#is his last name not 'of waterdeep'??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

messiahzzz · 13 days

Text

it is a conscious choice of mystra to initially present herself as this benevolent, courteous, and merciful being. a practiced and perfected approach she knows will compel gale to follow her demands with the least amount of resistance on his part. he already refused to follow her instructions when she sent elminster to request his death — his effective father figure, gale’s self-proclaimed hero, mentor, and the one who plucked him from obscurity in the first place — so another appeal is in order.

narrator: "elminster's visit weighs heavy on your mind. his face you did not expect to see again." narrator: "when you last saw him, you were in your prime. no orb, no tadpole. a mage of growing renown, all power, pride, and potential - beloved by the goddess of magic herself. narrator: "it's one thing to have fallen from such heights, but to have elminster himself now witness your humiliation is almost unbearable." gale: [his disappointment cuts deeper even than mystra's. he was your hero.] narrator: "while most know of elminster the legend, few know him as you have. he plucked you from obscurity. offered you his guidance. his faith. and most recently, his pity."

yet it is curious how quickly she changes her tune once gale doesn’t readily agree to her demand to return the crown of karsus to her, no questions asked. or even dares to impugn, or criticize her reasoning for leaving him to die.

gale: "a great ask indeed. you've given me much to think on - as you always did." mystra: "so be it. follow the needles of your own wisdom. we shall see how truly it leads you."

gale: "because i disobeyed you. you punished me for it." mystra: "how so? you think i should have cured you? erased the consequences of your actions?"

gale: "you break up with me, cut me off from the weave, leave me to die, and that's all you have to say? 'you look well'?" mystra: "i did not come here to suffer a mortal's admonitions. certainly not yours."

gale: "you were threatened. you realised you couldn't control me." mystra: "you were many things to me, but never a threat. and never a saviour." nodecontext: sharper, almost a warning - don't entertain such thoughts, gale. you won't like where they lead.

gale: "i don't know. i need time to think." mystra: "so be it. follow the needle of your own wisdom. we shall see how truly it leads you."

particularly interesting to note is how she uses his surname as a tool to chastise and taunt him. only referring to him as "gale dekarios" in the context of him displeasing her, when he doesn't readily obey, whether he simply wavers (needing time to think) or outright declines her instructions. she uses the very name he had actively discarded and refuses to be referred to at this point in time. a deliberate reminder of his fallible humanity, of the flaws he tried to distance himself from. she knows this.

gale: "i won't let you down again. when the absolute is vanquished, i will surrender karsus' powers to you. you have my word." mystra: "thank you. may the weave's light guide your purpose, and it's wisdom guide your hand." mystra: "the future of magic rests on your shoulders, gale of waterdeep". mystra: "i promise you - it is a burden you are strong enough to bear."

gale: "i don't need your forgiveness. the crown of karsus will be mine, and the karsite weave will obey me." mystra: "crown yourself, gale dekarios, and you will learn what it is to carry such weight upon your shoulders." mystra: "if it does not crush you, i will." nodecontext: an icy edge entering her voice - a hint of a challenge gale will face if he pursues this course. nodecontext: here we glimpse the true, unimaginable power of mystra. she's still in control of herself, but her anger should be palpable.

i have already addressed the overall topic of mystra & gale's relationship in several posts i wrote some time ago [x] [x] [x]. however, since then we have received new snippets of information with patch 5 that shed more light on the progression of their relationship as a whole. this post is intended to be an update of sorts, containing a more comprehensive list, as well as lore excerpts for added context and proof. i will split this essay into several sections for coherency — buckle in, cause this is going to be a long one!

✧ mystra's history of manipulation ✧

one of the epilogue letters revealed that elminster first sought gale out when he was about 8 years old. which according to gale's canon age being 35 (as listed on his idle champions character sheet) means that their first meeting occurred around 1465 DR. although elminster's wording suggests that this may merely be an estimate on his side.

furthermore - in the ending where gale dies in the attempt at ascension, raphael has the following to say:

raphael: "you were the spark of ambition that rekindled gale's ambitions, after mystra had so cleverly put them to rest."

insinuating that mystra did make an active effort to keep gale in line, to temper his ambition, lest his thirst for more knowledge would eventually prove bothersome for her. keeping an eye on him at all times, keeping him close, placating him, and urging him to be patient.

what distinctly stood out to me is how this also aligns with some of azuth's quotes in the temptation of elminster, while he gives advice to a then-young sage of shadowdale.

we are her treasures, lad—we are what she holds most dear, the rocks she can cling to in the storms of wild art. she needs us to be strong, far stronger than most mortals ... tempered tools for her use. being bound to us by love and linked to us to preserve her very humanity, she finds it hard to be harsh to us—to do the tempering that must be done. she began the tempering of you long ago; you are her 'pet project', if you will. [...]

"you serve mystra differently. she watches you and learns the human side of magic in all it's hues from your experiences and the doings of those you meet—foes and friends alike. yet the time has come for you to change, and grow, to serve as she'll need you to, in the centuries ahead."

and yet again, there is a reoccurring pattern in her relationship with sammaster, another of her chosen, as well:

sammaster fell to his knees and wept upon mystra's feet. they ended up spending ten days together. this made him the first chosen of mystra since the seven sisters. when he asked for the reason that mystra had chosen him, she replied that she had foreseen that one of her chosen would be killed in battle, and he would be the replacement. he left this encounter feeling as though he and mystra were in love.

mystra is no stranger to fostering feelings of boundless devotion that weren't present before. observing her potential chosen, appearing before them, promising them power. luring them into service without the knowledge of what this may entail. where other gods may instill fear, mystra instills the notion of love. practicing seduction while mirroring her chosen's humanity. intentionally portraying herself as someone sympathetic and approachable. syncing their language, highlighting mutuality, making them feel favored and seen. mystra sees no need in the act of divine separation, a display of godlike grandeur — inimitable, menacing, larger than life, towering above her chosen. instead, her manifestation is purposefully unassuming. she meets them in the form of a woman in her early 30s, conventionally attractive, palpable, and appealing to the masses — a human figure. the very embodiment, the very ideal of traditional beauty an impressionable, young wizard may have.

gale: "i can't quite describe it, the need i sometimes feel to see her - to draw the filaments of fantasy into existence." gale: "no sculpture or painting could ever do her justice, only the fabric that she herself is and embodies."

gale: "in her likeness, i used to read a thousand stories. she was beauty, wisdom, elegance, power... she contained universes."

player: “what did mystra’s attention feel like?” gale: “love. [...] perhaps it was not quite love, but you see, the wizard was but a very young man. it was most certainly love to him. [...]"

