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Zevlor found that winter in Reithwin was surprisingly more manageable than that of the Gate. Since Baldurs Gate was closer to the water, crisp winter winds from the sea would bring forth ice and frost. Icicles hung from storefronts, taverns, and inns which owners used as a deterrent from thieves. For a city already cloaked in drama and danger, any semblance of security was better than none.
With Reithwin bordering the woods and farther from the sea, the winter was dry and quiet. Icicles still formed but not as deadly as the ones that fell from rooftops and castles. Such icicles were smaller and easier to break with a broomstick. It was the first thing Zevlor did each morning, fretting over the little ones that lived in the orphanage a little ways from Halsin's abode.
Surprised as he was by winter in Reithwin, Zevlor was even more surprised at how quickly he settled into retired life. Or rather, what he considered to be retired life. No longer working a post or commanding others, he lived a modest life alongside Halsin. Never in his years did he consider himself being one to help raise children and rebuild what was once lost… and yet here he was. The laughter of children, particularly the Tieflings, warmed Zevlor's old heart.
Survivors guilt still sat in the back of his mind, but for now it was dormant. Not foreboding. Not hanging over him like a dark cloud. His survivorship, he told himself, was put to good use in teaching the little ones how to sword fight and defend themselves. How to sew the holes in their trousers and how to properly sear meat to ensure that none fell ill to food poisoning. Halsin often compared him to that of a mother hen. Such words might have caused a negative reaction in the past, but to be given a doting and protective term now? It was one he cherished.
Even if it did speak to his underlying anxieties.
As sun filters through the curtains, Zevlor rolls on his side, facing the snoring man beside him. He props his chin in his hand and watches Halsin sleep adoringly. Winter was the one time where Halsin's senses weren't as heightened, his body actively yearning for sleep much like his bear counterpart. It was nice to see him resting his body and putting his sore hands at ease. Though Halsin's lifespan was vastly extended due to his Druidic nature, it did not mean that he was without the pangs of age. Zevlor takes Halsin's hand in his and kisses his knuckles, smiling when Halsin stirs.
"Mm? Morning already?" Halsin asks.
"Unfortunately so," Zevlor replies. He kisses the top of Halsin's hand this time, eyeing his veins and looking to see if his fingers were swollen. Halsin's eyes soften and he gently pulls his hand away.
"No flare ups, I assure you," he rumbles, pulling Zevlor against his side. His nose finds its way to the junction of Zevlor's neck and he inhales, smelling of sweat from last nights exertions and lemongrass soap. As he goes to cup the back of Zevlor's head to bring him in for a kiss, the bedroom door flies open and in rushes a little dragon-born child.
Flint.
Halsin and Zevlor pull away from one another.
"Papa!" cries Flint. His pupils are blown wide and he looks to Halsin in desperation. "It's Tias!"
In a flash, Zevlor and Halsin throw on their clothes and rush outside in their bare feet, snow be damned.
They race after Flint who expertly avoids ice while the adults behind him have to be cautious in movement, lest they wanted to arrive to the scene concussed. They can barely keep up with the child, only knowing to follow where the flick of his tail went and the crunching of snow up ahead.
Around the bend and down near the emerging city center, they find the Tiefling boy, Tias, with his tongue stuck to a lamp pole. A gaggle of children are crowded around him but scatter as soon as they see Halsin and Zevlor coming their way. Poor Tias makes a resigned sound as his tongue sticks to the frigid pole.
"Oh, dear," says Zevlor with a sigh. "What trouble have you gotten yourself into now?"
A warm chuckle comes from Halsin. "Flint, can you fetch me some water?"
The dragon-born nods and takes off. Zevlor paces with his hands on his hips. He knows it would be cruel to chastise Tias in a moment such as this. A tongue to a pole was embarrassing enough as is.
"Alright, calm down little cub," Halsin instructs. He rubs Tias' back and keeps him steady. "Don't pull, you'll harm yourself. I'll get you free in a moment." his voice is level and warm, eyes attentive and expression neutral.
Zevlor softens when he sees the druid dry Tias eyes. It is no more than a moment before Flint comes rushing back with a cup of water, his palm pressed flat on top of it as not to spill it in his haste.
Smart child, thinks Zevlor. He only wishes that Tias could be the same in times such as these.
Halsin thanks Flint and takes the cup, muttering a quick spell to warm the water in the glass. He pours it on Tias' tongue and the Tiefling pulls himself free, falling on his backside in powdery snowbank.
