Characters: Gale, Halsin, Original Female Character (Y/N)
Words: 21K (all together!)
Warnings: Injury, Panic/Anxiety, Emotional Stress, Coerced Marriage, Blood, Strong Language
Tags: Romance, Fantasy, Royalty AU, Marriage of Convenience, Political Intrigue, Action/Adventure, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Intimacy, Slow Burn, Kissing, Cuddling, Love Triangle, Threesome (in later chapter), Slow-Build Romance
Tags Part 2: @thoughts-of-bear @artemisofmars
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The night presses in around the carriage, darkness thick and silent except for the creak of wheels over the stone-dirt road. You sit closest to Halsin, fingers tracing the edges of the folded map in your lap. Candles flicker, casting warm, unsteady light over the three of you. You do nothing but follow his movements with quiet attention as he adjusts the map beside you, his hand brushing yours. You feel the subtle pulse of reassurance, the care in every gesture, yet your chest tightens with an ache you cannot place.
“The roads will be tricky,” you say softly, eyes scanning the terrain beyond the carriage window. “If we don’t move quickly, the rogue Weave factions could take advantage of the border.”
Halsin leans slightly closer, resting his hand over the edge of the map. “We’ll make it,” he says. “You’ve carried so much already. Let me share the burden.”
You force a polite smile, but your mind drifts. Gale. His absence, his return, the firelight in his eyes during the breach — all of it curls in your chest. You can feel the distance between him and Halsin in this confined space, tension threaded through every glance, every gesture.
Across from you, Gale’s sharp gaze sweeps the passing woods. His posture is taut, measured, every sense alert. Halsin observes him carefully, quietly noting the subtle movements — the way Gale’s eyes flick toward you when he thinks no one is watching, the faint tension in his shoulders when you adjust your cloak or move in the carriage.
“You’ve changed,” Halsin says softly, voice low, almost conversational. “Since you left the castle… more precise. Controlled. Careful.”
Gale’s eyes meet Halsin’s, flat, unreadable. “I have to be,” he says. “People out there are reckless. I can’t afford mistakes.”
Halsin nods slowly, yet his eyes do not leave Gale. Something in the tension between you and Gale strikes him — the lingering energy, the stolen glances, the silent communication. He files it away, alert, piecing together fragments he never noticed before.
Later, as the moon rises high above the hills, Gale leans slightly toward the edge of the carriage to cast protective wards around the road. You do nothing but watch him, noting the grace and lethal precision in his movements. Halsin, seated beside you, notices the way your gaze lingers. His brow tightens imperceptibly.
Every shadow along the road seems charged with tension. The horses stamp, their hooves clattering against stone. You tuck your fingers into your lap, heart racing with a mixture of anticipation and dread.
When the carriage halts at a clearing, Halsin sets up camp with methodical precision. You assist him, arranging supplies, setting lanterns, and casting minor protective wards. Every gesture he offers is polite, almost too careful . “You’re remarkably composed for someone managing both a kingdom and magical defenses,” Halsin says quietly as you secure a tent flap. “Few would keep their focus under such pressure.” You do nothing but nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. His words are comforting, but you cannot stop thinking of Gale — the one who handled the breach with effortless precision, whose presence sends your chest tightening, whose quiet strength tethers your heart in ways Halsin cannot yet touch.
Gale moves along the perimeter, adjusting wards, eyes flicking over the darkness. You can feel the intensity in every motion, every flicker of the Weave around him. His proximity sends a warmth through you, a sharp reminder of what has always been there, unspoken. Halsin notices. You see it in the subtle way he tilts his head, studies Gale’s movements, and watches you. Pieces are beginning to click in his mind: stolen glances, protective gestures, the tension that threads between you and Gale. Yet he does not speak, maintaining his calm façade, but the awareness is clear.
Night deepens, shadows pooling around the camp. You sit by the fire, hands wrapped around a warm mug, trying to steady your racing heart. Gale moves silently along the edge of the perimeter, and you can feel him more than you see him; quiet, tethered presence, watching, protective. Halsin sits nearby, polite, attentive, offering quiet conversation about strategy and reports from the road. Every word reinforces his care, but your thoughts drift, tugged by memory: Gale’s hand brushing yours in the breach, his focused intensity, the closeness that left your chest fluttering.
Even as Halsin talks, you feel the silent thread connecting you and Gale, the unspoken bond that neither of you can ignore. He is there, and yet just out of reach, his protective energy brushing against you like a reminder of everything unspoken. Halsin notices it too as the way your eyes track him, the faint tension in your fingers, the way you lean slightly toward the fire when Gale passes.
The fire crackles low, casting flickering shadows across the cabin walls. You sit between them, but the tension is thick enough to taste. Halsin watches you closely, eyes sharp, a question already forming in his mind.
“You and Gale,” he begins cautiously, “you’ve known each other a long time, haven’t you?”
You freeze slightly, aware of the weight behind his words. Gale shifts beside you, jaw tightening, eyes narrowing.
“Yes,” he says curtly, voice clipped. “We’ve known each other.”
Halsin tilts his head, persistent. “How long? Before you came to the court?”
Gale glares at him, irritation rising. “Do you really need the specifics? Or is this just idle curiosity?”
You bite your lip, panic rising in your chest. The way Halsin is piecing it together, the intensity in Gale’s gaze, the closeness — it’s too much. Before either of them can stop you, you move toward the door, the night air hitting your face as you step outside. The tension inside the camp lingers in your chest, your thoughts spiraling as you pace beneath the stars.
Gale and Halsin exchange a glance. Gale runs a hand through his hair, jaw tight with annoyance. “I can’t believe he’s asking these questions,” he mutters under his breath.
Halsin, calm but perceptive, shakes his head slightly. “I’m not blind,” he says quietly. “I just… needed clarity, and I found it.” As he gets up “And now if you will excuse me; I need a word with my wife.”
–-
You pace the edge of the camp, hands clenching your cloak, trying to steady the rapid thrum of panic in your chest. Every flash of memory — the garden, the breach, the letter, the library — all collide into a whirlwind of longing, guilt, and fear. You then see Halsin appear as his expression shifts, a flicker of anger and hurt passing through his calm features. “I don’t understand,” he says finally, voice low but sharp. “How… How could you accept this marriage, Y/N? I know that the two of you had history, but I did not think how deep it truly was. ”
Your stomach drops. You open your mouth, but words fail you. You do nothing but shrink slightly under the weight of his gaze.
Your jaw tightens. “Halsin—” you begin, voice wavering, but Halsin cuts you off.
“No, Y/N. You don’t get to apologise,” Halsin snaps. “You chose this life, or at least you let it happen. Do you realize what that means? The betrayal to not only me but the people we look after? To the loyalty you’ve ignored because of him?”
Upon hearing this commotion Gale appeared, eyes flash dangerously, tension coiling in his posture. “She didn’t betray anyone,” he growls. “This isn’t about loyalty. It’s about protecting her and letting her have freedom — something you clearly don’t understand!”
Halsin steps closer, voice rising. “Protecting her? Is that what you call it? Running in circles, leaving her vulnerable, letting her shoulder burdens alone while you—”
You clutch your hands to your chest, heart hammering. The firelight flickers across their angry, determined faces, and your chest feels like it might split. You can’t take it — the shouting, the accusations, the impossible tension. You stumble to your feet.
“Please.” you say quietly before you glare at the both of them while they bicker, getting louder with each word, finally gaining the courage to face them head on “can you both just stop?”
You step back, taking a deep, shaky breath as both men stare at you, tension coiled like steel in the air. Your hands ball into fists at your sides, the firelight catching in your eyes.
“I need you both to understand something,” you say, voice trembling but firm. “I didn’t have a choice in any of this.” You swallow hard, letting the words hit the quiet night between you. “The marriage, the arrangement of Gale coming back.. all of it was decided for me. I did not consent in the way you think I did. So don’t… don’t act like I had any say in any of this.”
Gale’s expression tightens, a mixture of frustration and hurt flashing across his face. Halsin’s jaw sets, eyes narrowing as he processes your words.
“This isn’t about what you think is right, or what you want,” you continue, stepping closer, shoulders trembling. “I didn’t choose it, and I didn’t have the power to. And it’s unfair of either of you to assume I could — or should — navigate this in a way that suits your feelings. I’m the one living it, not either of you. Do you understand?”
They don’t respond at once, the silence heavy and full of weight. You do nothing but meet their eyes, daring them to argue, to object, to dismiss your truth.
“I am trying to survive in a world that has already made decisions for me,” you whisper, voice breaking slightly. “And you two… you’re letting your pride and your feelings blind you to the fact that I’m the one paying the cost. Stop assuming, stop pushing, and for once, try listening. Because this… this isn’t just about either of you.”
Gale blinks, momentarily taken aback, jaw tightening. Halsin’s eyes narrow, the flicker of anger now tempered by realization.
You swallow hard, letting your chest heave with the weight of honesty, realizing that the truth has finally been spoken — no matter how uncomfortable, no matter how much it shakes them, they now see you, fully, as you are.
Gale’s chest heaves slightly, frustration burning in his eyes. “Y/N…” he begins, voice low but edged with emotion, “you’ve always—”
Halsin interrupts, jaw tight, his calm exterior faltering. “I… I didn’t realize—” he begins, but you shake your head. The weight of the conversation is too much, too immediate, and your chest constricts. Panic rises like a tide. “I… I need to be alone” you whisper, voice trembling. Before either of them can stop you, you turn and flee into the woods, the night air hitting your face like a shock of cold reality.
Branches scrape against your cloak as you stumble deeper into the forest, heart hammering, magic tingling at your fingertips. The tension, the guilt, the longing — it all presses down, making it hard to breathe. You keep moving, desperate to escape the weight of their eyes, their words, and the impossible that has ensnared you.
And for the first time in what feels like forever; you cry.
Characters: Gale, Halsin, Original Female Character (Y/N)
Words: 21K (all together!)
Warnings: Injury, Panic/Anxiety, Emotional Stress, Coerced Marriage, Blood, Strong Language
Tags: Romance, Fantasy, Royalty AU, Marriage of Convenience, Political Intrigue, Action/Adventure, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Intimacy, Slow Burn, Kissing, Cuddling, Love Triangle, Threesome (in later chapter), Slow-Build Romance
Tags Part 2: @thoughts-of-bear @artemisofmars
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Morning arrived without mercy.
The council chambers filled early, sunlight filtering through high windows and catching on gold inlays etched into the stone floors. It should have been an ordinary working day — negotiations, revisions, logistics — the quiet machinery of governance turning as it always did.
Instead, tension coiled beneath every breath.
