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Astarion took a deep breath as he paused in front of the door to the atrium of the artificer school, his nerves starting to set in. Typically, he avoided attending staff events, preferring to distance himself from his co-workers to maintain his self-imposed isolation after a millenia. After all, they were all mortal, no matter how long-lived they might be, and in the face of his immortality, the pain of watching his friends pass on would never lessen. For a moment, he let a thought linger on Gale, who would have told him to stop being such a miserable vampire and to enjoy himself.
“Ready?” The dean of the law school, Lina, had her arm wrapped around his elbow, a gesture to keep him from fleeing rather than affection.
He had been startled by her marching boldly into his office, almost dropping the mug of lukewarm blood all over his very expensive trousers, only for her to boldly tell him that he was accompanying her to this event and that it was non-negotiable. “You can’t hide away forever, Astarion.”
The way she had said it had reminded him desperately of his dearest friend, Tav, the wood elf who had stayed by his side after… after he had lost everything. Who had been the one strong enough to go through the wizard’s belongings and find the sunwalking ring and the damned note.
He had been powerless to say no in the face of that reminder, feeling almost as if he owed this to Tav.
“Not at all,” he admitted softly, looking at the runes engraved along the door, wards for what he assumed were for protection. They glowed softly with a green light.
“I wasn’t entirely sure you would agree to come,” was Lina’s response. He gave a sidelong glance at the tiefling.
“You didn’t give me much of a choice, darling,” he drawled out. “You know, you remind me of someone I knew once, long ago.”
“An old lover?” As soon as she said that, he turned to her, eyebrows raised. She at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed, but her face was unreadable. He looked down at her hand at his elbow.
“No. A dear friend, who forced me to keep going after… after my soulmate passed.” His honesty surprised him, but time had dulled his sharp attitude, once he returned to society a hero, only to fade back into obscurity. The mark over his chest burned at the reminder of what he had, what he lost, and what he could have had. “I’m not–” Her hand on his elbow was tight, in a way that he could almost interpret as possessive and he prepared himself to turn her down, even with the knowledge that she had the power to end his time at Balduran University. It didn’t matter much to him, he would survive. He always did.
“Oh. Oh.” She pulled her hand away when she noticed where he was looking. “That wasn’t me propositioning you. I’ve found my soulmate.” Her expression turned to sorrow. “Your soulmate…”
“Yes.” He gave her a wry smile but did not elaborate.
“I don’t mean to pry, but… when?”
“Oh, a millennia, give or take a few centuries.” He tried to keep his voice light, which, based on the stricken look on her face, he did not succeed in. “The trade off of vampiric immortality. Eternal youth for loneliness.”
He wanted to turn, to return to his office, to return home to his books and misery. He almost did, until Lina squeezed his shoulder, a move of comfort instead of control. “You don’t always have to be alone, you know. All those years… it’s enough to drive anyone mad.”
He managed to suppress a flinch as her words hit a little too close to home, managing to instead plaster a smile on his face, a lie perfected ages ago, before illithids, before tadpoles, before he lost everything in exchange for nothing. “Perhaps I am a little mad, darling. What sane person would attend a faculty mixer thrown by artificers? They certainly don’t know what good wine looks like. Shall we?”
Sensing his words as the dismissal that they were, she gave him a soft smile. “Shall we?”
The doors opened as they approached, powered by the magic in the runes and immediately, the quiet that they had momentarily enjoyed while outside was shattered by the music and conversation from the party.
He looked around, grimacing at the shimmering lights above their head that someone had enchanted to flicker between several different colors. The music playing was a soft instrumental cover of a currently trending song, provided by a quartet of bards tucked away in the corner.
“The bar’s over there.” Luckily with the volume of music, Lina did not need to raise her voice.
“Then what are we waiting for?” he quipped back, making a beeline towards the back of the queue. If he couldn’t escape this event, he could at least face it with some social lubricant in the form of questionable wine.
