#what did mystra turn that weave into

[siginari]

Completely innocent discussion about Tara got out of hands:

[madwomansapologist]

Please share your headcanon about gale's kinks!!!!

gale's kinks/turn ons

Navigation | More Wizard of Waterdeep | AO3

synopsis: A deep dive into what the smart wizard man think it's hot. Yes, the brain rot is that serious.

warnings: i'm sick so if this isn't good i will blame the pills. testing a new format. this is about sex, don't interact if you're a minor. remember: if you kink shame me i will get horny just to spite you.

PRAISE KINK

That's a man willing to write poetry about your body, mind and soul. His tongue has only two purposes on life, and both of them involve making you see stars. If his mouth isn't in use, he will be praising you.

And when Gale feels so good he can't even speak, isn't that a praise on itself?

But that we all know. His reaction to receiving praise is what makes me want to bite my fingers off.

Gale Dekarios knows his value as a wizard, but not as a man. His ambition isn't a consequence of his desire to pursue more, but to be more. To deserve love, he must prove his worth. As we all know, it often doesn't end in a good way.

I don't think Mystra ever wasted her precious time to assure Gale of the contrary. And when she did, it wasn't about Gale Dekarious: it was about Gale of Waterdeep, her chosen. How his control of the weave was impressive, how he could conjure any sort of images, how his illusions could fool everyone.

So when he receives praise for any other part of his life that isn't his academic pursues, a part of his brain burns. Be as intricate as his poetry or as lascive as one can be, Gale can feel his knees getting weak. Weaker.

FOOD PLAY

Not only Gale loves to cook and bake, but he loves the whole idea of being responsible for making someone stronger and healthier. Hunger is a hurtful thing, that he knows, and he don't want anyone else to deal with it.

It comes hand to hand with his praise kink. When you eat something good, you don't need to use words: your whole body shows it. He would apreciate the compliments, nonetheless.

To spoon feed you would be such a turn on. It's so intimate, such a show of trust and care, nothing but human. The way your mouth opened for the spoon, how your tongue licked it clean. Can you blame him?

After helping you eat, it would be his turn to end his hunger. You don't mind being his plate, do you? Gale promises to lick you clean. You always taste so sweet for him, what's a bit of honey to add to that?

OLFACTOPHILIA

Your scent can turn him into a fucking mess. There is something so human about it. So natural and real about it. Is just you.

After a fight, when you are covered in sweat and blood, he can't help himself. To be around you can make him drool. You fresh from your shower, smelling just as you and not as any perfume. When you spend the day laying around and is too lazy to get clean.

The amount of times his cheeks burned red because he breathed in when you walked past and a companion noticed can't be numbered.

Gale prefers to undress you rather you doing it yourself. That means he will be able to breath deep against your undies before getting them off of you.

Wanna get him as hard as a rock in mere seconds? Give him a underwear you used for a long time. Just threw it at his face and go on with your day. He will be quick to follow.

Gale loves how he can still smell you on his upper lip after going down on you. If you squirt, he will cum on his trousers. I don't make the rules.

FACE-SITTING/FACE FUCKING

Again: his mouth has only two uses. Is almost therapeutic for him. Just get on top of him, use his mouth however you want. The place in between your legs seen perfect for him to die on.

Gale Dekarios is a service top looking for a pillow princess/prince. I VOLUNTEER!

FINGERS IN MOUTH

You know that feeling of not knowing what to do next? Where to put your hands, what to do with your mouth? Since he prefers to be the one doing things, this can be a problem. A problem that can be easily solved by your pretty fingers.

It can hit even harder if he's in the process of casting something and you stop him by just putting your fingers into his mouth. Gale won't even know hot to react. Actually, he might suck them.

Ok, he might have a oral obsession. What are you, Freud?

BONDAGE

Hand to hand with that sort of anxiety about what he must do next. Make sure Gale stays put in place and use him. Remember guys, your service tops also deserve to be fucked around a bit.

Magic restrains or ropes, and make sure to do some beautiful knots. He could break free from them, but Gale won't desobey. Not after you spend so long getting him ready for you.

shadowheart turn ons/kinks

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[galedekarios]

thinking about how gale's love language is acts of service.

people have talked at length about how he cooks for everyone at camp.

"the hand that feeds is the hand that's loved. it'll never leave your side now."

but that's not all of it, and it's a red thread that weaves itself through almost all his interactions throughout the game.

"magic is... my life. i've been in touch with the weave for as long as I can remember. would you like to experience this?"

gale shows the protag his world, his life, trying to connect them to the weave as he had once been, when he was still a chosen, still an archmage. it's not quite the same, it doesn't come quite as easy. still.

"i'm so very glad you came. to share this with me. i know this is all unreal, but i created it for you. you must know that you're... that you're very special to me. if things were different, if we were home, i'd have taken time to do things properly. to say it all better. but time is short. i'm in love with you."

gale knew he was living on borrowed, he knew it would run out eventually, even well before elminster came to deliver mystra's instructions.

he can't give the protag something different and they aren't home and they're not going to go home at the end of this. he knows this. time that once seemed so infinite when he was young is now whittled down to a single last night.

a last night that he uses to turn a dark and cursed land into a beautiful forest, northern lights dancing across a starry sky. he can't go home, he can't take the protag home, but he can give them an illusion of the centre of his universe, with all the well-loved things in it. there's no pretention here. books strewn across the floor, across the desk. sculptures, paintings, music. a view of home. the smell of the sea breeze.

baring his heart as well his soul in the little time he still has left to use how he sees fit.

"let me show you more. when you wake, it will be back in our small, dirty, bloody patch of existence. but stay with me now. there are endless worlds out there. countless ways to declare love. infinite ways to express it. too much for one night... but we shall try."

let me show you waterdeep, let me show you my home, my universe. let me show you how it would have been, could have been, if i did have time. let me show you more. let me show you how much i love you in the one night we may have left together.

let me give my soul to you, in confidence.

"i'd actually been thinking of introducing the two of you anyway. over a sumptuous home-cooked meal, if that sounds at all to your taste? i make it to my mother's recipe."

he wants to give the protag a chance to get to know tara, the one constant in his life, the one who became his only friend, his safe haven in the storm, the one that bore witness to his greatest triumphs and most abject failures. he wants to cook for them. he wants to take them home so very badly—

and yet he knows he won't make the date.

"then have me, but have the best possible version of me. [...] think of what i offer: the vastness of eternity to explore, the weave at our fingertips... you would really prefer me as i am?"

he could be more for the protag, if they wish him to be. could be more, could be better.

without all the flaws, without all the things that make gale only who he is. the things that sometimes simply aren't enough. he could be everything that plain old gale dekarios, that even the wizarding prodigy gale of waterdeep, could never be.

[dekariosclan]

“I love you,” Gale says. It’s the first time he’s ever said those words to anyone.

But the object of his love looks back at him with a faint hint of distaste at the confession, and he feels his heart suddenly sink into his chest.

“I…don’t feel the same, Gale,” they say. “I’m sorry. I find your magic very impressive, it’s true, but you…” they raise one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “You’re not enough for me.”

———

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, my Goddess, forgive me,” Gale begs, desperate to undo the mistake he’s made.

But Mystra only looks at him coldly and stops his pleading with a wave of her hand.

“You were an adept composer of the Weave, Gale of Waterdeep. And for that you earned my interest and a place in my bed for many years. But that all ends now,” she says, sounding almost bored as she watches her lover keeling over in pain. Though whether it’s from the orb burning in his chest or his breaking heart, she cannot tell.

“I did it because I love you,” he gasps, his voice hoarse. “You know I love you…”

“You’ve made the gravest of errors. And now, to atone for it, you offer me your love?” She looks almost amused as she turns away from him. “That is not enough for me.”

———

Floating in a sea of stars, the Outer Planes as their backdrop, Gale kisses Tav with an intensity that borders on desperation. Part of him can’t help but brace for the worst: for Tav to pull away suddenly, or demand to be taken home…but neither happens. Instead, Tav’s hands, clasped in both of his, pull him in closer. Wanting him, needing him. Loving him.

When they finally break apart to come up for air, Tav is gazing at him with such devotion it nearly takes his breath away.

He knows there are no words that can convey the depth of what he feels for Tav. That no language currently in existence could do it justice.

But still, he intends to try.

So he chooses his words carefully and he hopes—oh, he hopes!—that Tav will understand the weight behind them…

“You see me as I am, and do not find me wanting. With these stars as my witness, I swear - you will always be enough for me.”

[kirain]

Finally doing a Gale-mance this playthrough (I've done Shadowheart and Karlach and had to gently turn Gale down both times) and while I initially mildly turned off by his grand gestures and flowery prose, it's rapidly growing on me because he's just so... earnest? Like yeah, he's theatrical but its all genuine. (And after reading your meta I've become suspicious that Big Grand Gestures are all he knows because what's a small, sentimental gesture to a goddess? I didn't go with the Astral Sex scene because I wouldn't have been able to handle it but now I'm glad I did for narrative reasons too.)

I'm happy for you! Many of my friends have also fallen down the X companion to Gale pipeline, but they didn't regret it. 😆

I also didn't choose the astral sex scene, but as an asexual, it doesn't bother me. I know a lot of people are 50/50 on it, but I think it's just another beautiful expression of love. The good news is I don't think it impacts Gale's decisions. You can try it and still tell him you prefer him as a man, and he'll be grateful.

Gale is theatrical, but you're right—it's what became expected of him. He was in a constant state of trying to impress a goddess. It's honestly heartbreaking, because I have a feeling he wouldn't have explored such grand gestures if not for Mystra, who according to both the game and D&D lore loves unconventional sex involving the Weave. I can't even imagine being under that kind of pressure.

Personally, I also found Gale's sex scenes to be painfully telling, because he doesn't make it about what he wants. Like you said, he's earnest. It might be his last night alive, but he focuses solely on your pleasure. He does all the work, he offers different methods, and he conjures a bed for your comfort. While he certainly is seeking support and doesn't want to be alone, he wants to spend what little time he has left making the one he loves happy.

He's also one of the few companions who will fully embrace your ilithid form, admire you for your sacrifice, and actively search for a cure and magical means to feed/protect you. He sets boundaries (like not allowing you to cheat on him), but you becoming a squid isn't one of them.

