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slusheeduck · 1 year ago

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For Want Of A Wish

Three years after saving the world from the Netherbrain, Falerin and Astarion have carved out their own cozy corner of the world. But Astarion is still trapped in the dark by his vampirism, and Falerin's illness threatens to shorten their happily ever after. With the promise of a Wish granted by Falerin's patron, the two embark on a journey into the Feywild to get the full happy ending they've dreamed of.

But only one Wish can be granted, which means there's a choice to be made: a short life together in the sun, or a long one in the shadows?

“Astarion, love? Could you move the table? I would, but I’ve got to babysit this sauce.”

Astarion looked up from his book, then down in his lap. “Zel’s trapped me, I can’t.”

Falerin looked over his shoulder, peering through the doorway, then groaned. “Move the cat, dear.”

“But she’s so comfortable.” The vampire scratched under the tabby’s chin, earning a deep purr from her. “Yes, I know, dearest. This is why I’m your favorite,” Astarion cooed.

“Neither of us are going to be her favorite if Gale teleports in and smashes our table to bits, Astarion.”

Astarion heaved out a sigh, making a face, and he set his book aside to scoop up Zel—with no small amount of protest. “Yes, yes, I know. Unspeakable cruelty. You can let Gale have an earful when he shows up.”

With the cat carefully deposited back on the seat, Astarion headed to the dining room by way of the kitchen. Falerin—half-drow hero of Faerûn, survivor of the illithid threat, fey-favored warlock—was in a far-too-frilly apron. His eyes—one black, the other a bright, unnatural purple—were focused hard on a pot bubbling away on the stove, concentration only broken as Astarion’s hand pushed through his recently cropped hair, fingers untangling the deep red strands (along with a small amount of gray ones). He tried to roll his eyes, but a smile escaped as Astarion caught his hand and brought his knuckles to his lips.

“Your hands are cold, love,” the vampire murmured. “Is it a bad day?”

Falerin’s smile faltered a bit. “No, just a normal one. Same as the ones before.” He pulled his hand back, grabbing a wooden spoon to give the pot a stir. “You don’t need to worry. Well, not about me. You should worry about our table.” He gave a little nod toward the door.

Astarion watched him silently for a moment, but he did indeed go to the dining room. It took a breath and some amping himself up—he never had been very strong, and a wonderfully domestic three years certainly hadn’t helped—but he pushed their dining table toward the wall.

“We have a garden,” he called to Falerin, hands on his hips. “He could teleport there instead of risking our furniture every visit. You know, they’ve got a permanent circle in the city, too.”

“Apparently it’s hard to change from where you received the associated object you use. Since we gave it to him in the dining room, that’s where he goes.”

“That sounds like someone’s being lazy.”

“I’ll have you know that nothing about my magical abilities is the result of laziness,” came a voice from just behind Astarion, accompanied by a whoosh of air and the prickle of magic in the air. The vampire turned around, hand on his hip as he gave Gale a lazy smile.

“Well, well, look what the tressym dragged in,” he said, then glanced down at the bottle in his hand. “Is that for us?”

“Waterdhavian Field’s Finest—that’s the actual name of it, and trust me, it does live up to it.” Gale grinned as he passed it off for Astarion’s inspection. “I did spot a bottle of Darkest Delights—it’s a bloodwine that’s supposed to be superb, but I thought that might be a touch insensitive, considering.”

“Ha. I’ll get some glasses. Fal’s in the kitchen, but do be a dear and move the table back to the middle of the room before you say hello.” Astarion patted Gale’s arm as he passed by him. “If you haven’t wasted all that muscle you built up three years ago playing with magic, anyway.”

Gale gave a long-suffering sigh, but he did indeed move the table back—after so many visits, he knew right where it should go. “I’ll have you know that I keep myself quite balanced these days. Well, in between the talks, the retelling of defeating the netherbrain to adoring fans, basking in the limelight—honestly, should’ve saved the world years ago.”

“Mm, does all the handshaking you do as the local hero help with your jacking off, too?”

“Astarion.” Falerin, coming in from the kitchen, gave the vampire’s side a gentle whack as he poured their drinks, then grinned and went to pull Gale in for a hug. “So glad you made it. We’ll have to go up and visit you again soon, save you some trouble.”

“And miss seeing my favorite person here?” Gale looked down, giving a grin as Zel slunk her way around his ankles. “Oh, look at you! You’re such a lovely thing.” He scratched under her chin just right, earning a purr of approval as he stood up to take his wine. “Tara sends her love, by the way. She hates teleporting, or she would have come with.”

“I do want to visit with your mother again,” Astarion said, dropping into a seat. “She’s such a lovely woman.”