As you stood at the head of the chamber, posture immaculate, expression composed. If anyone watching closely might have noticed the faint stiffness in your shoulders, the way your fingers lingered a second too long over parchment, no one dared comment. Leadership taught you how to carry strain without letting it show.
Gale noticed anyway. Of course he did.
He had taken his place at the long table opposite you, stacks of documents neatly arranged, arcane notes inked in precise script. He told himself he was here to work — to advise, to stabilize wards, to serve the city.
And yet, every time you spoke, his attention fractured.
You moved with practiced authority, voice calm and steady, but there was something brittle beneath it now. Something held too tightly. Gale recognized it instantly — the same way he always had. It unsettled him more than any whispered rumor ever could.
Halsin stood beside her, close but not touching.
A quiet presence. Solid. Grounded.
Too grounded.
“Let’s begin,” You say, meeting the room with steady resolve. “The outer districts remain vulnerable until the ley lines are reinforced. Gale, your assessment?”
All eyes turned to him.
Gale inclined his head, grateful for the anchor of the task. “The wards can be strengthened within a fortnight,” he replied evenly. “Provided we coordinate with the druids and ensure uninterrupted access to the river stones.”
Halsin nodded. “My circle can oversee the ritual,” he added smoothly. “But it will require sustained cooperation between our orders.”
Cooperation.
The word settled heavily between the three of you.
You felt it like a physical thing, the necessity of it, the inescapable closeness it demanded. You gestured for both of them to step nearer, spreading the maps across the central table.
For the rest of the morning, there was no avoiding it.
As the three of you work shoulder to shoulder, voices overlapping in careful rhythm. Gale offered precise arcane solutions; Halsin countered with natural balance and long-term consequence. Neither spoke over the other. Neither yielded ground easily.
And you stood between them, mediator and monarch both.
You felt the pull of Gale’s attention like a quiet heat — never improper, never spoken aloud, but always there. Every time he leaned in to indicate a rune or clarify a calculation, your breath caught just enough to remind her you were not as composed as you tried to appear.
Halsin noticed that too. He did not comment.
Instead, he adjusted his stance — subtly, deliberately — placing himself closer to her side. A grounding presence. A reminder. When he spoke to you, his voice softened just enough to be intimate without crossing a line.
“You should sit,” he murmured at one point, low enough that only she could hear. “You’ve been standing for hours.”
“I’m fine,” you replied automatically.
Gale looked up at the same moment.
“You’re not,” he said, equally quiet, concerned about breaking through restraint before he could stop it.
The air went still.
You straightened, forcing a measured smile. “I assure you, I am.”
Neither man seemed convinced.
By midday, the chamber felt smaller.
Every shared glance carried weight. Every pause stretched too long. Gale found himself bristling at Halsin’s familiarity, at the ease with which he reached for your attention — and worse, at how naturally she allowed it.
Halsin, for his part, felt the tension sharpen with every passing hour. Gale’s concern was not disruptive, but it was undeniable. The way his gaze followed her, the instinctive way he stepped in when her focus wavered; these were not the gestures of a mere advisor.
And you were painfully aware of both of them.
Moving carefully, choosing words with deliberate neutrality, refusing to lean toward either presence more than necessary. Still, the strain accumulated — duty pressing from all sides, emotion held at bay by sheer will.
By late afternoon, the decision was unavoidable.
“We’ll need to inspect the river wards in person,” you say, rolling up the final map. “Together.”
Gale exhaled slowly.
Halsin nodded once. “Of course.”
None of them spoke the obvious truth: there was no version of together that would not test them.
The walk through the outer gardens was quiet, the city’s distant hum softened by greenery and stone. Sunlight dappled the path, leaves whispering overhead — a setting too gentle for the tension it held.
You walked between them.
Gale stayed half a step behind, watchful, as if guarding her from exhaustion she refused to admit. Halsin walked at her side, matching her pace, his presence steady and grounding.
It should have been unbearable.
Instead, it was worse — manageable.
That was what frightened you the most.
At the river’s edge, they stopped. Gale knelt to inspect the stones, fingers tracing faintly glowing sigils. Halsin murmured to the water, testing its response. You watched them both, chest tight with the knowledge that this balance could not last.
For a brief moment, Gale looked up.
Their eyes met.
Something unspoken passed between the two of you. Maybe recognition, restraint, a question neither dared ask. Halsin straightened at the same time, his gaze settling on them with quiet understanding. The day continued. Work was done and nothing was said.
And yet, as evening approached, all three knew the truth:
This was no longer a matter of duty alone; someone would eventually break.
Characters: Gale, Halsin, Original Female Character (Y/N)
Words: 21K (all together!)
Warnings: Injury, Panic/Anxiety, Emotional Stress, Coerced Marriage, Blood, Strong Language
Tags: Romance, Fantasy, Royalty AU, Marriage of Convenience, Political Intrigue, Action/Adventure, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Intimacy, Slow Burn, Kissing, Cuddling, Love Triangle, Threesome (in later chapter), Slow-Build Romance
Tags Part 2: @thoughts-of-bear @artemisofmars
Masterlist Prev. Chapter Next Chapter
Gale moves through forests and hills, the air thick with the scent of wet earth and smoke from distant villages. You do not know where he is, and for good reason. Rogue Weave users, untrained and reckless, have been taking advantage of the borders, causing disturbances that threaten not only the kingdom but anyone who steps too close. He intercepts them silently, weaving the Weave with a precision sharpened by months of absence. Spells crackle in the shadows, wards snap into place, and dangerous magic collapses harmlessly under his control. Every motion is exact, deliberate — lethal when necessary, but never wasteful. His focus is unyielding, yet his thoughts drift constantly to you.
At night, under the stars, he unrolls a letter he never sent, pressing it to his chest. You are in every word, every pause, every fold of that paper. He whispers your name to the wind, imagining your fingers tracing the words, imagining your voice reading them aloud. He allows himself a brief, private moment of longing — a memory of the gardens, of stolen glances, of promises whispered in the moonlight. Then he sets it aside, refocuses, and steps back into the fight.
In one village, a rogue Weave user attempts to summon fire near a market. Gale moves with sharp precision: one gesture, a shield forms, a spark is caught mid-air, and the danger is dissipated before anyone notices. A mother clutching her child looks up in awe, unaware of the danger just passed. Gale’s jaw tightens. Every time he protects innocents, every time he neutralizes threats, he thinks of you. The thought fuels him, keeps him grounded — and yet, it reminds him of what he’s missing.
Even in solitude, even in danger, the idea of returning to you lingers. He imagines the weight of your gaze, the way you read him without words, the subtle warmth that comes from knowing someone sees your heart. It is both comfort and ache, a tether to a life paused while he fights unseen battles.
When he finally returns, the castle is alive with tension. Courtiers whisper in the hallways, advisors glance at one another, and even Halsin notices the way his presence shifts the room. You watch him from a balcony overlooking the courtyard, heart catching at the sight of him. Dust clings to his cloak, sunlight glinting off the edge of his hair, and the weight of absence tightens in your chest.
“Halsin,” you murmur under your breath, the name tasting bitter and guilty. “Gale’s back.”
You do nothing but follow him through the halls. His eyes flick to every shadow, every detail, noting potential threats, analyzing movements. He is sharper, colder, and undeniably more dangerous than the man who left. Yet the way he moves, precise and controlled, still carries the echo of him — the Gale you know and cannot forget.
The council summons you immediately. Factions question recent alliances, whispers of political sabotage travel through the castle, and everyone senses the fragility of the kingdom’s peace. You feel the weight of their expectations pressing down, and Gale is at your side, silent and vigilant. Every glance, every subtle gesture, carries meaning. You want to reach for him, but the rules, the politics, and Halsin’s presence keep your hands at your sides. You missed him. You feared for him. And yet, you also knew that part of him returned to the castle not for comfort, but to confront the chaos left in your absence.
You remember his words, the promise that lingered in the ink, the quiet insistence that you were still his in ways the world could not touch. You wish you could tell him that the longing was mutual, that every council meeting, every whispered threat, every shadowed glance made you think of him.
-Break-
The castle is quiet for once, the only light coming from scattered candles flickering along the walls. You, Gale, and Halsin are poring over maps and reports in the war room, late into the night. The council’s demands weigh heavy on your shoulders, but the stillness offers a rare moment of focus. You feel Gale’s eyes on you more than once, subtle glances that make your chest tighten. Halsin notices, of course, the way your fingers brush over parchment when your hand trembles slightly, the way your posture shifts when Gale leans in to point something out on the map. He doesn’t speak yet, but the quiet scrutiny in his gaze tells you he’s starting to see more than he should.
A sudden knock at the door startles you. A guard steps inside, breathless and wide-eyed.
“Your Highness! The northern walls — they’ve been breached! Rogue Weave users, they’ve infiltrated the perimeter!”
The room explodes into motion. You do nothing but grab your cloak and position yourself beside Gale. Halsin rises smoothly, calm but alert, already moving to secure exits and flank positions.
Outside, the night air is thick with tension. Shadows twist beneath the moonlight, distorted by the flames of protective wards and the flicker of lanterns. You can hear the distant crackle of magic before you see it, and your pulse races.
Gale moves first, fluid and controlled. His gestures send arcs of the Weave dancing through the courtyard, deflecting bolts of rogue magic aimed at the walls. Sparks illuminate his face in flashes — the sharp curve of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes. You do nothing but follow, reinforcing his wards with your own minor spells, heart hammering at the proximity and the danger.
Halsin positions himself near you, offering steady support, but you notice him watching Gale carefully, the subtle tightening of his jaw, the way he shifts slightly closer to gauge your reactions. You realize he’s beginning to notice something — the tension, the history, the unspoken bond that stretches between you and Gale.
A rogue bursts past the outer ward, dagger raised, magic crackling dangerously. Your fingers move instinctively, sending a shield just in time, but it wavers under the force. Gale steps beside you, hand brushing against your back as he channels a powerful, protective spell that sends the attacker sprawling harmlessly to the ground. You feel the heat of his presence linger longer than necessary, heart stuttering.
Halsin’s eyes flicker between you two, a silent question forming in his mind, but he says nothing, focusing on the other attackers. The battle continues — rogue Weave users strike in waves, Gale counters with lethal precision, you reinforce, and Halsin covers your flanks. The courtyard is alive with light and shadow, sparks and sound, every movement charged with danger and unspoken tension.
Finally, Gale channels the Weave into a brilliant protective barrier, neutralizing the remaining attackers. Silence falls, broken only by the labored breathing of you, Gale, and Halsin.