That's why I think Gale is one of the most loyal and devoted companions in the entire game, second perhaps only to Minthara, if you play as the Dark Urge. They're both very ride or die, but Gale is a soft, wholesome romantic who proves his love in everything he says and does.

Plus he cooks and has a cat. You can't go wrong. 😉

[easy-there-leftovers]

Can be read as a continuation to my previous work about Gale, but can also be read independently. In any case, this is mostly a filler short.

Today had been a tiring day, especially for their de-facto leader, Gale thinks. The situation at the goblin village could have turned for the worse had you not smooth talked your way through.

And yet you’ve gone back to dueling the fire with your eyes again, he notes. However unlike last time, he chooses to stay put in his own corner of the camp.

Given his last attempt at light but stimulating conversation, he’s mostly sure that he will never do such a thing ever again. Lest he wants to feel the less than comfortable stares of everyone awake when he returns to his tent.

Alone and unaccompanied.

Doesn’t mean that he can’t observe you from here though. While he should be reading up on a rather interesting book he picked up from today’s skirmish, the pages haven’t been graced with his eyes quite nearly as much as your form.

Naturally, he doesn’t realize this until something, or rather someone, catches his attention.

Astarion.

Usually not one to leave his own comfortable area of the camp, it was surprising to see him choose to settle in at a bedroll nearer the fire.

To approach you in such a manner. Almost as if you were familiar with another.

“Which couldn’t be since you would have only met one another after the crash,” he reasons.

Astarion makes a comment from his lax position on his bedroll. Opens the conversation with you the same way that he’s certain he did a few nights ago, and yet the response couldn’t be more different.

The action draws what looks to be an exasperated sigh from you, but Gale notices your eyes soften at the elf’s remark. You don’t turn to face him, but still respond while focusing on the camp’s light.

Astarion stands to be nearer to you, perhaps trying to convince you of something, as he slings an arm around your shoulder. Face, nearing yours. The thumb of his slung-over hand seemingly grazing the skin of your exposed collarbone, uncovered by the looser strings of your shirt.

Gale feels his jaw slacken as he watches this very scene unfold before him. The book, long forgotten as the strength in his arm wanes, almost dropping it. He feels his eyes bug out of his skull when he sees you place your hand on top the pale fellow’s in what he can only assume is an affectionate gesture.

He’ll admit, perhaps he wasn’t paying attention to you earlier in the days you reunited. With the way you were avoiding him, it seemed like you wanted him to forget you existed or pretend like you didn’t know each other.

But how could he?

How could he when you inspired him so?

How could he when your wit and creativity showed him more ways the weave could be practiced?

How could he when he knew that all your friends had always been more like Aatarion’s type, and that you’ve always seemed to avoid his?

He supposed he shouldn’t be be surprised then, if he claims to know you so well. It was inevitable that you would warm up to the elf so quickly. Alike in charm and nerve.

And if you still haven’t warmed up to the wizard in the years of study you shared, he doubts you ever will.

He watches how pleasing the pair of you look. With the sheer charisma you two radiated, it didn’t take much for anyone to assume you would have been coupled up or at the very least intimately engaged.

Ah, but where will all this conjecture get him? He’s still dealing with the loss of Mystra’s favor and it’s vicious consequences. What use would it be to watch like this?

He takes one last look at your joined hands before he sees you respond and heads in to his tent. Perhaps a bit of rest will help temper whatever wave of emotions it is that washes over him.

“Astarion.” You warn with your warmer hand atop his.

“Hm?”

You turn your head to look at him and you’re greeted by that self-aggrandizing smirk that always curls up on his face.

The sight makes you sigh. No answer to his earlier question will get you out of this.

Tricky bastard.

“Your fingers are cold.” He clicks his tongue at that, but removes himself from your form anyway. A catty, “you’re no fun” leaving his lips as he distances himself from you.

He smiles anyway and tilts his head to the side. Standing to rest all his weight on one leg, and waves you off with one hand.

“I’ll see you later, I’m sure.” You shakes your head at that and turn to leave.

“Good night Astarion.”

“Sweet dreams, dear mage.”

He’s convinced you enough to try.

[elspethdekarios]

Random Gale Dekarios Headcanons

Hello I'm just thinking about That Man again

These are all SFW and just mundane life-after-tadpole thoughts.

Gale's home is clean but he is messy. The dishes are done, scented candles are lit, linens are laundered, but my man's got shit everywhere. Parchment, books, and quills are scattered in the areas he finds himself working in most often. Potion bottles in disarray. Random trinkets throughout the house. Grooming products cluttering the bathroom sink. He's very diligent about making his bed every morning, though.

Once he and tav have settled down post-game, his favorite thing to do is surprise them with breakfast in bed. He gets up extra early and goes all out on creating a tray of food--making their favorite tea, eggs exactly how they like them (extra butter, though, always), pancakes or some sort of pastry he can whip up quickly, and a vase holding a flower plucked from the window planter. He does this at least once a tenday.

Gale was worried his tower would be in the same depression-mess state as he left it once he brought tav home. He spent the journey home apologizing in advance for the disarray and promising that he's not a slob, he swears, it was just a difficult time. Tav, of course, assures him that there's no need to apologize, and that they'll help him clean the place up once they get there. Once they arrive, he cringes as he opens the front door, only to be taken aback by his home looking perfectly normal and clean. A grin spreads across his face as Tara stretches from her cushion in the window. ("Honestly, Mr. Dekarios, did you think I'd continue to live in such a state?")

He carries around a small portrait of tav in his pocket. Origin of this hc here lol

I know in the epilogue, the orb and all traces of it are completely gone, but I like to think that it left a scar. In certain lighting you can see that it's not just on his skin like a tattoo, but it's almost carved into his flesh, like a scar. I'm sure Mystra could smooth the skin where the orb was like it never happened, but we all know she's a petty bitch, so I think it's reasonable to think she could have taken the scar away, but chose to leave it as a reminder of Gale's mistake. The dark, weaving swirls have turned pale pink and translucent. Tav likes to mindlessly run their fingers over it while they lie in bed at night.

Speaking of, you cannot tell me the orb doesn't leave Gale with some sort of chronic pain, even after it's cured. I'm sure it's not as intense as the arcane hunger he felt before, but there are bound to be days where he's just very lethargic or dealing with lingering pain/discomfort similar to what he felt before the orb was dormant.

On a lighter note--he always has music playing in his home. Whether it's the piano in his study or an enchanted lyre he's charmed to float around in the kitchen as he cooks.

[alpydk]

Circles

Don't mind me. Just thinking about Chapter 14 of @senualothbrok's The Difference (Read it, if you've not.) So yeah, just a minor bit of existential dread to start your weekends with.

Gale felt as if he’d been there before, looking at the campfire, contemplating over tadpoles and mindflayers, hearing the various things his companion had to say. He glanced up at them and, for a moment, his vision swam. Tav? A gnome druid, a night elf cleric, a tiefling sorcerer. So many faces from so many other times merging into one abstract grain of sand.

Shaking his head, he returned to his thoughts, the flickering of the fire easier to focus on than what was clearly the disruption caused by tadpole and orb. “What a difference a day makes…”

Tav ran around the campsite as the stars rose in the night sky, the same circle between Gale and his companions, and always in the same order. He observed as Astarion was the first to be run to, questioned multiple times about past, present, and future before Tav inevitably ran to Lae’zel, then Wyll, then Shadowheart. Gale stood cautiously optimistic that it would then be his turn, ready to explain further about Waterdeep or the Weave, but Tav never came over. Days and nights passed where he would sit at camp alone, and yet all this did was give him more time to think.

He’d been here before, he realised as he saw Mystra’s conjured face in his hand, one that he had used for company on too many recent lonely nights. He could see the look in her eyes, one of contempt, hear demands of her asking for a crown, merged with orders of his demise. A time of Gale of Waterdeep entwined with Dekarios, ruptured by the lightning of a god he somewhat recognised.

Tav broke his concentration before he could delve further into the image. This had been the first night in a while where he had been approached and yet, just as it had before, it all felt strangely familiar. The channelling was successful; the image shared of what Tav wished, but it was as if Gale already knew, the briefest look of hesitation flitting across his face before he nodded in approval. What harm was friendship, after all?

The days passed, the same routine, the same circle trod into the campsite grounds by Tav’s leather boots. Astarion, Lae’zel, Wyll, the interruption of Karlach, onto Shadowheart. Some days it seemed even odder to Gale as if the group left and returned in mere moments, time lost to them all in but a fraction of an instant. Day turned to night and yet he felt he had not moved from the shade of his tent. Tav would do the same circle as if seeing if anything had suddenly changed, and he would feel the hungering of the orb quicken as if the magic artefact given a day, or was it longer, before faded from his system.

Some days, the concept of free will flooded him. The same words being heard, the same choices made, the same circles over and over. Tav went with Astarion into the night. Gale would receive news of the orb, each time a little less shocked. At Moonrise, he would be talked out of ending it all. Every time, every face of Tav before him flickering across dimensions, and he would agree using words that weren’t his own. The same path followed; the same boulder pushed for all eternity.

“Go to Hell.” The words came from Gale without feeling, the human bard standing before him with the same scripted reply he’d heard a thousand times before from a thousand different faces. He did not know who or what Tav was, nor did he know whether it was Mystra or Ao pulling his strings, controlling his actions. All Gale did know was that there was no escape, that the orb had not truly been the consequence of his actions as he’d once believed.

The flames danced before him freely, as they had so many nights before. In his mind, he let out a desperate scream, begging for release, but his lips, however, produced the words he’d heard a thousand times over, just as they always did.  “‘Go to Hell.’ An everyday expression. So trivial it’s almost meaningless.” He knew what would come next as, behind his dark eyes, he sobbed, his life no longer his own. “But we’ve seen Hell. It’s real. And it isn’t trivial.”

[underprivilegedcactus]

Something has been niggling at the back of my mind about Gale and his falling out with Mystra for a while now.

Before we begin, I feel the need to put a disclaimer here and say that I love Gale to pieces and even if this thing I've been thinking about turned out to be canon, I still want to drop kick Mystra. But like I said, a though occured to me about the circumstances of their break up.

In short, what if their breakup wasn't because Gale didn't listen to Mystra when she told him to not go after the piece of the weave he thought was hers? What if, instead, it was the final straw after a long history of Gale going after sources of power that Mystra repeatedly told him to leave alone?

