#Mystra's Abandoned Chosen {Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep}

[fangsanddaggers]

Wings And Forgotten Memories ||@ruinedbycatastrophe||

Flashes of a dark space, open and seemingly endless, of stairs leading down. Bodies hovering in places, the faceless corpse of agony incarnate. A staff in hand, chest bare to the world, feeling pain, uncertainty. Red swirled around, forming runes on the ground, meeting brown.

He can feel himself smile, fingers skittering over the twisted instrument. He had a choice, one that would change the entire world, lives of thousands.

"Save the world. I'll be cheering you on from beyond."

Those were from his throat, his mind, spoken. The sudden horror in the faces before him, yet he couldn't make out the details, he saw brown. Someone screamed but he brings the staff down upon stone-

Everything hurts, it burns, his skin is tearing apart. He feels like he's about to burst, curling in on himself, agony, lips part around a scream and his back suddenly bursts to life, flaring wide as the world rips past. It's torture, feeling his spine shift and flex, something MORE rippling and catching the winds ripping past--

There's a sharp thud as the being crashes once more into the tower, groaning as his proclaimed fabrics and bedding are strewn unceremoniously under him. Large white wings shimmer with flashes of gold in the dying sun as they drift to splay beside him.

Another episode of that same memory. It'd been two years of him alive since. He remembers a voice whispering that his memories may be frayed, was it really a memory? This time he remembered brown. A colour, not that it was helpful.

The celestial stands, shaking himself off with a sigh, the pigeons that had fled around him from his arrival slowly returning to inspect his new items. He'd flown quite a journey for these, found abandoned in what looked to be some sort of old forgotten camp. They felt as familiar to him as this tower, though he wasn't sure why.

Still, pale fingers began to fuss over the fabrics, wings tucked down, long draping fabrics in reds had been abandoned from his form, used now for the bedding as he'd found something else familiar. Old fancy clothing, off-white dress shirt with a soft frill around the collar that dipped low, tight brown leathers to hug fine legs and simple shoes.

They felt right on his body, like they'd been there before. As if wearing them had him coming home.

He's so lost in his own thoughts he almost doesn't catch the sound of another joining the roof, the flurry of pigeons around him alerting the reborn to the presence. He turns, wings spreading slightly, once red eyes now a vibrant blue speckled with gold, wide with surprise as he hadn't known someone lived here.

Brown.

"Nn, shit." He unknowingly repeated the same inflections of a night hung over this very man, teeth bared, hungry for a bite despite intentionally waking the man just to get the secret out. "Ah... Look, I can explain-" Could Astarion really explain this?

[amandacanwrite]

More Headcanons for the Gale Babes: Pining Edition

Tagging At Their Request: @eclecticqueennerd @jeneralmischief @thewizardhole

Tagging Because I Thought You May Want To Know I posted It: @lewdisescariot @ollypopwrites @rissi-chan @foreskinfinder87

Here are some headcanons about Gale behind the scenes as he pines for you/Tav (Goodnatured, Gender Neutral) Bear with some things that are just regular ole canon for a moment and then I will get into the headcanony stuff near the middle.

Upon Your First Meeting

"I'm Usually better at this." "At Introductions?" "Hah...At magic."

Safe to say that he was well aware of just HOW much trouble he was in very shortly after beginning to travel with you.

The words "Do NOT do this to yourself, you ridiculous, touch-starved man," may or may not have been said to the mirror...or to a mirror double of himself.

But godsdamnit, you just had to continue being...kind and courageous and well spoken and your eyes...and your lips and Focus--FOCUS GALE DEKARIOS

And hells, what a world it would be if he could stop putting his foot so squarely into his mouth.

"Gods, Gale. Really did a number with that thing you said, didn't you? They probably thing you're pompous--which you are--perhaps rightfully so, you are a very gifted wizard..."

He uh...talks to himself a lot. Old habit from the tower, you see. You only catch him doing it a couple of times though, and rarely hear what he said.

"Oh, just thinking out loud, you know!"

Once He's Gotten To Know You A Bit

"Go on, Gale. You're among Friends." "I may just be about to remedy that."

It's hard to pin point the exact moment he fell in love with you. But the realization was nothing short of devastating for him.

As a younger man, he may have been brought to tears reading a tragedy like his. Abandoned by a former lover, forsaken in a plight brought on by wishing to do her a grand gesture, falling for a simpler love...one he may never have because of the orb threatening to level a city in his chest.

Sometimes at night, he watches you asleep in your bedroll, wondering if he had met you as a young man...if he'd perchance seen you on the streets of Waterdeep or sitting at the bar in The Yawning Portal perhaps he'd never wound up in this position in the first place.

Perhaps he would have simply been chosen by Mystra, and not have fallen in love with her.

It feels wrong...even to think it. He wonders if Mystra can sense the betrayal in those thoughts--in the wish that he'd never fallen in love with her.

But it's hard not to feel that way when he has to spend every waking moment next to you.

And when he watches everyone else in camp seemingly falling over themselves to get to you as well.

He makes his peace with the fact that there is simply no way that he can compete with the pale elf who is constantly making eyes at you...calling you darling.

He remembers meeting people like that in school. He remembers burying himself in his studies to distract himself from the fact that he'd never felt particularly charming or even efficacious in matters of the heart.