-----
You clutch the edge of your desk inside the war room later, hands trembling slightly, remembering the heat of Gale’s presence, the brush of his hand against yours, the proximity that left your chest tight. Halsin steps closer, and you feel his calm steadiness, but also the faint tension in his posture. He doesn’t speak, but you know he is starting to put the pieces together; then again, it could be the anxiety in your chest.
A messenger arrives, urgent and polite: the council requires all three of you to travel immediately. The rogue faction’s attack is only a symptom of broader unrest. You glance at Gale, who allows a brief flicker of acknowledgment, before focusing again on the report in front of him. The weight of duty presses down, but so does the tension between you, Gale, and Halsin as a fragile thread that has only grown tauter tonight.
You do nothing but steal one last glance at Gale, feeling both relief and longing, knowing that this could be either the best or worst thing that has ever happened to you.
Characters: Gale, Halsin, Original Female Character (Y/N)
Words: 21K (all together!)
Warnings: Injury, Panic/Anxiety, Emotional Stress, Coerced Marriage, Blood, Strong Language
Tags: Romance, Fantasy, Royalty AU, Marriage of Convenience, Political Intrigue, Action/Adventure, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Intimacy, Slow Burn, Kissing, Cuddling, Love Triangle, Threesome (in later chapter), Slow-Build Romance
Tags Part 2: @thoughts-of-bear @artemisofmars
Masterlist Prev. Chapter Next Chapter
The wedding ceremony is everything it is meant to be.
You stand beneath vaulted stone and woven branches, white and gold catching the light like something sanctified. The fabric of your dress is heavy with embroidery — leaves, stars, symbols of unity meant to reassure a watching court that this alliance is sacred, chosen, unbreakable. A circlet rests against your brow, cool and steady, though nothing else in you feels so composed. You say the vows when prompted. You place your hand in Halsin’s when instructed. You smile when the court expects it.
Halsin’s expression is open, warm, and radiant with sincerity. When he looks at you, it is with patience and devotion, with a certainty that makes your chest ache for reasons you refuse to name. He believes in this. In you. In what this marriage represents.
You tell yourself that must be enough.
And yet—
You feel it.
Even before you allow yourself to look, you know where Gale stands.
At the edge of the hall, half-shadowed by banners and pillars, watching. Not intruding. Not approaching. Just there as constant and undeniable as gravity. When your gaze finally lifts, it finds him instantly, like it always has.
His face is unreadable. Carefully composed. The kind of expression he wears when he is containing something volatile.
But his eyes do not let go of you.
Not when you vow loyalty.
Not when the rings are exchanged.
Not when Halsin leans in to press a reverent kiss to your knuckles.
You feel Gale’s attention like heat against your skin, like a spell half-cast and held at the edge of release. It follows you through every breath, every word, every step down the aisle. And when the applause rises, polite and thunderous, you swear it’s only to drown out the sound of your heart breaking quietly in your chest.
That night, the palace settles into celebration.
Music drifts through open halls. Laughter echoes where corridors twist and overlap. Servants move like ghosts, careful not to disturb the fragile triumph of the evening.
The court gathers in silk and candlelight, diplomacy disguised as revelry. You wear another gown — darker this time, embroidered with subtle sigils of authority rather than romance. You move through the crowd as you always do, measured and precise, until you see him.
Gale is dancing.
Not with you
The woman at his side laughs too brightly, fingers resting just a moment too long on his sleeve. He allows it. His hand rests at her waist, polite, distant — but present enough that something hot and irrational coils in your chest.
Jealousy takes you by surprise. Sharp. Possessive. Unwelcome.
You excuse yourself before the dance ends. Taking more wine then what you could handle; and drinking it in one big gulp. You’ve seen enough.
You slip quietly through the castle corridors, hands curling around the edges of the letter Gale sent weeks ago — the one you read and reread when nights felt too long, too empty. The ink is faded now, the folds soft from your fingers tracing them over and over. You don’t want anyone to see you clutching it, don’t want anyone to know that Gale’s words still weigh heavier than your crown.
When you enter the library, the scent of old parchment and polished wood fills you, grounding you. Suddenly he walks in to stand by the tall windows, arms crossed, gaze flicking to the horizon, but the moment you sense him, your expression hardens slightly.
“You shouldn’t be here,” you said, though your voice betrays you with the tremor you try to hide.
Gale doesn’t move toward you, doesn’t step back. He simply watches, letting the silence between you thrum. “I could say the same,” he says finally, and his tone carries the memory of every unspoken word you’ve left between you.
You clutch the letter tighter. “I was… reading this again,” you said softly, holding it out toward him. “I needed… to remember.”
He glances at the folded paper, his eyes flicking to yours, and for the first time since the wedding, the weight of absence seems to crack the air between you. “You read it more than once?” he asks, voice low, almost a whisper. “Did it help?”
You bite your lip, uncertain. “I… it reminds me of what we… what I wanted. Before everything got… complicated.”
Gale steps closer, and you feel the pull immediately, the heat in the space between you, the danger of proximity that neither of you can ignore. “And now?” he asks, almost too casually.
You hesitate, glancing down at the letter. “Now I’m married, you mean” you say, letting the word fall like a stone. Your fingers tremble over the paper. “But it doesn’t… change everything we've been through.”
He stiffens, jaw tightening, but you don’t flinch. You can see the war waging in his eyes. you see the longing, the anger, the ache of being excluded from your life in ways he can’t control. “You think I stopped caring,” he says, voice sharp but controlled, “just because your hand bears another man’s ring?”
Your chest aches at the honesty, at the raw edge in his tone. “No,” you whisper, stepping closer, though not close enough to reach him. “I know you didn’t. And… I haven’t stopped feeling anything either.”
For a heartbeat, the library seems suspended in time — the smell of books, the soft glow of candlelight, the weight of the letter between your hands — all of it reminding you that some things can’t be contained.
Then the tension snaps, sharp and dangerous. “You can’t just—” he starts, gesturing with one hand toward the ring, toward the reality you’ve tried to reconcile.
“I know!” you interrupt, frustration and longing twisting together. “I didn’t choose this to hurt you. I didn’t choose… any of it. But we both know this was never just about us!”
He swallows, expression unreadable, and you see it — the quiet storm behind his eyes. “I know,” he says finally, tone quieter, closer to something like confession. “I just… hate that I’m here, watching you walk this line without me.”
Your fingers tighten on the letter. “I wish things were different,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “I wish… we had more time, more… space to figure out how we feel before…”
“Before Halsin?” Gale says, the name heavy but unspoken between both of you. He doesn’t need to say it aloud for you to feel the tension.
You nod, a slow, guilty movement. “Yes. Before everything became so… official.”
He studies you, the fire in his eyes meeting the careful composure in yours, and for a moment, it feels like you could collapse into the space between the words and the silence and the past you both share.
“You’re still mine,” he says finally, voice soft, dangerous. “Even if you don’t see it. Even if the world thinks otherwise. You are still mine, in every way that matters.”
Your heart stutters, caught between longing, fear, and the guilt that coils around Halsin’s presence, even if he is nowhere near this library. “And you’re still… you,” you whisper back, fingers brushing the edge of the letter, unsure if you mean the man, the mage, the friend, or all of it.
He steps closer, closing the distance just slightly, and you can feel the heat, the weight, the ache of months of absence and unspoken truths. “We’ll figure this out,” he says softly, almost a vow. “But right now… this is all I have.”
You swallow, letting the words settle, knowing they are both promise and danger. You can’t deny him, not here, not now. And yet, the letter in your hands reminds you that some things have to remain hidden… at least for now.
Later…
You sit with Halsin over wine at the end of the celebration just one glass, then another — the fire low, the air heavy with unspoken understanding. He speaks gently, never pushing, never assuming.
You listen. You nod. You thank him.
When he tells you he will wait for you again, that there is no rush, no expectation — relief loosens something in you so suddenly you almost gasp. Guilt follows close behind, sharp and immediate. You accept his kindness with hands folded tight in your lap, hoping he cannot see how badly you need it.
You sleep alone that night.
The bed feels too large.
The crown rests on the table, untouched.
Your ring feels heavier than gold.
The next morning, after saying your good byes to the guests, you overhear some gossiping from some of the service maids.
"Poor Gale...vanishes without a simple goodbye? How odd of him.."
Characters: Gale, Halsin, Original Female Character (Y/N)
Words: 21K (all together!)
Warnings: Injury, Panic/Anxiety, Emotional Stress, Coerced Marriage, Blood, Strong Language
Tags: Romance, Fantasy, Royalty AU, Marriage of Convenience, Political Intrigue, Action/Adventure, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Intimacy, Slow Burn, Kissing, Cuddling, Love Triangle, Threesome (in later chapter), Slow-Build Romance
Tags Part 2: @thoughts-of-bear @artemisofmars
Author's Note (05/13/2026): OH MY GOD I ThOUGHt I HAD THIS ALREADY READY TO GO my bad for it being late!!
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Present Day
You understood why they trusted him and why the match made sense. Still, as the voices around you blurred into approval and relief, thoughts had drifted elsewhere — to the quiet of the palace library where Gale used to work late into the night, to the way he listened as though her thoughts were worth unraveling, to the space he once occupied so naturally at her side.
You did not resent Halsin. Not anymore, at least.
He was kind. He was patient. He did not look at her as something to be claimed, but as someone to stand beside. When he spoke to you, it was with respect, not expectation. There was comfort in that. A sense of steadiness she could lean on when the weight of the crown pressed too hard.
But comfort was not the same as longing.
You press your palm lightly against the windowpane, grounding yourself on the cool surface. Your reflection stared back — composed, capable, a ruler shaped by responsibility rather than indulgence.
No one could see the tightness in her chest.
No one could hear the quiet thought beneath the calm: If Gale were here, would this have happened so quickly?
She did not know the answer. That uncertainty hurt most of all.
----------
Later, when Halsin came to find her, his steps were measured, respectful. He stopped a careful distance away, as though mindful of the space she carried around herself these days.
“I know this was sudden,” he said gently. “If you need time—”
You turn toward him, offering a small, practiced smile. “The realm doesn’t have the luxury of waiting.”
His gaze softened, understanding without pity. “And you?”
Your breath caught
“I will….adapt,”
Halsin nodded, accepting the answer for what it was. “Then we will move forward carefully,” he replied. “This arrangement does not require you to sacrifice more than you already have.”
The words were generous. Thoughtful.
And still, they reminded you of everything she had already given up.
When you were alone again, you finally returned to the table. The parchment waited patiently, unmoving, indifferent to the hesitation curling in her chest. Tracing the edge of the document with your fingers, eyes skimming the formal language. The future it promised was orderly, secure, and defensible. It would protect the people. Your people. It would quell dissent. It would strengthen the family reign.