The line moved quickly thanks to the three bartenders manning the event and soon enough, they were at the front. This particular bartender was cute, dark hair falling into his eyes, as he greeted them with an easy-going smile. “What can I get you?”
Astarion did not miss the appreciative once-over that the human gave him, nor the question posed to him through heavy-lidded eyes. He took a moment to peruse the wine list, before deciding on the Westgate Ruby. As he ordered, he leaned over the counter, making direct eye contact. “Make it a heavy pour, if you would, darling.”
The man blushed before turning away, fumbling with the bottle. Lina raised an eyebrow at him.
He looked back blankly, daring her to say anything. “Your wine, sir.” The glass of wine was slid across the counter, a napkin tucked underneath with a phone number scrawled across it.
Astarion flashed him a smile and dug out a gold piece from his pocket to drop into the tip jar. “Thank you, darling. I’ll be back, I’m sure.”
Lina rolled her eyes and shouldered her way in front of him. “Athkatlan clarry for me, please.”
As the bartender turned his attention to her, Astarion picked up his glass, swirling the dark liquid around and bringing it to his lips. It was acidic, borderline unbearably so, but as expected from this specific vintage. With his other hand, he snagged the napkin and tucked it into the inner pocket of his sports jacket, a dark crimson linen number that he favored for the late summer weather.
He overheard the bartender apologizing to Lina, that he would need to retrieve a new bottle of the wine she requested, and turned to survey the room, contemplating on how long he would be obligated to stay before he could escape. Snippets of conversation floated over to him, ranging from the expected (really darling, the bulk of attendees here were professors, funding was always damn near impossible to get) to the downright scandalous (did you hear about the two students who were caught filming a pornographic video in the library?), but none of it shocked Astarion. Very little would shock him after a millennia of existence.
But then, as he stared out into the crowd, the sight of a man made him freeze. He blinked rapidly, convinced that his mind had finally broken and conjured up a hallucination to torment him. It couldn’t be him. But as the seconds drew out into eternity, he had to confront the reality of who he was seeing. His head grew light, and it took every ounce of willpower to keep his grip on the wineglass in his hand.
There he was, in all of his glory. Astarion almost forgot how beautiful he was. Gale Dekarios, whole in body and spirit.
He moved towards him, mind racing with questions. How? Why? Astarion had been there when the orb had detonated, screaming and falling to his knees when the Netherbrain had fallen. He hadn’t even been given a chance to mourn before he felt the pain of the tadpole dying within his head, followed by the searing pain of the sun on his skin.
While he had accepted his end, Tav and Halsin had acted quickly, dragging him into the safety of the shadows between the building and casting healing spells on him.
Back then, he had resented them for rescuing him, for keeping him hostage in his own skin, instead of joining Gale in the Fugue Plane. They had insisted that Gale would not have wanted this, that he would have wanted Astarion to live on.
So he did, mourning the loss of his soulmate, the only glimmer of hope that he had been granted in almost two hundred years of pure hell.
So how was Gale here, in the present day? He came to a stop in front of the other man, his hands shaking as he suppressed the urge to reach out and touch him, the burning need to check that this was really Gale and not some figment of his imagination.
“Can I help you?” Astarion knew he was staring, knew that he must have looked like a lunatic but all semblance of speech left him when he heard Gale’s voice.
He had forgotten what he sounded like.
That opened a chasm in his chest, years of sorrow and grief bubbling to the surface. “I–”
Luckily, he was saved from looking even more like a fool as Lina sidled up to him, touching his arm. “What in the world– Oh, hello, Gale. I see you’ve met Astarion. He’s one of our law professors.”
Gale’s attention was directed towards Lina, and the visceral reaction that elicited in Astarion surprised even himself, unwilling to lose any chance to have Gale looking at him. He stuck a hand out. “Astarion Ancunin. It’s a pleasure, dar–” He stopped himself from dropping the pet name he was accustomed to using for everyone and everything. “It’s a pleasure, Gale.”