Ignoring the fact that wizards are pushed to always aim higher anyways, we know that Gale is someone who has always sought out more power, opinions of (most) others and consequences be damned. How many terrifyingly powerful objects ended up in his tower because Mystra mentioned them and he decided to collect them? How many did she emphatically tell him to leave alone because they were too dangerous? How many times did he nearly cause a disaster because he assumed that because he was the mighty Gale of Waterdeep, it wouldn't go wrong? How many times did Mystra or Elminster have to save his ass?

To be clear, even if this is the truth it still doesn't justify her treatment of him, but to me it would make a bit more sense as to why she ghosted him after he absorbed the orb. It's still on brand for her to do that after one big disaster, but cutting off all contact is frankly a bit extreme for a first offense, regardless of the magnitude of the failure. But if the orb came after a series of situations where she told him to leave stuff be or to be more patient and he repeatedly refused to listen to her, I think even I would be pissed off enough to not want to talk to him either, at least not for a while.

No one appreciates having their knowledge and advice repeatedly ignored, especially if you are literally the primary source on all things magic. The literal Goddess of Magic told him this was neither something she wanted nor was it something that Gale was equipped to handle, and Gale thought he knew better anyways. And I know there's a million fair reasons as to why Gale is the way he is, the least of which is from going through the Gifted Person (TM) experience where you're told all your life that you're special and head and shoulders above your peers. It's still harmful to believe you know better than people objectively more qualified.

Unfortunately, this can be hard to see under how vile Mystra is to him. I'll probably write about that soon in another novel of a post, but I just wanted to throw out a potential angle that some people might have missed when it comes to Mystra and Gale's breakup. Again, it's not canon, and it's not even my own personal headcanon or anything, but it is something that's come to mind when thinking about their relationship and how it ended. I still love Gale, and if anything this just adds a really interesting potential layer to his backstory.

P.S.: It has also occured to me that Gale was extraordinarily lucky that whatever magical seal he broke when he opened the book didn't just immediately cause the Karsus weave to detonate right then and there and kill thousands of people in Waterdeep. Gale's mistake was honest, but it was an extremely foolish one and entirely preventable.

P.P.S: Editing some typos and also wholeheartedly agreeing that Gale wasn't only looking for raw power, but knowledge and pushing the boundaries of the weave! ☺️

[letters-from-dekarios]

midnight tears

summary: stricken with grief, anxiety, and the shadow of his former, prouder, self, gale takes to seeking comfort in the swift end he dreamt up many moons ago. tav finds him before it’s too late.

or: gale considers exploding and tav stops him

word count: 2.1k

tags: PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING: this story contains themes of self-harm/suicide. it is not my intention to trigger or harm anyone who comes across this story, but, rather, to share a side of a fictional character I’ve taken a liking to. please do NOT read if these themes, discussed in a reasonable concept of detail, could potentially harm your mental state.

other tags include; gn!tav, act 1 storyline, major gale angst, im still a part of the mystra hate club

He had it all planned out. Written down. He had a failsafe in case things went wrong. Timed it down to the letter, against all the knowledge he had on the orb within him. If worse came to worst, Gods he hoped it wouldn’t, he knew precisely how he wanted to go.

When he first gathered the understanding of the Netherese orb within him, its desperate need to consume the Weave, he was confused. Which was a rare occurrence for him. He was always so knowledgeable that confusion rarely ever happened. He’d question things and soon find an answer, but with this.. no, this was different.

In his quest to prove his love, he only proved his egotism. Something he had tried to stay away from and here he was, indulging in it. How proud was he that he could be able to love the Goddess and Mother of all magic and still be unhappy? Still try to attain more power, more love? How dare he, a mortal man, try and capture the Weave for himself?

Was it really out of love, or was the idea of power and the concept of Godhood too tempting to be toyed with? How did he get this far? How did he manage to do it in the first place, if not by his handling of the Weave itself? He had all the power he could hold and still wanted more.

He was the epitome of a power-hungry, egotistical, jackass.

He deserved the consequences he now had to suffer. He could blame no one other than himself for Mystra’s decision to make him live with it. She could have, very well, killed him right there. But she, by her merciful graces (or what the larger part of Gale perceived as merciful), allowed him to live. He would sacrifice himself to right the wrongs he had created.

As he lay in his tent, one uneventful night, staring at the stars, he pondered the plan he had in his back pocket. He had it figured out for years now, so it wasn’t a question, but he questioned the actual statistics of it. He pulled out a little vial from his bag and turned it over in his hands, reading the neat handwriting over and over again. Midnight tears. A poison whose consequences would only take effect at midnight exactly. If he consumed it in the early morning, traveled far into the Underdark and waited, he would avoid injuring any innocents in the process.

It was a desirable end to his misery, he concluded. If he woke before Tav and the rest of the group, he could be gone before they arose. He doubted they would notice he was missing.

He knew Tav had accepted him for his faults, his lies, and everything else with him. They had encouraged him to stay traveling with them, but he didn’t feel as though he deserved to.

He wondered what the poison would feel like, how it would taste. The seller who gave it to him was vague on the details, and Gale didn’t know if he preferred that or the horrid truth of receiving every component.

He set the poison to the side and conjured a dagger in his hands. He twisted it between his palms, considering the other option to poison. It wasn’t the preferred way to go, but it was his failsafe in case the poison went bad. All he had to do was plunge the magic knife into his chest, and off he would go.

It wouldn’t be the prettiest, he knew that, but it would be better than nothing. His blood pooling out onto the ground, pained cries filling the air- he’d apologize again and again to Mystra, his goddess, his first love, telling her how sorry he was for the stupid mistakes he’d made.

His mouth would taste like copper, eventually, and by then he’d begin slipping away. His body would go numb, he figured, and then his hands would drop. He would fall onto his back, staring up into the vast sky of Faerún, before everything disappeared.

He had a letter written already for his soul to pass on to Tav and the others. He’d apologize to them, too, for letting them down. For not becoming the man they hoped and wished he was. For everything. There wasn’t enough time in all the realms where he could be forgiven for his mistakes.

The longer he sat there, with his thoughts, the more he twisted the knife between his hands. The more he sunk into himself, the harder he pushed it in his palms.

He didn’t even realize he was bleeding until he felt his hands become oddly slippery. He sat up and looked down, his eyes going wide as he saw the blood trickling down his fingers. His heart began to race, his chest becoming tight. He couldn’t live with himself if he died now and took out all his companions with him. Though, maybe he was just being dramatic.

The knife in his hands disappeared and he looked clearer at the cuts on his hands, cursing himself under his breath. He grabbed a nearby carafe of water and poured it over his hands, hissing in pain while they stung.

“Goddess forgive me..” he sighed under his breath, looking around for some cloth he could use to cover his wounds. Then, during one of their battles, he could play it off as an injury received. Why did he do this?

Why was he like this?

He could never know the answer to those questions. The questions that pulled at his heart and broke down in his mind- they had no real answers, they never were able to be answered to begin with. In all his years living as some high, extraordinary Chosen of Mystra, he never found the courage to become insightful of himself. He never understood why he was never enough, or why he couldn’t do things right. Why did he feel the need to lie to cover his imperfections? Why was he so scared that if he messed up, he would never be exonerated?

Mystra had planted the seed in his head that he was not worthy of forgiveness, that death would be the only thing to balance his scale. It got to him. Terribly so, Gale began to believe that she was right. After all, how could one commit such a sin against a God and not be considered unworthy of their forgiveness? He had tried to usurp her authority, whether for love or pride, and had to deal with her wrath. She had every right to not pardon him. She had every right to make him feel how he did.

Though he was rather calm in these situations, no matter what was happening around him, right now he was panicking. His breath picked up, his chest rising and falling faster by the second. Why couldn’t he find a damn cloth?

“Gale?” Tav’s sweet voice broke him from his thoughts. Was he crying, too? He couldn’t tell anymore. He was a whole mess and a half.

“Tav-“

“What happened?” The way they spoke, so much concern in their voice, he couldn’t help but be ashamed of what he had become. How could he sit here, hurting, and hurt others around him? The look Tav gave him was enough to break a thousand realms over again, and he felt awful for making them deal with him.

“I- I don’t know…” he replied, the panic in his eyes as evident as ever.

Tav disappeared for a moment but quickly returned with more water and some towels. They sat down beside him, sighing softly as they took his hands in their own.

He winced, pulling back for a moment before Tav eased him, gently cleaning the wounds.

“Gale..” they started again, and he looked away, ignoring the wounds on his hands. Gods, he was so stupid.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” he replied, taking a breath as Tav made sure his hands were okay.

“Gale,” they repeated, glancing down suspiciously at the poison beside him.

He looked to his side, sighed, and then opened his mouth to speak. How could he even begin?

“You promised me,” Tav sighed, waving their hands and muttering a small healing spell. Soon enough, the wounds closed, and his hands were clean again.

“I wasn’t going to-“

“Gale-“ they sighed again, running a hand over their face. “Why do you even have it? We discussed this. It won’t come down to that.”

“We don’t know that.”

Tav looked at him with those sad, puppy-dog eyes. Hurt laced their words, how could Gale be so cruel to himself?

“It’s for safety.”

“Safety of who, Gale? What happens if you accidentally drink it instead of a healing potion? What happens if it ends up in your food?” They asked, eyebrows furrowed together.

“I wouldn’t do that-“

“Oh, come on. We’ve all done it. These damn bottles look so alike! I hardly know the difference between a feather fall and an angelic sleep spell, Gale. It could happen to any of us.” Tav replied, their words rather sharp. Gale flinched, looking down at his fully restored hands.

“I cannot live on if I do not have a clear source of escape should things turn the wrong way,” Gale replied, honest-hearted words clashing with the things he was actually thinking. Yes, he felt that way, but did he think that way? Hardly.

Truth be told, Gale was angry with Mystra. At least, a small part of him was. He had done everything to love her, to prove his love, going so far as bestowing this upon himself, and instead of helping, she cast him aside. If she truly loved him as she claimed to, would he even be here? Why had she left him like this- surely death would have been much kinder. This was just plain cruel.

