Summary: Liar’s Night in Waterdeep, sweet hidden secrets are unmasked at the annual masquerade.
CW: Toothrotting fluff, bad puns, Galeisms, Gale infodumping
🎨 by @starlight-pirate
Ao3 Link | Masterlist
When the wind howled like this off the Sea of Swords, a thick fog always rolled in, blanketing Waterdeep in a bone chilly mist. Wet and frigid.
Two things Merelind hated. Two things Waterdeep boasted lots of in addition to its "Splendours" as Gale daily described them. Autumn was colder here, and even though it had been her new home away from Baldur's Gate and the city she had once reigned over in blood as Bhaal's chosen, Merelind Dekarios still was… acclamating.
It was a long walk from his Tower by the shore to the City Council chambers. But tonight there would be no carriages.
Tonight was Liar's Night.
Foggy and damp, the glowing of lanterns and carved pumpkins illumined the streets of the city in eerie flickers.
Merelind clung harder to Gale's arm, shivering. "Much further, my love?" She asked, a little out of breath, more than usual.
She hoped her Wizard didn't notice.
But Gale was far too festive, his step keeping them propelling along the winding streets past other revelers in costumes and masks. "None too far, my rose. We are just now passing the Selûnite Temple."
Merelind noted the scents of incense in the air and the muted songs of prayers and hums from the glowing windows. Good. Not much further.
Her body was aching, and rightly so. Her hand moved to adjust the mask on her face. Her eyes were rimmed extra black, making them a little extra striking, orbs of blue and red in the night sky.
"Your first Liar's Night as a Waterdhavian, Merelind. Aren't you ecstatic?" Gale began to droll as they kept walking into crowds of costumed citizens. "Watch your pockets, my love. Tonight is a night for mischief, tricks, pranks and the like." Arm snugly around hers, he guided his new wife towards the throng of people in the town center, all flowing towards the massive building of the Council Chambers ahead. Its large windows illuminated the square, so bright, even the fog seemed to obey and scatter.
But Merelind's face remained in a pained expression. "Certainly…. festive? Is festive the right word?" She couldn't help the sharp edge to her tone. "Masks and costumes are certainly a lot to behold. But the pumpkins?"
Gale raised a finger. "Ah yes! The pumpkins! An autumn symbol for us, the outer deception of a costume, the inner light of our true identity…"
"A night for tricks?" Merelind's sharp and cold annoyance rivaled the chilling fog.
"Or treats, depending on how well one behaves," Gale's voice lowered, rumbling and velvety, his own black and rose covered mask pressed against her ear as he did.
"Not now, Gale," Merelind huffed. "I'm not in the mood for playing the good girl." She shivered hard until they drew up to the glowing venue. Costumed guests lined the mirror and gold gilted halls and rooms. And Merelind's eyes went wide at the sea of people. "Oh… fuck."
Gale must not have heard her, or he was a bit put out by her flat out denial of his flirtation. He led them inside, heading right for the refreshments. Bowls of punch and mugs of steaming cider covered the table. But the wizard reached for two flutes of champagne. "If you won't allow me to demonstrate with carnal pursuits why this night is festive, at least allow me a toast?"
He held the alcohol out for his wife.
Merelind gave a practiced smile. Forced but she hoped he didn't notice. Instead her hand reached for a mug of cider, lifting it to her nose to sniff. "Allow me to toast with something warmer than champagne after that slog of a walk." The copper mug shined in the candlelight. "To…?" She prompted him.
"To Liars!" He teased, a great big grin on his beared chin.
"Quite the toast from the once Hero of Baldur's Gate, no?" She licked her lips before sipping the hot cider. Gale drank one flute, setting the other back down.
"Is it? Why, given my taste in powerful, deadly brides who smell divine after slaying a thousand enemies, I thought you of all people would know how I do enjoy the darker, more dangerous side of life?" Those brown eyes did not waver from her face, watching how her blood red lips pursed to blow on her hot drink with a hunger Merelind knew.
Shame he'd have to wait.
"You're cute Gale, and I do recall your… propensity for my body once said dangers were eliminated." Merelind's laugh was soft, her head turning to scan the crowd.
Gale's fingers softly pressed under her chin, turning those red and blue eyes back upon him. "Are you alright? Just say the word if you need me." His voice was laced with concern, his warm brown eyes scanning her up and down.
"Hmm? Oh yes. Never better, ha…" she huffed, her eyes flicking around the crowd yet, so many papered faces and voices, it made her uneasy.
"Hmm, not lying are you?" Gale asked, a hint hurt in his voice as if he suspected it was true.
"Lair's night, and you question me?" She frowns slightly. "Not very festive of you."
"Festivities be damned if you're not well, my rose." Gale gave a gentle smile, his black demi-mask framing his lips. "You worry me, and you're mine to worry about, my wife." His black gloved finger reached out to boop her masked nose, the nose of a skull. Gale huffed at the irony of a skull with a nose… andappendage and feature decidedly lacking in the real specimen.
"If you won't taste the champagne, at least let me push my wife around the dance floor a turn or two?" His eyes gleamed, expectant and eager to show her how wonderful this night was. "Your literal Rose Incarnate desires it." He bowed, his purple suit, covered in splotches of red and pink rose blossoms did catch the eye and accept his shape. Their pet names for one another made into his own disguise for the night.
