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2023-12-02
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Might Just Make It

Summary:

“What's he like?” she asks. “Your wizard?”

He seems to think about it for a moment.

“Arrogant,” he finally says. “Insufferably clever. He claimed he could have been Mystra's Chosen, but he turned her down.”

The group (sans Tav) meet Astarion by the beach. They don't meet Gale. If you ask Astarion, that just means they have to look harder.

Notes:

I wrote this in one go and now it's 2 am and I'm posting without editing because I need sleep and patience is a thing I'll deal with another time.

Concrit is always welcome. Rudeness is not.

I am so sorry for switching fandoms YET AGAIN OMG. /o\

(See the end of the work for more notes and other works inspired by this one.)

Work Text:

They meet him at the water’s edge, pale and wild-eyed and unable to stand still. The sun is high in the sky, bathing the world in light.

It's been a long time since Karlach last saw that sun.

“Have you seen a wizard?” is the first thing he asks.

“Who are you?” is the second thing he asks, only offered when their first reply is ‘no.’

He has a tadpole, just like them, and so they invite him into their little group. A half-elf, a githyanki, a tiefling and an elf. What a strange collection of travelers they make.

It's clear he'll only follow them until he reaches his own goals, but that's fine. If there's anything Karlach can respect, it's pragmatism.

She does wonder about his insistence they find a wizard, though. Not like a wizard is likely to heal them. Wouldn't a cleric make more sense?

He doesn't elaborate on anything, however, and so she'll have to keep trying to puzzle it out herself.

It's the damnedest thing, but right now, Karlach has bigger problems.

They meet The Blade of Frontiers at the druids’ grove. Karlach resigns herself to a fight, but a few sharp words from Astarion about the trickery of devils are all it takes for them to end up allies.

If only she had his way with words. Zariel might have let her keep her heart and given her an infernal tongue instead. No chance of setting you on fire, an infernal tongue, right?

Then again, there's no use in dreaming about what might have happened, is there. Gortash might not have sold her. She might have killed Zariel and gone home. The spheres might have opened up and some god might have come to her rescue. Might, might, might.

Wyll gets turned into a devil for sparing her.

He might yet live to hate her for it.

Once inside the grove, Karlach is pleased to find Astarion a wizard.

Well, more of an apprentice, really, but a little magical fire power is better than no magical fire power, right? They make a deal: an escort to Baldur's Gate for Rolan and his two siblings in exchange for his assistance along the way.

But when Karlach finds Astarion to tell him the good news, he turns out less than pleased.

“What in the nine hells would I want a tiefling for?” he snaps.

“You were looking for a wizard, weren't you?” Karlach replies, confused.

“A specific wizard,” he says, enunciating each word like he thinks Karlach is stupid.

He probably does. His sort always do. Not like it matters, anyway.

He might have specified earlier, though, she thinks as he watches him go back to interrogating every person who crosses his path. She's too far away to hear him, but at least the gestures now make sense and she can imagine the words to go along with them: a wizard, yea high, last seen thereabouts.

Were they friends, she wonders. Does the wizard want to be found? Is he even still alive?

Why is Astarion looking so desperately?

Their pale acerbic Astarion turns out to be a pale acerbic vampire, because of course he does. Wyll is ready to sharpen the stakes, but Karlach only has to shoot him a look and he pulls back, shame caught in the twist of his mouth.

Always so quick to judge, their shining hero. You'd think he'd learn about books and their covers at some point. Especially with how much he likes to read.

At least by now they know that Astarion's wizard was on the nautiloid with him. If he fell out of it like they did, they might still find him on their way. Maybe that druid Halsin could help, once they've rescued him and he got rid of their tadpoles. Druids know the wilderness, right? He could probably just… ask a tree, or something.

Right?

Halsin can't heal them, and he doesn't know anything about Astarion's wizard. Karlach doesn't let the disappointment slow her down. They have a new goal: Moonrise Towers, where they might find out more about the Absolute.

And rescue Wyll's father, while they're at it.

Not everyone shares her optimism, though. Shadowheart only cares about her spiky trinket, Lae’zel only wants to reach the githyanki creche. Astarion…

Astarion is still looking, but he grows quieter by the day. Karlach knows the feeling of fading hope. She doesn't like it.

So after they've dealt with the goblins and the celebration is in full swing, she walks past Rolan and his fireworks and hands Astarion a bottle of wine.

“Don't know if you can taste it,” she says, “but the alcohol’s gotta be good for something, right?”

