Chapter Text
The affair was far more refined than their more casual reunion almost two years ago, though it was no surprise that Wyll spared no expense for his friends. Visiting High Hall Palace as a guest had always seemed like simply a pipedream before. The only other time he had set foot in its halls was when their team infiltrated to present their evidence against Flayer Inc. to the Grand Duke.
So being invited this time as a guest of honor, Astarion thought to himself, was nice.
The ballroom was as grand as he expected, with all the high end touches and luxuries like the ones he was surrounded with when he was under the Szarr household. Only this time, he was able to actually indulge in the festivities as a welcomed party, free from fear.
From his vantage near the grand piano and settees, he could see his old friends making their way in through the back or chatting away and embracing one another as if it had been decades and not years apart. He plucked a glass of wine from a passing caterer, raising it to his nose with a practiced air as if he could tell the difference.
Alas, it still smelled sickeningly sweet, he mused to himself before taking a tentative sip. There was no rush to weave through the salivating thrall of reporters crowding his friends with a few cameras flashing. In the back he could see Wyll directing his security to, no doubt, reign in some of the more excitable paps.
Another sip and a look to his left to see familiar faces dotted around and smiled at a few caught in conversation. He’d kept in touch with most of them over the years in some form or another but always with a facade of it being unplanned and merely being in their neck of the neighborhood. The majority of their continued collective communications came in the form of multiple group chats divided based on who wanted to contact who.
Tonight was different, though, because tonight for the first time in years, they would all be in the same room. The first time they’d all be physically in the same space since the trial.
And the first time he’d see him again in a little under a year.
Suddenly feeling self conscious, Astarion looked down at his clothes: a smart dark crimson and gold designer three-piece silk suit, luxuriously stitched and pristine. No one needed to know it had been a gift from Figaro of Facemakers, free of charge. Most of the things he owned now came to him this way. But this gorgeous set was stowed away for only the most special of occasions.
The truth of the matter was that exposing a corporation's mind-altering technology to prevent an, what he perceived as a cartoonishly evil, organization from taking control of the city didn’t necessarily ensure a stable income or job security.
He reflected on how that day in the coffee shop had set the course for everything that followed. What was meant to be a routine lure and capture—one he had carried out countless times for Hunter—turned out to be his own undoing. Unbeknownst to him, Flayer Inc. scientists had been tracking him. The predator became the prey, and Astarion found himself kidnapped, implanted with a chip when he was strapped to a gurney next to others who would later become some of his closest friends.
That event, and the countless others that followed, would define him in the eyes of the public.
But aside from the occasional appearance and book signing, none of which felt like real work, he had done little with his newfound freedom.
Hunter was gone, and he was liberated from his master’s chains—free to spend his time as he wished. Yet, after two centuries beneath the thumb of a sadistic vampire lord, he found himself ill-suited to the life of a respectable citizen, much less one who could meaningfully contribute to society. He knew too well that their brief celebrity would soon fade, overshadowed by the next scandalous tale to seize the world’s attention.
Astarion caught his reflection in the mirror beside him, adjusting his suit and smoothing back the waves of his carefully styled hair. Yes, he knew he was beautiful—still savoring the confirmation of it—but tonight, he wanted to look his very best.
Was it a shameless ploy to make his ex-lover want him back?
Perhaps.
The pettier side of him still relished the thought of seeing Gale squirm under his gaze.
Astarion knew he had no right to be cruel—after all, it was he who had abandoned the man, slipping away from their shared home in Waterdeep in the middle of the night and leaving only a parting letter in his wake. It was he who changed his numbers, email address, and blocked him on all channels of communication—and made it known to his friends that any mention or message relays would have them blocked as well.
But it wasn't cruelty that guided him that fateful night. He’d convinced himself it was a mercy for his wizard—no, the wizard. He couldn’t bear to see Gale endure the relentless cycle of highs and lows, the agony that came with loving a vampire whose scars ran deeper than the flesh on his back. Gale had already escaped one unequal power dynamic with Mystra, and didn't deserve to be plunged into another.
