#AND SHES TRYING TO BECOME THE NEXT BLACKSTAFF | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

selunesdreams · 5 months ago

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Somebody in the Hells Loves You

“Gale, I don’t mean to sound unappreciative, but what are you doing here? We haven’t spoken in years - we’re practically strangers-”

A bright white flash interrupted Florence, and she lifted her gaze to find a strange, tentacled ship tearing through the night sky.

“What in the hells?” Her body was frozen in terror. “Is that a-”

For once in his life, Gale was speechless, and as the ship rapidly approached, he cursed and grabbed Florence by the hand.

“Unless you want to see that thing from the inside, I suggest we run.”

Pairing: Gale x Named Tav/OFC

Summary: It’s been nearly a year since anyone has heard from Gale Dekarios. Once a promising mage, he now lives as a recluse, stripped of Mystra’s favor and cursed by netherese magic due to a well-intentioned but catastrophic mistake.

For Florence Ashveil, who left Blackstaff Academy years ago after circumstances thwarted her dreams of becoming one of the best and brightest wizards of her generation, the silence has been even longer. But when their paths cross again just as they are abducted by a Nautiloid ship, it seems they’ll have plenty of time to get reacquainted.

Rating: mature

Words: 3.8k

Tags: just-fucked-it-up-with-Mystra era Gale, slow burn, mutual pining, mysterious past, baggage, sexual/romantic tension Warnings: brief tangential mention of Astarion-related trauma, not graphic, viewed as flashback.

a/n: Welcome to my first Gale fic! The pipeline is real. This story is still developing, so I'm not sure how the rating/tags will be impacted. It's reasonable to expect some eventual smut. Sorry if you were waiting on the next installment of Forms of Imprisonment, I got distracted by this one but promise it’s coming soon!

There were countless times in Florence Ashveil’s thirty years of life when she complained she “ was in the Hells .” Secondary school, family reunions, her first breakup - her mother had chastised her on each occasion, explaining ad nauseam how everyone endures such things, that they don’t equate to suffering a place like Avernus. Once, during exams week, her second year at the Academy, she wrote the phrase in a letter home and received a pigeon from Cora Ashveil the next day.

“I pray you never truly experience the hells, Flossie, because I fear your poor tolerance for distress would set you up poorly for surviving them.”

If only her mother could see her now.

*Hours Earlier*

Florence perused the offerings of the crowded Waterdeep Market alone, following her usual Tenthday ritual. Hundreds of stalls and camped vendors shouted at passing visitors, vying for their gold. A few called out to her with flirtatious compliments, encouraging her to come closer or try a free sample, and she shook her head with a terse smile, keeping wary of thieves. Her fingers touched her coin purse several times to confirm it was still there. She stopped at her usual booth, inspecting produce with a frown as she tried to ignore the never ending voices screeching in her mind.

Check for worms, maggots - what if they’re infested with maggots and you don’t see-

Relief came as distraction - an ostentatious, familiar voice, chatting with a nearby vendor, as if incapable of stopping.

“Did you know the skin of a kiwi is just as edible as the rest of it? I had a friend from Snowdown as a child, his family had vines upon vines of the things growing-”

Gale Dekarios.

It had been roughly a year since the public had seen him, and even longer for Florence. The last time they were in the same room, he’d given her a wistful look as she carried her belongings out of the Academy, books tucked under one arm, her bag slung over the opposite shoulder. She’d kept her eyes downcast, and shuffled out the door as her mentor, Vajra Safahr, solemnly escorted her out. Gale had opened his mouth, as if wanting to say something, but quickly closed it and disappeared down the hall. Florence somehow found the idea of him pitying her more mortifying than the whispers as she left Blackstaff Academy for good.

So when she’d heard he’d become a recluse after an erroneous act of devotion to gain Mystra’s approval, she’d wondered if it had felt the same to him as it did her - to lose your chance at greatness because your weakness got in the way. There had been rumors he and the goddess were involved in romantically, beyond the magic and mentorship. The news hadn’t shocked Florence. Gale Dekarios, a man of massive talent with the Art, was also not difficult to look at.

And Mystra was…Mystra.

“Florence, is that you?”

He squinted in her direction right as she attempted to duck behind a fruit crate and clumsily, she dropped the cabbage she had been examining into the dirt.

“Shit.”

She stooped to grab it just as Gale’s fingers reached it, and he held it out in his palm, like some sort of offering.

Contaminated, filthy, don’t touch it, throw it away, throw it away-

“Gale! I-”

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to frighten-”

“-such an idiot, head’s always somewhere else these days-”

They both fell silent, realizing they’d been nervously chattering over one another, and Gale placed his hand on her arm with a soft chuckle. The gesture was tender, unassuming, and a wave of warmth spread through her body in response. No one had touched her in years, save the occasional side-hug from her mother.

“It’s good to see you.” He said earnestly, with a thin-lipped smile as he stood from his crouch beside her. She caught something in his gaze, akin to pity, as he assessed her, and she felt sick.

“Likewise, I…how have you been?” She passed the produce vendor a few coins with an apology and awkwardly carried the cabbage as they stepped to a nearby wall to move away from the busy path.

“I spent most of the last year in my tower, essentially a hermit. Gets rather lonely, but I do at least have-“ he stopped himself and cleared his throat. “Apologies, I’ve…not spoken to anyone but my Tressym in quite some time.”

“I had heard, are you…well?”

“Yes, yes, everyone’s familiar with the rumors.” He waved dismissively, and a shadow crossed his features. “But how are you , Florence? Surely up to something magnificent. As I recall, you were talented with the Art, much more so than our peers…”

“Oh, I…I’m actually…” she released a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, “I have nothing impressive to report, honestly. I work at St. Laupsenn as a potions artificer.”

“St. Laupsenn, truly? I spent a little time convalescing there with a nasty case of ruddy pox. For all their kindness, leaving that place was a relief like no other…” He trailed off. “Surely there are other notable things happening in your life? Extracurriculars? Don’t tell me you’re wasting your talent brewing healing potions for a living…”

“I…have a shift at the Hanging Lantern a few nights every ten-day.”

As the words fell from her lips, Florence realized she’d just told him she moonlighted at one of the most notorious Festhalls in Waterdeep with no further context. She watched his face reveal all his thoughts as he processed what she’d said.

He blushed. “The Hanging Lantern? Ah - not what I’d expected, but I’m sure you - do you…?”

“Oh! Oh no, I hardly have the looks for that-“ she forced a laugh to displace her discomfort, “I play piano. Set the ambiance, you know, so they can do all the hard work.”

She swallowed and glanced over her shoulder.