He makes a face, but doesn't send her away. Instead, they stand side by side in front of his tent, each of them drinking from their own bottle.

“What's he like?” she asks. “Your wizard?”

He seems to think about it for a moment.

“Arrogant,” he finally says. “Insufferably clever. He claimed he could have been Mystra's Chosen, but he turned her down.”

A snort, a drink, a pause.

“I believed him.” Astarion looks up, like he's studying the lack of clouds above them. “He's… very good at what he does. Don't,” he adds, “tell him I said that. His ego is quite large enough.”

“Must be nice,” Karlach says, tilting her head back to look at the skies. “Believing in someone.”

“Yes.” Astarion takes a deep breath. It sounds a little shaky. “It is.”

They drink and watch the stars spin by, silent as they always are.

“He's probably dead,” Astarion murmurs.

“He might not be,” Karlach replies, equally quiet.

Astarion says nothing, and Karlach sighs.

Might, might, might.

When they reach the githyanki creche, Astarion only asks about half the people there if they've seen his wizard before he gives it up as a lost cause. Karlach figures it's because there haven't been any replies that weren't a sneered “istik!” and a refusal to engage.

When they stumble across the Harpers shortly after they reach the shadow-cursed lands, Astarion only asks if they've come across any strangers, without his accompanying yea-high gestures. Karlach has to admit she's getting a little worried.

When they reach the Last Light Inn and Astarion only scans the faces without asking anything at all, Karlach knows he's giving up.

“What does he look like, anyway?” she asks him, a strange urgency beating inside her along with her newly-fixed engine. Astarion is not allowed to give up looking for his wizard. He isn't!

“Like a wizard,” Astarion says without much interest.

“Okay, but how did you meet?” Karlach presses. No! Giving! Up!

Astarion looks at her, tiredness in every line of him.

“Do you really want to know?” he asks, with a subdued wave of his fingers beside his face.

The tadpole. Karlach nods.

And then she's on the streets of Baldur's Gate, following her master's orders. She's in a pod and a mindflayer holds a tadpole to her eye. She's in a pod and someone's just opened it, reaching out to slow her fall as she slumps toward the ground, bright eyes smug smile connection oh that mind is unlike anything Cazador's been throwing at her for the past two hundred years.

A tenday spent sneaking around the ship, looking for a way out. Their other companions picked off one by one. A tenday to learn each other inside and out, mind to mind as they share each other's strengths, compensate for each other's weaknesses. A tenday, and then-

A crash. Smoke. Pain. She can't move. Footsteps, voices, too close. No time to make it to the restoration point.

“I only have enough left for one spell,” the wizard says. He's bleeding. He's got to make it out.

“Better make it count then, darling,” she says, and it's permission, it's goodbye, it's leave-me-here.

“I will,” the wizard says, and, “I'm sorry,” and he leans over, leans down, lips to hers, gods-

And she's back in her own mind, heaving for breath as she tries to reorient herself in a body that feels too large to be hers.

“That fucker cast invisibility on me,” Astarion rasps, curling in on himself. “I saw two cambions drag him away, and then the ship exploded. Next thing I knew, I was on a sunlit beach and he… wasn't.”

“I'm sorry,” Karlach says, because she doesn't know what else to say.

“Aren't we all, my dear.” Astarion's voice is bitter. “Aren't we all.”

He's quiet, after that. No quips as they make it through Reithwin and the absurd Thorm family. Barely a word as they help Halsin free Thaniel, as they finally enter Moonrise Towers.

Karlach herself is too overwhelmed by everything to exchange more than a few sentences with him. Ketheric Thorm is undead! Shadowheart must face her goddess's challenges so they can find the Nightsong and undo Ketheric’s undeadness! There's a fat… zombie or whatever who's also trying to find the Nightsong! The Nightsong is a whole person!

“This isn't what I expected when I agreed to come with you!” Rolan shouts as he fires another magic missile at one of Ketheric's skeleton servants.

“Yeah, sorry!” Karlach shouts back.

Gods, she hopes he doesn't die here. She hopes none of them die here. She hopes they make it out and back into the sunlight and they'll get rid of the tadpoles and of Astarion's horrid master and her engine will be fixed for good and there'll be flowers and butterflies and all the other nice things people think of when they think of nice things.

Who knows? It might even happen.

Then the giant tentacle bursts out of the tower wall and slaps the Nightsong out of the sky and squishes yet another of Karlach’s ‘mights’ right out of existence.

Fuck everything. Really.

