Chapter Text
Chapter Three
I once believed love would be (black and white)
But it’s golden
And I can see it all (in my head)
“Daylight,” Taylor Swift
With the camp so quiet—Lae’zel was in the forge with Dammon, Astarion was sulking in the inn, Halsin was with the Fists, and Gale occupied with studying the curse—she took the opportunity to take a long, uninterrupted bath in the river. They’d made it safely back from reconnoitering Moonrise Towers, and their run-ins with the surviving Thorms in Reithwin left her skin crawling. Safely within the boundaries of Isobel’s wards, Zarra stripped and washed her clothes first, leaving them flat atop a large boulder to dry, before diving into the tepid water. It was clean and clear, glowing silver in the light of the Selûnite’s magic, and she sighed delightedly at the quiet.
She worked the herbal soap over herself, scrubbing away all the blood and dirt and shadow ichor, and relaxed as her skin grew clean once more. Once she felt refreshed, she soaked her hair and began thoroughly cleaning it too. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so alone, but it was rejuvenating. As much as she’d come to care for the others over the course of their adventures, there was a certain peace she missed while alone. It gave her the opportunity to be still, to simply exist within her own skin, and steady her mind.
That was exactly what she did then. Zarra absently worked the sponge over her skin, soaping herself as her thoughts slipped to Gale. They’d slept together last night, and it was the best rest she’d gotten in years. He’d kept her wrapped in his arms all night as if he was afraid she’d vanish if he let go. Zarra didn’t mind it one bit. She felt safe pressed against him, held close and kept warm. When they’d woken, she’d greeted him with soft, sleepy kisses. His answering smile was sweeter than honey.
They’d spoken quietly for a while, limbs tangled together and eyes heavy, before moving once the camp began to stir. Even when it came time to part, their fingers had twined and he’d pulled her in for another lingering kiss. It was the best morning she’d had in ages.
She loved him. Gods, did she love him.
But how was she supposed to take that final, petrifying step of telling him when he was still set on killing himself for his goddess?
Shadowheart had snuck her some hair oil, delicately scented with roses, and she worked it through her soaked locks. Zarra hoped it would help revitalize the curls she’d been neglecting and wrestling into braids in their travels. She took the time to comb out every tangle in her hair as she ruminated on her problem.
A part of her, the romantic side that believed in good triumphing over evil and love conquering all, hoped that the admission would be enough to make him keep living. She hoped that she would be reason enough. Her heart twisted at the thought of having countless mornings just like this one. She wanted to wake up in his arms again, wanted to fall asleep with his body warming hers. She wanted languid kisses and sleepy eyes. She wanted a future with him.
But that hope was tempered by the bitterness of reality. He’d received orders to cut his life short from his goddess, from the source of all magic, his ex-lover, and his once-mentor. The possibility that he was simply filling his last days with something pleasant—the chance that he was just passing time with her—sat at the forefront of her mind. The idea instilled her with such a poignant, frigid ache that she half-expected to find the water turning to ice around her. Gale was an honorable man, she knew, and not the sort to toy with someone’s heart for his own amusement.
Despite the rational part of her mind telling her that he wouldn’t hurt her that way, she couldn’t shake the fear. The only way to resolve it was to be brave and tell him. But she just couldn’t risk it.
She didn’t think she could open her heart only to watch it blow up.
When her comb glided easily through her hair, and when her fingers started to prune, she dragged herself from the water. She dried off with a clean sheet, wrapping it about herself and hauling her belongings back to camp. Once dressed, and once her spare clothes were hung out to dry, she padded towards the smoldering campfire with the aim of starting on the evening meal. The camp was quiet, eerily so in the midst of the curse.
It sent a shiver down her spine that was only partially due to her wet hair hanging loose and dampening her shirt.
“Good evening!” Gale’s cheery voice called, startling her.
“Gods dammit!” Zarra cursed, leaping up and whirling to face him with her heart in her throat.
“I am here on behalf of Gale of Waterdeep,” the magically-shining simulacrum continued, totally undeterred by her reaction. “He wishes to extend you an invitation for a private conversation in a more suitable locale.”
“On behalf of Gale…?” She pressed a hand over her racing heart and shook her head. “Very well. Where is he?”
The projection gestured broadly, just like Gale would, and said, “Simply follow yonder path, and soon you will find him.”
Zarra suppressed a shiver as she wondered just how much of its creator’s mind the projection could see, and just how detailed a rendering it was. Despite the directions, she hesitated. “Is he… Is Gale alright?”
“Oh, yes,” said the projection, eyes crinkling with amusement. “Though the matter he wishes to discuss is most urgent.”
She nodded slowly and made her way down the path, giving a soft “thank you” as the projection blinked out. Her hands shook as she walked, filled with a nervous energy at Gale’s mysterious summons. The darkness of the curse pressed against Isobel’s magic as she walked along the curve of the protective bubble. She knew the wizard wasn’t in danger thanks to the projection’s cheery tone, but… Ice filled her stomach at her realization.
