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i-cant-sing · 9 months ago

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TIME TRAVELER AU PT 2

Original post/idea here. Part 1 is here. Part 3 is here.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

I fucked up.

You thought as you sat on the bed, holding your head in your hands.

I fucked up so baaaaaad.

Not only have you healed Baldwin of his leprosy, forever changing history of the LEPER KING, but also managed to somehow be his bride. To make matters EVEN worse, you cant just up and leave right now because you dont know the disastrous effects it'll have on the future now that Baldwin wont die of leprosy, which means that the kingdom of Jerusalem wont fall to Salauddin and his muslim army and after that its just a domino effect.

You tried to view your options here.

I stay here, marry Baldwin and fuck up the fabric of time and space because how can someone from the future marry someone from the past? Wouldnt I cease to exist?

I leave, return to my time where authorities arrest me for fucking around with time- that is, if I even exist in the future now that I've altered history. Who knows if my ancestors survived/were born after this?

No. Neither option is good. I need to stay here and fix this. But in a way that i dont draw too much attention to myself so that im so insignificant that nobody remembers, let alone writes about me in the history books.

You were drawn out of your thoughts with someone knocking on your door. "Come in." You said, straightening yourself.

A couple of servants walked in, all women. "Princess Y/n." They all courtesied. "We've been sent here by his majesty to prepare you for dinner with him."

Princess? Ah yes. Only a couple of hours ago, Baldwin had proposed to you, I guess the concept of asking wasnt a thing here as he just slipped on the big beautiful ring on your finger.

You narrowed your eyes at them. "First of all, Im not a princess. You will address me as Y/n only. And secondly, Im not going to join him for dinner, so there's no need to prepare me" The maids all shared a look of confusion before the head servant spoke.

"But we cant address you as anything else until you wed the king, after which you will be our queen, princess."

"Didnt I just tell you not to call me princess? Just call me Y/n!" The head maid shook her head. "Princess, we can not do that. If we do, then we would be punished. And we must prepare you for dinner with his majesty!" The maids moved ahead to start helping you but you raised a hand, halting them.

"I said, no." You said sternly.

"What... what will we tell the king, princess? He's expecting you-"

"Tell him i cant come because Im sic- no, Im not feeling well and Id like to be alone." You cant say "sick" in this era, because that means "death sentence" here and you dont want to be fretted over and bring attention to yourself as "the king's fiancee got SICK!". Besides, you do need to be away from Baldwin as much as possible and have some time to plot your moves.

You had pulled out your notebook and began writing out dates and historic events of this era to plan your escape. You're trying to find some sort of shortcut where Baldwin gets sick again and dies, leaving his kingdom in the hands of his sister and brother in law, who will bring its downfall-

Someone knocked on your door gently. "Princess?" You quickly hid your notebook. "Come in."

Baldwin walked inside and towards you, eyes worried as they scanned you up and down.

"I heard you're not feeling well?" He asked and before you had a chance to back away, he had cupped your cheeks in his hands tenderly. "What's wrong? Shall I fetch the royal physician?"

"No." You replied with your face smushed in his hands. "I'm fine." You pulled your face away his large hands.

Confusion spread through his blue orbs. "Then why did you not join me for dinner?" He asked, using a hand to push your hair over your ear, not taking the hint that you didn't want him touching you.

"I just-" what possible excuse could you come up with that would be both effective and not insulting enough to have your head chopped off. "you- you dont care about me."

Baldwin looked at you in bewilderment. "I dont... care about you? Princess, how can you say that?" He tried to cup your cheek again but you backed away before he could, putting on a face of hurt.

"How can I not? You dont care about what I want, or even ask me what I need?" You feingned pain in your voice, turning away from him for dramatic effect.

He grabbed your shoulders and turned you towards him, his pupils grew wide as if trying to search for what it is that you need. "My love, what do you want? Just say the word, and I'll give it to you."

You looked down, again for the theatrics, and Baldwin lifted your chin. "Go on."

"You never- never asked me to marry you."

"Huh? But I did today-"

"No, you stated it- demanded I marry you." You furrowed your brows and looked down again.

Baldwin smiled. Of course, how could he have not asked you? You were a girl after all, you want to be courted the traditional way. Its not your fault that you dont know that kings do not ask permission for things. They just get it, because who would refuse to marry a king?

He kissed your forehead, lifting your chin again to meet his eyes. "Im sorry, princess. I shouldve asked." He took your hands in his and had that charming smile again. "Will you marry me, Y/n?"

"No." You shook your head. "I... I cant marry you, your majesty." You said, adding tears into your eyes. His brows furrowed in concern.

"What? Why?" You tried pulling your hands away but he didnt let go, tightening his grip ever so slightly.

"I-" well, you could say that youre not catholic and the church would never let you two get married, but you also dont wanna be tortured for being a "heretic". Maybe religious differences could be the last plan. Taking your silence as hesitance, Baldwin spoke. "I can offer you everything and more. Jerusalem would be yours. What is it that I lack that anyone else could offer?"

"I am not a good match for you!" Ah yes, lets do the typical "its not you, its me." You bit your lip as you yanked your hands out of his and walked towards the window, your back to him (theatrics). "You and I are not equals- no we are nowhere close! Youre a king, your father was a king, your family is royalty. I come from nothing, as did my ancestors. There will never be stability in our marriage when we come from such different backgrounds!" You never thought that you would be putting yourself down and call yourself "inferior" to break up with a man.

Silence hung in the air, as you held your breath.

"Youre right." You heard him say behind you. "We are not equals, we never will be." For some reason, instead of being relieved, a chill ran down your spine. Baldwin wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder. "I may be a king, but youre far superior to me. You're an angel, sent to me by God, and you saved me. I wouldnt be king anymore if you werent here, princess."

Warmth spread from your cheeks to the tip of your ears, both due to the close proximity and his words. Sensing your bashfulness, he chuckled, kissing your cheek as he turned you around to face him. You could hear your own heart beat at how close he was.

Baldwin tilted his head, half lidded eyes staring at you. "Youre everything and more that I could ask for, princess. Never put yourself down and compare yourself to me, hm?" He said, giving your arms a gentle squeeze before moving away, but not detaching himself completely as he took ahold of your hand and looked back at you.

"Now that this is settled, let us go eat. I've had the servants prepare a feast for us and then we can discuss wedding arrangements-" shit shit shit shit shit fuck it!

"I'm not catholic!" Baldwin halted at that. You've already said it, might as well dig yourself a deeper hole. You let the tears form in your eyes. "Im... Muslim. I didnt tell you because I didnt want you to think I was working for Salauddin and spying on you for him, you know I wasnt! I really did only want to know about you. Please believe me, I wasnt-"

"I believe you."

What? Just like that.

"You- you believe me?" You breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you. Once again, Im sorry i didnt tell you I was a Muslim, but dont worry, I'll pack my things and leave tonight-"

"Why? We still have to get married."

