Chapter Text
“So, I believe you promised me a night of hedonistic debauchery,” Gale says. It is more a question than a statement but the look in his eyes reveals that this is a man who is not going to go to sleep sober tonight, one way or the other.
“Oh my, could it be? Has my bad influence finally worn off on our good little wizard?” Astarion replies. He did mean it earlier when he brought the topic up in the first place. Were the circumstances different, he would have long thrown himself back into the city with all the vices it has to offer. This time though, being back unearths many memories that Astarion has worked hard to repress and doesn’t particularly feel like facing tonight. And with Cazador gone, it feels like the person he was then is gone as well.
“I can make bad choices all by myself, thank you very much,” Gale says, “but since you brought it up earlier, I figured it’s only polite to ask you if you want to join.” He almost smiles as he says it.
“Of course, you can, darling,” Astarion replies, “then I presume that you have a perfect itinerary for your big night out?” He is only half joking, the other half wouldn’t be surprised if Gale produced a handwritten plan for the evening, complete with maps and illustrations. He seems the type to research each tavern in a town before he goes out.
“Well, usually I absolutely would, but today I think I just need a drink and a friend to rant to,” Gale explains. Astarion cuts him off before he even realizes what he said.
“You think of me as a friend, I’m honoured,” Astarion says, “You could have asked Wyll or maybe Karlach, Jaheira even, but me, I’m most flattered indeed…”
“Alright, shut up. I figured you’d be the least likely to give me a lecture on healthy coping mechanisms and addressing your feelings and you probably know where to get something strong enough to forget about Mystra,” Gale interrupts him.
“Ah, so your ex talked to you again for the first time after telling you to kill yourself and now you want her back. It’s so pathetic, it’s almost boring,” Astarion says. Gale asking him to go on a night out is entertaining, it has potential, it being because of godsdamned Mystra is just too predictable.
“That’s not it. See this is exactly why I didn’t ask Wyll,” Gale says. He almost looks like he regrets having asked in the first place when Astarion says, “Alright, no more questions about your pathetic love life. If you really want to forget Mystra, I say we start at Sharess’ Caress”.
“Gods Astarion, that’s definitely not what I meant, I knew I shouldn’t have asked you.” Gale is about to turn away when Astarion speaks up again, “Not for that, tsk tsk Gale, always with your mind in the gutter.”
“What else am I supposed to think when you suggest we go to a brothel?” Gale says. The nervous look in his eyes almost makes Astarion laugh.
“No, my friend, the barkeep Hoots Hooligan makes a fantastic moonshine. Whether you want a night to remember or one to forget, that’s a good place to start,” Astarion explains, and Gale’s expression relaxes a little. Just to tease him, Astarion adds, “and you can watch the fabulous Queen Thol dance while you drink it.”
“Maybe this was a bad idea,” Gale mumbles as he turns away, but Astarion catches his arm before he can leave.
“Wait, I was only joking. We can stop by Fraygo’s Flophouse first if you want. The energy is a lot more depressing if that’s what you’re after. We can get a warm ale and listen to the tenants’ depressing life stories. Always made it easy to drag someone to their doom if their lives are already so miserable,” he says. Astarion has been to Fraygo’s often, but never for long. It was easy to spot a patron who would easily be coerced into a dark corner by a beautiful face and a gentle touch. At times it almost felt like he was doing them a favour, cutting their pathetic lives short.
“Let’s go to Sharess’ Caress. But if you can’t behave yourself, I’m going home right away, just so we’re clear,” Gale finally says. He already looks exasperated, and the night has only just begun.
“Oh, I promise I’ll be good,” Astarion replies with a mischievous glint in his eye.
