#how gale is caught up in the weave and how the weave is the world and how. mystra plays into this

[rexcaliburechoes]

does gale know that he's appreciated? does he know that he's loved? does he know that he's funny and witty and charming and worthwhile as a companion because of his simple existence? does he know that there is fulfillment in following the ambition to live? does he know? can he see the paths laid before him, the paths he is destined to walk, some that end in his death, others that continue on with his life, does he understand the ramifications of his choices, does he understand how his choices have affected the other companions' courses just by asking for a hand?

does he understand how the act of taking his hand grounds him in reality, towards a brighter future?

of course he doesn't; he's a fictional character and he only knows thst he sees in front of him and that is his death several feet ahead of him. he is entangled in the fabric of the universe like a moth in a spider's web, the strands of his ambitions and regrets clinging, gossamer thin yet sticky and strong, holding him fast to the paths that rip him in too many directions.

all he needs is a little push into the spider's maw or free to fly and live another day.

[moonselune]

I loved your one for the girlies! What do you think each of the guy’s favourite kisses to give and receive are generally? Ty!!

Okay I ended up making these ficlets because they ended up being too cute ! Thank you for your support !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The quiet of the library was broken only by the soft rustle of pages and the occasional muttering of incantations. Gale, deeply engrossed in an abstract spell, was lost in his work. His face illuminated by the flickering light of the candles scattered across the table, casting shadows that danced across his features. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he manipulated the weave, his fingers moving with practiced precision.

You, on the other hand, had been watching him from a nearby chair, your gaze fixed on his focused expression. You couldn’t help but smile at how absorbed he was in his spellcasting.

Quietly, you slipped off your chair and approached him, your footsteps light and nearly silent. As you neared, you leaned in close, just enough for your breath to brush against his ear. Without a word, you pressed a quick, teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth, your lips barely grazing his skin before you pulled away.

The effect was immediate and unmistakable. Gale’s spell faltered, his hand momentarily freezing mid-motion. His eyes widened as he turned his head, his focus shifting from the intricacies of magic to the unexpected interruption. His lips parted in surprise, and he looked at you with a mixture of confusion and intrigue.

“Really?” he said, his voice a mix of exasperation and amusement. “You know how much I hate it when you do that.”

You couldn’t suppress the grin that spread across your face. “What can I say? I like seeing you get flustered.”

Gale set aside his spell components with a dramatic flourish, the frustration evident in his movements. His expression shifted from irritation to determination, and he pushed away from the table with a sense of urgency. He straightened his tunic, his gaze locked on you as if you were the most important thing in the room.

“You know,” he said, his voice taking on a teasing tone as he began to walk towards you, “I believe you owe me a proper kiss for that little stunt.”

You started to back away playfully, your laughter a soft, musical sound that echoed through the room. “Oh, do I now?”

Gale’s steps quickened as he pursued you, his usual grace turned into a purposeful stride. His eyes, normally so focused on the arcane, were now filled with a playful intensity. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm as he closed the distance between you.

Finally, he caught up to you, his hands gently cupping your face. The teasing glint in his eyes was replaced by a genuine, tender affection.

“You’ve made me wait long enough,” he said, his voice softening. “Now, how about that kiss you owe me?”

Before you could respond, Gale leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both passionate and impatient. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you in that moment. His fingers threaded through your hair, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his earlier frustration melting into a deep, consuming affection.

When he finally pulled away, his breath mingling with yours, he looked at you with a satisfied smile. “See? That’s much better,” he murmured.

You chuckled, feeling a warm glow spread through you. “I’m glad you think so.”

Gale’s expression softened as he gazed at you, the playful edge replaced by a tender smile. “You always manage to get the best of me,” he said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

You rested your forehead against his, savoring the closeness. “And you always manage to make me feel special.”

Gale’s smile widened, and he pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a comforting warmth. “That’s because you are special to me. More than you know.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

As night fell, the soft glow of lanterns cast gentle shadows across the room you and Astarion shared. The air was filled with a quiet intimacy, the kind that settled over you both after a long day. The bed was invitingly rumpled, the sheets disheveled from the evening’s earlier activities. You had just finished preparing for bed, and Astarion, ever the nocturnal creature, was lounging with a book, his pale fingers tracing the edges of the pages.

“Astarion,” you said softly, your voice a gentle murmur in the quiet room. “I’m heading to bed, but I see you’re still enjoying your book.”

Astarion looked up from his reading, his crimson eyes meeting yours with an almost theatrical nonchalance.

“Yes, well, some of us have a penchant for late-night reading,” he replied, his tone both playful and dismissive. “Sleep is highly overrated, don’t you think?”

You chuckled softly, reaching out to touch his cheek. “Suit yourself,” you said, your fingers brushing against his cool skin. “But I just wanted to give you a goodnight kiss before I go to sleep.”

Astarion’s expression flickered with something unreadable, but you knew better than to be deceived by his mask of indifference. You leaned in, your lips brushing against the sensitive skin at the top of his ear. The kiss was light, barely more than a whisper of touch, but it had a profound effect on him.

The moment your lips made contact with his ear, Astarion’s breath hitched ever so slightly. His body tensed, and for a brief moment, he closed his eyes as if savoring the sensation. His usual composed demeanor wavered, and he struggled to maintain his dramatic bravado. He set the book aside with an almost exaggerated flourish, his fingers gripping the edge of the cover as though it were a lifeline.

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat, attempting to regain his usual poise. “How very… touching of you.”

You could see through his attempt at nonchalance, the way his cheeks flushed a soft pink, a rarity for him. He tried to mask his reaction with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, but the slight quiver of his lips and the way he tried to suppress a grin betrayed him.

“It’s a favorite of mine,” you teased gently, your hand lingering on his shoulder. “I think it’s your favorite too.”

Astarion’s eyes flickered with a mix of amusement and vulnerability. He tried to look away, but the soft glow of the lanterns highlighted the way his usually sharp features had softened.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” he said, though his voice lacked its usual edge. “But, I suppose I do appreciate the gesture.”

You leaned closer, resting your forehead against his for a moment. “Goodnight, Astarion,” you whispered, your voice warm and affectionate.

He hesitated for a second before reaching up to gently cup your face in his hands, his touch tender despite his attempt to appear aloof. “Goodnight, my dear,” he said softly, his voice betraying a hint of genuine affection.

As you left the room to head to bed, you glanced back to see Astarion still sitting there, his eyes following you with a look of wistful admiration. The book lay forgotten on his lap, his attention clearly diverted. It was a small victory, but one that brought a smile to your lips.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The bustling market was alive with vibrant colors and sounds. Stalls were lined with exotic goods, and the air was thick with the mingling aromas of street food. The lively chatter of vendors and shoppers created a lively symphony that filled the open space. You and Wyll wandered through the market together, enjoying the array of wares and the lively atmosphere.

Wyll was particularly animated as he perused the various stalls, his gaze darting between the different items on display. His enthusiasm was evident in the way he examined trinkets and listened to the vendors' pitches. You found yourself smiling at his genuine excitement, his joy a comforting and familiar sight.

As you strolled through the market, you couldn’t help but notice how Wyll's focus was fully absorbed in his surroundings. His attention was so directed that he barely noticed the playful glint in your eyes. You decided it was the perfect moment to indulge in a little mischief.

You gently took his hand in yours, guiding him to a quieter corner of the market where the noise and bustle were slightly muted. Wyll glanced at you, a curious look on his face. Before he could say anything, you leaned in close, your lips brushing lightly against the corner of his jaw. The kiss was tender and teasing, lingering just enough to stir something in him but leaving him wanting more.

The effect was immediate and noticeable. Wyll’s breath hitched slightly, and he shifted his weight, a subtle flush creeping up his neck. His eyes, which had been so focused on the market, now softened as he looked at you with a mix of surprise and longing. He tried to maintain his composure, but there was a distinct shift in his demeanor—a mixture of frustration and desire that was palpable.

“You… you’re quite the tease,” he said, his voice coming out a bit more breathless than usual. His hand, still clasped around yours, tightened slightly, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your palm. You smiled innocently, enjoying the reaction you elicited.

“Just giving you a little something to look forward to,” you said, your voice soft and playful.

Wyll’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, and he tried to keep his gaze steady, but his eyes betrayed his thoughts. He took a deep breath, attempting to regain his composure.

“You know, you’re making it rather difficult to focus,” he said with a wry smile. His voice was a mix of amusement and frustration, his eyes following your every movement with a renewed intensity.

You could see the way his shoulders tensed and his jaw tightened slightly, his internal struggle evident. He was clearly trying to maintain his gentlemanly demeanor, but the kiss had left him visibly pent up and yearning. The way he looked at you with those smoldering eyes spoke volumes about his suppressed desire.

You gave him a reassuring squeeze of his hand, savoring the way he responded to your touch.

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to get too comfortable,” you teased, leaning in to press another quick, teasing kiss to his cheek before pulling away.

Wyll let out a soft, almost frustrated sigh, the sound barely audible over the market noise. He looked at you with a playful yet yearning expression.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” he said, though his voice carried a hint of affection.

You laughed softly, enjoying the effect you had on him. “And you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

He smiled, a mixture of admiration and impatience in his eyes. “I suppose not.”

As you continued to wander through the market, Wyll’s demeanor remained a bit more reserved, his mind clearly preoccupied with thoughts of you. The playful kiss had left him in a state of eager anticipation, and despite his best efforts to focus on the market, you could tell he was counting down the moments until you could be alone together.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The camp was alive with the gentle hum of evening activity. Lanterns cast a soft glow over the scene as the day's tasks wound down. The scent of roasting meat mingled with the crisp evening air, and the crackling of the fire provided a steady rhythm to the background noise.

Halsin was deep in conversation with a few other members of the group, discussing the next day's plans. His tall form stood out among the others, his presence both commanding and calming. You were busy organizing supplies, focusing on ensuring everything was in order for the night. The two of you had been moving about, caught up in your respective duties, but you hadn’t lost sight of each other.

As you passed by Halsin, who was still deeply engaged in his discussion, you seized the opportunity to indulge in one of his favorite little moments. With a playful smile, you reached out and pressed a light kiss to the side of his shoulder, just above the sleeve of his tunic. It was a tender, fleeting gesture, one you knew he particularly enjoyed.

The effect was immediate. Halsin's conversation faltered for a split second as the touch registered. His gaze softened, and he excused himself, his arm instinctively reaching out to you. Before you could fully process his reaction, you felt his strong arm wrap around your waist, pulling you back against him with a gentle but firm embrace.

You barely had time to react before Halsin’s lips found the sensitive spot on your neck, his breath warm and tickling against your skin. His hold was both comforting and possessive.

"Always distracting me, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble filled with affection. His lips brushed against your neck, his breath creating a shiver that ran down your spine. You let out a soft laugh, feeling the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

"Just keeping you on your toes," you replied, your voice playful but tender.

Halsin’s lips traveled to your collarbone, leaving gentle kisses that made you feel cherished. He nuzzled into your neck, his touch both soothing and electrifying. His arm tightened around you slightly, pulling you closer, as if he wanted to ensure you were entirely within his grasp.

“You have a way of making it impossible to concentrate,” he said, though there was no real frustration in his tone—just a deep, contented sigh. He leaned back slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a soft, adoring gaze. “It’s one of the many things I love about you.”

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I’m glad you don’t mind.”

Halsin’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “Mind? How could I?” he said, his voice warm and full of sincerity. “You have a way of making everything better, even when you’re just walking by.”

You chuckled softly, leaning into his touch. “I suppose I’ll have to keep up the distraction, then.”

Halsin grinned, his gaze lingering on you with an unmistakable affection. “Please do. It’s the highlight of my day.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Rolan:

In the dimly lit study, Rolan was deeply engrossed in his research. The soft glow of the lantern cast shadows on the walls, flickering as he turned the pages of an ancient tome. His focus was so intense that he barely noticed you approaching, a warm smile on your face as you prepared to head out to the market.

You walked over to him, the rustling of your clothes barely registering in his concentration. Gently, you placed a kiss on his forehead, your lips lingering for a brief moment as you wrapped your hands around his horns, holding them gently. The affectionate gesture was something Rolan cherished, and he always felt a wave of calm wash over him when you did it. It was as if, in those moments, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you.

As you pulled back, intending to leave, you heard a subtle rustling from below. Looking down, you saw Rolan’s tail curling around your ankle, its grip firm yet playful. His head remained bent over his book, but a mischievous glint in his eyes suggested he wasn’t as absorbed as he appeared.

“Please don’t go just yet,” Rolan murmured, his voice tinged with a mix of reluctance and affection. The tail tugged you gently, as if trying to anchor you in place.

You chuckled softly, kneeling beside him. “Why not come with me to the market?” you suggested, giving his tail a gentle nudge. “It’ll be more fun with you there.”

Rolan looked up from his book, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

“Well, I could magic up some food for us, save us the trip,” he said, a hint of playful defiance in his tone. You raised an eyebrow, remembering the last time he tried to do just that.

“Please don’t,” you pleaded, a note of exasperation in your voice. “Last time you did that, we ended up with a bunch of mud mephits in the kitchen for a week. It was chaos.”

Rolan’s eyes widened with genuine amusement at the recollection. He sighed dramatically, closing his book with a soft thud.

“Fair point,” he admitted, his tail loosening its grip. “Those mephits were quite the nuisance.”

With a resigned smile, he leaned back in his chair, his gaze softening as he watched you.

“Alright, go enjoy your market trip. But don’t be gone too long,” he said, his voice gentle and tinged with longing. “I’ll be waiting here, all on my lonesome.”

You stood up, giving his horns one last affectionate caress before turning to leave. As you walked towards the door, you glanced back to see Rolan’s gaze following you, a mix of longing and warmth in his eyes.Before you fully exited, you turned with a playful grin.

“If you’re good, I might bring you a treat,” you said, giving him a wink. Rolan’s tail gave a contented flick as he watched you leave.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he called after you, his voice carrying a note of affectionate amusement.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Raphael:

The House of Hope was bathed in a golden twilight, the soft light filtering through the ornate windows and casting intricate patterns on the floor. The air was filled with the lingering warmth of the day, a gentle contrast to the briskness of the evening breeze outside. You had just finished a conversation with Raphael, and as you glanced at the clock, you realized you were running late to meet someone important.

With a quick, affectionate gesture, you moved towards Raphael, leaning in to press a swift, tender peck to his lips. The kiss was meant to be fleeting, a simple goodbye as you hurried out. You had barely pulled away when Raphael’s eyes flashed with a mischievous glint.

In one smooth motion, he reached out and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you back towards him with a sudden, unexpected force. His lips found yours again, this time with a deeper, more intense pressure. You gasped softly at the sudden shift, your initial surprise quickly replaced by a mixture of frustration and delight.

Raphael’s lips moved against yours with a slow, deliberate passion, savoring the taste of your kiss as if he were drinking in the very essence of you. His hands roamed gently over your back, guiding you closer and deepening the kiss. You could feel his warm breath mingling with yours, and the sound of your soft, reluctant protests only seemed to spur him on further.

“Trying to leave so soon?” Raphael murmured between kisses, his voice a velvety whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “You wouldn’t want to upset me, would you?”

You tried to protest, though your words were muffled by the intensity of his kiss.

“Raphael, I… I really need to—” Your sentence trailed off into a breathless moan as he pressed closer, his lips brushing against yours with a teasing insistence.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your lips. “But I enjoy these moments with you far too much. Surely you can spare a little more time.”

Despite your rush, the way he kissed you—full of hunger and playful dominance—made it hard to pull away. His lips moved with a practiced grace, the kiss growing deeper and more consuming as you found yourself caught in the pleasure of the moment. You pouted against his mouth, your cheeks flushing as his hands settled on your face, holding you gently yet firmly.

You tried to remind yourself of your pressing appointment, but Raphael’s kisses were so captivating that it was nearly impossible to focus on anything but him. His hands continued their gentle exploration, making sure you felt every caress, every touch.

When he finally pulled away, it was only slightly, enough to rest his forehead against yours and gaze into your eyes with a mix of satisfaction and affection.

“There, now,” he said softly, his breath warm against your skin. “Wasn’t that worth the delay?”

You looked up at him, your own breath coming in soft, uneven puffs. Despite the frustration you felt, there was no denying the warmth spreading through you from his touch and the way he made you feel cherished and adored.

“You’re impossible,” you said, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Raphael’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with a mix of triumph and affection. “And you’re mine. Now, go on—take care of your business. I’ll be waiting here, counting the moments until I see you again.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Some fluff to soothe our souls, I know that I've been doing a lot of Dark!BG3 recently so thought I would do something lighter, hope you enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[hemoglobinjuicebox]

I want this nerdy wizard man carnally

You stared at him, mouth agape. “You want to do what, exactly?”

Gale shut his book and set it on his nightstand. He turned, propping himself up on his elbow to look at you with those wholesome brown eyes and that cheeky little smile.

“It's just an experiment,” he said. “It's no soul-intertwining metaphysical love-making, but I believe just a touch of magic could make our time in the bedroom just a bit better. Only with your express permission, of course. Just say the word, and we'll be right back to the good old fashioned romp in an instant.”

