#ghost.speak

Sunday

You had a feeling that this was going to be a very long week. 

The first time Changbin knocked on your door, he looked offended by Poseidon himself. His hair was still damp with bubbles still in his hair, hoodie slung over on one shoulder, gym bag in the other as his brows pinched like he was contemplating how he got into this mess. “Okay,” he said before you could even say hi, “this is going to sound ridiculous–but is your shower working?”

You blink. “Uh..yeah? Why do you ask?” 

He exhaled like a man who just got a blessing from heaven. “Mine’s not, can I use yours?” 

I’m sorry, what? You think to yourself, stepping aside instinctively, letting him into the hallway while he explained – hands moving everywhere as frustration bled into embarrassment. 

“This thing called the diverter value is completely stuck,” he said. “So the water won’t switch from the tub to the showerhead and it looks like a tiny waterfall of disappointment.” You bite your lip, hard, to stop yourself from laughing as Changbin gestures wildly towards the imaginary crime scene that is now his bathroom.

“And I have tried everything Y/N,” he added quickly, like he can sense your composure slowly slipping. “Everything, from twisting, pulling it, turning the water on and off like that’s magically going to fix it.” He runs a hand through his hair, exasperated. “I swear I’ve turned it into a fucking Bop-It at this point.” 

That’s it. 

The laugh bursts out of you before you can stop it as it echoes a little too loudly in the hallway, you bend forward slightly, one hand braced on the table as you try to regain composure. “I-” you continue giggling “I’m sorry a Bop-It? What did you yell at it too?”. He groans, scrubbing his face with both hands, face red from embarrassment. “Yes!! I did, threatened it, being nice to it, twisting it, pulling it, yelling at it. Nothing works.” 

You straighten, wiping the corner of your eye, still smiling. He looks a little flushed now, partially due to the mixture of gym and embarrassment, as your brain decides this is the moment to notice how broad his shoulders look in that hoodi-

Oh no. That’s…dangerous. 

You shake your head to get rid of the thought before you fold your arms, “So,” you say, pretending that this is purely a plumbing-related discussion and not Changbin standing in your doorway asking for help-kind of situation. “Let me get this straight. You lost a fight with your shower.” 

He points at you “IT ambushed ME.” 

You laugh again, softer this time, and something about his expression shifts--less defensive, more fond, like your laughter doesn’t sting the way he expected it to. “That sounds really frustrating.” You say quietly,  “It is,” he says,  “And humiliating. I just want a normal post-gym shower. Is that too much to ask?” 

A slight pause sits between you, it’s oddly comforting. 

“I just need a place to shower after the gym,” he continues, voice lowering slightly, suddenly earnest. “Just until maintenance fixes it. I swear on my life Y/N I’ll be quick. And clean. And-” He pauses, searching for the right word, “-- Respectful.” 

You step aside, gesturing him in. “Okay. But if my shower breaks too, I’m blaming you.”

This earns you a grin, relief spreading across his face. “Fair. I’ll buy you a new Bop-It as an apology.” 

You snort. And as he slips past you into your apartment, closing the door softly. 

And then it hits you.

It’s just Changbin. Your neighbor turned friend. Using your shower because his is broken. That’s it. No deeper meaning. No reason for your heart to beat a little faster as he pads into your apartment like he belongs there. 

You tell yourself it’s fine. 

Perfectly, completely fine. 

You busy yourself immediately. Straightening a cushion that doesn’t need it. Wiping down a counter that’s already clean. Anything to avoid thinking about how weird it feels to have him here. 

“So, uh,” he says behind you, shifting his gym bag on his shoulder, causing you to jump a little “Where is the bathroom? There’s still shampoo in my hair…” 

Your brain short-circuits. “Oh! Right, yeah sorry first door on the right” you point to the door “yeah go ahead and make yourself at home.” You laugh awkwardly. Pointing to the door with the sea animal stickers and fake nets seaweed hanging from the ceiling. He smiles “Thanks Y/N, I owe you big time!”