It would do everything it was meant to do.
And yet, you found yourself thinking of a palace garden at night, of laughter softened by moonlight, of a kiss that had not been planned but had felt inevitable. Wondering where Gale was now — whether he thought of you, whether the distance between them had been intentional or merely another consequence of duty.
You wonder if he would hear of the engagement through rumor or ink, impersonal and cold.
The thought settled heavily in her chest.
You straightened, lifting her chin. Whatever doubts she carried would not be allowed to rule her. She had been shaped by responsibility long before this moment, pressing your signet into the wax, sealing the contract with a steady hand.
The wax cooled. The vow was made.
And somewhere beyond the palace walls — in the space he once occupied so effortlessly — Gale was absent in a way that felt far louder than his presence ever had.
----------
The city gates opened to welcome him, but Gale hardly noticed the bustle of courtiers and merchants. His mind was consumed by the thought of her — Y/N. Time had passed since he’d last seen her, four years since Candlekeep and the observatory, and one since that night in the palace garden where something unspoken had begun to stir between them.
Now, returning to the palace, he expected relief, familiarity, the comfort of old routines. Instead, he found something entirely different.
As He entered the great hall, expecting to see her immersed in her courtly duties, poised and commanding as always. Instead, his gaze fell upon Y/N standing beside Halsin.
Halsin’s presence was calm, confident, and easy — the kind of charm that disarmed anyone at first glance. His hand rested lightly against hers as they discussed trade arrangements, his voice low and warm. Gale stepped forward, intending to greet her warmly, when a courtier whispered something to him, almost casually:
“Your grace, congratulations are due — Lady Y/N and Lord Halsin’s engagement has been formalized. The announcement is to be made at the council tonight.”
Engaged? His chest tightened, a sharp, sudden pain. His eyes flicked from the courtier to Y/N, and then to Halsin, who stood close, polite and attentive in a way that made his stomach twist.
Y/N turned at the sound of his footsteps, her expression lighting with recognition and relief. “Gale,” she said softly, unaware of the storm building in his chest. “It’s good to see you again.”He forced a measured smile, nodding. “It’s… good to be back,” he said, voice strained. “You’ve been keeping the court in order?” “I’ve been managing,” she replied lightly, tone steady, betraying none of the tension Gale felt. Her posture near Halsin was flawless — polite, graceful, careful, yet carrying a subtle deference that made Gale’s chest tighten.
Gale didn’t need words to see past it. His eyes traced the faint crease in her brow, the slight tightness in her shoulders, the way her hands lingered on the edge of the table as if holding herself upright. The practiced elegance was there, yes, but the exhaustion, the overextension — the truth behind “managing” — was unmistakable. She’s pushing herself too hard. She’s barely keeping it together, he realized, and a surge of protectiveness rolled through him. “Managing?” he murmured, stepping closer. “That doesn’t look like managing. That looks like… burning yourself out.”
Y/N forced a small, polite smile, but her eyes flickered with guilt, surprise, and something else — a flicker of longing. She didn’t deny him, because she knew he could see the truth in a way no one else could. “You always know how to see through me,” she admitted softly.
Gale’s heart thudded. He wanted to reach out, to brush a stray lock of hair from her face, to remind her she wasn’t alone in carrying the world. “I’ve always worried about you,” he murmured, tone heavy with unspoken feelings. “Even when you pretend that everything is under control. I can feel when it’s not. And… I can’t ignore it.”
Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, a tremor passing through her hands. The tension Halsin’s presence had created all day, the whisper of engagement, the careful balance of courtly duty — it all collided in that moment. And yet, standing here with Gale, the one who had kissed her beneath the moonlight, the one who had always known her, she felt a dangerous spark of relief.
“You’re right,” she whispered, voice tight. “I’ve been… trying too hard.”
Gale allowed a small, private smile to tug at his lips, but his eyes held intensity. “Then let me help you,” he said, softly, firmly, and though the words were simple, they carried the weight of months of longing, the memory of the garden, and the unspoken promise of more. Before the moment could stretch any further, a smooth, calm voice interrupted. “Gale,” Halsin said, stepping closer, courteous but with an edge of authority. “Your advice is invaluable, but don’t forget why you’ve returned. The council awaits, and we have much to discuss — the city’s safety, trade, and protocol. Y/N has already been balanced enough today.”
Gale’s gaze flicked to Halsin, tension coiling like a spring in his chest. The reminder was polite, measured, almost diplomatic — yet beneath the calm exterior, it was a clear statement: this is my place too. Gale’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to nod, the weight of restraint heavy over desire. Halsin’s presence was a constant, polite shadow over every thought of Y/N, a reminder of the reality he now had to navigate. Y/N glanced between them, a subtle flicker of apology in her eyes. Gale caught it and, for a brief moment, the private world they had almost shared slipped through their fingers, swallowed by the demands of court and politics.
Even as the council session began, Gale’s mind replayed the moment on an endless loop: the whispered announcement, Halsin’s steady attentiveness, Y/N’s delicate composure hiding strain, and the subtle tension that had hung between them. He realized, with sharp clarity, that the battle for her attention, for her heart, wasn’t just emotional anymore — it was now entwined with politics, duty, and the careful maneuvers of court. And yet, the pull between them — the memory of the garden, the intimacy of the kiss, the quiet moments he had shared with her before — remained. It refused to be ignored, no matter how many reminders Halsin offered.
The slow burn had become a wildfire, and Gale knew that every glance, every word, every touch from now on would be heavily watched and guarded.
Break - Y/N’s Pov
The council chamber was quiet but alive with the low murmur of parchment and the faint hum of wards beneath the stone floors. You sat at the center of it all, hands folded over maps and ledgers, spine straight, expression carefully composed. It was a posture you had learned well — calm worn like armor, steady enough to withstand scrutiny.
It held well; Until Gale entered the hall.
The armor thinned instantly, as though it had been fashioned from paper instead of steel. You felt it before you saw him — the subtle shift in the air, the way your chest stuttered without permission. He moved with that same careful grace, steps quiet, presence unmistakable. His eyes swept the room once, twice — and then found you.
The recognition was immediate. Unforgiving.
You had not expected him to return so soon. Had not expected the ache of longing to resurface with such force, sharp and uninvited, settling beneath your ribs like something unfinished. Months of distance had done nothing to dull it. If anything, it had only made the absence louder.
Your fingers tightened slightly over the parchment.
Then your gaze shifted — and found Halsin.
Calm. Steady. Polished.
He stood close to you now, a quiet anchor at your side, his presence familiar in a way that had grown slowly over weeks of shared responsibility. He spoke softly with one of the advisors, voice measured, reassuring. Duty made manifest. He was meant to be here — meant to remind you of balance, of stability, of the weight you carried and the support the realm required you to accept.
You had learned to rely on that steadiness.
And yet.
Your chest fluttered traitorously as your eyes drifted back to Gale. The contrast was impossible to ignore. Where Halsin grounded, Gale unsettled. Where Halsin soothed, Gale ignited something restless and dangerous beneath your careful composure.
A quiet rebellion stirred, unbidden and persistent.
Gale belongs here.
The thought startled you with its clarity.
He belongs with me.
You swallowed, forcing your attention back to the council proceedings, to the maps and numbers and responsibilities laid out before you. This was not the time. Not the place. You could not afford longing — not now, not with so much at stake.
And yet, even as you listened, even as you nodded and responded when required, you felt the weight of his presence pressing against the space he had once occupied so naturally at your side.
She should have looked away.
You felt the moment slipping, felt it in the way Gale’s attention sharpened — not polite, not distant, but focused entirely on yourself. The council chamber faded at the edges, voices blurring into an indistinct murmur as his presence pressed closer, warm and unyielding.
“You’re holding yourself too tightly,” Gale said quietly.
The words landed with unnerving precision.
You felt your breath caught before you could stop it. Forced a small, polite smile — the one she used when she needed to appear untroubled — but her eyes betrayed her anyway. Guilt flickered there, then surprise, and beneath it all, something far more dangerous. Longing.
She knew, in that instant, that she could not deny him.
Not Gale.
Not when he had always seen her so clearly, when he read the tension in her shoulders and the careful restraint in her voice like a second language.
“You always know how to see through me,” you admitted softly, the truth slipping out before you could dress it in something safer.
His concern deepened, and that was when fear joined the longing in her chest.
If he keeps looking at me like this… he’s going to know.
“I’ve always worried about you,” Gale murmured. His voice carried the weight of months apart, of words left unsaid. “Even when you pretend everything is under control. I can feel when it’s not. And… I can’t ignore it.”
Your hands trembled before you could still them, fingers tightening against the edge of the table. The careful balance she had maintained all day cracked. The whispers you had overheard, the engagement sealed in wax, the expectations pressing down on her — all of it surged forward at once.
And yet, standing here with Gale — the one who had kissed you beneath moonlight, the one who had known her before duty demanded so much — suddenly felt a dangerous spark of relief.
As though part of you wanted him to see.
“You’re right,” you whispered, voice tight. “I’ve been… trying too hard.”
For a moment, his expression softened, just enough to make your chest ache. The smallest smile touched his lips, but his eyes stayed intense, searching her face as if memorizing it.
“Then let me help you,” he said quietly. “Always.”
The words struck deeper than she was prepared for. They carried memory and promise and the unbearable pull of what might have been. For one reckless heartbeat, you almost leaned into him — almost let herself forget everything else.
Almost.
“Gale.”
Halsin’s voice cut cleanly through the moment.
You turn, heart jolting painfully back into reality as Halsin stepped closer. His expression was calm, courteous, his tone measured — but there was something firm beneath it, something unmistakably territorial.
“Your advice is invaluable,” Halsin said evenly, “but don’t forget why you’ve returned. The council awaits, and we have much to discuss — the city’s safety, trade, and protocol. Y/N has already been balanced enough today.”
The words were gentle.
They felt anything but.
You can feel the space between you and Gale shift — not physically, but undeniably. Halsin’s presence settled beside you like a boundary you had helped draw, a reminder of vows made and responsibilities accepted.
Gale’s gaze flicked to Halsin, tension tightening visibly in his posture before he forced himself to nod. Restraint pulled him back, heavy and reluctant.
She watched it happen, guilt twisting sharply in her chest.
When your eyes met Gale’s again, you let the apology show — brief, unspoken, meant only for him. He caught it immediately.
And in that instant, you knew.
He knows.
And it broke you.
