Work Text:
“Over here!” Gale shouted. He beckoned wildly, his hairs standing on end as the atmosphere crackled with static electricity. A dome shimmered into existence around him, its curves shifting and lurching as if locking into place. Ansur, the great dragon beneath Baldur’s Gate, was marking their doom with glowing blue glyphs on the ground around them, their power already pulsing menacingly. But Gale had other plans today besides getting electrocuted.
One by one, his compatriots rushed into the golden globe he cast, huddling close. Karlach, Wyll, even the myrmidon Wyll had summoned inched its way in. Aoife limped in last, cape singed and rivulets of blood and grime caking her face and neck. Curiosity crossed her face at the spell, but she quickly turned towards the dragon, teeth bared and halberd ready. There was no time for questions.
Ansur roared, and the team was deafened by the explosions of electrical energy all around them. The dragon reared back and for a second, all they could see was searing blue light. Aoife flinched at the expectation of pain that did not come. The globe’s hexagonal skin churned, pieces of itself rotating at a moment’s notice as the threads of the Weave pulled taut or snapped within it. The lightning was dissipating into sparkles skittering all around her and her companions, almost as if they had been caught beneath shooting stars instead. Aoife’s shoulders sagged, distracted by the display. Gale smirked, basking in his complete invulnerability, and the protection he gave his friends. For a split second, Aoife had turned to him, mouth agape, but what emotion she was conveying was shadowed behind the dread dragon’s lightning blast.
The battle had now taken a more positive turn in the last minutes, as spells shot through the golden shelter into Ansur, and Aoife channeled divine destruction in her halberd’s final slash. With a ground-shaking groan, the Heart of the Gate beat no more. Karlach doused herself with water to cool down her overworked engine, making her skin steam. Wyll dismissed his myrmidon and claimed the fabled helm of Balduran, hidden in a niche behind where the dragon lay. Aoife leaned on her weapon like a cane, panting.
“Good job, soldier,” Karlach said, clapping Gale on the back. “Really liked that dome of ‘don’t fuck with me’, or whatever it was.”
“Thank you,” he replied, making a tiny bow. “It’s called a Globe of Invulnerability in wizard circles. But I think I prefer your nomenclature.”
“It was amazing,” Aoife said, smiling warmly. “Let’s go home now, shall we?”
Home, Gale noted, was what Aoife called wherever they had been camping for more than a couple nights. In this case, it was the upper floor of the Elfsong Tavern, which certainly had more amenities of a home than any other place they had been so far. But as they made their way back up to Wyrm’s Rock, Gale ached for Waterdeep. Sometimes triumph made the homesickness worse, thinking about returning to the person he once was, in the place he once shared with no one but Tara, and then his own guilt. He watched Aoife’s back as he wondered if her turn of phrase was just that, or if she was aching for something too.
The city lights flickered beneath the windows in their lodgings. The hustle and bustle of the bar below them was thankfully more ambient than raucous. The hearth was burning bright, and Gale and Aoife sat together, listening to their friends chatter. She relished the ease which her companions now exhibited, a difficult feat considering their circumstances. Perhaps even more so considering their diverse personalities. Despite everything, Aoife was glad the people she was forced to save the world with were also people she grew to genuinely care for. She’d have liked to know each of her friends in a world without looming apocalypse, and she considered this very lucky.
Gale rested his hand on hers and tapped his fingers lightly. Ring finger, middle, index. It was both statement and question: ‘I’d like to leave now. Will you join me?’ Aoife turned her hand to tap out her affirmation. They had devised this code after realizing the rest of the camp had a much larger reserve for chatter than they did, and though they loved them, it was sometimes hard to make a graceful exit. Not that the code helped that so much. The pair stood up simultaneously, drawing the attention of the rest of the group.
“I think it’s time I turned in,” Gale said.
“Aw, should we try to keep it down then?” Karlach offered.
“Oh, it’s fine,” Aoife cut in. “We’re not going to sleep for a while.” It seemed as if everyone raised their eyebrows in unison.
“We’re just winding down for the night is all. No funny business,” Gale said, to a gallery of amused faces.
“Just remember, you must not let your search of carnal pleasures lead to fatigue on the battlefield,” Lae’zel intoned.
There was the briefest moment of silence before laughter erupted. Gale pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes, exasperated. Aoife took the opportunity to lead Gale to her wing of their lodgings, chuckling to herself. She laid down on the daybed, opening her arms to beckon Gale in. He made himself comfortable, and she rested her head on his chest, curling her sturdy legs around him. Aoife felt his body relax, and beneath his sigh of comfort, she felt the orb pulse like an animal suckling on its mother. The rhythm of Gale’s heart was clashing with the thrum of the orb, making a cacophony beneath his ribs. She put a hand to his chest— even stabilized, the orb was ever-present, ever-foreboding.
“Not the most graceful dismount we’ve ever done,” Gale noted, unaware of his lover’s thoughts.
“No. But it’s fun to me. Reminds me of my order’s dormitories.” That memory felt eons old, when she was a youth training to take on her oath and listening to the others gossip over the smallest things. “It tells me they care about us.”
“Hm. Even so, I could do without the audience all the time.”
Aoife hummed her agreement. They fell into a comfortable silence for a while, drowsiness threatening to overtake them.
“So, Globe of Invulnerability,” Aoife began, stifling a yawn, “did you learn it recently?”
“Of sorts. I had it in my spellbook a long time ago, before all this tadpoling business. But the orb had robbed me of my ability to cast it until very recently. I’m glad it could be of such use today.”
“It felt different from your usual style of spell,” Aoife said.
