Chapter Text
Gale watched as the fighter made a swift exit from his room. What a fool he’d been, acting like a school boy and ogling the bare, tanned skin of his companion. And to imagine his old clothes would fit Fiachra! Gale was sure that of every trip and mistake he made in his friend’s company that would surely haunt him the longest. Both of them, really.
Fiachra did not leave the guest room for the remainder of the night. Many times Gale crossed the hallway and saw the door shut tight and very little illumination behind it. Perhaps he had gone to bed immediately in hopes that he may wipe the embarrassing moment from his mind. He cleared the table and washed the dishes alone.
Now it was morning and Fiachra had still not come down for breakfast. It was quite unlike the early riser, and Gale was starting to worry. The lecture started at ten, which meant that they needed to be at Blackstaff at nine, and the walk to the academy was twenty five minutes long, meaning Gale allotted forty minutes to the walk in case of unseen circumstances. He also enjoyed a long breakfast, so he gave an hour’s time for it and clearing up. It was currently a quarter past seven and Gale tried not to sweat.
Breakfast had been made, and with magic cookware there was no issue of it spoiling or going gold, but it was about the principle of the matter. The two broke their fast at five minutes past seven on every other day but that morning. With the strange encounter the night before, Gale was starting to worry that Fiachra may have snuck out during the night to spare the wizard the trouble of looking him in the eye.
The stair creaked. Something which Fiachra started to do intentionally after he scared his friend quite badly by appearing silently behind him. But never mind that. He was standing on the sixth stair up from the floor. His hair was damp and brushed, sitting feathered and tufted on his head. His boots had been buffed and his face washed. He was buttoned up in a very nice leather jacket.
Suddenly Gale felt very foolish indeed for even imagining dressing his friend in anything else. Fiachra looked incredibly dashing in black. The jacket was well fitted and defined his frame well. With it came matching black leather fingerless gloves, which had silver studs along each knuckle. Gale swallowed and blinked, feeling a swath of strong emotions cling to his insides.
“Do I look alright?” Fiachra’s normally smooth voice sounded almost nervous.
“Splendid!” Gale said immediately, and then felt even more foolish for such a quick response. “Yes, you look alright. Very… rugged.”
Fiachra smiled something perhaps a little awkward but fond and charming. He thanked him and descended down the final few steps. “Breakfast?”
///
They finished breakfast before Gale expected, leaving him less nervous. However, as quickly as they ate, the walk to the academy was not uneventful. Two well dressed gentlemen were bound to attract attention, especially two of notoriety.
“The wizard of Waterdeep!” a jeering voice called. A man was sauntering over to Gale, posturing aggressively. Ever a diffusive man, Gale smiled.
“What can I do for you, saer?”
The man stood too close for comfort. Gale and Fiachra exchanged glances that told Fiachra do not strike. Fiachra ground his jaw and stood silently. The stranger put a hand on Gale’s bag, “I’ve heard that you defied Mystra. Must’ve come at a pretty great cost.”
“Yes, it had. But I regret not a moment. Is there something you need?”
“Be pretty easy to take you down, huh? Bet you have some nice things, too,” the man unlatched the clasp on the bag. Gale cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry, saer, but my companion and I really must be going. We are quite the formidable foes. You may also know us as the saviors of Baldur’s Gate.”
The man looked over to Fiachra, regarding him as if for the first time. He scoffed a funny laugh and gestured with a newly produced knife. “Who’s this? Your boyfriend?”
Suddenly there was no stranger beside Gale. In a flash Fiachra charged, pushing the man backward until he slammed him into the nearest wall with the knife to his throat. “If you only respond to violence, then violence will be my call. You got that? Fiachra’s frightening eyes bore into the man, who had lost all momentum and thought of theft. His tight snarl quivered and sweat beaded down his forehead.
Fiachra smashed his forehead into the stranger’s nose, feeling the crunch beneath the skin and hot blood spattering on his lower face. He let go of the man as he crumbled to the ground. He took Gale’s hand in his and asked, “Are you alright?”
Gale stood silent and shocked for a moment at the display he just witnessed. Dots of red coated his companion’s face and neck. He took out a handkerchief and blotted some of it away. “Yes. Yes I think I am quite alright. Are you?”
“I’m quite fine.” He licked his lips, smearing some of the blood, “Now let’s be off. I’m sure you’re anxious about time as it is and I don’t wish you any more stress.” He took a step and then paused, this time grabbing both his hands, “And please, forgive me for my outburst. I don’t quite know what came over me.”
“Of course. What’s a little rough and rumble at a quarter past eight? Surely nothing I haven’t seen before. But yes, let’s get going.”
