Archive of Our Own

Getting the basilisk oil had been the easy part. Traversing the Underdark had come with its challenges, but in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't all that difficult. Finding Gale had taken days of wandering around the mushroom forests and muggy fungal swamps, but eventually Astarion stood before the stone statue of his beloved. He studied the lines of his face, the set of his unseeing eyes, the way his hair fell in waves around his shoulders. His petrified beard needed a trim. His wizards robes were well-worn but well cared for. The staff he held was sleek and straight, with a diamond shape at the top that contained some kind of gem. All gray stone now.

Astarion strained to find some memory he had with the man. Some reason his chest felt tight and tears sprang to his eyes. Nothing came to mind. All he knew was that this was the love of his life, that he had an orb in his chest that was about to blow, and that he would do anything to save him.

It started when Astarion came home to the tower in Waterdeep, where he lived with his husband. Gale hadn't been doing well. The orb in his chest, a curse from a youthful mishap, was glowing more brightly than usual. Gale looked pale, with a sheen of cold sweat on his brow. Astarion had been out, enjoying the sunshine courtesy a magic ring Gale had given him. It was a rare find, and Astarion guarded it closely, because he wasn't sure his husband could ever find its like again. It was his wedding ring, a beautiful thing of gold set with a round sunstone.

When Astarion returned to the tower, it was quiet. Not so unusual. Gale spent a lot of his time in the library reading. Astarion ascended the stairs and called out, "Gale? You'll never believe who I saw at the market."

Silence.

"Gale?"

As Astarion drew closer to the library, he heard a faint wailing. It sounded like a cat in distress. Astarion knew that was no cat, however. He doubled his pace up the stairs. "Tara? What's the matter?"

He came to the library door and pushed it open. Tara, a tressym, not a cat, stood on Gale's favorite chair, howling at the top of her lungs. When Astarion came in, she switched to Common and cried, "He's gone, Saer Ancunín. Where, I do not know!"

Astarion noticed a folded piece of paper on the side table next to Gale's chair, and he snatched it up.

My beloved,

I have put this off for as long as I can, but I can put it off no longer. The orb's power grows stronger, as does its need. I'm afraid it will consume me and everything around me for miles, and I am putting the city of Waterdeep in danger by remaining. I know that you would go with me, and there is nothing I want more in my final hours than to see your beautiful face and feel your touch, but I can't bring myself to deprive the world of you. I'm not quite that selfish.

I leave everything in the tower to you, except for my favorite chair, which belongs to Tara. It is my hope that you will keep one another company, and that, perhaps, when you love again, she will accept your choice, and you may all live in harmony.

Know that I love you, and that I will be thinking of you in my final moments. Please don't try to find me. Let me do this one right thing.

Forever your love,
Gale

Astarion crumpled the note in his hand and spat, "What bullshit is this?"

Tara yowled again.

Astarion sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and he said, "I'm going after him."

Tara replied, "He said not to."

Astarion said, "Since when have I been the obedient little house husband? He doesn't get to decide when I'm done loving him. You're in charge of the tower until I return."

Tara looked doubtful, but there was a trace of hope in her glimmering yellow eyes. "Godspeed, Saer Ancunín. Bring him home."

Astarion waved a hand, "The gods have nothing to do with this."

If only he'd known how wrong he was.

Astarion knew too well that the search for a cure to the orb had come up dry. No one in Waterdeep knew anything about how to fix it. Useless. Wizards were useless! Oh, they had theories, but no one knew for certain what would work. So Astarion left Waterdeep. He sailed south to Baldur's Gate.

While in Baldur's Gate, he stayed with Archduke Wyll Ravengard, his old friend from his adventuring days. They reminisced over wine into the night, and when the topic turned to Astarion's reason for being in Baldur's Gate, Astarion told him everything about Gale's condition, the note, and how no one in Waterdeep had any idea how to cure him.

"Do you remember Elminster?" Wyll had asked.

"How could I forget?" Astarion said. "He told my husband to blow himself up."

"On behalf of a goddess," Wyll reminded.

"Mystra," Astarion said bitterly.

"Be that as it may," Wyll said, "He's the most powerful wizard there is. If anyone knows what to do, it will be him."

