#THis is...SO LONG. This is just describing Gale's 'tower'.

[recitedemise]

𝗚𝗮𝗹𝗲'𝘀 𝘁𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗰𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗹𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘄𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀. Nestled along the coast of Waterdeep, it is both sunlight and the insistent cling of salt that Gale's grown to find exceedingly soothing. It is the bastion of his comforts, outfitted with a grand assortment of a thousand enchantments. Charmed, it is far larger on the inside than it appears on the outside, and nestled in its rooms wade about a million secrets. A wizard's tower, after all, should be as much an enigma as the mage themselves.

Entryway.

Upon entering Gale's home, one would be welcomed by a sectioned off room, the house separating its guests from the rest beyond this point. It is nondescript, all deep woods with the warmth of a far away fire, sure, but plainly put, is not what one expects from a wizard's home. There is a mirror by the door, and before it, a little end table with an aging candelabra. There is a thick, fine drape that rests snug at the arch walling off the tower's entryway, and there is a plush, old rug sat in front of the door. Framed, there hangs a painting of a garden by the right-most wall. The decor is dated, speaking of an aesthetic veering on 'dark academia' and here, there is an enhancement Gale placed to thwart those not explicitly welcomed--hold person, in the rug, can hold you still.

But at least the shy smattering of hanging plants can keep you company.

The first floor: Entry way, living room, kitchen, and washroom.

After exiting the entryway, one would at last enter a hall, short, that leads to a cozy and admittedly half-cluttered room. Here, there is a coffee table, some leather seats in a shade of hemlock-green, and a winding staircase--fit with a red stair runner-- that goes, up, up, up (again, enchanted, some time manipulation steeped in the runner to shorten walk-time). In fact, should one look up, one would think Gale has furnished twelve floors at least, the ceiling like a pinprick with rich deep-gold tiles. It's evident this floor's hardly used, however, beyond the kitchen that is sat snug and half-walled off from the adjoining living room. The seats seem seldom used, not a crack or wrinkle in their delicate upholstery, and the cups lines in Gale's kitchen never used beyond the one. There's several books splayed about, a knitted blanket Morena had made him some decades ago--purple, his favorite, shade, of course--thrown about the sofa, and a myriad of paintings lined on the walls. There's a hanging light in the fashion of some brassy armillary. In the built-in shelves in the paneled walls, there rests even more books with some decanters of whiskey. There rests a wide circular window fit with an alcove right at the center wall, too, with a darling view of the waters with some hanging candles.

Beside the living room, the kitchen--again, very frequently used--waits, charmed with a fire that seems always to burn (safely, of course). At all times, something fragrant lingers within it, be it darling, spice-fruit tartlet or a succulent rack of ribs or lamb. Here, the fashion is a touch more rustic in nature, more dark-red bricks and taupe woods. Over his oven--black iron, a simple cast wood stove--rests an overhang of herbs, dried and half-self grown with the pots by his open windowsill, and the other half purchased from the ladies at the markets. He's a sizable coldbox charmed with a suspended chromatic orb of frost (it pulses, giving perpetual cool to the contents inside), beside countertops filled with all manner of jars. Gale makes his own jams, his favorite being a delightful, tart raspberry, and it with its fruity sisters and brothers rests bottled up with delightful cloths. Gale spends much time in here, and it's plain to see he lavishes it with love. Always, there is something delightful set up by the island counter that looks off into the rest of the living room--like a cake stand piled generously with something exquisitely vanilla. With a door nearby, Gale would explain it leads to his little pantry of hundur sauce. There, one will find, too, his notable collection of both red and white wines. An evening with Gale Dekarios is an evening with a five course meal.

The washroom set off by the staircase is humble, a tap of flowing water charmed to flow and stop when you so wish it. There is an ornate mirror, some suspended flowers there for a spot of freshness, and lit candles for ambiance. The small of something earthy and not too overbearing hangs everywhere, steeped in the towels and the wood of the little medicine cabinet.

The second floor: Two bedrooms, with their own personal bathrooms.

Here, you will find Gale's bedroom, and beside it, a spare. To note, no one ever uses that guest room considering, well, one would need guests to start off with. All the same, no would-be over-night stay would find themselves wanting. The guest room, adequately sized, opens up to face a wide, stained glass window-modestly so, just to allow some shades of gold to lick along the floors. A thick curtain dresses it up, its color a burgundy wine that pairs well with the dark woods and surge of white in the bedding. The best itself is a four post one, no veils yet to hang off of them. The large dresser is empty save for some spare things Gale has put in for Tara (spare collars, for example) and a couple of blankets he's never once used. It has its own bathroom as well, its tub charmed to, again, spill water and stopper it whenever you so wish. It's everything you need should you ever stay here, but admittedly, stripped just a bit of any personality.

Gale's room, however, is ride with personality. Here, you will find all manner of trinkets and wide-eyed wonders. It's dark wood again, and lived in, is effectively cluttered. There are books strewn everywhere, laid out on the floors despite two of four whole walls filled completely with tomes. He's a window at the one wall, opening to the scene of the city clamoring just beyond, its windowsill decorated with cups of wine, tea tins, and some pots of terracotta for when he deigns to play gardener. He's a large armillary in a state of perpetual spin, aligned with the real-time turning of the stars. His bed is large, a bed tray usually atop of it with smattering of peeled fruit and his read for the morning, sheets a dark, rich brown with the bedposts taken in dark-green curtains. There's a bed for Tara, too, laid there by one of his growing stacks of ancient reads. His carpet is patterned, a sliver of white to help brighten the space, with some cat toys strewn here and there and an armoire that's charmed much larger on the inside. Beside his bed, there rests Gale's private bathroom. It's impressive, tiled beige with dark woods that border on chestnut black. He's a whole array of bath salts, lotions and creams and shampoos and conditioners, everything combining to capture ascent of sage and jasmine sweetened just a sliver with a persimmon hue. His tub is actually dipped into the floors, a standing shower merely an overhang spout in the space beside the tub. There is incense here, too, that wafts at times with the hot steam of his usual luxurious baths--Gale, let it be known, a sucker for a spot of finery.

The third floor: Dedicated solely to Gale's office and study--dressed up with a terrace. Inside the study, Gale keeps his inheritance and riches.

Going up the stairs this floor has no landing. In fact, it's only a passing door before one continues traveling up towards the rooftops. The door is unassuming, something old and ancient with brass knockers as handles. However, belying its normalcy is the swell of magic and light that glows from crystals within.

This room is what we are most familiar with: it is, as we have seen in game, Gale's study. And yes, it is by and large, Gale's most favored room--kitchen notwithstanding. Here, Gale's study is less a study and more a keep of ancient texts. His walls are littered with them, the copious amount of shelves not enough to cradle their wealth. Stacks of loose tomes can be found crawling up, up, up for the ceiling everywhere, and each one, he'll tell you, is one he's read once before--evidently not faking it like every other bookworm. He knows where each one seems to lay by heart, even the four hundredth manual in an uninspiring shade of brown. He's a crackling hearth, one he's charmed to run forever on and on, with a single chair and a sofa-too-many. He's a statue in a wait-high sizes dedicated to Mystra. He's spent more hours than he'd confess to kneeling before them, a memory he's no rush to indulge in again with any delight, both scrolls and flowers wreathing it like humble offerings. He's a piano he's manipulated to play when he desires, something of a tune that runs very soft and relaxed. At times, Gale himself will even pluck away the keys, the piano chair before it housing some rough compositions.

In this study, one will find a door, locked, to what houses whatever is of Gale's inheritance. Beside that door, one will also find the double doors to his brilliant terrace, outfitted with plants, a rug, and sun-warm sofa. Here, Gale likes to idle away his time, Tara in his lap and some wine on his tongue. In his year in solitude, he would rest here often, looking over the lullabied waters and its quiet ripples... Half mad, half yearning, and entirely wistful.

One can find some empty bottles of wine here with a heavy heart.

The fourth floor: A smaller room, something like an observatory.

Humble but absolutely dazzling, the top floor opens up to a darling observatory of sorts--not a proper room, no, but a mere floor with a railing that looks down to the lower, three-most levels. Here, the ceiling--again, those rich tiles of brown and gold--rest above your head, wide and unobscured of even a hanging light. Instead, there are candelabras set up about this book-littered room (with pillows, too, and a nice rug set up for casually laying) that flicker and whisper with its crackling song. Laid down on this floor, one would look up to that so-bare ceiling...and when Gale so whispers it, says those magical words, the ceiling seems to suddenly disappear, replaced with a ripple of the view of the stars. Here, Gale can trace the course of the twinkling cosmos. Immediately, the shine of the stars come to pale the combined wash of the candles, the atmosphere impossibly drusy and gauzy like silk. Gale likes it up here, relaxing in the majesty of the moon. Sometimes, he will find Tara flapping her wings here, a little trapdoor to the rightmost wall for her to come and go from when she desires. They will cuddle up together as she speaks about her nightly escapades of feline devilry. Gale, in a nest of pillows, will patiently listen.

[celestialowlbear]

✨♡ Gale NSFW Drabble ♡✨

Pairing: Gale x Fem!Reader (Tav)

Summary: Gale indulges in you. Hehe.

WC: 1200

Warnings: 18+, NSFW. No plot. Just smut. Face riding. Female receiving oral. Mention of PiV sex. Established relationship. Reader/Tav not described. Bulleted list.

A/N: Now it’s Gale’s turn for thots I just needed to get on a page. It became longer than I expected, haha. He’s an oral king. I don’t make the rules. Enjoy!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚

You lifted your gaze from your book, sneaking a glance at Gale who sat on a comfortable loveseat across from you.

You weren’t surprised to catch Gale staring right back at you with a peculiar twinkle in his eye.

You knew the look, his brown eyes drinking in your form from where he sat.

He quietly shut his book, placing it to the side.

Gale stood up and settled by you on the plush couch you were lounging on.

He kissed your shoulder as you tried to pay attention to your literature.

You already knew what he wanted, but you loved making him work for it.

“Don’t mind me, my love,” Gale whispered, his voice already husky with desire. “You know I can’t stay away from you for long.”

Gale’s skilled hands wandered as his lips did the same, kissing up your neck and letting his fingers dance under the hem of your top

You smirk, no longer paying attention to the words on the page, your body immediately pliant under his touch.

“We’ve been in the tower all day…you haven’t been far from me at all.” You teased quietly, tilting your head to give him better access.

Gale hummed against your skin. “Still not close enough, I’m afraid.”

One of Gale’s hands was fully under your top now, caressing and teasing your breast.

“I want to taste you if you’ll allow me the privilege.”

You let out a soft sigh, Gale’s beard tickling you as he kissed your neck, nipping at the points he knew made you melt.

“How can I deny such a request?”

Gale lifted his head from your neck, pressing his lips to yours in a deep kiss, his hand cupping your cheek.

“Let’s get comfortable then, shall we?” Gale pressed his forehead to yours, muttering something under his breath.

In an instant, you were lying on your shared bed with Gale next to you, both of your clothing gone.

The perks of being in a relationship with a wizard.

“Come here, my love. Take a seat on your throne.” Gale smirked as he gestured at his face, lying on his back.

You settle on top of him, your thighs surrounding his head.

Gale squeezes the fat off your thighs, looking up at you with a wild hunger in his eyes.

“You are stunning like this.”

Gale brought his lips to your folds, not giving you a chance to respond.

You gasped his name instead as he slowly kissed your thoroughly wet cunt, probing his tongue at your entrance.

You gripped the bed’s headboard, your thighs already trembling around his head.

You could feel his beard wonderfully scratch against your inner legs, adding more pleasurable sensations to what he was already doing.

Gale was taking his time, still lazily kissing at your folds as he would your mouth.

You wanted to rock down onto him desperately, your clit beginning to throb with need.

Gale was purposefully avoiding that part of you, drawing out your pleasure.

Gale also didn’t want this to end too quickly, thoroughly enjoying servicing you just like this.

“Gale…” you ground out. “More…please…”

Gale hummed in response, tightening his grip on your thighs.

“Patience, my love.” He murmured, grazing his nose against your clit. “Like a good wine, you must be savored. You deserve such treatment.”

You let out an airy laugh at his comparison, feeling him smile against your swollen folds as he picked up the pace, swirling around your clit.

You whined, his tongue providing the relief you were so desperate for.

Gale gently probed at your clit, alternating between your entrance and swollen bud.

“Ah…Gale…!” You cried out as he began massaging your clit with his tongue, his composure quickly crumbling at the sounds leaving your throat.

Your trembling body, his name leaving your lips in broken moans, feeling your clit swell with each pass of his tongue, it was all absolute perfection.

No magic could ever compare to having you like this.

Gale released one of your thighs to cup your ass, giving it a hearty squeeze as he continued his meal, obscene sounds filling the room as you rocked your hips on his face.

Gale was completely lost in you, your scent filling his nostrils, your arousal coating his beard, your soft skin now damp with sweat under his fingertips.

The molten pleasure was building in your spine, Gale finding a rhythm he knew would have you shattering above him before long.

Your fingernails were digging into the fabric of the headboard, bucking your hips against his lips in time with his tongue, which was now fully focusing on your clit.

“Gale…don’t stop…please…I’m…” You were breathless, opening your eyes that had been squeezed shut, looking down between your legs.

Gale was once again already staring at you, his eyes dark and blown with lust. Strands of his hair were stuck to his forehead, looking disheveled.

His eyes weren’t just filled with lust, but pure passion. Love. Unwavering commitment.

You crashed over the edge, locking your eyes with his as your orgasm rocked your body.

Ecstasy blossomed from your core to every nerve, intense and mind-numbing.

You chanted Gale’s name like an incantation, your entire body convulsing and shuddering above him.

Gale moaned loudly into your pussy, keeping up his pace, wanting to taste and feel every bit of your pleasure.

Gale lapped up the gush of your release, your cunt pulsing with your orgasm against his mouth.

Gale could feel his cock aching between his legs, his body ignited with desire, knowing he could make you feel this way with just his mouth. He couldn’t help the bit of pride that swelled in his chest.

You came down from your high, ragged breath and limp body, sliding off his face to lay next to him.

Gale was breathing heavily too, his beard dripping with your release.

He turned on his side to face you, a smile gracing his features.

“Thank you for letting a wizard indulge himself.” He traced his hand over your flushed cheek.

You chuckled, bringing a hand down to his rigid length, caressing it ever so gently.

“I should be the one thanking you, love.”

Gale’s eyes closed as he let out a low moan.

You captured his lips with yours in a fiery kiss.

You could taste your tangy release on your lips, his beard soaking with it. Your tongues danced momentarily, desire burning between your legs once again.

“I don’t think we are done indulging in one another, my dear.” You purred, gently pushing Gale over to be on his back once again.

You climbed on top of him, positioning yourself over his cock.

Fire danced in his eyes as he gripped your hips, lifting his own hips ever so slightly to push his leaking tip into your tight entrance.

Gale entered you with no resistance, both of you groaning in bliss as you took him to the hilt.

You both sat there momentarily, taking one another in. You leaned forward, entwining your fingers with his above his head for leverage.

Gale let out a deep rumble, something between a chuckle and a growl as he felt you clench around him.

“Oh no, my love. We are far from being finished. I’d say we are just getting started.”

-ˏˋ⋆ Thanks for reading, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! ⋆ˊˎ-

Tagging @ladyzirkonia as requested 😘

[galeorderbride]

Seriously, I am blessed <3 this blog was meant to be a tiny little corner that maybe 10 people followed lol. I'm so glad to be wrong because I got to connect with so many wonderful people here :)

I made a poll for a 100 follower milestone oneshot, and the winner was (of course lol) Gale fluff/smut. I've finally finished it, and I seriously hope everyone likes it because I made it for you!

So, can't stress this enough, 18+ MDNI

Oh, and it's not beta read. I will edit later lol if there are any mistakes

Fic (and warnings/description) under the cut and can be viewed on ao3 if you prefer.

Welcome Home

Gale Dekarios x F!Tav 18+ MDNI

Words: 5.2k

Rating: Explicit for graphic smut, piv sex, oral sex (m and f recieving), fingering, creampie, soft!dom Gale, use of pet names (sweet girl, love, etc), light choking with fingers. Fluffy and romantic :)

Summary: Gale and Tav spend their first night in Waterdeep postgame, and he wants to make her feel welcome :)

...

Funny how in the entire, months long adventure against all dangers known to the Sword Coast, the one memory that stuck to Tav the most was meeting Gale. Pulling him out of an unstable portal, the lure of his bright, scholarly voice calling her ‘friend’ in the first fifty words. Little did she know, he spoke to her a prophecy. From that moment on, Tav and Gale spent all their time together, getting lost in his conceptual monologues and trading books as a solace against the ever present violence. 

In between the lines of borrowed books and stolen glances, falling in love was inevitable. From an unexpected kinship, to touching friendship and eventual passionate romance had been the one blessing in such a strenuous journey. Locked in the expectation of each other, eager for the night to fall, for the candlelight to illuminate the azure of Gale’s tent as an open door. A routine after each near death experience, to share two bedrolls squished together and become expert in the ways of making love without bruising their skin on the hard ground below. They were a proper couple by the journey’s conclusion, soaked in love and devotion, ready for the permanency of their relationship to finally bloom with the defeat of the Elder Brain. 

Their affections made clear and official when Gale proposed the evening after the city had been saved. 

One would think with all that familiarity that Tav would have no problem arriving in Waterdeep with her new betrothed. Settling into each other never came easier back in those wretched patches they called camp. Effortless to just exist with confidence. But as soon as Gale and her crossed the threshold into his towers, she felt like a stranger to him. Unsure of what the proper action might be, to the point where she found herself afraid to remove her cloak. 

Everything felt foreign. As if she’d never been anywhere but on the road, either to Moonrise or Baldur’s Gate. The tower was new, of course, but even her clothes felt odd. Clad in a woollen skirt and forest green blouse instead of armour. Hair down and well groomed rather than pulled back for outdoor convenience. Skin clean and devoid of bruises and cuts. As ridiculous as it may sound, she forgot how to be anything else but a scrapping adventurer. And to be in a lavish tower full of every amenity she could dream of, alone in the start of domestic bliss with her beautiful partner. Something so commonplace, yet completely implausible to her. 

“Your palace awaits, dearest,” Gale said, presenting her the main room of the tower with that comical charisma impervious to awkwardness. 

Handsome didn’t begin to describe him. Hair tied back in a half up style and an ivory button down held tight against his body with brand new suspenders. Healthy and happy, soon to be free of the orb and all the consequences along with it. Tav had never seen him so elated. He simply glowed with the promise of their love. The promise of peace. 

Tav smiled, the stretch of her lips failing to reach her eyes as she pondered about the tower. Distracting herself with the warm toned decor of brown leather couches and exposed stone walls. Gale magically lit the fireplace at the centre of it all, warming them against the cooling weather of late Uktar, made colder by the tidal winds of Waterdeep. She wanted to say something charming, but couldn’t find the words. 

“I’m sorry, Gale, I’m—a bit nervous. Not certain why, this should all be so normal but…oh, I don’t know,” she said, scoffing at herself. 

Gale stepped close to her, wearing that affectionate, closed-mouth smile he always did when she needed reassurance. Strong, sculpted hands found their way to her arms, squeezing just hard enough to ensure her eyes stayed on his. Shivers down her spine juxtaposing with the growing warmth of the fire. 

“This isn’t exactly normal for us, hmm? Accustomed to living under the impression that we may die the next morning, worried about whether we’d turn into illithid or get done in by Bhaalists. Not much time for the soothing hum of what we once missed,” he said, caressing the sides of her arms lightly. “Fret not, I’m a little unsure, myself. We’ll adjust. How about a glass of wine?” 

Tav felt eased by his touch, and his offer for something to take the edge off. “You read my mind. Thank you.” 

Placing a small kiss on her forehead, he said, “Have a seat by the fire, my love. I’ll prepare the finest blend in my cellar.” 

Gale bustled about in the concealed kitchen as Tav settled herself on the sofa closest to the windows, enlivening the living room with maroon and yellow stained glass and piles of books on their sills. Everything there was to know about him existed within these walls, the tower containing his very life breath. Excitement beat through her heart as she contemplated all the things he had not thought to tell her, waiting to be found in every corner. Silly things like unfinished poems and a favourite paper weight, if he played different songs on the piano at different times of day. All in between that she was meant to spend her life learning with him. 

“Athkatlan clarry,” Gale said as he walked into the living room with two goblets and an intricate, tall bottle of mulled wine. “I’ve been thinking about this blend since we first cooked together. How you loved those darker spices, cloves and peppercorns, and your admiration for the blackberry sauce I made. How I hoped I’d be able to share this particular bottle with you. I’m glad that dream has come true.” 

