I'm back! Truth be told, I am having a crisis at the moment, a bit of an is this it kind of thing. I have been truly wanting to write, both for fun and a tad more seriously. So what better way than working on my favourite bg3 character to romance? Enjoy!
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Your lungs burned, your feet screamed, and you had lost count of how many blisters bubbled up in your worn shoes as you charged through the dense undergrowth of the feywild. How could you have been so stupid? The ale was far too sweet, and the eyes in the tavern watched you for too long. The realisation hit you like someone had doused you in icy cold water; you felt your magic seep out of your mind, trapping you in the swampy mire of your thoughts. You could stay and fight, but you knew you were not in any state to defend against three well-armed individuals. You ran.
You were a bounty hunter, the Sorcerer of Cormyr, alleged hero of Baldur's Gate. You thought you had escaped that last part of the title, leaving the past far enough behind to go unnoticed as you trekked through the Great Dale. But Bhaalists were cruel and incredibly persistent, and your killing of their chosen all those years ago had put you at the top of their hit list, encouraging the barkeep to slip the potion into your drink.
You believed that the label of the hero of Baldur’s Gate had become a distant memory. It had been two years since the final battle; you and your teammates had barely made it out alive. But with the Netherbrain destroyed and the dead three ashes in the wind, you had parted ways, meeting once at Withers’ reunion gathering and never again. You had thought about them from time to time, Gale cropping up most often in your musing, finding him in the smallest of things, a book, a stranger's laugh, hells, even smells had you wandering back to the times you both shared each other's company, body, and soul.
You dragged yourself out of your musings, focusing now on avoiding your pursuers, they were fast, but you were quicker, feet navigating the uneven earth with ease, magic be damned you were quick. They were heckling, whooping and howling foul phrases of the consequences that awaited you once they caught you. Visions and colours sprang to the edge of your sight, tunnel vision as the poison was relinquishing its hold on you.
Tack, tack, tack. The sharp sounds of small projectiles striking the trees punctuated the air around you. The trees were now becoming sparse, offering less and less cover. A sigh of relief almost escaped your lips as the relentless pursuit seemed to be nearing its end, but the ground abruptly vanished beneath your feet. You skidded to a jarring halt at the edge of what was now a sheer cliff face. Loose rocks tumbled over the edge as you desperately fought to regain your balance. You huffed in annoyance, realising that this wasn't a frantic chase; you had been herded. Arseholes
You had a choice: fight, you knew how, or pray to any god that would listen that you had the strength to transport away. You snapped your attention to the approaching Bhaalists, they spread out, cutting off immediate escape by land. “Time’s up, sparrow, you owe us a debt.” The larger orc pointed a well-manicured blade towards you, stepping forward with malice radiating in his bloodshot eyes.
A sorcerer always knew their way out, though, and if you were smart, you wouldn’t antagonise the three assassins; they had managed to get to you, they were well-trained professionals. This was do or die and it had been so long since you had been able to add some sparkle to your performances.
Holding yourself up to your full height, you smiled, eyes wide, doing everything to look as wild as possible. It was a standoff, neither moving; you could tell they were apprehensive, clearly the titles truly did still precede you. So you shrugged, “Is that all you have to say?” The archer in the back twitched, your eyes flicked between them and the orc with the blade, they had stepped forward again, too close. “My, I am disappointed.” You lowered your arms, false confidence filling your voice, “but,” you clap your hands together, “this has been fun, but I have places to be.” Opening your hands, you released a thunderwave, not sending them back, but sending you flying off the cliff face, all part of the rapidly growing plan, you hoped. It would have been amusing watching their faces had you not ejected yourself a little further than expected.
Now airborne, you needed a next step and fast, rapidly feeling gravity take effect as usual. Where were you going?
The ground was getting closer. Instead of fighting it, you closed your eyes, feeling the air rush past. Holding your hands out to the side, you quickly whispered that prayer to Ao and his merry band and pulled them in quickly. A sharp clap, and you vanished, uttering a one simple word.
You felt as though you were being screwed up tight and thrown unceremoniously towards a very small opening. The air stopped, you were floating for a while, mind spinning as you focused on that one name. Gale.
As soon as it had started, it stopped. Gravity worked again, and soon your ears were ringing, a shooting pain shuddering up your legs as you finally hit solid ground, landing impressively on your feet.
Vague shadows became shapes, which became people. Gasps erupted around you, followed by cries of surprise at your sudden and violent appearance in what you now realised was a classroom—specifically, a classroom at Blackstaff Academy.
"Y/N?" you heard a single voice call above the exclaimations of fifty or more students. Turning your head, you saw that it had worked; Gale was standing there, the book he had been reading now abandoned on the floor.
