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riddlerosehearts · 2 days ago

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Held in Orbit (Chapter 1)

Summary: Five times Elenion felt like he had to perform—to shield themself from being seen too closely, to avoid disappointing anyone, or simply because they didn't know how to stop.

Five times Gale, steady as the moon, kept them in orbit when the world spun around them.

And one time when, because of Gale's gentle support and encouragement, Elenion dared to face the audience and let himself shine in his own light.

Word count: 5,441

Notes: Gale x bard tav. Elenion is my half-elf lore bard OC who uses he/they pronouns. This fic is heavily focused on Elenion and his relationship with Gale, and is full of post-canon fluff where they act like they've been married for years even though they just got rid of the tadpole! That, and a healthy dose of hurt/comfort and cheesy celestial symbolism. 💙

As you can probably tell, this is part one of what will be a six-part fic—I actually already have a lot of it done, but I'm still working on later chapters and I really felt like sharing some of what I have. So I'm posting chapter 1 for now, and I might go ahead and just post chapter 2 next week depending on how things go!

(Btw if you know what the song Elenion performs in this chapter is a reference to please tell me hehe)

Also posted on AO3 — If you read this and happen to enjoy it, I really appreciate getting kudos/comments over there!

Credit goes to @/saradika for the dividers I used below the cut.

Taglist for my fics: @nerdalmighty @ranger-jahen @starsthoughtsonthings @window-on-the-west @starlightweave @waterdhaviancheeses

In Waterdeep’s market, you really could find just about anything. Fresh-baked honey cakes. Silk scarves in nearly every color of the rainbow. Handmade spell component pouches, enchanted children’s toys, street food sizzling on hot stones. Wandering musicians playing cheerful tunes, their melodies weaving through the crowd. And, of course, mysterious artifacts of questionable origin that would tempt any curious wizard… and one intelligent and eccentric bard who should absolutely know better.

Elenion bounced on the heels of his boots as he and Gale browsed the displays in a tent labeled “Mysterious Imports: Rarities, Relics, and Curious Curios”.

“Gale, look,” he breathed, fingertips reverently tracing ancient runes carved into a cracked stone plaque. “This is from Amn—the merchant says it was recovered from a sunken temple of Sune, and the markings are supposed to shift at sunrise. I need to see that for myself.”

They shoved the heavy plaque into Gale’s arms mid-sentence. Gale adjusted it with a quiet grunt, but didn’t dare interrupt.

“Oh, and look at this!” Elenion exclaimed, lightly tugging at the corner of a tapestry on the wall. “The border pattern is definitely Amnian, but the scene is from an Aglarondan legend—I actually wrote a song about it once! Well, two, in fact, but that's not important—here—see the star elf? How he's holding white bellflowers instead of a blade? That means it’s depicting a later retelling, inspired by a playwright who rewrote the ending so he actually marries the prince instead of—oh.”

Elenion let the words spill out a little breathlessly, a little too quickly, as if their mouth was moving faster than their brain. A familiar kind of excitement they usually tried to keep under wraps—normally, even their most dramatic, theatrical monologues were a touch more elegant. More composed. But with Gale, they didn’t feel the need to be so careful. Especially since he talked their ear off about magic just as often.

“Sorry,” they said, a bashful smile tugging at their lips, “I should probably start from the beginning, shouldn’t I?”

“Please do,” Gale replied with a fond smile.

“Okay, so…”

Gale nodded along encouragingly as Elenion launched into explaining the legend from the beginning. But about halfway through, he lifted a tiny, dusty music box from a crooked table and asked brightly, “Do you suppose this still works? It’s giving off the most interesting magical aura.”

Elenion stopped mid-sentence, turned, and immediately narrowed their eyes at the sight of a battered music box depicting a pair of porcelain rats dancing. One of the rats was missing an eye, and the other’s head was twisted slightly too far to the left.

“Gale…”

Gale grinned and slowly wound up the music box. It wheezed out a janky, off-key lullaby as one of the rats twitched and fell right out of its partner’s arms.