Notes of thyme and cherry touched her lips before the wine blanched her tastebuds with the heavenly taste of vanilla. Warm, mirthy flavours that wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. The soft happiness of being thought of enough that he had a wine decision months before they could even pop the cork. That was simply Gale; he had a way of making her feel like the only person in the realms.  

“You had my tastes down so early,” she said. “I can’t possibly compete.” 

“Don’t think of it as a competition. You’ve never been to Waterdeep, have no family or friends here, and yet you still came here with me when I asked you. For that, the least I can do is think of a wine to match your tastes,” he said. 

Tav smiled, confident enough to rest her hand on top of his, “Where you go, I go. That was decided the same day you chose this wine for me.” 

Neither of them noticed how close they’d drawn, each sip of their wine leading them nearer and nearer. The sides of their thighs touching, Gale’s arm lingering behind her back, ready to snake his arm around her waist. Her hand still held his, comfortably resting on his lap. That beckoning look in his eye had Tav spellbound, the seductive leer ending in the corners of his lips, stretched to a subtle, desirous smile. An expression incapable of feigning innocence, pooling with a tender but heated want. 

Gale slowly lifted her hand to his mouth, peppering soft kisses against each knuckle grazing against his beard. Tav’s stomach tightened, tingling with sensations of desire. Heat from the fire sunk into already burning skin and the warm blush of the wine in her blood. She often wondered if he did magic when he touched her like this, rendering her still and speechless. Her pride would never let her ask him, lest she find out the actual answer and prove to the world that she really was just a fool for him. 

“Come here,” he said with his lips grazing her fingers, “Let me kiss you.” 

Soft lips found hers as Gale finally let that hovering arm wrap around her waist. Unburdening her nerves with every caress of his palm against her back, slowly but surely finding its way under her blouse. Fingertips grazed her spine, counting each inch from the base to the top. His other pressed against her cheek, holding her close. Tav melted under his kiss, a light tickle between her legs as he slipped the tip of his tongue inside her mouth. Not too much, just enough to ease them into a gentle make out. Gale never rushed. He enjoyed playing with her, feeling the warm wetness of her lips, the amused yelp when he nipped at the fragile tissue, all the ways to get her body to lean into his. And it always worked, proven by the hook of her leg over his thighs, the silken heat of her core driving him. 

Tav could’ve stayed like that for ages, able to forget the world around her with his passionate kissing. He always said he could do better, develop his technique after being out of practise for so long. But even the first time, tucked away in that starry illusion he conjured, it was the best she ever had. 

“You deserve to be worshipped every single day, my dearest love. But tonight, especially. For the first time, we are home. This is your home, if you’ll have it. I want everything to be perfect,” he said, mouth still hovering over hers. The taste of his breath on her tongue, laced with vanilla wine and spearmint. 

“Oh, Gale, you’ve done so much to make me feel welcome. Things are already perfect,” Tav said. 

“Then let’s make perfect last. Come with me upstairs, there’s more I’d like to show you,” he said. 

Hand-in-hand, they left the living room and walked up the spiralling steps to the second level of his tower. Tapestries of different scenes hanging on the wall, all with accents of florals, latticework and myths of great heroes of history. Candlelit sconces lighting their way up. Nothing short of a fairytale, as if she was wandering the castle of a magical prince. Well, in a way, she was. 

Somehow, she imagined the study he showed her on their first night together. The very centre from which he cultivated his life before meeting her. But he led her through a different door, one leading to a spacious, well kept bedroom. A king-sized four poster bed against the furthest wall, a closed terrace with beautiful double doors. Night projected from the moonlit glass, droplets of rain beginning to patter against the panes. Another fireplace sat adjacent to the bed, lit amongst intricate stone just like the one downstairs. In front, two armchairs and a circular rug, different shades of dark red sewn in an intricate style. 

“Oh my goodness, don’t tell me this is your bedroom? You wizards do like to live lavishly,” Tav said as he led her into the room. She stood in the middle, craning her neck to see every hanged painting and arcane trinket on each surface. Even after looking two or three times, there was something else to see. 

“To tell the truth, the luxury of the room isn’t for me. Not really. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t appreciate fine decor and comfort. But most nights, I just fell asleep in my study. I wanted this to be something to share, to be a shelter of beauty and warmth for the one I love. Now that you’re here, I finally have a reason to close the books at the end of the night,” he explained, joining her where she stood and holding her close. 

Tav smiled, running her hands up his chest and landing at his shoulders. The soft cotton of his button down like a cool breeze against her palms. Both his arms were snug around her waist, swaying her lightly in place. 

“I regret to inform you that neither room will be offering much sleep, Mr. Dekarios,” she said, craning her head up to meet his lips in a soft, chaste kiss. “Not if I’m in here.” 

“Oh, believe me, sleep was never an option,” He said, grinning between kisses that deepened with each smack of their lips together. “Tonight, let me welcome you to your new home. Show you the splendours of this tower and all the magic it can provide—in the mortal way, of course.” 

Teasing him was all she could think to do to temper the giddiness within her. His poetic charm folding her stomach upside down. “Don’t be too fantastic, or I’ll start asking for it every night.” 

“Hmm, a threat or a promise?” He asked, but there was no need for an answer. 

Words were nothing compared to the sultry kiss he gave her, deepened with the slide of his tongue along her bottom lip and a soft moan crackling from Gale’s throat. This was the start of their lives together, away from danger and unpredictability. Beginning with a simple kiss in the middle of the bedroom that would be theirs forever. 

“Now, darling, you have a choice,” he said to her, turning her body so her back pressed against his chest, his hands caressing her arms, shoulders and collarbone, just barely avoiding the peak of her covered breasts. His stubble tickled against her bare cheek, unable to resist planting little kisses along the side of his jaw as he moved her around. 

He continued, “Armchair or bed?” 

Tav’s entire body wanted to erupt in embarrassing giggles, but managed to keep her cool as she took a long, drawn out breath. “What exactly am I choosing these for?” 

“Choose,” he demanded. 

She bit her bottom lip, tempted by the tender warmth of the firelight, “Armchair.” 

He moved her body a couple steps to face the chair, whispering in her ear, “In that case, I’m going to get you naked now. And then, I’m going to make you cum on the armchair. All well and good, sweet girl?” 

Every part of her tingled at the sound of such a pet name. At this point, she’d have let him do just about anything he wanted. Her voice shook with anticipation, “Oh yes, all well and good.” 

Gale began with the small buttons on her blouse, keeping her back to him. As his fingers undid each one, he kissed the side of her neck, the sound of his lips sucking and licking at her skin fluttering in her ears. Tav reveled in the shots of warm air as her shirt opened more and more, all the way until Gale pulled the fabric from her shoulders. A simple, cream coloured bra kept her covered, until he snapped the clasp off with expert precision, freeing her breasts for him to squeeze and knead. Tav sighed deeply, letting her head fall into the crux of his shoulder while his fingertips teased around her hardening nipples. Tracing the little buds and continuing to kiss her neck at the same time, so fervent that a trail of saliva dripped from his mouth down her skin. It was positively debauched, and yet so filled with devotion and love. His hands never allowed a part of her to go untouched, not even trying to seem like he wasn’t falling apart for her in an instant. 

Letting go of her breasts, he let his hands trail to the belt of her wool skirt, chafing against her bare waist. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear now, simple affirmations like ‘beautiful’, ‘magnificent’, ‘my entire universe’. Tav could listen to him all night, just lying in his arms while he shuddered every adjective to describe her humanly possible. But not now, as he tucked his thumbs into the skirt and gently pulled the fabric off her rounded hips. He played with the lace of the matching underwear to her now discarded bra, letting his palms wander from the hem of the panties to her butt, squishing the soft flesh. 

“How can something be so soft? You defy the greatest alchemists with the way you’ve been sculpted,” he said, giving her a playful pinch on her left cheek. Tav couldn’t stop that giggle, jumping forward as she felt the ticklish sting. A little distraction so he could bend down and pull off the last bit of clothing she had, now fully naked in the middle of his bedroom. Their bedroom.  

“Shall I take a seat?” She asked, motioning towards the armchair. 

“Mmm, yes please. So obedient, I don’t even have to tell you where to go. Seems you left your stubbornness in Baldur’s Gate,” he said, watching closely as her hips swayed in her walk to the chair. Each second he was blessed to witness her, she became more beautiful. Magic not even he could conjure. Intertwined so strikingly with the glittering veins of her soul. 

Tav giggled, sitting on the chair with her knees tucked to her chest, as if hiding her body from the man who’d seen it countless times now. “Trust me, when I get more comfortable here, I’ll be back to my normal, argumentative self.” 

Gale smirked, stepping in front of the chair, towering over her sitting form. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, my love. But I’ll not tolerate closed legs in this bedroom, dearest. Open up.” 

With a quick motion of his finger, a magical, invisible force pried her legs open on the chair. Tav gasped as she felt the soles of her feet drag along the velvet fabric. The cool air kissed the surface of her core, already wet with desire before he’d even touched her. How could she not, when exposed to the ethereal beauty of Gale. The absolute picture of perfection to her, with his flowing chestnut hair lined with grey, his toned torso glistening under candlelight as he slipped off his shirt. He was impossible not to look at, as if he walked out of a classical painting. 

Firelight glowed against her skin, her muscles melting into the comfort of the chair as she watched her beloved smirk at her. Eager tingles danced across her palms, yearning to touch his bare torso, feel the prickle of his body hair, kiss the orb tattoo that would soon heal away forever. Addicted to caressing her body against his own, coated with hot sweat as she imagined him everywhere on her, inside her. The craving was too much, Tav bringing one hand to knead her breast and the other down to her clit, gently rubbing the sensitive tip between her index and middle finger.

That is, until Gale lowered to his knees in front of her and moved her hand away. He grasped her wrist, bringing her fingers up to her mouth and shoving them inside for her to eagerly suck. 

“No no, sweet girl,” he said, clicking his tongue, “Keep those fingers in your mouth. Let me make you cum.” 

“Oh, Gale,” she said through her fingers, still prodding at her tongue, “Please…” 

“Aww, please? Please what?” He asked, his voice dark with lust as he inched his face closer between her legs, enough to feel the chill of his breath blowing against her clit. Tav exhaled, craning her head back as she fought the pulsing desire to be filled, licked and sucked until she was ruined. 

“P-please make me cum, Gale,” she said, taking her fingers out of her mouth as she spoke. 

He raised a brow at her, distancing his head back as he said, “Put those fingers back, beautiful. And then I’ll do exactly what you want.” 

They never had much time during their journey to enjoy themselves for a while. To let Gale take his time in pleasing her, demanding things of her. Tav felt even more blessed than she already did to be here with him, where they could spend the night adoring each other, exploring every way to make love. This, though, seeing Gale confident and assertive, would definitely be a favourite. 

Placing her fingers back in her mouth, letting him watch as she poked and prodded at her tongue and throat. A muffled, heart stopping growl emanated from him as he neared her pussy again, letting a trail of saliva fall from his lips, sinking onto her clit. All she could do was whimper, her inner thighs shaking as he finally trailed his tongue all across her slit. Using the tips of his thumbs to spread her open as he gently wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking and kissing at the sensitive bud to keep her irresistible sounds in his ears. Mixing with his own moans, debauched with the slick of her essence drenching his beard. 

Gale loved pressing at the soft flesh of her pussy with his thumbs, giving in to the temptation and pushing one inside of her. Continuing to lap at her clit, feeling it swell against his tongue as she drew closer to climax. He couldn’t help but smile every time she bucked her hips into him, using her free hand to clutch the arm of the chair while she struggled to keep sucking her fingers. Gods, sometimes she’d get carried away, and he’d hear a little gag from her throat, driving him further into her cunt. 

“Gods above, that feels so good! I’m close…so close,” she exclaimed through her filled mouth, concentrating on the intense precipice she balanced on. Her hips grinding against him, nearly screaming at the sensation of his lips slurping at her clit. Only a few more seconds went by before an orgasm snapped through her insides, hooking her legs over his shoulders and crying out his name. “Gale! Gale! Ugh…” 

The paradise of tasting her was unmatched to any other experience. Floral, buttery notes along his tongue as he used the tip to lightly trace across her clit, shaking from overstimulation. Gale replaced her fingers with the thumb that thrusted in her pussy, sharing in the flavour of her orgasm. 

“Good girl,” he said, “You taste amazing, I could survive on your cunt alone. Always doing so well for me, but I need to see it again, alright?” 

Tav’s sigh was breathless, wheezing with pleasure as she came down from the intense climax. She didn’t even have time to answer before he hugged his arms around her hips, scooping her legs around his waist to lift her off the chair. Limp in his arms, she began to kiss across his neck, licking and sucking to the point of marks. More desire between her legs when he’d groan in her ear, or shudder at the sensation of her nails gently scratching down his back. 

Silk sheets met her backside as he lowered her down to the mattress. Plunged into even more comfort, certain she’d never experienced a softer bed. Her arms stretched above her head, letting Gale do whatever he wanted to her. Staring at her, he never allowed his eyes to part as he undid the buckle of his belt, removing his trousers. Tav bit her lip when his cock sprang free, thick and hard with the slick of precum dotting the tip. 

“Let me touch it,” she begged, remembering she’d get what she wanted if she was polite, “Please.” 

Gale laughed, that flirtatious scoff he did when he knew he was a step ahead. Circling her like prey, driven to madness by the beauty of Tav. He couldn’t believe she wanted to be with him, stay with him for the rest of their lives. A silent vow in his head that swore he’d do everything to show how thankful he was. She’d given him the greatest reward a person could ever ask for. 

“So pretty when you’re begging for my cock,” he said, climbing onto the bed behind her. Positioning himself so his waist aligned with her face. Gale shook with arousal when he witnessed her licking her lips, eyes glued to the head. He asked her, “Do you want to taste me, dearest?” 

Tav nodded, moving her neck forward to envelop her mouth along the head of his cock. Gently caressing the tip with her lips, rimming the tip of her tongue along the sensitive ridge. He shuddered, almost cumming down her throat right there, just enough strength to resist. This was her time, and once was never enough for Gale. He traced his fingertips down her body, stopping to pinch her nipples and graze her inner thighs before sliding two into her cunt. She yelped in surprise, lowering her mouth to capture his shaft deeper. 

“Suck me all you want, but focus on finishing for me again, sweet girl. I told you I wanted to see it again. Can you do that for me?” He said, voice sensual and darker than his usual tone. Overtaken by extreme lust and the biting need to fill every part of her with his seed. 

Tav nodded with him still in her mouth, her oral fixation kicking in as she felt herself working towards a second climax just because she felt him gently fucking her throat. Combining with the hot, delicate pleasure of him thrusting his fingers inside of her. Massaging her clit with his thumb in perfect circles, hitting every spot she loved. He used his free hand to hold her head on his lap, playing with her sweat-laden hair. 

“Oh gods above, Tav! You give me more than I could ever imagine,” he said, throwing his head back as he relished in the pleasure of her tongue lolling around his cock. “Come for me, my goddess. So perfect, all for me. All for me.” 

Gale’s cock popped out of her mouth as she gasped in ecstasy, a second orgasm blossoming in her core when his fingers hit just the right spot. Her already soaking cunt dripping onto his hand, body hot with sweat and spasming muscles. During her come down, she flicked her tongue along the tip of his cock, tasting the faint saltiness of his precum. Hooked on the sounds of his shaken breath as he laughed with terrifyingly seductive satisfaction. 

Warmth covered her back, so heated and shaken she created her own heatwave. Between heavy breaths, she said, “Flip me over, please? It’s too hot.” 

“What impeccable timing for you to say that. I’m going to fuck you now, love,” he said, quickly grabbing her waist and flipping her to her stomach in one, effortless swoop. Her head hung slightly off the foot of the bed, smiling to herself as she felt Gale move his body between her legs. His cock grinding against her core from behind. 

Kisses trailed down her spine, a calm moan leaving her lips in enjoyment. Giggling as he nipped at her shoulders and scrunched her hair in his fist, pulling just hard enough for a tickling sting. He used his hold on her hair to turn her head, pressing his lips to hers in a passionate, burning make out. Pushing his tongue against hers with unbridled, sultry moans. Never over the taste of him, the scent of him, the weight of him, everything forever. 

“Gale, please, I can’t take it anymore. More, more,” she begged, happily overwhelmed by the wet kisses he spread all over her face. 

“More what, my dear? Use your words,” he whispered, biting and sucking at her earlobe. Tav’s legs bent in desperation as he pressed his rock solid cock at her entrance, teasing the slit but never penetrating. Just pushing the tip, teasing and teasing until she reached the point of crudeness he wanted her to be. 

“Mmm put your cock in me, Gale. I want to come again, please!” She cried out, voice high and tired. 

Allowing him to take control meant more than simply wanting to be submissive during love making. After months of constant fear of death, violence and all other forms of danger, the two of them could finally be vulnerable. Open themselves to one another in any way they liked, for as long as they wished. The very comfort Gale wanted to give her when they arrived at his tower, a beginning of a thousand nights of passion, tenderness and joy. And a thousand more after that. 

“I love you so much, my heart. My soul. You are just…everything to me,” he said, body melting into hers as he slipped his cock inside. Slow, tight stretching conquering every nerve in her body. Endless pleasure in the feeling of being completely taken over by him, his chest against her back as he began to thrust into her stimulated cunt. His hand clutching her ass feverishly. 

“I love you, Gale, please don’t stop! I’m…gonna…” 

Tav couldn’t finish a sentence, not when the wet stretch of his cock thrusting into her kept going and going. His pace was strong yet loving as he kissed every part of her he could reach. Hands holding her head for support. He wanted badly for her to finish again, one more time before he found his own release. There wasn’t much left of him, his cock twitching between her vibrating walls sucking him deeper and deeper. 

There wasn’t a part of her body that didn’t feel something. Clit rubbing against the soft sheets while he pounded into her, languishing within as she felt his rhythm changing the closer he got. Each time he moved, his moans grew into desperate, pleasured whimpers. A sound like paradise to her ears, bringing her nearer to that final climax. Paralyzed under him as she let herself drown in bliss, going silent as her body quaked in orgasm. Muscles tightening with that weaker but heavenly spasm, her mind couldn’t believe he had driven her to such a high. 

“Ohhh, yes, good girl! Finishing so good for me like that, three times. I’m going to make you mine, my love. Make love to your cunt until I cum deep inside you,” he said, growling in her ear like a feral beast. An irresistible side of him, made even better when knowing she was the only person who’d get to see it. 

Both of them moaned in tandem as Gale spilled inside of her, hanging his head in the crux of her neck and shoulder as he held her tighter than ever. Full body tingles coursed through Tav, drunk on the ecstasy of being the vessel for his pleasure. Feeling him soften inside her while he peppered kisses along her back. 

“Welcome home, my love,” he said, tone gentler as he came down from lust. He turned over, laying beside her as their hair hung off the foot of the mattress. 

“You’re quite the host, Mr. Dekarios. Do you do that with all your guests?” She asked with a sly grin. 

Gale wrapped his arms around her shoulders, snuggling their bodies together as he kissed the side of her head. “You’re not a guest, my love. This is your home, as much as it is mine. I’ll spend a thousand days and nights telling you that if I must.” 

Tav hooked her leg across his waist, ignoring the warmth and sweat of their skin so she could be close to him. Be taken to that paradise unique to her beloved wizard. 

“I’ll hold you to that.”

[ransprang]

Can I request headcanons for bg3 (basically the whole party) for the holiday seasons? (Fem aligned pronouns) Where reader was isekai'd from our world and she asks the party about holidays and is kind of bummed out theres nothing really similar to Christmas since its one of her favorite holidays. So When it gets cold out reader buys everyone a gift and wraps it with birch bark to surprise everyone? If you dont want to do the holiday thing maybe just reader who gets Isekai'd and has zero idea what to do and is really scared of everything because she has no idea whats going on?

hii thank you for the request, and have a happy holiday season!

BG3 x Christmas HCs

Astarion

looks at his Christmas gift “what in the hells is that?” “Is it poisonous or does it explode?” He just can’t fathom you’re just giving him a present. No ones ever been kind to him let alone share festive gifts. Eventually he will show up at your door naked “Is this a ‘Christmas’ enough present for you?”

He can’t stop laughing when you convince the rest of the camp to wear Christmas hats, “Clowns.” He calls them. You have to nudge him hard for him to stop ruining the festive spirit.

⁠”Is this Santa of yours a vampire? I mean..if he only comes out at night and punishes the naughty ones,” he gives you a smirk

Withers

"Ah the annual rite of gift-giving on the solstice. I do not value such material possessions but the sentiment is not lost on me." He will accept your gift but you will never see him use it.

