Chapter Text
The university is exactly as pretentious as Astarion has always imagined it to be. He makes his way through the high halls and old fashioned rooms, following Arabella's directions.
"Ah, an excellent question!" Gale's voice floats down the corridor. "We can play that through this simulation and see what we think will happen - any ideas, anyone? How will this change the pattern?"
Astarion knocks on the door.
"What?" Gale's voice is irritated. "The door is closed for a-" Astarion grins at him. "Astarion!"
Gale is evidently mid-flow. Above his desk hangs some kind of network of spellwork, an illustration of an ideal of some kind.
"Good evening, my love," Astarion says.
"It can't be that late, we-" Gale stops. "Ah. It's late enough to be dark."
"It is, indeed, late enough to be dark. Perhaps your students would like to be released?"
"Five minutes," Gale points him to an empty chair. "Sit." Astarion raises an eyebrow at him. "Please."
"I'll stand."
Astarion leans, languid, against the wall, perfectly aware that half the class' eyes are no longer on their professor.
Gale sighs, and turns back to his students.
"Alright, we'll resume this next time. Don't forget your homework this tenday is to conceive at least two potential spellcasting changes of your own and predict their outcomes. Please submit them at least two days before class, and we'll try the most interesting ones. Don't try them yourselves, unless you want your various internal organs to be scattered across the realms. This is theoretical work only. Anyone with questions, you have until Astarion gets bored. Class dismissed."
With a wave of his hand, the projection vanishes. As he begins to tidy his papers away, Astarion wanders over to him.
"I am sorry," Gale says, putting his glasses on the top of his head to rub his eyes. "I got carried away. It's a fascinating subject."
Astarion leans against his desk, arms crossed.
"Well so am I," he teases.
"True," Gale grins back. "And to what do I owe the honour? I was under the impression you'd sworn you wouldn't step foot on this campus unless under extreme duress."
"What, I can't decide to pay my fiancé a visit because I miss him?" Astarion is in full flirt mode; he turns his head to inspect his nails, tilting his head to accentuate his jawline, one more button than entirely necessary undone.
Gale raises an eyebrow at him.
"Anywhere else? Yes. Here, not so much. Oh- hang on." He turns to a student hovering hesitantly just beyond his desk. "Sorry Clara, did you have a question?"
"Sorry, Professor, I don't mean to interrupt but-"
"But here you are, so get on with it."
"Astarion," Gale warns.
"It's okay," Clara says, eyes downcast. "It's not that important."
Gale clicks his tongue at Astarion as she scurries off, head ducked.
"I already have enough trouble getting my students to talk to me about their studies, my love. You are not helping."
"Can't imagine why," Astarion leans back, resting his hands on the desk. "You're so naturally approachable."
"Well, I shouldn't think they're intimidated," Gale frowns. "Not anymore, anyway. When I was Mystra's Chosen, maybe, but now?"
"You're only the worst-kept secret hero of Faerun," Astarion agrees. "Half of them would watch you talk about paint dry, and I think I broke the hearts of the other half just by existing."
"Really?" Gale blinks at him, genuinely surprised.
"My love, you're young and attractive, passionate about your subject, and you've been known to bring your cat to work." He laughs. " 'Really' , he asks."
"Tressym," Gale corrects, as he always does.
As the last of the students trickle out, Astarion pushes away from the desk, grabs Gale's waist, and pulls him into a kiss. The door slams behind the last of them.
Flustered, Gale straightens his glasses.
"Astarion!"
"What? Don't tell me you've never thought about fucking me at work."
Gale opens his mouth, and then closes it again.
"Well, I have now ," he admits. "So thank you for that. But on the whole, I think I prefer the perfectly comfortable beds we have."
"Or the sofas, or the chairs, or the table, sometimes the floor-"
Gale pokes him in the chest.
"And now I'm beginning to understand why you came to fetch me. I suspect I have accidentally interrupted your evening plans."
"I was hoping to wine and dine you," Astarion agrees. "But we don't have much time for that now, it seems, so I'm happy to skip to dessert if you are."
Gale sighs, though he's smiling.
"You're lucky I love you. Fine, I'm coming home. I suppose I'll have to tidy up the rest of my notes tomorrow."
"Well if you're going to tidy them anyway you might as well make more of a mess of it first-"
Astarion has him pinned against the wall now, parting Gale's legs with his knee, hands under the edge of his robe. Gale gives up and pulls Astarion flush against him, one hand in his hair, yanking his head back to be kissed.
The door opens again- someone says 'oh' and it closes immediately.
Gale lets go of Astarion with a groan.
"Off. Home. Now ."
His blush doesn't fade until they're well away from the university. Halfway home, even.
"Did you see who-"
"No I did not," Gale snaps.
"I'm sorry," Astarion says, even half meaning it.
"You are not," Gale sighs. "You know I’m very open to trying new things, Astarion, but I draw the line at doing anything like that at work."