Of course that all changed when Mystra chose him. Before he'd wooed her, he'd managed to have a few dalliances as a teen, even going into his early adulthood.

But you're the first he's ever wanted to have something with since Mystra had forsaken him.

He still carries the charm he'd cultivated. It's hard not to get at least a little full of yourself when the goddess of magic herself chooses you. Harder still to drop the habit after he'd committed to it, even while sequestered to his tower.

He'd been deep in thought on these matters when you checked in on him one night.

"Nothing to worry about. Just a wizard stewing on matters of the arcane and curious, I assure you."

When he finally has to reveal the truth of his affliction to you and the others in the party, he's devastated all over again. He's ready to once again be banished for his crimes, to be newly punished for his folly, however well intentioned he was in acquiring it.

But...you simply don't... It seems you never do what he expects because you hardly bat an eye. Even when Astarion tells you to kick him to the proverbial curb, you let him stay.

It's that night he conjures the image of Mystra in his hand, turning it this way and that to see if it still hurts to look upon her as it used to.

When you wander over to inquire about her visage, he is relieved to find it doesn't bother him to speak of her, and daunted by the ache in his chest that you seem to inspire in him.

He keeps trying to find a way to tell you how he feels, but he simply can't form the words without choking on them.

Until that night with the teiflings...and well...let's just be honest, the generously flowing alcohol.

He just wants to share a moment with you--a foolish idea to help you experience the weave using him as a conduit. A bit cheeky he realizes--knowing perhaps better than you might the sort of sensual, intimate nature that being connected through the weave can be. But he can't help it, it is the only relief he can find for this torturous pining. To be allowed to be of one mind with you for just a fleeting second is too tempting to refuse.

When You Imagine Sharing A Kiss With Him

"I'm sorry...I wasn't expecting...but it is a pleasant image to be sure. Most pleasant, in fact. Most welcome."

How can he convince himself that he won't immediately ruin this? Does he even remember how to kiss? God's it's been so long.

He lies in his tent, banging the heel of his hand against his forehead.

"You should have just kissed them, you damned fool. How long have you wanted this? And apparently they want it, too. And you were linked with the weave! What could have been more perfect? Why didn't you just kiss them, you blithering idiot."

When he doesn't kiss you for a while, you worry you may have made him uncomfortable with the thought. Really, he simply can't find the perfect time between all of the bloodshed and bandages.

He gets sloppy in battle, too worried that someone will take you way before he has a chance to make good on that dream you shared with him. Not the best course of action for a man who can literally implode in the event that he dies.

And then he had to go and say that stupid thing about danger and...other forms of stimulation.

"Perhaps," he tells himself one night. "Perhaps, Gale of Waterdeep, you will actually make a gesture more than a silly joke and a stammering admission of liking to kiss. Your actions so far have not hinted that you will, but perhaps there is hope for you yet."

In the end it's a night where you're near out of provisions that gives him the opportunity to close this blasted distance betwixt you.

He's having a melt down of sorts. About the lack of decent food in camp. How is he to feed all of you with nothing but a few half-eaten apples and a fish head?

You suggest a walk, not far from camp. You're sure you can scrounge up some berries, or some tubers--maybe even a squirrel or a rabbit. In truth, you're not sure you'll find anything, but you can sense that Gale needs time away. Needs privacy. Needs space to simply feel things without an audience.

After walking in silence for a while you ask him if he's alright.

"No. No I am categorically not alright. Not at all. I am filthy. I am covered in goblin blood. The orb refuses to be sated. I cannot find a way to properly feed you so that you'll have the strength to fight another day. And on top of it all--rounding out the depths of my misery--you so bravely showed me the intimacy you wanted to share, yet I cannot for the life of me figure out how to adequately stage that moment so that it is worthy of the splendor that you are."

It's hard not to be touched by his admission, but you don't want him to be miserable. So you make it easy for him. You simply stride up to him and plant a kiss on his lips.

"Is that better?" you ask him. "Now you needn't fret about the last thing."

His simply...gawks at you. Stares in utter befuddlement, his mouth slightly agape. For a moment, you're certain you've broken the poor wizard. You almost have the urge to wave your hand in front of his face to see if his soul has left his body. Then he smears his hand down his face and groans

"NO," he says. "No it is not better. That is not a proper first kiss worthy of how I feel about you. I can do much better than a first kiss like that."

You remind him that that was technically your first kiss with him. He is welcome to show you how it is properly done.

You expect the slow burn with him--expect him to have to ponder that for a few days, perhaps even a few weeks, before he makes good on it.

But he has had enough of waiting. He drops his bag off to the side and unstraps his bow from his back in a quick flurry of movement. He reaches for you, gently grasping the soft curves of your face and pulling you toward him, claiming your mouth with his own.

It is a frantic, desperate thing, this kiss. Simultaneously overwhelming and buoyant. You find yourself lifting up onto your toes and leaning against him as he tilts his head, seeking some opening to taste you, to feel you on his lips.

Your knees buckle, and his hands move from your face to catch you, crushing you against him as if he wishes to match every curve of you to every corresponding curve of his own body.

His lips are soft, though they are posessive. When you finally allow him across the threshold of your lips, he tastes like that fragment of weave you shared with him. He tastes of pure connection.