how we see her in the game is very likely the same form she chose to present to a young gale. beauty, wisdom, elegance. perceived perfection, yet humble in her divinity.

the mystra of now (1490s DR) retains some of the memories of all of her earlier selves, and the relatively young and inexperienced midnight is “in there,” but wholly subsumed. mystra could generate an avatar or seeming that might fool some mortals into thinking they were meeting midnight, but it would be an act. [x]

generating an avatar in the form of a mortal she subsumed. purporting mutuality. midnight was just another mortal added to mystra's long list of "human stock" — vessels intended to preserve her power. favored, chosen, and ultimately suppressed by the very essence of mystra herself. midnight is no equal piece of mystra, the deity, there is no conscious part of the mortal that remains. [x] the mystra that currently exists is a union of the original mystryl, as well as all the other reincarnations of her that melded into her being. fragments of their minds that linger in the weave, scraps of humanity that could perhaps aid in her knowledge and understanding to prevent further betrayals in the future.

mystra's approach has always been indirect, instead of being outright menacing and portentous. the fact that mystra isn't written like the other gods in the game doesn't mean she's more sympathetic to gale's struggles or more inclined to understand human nature. her concern will always be the preservation of her domain and her hold over the weave — to do as the gods do.

gale: "you're one to talk. how many innocents were you prepared to sacrifice if i detonated the orb?" mystra: "such eddies are unexceptional. souls arrive and depart your plane with every tide, in circumstances just and unjust." nodecontext: matter of fact, not interested in these kinds of specifics

ketheric thorm: "who decides what is right? the gods did not care for right and wrong when they dismantled my life piece by piece." ketheric thorm: "and when i tried to buy it back, it cost me everything - everything." ketheric thorm: "we are copper pieces in their belts. tokens to be traded for scraps."

it is often mentioned that mystra makes her attention known by brushing against her potential chosen. whispering to them, touching their skin, eliciting a tingling sensation. which is also how mystra chose to reveal herself to ariel manx (midnight) in 1353 DR, while she was 21 years of age.

gale mentions feeling a similar sensation if he chooses to destroy the summoning circle in balthazar's office at moonrise and thereby receives her blessing.

gale: "did you feel that?" gale: "if i wasn't surrounded on all sides by the darkness of the shadow-cursed lands, i'd think it was mystra herself brushing against my skin."

mystra isn't above using manipulations to get her way. once again evident in her instigating dornal and elué silverhand's union in the first place, as well as intentionally withholding information from dornal that she actively took possession of his wife, elué. to ensure that they would indeed produce her offspring — the seven sisters — her chosen and the vessels to house her power.

where elué had previously been reluctant to acknowledge dornal's advances, he found them suddenly returned with great fervor once mystra took possession of her body. [x]

"by the time elué was carrying her final child, she was in effect a lich - a crumbling shell kept alive only through mystra's power. dornal was shocked at her deterioration. he sought magical aid to cure his wife, and when he learned from the most powerful priest he could find that his wife was possessed by an intelligent force of great power, a sickened dornal tried to slay her. he struck off her head one moonlight night as they walked together in a wooded glade. mystra was forced to reveal herself. dornal was shattered by what he had done, and aghast at how he - and especially elué - had been used." [x]

dornal, who had been kept in the dark throughout, abandoned his lands and children after slaying his wife, traveling to the north, with the plan to seek his own death. he repeatedly tried to poison himself, yet mystra wouldn't allow him suicide and magically neutralized the lethal doses to keep him alive against his will. after his death in 797 DR, mystra turned him into another servant of hers: the watcher — one who wanders the realms, seeking out new potential chosen to this day.

which brings us to...

✧ mystra's foresight and her "death" ✧

mystra possesses a degree of foresight - she foresaw the time of troubles and her own passing at the hands of helm in 1358 DR for defying him and her attempt to converse with the overgod ao without the tablets of fate. the very reason why she sought out mortal vessels to house her power (the seven sisters) — to avoid disaster should another entity win control over her in the chaotic period of wildly fluctuating power struggles that was the time of troubles. this divine power slumbers within these individuals, which she can call upon.

in 1385 DR mystra (midnight) was struck down by cyric and shar, which brought upon the spellplague.

in 1479 DR mystra was located by elminster inside a cave in cormyr, guarding her mortal body. she survived cyric's assassination by inhabiting the body of a bear, while still able to contact her chosen. she returned to her full power in 1487 DR.

the important part, that i've often seen outright ignored or misinterpreted by fandom altogether, is that mystra wasn’t actually “dead” for over a hundred years. at least not in the way we perceive it. we can’t equate her death with our mortal understanding of it. her powers were diminished to an extreme and she was weakened, yet she was still able to communicate. it was in her power to contact her chosen and to guide them. evident by her calling for elminster through her telepathic link and directing him to recruit other chosen for her to restore her power.

the plot of baldur’s gate 3 takes place in 1492 DR. meaning gale's actual year of birth would be 1457 DR. while elminster likely sought him out around 1465 DR, when he was only 8 years old. however, i once again want to emphasize that “couldn’t have been more than 8 summers old” indicates that this may merely be an estimate on elminster's side. he could’ve possibly reached out to him even earlier than that, or perhaps later. gale was 22 year old at the time when mystra was found in her diminished state by elminster in 1479 DR.

✧ mystra's awareness✧

gale: “so, all it took to get mystra’s attention was to learn how to reforge an artifact that once destroyed her." gale: "it's obvious, when you stop to think about it."

even if you may personally be skeptical of elminster’s insertion into gale’s life at age 8 (as well as mystra's ability to contact her chosen during her death) to be enough evidence of mystra’s attention — she had to be aware of him for his talents alone since he was a mere child. there is no way around this.

player: "how could she possibly know we read a book? hasn't she got more important things to worry about?" gale: "the weave is a highly sensitive magical network threaded through all life on this plane. any shift in magical energy, no matter how small, is akin to a beacon, alerting mystra to its cause." gale: "opening a book like the annals of karsus was akin to us shooting a firework spelling 'look at us, mystra!' directly into the skies of elysium. she knows."

mystra IS the weave, as gale himself has stated several times. it is an extension of her being, threaded through all life. by touching the weave one is directly touching the goddess of magic herself. mystra is aware of any magic user, able to deepen this contact at her choosing.

shadowheart: "isn't it so, that every time you speak as you cast a spell, you're endeavouring to call upon mystra?" shadowheart: "i'm surprised she still listens to you." gale: "she has no choice - she's sworn to hear all magic users. even me." gale: "i'm sure she at least stuffs her fingers in her ears to muffle my invocations."