Trying to smile, you felt the exertion of the feat following a recent poisoning taking its toll. Vision swimming again, you reached for the ground, hearing starting to feel like your ears were stuffed with linen. His face was the last thing you saw before falling unconscious.
The fire in front of you flickered gently, the smell of the camp's recent meal had long since wafted to the breeze. You had joined the group about three days into the ship crash, you had been looking for something to do, and upon hearing the sounds of a fight emanating from the blighted village, you were more than willing to get stuck and help the companions, an unlikely group to be sure, but one you fit in with most comfortably.
Sipping slowly on the swill of one of the bottles Astarian had been taking from the druid's grove, you watched Gale as he regailed another rather outrageous tale that only seemed to grow in grandeur the more you laughed along with the group. Stolen glances were passed between the two of you, blush creeping up your neck and spreading across your cheeks as you realised he was the most interesting wizard you had ever met (and there weren’t many, you found them rather annoying to talk to). As people split off to go to bed and it was just the two of you sharing the rest of the bottle, the night took a turn for a time of comfort and more personal discussions of the past, present and the unsavoury looking future. Liquid courage had you sitting with your legs swung lazily over his, giving him your full attention, he spoke of Tara and his mother, with his thumb rubbing lazy circles into your thigh. It had been one of the most peaceful nights, when the consequences of what the orb lodged into his chest potentially meant for his future hadn’t yet been considered.
That was the night you realised the time you spent with him was precious, and how much leaving him behind had truly hurt.
The dream disintegrated as you slowly woke with a groan. Your head hurt, really badly, like kobolds were trying to pull your brain out. Whatever had been used in the poison had not been one you had experienced before.
Peeling your eyes open, you were greeted with a vaulted ceiling, dappled sunlight dancing across the ceiling. As your other senses started to come into focus, you became aware that you were in a bed, a large, comfy bed, it certainly wasn’t yours, you hadn’t had a place to call home since you were a child. The room smelled of sandalwood, of Gale. Relief flooded your veins as the reality sank in: you were in his room at Blackstaff, and you got away.
Adjusting yourself, you sat up, pushing the heel of your palms into your eyes to gently massage the pain, a desperate attempt to feel normal. Realising it wouldn’t work, you gave up, opting to stare at the room in front of you.
It was a beautiful room, not huge, but enough to house everything that reminded you of him. Tall arched windows cast a warm orange glow into the room, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were tucked away in an alcove, and a sofa was placed in front of a moderately sized fireplace, its mantel covered in trinkets he had collected over his travels. You sat for a while, eyes closed, letting the sun gently caress your face, the silence enveloping you. It was peaceful, save for the gentle crackle and pop of the fireplace.
The door opened, but you remained still, watching with rapt attention as the wizard rounded the corner. His dark brown eyes immediately locked onto yours, a flicker of concern crossing his face, noting your upright position. He brought over a tray, setting it down swiftly, his full attention now solely on you.
The bed sank as he sat down, turning to face you “You’re awake, gods, what a relief, how do you feel?” Gale raised his hand towards you, paused, then retracted it again. You watched the conflict dance across his face, but you made no move to show you saw it. Instead, you opted for a gentle nod, breaking the staring contest and looking over his shoulder at nothing in particular, “My head hurts, but I am well, thank you… For this,” you gestured to the bed you were in “its very kind”. A gentle expression spread across his face, turning to the tray, you watched him remove the lid of a bowl of soup, the thought of food immediately making your stomach growl.
“Of course, it would have been most rude of me leave an old travelling companion on the floor of my abjuration class, which…” he held up his hand stopping the apology before it could slip out of your mouth, “was almost finished with anyway, although it was the most excited I have seen my students for a while, it will be quite a task explaining who you are and why you ended up in my room.” He passed the tray with the soup over to you, letting it float in the air in front of you, gentle purple swirls wrapped neatly around each handle, keeping it level in front of you. Peering into the bowl, the rich creamy smell surrounded you, potato and leek, your favourite. Skimming a silver spoon across its surface, you looked up at Gale, who was still watching you. He knew this was your favourite, he had made it every time the ingredients were in camp. Of course he would remember.
“I would be a liar if I did not have my questions as to the reasons behind your sudden visit after two years, but,” he placed his hands on his thighs before rising, knees popping at the movement “for now, enjoy. I’ll be in my study if you need me.” He got up and left, the gentle sound of a door closing signalling your isolation.
Guilt ate at you with each mouthful of the soup; you hadn’t bothered to see him in years, and now here you were, being cared for by him like you hadn't been parted for long, like old friends, like travelling companions. You needed to apologise, and you would, but right after you slept, which didn’t take long to sweep you under as you buried yourself amongst the blankets.
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