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The morning finds you in your bedroll, the hazy memories of the aurora borealis fading into the taupe and shadows of the tent above you. The warmth in your chest lingers, the smile pulling at your lips as you haul yourself up to start your day.
It had been, as Gale had said, the most beautiful of fantasies.
To be part of the firmament had been rapturous in itself, but to be there with him under them would stay with you forever. To love, and be loved, was the light that would burn in her heart through these darkened lands.
One moment with you could sate me for a lifetime.
Had he said that to Mystra? The thought comes unbidden, the memories of the Weave flowing through and around you tugging at that particular insecurity. Who could compare to the literal essence of magic? You had felt its power last night, and could only imagine how intoxicating the source must be.
You pull your boots on, shrugging the thought away. Gale had chosen you, after all.
You must know that you’re… special to me.
The memory trails away, the feeling of his hand covering yours as he bared his heart under the stars. You step out into the morning, taking a deep breath. What was the other thing he had said? The timelessness of lovers? He had quite the way with words.
I love you.
As if summoned by the memory, Gale appears with a satchel of what appears to be vegetables, clearly en route to breakfast.
“A very good morning to you,” he beams. “I do hope you slept well.”
“I did.”
“I wanted to talk to you about our night together.” He takes your hand in earnest, talking of how close he had been to falling into the great void that Mystra had presented him with. Of course, that name sends your thoughts racing back down a spiral again.
Would he return to her, if he could? He had fallen from her favour to the point of being commanded to die, but you knew you would find a way to avert that - you would not let him die for anyone. But if there were another way to her side once more… would he take it?
I want it to be perfect - to bond with you in the way that gods do.
He reaches out to your shoulder, jolting you from your thoughts for a moment.
“I thought we were on the same page about last night, but… you look troubled.”
You smile, shrugging. “It’s nothing. It was wonderful. I hope… well, you were wonderful.”
“We,” he corrects, lips twisting into a wry smile. “As I recall, you were more than pulling your weight. For my part, I hope I was not too rusty. I have not been with someone in quite some time, and -”
“Last time was with a literal goddess.”
“Well, yes.”
“I’m sorry if I… if it wasn’t as… good,” you say softly, running a hand over his, before brushing him off. “I doubt I could compare to a goddess. You don’t have to be kind about it.”
“What?” He reaches out again, but you are already stepping away. “Wait wait wait, is that truly what you think?”
“I’m sure I was -”
Gale grabs your wrist and pulls you back sharply, silencing you with a searing kiss. You are dimly aware of someone passing by, a chuckle and a comment, but your world shrinks down to the close air between your bodies, the soft caress of his hand cradling your neck, and you sink into the moment, letting it stretch out into what feels like a lifetime.
Eventually he pulls back just far enough that you struggle to focus on him, reeling in the sensations of musk and magic and the feel of the air around him that is so uniquely Gale.
“Never,” he murmurs, “ever compare yourself to any past lover, deity or otherwise. You are…” He lets out a long sigh, brushing your hair from your eyes. “Gods, where do I begin? You are not Mystra, but do not ever assume that is a bad thing. I have been toyed with, a trophy for a goddess, and thrown aside for a lapse in judgement whilst trying to impress. Worse, I did not realise it until someone else opened my eyes to it. I have been isolated since, with only Tara to care for me, and then…” He chuckles. “And then fate thrust me into the middle of this… with you. Even before I realised my feelings, you have been something of a miracle. You have treated me with grace and consideration, and you have been far kinder to me than I deserve. You made me realise that to throw my life away with such abandon might not have to be my fate. You have borne my anger, my sadness and my grief, and despite it all you have still come to love me. You have changed me. I do not say this lightly, but I say it with every fibre of my being. You are you, and I would not change that for all the Weave. I love you. You.”
“Gale…”
“In truth, I have far more to fear if comparison is the name of the game. I am sure you were never short of attention, and still aren’t. I… am blessed, honestly, that you do not see the way some of our camp look at you when you walk by. I am quite sure that if you knew, you might reconsider -”
“Is it Halsin?”
“- and I would - what?”
You huff. “Is it Halsin? Because he did ask, and I said no.”
“You did? But - but look at him!”
“Gale -”
“The man is practically a walking representation of nature! If you’re into that sort of thing,” he adds.
“Gale.” You reach up, stroking his cheek. “I’m not looking at Halsin. I’m looking at you.”
He looks almost chastened for a moment, but the smile tugs at his lips once more. “So you are,” he says softly, before kissing your forehead. “I appear to have lost my train of thought. Forgive me, I had a point.”
“I’m sure,” you laugh, but he pulls back to meet your gaze.
“Mystra is my past. You are my present, and my future - such as it is.” He smiles, thumb sweeping gently over your cheek. “You are everything to me, and I hope I can be everything you deserve. If you’ll have me, of course.”
You smile, dropping your hand and letting it rest against his chest, feeling the warmth of his beating heart under the twisting mark of the magic that scars his chest. “Only if you’ll have me,” you reply, tilting your head back to catch his eye.
He grins. “My love, is that an invitation?”
“Perhaps. Though perhaps later… just us, and a bed?”
“There is nothing “just” about us and a bed,” he murmurs in a low tone, and you feel a thrill run through you. “But you are right. Later, out of the shadows.” Bringing your hand up, he kisses your palm. “I swear it to you, I will be what you see in me, and I will show you everything you are to me.”
For a long moment, you almost throw caution to the wind and drag him into the tent, but a voice pierces the morning quiet, a familiar drawl that will not be ignored.
“Oh, Gale! Our darling Shadowheart is hungry and I see no breakfast!”
“Astarion! Shut up!”
“Oh, you complain when he’s not cooking but you don’t want me to rectify that? Honestly, there’s no winning with you -”
Gale’s cheeks darken as the bickering continues, but as he steps away to tend to the group, the touch of his lips on your palm lingers, reminding you of the promise of later.