“I don’t want you to think like that, Gale. I want you with me, with our party, for as long as you can be. You’re supposed to stay by our side, not have a plan to leave us,” Tav took his hands in their own again, looking him in the eye. “Please, Gale. I want you to live. I need you to live. Planning your demise does no one any good, especially not yourself.”

“Mystra-“

“Enough about Mystra!” Tav dropped his hands, frustrated now. “We know. I know. Why are you so devoted to her when all she’s done is bring you pain? It makes no sense to me that you would continue to suffer in her name. You need to be free, Gale. Netherese orb or not, and whether you like it or not, you’re in this tadpole journey with us. I don’t give two damns what Mystra thinks or feels. This is about you, not her.”

Those words struck him. Yes, that tiny part of him agreed, Mystra was harsh for leaving him like this. She was rather harsh to toss him aside after doting on him and his abilities for so many years. But the larger part of him outweighed that piece, and he could only help but feel guilty for thinking such things about her.

“But-“

“No buts, Gale. You’re going to stop this stupid ‘I’m going to blow myself up for Mystra’ nonsense. I know it’s a part of who you are, we all have things we have to deal with, but please. For me, for all of us, you can’t go on with this weight on your back.” Tav sighed, taking his face gently in their hands and wiping away his tears.

“I’ll try to do better, I promise,” Gale replied, letting his face rest in their soothing hands. Why did he always hurt those that he loved? He couldn’t answer that. He never could.

“The next time you start contemplating your death, please, Gale, talk to me. Talk to any of us! We all want to be here for you, and I know I would be so incredibly miserable if we lost you,” They looked into his eyes and pulled his head against their own. Their foreheads touched, Gale’s eyes shut, and for a brief moment, he felt at peace. No matter what happened he knew he had friends to rely on. And for that, he was thankful.

Tav made sure he was alright before returning to the campfire to rest. He tucked the poison into the furthest part of his bag, laid himself to rest, and let his mind slip away into the night.

He would keep the poison and the letter handy, just in case, and it would take quite some time for him to be fully able to talk to the others when he was feeling like exploding, but it would happen. Eventually, he would be okay. Eventually, he would find peace.

[recitedemise]

Can you imagine Gale during his isolation? An entire year, an entire year with little more than the shadows swelling in the corner of your library and the growing thoughts pressing hard against the cage of your skull. Gale with his Molotov of emotions, his bouts of extreme sorrow, bone-crushing hopelessness, the anger, the bitterness, the acceptance of a guilt he has no business accepting. Imagine how he suffered before he found out how to temper the teeth and hunger of the orb in his chest. Did he suffer? Did the rot spiral to a frightening degree? What he thought when he felt the skin of his arm break, spot the drip of blood that poured not red but purple, a shade of purple so steep and dark that it paled night and voids and whole penumbras. How he felt as Tara turned her eyes on him, her composure riled, ruptured just a touch with a worry she tries so very hard not to show around Mr. Dekarios. How he felt getting letters from acquaintances, not friends, that dwindled and dwindled as the months passed on with no response from Gale of Waterdeep, famed archmage and lover of Mystra herself. How he lost so much of his magic. How he felt spurned from the goddess he looked up to for nearly all his life, how he felt when the Weave, when the spells he spent so long learning and perfecting were torn from him, swallowed by this sucking bomb in his bones.

How alone. How quiet. How Tara would leave to find artefacts once they discovered the Weave inside them would balm and thwart his ticking doom by a whisper of time. How, in those days, he would sit there with books he's already read thrice over, his hair speckled with more grey, the beard he's been growing out scratching against his face. His lonely terrace. Mother's tone of increasing concern in her hand-written letters, piled together on Gale's desk with quaint twine, the broken seal of House Dekarios waxed in an indigo shade over the parchment. It smells of her. He misses home, and home has never felt so far.

[lendeah]

After the Weave 1.

series masterlist

Summary:

After defeating the Nether Brain, Gale makes a promise to Tav: he will move to Waterdeep and marry her. However, he breaks his pledge when he feels the pull of his former goddess, Mystra, and leaves to forge the Karsus Crown and become a god, which leaves Tav feeling betrayed and alone.

Astarion, now fully consumed by the shadows, offers Tav a new mission. Together, they try to rebuild themselves and move on from their past. As they rely on each other in unexpected ways, they find a new sense of purpose and meaning, and realize that fate will always lead you back to where you belong.

Pairing: Astarion x OFC!Tav, past Gale x OFC!Tav

Tags: Angst, Drinking to Cope, References to Depression, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Emotional Baggage, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Post-Break Up, Tav finds herself again with Astarion, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, language.

Also on AO3

Being with him was like being enveloped in a warm, golden glow; his presence adding vibrancy and light to every moment. Even in the bleakest moments, when I felt lost in the chaos of battle, he remained a constant beacon of hope and love. His strong arms always provided support and comfort, our souls intertwining in ways I never thought possible. But every now and then, when the chaos around us subsided and we had a moment of peace, Gale would pull me away from the rest of our troop. We would find a quiet spot, away from prying eyes, and just be together. In those moments, it was like the rest of the world didn't exist. It was just him and me.

"With you, I forget my goddess. I love you" he had whispered in my ear, under a sea of stars. And in that moment, it felt like all of my doubts and fears disappeared. Gale's love for me was real and true; it was something worth holding onto amidst the chaos of war.

So as we stood victorious over the defeated Brain, I turned to the wizard with a triumphant smile and tears streaming down my cheeks. This was what we had risked our lives for, what we had fought and bled for.

"Beloved," Gale whispered, his voice brimming with emotion. "We have faced countless perils together, defying fate itself. Our love has withstood trials and tribulations that most would crumble under. I cannot fathom another day without you by my side."He took a step closer, our bodies gravitating towards each other as if pulled by an invisible force.

The crashing waves and salty sea air filled their lungs as they stood on the decks of the city, overlooking the ocean. The sun was setting in a blaze of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over our faces. "Let us leave this place," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "We should go back home to Waterdeep. We can build a life together, away from the battles and the constant threat of danger. We can find solace in each other's arms, and create a haven where love and peace reign supreme." he took a deep breath, mustering the courage to add, "Let's get married." His words resonated deep within my soul, stirring a longing I hadn't realized was there. Yes, Waterdeep, the city of wonders and dreams, seemed like the perfect place to start our new chapter.

"Yes," I whispered, the word escaping my lips like a fervent prayer. "I'd be honored to marry you, Gale Dekarios."

He took me that same night, slow and deliberate, as if we had all the time in the world. As we laid in each other's arms, the the warm body next to mine, our intertwined hands, and synchronized breaths felt like an unbreakable bond, our future stretching out before us like an endless summer day. And through the days following the battle, it did. Helping reconstruct buildings, tending the wounded, and giving food and shelter to those in need; everything was keeping us so busy that I didn't notice the faraway look in his eyes. He still held me close at night, his touch as loving as ever, but something seemed to be weighing heavily on his mind.

One morning, exactly one week after the last battle, when my hand reached out instinctively to the side of the bed where Gale used to lay, I felt coldness that wasn't there before. The familiar scent of his cologne lingered in the air, but the silence revealed a very different reality. A heavy feeling settled in my chest as I tried to swallow down the lump in my throat. My eyes scanned our small tent frantically, searching for any sign of him, but all that remained was a single letter addressed to me. Its edges were slightly crumpled, evidence of many folds and unfolding during long nights. With trembling hands, I opened it and read every word carefully, trying to hold onto every piece of him that I could.

To my love

The crown is somewhere in the Chionthar. If I salvage the stones I can reforge it. Only then can I attain the power to protect us from all harm, my love. We could rule together, you as my goddess by my side as I ascend to godhood. I know I pledged to forsake my past for you, but now I must break that vow. The weight of this curse is too heavy for me to bear alone, and I cannot bear the thought of living with it forever. I need to confront her, to stand as her equal this time. I will do everything in my power to surpass her, to make up for all the wrongs she has done, even if it means leaving you behind. But you must understand that if I am successful, I will return to you and make up for all the time we have lost. Please hold onto hope and know that my heart aches with every step I take away from you.

Farewell, my love, until we can be reunited once again.

My tears turned into a relentless stream, blurring the words on Gale's letter as I read it for what felt like the hundredth time. Each phrase cut deeper than the last, carving painful wounds that would never heal. How could he do this to me? Betrayal and rage consumed me as I struggled to understand how the person who had asked me to marry him barely days before could turn their back on it for the sake of power and vengeance.

After that, everything became a blur. I found myself falling into a rhythm of constant busyness. I would wake up at the crack of dawn and immediately begin tackling the tasks that awaited me. And while it brought me some sense of fulfillment to help those in need, it also served as a convenient distraction from Gale's absence and his quest for power. If I kept myself busy enough, I wouldn't have time to dwell on my shattered relationship with Gale, on the nightmares that plagued my mind with the blood and death I had been through in the last year.

I had become known as the go-to person for any problem, big or small. I made sure to accept every task that came my way, no matter how difficult or time-consuming it may have been. Whether it was helping someone mend their broken roof or comforting a grieving family, I threw myself into each task with determination and purpose. But it wasn't just physical tasks that occupied my time. Many villagers would come to me seeking advice or simply wanting someone to listen to their troubles. And so, in addition to being their physical savior, I became their emotional support as well. For that brief moment when they smiled or thanked me for my help, all the weight on my shoulders lifted and for just a moment, everything felt okay again. Yet, behind my forced smile and empathetic words lay the reality of my shattered existence, haunted each night by the memories of my past as the darkness enveloped me.

Each night, I awoke drenched in sweat, my mind haunted by visions of cruel emperors, slaughtered gnomes, and fallen tieflings. The stench of death clung to me, as if the blood was still fresh on my hands. And the nightmare continued, as I woke up alone in a dirty basement, with no one to turn to. So it became my mission not to sleep; if I was busy and distracted, I didn't have time to think about Gale or death. And if my actions were making other people happy in the process, then everyone won.

However, as the days passed, I could feel myself becoming more and more distant from my friends. With Halsin, Wyll and Karlach gone, Lae'zel busy settling her people in the city, Shadowheart tirelessly rebuilding Selûne's temple, and Astarion retreating into the shadows, I felt completely alone. I found myself longing for their company, for the familiar banter and laughter we used to share. But every time I even attempted to reach out to them, something held me back. Maybe it was fear of being a burden or just not wanting to face my own emotions by confronting theirs. And even on those few occasions I did meet with Lae'zel or Shadowheart, I couldn't bring myself to tell them about Gale's letter or how much it hurt me because I couldn't bear to see their pity or judgment.

