Lost in a dance where both cannot say,
The swallowtail flutters
Fragile, but brave
Against the willows of decay

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

“I guess since we both have stuff we need to get off our chest, I have some unfortunate news.” Astarion had stayed quiet while Gale began to explain. “My goddess, Mystra…” He cleared his throat. “It seems Mystra has intervened... She has stayed the orb's destruction, at least for the time being”

“Why didn't she do that in the beginning?” Astarion argued as Gale held up a finger as his eyes fluttered shut.

"The Weave itself bends to her will, and now, so do I. I... have been given a reprieve. The orb within me will not explode, provided I follow her instructions, and earn my way back into her favor."

Astarion didn't say anything before cracking his fingers. “And please tell me you didn't take her offer to blow yourself up. That you made the smart decision and stuck it up that old wizard’s ass.”

“Elminster’s ass,” Gale corrected before the thoughts swam through his head. Gale had been alone when he discovered Elminster and he had journeyed his way with Elminster to his camp to talk about Mystra, or so the wizard expected. “Did you—?”

“Of bloody COURSE I followed you! If you were going to be led away from where we were, killed, I at the very LEAST wanted to loot your body for coin.”

Gale scoffed. “If you left me dead, the whole world would've ended. You could have just said you cared about me and left it at that.”

“Hm, I liked my idea better,” Astarion teased as he glanced down at his nails.

"There is hope yet for me, for all of us. I will do whatever it takes to see it through,” his solemn tone returned as the two laid down on a hill overlooking the Last Light Inn.

Astarion frowned deeply. To hear Gale talking about blowing himself up— it angered him. He propped himself up on an elbow as he gazed down at the wizard, who quietly stared up at him.

“And that's what you want? To get your stupid Goddess's favor? Bloody hell, you are BLIND. WHY would you want to be chained down by something that doesn't care for you?” He shouted. He watched as the wizard flinched, gazing off to the side.

"There’s something I have to confess. I’ve been absolutely terrified."

“I… I just… don't want to see you get hurt. So hearing you talking about exploding, I don't want you to go through with it thinking you have to ‘appease’ your goddess. I don't want you to. You think the world would be better off without you? Ha, what a bloody lie.”

"You are incredible, and that is terrifying. But when I’m with you, that fear… it melts away. I feel alive again.” For the first time in his 200 years of being a spawn, he felt his heart skip a beat as the wizard sat up, groaning as he wiped the dead leaves out of his hair.

“When that time comes,” Astarion began once again, filling the silence that surrounded the two. “I hope you’d choose me. I hope you'd choose me because if not, there's going to be another angry individual you'll have to make it up to.”

…

Astarion didn't know why that specific conversation stuck out to him in the early dawn. Perhaps it was because time seemed to edge on so slowly whenever the sun slumbered. He tossed and turned on the guest bedroom’s plush bed. He still wasn't used to the feel of an actual bed and he felt himself slide down and lay on the wooden floor. It was oddly comforting to see that Gale was doing … well-ish? The male once again buried in his studies as he was home while Astarion? He felt like he was willowing away.

“I didn't realize how long eternity could be…”

“Mr. Acunin!” Gale’s Tressym called as she pushed open the door. He felt himself launch up off the ground, which only got an amused purr from Tara. “Mr. Dekarios is in the process of packing for the trip, I’d thought you would want to get ready.”

“You're such a sweetheart, Tara,” Astarion flattered as Tara stretched her wings.

“I will say, Mr. Acunin, take good care of Mr. Dekarios? It's no secret that he cares for you a lot, sometimes I wish he would stop talking about you. Isn't he just adorable? Goodbye for now, dear.” And she trotted off. Gale thinking and talking about me? He thought. It seemed outrageous but the evidence was there— this ritual. He would have to claw the information out about what he was talking to with his Tressym AND about what this mysterious ritual was. He knew Gale had good intentions, but going blind into a ritual and only getting a “trust me” was something he was struggling a bit. Of COURSE he trusted Gale, but knowing what he knew about the wizard? He worried about the cost of the ritual and what it would mean for the wizard.