You were still hesitant, but you decided to humor him. “What would this ‘touch of magic’ entail?”

“It could entail a multitude of things depending on how you want to use it. Mage Hand is a very variable spell.”

You let out a breath of disbelief. “Mage Hand? Is that safe, Gale?”

His face was that of a kicked pup’s. The very notion of him doing anything to hurt you made every inch of his body ache. He drew closer and wrapped you in his arms. His chin sat stop your head, his hands rubbing the curves of your hips. By instinct, you snuggled up to him, tucking your face in the warm crook of his neck.

“It's safe,” he murmured. “But I'd never want you to do anything you didn't want to do. You've been through that enough.”

The two of you lazed in your silence. His lips occasionally brushed your forehead or your temple. Your hands gently scratched his nape and his back, getting all the spots he could never reach alone. Yet, your thoughts lingered elsewhere.

Knowing Gale, if he said something was safe, it most certainly was. He’d never want to hurt you. You were his everything; he repeated it daily. He would likely do so until he drew his last breath.

A touch of magic couldn't hurt, could it?

You spoke up. “Gale?”

He let out a low hum of acknowledgment. You swallowed.

“I… I want to do it.”

He pulled back from you, his hands still resting on your hips. His eyes gleamed with excitement. In the firelight, dim just enough for you to see him and hardly anything more, you could almost mistake them for pools of gold. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and whispered:

“You won't regret it. I promise.”

You soon found yourself reclining against the headboard with your legs spread, cushioned by every pillow Gale could find. There was one for your head, one for your upper back, two for your lower back, and one to keep your hips up. Gale knelt between your knees, keeping your thighs apart with loving hands that explored everywhere they could reach.

“Do you want me to use it before or after you're prepared?” he asked.

You replied swiftly, “After. I… I want your hands first.”

“Your wish is my command. Now, shall we?”

You nodded and took a deep breath. His hand came up to cradle your flushed cheek. The other rubbed small circles around your bud, eliciting a series of lewd noises from your lips. Your thighs twitched with every touch.

“Gods,” Gale breathed. “Look at you. There's nothing more beautiful than the way you look right now. How you always look. How you looked since you first pulled me from that portal and saved my life.”

He caught your lips in a brief, sweet kiss. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

Every tender word, every stroke brought you closer and closer. You could feel it building: that special heat that filled your entire body. It made your eyes blur. Sweat glistened on your neck and chest. Your core dripped with your need for him.

You heard the ethereal wisp of magic forming. You saw the glowing blue through the misty haze of your tears. You shuddered as the two digits grazed your folds with a featherlight stroke, the Weave humming against your sensitive skin.

Then, they pushed. You let out a wanton moan as you struggled to take their girth. Gale's thumb loved on your bud as the Mage Hand's fingers curled inside you, hitting exactly where you wanted them to with every thrust. You could barely make out Gale's encouragement as the fingers ravished your core.

Your walls pulsed. Your breathing quickened to short, sharp gasps. Your hands gripped the sheets so tightly that they threatened to rip—

You threw your head back with a cry of pure ecstasy as you came on the fingers of the Mage Hand. Your soaked core fluttered and clenched, drenching the Weave in your release.

Gale leaned in and pressed a long kiss to your lips. He pulled away with a soft whisper:

“You are wonderful.”

[galedekarios]

gale's early access dialogue transcripts - first meeting/character introduction

while going through my metas on gale's early access scenes and dialogues that were largely cut (deer stew scene, loss scene, various dialogues reacting to the game's world and events, tiefling party romance path, etc etc etc), i realised i never talked about how very different his introduction was in early access in comparison to how it is now.

i'll focus on the early access version of the first meeting with gale and his character introduction in this post with a short general comparison between the two scenes (early access vs full release), dialogue transcript of the early access scene, and a video of the early access recruitment of gale.

general

in the full release version of the game, the player isn't introduced to gale right away. you approach a malfunctioning netherese rune, out of which a hand appears. from there, you can either decide to rescue gale from the predicament that he found himself in while trying to save himself from the crashing nautiloid, or leave him to his fate. he is very much a "damsel in distress" in this moment, largely relying either on the protag's curiosity or their good will.

in early access, it was very different:

as soon as you approached the rune, a cutscene would trigger where gale would step out of the netherese teleportation rune as if he transported from one rune to another, which he then explains as much if the protag would ask him about it. he was in no need to be rescued, seemingly already exploring before the protag woke up at the beach, perhaps less impaired by the crash than they were.

transcript

(Protag approaches Netherese Teleportation Rune, Gale steps out of the Netherese Teleportation Rune) Gale: You're alive. That's unexpected. Last I saw you, you were laying in a crucible's worth of blood, an intellect devourer nibbling at your ear. Glad to see my eyes deceived me. I'm Gale. Well met!

Protag - Option 1: Well met. You were on the ship as well, I presume? Gale: The very same. A traumatising experience – if an instructive one. - Protag - Option 2: Where did you appear from? Gale: See that rune? Netherese, I think. Weave's so thick on it, it's almost viscous. I had a taste and just like that – swept from one rune to the next. - Protag - Option 3: You don't trust him. Draw your weapon.  Gale: Ooh – easy does it, lass/lad. You really, really don't want to do that. Not a threat, just an observation.

Gale: Besides, we just survived a stint through Hell on a nautiloid. Statistically speaking we’re anomalies on par with a convivial aboleth. - Protag - Option 1:  (Sheath your weapon.) Gale: Reason answered by reason! Say – are you perchance a wizard? To be more precise; an archwizard. - Protag - Option 2: And why would I really, really not want to attack you? Gale: We'll get to that. I have a much pressing question first: are you perchance a wizard? To be more precise; an archwizard. - Protag - Option 3: (Attack.)  Gale: Dear me. Lets hope I win – bound to be innocents around. (Ends conversation, begins combat)

-

Protag - Option 1: Well met. You were on the ship as well, I presume? Gale: The very same. A traumatising experience – if an instructive one. - Protag - Option 2: By trauma I suppose you mean the thing they put in my eye? Gale: Yes. The ocular penetration by an illithid tadpole which will end with our souls being snuffed like strands of Weave caught in Dead Magic.  - Protag - Option 2: Instructive? What makes you say that? Gale: Nautiloids are incredibly rare vessels: a mind flayer colony's most guarded secret – and a gith pack’s greatest prize.  - Protag - Option 3: I'm not quite in the mood for flippant answers. Gale: Suit yourself – I merely sought to share the wonder of the experience. Nautiloids are incredibly rare vessels: a mind flayer colony's most guarded secret – and a gith pack's greatest prize. 

-

Gale: Not to mention... You're staring at me like a Rashemi at a blackboard. You're no wizard, are you? - Protag - Option 1: No, I'’'m no wizard. Gale: Pity. But that will have to wait.  - Protag - Option 2: Why do you ask? Gale: Because I need one. But it will have to wait.  - Protag - Option 3: I don't take kindly to insults Gale: Thin-skinned – and a dodger of questions. Usually means the answer's no. Guess that will have to wait. - Protag - Option 4: (Warlock/Wizard/Sorcerer): I'm better than a wizard; I'm a warlock /  I'm a wizard. / I'm a sorcerer. Gale: There’s a gust of Weave about you, but it's a mere breeze. I need a tempest. But it will have to wait.  - Protag - Option 5: If there is one thing I don't care for, it's bloody wizards. Gale: Ouch.  Guess that will have to wait. 

-

Gale: The primary need now is a healer. I take it you recall the insertion of the parasite? - Protag - Option 1: I recall it, yes. Vividly. Gale: Then you know what happens next. It is to be avoided.  - Protag - Option 2: That could have all been an illusion. A bad dream. Gale: [If Protag is a Gith] A common Githyanki nightmare no doubt, but I assure you what happened to us was quite real. - Protag - Option 3: That's my business, not yours. Gale: Gotcha. Private. Nothing to do with me. Aaand yet… you know what happens next. It is to be avoided. 

-

Gale: I assume you are no accomplished healer either? A powerful cleric maybe? - Protag - Option 1:  Can't say that I am. Gale: Then we will have to find one – and fast. You and I are in a whole lot of trouble. We need help and I’m not sure where we'll find it in this wilderness. - Protag - Option 2: Why can't you just use magic? Gale: Sadly my studies of the arcane are on hold for the foreseeable future. This is beyond me. For now. - Protag - Option 3: Look, is this a conversation or an interrogation? Gale: Just trying to figure out where we stand. Conclusion nowhere. You and I are in a whole lot of trouble. We need help and I’m not sure where we'll find it in this wilderness.

-

Gale: How about we embark on the quest for a healer together? - Protag - Option 1:  Yes, I'd like you to join me. Gale: Most excellent! Now without further ado, lets be off! (Gale joins the party) - Protag - Option 2:  No, thank you. I’m not looking for another travelling companion. Gale: Are you certain? A wizard is a mighty weapon to have in your arsenal. - Protag - Refusal:  I'm certain. Gale: You're quite significant loss. (Gale doesn't join the party, stays by the teleportation rune)

-

(If party is already full) Gale: And I'm flattered , I'm sure – but it seems you're travelling with a substantial amount of companions already. Maybe later, yes? 

-

(Protag returns to Gale after first meeting & not recruiting him) Gale: Changed your mind? I'm still happy to join you if you'll have me. Shall we? Protag - Refusal: Decline. Gale: You've grown none the wiser, I see.  - Protag - Accept: Accept.  Gale: Most excellent! Then without further ado, lets be off! Here's hoping we come across a powerful healer and a powerful wizard both. 

video comparing both scenes

i hope this was interesting to someone and as always i appreciate your support!

taglist:

@chainsawmascara, @randomfanner, @tacogoats, @khajiit-necromancer, @gwinharper,

@galesenchantedpanties, @swampfaerie, @ardently-queer, @nirraein, @gale-enjoyer,

@xiv-wolfram, @kairoswouldnever, @a-psychopathic-dream, @toboldlydammitjim, @vcxahlia,

@fitzmagus

i thought i'd tag the people i'd seen taking an interest in my original post! if you want to be taken off the taglist, or added, please let me know!

[gale-dekarios]

I think Gale is a touchy feely person who needs to keep his hands on the Tav whilst they make love. He's gotta believe they're real, that they're with him, that it isn't a hallucination or a dream. He strokes their hair, he plants kisses along their neck where the heartbeat is strongest, and feels their breath against his shoulder. Even the simplest act of fingering or stroking them is a way to know they're truly in front of him. Tasting their arousal just to have evidence of their existence. He loves knowing that this is his newfound life. His new purpose. His new reason to live and not give up so easily as he almost had. Mystra wanted him to die for her. Tav wanted him to live for himself. So forgive him if he constantly needs the littlest of reminders to know Tav is truly real, and not just a hopeful dream.

retrospective edit: hi im charlie and welcome to my tedtalk. 50/50 on whether or not any of this makes sense, because i did in fact pop 9mg (prescribed) sleeping aides a half hour before writing this, so i could wake up tomorrow and realise this was all gibberish. or maybe not! i should not be the judge of that rn

regardless of how you or your character feels about the line, i truly believe that gale believes that tav/his romantic partner is a god/dess, and it's the things like this that cement it for me.

when you think about it, (traditional) worship is very much devoting your life to a diety, and receiving some benefit back, which could really be a range of things from feeling comforted and secure about your place in the world, to moreso your clerics with actual divine gifts bestowed upon them, to chosen, like gale, who, (at least in his case) gets to kind of... tap into the wellspring of that god's domain and understand it more than any other mortal could.

this type of devotion is even purer than his devotion to mystra. the reason being is that whilst i dont believe gale ever was devoted to mystra for nefarious self-serving purposes, it would be remiss to gloss over that he did enjoy certain luxuries that he wouldnt have if he wasnt so close to his goddess, and whilst tav offers a lot more than mystra ever could both emotionally and in the service to him living an actually good and normal enriched life, this doesnt translate to any practical benefit that could compare to a literal deity -- (clumsily worded, but again, in this case im referring more to endless knowledge and immense mastery over the weave and recognition of status among his peers rather than curling up on the couch companionably).

which is to say -- i promise there's a point -- a tav, in all of their mortalness, that gale truly worships, with all of his devotion (which is a lot, he practised), must be very special for him indeed.

so gale gets ""nothing"" in return for the same if not a higher level of devotion than he ever shows mystra (i mean, when it literally comes down to it, he completely ignores her, an actual literal goddess's, direct orders bc you asked him to, so theres no doubt who wins that particular fight.) BUT -- and this is the point that i promised -- the real clincher here is that tav ASKS for nothing. well, again, not in the way that a deity asks for something. a deity asks a devotee to give them their life, what tav asks for is that gale HAS his life to do with what he chooses, and for that, gale chooses tav.

devotion, with gale and tav, is both freely given, but also freely taken. not selfishly, but in acceptance. gale had no choice, really, but to follow mystra's orders, but he followed tav anyway. how does that make tav anything less than a deity? that level of blind faith? tav accepting gale's devotion by virtue of just loving him is such a beautifully mundane piece of godhood, and comparing that to something as shallow as the ambition mystra offered is like comparing night and day.

so of course gale treats tav like he caught lightning in a bottle. he spent his whole life in the service to a goddess, devoting his whole life for the celestial equivalent of breadcrumbs -- as awesome (and i use that word as its original meaning) as godly power can be, nothing that was ever given to him truly cost mystra any real exertion -- but with tav, there is no expectation of exchange, only the full weight of one man's worship, and that is what would cause gale to treat them like an illusion. of course it does. gods that ask for nothing but for you to do the things that are in your best interest are not a thing. but tav does exactly that. how wonderful is that? how pure is that? is there truer devotion? so unmarred by any external benefit?

touching divinity is something that gale's had the extraordinary luck of having twice, but that does not make those experiences equal. his deity, that allows him to run his hands through their hair, to kiss their eyelids, and yes, indeed to also have desperate, sweaty, mortal sex with, without ever once asking for anything in return except that he remain whole and healthy? by fucking god will he make sure this is real.

[sinnomel]

Forget His Goddess

Pairing: Gale x Tav

Summary: What if you kiss Gale after he shows you how to manipulate the Weave?

A/N: this was supposed to be angst - Sin

There was a tadpole wriggling about in between their eyes with a set time limit on getting it out, an unfamiliar place that they landed in Faerûn and new companions that had nothing in common aside from their mission to free their headspace from the illithid transformation. At the moment, Tav’s concern was making sure that all of their new companions at least tolerated them - after all, they were going to be traveling together. Lae’zel proved to be one of the more difficult to make small talk with, and Astarion proved to be overly flirty for reasons they didn’t wish to delve into. Back at camp, Shadowheart would keep to herself, busying herself with the odd prism shaped artifact she collected on the nautiloid. 

Gale seemed to be the best at making conversation, but there was something that bothered Tav - he always brought up Mystra, the Goddess of Magic. It would happen, unprompted, during the group escapades into the Emerald Grove, walking the dirt paths, or even when everyone was in the middle of sneaking - he would ask for her blessing, her protection, or just utter her name.

Tav listened to his rambles which they thought were quite endearing, but then unprompted, he would mention Mystra. It wasn’t anything like Shadowheart, who worshiped Shar. Tav thought it was more than meets the eye - it seemed to them that Gale wanted to be in Mystra’s good graces, but for some reason, was not. Strange, Tav thought, as Gale was a wizard and his patron goddess had to be Mystra. There was a glint of sadness sometimes when he mentioned her, but it was never there very long. He would quickly hide it with his signature smile. 

One night, Tav was sitting by the campfire, the smell of burning logs and the cracking of the fire comforting them after a long and difficult day of fighting gnolls. They were in the middle of cleaning and polishing their armor, ridding it of the stickiness of dried blood with a damp cloth - that is, until they noticed that everyone else had been tending to their own devices but Gale specifically had his back towards everyone, as if he was holding something. Curiosity had gotten the better of them and they left their armor, the cloth and the comfort of the crackling fire. 

Tav approached quietly, trying to see what it is that Gale was holding - it was a magical rendering of Mystra that he was holding in one hand, concentrating to keep the image intact. “Pretty,” Tav said, startling Gale so much that the image he was holding had disappeared. 

“O-Oh! You startled me. I…I was miles away,” he said, sounding like Tav had caught him doing something lewd and inappropriate. “Is there a reason you’re conjuring Mystra’s image?” “No special reason. I was practicing an incantation, that’s all,” he stumbled. “There must be something you’re not telling me. There seems to be more to this ‘incantation’ than meets the eye,” Tav said, making air quotes when they said incantation. Somehow, this had persuaded Gale to open up a bit more. “Well, she’s Mystra. I have a…need to see her sometimes. There’s no right way for me to describe this without it sounding strange,” he explained. “Mystra is all magic,” Gale added. 

Tav thought it strange how he spoke of his goddess - as if there was nothing else in the world that mattered but Mystra. This tugged at Tav’s heartstrings, wondering if there would ever be a person on this earth who would speak of them the way that Gale spoke of Mystra. Though, it was a bit heartbreaking, as Mystra didn’t answer him when he asked for her. 

