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When Gale came to as a God, his first order of business was to right a wrong. That fucking Netherbrain wrecked havoc on the entirety of Faerûn. It held Faerûn in the palm of its hand for the better part of a year and there wasn’t a place left on earth it hadn’t perverted.
With his council made, he set to fixing it.
There was Shadowheart, Astarion mainly so he could do the exact opposite of whatever he said, Jahiera, the Emperor, everybody who joined in destroying the Netherbrain was on this council. He was a God but he never wanted to lose sight of his humanity, believing it would keep him in check. He was a new God, not like the apathetic pantheon who much preferred watching Faerûn crash and burn rather than lift a single finger to intervene. A single wave of their hand, a single word from their lips, and the Netherbrain would have been destroyed. All that death and destruction averted.
Gale ascended before this very council. They watched as he took flight into the Valley of the Gods and shed his mortal chains of bondage and emerged a deity. All that mortal flesh only served to bind him. He could only go as far as his body would allow, and this would not do. His eyes became the eternal abyss, his voice the rumbling quake of the endless earth, his mind the tremendous power stored within the cosmos. He felt Shadowheart’s apprehension on earth, Astarion’s glee. They were among the first to receive his blessing.
There would have been a third, as the story went. But that brave soul perished in the destruction of the Netherbrain. His body cast into the Chionthar, never to be recovered.
*
In his fifth year as God, Gale took up residence in a palace within Baldur’s Gate. He had Mystra’s likeness destroyed within the city and replaced by statues of his own smug face. The people were happy to carry out his wishes. Afterall, who left their people to die? It was not Gale who was on the frontlines fighting through disgusting brain sludge.
It was nice to be back in the city. The Valley of the Gods was nice but he felt it changing him; being away from humanity for so long only made him callous to it, and the change was unwelcome. Shadowheart recommended he return to Baldur’s Gate, reacquaint himself with the people. Astarion was always happy to put him up, perhaps in one of the kennels?
Gale laughed. In his youth he would have said yes, but now he was a God and traveled with a procession. He magicked himself a palace in the outskirts of the city walls. Sprawling and golden with enough rooms for the friends who were too busy to stay in them. You couldn’t walk through Baldur’s Gate without seeing the palace behind you, hovering, always watching. It was no wonder crime was at its lowest in years. It was unnerving, knowing the God of the Karsite Weave was never too far behind.
In his golden palace he watched, never growing weary. Opening his doors to all. People traveled from all across Faerûn just for the chance to worship him, to obtain his blessing. Somedays he even roamed the city just like he did in his youth. He fit himself back into his human suit. No glowing blue eyes, no floaty business, none of that ancient blue toga with gold jewelry. He stopped into libraries and walked through the park, the flowers blooming as he strolled by. Jahiera’s children even accompanied him sometimes. Sometimes her grandchildren, holding each of his hands, still too young to go unsupervised.
Peace and prosperity. It warmed his heart to see it. The population exploded; city officials agreed to expand the city and focus especially on housing and social services. They needed more schools, more everything. Gale contributed foresight. Advising where to build and how much of it was needed. More of his likeness popped up across the city. All handsome. All accurate.
He returned to Jahiera’s home to drop off her grandchildren when he heard her voice rising through the front door, happy and excited. The kids barreled through the door and spilled out into the kitchen, babbling over each other, trying to tell their grandmother what grandeur thing Gale had done that day.
There, sitting with his back turned to the door, was a tiefling. Big and broad, he made the cup in his hand look tiny. The kids immediately pulled apart upon seeing him, wary of the stranger.
“Children,” Jahiera said, clapping her hands together. “This is my good friend, Tav. From back in the day.”
The kids lined up shyly and greeted the tiefling. He gave them a small smile and a handshake each before they fled to their safety of their bedroom.
Jahiera glanced at Gale still standing in the doorway. “Tav, this is Gale. Perhaps you’ve heard of him. Protector of Baldur’s Gate.”
Gale approached. Tav hesitated in turning to face him. He could feel it even at this distance. He smiled. “No need to be nervous. I don’t bite.”
“Why do you have to say that?” Jahiera complained. “It never makes anyone feel better.”
Tav smiled, crows feet crinkling handsomely. “I don’t know. That kind of helped.”
Gale laughed. “Did it?”
At last Tav turned, looking up. Gale met his gaze, those hellfire eyes typical of tieflings. “It’s a pleasure.”
Odd Tav hesitated when Gale could not sense any trepidation in his gaze, no usual nervousness typical of people when they met him.
“Tav and I fought together in the days of the Absolute. Side by side.” Jahiera reached across the table and punched him in the arm. “To this day I haven’t seen a better axe-wielder.”
“Oh,” Gale said as he tilted his head, assessing Tav. He could not have been a harper, but Gale asked anyway. “A Harper?”
“A friend of the Harpers.”
“An honorary Harper! Along with the rest of you!”
Gale enjoyed seeing Jahiera like this, proud and happy, unable to stop smiling. “This honorary Harper has to get going. I’m late for an appointment.”
Jahiera scoffed. “Gods make appointments?”
“If it’s with Shadowheart, yes.”
“Perfect!” Jahiera nudged Tav with her elbow. “Tav also has an appointment with her. The two of you should go together. Just be back for dinner, Tav. It’s turnip stew tonight.”
Tav remained silent. He and Jahiera stared at each other, his face flat and hers gleeful, until he broke. He stood. At full height, he towered nearly two heads above Gale. “Lead the way. I’m unfamiliar with the city.”
Gale looked up at him, alarmed by the sudden want jolting through him. He could not remember the last time he felt want. In shedding his mortal body, he shed the emotions with it. It was easy when it came down to it. He vowed to never take a lover after Mystra, and so far he had stuck to his word. This, though. Walking behind Tav as he ducked beneath the doorframe and folded himself through, the width of his shoulders filling up the width of the door, Gale felt a curiosity take hold of him.
Tav walked the streets silently. He did not try to sneak a glance at Gale, like so many mortals did. His posture was perfect. He held his head high and walked forward, ignoring the whispers that followed them.
“How do you know Shadowheart?”
“In the war.”
“Where are you from?”
Tav went silent. The gravel crunched beneath his boots, the shadow and light delighting across his face. Gale was not used to strangers ignoring his questions. Usually they jumped through hoops to please him, so open and transparent to him.
Gale hummed. “The strong and silent type, I see.”
They continued walking until they reached Shadowheart’s home, right in the center of the city. It was beige and unassuming, resembled like every other home on the block. You would’ve never guessed a war hero lived there. Tav stared at it, his expression betraying nothing.
Gale knocked on the door. One, two, three. A moment of waiting and the latch flipped, the door swung open and Shadowheart stood there, mouth open in shock, her eyes moving from face to face.
“I met him on my way here,” Tav said. “At Jahiera’s home. We are not acquainted.”
“Ouch,” Gale laughed. “I’m glad to know you feel the same.”
Shadowheart raised a brow in disbelief. “Well, come in. But first thing’s first—”
Tav embraced her, lifting her up and swinging her around. He buried his face in her silver hair and smothered her.
“Let go of me!” Shadowheart laughed, and despite it hugged him back. “I missed you too. I cannot believe you haven’t visited us in five years.”
Tav did not answer. He placed her down. His body shielded them from Gale’s curiosity. He could not see the look on Tav’s face as he reunited with Shadowheart, a good friend judging from the pure joy in her expression.
“Did you miss me? Shadowheart asked, keeping him on the hook. “You must tell me. How else will I know?”
“Yes,” Tav said. And that was that.
Perks of being a God. You never needed confirmation. You could gaze into the depth of a soul and obtain your answers, as true as the glint and heft of a silver coin.
“Well come in. Let me—gods, let me make you two a drink.”
“No need. Catch up with Tav, I will speak to you later.”
“Are you sure?” Shadowheart glanced between them again. “You should stay.”
Gale smiled. He slipped his hand into his pocket and thumbed at the ring he kept on him. “I would not keep old friends apart. Another day, Shadowheart.”
