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It’s been a lovely evening – it always is when Tara visits. And every time she does, Gale goes out of his way and cooks something truly delectable for the three of you. You pack some of the leftover food (there’s always leftovers, you think intentionally) and give it to Tara – she will gladly carry it to Gale’s mother, like she always does. You suspect she finds it a good excuse to keep checking in on her.
Despite the late hour you’re not tired yet, so with Tara gone, you use the time for some decluttering. By the time you finish washing the dishes, Gale’s already fallen asleep by the fireplace with an open book in his lap. You smile to yourself. It’s happened so many times now, you could easily believe the armchair is enchanted. You will never get tired of seeing Gale like this – calm, at peace. You take in the scene for a moment and commit it to your memory. You gently put the book away and cover Gale with a blanket. A very faint scent of lavender still persists in his hair. He’s been regularly using lavender for his baths ever since you told him you like it, which you truly do, but it also has calming effects on the brain.
Both of you need the extra relief, after all that’s happened to you.
You zone out as you softly walk around the rooms, cleaning today’s mess. Books left out of their shelves, potions in disarray – you’ve finally agreed on a system on how to store these in a sensible arrangement – Lanceboard pieces mysteriously uncovered on the other side of the room… the usual.
You take a moment and sit down on the balcony. An almost-full moon casts its soft light on Waterdeep which, judging by the noise, is only beginning with tonight’s revelries. You close your eyes and focus instead on the sea below you - on the briny aroma it gives to the air, on how its waves greet the shore in a calming rhythm. You attune your breathing to its flow.
This helps; it always does. It helps make the events from months ago seem like a tale of bygone times: distant, obscure, fictitious, something that you didn’t have to survive through. It makes you believe you’ve lived here all your life… living undisturbed and in peace. What a beautiful lie.
Why do the thoughts persist? The tadpoles, the Netherbrain, all the struggles and battles you went through to get to here… They are of the past, yet their danger still feels ever-present. What does the future hold in store? When a new threat presents itself – and it is only a matter of time before it does – who will take… have to take the mantle of the saviour then?
Will it have to be you again?
You try to push those thoughts out of your head and return your focus on the sea. It worries not about dangers and gods; it merely is. It is content with itself, resting in its terrestrial cup while destined to dance with the moon forever.
You meditate on your thoughts and listen to the sea for a while longer.
Your concentration is broken by some noise coming from inside. Gale must have woken up – you two should move to bed, it’s getting late.
You return inside to tell him so. He’s still sitting in the armchair. You hear him whisper “please… I’m not ready…”
You notice the distress in his voice and tense up; you approach him cautiously. He is still asleep, but this is a tranquil nap no more. His expression seems pained. His breathing is quick, shallow. He whimpers hastily, “Mystra, I beg you! I’m sorry… I want to live…”
You gently shake him and call his name. With a jolt, his eyes open and he gasps for air. Sheer panic plagues his eyes. He clutches his chest where the mark used to be, like it’s hurting him still. His eyes dart around the room wildly as he struggles to breathe.
“Gale! Look at me.” You finally get his attention. “You had a bad dream. You’re home. And I’m here for you.” You take his hand. “Focus on your breathing. Just like last time, remember?”
He nods. You give him a reassuring smile and gently squeeze the hand, then go through the motions with him. Slowly but surely, he calms down and the loving gaze you have become accustomed to meets yours once more. He pulls you closer, asking you to stay with him, and you sit in his lap. You know cuddling helps him as much, if not more.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
“Was it the orb again?”
“It was. But Mystra was there too. She was… punishing me for disobeying her.”
After all this time, her name still evokes a surge of anger within you. “I swear, if this is actually her doing-”
Gale cuts you off. “It isn’t. Believe me, I would know. No, this is merely… my crippling anxieties reminding me of what could have been.” He sighs tiredly. “I wish they would stop reminding me.”
There were weeks when it seemed all was well. Then there were others, where he would wake multiple times per night. You never knew what to expect, but you were ready all the same to support and encourage him – to pull him out of the darkness.
You caress his face, ironing the worried wrinkles on his forehead. “They will grow quiet, in time.”
“I truly hope so. I’m sorry if I startled you.”
“You didn’t. It’s okay. I’m glad I could help.”
He tightens his hold on you and leans his head on your shoulder. “Your words and your touch can cure me of any affliction far better than any healer ever could.”
You give him a kiss on the forehead and bury your face in his hair, inhaling him, his calming lavender-scented aroma. “I love you too.”
You sit there for a while longer, entangled as one, wordlessly comforting each other.