You blinked slowly. "But... Im Muslim?"

Baldwin shrugged. "So? It doesnt change anything."

You looked at him in bafflement. "It does! It changes everything! We cant get married! Im a Muslim! The church wont allow interfaith marriages, and I dont intend on converting to catholicism either if thats what youre suggesting!"

"I am not suggesting that. You can be a muslim if you want to, but we're still getting married." Baldwin stated matter of factly.

"The church wont allow it-"

"The church will do as I say. I am the head of the church. Besides-" He smiled.

"I dont remember angels having to prove themselves to be a catholic. You saved my life, you cured my incurable disease. As far as the church is concerned, youre a miracle sent to me by God. Youre the Chosen One!"

Is he... is he hearing himself? Can you try to convince him?

"But... but Jerusalem deserves a Catholic Queen-" you tried weakly, but he cupped your cheek and smiled gently at you.

"I am Jerusalem, Y/n. And I deserve you." Was all he said before pecking your forehead.

He tugged you along with him. "Now, we have to eat."

You dont want to eat. You want to stay behind and think of another strategy because clearly you cant talk yourself out of this wedding.

"I'm- I'm not hungry." You said, making him frown.

"How is that possible? You havent had anything since morning. I dont want you getting sick before the wedding." Baldwin continued to pull you along.

Does he not listen?

"I dont want to eat- I- dont feel like it." You said a bit harshly this time, hoping he'd take the hint.

And he did, finally stopping. He sighed and let go of your hand. "Okay. I suppose if you really dont want to, we can skip dinner tonight." Fucking finally. "Its just... I seem to have developed a habit of enjoying meals with you. And now that my leprosy is cured and I have no more diet restrictions, I just- I had the kitchen prepare some of my favourite dishes that I was able to enjoy before my disease disabled me."

You stared at him. Is he- is he trying to guilt trip you? Baldwin once told you that due to leprosy he had ulcers in his mouth, and he couldnt eat different types of food, and was only able to have bland, soft goo.

You looked away from his big sad eyes. He's not getting to you. You need to go back to your room, make yourself scarce, be far away from him as often as possible.

"You can still go and eat dinner alone."

With one hand, he cupped your cheek. "Princess, you know I cant eat until you eat too. But its okay, if you dont want to eat, then I wont too. I guess I'll just have the servants finish the chicken roast and oh-! They even made strawberry cream cake for dessert. But- maybe another day."

You looked into his eyes, those blue orbs that were filled with sadness, resembling a kid who was just told "no candy!"

Sighing, you held his hand. "Maybe I can have a few bites."

His face lit up. Ah, he knew you'd come around. "Lets go!"

The next day, youre helped by the maids to get ready for the day. Apparently, Sibylla wanted to meet you and discuss some things, and you suspect she wants to talk about the wedding preprations.

The maids had prepared your bath and were very insistent on washing you themselves but you made them all leave the bath chambers. Finally, they compromised when you told them that they could dress you up if they wait outside.

Setting your old clothes on the bed, you entered the bathroom and settled into the warm water. The essential oils and flower petals soothed your mind and body, and you finally had some desperately needed silence to hear your own thoughts.

Last night at dinner, Baldwin was very- well, "happy" would be an understatement to how he felt near you. And all those forehead kisses and skin contact doesnt go unnoticed by you either. You suppose that since he had leprosy, he never really had or was allowed to touch anyone else. But now that hes cured, all thanks to your dumb ass, he craves the physical intimacy.

You closed your eyes as you sank deeper into the warm water. Gosh, did I really have to give him the water? Had I not done that, he would still be ridden with lepro-

Your eyes snapped open. Thats it. You just have to make sure he never drank your water in the first place! Yes! You can go back in time and sure, its always dangerous to go back in the same time period more than once, but you really dont have any other option now, do you?

After half an hour, you finally exited the bathroom and the maids practically ushered you to sit in the chair as they finally, FINALLY got to dress up the future queen of Jerusalem and after a whole hour, they're finally done. And... well you look good. Your hair has been done nicely, and a delicate golden headpiece, almost like a elegant hair band sits on top of your head. They added some color to your cheeks and lips with crushed berries. As for your clothes, they dressed you in a dark blue tunic with loose, flowing sleeves. The tunic itself was made of silk, probably brought in from the Byzantine empire and was only available to the upperclass of this time.

"I am not wearing those!" You said when they opened the jewellery boxes. There were diamonds and other precious stones adorning the earrings and necklaces.

"But princess, you must wear these. It is royal protocol for the king's bride to be, and the future queen to wear the royal jewels." The head maid said. She doesnt know that you dont plan on sticking around and if you leave wearing these jewels, who knows what havoc would that cause?

"No. I dont want to wear them."

The maids shared a look of concern. "What?" You asked them.

"Its just... his majesty picked these out for you himself. He would be mad at us if you were not wearing these." One of the younger servants spoke as she fumbled with her fingers. Through the mirror, you looked at everyone's worried expression. You doubt that someone as calm and collected as Baldwin would lose his marbles over his fiancee not wearing jewellery.

"I dont think the king would be mad at you if I dont wear some jewellery. He isnt one to get angry that easily, you know?" You said chuckling, but it died when you saw them share the same concerned looks again. This time, you turned away from the mirror to look at them directly. "What? Go on, no secrets."

Another maid mustered up the courage to mumble. "Well- it's just- the king- I mean- his majesty is calm but um-" she paused to look at the other maids for help but they all avoided eye contact. "Out with it." You said a bit sternly.

"His majesty... gets... emotional- yes, emotional! When it comes to matters concerning you."

"Emotional? What do you mean? Speak clearly, no word will get out of this room, I promise." You spoke all while glaring at the other maids to make them silently comply to not tattle on their friend.

The maid bit her lip. "His majesty... gets mad when he thinks that you're not being treated well." You gave her a look to continue. "A few weeks back, while you were strolling out in the garden, his majesty reprimanded some of his knights for not escorting you. He asked them why they weren't guarding you?"

A few weeks back? It may have made some sense for Baldwin to be protective of his bride to be, but you two weren't engaged until yesterday. And before that, his relationship with you was barely platonic, more like a king-servant thing.

"Tell her about the kitchen incident too." Another maid whispered.

"What kitchen incident?"

"Um, 2 months ago, when the kitchen had prepared a feast for his majesty, he almost fired the entire kitchen staff for serving olives with the entree." You gave them a quizzical look. "Well, his majesty had told them that you can't eat olives and had told them not to include it in the palace's food. But it was a feast to celebrate his victory and the staff thought it'd be best to add olives because the king likes them."

Your eyes widened at that. He almost fired the kitchen staff because you said you can't eat olives? I mean, it's not like you're deathly allergic, you just didn't like how tart they were and when Baldwin saw you picking them out on your plate, all you could manage to blurt out was that you can't eat them. Perhaps, he thought you had diet restrictions like him.