Will show up at camp wearing a small Santa hat on his bald head. Will not answer any questions about it.

Sometimes you think if you hear him humming jingle bells but you can never make out the words because it's in some archaic dead language.

Laezel

touched your present with a stick “What is that? Are you trying to kill me?” She has a disgusted expression. Why would you spend your time getting her a gift instead of finding a solution for the parasite?

After a while of convincing, she’s ready to open it. She has a soft smile and doesn’t let it show that it actually made her warm even for a second.

After you sit her down and tell her the Christmas lore she rolls her eyes “Your kind disappoints me.” You tell her about the magic of Christmas as she smirks condescendingly “Whatever go do your thing, I’ll watch.”

Once she learns the carols and traditions there is no stopping her. She’s a woman who believes in long-standing institutes and traditions and she will uphold yours with pride too when she gets used to it.

Halsin

the way this man would hug you after receiving a gift ugh. you cannot tell me gift giving isn't one of his love languages, so he'd really really appreciate it

he keeps a very open mind while listening to you talking about Christmas and the traditions you practice. Being a druid he has his own rituals and beliefs which others judge so he is open

whittles you a wooden figurine of your favorite animal or of your pet from your world if you can describe it in detail

he would love the gift exchanging part of the tradition. he’d get everyone a gift, not as intricate as the one for you though. Maybe more so around herbs, flowers and potions

Shadowheart

"oh my, a present.. for me?" she'd be surprised that you even thought of getting her a gift

when she unwraps the gift she'd have a small smile on her face, "thank you y/n. this is very thoughtful of you. i'll remember this."

she’d be tad jealous that your beliefs are so fun. she’d lowkey wish Shar/Selune had celebrations that got people together

Gale

"A present? for me?", being locked up in his tower for so long he is quite taken aback.

"Why, where are my manners, thank you y/n. I do wish you told me about this tradition of yours. I'd have gotten you something. No matter, once we get the guests in our brains out, I'll make sure to get you something."

he'd use his magic to try and conjure up snow no matter where the party is camping

Minsc

Minsc gets very excited by whatever you get him since it's the thought that counts. "Look at what y/n got us Boo"

he sees how your eyes light up as you talk about Christmas so he gets equally excited for you

Minsc would dress up Boo in a red hat and green jacket (don’t ask how he got them)

nooooooot the best gift giver. he isn’t crafty, so he may end up making you arrows and a bow. but his smile is so big and bright that you’ll have to pretend to really like it

Wyll

He surprises you with a thoughtful gift before you can even give him one. His noble upbringing covered the strange Christmas customs of your land.

"To have you in my life is gift enough, my love. You didn't have to get me anything, your smile alone would have sufficed." Nonetheless, he accepts your gift with an elegant bow.

You both do a slow waltz to every single Christmas song you hear, no matter what the tempo or the lyrics are. You are simply too lost in each others' eyes to care.

Karlach

"Presents! For me? You're kidding!" She would run around camp like an excited toddler with her gifts. You would have to remind her to calm down so she wouldn't burn down the place.

"Thank you, soldier. I love it so much," she would grin at you. She would ask a lot of questions about Christmas and fall in love with the holiday. Gifts, food and wine, all of it would sound amazing to her after spending so many years in Avernus.

She would get really into the celebrations and her joy would be infectious. Watching her bust out her hip-hop moves during Silent Night would be the highlight of your evening.

Jaheira

"Oh, you got me a gift? How nice. See you can be kind to your elders." She would make fun of you in the moment but appreciate the gift nonetheless.

"It's not a knitted blanket for grandma, is it? I'm not ready to retire just yet."

Being a druid, she's not interested in the religious elements or traditions but joins in heartily for the eggnog and anything else booze-related.

your gifts,

admins sar, san & sav

[ashprince-of-bel-air]

The Wizard Of Waterdeep

I know it has probably been done many times before but i wanted to imagine how Gale felt during the entire Tadpole and Absolute ordeal.

Anyway, this is my interpretation so far.

Stuck is the word Gale would use to describe his current state, though he was an extremely verbose man of many words this was the most apt one to use. Stuck in between the Weave and the mortal realm of Faerun, his body and consciousness swirling about within the magic that tethered the two realms together. In the distance Gale was able to hear voices, voices that he hoped would belong to people that would help him out of this predicament, cursing himself for falling into it in the first place, damning his curious mind an inability to leave a swirling magic portal alone.

It took all his strength, mentally and physically, but Gale managed to centre his mind enough to reach out somewhere away from the magic surrounding him, where he was reaching he did not know, he just wanted to be free and have a corporeal form again. Gale thrust his hand forward into an open space, hoping to move it through the swirling mass of magic around him and back into the mortal realm once more. “A hand? Anyone?” Gale did not have to wait long until he felt a tug on his arm, ripping him through the portal which he foolishly fell into, landing atop his saviour, a woman who looked just as shocked and embarrassed as he did. Rising swiftly and brushing the dirt and debris from his old worn-out robes he introduced himself. Gale Of Waterdeep. Though he introduced himself emphatically and with a dash of flair, not one of the people before him knew of his name, in another life this would have shocked and offended him to his very core, baffled that they had not even heard of him, Mystra’s former chosen. Not in this life though, he had been humbled by the parasitic Netherese orb in his chest, reducing his powers significantly and making him live as a regular man, something that he had been forced to come to terms within this past year.

A swift introduction and assuring his saviour that he was usually better at introductions was all that was needed, Gale was now enlisted in a strange ragtag bunch of companions, all of whom had the same current affliction, one that he had not even bothered addressing as of yet, the Tadpole. It seemed odd to Gale that they all survived the Nautiloid crash, yet he would not question it out loud, hoping that in some way the Gods had a hand in this, hoping that even though Mystra had cast him aside that maybe she still harboured some kind of feeling for him, that she saved him by subconsciously guiding this mismatched group of people towards him. Gale shook his head from thoughts of Mystra, now was not the time to dwell on his past mistakes. Following the party ahead of him, Gale watched as the sun faded, entranced as it was the first sunset he had seen in a long while, fully admiring it and the warm glow it cast upon the land. After his time watching the setting sun, Gale ruminated on how he felt more alive now than he did in the past year, confined to his  tower and exiled from the world was not a way to live, now that he was in the thick of the wilderness he couldn’t believe he had shut himself away for so long, missing out on the feeling of adventure and the pursuit of knowledge.

The wilderness that the party had found themselves in after the crash was serene, Gale thought to himself that it was lucky they had landed here of all places, thinking that it could have been much worse as they could have landed in some barren land in the middle of nowhere. The sun began to fully set upon the horizon as the party walked through the trees, a dim crimson light struggling to penetrate through the treeline was the signal that was needed for everyone to agree that they needed a place to make camp for the night. It was not a minute too soon for Gale, the last hour he had started to feel the all too familiar prickle of pain in his fingers, a small tingle began hours ago yet he never noticed it due to the adrenaline coursing through his body in the aftermath of the crash. It was now that he could feel the painful tingle in his hand, warning him that soon he would need to consume an item imbued with the Weave once more. The Orb in his chest was always hungry for magic, craving it, causing Gale physical pain until it was satisfied.

The erection of the campsite was swift and easy, though most of Gale’s new strange amalgamation of friends had never lived rough in the wilderness, they all seemed to pitch their own tents with ease, admittedly the pale elf did need assistance to begin with although he huffed to himself as he continued on his own, muttering curses under his breath thinking that nobody could hear him, causing Gale to chuckle to himself as he erected his own tent. After the initial set up of tents and what comforts they could afford, Gale perched by the roaring campfire, warming his hand in the attempt to ease the painful feeling of pins and needles that was now in full force, the pain threatening to now work its way up his arm, flexing his hand in a frivolous attempt to subdue the pain. Hanging his head in exhaustion as he tried desperately to ignore the pain Gale wondered whether he should tell his new cohorts of his condition, part of him wanted to warn them of what peril they could be in if his orb was not sated by the Weave, yet he feared their rejection also, this was the first time he had any human contact within a year and selfishly he wanted more of it. Isolation did not suit Gale, a man such as he was born to teach and wax poetic at every opportunity, before the Orb Gale would often joke at how he wished he could live quietly in his tower with his books, a reality that did not live up to the dream when it was forced upon him.

The night waned on and each of Gales new companions retired to their own tents, he assumed they wanted the solace to come to terms with the events that had transpired in the last 24 hours. Gale on the other hand was awake, wide awake even, too troubled by the pain in his hand and the threat of the orb if not sated properly within the next few days. Positivity had always been Gale’s strong suit so he kept an open mind, optimistic that he would encounter a magical item sooner or later, yet it was hard to just rely on positivity when he could feel the stabbing pain in his hand, the feeling of the orb eating away at his life essence.

The embers of the fire dwindled finally, not without some resistance and poking from Gale, hoping to keep the fire burning in the attempt to not retire to bed. In the last year Gale would often not sleep until it consumed him against his will, wanting to be awake and take in everything whilst he still could, before the Orb took everything away from him. No amount of pressing could keep the fire alive much to Gale’s chagrin, sighing softly he retired to his own tent. The walls of his own tent should have been comforting but all they did was remind him of his tower, what should have been a place of comfort in the wilderness was only a reminder of his failings. His tent reminded him so much of his life and transgressions, and with that came the reminder of his own hubris and what caused him to be confined there, his desperate attempt to please Mystra and to be equal to a Goddess was his folly.

Eventually Gale succumbed to sleep, after much protest and frivolous attempts to stay awake it finally consumed him. The sleep was dreamless for the first time in a long while which was a blessing, the events of the day exhausting his mind, body and soul. Gale never knew it but as he slept the orb in his chest glowed, a soft purple light emitted from the markings of the Netherese Orb, from his chest it trailed up his neck and to his right eye, pulsing softly along with his heartbeat. For now, it was only a soft glow, barely illuminating his tent, yet with each passing day without any absorption of the Weave it would grow brighter, becoming a physical manifestation of the pain he was feeling, the Orb feeding on his very essence unless he could sedate it somehow.

[saintsandsorcery]

“I can’t imagine anywhere that could turn my heart from you” - The Downfall

So here’s a little something about Gale relearning some of his magic and finding some notes he had hoped to never see again…

There’s all manner of books strewn around his tower, it has a library after all. Most of them are following complex details within the weave that Tav can’t even begin to grasp. To Gale those tomes had once been ‘light reading’, but that is no longer the case.

Where once the most twisted of spells had been nothing but a night spent in his study to master, now he struggled, working his way through each work of magic, piece by piece. Though Tav was what mades all the difference. Their kind word, their little hugs and kisses throughout the day.

By the time he returns to the tower after the fight against the absolute, after falling in love with Tav, after asking them to marry him - He’s lucky, he knows he it - The magic of it all still envelopes him as he passes by a stack of long abandoned pages. They are his own, of course – all signed with a name he’s cast aside: Gale Of Waterdeep. He glares at them, as if there was something fundamentally corrupt hidden amidst the words.

But they are the next step, the final thing missing to regain all he had ever known. Back to his former glory, though glory was hardly the word he’d use to describe his old self.

He wouldn’t admit it to himself - that it had been fear that made him turn away and pursue a different task. He would sort through them eventually, just not right now. Not when everything he had ever dreamed of was right there.

But the pages are right there, royal blue ink on yellowing parchment, his downfall written in meticulous detail, his own undoing plain to see. Just as real and tangible as Tav sitting by the window, the sunlight illuminating them beautifully.

He can’t persuade himself to read through them, each time he thinks of it, that deep rooted fear sets In again. As if merely looking at them would bring him right back to the man he used to be.

Once Tav notices… he let’s himself fall into their arms, listen to them whisper how much they love him, how nothing could change that, how they will always be right by his side.

And by his side they are when he finally dares to look back. One of his hand flipping through the pages, the other gently holding Tavs.

Nothing would ever change that.

[loviatarsluv]

chapter ii. cracked ceilings

pairing: Gale x f!tav (my own oc, Elara)

(takes place mostly after the events of the game with some flashbacks sprinkled throughout)

rating: mature

CW: strong language, slight se*ual harassment (just a drunken oaf making nasty comments), blood/injury, light violence, angst

in summary: After the fall of the brain, and her home having been destroyed in the chaos, Gale offers Elara sanctuary with him back in Waterdeep. She struggles to deal with the feelings she has been harboring for him and the guilt that she’d been the one to prevent either of them from taking the relationship any further a few months prior. Yearning and pining ensues

a/n: thank you to those who were so sweet about the first chapter, it really means so much to me 🥹 i hope you enjoy this one just as much ♡︎

word count: 6.8k

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ii.

She had finally begun to understand why they called Waterdeep ‘the city of splendors’. 

Since coming to stay with Gale, Elara hadn’t left the tower much. A part of her feared running into any further trouble when she’d just experienced more chaos and turmoil than most would in their entire lives, especially now being known as The Hero of Baldur’s Gate. Despite being here rather than back home, she knew word had likely spread as far as Neverwinter by now. 

Gale had been incredibly patient with her, despite his desire to show her around his beloved city. She was boundlessly grateful for that fact despite her guilt for becoming a hermit when he was likely just happy to be home and wanted to enjoy it in its entirety.

She would tell him not to hold back on her account and to do all that he desired with his newfound freedom from the fear of the orb within himself, and that she would be fine right where she was. But she could see in his eyes that he wanted company. Her company. 

So, this time, she relented. A simple trip to the market surely couldn’t hurt, right? 

She caught the end of a familiar tune as she approached the large open window in her bedroom— a song that she remembered her mother humming absently throughout the day, and then singing to her before bed. One of the last vivid memories she had left of her. 

Elara hoped maybe they would pass the bard on their way to the market so she could toss them a few gold pieces. 

She gazed out over the expanse of the ocean and hummed along to the song until its eventual end, smiling somberly to herself. 

She glanced at herself in the mirror and tried to remember her mother’s face— tried to imagine her own face, just older, but with bright blue eyes rather than dull brown, her hair long, pin straight and black instead of untamable, wavy, and garishly bright. 

No. If there was one thing she recalled about her mother, it was that she had the sort of beauty that words couldn’t describe. The kind that scribes and bards scribbled poetry about and sang ridiculous ballads for. 

A far cry from how she viewed herself, certainly. 

Her long azure waves flowed down her back, partially braided back near the crown of her head to keep some of it out of her eyes. Shadowheart had taught her a few hairstyles to manage and tame her hair, but most of the time she just couldn’t be arsed to put in the effort. 

She dusted off some of the robes Astarion ‘purchased’ for her while they were in the Lower City, muttering something about how she desperately needed a wardrobe change. A gift wrapped in a backhanded remark, as could always be expected of Astarion. She smiles at the memory, now suddenly missing him and all of his mischief and hoping he was doing well. 

Perhaps she could pay them a visit soon. 

The robes were rather lovely— a deep cerulean mixed with accented gold metal clasps and brown leather, the length of it just right so that it doesn’t drag the floor. It suited her well. Astarion really did have a good eye, unsurprisingly. Perhaps in another life he was a tailor. 

She takes one last long look at herself in the mirror, the anxiety evident in her eyes as well as the dark circles under them. She’d barely gotten a wink of rest as her mind turned over every possibility of what could happen the moment she steps foot outside of this tower. 

Nothing that made any sense or seemed feasible— but then again, a year ago, the thought of a mindflayer invasion seemed like a fever dream. 

Now was not the time for what if’s. All would be well. She would have a nice outing with her good friend. 

Great friend.

Friend.

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Gale had mastered the art of keeping himself occupied. 

He somehow always had something he could be working on or a book he could be reading or a subject he could study further, especially in times when his mind required redirection.

Or distraction, rather.

Spending an entire year in solitude with only yourself, your books, and four walls to keep you company teaches you many things about yourself. 

Spending months surrounded by who very likely could be the love of your life without the ability to act on that feeling also teaches you many things about yourself. 

There had been many days spent holed up in his library, trying all that he could to keep his mind off of anything other than her and her eyes (one a deep, rich brown and the other a much lighter, honey-like shade) and her dazzling smile that made him feel like if the orb were still present in his chest, he would be at risk of implosion just at the sight of it. 

Now, to have a proper outing that would finally be just the two of them after months of dropping hints— he was feeling quite restless. 

So much so, that he basically leaps to his feet at the sound of her footsteps bounding down the stairs, standing quickly and straightening his clothes before she appears from the staircase, adjusting himself and ensuring nothing was askew or out of place. He smooths his hair, tucking a strand behind his ear and adjusts his sleeves just before she emerges, his heart skipping a beat as he sees her.  

He had to remind himself many times that this excursion was nothing more than a quick trip to the market— but it did little to quell the sweat beads rising in his palm and the buzzing in his stomach. 

He hadn’t spent a lot of time with her that felt like they were both choosing each other’s company. It almost always felt like they just happened to end up in the same room as each other by chance, or if they did, it was merely to complete a task. To do research, to eat breakfast or dinner, to exchange notes.

If it were up to him, he would remain at her side every moment that her eyes were open and if he were allowed, even those when they were closed. 

He was only waiting for the right moment, or any sort of notion that she had perhaps changed her mind— then, he would— well, do something.

Uncharacteristically enough for him, he hadn’t really thought that far yet. 

Now may be an apt time to start, though.

“Sorry I took so long, I had to make sure I had everything so we can stock up and last us a little longer.” She says with a huff, gesturing to the two wicker baskets draped over her arms. 

He stares at her for longer than was necessary, mouth slightly agape as he took in the sight of her. It wasn’t unusual for her to look anything short of breathtaking, but this had been the most put together he’d seen her since bringing her back to Waterdeep. She looked—

“Radiant,” he mutters, not realizing the word hadn’t remained only in his mind. 

She smirks at him awkwardly, looking down at herself. “What did you say?” 

He shakes his head, clearing his throat. “I said— I just meant— you look lovely today.” 

She chuckles, averting her gaze sheepishly. “Funny.” 

“Not at all. I meant it, Elara. You look… you are radiant.” He says, his voice low and reverent, as if he were admiring a painting hung in a gallery. 

A blush rises to her cheeks as she tries to fight off what would probably have been the widest she’d ever smiled in her life. “Oh… well, thank you, Gale. You look… dashing. As always.” She replies, the dimples in her cheeks visible as she grins shyly. 

“Why, thank you, my lady,” he says with a bow, then holds his hand out as an invitation for hers. She timidly places her hand in his, and he presses a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “Shall we?” 

She’s taken aback by the gesture, her already intense blush only becoming ever more prominent and persistent, the heat in her cheeks beginning to feel as though she may burn up before they even make it outside. 

She nods slowly, then follows his lead out the door, her hand lingering in his until they reach the front door steps. She takes a few steps ahead of him and attempts to steady her breathing, as he quickly casts Arcane Lock on the door before rejoining her.

Everything seemed to come alive with a brand new vigor— the streets were full again, the sounds of children running and playing as well as the Waterdhavian locals just existing and enjoying the sunshine for the first time in months echoed off the sides of the stone buildings that lined the streets. The faint melodic strumming of a lyre could be heard not too far from the Dekarios residence, as a bard occupied a spot just outside one of the nearby taverns and busked for coins throughout the day. 

They walk side by side in silence for a little while, both of them happily drinking in the sights surrounding them. Gale points out places and bits of interest as they walk, telling her stories of his life growing up on these very streets. 

She listens to him, but her mind fills any empty gaps with his voice echoing in her mind again and again. 

You are radiant. 

Gale was not averse to a bit of flattery, it wasn’t an uncommon behavior for him to compliment her or offer her or anyone else a kind word when it seemed they needed it, and even times when they didn’t.

But something about the phrasing of it struck her. Almost in a way that nearly made her believe it. If Gale Dekarios thought she was radiant, then by the gods, she must be. 

No one had ever seemed to look at her twice before in her life— none had ever seen her in that light or verbalized such a thing to her before. Not like that.

But Gale— gods, she’d write it in the stars if she could. She would paint the night sky with each syllable in only the most dazzling of stars, the brightest she could find— so that every night she could remember the way it sounded dripping from his tongue like honey. 

A single word had never filled her entire body with a warmth that the sun’s rays could never provide.

Radiant.

“I’m not sure if I’ve asked you yet, but how have you enjoyed Waterdeep thus far? Despite not having seen much of it yet,” He asks, slowing his pace slightly to accommodate her, her legs being shorter than his so her shorter strides made her fall behind. 

He had asked, a few times. But that was months ago when it was all still new. Plus— her answer had changed considerably since the last time he asked. 

