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renegade-skywalker · 2 days

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Home is Wherever I'm With You

Summary:

Sometimes home isn’t a place, it’s a person.

Word Count: 7,876 Rating: T

~~~

The last Gale saw of a sunset, he thought it would very well be his last.

He’d glimpsed a few in fragments from the corner of her eye on the road since then, most of its brilliance blocked out by the mountains separating the no longer shadow-cursed Reithwin from its sister city, Rivington. The rosy glow of the setting sun limned the horizon in the most spectacular way in its own right, but it was a different view entirely to watch as swaths of molten gold spread over the yawning valley from the topmost tower of the ruin they found refuge in now.

The world felt so unfathomably cosmic in the brief moment before the sun dipped over the far edge of the earth - and in a way, it all felt new again. Just as Reithwin was awakening from a century-old slumber, an older part of Gale awakened alongside it. One he hadn’t thought of in a very long time, and one he had unfortunately almost surrendered to a world entirely apart from this one, one he was only reminded of again upon visiting the conjured version of his tower.

He sighed at the view, almost anticipating his chest to ache at the sight of it. It did, in a way, but it was sweet and solemn, not wracked with arcane hunger as he was so often used to now…

But just as unease settled at the corners of his mind at the thought of it, a warm set of arms snaked their way around his waist, a copper face planting itself on his shoulder and kissing him on the cheek before muttering, “I thought I might find you here.”

Merit kissed him again before Gale turned his face towards her, smiling softly, pleased when she did not cease her pattern of absently planting kisses where they landed so that her third one settled on the corner of his mouth and the fourth one perfectly placed atop his lips. Merit smiled against him as she remained a moment there, soaking in the feel of him. Gale tugged her arms more tightly around him, forcing Merit onto her tiptoes as she leaned further into the kiss before pulling away and smiling, her amber eyes heavy-lidded as she read his expression.

“How is it that you know me so well already?” he asked, his voice whispersoft. Merit bit her lip as she pulled away only to stand beside him now, one hand remaining around his waist as she then turned to witness the sunset beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I could very well ask you the same question,” Merit said, her voice equally soft, musing. “It’s almost as if I’ve always known you.”

Merit leaned in further against Gale as his hand instinctively urged her body even closer against his, placing a kiss atop her auburn hair before he rested his own head against hers, watching what remained of the sunset side-by-side.

“I thought the very same thing when I brought you home,” he said, reddening instantly at his unintentional yet earnest wording of events. “Or at least, endeavored to.”

This drew out a soft laugh from Merit, the sound of which made Gale feel as warm all over as he did whenever she sang. Merit didn’t chide him, knowing exactly what he meant.

“How so?” she asked.

Gale always felt at ease when he was one with the Weave, but had never quite realized how he could never make a home of it the way he could of his tower, a realization that eluded him completely as archmage, as Mystra’s Chosen, and again as a harrowed has-been, escaping to the Outer Planes whenever Tara was yet again gone in search of some other magical means to delay the inevitable. But upon returning to Waterdeep once more, even if in illusion only, he suddenly ached for every inch of it, rueing every lost moment he spent there never savoring its simpler comforts.

But in spiriting Merit there alongside him in what Gale imagined might be his last night alive, he glimpsed a world in which every corner of every crevice of the space was cherished. The moment he spied Merit sitting expectantly on the bench tucked into the corner of his beloved balcony, he’d envisioned a life there as if he’d already lived it with her - one where they not only shared a bed but everything else, too: meals on the terrace, the warmth of the bath, cups of tea and carafes of wine, sitting entwined by the fire in comfortable coexistence as they quietly read and exchanged tomes, excitedly discussing their thoughts and finds between chapters, Merit sneaking up behind him in the kitchen just as she had now, innocently asking what he had planned for supper while sensuously sowing kisses along the side of his neck. He imagined her things nestled amongst his, and that everything that was already Gale’s had also always been hers.

Instead of answering Merit’s initial question, feeling as if an eternity had already passed in thought, Gale instead said, “I wish I’d known you sooner.”

At this, he turned to her again, turning his entire body to face Merit as he hooked his thumb and forefinger gently beneath her chin and urged her gaze towards his. The setting sun lit her auburn hair aflame and her amber eyes aglow. He needn’t ever ask, he already knew just how much she loved him - he could see it in the way she looked at him, wide-eyed and wondrous, and in the way she settled against him, like a magnet seeking out its other and opposite. To think he’d yearned for such a thing from Mystra and punished himself before she could for failing to do so. To think he’d all but thrown his life away even before the precarious orb made an unwelcome home in the well of his chest, aching for him where his own heart refused to, yet had already echoed with unending want and indescribable need in a way he only further denied himself. If I only do this , he’d promise. And then if I accomplish that, then I will-

But Merit loved him in all the ways Mystra would not, could not, and likely could never.

