#galspeth

The air was heavy in the grand library in the Temple of Oghma, perhaps because of the incense permeating from the main floor below, or perhaps because of the tension between Gale and Elspeth. Beams of afternoon sun shone through the windows, illuminating dust and particles floating about. Gale stood by the wall, alternating between propping his book up on a nearby shelf and pacing with it in his hands. Every few minutes, he’d let out a huff to blow the stray strands of hair out of his eyes, increasingly agitated at its unruliness. He found himself fidgeting with the book’s pages or absentmindedly combing through his beard, distracted not by thought, but emotion. He had read the same page three times now and retained none of it.

Elspeth emerged from the towering rows with two antique books, purposefully strutting past Gale, robes swishing behind her, as she sat at a desk facing away from him. She refused to make eye contact until he apologized for how he acted that morning. Their usual end-of-tenday morning walk to the library was marked by silence and rigid hand-holding–no discussion of the day’s plans or playful banter. Occasionally one of them would remark on something happening around them, the other only responding with a firm “hm.” 

A few other patrons were scattered throughout the library’s halls, the only sounds those of pages flipping and the occasional cough. The librarian, an aged devotee of Oghma, sat at her usual high desk, spectacles sitting on the very tip of her nose as she wrote in a ledger. She did not ever engage in small talk with the library’s patrons, but the few times Gale or Elspeth needed help finding a particular book, her stern mouth would curl into a smile and she’d speak in excited whispers about the library’s collection. She often greeted them with a head nod, and sometimes a quiet “Mr. and Mrs. Dekarios.”

Elspeth kept her head down, trying to scan the book’s pages for any mentions of infernal machinery, but words were foreign symbols on parchment to her, jumbled and meaningless. Her thoughts kept snapping back to Gale. She unpacked a quill and began to take notes, hoping the motion might help her stay focused. But her parchment remained mostly blank, and when she heard Gale shutting his book behind her, she slumped back in her chair, frustrated with the lack of progress. Frustrated, still, with him.

After an hour in the library, Gale had successfully read four pages of the newest published studies on time-altering illusion spells–next week’s lesson for his advanced students. He couldn’t force himself through it any longer. He approached El, admiring the way her shiny, platinum hair reflected the sunlight, forgetting for a moment that he was angry with her. He resisted the natural urge to touch her–to massage her tense shoulders or lift her chin up for a kiss. She was incredibly stubborn, that much he knew, but she owed him an apology. And no matter how badly he wanted to feel her near him, he would wait for that apology.

“Are you checking those out?” he asked as he stood next to the desk, gesturing to the books. She only nodded and slid them on top of the large tome Gale held in his arms. Gale brought their books to  the main desk and the librarian stamped a magical glyph on the inside of each book’s cover. He returned to El, handing her the two small books she had selected.

“Surprised you trust me with books at all anymore,” she mumbled as she slid them into her bag. “But these aren’t your books, so I suppose it’s different.”

“Yes, El, it is different.” His voice, though a normal volume, sliced through the quiet library, earning him a few stares and a “shush” from the librarian. “It is different,” he repeated, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Presumably you won’t throw them out with the bathwater.”

“I hardly threw it out, Gale!”

“Shh!” came from the librarian’s desk and somewhere further away in the room.

“What do you call it, then?” Gale whisper-shouted.

“I call it ‘donating-books-to-an-orphanage,’ as a matter of fact,” she whispered back.

“Well now you’re just making me sound like an asshole.”

“You’re being one.” El shoved her belongings into the bag and turned heel, Gale matching her stride.

“El–let’s just go to the orphanage and ask for it back. We can forget this little spat of ours, get the book back–no harm done.”

“I am not–”

“Mr. and Mrs. Dekarios.” The librarian appeared before them, short and slender, pointed ears peaking through her silvered hair. “You would do well to remember that this is a library. If you must argue, then I must ask you to leave the Temple. You’ll be most welcome once you can follow the rules again.

Gale and Elspeth marched down the stairs and through the Temple in silence. Once outside and out of earshot of the priests, El turned to her husband, his windswept hair and the peak of collarbone through his robes almost making her forget their quarrel. She pushed the thoughts aside as Gale began crossing the street to Blackstaff Tower, motioning her to follow.

“I am not walking into an orphanage and demanding part of my donation back, Gale! Do you hear yourself?”

“I have no desire to take anything away from an orphaned child,” he said, pushing open the heavy oak doors. “But it’s one book–a book most likely too advanced to be of use to them. And I didn’t give you permission to donate it!”

“You gave me permission to donate the stack collecting dust in the cellar.”

“Yes, because they’re children’s books–I didn’t realize my first edition copy of Abjuration Accolades Through the Ages was on top!”

“That’s not my fault!” 

El followed Gale up the spiraling stone staircase, the building noticeably quiet as their voices and footsteps echoed. Out of breath, they reached Gale’s office.

