Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Well, even under the best of conditions, Astarion, searching an area of water like Grey Harbor would be tricky, but adding in the influx of Sahuagin drawn by the brain matter in the harbor, it is positively an unheard-of challenge. Precisely the kind of endeavor that a scholarly mind should be applied to. A lovely change after so much walking and fighting these past months."

Gale couldn't contain his excitement, and Astarion grumbled inwardly as those bright eyes and flushed cheeks drew him in, as they inevitably did, making him feel things he resolutely should not be feeling, and so he wasn't feeling them.

"Tomorrow shall be an early morning, or perhaps I should say a very late night tonight, because I will be meeting with the pre-eminent scholars of the harbor and its topography. Hopefully, with their assistance, I'll be ready to begin diving soon. I'll be searching the floor of the harbor using a quadrant approach. With the mathematical formulas I worked out with Saer Limeleech, it shan't take me more than perhaps half a year to find the crown in its entirety!"

Astarion noted that Gale was once again walking forward, but looking over at the harbor on his right. He suddenly spun about with all his exhilarating vampire speed, no longer suppressed by the tadpole, coming to a sudden stop directly in the wizard's path. He giggled as Gale walked directly into him, nearly fell, spluttered, and then crossed his arms with a frown.

"Again?!?" Gale's eyes tightened, but the lovely flush that kissed him from hairline to collarbone told the vampire he wasn't all that angry. Just a lovely tease between friends.

And that's what they were. Friends. Gale had said so. Very firmly, on a few occasions.

To be fair, Astarion had pulled this little stunt every night now for a tenday. A normal person might begin to react, pay more attention, but not Gale. Astarion snorted most decidedly unnattractively. Now that he was free to, he'd decided to do at least one unattractive thing each night.

Because he could. Because he enjoyed it. Because there was no one he wanted to attract anyhow. Certainly not any wizard who was only his friend, because that would be ludicrous.

Friends were far more important. Friends stayed. Friends mattered. They didn't disappear because you pulled too many pranks or got angry or ran rather than cried.

"You make it far too much fun." He grinned at the wizard. "Where's Tara? She'd agree."

"She would not. She is very concerned with propriety." He rolled his eyes. "Besides, she's taking a well-deserved nap after ridding us of those rats earlier today. Since you've decided such fare is beneath you."

"If you think so highly of it, why don't you make it your dinner for, oh, say a decade, and report back on the suitability of the dining experience? Hmmmmm?" Astarion huffed, already bored of the activity and the conversation. "We've walked almost four blocks through the lower city, and not one person has been so kind as to even try to mug us. However am I supposed to find my dinner in these conditions?"

Gale gave him eyes that said he wasn't supposed to find his dinner among the people part of the city's population. He returned with a volley of eyebrow that said he had no intention of living off vermin anymore. People-blood made him strong and happy. Astarion was not giving up anything else. Not after giving up the sun for the lives of seven thousand people he didn't even like.

Gale tried countering with big, warm eyes that made something inside Astarion shiver in a rather delightful way - a feeling he was going to think about later - but the vampire shut it down firmly with a folding of his arms across his chest.

"So, Astarion, what are you going to do when I return to Waterdeep and you can't simply follow me around all night?"

Why would he ask that? Was it soon? Had Gale already found that much of the crown? Panic bloomed deep inside the vampire, shaking and nauseating. He wasn't ready to be alone yet. Everyone kept leaving! It wasn't fair! Gale was his friend, his only real friend.

Anger followed the panic. How dare he! What a hideous man to pose a question like that when Gale knew that Astarion was hungry! Obviously, there was only one thing that anyone could do in this situation, so that's what the vampire did.

He made something up, on the spot. Bits and bobs of it had been rolling around in his head since he'd gone to visit his grave, but it formed fully at that moment.

"Well, I've been thinking about birth, rebirth that is. Mine, to be specific. Still dead, of course, but in a way… I've become something new, once more. A free spawn. It feels like the sort of occasion one should celebrate." He laughed lightly. "And of course, I'd never settle for anything but the best kind of soiree the Gate could have to offer."

The last thing Astarion wanted was a big party, but he couldn't imagine another kind of party that was worth having. And if he was going to be celebrated, well, it had to be the kind of celebration other people thought was the best, because he deserved to be respected.

"A birthday party, then?" Gale said. "I mean, a splendid idea, of course, but that will hardly fill your hours."

Astarion had never actually planned any kind of party, but given the way Dufay and the servants used to go crazy for weeks leading up to Cazador's big soirees, he'd been under the impression that making a party happen required immense amounts of work.

He felt the sudden, inexplicable urge to defend how hard this party would be to plan. Sometimes, the others seemed to think that simply because he wasn't familiar with something, it somehow made him stupid. Not usually Gale, but it would seem he'd found one of those rare spots.

"Well, maybe your birthday parties are easy to plan, but I suppose you've had one every year of your boring, short life, darling."

"I'd hardly call my life boring, Astarion."

"But you see, I'll be having my very first birthday party ever, so I'll have to sort out ever so much more than you would." Astarion spun his wrists to emphasize the obviousness of this fact. After all, who would have celebrated it? Cazador? Ha!

"Your…" Gale stared at him like an idiot. Gale Dekarios being at a loss for words felt rather… delicious. Well, Astarion already knew that. But he hadn't managed it since they'd been friends with decidedly no benefits.

"Yes, Gale. Do keep up. My birthday party will require lots of planning, to be the true highlight of the season that it, of course, will be. It cannot be just some boring, common event."

Although what it might be, he had no idea yet. Not a Cazador party. But respectable. Over the top. Wildly lavish, elegant, and expensive. And also representative of what he wanted. Wants.

Astarion nearly groans. He had no idea what he wanted. Therein lay most of his problems right now.

"… of course not. Because it's-"

Oh, Gale was still going on. Ok, time to deflect. He knew this routine well.

"Because common is one of the few things that doesn't suit me, darling." He spun his wrists, dismissing the very thought. "So, I suppose I should get some rest early tonight, then. I feel like tomorrow evening may involve quite a lot of activity for me."

"Should we walk back together? There's no need -" Gale reached out a hand, but Astarion swatted away his instinct to grab it. They were friends. Friends don't grab their friend's hand and pull them into a kiss, no matter how much they want it, or how soft their lips look.

It's not appropriate. Or so he'd been told when he'd made Karlach and Shadowheart explain this friendship thing to him after one too many times of Gale nearly having a breakdown.

"Nope!" Astarion said it quickly, cutting the wizard off before he lost his resolve. "Best of luck on your thing, wizard!" He took off running. Perhaps if he were alone, some kind ruffian might try their luck, right into his teeth.

He grinned as he purposefully headed onto the most dangerous route back to the inn, definitely not thinking about how good Gale smelled tonight.

Gale made it back to the Elfsong around midmorning.

Meeting with the Wavemother after being up all night checking his map of the harbor for accuracy - and finding it quite wanting - had been trying on his stamina. But as much as he wanted to immediately roll into bed, he couldn't hold off. If he wanted to see his plan of surprising Astarion come to fruition, he'd need to start today, and he'd need to rally the others.

As he forced down a third cup of coffee to fight off fatigue, he saw Shadowheart stumble into the taproom, obviously hung over. She nearly fell into the chair across from him, groaning. He silently passed over an empty cup and filled it from the pot of coffee, earning a sly grin despite her squinting eyes.

"I always knew you were my favorite."

He waved over the barmaid and ordered fried eggs and potatoes for the table. Shadowheart immediately became less whiny about everything after she'd had her first cup of the bitter, rich beverage.

This was quite fortuitous, because Gale thought he might, well not explode, although it was still a possibility until he got the crown situation worked out, but burst at the seams with the knowledge he had acquired the previous evening. He had planned to smoothly introduce the topic and then segue to the main course, but Shadowheart spoke up first.

"Ok. Are you going to say it or are you going to vibrate onto another plane?"

"Well, you see, Astarion said something last night-"

"NO WAY! Gale!!!! Darkness abounds! No, not that, but well. Habit and all. But GALE!!!"

Shadowheart was grinning wildly. Pushed her plate out of the way and jumped around the table to hug him. There were tears in eyes, smearing yesterday's eye makeup further than sleep had already accomplished.

Gale could not understand what had her so excited, but he was happy to see his friend filled with such glee. He couldn't help but worry that he may have miscommunicated something. He pushed on, hoping to get to the important part.

"Shadowheart, while I appreciate," he disengaged her arms, watching her slide back into her seat. "I appreciate your enthusiasm and affection, there is more."

"MORE?!?"

His ears hurt a tiny bit after that squeal. He was mystified as to why the cleric was this excited.

"Astarion has asked me to plan-"

"Of course he would! Because he'd want it to be about you. You are one very lucky man, Gale. Lae'zel just jumped on that dragon without even a longing look back at me."

"Me? Why would he want it to be about me? I certainly have nothing to do with-"

"Shadowheart, I hope those are happy screams I was hearing."

"She's perfectly fine, Wyll, but I think she might be a bit hungover."

"I'm fine! Wyll - Astarion asked Gale something last night."

"Oh, what did he ask you, Gale?"

"It wasn't so much in the nature of a question, but rather a pro-"

"Oh! Oh." Wyll stared at Shadowheart, who in turn stared at Gale. he had no idea what had the former Sharran so excited, nor the folk hero turned new Blaze of the Fists so surprised. He'd not even told them the shocking part - that it was Astarion's first ever birthday party.

"Well, we'll have to get the whole crew back together, won't we? No one is going to want to miss this. Not even Lae'zel." Wyll tapped the table, the ring of his office clinking on the wood.

"Ouch. Rub it in, why don't you?"

"Shadow, I didn't mean to imply-"

"It's fine, Wyll. I'm being insufferable again. Old habits die hard and all." Shadowheart aggressively stabbed potatoes on her fork, then stuffed them in her mouth. She mumbled something, but Gale had no idea what she was saying.