Astarion, with his selfish nature and inability to maintain a healthy relationship, couldn't bear the thought of Gale wasting his mortal life on someone so broken.
He deserved more.
But when his eyes swept the room again, the sight by the stained glass windows struck him like a knife to the heart.
Clutching Gale’s bent arm stood a strikingly handsome tiefling man with ivory hair cascading over his shoulders. His dark eyes glittered with an unmistakable adoration as they traced the contours of his partner’s face as he spoke.
The most gutting sight of all, however, was that those warm brown eyes shone back with equal amounts of love for the other man.
Maybe more.
Astarion recognized that look, the slight crinkle at the corners when he smiled. It was the look that had once made him feel invincible, cherished, and whole... And now, it was directed at someone new.
Gale's smile, as beautiful as any Astarion had treasured in his memories, was like rubbing salt in the wound.
And they were stunning together. A perfectly matched pair—the longer he stared, the more the sight plunged his heart into the pits of his stomach.
His hand trembled as he lifted his wine glass, desperate for anything to dull the sudden, crushing ache. Bitter.
Hadn't it just tasted sweet a moment ago?
He swallowed hard, willing the lump in his throat to disappear. But as Gale threw his head back in laughter at something the tiefling murmured, he realized the cruel truth: He’d been a fool to think he could ever truly let the man go.
Watching the only person who had ever seen past his carefully constructed walls find happiness in the arms of another, Astarion understood the true meaning of regret.
No amount of repeating the same mantra, ‘He deserved more than me. He deserves to be happy’, helped quell the pain, either.
He drained his glass, wishing desperately that vampires could get drunk faster.
Tendrils of his past manipulative self crept back into his mind for a fleeting moment with an idea to intrude on their conversation. He imagined himself sashaying over with a flirtatious air, hoping to throw Gale off kilter and sputter adorably as he had done so when they first met.
But then the thought of being on the receiving end of the man’s indifference was a possibility he couldn’t bear — too much to risk. Instead, he fixed his gaze on Minsc's clumsy attempts to dance with Jaheira, desperately seeking distraction.
“Mr. Ancunín?”
Astarion’s gaze snapped downward, meeting Tara’s eyes as she stared up at him.
“Ah, Tara! Hello, my dear,” he replied, offering a polite, measured bow. It shouldn’t be a surprise that he still had the ability to communicate with the furry creature, but it still startled him a bit all the same.
The tressym gracefully leapt onto his table, tail swishing as she settled herself. "Not keen on mingling with your dear friends, are you?"
“I’m just taking my time making the rounds,” he said with a forced lightness. “I’d like to get nice and sauced early so I can excuse myself if things get too weepy. You know how it goes, darling.” He flashed her a toothy grin.
His quip fell flat against Tara's perceptive stare. Of course, she would see through him, she’d always been able to.
“I trust you're doing well since the last we heard of you?”
It felt like a scab being harshly picked at, but he held back a wince at her reference. Instead, he cleared his throat and nodded, making a noise somewhere between a grunt and a hum.
Against his better judgment and everything else that screamed him not to, the words slipped out of his mouth faster than he could think, “He looks well. I'm… I'm glad.”
He mustered a charming smile, trying to feign casualness.
The tressym glanced over at her dear friend across the room. Gale was now deep in conversation with Jenevelle, who was in the midst of introducing herself to his partner with an outreached hand.
“Mr Mabrus has been a welcome addition to the tower–”
The sting in his gut twisted further.
They're already living together? he thought bitterly.
But that wasn't fair. It had been a little over a year now and he had no right to feel this horrid. So badly did he want to set the goblet down and make for the exit, but Tara didn't deserve that kind of rudeness. A masked smile would have to do.
When he looked down, he realized she was waiting for a response of some sort.
“I'm sorry, I missed that last bit. Care to repeat?”
She gave him a careful glance up and down and sighed. “I only said that it's been rather pleasant having someone around Gale can rely on.”
Oh, how that stung even worse than the revelation and his heart clenched. He adored Tara, but after what he had done to Gale, he could hardly expect her to retain those warm feelings towards him. He deserved all of this pain and reminder of his worthlessness.