“You spent the entire time gossiping about me with her.”

“I know. She’s such fun.”

Falerin chuckled around his sip of wine, then hummed, waving his glass toward Gale. “You said you had a lead on something for us? Is it the Ring of the Sun-Walker?”

“Not quite. Something better.” Gale’s face lit up, the way it always did when he had new information to share, but he tempered it. “But…dinner first. What you’ve cooked up smells amazing.”

“Your Elminster’s showing,” Astarion drawled.

“You bite your tongue.”

“Ladies, please, you’re both pretty,” Falerin said, holding up his hand. That earned a snort from both other men, and he smiled. “I’ll get dinner served, and then you can tell us more.”

Dinner had become a regular occurrence, and this one wasn’t much different from the others they’d shared for the past three years. Gale shared where he was with his magic—forgiveness from Mystra, it turned out, hadn’t meant he’d automatically gained his archmage status back, but he was getting closer every day. Astarion filled him in on the more ridiculous embroidery orders he’d gotten, while Falerin often just listened, sharing whatever odd story he’d picked up since they’d last met.

It was more than just a friendly catch-up, though. As they’d settled into their post-illithid lives, one thing still needed fixing: Astarion’s vampirism. They could get around most things fairly easily—the Neverwinter Wood was close enough for a periodic hunt, and the local butcher had been persuaded, by way of regular payments of gold and a free wedding gown for his daughter, to come to a no-questions-asked agreement with them. As for invitations, a simple “May I come in?” did the job just fine, plus it got them a reputation as the most polite couple in Neverwinter.

But the sun stayed out of reach, and as comfortable as their life was now, it was clear being trapped in the dark again was wearing on the elf. So, when the possibility of anything to help him step back into the daylight arose, all three jumped on it. All false starts so far, but the most recent lead—the Ring of the Sun-Walker—had seemed like a viable one, and Gale had thrown himself into his research to find it.

But, of course, there was no reason not to mix business and pleasure, especially with friends, so tonight’s dinner passed much the same as their usual ones, albeit with a tinge of excitement permeating through the meal.

“You know, someone finally asked about why I only work at night,” Astarion said as the last bites were had. “Most people just assume I’m eccentric. Of course, Falerin helps with that perception.”

Falerin rolled his eyes. “You to swim in a water clock’s pool one time…”

“But our latest client—lovely dwarven woman, she wants a keepsake pillow for her mother—made a mention of how hard it was to reach me, on account of the fact I’m only available in the evening, and that I should really consider working during the day. But before I could say anything, she goes beet red and starts apologizing profusely. ‘Oh, that was so rude, of course you don’t work during the day,’ she said. ‘You’re a moon elf!’” Astarion laughed before draining his wine glass. “I could barely keep it together until she left, absolutely in stitches.”

“Are you?” Gale asked, refilling his glass. “A moon elf, I mean.”

“Well, what else would I be with this hair? Oh, gods, don’t tell me you thought I was a wood elf.”

“I wasn’t sure! It doesn’t seem like the sort of thing one asks.”

“Maybe you were a drow and you forgot,” Falerin teased with a grin made sleepy with wine, food, and good company. “Which is why you liked me so much.”

“Oh, hush, you’ve known I was a moon elf for years now.” Astarion rolled his eyes before looking back to Gale. “It’s one of the few things I do remember. Can’t tell you what I looked like, of course, or any real specifics on my family before I died, but that stuck.” He paused for a moment, then looked back to Falerin. “We should charge more during the full moon. Say I do my best work then.”

Falerin chuckled, patting Astarion’s hand. “You’re going to stop getting clients if you charge too high, you know.” He looked over to Gale, sitting up straight. “Anyway, we’re done with dinner and we’ve a bit of time before it’s dark enough to go to the garden for dessert. Tell us what you’ve found with the Ring of the Sun-Walker.”

“Ah, but I said it wasn’t exactly about that.” Gale leaned forward with a smile. “It’s something better and, more importantly, accessible.” He looked between the two. “Have you heard of Wish?”

“If you’re going to say I can toss a couple coins into a well and go out into the sun, I’m going to bite you,” Astarion said flatly.

Gale shook his head. “No, no. It’s stronger than making a wish.” He spread his fingers on the table. “It’s a spell. Very, very high level. But anything you desire is yours.” He half-smiled. “Honestly, I thought it was a myth—the stories I heard about it seemed too good to be true: loved ones brought back from the dead, limbs being regrown, entire villages, waylaid by war, rebuilt in an instant. But I decided to look into it, and it is real. Or, at least, as real as any of our other options.”

Falerin squinted. “What’s the catch with it?”