Now Tav let his emotions show. He followed Gale across the foyer as he left. Longing all over his face, his body. Gale nearly laughed at it. No one could resist the charm of a God. Tav was not immune to it, but he was unique in his inability to voice his desires. He hovered at the door as Gale opened it.
Gale turned to him and smiled. “If you ever have need of me, find me in my palace. It’s right at the outskirts of the city, you can’t miss it.”
Tav just stared, longing and hurt radiating from him like a furnace now that Gale was close enough to feel it. Poor tiefling. What made him hurt? Was he hoping paying a visit to his local God could fix it?
“The palace,” Gale repeated.
Tav part his lips. The palace, he said, like it was being torn from him.
*
The fifth anniversary of the war was coming up, and in honor of it Gale wanted to celebrate. Largest party this city had ever seen. Everyone was invited. His palace was larger on the inside, it could fit the entire city within it if he so wished.
He discussed the details with Astarion, enjoying his honesty. It was not that he could not lie, he simply did not care for it. Everything that came from his mouth was truth. Gale did not even have to check it, though early in his Godhood Astarion came to him lacking his characteristic arrogance, that devil-may-care attitude he mostly adopted as a result of his traumatic life as a fledgling. Astarion had come to him, equal to equal, and requested Gale seal his mind to outside interference. No mind control, no detecting his thoughts, no tadpole. And Gale, having understood the depth of his emotion, did as asked. Astarion gave him a kiss then, out of joy.
“We ought to invite the heroes of the war,” Astarion said excitedly, flapping a hand in the air. “Invite the whole city to partake! Let it be grand.”
“And what of food?”
“Oh you know. I wouldn’t say no to a fountain of blood but that’s just me.”
“I thought we vetoed the fountain of blood.”
“Shadowheart vetoed it. You have yet to.” Astarion smiled, white canines on show. “I suppose the people would never say no to hors d’oeuvres. Don’t lose sight of the true star, Gale. The alcohol. Wine, pouring from the ceiling! Barrels of beer! Waterdhavian cheese! To go with the wine, of course.”
Gale squinted at him. “Can you eat? I’m still unclear about that.”
“Not without my bowels exploding but ignoring that inconvenience, yes.”
Shadowheart made her arrival a good thirty minutes late. She took the lift up, a ride that took approximately five minutes and never failed to make her stomach sweep as she looked over the edge and saw how the floor dropped away into infinity.
Astarion watched as she got off the lift and walked onto the mother of pearl floors, so pure and white it reflected everything that came in contact with it, creating doubles of everything. “You’re late darling.”
“Sorry, Tav is visiting.”
Astarion bolted up from his position lounging on the chaise, nearly spilling the wine in his hand. “That traitor! Why didn’t he tell me?”
“He was going to see you tonight.”
Astarion relaxed. “He should come to the celebration.”
Gale could deduce who Tav was just through his friends, who coincidentally they shared. A war hero. Must have been a damn good one too. Astarion did not make nice with just anyone, and during their travels together Gale could not remember an instance where he willingly spoke to someone outside their quartet. A lover, perhaps, judging by his jealousy. But a lover would have sent word beforehand, in fact would have visited Astarion and not the long list of people he stopped by first.
“He is invited. Everyone is invited.”
Did he say something wrong? They both turned to stare at him, a gesture he could not decipher.
“Great,” Astarion drawled. “I’ll tell him tonight.”
“I hope you didn’t approve the blood fountain while I was late.”
“I nearly did,” Gale said, holding up his index finger and thumb, close to one another. “I was this close. Who knows, perhaps a minute longer and I would have given in.”
“I almost wish you had,” Shadowheart said as she approached, her steps echoing through the hall. “I would love to see how people would react.”
Astarion grinned. “From experience, not well.”
“Let’s set a date,” Gale said, steering them back into the right direction. “Perhaps in a week.”
“Perfect!” Astarion clapped and got up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an old friend to entertain.”
They watched as Astarion stood at the lift, waving his fingers goodbye as he was plunged below the floor. Shadowheart kept her eyes on the lift where Astarion once was, then abruptly turned back to Gale.
“Tav,” she started. “He fought with Astarion and I. He was a great warrior and an even better friend.”
“Are the two of you fighting over him? If so, do leave me out of it.”
She laughed softly, humorlessly. “Don’t you remember?”
He did not remember. Why was Shadowheart so hung up about him? She must’ve been sweet on him if she spoke of him like this. But how pure could it be if she hadn’t mentioned him in the six years they’d known each other?
“Remember what?”
A part of him piqued in confusion. He was not the type to forget a face, especially now. His memory sharpened, took flight, became a thing of its own with its power. Even as a mortal he did not forget. For a wizard knowledge was power, and it hinged upon how much you could remember. If you forgot a spell on the battlefield you were fucked. It did well to improve your memorization. Child prodigy he was, he had an eidetic memory.
“Did we cross paths?”
“Yes,” she said. And in her voice, sadness.
Gale touched the ring in his pocket. Turned it over and over again, feeling the soft curve of silver against his thumb.
*
Though his palace was open to the public, hardly anyone came. The line had been much longer in the beginning, but by now he worked his miracles. The only people seeing him journeyed across the land, tough and perilous, and only arrived every other day. Mostly, Gale was alone in his palace. All by his lonesome self. Though, Gods were not supposed to be lonely. Gods were self-sufficient. Islands unto themselves! To be a God was to be perfect. Every negative emotion was imperfection. Yearning, loss, hatred. You could never deign yourself to feel these emotions. All you could ever feel was elation.
Gale took to reading in his spare time, a hobby he kept even through his ascension. He read his favorite works and found new meaning in them. During his first year as a God, he briefly returned to his home in Waterdeep. This was where Shadowheart sent his belongings from the field even after he instructed her to destroy them. Stubborn she was, believing items from his past ought to be kept.
He opened the creaking door to his home to see nothing had changed in his absence. The mahogany shelves still bursting with tomes in every color. The rug on the floor his mother had weaved for him, still pristine save for the right corner were his tressym dug her claws in and unwove the thread. The fireplace, still containing the ashes of a log. In the center of his home, the war chest.
He knelt before it and opened the lid, carefully removing the contents, assigning a memory to each belonging. His old gear. The gambeson with a hole in it when an assassin tried to run him through and pierced through his breastplate, leaving a nasty wound. Only stopping when he came upon his favorite poetry collection, handbound by an artisan in the Southern Ward. Old ghosts. He remembered feeling silly as he brought it with him. Would he even have time to read? Most of all, was he adding unnecessary weight to his pack? Astarion laughed when he saw it. Love stories, darling? To war? You are quite the romanticist.
Gale cracked it open, the ancient spine groaning as it fell open to where it was bookmarked. The low orange light of Waterdeep’s sunset glinted along a ring holding the page to his favorite poem.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
He held the unassuming ring of silver up to the light and captured the disappearing sun. The inscription read loyalty not fear. It would have been pressed close to his skin. When he placed it upon his finger, it fit perfectly.
He once tried to glean the origin of the ring. There was no magic tied to it. A wizard, hoarding a ring that had no purpose? You’d never heard of such a thing. It was a plain silver ring forged by a novice. The blacksmith deduced the ring had been made of smelted down silver, meaning it once was something other than a ring. Gale wondered what. He may have been a God but he did not forget the human tradition of gifting your beloved a ring of precious metal.
There was a knock at his door, pulling him out of his thoughts. He removed the ring from his finger and placed it back in his pocket. He instructed the doors to open and teleported himself to the greater chamber facing the entryway. There was nothing there except a statue of him, looming and mystical, set there to greet all those who came through.
Tav stood before this statue, head tilted back to witness the entirety of it. The look on his face unreadable. War hero and all, a good poker face just came with the deal. Gale did not expect to see him, even though in hindsight it was obvious he would come. The look on his face as they parted led Gale to believe he would not survive the night let alone the week.
Gale paused before he showed himself, wanting to examine Tav. He was handsome. Like, super fucking handsome. More than anyone he’d ever seen before. Tall and big and strong, twin horns curving out from his forehead and a horizontal scar slashing across the bridge of his nose. His long black locs braided through with red pulled back in a ponytail. The pretty sepia of his skin, rich like the earth. A handsome devil indeed.