And then, just like that moment, it is over. You're left panting and weak as he holds you against his chest, his face flush, his brow gently curved with worry.

You blink dreamily up at him. "Oh." you say.

"'Oh?'" he asks incredulously. "Please tell me you have more to say than 'Oh.' Or at least specify the quality of that 'Oh.' Hells, if I'm to get any sleep at all--"

You simply lift your fingers to his lips, pressing the tips to quiet him. "Consider me properly schooled in how it's meant to be done," you say. "You're an excellent teacher."

He heaves a sigh. "Oh," he says. "I know."

I hope you enjoyed this! I'm sorry if it's not as satisfying since it's a lot of like...subtext for canon things. I have more Ideas but this is already quite long. Do let me know if you would still like to see more or if you have anything you'd like to see or expand on with an actual small fic. I have been having so much fun with these.

[kirain]

I love this kiss, because it shows how far Gale has come. Before, I think he would've been afraid to tease Tav like this, but now he knows he doesn't have to worry. His insecurities are gone. He can tease her without worrying he might mess up, causing her to abandon him. He's not just a trophy or an object anymore. Tav sees him and accepts him for who he is—not Gale of Waterdeep, Mystra's Chosen, wizarding prodigy, genius of the arcane—just Gale Dekarios. The man. He's finally treated like an equal, which is all he ever wanted. You can also tell he loves her more than life itself, and this time his love will be returned.

[alpydk]

Devotion

Just a mini idea that'd been in my head a few days now - The poll last night was related.

Word Count - 1096 CW - Dub/con, angst, Mystra - No point for the comfort because we all know what happens in the game. This is set pre-game events.

“I’ll give you everything, Gale Dekarios.” Her voice was soft, her palm upon his cheek like that of silk.

He knew she would give him power, love. He’d become her chosen, the whispering in his mind surely just cold feet as he stood under the gaze of the goddess Mystra. To be accepted as he was, after all the years of being the outsider, was a miracle, and he would do anything for her. He already loved her, after all.

“You are worthy enough,” her words, a blessing.

---

Gale wasn’t sure at what point he began to question his reality. The doubt crept up insidiously, a tendril into his mind, an utterance he wasn’t sure he’d even heard at first. Was it as Mystra spoke of a previous chosen so casually and apathetically, or was it the night he felt exhausted but still wove himself through stardust to satisfy her needs? Gale pushed past the worries, their relationship perfect, his love accepted without question.

Over time, he lost himself to her, her requests becoming something he could predict and carry out, eager to please, keen to make her happy. Her smile was that of sunrises, her voice that of the symphony of the waves washing upon the docks of Waterdeep. To be the cause of such beauty was all he strived for, his life now holding no greater meaning. Poetry, dancing, the depths of a full-bodied red upon his lips, no longer the priorities of his life. Now there was nothing but to be with her, and worship her as she deserved.

“My love, I’m not particularly inclined at the moment for such…activities.”

Turning down her requests would be accepted, she cared for him in like, and yet the rejection seemed to ebb from her as clearly as the weave curled from her fingertips. A goddess would never sulk, far too removed from her humanity for such childish behaviours and yet the silence she met him with would make his heart ache, his will faltering and his wants sacrificed again and again. It was his obligation as chosen to serve, his duty as her partner to satisfy her as she wished. And she would return it in kind, with power, acceptance, love.

His boundaries slowly fell, communication pointless as his servitude merged with guilt, a fear that if he revealed his true emotions, he would lose her. The darkness that had buried itself deep within his heart was something he would never let her see, convinced that he deserved each unwanted touch, each kiss laid by astral lips, and that the pain she caused him was of his own grand design. He smiled, so she smiled; he gave, so she gave; he loved, so she loved. There was no malice behind her actions; Mystra, after all, was all magic, chaos and order, good and evil, and so all fears he was held could not have been real.

At one weaker moment, he had asked Tara for advice; a friend of a friend of a friend has a partner. She had been quick to jump on the path of abuse, that the goddess was a jealous type, quick to use those she saw a profit in, and would dispose of him just as quickly should she grow bored. Other confidants reacted in different ways: that Mystra was not to blame, her actions that of a goddess that could not be understood, that the complete story was not being told, that it was not abuse, but toxic behaviour and poor communication. He felt his mind whirl in confusion, afraid of throwing away the relationship based on the inconsistencies of his emotions, of staying and continuing the lie, of telling the truth and being abandoned.

Days in Waterdeep were years on the planes of the goddess, longer to embrace and think of all that was happening. Mystra continued as before, her neutrality now an obvious feature to the young wizard. He saw how she reacted almost as the flames of a fire would; with fuel she would burn brighter, if ignored, she would dwindle and go out. Were her reactions truly based on the things he did for her, or could he have been anyone else? Had he been good enough to be her chosen, worthy enough, or had he simply had the fortune of being in the right place at the right time?

Stray thoughts led to vague questions to his goddess, ways to prove himself. Not to her, but to himself. He needed to know if he was strong enough, because if he was, then maybe a choice could finally be made. The limbo of the infatuation could be overcome, and he could be free. His questions were met with silence or the unhelpful answers that he had all he needed to be and each grain of sand that passed through the hourglass was another reminder of his life passing before his eyes; all the time being lost to the devotion of the goddess. But he wanted this, though, didn’t he?