The Tiefling boy speaks with a lisp from all the frost, "'fanks"
A quick healing spell is cast and his tongue is back to normal. The lad shivers and takes Flint's hand as he is helped up, brushing off the seat of his pants.
"Now," says Halsin. "Will you tell me what happened?"
"Perhaps we can head inside and fetch our shoes first?" Zevlor interrupts, stamping from foot to foot. He shoots a disapproving glare in Tias' direction but the spitfire replies with a hint of defiance.
The Tiefling child furrows his brows from underneath his mop of blonde hair. "You left the house without your shoes?"
Halsin scoops Tias up before Zevlor can cuff him and lets the children ride on his shoulders.
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Bundled up in blankets and furs, the children sit on the couch with mugs of hot chocolate. Zevlor has doubled up on wool socks and takes a seat across from them with Halsin.
"Now, will you explain what on earth you were thinking pulling such a stunt?" Zevlor asks.
"Felicity dared me to!"
"If Felicity told you to jump off a bridge would you do it?"
Tias ponders the question and Zevlor pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He is ready to thoroughly scold the Tiefling when Halsin jumps in.
"Why is it so important to do as Felicity says?" Halsin asks gently. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he does so. Flint tucks his tail nervously around himself.
"Because she's the bravest out of all the kids!" Tias chirps. "And I wanted to prove that I'm brave too…"
"And you think that sticking your tongue to a frozen pole is brave?" Zevlor gawks.
"Well I—"
"No," answers Flint. "And I told him it was a bad idea but he wouldn't listen to me!"
"Shut up lizard-brain!"
"Tias!" Halsin snaps. Everyone in the room falls silent. "I will not tolerate you being cruel to your friend. Let alone anyone for that manner."
Halsin sighs regretfully. He is not proud for losing his temper.
"Tias, I shan't lie," he continues, allowing a small smile to grace his lips. "This is not the first time I have dealt with a young one sticking their tongue to a frozen object—"
Zevlor raises a brow at that but decides to inquire about it later.
"But it is early morning and no one else was around. That could have gone a lot worse for you, especially if you and your friends decided to do that somewhere far away from the town."
He stifles a chuckle at the grumpy little pout on Tias' face and the owl-eyed expression from Flint. Halsin had a soft spot for Tiefling children. Often forced to grow up early, it was refreshing to see their mischievous and childlike side when growing in a safe environment. But for poor Flint… He was a nervous boy given that he was the only dragon-born out of the orphaned children. Often bullied for being different. Halsin sincerely hoped that Tias wasn't going to succumb to the peer pressure of Felicity and her friends and leave Flint by his lonesome.
"Felicity is older than you two and she should have known better than to put you up to such a cruel prank. Now, I want you to promise me that you two will be smarter with your choices," Halsin says firmly.
"Yes, papa Halsin," says Flint. He also looks to Zevlor for his approval. Zevlor gives him a curt nod and what he hopes is a reassuring smile. He's too angry with Tias' foolishness to say anything worth while and wills himself to remember that he was a child once too. He ought to be easier on the lad, but that damned boy kept getting into mischief as if he'd nothing better to do. It worried him…
"Yes," agrees Zevlor. "Next time you pull a stunt like that, I might just leave you there to reflect and lose a tongue."
Tias's hands tremble around the mug of hot chocolate. The tears that fall stubbornly down his cheeks taste salty upon his quivering bottom lip. He sucks in a breath but words fail him. Flint moves his gaze away from his friend as if to give him privacy. As if to say, Tias does not cry.
A hiccup escapes Tias's trembling lips before he finds the strength to speak. "I wanted to be brave like you."
Zevlor's heart lurches at the admission. "Oh, Tias," he sighs. His knees creak when he gets up from the couch and approaches the young boy. Tias sniffles, trying his damnest to glare at Zevlor but fails when Zevlor's hand rests between his budding horns and gives his hair a fond tussle.
"Silly boy," he mutters. "I already think you're plenty brave," his voice is gentle. A bit gruff, but gentle all the same. "Dry your eyes. I'd hate for you to cry over my words."
Zevlor kneels in front of the two boys on the couch and takes Tias' cup, setting it aside on the round coffee table that Halsin had built. He places one hand on Tias knee and one hand on Flint's. "Now I want you boys to listen to me. You have nothing to prove to anybody. You are a Tiefling and you are a Dragon-born and therefore you two are already resilient."
"Resilient?" squeaks Tias.
"It means strong," Flint replies, puffing out his chest and holding his chin up high.
Halsin and Zevlor share a fond chuckle.