Everything about Sharess’ Caress is meant to draw you in. Especially on a cold night like this, the warm light that flickers onto the street through the red curtains look like a warming heath, a beacon in the dark. It is a stark contrast to the other establishments at Wyrm’s Crossing. At night, the street vendors move their stock inside and the stalls stand empty and abandoned by the side of the road. The other shops have closed their doors and snuffed their lights by this time of night. For centuries Astarion would pass them but when they arrived in Baldur’s Gate this time, it was the first time he saw life within those buildings.
Fraygo’s Flophouse right across the street is like an antithesis to Sharess’ Caress. The doors are shut, and there are no lights to illuminate the entrance. Only dim candlelight shines through the frosted windows, where patrons are huddled around the tables at any hour of the day. While the door of Sharess’ Caress nearly never closes from the steady stream of patrons walking in and out, the door to Fraygo’s Flophouse remains shut throughout the night, bar for the occasional tenant finding their way back after a night out.
When Gale and Astarion arrive, the door is opened right in front of them by a cheerful dragonborn who is just on her way out but barely seems able to put one foot in front of the other anymore.
“This bodes well,” Gale mumbles as he steps forward to hold the door open for her. The dragonborn doesn’t even seem to notice their presence as she stumbles out on the street. As soon as she’s left, Astarion steps through the door in a swift movement and extends his hand to Gale.
“Good evening gentlemen,” greets them a voice from behind the front desk. Astarion recognizes her as the madam of the house who welcomed them when they passed through earlier, “how can we make your wildest dreams come true this evening?”
“We’re just here for a drink, but thank you,” Gale replies quickly. She doesn’t seem convinced and the nervous look on Gale’s face certainly doesn’t help.
“Well, the twins are just through the curtains on the right and Irenya is also free at the moment, should you crave something a bit more exciting than a drink later on,” the woman says with a friendly smile as though she was discussing the specials on today’s menu.
“Thank you kindly, mamzell,” Astarion replies and nods his head towards her. Swiftly, he takes Gale’s hand and leads him towards the bar. It is much more crowded now than it was during the day. Astarion pushes past the patrons who are crowding the bar and those who are passed out on their stools.
“Could we get two mugs of you famous Hooch,” Astarion calls over to the bartender, whose eyes immediately light up at the request.
Gale is still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room when Astarion emerges from the crowd with two ice cold tankards of questionable brew in his hands.
“Let’s find a table then, shall we darling?” Astarion says and leads the way up the stairs. They quickly find that all seats are already taken. It seems that more people have indeed come here tonight for an innocent drink and nothing more. Or perhaps some of them are still mustering up the courage to ask for what they really came here for.
In the end they find a quiet corner out on the balcony. It’s almost too cold to sit outside but at least it means that the two of them can escape the noise for a little bit. Back when he would hunt for Cazador, Astarion would have pulled up a chair and joined a group upstairs. It was easy to spot who had come there for a night of love but lacked the courage to go through with it. They were easy targets. He only had to look into their eyes as if he really understood them when they talked about their lives, and oh did they lay their lives bare to him easy. Then a touch of a hand and a whispered promise and they would have followed him anywhere. Tonight is not like that though.
“Are you sure this is safe to drink?” Gale asks, eyeing his drink suspiciously, “Hoots’ Hooch doesn’t sound particularly promising”.
“Well I wouldn’t know, I’ve never actually had it. But it’s the house special, so if you already refuse to indulge in any of the other specials this house has to offer, I think we can’t also refuse this,” Astarion explains.
“You’ve never tried it?” Gale asks.
“It all kind of tastes like vinegar to me anyway. You understand I usually came here to quench a different kind of thirst,” Astarion explains.
“Oh please, spare me the gory details” Gale replies.
“I’m talking about blood of course, I was hunting the desperate to drink from their necks,” Astarion elaborates with a flourish.
