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britishassistant · 5 months

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Gale’s Excellent Adventure (2)

Gale thinks that things are going well so far!

They’ve met and recruited a githyanki warrior—the first Gale’s ever seen outside of illuminations in scholarly texts!—and a rather dashing warlock who answers to the moniker “The Blade of the Frontiers”.

The fellow was hunting a war-devil, who turned out to be an unaccountably lovely tiefling with an infernal engine in her chest as well as a mindflayer tadpole on the brain.

He is looking forward to learning more about this exotic trio over the course of their travels together. And he’s learned so much more about his current companions too!

He now knows that Shadowheart is a cleric of a deity she will not name, but one that prizes secrecy and an intimate knowledge of torture and interrogation tactics among its followers.

(He’s relatively certain it’s not Mystra. Relatively. Almost probably.)

That Astarion channels the innate cruelty and ruthlessness of his profession into being very skilled at stabbing people in the vitals and relieving them of any valuables they possessed.

(Also he contains a puckish glee for “odd” names. He was in stitches over “Wyll-with-a-Y” for hours.)

That Yuu has yet to receive any formal training as a bard or a combatant, but improvises with what few cantrips they do know to devastating effect.

(They’re trading him magical items for lessons on the Weave. Gale’s surprised at how he enjoys it.)

There’s been a few…fractious moments between certain individuals who shall remain nameless, but he’s certain everyone will be fast friends soon enough! They’re all in this together, bonded over getting rid of the mindflayer tadpoles.

And best of all, no one’s noticed a thing.

He’s been patient, and observant, and has learned enough by now to mimic the spasms the others get when their tadpoles are…tadpoling. Their mental communications are harder to fake, but nothing a sneaky “detect thoughts” can’t fix.

Yes, he’s blended in splendidly, if he does say so himself.

***

“Gale? Can I have a word?”

“Hm?” He looks round, drawn out of his musings by one of his new friends. “Ah, Shadowheart! How can I be of help?”

She glances around, taking in Karlach debating with Lae’zel, Astarion needling Yuu while they’re trying to hold a conversation with Wyll.

“It’s a bit of a…personal matter.” She leans in. “Would you mind if we took this somewhere more private?”

Oh. Oh!

Well, this is a little awkward. Gale knows he’s handsome man and a capable wizard. It’s only natural that, in such close proximity for so long, someone would fall in love with him sooner or later.

Still, he reflects as they arrive in the ruins behind the camp. His dedicated monogamy to Mystra does mean that he has little to no idea how to let someone down gently or ask if he can get to know them a little better first before committing fully. She certainly provided no example—swept in with power and a whirlwind romance only to just vanish into the night and never respond to his sendings or prayers. Oh hells, how is he going to—

“I know you don’t have a tadpole, Gale.” Shadowheart announces gravely.

Gale promptly chokes on his own spit.

“Wh-wh-what?!” He splutters. “What are you—how—that’s—!”

“Really?” She tilts her head at him, a cross between sardonic and pitying. “That’s all it takes for you to break? Gale, I made one statement. Do I need to teach you how to lie so the others don’t unmask you so easily?”

“I don’t know what—?” He tries to lie, but she folds her arms, stare growing even more unimpressed. “Alright, alright, but not so loud! How in Mystra’s name did you find out?”

“It really wasn’t that difficult.” She shrugs.

He lets out a little snort, kicking a twig. “Spare my feelings, why don’t you.”

Shadowheart sighs, taking pity on his pouting. “Fine. It started in the Druid sanctum. When we happened upon the druidess menacing the tiefling child, the rest of us were treated to a…rather unpleasant vision. Involving a much smaller Yuu, an elven beauty, and attempted horn removal.”

He feels as though he cricks something in his neck, whipping around to face her. “I’m sorry, there was what?”

“It doesn’t matter,” She dismisses, far too casually in his humble opinion. “What matters is that, given that Astarion and myself were both effectively deaf, dumb, and blind thanks to the tadpoles forcing us to view that charming little scene, how were you able to remain aware enough to keep Yuu from impulsively murdering that druid?”

He thinks of how he’d had to lunge when he noticed the tailless tiefling tugging free the spear they’d scavenged, the way the teenager had turned to him with glassy-eyed incomprehension before they shuddered back into themselves as if shaking off lingering night terrors.