“Gale. My love. We are not buying something that obviously cursed after we just got mindflayer parasites out of our heads.”

“Cursed?!” Gale scoffed. “How dare you? It is not cursed, it’s hauntingly whimsical!”

“It looks like the kind of thing a possessed child would use to summon a demon in a tragic play,” Elenion deadpanned.

“Well, at least I didn’t try to buy a giant mirror rimmed in gold roses that’s enchanted to sing when its owner looks at it,” Gale replied, putting the music box back on the shelf with a little huff.

“That mirror had flair. It was a wonderful singer, not to mention an antique. I think we should go back and get it.”

“Len, it sang like some sort of operatic ghost. A few of the roses were wilting.”

Elenion waved their hand dismissively. “Merely a bold artistic choice.”

Gale rolled his eyes, but the amused twitch of his mouth gave him away.

Then his gaze drifted to the scroll in Elenion’s hand, and he squinted at the mess of checkmarks, scribbles, and short, scrawled notes that covered every inch.

“I know we agreed to redecorate the tower together, but you’ve been buying things constantly and somehow adding more items to your list at the same time.”

Elenion looked back with an unrepentant grin as he tucked the tapestry from earlier into his bag of holding, along with a snowglobe that had an exceedingly glitter-covered base.

“Hey, don’t forget some of this is for Midwinter too,” he said, briefly picking up a stuffed frog that reminded him just a bit too much of Lae’zel—before putting it back down, already picturing the sharp glare she’d give him for comparing her to such a thing. “And besides, it’s not my fault your tower was practically begging for someone with my sense of style to come brighten it up.”

“Our tower, dearest,” Gale corrected gently, reaching out to brush a speck of glitter off Elenion’s shoulder. “Though I admit that it was in dire need of your radiance.”

Elenion’s expression turned sheepish. He’d only been living with Gale in the tower for a little more than a tenday, and he was still trying to wrap his head around the idea that he could call it his home now. He had lived in Waterdeep for many years already—moved there to attend the bardic college of New Olamn when he was still a teenager—but since he constantly toured the Sword Coast and beyond, the city never really felt like home. Nowhere ever had after his father died, and not too long ago he’d believed that nowhere ever would again.

He used to believe a lot of things Gale had proven him wrong about in recent months. But he still thought he was right about that singing mirror.

“Oh,” he murmured, glancing down for a beat. “Right. It is our tower now, isn’t it?”

And that was the point, wasn’t it? They weren’t just shopping for the fun of it, or for Midwinter. But because Gale thought maybe if Elenion filled the tower with enough of his own touch—not just the instruments, artifacts, and odd knickknacks he’d brought over from his old house, but things the two of them chose together—then it would finally sink in that he did have a home after all.

Elenion caught Gale’s eye and the two of them smiled at each other softly. For a moment, the bustle of the market faded into quiet, as if Elenion’s world had narrowed to just the warmth of Gale’s gaze.

After a brief pause, the sounds of the market returned around them—the gentle murmur of voices, the clatter of footsteps on cobblestone, and the faint rustle of fabric in the breeze. Elenion glanced around for a moment before he and Gale moved onward.

Soft chimes tinkled from a nearby tent, simply labeled “Moonlit Trinkets”. They stepped inside to the sight of lanterns strung between wooden beams, casting soft pools of light over shelves crowded with delicate glass ornaments, enchanted gemstones, and all sorts of tiny mechanical objects.

Elenion drifted toward a jewelry stand, their fingers grazing a bat-shaped brooch with ruby-encrusted wings. They almost picked it up to buy it, before remembering that the person they were thinking of giving it to—who would probably sneer and pretend to hate it, simply to mess with Elenion, before it mysteriously ended up pinned to his lapel the next day—wouldn’t be around this Midwinter. Astarion had offered to go with Karlach to Avernus, to keep her engine from burning her alive.

Elenion’s hand dropped from the jewelry stand.

Luckily, they were pulled out of their thoughts before they could throw themself into a pointless spiral.

“Hey, look at this,” Gale murmured, holding up a miniature terrarium filled with glowing moss and enchanted butterflies… and little night orchids, made to look like they were blowing in the breeze.

