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They should have stayed in the Underdark. Certainly, the area was dangerous: mind-altering spores and headache-inducing spawn on top of some truly abominable creatures. His left arm still hurt from the attack of a Darkmantle. The creature hadn’t lived long enough to celebrate - he had seen to it, putting his daggers to good use.
Anyway. No terror the Underdark housed could compare to the sheer horror Astarion was faced with right now. And once again, it was all Gale’s fault. Gale Dekarios: thrice-damned, silver-tongued bastard who had resurrected Astarion’s undead heart, keeping it in his magic grasp ever since. To be fair, such antics were to be expected from a former chosen of Mystra and archmage turned professor. The real scandal was that Astarion had allowed it. Worse even, after they had defeated the Netherbrain and Gale had shielded him from the scorching sun that threatened to pulverise him without the tadpole’s protection, he had agreed to further explore their relationship. Since then, they had shared their time between the Underdark and Waterdeep. Finding a balance between duty and delight had been easier than anticipated and for the first time in two hundred years, Astarion felt happiness.
At least he had, until this morning. So far, Gale had delivered on his promise to treat Astarion like he deserved, including a cosy featherbed, a cellar filled with delicious wines and an extensive supply of fine fabric and thread so he could tailor and sew to his heart’s content. He had even prepared a workplace just for Astarion, enchanted with a spell that filled the place with daylight.
His wizard really was worth keeping, but he knew better than to tell him. He also would never tell him that the most precious thing about their arrangement wasn’t something material but the time they spent together, either in stimulating conversation or in each other’s arms.
None of Gale’s magic tricks or honeyed words could make up for the disaster that was attacking the city, though. A snowstorm was raging through Waterdeep, rendering its streets white, cold and inaccessible. By now, the snow piled up several feet. It had already blocked the tower’s entrance door, keeping him and Gale trapped inside. Not that Astarion would voluntarily set one foot into the snow masses, but the idea of being a prisoner once again nagged at him.
Pacing the living room, he glanced at the balcony and grimaced. Snow was mounting up almost to its railing, completely covering the bench he and Gale liked to spend the first hour after sundown. The gall!
And the literal icing on this very white cake was the fact that this was not your normal hundred year snowstorm. No, this one was caused by magic. Certainly, a city full of self-absorbed and cocky wizards had seen stranger things, but Astarion was not some weird mage. He was a normal, reasonable vampire.
As such he saw what all Waterdeep wizards chose to ignore - that this debacle could have been easily avoided if anybody at Blackstaff Academy had the common sense to tell the students that there were limits to their tomfoolery. Alas, they did anything but. Fine professors they were - enablers, all of them. Worst of all Gale himself, lauding the technique of a second year rascal while the love of his life had to suffer the very cold consequences of yet another overambitious mage in training.
“Good morning, my love,” Gale greeted when he entered the room, balancing a pile of ancient tomes in his hands, a warm smile playing around his lips.
“Nothing about this morning can be considered good,” Astarion scoffed with a disgusted wave of his hand. “And you’d better pull an effective counterspell from one of these books. Else you can bring them right back where they came from. Either way, this room is stuffed enough with antique paper as it is.”
“Now now.” Gale’s smile didn’t even waver when he put the books on a small stool. “It is only snow, Astarion. It will melt soon enough.”
“Only snow? This, wizard, is nothing short of a mage-made disaster!”
With a chuckle, Gale walked towards him and hugged him from behind. The soft wool of his vest and his touch were so warm and comfortable that Astarion couldn’t help but lean back into the wizard. His gaze fell on Gale’s wedding ring, the gold band with a ruby in the middle complementing his brown skin beautifully. Luckily, his husband couldn’t see him smile at the sight.
“I don’t know…there certainly are some benefits to the predicament in which we find ourselves.”
Gale did not try to hold Astarion when he turned around with a frown on his face, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Such as? This isn’t one of your illusion lessons, Gale. No amount of honeyed words can change the harsh reality. It is bloody cold and it never gets dark again because the snow is so bright. We are stuck in this tower. That means no nightly walks, no trips to buy new wine or fabric or literally anything else for that matter and on top of that I am only a few days away from succumbing to this awful wind. Do you have any idea just how sensitive elf ears are?”
“I might have gotten an inkling over the past few years,” Gale said, still smiling and so calm it made Astarion furious.
“Back to the topic at hand. If I measure the situation correctly, we do have two possibilities. We can bemoan the snowstorm and sit together in shared misery. You know how much I delight in the days we spend together, but to speak bluntly, this would be a waste of time. So we could just as well use this little compulsory break on our cozy settee in front of the fireplace. I did manage to find a few promising tomes about vampirism when we visited that one vendor in the Underdark. I could warm you while reading through them.”