“My affection for you only mounts by the moment, exponentially so to the point that I-” Gale inhaled, his eyes searching Merit’s as an overwhelming urge to kiss her, to fuse with her, overcame him so completely that he almost nearly ceased speaking altogether. Which was saying something. “I only wish I might have had the opportunity to know you sooner, to love you longer, for I don’t feign to know how much more time we have left, but-”

Before he could finish, each word finding purchase on his tongue before he could properly think them, Merit softly, hungrily, urged her lips against his. Gale’s eyes fluttered closed just as Merit’s did, the taste of her sating him in a way mere thought never could. Something about the weight of her against him, the feel of her lips on his and her hands nearly clawing at his chest as she pulled him closer, made him feel more at home than anything ever had.

Once, Mystra made him believe that he had a home in her, made him forget what a home really was - warmth, comfort, quiet laughter and utter calm. And all of that he found in Merit, from the moment she pulled him from that portal and even their first night shared on the beach, staving off sleep and their shared fear of what came next should they fail to eject their unwelcome ocular passengers. She’d made him laugh for the first time in a long time, and it was something he’d forgotten the magic of yet instantly yearned to have remembered in the days, months, and years before meeting her, having so desperately needed it.

Merit pulled away before slowly kissing him again, humming into a smile pressed to Gale’s lips as her grip on him pulsed once, twice, and then released on the third, still holding him close but only-just.

“I feel like I’ve always known you, but only just found you,” Merit whispered against his lips. “Which feels both fortunate yet unfair.”

Merit draped her arms about Gale’s shoulders and pressed her forehead to his, leaning into him again as she sighed. Gale mirrored the sentiment as well as the sigh, thinking: It’s as if I’d already missed you before we met, not yet knowing what I was missing yet missing the lack of it just the same.

He would tell her this, one day, but for now he would soak her in along with the sunset, trying not to think of how little time they likely had left in each other’s serendipitous company.

ii.

Strange did not even begin to cover the feeling that overcame Merit upon entering her old room again.

Surreal, perhaps. Something out of a dream, or a half-realized memory. Parts of it rang true with her mind’s eye version of the space while others denied it entirely.

Had the room always been this small? Had the duvet really been that faded when I left?

When she left…

Merit swallowed, trying not to think about it. She’d gone in the night after a row with her younger sisters, angered that they’d left the fate of the family bakery in her name after making so many attempts to set them up not to fail, oblivious to the sacrifices she’d made only in the wake of promising herself that this year she’d finally leave the Gate, that this year she’d finally finish one of her many incomplete degrees, that this year she would finally see the world and write all the stories and songs she’d yearned to since she learned how to speak, how to sing, how to dream.

She turned, taking the room in, wrangling the memory with the false imprints of her lingering sentiments before lowering herself to the bedside, the one she’d shared with Fable from the moment her first sister was born, the only sister she regretted not saying goodbye to when she’d finally left.

Merit raised an absent hand and ran her fingers along the frills of the throw pillows placed atop the duvet, wondering how Fable felt in her immediate absence and if her closest sister knew that her leaving wasn’t meant as a slight, at least not to her. She’d hoped by disappearing that Fable, too, would follow the dreams she’d so long abandoned in favor of keeping the place afloat, of helping their sisters survive… She paused, memory warring with the past, unable to reconcile the truth of it. Merit could have sworn the flowers embroidered onto the pillows were a paler pink and not the dusty rose that stared back at her now, the difference of it worrying her.

I thought it might liven up the space, Fable had announced to her one evening, beaming at her handiwork. If mum and dad insist on us remaining here while they continue to breed like rabbits, we may as well make it cute.

Merit smiled at the memory of it as she pushed off from the bed, aching at the notion that her parents were gone but warmed by the fact that all of her sisters were milling about downstairs - arguing, probably, but thankfully (and beautifully, miraculously) alive. Her parents had still been alive in the memory, and Merit wanted to keep it that way, so she held onto it longer as she moved about the room, counting the steps as if measuring whether the space had shrunk, still not convinced it was just as she left it.

Was the window facing the street truly that small?

