Chapter Text
Astarion shivered as another icy breeze slipped through the cracks in his tent and swept over him. His hands grasped to clutch at the blanket draped across his shoulders. He could barely feel the soft woolen fabric from how numb his fingertips had become.
His current lodging with his companions happened to be settled alongside a mountain, and with high mountain altitudes came lower temperatures and cold winds. For the others, this wasn't a major issue. So long as they had firewood and sufficient coverings they could fend off the chill relatively well. Hell, he doubted that Karlach was even capable of feeling cold given her condition. Things were hardly so easy for Astarion, though, as he lacked one crucial thing his fellow adventurers were fortunate enough to have: Natural body heat. One of the many downsides of his vampiric nature meant that he didn't produce any body heat of his own. No body heat meant no temperature regulation, leaving him entirely susceptible to the bite of the cold.
He could ask the others for assistance, he thought to himself. The mere thought was met with a grimace. Not only would that require him to move and sacrifice the little bit of heat he'd managed to store within the confines of his blanket, it also meant that he'd have to show weakness. Disgusting. He'd rather freeze to death than ever admit that he needed help, and at this rate he was probably going to.
He could hear the clinking of spoons and bowls from outside accompanied by the soft murmurs of voices. The others were most likely having their dinner, enjoying whatever Gale managed to create with their scavenged ingredients. At the mention of food, he suddenly became acutely aware of his own hunger gnawing at him. He knew he should go out to hunt, but he just couldn't bring himself to. Not now. It was far too cold now. He'd go hunt sometime tomorrow afternoon, he decided. It would be warmer then. Besides, he had gone much longer without eating before under Cazador; this was practically nothing in comparison.
Astarion shut his eyes and pulled the blanket taut around him, shuffling until he was comfortable. Might as well try to get some rest.
. . .
Just as he began to fall into his trance, Astarion heard shuffling from outside his tent. His brows furrowed, but he made no effort to open his eyes, instead shifting his ears to get a better grasp of the sound.
Heavy footsteps approaching his tent flap, but not as heavy as Karlach's. It couldn't be Lae'zel, either. The githyanki walked everywhere as if she had somewhere to be. Her steps were always precise and meaningful; These footsteps were far too relaxed. They also lacked the distinctive jingle of Shadowheart's chainmail, which left Astarion with only two choices. It was only then did he pick up on the sound of swishing fabric with each footfall. It sounded like-
"Astarion?"
-Gale. Astarion sighed, glaring at the entrance where the other man stood currently. "Yes, wizard?" He grumbled, not bothering to hide the hint of annoyance in his words. Of course Gale would be the one to notice his lack of presence. He should have expected as much. The man was infuriatingly attentive to everyone's needs, always playing the role of the caretaker.
"Can I come in? I just want to make sure you're alright, is all." Gale's voice was unnaturally quiet, soft and gentle in a way that dug into Astarion and made his skin crawl from how dreadfully sweet it was. He didn't need his pity. He had half a mind to snarl at Gale, bare his fangs and tell him to just leave him the fuck alone, yet the words never came out.
Instead, he found himself saying, "Will it keep you from bothering me again?"
"..." There was no response. Not immediately, at least (which might as well have been no response with how fucking [i]talkative[/i] the wizard was). Astarion got ready to make some snarky comment before Gale cut him off.
"For the time being, yes," he said.
What kind of a response was that? Astarion huffed out a dry laugh of indignation at the sheer audacity of this man. It would've been endearing if he wasn't such a nuisance. He sighed, barely fighting back yet another shiver.
"Fine. Do make it quick." The words had no sooner left his mouth before he immediately regretted letting the wizard into his personal space.
The front flap to the tent opened with a swish as Gale walked in, letting it fall behind him. He only glanced briefly at the tent's contents, his primary concern being Astarion's wellbeing. His brows furrowed as his eyes swept over the vampire's huddled form. Astarion was sure he looked ridiculous like this, all bundled up and crouched on the ground like a small child. The thought had him subconsciously pulling the blanket even tighter around himself. He could see the gears turning in Gale's head as the mage tried to figure out why he was holed up in his tent like this.
"...It's cold," he mumbled before Gale had a chance to ask.
Gale blinked. "Well, yes, it is in fact quite nippy out, but..." He took a step closer, causing Astarion to flinch instinctively. If Gale noticed, he didn't say anything about it. "That still doesn't explain your absence this evening."
Astarion groaned quietly. "You can be so irritatingly dense sometimes," he huffed. "The cold and I don't exactly get along, darling," he quipped through a forced grin.
The wizard's eyebrows furrowed deeper for a moment before it finally clicked. "Right, of course! You are classified as an undead being due to your vampiric nature, so you don't produce body heat like the rest of us do. Naturally that leaves you incapable of maintaining a state of homeostasis and thus more heavily affected by lower temperatures. An interesting thought, though also a very poor oversight on my end-"
"Gale."
