Chapter Text
Gale was likely going to become the most powerful wizard of his generation - perhaps of all time. Elminster himself, centuries old, wisest of sages, lover of fine wines and Waterdhavian cheese, had said so. He was also going to be the very first chosen of the goddess of magic herself, upon her impending resurrection. Elminster had made that very clear. These were all excellent things for a young and ambitious wizard like himself to hear.
So why, Gale wondered, staring blankly into the bottom of his cup, did he feel quite so very miserable?
He waved a hand at the barkeep.
“Another, please. Thank you.”
It was his favourite wine and he was, in theory, celebrating. As the young woman topped up his glass, he eyed her. A year or so ago, he would probably have been trying to turn on the charm. A year or so ago, he would probably also have been surrounded by friends - not drinking himself into a stupor on his own at the bar of the Yawning Portal, feeling bitterly jealous of every laughing, joking, and smiling patron that filled the place, for the third time in the last three days - and the tenth time in the last ten-day, et cetera, ad nauseum.
Gale lifted the freshly filled cup to his mouth and sipped. It was rich and sweet and tasted like Waterdeep itself. It gave him none of the joy that it used to.
“I’ll wager," an unfamiliar voice to Gale's left, "that your cup is filled with Blackstaff,” Gale turned to see that another patron had sidled up next to him and taken a seat at the barstool beside his, smiling warmly. He was an elf with white hair and pale skin. His delicate features were balanced out by a rather intense look in his eyes, his very red eyes.
After taking the man in, Gale frowned at his comment. He hadn’t asked for the drink by name - the bartenders here knew his order and poured him a glass the moment he walked in the door. He’d spent rather a lot of time drowning his ambiguous sorrows over the last few months. The wine was unremarkable in appearance, but it was fairly common in the city.
“Lucky guess,” he replied and nodded to his new neighbour.
“Not at all,” The elf replied. His face sported a strange sort of smile - the sort of smile one offered close friends and family, not strangers in bars.
“Alright, enlighten me - how did you know?”
The man chuckled, ignored Gale, and waved to the bartender. “A Berduskan. Lovely, thank you.”
“Berduskan?” Gale repeated, not quite believing his ears. The stuff was strong enough to fell an ox. He looked the man up and down. He was slender, pale, young - not a hardened sailor or seasoned drunkard.
“I’m rather fond of the flavour.”
“Better you than me,” Gale shrugged and turned his attention back to his own drink. As much as he welcomed the distraction, handsome elves in bars would not solve any of his issues - whatever they may be.
As his wine was poured, he made no effort to hide the fact that he was staring at Gale - which wasn’t uncommon, in itself. Gale knew that he was fairly attractive. He had a good head of hair that he kept well-trimmed and stylish. He shaved each morning, lest he incur the wrath of his mother’s tutting or Tara’s disapproval. Gale even made sure to dress the part of a wizard, while incorporating the latest fashions into his robes. Currently, monochrome was quite in and his robes were black and form-fitting.
However, he was not accustomed to the sort of stare that he was receiving. The stranger was looking at him with almost… shock, like he couldn’t really believe what he was seeing. It was a little too much for Gale’s mental bandwidth to cope with.
“Do you mind?” He snapped, rolling his eyes as the stranger simply arched an eyebrow at him and smirked.
“Not really. You don’t look like you’re having a good day, my friend. Anything you’d like to unburden yourself of?”
Gale snorted.
“To a complete stranger who’s mentally undressing me in a bar? Not really.”
The elf’s smirk widened. “I wasn’t mentally undressing you.”
“Really?”
“No.”
“Then what were you doing?”
“Noticing how poorly your clothes suit you - all this black washes you out something terrible, darling. Not to mention the haircut - it does nothing for your face shape.”
“Everyone’s a critic,” Gale forced out through gritted teeth. He came here to drink, not add new items to the list of things he felt anxious about. His stylish haircut was all wrong and his brand-new robes made him look pasty - great.
“Not a criticism - just an observation. You’re trying to be someone else. Why is that?”
“Apparently you know me better than I know myself, so why don’t you tell me?”
“I’d love to, my dear, but I’m rather stumped by it. Do all wizards in this city look so miserable all the time?” The stranger sounded genuinely curious. Gale sighed.
“Probably not, no.”
“Then what’s got your wand in a twist?”
“None of your damned business.”
“Fair enough. Just making conversation.”
“Do all your attempts at conversation involve insulting someone’s appearance and prying into their private affairs?”
“Forgive me, I truly wasn’t trying to insult you - quite the opposite, really. Under that silly outfit and cropped hair, you’re quite gorgeous.”
Gale was briefly taken aback by the compliment. It sounded surprisingly real, like this stranger was baring his soul to Gale and felt quite comfortable doing so. He felt himself blush a little under that strange and unyielding gaze.
“Right. Well… thank you, I suppose.”
“You’re very welcome,” the elf replied, sipping from his cup and continuing to stare and smirk.
It was at that moment, while trying to find just about anything to focus on other than the heat in his cheeks and the weight of the stranger’s gaze, that Gale's attention was snagged by something peculiar about him - a certain aura or disturbance in the weave. He slipped his hand under the bar and coughed into the other, disguising the incantation and somatic movements.
In an instant, Gale’s awareness broadened to the whole of the tavern and streets outside. The few tieflings that were scattered among the other patrons and passersby seemed to hum at him with a faintly fiendish glow. Other than that, the only noteworthy response to his little spell was the man before him.