Because the truth was written too clearly in both of your faces. The private world they had nearly reclaimed had slipped through her fingers, swallowed once more by duty, expectation, and the engagement she could no longer pretend didn’t exist.
Characters: Gale, Halsin, Original Female Character (Y/N)
Words: 21K (all together!)
Warnings: Injury, Panic/Anxiety, Emotional Stress, Coerced Marriage, Blood, Strong Language
Tags: Romance, Fantasy, Royalty AU, Marriage of Convenience, Political Intrigue, Action/Adventure, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Intimacy, Slow Burn, Kissing, Cuddling, Love Triangle, Threesome (in later chapter), Slow-Build Romance
Tags Part 2: @thoughts-of-bear @artemisofmars
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-Current Day-
The palace days are long, and your duties never truly end. Council meetings bleed into spellwork, which slides into training sessions and ward inspections. The weight of responsibility presses against your shoulders like iron chains, and yet in the middle of it all, Halsin is quietly present. Not commanding, not overbearing, just watching, listening, and steady.
You notice the little things first. The way he catches your hand as you stumble over a loose step in the council hall, how he observes the strain in your posture without comment, and how he always seems to sense when you need a quiet word or a break.
“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard,” he says one afternoon, as you linger over a pile of maps and ledgers, eyes tired from calculations and plans. “Even the strongest need to pause. You won’t accomplish more by wearing yourself down.”
You glance at him, heart tightening at the calm reassurance in his voice. “I… I just want to make sure everything is perfect,” you murmur, frustration coloring your tone.
“Perfection is a lie,” Halsin says softly. “Balance is what you should aim for. And you, Y/N, are more than capable. But even the capable must rest.”
The words wrap around you, grounding and soothing, and you feel a pull toward him — admiration, trust, something deeper, steadier than the storm of emotions Gale ignites in you.
And yet, Gale is always there, in your thoughts. His unexpected appearances in the council chambers, the heat in his gaze, the quiet intensity when he speaks to you. With him, your pulse races; with Halsin, it steadies. Both feelings exist in your chest, tangled and complicated.
One evening, after a particularly grueling session of ward management, Halsin walks with you through the palace gardens, the sun casting long golden shadows over the marble paths. He does not speak at first, letting the silence settle around you both. Finally, he says, “You’ve been quieter than usual. Carrying too much, perhaps?”
You bite your lip, hesitation prickling in your chest. “I… I don’t know,” you admit, looking away. “Everything feels… tangled.”
He nods, slow, patient. “It’s a lot to manage — the court, the council, the expectations. You carry more than most would.”
And yet, it’s not just the weight of duty that presses on you. It’s the thought of Gale, of the way your chest still tightens when he’s near, the memory of the garden, the stolen glance, the warmth of his hand. But now, standing beside Halsin, there’s another pull, quieter, steadier, a comfort that makes your heart beat differently.
You glance at him, unsure. “It’s… confusing,” you confess softly. “I care about someone else… but then there’s you, and—” Your voice falters.
Halsin’s expression softens, eyes thoughtful. “You feel loyalty, friendship, admiration… perhaps more,” he says carefully, as if treading on fragile ground. “It doesn’t make one feel less than another. Feelings are not always convenient, nor are they always simple.” Halsin’s expression softens. “Feelings are rarely simple,” he says. “You may care for more than one person, each in a different way. That doesn’t make either feeling wrong, only complicated if you make it complicated. You do not have to resolve it all at once.”
You swallow hard, the weight of his words settling into the deepest parts of you. For the first time, you allow yourself to acknowledge both the fire for Gale and the warmth for Halsin. You let yourself feel both, without shame, without guilt, without fear of judgment.
Days pass like this, small moments building up: Halsin offering guidance in court, reminding you to take a break, standing silently by your side during tense negotiations. Gale’s presence in contrast — fiery, magnetic, unpredictable — makes your chest ache with longing. You realize the depth of your feelings for both, but in different ways: one steady and comforting, the other passionate and consuming.
Late one night, after hours of planning and council work, you find yourself wandering the gardens again, Halsin following quietly. The moon is high, silvering the leaves and glinting in the fountain’s waters. You stop at its edge, drawing a deep breath.
“I… I need to tell you something,” you begin, voice trembling but firm. “I think… I’m starting to feel something for you. It’s… steady, reassuring, and I can’t ignore it. But-”
Halsin steps closer, hand brushing gently along your shoulder. “You are human,” he says softly. “And the heart does not always follow simple rules. And your feelings for me do not diminish one another. They are what they are, and you must allow yourself to feel them fully before you make any decisions.”
You nod, tears welling in your eyes, chest tight with conflicting emotions. “It’s… so much to carry,” you whisper. “I don’t know how to balance it all, how to keep from hurting anyone.”
Halsin shakes his head gently, eyes kind. “Balance does not mean perfection, Y/N. It means surviving while remaining true to yourself. Do not carry the weight of their hearts. Only your own. That is enough for now.”
The night grows quiet, the palace fading behind you. You take a deep breath, letting your heart pulse with the truth: Gale is where your desire burns, Halsin is where your trust and admiration root, and both are part of who you are.
And you’re still scared. Maybe it's time to let go.
Characters: Gale, Halsin, Original Female Character (Y/N)
Words: 21K (all together!)
Warnings: Injury, Panic/Anxiety, Emotional Stress, Coerced Marriage, Blood, Strong Language, NSFW IN THIS CHAPTER!!!
Tags: Romance, Fantasy, Royalty AU, Marriage of Convenience, Political Intrigue, Action/Adventure, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Intimacy, Slow Burn, Kissing, Cuddling, Love Triangle, Threesome (in later chapter), Slow-Build Romance
NSFW Tags: Creampie (Plz be safe!!), Outdoor fun
Tags Part 2: @thoughts-of-bear @artemisofmars
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The palace does not erupt into crisis all at once.
It fractures quietly at first; through glances held too long, doors closed a little too firmly, guards reassigned without explanation. You feel it before anyone names it, a tightening beneath the polished routines of court life, like a breath held for too long.
By the third day since the southern delegates halted the trade corridor, the rumors begin.
At first, they are small. Servants whisper that caravans have gone missing. A scribe mentions, too casually, that the druidic factions are “unhappy.” A junior councilor avoids your gaze entirely during a briefing.
Halsin notices everything.
He does not comment on the rumors at first; he only adjusts to ensure that everything falls into place. He walks closer to you in the halls, positions himself subtly between you and strangers, and speaks less in public but more in private. Where others react with agitation, he becomes still.
It unsettles you how much you rely on that steadiness.
“You should not walk alone today,” he says one morning as you prepare to leave your chambers.
“I haven’t in weeks,” you reply lightly.
His gaze sharpens. “Today especially.”
You hesitate, then nod. Not wanting to put up a fight.
The council chamber is tense when you arrive. Delegates argue in tight circles, voices clipped, tempers fraying. The issue is no longer just trade; it is authority. The southern faction has rejected inspection outright, claiming “religious sovereignty” under old accords.
“They are daring us to respond,” one councilor snaps.
“And if we do?” another counters. “We turn this into a war of legitimacy.”
You raise a hand, quieting the room. “We do not escalate,” you say evenly. “We document. We isolate. We make it impossible for them to claim innocence.”
Some nod. Others bristle.
When the session ends, you feel the eyes on you as you stand — assessing, weighing, deciding whether you are liability or leverage.
You do not miss the way a few whispers follow you into the corridor.
Halsin walks beside you, his presence grounding. “They are afraid,” he murmurs. “Fear breeds rumor.”
“And knives,” you say quietly.
He does not deny it.
The attack does not come when you expect it.
It happens at dusk, as the palace shifts into evening rhythms — guards rotating, courtiers retreating to private dinners, the halls briefly less crowded.
You are crossing the western gallery with Halsin, discussing the next day’s negotiations, when the wards flicker.
It is subtle — a ripple through the air, like heat distortion. Halsin feels it at the same moment you do.
“Down,” he says sharply.
You barely have time to react before he grips your arm and pulls you hard against the wall. Something whistles past where your head had been — fast, silent, deadly.
A bolt embeds itself in the stone behind you.
For a heartbeat, the world freezes.
Then chaos erupts.
Guards shout. Steel rings. Halsin moves in front of you fully now, one hand braced against the wall near your shoulder, the other already glowing faintly with druidic magic.
“Stay behind me,” he orders.
Another projectile comes — this one deflected midair by a burst of force as Halsin snaps his hand forward. The impact rattles the gallery, sending shards of stone skittering across the floor.
The attacker never reaches you.
They are caught trying to flee through a servant’s passage — subdued, restrained, alive.
Barely.
When it is over, your hands are shaking.
Not from fear — from the sudden, bone-deep understanding that this is no longer theoretical. Someone wanted you dead.
Halsin does not let go of you until you are safely inside a guarded chamber.
“You’re hurt,” you say hoarsely, noticing the tear in his sleeve, the thin line of blood along his forearm.
“It’s nothing,” he replies, though he allows you to guide him to a chair.
You tear fabric for a bandage with unsteady fingers. “You threw yourself in front of me.”
“Yes.”
“That wasn’t—”
“Debatable?” he finishes quietly. “I disagree.”
The room is silent except for your breathing.
“Who?” you ask.
“Not acting alone,” he says. “And not impulsive. That was planned.”
The implication hangs heavy between you.
By morning, the palace is buzzing.
The attempt is officially framed as an “isolated extremist action,” but no one believes that. The whispers turn sharper, more dangerous.
Some say the southern faction sanctioned it. Others suggest internal dissent — that you are being punished for refusing escalation. A few, more venomous voices, murmur that perhaps the council would be safer without you.
And then the rumors shift.
They start mentioning Halsin.
How often is he seen at your side? How he speaks for you in council. How he escorted you personally after the attack.
“You’re being protected by a druid,” one noble remarks too loudly. “Interesting choice.”
Another smiles thinly. “Or perhaps the druid is the one pulling the strings.”
You hear it all.
Halsin hears more.
He confronts you that evening, not with anger, but concern.
“This is becoming dangerous,” he says. “Not just physically. Politically as well. I worry for you.”
“I won’t distance myself from you because of gossip,” you reply.
“I know,” he says softly. “But they will weaponize perception. They always do.”
You exhale slowly. “So what do we do?”
He considers. “We remain transparent. Visible. Yet still keep it professional.”
There is a pause.
“And?” you prompt.
“And we are careful,” he adds. “Because proximity invites interpretation.”
The words sting more than you expect.
That night, sleep refuses to come.
You lie awake replaying the bolt embedding itself in stone, the sound of Halsin’s voice cutting through the moment, the warmth of his hand steadying you afterward.
