Heartcrystal’s Assorted Ramblings

The first thing the morning gave him was sunlight spilling through the curtains.

The second was the smell of eggs and butter from downstairs.

For one disoriented heartbeat, Elenion nearly panicked over how late he must've slept. Then the morning settled around him properly. Waterdeep was quiet beyond the window, the Starlit Gallery was closed for the day, and Gale was making breakfast.

He stayed in bed a moment longer, warm beneath the sheets as he slowly woke.

Once, he would've braced himself for cold sheets and an empty bed. It had always hurt less when he left first, slipping away before dawn rather than staying long enough to reach for warmth that had already vanished.

Now, he smelled breakfast on the stove and heard Gale humming softly downstairs, and never wondered if he'd been left.

He only smiled into the pillow. Of course Gale was there.

When he finally wandered downstairs, he found Gale with his sleeves rolled up and his hair loose from sleep, frowning at the eggs as if they had just presented an argument he found academically unsound. A plate of fruit and pancakes was already keeping warm beside him.

Sunlight poured through the window beside him, catching the gray in his hair and making it shine like threads of gold.

For a moment, all Elenion could do was stand in the doorway.

"Good morning, husband," Gale said, with a fondness that made his heart give a ridiculous little stumble.

Terribly rude of his husband to do this to him first thing in the morning.

"Morning, babe," he said softly.

"You know," Gale said, still facing the stove, "I can feel you staring."

Insufferable, really.

"I'm just admiring the breakfast."

"You are admiring me in the general direction of the breakfast."

"Can a man not appreciate both?"

Gale looked back at him then, smiling in the morning light, and Elenion pictured himself doing something truly embarrassing. Like crossing the room just to kiss Gale on the cheek, or writing an unbearably sincere song about the sunlight in his hair before the eggs were even done.

Thankfully, before he could get farther than one hopeless step, Tara landed on the windowsill with a flick of her wings. "Mr. Dekarios, I do hope there is something suitable for civilized company."

"Silverdew-Dekarios now, Tara," Gale said, far too quickly.

Tara blinked at him. "Yes, quite right. Mr. Silverdew-Dekarios, then."

Gale's ears went pink.

"A fine name," she added, her yellow eyes softening in the sunlight. "Though you must forgive an old friend for taking time to adjust. I have called you Dekarios since you were a boy lecturing his porridge on consistency, after all."

"Tara!" Gale protested. "I am not certain that story needed preserving."

"All important history must be preserved, Mr. Silverdew-Dekarios." Tara glanced at Elenion. "Surely your husband, of all people, understands that."

Elenion broke into laughter before he could stop himself.

At nearly the same moment, their rabbit Moonbow burst into the kitchen and thumped one little white paw against the floor with all the urgency of a creature who had never been fed in her life.

Gale let out a weary sigh before surrendering to the inevitable. He presented a portion of fish to Tara as if it were a royal offering, then crouched to set Moonbow's greens on the floor. She sniffed the plate twice as if confirming the quality of his work, and only then did she accept them.

“Your household management has improved,” Tara said.

"My gratitude overwhelms me," Gale deadpanned.

"It should."

Elenion was still smiling when sunlight slipped over Gale's hand as he returned to the pan. The gold half of his wedding band gleamed bright against his skin, tiny moon engravings shining where his fingers curled around the edge of the counter. Elenion's matching ring, of gold moons and silver stars, suddenly felt warm on his own hand.

Once, Gale had nearly left the world behind for something higher, colder, lonelier. A place in the heavens, a name in prayers. A light too distant to touch. He'd offered to carry Elenion's name further than any mortal stage ever could, until the whole world sang his praise. The kind of glory that would drown out every doubt.

And yet this was everything Elenion wanted.

He loved Gale in the sunlight because it did not make him distant.

It found him here.

It gilded the gray in his hair, warmed the floor beneath his feet, and caught on the ring he wore because he'd chosen this mortal life beside Elenion.

And somehow, Elenion had chosen it too.

Later, when breakfast had been eaten and Tara and Moonbow had declared themselves satisfied in their own ways, Gale offered him his hand.

"Walk with me, my star?"

"Always, my moonlight," Elenion said.

His heeled boots clicked over sun-dappled cobblestones as they walked through busy market streets full of peddlers, performers, and yellow awnings. Not too long ago, he would've felt the press of so many eyes on him and reached for a mask. But being seen like this, walking in daylight with Gale’s hand warm in his own, felt nothing like performance.

It felt like home.

If anyone is curious, their wedding bands are basically combined versions of these rings I found online. The silver one was Elenion's originally and the gold one was Gale's, but they get cut in half and fused together to make half-and-half wedding rings as per a common Sword Coast tradition.