It had always seemed so wide and inviting, though perhaps that was only when the shutters were thrown open. Merit thought of every song she’d penned by its side, every wish she’d ever whispered silently to the stars. For so long, she’d yearned to leave. And now that she had, she couldn’t believe she was back again, as if surprised the room would allow her re-entry after so recklessly abandoning its many comforts, its memories both good and ill, in her selfish wake.

”It’s rather quaint but certainly cozy,” Gale’s voice interrupted her thoughts as he finally came up the stairs behind her and entered the room proper, allowing her just enough time to soak in the memory of the space in private before gently inserting himself into it as she’d invited him to earlier. Curiosity colored his face, as well as a now quite familiar sense of decorum.

He was being polite, perhaps taken aback a bit by the sheer crampedness of the space given just how varied he knew Merit’s reading habits were, and how vast her wardrobe was very likely to be. Before Merit could defend her old living quarters with a sly smile, Gale slipped into the armchair she kept tucked into the corner between the dresser and the window, the one where she’d written many an unfinished song. After affording her a soft smile, Gale looked sidelong as he tucked a forefinger between the closed shutters beside him, stealing a peek between them at the approaching night before opening the window in earnest.

Gale’s eyes met Merit’s once more, even more gently this time, as if silently asking a question, before opening the shutters wide, letting the encroaching evening into the small space. The lush oranges and deep pinks of the evening sky filtered into the room and cast its rosy glow over the furniture, turning the faded wood gold and painting the embroidered roses as deliciously pink as they were in Merit’s memory. She couldn’t help but smile, the familiar setting in even more deeply now as she took in the room in its myriad forms, silently berating herself for having so swiftly forgotten.

“I can see why you’re so sweet on this place,” Gale said, his voice soft and far off, his gaze even more-so as his eyes swept out over the low roofs of the Lower City bordering the Gate and then the sprawling city beyond. Without speaking, Gale’s mind reached out to hers, like a not-so-accidental brushing of elbows as his tadpole gently nudged Merit’s, offering an image of a similarly glittering city at sundown. It wasn’t the view from his terrace as she’d seen in the Weave, but without asking or uttering a word, Merit understood that this sight was one ventured from elsewhere in Gale’s tower. With a soft smile to match his own, without words, Merit wistfully communicated that she couldn’t wait to see it someday. Gale looked at her then and beamed gently back in her direction, his gaze growing soft as his eyes searched hers.

“This city can be charming when it wants to be,” Merit said eventually, joining Gale by planting herself on the armrest of the chair he sat in. She planted her hands on his shoulders and delicately rested her chin atop his head, relishing in the sea-salt smell of his hair as she looked out at Baldur’s Gate along with him. “It only took me leaving it behind to remember that.”

Gale hummed in response, not quite adding anything yet gently acknowledging that he understood. Merit missed this, too, having someone in her life that understood her so naturally, so innately, like a sixth sense. The last time she was in this room, she’d felt so utterly alone that all she could think to do was leave, and the thought of that now made her heart ache in ways she did not know how to wrangle.

“But that’s not the only feature of this room that pleases me.”

Merit kissed Gale’s temple before pulling away and retreating to the far wall. The panels were inlaid with etched and painted wood, a project of Fable’s one awful winter. To the untrained eye, it appeared to be just that - a mural, some lovely art to liven a tiny room. But upon further inspection, one would find that some of the etchings camouflaged notches, and when grasped just-so, the panels pulled away with ease, revealing shelf upon shelf of carefully curated books beneath, each of them organized by size and color (Fable’s doing) and then by author and genre (Merit’s doing).

Gale’s eyes went wide and warm as he took in the sight of it. He rose from the chair and spirited across the room with a hand outstretched, as if enchanted, towards the inlaid bookcases, his eyes scanning the spines before he’d even cleared the end of the bed.

”Remarkable,” he muttered, affording Merit a surprised though charming glance before he reached for a book to thumb through its pages. “You have quite the treasure trove here.”

Merit bit back a smirk, pleased with herself. She knew she had good taste, and that even Fable’s contributions were respectable as well, but to know that she’d impressed Gale after enviously eying his worthy-of-an-entire-civilization’s home library, Merit had to internally admit that she was feeling a bit self-conscious about sharing her own collection the closer they got to Baldur’s Gate, should they even survive that long.

But they had. As harrowing as the last few months had been and as dire things still were if she were being honest, it was as if Merit were living out one of the many stories she’d stayed up all night in this very room reading and yearning to escape from, and suddenly the weight of that notion pulled Merit back to the present as well as the pleasant weight of Gale beside her, at first leaning into his arm as he perused another book before slipping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his shoulder as she took in the scent of him. The mingling fragrances of home and Gale’s personal scent acquainted themselves and made her feel a certain kind of way she had no words for, the past merging with present as well as a hopeful future Merit hoped still rested somewhere assuredly on her horizon.

