A throwback to my old bandit days, I've written 2 drabbles in one day. This is extraordinary, but I've had a lot of inspiration. Tried my hand at Gale this go around. Thanks for reading!
Enjoy!
***
A clatter came from the direction of Gale’s office, but it wasn’t uncommon. The two of you each had a habit of making a bunch of rackets when the two of you were in your offices. He would be perfecting different spells and incantations, you were trying to brew new potions that sometimes went boom. Most of your adventuring days were behind you but you did admit to writing down the recipes of the ones that went boom—never knew when you or one of your long time friends might need it.
Another clatter, this time louder, came out and made you jump just as you were adding the last ingredient. Hesitantly you put it down and dampened the fire under the flask set before you turned to the door of your alchemy room.
Since your arrival in Waterdeep, the two of you had spent innumerous hours together getting to know each other while the world was not on the precipice of apocalypse. The separate offices had been your idea. It was good and healthy to have a place that was just your own. While there were no set in stone rules about going into each other’s spaces, both of you tried to respect the other’s privacy when you were in your offices.
However a flash of memories came to you of various people coming after you and the others. Loyalists to the Absolute who hadn’t been tadpoled before the final battle who were upset that they had lost the promise of power they’d once had.
Caution to the wind, you left your office and crossed the hallway to Gale’s office door. It was usually shut when he was working, but it was half opened which worried you more. A loud thud resounded and you quickly threw the door open.
Gale was squatting beside a gilded chest, both hands thrust inside. It was like no chest you’d ever seen; the opening seemed to glow with Gale’s magic and then disappear into a dark void. Just as you started to wonder if it was hurting him somehow, Gale pulled his hands out and tossed aside a golden cauldron.
“Don’t even know why I kept that,” he muttered as he thrust his hands back into the chest.
There were other items strewn beside him. A large picture frame with what seemed to be a painting of his parents, a small chest that had popped open and spilled out scrolls, a sterling silver plate with his family’s crest etched in the middle.
“What is the opposite of spring cleaning?”
Gale jumped at your voice, obviously having missed your entrance in the midst of him pulling out the cauldron.
“Autumnal cluttering, perhaps?” He grinned over at you and then frowned back at the chest. “The charm I had placed on this chest to work like a bag of holding has apparently gone awry. I can no longer just summon the item I want but need to fish for it in what feels like a never ending clutter.”
“Which has led you to throwing half the contents onto the floor.”
You stepped over a few glittering odds and ends. As you reached his side, he pulled out a clock that had diamonds encrusted on the face. He didn’t toss it to the side but gently placed it down before thrust his hands back into the chest.
“Is there something I can do to help you? Four hands are better than two,” you offered as you raised your hands and wiggled your fingers.
“No, no,” he said quickly with a shake of his head, “no, the magic is tied to me and though it has gone afoul, I do not want to think what might happen if you put your hands in—AHA!”
With a yank, Gale was sent backwards onto his rear. Clutched in his hands was a small leather box. He laughed as he looked down at it, his fingers delicately rubbing against the leather.
“Found what you were looking for?”
Gale’s eyes snapped up to you and you saw a whirlwind of emotion cross his features. Then he simply laughed.
“I did. In more ways than one. This wasn’t how I planned on going about this, but when has a hurdle ever stopped us?” He lifted the box in one hand out towards you. “This box belonged to my grandmother on my father’s side. It was given to me should I ever…find someone that I wanted to spend my life with. During my seclusion here, I put it in the chest because I truly never thought I’d find that person. Truly wasn’t sure what sort of life I would have even if I did. But with you, I found so much more than just someone to spend my life with. I found someone to enjoy my life with. To love living life as much as I love you.”
Tears were in your eyes as Gale moved to kneel before you. He held the box up and gently undid the golden clasp to open it.
Inside on a purple velvet pillow was a beautiful ring. A silver band with a diamond that seemed to glitter with every color in the universe.
“Will you–”
You dropped to your knees and grabbed his face, tugging him towards your lips. Somehow the two of you maneuvered so that he could slip the ring onto your finger—and then onto the left hand when you realized in your excitement you’d had the hands mixed up—without releasing the kiss.
When you both finally pulled back, Gale’s smile could have brightened up the entire sky. Instead it just brightened your heart.