"Where can I find him?" Astarion asked.

Wyll said, "They say he lives in Shadowdale, in The Dalelands."

Astarion stared at his wineglass and murmured, "Then that's where I shall go."

The trip to The Dalelands took months, and Astarion was impatient about every single day he wasn't with his husband. Gale calmed him, and now Gale wasn't here, and he felt like he was the one who was going to explode.

From Baldur's Gate, he followed the Chionthar through Elturel and on to Scornubel, traversing the lands where he met Gale. Where he and their friends had defeated a netherbrain and saved the world. And this was their thanks. The gods didn't even see fit to cure Gale's condition. He followed the river north, all the way to its source in the Sunset Mountains. It was strange to see the mighty river as little more than a stream he could step across (thanks to the ring, which allowed him to cross running water). Through the mountains, he caught the road east from The Storm Horns to Shadowdale. He traveled alone most of the way, but he would hitch a ride on a cart when one rolled by.

It was a miserable trip. Maybe, if he had been with Gale, there would have been fun parts, but it was a lonely, terrible slog. It rained some days, and on other days the sun beat down on him leaving him hot and sweaty. Any inn with a bath was a blessing. He subsisted on rabbits and squirrels, and the occasional boar. The nights were cold out on the road, and more than a few times, he had to draw his daggers against goblins, orcs, and thieves. They were no match for him, but it was still irritating.

When he finally stood before Elminster's tower, his shirt was torn, his boots were falling apart, and his silver hair was in desperate need of a trim, and the wild curls were plastered to his face by sweat. But he was there, finally, and he pounded on the door.

There was no answer at first, so Astarion waited. For two days he slept on the doorstep only to awaken and pound on the door again. All day he did this, until finally the door opened, seemingly of its own accord, and he stepped inside.

It was dark in the foyer, lit only by a single lamp. It was also blessedly cooler than outside. "Elminster!" Astarion called. "I need to speak with you!"

A voice came from above, where a spiraling staircase stood. "Clearly," it said. "Come. You have already disturbed my peace. I would hear what is so important that a man cannot enjoy the sanctity of his own home without your incessant pounding."

Astarion crept up the staircase. "I come on behalf of Gale of Waterdeep."

"Ah, my old friend," said the voice. "How fares Gale of Waterdeep these days?"

Astarion kept climbing until the stairs let him off on a landing, and from there, an open door led into what looked like a study. It had shelves overflowing with books and trinkets, a desk overflowing with the same. There was a pair of cushy chairs, old and patched up with blankets tossed over the back. It was all very homey. Sitting at the desk was the old bastard looking just as Astarion remembered him, dressed in red, his long gray hair flowing down his back, his ridiculous long beard flowing down his front. Astarion looked into those piercing blue eyes and said, "He's dying. If he's not already dead. Since I haven't heard of any huge explosions, I will take that as a sign he still lives."

Elminster looked away, and Astarion thought he saw sadness in the ancient wizard's countenance. "That is unfortunate," he said. "That youhtful folly should lead to a young death."

"It doesn't have to," Astarion said. "I refuse to believe it. But the wizards in Waterdeep are useless. No one knows anything, but I bet you do. I know you know how to cure him. And you're going to tell me."

Elminster arched a brow, "Or what, pray tell? Will you gut me with your daggers, Astarion Ancunín? Slayer of netherbrains? Will you rough me up, as they say?"

Astarion faltered, but then he lifted his chin and said, "If I have to." He hated the way his voice trembled.

The wizard held up an gnarled hand and said, "Stay your blades. I have no wish to thwart you, and given what Gale has done to save our world and worlds beyond, I do believe that he is owed a greater reward than what he has received, which is to say nothing. Though divine providence is no business of mine, Gale is a friend, and I think the world would be the lesser without him. To that end, I will tell you what I know."

"Divine providence has nothing to do with it," Astarion spat.

The old man gazed at Astarion in a way that made him shift his weight from foot to foot. It was as if Elminster could see through him, to the core of him, and he knew everything there was to know about Astarion. From a glance. His hopes, his fears, his weaknesses. Almost kindly, the wizard said, "It has more to do with this than you would wish, young rogue. Hear me before you speak."