"He's just traveling. You know him, always seeking knowledge!" I lied through gritted teeth.

But deep down, I knew that the lie was eating away at my soul. The truth was too painful to voice out loud, even to my closest companions.

So, I buried my agony in feeling helpful, as I always did. I worked tirelessly to provide aid to those who had lost their homes and loved ones. I took on more tasks, stayed up later, and pushed myself beyond my limits. But it seemed like the harder I tried to deny my emotions, the louder they screamed for attention. My exhaustion finally caught up to me, both physically and mentally. One day, as I was helping a family rebuild their home after a devastating fire, I collapsed from exhaustion. The family helped me, of course, but word quickly spread that I had fallen ill. People began to avoid me, their once-welcoming demeanor turning cold and distant. They no longer sought out my help or accepted any aid I offered. This only added to my mounting frustration and despair, until finally, I reached my breaking point.

With nothing but time on my hands, the memories of Gale flooded back with a force that knocked me off balance. All those moments we shared flashed before my eyes in vivid detail – our first meeting on the portal, our adventures in the underdark, where we had first kissed, him asking to marry me... It was like ripping open an old wound that never fully healed. But even worse were the memories of slashing, cutting, severing flesh, of fresh blood and dead bodies. I needed another distraction; and that distraction came in the form of wine and rum. But even as I drowned my sorrows in ale, I knew it was a temporary escape. The sweet burn of alcohol numbed the pain for a little while, but it always came back tenfold once the drinks wore off. Before long, I found myself frequenting taverns more and more often. It was my new coping mechanism, my escape from reality. With each passing day, I could feel myself spiraling deeper into despair and self-pity.

One night, as I stumbled out of yet another tavern, swaying on unsteady legs, the piercing sound of my name being called cut through the fog of alcohol-induced numbness.

"Elara, what-?" The voice was familiar and filled with concern. "Oh gosh... he has left for good, hasn't he?" the tone was gentle but firm.

My dizzy eyes can make up a silver updo and tan skin. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I glance over at Shadowheart. Her usually warm and welcoming expression was replaced by a mix of concern and disappointment.

I let out a bitter laugh before taking another swig of rum. "No shit," my words are slurred and barely coherent. "I can't believe you really bought into that whole traveling bullshit."

Shadowheart's expression shifts from concern to irritation as she leans closer to me. "Don't you dare mock me," she hisses. "You know as well as I do that something is wrong with you."

I smile grimly

"Oh, so now you care?" I say, trying to glare at Shadowheart through bleary eyes. "You have been away for months and it's only now you decide to play the savior card."

Shadowheart's expression darkened at my words, and I could see the hurt in her eyes. But I am too angry, too drunk, to care.

"Well, I'm doing just fine," I continue, taking another long sip of my drink. "So why don't you return to your temple or whatever shithole you came from and leave me alone."

She rolls her eyes.

"Yes. Of course, you're doing fine. You're so fine that I found you lying in a tavern, wallowing in self-pity, drunk off your ass. Clearly the picture of good health and sound mind."

I scoffed, staring at Shadowheart with glazed eyes. "What do you know about me? About what I've been through?" My words slurred together, fueled by the mixture of anger and alcohol coursing through my veins. "You think you can just waltz back into my life and judge me? Well, you can't. You have no idea what it feels like to be abandoned by the person you love."

Shadowheart's brows furrowed, her normally composed demeanor faltering for a moment. "I do know" she snapped "In fact, the person I love is all the way down in the freaking avernus!"

The word hung in the air between us, the weight of its significance crashing down on me like a heavy stone. I stare at Shadowheart, the alcohol dulling my senses but unable to numb the pang of guilt in my chest. She's right - I hadn't even considered what she must be going through, separated from Karlach.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, lowering my eyes in shame.

Shadowheart's expression softens slightly.

"It's alright. I know you're hurting." She pauses, choosing her next words carefully. "But drinking yourself to death won't make the pain go away. It will only make things worse."

I struggle to keep my mouth shut, but my stubbornness gets the best of me and I shake my head defiantly. "I don't care," I mutter through clenched teeth, taking another long sip of my drink. But deep down, I know that's a lie. All I want is to forget, but part of me knows that I can't just push these feelings away so easily.

Shadowheart sighs and reaches to grab my hand.

"Listen to me," she says firmly, looking me in the eyes with a determined gaze. "I know how hard this is for you. But you can't give up like this. We need you - your friends need you."

A surge of anger rises within me at her words, and I jerk my hand away from hers.

"Don't talk to me about friends," I snap bitterly. "Where were my friends when I needed them? Everyone left." I choke "Everyone always leaves."

Shadowheart's face creases "We were all dealing with grief in our own ways."

I scoff and take another gulp of my drink.

"Grief? Is that what you call it? How convenient."

Shadowheart's eyes narrow slightly at my accusation, but she keeps her composure. "I never abandoned you," she says firmly."None of us did. We were worried about you."

I let out a bitter laugh.

"Sure, you were all so worried."

After a long moment, she lets out an exhausted sigh, seemingly coming to terms with the fact that I will not budge on my decision. "You know what? Fine. Drink yourself into oblivion," she says with a resigned tone. "But just know that when you're ready to face reality, we'll be waiting." Slowly, she turns and leaves the dimly lit street.

----------------------------------------------

Several days later, I find myself in a similar situation, but at a different place. I wanted to ensure that none of the others will attempt to track me down. While Shadowheart's words still hangered in my mind, I couldn't help but feel shame at the person I have become. It was hard to admit that I needed their help. Accepting it would mean admitting defeat and acknowledging that I hit rock bottom. But the hardest part was accepting that Gale would never come back to me, enduring the nightmares without any ale to numb them.

I sit alone at a table in the corner, watching the other clients as they laugh and drink with their companions. I envy their untroubled attitude and wish I could join in on their happiness. But deep down, I know that my grief is consuming me.

A group of rowdy half-orcs stumble over to my table, clearly drunk and looking for trouble. I try to ignore them, hoping they will just pass by. But instead, they stop right beside me and leer down at me with malicious grins.

"Looks like we found ourselves a little present," one of them slurs, gesturing towards me with his mug.

Another one takes a step closer and smirks at my face, his breath reeking of alcohol. "Look at her, all alone and pathetic."

My hands grip the edge of the table tightly as I feel a surge of anger rising within me. If I had my magic... But I take a deep breath and try to keep my voice steady as I respond,"There is nothing here for you."

The orcs, however, don't seem to care about my words as they continue to make crude comments about my appearance.

"All those scars, what are you? A mercenary?" one of them snorts, taking another step closer.

I feel a lump form in my throat as I struggle to hold back tears. Normally, I would have stood up for myself or even fought back, but tonight I am too lost in my own misery to even react. Suddenly, one of them reaches out and grabs my arm forcefully, causing me to flinch in fear.

"Come on, babe," he slurs. "I'll make you forget all about your troubles."

I start to panic, my mind racing as I search for a way out of this situation.

But before things can escalate any further, a strong hand grabs one of the men's wrists and forcefully pulls him away from me.

I look up to see a familiar face - For a second, I think it's going to be Shadowheart again, a flash of ivory hair aprearing in the corner of my eye. But then I realize it's someone much, much worse.

"Leave her alone," he growls, his voice full of authority.

It seems like they want to replicate, but once they take a look at his bared fangs, the half-orcs hesitate for a moment before backing off and leaving the tavern with grumbles and curses. When he turns his head back to me, Astarion has his usual smirk plastered over his face.

"Hello, my dear" His sharp features and piercing eyes send a shiver down my spine. "I see you've fallen quite low since our last encounter."

"What do you want, Astarion?" I spit out through gritted teeth, still shaken. Yet another companion to make fun of my state. Great.

Astarion sits down across from me, still wearing his smirk. "Just curious to see how you were coping without your favorite vampire comrade," he taunts, taking a sip of his drink. "Not very well, by the looks of you." he comments, gesturing towards my disheveled appearance. I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment as I try to smooth out my hair and straighten my clothes. This is not how I wanted to be seen by any of my friends, let alone Astarion.

"Whatever" I reply nonchalantly, "Did Shadowheart tell you to come here?"

Astarion smirks, knowing exactly how to push my buttons. "No, no, she didn't. I just happened to be in the area and thought I'd check up on my dear friend." His words drip with sarcasm.

I scoff and take another swig of my drink, trying to ignore him.

"But really," Astarion leans in closer. "What happened? One minute we're all fighting side by side, and the next, you're drowning yourself in ale."

I glared back at him, feeling defensive. "None of your damn business."

He leaned back with a smug grin. "Ah, but I think it is."

I let out an exasperated sigh and take another swig of my drink, hoping he'll get the hint and leave me alone. But as usual, Astarion seems to enjoy getting under my skin. He reaches across the table and grabs my drink before I can protest.

"Hey!" I try to grab it back but he holds it out of reach.

"No more drinking for you," he says with a mock stern expression. "Now tell me what's going on."

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine." I say, trying to dismiss the conversation.

Astarion's eyes narrow as he studies me intently. "Fine? You look like you've been through hell." he states bluntly.

I sigh and run a hand through my hair again, feeling a sense of exhaustion wash over me. Maybe it's because of everything that has happened in the past few days or maybe it's just the alcohol finally catching up to me.

I glare daggers at him and finally relent with a heavy sigh. "Fine. Gale...he's gone."

"Gone?" Astarion's eyebrows raise in surprise. "As in dead?"

I shake my head sadly. "No...just...gone." My voice cracks on the last word and I have to take a deep breath to compose myself.

A look of understanding crosses Astarion's face and he nods slowly. "Well, it looks like he really went all in on his illusions this time."

I sigh, in no mood for jesting.

Astarion, sensing my lack of humor, leans back in his chair and adopts a more serious expression. "I'm sorry for your loss," he says sincerely, sliding my drink back across the table towards me.

I reluctantly take the drink and give him a nod of acknowledgment, appreciating his rare display of empathy."Thank you," I reply, my voice softening slightly. "I appreciate that."

