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Chapter Text

In Kara Nilur’s professional, completely unbiased opinion, she was one of the most talented lyre players in Waterdeep. Unfortunately, nobody in a position to hire her as such seemed to agree with her, and her landlord would not accept payment in folk songs. She had asked. Multiple times.

She furrowed her brow as she held two shirts up against her, studying them in the mirror. One of them was a plain white shirt, long billowing sleeves, and just enough of a cut at the front to show off a little cleavage. The other was a deep purple, tighter fitting, with a scooped neck and silver embroidery around the cuffs.

“Naivara!” she yelled out of her bedroom door. She heard her sister in law sigh from the living room.

“I am too pregnant for stairs, Kara,” she shouted back.

“But I don’t have a shirt on!”

“Wear the purple one, the white one makes you look like a pirate!”

Kara thought the white shirt actually made her look dashing, but she could see Naivara’s point, so she threw it to one side and pulled the purple shirt over her head. Begrudgingly, she had to admit to herself that it did go better with her black trousers.

She smoothed the front of the fabric down as she admired herself in the mirror, indulging in a moment of petty vanity. She gathered her hair up in a high ponytail, holding it in place, before letting it go to hang loose. She shook her head coquettishly, practicing her best doe eyes. If she was going to convince someone, anyone, in Waterdeep to give her a chance, she should really put her best foot forward, and her best foot was her charm. Besides, she’d never been allowed to have her hair down before.

She leant into the mirror as she inspected the numerous greys laced in between her auburn hair. Edmur tried to tell her it made her look distinguished, but really it just made her look older, and age was a battle every aspiring musician tried to fight. She knew twenty five was young by most other profession’s measure of the word, but with how cut throat hers was, she may as well be a doddering old widow.

She didn’t want to start over again, in a new city, but with Edmur leaving all that time ago, the family business was about to be forced on her by her mother, and she knew she had to get out while she still could. The last she’d heard, Mallory was negotiating a sale to another local merchant, Umbero Buckman.  She sighed as she remembered her mother catching her trying to sneak out the house in the dead of night, nothing but her lyre, her pitiful savings and a few days’ rations in her bag, the day after the funeral.

“Your father isn’t even cold in his grave,” Mallory had screamed at her, as their butler had held her back by her arms. “You’d abandon your family for your childish ambitions!”

Her lyre was laid out carefully on her writing desk. She ran her fingers over the strings wistfully. Maybe her mother had been right, but she would much rather fail at her biggest dream than succeed in something she was forced into.

She’d begged passage on a ship to Waterdeep and turned up on her brother’s doorstep two weeks later. Just for a few weeks, she’d said, and she’d help with the rent until she’d got a job and could save enough for her own place. Her brother had never been able to turn down his baby sister. His wife was slightly less impressed.

A few weeks turned into four months, and aside from the occasional tavern gig, Kara’s illustrious career had not quite taken off like she’d hoped. She hadn’t made the contacts she’d needed to find a longer term position or patron. Living with her brother was nice, but as Naivara kept not very subtly pointing out, they would be in need of her room very shortly. So today, she was swallowing her pride. Shouting her goodbyes to Naivara as she left, she headed down the stairs, out of the front door of the house, and into the street.

Waterdeep was very different to Baldur’s Gate. At home, she was treated with deference by everyone she met. The heir to the Nilur fortune, and a powerful ally to have. She had been in demand as a performer, invited to play balls and elaborate dinners for the great and the good, before she would have to hang her lyre up on a wall on display and take over her father’s business. Such a shame, she would hear mutters on dance floors, to lose such a talent. But in Waterdeep, nobody cared for the business politics of a city hundreds of miles away. Only a few of the merchants at the harbour had heard of her family. The anonymity was refreshing, but the loss of her preceding reputation slightly less so. Instead of being invited to perform, she trudged all over the city to audition after audition. For every yes, she had to deal with the disappointment of what felt like a thousand nos. Here, if anyone did know her, it was as the apothecary’s sister trying to make it as a musician, and wasn’t that sweet?

Edmur had pulled a lot of strings to get her this job, and it chafed a little that she had to ask him for yet more help. But it was a steady job, with regular hours, and a boss who would be very understanding if she needed the time for auditions or performances.

She pulled her cloak around her, the Waterdhavian drizzle pattering against the hood as she made her way through the Castle Ward. The weather was probably the worst change. It felt like it rained every day in this damn city.

The Paper Plane was an unassuming store front, the name painted carefully above the door and large window in a bold purple paint. Kara noted with some satisfaction that her shirt was almost the same colour. This month’s display featured a number of academic textbooks and guides recommended for Blackstaff Academy’s course load, with the tower looming over it on the street behind.

Edmur had come up with the name, cackling with pride. The bookstore was run by one of his friends who had left the apothecary to open his own bookshop. Apparently, Yenril had owed Edmur a favour from an incident when they were younger, though both of them remained very tight lipped over what that actually was. The poor half elf hadn’t appreciated that Edmur would cash it in at the funniest opportunity he could find.

The shop was closed, but she could see Yenril poring over the account books at the till, and she knocked gently at the door. He looked up with a start. Yenril was a regular at Edmur’s house, and even at his most relaxed, he was wound as tight as a spring. Kara wasn’t sure how old he was. He looked the same age as her brother, late thirties, but with his Elven heritage she couldn’t be sure if that was accurate. He had short ash blonde hair carefully cropped at the sides, with small half moon spectacles that hung by a delicate silver chain around his neck. He was sweet, though, and when Edmur had semi bullied him into hiring Kara as an assistant, he had been very careful to not grumble about it in front of her.

She gave him a quick wave as he rushed to open the door.

“Happy first day!” he said, as she came in out of the rain, careful not to drip on the books. He closed the door behind her and locked it, mindful of any opportunistic customers sneaking in ahead of time. “There’s a staff room at the back.”

She followed him through the stockroom to a small office space, with a cloak rack and a few chairs squashed in behind a desk. The chairs looked suspiciously like nobody had ever sat in them.

“Yenril,” she said, running a hand over the cushions, “please tell me you didn’t get these because Edmur made you hire me.”

“Edmur didn’t make you hire me,” he replied, but the tips of his ears flushed the same way they did when he was atrociously bluffing at poker. “I needed an assistant. I can’t just close the shop every time Aspen and I need a day off.”

Aspen was Yenril’s long suffering girlfriend. She was supportive of Yenril’s endeavours, but Kara knew she was tired of having their lives revolve around their gruelling work schedules.

“Is she in today?” she asked, carefully hanging her cloak on the rack.

“After lunch. She thought it might be less overwhelming for you if I ran you through this morning just the two of us.” Kara silently thanked Aspen, wherever she was. She really liked the tiefling, but she had a very particular way of doing things.

It turned out that the process of opening up a shop for the day was far more complicated than Kara thought. There were the morning deliveries to cross check and process, accounts to balance, and an unbelievable number of shelves to dust. Yenril walked her through each step, helping her learn the layout, and handing her a small map he’d scribbled on the back of a piece of paper.

“This part is more of a learning by doing,” he said. “The shop is laid out pretty simply – this entire half is our magical books and tomes collection, divided by school in alphabetical order. If a customer asks you for a specific book title and you’re not sure where it is, asking for the school will help you narrow it down.”

Kara could see the schools in the same purple lettering on a hanging sign above each bookcase.

“Then over here,” and Yenril gestured to the other side of the shop, “we have general fiction, non fiction, cooking, history, arts, and so on. To be honest with where we are, we mostly sell the magic books, but sometimes wizards remember there’s more to life than studies.”

Kara had a vision of the shop stuffed to the brim with wizened old mages in pointy hats bickering over tiramisu, and she stifled a laugh.

“Besides,” Yenril said, pointing to one shelf, “we also stock some of the most ridiculous books in Waterdeep, which happen to be some of our bestsellers.” Kara pulled a book out of place to be greeted by the image of a very scantily clad dwarf maiden swooning in the arms of an impossibly swarthy half orc. The book proclaimed itself to be titled Loveforged. She laughed incredulously.

“You cannot be serious,” she said, flicking through the pages. The word turgid featured alarmingly often.

“Kara, most of our customers are incredibly repressed academics who never talk to anyone outside of their field of magic. You’d be amazed at how many of them will ask you if the newest installment of The Dances of the Forsakenseries is out yet.”

She put the book back in its place on the shelf.

“Wilder Magic comes out tomorrow, by the way,” Yenril added. “So you’re getting a bit of a baptism of fire.”

Kara swallowed a little.

A sharp tap on the glass of the door caught both their attention. Kara could see a tall figure standing in the doorway. His cloak hood was drawn over his head, poor protection against the drizzle that was threatening to become more. Kara found herself studying his features as he huddled under the porch for a little respite.

He was older than her, maybe by a decade. There were tiny hints of silver in his beard, which was more than a little unkempt. Even from here, she could see the crinkles around his eyes. She wondered if they were from smiling or reading. In a way that she couldn’t quite place, he had an intense energy to him, like he was constantly holding back an emotion she wasn’t sure of. He had a battered leather satchel slung over one shoulder that he was holding to his chest, trying to keep it from getting too wet.

“Speaking of repressed academics,” Yenril muttered. He headed over to the door, opening it very slightly. “Professor Dekarios, I know time keeping is not your strong suit, but there are still ten minutes before we open.”

“Yenril, I am begging you, you know it’s the first day of term at both the Academy and the University, I’m in classes all day and Vajra’s demanding I bring her The Way of the Wanderer before twelve hours. Please just let me collect the order now. I’ll bring you one of the university pastries after work. Hells, I’ll bring you five.”

Yenril sighed.

“Besides, you’ve let her in,” the man said rather petulantly, pointing at Kara. She suddenly felt very self conscious.

“I work here, actually,” she tried to say matter of factly, but it came out as more of a squeak. The man’s eyes narrowed at her.

“The customer holds are behind the till,” Yenril said to her, holding the door in place as the professor tried to follow after her. “You can wait here, thank you, Professor.”

Kara hurried to the till, spotting a large box filled with brown paper packages. Each one was labelled with the order name and contents in Yenril’s handwriting, as she carefully searched through, finding Professor Gale Dekarios near the the middle of the pile. There must have been five or six books in the package. She smirked as she spotted Loveforged amongst the title list.

She popped back up from behind the till, not quite able to wipe the grin off her face, and brought the package to the door. Professor Gale Dekarios took it from her and hurried off before she could say anything, but he caught her eye as he turned to leave. His brow furrowed at her expression, and she couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at him. As he left, she saw him check the package list and start, almost breaking into a run.

“You can settle up after work!” Yenril shouted after him. He closed the door with a sigh. “I really should stop letting him do that.”

Aside from the mysterious runaway professor, the morning passed mostly without incident. Kara found that her skills learned from schmoozing at performances lent themselves well to interacting with customers, who in turn were more forgiving of her being a little slower or unable to offer proper recommendations without handing off to Yenril. Aspen arrived at twelve hours, ready to relieve Kara for her break. Her hair was in meticulously plaited braids, and she had applied an elaborate eyeshadow of shimmering purples. Kara was used to her in a scraped back ponytail and maybe some eyeliner on a good day.

“Any special occasion?” she asked, finishing wrapping a heavy tome of conjuration magic and handing it to a teenage girl in academy robes.

“I finally had a morning off,” Aspen laughed, greeting Kara with a hug before heading into the staff room to take off her cloak. “That warrants celebrating in my book.”

The teenager nervously thanked Kara before trying to pick up her purchase, struggling with the weight of it.

“Oh, let me,” Kara said, pulling a paper bag from under the counter. She whistled a couple of notes, enchanting the bag with a simple charm, before sliding the book into it. “There you go,” she said, handing the now almost weightless bag over to the girl.

Yenril was staring at her from across the shop, from halfway up a ladder where he was working through the restocks. Kara felt herself blush.

“Should I not have done that?” she asked, wiping her hands on her front to try and stop them from sweating.

“I cannot believe I never thought of that,” Yenril said slowly, still holding a book in front of him. “That would have probably rescued a few of my lost sales.”

He put the book into its place on the shelf and climbed down off the ladder.

“I didn’t know you were a spellcaster,” he said, checking through Kara’s sales accounts for the morning.

“Just some basics,” she replied, as he made a few adjustments to her notes. “Our mother disapproved of magic. Edmur taught me a few tricks, and everything else I taught myself.”

“Well, we are around the corner from one of the greatest magic institutions this side of the Chiontar. Could always take some of their night classes.”

“I’m pretty sure those cost money, Yenril. Unless you want to give me a massive advance for my stellar customer service.”

“Massive advance, no, but I can offer you lunch money,” he said, pulling a few coins from his pocket and handing them to her. “Nice work this morning. Come back in an hour.”

And he pushed Kara out the door before she could object.

Chapter Text

Professor Gale Dekarios, for the most part, considered himself a very talented teacher. He was well liked by his students, at least according to his evaluations. He was usually on time. He always tried to prepare academically challenging lectures. Perhaps most importantly, he tried not to let his personal life encroach on his professional one, though this was proving far more difficult these days.

He split his time between Blackstaff Academy and the University of Waterdeep, and he preferred the Academy. He had spent probably too many years at the University finishing his doctoral thesis, but he always felt a little more at home in the school that he’d grown up and discovered the extent of his power in.

Also, Blackstaff Academy didn’t have his ex-wife lurking around every corner.

He grumbled to himself a little as he made his way to the Tower, trying to stow the parcel of books in his satchel. He’d forgotten he’d ordered that godsawful romance, but he’d already torn through the rest of the series at the recommendation of the Professor of Evocation. Why Yenril always insisted he denote all of his purchases so obviously was beyond him. That pretty new assistant was very clearly having a good laugh at his expense as he had left.

If he was completely honest with himself, she had been very pretty. She was maybe in her mid twenties, though she was quite short for a human, so it was hard to tell. Her eyes were a bright green, and her hair was an explosion of auburn and grey curls. Gale was certain he’d seen a pencil almost lost behind one ear. She had been wearing a delightful shade of purple, very close to his favourite hue, and it really had clung to her in all the right places. Her smile was infectious too, as irritating as it was that it was at his expense.

He heard the bells of the tower toll nine hours ahead of him and cursed. Of course he was going to be late to his first class of the year, and of course it was his oldest, rowdiest group.

He ran through the streets, before barrelling into the Tower and taking the stairs two at a time up to his classroom on the third floor, where a small brass plaque declared it to be the lecture hall of Professor Dekarios, School of Illusions. Gale had always found that illusory magic came most easily to him. It had the power to confound the senses, to render the impossible into reality, and to allow expression of that most magical attribute of all. Imagination. Gale always started his first lecture of each class with that little speech, and he always felt the truth resonate in his words, even if every year half of them mockingly recited it along with him.

He opened the door to a resounding groan from his students.

“Lovely to see you all too,” he quipped, heading to the lectern in the centre of the room and quickly stashing his satchel and books under it.

“Blackstaff Safahr said if you were more than fifteen minutes late, we could leave,” Timothy Perkins piped up from the back row. Gale glanced at the clock on the wall. He had made it with five minutes to spare. He was probably going to get a lecture of his own from Vajra later on if she’d been by and knew he was late.

“Yes, well, unfortunately for you, Perkins, you will have to endure the horrors of my teaching for the next hour and forty five minutes instead of whatever scheme you had concocted.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to take a calming breath. “Now. We return to our studies of illusory magic, a school of magic capable of the power to confound the senses…

The whole class joined in with his speech, and he couldn’t help but laugh. They had all been here long enough to indulge him just as much as he let them get away with murder.

“Beautiful oration. Lovely to see you haven’t lost your collective ability to drive me insane after your no doubt productive Highsun holidays, where I’m sure you all remembered to complete your preparatory coursework.”

He heard a good quarter of the class groan, and he sighed.

“If you require an extension,” he said heavily, “see me after the lecture, and if you have an acceptable extenuating circumstance I will let you hand it in at the start of next tenday.”

The rest of the class passed mostly calmly, aside from a slight hiccup where Timothy Perkins somehow managed to cast a Major Image of a cat that would not stop producing an ear splitting screech. Why was it always Timothy Perkins, Gale thought ruefully to himself, as he cast Silence over the cat and talked him through the process of dropping Concentration for what felt like the millionth time in the eight years he’d been his teacher. He had no idea how he’d even gotten Major Image stuck the way he had.

As his first class filed out the hall, excuses made for forgotten work, Perkins’ friends good naturedly teasing him as they left, his next class didn’t enter. Gale’s brow furrowed, and he poked his head out into the corridor.

A small group of very scared seven year olds were lined up against the wall. These were the youngest charges, all brand new to the Academy. Gale rarely, if ever, taught this class; he was responsible for the older groups, but at the beginning of each year, all new students would have a lesson within each school of magic. After that, they would begin their preparatory classes.

He smiled kindly at them, remembering his first day. How everything was so much bigger than he was. He waved an arm over the classroom, and the desks and chairs disappeared, replaced with more suitable cushions and tiny armchairs.

“Good morning,” he said, gesturing at the lecture hall. “Welcome to your first Illusions class.”

They filed in one by one, the bolder children quickly staking their claims on the comfiest looking chairs. Once they had all settled, Gale strode to the centre of the room, flicked out the back of his robes with a flourish, and sat straight onto the floor. They giggled.

This time, when Gale gave his speech, nobody said a word. They all stared at him, completely enraptured. Gale always loved this first class, so full of promise for his newest cohort. They were still excited, hadn’t had their love of magic dulled just yet by homework or deadlines. Being Blackstaff Academy students, they were each potential prodigies, but for the first year at least, they were just there to fall in love with magic the way he had.

At this age, it was more about controlling outbursts of magic than actually teaching spells for the first term, but Gale always liked a challenge. He’d modified a nonlethal version of Colour Spray during his thesis studies for a laugh, and quickly found it was a very easy spell for beginners to learn, with captivating results. By the end of the hour, the room was glowing with multicoloured lights, his students squealing with delight as they burst above them.

As the bells rang for twelve hours, they ran into the corridors, heading straight for the canteen on the fifth floor. He walked out behind them, books from the lectern under his arm, dispelling the lights with a wave of his hand and locking the classroom door.

“No casting outside lecture halls!” he called after them, as he saw a wayward pink light explode above one of the retreating students.

He heard a small cough behind him. Vajra Safahr was stood in the corridor, arms crossed. Barely five feet, with olive skin and shoulder length black hair in tight spirals, Blackstaff Safahr was probably the most intimidating woman Gale had ever met. She had been his boss for eight years, and she still never referred to him by his first name.

“Professor Dekarios,” she said, as if she had read his mind (and knowing Vajra, she probably had.) “I trust you haven’t forgotten?”

Gale unwrapped his order of books. Thankfully, The Way of the Wanderer was first in the pile. He handed it over to her, and of course he’d offered thanks far too soon, because the lurid cover of Loveforged was right below. He quickly stuffed the rest of his books into his bag.

Vajra, to her credit, said nothing, but gave him a stiff nod of thanks and turned to leave.

“It’s for a friend,” he blurted out.

“Of course, Professor Dekarios,” the Blackstaff said, walking away from him without breaking her stride. “Just don’t let the students see.”

He could hear her stifling a laugh.

He had just enough time to head to the Markets nearby for his lunch, before he needed to get to the University for meetings with his postgraduate students. He headed down the stairs, dodging students and staff with a curt nod as he passed, mind focused solely on food. After a long and frankly rather emotionally fraught Highsun holiday, so much magic in one morning had ramped up his appetite.

The Markets sat proudly in the centre of Waterdeep. Packed with brightly coloured stalls and carts, selling everything and anything a person could think of, Gale could spend hours idly window shopping if he could. Sadly, he would only be able to peruse the food stalls in his lunch hour. He knew it would take him at least fifteen minutes to decide what he wanted.

He wandered a little aimlessly amongst the stalls, and turned a corner only to spot a face he was praying he wouldn’t have to see today.

His ex-wife, Mystra Corwion, was deep in conversation with a dwarf selling elaborate jewellery, while the deputy dean of the university stood next to her looking through his wares. It still set his teeth on edge that she shared a name with the goddess he’d worshipped his entire life. He hadn’t seen her for the whole of the Highsun holidays, not since the paperwork was finally completed and she had swept out of the room without so much as a by your leave. He knew he was probably going to have to face both of them at the University at some point, but he thought at least he had another hour of peace. She had her arm casually looped through the deputy dean’s. The dwarf handed her a ring with a diamond so big Gale could see it even from a distance.

He quickly stepped back the way he came, and because he was so distracted he promptly slammed right into someone.

“Shit, I am so sorry,” a young woman said, holding half of a carton of spiced chicken, and Gale realised with a sinking heart that the other half was now dripping down his robes. She ineffectually dabbed at him with a napkin. He cast Prestidigitation with an irritated wave of his hand, and the worst of the mess vanished.

He opened his mouth to apologise, but something about the woman seemed awfully familiar. Before he’d managed to place her, she grinned at him.

“Oh, hello, Professor,” she said, and he groaned as he recognised her. Those same bright green eyes. That mess of curls. Of course he’d somehow managed to walk straight into the pretty new bookshop assistant.

“Delightful to see you too,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

“Ah, no,” he said quickly, somehow feeling even more flustered, “I was, um, distracted momentarily.”

“Oh, so you’ve started on your book order already?” she asked him, that sly smile from earlier back on her face. “I do hope you weren’t reading that filth in class.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mystra look up from the jewellery stall and straight at him.

“No,” he snapped, far more sharply than he meant to. “I have to go. Classes to teach. Excuse me.”

He marched away from her, but he saw her face fall as he left. He felt awful. The only crime the poor girl had committed was standing in the pathway of his escape. He wasn’t used to meeting people who teased him: behind his back, probably, but to his face, new people treated him with deference or respect. He could tell, though, that it was tinged with insincerity most of the time. The assistant had tried to joke with him. That was rather nice, if he’d been in the mood to entertain it. He made a mental note to bring her the tastiest pastry he could grab from the university canteen as an apology after his meetings. He quickly grabbed a flatbread stuffed with ham and cheeses from a stall as he passed, tossing a silver coin as payment.

The University of Waterdeep was a collection of buildings just north of the Markets. His offices resided in the Silverhand Building, a beautiful redbrick townhouse that housed a number of his department. He had a handful of postgraduate students under his care, all of whom had chosen to specialise in illusory magic for their doctoral theses. One of them had been one of Gale’s first students at the Academy when he’d started there eight years ago, and while he would never say it to the rest of his students, Quinn Lightberry was his favourite.

Quinn was an exceptionally bright halfling who had a temper as quick as her spellcasting. She also had a talent for spell manipulation that almost matched his. She was writing her thesis on her research into simulacrums and whether they could be manipulated into other forms outside of touching range, and had been making excellent headway. She had also caused quite the stir when she had requested a transfer from Mystra to Gale last year.

“She just acts like a bitch,” was the only explanation that she’d offered the committee. Given that the divorce was at its disastrous peak at that point, Gale hadn’t exactly jumped in to defend Mystra, and happily took on an extra student. They were now dangerously close to becoming friends, although Gale was hyper aware on how that might reflect on him.

Her tutorial wasn’t for another half an hour, but she was sitting in the common room of the building, poring over her notes ahead of the session. She looked up as he entered and gave him a cheerful wave.

He sat in the plush armchair opposite her with a long sigh, and took a huge bite of his flatbread. Whoever had made it had been annoyingly stingy with the ham.

“Academy classes went well, then,” she said, circling something on the papers in front of her in red. He swallowed.

“No, they were fine. I’ve just made a complete fool of myself at the market,” he sighed. He took another bite. At least the cheeses were good, and there was a hint of green pesto. Not as nice as the one he made, but still perfectly serviceable.

“Professor Dekarios, you? Being socially inept? Perish the thought,” she said, turning over a page, and he glared at her.

“I can still fail you, you know,” he grumbled.

“I’d like to see you try.” She flicked open a book on the sofa next to her with a wave of her hand, and it floated up beside her as she skimmed through. “So what happened?”

“Saw my ex-wife,” he said, through his next mouthful of flatbread. “Tried to run away. Ran into someone I knew and was unspeakably rude.”

“Sounds about right for you, Gale.”

“You are getting entirely too familiar with me,” he said with a rueful grin.

“I’m not the one that married my advisor,” she retorted, dodging as Gale threw a piece of ham at her. “Don’t get pesto on my notes!”

“We’re not getting into that again,” he said grumpily. Quinn had many, many opinions on his failed marriage, and he was loathe to admit that she was right about every single one of them. He was absolutely not going to tell her what he’d seen Mystra buying at the market.

“Anyway,” he said, obviously changing the subject, “Paper Plane has a new assistant who I only met this morning, I walked right into her trying to get away, and I am almost entirely positive that she now hates me.”

“Yenril’s finally hired someone? Thank the Gods,” Quinn said, copying a quote into her notes from her book. “That poor man was about to have a breakdown, the way he’s going. What’s she like?”

Gale desperately tried to think of any other description than pretty.

“About your age, I think. I don’t really know anything about her apart from she works in the bookshop and looks nice in purple.”

Quinn snorted. Gale silently cursed at himself.

“Sounds like your perfect woman,” she said, and this time, Gale managed to hit her square in the nose with a piece of cheese.

His afternoon passed quickly. Quinn had spent the summer buried in library books, with the results to show for it. They’d spent most of the meeting discussing how best to structure her findings. Emin Oakgleam, a slim and slightly haughty human who had been working with Gale for two years now, had reached an impasse on his research into illusion spells that drew their energy from the Shadowfell as well as the Weave, and Gale had given him a gigantic list of books to peruse at the library to try and get past his writer’s block. Daeris Amberbell, a tiefling and the very first doctoral student that he’d been trusted with, was practically finished with his thesis on the analysis of Weird and how the Weave could detect a person’s deepest fears, only needing a few tweaks before he began his final write up and preparations for his defence. Finally, Loren Davenport, a very nervous young human and his newest student, had been hard at work on developing her thesis subject before the term had even started, on the difference of each wizard’s connection to the Weave specific to illusion magic and how one could strengthen this to their advantage. She had a promising list of books to read through, and they spent most of their session excitedly discussing their favourites.

All in all, it was much less terrible than he was expecting it to be, and he was grateful to remember he had doctoral students that actually seemed to enjoy what they were doing. Despite the fact he’d been acting as an advisor for three years now, he’d never quite shaken the feeling that they would have rather been assigned to Mystra instead, Quinn excepted.

He swung by the canteen in the main building, swiping a few cinnamon rolls from the display when the staff’s back was turned, and made his way over to The Paper Plane. He had about an hour to spare before they closed. Plenty of time to properly apologise.

When he arrived, Yenril was manning the till. He didn’t even look up from his books as he approached.

“Next time, I’m going to make you wait out in the rain,” he said tartly.

“I brought you some pastries,” he said a little lamely. “Is that new assistant of yours still here?”

Yenril shook his head. “I just sent her home for the day. Why?”

“Could you save one for her? And let her know I’m sorry?”

Yenril gave him an odd look, but Gale didn’t particularly want to elaborate.

“Pay your outstanding bill first and I’ll think about it.”

Chapter Text

Yenril hadn’t been kidding. When Kara arrived at The Paper Plane for her second day, there was a queue down the street, and there was still twenty minutes to go before opening time. The academic display in the window was gone, instead replaced with stacks of Wilder Magic, alongside some of the other books in its series. Yenril let her in quickly, and she headed to the back to hang up her cloak. He’d set up a queueing system of red rope leading up to the till.

“Today,” he said, handing her yet more copies, “we just try and survive. No holding copies back. Purchase or leave is our motto.”

She looked down at the cover. This time, a tiefling wearing what could only be described as the bare essentials for modesty was hanging out of a balcony window, bosom heaving, reaching down to a bare chested elf. At least, she thought it was an elf judging by the illustration’s pointed ears, but he was so muscly even his abs had abs, and he was wider than he was tall.