“I don’t think I understand it. But perhaps you could show me?” Tav asked, slightly coy, leaning towards the wizard. Gale blinked and lit up, “I could do that if you’d like. Do as I do.” Gale started making arm movements and Tav copied after him, creating a cool to the touch purple aura. It was startling to them and they yelped, hopping back in surprise. Gale couldn’t help but chuckle at their reaction. However, a new feeling surrounded both Gale and Tav. It was comforting and warm, as if the air around them was enveloping the pair in a hug. Gale then asked Tav to repeat the incantation after him, which they did and suddenly their senses had heightened - the scent of rosewater erased the smell of the campsite, something sweet tampered with their taste buds and the delicate hair on the back of their neck stood straight, their skin creating goosebumps. Tav was sensing Mystra’s presence. They couldn’t help but look at Gale, both of their gazes connect, creating this tension, this need or anticipation of getting closer…close enough where their lips barely touch, their hands enveloping each other, then of course, closing the gap and sealing the moment with a kiss. But neither of them move and none of that happened. 

“How does it feel…Channeling the Weave?” Gale asked, looking around at the magic that Tav summoned. “Obviously magical…surprisingly sensual,” Tav said softly, their eyes looking around the magic. Gale agrees and their eyes lock once more. There was something about this moment that felt intimate with Gale. Tav felt something turn within them. The way that Gale is looking at them made their heart flutter in a way that it didn’t before and the Weave melded their minds. In a moment, Tav’s mind let loose an image of Gale and them kissing once, then twice, the second time more passionate than the first. Gale was flustered - as if Tav had described their intimate image themself. 

“I…I didn't think-” Gale started, the emotion the Weave is showing is that embarrassment is now turning to happiness. “Did I startle you?” Tav asked, their concentration was breaking as their concern was now overstepping boundaries. Because their concentration was breaking, the comfort and warmth of Mystra’s embrace was fading, it was feeling colder, more lonely, and that connection that Gale and Tav had was slowly being severed. “No. Not at all. I just wasn’t expecting it. But! It is very much appreciated. Very welcome…very much wanted,” he said, his eyes now showing a more seductive side to the wizard, now in turn, flustering Tav. 

The pair was standing in silence. Gale opened his mouth, then closed it, thinking about what it is that he wanted to say. 

“You look like you want to say something,” Tav said, watching the wizard contemplate the right words. “Well, you’re not wrong regarding that. I just don’t want to say the wrong thing,” Gale confessed. “I won’t judge you if it’s something you want to tell me,” Tav nodded, trying to keep the conversation from disintegrating. “I wanted to know if that was something you wanted to do,” Gale said quietly. Tav blinked and fought the blush creeping onto their cheeks. Instead of saying anything else, they closed the distance between their bodies and leaned up, but only slightly. They wanted Gale to meet them halfway, just in case this wasn’t something he wanted to do. Luckily for Tav, he closed the gap, pressing his lips against their own. Starting from this moment, Gale knew what it was like to forget his goddess.

[pixel7777]

The First Worshipper: Ch. 5

The naughty version of the beautiful artwork commissioned from the incredible misfitlunatic (https://x.com/misfit_lunatik or https://bsky.app/profile/misfitlunatik.bsky.social) can be seen in all its glory here.

If you want to read from the beginning, searching my blog for #myfic will bring up all my fanfic posts. Link for Chapter 1. Link for art discussion post.

Read this chapter below the break here or on AO3!

77 years AB

My darling, too-distant Tav,

Seventy-seven years. Has it really been that long since we saved the world? The numbers mock me—seven decades without you, ten times longer than we had together. And yet I remember that night in the parlor as clearly as if it were yesterday...

You'd dragged me home from that dreadful party at the Silvershield estate, practically bouncing with unspent energy. Before I could even remove my coat, you grabbed my hands and pulled me into a dance. No music, just you humming that ridiculous tavern song about the polymorphed prince. I protested, of course—someone had to maintain standards—but you just laughed and spun faster until I gave in.

We waltzed between the furniture, knocking over that hideous vase your Harper friends gave us. (I never told you I broke it on purpose.) You stepped on my toes at least twice, and I pretended to be more annoyed than I was. The candlelight caught in your hair, and for a moment, I forgot about everything else—Cazador, the tadpole, all of it. Just us, dancing like fools in our own home.

Karlach's gone now. Last week. She lived exactly as she wanted—loud, bright, burning hot right until the end. Dammon is... well. He has the children and grandchildren to distract him. The great-grandchildren too, though keeping track of all their names is becoming quite the task.

I'm trying very hard not to be bitter that she got so many more more years than you did, that she got to see her children grow up and grow old themselves. She filled every moment with that insufferable joy of hers, just like you always did. I assume you're not in the same place—your souls were rather differently aligned—but I'd like to think you'd both approve of how I've looked after her family.

Even Gale is slipping away now. The gods are taking him, bit by bit. Our little chats grow shorter, his visits more distant. Soon I'll be truly alone with all these memories, unless I do something typically dramatic about it.

Don't worry, darling. I learned from the best how to make an entrance.

Forever yours,

Astarion

[A continuation of the letter, in a hastier, more agitated script]

P.S. Before you start haunting me with that disapproving look of yours—yes, I know there are still seven spawn out there who helped orchestrate everything. But they're not going anywhere, are they? Immortality has its advantages. I can take my time planning something truly... special for them.

Besides, someone needs to be here for Dammon. And Shadowheart's garden isn't going to tend itself. Even that sad little bush you insisted on planting is still alive, if you can believe it. I've kept every single one of your ridiculous plants breathing.

So there. I'm being responsible. Aren't you proud?

P.P.S. Speaking of responsibility—what I'm planning next... well. You wouldn't approve. At all. But since you're not here to play my accomplice, I suppose you'll just have to live with it.

Or not live with it, as the case may be.

Though if you'd like to change that particular situation, I'm sure our skeletal friend would be delighted to assist. No?

Well then, darling—don't judge what you're not here to fix.

* * *

From the celestial plane, Gale tried to focus on the delicate task of weaving divine energy into a new constellation. The intricate work demanded his full attention, yet Astarion's persistent prayers kept pulling at his consciousness like an insistent child tugging a sleeve. The man wouldn't stop calling his name.

With an exasperated sigh that rippled through the cosmic ether, Gale finally gave up. He manifested in Astarion's bedchamber, ready to address whatever theatrical crisis his high priest had conjured this time.

The scene that greeted him made him wish he'd stayed focused on his stars.

Blue and silver clerical robes lay scattered across the marble floors, and Astarion was on the bed, tangled in the sheets with a woman. Her legs were wrapped around his waist as he moved against her with an almost predatory grace. Gale caught a glimpse of Astarion's lips against her neck, leaving a trail of kisses that elicited a series of moans from her.

No, not just moans. Not generic, harmless moans.  She was moaning Gale's name.  And so was Astarion.  That was what had called him here.

"Really, Astarion?" Gale pinched the bridge of his nose, averting his gaze from the tableau before him. He tried to ignore the heat that flared within him at the sight of Astarion's lean form, slick with sweat and straining with exertion.

Astarion's grin was positively wicked as he broke away from his lover's neck, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Ah, there you are! We were just discussing proper forms of worship."

The woman lifted her head and looked Gale up and down. “Is that… Gale Dekarios? Our God of Ambition himself?!”

“Why, yes. Isn’t it thrilling? Divine blessings on demand, darling.” Astarion continued rolling his hips but his eyes were laser focused on Gale. "I told you sleeping your way to the top was a valid form of ambition for our generous deity."

"Oh, Gale, your divine presence honors us! Astarion, I should never have doubted you!"

"Sister Elena," Gale recognized with dismay. "Aren't you supposed to be leading the novice prayer circle right now."

"Oh, she's leading something." Astarion's expression grew even more pleased with himself as he adjusted his angle and Sister Elena moaned again, “Oh, Gale! Oh, Gale, yes! Yes, like that!”

Gale spent his days on a plane of existence that regularly defied reality as mortals knew it, and yet this was the the most surreal moment Gale could recall experiencing. "But why are you calling out my name?  Astarion, did you tell her you were me?"

"Like anyone could confuse the two of us." Astarion grinned at the Sister who giggled in response.

Gale turned his back, then tried and failed to regain his composure. "Then…why?"

"Well, who else am I supposed to cry out for? ‘Oh, god’? That’s so generic. ‘Oh, Gale’ has a much nicer ring to it. Plus you have to admit as prayers go these are much less boring than the usual pleas for promotion or profit.”

“This is the last time I answer one of your ridiculous ‘prayers,’ Astarion. Find a better expletive!”

Gale could hear the pout in Astarion's voice. “But you’re my favorite.”

“I am not your personal plaything.”

Astarion laughed low, that register he used to flirt. “A shame. You’d be so good at it.”

"I'm leaving," Gale announced flatly. "And we will never speak of this again. If I ever speak to you again."

Astarion sighed heavily. "Elena, darling, I'm going need to deal with this. We can pick this up later.  I'll make it up to you very generously."

Gale listened as Elena giggled, gathered up her clothes, and scurried from the room.

Once Elena's footsteps faded, Gale whirled to face Astarion, who was now lounging against the headboard with a sheet draped artfully across his hips.

"This has to stop." Divine energy crackled around Gale's form. "You've turned prayer into a mockery, my worship into a joke."

"Come now, darling. I've built you the grandest temple in Baldur's Gate."

"A temple you use to host orgies and scheme against your enemies! You're not my high priest - you're using my name as a shield while you entertain yourself at my expense." What would Tav think? Utterly unacceptable to bring her into it, but the words were threatening to burst out anyway.  I mean, I wanted him to move on, but…

Astarion's smirk faltered. "I've given you followers, influence-"

"Followers who think I'm some sort of divine matchmaker! Who pray to me for bedroom advice!" Gale's voice rose as centuries of frustration burst forth. "You've never truly supported my role. Everything - the statues, the ceremonies, even this ridiculous display - it's all been about you."

"What did you expect?" Astarion sat up, eyes flashing. "That I'd spend eternity singing hymns and burning incense? That's not who I am."

"No, you're just the vampire who hijacked my divinity to distract himself from his own life."

"At least I'm still here!" Astarion's voice cracked. "While you float around in your celestial plane, playing with stars and ignoring everything below. You abandoned us - abandoned me - the moment you got your precious godhood."

"That's not-"

"Oh, but it is. Too busy with divine duties to attend Karlach's funeral. Too occupied with cosmic balance to help track down Tav's killers." Astarion's facade crumbled, revealing raw pain. "You chose your ambition over our friendship, Gale. Don't pretend otherwise.  You only ever show up anymore if I provoke you into it."  Astarion gestured dramatically at the bed and his own form. "For example…"

The accusation hit Gale like a physical blow.

Gale's divine sight had shown him too much - Astarion's late nights hunched over parchment, the tears falling onto ink, the ritual of burning letters that never reached their intended recipient. The weight of that knowledge pressed against his chest.

"You accuse me of abandonment?" Gale's voice carried the resonance of divinity despite his efforts to temper it. "While you write letters to a ghost and push away everyone who tries to reach you?"

Astarion went very still. "You've been spying on me?"

"I see everything my followers do, remember? Including your nightly correspondence with someone who can't write back."

"That's private." Astarion's words came out as a hiss.

"You go through the motions of moving forward - the parties, the schemes, even the temple. But you're not really here. You haven't been since Tav died."

"Oh, spare me the divine wisdom." Astarion pulled the sheet around himself like armor. "Is this jealousy speaking? Worried your first worshipper's devotion isn't pure enough?"

"This isn't about worship. This is about you demanding I be constantly present while you're only ever half here yourself." Gale stepped closer, power crackling around him.  A marble tile between Gale's feet cracked in three places.  Gale took a deep breath and tried to control himself. "When was the last time you had a real conversation with anyone? Let someone actually know you're hurting?"

"Please." Astarion's smile was sharp as the broken glass. "As if you'd understand, floating above it all in your cosmic perfection. Some of us are still stuck down here in the mess of mortality."

"I understand more than you think. I see you, Astarion. Every letter. Every tear. Every time you push someone away before they can get close enough to matter."

"Get out." Astarion's voice was deadly quiet.

"You can't keep living like this-"

"I said get out!" Astarion hurled a crystal goblet. It passed harmlessly through Gale's divine form and shattered against the wall. "Leave me to my mess of mortality, since you're so above it all now."

The raw anguish in Astarion's voice tore at something in Gale's chest. Even as a god, he felt the weight of his friend's pain like a physical thing. The bedroom's oppressive silence stretched between them, broken only by the sound of crystal shards settling on marble.

Astarion had turned away, his shoulders rigid beneath the sheet he'd pulled around himself like armor. The casual sensuality and teasing provocation from moments ago had vanished, replaced by something brittle and sharp-edged.

"Astarion..." Gale reached out, then let his hand drop. What could he possibly say now? He'd pushed too far, torn open wounds his friend wasn't ready to face. But when would he be ready? "You think I don’t miss her too? You think this—" He gestured at himself, divine light flickering, "makes it easier? Every time you write to her, I wonder if I should be the one to deliver the message. But she’s not coming back, Astarion. She chose to leave us behind."

"I believe I told you to leave." Astarion's voice was flat, emptied of its usual wit and charm. He didn't turn around.

Gale observed the tense line of Astarion's spine, the way his fingers gripped the sheet until his knuckles went white. The vampire spawn's usual masks had crumbled, leaving something raw and wounded exposed beneath.

"I shouldn't have—" Gale started.

"Don't." The word cracked like a whip. "Just go back to your stars, Gale. That's what you're good at."

The dismissal stung, but Gale knew he deserved it. He'd violated his friend's privacy, thrown Tav's memory in his face like a weapon. Some wounds weren't meant to be prodded, even by gods, no matter how much time had passed.

With a heavy heart, Gale let his divine form fade. The last thing he saw was Astarion's silhouette against the window, still as a statue, waiting for him to go.

From his celestial vantage, Gale watched Astarion's unnatural stillness persist long after his departure. No breath stirred his chest, no subtle shifts of weight betrayed discomfort. Just that statue-like pose that screamed of suppressed emotion.

The memory of their argument twisted in Gale's chest. He'd pushed too hard, said too much. But watching his friend spiral through increasingly outrageous distractions had become unbearable.

When he'd first convinced Astarion to abandon his Underdark revenge quest, Gale had thought proximity to their remaining companions would help. Karlach's warmth, Wyll's steadfast friendship, even Shadowheart's sharp-edged concern—surely these connections would anchor him.

Instead, Astarion had transformed the cathedral into an endless parade of excess. Each celebration more elaborate than the last, each ritual more irreverent, each "prayer service" more scandalous. The parties grew wilder, the jokes more pointed, the provocations more desperate.

Yet beneath it all, that terrible stillness waited. Gale saw it in the quiet moments between performances - when Astarion thought no one was watching. The way his smile dropped the instant his audience turned away. The mechanical precision with which he went through the motions of living.

Seven decades had passed since Tav's death. Time enough, Gale thought, to heal his wounds. But Astarion remained frozen in that moment of loss, preserved in grief like an insect in amber.

Gale's divine sight revealed the letter already taking shape on Astarion's desk—another missive to join the ashes of countless others. Another conversation with a ghost who couldn't answer.

If only Tav were here—she'd known exactly how to handle Astarion's moods. She'd always had that gift for reading people, for seeing past their defenses to the truth beneath.

But Tav's soul remained frustratingly beyond his reach, even as a god. He'd searched the planes, traced the paths of departed spirits, but found nothing. Whatever choice she'd made in death, it had taken her somewhere even divine sight couldn't penetrate.  Or least his. Withers would know, but Withers would never tell.

The irony wasn't lost on him. Here he was, a god with the power to shape reality, and he couldn't even help his best friend or find the one person who could. Should he maintain his distance, let Astarion work through his grief without divine intervention? Or would that just drive him further into isolation?

Tav would have known. She'd always understood the delicate balance between support and space, when to offer comfort and when to step back. But she wasn't here to guide either of them anymore. Perhaps he was never meant to guide Astarion out of his pain. Tav had done that once, and without her... Gale’s chest tightened. No amount of divinity could replace what they’d lost.

Gale sighed.  His presence wasn't helping.  Maybe it was time to try removing himself as a crutch and force Astarion to turn to someone else, someone who could spend every day at his side and coax him truly into the world again.  Someone who lived in the same world.

Gale closed his eyes as his heart clenched painfully in his chest.  He didn't know if he could actually refuse to answer when Astarion called.  He ignored a thousand idiotic prayers every day, all prompted by his wayward high priest, but he had a terrible record when it came to ignoring the high priest himself.  He would have to find the strength.  It would be for the best.

* * *

My too-patient Tav,

I've been terribly remiss, haven't I? Playing at being a priest, throwing parties, entertaining nobles who wouldn't have spat on me two centuries ago. What would you say if you could see me now? Actually, don't answer that. I can picture your expression perfectly—that little half-smile that always meant I was being ridiculous. It used to irritate me, that knowing look of yours. Now I’d give anything to see it again. Anything.

I've let myself get distracted by these... entertainments. Meanwhile, those responsible for taking you from me are still standing. Three down was a good start, but seven remain. Did you know they've scattered like rats through the Underdark? Smart of them, really. Makes hunting them so much more interesting.