He nods, seemingly lost in thought for a moment before speaking again. "Although, you know, at the end of the day it's Gale we are talking about, so is it really that big of a loss?"

I roll my eyes at Astarion's insensitive comment. "He was still a good boyfriend, despite his flaws," I reply pointedly.

"Hmm..." Astarion seems to be pondering this before shrugging nonchalantly. "Well, if you say so."

I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down before continuing. "Anyway, what do you want from me? You always have an ulterior motive for your visits"

Astarion smirks again, leaning back in his chair. "You know me so well," he drawls sarcastically. "I actually came here with an interesting proposition."

I raise an eyebrow skeptically. "What kind of proposition?"

He smirks, "You see, even though I excel at pretty much everything, it appears I'm struggling with the... spawn issue, if you know what I mean." He pauses dramatically, waiting for my reaction. "And being the hero that you are," he continues with a hint of condescension, "I was wondering if you could grace me with your whole knight in shining armor wisdom and help me out. Not that I actually need it, mind you. I just think even someone as skilled as myself needs guidance in this kind of situations." He leans back in his chair, with a relaxed smile.

"No"

His face falls dramatically. "What? What do you mean no?"

I roll my eyes.

"I mean exactly what I said," I reply firmly, not breaking eye contact with Astarion. "I have no interest in being your 'knight in shining armor' or helping you with any spawn issues. Find someone else to pester."

Astarion's face falls at my immediate rejection, but he quickly composes himself and leans forward with a suave smile. "Come on, darling," he purrs, reaching out to touch my hand. "Think of the thrill, the excitement of facing such a challenge together."He pauses and adds "just like the old times."

A wave of emotion washes over me at the mere thought. Memories of the past flood my mind, when Gale's presence provided a comforting weight on my side. When our group was at its strongest and most united, standing together against all odds. When everything seemed so easy, so at reach.

I reply with a bitter tone, "Those days are gone for good."

Astarion groans "Gosh, will you stop being so dramatic."

I raise an eyebrow at that. He is one to talk.

Astarion chuckles at my eyebrow raise, a playful glint in his eyes. "Touché, my dear." he admits. "But I'm serious about this, you know. We make a great team, you and I. And who knows, maybe hunting down vampire spawn will help distract you from your... sorrows."

I sigh, torn between the desire to wallow in my grief and the possibility of finding some kind of purpose again. I will admit, weeping and drinking myself to sleep every night does, while comforting, sounds sad. Plus, Astarion's proposition is tempting. At least that way I will have something other than ale to distract myself with.

"Fine," I finally relent, surprising both him and myself. "But Just because I'm agreeing to this doesn't mean I have forgotten you haven't reached out in months."

Astarion's smirk widens as he raises an eyebrow mockingly. "Oh, I would never dream of such a thing," he says with exaggerated sincerity."But let's just say, I did save your sorry behind from those hideous orcs. So I'd say we're even now."

I roll my eyes at his theatrics but can't help feeling a glimmer of anticipation deep within me. Perhaps there is still some fight left in me after all.

With a clap of his hands, he exclaims triumphantly,"It's decided then, dear Elara. You'll join me at the Crimson Palace tomorrow. I've already arranged for a room for you here," he says smoothly. "And trust me, it's much more luxurious than any tent or tavern room you've ever stayed in."

My brows furrow

"Absolutely not. I refuse to live in that sinister place." I say firmly. "Much less if it's with you"

Astarion lets out a dramatic sigh. "Oh, of course not. Because living alone in a moldy, cramped basement beneath the barracks is much more appealing."

I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. It almost sounds like he's been planning this for a while now.

"Wait, what? How do you even..." And then, I know. "Shadowheart told you, didn't she? Is there anything she didn't tell you? That damned snitch."

Astarion chuckles at my outburst and shrugs nonchalantly. "She may have mentioned it," he admits with a sly grin."She has always been keen on gossip, after all."

I let out an exasperated sigh and shake my head.

Astarion grins, his red eyes sparkling with amusement "You can't expect me to trust you to do a good job while out of my sight. I mean, from what I see now, you could scape at any moment to get drunk and pass out in the street. And then, what good would that do to our poor spawn?" He says, pretending to be deeply worried.

I roll my eyes and cross my arms defensively. "Fine," I huff. "You win. I'll stay at the Crimson Palace, but only because it's the best option for the spawn."

Astarion raises an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Oh, so you do care about the spawn after all? I'm touched," he says sarcastically.

I shoot him a glare, and he relents with a smirk.

"Alright, alright. Enjoy your drinking session then. But don't forget, tomorrow we have important responsibilities."

"Ah yes, the joys of parenthood" I say sarcastically.

And to my surprise, I don't even finish my drink before returning to my basement, finally having something to look forward to.

[pendragon1400]

I need to rant about Gale for a moment. Long post and spoilers incoming.

I love Gale, but more importantly I really relate to and understand Gale. I have not seen a person in media who so accurately depicts what happens to gifted kids before Gale. The kid that had no friends, because no one wanted to be friends with the class pet/ know it all. The kid who felt pressure to be perfect, bc that was the only time they got praise was when they succeeded. The kid who loved to learn, and was looked at by peers as weird when they tried to show everyone else what they learned.

Gale feels like he is very annoying at times, he feels this way bc he was told that he was annoying. He often comments on how he talks too much, bc other people told him to shut up. Gale feels the need to be perfect, strive for more power over the weave bc that's the one thing he sees as his redeeming feature.

This resonated so much with me. I started reading early, I would read twenty books from the library in the span of a week, and go back for more. I thought that knowing things was cool and would make people like me so I info dumped on everyone around me. I was not funny, I was not cool, I had no friends and was often told to be quite. The one thing I could pride myself on and was praised for was my straight As.

This came crashing down in college when I was in tears over a A- for a final grade. This was than made fun of.

This is one of the reasons I love Gale so much, not just as a romance option, but as a character. I used to watch these heroes or 16 chosen ones and think "I could never react that way, I can't do be that hero." But, with Gale I see why he did things, understand his reactions. It also adds a deeper layer to the romance for me, bc I have felt that soul crushing failure, the fear of being rejected again and I want to reassure Gale that he has nothing to prove for anyone. In every interaction Gale holds his breath for you to turn him down, reject him or tell him he is being to clingy. He wants to love deeply, but is afraid that it will be one-sided again. Just like with Mystra, and the other relationships he had in the past. Gale says that no-one really came to check on him when he locked himself in the tower apart from some wizards, and then they stopped coming. The man is used to be turned down or abandoned when he is not the model of magical perfection.

Also it feels nice to romance someone who will listen to you fact dump about animals or mediaeval society to them, and not only engage in the conversation but also info dump back at you.

[galedekarios]

gale's early access dialogue transcripts - part 2 b: the loss scene

in early access, gale had two additional major scenes in act i: the deer stew scene and the loss scene, both of which would happen during a long rest at camp.

the scenes in early access usually happened in this order:

-1: first night long rest scene (still in the final game) -2: mirror image scene (still in the final game) -3: deer stew scene (cut content / partially reused in act i) -4: weave scene (still in the final game) -5: loss scene (cut content) -6: tiefling party scene (ea version cut / partially reused in act ii last night alive scene)

you can watch the entire scene here. below you'll find the transcript of the scene itself as well as some additional info / context.

the loss scene revealed more about gale's life before the game, his abilities as a chosen of mystra and as an archwizard, as well as his status and his relationship with mystra. sadly, it was cut and only seems to have survived as (as of now) obsolete code:

at a long rest, gale would have a ! and stand by the fire, trying and failing to cast a spell:

Gale: [Fails to cast a spell] Gale: Khat-Tsjin Deth-Thra! Protag: [Wizard]: That was a failed spell if ever I heard one.  Gale: Failure. You'd think I'd be used to it by now. It’s getting late. I think I'll turn in. Perhaps some sleep will do me good. - Protag [Option 1]: You don't sound very happy there, Gale. Gale: Happiness is like a stray cat; sometimes it seeks you out, sometimes it ignores you. Tonight, I'm ignored. It's getting late. I think I'll turn in. Perhaps some sleep will do me good. - Protag [Option 2]: Is something wrong? Gale: Let's just say not all is right. But that goes for all of us. - Protag [Option 3]: Do you mind? I’d like some peace and quiet Gale: Quiet you can have – peace I can’t guarantee. Especially not peace of mind.

Protag [Wizard]: I didn't recognize your hand gestures. What spell were you trying to cast? Gale: A bygone spell from a bygone age. It doesn't matter. - Protag [Option 1]: They say you should never go to bed angry Gale: Isn’t that advice for couples? The only one I’m angry with is myself. Please – just let it rest. - Protag [Option 2]: Ever the mystery man, aren’t you? Gale: I simply have a lot on my mind. - Protag [Option 3]: Suit yourself. Goodnight. Gale: Goodnight.

Protag [Option 1]: [if Protag intiated Gale's romance during the Weave scene] Come, you know I care about you. I showed you when we shared that spell. Gale: So you did. Very well. -> See below - Protag [Option 2]: [Insight] We shared the Weave the other night. Now share what's on your mind.    Gale: [Failure] Tonight's not a night for sharing. Tonight's a night for regrets. With that I bid you an evening better than my own.  Gale: [Success] -> See below - Protag [Option 1]: [Persuasion] I’m the leader of this party. I need to know what’s going on. Gale: [Success]: Very well. Just now, I was trying to cast a spell I once cast with ease, but I failed. You see, this fire – there was a time that I could make it come alive. That it would take the shape of a dragon and roar in delight. There was a time I could silence a Beholder with a word, and lift a tower from its foundations with a flourish. There was a time I was all but one with the Weave. But no more – a mere shadow of the wizard I used to be. Why? Because I’ve lost. Gale [Failure] You're the leader and I will follow you where you go, not down the path of my own regrets. With that I bid you good night. - Protag [Option 2]: [Intimidation] You will tell me, and you’ll tell me now. Gale: [Failure] I said ‘please’, but that courtesy was a mere formality. What I meant was; you will let it rest. With that I bid you an evening better than my own.  Gale: [Success]: Very well. -> See above

Protag [Option 1]: I don’t understand. What is it that you’ve lost? Gale: I’ve lost… - Protag [Option 2]: Who are you? Gale: I am the man who came after – after having lost... - Protag [Option 3]: If this is meant to be suspenseful, I assure you it’s not. Gale: You don’t understand! I’ve lost… - Protag [Option 4]: It’s all right, you don’t have to tell me. Gale: Thank you. You’re a good friend. I want you to know that  - Protag [Option 5]: [Persuasion]: You can tell me. You can trust me. Gale [Failure]: Trust is not the issue. The issue is that the truth doesn’t matter. Secret or revealed, the outcome is the same.  Gale [Success]: I’ve lost Mystra. I sought to impress her personally. To turn the eye of my muse upon me. To win the favour of a goddess. But I failed, and all I invoked was death and dismissal. My death. Her dismissal. - Protag [Option 6]: [Insight] Go on. Every burden is easier to carry when shared. Gale [Failure]: I’m strong enough. I’ll carry on alone. With that I bid you an evening better than my own. (Die/Dice Roll Fail) Gale: [Sucess] An apt enough observation.  I've... lost... Mystra. I sought to impress her personally. - Protag [Cleric of Mystra]: I'm sorry. I cannot begin to understand being abandoned by the goddess. Gale: Thank you. You're a good friend. I often think of that moment we shared- - Protag [Cleric of Mystra]: When devotion is blind, the goddess loses sight of you. Rightly too. Gale: You pray to the goddess for every spell and every blessing. You devote your life to her – are we truly so different? Then again, if that is how you judge me, there’s little I can do to change your mind. But know that I have this ambition still. First to save myself, and after that, the licence to dream.

