Chapter Text
A sudden commotion jarred Halsin out of his meditation. His tenuous connection with the Oak Father snapped, mighty roots retreating from reach and plunging him back into the shadows.
Halsin withheld a sigh of frustration. He had been trying for hours to commune with Thaniel, imprisoned as he was within the rot and ruin that plagued the lands—with little success—but it would do no good to be nettled. His ears twitched at the sound of raised voices.
The wizard and the vampire spawn were bickering once again.
“Astarion,” Gale said, attempting to snatch a book from Astarion’s slender fingers. His cheeks were ruddy with fluster. “Return that to me this instant, or I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Astarion said, eyes alight. “Darling, why so nervous? Afraid of what I’ll find hidden in your little diary?”
“It isn’t a diary!”
Gale’s voice was strained and squeaky due to a run-in with a group of meazels. One had snuck up behind him and strangled him. Though Lae’zel had swiftly come to his aid, according to Tav, it had left Gale with bruised vocal cords.
Talking sent him into frequent coughing fits, but that hadn’t seemed to stop his endless chatter.
“I don’t believe you,” Astarion singsonged, holding the book aloft. Gale went on his toes to retrieve it, then put his hands on his hips and scowled when he realized he was merely fuelling Astarion’s mirth. “The enchantment on the lock was suitably challenging, I’ll admit. It took me twenty minutes to break! Bravo.”
“You had no right to take that from my tent. It contains vital research. That's why I put safeguards in place. It’s also written in very delicate ink. I’d rather not have it in anyone’s hands save for my own, with gloves, but especially not your bloodstained claws.”
Astarion laughed. “Yes, sure. It’s the ink you’re worried about. That’s why you’ve been scribbling in it every night with a common quill when you thought nobody was looking. Tell me, did you write about your crush in here? Were you studying his body? Laying that big, foul-smelling heart of yours out on these pages like some lovesick pup? You could just talk to him, you know. I think he’d be amenable. Unlike you-know-who.”
Halsin frowned. He didn’t think Gale's scent was foul. Despite the bomb embedded in his chest, and the buzzing crackle-pop of magic that clung to his essence, to Halsin he smelled cozy. Of libraries, spices, and sweets. A human embodiment of a cinnamon roll.
Halsin had a hard time not trailing after him like a hungry… well, bear, at times.
“Don’t,” Gale warned. “Don’t go there. My romantic affairs are none of your business.”
Astarion’s insinuations were not unexpected. Gale mentioned having complicated feelings regarding his deity, but that hardly meant she was the only one who held his heart. (That Gale still wished to share his with her after she had sent him on a suicide mission as penance for his folly proved challenging to comprehend, though Halsin understood love could drive one to desperate measures.)
Based on what he knew, Halsin carried little respect for Mystra. Her cruelty seemed to far outweigh her benevolence. No lover should make such a demand—but should gods take mortals as lovers? Their capacity for emotion and all of its nuances was questionable at best.
If Gale harbored feelings for anyone in their group, Halsin would wager it was Tav.
Gale looked upon the drow with such curiosity. His smile bloomed like an autumncrocus whose petals had found the sun whenever Tav’s stern countenance briefly softened to commend him.
…Or perhaps it was Astarion. They certainly pulled each other’s braids enough.
“You sort of made it our business,” Astarion said. He opened the book, flipping through the pages and stopping on one. “My, my. This is juicy.”
Gale’s body language wasn’t just annoyed anymore. He looked skittish, almost frightened. Like a startled buck caught behind an arrowhead.
Hmm.
As Gale lunged forward, the air displaced. Astarion transformed into silvery mist, appearing behind him. “By the Hells, you honestly just wasted a scroll for that?”
“It was worth it to see you pinwheeling.”
Alright, enough.
Halsin rose from his spot on the ground and made his way toward the pair, barefoot on crumbling soil.
“A bit old to be playing keep-away, aren’t we, Astarion?” he asked, crossing his arms.
Astarion turned towards him and rolled his eyes, snapping the diary shut. “Oh, come on, Halsin. I was just trying to have a bit of fun in this godsforsaken hellhole. I wasn’t actually going to read anything. Why would I want to when he already forces us to listen to his non-stop drivel every hour of the day?”
“You talk more than I do,” Gale said, petulant.
The environment was getting to everybody, it seemed.
Halsin quirked a brow. “Be that as it may, it is vital that we maintain harmony within our party. We must respect each other.”
