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Education suited him far better than godhood, he decided. This had initially come as a surprise to Gale; though not to anyone who knew him well. Least of all to Minthara, with whom he now shared his heart and his tower. Perhaps the most unexpected change since the end of their adventure; but hardly an unwelcome one.
Save at moments like this.
"My love, have you seen the old scroll that was here? I swear it was—"
"Why should I know?" said Minthara, as if he were a fool for asking.
…It was then that the trouble began in earnest.
Their first fight was terrible. They had argued before; often, in fact, and bickered oftener still. This was different. It began with a snap; a word spoken a little too harshly, an unkind phrase applied with just a tad too much heat. From there it had devolved, and now he was alone, shut inside of his own study like a poorly behaved school boy who had been sent away without his supper. The memory of her clipped tone set his teeth on edge: but it was the cruelty of his own that brought a wash of shame to his belly.
It didn't help matters when Tara didn't agree with him. This particular betrayal came as no surprise to him, for Minthara and her agreed about everything, even things that were quite obviously not in his best interest.
"Mr.Dekarios."
He didn't respond.
"Gale."
Still he said nothing. She stamped her tiny paw.
"Young man! Listen to your dear old Tara! You simply must get a handle on your temper before you frighten Minthara away—"
Gale barked out a laugh. Tara jumped, her fur standing on end; but he kept his head down, hunting through his drawers with a renewed vigor.
Small mercies— the stone was still in it's usual place, untouched by either Minthara or himself.
"Lae'zel?" he thought, rubbing the stone in his palm.
"Gale?"
"Oh!" He hadn't expected her to answer so swiftly in the Astral. "But it is good to hear your voice after so long. I won't keep you, but I've had a terrible fight—"
"—Combat? With whom?"
"Not that sort of fight." He cleared his throat. "One of a more personal nature…"
"Minthara?"
He explained it all to her at length.
"Ssss—Being…ridiculous. Just—"
The connection petered out before he could hear her verdict.
He attempted to contact Shadowheart next. Helpfully, she wasn't alone.
"Karlach!"
"Soldier! You don't call enough!"
"What are you doing in Baldur's Gate?!"
He heard the distinct sound of their laughter.
"Girl's night. We've been apart too long. You should send Minthara, she'd scare this bartender straight. Could use a free drink or three."
"Ah, but Minthara's why I'm calling. We've been fighting… Karlach?"
"Karlach's gone," said Shadowheart's voice. She giggled, high pitched. "She's swinging, the bartender dared to ask her for more gold."
"You two are a nuisance."
"I might say the same of you," she hiccuped and laughed.
Once more.
"…Wyll?"
"The one and only. At your service."
Gale smiled to himself. Always the gentleman, even when interrupted.
"I hope contacting you this way doesn't bother you—"
"Your voice is far more welcome than others I've known. What ails you?"
"Minthara."
He launched into the sordid tale. When he finally finished, Wyll was silent, no doubt contemplating the latest wickedness his love had inflicted upon him.
"Well. It wasn't right of her to throw your scroll out, but have you ever considered that de-cluttering might be a good thing…?"
Gale groaned and put his head in his hands.
Fed up, he decided to make for Baldur's Gate himself. A portal here, a portal there: and then he was at Jaheira's in time for tea.
"Did you ask Halsin before you came here? He might have more wisdom for you about matters of the heart than I."
Gale sputtered.
"This is not a matter of the heart! It's… it's a matter of principle—!"
"Principle! Principle does not keep your bed or your heart warm, cub." She sighed, clutching a faded letter to her heart. "I promise, it is better to love while you can. Ask me how I know."
Gale returned to his study in his tower shortly after, having barely extracted himself from Karlach and Shadowheart. He wasn't in the mood for making merry: not while sourness still hung in the air between himself and Minthara.
He frowned, staring at the blank parchment before him. He spent most of his days writing— lectures, notes, spells and all manner of enchantments— but now he found himself at a loss. A thousand thoughts, a thousand emotions: and no way to concisely articulate even a third of them to her. He sighed.
Determined, he dipped his pen and began to work.
"Is he still not talking to you, darling?"
Minthara's eyes narrowed. She was already beginning to regret inviting the spawn into their home, and it had barely been five minutes.
"How do you know of our disagreement?"
"Oh he may not be speaking to you, but we've all been chatting about it, rest assured. All this fuss over a simple scroll! I stole far more from him, you know."
Her jaw immediately clenched. Slowly, she forced out a breath— Gale was always chiding her about the tension in her shoulders.
"I… I was planning a surprise."
"How thoughtful," Astarion yawned.
When Gale finally emerged from his study, he barely recognized his own home. The floors were clean, the windows spotless, and all dust had been thoroughly banished. Minthara stood before him, her chin up; but something vulnerable lurked behind her eyes.
"What's this?"
"Your have been restless of late. It rankles you when the house is overly cluttered, though you would never say it. I had hoped to ease your mind."
He glanced to the table- his scroll, returned. He tossed the letter he had been holding aside to embrace her tightly.
"I've been a boor. Forgive me?"
"Always, wizard."