The rest of the walk was uneventful and with a wave of prestidigitation the encounter could go unmentioned. Still, Gale was thinking about it. Fiachra had seemed so angry at the insinuation that they were lovers. They weren’t, of course, but he had attacked the man with a fury unbefitting of his companion. Was it a point of pride? Gale’s mind supplied him with an explanation. A memory flashed across his vision of Fiachra and Astarion running off into the woods together.
Yes, right. The two handsome elves were together. Fiachra had stayed in Baldur’s Gate where Astarion was. This was a friendly visit, to a friend’s house, to do a friend a favor. Still, Gale could enjoy his friend ’s company. At least Fiachra seemed to be relishing his time in Waterdeep.
The two companions made it to Blackstaff Academy at five to nine. Fiachra had spent much of the walk through the halls with his neck craned to look at the high architecture and impressive awards hanging off it. He would ask questions about anything that intrigued him and made little sly comments about things that did not impress him.
A colleague of Gale’s- one Professor Mina Bakshi- stopped them. “Is this the hero of Baldur’s Gate?”
Fiachra looked awkward, the question clearly addressed to Gale about him rather than to him. Gale smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Yes! This is Fiachra the fighter, a good friend of mine.”
Professor Bakshi smiled politely, “I wasn’t expecting a half drow,” she leaned a little closer to look at his eye, “And a Lolth-born one as well.”
Gale pulled Fiachra a little further back from the professor. He meant to say something placating, but the half drow in question spoke, “I would say that my heritage holds no bearing on my appearance here, but I am here to lecture on the Underdark. Tell me, do you know anything about the Underdark?”
“I happen to be the lead professor on Menzoberranzan studies here at Blackstaff,” Professor Bakshi postured herself in such a way that spoke to being proud of that fact and a little intimidated by the presence of the half drow.
“I didn’t say Menzoberranzan, I said the Underdark. But besides that, I assume you took over after Professor Waldrik’s leave?”
“Uhm, yes, I did. Do you know him?”
Gale looked expectantly at Fiachra, whose red eye seemed to glow with withheld rage. Fiachra smiled a base and cringing smile. “I am his one and only son.”
The professor looked stunned beyond belief and only managed to stutter out “Ah. Well. I believe we may have much to discuss. Perhaps tomorrow, though. Goodbye, Professor Dekarios. Fiachra.”
She scuttered off and Fiachra’s steps started furiously down the hall, leaving Gale to hurry after him and bring him to his classroom. He shut and locked the door to his office. “Your father is the Drustin Waldrik?”
Fiachra ran his blunt nails across his scalp and tugged at the roots of his scalp. “I hate my father! I want nothing to do with him and never want to hear of him again!”
The fighter pressed his forehead to Gale’s shoulder and his hands to his chest. Gale put a kind hand on each shoulder. “I understand. When Professor Bakshi inevitably comes, I’ll speak to her alone.”
“Would you? And please, speak even less of my mother to me. I hate her more than my father and she is dead to me.”
“Of course.”
With the moment over, Fiachra pushed off Gale and grabbed the notes from his bag. “I doubt I’ll need any of this, but I’ll have it out in case of… I don’t know. Maybe we can pass it around.”
“You have the whole lecture memorized? You’ve had not even two weeks and it’s a two hour long speech.” Gale was impressed by his friend’s studiousness, but felt that perhaps he was missing something.
“These facts,” Fiachra pressed a finger to the worn leather of the journal, “kept me alive in the Underdark. I know them better than I know my poor father and despicable mother. I don’t need to have a lecture memorized. I know the subject better than anyone in Waterdeep.”
Gale knew that Fiachra was being more unkind than usual, and forgave him due to the circumstances before. He felt truly sorry for his friend. He was a fighter truly forged in fire and for all his tribulations he was met with well meaning souls who could not care less for his comfort. But that wasn’t entirely true, was it? Fiachra had Gale. Had Astarion. It would do no good to pity the fighter, who for the first time in his life was truly settling down with a man who loved him.
No, that was no way to treat a friend. Fiachra was capable and willing to ask for help. “So you’re ready to lecture?”
“Where do I stand? To speak to everyone. Is there some podium or do I simply stand?”
“I can get you a podium if you’d like.”
“Oh that won’t be necessary. I was just asking in case. I don’t need one.”
“Right, yes.” Gale cleared his throat. “Well we’ve got a half hour before students arrive. Feel free to peruse my office. I’ll be grading papers.”
Fiachra let himself wander around the hall. It was wide and tall, with many raised rows of seats and long desks. The layout was unfamiliar to Fiachra, who had spent his youth in the Underdark and did not pursue higher education. He made a mental note to never bring up that fact to Gale, though he assumed Gale already could tell.
He suddenly felt very insecure about the whole thing. Who was he to lecture wizards? Those who had dedicated their lives to learning and knowledge and intricacies of the Weave completely unknown to him. But then, how could he not trust Gale? Gale, who had invited him to lecture with confident enthusiasm? Fiachra resolved that he was being silly. There was the indisputable fact that he was more knowledgeable on the Underdark and survival than any student attending, unless of course they were of drow or svirfneblin heritage.
