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willemerdekarios · 2 months

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QUE CHUTE NO ESTÔMAGO ✨🤩

I Wanted to Be Angry | AU - Sagora & God!Gale One Shot

I was super in my feels a while ago, and started writing this. Finally finished it, and decided to share it here. It's also on AO3 if you'd rather read it there. While these are the same characters as my The Weave and the Vines Series on AO3, this is an Alternate Universe ending for them. It's sad. Get tissues...or hug a pillow. Tags: OC death, major depression, very angry Astarion, minor mention of blood, and Astarion is rather foul with Gale at one point. Like I said. Big Angy. Snippet: “I need to be more than ‘fine,’ Sagora. I could be great. A perfect being to guide others in their ambitious pursuits. There’s far more out there for me. I know it. I’m sure Mother and Tara will understand.” Word Count: 3,089 Fic below the cut

He just…left.

Walked away. - - -

“Sagora, My Love…I’m sorry. But, if I don’t do this – I’ll never know what could have been.”“But, Gale –”“– If I am fortunate enough to succeed, I’ll come back for you. I promise.” His demeanor was cavalier, smug even. As if his action was as simple as taking a stroll to the market, and choosing a loaf of bread. These trifles of mortal life seemed all too beneath him now.“Come back?? Gale, what about Waterdeep? Your mother? Tara?? What about me? I don’t want what you want. I told you that. You’re fine as you are.”“I need to be more than ‘fine,’ Sagora. I could be great. A perfect being to guide others in their ambitious pursuits. There’s far more out there for me. I know it. I’m sure Mother and Tara will understand.”“They won’t. I don’t. After all that we’ve been through? The plans we made…you’d throw it away just like that?”

“No, Darling, of course not!” He braced his hands on her shoulders. “I’m just paving the way for even better plans, that's all.”She stood there. Blank. Her mind was a blur of all the words he said in an incoherent fog. Gale gave her a small pat on her arm, pulling her out of her daze. All she saw next was him walking away. No kiss goodbye, nor a hug…not even a wave. He simply took a step and vanished, everyone staring into his direction in disbelief.

- - -

Sagora punished herself by traveling to Waterdeep without him. His mother and Tara deserved to know, though with what little she knew of Tara, she imagined that the winged feline was already well aware of Gale’s decision. Still, she felt responsible to his family somehow.

By the time she arrived there, it was clear Tara already shared the news. Sagora would have been surprised if she hadn’t. Morena wore black, her face veiled as if Gale had been deceased. Though, the way he left felt so abrupt he might as well have been. They all grieved the loss of the man they knew – the son, the friend, and the lover.

Morena handed Sagora a tarnished key with silky purple ribbons attached to the end. “Here, my dear. Stay as long as you like.” She asked Tara to guide her to Gale’s abandoned tower as they embraced and parted ways.

***

It was a picturesque front step with iron railings, ornate wooden doors, and wispy, overgrown vines clinging to the stonework. She slotted the key into place, and with a click she opened the heavy door. Immediately, the smell of parchment, dust, and sandalwood wafted in her face. Tara quietly walked beside her as she slowly perused each room, only speaking up to give information or guidance on her stay. The last room at the top of the stairs was the only room she knew – the room Gale showed her on their first romantic night together.

“Thank you for your help ,Tara…but – I think I need to be alone now.”

“Of course. Use this should you need anything.” She pawed at a sending stone that sat on a nearby table before flitting her wings, and leaving the tower through the terrace. Sagora sank to her knees, and wept. Everything smelled like him. He was everywhere within these walls. Every book, decoration, and piece of furniture had been touched by his gentle hands. It was as if she was touching a fragment of his soul left behind. By the time she reached his bedroom, seeing the very real bed of the illusion he once conjured for her, she collapsed into the mattress, moaning and whimpering with no more tears left to cry. It didn’t seem possible after all this time, but somehow, his scent still lingered on his sheets. There was even a stray hair on his pillow. She pulled the pillow against her, cradling it the same way she would hold him with her head on his chest. She clutched it tighter, breathing him in, and finally drifted into a deep, grief-stricken slumber.