Gale sighed. He was exhausted, and it was clear that no one was going to let him finish speaking. Again. Honestly, for all that Astarion complained about his talking, one of the man's most charming qualities was that he always let him finish his sentences. He wondered if his friend was upstairs right now. Sometimes he'd still be sleepily awake right now, drowsy and cuddly.

Gale felt a pang of guilt. He shouldn't take advantage of that just because he longed to hold Astarion close. He'd made a choice, after all. It had been his decision to be friends. And he was right! Astarion needed a friend, still needs him to be a friend, needs him to care without putting his own needs first.

Giving up their sexual relationship had been relatively easy for the wizard. After all, once he'd learned that Astarion hadn't even wanted it, Gale soured on any enjoyment he could have derived. But he had never anticipated how much the simple act of being and holding in return would mean to him. How it soothed his soul in ways little else could. How much he craved that connection.

So, while friends don't do that, sometimes he may have sought out sleepy Astarion's company to do light reading. Knowing that eventually the vampire would curl up near him, even, on occasion, slipping an arm around him as he fell into trance. It was hideous, he knew. A violation of the worst kind.

But Gale had never been as good or self-sacrificing as Astarion seemed to believe he was.

Wyll had stopped by to visit with the remaining residents of the Elfsong suite.

Astarion was off, trying to get into the few shops still open for the evening. Gale was holding the pages of notes the vampire had put together. The handwriting was, of course, gorgeous and precise, but the thoughts were a mess. It was clear that planning this momentous event was going to stress his… friend out.

A good friend would intervene, right? That's why he wanted to do this so badly. Not because he wanted to unduly influence anything. It was purely altruistic. A gift.

He winced. No. He wanted to be the cause of the joy Astarion would surely have, wanted to give him a reason to turn to him and… he stopped even his fantasies. His friend would turn to him and hug him. Or perhaps just give a big, real grin. And really, wasn't that enough? Every time he saw Astarion peel back his mask to smile with real joy was a rare treat for Gale. And that would be enough to make it all worth it. To see his friend truly happy.

"Soooooo. Halsin wants to know when he should plan his trip?" Shadowheart grinned at him. "He doesn't want to miss the big event. You know, there was a bet going for a while on how long it would take. Even Lae'zel thought it would be more than a year."

"A bet?" Gale chuckled nervously. "Seems like an odd thing to bet on. But Astarion hasn't been able to enjoy much of anything for centuries, Shadowheart. Why would I make him wait a day more than necessary?" Gale tucked the notes he'd been staring at in a leather folio. "Plus, if I want to surprise him, I should probably make it sooner rather than later."

"Do you think a surprise is a good idea here? I mean, Astarion strikes me as the type who'd have strong opinions about his big day." A sharply raised eyebrow emphasized the judgement.

"Ohhhh. But a surprise would be so romantic, don't you think?" Wyll grinned. "I'm certain we could inquire about his opinions without alerting him to the plan."

Gale spluttered. "Romantic isn't the point! It's just, well, I don't want him to be so stressed he can't enjoy his special day. Besides, I am an excellent party planner. I have the most attended Solstice parties amongst the Blackstaff Faculty."

"Hmmmm. The best locations are mostly destroyed, sadly. But if you'd like, you could use my house. We have a lovely ballroom and gardens, if the weather is amenable."

Gale blinked. "You have a house? With a ballroom?"

"Well, I mean," Wyll blushed. "It's the Ravenguard Estate. It's mine, now. It's not as big as some of the estates in the upper city, but it is intact and available. Holds about two hundred or so if you want dancing. Or perhaps three hundred without."

"That should be perfect. I mean, I cannot imagine I will find a much better offer, not with the state of the city."

Gale wasn't sure if that would be enough for Astarion, especially since his notes had started with invite the whole of the upper city??? But two hundred was still a grand soiree, so… it would have to do.

"Ok. So let's plan for… a tenday from now?"

"Gale?" Shadowheart raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you can manage that?"

He took in a breath. He had to. He'd never be able to keep it a secret for any longer than that. "Yes. Of course I can. I'll just have to focus."

"Well, alright. I'll let the staff know so they can start preparing the manor."

Gale suddenly realized he'd have to work with the staff. He'd never managed people before in party planning, just his unseen servants.

Astarion's notes were helpful, but also unhelpful. Some of it was simply out of reach. He could not, for instance, afford three bottles of 1462 Berduskan Dark per attendee, if there were even that many bottles available still on Toril. And others were flights of whimsy: ice sculptures in the shape of the monsters they'd fought on the journey, having a team of artists on hand to sketch the event for posterity, the most insane one being 'blood fountain that cannot splatter.'

Gale was starting to panic, and he was only on the first day. Luckily, Wyll had suggested he meet with his Butler, Morris, who seemed to fully understand what he had gotten into.

"So, he's truly never had a birthday celebration before?"

"No. Astarion's life has been, well, complicated. But it's very important to me that this is perfect. He's a very fussy man. Likes his wines of the best variety, his clothes tailored perfectly, and has an opinion about everything. Very high standards."

Morris chuckled. "Oh, don't you worry. Ol' Morris has handled the most extravagant divas among the Upper City crust. I can handle whatever you've got."

Gale wasn't sure anyone had ever encountered the force that was Astarion, but… he gave the man a chance, passing over a copy of Astarion's notes. "I found and copied his notes he had put together of things he might like. Now, our space and budget is too limited for exactly what he describes here-"

"Sadly, we can't fit the entire Baldurian Orchestra even in the gardens. And a blood fountain? I'm sorry, what sort of gentleman did you say our guest of honor was?"

"That would be a few of those things, yes." Gale talked quickly, hoping to distract from that specific conversation. "Ah, but I was able to procure a string quartet from the orchestra to come play the music. We're going to do a mixture of Elven and Baldurian music, as well as some more… lively pieces, for the later hours."

Morris squinted. "Kara-Tur's sound is all the rage these days, or it was, during the party circuit last spring."

Gale nearly growled. "Absolutely not, he's had… let's say a very bad experience with the culture of Kara-Tur."

"Yes, Saer. We will be careful about that, then." Morris took his own notes with neat handwriting. "You'll be needing a cake. Harbreeze is still operating, but I don't know if they'll be able to do a cake like what's sketched here in a tenday. You'll probably have to tone it down a bit. Our kitchen can handle some canapes and such, but if you want a full, seated dinner, you'll have to let me know so I can bring in extra help. At your expense, of course. Not to mention, you will need the invitations done today so that they arrive tomorrow. And you may find that many guests cannot commit with such little notice."

Groaning, Gale pulled a stack of fine, heavy invitation cards out of his satchel, "luckily, I don't need a printer. Perks of magecraft and all. But I do need to decide who to invite."

"I'd imagine everyone is dying to meet the Heroes of the Gate. You know, you're fellow is a lucky man, to have someone so dedicated to his happiness. Don't see that a lot amongst the upper crust."

"My fellow? Oh, no, he's just a very good friend." Gale found himself blushing, which was even more embarrassing than the butler's observation.

Morris gave him a look of disbelief. "Apologies, Saer."

"You want a twelve-tier cake for two hundred people, each tier with two flavors and a filling, fully decorated, each tier depicting a different scene, AND you need it in a tenday?"

Gale gave a small, apologetic smile. "Well, that does about sum up the situation, yes."

"Absolutely not. That is… even if half my staff weren't gone what with turning into mindflayers and having to be killed by the other half of my staff, I couldn't do that."

Gale bit his lip. Harbreeze was the only bakery still standing in the Gate that even made the kind of cake he needed.

"Why don't we talk about what could be done?"

"Alright, son. So, you've really got two hundred people coming for this shindig?"

He nodded. "Well, they've been invited. You see, it's for one of the heroes of the Gate. It's his birthday."

Gareth Harbreeze shifted at that. "Well, I suppose that'll get 'em out of the woodwork. I can do a cake that'll serve two hundred. But four tiers, not twelve. Three scenes, the top will be a dedication cake. You know - Happy Birthday so and so but usually a bit fancier. I can make it all princess cake - I got enough vanilla and raspberry jam. It's that or chocolate. That's about what we got right now and I won't be getting more supplies in time."

Gale nodded. It was quite reasonable, all things considered. But guilt twinged in his chest. How many more things would he have to compromise on? Perhaps the others were right about his timeline being too ambitious.

"So, what's the dedication?"

The wizard blinked, staring at the big man in the apron in front of him. Gareth's easy grin was trained on him.

"Er, what should that top cake say, then?"

"Ah, well, I hadn't considered that there would be a dedication, Saer Harbreeze. I mean, happy birthday is far too simple for a man like Astarion, but … I suppose a poem might be a tad too much?"

The smile on Gareth's face fell a few degrees.

"There's room for six words tops. Maybe seven if some of them are short."

"Ah. Hmmmm."

"Ah, there are six other customers already waiting. I do need you to decide quickly, Saer."

"May your star forever shine."

"A good choice-"

"No. He'd hate it. He hates puns, and it references his name. Ah, if that clown weren't already dead, he might have stabbed him at that circus."

"Dribbles? He wanted to stab-"

"Oh! How about: blessings for another year?"

"That's a nice-

"No. What am I thinking?! He hates the gods. Would you believe he once told Mystra to suck his left testicle?"

The baker gasped, "He did what?"

Gale giggled at the memory. He'd been terrified at the time, given that Mystra literally was holding his life in her hands, but the way Astarion had come into that temple, eyes burning, braver than he'd ever seen the vampire. It had made him rather weak in the knees every time he thought about it.

"Why don't we try: here's to another year of… no. Nope. Not referencing his past."