Why had he even come here?
“He looks happy. He deserves as much.”
“I won’t lie to you, Mr. Ancunín. He’s very happy—happier than I’ve ever seen him in years. But I do wish you the best, truly. As angry and disappointed as I was when you left my Gale so heartbroken... I understand your reasons.” Her wings dipped in a soft gesture of sympathy before snapping back with a hint of reproach. “Though the way you went about it... well, that left much to be desired. But it seems, in the end, things worked out as they were meant to.”
“Mhm. I can only hope this man is deserving of him.”
He set the goblet on the table and looked away from her, “Excuse me, Tara, it's the funniest thing, I seem to have forgotten something back at the car."
His words came out rapidly without much to mask the heartbreak seeping through. He bowed stiffly, praying she hadn’t caught the crack in his voice. The last thing he needed was for her to go flitting to Gale with tales of this pitiful encounter.
He turned and made his way and made his way towards the door leading to the kitchen behind the bar. His feet took him faster than he realized and he nearly ran into a bartender as he did so, with the other mumbling apologies in confusion.
As the swinging doors swung back and forth, Astarion turned back to glance through them, hoping no one noticed that gaffe. But as he did so, he caught the sight of Gale’s eyes for a hair of a second from a distance. He looked momentarily surprised, before being quickly pulled back into conversation with the others.
The kitchen staff eyed him warily at first as he moved through the room, their gazes trailing after him. Then, recognition dawned, and their faces lit up with delighted surprise. A few murmured hurried thanks, while others whispered quiet "we love you's" as he passed. He returned their greetings with a quick smile and a nod, never slowing his stride as he made his way toward the main hall.
Astarion would have to send Wyll an apology letter—or perhaps charm him with a personal visit later, he mused, hurrying through the halls lined with crushed velvet and down the broad staircase.
Down another hallway leading to the outdoor exits, a handful of lingering paparazzi caught sight of him, cameras flashing. He managed a gracious nod and a wave, remembering that his carefully crafted public persona was the closest thing to financial security he had left.
His mind raced with memories of his time with Gale—each one sharper, more agonizing than the last. He was so consumed by them, so intent on watching his own feet, that he walked straight into the broad chest of another.
“Astarion! My apologies—I seem to have lost my way looking for the ballroom.” Halsin’s deep voice carried a cheerful warmth despite their sudden collision.
The hippie druid had exchanged his usual earthy garb for a more formal ensemble: a dark green button up and brown corduroy slacks. Though far less extravagant than Astarion's attire, the simplicity of Halsin's choice was still charming. Astarion found himself suppressing a smirk, imagining Wyll's likely delight over such a modest transformation.
Halsin steadied him with a firm, yet gentle grip, his concern sharpening as he took in Astarion’s disheveled state. “Are you... leaving already? I’ve only just arrived!”
“Well, fortunate for you, you’ll still have the pleasure of my company soon, remember?”
“The Feast of the Moon is still a few months away,” Halsin noted, his eyes narrowing as he looked up at the staircase, gripping the vampire’s shoulders. “I assume you’ve had an unfortunate encounter with your former lover?”
“An unfortunate encounter? Who talks like that…” Astarion whispered the scoff to himself, then continued louder with a sigh, “I attempted to leave before he saw me…”
“Attempted?”
“Please, as much as I appreciate your relentless curiosity, I’d rather we leave it alone. I need to get back home. I can’t do this.”
Halsin cocked an eyebrow and let his arms drop to his sides. “I’m afraid I cannot grant that request. As your friend, it is my duty to ensure you do not retreat simply because of discomfort. You must move forward. Do not allow your insecurities to rob you of the company of those who care for you. It’s been far too long since we’ve all gathered in one place. I know you well enough to foresee that you will regret not being here tonight.”
“Right, well… I’ll just have to face my regrets later then. Excuse me.” Astarion began to sidestep the druid and push past him.
But Halsin suddenly planted himself firmly in Astarion’s path.