(I don't have any art of how the fused rings actually look. I should probably get some or draw an MS paint doodle lol)

BG3 Pride Month prompt calendar:

“Was she very angry with you when she found out? Mystra, I mean. What did she say to you?”

“I would not know.” Gale sighed. “Since the orb has settled in my chest, Mystra has not spoken to me.”

Ada looked at him, surprised: “Wait, you didn’t even fight over this? She never came to yell at you or, I don’t know, check whether you were alright?”

His free hand wiped his cheeks as he huffed mirthlessly. “Oh, I am sure she had ways to know about the state of my… convalescence. But… the gods rarely come to check on those they abolish. I had made my bed and she… let me lie in it.”

Ada shook her head again, restless from the budding anger in her heart. She could feel his warmth beside her, without their shoulders touching. After a moment, she asked, “What was it like… when you had to get used to the orb?”

His mouth twitched. “There really is no… getting used to it. If there is, I never found that noble state.”

There was a pause. “Still, the first weeks were… “

He stopped, struggling to retain his composure. It was a long moment before he trusted himself to speak.

“I think it would be more effective to show you.”

Gale turned to her fully, slowly guiding her hand so her palm was flat against his chest. “By your leave, I would use our tadpoles.” The faint, pulsing glow beneath his skin sent a shiver through her. She could feel the maelstrom of magic humming beneath her fingertips.

She met his gaze, suddenly unsure whether she was ready to face this memory with him. But when she saw how worry and determination coalesced in his brown eyes, her resolve hardened. She nodded, and Gale closed his eyes.

The world around them dimmed as Ada felt a dull pressure behind her temple. She imagined leaning into it, allowing Gale to connect his mind to hers.

The cold bioluminescence around them was replaced with oppressive darkness before it gave way to the dimness of a study by candlelight. Ada was no longer in her own body. Instead, she was seeing these events through Gale’s eyes.

He was sitting at his desk, a thick tome of a book on the desk before him. Gale was practically shaking with excitement as his fingers caressed the book’s spine. He could feel the potent magic humming within.

Looking up, she saw his face reflected in the darkened glass window just above his desk.

Ada recognised the same strong brow and nose, as well as the deep-set eyes she knew. Even if the lines around them were not as pronounced as she remembered.

Gale’s chin was clean-shaven, and the robes he wore looked bespoke and expensive. His hair was shorter. Without their own weight pulling them down, his mousy brown strands curled gently around his ears and at the back of his head.

Furthermore, this man’s temples lacked the pronounced grey accents, and Ada found herself missing that particular detail about him.

She saw Gale’s jaw set, just before his eyes fell back down onto the book on his desk. He took a deep breath and began his incantation.

Under his hand, the book awoke, buzzing as though it contained a swarm of very angry hornets. It lifted itself off the desk, hovering just a few inches above the dark wood.

As it began to tremble violently, Ada could sense Gale’s heart racing with excitement and fear alike.

Then, the book opened. But instead of pages, there was a swirling, insidious void. A mass of blackest Weave burst forth, more potent and destructive than any magic Ada had ever felt.

Like a starving animal, it pounced, relentlessly sinking its teeth into Gale—into her.

The pain was unbearable.

It wasn’t just physical agony; it was the feeling of something breaking through every defence, every layer of the soul, tearing open what it touched and becoming part of him.

As if it were an ember come to life, it burned into Gale, digging deeper with each breath. There was no escape, no reprieve. Just the endless, ravenous darkness, devouring and consuming. Ada’s ears rang.

Only when her jaw ached, and the corners of her mouth felt like they were about to tear, did she realise. Gale was screaming in pain, a horrifying crescendo just like the agony between his collarbones.

His voice gave out. He could not breathe. Panic gripped his heart. His ribs were torn open to make room for this malicious force.

Helplessly, Ada saw her hands—his hands—claw at his chest in an attempt to grasp the orb and yank it from his body. Like his robes, the hands were dark, almost black with blood. He felt even more of it running down his cheek and neck.

His sight began to dim. He tried to stand. A last desperate attempt to flee his doom. But his legs could not hold him.

His heartbeat was fading by the second. Ada tasted metal on her tongue, and then she heard the woebegone, silent prayer he offered to his lover.

Mystra, save me! I am torn open and rent apart. This blight within devours my soul. My lungs burn, and I cannot breathe. Take this burden from me, my goddess! Please!

The pain pulled him under before he hit the hardwood floor. Darkness. Then, merciless pain. Originating from his lungs and spreading like lightning into every last nerve of his body with every futile attempt at breathing.

His senses were dulled and his eyes shut. He needed air. But he could not move. He did not dare for fear of the pain that awaited him.