“Of course! How could I forget! You always had a beautiful way with music, invariably working your craft into how you wielded magic. Truly creative, poetic, even…”

Florence had appreciated his verbosity, and never quite succumbed to the bitter jealousy her classmates had towards Gale. Perhaps he stumbled over words or bragged a bit too much, but at his core, he meant well. She believed that sincerely. However, as she stood in the middle of the market, she wished she was anywhere else as she made small talk with the renowned wizard.

“I ah…I apologize, Gale. You caught me at an inopportune moment. I have actually somewhere to be, but it was lovely catching up with you.” She placed a delicate touch on his forearm. “Perhaps we’ll cross paths again soon?”

“Yes, yes, I hope we do. Don’t let me keep you. It was a pleasure speaking with you.”

If he tried to conceal his disappointment, he did a poor job of it. Gods, he must have been so lonely this past year. She nodded politely and, as she change direction to leave, his smile faltered. She’d gotten several steps away before she heard him clear his throat and call after her.

“Florence?”

“Yes?” She turned, her mind focused on the produce still in her hands. Invisible dirt and grime on her fingers preoccupied her every thought. She yearned to toss it in the nearest bin as fast as she could and scrub underneath her nails until they bled.

“I…for what it’s worth, if you wanted to, I think you have the looks for anything. I’m sure you look lovely at that piano every night.”

She blinked at him as he turned and walked away without another word. Behind her, a rothé reached over the wooden fence of its pen and nibbled at her hand. She stepped away, startled.

“Here,” she said, extending the cabbage to it, “it’s all yours.”

The rothé accepted her offering and dropped it to the earth, grazing at it with appreciation. Florence wiped her hands on the waist of her trousers several times and walked home with an empty market basket and the makings of a headache.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He was in the crowd.

Gods-be-fucking-damned he was in the crowd. She should have never told him where she worked.

Florence set her sheet music on the piano, despite her lack of need for it. She’d memorized everything, but it gave her something to focus on, particularly on nights like tonight when she was prone to distraction. Typically, an over-familiar gentleman would question her about her personal life, or a fight would break out at the bar. Tonight, Gale Dekarios beamed at her and waved cordially from a booth.

Hells.

Surprisingly, the night progressed without incident, and she eventually forgot he was there. Once she’d packed her things into her bag and walked out onto the dimly lit street, Gale was leaning against the side of the tavern, arms crossed in front of him.

“Excellent musicianship.” He complimented her and pushed off the wall. “Apologies if my attendance was disruptive, it’s…been a while since I’ve been out or seen an old friend.”

Friend? She thought to herself. How loosely did this man define friendship? To seek her company. How lonely must he have been?

“Thanks…I rarely have people stop by to listen to me play. I’m more…background noise.”

“I did have to, rather awkwardly, explain my business there when I wasn’t interested in paying for…companionship, but it’s always good to get away from typical comforts…”

She stopped walking and turned to him.

“Gale, I don’t mean to sound unappreciative, but what are you doing here? We haven’t spoken in years - we’re practically strangers and-”

A bright white flash interrupted Florence, and she lifted her gaze to find a strange, tentacled ship tearing through the night sky. People screamed around them and the streets flooded with chaos as bodies collided with one another, stampeding towards hope of escape.

“What in the hells?” Her body was frozen in terror. “Is that a-“

For once in his life, Gale seemed speechless, and as the ship rapidly approached, he cursed and grabbed Florence by the hand.

“Unless you want to see that thing from the inside, I suggest we run.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The tadpole wriggled in her brain like a slithering migraine while her breath fogged the glass of her containment pod. As she returned to consciousness, she kicked and slammed her fists against the window, desperately trying to break out.

A sphincter shaped gate opened across the room, splayed apart in a disturbing manner. Through the fogged window, she glimpsed a githyanki searching the room, trailed by a dark-haired woman with unfortunate bangs and…

Him.

“Help! Get me out! Please!”

Florence prayed her cries would make it through the thick walls of the pod, and to her relief, Gale’s head snapped towards her and he rushed over, investigating the exterior for any indications of weakness.

“There you are! Hold on!” He pressed a hand to the glass to reassure her, and she touched it from the other side.

He’d been looking for her.

Muffled by her vessel of containment, she heard the gith arguing with him, insisting they leave her to die. When he refused, the gith left on her own, and Florence couldn’t blame her. They were wasting valuable time.

She watched him run back and forth across the ship several times before he made any progress, the dark-haired woman lingering near the door until he returned to the pod with a triumphant grin and a strange rune. He inserted it into a nearby console and the seal broke and hissed. A mist rose around her before she was ejected onto her hands and knees, and she struggled to catch her breath, body convulsing as she vomited. Gale rushed to her side, dropping to his knees, and rested his hand on her shoulder with a grimace as she retched.

“Never thought I’d get you out of there.”

“Thanks for saving me.” She panted and wiped her mouth with the back of her arm.

“There will be time to debrief later. The ship’s crashing and if we delay any longer, we’re dead!” Shadowheart yanked Florence from the floor and shoved her towards Gale. He held an arm around her shoulders to steady her.

With a cough, Florence nodded in agreement. “Lead the way.”

They followed the woman through vesseled passageways, using Gale as a support until she got her bearings.

“I see you made friends.” She said as they dodged smoldering piles of ash and carrion as dragons soared dangerously close to the sides of the vessel, screeching and roaring as they set fire to the ship.

“That’s Shadowheart. I found her trapped in a pod, like you.”

“Enough dawdling! We are wasting time.” The githyanki shouted as they met her at the ship’s helm.

“And that’s Lae’zel.” He murmured.

Blocking their path, a Mindflayer fought a large cambion in, and Florence clutched her head as his voice echoed inside of her brain.

“Get to the helm, I’ll hold them back.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Gale said and drew an arcane gate for the four of them. He gripped Florence around the waist and pulled her through, letting go once they stepped through the portal, and began fumbling with the controls. As he did so, a brain with legs and claws scrambled up and stopped at Gale’s feet.

Florence’s eyes widened in alarm, and she instinctively took a step back. “What is that?!” she shrieked.

Gale, his attention still fixed on the console, replied, “I... don’t rightly know, but it seems to be on our side.” He paused for a moment, his brow furrowing. “It called itself Kitty at one point, but I pulled it out of a human skull, so I’m not sure if that’s a comfort.”

“Gods, I’m going to faint.”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t.” Gale responded, and with a final flick of a switch, the console hummed to life, stopping the vessel dead in the air.

“Ha!” He said triumphantly, “See? Everything will be just-“

Suddenly, the ship jolted, emitting a loud creak, and darkness consumed all light in view.

“K’chakhi!” Lae’zel pushed Gale out of the way and studied the console. “You’ve cut the power. We’ll crash!”

“Brace yourselves!” Shadowheart warned. Florence searched for something to hold on to, but when the Nautiloid careened to the side, she slipped through the air with no hope of saving herself. Panic gripped her as she plummeted towards her certain death, the others falling just a few feet above her.