The wary look that he received in response hurt more than he wanted to admit, but he held strong, his hand still extended. “Gale Dekarios, Professor of Evocation.” He reached out to shake the offered touch. Astarion frowned when the touch remained just that– a touch. And yet, as he felt the warmth of Gale's skin, he allowed himself to begin to hope that this was his redemption, a second chance. “I’ve heard much about you.”
“Good things, I hope,” he replied, attempting to keep his voice light. “I’m afraid I haven’t heard much about you.”
“Hm.” Gale took his hand back, an unimpressed look on his face. Astarion's heart sunk as he realized that Gale likely had been told of his tendency towards isolation, bordering on rudeness at times. “I suppose we run in different circles around here, clearly.”
The words gave him a moment of deja vu as he remembered saying something very similar to Gale the first time they met. He choked back a laugh. “Clearly. I–” he turned and shoved his wineglass at Lina, “hold this for me one second.” He patted his pockets to look for his phone, only to find that he must have left it in his office. Shit. His fingers caught on something in his inner pocket, and he pulled out a slightly rumpled napkin.
Gale’s frown continued to grow deeper. “It was nice meeting you, Astarion. Pleasure as always, Lina.”
Frantically, Astarion looked towards Lina and pressed a hand over his heart, praying to whatever gods who might be listening that she would get the message. Her eyebrows knit together briefly in confusion, her eyes darting downwards before her expression cleared in understanding. “You’ll have to forgive Astarion, Gale,” she said hurriedly, passing Astarion’s drink back to him. “He’s been a bit of a hermit and has forgotten how to function in proper society.” She leaned forward and whispered, “side effect of being alive for over a millennia, you understand.”
In any situation, Astarion would have bared his fangs and snarled at her, but he was thinking about giving her all of his immeasurable wealth as Gale’s suspicion gave way to curiosity. “A millennia, you say?” he asked, giving Astarion an appraising look.
“The unfortunate side effect of vampirism, alas.” His vampiric nature was far from secret, but few people had been inclined to know him well enough for that particular fact to be revealed.
“But I’ve… seen you walking around in the sunlight.”
“Ah.” Astarion looked down, a sad smile creeping on his face. “I… I have a ring to protect me from the sun. One my soulmate created for me.” He held a hand up, showing the gold band that he wore on his right ring finger.
Gale blinked, before he eyed the ring, an almost greedy expression on his face. “May I?”
Astarion hesitated for a moment, unwilling to part with one of the only things he had left from his Gale, but chided himself for being silly. This was Gale in front of him. His soulmate.
He ignored the small voice in the back of his mind questioning if that was still the case in favor of removing the ring and handing it to him. “Be careful with it.”
Gale took it and murmured a spell, his hands glowing purple, as he closed his eyes in concentration. Astarion felt Lina touch his arm. When he looked at her, there was a question in her eyes. Is he the one?
He shrugged.
The glow around Gale’s hands dissipated, only to look up at Astarion in confusion. “Who did you say made this?”
Astarion’s breath caught in his throat. “My soulmate,” he replied, desperately, hopeful.
“Hm,” Gale frowned, as he looked down at the ring again.
“Gale, dearest.” A woman slid up next to him, dressed in a dark blue sheath dress. She was pretty, green eyes set above a petite nose, with full brown hair that cascaded down her back in waves. “I thought I lost you for a moment.”
Gale’s expression lit up upon seeing her, and he reached out to wrap an arm around her, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “You could never lose me, my love.”
It was like a sucker punch to Astarion’s gut. My love.
Lina grasped his arm firmly, a lifeline in the spiral he was going down. “Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met before…?”
“Myra. Myra Dekarios. I’m Gale’s soulmate.”
He wanted to throw up. The room spun around him as he stared at the arm Gale had around the woman. He felt trapped, back in that crypt from over a thousand years, a memory long-forgotten, dragged to the surface. He needed to get out of there. He needed… “I’m sorry, I have to go.” With that, he turned and fled, shouldering past colleagues roughly, keeping his head bowed and face hidden as the tears he had fought so hard to hold back began to fall.