"I don't want to know. Honestly. Enough. Just tell me something! I mean, there's always good old happy birthday so-and-so."

Gale was irritated suddenly. Mostly at himself. He was known for his prodigious vocabulary, his ability to speak extemporaneously about almost anything, and here he was. Unable to come up with a simple phrase to put on a cake.

"Well, why don't we simply have it say felicitations and whatnot and be done with it!" He threw his arms up in the air and stomped. Then he felt all rather silly about it. It was a cake. Surely, he could come up with something better without needing to have a breakdown.

Gareth grinned, standing up. "Great! All right then. It'll be at Ravengard Manor no later than ten am on next ninth day. Go on then."

Gale tried to protest. Obviously, he didn't want it to say that! But Gareth simply kept pushing him towards the door. And there was a rather long line of people waiting to get in to place their orders. Guilt plunged through him. One moment of irritation and now… if this kept happening, he was going to ruin everything.

Gale was pacing. The party was set for tomorrow. It felt like everything was done, and yet, nothing was done at all. Truly, the only thing he'd accomplished that felt good and right was giving Mystra back the damned crown and getting the orb removed.

The invitations were sent days ago, yet no RSVPs had yet been received.

The food and drinks were ordered, but none had arrived. Only a copious amount of notes about shipments not coming in or stores being ruined by leaking roofs and battles.

He didn't know what to do. Morris assured him that he could manage to fill the gaps in the food and drink with the stores at the Manor, but mostly that was because it appeared that only their little group of adventurers were coming.

He wanted to cry. Astarion wanted a big, talk-of-the-town kind of event. His notes were full of parties he compared it to: Lord Portyr's 88th birthday party two years ago, so well-received that questions regarding his 89th swirled the day after, or the engagement party of Lord Bashir Byron of Athkatla in 1348, still the mark by which noble families set their parties by.

This… wasn't going to be that. It wouldn't even be in the same realm. Once again, he was going to let Astarion down.

Gale's heart was already sinking when the worst news came in. A sending from his contact at the Society of Brilliance. The samples of magical creature blood he had asked about were mostly unavailable. Of the 16 vintages, only 4 had survived the cave-in of the roof. Not nearly enough for the flight he had hoped to create for the guest of honor - a feast Astarion would be able to enjoy.

He did the only thing he could. He had a complete and utter breakdown, and then got back up and began casting the spells to enchant the decorations in the ballroom. A swirl of lights that would make the colors of the room come to life like they were in daylight. Making the room extra warm for his perpetually cold friend. And, of course, making sure the fountain of red wine, not blood, didn't splatter.

A knock on the door of his suite at the Elfsong pulled him out of the end of his trance. A glance confirmed the sunset had begun, but wasn't quite finished.

He sighed, clamoring out of bed and pulling on his robe. He had one of those now, a pretty thing made of pearl-toned Calimshan silk painted with flowers in pinks and peaches. Perhaps in time, owning such things would feel normal, but for now, he still revelled in it.

He still remembered Gale buying it for him the first time they had visited Facemakers. Astarion had eyed it on the mannequin in the corner, thinking it would suit him perfectly, but certain that the price well exceeded the gold he could reasonably spend on something so frivolous. Still, he'd walked over, running his fingers over the unbearably perfect fabric, examining the fine, meticulous stitching. He'd petted it like a cat for the better part of an hour while the others shopped, and then he'd bought a practical couple of new shirts, black to hide the blood, and a few new pairs of hose.

He'd found the robe on his bed that night, wrapped in paper, no attribution other than the racing heart of the wizard and a delicious little flush on his face when he'd put it on after his evening bath and sauntered into the common room to join the others for the nightly planning session. It had been a rather delightful evening, teasing the wizard so viciously.

Another loud knock on the door pulled him out of his lovely memories.

"Astarion, you had better be awake!"

He grinned. Shadowheart was rather worked up.

He opened the door slowly, smirking. "Well, hello there, darling. Whatever brings the god's favorite princess to my humble doorstep?"

"Darkness preserve me, Astarion! Have you forgotten about the party tonight?"

He gave the most innocent expression he could, cocking his head to the side as he pretended to try to remember. "Ah, my apologies, but I don't seem to have any recollection of-"

An angry Shadowheart shoulder-checked him out of the way and stormed into his room. "Go get dressed, Astarion. I'll help you get your makeup on and hair done. We are supposed to be at the manor at sundown and the sun is already on the horizon right now. I can't believe you are going to be late to your own-" She bit her lip. "To Wyll's party."

Of course, he caught the slip. "Oh no, what about this is mine?"

The cleric growled. "The invitation was, and yet somehow you are still lollygagging about in your robe. Where are your cosmetics?"

He paused, taking a moment to note Shadowheart's dress. "You know, I was under the impression that tonight's gathering was a dinner with friends, to celebrate Wyll's first bill passing. Yet, you are distinctly wearing an evening gown."

Not just an evening gown. From what he could see through her cloak, it was a gorgeous thing of black lace, her hair was in an elaborate updo, and she was wearing jewels in her ears. Had he missed something? He had been rather busy planning his birthday party. Perhaps one of the boring diatribes the others had droned on about had held some important information.

"Can't a girl simply want to look her best when appearing at the Grand Duke's house?" Shadowheart turned, digging through his vanity table. "Really? All you have is kohl and rouge?"

"Why mess with perfection?" He purred. "I picked up a new outfit for tonight. A fetching little number in midnight blue."

He picked up the box from the bench at the end of the bed. It had been delivered only that morning, when he was quite exhausted. He had tipped the courier, tossed it on the bench, and fell back into trance. In the bathroom, he tore the twine off the box with a dagger he'd left on the washbasin at some point.

A scream tore out of his throat as he beheld the contents.

Shadowheart came running in as he stared at the frilly, gossamer-thin white garment nestled within.

"What in the Hells are you going on about?"

"This!" He shoved the box at her. "This isn't my outfit. I… I don't know what it is, but it certainly isn't the velvet doublet that I ordered."

"Hmmmm." Shadowheart stared at the garment. "Perhaps you should try it on? You never know, it might just be serendipity."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. Shadowheart was up to something here. He could smell it.

"Oh? Why would you say that?"

"For one thing, that is woven with enough seed pearls to buy a flat near Bloomridge Park. If they delivered it by mistake, it's still yours. And after you wear it, you'll still be able to flip it for a pretty penny."

He looked at the thing again, this time examining it. He picked it up out of the box, finding a dress of such fine construction it took his breath away. Menzoberrazzen spider silk lace in purest white, strung with easily fifteen pounds of seed pearls, layered over sheer Calimshan silk in a pale blush, with long, unlined lace sleeves that floated to the floor, and a neckline that plunged to the navel.

It was breathtaking. And Shadowheart was right, it was worth a small fortune. This had to be some patriar's daughter's wedding dress. Meant to be worn with a bodice under that plunging, bust-baring neckline. But instead, it was in his hands.

He shook his head. "It's hardly an appropriate thing to wear to a dinner with friends."

"And when has that ever stopped you, Astarion? Besides," she smiled knowingly, that infuriatingly perfect eyebrow raising. "Gale's going to be there."

He huffed, but it worked. He imagined the wizard watching him take his cloak off. Scenting the desire that would sweep across the room as Gale's blood bloomed in a beautiful flush. Watching the man shift, embarrassed, as he sported a cockstand that he couldn't hide even in those damnable robes of his that hid the delicious body Astarion knew lay underneath.

"Fine. I will try it on. But it has nothing to do with the wizard."

Ravengard Manor was not all that impressive. For certain, it was in the upper city, complete with a walled garden and various outbuildings, made of stone and all that, but… it was smallish for a manor. Perhaps six bedrooms and room for a dozen staff, Astarion guessed by counting windows and assessing the general layout. He sniffed as Shadowheart gushed about the leaded glass window panes and enchanted lanterns that lit the way without smoke - really, standard issue things for a patriar's house. He expected more from the home of the Grand Duke.

And yet, as he approached the entrance, the familiar tightening of his muscles and twist of his stomach, the anticipatory signs of entering a space he had done so often, not as a guest but a purchase, simply… didn't appear. He watched as servants opened the doors for him, called him Saer Ancunin, bowed, perhaps that was the difference? Not being brought through the back like a delivery, trussed and wrapped for unboxing later?

Then again, he had dressed himself rather like that, hadn't he?

What did you expect, boy, that you could kill me and what you are would just disappear?

He bit his tongue. This was different. HE had decided to dress like this. And no one got to touch him unless HE allowed it. And no one would, because the only person whom he might even entertain an offer from had made perfectly clear that no such offers would ever be coming. They were friends, and so, he was perfectly safe to show up half naked, draped in lace and pearls, and expect to be admired from afar only.

"Astarion?"

He blinked, looking up and realizing Wyll was there in the receiving room. Had been there, given that he was in the center of the room, his horns gleaming with oil and fetching gold chains draping from them, looking every bit both devilish and the Grand Duke he was.

A smile crept over the vampire's face. "Ah, your Grace, my apologies. I was simply overwhelmed by the wonder of your home. I do hope you'll forgive my ill manners." He offered a hand in greeting, and Wyll grinned back.

A slap to his back came next, warm and fond. "Wyll. To you, my friend, I am just Wyll. Now, let's see, did no one offer to take your cloak?"

Astarion smiled shyly. "It's a… surprise. I'd like to keep the cloak on a bit longer. Make a dramatic entrance. You know me, darling."

Wyll winked at him. "Of course. Well, I believe things have just gotten started, so why don't we head on in?"

Shadowheart eyed Wyll, who stared back at her. Astarion noted their silent communication. Paranoia began bubbling up again. Why was the cleric so overdressed? Why would Wyll greet them, and not another functionary? For a party, the house seemed… quiet. Where were the servants, and why couldn't he hear the music that surely would have been filling the space?