You huffed. That still didnt warrant such a reaction from him. "That isn't nice. Don't worry, I'll talk to him."

The maid looked at you in horror. "No! I mean, his majesty would not like that we- um..." she tried to come up with appropriate words that wouldn't be insulting. Her scrunched up face as she thought hard made you giggle.

"Fine, fine. I won't say anything to him. You have my word." You said, smiling at them assuringly.

The head maid then held out the pearl necklace to you. You sighed and nodded, and they all cheered as they started picking out the jewels for you.

Its okay. You told yourself. I can always drop them somewhere before time travelling.

As soon as you were dressed, one of Sibylla's lady-in-waiting came to fetch you. She hurried you, saying something along the lines of "you must see princess Sibylla right away!" And you couldn't stop her from pulling you along, so time travelling will have to wait.

"Princess Sibylla needs to see you right away, princess!" The maid said as she pulled you towards a room. Knocking on it, the door swung open and you were met with the sight of different gowns hanging on dummies with maids tending to them, and right in the center of the room was Sibylla, practically jumping on her heels.

"Y/n!" She yelled out as she ran towards you and engulfed you in a hug before her lady in waiting, the same one standing beside you, cleared her throat. It caught Sibylla's attention who gasped softly before backing away and immeadiately giving you a courtesy. "I mean, princess Y/n." You gave a nasty look to the lady in waiting before shaking your head at an embarrassed Sibylla. "You don't need to courtesy to me, princess Sibylla."

She immeadiately beamed. "Of course I do! You're not going to be just my sister in law, you're also going to be Queen of Jerusalem! Of course i bow to you."

Me, a queen? Yeah, we'll see about that.

"Still, I consider us friends before anything else." You offerer her a small smile. "You called for me?"

"Oh? Oh, yes!" She immeadiately grabbed your hand and pulled you further into the room. "I didn't know what colours and material you preferred, so I ordered them to bring everything with the best seamstresses in kingdom!" She pointed at the seamstresses, who bowed to you.

"But... I don't need clothes. I already have a wardrobe." Your statement made Sibylla laugh as did a few of her hand maidens.

"Ahh, you're so naive!" Sibylla giggled. "That wardrobe doesn't exist anymore. You're a princess, soon to be queen, you need a royal wardrobe!" She said as she dragged her hand over one of the gowns, feeling the material. "And! You still have to select your bridal gown!"

For the next 3 hours, Sibylla had the maids show you different gowns and materials, even helping by giving her input as to what would suit you.

"I still like my old clothes, they're quite comfortable." You sighed. Designing your new wardrobe was not something that needed your urgent attention at the moment. You need to return to your room and get the time machine from your old dress and leave this era.

Sibylla nods. "I understand what you're going through. I still remember how they burned away my entire wardrobe when I married Guy. But I suppose its poetic in a way. Since you're starting a new life, so why not start one by getting new clothes!"

Wait.

"They burnt all your old clothes?" Sibylla nods. "Mmhmm! In a way, you're burning away your past! And starting a new-" You didn't stick around as you immeadiately rushed out of the room and made your way towards your own.

You can't- your old clothes has your time machine. If they burn it, you can't ever leave!

You burst into your room, looking at the empty spot on your bed where you'd left your clothes before going in the bath.

"No." The maids, they must've put it in your closet. You searched it, searched your entire room but to no avail.

A maid walked into your room, watching you tear apart the bedroom. "P-princess? May I help-"

"Where are my clothes?!" You walked upto her, the poor maid's fright apparently on her face. "WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES!?"

"They- they're burning it-"

"WHERE?!"

"The gardens!"

You ran out of your room, and made your way towards the royal gardens as fast as you could, but with how huge this palace was, getting there took a while. Not to mention when you did get to the gardens, you didn't spot anyone there, but you did notice the smell of something burning, which lead you to the back of the gardens, that was away from everyone's sight.

There you found them, two maids burning your clothes in a small bonfire.

"PUT IT OUT!" You yelled as you rushed towards them, startling them.

"Princess-" they began bowing.

"Didn't you hear me? PUT THE FIRE OUT!" They scrambled about trying to find some water, but of course, they didn't have it.

"I'll get it from the fountain!" The two maids ran to get a bucket of water for you, but it would be too late by the time they came. So when you spotted your old dress burning, you pulled it out with bare hands, not caring about burning yourself.

The dress was mostly burnt to ashes, while only few bits remained that were still on fire. You managed to wrangle out your time machine out of it, the small metal box that was burning hot and left marks on your skin as you tried to hold it.

But even from here, you could see the damage was done. The area that displayed the year had now completely melted off, as did some of the buttons.

No. No. No. No. No. NO!

You couldn't help but cry as reality began to set in. You're stuck here.... you're stuck here forever.

Heart wrenching sobs wracked your body as you tried to hold the hot metal machine in your hands, your skin burning as you tried. Even when the servants came and poured the water on the fire, you still kept on crying, clutching your machine to your chest, partly to conceal it, partly from helplessness.

The maids looked at each in worry as they tried to console you, tried to pacify you, lest you had them executed. But it didn't matter, you were inconsolable. While one of the maids sat by your side, trying to soothe you, the other one ran in to get help.

Moments later, when you were able to hide the machine in your clothes again, someone came up and touched your shoulder from behind.

"Y/n?" You looked up through your tears. It was Baldwin. For some reason, seeing him only made you cry harder as you finally realised that you were stuck here with him. That you fucked up permanently.

"Oh princess. What's wrong? Don't cry- shhh, I'm here." He pulled your body towards him, letting you sob into his chest heartbreakingly. Exhaustion, frustration and shock must have overtook your body, as you fainted in his arms.

"Princess? Y/n?" He tried waking you up before collecting you in his arms and rushing back into the castle.

Hours later, you woke up to find yourself back in your room, lying in your bed. Your eyes looked down at your hands which were now wrapped in bandages. They only served as a reminder of what youd lost- your time machine.

Tears welled up in your eyes again. Am I- am I really stuck here? You sniffled.

A hand came up to caress your cheek, startling you.

It was Baldwin. "Princess? Do you want to tell me what happened?" His soft tone made you even more sad, and you raised your bandaged hands to wipe your tears, but he caught your wrists and lowered them back gently, using his own hands to wipe away the tears.

"No, you cant use your hands for sometime. The burns need to heal." His hand remained on your cheek, thumb caressing the area under your eye. "What happened, Y/n? Why were you so upset?"

You cant avoid the topic for long, and now that your way of escape is gone, you need to be careful of what you say and how you act around the king.

You let out a shaky breath. "They... they burned my clothes."

"Mmhm. Dont worry, I will have them bring in the fanciest clothes for you. Sibylla will make sure of it. Only the best for my princess." You shook your head. "Its not- its not that... They were my clothes... they burned away-"

"I know... but its a tradition. The maids burn away the bride-to-be's old clothes to signify that youre detaching yourself from the past and starting a new life." He explained, watching as you sniffled. Clearly, you were still upset over this.