A strong, necrotic impression emanated from him. The man’s surroundings seemed to swirl with death and decay - with bloodlust and wrongness. The elf held Gale’s gaze, lifted his glass to his lips and his smirk widened.
“I see that you’re as clever as you look. Yes - guilty as charged, well done. Do we have a problem?” The vampire asked. Gale’s eyes were drawn to the man’s mouth as he smiled. He caught a glimpse of his elongated canines, where his lips pulled back. He still seemed so at ease, so laid back and content, despite being discovered.
“That rather depends on your intentions.”
“A few more glasses of wine, perhaps a nice chat.”
“Followed by a light snack?”
He chuckled and shook his head.
“Don’t worry, darling. I have already had my fill of ethically sourced nourishment this evening. Your arteries are quite safe.”
Ethically sourced? In all his studies, Gale had never heard of vampires caring about where they found their meals. But, he’d also never heard of them frequenting taverns for idle chit-chat and wine that had no effect on them - he’d never heard of them eating or drinking anything but blood.
And yet, sitting before him was a vampire sipping away at a glass of Berduskan and smiling back at Gale rather amiably. How… fascinating. The young wizard felt his curiosity piqued.
“Alright,” Gale said, settling back in his chair. “But I assure you that my little detection spell just then was far from the extent of my abilities.”
“I don’t doubt it. I’d wager that you’re a wizard - one of considerable power too. Am I wrong?”
“No. Though, most wizards consider themself to be of considerable power.”
“But you don’t just consider it - you know it.”
“I do.” Gale nodded, “But how, exactly, do you?”
The stranger smirked again, as though he knew a secret. If the elf was some sort of spy or assassin, he was terrible at hiding it.
“You look like a powerful wizard.”
“A powerful wizard with a bad haircut and poorly selected clothes?”
“A powerful wizard with an ego the size of Faerûn and poor self-preservation instincts.”
“Well, if I had good ones then I probably wouldn’t still be chatting to you - I’d have run away and called the city watch.”
“And told them what? A vampire called you gorgeous in a bar and bought you a drink? Also, I notice that you didn’t contest the ego thing.”
“I’m nothing if not self-aware, and you haven’t bought me a drink.”
“Down that one and I will,” he winked and grinned at Gale. Gale found himself smiling back and lifting his glass to his lips again.
“You’re awfully forward, aren't you?”
“Only when I know I’m talking to someone worth the effort.”
Gale felt his heart flutter a little - then he cursed himself. He had bigger fish to fry than a crush on some random vampire he met in a bar. So what if the man was intriguing and entrancing and seemed to know more than he was letting on? So what if he looked criminally attractive in his rather splendid red outfit - the burgundy fabric embroidered with golden threads in swirling patterns over the shoulders and buttoned in the middle with ornate golden fastenings - so what?
Elminster had been very clear. Gale was to be the chosen of the Mother of Magic herself. He couldn’t afford distractions.
“I suspect that you are barking up the wrong tree there, my friend.”
The stranger cocked his head to one side.
“Why’s that?”
Gale sighed, “A year ago, I’d have dragged you into the outhouse in a heartbeat - trust me. These days my life is a little… complicated.”
His words were met with a snort and a shrug. “Complicated is my middle name, darling - and rest assured that I have no interest in being dragged into an outhouse by you, or indeed anyone else.”
There was a playfulness to his words and Gale found himself chuckling back.
“I’m glad. I’d hate to disappoint.”
“I think you’d struggle to do that, Gale. Don’t worry.”
Gale frowned and played back their conversation in his mind. Had he told the man his name? Had the bartender said it? Not that he could recall.
He looked up and saw that the stranger was smirking at him with that overly familiar look again. The man looked rather pleased with himself too.
“Ah - you’re wondering how I know your name.” The words sounded practised and he spoke them as though he was savouring each syllable.
“I am, yes. Care to explain?”
“Not really - but I promise it’s nothing nefarious.”
“And I’d believe you, why?”
“Because I’m very trustworthy - cross my fangs.”
“How did you know what I’m drinking? A spell?”
“I haven’t a magical bone in my body - well, except for the fact that they keep moving despite my congealed blood and cold, dead heart.”
“Then how?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“I’d love to, sweetheart, really, but now’s not the time. Maybe next week.”
“What’s happening next week?” Gale asked, raising his glass to his mouth.
“I’ve no idea, but I’m hoping it involves you, me, and more wine.”
Gale almost choked on a mouthful of his drink.
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“No,” the vampire replied suddenly, shaking his head and huffing out an embarrassed laugh. “Not tonight.”
“What in the hells are you talking about?”
He fell silent and hummed into his glass, opening his mouth to speak before shaking his head and closing it again. After a moment, he looked back up at Gale with a wry smile, he huffed out a bitter chuckle and opened his mouth again.
“You know, I had a friend, years ago, who was great at this sort of thing. I’m starting to think that I underestimated him.”
“What sort of thing?”
“Never mind. So, same time next week?” The vampire asked, draining his cup and tossing a few silver pieces on the bar - enough for his own glass and more. “I did say I’d buy you one, didn't I? So, enjoy it.” He rose to his feet and headed for the door, calling out behind him, “Goodbye, Gale,” as he left.
Gale turned to watch the man saunter out of the tavern and into the night, rather more quickly than one tends to move when one feels at ease. As the door swung shut behind him, Gale blinked rapidly and frowned at it.
What the fuck? He thought.
“What the actual fuck?” He mumbled, to no one in particular.