Gale pressed a kiss against her hair and asked, “Are you alright?”

His words were slow, tentative and comforting, instantly lulling Merit into an unending calm she could now only seem to feel in his presence. A feeling she’d longed for the last she was here. The feeling of home.

“I am,” she said. The admission felt like a lie, even though Merit knew from the depths of her heart that it wasn’t, only grappling with the realization that melancholic relief could coexist with utter joy and utmost love, even if it was all laced with an uncertain dose of apprehension and with the highest of hopes that they would yet survive another night to tell the tale. “It’s just… a merging of worlds.”

Merit nestled further against him, now savoring the sensation of the fabric of Gale’s robe against her cheek. Despite sharing this room with her sister, Merit had never felt more alone than she had the last time she stood here. And now, months later, the feeling felt so entirely alien that she wasn’t sure how to feel.

”And the mild surprise that we lived long enough to be standing in this room together, is all.”

Gale deposited the book he was holding and kissed her forehead, slipping his own arm around her as he pulled her in close. Merit closed her eyes against the feeling of his breath on her skin, thinking back to the last time she was in this room. She wondered what that version of her might think if she told her all that had happened as well as what else may yet happen as the Netherbrain still loomed on theirs and all of Baldur’s Gate’s darkening horizon, and if the old Merit would even deign to believe the truth of it, much less the depth of the love she felt for the man standing beside her now.

”I want you to show me everything,” Gale muttered sweetly into her hair before nestling his chin against her temple. “I want to see everything from your life before.”

Before . The word lingered in Merit’s mind though she knew Gale did not mean it with any finality. It only ached because it felt wrong for there to have been a time in her life where she hadn’t known him but had so desperately needed his comfort, his encouragement. The woman she was when she last inhabited this very room would hardly believe it, but for some reason, that idea made her happy, wishing she could tempt her old self with its eventual surprise.

It will all be worth it , she thought, as if she were speaking to her now. One day.

”And I’d like nothing more than to show it to you,” Merit said eventually, turning her head. At first her nose was nestled against Gale’s neck, buried in his hair, but when he turned to meet her gaze, his cheek brushed against hers before their lips met in a languid, unhurried kiss. “To share it all with you.”

Merit smiled against him, easing into the expression even when the kiss was over, relishing in the warmth of Gale’s lips on hers as she contentedly considered lingering in this moment forever.

And what a sweet moment it would eternally be.

iii.

The dream felt real, and it also felt very much like drowning.

Dread, despair, and desolation threatened to overcome him, as they once had eons ago. He clutched at his chest only to find it white-hot, his fingers clawing at a glowing ache that both filled his vision yet fell outside the realm of it, arcane hunger possessing him as if it meant to consume him one and whole, now and forever.

There were no images, only feelings and fleeting memories. But it all felt present, inescapable.

Like his first time traversing the Weave, his mind void of any vocabulary to describe it. And yet in the din of his mounting distress, he thought of it, of her . Of Mystra.

Her presence, the solace of her celestial embrace, and the promise of her power should have sated him, soothed his worry into calm. But instead it only begot more chaos, his very self collapsing in on itself, shrinking to nothing and ceasing to be.

But the pain only heightened, its sharpness both a taste and a sensation, a metallic tang lacing his tongue as he tried to cry out. For help, for her . Only no answer came. Only utter annihilation.

Gale woke with a start, his entire body coated in a cold, slick sweat.

He was gasping and grasping at his bed sheets.

Bed sheets.

His mind cast around for other anchors.

Bed, mine.

His vice-like hold eased but did not yet let go, instead studying the texture and the weight of the fabric beneath his fumbling fingers.

His eyes fluttered open, searching for more reminders of reality.

The sun, oh that damned beautiful sun.

The window beside the bed was open just a crack, the curtain draped atop the fourposter pulled back enough for Gale to see it and relish in the golden rays peering into his bedroom.

My room, his mind assured at first, gaining a foothold in the now just as his weary eyes fell on a deep blue lyre painted with vines and flowers resting against the windowsill, some of its strings cast in the silvered hue of early morning.