Elenion smiled as they watched the butterflies dance around the glass. “Shadowheart’s going to love that,” they said, their heart feeling lighter now.

Out of the corner of their eye, they saw Gale brush his fingertip against his ear, instinctively reaching for Mystra’s symbol—only to find nothing there, having left the earring on the altar at Stormshore Tabernacle.

He's doing it again, Elenion thought to himself. Trying to dangle his earring…

Elenion turned back to the jewelry stand. Should he try to find something for Gale…?

No, now’s not the time. When he's ready to talk about that, I'm sure he'll let me know.

Instead, he plucked the brooch for Astarion from the stand—along with a delicate pendant shaped like a snowflake, just for himself.

Then, Elenion turned back to Gale and brushed a lock of hair behind his ear, their fingers lightly grazing his earlobe. “Find anything you like yet, love? Things that aren’t cursed or… what was it you said earlier? ‘Hauntingly whimsical’?” they teased.

Gale, who had been browsing a shelf full of porcelain tableware, gave him a look full of mock offense. “I’ll have you know these plates are utterly un-haunted,” he said, gesturing toward a set of blue floral-patterned dishes. “Not to mention, they would go beautifully with the embroidered tablecloth you bought this morning.”

Elenion laughed under his breath, shaking his head. He still couldn't believe he was having these kinds of arguments. Him, moving in with someone he loved? Who loved him? Buying tablecloths and plates together? It almost felt like he was in a play about someone else's life.

Suddenly, a cart rattled over cobblestones nearby, the sharp clatter cutting through the cheerful hum of the market. Elenion stilled for a moment, freezing on the edge of a plate. They shook it off with a slow exhale, then turned their attention back to the wares.

Their fingers trailed along the edge of the shelf, idly skimming past various trinkets and delicate dishes, until he saw something different: A small, ornate music box glinting in the light, painted in shades of deep blue and bronze. They picked it up, turned it over in their hands, and wound it up to listen to the melody—light and lilting, almost like a lullaby, but just loud enough to almost drown out the market noise still buzzing around them.

“Gale,” they grinned as he held the music box up, “Isn’t this just the most ridiculously romantic thing you’ve ever seen?”

Gale took the music box and studied it with care. It was old and worn, with a small crack at the base, but still beautifully carved—it showed two lovers dancing beneath a starry sky.

“This is lovely. And I suppose I was in the market for a music box.”

Elenion tapped the tiny inscription on the tag. “It’s enchanted. Plays different songs depending on the moon phase.”

Gale smiled knowingly. “You’re going to put it in the bedroom window, aren’t you? Wind it every night like a ritual.”

“Maybe.”

“I knew it,” Gale murmured, but his fingers lingered on the music box, tracing the tiny carved dancers beneath the stars. “You know… it kind of reminds me of us.”

Elenion’s breath caught. They’d thought the same thing when they picked it up, but hadn’t dared say it out loud.

They looked up at Gale, eyes wide and their heart thrumming in their chest. “...Yeah. I can see that.”

Gale leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Elenion's cheek. “I love you so much. Don’t ever forget that.”

Elenion felt the tips of his ears flush with warmth.

“I love you too.”

As if on cue, the noisy, chaotic sounds of the market pressed back in around them. Elenion blinked, the softness of Gale’s kiss fading into the background thrum of voices and cart wheels.

The pair wandered through a few more stalls, and by the time they were done they’d both picked up a few more throw pillows than they probably needed. Elenion couldn't resist grabbing an iridescent stained glass suncatcher, while Gale treated himself to some small finds of his own. Elenion chose an herbal tea blend to give to Halsin, and at the same stall there were hooded animal blankets that reminded Gale of Karlach. He bought one, just like Elenion had grabbed that brooch for Astarion—each of them holding onto the gifts just in case.

It would be Midwinter—or Deadwinter Day, as it was also called, for the bleak stretches of cold that still clung to the world before spring—in about a month, and they didn't even know whether they'd get to see their friends or not with everyone's wildly busy schedules. But Elenion still wanted to give them gifts for the holiday, whether he got the chance to do it in person or not.