gale described himself as a child prodigy. a virtuoso that was able to manipulate and compose the weave at will from an early age.

gale: "magic is... my life. i've been in touch with the weave for as long as i can remember. there's nothing like it."

gale: "i'm what one might call a wizard prodigy, who from an early age could not only control the weave, but compose it, much like a musician or a poet."

gale: "such was my skill that it earned me the attention of the mother of magic herself. the lady of mysteries. the goddess mystra." gale: "she revealed herself to me and she became my teacher. in time, she became my muse, and later, even my lover."

someone who was able to perform feats way beyond the skillset of his peers. he managed to wield the blackstaff itself, accidentally facing an irritated death slaad, and lived to tell the tale. he summoned and befriended tara, as well as the magma mephit, k'ha'ssji'trach'ash. we also know from elminster that he was able to cast fireball — a 3rd level spell — at age 8.

it is indisputable that mystra must’ve taken notice of the precocious young wizard during this time, even in her diminished state. much like she had once observed midnight. she began to whisper to him, drawing back the veils, revealing herself bit by bit, urging him that he was special — chosen.

gale: "he fancied himself much more than that. he fancied himself favoured above all others. [...] mystra showed him the secrets behind the veils. the gossamer veils first, draped across the weave. the delicate veils next, draped across her body. ‘chosen one’ she whispered, as she slipped them off completely."

✧ final part: power imbalance & exerting control ✧

gale: "the weave is still here, all around us - inside of us too. as long as the goddess lives, magic is a tangible thing for those who know how to touch." gale: "i've studied magic for many years, and in as many ways i am still a more than capable wizard." gale: "it's just that i'm no longer able to perform those feats even arch wizards would marvel at." gale: " to have one hand on the pulse of divinity." gale: "you have to remember that the weave is a living thing, both the embodiment and the extension of mystra herself." gale: "she can give and she can take away. i'm afraid i'm still very much on her naughty list."

gale: "mystra commands all magic. salvation, if such a thing exists, is hers to bestow or withhold." gale: "and yet, even now, more than i fear losing my own self and soul, i fear losing my command of her art."

player: "he sounds like a very talented individual." gale: "he was. even though it was in mystra’s affections that his true power lay."

even apart from their innate different forms of existence as a mere mortal and the literal goddess of magic, mystra is in full control of gale's power at all times, able to grant and withdraw her favors at will. claiming that such a power imbalance doesn’t exist, that it doesn’t apply to their respective relationship, that it might’ve been “healthy” at one point if gale was indeed of age at the time their relationship transitioned into a sexual nature is —pardon my french— fucking insane.

this stance disregards everything we know about the gods, about mystra’s involvement with other mortals and her chosen. it disregards the level of authority she wields over any magic user. it carelessly and naively disregards the implicit difference in power. mystra is the goddess of magic, his goddess. the very object of his worship and adoration since childhood. the goddess he devoted his life, his work, and his unyielding loyalty to. it is ultimately irrelevant at what exact point their relationship underwent its final transition from muse to lover. this discussion is redundant. mystra has been a constant presence since his early childhood. his worship of her began with the practice of his first spells, even if it wasn't conscious at the time. every practitioner of magic inevitably honors mystra, regardless of their faith in her. magic is his life, in the same way that mystra is pure magic. she is in total control of the tools he wields.

✧ summary ✧

mystra possesses a degree of foresight, already knowing about the time of troubles & her subsequent passing. this being her reason to seek out mortal vessels to secure her power.

mystra feels any shift in magical energy no matter how small, immediately alerting her. gale was able to cast a third-level spell at age 8.

mystra has a history of instilling feelings of love that weren't present before and using her chosen/other mortals for her own means. (elminster, khelben, sammaster, the seven daughters, ariel manx etc.)

mystra's manifestation is a conscious choice. midnight has been wholly subsumed by her.

mystra wasn’t actually “dead” in 1479 DR, but merely diminished. she was inhabiting the body of a bear and was still able to communicate with her chosen. she directed elminster to recruit other chosen to restore her power.

elminster sought gale out around 1465 DR when he was about 8 years old, as stated in the epilogue letter.

mystra first functioned as gale’s mentor, then his muse, and later his lover.

gale’s relationship with her was indeed of a sexual nature, he has explicitly stated so several times. their intimacy wasn't restricted to incorporeal interactions either, even though they were preferred.

during the ending where gale fails to ascend raphael states during the credits that tav has “rekindled gale’s ambitions after mystra had so cleverly put them to rest”.

azuth describes mystra's chosen as "tempered tools for her use". being bound to them by love and linked to them to preserve her very humanity.

mystra's intention to shape gale into yet another loyal, devoted asset to her portfolio has been there from the very moment she chose to reveal herself, to instruct elminster to seek him out. it was a conscious decision to directly insert herself into gale’s life, sowing his conviction that he was favored above all others. singling him out among his peers, isolating him with subtle promises of his greatness, his uniqueness, and all he could yet accomplish to be under her guidance. offering him her teachings, her inspiration, and eventually her love. yet all the while tempering his perceived greed and thirst to reach for even greater heights, unless it acted in her favor. keeping him close — lest his growing ambitions should ever prove to be an outright challenge to her rule.

the groundwork has been carefully laid from the very beginning.

gale: “goodnight. and thank you for your patient understanding. [...] try not to think too poorly of me. a cat can look at a king. a wizard can look at a goddess.”

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 meta #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #mystra #grooming tw #abuse tw #long post #writing this genuinely burned me out ngl #so glad to finally unleash it though since it has been sitting in my drafts for weeks

363 notes · View notes

powdermelonkeg · 4 months

Text

Gale of Waterdeep assorted headcanons:

He has photographic memory, hence his accuracy when recreating his tower during his last night

He was born during, and named for, a particularly bad storm that smacked into Waterdeep

He's 38 years old and 5'8" (173cm)

The Scroll of True Resurrection was his magnum opus, something he intended to use to bring back someone he cared deeply for, but with the orb, he was forced to repurpose it for his death protocol

He used to go on seasonal ventures with Tara. He'd be on the hunt for magical items and new knowledge, she'd be on the hunt for beholder jerky. It's where he got the stash of artifacts he had before the orb consumed them all

Is he a sorcerer? He'll tell you no. He's a very studied, very LEARNED wizard, thank you. He was casting Fireball, a 3rd level spell, at 8 years old. Of course, he could also fly at 8 years old, because that's also a 3rd level spell. That Storm Sorcerers can fly as a bonus action after spellcasting is mere coincidence.