Summary : Post-Bg3 final battle, fluff, Gale x GN Tav
I'm sick so this is self indulgent gale fic. WHO WANTS TO TAKE A WHOLESOME BATH WITH GALE DEKARIOSSS
In this dreaming fervor, I hear Gale’s voice. He wakes me up softly, whispering to me as my eyes flutter open, “Tav…”
-----
It was difficult to adjust to a day-to-day where I wasn’t fearing for everyone’s safety. The nightmares persisted. The fighting, the death. Watching Gale stand infront of the Absolute, afraid that he might still be considering the orb. But we’re safe, we did it, we saved Baldur’s Gate, we defeated the absolute, we’re alive, Gale’s alive, I should be fine. And yet...
I awake in his arms, in a cold sweat.
“Gods, I’m so sorry,” I chuckle awkwardly, “I’m soaked.”
He rubs my hair gently and pulls me into a gentle embrace. I hug back, with my hands loosely gripping his shoulders from the back. I feel my breathing steady and my heartbeat slow to match his.
“You know what I think would be delightful right now? A bath. Would you care to join me?”
Wordlessly, I nod my head and he guides me to the bathroom. I reach for my shirt to unbutton my clothes but my shakey hands cause my hands to slip. I click my tongue and Gale walks over to me, wearing only an undershirt.
He plants a soft kiss on my forehead as he undoes my shirt buttons.
“Thank you.”
“You are most welcome,” he says as he guides my hand to the bath tub.
I sit with my back to his chest, cradling my knees. He ladles water gently on my hair and I feel the warmth of the water gently stream across my back.
He places a few kisses on my back, so lightly, so gently that it almost feels ticklish.
“We’re safe now, my love. And we have thousands of days ahead of us.”
Hello lovelies! I wrote a little thing for my babes, Wynmoira and Gale. It's a little angsty but I couldn't help but have a little inspo during my playthrough to write. More will definitely come from them, so be on the lookout!
Part [1] (you are here). Part [2].
can find it on my ao3 here
The branches crunched beneath Wynmoira's feet. Her body ached all over; she was sticky, covered in a thick layer of blood, guts, and goo. A few strands of hair stuck firmly against her moist cheeks. Gods, was she desperately in need of a bath. She couldn't wait to be free of her ruined clothing, to submerge herself entirely in the warm waters by camp. A faint smile crept on her lips at the thought alone.
Wynmoira, Shadowheart, Astarion, and Gale were returning from their battle against Auntie Ethel. The battle was a rough one; Wynmoira was distracted the entire time. Her mind kept going elsewhere, causing her to miss a few spells here and there. If it weren't for Shadowheart dealing the final blow, Wynmoira probably wouldn't have returned to camp in one piece. Shadowheart didn't let it go unnoticed. She called her out for her lack of action, which Wynmoira quietly apologized for. She eventually went silent, too tired to continue arguing. Her eyes then glanced over to Gale.
His face was equally covered in blood, guts, and goo. He was just as tired and beaten as she was. But he walked with a stride that she always secretly admired. But right now, she couldn't feel admiration for the man. She felt a twang of jealousy, slight anger. Before their battle, he finally admitted why he needed to consume magical items. He was a walking time bomb, and it was all because of his intense love for Mystra, the Goddess of Magic herself. Hearing him go into brief detail about his love for her goddess brought a sour taste to her mouth. At first, she found it disrespectful to her deity. But then, feelings of jealousy began to form.
They had been traveling together for quite some time now. They've spent countless nights around a campfire, enjoying Gale's cooking for the group, discussing their favorite books, and making one another laugh during these troubling times. Whether she wanted to admit it to herself or not, Wynmoira began falling for the man. Things have changed since that night when they were messing around with the Weave. There were longing glances from time to time, her strong desire always to have Gale accompany her during their outings, even opening up more to him about her past. She felt more comfortable with him, something she hadn't experienced in so long.
But now, she can't help but feel like all that was for nothing.
"I hope Karlach has something cooked up. Honestly, I could go for a nicely cooked chevon," Gale smiled, gently patting his stomach. His eyes fell onto Wynmoira. Her breath caught in her chest momentarily as she locked eyes with him. "What about you, Wynnie?"
Wynnie. It was something only Gale would call her. Typically, hearing it brought small butterflies to her stomach and made her heart race. But now, it was different. It was like a punch to the gut. Reminding her that despite how close they had been becoming, it would never be as close as he was with Mystra. She mentally cursed herself for thinking such negative thoughts about her patron. She cursed Gale, too, for making her feel this way.
