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The ballroom was fucking huge.
Extravagant, of course it was, but Gale couldn’t get over the sheer size of it. The floor itself was enough to steal his breath away as he stepped through the double doors at the top of a split staircase. It was a masterpiece in and of itself, geometric shapes crafted from marble, blues and greens and reds all blending in a way that made Gale struggle to look at anything else. However, when he was finally able to lift his eyes, the rest of the room was just as breathtaking.
Gilded columns with tapestries woven of gold lined the walls, frescoes adorning the ceiling, their surfaces reflecting the many candelabras that hung from them. Crystal chandeliers lighting up the space warmly. Intricate arches and flowing red drapes and luxuries that Gale wasn’t ever used to seeing in his little tower back in Waterdeep.
Seeing it all in front of him now—
Well, it made it even harder for Gale to forget what he was here to do.
Attending Duke Ravenguard’s annual ball wasn’t something Gale wanted to do, nor had he thought he’d ever find himself with such an invitation. He should’ve known that, when he agreed to join Mystra and her little band of thieves, he’d also agreed to be part of her schemes. He should’ve known that he’d find himself in some rather peculiar situations, but stealing a priceless magical artifact from one of the richest noble families right from under their noses wasn’t something he considered a possibility. It wasn’t something he was all the way convinced he could pull off, but here he was.
Gale never did enjoy balls or pageants or parties. It was never really his ideal evening, and he was rather out of practice with such formalities. One would think that slipping back into it would’ve been easy, not so easily forgettable, but Gale was frustrated to find out that wasn’t the case. His nerves were easily noticeable in the tremor of his hands, the tightness of his jaw, and the way his chest heaved, searching for the next breath of fresh air.
He was convinced that if anybody were to look at him closely enough, they would be able to see his guilt just as clearly as the stubble on his chin. If anybody glanced his way for longer than a second or spoke to him past that initial greeting, then they would know exactly what he was here to do it.
At least he wasn’t going into this blind. While his perfect night would consist of reading by a fireplace in his favorite armchair, Gale had been to plenty of balls before. He’d met Mystra at one, and he didn’t know if that soured them even more in his mind or that comforted him in this moment in particular.
There were many powerful people one could meet during parties like this one. He would know better than anybody, and if he was able to pull off this heist, then there was no telling what opportunities could open up for him.
The one that immediately comes into his mind is that he would’ve finally gained Mystra’s trust. He’d be as good as her right hand, and wasn’t that what he wanted? To sit next to one of the wealthiest, most powerful, most beautiful women in the realm? Wasn’t that what he’d been working toward this entire time? It was just this one job, this one item, and Gale would have all he’d ever wanted. If Mystra was happy, then that could only lead to good things for Gale.
Once upon a time, he might’ve thought that, might’ve believed it wholeheartedly, but over the course of his relationship with her, Gale had learned that he would never mean as much to her as she meant to him. He didn’t mean anything to her seeing as he was in the midst of being tossed out.
He knew that he was being discarded. Slowly and painfully, Mystra was icing him out. She wouldn’t even tell him what he did wrong, but she’d given him this mission as a last chance to get back on her good graces and redeem himself. Should he fail, then it would all be over for him. Everything he worked for would’ve been for nothing.
Gale wanted to be by her side so badly that it was painful, but he was once happy to hurt. Now, the ache was excruciating, and Gale was no longer smiling through his pain, no longer bearing the brunt of it in the name of love and duty and devotion.
He was just suffering now, but he kept going because, at this point, what else was he supposed to do?
He had to do this. There wasn’t anything else out there for him. So, with a deep breath and hardened resolve, Gale marched down the stairs like he was meant to be there, like he was simply here to enjoy the celebrations along with everybody else, like he wasn’t about to rob this family blind.
There were already many people socializing on the ballroom floor, their outfits more lavish than anything Gale had ever owned in his entire life. Lace and silks and ceremonial armor. He was lucky enough that Mystra let him borrow his own outfit or else he would be horribly underdressed. However, the costly purple robes that he had been lent made him blend right in. The circlet that had been placed carefully on his head dazzled under the light of the candles, and he struggled not to fidget with the earring in his left ear.
He passed a few groups of people, smiling and waving as he passed, but he didn’t stop to talk to anybody. He wasn’t required to speak to anybody in particular, but he knew that it would look more suspicious if he kept to himself, huddled alone in the corner of the room for the duration of the ball.
No, Gale would find somebody to share a few dances with before sneaking away later in the night after the alcohol being served worked its way into the heart of the ball. He’d socialize for a few hours, get to know the people that came to these types of parties if only just to understand how they operate. The more Gale knew, the easier it would be to steal from them in the future if he ever found himself in a situation such as this one.
For the time being, though, he waited. He watched. Someone served him a glass of sparkling liquid, and he sipped at it politely as watchful eyes scanned the grandest ballroom he’d ever had the fortune to find himself in.
It wasn’t too long before he was approached by an easily recognizable face. “I couldn’t help but notice you standing by yourself.”
Wyll Ravenguard, the Duke’s son, was a hero, a legend that had spread across the realm to the point that even Gale had heard about his endeavors. He’d seen the bloodiest battles—had lost his eye in one of them—and yet, he still smiled at Gale so brightly, his grin wide enough that Gale was helpless to do anything but smile back. He was probably making rounds, greeting every guest, a gracious host in place of his father.
Regardless, this was still one of the people that Gale was tasked with stealing from, and that fact made his stomach twist into knots.
“Lord Wyll,” Gale greeted, trying to keep his heart steady in his chest, to keep the mask of innocence in place just long enough to get through this interaction. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Wyll’s smile widened as he extended his hand toward Gale. “The pleasure is all mine, Gale of Waterdeep,” he replied warmly, and Gale had to bite the inside of his cheek. He knew that Mystra had pulled a few strings to get him into this ball, but he had no idea that the Duke’s son would know him by name. Not that it would matter too much after tonight.