He and his mother greet each other with a peck on each cheek and a hug

His previous romantic ventures, before Mystra, always fell apart at his magic. He'd be grand and impress them every which way, they'd ask what else he could do and want more, and he'd launch into whole lectures about the craft. It would always peter out about then; either they always wanted him to one-up himself, or they got bored of his studies and frustrated with his focus on them. Mystra was the first that felt like true love to him because she fell into neither of these pitfalls—but the absence of expectation made him nervous and lit a fire under his ambition, because how could he ever be enough?

He has his mother's eyes and hair, but his father's smile and jawline

He knows how to deal with panic attacks, not because he himself is often subject to them, but because his magical shenanigans when he was young often sent the housekeeper into a state, and he felt bad about it. Particularly after the magma mephit incident burned a hole in the carpet. His own first panic attack was just after he got the orb; Tara sat on his lap and purred like a motor to help calm him down

The man is demi. He has to believe there's a hint of interest in him in order to start seeing the attractive parts of another. Because of that, he thinks "smash or pass" style conversations to be pointless and trite. Of course, he reads into things too much, so he might THINK there's a spark of interest in him before there actually is one and react accordingly

He gets his articulate vocabulary and speech patterns from his time in the Blackstaff Academy, his tendency for jokes and his wild gesticulation from his father, and both his proud and romantic outlook from his mother. His wonder for the world around him has always been in his heart, ever since he began playing with magic

He and his father generally got along, but they had a series of arguments when Mystra came into the picture. Well-intended, civil arguments, none that ever ended in shouting or anything; more a quiet damage of disapproval that left Gale frustrated and feeling like his family didn't understand how great an interaction like he'd earned was

His father died in a carriage accident shortly after Gale moved into his own place. Gale had been trying to make a scroll of True Resurrection to get him back, but...well...

With the orb, statistically speaking, Gale should have gone to Laeral Silverhand about his artifact problem. With his search for "elder wizards" to address his condition with when you talk to him, as well as her ability to CREATE magical artifacts, she seems the best solution. But he hasn't gone to her, nor Vajra, the current Blackstaff of Waterdeep, because he was afraid that if they learned of his condition, he'd be evicted from Waterdeep for the rest of the city's safety (to speak nothing of how much it would hurt to see their disappointment in him)

On that same note, the reason he (according to Tara) left without so much as a note was that he'd gotten an impulsive decision to go to Silverymoon and ask help of Lord Methrammar Aerasumé, Alustriel Silverhand's son. And that's why he was in Yartar when the Nautiloid attacked

On the whole "who meddled first, Mystra or Elminster" topic: Mystra was alive but severely weakened, believed dead until she revealed herself to Elminster. As her Chosen, she'd have known his whereabouts; Elminster interacted with Gale when he was 8, and that's when Mystra became acutely aware of Gale's existence and began interacting with him, BEFORE she began speaking with Elminster (hence Gale's line about "she revealed herself to me")

Same note, when Mystra first appeared to Gale, it was as a child his age. Equal parts enamored with this prodigy who held innate understanding of her Weave, and "keep your enemies close" in regards to caution around where he could lead himself unguided

Their romantic interactions began after she came back to her power in full, though. I fully believe that she paid him the time of day in that regard because she could sense his love for her through the Weave, like how he can sense your intentions during his magic lessons. It was a moment of opportunity, both to indulge herself and to weave (heh) herself further into his future

The Blackstaff Academy gave quarterstaff self defense lessons. Gale was never particularly GOOD at it, but it got him enough to get by. Between that and the various staircases in his tower are why he's built the way he is

He's confident in his appearance, but very conscious of showing too much skin; he doesn't like feeling exposed, hence his camp outfit being as conservative as it is

He can make something palatable out of just about anything, but his cooking style prioritizes flavor WAY over health. Everything is fluffy and delicious and well-seasoned, and also drowned in garlic butter and cream sauces

Despite this, he's a picky eater on his own terms. Give him shelf-stable rations, he'll find some way to make a meal out of the parts he likes, then avoid the rest. Absolutely eats all the M&Ms out of the trail mix

What he drinks depends on his setting. At the bar? Waterdeep whiskey on the rocks. Romantic setting? Arabellan dry wine. Pleasant company to chat with? Tea. Late night studies? Coffee with a stirring of cinnamon. His wedding? Neverwinter ice wine

Besides Mystra, the deities he pays most attention to are Oghma, Sune, Azuth, and Lliira. His patronage at the House of Beauty in Waterdeep is one constant that's never been shaken by his studies

Sometimes, he pretends to be dramatic in the mirror: Doth thy mirror crack? (Thanks for the research, @galedekarios!)

Fully believe Wash My Pain Away to be his personal theme song, independent of the tadpole events

Despite owning a piano, he doesn't actually play it; there's a reason he's spelled it to play songs for him

He was born in late spring, and the season is one of his favorite subjects of poetry

He has sincere potential to be the next Blackstaff: THAT entered his deck of cards when it let him wield it back at the academy

#bg3 #gale dekarios #headcanons #long post

484 notes · View notes

yourfriendowlbear · 4 months

Text

Name Day

Astarion x gn!reader

Summary: It's your name day. Astarion wants to do something special for you.

today is my birthday, so I figured I'd write something a little self-indulgent

It’s your name day, and Astarion has been frantic

He doesn’t remember much about his life before Cazador, but he knows that birthdays are a big fucking deal for elves

And whether you’re an elf or not, he wants to do something. If you are an elf, it’s all the more important for him to celebrate accordingly.

He’s freaking out. What in the hells does he do for you? What in the hells can he get you?

He’s more than happy to buy you anything–he’s more than happy to steal you anything, but you have everything reasonable that you could want.

Nothing seems good enough for you. He knows that you’ll more than likely love whatever he ends up with, but that doesn’t mean he’s cutting himself any slack.

He’s so desperate that he goes to Gale. He’s got ideas, but he’s just a vampire with limited resources and limited nighttime hours. He knows when he’s at a disadvantage, and though he’s loathe to ask for help, he isn’t willing to fumble this.

So he convinces you to visit Waterdeep and to drop in on your wizard friend, who has insisted on numerous occasions that you’re more than welcome at his tower any time.

It takes a few days, but Gale does manage to enchant something for Astarion to gift you. The wizard had helped him plan it, and he’d basically had to create the enchantment from the ground up. It’s beautiful, and he absolutely cannot wait to give it to you.

The day of your birthday arrives, and you’re at your shared home in Bloomridge, in the Lower City of Baldur’s Gate. The house–like many of the homes in the neighborhood–is built onto the side of the city wall. It’s small but not cramped, with a large, inviting kitchen, a cozy drawing room, and two bedrooms. Two balconies–one off the main bedroom, one off the drawing room–look out over the city and Grey Harbor.