There's a mindflayer colony under Moonrise Towers, because of course there is. They sneak through disgustingly fleshy hallways and step into puddles of disgustingly drippy… things, and stay far away from anything that might draw any unwelcome attention.

Well. Except for mercy-killing that one bugbear. And except for freeing that one intellect devourer and letting it tag along. And except for solving that one sparkly puzzle. Aaaand except for eradicating that huge group of enemies who were trying to do some nefarious ritual or whatever, Karlach honestly didn't pay much attention after the Death Shepherd started summoning zombies at them.

They avoid any unwelcome attention except for those. Until they reach the room with the mindflayer pods. Then all hells break loose, because of course they do.

Of course they do.

“Get these open!” Astarion snaps, fumbling along the edges of one of the pods as if looking for seams or levers or some other way to pry the lid from the rest of it.

“That will release the mindflayers!” Shadowheart snaps right back, still pale from all the shit that's been happening to her.

They're all having one heck of a time, aren't they.

“I don't care!” Astarion starts prodding at one of the consoles that line the room. “We'll kill them all! We're marvelous at killing! Get them open!”

“Hey, is that-” Rolan begins, and that's when every pod in the room pops open and the mindflayers attack.

They are marvelous at killing, though.

Astarion's right about that.

“What the hells was that?!” Shadowheart demands, but Astarion doesn't pay her any attention.

Astarion is kneeling next to one of the people who remained people when they popped out of the pods.

Astarion is kneeling next to one of the people and cursing like it's the last time he'll get the chance.

“You're an imbecile,” he tells his person while he's patting them down. Karlach can't tell if he's looking for injuries or making sure his person is really there. Maybe both. “I can't believe they ever let you out of your tower. You're a danger to yourself and others. Mostly yourself. How utterly pitiable. Sincerely, I pity your mother for her fool of a son.”

Next to her, Rolan is jittering up and down.

“That,” he breathes, his voice high with giddiness, “is Gale of Waterdeep, I can't believe it! The archmage! Right here!”

“That,” Karlach says quietly, because if she doesn't say it she'll just start crying, “is Astarion's wizard.”

Right here.

Isn't that the damnedest thing.

“Is that-?” Wyll asks.

“Yeah,” Karlach says.

“Wait,” Shadowheart says. “He found him? Really?”

“Yeah,” Karlach says.

“Astonishing,” Lae’zel says.

“Yeah,” Karlach says again, feeling like she might burst from the joy of it.

She's grinning so hard her cheeks hurt. And yeah, all right, she is crying, tears sizzling down her cheeks.

Fuck it. They've earned this moment. She's allowed.

“I'm sorry,” Astarion's wizard says when Astarion finally lets him get a word in.

They're both still kneeling on the ground. Astarion hasn't let go of him.

“You better be,” Astarion tells him, all pout and wounded dignity. “Leaving me behind like that! What were you thinking?”

“No, not for that,” Astarion's wizard says, unwisely in Karlach's opinion, but who is she to judge.

“What do you mean, not for that?” Astarion asks, voice dangerously low. “What else could you possibly have to be sorry for?”

“I didn't ask permission,” his wizard says quietly.

Astarion studies him for a long moment. Then he leans forward, slowly, and his wizard’s eyes flutter shut as Astarion places the sweetest, gentlest kiss on his lips.

Astarion pulls back, just a little.

“Permission granted,” and gods, his voice is so soft, he sounds like a different person.

Shadowheart makes a protesting noise as Karlach drags her and the others out of the room. No matter.

They've all earned a bit of a break. Just a few minutes.

Just to breathe.

They leave them at the water's edge, pale and exhausted and with the city in shambles around them. The moon is high in the sky, casting the world in shadow.

It will probably be a long time before Karlach sees that moon again.

“Have you got everything?” is the second to last thing they say to her, because Gale will forever be a mother-dragon who will make sure that Karlach and Wyll are prepared for their trip to Avernus, or so help them.

“Safe travels,” is the last thing they say, only offered after she dutifully replies ‘yes.’

The tadpoles are gone, their little group dispersed. What great friends they all turned into, at the end. How their lives have changed.

“Gods no,” she tells them, wizard and vampire, and laughs when they frown at her. “Safe is boring.”

Next to her, Wyll sighs.

“We won't make it a day,” he says, but he doesn't mean it. She can tell.

Besides, they might make it.

They might make it all the way back home one day.

Wouldn't that be the damnedest thing.

Notes:

Astarion: How could you?!

Gale: In my defense, I love you.

Astarion: ...

Astarion: Well.

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