“Hush, you,” She pushes his shoulder playfully, a soft melodic giggle following. Gale’s heart flutters. 

“Not to worry. We are remedying that from this day forward. By the time we’re done, you’ll never want to go back to Baldur’s Gate, I guarantee it.” He says proudly, a dash of hope in his eyes as he does. 

“I don’t know. Does Waterdeep get invaded by tentacled monsters and completely ravaged by cultists and corrupt politicians and their armies regularly? Might not be my speed,” she teases. 

“It is not without its strange happenings, I can assure you. Nothing quite so severe, I am regretful to say.” 

“A shame.” 

They smile at each other for the length of the lull in conversation, their banter bringing memories of their adventuring days back to the forefront. The gleam in Gale’s eye causes her to look away as if she’d looked at the sun for too long. 

After a beat, Gale continues. “But, there is nothing quite like witnessing the changing of the seasons in Waterdeep. I’m happy to provide that experience for you, at long last.” He replies, punctuating it with a wink. 

She rolls her eyes and bumps her shoulder to his, averting her gaze to the cobblestone beneath her feet as they continue to walk. “Thank you, for that, by the way. For… letting me stay with you. I know it’s not ideal. I’m sure you would’ve liked to enjoy some peace and quiet in your home after everything… and I don’t know if I have properly thanked you for allowing me to stay with you, so,” she rambles, the heat in her cheeks only increasing. 

He places a soothing hand on her arm, his fingertips featherlight as he slowly runs them along the length of her bicep before returning to his side. 

“After a year of complete solitude outside of my cat and hundreds of books whose pages I am all too familiar with, your company is more than wonderful and most welcome. No thanks necessary.” 

When she meets his eyes, the warm and mirthful smile that greets her nearly turns her legs to jelly, but she would happily melt under the sunshine that was his gaze. 

Before she can attempt to craft a response to him, a commotion is heard ahead, and both of their attention snaps to it.

A crowd has begun to form near the front of the nearby tavern, and not a single intelligible word could be made out of the raucous whooping within the crowd of presumably day drunk patrons and bystanders craning their necks to watch whatever was taking place at the center of it. She furrows her brows, shooting Gale an inquisitive glance.

She watches closely for a moment before she feels Gale’s guiding hand on her back, urging her to go in a different direction, any other direction. 

“Come, let’s push on. There is no shortage of drunken tomfoolery around here, it’s nothing to concern ourselves with. Besides, Tara will be waiting for us, and trust me when I say she is not the most pleasant when she’s been kept waiting,” he says, his voice low next to her ear. It was a throwaway excuse to pull her away from the ruckus and to safety to avoid potentially getting swept into a hysteria she needn’t get swept into. 

If her mind hadn’t been so preoccupied by whatever was happening in front of them, she’d have been blushing furiously at the position of his hand, just above the small of her back. Something to try not to think too much about later. 

Her eyes flick to him for an instant before she hears what sounded like a lyre being smashed against the side of the bricked building. Her head snaps in that direction, and the crowd parts in just the right way for her to see a young tiefling crumpled to the ground with his face in his hands, and an older human man above mocking him, gripping part of the smashed instrument in one of his fists. 

Her face twists to a deep grimace, and before she can stop herself her feet are carrying her forward, her pace quickening. Gale calls to her from behind, his voice distant and nearly inaudible over the loud pounding and drumming of her heart in her ears. 

The crowd has begun to disperse only slightly, but a handful of people still linger and are either cheering on the older man or encouraging the tiefling to stand and fight. The tiefling’s shoulders shake and tremble as he cowers away from the inebriated brute towering over him bellowing nonsense.

The man stands above what she can now see is merely a child, no older than thirteen, shouting taunts of profanity and cruelty that she tries her hardest to disregard before the lightning crackling in her palm can (very easily) send him onto his ass. 

She calms herself as she shoves her way through the crowd, taking a breath before she approaches the child and kneels before him.

“Hello,” she says, her voice soft so as to not startle him. She places a gentle hand on his arm, coaxing him into looking up at her. “Are you okay?” 

Before he can respond, the booming of the perpetrator’s slurred mockery echoing throughout the small alleyway interrupts them both. 

“Oi, missy! Careful, the little foulblood’ll snatch yer coin purse when ye ain’t lookin’!” 

The tiefling peers at her with desperate eyes, his flickering flame-like yellow irises beginning to gloss over again as new sobs begin to wrack through his fragile looking body. “I didn’t— I swear, I didn’t do a-anything!” 

She searches his face for any sign of deceit, noticing the faint scar that ran along his cheek from his eye to the corner of his lip that looked like it had only healed somewhat recently. His body language resembles that of a frightened pup in a cage and his tears seem genuine, so she offers him a reassuring smile. “I believe you.” 

“‘M talkin’ ta ye, missy! Ye got shit for manners too?” The man yells again, the sound of the broken instrument clattering to the ground following it. 

She continues to ignore him, entirely unfazed by his drunken tirade or his hulking size. She’d fought monsters far more intimidating in the last year, he would be quick work if it came to that. 

“‘Ye think yer too good fer ‘vryone, too good ta’ listen when a man talks ta’ ye.” He rants, her last few strings of patience beginning to wear dangerously thin.

“No, I just don’t care to listen to drunken oafs.” She retorts, her tone nonchalant and almost cocky in a way that sets the man over the edge.

The man launches into a blind rage, and she barely has a second to comprehend the situation before she hears a grunt of fury and large hands crash into the side of her body, surely bruising her ribs with the force it took to shove her to the ground, nearly knocking the breath from her lungs. She yelps as stone scrapes across her bare arm and the side of her head collides with the ground. The tiefling jumps backward and out of the line of fire of the older man’s warpath, eyes wide and boring into hers in terror. 

“Elara!” Gale calls out, pushing through the now dense crowd frantically. 

He finally makes it through, and the very second his eyes lock on her as she attempts to sit up, fire burns through his veins and concentrates at the center of his palm.

He notices a small trickle of blood running down the side of her face, one hand clutching her ribs as the other presses over the tender spot where her skull met stone. He’s at her side in an instant, gathering her up into his arms and holding on to her tightly. 

“Are you alright?” He asks her, his voice cracking with concern. 

She bristles, fury flaring within her. Before she can stop herself, her once brown eyes glow blue, the lightning coursing through her burning its way down to her palms. Gale’s eyes widened before scrambling to calm her before causing even more of a scene, despite her ire being well deserved on the drunken man’s end. 

“Not here, Elara. Let me handle this, please.” 

He places a hand on her cheek, his palm catching a drop of warm blood that makes his boil. 

After a moment of contemplation she nods, the anger still evident in her furrowed brow. She glances between him and the child backed against the wall, her main focus still on ensuring his safety. She motions to the child for him to stand with her, and Gale steps in front of them both protectively as he turns to face the drunkard. 

“‘S that yer boyfriend, eh, girly? Wanna know how it feels t’ be with a real man?” The man cackles, stumbling forward as he belly laughs at his own vile taunts. 

Gale’s own composure is slipping as he feels the heat from the fire itching at his fingertips as it begins to emit a faint and crackling orange glow. 

“It may be wise to walk away, friend.” Gale’s voice is threateningly calm, soft with a not-so-hidden edge to it. 

The man balks at the wizard, much smaller in stature than himself yet somehow still intimidating in nature. Likely more so intimidating once he realizes who he was up against. Not intimidating enough not to egg them on, however. 

The man’s yellowed teeth show in a crooked smile. “Aye… I know the two of ye. If it ain’t the cunt of Waterdeep and the so called Hero of Baldur’s Gate. Softened up since the squids left town, have ye?” 

Elara dashes forward before Gale’s arm comes out to stop her, magic surging between both of them like a thunderstorm brewing in the heavens. 

“Piss off, ugly. Lest you leave with a scorched hide.” Elara hisses, pushing against Gale’s arm that served as a barrier between them. 

“Didn’t think th’ mighty Hero of Baldur’s Gate wa’ just a common whore off th’ streets. Funny, that is, innit?” 

Gale’s shoulders tense and his jaw clenches, gritting his teeth to bite back the storm of curses burdening the tip of his tongue. “Walk away. Now.” 

His fingers twitch against the effort it takes not to hurl a fire bolt right at the bastard’s cocky face, but it seemed he wouldn’t have to as the man notices the faint glow of fire in Gale’s palm as well as the lightning crackling in Elara’s and begins to back away, apprehension etching into his weathered and sunburnt features, fear visible in his eyes. 

“You lot ‘re just as uppity as I thought ye’d be,” he mutters as he raises his hands in surrender, then quickly rounds the corner and dashes down the alley without another word, and the wizard relaxes his hand, dispelling the cantrip from his palm. 

The air is still crackling with tension as the three of them try to steady their breathing, Gale in particular finding it difficult as the sight of her on the ground and her sweet face that, prior to this entire encounter, had been adorned with a smile that could stop a charging Minotaur in its tracks, twisted in pain and a gash on her forehead. Not to mention the disgusting comment that foul—

Deep breaths. 

The crowd slowly begins to disperse, some eyeing the two wizards wearily as they begin to back away, some pointing at them and whispering to their counterparts, some recognizing them and some inquiring to who they were or what their significance was. 

Eventually they, too, depart, leaving only two of them and the tiefling who was still cowering behind Elara, gripping the back of her robes as if he would fall through a crack in the ground without her anchoring him. 

Gale spins around and cups Elara’s face gently, his umber eyes teeming with distress and a bit of anger as they scan her face for any further signs of injury or harm. Her eyes still glowed blue despite the situation stabilizing.

“Elara,” Gale whispers soothingly. “It’s over.” 

Her eyes meet his as she blinks a few times, until they return to their natural deep earthy tone, sparkling as water burgeons at the corners. 

Gods, she has the most beautiful eyes. 

“Are you well? Did he hurt you? Is your head okay?” He asks frantically, the words tumbling from his lips in rapid succession as he gently turns her head to check each side of her face. 

She swallows hard and tries not to get lost in the way his strong but elegant hands feel on her burning cheeks as he fusses over her, and places her hand over one of his in an attempt at calming his distraught babbling. 

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she shushes him, placing her other hand on his arm. “Everything is fine.” 

Gale frowns. “It is most certainly not fine, you hit your head and you are bleeding. We should head back and clean that up, I’ll just run to the market tomorrow—”

“Gale.” She coos, cutting his rambling short. “You act as if you haven’t seen me in much more dire straits. I will live.” 

He stops, his entire body stilling and a heat creeping to his cheeks. Reality washes over him again as he blinks out of his worrisome daze, and realizes his hands still on her cheeks, and her hand over his— oh, hells, her hands are so soft, so warm— and slowly begins to pull away. She nods her head in the direction of the child attached to her hip, reminding him that they had company still. He takes a deep breath and glances around, likely looking to see if he catches a glimpse of that bastard and hoping that he was still within range for him to send a witch bolt his way. He’s unable to hide his disappointment when his search is fruitless. 

The child’s eyes widen when Gale turns once again to face them and sighs deeply, his shoulders sinking low when all of the air exits his lungs, his body seeming to shrink with his posture. He slams his eyes shut tight, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking slow and steady breaths to calm himself. 

“Mystra, give me strength.” He murmurs under his breath.

Elara ignores the disgruntled wizard at her side, leaning down slightly to be closer to the smaller tiefling’s height. 

Elara smiles reassuringly and places her hands on his shoulders. “I’m so sorry about that. Are you okay?” 

The child stares up at her, his eyes darting back and forth between her and the man brooding behind her. 

“He’s with me, it’s alright.” She says, making her best attempt at a soothing and calm tone despite her voice wavering. 

The tiefling’s eyes dart to the wreckage that is left of what was once his instrument, and his frown deepens. “My lyre…” 

She follows his gaze, wincing when she sees the extensive damage. She could tell instantly upon inspection even from a distance that there was no repairing it, and it would simply need to be replaced. She offers him a sympathetic smile and a pat on the shoulder. What was once what appeared to be a beautiful instrument, was now shattered into several jagged pieces, sprawling across the ground around them. She frowns, feeling regretful for its owner but also for herself— an echo of a memory from this morning when she heard her favorite song being strummed by it reverberating in her mind. 

“What’s your name?” She asks him. 

He bounces heel to toe, his hands behind his back timidly. His peach-tinted skin contrasts the dark mop of curls atop his head, with two small horns peeking out of them. He’s quite slender, but still has the tiny bit of pudge that a prepubescent child would have, his cheeks round and youthful. He reminds her of the kids from the Emerald Grove. She smiles sadly, hoping the ones that made it were doing well. 

“Dex.” He says meekly, his face downcast and defeated as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Dex. I’m Elara, and this—” she motions to the man behind her. “is Gale.”

Gale’s attention snaps to her at the sound of his own name, clearly having been mentally elsewhere during the entire exchange. He meets the uncertain gaze of the child, and bows slightly, offering a warm smile. Dex smiles back, a small chuckle leaving his lips at the gesture. 

“Thank you, for helping me. I’m s-sorry you got hurt,” he points to her bloodied forehead and forearm, reminding her of the stinging sensation biting at her nerves shallowly within her skin. Her head was pounding and throbbing, her vision not entirely steady, but she tries her best to disregard it for the moment.

“I think I’ll live. I’m sorry about your lyre.” She says, motioning to the scattered wooden debris and frayed strings. 

He shrugs. “I’ll live.” 

She chuckles, her smile widening. Gale watches her with this unfamiliar child that she had no real reason to be so kind to, other than just out of the boundless kindness of her heart, and feels that warm twinge in his chest he’d grown all too familiar with since she made her grand entrance in his life. He’d seen her with kids many times now, whether it was with the tieflings or with Yenna, but each time his heart skips several beats and the urge to whisk her away and kiss her on the stoop like he’d previously imagined becomes harder and harder to resist.

“Well, Dex. I think you’d best get going home. It’ll be dark before too long and I’m sure your parents will be worried. Hm?” She tries on her best schoolteacher voice, placing her hands on her hips. 

Dex sighs, his entire body shrinking at the mention of his parents. “I don’t want to go home without my lyre… they’ll be furious at me.”

She pauses for a moment, then shoots Gale a pleading glance, hoping he has any bright ideas that could magically fix everything for this poor child. She looked at him as if the child were a lost kitten that she was begging him to let her bring home. 

He looks toward the sky pensively for a moment, appearing as if he were doing calculations in his head, then wordlessly and effortlessly waves his hand in a flourish, whispering an incantation that reassembles the lyre with a purple hued fog of weave. 

Dex’s widened eyes sparkle with glee as each of the fractured pieces of the instrument rejoin as if they’d never been apart to begin with. The lyre floats toward the child, basked in violet and sapphire light, landing gently into his still shaky grasp. Gale smiles and nods at the boy as the light fades, his eyes gleaming with a hint of pride. 

“Weeping bleeding hells! How did you do that?!” He chirps, turning the lyre in his hands and inspecting each and every inch of it in search of any cracks or imperfections, then smiling a wide toothy grin, his pointed teeth peeking over his lips when there is not a single dent or scratch to be found. 

Gale chuckles, then pats the boy on the shoulder. “Stay out of trouble, young man. Hopefully next time we meet will be under better circumstances.” 

She turns to Gale, impressed. “You have got to teach me whatever the hell that was.”

The young tiefling glances back to Elara, the exuberant expression on his face contrasting the tear stains still present on his cheeks. Before she or Gale have any time to react, he throws his body between them, wrapping his tiny arms around the both of them as best as he could manage, and nuzzling his face into Elara’s arm. 

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” He says as he pulls away and turns to leave, glancing over his shoulder and waving to them one last time before scurrying off. 

She watches the boy disappear into the distance, skipping along the cobblestone streets with a childish glee that fills her with a wistful sensation— to be that young and for everything to be so new, for something as simple as a fixed lyre to make her completely forget any hurt or pain that had befallen her. She envies him, silently, as she watches him run home to his parents surely to regale everything that happened to him today, just as she wished she’d been able to every time something exciting happened to her during the day. 

Gale notices her sudden shift in demeanor, then places a hand placatingly on her uninjured arm. 

“Elara?” His voice is gentle and tepid. “Allow me to help you with this,” he says, motioning to the still bleeding cut on her head. “Let’s head back.” 

She sighs, turning to him but unable to muster a genuine smile, still taken by real memories and those that never came to pass. Her lips curl, but her eyes remain glossy and sullen. She nods, the motion small and nearly imperceptible. Without another word, they head back to the tower, her arm never leaving the comfort of Gale’s hand as they walk. 

Something so simple, something that could mean nothing. But to her, it meant everything. 

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The scent of balsam and sandalwood fills the room as Gale’s adept fingers gently dab at the small cut on her forehead, his eyes narrowed and his brows knitted together in deep concentration.

He pestered her until he could coax her into sitting in her favorite spot on the chaise where he could tend to her, much to her protest.

Stubborn wizard, she grunted as he gently guided her to sit. He did not regard any of her disgruntled murmurs, nor her insistence that she was fine and not to worry. 

Just as she’d helped that boy on the street, he felt the least he could do is take gentle care of her the way she would anyone else. He recalled noticing her attempting to heal herself or patch her own wounds when no one was looking while they were on the road, before eventually having to ask Shadowheart for a quick healing spell, much to her dismay. Had she always had to pick herself up? Had no one ever swept in and dusted her off when she fell before? 

He would. From now forward. Even if it were something as small and simple as rubbing balsam on her wounds, however small, and wrapping it with the softest cloth he could find. He would be that for her. He would be anything for her, should she ask. 

It wasn’t lost on him how intimate of a gesture it was, to treat another’s wounds, either— he couldn’t deny that he simply just wanted to care for her in a way that felt deeper than just cooking for her and providing a bed for her to sleep in. 

“That was incredibly admirable of you, back there. Stepping in like that. That boy won’t soon forget what you’ve done for him.” He says, his tone reverent and almost thankful on the child’s behalf.

She smiles a soft smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“Guess the hero gig is one I haven’t quite given up on,” she half-jokes. “He seemed like a sweet kid. And I would hope someone would do the same if it were me, in his shoes.” 

She says it, but she realizes that Gale sort of had done the same for her, many times— especially the way he stepped in and deescalated the situation today. The way he stood in front of them protectively, blocking them with his body as if he were willing and ready to take whatever blows were aimed at them in their place. 

“He’ll remember you, too,” she continues, her breath slightly catching as he rubs balsam on the still raw and tender spot just above her eyebrow, and wincing as the fabric of the cloth brushes against the raised skin. “You saved him twice, in a way. Saved him from a drunkard and an angry lecture from his parents.” 

He chuckles, shaking his head causing a stray strand of hair to fall into his eyes as he does. “I suppose so. You took care of all the heavy lifting, though. I just helped with the clean up.” 

She fights herself and her need to push that hair out of his eyes. Would that be too intimate? Would that push things too far? 

Her eyes lock on the strand as she speaks. “You did your own heavy lifting, for my sake. Thank you. For stepping in. And for this,” her eyes dart up to his wrist, just as he finishes. “Even though you didn’t have to.” 

He places the soiled cloth aside then sits back slightly, where he was still able to see every detail of her face as clearly as he could see his own in a mirror when he was close enough, and eyes her for a moment, a smile ghosting on the edges of his lips. 

“To do something for someone doesn’t always have to be borne of necessity or desire for reciprocity. I wanted to.” 

His face was so close, she could nearly feel his breath whispering across the flushed skin of her cheeks. She wants to say thank you again, but finds that every single word in her vocabulary has escaped her as she basks in this closeness and the way she can see the reflection of the flickering candle beside her in his dark eyes that still managed to seem so bright with the way they twinkled as he looked at her. 

“Can I ask you something?” He breaks the silence but not the tension as their gazes stay locked. 

She nods, dazed by the closeness, intoxicated by his presence.

“Back in the Shadow Cursed Lands… when you said that our relationship couldn’t go any further… did you mean that?”

She swallows hard despite her throat feeling dry, her entire body tensing at his questioning. The emotions of the day had fluctuated so immensely and the mention of the thing that had been weighing so heavily on her mind for so long only served to bid them to return in full force. A pit forms in her stomach and she feels the urge to retreat. 

“Gale...” She tries to maintain composure, despite her words wavering upon delivery. She offers Gale that same smile from before— the one that never quite reached her eyes. He frowns, but nods. 

“Understood.” He says simply, their faces still dangerously close.

“No, no— I don’t mean— I am just not sure if I have the proper words to convey to you. I—” He moves one hand to comfortingly cover hers as it rests on her knee, patting it gently.

“Perhaps it was too bold of a question after such a harrowing day. Disregard it.” 