As you hear the door close, a pause, and then water running in the bathroom, you lean against the counter and stare at absolutely nothing. 

OK. I need rules, you tell yourself. 

Rule One: Do not think about him shirtless. 

Rule two: do NOT even try to think about what he’s doing in there. 

Rule three: Do not, under ANY circumstances listen to the sound of his shower.

You make tea, although you don’t really remember deciding to do that, but suddenly there’s steam rising from the kettle as you hold a two mugs in your hand - Do I even know his favorite tea? - you ask yourself. Before you can answer, you’re sitting at the table, fingers curled around the warmth of your mug while you stare at the black one watching steam rise, telling yourself that this is normal. Neighbors do this. Borrow sugar. Borrow showers, and bond over broken plumbing and 80’s toys. 

The water shuts off. 

Your spine straightens like you’ve been caught doing something illegal. 

He emerges a few minutes later, hair damp, hoodie sleeves pushed up, smelling like soap and something else, but it smells like him. He thanks you again, easy and genuine, and you nod like this hasn’t completely rearranged your emotional furniture. 

“So,” He says at the doorway, peering over the wall to look at you. “Same time tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” you said a little too quickly. “Totally. I mean–-if you need to. Which you do. Obviously. Because of the Bop-it - er- shower situation.”

You cringe internally. 

Smooth. Extremely smooth. 

Changbin laughs-a low, warm sound that settles into your chest. “You’re really hung up in the Bop-It thing huh?”

“I think it’s important,” you say, grabbing your mug and walking to the door, smiling “For historical accuracy.” 

He smiles back, before thanking you once again, closing the door behind him. 

You completely forget about that second cup of tea. 

Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3

Characters: Gale, Halsin, Original Female Character (Y/N)

Words: 18K

Warnings: Injury, Panic/Anxiety, Emotional Stress, Coerced Marriage, Blood, Strong Language

Tags: Romance, Fantasy, Royalty AU, Marriage of Convenience, Political Intrigue, Action/Adventure, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Intimacy, Slow Burn, Kissing, Cuddling, Love Triangle, Threesome (in later chapter), Slow-Build Romance

Author’s Note: This is a Baldur’s Gate 3 Royalty AU / Marriage of Convenience / Love Triangle fanfic. Features slow-burn romance, political intrigue, emotional intimacy, and a romantic/NSFW focus between Y/N, Gale, and Halsin. This is a fic that I made just for me; but if you wish to be part of the tags for when it updates; please let me know (I will be checking for ages!). I'll give it until Feb, 9th, 2026 as I'm in the middle of editing/updating/ working on homework maybe adding more content to it. But I'm comfy to slowly start posting it soon :) This is my biggest fanfic to date!! (I'm on the 11th chapter of it right now)

Present Day

You understood why they trusted him and why the match made sense.  Still, as the voices around you blurred into approval and relief, thoughts had drifted elsewhere — to the quiet of the palace library where Gale used to work late into the night, to the way he listened as though her thoughts were worth unraveling, to the space he once occupied so naturally at her side.

You did not resent Halsin. Not anymore, at least. 

He was kind. He was patient. He did not look at her as something to be claimed, but as someone to stand beside. When he spoke to you, it was with respect, not expectation. There was comfort in that. A sense of steadiness she could lean on when the weight of the crown pressed too hard.

But comfort was not the same as longing.

You press your palm lightly against the windowpane, grounding yourself on the cool surface. Your reflection stared back — composed, capable, a ruler shaped by responsibility rather than indulgence.

No one could see the tightness in her chest.

No one could hear the quiet thought beneath the calm: If Gale were here, would this have happened so quickly? 

She did not know the answer. That uncertainty hurt most of all.

----------

Later, when Halsin came to find her, his steps were measured, respectful. He stopped a careful distance away, as though mindful of the space she carried around herself these days.