Astarion stood. Waiting.

Elminster took a sip of the tea that had gone cold beside him and said, "There is an amulet Mystra possesses that will cure your beloved. It is of silver, set with starstones, hung from a silver chain around her neck."

Astarion scowled. "Shit," he said. "Shit! I can't barter with a goddess."

Elminster said, "Oh ho, she will not give it to you. And I doubt you have anything she wants in exchange."

Astarion run his hand through his hair. "What in blazes am I to do?"

Elminster shrugged a thin shoulder and said, "That is not for me to divulge, for I do not know." He reached into one of the desk drawers and pulled out a black velvet bag with a drawstring. This he offered to Astarion, and he said, "However, if you do manage to acquire the amulet, I will give you this, as a gift to Gale, to whom much is owed."

Astarion took the bag. It buzzed with magic in his fingertips. "A bag. How thoughtful."

Elminster said, "It is no mere bag, young Ancunín. It will conceal from sight anything that is placed within it. Even divine sight. Place the amulet within, and not even Mystra will be able to find it."

Astarion considered the bag anew. "All right," he said. Then, awkwardly, "Thank you." He would never get used to saying those words.

Elminster waved a hand as he said, "Thank me when he is hale and whole. You still have to discern how you will get close enough to Mystra to take what's hers."

Astarion considered the old man. "You know, don't you."

Elminster hesitated. Astarion could see him weighing a thousand possibilities behind those eyes. Finally, the wizard said, "I will tell you this much: Mystra's enemy is Shar. It is common knowledge. I am not betraying my lady by telling you what many know to be true. I will warn you, any dealings with Shar will cost you dearly. She will take everything and leave nothing. You are better off trying to find some other way."

"There is no other way," Astarion said. "If there were, you would've told me."

Elminster merely inclined his head, neither confirming nor denying. "In any case, our business is concluded. Leave me in peace, young Ancunín. I shall not grant you a second audience."

Thus dismissed, Astarion shoved the bag in his pocket and headed back down the stairs.

Astarion made his way back the way he had come. He followed the Chionthar west, toward Baldur's Gate but not quite there. He stopped in Reithwin. The land looked foreign to him with the shadow curse lifted. The trees were lush and plentiful, the wildflowers grew in abundance. Everywhere there was life, and people had returned to the village. Astarion saw where parts had been rebuilt. He made his way to the Last Light Inn to inquire after Halsin and was told he lived in a cottage on the edge of town.

Astarion found the cottage, and he could tell it was Halsin's as he approached. The plant life was particularly green and plentiful. There was a pond in front of the house where ducks paddled. A deer grazed unafraid on a rosebush beside the gate. It didn't even shy from Astarion as he walked up the stone walkway and knocked on the door.

The massive wood elf answered the door and, before Astarion could stop him, he swept the vampire spawn into a firm embrace. "My old friend! What brings you to my humble abode."

Within the cottage, Astarion could hear many children squabbling and playing, and he decided to remain on the porch. "I... I came to say hello," he said. "I was going to ask if I could stay the night but you've got a full house, and the Last Light is just down the road."

"The loft is free," Halsin said. "You're welcome to stay if you want."

Astarion glanced past Halsin at the children, and he said, "I don't know how to put this politely, but I am sure every surface in that house is sticky. I'll stay at the inn."

Halsin said, "At least let me come with you. We can have a drink and talk about old times."

And so they both made their way to the Last Light Inn. There, Astarion rented a room for the night, and he ordered a bottle of wine for the table he shared with Halsin. They drank to one another, to old times and to new. To Reithwin, to Baldur's Gate. Before long, they needed a second bottle of wine.

Astarion could hold his liquor, though. At least when it came straight from the bottle. Drinking from someone drunk was another story. "So tell me," he said to Halsin, "Where do you think my Gale has gone?"

Halsin, who was at least tipsy, said, "He'll have gone where there are no people."

Astarion said, "Nonsense, there are people everywhere."

Halsin thought for a moment, then he said, "The Underdark has huge swaths of unoccupied space."

Astarion tapped his upper lip with a fingertip. "A dark, creepy, dangerous place I would dread to follow. That sounds like him."

