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They'd been in Waterdeep for months now. Eight of them, if you wanted to be particular about it. Eight months of living in Gale Dekarios' wizards tower. Although, he supposed it was his tower now, too.
His tower. That was a heady feeling. Uncomfortable, if he thought too closely about it. In two centuries he'd never had anything that was his. Other than that white shirt that he'd mended over and over again, sure that if he let it go, he'd be walking the streets for marks naked from the waist up. Or, more likely, flayed in the kennels while Godey laughed about his new shirt being made of his own skin, since he couldn't take care of anything he'd been given.
Astarion shook his head. That train of thought had certainly escalated. He didn't have time to reminisce. He was processing. His tower. The tower he shared with his wizard. And his wizard's tressym.
When Gale had invited Astarion to live with him after they'd defeated the Netherbrain Astarion had been sure it was an offer made in jest. Sure, they'd been spending most of their time on the road together. Sure, they'd been intimate (and then stopped when Astarion had admitted discomfort. Gale had been suspiciously okay with waiting on the sex part of their relationship). Sure they'd talked about their pasts, what they hoped for in their futures, what they might mean to each other. Sure, they had eventually declared their love for each other. But there was no way Gale meant it. Right?
Turned out, he had, in fact, meant it. He'd practically dragged Astarion back to Waterdeep with him. Done everything he could to make him feel welcome. Even giving him his own room, to ensure he knew that his home here was not dependent upon his sleeping with Gale. He'd given him free reign to decorate his room, as well as any room in the tower. He really wanted Astarion to make it his home.
And Astarion had. He'd painted his room, rearranged the furniture, bought a new rug that was more to his liking. When the room was perfect, he'd moved out and into Gale's. He hadn't done serious work in Gale's room — their room — but he'd bought new bedding, moved a chair in from the library that he'd grown particularly fond of, added more pillows.
And now it was approaching Midwinter. He'd seen decorations of all kinds pop up around Waterdeep and he wanted the tower to be merry as well. He'd gone shopping and picked up garlands of tinsel and evergreen trimmings, various sized ornaments made of glass, candles scented with cinnamon and vanilla, and anything else that looked festive. Under Cazador's thumb there had been no holiday celebrations. With his freedom, he was going to take back cheer.
Astarion reached into his bag of goodies and pulled out garlands. With a small hop, he stood atop the sideboard and began to hang the garland across the window. Then he placed a few of the ornaments among the branches. On the table itself, he set one of the candles. When it was lit, the fire would dance across the glass like fairies. He continued to flit around the room, arranging and rearranging as he went.
When he was done, he looked around the room with a discerning eye. It was perfect! The tower always had a warm and welcoming air, but now it was joyous as well. A testament to the season.
As he admired his work, the front door opened. Gale, returning from his last day of teaching classes at Blackstaff before the holiday break.
"My love! It looks wonderful in here! You've outdone yourself!"
"I have, haven't, I?" Astarion smiled and reached for Gale's hand. Gale put his bag and handful of books down and took Astarion's hand. With his other, he recited a quick cantrip and lit the candles throughout the room. As they watched the light flicker, Astarion felt himself grow warm with the knowledge that his tower, his home, was made more beautiful by his hand, and by the love that dwelt within it.