"But the maids, they still should've informed you of this tradition before doing anything. I know how emotional of a transition this could be for girls." You nodded sadly, heart still sinking at the loss of your machine. "Dont worry though, they will be punished harshly for it. I have them in the dungeons tonight, and tomorrow-"

"What? Punished? No!" You cut him off. You dont want anyone to die because of you, especially when you dont know if anyone these people could potentially be an ancestor of yours.

"But they caused you harm. You burned yourself due to their-"

"No, no. Please, don't punish anyone- I- it was my fault for not knowing about royal traditions! Please, your Majesty, I beg you- don't do this- i- i-" You pleaded.

"Shhh, okay. Okay. I won't punish them for it." He patted your hair. "On one condition."

You looked at him in confusion.

"You call me Baldwin from now on." He grinned. "We are to be husband and wife soon, I don't want us to use royal titles with each other."

Your eyes widened. Is he- is he really giving up titles? You're not that blind to see his attempts at intimacy, but what you don't understand is why or even how you came to be on the receiving end of it.

What exactly is it about you that has made him want to marry you? Surely, Baldwin would've preferred to marry someone of this era, someone who is more compatible with him. Despite you trying to blend in the past months, you allowed Baldwin to see how you're not... as Conservative as most people of this time period are. One could say that he may be impressed by how intelligent you are than others, but it also brings up the factor of being "threatened" or "insulted" by the same intelligence.

Even though you consider beauty to be a "subjective" thing, the whole "beauty is in the eye of the beholder", you're not blind to how attractive others are. So why not them?

Did he only like you because you're intriguing? Does he still think you're a spy? Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer?

Probably. Or maybe he really does believe all that mumbo jumbo about you being "an angel sent to save him."

"As you wish... Baldwin."

Last night, after Baldwin had left you to rest, you stayed up and tried to figure out if you can fix your time machine, and if not, then can you built another one?

Fucking hell. You closed your eyes. I made it once, I can build it again. But it's easier said than done.

Back in the present, you had the technology to build it. Now? You have to first make the technology and the tools from scratch before you could even get on making your time machine, all while keeping your science project discrete, which was easier before because you weren't going to be married to a fucking King!

Right now, you're sitting in Baldwin's private dining room (yes, there are more than one dining room. He's royalty, what did you expect) having breakfast- well, being fed breakfast.

"You really don't need to do this." You said as Baldwin fed you another spoonful. He smiled as he wiped your lips with a napkin. "I don't need to, I want to. Besides, I don't want my princess starving."

Involuntary, your face flushed. "I- the maids could've fed me. And im not a princess." He frowned slightly. "Why would you- open wide, princess- why would you want the maids to feed you when you have me?" He pushed the spoon to your face as you parted your lips, but then he pulled it away and brought his face close to yours. "Do I make you nervous?"

You backed away immediately. "I- no- I mean-"

He burst out laughing. "I'm- I'm sorry princess, but you are just too endearing!" Baldwin chuckled as he grabbed the spoon again and fed you.

Your cheeks reddened, this time more out anger than embarrassment. "I don't want to eat anymore." You muttered, turning your face away.

He smiled as he brought the spoon to your lips again. "Ah ah, but you still haven't had enough." However, you rejected again, looking away instead of replying.

He sighed, placing the spoon back on the plate. "I'm sorry, princess. I shouldn't have laughed at you."

"You shouldn't have." You mumbled, face still turned away from him.

His lips quirked up a bit. "You know, for someone who insists that she's not a princess-" He turned your face to him gently. "- you sure have all the blandishment of one."

"Blandishment?"

"Flattering actions of a princess." He nodded.

You frowned. "Are you calling me a spoiled princess? A brat?"

"I would never!" Baldwin gasped. "I enjoy you acting like royalty, demanding respect and attention. You deserve it and more. Besides-" He picked up some food on the spoon again and brought it to your lips. "Even if if you were a spoiled, bratty princess, I wouldn't mind. I would enjoy spoiling you, hm?" He nudged the spoon to your lips softly.

You parted your lips, making him smile. It really is hard to stay mad at him when he looks at you with his baby blue eyes. They just- they draw you in.

"Also, before I forget, I will be leaving the castle today to meet Salauddin. So you can either hand out with Sibylla, who still wants to help you design your wedding gown, or your can-"

Salauddin? "Why are you meeting Salauddin? Isn't he your enemy?"

He chuckled. "Only on the battlefield. He and I have developed a friendship, or a mutual respect over the years. As to why I'm going to meet him, is... well, you."

"Me?" He nodded. "Since you told me that you're a Muslim, I thought that we could perhaps have a discreet Islamic wedding- what is it called? Nikkah? So, I could go and learn more about it from Salauddin."

You opened your mouth to protest. You don't need to be part of history as the "king of Jerusalem's Muslim wife" or "the Muslim-Christian wedding that took place during the Crusades", even if it might make the world more progressive.

But then, you didn't protest. "Can I come?"

Baldwin raised a brow at you. "You want to meet Salauddin?" You shook you're head. "Well, no, not really. I mean, I don't mind meeting him, but I just want to get out of the castle for a bit. It's been months since i left this place, I just want to get some fresh air." This could be the perfect opportunity for you, because if memory serves you right, Muslims of this era had made significant advances in science. Maybe you can use their help to get some tools to make the time machine again.

Baldwin looked unsure. "I don't know if it would be safe for you-" you held his hand with your bandaged ones. "Please, Baldwin? Can't you take me with you? And wouldn't I be the most safe when I'm with you?" Ah yes, stroke the male ego.

Finally, he smiled.

"Alright. I supposed it would be fine, after all, you should see the kingdom you're going to be the queen of."

Thoughts? (Also, I need to go shower rn, so I'll put the read more later. Doing so much effort for u guys, my spoiled greedy children)

Part 3 is here.

#yandere baldwin #yandere king baldwin #male yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x #yandere x darling #yandere #baldwin iv

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senualothbrok · 1 month ago

Text

A Perfect Storm

Summary: You and Gale give in to your passions, but there are some obstacles along the way.

Sequel to 'A Tight Fit' and 'A Generous Portion'. A reimagining of the Gale romance in Act 1 and Act 2, featuring nosy menaces Karlach and Astarion.

Word count: 5.6k

Disclaimers: Gale x female Tav/reader. NSFW. 18+. Smut. Oral sex. Vaginal penetration. Heavy petting. Light angst.

AO3 link

Beta: @dekariosclan, thank you so much, you are amazing and wonderful.

****

Peach juice gleams on Gale's beard, trickling down the thrust of his chin. He makes a slow sucking sound as it spills down the folds of your fingers. He pauses, his tongue darting over the bulge of his bottom lip, thick and wet.

His eyes are full and black, sparking purple from the throbbing of his orb. You were not certain what that meant before. You have no doubts now.