“The pieces fell into place from there easily enough.” Shadowheart continues, meandering as she talks. “You react a moment too late if something the tadpoles do affects us physically. And you respond like a normal person ought to when confronted with other instances of the parasite that we’ve come across.”

“I see.” Gale mutters. Then, fiddling at his sleeves slightly. “A normal person, as opposed to…?”

Shadowheart’s face creases into a disgusted grimace. “An abiding compulsion from our guests to find more of the little monsters and slurp them down as if they’re a bowl of your fine stew.”

“Ah. Urgh.” Gale can’t keep his own nose from wrinkling.

The two of them marinate in companionably disgusted silence for a few moments.

“…And now?” Gale asks, unable to bear the silence any longer. “Is this where you announce to hither, thither and yon that I’m a fraud? Or did you have some personal retribution planned for my disseminations before proceeding with my banishment?”

A soft, sweet smile curves Shadowheart’s lips. Even with the mischievous twinkle in her eyes, it’s one of Gale’s favorite expressions of hers.

“Well, I wouldn’t say we need to go as far as all that. You’ve been a fine companion, Gale, even without the tadpole. I feel the tenor of this group would drop dramatically if you left us. The quality of our meals certainly would.”

A single ember of hope sparks into a quivering flame in his chest. “So then—!”

“But,” She holds up a finger to interrupt him. “I will require something in return. A guarantee, of sorts. I’m hardly Lady Popularity, after all, and if the others discover I’ve been lying for you then things could get quite sticky for me, you understand?”

He dithers for a moment, before letting himself nod. “Anything. I’ll do anything—ah, short of harming or endangering our fellow companions. Or myself. Or you.”

She tosses him a sardonic look. “Gale, would I ever?”

He elects not to answer that.

“I need you to keep an eye out for something.” Shadowheart says. “It’s a…keepsake of mine. I had it with me on the Nautiloid, but when I woke up afterwards, it was gone.”

“Oh. Oh dear.” Gale frowns, considering. “Well, I’m happy to aid however I can. What does it look like?”

She kneels down and, picking up a twig, sketches a vague dodecahedron with strange, angular characters decorating its surface. “It’s a little smaller than a fist, and black with orange markings. It is vital I get it back, it—! It means a lot to someone very important to me. Someone I’d hoped to reunite with in Baldur’s Gate.”

And call him a soft touch, but Gale’s always been partial to grand romantic gestures of devotion. “Alright. I’ll keep a keen eye out for it, don’t you worry. Might even dust off some of the old divination textbooks to see if scrying would be of any use!”

“Thank you, Gale.” Shadowheart smiles, verdant eyes sparkling with warmth like sunlight dappled through tree leaves. “You’re an excellent friend.”

It may be a little embarrassing, but that praise warms the cockles of Gale’s heart for the rest of the evening and well past noon the next day.

That warmth quickly goes tepid when it turns out the keepsake is in the custody of their intrepid leader, so revealed when the teenager pulls it out, bold as brass, to ask him if he can identify whether or not it is some form of communication device.

They at least heed his urging to return it to Shadowheart, even if they grumble slightly about the spies for the Order of the Companion as they do so. Shadowheart is rightfully indignant, but willing to forgive. His secret is safe. Gale is content that all is right with the world.

Which is when they all discover that Yuu literally, physically cannot give up the artefact.

***

“Wizard.”

“Gah!” He can’t help jumping.

“Ah, Lae, Lae’zel! You startled me. Can I help with anything?”

She scowls at him. Or possibly just looks at him neutrally. Perhaps even favorably! He’s never quite been able to tell.

Being too intimidated to maintain eye contact may have something to do with it.

“Follow me.” Lae’zel orders.

As with most of her orders, Gale obeys mostly without question.

Mostly.

“Rather, rather unusual for you to summon me, isn’t it? Not that I don’t enjoy conversing with you, far from it! I’ve always found it highly, ah, enlightening to learn more about githyanki philosophy and custom, particularly in matters of—!”

He finds himself transfixed by a pair of golden eyes staring into his soul and by a finger pressing to his lips.

“Cease this prattle.” She snaps. “You are no yank begging for mercy from a varsh. I have matters of import to discuss, so be silent and listen.”

Despite his usual difficulties with the task, Gale finds himself shrinking mutely back into the tree she has him effectively pinioned against.

A gleam of approval enters her gaze.

He chooses to interpret the removal of her finger as a proverbial carrot to incentivize his behavior.