Fear began to creep down his spine, settling into that spot just above his tailbone where it liked to live. After all, a corpse that doesn't need to breathe or digest can't feel its fear in shortened breath or nausea, but bone, muscle, and nerve remain present to tighten and twist and weave into panic.

He was fully regretting wearing the dress. He should have just worn one of his other outfits. It was going to be too much. Too much of him on display, too expensive for his standing, the last thing he wanted to do was have any patriars that might be in attendance recognize him from before.

He was going to pay for his vanity, he realized with a sinking feeling.

The house was silent, empty, save for the flicker of candles and enchanted lanterns. It was as though it was fully unoccupied. Then his ear twitched as a tiny sound came through the heavy, fully shut doors to the ballroom. Wyll rested his hand on the handle.

A cough. No, multiple. The sound of shifting fabric, so faint he could only barely hear it. The room was full. Full of people trying their hardest to be silent. He was truly confused now. Why would a whole party full of people be silent, simply waiting for… for what? As much as he often joked that he was the life of the party, it simply wasn't true. He was far from the most important person at such a gathering…

Ahhhh. They were waiting for the Grand Duke. That must be it.

Wyll gave Shadowheart another godsdamned wink, and finally, FINALLY threw the doors open with force.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ASTARION!!!!!"

The collective shouts of perhaps three dozen individuals suddenly overwhelmed his sensitive hearing. He blinked, looking around in bewilderment.

Karlach, newly resurrected and bearing a freshly regrown heart, was smiling widely, waving her arms in the air, with a huge sign that he could tell she made herself, given that his name was misspelled.

Happy Birthday, Astareeun!!!

The little stick figure with fangs next to it was honestly kind of adorable, not that he planned to admit it.

He gave her a faltering grin in return, the wheels in his head clicking into place as everything was suddenly making sense. Gale's sudden disappearances since the night he'd admitted he'd never had a birthday party. Gale's scent all over his planning notebook. The looks and odd comments between Shadowheart, Wyll, and Karlach.

A sudden, overwhelming feeling took him. Gale had done all this, for him, for someone who was only his friend, in less than a tenday. Simply because he had mentioned that he'd never had a birthday party before.

He suddenly had to check the kohl on his eyes with his fingers. Not because tears were threatening to ruin it, it was simply the thing to be done. He took a deep breath, centering himself the way Halsin had so patiently taught him during their long journey, irritated at how well it worked.

There were others present as well, beyond their little gang. Nine Fingers Keene, for one, which was quite a surprise. And Barcus, the newly minted leader of the Ironhand Gnomes. He was quite certain that at least two of the guests were patriars he vaguely recognized from Gortash's coronation, and they were the only people who seemed as confused as he was.

Well, no, because Lae'zel was approaching him.

"Tchk. Astarion, how is it possible this could be your first birth-day? I believed you to be the oldest of our group. Was I lied to?"

With the gith, he never really knew if she was merely curious or if she was offended. And offending Lae'zel was never a good idea. So he didn't give her the scathing response that formed on the tip of his tongue.

"Dear Lae'zel, ah, no, you were not lied to. I am, in fact, 239 years young. But… this is my first birthday party, you see."

She seemed to consider it, tilting her head. "I am glad we killed Cazador. We should have made him suffer more, though."

He grinned, not caring that his fangs peeked out. "That, I will toast to. Now, where can someone get a glass of something around here?"

While he was marvelling at the wine fountain, he scented Gale's approach. Old books, weavemoss, leather, and the sandalwood oil he put in his beard, Astarion found himself already feeling lighter just knowing he was approaching.

"I know it's not exactly a blood fountain, but one must make some nods to social expectations. It is, however, filled with a lovely, rich, and sweet red. Hopefully, it will meet your exacting specifications, my friend."

Astarion didn't even pause, he threw his arms around the wizard, pulling him in tight. Gale sputtered a moment in shock, then wrapped his arms around in return, hesitantly. Warmth suffused the vampire, even through the cloak he still had on, both from Gale's body pressing against his, but also from within, pooling downwards as emotion and closeness brought forth all the feelings he kept trying to ignore.

A graceful pullaway and a small bow, restored his pride somewhat. "Gale Dekarios, you are entirely too much." He smirked. "I…."

The words failed him. What could he even say to all this? To the ballroom decorated not in red and gold and tacky luxury but in blues and greens and pinks, silk buntings and flower petals and enchanted fairie lights. To the enchanted fountain with his second favorite vintage. To the string quartet playing songs that reminded him nothing of the parties where he'd been the entertainment, without him ever telling Gale about what that would be?

"I'm so sorry, Astarion. I really tried. I know, it's not what you wanted." Gale suddenly seemed on the border of tears, his eyes haggard and dark. "I should have given myself more time. As always, my ambition-"

Astarion reached up and placed a finger against Gale's lips, trying hard not to notice how pillowy soft they felt, shushing him. Gale's eyes fluttered a moment, his heart matching, and he flushed as he stopped his diatribe.

"It's perfect, my dear. Everything, is just…" he sighed in satisfaction. "Thank you." He put all of his sincerity into those words, wanting the wizard to fully understand the weight of his gratitude.

"But almost none of the guests came, and the food is a disaster, and the cake, ugh, do not get me started about the cake…"

Astarion rolled his eyes and pulled Gale close again by the shoulders so he could whisper in his ear. "Do not make me kiss you to shut you up. It's my party and I love it, therefore, it is perfect." He pulled back to a Gale who was utterly lovely and pink, a deeper flush than he'd seen on the wizard except for that night in the woods. Only now, now he was capable of enjoying it rather more.

Gale managed to swallow. "Uh, Astarion? Did you still want to be wearing the cloak?"

The vampire grinned, glad for the first time all night he'd let Shadowheart talk him into wearing the dress. He took a few steps back, making sure Gale got the full, dramatic effect, then he unclasped the cloak, letting it slide off of him, catching it in one hand.

All his daydreams of how the wizard would react came true, and he let the unspoken praise wash over him. He also noted appreciative looks from more than a few others, but he couldn't care in the slightest. Yes, Gale was his friend and he treasured that, but… if the stubborn little git would simply change his mind a tiny bit….

Astarion wasn't sure what he wanted with Gale, precisely. Something real, mostly. Perhaps a night or two of passion on top of a wonderful friendship. Or perhaps…

No. He wouldn't get his hopes up over simple lust.

He did a little twirl, letting the wizard get the full effect. "So, what do you think?"

It took Gale almost a minute to make words. That alone was all the praise Astarion might have needed. But then?

"I think you are the most beautiful being that has ever graced this plane, Astarion, and while the dress is stunning, it hardly compares to the man who is wearing it."

The awe and utter sincerity in Gale's voice was more than he could bear, and yet it was everything he needed, everything he craved. How he stopped himself from kissing the wizard right then, only an unlife of carefully built self-control made it possible. He whole being ached with the need of it, but he let his face remain calm, only a small, pleased smile showing.

A servant came by, taking his cloak and offering him a crystal goblet. Gale helped him fill it in the fountain, explaining the magic he'd used to prevent it from splashing onto the guests as they filled their cups. For once, he even listened to the words, making sure to give a hum and even a small question.

Eventually, he did separate from the wizard, somewhat reluctantly, and began to circulate. Starting with Karlach, Shadowheart, and Jaheira, who were gathered around a table covered in novelty-shaped confectionaries, fashioned to look like various berries, flowers, and even insects. The pretty kind - butterflies and bees and all those.

"The getup suits you, little bat." Jaheira said dryly, eyeing a cluster of faux-grapes with suspicion. "Too bad you wasted it on your birthday party."

He looked at Shadowheart, who was suspiciously ducking behind Karlach. The big tiefling grabbed her with an arm around her waist, scooching her back around.

"Ah… well, I may have misheard Gale about what was happening today." Shadowheart said with an uncharacteristic look of shame. "And intervened to make sure you were dressed, um, more appropriately. Out of love! I swear it!"

He narrowed his eyes. "And what in the sweet Hells did you think I needed this particular garment for? Was I to be a debutante, introduced to society in your imagination, or perhaps a bride?" He laughed at the ridiculous notion. But there truly was nothing else this dress would have been used for.

Karlach's face when he said the word bride told him.

He laughed harder. "And who, my grim flower, did you think I would be wedded to today?"

Shadowheart turned a deep shade of strawberry, highlighting the smattering of freckles and the fetching little scar on her nose. "Well, I … I rather thought it was Gale. I mean, we've all been taking bets since the creche on when you two would finally get together, so when I heard Gale say that you made a proposal, I assumed…"

"I proposed planning myself a party." All the joy suddenly evaporated out of him. Had his friends all been simply using him for their amusement? Reducing what he and Gale had down to… simple entertainment??? "And the rest of you, you participated in this notion?" He felt his eyebrow flick up.

Karlach stared at him, clearly catching the building tension in his tone. "Oh, I knew she'd heard wrong, Fangs. For one thing, Gale's invitation said Birthday right on it! But … it was kind of funny, letting her think it was a wedding." The tiefling's tale flicked nervously. "I guess I didn't think about how that might make you feel."

"Well, my feelings are just fine. I just hope I haven't broken the wizard's heart, leaving him alone at the altar and all." He joked, wincing inwardly, wishing… well, not that he was marrying the man, certainly not that, but that, perhaps, that it not be such an absurd notion.

Jaheira popped one of the grapes into her mouth. Based on her face, it went better than she had assumed it would.

He gave the three of them a nod and wandered off back to the wine fountain. His glass was empty, plus he needed to continue making the rounds. As the guest of honor, he was fairly certain he was required to greet everyone. He'd never had to play this role before, though, so he wasn't entirely sure, basing his choice on novels he had read rather than experience.