"I'll settle for berries," Wynmoira replied flatly. The smile fell from Gale's face, and he watched as Wynmoira picked up pace, now leading the tired group. Some smoke could be seen in the distance, letting the party know they were almost home. Wynmoira pushed past a few branches until she saw their camp. Karlach was gathered around the campfire, eating soup from a bowl and chatting with Wyll. Their eyes darted towards the incoming crowd, smiling.
"About damn time you got here," Karlach called out with a large smile. "I made soup," she raised a bowl towards Shadowheart. "And it's edible," Wyll teased, earning a playful kick from Karlach. Shadowheart smiled faintly, letting out a tired laugh. She didn't hesitate to make it to her tent. No doubt, she wanted to be free of dirt and bodily fluids before chowing down.
"I'm sure it'll be great, Karlach," Wynmoira smiled. "Just gotta freshen up first, then I'll join you guys." She turned her attention to her chest that rested beside Shadowheart's tent. She carefully undid a few of her bindings, allowing her to remove her armor and place them on the ground, leaving her in her dirtied tunic. Beside the chest was a bucket of water. She scrubbed the grime off her hands and fingers for a few minutes before being satisfied. She grabbed a change of clothes and a cloth to help her dry off after her bath. She made her way through the woods. There was a small river nearby, one that only Wynmoira seemed to know about. She tossed her change of clothes on a small stump before she began to free herself from her blood-soaked clothing slowly. The material practically stuck to her skin, and after a few moments of struggling, she was finally free. She tossed the clothes on the ground and slowly entered the river.
The water was cool on her skin, and she welcomed it. The night seemed hot, and the stark contrast was something she welcomed. She didn't stop until the water was just barely below her collarbone. She wiped at her skin under the water, trying to loosen the gunk from her body. She then pinched her nose, dipping beneath the water. She stayed under for a few moments, enjoying the silence. There were no chirping birds, no sounds of a busy city, no voices.
Just her.
For that moment, she could forget about everything. She could forget about her urges, pushing her to do horrendous things to innocents. She could forget about the tadpole wiggling around in her skull. She could forget about the trouble within the Grove. But most importantly, she could forget about Gale. Be free of the thoughts that plagued her mind, the thoughts of him making love with Mystra.
When she couldn't handle it anymore, she came up for air. She let out a few deep breaths. She was pushing herself, maybe even punishing herself. Why did she let herself get close to Gale? Why did she have to let him in? If she kept him at arm's length like she did everyone else, maybe she wouldn't be feeling this way. Why was he so nice, so welcoming?
Why did he have to tell her about him sleeping with Mystra?
Damn. She cursed under her breath, realizing how aggressive she was being with her hands as she scrubbed at her body. It didn't take long until she was clean, free of dirt or grime. She exited the water, dried herself off, and changed into clean clothes. She wrapped her dirty clothes in the cloth and carried it back to camp before discarding it with her dirtied armor. She made her way to the campfire, where Gale had joined Wyll and Karlach.
He was clean; his hair was wet with nice waves that rested just slightly past his shoulders. He had a large smile, which used to bring butterflies and warmness to Wynmoira's face. She said nothing to him, focusing on the soup Karlarch had made that rested in a pot above the fire. She made herself a bowl before sitting next to Karlach, wanting to be as far away from Gale as possible.
"And after all that, it turns out the old Hag tricked the poor girl! Her husband came back all right but as a zombie!" Gale boomed. He recounted their adventure, a sharp reminder to be careful about what you wished for. He took a spoonful of soup before turning his attention to Wynmoira. He noticed how quiet she was. His brows furrowed as he tried to study her, reading her face to figure out what was wrong. "Wynnie, are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she replied flatly. She brought a spoon to her lips, sipping on the soup. It wasn't anything too special. It was potato soup, though there were some uneven chunks of potato. Despite the possible choking hazard, the soup wasn't too bad.
"Are you sure? You're more quiet than usual," Wyll asked. Karlach gave Wynmoira a slight nudge with her arm, carefully searching her companion's face. Wynmoira's lips were slightly downturned, and Karlach could tell something was off. Wynmoira locked eyes with the Tiefling momentarily and gently shook her head.
