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Having never seen Mystra in person, it would have been natural if Andromeda did not recognize the woman in her dreams.
She does, however, instantly.
“I figured you’d show up one of these days,” Andromeda says. She recognizes this as the realm of the Gods. But this isn’t anything special. Gale has shown her this before.
“Andromeda,” Mystra says, “Is it Dekarios now? Is the marriage contract signed?”
“I thought that you had forgiven Gale,” she replies, ignoring the question. She often has wonderful visions of attacking Mystra with her own hands for the hell she’d put Gale through. But she should play nice. Gale would probably want her to play nice, even in a dream. Because though she is asleep, Andromeda knows this is very real.
“I have,” Mystra says, “I have the crown.”
Andromeda isn’t sure how much Mystra knows. How Gale had seriously considered taking it for himself. How Andromeda had been scared of losing him to his ambition.
“What is it that you want from me, exactly?” Andromeda asks. She’s never been particularly attentive to any deity and frankly she’s not sure how to address them. Probably with respect. But Mystra is the last person in the world she respects.
“Simply to talk to you,” Mystra smiles, “If you’ll allow it. You can relax, you know. I’m not going to hurt you. I want Gale to be happy.”
Andromeda doesn’t think that’s true. She thinks that Mystra might say that, but even in her forgiveness, Gale has still defied her. He’s still left her for someone else. And a mortal at that. Why else would he warn her that Mystra is jealous at heart?
“And he is happy,” Andromeda says.
“I’m sure that he is,” she smiles again. Condescending. As if Andromeda is a child, “Despite your lack of magical ability.”
“I do just fine for myself.” Andromeda has never been self conscious about her her lack of image magical prowess. The time she’d spent with that tadpole in her head was enough to show her that the only spell she needed was her trust ax. Even when she visits Gale at Blackstaff, when she pesters him to let her attend one of his classes, she feels no desire to study magic. Let others handle it. Gale has never seemed to mind. He likes to teach her basic spells, and chuckle when she singes one of his eyebrows or makes a glass explode.
“Your children will not be as talented as their father,” Mystra says, “Whenever you may have them.”
“Good,” Andromeda says, blood rushing in her ears, “You’ll keep your hands off of them then.”
For a moment, her pleasant facade drops. She is angry. Enraged maybe. If she wanted to, Andromeda is almost certain that she could smite her with a snap of her fingers. That would be it. Snuffed out in an instant.
But she’s not scared.
Andromeda has faced bigger threats. And lived to tell the tale.
“You are a talentless, weak little girl. You came from nothing and you have nothing,” she says. There’s the jealousy, Andromeda thinks, but she stays silent, “You have no family name, no prowess, and indeed nothing of your own. This tower you live in does not belong to you. This city is not yours. What do you have, when it all comes down to it?”
Andromeda smirks. She can’t believe the set up Mystra has given her. Astarion is going to love this story.
“I’ve got one thing you don’t,” Andromeda says, “Gale.”
“I no longer have any interest in him. He’s thrown away his talents and he’s sullied himself with filth like you,” Mystra relies. But Andromeda thinks that she’s not exactly being truthful.
*****
The dream ends abruptly, and Andromeda wakes up with a slight gasp. It’s still dark out, and she has no interest in getting up this early.
Gale makes a noise in his sleep, tugs her tighter against him. Probably he thinks she’s had a dream about something from their shared past. He’d never suspect that Mystra popped by to say hello.
“Are you alright?” he whispers, clearly not fully awake. She must have startled him when she woke up. When they were still out on the road, sharing a bedroll, she found that she physically could not be close enough to him. Sometimes she felt like she was sleeping directly on top of him. When they moved into the tower, she figured now that they had space—and safety— she thought they might spread out a bit.
But no. She still enjoys sleeping as close to him as physically possible. When one of them does have a nightmare, they’ll both go to sit out on the balcony, enjoying the cool night air. She refuses to go to bed alone.
“Fine. Go back to sleep.”
She feels him kiss the top of her head, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
*****
“I had a dream about Mystra last night,” Andromeda says, taking a long sip of her tea, “Well. More of a visit than a dream really.”
“What?” Gale says, nearly dropping the teapot in shock. A quick spell sends it safely back to the table before it can break on the floor, “She came to see you?”
“Uh huh.”
“She didn’t, I mean, she didn’t threaten your or anything did she?”
“No. No, but it went about as well as can be expected. I suppose it’d be easier if your former lover was, I don’t know, a singer. Maybe a tailor. Or dead.”
“I can’t believe she’d do something like that,” Gale says, “Of all the-“
“It’s alright,” Andromeda holds out a hand for him, knowing he somehow thinks this is his fault, “She claims that she just wanted to make sure that you were happy.”
He sighs, takes her hand. They’re both still in bedclothes, and Gale’s dressing gown is undone. Since their return to Waterdeep—and their defeat of the Netherbrain—they have settled into marriage and domestic life quite well. She’s never had anything like this before. In truth, she’d been a little worried that when they weren’t fighting for the fate of the entire Sword Coast, that maybe they wouldn’t work together. But those fears had been unfounded.
She loves him more every day.
“She had no right to come to you like that.”
“You told me she was a jealous one,” Andromeda reasons, “I can’t say I ever expected for a goddess to be jealous over me of all people.”
That’s an understatement. Andromeda has always considered herself about average. She’s excellent at being violent when the situation calls for it, but that’s about it. She has no real formal schooling, she doesn’t find herself all that pretty, she has no wealth, no family connections. People never found her charming or funny.
Before the Nautiloid she was exactly nobody.
But she was a good person. At least she tried her damndest to be. So maybe that was enough.
“My love, you must know that you alone make the sun rise each morning,” he says, kneeling down so that they are eye to eye. Maybe he’ll propose again. He did so four times before they finally got married, just, he said, because he liked to do it and he liked to hear her say yes, “You must know that. If there was anyone in the world who is worthy of the jealousy of a goddess, it is you. But you shouldn’t have to endure that. She should leave you and me in peace.”
And the thing is, she knows he means it. Every word.
“Mrs. Dekarios, I hope you know how truly lovely you are,” he says. She takes his face in her hands and kisses him.
“I love you,” she mutters, “I think it makes her mad.”
It is at this moment that Tara jumps onto the table, makes a somewhat disgusted noise at this display of affection, and steals Gale’s cup of tea.
“Dear Tara,” Gale says, “I do think you have breakfast of your own.”
“I’m having this as well,” Tara replies, “Mrs. Dekarios are you alright?”
Andromeda nods, “I’m fine. Thank you.”
“Will you tell me everything she said?” Gale asks, standing back up. He lets Tara have his tea and pours himself a new cup.
“Yes. Later. Let’s go out and get some fresh air. It’s a beautiful day.”
“Excellent,” he claps his hands together, “A chance to show off my dear wife to the good people of Waterdeep.”