“I said spare me the details!” Gale says with a faux shocked expression, “alright then, let’s just get this over with,” he finally says and starts downing the muddy green brew. Astarion is just about to make a quippy remark when Gale's body begins to distort before his very eyes. Within moments the wizard is gone and, in his place, bleats a clearly distressed sheep. The image is too ridiculous not to laugh. The rest of the liquid spills out of the tankard at the sheep’s hoofs. The sheep bleats anxiously at Astarion, no doubt the ramblings of a very stressed out Gale that unfortunately come out as completely incomprehensible sounds. Astarion almost thinks that he recognizes Gale in the sheep’s kind eyes and just as he notices it, the sheep’s features morph back into human ones and a distraught Gale stumbles back up to his feet.
“Was that some kind of joke? Because it’s not funny!” Gale exclaims, his eyes wild and his stance defensive, as though he worries that he may turn back into a sheep any second.
“You really should figure out a spell to protect you from this kind of thing,” Astarion says, and he can almost feel Gale’s pained glare on him.
“I knew this was a stupid idea. Let’s just go back to camp and forget about this whole ordeal,” Gale says and takes a few slow breaths to calm himself down.
“Oh, don’t be like that Gale. I’ll play nice, I promise. I didn’t know this was going to happen, cross my heart and hope to die,” Astarion says. It’s mostly the truth. He has watched plenty of patrons order the drink on Hoots’ recommendation and almost every time they drank it they became afflicted with a different condition. He never actually saw anybody order the drink a second time. “I’ll just get you a Frostkiss Ale for the next round, what do you think?”
“Fine, but no more funny business,” Gale replies sternly. He considers the idea for a second and then he adds, “and maybe we can sit inside, my hands are freezing.”
And so, Gale takes a seat on the plush velvet sofa facing a stage on which a tiefling is dancing with a number of colourful chiffon scarves that cover most of her but leave enough room to fantasize about how one swift movement may reveal her naked body underneath.
When Astarion returns, this time with a single tankard of ale, Gale’s eyes are transfixed on the dancer. He doesn’t seem particularly aroused by her performance, more fascinated, like he is studying her movements.
“Enjoying the show?” Astarion asks as he sits down next to him.
“At first, I thought that the fabric is fixed to her body with some sort of spell, but I can’t feel any magic. It’s just the movement of her body that does it, no illusion,” Gale explains all without lifting his eyes from the dancer, “the allure is that one wrong move may cause her to drop them, but she certainly knows her skill so even if we sat here an eternity, we’d never see anything she wouldn’t want us to see.”
Astarion observes the dancer as well. Her fingers move quickly, catching the fabric with one hand as soon as it slips out from the tips of the other. At times it appears as though she isn’t touching the fabric at all. They sit and watch her dance for some time when a voice pulls them out of their trance.
“Isn’t she wonderful?” a smooth voice asks. A beautiful drow woman has taken a seat right next to Gale. Before either of them can reply she has moved her hand on his knee and leans over to speak more quietly, “I’m afraid Queen Thol has a strict ‘no touching’ policy, but perhaps you see someone else who is to your liking.”
“Thank you, but my friend and I are only here for the drinks,” Gale replies. His voice sounds artificial, the same polite tone he uses when he has to cool the tempers of the city watch.
“In that case, you should definitely try the Mermaid Whiskey, it’s my personal favourite,” the woman says in a tone that Astarion knows all too well. It’s a tone full of promise and suggestion. A tone that suggests that she knows that they’ll be back. He has used it himself many times. Words to give them the feeling that they could make their own choice, but a voice that ensured that they would always come back for him.
“Thank you kindly, but we really are just here for the drink so I wouldn’t want to take up any more of your precious time,” Astarion says, mirroring her sweet smile.
“Well, I shall be right over there if you boys change your mind,” the woman says. Then she looks at them before she adds, “or perhaps you’d be more interested in my brother.” With a swift movement, she gets up and walks back over to where a drow man, presumably her brother, is standing. Even from over there she doesn’t take her eyes off them.
“Maybe it’s time to go,” Astarion offers but he can see that Gale is starting to get more comfortable so he adds, “unless you want to take the drow up on their offer, although I’ll be honest, I have about 50 gold coins on me which I’m pretty sure will cool off their affections pretty quickly.”