Gale shook Wyll’s hand, trying to keep his composure. “The honor is truly mine,” he replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. “I must admit, I’ve heard much about your valor and bravery in the Sword Coast. You’re a true hero, and it’s an honor to finally make your acquaintance.”
A hint of red dusted Wyll’s cheeks as he chuckled, his head bowing modestly. “You are too kind. I also have to admit that I’ve heard much about your magical talents and prowess. You’ve made a name for yourself in the city, and it’s a pleasure to have you grace our halls tonight.” Gale nodded once, hoping that Wyll would excuse himself, but the Duke’s son did no such thing.
Instead, his smile fell a bit. “I do, however, wonder why you are here. Might I inquire about your lineage? Usually, only other nobles are invited to these events.”
Gale’s heart raced. He knew he had to maintain his façade, and it wasn’t luck that made him rehearse this lie over and over in preparation for questions like this. He and Mystra didn’t go over this time and time again just for him to fumble when it mattered most. The lie fell from his lips effortlessly. “I am a descendant from the Adabrents,” he replied smoothly. “Although, I don’t blame you for questioning it. I’m a far-off branch from a rather large tree, but my family sends their regards to the esteemed Ravenguard family.”
Wyll nodded, seemingly pleased with this response, and Gale refrained from sighing out his relief. “Ah, House Adarbrent. A name of great renown indeed,” he remarked before his expression shifted slightly. “Forgive me for prying, but you seem somewhat, er, distracted. Is everything alright?”
Gale’s stomach clenched at the question. He thought he had done such a good job of steeling himself, at hiding the nerves, but it seemed that Wyll Ravenguard had seen right through him. Luckily, Gale considered himself good at thinking on his feet.
He forced out a nervous chuckle, lining his voice with the nerves that he had tried so hard to hide, displaying them in the hopes that it would make his next lie sound more genuine. “It’s nothing, Lord Wyll. Just caught up in the splendor of this magnificent ballroom, I suppose,” he replied, hoping his excuse would suffice.
Wyll’s expression softened with understanding. “Ah, I understand completely. It can be quite overwhelming at times,” he said sympathetically, and Gale tried not to wither in the face of this man’s kindness and understanding. “Fear not, though, Gale. My home is your home, and I’d like for you to enjoy it tonight. If there’s anything I or my family can do to make your evening more enjoyable, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
And it was impossible for a better opportunity to fall into Gale’s lap. “There is something, my Lord, if it wouldn’t be too much of a burden.”
“Anything,” he replied instantly, “and please, call me Wyll. Lord Ravenguard is my father.”
“I’m not used to such grandeur, you see. I fear I might become overwhelmed again amidst such magnificence. I might inquire if there’s a room I could go to should the festivities get the better of me. Somewhere quiet, preferably, so that I can recollect myself.”
Wyll considered him for a moment, his eyes darting around his face before answering Gale’s request. “The library would be open to you should you need it. Ask any one of the servants, and they should be able to lead you right there.”
“You have my many thanks, Wyll,” Gale said with a bow of his head. “Your generosity is greatly appreciated.”
Wyll smiled warmly once more. “The pleasure is mine, Lord Adarbrent. I do so hope we’ll have the opportunity to speak again later this evening. Until then, please enjoy yourself,” he said before excusing himself to greet other guests.
As Wyll walked away, Gale let out a silent breath of relief. That couldn’t have gone better, Gale thought even though his heart was still hammering against his ribs with such an intensity that he was sure everyone in the ballroom could hear it. He had managed to navigate the encounter without arousing suspicion, but the weight of his mission still bore down on him heavily. At least he had managed to get an out that wouldn’t involve much sneaking, and if anybody were to question where he was, he’d be able to tell them the same thing he told Wyll with servants to back him up as a witness. He’d been led to the library where he remained until he left.
He wouldn’t go just yet, though. Despite everything, he did want to be seen here. He needed to find a dance partner soon if he hoped to continue this charade for a little longer. After that, he would sneak away to the library and begin his search for the magic artifact Mystra was so focused on getting her hands on.
Gale’s gaze swept across the bustling ballroom, searching for a potential dance partner, someone who wouldn’t draw too much attention but would let him sweep them off their feet for an hour or two. Amidst the sea of opulent attire and elegant movements, his eyes landed on a figure that stood out amongst the rest of them.
There, standing near the edge of the dance floor, was a man who was genuinely perfect, tragically beautiful, and effortlessly alluring. Clad in impeccably tailored black and red garments that accentuated his lithe frame, he moved with fluid grace that immediately captivated Gale’s attention. His eyes, a mesmerizing shade of burgundy under the chandeliers, seemed to glint with something unknown as they met Gale’s gaze.
As if sensing Gale’s scrutiny, the man turned towards him, a charming smile playing on his lips. If Gale didn’t know any better, he’d almost describe it as wicked. With a graceful stride, he approached Gale, his every move dripping with confidence. It shouldn’t have, but the way he walked stole Gale’s breath away. For moment, as small as it might be, Gale forgot what he was there for. Forgot that he was looking for something. Forgot his end goal completely.
He might’ve even forgotten about Mystra for the briefest of moments.
He shook himself out of it rather quickly, though.
“Good evening,” the man greeted once he was standing directly in front of him, his voice velvety and smooth and so inviting. Gale’s mouth went dry. “I couldn’t help but notice you looking at me from across the room. I thought it might be wise to introduce myself before asking you if you’d entertain this dance with me. I’m Astarion.”
Gale’s heart skipped a beat at the man’s approach, his pulse quickening at the sight of undeniable beauty and charisma. This man—Astarion—must’ve known how gorgeous he was, must’ve known that anybody in their right mind would think it impossible to deny him whatever he asked for, but this was Gale’s plan all along. It was a stroke of luck that he didn’t have to approach anyone, that this work of art had practically fallen into his lap.
