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Sunrise
It was the biggest funeral Waterdeep has seen for a long time. The saviour of Baldur’s Gate, and former head of the Blackstaff Academy, Gale Dekarios had many old friends, students and admirers pay their last respects at his funeral. He had left the mortal realm with a complete legacy of stories and achievements. But he also left behind a husband.
Gale met his husband at the lowest point of his life. After his folly, thinking things couldn’t be worse, they got worse when a nautiloid kidnapped him and a tadpole was put in his head. Gale always claimed that in hindsight, this was the best that ever happened to him.
He often recalled meeting his husband and told the story to anyone who would listen. He was stuck in a waypoint, but a kind stranger pulled him out and saved him from a terrible fate.
“‘Kind’ is perhaps not the correct word, back then. Even though my husband has a heart of gold, he couldn’t show it back then. He even said my name as if it was vulgar even to utter it!” Gale would laugh.
His husband would smile, and argue that “ a wizard being stuck in his own magic portal? It was hardly a promising introduction, darling.”
Guests were leaving. Kind words were spoken to Astarion, hands were placed on his shoulder, promises of meeting again soon were made, but he didn’t pay attention to any of it. His stare was fixed on the tombstone with his husband’s name engraved in it. A sight he knew was inevitable, but that didn’t mean it hurt less when it became reality.
Leaving the graveyard, returning to the empty tower, would make this too real. The fact that life goes on would hit him in the face. The silence in the library, where he knew he could always find Gale if he wasn’t anywhere else, would be too much. He didn’t want life to go on, so he didn’t move.
It wasn’t fair. It was unfair that he had to watch how Gale grew older while he never changed. It was impossible to see how his mind slipped away due to old age. His memory wasn’t what it used to be, and it only got worse over time. It was painful to see how the once great wizard had trouble speaking the spells that used to be like childsplay to him. The moment he couldn’t move his hands fast enough anymore for the somatic component of his spells broke Atsarion’s heart as much as Gale’s. They knew the end was near, and there was no way they could save each other this time.
The evening turned into night, and Astarion knelt down after his legs grew weary. He fondled his ring, and recalled memories of his darling wizard, trying to hold on to what’s left of him, like he did when he was still with him.
Gale was kind to Astarion. He showed him sympathy about being a vampire spawn, needing blood to survive, like he needed to feed his orb pieces of the Weave. Gale was his support, he could confide in him, and he could be himself in his presence. Gale had saved him from his past, and from taking the power that Cazador was after. In return, Astarion cursed Mystra’s plans on Gale’s behalf after she demanded his sacrifice, and he convinced Gale that he was perfect the way he was.
They balanced each other in the tumultuous first year after they met. After they saved the sword coast, and most importantly, each other, they decided they deserved a quiet life in Waterdeep. They needed time to heal, and peace to enjoy each other.
While Gale made a career as a professor, his life’s work was finding a cure for Astarion. The powers he had as a vampire spawn were not worth the limits. His hunger he could control, but being able to walk in the sun, and grow old with Gale, was something he would have given anything for.
The ring was a solution to one of these problems; Gale had tracked down the Sunwalker’s Gift, a magical item that would protect Astarion against the sun. The rest of the research proved fruitless.
The soft orange glow of the sunrise touched the roofs and the tops of the trees around the graveyard, slowly creeping down the walls. Astarion sighed, bowed his head and saw how the tear on his cheek fell down, landing on his beloved’s grave.
“Mr Dekarios?”
Astarion didn’t bother looking around to see who addressed him. “That’s me. The other one is unavailable at the moment.” He winced and let the self-loathing roll over him. How could he already make sarcastic jokes about his sweet wizard?
“I’m here on behalf of Mystra. She asked me to send you a message.”
Astarion turned around and looked up into a familiar face. Many years ago, he wanted to give him a black eye because he dared to ask Gale to blow himself up on behalf of Mystra. He wasn’t sure he wanted to listen to Mystra’s condolences, even if it was supposed to be an honour receiving them from a goddess.
He turned his gaze back to the ground. “This is not the right moment, Elminster.”
“I am sure you want to hear it, and I will tell you about her decision anyway. Mystra knows about Gale’s search to cure your vampirism. She understands why it was so important to both of you. The reunion of souls she has a claim to, that have been parted in death, warms her heart. She does not wish to deny Gale his most important reunion.”
Astarion furrowed his brows.
“When it is your time, Mr Dekarios, Mystra will not leave your soul unclaimed.”
He lifted his head, the rays of sunlight warmed the cool air as their reach grew. The line separating the daylight from shadows was nearly touching the tip of the tombstone.
“In that case, I think my time is now.”
“Rest in peace, Mr Dekarios.”
Astarion smiled. “Yes, I think I will.”
He took off his ring and held it firmly in his hand. “I will meet you soon, my love,” he whispered.
The light of the sun warmed his face. It was comfortable at first, but it quickly started to burn. It didn’t bother him, he had endured so much more pain before, and this time, it would be worth it a hundred times over. He stood up, walked towards the tombstone while he was already falling apart and picked up by the wind. The moment the ring touched the tombstone, there was no soul to be found in the graveyard.