Archive of Our Own

"The tadpoles, the Absolute ... it was because of you? I think you've said and done more than enough. Leave me be."

Ziri flinches as if he had been struck. He doesn't try to argue. Doesn't try to justify what had been revealed in the coronation hall. He just nods, his jaw and shoulders taut, eyes flinging to the ground. Despite how hard he tries to hide his emotions, his tail gives him away, the end of it wrapping around his own calf—something he does to soothe himself.

"I'll give you all the time you need."

Gale hasn't seen Ziri since. For so long, they had been running and fighting against the Absolute, only to find out that their leader was one of its masterminds. Worse, Gale had shared his heart with him. He loved him.

Gale can accept that Ziri is a Bhaalspawn. That much he already knew. He had promised to protect him until he prevailed against his condition. But Bhaal's cult leader and Chosen?

He supposes it makes sense. People are always drawn to Ziri—attracted to his confidence, his leadership, the way he pays attention to you like you're the only person in the room. Gale feels like such a fool, just another person who tripped and fell under Ziri's spell.

The group returned to camp after the coronation, tensions high and bickering amongst each other. It was Ziri who usually served as their mediator and guided everyone to a neutral solution. Jaheira was forced to step into his role in his place, calming everyone down to the best of her ability, but eventually, she and Minthara started to bump heads as they vied for control.

Gale doesn't know what to think. He holed away in his tent for the evening, ignoring the animated chatter outside, until the voices eventually tapered off a few hours later. He tries to rest, but his mind keeps him wide awake, wandering back to the coronation—to the way Gortash looked at Ziri. His dark eyes had lit up as soon as he entered the room, bright and warm as melted tar, his cruel smile actually genuine. The way he addressed Ziri ... it had been far more than just business partners. It had been fond. Intimate.

Gale feels a stab of ... surely it isn't jealousy. His mouth twists in annoyance, rolling around and punching the fluff back into his pillows. (Bitterly, he can't help but imagine it's Gortash's greasy face.) He lies back down and closes his eyes—tries to force sleep to come—but all he can think of is Ziri. Ziri and Gortash, and Ziri and Bhaal, Ziri's expression when Gale told him to leave him alone, the tadpole laughing and squirming—

Gale throws the blankets off with a huff. He pries himself up and tosses aside the flap to his tent, marching outside.

He's greeted by the sound of chirping crickets and croaking bullfrogs. By now, everyone else has also retired to their tents. A full moon rises over the tops of trees and the surrounding crumpling houses, most of the stars smothered out by fat clouds. 

They had made camp at an abandoned farmland. There, square in the middle of it, Gale finds Minsc crouched by the campfire and rubbing two sticks together.

For someone who is supposed to be a ranger, he's certainly having a difficult time getting a fire started. Gale plops down on a nearby log and waits.

Minsc rubs the sticks together harder. Blows on them until his cheeks turn pink with effort, spraying out spittle.

Gale's temples throb with annoyance. He watches him struggle for a few more moments until he finally grows impatient and waves his hand. Crackling, deep-orange flames burst to life, blooming across the firewood.

Minsc lurches back from the blast of sudden heat. A large grin unwinds across his face. "Ah-ha! Did you see that, Boo? I did it!"

Gale sighs.

Minsc notices him for the first time. "Wizard! You have emerged from your place of hiding."

"I wasn't hiding. I was deep in contemplation."

"Ah." He nods sagely. "Minsc understands. Have you tried figs?"

"What?" Gale says.

"Figs! Figs help with the constipation."

"Not constipation, contemplation."

"Bah!" Minsc waves his beefy hand. "Minsc does not need to know the language of wizards. If you need a fig, just ask. Boo is more than happy to share." He peers at him. "What is wrong with your face?"

"Nothing is wrong with my face."

"Wrong! There is a deep furrow between your brows. And not the kind that comes from the thinking."

"Fine," Gale says. "I am angry."

"Why?"

He scoffs. "Surely, you have heard about Ziri by now."

"Yes? And?"

"And?" Gale laughs, incredulous. "And he was the leader of the Cult of Bhaal! The Chosen of the God of Murder! Do you know how many people he must have killed? How much suffering he must have caused? He pledged to end all life and existence in his father's name! He, he—" He winds his hand through his hair, at a loss. "He was the mastermind behind the Absolute plot. Worked with Gortash and Ketheric Thorm. Helped Gortash use the Crown of Karsus on the elder brain to create a soulless army of mindflayers. He's the reason why I have a tadpole in my eye. Why we all do! He's the reason we're here, why we've been fighting and running all across Faerûn. I ... I had no doubts about supporting him before, when he was a Bhaalspawn fighting against his nature. I promised to protect him, to believe the best in him. But now? Now I do not think I can ever trust him again."