“I know this was sudden,” he said gently. “If you need time—”

You turn toward him, offering a small, practiced smile. “The realm doesn’t have the luxury of waiting.”

His gaze softened, understanding without pity. “And you?”

Your breath caught 

“I will….adapt,” 

Halsin nodded, accepting the answer for what it was. “Then we will move forward carefully,” he replied. “This arrangement does not require you to sacrifice more than you already have.”

The words were generous. Thoughtful.

And still, they reminded you of everything she had already given up.

When you were alone again, you finally returned to the table. The parchment waited patiently, unmoving, indifferent to the hesitation curling in her chest. Tracing the edge of the document with your fingers, eyes skimming the formal language. The future it promised was orderly, secure, and defensible. It would protect the people. Your people. It would quell dissent. It would strengthen the family reign.

It would do everything it was meant to do.

And yet, you found yourself thinking of a palace garden at night, of laughter softened by moonlight, of a kiss that had not been planned but had felt inevitable. Wondering where Gale was now — whether he thought of you, whether the distance between them had been intentional or merely another consequence of duty.

You wonder if he would hear of the engagement through rumor or ink, impersonal and cold.

The thought settled heavily in her chest.

You straightened, lifting her chin. Whatever doubts she carried would not be allowed to rule her. She had been shaped by responsibility long before this moment, pressing your signet into the wax, sealing the contract with a steady hand.

The wax cooled. The vow was made.

And somewhere beyond the palace walls — in the space he once occupied so effortlessly — Gale was absent in a way that felt far louder than his presence ever had.

----------

The city gates opened to welcome him, but Gale hardly noticed the bustle of courtiers and merchants. His mind was consumed by the thought of her — Y/N. Time had passed since he’d last seen her, four years since Candlekeep and the observatory, and one since that night in the palace garden where something unspoken had begun to stir between them.

Now, returning to the palace, he expected relief, familiarity, the comfort of old routines. Instead, he found something entirely different.

As He entered the great hall, expecting to see her immersed in her courtly duties, poised and commanding as always. Instead, his gaze fell upon Y/N standing beside Halsin.

Halsin’s presence was calm, confident, and easy — the kind of charm that disarmed anyone at first glance. His hand rested lightly against hers as they discussed trade arrangements, his voice low and warm. Gale stepped forward, intending to greet her warmly, when a courtier whispered something to him, almost casually:

“Your grace, congratulations are due — Lady Y/N and Lord Halsin’s engagement has been formalized. The announcement is to be made at the council tonight.”

Engaged? His chest tightened, a sharp, sudden pain. His eyes flicked from the courtier to Y/N, and then to Halsin, who stood close, polite and attentive in a way that made his stomach twist.

Y/N turned at the sound of his footsteps, her expression lighting with recognition and relief. “Gale,” she said softly, unaware of the storm building in his chest. “It’s good to see you again.”He forced a measured smile, nodding. “It’s… good to be back,” he said, voice strained. “You’ve been keeping the court in order?” “I’ve been managing,” she replied lightly, tone steady, betraying none of the tension Gale felt. Her posture near Halsin was flawless — polite, graceful, careful, yet carrying a subtle deference that made Gale’s chest tighten.

Gale didn’t need words to see past it. His eyes traced the faint crease in her brow, the slight tightness in her shoulders, the way her hands lingered on the edge of the table as if holding herself upright. The practiced elegance was there, yes, but the exhaustion, the overextension — the truth behind “managing” — was unmistakable. She’s pushing herself too hard. She’s barely keeping it together, he realized, and a surge of protectiveness rolled through him. “Managing?” he murmured, stepping closer. “That doesn’t look like managing. That looks like… burning yourself out.”

Y/N forced a small, polite smile, but her eyes flickered with guilt, surprise, and something else — a flicker of longing. She didn’t deny him, because she knew he could see the truth in a way no one else could. “You always know how to see through me,” she admitted softly.