Gale stopped mid-ramble, looking down at Astarion with raised eyebrows. "Yes?" Astarion merely glared back at him with a look that showed nothing but disinterest and annoyance. "Erm... Right." Gale smiled sheepishly and cleared his throat. "Going back to the predicament at hand, do you..." He trailed off as he tried to think. "I could bring you to the fire? I'm sure that would-"
"No!" Astarion practically shouted the word out, his eyes wide in panic. His outburst caught Gale off guard. The elf cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to sink down further into himself. "I-I mean, no thank you. I'm quite fine right here." I don't want them to see me like this. That thought went unspoken, but Gale gave him a look as if he knew already. It made him feel weak, having someone be able to see through him so clearly.
"No campfire then." Gale rubbed at his beard as he stared at the ground. Astarion watched him through his peripheral, growing more antsy as the silence dragged on. Gods, even his thoughts are loud, he thought to himself wryly. He almost jumped when Gale began to move again, though this time he had enough willpower to fight the reaction back. His eyes never left Gale's form as he sat down in front of him. The snapping of his knees and the groan that followed got a chuckle out of Astarion.
"Old man," he teased.
"Quite," was all Gale grumbled in response.
He shuffled until he was comfortable, putting his hands out in front of him. Astarion watched with mild intrigue. After a moment, that familiar white glow emanated from his hands and eyes as he manipulated the weave, moving his hands in a practiced series of motions. Astarion's eyes widened slightly as he watched. There was something so captivating about the way Gale casted his spells (he would never say that out loud, especially not to Gale's face. Gods know his ego was big enough as is).
"Flammula."
With an utterance of a phrase foreign to Astarion's ears, a glowing ball of fire burst into existence. The once dull tent lit up in hues of oranges and reds, colors that contrasted nicely with Gale's complexion. Astarion couldn't help but allow his eyes to wander across the other's face, taking in how the light accentuated every crease and wrinkle, each little detail that showed signs of his aging. It was... Oddly captivating.
Gale had always been an attractive man. Attractive enough that he had nearly caught Astarion's interest when he was first pulled out of that portal—only for said interest to get squashed the moment the human opened his blabbering mouth. Gale had annoyed him to no end for much of the beginning of their adventure, but at some point that he couldn't pinpoint that annoyance had shifted to something almost fond. What a fickle thing it was, growing to care for others.
Belatedly, he realized his shivering had mostly ceased for the time being, the warmth from the ball seeping into his skin rather quickly. Most likely a result of it being magic fire as opposed to natural, he mused. He slowly shifted the blanket until his right arm was freed, hovering his hand above it with hesitation.
"Go on," Gale whispered. He held the fire out a little closer to the elf, encouraging him to touch.
With that, Astarion caved to his curiosity and cupped his hand over the top. "Oh!" he gasped.
It wasn't searing hot like he was expecting it to be. It was significantly more pleasant. The flames flickered around and through his fingers as he rested his hands on its solid magic center. The softest laugh slipped through his lips at how it tickled. Gale made no comment, though the corners of his mouth twitched in a smirk. Silence fell over them for a while, the continued chatter of their companions filtering inside to fill the space.
Gale was the first to break it. "I could teach you how to cast it," he said softly.
His voice was enough to snap Astarion out of his awestruck trance. "...What?" He blinked.
"This spell," Gale held his cupped hands up a little higher, "I could teach it to you. I won't always be able to cast it for you, so it would be highly beneficial for you to learn how to cast it in my stead."
Astarion instinctively made a face at this, bringing his hand back into the confined of his blanket. "You-" He stopped himself mid-thought. Gale had a point. He couldn't rely on Gale to cast the spell for him all the time. "Ugh, fine," he groaned, leaning forward to rub at his eyes with the heels of his palms. "Hells below, I can't believe you talked me into learning magic."
Gale chuckled at his indignance. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen," he teased. There was no ill intent behind his words from what Astarion could tell. The spell dissipated with a casual wave of the human's hand before he sat up straight. "Are you able to flex your fingers?" he asked.
Astarion begrudgingly pulled his hands back out of his blanket and held them up, bending his fingers in a wordless response. It was more difficult than it would normally have been because of how the cold bit into his joints, but it was manageable.
Gale seemed to be satisfied by whatever range of movement he saw because he nodded. "Good. I'm glad to see the cold hasn't taken away those skilled hands of yours."
Astarion couldn't help the grin that spread on his face. "Oh?" He raised an amused brow at him as he spoke.
Gale's face paled as he realized his mistake. "Wait-" He tried to correct himself, but he was a moment too late.
"So you've been paying attention to my hands, have you?" Astarion purred, words dripping with faux honey as he leaned in ever so slightly. He took great delight in the way Gale's face bloomed with heat.
"Astarion, that is not what I meant and you know it."
Astarion laughed and leaned back. "I know, darling, I just can't help it. You're too easy to tease!" Gale huffed, yet he made no attempt to retaliate.
"Ahem. Now, I am going to show you the motions piece by piece. I want you to mirror what I do." Gale waited expectantly for some kind of affirmation, which the elf gave in a simple eye roll and a nod.
Astarion watched intently as Gale showed him the motions slowly, following along as best he could. His hands formed a square, which snapped shut; then he pressed his palms together — first parallel to his torso, then perpendicular — and released them as he spoke the key word. Once again, the orb came into existence in his palm. It seemed easy enough. The elf took a deep breath, even if he didn't need it, and stretched out his fingers, closed his eyes. He then proceeded to repeat the motions.
