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It was a lovely spring day in Baldur’s Gate. One of the better ones in Astarion’s estimation. The blossoms were in full force as he traipsed down the cobblestone street towards his home in the upper part of the city. Well, perhaps not the Upper City, adjacent to the upper city. It was a beautiful home with its red shingled roof and open air courtyard, that he shared with his handsome husband, and their three wonderful children. The idyllic life that he was always meant to have and thanked, well not the Gods because they had nothing to do with it. But himself mostly and that tadpole that had brought him directly into the path of Gale of Waterdeep. Yes, tadpoles, himself, and Gale in that order. Or maybe Gale, tadpoles, and then himself.
It didn’t matter, he was successful and loved and his mother-in-law was off visiting family in another part of the Sword Coast.
Nothing was stopping him from enjoying the fruits of his labor.
He strode up to his front door, a projection of Gale greeted him. Astarion rolled his eyes. He understood that Gale was quite proud of himself when his magic slowly returned to him. Apparently, Mystra couldn’t keep her former Chosen down forever. But did he have to be so flippant about its uses?
“Ah, if you are seeing this then you are my lovely husband, Astarion Ancunin,” the eerie purple simulacrum of his husband began, “I am here on behalf of Gale Dekarios, devoted spouse, father, and professor. I am here to inform you that I have taken our youngest Jacov and our middle child, Nichola, out for the day.”
Astarion gestured for the projection to keep talking.
“Angela has decided to stay home with Saelin which is fine,” the projection seemed perturbed by this fact. “But as she is frequently incapable of passing on simple messages or answering the door, I am here to provide assistance. If you are Astarion please know that Gale loves you very much. If you are here to rob me of my possessions, know that I am a powerful wizard and my vampire husband will murder you in your sleep. Cheers,” and with that projection vanished.
Astarion sighed and rolled his eyes. He pushed through the front door with ease and called throughout the house for Angela. Then something peculiar caught Astarion’s senses. Something odd on the wind, a trace of some scent from a former life, notably involving Petras. Where was he now? He should check in with his siblings more.
“Angela?” Astarion called again. As he moved towards the back of the house, where an impressive set of double doors stood, he again smelled the offensive scent. He pushed open the doors to the family’s private courtyard. There were homes with grander courtyards to be sure. But to have a courtyard at all in this economy was a feat in and of itself, Astarion tried to remind himself. However, a hedge maze or oversized fountain wouldn’t go amiss either.
“Gratitude, Astarion,” he reminded himself from his talks with Esther, the family’s counselor. “Angela, darling?” he called out again.
Then there was the distinct sound of two teenage girls muttering curses underneath their breaths and frantically moving about. Astarion went over to the set of low couches at the far side of the covered patio.
“What’s all this then?” Astarion asked as the pungent smell of decaying herbs filled his lungs. He grimaced as he remembered exactly where he had last smelled this particular annoyance. He pursed his lips together and knitted his brows. A deep u-shape formed between them, as he looked from Angela to Saelin.
“Angela Dekarios-Ancunin and Saelin Sylvania Hallowleaf what in Sylvanus’ name is going on here?”
“Nothing Zaza-”
“Nothing, Uncle Star-”
“Indeed,” Astarion said tightly. He loathed being the strict parent. The role was much better suited to Gale with his desire for order and rule-following. Astarion was clearly meant to be the emotional support. But with Gale out with their younger two children it seemed that it was up to Astarion to be the disciplinarian.
“Well, well, well, it certainly doesn’t smell like nothing,” Astarion glowered at the two teens. Then Saelin coughed up a little smoke. “Aha!” Astarion shouted as he snatched the joint from his niece’s hand.
“Please don’t tell my mums!” Saelin begged.
“I am absolutely telling your mothers,” Astarion said, “Alright give me the rest you two.”
Angela sheepishly handed over an untouched piece of rolled paper, “I swear these are the only ones, Zaza.”
Astarion nodded, “Saelin I think you ought to head home-”
“I mean, I got it from my Mum so what are you-”
“You stole it from your Mum you mean,” Astarion pressed his hand to his forehead. Of course, Tav would think nothing of keeping moderately legal substances in their home. It’s of nature, Tav would probably argue, Sylvanus made weed as proof that he loves us.