“Gods no, that would definitely make things worse, but I could go for another one of these ales if you don’t mind,” Gale says.
“Now that’s the spirit,” Astarion replies, “but this time you can go get your own drink,” he adds and tosses him a few of the aforementioned gold coins that he nicked from Gale’s bag before they left.
Gale picks up the coins and makes his way back to the bar. The velvet curtains have barely closed behind him when Astarion begins to scope out the room. In the past, this would have been the first thing he did. Watch out for any threats, but more importantly, find the easiest targets. In this room it was certainly the tipsy dwarf who has been peering over to him from the back of the room this whole time. He is by himself, sitting slightly too far slouched down on his seat. He certainly thinks that he is subtle in the way his eyes keep gazing over to Astarion and then always drop down to his lap when they meet his.
It is almost instinct. In a few short steps Astarion has walked over to the dwarf. It only takes a meaningful look and a few whispered words to get the man to follow him outside when Astarion saunters through the door, back onto the balcony. Back in the cold crisp air and the faint moonlight Astarion places a gentle hand on the man’s cheek and as he leans gingerly into his palm it is almost too easy for Astarion to bring his lips down to the man’s exposed neck. For one brief moment the dwarf relishes in the tender touch and all the promises that are made within it, but just as it came, the gentleness is broken by sharp teeth piercing through warm skin.
Astarion holds the man in a firm embrace until he is almost completely drained. Then, he feels the dwarf’s legs give out and his muscles no longer struggle against his grasp. Astarion can see the terror in his eyes for just a moment before the man's consciousness fades and his eyes fall shut. Tomorrow, someone will find him here, but tonight, in the darkness, nobody will question a man lying passed out outside a brothel. And tomorrow, when he gathers his strength to stumble back home, he will not remember if the stranger who lured him out here was ever real or only a figment of his intoxicated imagination.
Flush with the fresh blood on this tongue and the thrill of the hunt, Astarion walks back inside. Gale is already back, this time with a whole bottle of what looks to be red wine and a glass that looks dainty compared to the tankard that is still standing on the table next to it.
“Thank gods you’re back! I thought you left me,” Gale exclaims as Astarion walks back up to him.
“Oh my dear, I’d never leave you behind,” Astarion all but purrs, “I just nipped out to have a little drink myself.”
“You bit someone?” Gale asks in a volume that Astarion is sure that everyone in the room must have heard it.
“Psst, quiet down. I may have indulged in my own personal vice,” Astarion whispers close to Gale’s face. Before Gale has the chance to respond, Astarion gets up in a sudden rush of vigour. “I’m done with this place now, let’s go somewhere else,” he exclaims much more cheerfully and before Gale can protest Astarion drags him up by his hand.
Back on Wyrm’s Crossing Astarion notices that Gale has grabbed the bottle of wine before he was dragged outside and continues to drink straight out of the bottle as they walk.
“How’s our night of debauchery holding up to your standards so far?” Astarion asks as they stroll past the closed stores and empty stalls back over the bridge into the lower city.
“We’re off to a good start. I dare say that’s the most fun I’ve ever had in a brothel,” Gale replies and takes another swig from the bottle.
“Either you’ve never been to a brothel before or you’ve been doing it wrong,” Astarion replies. He looks over to his friend before he adds, “although watching you turn into a sheep might also make it on the list of my best brothel experiences.”
“Bahhh,” Gale bleats at him in response and the two of them can’t help but laugh. They bleat and laugh and stumble and drink, barely noticing the steel watch who quietly scan them as they pass the Wyrm’s Rock checkpoint.
Then, suddenly, Gale stops in his tracks and turns to Astarion.
“What is it?” Astarion asks, suddenly worried about his friend.
“We’re at the temple,” Gale explains and nods towards the building right in front of them.