Gale shot up in bed, the sheets sticking to his chest as he rose. He peeled them away to reveal an unmarred chest, no orb housed precariously within. Gale stilled, staring at the lack. His chest heaved still with heavy breathing, and adjacent to it was the dull ache at the base of his throat that mirrored though did not quite mimic the arcane hunger he once felt. His fingers traced the echo of the scar in its absence, its imprint still heavy in his memory. He looked back at the window again and the lyre beneath it just as a heady sigh filled the otherwise quiet air beside him.

The bed sheets were new, he realized, and not the well-worn fare he’d remembered as his own in the midst of the dream. A soft cotton graced his clammy skin while a lustrous velvet blanket lay atop him, a lavender field laid with silver and sapphire stars, sparking the inkling of a memory. A delightfully new one, though only half-remembered in his waking panic. And beneath said blanket, lying beside him on the bed was a figure, bare copper shoulders peering from beneath the covers as the freckled body lay face down against a silk pillow of the deepest blue, auburn hair splayed atop it in pleasing waves.

The ache in his chest dulled some as memory flooded back into Gale’s waking mind, his hand absently reaching for the figure’s elbow, pleased to feel how warm it was beneath his clammy hand.

“Merit,” he sighed, the sound and the sensation of her name on his tongue transporting him to the here and now. Merit.

She hummed, puzzled though still asleep beneath his questing touch. Gale’s thumb ran along the inner swath of smooth skin reaching from her elbow up her arm, relishing in the silk of it. His skin warmed at the feel of her, the thought of her, the memory of her.

Heaving a sigh, Gale retreated back beneath the covers, his skin still slick with sweat but warming at the thought and the sight of Merit, and the feel of her skin against his as he eased his body beside hers beneath the duvet. His other hand graced what exposed bit of her spine remained above the sheets, his fingers tracing a pattern along her shoulder before he held her there and placed a gentle kiss on the back of her neck, just beneath her splayed hair. She smelled like roses, as she often had since they’d not only returned to Waterdeep but since that unforgettable evening they’d shared in Sharess’ Caress.

That entire evening felt like a faraway dream now, a gift. One he still wasn’t entirely sure he deserved.

Merit hummed again, this time turning towards him with a languid smile gracing her lips. Her eyes were still closed as Gale kissed the corner of her mouth and watched as her eyes finally fluttered open, pulling him closer.

“What’s the occasion?” Merit asked sleepily, kissing the corner of Gale’s mouth in kind. “Other than perhaps good morning.”

Good morning. The thought echoed in Gale’s mind. It was a good morning, even if an ancient ill had awoken him ungraciously into it.

“It’s always a good morning,” he said, kissing her neck and burying his face in her hair. “So long as you’re here.”

Here . The idea seemed alien to him, almost: the weight of Merit’s somnolent body arching towards his, the feel of her skin and the taste of her kiss, the miracle of her occurring here in this very bed, one Gale spent so many a night alone in, wondering what might become of him now that he harbored a life wasted and squandered. But that reality was no longer now. It was decidedly then. And Gale wanted to keep it that way.

His lips brushed lightly against the skin of Merit’s neck, again soaking in the scent and the taste of her, as if committing all of her to memory. Merit’s hands, still clumsy with sleep, raked their nails lightly up across his chest before snaking up his shoulders and over his neck before burying themselves in his hair.

“You’re cold,” she mumbled. “Here, let me help.”

Mystra was never this warm, nor this thoughtful. He felt guilty, almost, having thought of her in the midst of his dream. But it had been more of a nightmare, the last year erasing itself from his memory in order to make room for the shame that still hung heavy inside him, especially when his old hurts reared their unwelcome head. It had been months since the orb had finally been sated by Msytra’s hand, her face now a blur in the aftermath of relief that followed, but the mere fact that his dream-self sought solace in the thought of her the moment his chest ached once more…

Merit ran her fingers along Gale’s scalp, her fingernails gently raking through his hair in a way that made him shiver pleasantly as her legs entwined with his, her slumbering warmth mingling with his dreamsick coolness until the temperature beneath their bed sheets reached utter perfection.

He’d always yearned for this kind of closeness, never quite knowing it until he allowed himself the room to experience it. It was strange, at first, realizing that his mounting yearning for Merit might be satisfied with a kiss. But then the image presented itself in his mind’s eye that evening through the Weave, the very thought of it enough to make him grow hot. And now Gale could not imagine a world in which he wasn’t kissing her. He pressed another kiss at the thought against her throat, smiling against her skin as Merit murmured inaudibly into his hair, pleased, in response.

“Is that better?” she asked. The answer should have been obvious, but Gale was glad she asked anyway, happy only to hear her voice.