"I think we should call it a night," Karlach suggested. She then yawned, stood up, and headed to Wyll. "Besides, we got a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and you need your beauty sleep," she teased Wyll. He scoffed playfully at her words as he stood up. He said his goodnights to Wynmoira and Gale before leaving the two alone at the campfire.
The silence was loud between the two. The only noise between the two was the crackling of the fire before them. Wynmoira tried to enjoy her dinner, but she had no appetite. She idly stirred her soup before Gale finally broke the silence between them.
"Was it something I did?" He asked finally. Wynmoira took a deep breath before she spoke. She was mentally trying to play out this scenario. Does she tell him the truth, a half-truth, or a lie? She wasn't ready to come out and say she was jealous of her patron or feeling insecure about it all.
"I just..." She paused for a moment, trying to think of what to say. "I just didn't like how you kept your orb a secret," she lied. Her eyes finally lifted from her soup, meeting his dark brown eyes. "I thought we were friends, honest with one another, no secrets, you know?"
He breathed, placing his bowl on the ground before settling beside her. He radiated a warmth she'd come to love. A warmth she found so welcoming, a warmth she'd come to crave. But now, she felt uneasy.
"I know I should've said something sooner. Frankly, I didn't know how to go about telling it. And thought I had everything under control." He rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly.
"But you don't," Wynmoira protested. "You're a ticking bomb, and you did all this for power? For a woman?" Her voice cracked slightly. She felt a lump form in her throat as she felt herself grow a mixture of anger and sadness. He was willing to risk his life all for power. He didn't have to do that. She would've never made him do something so reckless, she thought.
He sighed, breaking eye contact with Wynmoira. "You don't understand. You don't know what it's like to be loved by Mystra. It's a powerful thing, something so strong it hurts, something that can't ever be matched."
His words stung. The way he talked about their relationship, it made her heart sink. She couldn't compete with something like that. She hoped for something special with Gale, but there was no way he'd go for someone like her. She was a simple human, there was nothing truly special about her. How could she ever be better with the Goddess Mystra? She felt her eyes begin to sting, tears quickly forming and threatening to fall down her cheeks. She couldn't cry. She didn't want him to see her like this.
"Nothing is worth risking your life like that." She placed her bowl on the ground. She stood up, ready to leave him alone, but she was stopped when he reached out to her, crabbing her wrist.
"Wyn, don't go," he pleaded. She hated herself for feeling like this. She hated herself for trusting him so easily. She hated herself from letting herself fall for him. She hated him for welcoming her. She hated him for making her believe that there was a chance for her to be happy, to find happiness with someone. But he was still caught up on his love for Mystra. Her eyes met his and his mouth dropped slightly.
No doubt he could see the tears forming in her eyes. A tear or two had fallen down her cheek, and his heart sunk. She was crying, and it was all because of him. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her. He tried to open his mouth to protest her leaving, but she cut him off.
"I think it'll be best for you to stay at camp for a bit," she quietly said. She sniffled before her eyes meeting his. Her stare was colder than normal. "It's been a rough couple of days. You could use the rest." She wiggled her wrist free from his grasp before retreating to her tent for the night.
Rating: SFW
Length: Literally 4 short paragraphs this is NOTHING
*Not Proof Read. Literally just for my brain rot*
His fingers moved through locks of hair, brushing them away from his lover's slumbering face. As he gazed down he could see the ghostly reminders of scars, of a hard fought life and a place earned in the world today.
"How grand you chose to love me.." Gale muttered to himself, a smile creeping onto his lips. "You could have gone anywhere and yet.."
They rolled slightly, head turning up towards them as their eyelids fluttered. Gale's smile only grew. "Pleasant dreams only, I hope." Once again he fixed their hair, gently brushing it away from their forehead, but eventually the motions became that of simply tracing his thumb along their hairline. He'd seen blood, sweat, and dirt smeared across that face and each time it had only reminded him of the finest art.
In romance. In tragedy. In victory.
After a few minutes he set aside the book that had still been idling held in his other hand and reached beneath his lovers knees. "Come on now." He gruffed, struggling slightly as he cradled their head with his other arm, and rose to his feet. "Time for both of us to get some rest." Gale pressed his lips against their forehead, sighing through a smile as their eyes fluttered open to meet his.
Imagine going shopping for perfume or candles with gale
Perfume shopping with Gale Dekarios | Drabble
Back in Waterdeep, Gale and I found ourselves wandering through a high-end perfume shop. Surrounded by the myriad of fragrances, Gale couldn't help but be drawn to one that held a distinct and unusual charm – the scent of old books. His eyes lit up with delight as he sampled the fragrance.