"Fair," Astarion capitulates. "I know it doesn't help, but that hadn't actually been my intention. I did just miss you."
Gale sighs.
"Right, and then you, what, saw my face?"
"And the rest of you," Astarion agrees. "You look irritatingly gorgeous in your glasses, you know. And the way you were talking, the way you do when you're enthusiastic. I'm not the only one who had noticed, either. Forgive me for being a tad… possessive."
Gale looks at him in astonishment.
"Astarion, are you jealous?"
"I… maybe." Astarion sniffs. "I know it's stupid, don't laugh at me."
"It's sort of sweet, in a way," Gale grins. "But really, Astarion - jealous of my students? If you miss me that much you can just come and sit in the back of my lectures."
Astarion sighs.
"You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"
"Absolutely not," Gale agrees. "Especially not given it inspired that little display which I am never going to live down, thank you very much."
It does, however, cheer him up. By the time they get home he's happily filling Astarion in on what the rest of the lecture had been about.
Tara has been spending the evening with Morena, so they have the tower to themselves. Which is probably why they don't make it upstairs. That, and Astarion's tendency to stoke the fires much higher than necessary, which had led to Gale taking his robes off to cook in just his trousers, which had led to Astarion coming up behind him to kiss his neck, which is a pattern they should both have come to expect by now but still has yet to lose its charms. Gale is beginning to suspect it never will.
Especially given that Astarion has certain cat-like tendencies which include but are not limited to lying in front of the fire at every given opportunity. In this case, on top of Gale.
"You are heavy," Gale complains. "I would like to breathe."
Astarion groans, and rolls off him.
"Breathing is overrated."
"For you, maybe," Gale, uninclined to actually go anywhere yet, turns towards him, hands finding his chest.
"Hmm," Astarion frowns, then leans over to lick Gale's neck clean, before kissing under his ear and pulling back again. "I might have been less tidy than I usually am."
"Please tell me you didn't get blood on the rug," Gale groans.
"I said 'less tidy' not 'absolute carnage'," Astarion protests. Then he frowns. "You're holding your neck awkwardly. I didn't actually hurt you, did I?"
The concern in his voice is sweet, but unwarranted.
"I am an old man at the ripe old age of thirty-three, as you are so keen to remind me, and I may have been leaning over my desk for too long today," Gale stretches, and something pops. "Agh, ow. I was joking, but apparently my body was not. Much as the floor has its charms, maybe we should try and keep this to a bed, next time."
Astarion huffs, a breath that is almost a laugh.
"Well, lucky for you I am a man of many talents. One moment."
He rises from the rug and wanders over to the bookshelves. Gale stretches out on his back, enjoying the view.
Astarion turns back, and groans.
"Gods, you're gorgeous."
Gale laughs, tipping his head back into the rug.
"I am sweaty and dishevelled and bleeding, Astarion."
"I know ," Astarion kneels over him. "It's entirely unfair of you."
They spend a little while enjoying the moment. There's something delicious about it, when it lacks the urgency of chasing the initial lust, when they're both sated and simply enjoying each other. At first, Astarion hadn't much seen the point in any of it; but Gale has been slowly working on the appeal of his 'old-fashioned romance' ways. Now, if anything, Astarion is more likely to initiate non-sexual intimacy and affection than Gale is.
Eventually, Astarion pulls away. Gale, reluctant to let him go, catches his hands in Astarion's hair.
"Stop that," Astarion hums. "Trust me, you're going to enjoy this just as much."
Gale raises an eyebrow at him.
"I doubt that."
"More, even," Astarion says. "Now roll over for me."
"Roll over? You want me to lie on my front - and not look at you?"
"Did I, or did I not, ask you to trust me?"
Gale, as usual, does as he's asked.
"Perfect," Astarion purrs into his neck, following it up with a kiss. "Now- is it just your neck and shoulders, or your whole back that hurts?"
"Neck mostly," Gale says, relaxing into the slight weight of Astarion sitting over his hips.
Astarion hums.
There's a shift, and the slight sting in Gale's neck fades as the healing charm pulls the wound closed.
"I don't mind you leaving that there," Gale reminds him.
"I know," Astarion says, a tease in his tone. "Next time, I will. I don't think you want me to get wax in it though."
"Oh," Gale hums. "No, probably not."
A moment later, Astarion's hands are smoothing over his back, working the warm, perfumed wax into his skin.
"Am I going to ruin the moment by asking you how you know this?" Gale asks.
"No," Astarion presses his thumbs into the knots in Gale's shoulders. He breathes, enjoying the pain and the release in equal measure. "I've never done this before. I found out about it in one of your more interesting books the other week, and I've been meaning to try it ever since."
"You learned this for me?" Gale says.
He can feel himself melting under Astarion's hands, smoothing across his back and digging into the worst of the pain. He groans, happily.
