Work Text:
Threads of the Weave
“Mystra is beautiful.”
Gale jumped, the image of his goddess vanishing as Rhea’s voice came from behind. He turned, catching the sorcerer covering a chuckle with her hand. There was a playfulness in her eyes, but something else too. Something a little sad in the way she watched him compose himself. The tiefling cut over him before he could ask.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You didn’t,” he said rather too quickly, “Well, you did. But I...I was miles away.”
Rhea smiled, her head turning only slightly as they heard Astarion complaining loudly about the number of mushrooms in the Underdark. It had only been a couple of days since they’d said goodbye to Zevlor and the tieflings, and half a day since they’d given up searching for an alternative route to Moonrise. Halsin had seemed certain that the Underdark was the correct choice, but Gale was more inclined to tread the familiar roads of the surface. Still, it wouldn’t have welcomed the druid to argue, so they had tried exploring the new territory and were returning to the mountains to seek the githyanki creche.
“Is she on your mind?” Rhea asked, returning his thoughts to Mystra. The wizard had been reflecting on his time with the goddess, thinking on the words many of their group had spoken about her and her supposed kindness in favouring him. That she had been cold and calculating in choosing her young prodigy. He had called on her image from the Weave, trying to remember something good from their time together that hadn’t simply been tied to magic and study...something normal and simple that would have made them seem like any other couple in love. Nothing had come to mind, and it had only left Gale feeling hollow and frustrated. Weak.
Since her rejection, he had felt that way. His magic had felt that way. And the orb only grew hungrier.
“Just thinking about what I lost,” he mused, “Mystra commands all magic. Salvation, if such a thing exists, is hers to bestow or withhold. And yet, even now, more than I fear losing myself and my soul, I fear losing my command of her art.”
He conjured a small flame on his palm, his flushed cheeks hidden by its glow as he noted it was the same shade of burgundy as Rhea’s hair. The flame flickered and died.
“Magic is...my life. I’ve been in touch with the Weave for as long as I can remember. There’s nothing like it. It’s like music, poetry, physical beauty all rolled into one and given expression through the senses.” His eyes turned from the heavens to her, finding her watching him curiously. “Is it the same for you?”
Rhea pondered a moment, before calling her own flame to her hand. It was a deep purple, almost the exact colour of his shirt, had Gale noticed. It grew brightly, vanishing only as she closed her hand.
“Well, if I were to follow your metaphor. Magic is like music. But while you need sheet music, I play by ear.” She cringed as his brows drew together. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like my magic was better or anything!”
Gale laughed, waving away her concerns. “No, that’s entirely fair. We’re still playing the same composition in the end, are we not?”
“I guess we are.”
He laughed again, walking to her side so that their backs faced the camp. “Perhaps, I can show you what I mean.”
“What did you have in mind?”
A wry smile crossed his face, boyish and handsome and all too teasing for her stuttering heart. “Follow my lead.”
The wizard moved his arms as he called on the Weave, pulling at the tendrils that floated invisible to the naked eye and summoning them into existence. He felt the warmth of magic surround him, the familiarity of it bolstering his spirit as he asked Rhea to copy him. She did, effortlessly, pulling with more strength and ease. The sensation of her magic was kind and comforting. Her elbow brushed his as she lowered her arms, so Gale took a brave leap. “That was good but try it more like this.”
He scooted so his chest was nearly pressed against her back. The wizard grinned the sorcerer huffed in amusement, letting him lift her arms and coax them to do the gesture again. Her skin was peppered with gooseflesh, though there was no wind that night, and Gale did not miss how the corner of her eyes caught his as his breath fanned the curve of her neck. Rhea was being careful not to let her horns knock him, their tips the same level as his forehead. The gesture, again, was effortless and perfect.
“Excellent!” Gale praised, causing her cheeks to redden as she rolled her eyes. “Now, repeat after me: Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao. ”
A faint sweetness slithered over Gale’s tongue as he uttered the incantation, and the smell of rosewater filled his head. It was the scent and taste of the goddess as she guided his hand. The old sensations should have been a comfort to him, but they felt a little strained as he tried to concentrate on Rhea. The sorcerer repeated the words, the shape and sound of them perfect as the Weave rumbled and shifted around them. Gale felt static electricity tickle his face and hair, a few standing on end. He smelt the sea and tasted spice and heat. It was as if Rhea was channelling a different Weave, one free of Mystra’s command and influence. Her magic caressed him like pages of a book, bathing him in the sensations of a storm about to break. It was thrilling, enticing, and as it faded a little, left him racing.