“You’re quite right. It is from the abjuration school, while I tend towards evocation. Abjuration is not offensive magic like evocation, rather it deals in protection and support of others,” Gale explained. Aoife nestled into his chest.
“I’ve never seen it look like that. It was beautiful. A shield made of your will and the Weave. I’ve only seen it a handful of times at most, but every other time it was smaller, and it looked more like a big bubble of soap than an actual stronghold. It was only the last resort of a necromancer who kept himself safe while his undead slaves did his dirty work.”
“That sounds like poor spellcraft. As long as the incantation and motions are right, the spell will work, but there’s a certain spirit that a wizard can imbue their spells with, a piece of themself, that makes their spells stronger. If they’re skilled enough, that is,” Gale mused, accentuating his words with small gestures of his free hand. Aoife listened raptly, staring at his graceful fingers as they flitted to and fro.
“That explains it,” she said. “You’re so dedicated to your craft, and you care so much for us, it can’t help but manifest in your spells. There’s a piece of you within the Weave, and that makes it better. A lot better, apparently.”
Gale blushed, the pink hue spreading from his cheeks to his ears, but Aoife continued, eager to make her wizard feel good.
“Normally when we’re in a fight, having you by my side feels thrilling. Pure power and a sort of frenzied eagerness at what you can do. But what the globe did made me feel awed, and a little bit fearful. You saw the face I made.”
Gale smirked and squeezed Aoife tighter.
“Unfortunately, your beautiful features were shadowed by all the lightning. But why were you fearful, my love? I would think being invincible would cause the opposite emotion,” he said.
“Well, maybe fearful isn’t the right word. I think I felt…” she paused, searching for the right words. “For the first time, I felt at your mercy.”
“At my mercy, huh?” Gale said mischievously. He kissed the top of her forehead. Aoife tilted her face to look at him, playfully running her hands through his hair.
“After all the compliments, that’s the thing you focus on?” Aoife replied, grinning. “It’s just not a feeling I’m used to.”
“Hm, I suppose not. A far cry from your usual righteous fury or your blessed mending. With one hand you’d strike down the unholy and with the other lend a gentle, healing touch.”
“Is that truly what you think of me?” she asked.
“On the battlefield, yes, you are beautiful and terrifying. Like the storming sea to a veteran captain or a masochist’s first sight of their own blood. But I have the immense good fortune of seeing you at ease, and knowing that such feats are meted out judiciously by a woman who couldn’t have a kinder or wiser heart.”
How he manages to make a simple description of her powers sound so poetic was something Aoife has yet to figure out. Perhaps it was the simple fact of him saying it, his words laced with adoration, that made it so elegant. Perhaps it was the way his fingers meandered across her skin while he spoke, the barest traces of the Weave brushing against her at his touch. Perhaps he was a poet at heart. She happily accepted the need for further study, climbing on top of him and kissing him passionately.
“All this to say you like my bulging muscles, right?” she joked.
“Oh, I love your muscles,” Gale replied, giving her upper arm a playful squeeze. The glint in his eye was salacious.
“Well, I think we should all go to bed now,” Wyll said, projecting his voice and enunciating every word. The lovers froze, but the shuffle of their companions grew quieter as they moved to their bunks. Aoife slumped next to Gale.
“Good night, darlings!” Astarion called out. A chorus of ‘good night’ rang out in response, Aoife and Gale’s voices sounding more bemused than the others.
“A year of solitude and then thrust into this,” Gale grumbled. “It remains quite the adjustment.”
“Well, after the Brain is defeated, we can enjoy some peace and quiet. And only invited guests.”
Gale took in her implication slowly, thoughtfully. As far as plans for the future, their lives after the Absolute feels like an impossible idyll filled with every dream their little group could think of: from something as small as dinner with an old friend, to hunting devils down in their homes. In the darkest part of his mind, Gale thought he would not be able to see the aftermath of their victory. To see his lover exhausted, bloody, but alive, to bear witness to the Gate at peace. But the desire that had begun in the Shadowlands, and had almost become overwhelming, was to take Aoife home to his tower, his city, and just be . He wanted to live.
“You would want to come home to Waterdeep with me?”
“I would come home with you if you lived in the sewer,” Aoife stated seriously. “Though I would be perplexed as to why you chose to live there.” Gale laughed.
“What about your order? Wouldn’t they miss their hero of the age?”
“We are all expected to leave some day. I think my leaving was overdue, in the end. Forty years is a long time to live anywhere, really.” Aoife said. Gale ran his hands through her hair, a gentle, soothing touch.
“There have been very few things that make me feel like I truly belong,” she continued. “Acting as the sword and shield of nature’s children gives me purpose and belonging with
the world. My mentor gave me a home when without her I would have been an orphan. And you, Gale Dekarios, have made me feel like I belong, as any and all versions of myself. I belong with you, wherever that is.”
Gale was humbled by her candor, and his heart swelled with love. And beneath both, a small pinprick of hope he had learned not to resist. He caressed her face, looking up at him with her black illithid eyes, but all he saw was the purest affection in their darkness.
“I am overjoyed that you would find such solace with me. And you’ll love Waterdeep, there’s so many things I could show you— the gardens, the palace, of course my tower— I can’t wait to share it with you. You’ll always have a place to belong with me, whether in my home or my heart.”
Aoife kissed him lazily, but pulled back to yawn. Gale too found himself pulled harder and harder into sleep.
“Let’s dream about it, hm? I’m halfway there already,” Aoife murmured. Gale snuggled in closer and kissed the top of her head.
“There’s nothing I’d like more.”