"Ssssh," Astarion breathes into his neck. "You keep all your tension in your shoulders, you know. If we didn't do something about it I'd only have about a decade more of bending you over the table before you wouldn't be able to take it anymore, and we can't have that."
Gale laughs.
"Ah, of course. Forgive me for daring to suggest you might have done something that wasn't even a little bit selfish."
"Anything I do for you is selfish," Astarion says.
"You know I've decided I don't like this as much as I thought I did," Gale says. "Because now I can't kiss you when you say things like that."
"You can just tell me you love me and I'm perfect and I'll be happy," Astarion says.
"You're better than perfect. You're you ." Gale sighs. "If you were perfect you wouldn't come and interrupt my lectures and embarrass me in front of my students, and I'm pretty sure I'd love you less for it."
Astarion leans against him, putting his hands over Gale's and pressing his chest to Gale's back.
"I love you too."
Gale smiles, Astarion's hair tickling his nose.
"Also that feels so much better, thank you. I'm going to fall asleep if you stay at it though."
"Oh no, I've not had nearly enough of you this evening for you to leave me alone just yet," Astarion says. He runs his hands down Gale's back to his hips before moving.
"Come on, you. Up. I have ideas to run by you."
"Oh?" With a yawn, Gale sits up, grabbing his robe from the sofa and throwing it over his shoulders, leaving the front open. "As always, I am at your service."
Before Astarion can answer, there's a knock at the door.
"You're not expecting anyone, are you?" Gale frowns.
"Here? For me?" Astarion raises an eyebrow at him. "It'll be for you, I should think. Do your robe up and answer it, I'm going to put some clothes on."
Gale sighs, and pulls the robe closed.
"Oh yes, because I am so fit for company right now."
Astarion's unrepentant laughter echoes down the stairs in his wake.
Half-expecting it to be Morena, and not inclined to make any more of an idiot of himself than he already will, Gale pulls his trousers on too and tries to make it look less like he's only been dressed for about ten seconds, smoothing his hair back into what might resemble something close to its usual style.
It is not Morena.
"Clara!" Gale says, surprised. "Are you alright?"
She nods, then stops, and shakes her head.
"I'm sorry, I- wasn't sure earlier, but I went home and now I am and- I didn't know who else to ask."
"What is it?" Gale frowns. "I take it this isn't about your studies?"
"No," the young tiefling agrees, miserably. "It's about Mystra."
Gale blinks. Grateful that if nothing else, Astarion is out of earshot.
"Right," he says. "Well. I suppose you'd better come in- excuse the mess." He steps aside to let her through and then closes the door behind her. "I would say it's not usually like this, but that would be a lie."
At least the room smells mostly of the lovely apple-smoked firewood Morena always orders, and the gentle perfume of the wax, rather than anything else. It's pretty clear what their evening had entailed, he knows, given the small piles of clothes on the floor and the lit candles, but he waves his hand and the clothes tidy themselves away, upstairs where they belong.
Clara stands just beside the door, looking wholly unsure of herself.
"Would you like some tea?" Gale suggests. "You look like you could do with a hot drink and a sit down."
Clara nods, mutely, and seats herself awkwardly, on the very edge of the seat he gestures her to.
"Who is it?" Astarion yells down the stairs.
"Student of mine," Gale yells back. "Shirt on , please."
Astarion appears, fully dressed, on the stairs. He takes one look at Clara, and then at Gale, and frowns.
"You give your students your home address?"
"I wasn't sure," Clara says, almost a whisper. "Most other towers are named after who lives here, and this one isn't, but I knew professor Dekarios lived in a tower because he mentioned he had an observatory in the top of it."
Astarion sits down on the far side of the table and studies her.
"Alright, clever clogs, what do you want with us?"
"Astarion," Gale says, warningly. "Be nice."
"I am always nice," Astarion growls.
With a sigh, Gale sits next to him, handing Clara a mug, and putting his hand on Astarion's knee.
"Don't mind him, Clara. We've reasons to anticipate much nastier types coming knocking. What is it you wanted to ask me about Mystra?"
"You-" Clara looks at him and then her mug, and then at him again. "Escaped her. Didn't you?"
Gale takes a sharp breath.
"You're one of my best students." He stands up, abruptly, and begins pacing. "Gods, I should have seen this coming. How long has she been contacting you?"
Clara cringes.
"Um… six years?"
"Oof," Gale nods.
It is not a surprise that Mystra had already been looking for someone to replace him a long time before the orb. A year ago, that revelation would have shattered him. Now, for better or worse, he's only surprised he didn't find out about it sooner. What bothers him more is that nothing that he did, nothing that he said, has changed the way that Mystra works.
It's not his responsibility, of course. Even if he had stayed as Mystra's Chosen, she would have dropped him in favour of Clara eventually. Sooner rather than later, probably. He wouldn't have been able to protect her, or anyone else that Mystra had set her sights on.