Gale’s heart thudded. He wanted to reach out, to brush a stray lock of hair from her face, to remind her she wasn’t alone in carrying the world. “I’ve always worried about you,” he murmured, tone heavy with unspoken feelings. “Even when you pretend that everything is under control. I can feel when it’s not. And… I can’t ignore it.”

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, a tremor passing through her hands. The tension Halsin’s presence had created all day, the whisper of engagement, the careful balance of courtly duty — it all collided in that moment. And yet, standing here with Gale, the one who had kissed her beneath the moonlight, the one who had always known her, she felt a dangerous spark of relief.

“You’re right,” she whispered, voice tight. “I’ve been… trying too hard.”

Gale allowed a small, private smile to tug at his lips, but his eyes held intensity. “Then let me help you,” he said, softly, firmly, and though the words were simple, they carried the weight of months of longing, the memory of the garden, and the unspoken promise of more. Before the moment could stretch any further, a smooth, calm voice interrupted. “Gale,” Halsin said, stepping closer, courteous but with an edge of authority. “Your advice is invaluable, but don’t forget why you’ve returned. The council awaits, and we have much to discuss — the city’s safety, trade, and protocol. Y/N has already been balanced enough today.”

Gale’s gaze flicked to Halsin, tension coiling like a spring in his chest. The reminder was polite, measured, almost diplomatic — yet beneath the calm exterior, it was a clear statement: this is my place too. Gale’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to nod, the weight of restraint heavy over desire. Halsin’s presence was a constant, polite shadow over every thought of Y/N, a reminder of the reality he now had to navigate. Y/N glanced between them, a subtle flicker of apology in her eyes. Gale caught it and, for a brief moment, the private world they had almost shared slipped through their fingers, swallowed by the demands of court and politics.

Even as the council session began, Gale’s mind replayed the moment on an endless loop: the whispered announcement, Halsin’s steady attentiveness, Y/N’s delicate composure hiding strain, and the subtle tension that had hung between them. He realized, with sharp clarity, that the battle for her attention, for her heart, wasn’t just emotional anymore — it was now entwined with politics, duty, and the careful maneuvers of court. And yet, the pull between them — the memory of the garden, the intimacy of the kiss, the quiet moments he had shared with her before — remained. It refused to be ignored, no matter how many reminders Halsin offered.

The slow burn had become a wildfire, and Gale knew that every glance, every word, every touch from now on would be heavily watched and guarded. 

Break -  Y/N’s Pov 

The council chamber was quiet but alive with the low murmur of parchment and the faint hum of wards beneath the stone floors. You sat at the center of it all, hands folded over maps and ledgers, spine straight, expression carefully composed. It was a posture you had learned well — calm worn like armor, steady enough to withstand scrutiny.

It held well; Until Gale entered the hall.

The armor thinned instantly, as though it had been fashioned from paper instead of steel. You felt it before you saw him — the subtle shift in the air, the way your chest stuttered without permission. He moved with that same careful grace, steps quiet, presence unmistakable. His eyes swept the room once, twice — and then found you.

The recognition was immediate. Unforgiving.

You had not expected him to return so soon. Had not expected the ache of longing to resurface with such force, sharp and uninvited, settling beneath your ribs like something unfinished. Months of distance had done nothing to dull it. If anything, it had only made the absence louder.

Your fingers tightened slightly over the parchment.

Then your gaze shifted — and found Halsin.

Calm. Steady. Polished.

He stood close to you now, a quiet anchor at your side, his presence familiar in a way that had grown slowly over weeks of shared responsibility. He spoke softly with one of the advisors, voice measured, reassuring. Duty made manifest. He was meant to be here — meant to remind you of balance, of stability, of the weight you carried and the support the realm required you to accept.

You had learned to rely on that steadiness.

And yet.

