Chapter Text
The rain was relentless, a constant drum against the window glass as Gale carefully packed up his desk at the end of the day. Time had weathered his hands, the freckles growing darker and the skin rougher at the knuckles, but he remained dexterous as ever.
A sea of silver had chased almost every thread of chestnut brown from his hair and beard, painting him in the palette of a man ageing exquisitely into his vintage years. Still so handsome, perfectly fit and healthy, but just starting to feel the weight of the world creep up on him. The creased corners of his eyes, the laughter lines around his mouth. All were love letters from a life well lived, with many more years yet to come.
He pulled his cloak around his broad frame to bear the elements, shouldering his bag beneath the thick oiled fabric to keep his papers dry. In his turn about the library that very afternoon he had found a rather fascinating article on the use of timmask spores for aiding in aggression therapy. He knew someone who would find this fascinating.
He smiled as he passed the still rather new abjuration professor, shutting the door to her own classroom at the end of the corridor. She was a sweet young woman, round faced with a bright smile curtained by pretty dark curls. She always had a kind word on her lips, and her exuberance and delight in talking about all things magic reminded Gale acutely of his younger self.
“Enjoy your weekend, Professor Dekarios!” she chirped happily. Gale chuckled, turning back to address her. He knew he shouldn’t tarry but she was a rare delight.
“You as well, Professor Amberforth. Any plans?”
“My wife and I are taking a trip to visit old friends in Neverwinter.” She skipped a step to catch up with him, and he fell into step alongside her.
“Ooh, that will be an interesting journey at this time of year. You make sure you go careful, Naia.”
“Oh we will. Though my wife is a ranger, I’m sure she won’t let anything happen…”
They chatted easily as they wound their way through the twisting halls of Blackstaff Academy. Of journeys and reunions, of memories and old friends.
Their paths diverged at the foot of the tower, and they bid their farewells.
“Oh- Gale, one thing I meant to ask you.” Professor Amberforth turned on her heel, a flash of sudden recollection in her eyes.
“Oh?” Gale paused, adjusting the bag upon his shoulder.
“Miss Thornyvine, the maid in the girls’ dormitories, said that you may have spoken to Professor Wildfel of late.”
Gale’s smile softened, the creases of his eyes deepened.
“Yes, I see him often.”
“We all miss him, since his retirement. He was so kind to me when I first accepted my post here... How is he? I know he was unwell.”
The soft smile on Gale’s lips dared to falter, just for a moment. Something whispered heartache in his eyes.
“He’s… alright.” It was all he could bring himself to say. “I’ll be sure pass on your good wishes”
“Thank you, Gale.” Naia smiled sweetly, a flash of teeth and bright brown eyes. “Enjoy your weekend!”
“You too, Professor.”
***
Gale was soaked to the bone when he pushed in through the door of his own tower. He shrugged of his heavy cloak to hang beside the door. No doubt Tara would have given him an earful for drowning the parlour rug, were she still here to see the mess.
He missed her.
“I’m home. And I have something for you.”
The wet and cold was murder on his knees. Ever since passing fifty any low temperatures left him with an immovable bone-deep ache that even a good long soak in the bath couldn’t shift. His penance, he supposed for a misspent youth chasing the approval of aloof goddesses and scavenging for ill-advised artefacts in dark and dangerous places.
“Have you eaten? Did Arabella bring you your soup?”
Still no reply. It was highly likely that Dreuer was asleep. The tiefling’s sickness was a heavy weight to bear, one that took an immeasurable toll.
Long ago, when their love was new and the days were easy, Gale had never thought too much about what the passage of time may bring for them. While his own netherese malady had been cured and cast aside by Mystra, Dreuer’s own old wounds had remained carved into his body, an immutable fact of his continued existence. He was older than Gale, though that had never been any cause for concern. Not until the ravages of his own self-destructive habits became so resolutely manifest. In his twilight years Dreuer’s heart was weak, and his lungs rattled with every breath as decades of pipe smoking clawed at his airways.
Gale ascended the stairs, smiling as he caught sight of the back of the head man he loved. He was awake after all, sat in his favourite chair beside the fire.
“Dreuer? Did you hear me?”
“Hmm?”