But part of him still feels wretched.
Like he should have done more to stop her.
"Right. Let me guess - it was fairly random and quite rare, until… ooh, about a year and a half ago. Then she started talking to you more?"
Clara nods, tears in her eyes.
"I didn't think- I didn't know what she wanted. But she started teaching me things. And now she- she's asking me to-" she takes a deep breath. "I want to say no. But I don't know what will happen if I do. I keep telling her I'll think about it, and I need time, and it seemed to work, but-"
Gale stops pacing, and turns to her, his expression torn.
"Clara, I'm so sorry."
The tiefling bursts into tears.
"Oh, shit." Astarion stands up, and fetches her some tissues.
"Right," Gale stands upright. "Clara, I'm sorry to ask if we can bring more people into this, but I'm going to need some advice."
"Morena?" Astarion asks.
"And Tara," Gale agrees. "They both saw me going through this, they know what it's like."
Astarion nods.
"Is that okay, Clara?" Gale asks, gently. "If you don't want anyone else brought into this, I understand."
Clara shakes her head.
"If they understand- my mum keeps telling me I should be honoured."
Gale hisses through his teeth.
"No," he says, "I understand where she's coming from, but no. You were right to come to me."
"Thank you," Clara says, shakily. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't think what else to do."
"Don't apologise," Astarion says. "I'm impressed you've held her off for this long. You're stronger than you look. If you want to defy her, we'll help. Whatever it takes."
Clara looks up at him in surprise, but Astarion is already turning away, finding Gale's sending stone.
"Forgive me for asking, Clara- how old are you?"
Clara looks at him miserably.
"Seventeen."
"Oh, gods," Gale says. "Early entry?"
Clara nods, mutely.
"She helped me apply."
"Of course she did," Gale sighs. "She does honestly want you to succeed - because she wants you to be as powerful as you can be, as soon as you can."
"I know," Clara whispers. "She told me so."
"Did she?" Gale sounds surprised. "Well, that's a new level of honesty, for her."
"She also told me what happened to you," Clara says. "But I don't know if- because the stories I've heard are different- whether she wants me to believe things about you that I'm not sure are true."
"What a-" Astarion swallows the word. "Am I allowed to swear in front of a seventeen year old?"
"Not when they're my student," Gale says grimly. "Do you want to hear our side of the story, then?"
"Please," Clara says, determinedly. "I want to make my own mind up."
Gale nods.
Astarion sits back down next to him, their knees brushing, shoulder to shoulder.
"Alright, well. In short- I loved Mystra. At the time, I believed she loved me too. I wasn't just her Chosen - I was her lover. But I made a mistake. In trying to prove myself worthy of her, I went looking for a piece of the weave that she had been distanced from, in order to return it to her. What I found, instead, was a piece of the Karsite weave. Not that I knew it at the time - all I knew was that I had lost the greater part of my power, and that what I had released had made its home in my chest. It was a fall from grace of epic proportions. Mystra cast me out for it.
"At the time, I assumed it was because of my hubris. Looking back, there was more to it than that. The Karsite weave had the power to destroy Mystra, for a start, but I was also far from the wizard I had been. In essence, I wasn't worth saving."
"To her," Astarion adds. "Some of us thought you were quite impressive enough as you were." He puts his hand around Gale's hip.
Gale smiles at him.
"Thank you, dearest. But yes," he turns back to Clara. "I eventually discovered the truth of the Karsite weave in my chest - mostly thanks to Astarion. Unfortunately, by the time I found out, it was becoming unstable. We were trying to get rid of the Absolute at the time. Mystra gave me a mission; to destroy the orb, and the Absolute, by sacrificing myself. In return, she promised me forgiveness."
"But you refused her?" Clara says.
"Sort of," Gale agrees. "What she wanted to do would have destroyed the whole area we were in, and all the people in it. I wasn't willing to do that. So I found another way. It still nearly destroyed me, but it meant that the others lived."
"But… how?"
Gale glances at Astarion, whose grips tightens on him, almost imperceptibly. Almost.
"Technically, I did die," he says. "Mystra is the one who gave me my body back. I'm still not really sure why. I assume because she needed us to defeat the Absolute. The only time I've seen her since was after we did so. The Absolute was an Elder Brain, being controlled by the Dead Three using the Crown of Karsus."
Clara blinks, like those are only so many words to her.
"She didn't tell you that bit then, hmm?" Astarion surmises. Clara shakes her head.
"The crown of Karsus is an ancient netherese artifact," Gale explains. "When the Absolute was defeated, it fell into the Chionthar. Mystra wanted me to go and get it for her, but I told her she could get it herself if she wanted it that badly, and… came home."
Clara is frowning at him.
"And you've really never heard from her since?"
"Not a word," Gale says.
"This was… a few months ago?"
"Five, maybe six," Gale agrees. "Why?"
Clara is breathing hard.