“And people enjoy this,” she said, holding it up at Yenril.

“Our other motto,” he replied, “is no book shaming.”

He motioned for her to distribute them on display tables dotted around the shop.

“Can I buy one? Before we open?” she asked impulsively. Yenril grinned at her.

“I’ve stashed a copy for you and a copy for Aspen in the staff room. She was really hoping you’d want one. Think of it as a bonus if you get through today.”

Kara personally thought Yenril was being a little bit dramatic. She ran through the morning checklist again, as he fussed over the display tables. The morning stock take was much simpler than the previous day’s, but she noted down some of their more popular textbooks that would need replacing, alongside a few other titles that Yenril had mentioned.

“Want me to give it one more sweep through?” she asked him, as opening time drew closer.

“No point,” Yenril said grimly. “They’re all going to traipse dirt through here anyway in a minute.”

As the bell tolled nine hours outside, the first customer in line began to angrily rap on the glass. Yenril grimaced as he went to open the door.

“You’re on till today,” he said, bracing himself as he turned the lock.  And suddenly, the shop was absolutely stuffed full of what felt like every single resident of Waterdeep, grabbing for copies like they were made of gold and rushing towards her.

“An orderly queue, please!” Yenril pleaded, while no less than six people thrust books at Kara’s nose. He chivvied them into place as Kara rang up the books as quickly as she could.

It was, as he had predicted, absolute chaos. Kara’s head was swimming as she tried to get through the never ending stream of people at the till. It was so loud she could barely hear herself think. Aspen arrived at twelve hours, and instead of relieving Kara for a break, they decided it would be easier if they simply both manned the tills to try and get through the queue.

At around one, their stock began to dwindle, and the arguments began to start. Thankfully, Aspen’s intimidatingly large presence was enough to head most of them off at the pass, but she still wasn’t prepared for the tiefling to bodily throw one man out the door when he tried to punch a poor old halfling for the last copy. The shop quickly emptied after him as the other patrons realised they had arrived too late.

As Kara put the money through the till and handed the book to the halfling, the old woman smiled and tried to hand her a silver coin as a tip.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she said, pressing it back into her hands. “Just come back and tell me if you enjoyed it.”

“I’ll walk you back to yours, Euphemia,” Aspen said, dusting her hands off with a satisfied grin. Yenril closed the door behind them, putting a sign in the window to say they had sold out of copies, and locked it.

“We’re closing early,” he said, sliding down it to sit on the floor with a heavy sigh. The shop was a mess. All of the display tables were empty, covered in fingerprints. The wooden floors were almost caked with mud in places. Kara pulled her hair up into a messy bun and massaged her temples, before heading to the back to grab a mop.

After an hour of intensive cleaning, the shop finally looked presentable. Yenril sighed, wiping his forehead free from the light sheen of sweat that had settled. Aspen was beginning to reorder the shelves back to their usual configuration. She waved over Kara, handing her a list of books to pull from the stockroom.

“Oh, I forgot,” Yenril said, as they both headed to the back. “Gale dropped off some pastries yesterday if you need to tide yourselves over. They’re on my desk.”

Kara felt her stomach rumble. They’d been so busy she hadn’t even registered that they’d all worked through lunch, and now she had the time to think, she was absolutely starving. But the man that had snapped at her at the market yesterday didn’t seem like the sort to do something quite so altruistic.

“Professor Dekarios?” she asked, as casually as she could. “Did he…say anything when he came by?”

“Oh! Yes, actually,” Yenril replied. “I meant to ask you about it. He said to say he was sorry and to save you a pastry.”

“That’s it?” Kara felt more than a little irritated. “He practically bit my head off.”

“Gale?!” Aspen said incredulously, sticking her head out from the staff room with a cinnamon roll hanging out of her mouth. “That man couldn’t say boo to a goose! What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Kara said petulantly. “He walked into me and made me drop my spiced chicken!”

Aspen squinted at her.

“Okay, maybe I cracked a joke about him ordering a copy of Loveforged, but that was before I knew about your book shaming rule –“ she cut off Yenril with a held up hand as he opened his mouth to tell her off – “and he stormed off before I could say anything else, and he actually groaned when he recognised me in the first place! I hadn’t even said anything then! I only got a bit of chicken on him!”

“So you walked into him, threw half your lunch over his robes, and then insulted his taste in books, and somehow that’s his fault?”

Kara was silent for a moment.

“Well, when you put it like that,” she mumbled. Aspen grinned at her, clearly revelling in being right.

Chapter Text

Gale hadn’t meant to walk to The Paper Plane after his classes, but somehow his treacherous feet had made the journey for him, and now he was hovering near the window trying not to look like a complete lunatic.

The shopfront was bare, a rarity for the display, and Yenril seemed to have closed early for the day. He hadn’t quite got the courage to look properly through the window to check if anyone was there still there. He really needed to apologise to Bookshop Girl properly. He also actually needed to learn her name instead of calling her Bookshop Girl.

He saw movement in the window. Yenril was stocking it with the Blackstaff Academy recommended reading list. He spotted Gale hovering near the door and rolled his eyes, putting the books down and heading to the front door, tapping on the ‘Closed’ sign.

“We ran out of Wilder Magic over an hour ago, Professor. You’ll have to order in like the rest of Waterdeep,” he said, voice muffled through the glass.

“What? No, that’s not – is your assistant here?” Gale asked, feeling his robes tighten at the collar. “I was hoping to speak to her in person.”

Yenril exhaled heavily.

“Wait here, she’s just in the stockroom,” he said, shaking his head at him, before heading off into the shop. Gale craned his neck after him as he vanished into the back rooms, before Bookshop Girl came barrelling out, holding a book in her hands. Her hair was piled on her head today, barely constrained in an unruly topknot. She had phenomenal cheekbones, he thought, before he could stop himself.

She unlocked the door and stepped out into the street.

“I’m so sorry for yesterday,” they said in unison.

“Wait, why are you sorry?” she asked him.

“What are you apologising for?” he asked her at the same time.

He held up his hands, and gestured for her to go first.

“I’m sorry for making fun of your book choices,” she said. “And for throwing my lunch down your teaching robes.”

“It’s quite alright,” he said. “They’ve had far worse treatment. You should see them after the first years have learnt how to summon paints on command.”

She laughed, so genuine it caught him off guard for a second. She laughed with her whole body, not just her mouth. He never made adults laugh. Hells, most of the time, his students didn’t even chuckle at his jokes.

“Still,” she said, and Gale found he already missed the sound of her laughter as it died away, “I’m sorry anyway.”

“I’m the one that walked into you. You just caught me at a bad time. It doesn’t excuse my behaviour, and I should have apologised in person rather than expecting a cinnamon roll to do the work on my behalf.”

He ran a hand through his hair, unsure whether to offer more explanation, and she shifted her weight uncomfortably between her feet.

“I was trying to avoid my ex-wife,” Gale blurted out to fill the silence. She looked up at him, surprised. “I wasn’t expecting to see her at the market with…I wasn’t expecting to see her.”

He cleared his throat. “So I’m sorry for snapping at you. It wasn’t anything to do with what you said.”

“Ah, so I shouldn’t offer you this as an apology gift.” She held out the book she was holding, and Gale took it from her. He laughed despite himself as he read the cover. She had handed him a pristine copy of Wilder Magic. “I’ll be wanting that back when you’re done, I think Aspen wants me to start some sort of smut club with her.”

“It’ll give you the time to catch up on the rest of the series,” he said, grinning, putting the book in his satchel. “In The Eyes of the Beholder is particularly depraved.”

“I look forward to it, then,” she said with a wink, and Gale felt himself blush. He’d never been brilliant with social cues, but he was almost certain that she was flirting with him. Through books. If that was even possible. “See you around, Professor.”

She let herself back into the shop, locking the door and waving at him through the glass, and Gale groaned to himself as he realised he’d once again forgotten to ask her name.

He walked through the streets back to his home in a bit of a daze, replaying the conversation over and over in his mind. He was at his front door before he knew it, and he let himself in, his tabby cat rubbing around his feet as he kicked off his shoes.

He bent to scratch her ears absentmindedly, and she meowed impatiently in response.

“Right, yes, Tara,” he said, straightening up and heading to the kitchen. “Dinner first.”

He threw his satchel on the kitchen table and grabbed a tin of tuna from her stack on the countertop, quickly emptying it into her dish. As Tara began to eat greedily, despite the fact she was probably the best fed feline in Waterdeep, Gale sat heavily on one of the chairs.

He couldn’t get her laugh out of his head. It was so carefree. He’d heard so many melodies within the sound, felt a swell of pride knowing it was something he had said that had elicited such a joyful noise. Mystra had always tolerated his jokes. After a while, she had simply told him he was smarter than that. He had stopped trying to make her laugh a long time ago and had settled for trying to impress her instead.

In hindsight, that probably wasn’t the healthiest marriage dynamic, but their relationship had never been that healthy in the first place.

He pulled Wilder Magic from his satchel, flipping it over to read the synopsis. He really didn’t know how Bianca Brooks managed to take herself so seriously. Then again, he was the one that read through everything she’d ever published in the space of a tenday.

He grabbed some leftovers from the day before from the icebox and headed into his drawing room, flopping onto the sofa with a sigh and opening the book to the first page. Tara padded through after him, hopping up onto his stomach and settling for her evening nap.

Bianca Brooks had absolutely outdone herself with her latest publication. The protagonists were a rival tiefling sorcerer and eleven wizard, pitted against each other by their families over a decades old grudge, but drawn to each other by their mutual passion for magic. The depictions of the Weave were wildly inaccurate, and Gale highly doubted that Panorin’s use of Mage Hand to pleasure himself in Chapter Six would be in any way comfortable, let alone entirely possible, but as Khalsa and Panorin finally crashed their lips into each other in Chapter Fourteen he couldn’t help but be drawn in.

For some reason, he found himself thinking about what Bookshop Girl’s mouth would feel like crashing into his.

Chapter Text

The Smiling Siren was a tavern Kara had been to a handful of times, and it was fast becoming her favourite place in Waterdeep. They served cheap gin, the bards played her favourite rowdy folk songs, and most importantly, absolutely nobody asked her questions about books. After five days in a row working full time in the shop, she and Yenril were ready to knock back as much alcohol as their systems could take.

She grabbed her glass of water from the barkeep and headed back over to their table. Edmur was already most of the way through a bottle of wine, laughing uproariously at some lewd joke Aspen had no doubt cracked at her expense. Naivara had sent them both out without her, determined to finally read her book in peace without one or the other of them bothering her to see if she needed anything. Yenril, meanwhile, had finally had enough wine to relax. As much as Yenril was capable of relaxing, anyway.

“Stop that,” she laughed, as they saw her glass of water and began booing her loudly. “I’ll drink after my set.”

Twice this month, the Smiling Siren had let her perform on two conditions: that she accept a lower fee while she got herself established, and every other song had to encourage patrons to drink. Thankfully, being the younger sibling of a much older brother, Kara was well acquainted with the classics. Tonight, the tavern were paying her the established rate with the promise of a regular slot, so long as the performance went as well as her previous ones had gone.

She double checked her lute was still in its case by the table. She wasn’t as proficient in the lute, but most of the songs the patrons wanted weren’t exactly musically taxing. She had tried to play her lyre in a similar tavern in Baldur’s Gate, once, and it wasn’t an experience she particularly wanted to relive.

“So tell me,” Edmur said to the table, “how’s Kara’s first week going?”

“All this considered, pretty well,” Yenril said, his words slurring slightly. “Even if she’s already managed to offend one of my best customers.”

“Gale is not your best customer,” Aspen argued, almost throwing her drink down her boyfriend.

“Most prolific, then!”

“I apologised,” Kara cut them off before they could get too far into bickering. “And so did the Professor, who I’d like to remind you admitted it was his fault and not mine.”

Edmur rested his face on his hands, elbows on the table, and batted his eyes at his sister.

“The Professor, is it? You always did have a thing for old men.”

Kara shoved him. “Arthur Pentecost was six months older than me, you dickhead. And I was eight. Let it go.”

“Which one is Gale again?” Edmur asked Yenril, who was pouring himself another glass of wine. “Is he Questionable Smell Academic, Snobby Academic, or Hot Academic?”

“Hot Academic,” Yenril and Aspen said matter-of-factly. Kara almost choked on her drink. Edmur laughed at her as she Prestidigitated the water off of her shirt.

“Would we call him hot?” she asked. “Unconventially handsome, maybe.” And unintentionally funny, and his hair was always delightfully tousled, and okay, maybe she was sort of attracted to him, but Kara decided to keep those opinions to himself to save her from Edmur’s teasing.

“Kara, you haven’t seen the rest of the professors,” Yenril said. “The only other attractive person in that faculty is Mystra Corwion, and she’s been Snobby Academic since we opened.”

“What’s on the list for tonight, then?” Aspen asked, mercifully changing the subject, slamming back her gin like it was Kara’s water. “Please, please tell me you’re playing She Lay All Naked.”

“Are you kidding?” Kara laughed. “If I didn’t open with that they’d throw me out.”

Aspen cheered, and as if on cue, the barkeep whistled at Kara to get on stage. Kara gave her a quick nod, grabbed her lute from out its case, and pushed her way to the makeshift stage at the front of the tavern.

“Good evening!” she yelled, quickly casting Thaumaturgy on herself so she could be heard over the raucous crowd. She heard Edmur and Yenril bang their fists on the table to try and get them to be quiet. “My name is Kara Nilur, and I will be your Siren for tonight! And don’t worry,” she said with a wink to a skeptical looking dwarf sat near the stage, “I know all the good words, and more than enough of the bad words too.” She blew him a kiss and laughed as she saw red creeping up his neck.

She Lay All Naked was a truly awful song made entirely of double entendres, which was precisely why it was so popular with the usual crowd, who sung along with gusto. As much as it wasn’t the audience she was used to back in Baldur’s Gate, they were so much more fun to play for. She didn’t have to be perfect, she didn’t have to even try particularly hard. The Smiling Siren gigs were the ones where she let go and finally enjoyed herself.

She had the crowd in the palm of her hand, and she could see the tavern landlord grinning at her from across the room. The bar was packed full of patrons jostling to buy another drink as she encouraged them to take a sip every time they heard any slang for genitals in A Wanton Trick. She could see Edmur pretending to be embarrassed by her as Aspen shouted to anyone who would listen that that was her friend on stage.

The blushing dwarf brought her a shot after two more songs, each somehow filthier than the last, and she knocked it back with him as the crowd roared with approval. They didn’t need to know the bartenders made sure her shot was always plain tonic.

“This next one,” she said, fiddling with the keys to her lute to tune them a little, “goes out to anyone who has ever wanted to sleep with a musician. Congratulations, you have excellent taste. And this musician tastes excellent.”

She tossed her hair over her shoulder as her audience laughed, making a show of scanning over them. The door to the tavern opened, and to her surprise, she spotted Gale, being dragged through the doorway by a young halfling woman. He was quickly followed by the rest of his group, all probably about the right age to be his doctorate students. He really did not look like he wanted to be there. They wrangled him over to a table, his back to her. He hadn’t noticed her yet.

She hadn’t seen him since she’d given him her book, and she didn’t know if he was avoiding her or if he was just that busy with his workload.

Either way, she thought with a devilish grin, she was really going to have fun with this performance, as she began to belt out her next song.

Chapter Text

Gale never should have agreed to a night out with his students. He wasn’t even sure if it was allowed, even though Quinn had insisted she had triple checked the university guidelines. He appreciated he was younger than the average advisor at thirty-six, and his students were all between twenty-five and thirty, but it still felt wrong somehow. Still, their first official tenday back had been particularly gruelling, and he supposed it would be nice to get to know all of them outside of the university walls. He had begrudgingly agreed to meet them at the Owlbear, an upscale wine bar close to the Tower that he sometimes frequented with the other professors after work.

Then Daeris had told Quinn he’d heard the Smiling Siren had a new bard on the books, who knew all of the classics and many more besides, and somehow a quiet night in a wine bar had turned into them forcing him to a tavern he had never been to and would quite happily never have stepped foot in. He groaned as Quinn grabbed his arm and bodily dragged him through the door, Emin and Daeris laughing behind them. At least Loren looked as uncomfortable as he was.

“Lighten up, Professor,” Quinn laughed at him, quickly snagging an empty table close to the door. “You might actually have fun if you let loose once in a while.”

“I doubt that,” he said grumpily. “And for gods’ sake, please don’t call me Professor outside of the Tower. I would much rather you call me Gale and I can try and pretend this isn’t unbelievably inappropriate.”

“Again, you married your advisor,” Quinn laughed, and Gale rolled his eyes at her. “You’re allowed to be friends with us, you know. You’re stuck with me for at least another year. Loren’s still got to deal with you for four.”

Loren started a little at the mention of her name.

“Be nice, Quinn,” Gale chided.

“I’m always nice!”

She made a beeline for the bar, and Gale already dreaded whatever she was going to bring back.

Someone started singing, accompanied by the lute, and Daeris cheered along with the crowd. Gale was sat with his back to the stage, but whoever was singing had a full, warm alto voice, clearly practiced. What she was singing was complete and utter filth, a song about a rustic dwarven blacksmith that put a ridiculous gap in the middle of the word ‘country’ every other line as Loren stifled a giggle, but the singer herself had a truly beautiful voice that turned the myriad of euphemisms into glorious poetry.

As Quinn carried back a round of suspicious looking whiskey, handing him a glass, he turned in his seat to look at the stage.

He almost immediately lost his grip.

“Hells, Gale, are you alright?” Quinn asked, quickly catching it before it fell on the floor. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost and you’ve not even drunk that yet.”

“Um. Yes,” he sputtered, taking the glass as Quinn handed it to him. “It’s just…I know her.”

Bookshop Girl caught his eye just as she was singing a line about the pleasures of banging and hammering. He felt himself blushing furiously as she grinned, clearly enjoying herself.

“You are joking,” Daeris said, sounding a little in awe of his advisor. “How?”

“I don’t know her very well,” Gale said defensively. “She works at The Paper Plane. She lent me a book.”

“That’s her?” Quinn said incredulously. “‘Works in a bookshop, looks nice in purple’, don’t know her name, lent you literally the dirtiest book ever written in the history of Toril? Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“What book did she lend him?” Emin asked, utterly entranced by the whole conversation.

“Wilder Magic,” Quinn told him before Gale could stop her. “She got a copy the day it came out and gave it to him to read first. He’s been too swamped to give it back.”

“Holy shit, the new Forsaken novel? I heard it got banned from all the school buildings by the dean before it even got published!”

“Why do you know all this, Quinn?” he groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“Because you forget you’ve told me and I live to torture you,” she cackled.

Bookshop Girl finished her song, and his students clapped and cheered. She waved at them, dashing Gale’s hopes that perhaps she hadn’t actually recognised him in the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, voice amplified by magic, “we have a very special guest in the audience tonight!” Oh, gods, she wouldn’t. “Put your hands together for Professor Gale Dekarios, everyone!”

He heard familiar shouts, and as he looked over to the other side of the bar, he could see Yenril and Aspen laughing their heads off, sat with a broad shouldered man with brown curls and a familiar grin. He would put good money on that being Bookshop Girl’s brother.

“In honour of the esteemed Professor,” Bookshop Girl said from the stage, “I feel it’s only proper to end my set on a Waterdeep special. You may have to help me with the words,” she called out to him, and Gale desperately wanted the ground to swallow him up so he didn’t have to hear his bloody students snickering. “This one’s a little new to me.”

And to his horror, she launched into a song he, along with anyone local to Waterdeep, happened to know very well, the legendarily bawdy Ballad of the Blackstaff. His students, even Loren, immediately began to shout along as he sank even further into his stool.

“This is the last time I ever go on a social outing with you,” he muttered, as Quinn elbowed him in the ribs to try and get him to join in.

“It was worth it,” she yelled back, as Emin, Loren and Daeris hollered out how all the best staffs had a knob on the end. Gale didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at this point.

After several excruciating encores, the song finally finished, and the bard took a deep bow as the tavern cheered. She hopped off the stage, casually slinging the lute over her shoulder by its strap. Gale prayed she would go to Yenril’s table, but of course, she pushed her way straight over to theirs instead.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you here, Professor,” she laughed, and before he could react she kissed him quickly on the cheek in greeting. “Hope I didn’t embarrass you too much in front of who I assume are your students?”

“They are never going to let me live this down,” he said, but he couldn’t help but smile back at her. “I had a very nice, quiet evening at the Owlbear planned, but Quinn had other ideas.”

Quinn practically shoved him out the way and stuck out her hand.

“I’m Quinn,” she said, and Bookshop Girl took her hand and shook it. “One of Gale’s doctorate students. I have heard so much about you.” Gale tried to kick Quinn without her noticing, but the stool was too precarious to do so without making it obvious, so he settled for a scowl instead.

“Kara,” his mystery friend replied, and Gale silently thanked every god he could think of and a few more besides that he could stop referring to her as Bookshop Girl. “And that is very flattering to hear,” she added, giving Gale an amused look.

“Only awful things,” Gale clarified, trying not to blush any deeper. “Like how you threw chicken all down my front and mocked my purchasing habits.”

Kara laughed, and it was just as wonderful as the first time he’d managed to get her to do it.

“He didn’t mention you were a musician by trade, though,” Quinn said, as Kara pulled up a stool and sat with them.

“He didn’t know,” Kara replied, flagging down a waiter for as large a glass of gin and tonic as they would give her. “I’m still…establishing myself a little bit in Waterdeep. This is my most successful gig.”

“I’ll say,” Daeris said dreamily, leaning on his hand and staring at Kara. She smiled indulgently back at him. Loren elbowed him in the ribs and he snapped out of his reverie. Gale felt a small stab of annoyance in the pit of his stomach.

“I’m only sorry I didn’t know earlier,” he said to Kara. “You’re very talented. I would be much more complimentary if you hadn’t just bullied me in front of a packed tavern.”

She beamed at him, and his heart glowed.

“So how come you’re at the Paper Plane?” Quinn asked.

“I’m working there between auditions,” Kara told her. “Just to make a bit of cash so I don’t have to keep sponging off my brother.”

“How are you finding it?”

“Customers are a mixed bag,” Kara said, grinning at Gale, “but I’m learning a lot. Yenril gets a lot of specialist books in that I can pick through on quieter moments, try and build a bit more bardic knowledge.”

“Oh, you’re a mage too,” Quinn said, waggling her eyebrows at Gale in a way that was completely obvious to everyone in the tavern.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Kara said, and her cheeks definitely went a little pink. “Especially not in such esteemed company.” Her gin arrived, and she took a deep drink. “I should probably get back to my lot,” she said, as Gale heard Aspen hollering for Kara across the room. “It was great to meet you guys.”

She put a hand on Gale’s arm, and the unexpected touch sent a thrill through him.

“Let me know when I can have my book back,” she said to him with that wicked smile of hers, before pushing through the crowd back to her friends.

His entire table looked at him. Quinn was smiling so hard her face looked like it was about to crack open.

“I’m failing all of you,” Gale said, throwing back his whiskey in one gulp.

Chapter Text

Kara’s head was thumping as she dragged herself out of bed. She knew letting Edmur buy that third bottle of wine was a mistake.

Her pouch of coin sat where she’d thrown it on the bedside table the night before. She picked it up, testing the weight of it in her hands. Between the fee and the tips a number of bar patrons had left for her, she’d managed to make more last night than she had in a month. She offered a silent prayer of thanks as she carefully stowed it in the table drawer.

Hopefully, with her now regular gig there every tenday and her shifts at the shop, it would be enough to cover the deposit and rent for a room in a house share that wasn’t with her brother.

The thought of actually having a room of her very own perked her up enough to get ready for her shift. Knowing how shitfaced Yenril had gotten by the end of the night, she suspected her hangover would be easily forgiven. Kara vaguely remembered him trying to climb on the table, shouting something about being more fun than they all gave him credit for. She also knew that she was the only one who had actually drunk any water.

She had finished her makeup and was pulling the strings of her dress tight behind her when she heard a small knock on her door.

“Come in,” she said, her voice cracking a little. Gods, but the bar had been loud. She should have been more careful.

Edmur dragged himself into her room, before collapsing face first on her bed. He was still in his clothes from the night before.

“Didn’t even make it up the stairs?” she asked him. He just groaned into her pillow. She tied the strings in place, admiring herself in her mirror. Dressing up when she was hungover always made her feel a little better. It was her favourite dress, sleeveless and square necked, muted pastel florals on a yellow background. She’d layered the pirate shirt underneath for a semblance of modesty, but it was still quite low cut at the front, and the dress was working overtime on her cleavage. Hopefully alluring enough to persuade people to buy books from an assistant they wouldn’t notice was still a little hungover.

“Why do you look so nice?” Edmur mumbled, managing to turn his head enough to look at her.

“I’m trying to look like a human being,” Kara said, wrangling her hair into two plaits. “Got to open the shop with Yenril in an hour.”

Edmur snorted. “I bet you five silver you have to open the shop by yourself while he sits in the staff room and hurls into a bucket.”

“I don’t make bets I won’t win,” she replied, reaching under the bed and feeling for her work shoes. She smacked Edmur lightly with one of them as she found them and stood back up.

“Hey, I’m going to be back a little later today. Going to have a look round for any free rooms after work.” Edmur gave her a thumbs up, but didn’t move. “Could you save me some dinner?”

“Please don’t talk about food yet. I think I need that bucket.”

Thankfully, it was cloudy but rain free that morning, and the cool air was soothing on Kara’s face as she walked over to the shop. As she arrived and looked through the door, she could see Yenril at the till, bent over and resting his head on his arms. Aspen was sat by his feet, leaning against him. Kara tapped lightly on the window, and he started upright, jolting Aspen. Yenril was so pale he was almost grey. Aspen somehow had a decidedly green tint to her red skin.

He staggered over to the door to let her in, leaning heavily on the frame. Behind him, Aspen just lay slowly down on the floor.

“You look like shit,” she said bluntly.

“How do you not?” he groaned back.

“I know how to pace myself,” she laughed. “I’m guessing I’m in charge today?”

Yenril looked at Aspen, flat on her back, as she let out a very long sigh.

“We will be in the staffroom with buckets,” he said. “If you need us, come and get us. Ninthday isn’t usually too busy.”

Yenril was right on that front. With the Academy and University class free on ninth- and tenthday, the shop had very few customers, save for a few locals collecting orders and the occasional tourist. Kara even found the time to pick out a few books of her own to read when nobody was in. She was absentmindedly thumbing through Beginner Bardic Inspiration when the brass bell above the door rang.

She looked up, quickly closing the book, to see a very tired looking Gale Dekarios. For a second, she couldn’t place why he looked so different, before she realised he wasn’t in his customary teaching robes. Instead, under his cloak, he was wearing a comfortable looking knitted purple jumper and loose black trousers.

“Hey, Professor,” she said with a smirk, ducking behind the till to look through the collections box. “How was the rest of your teacher-student bonding experience?” She searched through the packages, but she couldn’t see any with his name on. She straightened up to see him rifling through his satchel that was apparently surgically attached to his shoulder.

“Hideous, thanks,” he said, completely oblivious to what she’d been doing, digging into the bag. “Quinn managed to persuade the bartender to sell us the bottle of whatever awful whiskey they were serving. And then they all shouted their favourite lyrics of Ballad of the Blackstaff at me until I would do shots.”

“You’re welcome,” Kara said smugly, folding her arms and resting them on the counter. Gale chuckled ruefully, still looking for whatever it was he was on the hunt for. He had very intense eyes, she noticed. She’d thought they were just brown, but in the bright light of the shop she could see they were almost ringed with grey, and there were tiny flecks of something close to gold.