The door to the atrium slammed shut behind him, and he ignored the greetings from some of the other faculty members to find a secluded nook away from prying eyes. He took deep, gulping breaths as he rested his head on the wall of the small study cubicle, wiping the tears away angrily.
How could fate be so cruel? After over a thousand years of existence, of trying to do the right thing, it all came down to this. He pressed a hand onto his aching soulmark, desperately wishing that it would flare up in confirmation that yes, Gale had returned to him.
Images of how Gale had looked at Myra, with the soft look in his eyes and lopsided smile, flickered through his mind. That was how Gale used to look at him.
With a heavy feeling in his chest, he acted on autopilot, making his way back to his office, packing up his belongings, locking up, and driving home to his empty apartment. It wasn't until he settled into his bed that he noticed a new message indicator on his phone. It was from Lina.
Where did you go?
For a moment, he thought about ignoring her, but she knew his address.
I left, apologies for leaving you to those vultures. I do hope the party wasn't dull without my sparkling company.
Are you okay?
He hesitated over the keyboard.
I will be.
You left your ring.
Astarion let out a curse under his breath when he realized that in his hurry to escape, he had left his ring with Gale.
Would you be so kind as to drop it off for me? I would come to see you myself, but unfortunately, I don't do well in daylight.
I'll make sure it's returned to you.
Thank you.
Maybe it wasn't so bad to have friends again, he thought to himself.
–-
The next morning, as he stared, dumbfounded, at the sight of one Gale Dekarios standing sheepishly on his porch, he was beginning to regret ever having entertained Lina.
“Ah, good morning, Professor Ancunin. Lina gave me your address.”
I'll make sure it's returned to you, that conniving little– he cut off the frankly downright murderous train of thought to offer Gale a tentative smile. “Good morning to you too, Professor Dekarios. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
He could hear the man's rapid heartbeat, drumming under his skin in a rapid tat-tat-tat. “Please, just Gale is fine.” He fumbled around in the brown messenger bag he had hanging off one shoulder, before drawing out a small bag that he offered out to Astarion. “You left this with me last night.”
“Exchanging rings with another while married, Mr. Dekarios? How scandalous.” Years of practice was the only thing keeping his voice from cracking.
In another lifetime, Astarion may have been the one to wear the Dekarios name like a badge of honor.
“Ah, that's not–”
Astarion deftly opened the small pouch and upturned it over his open palm. The familiar ring fell into his hand, undamaged, to his relief, and he slid it on, the magic wrapping around him. “Thank you for returning this to me,” he said, looking up at Gale.
“That's not actually all I'm here for, I'm afraid. May I come in?”
Waving a hand, he stepped aside, allowing the wizard entrance to his home. He noted Gale's eyes drifted over the eclectic collection of trinkets and furniture, focusing in particular on the Book of Thay, locked securely behind a glass cabinet. Astarion couldn't help but smile, remembering how jealous his Gale had been when Tav had given Astarion the book over him.
“Feel free to sit anywhere. I would offer refreshment, but I am unfortunately lacking in appropriate beverages for one of a non-vampiric variety.”
“Ah, that's quite all right. I hope to not take up too much of your time.”
You could stay forever, Astarion wanted to say. Instead, he hummed and sank down on the jewel green settee in the middle of the room. Gale sat across from him in a red armchair that clashed terribly with the lilac shirt he wore. It was charming, in a heartbreaking sort of way, to see Gale surrounded by all the material belongings that Astarion carefully curated to make his house feel like home. “I'm all pointy ears,” he said instead, forcing himself to remain properly seated, ignoring the urge to curl in on himself.
“I wanted to apologize.”
“Apologize?” Astarion repeated dumbly. “Whatever for?”
“I was quick to judge you. To treat you unkindly.” Gale's gaze was steady. Genuine. “It was not fair of me.”