A whirlwind of greeting everyone passed, names he half-heard and small talk he didn't bother listening to spun around him while he watched Gale scurry about. The man didn't seem to be enjoying this event at all. Which was a shame given that he'd clearly organized the whole thing, and, Astarion assumed, funded it as well. He was well aware Gale was better off than any of them, except perhaps Wyll, now that the Grand Duke had inherited his father's largesse. But still… this was quite an extravagant soiree.

The spiral that was threatening to send him back into panic was called off by the dinner gong.

Wyll found him, leading him out the glass doors to the back gardens. The night was breathtakingly beautiful - a full moon overhead lit the white stone patio, bringing out a natural glitter. Huge pine trees surrounded the space, lending their fresh, clean scent and making it feel quite private despite being in a nearly crowded portion of the Upper City. More fairly lights bobbed overhead, adding soft pinks and lavender hues to the space.

A large table was set up, taking up nearly the length of the paved area, and groaning under the weight of a feast the mortals were excited about. He smiled, happy that Gale had thought of the others, but slightly dejected. At his own party, and still he was cut off from this simple ritual of bonding, the act of breaking bread together.

Wyll surprised him by pulling out the head chair, gesturing for him to sit in it.

"Wyllyam, you are the Grand Duke, and we are in your house. Is this not your seat?" He whispered, unsure of what to do.

"Astarion," he grinned, even more handsome for it, "you are the guest of honor tonight."

He'd not thought about that. Everything felt so… strange. Not wrong. Extravagant soirees and expensive clothes and fabulous feasts were the environment he'd pretended he inhabited for so long, that it seemed like his natural habitat. Yet, here he was, finally getting everything he thought he wanted, and it was awkward and uncomfortable.

He wished Halsin were there. The big druid positively drove him utterly mad most of the time, but he did have a knack for understanding these knotted emotions that made no sense to Astarion.

Without any other option, he smiled and acquiesced to Wyll's very reasonable request, settling into the proffered chair with as much grace and dignity as he could perform. Wyll took the seat to his right, and Gale sat to his left. He was especially thankful for that, reaching under the table for the wizard and finding his warm, soft hand waiting for him.

The first course was served. He noted that nothing was placed in front of him, although his wine was refilled. He busied himself chatting with Jaheira and the bard from the grove whose name escaped him. Wyll seemed to be quite focused on chewing for some reason, and Gale, despite the occasional squeeze of his hand, seemed equally preoccupied.

As the plates were being cleared, Wyll stood up, clearing his throat. The room came to a hush.

"First, I wanted to thank all of you for coming today. Although all of you have met Saer Ancunin, better known as Astarion to his companions, he may not have gotten to know you along the way as much as some of our more extroverted teammates. While Astarion may be more adept at silently sneaking through shadows than making merry with friends, it has come to my attention that there seems to be a misconception regarding the importance he played on our journey to defeat the Cult of the Absolute. "

Astarion tried to shrink down in his chair, but his position prevented it. All eyes were on him. Some, like the tiefling refugees, were filled with harmless curiosity, but the two patriars in attendance were sharpened glares. He had no choice but to sit up, draw his shoulders back, and tilt his chin up.

He did like praise, and coming from Wyll, it felt real. The man was too noble for the false kind.

"It started with, honestly, him being an asshole." Slightly uncomfortable titters passed through the crowd, but Wyll broke the tension with one of his big grins. "No, honestly, we were in a desperate situation, but too many of us thought we were operating in some kind of normalcy. Astarion forced us to confront that we had to choose to survive if we wanted to be able win, and that meant sometimes taking offered reward money, or using more underhanded tactics than I might have liked. "

A general murmur ran through the crowds, some heads nodding, others still questioning.

"And then, when a devil approached us, offering an easy solution, he was the one who cut him off. Reminding us that a devil will only offer a deal they think they can win." More murmurs, this time the glances were at Wyll. The Duke caught them. "Yes, you'd think I, of all people, would have realized that myself. But desperation does funny things to people. For instance, it was Astarion who recognized that Karlach here was not the devil I'd been told she was, but in fact was a victim of the Hells. If not for him, I might have killed the finest warrior I've ever fought beside. No offense, Lae'zel."

The gith nodded. "I am not offended by an accurate assessment. Karlach's skill as a warrior cannot be disputed."

Karlach looked rather chuffed, and Astarion felt that strange warmth that he had grown to identify as happiness for the good fortune of people he cared about. It was still somewhat alien, but he didn't … hate it.

"It was, however, in the Shadow Cursed Lands around Reithwin when Astarion truly showed his strength to our team. His stealth and cunning were invaluable when we infiltrated the Absolute's headquarters in Moonrise Towers, gaining the trust of General Kethric and his advisor, allowing us to find the location of the source of his purported immortality, all while maintaining our cover."

He noted that the looks he was receiving were shifting. From curiosity and fear to appreciation and, dare he think it, approval.

He felt his ears wanting to twitch, whether in fear or embarrassment, he wasn't sure.

"Finally, I cannot express the most impressive achievement of all. While it wasn't directly related to the fall of the Absolute, it does remain that it is the single most remarkable act of courage and strength I have ever seen in all my years as the Blade of Frontiers. Watching you confront your former Master, taking him on in his own home to prevent him from sacrificing seven thousand souls to the Hells, even though it meant risking your own life, your own freedom - Astarion, I doubt that in all of my days I will ever be as impressed by another as I was by you, that day."

Astarion wanted to hide. That wasn't what happened, not at all! He'd gone there fully intent on stealing that ritual! He wasn't there to save the others. It was entirely a selfish plan he'd had, only stopped because of Gale. Because his friend had shown him so many times that he didn't have to be what Cazador had carved him into, that he could be something different, something worthy.

But instead, he smiled, feeling like he was dying inside. Did Wyll really not know what had actually happened? Did he truly see him like this, this savior?

Karlach stood up. "Not to mention that he got the killing blow in on the brain. I mean, he's such a little guy it'd be easy to underestimate him, but he is vicious. Once I saw him strangle a mercenary with his own bowels." Karlach giggled, while the rest of the dinner party looked somewhere between horrified and mildly ill.

Although Lae'zel grinned, giving him what he was pretty sure the gith thought was a thumbs-up. Her grasp on Faerunian gestures often was hilariously bad, and the two upward middle fingers currently on display and aimed at him were certainly going to be part of that long tradition.

"Yes, uh, thank you, Karlach, for that reminder. Yes, Astarion did, in fact, get the killing blow in on the brain. So, here's a toast to Astarion Ancunin. We could not have made it here without you, not a single one of us."

Astarion smiled but inside he was trembling. At some point, surely, Wyll would realize the truth. There was no way he wouldn't. Did… Did Gale think this, too? Was that why he'd stuck around? Why he'd come to the graveyard with him and held him that night?

He glanced over at the wizard, who was gazing at him with utter adoration. A look that made his insides warm and his cock start to twitch, even as it made sick churn under his ribs. Well, that was familiar, at least.

"Ah, thank you, Wyll, for that. But, of course, we wouldn't have managed without any of us, truly. Your invaluable leadership, Shadowheart's wit, Lae'zel's tactics, Karlach's strength, Gale's magical prowess - truly, we were fortunate to have an embarrassment of talent."

The modesty felt like ashes on his tongue, but better that than to labor under the pretense of what Wyll had set up.

The guests completed the toast, and conversation broke out as another course was served, a soup, this time. He wished he could eat, if only to have something to do besides drink this wine and wish he could disappear.

A liveried servant came out, with a little rolling serving cart, one that usually might contain a complement of liqueurs for a few guests, instead it contained sixteen tiny glass snifters, each holding perhaps a single swallow of deep red liquid. A wine tasting?

The cart was brought to the table, and the servant gingerly placed each cup on the table out in front of him. Four rows of four. The cut crystal glittered under the moonlight, the claret liquid now revealed by scent to be blood. Some of it familiar, others… the bouquet was driving his nose to twitch and his fangs to ache.

Instantly, his worries about Wyll's insane misunderstanding were forgotten, or at least buried for future Astarion to deal with. Right now, all his focus lay on the glasses on the table.

"I, uh, well I tried to get you a present." Gale began hesitantly. "It was supposed to be a taste testing of the blood of magical beasts. I remembered how much you enjoyed the Gremishkas at Rosymorn, and thought that you might enjoy getting a little feast of your own."

"What do you mean by tried? I see quite a few glasses here…"

"Ah. Well, um…" blushing once again, Gale turned the sleeve of his robe up, revealing a small cut on his arm. The wizard gestured over where Karlach and Lae'zel sat, and he turned to see them reveal similar wounds. Even Shadowheart, who'd never let him feed on her during their journey, even in the Shadowlands, sported a cut.

He couldn't believe his eyes.

"Remember when we were first heading into the underdark, just after we'd found out you were a vampire, and you were pondering what we all tasted like?" Gale laughed, but several gasps rippled through the crowd.

Wyll stopped and stood up. "Ah, yes. For those who are not aware, Astarion Ancunin, hero of Baldur's Gate, the man who slew the brain, and my best friend, is indeed a vampire spawn. A free vampire spawn, and as trustworthy as anyone else in this city."

The titters died down a bit. Who was going to argue with the Grand Duke in his own house?

Well, he would have, Astarion grinned to himself, but few had his audacity or skill.

"Well, we offer up a taste testing. I do wonder, though, if you are able to discern which cup belongs to which vein?" Gale's slightly tilted head and twinkling eyes held a challenge. One which Astarion was glad to rise to.

He picked up one of the snifters closest to him, bringing it to his nose, swirling the thick, dark liquid around to bring up the scent.

"Hmmm. A smokey scent, strong and and forward on the nose. Definitely sentient."