They’d infiltrated the cult and were well on the way to finding Balthazar, the person who could lead them further in towards the heart of the Absolute. Gale must have come to some sort of decision as they’d drawn closer to fulfilling Mystra’s command. If he was drawing her somewhere private while everyone else was occupied elsewhere, he must not want interruptions. Or for her to cause a scene.
Dear gods, he was going to do it.
She bit back a noise of anger and grief, its claws tearing at her throat to escape. Her heart was rending itself into shreds at the thought, but she had to shove it down. Instead, she focused on her anger and kindled its embers. She wasn’t going to make it easy on him. If Gale wouldn’t fight for himself, she’d do it for both of them. He wasn’t going to blow himself up without her putting up a fight.
She stormed around a bend and into a small clearing, fully prepared for an argument and, if need be, to tie him up and handle whatever awaited them at Moonrise Towers without him. Her ire came to a screeching halt as she took in the scene before her. Gale sat on a blanket in the heart of the clearing, sending stars up towards the sky—a sky she could actually see and not just endless, unchanging darkness. The light wasn’t that of the curse glow, but silver starlight and a rainbow of hues from the aurora dancing overhead. It took her breath away.
She’d seen an aurora once, years ago in the Spine of the World, and never thought she’d see another. Yet Gale sat there easily, having painted one across the sky. The grass was soft underfoot, a stark contrast to the dry crunch she’d come to expect from the region, and the air smelled of life, green and fresh. It was a pocket of peace and life and wonder in the middle of a desolate wasteland.
He sat there atop a blanket, stars floating up from his fingertips as he put the finishing touches on his creation. Zarra’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of him bathed in the aurora, his shirt open to reveal his throat and a peak at the light dusting of chest hair on his sun-kissed skin. He was a thing of beauty, lost in the rhythm of creation. She moved closer on quiet feet, her ire forgotten at the sheer beauty of what he’d made and in the beauty of the man himself.
Gale turned when her shadow fell over him, smiling up at her. “Care to join me?”
She sat beside him as gracefully as she could, shifting on the blanket as she tried to gauge an appropriate distance between them. After the previous days of open revelations and sleeping in his arms, she wanted to press close but wasn’t sure if it would be welcome. Perhaps it was something intended only for the quiet hours of the night when they were hidden behind the folds of a tent. Maybe this conversation wasn’t one he’d wish to touch her for.
Her bout of uncertainty didn’t go unnoticed for he moved closer to her until there was only a whisper of space between them.
“What is all this?” Zarra asked softly, relaxing at his nearness.
“This is a moment of peace,” he said, staring up at the sky he’d painted. “I love this time of night. There’s an almost reverent silence that accompanies the peace of darkness, when you’d almost believe the dawn will never break.” He waved a hand at the sky, voice reverent as he continued, “The cradle of eternity. The timelessness of lovers, that most beautiful of fantasies.”
Her skin heated when Gale turned his gaze to her with those words. She had no idea if he was talking about his love of the night, but she wanted so desperately to think he meant her that she allowed herself to pretend. Just for a moment.
“It’s breathtaking,” she agreed after a beat, shyly turning her face up to the aurora dancing overhead. “I take it the starry sky is your doing?”
“Indeed. The curse is still present, of course,” he said, turning to add a few more stars, “just veiled and at arms’ length for now. Not a trick I can repeat often, but tonight? Tonight is different.”
Zarra’s nerves clamored at that, all her earlier tension snapping back into place once more. She managed to croak out a single, pathetic, “Why?” and hated herself for how weak the one syllable sounded. So she forced herself to add, “And don’t you dare say this is your last night. I won’t hear it.”
“This may be my last night alive,” he said, nudging her with a teasing smirk. “There’s no point denying it. I wanted to spend it under a canopy of beauty and wonder… and with company to match.”
The intensity of his voice, the meaning shining in his bright eyes, lit something within her. It was so much. She couldn’t make sense of it—her temper flaring at the man arranging for his end without fighting against it; the shyness demanding she hide from the flattery; the desire to be bold and meet his soft declarations head-on; the anticipation of more dancing under her skin—so she allowed her hair to fall forward in a damp curtain around her face as she fought to sort through it all.
Gale trailed his fingers over a damp curl before leaning back to take in the view. “I thought this place might bring me peace. I thought it might make the weight of what I must do feel a little lighter… but now I’m not so sure.”
“I still don’t believe you ‘must’ do anything,” she argued, speaking deliberately and slowly lest her temper get the best of her. She wanted to drive the words home, lodge them in his brain so deeply that he started to believe them. “I refuse to believe this is the end, Gale. We’ll find another way, I promise you.”
“Thank you,” he said, drawing himself up to tuck her hair behind her ear with a smile. His fingertips danced over the delicate point and brushed against the multitude of silver hoods she wore. “Even if we do find another way, perhaps this is the right way. The end Fate wishes for me.”
Zarra shook her head in the negative. “Gods may be that cruel, but not Fate. She wouldn’t be so heartless as to take you from me so soon.”
“Then what does your Fate hold for me?”