He just hoped the gifts for Karlach and Astarion wouldn’t become the kind you keep because you never got the chance to give them.

His eyes flicked across the square, taking in the casual chatter of passersby, the way a few had paused to glance at the stalls. He realized more people were lingering nearby than he'd noticed, and a few curious eyes seemed to be turning toward him.

He adjusted the strap of his lute across his shoulder, suddenly wondering if he should’ve brought it at all—he’d done so mostly on instinct, always used to having it by his side, but now it just felt like a spotlight following him wherever he went.

Even as the day stretched on, the marketplace remained awash with color and clamor. The winter air was crisp and chill as snowflakes spiraled and twirled down, melting against the cobblestones. Gale and Elenion strolled through the marketplace side by side, sharing stories and seeking comfort in each other’s warmth.

It should’ve been lovely. The kind of day that practically begged for a bard of Elenion’s caliber to write a song about it. And, objectively, it was… but it was also too much for them all of a sudden. The street food smelled just a little too strong, the children giggled a bit too loudly, and the festive tunes of the street musicians all seemed to combine into a chaotic, unruly symphony that frayed the edges of their nerves more and more with every step.

Not to mention the sun felt blindingly bright in spite of the season. The cold made the burn scar on their shoulder dry and tight beneath their winter cloak, as if to remind them they couldn’t ever be fully comfortable. And normally they enjoyed the sound of their boots clicking against stone as they walked through the market—it was a not insignificant part of why they always wore high heels, in fact—but today even that was starting to grate on them.

And yes, he was Elenion Silverdew, a bard renowned across the Sword Coast. He’d played more taverns and theaters than he could count—obviously he was used to crowds and noise and the chaos of performance. But that didn’t mean he’d ever really liked it.

I wish I could just cast a silence spell right this second, he thought, fingers curling tightly around the strap of his lute.

Out of the corner of his eye, Elenion saw a pair of teenagers—a blue-skinned tiefling girl and an elf with dark hair—pointing at him and Gale, whispering.

So he straightened his shoulders, tilted his chin a little higher. Fiddled with the rings on his fingers, trying to make it look more like an idle habit than a lifeline.

And he smiled—bright, dazzling, perfect. Because he had to, of course. That was what people expected. But also because he had Gale by his side, and that made it all a little easier.

He’d already adjusted his cloak twice, and was just about to do so a third time when Gale glanced over at Elenion and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“You and your cloak already look as lovely as ever,” he murmured. “Just breathe.”

Elenion exhaled. His grip on Gale’s hand loosened, and the moment stretched—but if nothing else, at least he didn’t have to take on the world alone. Not anymore.

“Hey!” the tiefling girl finally called out. “You’re Elenion Silverdew, aren’t you?”

Showtime, he told himself.

He turned toward them in a graceful half-spin, grinning as he theatrically pressed a hand to his chest.

“The one and only,” he declared, voice smooth as silk. “I take it you’re a fan?”

(He had used that move far more times than he could count. It still worked like a charm. And he hated how easily it came to him, how natural it still felt.)

“My friend and I live in Baldur’s Gate,” the elf girl said, “and we used to watch you play every chance we got! I can’t believe you quit just like that!”

“Yes, well, I do miss it. But between the whole 'hero of Baldur’s Gate’ thing and getting engaged I’ve had my hands a bit full.”

“Will you play a song?” the tiefling girl asked, her eyes sparkling. “Please?”

Elenion groaned internally.

Really? Now? they thought. Gods, I’m so stupid, why didn’t I leave my lute at the tower? Or at least think about putting it in my bag of holding? Why did I put it on display like I was hoping this would happen?

Their thoughts almost started to spiral, but the way the girls’ faces lit up—hopeful, trusting, expectant—made them pause. Elenion needed to find a way to say no without breaking their hearts… a way to still give them a fun little story to brag about to their friends.

Taking a brief moment to study their surroundings, they realized they’d been stopped in the middle of a fresh produce market.