“Take my hand!” Gale’s voice cut through the chaos, grasping for her as they free fell. “There’s a transportation sigil on that rock below. I’ll try to get us there-”

His strained fingertips grazed her skin, and he seized her by the wrist. Midair. He seized her by the wrist and pulled her against him, transporting them from the sky to the arcane sigil. Suspended in time and space, Florence’s panic grew. Gale held her close enough that she could smell the cologne that lingered on his neck. An earthy, spicy blend of cedar, sage, and ginger. Just underneath his shirt, she caught a faint glow. Some sort of magically infused tattoo?

“My magic is…diminished, of late.” He confessed over the dull roar of the void. The sporadic swirls of light inside the sigil illuminated his grim expression. “I can only get one of us out. Find me and-”

She hit the solid ground with a thud before he even finished speaking, and the force knocked the wind from her lungs. Blinded by the sun, Florence squinted and threw a hand in front of her face, looking out at the vast body of water shimmering ahead of her. Time passed differently in magical planes, and it seemed hours had elapsed in the seconds the sigil had trapped them. Fortunately, Gale had transported her to this beach, and not an entirely different dimension.

She pushed herself up from the ground and clapped away the sand sticking to her palms. When she turned, she found the Nautiloid wrecked behind her. From the state of it, survivors were unlikely. She kept vigilant as she moved through the rubble, scanning her surroundings for any signs of Gale.

“I saw you. You were on that ship. You’re one of them.”

A pale, ruby-eyed elf with white hair darted into her path and drew his dagger. She raised her palms in a peaceful gesture.

“I fell from the Nautiloid, abducted, just like you.”

“Do you take me for a fool? You teleported!”

“I don’t have time for this,” Florence grumbled. She pushed past him and stormed up the beach and into the wreckage.

“Wait! Where are you going?” He shouted, too stunned to react.

Ignoring his protests, she wandered through the smouldering remains of the ship until a familiar, whooshing sound of a portal caught her attention. Florence exhaled with relief at the sight of Gale’s arm sticking out of the swirling violet hole.

“A hand? Anyone?”

Without hesitation, she grabbed his arm and pulled with all her strength until the portal spat him out. She fell backwards, and he landed on top of her, inadvertently pinning her down.

“Are you alright?” Concern etched his face as he stared down at her. “I hope I didn’t send you too far...”

“I’m fine, but Gale, what-“ Florence began, her words interrupted by a voice from behind.

“My, my. Seems you found your missing friend.” The elf from the beach was leaning against a nearby boulder, hand still on the hilt of his dagger. A clear warning.

“Ah, I didn’t realize we had company.” With an apology, he scrambled off of Florence and helped her to her feet before turning to the elf.

“I take it you too were the victim of a rather unpleasant ocular insertion?” Gale tapped his temple and brushed himself off, extending a hand. “I’m Gale, of Waterdeep-”

“I suggest you stow that hand if you’d prefer to keep it, wizard.”

“Lovely friend you’ve made already, Florence.” Gale mumbled and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets as he bowed his head to Astarion. “I’d advise you to stow that blade or I’ll have to- ack!”

A sharp, searing pain erupted between Florence’s temples. The world seemed to spin as visions, not her own, flashed before her.

You sat cross-legged in a tavern with a hand atop a young patriar’s, sharing a bottle of wine. His other hand touched your knee, and you kissed him, but your chest caved in with repulsion. You insisted he blow the candles out when you reached his room, and eyes open in the dark, you focused on one spot of light, cast from the window, until it was all over -

The vision stuttered and slipped away, fading into…

Darkness. Never ending darkness. Violet-black of the shadow weave swirling as the mark on your chest throbbed harder than your aching heart. You almost had everything, and you gave it all up to impress her. You failed, never good enough. She’ll never forgive you. She doesn’t want you. Nobody could want you, not if they knew-

Florence held her arms out, grasping for anything to anchor herself as another vision flooded her senses like a crashing wave. Her fingertips brushed against the coarse surface of the boulder, and she leaned on it for support as a surge of alien memories invaded her mind.

Swiftly maneuvering through the streets of Baldur’s Gate, you ran for your life, but it was too-

A thunderous crack suddenly filled her head, causing her to lose her balance and fall on all fours.

The woman at the piano was someone you thought you could have fallen for, once. Her chestnut hair fell across her face as she played, the soft curve of her half-elvish ears peeking through thick waves as her bottom lip jutted out. You recognized that look, the focus in it. Such talent, such promise. What terrible thing befell her? Why did she leave the Academy? You never got a goodbye, but perhaps it was foolish to expect one. But you approached her at the market because she was like a beacon of hope. Something familiar from your past that you wished you’d paid more attention to rather than-

“Ugh!”

As Florence regained consciousness, she blinked furiously to ease the pulsating burn in her head. Her tadpole seemed to wriggle with recognition, then settled, seemingly sated. She spared a glance in Gale’s direction. Sweat trickled down his forehead, his hand pressed tightly against his heart with a pained expression, as he avoided meeting anyone’s gaze.

“What in the hells what that?” The elf demanded.

“I think we were in each other’s heads…” she groaned.

“Well, it seems you were telling the truth, after all.” With an apologetic smile, he sheathed his blade and wiped his hands on his belt.

“Let’s start over. I’m Astarion.”

“Pleasure.” Gale responded sarcastically and stood with a grunt. Strategically, almost possessively, positioned between Florence and Astarion, he supported her as she rose from the ground, not turning his back to their new acquaintance. Once more, the peculiar tattoo caught her attention, visible beneath his shirt collar. It no longer glowed, but in the light she could see that it subtly connected to the crinkle of his eye, as if magic tunneled through the capillaries under his skin.

“Likewise.” Astarion said. “So, do you have any idea what these…things are in our heads?”

“Tadpoles.” Gale said, “It appears our minds are linked. Unless you know a healer, in a few days’ time, we’ll undergo ceremorphosis and become mindflayers.”

“Mindflayers? Ha… ha!” The elf cackled, “of course we will.”

“We should stick together until we find someone who can extract them. There were others on the ship. I’d like to see if they survived the crash as well.”

“The more the merrier.” Astarion’s demeanor was suspiciously cheerful, a stark contrast to their earlier interaction. Florence had worked in a Festhall for three years, she could easily spot a charlatan. But rather than press the issue, she chose instead to concentrate on surviving the night without becoming illithid.

They found Shadowheart unconscious on the beach as they wandered the debris in search of supplies. Procuring bedrolls, some abandoned packs from fishing posts nearby, and a few dinner rations, Gale suggested they regroup and rest until morning.

“Out here? In the wilds?” Florence picked at the skin around her thumb and glanced towards the burning ship behind them.

“Presumably, there won’t be a tavern for miles. I think we’re roughing it.” Gale’s expression seemed genuinely sympathetic, which came as a relief, because she felt quite high maintenance complaining under the circumstances.