Halsin said, "The Underdark is a big place. Do you know how to find him?"

Astarion sighed. "I should have asked the wizard."

Halsin gave Astarion's arm a squeeze with his huge, warm hand. "No need. Give me a moment, and I will be able to tell you."

Astarion regarded Halsin with a curious tilt of his head. "You can find him?"

Halsin nodded and said, "If he is on this plane of existence, I will know where he is."

Astarion said, "Don't tell me, we have to go to your house."

Halsin rose from the table and said, "Let us, before it gets too late and I have to put the children to bed."

Astarion groaned as he got to his feet. He was going to end up sticky. Children were always sticky.

Sure enough, when they got to Halsin's house, the children swarmed him, curious about the stranger. They tugged at his hair, pulled at his clothes. He felt more than a few hands dipping into pockets, and he batted them away. "Control your brood," he told Halsin.

Halsin said, "They're just excited to make a new friend." He then said, "Children, give your Uncle Astarion a little space. He's had a long day."

The children backed off somewhat. At least they weren't actively climbing him any longer. "How did you get so many children anyway. There must be a dozen here."

"Thirteen if you count Oliver and Thaniel as two instead of one," Halsin said with pride. "Children of the war, mostly, who needed a place to stay. They call me Daddy Halsin."

Astarion shook his head. "I will never understand wanting this life."

Halsin said, "Never say never. You may yet crave the pitter patter of little feet in your tower."

Astarion grimaced and said, "Let's just focus on getting my husband back first."

Halsin sat at the dining room table, and he produced a bag of what looked like finger bones. They had runes etched upon them, inlaid in silver. Astarion avoided touching them. The sun ring did a lot of amazing things, but it didn't make him immune to silver. He flinched when Halsin produced an expensive-looking silver mirror and laid it on the table. "Sorry, my friend," he said at Astarion's visible discomfort. "The tools of the trade, I'm afraid."

Astarion said, "Don't worry about it. Just get on with it." He paused, then added, "Please." Another word he'd never get used to saying.

The druid murmured a prayer to the Oak Father and cast the bones onto the mirror. Astarion once again felt the buzz of magic, but he couldn't tell what Halsin was seeing. It all looked like bones on a mirror to him.

When the magic faded, Astarion asked, "Well? Where is he?"

Halsin frowned and said, "I'm sorry to tell you, my friend, he is in the Underdark, but he has ran afoul of a spectator."

Astarion felt his stomach drop. "Is he dead?"

Halsin shook his head. "Petrified. He's not far from the myconid colony of our travels. I surmise he was looking for a remote location when he was caught in the monster's gaze."

Astarion said, "But he lives. With the application of basilisk oil, he would be restored."

Halsin said, "Just so."

Astarion relaxed with a long sigh. "Well. That much I can manage."

Halsin said, "There is still the matter of the orb to consider."

Astarion nodded. "Yes, and I know what I'm going to do."

Halsin asked, "What is that?"

Astarion said, "I'm going to go see a goddess about a grudge."

Astarion ended up sleeping in the loft, despite the many children in the house. He retired early, but he could hear them downstairs, chattering and being noisy. And then the chorus of 'read us a story, Daddy Halsin' followed by Halsin's dulcet tones as he did just that. Finally the house was quiet and Astarion got some sleep. He slipped out before anyone else was awake. He didn't want to be waylaid. Halsin didn't want him to do what he was about to do, and it was easier this way.

The Thorm mausoleum stood much as it had before, untouched. Astarion made it past all the traps that had long ago been dismantled, the puzzles that had been solved. He knew right where he was going.

To the Shadowfell.

It was the only place he knew to find Shar, in her own realm. And Shar was the only way he knew to get to Mystra.

It was a dreadful place, the Shadowfell. His feet seemed to barely touch the ground. He was practically floating. He braved the vicious spirits of dead Dark Justiciars, dispatching them and leaving in his wake piles of bones. He wasn't even sure where to find her, so he wandered until he found what looked like a ruined temple. It was as good a place as any, he figured, to call upon the dark goddess.