They let out a radiant, theatrical laugh.

“Oh, but you must understand, if I play right here and now the tomatoes might begin to weep!” they said with a dramatic tilt of their head, “And I just can’t be held responsible for produce with opinions!”

"...And more importantly,” they added with a wink, “I have to keep an eye on my fiancé, or he'll buy five spellbooks he doesn't need and forget to eat. And trust me, a hungry wizard is a dangerous wizard."

“Excuse you,” Gale said with mock offense. “I only bought four spellbooks today, I’ll have you know! And as for the dangerous part… well, I suppose you do have a point.”

Please just take the hint and let us be, Elenion prayed silently.

The girls both burst out into laughter, with one of them asking him to pretty please just play one song and saying maybe they should move somewhere the tomatoes couldn’t hear.

Elenion chuckled softly, but for a moment he found himself getting lost in thought again. It wasn’t like he said yes to every stranger who asked for a street performance—and people from Waterdeep didn’t really do that to him anymore, since he’d told the press he preferred to be admired from a distance now—but for some reason he felt like he couldn’t let these girls down.

Maybe it was because part of him did feel guilty for abruptly announcing, just after getting abducted by mindflayers mid-tour and causing a panic across the Sword Coast, that he was quitting. Or maybe it was because he felt bad for using the abduction—and the whirlwind romance that followed it—as an excuse, when the truth was, he’d spent the majority of his career secretly wishing the universe would hand him an excuse to step off the stage.

Either way, he still didn't really want to start playing in the middle of the market where a larger audience was sure to form, but…

He let his gaze drift to the side for a moment, and the smile returned.

“Oh, I'm just messing around. One song won’t hurt, I guess.”

“But just the one. If I’m being honest,” he said, the lie sliding off his tongue so easily it made him wince inside, “I wish I had time to play a whole set. Music is my life, after all."

The girls both clapped in delight as one of them said, “Really? Thank you so much!”

Somehow, the way she looked so genuinely grateful—even when nearly everything he’d said and done had been an act—only made Elenion feel worse.

It was an act he’d even fooled himself into believing. Back when he still thought that repeating the lines, the smiles, the theatrical flourishes enough times might make it real. But it never did.

That was fine, though. It would only be a small crowd, and he’d always been more comfortable in small crowds. So he could do this. It was just one song. Just one performance.

The girls scurried off to find a place to sit down, tugging a few curious bystanders along with them. Stall vendors perked up and started calling out to each other, and before long, Elenion found himself standing in the middle of the square with a half-circle of strangers forming around him. Just enough to feel noticed—but small enough not to feel overwhelming, at least in theory. It most likely wouldn’t have been if his heart wasn’t already drumming in his chest.

He caught himself imagining the cobblestones as polished stage boards, the passersby as a festival audience, already spellbound and waiting for him... and sighed, hearing faint, imagined applause in his ears.

He pulled his lute out in front of him with a flourish. He plucked a few notes and sent a swirl of golden sparks trailing from the strings, striking a dramatic pose that made a child giggle.

It's just one song, he reminded himself.

The mask slipped on like a second skin.

“Good folk of Waterdeep,” he called, voice smooth as silk and carrying just enough to command attention without shouting. “You honor me with your presence on this fine afternoon.”

His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but the crowd didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe they just didn’t care.

“You may not have expected a performance when you rose this morning—but fate,” he said with a wink, “is rarely so polite as to ask first.”

“I can only linger for a single song today, I’m afraid. But don’t worry, I’ll make it count.”

With a few quick, precise strums of his lute, four small orbs of golden-white light—Dancing Lights, warm and flickering like lanterns—lifted gracefully into the air, settling around him at staggered heights. One hovered just above the lute’s strings, casting a soft glow on his hands. The orbs then revolved around him like tiny planets.

Elenion took a deep breath and reached for an old favorite—not one of their own songs, but something traditional. Comforting. Safe.

“This piece,” they announced, fingers moving with the ease of muscle memory, “is a very old ballad, called “Sails of Silver Light”. I imagine some of you might already know it.”