Protag [Option 1]: I’m sorry for you. Protag [Option 2]: I don't know what to make of what you've told me, but I sympathise. Gale: Thank you. You’re a good friend.  Gale: [Weave scene wasn't romantic] I want you to know that. I consider myself very lucky to have found you. -> Protag can initiate alternate romance route here -> See below - Gale: [Weave scene was romantic] I often think of that moment we shared together – one under the Weave. I hope you think about it too. / I'm glad to know you think about it too. [end] - Protag [Option 3]: Another fool pays for his arrogance. A tale as old as time. Gale: Arrogance? Ambition, rather. And ambition is a fine thing – until suddenly it no longer is. Then again, if that is how you judge me, there’s little I can do to change your mind. But know that I have this ambition still. First to save myself, and after that, the licence to dream. [end]

the loss scene also offered another way to initiate gale's romance:

Narrator: *You sense a moment of unspoken affection. You want to know where it may lead.*  Gale: I consider myself very lucky to have found you. Protag [Option 1]: I think perhaps we could be more than friends. Gale: Perhaps. - Protag [Option 2]: I consider myself lucky too Gale: Good. Goodnight. And thank you for your patient understanding. / And try not to think too poorly of me. A cat can look at a king. A wizard can look at a goddess.  - Protag [Option 3]: Don’t get carried away imagining feelings that aren’t there. Gale: I see. Say no more. Goodnight. And thank you for your patient understanding. - Protag [Option 4]: You are a good friend too, Gale. Gale: Hold on to that thought. I may just have to remind you before all is said and done. Goodnight. And thank you for your patient understanding. - Protag [Option 5]: Lets not get sentimental, shall we? Gale: Fair enough. Goodnight. And thank you for your patient understanding.

after the loss scene ended, the player-initiated dialogue had several options following it: you were able to initiate the romance on gale's perhaps, you could address the fact that he mentioned that he thinks about the weave scene with the player still, and lastly, you were able to ask how he can still cast if he had lost mystra's favour so.

if you picked the "I think perhaps we could be more than friends." option during the loss scene, you could talk about what exactly he meant with gale after by intiating a conversation with him again:

Protag: When I said we could be more than friends, you answered 'perhaps.' What does that really mean? Gale: If I recall correctly, the Waterdhavian Dictionary of the Common Tongue of Faerun defines it as an adverb that conveys the meaning of 'it may be that', or 'possibly'. Sorry, sometimes I can't help but being quite insufferable. Gale: In seriousness, I’m glad you asked that question. Gale: You see, I'm not a big believer in fate, but I do believe in serendipity. Life is a tempest of events that sometimes we brace against and sometimes we embrace. You are on such event, that soon, I would like to embrace.

you could also follow up with him on the mention of him thinking about the weave scene still:

Protag: You said you think about the moment we shared under the weave. Do you think about it often? Gale: Do you? - Protag [Option 1]: Yes. Gale: So do I. You see. I'm not a big believer in fate, but I do believe in serendipity. Life is a tempest of events that sometimes we brace against and sometimes embrace. You're one such event that one day soon perhaps I'd like to embrace.  - Protag [Option 2]: From time to time.  Gale: So do I. You see. I'm not a big believer in fate, but I do believe in serendipity. Life is a tempest of events that sometimes we brace against and sometimes embrace. You're one such event that one day soon perhaps I'd like to embrace.  - Protag [Option 3]: Not really. Gale: And yet you ask. I do, as a matter of fact.

the follow up for the loss scene would also include this dialogue:

Protag: There's one thing, I don't understand. If Mystra abandoned you, how can you still cast magic? Gale: The Weave is still here. All around us. Inside of us, too. As long as the goddess lives, magic is still a tangible thing for those who know how to touch. I've studied magic for many years and in as many ways, I'm still a more than capable wizard. Gale: It's just that I'm no longer able to perform those feats even archwizards would marvel at. To have one hand at the pulse of divinity. You have to remember that the Weave is a living thing. Both the embodiment and the extension of Mystra herself. Gale: She can give and she can take away. I'm afraid I'm still very much on her naughty list.

anyhow, this wraps the loss scene up.

overall, i'm extremely sad this was cut. i think with minor adjustments this scene would have worked not only to combat the scene disparity amongst the companions, but it also would have fleshed out gale's backstory and character even more!

i hope this was helpful to some of you!

coming up next:

-part 1: the three tadpole dreams -> completed -part 2: major cut scenes: the deer stew scene & the loss scene -> completed -part 3: minor cut scenes: abandoned temple of jergal, failed to save arabella, talking to the paladins of tyr and agreeing to go after karlach, edowin and the tadpole reveal, mayrina giving ethel's wand to her or breaking it, handing astarion over to the gur or defending him, reaching the druid grove, killing lae'zel, reaching the goblin camp & looking for halsin, killing the druids, priestess gut & the brand & the cult of the absolute, dror ragzlin and talking to the dead mind flayer, ogre couple, necromancy of thay, ethel, zhentarim chest, myconid colony -part 4: gale's condition & the way it was treated in early access

taglist: @chainsawmascara, @randomfanner, @tacogoats, @khajiit-necromancer, @gwinharper, @galesenchantedpanties, @swampfaerie, @ardently-queer, @nirraein, @gale-enjoyer, @xiv-wolfram, @kairoswouldnever, @a-psychopathic-dream, @toboldlydammitjim

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!

[lesbianwyllravengard]

can you elaborate on gale being manipulative? i dont have him in my party very often so i havent really talked to him much

Yeah absolutely.

So to be fair, I didn't notice it until my second or third playthrough because I never played with him in my party either until I got the mod for no party limit. But once I had him in my party - and would choose different dialogue routes/attempted to romance him (but couldn't go through w it because I don't like him) - that's when it became super noticeable. Astarion's manipulations are overdramatised and overexaggerated because he's a caricature of real manipulation that larian obviously never took seriously. Gale however is real manipulation that is at times so effective it seems whoever was writing the dialogue tree fell for it themselves, given the lack of range in responses.

Gale is very straightforward when he wants something. This is usually an admirable quality. He doesn't hide when he needs something and he isn't afraid to ask for help. But that turns into manipulation when, if he doesn't get his way, he begins putting words into the player character's mouth and assuming their intentions behind denying him what he wants. For the romance path, I noticed this when I began romancing him, but quickly switched to Wyll once I realised I couldn't go an entire playthrough pretending to be attracted to Gale. And when you choose Wyll, Gale has this dialogue:

This. Shocked me, to say the least. Gale immediately equates the player's affections to being a signifier of what makes a man "good", and shifts a simple preference of the heart to be the player saying "you're not as good of a man as Wyll, and you're also unworthy of my love", things that the player never said nor is even a logical thing to conclude from anything I would have said previously. He's putting words in my mouth, he's assuming the worst of my decision. Now this can be interpreted in two ways: either he has no idea he's being super manipulative right now, and is simply lashing out in hurt, or he knows full well what he's doing and is doing it on purpose in an attempt to convince the player to choose him over Wyll in his hurt. Regardless of the intention, the result is that he is twisting the player's intentions and feelings into something that satisfies his own insecurities, either as a reflex or to try to warp the player to giving him what he wants. It's manipulation.

Another instance I noticed this was when I was discouraging him from pursuing the Crown of Karsus after reading The Annals of Karsus. I chose the extreme dialogue choices for this one - outright discouraging him, telling him I don't want him pursuing the crown/godhood - because my first playthrough despite passing the roll to convince him not to take the crown, he still did, because of a bug, but I didn't know it was a bug and just thought I'd done it wrong. So the next time, I tried it this way.

First, I reminded him that the Karsite weave - and the crown itself - is what caused Karsus' downfall and led to an absence of magic. Gale brings up how Mystra wanted him to sacrifice himself to save the realm, and says:

This isn't directed at the player, but it is still a manipulation tactic nonetheless. The player does not know Mystra. We do not interact with her, ever, and we do not ever hear her side of it outside of a brief conversation she has with Gale in the tabernacle. Now, I am not commenting on the act of Mystra wanting Gale to kill himself - obviously that's fucked up. But Gale is, again, completely assuming her intentions behind her request, and twisting the image of her into something purposefully cruel and power-hungry (the goddess of ALL magic… fears not having power? sure, Gale. But there's also limitless power in magic? Which one is it Gale?). He's angry with her, he's angry with the player for trying to discourage him from his hubris, and so he lashes out by warping Mystra's image to the player. He also assumes that Mystra knows for a fact the crown of Karsus can be used to overthrow her, when it literally failed to do so in the past. He is going back to his old habits, he's completely forgetting that the existence of the orb is entirely his fault in his arrogance and in actively ignoring Mystra's boundaries, and he goes on to blame her for it:

by saying she 'took' something from him. (Also, he brings up being cured, as a way to say 'hey you care about me and want be to be cured, so you should be okay with me pursuing godhood, because it means I'll be cured :) Mystra doesn't want Gale to have the crown, and so when the player suggests not wanting Gale to have the crown either, he tries to get us to let him have his way by pinning Mystra as the bad guy. Even though before, he was perfectly willing to acknowledge he was in the wrong:

(this was back in the Tabernacle, after speaking to Mystra). There's also more dialogue in Act 1 where he openly admits to actively ignoring Mystra's boundaries, to being blinded by his hubris, leading him to pursue the pocket of magic only to have that pocket be consumed by him, giving him the orb. Something Mystra took no part in, and actively discouraged him from doing.