It was as questions were met with silence, as pleading hit loving smiles, that Gale found himself drawn to one option, a strand of the weave lost during Karsus’ folly. If he could return that to her, then maybe he could make her whole again; her story completed, revealing the person she truly was, the flames of her heart burning brighter than they ever could, all because of him. And if she didn’t love him? Well, at least he would have proven to himself that he was strong enough to stand alone and find his own way.

---

“Pretty.”

Gale shook his head at the distant memory, one that had distracted him all too easily. He thought that being away from Waterdeep would have made his situation easier, that the orb, and Mystra would have been flickering stars when compared to the sun that was the tadpole, something that in a short time would tear him apart, body and mind. It had only taken a few moments of absent-mindedness to find himself summoning her visage upon his fingertips, a longing to go back to how things were when his possible hurt was all that was buried in his chest.

The image was dismissed as quickly as it had been created, a memento for another lonely night when wine was not enough. For now, he would entertain, spill the details of the goddess he had conjured so freely before, wear the mask that bore no cracks, embrace in the weave to feel her touch once again.

[galderthefuzzy]

The Tale of Myrkalfa Earthshaker

(BG3 Major Spoilers Ahead)

The Tale of Myrkalfa Earthshaker (BG3 Major Spoilers Ahead) begins in a way unlike most any other drow; in the light of the sun. Having abandoned the Underdark before even learning to speak, this child was shielded from Lolth's cruel embrace by her war-dancer parents for most of her younger years. At a tender age no older than twelve, she and her childhood friends were caught unawares by a drider in the forest, whose vile poison cost her nearly all those she held dear. Seeing the danger posed by her under-dwelling kin and their dark spider-goddess, the young drow made a vow to herself, to help nature reclaim balance in the world, and expunge all those who would seek to harm rather than help. Upon coming of age, Myrkalfa would grow into the Circle of the Moon, mastering the art of shapeshifting in accordance with the teachings of Elistraee as she spoke to the drow people: “A rightful place awaits you in the Realms Above, in the Land of the Great Light. Come in peace, and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow.”After escaping the crashed nautiloid, Myrkalfa would join forces with the charming evoker Gale Dekarios, as well as the fierce gith'yanki fighter Lae'zel and mercurial Sharran cleric Shadowheart.

By fighting shoulder to shoulder, and recruiting a host of allies with their valiance, they would travel from the hilt of the sword cost to famed city Baldur's Gate, slaying every evil in their path without heeding the call of the foul Emperor. With blade and sorcery, not a single epic opponent was spared their onslaught, from the immortal Ketheric Thorm to the undying Heart of the Gate. The Master of the House, the Murderer of Mothers, the Black Hand of Bane and his foul Titan Creation. In a single swoop of their combined might, four heroes did free this age of so many evils that they are honored still among the likes of High Harper Jaheira, Nerys Kathon of Kelemvor, and Minsc of Rashemen. And in so doing, found also the light within themselves, whether it be from the Prince of the Comet, Our Lady of Silver, the Mistress of Magic, or the bright wilds of the Dark Dancer.

Not a single tiefling life was lost for the actions of these heroes, and but an ally did fall in their fight against the Absolute. Friend Yurgir, in his zeal for battle, found himself poorly placed among the party's plans for Raphael. In so doing, he gave his life, the single friend lost to none other than fate itself. At their sides in the final fight though were Zevlor and his hellriders, Dammon and the owlbear cub, Rolan and the Arcane Tower, Dame Aylin and the cleric Isobel, Jaheira and her Harpers, Nine-Fingers and the Guild, Valeria and the City Watch, Duke Ravengard's personal guard, Florrick and the Flaming Fist, Halsin and Thaniel, the free Gondians, Arabella, Mol, the Gur monster hunters, Kith'rak Voss and his red dragon, Orpheus the Prince of the Comet, and Volo the Chronicler.In the end, Shadowheart freed her parents from the shadowy grip of Shar, instead embracing the Life Domain and the teachings of the goddess Selûne. Lae'zel saw the flawed ways of the lich-queen, choosing rather to follow the teachings of the fallen Prince Orpheus, and in their name, journeying to the lands of the gith'zerai.

Gale Dekarios, formerly Gale of Waterdeep, the Chosen of Mystra, became a professor of magic at Blackstaff Academy. Archdruid of the Moon Myrkalfa Earthshaker lived up to her namesake despite adopting a new surname, cleansing the shadowlands of Ketheric's taint and Shar's corruption and allowing nature's peace to flourish once more in Baldur's Gate. The parties were chosen to safeguard a Netherstone each. One with Shadowheart, always on the move. One with Lae'zel, beyond the cusp of the stars. And one with the Dekarios household. Those locations would seem obvious to some, but in truth, it is a dare. An invitation for the Dead Three, or any other force of evil to rear its foul maw again.

I had the pleasure to work on this piece for jæja. The project was quite exciting and very complex, but I have enjoyed every step and really like how it shaped up. As a fan of Bg3, it was quite a treat to be able to combine my stained glass style with some of our beloved companions. I hope you like how it turned out!

Thank you for commissioning me!