Astarion tilted his head. Though the notion definitely had its charm, he would not let his husband off the hook quite so easily.
“If you think that a cuddle session will make up for that atrocious situation outside you are phenomenally wrong. I will have you know that-”
Tara, Gale’s beloved tressym and an absolute menace, flew into the room and settled on Gale’s shoulder, nuzzling her cheek against the wizard’s neck with a purr. This creature had the most terrible timing in all of Faerûn.
His husband didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, his eyes went soft as he began to pet Tara.
“What is this fuss about?” She eventually demanded, flapping her wings.
“And here I thought cats had excellent vision. Can’t you see that snowstorm raging outside?” Astarion rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, causing Gale to chuckle.
“First and foremost, I am a tressym, not a cat, Mr. Ancunin. Besides, my vision is impeccable, thank you very much. And right now I see a sulking vampire standing in the middle of our living room.”
“I am not sulking!”
Tara tilted her head and gave him that judgmental look only cats - and tressyms - were capable of.
“Obviously not,” she said, nudging her head against Gale’s chest. “Mr. Dekarios, be a dear and heat up the fireplace, will you? Although Mr. Ancunin’s behaviour is decidedly too dramatic given the current situation, he is right about one thing: this room could use a bit of extra warmth.”
Smiling, Gale scratched Tara between her ears before he flicked his fingers. The logs in the fireplace started to crackle under the heat of the flames Gale had conjured. Instantly, the room became warmer. Astarion went over to the fireplace and reached his hands out, the comforting warmth making his icy fingers prickle.
“Funny how you ignore your husband but are willing to act on every whim of your ca-tressym,” he muttered, looking into the flames.
“Has anybody ever told you that you are preposterous even for a vampire?” Tara said, flapped her wings once more and jumped from Gale’s shoulder to the huge ornate wooden table in front of the fireplace. Without so much as a second glance towards Astarion, she curled up with her back to him.
“You-”
Gale, still smiling, came over and took the hand Astarion was just raising to point at Tara.
“I am not ignoring you, my love. You told me you are freezing so I assume a fire will benefit both of you. Besides, arguing with Tara will not grant you any satisfaction - she isn’t responsible for the weather.”
Astarion looked at his husband with narrowed eyes. “Maybe so. Yet, you are coming to her defense - as usual - while I am standing here, still freezing. It is only a matter of minutes until I will freeze over and all that will be left of your husband will be a gorgeous ice sculpture. Is that what you want, wizard?”
“Absolutely not. Tell me whatever I can do to ease your suffering,” Gale said with a chuckle, placing a kiss on Astarion's knuckles. The warmth of his lips felt wonderful, but he would not tell him.
“You could start with bringing me a dozen blankets.”
Putting another kiss on his palm, Gale nodded. “As you wish.”
He was barely out of the room when Tara stood up, stretched and lay down again. “Gale would bring down every single star from the sky for you. The least you can do is to treat him nicely,” she said.
“I-”
Before he could finish his sentence, Gale came back, balancing three blankets, his warm purple shirt and a scarf with a star pattern his mother had knitted for Astarion, in his arms. He put the blankets on the settee, walked over to Astarion and handed him the shirt.
The vampire took it with a smile. “Still smells of you, darling.”
“Above all, it will make you warm and comfortable. And purple suits you,” Gale added with a look in his eyes that would make every puppy along the Sword Coast jealous.
Astarion took it with a smirk, his thumb brushing over Gale’s hand. “Every colour suits me.”
The soft fabric felt wonderful in his fingers and when he put on the shirt, he inhaled deeply and smirked. Then, he took the scarf and tied it around his neck.
“I am still freezing.”
“That’s why I brought the blankets.”
Gale took his hand and led him to the settee. Astarion took a soft pillow and put it against the armrest. While he sprawled himself on the settee, Gale was already busy wrapping him in the blankets. They were watched by Tara, who had opened one eye and sighed.
Astarion chose to ignore her, hummed quietly and sank deeper into the pillow.
“Better?” Gale’s smile shone brighter than the fire behind them.
“Mhm…it is almost acceptable,” Astarion mumbled, lips curling into a smirk. “It would be better with a glass of wine, though. Arabellan Dry, if you would.”
“Astarion Ancunin, you really are ineffable.”
“Ineffably magnificent, my dearest wizard. Besides, you still have to make amends for this mess outside.”
“Of course. Would you allow me to share the settee with you once I come back with your wine?”
“I might consider it. If you ask nicely, dear husband.” Baring his fangs in a teasing smile, he grasped Gale’s shirt and pulled him down for a kiss.