didn't do the best job before."

"Neither of us did but, I'm glad you are self-aware. Though, you might be a bit too much."

"Says you."

Astarion chuckled. "Touché."

"I know it's so few days. But - I want to learn to love you. I want to be there with you at your worst, and see you get to your best. I want to see you succeed, I want to mutter words to you that the world that chose me won't even be able to hear. I want to be the sun that will forever shine brightly for you, or at least make it be there. Neither of us is at the exact right spot, but I want to be there for our journey. If you let me walk beside you, or be the wind for your sails.

While I don't wonder much about my death - I think about how my life with you could look if we both got the power we craved for. And it made me realise - I wouldn't want to be a god if I couldn't walk beside you. If I had more time, I would have done this the right way. But I want to, at least, be able to tell you it, on my terms. And to know where we are standing."

"You tell me. You are the one making this illusion."

"And I hope you will let me make it our reality."

Astarion sat down on the bench. Even in the illusion, Gale could feel clearly how much his ears burnt. He had this image in his head for the past few days but this was breathtaking. 

It felt like the previous, dark, dim image of this place never existed.
That the future could be bright.

If they survived, that is.

###

Gale looked good when he was as relaxed and calm, with not much sign of worry on his face. 

They were in horrible circumstances for all this. And even if, for a moment, Astarion wanted to bathe in this comfort, his mind kept on racing. 

Typically, he would give in. So what held him this time?

"Tell me, Gale." He invited the man to sit down next to him. After the wizard had done so, Astarion continued, "Do you really think this is a good idea?"

"I do, I'm sure of it."

"And I want to be sure, too. But - this is all so… alien."

"More than the Illithids?"

"In a way. Tomorrow - I will kill a man who destroyed my view of this. I…I don't know."

"Astarion. I need you to be sure."

"Tonight has been so rough for us and this - feels sudden."

"I know. I know that and I'm mad about it. But we have to work with what we have."

Gale softly glided his fingers on Astarion's palm. Their faces were so close but, somehow, they only stared at each other, before Astarion put his hand on Gale's shoulder. 

"I think you were right. If I did a good job with the inking, the pants would have looked so much better."

"I'm still sorry for that."

Gale softly brushed through Astarion's hair. A spike of anxiety soon dissolved as he focused on the circular motion Gale was making. There was something nice about the lack of expectation in something more. 

"Don't be. I was the one who made them worse in the end."

"I could have held my comment in."

"And I could have stopped pestering you about the love confession. And yet - here we are."

Astarion squished Gale's hand and looked into his eyes.

"Gale - I hope you know I will say this sincerely. I don't have a single clue how to walk through all this. I can seem experienced but I assure you - that's just an act. But even with all the uncertainty. I want to figure it out. I want to grow, with you, by my side. I want to make you happy. I'm sure we will stumble here and there but - I'm ready for it, and hope you are too. We will figure it out."

Two creatures, starved in so many ways. Used by something higher that didn't care about their well-being. Yearners for greatness. And-

Apparently for food, since Gale's stomach growled. 

Something about the wizard's flushed and nervous expression made Astarion laugh without care. This was so absurd. In the world of fantasy they lived in, outside of the horrors they had to face,

 The night was truly something he didn't expect.

"Maybe that's the real culprit of this whole thing. Hunger likes to drive us into magical spaces."

Gale let go of Astarion's hand and stood up, while Astarion's heart fell. What did I do wrong? Maybe I should have done something. This was too nice to be true. What just-

===

Gale cupped Astarion's face and felt his face stretch into the biggest smile. The dazed expression the elf made was adorable and only made the energy he felt inside him grow. 

He felt he solved the mystery of the universe. 

"I know which book it is in."

He closed his eyes and a book materialised on Astarion's laps. Gale kneeled before him and skimmed through the pages, to finally find that one poor page stained with grease from Elminister's cheesy hand.

"This is it. This is his theory on Prestidigitation. I will fix your pants."

He looked up and felt his facial muscles hurt over how much he was smiling. Only then had he realised the position he was in.

Maybe it wasn't the moon all this time that made Astarion's eyes shine.

Gale felt like he was the one reflecting Astarion's brightness.

He wouldn't mind being the man's moon. 

"Well then - what are you waiting for?"

===

Gale unfolded the pants and immediately looked at Astarion. Words somehow left him but, shared silence felt warm enough and telling enough. He handed it over to Astarion and turned around, letting the man change in peace.

That, however, seemed not to align with Astarion's plans.

"Your telescope."

"What about it?" Gale let Magic Hand hold the book with the note to write the spell down into his Spellbook.

"It's very telling where it's placed. Come on, take a peek, you pervert."

"Ah!" Gale turned around and immediately regretted the decision, feeling his face flush immediately. He quickly turned back to the book. "Well, look who's talking!"

"Oh, come on. I need you to look if there are any stains I can't see, darling~"

"Please call me that only when you mean it."

"I assume you would want it to be an exclusive?"

"No comment. We can figure it out."

"We can, and we must. I will not get you drunk again to question you. I am not looking forward to Now, chop chop, my ass doesn't like to be cold for too long."

Gale sighed dramatically and looked through the telescope after Astarion finally finished dressing up. Damn. He didn't notice before just how it was perfectly in line with the mirror.

"How does it feel?" 

"Well, it's soft, a tiny bit too tight around some spots but it's nothing I can't manage. I'd say it's even better like that, it shows my features well." 

"No, I mean… Being seen through."

"Excuse YOU?! Just because I don't have a reflection doesn't mean I'm seen through! You're the one that is!" 

Gale no longer cared if their antics would wake up others. This felt nice. It felt as if all the tension was gone. It would return soon but, not having to hide with his feelings, and the possibility of everything turning better, made him calm down.

The world might have chosen him. But he chose someone else.

The night was similar to the others. The stars were slowly disappearing into the reds of the sunrise. So, they decided to watch it together. A simple jump spell, the roof of the cathedral, and a telescope felt like enough.

"You know that these stars have different names?"

"What sort?"

Astarion introduced him to a few vampire stories. Constellations that blended ones he knew together into stories he never had the chance to explore further. He hoped he would get to. There were many tales he needed to yet understand.

As the dawn came, others started to wake up. Astarion stood up and held out his hand to help Gale stand up. 

"You will do great today."

Astarion snickered. "There is no other way. Get in, kill, and win."

Gale knew it would be more nuanced but - that was something he and others would need to worry about. 

As he cast Feather Fall and watched Astarion jump down to prepare for the day, Gale let himself yawn once more. The next night felt like one that would finally let him rest. He yelped, hearing his back crack. 

"Mr Dekarios."

Ah. One more surprise.

"Morning to you too, Tara."

He turned around and felt guilt in his guts. He knew she listened to everything he said that night. The Tressym carefully licked her right palm and stretched, kneading the roof's ridge. 

"You know I will always be there for you, with your mother, right?"

He pet her carefully behind her ear.

"I know."

"Good, I'm glad something hadn't left that head of yours. You might want to get some refreshment, though. Preferably with the beard-cutting."

"I will consider your suggestion."

Gale stared at Astarion talking to Shadowheart. He could hear her laugh and regretted he couldn't see the elf's face clearly. Maybe he could get glasses at a market.

"Mr. Dekarios." Tara said between the purrs.

"Yes, Tara?"

"I will respect all your choices, except for the wrong ones."

He chuckled and started to scratch her under her chin. 

"Have I ever made any?"

"I don't think there is a dimension that could fit a list."

He noticed Astarion turned around and started to wave in his direction.

Alright. It was time to go.
To another adventure together.

Hopefully, not their last one.