"Indeed, young one. Indeed," Zevlor smiles. "You two share an intense bond and I don't want to see it squandered by going off and getting into trouble. Mischief is one thing and loathe to admit it, I do not expect you two to stay out of it for long… but promise us that you shall prove your bravery in staying true to yourselves. Not putting yourselves at risk for the amusement of others. Can you do that for us?"
The boys nod, uncharacteristically quiet. It seems Zevlor has moved them with his speech and he finds himself surprised yet again. The amount of times Reithwin has filled him with awe and hope for the future was, well, overwhelming to say the least. But he finds that he doesn't regret joining Halsin.
"Good. Now finish your hot chocolate and warm up, hmm? I don't want you two out of this house until I know you're good and warm," Zevlor orders. He ruffles Tias' hair once more then stands up to head to the kitchen. Trying to busy himself with something other than fretting over the little ones.
"You two got off easy," Halsin chuckles. He wraps a woven blanket around the two of them and kisses both of their foreheads.
"Indeed," calls Zevlor from the kitchen. He reaches for a pan so he can cook some eggs and grits for himself and Halsin. Hells only knows the kind of trouble he'd be in if he pulled a stunt like that in his youth.
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Once the children had warmed up and Halsin and Zevlor were fed, they sent them right back to the orphanage and told them to tidy their rooms and partake in chores for the rest of the day. No more mischief for the weekend. That was punishment enough before the school week commenced.
With bellies comfortably full and the fire roaring, Zevlor massages Halsin's hands.
"I told you,my heart. I am fine," rumbles Halsin. Though he makes no effort to move from Zevlor's expert massages.
"Nonsense. You've been whittling when you ought to be resting your hands," Zevlor admonishes. "With all the work you do during the day, you must give your hands a break. Hands are important and irreplaceable tools."
"Nothing a spell can't fix."
"Mm, but it is you who said that even the strongest of spells cannot cure what is within your nature. Your arthritis is not to be ignored."
"Yes, my heart," chuckles Halsin. He leans forward and captures Zevlor's bottom lip in a quick kiss. Zevlor tries to angle his head away while he works on Halsin's hands, though his eyes crinkle and his cheeks rise as he breaks into a fond smile. "Damn you," he breathes. "You're impossible to care for."
"I ate your breakfast, did I not?"
"Haven't all mothers said at one point or another that the key to a man's heart is through his stomach?"
"Hmm. I did not know my mother," Halsin says matter of fact.
Zevlor pauses and holds Halsin's hands, his eyes fixed on the swollen knuckles and dry hands.
"Neither did I," he admits softly. But he had heard it from many a Tiefling mother in passing. He looks to Halsin, losing himself in his hazel eyes. Where flecks of brown and gold reside.
"Brr! It is absolutely dreadful out there!" the front door opens with a dramatic gust of wind before slamming shut again. Astarion stomps his boots at the front door and unlaces them, placing them neatly on the welcome rug. Bundled in a navy blue coat with sheep skin lining the neck and wrists, he enters the abode with a basket in hand. His brows raise at the intimate scene before him.
"Don't mind me darling, just back from the gate. Frozen stiff and all. How kind of you to put on a fire."
"Astarion, I was not expecting you to arrive until next week!" Halsin exclaims. He gives Zevlor's hands a squeeze then rises to meet his other lover. He is quick to close the distance between them and wraps Astarion in a crushing hug.
"Oof! Did you not get the letter I sent? Oh, of course you didn't," Astarion huffs. "Not with all this snow—Do you mind? You're going to break my ribs!" despite his protests, the tips of his ears are pink, a sign of embarrassment and an indicator that he has recently fed. Since the blood can circulate and appear in the form of a blush.
Halsin lets go of him and kisses the crown of Astarion's head. His touch does not linger, for he allows the vampire to be the first to indicate he'd like to be touched. "My apologies," Halsin says with a blush of his own. "I forgot myself."
"Hmph. As you typically do," Astarion mocks with a wrinkle of his nose. He looks to the couch where Zevlor has reclined, the spade of his tail flicking either in irritation or interest. Astarion can never tell.
"Ah, the retired commander," Astarion greets him with a dip of his head. It has taken Zevlor some time to get used to Astarion's humour and quips. Patience was a virtue that Zevolr has embraced over the years. "You'll be happy to know that your Tieflings in the Gate are fairing well. Some have even taken up your post."