“Ah, here we go,” he said, pulling a book out from under the reams of paper in his bag. “As promised.” He laid her copy of Wilder Magic down on the counter. “Sorry, I finished it a few days ago, but the first tenday of term is always chaotic.”

“Gale, you did not just come in to give this back,” she laughed.

“No, I also came by to take back my apology and let you know you are never, ever welcome in the halls of the University of Waterdeep or Blackstaff Tower,” he said with a grin. “I have a pile of marking to get through anyway, I’m usually more productive at my office than I am at home.”

“Well, now you’ve said I’m not allowed anywhere near, I’ll obviously be planning my imminent heist,” she teased. “I bet Quinn would be a willing accomplice.”

“Quinn is not allowed within a hundred feet of you,” Gale said, perhaps a little too quickly. The panicked look on his face only made her laugh harder.

“But she seemed like so much fun.”

“I can assure you she is not. She is mean. And very boring. Not pleasant company at all. Now please never ask about her again.”

“You know you’re just making me want to hang out with her more.”

Gale rolled his eyes, before looking at the clock over Kara’s shouder.

“I should probably take my leave,” he said, and Kara was positive he almost sounded disappointed. “This coursework sadly won’t mark itself. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

As he turned to leave, Kara had a very impulsive thought.

“Hey, you’re a Waterdeep local, right?”

Gale paused.

“Born and raised. Do I want to know why?”

“Would you mind meeting me at the Markets after my shift? I told Edmur I’d go house hunting but I’m not really sure where to start, and he was in no state to help today.”

Gale was staring at her, eyes wide. She suddenly felt very self conscious.

“You don’t have to,” she added quickly. “I just got enough money from the gig last night to start looking, and I don’t have that many friends here, and the friends I do have all want to spend today with their heads in a bucket.”

“I’ll be marking until six hours,” he said slowly.

“Me too. I mean, I’m working until then. And then I’m free.”

Get it together, Kara, she thought to herself. You’re only asking him for the world’s most boring favour. But his stupid gold flecked eyes creased at the corners as he smiled at her and agreed on a meeting spot, and for some even more stupid reason her heart was pounding so hard she was sure he could hear it.

As he left the shop, Kara watched to make sure he was out of sight, then grabbed Wilder Magic out from under the counter. As she expected, Gale had been especially careful with it, and it still looked brand new. He’d left a plain purple bookmark tucked neatly about two thirds of the way through. Kara turned to where he’d marked and skimmed over the page. She laughed out loud. He had accidentally left the bookmark at an incredibly graphic scene where Khalsa was making very novel use of Dominate Person on Panorin. He was going to be mortified.

She carefully slipped the bookmark out of place and into the front cover. Teasing him was all well and good, but she didn’t want to actually upset him. She liked how easy conversation was with him. He was whip smart, but he never seemed to look down on her, even when he thought she was just a bookshop assistant. He would be a nice friend to have.

After Gale, the only other customer was a tourist who bought a few guidebooks, and Kara was able to run through the closing checklist right on time at six hours without any issues. Yenril dragged himself out of the staff room long enough to check the accounts and give the shop a once over before he locked up until the next firstday. He gave her an approving nod.

“Enjoy your tenthday off,” he said. “We are going to spend it with all the shutters closed trying not to die.”

Kara headed to the staffroom to pick up her bag and cloak. Aspen was slumped on one of the armchairs, staring at the wall.

“How long have you been sitting there?” Kara asked her, swinging the strap of her bag over her shoulder.

Aspen just grunted at her in response. She patted the tiefling’s shoulder in sympathy, before heading out the door to the Markets.

Chapter Text

This was not a date, Gale told himself firmly, as he stood at the Northern Gate of the Markets, rubbing at the back of his neck. Kara was relatively new to the city, she needed some help, he was a local and could offer it. That was it. He should stop reading so much into things. She was a smart, talented young woman, and he was a divorced idiot with a decade on her. She had more in common with bloody Daeris than him.

He liked who he was when they talked, though.

He spotted her before she saw him, crossing the road, minding for the carriages and carts that thundered past. He was still a little in awe at how put together she looked, considering how drunk her table had been when he’d left. He hadn’t seen her in a dress before, or with her hair styled in two long braids that swung happily behind her. When he’d walked up to the bookshop, and seen her through the window, he’d almost entirely lost his nerve and turned back round again, but she’d been so deeply engrossed in her book that somehow it had given him the courage to go in. He hadn’t quite been able to look at her at first, making a show of digging through his bag. By the time he could bring himself to be a normal human being again, she’d gotten him talking, she’d gotten him joking with her, and suddenly it was the easiest thing in the world to just…be.

It was a distractingly tight dress, though. There was something really rather beguiling about the way she’d styled it with a billowing white blouse underneath. He had just begun to think about how his arm would feel around her waist when she caught his eye and waved merrily at him, quickening her pace to meet with him faster.

“Thank you so much for this,” she said, bobbing up slightly on her toes to kiss his cheek. He managed to get his thoughts together enough to return the greeting. “Did you want to grab some food first? I promise I won’t use your robes as a plate this time.”

“How incredibly thoughtful of you,” he said, and he made her laugh yet again. The food stalls had a few picnic style benches and tables, and they sat opposite each other, Kara running her eyes over the vendors surrounding them.

“How do you feel about Chessentan food?” she asked, spotting the trader a few stalls away from them.

“It’s my favourite,” Gale said sincerely. “My mother’s side of the family are from Chessenta. That stall is the only place I’ve ever found that rivals her cooking.”

“High praise, indeed. You’re close?”

Gale nodded. “Morena Dekarios is rather a force of nature, but I wouldn’t trade her for the world. She’s Waterdhavian too, she lives up in the North Wards. Neither of us were ever quite able to tear ourselves away from this place. How about you?”

Kara pressed her lips together.

“I don’t speak to my mother.” Gale cursed inwardly, and it must have shown on his face. “No, it’s okay, you didn’t know. I just don’t like to talk about it.”

“You’re close with your brother, if you’d permit me to very quickly change the subject?” he offered. Her face lit up.

“Now him I will happily talk about. Just give me a minute,” and she disappeared off to the Chessentan trader before he could stop her, returning almost immediately with two cartons of moussaka. “Did you get to meet Edmur yesterday?”

“Sadly not. I was too busy being mercilessly harassed by my students and a tavern bard.” She sat down next to him instead of opposite, giving him a playful shove with her shoulder. Her leg was resting lightly against his. “I saw him with Yenril, though.”

“That tavern bard sounds awful,” she said, laughing. “Tell me where to find her and I’ll beat her up for you.”

“I would be tremendously grateful if you would,” he replied, breaking up his moussaka with his wooden fork. “I don’t know if you know this, but wizards aren’t exactly known for being martially adept.”

“Right, as opposed to bards, who are famously incredibly buff.”

“You clearly haven’t read Hex Appeal yet.”

She snorted, taking a bite of moussaka. “Aspen’s smut club is getting quite the recommended reading list out of you.”

The moussaka possibly tasted even better than his mother’s, though Gale wasn’t sure if that was down to the cook or the company he was keeping. They both made very slow progress through their dinners, bantering backwards and forwards, occasionally remembering to eat. As they finally finished their meals, Gale pushed the cartons to one side and reached down to his feet, pulling a small map of Waterdeep from his satchel and laying it out on the table.

“Now, I believe this meeting was supposed to be about me helping you navigate our delightfully complicated city.” He smoothed out the creases.

“Of course you just have a map in that satchel,” Kara said, resting a hand on his arm and leaning forward to study it for herself. She smelled like vanilla.

“The department keeps some on hand in the first few weeks for new students to orient themselves,” he retorted, and she grinned at him. “We’re here,” and he pointed to the Markets on the map.

“I can see that from where it says Markets, Gale. I work in a bookshop, I can read.”

This time, he gave her a gentle push with his elbow. He noted she’d never let go of that arm.

“This part here,” and he circled one of the wards with his finger, conjuring black ink over the map easily, “is the Sea Ward. A lot of the University undergraduate students rent here, so there’s plenty of cheap rooms, but they aren’t always the best kept. And you’d be sharing with probably five or six other people. Over here,” and he circled a different part of the map in blue under the Market, “is the Castle Ward. I know a few people who are based in this part of town. Rooms are a little more difficult to come by, but it tends to be more postgraduates or tradesfolk, so I’d recommend starting there. Those two wards are going to be your best bets. Most people advertise on the trading posts here,” and he marked a few spots with red crosses where he remembered seeing them. She lifted her hand from his arm and ran her fingers thoughtfully over the map, careful not to smudge the ink.

“It’s a nice enough evening,” he said, hoping to keep her company for just a little bit longer. “And we’re not far from the first trading post, if you would like to walk with me.”

“Are you sure?” she asked him. “I don’t want to keep you.”

Gale thought of his tower, empty and dark, and nobody but his cat for company anymore. He sent a quick Sending spell to the feeder he’d rigged for overtime at the University.

“Positive,” he replied, standing up from the bench and holding out a hand to her to help her stand. He felt a little spark run up his arm as she took it.

Chapter Text

Kara really wished Gale would slow down.

The Markets were busier than she’d expect for evening on a ninthday, and Gale’s legs were longer than hers. She kept having to break into a little run every other minute to keep up with him. He didn’t notice, of course, too busy telling her about the rich history of the Markets as he strode ahead. It was very interesting, of course, but she would appreciate it more if he would slow down so she could actually hear him.

They made their way through a particularly busy crossing point between stalls, and she almost lost sight of him entirely. She pushed past as best she could, as she saw Gale up ahead looking to his side and finding her missing. She snorted a little at the panicked expression on his face. He caught her eye as she managed to get through the crowds and stood to one side to wait for her.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” she said, catching up to him, “but I’m a little more vertically challenged than you. Do you have to walk everywhere like you’re on some sort of mission?”

“My sincerest apologies, my lady,” he said, giving her a little half bow. “I will be sure to match your pitiful stride.”

“How dare you!” she laughed at him, as they began to walk together again. He held out an arm for her to take as the crowds threatened to separate them, and she took it gratefully. Her hand rested lightly on his forearm. Now, she could actually listen to him as he excitedly pointed out The Great Drunkard ahead of them, a gigantic statue of a sleeping man, arms limp by his side and head slumped forward. He launched into another historical lecture, this time on the history of the Walking Statues, and Kara could see why he had taken so well to teaching. He loved imparting knowledge, and he seemed to have an ocean of it in that head of his.

The trading post stood outside the doors of Gralkyn’s Tavern, which sat in the lap of the statue. Kara had to watch for carriages on the road as Gale talked, clearly revelling in having a captive audience who didn’t already know the history of Waterdeep or didn’t care to listen.

“And then of course, The Griffon appeared to defend Ahghairon’s Tower – oh, we’re here,” he said in surprise, realising they were now stood in the shadow of the Drunkard.

“You’ll have to save the rest for another time, Professor,” she said, squeezing his arm with hers before letting it drop. She looked over the scraps of parchment pinned to the board, searching for any rooms that were within budget. She looked at Gale.

“What’s the etiquette on these?” she asked, gesturing to a few listings.

“If you see one you like, head there and ask to look round, then make an offer. If they accept, you come back and take down the posting parchment. If not, onto the next.”

She groaned a little at the prospect of traipsing all round the Castle Ward.

“Maybe leave the rest for another day,” Gale suggested gently. “It’s probably a little late to start knocking on doors anyway. And you have a hangover to nurse.”

The sun had begun to set. They stood in front of the post, and Kara had the distinct impression Gale didn’t really want to leave any more than she did. But they were by a tavern, which was one of the classier establishments of Waterdeep from what she’d heard, and maybe he’d stay with her a little while longer. She swallowed.

“Did you want to –“ she said, just as he blurted out, “Would you like to –“

She laughed as he blushed. For a smart man, he really was very easily flustered.

“Did you want to get a drink with me?” she asked him, jerking her head towards the tavern. “I sort of want to know what happened with The Griffon. I promise I’ll ask for them to water down the wine.”

Gale looked a little shocked, but only for a moment, and he smiled the most genuine smile that Kara had ever seen him wear.

“I would love to,” he said. “Though when I’ve bored you to tears with the rest of the story, I will remind you that you asked for this.”

They headed up the stairs to the doors of the tavern, and Gale pushed one inwards, holding it open for her. She started to head to the bar, but he caught hold of her hand.

“Please, allow me,” he said, closing the door behind her. “I owe you for dinner.”

“Dinner was for helping me,” she said.

“In that case, it would appear it’s my turn to be of assistance to you again.”

The tavern was packed, but Gale spotted a small empty booth in the corner. He chivvied her over, pointedly watching her until she sat down, then took off his cloak and headed to the bar. He did look good in that jumper, she thought as she watched him leave. More relaxed. He rolled up his sleeves as he waited to catch the bartender’s attention, running a hand through his hair. His forearms were surprisingly toned, probably from turning all those pages, she thought to herself with a smirk.

He brought back two glasses of wine with so much water in them Kara wasn’t sure they could actually be classed as wine anymore, and slid into the seat next to her.

“So, the Griffon,” she prompted, as he handed her one of the glasses.

“The what?”

“What happened with the Griffon?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, taking a sip from his glass.

“Gale,” she laughed, as he tried his best not to grin at her.

It all felt so natural. Like she’d known this man for years, and not for less than a tenday. He finished his story about the Griffon’s defense of the tower and how it came to rest in the Dock Ward, and she’d realised that it was the inspiration for one of her favourite folk songs, and somehow that turned into her explaining the history of folk song, the lute and lyre, and oral tradition on the Sword Coast, which led to him reminiscing about the research one of his classmates had done on musical adaptations of verbal components. They were animatedly discussing how this may have influenced the songs of Storm Silverhand when Kara realised just how empty the bar had become.

“Shit, I should probably head back,” she said, looking for a clock on any of the walls and seeing it was almost midnight. “Edmur’s probably going spare.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Gale offered quickly.

“You don’t have to, Gale,” she said, hauling herself out of the booth. “It’s not far.”

“I would feel better if you let me,” he insisted. “Waterdeep isn’t the safest city at this time of night.”

Truth be told, Kara was hoping he would win the argument, so she shrugged her shoulders in defeat.

There was a fine mist in the air as they left the tavern, and she wished she’d brought her cloak with her, but she hadn’t thought she would be this late. She rubbed her hands over the sleeves of her shirt. Suddenly, she felt a heavy fabric around her shoulders, as Gale held out an arm, stretching out his cloak.

“Not feeling chivalrous enough to just give me this to wear, Dekarios?” she asked, putting an arm around his waist and holding the fabric over her head.

“Has that wine sent you mad, woman?” he said with a grin, resting his arm on her shoulders. “This is my best jumper.”

“Ah yes, your best jumper that I’m sure you only wear for special occasions.”

“Exactly.”

“Like marking papers.”

“No, I was also coming into the shop –“

She laughed hard as Gale swore quietly, realising she’d caught him out.

“I’m unbelievably honoured that seeing me warranted the special occasion jumper,” she cackled.

“How do you know it was for you?” he replied tartly, but she could see that wonderful grin of his fighting to escape. “I could have worn it for Yenril.”

“Aspen would crush you like a twig, Mister Martially Inept.” The mental image of Aspen beating the shit out of the poor man set her laughing so hard she couldn’t speak for a moment.

“Oh gods, you’re right,” he said in mock horror, as she held onto him to keep upright. “You’ll have to fight her for me too.”

She was steering them through the streets to her house, but she deliberately took the long way home, and though she was sure Gale knew, he didn’t say anything about it. As they walked up to her front door, Edmur’s drawing room light was still on, and she could see him through the window, fast asleep on the sofa with a book on his lap.

“I’d better go grovel,” she said, but she didn’t let go of Gale’s waist, even though they were covered by the porch above.

“Probably,” Gale said, but his arm was still around her shoulder.

She looked up at him, letting go of the cloak. It fell behind her, and his hood slipped off his hair, and the shifting air broke whatever reverie held them both. She quickly let go of his waist, as he snatched his arm away.

“Thank you for tonight,” she said, politely kissing him on the cheek.

“The pleasure was truly mine,” he replied, and for a glorious second he hesitated, but then he took a step back from the porch, pulling his cloak hood back over his head. “I’ll see you next tenday, I’m sure.”

“Have lunch with me on firstday,” she said before she could stop herself. “So we know for certain. I’ll meet you at the Tower steps at midday.” Hells, now she was just as flustered.

“As my lady commands,” he said, doing that stupid little half bow again, before quickly pulling the cloak round himself and retreating into the night. Kara smiled dreamily to herself as she watched him leave.

Tap tap tap.

She looked slowly behind her. Naivara had her face so close to the window by the front door that the glass was fogging up. She had a look of pure glee in her eyes as she opened the door for Kara.

“That’s Hot Academic, isn’t it?” she said, as Kara came in out of the rain. “The one who you dedicated the rudest song we both know to in the Siren?”

“I did not dedicate the song to him,” Kara protested in a whisper. “Don’t you dare wake up Edmur.”

“He was really hot,” Naivara said a little louder. Kara glared at her as she heard Edmur stir on the sofa. “Hells, Kara, why didn’t you kiss him properly? He clearly wanted you to.”

“Who’s Kara kissing?” she heard Edmur say blearily through the door.

“Nobody,” she said, getting very irritated with her sister in law. “I’m going to bed.”

“But I want details!” Naivara whined as Kara stomped up the stairs to her room.

Chapter Text

Gale was decidedly not paying attention to this meeting. He was too busy trying to justify to himself why he hadn’t kissed her. They were becoming friends. He barely knew her. She was too young. He was too old. She was too funny. He didn’t deserve someone like her.

It didn’t help that he hated the annual Blackstaff Academy Fundraiser and all of the accompanying faff and would take any excuse for a distraction. The cause was all well and good, raising funding for scholarships for promising apprentices who would otherwise be unable to attend. The fundraiser itself, though, was always a nightmare. Anyone who was anyone in Waterdeep would attend in the name of charity, which meant it was the perfect place to network and schmooze, both concepts that Gale despised. The past few years, Mystra had attended on his behalf. Last year, Vajra had excused him. This year, he had no excuses left.

Currently, the staff were finally deciding on a theme, a fierce debate over A Night in the Weave or a costume ball where everyone would dress as a famous figure in magical history. He had to admit a costume ball could be intriguing, even if at least four of the professors would probably come to blows over who got to dress as Elminster.

He snorted at the thought, and tried to pass it off as a sneeze as Vajra shot him a particularly dirty look.

“A costume ball, then,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him as she crossed off a line on their agenda. “Now, before we break for lunch, does anyone have any suggestions for the musical entertainment? Unfortunately I received the news this morning that our planned string quartet have come down with dragon pox. We’d need some sort of ensemble for the dances, and possibly a separate bard for entrance and background music between, as per the budget we previously discussed.”

“I know a lyrist,” Gale said quickly. It was the first thing he’d said all meeting. “She might have some leads on an ensemble.”

“How in the hells do you know a lyrist?” said Professor Talonrook, looking at Gale with interest.

“She’s a friend,” he said defensively, not quite able to look Talonrook in her eyes. “And very talented,” he said to Vajra, trying to keep his nerve.

“Have her come by the Academy tomorrow lunch for an audition if she can,” she said with disinterest, scribbling a note on the agenda. “We’ll reconvene then and finalise. Until then.”

She dismissed them with a wave of her hand, and Gale grabbed his satchel and left the room before he had to answer any more questions. Kara would be waiting for him on the steps of the Tower, and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

Sure enough, as he pushed through the throng of students by the doors, she waved at him from the street at the foot of the steps. He could hear some of his students muttering to each other as he met her. Some of the bolder ones started to follow him.

“Better run before they accost you,” he said quickly as he approached, and she nodded, forgoing her customary kiss hello to head towards the Markets. As they rounded the corner and put some distance behind them, he checked over his shoulder to make sure none of them could see, then bent to kiss her cheek. “Hi. Sorry. They’re a little feral.”

“Sounds like bad classroom management to me,” she said, as she kissed his in return. He put a hand to his chest in mock indignation.

“Of all the insults,” he sighed dramatically. “And to think I had an honest to gods performance opportunity for you. Well paid, too. I suppose you’ll never know.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re lying.”

“Vajra’s looking for entertainment for the annual fundraiser next eighthday after the string quartet dropped out. Lots of Waterdeep well to do, very fancy. I may have mentioned I happen to know a very talented lyrist, who’d probably be a shoo in if she’d be willing to come in for an audition tomorrow and give us some ensemble recommendations.”

Kara’s eyes went as wide as dinner plates.

“You’re not fucking with me?” she said, bouncing up and down a little on her heels. “And you said it’s paid?”

“The budget is ridiculous.”

Kara squealed, actually squealed, and threw her arms around his neck.

“I was supposed to just owe you for the drinks!” she said, kissing him hard on the cheek, and Gale’s face immediately flushed. “You have to let me buy you lunch today.”

“I know what they’re paying you,” he said, as she let go of him and resumed her odd little bouncing. “You’re buying me lunch for the next month.”

“What time does Blackstaff Safahr need me tomorrow? I’ll sort my break with Yenril today. What kind of music do you need? Traditional ball dances? Gale, I can’t believe you.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. She was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Twelve hours, and it’s a magical history themed costumed ball,” he told her, as they reached the Markets. “So very traditional, I’d imagine.”

“Oh my gods, I bet you nerds are all going to go as Elminster Aumar,” she said breathlessly, and he snorted again. “I know exactly who you should ask. There’s an amazing quintet who played a wedding Edmur and I went to at the Cynosure about a month ago. Their violist shops at the apothecary’s all the time. I’ll get in touch with them to see if they’re free.”

They browsed through the stalls for a few minutes before settling on Amnian food, and found a bench, Kara sitting next to Gale again.

“Did Blackstaff Safahr say if she wanted anything in particular prepared for tomorrow?” she asked, twirling her pasta around her fork.

“She didn’t, and if you audition with Ballad of the Blackstaff I will personally throw you off the top of the Tower.” She smirked at him as she took a huge bite of pasta. “How did room hunting go yesterday?”

“Well! I took Edmur with me for backup. Found a house share with three girls looking to replace someone moving to Neverwinter for work, I’ll be moving there at the end of the month. Today is the best day ever,” she said, missing her mouth with her fork by accident.

He felt something in his chest do a little flip. She had left a tiny spot of cream sauce at the corner of her lip, and he suddenly had the very impulsive urge to kiss it from her. He must have been staring a little too intently, because she frowned at him.

“You have, um, sauce,” he said, gesturing. She wiped at it with her index finger and inspected it, before putting her finger in her mouth and savouring the taste.

“Thanks,” she said, as Gale shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat.

“Professor!” he heard a familiar voice shout from a few stalls away, and he groaned. Quinn was barrelling towards them, flatbread in hand. Kara beamed as Quinn plonked herself down opposite them both.

“Good to see you, Quinn,” she said, laying down her fork. “How’s the doctorate going?”

“It goes,” Quinn said, looking between her and Gale with a glint in her eye. Gale suddenly realised just how close he was sat to Kara, but if he moved, Quinn would almost certainly bring it up, so he remained rather stiffly in place. “I’m not interrupting something, am I?”

“We’re just discussing Kara’s audition for the Blackstaff Fundraiser,” Gale said quickly. “Hopefully she’ll be providing some of the musical entertainment.”

Quinn’s face lit up, and Gale really didn’t like not knowing why.

“Can I put in my requests now?” she asked Kara excitedly.

“Gale’s already put the kibosh on Ballad,” Kara replied, and Quinn sighed dramatically. “Besides, I thought this was an Academy event?”

“I was a scholarship kid when I was there. Daeris and I have been asked to attend so the faculty can show us off now that we’re promising doctorate candidates. Makes them look great.”

“You were on a fundraiser scholarship?” Gale said in surprise. “How come I didn’t know this?”

“You only taught me at Blackstaff for a year, Gale. And I didn’t really advertise it. Bad enough I was the halfling kid, I didn’t want to be the halfling on a handout.” She scoffed. “I was thinking of making my excuses and skipping it, but if Kara’s there I’m definitely going.”

As Kara and Quinn fell into excited conversation about themes and costumes, Gale thought to himself that they would make excellent friends, even if that prospect filled him with dread. Quinn loved to push all of his buttons, but she was also fiercely loyal. He’d heard from other faculty members at the University that she had gotten into more than a few arguments with other students when rumours about his failing marriage had started to spread. She was one of the reasons he’d even stayed at the University in the first place. She also kept his feet firmly on solid ground whenever his ego got the better of him. Kara shared her quick wit, though Quinn’s often veered into acerbic, and he sometimes suspected Kara was gentler with him than she might be with other people. Even if she had teased him in front of an entire tavern audience.

He was still pondering this when he realised both women were looking at him expectantly.

“Sorry, I was thinking about, um, research projects,” he said, poking at his lunch with his fork. “Say that again?”

“You aren’t working on any research projects,” Quinn said bluntly. “In fact, you were literally telling me three days ago specifically how the department asked you to propose some.”

Kara had a very amused look on her face, but thankfully stayed silent.

“That’s what I was thinking about,” Gale said lamely. “What was the question?”

“What are you going to wear? Kara’s being boring and keeping it a surprise.”

“That is not what I said,” Kara laughed. “I said I wasn’t going to think about it until I officially get the job.”

Gale hadn’t even begun to think about a costume, he was so preoccupied with telling Kara the good news. Rather annoyingly, and just as Kara had predicted, the only costume he could think of was Elminster.

“I’m open to suggestions,” he said in defeat.

Chapter Text

Kara stood in the hallway outside Gale’s lecture hall, nervously fiddling with the strap of her lyre case for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. She had dressed in what she called her audition uniform, a smart buttoned blouse with a scalloped collar and a black full length skirt. Naivara had braided her hair into a complicated crown, and she tried her best not to fiddle with it.

She heard the bells toll twelve above her, and gently knocked on the door before pushing it open.

Someone had cleared a space at the front of the classroom, a sole chair stood in the centre of the space. Vajra Safahr was sat with two mages she didn’t recognise behind a trestle table a comfortable distance back. With how Gale had described her, she was expecting her to be at least six feet tall, but even sat down Kara doubted she even reached five. She had angular features and beautiful olive skin, a pair of spectacles perched delicately on top of her head. Her robes were a plain, dark blue, but the fabric looked rich, and no doubt very expensive. Behind her, there were at least ten other members of the faculty dotted around, sat behind desks. Gale was sat a few rows from the front, and he caught her eye, giving her a quick smile.

“Good afternoon, Miss Nilur,” Blackstaff Safahr said, pulling her glasses down to rest on her nose and looking at Kara through them. “Our thanks for agreeing to meet with us at such short notice.”

“And mine for granting me this opportunity,” Kara replied politely, taking the seat in the centre of the room and carefully laying her case across her lap, flicking open the catches. “I’ve prepared a few standards from the classical canon for your consideration, unless you have any questions for me?”

“How do you know Gale?” an elderly Dragonborn piped up from the back of the classroom. Kara tried not to giggle as she heard Gale sigh exasperatedly.

“Talonrook,” the Blackstaff admonished her sharply. “Apologies. What have you prepared?”

Kara had spent most of the previous evening throwing sheet music around her bedroom, and after a good few hours had settled on the first and second movements of the third Lliirian Suite, alongside her own arrangement of Storm Silverhand’s Lullaby for My Mother. She saw Safahr’s eyebrow twitch approvingly as she asked to hear the Silverhand ballad.

Kara lifted out her lyre from its case, placing it on the floor next to her. She held the lyre in position and began to play.