“For the recipient? If it’s perfectly cast, none. It’s incredible,” Gale said, breathless with excitement. “You can simply reshape reality, like that.” He snapped for emphasis.

Astarion looked between them, absently swirling his wine glass. “But there’s something stopping you from casting it right now—or telling Fal how to cast it.”

Gale looked over at Astarion, and he let out a little sigh. “Yes, well, that’s where it gets tricky. Like I said, it’s a very high-level spell…and, on average, it only has about a 33% chance of working. Even with where I was before, it’d be, at most, a 50% chance of it working.” He folded his arms on the table. “And it needs to be cast perfectly. The stress of it is hard enough on the caster, but anything less than perfect concentration could result in…less than ideal circumstances. For instance, you want a very valuable item, but you get transported right to where the item’s being held—and caught for stealing it.” He shrugged. “Or the stress just kills the caster outright.”

Falerin made a face. “There it is. There’s always a catch.”

Astarion scowled. “Why bring it up if it’s not something we can use?” he asked irritably, not looking any bit mollified as Gale’s finger went up.

“Because it is. Wish can be cast by entities other than mortals. Gods, for instance, though they rarely grant it. But in a number of the successful Wishes I’ve researched, people have gone down a different path.” He looked to Falerin. “They’ve asked the fey.”

Falerin’s eyes widened. In his purple eye, there was an undeniable spark. “Oh.”

Astarion looked at him. “You already have a fey patron,” he said quietly, catching on.

“Exactly, you’ve done the hard part, Fal,” Gale said. “You’ve already earned their favor. So, if anyone would be able to negotiate a Wish…”

The table fell silent, the potential of this new option buzzing in the air around them. Finally, Falerin looked over at Astarion.

“It could do more than let you go in the sun,” he said quietly. “You could be cured, love. Be free of vampirism altogether.”

Astarion sucked in a breath, eyes flicking over Falerin’s face. “Cured,” he repeated softly. There was something odd in his expression, almost calculating, but he looked back to Gale before Falerin could press. “So that’s it, then? We just go to Fal’s patron and ask for a Wish?”

“It’s going to be more work than that,” Falerin said knowingly, crossing his arms. “My patron…she’s generous, really, but she’s still fey.” He worked his jaw for a moment. “We’re probably…” He glanced to the window, then did a double-take. “Oh shit, it’s already dark. I still have to get the tart from Lettie.”

“Why didn’t you get it before?” Astarion asked.

“I was babysitting the sauce!” Falerin hopped up from the table, nearly tripping over Zel as he did. “I’ll be just a few minutes, she owes me for clearing her gutters. I’ll meet you in the garden!”

Astarion puffed out a laugh as the half-drow stumbled out the door. “He’s still a bit fey-touched, in case you were wondering,” he said to Gale with a fond smile. “He was already clearing her gutters before she asked, as a front for climbing up them like a godsdamn menace.”

Gale snorted. “Why was he climbing them?”

“‘Felt like it,’” Astarion said in a pitch-perfect imitation of Falerin. He let out a sigh as he glanced to the door, then slid his eyes over to Gale. “Speaking of our mutual warlock…” His voice dropped and softened. “Have you found anything for his heart yet?”

Gale sighed. “He still hasn’t asked me to look.”

“Of course he hasn’t. He never talks about it.” Astarion leaned forward, red eyes on Gale’s. “But I know you’ve been looking all the same.”

Gale rubbed his face. “Of course I have,” he whispered. “But I’m no healer.” He gestured in frustration, hands flicking open. “There are ways to extend life magically, of course, but he already has fey magic in him. And that’s such a…a wild and unpredictable thing that there’s no way to know how it will react to using the Weave. And that’s not getting into trying to fix his heart itself.” He let out a huff as he picked up his wine glass. He took a small drink, then a larger one, before he looked to Astarion, brow creasing. “Be honest with me, Astarion. Has he gotten worse?”

Astarion let out a long breath, staring down at his empty wine glass. “His circulation’s poor,” he said. “I haven’t drunk from him in over a year because of it; it makes me nervous. And he…doesn’t strain himself. He asked me to move the table for you, for instance.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean much.”

“Not on its own, but he always asks me to move it or to move a different piece of furniture. He avoids anything strenuous outside of when his…fey weirdness gets the better of him. And of course, whenever he asks me to do something for him, I do it, and I do it gladly, but…” Astarion sank back in his seat, thumbnail going between his teeth. “You saw him three years ago. Yes, he had the tadpole, but he was doing all manner of…fighting and climbing and running, and he was enjoying it. Now…gods, whenever he does come to after doing something like climbing gutters and diving in a water clock pool, he looks terrified. And I don’t know if he genuinely can’t do strenuous things anymore, or if he’s simply too scared to. Whichever it is, he’s suffering. And I hate seeing it.” Astarion’s hand dropped from his mouth, and his free one absently began rubbing at his fingers.