They plucked a few soft notes, letting them shimmer in the air.

“It tells the tale of a half-elven mariner who was said to have sailed not only the seas, but the heavens themselves, carrying a star across the sky.”

They paused, giving the crowd a gentle smile.

“And some say he still lives on in those same stars, shining on even the darkest of nights. A beacon of hope for those below.”

The lights around him flared a touch brighter at the word hope, and he let them hover there. He sang the first verse with a smile that felt almost natural, letting the melody rise and fall like the waves in the story. His voice carried over the market square, clear and bright, and the little crowd that had gathered leaned in closer. In the front row, one of the girls who’d asked for the song clutched her friend’s arm and whispered along with the lyrics, just slightly off-key.

Elenion knew this kind of performance by heart—the kind that always earned cheers, applause, adoration. Perfectly measured phrasing, a wistful smile just like the lyrics called for, voice full of soft longing.

He let the lyrics, full of hope that even in the darkness, something beautiful and bright could endure, fill him with hope that the audience wouldn’t look closely enough to see how tired he truly was.

As his fingers danced across the strings, he couldn’t help thinking about how people who didn’t even know him always looked at him like he was the mariner who’d been turned into a star. Something luminous they could pin all their hopes on, that wouldn't dim, that wouldn't falter.

That wouldn’t get overwhelmed in the middle of a market square just because a couple of teenagers asked for a song and everything was still too bright and too loud and he couldn't seem to tune it out as well as he had only a few months ago, and he just wanted to spend time with Gale today but he was too cowardly to say it, still too afraid of letting everyone down, and he had an ache in his shoulder that he couldn’t dare let people know about, and he just had to ignore it and push through and—

His breath caught as he reached the chorus. The lights around him shimmered gently, but their glow warbled just a touch—like they were responding to the uneven beat of his heart echoing in his ears.

With any luck, the crowd would think he was overcome by his passion for the music.

Elenion blinked, forced his shoulders back into their perfect posture, and turned a graceful spin. The orbs of light whirled along with him. A few people clapped in rhythm. He smiled. He always smiled.

During an instrumental break, they winked and blew a kiss toward Gale's side of the square, hoping Gale would know it was for him—and very deliberately avoiding looking at him.

Elenion knew Gale had seen them perform for crowds plenty of times before. They both lived in Waterdeep, after all. But that was before they’d actually known each other, before Gale had any way of knowing that the illustrious bard who shone before him onstage was secretly always afraid of burning out.

So if they looked at Gale now—if they saw pride, or concern, or gods forbid, pity on his face—they weren't sure they'd be able to keep it together.

The final note rang out into the winter air, and the crowd erupted into applause. Elenion dispelled the lights around them, letting them fade softly.

And they finally looked out at the audience. They told themself they weren’t searching, just… looking. But they still found Gale immediately, just as easily as one might find the moon in a familiar sky.

Gale wasn't clapping. Just standing there, hands still, gazing at Elenion with the softest eyes imaginable. Watching them like they were something beautiful, fragile, and real.

Elenion blinked and gave a dramatic bow, more reflex than anything. Then they wordlessly slung their lute back over their shoulder with a flourish and stepped away from the makeshift “stage”—really just a cleared out patch of cobblestone between fruit stalls.

Immediately, half a dozen people surged forward, shouting different things over each other.

“That was incredible—”

“Please do an encore!”

“You should come play at my brother's tavern—”

“Is it true you used Otto’s Irresistible Dance to fight a devil ?!”

He knew they meant well, and he didn't want to be rude. So he smiled, nodded, laughed at all the right places, and chose his words carefully, speaking as little as he could—something the press often noted as lending him an air of mystery, though he was really just trying to avoid saying the wrong thing when his heart was racing.

Honestly, though, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of pride at that last question. Because not only was it true, but he would gladly do it again.

Still, their chest felt too tight for them to stop and chat about it today. Their hands trembled slightly as they adjusted their cloak again, and their eyes kept flicking toward the edges of the crowd, searching for a way out.