Ugh, druids…
Saelin shuffled off but not before Astarion used a scroll of sending to explain what had happened as best he could in a dozen words or so.
“You aren’t going to tell Papa are you?” Angela asked.
“Of course, I’m telling your father-”
“But Zaza,” Angela whined, “It’s like Saelin said we got it from Auntie Tav so really she’s the one you ought to be mad at not us-”
“I can assure you beyond a shadow of a doubt that your Aunt did not give your cousin drugs-”
“But, please? He’s only just starting trusting me again after well,” Angela reached her hand behind her neck and awkwardly tugged at a loose hair in her bun. Astarion pursed his lips tightly together as his mind filled in what was left unsaid. The previous fall Angela had snuck out of the house in some sort of hormonal monsoon brought on by the harvest moon. Gale had brought her back to the house but not without a good tongue lashing. Slowly, she’d been rebuilding his trust. But this was the exact sort of thing that would cause Gale to spiral. A spiraling Gale did no one any good.
“I am going to tell him,” Astarion began, and Angela haunched her shoulders over defeated, “But not right away. I’ll find the best moment.” Angela sprang back up, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Astarion held up his hand to calm her, “In the meantime, you are to stay in your room until supper and be on your absolute best behavior.”
“Yes, Papa,” Angela squealed as she wrapped her hands around Astarion’s middle before dashing back into the house.
“And for gods’ sakes wash your hair you smell like your Uncle Petras!”
“My who?”
“Ugh, I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Astarion answered, and made a mental note to introduce his vampiric siblings to his children at some point.
Gale and their other children stumbled through the door. Gale was in a pleasant mood, which was a good sign. Apparently, their trip to Sorcerer's Sundries to visit Rolan and then to the bakery for sweets had been a rousing success. Morena, thankfully, was away visiting family in Waterdeep. Tara was out of the house as well, probably hunting or visiting that tabby she had struck a ‘friendship’ with. Gale began working on dinner as he animatedly proposed plans for the upcoming summer break in classes. Astarion nodded along to Gale’s desire to go back to Waterdeep for a few weeks to check on the tower. He proposed taking the children to the seaside for a few days to enjoy the beach, though decidedly not the one they washed up on at the start of their grand tadpole induced adventure. Then it was time for dinner. After which Angela, who thankfully had ceased smelling of foul herb, volunteered to do dishes. Gale, thankfully, did not question it. Soon enough everyone was in bed. The house was quiet.
“I think I’d like to go outside, enjoy the night air,” Astarion offered, casually.
“A wonderful idea, my sweet,” Gale said, gathering a few blankets from their living room to take outside their portico. The evening was cool without the damp that usually accompanied late spring nights in the gate. Astarion settled down onto one of the low cushioned couches and Gale joined him wrapping them both up in a blanket. For a moment, they were quiet. It was utter bliss to just hold and be held by another as they looked up at the expansive night sky before them. Gale was unusually quiet. On the rare occasion that they had an early evening to themselves, Gale would be lecturing him about the positions of the stars or snogging him senseless.
“It’s odd, isn’t it?”
Astarion turned his head to look down at Gale, who had firmly embedded himself in his lap.
“All the that needed to transpire, all the decisions we made, that led to this moment-”
“You mean bringing out the blankets? I had suggested purchasing some of a thicker wool that we could keep outdoors-”
Gale glared at him, “I meant the tadpoles and the crown of Karsus. That elder brain we fought a few years back. Ring a bell?”
Astarion’s lips pulled into a wry smile, Gale rolled his eyes which only encouraged him. “Of course, I know you meant… I think about it a lot as well, dearest.”
Astarion snuggled closer into Gale, pooling the blankets along his lower half. Then he was quiet again, resuming his absent staring. It made Astarion nervous. He ran his tongue along his fangs, unsure if he should check in on Gale or allow his mind to wander. The sounds of the city, carriages, horses, people coming and going, taverns filled with song, roared dully in the distance.
“I worry I’m doing it wrong.”
Thankfully, Gale could always be counted on to break a silence. But Astarion just furrowed his brow in response.
“Whatever do you mean, my dearest?”
