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I think you've said and done more than enough. Leave me be.
With nothing but the waters of Grey Harbour lapping against the docks, Róisín can think of nothing else but these words. Any attempts to pen her in her logbook are lost as the phrase returns to the void of her brain. Her head hits the makeshift desk, and she loses herself with only the cool air of night and the light of Selune for company.
His words echo in what is left of her addled mind. Words said in malice, in disgust, looking down on her in both stature and spirit. She’d fallen in love with the man for the opposing reason, that he never made her feel small akin to her Dwarven stature as others have always been wont to do, even when grandstanding his own prowess. He treated her as an equal, always.
At least, he had… until that moment in Wyrm’s Rock, after watching the coronation of a pitiful excuse for a man as the dreadlord of Baldur’s Gate. Where that scrotum in a fancy robe paused his own “crowning” to reveal the truth of her past, of her shared history with him and all their misdeeds in the name of their wicked gods.
Róisín was responsible for it all: the Absolute, the tadpoles, every last part of the whole plan. With Enver Gortash at her side, and not just in allyship if his tone revealed anything. The thought of that partnership made her sick with dread and disgust. She did not know, could not know, because of what someone had done to her. Most likely Orin had been the culprit, if their shared Bhaalspawn nature held any weight. At the time, the knowledge of her past threatened to return her morning meal upon the gilded floors of the coronation hall. Even now back at camp, the memory of that morning spoiled her appetite.
The entire day had been a whirlwind as she learned about her previously unknown history in real time with the others, either through prophetic dreams or real conversations. All she could do was hold her own and try her best to keep a cool head while managing all the social aspects and the implications of her previously unknown history, all while trying to determine how she'll move on knowing she caused all of this. How they all would, if it were possible. She needed to put all of her emotions behind a mask and keep a straight face so they can figure it out later as a team... only for her best friends to get angry with her for a history she can't remember and the love of her life to look at her with disdain and loathing.
Her love, the man who knew the feeling of abandonment on a level she would likely never feel even after she faces Orin and her father in turn, the man who chose to defy the same goddess just to be with her not a tenday ago… Gale Dekarios abandoned her just when she needed him most.
At least, that’s what it felt like. Feels like.
After speaking with the enthralled Ulder Ravengard, learning of Florrick’s fate in the prison, and breaking the counselor out for good, Róisín finally transported them all back to camp to pack everything away for their trek into the lower city. The rest of her companions were in a similar state of shock, some even giving her a wide berth as she broke the news to the others. The empty space between her and her companions felt wider than the Gate itself. Even so, she would not fault them if they did not follow her into the Lower City. After all, she made this mess. It’s her responsibility to clean it up as best she can. It wouldn’t begin to fix all the harm, but it would be a start.
Róisín made her way into the lower city alone. They all clearly needed their own time to think, and the one person she would bring, come Hells or high water, was unfortunately not on any speaking terms with her. So she left camp in a flash, transporting herself back to the north side of Wyrm’s Rock to venture into the city. Like her companions, she needed her own space to think.
No one joined her at the campfire that night. They all took their portions of food Gale had pulled together from what they could scrounge up, but instead of campfire conversations, all her friends took their meals and left for their own bedrolls. Even Gale. And sure, a few answered the call to help take down Dolor before he murdered another innocent, and Astarion did his best at offering her a modicum of comfort, but they all needed time to process their latest news of the day.
That their leader wasn’t just a Bhaalspawn, but Bhaal's Chosen and the one responsible for their current plight. Well, former Chosen, but Sceleritas said she could reclaim it.
Over her dead body.
Wyll would have stayed, had vocalized his intent on keeping her company that evening, but Mizora and her goons stepped in with his contract and coerced him into an impossible choice. All before he even had a chance to sit down. Breaking the pact condemned his father, and he understandably needed time to grieve. Until Róisín figured out a way to defy an infernal contract and save Ulder Ravengard anyway.
So here she is, at the end of the day. Cold, miserable, and alone. In her sorrow. And the only ones who will ever know it are the sheets of paper below her and the tadpole in her skull.
As the dread of loneliness settles in her chest again, she steps away from the table and her ledger to change into her nightshirt. Writing each evening normally brought her solace, something tangible that she could track ever since that first day on the beach. Writing down everything she could often helped make sense of the days, not knowing when the tadpole might take over and take what was left of her memory. Time in the mind flayer colony nearly destroyed her first ledger, so she saved whatever writings and blank parchment could be saved and purchased another when they reached Rivington. She had already half-filled the tome with everything her brain could not hold on its own, and she’d only had it for three days.
Róisín sits back down and opens the ledger to the next blank sheet of quartered parchment and starts her daily log again, taking notes for paths they still need to venture and people they need to face or ally with in the limited time they have before facing the Elder Brain.
Details from the past day wash over her: the dream of Sceleritas, of Orin, of her blood-soaked God of a father; Jahiera watching over her in the night, despite the menace swelling in her blood; telling her friends the truth, and their various responses from horrified to nonplussed and supportive. Meeting Gortash and discovering her direct involvement in creating the Absolute, the tadpoles… all of it. Everyone’s disappointment in her, fear and anger building behind their eyes.
And then his words return with a vengeance, echoing in the hollows. I think you have said and done more than enough, Gale had said, looking down on her as if his gaze alone could turn her to stone. Leave me be. Affirmative. Abrupt. Final.
She cannot imagine any way back to before. To nights under stars real and conjured, to tents charmed with silencing spells to ensure no one would hear their ministrations. To discussions of home cooked meals and nights on the balcony overlooking the sea, wine and familial company to spare. To promises of a better future together, something of their own making. All of this is gone now. Silent tears fall from her cheeks to hit the pages below, thinning the ink into splotchy circles or streaks of black into gray.