Astarion stared at him, flabbergasted.
“My judgment was based on unsubstantiated rumors that painted you in a less than flattering light.”
“I can assure you that most of those rumors were substantiated,” Astarion replied weakly.
“Still, I should have given you a chance.”
He waved a hand through the air. “Water under the bridge. Apology accepted.”
He expected Gale to take that as his mission accomplished, to leave and walk out of his house, his life, to return to his soulmate, but to his surprise, the man remained where he was. There was a brief suffocating silence that had Astarion squirming in his seat.
“What was it like?” Gale finally asked, putting Astarion out of his misery.
“What was what like?”
“Losing your soulmate.”
Astarion's breath caught in his throat at the question. Somewhere, Withers (Jergal, Astarion always knew that walking skeleton was more than he seemed) was laughing at him. The wheel of fucking fate indeed, dragging him under, time and time again. “It was… it almost ruined me,” he replied, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around himself.
“It must have happened a long time ago.”
Astarion peered up at Gale, gauging what game he was playing at, to probe at the gaping wound in his heart like this. “It did,” he confirmed cautiously.
“He must have loved you very much to create such a powerful magical artifact for you.”
“I–” Astarion didn't know where to even begin in response to that. He settled for, “yes, I imagine he did.”
“...” Gale seemed to take pity on him, as he smiled sadly and said, “I'm sorry for your loss,” before he stood and departed.
With each footstep, Astarion wanted to reach out, to ask Gale to stay, to not leave him again, but he knew that he had no such claim to him in this lifetime.
–-
Interestingly, Astarion seemed to notice Gale everywhere after their strange interaction.
It started while he was in a less-frequented section of the law library locating a specific book on admiralty law surrounding salvage rights on shipwrecks laid claim to by krakens. Suddenly Gale was in that same aisle, waving cheerfully at him and discussing the details of a particularly gruesome posthumous conviction of a wizard who had been murdered in his own home, only for the necrotic curse on his body to kill not only the intruders, but multiple people within a 20 meter radius.
On the rare occasion that Astarion decided that he needed some caffeine to keep him functional, he would somehow bump into Gale at the only coffee shop he went to on campus, sometimes in line, sometimes while he was already sitting with his beverage. Regardless, he would find Gale sitting across from him, chatting about his research in magic, the current students he was tutoring on the side, and griping about how the students in his 101 class didn't actually care about the Weave, but were just there for an easy A.
These meetings left Astarion confused and with more questions than answers. How did Gale always seem to know where he was? (The thought of having a magical tracker on him made his skin crawl, but he had picked up a trick or two in his long life and he could not detect any magic on his person.) Why was Gale so determined to get close to him? If Astarion had his way, he would happily keep his distance, let Gale and his soulmate live their lives with one another, while he continued to exist outside of their little bubble.
It all came to head when he dismissed his class at the end of a lecture, kneeling down to pack his own belongings into his bag, when a shadow fell over him. He looked up to see Gale standing here, an unreadable expression on his face. “Gale,” Astarion greeted, rising to his feet.
“Astarion,” was the response in kind. “Are you returning to your office?” When Astarion nodded, Gale brightened. “Excellent, I’ll walk with you!” Blissfully, Gale was quiet on the walk through the building, as Astarion stole glances at the wizard in confusion.
Astarion unlocked his door and stepped aside to let Gale in.
“You seem to be lost, my dear evocation professor. This is the law building.” The School of Evocation was on the other side of campus.
“It's quite a story to tell, actually, I was walking back to my office when I passed the music building and I remembered the last time you had mentioned–”
Normally, Astarion found Gale’s propensity for verbosity endearing, but in that moment, something in him broke and all of the heartbreak and grief that had been building up over the past month was too much to handle. “What are you doing, Gale?” he asked, exhausted by whatever the wizard was doing. “Why are you following me around campus?”