“Very good.”
Rhea turned her head to smile at him. They were close, noses nearly touching. Her eyes burned into his, searing him, but Gale refused to look away. The bioluminescence of the Underdark danced in between them. The wizard swallowed, his throat and chest tight. “Now, I want you to picture in your mind the concept of harmony. As true as you can.”
She closed her eyes, thinking about her companion next to her. How magic seemed to belong to him as he to it. How she related when he called the Weave home. It had taken her a long time to agree with the sentiment, but her magic had stood with her in good times and in bad. It was the vigil that protected her.
Rhea sensed the change before she opened her eyes. A presence she guessed to be Mystra watching them both, disapproving. It vanished, leaving something behind which enshrouded them like a cloak of peace.
She opened her eyes.
Gale was watching her, his smile proud and gentle. Her heart squeezed painfully. She felt so safe standing next to him. Seen and understood. The tiefling barely noticed the visible ring of magic that encircled them, looping around their waists in a figure-of-eight and entwining them together. So captivated was she by the wizard, who laughed, only half-amazed.
“You did it! You’re channelling the Weave,” he exclaimed as if it were something she had never done before, “How does it feel?”
His question made her laugh and blunder into another unintentionally blunt statement. “You know I can do this already.”
“You’re hard to please, aren’t you?” Gale jibed with a smirk, causing her to look down sheepishly. He felt her embarrassment pulse through their connection, the Weave laying all present emotions bare. It was different from his experience with Mystra. Where the goddess had felt distant and unobtainable, this was intimate. It was a sensation Gale wanted to hold on to. Draw out every second of it.
Rhea also sensed the connection, stomach squeezing as she tried to gather her thoughts. Reign in those that wandered too freely when regarding the wizard. Hide those that longed for more of his touch, his passion...just him. She had never known someone like Gale before, her only other romance not even being anything more than a convenient arrangement ending in disaster. She did not know what it was like to be swept up in it all, to lose yourself in a kiss or sensation of another.
Love, at least the kind fuelled with passion, was as much of a mystery to her as the tadpole.
Still, as she watched Gale revel in her magic, as she basked in his joy, a quick, fleeting, impish thought prickled her mind. She wondered what a kiss from the wizard would feel like. Were his lips as soft as she imagined? Would his beard scratch her face...and would she like it? If he kissed her, would he write poetry in her mouth with his tongue? Rhea suddenly felt very hot.
“Oh-”
Then mortified.
“I- I didn’t think...”
Her hands flew to her mouth, covering her squeak of horror as she felt Gale’s instant reaction to her thought. Embarrassment. Trepidation. Rhea wanted to cry, and she recoiled away from him, face burning as she silently begged the Hells to swallow her up.
Elation.
She flinched as Gale caught her by the hand, yanking it away as tears formed in the corners of her eyes. The wizard held up his hands, trying to get her to look at him as he stooped his head.
“Sorry,” he spluttered, desperate to get some words out. “I wasn't-"
“No!” She replied, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- I didn’t mean- My mind just ran away with itself.” She was floundering now, wondering if some kind god would take pity on a lovestruck tiefling and put her out of her misery. “I’m sorry, I made it awkward, I’ll just go.”
“Rhea.” Gale took her hand to stop her, covering it with both his own. She trembled under his fingers, uncertainty quivering in the Weave she had manifested. He tried to channel his own feelings into it; the hope and joy he had felt upon seeing where her mind had tread. The sheer happiness it had filled him with. The Weave began to soothe, the feelings intermingling as they tried to reach a silent understanding. The wizard lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it softly. “It is a pleasant image to be sure.”
Her eyes widened. “Gale, you don’t-”
A thumb brushed her cheek, wiping away a tear that had escaped. It traced the line of her face, causing her breath to hitch as it reached her lips. It pressed softly to the scar there. Rhea saw that the wizard was gazing at it, thoughts full. “Most pleasant,” his gaze lifted, “And most welcome.”