Had Ada not known better, she would have been convinced she had just witnessed his death. A pitiful whimper confirmed he was alive. As was the roiling wad of darkness within.There was a fluttering sound,

followed by a soft thud nearby.

“Good heavens, Mr Dekarios.” The voice was close by and warm, despite its worried tone.

Gale’s eyes cracked open, and through them, Ada could see two soft, fuzzy paws on the floor, next to his face. The dim light of the rising sun fell through the now open window.

“What happened to you?” The face of a cat came into view. “You look terrible!”

Intelligent yellow eyes were surrounded by fluffy tortoiseshell fur. The cat had its ears pressed to its head, and the long, white whiskers were trembling.

“Mr Dekarios, can you hear me?”

Another painful moan. His hands twitched against the cold floor beneath him.

With another rustle of wings, the creature was gone. Gale blinked slowly, his heartbeat becoming steadier, little by little.

As the seconds passed, Ada realised who she had just seen. Something hard fell onto the back of Gale’s hand, faintly vibrating with a magic charge.

His breaths became deliberate until, with all of his concentration, he pressed out, “Iasis”. The item in his hand shook slightly, and a warming sensation spread through Gale. It was not enough to ease his pain or cure his fatigue, but his breathing became less torturous.

“Tara,” he breathed. She came into view again, her body and tail close to the ground.

“Yes, Mr Dekarios, I am here.” Her tone was that of a governess or a strict aunt, but filled with unconcealable softness. “Now, in order to help you, I need you to enunciate what exactly happened here.”

“I found it, Tara.”

The tressym flinched, leaning backwards with a hiss. “No, you did not. Tell me you did not try to remove it from its vessel.”

Gale remained silent, and Tara looked at him in disbelief.

“I can not carry you,” she finally said with a sigh, “So you will have to get up with your own strength and in your own time. But I will be here with you.”

She took a few hesitant steps towards him before she lay down beside him, nudging his shoulder with her head.

Ada felt tears roll down Gale’s nose as Tara began to purr beside him.

“We will find a solution, Mr Dekarios. Tara is here now, and she’ll sort you out.”

Another memory came next.

It was dark again, but Gale was no longer on the floor. His back was against soft pillows, and he had apparently cleaned his wounds and changed his clothes in the meantime.

Gale was in his bed. The candle on the nightstand had long gone out. The room smelled musty; he must not have aired it or left it for days.

His hands were folded in his lap, and his head was bowed in prayer.

“I reach for your touch but am met with the chill of a void. Mystra, your Chosen cries out to you as he always did. I cannot see my way through this clawing darkness.

A lesson in humility was what I deserved, and so I have received it. Should you see fit to bestow further admonishment upon me, I will gladly bear it. But in this solitude, cast from your light, I am dying.

I know where I have failed, and I beg your forgiveness, Mistress. Please, do not shun me as an apostate, nor disregard my desperate prayers any longer. I beg of you.”

He broke down into desperate sobs. His chest felt like it was about to cave in with the pain of the orb and his broken heart beside it. Shame weighed heavily on his shoulders.

Minutes passed before Gale took another shuddering breath. Through his tears, his voice emerged in a wet rasp.

“I am in unspeakable pain. I weep, and I can not bear to be alive. If you can not forgive me, my goddess, have pity and let me die. I would see to it myself, rid the world and those unfortunate enough to care for me of their burden. But I have since learned what havoc I would wreak.”

His face fell into his hands.

“Better a world in which I never would become this bitter blight. Better a world without me in it.”

When Ada’s consciousness returned to the Underdark, her cheeks were wet with tears.

Gale’s chest heaved under her touch, and his hand was shaking. Her own hand no longer held the mug; it must have fallen down and rolled away.

The memories had been vivid and intimate. They left Ada with sorrow and an overwhelming need to touch him. Both to comfort him and to commit the feel of his skin to memory.

Gently, her fingers touched the purple lines on his face, beginning just under his eye, then curling down to the darkened space between his collarbones. This close to his face, she noticed that the scars were not flat, but shallow channels of purple, etched into his skin.

All the while, she felt Gale watching her face intensely.

“The first time I saw you,” Ada said, not meeting his eyes, “I thought these lines were just a really cool tattoo.” She laughed, and it came out crooked and soggy. “I know better now.”

Her hand now reached up to cup his cheek. She felt him lean into her touch, though his eyes never left hers.

“You did something very ambitious and equally stupid. But that does not make you a villain in my eyes. These scars… they don’t shame you. They tell a story.”

She gave him a tired smile as he covered her hand with his, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

When he opened them, he sought her gaze. There was urgency in the way he looked at her now.

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