Students started to trickle into the hall, taking places at seats that may or may not have been assigned.
Fiachra subtly adjusted his jacket and pulled Gale from his office. When everyone was seated, Gale introduced him. “Today, my excited pupils, we have a guest lecturer and good friend of mine, Fiachra, the savior of Baldur’s Gate.
There was a massive round of applause- one Fiachra had never heard the volume of until recent events- and the tips of his pointy ears blushed.
Gale laughed a light laugh, “Alright everyone, settle down.”
When the chatter died down Fiachra cleared his throat and began.
Fiachra found, surprisingly, that it was nice to lecture. All that information, which had for so long been so important to him, came spilling out with clarity. “The Underdark is, at its core, not a hostile place. The inhabitants treat it as such because they are afraid of the unknown. It is important to note that the Underdark is no more dangerous than the surface, only less understood and more obscure. If you gain a basic grasp on the flora and fauna, your only threat becomes navigating the terrain and darkness.”
A student raised her hand. Fiachra called on her. “What about drow and svirfneblin?”
“All peoples can be reasoned with. That being said, drow who follow Lolth are raised to be vicious opportunists and can often be cruel. My lecture does not include tactics for swaying the people of Menzoberranzan.”
The lecture went on with little more interruptions, and those questions were civil and insightful. Fiachra was happy to answer them all. “How do you know so much about the Underdark and drow?”
Fiachra clenched his jaw for a moment. These were students asking innocuous questions. They meant no harm. “I’m half drow on my mother’s side.”
“But you don’t look like a drow,” another student commented. His semi-pointed ears flushed under his hair. His tanned skin and sun-bleached brown hair often prompted this comment, and it was one he was not fond of.
“I look like my father. He was a human wizard studying in the Underdark when he met my mother. But I inherited my mother’s eyes- well, eye, now.” He smiled a similar one given to Professor Bakshi and gestured to his untouched, red eye. Students, at least outwardly, accepted this. Some looked a little uncomfortable, but behind Fiachra stood Gale, glowering. It was an uncommon sight, and far more intimidating than the polite half-drow.
The lecture and questions eventually concluded. Fiachra smiled and against Gale’s assumptions, said that he would be loitering around to answer any questions that went unanswered in the time given. That is, if Gale was alright with that.
“Oh! Yes, go right ahead.” A little closer he spoke, “I’m going to go speak with Professor Bakshi. Remember, you don’t have to answer any questions you don’t wish to.”
“I know. Now buzz off, I’m sure they’re all clamoring to ask me about Baldur’s Gate.”
///
Professor Bakshi was grading papers in her office when Gale walked in. She looked up and had a strained expression on her face when she realized who walked through the door. “Professor Dekarios.”
“No need for trivialities, Mina. Call me Gale.” He pulled up a chair and sat down, “You wanted to talk?”
“Ah, yes.” Mina sounded very nervous about the conversation to come, which made Gale very apprehensive about the subject, “It’s about Drustin Waldrik.”
“What about him? I know now that he’s Fiachra’s father, but I’m not sure how that’s important.”
“It’s about what your friend said. He said, uhm, ‘his one and only’ when he said he was his son.” Mina had a book in front of her. It was nondescript, and quickly Gale was fearing whatever it was she was about to reveal.
“Is there something inaccurate in that statement? Fiachra never mentioned having siblings.”
Mina looked terribly ashamed and embarrassed, not on her behalf but on behalf of the subject. “Yes, well, uhm,” she let out a small, uncomfortable laugh, “Waldrik never made mention of having a half drow child. But he, uhm, had quite a few completely human children.”
Something cold and crawling skittered across Gale’s skin and organs. It bit and punctured all along him until he was sure he’d start slowly bleeding out. He never met Waldrik, but his passing was great news only a few years ago at this very academy. “Waldrik had a family? A human family?”
“With a human wife.” Mina opened the book. It was a journal belonging to Drustin Waldrik himself. “His oldest son gave me Waldrik’s notes, believing it was his notes on the Underdark. It is, but it is also his,” she cleared her throat, “personal diary.”
She handed it to Gale, who began thumbing through pages with curious and furious intent. Mina continued, “He never made mention of Fiachra. Only that he should avoid Menzoberranzan in order to escape ‘those who may come looking for me there’, including a woman named Chalaste. I looked her up best I could. She appears to have been a cleric in one of the lower houses, and was murdered by a half drow eighteen years ago.”
“By Mystra’s Weave…” Gale was becoming increasingly upset. All of this information prickled across his body like tiny knives, furthering his sinking feeling. Fiachra had murdered his mother. How old was he? Fiachra was, no matter how low, a part of a house in Menzoberranzan. And his father sired children after him, human children, with a human wife. And Fiachra didn’t know.