Astarion is nervous, and he’s never been more glad to not have a heart, since it would probably give him away.

It’s evening. The two of you have just gotten up. You’re sitting out on the balcony, curled up on the outdoor settee. There’s a lantern hanging on a hook above you as you read. Astarion’s arm rests around your shoulders, a book clasped in his other hand. You’re nestled into his side, a barely held together ancient tome in your lap. Scratch lays on the ground in front of the settee, head on his paws.

A raucous laughter pierces through the foggy evening. Karlach and Lae’zel are the first to appear on the stairs.

Leave it to your merry band of misfits to disrupt the peace of your little neighborhood.

You’re off the couch and at the front door in a flash. Scratch gives a confused woof before trotting off after you. Astarion can hear you laughing as you let them all in.

By the time he can see you at the door, you’re being squeezed by Karlach. Gale stands, grinning, in the hall. Wordlessly, he nudges a package into Astarion’s hands.

Wyll has brought a cake. Lae’zel carries something that looks strangely like a sword wrapped in paper. Shadowheart has a little box.

As you lead them all in, Gale hands you a large bottle of Blackstaff wine.

You drink and laugh with these people who, over the course of only a few months, became your best friends. And as much as Astarion hates to admit it, he loves them for showing up for you.

Eventually, Karlach pushes you to open the presents they’ve brought.

As expected, Lae’zel has brought you a Githyanki sword, a traditional gift for warriors on their name days. Shadowheart has brought you a necklace that she’s blessed.

Astarion saves his for last, sliding it into your lap when you’re laughing at something Wyll has said, your voices all a little louder from the wine. You look at him, a little confused, but you tear the paper off anyway.

You’re even more confused when you discover six stone tablets and wooden styluses inside.

Gale takes pity on you, and picks one up, using the stylus to write ‘happy name day, tav’ on one of the slates. You gasp when it appears on the other five almost immediately.

“So you can talk with everyone when you need to,” Astarion explains. He hates how soft his voice sounds, but gods above, he put a lot of thought into this. He so desperately wants you to like it.

But his fears evaporate when you launch out of your chair, your arms wrapping around his neck in a tight hug.

He laughs and hugs you back, relieved that, for once, he could give you something nice, something you deserve, so that he could show you just how cared for you are.

#astarion x reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion fluff #astarion fanfic #astarion headcanons #astarion fic #astarion romance #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

438 notes · View notes

itsabardknocklife · 4 months

Text

Things the Baldur's Gate Fandom Needs To Know About Mystra

The current Mystra is the third Mother of Magic and she was originally a mortal human woman named Ariel Manx.

Ariel was the second daughter of a wealthy merchant and she liked to sneak out at night to go partying in the clubs.

While out clubbing one night, Ariel - known as Midnight among her friends - met a conjurer named Tad who introduced her to magic and brought her to Mystra's temples.

When Ariel was 21, she attracted Mystra's attention and began to feel as though she were being watched. Whenever this happened, she found that her ability to cast spells increased and that spells that she once found difficult were much easier.

In 1358, when Ariel was 26, the ALL gods were cast out onto the Material Plane by Ao because Bane and Myrkul were being little shits and making yet another power grab, like they do.

The Original Mystra was extremely Unhappy about being thrown out of the heavens and tried to march back up the Celestial Stairway to reclaim her place of power.

Ao did not take kindly to this, and promptly had Helm kick her ass.

Unfortunately, Mystra dying is Bad For The Weave, and Ao had to replace her.

He picked Ariel.

When she was 26.

Immediately after she kicked Myrkul's bony ass in a duel that took place in the sky over Waterdeep.

In order to make the transition easier, Ariel took up the name of Mystra so that

27 years later, Cyric and Shar conspired to kill her so that Shar could take over as the Mother of Magic and spread her Shadow Weave over the land.

Instead of granting Shar control of the Weave the way she hoped, the new Mystra's death/disappearance caused the Weave to collapse, taking the Shadow Weave with it and kicking off what is known as the Spellplague.

Unlike the last two times Mystra was killed, everything went kind of nuts. Magic faded, blue fire raged across the land, killing everything it touched and then raising them into ghouls, the landscape became warped, it was Bad.

The only good thing to come out of the Spellplague was the Dragonborn, who were released from thousands of years of enslavement as a result of the blue fire blowing everything to shit. Hooray for the dragonborn!

Anyway.

Over the next hundred years, things calmed down and the magic… sort of returned, but there were a lot of changes to how magic worked. The Mother of Magic was a non-entity, her presence unfelt even by the famed Elminster of Shadowdale.

At least, not until 1479, when he found her possessing a bear and guarding a hoard of magic items she'd stashed while mortal.

She sent him out to go find new candidates to become her Chosen, and he came back a few weeks later after gorging on the magic of a few of Mystra's other Chosen and gave her enough juice to "return."

Three years later, the Second Sundering started when Bhaal's last two descendants fight to the death and resurrect him as a result.

At this point, ALL the gods are out there recruiting people to become their Chosen right, left, and center. It's a race to become the strongest god in the pantheon, with the winners being decided based on who has the most followers.

This goes on for five years, with the Second Sundering coming to a close in 1487. This was when Mystra became fully restored as a Goddess, with the Weave returning to its original strength.

Over the next two years, MOST of the gods drop their Chosen like they're hot and go quiet, resulting in the rise of clerics as mortals struggled to understand why the gods' behaviors changed so drastically from before.

Mystra was actually one of the few who kept in contact with her Chosen while a few others (such as Ellistraee and the Dead Three) chose to remain on Toril in Avatar form.

In the year 1491, Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep finds the Netherese Orb and has his silver flame (the mark of Mystra's chosen) consumed by it.

12 years after Mystra - once the mortal woman known as Ariel Manx - recovered from her near-death experience.

Please, I am begging you. Stop portraying Mystra the Ultimate Evil and Gale as her Innocent Victim. Their whole relationship is so much more complex than that. Mystra put so much trust in Gale and simply asked that he not cross her boundaries in return, and Gale, in his own words, "sought to cross [those] boundaries." He's a man who heard no and decided that he wasn't going to stop trying until that no became a yes.