“Time,” she answered. “Time for you to set your own course and come to trust yourself to find a better way—one that lets you live a long, happy life full of love and laughter, ideally.”
Gale huffed a quiet laugh at that. “Fate sounds oddly like you.”
“Because I’m wise,” she replied, gratified to see him smiling again.
“There’s no point in running from the inevitable,” he said, sobering once more and staring back up at the sky. “Better to meet it on my own terms. If the orb is going to detonate anyway, I may as well make it mean something good.”
“Nothing is inevitable.” She wasn’t ready to stop arguing with him, not yet. Even as she memorized the way he looked under the soft light, her heart was breaking. “I’ll do everything I can to help you find another way to be free of the orb. We’ll face it together. You don’t have to die, Gale. Please.”
Her increasingly-desperate words hung in the air between them for a long moment, almost tangible and entirely inescapable. Fear of letting him go, of watching him leave, fear of him never returning and never knowing drove her to add: “There’s still so much we haven’t done, haven’t shared—I… I want to have that time with you.”
He was utterly serious when he said, “One moment with you could sate me for a lifetime and pry the fear from my heart. I’m so very glad you came to share this with me.”
“Of course. How could I not?”
“I know this is all unreal, but I created it for you,” Gale admitted, struggling with himself to look at her as he worked to find the words. Zarra’s heart began to race at his determined frown and the red flush staining the tips of his ears. “You must know that you’re… That you’re very special to me.”
“Gale…” Her heart threatened to pound through her ribs.
“If things were different, if we were home, I’d have taken the time to do things properly. To say it all better.” He shook his head and raked a hand through his hair, making Zarra’s own fears calm at his display of nerves. “But time is short. I-I’m in love with you.”
She went utterly still as the words washed over her like a cool breeze on a summer’s day. Those were the most darling, most beautiful, most perfect words in the world, and hearing them from a man she adored made them that much sweeter. A laugh bubbled out of her then, happy and tearful, as the remaining walls around her heart sloughed away.
The joy started as delicate as a spider’s web before it was woven into silken ropes. Zarra had always chafed at such restraints, terrified of letting someone get too close and what it would require her to give up. But there was no such fear with Gale because, with him, she wasn’t losing anything—she was gaining everything . The ties between them had been there from the start and had been forged into something new, something strong in the intervening days and weeks. The trust she carried for him, the sheer love that didn’t know facts or figures but instead rested on the ephemeral, intangible parts of a person, wasn’t restrictive. It was a new kind of freedom. Hearing that he loved her too, knowing that it was reciprocated, well… If he obeyed his goddess, at least neither of them would wonder.
She knew that was why he’d said it, just as she realized that was the purpose of this moment. He wanted to give her peace and beauty, a truly magical moment to remember him by, if he perished. Some of it was for him, but she knew that he had done it for her . She promised Eilistraee then and there that she would devote herself to love him fully and unreservedly for as long as he would allow if he could only just live .
“I love you too,” she said, smiling as she dashed happy tears from her cheeks.
Gale’s quiet, almost disbelieving huff and the bright, bashful smile made her want to write songs extolling his virtues and her love for him. Anything to make him believe it and keep smiling for her.
“That’s a relief,” he said, gathering humor about him like a cloak. “It would be a shame to spend my final hours making an ass of myself.”
Zarra chuckled at that and leaned into him, needing to feel him against her. “Kiss me, please, or you’ll make an ass of yourself yet.”
“With pleasure.”
When his lips caught hers, she eagerly poured her heart and soul into him, hoping he could feel the truth of her words. She loved him and would not let him go another moment without knowing it. Her hands pulled him close as their lips and tongues danced languorously, but it wasn’t enough. Zarra boldly clambered to straddle his lap without breaking the kiss and sank her hands into his soft hair. He moaned at the feeling of her atop him, and it only encouraged her. The thick waves of his hair were silky between her fingers and the scent of him enveloped her, subtle and intoxicating. She ground against him and swallowed his gasp, shivering with pleasure when his large hands flew up to squeeze her hips.
She stilled then, unsure if she’d gone too far. Their ragged breaths puffed against the other, warming their skin and filling the space between them as they studied each other, mesmerized.
“You’re a good kisser. I hope that wasn’t done in parting…?”
His shy smile turned wicked with promise. “Not if I have anything to say in the matter.”
Gale shifted her off of him and rose to his feet, offering her a hand up. “I wish to be clear now: I lived the life of a hermit for some time before I met you—safer for all, but not conducive to the pleasures of the flesh. However much I want to make love to you, I will stop right now if you tell me you don’t want that. No matter what, I will do as you wish and do it happily.”
She pressed another kiss to the corner of his lips, utterly sure that he would do exactly that and respect her wishes regardless of whether they were simply talking or lost in a moment of passion. “I promise I’ll let you know if I’m not comfortable with something if you promise to do the same.”
“I promise,” he breathed.
“Good. Then let me be clear: I want this. I want you .”