"That's when she changed," she says, hoarsely. "Mystra. She had been more demanding, after she lost you, teaching me more, but recently something else is different. The weave feels… different."
"Different … how?" Gale asks, warily.
Clara looks at him with absolute hopelessness.
"I don't know. I can't explain it. It's just… different."
Gale nods.
"Do you think you can show me?"
"I… would prefer not to. Right now. I'm sorry."
"No no, that's okay. That's good, actually, maybe it's a better idea not to touch the weave at the moment."
Clara nods, vigorously.
"Do you have any work due that you're not comfortable completing? I can speak to your other tutors for you. I won't give them any details, just that you're going through a personal situation and aren't able to for the time being. Your skill and work ethic is well-regarded. It won't be held against you."
Clara seems to breathe a little easier.
"Thank you, Professor Dekarios. At the moment, there's not, but if anything comes up, I can let you know."
"Do," Gale frowns. "I don't know what else we can do about this quite yet, but while we figure that out, that seems like a good place to start."
There's a knock on the door.
Morena and Tara are much better at providing comfort than Gale is, for which he is endlessly grateful. Tara curls up in Clara's lap, putting heartily as long as Clara keeps her hands to herself. Morena, for her part, gives Clara a hug and then holds her hand.
"I wish we'd had you around twenty years ago," she sighs. "My Gale was so taken by Mystra, it didn't occur to me to question it. We both know better now, of course, but goodness me, if we'd known then…" she shakes her head. "Well, we'd all be different people, I suppose, and as we're all happier than we've ever been, I don't think we can rightly regret it. But still, if only we'd been as perceptive as you."
Clara looks up at her, hopefully.
"Forgive me for asking," Astarion says, thoughtfully. "But didn't Minsc say something about hiding weave-touched boys? I thought Mystra had a type."
"Hmmm," Gale tilts his head, thinking. "I can't recall her having anything other than male Chosen, admittedly."
"I was, when she first met me," Clara says, quietly. "I wondered if, when that changed, it would change her mind about me. It didn't. At first I really liked that."
Gale sighs.
"The Gods' grasp on mortal concepts can be weak at the best of times," he says. "There are things I cannot tell you about Mystra, Clara, but suffice it to say that she is not interested in physical form. She has a type, but only when it comes to finding people. After that, she couldn't care less. Or, rather," he corrects. "She only cares when she's inclined to change it."
"Exactly," Clara says, miserably. "I don't want her to do anything like that to me. I like my body the way it is."
"Good," Gale nods.
Astarion is looking at him, his expression confused.
"She didn't… "
"She did," Gale sighs. "Let's not, please. Now is not the time."
"Noted," Astarion says. "I am filing that one away for when we've both had several glasses of wine."
Gale sighs, not quite a laugh, but an attempt at one.
"I've just had a worrying thought," he frowns, suddenly. "I don't think I've heard from Elminster recently. Has Mystra asked you to be her Chosen outright, Clara?"
"No," Clara says, miserably. "She just keeps saying I'll be ready for it very soon."
Gale stands up, abruptly.
"Sending spell," he says, by way of explanation, and goes digging in one of the cabinet drawers for copper wire.
The spell hovers in place for a long time. A long, long time. Gale isn't exactly sure how far he can push it, but it's not getting anything nearby. It's likely scanned the whole plane over at least three times when it finally gives up the ghost, fizzling in his palm.
"Uhoh," Astarion says. "Not good news for the wizard."
"He could be in another plane," Gale says. "With Mystra in the Astral, for example. It wouldn't be the first time." he stands, pacing. "He doesn't like the Astral much. Says time slips away too easily."
"It's not like time seems to apply to him much anyway," Astarion points out.
"Not the point," Gale says, agitated now. "Besides, he won't have much choice. If Mystra wants him in the Astral, in the Astral he will be."
"Well, if the Astral plane has cheese, he'll be fine."
"Astarion," Gale snaps.
It isn't gentle. It's loud .
Astarion flinches. A full-body flinch. He had turned from Gale, instinctively. As if Gale would have raised a hand, next. As if bracing to be struck. He hadn't been expecting it, and he hadn't been able to hide it; he'd been too relaxed.
For a moment, there is dead silence.
"I-" Gale runs a hand over his face. "I'm sorry."
"It has been a very long time since you raised your voice at me," Astarion says, the attempt at amusement falling a little flat. He's not as good as lying now - either he's out of practice, or Gale knows him too well. "That was my fault, too. We had this conversation, about pushing you."
"We also had the conversation about not shouting," Gale points out.
Astarion shrugs, standing to give Gale a gentle push in the direction of the stairs.
"Go on, you need to wash and breathe and collect yourself. We'll still be here when you're done."
"But-"
"Gale," Astarion says, warningly. "We can talk about it properly later. When we don't have an audience." He lowers his voice. "I promise."
Reluctantly, Gale goes.
Astarion returns to the table looking almost put-together.