Astarion huffed. “Everybody is such a damned buzzkill.”
“Everybody also has a right to their privacy,” Halsin said, then continued, addressing them both, "However, should anyone feel inclined to confide in me, I would gladly lend an ear."
“Yes, you’re a big brute with big ears.” Astarion scoffed. “We know.”
This was far from the first time Halsin had heard such a statement. Or used it to describe himself. Brute, beast, savage. He took it with some amusement, as always, but—
“If it’s at all possible for you to be kind, please refrain from calling him that,” Gale said, and Halsin experienced a release of tension from his shoulders that he hadn’t even realized was there.
“It’s possible.” Astarion tossed the book toward Gale. It nearly hit the dirt, Gale tripping over his own feet to catch it. Halsin steadied him by grabbing the nape of his robe like a stray kitten.
“Good boy,” Halsin told Astarion dryly.
Beside them, Gale’s expression shifted in a peculiar way.
“Careful,” Astarion said, smirking. “I think you’ve made Gale jealous.”
Gale spluttered. “I am not.” He winced and started coughing. “That’s about e-enough of your childish immaturity. To imply such a thi—”
“Look, his Netherese briefs are all atwist. Never go into the theatre industry, my dear. Your acting is painful to watch.”
“It’s perfectly natural to seek praise,” Halsin commented, cutting off another hacking retort. “I am happy to provide it once it’s earned.”
Gale’s tongue, for once, seemed to tie itself up. He wheezed.
“On that note, I’ll leave master and pet alone.” Astarion ran a hand through tousled silver-white strands and a pink tongue over a fang. “It’s time I go feast on our fearless leader. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
And that was as far as the silence lasted.
“So basically, nothing,” Gale croaked. He rubbed his neck. “Be careful with Tav.”
“When have I ever not been?”
Gale shot Astarion a scathing look. “I need not remind you. You’re lucky Wyll had a scroll of Revivify on hand that day.”
“Oh, right, that. It was an accident. Plus, I apologized! He’s long since forgiven me, and my bloodlust has significantly improved now that I’m getting it on the nightly, so don’t concern yourself.” Despite Astarion's nonchalance, an undercurrent of remorse filtered through, showing in the tightness at the corners of his mouth. “Ta-ta.”
Wyll paid Astarion no mind as he strolled by, absorbed in training with Lae'zel's mind flayer dummy. Lae’zel was scrutinizing from the periphery, delivering harsh criticisms that Wyll took in stride. She eyed Astarion with suspicion as he disappeared between the flaps of Tav’s tent.
The little wizard was clutching his diary—er, research—to his chest now, steam practically coming out of his ears.
Halsin tried not to smile, though the impulse was strong. Best not to add insult to injury. Astarion had already taunted him past his limit. “Would you care to join me for some tea?” he offered. “It should soothe that cough. I was just about to brew a pot.”
He hadn’t been, but Gale needn’t know that.
Gale looked startled by the request, the anger draining out of him.
“I won’t be offended if you decline,” Halsin hastened to add. “Please, if you’d rather retire for the night or be alone, I understand.”
Gale made an abortive gesture, almost as if he’d been about to touch Halsin. The muscles in Halsin’s arms flexed instinctively. Gale swallowed. “No!” he squeaked. “No, I’ll certainly join you. That sounds precisely like what I need to decompress. Just, ah, give me a moment to change and… put this somewhere Astarion can never find again. Incredibly idiotic of me not to use a concealment charm. Though after today, I doubt I would’ve had the energy. Nothing a long rest won’t fix, but… hmm, maybe I should ask Shadowheart for a bout of healing.”
Gale glanced toward her side of the camp. It was dark and quiet. Her incense had burnt out.
"No need," Halsin replied, a strange knot forming in his stomach. Shadowheart wasn’t the only healer in their camp. He had been so distant, so focused on finding Thaniel and repairing the lands, that he had neglected his companions. “I shall tend to you. You do seem to be drooping.” Practically swaying on his feet, in fact, as Halsin observed him. Likely the reason he hadn’t cast Mage Hand to best Astarion. “I’ll meet you by the fire as soon as you’re ready.”
“Alright! Yes. By the fire. I’ll be over soon. Won’t take me long.”
With an awkward smile that Halsin returned with an amiable one of his own, Gale turned, hurrying towards his tent, robes swishing by his ankles.