“I thought you would be the one to break the news to Fiachra,” Mina half whispered.
“Oh no! I am not doing that.” Gale closed the book quickly. He recalled the earlier moment in the day where it felt like his companion was going to crumble against his chest at the mere thought of the lady Chalaste. He doubted he would fare better with the news that he had half siblings under his father, and that his father was dead. Gale wasn’t sure he knew that either.
“Why not? He deserves to know. I say, as a professor of magic I would’ve assumed you value all knowledge, even the terrible facts.” He could not deny that his colleague was right. All knowledge was important, and Fiachra deserved to know that he had family. But more than that, Fiachra deserved peace, and if Gale could maintain that he would do so as best he could. Ignorance is bliss, and all that. A year ago he would’ve scoffed at the notion, but imagining his friend’s grief at hearing the news was too great a weight to bear.
“I cannot do that to him. And I ask, no, beg of you that you do not tell him either.” It was not a common occurrence for Gale to beg. He had become better than begging.
“Yes, alright. Him and I do not have that sort of relationship anyway. But Gale, do think about it. If he ever decides to look into his family- or Weave forbid they go to Baldur’s Gate- he’ll find out. They live here, you know. In Waterdeep.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”
///
When Gale returned he returned with a smile. The final few students were dispersing with bright attitudes and pleas for Fiachra’s return. “How did it all go?”
“I think… I think they like me.” Gale grabbed his bag and the fighter trailed after him. “I also think I might’ve given them the wrong idea about the nature of our relationship.”
“Students can be quite the wiley things. I’m sure it’s nothing but teasing.” Fiachra wrapped his hand around his elbow as they started to walk.
“Well they made sure to tell me you are quite the eligible bachelor. And asked many, many questions about my love life. Apparently I should be drawing quite the crowd as the savior of Baldur’s Gate.” He ran a hand through his hair. He had a few more earrings than Gale remembered. “Maybe if I wasn’t such a recluse.”
Gale thought of Astarion. Remembered that Fiachra mentioned in letters that they frequented the city’s nights together. He wouldn’t be getting admirers’ letters, not with a dashing pale elf on his arm. “I wouldn’t say you are a recluse. The Baldur’s Mouth Gazette finds you on their front page well enough. Your tastes become the new trends.”
“What? Oh, are you talking about the little scandal section? I swear, I see one show with Shadowheart and suddenly I must be cheating on Astarion. At least the box office was flooded with everyone going to see the burlesque house.”
“I’m surprised Astarion didn’t go with you.” The breeze was warm outside. Gale was glad he had blocked out four days where he wasn’t working. Fiachra’s company was lovely. Astarion was a lucky man.
“He’s not really into that kind of stuff anymore,” Fiachra sniffed, “Even if he was I can’t find him half the time. Really, it’s a miracle I can take him anywhere.”
Gale had assumed that they lived together. Upon further thought, it made sense two reserved men wouldn’t live together, no matter how much they loved one another. Maybe Fiachra was lying about his guest room being unused. Perhaps Astarion would clean it up if Gale wanted to stay in Baldur’s Gate for a few days. “Well I’d be happy to go with you if I’m ever around.”
“Good. I’d like that.” Fiachra’s voice was affectionate. “Do we have plans for lunch?”
The wizard thought about what Professor Rakshi said about his family in Waterdeep. He’d never confess what he knew aloud. But if it appeared, if family passed by, Gale could be there for his friend. “I was thinking we could go out. There’s a wonderful Silvaeren place that Tara has been clamoring I bring leftovers from.”
“Well I can never deny Tara. It would be wonderful to go with you to dine.” The hot wind was getting to the half drow, his ears growing a tinge pink in the noon sun. His tan, scarred, and freckled skin glowed in the sunlight, his features made all the more handsome.
The place was not far, and when they arrived, the maître d' smiled and said something about the famed Professor Dekarios finally finding a companion.
They dined in low lighting, ordering two dishes to share, as well as a glass of Silverymoon Blue for Gale. While they waited, he couldn’t help but fill the silence.
“I realize I don’t know much about you,” Gale had realized that months ago, but had only then drummed up the courage. Fiachra, who had remembered earlier in great detail and who did not know that Gale knew already of his mother, was nervous.
“What is there to know?”
“Well,” he wanted to know everything. He wanted to spend hours pursuing every story his companion had to tell until he had them memorized. “Was it nice having Waldrik as a father?” By the Weave that was a stupid question. A ghost feeling of Fiachra’s clenched fists against his collar bones ached. “Nevermind, you hate him. Must’ve been quite the bastard. I find it difficult to imagine you hating people.”