It was funny. She had first picked up a lyre when she was five years old, dragging her father by the hand round a travelling circus outside of Baldur’s Gate and begging him to buy it for her from a stall of children’s instruments. It was terribly made, but she wouldn’t put it down except to sleep and to bathe. Her parents had finally agreed to lessons, and the world had suddenly made sense. All these years later, running her hands over the strings as smooth as though they were silk, she could still feel that wonder. Knowing she was the one making the music. Her heart swelled as she reached the ballad’s bridge, feeling a stirring of a connection like she always did. Storm Silverhand had poured her soul into her song, and centuries later, Kara had the privilege of sharing it.

She stole a glance at her audience. The Blackstaff was writing something on her papers as her colleagues whispered to each other. Some of the other staff were writing their own notes. Professor Talonrook appeared to have been lulled to sleep.

Gale was leaning on one hand, elbow on the desk in front of him. He was staring straight at her hands, intently studying them like she was one of his research projects. He seemed to be mouthing the words along to the music. His eyes were almost sparkling with adoration. They flicked up to look at her face, but the expression didn’t change, and she quickly looked back down at her hands.

The ballad came to its quiet close, the last strummed chord hanging in the air like a whispered prayer. For a moment, nobody spoke.

“Thank you, Miss Nilur,” Blackstaff Safahr said, after what felt like an age. “That will be more than sufficient for our needs today.”

She turned and murmured a few words to her colleagues at the table.

“We are able to offer you payment of one hundred gold pieces, in return for an hour of music as our guests arrive, a half hour between dances, and a quarter hour as our guests leave. Gale tells me you have a quintet you can recommend to us?”

Kara nodded. “I’ve been in contact with Patrick Greythorn, their violist. They have the evening available and are keeping it as such until you can confirm.”

“Excellent. I’d be happy to proceed based on your good word, especially given the time pressure we’re under. Have Patrick contact my office to make the arrangements.”

She stood up and held out her hand. Kara quickly stood, leaving her lyre on the chair and walking to her to shake it.

“A pleasure, Miss Nilur.”

“Likewise, Blackstaff Safahr. Please let me know if you or the faculty have any requests ahead of time.”

She heard Gale cough pointedly as the staff began to file out of the lecture hall. Professor Talonrook tried to hang back, but one of the other mages shooed him away and into the corridor.

“Professor Dekarios can escort you out,” the Blackstaff said as she left. “Professor, thank you for your recommendation. You won’t be required for the rest of the meeting.” As she closed the door behind her, Kara thought she saw the shadow of a smile pass over her face.

She waited until she was sure the Blackstaff wouldn’t be able to hear her anymore, then she couldn’t contain herself any longer. Gale laughed as she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, squeaking with excitement.

“Holy shit, Gale, thank you,” she said breathlessly, letting him go and grabbing his arms. “You have no idea how big a job this is.”

“That was incredible,” he said, his hands coming up to hold her elbows. “Kara, I’ve never heard the lullaby played like that. It was like she was singing it to me herself. How in the hells did you learn such a skill? The work you must have put in, truly, I can’t even begin to fathom it.”

Kara was used to having people compliment her playing, but to her recollection, nobody had ever actually acknowledged just how hard she had had to study to reach this point. People assumed it all came naturally to her. They didn’t see the years she spent practicing, chasing an ambition that was often dismissed. To have someone who had dedicated his life to the study of magic, who understood what it meant to have talent but to constantly strive to have that mean more than his natural abilities, recognise that she had worked just as hard was humbling. She didn’t know what to say.

She let go of one of his arms to nervously tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. He quickly let go of her other arm and mirrored the gesture, laughing awkwardly.

“Sorry,” he said. “That was probably too odd of a compliment.”

“It wasn’t,” she replied quickly. “It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about my playing.”

His cheeks flushed crimson, and seeing him flustered made her feel better.

“You’ll have a whole hour of it to compliment me on soon,” she said, turning to make sure her case was properly latched before picking it up and looping the strap over her arm. He held the door open for her as they left the classroom.

“I’ll have to think of some better compliments then,” he said, politely offering his arm as children ran past on the stairs, barely watching where they were going. “Perkins! No casting in the halls!” he barked at a gangly teenager, who was a little further ahead of them, holding a blue flame in his hands as two girls giggled.

Kara took it, shifting her lyre over to her other side. “Why do I feel like this happens to Perkins a lot?” she said with a laugh, as the boy tried to put out the fire and somehow set light to the sleeve of his robes, which one of the girls put out with a swift wave of her own hand.

Gale grimaced. “The day Timothy graduates is the day I can finally relax.”

As they reached the bottom of the Tower, Gale let go of her arm to open the front doors, and she missed the warmth of it immediately as the cold air outside hit her cheeks.

“I’ll see you at the ball, my lady?” he said quietly, head tilted so his students wouldn’t catch him in his daft bow.

“Save me a dance, my lord,” she replied with a smirk, and instead of copying his subtlety, she curtsied deeply. He sighed, a ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, as she saw a group of younger children burst into giggles behind him.

Chapter Text

The next few days passed without much fanfare, and thankfully, was blissfully free of any major student mishaps. When Gale got back to his office after his final afternoon of lectures with the university undergraduates before his day off for the fundraiser, Daeris was leant on the wall by his door, nervously biting his nails. Gale had never seen the tiefling look so worried in the four years he’d been his advisor.

“Are you alright, Daeris?” he asked, unlocking the door and gesturing for him to come in. Daeris sat in the wingback chair by Gale’s desk, but he was sitting unnaturally upright, hands balled into fists on his lap. “I don’t have you scheduled to see me until next tenday.”

“Oh, yes, the thesis is fine, sir,” he said, rubbing his hands in a way that made Gale tense for him.

“Daeris, you threw a cocktail cherry at my head when I wouldn’t match you drink for drink at the Siren. I think you’re fine to call me Gale now.”

Daeris laughed a little too loudly. Gale sighed and sat in his desk chair, waiting for him to gather whatever courage he seemed to need.

“Sir – Gale. You know how the Blackstaff ball is tomorrow?”

“Acutely aware,” Gale said with a grimace. Vajra had ramped up preparations all that tenday, calling the staff in for meetings practically every lunchtime to prepare. He’d managed to see Kara for a few minutes the day before when collecting book orders, but he sorely missed their lunches together. He had been made to take tomorrow off so he could help to decorate the Cynosure, and his back already hurt just thinking about it.

“Are we allowed to invite a date?”

“I think the invitation extends to a plus one, yes. From what I remember you just need to inform the committee by tomorrow morning so they can announce them on arrival.” Gale smiled warmly at him as Daeris relaxed, but only slightly, and he clearly still had more to ask. “Anyone in particular? Another student here?”

“Um, no.” Daeris wrung his hands again. “I was actually going to ask your friend Kara. I came to ask you if you knew what time she finished work today.”

Gale’s eye twitched as he tried to keep his smile in place.

“I’m afraid she’s performing at the event, Daeris,” he said, and he tried to sound kind, but it came across as more than a little bit smug. “You can always ask her to dance during her break instead.”

After she’s danced with me, he thought, very pettily.

He was being unfair. Kara was about Daeris’ age. She would probably find him interesting, enjoy being seen with him around the city. Maybe she wouldn’t laugh at his jokes quite as hard. Maybe she wouldn’t touch her hand lightly on his shoulder every time she kissed his cheek. Maybe she wouldn’t rest her leg just that little bit longer against his every time they shared lunch at the market. But it would make sense. A promising young wizard about to break out into the world, instead of a divorced, failed prodigy who had fallen into a rut.

“She finishes in about half an hour,” he said heavily. “I’m sure she’d be delighted to have you accompany her there, at least.”

The tiefling finally stopped wringing his hands to stand up, and began to fiddle with his shirt collar instead.

“Thanks, prof – Gale,” he corrected himself again, as Gale waved a hand at him to dismiss him. He headed out of the door, and Gale buried his head in his hands and groaned. He heard a soft ahem, and looked up to see Quinn standing in the open doorway, arms crossed.

“Why do none of you stick to your appointments anymore?” he grumbled at her, as she came into the office and shut the door behind her.

“What in the sweet hells are you playing at?” she asked him angrily, hopping into the wingback chair and giving him a glare that would rival a spectator’s.

“Were you eavesdropping?” he asked her suspiciously, opening the top drawer of his desk and pulling out the undergraduate essays he needed to mark. Quinn slammed a hand on the papers and snatched them away from Gale. “Quinn, I’m trying to work!”

“Why did I just hear you telling Daeris to ask out Kara?” she said, quickly holding the papers behind her as Gale ineffectually tried to grab them back. “Have you actually lost your mind?”

“Quinn, I am not discussing this with you. Give the papers back or I’ll tell the committee to pull your funding.”

“Try it,” she said, stubbornly dropping them on the floor. Gale pinched his nose in frustration. The undergraduates never numbered their pages. It was going to take forever to tidy. “I saw the way you two were looking at each other at the Markets on firstday. You clearly like her.”

“She’s just my friend,” Gale insisted. “She doesn’t think of me in that way.”

“Nobody dedicates the Ballad of the Blackstaff to someone they just want to be friends with, Gale,” she snapped back. “Or stays out until midnight drinking watered down wine and comparing notes on fucking verbal components.”

“I really do tell you too much,” Gale tried to joke, but Quinn gave him such a dirty look that his voice petered out by the end of the sentence. “Look, Quinn, I’m not going to deny that she’s an amazing girl, but I’m at least ten years older than her with very little to offer. I highly doubt she thinks of me the way I think of her.”

Quinn’s expression softened, and somehow that was worse.

“Gale, that’s ridiculous,” she said, climbing down from the wingback and beginning to gather the essays into a pile. “You have plenty to offer her. And you deserve that happiness as much as the next person.” She put the rather haphazard pile back on his desk and began to try and reorganise them into their correct essays.

“He’s gone to ask her anyway,” Gale said, as Quinn handed him the first essay she’d managed to piece together.

“She’s going to turn him down,” Quinn said, and her confidence made Gale’s heart beat ever so slightly faster. “I’m telling you, she won’t have even known it was possible to ask you, but she definitely would. She was staring at you at the Markets like you were made of that pasta she was scoffing.”

Gale had to laugh.

“Was she really?” he said thoughtfully, sifting through the essays until he found a few sheets with matching handwriting, and, mercifully, numbered pages.

“Helm’s tits, you are so fucking oblivious sometimes.”

They sorted through the rest of the papers in silence, finally managing to match the essays and folding the corners over to ensure they couldn’t be separated again. Gale sighed as he gave each of them a precursory glance. The quality varied wildly, to say the least.

“Why are they like this?” he asked Quinn, showing her one paper that appeared to have red wine spilled right across the first page.

“Do you want help marking?” she said with a grin. “If I’m going to beat your record as the youngest doctorate advisor hired here, I might as well get a head start.”

Gale grumbled a little, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Chapter Text

Kara had just left the shop and was about to begin her walk home when she heard someone calling her name.

A young tiefling man was waving frantically at her from down the street, half walking, half running to catch up to her. He looked oddly familiar, but for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out from where. He gasped for breath as he made it to the shop, bent over double and wheezing.

“Daeris – met – other tenday –“

Kara had a mental flash of the same tiefling staring dopily at her from across the table at the Smiling Siren.

“Oh! Yes, you’re one of Gale’s students,” she said warmly. “Sorry, we only met briefly. Is everything ok? Did you need something from the shop?” She turned to knock on the door. “We’ve just closed, but I can probably twist Yenril’s arm if it’s urgent.”

“Um, no,” Daeris said, managing to stand up and gulp down enough of the evening air to consider full sentences. “Profes – Gale mentioned you were playing at the Academy ball tomorrow. I, um, would very much like it if I could, er, accompany you. As your date. For the evening. When you aren’t working.”

Kara was very rarely rendered speechless, and somehow it had happened twice in one tenday. She was absolutely terrible at telling people no. He seemed nice enough, but she knew nothing about him. Truth be told, from the little she did know about him from Gale and Quinn, she didn’t think she’d have a particularly fun time. Daeris was apparently a bit of a wet blanket and was completely incapable of taking a joke, though it was Quinn that had said that, so she took that opinion with a pinch of salt. He was looking at her with a hopeful look on his face that was rapidly dwindling, though, and she had to tell him something.

“Daeris, that’s very sweet of you, but I’m afraid I already have a date.” Better just to lie. Gale would probably kill her if she upset one of his students. She had technically been asked to go to the ball by Gale, and she had made him promise to dance with her, so in a way, it was sort of the truth, if you squinted really hard. She should probably tell Gale about this before Daeris did.

“Oh. Yes. Of course. Um. How lovely. I’ll see you there then.” And Daeris left as quickly as he arrived. Kara chewed on her bottom lip as he disappeared around the corner.

She’d try and catch Gale when she arrived to set up, she thought, as she walked back to Edmur’s. He probably wouldn’t mind being her date. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to ask him first, she very much did, but she wasn’t sure if he was just indulging some silly fantasy of hers or if he felt the same way. So if she asked him and he declined, which he very well might, because she was a two bit tavern bard slash shop assistant and he was one of the most eminent mages of Waterdeep, she could just play it off as a way to avoid hurting Daeris’ feelings. A perfect plan. Not completely and utterly insane.

She let herself into Edmur’s house, kicking off her shoes by the door and slumping on the sofa with a sigh. The house was oddly quiet. She spotted a piece of parchment on the coffee table, Edmur’s awful handwriting scrawled across.

Know you’ve probably forgotten but we’re going to Naivara’s parents in Red Larch while she can still travel. Will be back in a few days. Feel free to invite over Hot Academic while we’re out. Don’t do anything we wouldn’t.

Gods, but sometimes she hated her brother. At least she’d be able to get ready in peace.

She dragged herself off the sofa and headed up to her room, settling on her bed to finally read her book without someone interrupting her every five minutes.

Gale hadn’t been joking: In the Eyes of the Beholder was, so far, complete and utter filth. Bianca Brooks had clearly given up on a plot by page seven. Apparently, it was the prequel to Loveforged, but for the most part it just tried to see how many times two people could simultaneously orgasm. Personally, Kara had preferred Loveforged. At least Adriana had been vaguely autonomous in that one, travelling the planes to become a master blacksmith with her sweet but incredibly dumb bodyguard. Currently, though, their travels were limited to the Underdark, on a quest to discover a new material to ‘forge the ultimate weapon’, which Kara suspected was going to be some sort of elaborate sex toy as a twist. Bianca Brooks seemed to forget they were in the Underdark half the time, except to comment on the ‘strange otherworldly lights dancing in the sweat of Kam’s brow.’

She did have to hand it to the author, though. Kara could not put it down when they really got going.

She opened the book to where she’d left off, marked by the purple bookmark she really should give back to its owner when she had a chance. Adriana and Kam had found a mysterious abandoned house nestled under a beautiful sussur tree, and were having to rediscover the wonders of mortal lovemaking with no magical enhancements.

She pulled her blankets over her legs as she read. Kam had pinned Adriana with her arms above her head against the wall with one hand, and was on his knees in front of her, other hand slowly unlacing her trousers as she desperately tried to kiss him.

She wondered if Gale was stronger than her.

No, she did not wonder that.

She would be the one pinning his arms above his head. She would be the one nipping at his neck as her other hand gently slid down his bare chest, listening to him gasp her name quietly in her ear as she hooked a finger into the waistband of his trousers and pulled his hips towards her, feel him harden against her –

Stop it.

She’d lost her place. Somehow Adriana was already lifted onto Kam’s shoulders as he devoured her sex hungrily as though she was his first meal.

She flicked back a page. Hands above her head, slowly unlacing her trousers. Actually, maybe if Kara was lying down instead of pinned against a wall, he’d be able to hold her hands above her head as a finger slipped easily inside her. She would gasp, and he would stop her mouth with a kiss, tasting of desperation to have more.

She closed the book and took a shaky breath. Adriana and Kam, she chided herself. You’re reading about Adriana and Kam.

Kam was holding Adriana firm, curling his finger slowly but deliberately against her walls, drawing pleas from her. Making her beg for more.

Gale didn’t seem like the sort to make someone beg. If anything, he would hold her as if she was glass, smoothing her hair back as he lay over her, asking how she liked to be touched. What felt good, what he could do to make her feel good.

Kara closed her eyes. One hand let go of the book.

He would kiss her neck as his hand would smooth over her stomach before pausing, looking deep into her eyes.

The hand somehow found its way under her blankets.

She would nod, and he would finally run a finger over her folds, aching for his touch. He would draw gentle circles around her clitoris as she would take a deep breath in, forehead pressed to hers. She would moan his name, hands pulling him closer to her as he moved his hand away before she would feel his finger against her entrance and suddenly push in.

Hells, she was ready for him.

He would begin to curl it towards him, kissing her to stop her from gasping, his tongue grazing hers as she would feel him smile. He would break the kiss to tell her how beautiful she looked, and she would be able to only kiss him harder in response. His hands always looked so wonderfully soft, he would slowly add another finger, whispering what a good girl she was for him as her back would arch and she would have no choice but to cry out for him as he oh so gently coaxed her to completion, her hands gripping his hair as the pressure finally broke, overcoming her, blurring her vision, as she’d see nothing but the stars.

Kara’s eyes flew open as she gasped his name. Her other hand dropped the book on the floor.

Chapter Text

As predicted, Gale’s back was killing him. His outer robe had been discarded long ago, shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and he wiped his brow as he stepped back to admire his handiwork. Before him, deep purple swathes of fabric hung from floor to ceiling, framing a simple wooden stage already prepped for the quintet. Tiny stars glittered in the light of the ballroom, enchanted into the fabric. The same fabric adorned the walls and windows, and he could see the lights’ reflection on the dance floor.

The Cynosure looked spectacular, he had to admit. Floating lanterns and candles bobbed lazily above them, and thick garlands of wildflowers were draped across each windowsill. The ballroom smelled like grass meadows and anticipation. A few of the other professors had been working with him, and content with their efforts, they began to drift out to the side rooms of the hall, reserved for them to get ready.

He had set up a little roped off performance space for Kara at the entrance of the ballroom, with the most comfortable chair he could find, and a tiny pocket dimension with a goblet of water that refilled every time she would replace it. He had somehow tracked down a music stand, borrowed with the promise of a round of drinks from the music department at the Academy, and had carefully set it up next to the chair. It was carved from mahogany, emblazoned with the Academy crest. He didn’t know if she would need one or not, but it seemed like something useful to have. At the very least, it was on brand.

He fussed over the space, checking on the pocket dimension and smoothing over the cushions.

“Cute.”

Quinn was smirking at him from the doorway. She was dressed in leather armour, with a wild black wig jammed onto her head and what looked to be a fake nose. She had a mace made out of cardboard strapped on her back, a small wooden jug hanging from her belt, and a costume black pearl necklace.

“Ambergris O’Maul?” Gale guessed, quickly straightening up and trying to pretend he was acting completely normally.

“Should have known you’d get it, you nerd,” she laughed. “What are you even dressed as? If you say yourself I’ll hit you with my mace.”

“I’ve been busy,” he said irritably, gesturing at the hall. “I’ll get ready in a moment. Why are you here so early? There’s still an hour to go.”

“Kara’s getting here soon. I said I’d help her get into her costume, apparently she can’t do it by herself.”

The idea of Kara in a state of undress would have made him blush if he wasn’t already sweating, but Quinn caught the look in his eye and smirked anyway. He grabbed his garment bag, which he’d left hanging over the bag of Kara’s chair.

“If you haven’t got an Elminster robe and hat, I’ve lost five silvers to Emin,” Quinn said, peering at the cloth as if concentrating really hard would reveal its secrets.

“You’re out of pocket, I’m afraid,” he said, patting the bag. “I’ve actually got a Maxan Maxer costume in there.”

“Deep cut,” Quinn said, looking a little impressed. “Any reason? Aside from the fact he wore a very dashing jacket and trousers and your hair and beard sort of look like his?”

“That was almost entirely the reason,” he admitted. He had been poring over the history books in the Academy library the day before, desperate for ideas, and had come across a portrait of Maxan quite by accident. He bore more than a passing resemblance. He was a bit hazy on the actual details and hadn’t bothered to read any further, he was so in a rush to have something to wear, but he’d definitely been a prominent magical figure, and he was sure he remembered the name from his childhood bedtime stories. Thanks to a seamstress in the North Wards who was friends with his mother, he’d managed to get a slightly too expensive outfit made overnight.

The front doors of the Cynosure opened, and Kara rushed in out of the pouring rain outside, cloak pulled tight round her. She threw back the hood, and her hair was pinned under a headscarf, somehow almost completely flat. She had a shimmering purple eyeshadow swept over her eyelids, which made her eyes startlingly green, almost an emerald colour. Her lips were a beautifully light pink. She didn’t seem to see him, partially blocked by the door to the ballroom, and rushed over to Quinn.

“Hey, Quinn,” she said, kissing her cheek quickly and throwing off her cloak, revealing his favourite purple shirt and trousers, her lyre case and a garment bag of her own, “where are we getting ready? Let me just put my lyre down and – oh,” and she blushed a very deep red. “Um, hi, Gale. Didn’t see you there.”

“Hi,” he said dumbly. “You look beautiful.” He gently kissed her cheek, careful not to smudge her makeup. Somehow, she blushed even deeper. Gale felt quite proud of himself. Quinn took Kara’s garment bag from her and unzipped it a little, taking a peek.

“I have no idea who you’re dressing as,” she said, lowering the zip further to get a closer look. Gale caught a glimpse of a metallic silver dress, caped sleeves and an elaborate lace neckline that almost resembled chain mail.

“It’s more obvious when it’s all together with the lyre,” Kara said, setting up the instrument and its stand next to the chair. “I’m dressing as Storm Silverhand. She’s the reason the audition went so well, really.”

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Gale realised why Maxan Maxer had sounded so familiar. He could see the wheels turning in Quinn’s brain. It wouldn‘t be too late to dress up as Elminster. He could probably cheat and use Seeming. Or he could just leave.

“Storm Silverhand…the bard, right?” Quinn said, gleefully smirking at Gale. “One of the Seven Sisters? Didn’t she have that consort who guarded her farm, what’s his name…”

“Maxan Maxer,” Kara replied absentmindedly. “Came back from the dead to be with her. Always had a bit of a crush on him when I was younger.”

Don’t you say a word, Gale Sent to Quinn desperately.

“Isn’t that who you’re dressing as, Gale?” his traitor of a student said innocently, and Kara almost dropped her folder of sheet music as she set it on the stand.

You want her to find out when everyone else does? she sent back, and Gale scowled at her.

“I completely forgot,” he said apologetically to Kara, who was frantically reordering her music and resolutely not looking at him. “I found his portrait in a book out of the library and picked it because of the beard.”

“Oh, no, um, that’s fine,” she said, and he could see her trying to fight a smile as she closed the folder and smoothed over it with her hand. “Actually, hah, speaking of consorts, I do need to talk to you about Daeris before he gets here, if you have a moment.”

Gale tried to look like he didn’t know what she was talking about.

“I’ll go put this in the other room,” Quinn said, hauling Kara’s dress over her shoulder. “We’re in the second door to the left when you’re ready, Kara.”

Thank you for leaving, but she’s definitely going to tell me she’s here with him, Gale sent as she left the room.

Not a fucking chance, Quinn sent back smugly, she’s so obviously excited that you’re wearing matching costumes. Nerds.

Kara checked down the corridor, making sure the coast was clear.

“So, Daeris approached me after work yesterday and asked if he could accompany me here tonight as my date,” she said, words spilling out of her in a rush. “And I turned him down, but I didn’t want to upset him or make things difficult, so I told him I already had one and I was hoping you’d be it.”

Gale went very pale, remembering how he’d encouraged him to ask Kara in the first place.

“Did you actually tell him I’d asked you?” he asked. Daeris was going to be furious with him.

“I…no, I just said I already had a date for tonight,” she said, biting her lip. “I thought…You know what, never mind. It was a stupid idea. I’ll just tell him I got stood up or something. Thanks, anyway.” Too late, Gale realised what he’d said and how he’d said it, and before he could dig any deeper she’d turned away.

“Kara –“

“I’d better go get ready, that dress is going to be a nightmare for Quinn to lace me into,” she joked, but she didn’t turn back to him, and he could hear the smallest wobble in her voice as she quickly walked to her dressing room for the night and shut the door behind her.

What the fuck did you do?!  

Quinn’s Sending rattled around in his head, and Gale decided it would be best to go and change, or maybe just hide in one of the side rooms and come out when this whole mess was over and done with.

Chapter Text

Kara shut the door behind her and promptly burst into tears.

“Kara!” Quinn said in alarm, as she sank to the floor, tilting her head back to try and preserve the eye makeup she’d spent twenty minutes trying to get right, back resting against the solid wood. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” she said thickly, eyes streaming. “Absolutely nothing. Just acted a complete and utter fool. Don’t know what I was thinking.”

Quinn sat down next to her and put an arm around her waist. She pulled a handkerchief from her trouser pocket and handed it to her.

“Armour with pockets,” Kara tried to joke as she dabbed at the corner of her eyes, a little purple staining the white cloth. “This is why you’re getting that doctorate.”

She sniffled. The tears wouldn’t stop. She resigned herself to having to redo her makeup and rested her head on her knees, as she hugged them tightly to her.

“I was only gone for a minute,” Quinn said, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “That’s got to be a new record for Gale to make a complete tit of himself.”

Kara couldn’t quite bring herself to laugh.

“Daeris asked me to be his date yesterday,” she said to her knees. “I turned him down and told him I already had one. I’ve been trying to get up the nerve to ask Gale since he’s the reason I got this job. I get here, I think, ok, no time like the present, and I finally ask him, just now, and he looks at me like I was a complete moron and asks me if I’d actually said to Daeris that I was here with him.” She dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief again. “You must think I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah, I do,” Quinn said, but for some reason she sounded incredibly angry with her. “You’re as stupid as he is. Match made in Elysium, you fucking morons.”

Kara lifted her head and looked blankly at her. She was scowling.

“Firstly, you got yourself this job. Gale only got you the audition. Secondly, Gale told Daeris to ask you to come to this dance, because he completely and utterly chickened out of asking you. He has been driving me insane with his moping, because he’s absolutely convinced you just think of him as his weird old wizard friend, and if you turn round now and tell me you think he thinks of you as some tavern bard with a schoolgirl crush, I will march out there right now and set fire to your fucking lyre. Hells.” Quinn was breathing heavily, and Kara didn’t doubt she was genuinely rather cross with the pair of them.

“When you say moping,” she said tentatively. Quinn elbowed her hard in the ribs.

“Fix your face and put your dress on before I throw you out the bloody window,” she snapped. “It’s bad enough I have to give him these pep talks, you’re getting this one and that’s it.”

There was a small table mirror set up at a table in the corner of what Kara assumed to be some sort of administrative office, so she grabbed her travel makeup case out of the bottom of the garment bag and set to work. Quinn stood on a chair to hang her dress from the larger mirror in the centre of the room.

“Sorry, Quinn,” Kara said sheepishly, carefully patting glitter onto her eyelids with a finger. “I’ll keep it together.”

“You’d better,” Quinn said crossly, smoothing out the fabric of the dress. There was a long pause. “Is this silk?” she asked, grumpily changing the subject, and Kara had the distinct impression she was trying not to lose her temper completely with her.

“Chiffon. More comfortable to play in. It’s one of my concert dresses, managed to find a seamstress in Castle Ward to make me the matching cape.”

“And the shoes?” Quinn said with a raised eyebrow, pointing to a delicate pair of silver stilettos on the floor next to her.

“I’ll be sat down most of the night. I can blame the shoes for my terrible dancing later.”

Satisfied with her patch job, Kara stood up and unbuttoned her shirt, throwing it over the back of the chair. She carefully took the strapless silver dress off the hanger and stepped into it, leaving the long cape. Hoisting it to the right height, she stood in front of Quinn on her chair, who began the arduous task of lacing her in.