Gale glanced down at the motion. “Still no ring, I see.”

Astarion barked out a laugh. “As if you wouldn’t be the first to know.” He shook his head. “No, he’s scared of that, too.”

“Commitment? That doesn’t seem like him.”

“No, no, he’s committed. Painfully committed.” Astarion gave a wry smile. “You know what he said when I brought it up? ‘You’re just committing to being a widower.’ I told him that’s what everyone signs up for, but…he won’t hear it.” He looked down at his hand for a moment. “Sometimes it feels like he’s more trapped than I am.” He let out a long breath as he lifted his head, staring straight ahead for a long moment. The odd look from earlier came back, and his brows drew together. “This Wish…it cures anything, doesn’t it?”

Gale interlaced his fingers; his look said he knew where Astarion was going with this. “He’s going to say no.”

“That’s why I’m not going to tell him.” Astarion looked over at him. “And neither are you.”

Gale shut his eyes and made a face. Clearly he was weighing both options. “He has a right to—"

“He really does not.” Astarion leaned forward, elbow on the table and a hard look on his face. “Gale. Darling. I’m going to be very honest with you: it’s not very often I want to do the right thing. But now?” He tapped the table. “This is the right thing to do. Even logically speaking—I have a looser timeframe than he does; we can find a different solution for me.” He shrugged. “And if he’s pissed with me, then he’ll have longer than a decade to be pissed about it. Everyone wins.”

Before Gale could begin an argument, the door opened.

“I’m ba—oh, you’re both still here,” Falerin said, stopping mid-call. Astarion looked to him, then back to Gale.

“Have I really been chattering on about Zel for that long?” he lied, easy as breathing. “My apologies, Gale.”

“Oh…ah, no, I love hearing about her.” Gale wasn’t half the liar Astarion was, but his discomfort could be passed off as feigned interest, at least. And, from the look of it, Fal was none-the-wiser.

“Well, then, both of you come on. Lettie’s tarts are incredible, and this one’s even fresh from the oven.” Falerin glanced over to Gale as they stood up. “You’re staying the night, aren’t you? I found this great book on how the Weave manifests outside of magic…”

“The Weave Everpresent, by Quintus Maritus?”

“That’s the one.”

“Ah, one of my favorites. If you’re bribing me with a late night conversation on it, then consider me your guest for the evening.” Gale’s eyes flicked over to Astarion, face looming over the half-drow’s shoulder. The vampire mimed locking his lips, and Gale gave an imperceptible nod in return. Astarion smiled, then gave a bored eyeroll.

“If you two are going to talk shop about magical theories all night, at least let me enjoy dessert before you start. The last thing I want is to fall asleep right into a hot berry medley.”

“You don’t even sleep, love.”

“Exactly. That’s how boring you two can be.”

They did refrain from talking until after dessert, at least, and it was very late when Falerin and Gale decided to finally call it a night. Fal carefully entered the room, trying to stay quiet as he undressed to not disturb Astarion as he meditated. However, as he sank into bed, the vampire immediately curled up to him, face going to the crook of his neck. Falerin smiled, looking up at the ceiling as the familiar chill of Astarion’s breath puffed against his skin.

“Are you awake, love?” he whispered.

“Mm, awake enough. Not moving, though.”

Falerin nodded, staying quiet as he looked up at nothing in particular. His arm wound around Astarion as he got comfortable, thumb grazing over his shoulder in soothing strokes.

“I tried to ask her about the Wish,” he said quietly. “My patron. She didn’t answer, but…I have a feeling on where I should go. I think I should follow it.”

Astarion’s head shifted, eye glinting in the dark as he looked up at Falerin. “Well, where you’re following, I’m following. I’m not about to have you waltz alone into the unknown based on a whim.”

“You don’t have…”

“Non-negotiable, darling.”

Falerin sighed, and he gave Astarion a squeeze. “Okay. Together, then.”

Astarion sighed, shutting his eyes again. “So, where are we going based on this feeling of yours?”

Falerin took a deep breath. “Into the Feywild. To my patron’s court.”

[Next Chapter]

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #post-game #astarion x tav #feywild #I tried researching the feywild but I found no good info so FUCK IT we ball with traditional fairy tricksy bullshit #Also def recommend reading Casual Banter first #Like you can probably get by without it #but it has all the in-game developments and Fal's 19 page backstory #Also watch me shaking like a leaf because there's future nsft stuff in this fic #And also because I'm making hard claims based on headcanons

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