“I know of your deception, wizard.” Lae’zel pronounces. “That you merely pretend to be afflicted with the parasite the rest of us suffer.”

His blood turns to ice.

“Ha. Hahaha!” He laughs, nonchalantly, like Shadowheart’s taught him. “That is. That is a. Funny joke, Lae’zel! Truly, you are the comedic backbone of this camp!”

Her expression does not change.

Gale tries desperately to concentrate on maintaining the illusion of mirth.

He fails.

“What gave it away?” He asks wearily, recognizing a thorough routing when he sees it.

“It was simple for one such as I.” She declares. “Of all who fell sweating and diminished under the tadpole’s machinations, you alone were flush with health. The gi even used this a proof to keep me from purging the camp.”

“Gi?”

Lae’zel rolls her eyes. “Gi, student in Common. The tailless one requested my instruction in combat, so they would not perish as they almost did aboard the Nautiloid. But that is irrelevant to the matter at hand. Which is that the next morn, you again were the sole member of this sorry band who did not immediately come forward with talk of a figure in golden armor in your dreams, telling us to utilize the tadpole.”

“Ah.” Gale had personally thought his improvisation when Yuu had consulted him, cobbled together from elements he’d overheard from the others, had been rather inspired all things considered. “Might there be anything I could do to convince you to not evict me from camp?”

Lae’zel crosses her arms. “And risk losing what is a blessing from Vlaa’kith herself? Do not be foolish!”

“Erm?” Says Gale.

“I would make you my ally, wizard.” She announces. “As the only one free of ghaik infection, you alone are free of their trickery and deceptions. You alone see things as they truly are, instead of what the parasite would have us believe them be.”

He considers this with a sense that is not quite dread, but is not far off in how it looms over him, makes his breath short under its scale. The anticipation of a burden to bear, perhaps.

“I…suppose so.”

“Do not suppose, know. That is what wizards claim to be their domain, is it not?” She challenges, a cocky bent to her smirk that makes Gale want dearly to rise to it. To prove himself worthy, somehow.

“Very well. And what would this alliance entail?” He queries.

“I would have you as my touchstone. To assure me of what is real and what is mere fabrication.” Lae’zel asserts, in the manner of a commander dispensing orders. “And, should the ghaik infection progress beyond this, aid me in ending the misery of the others and myself.”

Gale does not choke this time, but it’s a near thing.

“You what?!” He squawks. “Lae’zel, you can’t be serious!”

“And why not?!” She fires back. “You, above all others, know the danger of the ghaik! You know what will happen if we are allowed to transform! I will not permit it!!”

“Yes, well, but—! Lae’zel, you asked me to act as touchstone for you.” He implores, seeking out her gaze. “Then let me. This is madness speaking, Lae’zel, the purest folly. Losing you, or any of the others, that could in no way make the world a safer place. If anything—!”

He pounces on this new line of reasoning that has just dawned on him. “If anything, isn’t it far more likely that this is one of the tadpole’s insidious commands?”

Her eyes snap to him, alert as any bird of prey. “Explain.”

“Well, consider it,” Gale proposes, warming to his topic. “When we came upon those Absolute fellows with tadpoles in their heads, we didn’t join up with their cause, did we? In fact, Yuu deliberately orchestrated their demise while fighting that owlbear, so even their corpses couldn’t give a clear account of their killers. Maybe the tadpoles have realized you all have far more, erm, vigor and vim than they can contend with? Thus leading to them attempting to encourage you to terminate yourselves or each other to keep you from growing too powerful, opposing whatever their plans may be?”

He can see the cogs turning in her head as she gives his words due consideration. “Hrm…that would explain why Shadowheart is so irascible, and unwilling to allow the gi to return the aretfact to my people.”

He privately considers that this may have more to do with the fact that Shadowheart is still very determined to gift the artefact to her beloved in Baldur’s Gate and that she just greatly dislikes Lae’zel, but decides discretion is the better part of valor in this case.

“To think that the tadpole could even use the training of crèche K’llir against me…” Lae’zel shakes her head, disquieted. “Already this alliance bears fruit. I will keep your secret, wizard, and keep you appraised of when the parasite attempts its trickery again.”

Gale sags as the tension he’s amassed over the course of this conversation escapes him all at once. “R-right, erm, of course. Please, please do.”

She nods to him and strides off back to camp.