He revealed himself right at the top of the endless stairs, having shed his human skin. Eyes glowing a cool blue, infinite in their reach.
“You came.”
Tav looked up at him in neither admiration nor fear. Not saying a word, forcing Gale to go on.
“I must say, I did not expect it.”
“Then why invite me?”
Gale smiled. “In hopes that you would, as you have. Come to me.”
Tav did not move. He stood where he was, faraway. It took a God to hear him from such distance.
“What is hurting you?” Gale cajoled sweetly, relentless in his attempt to draw Tav forward. “Did you come in hopes I would fix it?”
He lifted his shoulders. Such an odd juvenile instinct to comfort himself, making him seem much younger than he was.
“I cannot help you if you do not tell me what it is.”
“I am sorry,” Tav said plaintively. “I should not have come. Excuse me.”
Gale watched as he left, his back receding into anonymity, back to the city. As he left Gale got the idea to reach into his soul, and as he tried the attempt backfired. Blew up in his face horrendously. It took strength not to fall to his knees and nurse his pain. What in the Gods? He cradled his throbbing head.
He recognized the pain. He once tried on Astarion after sealing his mind to both mortal and God, a sadistic attempt as he’d known what would happen. This was his will as God, to protect Astarion. He made it so any prying eyes would be punished aptly, a fire exploding in both mind and body, incapacitating anyone who dared to try Gale’s Blessed. Only Gale had not blessed Tav. If not him, then who? Who else had the power, the gall.
The name burned itself on Gale’s tongue, mocking.
Mystra.
*
Mystra was not happy Gale ascended. Perhaps she was protective of her status as the only God of Weave. She was not happy Gale found power in the very object Mystra sought to control, and if not control then destroy. In defying her, he achieved Godhood. Now, what would she do if her followers came to the same conclusion? It was not looking good for her.
Petty jealous Mystra. It was like her to send a mortal like Tav to him, so much his type it was like he walked straight out of his dreams. To do what, punish him? He was no longer in her reach, she had no right. They were equals, perhaps Gale had even risen past her in his power. She was not fit to judge him though this did not stop her from trying.
No matter. He had other things to think of.
The day of the party, the city was in high spirits. Gale covered the city in a sheen of golden shimmer, unfurling floating scrolls announcing the time and place of the celebration. Astarion reported back happily, saying the people could not stop talking about it, picking dates and outfits. Speaking of which. He did a twirl. What do you think? Gale scrunched his nose. It’s a bit too, oh I don’t know. Murder-y?
Thank you dear! Astarion kissed his cheek and continued on, mainly to instruct Gale to put the food over here and the drink over there.
This was a good thing, to be sure. A celebration reminded people of what once was. The mindflayers skulking through the city, unstoppable. He would remind the city of the near extinction level event. It would bring the people together, make them stronger, if ever the threat returned. That was the point. He would not have planned the celebration if there was no goal.
The gates opened, and in came the people. A colorful tapestry in the otherwise white and gold monstrosity Astarion described his palace. They waltzed in, the city uniting the many races and beliefs of Faerûn, bringing color and peace to his palace. The people looked to him for an introductory speech, falling silence as he stood at his place above the stairs.
“My friends, this is as much a celebration as it is remembrance. Let us honor those who fought in these very streets for the freedom of Baldur’s Gate. Let us remember the bravery that carried us that day to peace and victory, let us remember so that we defeat all who dare to march upon these gates again!”
The people cheered, so loud it shook the earth. Astarion popped the cork and the wine flowed, kicking off the festivities. Gale sat above it all and watched as the lovers he cheered on at last found each other and waltzed across the floor. Astarion found Shadowheart in the crowd and spun her around, inviting her to dance. He felt drunk off the euphoria, feeling the emotions in the air flow into him like sustenance.
He spotted Jahiera in the crowd pulling Minsc who was pulling Tav. She looked pretty, smiling like that, making eye contact with Shadowheart over the crowd and dropping Minsc’s hand, weaving through the people to get to her. Minsc stood guarding Tav who was a much bigger deal than Gale had anticipated. Apparently he was a household name. People flocked to him, eager to shake his hand. He obliged, smiling. Looked like he meant it too.
Tav was wearing a plain black shirt and trousers in stark contrast to everyone who dusted off their finest threads for the occasion. Gale smiled, imagining Tav in one of those outfits and looking miserable. He wore no jewelry. Unadorned as the day he was born, nothing but the red jewels of his eyes. He graciously spoke to everyone who approached him, only ignoring Astarion and laughing as he did it, turning around to apologize.
Gale whispered within his ear. Softly, “Excuse yourself. Accompany me.”
Tav furrowed his brow. He turned and found Gale sitting atop his throne, eyes following as he disappeared, warping away.
Gale blinked out and back into his garden. The lush land welcomed him back, leaves rustling happily. Above, an aurora colored green, blue, purple. Casting its light across his land. He was often mesmerized by it. He spent hours here. Perhaps it was stupid, egotistical. Casting an aurora just to watch it for days, enamored with the beauty he himself created. He watched until he felt Tav approaching, the light of his creation finding Tav, casting him in the colors of the cosmos. His bright red eyes peering out, not a single trace of curiosity within them.
“You continue to surprise me. I did not expect you to come again. Did you not think I would find out?”
Tav was still. He did not look afraid. Excited, perhaps.
“You are Mystra’s beloved.”
Just as quickly as the excitement had come, it disappeared, leaving Tav bereft. He looked up to the sky, like he was searching for something. “What made you think this?”
“Your mind is protected by her. It can neither be read nor tampered with.”
“And you know this because you tried to read my mind,” Tav said, incredulous. “The Gods are petty indeed.”
“Petty?” Gale hissed, the aurora disappearing. No pretty trick of the light, no garden. He plunged them into abject darkness. “You step inside my palace bearing the protection of my enemy and you would dare call me petty?”
Tav sought him in the dark. There was not much separating them. Gale could have pushed Tav to the other corner of the universe and left him lost and searching for the remainder of his life. He should.
Tav’s voice was gentle, low and rumbly. “How would I know if I bore the sign of a Blessed?”
The shroud dropped. The garden returned, the smell of the night, though Gale scared away all the creatures. “You do not know?”
“I have never been in the presence of a God.” Tav paused, then reconsidered. “Except for you, I suppose.”
Gale tried to feel through his confusion. How was it that he was almighty and still Tav confused him? Tav could be lying, there would be no way of knowing.
“Then why?”
Tav retreated into himself. Suddenly, he looked uncomfortable. “I believe I received the blessing long ago. I did not even know until now. I wish I was not closed to you. I would invite you into my mind, so that you could see for yourself.”
His words rung true. Sincere and hopeful.
“Could you?”
“No,” Gale said. “It cannot be undone.”
“Ah.” Tav turned away. The line of his shoulders turned inward with grief, the subtle tremble to his breath. “That is unfortunate.”
All signs pointed to affection. Gale was hit with the knowledge that Tav would jump into his bed if asked. So he did.
“Spend the night with me.”
“No.” Tav with that emotionless look, made just to protect him. He was not surprised at the whiplash characteristics of the Gods. You could incur their wrath one moment and their love the next.
“Why?”
“Do you always require a reason?”
Gale could not help himself. His gaze slipped downward to Tav’s mouth. He did not always. He did not ever. “No. I have not taken a lover. Not since I ascended.”
Tav tilted his head. Slow and calculated, like a snake. “You would make me your lover, even after just one night?”
No. “Yes.”
Tav looked on in disbelief. “But you do not know me.”
“I could. If you knew me, then you would say yes.”
“I know you,” he said tenderly. “My answer is still no.”
Ouch. A critical blow to Gale’s ego. He watched as Tav left the gardens and returned inside to the droves of adoring fans. He could not believe it. Who else had the good fortune to be propositioned by a God? He could have given Tav whatever he wanted. Fame, fortune, the whole nine yards. He roared, tearing himself up, destroying his garden and setting fire to it until at last he calmed.