"You think too much," Minsc says.

"What?"

"You think too much. Be like Minsc! Be simple."

"What do you know?" Gale snaps. "You were nothing but stone for centuries. You talk to your hamster and only speak of—of nothing but wickedness and posteriors!"

"That is not true. Not once have I used the word posterior."

"The meaning of the word is the same."

"Butts, Gale! I speak of butts! And the only butt I want to smack is yours."

"I—" Gale blinks, half angry, half horrified. "What?"

"Your head is stuck in the past's behind. You must pull it out and look ahead."

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Then I shall say it like this: Minsc has also heard this news about Ziri, and yet, he is untroubled. Do you know why?"

Gale sighs. "Why?"

"Because he is my friend." Minsc's eyes, usually dull as mud, shine like polished stones. "You think too much and so you worry. But do you see Minsc worry? No. It is because I am not a slave to the thinking. Minsc's thoughts are simple thoughts. And Minsc's thoughts about Ziri is this: Ziri is not the wicked Ziri from before. He is Ziri now." He finishes with a little flourish. "Simple!"

Gale opens his mouth to argue but stops. The Ziri he knows defended the Emerald Grove from an army of goblins. Helped Shadowheart come to her senses and save the Nightsong. Killed Ketheric Thorm and the hag, supported Gale when his condition was most volatile and ... gave him something to live for. The Ziri Gale loves and knows doesn't want the end of the world. He wants to protect it.

Regret and guilt crush him all at once. Gale promised Ziri that he would protect him until he prevailed. Promised him he wasn't going anywhere, and the moment the opportunity came to prove those words, Gale did the exact opposite.

"Shit," he says.

Minsc laughs out loud. "For once, your words make perfect sense!"

"Right," Gale says, rising to his feet. "My apologies, but I must be going. I need to find Ziri and make this right."

"Yes. Minsc suggests a gift basket—with figs."

"I was more so thinking of painting the sky with streaks of turquoise and violet. Of lighting the heavens with stars and producing a magical symphony that will portray how deep my regrets go. Followed by some poetry and a great deal of groveling."

"Forget all of that, Gale. Figs, I tell you."

✨ 🔮✨ 

Gale strides to Astarion's tent and does not bother with the preamble of knocking, pushing away the front curtain and stepping inside. "Astarion, have you seen Ziri?"

Astarion yelps and drops something in his hand, falling to the ground with a small thud. He's standing behind Karlach, who's perched on his bedroll with her legs crossed underneath her, blinking up at Gale in surprise. Something ... wet and green is smeared all over her face. It seems to be melting. A large glob of it plops off her cheek and onto her knee.

Gale frowns. "Uhh ...."

"Good gods, Gale! Have you ever heard of knocking?"

"Yes, sorry. I just—" He stares at Karlach a moment longer. "I deeply apologize, but what in the Weave is on your face?"

"I have no idea." Karlach throws her thumb over her shoulder. "Fangs here suggested it. Said it would help me relax after, you know, everything that happened today."

"It's my magic facemask, obviously." 

Astarion sniffs and plucks a hairbrush up from the ground, dusting the back off on his pant leg. Gale notices for the first time that the braids are untangled from Karlach's hair, the unshaven section pulled back into a low ponytail.

"Magic ..." Gale stares at him. "Where on Toril did you buy a magical-infused facemask?"

"I didn't! It's my own recipe. Not that you get to know what it is." Astarion levels him with a flat look. "Now, can I help you with something? A spa regime of your own, perhaps? Because I have to say, I'm not keen on sharing my immaculate facemask with you." He tilts his head at Gale and squints. "Though, perhaps I could whip out some garden shears to trim down that beard ..."

"I'm looking for Ziri. Do you know where he's gone?"

Karlach flinches. 

Astarion sighs and sets the hairbrush aside, grabbing Gale by the elbow and steering him out of his tent. He shuts the flap behind him and crosses his arms. "Finally come to your senses, have you?"

"You could say that. Do you know where he is?"

"How should I know?"

Gale sighs. "Because you're his best friend."

"Ha! Am, aren't I?" Astarion preens. "I suppose I should have an idea then."