He grinned down at her and looked positively boyish in his excitement. His hands came to rest on her waist and drew her into another kiss, chaste compared to the last. She didn’t mind. His touch reminded her that this was real. It wasn’t a dream. He was real and he loved her.
“I want it to be perfect—to bond with you in the way that gods do… intertwining our spirits in visions of the Weave.”
Zarra cocked her head at him, unsure what to think. They were surrounded by his mastery of the Weave already, awash in the careful brushstrokes of his magic. A part of her wondered if it was a grandiose figure of speech, except he actually had made love to a goddess. If he hadn’t promised her that there was no love lost between him and the Mother of Magic, she’d worry that this was a bid to feel close to the goddess once more. But Gale was a man of his word, and not the sort to declare love if he didn’t mean it.
With a blink, she realized that the last time he’d been intimate had been with Mystra in all the trappings of the Weave. Perhaps it was how he thought it should be; perhaps it was all he was comfortable with. Maybe he wanted to impress her with his magic because he didn’t think he would be enough as a mortal man.
She still didn’t understand what it entailed to bond in the way he meant, but she was open to finding out. Zarra trusted him not to steer her wrong just as she trusted him to respect any boundaries they might come up against.
“Show me,” she murmured, stroking a hand over his bearded jaw.
“How about the perfect night in Waterdeep? Yes…” Goosebumps rose over her arms as he gathered the magic about him. “Let’s imagine how it would be: Us in my tower after a beautiful day in the city.”
The scene changed with a flash of light and a wave of his hand, a rendering of a study flowing into existence around them as the clearing melted away. “The scene is this: You and I stand in the room that is the center of my universe.”
Zarra gaped at the extent of his magic, turning slowly to take in the details of his work. Plush, colorful rugs lined the parquet floors as bookshelves filled to the brim lined the walls. Leather bound spines gleamed in the dancing firelight emanating from the hearth with a merry crackle. The fire even emitted heat. Overstuffed armchairs were arranged before the hearth and surrounded by mounds of books, inviting her to curl up and read for hours. His desk, situated opposite the fire, was littered with papers, trinkets, and scrolls covered in his precise hand.
Music gently sounded from a corner, and she whirled to find the piano, drawn to it like a siren song.
Gale walked through the room, gesturing at the cluttered beauty of his study. “Sculptures, paintings, walls enlivened by the spines of a thousand books. The piano plays the Llirian Suites all by itself—”
She was already studying the instrument, listening to the song it played as the ivory keys depressed under the invisible fingers of his spellwork. It was a lovely piece of magic, and she loved the idea of listening to music at a moment’s notice, but there was none of the humanity she loved so much. Zarra longed to sit at the piano and play, filling the space with her own music and making him laugh at the silly flourishes or sigh for the melancholy pauses that no enchantment could recreate.
“You look like you belong here,” Gale breathed, drinking in the sight of her in the heart of his home.
Zarra smiled at that, running her fingers over the lid of the instrument before walking back to him. “Maybe I could. I-I think… I might like that. Someday. But come, show me more.”
He twined his fingers through hers and led the way towards a set of doors that flew open with a thought. “Here, as we look out beyond the arches that lead to the terrace, we see the weary sun take its daily dive into the sea.”
A cool sea breeze, laden with brine and the distant cries of gulls, washed over her and took her breath away. The sun warmed her through and she followed him towards the balcony to look out over the harbor below. Ships bobbed on the waves as the sun turned the water to molten gold. The sheer detail of his magic in summoning this was overwhelming. She’d known he was a gifted wizard, but the scene in the clearing and now this… If this was what Gale could create without access to the full extent of his abilities, she couldn’t begin to imagine what he was capable of at his full power.
When she turned to say as much, her words caught in her throat at the wrecked expression he wore. He looked out over the harbor, jaw set and shoulders too tight, just soaking it in. Zarra could imagine that he was taking a final look at his home, a place he clearly loved, for what may be the last time. She wanted to rail at him the way her heart hammered against her ribs, to shake him and force him to see sense. But she couldn’t. She’d said all there was to say, tried everything she could think of to convince him. The rest was up to him now.
She quietly drew back to let him have a moment with the place he loved, curling herself onto an upholstered bench situated in the shade by the terrace door. The ocean breeze skated over her skin and she breathed in the briny scent, allowing herself to fantasize about a life here. It was all too easy to imagine evenings spent with Gale on this terrace, either swept up in separate books or talking and laughing together over a glass of wine. She could imagine her lute resting near the piano, the collection of instruments and sheet music grown exponentially. She saw herself wearing his shirts and bringing him his morning coffee at the cluttered desk. She wanted those small, inconsequential moments with him that spoke of a broader life, comfort, a home .
When she came back to herself, he’d turned and was watching her with a soft, sad smile. “My favorite spot,” he said, nodding at the bench. “Many times, evening turned to night and back to daybreak once more while I sat here, lost in words.”