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

Deep like water: Chapter 4 – Punished by Mystra

(Trigger warnings: angst, depression, life crisis, graphic description of evil magic that tries to consume the human body, masturbation)

When Gale awoke in his living room, he felt like shit. His head was spinning, his body felt heavy, and there was a painful pressure squeezing in his chest. Groaning, the wizard struggled to sit up, only to collapse again. He tried again, and before he could do anything about it, he vomited all over the carpet.

Am I dying? Gale asked himself as he rolled into a ball. The pressure in his chest was almost unbearable and he absentmindedly clawed at his left pectoral until he drew blood. The pain forced tears into his eyes and down his cheeks.

"Oh, my! Mister Dekarios!"

Gale sobbed in relief when he felt warm, soft fur brush against the back of his neck.

"Tara... Tara, help me, I'm dying."

"What happened? It was that godsforsaken tome, wasn't it?"

Gale whimpered and his friend started to lick the tears off his cheek.

"I feel vile, corrupted magic flowing through your body, pulsing vulgarly like a black hole or a pus-oozing wound."

The wizard swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut in shame and humiliation.

"I lost control," he croaked. "I failed, and now, Mystra abandoned me. I'm no longer her Chosen."

Tara pushed her fluffy head under his chin and started purring.

They stayed like this for hours, letting the day pass.

Gale could feel the Netherese Destruction Orb beat in his chest, hungry for magic. When he'd finally been able to get up from the floor, he searched his belongings for a magical item to be absorbed by it. It eased the pain in his chest, like a cold glass of water quenched one's thirst on a hot summer day, but the Orb's hunger was insatiably, demanding more energy.

Thanks to his extensive research, Gale knew enough auf the menacing magic trapped in his chest. The Orb could only be stabilised by allowing it to break down parts of the Weave around it, and if it wasn't fed regularly from the outside, it would begin to feed on Gale's own life source from the inside. If the Orb's balance was disrupted, by lack of magic or Gale's emotional turmoil, it would simply combust, killing the wizard and anything within its radius the size of Waterdeep.

To make matters worse, Gale realised Mystra had abandoned him completely and he was cut off from the Weave, stripped off all his powers, with a ticking time bomb in his chest. The once greatest wizard prodigy of his time and the Goddess of Magic's Chosen, had become a mere human. Gale had never felt so utterly alone and hopeless before.

"Quit wallowing in self-pity and eat something!" Tara said sternly. "You haven't left your bed in days, haven't eaten anything, and reek worse than a wet dog!"

Gale didn't move. His body felt heavy, his mind was darkened and joyless. But the Orb that was balled up inside his aching chest needed to be fed. Gale stretched out his hand.

"I'm not hungry. Just bring me one of the artefacts."

Tara tsked, stomping around louder than necessary, but she still fetched a pair of magic gauntlets for him. Unenthusiastically, Gale pressed them against his chest, closed his eyes, and let the never-sated Orb absorb the energy. The painful pressure in his chest lessened slightly, but he knew that the relief would only be temporary. Still, no matter how depressed he was, he didn't intend to kill himself and all of Waterdeep. The residents of his birthplace didn't deserve such a death because he'd overestimated his powers and had failed to control the Netherese Weave.

It took another four days of constant, persisting scolding from Tara until Gale finally left the bedroom.

"Eat, wash, and for the love of all that's dear, shave, Mister Dekarios. I'd cut it down myself if I could hold a razor," she told him motherly and sternly.

Gale complied reluctantly, sinking into the hot, lavender-scented bath. He closed his eyes and wished that the water could wash away all woes. An external manifestation of the Orb had made itself known on his chest as a tattoo-like imprint in the shape of an aflame circle with swirling lines that went up the side of his neck. Gale hated this permanently-visible reminder of his greatest mistake.

After freshening up, he apathetically stirred in his bowl of soup. He hadn't gone outside to buy anything fresh and he couldn't conjure up anything, but thankfully, his pantry was stocked with pre-canned meals he'd made before his life had gone down the drain.

"You must keep your strength," Tara drummed into him while feasting on some fish. "It's time, my brilliant friend solves his terrible problem."

"I can't, Tara," Gale replied, frustrated. "Magic's like water; it slips through your fingers and can't be caught without a vessel. Usually, I can effortlessly be that vessel, but now, it feels like I'm littered with holes, like a colander, and the magic slips from me, no matter how hard I try to catch it. Without it, I can't do anything other than being useless."

At that, the tressym bristled.

"You're not useless. How dare you even let this atrocious thought cross your pained mind!"

Furiously, Gale jumped off the chair, stretching out his arms, while yelling: "Look at me, Tara! I'm merely a shadow of what I once was! I was a prodigy, Mystra's Chosen, a promising wizard who could have made the world a better place. Now, I'm nothing! I'm nothing without my magic!"

His last sentence hung in the air like the lash of a whip in the sudden silence. Gale, trembling, looked at Tara, and his anger turned into despair and fear. His face's twisted as the first tears started to fall. It had been a long time ago since Gale had cried last, but now, it seemed like he couldn't stop. He stumbled into his bedroom and curled into a ball under the blanket. Tara hopped onto the bed, slinking closer.

"Who am I without my magic?" Gale sobbed. "A nobody. A nothing."

"That's not true, Mister Dekarios. Gale, you're so much more," spoke the tressym and rubbed her face against his cheek. "You're kind, polite, a talented cook, and a wonderful friend. And I love you so."