"Astarion, please. I need to make things right."

"Tsk! Oh, all right! Only because you said please." Astarion gestures skyward. "He's on the roof."

"The roof! Yes, of course! Thank you." A small pause. Then, "which one?"

Astarion scoffs. "You're a wizard! Figure it out."

"Ah! Yes, you are absolutely correct. A location spell should do the trick."

"Lovely to see you using that overstuffed brain of yours. Now, can I go?"

"Yes. Thank you for your assistance."

Astarion rolls his eyes and turns back to his tent, but he pauses with his fingers curled around the edge of the flap. "Oh, and Gale?"

"Yes?"

"If he doesn't come back after all of this, then please know all of your books and scrolls are going to somehow magically find themselves at the bottom of the River Chionthar."

"Noted," Gale says flatly.

"Exellent! Now go and bring him back ... or else you may just find yourself robbed blind."

✨ 🔮✨ 

The spell leads Gale to the heart of Rivington. He follows a trail of all things Ziri—follows a path of music and woodsmoke, laced with the deep scent of cinnamon and clove. As he draws closer to the Rivington General, Gale can hear the faint strum of a lute coming from somewhere up above.

Gale circles around, trying to discern where it's coming from. Then, he spies Ziri sitting atop of the building.

He Misty-Steps onto the roof. Ziri doesn't seem to have heard him. He has his back to him, strumming a slow song Gale doesn't recognize, legs dangling over the ledge. Scratch is at his side with his head in his lap, lulled to sleep by the gentle music.

Gale doesn't like to approach Ziri from behind without making his presence known. He stops and sends out a Dancing Lights spell. Spheres of lilac light bloom to life all around, filling the air. He wills them into another shape, as easy as breathing—butterflies. Dozens of them flutter around each other, perching on the ridges of Ziri's horns, his brows, his shoulders. One lands on the back of his hand.

The music lurches to a halt. Ziri spins around, sending the butterflies scattering. "Gale?"

"Yes." Gale's voice comes out weaker than he intended. He clears his throat. "Hello."

"... Hello."

An awkward pause falls between them. Gale fiddles with his earring. "May I sit down?"

A stiff nod. Ziri sets aside his lute and gently wakes Scratch, scooting over to give Gale room. Once they're settled, Scratch curls up against Ziri's side again, closing his eyes for another snooze.

Gale has a good view of Rivington from up here. All the surrounding shops are closed, the streets dark and quiet. Candles light the windows of the houses built into the mountainside across the way. A heavy silence continues to stretch between them, the wind murmuring through the surrounding pines, bouncing their branches and tangling through their hair.

"How did you get the dog up here?" Gale finally asks.

"He sought me out when I didn't come back to camp," Ziri says, not looking at him. "I tried to shoo him home, but he wouldn't leave. I carried him—well, Shadow-Stepped up here."

Gale hums in acknowledgement.

"How did you find me?"

"Astarion offered a suggestion," Gale says. "Though, I confess, in the end, I may have … encouraged the Weave to divulge your location."

"So, in other words, you cast a location spell."

Gale sighs. "I cast a location spell," he agrees.

Ziri laughs quietly. The smile slowly melts back into something solemn, gently working his fingers into the fur behind Scratch's ear. "Gale ... why are you here?"

Magic glitters at Gale's fingertips. He thinks of his grand plans on how to make this right. He thinks of his aurora borealis, the stars and the symphony—beautiful ideas he does not have the time to execute properly like how he did in the Shadowlands. Then, he remembers Minsc's words. 

Be simple.

"I'm sorry." The words rush and roll out of him like heavy stones. Gale flexes his fingers, and the magic eddies away on the breeze. Still, he keeps going. "I'm sorry I did not respond to your past with composure or compassion. I let you down. Not just as a companion but as your partner."

Ziri sighs. "Gale—"

"Please, let me finish. I confess, I was profoundly taken off guard by the news, but ... so were you. And instead of supporting you and trying to make sense of it all, I cast you aside. I promised to protect you until you prevailed. I promised, when you confessed your nature to me, that I would stand by you. I had the chance to prove those words, and instead, I spurned you with my anger and my judgement."

"Gale, it's all right. It's ... a great deal to take in." Ziri laughs without mirth. "I'm still shaken by it."

"That's exactly my point. You didn't know. You care. And yet, I reacted to the shadow of your past and with no consideration of the person before me—the person who has fought, bled and and risked everything to dismantle the Absolute."