He trotted out of the guest bedroom, his normal attire finally cleaned as he placed on his armor from six months ago and noticed that Gale had been thinking the same exact thing.

“As devilish as ever,” Gale complimented as he twisted and turned, trying to get the soreness out of his back. Astarion couldn't help but feel himself … flush (?) as he closed the distance next to the bit shorter male. A smirk gathered along his face as he gently lifted the hair covering his neck as he admired his work of the new bitemarks. Gale still had the old puncture wounds from when he bit him for the first time in The Blighted Village that began to dull and heal. Not on my watch. It reminded him of old times — a game between how far he can go until the Karsus Weave poisons his blood and with that gone… his blood was the sweetest wine ever. He knew he would be waiting until Gale wanted another bite. And he couldn't wait.

“Showing off by admiring your work, hm?” Gale teased as he softly swatted Astarion’s hand away. “Tara wasn't pleased when she saw you sneak into and away from my bed chambers with the smell of blood on you. Tressyms have incredible scents, you know.”

“Guess I'll have to be more quiet next time.” Next time. He didn't understand why Gale looked sore as he did, but that caused an awkward silence to settle between them. It lasted until Gale grabbed his pouch and motioned that they should settle off.

The sun was softly beginning to rise back to the world of the living as anxiety filled Astarion’s gut. He didn't want to feel what felt like thousands of suns again. But Gale promised that he could give him back the sun… would he be able to feel it when the two of them return from the Twilight Realm? Would it be as sweet as it was when he had the tadpole? He bit down his excitement. If what Gale promised wasn't true, he wasn't going to be surprised about it.

The sun’s rays muted beneath a veil of thick clouds that loomed over the horizon as the two entered a thick forest where the limbs of the tree reached towards the sky and the leaves blocking out the sun even more. The coldness of dark washed over him once again.

“You mentioned that the Twilight Realm was a… forgotten realm?” Astarion asked. He couldn't remember anyone mentioning it outside of Gale or in any history books. Perhaps Gale was unfortunately correct.

“It was a place of fading light and eternal dusk, where time twisted like threads in the Weave itself. A fitting location for a ritual of such complexity — and danger,” Gale motioned with his hands, his voice filled with light as he conjured a projection of a dreamy landscape. “The etherealness of the landscape shapes to our wants, needs, desires, and the darkest parts of us. It's advised that we get in and then get out after we complete the ritual.” He heard a faintness of unease in the wizard’s voice, which returned his iconic smirk.

“What is it that you desire?” He teased, to only get a small huff from the wizard. The wizard wasn't going to budge as he could tell that Gale was deep in thought. The two walked in silence until mist clung to the ground around them as a marking on a tree nearby.

“So this is where we begin our little adventure, is it?” Astarion asked, glancing up at the swirling mist that marked the Twilight Realm’s boundary through a use of a make-shift portal. His voice was light, but Gale could sense the underlying edge. He didn't realize that Gale had left at night, or perhaps this had been here for quite a while.

Gale nodded, not commenting on Astarion’s tone nor giving clarity about said portal. “The portal is ahead, through the mist. Once we cross, we will be in the the realm of dreams. Let's not stay too long, okay?”

“Scared that you're going to get outed for something?” Teased Astarion, to which the wizard gave no answer.

“Once we’re inside, you’ll feel it—the pull of the Twilight, the way it warps everything. But as long as we stick to the path and stay focused, we’ll reach the ritual site without issue.”

“Fascinating,” Astarion drawled, his tone somewhere between sarcasm and genuine curiosity. “I do love a good life-crisis plane of existence. Really adds to the charm.”

Gale chuckled despite himself. “Trust me, it’s not as bad as it sounds. The Twilight Realm is... beautiful, in its own way. It’s a place where boundaries blur. Between life and death, day and night. You'll be able to journey without any regrets or burns.”

“Was the realm the ‘ritual’ you talked about?” Astarion asked again, to which the wizard shook his head.

“No. The ritual comes from this realm, so that's why we're journeying there. A part of you will be granted the Twilight Realm’s grave due to The Weave being inside you as an offering.”