Gale's been positively insufferable about it all. "Think about what you're doing, Astarion." "This isn't what Tav would want." As if he has any right to speak for you now. He barely shows his divine face anymore and when he does he's insufferable.

The thing is, love... I'm bored. These walls feel like they're closing in, all polish and propriety. No, it’s more than that. Gale’s sanctimonious little visit reminded me of something: I’m not made for this. I’m not you. I can’t pretend the world is a kinder place than it is. Blood is what I know. Blood is what I’m owed. I need to feel something real. And what could be more real than finishing what I started?

So I'm going hunting. Proper hunting this time. No more of these "accidents" that keep Gale marginally appeased. Let him sulk in his celestial plane—I don't need his approval or his protection.

You always said I had a flair for the dramatic. Well, darling, you haven't seen anything yet.

Yours in bloody revenge,

A.

[weaveandwood]

Weave and Woods Chapter 11: The Timelessness of Lovers

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

Summary:

Under an aurora-lit sky, Gale and Auroria confess their feelings for each other

“Thinking about Mystra’s demand?” Her brows furrowed as they always did when Mystra was brought up, especially after Elminster came with his missive.  “Yes.” He paused. “I must admit it is always on my mind. More so now even than before. To know that I’ve found you, and that you are in love with me as I am in love with you only to - ” His voice caught in his throat as tears formed in his eyes. “Only to have to leave you in a few days’ time…I must admit I am more terrified now than I was at the beginning of the night. I do not want to lose you, Ora. I do not want to leave you.” He smiled softly, tears spilling down his cheeks as he pictured what life could have been like with her in his tower, walking through the market each week, sunsets on the balcony, watching the Midwinter fireworks together. She grasped his hand. “Then don’t, Gale. Stay with me. Live. Live with me.” She kissed him again, her own tears mingling with his. “Let’s live.”

AN: This is my favorite scene of Act 2, and the whole game so far. I hope I was able to do it justice while making it my own. NSFW! Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex

Crafting an illusion was like composing a piece of music. One needed to take into consideration every layer - every piece of the orchestra needed to be successful on its own and work together as a whole to create a harmonious explosion of sounds. Illusions were similar. Every part of a convincing illusion needed to be perfect - one thing out of place, and the whole composition falls apart.

Gale was a master at creating illusions, or at least he had been until his unceremonious fall from favor and his body became a host for both a sliver of the Karsite Weave and a mind flayer parasite. He had been unable to create grand illusions since, though he had noticed his abilities strengthening as time had progressed, especially once the charm was placed on the orb to stabilize it. Evocation spells were his specialty, what he was known for, what was nurtured during his time as Chosen of Mystra - it was true there was nothing more useful than a fireball for a battle, but illusory spells were his true love, his passion. Manipulating the Weave in this way made him feel closer to an artist, a poet, or a musician than a warrior. He wanted to use his magic to bring beauty and wonder to the world.

He needed his illusions to be perfect tonight. Tonight was the night he was going to tell Ora that he loved her. He had wanted to shout it from the rooftops of the Last Light Inn after kissing her the previous night, he wanted to whisper it in her ear as she slept peacefully, he wanted to say it that morning when she forced him to go to his tent after sitting outside hers all night, he wanted to yell it in celebration when they worked on spells during the afternoon and she finally cracked Spike Growth after days of attempts on her own. 

Every artist needs their muse, and she was his. He channeled the Weave from his spot far enough away from their campsite to afford privacy. As the power hummed through his body, he thought of Ora. How she made him feel, how he felt with her, what reminded him of her - beauty and warmth and goodness. The threat of Moonrise Towers and Mystra’s demand settled over him but did not cause him to abandon his plans. He had to tell her. He squared his shoulders and got to work. 

******

“Hello, I’m here on behalf of Gale of Waterdeep!” The cheerful silvered mirror image of Gale said to Auroria as she walked up to his tent before going to bed for the night. “He wishes to extend you an invitation to a private conversation. Would you care to join him? From the portion of his mind that is open to me, it is a matter most urgent.”

“Well, when you put it like that, I don’t think I’m in a position to decline,” she said, her mind already racing with worry. Was the orb acting up again? Had he set his mind to following through with Mystra’s demand of his sacrifice? Would she no longer have the chance of saving him? The thought of losing him caused her heart to race, her stomach to drop, and threatened to bring tears to her eyes as she started down the path pointed out by Gale’s mirror image. Surely it couldn’t be something so serious - he had been in such a good mood after she made him sleep and then again after he helped her figure out what she was doing wrong when attempting to cast her newest spell. He had jumped up and thrown his arms around her when the ground started to erupt with spikes and thorns. She thought he might kiss her again, or at least she had hoped he would, but he pulled away and said something about needing to go read something to find her next spell. She hadn’t seen him since. 

The path through the thick forest led to a clearing bordered by a few downed trees and rocky formations. In the middle of it on a plush blanket sat Gale, intensely focused. She looked past him and up to the sky and gasped softly. Instead of the dim, colorless grey they had grown accustomed to over these past days there was a bright shining aurora, all shades of vibrant purple and green dancing across it. Stars sparkled in the distance and the grass in the clearing looked as green as it did in the forests where she grew up. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She stood at the edge of the clearing, watching Gale place more stars in the sky and let the tears that had gathered now freely fall down her face. How could a man who creates such beauty even think about sacrificing himself for what a goddess calls forgiveness? Her panic threatened to overwhelm her. She loved him. She couldn’t lose him. She had to tell him. Tonight. She wiped the tears from her face and walked over to sit on the blanket beside him. 

“I love this time of night,” he said softly, taking her hand in his, a movement that had become so natural for the both of them over the past weeks. “There’s a reverent silence that accompanies the peak of darkness, when you think the dawn will never break.” He threaded his fingers through hers and as he turned to look at her, she could have sworn the look on his face matched the one she had given the sky moments ago. He waved his free hand at his illusion. “The cradle of eternity…the timelessness of lovers.”

Auroria smiled softly and looked up at the sky, her eyes wide as the lights danced and the stars twinkled. “This is beautiful, Gale. I’ve never seen the sky do this - you’d almost forget we were in the Shadow Cursed Lands,” she said with breathless wonder.

He looked at the sky again. “It’s veiled, kept at arm’s length for now. This isn’t something I can do often in my present condition, but tonight is different. I feel the weight of Mystra’s demand on me, and with us going to Moonrise Towers tomorrow to infiltrate it, I can’t help but feel this may be one of my last nights alive. I wanted it to be under a canopy of beauty and wonder. And with company to match.”

Auroria frowned, hearing the sadness in his tone as if he had decided his fate. This is my last chance.  

“Is this truly, truly what you want? To sacrifice yourself for Mystra’s forgiveness?”

“My untimely death is all but assured. My days on this plane have been numbered since I opened that damned book. Would you not want your death to mean something?” He sighed. “I will admit I am terrified, no matter how well I try to conceal it.” He nodded, grim resolution on his face. “Better to meet the inevitable on my own terms.”

Auroria felt warm tears fall down her cheeks again as she nodded. “So you’ve decided, then.” She tried to wipe them away with the back of her hand but they wouldn’t stop coming, so she just let them fall. It was always easy for her to show her emotions with Gale. 

He looked over at her, touching her chin with a hooked finger, turning her face to his. “You know, one moment with you would satisfy me for a lifetime. And you’ve given me so many moments,  enough for infinite lifetimes. I’m happy you came out here to share this with me. I know it’s not real…but I created this all for you. You were the inspiration for all of this.”

“For me?” She gasped, her eyes snapping to his. “All of this? Why?”

He smiled softly at her. “You must know that you’re…that you’re special to me, Ora.” 

Her heart was pounding in her chest. Her breathing quickened. What was he saying? Could he feel the same? She thought, a small flicker of hope warming inside her.

He dropped his hand, going back to looking at the aurora for a short while in silence, a wistful look in his eyes. Finally, he spoke again. “If things were different, if we were home, I would take the time to do things properly. To say everything better. To give you everything you deserve, and more. But time is short.” 

He turned to face her again. His eyes were bright and shining with unshed tears.

“I am in love with you.” 

Everything faded away from Auroria at that moment. There was only the two of them - there was no shadow curse, there was no Absolute, no tadpole, no orb, no Mystra. No wizard, no ranger. There was just Gale and just Auroria. Two people who managed to find each other despite the fact that their paths never should have crossed. Two people who loved each other despite everything thrown against them.  

“I’m in love with you, too, Gale.”

******

Externally, Gale played it cool as he chuckled. “That’s a relief. It would be a shame to spend my final hours making an ass of myself.” Internally, he was in a state of disbelief. Ora was in love with him! He had wanted this, hoped she’d feel the same way as he did, but did not believe it possible that someone so fierce, so brave, with so much to live for would fall in love with him, not how he was now. Not with the orb, not with Mystra’s charge, not with his imminent demise. 

She leaned into him and kissed him, quieting his thoughts for the first time in what felt like years as he kissed her back softly. It felt different from their kiss the night before - less desperate, more real. He smiled as she broke the kiss. 

“You’re a good kisser,” she smiled back at him. 

“And you are a bad liar,” he laughed out loud. “I was basically a hermit for some time before I met you, remember?” 

“From one recluse to another, you’re a good kisser,” she said before she kissed him again, her hand on the back of his neck, pulling him closer to her. Her lips parted and his tongue slid against hers as they kissed much like the vision she shared with him all those weeks ago when they were connected through the Weave. A vision he never thought he’d be able to act upon. He broke the kiss and put one hand against her cheek, looking at her beautiful face as she smiled at him, his eyes flicking back and forth between hers, taking in the lush green that seemed to radiate even in the dark of the night with a golden glow. She loves me.

He wanted the night to be perfect. To show her all he could do with the Weave, their bodies and souls intertwining and bonding within its gentle fibers. He stood up excitedly, taking her hand and helping her up from the ground. “What do you say to the perfect night in Waterdeep for our first date?” He smiled. 

“I have always heard that Waterdeep is an exceptional city, though I can’t quite remember who told me that,” she teased. “Show me.”

He waved his hand, a faint purple glow enveloping the two of them. The aurora was replaced by his study in his tower. His favorite place in the entire universe - well, until he met Ora. Now his favorite place was by her side. Everything was just as he remembered it, even the messy assortment of parchments on the desk. The piano in the corner, the stacks and stacks of books. He could smell the paper if he concentrated hard enough. He looked back at Ora, who was taking it all in, her eyes wide and her mouth open in awe. 

“This is your study?” She asked. “It feels like I’m looking directly into your soul, all books and academia.” She smiled. 

She looked so at home in his study. He couldn’t wait to show her the real thing, after - No.

He interrupted his own thoughts. After? There would be no after, not for him. This was more than likely the last time he would ever lay eyes on his beloved study, his beloved tower, his beloved city, and it was all an illusion. Snap out of it. He wanted to show her all he could of him, of his life, before it all ended much, much too soon. 

“It is. The center of my universe. Now, for something even better.” He waved his hands, the doors to the balcony opening, the sun setting into the horizon, setting the sea awash in a fiery orange blaze, the entire illusion taking on a warm glow. As Ora stepped out onto the balcony, the sunset lit her up. Her hair burned even more coppery, the light made her eyes look even more green, even her freckles seemed to stand out more. Waterdeep suited her. Still, as he looked out over the horizon, melancholy washed over him. He missed his home. He was thankful to the tadpole for bringing him to Ora, but…he would never come home again. He would never see Tara or his mother again. Never walk the streets, never visit the market, never watch the ships sail from the docks. The sound of pages ruffling brought him back to the present. 

“You’ve found my favorite spot. I would sometimes find myself out here from evening to night to daybreak, lost in words.” 

“Up all night reading? What a rebel,” she laughed as she kept flicking through the pages of the book. “What’s this book?” she asked, handing it to him.

He laughed and took the book from her, one he had placed there on purpose. “This is The Art of the Night - about a newlywed king and queen’s first thousand nights together. They turned everything into an art - conversation, the exploration and acceptance of the self and the other, the art of the body, the night itself.” Here goes. “I say we take a page from their book.”

Ora raised an eyebrow at him. “Leave it to you to seduce someone with a book.” Gods, he loved how she teased him. She knew him so well. “But…I don’t see a bed.”

“The stars will be our bed. There are endless worlds out there, countless ways to declare love. Let me show you more,” he said. He wanted to show her all of the wonders of the universe, let her feel his love in infinite ways, not just within the confines of their mortal flesh. 

She put her hand on his face, looking at him adoringly. “I want to be with you, not a fantasy, not an illusion. I am in love with Gale.”

He paused. “Are you sure? I could use the Weave to make us feel sensations beyond our reckoning. I could wow you. I want to wow you, Ora.”

She smiled, taking his hands in hers. “This isn’t a test, Gale. You don’t have to impress me with these grand gestures to show off your abilities. I’m no goddess. I am in love with you .”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. “Yes, you are, Ora. Trust me, I would know.” He snapped his fingers, placing them back in the forest by camp, the aurora still dancing across the sky, the stars sparkling just for them. “Let’s do it your way then - the old ways. As long as it’s with you.” 

She kissed him as he waved his hand, conjuring a large bed. “For your comfort, of course.”

She laughed then. “I have been living in the wilds for almost my entire life, I’m pretty sure this bed is for your comfort.” She walked over to it, kicked off her slippers and climbed on, patting the mattress next to her. “Though, you will not hear me complain.”  

He smiled and walked to the bed, climbing onto it next to her, his calm exterior belying the chaos within him. His heart was racing with anticipation and his brain was moving a million miles a minute. It had been so long since he had been with anyone physically, since before becoming Mystra’s lover. Could he live up to her expectations? Would this all be a waste of time? Why did he even confess his feelings to her when he was just going to die in a few days time? His breathing picked up as he balanced on the knife’s edge of panic. 

“Gale?” He felt a warm touch on his hand. Ora . “Gale, come back to me,” she said, placing a tender kiss on his cheek, then a soft kiss on his lips. She was a balm to him - his mind quieted again, focusing only on her. He kissed her back and placed a hand on the side of her face, his thumb gently running over her cheek. 

“I apologize. My mind momentarily was…elsewhere. I am here now.” 

“Thinking about Mystra’s demand?” Her brows furrowed as they always did when Mystra was brought up, especially after Elminster came with his missive. 

“Yes.” He paused. “I must admit it is always on my mind. More so now even than before. To know that I’ve found you, and that you are in love with me as I am in love with you only to - ” His voice caught in his throat as tears formed in his eyes. “Only to have to leave you in a few days’ time…I must admit I am more terrified now than I was at the beginning of the night. I do not want to lose you, Ora. I do not want to leave you.” He smiled softly, tears spilling down his cheeks as he pictured what life could have been like with her in his tower, walking through the market each week, sunsets on the balcony, watching the Midwinter fireworks together.

She grasped his hand. “Then don’t, Gale. Stay with me. Live. Live with me.” She kissed him again, her own tears mingling with his. “Let’s live.” 

He nodded and closed his eyes, holding on to her hands tightly. She made it seem so simple, to just live . That she alone could defy a goddess’ machinations and find a way to circumvent his fate. Perhaps she could. He opened his eyes and found her staring at him, full of concern. This was not the direction he wanted this evening to go, and yet it only made him fall deeper in love with her. Made him want her even more, if that was possible. Made him want to believe the impossible. 

Stay. Live. Could I?

“Live,” she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.

Could I?

He kissed her deeply, pulling her close to him. Their tongues slid together again, finding a rhythm of push and pull as their hands roamed each other’s bodies, discovering a new closeness that they had been on the edge of for weeks now. She smelled faintly like the peppermint balm she massaged on her sore muscles after a long day of fighting or training. His fierce ranger. Her hands found their way to the bottom of his soft velvet tunic and grasped it, starting to pull it up. He broke the kiss to reach down and slid it off over his head. 

“Hells Gale, you’ve been hiding all of this? Doesn’t seem fair, really, to keep this secret,” she teased as she saw him without so much as an undershirt on for the first time, her eyes moving down the lean athletic build of his body and fine covering of hair on his chest and stomach. She reached down to the hem of her own sleep tunic, pulling it over her head. The filtered moonlight cast a pale silvery glow on her breasts and her nipples started to pebble and harden against the slight chill in the late night air. 

“I could say the same to you,” he said playfully in return. The scar on her cheek continued down past her collarbone almost to her left nipple, some areas thicker than others. He reached out and traced it with his fingers, pressing kisses into it as he followed his fingers with his mouth. A story for another time. Her breathing quickened as he reached his destination, taking the hard nipple in his mouth, sucking on it lightly as she gasped. 

Something in the air changed, a new electricity charged between them. 

“You’re so beautiful, Ora,” he said before moving to the other breast, giving it the attention it deserved. Her hands went to his head, running her fingers through his hair as she arched her back, pressing herself closer to him. 

“I want you, Gale,” She said, her voice thick with lust.