"Fucking Mystra," he says, irritably.
"Language," Morena scolds, almost thoughtlessly.
"In this case, I think it's warranted," Astarion replies. "Right. I'm going to make tea."
He doesn't ask if anyone wants any. They're getting it, whether they do or not. Just so he has something to do that doesn't require him to look at them.
Then, upstairs, there's a loud bang, followed by what sounds like infernal.
If Clara's expression is anything to go by, it definitely was.
Astarion takes the stairs two at a time, and throws the door of Gale's study open. Gale is sitting on the floor.
"Darling," Astarion says, then, furiously; "That bitch."
"Don't swear at my students," Gale says, trying to right the Astrolabe he'd knocked off its perch and mostly failing. "Sorry, that must have made quite the noise. I just wasn't watching-"
Astarion helps him lift it back.
"I meant Mystra," he says, grimly. "Good thing you wanted me to have an artificer over to look at this thing soon anyway."
Gale sighs.
"I didn't expect this to throw me so much. It's just Mystra."
"It's not 'just' Mystra," Astarion says, snippily. "Would you ever tell me it was 'just' Cazador after my nightmares?"
"I-" Gale stops. "No. No, I wouldn't."
"Exactly," Astarion pulls his favourite set of robes from Gale's wardrobe. "Go on, go wash. I'll deal with this." He waves his hand at Gale, half-dressed, and the mess of papers on the floor.
Gale sighs.
"We have guests downstairs," he says, "You should be looking after them."
"Morena has adopted Clara already," Astarion says. "Besides, I have no idea how to look after children. Only you. And if you need me, everyone else can wait. If I go down without you I think Morena would scalp me, and honestly she'd probably be justified."
"She's not a child," Gale sighs. "Not anymore. That's the problem."
He's just standing in the middle of the room, looking for all the world like he's utterly lost, despite it being the place he spends the vast majority of his time.
Astarion gives up on trying to say the right thing, drops everything he's holding, and pulls Gale into his arms.
How long they stand like that for, he isn't sure. Long enough that he hears the kettle start to scream downstairs, and someone take it off. The voices murmur below them, perfectly content in their absence. Which is probably a good thing, because Astarion realises that Gale is crying into his shoulder.
"Oh," he says, quietly, "I'm going to kill her."
Gale laughs, wetly.
"Please don't. It's not worth the trouble."
Astarion sighs.
"It's no fun, not being allowed to kill people for you."
"You've killed plenty of people for me," Gale points out. "Deities, on the other hand, not so much."
"But she used to be human," Astarion says, thoughtfully.
"Astarion," Gale wipes his face. "I'm sorry for shouting."
"I know," Astarion grimaces. "Believe me, I think you feel worse about it than I do. I'm not going to lie, it was a shock. But I know you're never actually going to hurt me. It's just in the moment, my body reacts before my brain does."
Gale looks wretched.
"Which is exactly why I swore I wouldn't."
Astarion nods.
"Except I was winding you up about something you had specifically asked me not to wind you up about."
"But still,"
"Stop this," Astarion sighs. "It's like when I dropped the whole salt grinder in the soup. 'Oh well, that sucked, but it's too late to undo it, so we do better next time.' Okay?"
Gale snorts.
"That was terrible soup,"
"You didn't have to eat it!" Astarion protests, affectionately. "You weirdo."
With a little more gentle bullying, he manages to get Gale under a showerhead.
He sits on Gale's unused bed and turns the situation over in his head while Gale washes and dries and generally calms down.
"We need to figure out what to do, if not kill her," Gale says, eventually, looking and sounding much more like himself.
"I know," Astarion frowns. "I think before we do anything else we need to find out more about what's going on. Which, unfortunately, means we have to go downstairs and ask Clara more questions."
Gale grimaces.
"Oh good. Honestly, what she must think of me now-"
"Nobody else would have listened to her and understood the way you did."
"Mystra's not going to be happy that she's here."
Astarion shrugs.
"So far as I can tell, Mystra's never happy about anything. I say we give her a good reason to be pissed off for once."
Gale finishes clasping his robe and grins at him.
"What did I do to deserve you?" He asks, fondly. "Come on, we've left Clara with my mother long enough."
"Hang on, your hair is a mess, dear-"
"It'll dry just fine-"
Astarion ends up chasing him downstairs, protesting.
"I'm no more likely to let you braid my hair than I am to let you attempt to stab a Goddess," Gale is saying, as he steps into the kitchen.
"I think you are being unreasonable on both counts," Astarion sniffs. "I know it wouldn't work but that's not the point. I would find it highly therapeutic."
Morena looks up at them both, notes the change in energy between them, and relaxes somewhat.
"I'm not letting her smite you for the sake of your petty vengeance."
"I mean if I have to go, given the choice-"
"Please, Astarion, can you imagine what it would to do to me to have my fiancé murdered by my ex-lover?"