Astarion was looking at him with half-lidded eyes, and it occurred to Gale that he was expected to answer. “I would be my honor, Astarion,” he said, his voice remarkably steady as he offered a small, tentative smile.
With a wave of his hand, he led Astarion onto the dance floor, the soft strains of music enveloping them as they began to move in time together.
Gale was concerned that he wouldn’t remember the steps, but dancing with Astarion, he found, was as simple as breathing. He swept him around the ballroom floor like he was born to do it, and Astarion followed him as gracefully as anything Gale had ever seen. Neither a swan nor a climbing, flowered vine could compare to the way Astarion moved.
Gale’s hand was placed on Astarion’s waist, and Astarion’s hand was on his shoulder. Their fingers linked on the other side, and Gale couldn’t help the shiver that tickled the back of his neck.
Astarion’s touch was electric, his eyes magnetic. Gale couldn’t take his gaze off of him even if he wanted to.
He didn’t want to.
“You never told me your name,” Astarion said softly as Gale spun him, that wicked smirk turning his lips.
Gale swallowed, blinked, hummed. “That’s horrible etiquette of me, isn’t it?”
Astarion’s eyes glittered with something as they narrowed, and Gale still couldn’t put a name to it. “So? What is it, then?”
Gale let his own grin slide onto his face. “I quite like this, though, don’t you? Dancing with a mysterious stranger at one of the most extravagant balls of the season?”
Astarion laughed, and it sounded like crystals clinking together. Rolling his eyes, he turned his gaze back on Gale, that half-lidded stare stealing his breath once more. “It is quite story-like, I suppose,” he admitted, “but even if I did know your name, you would still be a mysterious stranger.”
“Maybe,” Gale said. “I quite like a secret, though. You’ll have to forgive me.”
There was a gleam in Astarion’s eye, a flicker of intrigue, and while Gale wasn’t necessarily aiming to appeal to this man’s fascination, he wasn’t opposed to obtaining it. Astarion was focused on him now. Earlier, he might’ve been entertaining the idea, but now Gale could see him hooked, could see him leaning closer, his eyes narrowed in conspiracy.
“What if we trade?” Astarion murmured, his voice lowering into something that sent Gale’s stomach flipping. “A secret of mine for a secret of yours.”
“The secret being my name?”
“Mm,” Astarion hummed, nodding once as Gale spun him in time with the music.
“Then, by all means, Astarion. Tell me a secret.”
Astarion’s eyes drifted away from him then, his hands tightening on his shoulders. He seemed to be glancing around the room, eyes snagging on other couples as they spun by them. Gale didn’t notice them, though, because Gale’s attention was completely stolen by the man in his arms, the body swaying with him.
He should be focused on the mission he was here to do, but that could wait just a little while longer. Mystra had been trying to steal this artifact for years at this point. She could wait a few extra minutes. Gale was most likely never going to see this man again, and he wanted to take at least a few moments to drink him in, to memorize him.
It’s silly. Foolish of him, even.
If Mystra were here she would laugh at him. She’d be furious at first, but then she would look at him with that pitiful expression, disdain obvious. Her laugh would be cold, mocking, condescending. Gale could practically hear it in his head, but it wasn’t enough to pull his gaze or his attention away from Astarion who was settling his eyes back on Gale, red irises sparkling.
Astarion’s low voice completely muted any of Mystra’s derisive laughter from his head.
“Would you believe me if I told you that you were the most delightful surprise of my night?”
Gale didn’t have any expectations for what Astarion’s secret might’ve been, but he certainly wasn’t expecting any sort of compliment. It caught him off-guard, unawares. It hit him in the chest with as much force as any spell Mystra could’ve sent his way, knocking the breath right out of his lungs, locking it in his throat.
“Is that the secret you’re going with?” Gale asked once he’d found his voice, cringing at the slight breathlessness Astarion had reduced him to.
“You mustn’t tell anybody,” Astarion said with a grin, leaning impossibly closer. “These people have been eating out of the palm of my hand all night. They have expectations of me, and I let them believe what they want. So, you can’t go around destroying the illusion. That would be terrible for me.”
Gale blinked, and this time, he was able to pull his gaze away from Astarion long enough to glance around the room.
He could see it then, the eyes that latched onto them, the furtive glances that men and women alike were throwing their way. Gale had wanted to stay as unnoticeable as possible, but Astarion had taken that and thrown it out the window. Gale had let him do it without a word of complaint. He realized, startlingly, that he would let Astarion do it again, would let him do anything he wanted at this moment.
But as Gale’s eyes met with some random noble with a harsh stare, there was a sudden surge of heat in the base of his throat. So many eyes on them, on Astarion—All looking at him like they have some kind of right to him, like they’ve already staked some sort of claim on him. They were looking at Gale like he was playing with their new, shiny toy without permission, and he could feel red-hot irritation brewing in his gut.
“Don’t look at them. Look at me,” Astarion said, and Gale was helpless to comply. “I meant what I said. You’re very lovely, truly. That’s why I’m dancing with you. Not them. So, pay attention to me, and consider indulging me, darling. Tell me your name.”
Gale swallowed, and Astarion tilted his head. They were nearly nose to nose now, their feet barely moving as they swayed in place. Dancing was an afterthought in this space they’d created between them. Gale wasn’t quite sure when he had placed both hands on Astarion’s hip, subconsciously pulling him closer until their faces were mere inches apart. Pulled together like there was something attached to their navel, drawing them to each other.
“My name is Gale,” he breathed. Astarion’s eyelashes fluttered as Gale’s words fanned over his face.
“Gale,” he repeated, testing it, tasting it. “O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being.”
A rush of lightheadedness nearly knocked Gale off of his feet. “You enjoy poetry?”
Astarion looked pleased when he grinned, pulling away just slightly to look into Gale’s eyes properly. “Who doesn’t?”