By dawn, a decision settles in your chest — quiet, resolute.
You will not be afraid.
The next few days are a test of endurance.
You attend councils flanked by guards, your movements carefully planned. You speak with measured authority, refusing to retreat or overcompensate. Halsin remains at your side, a constant presence — calm, attentive, never possessive.
The rumors grow anyway.
They twist his concern into influence, his protection into manipulation. You hear one delegate suggest you are being “guided.” Another wonders aloud if the druids intend to claim political ground through you.
You shut that down publicly.
“If anyone questions my authority,” you say coolly during a session, “they may address me directly. Not my allies. Not my advisors. Me.”
The room goes silent.
Later, Halsin finds you alone in the garden.
The lanterns glow low among the trees, their light soft and unintrusive, as if even the palace is afraid to intrude on your thoughts. You stand in the gazebo, near the fountain, hands braced against cool stone, breathing slowly as if each breath must be chosen.
“That was risky,” Halsin says quietly from behind you.
You don’t turn. “So was trying to kill me.”
For a moment, there is only the sound of water and night insects. Then a faint, tired smile enters his voice. “Fair.”
He comes to stand beside you, not too close, not too far. The space he leaves feels intentional — respectful. It almost hurts.
You begin walking without looking at him, following the familiar path beneath the trees. Gravel crunches softly underfoot. The palace noise fades with each step, until it feels like the world has narrowed to just the two of you and the weight sitting in your chest.
For the first time since the attack, your shoulders sag.
“I don’t regret this,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “Your presence. Whatever they say about it.”
Halsin stops.
The sudden absence of his footsteps makes you turn.
“You should,” he says gently. Not unkindly. Not accusingly. Just honest. “It would make things simpler. For you.”
You let out a breath that’s almost a laugh, sharp and brittle. “I don’t want simple,” you say. Then, more quietly, “I don’t think I can survive on simple.”
Something in your voice breaks the careful distance he’s been keeping.
“You don’t need me here,” he says, softer now. “You could ask me to step back. I would.”
The words hit harder than you expect.
“I know,” you say. Your throat tightens. “That’s the problem.”
You turn away again, hands curling into fists at your sides. “Everyone keeps deciding what’s best for me. The council. The factions. The people who thought putting a blade through my skull would solve their problems.” Your voice trembles despite your effort to steady it. “I don’t need another person choosing for me.”
Halsin doesn’t interrupt. He never does.
“I don’t want you here,” you say, the words tasting like a lie even as you force them out. “I don’t need the rumors. I don’t need the complications. I don’t need—”
Your voice falters.
“I’m so tired,” you whisper.
The silence that follows is heavy, pressing in around your ribs.
Halsin steps closer — slowly, as if giving you every chance to pull away. When he speaks, his voice is low, grounding. “Then don’t be strong right now.”
You swallow hard, the dam cracking. “I don’t know how to do this alone anymore.”
That’s when you turn to him.
Your eyes are bright, your composure fractured beyond repair. You look at him not as a ruler, not as a negotiator, not as a symbol, but as a man who has seen you at your most vulnerable and stayed anyway.
“I don’t need you to fix this,” you say, almost pleading. “I don’t need you to stay. I just—” Your breath shudders. “Gods, Halsin, I just need to feel like I’m not going to break.”
He doesn’t hesitate.
His hands come up gently, cupping your face with reverence, thumbs warm against your skin. He waits, eyes searching yours, asking permission without words.
You answer by leaning into him.
The kiss is not careful.
It’s soft, yes, but it’s also desperate, grounding, like grabbing onto something solid in the middle of a storm. Your lips press against his with a quiet urgency, as if you’re asking him to anchor you to the present, to your own body, to something real.
Halsin exhales against your mouth, a low sound that vibrates through you, and kisses you back steady, unhurried, as though he’s trying to pour calm into you through sheer will. His hands remain gentle, firm at your jaw, his presence surrounding rather than consuming.
When you finally pull back, your forehead rests against his.
“I- I’m sorry, Halsin, I didn’t mean for that to happen,” you whisper.
“I know,” he murmurs. “And yet… it did,” he chuckles, hoisting you up like you weigh nothing, placing you down on the cool marble bench, “I know it’s not your usual decorum, but we have no time for removing clothes, as much as I would love to rip them off of you, if you don’t mind.” Halsin growls. He hoists your leg straight in the air with one large hand (“have his hands always been this big?” You thought to yourself), ankle held between his proud fingers. Then, with the other hand, he yanks both yours and his underwear up and off in one swift movement. Pre cum already dripping from his cock.
You gasp and have little time to process before you realize that Halsin is on top of you, your legs are now wrapped around his waist as he aligns himself, pumping his cock using the pre cum, then rubs whatever is left on your hole. “Now, my little fawn,” He instructs, as he slowly starts to prod your tight, wet entrance with his massive cockhead “I need you to breathe deeply for me, and try not to wake anyone up.” He coos, a little hesitant to use the term of endearment. As he slowly started inserting his cock into Y/N, they both moaned. As you try to find your grip by grabbing onto Halsin’s forearm and the bench. Just the two of you against the whole world. Halsin moved his hips back and pressed forward again. Starting in a slow, steady rhythm. It feels magical and absolutely perfect. As you slowly feel a tightness in your stomach, you manage to grab onto the back of his head and pull him in for a deep kiss.
Tongues melding, gasping breaths, hearts both racing. Everywhere they seemed to touch seemed to leave a burning trail across both of you. But even then, it doesn't feel like it is enough. His hips speed up, as the slapping of your tight womb, He knew that he was close to the finish line. You seem to notice this, and with a grin, you whisper in his ear, “Just lose control, Halsin, please. It’s alright.”
And that does it.
As Halsin’s hold on your hips tightens in an affectionate squeeze before lifting your legs even higher, folding you into a half mating press, driving into you deep. Swallowing your cries with his own lips. With every knock of his hips against your own, mixed with the squelching of your pussy sucking him in. You were on fire in the best of ways.
Soon enough, your clit was met with the unexpected pressure of Halsin’s fingertips. That breath you have been holding onto was almost immediately followed by a cry of his name and drool from the kiss, igniting the stimulation to your greedy cunt to clench and pulse around him. Your vision goes white as Halsin reaches his own climax, while ropes of creamy seed deep into your pussy.
—
Brows knitting together, you squirm and struggle to sit up, watching as Halsin grabs a washcloth from his bag, walks over to the fountain, and gently wipes the sweat from your brow and the slick from your inner thighs, brushing your hair away from your face. “Shh, shh. Just sit still for a moment longer, alright? Let me get you cleaned up.” There’s a soft stillness between the two of you, before the silence breaks. “How are you feeling now?” he asked softly. “I hope I didn't overwhelm you too much.” You giggle, “I’m... I’m ok being overwhelmed if it's like that,” you tell him breathlessly.
He laughs, “I’ll make sure to add more of this during our time together.” He sighed and winked.
Characters: Gale, Halsin, Original Female Character (Y/N)
Words: 21K (all together!)
Warnings: Injury, Panic/Anxiety, Emotional Stress, Coerced Marriage, Blood, Strong Language
Tags: Romance, Fantasy, Royalty AU, Marriage of Convenience, Political Intrigue, Action/Adventure, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Intimacy, Slow Burn, Kissing, Cuddling, Love Triangle, Threesome (in later chapter), Slow-Build Romance
Tags Part 2: @thoughts-of-bear @artemisofmars
Masterlist Prev. Chapter Next Chapter
-Flashback-
Time had a strange way of folding in the palace. Weeks became months, and yet some nights; the quiet ones in particular, the rare moments when the court slept felt suspended, as if Candlekeep and its moonlit observatory were still just a heartbeat away.
Gale had been summoned to your court some months after your return from Candlekeep. Officially, he was here to advise on arcane matters: warding, treaty negotiations, and magical threats to the crown. Unofficially, you suspected neither of you could ignore the pull that had begun to stir beneath polite conversation and careful councils.
The first weeks were a study in restraint. Every meeting, every exchange of papers or glances, was a battle. He sat beside you at council tables, his dark eyes following your every gesture, correcting sigils you’d only half-finished, debating spells that might protect the palace from invisible threats. You respected his knowledge, valued his insight — but the familiarity, the intimacy, and the lingering echoes of that night in the palace garden made every interaction a careful dance.
“You shouldn’t be standing so close to the ward glyph,” he murmured one afternoon, leaning over a rolled parchment. “A misstep could… well. You know.” You glanced up at him, lips twitching in amusement. “Do I? Or are you simply concerned for me?” His eyes held yours for a heartbeat longer than necessary. “A little of both,” he admitted, voice low. You suppressed a sigh, though your heart raced. He was impossible, infuriating, and impossibly magnetic — and now, he was working within arm’s reach every day.
The court was its own battlefield. Alliances formed and shifted with whispered words, nobles calculated every glance, and diplomats smiled while plotting. Amidst it all, you had to project strength: the heir, the leader, the battlemage who could hold a sword and channel a spell with equal ease. Gale moved within this world with uncanny ease. He knew the language of nobles, of magic, of quiet influence. And yet, around you, he became… human. Vulnerable, earnest, aware of the tension he could no longer ignore.
One evening, after hours spent drafting protective wards around the city gates, he lingered behind as you walked back to your chambers. “You’re late,” you said lightly, trying to keep the edge of fatigue from your voice. “I was making sure nothing destabilized during the enchantments,” he said, but his tone was softer than his words. “I should have called it a night.”You glanced at him, noting the faint shadow beneath his eyes, the way he exhaled slowly as if the effort of restraint was exhausting him. “Gale…” you began, but paused. The court demanded professionalism. The city demanded attention. And yet, there was that other pull — the one that had begun months ago, moonlit and quiet. “I’m aware,” he said before you could finish. “And yet… I can’t leave this unsaid.” You stopped in the hall, eyes meeting his. For a heartbeat, the world contracted to the space between you. “I…” you started, then let the words fall away. The truth was dangerous. Forbidden. Beautiful. And neither of you was ready. Instead, you nodded once, lightly. “We’ll talk… later.” He studied you, lips parted, the faintest shadow of longing in his eyes. “Later,” he agreed, though the word sounded like a promise — one neither of you could yet fulfill.
During these weeks, memory bled through — Candlekeep’s quiet nights, the observatory, the first shared arguments about magic, the moonlit gardens. Each recollection made restraint harder, each shared moment in court sharper. Every corrected sigil, every hushed warning, every accidental brush of hands carried weight. You both knew that the court was not a place for indulgence, yet the pull between you simmered, undeniable.