“And you’ll have me before the night is done,” he smiled against her soft skin, toying at her nipple with his tongue before pressing a hand to her chest, laying her back on the bed. His hands went to the waistband of her leggings, his fingers slipping inside and rubbing along the softness of her stomach. “I want to watch you come undone for me first.” She lifted her hips to help him easily slide the fabric off her legs. He kissed each inch of newly bared skin as he pulled them off of her before discarding them on the ground beside the bed.

He looked at her in wonder as she laid before him, fully bared. So beautiful, so perfect. She propped herself up on her elbows, tilting her head to the side. “Everything okay?”

He smiled. “Everything is perfect. How did I get so lucky?” He kissed her ankle. “You are so stunning.” He kissed her knee. “I will never be able to fully tell you just how heavenly you look right now lying in front of me with nothing on, illuminated by moonlight. My divine Ora.” He wanted to worship her, to bow down at the altar of her body for the rest of his time on this plane. He kissed her thigh, higher and higher as he placed himself between her legs, spreading them and baring her sweet center to him. He could resist no longer. He looked up at her from between her legs as he flattened his tongue and tasted her for the first time. Her moan was an answer to the prayers on his lips and music to his ears, her taste was the sweetest nectar. He hooked his arms under her thighs, pulling her down to his mouth as he flicked her sensitive bundle of nerves with his tongue before sealing his mouth over it, sucking softly. 

Her hips started to rock against his face as he hummed against her, sending vibrations through her body. He teased at her entrance with a finger, reveling in how warm and wet she was as he touched her. For him. Because of him. He paid special attention to that sensitive spot inside he remembered women liking from his dalliances years ago, before Mystra. No. No thoughts of Mystra tonight. 

He turned his mind back to Ora, this beautiful, writhing woman who lay before him, who wanted him, who loved him. He added a second finger and moved them faster, in and out, his firm tongue working her in tandem as he devoured her. She had moved her hands to his head, her nails delightfully scratching his scalp as waves of pleasure washed over her and she began to unravel. He was relentless in the pursuit of her undoing, keeping a steady pace with both his hand and his tongue as she cried out his name and he felt her pulse as she reached her peak and crashed over. He crawled over her, kissing up her stomach to her breasts again, taking each one into his mouth before moving up to her neck. He finally kissed her lips, impossibly turned on as she kissed him back, tasting herself on him. 

“My turn,” she said, smiling against his mouth as she pushed him onto his back, his desire clearly evident. She rubbed at his erection gently over his pants as she kissed his neck. Gods, I forgot how good that feels, he thought. He felt her starting to pull his pants down, and he lifted his hips off the bed to help her just as she did for him earlier. He was suddenly conscious about his body, wondering if it would be pleasing to her. His physical form hadn’t been important in matters of desire in so long, coming back to it made him feel like he was a teenager again, full of nerves and anticipation of learning what he liked. She wrapped her hand around him. He definitely liked that. 

“Gods, Ora,” He inhaled sharply as she touched him, the first mortal touch he had had in years. She kissed his orb marking softly, then traced down the line of his stomach with kisses. What was she….oh. OH. 

He rose up on his elbows, looking at her. “Ora, I don’t…are you sure? Please, don’t feel like you have to.” 

She smiled at him, her eyes soft. “Let me give you the pleasure you gave me. We are equals here, in this bed, in this relationship. No one is above the other. Besides, I enjoy doing this, just like you do. Let me take care of you. Allow me this,” she said as she leaned down, taking the tip of him in her mouth, sucking gently. 

Gale saw stars. He grasped at the bedsheets, the pleasure and desire coursing through him stronger than anything he had felt in so long, setting him ablaze. She took him deeper into her mouth, her head and hand working him in rhythm as she hummed against his hardness. His hips started to rock, moving with her as he moaned loudly. At this rate, it would not be long before he finished, and he wanted his first time to be inside her. 

“Ora, I need to be inside you, please,” he practically begged. He was at the mercy of her, of his new goddess. “Please, let me.”

“I want you, Gale,” she said. 

“Come here,” he smiled, guiding her up to him, a finger hooked under her chin as he kissed her deeply, laying her back on the bed. “I want to watch you, see you when I finish inside you,” he whispered in her ear before kissing her again.  

He used his thigh to spread her legs, running his fingers across her slick entrance before holding himself to her. His heart was pounding. He knew this was a line they could never uncross. It was a line he knew with absolute certainty he wanted to cross, but he had to be sure it was the same for her. 

“Are you sure you want this, Ora? Do you want me?”  He looked her in the eyes, his tip pressed against her. He needed to hear her say it. 

“I want you,” she repeated, closing her eyes and moaning softly as he pressed in, sinking into her. 

Every thought left his head as he felt her give around him, all warm and soft velvet against his hardness. He closed his eyes as he fully seated himself within her, staying still for a moment, reacquainting himself with this feeling - how had he ever derided this as “just” pleasures of the mortal flesh? This was everything. This was better than anything metaphysical. She had converted him. Astral pleasure could no longer compare to this. This was real. 

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, whispering his adoration to her. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her close, their bodies in complete contact as he began to thrust into her with slow, deep rolls of his hips, feeling every inch of her as he pulled almost all the way out and pressed fully back in again. Ora wrapped her arms around his back, her fingertips digging into his skin.

He pulled back, settling up on his knees between her legs. She looked so perfect laid out on her back before him, his length sheathed deep inside her. He continued his same slow rhythm, thrusting back into her a little harder than before, watching where their bodies joined in awe and wonder.

“Gale…you feel so…so good,” she moaned, her hands moving to his thighs, holding on to him, rocking her hips to meet his. 

“You feel better than any heavens, Ora. Better than I could have imagined all those nights I thought about taking you, imagining doing this with you.” He said, remembering the nights in his tent after his orb was stabilized where he pictured Ora in a similar position to the one she was currently in as he used his hand to pleasure himself. It didn’t even compare. 

He couldn’t hold back any longer, Desire, lust, and the discovery of how good sex with her could be drove him. He moved her legs so her feet were on his shoulders, and started thrusting into her deeper, faster. He kissed her calf, her ankle, the side of her foot, punctuating each kiss with a soft “I love you.”

His fingers dug into her hips as he grasped them to lift them up, allowing him to get even deeper inside her. He needed to be as deep as possible, as close to her as possible. He watched her. Her cheeks were flushed, her breasts bounced, her back arched against the bed as he hit a spot that drove her wild. He had once thought watching her fight was like watching an opera. Watching her while making love was like viewing the finest art. 

“I’m so close,” she panted. He felt her tightening around him, getting close as his own precipice drew near. 

“Come for me, Ora. I want to hear you call my name while I’m buried inside you,” he said as he reached between them and began rubbing her at her most sensitive spot, feeling her hips jerk at the slight touch. He felt her tighten around him, the feeling drawing him even closer as the fire in his abdomen grew hotter. “But look at me when you do.”

She opened her eyes, and just the sight of them darkened with desire almost sent him over the edge right then and there. 

She cried out, his name on her lips as her body froze and then shattered around him. He felt her shudder and pulse as her orgasm rocked through her. He kept thrusting through it, harder, faster, lost to his own finish as she held onto his arms tightly, her nails slightly digging in. 

He felt his abdomen tighten. He maintained eye contact and drove himself into her one last time as she nodded and writhed underneath him before he felt himself fill her with his own release, crying out her name loudly for all the gods to hear. Panting, he stayed buried within her as his orgasm shuddered through him. She was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and most of her hair was loosened from her twisted ponytail, and he could only imagine he looked similar. She looked so beautifully undone. 

Finally he pulled out of her, instantly feeling cold without her warmth enveloping him. He was changed, wholly and truly. He was a different man from earlier this evening. He crawled beside her and dropped to the bed, planting a kiss on her shoulder. 

“I love you, Ora.” 

“I love you, Gale.” 

******

Auroria curled into Gale, resting her head on his chest as they both came down from such blissful heights. She traced the lines of the orb marking as he lazily ran his fingers up and down her back. She felt herself drifting off to sleep when she heard it, the faintest whisper. 

“I will stay with you. I will live.”

[emmy-dekarios-bg3]

Heart of the Weave ~

chapter 1

[I am reposting my fanfic on here due to the fact it’s been edited! I am leaving out the first few paragraphs of chapter 1 due to it being all about the BG3 story. Link to my AO3 on my profile]

I awaken to the sun beaming through the glass windows, being reminded by the Earth that I’m still alive. I made it another day. I’m still not accustomed to being in an actual bed, for all the adventures I had involved sleeping outside, camping with the unknown around us. I’m thankful for being away from all the lurking dangers that thirsted for my death.

“Good morning, my love,” Gale says with the sleepiest voice, his face nuzzled into my neck as he spoons me in bed. I smile, feeling his comfort and warmth against my body in the earliest of mornings. “I hope you slept well.” His warm skin is pressed against mine, and it could honestly put me back to sleep. My eyes try to adjust to the morning light, focusing from the blur as I try to fully awaken.

“I’m…starting to,” I murmur, stretching my body as I turn to face him. I stare deep into his dark brown eyes which are heavily defined by his long lashes. I could stare into them all day. “How about you?”

“Oh, definitely the same. I wake up everyday thinking how happy I am, how lucky we are to be here. More importantly, I’m grateful we’re alive.” His hand is on my naked waist, holding me close to him. “Oh, how I wish we could participate in some romantic coitus right about now, but unfortunately, I have to be at the Academy in just a little over an hour. I slept in just a tad later than I anticipated.” I kiss his lips delicately and close my eyes, wishing he wasn’t leaving so soon. He has been doing some heavy research the past few days and coming up with new strategies to help his students learn magic, so having this time together, no matter how long it is, means the world to me.

“I understand completely. Maybe later, then. We are married after all and have all the time in the world.” He chuckles and proceeds to kiss my forehead. His tressym, Tara, flies in the room and nearly scares the daylights out of me. I’ve been living with Gale for a year and I’m still not used to his flying feline, though I absolutely adore her to no end. I never had cats, so it’s an adjustment for me.

“Oh, Professor Gale Dekarios, it’s time for you to get at it!” she says, landing on our bed. “I’m glad you two weren’t in the middle of…well, you know.” Gale and I look at each other, fighting laughter but blushing from mild embarrassment. Only once has Tara intruded on us and it was a moment I’ll never forget. That moment included her staring at us with eyes full of horror, but she didn’t want to turn away. Gale caught her, and she screamed, flying rapidly out of the room at high speeds.

“Yes, yes, Tara. I’m getting out of bed. Now shoo, I’m indecent and I’d rather you not look at me.” Tara flies out of the room, with Gale getting his naked body out of the bed shortly after. I am so thankful and blessed that this is my life now, and all the worries from before have faded away.

I’ve adjusted to Gale working at the Academy, and I love that he enjoys doing what he does. For ages, he’s always wanted to accomplish being a professor and teaching magic to others, and that it will be more recognized. He gets ready and begins to head out the door, but pauses for a moment to give me a kiss. The softness and perfection of his lips is enough to get me to go back to sleep, but I have to tend our garden.

“I hope your day is wonderful,” I tell him, staring into his eyes. He gently brushes my dark curly hair out of my face with his fingertips, smiling at me with contentment. The way he touches me, even after all this time of marriage, feels absolutely incredible. I can’t get enough of him. Stop it, Emmy. You will have time alone with him soon enough, it’s nearly the end of the week.

“And yours as well, my love. I will be back before you know it.” My heart already misses his body and soul as I watch him walk out the door.

Waterdeep is still quite an adjustment, but a wonderful one nonetheless. I grew up in a large city, constantly around big parades, circuses, and a bar at every corner. There were children performing magic outside, and vendors selling weapons all throughout the area. Waterdeep? Well, it’s quiet and serene, filled with vast opportunities for knowledge in the arcane and experiences as well. On top of that, it’s spacious and we don’t have to live too close to others, making it a wonderful time for me to start our own garden. I’d also like to point out that the crime rate is ridiculously low.

As Gale is gone for work, I head outside to attend to our garden, growing fresh fruits and vegetables that seem to be growing beautifully. I can smell the intensity of the fruity aroma lingering around in our garden. Our tomatoes and squash are finally grown so I can cook them with our dinner tonight. To the left of our home is the beach, where cobalt blue waters are peacefully residing, the clarity of waves putting my mind in a calm place. I suddenly remember about my strange fear of Krakens, but it hasn’t been as bad as I’m adjusting here with Gale. Waterdeep is much different from home in Baldur’s Gate. Then, out of nowhere, I begin to dissociate as I’m staring deep into the ocean waters. It seems trauma can’t seem to leave my mind. All I can see are the countless bodies I’ve seen, all the innocent lives lost to the Shadows, all the evil that found us no matter where we turned…and how many times I was resurrected from the clutches of death. Emmy, no. You saved Baldur’s Gate. You helped so many people. Think about the lives you’ve saved. I take a deep breath, thinking to myself that it’s all over. I won’t have to deal with that ever again.

Tara flies up next to me as I am harvesting the vegetables from the vines, admiring all the hard work I put into it. Her company fills me with joy, not only because she’s a talking feline, but because she’s so kind. Funny. Wholesome. Oh, and a good species to have for company overall. The very moment I met her I just knew we would get along.

“I know I don’t say it enough, but I am so glad you are part of this family! You are one of the very best things to ever happen to Gale. You’ve kept him alive. You have inspired him to come out of his shell. He’s no longer hungry for power, to become a God. He would’ve left me behind. Power gets the best of us, unfortunately. For that, you are the best to happen to me as well. Thank you.” Tara’s voice is full of gratitude and sincerity, making me love her even more than before. Such a delightful little pet.

“It’s good to hear those words, Tara. Thank you.” I stare deep into the distance where the ocean lies, noticing a strange calmness overwhelm my body as I relax from the tranquility of the environment. Serenity. Peace. That temporary clarity leads to sudden lightheadedness, as if the world around me is spinning aggressively and won’t stop. Every object, every part of nature in front of me, is all a blur and I’m afraid to stand up. I try but end up falling in the dirt. The vertigo only lasts a moment, and I believe it’s because I haven’t eaten yet today. The sudden shift from calmness to feeling extremely dizzy was rapid, making me feel just a little sick to my stomach. I realize shortly that I completely skipped breakfast and it’s almost the afternoon. Where did the time go?

“Emmy, m’dear, are you alright? I think you’ve harvested quite enough today. Plants are watered. The sunshine is out. Let’s go inside, get you some water to drink, hmm? Maybe some lunch?”

“You’re right. I need to eat something.” I don’t think anything of the strange feelings within me, so I manage to get up and walk inside to cook a delicious breakfast for Tara and myself.

[blackjackkent]

Lorroakan loot:

[fahrquad pointing meme] Athkatlan!

Interesting. The staff is pretty okay for Gale but the robe isn't really even that impressive, at least as compared to the Potent Robe we got from Alfira all the way back in Act 2. So that will go towards the HGS Potions Fund.

I was gonna talk with Rolan but he seems to have disappeared so I'm assuming he's back downstairs and we'll talk to him later? Quick look around the tower first though.

First interesting thing - a note confirming that Lorroakan was a bastard, in case anyone needed it:

[fahrquad pointing meme again] Sellout! Asshole! Liar!

Honestly I'm relieved because if it turned out that he really HAD found some way to use her magic without hurting her then all of this would have felt a lot more complicated than it does. XD

He also has tried to write a book about himself to submit to the "Wizards of Note" book series, apparently:

That's more or less all that's up here, so heading back downstairs...

OK, going back downstairs we are caught by one of Lorroakan's projections and once again ejected from the shop for "HABITUAL VIOLENCE." No sign of Rolan.

INVISIBILITY AND BACK UP TO THE TOWER AGAIN!

Aha there you are. How you doing, Rolan?

"Lorroakan is dead. The bastard is dead."

"Are you all right?"

"I am. Now that the bastard's in bits." There's none of Rolan's old cocky confidence now. He just sounds extremely tired and sad. "Lorroakan was a cruel and vicious man. By day, I'd tend the shop, but at night - he'd fire the most nonsensical questions at me. And for every one I answered 'wrong', he'd beat me."

A pause. He looks down at his own palms. "I could've killed him with my own two hands, but I kept thinking it was all a test. It had to be. I thought it was the price I had to pay to become a true wizard. I realize now he was just a sick, sick man..."

Poor guy. Hector is no stranger, by now, to the terrible things that people in this world are capable of doing to each other. But it never fails to strike him with new ferocity every time he encounters it. Rolan has been a blowhard at times, but he's a good man at heart, and he doesn't deserve how his desire to better himself has been taken advantage of.

"He's dead now," he says quietly. "It's over. And you've won."

Rolan smiles slightly, with a hint of his old air of confidence - though muted now with experience. "I have," he agrees. "With your considerable help." He looks around thoughtfully. "I see things clearly now. If I wish to master the Weave, I must do it myself. Thankfully, I have everything I need - right here."

Hector grins. That sounds more like the Rolan he knows, and cocky though it is, it's good to hear it back, even a little. What he's proposing -- to take Lorroakan's tower for himself -- is certainly aiming high, though. "You'll be challenged," he points out. "I'm sure there are others who want the tower."