He waits until she’s out of sight before letting himself sink against the base of the tree in exhaustion.

Well all’s well that ends well, he supposes. And if that means Lae’zel occasionally comes to him to complain about certain habits of their companions that inspire murderous rage in her, and it turns into a bit of a gossip session…

Well, it’s certainly better than the alternative.

***

“Care for a drink, Gale?”

It’s late, and most of the camp is curled up in their bedrolls and tucked away in their tents. He had presumed that the only ones left awake were himself, pouring over a rather interesting volume of Fringe Philosophy, and that dog which followed Yuu back from goodness knows where in the woods.

The frowsy canine has been eyeing his boots with intent, he just knows it.

He finds himself for once welcomely mistaken when he looks up to see Wyll proffering one of the bottles of Ithbank that also returned with the scouting party.

“Ooh, don’t mind if I do.” He puts the book to the side, scooching to make space for his new companion in libations on the log.

Wyll takes a seat next to him, muscled thigh bulging where it presses against Gale’s own.

Gale tries in vain to focus instead on the gratifyingly full cup the Blade of Frontiers passes him. The wine itself tastes tart and dry as it goes down.

“Oh, that hits the spot.” Gale sighs happily. “My deepest thanks, good sir. I must admit I did not realize how sorely I needed this.”

“Ah, think nothing of it.” Wyll replies modestly.

The pair of them sup together in convivial silence.

It’s when Gale is refilling Wyll’s cup for the third time that he ventures, tentatively, “Gale? You would consider us friends, correct?”

A horrible, prickling feeling starts up the back of Gale’s neck.

“Of course. I hardly know of a situation where somebody could fight alongside you and not look upon our relationship with a considerable degree of amicability.” He responds, wetting his lips. Then, with a slight undertone of suspicion, “Why?”

“As if we are friends, like you and I have agreed.” Wyll goes on doggedly, somehow managing to give an entreating gaze with one eye hell-red-on-black and the other made of stone. “Then it would be right and proper of me to let you know of certain deductions I have made about your person. Correct?”

Oh, for the love of Mystra—!

“Out with it, then.” He mutters gloomily, seizing the bottle for a generous pour. “What, when, where, why, how?”

Wyll takes the bottle with a measure of trepidation, lips softly pursed in deliberation before he sets it down in the grass between them.

“Well, you remember the phase spiders. In the well?”

Gale lets out a piteous moan. “Please don’t remind me.”

“You were trying to cast magic missile on one of them, but its vermin-riddled servant was coming up behind you.” Wyll continues, “And no matter how Yuu and I tried to connect with your tadpole to warn you, it was as though we couldn’t reach it. As though it wasn’t there in the first place. And then Karlach shoved you.”

“And then Karlach shoved me.” He repeats numbly. The burn where her elbow got his ribs healed without a trace after one potion.

The memory of her horrified screaming when the arachnids swarmed her and somehow didn’t immediately meet a fiery demise will take a much heavier draught to recover from.

He groans, taking a too big swig from his goblet.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting something then, in exchange for not running me out of camp at first light.” He states, the wine making his inhibitions loose and speech spill freely. “Some arcane knowledge your patron has failed to provide? The retrieval of a family heirloom? Counsel from a former archmage?”

“What? No, I—!”

A muffled snort interrupts Wyll’s passionate rebuke. After watching the dog settle itself again by the fire with bated breath, Gale is drawn back to his drinking partner’s earnestness.

“I require counsel for…” Wyll pauses, considering. “A lot of things in my life right now. But. But more than that, I would be forever grateful for a friendly ear. Someone to commiserate with, without needing to plan and solve things that are beyond help.”

Gale swirls his cup and watches the small whirlpool of red.

“Hm. They are a bit of a doer, aren’t they?”

Wyll does not even ask who he means, just groans in a way Gale can sympathize with. “I—Yuu’s very capable, and Helm preserve me but I like them, but do they ever switch off?!“

“I”, Gale confides in his most conspiratorial tones, “Once saw them pull out that journal of theirs after speaking with Lae’zel and begin scribbling down a detailed synopsis of the conversation they’d just held. While we were inside the hag’s lair.”

Wyll stares at him, eyes bulging. He lets slip a bark of laughter he instantly muffles by clapping a hand over his mouth.

Gale can’t help the surge of pleased satisfaction that courses through him.

