Chapter Text
Gale
The first thing Gale noticed was the weight of an arm draped over his waist and the press of a body against his back. Astarion. A small smile tugged at his lips. He turned carefully, seeing Astarion's face inches from his own. The vampire's eyes were closed, his features relaxed in a way they rarely were when he was awake. There was no trace of the frost that had rimmed his eyelashes the night before, no shivering or signs of discomfort. Just peace. He looked younger without tension making lines on his face. It was a good look on him.
Gale stretched slowly, feeling the pleasant ache of muscles well-used. He'd expected to wake up with the weight of his decision hanging over him, the constant reminder of his promise to Mystra echoing in his mind. But there was none of that. Instead, there was a lightness in his chest, a sense of anticipation rather than dread. He'd promised Astarion he wouldn't die today, and somehow, that promise felt more important than any other.
He carefully extracted himself and sat up, running a hand through his hair. The tent was dim, the odd light from the moonlantern filtering through the canvas in a soft glow. He looked back at Astarion, seemingly asleep, rather than trancing, his silver-white hair tousled against the pillow. Gale reached out, gently brushing a strand away from Astarion's face. The vampire stirred slightly but didn't wake.
Gale got dressed quietly. He cast Prestidigitation on Astarion's armor, warming it to make it more comfortable for the vampire to wear when he woke. As he did, he found himself hoping that tonight might be a repeat of the previous evening. The thought brought a genuine smile to his face, one that didn't feel forced or hollow.
Astarion stirred again, his eyes fluttering open. He looked up at Gale, a moment of confusion crossing his face before it cleared, replaced by a soft smile. "Morning," he murmured, his voice still rough with sleep.
"Morning," Gale replied, his tone lighter than it had been in weeks. "How are you feeling?"
Astarion stretched, the motion fluid and graceful. "Better," he said, sitting up. "Much better."
Gale nodded, handing Astarion his warmed armor. "Here, this should help with the chill."
Astarion took the armor, his fingers brushing against Gale's. "Thank you," he said, his voice soft. There was a moment of silence, a shared look that said more than words could. Then Astarion began to dress.
As they prepared to face the day, Gale found himself stealing glances at Astarion, a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with magic. Today, he wasn't dying. Today, he had something to look forward to.
Gale stepped out of the tent, Astarion close behind. The camp was already bustling with activity, the party members going about their morning routines. But as they emerged, the atmosphere shifted. A hoot from Karlach, a wolf whistle from Wyll. Gale froze, heat rising to his cheeks. He hadn't considered the lack of subtlety from the night before.
Astarion, however, seemed unfazed. He stepped forward, a smirk playing on his lips. "Something on your mind, Tav?" he asked, his voice dripping with amusement.
Tav grinned. "Just impressed, Astarion. Didn't know you had it in you."
Astarion laughed, a sound that was both genuine and mocking. "Oh, please. You should talk, Tav. Wyll." He turned to the human, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "We've all had to listen to you two for weeks. It's like listening to a pair of howler monkeys."
Wyll's face flushed, and he held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Point taken."
But Astarion wasn't done. He turned to Shadowheart and Lae'zel, his eyebrow raised. "And you two. I've heard quieter battles. What exactly are you doing in there? Wrestling?"
Shadowheart's eyes narrowed, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. "You'd like to know, wouldn't you?"
Lae'zel just scoffed, crossing her arms. "At least we don't sound like a pair of mating cats."
The camp erupted in laughter, the tension broken. Gale watched as Astarion bantered with the group, his eyes sparkling, his gestures animated. He was enjoying this, enjoying the attention and the laughter. And Gale found himself enjoying it too, a warmth spreading through him as he watched Astarion shine.
Astarion turned back to him, his eyes meeting Gale's. There was a softness there, a shared joke that passed between them. Gale felt a smile tug at his lips, a real one. He hadn't expected this, hadn't expected the ease or the comfort. But he found himself grateful for it, grateful for the normality of it all. They broke camp soon and resumed their search for a recognizable landmark.
