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None of you left the Shadowlands whole. Yet even among your ragged bunch, the shift you see in Gale has you worried.
It could just be your closeness that makes him stand out. Not that you don’t love the others, in their own ways. But you spent weeks studying Gale as the two of you danced your clumsy courting dance. If his shoulders sloped a hair lower than usual, or if the skin under his eyes darkened half a shade, you would notice.
Your knowledge is wasted, however, as even the least astute at camp could see that he wasn’t himself. At first, it was a general anxiety. He would flinch every time he saw the sky, as if he expected it to fall, or for a bolt to come down and smite him where he stood. Then, as he realized the ground beneath him wouldn’t give way, his dread turned to manic obsession: with the Crown of Karsus, and with you.
Through his unending monologues about the artifact’s potential, he couldn’t let you leave his sight. Not for a moment. In the rare times when you insisted on privacy, he would keep conversation through the door, or tent flap, or bush, working himself into an immediate panic if he felt it’d been too long since he heard you.
So far you’ve been more than willing to accommodate his attentions. You’ve been through a lot yourself, after all, and tending to him has been a welcome distraction.
But after defeating the Githyanki ambush, you know - he knows - it can’t go on like this.
You knew it was a risk, coming within melee range of a fully armored enemy. But the surprise attack didn’t give you time to prepare your ranged spells and your final target was weak enough that, if you were lucky, you could finish him off with one swing of your newly acquired magic sword.
But you weren’t lucky. Your unpracticed movements were clumsy and your shimmering blade skittered uselessly off of pristine silver armor, leaving you wide open for your foe’s much more experienced counterattack.
You heard Gale’s desperate shouts long before you registered the pain of the blow.
You turned to him as you staggered back and saw his twisted expression illuminated by the sparks growing between his hands.
Lightening Bolt. Your eyes dart to Shadowheart, who was struggling to maintain concentration through her own injuries.
And standing in the direct path of Gale’s attack.
He’s not looking at her. He doesn’t see. Nothing in his once-gentle face but blind fear and blind fury.
You manage to counterspell his move just before it can reach its unintended target. Shadowheart startles and whips around to Gale, who returns her horrified expression. With everyone, including your enemy, distracted, Astarion is able to deal a final sneak attack with his crossbow and put the battle to an end.
Little is said in the moments after it's over; a few healing words to stitch wounds back together, simple instructions to ensure loot is distributed, but the long walk back to camp begins and ends in silence.
It’s only hours later, when all of you are settled around the fire, that Astarion finally breaks the quiet tension.
“I still can’t wrap my head around what you could have possibly been thinking, Wizard.”
Having not found a wine to his liking this evening, he instead jangled a bottle of rum in his hand, using it to gesture with only some of his usual grace towards Shadowheart, “I trust you’re aware that’s our only healer you almost disintegrated.”
Shadowheart is still staring silently into the fire, sitting with her arms gently holding her knees to her chest.
Given the time he’d had to prepare, you’d expected Gale to have his most eloquent response at the ready. But only stammers came to him:
“I didn’t-” He thinks better of his phrasing, “Gods, there wasn’t -”
“He was just trying to protect me, Astarion,” You try to interject.
“Leaving you to protect us from him.” Shadowheart’s voice is quiet. She doesn’t look up from the fire.
Us , she said. Not me.
Astarion, in contrast, is all petulance and venom when he turns his focus on you. “Don’t you start. I refuse to endure another moment of your coddling, and I certainly won’t take lectures from the fool who thought to impress by playing with a sword she’s never used!”
He stands so he can look down at you, “Pretty a thing as it is, dear, access to your cunt is a pitiful excuse for friendly fire.”
“I think you’ve had enough.” Gale cuts in exasperatedly and stands, extending a hand toward the elf’s near-empty bottle.
Gale’s movements are slow and his words have no edge to them, yet for the briefest moment, you see panic flash across Astarion’s face. His familiar sneer quickly replaces it, but he makes no effort to have the last word. He shoves the rum into Gale’s hands before stalking off to his tent. Gale deflates and sighs sadly. As he sits, he offers the remnants of the bottle to Shadowheart, but she won’t meet his gaze.
For long minutes, there is nothing. The day’s second silence.
They’re afraid of him, you realize. Surely they know it was an honest mistake? It wasn’t like none of them had ever gotten caught in the crossfire of battle before. Every fighter in your group was guilty of the occasional reckless cleave attack. Hells, Shadowheart openly threatened Lae’zel at knifepoint and the two had talked it out by morning. And obviously, death is unpleasant, but with Withers always at hand, it’s hardly permanent.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Shadowheart.” Gale says, finally finding his words.
Shadowheart stands and looks strong, though her eyes are still unfocused.
“I know you are. Although I’m not of a mind to forgive quite yet. I just upended everything to escape My La-”
a breath.
“...Shar’s push towards darkness and pain. Yet you would have given me both today, left to your own devices. That can’t be fixed with a kind word.”
You see Gale's brows knit together. You watch the journey of his face as he makes the same realization you did, and keep the same arguments to himself.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I lost myself.”
That was the wrong thing to say, apparently. Shadowheart’s misty eyes suddenly focus and her quiet control slips ever-so-slightly.
“And what about before, in Moonrise? You were ready to take our lives into your own hands and blow us up with you. Did you stop because you considered for even a moment how desperately the rest of us wanted to live? Or just because she ,” her head tilts toward you but her eyes stay fixed on Gale’s, “told you to.”