***

Astarion arrived in Waterdeep about two months after Sagora’s arrival. Gale had mused about his tower enough on their travels that he was able to find it without too much trouble. A dull, brassy name plate embossed with ‘Mr. Gale Dekarios’ was the confirmation he needed of his successful arrival. The delicate vines were now thick, and burrowed into the cracks of the masonry, damaging the once pristine tower. Astarion found it odd that some of the vines had thin tendrils sneaking their way past the gaps in the door.

He knocked. No Answer. Again. Still nothing.

The lock on the door resisted his attempts at first, but his usual finesse with locks made it easy enough for him to covertly wiggle the mechanism free, and invite himself in. He stepped inside, shrugging off his winter coat, and scanned the room before him. The scene was nothing like Gale had described on their adventures. The floors, walls, and everything between had been shrouded in leafy vines. Some thick, and hardened, clinging to the floor. Others were newer, but devoid of any vibrancy. Not a single flower in sight. Thorns pricked into the delicate pages and covers of his books, papers strewn about, and decorations displaced. Not surprisingly, a statue of Mystra lay crumbled and broken beside Gale’s desk. What was once Gale’s sanctuary, had now become an overgrown forest – sad, and abandoned.

“What in the bloody hells…Sagora??” She mindlessly walked through the room. She was pale, gaunt, her shimmering auburn hair now a dull and matted tangle. No longer was her hair beautifully braided. It hung lifelessly, overgrown and unkempt, like the vines that choked out the walls and books they hung on. Out of her flesh, grew more vines that dragged along the floor with every step she took. Fresh and dried blood congealed around the roots that protruded from her body. In all his years, he had only read of this phenomenon. The Decay. It was merely the stuff of legend, but here he was, standing before a druid who had renounced her magic and her god, allowing shadow and grief to consume her before she painfully succumbs, and returns to the earth. She didn’t even regard Astarion when he rushed to her side, abandoning his coat to the floor. There was horror in his gaze, his words caught in his throat, rendering him speechless. “I’ve got letters.” she croaked, still never looking away from the path she made in the floor from her pacing. She strayed mindlessly to the desk, retrieving a small bundle of sealed letters addressed to each of their friends.

Astarion grasped her shoulders, and angled his body to look in her eyes. They were milky, and glazed over, drained of almost all of their color. “Sagora, where’s the cat? And Gale’s mother? Why haven’t they come for you!?” She stared blankly beyond his form. “Dead. Tara first. Morena next. Too sad.”

“Why in the fucking hells didn’t you come back then?! You idiot!”

“…Sorry.” He sighed. “We need to get you out of here.” He tried to tug at her arms, but her feet planted firmly to the ground beneath her. “Sagora, come on. We need to get you help.”

“No.” She slowly walked past him, almost disregarding his presence, and stepped out onto the terrace. Astarion followed close behind, afraid she might jump. Instead, she sat in Gale’s favorite spot as twilight set into the sky above.

“Everyone’s got a letter.” Her words were painfully slow, and forced. “You got two.” Astarion looked down at the bundle, and found two envelopes addressed to him. One, was a beautifully written ‘goodbye’ outlining their time together, and how she cherished their friendship. The other was a set of instructions for her inevitable end. He was not often one to get emotional, but knowing the cause of her consuming grief was enough to bring forth hot, angry tears that brimmed his crimson eyes.

“Can you see the stars?” Her willingness to speak surprised him a little, but it was better than her staring blankly into the void in silence. “Yes.” He spoke softly, more gently than before. He sat beside her, a book the only thing creating distance between them except for the tangled foliage that hung from her body. ‘The Art of the Night,’ etched in gold leaf along the spine, was one of the few books in the tower that hadn’t been consumed by the decay she created.

“I’m glad.” They sat in silence for a while, Sagora still staring blankly at nothing. While winter raged outside, the terrace remained warm – a lingering enchantment Gale had left behind.