"But it's my fault that there's an Absolute to begin with."

Gale tilts his head. "Is it?"

Ziri blinks "What?"

"Is it all your fault?"

"Uh. Yes?"

"Allow me to offer a different perspective."

"Going to analyze my dark and twisty past now, are you?"

"I am simply evaluating the facts laid out before us." Gale gently bumps Ziri's knee with his own, offering a small smile. "Indulge me for a moment."

Finally, Ziri smiles back. He gusts out a heavy sigh. "All right, fine. Go ahead."

"I have had a lot of time to think on the way here, and I wager it is your father who planted this idea for this plot to begin with. The way you describe your Urge ... it sounds like Bhaal is constantly pouring poison into your ear. Any resistance against him is met with punishment. He buys your devotion by only giving you relief when you give in to his dark, malicious fantasies."

Ziri frowns. "That's true. I told you before how I felt ... ashamed whenever I took joy in anything other than murder." He shoots a rueful glance down to his lute and scoffs. "It all makes a lot more sense now."

"Exactly. It's because Bhaal demands your complete devotion. It is no small wonder you felt so confused when we first met."

Ziri gives a small nod. A cool breeze ruffles through his hair, twisting around the trinkets decorating his horns. He stares down at his hands in his lap, the palms open and facing upwards. Gale notices small, dry cuts around his fingers—the places where he's bit and picked at his skin.

"It may explain things, but it still doesn't erase what I've done. Even if Bhaal gave me the idea, I still went through with it. The blood on my hands ... the people I've ..." He grimaces, unable to finish. "I've hurt so many people."

"Yes. And I won't disregard the severity of that, but ..." Gale reaches, weaving, until their fingers are clasped together. "You have chosen integrity over and over again. Since the moment we met, you have fought against your Urge. You stand firm where others, if they struggled with your condition, would surely falter. You may not always see it, but your will is extraordinary."

"I tried to kill you," Ziri says, his voice hoarse.

"Mmm ... yes, but as I recall, you had been ordered to by ... what was it again? A wicked wretch in the night?"

Ziri laughs. The sound is wet and dismayed. "Yes."

"Precisely. You were ordered to do it, and yet, you defied those orders. You could have easily followed through, if you wanted to, but you chose to wake me. Your instincts and Bhaal may tell you to elicit violence but again—it is your choices now that matter. Your choices for ..." He struggles for a word, and all that comes to mind is a very Minsc way of expressing it. "—for goodness ... are what made me fall in love with you."

Another wet laugh. Ziri blinks rapidly, as though fighting back tears. "I'm sorry. I wish my past were different."

Gale wraps an arm around him, and an exhale gusts out of Ziri's mouth, long and hard, leaning against him with all of his weight. Tears finally burst from his eyes, thick and full, his lashes dark and clumped.

"I, of all people, understand what it is like being haunted by the past. We can only learn from it and ... tread forward. Yes?"

Ziri nods, his cheek squished against Gale's shoulder. Gale leans down, until their foreheads brush and their lips slot together. He kisses him so, so, tenderly, pushing aside his tears with his thumbs.

The kiss is interrupted by something wet and slobbery swiping against Gale's cheek. He rears up, shocked. "Argh! What the—"

Scratch woofs happily, wagging his tail like mad. Apparently, he's thrown himself across Ziri's lap.

"Oh, good heavens," Gale mutters. He doesn't like that jovial gleam in Scratch's eye. He leans away, holding up a finger. "No! No. Don't even consider—"

Scratch slams his paws against Gale's chest and licks his face in earnest.

"Argh! Down. Shoo. Uhh—heel?"

Ziri laughs out loud. "Come now, boy. He doesn't like that." He gently tugs Scratch back. The dog whines and turns his assault onto Ziri instead, licking the tears away from his face. He sputters and laughs even harder, twisting away.

Warmth blooms in Gale's chest. He grimaces and wipes the slobber from his cheek. "Ugh. I think I have faced Ochre Jellies and Greaseballs with less ... moisture."

"Did you just compare my dog to an ooze?"

"Right, my apologies. Scratch is much more charming."

"Hmm ... that's what I thought." Ziri finally eases Scratch down to his side. He sighs, petting his soft marshmallow fur. "Do you think it's safe for me to head back to camp?"

"Everyone is probably asleep by now," Gale says. He rises to a stand and stretches out his limbs. "Come on, we should get going. You can sleep in my tent."