The Weave fortified him, his confidence blooming as he drew her face closer to his. He needed her to know that he wanted this...had been waiting for this. For her. His fingers slipped from her cheek to cradle the back of her head. Her hair was soft and recently washed. Gale felt his eyes flutter closed as he went to close the distance between them, the Weave crackling with tension and excitement as it drew on their emotions. Rhea gasped as his lips touched hers, her hand finding his face as his fingers tangled in her bun.
It was short, innocent, and entirely perfect.
When Gale broke the kiss, he was all teeth. Rhea looked stunned, but happy. Their foreheads pressed together, and the wizard turned his face into her palm to kiss it softly. It brought a surprised giggle from the sorcerer as his beard tickled her skin.
“I think you might underestimate how long I have been waiting...hoping to do that,” Gale admitted.
“Probably for the same length of time I have.”
They shared a laugh, neither one willing to break the spell that tied them together. Neither letting go of the other now that they’d tasted solace in each other’s arms. Gale captured Rhea’s chin between his fingers, tilting her head so he could kiss her again. It was an addicting action; one he could lose himself fully to. As the tiefling pressed a hand to his chest, the orb flared. It was sharp and painful, and the wizard jumped back with a pained groan.
“Gale!”
He held up a hand as the magic surged and calmed, snapping the peace the Weave had drawn. The sounds of the night and Underdark returned to their ears once more.
“I’m alright,” the wizard said, biting down those last jolts of pain as the orb fell silent. His ears were still buzzing, and he could taste rosewater on his tongue again. Rhea’s eyes raked over him, checking for any damage or injury. He felt his ears heat as she cupped his face, checking that too as the light from his tattoo glowed dully.
“I’m alright,” he echoed, hoping she’d believe him so it would chase the worry from her face.
“What happened?”
“Too much excitement,” Gale said, not entirely convinced by the answer. “I think until my condition is better managed, I might have to be more careful. That isn’t to say I want to avoid doing that again,” he finished quickly, settling for a smile as she flushed pink under lilac skin. Flustered suited her quite well. He opened his mouth to speak again but caught sight of the last wispy tendrils of their summoned Weave floating towards the cavern ceiling.
“There it goes. How easily things slip away from us, no matter how hard they were in the obtaining.”
“We could bring it back,” she suggested, wanting to cling to the privacy a little longer.
He smiled lightly, but his brows drew together as he tried to shake the sensation that they were being watched. He would have given everything to steal more time with Rhea. The wizard tucked some hair behind her ear, thrilled at how she tilted her head into the touch.
“Tch! Remove your boots from my presence or lose your feet!”
“Touch my boots, gith, and you’ll find yourself meeting your queen sooner than planned!”
Rhea groaned, squeezing Gale’s arms as she shook her head and privately cursed their teammates. Gale released a puff of air, slipping her hands into his. “Go on, they want you.”
She grumbled, “Well, I don’t want them.”
“There’ll be other nights. But thank you for sharing a moment of magic with me.”
...
It wasn’t missed that Gale and Rhea hung back a little the next morning, well by all but Lae’zel who was eagerly scouting ahead. Karlach nearly squealed when she saw the wizard bravely take the sorcerer’s hand as they walked at the back of the group, and Shadowheart shook her head as they whispered amongst themselves. The conversation was sadly not as intriguing as the group could imagine.
“I never realised it was that easy to cast magic,” Rhea said as she indulged Gale’s pride a little. She was quick to regret it as he said, “I assure you it’s not. Don’t get me wrong, you did well! The somatic component, the verbal component, even the focus on the inner self that invites Mystra in. But I was still your conduit. To perform such a feat alone requires much and arduous study-”
His voice caught as he saw the unimpressed expression forming on Rhea’s face. Her eyebrow raised in silent questioning about the seriousness of his words. The Weave crackled as her magic flared a little, and the wizard rubbed his neck as he regaled on his words.
“-Of course, as a sorcerer, these talents come to you quite naturally. Most naturally, perhaps. Incredibly simple for you to-”
“You’re overdoing it now, Gale,” Rhea said, finally ending his suffering and smiling playfully. She peeked to see that no one was listening or watching– the ever-nosy gossips that they were – before tugging the wizard behind a tree and kissing him.