Mystra had propositioned him. It would have done him a world of good if he rejected her. Tav was right. Even becoming a God hadn’t granted him the gift of insight, of empathy. He just could not believe it. There truly was a mortal in existence immune to the allure of godliness. A mortal better than he ever was. A tiefling with many secrets, it seemed. Each more complicated than the next.
He reran the events of that day within his thoughts obsessively, trying to understand what went wrong. As far as he could tell, he had done nothing wrong as to warrant Tav’s rejection. The palace was magnificent, the people acted as if they’d been put under a spell just by sheer proximity to him. The night was magical, as they said.
He paced the Valley of the Gods in thought of Tav, hoping to find clarity in a different plane of existence. He did not. He could find nothing wrong and so concluded if the investigator found nothing wrong in the face of an obvious offense then it was the investigator who was wrong. Once more he left his home and walked among mortals, arriving at Jahiera’s home. No, she said. He’s with Shadowheart. One of his dearest friends harboring the tiefling he obsessed over night after night for what seemed like a thousand nights.
Gale went to her house, walking slowly this time, wanting to take his time and unravel the facts. He was being obsessive, not a good thing for a God. Tav rejected him presumably because of his godhood. There was no way about it.
He knocked on her door just as he’d done all the times before, except today it was Tav who opened the door. Standing there shirtless, his body the pinnacle of creation. Gale stopped himself from thinking a prayer.
“Gale?”
“I came to apologize. I am not sure what I did wrong the night of the celebration, just that I know I have wronged you. I am sorry, truly.”
Tav gazed down at him, his face running through the gamut of his emotions, unable to find one to settle on. “You did nothing wrong.”
“Then why do you regard me so?”
“It’s me,” he said, so sincere Gale knew it must’ve been true. “The fault is mine. It does not concern you.”
“And what if I wanted it to concern me?” Gale asked, hopeful. “What would you do then?”
Tav’s expression. A thousand things at once. Hope, hope, hope. Fear. Resignation. “Do you feel any different?”
“I do not.”
“If you did, would you tell me?”
“I would.”
Tav fidgeted slightly. If Gale had not been paying attention, he wouldn’t have picked up on it. “Swear to me.”
Gale did him one better. He waved his hand, sealing it in magic, so he would have no other choice but to be compelled to it. “I swear to you.”
“We can be friends.” Tav smiled. A small little thing, so precious it made Gale hurt.
Friends! Gale could do friends. He liked his friends now and was sure Tav would be an excellent addition, especially when they became lovers. The prospect was right at the horizon, Gale was sure of it.
*
Tav was only ever visiting the city, Gale knew that now. He had responsibilities back home in Emerald Grove. The short month he spent in Baldur’s Gate visiting his friends was a dream, and now he had to return home.
Gale did not know what to say. Admittedly, it would be difficult to convince Tav to love him if they lived so far apart. But Tav would not stay. Could not. He had responsibilities to his home, his people. His status as warrior hero admittedly bolstered the public opinion of tieflings, and he sought to keep it that way lest his race be persecuted once more. A noble pursuit, Gale said in parting. Tav smiled at him. Sure, noble.
I’m not sure when I will see you again, Tav admitted. Gale was not so worried. There were many ways he could see Tav, should he be welcomed. Thus Tav went off, journeying back to his home, travelling significantly heavier with souvenirs and gifts.
They hadn’t even been acquainted for long. But Gale was obsessive, a dog with a bone. You could not shake him off your trail, even at the ends of the world. He pushed his mind out to find Tav knowing it would fail, that there would only be emptiness there. Whichever God that blessed him had done a thorough job. Still, there were ways around this. Gale found a sweet tiefling family traveling from the city to Emerald Grove and attached his consciousness to theirs, delighting in their delight, reveling in their revelations, especially when they arrived and he caught Tav in their periphery. He jumped from mind to mind, wanting to find the one closest to Tav. He became a dog a crow an ant and followed Tav wherever he went, dutifully trotting flying crawling after him.
Mostly he enjoyed being a dog. A big white dog like the one they used to travel with. A Scratch dog. Tav showed him special attention. Petting him with both hands, smoothing down his fur and murmuring at him. On one memorable occasion laying a kiss atop his head. He thought he could be a dog forever, then. But he wanted to love Tav the way only a man could.
A half-year, just like this.
*
Tav was a curious tiefling. He was the face of Emerald Grove no matter how unwilling he was. He did not want the attention and what came with it. Multitudes of eligible suitors, hoping to wed him all because he confided once in an elder, confirming that he did want to have children, that he did wish to marry. The rumor caught fire. Tieflings flirting their heart out, unaware of the awful look on his face.
Why should he ignore the longing stares? Gale was once in his position. The renowned Wizard of Waterdeep. The title did not come without its perks. A new partner in his bed each day, access to the most exclusive of knowledge. He indulged daily despite his mother’s warning, that his power and fame would eventually attract the wrong person. She normally would have been happy to gloat but when that particular fortune came true all she had the strength to do was hold him.
So it seemed Tav was wiser than he once was. His self-control was admirable. Perhaps he was a virgin, waiting to consummate the marriage. Otherwise uninterested in the pleasures of the flesh, though Gale would soon be proven wrong.
One night Tav touched himself. He must’ve been in rare form; Gale had been present for all nights and he’d never felt the urge until now. He wrapped a hand around himself. He looked—good. Gale wove his web and sat within it, waiting. Watching.
Tav’s mouth fell open in a moan. He worked himself just below the head, tightening his fingers into a ring and humping into it, breath low and wet. It sounded painful. Did he need help? Would he like it if Gale materialized to help him get off?
Gale didn’t even need reciprocity. He could lean between Tav’s strong thighs and mouth at the seam of his balls, slowly jerk him off. Take hold of him and feel the weight and wetness of his dick pass across his life line, fate line, all the fucking lines of his palm. Eventually when he came Gale would drink it down. He could imagine it now. His mouth around the wet head of Tav’s dick, savoring the taste on his tongue before swallowing his salt. It wouldn’t be over then. It wouldn’t be over all night. If Tav wanted Gale could fuck him. If not, Gale was equally desperate for the reverse.
Just—a little. Even that was fine. Gale, on his back, guiding Tav in. Just the simple sight of Tav above him, encircling him, would be enough. He could bust from it. He knew he could. Just the head. Just, just—
Tav groaned as he dropped his head onto the pillows. The moonlight cut through the darkness and alit him in its pure shine. His hoarse voice speaking life to his fantasy. Gale, he pleaded. Gale.
It took tremendous strength for Gale not to show himself in that moment. He nearly failed. Would have if he stayed for even a moment longer. Instead he retreated and regrouped. He pulled his consciousness back into one piece and paced his palace, the Astral Plane, his home in Elysium. Tav, thinking of him? Obviously it was flattering, and he was flattered. But he also knew it didn’t make much sense. They’d only spoken for all of fifteen minutes if you consolidated it. Gale obsessed because it was his very nature as a God. He obsessed over details. The fabric of the newly created Karsite Weave, his hair, his statues. He would live to see an eternity. Without details, there would be nothing to occupy his time.
Though he supposed even this was not within his character to obsess over a mortal. Perhaps it was about time. After Mystra he did not have it in him to even touch another soul let alone take another lover. The only physical contact he engaged in those days was cuddling Tara, petting her as she peacefully slept upon his chest despite the danger lurking there.
He knew it when he saw Tav sitting in Jahiera’s home, surrounded by her family’s belongings and the beautiful tree in her study whose branches crept outward into the kitchen, held in perpetual blossom. He felt it then. The subtle shaking in his chest, his belly, that he had not felt since Mystra. Desire. Would this be his end? Infinite power combined with the mind controlling, mind bending quality of desire could only be bad, even a God could not fight it. A God’s greatest enemy tended to be themselves for a reason. Even so. This did not stop him from wanting. It did not stop him from scratching at Tav’s door, sleeping on the floor beside his bed, chasing after each stick he threw from his hand and dropping it back at his feet.
Come to find Tav wanted him back, however little. It could not be a trap, right? Tav was not that kind of tiefling, otherwise he would not have made it out the war without selling his soul to any number of thralls promising him power and wealth. He must’ve been worthy company. Gale would see for himself.