"Scratch, too?"

"Mmm ..." Gale narrows his eyes without any heat. "Only if he agrees to keep the moisture at bay."

"I can make no promises on his behalf."

"Very well. A cross I will simply have to bear for the pleasure of your company."

Gale extends his hand, and Ziri takes it, allowing himself to be hauled to his feet. The smile slowly slips from his face. "How is Karlach?"

"She's ... upset. Understandably. Though, I think Astarion was trying to cheer her up when I left."

"That's good. I'm glad he's there for her." Ziri sighs. "I feel awful."

"I'm sure she will calm down after a good night's rest."

"Well," Ziri says slowly, his tail swishing behind him. "I do have an idea on how we can take Gortash down. Would you be willing to go over it with me?"

"There's nothing that would give me greater pleasure."

His body relaxes a little. "Thank you," he says, and then pauses. Meets his eye with a snicker. "Really? Nothing else, huh?"

Gale swats him on the arm.

✨ 🔮✨

The next morning, Gale wakes to the sound of their party members chatting outside. It sounds like they are trying to be quiet and are failing miserably. There's the sound of shuffling feet and loud whispering.

Ugh ... what time is it? Why is everyone awake? Before Gale can wrap his mind around it, the flap of his tent snaps open, assaulting his eyes with sunlight and a very happy Minsc. "Ziri! You have returned!"

Gale startles at the sheer volume of his voice. Ziri flails awake beside him with a caw like a raven. He sits up, delirious and utterly confused, his hair adorably tousled. "W-what?"

Minsc beams. "You've returned! Come! We have a surprise for you."

"I ... " Ziri looks deeply skeptical. "What kind of surprise?"

"If I told you then it would not be a surprise! Now come. Minsc shows you." He disappears and shuts the flap behind him.

Ziri turns to Gale. "Did you know about this?"

"I assure you, I did not," he says, voice heavy with exasperation and exhaustion. "If I had anything to do with this, the surprise would be later—preferably, after several cups of coffee."

He lets out a little grunt of affirmation and crawls to his feet, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Ziri pushes the flap aside, allowing Scratch to trot outside first, and then follows him with Gale close behind.

The whole group is gathered together. Ziri stops, flabbergasted. "Uh," he says. "What are those?"

"Figs!" Minsc gestures grandly to the basket set out on the table. "Minsc and Boo gathered every single one we had. Then Jaheira and the small, puny wood elf helped make more."

Halsin balks at the words small and puny. "I beg your pardon?"

"Are you not pleased?" Lae'zel throws her thumb over her shoulder and towards the basket. "The ranger said this would be an adequate apology gift."

Ziri stares, still not following. "Apology gift?"

"I have to admit, I didn't know you cared for figs this much, Ziri." Shadowheart picks one up and tilts it from side to side. "I suppose we all have our quirks."

Ziri has never had a fig in his life. "Uhh," he begins, but Minsc just laughs and cuts in.

"They're not just for Ziri. They are for his wizard too! To help with his constipation."

Ziri jerks his head up, alarmed. "What?"

"Mental!" Gale squawks. "He means mental constipation!"

"No," Minsc says, beaming. "That is not what Minsc means."

Astarion snorts. He tries to smother his laughter and fails miserably.

"Minsc is pleased to see you two together. It seems I did not need to slap my hand against Gale's backside after all."

Ziri looks very, very concerned which just makes this a thousand times worse.

"Please," Gale says, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Allow me to fill you in later."

"Back to the matter at hand," Lae'zel insists. "Are the figs sufficient?"

"I suggested poison," Minthara says. "Not for you, you understand, but for the others for doubting you." She shivers, as though relishing in the idea. "It would have been glorious."

"Just the others?" Ziri crosses his arms and grins. "Not you?"

"Of course not. I never doubted you."

"Um, hello?" Astarion says, raising his hand. "There are others here who also never doubted him and should be exempt from poisoning, theoretical or otherwise."

Wyll, who's holding a fig in his palm, suddenly stops with it halfway to his mouth. He frowns and turns it from side to side, as though inspecting it for foul play.

"You really didn't have to do this," Ziri says. "I understand if you're all still angry with me."

"Many of us were angry at first, but ... we have had time to think and discuss this amongst each other," Jaheira says. "Doubt between us only serves Gortash and the Absolute. You were just as surprised as we were. And as Minsc pointed out—"

"The Hand of Goodness has already met your buttocks and smacked the wickedness right out of you!" Minsc plants his hands on his hips and flashes another bright smile. "The Stone Lord has had his chance, and so shall the Bhaalspawn."