Gale's mouth snapped shut, a sheepish expression crawling onto his face. “I… er. Well.” Astarion waited for him to continue. “Can I not want to be friends with a colleague?”
Astarion cocked his head at him, staring appraisingly at him. “I don't…” When he saw Gale's face fall, something clenched in his stomach. “Look, Gale…” He ran a hand through his hair, blowing out a sigh.
“Astarion, please.”
For a brief, beautiful moment, Astarion could close his eyes and pretend that Gale was here in front of him, pretend that they had both survived the final battle, extending his hand to him for their happy ending.
Gale with his hand outstretched to take Astarion by his, so they could sneak away to a clearing. The grey streaks in his hair illuminated by the moonlight, as Astarion watched Gale fall apart under his hands, thinking that maybe he could learn to love Gale.
Gale yelling his name before incinerating the Githyanki warriors surrounding him, the flames surrounding Astarion harmlessly. When he looked back at Gale to see the fury and concentration on his eyes reflecting the fire, he thought to himself, “I love him”, words that he would not be brave enough to say until after they defeated Cazador.
Gale pushing him away after the final, desperate kiss before the Netherbrain and teleporting the party far away to safety. The last view of Gale he saw was him turning to climb the stem, before he was on the docks of Baldur’s Gate, staring up at the purple explosion above them and feeling his heart shatter into a million pieces.
There was a light touch to his hand. “Astarion?” The cold reality that this man was no longer his and never would be again washed over him, dousing him in ice.
With a jolt, Astarion realized he was crying. He scrambled backwards away from Gale. “Don't!” he exclaimed in his panic, baring his fangs.
Gale held his hands out, eyes wide with an emotion that Astarion could not read in his emotional turmoil. “I'm not going to hurt you, Astarion.”
You already have, and you don’t even know it. Astarion was shaking, tears falling freely down his cheeks. “I can't, not…” Not with you, not like this. “I'd like to ask you to leave. Now,” he managed to choke out, as he turned and looked at his bookshelves, grounding himself in the familiar tomes that had traveled with him during his time. He was grateful that none of his Gale's books were here, sequestered safely at home.
He heard the footsteps padding across the polished floor, heard the door open and close, and once again, he was alone.
–-
For the next two months, Astarion was more productive than he had ever been in his entire existence, working to the point of exhaustion, in a concerted effort to not allow himself to get lost in his own mind. He lectured on autopilot, volunteering to oversee more student clubs and activities, anything to keep himself occupied.
Despite driving himself to exhaustion, he would find himself occasionally turning around to say something to a person no longer there.
The pain was something he would need to learn to live with.
Sometimes, he would see Gale around campus, from milling outside of the law school in the courtyard with a book, periodically looking up and around or in the cafe that they had run into on occasion. A hastily muttered invisibility spell or quick retreat was his way of escaping any awkward encounters.
Gale clearly still wanted to be friends.
Astarion knew he would not survive just being friends.
He had hoped that by ignoring Gale’s texts and calls, that the wizard would get the message, but he continued to be persistent. A smarter man would have blocked him.
Astarion never claimed to be a smart man, not when he would watch the texts trickle in, which ranged from the ridiculous (I almost had my eyebrows singed off by a student who lost control of her fireball today) to the sentimental (I saw this book that reminded me of you, I couldn’t help myself and added it to my collection. In case you’re ever interested). Even this small part of Gale he would hoard greedily and keep close to his chest, reading the messages over and over again, wishing circumstances were different.
And so time continued. Rinse and repeat.
Until a harsh knock on the door one night. He had been lounging on his sofa, dressed only in a pair of sweatpants, a glass of wine on the side table and some sordid romance book in his hand. The clock showed that it was just past midnight.
Maybe the wrong house? Astarion stayed put, waiting to see if the person at the door would go away.
To his shock, the door swung open and Gale stumbled across the threshold. From the look and smell of him, he was very drunk.