He raised his head until their gazes met, Merit’s eyes still heavy with sleep as she ran a hand through his hair. One of Gale’s hands reached for her face, tracing her features with the pad of his thumb as he watched her grow more steadily awake, her gaze softening yet stilling just the same, almost unblinking as she looked at him lovingly, watching on, wordlessly, as he admired her every feature.

“So much better,” he eventually said, almost forgetting that they needed words to speak. Somehow, though, he understood that Merit knew what he felt without audibly communicating it. It was a skill honed while still housing their unwanted tadpoles, now long gone, and perfected with the use of the rings he’d enchanted for their engagement. But even still he often found that a shared look was enough to communicate a world of feelings between them, now not being an exception.

“I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that,” Merit began, her heavy-lidded eyes lighting a fire in Gale’s heart he did not wish to ever extinguish. “But… I don’t want you to stop.”

He swallowed. The last thing he wanted to do was stop, but there were other things he found his body longing to do. Gale’s other hand descended to the small of Merit’s back, urging their hips closer until they were utterly flush before pressing an equally urgent kiss to her mouth, savoring the plush of her sleep-soft lips before he parted them with his tongue.

Merit whimpered against him as she drank him in full, her legs coiling more deliciously around his, pulling him closer, as her hands lay clasped at the back of his neck, cradling his head as she angled Gale’s face against hers and deepened their kiss.

His chest felt cavernous at the feel of her want for him, not aching as it had before, and not as if it were lacking but instead expanding itself to allow more of his own mirroring affection for her to take up room within him. Another pleasant shiver coursed through Gale at the recognition of it. And in its wake he only wanted more.

“This is good too,” Merit conceded, her lips curling into a smile as she kissed him again and again. “Don’t stop.”

“Never,” he breathed into her next kiss. “So long as you don’t either. And, well, even if you do…”

Merit laughed lightly against his mouth, his heart fluttering at the sound and the feel of it, an insatiable smile overcoming him in its shadow.

“No, never,” Merit echoed before slowing her kiss. Her smile faded but its warmth didn’t. She pulled away, her eyes glittering with quiet affection and the gilded glow of early morning.

It was moments like this truly warmed him heart and soul, lovedrunk and awestruck at how something as simple as a smile or a laugh could render him utterly astonished, quiet joy overcoming him completely. Its unassuming but undeniable presence was more grandiose and all-consuming in a way magic could never compare. In a way, it was its own kind of magic, one he longed to be well-versed in, vowing to study its every intricacy for the remainder of his life so long as he shared it with Merit.

Merit bit her bottom lip and ran her hands through Gale’s hair before tracing the outline of his face with the back of her hand, her knuckles lightly grazing his jaw before ending at the crest of his chin, the pads of her fingers stilling there as she studied him. Gale’s breath caught in his throat as he watched her, calmed by her touch but also invigorated by it.

Her eyes were warm as amber, more honeyed than fiery in this light but just as radiant. As much as she reminded him of roses, it was moments like this where Gale realized Merit was perhaps more like the sun - a star whose celestial trajectory careened thankfully close enough towards his own that they fell into easy orbit the moment they’d met, ‘til never the two shall part.

Gale’s breath quickened as Merit’s hands and her tender gaze trailed down his neck, stroking his skin gently enough to elicit a shiver but also a welcome warmth as her hands eventually stilled over his chest. Palms flat against him, one hand lay over his fast-beating heart whilst the other traced the ghost of his Netherese scar. Gale’s own hands nearly clawed at the small of her back, careful not to harm her in his urgent need, pulling her close and resting his forehead against hers as she examined his old aches.

“It was just a nightmare,” Merit assured as her eyes rose to meet his again, her countenance pleading and soft as she read his mind. “But for each and every one you have, I will always be here.”

It was a promise and vow that Gale felt three fold: in the somber assurance of Merit’s words, in the ardent intensity of her gaze, and in the all-eclipsing affection she radiated through the rings they shared now. He felt it in his heart and in his head, every inch of him feeling weightless at the words, as if enchanted. Which he knew he already was from the moment he’d met her.

”You’re too good to me,” he admitted, the words slipping past his lips faster than he could think them. Despite her countless assurances, Gale remained unconvinced, unworthy, though never unappreciative. He ached in another way entirely at his own words, clumsy and uncareful. But Merit only smiled a small, somber smile.

”I’m as good to you as I believe I should be,” she said whisper-soft, as if reading his other unspoken thoughts. He hadn’t even thought of them in full himself, afraid to give them credence, as if doing so might give them shape. “You’ve only ever been good to me. And aside from that, you’re only human.”