“Don’t think you can slip past me so easily, my friend,” Halsin smirked. “I’m more than capable of making a scene if need be.”
Before Astarion could protest, the druid’s strong arms lifted him off his feet with surprising ease and threw him over his shoulder.
“Put me down this instant!” Astarion demanded, flailing. “If you think I’ll make a fool of myself just to make a point—”
“I assure you, I’m quite prepared to make a spectacle of you if that’s what it takes to get you back inside,” Halsin said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “A grand entrance, perhaps? With you kicking and screaming all the way? I’m sure the gossip rags will love that.”
The firm resolve in Halsin’s tone was all too recognizable, and Astarion, realizing the futility of further resistance, went limp in the druid’s grasp.
“Fine,” he sighed. “You win. I admit it—I have been looking forward to seeing everyone again. Can you put me down now?”
Halsin set him down gently, his hands still resting on Astarion’s shoulders in a reassuring grip. “Good. It’s been far too long, and you deserve to be with your friends. And Gale is still your friend–even if it hurts to think of him as just that. If not a rekindling, at least part with the acceptance of the love once shared between the two of you… and be civil.”
Astarion glanced back towards the staircase. “He’s moved on, Halsin,” he murmured with a wobble. “And I can’t even talk shit about the replacement piece. He’s gorgeous. Might be more than...” He bitterly sighed, running his fingers through his hair.
But if he was expecting sympathy, it was quickly extinguished when he saw a look of mischief in the druid’s eyes.
“I have an idea. Why don’t we… enter together? To those who see us, it might appear as though we are newly bonded and we don’t need to correct them unless they ask us directly. Most will be too caught up in the evening’s festivities to even question it. It might also make your inevitable first conversation with Gale a bit more bear-able.” He chuckled, delighted at himself.
The vampire rolled his eyes at the horrible pun but quickly curled his lips into a wry smile as he considered the suggestion. “Halsin! I never took you for entertaining drama.”
Halsin laughed and shrugged. “One must adapt to circumstances, my friend.”
Astarion smiled back as his mood lightened. “In that case, I accept your plan. But do be warned—I’m going to be by you at all times tonight. It’s not merely for show… I just can’t be approached alone, especially not in the company of those inclined to stir shit like Jen or Minnie.”
“Rest assured, I would not dream of leaving you to face that alone. In any case, given the rather abrupt end with Minthara, I’m also going to rely on you to not leave me alone when she’s around.” He shook his head at an inner thought that Astarion could only assume was the memory of her smashing his car window after he suggested an open relationship. “Come on. The evening awaits.” He offered his arm to Astarion who gladly accepted with a nod.
"Darling, I could kiss you." Astarion smirked, lacing their arms together. "And I might. If only to make myself feel better when I see him again."
"I'll leave that choice to you," Halsin laughed, "But please don't think it necessary. Remember: We're simply here to enjoy ourselves, not cause a scene. Gale has done only what you expected of him-–there’s no need to cause any unnecessary added tension between the two of you.”
Begrudgingly, Astarion nodded in acceptance. It was annoying how right he was sometimes. He heard Halsin sigh. “Ready?"
Slowly, he gently led Astarion up the stairs, the vampire eagerly keeping pace until they approached the ballroom doors. He slowed his gait, before abruptly stopping in near panic.
Sensing his hesitancy, the druid lowered his voice, hand on the main entrance door. "All will be well, I promise. You're among friends. But," he raised an eyebrow, "if it gets too hard, we can leave. Just try to enjoy yourself first."
Astarion swallowed and nodded, "Very well. I'll do my best."
Halsin squeezed his arm reassuringly, and pushed open the door.
In the short time since Astarion had left, the room had filled up. There were plenty of unfamiliar faces—likely family members and acquaintances of his companions. He kept his gaze from drifting too far across the room, not wanting to risk meeting those devastatingly beautiful brown eyes just yet.
He thought about retreating immediately but as he nudged Halsin the other way, the taller elf pulled him back gently and patted his arm. Not knowing what else to do, Astarion broke out in a high-pitched flamboyant laugh.