Astarion edged closer to her, “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll keep you safe,” and she swore she caught a disapproving scowl on Gale’s face before he retreated to the edge of camp, explaining, with some urgency, that he needed to get a sending spell to someone in Waterdeep to check on his Tressym.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/feedback/constructive criticism (this is not peer read) and a kudos on AO3 if you enjoyed (or feel free to hate-kudos it, I won't mind.)

If you'd like, you can connect with me here on Tumblr or check out my Astarion fic (that features Gale), Forms of Imprisonment!

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale x tav #gale fic #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #named tav #somebody in the hells loves you #baldurs gate oc #slow burn #friends to lovers #mutual pining #wizard tav

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alpydk · 9 months ago

Text

The Circling Sky (Part 1)

New story. Gale x OC (F)

Summary: Lissa comes from a troubled background, an alcoholic father who's caused more problems for her than he's worth dragging her around Faerûn. After being in Waterdeep for a short while it's time for her to move again. Gale has been in Waterdeep since the defeat of the Netherbrain. He's lonely and restless. After receiving news of the death of a friend he decides to travel back to Baldur's Gate. The story follows their journey together and the connections the two outcasts build between each other.

Ao3 Link

“Mr. Dekarios?” She watched as the wizard approached the counter of the Blackstaff Academy library. She’d only been employed a short while and yet each day she had seen this same man enter, requesting various tomes on magic and the weave. She tucked her ashen blonde curls behind her pointed ears, making her face a little more visible to him. He was always such a flirt when he spoke with people, and though she had viewed him as arrogant, she couldn’t help but enjoy it a little when his dark brown eyes would fall on her.

“My dear Lissa, you’re looking as beautiful as ever, one might say the picture of radiance.” His voice was smooth and elegant. She liked how he raised her spirits, even on the days when she’d rather have stayed in bed. She watched the way his clean-shaven jaw moved with each word, distracted by his soft lips.

She handed over the stack of books, letting her hair fall to hide the reddening of her cheeks. “Um, your order, Mr. Dekarios.”

He smiled softly at her. “Gale will do, as I’ve told you before.” He placed a hand over hers as he took the books. She could feel the warmth of his palm, the soft pads of his fingertips as they stroked, taking the pile from her.

Lissa composed herself. Her father had always told her to never trust a wizard. They were nothing but snobbery and unbridled ambition, always full of themselves and blind to the realities of the real world. They believed everything could be solved with one spell or another, choosing mind control over diplomacy, a fireball over flint and tinder. They’d lost their way and so they were not worth listening to. “Mr. Dekarios, just sign this, please.” She slid a sheet of paper across the counter. Her heart was pounding. She hated the effect he had on her.

He delicately signed his name on the page, placing the quill down next to it. “I don’t suppose you’ve decided on whether you’re willing to take me up on that offer of a drink, have you?”

She swallowed the nerves that built up. Of course, she’d thought over it; the idea of sipping wine with him discussing topics such as their love of poetry before inevitably leaving for somewhere more private, something she had heard used to happen often amongst the staff of the library when it came to Mr. Dekarios. But rumours also spoke of this not having happened in a long while. That a new woman had entered his life, his nighttime adventures becoming fewer and further between. “I’ve told you I’m not allowed, we can’t have relations with-”

Gale cut her off. “Not relations, my friend. Merely a drink. A chance to get to know one another.”

She sighed. Getting to know one another? That’s not how the others had described it at all; unless it was getting to know physical aspects of one another. She considered the latter before quickly pushing it aside. “I’m sorry, I will have to decline.”

“Well,” he spoke, and she saw a glimmer of disappointment on his face. “That’s quite alright. You cannot blame a man for trying.” He placed a palm on top of the books. “Until tomorrow then, Lissa.” He bowed his head slightly to her and left, leaving her to release the long-held breath she’d been carrying.

***

“Well, I heard it had been going on for some time. Apparently when he was at the academy.”

“But she wouldn’t do that to him that young, would she?”

“Well, you know these deities, no concept of what age is when it comes to mortals.”

“But he was only seventeen!”

“Old enough for some, it seems.”

Lissa tried not to eavesdrop on the gossip whilst she drank her coffee. Normally it was about relationships between the staff, someone’s new haircut, and generally two-faced complaining. Today it was about Gale Dekarios.

“Well, it certainly explains why he stopped coming around here and poaching on the staff. The last fling was a while ago with that young man from Daggerford.”

“The elf? I always wondered why he seemed so glum. To be used like that and tossed aside. What a horrible young man that Dekarios fellow was.”

“Well, it seems his year away from Waterdeep did him some good. Though I do think the beard suited him better.”

She placed her cup down and left, their comments getting under her skin more than she would have liked. What did she care who he was sleeping with? A relationship with a goddess? A year away from Waterdeep? No doubt to explore and find himself. So, he needed to explore a little more than others, what was wrong with that? She gritted her teeth and walked through the library knowing that in about thirty minutes he would come to collect his new order.

***

Thirty minutes became an hour became the whole afternoon. For the first time in two months, Gale had not collected his books as he usually would. Lissa tapped her fingers impatiently on the counter, mindlessly looking to the main door and then back to the small pile of books at her side.

The voice of her boss drew her out of her thoughts. “Lissa dear, your shift ended ten minutes ago.”

She turned and smiled at the elderly gentleman. “Oh, I know, but Mr. Dekarios has yet to pick up his order. I’m sure he will be here any moment.”

“Well, why don’t you just drop them off on your route home? You go past the docks, right? He has a room not far from there.”

***

Lissa stood in the rain. Her clothes were soaked through and though the books were safe in her bag, she’d been forced to pull it under her cloak meaning her one shoulder was now freezing with no protection from the elements. She’d banged on the door to the tower and was hoping for an answer soon, and yet time seemed to slow down. The longer she stood there, the more she considered just taking the books home with her and then he could collect them directly from the library. Something didn’t feel right though, every day he would pick them up at the same time without fail. She banged the door a little bit harder waiting for a reply.

The locks clicked and the door opened a fraction, Gale’s face peering through the crack. “Lissa?” He opened the door a little more, his normally smart robes unbuckled, revealing a section of his chest.

She turned her eyes from him with a blush. “Mr. Dekarios…” A raindrop ran from her hairline down the back of her neck causing her to shiver involuntarily. She glanced over at him and fumbled with her bag, the cold making it difficult to grip the clasp.

“Don’t just stand on the doorstep, come in, come in.” He ushered her into the hallway of his tower, closing the door behind her. She felt the temperature change instantly, her shivering slowing a little. “Let me get you a towel”

She rubbed at her arms, trying to calm the goosebumps and tension in her system. “Oh, there’s no need. I’m just here to-”

“Now, my dear. It’s quite alright. Let’s get you dried off before you catch your death of cold.” He started to unclip the cloak from around her neck and though she wanted to object she could do nothing but look at the way his eyes focussed on her, a soft smile emerging on her face.