The wizard squeezed his eyes shut and kept weeping. Tara pressed her head under his chin and started to purr. Gale cried and cried until there were no tears left in him, and then, he fell asleep, exhausted.

Gale was ashamed and heartbroken. He locked himself into his tower and refused to leave the bedroom for months. Tara tried to force food into him and hunted for magical items to be consumed by the Orb to keep Gale from combusting and destroying all of Waterdeep and its residents with him.

Even though Gale ignored his mother's attempts to see him, Morena didn't give up on him. She learnt about his dire state thanks to Tara, and together, the sorceress and the tressym travelled near and far to buy magical artefacts to keep the Netherese Orb at bay and Gale alive.

When Morena, once again, knocked at her son's door furiously, Tara remarked: "You should let Miss Dekarios in. It does you no good to hide away in your home."

"I don't want to see my mum yet. I'm ashamed," Gale mumbled into his knees. "She'll say 'I told you so', and I can't deal with that right now."

Tara tsked.

"Give your mother more credit, Mister Dekarios. Even though that might be her reaction, she does it out of concern, not glee. Your mother loves you unconditionally."

"I know," he muttered, "but she shouldn't. I failed miserably, I brought shame over our family. I screwed it up because I wanted to impress the Goddess of Magic so badly. I'm such an idiot."

They fell silent again and Gale kept sitting there, with his legs drawn up and hiding his face in his crossed arms that rested on his knees.

"At least, drink your lavender tea," Tara told him.

He obeyed.

Gale locked himself into his home for an entire year, refusing to let anyone see him other than his dear friend Tara.

In spring, the tressym betrayed him and opened the door for his mother.

"You!" Morena yelled, storming into Gale's tower house like a fury. "You!"

The wizard prepared himself mentally for a good scolding, thus, he was taken aback when his mother hugged him tightly instead.

"Don't ever shut me out again, I was worried sick. Don't ever do that to me again!"

"Mum," was all Gale could croak out before he burst into tears.

Morena shushed him and rubbed his back soothingly.

"You've gotten skinny. Aren't you eating?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Oh, please! I'll cook something nice for you," his mother told him and walked into his kitchen.

Gale followed her with a sigh and cowered on a chair with his legs drawn up. They stayed silent. Morena put away the groceries she'd bought for him and set to work. Tara hopped onto the free chair next to Gale's, observing the scene. Morena got the noodles ready, put pine nuts, garlic cloves, basil, lamb's lettuce, and oil in the mortar and began pounding it all into a fine-grained sauce. Meanwhile, Gale mulled over what he could say to her. He was still ashamed and didn't know how to voice his regret.

"Mum, I'm sorry – about everything."

Morena pressed her lips together and hit the bottom of the mortar even harder. Gale sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead.

"Just say it, mum."

"I told you! I told you to be careful and now, look at you! Look what SHE has done to you!"

The words burst out of the sorceress like water from a reservoir dam.

"I'm not mad at you, honey. I'm not even disappointed because I know it's not your fault."

"Of course it is!" Gale shouted in a sudden upsurge of anger. "Mystra didn't tell me to fetch that book, she even advised against it! It was my own stupidity that got me into this godsforsaken situation. I brought this onto myself!"

Morena glared at him.

"Don't you dare to even think that. You wouldn't have done this if it wouldn't have been for Mystra. You were trying to impress her yet again, tailing after her to receive mere breadcrumbs instead of the acknowledgement you crave and deserve. She may have fooled you, but not me. I know what the Goddess of Magic really is: a monster."

Gale opened his mouth to object, but his mother cut him off with a brisk flick of the wrist.

"We're not discussing this topic any longer. It doesn't matter who's to blame for your situation and how it came to be, instead, we must think about possible solutions. I'll contact Elminster, Alistair, and my good friend Alea – no, don't make that face, honey – They might be able to help with your... 'inconvenience'."

With a groan, Gale leant his forehead against the table. It was impossible to argue his mother out of her rescue plan.

Morena and her friends fussed about and probed him as if he was some kind of rare magical creature. Gale hated it – and wanted to die of embarrassment.

"I'll ask my scholars for help," Elminster had proclaimed.

"Must you? I'd prefer if this unfortunate situation of mine could stay solely between us," Gale had muttered.

"Sorry, my boy, but this isn't a common affliction," the addressed had retorted. "If you want answers, you need to search far and wide. Usually, you'll find the solution to a problem in the most unexpected places."

Gale had sighed, defeated.

"Fine. I don't have another choice, do I?"

"No," Elminster had answered dryly.

"Splendid," Gale had grumbled.

Unfortunately, all the inspections and discussions led to nothing.

Gale had three options to stay alive: to continue appeasing the swirling mass in his chest by letting it absorb the Weave inside powerful artefacts, to somehow manage expelling it while in the Astral Plane, or to learn how to control said primal fragment of blackest Weave.

At the moment, the first option was the only possible one to achieve.

When Gale woke up, he felt a different kind of malaise than the one the Orb caused him. He fidgeted around and groaned when he pressed his hand against his erection.

It had been a while since the last time he'd had sex. Usually, Mystra favoured astral intimacy over the real deal, and usually, Gale didn't mind. It felt good either way.