Dreuer turned to look at Gale. He had stopped wearing Volo’s eye in favour of a simple one-sided bandage. It seemed arbitrary to continue to maintain the thing when he never left the tower. His remaining hazel eye had yellowed with age and illness, set deep into a well lined, darkly spotted face. His beard and hair once black were now a snowy white. He had grown thin as he had fought against the damage to his body, and day by day exhaustion stripped him of another part of himself.
Losing Dreuer was an inevitability, but Gale had hoped they might steal a few more years than this. Twenty three years did not feel enough.
“Sorry… my love.” The old tiefling wheezed. Every word took all of him, and his fingers trembled as he reached out for Gale. Gale took his hand unquestioningly. Their fingers closed around each other, the bond unbreakable.
“No need to be sorry. Have you eaten?” He repeated his previous unheard enquiry, reaching to brush the hair from his husband’s face. Age could not take away Dreuer’s beauty, not to Gale. There was no one in the world who could compare.
“Arabella brought… hmh. Soup.” He grunted, his chest heaving to draw in heavy lungfuls of air that crackled as if pulled through molten rock. Every syllable was laborious.
“And did you eat it?” Gale arched a brow.
Dreuer frowned. He leaned incrementally closer, frown deepening.
“What?”
“Did you eat it. The soup.”
“Oh… yes, yes… spiced… hmh… pumpkin.”
Gale smiled, continuing to pull his fingers fondly through Dreuer’s hair just a moment longer, affording himself the comfort of his touch as long as he dared before drawing reluctantly away. He had duties to attend, no matter how much he wanted to spend every second beside his husband.
“Good. Are you hungry again?”
“Hmmmh.”
“Alright.”
Gale moved to busy himself in the kitchen, cutting vegetables and preparing fish to steam for them to share. Dinner was still the same, though Dreuer was markedly less verbose and significantly less flirtatious than he would have been in days gone by. Gale smiled at the memory of countless evenings spent bathed in low, comfortable laughter, Dreuer’s arms so often looped around his waist as he cut carrots or peeled potatoes. He remembered the sweet nothings Dreuer would murmur against his skin, the butterfly-light kisses he would leave in his wake, the brush of his fingers against his arm or waist when he would finally slip away to prepare the table or pour the wine.
“Gale…? Wh-… what are you… smiling about…”
He should have known Dreuer would be watching. Even with one eye and a slowly blooming cataract, he would be watching. He was an incorrigible creature.
“You, of course.” Gale chuckled. “I was just thinking about how we used to cook together. I so dearly loved those evenings.”
“My apologies.” Dreuer grunted. “I am… much worse co-… company now.”
“Oh don’t you dare apologise. You’re still the best part of my day.”
“Very funny.”
“Dreuer you know I’m not joking.” Gale smiled as he brought the tiefling his food, cut up already and easy to eat. Gale sat with him, supporting his arms to relieve him of the weight.
He had tried feeding Dreuer himself but all that had achieved was putting the old man in a foul mood. Where Dreuer could retain his independence, he wanted to, as best he could. It was Gale’s privilege to help him, and every small act of defiance was still so precious to see.
It always took a long time for Dreuer to eat. He would tire easily, and his cough would rise and burn at his chest and throat. Gale pressed a clean towel to his mouth every time it was needed, catching the blood that crackled in his throat and pooled on his lips.
By the time Gale ate, his own dinner was cold. It didn’t matter to him, so long as Dreuer was fed and well… or as well as he could be, then he would be content. As he ate, Dreuer slowly talked about the book Arabella had read to him while she was here, and how he had enjoyed listening to the evening birdsong over the water. The little joys were still there, still bringing beauty and wonder into the old man’s life even as his days grew short.
Gale opened the balcony doors to let in the fresh air and scent of the falling rain, cleaning the dishes as Dreuer drifted in and out of consciousness. Dinner and their brief conversation had been enough to exhaust him. The tiefling spent so much of his time recovering from even the most minor of activities, he was so far removed from the capable, powerful warlock that had once carved his way through legions of absolutists that many would not believe him to be the same man. A man that had fought Bhaalspawn and Banites, devils and Netherbrains, now so very frail and faded.
To Gale, he looked exactly the same. This sickness was not enough to strip him of the man he loved. The figure in the chair would always be the handsome, astute, brave tiefling he had fallen in love with, and neither time nor trouble could change that.
“I found an article for you. I don’t think you’ve read this one... The Archmage Ungulus Rootflunk has written a fascinating piece on timmask spores…”
“Hmmh… would you r-… read it to me… Gale…?”