“Books…”

“Books? Ah, yes. My order today.” He took the cloak from her and carried it away with him. Lissa followed, trying to open her pack as she went. “Apologies for not collecting them. There was an unexpected interruption.” He flicked a wrist causing the fireplace to light up, the heat of the flames instantly providing comfort.

She placed the bag down and started to pull the books out but then felt the feeling of Gale’s hand upon her shoulder. Her body tensed ever so slightly and she looked up at him, his soft eyes staring down at her.

“Do not worry about the books just yet. Let's just get you warm and dry first.”

She stood and he rubbed at her upper arms. She noticed how close he was to her, how gentle his touch was, how soft his lips were. Words were forgotten to her as his hand crept from her shoulder to around her ear, rubbing the tip gently with his thumb. Her heart pounded in her chest and for a brief moment, all logic and reason abandoned her. She wanted to kiss him, wanted to feel those soft lips upon hers. He leaned in slightly to her, a small creeping smile emerging.

Never trust a wizard. Her father’s words drifted through her mind at the worst moment, causing her to come to her senses and take a step back. “I’m sorry, Mr. Dekarios.” Her voice trembled but she would hold her own. “I am just here to deliver your books.”

She hurriedly picked up her bag without giving him any chance to apologise and turned for the door.

“Lissa, I didn’t mean…” He had no words for what he had wanted to do, instead letting her leave, her cloak still lying in front of the fireplace.

***

Gale had been intending to leave his tower for his regular walk along the docks to the library. He’d done this every day since he had returned to Waterdeep over two months ago, a mindless routine that got him outside into the fresh air and prevented him from secluding himself as he had previously done.

Since the defeat of the Netherbrain, his travelling companions and he had all gone their separate ways and though he’d returned in good health, the orb quelled, and him back in good favour with Mystra, he often found himself feeling quite lonely. Most of his colleagues at Blackstaff had not even noticed his four-month absence and some had come to believe he had died much earlier than this during his 1 year seclusion. He couldn’t help but feel out of place again now that he had returned to the one place he had longed to be.

The library was his one place of solace, the many shelves of fiction he could lose himself in, adventures that compared little to what he had lived through himself; the books of magic and spells were almost completely memorised over his years of study. If anything he now attended for the various people, those who enjoyed the literary arts, those who were soft-spoken and knowledgeable. He ignored the whispers of the staff who worked there. Many had known him from his earlier years as a student when he was more rambunctious and eager to impress. He’d been an unfortunate soul desperate to connect with others, a young prodigy who at times felt alienated from his peers. Though his time since Mystra had rectified this, he was still known for his past misdeeds, especially amongst the younger of the personnel.

The young half-drow Lissa was one that didn’t seem to listen to the gossip. Each day she was there with a smile, her light blue eyes bright at his approach, and often he was reminded of Tav. He’d tried several times to engage her in deeper conversation to get to know her more, but each time she stuck to her job, never calling him by his first name no matter how much he requested her to. He had noticed the blush though, the way that after a few weeks, she would tuck her blonde hair back just for him, normally letting it hang down for others. He wanted to get to know her better and each day had become a small mission just to interact with her.

The previous day she had turned him down for an evening together and although he’d been a little hurt he wasn’t going to let it affect him. His near death to the orb, to the Netherbrain, to almost everything during his time on the Sword Coast, had given him a lot more confidence in himself and he was slowly feeling like his old outcast self again. Yes, he didn’t fit in completely, but he accepted that now. He had his magic, his charisma, he liked himself, and that’s all that mattered.

The letter lying on the table is what had been preventing his excursion today. He’d read it over several times trying to make sense of the words, trying to find out why someone would create such a lie and send it to him.

Gale Dekarios,

This letter has been written on behalf of Duke Ravenguard.

I hope this letter finds you well. I apologise for his lack of correspondence during these last few months but my duties towards Baldur’s Gate have kept me quite occupied. I’m sorry to hear about the passing of Tav, I know you both were close.

Enclosed is a copy of the book Magic of the Weave - An Introduction, they said you’d left it at camp one day by accident. I will try to visit Waterdeep during the spring providing I find the time. Look after yourself.

Yours sincerely

Wyll Ravenguard (Grand Duke of Baldur’s Gate)

None of it made sense. Tav had been well when they parted, apparently wanting to continue adventuring, but to die so suddenly? Gale turned the paper over trying to find any sign of deception. The seal had been official, the paper and ink of high quality, and even the courier had been official from Baldur’s Gate. The banging at the door didn’t register the first time, the questions taking his attention. As they faded from his mind, he heard the noise and opened the door to find Lissa standing in the pouring rain.

His initial reaction had been to want to grab her and just be held by her, to have someone with whom he could mourn, but he barely knew her and Lissa had always viewed him with complete professionalism meaning he could not burden her with such troubles. He invited her in with the hope that he would not feel lonely on this night, still questioning the contents of the letter, denying that Tav could even be gone. As he rubbed her shoulders to warm her, his emotions had gotten the better of him, making him long for an escape from the realities of his current situation. Lissa had smiled and blushed. She’d gazed up at him caringly in the same way Tav had all those months ago and for a moment he had believed that it was his friend with him again. It was only as she stepped back that he realised his mistake, losing himself in the moment with her.

Gale hadn’t wanted to let her leave, his thoughts spiralling further down than they had in a long time. All he could do was stand and watch the flames of the fireplace, wishing that he just had one friend in this moment of loss.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale bg3 #galemance #bg3 fanfiction #fanfiction #angst #very angsty fanfic being written

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imperator-titus · 1 month ago

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Be My Juice Box Ch. 10

I always try to have something to say, but I don't really right now! I should add the "just get married already" tag to this story already lol New Years Eve party at the Dekarios Tower! A brief glimpse of Morena. I tried to expand on the background for Gale/Astarion coming to Terra and staying there but I'm fairly certain I've contradicted myself at this point and I am only digging that grave deeper with every attempt to make sense of the worldbuilding. If I rewrote this story, I'd probably dedicate quite a bit of time to sitting down and figuring out what feels more right

New Years was a big to-do for Gale. It was not just the symbolic end of one year and the start of the next, but the vague birthday of magic on Terra and the day he and many Torilians ended up there.

Gale always thought he was the cause, because it just so happened to coincide with one of his experiments. Upon his first return to Toril, after figuring how to return, Mystra insisted that it was just that, coincidence, and cosmic forces were at work.

Nevertheless, Gale Dekarios was one of the protectors of magic on Terra. His tower sat on top of a wellspring of magic, through which the Weave was able to enter this plane. There were others, similarly guarded by archmages. It was through these wellsprings that one could pass from one plane to the other at the expense of a great amount of magic.

