BG3 // Gale x Tav // Vignette (~950 words)
Tav convinces Gale into sparring with her. Little does he know - she is prepared to use all the tools at her disposal.
Tags: fluff, romantic tension, pining, touch starvation, sparring as flirtation
The afternoon sun beat down on Tav’s wind-tousled hair as she nimbly sidestepped yet another firebolt threatening to singe her doublet. She wiped sweat from her brow as she looked at Gale across the small ruins clearing.
“You dance well for someone trying to fight a magical prodigy with a sword.” Gale stood at ease, confident. Threads of blue-purple Weave traced swirling patterns around him, reflecting his features, etched in intense focus. He was a force of wonder in his element, his movements as fluid as the intangible Weave surrounding him. The magic obeyed him almost like an extension of his body. She often thought he was most beautiful when casting. His robes blew back slightly in the breeze as his hands moved precisely through the magic around him, readying another spell.
She’d known what she’d gotten herself into as soon as she’d managed to talk Gale into sparring her. Many times, she’d seen him alongside her in battle, watching him when she could. His form was always partially obscured within the veritable hurricane of arcane energy emanating from him as his hands flashed with light. What was it like to see it firsthand?
He had hesitated at first, unwilling to risk harming her despite the strict rules of sparring in camp, but Tav was nothing if not resourceful. The loser would have to clean the camp’s dishes, she had declared exuberantly, playing on his pride. Gale had raised an amused eyebrow, meeting her eyes confidently with a competitive smirk, and had made a lofty comment about how he was sure her arms would be quite sore from scrubbing come tomorrow morning.
Now, Tav wasn’t so certain about that bet. She panted as she swiftly readjusted, throwing her sword into a strike aimed at Gale’s ribs that he was forced to deflect with his staff. She glanced up and accidentally met his eyes, lit with competitive fire. With a startle, she realized they had flecks of green in them. He moved in that moment of momentary distraction, his voice commanding as the Weave responded eagerly. She found herself skidding back across the ground, boots scraping against the dirt.
“Accepted defeat?” He grinned, a wayward strand of hair sticking to his forehead with sweat.
“Don’t let your ego get ahead of you quite yet,” Tav grumbled, readying her stance again.
Gale’s next spell went flying over her head as Tav slid, swiping at his legs to topple him. He stumbled, knocking her away with a cleverly placed ward and setting her clothes alight. His eyes lingered on her for a heartbeat longer, searching for true pain as she beat out the flame. When none appeared, his posture straightened - hesitation giving way to purpose. With a determined smile, he began to cast again to ensure his victory as she picked herself up, panting and exhausted.
Before the spell left his lips, Tav darted toward Gale across the clearing, startling him. He hadn’t expected her to close the distance so fast. His casting hand faltered, eyes wide in shock as she pinned his wrists against a nearby wall with surprising strength. Her lips met his, swallowing the syllables on his tongue into silence.
It was as if the world had stopped, and some ancient, wordless thing was broken loose inside his chest. For a millisecond, Gale stood rooted to the spot completely as it rampaged through him, desire, awe, need, all at once. Then, his body moved without thought. His gaze softened in recognition, melting into the kiss as he relaxed completely in her hold. Her lithe form slotted perfectly into his chest, as if she had always meant to be there. Tav could feel the residual Weave flowing through and around her, responding to their connection. Unbidden, the impression of a contented sigh flashed through her mind. Under her hands, Gale’s pulse quickened, pounding rapidly in time with her own as his breath caught audibly. The scent of spice and the slightly earthy tang of sweat filled her nose as he gave in and returned the kiss with passion, his eyelids fluttering closed.
When they finally separated for air, she released his wrists, stepping back. She hesitated. The air was loaded with intent. The Weave still flickered around her with gentle warmth, intangible and ethereal, but unmistakably Gale’s.
Gale looked wrecked from just the kiss, lips swollen and chest heaving. His eyes met hers with a wide, broken-open kind of reverent intensity. The previously precise strands of magic sparked into untamed colors around him. She wanted to carve that image into memory.
For a second, he looked as if he might say something clever - anything to recover ground. Some quip, some retort to hide his loss of composure. But the words died on his lips.
“…I yield,” he said hoarsely, voice frayed, holding up his hands in surrender.
She laughed breathlessly, the sound ringing like a clear bell through the ruins. Her laugh alone could sate him for a lifetime, Gale thought despairingly.
“Can’t cast if your hands and mouth are occupied,” she smiled triumphantly.
“I- Gods, Tav…” he managed, face flushed.
She cocked her head innocently, hands behind her back, and asked in a tone far too sweet to be anything but dangerous, “Even if the rules of the spar were slightly bent, would the mighty archmage of Waterdeep be amenable to doing a few dishes in exchange for future affection?”
The Weave hummed with agreement against his skin. Traitor.
Gale sighed, running a trembling hand through his hair, “Above all, the orb, the tadpole, Mystra - you alone will be my ruin, you know that?”