Gale laughed at this, and he surprised himself with how genuine it felt and sounded. He didn’t remember the last time he’d felt his eyes crinkle and his cheeks heat up. For the entirety of the time he’s been working with Mystra, it’s been one mask after another, a part in a stage play where he can never shirk the costume.
But standing in front of Astarion at this moment, Gale never felt more like himself.
“A lot of people don’t appreciate it,” Gale admitted under his breath, tightening his grip on Astarion’s waist and pulling him closer on purpose this time.
“I take it you do, though?” Astarion asked cheekily, his voice dropping again, digging up something dark and intense from Gale’s core. He could feel it—whatever this feeling was—using his ribcage like a ladder, clawing its way up his sternum and into his throat.
“I do, yes,” Gale replied, his own voice deeper than he’d been expecting.
“My, don’t we have much in common,” Astarion murmured, and Gale watched as his eyes darted down to look at his mouth before turning back up to him, gaze half-lidded.
“Tell me another secret,” Gale whispered, and the entire ballroom and all its inhabitants faded away around him. They disappeared completely along with the music and the chatter. Right now, it was just Gale and Astarion, embracing, hardly swaying. Their faces were so close to each other, and Gale could taste his own want.
Gods, he wanted. He wanted so badly. He’d never wanted anything like this since joining Mystra.
It was such a visceral thing, such a simple thing, and Gale Dekarios tended to stumble in the face of simple, beautiful things. He was always looking for a solution, an answer. Something so intense as the want he felt at this moment must have a complex explanation, must have pages of pages of encrypted meaning. He could spend years searching for such a resolution to such an extreme desire, and never find it. He could see himself getting obsessed with finding an answer, spending the rest of his life searching every tome and grimoire he could get his hands on to figure out how such an emotion, such a want, could even exist in the first place.
But the answer was so simple.
Gale didn’t need a lifetime to figure it out. He just needed Astarion’s lips on his, his body pressed against his, his voice in Gale’s ears, his eyes locked with Gale’s.
If he didn’t get that, Gale would go mad. He would die. He was sure of it.
“Will you tell me a secret in return?” Astarion asked, drawing Gale back to the ballroom, back to the music, back to the room full of people who were keeping a close eye on them, back to the mission that Gale still had to refocus on.
“I will,” Gale promised.
Astarion worried a lip between his teeth as if debating something in his head. The corner of his mouth tilted up as he leaned in and whispered in Gale’s ear, the breath of his words on his neck making him shudder.
“I’m here to steal the Ring of Winter.”
There was a sudden, loud rushing in Gale’s ears.
This wasn’t possible, surely.
There was absolutely no way that Astarion was here to steal the same thing he was. There was no way that two lone thieves found each other across a ballroom, danced together, and leaned into each other like there was no other place they were planning to be tonight, nowhere else they’d rather be than where they currently were.
But they both had plans, it seemed.
And they still found time to get tangled up together and whisper saccharine words into each other’s ears.
Gale should feel a spike of panic, a stab of anxiety. He should’ve felt a little bit lost, knocked off his guard yet again by this alluring man.
However, all he could feel was this overwhelming want. This need to be close to the other man, this all-consuming desire that he wasn’t accustomed to in the slightest. All of the poetry in the world couldn’t have prepared him for the flipping of his stomach. No prose or sonnets could have described the clenching in his chest, the fire beneath his skin, the ache behind his eyes.
Astarion was looking at him now, narrowed eyes widening to take in whatever Gale’s reaction would be. He had to know that it was risky saying anything like this to him, that he’d just taken a leap of faith in the hopes that Gale wouldn’t alert the nearest sentry of the thing he’d just been told. They were on the knife’s edge of whatever atmosphere they had crafted, and Gale held the power to decide which way they would fall.
Or maybe that’s just what Astarion wanted him to think.
Gale was very aware that he was wrapped around this man’s finger, and it wasn’t so hard to believe that Astarion knew that just as well. Perhaps Astarion knew for certain that Gale wouldn’t be any risk to him because he had him under his thumb with just a couple of well-timed compliments and a few lingering touches.
Gale wanted to surprise him without putting him danger, just to prove that he was more than another noble eating out of the palm of Astarion’s hand.
“Is it my turn to tell a secret?” Gale asked instead of outwardly reacting to Astarion’s confession.
“Yes,” Astarion replied, eyes narrowing again. Tension had crept into his shoulders, and Gale fought the urge to press knuckles into Astarion’s back and knead out all the knots until he was a puddle of a man.
Gale let his lips quirk up, and leaned closer until he was the one whispering in Astarion’s ear, relishing in the small shiver he could feel run through the other man under his palms. He let the moment linger, let the suspense hang and shudder between them. Astarion held his breath, and Gale smiled.
“I’m here to do the same.”
Astarion’s eyes impossibly widened more, and he stiffened in Gale’s arms. This wasn’t the reaction that he had been expecting, that much was for certain. Gale didn’t know what kind of response or secret Astarion had been hoping to surprise out of him, but it wasn’t this.
Before Gale could even think about teasing him for his expression, Astarion schooled his features back into that aloof, mysterious countenance that he’d approached Gale with. It was like lightning, just how quickly Astarion composed himself. Gale could almost convince himself that the shock he’d seen on his face was nothing more than a figment of his imagination.
“I’m afraid there’s only one ring, Gale,” Astarion lilted, an eyebrow raising, a challenge if Gale’s ever seen one.
“So, it does seem.”
“Well, we can’t both steal it.”
Gale hummed, agreeing. “I suppose not.”
“Why do you want it, then?” Astarion asked, rolling his head on his neck as he stepped closer to Gale and continued their swaying, like nothing was wrong, like the two of them were exactly where they were supposed to be, doing exactly what they were supposed to be doing, what they wanted to be doing.
“Oh, come now, Astarion,” Gale exhaled. “You should know the price of a secret by this point. Why do you want the ring?”
Astarion’s gleam of mischief and intrigue drained out of his eyes. His lips thinned into a line. His brow wrinkled.
