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It’s been a long day, though not as long as the past few were. Being out of the Shadowlands has greatly lifted everyone’s spirits, the sight of the sun over the Risen Road after days of darkness is glorious, perhaps even better than emerging from the Underdark, which Gale never thought he’d say. But there is a great difference between being underground, in darkness that is unnerving but still natural, and being surrounded by the Shadow Curse.
It was a twisted, smothering, hungry thing. Gale often imagined he could see the very darkness baring its teeth, slavering just at the edge of Isobel’s protective bubble of moonlight, or stalking along the boundaries of the bell’s aura. And the way it called to Gale was even worse. Whispering that there, if he were to dabble in the darker aspects of magic, even Mystra wouldn’t see, shrouded as they were.
To Gale’s shame, it was Tav’s presence more than his own will that prevented him from trying.
There is something in him that still strives to prove his worth, to show he is capable of mastering magics kept hidden and called taboo, but the way Tav fights to cleanse the land of it quiets that need. Gale watches as Tav leads them into every corner, shining light, and banishing darkness anywhere he finds it. It makes Gale so proud, knowing this man has chosen him . From all of their companions who have each proven their worth, from the myriad of temporary comrades they have met who have more to offer, it is Gale who holds his attention.
Gale is grateful, but he doesn’t understand.
At first, he assumes Tav misunderstands how far Gale has fallen, that Gale has maintained enough of a confident façade to fool even him, but Tav doesn’t bat an eye when Gale falters. When he stumbles from exhaustion, when the spells at his hand hold nothing near the power he once wielded, when he has destroyed and consumed hard earned equipment. That each piece was offered freely, without question, is still a source of amazement.
Gale is determined to balance the scales lest Tav recognize the burden he currently is, the burden he will continue to be, until he can find a solution to the Netherese Orb in his chest. One that, perhaps, will not require his death.
He was ready to accept that was his fate, a fitting punishment – saving Faerûn with the very consequence of his own mistakes. His determination was shaken by the look on Tav’s face when Elminster passed on Mystra’s message, then it cracked at the broken sound Tav made when Gale so much as suggested it was the right thing to do. Tav swore they would find another way, not willing to humor the idea even when they discovered the mind flayer colony.
And Tav was right.
If Gale had followed Mystra’s orders then, he has no doubt they would all have perished, along with their enemies, and the tadpoles that had been implanted in victims throughout Faerûn would have turned their hosts in an instant. Birthing an army of illithids answering to no one but their own hive mind, roaming unchecked until they recreated their terrible empire. And there was always a chance that the Netherstones and the crown, which can be no other than the Crown of Karsus itself, would have shielded the Netherbrain and the Dead Three’s Chosen. Rendering their sacrifice useless beyond aiding the very villains they are trying to defeat.
Regardless of the outcome, Faerûn, and perhaps every other plane, would be lost.
Even so, it is Gale’s first instinct to believe that had not been Mystra’s intent. That Gale had somehow misunderstood some part of the message, that she believed he would know when the moment was right. Except, he thought he had known, and almost made a mistake more terrible than his first one.
Tav has not been silent on that subject, claiming that Mystra has no right to ask this of Gale. That goddess though she be, she is the one in the wrong. That it is she who has let Gale down somehow, discarding him at the first sign that he was thinking for himself. That demanding martyrdom in exchange for forgiveness, without so much as an apology for putting that weight upon Gale’s shoulders, proves she doesn’t deserve his devotion. That she never deserved it.
Gale is torn, a part of him wanting to defend Mystra even now, but that part has grown more and more silent of late, now preoccupied with thoughts of Tav. At times, it is almost enough to make him forget Mystra entirely.
He wants to believe that Tav is right, that there is some way out of this that doesn’t involve killing himself, and leaving Tav behind in the process. But how could he, a mere mortal whose folly led himself to this predicament, possibly think of something that hasn’t even occurred to Mystra? Even if, as Tav says, he is worthy of another path?
It isn’t until he finds a letter from Elminster in his pack, urging him to come up with an alternative, that he really lets himself consider that he might make it out of this alive. He assumes the Shadow Curse prevented the enchanted page from appearing before now, because the magic in it feels days old.