But now, Gale craved physical touch. He bit his lip and shook off his underpants. He sighed when he wrapped his hand around his member and started stroking. Gale turned his face into the pillow to muffle his moans of pleasure. He was so desperate for release, he wasn't even able to come up with a fantasy in his head. It was a raw, animalistic chase for climax. Gale's breath hitched and he let out a guttural moan when he spilled his seeds over his hand and onto the bedsheets.

"Gods," he panted, still dizzy from the intensity of his orgasm.

"Don't mind my humble self, Mister Dekarios."

"Tara?!" the addressed squeaked, turning crimson.

The tressym tsked, perched high on the dresser next to the bed. She looked at him amused.

"A lover might help with your pent-up energy, but you just won't go out with any of the suggested individuals your mother and I so graciously pick out for you."

Gale groaned and tried to hide under his blanket.

"I don't need a lover," he muttered. "I'm perfectly fine by myself, and until recently, I could call Mystra herself my lover."

Tara sighed sufferingly.

"Company would do you good. It's not healthy to waste away in this tower."

"I have you."

"Naturally, but I can't be your lover."

Gale made a face at the thought. Bestiality? No thank you, he wasn't that desperate and sick in the head.

"I also have my books," he added.

"Ah, yes. Your 'interesting' collection on the top shelf, far away from prying eyes," Tara teased.

Gale hid deeper under his blanket and felt his cheeks burn.

Erotic novels were a guilty pleasure of his. He liked to indulge in them when feeling especially horny.

"At least, leave the house once in a while. I miss our daily walks," the tressym spoke now softly.

"I can't, I'm ashamed," Gale mumbled. "What will people think of me when they realise I can't perform the simplest spells anymore? It's like I'm... impotent."

He grimaced at his poor choice of words.

"The situation won't get any better if you keep hiding away. Please, Mister Dekarios, Gale, we'll find a solution for your terrible problem, but until then, you must rebound and master your days with your head carried high."

Gale hummed and tried to find the motivation and strength to do so.

For Tara, he told himself. For my dearest friend I can endure the shame and disgrace. And for mum. I've given them little to be proud of recently.

Tara was overjoyed when Gale told her that he'd join her search for rare magical items to feed the Orb.

"How wonderful! It'll almost be like the good old days. Although... You're quickly becoming the most expensive pet in Waterdeep."

Gale laughed, the first time in months, and scratched the tressym's chin. He dressed in his favourite blue-purple robe and the fancy boots he'd gotten hold of on his trip to Mirabar. Comfortable footwear was a must and he indulged in collecting nice boots from all over Faerûn while travelling. Tara hopped onto his shoulder, purring: "Let's go then. I'm looking forward to the sumptuous home-cooked meal you'll make for us when we return."

Smiling, Gale turned his face into her fluffy flank.

Tara had seen it all, his greatest triumphs and greatest failures, but she'd never left his side or doubted him. She was a true friend.

"You look older."

"It's the beard," Gale muttered.

"That's not what I'm talking about," sighed his mother. She stroke his cheek, frowning. "It's your eyes, your skin, your hair..."

"What about my hair?" Gale asked, slightly worried.

"I can see the first streaks of grey."

"No... Tell me you're joking."

"I'm not, but don't worry, it suits you, honey."

"But I'm only twenty-five years old!"

"Better turning grey than bald, don't you think? The Netherese Orb that beats in your chest is taking its toll on you. It doesn't merely feed on the Weave and the magical items, but on you too. If you're not careful, it will absorb all of your life force and you'll die of old age in a few years."

Gale closed his eyes and turned his face away in shame.

"I'm so sorry, mum. I made an ass out of myself."

"You did, but we'll fix it." Morena sighed tiredly, running her fingers through her son's hair. "We'll find a solution for your problem. I won't let you die. You're my everything."

"Am I still?" Gale whispered. "After everything I've done, you still deem me worthy of your love? I can't even cast a simple first-grade spell anymore."

"Oh, honey... I love you for who you are, not what you are," Morena replied. "With or without magic, you'll always be my precious son. I don't need you to be a grand wizard, a prodigy, or Mystra's Chosen. I just want you."

Gale couldn't keep his tears at bay when he fell into his mother's loving arms. So, they stood there, in Gale's living room, surrounded by books, art, and sculptures, the sound of the soughing sea, the screeching seagulls, and the harbour's bell in the background.

"I miss the Weave," he mumbled. "Not because of its powers, but because it feels like I'm missing a part of myself."

Morena stayed quiet for a moment, frowning slightly, then she told him: "Hold out your hands, honey."

Gale did as he was told, stretching his hands out with the palms facing down. His mother placed her hands on top of his.

"Close your eyes and open yourself for the energy around us," Morena instructed him.

"Mum, I'm not an amateur. I know how to conjure the Weave," Gale huffed.

"Will you shut up for once?" his mother scolded him, half-heartedly and he chuckled.

"Apologies."

Morena snorted and lightly smacked his hand before staying still again. Gale closed his eyes, breathed and tried to relax. First, nothing happened, but then, he felt a prickling sensation in his palms. Its intensity got more extreme until the familiar feeling of humming magic was wrapped around his hands. With a gasp, Gale snapped his eyes opened and stared at the blue mass of energy flowing from Morena's hands through his.

"It feels different, doesn't it?" she murmured. "As I told you many times; you don't need Mystra's help to conjure the Weave. It'll take time to master it again, but it isn't impossible."