I'm not saying Gale is the villain in this, but I am saying that both Gale and Mystra are complex individuals who are both flawed in different ways, and reducing them down to Good and Bad is doing them a disservice.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #mystra #bg3 mystra #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #d&d lore

258 notes · View notes

ghoulishlygrey · 1 month

Text

The New Mrs. Dekarios

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale Dekarios x Fem!reader/Tav

18+ MDNI

Tags: weddings, tailor!astarion, bride!reader, oral sex, cunnilingus, wedding fluff, praise kink, soft Gale, sorcerer tav

Read it on Ao3

Enjoy!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The Waterdeep breeze tickled your face and sent your veil from out behind you, gracefully floating on the wind. You had just stepped out from the tower, you were wearing your dream wedding dress. You felt so beautiful, the dress fit you like a glove and accentuated all your best features. You stared down the aisle and your eyes met your fiancé’s. He looked so handsome in his formal wear, a deep purple with golden accents around the sleeve and collar. He was misty-eyed as his gaze fell to you, a deep sigh resonating in his chest as he brought a hand up to swipe at his eyes. Shadowheart and Karlach were already at the end, standing off to the left. They looked wonderful in the outfits you had picked out for them, though Karlach looked a tad uncomfortable to be wearing something so fancy. You were glad to have fixed her internal engine, and were glad to have freed Shadowheart from her toxic faith. They both smiled at you from across the venue, sharing the same sentiments. Alfira and some hired bards play a lovely tune in the corner, waiting for the bride, you, to show up.

Lae’zel sat in the audience, not wanting to take place in such an event, she even used the word *istik* when asked about it. But she was here nonetheless, and that you were grateful for. Astarion unfortunately couldn’t be there, as your wedding took place during the day, albeit sunset. “I’ll show up to the reception, darling.” He assured you, putting another pin in your, at the time, too-big dress. Astarion had tailored it for you, his own little contribution to your big day and his own special way of being there for you. Withers stood in the middle of everyone, big book in hand and a blank expression on his decaying face. Classic. The teiflings you had slain the goblin leaders for made up the bulk of the audience, along with the remaining companions you picked up along the way. Wyll stood next to Gale, as he was presented with the honor of being best man. Tara, Gale’s tressym, sat on a pillow next to Wyll, two rings tied with twine around her collar.

As you began to walk down the aisle, you thought about every event that led up to this moment. What if you had never been abducted? What if you had never walked past his malfunctioning portal? You would never know, and would never want to find out. After everything you had endured, it seemed to be all worth it in the end. Worth it for this moment.

You finally reach the end of the aisle, handing off your bouquet to Karlach. It was composed of night orchids, a beautiful gift from Shadowheart that you just had to incorporate in your big day. She was one of your best friends, after all.

Gale takes your now free hands in his, fingers running over your knuckles. “You’re stunning.” He rasps, a familiar tone to his voice that stirs something within you.

“Thank you,” You reply, moving your hands to interlock your fingers with his, “You look very handsome.” And you meant it. You had never seen him wear something so extravagant and sophisticated, used to him wearing either light armor or his classic robes. He looked delicious, you thought, and if nobody else was here you’d drag his ass straight back into the tower and tear the clothes from his body, relishing in each button and buckle.

The fantasy doesn’t last long as you ground yourself and remember where you are. There was plenty of time for those shenanigans later.

“Let’s begin.” Withers says, tone as formal as ever.

“Welcome to all. We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of,” He says your name, “and Gale in holy matrimony.”

Withers prattles on with his speech, all the while you’re locked in eye contact with Gale. You’ve always loved his puppy dog eyes, big brown spheres that looked at you like you were the only girl in the world, a gaze that held you in such high regard. You give him a warm smile, one he returns with a slight chuckle, he was just so damn happy.

“Do you,” Withers says your name,”Take Gale to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

This was it, the moment you had been waiting for since the first words you had spoken to this handsome man. “I do.”

“And do you, Gale, take,” He says your name, “to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.” Gale says, words spilling from his mouth the second Withers was done with the question. He was clearly excited, a fact that made you blush.

“Now, the vows.” Withers grabs your attention, looking at you blankly but expectantly. You clear your throat, getting ready to address not only your lovely fiancé, but your massive audience too. Karlach hands digs in her suit jacket, pulling out a folded piece of paper and hands it to you. You nod in thanks.

You unfold the paper, trying to swallow the lump in your throat, you were nervous; you weren’t used to giving big speeches.

“Gale, my love,” you start, taking one of his hands while keeping the other one busy with holding the paper, “Ever since I pulled you out of that portal, I have loved you. I have loved you through our adventures, through our hardships, through everything we have faced. Even when you absorbed my rare magic items, which I still don’t know the logistics of, by the way-” That gets a chuckle from the crowd and Gale. His eyes were sparkling with unshed tears, a reaction that spurred you on to continue your speech, “-I have loved you.” You feel the tears in your own eyes now, you could just feel the love radiating from your lover as he stares at you, listening intently.

“My love for you will never falter, like a star; when I am long gone my love for you will live on through our poetry, through the friendships we’ve made, and finally it will live through you. I have not regretted a second of our journey together, and if it takes an illithid tadpole for us to be together, so be it. I know we can tackle anything that’s thrown our way, we’ve been doing an amazing job already. So whatever comes next for us, I’m glad it’s with you.”

You hand the paper back to Karlach, turning back to Gale and giving him your full attention. To start, he says your name, voice like honey as he does. “Before you I was lost, wandering through life without purpose. I never knew what real love was, what it could be like, what it could feel like. When I first met you, not only was I taken by your beauty but your kindness. You could’ve easily walked past that malfunctioning portal but you didn’t. Instead you calmed it with your talent in magic, and pulled me out. If not for you I would be lost, you are the leading light in my life, and you have been since the moment I laid eyes on you. You have continued to take my breath away with your courage, valor, and talent and I will love you until my last breath. I shall say it one more time for emphasis; I love you.”

“Tara, if you will.” Withers signals to the tressym, who gets up from her purple silk pillow to rub against Gale’s leg. He picks her up, holding her out so you can take the rings from around her collar. “Thank you,” Gale says into her fur before setting her down, Tara seems to nod before heading back to her pillow, settling in to watch the rest of the ceremony.

You hand your ring to Gale, holding out your left hand for him. He delicately takes your hand, sliding the ring over your ring finger, a perfect fit. It was your dream ring, everything about it was everything you ever wanted; everything you dreamt about since you were a little girl.

The ring you got Gale was also beautiful, it was silver with embedded amethyst. Purple, his favorite color.

You meet his gaze again as he takes your hands in his. You never knew a gaze could hold so much love and admiration until you met Gale, until you had this relationship.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride…” Withers looks like he very much wants to leave, or that he couldn’t care less, you couldn’t decide and you yourself didn’t care.

Gale gently moves his hand to cup your face, and your arms go to his shoulders. He pulls you closer before delivering a chaste kiss, sweet and simple. You return in kind, slotting your lips over his.

