Chapter Text
Once upon a time, there was a very intelligent and determined little boy from Waterdeep. At just seven summers old, Gale was a prodigy of the Weave, far more talented than mages five times his age. He likened himself to a godling though not with any sort of petty vanity —it was just simply a matter of fact. He spoke in complete sentences, thought carefully, and answered confidently. Assumptions and beliefs had no place in his learning.
He knew what he wanted and what was to come for certain.
And so sternly did he explain this to his mother when she had questioned his choice of biscuits once. She only smiled and pat his head, more impressed by the boy’s advanced vocabulary than anything else that came out of his silly mouth.
While away on a visit to Baldur’s Gate with his mother, Gale caught sight of a life-changing vision. He clutched his mother’s hand with his own sticky ones, dusted in honey from his treat, and leaned into the view.
Sitting on the fountain’s edge at the center of the plaza, was a beautiful elf fanning himself from the heat. His skin was smooth and pale, devoid of any imperfections save for the mole on his left cheek. White soft curls were coifed back, allowing his long pointed ears to frame his elegant angular face. He wore a nearly translucent gossamer tunic and brown leather pants: the casual outfit a nobleman might wear.
To the small boy, who had only ever seen the faces of dockhands and the tired expressions of tutors, the sight of this stranger was a near holy experience. He was made of starlight, surely.
Gale stopped dead in the street, digging his slippered heels against the cobblestones. His mother tugged, but the boy would not move. In his storybooks, such beauty was the mark of the divine.
"Mother," Gale whispered. "That is an angel."
Before his mother could hush him or tell him otherwise, Gale pulled his little hand free. With the gusto of an older man, he smoothed the front of his velvet doublet, pushed back a wayward lock of brown hair, and marched towards the elf.
Astarion was halfway through giving up waiting for his companion when he felt a tug on the hem of his sleeve. He looked down, expecting a beggar or perhaps a pickpocket, only to find a small human boy staring back at him with determined eyes. The child was dressed in fine, if slightly rumpled, robes with Waterdhavian insignias.
“Salutations,” the boy said with a bow near to his knees. “I am Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep. I saw you across the plaza and had to see if you were as angelic up close as from afar. Ser, you are the most beautiful person my eyes have ever beheld.”
Astarion’s smirk widened, amused by the boldness of this new little stranger. “Oh? Aren’t you adorable, little one!”
Gale closed his eyes and nodded then continued with his arms crossed behind his back, “An angel felled from the heavens I assume? What should I call you?”
Astarion blinked rapidly in disbelief. He looked to his empty side, then back down at the boy, and threw back his head in a laugh. "You think me an angel? My, you are quite the flatterer! I am afraid I am quite of this mortal plane, darling. Astarion Ancunín to you, Master Dekarios."
Gale did not look discouraged. In fact, he looked even more resolute. He stepped closer, his big brown eyes filled with certainty.
“Impossible,” he declared. “Even your name reveals your place among the heavens. You are an angel and therefore you may only belong to the heavens and gods. It is my intention, then, to merely reach the heavens with you."
Astarion arched his eyebrow. He leaned forward, hands on his knees, with his face level with the child’s.
“Oh, is that so?” the elf teased, pushing a lock of the boy’s hair behind his rounded ear. “And why would you do that?”
“Because I will marry you when I am grown," Gale stated plainly. "I shall work tirelessly to gain your favor. I know I am but a boy now, and you find me amusing, but I possess a great destiny. I will become a wealthy, powerful mage—the mightiest in all the realms. And then I will give you a life of roses and honey.”
Astarion couldn’t help but scoff, humored at the boy’s bravado - though it was undeniably charming. It had been a long time since anyone had offered Astarion anything with such innocent conviction.
“A life of roses and honey,” Astarion playfully considered, tapping his lips. “That’s quite the offer. But I have many suitors—”
“None of whom are Gale Dekarios,” the boy interrupted, puffing out his small chest. “I am steadfast. You may find me adorable now, ser, but I promise to sweep you off your feet when I am a man! I will grow handsome and strong. Then, I will gain Mystra’s favor and take you back to the heavens where we will live our lives together for eternity.”
A snort slipped from Astarion’s mouth. He tried to pull back, keen not to hurt the boy’s feelings, but he couldn’t contain the bubbly laugh that followed suit. The elf reached out and bopped Gale’s nose with a regal finger.
“Very well, Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep,” Astarion teased, catching his breath. “I accept your terms. But if you wish to claim my hand, you must fulfill your vow and promises.”
He leaned in conspiratorially with a patronizingly sweet whisper.
“Become this mighty wizard you speak of. Study and listen to your parents and become the mightiest in all of Faerûn. And when you return to me, you must bring me the most beautiful rose in existence, and the sweetest honey in the lands. Do that, and I will surely be swept off my feet."
Gale bowed, deeply honored by the quest given to him.
“Then we are betrothed, my beloved,” the boy said quite seriously. “I shall not fail you.”
"Gale! Oh, thank the gods!"
Gale’s mother finally frantically broke through the crowd. She swooped the prodigy up into her arms and looked apologetically at the elf. “I am so sorry, ser, he wanders off so often—”
“His name is Astarion, Mother,” Gale announced loudly from her hip, pointing back at the elf. “And I will marry this angel one day!”
Astarion looked at her with a face of humored resignation and crooked smile. Gale’s mother shook her head, understanding that this was one of Gale’s many declarations made of certainty.
“Oh, my apologies, Lord Astarion,” she said with a humored smile, hoisting her son higher. “Though, I’m afraid, you’ll have to wait until he’s a little older.” She winked.
Astarion shrugged, exaggerating his reluctant agreement. “Very well, I suppose I can wait. Until then, Master Dekarios!” He waved them goodbye as Gale's mother did the same.
She carried Gale away through the bustling streets of Baldur’s Gate but he was in his thoughts. He rested his chin on her shoulder, watching the beautiful elf grow smaller in the distance until he disappeared into the crowd.
He knew they were mocking him now but Gale was sure he would prove them wrong.
He was, after all, a very determined little wizard.