Years of worshiping in the then-comforting shadow of Mystra’s wake offered no salvation but instead constant pining, an insatiable hunger that could never be quenched. The very last thing he’d wanted to be then was only human. If Gale was used to anything, it was forever questing after what else was needed of him, performing whatever was asked, in the weak hope that he could overcome his perceived inadequacies and evolve into something greater.

But only human, sounded nice, now, especially with the way Merit said it.

“You trust me-” Merit’s hand ascended from Gale’s neck to his temple, her fingers carding through the brown and silver of his hair. “Don’t you?”

At this, she offered him a sly smile, one that made him go weak in the knees at the sight of her.

”You know I do,” he answered, rubbing his nose against hers. One of his hands traced a delicate pattern along the naked length of her spine before burying itself in her hair, relishing in the satin of her auburn waves. “I’m not used to this quite yet, but-“

Merit kissed Gale, then, stealing his words as well as his heart. No one had ever kissed him quite like Merit had, and he’d never kissed anyone quite like how he kissed her. It was more than just an act. It was also a promise. A vow laced with sentiment and unending yearning.

”But you will be,” Merit promised, this time aloud. Her lips brushed against his, their mouths still close enough to share breath.

What worth was there in being anything other than human if he couldn’t experience this? The depth of feeling, the plush of her touch, the solace of her warmth, all of it gone, his existence void of her never-ending affection. Before the orb, he would have readily given it all up. But now...?

Gale nodded in silent promise. He was home again, and it felt even more so with Merit by his side.

”I will be,” he echoed, kissing her again.

And again, and again. And forever until the end of time.

iv.

It felt like both a fabrication as well as a future inherited, the now finally feeling like a thing deserved instead of only dreamed of, the future not some far off sentiment and instead a thing steeped in the present like very strong, very good tea.

They’d earned this; all of it. She tried to remind herself of that often.

Merit loved the lush trappings they’d chosen for their bedroom: a mix of it Gale’s, a mix of it hers, plus a few new things they’d bought together thrown in. It had been a practical decision on two counts. One, because most of Gale’s things were decidedly dusty and unfortunately moth-eaten upon returning to Waterdeep months later than they anticipated, not counting for the nigh on nine months they spent being abducted by, plotting against, and eventually taking down the cult of the Absolute. And two, because his home had even before that already suffered an unexpected spring cleaning in the wake of his hungering orb, leaving precious few things other than books that survived his absence - things Merit had come to cherish as soon as it was made abundantly clear that whatever was his was also hers, without question.

Their bed was perhaps her favorite place, though. For many reasons more than one. But right now, Merit was in love with the lush duvet, a rich velvet quilt that lay heavy over their comforter, which was a clean cotton white, plump and pillowy beneath the calm comfort of the velvet’s weight. Merit fell in love with it the moment she saw it hanging in the market, its glittering embroidery catching the light in such a way that it completely captivated her. She’d bought it at asking price, despite Gale’s polite advice to do otherwise.

You’d be wise to at least try to haggle with these vendors, I’d wager, Gale had said, despite knowing these streets well enough that he and said vendor already had a rapport and a discount had been factored into the estimate he gave her. Never accept their first offer.

But Merit’s mind was already made up, too enamored with the thing the moment she laid eyes on it, her hand already deep in her purse with the intention of purchasing the entire set. Even now, she ran her hands along the four-poster’s trappings, relishing in the thick fabric as it slipped through her fingers in the early evening light.

She loved their bedroom at this time of day. The sun glowed a deep amber, like a hearth, casting their room in an otherworldly fiery glow. Mornings were silvered, but evenings were gilded, and now was no exception. The silver embroidery looked rosy in the sunset’s fading light, much like the faded floral duvet she once shared with her sister…

Merit’s eyes crossed the room to the sitting area in the far corner, falling upon the couch there and the pillows laid atop it. She smiled as she noticed not just her kitten, aptly named Kit, settled atop one of the pilfered pillows she’d borrowed from her childhood bedroom in silent repose, but Tara dutifully cleaning his forehead with a steady tongue beside him.

Merit smiled to herself as her eyes then cast sidelong at the recess in the wall towards hers and Gale’s shared walk-in closet. According to Tara, its many shelves and crevices once housed a wealth of Weave-touched artifacts and items, once gathering dust and excuse after excuse on Gale’s behalf, notes and bits of research littering the floor until he found more immediate need of their contents other than for what Tara called self-indulgent investigation. Now the shelves were cleaned and lined with potpourri, the window at the far-end of the alcove clear of clutter to yet again let light in and cast slivers of illumination on Merit’s and Gale’s often half-clothed bodies either at the beginning of the day, half-dressed, or at the end of the evening, half-undressed, as they usually found themselves inexplicably drawn to one another as they so often were in each other’s presence.