He joined her on the padded bench, his thigh warm and solid against hers. Longing to chase the sadness from his eyes, she cast him a smile and teased, “Up all night reading? I do love that rebellious streak of yours…”
“Allow me to live dangerously while I still can,” he answered in kind, reaching for a tome bound in buttery mahogany leather with erotic figures embossed in gold. “This one is called The Art of the Night . It details the first thousand nights of a newlywed king and queen. They turned everything they did into an art: The art of conversation. The art of taste, time honored and newly acquired. The art of the body. The exploration and acceptance of the self and the other. The art of the night itself. I say we take a page from their book.”
“I do love that you’re so upfront about your intentions,” she laughed breathlessly as she tried to process exactly what he was proposing.
“I am many things, but coy has never been one of them.” He tucked a stray curl behind her ear and trailed a single finger down her throat. “What do you say?”
“I say… I’m not entirely sure what you’re proposing,” she said honestly. “I mean, I understand the gist, but not the specifics.”
“There is a way for us to bond, to make love, that is purer than any other,” he said patiently, stroking his hand over the cover of the book. “Our souls would meet and intertwine in some of the most exquisite pleasure. It would be… beyond human, beyond comprehension. I could worship you the way you deserve, laid among the stars and bathed in sensation.”
“And our bodies…?”
“Would remain here, exactly as we left them,” he promised.
Zarra had to take a moment to think it over. She’d never had an encounter like the one he was proposing. Her past trysts had always been quick, physical joinings that were skin-deep at best. She wanted to do what would make him most comfortable, but she wasn’t sure she was comfortable stepping so far away from what she knew either. The fact that she loved him, had just told him as much, was a massive departure from her usually impersonal trysts. Beyond that, this moment with him would be the first time she’d willingly laid with someone she cared deeply for. It was a momentous occasion for her, and one she wanted to treasure. She wanted to feel his hands on her skin, to feel the weight of his body on hers, and feel the delicious ache the next morning to remind herself that it was real.
“Gale… I would like to do this with you, but…”
“Not tonight?” He smiled softly and placed the book on the side table nearby. “Are you sure?”
She nodded, meeting his gaze carefully. “I want to be with the real Gale—the man, not the fantasy.”
He dropped a kiss to her temple and, with a snap of his fingers, Waterdeep vanished. They were back in the clearing with the aurora shimmering overhead once more. “The old ways, then. If that is what you wish, then so be it.”
With another precise gesture, a bed appeared behind her. At her startled laugh, Gale shot her a smirk. “A small gesture towards your comfort.”
Zarra threw herself back on the bed, laughing as the downy mattress absorbed her weight. After weeks of sleeping on the hard ground, the soft bed was heavenly. The cool brocade of the duvet was smooth against her skin, and she hastily kicked off her shoes before crawling further into the luxurious bed. Gale watched her happily as she settled, smiling softly at her simple delight, but she wasn’t self-conscious. Quite the opposite.
His easy adjustment, his attentiveness emboldened her. So she threw him a sly grin and patted the bed in invitation. He answered wordlessly, taking her hand and kneeling between her legs for a long moment before settling atop her. The warm, solid weight of him had the embers of desire glowing once more. She loved the feel of him, so real and all hers.
Gale rested his forehead against hers and let his eyes flutter shut for a moment as he steadied his breathing.
“Is this alright?” she breathed, cupping his jaw and stroking her thumbs over his cheekbones. “If it isn’t, we don’t have to do anything. I—neither of us should do anything we aren’t comfortable with.”
“Forgive me,” he murmured, words puffing over her skin. “I—it has been at least ten years since I was with someone like this. I must admit that I am nervous. The last thing I wish is to disappoint you or fall short of anything you might have imagined.”
She shifted up to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “The only way I’d be disappointed is if you did something you didn’t wish to.”
“Oh, I wish to do this, believe you me.” His lips curled in a grin, the promise in his voice reassuring her that he wanted her.
“But you’re worried I might find you lacking,” she said, shifting so that her thighs enveloped his hips. “ ‘Chev , I don’t think that’s possible. Do you know how many people have made me feel this way without ever laying a finger on me?”
Gale’s brows flew up at that and he went utterly still in her arms. “I’m not sure I want to—”
“None, save you.” She dropped a kiss to the underside of his jaw, delighting in the little shiver that danced through him. “You make lightning dance under my skin with a brush of your hand against mine. You stoke a fire in my belly with a glance. Your kisses destroy me. I can’t begin to imagine what it will feel like when you fuck me, but I would love to find out.”
He groaned at her words and his cock stirred against her belly. “Don’t tease me.”
Zarra scowled up at him and rolled him off of her, sitting up to glower sternly at him. “Truth for a truth?”
“Yes…” he said, blinking up at her from where he sprawled.
“Do you want to do this tonight?”
“Yes.” The answer was firm and without hesitation. “And do you truly want this? With me?”
“More than anything,” Zarra told him, hoping he’d believe her. She took his hand in hers and pressed it over her heart, smoothing her hands to cover his and hold him in place. “I love you, Gale, and I want to show you exactly how much.”