"What he said," Jaheira says.

"And Boo," Minsc adds. "Boo said it, too."

"Uhhh, right," Ziri says. "Thank ... you? I think." He scans each of their faces. "I appreciate all of this but—you should all know how deeply sorry I am. It's my fault you're in this mess."

Lae'zel's mouth pulls back from her teeth with a snarl. "Save your apologies. Crushing the elder brain shall be sufficient enough."

"Exactly!" Minthara says. "This is an opportunity! We believed we were all victims of the cult of the Absolute, but now, we learn that one of us was an architect of this grand religious hoax. You helped create this conspiracy. That means you may be the best person to help us control it, and the key to our victory."

"Control it?" Jaheira shoots her a withering look. "I think you mean destroy it. No?"

Minthara shrugs.

"We can hardly hold your past against you," Shadowheart says. "I understand what it is like to have gaps in your memory, to not remember who you are. I'm sure hearing it from Gortash was quite a shock."

"You could say that," Ziri says.

Shadowheart softens. "If you can resist your Urges, then surely you can resist the lure of past allegiances also."

"Believe me, I want nothing to do with Gortash or my father." 

"That's a relief," a feminine voice says. Then, Karlach steps forward from behind Minsc.

The air among the group instantly changes. Ziri straightens his back. "Karlach," he says.

"Soilder."

Ziri is quite tall—at least six feet—but Karlach is even taller, and Gale, who is standing beside him, feels every inch of it. Her arms are crossed, the muscles bulged and tense. Heat ripples off of her skin in waves, so hot, it distorts the air around her shoulders.

Ziri doesn't even flinch in the wake of it, which in Gale's humble opinion, is quite impressive. He keeps his hands loose at his sides, like he'll accept any blow without defending himself. "I'm so sorry, Karlach. I ... can't even begin to imagine how deeply I must have hurt you."

"Yeah." She lifts her chin. "Feels like a pretty big fucking betrayl."

Ziri winces.

She hesitates. "You truly didn't remember being chums with him?"

"Not until the coronation," Ziri says flatly. "But my ignorance doesn't make it right."

"You agreed to work for him." Her voice is furious, but tears of frustration well in her eyes. "You agreed to have us ally with the man who sold me to Zariel. Back at the coronation hall. You said—"

"It's only temporary," Ziri says quickly. "I only agreed so we would get out of there in one piece. I want to help you take him down, Karlach, I really do, but we need to be smart about it."

"The cub is right," Jaehria says. "It would have been suicide to try to kill Gortash in the cornation hall."

Karlach laughs in disbelief. "So what? We just have to wait?"

"Only for a little while," Ziri says. "My plan is to use Gortash and then betray him later, when we have the advantage."

"A solid strategy," Minthara says. "Make Gortash believe you still have an attachment, and then twist the knife in his back when he least expects it."

"Exactly. Preferably, after we take down his Steel Watch."

Karlach blinks, surprised. "Take down his Steel Watch? How would we do that?"

"By destroying the Foundry. He'll be more vulnerable without his clanking automatons around and if we can get him somewhere alone, without so many guards."

"It's a good idea," Wyll says, brow puckering in thought. "But how do you plan to destroy a whole building full of Steel Watchers?"

"I'm not sure yet. We would need to scope the place out first and make sure there are no innocents who get caught in the crossfire. We'd also need to find a point of entry without alerting Gortash."

"Ahem." Astarion reaches behind his back and pulls out a rolled up piece of parchment. "Perhaps this would help?"

Ziri glances at him in surprise. He takes the scroll from him and unravels it, the paper rustling. "This is a map of the Foundry. Where did you—?"

"I nicked it off of a certain someone at the coronation. It wasn't very difficult—not while Gortash was positively drowning in your eyes, reminiscing about your good old days of tyranny. Made it almost too easy for me."

Ziri is impressed. "But how were you not caught? All those guards and Steel Watchers were around. Not to mention that large crowd ..."

"You think you're privy to all of my secrets? Ha! Think again."

Gale crosses his arms. "You took an invisibility potion before coming in, didn't you?"

"Gale!"

Karlach laughs. The sound is wet and dismayed. "Take anything else useful off the greasy bastard?"

A smug smile tugs at Astarion's mouth. "Ohh, just a few little things ..."  He pulls out a small pouch and twirls it around by its drawstring. 