Sighing at the thought, Merit nestled herself further against Gale atop the bed having fallen asleep reading some minutes ago, nuzzling him from behind as she buried her face half in his hair splayed on the pillow between them, gazing up again at their shared canopy of the four-poster that was now delightfully considered theirs. A pet project of hers, Merit had spent the better part of a rainy afternoon copying the canopy of stars Gale had strung up in his tent on the road when they met, reproducing its every intricacy with a brush and paint.

Merit insisted that they keep the original fabric itself, if only out of a simple desire to be sentimental, which Gale agreed to without argument. The saved swath of canvas was now draped over the back of the sitting chair in his study where he was so often found reading when the weather was cold, Merit also often also found on his lap there, sometimes as a distraction and sometimes not so much. Their sitting so often began that way, with Merit planting a few wayward kisses, first at Gale’s temple, and then his cheek, sometimes a nibble at his ear before Gale would eventually succumb and kiss Merit straight on the mouth, parting her lips until their kiss deepened to the point of abandoning the thought of reading entirely. And then there were times Merit planted herself atop Gale’s lap with a book of her own, each of them perfectly content to remain like that in shared silence, occasionally sharing passages and passing thoughts, or also sometimes no words at all, only grazing hands; a hand on a shoulder, a circling thumb atop a knee.

Merit kissed the back of Gale’s neck, parting his hair with her nose as she relished in the scent of him, savoring the lavender from his bath earlier that evening along with his usual musk. Gale hummed, slumbering still beside her, and inched further back against Merit, one hand abandoning his book to reach behind him to pull her close. Merit bit back a smile, knowing he was only feigning sleep but was otherwise too comfortable to contest his play-acting. She was content to remain like this, one of her arms folded in on itself against her as her other arm lay draped over Gale’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of his every half-sleeping breath. His skin was warm as she absently raked her fingernails through his chest hair, still only half-clothed post bath, smiling again when she felt him shiver slightly beneath her touch but budge none when it came to surrender his sleeping charade.

It would remain a lazy evening, and Merit was more than fine with that. She was more than fine with everything, thinking ahead to the remainder of the night and what might undoubtedly follow: Gale would soon rouse from his book and get properly dressed (if she let him) and then head down to the kitchen and prepare some other scrumptious surprise for them to share on the balcony as the sun took its final dive beneath the water’s glittering horizon. They would talk over wine and perhaps go for a stroll, as they were inclined to do on these cool summer evenings, and then who knows where the night might take them?

Once upon a time, the thought might have bored her, but now Merit cherished the routine. It was easy to romanticize the mundanity of it all, especially when it felt anything but mundane to her.

And as night turned to day once more, the harbor sounds would rouse them from rest and Gale would again descend to the kitchens as Merit would endeavor to open every window, unlock every shutter, and welcome all light into the tower until Gale placed either a cup of tea or coffee in her expectant hands. They would kiss, softly at first, and then more deeply but softly so, one of them parting their lips while the other’s tongue laced theirs, exchanging wry smiles before either having each other right then and there, wherever they happened to be, or trading simple questions like: Anywhere you’d like to venture, love? or What are you working on today?

Perhaps they’d go to market together, hand in hand, or Merit might tempt Gale to take her sight-seeing, pleasing her every touristy whim until she finally felt like a local - which wasn’t quite yet, but close. Or perhaps instead they would each disappear into their respective rooms to work on their crafts, re-emerging come lunch and dinner, and every snack or wine break in between to discuss their progress and excitedly explain their breakthroughs on spells or songs.

Merit had a new ballad she’d been drafting, half of it in her sleep, and the other half of it now, its lyrics awash with the comforts of a new home that had somehow always been hers. This tower, Waterdeep, Gale - all of it was a gift. And not one Merit wanted to go to waste. So why not immortalize it in song?

She nestled further against Gale at the thought, more meters entering her mind as if divinely inspired, repeating the primordial lyrics internally to herself in her own half-slumbering stillness to the point of memorization so she need not discard this very moment to write it down, relishing in the comforts of home, every facet carving a line in her memory, in word and in thought and in sentiment and in scent and in touch and in utter undeniable bliss.

Because it didn’t matter where they were, not anymore.

She’d always be home so long as she was with him.

#bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #gale x oc #my writing #last reblog I promise lol

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