Astarion doesn’t recall having been here before. He’s never been very religious himself. Being chained up in a psychopath’s basement for two hundred years certainly doesn’t make you believe in any type of higher power, at least not one that would be deserving of worship.
“This is where I spoke to Mystra earlier, they have a shrine for her here,” Gale explains with a glint in his eye that Astarion can’t quiet place.
“I don’t think she’s worth any prayers at her altar,” Astarion says and to his surprise Gale lets out a loud laugh at those words.
“Praying is not what I had in mind,” he says, already taking the steps up to the entrance. He pushes against the door, but it does not budge, “those cowards locked it for the night,” Gale states and looks over to Astarion expectantly.
“It’s your big night out, but don’t make me regret this,” Astarion says while he’s already picking the lock. A few practised flicks of the wrist and the door clicks open. It’s a good thing that Astarion does not fear the wrath of the gods because this certainly feels like something that would evoke it.
As soon as the door swings open Gale steps through it and right up to Mystra’s shrine.
“She thinks she can just boss me around and I’ll just ask how high.” Gale slurs his words ever so slightly as he speaks, “but I don’t want to do it anymore. I don’t want to be quiet and nice all of the time so she doesn’t get upset at me. I’m godsdamn sick of waking up every day wondering what big bag of bullshit Mystra has come up with to make me miserable this time!”
Astarion flinches as the bottle of wine shatters against the statue of Mystra.
“If you want to ignore me, fine! But I won’t blow myself up just because you decided that I should and I’m not going to fetch that crown for you just so you can be more powerful!” Gale almost yells the words at the statue which remains unmoving, cold and empty. Astarion has never seen him so upset.
“I can take the crown for myself,” Gale says, this time directed towards Astarion, “and then Mystra can’t touch me anymore. Then she can’t tell me what to do anymore.” Whatever anger there was only moments ago has now given way for something more desperate.
“I’m just so tired of constantly having to do the right thing to appease her,” Gale mutters and drops down on the floor. The way he’s sitting there, his back against Mystra’s altar, his knees pulled up to his chest, he looks unbelievably small.
Astarion finally steps forward from the doorway from which he has been observing the scene. The only thing he can think to do is sit down next to his friend and offer the closest thing to a kind word that he can muster up. Astarion has many bold words, he has seductive words, and he has angry words. He has the right words that someone wants to hear and those that he can’t stop from spilling out. One thing he always struggled with were kind words, sympathetic words, and the words that someone needed to hear whether they liked it or not. Even so, this is the time to try.
“You don’t need her,” is all he can finally bring out.
“She is magic and I am a wizard. I am nothing without her and she knows it,” Gale replies. He sounds resigned like this is a truth he has accepted a long time ago.
“Bullshit,” Astarion says, “without her you are still smart and without her you are still kind. Maybe she made magic or whatever, but you’re so much more than that.” He has said the words before he can really think about their meaning. He only realizes what he said when he feels Gale look right at him.
Astarion doesn’t dare look up to meet his eyes for fear of what might happen then so instead he does what he knows best and just keeps talking, “even when the whole group was freaking out over me being a vampire you never held it against me. You always stay calm, no matter how terrible things get, and you always know what to do next even when it seems pointless to even try. And even though I don’t really eat food it sounds like everyone is really enjoying your cooking every night so if Mystra takes away your magic maybe you can become a chef or…” and then he is cut off by Gale’s soft lips tentatively pressing against his own. Astarion can taste the wine on his breath and breathes in his intoxicating scent of honeysuckle and ash. He can feel the overwhelming rhythm of Gale’s heartbeat and hear his blood rush through his veins, and it is almost too much for him to bear. And just as the moment has come, it has already passed and then nothing is left but a faint warmth on Astarion’s lips.
“Sorry,” Gale whispers, then he adds in a louder voice, “now let’s see if there is anywhere in this damned part of town that will sell me a drink because it seems like I’m all out.”