“What are you doing here?” Astarion asked, calmly placing his bookmark into the book, betraying the fear and nerves threatening to burst out of his chest. He stood. “I do not appreciate this invasion into my privacy.” Gale must have cast Knock on the locked door.
“You’ve been ignoring me,” Gale slurred accusingly. “You…”
To Astarion’s horror, Gale’s eyes dropped down to the soulmark on display over his undead heart. He gaped at it, before rushing over inelegantly, stumbling when he stubbed his toe on the coffee table.
Astarion backed away, only to find himself back on his sofa, this time with an extremely drunk wizard scrambling into his lap. “What are you– this is inappropriate, Gale!” he snapped out, as there was a warm hand on his chest, right over the mark, a swirl of purple intertwined with stars.
Gale was ignoring him, muttering ,“it isn’t working. Why isn’t it working?” to Astarion’s bafflement.
“What isn’t working?”
Brown met red, a sorrowful look in Gale’s eyes. “The soulmark.”
“You’re not my soulmate, Gale.” Each word was wrenched out of him with the same agony of the sun burning his flesh alive. He reached out to move Gale’s palm upwards. “This is your soulmark. You’ve met your soulmate already.” The eight-point star on his forearm mocked him.
“She’s not… not right.” Gale shook his head. “I left her.” His free hand came up and cupped Astarion’s cheek, a brand not meant for him. “I left her,” he repeated.
Astarion swallowed, shoving away any hope forming. “She’s still your soulmate,” he replied in a whisper, reaching up to remove Gale’s hand.
The movement of his hand seemed to catch Gale’s attention. “The ring!” he exclaimed, turning to grab Astarion’s hand, the sunwalking ring safely on his finger.
Astarion moved to pull away, but drunk Gale’s grip was surprisingly strong. “What about the ring?”
“You said… you said your soulmate made it for you.”
“Yes.”
“I can recognize my own magic anywhere.”
Dread pooled in Astarion’s gut at that revelation, remembering how the mage had inspected that very ring the first night they met. Had Gale known from the start? He chose to deflect, to protect whatever remnants of his heart that remained whole in his chest. “I wouldn’t know what you mean, darling. Are you quite sure you didn’t muck up your own spell somehow? It wouldn’t be the first time a wizard mistook someone else’s magic as his own.”
If Astarion knew how to do one thing well, it was how to pry and prod at someone’s insecurities to drive them away. Questioning Gale's competency with the Weave had always been a sore spot for him. Astarion hoped that had not changed.
It seemed to work, as Gale’s face flushed and his eyebrows furrowed. But then, he looked down once again at the soulmark on Astarion’s chest and all the anger just… melted away, giving way to murmured apologies and tears. “I’m sorry, Astarion. I’m so sorry, Star…”
The nickname froze Astarion to the spot. Star. My Star. He didn’t dare hope. He couldn’t.
“You were alone for so long,” Gale was still talking. “Missing your soulmate, it’s enough to kill anyone.”
“You’re drunk, Gale.” As gently as he could manage, he pushed Gale off his lap. “You know nothing about my life. Do not presume you do.” He was shaking, from rage or from grief, he couldn’t tell. “You may stay, but I would like you gone in the morning.” He closed his eyes, fighting back tears, drawing up the years of cruelty from so long ago “We are not friends, we cannot be friends, I could never be friends with someone like you.”
With a precise turn that would have made Lae’zel proud, he forced himself to walk away, up the stairs, and finally to his bedroom.
–-
That night, Astarion laid in bed, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep or fall into a trance. The next thing he knew, the sun was rising, the light filtering into his bedroom. He was loathe to go downstairs, as he could hear the soft noises of Gale snoring. There seemed to be nothing doing, as he turned back over and continued to stare at the white wall.
It was a few hours later that he heard the snoring stop and the flush of a toilet. He remained still, hoping that this was the end of it and that Gale would be on his way out of his home and his life.