Rolan laughs softly. "Let them come. I happened across a book on the tower's defenses, and they are considerable." He's visibly starting to come out of the shock of the battle now, growing more energized. "I'll move Cal and Lia in immediately. Lorroakan refused to let them stay here. The are going to love the tower."

He pauses, then looks at Hector intently for a moment. "I wouldn't have this - the tower, my family - without you," he adds, with a more earnest tone than Hector has ever heard from him before. "What can I do to thank you?"

Hector smiles. The other man's gratitude and respect is worth more than any reward to him, and in truth he never expected to truly earn it. Were there less at stake, he would demand nothing at all.

But very soon, he will need people to stand with him against the terrible threat on the horizon. And Rolan has more than proved himself, over the time they've known each other.

"The city is under siege, from the inside out. I need allies," he says soberly.

"And you'll have me," Rolan agrees at once, nodding. Given everything they've been through, Hector is more than a little impressed at the lack of even a moment's hesitation. "I'll learn everything I can about the tower in the meantime, even if I have to rip this place apart. But know this - Ramazith's Tower, and its master, are now your friends. And when the time comes, we will stand by you as allies."

[littlemourningstarr]

Dreamstate

Vette can't be sure why he agreed to leave his home in Secomber and follow Gale to Waterdeep- but he told himself the possibility of learning under such an accomplished wizard was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and he needed to take it. But Waterdeep is a completely different world, and Vette is forced to realize just how alone he has always been- and that, perhaps, he felt it was justly deserved.

Chapter 7: Take What You Want

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Gale x Original Male Character

Part of the Eternally Yours series!

Tags: Tags to be added as this journey continues, teacher-student relationship, fantasy racism, pining, emotional hurt/comfort, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, if you squint there is some past sexual trauma, masturbation, fluff, slight voyeurism, handjobs, blowjobs, just a touch of sugar baby treatment

“I really think it would work,” Vette said, as he and Gale entered the classroom. Students were already beginning to settle in, most chatting amongst themselves. “Drow have used their house insignia for teleportation for generations- there’s no reason I can’t figure out the intricacies behind it. Make teleportation easier.”

“You forget you have done it, without the aid of a glyph,” Gale pointed out, setting the tome he was carrying on his desk- from his personal library, for today’s lesson.

Vette clicked his tongue. “Okay, let me just get stabbed again every time I don’t want to walk.” Gale gawked at him, and Vette gave a smug grin, folding his arms. “Tressym got your tongue, Gale?”

The wizard’s eyers flashed, this playful glint sparkling in them, making the sorcerer’s belly go up in knots. He swore that he’d been in some sort of dance with Gale, all morning- hells, even the night before, after what he’d done, knowing his wizard had to be listening.

“Or is it just little old me that’s got it?” Vette added, watching in delight as Gale’s breath caught. He could do this. He could take the initiative. He could flirt.

He’d done it countless times in his life- it shouldn’t have been difficult. Except he liked Gale- really liked him- and there was a clawing fear in him of messing this up. He didn’t want him to just be gone after a few days-

He wanted to wake up with him, and know he wasn’t just going to breeze out of Vette’s life.

Before Vette could say more- or savor Gale’s reaction further- he heard his name being yelled from a cluster of seats, close to the front of the room. The student from yesterday was nearly leaning over the table, about to fall out of her seat, waving excitedly at him.

He arched a brow, a bit perplexed, and then he felt Gale’s hand on his back, giving him a very gentle push. “Looks like you’ve got a fan.” Another gentle push, and Vette was walking over, offering what felt like a strangely nervous smile.

“What you did yesterday was so cool,” the girl said, not moving from nearly laying on the table. Around her a few of the other students her age had clustered as well, were all chiming in.

How did you make it so cold?

Did you really fight a lich-vampire with Professor Dekarios?

Can you breathe fire?

The last one might have been offensive, once- but Vette found he was just laughing over it. It had been asked by the youngest student in the class- a small dwarf boy who, according to Gale, showed such aptitude with the weave that he was sure he’d be apprenticed to a well learned wizard before he was even ten.

“It’s complicated,” Vette offered, looking at the student that asked the first question. “I absolutely did,” to the second, and then- “And sadly no, I haven’t figured that one out yet.”

There was a round of laughter, and the first girl finally slid back into her seat, patting the chair next to her. “Sit with us,” she said, to a round of nods and pleases from the other students. Vette glanced up at the spot he normally took, apart from the students-

And then back at Gale, over his shoulder. The wizard was watching, a bemused, glorious smile on his face. He gave a single nod, and Vette settled down into the offered seat, as the students continued to bombard him with questions.

*

Vette spent most of the day entertaining the younger students’ questions. Some of them had even circled back to Gale’s classroom well after his lecture, crowding around Vette, vying for his attention.

It was a mindblowing feeling, the rush of sudden adoration- and gods, did he love it. Vette couldn’t push them away for a single moment, until finally it was late and Gale was shooing them off, telling them he had best see this type of enthusiasm tomorrow during his class.

Vette watched them all file out, giving them a little wave, as Gale tidied up the books on his desk. Vette went to reach for one, but Gale waved him off. “We’ll come back for them.”

“Back?” Vette asked, as Gale headed for the doorway to his classroom. The sorcerer followed into the spacious halls, crossing through one of the many courtyards the academy boasted. Currently there were two students quite engrossed in having a set of elementals utterly pulverize each other.

Vette was distracted for a moment, slowing his steps, before he realized Gale had gotten quite far ahead of him. He hurried after him, noting that the man had not answered his question yet.

They bypassed the entrance to the library tower, instead pausing as Gale unlocked a door across the hall from its entrance, fingers dragging along the air as brilliant blue sparks appeared- an invisible combination being accepted. The door clicked open, and Gale stepped in, motioning for Vette to follow.

The room seemed just like a small sitting room- a few chairs, a comfortable looking couch. “Did you just bring me into some secret professor’s lounge?” Vette teased, daring to reach out, grasp at Gale’s teaching robes. He’d meant to tug on them playful, but in the end he felt he’d simply given the image of a lost child, clutching at their protector.

“We don’t lock that,” Gale chided, leading him across the room to a shelf. He glanced along the books, pulling a few out in a precise order- Vette assumed even to precise distances- before it groaned, the shelf sliding along the wall, revealing a set of stairs. Gale began descending, Vette rushing to catch up, trying not to get too hung up on the whole secret bookshelf door thing.

The room they entered was circular- not overly large, the walls completely lined with shelves, slotted with books and scrolls. The floor itself seemed to pulse a soft blue, like dancing lights around their feet.

“What is this?” Vette asked, standing at the base of the stairs, looking around in sheer wonder. He swore he could feel the heat of the weave emanating from the books.

“The academy’s most prized books and scrolls,” Gale offered, walking across the room, pausing to touch the spine of an old book that had to be held together by sheer force of will alone. “Accessible only by certain staff.” Gale turned, added, “you can move, I promise the room won’t eat you alive. You’re with me.”

Vette crossed the room, not pausing a pace from Gale but moving right into his space. “So, you’re saying no one can just walk in on us…”

He trailed off, thinking of the way Gale had pressed into the crook of his neck that morning, while holding his coffee. He hadn’t kissed but gods he’d been a warm, solid presence, had made Vette’s knees so weak.

Gale didn’t answer- he didn’t need to. The little smirk, the glimmer to his eyes, it was enough. If Vette could just take the invitation.

How can I take care of you if you won’t take care of yourself?

How could Gale act on Vette’s desires if Vette couldn’t act on them himself?

He swallowed the lump in his throat, before he splayed a hand on Gale’s chest, pushing him back against the shelf. The wizard moved easily, not a single bone or muscle resisting, as Vette grabbed at the shelf with his other hand, pinning Gale between he and the furniture.

He did hesitate, another single breath, before he finally gathered the courage to close what little space was between them, his mouth finding Gale’s. For a moment, a single, aching, terrifying moment, Vette did wonder if Gale would push him away, if he had overstepped-

But his mentor grasped at his waist, pulling him flush to his chest, forcing the hand Vette had between them to fall away, grip at the bookshelves as well. Gale nipped at his lower lip, had Vette trembling in a moment, before his tongue was soothing the sting of his teeth. When it pushed into Vette’s mouth he gasped, inclining his head to give Gale better access, his hips canting forward.

Unlike the previous night, Gale didn’t hold himself back. He ground against Vette, nearly jerking him against him as he tried to pull him closer still. When the wizard broke from his mouth, he moved with purpose to Vette’s jaw, to nip at his pierced lobe, making him utterly quake.

“You’re allowed to take what you want from me,” Gale murmured, before his mouth moved along his neck, his pulse point.

Vette sucked at his lip, let his eyes fall shut for a moment. What did he want? Aside of this, of Gale’s mouth on his throat, his hands clutching at him, making his very bones ache with need-

His stomach flipped in excitement and nerves as he realized he wanted to see the wizard fall apart, to see him proud and blissed out.

He wanted what he had imagined, the night before…

Vette let go of the shelves, forced Gale to straighten up so he could kiss him again. He was pleased to let Gale lead, guide him on how to incline his head, move his tongue, as his hands slipped between them, sliding along Gale’s robes, opening them.

He could just feel the heat of him, through his clothing, as his hands skimmed down his belly, pausing at his pants, fingers working at the lacing, the ornate buttons there. Gale broke the kiss as Vette slipped a hand in. “Shouldn’t we be- ah,” he gasped, losing his train of thought as Vette’s hand cupped his cock through his underwear, cradled the hard bulge of it pressing to his palm. “Reversed?”

Vette licked his lips, managing to carefully stroke Gale just slightly, given the lack of room. “No,” he whispered, before he pulled his hand from Gale’s pants and dropped down to his knees. He pressed his face into Gale’s belly, nuzzled soft skin, the bit of fat that padded him now that he no longer needed to run around all of Faerŭn or attempt to impress a literal goddess, his hands tugging at the waistband of Gale’s underwear, desperately seeking his cock.

The wizard reached down, just as Vette freed him, his cock nearly brushing his lips as it bobbed free. When he glanced up as Gale’s fingers dragged along his jaw, saw the man watching him with the kindest stare he had ever seen anyone give him in his entire life.

His chest seized, a buzzing pain rushing through him as he felt like he could burst from his skin. Choosing to focus that energy, Vette leaned in slightly, placed a soft kiss to the side of Gale’s cock, cupping his shaft as he held his stare.

“I want to taste you,” Vette admitted, mind beginning to drown in the scent of Gale’s skin. His own cock ached, but he could ignore it. He would ignore it. “It’s what I thought about, last night.”

Gale’s eyes lit up in the blackest of flames, and Vette knew in that moment he had been right- that Gale had stayed, had listened to him bringing himself off. He grinned, couldn’t help it, before he turned, opened his mouth and let his tongue coyly flick at Gale’s cockhead. The wizard relaxed back against the shelf slightly, as Vette stroked him slowly, his other hand holding onto Gale’s hip- not to steady the wizard, but to steady himself.

He eased his cockhead past his lips, sucked gently, heard a pleased little breath leave his mentor. The salt of Gale’s precum overtook his senses, left him feeling thirsty. He swirled his tongue playfully, before easing down his shaft, his hand falling away until his nose was nestled in the dark brown curls at Gale’s groin.

The older man’s hips twitched, a breathy “by the gods,” leaving his mouth, as Vette swallowed around him, without a hint of choking.

This, Vette knew, he was good at.

He eased back, all the way off Gale’s cock, a bit of saliva connecting his lips to the glistening head of his cock. He could see a bit of flush growing along Gale’s cheeks.

He wanted to be witty, to feed him the sort of saccharine soaked line that would have Gale melting in his hand, but his mind was nothing but a buzzing storm of static. Forgoing words, Vette took Gale back into his mouth, moving in a steady rhythm, taking the man all the way to the back of his throat.

He heard the thunk of Gale’s head, hitting the shelf as he sagged back against it, his hips canting slowly, chasing Vette’s mouth every time he pulled back. He curled his fingers tightly to Gale’s hips, but instead of holding him back jerked them forward, forced the man’s cock to push at his throat, pin his tongue down. A breathy fuck! filled Vette’s head, before one of Gale’s hands was reaching down, stroking along the top of his head, to the point where his hair was tied back.

Vette squeezed his eyes shut, felt the corners growing wet as his jaw burned, slightly. He welcomed it, a distraction from how desperately his own cock was screaming for attention. Gods, he swore he was going to come completely untouched, like this, happily choking on Gale’s cock-

He squeezed his hips harder, pushed Gale firmly back against the shelves as he desperately swallowed him, over and over again, chasing his wizard’s orgasm with such a fervor one would think it was his own. He drank down each little noise Gale gave him, each panted breath and groan, every whimper until Gale was shuddering, pulling his head in close. The rush of cum over his tongue, against his throat, had Vette whining brokenly, trying to swallow it down, not wanting even a drop to leak past his lips.

The bitterness was divine, made him squeeze Gale’s hips with a bruising force. He felt the wizard petting his hair again, trying to guide Vette off him. The sorcerer relented, pulling back, jaw slack as he panted for breath.

He was barely aware of Gale tucking himself away, his mind spinning with a pulsing joy, blood buzzing under his skin-

But when Gale got down on the floor with him, gathered him up into his arms, he drifted back to the present. The wizard kissed him without hesitation- if he had a single care about Vette’s tongue tasting of his cum, he never once voiced it.

The half-drow wasn’t used to that. So many partners had refused a kiss after he’d brought them to orgasm. But then again, so many had been done with him the moment their afterglow cleared.

Gale cradled his face in one hand, the other between them, pushing at his student robes and then pressing to his groin. Vette bucked into his touch, as Gale pulled from his mouth, dragged his teeth along his throat. “Let me touch you,” he breathed, voice a bit hoarse, a rasp from his throat and chest. Vette was trembling, barely able to string together a thought as Gale got into his robes and then his pants, fingers tracing the bulge of his cock through his underwear.

Vette worried at his lip so hard he tasted blood, reaching for Gale’s shoulders and grasping on with a death grip. The wizard hushed him, soothed him with little kisses along his throat, as he rubbed along his clothed cock, teased at the head. There was a large damp spot pressed to it, the precum Vette was leaking embarrassing.

“Teasing you seems cruel,” Gale observed, even as he simply dragged a finger along the underside of his cock. Vette’s hips bucked almost violently. “Shh, shh, I’ve got you,” Gale soothed, moving to pull at the waistband of his underwear. The moment his hand was around Vette’s cock the half-drow was shaking, hips eagerly wriggling about as Gale stroked him slowly. “Gods your skin feels like fire.”

Gale lifted his head, moved to kiss Vette again. The room had completely phased out of reality, to Vette- there was nothing but Gale’s mouth, his sweet kisses, the bliss of his hand. Everything else had ceased to matter, to exist.

“Look how wet you got,” Gale said, against his lips, his tumb rolling over his cockhead. Vette’s cock was weeping, precum making Gale’s fingers slick. The sorcerer flushed, a heated color rising along his cheeks, as he buried his face into the crook of Gale’s neck, trying to hide away. “No, no, it’s good,” Gale cooed, still stroking slowly. “I want you to feel good.”

Vette kept himself buried in Gale’s neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne, his sweat, grounded by the scratch of his beard, when he tipped his face up slightly, kissed his jaw. Gale wrapped his other arm around him, cradled him close.

“Can you come for me?” he asked, and Vette found he was desperately nodding, as Gale’s hand sped up slightly. “That’s a good boy. Like this?” He twisted his fist around Vette’s cockhead, and Vette stifled a cry into Gale’s neck, had the wizard chuckling. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Gale kissed the top of his head, still whispering little sweet nothings to him, calling him his, doting on him with little whispers of you can do it, and let yourself go.

“That’s it.” His words came with such ease, as Vette felt the pleasure coiling almost painfully in his pelvis, grasping with hungry tendrils at his spine. When Vette came, it was with a broken sob into Gale’s throat, body trembling so hard he swore his bones were knocking together. And Gale was telling him he was good, he was so good.

Gale’s hand worked along his shaft through the orgasm, until Vette was boneless, collapsing against him in a heap. The wizard chuckled over it, carefully pulled his hand away as Vette began to squirm a bit, over stimulation making him hyper sensitive. Vette tipped his head back a little, just to have Gale press a lingering kiss to his temple.

“You did well,” he offered, as Vette rested his cheek on his shoulder.

“Was sucking you off an assignment, professor?” he teased, even as his heart fluttered over the praise. Gale gave a very undignified laugh.

“Brat. If you’d rather I stop talking-”

“Never.” It came so quickly that Vette couldn’t even try to keep the thought in. Wanting to bury the admission, he reached for Gale’s hand as he sat up, the room still swimming a bit, the afterglow a pulsing joy inside his muscles, his bones- and eased a few of Gale’s cum-sticky fingers into his mouth, over his tongue.

Gale’s eyelids fluttered as Vette sucked at them softly, rolled his tongue over them and tasted himself. He held the wizard’s stare, a silent promise that he would gladly put his mouth back to work if Gale so much as breathed even a hint of desire for that.