The warmth of his hand and his words radiates throughout her entire body, down to her bones. She notices the strand is still hanging in front of his eyes. She doesn’t hold herself back from brushing it away this time, her fingertips lightly graze his forehead as she tucks it behind his ear. Her hand lingers near his face for a while, but not nearly long enough, before she drops it back to her side.

“What if I said no?” She utters fearfully, her voice betraying her and her moment of courage. “Does that change things?”

Gale balks at her, taken aback by the gesture and her words, quick flickers of shock, trepidation, then elation flashing across his expression. He smiles a smile that sends a shiver through her, his eyes dropping to her lips and the gap between them suddenly seeming so much smaller. 

Oh. 

It was getting smaller, as she realized that the magnetic pull between their lips was getting stronger as they both began to lean in, her body taking the reins as her mind tried to make sense of what was happening and determine if she were dreaming or not— had she hit her head hard enough to hallucinate?

“Mr. Dekarios?”

The sound of Tara’s voice calling from down the hall cuts the moment short, both of their heads snapping in the direction of the sudden intrusion. Gale sighs, his head falling in evident disappointment. He glances at her, her eyes wide and her cheeks a bright rosy red that makes his heart flutter. 

“Gods damn it... I should—”

“No worries, go ahead. I’m going to go rest, my head is killing me.” She waves him off, her voice strained and brimming with disappointment.

Gale stares at her for a moment, the desire to kiss her still lingering but ebbing as he sees her pulling away, suddenly feeling as though he’d done something terribly wrong. He opens his mouth to ask, but before he can she’s standing and quickly darting across the room and into the hall, stopping just at the doorway and peering at him over her shoulder. 

She sighs, placing a hand on the doorway and using it for support, her legs feeling as though they may give out on the spot. “Thank you, again.” 

He watches helplessly as she disappears into the hall and the sounds of her footsteps fade slowly, preceded by the sound of a  bedroom door clicking shut. His eyes pinch shut so tightly that he sees stars amidst the inky blackness behind them, and he sinks back into his chair, wishing a blackhole would form underneath him and swallow him.

He could conjure one, if he wanted to. 

He heavily considered it. 

“Mr. Dekarios, fix your posture! Your back already aches enough as it is,” Tara admonishes him as she strolls into the room, blissfully unaware of the havoc she’d just wreaked on his sanity. 

As per usual. 

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There were a surprising amount of cracks in the ceiling above the bed in the room that she stayed in. 

Everything else in this tower seemed nearly pristine aside from appearing well lived in and well loved, Gale evidently cared greatly about his surroundings. The home was cluttered but organized to his exact liking, perfectly tidy apart from books and papers and scrolls strewn about but still cozy and comfortable. Anyone who entered would feel at home. 

She felt at home, more than she wanted to admit to herself. She tried to continue to remind herself that at some point she would have to leave and move on. But as she lay in this bed— this large, ever so comfortable bed— gaze trailing along the strangely cracked ceiling of her bedroom, she wondered what the ceiling of his bedroom looked like. 

She was certain there were no cracks in his bedroom ceiling. There couldn’t be. 

Today had been immensely overwhelming in terms of her feelings toward Gale that had once been burning embers and were now alight in full force— him having stoked the flames tenfold with his seemingly innocent touches and his ardent care for her that he put on full display multiple times throughout the day, all culminating in an almost-kiss. 

They almost kissed. He almost kissed her.

They were so close. She could still feel the heat of his breath against her cheeks and the skin on the back of her hand tingled with the sensation as if his hand remained there still, his thumb rubbing languid circles against her wrist.

In fact, every part of her skin that he’d touched today still felt as if it had been electrically charged, still buzzing and alight with energy that had nowhere to go. She missed the feeling of him already and it was only a mere whisper of a taste rather than an entire bite. 

It wasn’t entirely her fault, obviously, that it never came to pass— Tara had a way of having serendipitously terrible timing. She wasn’t always sure that Tara didn’t know exactly what she was doing, and she wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case this time. 

It was endearing, most of the time. 

But even if Tara hadn’t interrupted— would she have really kissed him? Would he have really kissed her? Or would some other force of nature and horrible timing pluck them out of each other's grasps yet again? 

She thinks maybe he would have. She hopes. 

Now, she’s not sure she’ll ever get the chance to. 

Guilt began to gnaw and claw at her insides furiously as she remembered the way she’d exited the study— hurried and curtly— and the way hurt and confusion etched into his features as he watched her leave.

She loved him. She knew that she did. There was no way around it. She loved him and it was killing her.

But something always stops her in the moments when she longs to tell him, to finally let him in.

It wasn’t that she was inexperienced in the romance department— she’d had a few partners here and there, nothing substantial and all quite short lived— and if she’s being honest, she had never felt strongly toward a single one of them. Most were kind, loving. She enjoyed their company. But she’d never felt comfortable enough to open up to another person and allow them to see the less than savory bits of her that she kept to herself.

And strangely enough, she felt very comfortable with Gale most of the time— she had to, during all those months traveling together. They all saw each other at their worst and lowest moments, but they supported each other through it all. Gale had been particularly helpful to her amidst her own personal struggles she faced in that time. He had been the closest to her, aside from Astarion and Shadowheart.

He’s an easy person to just exist with. That is, if you aren’t hopelessly enamored with him. 

Gods. 

She clenches her eyes shut and pinches the bridge of her nose— another habit of Gale’s that she’d picked up— wishing the large quilt and plush mattress beneath her would just swallow her. Just take her away from it all and save her from having to deal with the consequences of her own idiocy. 

Knock knock. 

“Elara?” 

The sound of Gale’s voice on the other side of her door lurches her from her thoughts and her body up from the mattress. She quickly hops off of the bed and approaches the door, her hand hovering shakily over the handle. 

“Yes?” She asks, turning her head so her voice appears further away than it actually was. 

She hears what sounds like feet shuffling aside from a brief pause, before hearing a long and defeated sigh. 

“Can we talk?” Is all he manages, dejection evident in his tone. 

She reaches for the handle again, turning it slowly and pulling the door just enough to see him through the crack. 

He looked the way he did when something was weighing heavily on his mind or vexing him— she could tell he’d been raking his fingers frantically through his hair as it was uncharacteristically messy and unkempt, his robes were nowhere to be seen, and he stood only in his white wrap shirt that was tied dangerously loosely and tucked into his breeches. 

Not now, brain. Not now. 

“Everything alright?” She asks, trying to hide the sound of her swallowing the massive lump in her throat. 

He shakes his head, placing his hand against the wood grain and gently pushing it, opening it further. 

“The very question I came to ask you,” he retorts. “May I?” 

She nods, backing away from the door to give him enough room to push it the rest of the way open, her heart thudding a million a minute.

He stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame, his expression nearly unreadable. For as expressive as his eyes were, she had such a hard time understanding him or trying to sort out what mental storm was brewing in his head sometimes.

“I could not bear resting my head upon my pillow and or fathom sleeping a wink tonight without knowing whether I’ve done something to upset you or not. If I crossed any lines today, please do tell me, and allow me to offer my most sincere of apologies for—”

What? 

“Gale—“ 

“—ever making you feel uncomfortable or uneasy in any way, I would never want to jeopardize the friendship that I feel we have formed over the course of this past year and—”

“Gale, hold on—”

“—if I’ve done something to potentially sour anything, just know it was never my intention—“ 

“Gale!” She raises her voice in a final attempt to catch the rambling wizard’s attention, crossing the space between them and placing her hands on his shoulders. 

He takes a deep breath, his shoulders tense and she can feel the way his body trembles slightly. 

“Relax, please. You haven’t done anything to make me uncomfortable. Ever.” She coos, rubbing circles with her thumb into his shoulder. 

A few days ago, a gesture like this would’ve made her entire being feel as though she were on fire— but after today, it felt right. After receiving such care and comfort from him, the least she felt she could do was to return it in kind. 

He stares at her incredulously, as if he simply just doesn’t believe a word she’s saying. 

“You don’t have to spare me, Elara. I saw that look in your eyes. I never want to make you feel that way, ever again.” His face softens as he speaks, the pain of potentially slighting her in some way weighing heavily on his chest. 

She blinks a few times, then that gnawing guilt returns with even sharper teeth, maybe some claws too. She pinches her eyes shut and releases a long breath from her nose. 

“You— you think I didn’t want to kiss you?” She murmurs under her breath.

“I feel as though I keep pushing you and all I’ve done is push you further away.” He responds, the hurt evident in his slightly quivering voice.

Her eyes had begun to burn at this point.

“Gale… it isn’t you. Truly,” she cringes at her own words, realizing how it sounded. “I just— there is a lot on my mind right now, and I don’t want to burden you with any of it. That’s all.”

It wasn’t a lie, at least not entirely. There was a lot on her mind— even if most of it pertained to a certain brown eyed wizard who happened to be standing in her doorway, looking like that. 

His eyes find hers in the dim candlelight, searching them for something, anything that could answer at least one of the myriad of questions he wanted to but couldn’t muster the nerve to ask.

The pale blue moonlight filters in through the large window on the other side of the room, almost haloing her and basking her in an ethereal glow. 

“It’s not a burden if it’s taken on willingly,” he contests, taking one tentative step toward her. “I care for you, Elara.”

If the room had been any quieter, she swears the sound of her heart booming through the smaller space would be deafening. “It’s not important. You have many other things to concern yourself with, I don’t expect you to—”

“The only thing concerning me presently is—” he pauses. You, is what he wants to say, but can’t seem to wrench it out of himself. “What is important to you is important to me. I meant it when I said that we work better as a team, you and I.” 

How this man has not been wed yet, is beyond madness to her.

“Gale…” it comes out more as a plea, as she feels her resolve to maintain composure weakening bit by bit as the conversation continues. She was exhausted, physically and mentally, and her heart had been through enough strain in one day. 

His shoulders sink. This was one of several attempts now that he’d made to break down the walls she had built up, and he was beginning to feel more like the villain rather than the hero coming to rescue the trapped maiden from her tower. 

“I do apologize. I fear I have overstepped once again. Here may be a good place to leave this conversation for now. I’ll let you rest.” He resigns, his words betraying the sullen expression he held. 

“Gale, no, I didn’t mean—” 

He holds his hand up to stop her. “It’s quite alright. Get some rest. Goodnight, Elara.” 

Before she can stop him, he turns to leave, pulling the door shut behind him. 

The room suddenly feels several degrees colder than it had prior to what had just occurred. She feels as though all of the oxygen had been sucked from her lungs and every bit of strength had been sapped from her body within a split second— emotional fortitude included, as tears that had been begging to be shed that she had been neglecting for longer than she could confidently say finally began to fall, slipping down her cheeks and wetting the collar of her night shirt. 

Her head falls back as she makes eye contact with the ceiling once again, gaze finding a large crack just above where she stood. It looked fresh, almost. Like it had occurred within the last day or so. 

She wondered if he noticed it while he stood in the doorway. 

She wondered if he was in his room, staring at the ceiling of his own bedroom. 

“Goodnight, Gale.” She whispers into the darkness of the night.

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previous chapter ❥ next chapter (coming soon) ❥ masterlist

(lmk if you’d like to be tagged in the coming chapters :3)

[senualothbrok]

Hello friend!! I have been thinking about undiagnosed sorcerer Gale a lot lately, so I am making it your problem too.

You only gradually become aware of it, and once you are you wonder how you hadn't noticed. Maybe it's the passage of time, each day one step away from the nautiloid and the Netherbrain and all of it--each day that much more distance from Gale's last audience with Mystra. The burden of the Orb hadn't been yours, but it had been heavy enough that you felt lighter when you saw his face as he stepped out that portal. Maybe, like the wounds you both bring back with you to Waterdeep, your mind needed the chance to heal before it could process even more.

More in this case is living with Gale. It had been one thing being on the road, chased from danger to danger; all you'd been able to think those nights you'd collapsed into his tent with him was we made it, with a fervent hope he'd be next to you when you woke and still next to you the night following. Now, you lie down with him night after night and wake up to him morning after morning, and as you let yourself accept that this is how things will be, you start to notice.

The tower is suffused with magic.

It's not only the spells and wards that Gale has woven into the very heart of it, or the numerous enchantments he's created to make life easier, or the artifacts and books you've brought home with you. It's Gale himself.

Surrounded by magic and slow to shed the exhaustion that's clung to you since Baldur's Gate, you need some time to sense the difference, but once you do it's there, a touch on your sleeve or a whisper to catch your attention. When you search for it you can't see it, there's no breeze to stir the curtains or the profusion of flowers Gale brings home day after day. You don't smell that dreaded rosewater or taste cloying honey-sweetness on your tongue. It's a sense that goes beyond sense, speaking to the parts of you that lie under your bones and between your nerves--it's something that escapes your words just as you think you've found the ones to describe it. The sense of him wraps around you like a comforting memory, smoothing its unfelt fingers across your unquiet spirit; the happiness you feel, the life that suffuses you, doesn't compel you but invites you just to be.

It's different when you're in bed together, like tonight, when Gale is salting your skin with kisses. Tonight he's all around you, flowing into and filling every part of you like water, Gale himself spilling over at the edges. He's not glowing but you feel alight with him, woven into him, his threads twisting around yours to draw you close. You're not in one of his illusions--the world around you is very real, if hazy and distant, and Gale's body is hungry, solid flesh and bone against yours. The sensation doesn't vanish even when Gale pauses to ask you what's wrong and you realize you're staring at him.

"I can feel you," you say awkwardly.

"I'd hope so," Gale says laughingly, though he notices your uncertainty and sits up, bracing himself back on his haunches. "What is it?"

You explain as best you can, though every word out of your mouth sounds more foolish and inaccurate than the last. You find yourself tangled in a thicket of your own making and are just about to panic your way out of it when Gale says, faintly embarrassed, "Oh. That--that hasn't happened in quite some time. Years."

I'm so sorry, friend, that it's taken me so long to reply to your once again beautiful piece. I feel like my writing is pretty awful at the moment so I do apologise. I just wanted to get it out though (despite being in a weird creative space and putting off writing a little bit!)

Thank you so much, as always, for your exquisite work <3 ---

You do not need to ask. There is an intuition that exists between you, so that you often know his intentions before he speaks, and he senses your desire before you tell him. You know that part of this comes from the joining of your souls, sealed by your love. But you suspect the other part comes from something altogether different, that sensation that you cannot yet name.

“Admittedly, it wasn’t as innocuous as what you’ve described, back then.”

He pulls you closer, as if he needs your skin on his, even though you feel his being like a flame inside you.

“By all accounts, there was more force to it. It was more of an explosion, if you would.”

You arch an eyebrow. He flashes you that languid half smirk that drives you wild. You wonder if he feels your arousal as his own, like two rivers flowing into each other. He watches you with dancing eyes, savouring your reaction.

“Not that kind of explosion.”

You laugh a little. His lips are smooth and warm as they graze the tips of your fingers. For a while, you fumble for words to explain, ever grateful for his patience.

“It feels like a spell,” you manage eventually. “Even when you’re not casting. Like I’m floating in the Weave, except that you’re the Weave. You’re all around me, inside me, everywhere.”

He gazes at you, fingering this chin absently. And then he nods. There is a kind of solemnity in the gesture, the slight gathering of Gale’s brow. You wonder how long Gale has hidden this part of his nature, or shied away from examining it too closely.

“When I was a child, I learned to control it. But with you…”

He buries his head into the crook of your neck, the heat of his sigh blazing like your pulse. There is a force to it, then, an ache to his longing. You feel it like a flood.

“I want all of you,” he rasps. “And I want to give you all of me. Perhaps that’s why.”

Your open mouth finds his, wet and desperate. His breaths are ragged, swirling into yours like a clouds swallowing clouds. He is a warm bath, lapping at every inch of you. You are about to drown yourself in him when he draws back, so abruptly you feel bereft.

“Does it disturb you?”

The wavering in his eyes almost makes you wince. Traces of his uncertainty, the measure against which he still judges himself. You shake your head sharply, immediately.

“No.” You press yourself against him, swelling with tenderness and desire. “The more I find out about you, the more I love you. Nothing could make me love you less.”

He hesitates for a moment. You feel, as well as see, the last of his doubt fading. His smile is a ripple of light through you, a pleasure almost as intense as pain.

“That’s a relief,” he whispers, as his fingers flutter downwards, and his taste becomes your own.

[nostalgiachan]

The Aftermath

Twenty-Third Prompt: What is everyone up to a year after the game?

C/W: Blood, alcohol consumption, mildly NSFW in some parts. Somebody gets naked.

Summary: Vier struggles to remember just what the hell happened at Karlach's Big Birthday Bash. (2237 words)

---

Vier awoke face-down in the grass, the taste of blood and bile fresh in her mouth. Every muscle in her body ached as she struggled simply to push herself up to her knees. Her vision swam, and a searing pain set her head to throbbing. Slowly, her view came into focus, and as she looked down at herself, she reeled as she saw her front absolutely smothered with dried blood. Her pulse began to race as she raised her head, and her eyes were met with a dire sight:

A field littered with bodies. The bodies of those she loved.

Tables had been overturned. Scorch marks carved a path across the field, and the ground was pockmarked from what looked to be explosions. A wild bear lay in a puddle of its own blood, and–

“Wait…a bear?”

Through the haze of pain and confusion, the gears of Vier’s mind falteringly ground into motion. It was a long and arduous moment before the thought finally formed.

“...There are no bears in Dawnshire.”

With a groan, Vier pushed herself onto wobbly legs and stumbled her way towards the prone ursine. The closer she got, the more she could smell something that was certainly not blood - no, it was the unmistakably pungent smell of particularly strong alcohol. Eventually, she grew close enough that she could see the bear wasn’t dead, but merely sleeping in a puddle of…feywine. The bear also had a familiar scar on its face, a gnarly scratch across the left side of its forehead.

The sight of that scar was like pulling out a piece of debris jammed between the cogs, and hazy memories finally began to drift up from the inner workings.

The previous night had been Karlach’s birthday party, the one Vier had been working for so long to put together. Their infernal friend, Hope, had surprised them all by not only transporting Karlach and Wyll to Dawnshire, but gathering up just about every other friend who’d wished to attend. Having portals to almost every major metropolitan area in the Sword Coast conveniently located in the House of Hope certainly had its benefits, it seemed. Even Lae’zel, who Vier absolutely hadn’t expected would be able to pull herself away from the war effort in the Astral Plane, had arrived in person.

Everything had gone off without a hitch, she remembered. She’d had the finest food the local butchers and bakers could prepare, there were beverages for every sort of palate, she’d invited bards from the area to perform. Everyone was enjoying themselves to the fullest, and as dusk gave way to night, it was nearly time for the fireworks to begin.

And that was when Astarion had produced the Decanter of Endless Wine, loaded with feywine.

“...Aw, fuck, that’d do it.”

More and more, the memories flooded back. She’d been the first to partake, and it had been just as Astarion had described it - “sweet as summer berries, with a minxy little kick”. Very lovely, very dangerous, the sort of wine that quietly crept up on you and took you when you least expected it. It did not, however, creep up on the non-elves among them, also as Astarion had described. As Vier found herself pouring a second glass while setting up the fireworks, she wondered if Astarion had actually told anyone what it was they were drinking, considering its potentially deleterious effects.

Given the state of things, Vier had to surmise the answer was “no”.

As far as she could remember, Gale had been the first to fall under the drink’s effects, deciding he wished to engage Rolan in a “contest of illusions”. The tiefling’s siblings, Cal and Lia, had egged their brother on, themselves beginning to slip under the feywine’s influence. There was some shouting and boasting about “the Wizard of Waterdeep” and “the master of Ramazith’s Tower” before the two began to conjure increasingly complicated illusions; an impressive feat for ones so inebriated, to be sure. 

Soon, the dueling wizards were summoning up terrifying beasts, until at last, one of them - Vier could not remember the culprit, but had a sneaking suspicion it was Gale - called upon a projection of an Elder Brain. At that moment, a battle cry sounded out.

“Ghaik! Mha stil’na forjun inyeri!” Lae’zel screamed, apparently so lost to the feywine that she thought the illusion was real. She unsheathed her silver sword and charged, nearly skewering both wizards entirely in her madness. Vaguely, she could remember hearing Astarion and Shadowheart having an absolute blast at the show, both well into their third cups.

While their antics had proved wonderfully entertaining, they’d also distracted Vier from her work. She’d returned her attention to the fireworks, and must have missed the exact moment that she’d lost Jaheira, Minsc, and Halsin to the drink. As she set up the mortars in neat lines, something incredibly hot and incredibly heavy suddenly crashed into her, taking her off her feet entirely.