When the player says they don't want him to pursue godhood, Gale says:

Just. Wow. Okay. So suddenly, the player disagreeing with him wanting to pursue Godhood means they have no faith in him as a person - something that was never said - and that they think he is automatically inferior to anyone else who would try - again, something that is never said. He lashes out, he twists the player's words and intentions, he assumes everything in bad faith, all to shield his hurt over not getting what he wants and to try to get the player to give him what he wants. (He also, again, reduces his own mistakes as "youthful enthusiasm" despite knowing the risks and taking them anyway. And he intends to do the exact same thing again, here).

He appeals to our empathy by suggesting we mean to say he's worthless, he's not a good man, we have no faith in him, he's inferior, etc., as a way to get us to be on his side. He doesn't see our hesitance to be the understanding that it is - that we know Gale is blinded by his hubris once more, and his seeking godhood will end badly no matter what - and instead twists it into something purposefully cruel and ill-intended. He can be mad all he wants with my decisions - that's normal, that's human, and it's understandable given I'm discouraging him from pursuing something he wants. That's not being argued here. But it is how he acts when being denied something he wants, it's how he twists people's words negatively against them to fit his lack of self-worth that makes it manipulation. He's not taking the player at face value, he's not having faith in the player as his friend and companion, he is shoving us into the 'adversary' box by assigning harmful intentions to our disagreement so that he can feel better about himself.

[sasssha199]

Chapter 8: “Well that happened.”

Read all of me on A03

Beware Smut ahead!

Pairings: Rolan x Fem Tav

Summary: Marlie and Sasha have just rescued the tieflings from Last Light. Lia found out about the terrible things Rolan said to Sasha while she was held captive and demands that he make amends to her friend. He tries and things get sexy…

“She doesn’t want to see you.”

“Damnation, how can I make things right if you won’t even let me speak to her.”

“You made her cry, Rolan.” Marlie’s voice is radiating impatience.

He says nothing for a moment, I hope he feels bad.

“She’s always crying…” he finally mutters. I roll my eyes, sending Marlie a vision of a dramatic facepalm. I hear her snort in response on the other side of the door.

“Not the point. Now go away.”

“I can’t.” Rolan's voice sounds strained, almost achingly so, “Lia will not give me peace until I fix this.”

“Not my problem.”

I get to my feet with a sigh and open the door of the bedroom I’m taking refuge in. “It’s okay, sis. I’ll at least hear him out.”

“No you won’t.” Marlie's tone is matter of fact, “I’ve got a Silence scroll I've been dying to use, let him say one more rude word...”

“I’d Counterspell it,” Rolan grumbles looking infuriated.

“Really Marlie, it’s fine. I’ll do it for Lia’s sake.” I turn and walk back into the room, Rolan’s quick angry footsteps follow me.

I plop down on one side of the sunken bed and gesture for him to sit on the other. He shakes his head, “This won’t take long.”

“Oh really?” I draw my legs up to sit criss-cross. “Go ahead then, stand there like you're on display.”

He lets out a deep breath between gritted teeth, before coming over to the mattress and perching at the edge of it.

“I…well... I…”

I blink at him, “Yes Rolan, you?”

He visibly gathers himself before responding, humility is very painful for him. "First of all, l apologize. For lashing out at you. Drunkenly, soberly. I should never have yelled…what I did.” He pauses in his intense study of the threadbare coverlet beneath him to look at me. He looks sober and coherent, for the most part. That’s good.

“Great,” I say, “I’m sorry too.”

He cocks his head, surprised. “For what?”

“I should’ve left you alone, after your rescue. I don’t know what I was thinking pushing your buttons like that when emotions were already running so high.”

“Oh,” he pushes his hair back over his horns, “my rescue, yes…it seems I owe you and your sister a great deal…” he’s not bothering to cover his ears with his hair today. They’re surprisingly delicate, almost elf-like. Cute.

“Look, as much fun as this is Rolan, just tell Lia we’re good, okay?” I reach out to pat his back, but think better of it half way there. “Tell her you groveled and all is forgiven.”

“You don’t understand,” Rolan turns his body to face me, “she wants me to DO something for you.”

I make a face, “Like what? Why?”

“You're very dear to her and, damn it, after all she's been through it's the least I can do." He turns away from me again, now addressing the far wall of the bedroom. "She suggested, perhaps, a magic lesson.”

I laugh out loud, he turns a darker shade of red but I ignore it. “Thanks, but that would be a waste of time. I’ve already had a "moment of magic" with your so-called Weave, it didn't go well. I think Mystra hates me.”

He scoffs and regards me with a golden eye, “I could almost believe that. But perhaps you simply had a terrible teacher.”

“I didn’t.”

“Obviously you did, if they failed to impart so simple a concept.”

“Rude, Rolan.”

He takes a deep deep breath and then in one smooth motion kneels down on the floor next to the bed. “Sasha."

I frown at him, what is he playing at?

He looks almost sincere, and pained, as he fixes that golden stare on my face. "Please, allow me to attempt this so that I can appease my recently kidnapped sister.”

“Get up, Rolan.”

“Zurgan, must you be so willfull?"

"Don't you Infernal at me! I don't WANT anything from you. You and I have done enough harm to each other."

He does not move, only glares at me, his tail flicking behind him in obvious irritation.

I look up at the ceiling, this has been such a long day. "Can you please just leave?'

"Not until you agree!” He punctuates this with a loud thump from his tail on the bed. I jump a little and we both look startled.

“Don’t go breaking your tail, now.” I snicker at my own joke, if only to keep the tears at bay. It works. "Fine. I'll agree to this, but just know I'm doing this for Lia, not for you."

“As am I,” he says standing up and brushing off his knees, “ Very well. Come over here.”

“What, right now?”

“Yes!” He looks like he wants to throttle me, I know how he feels.

As I move over to his side of the room he casts something that closes both the door and the window. “To minimize distractions.” He explains brusquely when I raise my eyebrows at him.

He holds out a clawed hand, I take it hesitantly. His grip is delicate but firm. “Wow, you’re really warm.”

He clears his throat, “Yes. Now focus. I will be the conduit…” his further explanation is straight forward only slightly varied from what I remember with Gale. He doesn’t require that I do any hand motions but is still very insistent that I get the verbal component correct. Since this is where I dropped the ball last time, my stomach clenches and I hesitate. He makes a motion with his head as if prompting me. I open my mouth, and I feel all the air leave my lungs in a rush, as if there’s a force emanating from Rolan that propels the words from my gut and out into the universe.

I stare at him wide eyed as an image consumes my mind, a bit like the tadpole connection.

I see myself naked and sweating, breasts bouncing, body writhing. My face is contorted with ecstasy as a horned person buries their sharp incisors into the soft flesh below my collar bone. I cry out as I feel their ridged member sliding in and out of my womanhood. Claws dig into my hips, grinding greedily with need. “Yes! Yes!” I scream, almost weeping with the intensity of it, I’m so close, so close to something. A hot wet mouth closes down over mine and the metallic taste of blood dances on our tongues. I open my eyes and it’s Rolan’s face above me, loving me. Fucking me.

I sit down hard upon the wooden floor. The air is knocked out of me, I see spots and I’m reeling.

“What…what…” it’s Rolan’s voice, he sounds breathless, he’s lying flat on his back, “what the FUCK was that?” He manages finally.

“I don’t- are you alright?” I try to crawl over to him but my legs feel weak. My core is throbbing almost painfully and I feel very…damp.

Something grips me, I look down and see Rolan’s tail is wrapped around my calf. I can feel the ridges pressing into my skin. “Ah, Rolan… would you please…”

I turn back to him and his face is inches from mine, his eyes are almost black, the pupils blown wide. “Is that what you want?” He licks his lips, “why would you show me that?”

“I-I didn’t." My heart is pounding, but I don't move away. "I don’t know what happened.”

“Liar.” He breathes, flashing his fangs. The kiss is messy, hungry, passionate. Heat radiates from every part of him. His hands are on my back, cupping my hips, caressing my breasts.

“Gods below-” my nipples harden beneath his ministrations and heat blossoms in me. His hair tickles my face and as I reach up to smooth it back my fingers brush the ringed base of his horns. He growls in response, pressing me down, climbing on top of me. He tastes like fire and spiced wine, he smells intoxicating, faintly of rose water.

Rose water, I've smelled that before, yes last time I worked the Weave with Gale...

I moan into his mouth, trying desperately to speak between deep kisses, “R-rolan...wait, ah-…”

I gasp as he drags his sharp teeth down the curve of my neck. Clawed fingertips graze over my skin beneath my blouse. His knees are between my thighs and I vaguely wonder if he can feel my desire.

“How dare you,” he mutters against me, "...maddening." He sounds absolutely ragged as his lips trace the line of my jaw, his hot breath burning.

I tug at his hair and our lips crash together again. His mouth is perfect, I whimper as his tongue sweeps against mine. I want more…I want it all…

And then he’s getting to his feet, adjusting his robes. I feel a strong pull as he moves away, his tail is still wrapped around me. He lets out an infernal curse, jerking it after him with his hand. The door shuts firmly behind him.

I slowly raise up onto my elbows and make my way to the bed. My hair has come undone, messy curls tumbling around my shoulders and into my eyes. As I go to gather it back, I notice a couple of scratches on the hand Rolan was holding.

Fuck.

I rub a finger on my tender lips.

What just happened? Was it the Weave, the magic? Or was that vision Rolan’s doing? Was it mine?

Marlie comes in after a couple of minutes, the sounds of chatter behind her increase as she opens the door. “You all right?”

“Yes,” I reply, I clear my throat, “I think he and I are okay now.”

“Oh good.”

“Yeah.”