“The pleasure’s all mine, my love.”
Gale gave a soft ‘oof’ as he sat by Dreuer’s feet, his knees creaking in complaint as he lowered to the floor. He shifted his weight, finding somewhere comfortable to sit, and his back made a sound like a door being slammed.
“Gale… you sound… fucking awful.” Dreuer gasped.
“Oh come now you’re hardly in a position to judge, don’t you think?” Gale teased, leaning his head back against the tiefling’s bony knees. He felt Dreuer silent wheezy chuckle
Clawed fingers threaded into his hair. Even now it made his heart skip a beat to feel his husband’s touch.
“Hmmmh… Read… please.”
***
The evening pulled easily into night, and in one another’s company Gale could often imagine that no time had passed at all between them. They had spent so many of their nights sequestered together here in the library, pouring over every possible genre of text and tome they could get their hands on. Sometimes Gale would read, sometimes Dreuer. Sometimes they would fall asleep together, only to jolt awake in the dark hours and creep conspiratorially to bed as if they were teenagers sneaking around. Those nights were Gale’s favourites. Reading to Dreuer had not lost its charm.
The tiefling was just about able to stand, but could no longer walk without significant aid. With a swiftly executed cantrip Gale conjured a mage hand to help bear the old man’s weight. There wasn’t much to him these days, his muscles had wasted and withered. The mage hand was probably unnecessary, but Gale was loath to admit how far things had declined.
In the bathroom Gale helped his husband to undress, wash and ready himself for bed. Beneath his day robes Dreuer’s body was increasingly frail, his ribs pressed against his thin skin that seemed to bruise at the touch of a feather. His bones shifted and creaked like the boards of an old ship, each breath a battle with the constricting malignancy snarling away in the centre of his chest that pulled down like an anchor with too short a chain, set to inevitably drown him.
Decades of smoking had poisoned Dreuer, filling his veins and airways with thick tar that slowly strangled him. Somewhere among the soft sponge of his lung, something cancerous had grown among the sludge. As it had kept growing, Dreuer’s sickness worsened.
Every day it was a little harder to breathe. Another step closer to the inevitable end.
Gale knew their days were shortly numbered. He himself was so very tired, the sleepless nights watching over the tiefling taking their toll. He was no young man himself, after all, and continuous nights spent dozing in an armchair cautiously listening out for the rasping breaths of his lover saw him exhausted. It took almost everything to keep Dreuer comfortable, to care for him faithfully and with the tenderness and devotion he deserved. Gale knew that no matter how it drained him, he wouldn’t ever stop. He wouldn’t dare pass this duty to the hands of another. In sickness and in health, he had promised, and he would honour that promise
Dreuer’s wobbling feet carried him to the doorframe, and then steadily to the bed. Gale smiled as he watched him, even now still fiercely grasping for independence.
“Do you need anything my love?”
“Hmh?”
“I said do you need anything?”
The tip of the tiefling’s tail twitched, a rare moment of motion where it so often lay dormant these days, dragging in Dreuer’s wake like the hem of a shroud.
He took his time to sit, his gnarled fingers tentative as he pulled his tired limbs beneath the sheets and rested back against the small mountain of pillows that kept him from choking in the night. His hooded eye looked across at Gale and he smiled.
“I have all I need.” He said quietly. Gale felt his heart skip, the softness of the tiefling’s words and the gentleness of his smile kept him going. He pressed a hand to the old man’s cheek, trailing his thumb over paper thin skin.
“I love you.” He spoke as if it were a prayer. A sacred vow. A purr rumbled in Dreuer’s throat.
“I love you too.”
Gale lifted Dreuer’s hand to his lips. “Sleep, my love. I’ll be back.”
Dreuer closed his eye, sinking against his supportive bed. Gale washed the old man’s clothes, changed the blankets beside his chair, found him a small stack of books with a large enough print to satisfy his waning vision. He brewed medicines for the congestion and the pain, and wrote letters to friends and relations to keep them informed of the old man’s state.
The hour was late when he finally washed himself and settled into the armchair he had placed beside the bed. He dare not sleep beside him any more, lest he inadvertently cause the fragile thing any further pain. Dreuer’s breaths were slow and shaky, but they were steady and calm. They mirrored the rain, the bluster of the autumnal wind as it scattered raindrops against the windows.
Gale let sleep steal him away. It would not be long before he would be needed again.