“Godsdamn, you got me whizbangs and everything!” Karlach cheered as she practically grappled Vier on the ground, rubbing their faces together like an excited puppy. “Aww, you’re the best, Vier!”

Wyll quickly came scrambling up behind her, attempting to untangle the two. “Careful there, hot stuff,” he gently chided her. “Explosives, remember? Don’t want to go setting them off early.”

“Ugh, fine,” she pouted as she finally released Vier from her grip and allowed Wyll to haul her up to her feet. “Oi, where’s Dammon gone off to? Need to bend his ear about some stuff. And maybe get more of that…what’d Gale call it? Aqua vitae?”

“Honestly, I think you might’ve had enough for now,” Wyll laughed as he led her away, though even in the low light on the edge of the party grounds, Vier could see he looked a bit concerned for her. Vier couldn’t help but smile; Karlach was in good hands with him.

From that point, the memories grew vague once more. She’d finished setting up the fireworks; had yet another glass of feywine; at some point, Lae’zel’s war against the illusory Elder Brain came to an end, and thankfully, both Gale and Rolan had kept their heads intact; there was something about Lae’zel using Shadowheart’s lap as a pillow.

Of course, her recollection grew sharper once more when Astarion appeared. He’d fallen atop her almost as hard as Karlach had, though he’d notably been stone sober. As he wrapped his arms about her from behind, he purred directly into her ear, “Darling, I think I’ve waited just about long enough. Everyone’s good and drunk now, so I’d like to get good and drunk now, if you wouldn’t mind.”

A flush quickly crept across Vier’s skin as Astarion breathed into her ear. “Wait, you want to do that here? Just out in the open?”

“Well, we could sneak off into the bush if you require some privacy,” he said with a smirk, “but I think everyone else is too preoccupied to pay attention to us. We can try that little trick like last time.”

The way Vier’s vision had just begun to tilt spoke that perhaps she shouldn’t attempt “that little trick”, but her inhibition had grown just loose enough that she’d make the attempt anyway. Nervously, she offered her throat to him. “Alright, just…try to be quiet about it, yeah?”

“Oh, if anyone here’s in danger of making noise, darling, it’s you,” Astarion whispered dangerously into her ear before he sank his fangs directly into her neck. The familiar sensation of bliss coursed through her veins as surely as her blood left them, the sound of his greedy swallowing the only noise between the two of them. She bit down hard on her lower lip as he drew more and more from her. The moment the telltale dizziness set in, she raised a hand to restore herself, and she could almost feel her blood regenerating.

Astarion gripped Vier’s head to hold her steady as they entered the second round. The more he drank, the tighter he held onto her, seemingly desperate not to miss a drop. But as he lost himself in the feeding, he began to grow messy. By the second restoration, Vier’s blood was beginning to pool around Astarion’s lips; soon, it trickled, then ran in great rivulets down her neck, staining the front of her blouse a deep crimson. 

Between the blood loss and the undeniable pleasure of feeding, it was getting harder for either of them to keep quiet. At the third and final restoration, Astarion finally released his hold on Vier, unsheathing himself from her throat with a deep, satisfied moan.

“Gods, it’s like I can taste the sunlight in your veins,” he exalted, “or maybe that’s just the wine.”

As soon as the words left his lips, he seemed to have a moment of revelation.

“Oh. Oh, shit. That might be a problem. Darling, how much have you had to drink again?”

As soon as the world stood still for a second, Vier got to thinking. “I think I’m on, er…four glasses? Why? What’s wrong?”

“Well, there’s a certain old vampire wives’ tale that says if you feed on the inebriated, you’ll pick up their inebriation. So I might wind up just a bit drunker than drunk.” But he waved away the concern with a flourish of his arms. “But I’m sure it’ll be fine! Probably not as bad as it might be if you weren’t a drow. Maybe. Most likely.”

With a bow, he said, “Well, my sweet, I’m off to harass the birthday girl some more while I wait for all this boozed-up blood to kick in. Try not to blow yourself up!”

As soon as Astarion sauntered away, Vier noticed a growing clarity washing over her. She’d restored herself to complete sobriety. Well, she thought, that won’t do at all.

Present Vier was deeply, deeply disappointed in Past Vier’s decision making, as she’d decided to hit the feywine even harder the second time around, making everything after that point an almost total blur. She remembered watching Karlach receive her present, a fantastic new set of infernal iron armor hand-crafted by Dammon. She’d gone to start launching the fireworks, but Karlach had asked if she could do the honors. With a flick of her thumb, she lit the first mortar, and that had been when all the hells had broken loose.

Through some freak accident, the tube tilted and the firework launched sideways, exploding into another of the mortars and starting off a chain reaction. Fireworks launched in every which direction. There were screams in about every language spoken on the face of Toril. Karlach had howled with mad laughter and started picking up some of the mortars and actively aiming them around, starting a firework war as drunken combatants picked up armaments of their own, or even magically conjured projectiles. Tables were flipped for cover. Half the party-goers, and more than a few fighters, had fled for the trees.

She could vaguely remember huddling for shelter behind a crate with Astarion, who had given her a quick, but deep, kiss - his mouth still thick with the taste of her blood - before he dove into the fold, eager for action. After that, all was darkness.

Well, there was nothing to do now, she supposed, but take stock of where everyone ended up. Most had simply fallen asleep in the open field, either alone or in small piles of closest friends and family. A few remained tucked into the trees - Jaheira and Minsc, notably, had remained absolutely sober and looked rather comfortable in a series of vine hammocks Jaheira had conjured up. Astarion, at some point of the evening, had been stuffed into an empty crate; for his own safety, Vier left him inside, as the sun had already cleared the treeline.

Soon, all had been accounted for; all, save for Karlach and Wyll. Vier hoped that they hadn’t already returned to the House of Hope, especially without saying goodbye. The longer she searched, the more she began to feel a bit guilty for all of the drunken shenanigans. Karlach certainly seemed like she’d had fun, which was all Vier had wanted, but she’d also hoped she’d have a nice, relaxing night away from Avernus, not violence and explosions.

But as soon as she stumbled upon the pair, she knew her fears had been unfounded.

The first sign she found of their continued presence on this plane was a discarded pair of boots - clearly Wyll’s. She followed the trail of cast-off shoes, shirts, pants through the woods until at last, she found Wyll and Karlach, stark naked and tangled up in one another, blissfully sleeping in the dappled sunlight beneath a tree. She didn’t want to stare overlong, but damn it, there was just something beautiful about the scene.

Had they been able to have a moment like that together in Avernus? Just the two of them, finally indulging their feelings for one another? Or did the endless onslaught of demons offer them little time for such luxuries? While it was a selfish thought, Vier hoped that last night had given them the chance to get out everything they needed to. In any case, she was deeply happy for them, and while she knew Karlach and Wyll would need to return to the hells quite soon, she wasn’t going to wake them up from that well-earned dream just yet.

[distracteddivination]

My Most Intrepid Seeker of Wonders & Dearest Love,

        Tonight, the quill feels weighty in my hand, the inkwell a somber pool reflecting only the dim glow of my lamp. These hallowed halls feel peculiar… desolate without the echo of your laughter dancing within its walls. Though I assure you – the whispers of your voice still linger. They cling to the dusty shelves and worn tapestries like promises of warmth and laughter that are soon to be replenished on your return.

It's already been a fortnight, or perhaps a touch more, since you set off on your grand adventure. Time itself seems to drag without your presence. Lectures on illusory techniques have become a touch more… wearisome without the anticipation of returning home to your embrace - and a good book. Of course...

Do you remember, my love, the night before you left? The way your eyes shone with that restless spirit that stole my heart – oh – so long ago? Truthfully, I suspected even then that a tranquil life within my tower here in Waterdeep would never fully quench your thirst for exploration – and how could I deny you that?

And so, I did the only thing my heart would allow – I kissed you with a tenderness I didn't know I possessed, wished you safe travels, and fought back doubts that threatened to crack my handsome, yet resolute, facade.

The memory of that kiss, my love...it haunts me still. A flash of your smile as you leaned in, the brush of your fingertips against my cheek, the whispered pledge of a safe return upon your breath. It's a warmth that lingers long after I've concluded teaching or retreated to my chambers for the night. In moments of quiet solitude, when the stars themselves whisper tales of forgotten lore into my mind, your image seizes my thoughts.

The curve of your neck, that mischievous glint in your eye, the way your touch ignites something primal and potent within me... they kindle fantasies that leave me breathless and aching. 

Forgive me, my love, but these stolen moments have not been entirely...scholarly - I’m afraid. Even now, my hand trembles, yearning to trace the familiar lines of your sumptuous body. There's an undeniable yearning that builds with each passing day, a hunger that only you can satiate. 

Tell me, do your thoughts wander to me the same? Do you find respite and release in these memories as well? …dreaming of my hands upon you, my whispers against your skin, the spark that flares between us, burning into a consuming blaze of shared desire?

Dearest, it seems my heart, foolish thing that it is, refuses to heed the counsel of reason. Send word the moment you reach the next landmark. Describe your location – every detail, every bend of the path. This yearning grows unbearable… and slightly pathetic, if I'm being honest. I will use every resource, every ounce of power I possess, to bridge the distance between us. Just wait for me, my love... I'm coming for you.

Yours eternally,

Gale Dekarios

To get your own personalized letter from Gale visit: https://distracteddivination.etsy.com

[the0verboss]

I can't believe the first piece of ficlet I'm gonna write for this is fricken Sad Gale Hours. I keep debating continuing this narrative from other companions view points

Gale POV angst/abandonment, Major character death(not Gale)

Gale/ Cleric Male!Gith Tav (it's Iss'tav'in let's be real but he's not named or described for the most part)

✨☀️���🌙✨

His beloved leaves their home in Waterdeep so soon after they return from Wither’s party Gale can hardly mount a defense against it. He wonders if he should have expected this, if he’d missed signs of this on coming meteor amidst the revelry. When his mind cycles through the memory, it seems obvious. He and the others had sat around the table eating and feasting, Wyll and Astarion taking turns telling grand adventure stories while Shadowheart and Karlach heckled them. Gale’s darling husband had spent the night tucked away in a corner with Lae’zel after making the rounds. Gale hadn’t wanted to begrudge his githyanki love a chance to catch up with his kin, to hear how the war against Vlaakith was faring, to speak in his mother tongue with what might amount to his sister.

He is certainly begrudging him now.

They fight. Gale tries to argue from a logical stance at first. They have a life that requires they be present, responsibilities to the Academy and to the the Spires. His mother expects them both to be in attendance at her next soiree, newlyweds that they are. Gale’s continued research on the orb, dormant as it is, requires his attention. Surely they can take some time to prepare for a voyage of this magnitude.

He runs out of gentle patience quickly in light of his husband’s pre-arranged plans. The man has taken leave from the temple for now, and of course he doesn’t expect Gale to join him. Someone must stay and care for Xan.

It feels utterly patronizing and for the first time, since they shared a night in a conjured bed under false stars, Gale thinks back on his time with Mystra. The feeling is sickenly familiar. He thinks of his mother, her place in the Dekarios clan, noble as it is, but alone. He thinks how everyone always says he favors her, in looks and demeanor.

They do have a child he reminds his love, righteous and growing furious. Xan needs a good githyanki role model. He's still so young, and Gale has only a passable knowledge of tir’su.

And when even this pleading falls of deaf ears, then, there is anger.

He rages, throws things, yells, says things that he knows he'll regret later. While his husband continues to pack the last of his travel bag Gale can feel his composure unravel. It feels ugly. Worse than that even, he feels volatile,a yawning chasm where his breaking heart resides. Dark, desolate and afraid.

“Gale, I love you, but I'm going, my people need me. Lae'zel would not ask lightly.”

“You can't just abandon your family on a lark!”

But he does. The last Gale sees of him is a cape draped back, glowing Blood of Lathander in one hand, shimmering gold helmet tucked under the other. Then he's gone.

They don’t kiss good bye, though Gale imagines that would be difficult with the way he was snarling.

Gale stands in the open door of their, no, not theirs, not anymore. He stands in the door of his tower long after the love of his life has gone. Fists clenched, eyes wet, but silent save for the occasional sniffle. The sea is quiet, he can hear no gulls as the sun begins to dip beneath the waves.

He doesn’t hear the baby crying til Tara comes through her cat flap of displacement and bites him on the hand.

“Mister Dekarios, Gale, what's happened?”

“He left. He just….left us.”

“Well, I never…is he coming back?”

As Gale cradles the small githyanki baby in his arms, rocking and trying to soothe him, he chokes on the answer.

Yes. No. I don't know. He says he is.

The orb feels hungry again for the first time since they defeated the brain. But if his heart feels broken and consumed as he stands in his tower clutching the small body of his son then, it's nothing to what he feels months later.

It's nothing compared to the unexpected agony of seeing Lae’zel standing, blood drenched and solemn, on his balcony. She’s alone, a shroud wrapped bundle under one arm, glowing with divine light. Under the other a familiar shimmering gold helmet.

[weaveandwood]

Weave and Woods Chapter 13: Heartless

Gale/Named Tav | Slow Burn | Angst | Read on AO3 | Entire Work

Summary:

Auroria deals with the realities of the Shadow Cursed Lands, pushing everyone away in the meantime.

She stared at the tear in the rug again, remaining silent. She had never seen him so upset with her. Her breathing picked up, shallow breaths coming in rapid succession yet she couldn’t get enough air. She felt like she was at a fork in the road. Should she meet his anger with her own, or should she fight and try to reclaim the small portion of her soul that wasn’t weighed down by guilt and grief? She looked back up at him just in time to see him nod and start to walk out of her tent flap.

AN: Canon-typical violence described, suggestive sexual language

“Let go of me!” Auroria screamed as she felt arms wrap around her waist. She shrugged them off and kept stabbing. 

And stabbing. And stabbing. 

“Ora he’s dead! Please!” She heard the desperate pleas from Gale, but ignored them. 

This man was a Thorm. He was responsible. 

She stabbed again, screaming as the blade pierced the flesh of the overgrown barkeeper over and over and over, blood coating the knife, her hands, her armor. 

Arms wrapped around her waist again. 

“I said let go!” she yelled, raising her dagger to plunge it into the corpse yet again, but these arms were stronger, not the same ones as before - she couldn’t shrug them off as easily as she had with the wizard. Karlach gave a good tug and yanked her off the body, practically tossing her halfway across the room, her dagger knocked out of her hand as she came to a halt. She reached for the blade, only for Astarion to place his boot on top of it, blocking her. 

She panted, her chest rising and falling heavily as she glared at each of her companions. Did they not feel the same rage she did? Were they only so concerned about their own lives that what they saw in these lands did not affect them? The corpses, the skeletons, the death everywhere?

They were selfish. 

She stood up, glancing at Astarion, still standing on her dagger. “Keep it,” she said coldly before marching out of the tavern, if you could still even call it that, and back on the path toward the mausoleum. 

******

Gale watched Auroria storm out of the tavern and furrowed his brow. Despite all of her reassurances, she was clearly still affected by what they saw on their way to Moonrise Towers the previous day - all of the tiefling refugees, murdered. He had spoken with Jaheira when they returned and she dispatched a group of Harpers to bury the poor victims, hoping that would bring Ora some peace. After the events just now, he could see that his actions were unsuccessful. He had never seen her like that, and could see his concern mirrored on their friends’ faces. 

“I’ve never seen Ora go completely mad like that,” Karlach whispered, breaking the silence. “It was a little frightening.”

Astarion bent down to pick up the dagger, investigating the dark, sticky blood that now coated the blade before making a disgusted face. He toed the corpse of Thisobald Thorm. “Well I for one was inspired. She should mutilate corpses more often,” he smiled, his words downplaying the worry that was showing at the corners of his eyes. 

Gale felt the sting of tears but blinked them away and cleared his throat. “Yes, well. We should probably catch up to her, I’m not sure she should be left alone at the moment.”

They left the tavern and started to walk the path toward where the mausoleum should be. The faint sound of muttering met their ears as they neared the end of the building. It had to be Ora. Gale looked at Astarion to ask if he and Karlach wouldn’t mind waiting, but Astarion beat him to it. 

“Go check on her, but don’t take long. I’m ready to get this over with,” Astarion said with an air of boredom before going with Karlach to the monument at the center of the road, tossing Ora’s dagger in the air and catching it by the handle as he walked. Rogues . 

Gale turned the corner of the building and saw her leaning against the wall, looking at her hands that were now shaking and coated in drying blood. He tentatively stepped forward, trying his best to be careful and quiet so as not to disturb her. A twig snapped under his foot, causing her to jolt and look right at him before quickly looking away. He sighed. Every time - where are all these twigs coming from? She attempted to wipe tears away with a relatively clean section of the back of her arm, still managing to smear blood across her beautiful face, the remnants of her savagery from earlier at odds with her bright features. He stepped closer to her, still giving her plenty of space.

“What do you want, Gale?” she asked, her voice flat. 

“I came to check on you - we heard you from the road. Are you…alright, my love?” He asked softly. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, comfort her, tell her everything was going to be okay. 

“I’m fine. Great. Wonderful,” she muttered sarcastically. “I think the blood all over my body speaks for itself.” She used the toe of her boot to kick around some dust, exhaling loudly. “This place is all death and dust. I never thought I’d say I’d rather go back to the goblin camp or the Grymforge.” 

She squinted, looking at the color of the grey sky, though it was of no use - the sky never changed as the day passed. “We should go, we’re wasting time here,” she said as she pushed off the wall of the building. He followed as she met up with Astarion and Karlach with a quick nod before leading them on their way.

They walked for a time in silence, Gale watching Ora from the rear of the party, noticing her take in every skeleton, every reminder that Reithwin wasn’t always ruined. He saw her hands clench the closer they got to the Thorm mausoleum and the amount of skeletons increased exponentially.

A familiar face appeared as they got close to the entrance of the mausoleum - Raphael. Astarion rushed to the front of the group, eager to make a deal with him - they would kill his old enemy in exchange for Raphael translating the infernal scars on Astarion’s back. While Ora agreed to it, it was another delay to the mission at hand, another delay to finding the Absolute, another delay in freeing this land of the Shadow Curse. For Gale, it was another delay to speaking with Ora, to see how he could help unburden her before the darkness of these Shadow Cursed Lands took root in her heart - her bright heart that was closer to sunshine than anything he had felt in a long time. That heart that warmed him, that made him want to live, and made him want to forsake Mystra. He wasn’t sure everything would be fine, really. But he would try his best to make it that way. For her. 

******

Yurgir was dead and the party was exhausted. Yurgir was dead and they were no closer to finding the relic Ketheric Thorm so desperately needed. Yurgir was dead and they’d make no further progress today.

She crouched down, her head in her hands, staring at a small tear on the rug she used to cover the dirty ground when she heard a throat clear outside her tent. She ignored it.

What had her mother always reminded her to do when she got frustrated? Focus on the positives, even if the day didn’t go your way. Yurgir was dead and Astarion was closer to finding out what the scars on his back meant. Yurgir was dead and that cleared out a wing of the mausoleum. Yurgir was dead and the rest of the party was on their way to meet them at their makeshift campsite now that the area in the western wing was secure. 

It felt empty. Hollow. Just like she felt without rage burning inside her. She traced the weaving on the rug with her eyes, following the threads over the warp and weft as it created patterns, hoping she’d reach an epiphany about something. Anything. 

“Ora? May I enter?” Gale. He sounded so tentative, so unlike him. She didn’t answer. He entered anyway. “What is it about the rug that has you so utterly fascinated?” She could hear the forced jovial tone in his voice, trying to lighten her mood as he sat next to her. She jumped as she felt his hand gingerly touch her back. He pulled it away instantly. Did the tent feel colder? Usually Gale’s presence brought warmth and light to her tent. 

Minutes passed in silence. Ora kept staring at the rug. Her mind raced, jumping from thought to thought, scenario to scenario - all with bad outcomes, more death, more loss, more guilt. 

“Talk to me. Please,” Gale finally whispered as he looked at her. 

“What do you want me to say?” She replied, her own voice still as flat as before as she continued her study of the rug. 

“Anything!” He raised his voice slightly.  “Tell me what you’re thinking about, tell me what is bothering you! I can’t help you if you’re silent - we’ve been through this before. We promised to talk to each other, no matter what.”

She nodded. He was right. She had laid into him when he had avoided her for five days, she couldn’t do the same.

“Is this still about the tieflings?” 

She saw red as her head snapped to look at him. 

“ Still ? Gale, we saw them less than a day ago. Yes, it’s still about the tieflings! How can you move on so quickly from people we knew being murdered senselessly? Helpless people being slaughtered looking for safety, laying out there exposed, dead, forgotten while we were celebrating , while we carried on as if everything was normal, while we blissfully spent the night together. Does it not impact you? Do you not feel endless guilt?” 