And then—just as quickly as before—he slipped back into the mask he’d been wearing all night. Gale was no stranger to disguises. He had a few of his own, so it didn’t surprise him that he could see through Astarion’s even after just meeting him.
“Maybe this is a secret we keep to ourselves, then,” Astarion said, and there was an attempt to keep his voice airy and seductive, untroubled, bored almost.
Gale could see through that, too.
Before he could say anything else, the song ended, and Astarion was stepping away from him. Gale, reluctantly, let him go, and he was overwhelmed by a sharp coldness that Astarion’s hand left on his shoulders in his wake. That clawing want in his chest reared back and slammed against his sternum once more, grabbing onto each rib like the rungs of a ladder, trying to climb its way from the depths of him a second time.
“Thank you for the lovely dance,” Astarion said, aristocratic and polite, and maybe Gale was imagining things, but it almost sounded like the words had been tipping over the edge of genuineness. “It was wonderful to meet you, Gale. Best of luck in your endeavor tonight. You’re going to need it.”
Gale felt his cheeks heat up, and he couldn’t stop the smile that stretched his lips. There were so many things that he wanted to say, so many questions that he still had. However, there were things that needed to be done, and Gale had an extra contender in this race, another variable that neither he nor Mystra had considered.
So, despite having a plethora of things that he could say, Gale only tipped his head down in a gracious nod. “I share the same sentiment as you, Astarion. I do so hope our paths will cross again.”
Astarion’s eyes flashed with something that Gale couldn’t decipher. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it just a moment later as if he’d thought better of it. Gale wished he knew what he was going to say, longed for just another sound of his voice before they must part.
Astarion didn’t give him that. Instead, the white-haired man turned on his heels with a hum and walked away like he hadn’t just come in and up-ended Gale’s entire night if not his entire life.
He really did have to find that ring before Astarion got to it, though.
Gale waited until he lost sight of Astarion in the crowd of nobles before he weaved his way through people, making his way to the library that Wyll had told him about. He’d gather his bearings there, and then he would start the search. It was a big estate, the Ravenguard palace, but Gale was confident in his abilities.
He knew that he would bring the ring to Mystra, just as she asked. Always so good at following her rules. Always the perfect lackey. Always where she needs him to be when she needs him to be there.
For the first time, Gale felt the absence of pride when faced with those facts. An absence so large that he was convinced there’d be a visible hole in the center of his chest should he pull up his fancy dress shirt and check for himself.
Gale didn’t check.
He just walked out of the ballroom and made his way to the library, his thoughts a mess of white hair and red eyes and cold skin and so many masks.
The library was grander than Gale was expecting, but he shouldn’t be surprised because the Ravenguard family was very well off. As Gale entered through the ornate double doors, he gazed dazedly at ceiling-high bookshelves that wrapped around the room. He was immediately enveloped in a slight sense of nostalgia and a longing for his library back at home. No matter how fancy this place was, the smell of well-worn pages was always the same.
The library seemed to stretch out before him, endless, a vast chamber illuminated by the glow of candelabras and wall torches. Stained glass windows covered the back wall at the end of the room, and Gale could only imagine how stunning it would look if the sun were shining through them right now, casting colorful patterns on the floor as he walked over them.
As far as Gale could tell, nobody else was in here with him. It was silent enough that he could still hear the muffled hum of the party from over here. The air was still, the library hollow, but Gale couldn’t see around every corner. If there was someone here, he didn’t know it.
But it wasn’t like he was going to be here for very long. There was an entire estate to explore and pick through, and while the task sounded daunting, Gale had an ace up his sleeve that he hoped Astarion didn’t also have.
Magic.
With a few words muttered under his breath, Gale released a little stream of thin light from the palm of his hand. It floated above him for a moment, silvery wisps that were barely visible, before it started drifting away from him, bobbing and weaving lackadaisically.
Gale stayed close behind it even as it led him back out of the library. While he followed it, he made sure to keep an eye out for anybody who might’ve strayed away from the ballroom. He didn’t want to be seen if he could help it, but luckily for him, there were only a few servants that he managed to hide from.
The silvery mist led him down a few hallways until he found himself in front of a set of stairs. With a little swirl, his magic skipped down the steps, and Gale was close behind.
The Ravenguard Dungeons were quite damp, it seemed, but Gale didn’t mind so much. He just continued to follow his magic until it abruptly stopped in front of a door, curled into itself, and shuddered, disappearing completely.
Trying the door handle didn’t work. Locked. So, Gale cast another spell, and the door swung open without any other problems which was surprising. One would think a room that housed a priceless magical artefact or two would have better security. He’d been expecting guards, but he supposed the majority of those, as well as the servants, were preoccupied with the ball happening upstairs.
The room Gale stepped into was small compared to any other room he’d been to in Ravenguard’s palace, but it was no less extravagant. Ornate chests were lined up on the back wall, sitting against a frame of gold. Portraits of old Ravenguard Lords were hung around the room, depicting generations upon generations of the family. Hundreds of years of lineage were on these walls, and Gale wasn’t even able to appreciate it because his eyes were already landing on a familiar figure hunched over one of the chests, rifling through it.
Gale wasn’t exactly expecting to find Astarion already inside, shifting through magic items as if this were his job. As if he wasn’t a dirty thief with seeking fingers, hungry for something, just like Gale.
Maybe he should take this moment of surprise and use it to his advantage. Maybe he should cast a quick spell that would have Astarion knocked out in less than a second. Maybe Gale should—
Suddenly, Astarion’s head jerked to the side, and Gale didn’t even get a chance to decide before Astarion was in front of him in the blink of an eye, quicker than lightning. His hand was on Gale’s throat, pushing him until his back was against the door he’d just come through. There was the slightest amount of pressure, but Gale could still breathe. Astarion wasn’t actively trying to choke him, at least.