He drew her into a kiss, sipping the truth from her lips and savoring the taste of her. She opened easily to him without hesitation, her lips moving with his as easily as breathing. He tore away with a broken groan to drop a line of kisses down her throat and over her collarbone. Shivers of pleasure echoed through her as his lips and beard scraped deliciously over her sensitive skin. Zarra buried her fingers in his hair, gently running her nails over his scalp. Pride twisted through her when his hips thrust shallowly against her at the touch, and she filed the reaction away.
She wanted to memorize him, to learn his likes and dislikes, to know his body as well as she knew her own. She needed to make him feel good and loved. As a bard, words came easily to her: she could summon a lie or talk someone into doing what she wanted; she could sing a song and spin a tale well enough to earn a living. But this was different. This wasn’t about flattery or obfuscation. What she was doing with Gale was real and true. She needed to show him just how much she meant what she said.
A part of her suspected that her actions and genuine reactions to him would speak louder than any pretty poetry she could spin anyway.
She ran her nails over his scalp once more before tugging his mouth back up to hers and kissing him until they were both breathless.
“Can I touch you?” she panted against his lips. Her hands tugged gently at the hem of his shirt to convey her meaning.
Without a word, Gale pulled the shirt over his head and discarded it over the side of the bed. Zarra blinked at his chest, bathed in hues of purples and blues from the aurora, and felt her mouth water. He was a beautiful man with a strong chest and a slight, soft belly dusted with dark hair. His hair tapered to a thin trail that disappeared beneath his breeches, and she itched to follow it to its end. But first…
“You’re beautiful,” she rasped before sealing her lips over his once more. Zarra swallowed his quiet noise and ran her hands over the soft skin of his chest as she kissed him fervently.
His hands snaked under her shirt to trace the muscles of her back, holding her tightly against him even as he blindly explored the span of undiscovered skin. Every stroke of his hands against her body sent streams of liquid fire spiraling through her, heating her from within.
She needed to feel more of him against her, needed his skin on hers. Zarra tried to continue kissing him, her lips nipping and tongue dancing with his, as she began wriggling her arms out of the sleeves. Her fumbling distracted Gale, and he pulled back to watch her for a moment before laughing.
“May I?”
“ Please ,” she huffed, raising her arms in defeat.
He had the loose shirt off of her in a trice, leaving her clad in nothing but soft leggings and the glow of the sky. She breathed heavily as he drank in the sight of her naked chest, modest breasts unbound and dark nipples pebbling in the night air. Scars littered her skin, some thin slashes of silver against her lilac skin while others were thicker knots of tissue that had not faded with time. She couldn’t help wondering what he saw when he looked at her. Did he see her multitude of flaws and imperfections, from scars to the silvery stretch marks on her breasts to the freckles dotting her skin? Or did he see someone made lovely by the love he held for her?
The moment dragged on and she grew self-conscious. No one had ever stared at her so—she’d never allowed it before. She was always certain to veil those encounters in dim light or utter darkness and guided only by touch. Her skin cooled without Gale’s touch and her earlier confidence flagged. His last lover had been a goddess, after all, and how disappointing it must be to see a mortal body after years of tangling with someone beautiful and powerful and unblemished by a hard life.
Zarra hurriedly shrugged her long hair over her shoulders, hiding herself behind the pale curtain and avoiding his gaze. “I don’t—I’m sorry…”
“Sorry? For what?” he breathed, moving towards her on his knees until he could touch her again. “Zarra, dearest, you are perfect . I’m sorry for staring, but you… the sight of you, open and trusting and just for me , chased all thought from my head. I get to see you and touch you and worship you—what a gift.”
She snorted at that, utterly convinced that such a thing wasn’t possible. Even now, she was positive that he had at least four other trails of thought unspooling in that brilliant mind of his.
“I mean it, my love,” he promised, ghosting kisses over her brow, her cheeks and nose, her chin. “Please don’t hide from me.”
“Alright.” She forced her spine to straighten and rolled her shoulders back until her posture was perfect. Her gaze didn’t stray from his as she tossed her curls back and exposed herself to him once more.
Gale pressed a sweet kiss to her lips and whispered a soft ‘thank you’ against them before asking, “May I touch you?”
She’d barely nodded when his hands, warm and calloused from wielding his staff, were on her waist. He experimentally followed the curve of her ribs up to her breasts and palmed the soft flesh, kneading gently and watching himself touch her. Her skin grew even hotter at his touch and desire coiled in her belly, winding and stretching pleasantly through her limbs.
He trailed his lips over the curve of her jaw and down the column of her throat, paying special attention to the spot on her neck that pulled little noises of pleasure from her, before he dipped lower. His soft beard tickled at the sensitive skin of her breast as he drew a nipple into his mouth. Gale laved at the dark peak, using his lips, teeth, and tongue to drive her mad. Every touch had her arching further into him, her hands knotted in his hair to hold him in place. When she was a panting, mewling mess, his talented mouth detached from her breast with a lewd pop and he turned to her other breast to lavish it with the same attention.
“Gale,” she breathed, lightly scratching at his scalp and tugging his hair enough to sting without true pain.