“Don’t even think of asking me how long he’s had a crush on you, because I am done with both of your bullshit,” Quinn muttered, carefully threading the ribbon in a crossing pattern. “And why were you being so weird with him when you got here?”

Kara felt a heat creep up her back. Quinn poked her between the shoulder blades.

“See, this, what is this about? You weren’t like this the other day at the Markets.”

“Yes, well, that was before I got distracted reading a Bianca Brooks novel yesterday.” Kara grinned sheepishly. “And then I got too distracted to read it.”

Quinn stopped lacing her dress and leant to one side to meet her eye in the mirror. She couldn’t keep the frown on her face, and started laughing hard. “Kara Nilur, you pervert. Tell me everything.”

“I thought you were done with our bullshit,” Kara said, laughing with her.

“Not if it’s anything I can use against him,” Quinn replied wickedly.

“Gale recommended The Eyes of the Beholder the day after I met him. I finally got around to reading it.”

Quinn’s eyes went wide.

“I knew you lent him Wilder Magic, but Gale actually likes Bianca Brooks’ novels?!” she said, tightening the laces to the dress corset with a sharp tug, and Kara took a deep breath in as the dress began to mould to her shape. “I forgive you for everything. That’s the best thing anyone has ever told me.” She paused again. “I bet sweaty rolled up shirt sleeves Gale was really doing something for you when you got here, huh?”

“Wasn’t that far off the mental image,” Kara admitted, and Quinn cackled.

She finished, climbing down from the chair, and Kara carefully tied the accompanying cape around her shoulders, adjusting the embroidery at her neck so the illusion of armour read a little clearer. She shimmied her trousers off underneath the dress and threw them over her shirt on the chair. Quinn lifted a long silver wig and diadem from the bag and ran her fingers through it before passing it up to Kara, who carefully pulled it over her pinned hair.

A different woman stared back at her in the mirror. She had smooth silver hair past her elbows, a tiny teardrop diamond in the centre of her forehead hanging from the delicate headpiece. Her cape flowed behind her as she adjusted it around her arms. She smoothed the armour around her neck, as Kara felt the thread of the lace below her fingers.

“You were right,” Quinn said appreciatively. “No doubt who you are. Better get out there and knock them for six.” She suddenly winced slightly.

“Are you okay?” Kara said, tearing her eyes away from the mirror.

“Gale keeps fucking Sending me to see if you’re ok,” she grumbled. “Please go and tell him he’s been a moron, because I will not do it anymore. I am only here to get donor money and drink all the good mead.”

Kara opened the door and almost walked straight into Gale, who was hovering right by it, arm raised to knock. He was dressed in a beautiful lavender tailcoat embroidered in glittering silver, cut tight to him, cuffed sleeves with crisp collars and diamanté cufflinks, paired with grey trousers and black leather boots. He had slicked half of his hair back into a small bun, and he had a hint of brown kohl smudged around his eyes. The gold in the irises shone. He looked simply beautiful.

“You were right the fuck outside?!” Quinn yelled from behind her, shoving past Kara and punching him hard in the leg. “Neither of you talk to me the rest of the night.”

Kara snorted as she stormed off to the bar. A few guests had already started to arrive, and she turned to Gale, who looked so incredibly nervous she had no choice but to take pity on him.

“My lord,” she said quietly. “Forgive me for the misunderstanding. Would you do me the honour of accompanying me to my seat for the evening?”

Gale opened his mouth to say something, clearly decided against it, and held out an arm for her to take. “As my lady commands,” he said quietly as she rested her hand on his arm, and Kara felt a shiver run the entire length of her spine. “For what it’s worth, I am truly sorry. I assure you it was not my intention to hurt you, I just misjudged some things when I spoke to Daeris earlier.”

“Don’t be,” she said with a small smile. “Quinn and I talked.” Gale let out a slightly irritated huff, and she nudged him gently. “Only nice things, I promise.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” he muttered a little petulantly.

As they walked into the ballroom arm in arm, Kara spotted Professor Talonrook, unsurprisingly in an Elminster Aumar costume, drop a finger sandwich straight on the floor.

“She’s going to make a beeline for you, you know,” Kara said to Gale, as she took her seat next to her lyre.

“Please consider this my formal request to add her to your ever growing fighting list,” Gale said. As she went to open her folder, he put a hand on the back of her chair, leaning over her. Her breath caught as he gently held her chin with the other. He tilted her face to the side, and kissed her on her cheek, feather light, just a breath away from the corner of her mouth. “I’ll be waiting for that dance.”

He ran his thumb gently over her lips, careful not to smudge her lipstick, before straightening up and walking away, as she sat dumbly in her chair. Slowly, she picked up her lyre from its stand, and began to play in a daze.

Chapter Text

Maybe it was the costume, but Gale had never felt so bold in his entire life.

She had held his breath when he kissed her cheek. He’d felt her face burn beneath his mouth, her lip quiver under his thumb. She’d looked up to him with a fervent reverence he had never seen in anyone’s eyes. Not for him.

As he walked away from her, he willed himself not to look back, to keep this confidence she gave him for as long as he could. Lullaby for My Mother floated gently across the ballroom, and he snuck a glance over his shoulder. She still had a flush to her cheeks. It thrilled him to know he was the cause.

“Professor Dekarios! Gale!”

Talonrook called to him from across the room, and he sighed, the confidence cracking at the edges.

“Evening, Sora,” he said politely, as the dragonborn hurried over to him. “Delightful Aumar costume.”

“You and I both know half of the faculty will have chosen this,” she said, waving a hand at him impatiently. “You are going to tell me how you know the lyrist and you are going to tell me now.”

Gale laughed despite himself. Sora Talonrook was a sucker for gossip, and had tried to engage him in conversation exactly twice in his eight years at the Academy. Once when he had announced his marriage, and the other when that marriage had summarily imploded.

Gale didn’t want to think about his marriage tonight, so he simply shrugged. “I move in many circles, Sora. Surely it can’t come as that much of a surprise that I have friends outside of our esteemed colleagues.”

“Friends don’t kiss their friends the way you just kissed that lyrist,” Sora said grumpily, but despite further wheedling, Gale would give her no more details, and she stomped off in a huff.

The ballroom began to fill over the next hour, and Gale noticed with some satisfaction that with every guest that was announced, they would take a moment by the door to watch Kara play. She had chosen a set list that ranged from well known classical lyre songs, to arrangements of ballads written by or about famous mages and magic users, to a few cleverly disguised folk songs local to Waterdeep. Gale could have sworn he saw Vajra crack an honest to gods smile as Kara plucked the tune to the unofficial Blackstaff Academy anthem Waterdeep, My Home and Hearth as she was announced on her arrival. He noted with a little annoyance that the Blackstaff had come dressed as herself.

Daeris, to his credit, took the whole thing remarkably well. He obviously noticed Gale and Kara’s matching costumes as soon as he arrived, but he shook Gale’s hand, mumbled something about misreading intentions, and threw himself into conversation with two of the board members of the Academy about his almost complete thesis.

Gale had finally managed to obtain a glass of mead and was leaning against a wall watching her play when he felt a familiar hand on his arm. Mystra Corwion was in a floor length, heavily embroidered gown with a plunging neckline. She had covered her hair with a glossy black wig, and a glittering necklace followed the neckline of the dress, a string of diamonds hanging between her breasts.

Gale couldn’t help himself. He rolled his eyes. It was a costume he’d seen her wear countless times, and he was no longer impressed.

“I see you’ve dressed as Mystra again,” he said drily. “Creative as ever.”

His ex wife frowned, not used to this newer, braver side of him, but Gale was in no mood to entertain her tonight. He didn’t even bother to look at her. He had better views.

“You never used to complain,” she said, but she took her hand off his arm. “You would never dress up for a costume ball, either.”

“People change,” he said, simply. “Did you need something from me?”

“I only came to say hello, darling. You don’t have to be so needlessly dramatic about it.” Mystra carefully tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Am I allowed to ask why you’ve come dressed to match that charming little lyrist, or will you bite my head off about that too?”

Gale said nothing. He only drank from his glass, eyes resolutely on Kara.

“She seems quite young for you. I do hope this isn’t some silly cry for help.”

“Isn’t the deputy dean thirty years your senior?” he asked, and this time, he turned his head, fixing her with a steely glare. Her meticulously pencilled eyebrows furrowed. “My life is no longer your business. You made that perfectly clear when you left me for him and tried to tank my career in the process. Have a delightful evening, Mystra.” The tails of his jacket made a wonderfully crisp swooshing noise as he turned on his heel, and he marched over to the first person he could see who he knew. Mercifully, that happened to be Quinn, who was helping herself to another glass from the bar. She handed him a fresh goblet of mead as he set his empty one down. His hands were shaking slightly.

“About time you stood up to her,” she said, and clinked her glass to his.

“Ask me how I feel about it tomorrow,” he said, trying to drink slowly. “Right now I’m still a little bit terrified that I did that. I think this costume has taken me over.”

“If smudged brown kohl and a fancy jacket is what it takes,” she shrugged, and knocked back her mead.

Gale couldn’t help but look at Kara again. She had amassed a small crowd around her, but her eyes caught hers from across the room, and she smiled a tiny smile meant only for him.

“I’d better not catch you two in some coat closet at the end of the night,” Quinn said, elbowing him in the side with a sly grin.

“I – what? No, hells, Quinn, don’t be so crass,” he blustered, almost spilling his mead down his front. “I wouldn’t. I intend to court her properly, if you must know.”

Quinn burst out laughing.

“Who even are you?! That’s the worst sentence you have ever said, ever. You know what, Kara was way better at gossiping about you than you are about her.”

“What did Kara say?” Gale asked with interest, watching as she laughed good naturedly at one of the board members’ no doubt terrible jokes. Her stomach shifted more when she laughed at his. This laugh stopped at her throat.

“Oh, nothing much,” Quinn said. “Just that she very much enjoyed one of your book recommendations and it made her think of you.”

“I’ve never recommended her any books,” Gale said, confused, as Kara resumed her playing. “Unless you count the day after we met, and that was –“

He stopped himself. Quinn was smirking at him. She smirked at him all the damn time these days.

“You are joking,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “How do you get her to tell you all her secrets too? That is patently unfair. You are never allowed to speak to her ever again.”

“Nope, she’s my best friend now, and that means girl talk.”

“I thought I was your best friend,” he said grumpily, without really thinking about it, and for a moment Quinn looked genuinely touched.

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to be,” she said, watching Kara carefully retune her lyre before beginning the first of the Lliirian Suites.

“I wasn’t supposed to marry my former advisor,” Gale quipped. “The board will probably be delighted I’ve calmed down in my old age.”

Quinn looked delighted.

“Are you joking about that now? Am I actually allowed to joke about it with you in public?”

“Not in front of donors,” he said gruffly. “Definitely not to Kara. Or Daeris. Or Emin. Or any of the faculty. I will consider letting you bring it up in front of Loren.”

“Have you told Kara what happened yet?” Quinn asked him, and he sighed. “I guess it’s hard to bring up organically in conversation.”

“She knows I’m divorced, and that’s the extent of it. I’ll probably end up telling her the full story tonight if Mystra’s here,” he said, finishing his mead. “I have a horrible feeling she’s going to make me regret snapping at her.”

“You might want to hurry up,” Quinn said, tugging on his sleeve, and he looked over to see Mystra Corwion approaching Kara and strike up what looked for all the world to be a friendly conversation between one of Blackstaff Academy’s most prolific donors and the musician her money had paid for.

“Shit,” he muttered.

Chapter Text

“Good evening, my Chosen.”

Kara looked up from her lyre to see a beautiful woman dressed, very convincingly, as Mystra. She smiled politely at the joke as she adjusted the music on the stand.

“Mother of all Magic,” she replied, holding the lyre in the crook of her elbow and playing a simple enough tune that she could hold a conversation. “A blessing that you could attend our gathering. Kara Nilur,” she said, looking away to give the woman a nod. “That’s a stunning costume.”

“Mystra Corwion,” she replied, and Kara immediately heard Yenril in her head complaining again about Snobby Academic. “Director of the Department of Illusions at the University of Waterdeep. A pleasure.”

“Likewise,” Kara said, but some instinct meant the pleasantry rang hollow. She looked around her shoulder to see Gale and Quinn staring at her. “You’d be a colleague of Professor Dekarios, I assume?” she asked lightly, carefully turning the page of her music.

“His boss, actually. And his ex-wife.”

Kara plucked at completely the wrong string, and the discordant sound echoed throughout the hall. She took a moment to compose herself.

“Oh, darling,” Mystra said sympathetically, “did you not know about our divorce? I’m so sorry to drop that on you.”

Kara had been underestimated before, in Baldur’s Gate, what felt like a lifetime ago. Scores of old men desperate for her father’s business had talked down to her, over her, condescending and snide. Something about Mystra’s brand of insidious apology reminded her of those godsawful meetings that she’d managed to run from. But those old men had never quite been able to match her ability to be unerringly, irritatingly, polite, until she walked away with everything she wanted, and they had nothing to their name but their broken pride.

“I knew,” she said, resuming playing. “Professor Dekarios never happened to mention you by name. I can only apologise for the oversight on his behalf.”

“You and he must not be that close, then,” Mystra said, a prying tone to her voice.

“We are,” she replied, fingers flying over a complicated ornamentation. She didn’t bother to elaborate further for a few seconds, until she saw a muscle at the corner of Mystra’s eye twitch. “I’m afraid it’s simply never come up. He’s in attendance tonight, I’ll be sure to admonish him for it after my set ends in a few minutes.”

“No need, I can speak to him myself.”

“Of course.”

A petty part of her was very much enjoying how annoyed Mystra was that she was unbothered by her needling, and how badly she was trying to cover it up.

“I will leave you to the rest of your performance,” she bit out. “Good evening, Miss Nilur.”

“Good evening, Professor Corwion.” She watched as Mystra stalked away, up to an older man dressed, of course, as Elminster Aumar, and whisper something in his ear with a sadistic smile. He nodded back, approaching Kara, and she suddenly felt rather sick.

“Good evening, young lady,” he said. “I wonder if I could trouble you into making an announcement before the dances begin?”

“Of course, saer,” Kara said politely, running through the conversation she had just had to make sure she wouldn’t get unceremoniously fired before the ball had even properly started. Across the room, she could see Gale staring intensely at her, brow furrowed in concern. “I can speak to the Blackstaff and have that arranged.”

“Ah, no,” the man laughed, “my partner is rather insistent it comes from you. Preferably accompanied by your marvellous playing.” He began to offer a hand, but then realised Kara was still plucking at the strings, and quickly stashed it beneath his robes. “Deputy Dean Felix Langhans. Beautiful Silverhand costume, by the way. Particularly creative interpretation of the scale mail.”

“Kara Nilur, and thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.”

“Are you here with Dekarios? I couldn’t help but notice he’d dressed as your consort.” Kara really did not like the way the deputy dean said Gale’s name, but she bit her tongue.

“A happy accident, saer,” she said with a fake smile. “Professor Dekarios put me in touch with Blackstaff Safahr to provide entertainment for tonight. He has agreed to accompany me to the dance floor later, once I’ve completed my obligations to our patrons and donors.”

“Rather roundabout way of saying yes, Miss Nilur.” She gave him a demure nod in response. “Regardless, our announcement. Mystra and I would be delighted if you could announce our recent engagement to the gathered guests before the dances begin.”

Kara tried not to look at Gale, who’s furrowed brow had turned into a face like thunder as the Deputy Dean remained in conversation with her.

“Congratulations,” she said carefully.

“Personally, I would prefer it not to be quite so public, given the rather quick time between our courtship and her divorce, but my fiancée believes it would show a strong front, bury the hatchet and all that, seeing as he’s here with you. Really inspire your donors.”

Kara’s ears were ringing at the onslaught of new information.

“Saer, I’m not sure if –“

She was interrupted by Mystra clinking a knife to the side of her glass.

“I believe my own delightful Storm Silverhand has an announcement to make,” she said imperiously, voice suddenly magically amplified, smiling wide at Kara. Her teeth were like daggers.

Gale started across the room towards her, but Kara shook her head at him. She tried to beg him to go with her eyes, but he just looked at her, confused. She wished she could cast Sending.

“Ladies, gentlemen, esteemed guests of the Blackstaff Academy,” she said, gently playing a slow song under her words that she hoped Gale would recognise, “I have been asked to make an announcement by Deputy Dean Felix Langhans.”

She saw Vajra Safahr begin to push her way through the crowd, to be stopped by Mystra. Her eyes were boring into Kara’s.

“Please raise your glasses in a toast,” she said shakily, trying to recall the formalities, “to celebrate Deputy Dean Langhan’s engagement to the Director of the Department of Illusions, Professor Mystra Corwion. Long life and good health to you both.”

The ballroom erupted into noise. The majority of people toasted, some people clapped, others immediately began to chatter and gossip to their neighbours, but Kara could only watch as Gale slowly turned, walked out of the ballroom and onto the balcony, closing the door gently behind him.

She quickly finished her song, placing the lyre on its stand, and hurried after. She heard the quintet begin to play as she opened the door.

The balcony seemed to wrap around the whole building. Gale had his back to her, looking out into the distance, leaning on the simple stone balustrade. She was expecting the night air to be cold, with only her chiffon cape covering her arms, but the balcony was pleasantly warm. There was a hint of cinnamon spice in the air. She assumed she would see the city, but as her eyes began to adjust to the dark she realised that someone must have encased the Corysune in a gigantic illusion. A hazy aurora danced across the sky above and around them, tiny stars in constellations she didn’t recognise glinting just behind. It snaked its way around the entire tower, quickly shifting hues of silver and purple. She closed the door, turning its heavy key in its lock, and approached the balcony. The stars stretched out below them as she looked down.

Gale’s shoulders were shaking. She reached out a hand to him as gently as she could.

He looked to her, and there were tears streaming down his face, but he was crying with laughter, not sorrow.

“The absolute nerve of you,” he wheezed, “to underscore my ex-wife’s engagement announcement with the Ballad of the bloody Blackstaff.”

Chapter Text

Kara was looking at him like he had gone completely mad, and perhaps he had, but Gale could barely take a breath, he was laughing so hard. Mystra was going to be furious.

Even a few months ago, if she had pulled this stunt, he would have been devastated. He would have crawled back to his Tower and hidden under his bedcovers for at least two tendays. Instead, he was standing under a canopy of his own making, with a beautiful, smart, talented woman who had quietly made a mockery of Mystra’s posturing. Mystra had wanted a scene, and by the hells, she had got her wish.

He took a deep breath, his laughter finally subsiding, and the aurora above them calmed. Kara looked up, startled.

“You cast this?” she said in wonder, leaning back to admire his handiwork. Gale nodded.

“Illusory magic is my specialty. It has the power to confound the senses, to render the impossible into reality, and to allow expression of that most magical attribute of all. Imagination.” He paused. “At least, that’s what I always tell my students.”

She smiled slightly, not quite able to tear her eyes away from the sight. “I can tell. You didn’t trip over your words once.”

He nudged her with his elbow, and she giggled. Distantly, behind the door to the the ballroom, they heard the quintet begin a gaillard he was vaguely sure of the steps to, and somehow his confidence swelled.

“I believe my lady promised me a dance,” he said, bowing and offering a hand.

“You want to go back in?” she said, surprised.

“That was not what I said.”

She smirked, and took it, curtsying. He led her to the centre of the balcony. The skies began to glow, and the stars pulsed with the music.

“I haven’t done this in years,” he admitted, as they began the first steps, a jaunty step and kick forward and back.

“Me neither,” Kara said, trying not to snag her dress on her heels. “Probably for the best we’re hiding out here.”

“You’re a musician,” he laughed, as she tripped and swore loudly. “How are you so bad at this?”

“My musical prowess does not stretch to my feet,” she retorted with a grin. He led her round in a circle, which became more of an oval as they both set off with completely the wrong rhythm and tried to synchronise, Gale almost stepping on her foot.

Kara moved closer to him and let go of his hand, resting it on his shoulder. Gale’s face dropped in horror as he remembered the next step.

“You forgot this was the Volta, didn’t you?” she smirked, as Gale gingerly put his hands on her waist.

“If I say no, you aren’t going to believe me.” He lifted her up as she jumped in the air to help him, but he hadn’t quite got his grip right. “How are you so heavy?!”

“Gale!” She shrieked with laughter as he almost dropped her, the aurora flaring bright for a moment, and he managed to catch her before she tumbled to the floor. “That is no way to speak to a lady!”

She shoved him a little, but she didn’t break out of his arms. Her laughter petered out as they held each other for a moment. He could see his illusory stars in her eyes.

“May I show you something?” he asked quietly. She nodded.

He moved closer to her, and stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her to gently take hold of her wrists. She was taller in her heels, the top of her head at eye level instead of just under his chin. He heard her breath catch slightly in her throat as he raised her arms.

“Repeat after me,” he said quietly, pulling her slightly into him so he could speak into her ear. He could feel her shoulders against his chest, tight and tense from his touch. “Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Khantrach-Ao.”

As she repeated the words, Gale moved his arms in a slow, languid motion, guiding her hands with his. The air began to hum around them as the Weave began to flow from him into her. He heard her sigh as the purest form of magic washed over them both. His aurora began to shimmer.

“Very good,” he murmured appreciatively, and he could feel a wave of heat against his cheek as Kara blushed. “Now, I want you to picture in your mind the concept of harmony. As clear as you can.”

He could taste the sweetness of the Weave on his tongue, a rose water scent hanging in the air. He felt the familiar presence of his goddess around them, holding them safe in the palm of her hand, as the aurora shifted from purple and silver to a deep emerald green and sparking gold.

“Are you doing this?” Kara said breathily, moving his hands with hers in an arc. A star shot across the illusory sky, following the trajectory of her fingers.

“You’re channelling the Weave,” he said, letting go of her wrists and wrapping his arms around her stomach, feeling the cool chiffon under his hands and the warmth of her body under the fabric. “I may be the conduit, but for now, the illusion is yours to command. How does it feel?”

He watched as she experimentally flexed her right hand, and the aurora above them broke, rolling into clouds that blanketed the sky before reforming into its original haze.

“Effortless,” she replied dreamily, turning her head to look at him by her shoulder. “You’re a wonderful teacher. Much better than your dancing.”

“I should hope so,” he said, mouth suddenly dry. Her lips were unbearably close to his. “Otherwise I’d be out of a job.”

She laughed quietly, and the stars flickered a little brighter. She looked out again, and carefully began to arrange them into familiar constellations around them. Gale could feel the Weave drawing them together, connecting them, and he realised he would only have to think about his desires and Kara would know. But he wanted to ask her himself.

Carefully, he took her hands in his again, and with a whispered incantation the skies returned to silver and purple.

“Kara,” he said, his hands shaking slightly at her touch, “would you look at me?”

She turned to face him, but he didn’t move away. Instead, his hands came to rest on the small of her back, holding her tightly to him. She ran her fingers gently over the embroidery on the front of his brocaded jacket. Anticipation hung heavy in the air between them as she looked up at him, eyes glimmering in the light of his spell.

“Could I –“

“May I –“

They spoke over each other again. She smiled at him as he sighed at her, resting his forehead against hers.

“You first,” she whispered.

“May I kiss you?” he asked, barely able to speak.

“I would like that.”

He leant down, as she held the lapels of his jacket, and as slowly as he could, pressed his lips to hers. His right hand moved of its own volition, to cup her face, thumb gently stroking her cheek. Her skin was as smooth as cream. He could feel her smiling. He could still taste the tiniest hint of the Weave on her mouth. He felt her hands tremble against his chest.

He wanted to be a gentleman, to not take too much from her too soon, but as he tried to pull away, her hands gripped tightly to his jacket and suddenly she was kissing him fiercely, turning with him and stepping backwards until she was leaning on the stonework of the Cynosure, leading him with her. He moved the hand on her back, before it caught between her and the brick, and held her face in his hands, his fingers sliding slightly under her wig. They gripped onto the nape of her neck as he felt her moan slightly into his mouth, and her tongue was trying to taste him. He gladly met hers with his, the mead he’d been drinking mixing with her taste of spearmint. She was pulling his body flush with his, she was so warm, he would have anything of her, anything that she would give him, he would give her everything –

Have you seen Kara? Her second set is in about ten minutes.

Gale broke away from Kara, swearing profusely as Quinn’s Sending spell buzzed urgently in his head.

“That bad?” Kara said breathlessly. Her lipstick was wrecked.

“Quinn says your next set is coming up,” he said, letting go of her face and leaning his hand on the wall next to her. “I’m going to have to have a talk with her about boundaries.”

Kara laughed quietly. “I’m guessing I need to go freshen up, given you’re wearing half my lipstick.”

“How do I look?”

“Suits you.” She gently touched a finger to his lips. “I’d ask if you want to throw those doors open and really give the donors something to talk about, but I’ve had a few offers of employment from them tonight. Should probably pretend to be a professional.”

“Another time,” he said, taking a few steps back. Kara let go of his jacket, but she reached out and took hold of his hand, leading him over the ballroom doors. Gale could feel the callouses on the tips of her fingers as they entwined together with his.

“Packed,” she murmured, as she unlocked the door and cracked it open an inch. Gale leant in behind her. The dance floor was bustling as the quintet played a lively quadrille. “Any ideas?”

“Many,” he whispered in her ear, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck lightly. The gasp she let out was delicious.

“Gale,” she said with a giggle, quickly shutting the door before they were spotted. “My set.”

“Oh, yes, that,” he replied. “I think there’s another door this way.”

They walked hand in hand around the corner to find another set of doors, this one leading to what appeared to be a dressing room for the quintet, who had left their instrument cases neatly to one side. Kara’s dressing room was across the corridor.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” she said, sticking her head out to make sure the coast was clear. “You should probably start making your rounds.”

There was nothing Gale wanted to do less. She could see that on his face, because she rested a hand on his cheek and pulled him in for a tender, much more chaste kiss, then broke away and darted back to her rooms.

Gale caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. A few tendrils of hair had escaped the half topknot and had fallen in his face. The brown kohl around his eyes had run a little down his cheeks, and he had light pink lipstick all around his mouth. The lapels of his jacket had ridden up his chest where Kara had held them.

It was blatantly obvious just what he’d been doing on that balcony.

He quietly left the quintet’s chambers and made his way back to the room he had gotten ready in two doors down. He wiped at his mouth and face with some paper towels left by the little sink, brushed his hair back until it looked presentable once more, and carefully reapplied the kohl. With any luck, nobody would have noticed his absence.

Chapter Text

Kara had just finished reapplying her lipstick when she heard a gentle knock at her room’s door.

“Miss Nilur? May I come in?”

She recognised the voice instantly as Blackstaff Safahr’s.

“Um, of course!” she said, trying to keep her voice light as she frantically checked her appearance in the mirror. Her wig was still slightly askew, and she grabbed it with her hands and jammed it properly on her head as the Blackstaff let herself in. “I’ll be back out in the hall in a few minutes.”

“Actually, I came to apologise for Professor Corwion’s behaviour,” the Blackstaff said, sitting on the chair next to her. “I should have done more to stop her. I hope she didn’t upset you too greatly. You were missed at the first set of dances.”

“It’s truly fine,” Kara assured her. “I was, um, otherwise occupied.”

“Is that so?”

Kara thought of Gale’s hand on the back of her neck.

“Taking in the night air,” she said as casually as she could manage, but her voice cracked a little. She swallowed hard. “Admiring the illusions on the balcony. I assure you Professor Corwion hasn’t upset me in the slightest.”

“If you’re certain,” the Blackstaff said, studying her for a moment. “It was a curious tune you chose play whilst you made the announcement, though.”

Kara tried very hard to control the creeping red flush up her neck.

“Just an old folk song,” she stuttered.