Astarion didn’t respond right away. He simply studied Gale, red eyes flickering with unease. Would this work? Was Gale being truthful? Was there something else he wasn't saying? Surely, there was, but he wanted to know now. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter. “And you’re certain this will work? That this ritual will do what you say?”

Gale hesitated, but only for a fraction of a second. “It will. But it requires your trust.”

Astarion’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before he nodded, a silent agreement that was wrapped in layers of doubt. Trust never came easy from Astarion— not after everything that had happened to him. However, trusting Gale had felt … almost like second nature. He stood up to the Drow in Moonrise towers and told Yugirir to go back to the Hells so he could know about his scars.

“If he comes here, he won't find you alone,” Gale had said matter-of-factly. He sounded so SURE but Cazador would rip his throat out in a heartbeat if he knew where Astarion had gone.

“I know we were able to stop the cut-throat Gur that he sent after me, but Cazador is different,” Astarion had hissed between his two fangs. “He would eat you alive.”

“A small price to pay to make sure you're safe.”

“We're here,” Gale responded, glancing at Astarion. He couldn't read the look on Gale’s face, but his heart thumped in his ears as the mist threatened to swallow the two of them whole. Gale went back to staring straight ahead as Astarion craned his neck, this time it was HIS turn to gaze upon the wizard. The wizard seemed like he was trying to work through what to say about SOMETHING until he noticed Astarion was peering over at him.

“Ready?” Gale offered Astarion his hand. It seemed silly to think he would take it; however, he found himself interlacing with Gale as they stepped through the mist together, the air thick and cool as it wrapped itself like a blanket around them. A shiver ran down Astarion’s spine as he squeezed Gale’s hand as the fabric of reality shifted, the world bending beneath his feet as they entered into the Twilight Realm.

Gale was right. It was like a dream. Colors muted and surreal, the sky a perpetual wash of purple and gold as the ground beneath them were cloudy wisps.

“Wow…” Gale breathed. “The Astral Plane couldn't beat out this gorgeous Realm.”

“This is... strange,” Astarion murmured, eyes scanning the landscape with a mix of awe and wariness. “I can feel it—pull. It’s like it’s trying to drag me into the shadows.”

“This realm is where the Demigod of Vampires was banished to, so it makes sense that your bloodlust would be sparked by the twilight skies of this realm,” Gale hummed as he pulled the ancient tome out of his bag and opened the book to a random page, flipping through before he found the correct page and showed it to Astarion. Astarion nodded along, pretending that he could read what looks like Celestial or Abyssal, or something.

“I can't read that, but that sketch is lovely—” he responded as Gale embarrassingly closed the book and shoved it back into his pouch. He noticed a soft hue decorate the male's face as his eyes shifted away from him.

“Oh that? I'm not much of an artist, but I thank you.”

“Do bring it back out. Who was that?” Astarion curiously asked as Gale sat there, hands in front of him knotted together with a blank expression. He gave a reprised sigh as he handed Astarion the ancient tome and flipped it open to the sketch.

The individual was quite good looking, with silver curls that danced off of his head. He had porcelain skin that shone of shading. He had a smirk on his face, but his red eyes told a different story. Sadness. Vulnerability. He tilted his head as Gale embarrassingly glanced away.

“You're a lovely artist,” Astarion complimented. He had been working on “being nice” to take back parts of his innocence from Cazador, but he didn't know if Gale actually believed the words out of his mouth. “You'll have to draw me sometime.”

Gale’s breathing paused after Astarion had said that, causing his eyebrow to raise. Until—
Oh.
Oh.

A blush gathered on Gale's face as he didn't say anything, just snapped the ancient tome shut and placed it into his bag. After a few seconds, Gale finally regained his composure. “...Thanks, I really appreciate you for switching those kind words about my art. Now, stay close,” Gale changed the subject, his voice steady as he reached out, brushing his fingers against Astarion’s arm. “We can’t afford to get separated here.”

Astarion smirked, though there was no real amusement behind it. “Can't wait for when the realm begins to mess with your mind. It will be delightful.”