Stunned, Gale barked a laugh, and with his mother's help, he cast his first simple spell after one and a half years of magic silence. He couldn't hold back the tears of joy.

Gale finally found the courage to face Monty. His childhood friend was relieved to see him still alive, but he was also angry. Ashamed, Gale confessed his foolish mistake to him.

"You idiot! You utter idiot!" Monty yelled before surging forward and kissing him like a starving man. Gale gasped in surprise.

"Monty, I can't... I -"

The addressed looked at him sadly.

"Is it because I'm a man or a tiefling?"

"Neither! Oh, Gods, please don't even consider that! It's me. I just - I can't right now. I'm still - I'm still hurt."

Sympathy showed on Monty's face and he stroke Gale's hand gently as he said: "I see, but believe me when I tell you that I love you with and without your magic. It was you I fell for, not your powers. I love Gale, not the wizard prodigy. And it doesn't matter that you don't love me anymore, my feelings towards you haven't changed."

The addressed huffed a laugh, linked his fingers with Monty's, and lifted their hands up to kiss the red skin that was such a stark contrast to his own.

"Thank you. I'll never forget your kind words." After a pause, he added: "Give me some time. Maybe, our story doesn't have to end here."

"You know we can stay friends even if you don't reciprocate my feelings, right?" spoke the tiefling.

A genuine smile appeared on Gale's face.

"Thank you, you're a true friend."

The wizard, aware of the implication of his next move, leaned towards Monty and place a gentle, chaste kiss on his lips. The tiefling sighed happily, but when he opened his eyes, they were clouded by melancholy. With one last squeeze to his hand, Gale said goodbye and travelled back to Waterdeep. Monty kept sitting on the wooden bench behind Elminster's tower, mourning the light-hearted joy and mischief that had disappeared from his friend's eyes.

[abyssalaerlocke]

honestly you're so real for the Halsin/Tara post. I'm too scared to like it and I'm paranoid enough that I turned on my VPN to send this ask bc I live in fear of antis. But Tara passes the Harkness Test: Intelligent, able to communicate, and mature for her species. I'm half tempted to write a short anonymous fic because ugh I'm kind of obsessed. Imagine this:

Tara is in heat and the camp is going insane. She's yowling at all hours, nobody can sleep, and Gale is getting worried about her wandering off and mating with a random stray tomcat (act 3)(i don't know if tressym can have kittens with regular cats but whatever).

Seeing everyone get increasingly grumpy, bickering over nothing, and even performing badly in their battles, Halsin realises he is uniquely equipped to take care of the situation. And he is nothing if not resourceful.

He's not sure of etiquette on this, but he decides it's best to approach Gale for permission, so as not to find himself on the receiving end of a fireball when he finds out.

Gale, in his typical fashion, is incredulous, flustered, and altogether out of his depth. He eventually concedes it's for the best, acknowledging her capacity to consent.

He approaches Tara in his elf form, scritching her while they have a brief chat about it - she accepts his offer without hesitation. He wildshapes into a cat, and... well. The rest is perhaps best saved for...... not here.

Anyway thank you for this delightful little brainworm. my ADHD meds kicked in while I was rotating them in my brain so I had to get some word vomit out there!

Honestly between everyone being on board with bards bangin' dragons (in dragon form), the bear scene, countless fics of werewolves in wolf form and ones with just-dogs, with the feline displacer beast, and catgirl/boy phenomenon — I think the defining issue that separates this from all of that is size. The fact that neither partner can be in humanoid form for it to work, crosses a line for most people.

Same goes for me — not as a squick, just generally disinterest. I'm on board with that being an aspect of their relationship, but personally more interested in thinking about Tara curled up on the back of Halsin's big, fluffy, bear form.

But hey, when the muse hits ya ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ fiction is a good outlet, that like all the violent video games and media, lets us address things in a medium that isn't hurting anyone.

I think the biggest issue for me is consent during heat — it's something that generally turns me away from a lot of omegaverse and sex pollen fics these days. If inclined, you could make tressyms' heat less severe, or Tara's interest in Halsin discussed beforehand. He would have smiled, comfortable with the naturalness of it and flattered, without really considering indulging her at the time.

I know the mentioned WIP was Tara transforming into a human, instead of the other way around, and I'd probably go for Tabaxi or one of the other feline humanoids in DnD.

I have a brainworm of Cazador not doing the black mass, but Gale "prodigy archwizard, chosen of Mystra" Dekarios of Waterdeep is regarded by many as "the man who'll become a god". Cazador hears how Gale talks about his beloved tressym, and to earn his favour and hopefully aid one day, custom breeds some tabaxi/owlin or something — basically humanoid tressyms. And so Astarion and his siblings are basically a litter of these, and Astarion gets gifted to Gale — who was entranced, but mostly just accepted to get him out of Cazador's hands.

They pursue a relationship on their own prerogative, but Tara is very cross Gale abandoned the other poor tressym-adjacent victims of Cazador. So they go on an adventure, tracking down Astarion's siblings, who have been sold off, escaped, rescued... They find them in varying dynamics with other characters from canon. Dalyria helps Halsin as an apprentice healer in the grove, Leon is an employee for Grand Duke Wyll Ravengard, Aurelia's with Karlach, etc.