“Miss Nilur, you cannot expect me to believe that when I am technically the subject of that particular ballad,” the Blackstaff said, her face completely unreadable. “Professor Corwion was spitting feathers when someone told her. She’s already ordered me not to pay you.”

Kara bit her lip. “Blackstaff Safahr, I can only apologise for my unprofessionalism –“

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said matter-of-factly. “If it weren’t for the fact that the ball funding allocations are so strict I’d give you a bonus. I’ve never been able to stand that woman. I’ve told her I requested it played at the end of your first set and it’s her own silly fault for forcing you to make the announcement. You have my permission to explain it as such if anyone asks.”

There was another knock at the door, but this person didn’t wait for permission, and Gale stuck his head into the room.

“My lady, at the very least permit me to escort you back to – oh,” he said abruptly, as Kara frantically shook her head at him. Blackstaff Safahr made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. “Hello, Vajra. I didn’t realise you were here. I’ll wait outside.”

He quickly shut the door. The Blackstaff raised an eyebrow at Kara.

“It’s an inside joke,” Kara said, a little lamely.

“Quite,” the Blackstaff said, visibly amused by them. “I won’t keep you any longer. I look forward to your next set, Miss Nilur. I’ll expect you in five minutes.”

She stood and left the room, and Kara heard Gale apologising profusely outside the door, the Blackstaff dismissing him and walking back to the ballroom. Getting out of her chair, she leant her head out of her room. Gale was pinching his nose and muttering to himself.

“Fuck me sideways,” he grumbled.

“Very forward of you, my lord,” she said. “Take a girl out to dinner first.”

Gale started, and blushed bright red.

“You will be the death of me,” he said, grinning sheepishly. “I cannot believe I said that in front of Vajra.”

“If it helps, I think she found it funny,” she said, coming out of her rooms and closing the door behind her. She looked him over, checking for any signs of their previous activities, and ran a hand over his chest, adjusting the lapels on his jacket until they laid just so.

“It does not.”

She took his arm as they headed after the Blackstaff. The quintet had only just finished, and Gale walked her over to her seat, her lyre ready and waiting on its stand.

“Go mingle,” she said to him, and he huffed a little as she took her seat, lifting her lyre back into her lap. “By the looks of things half of this ballroom wants to speak to you.” Gale was attracting a huge number of stares as he hovered by her chair.

“Is it acceptable if I just talk about you?”

“Entirely so,” she said with a little smile, her heart singing. “Although you could always give them your favourite Bianca Brooks recommendations.”

“I’m going to tell them all you’re a terrible person and not to hire you under any circumstances,” he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. She smirked at him as he left, and he rolled his eyes back at her before turning to the nearest group of donors, who struck up animated conversation with him almost immediately.

She opened her folder to her second set. This was very much background music, quiet folk songs and minuets written to be spoken over. She’d played the pieces so often in Baldur’s Gate that she barely needed the sheet music anymore, muscle memory taking control as she looked around the ballroom.

Mystra and Felix were surrounded by a small gathering of well wishers, and Kara noted with some satisfaction that while Mystra was smiling broadly, her arms were very firmly crossed, and her body language screamed frustration. Kara felt a little sorry for Felix, who was beaming with pride, an arm around his fiancée.

Daeris and Quinn were talking with two elderly tieflings by the bar. At least, Daeris was talking, clearly in the middle of a very detailed description of his research as he gesticulated a little wildly, almost catching poor Quinn in the face. She caught Kara’s eye as she dodged his hand and gave her a small wave.

I’ll come talk to you in a second, Kara heard in her head. We’re just catching up with our sponsors.

She watched as Daeris and Quinn hugged the pair after a while, and Quinn pushed her way through the crowd to her corner.

“It won’t bother you, will it?” she asked, gesturing at her music.

“This is the easy stuff,” Kara replied, but she couldn’t resist adding a decorative flourish of notes as she said it just to show off.

“Yeah, alright, the novelty of your talent has worn off now,” Quinn said, grinning. “I wanted to make sure you were okay, I couldn’t find you anywhere after that stunt Corwion pulled.”

“I was out on the balcony,” Kara said, pretending to focus on her music. “Getting some air.”

“The balcony? But that was locked during the dances. I thought we weren’t allowed on it.” Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “Come to think of it, I couldn’t find Gale either. I just assumed he was hiding from having to dance – oh my gods,” she gasped, leaning in and dropping her voice to a whisper, “did you go out and fuck Gale on the balcony?”

“Quinn,” Kara hissed, head snapping to her. She thanked the gods everyone else seemed engaged enough in their own conversations to not overhear theirs.

“I mean, I’m not judging you if you did, I’d actually be pretty impressed –“

“Quinn, we didn’t –“

“I always thought he might have a bit of a kinky side, but I thought it would be one of the tame ones like feet or something, not full on exhibitionism –“

“I did not have sex with Gale on the fucking balcony,” Kara said in a rush, trying to keep her voice down. “We talked and we kissed, that’s it.”

She felt a little disloyal to Gale for saying it so casually when the kiss in question had left her a quivering mess, but she really, really wanted Quinn to stop talking.

“Keep playing,” Quinn said quickly, and Kara started, not realising she wasn’t plucking her way through Arabesque no.4anymore. She pretended she’d stopped to take a drink from the goblet in the pocket dimension at the side of her chair. The water was cool against her lips, and she stashed the goblet away again, resuming her playing roughly where she’d left off.

“Go away,” she said to Quinn. “Stop making me tell you all my secrets.”

“You will tell me everything tomorrow,” Quinn said with a smirk. “We are getting fancy coffee from the Markets at eleven hours and I want all of the details.”

“I’m pretty sure that still falls under the bullshit you didn’t want to know about,” Kara retorted, as Quinn stuck her tongue out at her and left to bully Gale.

Chapter Text

Gale Dekarios had never felt so popular in his entire life.

Normally at parties, he was a bit of a wallflower, the loud music and overlapping conversations overwhelming his hearing. He preferred to find some quiet corner and speak only when spoken to, nursing a glass of wine and counting down the minutes until it was socially acceptable to go home and read. Mystra used to drag him around by the arm if they attended together, bragging about whatever research she had just published – ‘with my husband’s aid, of course’, she’d say, as if he wasn’t co-author on half of her works and had done the lion’s share – before inevitably forgetting about him, barely noticing as he’d tell her he planned to leave, dismissing him so she could return later.

Tonight, people were approaching him constantly, some with pity in their eyes that quickly dissipated as they saw the joy in his, some to privately gossip about his ex-wife’s awful behaviour, and almost all of them asking about Kara. He had never been someone to kiss and tell. He wanted to make sure she seemed a paragon of professionalism. But by the hells, it felt incredible to be the one boasting.

He was careful not to mention The Paper Plane. Not because of any embarrassment at the prospect, he actually adored that he’d met her in the bookshop, but there were a number of potential patrons for her in attendance and keeping the focus on her musicianship rather than any other avenues of employment seemed like the wiser choice. Obviously there were faculty members in attendance who had seen her work there, but for the most part, there seemed to be an unspoken agreement between them all to simply not talk about it. When anyone asked how they had met, he just said she was a friend of Yenril’s who had recently moved to Waterdeep, and that seemed to be a satisfactory answer.

“Her audition for this evening was truly spectacular,” he was saying animatedly to two of their most prolific donors, a shipping merchant called Corxis and his wife, and the Professor of Conjuration, as they stood by the bar at the back of the room. “Professor Strava, you would agree, surely?”

Petrov nodded his assent. “Professor Dekarios’ obvious bias aside, Miss Nilur was a very lucky find,” he said, giving Gale an amused look. “Saved the event for us, quite frankly. I thought it was going to be a disaster when the quartet dropped out.”

“She looks familiar, I must say,” Corxis said, looking over at Kara, who was playing through a selection of Silverhand’s folk songs. “Did you say where she’d moved from, Dekarios?”

Gale thought back, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember if Kara had ever actually told him. He shrugged. “My apologies, Corxis, I’m afraid it’s slipped my mind.”

Corxis’ wife frowned for a moment. “Wasn’t Kara Nilur the heir to that textiles business in Baldur’s Gate?” she said to her husband. “If I recall correctly, she was the lyrist for the Simril dinner we attended at their mansion a few years ago.”

Corxis snapped his fingers. “Of course! The wig threw me off,” he laughed. “Her mother was so insistent that she would be taking over once her father retired. Always thought it was a shame that talent would go to waste. I heard Gyles passed away recently, I’m surprised she managed to get out of Mallory’s clutches.”

Gale tried to keep the shock out of his face as he looked over to Kara. He hadn’t even thought to consider why she had moved to Waterdeep. If he was honest, he’d assumed she was from one of the smaller surrounding towns, coming to the city to make her fortune like so many before her. Instead, it appeared she’d run away from one.

She was coming to the end of her set, putting her lyre down on its stand as Patrick gave her a signal from the stage. The quintet began to play a canario, and a few attendees began to drift towards the dance floor. Petrov made his excuses as his wife dragged him away to dance. Kara stood, looking around the room for him, and her eyes met his. Her brow furrowed at his expression, and she raised an eyebrow at him questioningly, making her way towards their group.

“Ah, Miss Nilur!” Corxis said genially, waving her over.  “It’s wonderful to see you again. Beautiful playing, as ever.”

“Ah, my apologies,” Kara said, shaking his hand. “You’ll have to remind me?”

“Tobias Corxis, and this is my wife, Annie. We had the pleasure of hearing you play in Baldur’s Gate a few years back.”

Gale watched Kara closely, but aside from flexing her left hand almost imperceptibly, she seemed completely unbothered.

“Saer Corxis! Of course, forgive me. Long night,” she laughed genially. “The Simril dinner? I seem to remember you were a particular fan of the Geddarm minuets?”

“Exactly so. I was just saying to Annie I’m glad to see you pursuing your music career. We couldn’t imagine a talent like that getting stuck in textiles, of all things. Though I was sorry to hear of your father’s passing, if you’ll accept our condolences.”

Kara’s eyes flicked over to Gale, then back to Corxis. Gale really wished Corxis would have more tact, but it had never been one of his strengths.

“That’s kind of you to say, saer,” she said quietly. Gale felt something brush against his side and looked down. Kara was searching for his hand. He gently took it and she gripped it tightly. “My father always spoke fondly of you. Unless you’d overcharged him for silks.”

Corxis barked out a laugh. “I see you inherited his humour.” His wife nudged him, gesturing her head down. Corxis noticed Kara’s hand, knuckles white, in Gale’s. “But I’ve taken up too much of your time. I’ll leave you to enjoy your evening. Miss Nilur, Professor Dekarios.”

Kara exhaled heavily as Corxis and his wife walked arm in arm to join the canario, then turned to Gale.

“How much did he tell you?” she asked nervously. Her hand had started to tremble in his.

“Not much more than what he said to you,” Gale said gently. He handed her a glass of wine from the bar, and she took it gratefully. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” He remembered the day at the Markets when she had avoided the subject of her mother entirely.

“Not here,” she said. “I want tonight to stay perfect.” She took a sip of wine and sighed, leaning on his shoulder a little, still holding his hand. “Can we just pretend that conversation didn’t happen and we’ll talk about it another time?”

“Of course. And I suppose I owe you the full sorry story of what happened with Mystra, if she spoke to you earlier.”

“That’s going to be the worst date ever,” Kara said, lips twitching into a smile, and Gale snorted.

“I don’t know,” he said, resting the side of his head on the top of hers. “If you think about it, you did ask me to be your date tonight, and so far I’ve accidentally turned you down, my ex-wife has made you announce her engagement and I almost killed you trying to dance with you on the balcony. Interesting definition of perfection on your part.”

“Good point,” and her hand finally began to relax. “You’ve been an awful date. I hope you plan on generously making it up to me. Preferably without talking my ear off in the process.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will,” he said, letting go of her hand and snaking it around her waist. “Generosity is one of my most noble virtues. And given my propensity towards verbosity…” He leant in, lowering his voice. “It shouldn’t come as a surprise that I have a practiced tongue.”

“Gale Dekarios,” Kara gasped in shock, almost dropping her wine. She had gone an absolutely delightful shade of pink. Gale started laughing as she smacked his arm lightly, shoving him away from her. “That is not something Maxan Maxer would say in public.”

He barely recognised himself, this man who laughed and joked and flirted easily. He could gladly attend a hundred parties in a tenday if she was stood at his side. He vaguely registered that people were looking their way, as he laughed loudly and Kara pretended to be enthralled by the labels on the wine bottles. He had no doubt that rumours would be running wild by the time he came back in to work on firstday, but this new man that he had become could not have cared less. He wanted them to know; he wanted everyone in Waterdeep to know. Gale Dekarios was happy, truly happy, for the first time in months.

Chapter Text

The conversation with Corxis was forgotten in a moment, or at the least, buried in a corner of her mind where she didn’t have to pay it any heed. Kara had to look at the wine bottles, because if she looked at Gale, she would drag him straight out of the Cynosure by his belt buckle and straight to her bed, professionalism be damned. His laugh was incredible, throaty and carefree, carrying through the ballroom like a symphony. She’d never heard him laugh as much before tonight. She never wanted it to stop, but then again, if she stopped it with her mouth, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

The thought of his practiced tongue between her thighs popped into her head before she could stop it. She bit her lip, examining a bottle of Athkatlan red very closely, shifting her weight between her feet to try and dissipate the flush of arousal coursing through her. A few people approached the bar, and Gale fell into easy conversation with them, passing out wine glasses. He managed to catch her eye and smirked at her.

“Kara?”

Daeris approached her nervously. He was dressed in deep blue, high collared robes, holding a plain wooden staff. His hair was curled around his horns, and a pendant hung delicately around his neck. Kara vaguely recognised the symbol as one of the ancient Archmages.

“Hey, Daeris,” she said, and Daeris blushed slightly. “Is that a Mordenkainen costume?”

“Otiluke, actually,” he replied. “You’re the closest guess so far.”

“You’d think a room full of academics would have managed,” she said, nudging him with her elbow. “Are you having a good time?”

Daeris nodded, but he was clearly trying to gather the courage to say something to her. Kara waited patiently as he fiddled with a button on his robes.

“I, um, just wanted to apologise,” he said quietly, not looking her in the eyes. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything. If I’d known there was something between you and Profes – Gale, I wouldn’t have even thought about asking.”

“Daeris, you don’t have to apologise. It’s my fault. I should have told you the truth.” Kara put a hand on his arm in comfort. “It really was very sweet of you to ask. And brave. I couldn’t have done what you did.”

Daeris still quite didn’t look at her, but his chest swelled with a little bit of pride. Kara looked out across the ballroom, and spotted a nervous looking elf leaning against the wall, pushing a pair of large glasses up her nose, in an unfamiliar costume made of deep black silk, a long slit running almost up to her hip and long sleeves artfully ripped. Her eyes were looking longingly at the dance floor.

“Do you know who that is?” she asked Daeris, gesturing her head to her. “She clearly wants someone to ask her to dance.”

“The girl dressed as The Simbul…is that Aelwyn Strava?” Daeris stared at her. Kara started to get the feeling that Daeris was the sort of man who fell in love at the drop of a hat. “I’ve never seen her look like…that.”

“You should go ask her,” Kara said, as Daeris almost broke the button off the front of his robes. She gave him a reassuring push.

He started over towards her, Kara completely forgotten about. Kara watched as he said something she couldn’t hear, holding out a hand, and Aelwyn took it gingerly, walking with him to the dance floor. The quintet was playing a languid waltz, moving away from the raucous group dances and into a slower section of their set that heralded the end of the night, before Kara was due to play her final quarter hour.

As Daeris stood half a country mile away from Aelwyn, arms poker straight and hands on her hips, Aelwyn put her arms around his neck and pulled him in closer. Kara could see him blushing from the other side of the hall.

She heard Gale making excuses to the group he was talking to, before feeling his hand in hers as he started to lead her away from the bar and towards the dance floor.

“Gale,” she said nervously, “Didn’t we establish that dancing is not our forte?”

“Indulge me,” he replied, as they reached the other couples. He put her hand on his shoulder, taking hold of her other one and slipping his free hand around her waist. “I’m sure we can manage a slow waltz.”

As the music enveloped them in its embrace, Gale gently held her close to him, and she rested her head on his shoulder as they swayed in time to the music. She could hear him humming along, feel the resonance against her cheek. She felt the warmth of his hand, gentle and soft, on the small of her back, as he held her hand to his chest.

Time slowed, and time stopped, if only for one peaceful moment.

And in one moment more, the quintet finished the waltz, and she realised she would have to return to her lyre. Gale released her, but before she could say anything, he lifted the hand he was holding to his lips and kissed it gently.

“My lady,” he said quietly.

“My lord,” she replied. “Will you wait for me until I’m done?”

“For you, Storm Silverhand,” he said dramatically, walking with her to her chair for the final set of the night, “I would gladly wait a thousand lifetimes.”

He kissed her cheek, then left to say goodbye to the guests who were beginning to stream out of the hall. A few stopped by to bid her goodnight, or pass on details for their own events that they wished to hire her for, or simply to listen for a few more minutes. Quinn was one of the last to leave, winking at her as she headed out the door. Soon, it was only a few faculty members, her and Gale left, tidying the hall.

Sure that the night was over, Kara stood to go and fetch her lyre case, only to see Gale coming in holding it, looking gleeful.

“You will never guess who I just saw in the corridor,” he said, grabbing her hand and dragging her over to the door, pointing down an unlit hallway nearby. In the dark, Kara could just see a robed tiefling passionately kissing an elf in a black dress, pressing her against the wall, a hand snaking dangerously high along her exposed leg that he was holding up to his waist. She stifled her giggles, taking her lyre case from Gale.

“Didn’t know Daeris had it in him,” she laughed, once they were out of earshot, heading back to her chair and beginning to pack up. “Quinn’s going to have a field day when she finds out.”

Gale reached into the pocket dimension by her chair, retrieving the goblet, before dispelling it with an easy wave of his hand. He began to fold the music stand as Kara did up the latches of her case, but stopped, as something caught his eye by the bar. Kara followed his gaze, and saw a tall elven man had taken down one of the velvet drapes from the wall and was headed towards the door.

“Daeris might not survive until then,” he said, putting the music stand down quickly. “That’s Aelwyn’s father. I’ll go distract him, you get those two somewhere slightly less obvious.”

Kara picked up her lyre case and her folder of music and hurried to the door, trying to look as though she was headed to get changed. Gale reached the elf as they all reached the door at the same time.

“Ah, Petrov!” he said, very loudly. “Quite the evening, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Er, quite, Gale,” Petrov said, trying to side step him, but Gale deliberately got in the way. “If you don’t mind, Aelwyn and I really should be going, if I can find her.”

“Of course!” Gale said genially. “I think I saw her head onto the balcony to admire the views before I dismiss the illusions. I’ll take those to the other room for you.” He practically snatched the fabric from Petrov’s hands as Petrov backed away slowly, heading for the balcony doors.

Kara stepped out into the hallway.

“Daeris,” she hissed into the dark. She heard a squeak, and saw the couple spring apart. Daeris’ robes had come undone. “Aelwyn’s father is looking for her. Go hide.” Daeris scurried away down the corridor, his hands looking suspiciously as though they were relacing his trousers, as Aelwyn quickly adjusted the front of her dress.

Kara beckoned Aelwyn along the main hallway. “In here,” she said, holding the door open to the quintet’s room, now empty. “You can get out to the balcony. We told your father you were looking at the illusions.”

The elf seemed like she was still catching her breath, so she nodded her thanks and slipped out of the side door. Kara chuckled to herself, heading back to her own rooms to collect the rest of her belongings. Gale was leant on the wall by her door, keeping a watchful eye on the ballroom. He had one leg bent, foot on the skirting board, arms folded in a way that made his jacket seams strain slightly. Her garment bag was folded neatly on the floor next to him.

He was looking away from her, and she took the opportunity to sneak up on him, before turning his head with a finger under his chin. He started slightly at the touch, and she watched his expression change in front of her immediately. His eyes softened, the crows’ feet crinkling, and a small dimple she hadn’t noticed before formed at the left of his mouth, slightly masked by his beard.

She kissed him just as he was opening his mouth to say something to her. His lips were soft. He tasted like mead and that sweetness of the Weave she’d had on her tongue on the balcony. Inexplicably, he smelled like parchment and sandalwood. She heard him make the softest of noises in the back of his throat, a satisfied note that reverberated on her lips. His arms unfolded, and she felt his hands on her neck and back again, already familiar with the curve of her spine. Like they were moulded to her.

She leant back, breaking away from him. She was still gently holding his chin between her finger and thumb.

“I have a carriage coming to pick me up soon,” she said breathily. “Come home with me.”

She wanted more of him, now that she had had a taste. She wanted to run her hands over his chest, fingers playing over the wisps of hair she’d seen peeking through his shirt, to kiss her way down and see if the rest of him was as sweet.

But to her surprise, Gale shook his head.

“Kara… I want to do this properly,” he said haltingly, and she could hear the nerves in his voice. “I…haven’t felt like this for a long time. And…and I can’t help but feel that this could be something…more. Which is breathtaking, and more than a little terrifying. I don’t want to rush it.”

She could feel the tension in his hands, as if he was expecting her to break away and run if he uttered one more word. His eyes kept darting from hers, to the front door, to the doors of her rooms, and back to her. Carefully, she smoothed his hair behind his ear.

“If that’s what you need,” she said, as he leant into her hand, “then of course that’s what we’ll do.” Then, because she couldn’t resist teasing him just a little, she smirked. “Although you really should have said something before you started on about your practiced tongue.”

“There’s something to be said for delayed gratification,” Gale said, taking her wrist and kissing her palm. “But…look, flirting with you and the prospect of actually, um, following through with you is entirely different, not to mention, well, needing to back up my claims, so to speak.”

He was starting to worry again. She could tell from the way he was beginning to babble. The easy smile and dimple had been replaced by his familiar furrowed brow. She reached up and smoothed at it with her fingers. There was something more to this, she could tell, no doubt to do with the conversations they were saving for another day.

“Gale,” she said, holding his chin again. “I really like you. I want to see where this leads. I find you ridiculously attractive, even when you haven’t accidentally dressed as my eternal consort. You could ask the world of me right now and I would say yes.”

She kissed him, as gently as she could, before pulling away and kissing his cheek.

“Could I ask to take you out, then?” he asked quietly. “Somewhere you aren’t being paid to be would be nice.”

“Of course,” she said with a smile, bending to pick up her garment bag. Her clothes were neatly hung on the hanger inside. “When?”

“Maybe tenthday?”

She nodded. The frown lines were slowly melting. She turned to leave, mindful that her carriage was waiting for her outside, but a little impulse was nagging at her and she couldn’t bring herself to leave until she voiced it.

“Could I…can I say that we’re courting? If anyone asks? Or is that too much?”

“You would want to?” Gale asked in genuine surprise. Kara’s heart ached at the question. She wanted to wrap him up in her arms and hide him away from a world that had ever made him think that way. “I suppose I have no quarrels with it. There’s bound to be questions after tonight. We weren’t exactly subtle in our affections.”

“I don’t know what this we business is, you chose to dress to match me,” Kara said with a grin. “And came and hovered by my chair all night, and talked about me to everyone you spoke to, and I’ve not even started on what happened on the balcony.”

“Nobody saw what happened on the balcony,” he said, moving closer to her. “That is our delightful little secret.”

He bent to kiss her again, but she felt a sudden gust of cold air on her back and heard a quiet ahem. A smartly dressed footman was stood in the main doorway of the Cynosure.

“We’re waiting for a Kara Nilur?” he said in a clipped voice. “I’m sorry, miss, but if she doesn’t come to the door now we’ll have to leave.”

Kara smiled sheepishly at Gale, kissed him once more on the cheek, and hurried away.

“I’m going to tell the whole of Waterdeep about us, Gale Dekarios,” she shouted over her shoulder with a laugh, giddy from the night and the Weave and the balcony and him, as the footman rolled his eyes and shut the door behind her.

Chapter Text

Kara’s words rang gloriously in Gale’s ears, like the peal of temple bells, as he watched her skip out of the door. It had been a long time since someone had that much pride in him.

Us, he thought, testing the word silently, rolling it over and over in his mouth. It was strange to think that only that afternoon she was a friend, and at best a fantasy. Now she was…well, she was the same woman, but she carried a piece of his heart with her. Not only that, she wanted people to know. She had invited him home, and he had heard the desire in her voice, dark and wanting. Wanting him. It was thrilling and petrifying all at once.

It wasn’t that he didn’t desire her in return. It was entirely the opposite. He had always been the one to fall first and fall harder, and inevitably he was the one left with his heart broken. If he could take his time, he protected himself for a little longer. He had been a bold man tonight, as strong as the Walking Statues, but that was Maxan, and the mead, and the Weave. If he had gone with her, he would have been plain old Gale once more, with all his mortal shortcomings. If he had disappointed her, he would shatter as easily as glass.

And yet.

She had been the one to seek him out. She had been the one to pull him against her, pushed up against the wall. She had asked him home. It was far too much to hope that she desired him more than he her, but it was certainly an intriguing thought that perhaps they matched.

She had even seemed proud of him. Proud to be his.

He walked through Waterdeep in a daze, not bothering to change, his clothes from earlier slung over one arm. His body was exhausted, but his mind was fizzing. He looked up at the night sky, seeing his stars in her eyes, not the dark grey clouds that hung as usual over the city. Gods, but he could still taste the spearmint on his lips. He wondered what her real hair would feel like, tangled around his fingers. She fit so perfectly in his arms.

Tara was curled up asleep on the sofa when he made it home, closing the door as quietly as he could behind him. His tower was dark, a little cold, especially after the heat of the ballroom and the warmth of Kara’s body against his. His eyes struggled to adjust, but he didn’t want to risk waking his poor old cat, so he felt along the walls until he reached the bottom of the spiral staircase that led up to his rooms at the top of his tower.

 He ran a hand along the banister as he made his way up to his room. Would she like his tower, he wondered? It wasn’t much to look at from the outside, but over the years, the Dekarios mages had added and adapted until it had been given to him, the most promising one of them all. He had never had much of an eye for decoration, choosing instead to line as many walls as he could with shelves, and filling those shelves with books.

Would she marvel at all those books on all those shelves, touching the spines that were spiralling up with the stairs? Would she look at him, impressed, or would her eyes fill with pity at the old wizard with nothing at home but parchment to keep him company?

Or would she push his back against them, too preoccupied kissing a spot below his ear to care?

Now, there was a thought he would much rather entertain.

Would she run a hand over his chest, light as a feather, making light work of his shirt buttons to slip past the fabric and finally feel his skin below her calloused fingers?

He would kneel for her if she did, then, and they wouldn’t even make it to his room, he thought, as he let himself into the bedroom and threw his clothes over his desk chair. She would have to hold onto the shelves above him as he would carefully unlace her trousers, kissing her stomach as he worked. She would be so soft against his lips, and he would feel her gasp as he would slowly slide her clothes from her and grasp at her hips, pulling one leg over his shoulder, adjusting so his mouth was directly under her.

He sat heavily on his bed, and began to take off his costume. She would taste like honey, he thought, as he undid his jacket and shirt and threw them on the floor. No, she would taste like cinnamon, as he fumbled with his belt buckle and shimmied off his trousers. No. She would taste of something as intangible as the Weave, musky and hot, and he would have no choice but to devour her.

He lay on the bed in his underwear, hand palming at his groin as he imagined her thigh brushing ever so lightly against his ear. He would take his time with her, even as his knees would creak against the stone steps. She would grab his hair as he would ever so gently run the tip of his tongue in a circle against her clitoris, see what wonderful noises he could get her to make for him. And, oh, they would be so wonderful, he thought, quickly pulling off his boxers to wrap his hand around his rapidly forming erection. They would be low and full of song, a new melody she would write just for him.