Astarion moves to the kitchen table and places his woven basket down. A few rolls of fabric, fresh apples, and a loaf of bread all from the city. "The winter has been cruel to the merchant ships but I was able to acquire some fruit. Nothing fancy, I'm afraid."
"Acquire?" Zevlor asks.
"Oh, don't be so sour. You've retired. A little theft never hurt anyone."
Except when it did.
Halsin frowns. "Astarion, you've more than enough coin from your tailor shop to pay for the labour of merchant ships." He cups Astarion's slender face in his large hand, soothing his thumb over his cheek. His voice holds a hint of warning to it that makes Astarion absolutely giddy.
Zevlor is well accustomed to Astarion's bratty nature. While he and Halsin were rather vanilla and enjoyed rest and sensuality, Astarion was a brat that enjoyed being tamed. And Halsin loved to indulge. He had even carved a palm sized paddle just for Astarion. Made from one of the maple trees planted and used for harvest. A Tiefling merchant had brought the sapling from a colder climate and gifted Halsin a book on how to care for and harvest sap to make syrup. The wooden paddle was stained to a golden hue, sanded and polished to ensure no splinters would occur.
Zevlor himself preferred massages and hot wax if he was feeling particularly feisty. He was curious as to how Astarion could handle restraint and impact play given his past. The thought of being tied up at any capacity made Zevlor nauseous. The lack of autonomy that he experienced briefly in the mind-flayer pod was petrifying—but, everyone dealt with trauma differently, he supposed. He does not judge Astarion for it. In fact, Astarion and Halsin never slept with one another other than in the literal sense of sleeping side by side. Astarion was still figuring out how to navigate life outside of sex, and Halsin was simply happy to be by his side.
Zevlor relaxes against the couch cushions, watching as Halsin and Astarion catch up. The Vampire spawn had been gone for a ten day to look for new patterns and skulk around the city.
"But it is midday, how did you walk here unharmed?" Halsin asks once the two are seated in the living room.
Astarion sits in Halsin's lap in the chair across Zevlor. "Do you mind, darling?" he asks. He has Halsin's wrist in hand.
"Not at all, but I would caution the wrist," Zevlor replies rigidly.
Astarion's expression is knowing. "Ah, working yourself to the bone again, Halsin?" he tuts playfully. "Do I need to babysit you as well? Ensure that you don't wreck those gorgeous hands of yours?"
"I appreciate your concern," chuckles Halsin as Astarion gets comfortable. He reminds them both of a cat trying to curl up in an uncomfortable area. "But getting here?"
Astarion pauses. "It is winter. The clouds block out the sun. It is bright yes, but I have managed. Sooner or later I shall find that bloody sunwalker ring and I can enjoy the suns rays yet again."
With that, he angles himself so that his face is nuzzled against Halsin's neck. Halsin holds him, one hand rubbing his back idly as Astarion bites his neck with delicate precision and care. Zevlor looks away. He could never stand the sight of vampires and their feeding.
But Astarion was a friend and the trust that he established with Halsin was none of Zevlor's concern.
It is over before it began, Astarion licking his lips and Halsin uttering a soft restoration spell, the colour quickly returning to his cheeks.
"Halsin mentioned coin earlier," Zevlor says thoughtfully. "Would it not be possible to hire someone for the time being to deliver what you need to your tailor shop?"
"Yes, I am sure we can send for supplies for a decent wager," Halsin adds. He rubs his hand along the side of his neck and smiles wryly as Astarion licks the tips of his fingers playfully. Though Astarion's good mood doesn't last for long.
"I could… but has it not occurred to you that I can do my own things? Of course it would be nice to travel and do my bidding my day, but I'd rather not spend my years cooped up in a tailor shop like someone's dear old nan."
Halsin frowns. "I did not mean to offend—"
"Oh, of course you didn't you old oaf," Astarion slips from Halsin's lap and stalks off to the kitchen, pilfering the cupboards for some sort of alcoholic beverage.
Zevlor exchanges an exasperated glance with Halsin. Clearly they had hit a sore spot.
"There are some Tiefling adventurers who had traveled with myself and the other refugees," Zevlor begins hesitantly. "They're restless. Not fond of the Flaming Fist—"
Astarion scoffs, pouring himself a glass of wine that Halsin had been saving for a roast.
"Who is?"
"—I am sure that they could accompany you in finding the ring that you seek once winter is over."