Merelind shook her head, smiling. Even in her state, she couldn't deny him a dance. She held her crimson skirts, her skull mask sticking to her sweating face, but she smiled all the more. "A dance with Death is what you desire? Then I shall oblidge." Her small hand slipped into his, her mismatched eyes lost in the way his face captivated her, even half covered in his disguise. She would know him anywhere.
Gale's smile broadened as he led her to the dance floor, ever the gentleman. A lilting melody, if a bit haunting, crescendoed as he led her to the heart of the mass of dancers. Her body was ever bit lithe and graceful, characteristic of her elven blood. But in his arms, Gale could swear Merelind moved as an extension of his own body.
The same as it was when they made love.
She read every movement of his hands, of his feet on the dance floor, the smallest pressure of his hand at her waist. It was so easy for her to flow around him, like liquid gold, the same shade of her hair that cascaded down her back.
Gale couldn't help the enamored sigh from his lips as he beheld her in his arms. Compared to every other costumed figure in the room, even masked she turned heads. Even disguised as Red Death walking abroad, she was every inch a Queen.
He pressed a kiss to her neck as the moves of the dance dictated he pull her close. "My love, you are radiant," he praised. "What lucky a man am I that I should forgo the shadows of temples and orders of hollow goddesses to call you mine. My wife."
Merelind bristled at the mere vague mention of Mystra, but nevertheless, she smiled back at him.
"Certainly the call of the divine is nothing compared to the call of your wife from our bed, hmm?" She laughed, her body aching and protesting. Eager to return to said bed.
A deep rumble of a laugh vibrated her ear, the soft scruff of his beard scoring her sensitive shell. "Oh I'm sure your designs on getting me into bed are purely innocent, eh, wife?" He crooned, hand sliding down the red swaths of her skirt to squeeze her ass.
Her face fell, her lips pressing as she turned her head. "You misunderstand my intentions," she murmured, even as he took her hand to spin her under his arm. Mid-turn, Merelind caught the perplexed frown on his face.
"Have I?" Gale asked, confused and concerned. "Since when have I ever failed to follow the careful trail of your wiles to our…" he blushed and leaned in to whisper, "marital activities."
"Hells Gale, no," she pulled back, blushing harder even as they kept swaying and moving across the dance floor. "It's not that…. I'm tired." She swallowed the ball of nerves that threatened to burst from her throat. "I have reason to be."
"Gods, are you ill?" Gale frowned deeper. "Did you get into the cursed tomes I explicitly told you not to in my library? Is it Tara? Did she say something? My mother? Did she comment on…?"
Merelind lifted her hand and pressed her fingers firmly on his flapping lips.
"No. It has nothing to do with any of that and everything to do with you… me… us."
Gale frowned in utter confusion even as her fingers covered his lips. He tried to speak but Merelind only pressed to them harder.
"Ah ah, Gale," she smirked. "My words are heavy with meaning… they're still… incubating."
The perplexed scowl didn't move. Still nothing. Those brown eyes shifted even as he closed a hand around her wrist to remove her silencing touch. His mind, so sharp in matters of magic still did not perceive her meaning.
"Before I give you a pregnant pause, I'll tell you why I'm tired… eager to rest, less of my spritely self."
His eyes went wide, head moving as he eyed her up at down. "Is this a trick? It is Liar's Night. A good night for pranks." He muttered, a hint of excitement. "Don't tease me, Merelind," Gale hummed, looking down, a sad turn to his masked mouth as his hands came to rest on her hips.
"Not a trick, a…treat."
Gale's brown eyes warmed even brighter. "Oh… Oh, Merelind…" her meaning now had his belief. Those hands that could spark fire and lightning rested on her front. "Oh, my rose, I confess I was… expecting… something quite different, thought I cannot fathom what."
"Tch, don't use such crude puns, Gale." She teased, she smiled. "This dance for two is now a dance for three," she laughed softly, pushing her mask up off her face so he could see her revealed elation. "I hope you don't mind if she cuts in."
"She?" Gale pushed up his mask as well so he could smile as hard and wide as he wanted without impediment. "Already you think we are having a baby girl? A little half-elf daughter?"
Merelind shrugged, eyes down where his hand pressed to her front, belly still flat but sure to grow round now. "A mother's intuition…" she mused. "I can only think of the joy she will bring." Red and blue eyes drifted up to his face, lost in the warmth of his brown ones, watching them well with tears. "A creation of joy."
"An accurate observation," he commented in reply. "Our creation of joy, or," he lifted his finger yet again, his smile all trembling with happiness, "in your Elvish mother tongue of which I have been hard at study… Nhavae."
"Nhavae," Merelind repeated pulling herself into his embrace. "I think you should take Nhavae and I home. It's been a long night of lanterns, and tricks, and treats."
Gale laughed, scooping her up, formal dress and all, in his arms as he carried her from the party back into the lanternlight and dark of night. "Then allow me to escort you both back home to the warm tower that awaits."
Pumpkins grinned, lanterns flared in the foggy dark, but there was no one warmer or bright that night than the Wizard of Waterdeep and his wife.