It took the other by surprise for a moment before he realized what Astarion was doing, so Halsin quickly joined in with a hearty laugh of his own.
Through a wide exaggerated smile, he leaned down to Astarion. "We said we would not cause a scene, did we not?"
The druid waved to Karlach who was gleefully making her way towards the two with two drinks in both hands. Her braided hair swished playfully side to side as she danced towards them. A drunk Karlach would be hard to explain their little scheme to, and as much as it pained him to deceive his closest friend, he realized he had no choice.
"I know but I got nervous and I didn't know what to do with my face." Astarion responded through gritted teeth.
"Ah! Good to see you two, I was wondering if you were going to come back..." Karlach said, taking the two men into a brief, warm hug, careful not to spill any drinks on them.
"We'd never dream of missing this!" As he chirped those words out, Astarion could almost feel the side-eye glance Halsin was surely throwing at him. Just because he said they wouldn’t correct anyone’s misconceptions did not mean he was ok with directly implying it either, but he ignored that for now. "We had a small matter to attend to outside. How is everyone faring?"
"As good as one can be when there's a vampire in the room," Karlach chuckled, giving the man a playful punch in the arm.
"I see not much has changed since the last I saw you." He smiled, rubbing his bruising arm. A drunk Karlach also meant no pulled punches of any kind.
"Other than finding myself a home in this palace. Pretty nice set up I got here. Nice change from being deployed in one of the worst battlefield imaginable.” She took a sip from one of her drinks, and leaned into the pair, “I think Wyll will be asking soon, you know," the giggle that erupted from her was infectious. "But, uh, I see something's changed in your life?" Her eyes brightened looking at the elven men's arms entwined with one another. "Seems everyone's getting what they want. Good for you."
"Oh! Right. Well..."
"We are both very happy indeed. Much to be grateful for in life," Halsin interrupted with a grin.
The devil! Astarion thought. He knew the gentle giant could never outwardly lie so untoward to a friend, but by his logic he knew, he technically wasn't lying... this was just a clever omission of the truth.
"That's a relief," Karlach said with a grin, she turned to Astarion, "You and Gale both deserve a bit of happiness." She nodded to a spot just over his shoulder, and his muscles tightened, his polite smile barely disguising his tension.
"Speak of the devil!" she exclaimed, her gaze following a figure approaching from behind.
Astarion's stomach dropped the instant he heard the footsteps draw near, a cold sweat prickling his skin—a newfound indignity of his returning mortal traits.
"Pleasure to see you, Karlach! It's been too long—" That unmistakable voice sang from behind him, and his pointed ear flickered in response to hearing it once more in person. Playing back old voicemails and voice messages didn’t capture the true rich tones the wizard had.
Happy pleasantries swirled around him, but the noise quickly dulled to a distant murmur as his vision narrowed.
Astarion told himself he could do this.
He’d charmed and lied his way through centuries, veiling everything beneath a flawless mask. This encounter would be no different—or it had to be. It needed to be. At some point in the initial pleasantries, Karlach broke away from the group, dancing her way toward Wyll, bobbing to the beat.
"Gale! So good to see you, my friend!" Halsin boomed beside him, shifting them slightly to face Gale and his smiling partner. From this close, Astarion found himself unexpectedly noting just how tall Gale's new partner was—almost as tall as Halsin. All at once, the nostalgic scent of leather-bound books and sea air filled his senses, accompanied by the sight of those warm, tortured eyes that haunted his dreams.
“Hope you’re doing well,” Halsin added cheerfully. The best part of involving him in this little act was how believable it was to everyone around them. Halsin was never shy about his views on monogamy and, aside from Minthara, he was the sort to maintain genuinely healthy relationships with former partners. His casual, oblivious demeanor toward the tension between Astarion and Gale almost made it easier to bear.
Gale pressed his lips together for a moment, eyes darting between them as though searching for the right words, though he never quite met Astarion's gaze. In the end, he just nodded and forced a tight smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Yes and you as well…”
The tiefling man standing next to Gale placed his hand on the man’s back, causing him to straighten up a little. He cleared his throat.