No, he was just gasping because the wind had been knocked out of him. That was all. There was no other reason, and if there was, then it definitely wasn’t because Astarion crowded up close to him, pressing their bodies together with little shame.
“Hello, darling,” Astarion murmured in that low voice of his, and Gale’s breath hitched. “You’re late.”
“My sincerest apologies, rose. Do forgive me, will you?”
“I might if you can convince me why I should. Give me a good reason, and I just might.” Astarion tilted his head a bit, a dazzling smile lighting up his face, and it was then that Gale could see the sharp canines peeking over his lips.
Ah.
That would explain how he’d moved so quickly, the alluring nature, the red eyes. It was starting to piece itself together now.
“Well, I kept your secret, didn’t I? That’s worth something to you, surely?”
Astarion hummed, his eyes narrowing before he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Are you going to try and hurt me?”
Gale’s brow furrowed in genuine confusion. He’d thought about knocking Astarion unconscious but hurting him? A jolt of revulsion shuddered through him, caused a lump to form in his throat, and made his stomach twist and churn.
“I can’t think of anything more horrific than hurting you at the moment.”
Astarion blinked, and maybe Gale was imagining things, but he could’ve sworn the fingers pressing into his neck twitched slightly before relaxing against his skin. “Well, that’s quite sweet, isn’t it?” He said in that charming tone that made Gale’s disgust melt into something far warmer and more pleasant.
“I can be sweet,” Gale replied without thinking. He really should’ve been thinking right now, but he simply couldn’t. Astarion’s hand was on his skin. His breath was caressing his face. Those eyes were on him once more, and Gale couldn’t fucking think—
Astarion’s fingers fell away from him, and Gale missed the coolness of them. He wanted Astarion to put it back. Just for a little bit longer, and then he realized how idiotic he sounded to himself.
He was here to do something, and he was letting this man get between him and what was truly important to him.
Mystra would be so disappointed in him, and the idea of her disappointment shattered whatever soft, warm feeling that had bled into his chest. To disappoint her would be to anger her, and he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t face that.
He could practically see her face now, her frown, her accusing eyes, her hostile threats. If he came back empty handed, then his entire future would be up-ended. He’d be left with nothing.
Gale needed that fucking ring.
“Have you found it, yet?” he asked, hoping that Astarion would give him the answer he was looking for. He didn’t want to hurt Astarion. It was true when he said he couldn’t think of anything more horrifying, but if Astarion didn’t back down, then Gale would do what he needed to do to make it back to Mystra successfully.
“Not yet, no,” Astarion answered, and there was a slight edge of suspicion and wariness in his voice. “I’ve found plenty of other things, though.”
“Any chance I can convince you to take those things and leave the ring for me?”
Astarion laughed like crystals, and Gale’s stomach flipped on que. “What kind of thief do you take me for? Do you think that because we danced earlier and shared some soft touches I’m just going to roll over and give you whatever you want? You are pretty, darling, but I do have some dignity left.”
Gale could feel his cheeks heating up. He’d never been called pretty before, but he couldn’t let his mind linger on it. It was evident that Astarion wasn’t going to hand it over, and that meant Gale would have to do whatever was necessary to get out of this place with that ring in his pocket.
“I can’t let you have it,” Gale breathed, trying to shove down the stab of panic that was threatening to overtake him. He didn’t want to disappoint Mystra. He didn’t want to hurt Astarion. He didn’t even want to be here in the first place, and he hated that he had to be in this moment. He hated that Mystra made him do this, and he hated that he’d agreed so readily and enthusiastically, eager to redeem himself to her.
He was starting to realize that even if he was redeemed, Mystra would never truly care about.
And, oh, that was a bitter thought. He could practically taste it, and he wanted nothing more than to spit it out.
Astarion smirked, his teeth glinting, eyes shining. “You can’t stop me.”
He turned his back on Gale, completely confident that there was nothing Gale could do that would hurt him. There was a lot of trust in that display despite the two of them barely knowing each other. For all Astarion knew, Gale had a weapon on him. He could just rush forward and bury the hilt of a blade in between his shoulders.
Maybe it was the fact that he was a vampire, and if Gale tried to move at his slow, human pace, he’d be no match for such a creature. But Gale didn’t have a weapon on him. He didn’t need to move to send Astarion crashing into one of the portraits on the wall. All he needed to do was whisper a word under his breath, and Astarion would be taken out of the equation altogether.
Gale hesitated to do that, though. Despite the fear of disappointing Mystra, the repulsion of hurting Astarion was weighing down on him more. Neither of them had the ring, yet. There was no need to jump to violence before it was necessary.
He realized now that Astarion turned his back on Gale becaus he was still confident in the fact that Gale was wrapped around his finger, unable and unwilling to touch Astarion harshly. The sad part was Astarion had been absolutely correct.
“I suppose you can’t stop me, either,” Gale said instead of the spell that was on the tip of his tongue. He turned on his heels and went to a different chest than the one Astarion was rummaging through.
Astarion didn’t say anything to him. He didn’t acknowledge that Gale was even in the room with him after he’d turned his back. He just continued doing what he was doing before Gale interrupted him.
What a strange heist this was.
They dug around in these chests for a little while, neither of them saying anything. The air between them grew more and more tense with every silent minute that passed. With every second that ticked by, the two of them grew more frantic in their search.
Gale had moved on to a different chest when he noticed a small intake of breath behind him.
He didn’t know how he knew, but Astarion had found the ring. Gale’s stomach plummeted, and he felt like he could be sick. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to. No, no, no.
But what other choice did he have? Was there another way? Could he find it in the time it took for Astarion to walk from the chest to the door?
They both stood up straight at the same time, and Gale watched Astarion pocket a small, delicate-looking box. When his gaze traveled up to look at his face, Astarion winked. “Looks like I’m the lucky one tonight,” he started, his voice playful and light. Earlier, it had made Gale’s heart stutter in his chest. Now, it sent a shiver of cold dread washing over him. “Very lucky, actually. Not just because of this, either, but because I got to meet you. You made this night something special which is more than I could’ve ever expected. You’re a very interesting man, o wild West Wind. It was a pleasure getting to dance with you.”