He closed his eyes, taking a bigger inhale, letting it settle on the back of his tongue. Finer details emerged, telling him it was certainly the blood of a well-fed tiefling. He hadn't quite gotten around to sharing that he'd learned to scent blood to this degree. No, he'd hidden it, lest these weirdos try to use him like a scent-hound. There were some things that were simply beneath him.

He grinned, eying Karlach deliberately, then lifted the glass to his lips, gingerly taking a taste. He hoped her lack of infernal machinery might make the blood a bit safer that the one time he'd tried it.

He closed his eyes again as it hit his tongue, trying hard to keep a somewhat straight face for the assembled crowd. It wouldn't do to have them watch him enjoy it a little too much. Not even the backing of the Grand Duke would dispel that level of discomfort.

He finished it off, then looked up. "That had to be you, Fire Girl. A spicy bouquet like none other."

Karlach whooped. "Called it in one, Fangs. Go on, try the rest."

He proceeded with the rest as the mortals finished their soup, and right through when the fish course was served, making it all the way to the meat course coming out. Rothe ribs, rather than the typical whole pig served at such events.

Taking his time to savor this most unlikely occurrence, he didn't let a drop go to waste, finding that his favorite of the creatures that Gale had procured was indeed the Gremishka, which still tasted like cherry pie smelled. And amongst his friends, well, he was not surprised to find that other than Gale, his favorite was Wyll's.

It wasn't even the twentieth time he supped of the man, having been mostly fed by him and Halsin in the Shadow Cursed lands. Wyll's blood was, as always, rich and slightly sweet, much like the man himself.

The true revelation was Gale's. With the blight of the orb removed, he was truly tasting it for the first time. Objectively, it was no better than Wyll's, but the fact that it came from Gale, that he was taking the wizard into himself in the only way he was allowed, well… it might not have tasted better, but it did set many of Astarion's parts to fluttering.

"This one," Astarion held up the last cup, the glass still coated on the inside, "has to be yours, Gale of Waterdeep. It was…" he closed his eyes dramatically, letting his eyelashes flutter while he rather suggestively licked the cup clean, "…magical." He purred the last word, giving Gale the full weight of his smoldering gaze. He'd never seen it, but he knew what a devastating weapon it was.

Gale faltered, actually dropping the fork that was in his hand, then flushing once more. "Ah, well, uh…." He spluttered a moment, then pulled himself together. "Other than mixing up the Giant Eagle and the Griffon, you were right every time. Well done!"

Astarion licked his teeth before grinning, hoping they weren't too bloody.

"No, thank you, darling. That was truly delectable."

Gale beamed and Astarion wasn't sure he'd ever seen anything more beautiful than his wizard lighting up with joy.

The meal continued for three more courses. Not that he was an expert on mortal food consumption, but he was fairly certain this was a bit excessive. However, the others didn't complain. It was a lovely dinner by all comparisons that he possessed. Many compliments were made about the food, wine flowed freely, and conversation seemed easy and lighthearted.

All his fears about the party bringing up old memories had faded completely into the background. This was nothing like those events, and not just because his role was different. For one, everyone seemed to be genuinely enjoying themselves, rather than on a mission.

The servants were cleaning up again, including removing his special little glasses, and he'd ended up deep in a conversation with Wyll about his efforts to repeal the sumptuary laws, of all things. Perhaps because the vampire was personally breaking about six of them tonight. Either way, it was cut short when the gong rang out, indicating that dinner service had ended, and the dancing had begun.

Guests began to slowly make their way back inside, and the quartet began to play a tune far too upbeat to be proper for the Grand Duke's ballroom. Astarion grinned, preparing to head inside. He usually wasn't much of one for dancing, but this was nothing like the dancing he had done in the past. Besides, even friends were allowed to be close when they danced.

Gale had finally let go of the knot in his chest after watching Astarion light up when his present had come out. He'd been so nervous that he'd take it the wrong way - after all, Astarion usually hated it when people pointed out his nature. Gale was so relieved it had paid off.

He wished his dear friend would stop with the flirtations tonight, though. It was hard enough keeping his thoughts focused and appropriate with Astarion sashaying about in that dress, if dress was even the word for it. Veil might be better, as sheer as it was. When the light was behind the elf, well… it left little to the imagination.

Not that Gale's imagination needed any assistance. As a wizard, he had an excellent retention and recall, and few things had burned themselves into his brain matter as permanently as the vision of Astarion's aesthetically perfect figure.

He maneuvered through the crowd as everyone headed into the ballroom, the quartet's rendition of a popular tavern song, toned down a tiny bit to suit the location, moved people quickly onto the dance floor. Gale had planned to take up residence in a comfortable corner when a familiar hand gripped his arm, and the scent of incense and wine came with a hiss in his ear, telling him to seize the moment.

The or else wasn't spoken, but it was heavily implied by Shadowheart.

She spun him around and gave him a small but firm push forward, directly towards Astarion, who was standing on the edge of the dancefloor under a skylight, the moonlight and the colored glow of the faerie lights combining to make his porcelain skin glow luminous, like mother of pearl with its shifting rainbow of softened hues.

Astarion gave him another smoldering look, opening his mouth to say something, but Gale cut him off.

"Perchance," Gale said, bravery suddenly flooding him, perhaps from the brandy he'd had earlier, or perhaps Shadowheart's push had included a little guidance, he'd never know. "Would you grant me the honor of your first dance of the evening?"

He gave a practiced bow, offering out a hand.

There was a subtle shift on Astarion's face, the sultry bedroom eyes dissolving into something impossibly fragile, soft, and round. His posture shifted as his face did, from confidence to something hesitant, almost hopeful. The elf lifted one of those alabaster hands, letting the impossible sleeve of his gown float in the air almost like foam on waves, and lay his fingertips down almost imperceptibly on Gale's warm, proffered palm.

"Is dancing something that friends do, Gale?" There was a softness in that voice that he'd only heard a handful of times, each one a moment of vulnerability. And yet, here, no one's soul was being bared. No life was on the line. Just two men, trying to understand how they fit together, and a dance floor.

Gale took a breath, a hair's breadth away from losing control right now. From taking that hand and pulling the man he so desperately wished he could have close, from pressing lips against those plush ones he knew would give so sweetly under his. But he couldn't, wouldn't push against the boundary that this man, this man whom he loved more than he'd ever loved another, had so heart-achingly begged for.

No matter how much it aggrieved his spirit to do so, he would not break Astarion's trust.

"Of course. Dancing can be shared without there being any further expectations at all." He tilted his head when Astarion seemed to be pursing his lips, like it carried some distaste. "But if you prefer, we do not-"

"No!" Astarion yelled, looking shocked at his outburst. "I mean," the elf cocked his head, adjusting himself to try and reclaim his usual air of insouciance, "I suppose I could humor my most darling friend."

Gale didn't respond, merely smiled and led them to the dance floor, finding an open spot. He carefully placed his hands in respectful and gentle places on the elf.

"Is this ok with you?" He asked it quietly, keeping it a private matter.

"Of course, but I'm so glad you asked."

"Always, Star. I will always ask." The conviction of the statement rang true to his voice, and for a brief moment, there was the strangest glimmer in those carmine eyes.

Delicate, deceptively strong hands gently lay on him, and Astarion leaned into his hold lightly. His head was so close that cool breath began to tease the heated skin of Gale's neck, and soft curls brushed his jaw, catching in his stubble.

A shiver ran through Gale at the feeling of closeness. A shiver that sent a rush of heat pooling back through him. Just a dance between friends, nothing more. Gale thought the words like a mantra, repeating as he pushed down his traitorous desires.

Gale had never been much of a dancer, perfectly adequate but nothing more, and he'd participated only ever under pressure. This was nothing like his prior experiences. He and Astarion moved together like they were two parts of one person, stepping in perfect unison without a word between them, twirling together to the quickened beats of the music. They fit together like they'd been made for each other, hands setting perfectly in the slight angle of waist or the curve of a shoulder, and when the music slowed, Astarion settled into his arms, his cheek perfectly molding to the crook of Gale's neck.

Gale had to remind himself to breathe many times as they danced without a break through multiple numbers.

The music paused for a moment. Gale wasn't sure why, hadn't even realized it had happened, at first, except that Astarion had come to a stop.

"What-"

"Shhhhhh." The vampire crooned at him, pulling out of his arms just enough to make eye contact. "There's something…" Astarion dropped out of that sultry voice and those vulnerable eyes returned, his sudden inhale of breath catching loudly enough that Gale could hear the crackle.

And then his face tilted up, slowly, like thick honey being drizzled from a spoon. Gale's chest tightened, with fear, with anxiety, with desire - he couldn't tell. What if he was reading this wrong? What if those lips weren't ever so slowly moving towards his?

Just as that silken skin first brushed his own, heated opening, the gong rang out.

Astarion fell back onto his heels, turning away and adjusting his gown softly. Gale felt a sudden, intense pang of guilt. Why hadn't he stopped him? Why had he leaned forward, practically begging the man for something he simply wasn't ready or willing to give him?

He still harbored terrible agony for having, unknowingly, taken advantage of the vampire when they first met, for accidently feeding into the man's programmed view of the world that he was only worth what he could provide to others, and that he had only one skill worth providing. And here he was, promising in one breath that the dance didn't have to be a promise of anything, then immediately letting him make it one.

The only thing that could have made this worse was…

Well, what happened. The cake was wheeled out. The unsightly cake from that baker who had rushed him through the process, and now sat in all its enormous, terribly glory like a crowning achievement in the center of the ballroom. Felicitations and Whatnot! The iced words scrolled around the side like a banner of his shame.

He'd forgotten to tell Morris not to serve it.

And Gale tried to hide before Astarion looked at the thing too closely. He slipped behind two large men who were pushing for a better view, then quietly walked towards a side door, the one that led straight back to the kitchens. No one would come looking for him there, surely.