Gale blinked. "Hm? Oh! I apologize, darling, very rude of me. This is Amos Mabrus…” he teetered off and it almost delighted Astarion to see his partner’s face momentarily fall when he continued rather than clarify what he was to Gale. “Amos, this is Halsin, the former Archdruid of the Emerald Clans Township, who graciously stepped down to assist us on our little fiasco a few years ago. And now a very renowned guest lecturer at BGU.”
“Not by desire and more out of favor, I assure you.” Halsin chuckled, shaking Amos’s hand.. Astarion could feel the druid pinching his arm as if to jog him into saying something, but before he could respond, Gale continued with a slightly lower voice.
“Amos, this is… Astarion. Our team's favorite vampire.” That voice saying his name again made the elf’s dead heart flutter. He hadn’t realized how much he missed hearing it in person. “Astarion, Amos.”
It would have been easier if Amos appeared rude, condescending, or had give him any sort of sideway look. Instead, much to Astarion’s chagrin, the man offered a genuine smile and held out his hand.
“Very nice to meet the both of you! Gale has told me so much about all his friends and I’m a little embarrassed to say I’ve read everything there is to know about your team’s work.” Amos’s voice wasn’t nearly as deep and sultry as Astarion thought it would be, but it was pleasant and sweet sounding. How annoying, he thought.
Astarion shook his hand with a practiced smile, briefly releasing Halsin’s arm before quickly finding it again like a lifeline. “Oh, a fan! A pleasure to meet you as well.”
Was that too much? It felt like he should have said less. When did talking to strangers start to feel like drowning?
He fixed his gaze on Amos, refusing to look at Gale for more than a fleeting second, though he could feel the weight of the wizard's stare. He didn’t dare meet those eyes fully—because if he saw anything other than heartbreak or some lingering hesitation, it would mean Gale had moved on.
And that was a reality Astarion wasn’t ready to face.
The conversation drifted to safe waters—how the school year had been, the weather's odd unpredictability in this city, the charm of the place Wyll had chosen for the gathering. Halsin fielded most of Gale's questions with his usual warm, easy manner, making a cognizant decision to almost be a barrier between the two talking directly. Astarion chimed in here and there when Halsin or Amos said something, offering the occasional wry comment, but his words felt hollow, even to him. For the most part, he sipped on his wine.
Amos had been quite likable. He was earnest, with a natural inquisitiveness that drew people in. His laughter had been melodious, his questions thoughtful without being invasive. There had been no arrogance in him, no artifice; just a man who had been easy to speak to and, annoyingly, even easier to like. Astarion felt the tension in his own shoulders loosen slightly, despite himself.
It was infuriating.
The minutes stretched on and every pleasant thought he had about the man felt like a betrayal, as if liking Amos somehow solidified his reason for leaving.
A halfling caterer weaved between the group while they talked, balancing a silver tray of canapés with practiced ease.
“Crab puffs, with a hint of saffron and dill and I have one last mini lobster roll,” she offered brightly. Halsin and Amos waved a “no, thank you” politely and continued their discussion.
Astarion absentmindedly reached for the same lobster canapé Gale did at the same moment.
Their fingers brushed ever so softly. It was nothing—just a touch, fleeting, like a drop of rain on the skin—but it felt like electricity surging through him. Astarion instinctively pulled his fingers back, and as he looked up, their eyes met and locked for the first time in over a year.
This close, he took in the sight that haunted him every night since he’d left: Gale’s silver threaded chestnut hair, trimmed beard and large brown eyes. Those same warm eyes that had once looked at him with such unguarded love was like seeing home but knowing he no longer belonged there.
They were searching, as if trying to read his very soul. And for a moment—just a brief, agonizing moment—he saw it: the same longing, the same ache he had been hiding behind his brittle smile.
Gale still loved him.
But the realization landed like a punch to the chest rather than a high from a victory lap. It didn’t feel gratifying in the least bit. He couldn’t ignore Amos, standing so close to Gale, his hand resting on Gale’s back in an easy, intimate way. The pale elf swallowed hard, breaking his eyes away from him.