For a while, Gale saw himself as an extension of Mystra, allowing the Weave to bless this plane in her stead. He was certain that, with enough time and effort, the people of Terra would become capable of manipulating magic.

Thus he started a satellite campus of Blackstaff, originally in the hopes of cultivating magic in this plane’s people. When Torilians like him had trouble with Terran technology, it also became a place to solve problems like Professor Dekarios getting stuck in the elevator again.

So it was little wonder that Gale was so eager to show Rowan the portal hidden deep within his tower, to be there to greet his mother as she stepped through.

“Is it not marvelous?” he asked with an odd amount of expectation, leaning in to gauge her reaction.

“It’s certainly remarkable,” Rowan answered, lacking the outward enthusiasm Gale was hoping for. She stared at it nonetheless, idly questioning why it happened or how it worked.

“Stop trying to recruit my companion for your silly little experiments.”

In all his resplendent beauty, Astarion huffed with annoyance. With a jeweled hand on Gale’s shoulder, he pulled the man away. Just a tiny bit of doubt crept into his mind, warning him that the wizard was seconds away from pushing Rowan into the open portal.

Somewhere he couldn’t go and protect her from the scary things that lurked on the other side.

Like the plethora of people ready to kill a vampire if it was bold enough to come back after being tolerated in Terra.

Gale smirked at Astarion, but he said to Rowan, “Oh! You’ve been upgraded to companion now! That’s exciting.”

Astarion lifted a brow. “Why would it be exciting?”

“He learned it from the Tabaxi and Minotaur that run the tea and coffee place over on Thirteenth,” Rowan explained absently as she took some pictures of the portal.

“Oh, Astarion…”

“What? They are two people who live together who have a mutually beneficial arrangement. It’s the same thing.”

“They’re definitely fucking,” Rowan was the one to say, confirmed by the look Gale was giving him. “Although, I don’t really understand how… Kind of a Chihuahua trying to hump a Great Dane situation…”

Astarion rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I think I would know something like that.”

The witty retort Gale had ready died on his tongue as the portal changed, causing Rowan to practically leap back.

Through it came no other than the inimitable, the illustrious, Morena Dekarios.

“Oh! My darling boy!” she cried with joy, holding out her arms to embrace her son. Gale was more than happy to oblige.

Awkwardly, Astarion and Rowan looked in any other direction.

“Mother, you remember Astarion,” Gale said as they parted, indicating his friend.

With a scary amount of accuracy, Astarion knew the exact moment when he had to stop finding the wall so interesting and turn on his charm. Smooth words and delicate movements came easily to him when presented with a grand dame like Morena.

Gale once told Rowan that Astarion was once quite bad at flirting, even though he’d been doing it for hundreds of years to lure in prey for his master.

Rowan could understand, because she’d hear him say something off-putting to Gale or herself and wonder how he managed to lure anyone in with just his words.

Of course, it still worked…

But that was with friends. Almost as if being a horrible flirt was his true personality and not just a result of picking up blind-drunk nobodies who couldn’t tell that his teeth were a little sharp and his eyes were more red than brown.

But here he was, bowing flamboyantly and not-quite-kissing her knuckles with a proper gentlemanly show of respect.

“It is always a pleasure to be in the presence of such a magnificent creature,” Astarion purred, looking up at Morena through his lashes, a coy little smirk on his lips.

Despite sashaying through this dance many times before, Morena still swooned. “Oh, Lord Ancunín, you know just how to make this old lady feel youngagain.”

Out of the way, Rowan and Gale rolled their eyes.

“Mother, I have someone else I want to introduce you to,” Gale piped up, grabbing Rowan by the elbow and shooing her forward, hoping to dissuade his mother from being pulled too far into Astarion’s orbit.

“It is so wonderful to finally meet the new lady in my boy’s life. I have heard so much about you,” Morena remarked after they were properly introduced. Her dark eyes sparkled with delight.

“Only bad things, I hope,” Rowan answered. Morena laughed raucously.

“My Gale was right, you are funny! I am willing to bet you’re just as interesting.” Morena took Rowan by the elbow and started pulling her away, excitedly sharing a story about her son.

Rowan wasn’t really paying attention, as she was too busy giving Astarion and Gale a panicked look over her shoulder, begging to be rescued.

Gale merely chuckled and waved at her. When he turned to his friend, Astarion was glaring up at him.

“What is the problem? I didn’t let you kiss my mother’s hand long enough for you to slip off a ring?” Gale asked with a mix of concern, annoyance, and humor.

“Why is your mother under the impression that Rowan’s your girlfriend?” Astarion asked nastily.

Gale’s brows furrowed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You all crack jokes about how I didn’t figure out that the cat was getting his cream straight from the source, but you can’t see that Morena spilling all of your embarrassing childhood stories is a clear sign that she thinks you’ve invited her to meet the new bedwarmer.”

Realization dawned on Gale’s face.

Internally, he dedicated some brainpower to rehearsing how he’d break the news to his mother. She’d be heartbroken, but he couldn’t let her live a lie, even if she spun it herself.

“Why do you care so much?” he asked Astarion suspiciously.

“I don’t,” Astarion lied.

Gale looked away and made his way back to the regular parts of his home.

“So be it.”

“But you have to tell her it’s not true.”

Nodding, Gale’s voice remained neutral. “I agree.”

Astarion’s glare sharpened. “Because it’s not.”

Sparing his friend a passing sharp glance of his own, Gale bit back, “I said I agree. There’s no need to be jealous.”

Chuckling derisively in a failed attempt to hide how accurately the comment struck, Astarion asked in fake concern, “Has the wine gotten to your head already?”

“I do so love our chats, Astarion, but I have a mother to disillusion.”

Astarion later found Rowan fussing with the many fingerfoods she brought despite Gale’s insistence that she not worry herself.

She held out a full glass of wine to him. “Can you drink this?”

“Can I?” he purred as he took it from her delicately. With a lifted eyebrow, he feigned a sniff. “What’s wrong with it? Morena trying to poison you already?”

“She was very adamant I try some because it’s such a good vintage,” Rowan started to explain, pausing to eat something before rearranging the plate to hide that something was missing. “I didn’t have the heart to tell her that wine makes me sick and it doesn’t taste good enough to power through.”

“More for me,” Astarion told her with a wink. More conspiratorially, he asked, “What did Morena have to say about her beautiful brown-eyed baby boy?”

“Oh, I don’t…” Rowan looked away pointedly at the floor, clearly embarrassed.

“Gods, it can’t be that bad.”

“It was mostly just ‘I’m so glad he found someone normal’ and…” Rowan pressed her hands to her abdomen in a prodding nature. Glaring down at it worriedly, she asked, “Am I getting fat again?”

“Stop that,” Astarion told her firmly. When she didn’t seem to hear him, he grabbed her hands.