“Astarion…”

“What is it, Darling?” “Thank you."

He took one of her hands into his, she was icy to the touch, colder than even himself. Hastily, he searched the tower for the warmest blanket he could find, and draped across her shoulders, though something deep in the pit of his stomach told him it would be for naught. He pulled her in close, arms protectively encircling her wilting frame. His breath hitched as he noted the sound of her weakening heartbeat as it progressively slowed to a dangerous rhythm.

“I’m glad…you came.”

“Of course.” He whispered, wanting to hear her fragile, shallow breaths, his only assurance that there was still some sign of life deep in her bones.

“A–sta–rion?” “Yes?” “Can…y-you…still s-see…t-the stars?” “Yes. I can.” He nodded, his lip quivering trying to bite back his tears.

Sagora’s lips curled into a faint smile. “G-g-ood. I’m so gl-aad. Th-thank you.” She rested her head on his shoulder, and released a gentle sigh as the life that remained slipped away. Astarion shifted, cradling her head so he could gaze at her, but there was little to see. Her soul was gone, and all that remained was an empty shell of the woman she once was. She was gone.

***

The party was meant to be a celebration, a way for the heroes to gather, and share stories of their lives after the absolute. While they did their best to celebrate Sagora’s life with drink in hand, and a song in their hearts – something they knew she would have wanted – a thick cloud of grief and anger hung in the air. As everyone threw back one drink after the other, sharing tales of her heroism, and friendship, a radiant light materialized from the heavens. A familiar figure descended before them, shimmering, his silvery exterior almost reflecting the moonlight.

“Ahh, what a quaint gathering! Though, I’d forgotten just how many different smells there are in the material plane.” The ethereal figure gazed around at the decor and celebration.

“Gale…” “Astarion! How good of you to recognize me! Though, I’m a bit surprised you could handle my intimidating presence so easily.”

“It’s not that fucking intimidating…” Karlach’s gaze was hot, and her infernal engine flared. “Oh, well, perhaps not for one as foreboding as you, Karlach. Lovely to see you’re back from the hells.”

“Wish I could say the same.” She scowled, as did the others, all gazing at Gale angrily.

“Hmm. I’m sensing some hostility. Surely, my presence isn’t that commanding. We’re here to celebrate, are we not?” His smug grin was the last straw for Astarion. Every word Gale said was pompous, and brimmed with arrogance.

“Gale, do us alllll a favor, and fuck off will you?”

His brows furrowed. “I hardly think I am deserving of such hostility, but no matter. I can see how my new appearance could make you all ill at ease. I’ll leave as soon as I find Sagora. Is she here yet?” Astarion clenched his fists hard, his eyes widening, and breathing ragged. “Ohh…Oh, she’s here, alright.” He reached for a large, potted tree sapling that sat on the table, and one of the envelopes Sagora had left with him. With a hard shove, he thrust the sapling into Gale’s shimmering chest.

He held the plant, examining it for a moment, puzzled. “Very funny, Astarion. Where is she?” “She’s there…in your hands. I hope you can find a sunny fucking spot to stick her in.” Gale sighed, his tone increasingly more irritated. “You’re a lot more childish than I remember. If she doesn’t want to see me, then just say so, so I can leave.” “SHE CAN’T SEE YOU, YOU FUCKING TWAT! SHE’S DEAD!” Gale’s face went blank. If the color could have drained from him it would have. The words rang in his ears, and he hoped he heard them wrong. “She’s…what?” “Dead. She’s dead. Died in YOUR tower, by the way! By the time I made it to Waterdeep, I found her just in time to hold her in my fucking arms as she drew her last gods damn breath. Left alone to her grief after your mother and cat died.” Gale breathed in sharply. Before he could utter a sound, Astarion continued his rage-filled tirade. “Every book, every surface, all of it consumed by her vines! Her grief LITERALLY grew around her! They grew out of her body, draining the fucking life from her! YOU KILLED HER!” He stepped closer to Gale, nearly pressing against him, and an angrily pointed finger in the face of the God of Ambition.