There was a hollowness opening up inside him.
He wanted him back; Gods , how he wanted him back. But he knew that the desire was a selfish one. To give any hope to the other man wouldn’t be out of some grand gesture of love, but a need to fill a selfish emptiness and satisfy his own longing.
The small woman looked up, raising an eyebrow, and chuckled softly. “Nothing like a little competition!” she teased, and Astarion forced a smile to his lips. Perfectly said.
"You take it," Gale said, almost too quietly. “Please.”
Astarion hesitated, his fingers hovering just above the tray, and then took the pastry.
“Thank you,” he murmured, weaker and deeper than it had been in conversation. He wasn’t sure what he was thanking Gale for—the canapé or the reminder that he was still loved.
He took a careful bite into it slowly, a few pieces of flaky breading falling onto his lips. He licked them off slowly, trying to refocus on the conversation between the other two but felt Gale's eyes still on him.
Blissfully unaware of the tension crackling between them, Amos continued speaking with Halsin.
"Remarkable! So, druids have seen an unusual migration of owlbears this season southward? I wonder why that might be!" he said with earnest curiosity.
Halsin nodded happily, excited to have someone else be as enthusiastic as he was. "Nature always speaks first, we just have to listen. My student cohort has been tracking their patterns and a few precocious ones have already taken upon themselves to analyze the trends we’ve noted." He cast a quick glance at Astarion, sensing the anxiety beneath his composed surface, but said nothing.
The vampire wiped his hands on his jacket softly, dusting off the remaining crumbs but could feel his hands sweat. It was maddening how every part of him ached to step closer to the man across from him, to say something—anything—that might acknowledge what they had lost. But each time he tried to sweep his eyes toward Gale, he caught sight of Amos first, and it twisted the knife a little deeper.
When he finally managed to break past his guilt and looked in Gale's direction, he saw the other man trying to smile politely at what the other two were saying. But there was a tension around his mouth and a tightness in his jaw. Gale was no better at hiding his feelings than Astarion was. That, at least, hadn't changed.
Amos glanced down at his empty glass, then at Halsin and Astarion.
“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll find the little boys' room,” Amos said with a wink, “Or as I like to call it, a break to escape these fancy shoes for just a moment.” He smiled at Gale and pecked his cheek, “Back in a bit.”
Gale nodded, a tight smile in his lips and Astarion could see it was panic. “We’ll be here,” he chirped.
Halsin smiled at Gale and was about to ask him something or excuse both he and Astarion, but was suddenly met with a tug on his other side.
The drow.
“Halsin,” Minthara purred, with a slight slur, “I’ve been looking for you all evening. It’s been far too long since we’ve had a proper conversation since our last.” She turned her gaze briefly to Astarion with an acknowledging nod and then back at the tall wood elf. “Hope you don’t mind I steal you for a bit to perhaps rectify that?”
Halsin hesitated, glancing back at his date with wide eyes. “Minnie, I—”
“Hello, Minnie, darling! Halsin, don’t worry about me,” Astarion interjected, waving a dismissive hand. “I’ll survive without you for a few minutes.” His voice was light because he knew she couldn't be easily fooled. She gave him a knowing look, her smile deepening as if she could see right through the charade.
“Wizard. Faerie.” She said pointedly in what Astarion could only imagine was her form of a greeting.
Halsin sighed softly but agreed, “I suppose a conversation is overdue,” and let himself be led to the other side of the room
Whatever had compelled Astarion to let Halsin be pulled away, he immediately regretted it. Now, he found himself standing awkwardly beside his former lover, hoping Amos would make his way back soon.
The brief moment of silence and as if on cue, they both took a sip of their drinks at the same moment.
“Well,” Gale finally said, “at least neither of us are quite that type of ex.” He tilted his head, and Astarion followed his gaze to see Minthara pushing Halsin up against a wall, shouting at him with a fervor that made the large man nod dejectedly.