The thought made him groan to himself as he started to stroke. His cock was already slick in his hand just imagining her above him.

He would look up at her, and she would have her eyes closed, mouth slightly parted, unable to say anything but his name as he worshipped her. He would gently run a hand along her thigh, before testing a finger just below his tongue. She would be so sinfully wet for him, and he would press his tongue flat and hard against her and let her grind onto him as one of his fingers would sink into her entrance. Her legs would shake, she would barely be able to stand, as he would add another finger and curl them towards himself. His other hand would hold her tight to him as she would cry out, and he would drink all that he could from her, holding her in place as she came.

Gods, he didn’t think he’d ever been this hard.

She would sink to the floor, then, laid back on the stairs, and he would move quickly to kneel between her legs. He would bend over her, and she would tangle her fingers in his hair and pull him in to kiss her. He would indulge her for only a moment, but he would start to kiss down her front, pulling his favourite purple shirt of hers over her head and freeing what he could only imagine were the most beautiful breasts in all of creation.

His free hand gripped his bedsheet tightly.

He would attend to them as she deserved, rolling one nipple between finger and thumb as he held the other gently in his mouth, perhaps sucking a little to see if she would respond, and how she would, he would feel her hips start to grind against him as her body recovered, and he would keep moving down until he reached her cunt again, this time with both of her legs wrapped around his head, the most beautiful pressure at his temples. This time, he would devour her, already glistening from his previous ministrations, and she would grab his hands and scream for him as her back would arch and he’d have to hold her in place –

Gale swore loudly as he came without warning, spilling over his hand, the bedsheet, and somehow a little on the middle of his chest.

He lay on his back, breathing hard, barely able to move. He could feel sweat dripping slightly on his brow, his hand and groin sticky, growing colder with every passing moment. His mind was in a haze, too much mental stimulation to even think about casting Prestidigitation for some comfort.

Maybe he should have gone home with her.

Actually, maybe he should check she got back safe. Just for his peace of mind. No other reason, of course.

With a grunt, he sat up, cleaning himself instantly with a wave of his hand and a muttered word. He reached under the covers for his bedclothes, warm where he had laid on top of them. He wondered what Kara slept in. She seemed like the sort to sleep in a nightshirt, maybe, or perhaps some comfortable sleep shorts. Then again, she may prefer to sleep naked. He felt himself twitch uncomfortably, the mental image of her legs around his head not quite willing to leave his mind just yet.

Hopefully it wasn’t too late to Send her something. Unless that was too presumptuous of him. It probably was. She’d probably headed straight to her bed. But her hair had been in so many pins under her wig, so maybe she was still delicately picking them from her hair the way that she plucked at her lyre strings. Maybe she’d be running her hands through to gently tease out the tangles.

Oh, fuck it.

Apologies if you’re already headed for sleep. Just ensuring you’re home safe and the carriagemen weren’t too angry. Think your reply, you have 25 words.

Her reply came almost immediately, and he was probably imagining it, but it almost sounded breathless.

Fuck, Gale, that made me jump. Got back fine, in bed now. This spell feels weird. No wonder you hated it earlier.

I’ll let you sleep, he Sent, cringing a little. There was silence in his head, then, haltingly, she replied again.

I wasn’t asleep. I was thinking about you. Specifically your practiced tongue. Wait, no, I shouldn’t say that, shit, how do I redo this without –

Gale laughed out loud, the noise echoing around the bedroom. It was almost exactly the sort of clumsy thing he’d expect himself to do, not her.

Good night, Kara. Pleasant dreams. Although it sounds like you’re having those already. He considered his next sentence very carefully. I was also thinking along those lines on my return home.

Great minds think alike. Sweet dreams, Professor. Try not to miss me too much before tenthday. I’ll be thinking of you until then.

This time, he heard her voice catch.

Chapter Text

Kara sat in the drawing room of Edmur’s house, fidgeting with her skirts, looking anxiously out the window even though Gale still had ten minutes before he even needed to be there.

Coffee with Quinn the day before had been wonderful and excruciatingly embarrassing all at once. The halfling had actually screeched in excitement when she’d told her what had happened on the balcony. Kara had somehow managed not to tell her about the whole Sending debacle afterwards, though she had no doubt Quinn would get it out of Gale next time she saw him.

She had barely slept the past two days, too excited to go on her first official date with him. She had no idea what he had planned, though Quinn had made a bet with her that it would be to a library.

“He wouldn’t be that much of a cliché,” Kara had said, but Quinn had made her shake on it and promise to fork out a gold coin if at any point they went into one.

It had taken her almost an hour to get dressed, but she had finally settled on her purple shirt from her very first day at The Paper Plane and a multilayered black skirt, along with a comfortable pair of black ankle boots. Formal enough if they went to any of their usual tavern hangouts, and a callback to their first meeting. It was a nice enough day (and practically tropical for this time of year in Waterdeep) but she had tied a cropped cardigan around her waist just in case. She wished Naivara were here to help tame her hair, but she’d spent so long choosing what to wear that she didn’t fancy the arm workout of any sort of hair braiding. Instead, she’d just stolen one of Naivara’s silver headbands to keep it out of her eyes.

She spotted him turning onto the street. He was wearing his special occasion jumper again. He caught her eye through the window and gave her the sweetest little nervous wave. She jumped out her sofa, grabbing her shoulder bag and keys and barrelling out the door just as he reached the porch.

“I’m going to kiss you hello now,” she said quickly, and before Gale had the chance to respond she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. She heard him grunt a little in surprise, before smiling under her mouth and returning the kiss in kind, hands coming to a rest on her waist. An impish corner of her brain considered dragging him inside by the collar of his jumper, but she remembered they were supposed to not be rushing, and by this point she should probably take a breath.

“Hi,” she said, pulling away from him and running a thumb over his cheek. His face was flushed, his pupils so dilated his eyes were almost entirely black. He had such a dopey grin on his face that Kara had to fight not to laugh.

“Hello,” he said, not quite capable of full sentences yet. He looked her up and down appreciatively, and Kara noticed his eyes came to a rest right at the neckline of her shirt.

“Eyes up here,” she teased, and his eyes snapped up to meet hers. The flush grew a little more red. She grinned at him.

“Um, yes, of course. Sorry.”

She let go of his neck, and he took a few steps back, holding out his hand for her to take.

“So where are we going?” she asked him, lacing her fingers through his and holding onto his arm with her other hand.

His hands were so soft, she’d noticed, years of delicately thumbing through pages instead of any manual labour. He probably held them as carefully as he held her, running a finger over the words, balancing the spine easily in his hand. Would that she were a book.

She really needed to get a hold of herself if she was going to make it through this without being a complete pervert.

“Lunch first,” he replied, “and then I thought that next we could go to the Font of Knowledge. They have a special collection there that you will very much appreciate.”

Kara burst out laughing. Gale looked mildly affronted.

“Fuck, Quinn knows you way too well,” she managed to gasp out, clutching the sleeve of his jumper. “I owe her a gold coin now.”

“You bet on our date?!” Gale said, breaking into an easy smile. He let go of her hand and threw his arm round her shoulder, pulling her into him. “I’m ending this right now and taking you straight home, you clearly don’t appreciate me nearly enough.” He pretended to turn around, but Kara wrapped a hand around his waist and dragged him forward.

“You said there was lunch first,” she laughed, as they fell into step again.

They bickered comfortably as they walked through the wards, Kara fitting perfectly under his arm. He smelled almost exactly like the new books they had delivered to the bookshop, crisp parchment and the fresh leather on the bindings, but there was a hint of something darker and woody to it. It was intoxicating, and she started to wonder what he would taste like. Not his mouth, she knew that taste, but what of the skin at the crook of his neck? His stomach? …Other places?

She bit her lip and her hand involuntarily tightened at his waist. He looked down at it, then at her.

“Are you quite alright?” he asked, his voice suddenly full of concern, which really didn’t help just how much Kara wanted to drag him into a side alley and research her questions. “You look rather pink in the cheeks.”

“Fine,” Kara said, a little too quickly. “Just hungry, that’s all.” She decided it would be better not to clarify what she was hungry for.

“Ah, now that I can resolve,” Gale said, as they approached a beautiful red brick tavern. Vines crept around the door, beautiful white blossoms across the mantel. A small sign hung that announced it as The Elfstone. Gale held the door open for her, and she couldn’t help but gasp as she entered.

At first, she thought she’d walked through a portal to a forest. The floor below her wasn’t flagstone or wood like she would expect, but a rich emerald moss. There were tree branches intertwined in knots all across the ceiling, probably about thirty feet above her, delicate flowers blooming in every colour she could think of. Four large oak trees marked out the square of the tavern, and Kara realised the trees and branches were growing out of the walls themselves. Tiny blue pinpoints of light darted in the gaps of the branches above her, and through them, she could see gigantic skylights in the ceiling, dappled sunlight breaking through. The tavern was filled with people, thankfully all dressed to the same level of formality as her or less, but Kara couldn’t see very many empty places.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Gale said, closing the door behind them and flagging down a waiter. “Dekarios, party of two.”

The waiter nodded, and led them to a table directly under the oak tree in the far left corner. A table that looked like it was growing out of the ground with the rest of the trees was already neatly prepared, the top covered with a green linen tablecloth. A bottle of champagne was chilling in an ice bucket. Gale pulled Kara’s chair out for her as she sat. The waiter lifted the champagne and carefully popped the cork, pouring a small serving into each of their crystal flutes, before nodding curtly and leaving in silence.

“To our first official date,” Gale said, picking up his glass and holding it up. Kara clinked hers to it with a smile and took a sip. The champagne was freezing cold, sweet and sharp.

“How did you get this table?” she asked, looking around at the packed out tavern. “You must have only made plans yesterday, unless there’s some scheme of yours I’ve played straight into.”

Gale laughed. “I’ve been coming here with my family since before I can remember. It’s one of my favourite places in the city. They’ve taken so much Dekarios money over the years we should be listed as co-owners.”

She looked over the menu, a simple list of elven cuisines with prices that made Kara’s eyes water a little. She tried not to look too worried as she considered which would be the least presumptuous choice.

“Order what you would like, Kara,” Gale said, not even looking up from his menu.

“But –“

“My treat,” he said, turning it over, decision made. “I invited you, I pay. You can take me out next time.”

Oh, but he was infuriatingly hot when he was assertive.

“Rather presumptive of you, Professor,” she said, crossing her legs and clamping her thighs together in a desperate and frankly futile attempt to calm herself down. He had rolled up his sleeves to the elbow. She loved and hated when he did that. “Who’s to say there’ll be a second?”

He smirked at her. “Call it an educated guess.”

The waiter appeared at their table, and they ordered, Kara the venison skewers, Gale the spiced silverfin. They quickly fell into easy conversation about everything and nothing, barely pausing when the food arrived, occasionally taking breaks to eat before resuming. It felt exactly the same as it always had, Gale excited to explain some facet to her, Kara asking questions, or when she could, eager to expand on areas he knew less on. She loved the gleam in his eye when she told him something he didn’t know. That spark of knowledge gained, to be filed away until he could impart it to someone else. It was precious.

The difference now, of course, was that sometimes he’d rub the back of his neck, and the veins on his forearm would pop just a tiny bit more prominent, and Kara would start thinking about those same forearms holding himself up over her.

Gale looked at the clock on the wall as they finished their meals, and before the waiter had even come to clear the plates, headed straight to the bartender to settle their bill.

“Sorry to rush, but I promised Caitlin we’d be at the Font before two,” he said, taking her hand to help her up. The two glasses of champagne she’d drunk was bubbling delightfully in her chest.

“All very mysterious,” she said, as he hurried her out of the tavern and through the streets, still holding her hand. “I thought you were just going to spend the afternoon reading dusty old tomes to me. Surely they aren’t going anywhere.”

He smiled at her. “Our third date, perhaps.”

“If you’re reading anything to me,” she said quietly, leaning in so as not to be heard by passersby, “it had better be one of our favourites. I’d love to hear your interpretation of Chapter Twenty of Wilder Magic sometime.”

It was the chapter he’d marked with his purple bookmark, all that time ago, and she grinned devilishly as he blushed furiously. She felt his grip tighten.

“Oh, sod it, Caitlin can wait another five minutes,” he muttered, and he pulled her into an alley and out of sight. He ran his fingers through her hair, sighing quietly as they tangled in the curls, before his hand at the nape of her neck pulled her in. He kissed her, hard, with an intensity she wasn’t quite prepared for. As she gasped, his tongue took the opportunity to dip into her mouth, cold from the dregs of the champagne. She closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around him and held him close to her, the soft wool of his jumper under her hands.

“You are sorely testing my resolve,” he sighed into her mouth, not quite breaking contact. She opened her eyes to look at him. “Please stop being so damn tempting.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” she said, running a hand dangerously low down his back and across his belt.

There was that surprised look again, the same as before she’d left the Cynosure. As if it was a shock to him that he could be lusted after, that he could be wanted just as much, if not more. It passed in a moment, but she was determined to be rid of it.

“As fun as this is,” she said, kissing just under his ear and enjoying the momentary wobble she felt in his legs, “I seem to recall a very pressing appointment.”

He groaned, tilting her chin up with a knuckle and kissing her again, but this time, only a quick stamp on her lips. He took her hand and led her back onto the street. “At least one of us has some self restraint.”

Not if I had my way, Kara thought, but she kept that to herself.

She had walked past the Font of Knowledge countless times. It was an imposing building on the edge of the city, just around the corner from Blackstaff Tower and The Paper Plane.  Built out of gleaming white marble, it had always reminded her a little of the Stormshore Tabernacle, white pillars and domed towers looming over the surrounding buildings. It looked completely out of place next to the buildings that had sprung up around it, save maybe for the Blackstaff Tower. Technically, the Font was part of the Temple of Oghma, but the priests welcomed anyone in search for knowledge regardless of their faith, and the library had such a large collection that it took up most of the building.

The statue of Oghma stood proud above them as they climbed the steps up to the entrance. It was a  handsome statue of a man in a resplendent tabard and cummerbund, depicted playing his yarting, an open smile carved on his face. Kara wondered if Gale was trying to butter her up somehow by bringing her to the temple of the patron of all bards.

They entered through the gigantic oak doors, and Kara was hit with the overwhelming smell of thousands upon thousands of books.

The Sanctum stretched for what looked to be miles, but it was hard to tell, with rows of shelves standing maybe ten feet above her in every direction.  Near the nave, there was a much smaller version of the statue outside behind a stone altar. The altar itself was covered in parchment, offerings of knowledge or song or art from his worshippers. A stack of blank parchment stood neatly with ink and quill on a small desk next to it.

Gale led her straight past the statue and through the maze of shelves, turning left and right, familiar with the layout. More of the shelves they were walking past were behind glass now, with no visible locks. They were clearly reaching the more restricted areas of the library.

Ahead, a tiefling woman who she could only assume was Caitlin was leaning against a much smaller door, huffing as she inspected her fingernails. Besides her was a table with a sign in book, along with a stack of gloves and black protective robes.

“You told me two, Dekarios,” she said, glaring at him as they approached. “You know there are strict rules about special collection access and I’m already breaking some of them just letting you both in here.”

She handed them each a pair of gloves and a robe. Kara put them on, giving Gale a questioning look, but he just grinned at her. The gloves were rich white cotton, smooth against her skin.

“My apologies, Caitlin. I appreciate your help arranging this at short notice,” Gale said, as Caitlin scoffed and unlocked the door, lighting the torches with an irritated wave of her hand. They flickered dimly, revealing a small side room filled with glass display cabinets.

Were those instruments?

“I’m surprised you requested access to the Bardic archives,” Caitlin said, carefully closing the door behind them. “Doesn’t seem to match the rest of your usual research.”

Kara walked slowly to the first case she could see, which held a delicately crafted golden lyre, tiny symbols of Mystra stamped into the metal, on a stand of light wood carved into intertwining vines. She could feel the magic humming in it, even through the glass and her gloves, as she gently pressed a finger to the case. The Lyre of The Bard of Shadowdale was written in neat script on a label next to it.

Caitlin appeared next to her with a set of keys and moved to open the case.

“You can take it out?” she blurted out.

“Well, you can hardly inspect it properly behind the glass,” Caitlin said. “Why do you think you’re wearing the gloves?”

And before Kara could object, Caitlin had opened the case, lifted the lyre from its stand, and placed it into Kara’s hands.

She held it away from her, not able to bring herself to move, in case she dropped a priceless piece of history. Storm Silverhand herself had made this, played this, before Mystra had given her a lyre made from a fragment of the Weave. She had composed her lullaby with it, played it for the Mother of Magic as her consort sat by her feet. She had no right to hold something this precious, but here she was, with the most beautiful gift anyone had ever given her. She could see her reflection in the metal frame, eyes wide and wet, lip trying its hardest not to tremble.

She couldn’t bear to hold it any longer, and handed it straight back to Caitlin, who replaced it on its stand.

Next to the lyre was a case of manuscripts, sheet music written in Storm’s flowing hand, tiny annotations in the margins that Caitlin explained belonged to Maxan Maxer, offering advice or small changes or simple words of encouragement.

Next to that was a lute and bag of holding belonging to Danilo Thrann. In another corner, the flute of Volothamp Geddarm, and on the shelf, a collection of his books detailing his adventures through Toril, along with an unfinished symphony Kara hadn’t even known existed. Another case held the yarting of Olive Ruskettle. There were instruments that Kara didn’t recognise, music that she’d never heard of. It was like she’d walked straight into a dream.

Caitlin was fiddling with a drawer underneath a desk, and as she unlocked it, she pulled it out and rested it carefully on the top. Glittering pastel crystals were carefully laid out on cushions inside.

“Which shard was it you were looking for?” she asked Gale, who was hovering by her, content to let Kara roam.

“The Mithral Hall concert,” he said, smiling at Kara. Kara’s mouth dropped open. Storm and Maxan, aiding Alustriel in the Silver Marshes, had given a concert of legend after their hard earned victory. The story and songs went that even Mystra herself had attended, blessing her Chosen with a kiss.

Caitlin carefully picked out a blue crystal from the drawer, which began to pulse slightly in her hand. She handed it to Gale, who placed it flat on his palm and held it towards Kara.

“Put your hand on mine,” he said quietly, “and we will be there in but an instant.”

“Gale, I –“

“Trust me.”

She did. Implicitly. Hand shaking, she laid it on Gale’s waiting palm.

She blinked, and they were in a cavernous stone hall. The walls were glittering with ore, the hall carved straight into rock. She looked up, but past the floating lanterns above their heads, she could see only darkness. Around them sat hundreds, if not thousands, of soldiers in ancient armour, some bruised, some bloodied. They were sat at long tables, in total silence. She looked to her left, and saw Gale next to her, but shimmering, incorporeal, and he smiled at her before tilting his head.

She heard the familiar notes of Lullaby to My Mother, but this time, there were two sets of chords instead of one, and an impossibly clear voice rang out across the hall.

Storm Silverhand herself was sat on a throne of gold. Her silver hair flowed around her shoulders, the dewdrop diamond of her diadem hanging between piercing blue eyes. Her armour was covered in blood, and she had a small cut above her left eye, but she still radiated power. She was taller than Kara had expected, lithe of limb, with impossibly beautiful features. She played her lyre as effortlessly as breathing, barely moving her fingers as the music washed across the hall.

At her feet sat an older man, a lyre of his own in his lap. He had brown, almost black hair, half tied up, with streaks of grey running from his temple. His eyes were a deep brown, fixed devotedly on his consort as he matched her playing. A tiny smile was playing around his mouth, almost hidden by a slightly unkept beard.

She was singing, her eyes meeting with everyone who watched her. For a wonderful moment, Storm Silverhand looked directly at Kara, and almost imperceptibly, she nodded.

Kara heard whispers begin around her, rushing like waves, and she turned to look.

A young woman stood behind her, in plain dark robes, barefoot. Her short cropped hair was shifting by a wind Kara knew had no way of blowing through the hall. Her heavy lidded eyes looked straight through Kara, large and all knowing, and nodded back to her Chosen. Gently, she blew Storm Silverhand a kiss.

As Mystra acknowledged the song in her honour, the singing in Kara’s ears began to fade, as though she was slowly sinking underwater. The hall grew dark, the lights fading to nothingness.

She blinked again, and she was back in the collections room. Caitlin took the memory shard from Gale’s hand and put it back in the drawer.

“Was that everything, Gale?” she asked, her voice rather bored. “Only I have a meeting in a few minutes.”

“Yes, thank you, Caitlin,” Gale said, rather exasperatedly, as they followed her out of the room. Kara put her gloves and robe on Caitlin’s desk in a daze.

She had just witnessed ancient history. A legend, the subject of ballads she herself had played in concerts all through Baldur’s Gate. Something precious few people had ever seen, save for the attendants. She had looked on a goddess. Her. A washed up spoiled little rich girl who now played for whatever coin she could get. That was what he thought she deserved, just for a first date.

Gale was thanking Caitlin again, who was rolling her eyes and demanding the silver he’d bribed her with to bring someone who wasn’t a member of University faculty to look at the collection. This man was either going to be the love of her life, or he was going to utterly break her into a million pieces that she could never put back together, and she didn’t even care which it was going to be.

Chapter Text

Kara didn’t say a word. Not as they left the Bardic Collection, not as they walked through the Sanctum, not as they left the Font. She just stared ahead, an unreadable expression on her face.

Gale knew he had overstepped. He always did this. This was supposed to be a casual first date. But when he’d remembered the special collections, he hadn’t been able to resist arranging a visit for her. The memory shards held at the Font were supposed to be research tools, but he always loved walking through history, experiencing it with his own eyes. When Caitlin had told him they had the Mithral Hall concert in the archive, how could he not show Kara?

But it was too much. He had overplayed his hand.

Kara walked a little ahead of him, to the side of the steps, and sat heavily down. He hovered behind her, unsure whether to join her or simply leave. He clearly thought about it for too long, because Kara patted the stone next to her, still staring out onto the street.

His knees cracked loudly as he lowered himself down to sit next to her, and he thought, or hoped, he saw the corner of her mouth twitch. He left a good foot of space between him and her, and fiddled with the cuff of his jumper.

“Storm Silverhand was right there,” Kara said quietly. “She was so tall.” She finally turned to look at him, and her eyes were wide. Her face was full of wonder, of disbelief, but as she looked at him, something truly beautiful shone in her. “Gale, that was…she was…I…”

She put her hands to her temples and huffed.

“I saw her. I saw him. I saw Mystra. And the way they played, Gale! The way she sang. Gods, the ballads don’t do her justice.” Her hands started waving excitedly, as she picked up momentum, finally finding voice. “And the way Maxan looked at her! I knew he loved her, but his devotion, you could hear it in his lyre, and when Mystra blew her a kiss, he just looked so proud, and she was so graceful, and, oh, I have to write down what that chord progression was before I forget, because I swear that’s different to how I’ve played it…”

Gale knew this feeling, as he watched Kara, her face flushed, gesticulating wildly as she tried to put everything into words. That rush of excitement when he cracked a taxing piece of theory or found writings that confirmed his hypotheses. He had stamped it down over the years, when people had told him it was unprofessional. That he had to mask it to be taken seriously.

But it was exciting, to witness history the way they just did.

She never masked anything. She just felt it. He saw it in the way she played, the way her face lit up when he walked into a room, when she first met him and laughed at a stranger’s taste in books.

“Can I kiss you?” Kara said breathlessly, breaking his reverie. “And then shout at you for a little bit?”

Gale started at the questions. “What? Why?”

Kara slid over to his side, closing the gap. She was so incredibly warm.

“Because this is the best first date I have ever been on, but these are very public steps and I’m not sure how you feel about open displays of affection. And,” she added, poking him in the chest, “how the fuck am I supposed to top this on our second date, you dick.”

Gale actually didn’t know how he felt. It was enough that she walked hand in hand through the city with him, but he would never presume that she would want him to kiss her where people could see. Mystra hated public displays of affection, at first because she absolutely shouldn’t have been dating him in the first place, and then because it would be unbecoming of them to indulge in such a practice. He was so used to being kept a secret that he couldn’t understand the possibility of being flaunted.

But it had felt so easy to walk with an arm around her shoulders, or his hand in hers. He hadn’t realised just how deprived he had been of physical touch until her. Maybe he was an affectionate man, and he’d never had the outlet for it.

Before he could overthink things yet again, he ran his hand into her hair, closed his eyes, and kissed her. He could feel his new favourite sensation of her smiling against his mouth, as she hooked her finger into the collar of his jumper and pulled herself in until his chest was flush against hers. Her hair was so soft under his hand, and he twined a curl around absentmindedly.

As he pulled away with a little hum, opening his eyes, Kara still had hers closed. He puffed a contented breath out of his nose. The sunlight cast tiny shadows through her lashes onto her cheeks, ever so slightly flushed pink. The greys in her hair sparkled like silver as he tucked the curl behind her ear and let his hand rest there for a moment.

“I could grow to enjoy them,” he said with a smile, as she opened her eyes and met his. They looked like the most precious emeralds he could have ever imagined, full of happiness. Perhaps even something close to love, if he could even dare to dream such a thing.

She smiled, turning her head to press a kiss to his palm. He let himself enjoy the moment, the sensation of her soft lips against his hand. He wondered what they would feel like in other locations on his body.

The unexpected thought sent a heat flooding through his face and neck, and she grinned at him knowingly as he coughed, pulling away from her and brushing imaginary dirt from his trousers.

“Um, yes, so, next,” he said, standing with a groan as his treacherous knees cracked again. He helped her stand, and she stood just a little bit too close, still holding his hand.

“There cannot be a next, Gale, or I’m going to have to enlist actual professionals to plan my outing for you,” she said, giving him a nudge with her shoulder.

“Don’t get your hopes up, that was my grand gesture for the day,” he replied, trying to at least regain some composure. “I thought we could perhaps go for a walk along The Rise. Take in the sea air.”

She took his arm as they walked across the road, past Blackstaff Tower, and began to climb the steps carved into the rock.

The Rise was one of Gale’s favourite places in the city. He would often walk along the coastal path aimlessly in his breaks, breathing in the salt sea air, the whistling winds and sea bird calls calming his thoughts down to quiet. On a clear day, which was a rarity for his home city, he could just make out the Whalebones islands, gleaming white in the distance.

Today was such a day, he noticed, as he hauled himself to the top of the stairs, Kara waiting patiently for him. The wind had picked up a little, whipping her hair behind her. She looked majestic as she smiled down on him. He took a moment to breathe deeply, trying to catch his breath. Those stairs somehow grew steeper every time he climbed them.

Kara took his hand as he finally reached the top, and they slowly wandered along the cliff path, hand in hand. At first, he felt the need to fill the silence, pointing out the Whalebones, telling the story of The Lady Dreaming as they passed another of the Walking Statues, explaining that the music they could faintly hear on the breeze constantly played in the nearby Melody Mount Walk. But soon, with her fingers laced into his, he found himself enjoying the quiet, as he did when he was walking this path alone.

They reached his favourite spot of his favourite walk, a small wooden bench near the edge of the cliffs. As they sat, he rested his arm behind her, as naturally as breathing. She leant her head on his shoulder as they watched trade ships drift to and from the harbour in the south.

He didn’t know how long they sat there for, enjoying the view and the birdsong and the company. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. It must have been hours, as the sky began to turn golden, as the sun began to sink into the horizon.

He wanted to hold this moment in his hands forever.

“Beautiful,” Kara said, quiet as a prayer, but as he turned to look at her, she was looking directly at him. The glow from the sunset caught in her eyes. She smiled softly as she brushed his hair behind his ear, her touch as warm as the sun on their skin.

He found himself believing her.

She kissed him. Simply, gently, with no expectations. Her hand was still on his neck. It felt like an anchor finally stopping him from drifting from the shore.