Gale pulled his fingers from Vette’s mouth, his other hand moving to his face, thumb rubbing along his cheek. “You little minx.” The half-drow offered a grin, before Gale pulled back, stood up slowly. He offered his clean hand down, the other dipping into his robe, wiping off Vette’s saliva, as the sorcerer accepted the hand and stood up slowly. He fumbled with his pants, as Gale turned, took a few steps away and paused at a shelf, grabbing a scroll. “Ah, here it is.”

Vette stared for a moment. “Wait, you mean you came down here for a reason. And not just to put us somewhere with a little privacy?”

The wizard turned to face him, amusement alight in his eyes. “Of course.” He waggled the scroll in his hand. “If you’re so intent on your teleportation glyphs, this spell will be quite useful. Besides, if I just wanted privacy for us, I would have taken us back to the tower.”

He moved up to Vette, kissed his cheek with a smile.

“This was very unplanned but most welcome.” Gale paused, before he added, “even if I was trying to take my time with you.”

Vette could only grin. “I don’t need to be wooed, Gale. Trust me.”

“Oh my dear, I could do more than woo you.” Gale grasped his waist again, pulled him in close. “I could wow you.”

The fact that Vette could laugh as Gale kissed him, could grin against the wizard’s mouth, was such a new feeling that his mind didn’t know how to comprehend it. All he knew was he felt good, felt safe-

Felt wanted.

[foxisscared]

A Meaningful Conversation

Gale Dekarios x Tiefling!Oc!Tav

A/N:Hi,so I have no idea what I'm doing, but I thought I'd give this a try with my Tav. His name is Amadius and he's a Tiefling Barbarian. Also I'm still trying to get a feeling for Gale's character so if you have any pointers please feel free to comment

Amadius was never one for idle company. He was not one for company at all, used to only relying on himself and not staying in one place long enough to forge meaningful relationships. Which is why this group unsettled him and the fact that he was automatically made leader further unnerved him. He was not used to having to care for this many people before and it showed. Even though he was considered their leader Amadius kept to himself, avoiding unnecessary chatter amongst party members, but there was one person who caught his eye.

The silly little wizard named Gale of Waterdeep who often chatted at him about things Amadius didn't quite understand, something Amadius didn't mind quite as much as he thought he would. He'd even come to expect the conversation, dare he say happily anticipated them. Today was no different Gale and Amadius sat around the campfire while Gale was cooking, Amadius looking brooding as always.

"Amadius, are you paying attention?" Gale asks as Amadius looked like he'd zoned out.

"Yes Gale, I am listening. I believe you were talking about certain incatricies of the weave, not that I understand any of it but I do find it quite interesting" He says, still not looking at the man. Gale looked surprised that anyone much less a barbarian such as himself was actually paying attention to him.

"I'd be more than happy to explain it to you. I can't remember the last time someone actually sat down and listened to what I have to say" Gale said with a chuckle but immediately quieted down noticing Amadius' far away look. "Are you okay Amadius?" He asked. "Far be it of me to demand you tell me what's wrong but I am here to support you" He said causing visible hesitation to form on Amadius' face

"Uhm... Its nothing, Gale. Its just very overwhelming going from living on your own for 20 years to leading a group of 6 people to defeat a world ending evil. I'm not used to this many people, much less leading them. I was never one for being emotionally invested and now I fear I'm more emotionally invested than ever" He says with vulnerability that seemed quite out of character for him

"Being on your own for 20 years sounds quite lonely" Gale says softly, looking at Amadius with a look Amadius couldnt quite place.

"Yeah well, that's just how things are. You go through life, prove your worth to those around you, and if you don't, you die alone. Once you disappoint enough people, you learn when to stop being a nusiance and just leave" Amadius said so casually it caught Gale off guard.

"Oh... Well... I am sure you'll prove more than valubale to our party, then there's no way you'll have to leave." Gale said awkwardly, causing Amadius to scoff and smile softly

"One can only hope." Amadius said softly glancing at Gale with an uncharacteristically soft smile. He really did hope he could prove useful, despite his best efforts he was growing quite attached to this little party and didn't want to disappoint them.

"Well... Enough depressing things for tonight, how about I finish up dinner and we eat around the campfire?" Gale says after clearing his throat as he went back to stirring the pot causing Amadius to chuckle.

"Yeah, lets do that... Then you can finally finish explaining the weave to me. Which by the way I still don't understand and I don't think I ever will understand" Amadius says causing Gale to laugh.

"Well that's what I'm here for, my friend" He said, and when the word friend left Gale's mouth, something melted in Amadius, causing him to tear up just the slightest.

"Yeah... I'd like that" Amadius said softly with a smile.

[moonselune]

Hello! I was wondering if you could write something with god Gale where Gale is being rude about their times as mortals and the reader just snaps at them? Reader goes full rant mode about all the little things they miss about being mortal. Like the feeling of the sun on their skin, or the smell just after it rains. Thanks a lot! I really love your writing! 💜

Yes yes yes yes yes I love this and I hope you do to and thank you so much!

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God!Gale x Reader | The little things

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In Gale’s domain, the air hummed with arcane energy, the very walls of his celestial realm pulsing in time with the weave itself. You had long since grown accustomed to the shimmering light that surrounded everything, a reflection of his immense power and the world he had shaped for himself—and now, for you. Everything here was perfect, pristine, and untouchable. But at times, that perfection felt like a cage.

Gale sat at his grand table, casually drumming his fingers on the polished surface as he reminisced about the days when you both had been mere mortals. His words were laced with thinly veiled disdain, his tone almost mocking.

"Mortality," he mused, his voice deep and measured. "Such a limited, tedious existence. The constant hunger, the frailty of the body, the fleetingness of time. I don’t know how we ever tolerated it for as long as we did."

You stood beside him, your back stiffening as his words grated against you. You had heard this before—how he reveled in his godhood, in the transcendence of all the things that had once made life real, tangible. He spoke as though being mortal had been a burden, something to be discarded like a worn-out cloak. But for you, it wasn’t that simple. The more he went on, the tighter the knot in your chest became, and finally, something inside you snapped.

“You don’t know how we tolerated it?” you cut in sharply, your voice rising as you turned to face him, the frustration you’d been holding back for centuries bubbling to the surface. “How about because it was real, Gale? Everything meant something. You talk about mortality like it was some kind of curse, but do you even remember what it felt like?”

Gale blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden outburst, his dark eyes narrowing slightly.

“Of course I do,” he said, his tone measured but slightly defensive. “But I’ve evolved past—”

“No, you don’t,” you interrupted, your voice trembling with emotion now. “You’ve forgotten. You’ve forgotten all the little things that made life worth living.”

You stepped closer to him, your eyes burning with unshed tears of frustration. “You’ve forgotten what it felt like to have the sun warm your skin on a crisp morning. Or the smell of the earth just after it rained, when everything felt fresh and new. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel the grass between your toes, or to stand in the breeze and just—breathe.”

Gale sat up straighter, his brow furrowing as he opened his mouth to speak, but you didn’t let him.

“You’ve forgotten what it felt like to get lost in a book for hours, to feel tiredness settle in your bones at the end of the day after doing something meaningful. Or even just the taste of food after being hungry, or that first sip of wine that warms you from the inside out. You miss the beauty in the fleetingness of it all! You miss—” Your voice cracked, and you took a shaky breath before continuing. “You miss the simple joy of being alive. Of being human.”

Gale’s expression shifted, the amusement gone from his face now, replaced by something more guarded—perhaps even regretful. But still, he remained silent, his gaze fixed on you as if trying to comprehend the weight of your words.

“And sure,” you continued, your voice softer now but no less impassioned, “maybe we don’t have to worry about those things anymore. We don’t feel hunger, or fatigue, or pain. But we’ve lost something too, Gale. We’ve lost the very things that made us who we were. The things that made life real.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, the rawness of your emotions leaving you exposed. “You can sit here and talk about how much better it is to be a god, how much more powerful and perfect it is—but I miss being mortal. I miss the imperfection, the fleetingness, the moments that mattered because we knew they wouldn’t last.”

For a long moment, silence hung between the two of you, the tension in the air palpable. Gale’s gaze softened, his godly aura dimming slightly as he absorbed your words. He looked away, his hands stilling on the table as if the gravity of what you had said weighed heavy on him.

“I never… thought of it that way,” he finally said, his voice quieter, less certain than before. “You’re right. I’ve been too focused on what we’ve gained, and I’ve forgotten what we left behind.”

You swallowed hard, trying to tamp down the storm of emotions that had erupted from deep inside you.

“We didn’t just leave it behind, Gale,” you whispered. “We lost it.”

He rose from his seat, stepping toward you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to see the world through your perspective. Slowly, he reached out, taking your hand in his, the warmth of his touch grounding you.

“I never meant to diminish what we had,” he said softly. “I only wanted to protect you, to give you everything.”

You shook your head, the tears finally spilling over. “I don’t want everything,” you whispered. “I just want something. Something real.”

For the first time in what felt like centuries, Gale seemed to falter, his divine confidence wavering. He drew you into his arms, holding you close, and for a brief moment, it felt almost mortal—almost human.

“I’ll try,” he murmured into your hair, his voice tinged with an unfamiliar vulnerability. “I’ll try to remember. For you.”

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A little god gale piece for you all, I hope you enjoy it !! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[weavewilled]

❛WHERE DID YOU LEARN TO DO THAT?❜ (TEACH HIM SOME MAGIC. HE'S TOO PROUD TO ASK) ↳ magic worlds prompts ( accepting ) / @ramaziths

GALE HAS HAD A CONNECTION TO THE WEAVE FOR AS LONG AS HE CAN REMEMBER. Even when he was but a small child, some of his first memories are tinged with magic — it has, quite literally, been his life. He barely remembers where he learned to do many of the things that come as second nature these days. 

Startled, he lets the illusion fall, wisping out of existence with a faint crackle. ❝ Oh, sorry, I didn’t hear anyone coming up, ❞ and he sounds a shade embarrassed, as though caught on his heels. ❝ It’s something I’ve put a lot of my own personal touch into, ❞ he admits. ❝ And if we’re being honest, it doesn’t serve a lot of practical application. It’s just —— creating art, in a way, with the Weave. ❞

There’s a pause, and he regards the other wizard with a thoughtful eye. He was this, once — young, talented, too proud. It both feels like a lifetime ago and feels like yesterday, but that’s neither here nor there; he smiles, faintly. ❝ —— would you like to see how to do it? ❞

[nobodyssoldier]

i. a web weaving

ii. digging deeper

name: dominique weasley

age: 26

former house: hufflepuff

blood status: 1/8 veela

face claim: serena motola

allegiance: the knights of the round table

gender & pronouns: cis woman, she/her

little butterfly, you emerged from your chrysalis with heavy wings — beauty was your inheritance and your curse. you grew up wrapped in love, in your mother's laugh like silver bells and your father's hands steady as heartbeats, but somehow still yearning for more, always more. in a family where everyone burned like stars, you learned early to shine brighter just to be seen among your constellation of cousins. you danced through life like a music box ballerina caught in eternal spin, always en pointe, always performing, always terrified to stumble. perfect, perfect, perfect — you whispered the words like prayer, repeated them like mantra. your childhood was spent before mirrors, watching yourself become something delicate and lovely as spun sugar, something that could drift away in the breeze like dandelion wishes. you learned the art of being wanted: the perfect tilt of your head, the right moment to laugh, the way to make yourself shimmer. what was the point of life if you could not be beautiful? did you still exist if no one was looking at you, if you were not being admired or loved?

you weren't brave like your cousins, weren't fierce or clever — their hearts beat like lions while yours fluttered like a bird caught in golden cage. you were the girl who stayed soft when the world demanded sharp edges, who chose gentleness when others reached for steel. in crowded rooms, you filled silences with chatter like spring rain, played the bright & bubbly & optimistic thing they craved, sparkled so brilliantly no one could see the sorrow that hid beneath your smile. you became an expert at deflection, turning heavy moments light as feathers in the wind, spinning grief into laughter because wasn't that what everyone wanted from you? life was but an endless performance and you were a dancer desperate for applause.

but love — love remains your greatest weakness and deepest hunger, an emptiness within you, hollow as a ribcage picked clean by years of giving yourself away. you fall too fast, too hard, giving yourself away piece by shining piece until there's nothing left but outline and echo, until you're transparent as gossamer wings held up to sunlight. night after night, you lose yourself in romance novels, dreaming of a love that won't leave you hollow, that won't treat you like a pretty thing to be admired and discarded. how desperately you want to be someone's everything, how completely you reshape yourself for the promise of being loved. your bed has known too many strangers who only wanted your beauty, never staying to learn your depths. each morning, you gather yourself back together with practiced hands and pretend the abyss within you doesn't echo with all the words you've swallowed, all the versions of yourself you've tried to be.

in war, you're a hummingbird caught in a hurricane, beating your fragile wings against the endless gale, against a darkness that threatens to devour everything soft and bright in the world. you're not made for fighting — your magic wilts like a flower when asked to harm; your hands shake like autumn leaves at the thought of casting curses. but still you come to meetings, because family means everything, even when terror threatens to swallow you whole. there's strength in that, though you don't see it — strength in staying gentle while the world turns cruel as midwinter, in choosing love when love has left you scarred as trees struck by lightning, in facing yourself in the mirror each morning and choosing to live despite. you are learning, slowly, surely, to find worth in more than reflection, to value the softness that others mistake for weakness. and though some may call you naive and callow, despite everything (despite despite despite), you still believe in the power that comes from gentle love and sweet softness.

iii. connections

one. FLEUR WEASLEY , mother — you go to the bathroom to apply the lipstick, somewhere no one can find you. your teeth look brittle against the deep red slickness. you smile like an infant, your mouth is a wound. you look nothing like your mother. you look everything like your mother.

two. DANTE MULCIBER , hopeless pining — i would stay up late with him just for a glimpse of his warmth. maybe he would reach for my knee in a moment when he forgot himself. these tepid exchanges, few and far between, always felt like victory.

three. ANJALI BROWN-PATIL, AMARA BROWN-PATIL & CAOIMHE FINNIGAN-THOMAS , best friends — no one trains us to shield our hearts from each other. with girls, it’s total vulnerability from the beginning. our skin is bare and soft.

four. YVETTE ZABINI , rivals — - CORDELIA: You know, after all we've been through tonight, this whole who-gets-to-be-queen-capade seems pretty… - BUFFY: … damn important. - CORDELIA: Oh yeah.

[pixel7777]

Threefold Returns - Chapter 3/16

The naughty version of the beautiful artwork commissioned from the incredible misfitlunatic (https://x.com/misfit_lunatik or https://bsky.app/profile/misfitlunatik.bsky.social) can be seen in all its glory here.

See Ch. 1 for work summary and content tags. Read this chapter below the break here or on AO3!

Gale

The blue light pulsed through his room, a heartbeat of magic that made his teeth ache. Gale pressed his palms against his temples, but it did nothing to quiet Mystra's fury.

How dare you let them in? After everything I gave you—

"Tara invited them." His voice cracked. He hadn't spoken aloud in days. "I didn't—"

You could have sent them away. Instead you stand there, staring at him like a lost puppy. At her, like she's salvation.

The bed was right there. Just a few steps. His body felt leaden, his mind foggy with exhaustion. But every time he closed his eyes, she was there. Waiting.

Did you think I wouldn't notice how your heart rate picked up when he touched your arm? When she looked at you with pity?

"It wasn't pity." But the words came out weak, uncertain. The memory of Astarion's concerned frown, of Zel's sharp intake of breath when she saw him, burned like acid.

The Weave twisted around him, through him, its familiar song turned discordant. Or had it always been discordant, and he just hadn't noticed? Sometimes he thought he could hear something beneath Mystra's voice, something older, something—

Pain lanced through his skull.

Don't. You know better than to look there.

He stumbled, caught himself against the wall. The stone was cool beneath his fingers, grounding. Real. Was it real? The tower kept shifting, responding to his distress, and he couldn't tell anymore what was his magic and what was hers.

They can't help you. You're mine. You've always been mine.

"I rejected you," he whispered, but the words held no strength. "I chose—"

And look how well that worked out. Holding onto your pride while everything you touch turns to ash. They'll leave. They always leave.

Gale slid down the wall, drawing his knees to his chest. He wanted to believe they'd stay. That somehow their presence would make a difference. But hope was dangerous. Hope gave her leverage.

The blue light pulsed again, and he could almost feel her fingers in his hair, her lips against his ear.

My beautiful, foolish Gale. What chance do they have against a goddess?

A flicker of movement caught Gale's eye. Astarion stood in front of him, arms crossed, one elegant eyebrow raised. How long had he been there? Gale's throat tightened. Had he spoken aloud?

Get rid of him.

"You should go." The words came out rough, unconvincing.

"Mm, I think not." Astarion strode past him to the wardrobe, throwing the doors wide. "Really, darling, is everything you own made of scratchy wool? No wonder you look so uncomfortable."

Gale blinked. The room wavered, Mystra's blue light casting strange shadows. "What are you—"

"Looking for something that won't make my eyes bleed." Astarion rifled through the hanging clothes. "Honestly, you dress like you're actively trying to repel company."

Time slipped. The world blurred. When it settled again, Gale found himself seated before his vanity. In the mirror, his reflection stared back—hollow-eyed, beard unkempt. Bits of hair vanished, trimmed away by invisible hands.

