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“Is that really what you want, Gale?” Morgan tilted his head to the side, uncertainty colouring his face.
“Want, need, deserve; Choose whatever word you prefer, but it’s what I’m going to do,” Gale’s face was set, his mind made up, and his lover feared there was nothing he could do to change it, “Mystra has dictated the terms of my potential for long enough. The Crown would grant me control of my own destiny at last.Think of all I could achieve, all that I could grant to those whose ambitions are restrained by Mystra’s yoke. I could raise a new Netheril right here in Faerûn.” He spoke as if it was something to be proud of, as if Morgan should already be getting on his knees in prayer to him.
“Gale, please, don’t do this. Stay here, with me, we can build a new life together.” A knot tightened around Morgan’s throat, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t lose Gale now, not after everything they’d done to get here.
Gale sighed, taking a step back, “It seems that we’ve come to an impasse. I stand on the threshold of divine ascension, and you would try to keep me grounded. It’s not your fault- I can hardly expect you to understand. But nor will I relinquish this chance because you are unwilling to imagine a world where I succeed.” He was doing it again, talking to Morgan as if he were a child, condescension lacing his words and digging into Morgan like thorns.
“It’s not that I don’t think you’ll succeed, but do you really want to do this? Dedicate the rest of your life to one-upping an old lover, when I’m right here? When we’ve worked so hard to be together in this moment?” His voice cracked and his face creased, giving away his building desperation.
“I have to, Morgan. But I will never forget you- that much I promise. And if one day you feel differently, I would be honoured to have you as my Chosen.”
Morgan’s blood ran cold. His-? No, there was no way in all the Nine Hells he just said that, not to Morgan, not in this life.
“Your- Your ‘Chosen’?” Despite the tense situation, the utter disbelief drove him to laugh, “Your fucking ‘Chosen’? You’d reduce me to that ?”
“What? Is there something wrong with that?”
“‘Is there something’- Are you sure it wasn’t you that Orin replaced? Where have you been for the past few months?” Morgan stepped closer to him, and the look in his eyes made Gale nervously step back. “You really think after the hell I just went through that I’d want to be anyone’s ‘Chosen One’? I fought so fucking hard to be my own man. I stood before gods and defied them. I died to be here, free of my father’s clutches and in charge of my own future. Do you think I did all that just to let you claim me as your own?” Heat flooded his cheeks as desperation gave way to anger, his whole body taut like a bowstring, ready to fire.
“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” Gale tried to assert.
“We could have a life together! Like you promised! But instead you’d rather go chasing power fantasies and playing god with toys you barely understand!”
“I’ll remind you that it was you that pushed me to pursue the Crown. You wanted its power too.”
“And I was wrong! That was before I truly understood what it was, before I saw the true extent of the damage it’s caused. Look around you! Do you really want to be responsible for something like this?” Morgan’s voice rose more and more as he continued to talk, “I thought we had a future together, you said we would; Picket fence, cat, two-and-a-half children, all of it. You promised that after all of this bullshit was over, we could be normal . Why is that not good enough for you? Why am I not good enough for you?! I can’t believe that you would hold everything I’ve ever wanted right in front of my face, and then snatch it away, just like that.” He snapped his fingers.
“If you would truly do this, you’re not the Gale I know. Who you once were is now shrouded by hubris and stupidity. I don’t want the god of Netherese, and I don’t want to be his ‘Chosen’, I want human, mortal Gale. The Gale who taught me how to use the weave, who would wash the blood out of my hair when I was too weak to do it myself, who sat with me the entire night when Bhaal tried to have me kill him. The Gale who loved me and wanted all of me, despite everything that was wrong with me, until that fucking Crown came into play.” Morgan didn’t realize he was moving until they were nearly chest to chest, Gale’s heels edging off the far end of the dock.
“Look me in the eye and tell me you want to give up everything we have. That you truly desire the mere chance of divine ascension over me.”
Gale’s face was unreadable to him.
“I love you, and I’m sorry, but I need this.”
Morgan felt his heart shatter, and felt every razor sharp piece of it catch on his twisting insides.
His hand came up to hold Gale by his hair, grip tight as he pulled him in close, “Then you fucking listen to me, you bastard. I am not a ‘Chosen One’, or a god’s plaything or lover, or godspawn. If you ascend, you are never to come near me again, and you are to never try putting me back in the same cage my father did.”
Then, even with all his anger, Morgan kissed him one last time, to memorize the taste and feel of the man who had helped put him back together.
And then he pushed him into the Chionthar.
He waited a moment, just to revel in the sight of Gale pushed off his high horse, soaking wet and struggling to tread water, before turning away, pushing past the others who still remained (who he had honestly forgotten were watching that whole show) and stormed off into the city.
Alone.