Chapter Text
You swirl your wine glass, watching the dark liquid catch the moonlight. It is a comfortable summer’s night in Waterdeep; the air is humid but carries a salt-tickled breeze from the Sea of Swords. You sit beside Gale upon his stone patio, the City of Splendors sprawling beneath you. In the far distance, the Walking Statues loom like silent, gargantuan sentinels against the horizon. Gale once told you they animate in times of peril– a fable you’ve yet to see proven, though in this city, you’ve learned legends have a habit of being true.
Curling closer to the warmth of your lover, you tuck your head under the shelf of his jaw. His beard tickles your face. You close your eyes, listening to the steady, rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat. It’s a sound you could lose yourself in for hours– a constant reminder of the life he carries so effortlessly.
You miss yours terribly.
Tara, his faithful tressym, is nestled against your side. You’ve grown quite fond of the creature; you’ve always had a soft spot for cats. They are little predators and hunters like you– though you’ll gladly let them be the ones eating rats. But Tara happens to be a magical one, with wings. You feel her press her tiny forehead into your leg as you lean into Gale.
“The sky is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”
Gale isn’t looking at the city, but out toward the water, watching the shimmering reflection of the stars dancing on the waves. You follow his gaze, to the silver orb that hangs among the black expanse splattered with stars. Beautiful it always is– but you feel some bitterness knowing you will never see its day counterpart.
“Not as beautiful as you,” you mumble against the skin of his neck. You pointedly ignore the sudden, sharp gnaw in your gut that tempts you to bite down– the eternal, uninvited guest that always ruins the mood. How typical. You are draped in silk, surrounded by the finest comforts of Waterdeep, and yet your hunger still insists on behaving like a common stray in a gutter.
You press a tender kiss to his neck instead, and he hums, the vibration thrumming through your lips.
“A tacky compliment– shocking for your wit. But, appreciated nonetheless.” He turns, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His lips are searingly warm, the sensation lingering like a brand on your cool skin. He strokes your jaw with the back of his fingers. His warmth is comforting.
You smile despite yourself and look back to the sky. For a brief moment, a streak of white cuts through the darkness beside the moon– a thin line of light that vanishes in a heartbeat.
“Make a wish,” Gale says, his voice laced with a strange, timeless gravity.
A laugh bubbles up in your throat, sharp and reflexive. “I wish…”
The words die there. Your chest tightens, a sudden cold ache of bitterness rising as the truth of it settles behind your teeth. The one thing you would want above all else, and the one thing you can never have.
You look away, masking the slip with a dismissive wave. “Ah, come on, you actually believe in that? Ever the sentimentalist…”
Despite yourself, your expression softens. You can’t help but admire the effortless way he offers up his heart.
Gale tears his eyes away from the stars to look at you. His smile falters, gaze searching yours– scarlet and mournful.
“Tell me,” he says softly, his hand finding yours. “You wish…”
The silence stretches, thin and fragile. You let your guard drop, just an inch.
“...that I was alive again,” you murmur, the words feeling dangerous and heavy. “Not a vampire.”
You look down at your hands, pale and frozen in time. It hurts more than you expect to say it aloud.
He sighs, a soft sound of shared grief, and runs his hand through your silver curls. His thumb traces the curve of your pointed ear with a tenderness that almost makes the hunger worse. It’s a cruel irony– the more he loves you, the more you feel the hollow, aching vacuum of what you are.
He presses another kiss to your temple. “Astarion,” he whispers, “you know if I could give you the sun itself and the very beat of my heart, I would do it without a second thought.”
You curl your fingers into the heavy silk of his robes. You believe him.
You reach for a memory, trying to find the feeling of the sun soaking into your skin like a heavy wool blanket. You recall a year ago, when you had been infected with a mindflayer parasite. You almost wish you still were. But the memory grows foggier with each passing day. The fuzzy, pleasantly stinging glow of the sun slips from your fingers like dry sand. In its place is the dead-cold iciness you’ve carried since the day you died.
Gale’s fingers rest against your ear. For all his mastery of the elements, for all the towers and titles, he is still just a man holding a ghost.
“If I could simply wish it away, just like that,” he makes a lazy snapping motion with his hand, “then I would…”
He hesitates, a recognition in his eyes. You see the gears turning. Tara raises her head up to him.
You tilt your head expectantly, waiting for more of his tender, reassuring touch– but he stills. You glance down to Tara, and run your hand down her spine, feeling the soft velvet of her fur.
“Well…” His voice trails off with a curious, upward lilt. He shifts, raising a finger up. He smirks a little.
“Well?” you prompt, sitting up. You narrow your eyes. “Gale. Don't give me that look.”
He gives you that look. His grin widens, his academic curiosity starting to catch fire. “What look?”
“The Wizard of Waterdeep look- you know which damned look.”
“I’m merely suggesting, there are stories of people using magic to wish things to happen… or unhappen.” He sits upright, his posture shifting from lover to scholar. “Legends say it is due to a great mastery of the Weave.”
You stare at him, scrutinizing him for some sort of sign of a joke, but you know him well, and he is not joking.
“...Are you telling me you know such a spell?”
He bursts into a short, self-deprecating laugh. Besides you, Tara stretches, gives a judgemental huff, and goes back to sleep.
“No! Heavens no, not myself. As well-versed as I am, such power would be nothing I could behold. It is a feat of magic said to be beyond most mortal comprehension.”
“Oh, don’t disappoint me like that,” you try to say playfully, but the brief spark of hope in you dies.
He sees the light in your eyes flicker out.
“...but,” he adds softly, “I have connections. Powerful ones.”
Connections. The glimmer is back, but tainted. “Your connections nearly cost you your life, Gale.”
“Perhaps,” he muses. You know he still blames himself.
You glance to the sky, watching soft clouds creep in front of the moon, obscuring its fierce light. You fantasize, for a moment, what it would be like again to see a sunrise.
“So,” you say, your voice sounding thinner than you’d like, “these connections of yours… would they really spare a thought for a creature like me? Or is this just another one of your grand, academic fantasies?”
His gaze lingers out to the horizon for a moment, and his genuine smile returns. You can tell by the shine in his eyes, he has more of a sparkle of hope than you do.
“We’ll see what I can do. Perhaps… I can pull a few strings.”
He reaches out, cupping your cheek. You lean into the palm of his hand, and let him pull you into a lingering kiss that tastes of salt air and impossible promises.