Astarion blinked, caught off guard, and let out a laugh—too loud, too sudden—but it was quickly joined by Gale’s own.
“No, no, we’re not.” His smile wavered and the weight of reality tugged down. “I think we’re something else entirely.”
Gale dipped his head slightly. “Yes. Something else.”
They stood there for a beat, each looking in the other’s direction but not quite meeting eyes. Astarion was about to excuse himself, finding someone else to speak to—it would be easy enough to justify—but before he could say anything, Gale interrupted, more quickly this time.
“So, how have you been, Astarion? Truly?”
“Other than having to shoo away reporters from my doorstep every morning? Just fine,” he replied, tipping his glass. “Learning to move forward, I suppose.”
“Same... I'm glad to see you happy." Gale nodded as he glanced towards the other two's direction.
Astarion stared into the red liquid. His eyes lowered, almost ashamed, before he finally confessed, “We’re not together, you know.”
Gale’s brow furrowed slightly, and he took a small step closer, “Oh?’
“He’s just my date for tonight.”
“Oh.”
Astarion’s grin turned sly, a teasing edge slipping into his signature tone. “My, the verbose professor brought to single syllable sentences! Things certainly have changed.”
Gale shifted his weight, glancing down at the glass in his hand as if searching for courage at the bottom of it. "How… how are the ring and the treatments faring?"
The vampire's fingers instinctively went to the silver band on his right hand, the one that allowed him to walk under the sun’s warm light. It was a delicate piece, finely wrought, a labor of love and magic—Gale had made it himself.
“Oh, they’re going well, as you can see,” the elf replied, “I’ve managed to stay in the sun without bursting into flames, so I’d say they’re a success. The treatments, too. I can even enjoy a good meal now and then. It’s been… liberating.”
Gale smiled widely, “I’m glad to hear that!” he said excitedly with pride.
Over Gale’s shoulder, Astarion caught the sight of Jenevelle from across the room. She raised an eyebrow at him and gave a subtle wave. It was enough of an excuse, and he took it gratefully. He set his glass down on the high top next to them.
“Well, I see our little ‘heart of shadows’ wanting to have a word with me. It’s… been good to see you —”
“—The ring needs to be refortified,” the other man blurted out, suddenly in near panic.
Astarion paused mid-step, turning back to him, “Refortified? Why? You never mentioned that before.”
The wizard’s hesitation was almost imperceptible, but Astarion caught it. He felt a flicker of doubt—was this true, or was it a thinly veiled attempt to continue talking?
“Yes,” Gale said finally, straightening himself out, “The effects can be dulled after a certain amount of time, especially with prolonged exposure. It needs to be… strengthened and recalibrated again, so to speak, or the enchantment will eventually break.”
“And how do I go about refortifying it?” he asked slowly with narrowed crimson eyes.
“I can do it!” Gale answered quickly—almost too quickly. “If you’d be willing to… allow me.”
Astarion raised an eyebrow, still uncertain. “I don’t know if I have the means to travel to Waterdeep at the moment…”
“I’ll be in Baldur’s Gate for a few months! Taking a break while school’s out for the summer and Amos is a native Baldurian, so we're staying near his family in the Upper City. If you’re interested, you can reach out. My number hasn’t changed so I’m sure one of the others can pass it to you. Of course, if you would rather someone else—”
“I still have it,” Astarion interjected and saw Gale's eyes widen, “I guess I'll see you around then. Ta."
He turned away confidently, no doubt leaving a sighing Gale in his wake.
It was a giddy feeling. And sure, he knew he shouldn’t entertain the notion, shouldn’t indulge in the small thrill that fluttered through him at Gale's words but he missed him so much.
Falling back into comfortable exchanges only made him crave Gale’s company more. It was a mistake, a foolish, reckless thing. But even knowing that, he found himself clutching his ring happily at the opportunity to see him again.
He could be friends with him, couldn’t he? They could find a way back to something softer, something simpler. After all, they had been friends first. Surely they could carve out some piece of peace between them. It wouldn’t have to be fraught with the old wounds or the pain of what once was. They could go back to being friends.
Just friends.