His hips rutted against her belly and she couldn’t suppress a chuckle. It would figure he’d enjoy a little pain.
“Pants off, please.” The request was muffled in her breast, the vibrations of his voice making her moan.
“How about you take them off for me?” Zarra knew her hands would be trembling too badly with the built up desire to undo the laces, so she hoped the invitation sounded less half-wild than she felt.
With a groan, he pressed her back and set about the task eagerly once she was laying down. She’d barely blinked before he was tearing the snug leggings off of her. He chuckled at the way she gaped at him, wiggling his fingers teasingly at her as if to say “magic.” He dropped them off the side of the bed and turned back to her, running his hands from her ankles to her knees as he drank in the sight of her bare before him.
“You’re beautiful , Zarra. You’re made for the moonlight.”
He dropped a kiss to the inside of one ankle as his thumb stroked circles on her other. He ran his hands up her legs, lips following to kiss the lines of toned muscle. He paid extra attention to her scars and scratches, freckles and moles—he was mapping her with his touch, working thoroughly as if he wished to commit her to memory.
The sweet torment had her writhing and searching for friction as he moved steadily higher. Her nerves were aflame with his touch, and the deliberate slowness was driving her mad. Zarra’s hands kneaded and pinched her breasts as he began kissing and nipping his way up her inner thigh. The scrape of his beard on the sensitive skin had her practically dripping with arousal, and he hadn’t even touched her in that spot between her legs yet.
His mouth reached the crux of her thighs, stopping just shy of the liquid desire coating her folds and seeping down her thighs. A single finger traced her seam, pulling a mewl from her throat. He chuckled, warm breath puffing over her bare skin and sending a shiver through her. Gale pressed a chaste kiss to the soft swell of her mons before moving to continue kissing his path down her other leg.
His hand went first from the top of her thigh, his clever fingers tracing the three parallel lines before he froze. Zarra recalled the scars too late and panicked, her hand flying to cover the marks before he could see them.
Gale shifted at her sudden tension, gaze flickering from her hand to where she chewed on her bottom lip, his expression going hard. “Zarra… Are these from…?”
“Yes,” she said, mouth suddenly dry.
She yearned to curl up and hide from his astute gaze, to hide scars memorializing that first brutality. But Gale had seen it in her memories and he still chose to love her anyway. Still, Zarra couldn’t help but wonder if facing the physical proof of it would change his mind.
Gale moved her fingers aside and ran his own over the raised marks, scowling at them in the way he usually reserved for Astarion’s pointed needling. His thoughts flickered so quickly over his face that she couldn’t process them all. Indignation, sadness, and, most prominently, a crackling anger. His hands spasmed on her thighs and sparks danced down his fingers before he regained control of himself.
“I know it doesn’t change anything, and perhaps it doesn’t help, but I swear to you I will end him if he so much as breathes in your direction ever again.”
“I’d rather have your support while I end him, if it’s all the same,” she said. She tried to inject some humor into her voice, but knew it fell flat.
“You have it, without question.” Gale pressed a series of kisses along the curve of her leg, focusing his attention on the three silver lines marring her thigh. “We don’t have to—”
“I want to,” she breathed, shifting to spread her thighs a little wider and open herself to him. “I want you to touch me, Gale. Please.”
His lips twitched, and he dropped another kiss to her mound, fingers lightly circling her clit. “How could I deny you when you sound so beautiful saying ‘please?’”
She watched him lower his mouth to her damp folds, and her back arched when he brushed a finger over her clit at the same moment he licked a stripe along her slit. The first touch was delicate, meant to take her measure, but the next was an onslaught. His lips locked about her clit and he carefully slid two fingers inside her. She whimpered at the stretch and clenched when he curled his fingers inside her. He devoured her, his mouth and fingers plundering her and drawing every sigh, every gasp, every mewl he could from her. When she clenched around his fingers, he repeated the motion. When she tightened her hands in his hair and canted her hips over his face, he drew her harder against him until she was strung tighter than a bow. He worked her until she was a cacophony of sensation, his quick learning and clever tongue turning the clamor into a symphony with Gale as the conductor.
When she shattered, Gale greedily devoured every drop of her pleasure. She writhed against him, back arching as he pushed her past oversensitive and right into a second orgasm. Stars danced behind her eyes and lightning danced through her veins. When she came down, he was pressing gentle kisses interspersed with murmured praises to the soft skin of her thighs.
Her fingers stroked through his hair as her quivering muscles slowly relaxed once more. “You are… very good at that.”
The words were clumsy and stuck in her throat, but that didn’t matter. Gale’s shining eyes and bright smile through lips glistening with her was all she cared about. He was beautiful and perfect, and she needed to show him just how much she loved him. But first she needed to regain control of herself.
Gale hid his grin in kissing his way up her body, brushing over the curves and dips of her hips and belly and gliding through the valley of her breasts, until he found her lips. The kiss was deep and drew her fully back to herself. He tasted of her, sharp and a little salty. It was heady.