Astarion knelt before him, impossibly close, impossibly beautiful. The vampire's fingers were cool against Gale's jaw as he tilted his head, precise and careful with the razor to define the edges of Gale's beard. But the mirror showed only empty air where he should be.

Gale's tired mind couldn't quite grasp it. Vampire. No reflection. The knowledge was there, but processing it felt like trying to catch smoke.

He doesn't belong here. Make him leave.

Mystra's voice crackled through his skull like lightning, and everything went dark.

Gale blinked against the darkness. The world shifted, and suddenly he was chest-deep in warm water, steam rising around him. His back pressed against smooth porcelain, and gentle fingers worked through his hair.

"—absolutely criminal, letting such lovely hair get into this state." Astarion's voice came from behind him, close to his ear. "When was the last time you even used proper soap?"

The question floated past him, irrelevant in the face of those miraculous fingers working against his scalp. Each stroke sent tingles down his spine, and he found himself leaning into the touch.

"I've always envied this color," Astarion continued, separating strands with careful precision. "Like dark honey. And so thick. Though gods know how you've managed not to go bald, treating it like this."

Gale waited for Mystra's voice to cut through the moment, for the blue light to steal his consciousness again. But there was only the lap of water against the tub, the soft scritch of Astarion's nails against his scalp, and the sweet-herb scent of whatever soap the vampire was using.

"Tilt back," Astarion instructed, one cool hand supporting Gale's neck. "Let me rinse."

Warm water cascaded over his head, and Gale sighed. He should have felt exposed, vulnerable—he was naked in a bath with Astarion, of all people, fully clothed kneeling behind the tub. But exhaustion had stripped away any capacity for embarrassment, and the gentle attention felt too good to question.

"There." Astarion's fingers combed through his hair, checking for tangles. "Much better. Though we'll need to do something about these split ends."

Astarion's hand dipped into the water, testing the temperature. "Getting a bit cool." He reached past Gale to turn the tap, and fresh heat swirled around Gale's legs. "Can you manage the rest yourself? Or shall I—"

"I can." Gale's voice came out steadier than before. The fog in his mind had thinned, replaced by an almost painful clarity.

"Here, then." Astarion pressed a cloth and bar of soap into his hands. The soap smelled of cedar and something else—clove, perhaps. "I'll fetched the towels and a robe."

Gale waited until Astarion turned away before working up a lather between his hands. The simple act of washing felt profound, as if each sweep of the cloth carried away more than just dirt. His skin tingled where soap and water touched it, and his thoughts grew sharper, cleaner.

The pain started small—just a twinge between his eyebrows. He waited for Mystra's voice, for the familiar surge of magic that usually accompanied these headaches. But there was only the splash of water, the rustle of fabric as Astarion searched through cabinets, and blessed silence in his mind.

He scrubbed his arms, his chest, watching rivulets of soap spiral down into the bathwater. The ache in his head intensified, but without Mystra's presence, it felt almost ordinary. Just pain. He could work through that.

By the time he finished washing, the water had grown cloudy with soap and whatever darkness he'd managed to wash away. His head throbbed, but his thoughts remained his own.

Gale gripped the edge of the tub, preparing to stand. His muscles trembled with the effort, and the room tilted alarmingly. Shame burned through him—when had he become so weak? His last proper meal felt like a distant memory, and his usual morning exercises had fallen away weeks ago.

Before he could struggle further, Astarion was there, one arm extended. No smirk, no suggestive glance—just steady support as Gale grasped his forearm. The vampire's skin was cool and dry against his water-wrinkled fingers.

In one smooth motion, Astarion helped him up and wrapped a thick towel around his shoulders. Another towel lay on the floor, and Gale focused on that small kindness as he stepped carefully over the lip of the tub.

The tears came without warning. One moment he was steady, if weak, and the next he was sobbing against Astarion's chest, the silk of his friend's shirt growing damp beneath his face. Astarion's arms came around him, solid and sure, asking nothing.

Blue light flickered at the edges of his vision—Mystra, trying to push through. But the raw ache in his chest, the force of his tears, seemed to hold her at bay. Each sob felt like breaking free of chains he hadn't known he wore.

Astarion said nothing, just held him until the storm passed. Then, with the same quiet efficiency he'd shown all evening, he helped Gale into a soft robe and guided him back to the vanity.

The steady stroke of the comb through his hair anchored him. Astarion sectioned off strands with practiced ease, trimming away damage with precise snips of the scissors.

The scissors stilled. "Is she gone? For the moment?"

Gale closed his eyes, testing the edges of his consciousness. The familiar pressure remained—a weight against his thoughts, like water pressing against a dam. "She's never gone. But I'm...more myself right now." His voice sounded rough, unused. "How did you know to come?"

"Zel." Astarion resumed trimming, and they both laughed—a shared understanding of how their brilliant alchemist operated.

"I should apologize. Earlier, I—" The words tangled in Gale's throat. Everything still felt slightly sideways, his usual eloquence buried under layers of exhaustion and magical interference. "I wasn't...that is, when you arrived..."

"If we don't know how long the goddess will stay quiet," Astarion interrupted, setting the scissors aside, "perhaps we can skip the apology nonsense and be practical." He moved to stand in front of Gale, red eyes sharp and focused. "Is there anything Zel and I can do to put an end to this?"

The direct question cut through some of the fog in Gale's mind. He tried to organize his thoughts, to push past the automatic resistance that rose whenever he considered telling anyone what he'd seen while wearing the Crown. "I'm not sure. There's something I learned, something she doesn't want me to remember. Every time I get close to it—" Pain lanced through his skull, and he pressed his fingers against his temples.

"What if Zel could make you forget?" Astarion's fingers worked a light hair oil steadily through Gale's damp hair. "Some alchemical solution to wipe away whatever knowledge Mystra's so desperate to keep buried?"

The suggestion sent ice through Gale's veins. He tried to examine the idea logically, to weigh the benefits against the costs, but something deep in his mind rebelled. "No. No, I—I can't forget. Whatever this is, it's important." The certainty of that felt like the only solid thing in his world right now.

Astarion hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and gathered the top section of Gale's hair with practiced movements. In the mirror, Gale watched his familiar half-updo take shape under the vampire's careful attention. Bits of trimmed hair disappeared from the floor without a whisper, and Gale felt the Tower's quiet satisfaction at being helpful.

"There." Astarion secured the last strand and stepped back to admire his work. "Now you look almost presentable." He guided Gale out of the steamy bathroom and into the bedroom, where—when had those appeared?—soft sleep clothes lay folded on the bed. The deep blue fabric caught what little light remained in the room.

"Two minutes," Astarion announced, heading for the door. "Get dressed and meet me on the balcony for tea. If you're not there, I'll come back in after you, and neither of us wants that embarrassment, do we?"

The light threat carried real weight beneath its playful tone. Gale recognized it for what it was—both joke and promise, wrapped in Astarion's particular brand of protective instinct.

The moment the door closed behind him, Mystra's whispers crept back.

He can't protect you forever.

Gale's hands shook as he reached for the clothes, but he forced himself to focus on each movement. One leg, then the other. Arms through sleeves. The soft fabric settled against his skin like armor.

You're only prolonging the inevitable.

He tied the drawstring with deliberate precision and walked toward the balcony door. Each step felt like pushing through deep water, but he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of faltering.

The balcony doors opened at his approach, and the night air swept away some of Mystra's lingering presence. Astarion lounged in one of two comfortable chairs that definitely hadn't been there earlier, a tea service arranged on a small table between them. The smell of fresh bread and honey hit Gale's nose, and his stomach cramped with sudden, sharp hunger.

"Sit." Astarion gestured to the empty chair. "Zel's neck-deep in your library already, muttering about resonance frequencies and metaphysical anchors. I left her arranging books into elaborate patterns on the floor." He poured tea into a delicate cup. "Milk? Sugar?"

"Both." Gale's voice cracked. When had he last eaten? Days? Weeks?

Astarion prepared the tea with careful precision, then pushed a plate of simple butter biscuits closer. "She's convinced there's a solution in those dusty tomes of yours. Something about breaking magical bonds without destroying the bound element." He paused. "She also threatened to burn down half of Waterdeep if that's what it took, but I assume that was hyperbole. Well, probably."

Gale took a biscuit with trembling fingers. The first bite nearly undid him—fresh butter, just a hint of salt. His body remembered hunger all at once.

Astarion kept talking, describing Zel's increasingly creative threats against various deities, while Gale ate. The simple kindness of it—letting him eat without having to respond—made his throat tight.

They fell silent as Gale finished his tea. Below them, Waterdeep spread out in a tapestry of lights, while behind them, the steady crash of waves against the cliffs marked time like a heartbeat.

"Why didn't you send for us?" Astarion's voice was quiet, almost gentle. "When it started getting bad?"

Gale traced the rim of his empty cup. "Pride." The admission tasted bitter. "I thought I could handle it. That she would..." He laughed, hollow. "That she would take no for an answer."

"That," Astarion said flatly, "was objectively stupid of you." He refilled Gale's tea. "Once a rapey bitch, always a rapey bitch. Gods, I thought you were meant to be the clever one."

Gale slumped in his chair. "You're right, of course." The admission came easier than he'd expected. "I should have contacted you both immediately."

"And?" Astarion prompted, a familiar smirk playing at his lips.

"And I was an idiot."

"There we are." Astarion settled back, satisfied. "Now, since we've established that you're not actually as clever as we all pretend you are, shall we discuss how we're going to make your divine stalker fuck off permanently?"

Gale's fingers tightened around his teacup. "And how exactly do you propose we fight a goddess?"

The laugh that burst from Astarion was sharp and delighted. "Oh, darling. You mean like Vlaakith? Word is Lae'zel finally ended her less than a week ago." He ticked off points on elegant fingers. "Or like Shar? Shadowheart is still standing without her, although, admittedly, with far too many animals in that little house of hers. The Dead Three?" His grin widened. "Need I continue? Defying the gods is so On Brand for us, we should probably have a logo embroidered on all our clothes."

Gale looked down at his magically refilled teacup, watching ripples form in the dark liquid. Astarion wasn't wrong—their little band did have a habit of toppling divine beings. But Mystra was different. The others had been weak, or divided, or...

He kept his eyes on his cup, avoiding Astarion's searching gaze. Speaking the thought felt dangerous, as if giving voice to his doubts might make them more real. Or worse, might give her more power over him.

"So we fight," Astarion continued, leaning forward. "We always fight. First order of business—getting you back into fighting shape." He gestured at the empty plate. "You've got some food in you now. Is that brain of yours working any better?"

Gale tried to focus, to think past the automatic patterns his mind had fallen into over these past weeks. Every thought felt wrapped in cotton, dulled by the constant effort of deflecting Mystra's attention or soothing her demands. He opened his mouth, closed it again.

"I—" The admission stuck in his throat. "I'm not sure I know how anymore. To think clearly, that is."

"Nonsense." Astarion's tone brooked no argument. "Stop trying to solve everything at once. Something small. Give me something small to work with."

Gale forced himself to consider the evening, to examine the patterns. One observation kept surfacing, but he hesitated to voice it. It felt too much like weakness, like failure.

"She hasn't spoken," he said finally, the words barely above a whisper. "When you're here, she's... quieter." His shoulders hunched. "I know that's not exactly helpful—"

"On the contrary." Astarion's eyes gleamed. "That's exactly the kind of detail we need. Something concrete, something we can use."

But Gale shook his head. "I can't ask you to—" He gestured helplessly. "To what, stand guard? It's pathetic."

The laughter caught Gale off guard. Astarion threw his head back, shoulders shaking, genuine mirth spilling from him in waves. The sound echoed across the balcony, bright and unfettered. Gale waited, bewildered, as Astarion tried and failed several times to compose himself.

"Oh gods," Astarion wheezed, wiping at his eyes. "You cannot tell Zel about this conversation. She'll never let me live it down."

Gale frowned. "I don't understand what's so amusing."

"Of course you don't." Astarion's grin turned wicked. "You weren't there for her... shall we say, creative suggestion about how to handle your situation with Mystra." He leaned forward, eyes dancing. "Our brilliant alchemist was quite convinced that I could, and I quote, 'put a man's soul back in through his cock.' She wanted me to shock you out of your funk by sucking you off."

Heat rushed to Gale's face. "She what?"

"Oh, don't worry." Astarion waved a hand. "You're perfectly safe from any unwanted attention from me. It's just..." He dissolved into fresh laughter. "When she finds out my first line of defense against your goddess will be sleeping in your bed, she's going to have an absolute field day with it."

Gale's mind raced, suddenly sharp and focused in a way it hadn't been for weeks. Zel had suggested—and Astarion had just said—

"I would never," he stammered, gripping his teacup like a shield. "Your relationship with Zel is—that is to say, I deeply respect—"

"Oh, do calm down." Astarion's eyes glittered with barely suppressed mirth. "Of course you wouldn't. But Zel would. And so would I, for that matter." He crossed one leg over the other, settling back in his chair. "As I recall, you were the one who rejected our proposal for a more... interesting arrangement. Not Zel, and certainly not me."

The memory hit Gale like a splash of cold water. That night at camp, when Zel had suggested they didn't have to choose. When she'd offered a solution that would let them all—

"So while her suggestion was perhaps inappropriate, given your current state," Astarion continued, "it wasn't exactly coming from nowhere." He pressed his lips together, clearly fighting another laugh. "Though I do apologize for shocking you. That wasn't quite my intent." His expression softened slightly. "If it helps, we won't tell her this conversation happened. Especially if the shock actually helped. It would only encourage her particular brand of problem-solving."

Gale's mind betrayed him, conjuring an image of Astarion on his knees, that perfect mouth— He jerked away from the thought, shame burning through him. Here was his friend, who had endured centuries of abuse, offering genuine help, and Gale's traitorous imagination reduced him to—no. Just no.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. Whatever Astarion's current views on intimacy might be, Gale refused to entertain such thoughts. He was traditional in his approach to relationships, even if that hadn't exactly worked out well with Mystra. Or anyone else, really.

The silence stretched, and Gale realized Astarion was watching him with an odd, knowing expression. Heat crept up his neck.

"I'll be a perfect gentleman, I assure you." Astarion's voice held a mix of amusement and something softer. "But what you need right now more than anything is sleep." He rose from his chair with fluid grace. "And I'll be damned if I let Mystra keep you from rest just because our alchemist made things awkward. Again."

Astarion rose, brushing invisible dust from his clothes. "I'll return shortly. Just need to change and inform Zel not to wait up." He paused at the balcony door. "Try not to let any goddesses in while I'm gone."

The moment Astarion disappeared inside, Mystra's presence pressed against Gale's mind like cold silk.

He can't protect you forever. You're mine. You've always been mine.

Gale gripped the arms of his chair, focusing on the solid wood beneath his fingers. The voice grew louder, accompanied by that familiar blue light that made everything swim at the edges of his vision.

Let me in. Let me show you what you really are.

He needed sleep. Real sleep, not the half-conscious state he'd been drifting in and out of for weeks. If that meant accepting Astarion's help—well, hadn't he already admitted to being an idiot for not asking for help sooner?

And Astarion, of all people, understood consent better than most. Two centuries of having his own agency stripped away had left him meticulous about respecting others' boundaries. Whatever Zel's suggestions might have been, Astarion wouldn't—

The thought of Zel's proposal heated his face again, but he pushed it aside. This wasn't about that. This was about getting enough rest to think clearly again.

The balcony door opened, and Mystra's presence receded like morning mist. Astarion stepped out wearing dark silk pajamas, his hair slightly mussed from changing.

"Zel says to tell you she's going to solve this if she has to rewrite the laws of magic themselves." Astarion's mouth quirked. "I left her surrounded by floating formulae and muttering about resonance matrices."

The pressure in Gale's head eased further. His vampiric knight in shining silk armor, he thought, and had to suppress a smile at the absurdity of it all.

Gale followed Astarion back into the bedroom, where the Tower had already turned down the covers. The massive bed—had it always been this large?—dominated the room, its dark blue linens fresh and inviting.

"Left or right?" Astarion asked, his tone carefully neutral.

"Right." Gale moved to his preferred side, grateful for the lack of commentary. No jokes about getting him into bed, no suggestive remarks about sleeping arrangements. Just Astarion, being uncharacteristically... careful.

The mattress dipped as they settled in, leaving plenty of space between them. Gale's body recognized the familiar comfort of his own bed, even as his mind registered the strange newness of sharing it. The Tower dimmed the lights without being asked.

This delicate treatment should have irritated him more. He wasn't made of glass, after all. Tomorrow, when he'd had proper rest, he'd tell Astarion exactly where to shove his careful consideration. Tomorrow, he'd be himself again, and Astarion would return to his usual sharp-tongued self, and everything would make sense again.

But for now...

The constant tension in Gale's shoulders began to ease. His eyes grew heavy. The quiet sound of Astarion breathing—did vampires need to breathe?—became a steady rhythm in the darkness.

Sleep pulled at him, deep and insistent. For the first time in weeks, Gale didn't fight it, somehow sure Mystra would leave his dreams be.