"Holy shit," Karlach says. "You took his gold?"

"Of course I did! What do you take me for? An amateur?"

Ziri laughs. He rolls up the map and pockets it for safekeeping. "That's great, Astarion. Thank you."

"Of course! It's about time you thanked me for my petty theft."

Ziri's smile fades as he meets Karlach's gaze again. His voice softens. "So ... what do you think?"

Her eyebrows shoot up. "What do I think?"

"Of the plan, yeah. We don't have to do it. I'll toss it all aside and if you'd rather run back to Gortash, blades, spells and fire blazing. It'd be ... difficult, but maybe if we're lucky, we can corner him alone in his room. We're going to kill him, one way or the other, but you're the one who has wanted this for so long. I want to leave the how up to you." 

Karlach steps forward. Gale's stomach twists at the intense expression on her face. Ziri's shoulders tense for a slap or a punch or worse.

Instead, she pulls him into a crushing hug.

"Oof!"

"I think it's a great plan, you old Bhaalspawn." She squeezes him even tighter, her voice thick with emotion. "I wish I had known that's what you were doing back there. I'm so sorry for doubting you."

"It's fine," Ziri says—wheezes.

"I can't stay mad at you. Not when you don't even remember the person you used to be. It's who you are now that counts."

"Hear, hear!" Minsc cries. He throws his beefy arms around both of them and squeezes them so hard, he lifts Karlach and Ziri off of the ground. "First we kill the metal clankers! Then we avenge Karlach, and free Ziri from Bhaal!"

"A fine plan," Jaheira agrees.

Karlach laughs. "Fuck yes!" she cheers.

"Indeed. Jolly good! Great plan, all around." Gale tries to smother his smile at the pinched look on Ziri's face. "Now that that's settled, do you think you can unhand my partner now, Minsc? I don't think he can breathe."

"Ah! Of course. We must save the embracing for later. Ziri has many figs to eat."

Minsc sets them both down. Ziri gasps in a deep breath, one palm splayed over his chest.

Karlach winces. "Oof! Sorry, mate. You didn't burn yourself, did you? Or fracture a rib?"

"No," he says, puffing out a quiet laugh. "I don't think so."

"Sorry," she says again. "I got a little carried away."

"Don't be. A hug is ... the last thing I expected." A pause. Then, "why do you smell like eucalyptus?"

Karlach blinks and then bursts out laughing. "Caught that did you? Fangs and I had a spa night last night. Gotta admit, I'm not used to smelling this, uh ... pretty."

"Excuse me!" Astarion pipes up. "Don't be coy. You loved my magic facemask."

"Magic ..." Ziri laughs out loud. "You're an immortal vampire. What use do you have for a facemask?"

"To brighten my already beautiful skin, obviously. Now, are there any other critiques for my skin care routine? Anyone?"

 "Huh," Ziri says. He cocks his head up at Karlach. "Your skin does look more glowy, I suppose."

She snickers. "Pretty sure that's from all the fire." Her smile slips away and then she adds, "Fangs brought up a good point last night. He said you were a slave to Bhaal just as much as I was to Zariel. I gotta admit, I ... didn't look at it that way at first. I'm sorry, soldier."

"It's really all right, Karlach. I'm the one who should be apologizing."

"I think we have all had enough apologies to go around," Jaheira says. "Now, wizard. Please tell me you can make something with all of these." She gestures to the gift basket, most distressed by the sheer amount of figs.

"Hmm." Gale strokes his beard in thought. "I suppose I could whip up something. A dessert, maybe? If I had some toast, ricotta, rosemary, and a dash of honey, I could prepare a delicious dish. Of course, a cake or a tart would be even better, but baking is out of the question without an oven present."

"A shame," Ziri sighs. "A cake sounds so good actually. I haven't had anything like that in so long."

"We could rent a room and see if they'll let us borrow their oven?" Shadowheart shoots Astarion a slight smile. "Perhaps on Gortash's coin?"

Astarion's eyes glitter with mischief. "My dear, you've read my mind." He jingles the coins around from Gortash's fancy, velvet pouch for emphasis.

"Hells yes," Karlach agrees. "That bastard can pay for a nice bed for all us."

"Then it's settled," Ziri says. "Let's pack up and get going. I'll, um. Carry the figs."

Gale smiles sweetly and pats him on the shoulder. "How gallant of you."

"Oh, I try."