“Of course it does! You truly think me so heartless? After everything? After the other night?” His voice was hurt, incredulous at the suggestion.

She paused. The hesitation spoke volumes. “I -”

“No, I think you’ve made yourself quite clear.” He nodded, standing up. “I don’t know if the Shadow Curse is starting to get to you, but you are losing yourself here, Ora. I thought you were being fierce and brave, but something is changing in you, and not for the better. Surely you’ve seen death and destruction before, you were a High Forest Scout for crying out loud!” 

She stared at the tear in the rug again, remaining silent. She had never seen him so upset with her. Her breathing picked up, shallow breaths coming in rapid succession yet she couldn’t get enough air. She felt like she was at a fork in the road. Should she meet his anger with her own, or should she fight and try to reclaim the small portion of her soul that wasn’t weighed down by guilt and grief? She looked back up at him just in time to see him nod and start to walk out of her tent flap. 

“Well, this has been enlightening. Have a good night Or-”

“Wait. Please,” she said, her voice starting to waver. “Don’t go. I…” she trailed off, unsure how to articulate her thoughts.

He paused, and she saw his shoulders drop. “You what?” He asked, not turning to face her. 

She bit her lip. “I…I can’t get the death and desolation out of my head. Arabella’s parents. The dead tieflings. All the notes between lovers we’ve found next to corpses. All of the skeletons we’ve seen, just laying out in the open, forgotten, with nothing to remember them by.” She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “The barren landscape, the lack of life…it’s affecting me but not as much as this guilt I feel so deeply inside me. This pressure I feel to make sure we do this right. The endless strategies and scenarios I run through my head morning and night, trying to figure out how we come out of this alive.”

She saw the briefest flash in his eyes as he turned to face her, knowing instantly what he was thinking. The orb. 

“How all of us come out of this alive,” she clarified, unwilling to even entertain the idea. “And yes, I have seen death and destruction before, but not on this grand, organized scale. Gale, this land has been cursed for one hundred years. One hundred years and no one has been able to cure this land, and yet we’re supposed to lift the curse and take down the Absolute?” She laughed a cold, humorless laugh. 

“How can we do all this? We are a vampire spawn, a cleric with memory issues who’s own goddess tortures her, a tiefling with a heart that could give out at any time, a son of a Duke in a pact with a cambion, a githyanki soldier going through her own crisis of belief, a wizard who, while talented, tends to lean towards self sacrifice, and a ranger with no gift for magic. Every plan I’ve made, each strategy I’ve devised has had to weigh who will die. Who is unimportant enough to die. Have you ever had to make that choice?”

Gale stepped back into the tent, sitting across from her. “I have not.”

“It chips away at you each time, slowly taking the best parts of you. Soon I will have no heart left at the rate this is going. Seeing those tieflings murdered broke me, Gale. It took all this pressure that has been building in me since the day the nautiloid crashed to its boiling point. I can’t see our way out of this. I can’t see anything besides rage, guilt, my inadequacies, and the desire to give in to the whispers the tadpole is sending me to utilize its power since I have barely any of my own. I must admit, it gets more and more tempting as each hour passes.”

He reached out and grabbed her hand, lacing his warm fingers through hers. “Ora, do you even hear yourself? You say you won’t have a heart, yet all you’ve demonstrated is exactly how big yours is. Each plan, each strategy you’ve implemented - it’s shown us all what it is we’re fighting for. Yes, we each have our own personal reasons for fighting, but we also see the bigger picture. I see the bigger picture, and it’s only because you’ve shown it to me. I know every decision you make has been weighed heavily by you and I trust you. Wholeheartedly” 

“How can you have so much faith in me? How can you love me when I can’t hold a candle to your powers? I can’t even conjure beginner level spells without difficulty and hours of agonizing work, and you have to train me like a child,” she whispered, staring at their joined hands like this act of care was an anchor holding her to herself, holding her to him. 

“You say you have no power, but you have never been more wrong. Your love for those who cannot help themselves, for this world we are in...it’s part of the reason I fell in love with you. That is your power, Ora. You make people believe in good. In the impossible. You made me believe I would live through this, Ora, the most impossible belief of them all.  It’s the reason I refuse to give up on you, and refuse to let you go down this spiraling path of guilt and insecurity. Believe me, I’ve been there,” he said as he lifted their hands, placing a kiss onto her knuckles. “I am here to pull you back, as I promised.” 

“How?” She whispered, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips gently against hers. She felt the darkness in her recoil - of course he would be so arrogant to think that his kiss would cure her, would rid her of her turmoil. The tadpole whispered to push him away, he could not help her, only it could. It could help her take down any obstacle as long as she listened to it. The darkness within her clung to that. A surefire way to save everyone.

She brought her hands to his chest, aiming to push him away, to break contact, but a small voice inside her whispered, a flicker of warmth on the edge of her consciousness that gave her pause. No. It was a surefire way to save everyone but lose herself. The tadpole lied. It only craved power. 

The darkness shouted back, spilling into her consciousness like an inky, oily wave. The only way to get through this was power. The only way to get power was the tadpole. It wouldn’t be difficult to find others to ingest surrounded by so many True Souls. This was the only way. 

Gale’s hands settled on top of hers. Another anchor connecting them together. 

The small voice got louder. A brightness began to glow within her, chipping away ever so slightly at the darkness. Here was a man who loved her, desperately trying to save her just as she was desperately trying to save them all. Cling to him, cling to his hope. Let him love you as you love him.

Visions within her mind warred for dominance. Skeletons. Grass and flowers. A letter to a loved one, splattered in blood. Warm sunshine on a cloudless day. The murdered tieflings. Gale lovingly placing individual stars in the sky for her. 

Her hands clutched at his shirt. Rather than pushing him away, she pulled him to her, parting her lips for him as he kissed her deeply. She would listen to the small voice, the part of her that still believed they could do this. They could beat the Absolute. They could end the Shadow Curse. They would save as many people as they could, and mourn deeply for the ones they couldn’t when everything was over. 

The darkness within her was still there, clawing at the light, desperate to take over once more. Maybe it would. Maybe she would never be free of it, and the unyielding agony and bright hope within her would ebb and flow like the tides on the beaches she used to train near with her mother. 

As Gale kissed her neck, whispering “I love you, please come back to me” in her ear, Auroria knew she would cling to this feeling as tightly as she could. 

As they both undressed and she climbed into his lap, lowering herself slowly onto him as he held onto her tightly and slowly thrust into her as she rocked against him, she knew he would keep his promise to pull her out of the darkness every time. 

As they both cried out softly with their releases, she knew she was not alone. She would never be alone. It was not all on her to carry.

He smiled as he looked into her eyes, recognizing something returning in them that had faded out. “There you are, my love,” he whispered.

“Here I am. You brought me back,” she whispered and looked into his warm brown eyes as relief washed over his face. “I love you. I’m sorry,” she said as she closed her eyes, pressing her forehead to his, a hand on his cheek. 

The brightness within her was shining strongly now, bolstering her for the days that lay ahead. 

She had hope again. 

[mumms-the-word]

In Fathoms Below - Ch. 10

Ch. 10 - Mythallars

Characters: Gale, Karlach, Wyll, Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Astarion, Halsin, Minthara, Gortash + other OCs; pairing is Gale x fem!Tav Plot: The island city of Nautera disappeared over 4500 years ago, if it ever existed at all. Now not a single, legitimate record of Nautera exists, save for one. The Nauterran Account. Long thought lost, it has recently been retrieved from the depths of Candlekeep’s archives and placed into the capable hands of one Gale Dekarios. With the Nauterran Account in hand and an eclectic team of Baldurians and other allies mounting an official expedition, Gale journeys to find the ruins of Nautera…but hopes to find so much more. A/N: Gale gets to lecture himself and his friends about mythallars. Don't know what that is? Don't worry, Gale's got you covered. DND rules may have gotten a little wibbly wobbly here so if you're a die-hard DND fan don't look too hard lol

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Gale’s study of the Nauterran Account had reached nearly a fever pitch. Nearly every moment he wasn’t actively walking, fighting, or sleeping, he was pouring over the pages of the Account, trying to understand it. When he wasn’t using the Loross half of the Account to chart their path ahead, he was wrapped up in translating the Seldruin and using that knowledge to try and understand who the Nauterrans were, and what they were capable of.

It had gotten to the point where his focused attention on the older part of the journal was, perhaps, his greatest hindrance to deepening any of the relationships he’d begun with the others. While they rested and joked and gathered around shared fires or pitched their tents near one another, he kept to himself, disappearing into his tent to read and reread what he was able to translate up to that point. He’d started an entirely new journal where he had begun writing down the contents in Common, as far as he could, but this too took up his time as he went back to fix conjugations or edit out mistakes. 

There was just so much to try and understand. The journal began with Ioulaum and his apprentices already in Nautera, and the wonders they described there truly seemed like the stuff of legends. Vehicles that flew without the casting of a single spell, aqueducts that connected cities to one another and created and carried fresh water from one to the next, healers capable of restoring a person to perfect health without traditional healing spells. According to the Account, every person in Nautera, the greatest and richest of the cities in the archipelago, had the means to bring clean water directly into their homes, warm their baths, cook their meals, and light their homes at night, all via magical means without a single spell cast. 

The source? The fabled mythallars that were housed in elaborate towers at the center of every city. These enormous crystal spheres created a magic all their own that powered every enchanted item in the cities. Rather than cast a spell to warm a bath, the citizens of this lost civilization could simply activate the magical item that heated the bath, and it would draw on the mythallar’s power to do its task. Nautera had been a world of permanently enchanted items, once upon a time. 

Their basic needs taken care of, art and study had flourished, according to the author of the Account. The city of Nautera had allegedly boasted an impressive library and was home to many artists, poets, dramatists, and musicians. It was the gem of the archipelago, lavishly beautiful, like a tiered paradise of hanging gardens, sculptures, and mosaics. Other cities housed magical workshops and places of study, where the elven high mages attempted to push the limits of magic to greater and greater heights. With the power of the mythallars as part of their study and experimentation, it must have seemed as though no problem was too great, no question unanswerable, so long as there was time to focus on it.

No wonder Ioulaum had taken such inspiration from the Nauterrans and returned home to Netheril to make mythallars of his own. It was he who raised the first cities of Netheril into the sky and kept them in the air with his mythallars. At least, for about 2700 years, until Karsus came along. 

And history had entirely forgotten the Nauterrans’ role in his great invention. Of course it had. Ioulaum would never have admitted to stealing an idea, especially from elves. Better to present it as his own, whole and original.

But where had it all gone wrong? That was the part Gale struggled to understand. The Seldruin half seemed to end on an arbitrary day, only for the Loross to pick up on the next page with vague references to what must have been a cataclysmic event.

It has been over two decades since the once-beautiful islands of the Nauterran people were lost to the waves, the Loross script began. We journey now to see if we can find its remains, to perhaps salvage some of its arcane knowledge, before that, too, is lost to time.

But what was the event that destroyed the islands? An act of a god, another wizard’s folly, or some other event? The author of the account had been so meticulous with his details, why couldn’t he have been bothered to jot down a quick summary of the events that led to the islands’ disappearance?

Gale blew out a frustrated breath as he sat contemplating this problem, once again, for the hundredth time, outside his tent. His plate of fire-roasted mushroom steaks and rice had long since grown cold as it sat, forgotten, just inches away from his knee. 

Karlach passed by with her own plate and glanced over at Gale. “Hey, Gale! I was just on my way for seconds, did you want any?”

“Hm? Oh, no, I—” He glanced over to his plate and realized how much time had gotten away with him. “I’m um…full.”

Karlach cast a dubious look at his plate and then at him. Then she sighed and shook her head. “All right, that’s it. Mama K here doesn’t let her friends go hungry. Give me that plate and follow me. You’re eating with us tonight.”

“Really, you don’t have to—”

“I insist,” she said, already bending down to grab his plate. “Come on, up you go. I swear it’s been days since you last finished off your plate and you deserve to have a proper hot meal surrounded by some friends.”

Friends? Gale didn’t know if he’d go quite so far as that, but it was hard to argue with Karlach. He sighed and closed both Account and his journal of notes, tucking them both under his arm as he got to his feet. Karlach gave him a cheery smile and led the way back to the cooking fire, where she promptly tossed his cold food into the flames and handed both of the now-empty plates to the cook on duty.

“Seconds, please,” she said cheerfully. 

Then it was back the way they came, passing by Gale’s tent, toward a different fire nearby.

“Grab a seat,” Karlach said, handing him his plate. “There’s plenty of rock to go around.”

Wyll, Astarion, Halsin, and Shadowheart were already sitting or lounging near the fire, and Lae’zel was not far off, sharpening her blade with a small whetstone, each stroke along the edge sending out a shower of sparks. Gale settled down cautiously beside Wyll, who gave him a smile as he approached.

“Good to see you off the job, for once,” Wyll said. “Or as ‘off the job’ someone like you can be,” he amended, glancing at the books under Gale’s arm.

“Gods, Gale, do you ever stop studying that thing?” Shadowheart asked. “What’s in there that’s so interesting anyway?”

“Aside from an entire civilization’s lost history?” Gale asked. He shook his head, setting both books on the rock next to him and taking up his fork instead. “The entire thing is fascinating from start to finish. Fascinating and frustrating. There are so many questions left unanswered, entire mysteries that I have yet to fully unravel and understand. It’s like a puzzle box, in a way. Each little door I manage to crack open gives way to more compartments, more locks, more doors with more secrets and forgotten history buried within. It is…well…”

“Maddening?” Astarion offered. He was lying stretched out on his side, ankles crossed, using a dagger to carefully dig out the dirt from beneath his nails.

Gale smiled slightly. “Yes. Among other things.”

“Relax, Gale,” Karlach said, already halfway through her second plate before Gale had even taken two bites. “Gortash doesn’t pay overtime. Take the nights off and have a bit of fun every now and again.”

Gale thought about telling her that he wasn’t getting paid at all—not that he was aware of, anyway. He wasn’t even sure if Elminster had arranged any kind of reward for completing the expedition or if he just expected Gale to return to Waterdeep and try to get back into living a normal life. But he elected not to mention any of that.

“I know I ought to take a break,” he admitted instead. “But there’s simply something…enchanting about all this lost history. These legends made real. Is it not the lure of the legendary that draws the rest you forward? Are you not excited to see what discoveries might be made at the end of our journey? Surely I can’t be alone in this.”

“Sure, if by ‘discoveries’ you mean a wealth of treasure to make this all worthwhile,” Astarion said, shrugging.

Shadowheart rolled her eyes. “No one said you had to come along.”

“No, but I’m here now, darling, and I’d like to at least benefit somehow.”

“I can see a little of what you mean, Gale,” Wyll said, smiling. “To see legends made real, as you said.”

“But that may not be your only reason for being here,” Gale observed. Wyll shrugged, looking a bit apologetic, but didn’t elaborate. Gale glanced around at the others. “No doubt the rumors of ancient mythallars is what interests most of you. Though I’m sorry to say that the likelihood of us finding one intact is negligible, if not impossible.”

“Don’t let Gortash hear you say that,” Karlach said, pointing with her fork. “Pretty sure that's all he’s interested in finding. Though, to be honest, I’m not even sure what a mytha-whatever does.”

“Mythallar,” Gale said, slowing the word down for Karlach’s benefit. “Think of it like…a giant arcane battery.” At her bemused blink, he chuckled and tried again. “Picture a giant crystal sphere, about as wide around as three or four of the carts here. The mythallar draws upon the Weave and bottles it up inside as raw magic. This raw magic can then be used to power…well anything, really, so long as the object is attuned to the mythallar and stays within a certain distance of it. Like the crystals in the rothé constructs, except instead of replenishing the crystals with magic every few days, the crystals would permanently and perpetually feed off the power of the mythallars to keep the constructs going.”

“Sounds useful.”

Gale accepted the reductive statement with another little smile. “If we’re putting it mildly, yes. But alas, all the mythallars in Toril shattered over a thousand years ago.”

All eyes were on him now, curious and interested. Even Lae’zel had paused her weapon sharpening to listen. 

Wyll asked the question they seemed to all be thinking. “What do you mean? What happened?”

Gale smiled somewhat grimly. “Karsus’s Folly.”

He painted the scene as best he could while trying to keep things relatively brief. He told them of Karsus’s ambitions, of Mystryl, the first Mother of Magic, and how the two clashed over control of the Weave. He explained Karsus’s ascent to godhood, how he attempted to steal Mystryl’s power, how all magic in existence seemed to surge, wild and chaotic, in the brief time that Karsus reigned as a god. How Mystryl’s sacrifice ended her own life and obliterated the entire Weave and how, in the resulting void, the mythallars that kept Netheril’s cities aloft failed, and the cities plummeted to the earth below as Karsus turned to stone.

“Wow,” Karlach said softly once his tale was done, looking a little awed. “You’re a really good storyteller, Gale.”

Shadowheart put up a hand. “Hang on, you’re telling me that when all that happened, all magic was just…gone?”

“For a spell,” Gale said, unable to resist a slight smile at his own subtle pun. “Mystryl was quickly reborn as Mystra and the Weave restored under her command. Mystra then banned the use of any spell past a certain level of power after that. She simply won’t allow the Weave to be manipulated to cast them. Unfortunately, the creation of mythallars happens to have been one such powerful spell that we can no longer cast, no matter how powerful the wizard.”

Which meant that even if the Seldruin explained in detail exactly how to create another mythallar, and so far it didn't, it wouldn't matter. Gale would never be able to cast the spell to create it. Not as a mortal wizard, anyway.

“And there’s no way any of the mythallars from Nautera survived?” Wyll asked.

Gale shook his head. “It would be next to impossible. Without the Weave to draw magic from, they would have failed or shattered, as the ones in Netheril did. And that’s assuming they survived whatever catastrophe dragged all the islands below the sea.”

They were all silent a moment, contemplating Gale’s words. He could sense a bit of disappointment in some, though they didn’t seem particularly surprised by the news that there would be no giant crystal to try and take back to the surface.

“My apologies if I ruined anyone’s grand plans,” he said. “I assume that’s what everyone was interested in?”

Karlach shrugged and laid back against the rocky ground, folding her arms behind her head. “Honestly, I just go where I’m told. Big magic rock or no, as long as I get paid, I’m satisfied.”

“I think my father might be a bit disappointed to hear this news,” Wyll said. “But then again, he may not even be that surprised. I’m not sure how much faith he actually had in this expedition turning up any useful items.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of other valuable things you can take back to him,” Shadowheart said, leaning back on one hand. 

“You mean like all the jewels and metals we keep passing up on our way down to these sad old ruins?” Astarion asked, frowning.

She shrugged. “That, or perhaps other things. Information. History.” Gale didn't miss the way her eyes trailed to look at the Account on the ground next to him.

“Is that what you intend to bring back to your Sharran cloister, Shadowheart?” Halsin asked softly, speaking up for the first time. For the entire conversation, he had sat quietly nearby, whittling a dead piece of sussur bark into the shape of a small bear. His expression bore no judgment, only quiet curiosity.

She narrowed her eyes briefly at him before feigning indifference. “There are plenty of things down here that are useful for Lady Shar and her followers, but she doesn’t need to rely on some crystal bauble to accomplish her goals. My Lady is powerful enough on her own.”

Halsin merely pursed his lips, returning his attention to the sussur branch and his knife, silently chopping away at the wood. Gale however, filed this information away to ponder later—it seemed as though the Sharrans, as well as Gortash, Ulder Ravengard, the githyanki, and possibly the druids were all deeply interested in whatever Nautera had to offer, either in terms of power or history. Perhaps he ought not to be surprised.  

“Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. It had begun to ache, the pain drifting down into his shoulders and upper back, all signs he had sat hunched over his books for far too long. “Sorry to disappoint everyone, I suppose.”

“Is your neck bothering you?” Halsin asked, sheathing his knife at his side and putting his carving next to his pack.

“No more than usual. Typical scholar's pain. The dangers of study and all that.”

Halsin's half-smile suggested a shared understanding of such pains. He got to his feet, rounding the campfire to stand behind Gale, leaning around him so that Gale could see him. “May I touch you? I can give you some relief.”

Karlach wolf-whistled and winked before turning to whisper something to Astarion and Shadowheart, who both laughed and nodded. Gale ignored them all and turned to look up at Halsin. The druid's expression spoke of nothing but an open-handed offer of help. And he was the chief healer for the expedition...

“You're welcome to try anything,” he said.

Halsin chuckled. “Perhaps not anything, but this may help.”