He arrived in Emerald Grove on the day of the new moon. Halsin looked at him like he was staring at a ghost, blinking his wide eyes. Gale inspected him, surprised to find he looked much older than he remembered.
“Halsin,” Gale greeted. “It has been a while.”
“A while?” Halsin laughed, boisterous. “It has only been six years. Now that you are a God, that cannot possibly be much time to you.”
It still was. Time did not flow differently up here. He figured it had to do something with his age. The longer the lived, the more time became inconsequential. But as it currently stood, he was only in his forties. It would take many more years before time flowed indiscriminately, the years bleeding into centuries.
“Let me show you around the Grove,” Halsin said, steering him toward the fields. “You’ll be pleased to know things have changed around here since you last visited.”
Things were indeed different. The Grove was not limited to the cave where most of the tieflings lived, separating them from the druids. Tiefling and druids coexisted. The little cave shanty expanded to the size of a town now, expanding far beyond the cave and the wooden gate Gale remembered sliding under as it closed above him, nearly decapitating him.
Tiefling children ran about, chasing after a druid bear, brushing against his robes. It truly was different. Halsin had a new way about him, the success of the past six years having put both weight and muscle and happiness on him. He showed Gale the newly constructed library and all Gale could do was tamp down the embarrassment. He must’ve flown by all this and still saw nothing. Tav eclipsed all else in his mind. He could not see past him. How effectively Tav commanded his waking day, so much so Gale assumed he was under a particularly powerful spell. But Tav was not a magic user. He stayed upon this earth. He toiled it, nurtured it, and in a scant few decades would return to it.
Halsin took him to the construction projects past the library, toward the edge of town. He pointed out the wooden frame of what would soon be the local shop, but Gale was not listening.
Tav worked within the frame, hauling lumber inside. He placed it down and straightened his back, wiping the sweat from his forehead. The day was scorching but clearly not unbearable. Tav drank from a waterskin, tilting his head back, Adam’s apple bobbing along the long path of his neck, as he drank the blessedly cool water from the endless receptacle. He stopped. Capped the waterskin and looked to Gale, like he knew exactly where he would be.
Halsin slowly backed away, having the good sense of an animal and knowing when to back off and when to stay.
“What are you doing here?” Tav asked, a heat flush to his handsome face.
Better make it plain. He was not here to play games. “To see you.”
Tav turned away like he’d been burned. He said, Gale. Just to say his name, just to feel it in his mouth. “You have seen me. What now?”
Gale tilted his head. “Now I would like an invitation to your home.”
Tav looked to him. Now, Gale thought, I would like to make love to you in the Weave. “What if I do not want you in my home?”
Then it would be too late for I have already been inside it. I have nudged at your hand, your face, to wake you from your nightmares. I have let you hold me so that you could fall back asleep. I have watched as you touched yourself to the thought of me.
“Then you would be lying to yourself.”
Pain crossed Tav’s face. A horrible deep pain. “Tonight,” he said as he looked to the waterskin, empty now. “You may come to me tonight.”
*
That night Gale magicked a feast and heard the thoughts and desires of each resident in the Grove. They were all ordinary things. They wished for this home to last till the end of days. They never wanted to feel fear or hunger again. All this Gale granted. A simple wave of his hand and Emerald Grove was now under his protection. The libations now flowing toward him. Asmodeus would be upset having lost his precious playthings, he would likely invite Gale to duel. No matter.
They held a toast in his honor, tiefling and druid alike singing his praises. Only Tav was the odd one out, not even bothering to show up. This apparently did not bother Halsin, who ordered every soul in the Grove to attend. He treated Tav specially, that much was clear.
The tieflings hailed their their new patron God until Gale excused himself. He teleported away and appeared not too far away before Tav’s home. The door was plain and unassuming, and past it Gale could feel Tav’s presence. He knocked.
“The door is open,” came Tav’s voice.
Gale tried the doorknob. It gave beneath his hand and twisted, allowing him inside. If not for the glow from his very essence, it would be dark in the room. Tav sat on the bed, watching.
“If you will be in my home, I only ask for you to shed this God appearance.”
Gale did as Tav wished. The glow dimmed from his eyes, his body, until there was only darkness. His eyes adjusted to it, saw Tav in the gloom sitting on the edge of his bed, his face neutral.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
Gale placed his hand in his pocket and touched the ring. “All night your people have asked something of me, everyone but you. Tell me honestly. Is there nothing you desire?”
Tav looked over to the mantel, gazing out into some distant place. “I was told even a God could not bring back that which I lost.”
“I would try.”
“You would fail.”
The walls began to shake, rattle. This did not scare Tav. Not even when a wind appeared in the center of his room, whipping and roaring, Gale at the center of it, controlling it, subject to the horrors of his emotions.
“You would do this to me?” he howled. “You would prefer to wallow in your pain, live the rest of your pitiful life in misery? So be it! You will have what you wished for!”
Tav stood, pushing through the gusts, walking barefoot across broken glass and reaching Gale. Grabbing him by his robe and shoving him out the door. Gale stumbled across the threshold, very nearly falling, only catching a glimpse of Tav’s face as he closed the door and locked it, as if a simple lock could stop a God. That look could though. Anger and sadness in equal parts.
The wind stopped. The rattling gone. Just Gale reckoning with the consequences of his actions, pitifully scratching at Tav’s door. He pressed his forehead to it.
“Please open the door,” he begged. “I’m sorry.”
No response. But he could still hear Tav moving, his bare feet on broken glass.
Gale prowled outside his door. A God a man. An ant a crow a dog. Walking back and forth, to and fro, until he was sure Tav would answer. He whimpered and scratched at the door. Cried and cried. His ears perked up at the sound of Tav’s footsteps, the flip of the latch and the beam of light emerging from the crack of the door.
He sat upright, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Tav dropped to his knees and hugged him, the heat of his chest searing.
*
Gale sent a myriad of apologies to Tav. Gifts the likes he’s likely never seen before. The preserved head of the giant lurking beast of the Underdark, which Tav promptly regifted to the children across the way. Precious rare stones set in gold and silver meant to adorn the ears, the neck, the wrist, the fingers. These he sold and added to the Grove’s emergency funds. Rare tomes, one-of-a-kind scrolls that now belonged to Halsin. He equally had no need for textiles or fine clothes. Swords and axes of old heroes went regifted; he had his own sword and axe which he preferred.
Still Tav would not see him. Halsin informed him sheepishly. But the rest of us are really enjoying your gifts, thank you very much. Gale scowled.
He returned to the city, where upon Astarion laughed at him. “If I were the object of your pursuits, I would ignore you till the day I died. I cannot believe you conjured a category five hurricane in his home, you freak.”
At least Shadowheart went easy on him.
“You cannot throw a tantrum each time he questions you. You definitely cannot if he rejects you. It’s just bad form.”
“I am a God—”
“Yes!” Shadowheart interrupted. “I know. But hells, I knew you before you regained an inkling of magic and you were not like this then. You were not so arrogant.”
Astarion pointed at her. “Yes, exactly. Arrogance was your downfall. Rejected by your Goddess, yada yada. Then in your darkest hour we lifted you back up, and now lo and behold! The arrogance is back again.”
“I am a God. If I am not arrogant I am nothing.”
“You said you would be an altogether different God,” Shadowheart said. “You hoped to never be so deep in your arrogance again.”
Gale covered his face in his hands. “I remember.”
“Look, you’re going to have to leave all your biases behind if you want another chance to speak with him.”
Astarion raised his glass. “Hear, hear.”
Though, apparently Gale did not hear. He visited all four homes in search of something worthy to gift to Tav. No jewelry, no art, none of that. Tav did not have a use for it. He went shopping in every market in Faerûn in hopes of finding something. He purchased a wagon full of exotic foods and had it sent to Emerald Grove, where he received it and examined each fruit for blemishes, turned over each cannister of tea to check for dents. Halsin came up behind him and nodded in approval.
“The tieflings are going to love this.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh nothing,” Halsin said hurriedly. “I just think Tav is just going to send this away for the town to enjoy.”