“I can’t let you leave with that.” Gale couldn’t keep the panic out of his voice, and he would find it in himself to be embarrassed about it later. Right now, though, his ears were ringing. His hands were trembling. There was sweat beading on his brow. He was still trying to think of something else, a different way this could go.
Astarion only smiled once more, and Gale’s breath was stolen right from his lungs. Again, Astarion said, “You can’t stop me.”
Gale would have to this time.
Astarion turned toward the door, and the spell was flying from Gale’s mouth before the vampire could take another step toward the exit. He was flung backward toward the other side of the room, a surprised cry falling from his mouth, his body landing against the floor with a thud.
Gale didn’t even get the chance to feel the cold stab of regret and self-hatred for what he’d just done because Astarion was lifting himself to his feet with a hanging jaw and furrowed brows, clearly offended. “You didn’t tell me you were a wizard!”
“It wasn’t a secret you asked for.”
Astarion scoffed, rolled his head on his neck, and when he opened his eyes, there was danger swimming there. “That hurt, by the way. What happened to being unable to think of anything more horrific? Are you a liar then, Gale?”
Gale shuddered. He was worse than that. “I’m desperate.”
Astarion seemed to pause, his cocky expression flickering for the briefest of seconds before the mask was pulled back over it. He sneered. “Clearly.”
“I’m serious, Astarion. I need to leave with that ring or the person who asked me to do this, she’ll—”
“She’ll what? Kill you? Because that’s what mine will do to me if I don’t get this back to him.” Gale’s brain seemed to shut off for a second. He hadn’t considered that Astarion was here on someone else’s behalf. He thought that the vampire was here of his own accord, but Astarion was admitting to him that it was more dangerous for him to fail than to fight.
They weren’t different at all, really. The only thing Gale was sure of was that Mystra wouldn’t kill him. She’d cast him out, steal his life from under him, ruin his reputation, and do it all with a smile. But she wouldn’t take his life. She’d much prefer to watch him suffer in the aftermath of his failure.
Gale’s shoulders slumped. “He’ll really kill you?”
“He’ll probably rip out my throat personally just to make sure it hurts. He’s always liked watching people suffer—me in particular—and I don’t want to hurt you, Gale, but I don’t want to die, either.”
There were thoughts running through his mind so quickly that Gale could barely hold onto one for very long. He just knew that he needed the ring, and Astarion needed the ring. The two of them were no more than someone else’s pawn, moved around a board with sadistic delight. Fighting each other for people who wouldn’t care if they killed each other in this room.
At one time, Gale was happy to be a pawn, happy to sacrifice himself because Mystra told him, content to do her bidding.
He was far from happy, now.
Now, he was regretting the day he ever decided to follow Mystra at all. While he’d learned so much from her, nothing could justify the fight brewing between two men who had just danced and flirted effortlessly a little under an hour ago. Two men who leaned into each other were now snarling and clawing for something that neither of them really wanted nor needed.
“Don’t go back,” Gale blurted because Astarion was preparing to charge, his lips curling into a grimace until Gale spoke. Then there was a blank expression directed at him followed by tension coiling in Astarion’s shoulders. “Don’t go back to him. Whoever it is. I can help you—”
Astarion made a ridiculing sound, a wrinkle forming between his eyes as he scowled. “You can’t help me. You don’t even know me. This isn’t one of your damn poetry books, Gale. This isn’t one of your stories. You can’t be the hero in this one. Forgive me for being astonishingly affronted, but politely, get out of my way and go fuck yourself.”
“Astarion—”
There was a blur of movement, and Gale was pressed up against the wall, Astarion’s hand around his throat once more. This time, however, there was pressure, and Gale’s windpipe felt like it was currently being crushed. He tried to suck in a breath, but there was no way it was making its way into his lungs. His own hand came up to claw at Astarion’s wrist, but it seemed like the vampire was only amused at this attempt.
He couldn’t cast any spells if he couldn’t breathe.
Was this how he died? If so, he could think of worse ways. Many worse ways. Actually, most ways were worse, so he might be the luckiest son of a bitch this side of the Sea of Swords if this was how he met his end.
“I really didn’t want to hurt you,” Astarion said, his voice quieter now, softer, sadder, “but you just had to go and piss me off, didn’t you.”
It was here, with black spots dancing in his vision, that Gale finally thought of a different way. Finally, he made his choice, and he was at peace with what it would mean for him and his future if Astarion didn’t kill him here. He was sure it would fail, but he was out of time and options. He had to at least try.
Gale choked out the words as best he could, his voice raspy and barely audible as he continued trying to pull Astarion’s hand away out of pure survival instinct. “Run—ack—Run away with me.”
Astarion’s brows flew up, a baffled expression that he could not mask. His eyes were darting over Gale’s face, and there was something in them that Gale couldn’t understand. A flicker of light that threatened to shine brighter than any Gale was familiar with.
The grip around his throat loosened so that he could suck in a sharp breath.
“What did you say?” Astarion asked, blinking. His question sounded genuine, like he really hadn’t heard or understood what Gale had said. Like his request had snapped every other thought from Astarion’s head.
He gulped in another breath of air and coughed before repeating himself, conviction making his voice stronger than it should’ve been after being choked. “Run away with me.”
Astarion laughed then, but it wasn’t crystals. This was a harsh, cutting sound that made Gale cringe. “Run away with you? You really are delusional, aren’t you? I didn’t think there was such a thing as reading too much, but I’m afraid you’re mistaking this for some kind of fairytale, Gale. For the second time, this isn’t a story, and it certainly doesn’t have a happy ending for one of us, at least.”