“I…” Fiachra swirled his drink in his glass. “He was a good father- when he was there. But he was a human and mother was an elf so nothing was really… balanced.”
He took a long sip and looked toward Gale, but did not meet his eye, instead down at his shoulder. “Father didn’t live in the Underdark. But mother wanted to see me, in her own way, mold me , so they made an agreement of custody. Elves live much longer than humans, and their sense of time gets a little fucked up. Drow are worse, we don’t even think in days. Father was a pushover, in the end. He got me for the first ten years of my life and raised me in his tower, and on my birthday…” Fiachra sighed. “he shipped me off into darkness, where I was to spend my next ten years.”
Gale suddenly could not judge even a hair on his companion’s head. How terrible it was, to have such a thing happen to a child. The wizard, learned as he was, knew a little on how male children were raised in Menzoberranzan. “You would’ve been the right age to start working.”
“Yeah. And when those ten years of misery were up, she didn’t let me go. She had plans on where I was to study.”
“Melee-Magthere.” Gale watched Fiachra run a nail along the scar on his face absentmindedly. It was an itch to scratch. Something he was remembering. Melee-Magthere was for sons of noble households of drow, where they would train to become skilled and silent fighters. It was known to be ruthless, and for Gale’s credit he had assumed that the attitude toward the school was connected to the racism the drow faced. But the look on Fiachra’s face spoke to the truth of the knowledge, that it truly was a hideous place.
“Yeah,” his voice was faint and hollow, an exhalation. He rubbed his face with his calloused hands and tugged at a strand of hair. “I couldn’t stand it. I got halfway through the Academy before…”
He trailed off, and Gale didn’t fill the silence. It was a tense few seconds, and a quick couple moments flashed where Gale caught Fiachra’s darting eye in his. Fiachra tugged the strand of hair over his eye. “I don’t want you to think less of me. Or think of me differently.”
The wizard knew what he was going to say. “Whatever it is, I promise you I cast no judgment.”
Who was he to judge anyway? No one, not when Fiachra had lent him kind hand after kind hand when it seemed the whole world was against Gale. When he betrayed his goddess to spend a few more fleeting moments with the fighter. Fiachra moved his hair to look him in the eye and whispered, “I killed my mother, Gale. A cleric of Lolth, a woman of four hundred years. I beat her to death with her own snake whip.”
Gale reached across the table and placed his hand over his friend’s. He needed to say something true, something helpful and something that would lessen the pain. “Not once have I seen you cast an unfair conviction. If you believed she deserved to die, then I believe the same and cannot judge you for it.”
Fiachra’s brow was furrowed and eyes intense. “You… simply forgive me?”
“Forgive you? My dear friend, there is nothing to forgive.” Gale grabbed his hand in his, entwining their fingers. “You did what you needed. If anything, I would be proud.”
The fighter’s features tightened for a second before he laughed. His head tilted forward as he giggled and he squeezed his friend’s hand. “You know, I think you’re one of maybe three people who I’ve ever told. And one is dead!” He burst brightly and hysterically. “No, now that I think about it, you are the only living person who knows beside me.”
The combination of Fiachra’s laughter and that fact did something funny to Gale’s heart. He wanted to hear more of his laugh and see more of his smile. “Well who else knew?”
“Well my dad knew.” There was an underlying bit of weird chuckling to his words, “I told him while I castrated him.” That was a fact Gale distinctly didn’t know and found strange. He didn’t comment. “And of course Astarion.”
Ah. Yes, of course. Gale smiled, “Astarion?”
“He was the first person I ever really told about my parents. It was some late night I spent comforting him about Cazador. Told him all about my masters. I guess it was my way of telling him what you told me. I could never judge him for exacting revenge.”
Gale thought about it. He hadn’t meant for his reassurances to hold some romantic meaning, but when placed in the context of Fiachra and Astarion, he felt that those words were meant to be cherished between lovers. That notion also did something funny to Gale’s heart. He was spared from saying anything as the food arrived and they dug in.
It was delicious, as expected. And the tension inside Gale dissipated as they shared their food and began again to chat idly about random things. Fiachra told him about his jacket and its long history, and Gale told him another story from his time as a student. Eventually they had almost cleared their plates, and Gale produced a small box to place the rest in to take home for Tara. Fiachra insisted on paying for the bill, a quick reminder to himself that he had money to spend, and left a happy tip for the waiter.
When they arrived home, Tara was happy to see them and even more happy to eat the food. She left them to their own devices while she sat on the table and ate. Fiachra stretched his back before unbuttoning his jacket. “I think it would be a nice time for a swim?”
He hung up his jacket and tried his best to look friendly at Gale. Gale was looking a bit confused and surprised. “Swimming? We just ate.”
Fiachra wanted to see Gale have a good time, and had so far only seen him for a handful of hours in two days. “We just walked it off. You won’t find a stitch in your side, and if you do I’ll be sure to bring you to shore.”