“Gods above, but that cannot be healthy. Leading every excursion out of camp, acting as arbiter within it, recording everything, concocting alchemicals, training with you and Lae’zel…” Wyll scrubs a hand over his head, frowning in annoyance when he bumps the horns sprouting from his brow. “I’m growing worried that we’ll wake one morning to find them expired in their bedroll from exhaustion.”

“They’re young.” Gale soothes, taking perhaps a larger gulp of his Ithbank than he originally intended. “Driven. I was much the same at their age, impatient to prove myself worthy to those who equaled me in skill but surpassed me in age. I think with some time and guidance from those in our company they ought to calm down somewhat, mark my words.”

Wyll sighs heavily and lists gently into Gale’s side, solid and warm. “I hope so, for all our sakes. But by the gods, I’m twenty four. I’m too young to be feeling old.”

Gale, in his mid thirties, does not comment on how old that particular comment makes him feel.

“Ah, be that as it may…” He trails off, scratching at the rim of the cup with his nail. “I hate to press, but can I be assured of your discretion in this matter?”

The fond smile that rewards this query near takes his breath away.

“Don’t worry, my friend.” Wyll squeezes his shoulder firmly. “I won’t tell a soul, I swear on mine and my father’s lives.”

Gale is unable to do much more than nod dumbly, soon deciding to turn in before he does anything too daring for sobriety.

It doesn’t keep Wyll from sharing that soft, secretly fond smile with him as they journey onwards, or share conversation in the evenings.

He’s certain it can’t be good for his heart.

***

“Oh, Gale darling~”

It’s almost pavlovian, how Gale’s shoulders hunch guiltily at the affectionate address.

“Astarion. How can I help you?”

“I’ve a sudden and uncontrollable craving for your company. Quite irresistable, I’m afraid. Come,” The pale elf beckons. “Won’t you walk with me?”

It’s a trap. It’s so obviously a trap that Gale would be fool to fall for it.

Astarion tilts his head, peering up at him from under his eyelashes.

Gale falls into step with the weary resignation of a sentenced man making his way to the gallows. Still, the walk is almost nice, getting to gaze upon nature in all its splendor as Astarion somehow manages to make nattering on about everything and nothing sound compelling and engaging.

Right up until he says, “…though that pales in comparison to what I heard you and Wyll talking about the other night, darling.”

All of the muscles in his body lock up like someone had enchanted him by mistake in place of their chest of valuables.

He sighs. “I don’t supposed I could convince you that I’ve no worldly clue what you’re talking about?”

“Hmm, maybe.” Astarion hums. “But then I began thinking about you seemed blissfully unburdened with flashbacks from the Descent when the little bard was conversing with our devil friend. Also the incident with the grease—”

“Yes, well, we don’t need to get into that.” Gale grumbles, wishing he knew how to craft a draught that represses those memories of his early tactical errors.

“Of course, I’m never one to kiss and tell.” Astarion places a hand on his chest, faux innocence practically leaking from every fiber of his being. “But, I might need to ask for a small favour in return. To ensure it stays just between us.”

Gale nods for him to divulge his demand.

“Well, first things first.” The pale elf backs him up against a tree in embrace that has blood rushing furiously to his cheeks. “I should probably let you in on my little secret. I just so happen to be what some colloquially refer to as a vampire.”

“Oh. You’re a vampire?” Gale repeats dumbly. Then, as several key details suddenly slot into place. “Oh fuck, you’re a vampire.”

The newly outed vampire has the audacity to roll his eyes. “Please, I’m a spawn, darling. No need to fret about my turning you. And while I’ve been getting by on animals, I need something more…potent to unleash my full potential.”

His nose, oddly cool now Gale takes note of it, skims over his carotid artery. “And you, my dear, have them all beat for potency.”

The proximity and near-intimacy of it is making Gale’s head spin, which is why he doesn’t think about any potential downsides, until Astarion’s pleased hum after his fangs sink in turns to a muffled sound of incredulity.

“Gale.” It takes him a moment to blink back into himself to register he’s being spoken to. “What the fuck is wrong with your blood?”

“Ah. Well.” He scuffs some of the leaves underfoot with the toe of his boot. “You recall the camp meeting I called last week about the orb of dread Netherese magic in my chest?”

“The what—?!”

“..re you there? Astari—!”

Gale jolts as Astarion springs away from him, the pair of them staring wildly at the unofficial leader of their merry troupe, who looks as mortified as Gale feels. “—Oookay, I did. Not mean to walk in on. You two?”