It was, he told himself, to keep her from making a mess of the new vest and shirt he’d encouraged her to get, but it was also a nice excuse just to touch her.

“I think you’re perfect,” he said, giving her hands a squeeze.

Rowan continued to look down, partially out of shame. Mumbling, she started to argue, “The meds made me gain a few-”

Astarion hooked a finger under her chin and tilted it up to look into his eyes.

“I said you. Are. Perfect,” Astarion repeated very deliberately, over-enunciating with his beautiful lips and tongue.

Rowan’s face went red just as a strange feeling settled in her stomach.

Astarion let go of her chin, occupying his hands with his wine glass instead.

“Besides, I’m sure Morena merely misspoke. She isn’t as well-versed in Terran speech as the rest of us.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

“Of course I am, my sweet. Finally, someone who recognizes my genius.” Rowan giggled at his dramatic collapse, as if his ‘genius’ had been weighing him down this whole time.

Then a chime sounded, announcing the arrival of some of Gale’s other guests. As energetic music started to play and the lights changed into softer, moodier colors, Rowan smiled at him awkwardly, but playfully.

“Good hunting, yeah?” she tried to say, stumbling over the syllables a little. She imagined herself being cartoonishly bonked on the head with a big frying pan. At least that would explain how ridiculous she was being.

“You too,” Astarion responded quite cheerily before turning away. Inside, he thought, “Ugh! What a daft thing to say…”

Rowan merely smiled to herself, amused by his small mistake.

While Rowan wasn’t much for parties, she liked supporting Gale and it made her look less like a homebody. She was capable of light conversation, usually with Gale’s more academically-minded guests, but eventually, as all parties did, it became a little too much.

Morena apologized for her misunderstanding and complimented the food she brought. Gale also apologized on behalf of his mother and made certain several times throughout the night that she was fine.

Astarion eventually found her sitting to the side, sipping away at a drink.

If she hadn’t forbidden him from skimming her thoughts, he’d have no anxiety. He’d find that she was concentrating on staying awake, just thinking her thoughts, letting things pass her by.

She had no clue that he was doing his own checking in, listening to the thoughts of people speaking to her to judge their intentions.

He had some idea in his head that someone would try to take advantage of her vulnerable state. A lonely widow on New Year's Eve? An easy target.

Perhaps that was projection.

If he was being honest, Astarion was disappointed that no one seemed interested in her. How was he supposed to swoop in and save her from some drunk fool who couldn’t see what a catch she was? Where was the fun if his cape didn’t snap in some ruffian’s face as Astarion dramatically whisked his companion away towards the dance floor, where they would draw shocked stares?

If she knew of his little fantasy, Rowan would offer him a wry laugh that would hide her smile. She’d tell him he was being silly, that he didn’t need to live up to this image of a grand romantic lead.

But he wouldn’t need to skim her thoughts to know that, despite her protestations to the contrary, she had that fantasy as well. A girlish desire to be swept off her feet by someone so far above her value that they may as well have been a living god. To be loved so completely after being ignored for so long.

Their soft signs of friendly affection made her realize that maybe it wasn’t vain to want just one person to make her feel special every day.

Maybe that person wasn’t going to be an Astarion or a Gale, but what was the harm in putting a fantastic spin on things when she escaped into her imagination?

“Do you like plants so much that you’ve decided to become one?” Astarion asked her smoothly, his lips pulled into a playful smirk.

Rowan was confused for just a split second before she chuckled. “You’re funny.”

“I can tell that you don’t actually think so, but I will take that as a compliment anyway.”

Maintaining her gentle smile, she explained, “What I really meant to say was that you’re stupid, in a silly way, but I didn’t think you’d take it kindly.”

It was his turn to laugh, something that would normally be forced, but in this moment, it practically fell out of him. “My dear, everything you say is like music to my pointyears.”

Rowan’s smile broadened briefly as he showed off his assets. “Someone’s been having fun.”

“Not until I set eyes on you.”

Despite him being at his most sincere, Astarion’s words only elicited an exasperated roll of her eyes. Rowan didn’t believe him and assumed he had some other intentions. Perhaps get her to do something for him, or just be the subject of his flirtations until he got bored. A few months ago, she would’ve assumed he was making fun of her.

Unamused, she asked, “What do you want?”

Affronted, but only for effect, Astarion placed a hand over his heart. “Must I want something? Isn’t it enough to be in your presence?”

Eying him suspiciously, Rowan wondered aloud, “Are you drunk?”

“Maybe a little.” Unintentionally, Astarion giggled. “Maybe more than a little. How about you?”

Before Rowan could answer, he took her drink out of her hand and gave it a sniff. Clearly disappointed, he scrunched his nose. “Just a soda? It’s not like you’re my driver.”

Rowan’s face went blank, almost cold, and her voice was clipped when she told him, “You’re being kind of obnoxious right now.”

Well, that stung. The air had been knocked out of Astarion’s sails.

He recovered quickly.

Rowan reached to take her drink back, only for him to move it away.

“That’s because you’re not having fun. I’ve come to save you from your mundane little evening.”

“Annoy someone else,” Rowan snapped at him. Probably the strongest emotion she’d shown to him in a long time.

Astarion only had the presence of mind to softly gasp in shock.

Somewhere, in some quiet place in the tower, Rowan found a spot where she could lean comfortably and stare out the window.

She felt bad about how she spoke to him. It wasn’t his fault, he’d only caught her in that moment when a party was becoming unbearable.

All she wanted to do was go home, but she kept pushing herself to see it through. Gale would be so disappointed if she left early. She couldn’t live the rest of her life chained to Astarion’s home.

But she liked it there. It was comfortable and safe, not too small, not too big. She liked having a fire and she rarely had to clean, although she’d sometimes beat the magical cleaning service to the punch out of sheer habit.

And she liked spending time with Astarion, in either form. He was just a little bit clingy and touchy, and, despite not liking the touch of strangers and needing her own space, she liked that. He had a weird sense of humor and found her funny. His handsomeness made her self-conscious, feeling like a burlap sack of potatoes standing next to him, but he had a way of looking at her that made her feel like she was the showcase piece in an art gallery.

“I’m okay,” Rowan said aloud, admiring the warp of the handmade glass in the windows. “I’m sorry for being harsh.”

Astarion gaped like a fish out of water for a moment. The whole way here, he’d been constructing some grand apology. He didn’t expect her to beat him to the punch.

“How did you know it was me?” he eventually asked.

“You walk a certain way, when you don’t want to sneak up on me.”

Somehow, that made him… happy. “As adorable as it is to see you startle, I always feel awful for giving you a fright.”

With those same deliberate steps, Astarion came to stand beside her and lean on the windowsill as well.

“I… am sorry as well. I don’t know what I did wrong, I wanted you to have fun-”

“I know,” she cut him off before he could run at the mouth.