“I hope you’re happy with your choice. Now you get to live with it. For eternity.” Astarion gritted his teeth, his breaths shaky and wild. As he started to walk away, he spun on his heels to face Gale once more. “Don’t you dare spill a drop of that soil. Her ashes are in there. You did this to her, now you can be responsible for her. For some fucking reason, she still wanted to be with you. Now she can. Don’t forget to water her, either.”

Gale stood, frozen, staring at the small sapling in his ethereal hands. He was too busy becoming a powerful god to concern himself with the trifles of mortals that he even disregarded the ones who loved him the most.

He grazed his fingers along the top of the soil. Its earthy smell was strong, stronger than he expected it to be. He set the sapling down on the nearby table, and opened the letter. He rubbed the parchment between his fingers to remind himself what it felt like. The texture was familiar, but fleeting, unable to truly recall the sensation he used to know so well. His mind buzzed as he tried to find focus on the words in front of him while he felt the hot stares of those who he once regarded as friends.

Gale,

If you’re reading this, it means I am no longer among the forest and the wolves. The day you left was the day I pronounced you dead. It was the only way I thought I could cope with how you walked away from me. How cold you were. How very misguided.

I traveled to Waterdeep, hoping to at the very least apologize to your mother for failing her…for failing you. She was dressed in black when I arrived, already informed of your folly by your dear friend, Tara who thankfully took pity on me instead of clawing my eyes out.

I wanted to be angry. I wanted to hate you. But, I just couldn’t let you go. My heart wouldn’t let me. Your mother handed me the key to your tower, and allowed me to stay there as long as I wished. I only meant to stay for a day or two, but something held me within these walls.

I wanted to forget you…to move on. I wanted to return to my grove. But, I just kept crying. It didn’t help that Tara had disappeared. Days went by before we found her curled up in a hiding spot she must have made for herself under the porch. She went there to die. No goodbye. Losing her and you so closely was all too much for your mother though. At least I got to say goodbye to her, and beg for her forgiveness. It’s my fault you left. I didn’t say the right things to make you stay. Maybe I didn’t love you enough. I wasn’t convincing enough. Perhaps I could have tried harder. I filled my days with endless wondering if there was more I could have done to keep you.

I miss you. Your smell, your laugh, that adorable smirk you always gave me. I miss the way you touched me. I miss your hands, and the way they explored my body when we made love. You were always enough for me. I only wish I had been enough for you.

You were right about one thing though. The gods don’t care about us mortals. Mystra showed you that, and then you showed that to me. I gave up Silvanus. I refused to give him more of my power. Power he doesn’t need. He’ll just take it from another unfortunate soul. He doesn’t care about me. I don’t know if he ever did.

It’s getting harder to see now. Perhaps he’s punishing me for abandoning him, or maybe it’s The Withering. It doesn’t matter now. It’ll be over soon.

I hope you got what you wished for…that Godhood was all you wanted it to be.

I hope you know that I’ll miss you. That you still hold my heart. Even as I succumb, and condemn myself to the Wall of the Faithless.

I love you. Always.

- Sagora

Gale’s hands trembled as he held the parchment in his ethereal hands. His composure was slipping, the veil of his foreboding stature was falling away, and there was little to stop it. He briskly gathered the sapling with a hushed apology to his former companions, and blinked away, returning to his realm, which feels heavier…emptier than it did before Withers sent for him.

The odds of reclaiming her from The Wall were insurmountable. For as formidable as Gale was, he was no match for Kelemvor, and would surely cease to be if he were to dare enter The Death God’s realm, and disturb the balance.

So this is it. ‘Gale’s Folly.’ The God of Ambition, doomed to grieve for an eternity, and suffer the consequences of his actions.

He gazed sorrowfully at the sapling before him, carefully rolling one of the leaves between his fingers.

“Forgive me…my love.”

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