Epilogue

The bartender at the Elfsong Tavern gives their group a deal on the entire upper floor for their help with a murder investigation upstairs. He also permits Gale to use the kitchen, as long as he uses his own ingredients. A better bargain than he expected, honestly. It's not as grand as his kitchen in Waterdeep, but he's delighted to work in a real kitchen again after so many months over a campfire. He bakes a lemon ricotta fig cake, one of his mother's famous recipes, and fig-jam crescents for the bartender as thanks.

Everyone splits off after dessert. Karlach, Shadowheart and Astarion disappear into the city to go shopping on the rest of Gortash's coin. The others stay in their rooms to relax or go downstairs for a drink. 

Gale and Ziri are one of the few who opted to hole away in their room. Ziri is currently sprawled out on his belly on the bed, his tail twitching behind him like a snake charmer's cobra. He's marking up the map of the Steel Watch Foundry, a plate at his side, finishing the last bit of cake.

"Mmm. This was so good."

Gale's heart swells. Not just with pride but with warmth to see Ziri indulging in something he enjoys—something other than what Bhaal tells him to. The mattress sinks as Gale sits beside him, stroking a hand down his spine. "I'm glad you liked it."

Ziri leans into the touch. He sighs and makes a pillow with his arms, resting his chin and peering up at him. "Really, that's it?"

"Were you expecting me to say something else?"

"Kind of," Ziri says, a smile tugging at his mouth. "I was expecting you to lean into the praise and tell me your mother's recipe is the best in all the land."

"Oh, make no mistake. Her recipe is not just singular in this plane. It is unparalleled in this realm or any other."

Ziri laughs. "There it is. I was worried for a minute."

Gale narrows his eyes without any heat. "I am known to be humble from time to time ... but not when it comes to my mother's recipes."

"And you shouldn't be. This was excellent."

"Glad you can admit it."

Ziri snorts, his eyes flitting down and returning his attention back to his map.

Gale rubs idle circles over Ziri's lower back with his thumb. He seems content so he keeps at it, his mind drifting.

He had actually been thinking about how he wanted to introduce Ziri to his mother. They could get to know each other over a home cooked meal in Waterdeep ... eventually, if they got out of this Absolute plot intact. But first, there's something else on his mind. Something that's been burning there ever since the coronation.

He hesitates, wondering how to bring it up, and then decides there's no simple way to ease into the conversation. Gale decides to simply take the plunge. 

"So! Since we have finally met Gortash face to face, I was wondering if speaking to him has perhaps sparked any, ah ... certain memories regarding your past?"

Ziri glances at him in surprise. "... Yes," he says slowly. "But you're not going to like it."

Gale breathes in sharply through his nose. He sits up straight, bracing himself. "It's all right. You can tell me."

He quirks an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. This is a safe space. I will react calmly and without judgement." He shifts, so he's sitting directly across from him on the bed. "Go ahead. I'm waiting—calmly."

That earns him a small snort. Ziri pushes himself upright, setting aside the plate and map onto the nightstand. "All right, well ..." He tugs at his earring. "I'm pretty sure he's my ex."

I knew it! I knew it from the way Gortash was looking at him ... practically undressing Ziri with his eyes. That preening opportunist. I'll crash a lightning down upon his Steel Watch. I'll send a Firebolt up his nose. I'll—

"I see!" Gale's voice is pitchier than normal. "That is ... wow! Goodness. Thank you for sharing."

"Uh-huh." A slow smile crawls across Ziri's face. "Now tell me how you really feel."

Gale spreads his palm over his heart and falls flat on his back with an agonized groan, like he's just been hit square in the chest with a chromatic orb. Ziri laughs and crawls over him, bracketing either side of his face with his elbows. "If it makes you feel any better, I think I stabbed him once."

"You know what? It does. I feel immensely better."

Ziri's laughter quiets to a chuckle, brushing Gale's hair back from his forehead. "Don't worry. I have much more distinguished tastes now."

"Mmm ... distinguished, you say?"

"Yes," he says, his nose brushing against his. "Distinguished, brilliant tastes."

"You're in luck then. I do try to maintain a certain standard of excellence."

Ziri tries to kiss him but just ends up laughing at Gale's jest, his breath warm against his lips. It makes Gale laugh too, stamping a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Ziri pulls back, just enough to look at him, his expression so warm and tender, it makes Gale's heart melt in his chest. And this time, when Ziri leans down to kiss him, their lips slide together easily.

Simple.