The kiss is over as quickly as it started. Everyone in the audience has risen to their feet, applauding you as you take your new husband's hand and head down the aisle and back towards the tower. As you did, you sneak a glance over to your lover who to your surprise is already staring at you. “What?” You ask him, cheeks glowing with a pink blush.

“I’m looking at the most beautiful woman in the world, the new Mrs. Dekarios.” He beams at you, and you beam right back. Soon, you come upon the tower and you reach a hand out to open the door.

“Ah, ah, ah, what do you think you’re doing?” Gale asks, putting his hand over yours and stopping you. “I’m opening the door? We have to get ready for the reception.” You glanced back at your guests, all of which were mingling, retrieving drinks from the various barrels and crates, and dancing to the music.

“We do this right or not at all.” Gale says, and before you can question what he means he’s scooping you up into his arms earning a surprised squeal from you. “Gale-!” You say, arms automatically linking behind his head and around his shoulders.

He gives you a wicked smile before kicking open the door and walking through. “There! Now we’ve done it properly.” He holds you in his arms for a moment longer, taking a moment to gaze upon your face. You take the opportunity to lean in and kiss him. The kiss starts out slow, so slow that Gale is able to delicately set you down without breaking it. However, it picks up quickly when Gale slides his tongue across your lips, requesting access. You allow it, opening your mouth for him, allowing your tongues to clash together.

You feel his hands skate up your back and your arms around his shoulder tighten, pulling him as close as possible. What he does next makes you gasp into his mouth; he begins to undo the corseted back of your dress, hands expertly undoing your laces. You know exactly what he has in mind. “We can’t.” You say, barely breaking the kiss to get the words out before diving back in. There were so many people just beyond the front door, all of which were waiting on you. Gale just smiles against your lips before continuing his unlacing. He halts the kiss when he’s done, leaning back to get another look at you. “I need you.” He says, voice dripping with lust. And boy, did you want him, too.

“But the others-” you start, turning your head to gesture towards the curtained front window.

“Can wait.” He cuts you off, leaning back in to make a trail down your neck with his mouth. You moan when he finds your pulse point, sucking lightly.

“Wouldn’t this be bad luck?” You chuckle, hands carding through his hair as he kisses back up your neck and towards your lips.

“I think we’ve had enough bad luck to last us a lifetime. The world owes us.” He says, pulling back from your face to look into your eyes. His were twinkling, pupils blown wide in want.

Your eyes glanced at the clock on the wall. The sun was setting steadily outside, the reception started when night overtook the sky. You wagered you had approximately twenty minutes of free time before people came looking for you. Your eyes drift back to his, and it’s like he’s almost reading your mind. “We have to be quick,” You start and you can see the excitement hit his face as it lights up. You slide out of your dress completely left in only your undergarments. He takes a second to take you in, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“I will ravish you properly later, my love, as you deserve. But for now I just need you, and you may have me in any way you desire.”

As much as you’d love to be full of him, sheathed to the hilt on his cock, you wanted to make this time about him, wanted to give him pleasure.

You sink to your knees in front of him and the shock on his face makes you chuckle.

“What?” You ask, hands making themselves busy with the buttons on his trousers. His hands fall over yours, stilling your movements.

“You don’t have to do that, this should be about us, not just me.”

“We have all night to make it about us but for now shut up and let me ‘ravish you.’” You quote him to himself and he laughs, removing his hands from yours and letting you continue your unbuttoning.

“I love you.” He says simply, gazing down at you with that familiar look, the look that made your knees weak and heart full. “I know.” You tease, finally pulling his trousers down his legs.

His erection is already fully present, restrained behind the fabric of his underwear. Your mouth instantly starts to water, just the thought of taking him with your mouth stirs something in your core.

You push the waistband of his boxers down and his cock springs free. You grip the base, earning a shudder from your husband.

“So perfect,” He coos, hand going to your head and massaging gently.

You just smirk up at him, making eye contact as you take the head in your mouth, tongue swirling around it and lapping up the salty precum.

Gale’s head fell back with a groan, and his hand made a slight pressure against your scalp, a silent asking of you to take him further.

You let him go entirely after that, if only for a moment.

“So impatient.” You scolded light-heartedly.

He chuckles, “You’re the one who said we have to be quick.”

You hum in response, going back to the task at hand. This time you do take him further, letting him in inch by inch. When you reach as far as you can, you wrap your hand around what you cannot, making sure he was covered entirely.

You felt your eyes flutter shut as you worked him over, tongue rubbing the underside of his shaft. You hollow your cheeks, creating a suction that makes him gasp.

“I fo-forgot how good you were at this.” He smiles down at you, the hand in your hair petting you. “Such a good girl.”

Something about his praise ignites something in you, shooting a wave of pleasure down to your core.

It spurs you on, encouraging you to take him deeper, bobbing your head and opening your throat as his head hits the back of it. You suppress a gag, your saliva dripping from your mouth and down his shaft.

He grunts and moans at every little movement you pull, whispering sweet little praises all the while.

“So good, such a perfect mouth on a perfect girl.” He manages to get the sentence out through moans and grunts, hand on your head tangling in your hair, following each movement.

It was just too much, the pressure between your legs grew with each word and sound he made. You reach down, hand disappearing below the waistband of your panties. Your fingers find your sensitive bud, making small circles around it and you moan against his cock.

Gale catches what you’re doing and it sends a steady blush across his face. “You look so good doing that.”

You whine, hand in your waistband moving faster with each breath you take. Soon you can feel his resolve faltering above you, his hips shaking and breath heavy.

“I’m going to-”

“Do it.” You momentarily slide from his cock to look up at him before continuing your languid motions.

With a few more head bobs, he’s there, releasing into your mouth. You take it in, lapping up every drop as it shoots in your mouth. Above you, he’s moaning, free hand over his mouth to keep himself from alerting everyone outside to your activities.

With a little pop, you pull off his shaft, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“I saw what you were doing down there, did you finish?” He asks, helping you up before tucking himself back into his trousers. “No,” You were honest with him, you didn’t have enough time to finish yourself off, but that was fine, that moment was supposed to be about him anyways. But when you look at Gale, he almost looks offended.

“Well, we can’t have that!” He says grabbing your hand and leading you to the couch in the living room. You gasp when he (gently) pushes you down onto the cushions and kneels before you.

“My lady,” He starts, grabbing one of your hands, “Allow me.”

You part your legs for him, allowing access to your clothed cunt. “If you insist.” You laugh, allowing his hand to slip from yours as he pushes your underwear to the side.