The stakes were high for the crown, for the city, for the fragile peace that held the realm together. But beneath all that duty, both of you were learning to navigate something far more dangerous: the desire to reach for each other when every rule demanded restraint. And in the quiet moments — when courtiers’ laughter faded, and candlelight flickered low — you each wondered how long you could wait.
- Timeskip -
The palace was alive with music, laughter, and the glow of countless candles. Tonight was a celebration — an official acknowledgment of your leadership, your victories, and the delicate balance you had maintained between crown and court. You moved through the ballroom with a practiced smile, acknowledging nobles and emissaries, but Gale noticed a subtle shift in your posture, a faint tension in your shoulders, a slight pause in your movements. Even from across the room, he could tell: you needed air.
When your gaze drifted toward the balcony doors, he moved before you could speak, stepping to your side. “You need a moment,” he said quietly, voice low, almost conspiratorial. “The palace can wait. Come with me.” You hesitated, aware of the courtly eyes that might notice, but the pull in his tone — concern, attentiveness, patience — was irresistible. You nodded, letting him guide you through the heavy wooden doors into the night.
The garden greeted you like a breath of cool night air. Marble paths gleamed in the moonlight, fountains sparkled like liquid silver, and the scent of roses and jasmine clung to the warm breeze. Every detail was vivid; yet, for Gale, nothing mattered except you. He saw the faint relaxation in your shoulders, the way your hands hovered over the fountain’s edge as though grounding yourself, and he realized just how much he wanted to keep you safe, keep you calm, keep you.
Your dress shimmered under the moonlight — midnight blue silk that rippled with each step, delicate but strong, just like you. He couldn’t stop himself from noticing the way the neckline caught the soft glow, the pendant at your throat, the subtle elegance that made you radiant without effort.
“I needed a moment to breathe,” you murmured, letting your hands rest lightly on the fountain’s edge.
“You always notice everything,” he said softly, stepping closer. “Even when you think you’re hiding it.”
You tilted your head, studying him. “I suppose the observatory taught you to read more than runes.”
He smiled faintly, dark eyes lingering on you. “I read people better than any spell,” he admitted, voice low. “And you… You needed air.”
The statement hung between you, intimate and undeniable. For a moment, you didn’t answer, letting the silence and the moonlight carry the weight of unspoken words.
Then he offered his arm, and you accepted. The brush of his sleeve against yours quickened your pulse. Together, you wandered along the marble paths, the tension between you unspoken but electric. Every step, every shared glance, every accidental contact was a reminder of months of restraint, of longing held back in Candlekeep, in councils, and in quiet observatories.
Finally, you stopped beneath a canopy of flowering vines, the pale petals glowing in the moonlight. He stood close, warm and steady, and his gaze traced your face with a careful reverence.
“I can’t pretend this… tension doesn’t exist anymore,” he admitted, voice low. “Not with you. Not tonight.”
Your breath caught. Words about duty, crown, and restraint threatened to spill, but the pull between you was too strong.
Instead, you let your eyes meet his, and the world outside the garden — the court, the music, the celebration; it all just fell away.
He stepped closer, the faint scent of jasmine and the night air mingling with the subtle warmth of his robes. Your heart hammered, a frantic rhythm against the quiet of the moonlit garden.
“I’ve tried to respect your position,” he whispered, voice low, intimate. “I tried to wait. I tried to be patient.”
“And yet,” you whispered back, almost trembling, “you didn’t wait.”
Gale’s eyes darkened with something deeper than admiration — desire tempered with reverence. He let his hand hover near your face for a heartbeat, giving you space to retreat. You didn’t. Instead, you leaned slightly into him, as if answering the silent question lingering in his gaze.
Then he closed the distance. His lips brushed yours lightly at first, almost a whisper of touch. The moment was delicate, tentative — testing boundaries, asking permission without words.
You responded, leaning in, letting your lips mold against his. The world narrowed to the sound of your own breath, the faint trickle of the fountain beside you, the warmth radiating from him. Every careful restraint of months, every stolen glance and brush of hands, coalesced in this single, suspended moment.
The kiss deepened naturally, slow and deliberate. Gale’s hands found your waist, holding you close without pressing, grounding you while letting you feel free. Your fingers traced the line of his shoulders, memorizing the warmth, the steadiness beneath the fabric of his robes.
Magic seemed to hum faintly around you, the air charged with the faint pulse that always accompanied your presence. He could feel it, subtle but insistent, intertwining with the heat of the kiss, making it feel otherworldly yet intimate.
Gale’s lips moved with care, conveying months of unspoken words: respect, admiration, longing. You returned it, pouring into him everything you hadn’t allowed yourself to express in Candlekeep, in observatories, in council chambers.
Time stretched. Minutes could have been hours. You rested your forehead against his when the kiss softened, breathing mingling, hearts racing in unison.
“You’re… incredible,” he murmured against your lips, voice rough with emotion. “I’ve never… felt anything like this.”
You smiled softly, letting your hands linger on his chest. “Neither have I,” you admitted. “And yet… here we are.”
You could have sworn you heard Gale growl as he pulled you in for another kiss; this time, it was filled with this hunger he couldn't satisfy. As he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, he pins you to the closest wall, separating from the kiss to begin nipping and biting at your neck.
Gale pressed his forehead to yours again, eyes closed, savoring the quiet after the storm. “We should probably return,” he whispered reluctantly, the weight of court and duty intruding.
“Yes,” you agreed softly, though neither of you truly wanted to move. “Duty calls.”
He allowed a small, intimate smile to tug at his lips. “And yet,” he murmured, a promise threading through the words, “I’ll find another moment. Soon.” As he placed another kiss on your forehead.
As you both walked back to the ballroom, side by side, the memory of the kiss, soft, reverent, and fierce all at once, lingered, a tether connecting you no matter the rules, the duties, or the courtly expectations.
Characters: Gale, Halsin, Original Female Character (Y/N)
Words: 21K (all together!)
Warnings: Injury, Panic/Anxiety, Emotional Stress, Coerced Marriage, Blood, Strong Language
Tags: Romance, Fantasy, Royalty AU, Marriage of Convenience, Political Intrigue, Action/Adventure, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Intimacy, Slow Burn, Kissing, Cuddling, Love Triangle, Threesome (in later chapter), Slow-Build Romance
Tags Part 2: @thoughts-of-bear @artemisofmars
Masterlist Prev. Chapter Next Chapter
Candlekeep smelled of ink, old stone, and the faint crackle of contained magic. You remember thinking, distantly, that it felt alive – not like a building, but more so like a mind. Vast. Watchful. Curious. Beautiful.
You were twenty-six, freshly arrived as royal envoy under the polite fiction of “advanced study,” and already painfully aware of every whisper that followed you through the halls.
The human heir.
The one who fights.
Too young to carry that much power.
You always ignored them.
The reading chamber was nearly empty when you entered, sunlight slanting through high windows and catching motes of dust in the air. Shelves towered overhead, stacked with spell tomes you had only ever heard named in passing. You crossed the stone floor with measured steps, books tucked beneath your arm as your mind reels from the ward theory you’d been assigned to review.
However; you didn’t expect the company.
“Excuse me.”
The voice was precise. Cultured. Annoyingly confident.
You turned to find someone half-hidden behind a lectern, dark hair falling into clever eyes, robes marked with sigils of senior study. He looked young – only a few years older than you; yet carried himself like someone used to being listened to. “Yes?” you said. “You’re sitting in my place.”
You glance around. Then back at him. “I don’t see your name carved into the stone.” You can see a corner of his mouth twitched. “If it were, I’d never get any work done.” You raised a brow. “Then perhaps you should choose a less public throne.”
A pause. Then; much to your irritation, he smiled. “Gale Dekarios,” he said, inclining his head just enough to be polite without being deferential. “And you are…not from here.”
“Is it that obvious?” “Painfully.”
You sat down anyway as he watched you for a moment longer, gaze sharp as he assessed you “You hold your staff like a weapon,” he observed. “Most grip theirs like a crutch you kn-.” You interrupt him “I’ve found it useful to know the difference.” That earned you a soft huff of laughter. “Ah. You’re that kind of mage.” You nod, completely ignoring the fact that he is now leaned in closer. “I prefer battlemage,” you said evenly. “But yes, you are correct.” He blinked, just once. The surprise on his face quickly became masked. “A human battlemage,” he said. “At Candlekeep?” You lean back in your chair, sighing as you turn to face him. “Is that meant to discourage me?” “No,” he admitted. “Mearely to intrigue.”
It is now your turn to study him – the ink-smudged fingers, the faint magical hum around him like a restrained storm. You can tell he’s smart. Brilliant even, but careless with his confidence. Making him dangerous in a quieter way than most.
“Then consider yourself intrigued,” you said, setting down a book and opening it to the right chapter needed. “And find another chair.”
—-- break —-
You did not become friends immediately. The two of you argued. Constantly and about everything. Spell theory, ethics, the cost of true power, and whether magic existed to be mastered or respected.
Gale was brilliant – infuriatingly so. He spoke of the Weave like a lover who had never been told no. You on the other hand countered with hard-earned discipline, stories of battlefields and scars he could not refute.
“You treat magic like a blade,” Gale accused one evening, frustration finally bleeding through his careful composure. “Something to be sheathed, drawn, controlled. As it exists only to be used.” You closed the book in front of you, slower than necessary. Candlelight flickered across the margins, catching scars along your knuckles you rarely noticed anymore. “And you treat it like a god,” you shot back. “Please indulge me in which one bleeds first, the god or the animal?”
He stared at you, jaw tightened before he spoke “The Weave is not a wild animal.”
“No,” you agreed quietly. “It’s worse.”
He blinked. “Worse?”
You leaned back, gaze drifting towards the high windows – not looking at Candlekeep now, but somewhere just out of reach. “I watched a battlemage lose control when I was twenty-two,” you said. “Not an apprentice. A decorated officer of my court. He reached far too much power too fast, and the Weave answered him…imperfectly.”
Gale didn’t interrupt.
“The spell that was casted didn’t just fail. It folded. Burned half a company alive. My father and the rest of the company spent hours digging survivors out of glassed earth. He didn’t realize I watched from the sidelines tending to the wounded.” Silence settled between you both like an unwanted guest. “I don’t fear magic,” you said at last. “What I fear most is arrogance. I fear forgetting that power takes payment – even when you don’t know the cost upfront.”
Gale looked at you differently now. Less amused, and certainly less defensive.
“You’ve seen war,” he said.
“I helped and fought in it.”
Suddenly, almost like the Weave had plans for you both, his mind shifted from seeing you as an annoying princess, to one who should be respected.