"Ah, Tav, I think I rather like this one! It smells like ancient tomes, parchment, and the wisdom of ages, a library captured in a bottle, " Gale exclaimed, holding up the small tester bottle.
I chuckled, watching his enthusiasm. "Of all the scents, you pick the one that reminds you of books?"
He flashed a mischievous grin, "Why not? It's like carrying the wisdom of a library wherever you go. Besides, who wouldn't want to smell like the knowledge of ages?"
After a few moments, I felt a gentle weight on my shoulder. Turning, I found Gale resting his head on the crook of my neck, his eyes closed in contentment.
"You tired, Gale?" I asked, my voice a hushed whisper.
"Finding the perfect scent is a delightful but exhausting endeavour," he admitted, his words muffled against my shoulder. "But being here with you makes it all worthwhile."
He nuzzled into my neck, taking a deep breath.
"You know," he murmured, his voice a soft hum against my skin, "I’ve always loved your natural scent."
"Natural scent?" I raised an eyebrow, teasingly.
He leaned back slightly, looking at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I can't quite tell if it's soap, perfume, or just you, but whatever it is, it's intoxicating."
“You really have a way with words, Gale."
He chuckled, a sound that resonated with warmth. "Well, you know me. Words are my constant companions, much like the books I so adore."
"Alright, Gale," I smiled, "I'll buy you the book perfume."
A contented hum escaped his lips. "Perfect," he says, nuzzling even closer to my neck.
Hello beautiful people! I've finally continued on with my Gale and Wyn drabbles. I will definitely be posting more, especially for this month there's a small writing challenge to write daily happening so be on the lookout for more works with various tavs of mine! :)
Part [1]. Part [2] (you are here).
can find it on my ao3 here
It had been days since Gale’s big revelation. Wynmoira kept her distance from him, not having the courage to face him. She’d make excuses for why she didn’t need him tagging along on their adventures, assuring that she and Shadowheart could handle it, that a third magic user was unnecessary. When she was back at camp, she’d use any excuse to go for a supply run, typically alone or taking Karlach with her in case anyone took issue.
But no matter how hard she tried to avoid him, he always found a way, an excuse, to try to talk to her. He’d try to talk about a book he was reading, and typically, Wynmoira loved to hear about it, but she’d now say she was busy or too tired. He’d try to talk to her at dinner, asking about her day, yet she gave one-word answers or excused herself. She couldn’t let go of her petty jealousy and insecurities, and it was beginning to take a toll on her.
“Need help there?” Gale called out behind Wynmoira. He watched the woman struggle to juggle the newly cut wood in a wheelbarrow. The camp was running low on wood, and it was her turn to cut a few logs. Typically, she didn’t struggle this badly, but she got caught up in the moment during her hacking.
“I’m fine,” she said harshly. She placed another piece of wood on top of the stack. It fell, and like a domino effect, others followed shortly after. Gale watched as the mess unfolded and let out a small huff before reaching for the fallen wood.
“I don’t believe that’s true,” he challenged. His voice was soft yet assertive. They locked eyes for a moment, the silence growing between them. Wynmoira wanted to tell him to go away, yet some part of her wanted him to stay. She missed him, whether she wanted to admit it or not. She missed their time together, and avoiding him made her feel hollow like she was missing something.
“Fine, you can help,” she caved. She reached for a few logs on the ground before placing them into a stack in his arms. Gale let out a small grunt as he tried to adjust to the added weight before chuckling, proud of himself as he steadied the weight. Wynmoira grabbed the wheelbarrow and began pulling it, Gale joining her side as they headed towards camp.
“We haven’t seen much of each other these days,” Gale pointed out, his eyes wandering to Wynmoira. Her eyes remained straight ahead, not drifting for a moment. “I miss our little talks.” His voice was softer, with a hint of pain in his words. Wynmoira’s face faltered for a moment, recognizing the shift in his tone. But just as quickly as it changed, she returned to her stone-cold gaze.
“We’re talking now, aren’t we?” She quipped.
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” Wynmoira finally broke her gaze ahead, looking over at the wizard. His brows furrowed, his lips curled downwards slightly. “Ever since the ordeal with the hag, you’ve been…different.”