Even though he’s seen it a thousand times by now, he always is in such awe when he gets to see your sex, gazing at it and you like he was lost in the desert and your pussy was water.

He wastes no time diving in, licking one broad swipe up your folds. You mewl, back arching off the couch at the contact. He brings a hand to your lower stomach, keeping you firmly grounded.

“I have barely touched you yet you’re soaked, you truly are magic.” He says, momentarily watching you from between your legs. To him, you were magic itself. Somebody that he worshiped, someone that he loved. You knew all this, and returned it ten fold.

He turns his attention back to your aching hole, tongue dipping in as he makes another stripe. He starts to lap at your hole, tongue moving in and out at a steady pace. You moan, long and loud and it causes him to pop up once again. “We must be quiet, dearest. We don’t want them hearing us.” He chuckles, face glistening with your juices.

You laugh, making a show of you covering your mouth with your hand and beckoning him to continue. He does, diving back into your pussy with renewed vigor, lips coming to encircle your clit and sucking gently. You bite your hand, choking back a cry of ecstasy as he makes you see stars with his tongue alone. You gasp when he introduces his fingers, plunging one and then two into you.

He moves in and out of you rhythmically and you find yourself rutting against his face, moaning whenever his nose rubbed against your clit. You were chasing your high, relishing in the feeling of the coil in your stomach tightening with every thrust of his fingers. His fingers are stretching you out so deliciously you can’t help the tears that spring from your eyes. You curse mentally, you’d have to redo your makeup before you went to your reception.

A couple more plunges and you’re there, cumming around his fingers with a muffled scream. He laps at your hole more, catching every last drop of your orgasm. You collapse into the cushions, panting slightly as he moves to lay next to you.

“Now *that* was magic.” You sigh, head looking to the side to catch a glimpse of Gale who is already staring at you.

“Everything we do together is magic, my love.” He sits up, and you catch another glimpse of his beard, dripping with your slick. You blush, adjusting your underwear back to its proper position.

He stands, “Alright, up you get.” He holds his hands out to you, “We have a reception to attend.” You glance out the window, goddammit, you were already running behind schedule.

“Race you to the top of the tower.” You say, picking up your dress from its state on the floor and taking position at the base of the stairs.

“Oh, you’re on.” He says, running past you and up the stairs.

“I didn’t say ‘go!’”

You run after him, laughing the whole way.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

note: Thanks for reading! If you'd like to see more of my work don't forget to follow me here for updates and more fics.

#bg3 #bg3 smut #gale dekarios #gale x reader #gale of waterdeep #gale smut #baldur's gate 3 #gale x fem!reader #The New Mrs. Dekarios

251 notes · View notes

easy-there-leftovers · 5 days

Text

“While I hope that isn’t your intention, staring any harder at the fire won’t make it any stronger. No matter how accomplished you may be.”

You feel the muscles in your brows relax in the dark of the night. Interesting, that. Considering how you don’t recall them furrowing so tightly in the first place.

Hearing the scratch of shoes against stone, you feel him make himself more apparent, as he always did. Moving to stand beside you. Not resting his eyes upon your visage just yet. Choosing to study the dying embers you must have been glaring at in front of you.

He takes quite an awful amount of time in doing so, too. Whatever thought you might have been thinking about long gone from your grasp as his presence unnerves you.

You feel your hands clenching and unclenching to alleviate yourself.

Yet the very air around him still makes your head swim, and your blood boil.

He takes a deep breath, as if steeling his resolve, before turning to look at you.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Cut the shit, Dekarios. What do you want?”

He shudders at the use of his name, but raises his hand up in false surrender. Gesticulating with his arms and hands as much as he did when you last saw him this close up.

“I mean no harm, and I see no point in denying to remedy whatever rift may have come between us.” He motions to the both of you, as he speaks.

“Come now,” he moves to lessen your distance, but you only turn to keep facing the dying campfire as he continues.

“Surely whatever schoolyard taunts and transgressions exchanged aren’t worth jeopardizing our efforts in our search for a cure, hm?” There’s a hopeful lilt at the end in his voice. He looks almost sincerely apologetic as continues on. Words, lacking their usual garrulous nature, as if keeping things short and simple would appease you.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was apologizing out of the goodness of his heart.

“And who told you to apologize this time? Was it our fiery friend, or ‘The Blade of Frontiers?’ Or perhaps even our closest confidante; Astarion?” He raises a finger up with a confused expression to counter, but you beat him to it.

“With all due respect, Mr. Dekarios, we can go on our merry little way without discussing this.” You still refuse to look at him as you settle on admiring your nails for a change of scenery.

“Perhaps we’ll find some other fortune altogether and be rid of our parasites in the mornings that follow! And our little truce will matter not once we part ways and we both return to where we belong.” You finally move towards your tent to close your conversation, but Gale seems to ignore the implication as he follows you.

“You can finally return home to your beloved tower in Waterdeep, and I will be happily rotting in my little hovel.” You make one final tilt of the head to look at him, as if turning your whole body would be too much of an effort or grace to bestow upon him.

“Good night, sir Archmage.” You huff out as you disappear into the flaps of your tent without even letting your old classmate a chance to retaliate.

He stares incredulously at the still swishing material of your sanctuary. He releases a heavy sigh that built up in him and walked back to his own space in the camp to stew in his thoughts.

His eyes catching on the spyglass that he set up right outside his tent with disappointment.

If things had gone pleasantly, he would’ve asked you to observe the stars with him, as they were clearer to see from here than in Baldur’s Gate.

He distantly recalls you wanting for one during your academy days as the view from your little hovel, as he once called it, was rather murky. What with all the factories in the area.

He takes one last look at your tent from his and shakes his head.

It eludes him why you’re so hostile around him.

And even more so when you’re nowhere near this way around the others. He figured you two would be closer, given your shared interests and trade.

Hells, he even admired you all those years ago. Watching you accomplish so much, despite many difficulties. He wonders if you’ve ever respected him in the same way.

He sees Wyll looking at him, and he shakes his head to tell him that he doesn’t feel like talking. Entering his own tent to turn in for the night.

Hoping for any good that the gods can afford them come first light.

#bg3 x reader #I’m clearly not meant to write anymore #but I needed something like this out there at least #somebody please do a better job than me #gale dekarios x reader #bg3 #Gale x reader #gale of waterdeep x reader #gale of waterdeep x tav #gale dekarios x tav #gale x tav #gale of waterdeep #Gale dekarios #gale bg3 #bg3 gale #bg3 gale x tav #bg3 gale x reader #wizard rivalry?#wizard shit or something

101 notes · View notes