He could simply then walk out the back door and vanish for a while. It would be for the best. He clearly couldn't be trusted to be Astarion's friend right now. He needed space. Perspective. Possibly a large number of hours with a few mage hands and some kind of reference material other than his imagination, which treacherously always ventured back to the elf in question, no matter who or what he began thinking about.

Astarion was bewildered.

He'd almost done it. Almost broken through Gale's defenses, he knew if there had been just a moment longer, that Gale would have kissed him. And then surely, the wizard would have to admit they were more than friends. After all, friends didn't kiss each other. Gale had said so.

Emphatically.

He stared at the enormous cake. He'd never seen one quite this big. The servants had to put it on wheels to bring it out. Wyll was gesturing at it, explaining to the crowd the decorations that were laid out on each tier.

The bottom was the area outside the grove. Astarion spotted a small pod and a dagger on a cliffside. The spot he'd awoken in the sun. The moment that changed everything for him. The grove was there as well, complete with the idol of Silvanus and a bear standing up in a roar in front of some tieflings.

Molded out of something edible, the detail on the figures was remarkable, better than some statuary he'd seen in a great number of noble's villas and manor houses.

The next tier up showed the underdark. The strange mushroom people held sway in one quandrant, while duegar and undergnomes filled out Grymforge's entrace, complete with a raft. The sussur tree glowed gently, a particularly nice touch.

Further up were the githyanki and their creche, the shadowlands, and Last Light Inn.

Astarion shuddered while Wyll continued to give the sanitized version of their journey, remembering the conversation where everything had gone wrong.

"I want something real," he had forced the honest, painful truth out. "I want us to be something real."

He didn't know how to ask for what he wanted. He still didn't know the words, and Gale's offer of friendship had seemed so impossible at that point. He'd frankly expected, and deserved, the man to hate him. To be so hurt by his manipulations and lies that he would want nothing to do with him ever.

So when he'd looked at him with those big, brown eyes, and said, "Maybe what you need is friend, not a lover." Well, it felt like a bloody miracle.

Astarion wished he could take back his stunned agreement to that statement, because it wasn't true. He already had friends! He had plenty of friends! Karlach, Shadowheart, Wyll, Halsin, Lae'zel, Jaheira - even the bald barbarian would have his back if he asked for help.

What he didn't have was the precious, fragile thing that he'd found with Gale, the thing that had wormed into his heart and made him care. He'd been so certain that he was fundamentally incapable of something a soft as caring after a century of giving up and giving in. Of his only feelings being pain, bloodlust, and hatred.

He'd completely blanked for a moment, and turned back to find dozens, no, hundreds of tiny candles being placed about the cake. He looked to Wyll with bewilderment, hoping for an explanation.

"Ah, a birthday tradition, my friend. A candle is lit for each year that you have been, well, not dead, in your case, and then you make a wish for whatever you want most in the upcoming year. To earn your wish, you must blow out all the flames in a single breath. "

The servants began to light the candles quickly, while people gathered round.

"That is a ludicrous number of candles to extinguish in a single breath."

A warm hand slapped his back. "Don't worry, Mama K's here to help. I'll take one side, you get the other. We'll get you that wish." Karlach winked.

The sudden press of the crowd coming closer to watch, the knowing eyes of his friends as they all expected him to make some wish, the pressure to perform… At some point, he succumbed to it all. What happened next, he couldn't say. He drifted off into that haze he used to all but live in.

He must have completed the task to expectations, as there was polite clapping, and then he wandered away. He found himself back out on the patio, staring at the moonlight, when a familiar voice spoke low in the darkness.

"Selune offers many blessings, Astarion, but I think what you seek is currently in the kitchen, practicing a speech."

He blinked, coming back into his body again. "I have no idea what you are talking about, my dear." He flashed a small grin.

Shadowheart stared at him flatly, and he was reminded of why he generally did not get into battles of will with her. She could have probably stood there all night, holding that expression and emotion. He got bored after a few minutes.

He sighed. "All right, but… What am I supposed to do? I've tried every trick in the book. How do I convince him that I want to be more than friends?"

"Have you tried, and hear me out on this, talking to him? With words?"

"Eugh. Gods no. The last time I tried talking to him about our relationship, we ended up in this wreck. I thought for certain, earlier… but that damnable gong..." He shook his head. "No. Perhaps it is simply for the best. Fate thwarts us at every turn, it seems."

"Oh, for the love of the darkness! Astarion Ancunin, fate is not thwarting you. You are thwarting you. Now sashay into that kitchen, tell that idiot that you want to metaphorically have his babies, and kiss him."

He's so agog by the vehemence in her words that he snorts. "I most certainly want no such thing."

"You want Gale, though, right? Just tell him you want a future with him. That's all he wants. To know this isn't just you teasing or testing him." She softens a touch, as much as Shadowheart ever does. He's always admired that about her. "And this time, be gentler with him. He's got a fragile heart, our wizard."

That wasn't new information. Mystra had done a number on the man. Gale had trouble conceptualizing how special he was outside of the whole Wizard of Waterdeep persona. But he hadn't contemplated that his actions may have wounded the human in quite the same way.

That hurt, but mostly… it was enlightening.

He suddenly knew what he had to do, and wasted no more time. Giving a bewildered Shadowheart a sudden kiss on the cheek, he lifted his skirt and took off running, kicking off his heeled satin slippers when they caught on the threshold. He ignored the stares of the guests and his friends as he ran out a side door.

He found the kitchen after he'd shocked a poor maid half out of her skin and asked for directions.

The sound of Gale's heart led him right to a storage room filled with dry goods on shelves, then a stairway to below ground covered by a lead-lined trap door. He descended into the dark, vampiric eyes unbothered, other than the loss of color vision.

The cellar was clean. Meticulously, really, for an underground space. With tall ceilings and a few lanterns he could have lit, had he needed them. Animal carcasses hung from hooks in the cool air, and a shelf filled with hams and cheeses sat nearby. A small wooden door to the side opened to reveal the wine cellar.

A crumpled pile of cloth, topped by a top knot of soft hair that would be the color of chestnuts if light were available, lay slumped against a brick wall. Gale was in a much worse state than Shadowheart had implied.

Delicately sinking to his knees, careful of the fragile gown, Astarion gingerly placed an arm around the wizard.

"Darling, whatever could you be doing in here?"

Gale jumped, then coughed, then attempted to recover his composure. "I, uh, well… I must admit, this party has not gone as I originally envisioned it. I am most sorry, Astarion, that it wasn't what you had dreamt of."

He looked at his love's warm brown eyes and laughed. A full-throated, fangs-out, belly laugh. "Oh, you sweet, sweet man. This is so much better than anything I could have come up with."

Gale stared at him, incredulous.

"I swear it," he held his hands up, "I mean every word. I dreamt up the kind of party I was familiar with, but honestly, I think I'd rather be flayed again than spend a night watching a bunch of musty patriars grope servants in the alcoves, drink too much terrible wine, and pretend that they are up to anything but the most depraved corruption possible." He shook his head. "No, this was perfect, my dear. Friends, allies, acquaintances… even a couple of those musty patriars, just so I can say they attended. And then… you remarkable man, you made my vision a reality with that fountain!"

Gale was shyly beginning to grin.

"Of course, Shadowheart, bless her, made this dress happen. Can you believe she thought this was a wedding?"

"Ah, that was a bit of a surprise, I must admit. I may have been rambling a bit when I was explaining the plan to her, perhaps it is not surprising that she filled in the gaps for herself." He smiled a little bit brighter. "I cannot say that I am unhappy, though, for the miscommunication. You wear that gown beautifully, Star. I wish I could still show you."

He felt the tips of his ears heat up. The strangest thing about being an extremely well-fed vampire is that he can, in fact, blush slightly now.

"I wore it for you." The words were out before he'd realized what he said. Well, in for a penny, out for a silver Baldurian sword. "Gale - I don't want to be your friend."

Gale blinked, his soft smile melting into a frown, hurt spreading across his face.

"No! Not like that. I… I don't want to be only your friend." Astarion felt panicked. He was already making a mess of things. "I…"

What had Shadowheart said, something something babies? Eugh. Right, a future. That was it. That Gale needed to hear that he wanted a future with him. A memory surfaced, a quiet conversation they'd shared one evening by the campfire, in between pages of their books.

"Gale, I want to sit at your kitchen table while you eat breakfast. I want to hold you at night, and kiss you good morning, and I cannot believe I am saying this, but…" He took in a deep breath. "Gale Dekarios, I would love to have tea with your mother. Well, no tea for me, of course, but the intention is there…"

Suddenly, arms were wrapped around him, and those lips. Those glorious lips were finally where they belonged, on his own. Gentle hands slid up his back, threading through his hair, tugging ever so gently at the roots in the softest, most grounding of pain, while a heated tongue touched the seam of his mouth. He opened it, drawing it in with his own, melting his body into the warmth of the man who now held him so perfectly close.

Gale tipped back, off balance from his crouch, spreading out on the ground below. Astarion shifted, following him, not letting their mouths part. He shifted one of his knees between the wizard's legs, pushing up those heavy nubbled silk robes. His other leg crooked around Gale's good knee, moving his legs apart to make space.

Settling in, hips aligned, he kissed the man deeper, putting every moment of desire he'd been having to bottle for the past month into it, until Gale was forced to push him off, gently, to catch his poor, mortal breath.

"Yes." Gale mumbled, still gasping a bit.

"Hmmm? I'm sorry, I couldn't quite-"

"I'd love to be more than just your friend, if that's something you want. If you are certain, this time." There was a fragile hesitancy to his voice, and Shadowheart's final warning reverberated.

He kissed Gale again, softly, pulling away so he could look into his eyes.

"I want you. I want this. I… I love you."

He could feel Gale's heart thundering under him, the heat of a very firm and rather quickly growing erection pressing through robes. A smirk crept across the vampire's face.