She wanted to challenge him, tell him he was wrong. That she was the same woman she’d always been. But she couldn’t bring herself to say it. She knew he was right. Things were different between them. She never really prepared herself for this type of conversation. In all honesty, she hoped to avoid it entirely.
“I just needed to adjust my priorities.” She paused, turning away from him. She couldn’t face him and have this conversation, not now. “We need to get these tadpoles out of our heads before it’s too late.” She continued pulling the wheelbarrow, leaving Gale behind. He followed shortly after her, and the two remained silent until they made it to camp. Karlach approached the two, welcoming them back.
“Hi there, soldier!” Karlach had a large smile on her face. She was comfortable, wearing her camp clothing. There were no real plans for today other than resupplying and resting. Her eyes drifted to Gale, who was following behind, noticing the small frown on his face. “What did you do, Wyn?” Wynmoira’s eyes widened slightly, and her brows furrowed in confusion.
“Lovely how you immediately assume it was my fault,” she protested. Karlach looked at her, raising a brow. She didn’t have to say anything before Wynmoira caved, nodding her head. “He tried talking, and I don’t want to talk.”
She settled the wheelbarrow on the ground and began pulling some logs out, placing a few by the nearby campfire pit. Once enough was placed, she made her way over to a larger stack of wood, refilling the pit. Gale joined her side momentarily, adding his collection to the pile before leaving her. As he walked away, she couldn’t help but look after him. His head and shoulders fell slightly as he sulked back to his tent.
He remained in his tent for the rest of the day, never coming out once. The sun had set, and the others were gathered around the campfire. Wynmoira sat beside Shadowheart, listening to Wyll tell everyone another one of his stories about his journeys. Shadowheart seemed in tune with his words, but Wynmoira was in her own little world. Her eyes would
drift towards Gale’s tent in the distance, waiting for him to join the others. He didn’t even leave to get dinner once it was ready.
“You can always go in,” Shadowheart nudged Wynmoira’s shoulder. Wynmoira snapped out of it, giving a small smile to Shadowheart before shaking her head.
“I’m the last person he’d want to see,” she said. She used her fork to nudge the small bits of potato on her plate. She ate only a portion of her food; not really hungry tonight. Shadowheart stood up, walking away from her companion before returning with a full plate of food and handing it to Wynmoira.
“Give it to him. Don’t need two of you moping about,” she teased. Wynmoira took a moment before standing and taking the plate of food. She went to Gale’s tent, stopping just a few steps outside. Everyone’s voices from the campfire were like soft background noise, and she was in utter silence, waiting outside Gale’s tent. She felt a small lump form in the back of her throat, afraid to call out to him.
“I know you’re out there,” he called out. She mentally cursed herself before entering the tent, a sheepish smile on her lips. Gale was sitting on a small chair, a book in hand. His eyes were glued to the page despite her entrance.
“You didn’t get dinner. Don’t need you starving to death.” She tried to joke, wanting to lighten the mood. Gale took a small breath, his eyes leaving the book to meet hers. “Here,” she held out his plate. He stared at the plate momentarily before finally caving and grabbing it from her hands. Wynmoira sat beside him, keeping her plate on her lap. Her hands fiddled with the plate, needing to find something to distract her from her anxious feelings.
“You…us…things are complicated because of Mystra, aren’t they?” He finally asked. Wynmoira went tense, her hands coming to a halt on the plate. Her eyes drifted to him, and he was already looking at her with his soft brown eyes. She couldn’t find the words to say how she felt, so she nodded her head.
There was no denying that something was forming between the two, since their night practicing with the weave. Images that played through her mind about him, intimate images, were exposed, as were similar images of her in his mind. For a moment, Wynmoira thought something great could come from it. But after learning about Mystra, things became complicated. Her insecurities got the best of her, and she tried to separate herself from him. Hoping that her feelings could disappear. Things would hurt a lot less.
But nothing is that easy.
“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Wynmoira finally said. She chewed at the inside of her cheek, feeling herself become uneasy as she continued to speak. “Your past is your past, I can’t hold it against you. We’ve all got skeletons in our closets.” She knew herself she had her own secrets, secrets she wasn’t ready to tell. It wasn’t fair for her to hold his against him so harshly.
“I appreciate that, but no,” he said. He placed the plate on the table beside him, turning his body to give her his full attention. “No doubt my past has caused a ripple in our…relationship. Frankly, I didn’t know how to tell you about it. I think a part of me was ashamed, really.”