He stares at the last few lines, committing them to memory before he folds the page and slides it back into his pack.
Remember, my friend, there is magic even more powerful than that orb, if you could only bring yourself to use that head of yours. A catalyst need not always cause an explosion to create a solution, nor must it be alone to do so. Be a moon unto yourself, and do not forget the stars that might aid you.
Elminster
If Elminster and Tav, two of the greatest men he has ever known, have faith in him, and believe he deserves better than a martyr’s death, then who is Gale to argue? He smooths his hand over the flap that covers the letter, and takes a steadying breath.
“Gale, sweetheart, is everything alright?” Gale glances up at the entrance to their tent to find Tav ducking in and wearing a concerned expression.
“I’m fine, just found a letter from Elminster. Apparently he wanted to impress upon me the importance of his earlier advice by repeating it. Very in character for him.” Gale sets his bag aside to make room for Tav to join him on the bedrolls.
“Good,” Tav murmurs as he sits down. “The more people talking you out of suicide, the better.”
Gale presses his hand to his chest and sighs, trying to let go of his doubts. Tav huffs and takes Gale’s hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, before leaning down and kissing the center of the orb. Gale trembles, the feeling of lips against the sensitive skin, along with the inherent trust in the gesture, making it difficult to breathe.
“ Tav ,” Gale gasps, and his lover pulls him in for a kiss. It stays soft, but Gale can feel it all the way down to his toes, a sensation as alluring as the Weave itself. When they part, Tav stays close, leaning his head against Gale’s shoulder. Gale’s worries seem to evaporate for a moment, Tav’s presence acting as a ward against the troubles of the world. “I love how you can make everything go quiet,” Gale whispers into Tav’s hair.
Tav lets out a happy sound, and presses his face against Gale’s neck, laying a butterfly kiss there. “And I love you , sweetheart.”
Gale should be satisfied with that, thrilled with it, but old doubts eat at his mind. He once thought he held Mystra’s love, but lost it so quickly, so easily. How can he prevent losing Tav as well if he doesn’t know what Tav desires of him – which parts of him Tav prefers?
Tav stiffens slightly, as if he can sense Gale’s turmoil. Or perhaps Gale has tensed up without realizing it. “Gale?”
“What do you love about me?” Gale asks, his voice whisper-low and uncertain.
When Tav raises his head to look at him, Gale wishes more than anything that he could take the words back. They are presumptuous, grasping, needy – the last thing Tav deserves with everything else on his shoulders. Gale can't risk being a burden. Being thrown aside again for overstepping.
Gale casts about in his mind for a way to mend the error, but it has gone completely blank. A pristine piece of parchment with nary a word, nor even a damned ink blot to be found.
Tav opens his mouth, and Gale panics, finally latching onto the only possibility – he backtracks, throwing out words to cover the wound he has torn in his own chest. “No need to answer. Kind as you are, you will be tempted to sing false praises. While my knowledge of magic and its uses is nigh unmatched, I am hardly at my best, as you well know. If only I could show you the man you deserve. The real Gale of Waterdeep, free from the shackles of his own folly, and his unwanted guest. Alas, the orb and the tadpole demand you must settle for Gale Dekarios until they have been dealt with. Though I swear I will do everything within my limited power to prove myself to you. To be worthy.”
When Gale dares to look at Tav again, his lover is frowning. By the Weave, Gale really has stepped in it this time. Gale prepares to be scoffed at, dismissed with a gesture akin to the burst of Weave Mystra used to let him know she was done indulging his babbling. Instead, Tav reaches out slowly, like he's allowing Gale a chance to pull away.
Gale would never.
Tav's frown smooths into a gentle smile as he cups Gale's cheek.
“Oh, Gale,” he says softly. Gale braces himself for rejection, prepares himself to say anything to convince Tav to keep him. To let him stay . The brush of lips against his own interrupts his spiral. When Tav pulls back, he is looking at Gale like he hung the stars. As if Gale has painted the night sky with auroras again, though they are only sitting on well-worn bedrolls under the mundane canopy of their tent. “I love the way you talk faster when you're excited about something. I love how passionate you are about learning new things. I love how important doing the right thing is to you. I love the way you hum while you’re cooking. I love the way you huff and tie your hair back when it's windy. I love the way your face lights up when Tara visits. I love so many things about you that I could never have enough time to list them all. I love you , Gale Dekarios. And that is all that matters.”