He lets out a low moan as he bites down again.

The peach falls from your hand. He does not move. Neither do you. There is a moment when you simply stare at him, alight with the pulse of his desire, rippling with the slick fire spreading from your core. Entranced by the unmistakable swelling between his thighs.

And then, you feast.

You fall on each other. A gush of peaches cascades across the ground. He laps and sucks at your fingers in a tumult of groans, as your tongue draws frenzied arcs over his soaked stubble, the honey of his skin. His hands are everywhere at once, weaving through your hair, grasping at your breasts, pressing your hips against his. You cannot get enough of him, pawing at his shoulders and his chest and his tousled waves, the bristled heat of his neck, the broad grooves of his back. When your mouths meet, you devour each other, ravenous for touch, scent, taste, anything, everything, more.

You are no longer aware of the open vista around you, the impending return of your companions. Nothing exists but Gale’s panting breaths, the velvet swirls of his tongue. His smouldering flesh against yours, crushing out all space between you, as it had been the first time, when there was no room for pretences and nowhere to hide. All that exists now is your desire, revealed and returned, at long last.

When your hand dips beneath his robe, his hips cant up to meet you. And when your fingers find what they seek, he shudders into the nook of your neck. It is no longer a memory, an ache that beset so many listless nights in your bedroll. You take hold of his hardness, hot and familiar. Searching fingers trail down the inside of your thigh, and you whimper as he rasps your name like a plea.

In the trance of your lust and longing, you do not notice the deepening flare of Gale’s chest. Blinding blades of indigo cut through Gale’s skin. As you move your hand along his length, he buckles into you. He lurches back with a cry.

You freeze as Gale doubles over, clasping at his chest. Ebony-purple tendrils writhe on his neck like poisoned veins, his chest a searing brightness that hurts your eyes.

“Gale, what's wrong? What's happening?”

He clenches his jaw, folding into himself. Choking breaths sputter out of him as he balls and unballs his fists. To see Gale deprived of speech is a unique brand of horror. You have no idea what to do.

“Do you need a magical artefact? A potion? Should I get–”

He jerks his head. You watch, terrified and helpless, as he extends a shaking palm. Wait. Please. Wait. His eyes wrench closed, his lips rippling as though in prayer.

Is this what it was like for him, that year in his tower, before your paths had crossed? The thought of him alone and abandoned, trapped in these convulsions of torment, shoots through you like pain.

You are not sure how long you sit there. Gradually, excruciatingly, his breathing slows to a laboured rhythm. The orb dims to a lavender wash. Relief overwhelms you as he lifts his head.

“I'm alright,” he heaves. “I'm fine, Tav.”

“Are you sure you don't need–”

“I'm fine. It’s safe. The orb… it's safe now.”

You suddenly feel so foolish. So blind.

“I'm sorry, Gale. I'm so sorry.”

“Whatever for?” His voice is broken, but still so tender. You could cry.

“All this time…I thought you were avoiding me because…”

You look away. He dips his head to chase your gaze. “Why?”

“Because you felt embarrassed. Because you didn't want me.”

He lets out a huff of disbelief. His gaze is urgent, so urgent, as he looks at you.

“Tav.” He moves closer. “I've wanted you since the day we got locked in that room. You're all I think about. All I dream of. I've never felt…”

He trails off. You watch the rise and fall of his chest, strained and uncertain.

“I've never met anyone like you,” he says finally.

You understand his struggle. You, too, cannot explain what it is between you. What you feel for him.

“Neither have I. I don't usually do this.”

His crow's feet crinkle. “That makes two of us. I don't make a habit of throwing myself at people tongue first.”

For an instant, you are lost in the memory of his tongue. He clears his throat. You tear your eyes away, fixing on the creases of your tunic.

The orb remains, mercifully, faint.

When you look up again, he is studying you. He scratches at his beard, still damp from your earlier exertions. You can still taste him, and you still want more.

“I’ve always considered myself a disciplined man.” He grimaces. “Surprising, I know, because I just can't control myself around you. Even the threat of imminent destruction couldn’t keep me away.”

You swallow. This is new territory for you, too. You have never felt so desired, and you have never desired someone more. You cannot make sense of it.

“You should have told me,” you manage. “If I had known this was hurting you…”

“I think I had more pressing priorities than talking.” He pauses, chuckles. “I never thought I'd say that.”

Despite the circumstances, you laugh. “You do love talking.”

“There are things I love more.”

Your core tingles as you linger over the swell of his lips. The orb flickers as his eyes hover over your parted mouth. You wonder if you should pull away. He does not.

“I wanted to do things properly. Charm you with dazzling displays of wit. Conjure a canvas to rival your beauty. Dance with you beneath the stars.”

Is that sorrow in his voice? Regret? He frowns, and in the shadows of his face, you think you see shame.

“If things were different… if we were home… I would give you everything you deserve.”

It is not quite shock you feel, but you cannot fathom it. When Gale had told you about his past, his greatest mistake and his fall from grace, you had wondered at the fairness of his self-judgment. It did not sit well with you, the crushing burden of the blame he carried, as though the sin was his alone. For you, that guilt had always jarred against the proud veneer Gale projected - the bluster of a wizard of considerable acclaim, a scholar of exceptional accomplishment.

Now, you see him so clearly. The passion that drives him, the gentleness that sets him apart. The conviction that he will always fall short.

You reach forward to cup his cheek. His breath catches, a mirror of your heart. You have touched before, drawn together by the whirlwind of your yearning, a surging, panting need. But this is different.

“You already have.”

His eyes ebb with surprise, doubt, something like fear. There are things you wish to say, but you do not know how. They go beyond the language of your bodies, into the recesses within you that no one else has stirred.

But still, you try.

“Being with you… It’s everything.”

He is speechless for a moment. When he looks at you, you know he sees. He smiles.

And as he kisses you, you realise it is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.

****

“So, let me get this straight.” Karlach leans forward. “All those nights in Gale's tent, and you still haven't ridden that wizard’s staff?”

You rub at your temples. You already regret those extra glasses of red. Wine has always made you loose lipped.

Astarion smirks. “Come now, Tav. That tent lights up like a signal flare every time you go in. You must be doing something.”

You glare at them pathetically. You know they will not let this go, no matter how mortified you are. No matter how much you dig your heels in.

“We can't,” you sigh.

Astarion arches an eyebrow. “Well, I can't say I'm surprised. Gale does leave a lot to be desired. Though I’d assumed there'd be spells for that sort of thing. Enlarge, for one–”

“No!” you splutter. “For the love of – No! There's nothing wrong with Gale's–”

You catch the grin Astarion shoots at Karlach. Karlach gapes at you, expectant.

“It's his orb, alright? Not his… anatomy. We can't because of his orb.”

Karlach's eyes widen. “Are you saying that if Gale nuts, his orb will explode?”

You wince. “That's the worry, yes.”

“Gale’s cock could bring about the apocalypse.” Astarion chortles. “Who would have thought.”