He took Gale's head carefully in his hands and guided him to lean his head slowly back, stretching his neck. Gale tried to relax rather than tense up, despite feeling as though all eyes were on him and Halsin. Then, with a sudden, quick lurch, Gale's neck popped with a loud crack that traveled down his spine. Halsin let go of him and Gale sat up, turning his head this way and that, working out a few more tiny pops and crackles.

“Mystra's mercy, Halsin,” Gale groaned slightly, rubbing at his now-pain-free neck and shoulders. “You are good. Where did you learn a trick like that?”

Halsin smiled and sat down beside him. “My old druid mentor, over one hundred years ago. There was no finer healer in the area, back then. He taught me everything I know.”

“Over one hundred years ago?” Gale sat back and studied Halsin a moment, trying to find signs of age in the elf's face. He knew he was well over a century old, easily, but he couldn't tell how old exactly. “Just how old are you? If you don't mind my asking.”

“Three hundred and fifty years young, if you can believe it,” he said, grinning slightly. “I traveled frequently in my youth, so I've seen more than my share of adventure. Though the last one hundred years, I've remained at the Emerald Grove, not far from Baldur's Gate.”

“And you left to join an expedition like this?” Gale asked, as the others fell into their own conversations with each other. Apparently they already knew most of this information about Halsin. “For what reason? The rumors of the mythallars, or something else? How did you even hear of this expedition?”

“An old friend tipped me off that Gortash was gathering people for an undersea voyage to a lost civilization. I believe she gathered this information through her, ah...network in the city. She let it slip that his real aim was for Nautera and hinted that the journey might be valuable for me.” Halsin's pleasant smile turned somewhat grim. “She and I were allied during a...a dark time, over a century ago. She couldn't make the journey, so she offered to volunteer me instead.”

“I see. And what did she think would be so valuable for you?”

Halsin was quiet for a moment. He looked up at the dark ceiling of the cavern that loomed hundreds of feet above them. “Hmm...I'm not sure what she thought, exactly. But I've already found something I think could be valuable.”

“And what is that?”

“The Seldruin,” he said, lowering his gaze back to Gale. “The old elven language of magic.”

Gale blinked. “You’re interested in Seldruin?”

“I am interested in Elven High Magic. Or…what little of it can be replicated in this age.” He shifted so that he was facing Gale more directly. “In truth, I've been meaning to ask this of you for some time now. Is it possible you can teach the Seldruin to me?”

Gale winced. Of all the conversations he thought he would be having at that moment, this was not one of them. He hated to disappoint anyone, but this was a not-insignificant request that Halsin was asking.

“I can certainly try to teach you to read and perhaps speak the language, but I cannot teach you Elven High Magic, if that is what you're really hoping to learn. That art, I'm afraid, has been lost for centuries, and much of it is...well...let's just say that Mystra has deemed much of it too powerful. You may find that any Elven High Magic ritual you attempt to cast simply won’t work.” 

From what Gale knew, after years of study and his own conversations with Mystra, Elven High Magic consisted of rituals that were nearly all above the threshold that Mystra had created after Karsus's Folly. Between Mystra’s current rules on spellcasting and her ongoing relationships with the elven pantheon, Elven High Magic wasn’t just a lost art—it was nigh on impossible to cast. Unless, of course, you were a god, or someone as equally powerful, and neither Gale nor Halsin were either of those things.

Gale tilted his head, curious now. “Can I ask why you’re interested in Elven High Magic?”

Halsin was silent again, clearly weighing his words. But then he sighed. “I see no reason why I should keep it a secret from you, especially if you are to help me. I am hoping that by learning Seldruin, I can at last undo a tragedy that has tormented me for some time now.” He took a deep breath. “There is a curse that plagues a land near my druid grove. It causes nothing but darkness and death in that land—nothing can survive there, not even a torch flame, and anything that dies there is resurrected by foul, necrotic magic. The darkness has yet to spread, and it might even be contained, but…a friend of mine dwells there. If I can do nothing else, I at least hope to save him.”

“A friend?”

“A spirit of the land. He’s been trapped there for over a century. Each day my hope of saving him dwindles, but I must keep trying. I must.”

Realization dawned on Gale instantly. “So that’s why you’re here. To see if the Nauterrans have anything you can use.”

Halsin nodded. “Yes. And even if they do not…perhaps learning a little Seldruin from you will be enough to make some headway or generate a new idea.”

“Even though you cannot cast magic with it?"

“Yes. Despite everything, I would like to learn it. And you are the only one who knows it. So,” he tilted his head, offering Gale a small smile. “Will you teach it to me?”

Gale wasn’t sure how helpful it would be for Halsin to learn Seldruin. He suspected that it would do very little to alter the curse that Halsin was so desperately seeking to end, but Halsin's gaze on him was unwavering and earnest. It was hard to say no to him.

And perhaps it wasn't a bad idea to teach him. At the very least, if he taught Halsin the Seldruin, he’d have a kindred spirit who could help him unravel the mysteries in the Account. Two heads were better than one, after all. The thought made up Gale’s mind immediately.

“Very well," he said. "But you must give me time to figure out how to teach it. We'll need to figure out a baseline, a foundation you can use to build your knowledge of Seldruin. Perhaps in a day or two I will have discovered a way to—”

A sudden shout rang out over the camp, followed by strange, jabbering laughter. All heads turned, all of them on high alert, just in time to see a scaly, one-eyed creature pop its head up over one of the tents, grinning at them with a wide, lipless mouth full of glistening teeth. It focused its large green eye on them, its pupil constricting rapidly, and then with a chittering laugh it disappeared again, rummaging through the tent.

“Ugh,” Karlach groaned, as Gale sighed and casually cast a quick magic missile spell to drive the creature out of the tent and back into the open. “The nothics are back. Will they give it a rest already?”

“On your feet, soldier,” Wyll said, already up and grabbing his rapier. “The faster we clear them out, the faster we can all get some shut-eye.”

[wretcheddthing]

Hiiiii fox I wanna think about gale&venali being cute. Could you tell me about one or more of the dates they've been on please

hiiiii!!! i hope ur having fun!! i am more than happy to oblige they're on my mind forever

wanna hear about their first kiss? bc i've been thinking about it a lot recently (hi it's fox from after i typed this sentence, ooohhh my god it's so long hope u enjoy a good ramble)

a quick thing first. i am stealing chunks of this from a fic my bestie friend @pricemarshfield is writing for them (hi i love you), only changed a bit to fit the canon in my brain (not that u didn't capture the vibes immaculately and do them complete justice, my dear bestie if ur reading this. that's why i'm canonizing part of ur fic. but brains, you understand)

and now for the not-so-quick part

I know you know about it already, but it's still important to me to impress just how much Ven resents her magic and its obtaining. The way I see it, her magic is constantly generating until it needs to be expelled. It demands to be used under threat of anything from personal discomfort to active harm (surge depending). Most of the time, it's like a background buzzing under her skin. Using it often, be it with cantrips or just regular spell use, helps dampen the physical effect of the surges, but doesn't stop them completely. The longer she goes without casting a spell (generally a matter of days rather than hours), the stronger and more severe the surge when it comes.

I also like the idea that, as a charisma caster, her magic is in some way tied to her emotions. Anything she feels Too Strongly has a chance of triggering a surge. A lesser chance than if she were just casting a spell, but a threat nonetheless. This really sucked at first until she started making a conscious effort to be more patient and forgiving. Queen of emotional suppression, if you think about it. She doesn't.

Anyway, I say all this as context for why the sussur flower affects her so strongly

For those out of the loop, the sussur tree is a tree found in the Underdark that is nourished by the faerzress (faerzress is like a magical radiation that stuck around from the magic that formed the Underdark in the first place). Because they feed almost exclusively on magic, they can generate anti-magic fields. In BG3, it's the sussur bloom that generates the anti-magic field. When you stand near it, magic is described as freely leaving you and safely being held in the flower. To Venali, it's the first time her skin felt quiet in Seven Years.

She first experienced it in the Dread Hollow, but couldn't really relish in the feeling, what with all the mission-doing and monster fighting. She later made note of the sussur sapling in Lenore's garden behind the Arcane Tower (I've got some thoughts about Lenore de Hurst as well, but this is already gonna be SO long).

Truly, she could not stop thinking about the relief the sussur bloom brought her. She was distracted the rest of the day and was restless at camp. She endured dinner to the best of her ability, and eventually made her excuses to leave camp for a bit. To "clear her head." She promised not to stray far, but she had no intention of upholding that. She cut a direct path back to Lenore's tower and tore her way down to the garden, cautiously kneeling in front of a bright bloom in the gloom of the Sussur sapling. She just wanted to relish in the feeling of being magic-free, take in the honey-sweet scent of the flower. It would have been unsettling to experience such a drastic change in her body if it weren't so relieving. She wanted to cry, because for once it felt like she could. The tears didn't come easily, if at all. She was out of practice.

Fortunately (or not, as Venali saw it at first), Gale wasn't too far behind. He knew something was off with her ever since the Dread Hollow and all through their time in the tower earlier that day. He kept a close eye on her at dinner and knew exactly where she planned to go the moment she left camp, nervous though he was about following her. The Underdark is a dangerous place, and to venture out alone without proper preparations was bordering on madness.

He was neither upset with her nor disappointed as she feared. He was, however, concerned, and that's the tone with which he spoke. It was enough to finally get through to Ven, and the tears freely flowed for the first time in many years. Gale was wary of joining her in the anti-magic field. His relationship with magic is very different than hers, and having it stripped from him was literally disarming. At the moment, comforting Venali took precedence over his own comfort. Besides, it seemed to not quite sate the orb, but rather take away the means by which it hungered. This was a curious enough comfort to him to bear what he'd lost. For the moment.

And a long moment it was. Venali clung to him for what seemed to her like hours, though it was only a matter of minutes. Gale held her, tried to reassure her with gentle words, but eventually settled on letting her tire herself out. When her sobs finally slowed to uneven breaths, she pulled herself together and apologized for imposing on him like that. He promised her it was no imposition at all; rather, he was happy for it to happen here in privacy that seemed to bring her some form of catharsis, despite the locale.

Overcome with gratitude (and a surge of emotions that, for once, neither hurt nor discomfited), she pulled him in for a short and ill-advised kiss. His first reaction was to pull away, worried his own emotions might destabilize the orb. Venali was apologizing the moment they broke apart, but Gale, remembering that the orb had nothing to feed on, met her for a second, clumsy attempt. They were both lacking in experience, but made up for any awkwardness with eager curiosity.

When they separated again, it was with soft smiles and bashful assurances. They walked back to a quiet camp together. Shadowheart shot Venali a look that said they were going to talk about it later. Astarion gave them a grin that said he would talk to Shadowheart about it now. Ven dared any of them to question why she stayed in Gale's tent that night, and every night that came after.

[beyourlionheart]

WIP Whenever

Christening this brand new sideblog with a lovely tag from @emimayooo <3

Tagging: Absolutely anyone who would like to participate!! Please let me see your WIPs

This is a little bg3 bloodweave WIP that I found in my drafts from about a month ago. Will it actually become a publishable fic? Who knows.

The general premise is based on the early iterations of Gale that involved him having a rotting arm from the orb's presence. Astarion is, of course, nosy.

Read more under the cut.

WC: 935, Rating: T

When Astarion finally comments on Gale’s arm, it’s with even less tact that the wizard had come to expect from the vampire.

“Come on, just unwrap it. It can’t be any more unseemly than the rest of you, can it?”

A smile dances on his lips as his red eyes seem to egg Gale on. He had at least waited until the rest of their companions had gone to bed, leaving the two of them alone around the campfire, but Gale still finds himself frantically looking around to see if anyone had overheard. No one stirs. 

He had done his best to keep his orb-rotten arm underwraps — both literally and figuratively — since being picked up by the nautiloid. For the most part, he had succeeded. He had managed to keep his thick black glove covering his hand whenever anyone was looking, and his robes would hide the rest of his wrappings well enough. Dollops from a vial of sandalwood oil that he had so fortuitously kept on his person at the time of his capture had even managed to cover  the strange smell of otherworldly magic, so long as no one was intentionally pressing their nose to his wrappings.

How Astarion had managed to figure out his secret had only been made clear a few mornings into their journey, when Tav had emerged from their bedroll with an open wound on their neck to match the trickle of blood that had dried on Astarion’s chin. 

Of course Gale would manage to end up camping with a bloodhound. He narrows his eyes at the elf now, making it known that his comment is most unwelcome.

“My arm is none of your business, Astarion.”

“Isn’t it?” Astarion leans back, somehow managing to make the misshapen log he’s sitting on look comfortable. “We are traveling together, for better or worse. I have a right to know what troubles plague my companions, just as you all were so concerned about my vampirism.”

Gale’s lips curl into a sneer, which makes him feel very unlike himself. He rarely reacts this strongly to anything, but his arm is a particularly sore subject. 

It’s no small thing for a wizard to lose his arm. His leg would be a different story — he doesn’t need his leg the same way. Or, at least, he wouldn’t normally, when he’s lounging about his tower rather than trekking through the wilderness. His leg doesn’t cast spells or prepare food or flip pages in a book. It does not gesticulate or hold other hands or scratch behind Tara’s ear. His leg does very little other than get him from point a to point b, and Gale would happily sacrifice it if it were to mean his continued survival. 

But his arm… Gale rubs at his gloved hand absently, feeling that familiar numbness where the sensation of touch should be. It would be easier if it were simply lobbed off one day and he were forced to accept its absence and find new ways of existing. But this? This slow death? The mocking kindness of its continued semi-cooperation as he holds his breath and waits for the day when the nerves no longer respond to his brain’s instructions? It is a torture so cruel he can’t begin to describe it.

“Your vampirism is no concern to me as long as you keep your fangs out of my neck. Similarly, my arm is no concern of yours, ever. I’ve already told you everything you need to know about the orb, and my limbs pose no threat to anyone here.”

Astarion flashes sharp teeth but plays it off as a laugh. It feels like a warning. “Trust me, darling, my fangs will never touch your neck as long as you’ve still got that smell about you.”

Gale huffs and sits up straighter, trying not to be obvious as he deigns to sniff at the arm in question. It doesn’t smell particularly strongly to him today, but he does not have elven or vampiric senses. Perhaps it is as offensive as Astarion seems to think.

“If it smells so terrible then why in nine hells would you want me to unwrap it?” Gale asks warily. “One would assume that you’d keep your distance from something that makes your nose wrinkle so.”

The click of Astarion’s tongue reminds Gale very much of Lae’zel. They’ve all been picking up each other’s mannerisms. “I never said it smells bad, did I? It’s just… unnatural. Forgive me if I’m curious about the unnatural, given my condition.”

Silence blossoms between them as they study each other for a long moment. Gale’s not quite sure what to say — Astarion doesn’t seem to find the smell of his arm directly offensive, despite its current state, which Gale can only think to describe as decaying. 

Part of him wants to indulge Astarion’s curiosity. Gale had always fancied himself an adept teacher, when the moment to convey knowledge presents itself, and a surefire way to his heart has always been a keen interest in learning. 

A larger, much more damaged part of him can’t stand the idea of anyone — particularly Astarion — getting a glimpse of the true horror that his body had become. 

He purses his lips and then settles on: “I would suggest growing acquainted with disappointment, Astarion.”

The look Astarion gives him is, for the briefest moment, so sad that it takes Gale’s breath away. Before he can figure out the reason behind the harrowing gaze, Astarion’s eyes are dark and unreadable once more. “Believe me, disappointment and I are old friends.”

[razrogue]

for Gan my beloved <33

lae'zel 5. Did your character influence Lae’zel into staying loyal to or rejecting Vlaakith? How did this affect their relationship with her?

shadowheart 4. What did your character think about Shadowheart’s devotion to Shar, including her memory sacrificing?

astarion 1. How did your character react to Astarion’s little charade and dagger first encounter?

gale 3. What did your character think about Gale’s romance with Mystra?

minthara 1. What motivated your character to initially spare or side with Minthara, then later rescue her from Moonrise Tower?

jaheira 1. Did your character have any knowledge of Jaheira’s reputation as a hero prior to meeting her?

minsc bonus. What did Gan think of the guardian spirits Minsc described as residing in the Sleeping Lands? What about his assumption of what Baldur's Gate's equivalent spirits would be?

Lae'zel - 5. Did your character influence Lae’zel into staying loyal to or rejecting Vlaakith? How did this affect their relationship with her?

Gan is typically big on "you do whatever works best you". It's your life and she doesn't have to live it so she's not usually one to interfere. In this particular case though, she did mention to Lae'zel when they camped right after leaving the creche that Vlaakith seemed to be hiding some crucial background info and that making a decision based on what Vlaakith told them seemed like a foolish thing to do. Gan never went into the astral prism (cause fuck Vlaakith I'm not your follower lol) and it almost came to a fight with Lae'zel about that decision but Gan stood her ground on that and Lae'zel reluctantly went along. Their relationship was a little shaky after that until Lae'zel really went through some of the discs they'd found and they spoke to Voss. Gan and Lae'zel had a long talk about what that would mean for her if Voss was telling the truth. Gan just tried to be there for Lae'zel (in a show of something resembling friendship) because she needed her focused on the task ahead of them.

Shadowheart - 4. What did your character think about Shadowheart’s devotion to Shar, including her memory sacrificing?

Gan doesn't usually give much thought to who or what people choose to worship or devote themselves to seeing as her own beliefs are pretty loose to damn near nonexistent outside of believing in herself. She did think SH was out of her damn mind to allow her memories to be sacrificed. That kind of manipulation makes Gan uneasy honestly because how do you know what's real anymore. Everything you thought you knew could have been fabricated, leaving you completely unsure of what is and isn't your own recollection.

Astarion - 1. How did your character react to Astarion’s little charade and dagger first encounter?

So this asshole 🙄😆 I HC that encounter going differently than in-game because there's no way Gan would have walked away without some suspicion of his ass so he would not have completely pulled her to the ground from behind. They would have been in a minor scuffle which landed them in the dirt. He still lands on top at her throat but his attention is divided between trying to get the upper hand and warning off Gale and SH. All Gan needs is a sliver of a moment and she gets it. She didn't react terribly to the encounter because while he had a dagger to their throat, she had a dagger to his ribs.

Gale - 3. What did your character think about Gale’s romance with Mystra?

Answered here!

Minthara - 1. What motivated your character to initially spare or side with Minthara, then later rescue her from Moonrise Tower?

The currency of information is what prompted Gan to side with Minthara. When Gan visited the grove, she only went to see about the healer and do some trading (or stealing). Whatever was happening with the tieflings and the druids was none of her business. After seeing how tense things were and watching Kagha's whole show, Gan just wanted to get what she needed and GTFO. When Kagha asked her to help the tieflings leave, Gan let her know if she wasn't getting paid then it was none of her business. Kagha dismissed her and Gan went on her merry way - spoke to Nettie, killed Nettie, stole Nettie and the grove's stuff. As she was leaving, she decided to see what Zevlor was willing to pay for her "help" but when he said they didn't have much Gan checked out mentally and continued trading and left. When she got to the goblin camp and spoke to her, she'd gotten more information about what was happening than ever and that was payment enough especially if she could get more. So off she went to the grove to "aid" them before letting Minthara and the raiding party in. She was rewarded like she thought she would with info about Moonrise, a way to traverse the shadow lands safely, and a steamy night pinned beneath a very formidable and very hot woman. At Moonrise, as she watched what unfolded before Ketheric, she initially didn't feel much other than a pang of regret and annoyance that such a skilled [in multiple ways] person was going to perish so unceremoniously. As she was walking around the dungeon "procuring" items and keeping her word to Barcus so she could get paid, when she stumbled on Minthara's punishment it infuriated Gan. Not that she was above torture or inflicting mental statuses on targets or enemies, it just brought back awful memories for Gan and she was moved to act on Minthara's behalf. If they'd simply beheaded her or did some physical torture before beheading her, it wouldn't have moved Gan one bit. But as she watched it unfold, she saw herself in the situation (because she had been in a similar situation) and couldn't bear to let it continue so she deceived them and freed her. Then they proceeded to smear the floors with the blood of everyone that wasn't a prisoner in that dungeon.

Jaheira - 1. Did your character have any knowledge of Jaheira’s reputation as a hero prior to meeting her?

Gan's not from Baldur's Gate and never lived there beyond occasionally visiting for work so she was not as familiar with the tales in detail.

Minsc bonus - What did Gan think of the guardian spirits Minsc described as residing in the Sleeping Lands? What about his assumption of what Baldur's Gate's equivalent spirits would be?

I don't think Gan talked to Minsc enough to even get this discussion because I have no idea what this is 😆