“Oh dear,” Gale said suddenly, appearing at Elenion’s elbow with all the subtlety of a stage curtain drop. “Terribly sorry, but I’m afraid I’ll have to steal my partner away now. He’s got a... an urgent appointment. With a harengon baker who only comes into town once a month. Makes the most delightful chocolate croissants.”

He turned to Elenion and added, more gently, “And you do love chocolate croissants, don’t you, dear?”

Elenion let out a quiet gasp. It was a ridiculous excuse, obviously made up on the spot—but Gale had chosen something he genuinely adored, and now he was going to be craving warm chocolate pastries all night.

“Ah, that’s right, I’d nearly forgotten!” he said, a genuine grin spreading across his face. “It’s a hop-up food stall, isn’t it? I’d never forgive myself if I missed it.”

He slipped his arm through Gale’s with a flourish, giving a playful little twirl as they linked together. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Then, he faced the crowd again and gave a dramatic, cheeky wave.

“You’ve all been lovely,” he called out, “but alas—destiny calls! Or at least, dessert.”

The pair slipped away from the lingering chatter and chaos of the market, Gale leading Elenion gently by the hand toward a quiet park. The sun had started to set, painting the sky in hues of blue and orange, with the crescent moon peeking out in the midst of it.

Gale sat down on a wooden bench and Elenion joined him, still clutching his hand and leaning into him. There was a half-frozen pond in front of them, the edges dusted with snow, and for a moment they just sat and watched the water in comfortable silence.

Elenion shifted to sit up a little straighter and cleared their throat.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to turn our shopping trip into a one-man show. Or to make you have to rescue me like that. I just…”

I just can’t stop performing, they thought. Even after everything. It’s all I know how to do.

The words caught in their throat, and they let out a shallow breath.

Gale tilted his head, his smile as calm as moonlight.

“There’s no need to apologize, love. If you want to talk, I’m here to listen. Or we can go home, if you’d prefer.”

“No, it’s too lovely of a night to go home. Let’s just sit here a little longer.”

Gale gave Elenion’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Alright. Will you at least tell me how you’re feeling?”

“…I don’t know. Overwhelmed, annoyed at myself. Confused. I was having a great time just being with you… and then those girls asked for a song. I should've just said no.”

Their voice broke mid-sentence. “I should’ve been fine with that little street performance—I mean, it wasn’t even a proper show, hardly anyone was there, but… gods, I don’t know—”

Gale reached over and gently wiped a tear from Elenion’s cheek, his touch steady despite the tremble in Elenion’s breath.

Elenion spun one of his rings, feeling the cool metal between his fingers and letting his breath even out.

It’s alright. Gale is here. I won’t let this gloom stick around. Time to give him a bit of charm.

“You know, thanks to you, I’m craving chocolate.”

Gale chucked softly. “Well, unfortunately I may have made up that harengon baker—”

“Oh, did you?” Elenion said with a smirk. “What a tragedy. I was so looking forward to hopping on over to his stall.”

Gale raised a brow in mock consideration. “Would you have gone in ears first?”

“Naturally.”

“In that case, there’s a quiet café not too far from here. No croissants on the menu, sadly, but their chocolate chip cookies are nothing short of exquisite.”

Elenion’s smirk melted into something softer. “Oh,” he breathed. “That actually sounds… perfect.”

“Good,” Gale said, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “I much prefer having your undivided attention to competing with an entire market square.”

A surprised laugh escaped Elenion. “Jealous of the crowd, are we?”

“Only a little,” Gale said, tilting his head. “They don’t appreciate you properly.”

Warmth stirred in Elenion’s chest at the words. He leaned into Gale’s shoulder a little more, finally letting himself relax. For now at least, there was no audience, no spotlight—just the two of them watching the crescent moon hover low above the pond, the night’s first stars beginning to wink awake in the sky, and the promise of warm, delicious cookies waiting to be savored.

#boosts this again hehe #i still have a lot left to write for this because i'm SO slow augh #i take 200 years to write a draft and then i spend 200 more years changing my mind and nitpicking it #but maybe i'll go ahead and post chapter 2 over the weekend

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