You give Astarion a shove. “It's not funny.”

“Of course it isn't!” Karlach looks genuinely distressed. “You poor things. I can hear you two going at it sometimes–”

“Like a pair of clumsy teenagers,” Astarion pushes in. “You’d have to be deaf not to hear everything, by the way.”

Karlach scratches her head. “Seriously though. What are you guys doing in there? If you can't wet that wand–”

“For gods’ sake!”

Astarion snickers. “Are you finding all his special places and kissing them better? Is he putting that mage hand to good use? Whispering sweet nothings into your–”

Your face burns. “Just use your imagination!”

“Poor Gale.” Karlach blows out a breath. “He must have the biggest, bluest balls in all of Faerun.”

“And you must have the most swollen–”

“Right!” You leap to your feet, lunging away from the campfire. “I'm done! I'm not discussing Gale's balls, or my–”

You crash into Gale as you turn. He catches you, alarm and confusion flitting across his face as you squeeze his hand. Sorry, you signal with your eyes as you retreat. I'll make it up to you later.

“What did I miss?” you hear Gale ask behind you. You cringe at the delight in Astarion's voice.

“Oh Gale.” He titters ominously. “I'm so glad you asked.”

****

“Oh, I get it.”

You chuckle as he wraps his arms around you from behind. Everything feels and smells like Gale - every nook and cranny of his study, plush and warm, every chime of the well-worn piano beside you. The teasing dance of hands around your waist, the tickle of his hair against your neck. The familiar scent of sandalwood and scrolls, indistinguishable as fantasy or flesh. Your fingers hover over the bookshelf before you.

“This is some kind of elaborate courting ritual, isn't it? You seduce me with kisses and honeyed words–”

“I seduced you?” Gale barks out a laugh. “I seem to recall that you were the one who touched my–”

“You whisk me away to your wizard’s tower, ply me with mood music, and then–”

“Excuse me, but you willingly accepted my invitation. No whisking was involved–”

“And then–”

“I might also remind you that technically, we haven’t left the boundaries of my tent, given that this is an illusion, though admittedly, a masterful one–”

You jostle him. He nibbles at your earlobe, and you bat him away half-heartedly.

“And then, you show me your personal, and very extensive, collection of porn.”

Gale titters as you gesture towards a cluster of tomes in the upper left corner.

“A gentleman can never be too well-read.”

“Clearly not.” You crane your neck. “‘Beauty and the Beast with Two Backs’. ‘Longsword of Love’. ‘The Wand of Wonder.’”

“Oh, that's a good one. The sequel was a poor imitation, though. ‘The Tiefling's Horn.’ Disappointing.”

“What a shame.” You squint. “‘Two Wenches, One Goblet’. What's that about?”

Gale opens his mouth, then promptly closes it.

“Wait. Maybe don't answer that.”

You laugh as you delve further. You remember that Gale has conjured all of these books from memory. You have no doubt that he recalls their content in exquisite detail.

“I wasn't sure whether you'd misplaced some of these. ‘Exploring the Underdark.’ ‘How to Tend Your Garden.’ ‘Studies of the Kraken.’”

Gale huffs. “I'm offended you'd think my library would be anything but impeccably arranged.”

“Ah.” You turn to face him, nuzzling into his neck. "Shall I beg for your forgiveness?”

His hands wander down your spine, over the small of your back. A violet shimmer fills the space between you. You have learned which shades you should flinch from, and which you should welcome. You cannot help but feel Gale's arousal as your own, after all. To see it displayed so clearly - it drives you wild.

“Tav,” he murmurs into your hair. “You could take a first edition of ‘Etheril’s Enchiridion of Enchanting Easements’ and burn it in a ritualistic bonfire, and I’d forgive you.”

You brush your lips over his jawline, running your thumb over the arc of his collarbone. You feel him tremble against you.

“So you're saying I have you wrapped around my little finger.”

“Wrapped?” He tuts. “Bound and double knotted. Triple knotted, even. If you had an inkling of a desire for me to jump, I'd catapult myself to the other side of the Chionthar.”

“So…” You bite your lip. “You’d do anything I asked?”

His eyes are misted, lips curled in a sideways smile. “Within reason. But yes. There's very little I wouldn't do for you.”

You tilt your mouth to his. He opens to you without hesitation. A soft moan escapes him as he presses you against the bookshelf, enfolding you in his lavender haze.

“I’d do the same,” you whisper, before you melt into each other.

****

You stare up at the peak of your tent, flickering in the candlelight. Your bedroll feels foreign, the ground beneath you impossibly hard. You kick away your blanket with a grunt, abandoning the hope of sleep.

Should you go to him? After Elminister’s departure, you had made your feelings on Mystra's charge - and Mystra herself - abundantly clear. When you had sat with Gale, watching the sun set with his hand in yours, he had been uncharacteristically quiet. You had known, without him asking, that he needed space.

He had not been at dinner - a haphazard assortment of beans and fish heads which you were too preoccupied to taste. When you returned from a wash in the river, you thought you glimpsed the curve of his back sliding into his tent. You have not seen him since.

You imagine Gale, tossing and turning, wondering how long he has left. Sifting through his memories for triumph, and finding only despair. Convinced that his life has no meaning outside of his death. Standing at a precipice, alone.

You lunge up, darting through the slit of your tent.

He stands outside, features shadowed in the empty night. There is a weariness in his stooped frame, an exhaustion that he cannot conceal. But when your eyes meet, his face glows with unmistakable joy. He reaches for your hand.

“Come with me.”

****

“This was going to be a surprise.”

You marvel at the illusion around you. The bed of lush grass beneath your toes, adorned with a

fine spray of daisies. The lilting forest canopy, framed by a boundless azure canvas bejewelled with stars. The sky glimmers with the most vivid shades of turquoise you have ever seen.

In awe, you follow Gale to a clearing, where a velvet rug awaits, soft and welcoming. A billowing bouquet of peonies rests beside a basket of peaches, two glasses and a bottle of Gulthmeran Reserve. All your favourites.

You are at a loss.

“I've been trying to make it perfect, or as close to perfect I can get, in the circumstances. It's not quite finished, but…”

He looks down, grimacing.

“Well, there's no time like the present.”

You step forward, resting your hands on his chest. “This is incredible, Gale. It is perfect. Beyond perfect.”

He shakes his head. “I wish I could give you more. There's so much more I would give you, if only we had time.”

His eyes are shining. You realise that he is holding back tears. You cup his face in your hands.

“You've given me more than I've ever dreamed of. More than I could ever imagine.”

He is silent for a moment. Through the storm of your emotions, you watch the quiver of his lip, the spasm of his brow. He gestures towards the rug, arrayed with all the gifts he has prepared for you. You sit beside him, caressing the petals of a scarlet peony, rolling a honey-ripe peach around in your palm. He smiles as he watches you, a smile that puts the stars to shame.