“You could sound less surprised, darling.” Astarion pouts silkily, not an errant drop of red to be seen.

“I’ll admit it wasn’t who my gold was on,” Yuu mumbles, almost too softly to hear. Gale can’t help but wonder what they mean by that as they raise their voice with a little cough.

“Look, I don’t care if you two want to sneak off and, and give each other hickeys—”

He can feel his cheeks warm violently at the implication. “That’s—!”

“I know, I know, completely none of my business, but.” Yuu comes to an abrupt stop. “Wait. Gale, are you—are you bleeding?”

Gale suddenly realizes the warm slide down his neck that he’d taken for nervous sweat is in fact a substance of the more sanguine variety.

“Erm.” He tries. “No?”

Astarion stares at him, eyes round with disbelief.

“Are you fucking joking?!” He demands, in the same breath as Yuu exhales, “Oh fuck, you’re a vampire. How the fuck did I miss that?!”

“Now, now hold on a moment!” Gale, sensing imminent disaster, steps between them. “Yes, he may be a vampire, but he’s hardly some, some bloodthirsty beast like the tawdry excuses for literature we’ve been scavenging would have us believe! It isn’t like we’ve been waking up to any one of us drunk dry during the night, is it? All five of us, yet Astarion has had the near, near deific self control to hold out until this very evening before requesting—quite politely, if I may add!—if I would find sympathy for his plight and contribute to his welfare so that he can continue to aid us to the best of his ability. As he has done thus far without acknowledgement of his sacrifices.”

Yuu raises an eyebrow at him. “And you agreed?”

He spreads his arms helplessly. “I—How could I not?”

Yuu glances warily between him and the vampire. They pinch the bridge of their nose and let out a sigh.

“If we arrange a voluntary feeding schedule, would that help, Astarion?”

For a moment, the vampire just stares at the two of them, mouth agape.

Slowly, he nods.

“We’ll go over exact amounts and who’ll be participating later.” Yuu announces brusquely. “I need to gently break the news to the others first. Give me an hour, and I should have everyone on the same page.”

“Thank you,” Gale clasps his hands in their direction. “Your foresight is invaluable, as always. You won’t regret this, I promise.”

The would-be bard raises a blithe hand in acknowledgement as they crunch through the leaves back to camp.

“I’m genuinely unsure whether I should kiss you or kill you.”

He blinks at Astarion. “Erm? W-Well, I’d rather. Rather the former than the latter if it’s on the table. Though please don’t take it as an obligation of some kind! I never had any intentions of indebting you to me.”

“Please.” Astarion drawls as he slinks over, looping his arms once more around Gale’s neck. “How could I let such a…gallant defense go unrewarded? And our little bard did say we have an hour, after all…”

“Oh!” Gale says. Then. “O-ohh…”

And, as a gentleman of discretion and valor, he will draw the curtain on the scene there.

***

“Hey, soldier!”

Karlach falls into step next to him as they trudge through the Underdark. Up ahead, he can faintly make out Astarion and Yuu quietly conferring about whether their crossbow or his bow would be more suitable for removing the red glowing mushrooms that litter their path to the wizard’s tower.

“So,” She says, waggling her eyebrows at him saucily. “You and Fangs, eh?”

“Fangs?” He repeats, confused.

“Astarion,” She clarifies. “Even with the donation system and all that, he seems to be sweetest on you. You two a thing at all?”

“Ha! Ah, I’m not sure.” Gale demurs. “On the one hand, even if I have to disagree with your definition of “sweetest”, he has been the perfect gentleman when he’s not busy driving me round the bend. On the other, he apparently managed to tune out all of my explanations about the Netherese orb currently residing in my chest. Claims he was too distracted by my boots, of all things.”

“They are nice boots,” Karlach observes, which does make Gale preen. “Was a bit more taken with you kneeling while pressing Yuu’s hand to your chest, m’self.”

“That was for practical demonstration.” He stresses, cheeks flushing with the belated embarrassment that’s dogged him since about fifteen minutes afterwards. “I could hardly expect you all to take me seriously without proof.”

“Right, and your proof usually involves you getting on your knees, does it?” At his indignant splutter, Karlach lets out a laugh that’s no less lovely for how it resembles a bray rather than bells tinkling. “Joking, I’m joking Gale. Though, if you’re not with Fangs, would you instead say that you’d been involved with Shadowheart? Since the tenday before last? Loudly?”