Astarion sips from his glass with a thoughtful expression. It seems that Halsin is pleased with the suggestion as well, the tension in his shoulders sagging and his expression placid. Despite his prickly demeanor, Astarion wasn't too hard to get along with—he harboured no real jealousy towards Zevlor and if it was, it was often playful. Something to rile him up and test the waters. But Zevlor didn't indulge him like Halsin did. He was much too old for games like that. Regardless, he knew he'd fret if Astarion chose to go on a wild goose chase in the winter. Even if spring was just around the corner.
"Hmm. I suppose I could take them up on it should they seem like people I would get along with."
"The fact that you regard them as people is enough of a good start, I'll tell you that," Zevlor says.
Astarion's only reply is a hum as he downs what is left of his wine.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
During the winter season, Reithwin is quiet at night. It keeps Zevlor awake. Alone with his thoughts. He'd much rather hear the laughter of children and axes on wood in the warmer months. When folks went to bed later and he could fall asleep knowing that he was surrounded by life. When it is quiet, it was eerie and when it was eerie, it reminded him of the unknown. Back when he was the sole leader of the Tiefling refugees. He wasn't sure what was worse, the silence at night or the screams when they were in the depths of the Shadow cursed lands.
Halsin's snores are welcomed. It gives him something to focus on.
But tonight, he is on the edge of the bed. Astarion had decided to spend the night despite his home and shop only being a few strides down the lane. He doesn't mind it though.
He doesn't mind seeing the vulnerable side of the vampire spawn. A reminder that he was once mortal too. That he had hopes and dreams. Halsin normally sleeps in between them, one arm around both of their waists. But Astarion seemed off when he returned. Contemplating Zevlor's offer of assistance. Hence his positioning of taking the center of the bed, bracketed by two seasoned fighters.
Perhaps, thinks Zevlor, that was what finally broke the last of Astarion's walls. Knowing that someone other than Halsin cared. Charming as he could be, Astarion always held people at arms length, which made it harder for him to make friends.
"I can practically hear you thinking with all your sighing," Astarion mumbles tiredly. His back is to Zevlor and face tucked into Halsin's breast. The druid sleeps deeply, snores undisturbed.
"I'm surprised you can hear it over Halsin's snores," Zevlor jests.
The bed creaks and the sheets rustle as Astarion slowly untangles himself from Halsin. He faces Zevlor—or rather—his red eyes face him. Zevlor can scarcely make out the outline of Astarion. Although a Tiefling, he was not blessed with dark vision.
"You can come closer, you know," Astarion says with a gentleness that is foreign to him. "I don't bite… unless you allow it."
Zevlor rolls his eyes at that but he finds himself shuffling closer. He is surprised by how cold Astarion's body is, having never touched him before. He couldn't deny that Astarion was gorgeous but he felt no sexual attraction towards him. Yet he allows the vampire spawn to cup his face in his hand and examine his facial features.
"I'm glad that you're here," Astarion whispers. "I think about Halsin more than I'd like to admit. You're good for him and he's good for you…"
"You are good for the both of us," Zevlor whispers back. "The bond that you two share, the adventures that you've had. It'd be a pity to waste such a gift…" he trails off for a moment, a timid smile gracing his aged features. "And you keep me feeling young and worthwhile… even though you're more of a handful than the children of Reithwin at times—"
Astarion scoffs in mock offense and gives Zevlor's cheek the lightest of taps.
"You bastard. Here I thought you were being nice."
"I am being nice."
Zevlor watches the way that Astarion's red eyes flicker to his lips. Once more he allows the initiation. Their kiss is soft—a simple peck that spoke more to their appreciation of one another than anything deeper.
Zevlor pulls the blankets over Astarion's shoulder and tries to read his expression. Gently, he drapes his arm over Astarion and jumps when he feels Halsin shift and reach for his hand. Interlocking their hands, they rest with Astarion nestled in between them, his face now nestled in the greying hairs of Zevlor's chest. He could have sworn he hears a contented little purr from Astarion. He smiles when he feels Halsin's lips on his forehead.
Halsin has stopped snoring and it hadn't occurred to him that his snoring had ceased long before then. He'd have to ask him about what he heard in the morning and he'd have to ask about the misadventures of rescuing those from frozen tongues.
Zevlor had been hesitant about retirement and about what it would bring. He had been worried about how his reputation would precede him. But Reithwin had shown him otherwise. That his reputation was not something that impacted the kindness offered to him. That he was useful in wisdom and lived experience.
In between rebuilding the town, ensuring the children were well educated and fed, and making sure Tias was keeping out of trouble, he had his hands comfortably full.
A pleased sigh leaves Halsin's lips and for once, Zevlor can fall asleep in silence.