Gale tossed the cannister back into the heap of goods, waving a dismissive, disgusted hand at it. “Just take it now.”
Halsin brightened and pushed the wagon toward the town, attracting a crowd of children as he went on his merry way, doling out the fruit and candies Gale had chosen for Tav.
He had been mortal, once. Before Mystra he caught the attention of many suitors. Gift giving was his specialty. There was not an instance where he failed. He’d given many gifts and received his fair share, he knew what made a gift precious. So why spurn him? Why spit in the face of his obvious effort?
Gale called upon both mortals and immortals to take a poll. Why, the Gods said, it must be an item of tremendous value, something gold and shiny. This was a common idea also shared by mortals. Though, if that wasn’t an option, you could never go wrong with food. Well you could, Gale snapped. I did. Well then, it sounds like he does not care for your attention. You should leave him be.
An uncomfortable thought, one that he could not accept. He wanted to be in Tav’s good graces, just as Tav was in his. He longed for his acceptance as much as he longed for peace. What could fix it? Was it even capable of being whole again?
Gale returned to the home he last found Tav building, the ring growing warm in his damp palm. Tav was still there, this time sitting atop the roof and shingling it, holding nails in his mouth. The home was nearly finished now. Tav must’ve seen him coming. He hunched in defense and turned away from the direction Gale approached.
“I am sorry,” Gale said, standing within Tav’s shadow, the closest he would ever be to him. “Surely you must know this. Were my gifts unsatisfactory?”
Tav removed the nails in his mouth and hammered them along the edge of the shingle one by one. He made no attempt to acknowledge Gale.
“I know I broke your mirror. Have I not sent enough replacements?”
Nothing but Tav’s scorn, the rhythmic pounding of the hammer. His silence was answer enough.
“Please tell me what have I done to earn your wrath and I will beg your forgiveness.”
Tav turned until Gale could not see his face. Just his back, strong and corded with muscle. Always Gale watched Tav walk away from him. He hated it.
“Please,” Gale begged, his hands supine. Showing Tav his underbelly. The hands that craft his blessings, his love. “Won’t you grace me with your attention but one last time?”
At last his words moved Tav. He faced him. Backlit from the sun, eclipsing the sun, the sun itself. Yet still he remained silent, watching Gale fumble.
What could he do, to keep Tav’s attention? He remembered Shadowheart’s advice. To leave all his biases behind, that fucking arrogance. He was not a God because he was arrogant. He was a God because—because.
“Will you accept my final gift? If it does not please you I will go away forever.” Gale gripped it tightly, wanting to hold it one last time. “I keep it on me always. Daily, I cherish it. I have blessed it, so that it may shine for an eternity.”
He removed his hand from his robe and unfurled his fingers. Revealing, in the palm of his hand, the unassuming silver ring. The sun caught on it, the ring glimmering. Tav surprised for once. Gale whispered the inscription to himself, twisting the ring along the words.
Tav climbed down. He wiped his hands clean and slowly approached, the ring appearing in the reflection of his eyes. He did not take the ring just yet. He flicked his eyes upward, meeting Gale’s.
“Does it please you as it pleases me?” Gale’s heart picked up, being so close to Tav like this, so close he could pick up the gentle clean smell of him. “Will you forgive me?”
Tav took the ring, his fingers ghosting against Gale’s palm. He stared at it. He did not twist and turn it or hold it up to the light. Merely stared, like he was looking at something beloved. Something he never thought he’d see again. He pressed his thumb to the inscription. Closed his hand, ring disappearing from Gale’s sight.
“I forgive you,” he exhaled. Breathing out all his pain, his sadness.
*
Gale began hanging around Emerald Grove more now that Tav allowed him to be close. The locals no longer saw him as a distant God and delighted upon seeing him. After they said their hellos, they would direct him to the last place they saw Tav. Sometimes down by the river checking the traps, sometimes building, rarely shopping at the caravan market up north. Gale found him no matter where he was.
Today, he was fishing. He walked along the river barefoot and pulled out the nets and crab traps, emptying them into wicker baskets. Gale lounged on the riverbank and watched, appreciating Tav shirtless.
“Would you like more fish?” he asked, eyeing the empty baskets.
Tav sighed and straightened his back. “That would be nice.”
“Ask and you shall receive! Well, technically you did not ask but you shall receive nonetheless!”
Gale clapped his hands. The baskets bumped and wriggled, water pouring out from the weave. The fish hopped and flapped and took the baskets with them. Tav laughed as Gale rushed to stop the baskets from hopping away.
“And now who will help me carry all this back?” Tav asked, turning that smile on Gale. “It cannot be you, who weighs less than one of these baskets.”
“I suppose it will just have to be you. My, I wonder how many trips you will have to make.”
Tav twisted Gale’s arm behind his back before he could even muster up a defense. Gale grunted, a zip of pleasure warming him.
“You would not leave me on the road defenseless would you?”
He laughed, allowing himself to be manhandled as Tav applied pressure and guided him to the baskets. “I promise you, being defenseless is the last thing you have to worry about.”
Tav released his hold. “You speak as though you’ve seen me fight.”
“I don’t have to. I sense your power in your physicality, the way you move. Besides. Don’t think I haven’t heard your war tales.”
Tav hoisted up the baskets, two to an arm, as Gale snapped his fingers and lifted the baskets with an invisible force. “And what do you think of these tales?”
“That they are mostly true.”
“Then what is false?”
Gale smiled to himself. “You are much sweeter than the tales say. Much kinder.”
“You must have misinterpreted the decapitations.”
He laughed, thrilled, glancing over his shoulder to see the shy look on Tav’s face. “I don’t believe I have.”
Mostly he enjoyed visiting Tav at night. The day had its own charm, but Tav was always preoccupied with work. He did not take days off. He worked until sundown. It was only night when Gale had his undivided attention, when they took long walks through the fields and listened to the bugs sing. Tav’s hair down from his usual ponytail, locs framing his face and part by his horns. Gale welcomed the sight of him softened by the night. Much more relaxed, more willing to sit in silence.
They laid in the grass and gazed upon the Gods’ greatest creation. The cosmos. Stars studding the great endless bowl of the sky, drawing one another into clusters and creating the great river of the universe, putting off enough starlight to light the way. No torches or magic. Just Gale pointing out constellations and Tav pretending to remember what was what.
“And this is the Goose. Do you see it?” Gale framed it within his hands.
Tav squinted. “Where?”
“Over here. Doesn’t it look like a goose?”
Tav laughed, warm and indulging. “I’ve seen a goose. That does not look like a goose.”
“You would not know a goose if it hit you in the face,” Gale said. “Look harder.”
Tav laughed and laughed. Their shoulders touched as he moved closer, trying to look within the perimeters of Gale’s hands. “Look harder? What does that even mean.”
Gale turned to face him. His handsome face in the night, so close that Gale would not have to lean far to kiss him if only he turned.
“You dropped your hands,” Tav said, turning with a smile. “How will I find it now?”
You might never find it, Gale wanted to say. But he did not want to ruin the moment by saying something funny. If only he could immortalize this feeling. Bottle it, so that he could gift it back to Tav to ingest and finally understand how Gale felt when they were together.
“I like you,” he found himself saying, so gentle and sincere it even hurt him to hear.
Tav’s face burst open with sadness. His eyes big and sad. “I cannot.”
“Why?” Gale touched his face, fingers finding his jaw and stroking him there.
Always asking why. Why, why. Mouth open around the word beseechingly, wanting to know why Tav made him feel this way when previously he had no want for a lover, no want for answers for he had them all already.
“Would you let me kiss you at the very least?”
Tav’s eyes grew wet and his voice round with tears. “Yes.”
They met one other halfway. Gale holding Tav’s face, hand slipping from his jaw to the back of his neck. He was not out of practice like Gale thought he would be. His mouth was warm and wet and slow the way Gale liked, but he was crying. Gale blot away his tears with a sleeve, gently patting his face dry until Tav caught his wrist.
“Will you take me to bed?”
Gale kissed him. Murmured, yes.