His words pained her to hear. Gale didn’t seem like the type to have shame. The way he was always so confident in himself, she admired it greatly. But to see him like this, talking about his shame, reminded her that he wasn’t the perfect man she envisioned. He was flawed, just like her. He was human.
“I’m sorry,” Wynmoira said softly. She placed her plate on the table and took Gale’s hand in hers. A small smile grew on her lips as she gave him a gentle squeeze. “You didn’t deserve the way I treated you. I just got so…insecure.” Gale placed his hand on top of hers, giving her a gentle squeeze this time. A small smile formed on his lips as the two held a soft gaze with one another.
“All is forgiven,” he assured her. She missed this. She missed him, his touch, his embrace. She felt safe with him, something she didn’t feel with anyone else. He always found ways to put her at ease, even when he wasn’t trying. “But I do require one thing from you.”
“And what is that?”
“Don’t shut me out,” he asked softly. “If something troubles you, tell me. Let me share your pain. Let me take on your burden. I can handle it.”
His words warmed her heart. No one had ever done that for her. Or at least she couldn’t remember someone doing such a thing. He cared deeply for her, and she felt stupid for letting her insecurities tell her otherwise.
Horrible, horrible angst idea for Gale x Tav. (Writing as fem tav because my pov)
Bard Tav obsessively painting, drawing and sketching Gale after he dies because she doesn't want to to forget his face.
She keeps on redrawing and redrawing him because it always feels like there's something missing. She's not even sure if she's remembering things correctly.
The dust slowly settles around the battlefield. The deafening ringing in your ears that only comes in the sudden silence after so much noise making you dizzy. The acrid stench of blood hangs heavy in the air, stinging your nostrils. As your senses calm and your heart eases back to a normal rhythm you glance around, looking for your companions. You see Lae'zel carefully wiping down her sword. Wyll kneeling down to check one of the bodies. Your heart races again - Gale - where was Gale?
You dart to where he last stood, panic replacing your previous calm. As you round the obstacle you find him and breathe a sigh of relief. He's laying on the ground, eyes open, staring up at the sky, but he doesn't appear to be harmed.
"Gale? Are you okay?" You approach carefully and crouch down next to him.
His eyes snap to you and he breathes out a sigh.
"Oh yes, yes I'm fine. Just lying here contemplating my own mortal existence. It's been quite some time since I was...well, in situations such as this. I nearly forgot how painful it was to be hit with a spell." He lets out a puff of air and pulls himself up into a sitting position.
You smile with relief at him and stand up.
"Well, hopefully, we'll find this Halsin soon and can put such things behind us. Until that time though..." You reach your hand down. He glances at it, then up to your face. After a moment he grabs it, and you help pull him to his feet. "Maybe I can show you a thing or two about battlefield tactics." You shoot him a playful smile and realize he's still holding onto your hand. You glance down at his hand gently gripping yours and then back to his face. His gaze seems...far away suddenly, contemplative, staring down at your hand holding his.
"You've shown me such kindness lately, and I'm not quite sure I am deserving of it." He mutters sadly and finally raises his eyes to meet yours. He looks suddenly sad, his soft brown eyes searching yours for something, but you can't quite tell what. You swallow thickly; unsure of what caused the sudden shift in his mood. You give his hand a gentle squeeze.
"Hey. We'll be okay." You try to sound confident but feel your heart hammering in your chest; the sudden tenderness of the moment in stark contrast to the action that just happened previously.
Gale shakes his head slightly, and he puts on a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"Right you are. Always best to stay positive about these things." He says with a deep breath and a forced chipperness. Before you can speak to question him further he raises your hand, still held in his, up between you and turns it over to plant a gentle kiss on your knuckles. "As always, thank you for being such a wonder on the battlefield."
The motion sends a shock through your body and you feel your jaw fall open slightly. Maybe he meant it to be playful or joking, but as he starts to lower your hand, a look crosses his own face and he seems to realize it was anything but. You lock eyes for a brief moment, the mood shifting again and you hope the grime is covering your face enough for him to not notice the blush that's crossing it. As quick as the moment started he unceremoniously lets your hand fall from his grasp and turns away to grab his staff, clearing his throat, suddenly looking a little flustered.
"Well then, let's be off!" He swiftly moves past you, avoiding your eyes leaving you standing there, the ghost of his lips still tingling your knuckles.