She waits for him to respond, but all he can do is stare at her, then the ground, then you.
Shadowheart looks to you as well. “What happens next time? What happens if you aren’t there to stop him?”
There’s nothing you can say that would comfort them both. Not that was true, at least. You look between the two of them. Shadowheart, despite everything, is standing strong. Her fear burns hot, tempered by anger and passion. But Gale’s is frozen, threatening to shatter him.
So - in that moment, as forever - you choose him.
“I’ll always be there.”
You meet Gale’s eyes and give him a warm, tired smile. To your great relief, he returns it.
Shadowheart balls her fists at her side and breathes deep, a small tremble in her exhale as she fights her emotions back down.
“For all our sakes, I hope you’re right,” she says, resigned, before walking back to her tent as well.
Once the sound of footsteps fades, Gale takes your hand in his. A third silence falls.
It somehow feels longer than the other two combined, although no more than an hour could have passed. By the time Gale finally speaks, you’re laying with him in a joined bedroll by the fire and sleep is starting to darken the stars.
“I am the luckiest man in the world.”
You didn’t have any particular expectations of the first thing Gale would say to you. But still, that takes you aback. You give him a searching look.
You can see him trying to reorganize his thoughts. Clearly, he had already been several tangents away from the point before he began speaking.
“I would have doomed the world.” is where he chooses to begin again. “Not just this one. Every plane of existence was at risk. Every source of authority, every sense of morality I had told me that the only choice was to detonate the orb - end the Netherbrain then and there - no matter the cost. And yet I chose you.”
You feel yourself growing defensive. Does he regret the choice he made? Resent you for saving him? “They were wrong.” You say, sharply, “You knew they were wrong.”
He pushes air out his nose in an amused half-chuckle. His hand brushes through your hair. “No, my love, I didn’t know that. But it wouldn’t have changed my mind if they weren’t.”
You don’t understand what he means. You sit up and catch his eyes, hoping he’ll continue.
And he does, sitting up himself and returning your gaze intensely.
“If you had said to me, plainly ‘I want you to let the Netherbrain run rampant. I want you to make that choice, knowing it will destroy all that is known. For me.’ I would have done it. And if you had said ‘Use the orb. Raize the tower and every living creature in it - all your most cherished friends - for no other reason than I desire it.’ I wouldn’t have thought twice. Such is my love for you.”
Now it is your turn to chuckle. You are about to make a jab at his tendency toward dramatic overtures when he grasps your hand to recapture your attention. His voice is becoming more urgent. He needs you to understand.
“Today, with the Githyanki. Shadowheart is dear to me, and I would never wish to do her harm. But if you gave me the chance to try again, my actions would be the same. You were hurt and I would do anything, cut through anyone, to pay back a single mark that’s made on you.”
You run your thumb soothingly over his grasping hand and do your best to speak softly, trying to ease him out of the lather he’s worked himself into.
“Don’t say that, Gale. Don’t talk like you don’t care.”
“Caring is not the issue.” His eyes dart around as if the right words could be found floating in the air between you. “It’s this fear. Ever-present, gnawing, cloying fear.”
That brittle look returns to him. “I was ready to destroy myself for nothing more than the whisper of a chance at Mystra’s forgiveness. What chaos might I wreak if the one whom I love a thousand times more, is taken from me? I would commit follies Karsus could only dream of. I would rend the cosmos apart until consequence and reality turned to dust in my hand. Just to keep you near me, keep you safe.”
You try to reassure him as you did before. But you feel the chill beginning to claw at your heart as well. You’re afraid too, you realize. You’ve been afraid for him since the moment he was charged with his own sacrifice.
He doesn’t see. Your brilliant, stupid love.
You don’t notice your tears until he reaches up to brush them away. It feels odd, to be offered comfort by someone who needs yours so much more. But his body seems to soften as he tends to you.
“Fear has to be cruel.” You say, hoping it sounds reassuring rather than accusatory. “It whips at your back to get you to run faster. It’s selfish to keep you alive. Yours just needs some recalibration, let me help you! I promise you’re so much more than you imagine yourself to be.”
He shakes his head. He doesn’t see. But he smiles.
“I’m not so sure about that.” He brings you close to steal a quick kiss. “But you, my love - my beautiful, brilliant, shining north star - you are the best of us. If I am to live only by your guiding light, it would be an honor.”
No. No, you have to make him see.
“You weigh your worth against a handful of grand choices.” You begin, “Yet, with all you’ve been through, the greatest thing you’ve ever done is wake up every day and choose to live , despite your burdens. You say you live for me, but I don’t tell you to breathe and eat and put one foot in front of the other. Those are choices you make every moment and every one of them is a miracle!”
He stares at you in awed silence before you bring your lips back together. You pour into the kiss all your love and your dreams of a life he can choose for himself. It's many minutes before he finally pulls away.
“See? The luckiest man.” He says, a little breathlessly “I tell you I would do anything you asked, and your only request of me is kindness for myself.”
His hand moves to cradle the side of your head as he continues. “How deeply I want your words to be true. I suppose they must be, since you say so. Though that’s the crux of the issue, isn’t it? What then, would I be without you?”
“A good person.” You respond, “The best man I know.”
“I’ll allow that I may be someday, if you’ll permit me the time. I’d like to become the man you see in me. The best I can be, for-”
You interrupt him with one last kiss, stealing the words from his mouth. Maybe he still can’t see, not yet, but you will always be there to remind him: “For you. ”