Within the temple, the cracked floor had a mosaic of Shar, beautiful and cold, black as night. At the far end of the temple was an altar. As Astarion approached it, he grit is teeth. Avernus would freeze over before he would pray to a god or goddess. So he stood before the altar, gazed at the statue of Shar behind it, and called out, "Shar! I have come to barter!"

There was a dish before the statue, and the bottom was stained rust red. When no answer came, he muttered and used a dagger to slice his hand. He bled into the dish, and the statue seemed to be watching him. Wrapping his hand in a bandage, he said again, "I've come to barter."

A voice came from all around him, shook through him.

Speak.

Astarion trembled, but he wasn't going to give these divine sons of bitches the satisfaction of cowering. Lifting his chin, he said, "I mean to steal an amulet from Mystra, your enemy. It's sure to infuriate her, and you seem petty enough to enjoy such a thing, so I need your help getting to her."

You found me well enough. Why not go to her yourself?

"Because," Astarion said, "I know a way into the Shadowfell. I don't know how to get to her realm. But I bet you do."

Pray tell, what do you have to offer me in exchange for such a thing?

Astarion frowned. This was the part he wasn't looking forward to. "What do you want?"

The presence remained, though silent for awhile. The goddess must have been thinking.

Give me the memories of your love. Then I will take you to Mystra's realm.

Astarion closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. He knew dealing with the lady of loss was going to cost him. He thought he was prepared for this. He swallowed the lump rising in his throat, and he said, "I still need to remember who he is and what my quest is to save him."

I will accept those terms.

"You can't take from me the urgency of my mission," Astarion clarified. "I still need to know how important it is."

Acceptable.

"Very well. I agree."

The world started to swirl around Astarion. He was being transported, and he wasn't sure why. He only knew that it was important.

Mystra's realm was different from the Shadowfell. Astarion's feet felt like they were on solid ground, but only just. He was actually walking in what seemed to be an inch or so of water. While he should be getting annoyed at his boots getting wet, instead he felt peaceful. It was relaxing to be here, something that made him paranoid.

"So let me get this straight," he muttered to himself. "I have to steal an amulet from a goddess to cure someone I don't know of a deadly sickness because he is the love of my life?"

It made no sense. This 'Gale of Waterdeep' was no one to him, and yet the thought of him filled Astarion with a sense of urgency. He had to save this man. That's all he knew about him. And to save him, he needed to steal the goddess' amulet.

It's a good thing he was one of the greatest thieves of all time. Even so, this was a tall order.

As he crept into Mystra's palace, he grimaced as he realized he had become just like a hero in one of Wyll's stupid story books. Gods, the Archduke would never let him live this down.

He sneaked, he waited, he spied. To his delight, he realized that the goddess did sleep. Though who could tell day from night in this place? But he bided his time, and when she went to her bedchamber, he swallowed a potion of invisibility and slipped in behind her.

The power radiating from the goddess made Astarion's blood curdle. If he got caught, this would be the end. She would crush him without mercy. So he would have to not get caught. He hid behind a column. This palace was rotten with columns. And he waited until she took to her slumber.

He approached, and he saw the amulet upon her breast, silver with starstones. He slipped on a pair of thin leather gloves, and he tried not to think about how Gale used to sleep with this woman. This manifestation of magic. He hesitated. Then he asked himself What would Drizzt do?

He carefully lifted the amulet from her breast, tugged the chain free, and ran like the hounds of Avernus were snapping at his heels. He kept running until the palace was a distant thing and he splashed through the water of the Celestial Plane in a panic. He ran until he was breathless, which was a new thing for him considering he didn't breathe.

Then, when he realized he had gotten away with it, he shoved the amulet into the pouch Elminster had given him. Then he looked around. Shit. How was he going to get off the Celestial Plane, back to Toril?

"Shar," he hissed, and he told himself this was not a prayer. "I need you to get me out of here!"

That was not part of the deal.

Astarion's unbeating heart stuttered with dread. "What do you mean it wasn't part of the deal? I need to get back to Toril. I need to find Gale."

Give me your wedding ring.