As Gale exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair he spoke softly. “I’ve spent my life trying to understand how much magic I can take without breaking,” he admitted. “I never thought much about who else might break with me.”
You chuckle, “Maybe that’s why we argue so much about this.”
A pause, then a chuckle from him “....And maybe that’s why I think I’m better for it.”
For a while, neither of you spoke. Candlekeep had a way of pressing silence into something heavy – the kind that wasn’t awkward, but thoughtful. As the candle burned lower, somewhere in the stacks, a page turned. Life went on. Gale broke the quiet first, his voice softer than before. “You know, you make it difficult to argue with you.” You glanced up. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” “It is,” he said. “Inconveniently so.” The corners of your mouth curved despite yourself.
He gathered his notes, slower than usual as his eyes lingered on the margins you’d corrected earlier. “There’s an observatory above the western wing,” he added, as if the thought had only just occurred to him. “They ley lines run unusually clean through it. I was going…to check my work.” You pause, and recognize the offer for what it truly is, not as an invitation but rather a shared escape. “As fun as that sounds I should return to my chambers,” you said, a slight hesitation in your voice. “Yes. Of course.” He said, before grinning “Unless you’d rather not.”
A smile formed on your face before you even realized it, you closed your book and stood. “Show me, Gale of Waterdeep”
—- Break —-
The stairway was narrow, spiraling upward into cooler air. Your footsteps echoed softly as the noise of the lower halls fell away. By the time you reached the top, Candlekeep felt distant – like a memory rather than a place.
The observatory was quiet and open, domed ceiling drawn back to reveal the night sky. Stars spilled overhead, bright and sharp, untroubled by the weight of walls or crowns. Gale crossed the room, adjusting a lens with practiced care. “I come here when my thoughts grow.. loud,” he said. You approached the window, resting your hands on the stone ledge. “I walk the battlements for the same reason.” That earned a small smile. For a time, you simply stood together, watching the stars. No lectures, No defenses raised, Just the slow, steady rhythm of shared presence.
It was then in this stillness, that you both felt a feeling of understanding for one another.
Characters: Gale, Halsin, Original Female Character (Y/N)
Words: 21K (all together!)
Warnings: Injury, Panic/Anxiety, Emotional Stress, Coerced Marriage, Blood, Strong Language
Tags: Romance, Fantasy, Royalty AU, Marriage of Convenience, Political Intrigue, Action/Adventure, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Intimacy, Slow Burn, Kissing, Cuddling, Love Triangle, Threesome (in later chapter), Slow-Build Romance
Tags Part 2: @thoughts-of-bear @artemisofmars
Masterlist Next Chapter
Goblin Camp; approximately 2AM
The goblin camp stank of smoke, rote, and careless cruelty. You crouch at the edge of the ravine, fingers pressed to the damp earth as she felt the faint thrum of magic beneath the soil. The land here was wounded and angry, but filled with stories that would take a lifetime to unravel. Bruised by iron boots and blood spilled without hesitation. You breathed in slowly, centring yourself. These hands – your human hands and mortal bones feel the soft grass and rough dirt beneath them; but the Weave answered you all the same. “Cages,” one of your companions whispered. “He’s in the center of the camp.” You nodded, already rising to your feet. Your dark purple cloak fell back, revealing the narrow line of steel at your hip – a spellblade with runes faintly glowing as your magic bled into it. Although you did not draw it yet. You rarely did first. The magic that you possess came easier and faster yes, but the steel was for when things got a little too close. They always tend to.
As you stepped into the open and the air shifted immediately, pressure rolling outward like the warning before a storm as goblin laughter faltered. Torchlight caught the sigil working into your armor. “Release him,” you said, voice calm, steady, trained from years of commanding the team. Not loud, It didn’t need to be. And for a heartbeat, no one moved.
“Now” you say, holding position, eager to get things going. A goblin snorted. “How cute, Pretty thing thinks she’s scary.” and laughter filled the crisp air. You smirked as you lifted your hand. The ground beneath the nearest torch split open with a crack like thunder. Roots burst upward, thick and furious, snaring ankles and the sound of crushing wood and bones sounding like a symphony of pain. Screams soon followed as Steel rang and clanged against one another.
Then, finally you moved. Magic flared along your arm as you surged forward, controlled fire arcing from your palm in a right, disciplined sweep – not wild destruction, but pure precision. A goblin rushed towards you, blade raised. You drew your sword in one smooth motion; the enchantment sang.You met the goblin head-on as blade catching steel as a shield bloomed at your forearm, the impact rattling up your bones. You twisted, stepped inside his guard, and ended the fight cleanly. Looking around you, the camp collapsed into chaos in slow motion; but you did not revel in it. You had been trained better than that. You know how to fight like someone who knew the cost – who had bled in mud alongside soldiers who would never be remembered. You, Y/N, A princess, yes, the heir to the throne. But also a battlemage who did not command from the rear. When the last goblin fell, the hushed silence rushed in –thick and ringing in your ears. You turned toward the cages.
The druid slumped inside was massive, even hunched over, shoulders bowed with hair matted with blood. He stirred as you approached, lifting his head with effort. His eyes found yours and sharpened. You kneel, sheathing your blade before touching the lock while the rest of the group unlock other harmless animals and creatures that were unfortunate to be caught in goblin traps. Magic slid into the mechanism, gentle now, coaxing rather than forcing. The door swung open with a soft click. “You’re safe,’ you said quietly. “I swear it.” He collapsed forward, but due to your quick reflexes you caught him without thinking, bracing your stance as his weight hit you. Heavy. Solid. Alive.
Later, at camp
Green light bloomed beneath your hands as you murmured a healing incantation. The bruises faded. Torn flesh knit. He gasped, dragging in the air like a man breaking the surface of water. “By the Oak Father…” he rasped. You eased him upright. “Can you stand?” “Yes,” he said immediately, waving your hand away – to only waver and lay back down on the ground. You smile faintly. “Later, then. Let me continue…please.” He nodded, watching you openly work, not with hunger or any entitlement. But with awe.
“My name is Halsin,” he said at last. “Archdruid of the Emerald Grove.” You incline your head “I know,” you reply, “you’ve been missed.” His brow rose. “Then you know I am in your debt.” You shook your head once. “No that is not needed,” you pause. “No one deserves a cage.” When you finally helped him to his feet, he stood slowly as something in him shifted. As though the forest itself had just spoken through a human mouth. His gaze lingered on you, you looked so grounded and unafraid. So mortal. “You carry yourself like royalty,” he observed quietly. “But you fight like someone who has bled.” You huffed a soft breath of laughter. “You know those things are not opposites.” Halsin studied you more closely, then with a grin said “ You are.. More than I expected.”
You didn’t ask him to explain.
—-------
The journey back was slow. Halsin leaned on his staff, refusing to be helped. You respected that as you walked beside him, matching his pace and keeping watch alongside your crew. By dusk, the story had already begun to drow.
Y/N L/N, A human heir. A battlemage who fought at the front lines. Halsin; the druid freed from chains by crown and spell alike.
When you returned to the capital, the council was waiting – faces grave, eyes sharp with calculation.
“The Emerald Grove is vital to our borders,” one elder said. “Peace with them would stabilize the region.”
You listened attentively as they spoke of treaties, of land and futures shaped like game boards. It wasn't until finally someone said the word they’d all been circling. “Marriage.” Your breath caught – just barely audible, "I'm sorry?” you say softly. “Marriage.” said another “To Halsin, A union of crown and grove.” You look down at your hands – still faintly stained with goblin blood, still warm with healing magic. You look to your parents, the current King and Queen of the realm. “Father, Mother..are you sure that this is-” “You have no say in the matter, if the elders decree it; so it must be.” your father spoke, voice echoing across the room. You pause, looking at your mother who has looked away as soft tears stream down her cheeks. “...Concider it done.” you said. Relief rippled through the chamber.
That night, alone in your rooms in your nightgown, calm after a hot shower. You stood at the window overlooking the palace gardens, moonlight silvering hedges and stone paths. A memory stirred.
A younger you.
A boy with starlight in his eyes and ink-stained fingers.
A kiss beneath the same exact stars – magic held so carefully it barely dared to breathe.
A sudden knock at the door forced you out of it, thankful for it before the ache could take root.
“Apologies, your highness, a letter delivered to you.” You smile, thank the guard before closing the door softly. As you look closely at the letter you realize that the handwriting looks familiar.
Your heart jumps to your throat. You turn the letter over and look at the seal, it also looks a little too familiar.
You gasp as you open the letter up, a little too eager for your own good.
“To Her Highness,
—or, if you will permit the indulgence,
To my dearest Y/N,
I trust this letter finds you in better circumstances than those I last imagined. Waterdeep has been..itself. Loud, brilliant, and utterly exhausting. I confess I have found myself thinking more often of quieter halls, of stone warmed by sunlight, and of conversations that did not end when duty called.
It has been some time since I last wrote. Longer still since we spoke. That absence was not born of indifference, though I fear it may have appeared so. I have learned, rather painfully, that some silences are chosen not because they are easy, but because they are survivable.
I am returning to court at the Council’s request. Officially, I am to advise on matters arcane and assist with warding the palace for the coming season. Unofficially – well. I suspect you know me well enough to guess that I do not return without reason.
There are things I never said to you. Things I told myself were better left unspoken, lest they demand answers neither of us were free to give. Time has not dulled them. If anything, it has given them sharper edges. If you will see me, I would welcome the chance to speak – properly, this time. If you will not, I understand. I have always understood more than I allowed myself to admit.
Until then, know this: I hope you are well. I hope you are safe. And I hope – perhaps selfishly – that when we meet again, you will remember me kindly.
Characters: Gale, Halsin, Original Female Character (Y/N)
Words: 21K
Warnings: Injury, Panic/Anxiety, Emotional Stress, Coerced Marriage, Blood, Strong Language
Tags: Romance, Fantasy, Royalty AU, Marriage of Convenience, Political Intrigue, Action/Adventure, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Intimacy, Slow Burn, Kissing, Cuddling, Love Triangle, Threesome (in later chapter), Slow-Build Romance
Author’s Note: This is a Baldur’s Gate 3 Royalty AU / Marriage of Convenience / Love Triangle fanfic. Features slow-burn romance, political intrigue, emotional intimacy, and a romantic/NSFW focus between Y/N, Gale, and Halsin. This is a fic that I made just for me; but if you wish to be part of the tags for when it updates; please let me know (I will be checking for ages!). This is my biggest fanfic to date!!
Tags Part 2: @thoughts-of-bear @artemisofmars
Masterlist
Fic will be updated every Friday! 5PM CST (and will be on A03 eventually)