Normally he would ask if Tav wanted to make love in the Weave. It was something he offered to all his partners. And he did try to ask, but they materialized in Tav’s home and Tav was stripping down to nothing and said, do not ask me if I want to fuck you in the Weave, and Gale wisely did not. He wasn’t going to, anyway. Not when he saw Tav naked, already half-hard.
Gale got his hands on him and fucked him slow. Went in like it was his last day on earth, patient and thorough, stamina like a horse.
“Ugh,” Tav groaned, curling a hand around the back of Gale’s upper thigh. Sweat behind the pit of his knees. He pant himself hoarse. Ah, ah, ah.
Gale dead silent, sensory overload. His balls swinging against Tav’s, slightly tacky from sweat. He did not know where to look. The dimples of Tav’s lower back, the flexing muscles of his shoulders as he tried to hold himself up. Gale kissed the back of his neck, feeling him tense up, moan, and relax.
Tav tried to kiss him, their mouths brushing as Gale fucked into him. Trying to look into his eyes like this. Gale pulled out and readjusted, turning him over onto his back and lining his dick back in, pushing in with one long stroke. Tav’s mouth falling open wordlessly. Gale should have known he was not the type to make much sound while having sex, but the sound he did make he certainly meant.
Gale could touch now. He pressed his thumb into the groove of Tav’s abdominal muscles. He dragged his fingers up and pinched Tav’s nipples, trying his strength until the pain on his face dissolved to pleasure.
“Ugh,” Tav said. “Ugh.”
“What is it?” Gale murmured, leaning close so that Tav would see nothing but his face flushed with pleasure. “What do you need?”
“Just.” Tav gasped, pupils dilating, seeing Gale but something even further.
“Just what?”
Tav tightened like a bowstring, crying as he came from the incessent pressure on his prostate. Gale waiting it out patiently, braced above Tav, until he wrung himself out and turned boneless and pliant. Gale kissed him slowly, lovingly, and made his way down the bed. Tav was trying to pull him off, trying to squirm away, but he really needed this. He pressed his face to Tav’s balls, smelling him there, kissing him, eating up his mess. Tav gasped and pushed a hand into his hair, gripping tight. He gripped him right back, hand on his balls.
He did not even have to finish inside Tav. This was good enough. Tav was hard muscle all over except here. Incredibly soft and velvet against his mouth. He fucked his fist as he sunk his fingers back into Tav, feeling the warmth and wetness and busting immediately upon the thought of sinking himself back in there.
He sat up, dazed. Tav tried to laugh but his voice came out hoarse, mangled. All he did was reach a hand out and Gale came, slinking up against him. He could get used to this, he thought as he nuzzled Tav’s chest, his face. Tav’s breath grew even, quiet, as he fell asleep.
Gale touched his eyes, his nose, his lips. Thinking to himself all the while. Why did you cry? You are not so emotional as to cry when a God you do not love confesses to his affection. Gale slowly got up and extricated himself from Tav’s hold, careful not to wake him.
It was strange, walking around Tav’s home as he slept. His footsteps did not make a sound. His robe did not rustle as he put it back on. Everything he touched did not make a noise, he saw to it, releasing the weakest pulse of his magic to absorb all sound in the room so as to not disturb Tav.
There was nothing really to see. Tav lived an efficient life, to the point where it was brutal. The walls and shelves were bare. The sword and axe immortalized in his war tales were nowhere to be found, hidden. A single plate and fork and knife sit on his dinner table. Gale passed his fingers over the metal plate in wonder. Why did he choose to live this life? He must’ve been lonely. He was mortal so he would not live much longer and yet he dragged his feet, rejecting every admirer who came to his door.
Gale stroked the table where Tav took his meals. Walked to the shelves and touched those too, sliding his fingers across and gathering up the dust, thinking of how he would decorate Tav’s home. He would fill it with things Tav liked and would come to like. Animals and children, rugs and multiple sets of dinnerware, books as far as the eye could see. He came upon the fireplace mantel and set his hand upon it, surprised to find it had been dusted when the shelves had not.
He slid his fingers across the wood, and in the center of the mantel he saw a pair of rings. Hardly noticeable in the dark. Gale came closer, bending to get a better look.
One was his gift, the silver ring. The other.
Gale tilted his head, inquisitive. The other was made of magic, forged by a powerful finicky Weave. It would have taken a magic user of great power to harness the Weave and bend it into something physical let alone a ring. He focused on it, pushed his mind into it and saw its construction, the familiar pattern of the Weave flowing and interlocking, composed in such a way Gale’s mind stirred in recognition. He ceased pushing and pulling and opened his mind to it. Relaxed, and let it come to him.
The Weave expanded and flew out all around him. The emotion of its creator rushing into him. Love had made this ring, a horrible fear. Because he did not think they would live to see the day. At the very least he wanted to leave behind something made of only love, so that when it was worn his husband could feel that he had been loved dearly in spite of everything. Perhaps in another life, Tav. Would you like that?
The warmth of the Weave snapped back, receding so quickly Gale was left with the residual emotions within the ring, choking him. He had the ring in his hand and could see, scrawled on the inside of the band, the inscription.
Across the room, Tav lifted himself up onto his elbows, blinking slowly. “Gale?”
He did not respond, not in the shadows like this, hunched over Tav’s rings like a demonic possession.
“Gale?” Tav said again, his tone urgent now that he could make out Gale standing by the mantel.
Gale could not remember. That forth person who fell to their doom in the Chionthar after driving his axe into the Netherbrain. Their funny little quartet traveling across Faerûn and raising hell wherever they went, a motley of rejects by the time they reached the end of their journey. All he could remember then was how badly he wanted the crown but that, too, had fallen into the river, ice-cold like the realization that came over him now.
“The crown,” he said.
Tav said nothing, and in his silence confirmed the truth.
“Did he know?” Gale asked, trembling. “To use the crown you must sacrifice.”
Silence. A deep and yawning silence, devouring all else in the world, so opaque Tav struggled to break it when he found the right words.
“Not until he had it. Not until I recovered it and gave it to him.” A truth so wretched he spoke it to the ground.
“You gifted him worlds upon worlds and he surrendered the memory of you,” Gale said, empty even to his own ears. “How did he tell you he was forsaking you? Did he go to his knees, did he beg for your forgiveness?”
Tav was crying now. He could not even look at Gale. A man of his size and stature and fortitude crying over a love cut short. The pain as he held himself, crying as if he’d lost something irreplaceable and not just his man. Then Gale knew.
“He didn’t tell you,” he said, in horror. "He left you to discover yourself."
Tav looked at him in neither denial nor confirmation. But that look on his face. Nobody had ever looked at him like that, like they might die if they couldn’t hold him.
"And you continue to grieve him? You would grieve this small man, this—this thief?"
“Leave,” Tav said wretchedly, his voice nearly gone. “Please, leave me be.”
Gale looked to the ring in his hand, its partner on the mantel, and did as told.
*
Gale retreated to his palace and resolutely did not leave. The weather turned foul. Dark cloudy skies, enough rain to drown a city. The people looked up and chattered, concerned about the wellbeing of their God. The offerings increased. Fruit and meat decorated his altar daily, none of which he consumed. He normally returned these to whence they came or gave it to Shadowheart if she showed an interest.
Today she did not. She squeezed past a gap in the gate and jogged up to the palace, knocking. Gale could not hear her above the howling wind, the sound of his own wallowing. She skulked around the perimeter of his palace and eventually climbed and squeezed her way in, and when she found Gale facedown in his favorite chaise she pushed him off.
“Stop with the wind and rain!” she demanded. “You’re ruining my hair.”
Gale rolled onto his back and peered up at her. “It looks fine.”
“It could be better.” She laid down beside him and stared at what he stared at, the impossibly tall ceiling. “What is wrong with you?”
“I sacrificed Tav for this power. But you knew, didn’t you.”
“I did.”
“Why did you keep it from me.”
Shadowheart placed her hand upon his. She was sweet, gentle. Since she discovered Shar’s lies she became stronger, and in that strength found kindness. “He said once he ascended he could not see Tav again. That once he sacrificed the memory of him and harnessed the power of the crown, seeing Tav would unravel what he had done. I am not so sure I believed it, though however true it was Tav accepted it.”