“Shadowheart? What in—” Gale suddenly notices how his conversation partner’s eyes keep darting to the tailless tiefling a few meters away from them, recalls their comment from the evening Astarion’s secret had been revealed. It all clicks.

“Wait. You aren’t—are you betting on my love life?!” He demands, scandalized.

Karlach shrugs, tip of her tongue caught between the teeth of her unrepentant grin.

“Well, we’ve gotta do something for entertainment, don’t we? The others keep circling around you like they’re wargs and you’re a set of deep rothé ribs! And who can blame them? You’re a catch.”

Gale is for once extremely glad he can blame Karlach’s ambient temperature for the way his face suddenly and inexplicably feels burning hot.

“That’s—! I’m afraid you’ve the entirely wrong end of the staff if that’s your line of thinking.” He says stiffly. “None of them have any truly amorous interest in me, just discussing something. Something private.”

“Oh.” Karlach frowns for a moment.

Then she says, “What, did they work out you don’t have a tadpole as well?”

You’d think, after the fifth time such a revelation was made, Gale would be sufficiently prepared to not have a physical reaction to it.

You would be wrong.

“How?!” The words, meant to sound dignified if resigned, emerge with more of a trimming of petulant whine.

“Known ever since I met you.” She devastates cheerfully. “Got prowling around the Gate from Fangs, dragon’s fire from Lae’zel, training in the dark from Shadowheart, talking down mercs from Yuu, hunting me from Wyll, but from you? Nothing.”

“Ah.” He acknowledges. Then, “So, is that what happens every time you all meet someone new with a tadpole? You get a concentrated history of their past exploits through communication between the parasites?”

Karlach’s mouth twists as she considers. “Hm, I don’t think so? You can still keep secrets, else we’d have all known about Astarion a lot sooner. And the cult leaders woulda had us all killed the moment we walked in. It’s more like…snippets of that person? I’m not sure if it’s bits and bobs about them that are more like you or just what they think about themselves.”

“Fascinating,” Gale breathes. He’ll admit, given all the subterfuge he’s had to go through, he’s only been able to glean piecemeal information about the affliction.

After all, it’s hardly like he could just wander up to the others and ask them about it off-hand. Could he?

“Probably for the best you don’t have it, on the whole.” She stretches, toned muscles standing in stark relief with every movement. “Aside from the whole mindflayer-y thing, you at least didn’t have to deal with Yuu’s hangover in your head.”

Gale winces in commiseration. A lot of people had been plying their erstwhile leader with alcohol at the tiefling party, to the point where they ended up passed out in their bedroll halfway through the evening. From the way they still looked bleary after Shadowheart and Halsin cast Lesser Restoration on them the next morn, Gale would bet all his gold and then some that they’ve very little experience drinking so heavily, if any.

Still, he drums his fingers against his leg as he considers how best to broach this next bit.

“Although…you do understand if I ask that you not repeat this, please? Given that not quite everyone is…aware.”

“Course.” Karlach says, tapping the side of her nose. “Mum’s the word, eh?”

“Quite.” Gale wrings his hands together. He opens and closes his mouth. “And you don’t…want anything?”

Karlach tilts her head. “How’d you mean?”

“You know.” Gale makes a frittering notion with his hands. “Something to buy your silence, or what have you?”

“What?!” She looks askance at him, snorting in a way he finds unreasonably attractive. “What’s the point in that? You don’t want me to tell, so I won’t. Simple as that.”

He can’t help smiling broadly at her, at the way the flames licking off her skin reflect in the vents protruding from her shoulder, off the dancing humor in her eyes.

They both turn to observe their companions are taking potshots at the mushrooms and cheering when one of their projectiles manages to set off a chain reaction.

“Actually, there is something.”

Ah. Damn.

He tenses despite himself. “And what would that be?”

“When I get Dammon to fix my engine proper so I don’t burn anymore,” She decrees with the regality of a queen. “You’ve got to give me a big hug. A proper one. If you want to, ‘course.”

The sudden release of nerves is almost euphoric.

“I’ll hold you to that.” He vows.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #karlach #wyll ravengard #astarion #shadowheart #lae'zel #villainous paranoiac yuu #bloodweave #very shippy #yuu #tiefling bard #the reckoning #will be coming in the next part #it got too long for this one

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