Astarion glanced at his ring. The gold band set with a round sunstone. The ring that allowed him to cross running water. The ring that allowed him to walk in the sun. The only thing he had left of this lover of his he would defy Mystra to save. And he knew, in that moment, that the lady of loss would take everything she could. She would strip him bare and leave him with nothing but his weariness and his grief.

Did he love this 'Gale of Waterdeep' enough to give up the sun?

On faith, a thing Astarion had in short supply, he believed that he did. He slid the ring from his finger and held it up. "Take it."

The ring winked out of existence in his hand, and he found himself back in the temple of Shar below the mausoleum outside Reithwin.

Traveling the length of the Chionthar was a whole new brand of bullshit without his ring, but Astarion managed. He didn't have to cross it at any point, thankfully. He just had to walk along its length, grimacing at every bubbling sound of water churning through the riverbed. He had to travel at night, and that was terrible. He was reminded of his days in Cazador's clutches. Longing for the sunrise, unable to watch it. Once more a creature creeping in the night, he made his way to the abandoned Selunite temple where he and his friends had cleared out all the goblins living there.

Unfortunately, other things had taken up residence. Astarion fought his way through giant spiders and druergar to get to the entrance to the Underdark deep below the temple.

But get there he did. Bloodied, bruised. He made his way to the myconid colony, which required getting past a minotaur that, in the end, was sorry it had crossed him, and then it was dead. Astarion wasn't going to let anything stop him at this point.

Finally, he found what looked like a little mushroom garden with garden statues everywhere, except the statues looked like they had been carved in a state of fear, and they were all perfect replicas of people. The spectator's work, Astarion suspected. Ah, well. They were not his concern. He was here for one statue in particular.

Getting the basilisk oil had been the easy part. Traversing the Underdark had come with its challenges, but in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't all that difficult. Finding Gale had taken days of wandering around the mushroom forests and muggy fungal swamps, but eventually Astarion stood before the stone statue of his beloved. He studied the lines of his face, the set of his unseeing eyes, the way his hair fell in waves around his shoulders. His petrified beard needed a trim. His wizards robes were well-worn but well cared for. The staff he held was sleek and straight, with a diamond shape at the top that contained some kind of gem. All gray stone now.

Astarion strained to find some memory he had with the man. Some reason his chest felt tight and tears sprang to his eyes. Nothing came to mind. All he knew was that this was the love of his life, that he had an orb in his chest that was about to blow, and that he would do anything to save him.

"You had better be worth it," Astarion muttered as he drew the amulet from its bag and placed it around Gale's neck. Then he uncorked the basilisk oil and drizzled it over the stone wizard.

Slowly, the stone transformed into living flesh, and when the transformation was complete, Gale sagged and Astarion lunged forward to catch him. "Easy," he said as he lowered the wizard to the ground and knelt beside him.

"Astarion," Gale rasped. "I told you not to come."

Astarion said, "That doesn't sound like an order I would obey."

Gale said, "Clearly. But we have to go. The orb."

Astarion glanced at the amulet. It was glimmering with pale light that was increasing in intensity. "Give it a moment."

Gale arched his back and cried out as the orb lurched in his chest and lashed out to consume the amulet's magic. Karsite Weave fought with Mystra's Weave in a battle for dominance. Astarion held Gale throughout the struggle as he yelped in pain and trembled. Astarion had no idea who he was, but those cries of anguish gutted him all the same.

Eventually the glimmering blue glow outshone the purple orb, and it absorbed the energy into itself. Gale sagged in Astarion's arms. He didn't even have the mark of the orb on his chest anymore. Astarion was quick to remove the amulet and stuff it back into the bag Elminster had given him. "All right," he said, "Now we have to go before Mystra comes. I might have made her very mad."

Gale squinted at Astarion. "Mystra?" Then he frowned. "What happened to your wedding ring?"

"It's a long story. Let's go home."

They curled up together in the library in the tower in Waterdeep. Tara lay curled up on Gale's lap, and Gale had an arm around Astarion, who rested his head on the wizard's shoulder.

"And so," Gale said, "you gave up your memories of us and your sunstone ring for me?"

Astarion nodded. "I don't know why, but I know you were worth it."

Gale kissed Astarion, a tender press of lips to lips. "Then let me spend the rest of my life reminding you."