“I mean,” Gale’s heavy sigh weighed against Astarion, as he felt the rise and fall of it from his lap, “being a good father, a good husband, a good man. It’s a lot more work than sacrificing oneself to save the world, carrying on as we do. The thousand daily decisions and wondering is allowing Jacov a few sugarfruits at breakfast going to turn him into some entitled beastling when gets older. That sort of thing.”
“Ah, well I think of all children Jacov and his passion for sugared fruits at inappropriate times is the least of our concerns,” Astarion chuckled.
“True enough.”
At this Angela’s little misadventure weighed just a bit heavier in Astarion’s pocket. “Angela on the other hand,” Astarion began.
“I know, I fear I did her the worst,” Gale moaned, “I just don’t connect with her in the way you do. You two are,” Gale made a gesture that Astarion assumed meant to express the closeness that he experiences with Angela, “and I’m just the wet blanket. The uncool father. The disciplinarian and I-”
“Actually,” Astarion gritted his teeth and Gale looked curiously up at him, “I did have to discipline her today. I caught her and Saelin with this.”
Astarion pulled out the small rolled paper from his pocket and passed it to Gale, who sniffed it and coughed.
“Oh my,” Gale laughed, “That smell brings back memories.”
“What?” Astarion was aghast and dramatically placed his hand over his heart. “Am I to believe that Gale Dekarios, former Chosen of Mystra, Professor of the Arcane arts, Baldur’s Gate’s biggest wet blanket was once a stoner? I shall alert the presses!”
“I wouldn’t say that I indulged every once in a while. It was a good stress reliever and I know this is hard to believe, I have what some clerics have called an anxious disposition.”
“You don’t say,” Astarion drolled, “Well, do you want to light this one up? Strictly for nostalgic purposes.”
Gale took it from Astarion’s fingers and placed it in his mouth. He clicked his fingers together to produce a small flame at his fingertip and lit the end, breathing in deeply. He passed it to Astarion, who was genuinely impressed at his husband’s ability to smoke.
“I’m not sure who I married anymore,” Astarion teased before taking his own drag. Suddenly, he was filled with a pleasant full body numbness. His mind began to relax, the edges of it graying and dulling. “I can see how this appealed to you.”
“Indeed, of course this is a less superior strain than what I was used to at the academy-”
“Don’t tell me you are some sort of herbal sommelier, Gale,” Astarion laughed, and soon they settled into a rhythm of breathing and passing the paper cigar. Gale entertained him with a few stories of his wilder days and it gave Astarion a fuller picture of his tightly wound husband. It was odd, he had known and loved Gale for so long that he hadn’t expected to learn more things about him. Yet, here they were discussing Gale’s formally impish ways. Soon enough it had burnt down to a nub. Gale put it out on the heel of his boot.
“On the one hand,” Astarion craned his neck to pay better attention to Gale. It was as though he had to use all his energy to listen to his husband. “We ought to discipline Angela for what she did. On the other, I don’t remember the last time I felt this relaxed.”
“Indeed, whatever shall we do, darling?” Astarion yawned and flexed his hand over the blanket that covered him and Gale. It was hard to steady his thoughts which kept coming in waves. Ideas such as, when did the blanket become so heavy? Had his fingers always been this long? If a goat got turned into a vampire would it need to drink humanoid blood or the blood of it’s fellow farm animals.
“Astarion!” Gale called.
“Sorry, I was a bit lost for a minute. Do you think we should get a goat-”
“For drinking or lawn care. Nevermind, you know I think we just need to have an honest conversation with Angela and then,” Gale gesticulated with his hands in a way that Astarion could not interpret.
“Yes,” Astarion nodded along.
“You have no idea what I’m saying do you? You’re as high as a kite-”
“Well, if I’m a kite you’re one of those wavy flaggy things in front of the circus or a used carriage sale-”
Gale snorted, “Then you’re a star-”
“If I’m a star, then you are my moon pulling me ever closer to you,” Astarion cupped Gale’s face in his hands.
“That’s not how moons work, I think. But you’re very pretty and I’m very tired. And Angela is mostly not in trouble.”
“And Angela is mostly not in trouble,” Astarion said, as he kissed Gale on the lips.