“All of this,” you breathe. “How did you know–”

“Tav.” He chuckles, mock-chiding. “You should know by now that I'm a keen observer and a meticulous scholar, especially when you're the subject matter.”

You are not sure why you suddenly feel shy. You fiddle with his collar, the chestnut curls around his neck. He draws you closer, his legs bracketing you, the tip of his nose tingling over yours.

“No one has ever done anything like this for me.”

It is difficult for you to understand it. The things Gale has done, the feelings he has professed. You struggle to explain the magnitude of them all. The miracle of him.

“Then I'll do everything in my power to make up for their shortcomings.”

You stare at him for a long time. Without warning, a tear slides down your cheek. He catches it with his thumb, stilled by the admission, the implication. Your hands find his as he plants a slow, searing kiss on your forehead. In his touch, there is the warmth of home.

“Do you remember when you said you'd do anything I asked you?”

“Of course.” He nods. “I said what I meant.”

You know it is a risk. You know the consequences of what you are about to say. But you cannot stay silent, not after all you have been through together. Not after all you have discovered about the man he is, everything he has become to you. You cannot abide it.

“What if I asked you to trust me? To trust that we can find another way?”

He hesitates. The lines on his face deepen, his eyes darkening.

“You don't have to die, Gale. We can fight the Absolute together.”

He jerks his head. “Tav…”

You clasp his hands against your heart. “I'm asking you to trust me. Someone who knows you. Someone who… cares deeply for you. You don't deserve this. You don't need her forgiveness. You don't have to die.”

“Tav.” His chest heaves. “What you're asking…”

“I'm asking you to live.”

It comes out as a plea, though you had not meant it as such. It is your beating heart, held out before him - the truth laid bare, without reservation or fear. You cannot run from it any longer.

“I love you, Gale.”

The words are everything, yet not enough. Perhaps love cannot capture the hunger you feel for him, frantic and insatiable, the desperate ache that possesses you whenever he is near. The candle he has lit inside you, illuminating the world with a wonder you have never known. A steady tide, washing over everything within and around you, making all things new.

A thousand feelings stream across his features as a comet soars through the sky. And as he surges forward, clutching you against him like a lifeline, you recognise the promise that is sealed between your skin.

“I love you too.”

His tongue is tender at first, almost reverent as it slides against yours. Your mouths move slowly, savouring each other like the richest banquet, the finest wine. But when his hands roam under your robe to palm your breasts, when your fingers weave under his waistband to grasp his need, all is lost.

You had imagined this, the minute Elminster calmed the orb. The implications had been immediately clear to you. But all that had fallen to the wayside in the face of Gale's suffering and grief. Now, as Gale’s chest flares to the rhythm of his juddering breaths, you are unleashed.

Suddenly, all you want is his skin on yours. He tears your robe off with a ferocity that makes you whimper. You wrench his tunic off, shoving his breeches and briefs down in a frenzy. He rolls his tongue around your nipple, sucking it roughly into his mouth. As you arch into him, you tighten your grip around his shaft. He gasps, digging into your ass as you begin to pump.

“Wait,” you think you hear. But he is lapping wet whirls on your areola, parting your soaked panties to find your fire. You can feel the veins twitching on his girth as his fingers flutter into your cleft. You grind into his hand with a whine.

When he draws back abruptly, your first instinct is to check the orb. Before, that indigo blaze would have been a warning. But Gale's eyes are wide with desire, not clenched with pain.

With a low murmur, he flicks his wrist. A crackle of blue thread bends in the air. He rises, lifting you up into his arms.

“A gesture towards your comfort.”

You gape at the four poster bed that has appeared behind you, its violet canopy and silk sheets. You look back at Gale, incredulous.

“Are you telling me that all this time, you've had this in your back pocket, and we've been messing around in your bedroll?”

Gale dips his head, half amused, half sheepish. His hands meander down your curves, distracted, insistent. You lean into his touch.

“Maintaining an illusion like this requires concentration. Concentration I was devoting to making sure the orb didn't take out a small city every time you and I were having a…particularly heated interchange.”

“I see.”

You run your fingers over the scar of the orb, sunken into Gale's skin. It pulses, cold as metal in winter. Tentatively, you bend down to dart your tongue over its edges, lingering over the bruise in its centre. You can taste the static as Gale sucks in a breath.

“And you won't have a problem maintaining concentration now?”

His voice is strained, but his eyes glint. “I won't now.”

You gasp as he pulls you onto the bed, his cock stiff against your belly as you straddle him. You wet your lips as you skim his beaded head with your thumb. His head falls between your breasts as he shivers violently against you.

“That remains to be seen.”

When you slide off his lap, he makes a muffled sound, reaching for you. You hold his gaze as you roll his briefs and breeches down and off, caressing the exquisite muscles of his thighs, the arcs of his strong calves. As you settle between his legs, the smell of his sweat and arousal fills your senses, heady as a drug. Gale tenses in anticipation as you look up, his length twitching against your cheek.

He swallows.

You plunge his cock into your mouth. His back bows as he bites back a whine, the bed quaking beneath you. He is hard, so hard, and the warm silk of his shaft glides against your tongue like butter. You ache with a throbbing, swelling fire at the slick sounds of him sliding in and out of you, stretching you wide as you take him deeper and deeper. You want nothing more than to gorge yourself on him.

“Gods above…Tav… Gods…”

You are wild with the sounds of Gale's pleasure as he writhes to the rhythm of your mouth. You move faster, firmer, hollowing your cheeks as you suck on his girth. Spit spills down your chin and neck, and you keen as his cock thrusts against the back of your throat. You can feel the bud of your desire thrumming against your folds, bursting for release.

“Gods, you're incredible…that feels incredible…Tav…. ”

Arousal trickles down your thigh as you hum in approval. He is surging, impossibly stiff against your flurrying tongue. Tears prickle at your eyes as you continue to pump, losing yourself to his pleasure.

“Tav.” He clutches for you, frantic.

The tightness of his grip stills you. You slow for an instant to look at him. His brow is twisted, his hair mussed and cheeks flushed. The orb pulses like a heartbeat. A sheen of sweat ripples on his abdomen, glittering on the damp down of his skin. His beauty is maddening. Dizzying.

He springs up, pinning you beneath him. Your eyes roll back at the force of his weight grinding down into you, the stark demand of him. His hair is a tousled curtain around your faces, his chest rubbing against your nipples as you pant.

“Did you not like it?” Your hips cant up, desperate for more of him.

“I loved it. Too much, in fact,” he rasps. “I didn't want this evening to come to a premature end.”

You can feel his cock, steely and determined as it nestles into you. Your flesh burns in every place he touches. His musk is a haze, blurring every boundary, making you one. You are struggling to think, to speak.

“How considerate,” you manage.

“I'm nothing if not thoughtful.”

He begins at your neck – that secret nook just below your ear. A discovery he had made on one of the first nights, when you had come undone beneath his hungry mouth, a mewling mass of nerves. He has remembered ever since.