“If you want to go home and be alone-”

“I want to go home, but I don’t want to be alone.”

Astarion stared at her, a little confused. Confusion was better than having his hopes crushed.

“I like you better when it’s just us. Or with Gale. It feels… real.”

“It’s all me, my dear,” he argued, although gently. “But… I understand. I wanted to have fun with you in a crowd. I suppose not all of us were built for one.”

A moment passed where Rowan really had to think about what he said and how she wanted to respond. Astarion debated leaving her to her solitude, instead of suffocating in her silence.

When she turned to look at him, just a little up, making her eyes big, the moonlight making them shine, he was glad that he didn’t go quite yet.

“You really wanted to spend time with me?”

“Of course. You’re my friend,” he answered as if it should have been obvious. A little less assuredly, taking his anxiety out on a piece of mortar, he added, “I like you too. When it’s just us. It’s… comfortable. Like a pair of well-worn boots. We fit together nicely, I think.”

A good night’s worth of blood made his eyesight keen enough that he could see the color rise on her cheeks before she turned back to the window. Her heartbeat pounded on his eardrums, competing with the rush of fresh blood in his ears.

“What… did you have in mind?” Rowan asked shyly.

“Hm? Oh! Right.” Astarion chuckled in his own shy way. “You would laugh if I told you.”

“You don’t want to make me laugh?”

“It’s a tale of… puerile fancy.”

“Now I have to hear it.”

“I… thought I’d find you talking to someone. Someone who… would be trying to take you home, or just some quiet corner. But not because they like you, but because they think you’re plain and a little sad, sitting by yourself trying to blend into the woodwork.

“And I would swoop in! And rescue you. Whisk you away onto the dancefloor, and adore you like you deserve. Because you’re smart and witty. And you’re kind, but have a spine strong enough to tell a wizard and a vampire to go fuck themselves.

“But you don’t need rescuing. And I have known my share of valiant princes. I am more-”

“A handsome scoundrel?”

“Yes,” Astarion agreed with a face-lining grin. “You do know me so well.”

Rowan laughed, just as he said she would, but a hard lump didn’t make itself known in his stomach. weighing him down with disappointment.

“I had the same idea. But I think Gale is too careful about who he keeps around.”

“You’re right. There’s only room for one degenerate at this party.”

Steeling her nerves, she still had to whisper, “I’m not a very good dancer.”

Astarion chuckled in the back of his throat. “I know. I’ve seen you when you think no one’s looking.”

Rowan had to refrain from hitting him reflexively. Instead, she glared at him sharply.

“Don’t look at me like that. I like watching you. You look… free.”

Forgiving him for being a little spy, Rowan offered him her hand.

Astarion took it gently, as if she might change her mind or it would break from his touch.

With one hesitant step forward, their bodies touched. His other hand hovering over her back, he asked, “May I?”

“You may,” she answered, preparing herself for the sensation. She expected him to be cold, like he was so often before he went out at night. Instead, his hand was a bit warm, or at the very least less like ice.

They started to sway in place, like so many couples who couldn’t dance do.

“I don’t like being touched,” Astarion admitted as Rowan placed a hand on his shoulder, “but I do when it’s you.”

“I feel the same way,” Rowan said shyly. Then realizing her statement didn’t make much sense, she added, “The other way around, I mean. I like when you touch me.”

All Astarion had to do was smirk and her face went bright red.

Astarion tried to guide her into doing a more complex step, only to have his toes stepped on and their balances disrupted.

Thus bringing them closer together.

“I… never realized how warm you get,” Rowan said quietly after she gained a little confidence with a basic waltz.

“On a very good night, even my cold dead heart beats again.”

Astarion thought she stumbled, but instead, Rowan merely leaned forward to press her ear against his chest. She settled there, nestled against his collarbone, listening to the slow, steady beat of his undead heart.

This could go on for only so long before Rowan had to remind them both of why they were there.

“It’s getting late, we might miss it,” she said suddenly, removing herself from his grasp.

Astarion didn’t want to let go, but he did. Her warmth lingered on the skin he held her with.

Rowan didn’t want to go either, but she had to get away before the little seed of guilt in her stomach took root.

By the time they returned to the party, there was only a few minutes left before midnight. Everyone gathered around the very accurate clock that Gale put out for such occasions.

On the edge of the crowd, Astarion and Rowan stood side-by-side.

Astarion was wondering if he was overthinking their relationship. It had certainly changed, but was it platonic, like him and Gale? Sure, they’d tried to be more a few times over the centuries, but it never stuck…

Rowan was thinking some of the same things. Was she interpreting his flirty nature as interest? And if it was interest, how did she feel about that?

Excited, obviously. Astarion was handsome and charming and wealthy, although she still didn’t quite understand how. He had so many good qualities that made Rowan feel inferior, as if it would be some miracle that someone like him would like her, but he never made her feel like that anymore. He was a little weird and she liked that about him too.

But she was also scared. What would it be like, to try again at love? Was she ready? Was it too soon? She gave herself permission to be happy again, but she couldn’t help feeling a little guilty, like it meant that she didn’t care. Maybe it was unfair, to place the burden of being her second love on Astarion. Would he always worry if he was living up to old expectations? If he should exceed them?

People started to get excited as the clock ticked ever closer to midnight.

“Did you have someone in mind?” Astarion asked her, loudly enough to be heard over the electric buzz of partygoers but quietly enough to not draw attention.

Confused, Rowan looked up at him with knitted brows. “For what?”

People began to shout in unison, counting down the last seconds of the last day of the year.

“Don’t you people-”

The realization slammed into her. “Oh!”

Two!

Eyes lowering in anticipation, Astarion leaned towards her.

One!

Rowan leaned away, her eyes wide in shock.

Even in the low light, the hurt was obvious in his eyes as he gave her space.

Astarion accepted her answer, had an apology and some reassurances ready on his lips while those around them met in celebratory passionate kisses.

Somewhere, Gale and Morena and Tara Dekarios exchanged familial pecks of excitement for the new year together.

Reaching for his shoulder, Rowan rose to her toes. In a rather reckless and desperate way, she pulled him towards her by the back of his neck.

His apology never went voiced. The force of her lips on his threatened to cut the inside of his mouth on his own fangs.

The touch did not linger, but the tingle it left felt everlasting.

“I think… it is time to go home?” Astarion suggested uncertainly, resisting the urge to run his fingertips over his lips.

With a lump in her throat and a heat burning her ears, Rowan nodded.

In the car, after a few minutes, Rowan placed her hand in the space between them.

Very delicately, afraid that he would misunderstand this as well, Astarion placed his hand on top and curled his fingers into her grip.

Rowan took hold of his hand, her thumb pressed against his fingers.

They said nothing, choosing to look out of their respective windows as the world continued on its celestial journey as if nothing had happened at all.

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