“It could,” Gale insisted, and while this was the most impulsive he’d ever been, he couldn’t bring himself to go back on it. He’d do it, too, and he wouldn’t regret it. He’d take the ring and Astarion and run as far away as he could. Away from Mystra. Away from whoever Astarion was working for. Away from everything that threatened to hurt them or make them hurt each other.
“We could make it, the two of us,” Gale continued, and Astarion remained quiet, listening, attentive. “We could watch each other’s back. Take it one day at a time. We could sell the ring and buy a ship for ourselves if we wanted. Sail around the world. Or maybe it could get us a castle if that’s what you want. I’ve realized that I don’t particularly want to go back with or without the ring, so I don’t think I will. Would you like to come with me?”
Astarion’s mouth opened and closed and opened again. His eyes were still tracing every curve of Gale’s face, and he could practically feel it traveling over his skin, passing every freckle and mole twice over. He was wearing an expression that Gale had never seen before.
Vulnerable hope had never looked better on anyone else.
Astarion shook his head minutely, nearly imperceptibly. “You’re tricking me. This is some kind of trick.”
Gale softened, his shoulders dropping. “No, Astarion, I’m not. I’ve made my decision. I’m not going back. You can take the ring right now and walk out the door. I won’t stop you, but—but I want you to come with me. We’ll go wherever you want. Let me help you get to somewhere safe, at least, and then I’ll leave you be if you wish.”
“You’re probably the dumbest man I’ve ever met in my life,” Astarion muttered, but despite the insult, he almost sounded awed, reverent. The look on his face certainly reflected it, his lips parted, his breathing shallow, eyes growing brighter and brighter.
Gale laughed. “Maybe. I’m well-studied, but I’m finding that there’s still much for me to learn. I’m a quick study, though. If you’ve anything to teach me, I’ll be the perfect student.”
“You should know that if I do this—Gods, I can’t believe I’m even entertaining this right now—If we do this, you should know a few things first. A few secrets, if you’d like to return them later.”
“I’ll give you everything.” He hadn’t meant for it to sound so eager, but if it made Astarion’s lips twitch upward, then Gale couldn’t be too upset about it.
“The man who tasked me to get the ring will hunt me down just to slaughter me. He’ll send people to kill me, and he won’t stop until he knows that I’m dead. Is that something you believe you can handle? Looking over your shoulder wherever you go simply for being my companion? Do you still want me to run away with you when you know that’s what the future holds?”
“We could always kill him first,” Gale suggested, and he wasn’t entirely joking. Not really.
Astarion’s eyes darkened with fear and something else that looked like beaten fury. “You are something,” he muttered under his breath before tilting his chin up and raising his voice. “I’m sure you’re aware that I’m also a vampire spawn. How do you feel about that?”
Gale shrugged. “If you bite me, don’t kill me. If you can refrain from bleeding me dry, I think we’ll be alright.”
“We’ll never get to be in the sun together,” Astarion continued, sadness lacing every word spoken. “No one will ever see us in the daylight.”
Gale reached up a hand, pausing when Astarion jerked back instinctively, eyes snagging on the hand in a defensive glower. When he saw that Gale wasn’t going to do anything to attack, Astarion moved his gaze back to his face as the wizard reached up to brush a stray piece of white hair out of Astarion’s face.
“How fortunate, then, that you are a masterpiece under moonlight.”
Gale watched Astarion swallow, his throat clicking as he took a step away from Gale, removing himself from under Gale’s palms. Gale wanted to tug him back, tuck him into his chest so that he was hidden from prying eyes, keep him close so that no one could hurt him.
“I don’t think you realize what you say sometimes nor the affect it has on people.”
Gale grinned, pleased by this for some inexplicable reason. “By people, you don’t happen to mean yourself, do you?”
Astarion ignored him. “This might be the most impulsive, most reckless, stupidest thing I’ve ever considered.”
“But you are considering?”
There was a moment of silence that passed between them, and Gale dared to hope. It was such a life-changing thing they were speaking about here, but it didn’t feel as scary as it should’ve been. If anything, Gale had never felt more excited or freer than he did in the Ravenguard dungeons with a vampire spawn he’d only just met, talking about running away together.
Despite Gale’s feelings about it, Astarion did look scared. His eyes were wide and his shoulders were squared and he was looking around the room like something was going to attack him at any second. He looked fucking terrified, and Gale wished he could steal his fear and make something beautiful out of it just to gift it back to him. He wished Astarion could feel the relief of a life left behind the way he did.
“I think I am,” Astarion whispered. “Gods, I think I’ve gone mad because I am considering it. I don’t even know you.”
“Do you want to?”
“Yes.” There was no hesitation or doubt, and that had to mean something. That had to be enough for a start, at least. A foundation could be built off of that, and Gale would work diligently to make sure it remained stable, that whatever they built on top of it—if they decided to build anything at all—would be supported.
“Then let’s go.”
“Gale—This is—” Astarion shook his head again, and it was the first time Gale heard him stutter. “This is madness, isn’t it? This is—We can’t do this.”
“Why not?” Gale asked, unable to hide the giddiness in his voice. “Why can’t we?”
Astarion didn’t have an answer for him, so Gale took a step forward, reached for his hand, and smiled when Astarion let him tangle their fingers together.
“Let’s go,” he repeated in a whisper, and he saw the last of Astarion’s resolve visibly shatter as he let out a rush of air, the tension leaking out of his body as he slumped into himself. There was no more mask. Gale could see that it had been abandoned somewhere along the way. The man standing before him was all Astarion in every glorious, messy detail.
Gale couldn’t wait to know him.
“We’ll keep each other safe?” Astarion asked, searching for something that Gale would give him a million times over. “We’ll watch each other’s backs?”
“I pity the poor soul that comes after you, Astarion. I really do. It won’t be pretty what I do to them.”
Astarion took a shaky breath in before squeezing Gale’s fingers in his own. “Alright.”
Gale’s chest felt so warm. “Alright?”
With a nod, Astarion said, “Let’s go.”