“It wasn’t on purpose,” El lamented, trying to catch her breath. Her eyes were remorseful as she looked at him, silently begging for this feud to be over, but refusing to be the one to apologize. “You should have checked the stack first before agreeing.”

With a quick wave of his hand, Gale’s office door shut and locked itself. He stepped forward to where Elspeth leaned against the side of his desk, sliding one hand around her waist and using the other to push her hair away from her neck, baring the flesh for him to trail breathy, warm kisses from collar to ear. 

“Gale, we–we’re–” she began to protest, to remind him that they were still arguing. But she melted at his mouth on her skin, the scent of sandalwood dabbed behind his ears so close and potent that she forgot about their quarrel in an instant. She breathed out his name, clutching the back of his robes briefly before undoing its buttons and sliding it off his shoulders, revealing the toned forearms that always made her come undone.

In a quick movement, he had her on the desk, the books and bottles of ink vanishing with a hand gesture. His fingers trailed beneath the sleeves of her robe, pulling them down just enough to expose her shoulders. The sweet musk of her skin set his pulse racing as he sighed into her shoulder, taking desperate mouthfuls of her and leaving scarlet marks bursting beneath her skin. While his mouth wandered, his hands pushed up her robes, expecting to pull off the leggings she’d normally wear underneath. Beneath the fabric, however, was nothing.

“How scandalous of you, Mrs. Dekarios,” he teased, pushing her legs up for a full view of her cunt, glistening just for him. He ran a finger through her and grazed his lips softly against the pointed tip of her ear, his voice deep and quiet. “Almost like you wanted to be fucked on my desk.”

She could have come with those words alone. Already, the gentle circles he drew around that most sensitive spot threatened to send her over the edge. Whimpering and biting her lip in an attempt to reign herself in, she reached down to feel him, hard and eager beneath his trousers. She slipped the tied leather beneath her fingers and pulled the waistband loose, savoring the silky, hot skin of his cock in her hand. Gale moaned into her neck.

“Maybe I thought I could coax an apology out of you.”

“Hm,” he chuckled. “We’ll see about that.”

Before Elspeth could respond, he thrust himself into her, sending a wave of pleasure through her entire body as she held herself up on the desk and clutched Gale’s arm. She cried out, thankful they hadn’t seen a soul in the Tower on their way up, and not caring that there could be others in adjacent rooms overhearing them. Gale lifted her leg up, heeled boot resting against his shoulder as his hips moved rhythmically against her exposed bottom half.

Oh, she was angry with him. His suave words and bedroom eyes and beautiful cock that she worshiped, second only to her deity. Godsdamn him, smoothing over their argument by splaying her out on his desk and half undressing her, knowing the frustration she felt would melt away with a few magic words and a good fuck. It always did–though this was the only time that he had been the subject of her anger since starting their lives together.

But she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t hoping for this.

Gale’s own frustration was dissipating with every thrust. In truth, he knew he should apologize, but that realization only came about when he saw El’s ecstasy as he plunged into her. She was more special to him than an old book–than any book, really. He couldn’t be angry with her now if he tried. Truly testing El’s flexibility, he leaned forward, squishing her upright leg between them, and kissed her madly. His tongue lapped at the inside of her mouth, his moans harder to suppress, and he felt her hand slip between their bodies, finding the center of her pleasure. It was only seconds until she cried out. Her body tensed and her warmth pulsed around him, his release spilling into her as he groaned and clutched her close to him, the two of them finding their climax in perfect unison. 

Elspeth lowered herself to rest her back to the desk, still holding Gale as he lay atop her, panting into her chest. She smoothed out his now-disheveled hair as she caught her own breath, gently combing through the graying strands behind his ears. He raised his head to gaze at her.

“I’m sorry–” they both said in tandem. Giggling, he urged her to speak first.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have been more discerning.”

“No, love,” he said, reaching up to caress her cheek. “I’m sorry. I acted like a right fool. It was ludacris of me to suggest we ask the orphanage for the book back. The orphanage, of all places.” He shook his head in disapproval of himself.

“I know your books are important to you. I promise it won’t happen again, Gale.”

“And I promise to remember that you are more important to me than any book, first edition or otherwise.” He kissed the wrist of the hand resting in his hair. “Your generosity is one of my favorite things about you. I’d do well to take notes.”

He lifted himself up from the desk and extended his hands, pulling El up to her feet. 

“Well, my love,” he said as he redid the ties of his pants. “What else does the day hold for us?”

Elspeth smoothed out her robes and her hair, hoping she didn’t look too hot and bothered. “Let’s go to the bookstore. We can get you something new to fill the book-shaped void.”

Gale broke into a wide smile and pulled his beautiful wife into a deep hug, thanking the gods that she came into his life. 

“Does that sound okay to you?” she asked as he loosened his hold.

“That sounds absolutely perfect.”

I woke in the middle of the night from a soft paw tapping my face.

“Mrs. Dekarios,” Tara whispered, the moonlight glinting on her fur and feathers.

