Chapter Text
"The Great West", as the others had called it, had turned out to be a steaming pile of horse shit.
Literally, it would seem.
He curses under his breath as his trusty steed drops an absolutely rank load onto the ground directly beside their only barely established camp. The air is still and humid today, and the smell carries like a damned scourge in the damp.
"Cooper. Christ almighty." He eyes the horse with a smidgen of disdain. Bloody horse would probably wander into a cactus patch without blinking an eye. Stupid bastard.
Cooper, for his part, seems remarkably unbothered by the smell. But Astarion's never gotten used to the rank smell of animal shit and muck. So he grabs the horse's lead and starts to wander. A little further, hopefully upwind until the mess solidifies into something that won't threaten to burn the hairs out of his nostrils with the stench.
"You're a right bastard. You know that?"
Cooper doesn't give a rat's – no. A horse's ass.
It's been like this for a while. He ran from Cazador's ranch, barely escaped with his life... and now he's here. And he has the world's worst horse, to boot.
"Come on. Move your arse." Cooper has taken to standing right on top of his bedroll and now stubbornly refuses to move, letting out a huff he swears is the horse laughing at him. Oh, you want me to move? How quaint.
By the time he finally settles by his newly set campfire, the sun is dipping down below the horizon proper, and it's cooling down enough to warrant the flames. His bedroll is dusty and vaguely crusty now - with what, he isn't sure, but he isn't about to question it. He needs sleep, and there aren't any better alternatives unless he wants to sleep in the sand.
He'd foolishly thought that sand, its individual grains and all, might be easy to lay on. I mean, it wasn't half bad when he got a handful of it. Couldn't be that bad, right?
Wrong. He had crawled back to his stinking bedroll what he assumed was a few short hours later. The stench was a small price to pay to keep sand out of his ears. And eyes. And pants.
When the sun finally dawns over the horizon he's got this sick taste in his mouth and his back aches. His canteen does almost nothing for the taste – if anything it spreads it and he decides it is time to get going. He's able to stuff his bed roll back into its spot and Cooper's put a stink up about it. Phenomenal.
By the time he's ridden into town, the sun's fully out and it's starting to sting across his arms, sweat has begun to roll down his neck, forehead, arms… it's desperately uncomfortable. The market in town (there's only one) is small, but there's a map, and the next town closest to this one is at least half a day away. That is, if this map is accurate at all.
Cooper, damn him, is busy trying to eat dirt outside. He's stupid, so incredibly stupid, but he understands the sentiment from this sad little horse. He'd eat dirt too if it tasted remotely better than the stale water they’d been drinking. If your diet consists of hay and apples and some limp vegetables, he supposes the bar isn't particularly high.
Still, if he hits the well in this town and sets off in the next hour or so, he'll be able to make it to Waukeen’s Rest by sundown. Maybe even before sundown. Maybe he could sleep somewhere not riddled with dirt and grime and whatever else.
Cooper gulps water, looks a bit pressed, and then starts back at it again while he fills his canteen. Incredible. That's just great. Focus. He needs to focus.
...Right. There's dirt. And a single tree that seems to be Cooper's favorite piece of vegetation - mostly because there is no other vegetation around to appreciate. He's been gnawing on a branch for the last five minutes, and as much as Astarion wants to ride through...
"Cooper. For pity's sake, you stupid horse."
Cooper doesn't care. He kicks up some dirt and stares like Astarion's just smacked him.
It's just his luck that the prettiest man he's seen in months approaches him as he's considering selling the damn thing for a loaf of bread.
"Is your... um... friend here, giving you trouble?"
Oh. The man's got long brown hair tied into a bun and these honey brown eyes that sparkle in the sun, and...
"...Hello?"
"Oh. Um... no, this is Cooper, and he's a dumb bastard, and I hate him."
"Oh, Cooper?" The man reaches out a hand, and Cooper, the traitor, nuzzles at it. "He doesn't seem so bad. You're not so bad, are you, boy?"
"Cooper is awful. Don't let him fool you. I'm Astarion, by the way."
"Astarion? That's a curious name. I'm Gale."
Gale. It fits. He's a pretty man. Far too pretty. And bloody infuriating - why is Cooper being so cooperative?