The landscape was as bleak as ever, the skeletal trees and desiccated shadowroots a constant reminder of the necrotic energy that permeated the air. But despite the gloom, there was a lightness in his chest, a warmth that had nothing to do with the sun hidden behind the perpetual twilight.
He stole a glance at Astarion, the vampire's lithe form moving with an elegance that belied the harsh terrain. Astarion caught his look, a smirk playing on his lips. Gale quickly cast Prestidigitation, warming Astarion's armor once again. The vampire's smirk deepened, a silent thanks conveyed in that teasing curve.
Gale couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation, a spark of joy that was foreign yet welcome. He suspected Astarion was plotting something; the vampire had a mischievous glint in his eyes that hadn't been there before. But Gale found he didn't mind. Whatever Astarion was planning, he was sure it would be interesting, if nothing else.
Hours passed, the party trudging onward through the desolate landscape. The moonlantern's light flickered, casting eerie shadows that danced at the edge of his vision. Gale kept his focus on Astarion, on the way the vampire moved, the way his hair caught the light. It was a distraction, a pleasant one, from the harsh reality of their surroundings.
As they crested a hill, a sight greeted them that made Gale's heart leap. Nestled in the valley below was an inn, a beacon of hope in the midst of the Shadowcurse. The inn was surrounded by a shimmering dome of moonlight, a protective barrier against the necrotic energy that plagued the lands.
The party made their way down the hill, their steps quickening with renewed energy.
Gale watched as Jaheira, the legendary Harper, evaluated them. The famous hero was imposing despite her small stature, her shrewd eyes missing nothing as she interrogated them about their intentions, their tadpoles, and their purpose here Wyll's diplomacy and Karlach's earnestness seemed to gradually win her over. When Jaheira finally nodded her acceptance, she signaled to the guards, who stepped aside to grant them access to what they now understood was the Last Light Inn—the final safe haven in the Shadow-Cursed Lands.
As they stepped through the entryway, Gale noticed Astarion visibly sigh with relief, his shoulders dropping from their tense position. The vampire's face transformed as they entered the radius of the moonlit dome that covered the entire compound.
"Much better?" Gale asked, pulling Astarion slightly aside while the others moved forward to investigate the inn.
"Infinitely," Astarion replied, his voice light and almost musical. "The pull is gone. Completely gone." He flexed his hands, examining them with a pleased expression. "No more ice in my veins. I feel... normal. Well, as normal as I ever get."
"That's excellent," Gale said, genuinely pleased. "The shadowcurse must not penetrate this dome."
But even as the words left his mouth, Gale felt an unwelcome pang of disappointment lodge in his chest. With the shadowcurse no longer affecting Astarion, there would be no need for shared body heat. No excuse for tonight to mirror the previous one. He'd have to return to his solitary tent, alone with his thoughts and the weight of his obligations.
Astarion's eyebrows shot up, a knowing smile spreading across his features. "My, my, Gale of Waterdeep," he said, his voice dropping to a silky whisper. "Are you actually disappointed that I'm no longer a shivering mess? Missing our little arrangement already?"
Heat rushed to Gale's face—he'd clearly been far more transparent than he'd realized. He opened his mouth to deny it, but no words came. The vampire's amused expression only deepened, and Gale felt his embarrassment intensify.
"I—that's not—" Gale stammered, realizing that every word only confirmed Astarion's suspicions. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he thought he'd long abandoned. "I'm glad you're feeling better," he finally managed, the words sounding hollow even to his own ears.
Astarion's laughter, soft and genuine, did nothing to ease Gale's mortification.
Astarion glanced around the courtyard, his eyes settling on something behind Gale. "Come with me," he said, taking Gale's arm and pulling him away from the center of the inn's compound.
Gale followed without resistance, curious. Astarion led him away from the main building, past where Karlach was enthusiastically embracing a square-jawed, handsome tiefling—the blacksmith Dammon, if Gale recalled correctly. They continued behind what appeared to be a small forge, partially hidden from view.