Astarion groans.
"Oh, fine . But only for your sake."
"Ridiculous man," Gale says, fondly.
"I dislike problems too complex to be solved by stabbing," Astarion complains.
"Well thankfully that's what you have me for," Gale says, retrieving something from the pages of a book on the shelf. "Although that said, I think we may need some extra assistance in this case."
He plops the book open on the table and rifles through it, marking a few pages with various random bits of paper strewn upon the desk. One of them, however, gives him pause.
"Astarion, how long has this letter from Wyll been here?"
"Hmm?" Astarion looks up from the kettle. "Oh, I didn't know there was one."
"Tara," Gale sighs. "When did we get a pigeon?"
"Pigeon?" Tara says, innocently. "Ah, now you mention it, I may have had some extra breakfast this morning."
Gale flicks his finger under the seal and blinks at the letterhead.
"Oh-" Astarion says, appreciatively, as he delivers Gale a cup of tea and a forehead kiss. "Now that's a fancy letterhead. Taking a break from Avernus at the Ravenguard estate, is he?"
"Mmhmmm," Gale skims the letter, as quickly as he can. Wyll has a lot to catch them up on, it seems, but the most important is that he's back - and he's not back alone.
"Not a truly permanent solution," Gale surmises. "But for now, it's a long-term temporary."
"Karlach's back in Faerun?" Astarion says, disbelievingly, "And she's not here ?"
"I know," Gale agrees, equally surprised. "Although, if I'm correct-" he gives the letter a little shake. It unfolds, in a particularly unusual fashion. Gale laughs, impressed.
"Wyll, that is a clever trick." He takes a few steps back and lays it out on the floor.
"A teleportation circle?" Astarion says, thoughtfully. "But he doesn't have anything from here, does he?"
"He can't cast a teleport either," Gale agrees. "But I can - a fact of which Wyll is well aware. This must have been either very expensive or very difficult to make, but it's a permanent teleportation circle on this piece of paper - an impermanent form."
He fetches a piece of copper wire from a drawer, and puts together a sending spell.
Sorry for delay - ready when you are .
"Oh," Astarion realises. "That is clever, why has nobody thought of that before?"
"They have, it's called a scroll of teleportation, but it still wouldn't work if Wyll didn't have something from here. That's not what this is, though - this is something else, and much harder to do." Gale says. "I happened to mention to Wyll it was the kind of thing I didn't find as much of a challenge as I'd hoped. He must have remembered."
"Of course," Astarion rolls his eyes. "If you hurt either of them, I will make you sleep on the sofa."
"We don't have a sofa," Gale protests, amused. "And I'm not conjuring one just so you can pretend to shun me for some imagined slight."
"Hang on," Morena says. "Are we about to have more guests?"
"Oh yes," Gale says. "Sorry, I should have clarified - Karlach and Wyll are coming. Excellent timing, too. If there's anyone who can help us out with this then it's them. Is that alright, Clara? They don't have to know exactly what's happening, and you don't have to be here for the conversation."
"No, I want to," Clara says, determinedly. "You mean Wyll Ravenguard, don't you?"
"Indeed," Gale nods. "The rumours of what we got up to in Baldur's Gate are more comprehensive than I suspected, it seems."
"Oh, you have no idea ," Astarion agrees. "I told you your students are all starstruck."
"Did you really kill Loroakan?" Clara asks, almost shyly, which makes Astarion laugh.
"Most of the credit for that has to go to Aylin. We did steal very useful books from his supposedly high-security vaults though."
Gale smiles, remembering that particular one fondly.
"Dame Aylin?" Clara looks, if possible, even more impressed. "Daughter of Selune ?"
"I don't know any other aasimar called Aylin," Astarion confirms. "Although admittedly, I don't know any other aasimar."
Wyll must have been waiting for him, because that's when Gale gets a response.
Slowpoke. We're packed.
"Right," Gale says. "They're ready. Let's see how many people we can fit in this kitchen, shall we?"
He turns to the circle and casts the spell, drawing the portal into being.
"Hang on," Astarion frowns. "How can they, if Wyll doesn't know teleport? Karlach certainly doesn't."
Gale grins.
"Do you remember how we very first met, Astarion?"
"You mean when I pulled you out of your own botched portal?" Astarion grins. "Darling, how could I ever forget?"
Gale sticks his hand through the shimmering portal.
Wyll grabs his hand immediately. Gale recognises his grip; the surety of it, and his father's signet rings. He pulls, and Wyll steps through the portal. A step behind him, holding onto his elbow, is Karlach.
"Hello!" Gale says. "Welcome to my humble home-" he gets no further before Wyll pulls him into a hug so tight it's hard to breathe.
"Gale! It's so good to see you!"
"You're telling me!" Gale grins. A moment later, Karlach has lifted him bodily off the ground.
"Gale!" She tells, jubilantly. "You look so much better now you're not dying!"