Gale’s brows raised in further surprise and a slight blush spread across what was visible of his neck. Fiachra, who had already begun to undo the top buttons of his shirt, realized that Gale’s teaching robe covered him completely from mid-neck down. The day had been warm, and the stuffy outfit couldn’t have been comfortable. He reached through the few feet between them and unclasped the first handful of clasps of his robe until Fiachra could start to see the purple tattoo on his chest. “Come now, it’s no use to be uncomfortable. Nor ashamed. Swim with me.”
The blush had spread to Gale’s chest and Fiachra could see little beads of sweat clinging to his chest hair. Fiachra was set to leave tomorrow, and he needed Gale’s company. One selfish moment where he could see his companion in a light other than friends. Steal sights of skin and touches other than hands to shoulders. He did not retreat to his room. With the top buttons undone, Fiachra untucked his shirt and pulled it over his head and off his body, watching carefully as Gale’s eyes darted to his tanned chest. He hadn’t dared hope Gale was interested in him. For many months he had considered his affection a pipe dream. Perhaps, though, if he was lucky, he could get one good night. He gave his shirt to Gale, who held it dumbly and watched as Fiachra’s deft fingers began to undo the laces of his trousers.
“And if you’re not going to swim, at least fetch me a towel.” Maybe it was a rude thing to say, but he couldn’t watch his friend’s reaction as he turned his back to him, walking toward the porch and still undoing his laces. He stepped out of his shoes and pants and pulled off his stockings. The water glistened invitingly. He knew the water, having swam in it the day before, and was ready. Hoping deeply that Gale’s eyes were on him, he dove over the railing and into the lake. It was a little funny that there was a lake right next to the ocean, but it was a little warmer and for that he was grateful. He swam a little farther out before allowing himself to turn around.
Gale was standing on the porch, Fiachra’s shirt abandoned, and with nimble fingers was undoing the rest of the clasps on his robe. Fiachra internally cheered, thrilled that his plan had worked. Still, he noticed that Gale was going much slower than Fiachra knew he could, as though contemplating something very deep and important. He smiled brightly at the wizard, hoping he’d snap him out of whatever he was thinking. “So are you coming in? The water’s great!”
He punctuated the statement with a little splash of water toward him. Gale’s eyes refocused and shined. “Yes, yes, I’m coming.”
Gale stripped himself of his robe and then his undershirt. He kept his pants on, something Fiachra could not fault him for when he was getting an eyeful of Gale’s bare skin. In his months recovering from the tadpole adventure, he had grown softer and heavier. It was something Fiachra admired greatly, being a man who never had the opportunity to gain weight and even with surplus food, weight never seemed to stay. And he was hairy, something he also liked about him. Being a half-drow, Fiachra did not have all that much body hair, leaving him feeling a bit sparse. But Gale was covered neck to foot in coarse, dark hair. All of this to say that the man standing on the porch was absolutely stunning.
He leaned over the railing, examining the water. “I think I’ll uh, come around from the shore.”
Gale shuffled down the steps of his porch and through the shoreline of his backyard. Fiachra watched carefully as his trousers got wet and started to stick to his thighs. He swam a little further away from the shore, hoping to tempt Gale in. It worked, and Gale dove into the water. The wizard’s strong arms breached the water again and again as he swam over to his companion. He appeared less than two feet away, hair plastered to his face. Fiachra reached out and smoothed it back, clearing it from his eyes. “Water’s nice, right?”
Gale blinked a few rogue droplets from his eyes, “A tad bracing, but that’s to be expected. Overall it’s very pleasant.”
Fiachra could’ve kissed him at that moment. It would’ve been so simple to clear those few feet and plant a kiss to his lips. But for all his earlier confidence, he was flushed seeing Gale dripping and flexing his muscles to stay afloat. So instead he said, “I’m going to take a small lap around your neighbor’s area. Your house to a few houses over and back.”
He started off deeper into the water before turning right. A few houses was an ambitious goal, but one he could certainly accomplish. He was less confident about Gale’s stamina, but would be perfectly content if Gale watched him from his porch. Fiachra was, from much experience, a very good swimmer. He had many times in his survival swam upstream, or across rivers carrying all his supplies. Notably he would have to clear bodies of water with a hand staying dry to hold his journal before he found a waterproof bag to keep it in. So with ease and grace he swam for many minutes past a couple houses, and then for more minutes back. The loop finished, and he returned to the shallower area where the wizard was.
Light and joy danced on Gale, happily as Fiachra felt, though without the distinct ache in him. How funny was that? He had what he wanted. Oh, but Fiachra knew that wasn’t true, and couldn’t convince himself that he was. He was happy, yes, he was happy, but contentedness had stayed back in Baldur’s Gate and would have fled when he returned.