He pulled back, keeping eye contact as he sat up. A slight shrug of his shoulders and the light as gossamer fabric slid down his arms while a pleasant pink crept across the wizard's face and his eyes didn't waver. A subtle shift of his arms to remove the sleeves and a slight twist at his waist to shimmy the dress off.

Astarion tossed it, impatiently, into a corner, leaving himself bare except for a pair of silk smalls that were no longer quite containing his cock.

Gale's breath hitched as those brown eyes left his, taking in what he'd just bared, then they flinched.

"Oh. I'm so-"

He slipped back on his knees, sliding to the spot between Gale's legs once more, grasping his chin and pulling those brown eyes back to his own.

"I want this, Gale. I love you. I want you. Right now, I want you rather quite desperately. I would hope you feel at least similarly minded."

He let go of that impressively soft beard, letting his hands settle just below knees, fingers trailing along roughly haired legs, trailing upward ever so slowly, shifting that robe upwards. "It's been unbearable torture, you know. Having you so near me all the time, but not allowed to touch you."

Gale shakes his head. "All you had to do was tell me you wanted it. I thought…" He clears his throat while Astarion's hands continue on their upward journey, tracing near smooth thighs, feeling the pulse that ran through. "Well, I was under the impression you very much wished to be celibate."

Astarion sighs, holding his hands still, realizing that perhaps a few more words were needed before he could finally get his mouth on that delicious cock Gale has hidden beneath entirely too much cloth.

"I needed it, for a while. But it wasn't a tenday before I was already realizing that it was a temporary desire. Believe me, no one is more surprised than I that I am quite interested in sex. Well, at least with you, that is."

A breath caught in Gale's throat, and the skin of his thighs bloomed with sudden heat. "Astarion, we don't have to do this, well, here. We could go somewhere-"

"I don't want to wait an hour more to have you again, Gale Dekarios." His voice dropped low, making a silky purr. Not because he made it happen, it just came forth. What a wonderful thing, this real was. "May I get you out of this robe? Please?"

"Please."

Gale's earnest little beg, voice husky and almost broken, was like a match to the kindling of Astarion's desire. He reached up, rapidly unlacing the sides of the garment, loosening it. Jumping to his feet, he scooped up the wizard, encircling himself with the man's thick, muscular thighs.

The robe lifted off without further intervention, and he turned, resting his passenger's bottom on a barrel top, freeing himself to place kisses along the Gale's body. Starting at one earlobe, down that strong jaw line, soft nibbles over his neck.

Astarion stopped there a moment, inhaling that wonderful aroma he'd finally been able to sample earlier, teasing himself. Later. Later, if he was lucky, he'd get to taste him directly from the vein. But now was for other kinds of pleasures.

He resumed his worship, peppering soft lips over strong shoulders and a pleasantly furred chest. Warm hands found their way into his hair as he traced the outline of an areola with his tongue. A soft sigh escaping as a back arched and pressed the sensitive flesh further into his mouth.

He took it, greedily, feeling almost fed by the lovely little noises coming from his love's mouth. He let his hands wander down, gripping firm buttocks and sliding his fingers under the edges of Gale's smalls.

Letting go of the nipple with a suck, he started to drop to his knees, when the feeling struck. A thousand layers of memories, superimposed, knees on filthy cobbles, on worn floorboards, on thick carpets, on the marble floors of the palace. His mind began to drift, a haze settling in even as he fought.

He wanted to be here. Wanted this so damn much.

"'Starion?"

He was looking up at a very concerned Gale, his face resting with the swell of his cheek resting along the length of his cock, the cold brick floor digging into his knees.

"Are you here with me, my love?"

Astarion blinked slowly, grabbing one of Gale's hands and squeezing gently. "I want this." He whispered, not sure whom he was trying to convince.

"Oh, my love." Gale's eyes were warm and soft as he lifted Astarion by his arms, gently pulling him into a warm embrace. "I know you do. I want it, too, but perhaps… well, perhaps we could try something new?"

Soft, silvery lashes fluttered over confused ruby eyes. "Something… new?"

"Historically, when we've engaged in such erotic acts, you've been the one who has, well, done the work, so to speak." Gale murmured, somehow making what could be a lecture sound soothing. "Perhaps it is time I was the one on my knees?"

Astarion stared at him, completely stunned as the meaning seeped in. He'd hoped Gale might still want him, but this kind of want. The willingness to put himself in that position. He felt a smirk slide across his face as his desire returned like a flash fire.

"I mean, if you wanted to do such a thing, I would hardly be in a hurry to thwart your desires. But best we get a cushion for those creaky things."

He hopped over to where the wizard's robe had landed, rolling it up and setting it down on the floor. The moment of movement cleared the last of the fog in his head. This was something new, he reminded himself. Never once had a mark gotten on their knees for him - he wouldn't have let them. It wasn't in the script.

He peeled his smalls off, fighting the instinct to make it a show, and hopped into Gale's former spot on the barrel, scooching forward right to the edge, legs splayed open, his hands on the back of the barrel, arching his chest forward a bit. Yes, it was a pose. It also kept the barrel from tumbling over, he reminded himself.

Also, the reward of Gale literally swallowing to keep from drooling over the sight of him was more than worth the slight twinge of fear. The wizard simply kept staring, his wide, hungry eyes taking in the sight, seeming unsure of what to do next.

Astarion felt a shudder of sudden awareness of what he wanted to do about this. He'd had this particular little dream more than once. Gale had always liked a little bit of direction.

"On your knees, darling." He said it slowly, dark, with all the authority he could muster from this rather vulnerable position, gesturing downwards at the hastily made pillow on the ground.

He watched in satisfaction as Gale silently complied, slowly lowering himself, pupils huge with lust and maintaining eye contact the whole time. When he was in place, Astarion lightly placed his legs over the man's shoulders, giving him leverage to pull him right into place, hot breath over skin that had no right to be this warm.

Warm brown eyes, nearly eclipsed by huge black pupils, held his own as the wizard's mouth opened, lips brushing his shaft with little, nibbling kisses. Touches he'd only been able to dream of, to imagine for so long. Even the beard he'd disliked when they'd first met now was a sort of sensory play, roughness against his sensitive, swollen balls, almost stroking them as Gale's mouth moved up and down, seeming to map his entire length and circumference.

As blissful as the sensation was, and Gale truly had quite the talented mouth, it held nothing for the other things Astarion was feeling. Being touched like this, it suddenly became clear to him that this, this moment, was entirely for him. About him.

Like brandy poured on a fire, the pleasure in him, already substantial, ignited. Twisting coils of heat and tension wove through him, his hips rutting in desperation against those soft, generous lips. A little whine came out of his throat that he couldn't have stopped if he had tried.

He felt the curve of a smile form on Gale's lips, and the cool air of the cellar rushed in as his love pulled back.

"Nooooooo…."

A small, warm chuckle responded. "Patience, I merely needed to adjust my posture so as to provide an optimal experience."

Before he could form words to respond, the silken, wet heat of Gale's mouth wrapped around him, taking in more of his length than he would have guessed he could. Hands wrapped around what was left, and a firm tongue began massaging him, undulating across his frenulum. And then his love began to move. Slowly, taking in more, then releasing, his hands, tongue, and glorious mouth delivering a coordinated flow of sensory delights, driving him to a peak he couldn't remember ever reaching.

He wanted it not to end. Gods, he wanted the orgasm that was coming but he also wanted this never to end. He'd been rushing to the finish line every other time they'd been together, but this time, it wasn't up to him. And for all that giving that control over had the power to terrify him, he realized it hadn't this time. He trusted Gale, and that was the thing that drove him forward.

The twisting coil suddenly drew so tight his whole body was tensed by it, the build had knives but the best kind, the bow being drawn back right to the breaking point and held there.

He could keep his eyes on Gale's anymore. His head tossed back, his eyelids closing as all other input but the sensory symphony of their bodies touching disappeared. He heard himself whining, pleading, then whimpering while his hips trembled as the wizard pulled him in all the way, tightening his throat around him, the bliss of that sensation finally snapping the cord.

The cry he let loose when his peak rushed through him reverberated through the vaulted space. Gale held tight onto his hips as he thrust wildly, keeping him from falling off his barrel chair even as the wizard somehow worked him through it, despite having no way to breathe with his cock buried so deep in the man's throat.

Gently, Gale pulled off after a moment, carefully lifting him like a most precious treasure. Astarion felt limp and utterly sated as he was settled on the ground, curled up against his love. Sweat-salted skin and heat grounded him, reminded him of who had made him feel like this.

In the warm haze, he found himself kissing the wizard's chest.

Gale simply held him close, carding gentle fingers through his hair. A calm, loving rock to cling to as he came back to reality.

"What happens next?" The first words he could bring himself to say, he winced at the rashness of asking. Did he even want to know? What if Gale was done now, having had him?

A soft kiss pressed into his forehead.

"Well, I suppose it depends on what you want, Astarion. I had planned to return home, now that Mystra has the crown. I'm not sure from there. Perhaps I might apply for a teaching position at Blackstaff - if they'll take a disgraced former Chosen onboard. Certainly, I could pursue other ventures as well." Gale pulled him in just a little closer. "There's tales of items that allow vampires to walk in the sun. We could always hunt one down. Or maybe we could go and check on your brethren in the underdark."

What he wanted? Astarion smiled, knowing that he was uncertain of most things, with one bearded, brown-eyed exception.

"What I want, my love, is to be with you. And, while an adventure does sound exciting, I feel like perhaps we are entitled to a bit of a break, don't you? Some time to sleep on soft beds in warm, dry rooms?"

"I think that sounds eminently reasonable. Of course, there is another question, a bit more pressing if I'm to be honest."

"Hmmmm? And what is that, darling?"

"How am I going to explain the state of my robes when we return upstairs?"