He wondered what he looked like in this moment. Miserable and wretched. Shadowheart had never touched his face before and she did now, their eyes meeting.
“I will never forgive him for having me deliver his final message to Tav. I never saw him as a coward, but in that moment I did. And final impressions are indeed final. Everlasting, to the grave.”
“And how am I now?” Gale asked, imploring. “Did Godhood change me?”
“You are are different, yes. But you regained your arrogance tenfold. You did not become a God because of your wisdom or power but rather because Tav loved you so greatly he emptied the Chionthar to bring you peace. A mortal made you what you are.”
Gale searched her face for answers. She must’ve known because she smiled.
“The answer will come to you as it always has. But you must rise and stop this rain nonsense.”
He could feel his mood lifting, parting the clouds with it, and revealing the sun. He had much to do. He had to test the validity of Shadowheart’s statement, though just as she was skeptical so was he. It was possible for a spell to unravel upon seeing its progenitor, but he’d spent days on end in Tav’s presence and nothing of the sort happened. He would’ve felt it coming from a mile away.
So then, why? Power was not so easily earned if you were mortal, power like this. The crown would have been his window in, but he could not have absorbed the crown without needing more strength, more everything. He drew on the one thing that gave him strength. His memory, and in it the star feature, pulling and pulling at it until it unraveled, leaving the lost part of him detached, untethered, and looking on in horror. There would be no way of undoing it, not the power he gained and the power he lost.
And here the truth was, clear as day.
He ordered Tav not to show himself again not because it would unravel what he had done, but because he did not want his love to suffer again. Gale was a serial heartbreaker. He was not the kind of man you could settle down with. Maybe he used to be, but any resemblance he shared with his human-self would disappear he ascended. He wanted to save Tav the trouble, the inevitable pain.
He stared at the truth now, felt it fall over him in disgust, in agony. He did this? He did all this? Tav who had him ascend to godhood. He could not believe he chose to forget him. He wanted to reach back through time and strangle the version of him who looked Tav in the eye and still decided to do it.
Still, Gale could not help himself. He returned to Tav and sat patiently at the base of Tav’s newest construction project until he was noticed.
“You came back,” Tav said, pleased. He looked thinner, sleepless.
Gale whined and laid on the ground, head on his paws. He closed his eyes as Tav pet him, his big hand covering the entirety of his delicate animal’s skull. He wished he could purr. Perhaps he should have come to Tav as a tressym, only he got the feeling Tav fared better with dogs.
“I should put a collar on you,” he said fondly.
Gale barked, tail wagging. Yes! He thought. A collar, a ring, a bangle, whatever you want. Whatever is in your custom, I will gladly reciprocate and don till the end of times.
Over Tav’s shoulder, someone called for him, drawing his attention away. Gale whined again.
“I will be back,” Tav said. “Just stay here and wait for me.”
Gale obediently sat and watched Tav walk off and speak to a druid. He returned not too long after with a collar in his hands, the little metal tag with Gale’s new name on it jingling as Tav fastened it around his neck.
“To be honest, I had the collar made already.” Tav smiled. “I was just waiting for you to come back.”
Gale whined, butt Tav’s hand until he was pet again.
He gradually made his way into Tav’s bed, sleeping first at the door and pretending to guard it. He listened to the sound of Tav’s sleep, the persistent nightmares. He inched closer and closer each night. The door, the room, the space below Tav’s bed then the foot of it until he was nestled right by his side. Tav did not have as many nightmares when Gale slept next to him.
Most days Tav was in good shape. He would walk right past the mantel and start his day, always glancing over his shoulder to make sure Gale was following. Where he went Gale was never far behind. The children would scream in delight whenever Gale play bowed and chased them, pretending to nip at their heels. A beloved dog of many talents. He could swim and play fetch and find lost children who wandered too far from home and bring them back to their parents without so much as a scratch. The townsfolk pet him as he passed, as if in reverence. Love had made him revered, he knew that now.
Other days Tav could not resist touching Gale’s ring. He would be sleepless, eyes staring up at the ceiling and seeing nothing. Gale would pretend to sleep beside him, only stirring when Tav gave in and carefully moved Gale aside, quietly walking over to the mantel, footsteps so silent you thought he might’ve been floating. He would hold the ring to himself like he was trying to absorb it, a widower in mourning.
Gale could not stand it anymore, being close like this and not close enough. He did not want to come to Tav as a dog and watch him grieve. He wanted to heal him, do what time could not and close the wound. He blinked his animal eyes. Heard himself whining, the sound ripping itself out from his throat, high and keening, until Tav turned to him.
His body unfolded, stretched, and cracked back to a human, the form Tav preferred. Not the God with the omniscient eyes. His vocal cords shifted and the collar choked him; he got a thumb under it and pulled harder than he intended, ripping the leather band off his neck, the name tag chiming.
“What—” Tav backed up, confused and more then a little disturbed.
“Forget him,” Gale said, head bowed, growling his words like the dog he pretended to be. He stared at the broken collar in his hands and fused it back together. “He cast you away into this darkness and I watch as you mourn him, this man who does not deserve your love.”
“You pretended to be a dog? What in the hells—”
“I ate,” he said, he spat and growled, “from the palm of your hand. I drank what you drank. I would not forsake you, I would not let harm befall you, I would ascend you if you would allow it. Would you not love me?”
Tav looked on in silence. Handsome sleepless man, his hair long down his shoulders, moving as he moved.
“I would not lie to you,” Gale went on. “As he lied to you. That if you approached me again, you would undo me as a God. All lies.”
Tav froze. “He lied?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
At last, the tables turned. Tav asking him why, as if he had a damn clue. If he cast Tav into this darkness then he also cast himself in to try and catch Tav on the way down. Who knew what the hell he was thinking, that he could actually pull this off? That he would not see Tav again and not reignite, not hound after him endless day after endless night into eternity?
“You knew him best,” Gale said, anger going away from him. “Why do you think?”
“He wanted to spare me the pain,” Tav said, mouth twisted in grief. “He thought I could move on.”
“And did you?”
Tav wiped his tears away with both hands. “I love you now as I loved you then.”
Gale went to him, dropping the collar in his haste. Tav opened himself to him. Allowed himself to be kissed tenderly, to be held.
He could not believe someone loved him this much as to transform him into a deity. Not when in the beginning his own God used and abandoned him so mercilessly. Then he did not believe love was real. If the Gods created Faerûn and all races to occupy it, then surely the created could not be much better than its progenitor. He knew now he was wrong. There was Tav who loved him when he was at his lowest. Loved him even when there was no one there to love.
“I love you,” Gale whispered. A thunder rolling across the Grove, booming, and a deluge breaking free from the dark sky. “Gods, I love you.”
“Show me the depth of your love.” Tav dragged his mouth slow across Gale’s cheek, his jaw.
Gale did, that night. Tav held him down and rut into him, covered him entirely. Did not let him go even as he came, big and shuddering, merely fucking him through it. And when he was done he turned over and watched Tav in wonder, his handsome face in pleasure as he spent.
They laid together in Tav’s narrow bed and listened to the rain as it thinned and gently pattered against the window. Gale content and nestled close to Tav’s side, remembering he had something to return.
“I have something of yours,” Gale said.
“It better be my ring.”
Gale laughed, pulling it out of thin air. “It is. I would like mine back if you are amenable.”
Tav got up and took the ring from the mantel, Gale staring at his ass the entire way. He sat on the edge of the bed and beckoned Gale closer till they were sitting close, thighs touching. Tav turned the ring over and over in his hands.
He took a deep breath and spoke gently, taking Gale’s left hand in his and sliding the ring onto his finger, “Love is not love which alters when alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove. It is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken.”
The rain cleared, revealing the pale grey sky, nearly coming to blue now.
Gale took Tav’s hand and set his ring back into its place. Marveled at the sight of it. His magic adorning his husband. “Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom.”
He grasped Tav’s hand, their rings touching, turning not silver but gold in their reunion. Gold even when they parted, gold for an eternity.