So he was staring at Gale, wishing. His body felt the pressure of the water from all sides. Framed by Waterdeep, Gale was at home, and Fiachra was simply a visitor. A friend.
“Everything alright?” He must’ve noticed his friend was simply treading water. Fiachra smiled.
“Just thinking,” he swallowed and Gale smiled back. He splashed water at him.
“Quite the noble endeavor, and one I commend you for, but swimming is not a thought-heavy exercise. If you’re ready to be done, that’s alright.”
“No,” Fiachra might’ve said it too quickly. He began to swim again. “I’m not ready to be done. The water’s nice.”
The heavy burden of wonted want thinned his voice and made it wispy and sighing. He sunk under the water, the world dissipating into a quiet thrum. Daylight dispersed like a million dancing angels. He wasn’t ready to leave Waterdeep.
And what would Astarion think? Fiachra had confided his feelings for the wizard to him, uneasy and unsure as he was. When Astarion invited him to the opera and he had to decline due to his trip, Astarion smiled smugly and wished him luck. If he came home with bad news Astarion was sure to be unimpressed and relentless in his pushing. He could hear it now. Really, the savior of Baldur’s Gate, brave enough to face the Absolute, couldn’t tell a wizard he liked him?
He raised his head from the water and swam over to the shore. “Gale, I think you’re right. I am done with swimming.”
///
After all the day was done, the two friends retired. Dressed in comfortable satin and velvet they reclined in the living room, watching the breeze sway through the evening. The sun had set right below the horizon, wishing farewell to the day with one final splash of light upon the sky.
Tea sat half drunk on the counter. On the couch they lounged lazily, content and full of food and drink: Two warm bodies leaning next to each other, letting the final moments of sunlight fade.
“I’m really glad I got to visit you,” Fiachra smiled. “I missed you.”
Gale’s heart skipped a beat. The quiet had been interrupted, and with such unexpected words. Of course he had missed him just as much, but he dared not say it first. “I missed you too.”
Fiachra blushed. It was a wonderful sight. The fighter grabbed little bits of his feathered hair and hid behind it. He smiled a crooked smile. “It’s funny, actually.” He didn’t look at Gale, but dropped the hiding and looked out at the night. “I was so curious about you. When we traveled together. But I never wanted to pry. You were so caught up in the orb and with Mystra and all that magical chaos that I… I don’t know.”
He pattered off, leaving Gale to grasp at threads. Heat started to run around his chest. His heart started to flutter. “Please, whatever you are saying, please finish your thought.”
“It’s silly, really. I was absolutely smitten with you and did nothing about it. I guess with the world almost ending and with you almost dying I didn’t consider it a priority. Really, I didn’t think you’d consider it all that important.”
“Your feelings?” Gale asked near incredulously. Of all things said he couldn’t believe that the most. Had he been unkind? “I hoped as your companion I was attentive to your thoughts and feelings. I am deeply sorry if I neglected you in our time together.”
“No!” Fiachra grasped his hand before letting go just as quickly. “You were never rude, or dismissive, or any of that. But you had a lot going on and I wasn’t going to stress you or burden you with my wants and desires. And, well, you always seemed off in your mind during camp.”
“What do you mean by that?” Gale recounted the many nights he spent thinking about the fighter. From an outside perspective, he supposed, he must’ve looked lost in thought.
“Whenever I looked over at you, which,” Fiachra laughed awkwardly, “admittedly was quite often, you were always looking through me.”
So there it was. Fiachra had assumed he wasn’t interested in him. That of course was as far from the truth as they were from Mephistopheles’ palace. Gale furrowed his brow. “So you aren’t with Astarion?”
“What?” Fiachra balked. Gale blushed furiously and looked away. Then he looked back at him. And then away again.
“You and Astarion. At camp you two always flirted. And uh, at the tiefling party…. I had thought… since I had offered to spend the night with you and you declined, that you were uninterested. And then I saw you two go off together. And then you came back half naked…” Gale cleared his throat. His eyes darted to his companion. Fiachra, with his one good eye, stared widely at him. Shock and confusion covered his face openly. “Oh come now the presumption isn’t so… presumptuous.”
Fiachra made a few quiet and aborted noises. “You were offering yourself that night?!”
Gale nodded, “Was that not obvious? I believe I said the words, ‘There’s something rather magical I wish to show you’.”
The fighter put his head in his hands, letting out a miserable sigh. He ground the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I could’ve had you, then? All those months ago?”
“It seems both of us were quite foolish.” Gale didn’t want to say more, but a question was on the tip of his tongue. Two, really. “What did you think I was offering if not myself?”