Your chest fluttered traitorously as your eyes drifted back to Gale. The contrast was impossible to ignore. Where Halsin grounded, Gale unsettled. Where Halsin soothed, Gale ignited something restless and dangerous beneath your careful composure.

A quiet rebellion stirred, unbidden and persistent.

Gale belongs here.

The thought startled you with its clarity.

He belongs with me.

You swallowed, forcing your attention back to the council proceedings, to the maps and numbers and responsibilities laid out before you. This was not the time. Not the place. You could not afford longing — not now, not with so much at stake.

And yet, even as you listened, even as you nodded and responded when required, you felt the weight of his presence pressing against the space he had once occupied so naturally at your side.

She should have looked away.

You felt the moment slipping, felt it in the way Gale’s attention sharpened — not polite, not distant, but focused entirely on yourself. The council chamber faded at the edges, voices blurring into an indistinct murmur as his presence pressed closer, warm and unyielding.

“You’re holding yourself too tightly,” Gale said quietly.

The words landed with unnerving precision.

You felt your breath caught before you could stop it. Forced a small, polite smile — the one she used when she needed to appear untroubled — but her eyes betrayed her anyway. Guilt flickered there, then surprise, and beneath it all, something far more dangerous. Longing.

She knew, in that instant, that she could not deny him.

Not Gale.

Not when he had always seen her so clearly, when he read the tension in her shoulders and the careful restraint in her voice like a second language.

“You always know how to see through me,” you admitted softly, the truth slipping out before you could dress it in something safer.

His concern deepened, and that was when fear joined the longing in her chest.

If he keeps looking at me like this… he’s going to know.

“I’ve always worried about you,” Gale murmured. His voice carried the weight of months apart, of words left unsaid. “Even when you pretend everything is under control. I can feel when it’s not. And… I can’t ignore it.”

Your hands trembled before you could still them, fingers tightening against the edge of the table. The careful balance she had maintained all day cracked. The whispers you had overheard, the engagement sealed in wax, the expectations pressing down on her — all of it surged forward at once.

And yet, standing here with Gale — the one who had kissed you beneath moonlight, the one who had known her before duty demanded so much — suddenly felt a dangerous spark of relief.

As though part of you wanted him to see.

“You’re right,” you whispered, voice tight. “I’ve been… trying too hard.”

For a moment, his expression softened, just enough to make your chest ache. The smallest smile touched his lips, but his eyes stayed intense, searching her face as if memorizing it.

“Then let me help you,” he said quietly. “Always.”

The words struck deeper than she was prepared for. They carried memory and promise and the unbearable pull of what might have been. For one reckless heartbeat, you almost leaned into him — almost let herself forget everything else.

Almost.

“Gale.”

Halsin’s voice cut cleanly through the moment.

You turn, heart jolting painfully back into reality as Halsin stepped closer. His expression was calm, courteous, his tone measured — but there was something firm beneath it, something unmistakably territorial.

“Your advice is invaluable,” Halsin said evenly, “but don’t forget why you’ve returned. The council awaits, and we have much to discuss — the city’s safety, trade, and protocol. Y/N has already been balanced enough today.”

The words were gentle.

They felt anything but.

You can feel the space between you and Gale shift — not physically, but undeniably. Halsin’s presence settled beside you like a boundary you had helped draw, a reminder of vows made and responsibilities accepted.

Gale’s gaze flicked to Halsin, tension tightening visibly in his posture before he forced himself to nod. Restraint pulled him back, heavy and reluctant.

She watched it happen, guilt twisting sharply in her chest.

When your eyes met Gale’s again, you let the apology show — brief, unspoken, meant only for him. He caught it immediately.

And in that instant, you knew.

He knows.

And it broke you.

Because the truth was written too clearly in both of your faces. The private world they had nearly reclaimed had slipped through her fingers, swallowed once more by duty, expectation, and the engagement she could no longer pretend didn’t exist.