He rolls his tongue across your skin, teasing it between his plush lips. You shiver as he licks a tantalising trail of kisses down your collarbone, between your breasts, around your navel. He hums as he peels off your panties, drenched with your arousal. Your legs quiver as he spreads you wide, firm fingers edging into the sensitive flesh of your thighs. You whine at the wet sound of your folds opening to him, the hot puffs of his words over your bulging clit.

“You have no idea how much I've wanted to do this.” His voice is low and hoarse. Ravenous.

“I have some idea.”

You can barely breathe. The smirk on his lips sends a shudder through you.

“You have no idea.”

You let out a needy cry as he drags his tongue through your folds. He tastes you slowly, painstakingly, savouring every inch and corner of you. With every messy swipe, every moan that spurts from him, your back arches, your thighs lifting higher as Gale pushes into you, devouring you like a man starved.

“Gods,” he murmurs, and you think you might explode at the flick of his tongue on your clit. “You taste like heaven.”

You have no words, only a whimper. You will not last. Every fibre of your being condenses into the throbbing ache under his tongue. As he begins to draw small, swift circles around your fire, sparks spasm up your spine, spreading to the tips of your fingers and toes. His groans vibrate against your swollen centre, his nails digging into your thighs. His beard chafes against your flesh with a friction that gathers like a flaming coil inside you. You clench at the sheets, your toes curling with mounting ecstasy.

“Gale…Gods… Gale, I’m going to–”

He hums again. Even in the midst of your unravelling, you can hear his appreciation, his pride at having uncovered another mystery, another key to your undoing. His eager, plump lips close around your desire, his tongue flat and snug against you. He sucks at your clit with a loud, slapping sound, and you throw your head back as your last nerve snaps.

Blinding pleasure jolts through you in waves, shattering your every sense and thought. Incoherent sounds tumble out of you, your hips jerking frenetically as Gale continues to feast. He does not stop, even as you keen and bend beneath him, even as your climax erupts from you in bursts of sweet release. You have never come so quickly or so hard.

Overwhelmed by sensation, frenzied from it, you twitch and flinch, thighs clamping around his head as he holds you down. You cannot take any more. As you lurch up onto your elbows, his eyes meet yours, fully dilated, drunk with bliss. You reach for him helplessly.

“Gale,” you plead. “Come here. Please.”

He lingers, lapping up your delight in long, sloppy stripes, greedy for every last drop of you. When he rises, you can see streaks of your slickness glistening on his beard and chin. You tremble as he licks his lips.

You lunge for him, wild with want. Your mouths meet again in their furious dance, your taste thick on his tongue. You are closer than you have ever been, your bodies flush against each other, the sweat on his skin mingling with your own. He presses your arms down above your head, his fingers entwining with yours as you groan into each other.

“I need you.” Your hips roll against his, his cock jostling against your folds. It is anguish, your yearning to be filled by him, to be eaten whole. “I need you inside me. Please.”

You do not need to ask twice. You can feel the pounding of Gale’s heart, the billow of lust in his dark eyes. There is no more reserve, no trace of deliberation. When your legs part to welcome him, he makes a sound you have never heard before, all gentleness lost in the urge to consume you. He notches himself at your entrance, coating himself with your slick. With one rough thrust, he sheathes himself inside you, and you almost scream from the delicious drag of his cock against your aching walls.

“Gods,” he pants. “Tav…Gods… you feel…Tav….”

Your calves clench around his waist as he plunges into you, an erratic, gasping rhythm of wet, slapping skin. You flutter around his girth as he drives into you again and again, splitting you open then filling you to bursting. He releases your hands to cup your cheek, crushing his forehead against yours, and you cannot catch the words that stream from his lips, only his raw and wanton need. Your fingers fist into his tangled waves as you pull him closer.

“Gale.” Your entire being quakes beneath him, for him. “I love you.”

His brow steeples as he clasps your face, eyes shimmering with awe and exertion. He kisses you like it is his last night alive, taking what is left of your breath away. The world around you swirls into a purple storm as he pumps faster and faster, hips snapping with dizzying force. Your head rolls back, your eyes shuttering in rapture as he thrusts into the deepest parts of you over and over again.

“Tav.” His thumb pushes into your moaning mouth. “Look at me.”

You obey. As your tongue twists around his questing finger, you look at him with all the love and longing within you, every inch of you that cannot get enough of him. His eyes are bright as summer earth, his lashes fluttering like butterfly wings. You can feel the tremors through his muscles, the convulsions of his gut, as he nears the peak of his climax.

“I love you,” he whispers.

The orb flashes like an eruption of stars, the bed flickering in a chaos of colours. For an instant, you are floating in a lavender sea, drifting in the abyss of the night. With a final, keening stroke, he spills himself inside you. You whimper against each other, writhing through the aftershocks, a convulsion of shared breath and flesh. And as you lie on the bed he has made for you, with his arms around you and his warmth inside you, you wonder how you will ever part from him again.

****

You are curled on his chest, tracing the peaks and valleys of his body, studying the fine dust of hair over his flushed skin. His touch roams, tender and earnest, mapping the topography of your being, every dip and dune of your drowsy, sated flesh. Cocooned in him, cloaked in a passion that goes far beyond need, you feel a peace you have never felt before. You know, in an inexplicable way, that he feels it too.

He huffs, that quiet laugh you have come to love so much. You draw back to look at him.

“What?”

He smiles, rubbing his nose against yours. “Nothing. Just thinking. Marvelling, really.”

His lips graze your forehead as he pulls you close again. You nestle into him with a contented hum.

“At what?”

He chuckles, drawing languid circles over your hip bone, the curves of your thigh, the dimples on your back.

“The miracle of serendipity that brought you into my life. What fortune, what divine calculus, what wondrous confluence of circumstances…”

You pause, drinking in the joy that radiates in every lilt of his speech, every dance of his features. The love that burns in every part of him, pure as sunlight, fierce as life.

“A perfect storm.”

Gale stares at you. The grin that bursts on his face thrums with pride, a glee that would be ridiculous were it not so endearing. You laugh through the sprinkling of kisses that he peppers all over your face, a whirlwind of affection that floods your heart.

“My love,” he sighs, as his lips find yours. “I couldn't have said it better.”

********

A/N: Not wanting to blue-ball everyone after 'A Generous Portion', I decided to write a conclusion to this saga - but what I didn't realise was that I was going to end up rewriting the whole of Gale's romance in Act 1 and Act 2...

This is what I imagine happened if instead of the Weave scene, Gale and Tav were locked in a room together.

I tried to stay true to the canon as much as I could, with the orb, call backs, Elminster's visit and such. Most of all I wanted to capture a romance with Gale that begins with an explosion of passion / physical attraction, and then deepens into love.

I hope you enjoyed it! I am forever grateful for your support, and as always, would love to hear your thoughts and comments <3

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