Gale stares, disbelieving, and shakes his head. “But I can give you so much more! If you will only give me more time to recover my abilities, I can show you the very stars. Take you sailing through them as you trail your hands through their dust. I can show you pieces of the planes whose beauty will make you weep.” Gale says emphatically, trying to make Tav understand, to help him see . But his lover just looks… sad. “You deserve better than just Gale Dekarios, my love. Much better.”
“There is no just Gale Dekarios.” Tav’s voice is adamant, unwavering. The very Weave thrums with the words. “I know your magic is important to you. That it has been a part of you for as long as you can remember. But it is not all you are, Gale. If you were to lose your connection to the Weave, and never cast another spell, you would still be the man I love. Clever and protective, powerful and gentle, talented and so damn good that it hurts sometimes. And if it takes a lifetime for me to convince you that usefulness does not define your worth, that love is something you deserve , not something you have to earn, it will be a life well spent.”
Tav is breathing hard, eyes alight with passion and determination, his body subtly shaking with it.
“Oh.” It’s all Gale can bring himself to say. And even that one syllable echoes with his doubts.
Tav doesn’t sigh, or roll his eyes, he simply takes both of Gale’s hands in his own. “Can I show you?”
When they first met on that beach, Gale floundering to recover from the disastrous impression he just made on his handsome rescuer, sharing his mind was one of the worst things he could imagine. The idea that Tav, virtue and justice made flesh, might see who Gale really was. The mistakes he has made. How far he has fallen… it was terrible to dwell on.
But now? Now, though his hands are trembling, he opens his mind, and gasps at the images that flutter through it like butterflies. Flashes of fondness, joy, love , as he looks at himself through Tav’s eyes.
He sees all his traits, his words, his mannerisms, cast in a new light. All the things that make him so human, too human in his own estimations, are suddenly precious, valuable . Jewels polished to a bright shine, catching and reflecting Tav’s affection back at him until it is almost too much to bear.
He sees his magic here, too. As much a part of him as his heart. What makes him someone . But the unfettered awe that washes over him from Tav is not for the Weave itself, it is for how Gale wields it. How he shields their companions so they may fight another day. How he cuts down their enemies so that they may do no harm to anyone else. How he taught Tav to use it that fateful night when Gale realized he might actually have a chance .
It’s the way he moves his hands. The way he forms the words. The way he smiles. The way he laughs. The way he sighs.
It’s all… Gale.
Not the renowned Gale of Waterdeep. Not the Chosen of Mystra. Not even Gale the unwilling True Soul.
Gale Dekarios. For as little import as Gale thinks he holds, that is who Tav loves. Without doubt or reservation.
The epiphany is startling, and as Gale’s understanding travels through the bond, Tav lets out a pleased sigh. The connection fades.
Tav kisses him again, just as gently as the last time, and Gale lets his mind drift. Tav pulls him down to the bedroll until Gale is lying on his back with Tav curled up at his side, head resting on his chest – right over the orb. Gale should feel self-conscious about it, but the peace that has settled over him is reluctant to let him go. Though, it does seem appropriate to say something after such a profoundly intimate experience.
He says the only thing he can think of at this moment. Foolish though it may be, impossible as it may be, he cannot snuff the spark of hope in him quickly enough to stop the words.
“My mother is going to adore you.”
The words hang in the night for only a moment before Tav shifts and presses a kiss to the center of the orb.
“I can’t wait to meet her,” Tav murmurs, breath washing over Gale’s chest as the light from the orb flickers, and Gale is at peace.
As he looks up at the ceiling of their tent, he waves his hand and lets loose a thread of Weave so he can see the sky above them. The clouds have finally parted, revealing stars twinkling in the darkness. The sight of them reminds Gale of Elminster’s words, and he smiles, finally understanding. He brushes his fingers through Tav’s hair, and for the first time since he learned to control the Weave, he picks a star, and whispers a wish.
In a tower far away, Elminster smiles and makes it so.