His arms wrapped around her and dragged her against his chest, trapping his hard cock between them. A groan got stuck in his throat when her hand found him and began stroking through his pants. When he throbbed against her palm, she released him and began fumbling blindly with the laces of his pants.
“Let me—” Gale said, gently replacing her hands with his and muttering a quiet incantation. His breeches were quickly displaced to his hand, leaving him bare and his erection standing proud and thick before her.
Zarra’s hands immediately traced the line of dark hair from his belly to the base of his cock, stroking him gently. He was hard as steel and his skin was softer than suede. Her thumb passed over the broad head, spreading a pearl of pre-cum over him, and she couldn’t hide a grin when he thrust shallowly against her hand.
“Zarra,” he groaned, stopping her from pumping him with a hand on her wrist. “It’s been… a long time. You should stop if you don’t want this to end prematurely.”
She released him with a grin and dropped a chaste kiss to his lips. “I would hate to end the night without feeling you inside me first.”
“Fuck,” he breathed, rolling atop her and thrusting himself through her soaked folds. The head of his cock pressed her clit, making her moan and drag herself against him. “Please, I need…”
She wrapped a hand about his cock and guided him to her opening with a murmured cantrip against conception, their moans tangling when he slowly slid into her. He stretched her open, the delicious sting making her hungry for more. Zarra locked her ankles about his hips and pushed him forward until he was fully seated within her. She keened at the sensation of being so perfectly full, clenching her muscles and fluttering about his cock as she adjusted to his girth.
Gale’s head dropped to the crook of her neck where he nipped at the tender flesh of her throat to stifle his noises of pleasure. His hips stuttered against hers before he regained control and stilled himself, waiting for her to relax before moving further.
Zarra wasn’t having any of it. She needed to hear him, to feel him. One hand tangled in his hair and tugged until his head lifted, and she undulated her hips at the same time, fucking herself on him. He breathed a curse as she moved and stared down at the place where they connected.
“I want to hear you, Gale,” she panted, repeating the motion and feeling another flood of desire at his soft noise of pleasure. “Please—let me hear that you like this as much as I do.”
That was all the permission he needed to withdraw and slam back into her, their noises of pleasure mingling as he hit the spot that made her see stars. With every thrust, the flames of desire grew hotter and brighter, consuming her until all she could see, hear, feel was Gale. When his thumb found her clit, circling it in the way that drove her wild, she could feel her end fast approaching. Zarra embraced it, racing for the precipice as she latched her lips over his and swallowed the sounds of his pleasure as she found her own.
She came around him, delicate muscles fluttering and clenching as she cried out her end. Heat coursed through her veins once more, and she was awash on a sea of pleasure. Her orgasm must have set his off, for his hips stuttered against her before he hastily withdrew. With a few practiced pumps of his hand, Gale spilled himself on her stomach. Pearlescent rivulets of his pleasure quickly cooled on her skin as he collapsed beside her, panting.
Wordlessly, he showered kisses over her face and chest. She returned the affection, her hands running down his arms and back while her aftershocks dissipated. Love, warm and golden, coursed through her in the aftermath. Usually, she’d already be cleaned and dressing as she headed for the door, but now… She couldn’t get enough of the man pressed against her. In his arms, she was loved and desired. She was safe .
After a beat, Gale cleaned his spend from the soft curve of her belly with a quiet spell and started running his fingers through her snowy white hair.
“You could have finished inside me, you know,” she said eventually, grinning at the pink tinge to his cheeks. “I cast a cantrip against any extra uninvited passengers, just to be safe.”
“Is that what that was?” He flicked the tip of her ear and smiled at her sharp intake of breath, the way her thighs rubbed together at the touch. “Clever thing—though I hope you don’t think I meant to dishonor or distrust you by my actions at the end. I simply did not think it wise to risk any other, ah, complications at this time.”
“No offense taken, ‘chev ,” she said, words turning to a whimper when he circled his fingers about one of her sensitive nipples. “We’re of the same mind, it seems. I’ll start brewing the tea in the morning as a more reliable precaution.”
His hand moved to toy with her other breast, refusing to let her wriggle away from his teasing touch as he worked to stoke the flames of her desire once more. “I’ve read of such concoctions before—a combination of pennyroyal, wild yam, and black cohosh can prevent pregnancies… Though, I imagine the side effects leave something to be desired.”
She nodded, running her hand over his chest and one of his flat nipples. “I won’t call it pleasant, but it’s better than the alternative. Drinking it once a day will remove the worry and allow us to do as we wish in bed—assuming, of course, that you want to do this again… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to presume—”
Gale silenced her with a kiss, chasing all doubts and questions away as he rolled her atop him. “If I could, I would spirit us away to Waterdeep right now and make love to you on every available surface. If it were feasible, I would live between your legs and wring every last drop of pleasure from you for the rest of our days. But, alas, that is not an option available to us, so I will content myself with making love to you as often as you like within the confines of our current circumstance.”
Zarra felt his cock stirring against her and she grinned at him before muttering her cantrip once more. “Are you ready to make good on that?”