"See? He's just a big sweetheart - tell you what, Astarion. There's a stable a short ways away from here. How about I help you get this equine friend of yours settled, and you take a moment to rest?"
Rest. Here? He almost wants to laugh. He's used to Cazador's lavish lifestyle. This town is hardly a speck, but...
He can't be picky anymore.
"That would be lovely, darling. Please, lead the way. I'd imagine he'd cooperate with you - I think he hates me."
—
It's only about an hour later he understands why the man's invited him into town. He's seated at the bar nursing a large glass of water when the man places a piece of paper on the bar beside him.
WANTED!
Astarion Ancunin
Please return to Szarr Estates, $200 upon return ALIVE
The drawing flatters him, at least, he supposes. That's his first thought before, Oh, shit. I'm being hunted.
"Is this you, Astarion?"
He isn't sure why the pretty man is asking. He knows damn well it's him.
"Hm. Well."
Gale levels a stare at him.
"It depends."
Gale's face screws up in this odd way -- it's unfitting for a man that looks as lovely as he does. Still, he's pretty sure this lovely man intends on collecting this bounty.
He takes a long sip of his water (it's more akin to a chug) while Gale collects himself.
"So, say it is you. What do you think I should do about it?"
"See, darling?" He points at the picture. "It's not me. My cheekbones are far too low in this picture. If it was me, surely they'd get that right."
"I think this reward looks tempting."
Astarion scoffs. "Cazador's a lying bastard, he won't give you all of that."
"So you do know Cazador?"
...Shit.
"And so if I do?"
The woman who walks into the bar at precisely the wrong moment is beautiful, but Gale looks like he's just eaten a lemon. Maybe she isn’t here at the wrong moment, after all, because Gale has stopped talking entirely about arrests and bounties and the like. Astarion can't help but to think he's either gay – she’s beautiful and he looks like he’d rather die than talk to her – or she's not nearly as nice as she seems.
"Gale." She sidles up to him and settles into the seat at his other side. "What a surprise."
"Mystra." Oh. Like... the mayor? The mayor of this town, Mystra? That Mystra?
"Who's your new friend?"
"His name is Thomas." A lie. Is he... covering for him? "We were just about to leave."
"So soon? But Gale, darling... I wanted to talk. To apologize. Don't you have a moment?"
"I'm afraid I do not." It looks like the words pain him. Astarion keeps his mouth very tightly shut. No need to insert himself and make things worse.
"Gale-"
"I haven't the time, Mystra."
He grabs Astarion by the arm and all but drags him away from the bar. Not that he's resisting. Easier to get out than stay here.
The stars are bright out in the middle of nothing. This town is a speck on the map but this time he's rather glad that it is. He's sure if bounty papers have made it all the way over here they're littered all over larger towns with more eyes on them to boot.
Gale is still halfway dragging him down the street and back to the stables where he left Cooper. Perfect time to get some information.
"...So, who was that?"
Gale is silent as they continue this walk-stumble-drag down the road.
Shit... A different approach?
He can’t think of anything and the stables are barely a minute away at this rate. He decides to let Gale come around to talking first instead.
"No one important."
“Bullshit, darling. You looked at her like she’d kicked your puppy, and you didn’t even turn me in – which, for the record, would have been remarkably easy, considering she’s the mayor.”
“And my ex-wife.”
Silence.
“...Ah. I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t. Nobody expects a woman like her to put up with a man like me. She’s beautiful. Powerful. And I’m…”
“Gale. You’re Gale. And as far as I can tell, you’re not that awful of a fellow. Unless you really are planning on turning me in to Cazador. In which case, I fear I’ll have to take care of things.”
“...No. No, I- can I be honest with you, Astarion? I’m not sure what I want anymore, other than to get the hell away from Mystra.”
“Well, as it turns out, I have very similar goals. I intend to get away from Cazador. Permanently.”
There’s a flicker of recognition there – like recognizes like. Gale nods once.
“And if you come with me,” Astarion continues, “you’ll never have to see her again.”
“And why do I trust you?”
“You probably don’t. But ask yourself this - is it worth staying? Is it worth putting up with her for the rest of your bloody life just because there isn’t an out? I’m giving you an out, darling.”
He extends a hand. “All you have to do is take it.”