"Flammula."
...
Nothing. Astarion opened his eyes and furrowed his brows. Not even a hint of the weave to be found. Did he not do it right? He looked to Gale, who only gave him an encouraging nod.
"It may take a few attempts to get it right. Try again."
Astarion sighed, repositioning his hands back to the starting place. He focused his energy a little more this time, did what he could to try to draw upon those tendrils of the weave.
"Flammula."
This time he felt a slight zap in his fingertips, but other than that there was still nothing. He tried again without Gale's prompting this time. His frustration only grew as the spell failed again.
And again.
And again.
...This was stupid. Fucking stupid.
Astarion could feel the tears begin to well in his eyes. He clenched his jaw and inhaled imperceptibly shakily, doing everything he could to will himself not to cry. Fucking bullshit. He could sneak through shadows as if he were one with them, he had the grace of a feather and his bladework was immaculate, and yet he couldn't even cast a simple godsdamned spell? It shouldn't be this difficult. How in the hells was Gale of all people able to one-up him? It was stupid. Magic was stupid. He was stupid. It was all just absolutely, positively, stupid-
A warm touch on his knee pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts. He blinked a few times, staring at the placement of Gale's hand for a moment before he trailed his gaze up to his face. He almost immediately regretted doing so. Gale looked at him with such raw care and concern. He felt like someone had crushed him under a beam from how tight his chest grew.
"You're drifting," The mage mumbled. His voice was barely above a whisper, yet Astarion heard him clear as day. "Stay focused. You're doing wonderfully. Just a little more, alright?"
Something in his words had Astarion nodding along dumbly before he could really think.
"Good." His thumb rubbed small circles into the side of his knee before he pulled it away entirely. It took everything in Astarion to fight back the way that little bit of contact made him feel.
"Now, let's try that one more time." Gale continued before Astarion could protest,"I think I know what the issue is."
Astarion huffed, but Gale simply ignored him and continued. "You're too focused on copying my exact moves." The mage held a finger up right as Astarion opened his mouth (the audacity!). "Yes, the somatic components are important, but casting works best with one's own personal touch. Do what feels natural. Add your own 'flair' to it, if you will." He smirked, "Gods know you're quite good at that."
The vampire scoffed and rolled his eyes, yet the smile on Gale's face was infectious. Astarion swatted a hand in Gale's direction. "Alright, you oaf. Hush up so I can focus."
He shifted his sitting position and closed his eyes, refocusing that energy back into his being. Add his own flair, Gale said. He could do that. A sharp flick here, a soft wave there, and...
"Flammula."
Immediately, an orb of fire and magic burst into being in front of him, settling nicely into the palm of his hand. Astarion could only gasp, wholly entranced by the magic before him. Magic that he created.
The feeling of the weave thrummed through him. It was as if there were the hint of a pulse in his lifeless veins, perhaps a rush of fresh air in his useless lungs, all only for a fleeting moment. A whisper of a memory; of what he once had. He had never felt anything like it in his working memory.
It made him feel alive.
"...I did it." He laughed giddily. "By the gods, I actually did it!" His gaze met Gale's as he looked up, stopping him in his tracks.
The wizard looked at him like he were something precious. Every ounce of his pride and happiness seeped out of him through just his eyes alone. Nobody had ever looked at him with such fondness before. Time slowed to a near stop around them, and Astarion found himself struggling to breathe despite not needing to.
The orb of magic flame warmed him, but Gale's face warmed him even more.
Astarion was quick to look away first, focusing back on the ball of light to distract himself from those wretched feelings that bubbled within him. Luckily for him, Gale didn't seem to notice his change in demeanor. Either that, or he was kind enough not to mention it.
"Wonderful." The praise came out light and airy in a way Astarion hadn't heard before. He was so very thankful in this moment for the lack of blood in his system, because otherwise he was sure he would be bright red. Gale continued, still none the wiser, "Will you be alright by yourself?"
The question brought Astarion back to his senses enough to regain character. "I'm not some helpless damsel, Gale. I'll be fine," he quipped in his usual standoffish manner.
Gale laughed. "Never said you were, friend. I was just being sure." The mage pressed his palms against the dirt and pushed himself up, bones and joints clicking and popping enough that even Astarion cringed.
"Hells, does that not hurt?"
Gale shrugged. "It can. Just a part of getting old, unfortunately." He groaned as he stretched his entire body. "The floor and I don't get along quite as well as we used to."
This earned a soft laugh from the vampire. "Clearly. Now go on, do what you need to do. I promise I won't freeze to death before sunrise."
Gale smiled at him as he made his way to the tent flap. "Goodnight, Astarion." And with that, he left.
The chatter from before picked up again, but Astarion wasn't listening. He was more focused on the ball still cupped in his hands. It was most certainly helping. The vampire hugged it close to his chest and wrapped his blanket back around himself before he laid himself down again. It was warm, comforting, and familiar.
It felt like Gale.
He didn't dwell on the thought, instead shuffling himself to get comfortable enough to drift off into a peaceful trance.