But then, a familiar copper smell filled the house, making Astarion jump up and run downstairs. He froze in shock when he saw Gale over the kitchen sink, blood dripping down his wrist into a glass. “What happened?” he demanded, voice almost frantic.
Gale, shockingly, looked up calmly and not at all hungover. “Good morning, Astarion.”
“You–” Astarion bound across the kitchen in a few steps and snatched up a dishcloth, attempting to press it against the wound, only to have Gale block him. “What are you thinking?” His nostrils flared as the scent of the still-warm blood hit him.
“You were gracious enough to host me, this was the least I could do,” When the glass was mostly filled, Gale cast a healing spell (and how times had changed, Astarion didn’t remember the wizard having any sort of affinity towards healing previously), his skin slightly pallid from the blood loss. “Here.” With his other hand, he held the glass out.
Astarion took it, only to set it aside. “Wait here,” he commanded gruffly, turning and opening a drawer to pull out a scroll of lesser restoration. To his relief, the color returned to Gale’s face with the spell.
“You should have it before it gets cold.”
Reluctantly, Astarion took a sip. The blood was fresh and rich against his tongue, destruction and beauty all wrapped in one small red mouthful. He put the glass down. “I told you I wanted you gone in the morning.”
“You’re not the only one who’s stubborn, Astarion.”
“This is my house, in case you forgot.”
“And I apologize for invading your privacy in such a manner.” He clearly was not. “However, I do believe you and I have much to discuss.”
At the reminder of what transpired the previous night, Astarion shook his head. “You have your soulmate. I had mine and lost him. You are not him.”
Gale was quiet, calm in an unnerving manner. “But what if circumstances had changed?”
“You can’t change a soulmark.”
“No. But what if…” With a frustrated grunt, Gale reached up and began unbuttoning his shirt, just enough to reveal the skin over his heart.
“There’s no need to rub that we do not share a soulmark in my face, Doctor Dekarios,” Astarion replied in a clipped voice.
“Why can’t you just… agh!” Gale approached him and jabbed at his chest. “Here, here, and here.” Astarion could see small moles where he was pointing.
“I don’t understand.”
“They match the placement of your stars exactly!”
Astarion stared up at him, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. “In case you’ve forgotten, you have a soulmate. Go back to Myra, Gale. Go home and leave me be.”
“Myra’s not who she claimed to be,” Gale replied miserably, looking down at his forearm. “The truth came out while I was attempting to deduce why my magic was on your ring.”
Astarion remained silent.
“She revealed herself as Mystra.”
At that revelation, he couldn’t help but bark out a cruel laugh. “After all these years, the Goddess of Magic couldn’t let her little pet go, could she?”
“She manipulated my soulmark before I was even born. I swear, Astarion, I didn’t know. If I had, I would have waited for you. I would have waited forever for you.”
Astarion desperately wanted to believe him. “You love her, Gale. I could see it in your eyes during the mixer.” He took a deep, unnecessary breath and closed his eyes. “You used to look at me like that,” he said softly, voice quivering.
Gale stepped forward, closer to him. “Astarion. Please, look at me.” There was a gentle touch to his chin.
When Astarion finally gathered his courage to do as Gale requested, he was stunned. The wizard was looking at him like he was the only thing in the world, like he mattered. Like he loved him, once again.
He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Astarion’s. “I am deeply sorry for how much I’ve hurt you, and I swear I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
It felt too good to be true, like fate was dangling a treat in front of him, just out of reach. “Mystra will be unhappy.”
“Mystra can go hang. I’ll get the soulmark removed, I’ll get a tattoo to match yours… our soulmark. Just don’t push me away again. Let me stay.”
What could Astarion do but nod? With every touch against Gale’s body, his own skin was on fire, a burning that he never thought he would feel again.
“May I kiss you?”
Through a choked sob, Astarion managed to whisper, “yes.”
When Gale’s lips met his, Astarion felt something in him mending, healing the scar tissue of the heartbreak he carried for a thousand years.
It was magic.
It was rediscovering himself.