“Tara?” I looked to my right, instinctively reaching for my love, but he wasn’t there. The bed was still warm where he had pushed the sheets back. Panic rose in my throat as I bolted upright, expecting something horrible to have happened. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, dear, for waking you, but I think you should check on Gale,” she said. “He’s in the library.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked again.

“I’m inclined to believe him when he says he had a nightmare,” she said. “I am less inclined to believe that he is ‘fine,’ as he insisted.”

“Thank you for waking me. I’ll go to him,” I said, swinging my legs out of bed and my feet into a pair of slippers. “Tara?”

“Yes, Mrs. Dekarios?” 

“Why did you wake me? You’re always worried about me taking your place.”

“I’ve come to realize that there are certain times where Gale doesn’t need a tressym, but a wife,” she said, curling up on the foot of the bed. “This is one of those times.”

The library door was cracked, and it creaked as I pushed it open. In the dim candlelight, Gale sat at his desk, hunched over. He didn’t look up as I entered the room and walked towards him, the room completely silent except for my footsteps and a soft sniffling.

“My love,” I said, crouching before him. “Talk to me.” 

As he raised his head to look at me, I could see that he was holding something: an idol of Mystra. His fingers were loose around the statue’s curves, as if he might drop it at any moment. 

“Just a bad dream,” he said, looking back down at the idol. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, darling.” I rested my hand on his knee and sat down in front of him.

“Yes, I do,” he said, sitting back in his chair and placing the statue back down on the desk. His eyes were rimmed with red. “I’m sorry I woke you. I’m sorry that you’re wonderful enough to come and check on me only to see me brooding over my ex-lover. You don’t deserve that.” 

His gaze was fixed on the floor, and I could tell he was having a hard time looking me in the eye. I rubbed comforting circles into his thigh with my thumb, each one a silent assurance–I’m here. I love you. I’m here. 

“It’s much more complex than that, Gale. You have a lot to work through, and it’s going to take time.” He put his hand on top of mine, his fingers cold from the cool stone of the idol. 

“I know,” he said. “But it’s my burden to bear–not yours. It’s not fair to you.”

“My love,” I said, matter-of-factly, and took his hands in mine. “I’m your wife. Your burdens are my burdens. Let me help.”

He relented, squeezing my hands gently before opening up.

“Sometimes it just comes rushing back. How much she hurt me. How much she allowed me to suffer. And after I met you, and all these new people who were beginning to care about me, she–” he paused for a moment, swallowing a lump in his throat. “she asked me to die for her. To kill all of you in the process, no less.” 

The room was silent save for the soothing lull of the waves just outside the window. 

“I am beyond thankful that she cured me of the orb,” Gale continued. “But why let me suffer for so long? I was so alone, El.” His voice dropped to a broken whisper. “So… despondent. And although I am fully, utterly devoted to you–sometimes it still hurts that I loved her so much and she… discarded me. So easily, like blowing out a flame.”

I settled into a cross-legged seat on the floor between his legs and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. All these months later and he was still dealing with the repercussions of Mystra’s punishment. I couldn’t blame him. I couldn’t even imagine what it must have felt like to be in love with a god. To have an ex lover–an all-knowing, all-powerful ex lover–condemn you to die.

“I know, darling,” I said. “And you’re allowed to be hurt for as long as it takes for you to heal.”

“I don’t know what to do. Do I continue to worship her, all the while housing this resentment she caused? Do I try to find a new god? Do I let my soul wander the Fugue Plane while yours is at ease, away from me?” His breathing quickened, his fingers fidgeting in hers like they did when he was feeling anxious. “It’s all too much,” he said quietly as tears began to pool in his eyes.

“You will find the solution for all of those dilemmas, my sweet love. I promise.” I held his gaze as tears fell gently into his lap. “But not all at once. And not tonight.”

He nodded and wiped his tears with the back of his hand, inhaling and then pushing out a deep, steady breath. “You’re right. You always are.”

His eyes lingered sadly on the idol of his forsaken goddess before moving to the portrait that hung above his desk. It was a painting of our wedding day, the moment perfectly capturing the sheer joy I felt; the soul-shattering devotion in Gale’s eyes; the glee in both our smiles. We had several paintings from that day hung up around the tower, but Gale insisted this one be hung above his desk. He raised his head and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. 

“That painting is my favorite, you know,” he said.

“I figured as much,” I said, rising to sit in his lap. “Why that one?”

“Just look at you,” he said, gesturing to it. “You’re radiant. It captures you perfectly. One look at your face in that painting and I remember all of it. The love you’ve given me that I’ve never had. The will to live you inspired within me. Hope, I suppose. It gives me hope.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him tight to my chest, the tension in his shoulders dissipating as he melted into me. I kissed the top of his head and ran my fingers through his disheveled hair, loose from its usual half bun. 

“I love you,” he mumbled against the fabric of my nightclothes. “I’ll never understand how I got so lucky.”