"As do you!" Gale grins. "You have to tell us all about it!"
"And Astarion!" Karlach interrupts, even more delighted. "You're back from the underdark!"
Astarion grins.
"I hope you gave Zariel all our love," he says, then yelps as Karlach gives him exactly the same treatment she'd given Gale, even more enthusiastically. Gale pats Wyll's shoulder, inspecting his friend and glad to find him in good health and spirits.
"Oh, all of it," Karlach is saying, "By the spadeful, until she was six feet under."
"Excellent," Astarion grins. "Now put me down, this is a new shirt and I will not have you creasing it."
"You haven't changed at all," Karlach sounds delighted.
"I'm sorry it took me so long to get that set up," Gale says to Wyll. "I didn't find the letter until just now because somebody ate the pigeon."
"Not Astarion?" Karlach says, disbelievingly.
"No not me," Astarion snaps. "I will have you know I am on a much more pleasant diet than stray pigeons, thank you very much."
"Good," Karlach glares at Gale. "You better be looking after him properly."
"Karlach," Astarion protests. "I do not need looking after, you know perfectly well. Not that Gale hasn't been trying anyway."
Gale laughs, but Wyll has now had a chance to take in their surroundings properly, and notice that they are not alone.
"I didn't know you'd have guests," He says, bowing to the others.
"Right," Gale remembers. "Morena, this is Wyll and Karlach, who I've told you so much about. Wyll, Karlach, this is my mother, Morena."
"Apologies, for our rather rude intrusion."
"No apologies necessary!" Morena stands, and returns his bow. "An honour, Saer Ravenguard."
"The honour is all mine, Morena," Wyll says. And Morena, to Gale's astonishment, actually giggles.
Gale coughs.
"Right, you've all met Tara, of course, and this is Clara, one of my students. I'm afraid you've arrived somewhat in the middle of an incident."
"Tara and Clara," Karlach grins. "Nice. Who are we murdering now?"
"We're not murdering anybody," Gale says, warningly. "But we might have a bit of a Mystra situation."
"Again?" Wyll says, as close to irritated as he ever gets, which is still less than Astarion's base level. "She just cannot live and let lie, can she."
It takes a surprisingly long time to explain the situation. Mostly because Clara keeps looking like she's about to burst into tears, and Gale keeps stopping to tell her she doesn't have to sit through this if she doesn't want to.
Eventually, they all give up. It is late, and there have been long days all round.
"I can walk you home, Clara," Astarion offers.
"I'll make up the spare bed in my study," Gale gets to his feet, then turns to Wyll and Karlach. "I do apologise, we're not really set up for guests-"
"Don't be silly," Morena interrupts. "I have a whole guest suite, and I only live down the street! It's much more sensible for Clara to stay here and for Wyll and Karlach to stay with me."
Astarion studies Clara.
"You'd rather not go home?"
Clara shakes her head.
"I know it's silly, but it's where Mystra knows where to find me."
"That's not silly, that's perfectly sensible," Gale agrees. "Alright- Karlach, Wyll, if that's okay with you?"
"Of course," Karlach agrees immediately. "Don't worry, kid. We won't let Mystra have you."
Gale goes up to his study and tidies up the few of his personal affects that haven't migrated down to Astarion's room. Though he hasn't slept in the bed for months, he puts fresh sheets on it. When Astarion brings Clara up a little later, he gives her a stern look.
"Do not touch anything without my express permission. Alright? Even I'm not sure what some of these books are capable of, and I do not want to find out by peeling you out from between the floorboards."
Clara nods, meekly.
"I've already pinched all the good ones anyway," Astarion says, cheerfully.
"Astarion!"
He rolls his eyes.
"Fine- borrowed, permanently, pending agreement of part-ownership indefinitely given that you keep refusing to set a wedding date."
"Oh," Gale stops. "I was so pleased to see Wyll and Karlach, I forgot to mention that!"
"One big dramatic event at a time," Astarion says. "Clara, you need anything, we're the door directly below yours. If you go up any further the architecture starts getting weird, don't go unless you're with Gale. It likes him, for some reason, and lets him go where he wants."
"It likes you too, it just doesn't like how little you respect the peace and quiet of my Observatory," Gale corrects. "If Clara's quieter than you are, it might let her up. And if you're hungry, Clara, the pantry's in the basement. Help yourself to anything you like, just let me know so I can take it into account when I'm cooking."
He yawns, and Astarion drags him off downstairs, leaving Clara in peace.
"Gods, it must be the early hours of the morning by now." Gale yawns again, as Astarion tucks in next to him, twining their legs together and resting his head on Gale's chest. "Oh, and I haven't done my prep for tomorrow morning yet."
"Well, you'll just have to make it up as you go along now," Astarion says. "I'm not getting up until you're asleep."
And Gale, his eyes aching, puts his face in Astarion's hair and promptly dozes off.