Róisín is alone once again. Well and truly… alone.
Several moments pass in silence. She should give up for the evening and just lay in her bedroll, tucked far away where no one can chance upon hearing her. So she does, deciding to let herself cry just for tonight. They have bigger issues to face come daylight.
Róisín readies herself to stand and travel to her bedroll when the sound of shuffling feet on cobblestones rises above the lapping of the waves and the crackling fire. Someone likely unloading their pack into the shared travel chest , she determines, or perhaps using their makeshift loo before turning in for the evening. In either case, they make great efforts to be silent and not strike any conversation with her, understandably so. She lost them all long before today, even if she'll never remember what she had done in Bhaal's name. She could never deserve them anyway. Either she’ll go it alone, or they can solve the rest of this horror without her. They're more than capable.
She turns to an empty page at the back of the ledger. Róisín wills her tears to calm as she picks up the quill once again to write her goodbye, but a sniffle sneaks out and gives her away. As if they would even care about you right now, a voice deep within her soul offers up. She cries again.
More shuffling hits her ears, followed by a mite nasal but warm timbre of concern approaching her. “My love, what's wrong?”
“Oh, so you are still talking to me then.” She feels the mirth in her tone more than she hears it, the words metallic and bitter as she speaks them into the pages before her. She remains seated, stoic and stalwart, unable to turn and meet his gaze burning a hole into the back of her head. “You don't have to pretend to care anymore. I understand perfectly well how you feel.”
The sniffle that betrayed her before could not compare with the sob that escapes her chest. She understands, but that does not make his prior dismissal hurt any less.
Gale walks over to her, knees hitting stone with a force she knows he’ll regret in the morning.
Not as much as he regrets you .
Another cry, more seen than heard, coaxes its way out of her chest, and Gale wraps his arms around her faster than she can object.
“I'm here, my love,” he whispers, lips pressing against her ear. “I'm not going anywhere. And neither are you.”
Her body heaves in another cry, this time muffled by Gale's velvet nightshirt instead of her own willpower. She lets herself go in his embrace, collapsing in slow motion off the stool and into her former love.
Gale guides her fall into his arms, never once letting go. It is far from graceful, his human strength only able to accommodate for much but not all of her fuller dwarven figure, but Gale’s hold never falters. He pulls her closer as he gently sways back and forth. His hand finds a way to her hair, holding the back of her head like some precious babe instead of the murderous pervert she is destined to become.
Róisín's tears eventually slow, though not to a complete halt. The soothing comfort of Gale's soft strength pulls her back to the surface from the depths of her own despair. That, and the scent of well-read tomes and lavender that make up the essence that is Gale Dekarios.
Lips press against the junction of her jaw before Gale pulls back just enough to see her face. His thumb caresses her cheek, likely wiping away her tear stains as gently as possible.
“I am so sorry, my love. Watching Gods, I have made a total and complete ass of myself today, haven't I?”
Maybe just a little bit, she thinks as she dips her head, laughing inwardly just so before deflecting.
She lets go of a shaky breath. “No. I am a monster. You acted as you should.”
“Róisín, no. I have done the unforgivable,” he muses, hand caressing her cheek and guiding her to look at him. “Yes, today we learned about a lot of terrible things you did in your past, but those days were behind you long before the nautiloid. But I hurt you by doing the one thing I swore I would never do to the woman I love with my entire being. In your greatest time of need, I turned away from you. My own self-absorbed thoughts took priority over your entire world being turned upside-down within a day's time, all while you did everything you could to save us to fight another day. I as a lowly man did unto you what was done to me by a Goddess, and that never should have come to pass.”
“Gale-”
“No, Róisín, you cannot write this off for me. I know what it's like to be cast aside, and yet I still chose to hurt you without thinking.” His hands shift to hold her face with gentle affirmation. “I should have been there to comfort you, to support you, to believe in you. We all should have, but especially me. And instead I gave you ire and pain to deal with on your own. I am so incredibly sorry, my love.”
Róisín takes a deep breath, grounding herself with the feeling of velvet beneath her hands, before looking up and tapping his forehead with hers. “And they say wizards aren't smart.”
Gale sighs with the slightest upturn to his lips. “I have never been so blind in all my life, and you know the depth of my, shall we say, ‘shenanigans’. To my shame, it took Astarion of all people to make me get my head out of my own ass and seek you out. Said I’d regret losing the greatest among us over hurt feelings about something you could not have remembered on your own.”
“Well,” Róisín laughs, leaning into his space, “at least one of you came to your senses over there. I'm certainly glad to know someone other than myself can keep the one and only Gale Dekarios on his toes.”
“You, my little rosebud,” he teases with a gentle tap of his finger to her nose, “do so much more than just keep me aloft. You are my everything. I swear to you now, I will stand by your side, come Hells or high water, in everything you do.
“Even when we face Orin and my father?”
Gale nods. “Even if we cannot rid ourselves of these tadpoles and become destined to live forever as mind flayers. And I promise to never stop reminding you of my devotion to you. As long as you'll have me.”
“Really now?” She smirks at him, lazily wrapping her arms around his neck. “Well then… I may just need to keep you forever, if you'll allow it.”
Gale smiles, the joy reaching his eyes in the silvery moonlight as he leans towards her, closing the gap as he speaks against her lips. “I think forever can be arranged, my love.”
As they kiss under moonlight and the crackling fire, Róisín knows this conversation is not entirely over. She will have to pull herself together like the strong, powerful sorcerer she is and talk to her friends come morning. Their relationship may be strained, may never be the same as it once was no matter how she hopes to return to those times. But she is willing to try. And knowing she’ll have Gale beside her all the while? Well, she's pretty sure she can handle anything this messed up life can throw her way.