"Astarion, what are we—"
"You don't need to apologize," Astarion interrupted, his voice gentle but firm. Before Gale could respond, Astarion leaned in and kissed him, a teasing brush of lips that left Gale wanting more.
"I wasn't—" Gale began, then stopped himself. "Perhaps I was. I just didn't want you to think I preferred you suffering."
Astarion's lips curled into a smile. "I know." He trailed a finger along Gale's jaw. "I have a proposal for you."
"A proposal?" Gale raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself.
"We can spend tonight together," Astarion said, his voice dropping to that silky whisper that sent shivers down Gale's spine. "But only if you promise me that tomorrow, you won't die."
Gale blinked, taken aback. "You're bribing me with... intimacy?"
"Is it working?" Astarion asked, his expression mischievous but his eyes serious.
Gale studied Astarion's face, suddenly understanding. "And I suspect you'd offer the same deal tomorrow night, and the night after that."
"Clever wizard," Astarion confirmed with a slight incline of his head. "Either way, the choice is yours. Anytime you feel like dying tomorrow, you can spend that night alone."
Gale couldn't help but laugh, a short, surprised sound. "That's... manipulative."
"Oh, absolutely," Astarion agreed cheerfully. "But effective, I think."
A moment of silence stretched between them, charged with something Gale couldn't quite name. Astarion's expression softened slightly.
"It's ironic what I'm about to say," he said, his tone wry. "But I have no desire to bed a walking corpse, not now that I don't have to anymore. If you're determined to die, Gale, do it without me. I'm too busy trying to live."
The words hit Gale harder than he expected, a blow to the center of his chest. He'd been so focused on his purpose, his destiny, that he hadn't considered how his choices might affect others. Especially someone like Astarion, who had experienced the inevitable and immediate death of those he slept with in a way Gale could only imagine.
"So," Astarion said, his voice light but his eyes intense. "Do we have a deal? Where am I sleeping tonight?"
Gale tried to gather his thoughts as Astarion wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him closer. The vampire nuzzled against his neck, his lips ghosting over Gale's skin, then moved up to whisper something in his ear that made his face warm. This wasn't fair. How was he supposed to think clearly when each breath against his skin sent pleasant shivers down his spine?
"You're cheating," Gale accused, his voice lacking any real censure.
Astarion's laugh vibrated against his neck. "Absolutely," he agreed without a hint of remorse. "And I'll continue to cheat, if it means you'll live." He pulled back just enough to meet Gale's eyes, his expression shifting to something more serious. "I don't feel sorry about it. Not even a little."
Gale stared at him, a strange realization dawning. Here he was, annoyed that someone was trying to manipulate him into not killing himself. The absurdity of it washed over him and left cold clarity in its wake.
What did it say about his state of mind that he resented someone fighting for his life? And what did it say about Mystra, who had done the opposite—leveraging his devotion to her, his love for her, to convince him that his death was a fair price for forgiveness?
The contrast was stark. One urged him toward death, the other toward life—and he'd been so certain the former was the nobler path.
Gale made his decision then, a quiet but firm resolve settling in his core. He might not know what path he would ultimately choose, but he knew he wasn't dying tomorrow. Or the next day. He would live long enough to figure out what living might actually look like.
"We should go," he said, a hint of wickedness entering his voice. "I think we could slip past Jaheira's meeting with the rest of the party and claim a room before they're all taken." The suggestion felt deliciously rebellious after years of dutiful responsibility.
Astarion's eyebrows rose, a slow, pleased smile spreading across his face. "My, my. Are you proposing we skip out on important strategic discussions to engage in... extracurricular activities?" His grin widened. "I'm a terrible influence on you."
"Yes, you are," Gale agreed, not at all bothered by this fact.
Astarion glanced toward the main building, where they could hear Jaheira's voice rising as she addressed the group. "How many rooms shall we claim?" he asked, a teasing light in his eyes.
Gale met his gaze steadily, feeling more certain than he had in a long time.
"Just the one."