“A magic trick!” He cried exasperatedly. “You said you’d show me ‘something magical’ and that’s what I understood would happen!” His outburst would’ve been even a tad comical, were it not for the serious weariness straining his voice. When Fiachra turned to him he showed his good eye, which was glazed with tears. “Gale,” he wiped a hand across his face stubbornly, “I don’t… get things like you do. I’m not smart and can’t understand when something means two things at once.”
Gale knew this to be untrue. He had watched Fiachra worm his way through the guilds and thieves and liars with words and intimidation. But he also knew the kind of struggle Fiachra was talking about. This was his other question. “Let me ask a clear question, then. One that is simple and has but one meaning: you said you were smitten with me on our adventures. Is that to say you are no longer?”
He would accept any answer his companion gave him. Even if it hurt. Even if that would be the last night he ever saw him. A fighter always, Fiachra moved smoothly and purposefully. He wrapped two hands at the junctions between Gale’s neck and jaw and pulled him to a kiss. It was quick, punctual, but distinct and lasted a moment longer than a chaste peck. Gale was elated, head swimming. His fighter’s warm hands rested on him, fingers entwining with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I am still smitten with you, Gale.”
Fiachra gave him another short, giddy kiss, this time on the corner of his mouth. “Gale, I would have never come to lecture at your academy unless I was absolutely in love with you.”
“Oh give yourself some credit. You’re surely kind enough to have lectured were it Astarion who had asked.”
“Yes, well he is in Baldur’s Gate. I would hardly have to travel. But to come out here, to Waterdeep? I must love you very much.” Fiachra was giddy in his own, quiet way. His smile was small, but his words were very meaningful and he found great pleasure in saying them. Gale felt the intensity of every word, as if spilling from his companion’s compact heart, which had for so long stood waiting to confess.
Gale felt such a similar way. Oh yes, Fiachra was correct that Gale had been caught up in the moments of adventure. His heart, which had been confused year after year of his life, found sudden clarity in the fighter’s words. Complex feelings and ideas settled under the nerves as entirely simple thoughts. Yes, yes, love . He loved Fiachra. He kissed him again, excited with the idea. He felt very silly, a grown man of thirty six blushing like a schoolchild with a crush. But he was so happy with it. With him. He kissed him again.
Giddier still Gale was that Fiachra kissed him back. Their noses brushed and hair fell into each others’ faces. They were warm and content. Fiachra took Gale’s face in his calloused hands and kissed his lips, then his cheek, then down to his jaw and neck. He laid onto him and rested his face in the crook of his clavicle. He wrapped his arms on his shoulders and closed his eyes, perfectly content to rest there.
Gale let him rest. How happy he was to let him. He pressed a kiss to his hair and looked out at the evening. Darkness had truly fallen over the water. With a gentle cantation he lit the candles in the room. Fiachra did not move from his spot atop Gale. Gale, careful not to jostle him, cast mage hand to fetch a book for him. He read for a half hour, before the sound of little feet came from the doorway. A mage hand of not his own creation turned the doorknob and soon Tara came pattering in.
“Oh, Mr. Dekarios, I see that finally someone has fallen for your charms. My boy, I am so happy for you. It was about time one of you confessed.” The tressym slinked over to sit atop the armrest, claws digging into the material. Gale smiled and looked down at the man asleep on his chest, then paused.
“One of us?” He asked, “Are you to say that you knew about both our feelings?”
Tara ruffled her wings and preened slightly, “I am quite the confidant. Your little fighter speaks with me.”
“You didn’t think to inform me of this?”
“It was not my place. A good confidant never spills secrets and I pride myself on being a good listener.” Tara flapped her wings, rustling Fiachra’s hair gently as her paws lifted off the couch, “Do take care of him, Mr. Dekarios, he has a good heart.”
She disappeared up the stairs to her room, a walk-in closet that had been stripped and made into her personal library, complete with a tiny curtain at the bottom of the door.
Gale suddenly felt the particular effects of the day wear on him. Drowsiness came over his eyes and sluggishness filled his body. Fiachra, still asleep on him, did nothing to quell the urge to fall asleep right there. But a gentleman would never allow his companion to wake with a crick in his neck, and they deserved to sleep in a bed. “Fiachra,” Gale spoke gently and put a hand on his shoulder, “I think we should move to bed about now.”
Fiachra rubbed his face against his neck and started to wake. He shifted and moved to lay upright in Gale’s lap. He opened his one good eye to stare at him for a moment, “Yes, I suppose so.”
He groaned while getting up, before offering a hand to Gale, who gladly took it. The two of them made their way upstairs, and with Fiachra’s hand in his, Gale led him to his bedroom. Fiachra blushed but said nothing, instead taking off his shirt and standing there. Gale got into bed and beckoned him over, which had him following and crawling in after. The two of them laid in bed, Fiachra’s arm over Gale’s waist.
“I’m very glad I visited,” he whispered, and placed a kiss to his companion’s neck.
“I am too.”