None of this seemed enough for her, he thought, as he put a hand on her waist, running it up her back to hold her close. She was so vibrant, so full of life. And she thought he was beautiful. For her to see something special in him was astonishing.

The sun sank lower. The air began to turn cold. He felt her shiver a little in his arms.

“We should probably go,” she said quietly, breaking the kiss to rest her forehead against his shoulder. “I don’t want to, but we should.”

She made no move to stand, so he held her as close to him as he could. He could feel her heart beating fast, even through the wool of his jumper. He kissed the top of her forehead.

“You have a date to plan, I suppose,” he said, looking back out to sea. “And I expect to be just as firmly swept off my feet.”

Kara burst out laughing, that wonderful symphony he was beginning to find he could no longer live without, the tension of the moment broken. She gently pushed out of his embrace to stand, pulling her cardigan on over her arms.

“You have an unfair advantage,” she grumbled playfully, as Gale stood up next to her and they began their walk back to the city. He put his arm back around her shoulder, sharing his warmth. She snuggled in slightly underneath it, her arm back around his waist. “Maybe I’ll ask Quinn if she’s got any ideas.”

That notion sent a rising panic in his chest.

“Don’t even think of doing such a thing,” he said, far too quickly. “I really do not want to find out what she thinks my ideal date is. She’ll probably have you lying on my office desk covered in parchment and nothing else.”

“That was a very quick example, Professor,” Kara said with a smirk, and Gale suddenly felt very warm indeed, but he felt her grip a little tighter at the fabric of his jumper. “Was that what you were thinking about when you Sent me the other night?”

He stopped in his tracks and stared at her. Kara cringed at herself.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” she said, letting go of him. “I shouldn’t have said that. That was too much. Sorry.”

She turned to walk away from him, rubbing her arms, guilt written all over her face.

Hells, he was so far out of his depth already. What was a few more feet?

“No,” he said, grabbing her wrist and spinning her to face him again. She made the most delectable gasp as he pulled her close to him, holding her wrists to his chest. “But it will be when I Send tonight.”

She blushed a deeper red than he’d ever seen on her. He held her hands up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles lightly.

“I, um, look forward to that later, then,” she managed to stutter out.

“As you should,” Gale said, dropping her wrists and sliding a hand down to hold hers, striking back out along the path as though nothing had happened. She almost tripped over her feet following after. There was something unimaginably fun in flustering her as much as she did him. When he did take her to bed, a prospect that was slowly starting to become appealing rather than terrifying, he was going to make sure she came completely undone.

At least twice.

Chapter Text

Gale had walked her home as if he were the perfect gentleman, kissing her chastely on the cheek as she’d shakily let herself back in, as if he hadn’t just sent her entire world careening off of its axis. She’d made her dinner in a trance, grateful that at least she had the house to herself so she didn’t have to deal with no doubt endless questions.

She was sure that she’d completely fucked it. She’d cracked the joke before thinking. And he’d gone and left her weak at the knees with his response. So much for thinking she was in control.

She went to bed stupidly early, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for the pleasant buzz of magic that heralded his spell.

She thought of his hands.

Gods, but those hands would feel so good on her. She needed them, needed to have them drift across her stomach, roll her nipple between those practiced fingers, circle just the way she needed him to, cling to her shoulders as his forehead rested on hers or hold her back against him as he would fuck her slowly from behind, those beautiful hands exactly where she needed them as she’d cry out for him.

Fuck, but she wished she could Send for him first.

Wasn’t any harm in getting a head start, though.

She quickly pulled off her sleep shorts under the blankets and threw them to one side. She could feel how wet she was already, arousal pooling in the pit of her stomach as she began her practiced slow circles. She had to wait for him, but she could almost catch his scent still tangled in her hair. Parchment and sandalwood, and that inimitable hint of rosewater and magic.

I hope I haven’t left you wanting too long, my lady.

Kara let out an involuntary moan. His voice was low and breathy in her mind. She tried to focus, determined to Send a message that was at least semi coherent. It was difficult, though, when that voice was in her head.

Perhaps you have, my lord, she thought, slowing her pace so she could concentrate. Perhaps I’ve been thinking of you already. Of those magical hands of yours. Almost as practiced as mine.

She waited for his response, barely moving, desperate to hear that rasp in the back of his throat. Her apex was practically throbbing under her fingers. She needed him. She needed his hands all over her.

Oh, I suspect your hands would put mine to shame. I would much rather kneel at your shrine to offer my tongue’s most ardent prayers.

“Nine hells,” she murmured out loud.

I’ve always thought you’d look better with my legs around your head. I don’t know which I’d want first, your fingers or your tongue.

There was a long pause, and then, as if he was in the room with her, a long, low moan echoed in her ears.

She began to circle faster around her clit. Her free hand gripped the pillow behind her head, tension rolling through her entire body. Her breath was becoming ragged already.

I dream of you, she thought, inhibitions lost completely. I only think of you. The familiar wave began to build, and she kept a steady rhythm, knowing it was only a matter of time with Gale’s beautiful words in her brain. She could barely manage a longer message.

I have been dreaming of your taste endlessly. Your hands tangled in my hair. My name cried from your lips. You are incredible.

The message was halting, almost choked, and Kara wished beyond anything that he was on top of her, breath hot in her ear as she writhed underneath. She didn’t try to send anything coherent back. Just his name, and her breathing, and the sound of her moans as she thought of her hand as his.

He was just as unravelled as her, she knew. Hair fanned across his pillow, biting his lip as he thought of her. Blankets gripped tightly in his left hand as he stroked with his right. She wanted to feel him hard under her hand. Tease his little rasps out of him.

Such wonderful noises you make for me, my heart, Gale’s voice whispered, stuttered and slow.

It was enough.

Kara could send nothing back but cries as she came, hips lifting off of her mattress as she gasped out loud. She could barely breathe as her legs shook, her hand still circling furiously, desperate to hold on to the pleasure shooting through her at her own touch. She moaned as she heard Gale in her head again, groaning her name over and over.

Her hand slumped to her side, and she stared at her ceiling, finally taking a deep breathe in and blowing it slowly out. She lay for a few minutes, as her body sank back down to earth, and she finally felt the nagging spark of Weave in the base of her skull, waiting for her returning missive. It tickled, and she let out a giggle.

Was that good for you, my heart? She couldn’t resist a teasing tone to the thought, even though her heart had soared at the words. Because it was great for me. Going to have to step up my game for our second date.

You are incorrigible, he replied almost immediately. She noticed with immense satisfaction that his voice was still full of longing. Just knowing I’ll see you again is enough. You don’t have to plan anything in particular on my account.

I’m banned from the University and the Tower, as I recall. Rules out your ‘papers on the desk’ plan. You’ll have to settle for dinner. She wished she could see him blush. He was probably deep crimson by now.

I could be persuaded. How’s fourthday?

It’s a date, she thought, pulling the blankets around her shoulders, sleep beginning to overtake her. Goodnight and good dreams, my lord. See you soon.

Goodnight, my lady. I’ll be counting the minutes.

Chapter Text

Absolutely nothing could bother Gale today.

Timothy Perkins burned a sizeable hole in his favourite teaching robes with an errant Fireball, and he shrugged it off, Mending it easily. He forgot that his second class were supposed to have a test on material components, and when Stephanie Lightbringer reminded him to rousing boos from the rest of the class, he simply rescheduled it to their next lesson and gave her extra credit for her honesty. He let his final class before lunch get out early, impressed far more than usual by their first attempts at higher level spells. A few of them muttered amongst themselves as they left, giving him strange looks.

He slung his satchel over his shoulder and left, locking up the classroom behind him, before heading over to the Markets to meet Quinn for lunch ahead of their tutorial. He caught sight of her as he approached the Northern Gate and waved merrily at her. She was holding a paper bag of food in her hands.

“You’re in a good mood,” Quinn laughed, as he practically bounced up to her. “I take it the date went well, then? Are you two courting now?”

She handed him a flatbread as they found a bench. He noticed this one finally had enough ham to his liking.

“Kara’s words, not mine,” he grinned at her, taking a wolfish bite. He really should just start bringing his own pesto. “Though I don’t appreciate you betting on my plans.”

“Was I right?!”

Gale rolled his eyes as she pumped her fist, crowing with victory. She fished a second flatbread out of the bag.

“Took her to the Font so she could see the Mithral Hall concert,” he said as casually as he could, and Quinn nearly choked on her lunch. “I had to bribe Caitlin to let her in. I suspect I’m persona non grata there for a few weeks.”

Quinn did a little drum roll on the table with her hands in excitement. “Gale, that is an insane first date. I bet she lost her fucking mind.”

Gale remembered Kara sat on the steps, babbling, arms flailing, grinning like a lunatic. His heart did a little skip in his chest.

“I suppose she did,” he said, smiling. Then he remembered the evening, and his name rolling through his mind in her cracking voice, and blushed a little before he could stop himself. Quinn smirked at him knowingly.

“And how did she show her appreciation?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows at him. Gale took a bite of his flatbread, trying not to look at her.

“You’re really pushing what’s appropriate to discuss,” he said a little gruffly. “I dropped her home and went back to my Tower, before you start making any assumptions. And she’s taking me to dinner in a few days.”

“Something happened,” she said, polishing off her flatbread and reaching back into the bag, pulling out a gigantic apple turnover. She broke it in half, dropping one part back into the bag and taking a huge bite of the other. “And after the ball. She was being just as cagey with me.” She looked at him expectantly.

In another life, Quinn would make an excellent interrogator.

“Fine,” he said, picking at the edges of his lunch. “Nothing physical has happened, but we may or may not have been making good use of Sending in the meantime. And I will not tell you anything else. So stop asking, and don’t tell Kara I told you.”

Quinn’s mouth dropped open. A little piece of pastry fell out of it, and she quickly tried to catch it in her hand. Gale groaned and buried his face in his hands.

“You two are awful,” she said, starting to laugh. “I am one hundred percent sure that is not what Sending is supposed to be used for, you dog.”

“It should be,” he said through his hands before he could stop himself, and Quinn started laughing even harder. He peeked at her through his fingers with a grin as she shoved his arm.

“So what’s stopping you sealing the deal, so to speak?” she asked him, finally managing to regain control of herself. Gale sighed. “And we’re best friends now, remember, so you have to tell me.”

“Can I take that back?”

She threw a piece of apple at him.

“No,” she smirked. “You’re stuck with me even after I get my doctorate. Once you nab Mystra’s job from her, I’m going to be the new you.”

He felt a great rush of affection for her faith in him. He finished his flatbread and pulled the rest of the turnover out from the bag, taking a bite before he had to answer the question. It was just the right combination of tart and sweet.

“I don’t want to let her down,” he admitted, brushing flakes of pastry from his robes. Something about the look in Quinn’s eyes compelled him to explain himself. “Honestly, Quinn, I can’t take being hurt again. Not after…last time. I can’t be the one who falls in love first and gets left behind. I just…well, I just need to be sure I can be enough for her.”

He could feel tears prickling in the corners of his eyes, and he coughed awkwardly, taking another bite of pastry to try and distract himself.

“Gale,” Quinn said patiently. “Kara clearly really likes you. Actually, I think she likes you more than you her, the way she talks about you when you aren’t here. I don’t think there’s anything you could do to let her down. Besides, isn’t that what falling in love is? Putting your faith in someone else’s heart and their belief in you?”

“But –“

“If you tell me she’s too young for you again I will shove that turnover so far up your arse you’ll be able to taste it,” Quinn snapped at him, patience immediately forgotten. “Fuck’s sake, Gale, I am doling out pearls of wisdom here, the least you could do is listen to them for once.”

Gale held the turnover over his head as she made a grab for it.

“Not what I was going to say, Quinn,” he said, as she grumbled. “I was going to ask how you could be so sure.”

“I can’t. Neither can you.” The bells of the University rang out over the Markets, and Quinn hopped down from the bench as Gale swung his legs over, falling into step by him as they walked back to his office. “That’s the point. You have to trust her. I do.”

Chapter Text

Kara was slowly getting the hang of working at the bookshop.

She still didn’t have the depth of specialist knowledge that Yenril had, but the customers that needed that level often wanted to speak to him anyway. She could recommend a number of titles for each magical school, she knew the best novels in almost every genre, and she even managed to sell a few of the rarer tomes with some information that Gale had given her in their many conversations.

People seemed to like her, too. She had a few of her own regulars who were sure to call in when she was working, to ask her to order in anything she thought they would like, to get her opinion on an upcoming release, or just to chat on quiet days. Euphemia, the elderly halfling who had snagged the final copy of Wilder Magic what felt like a lifetime ago, insisted on bringing her homemade lemon drizzle cake every thirdday.

She also liked that the shop was on Gale’s walk to work, and she could wave to him through the window every morning, but that was completely by the by.

He couldn’t stay away, she thought with a smirk. He somehow had the same lunch break as her twice this week. He had needed to come into the shop to pick up some new textbooks he was considering adding to his curriculum on secondday. He had completely coincidentally been walking by just as she finished her shift the day before, and did she want a little company on her way home?

He had even, apropos of nothing, Sent her again last night. A delicious shiver ran up her spine at the memory.

It was ten minutes before opening, and Kara did her final sweep of the shop, dusting the shelves, noting down missing stock that needed reordering. Aspen set up the till, humming a little to herself. Somehow, they had persuaded Yenril that he was allowed to take a day off.

She saw Gale’s familiar figure out the window, and she waved at him with the duster. But instead of walking by, he walked up to the front door and tapped on the glass. Aspen looked up, caught Kara’s eye, and smirked.

“Tell him he can pick up his order at opening time like everyone else,” she said, as Kara put the duster down and went to open the door. “No special treatment for your man.”

Kara grinned back at her as she undid the latch and cracked the door open an inch.

“I am literally seeing you this evening, and yes, I still want to have dinner with you,” she said. “And you can’t have your books until we open. I’m under strict orders not to make any exceptions.”

“Yes, I heard Aspen,” he said, a little red flush at his collarbone. “I just wanted to ask if we were meeting here or at yours. I meant to check yesterday, but I got…sidetracked.”

“Oh, was that your excuse?” she said quietly, opening the door a little more and leaning towards him. “And here I thought you just liked our late night conversations.”

“I do. Very much so,” he replied, a coy smile playing over his lips.

“Could you meet me here at seven hours? Aspen and I have some extra things to do before I can clock out.”

He nodded, and she kissed him quickly, before shutting and locking the door. She waved at him through the window as he pulled his cloak around him and headed to work. She heard Aspen trying to stifle a laugh behind her.

“Don’t blow this for me,” Kara said, resuming her dusting. “Are you sure it’s really ok for me to use the shop for our date?”

“It’s literally the cutest idea I’ve ever heard, but if you ever tell Yenril I let you do this, you’re fired. You had better leave it spotless.” Aspen closed the accounts book, storing it back under the till. “And don’t even think about having any kind of sex in here, because I have been trying to get Yenril to do me over this till for months. If you get to live my dream before I do I will cry.”

Kara burst out laughing at the pained look on Aspen’s face.

“Tyr’s honour,” she managed to choke out.

The day passed far too slowly for Kara’s liking. She went over her plan so many times with Aspen that she banned her from talking about it after lunch. She checked her bag in the staffroom every ten minutes, even though she knew she had everything she needed.

Finally, she heard the bells of the Tower toll six hours. Aspen picked up her cloak and headed for the door.

“Do not even,” she said, holding up an accusatory finger as Kara opened her mouth. “I am going to the Markets, I have your list –“ she held up a torn out piece of the accounts book – “and I will be back in half an hour and gone by quarter to.” She locked the door behind her, and Kara set to work.

Grabbing Beginner Bardic Inspiration from its place on the shelf, she thumbed quickly through it until she found the instructions for casting Light. She had been practicing for a few days, enchanting the till, the books, her bedside table, anything she could get her hands on. It only required a little moss and for her to whistle a quick tune. Kara found that it was becoming easier every time. She had even managed to dim the spell a little so it cast a soft glow.

She pushed the central tables out to the sides of the shop, creating a square space. Grabbing her rucksack from the staffroom, she pulled out a soft tartan blanket and spread it carefully over the floor. Next, she took the cushions that Aspen had brought in for their armchairs, and tried to arrange them so the floor looked a little more inviting. Finally, she took a few books out of the bag, put one on each corner of the blanket, and began to cast.

It took her longer than she’d meant, but she wanted them just so. Aspen returned with a basket of food on one arm just as she finished casting on the final book. The sun had set, and the shelves and the walls were lit with a soft golden glow. Aspen let out a low whistle as she looked at the set up.

“Here’s everything,” she said, as Kara opened the door and took the basket. “And I got you a little treat too.” She had an expensive bottle of wine in her other hand.

“Aspen, I can’t take that,” Kara said, a little shocked that she would do that for her, as Aspen thrust the bottle into her hand. “It’s too much. And we don’t have any glasses.”

“Use mugs,” Aspen said with a shrug. “Look, you’ve been a godsend to me and Yenril, but I know you’ve been working so hard. Every setback, you pick yourself up, you dust yourself off and you start all over again. I see you constantly driving forward instead of looking back. I’m…I’m really proud of you. Anyway, I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for Gale. So really that’s more for him than you.”

Kara put the basket and wine down on the closest shelf and hugged Aspen tightly. Aspen returned it, squeezing her round her arms.

“Have the best time,” she said, as Kara let go, trying her best not to cry. “If he doesn’t propose to you on the spot I’ll die of shock.”

Kara rolled her eyes as Aspen headed back down the street. Gale rounded the corner just as Aspen passed him. Kara saw them exchange a quick hello, Aspen with a wide grin on her face, Gale looking rather puzzled.

“Why does Aspen have that look on her face?” he asked her as she leant on the doorframe. Kara tilted her head into the shop. “And didn’t you close at six?”

She grabbed his hand and dragged him inside, locking the door behind him.

“Is this because I didn’t pick up my books?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at her as she pushed him bodily towards the picnic blanket. “Because I was planning on collecting them tomorrow…”

He finally looked forward, seeing the scene Kara had laid out for him, and his voice petered out. He walked forward slowly, lowering himself down to a cushion. His knees cracked and Kara stifled a laugh as he let out a little huff from the effort. He reached out to touch one of the glowing books, and the magic flickered slightly.

She quickly grabbed two mugs from the kitchen, carried over the basket and wine and began to lay out cartons of food between them.

“A restaurant didn’t quite seem right,” she said, handing him the bottle to uncork, which he did with a wave of his hand. She held out the mugs, and he poured out the wine, rich and red. He looked dazed. “Too loud at this time of day. Besides, you said the Chessentan stall had the best food and it’s too cold to sit out in the Markets.”

Gale reached forward, opening one of the cartons. Two bright red peppers, stuffed with rice, slowly steamed in the box. He looked up at Kara as she crouched to sit next to him, opening the rest of the food, before handing him a wooden set of cutlery.

“Which one should I try first?” she asked, twirling her fork around in her hands as she snuggled up against him. “I only ever get the moussaka. You’re the expert.”

Gale didn’t respond. He just stared at her. For a moment, Kara worried that she had overstepped somehow. Then, ever so slowly, he took her chin in his hand, leant forward and kissed her.

“This is perfect,” he said quietly, pulling back and kissing her forehead. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” she replied, brushing a kiss against his cheek. “Now, seriously, which one? Because all this casting left me starving.”

He chuckled, and reached forward to pass her a flaky pie. She broke a piece off with the side of her fork and took a small bite.

“Spanakopita,” he said, grabbing the peppers for himself. “My favourite, though I wouldn’t admit it for years when I was younger because that would have meant liking spinach. I won’t eat the stuff in anything else.”

“Gale, this is almost entirely spinach,” she said, taking a larger bite. It was delicious.

“The cheese and pastry make all the difference,” he said with a smirk. He cut a sizeable portion of the pepper off, scooped up some rice, and held out his fork towards her. “Try this.”

She ate directly from his fork. She could taste the garlic and herbs in the rice immediately, a hint of lemon running through. The pepper crunched.

They ate through what must have been most of the dishes of Chessenta, Gale explaining some little titbit of history, or how he would choose to make the dish. Kara hadn’t even known he cooked, but he talked about it like he talked about magic. He had that same little gleam in his eye, but there was something more. Magic was his life’s work, but cooking seemed like it was his secret.

“Would you cook for me for our next date?” she asked, the mug of wine making her bold, as they finished their main dishes and she reached for a box of small honey and cinnamon drizzled doughnuts. Gale hesitated, then nodded.

She picked a doughnut out of the box. A drop of honey slid down her finger. She held it up to Gale expectantly, the way she’d done with the other dishes she didn’t know the name of.

“Loukoumades,” Gale said, and she popped it in her mouth. She couldn’t help but let out a little groan. The honey and cinnamon were sinfully sweet as the crust gave way to soft sugary bread. She snorted as Gale blushed.

There was something about the taste that was familiar. She closed her eyes, and she was in her childhood kitchen, sat on her father’s knee, stuffing her face with the same small doughnuts, warm from the pan.

“My father used to make these,” she said, surprised, as her eyes snapped open. “A recipe from one of his captains.” She stared down at the box. “We used to sneak down to the kitchens when my mother was out. She caught us when I was little and banned me from the servants’ quarters.”

Mallory’s voice rang in her ears, ranting about responsibilities, unbecoming of a family of their station. Gyles calmed her down as best he could, but he acquiesced to his wife’s demands, and that was the end of it.

“What was he like?” Gale asked her quietly.

Kara sighed, unable to look away from the dessert.

“He was…complicated. Focused. Driven. His business was his third child. He inherited it from his father, and he always hoped one of us would take it over once he retired. Edmur broke his heart when he left, and I couldn’t ever tell him I didn’t want it either. But he loved my playing. He stopped talking about me taking over the business so much after a concert. He had me play at all of his dinners and meetings, he’d brag about me to everyone he met.”

She took a shaky breath.

“My mother has never trusted magic. She wouldn’t let me or Edmur have any kind of magical education. She pulled us both out of school when she found out we would receive rudimentary instruction. When some idiot merchant with a grudge cursed my father, she wouldn’t let him see a sage or a cleric, no matter how much I begged her. She kept saying that herbal potions would be enough. And Dad could never argue with her. When he…when he died, he made me promise to leave and follow my own path.”

She hadn’t meant to tell Gale tonight. This was supposed to be her grand gesture to him, some small way to pay him back for everything he’d done for her. Not chasing him away with her pathetic problems.

“He’d be so proud of you,” he said quietly, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Would he?” she asked him, the unspoken guilt she’d felt for months suddenly bubbling to the surface. “I work in a shop, I still live with my brother, it took months just to get one reputable gig and even then you got that for me.”

Gale hauled himself onto his knees and took Kara’s hands in his, paying no mind to the sticky residue of honey on her fingers.

“I got you one audition. That’s it. You’re moving out of Edmur’s soon. You’re building yourself a career and a reputation in the largest city in Faerûn. This –“ and he waved a hand around them – “is temporary, you know it, I know it, and it does not make you lesser. Just because it took you time does not make it any less impressive.”

He muttered an incantation, and the syrup on her hands disappeared, leaving them clean. He pressed them to his lips.

“I hope you know,” he said softly, “that to me, you are spectacular.”

The light of the books began to dim, the spells waning. The shop darkened, shafts of light from the lamps on the street breaking through the shelves. She let go of Gale’s hands and picked up a book, concentrating hard and recasting the spell. She put it down next to them on the floor. The glow cast long shadows across his face.

Sighing, she cleared the blanket of food, putting boxes into the basket and moving it to one side. She shuffled down the blanket until she was lying on her back, head on the cushion, staring at the ceiling. She pulled a cushion next to her head and gestured. Gale carefully lay down next to her. He said something quietly under his breath, and tiny silver stars began to glow above them.

She reached a hand out, still not able to look at him, and felt his fingers lace in between hers. They lay in silence, watching Gale’s stars flicker on the ceiling.

“Please don’t break my heart,” she whispered, and Gale’s hand tightened in hers. “I don’t think I could bear it.”

Chapter Text

Gale’s heart hammered in his chest as he stared at his illusory stars above them, and he could swear they were pulsing in time.

How she thought he would ever do such a thing was impossible to him. He’d spent so long worrying when he would wake from this dream they shared, he hadn’t noticed she was just as scared as him. She had been carrying so much pain and guilt, and an insecurity he knew intimately.

He turned onto his side to face her.

“I promise you,” he said, putting a hand on her waist and pulling her towards him. He took her face in her hands. “I would never do such a thing.” He kissed her as gently as he could. “I know heartbreak all too well.”

“You don’t have to tell me, you know,” she said, fiddling with the collar of his robes as he slid his arm under her neck and hugged her to him. Her head came to rest just under his chin. “Just because I told you.”

He sighed, stroking her hair. The silvery greys sparkled in the dim light.

“I would rather you hear it from me,” he said heavily. She nodded.

Gale had first met Mystra Corwion when he was twenty one. He was the youngest candidate ever admitted to the doctorate program, full of promise and potential. She had praised him endlessly, introduced him to some of the most powerful archmages in the city, offered him extra tutorials and assistance. She was quickly rising through the department, and his research only boosted her already impressive reputation.

At first, he thought he had imagined how she looked at him. How she called him in for meetings when he’d made barely any progress. But then she had invited him to her home, to look through some of her own private collection of papers, and suddenly he became somebody’s secret.

He had fallen in love straight away. She was so smart, so powerful, and for some reason she was interested in him. It had seemed romantic, having to steal moments with her, furtive glances across the halls, secret meetings at her apartment. He didn’t need friends when he had her, and it was easier not to explain why he didn’t come out with the other students or why he was always mysteriously busy. His thesis came together so easily under her instruction, with her help. When he defended it, it was her voice he heard in his mouth.

As soon as he received his doctorate, he asked her to marry him. She had made him wait another year before even being seen publicly with him, to assuage any lingering rumours. Gossip was insidious, but there was no proof of any wrongdoing. She had been meticulously careful, after all. Finally, she agreed to move into his Tower.

He was twenty six when they married. Just the two of them. She hadn’t wanted to make a fuss, or for anyone to think less of one of the most eminent academics carrying on in such a manner. His mother had cried when she discovered her son had eloped.

She had got him his job at the Academy. He was supposed to just cover for a friend one day and fell instantly in love with teaching. She hadn’t hidden the disappointment in her voice that her most promising student for years wanted to lower himself to such a thing, and insisted that if he were going to teach, he at least would follow in her stead and teach at the University too. He had the talent, after all, and nobody could argue with the newly appointed Director of the College.

But he had wanted more, after that first taste of disobedience. He started to venture out from under her wings. He found a tome on Karsite magic, buried deep in the restricted collections of the Font, and found himself fascinated by the implications of a whole new Weave. Every time he brought up the possibility of researching it, Mystra would shoot him down. The board wouldn’t approve, she had told him constantly. He was a fool to even think about it. He was on the cusp of the greatest magical discovery in centuries, and at every turn, his wife would sigh, roll her eyes, and tell him he was chasing a foolish myth.

He had come home one day to find a shirt he had never seen on his sofa, an empty bottle of wine on his kitchen table, and the deputy dean in his bed with his wife.

Mystra had served him with papers two days later. She hadn’t meant for him to find them, but she had planned to leave him for weeks. He let her take everything but his Tower and his cat. He had no need for anything else.

He was granted temporary leave by both the Academy and the University, the University scrambling to protect their reputation at the expense of his own. She told the board about his research as a parting gift. They had almost fired him, the dark nature of the Karsite Weave far too dangerous for him to be researching in secret. His students had defended him fiercely, as well as the other faculty members, he had found out after. He had had to promise to leave well enough alone.

He didn’t leave the Tower for weeks. He set fire to their old bed. If it weren’t for the fact his mother would have killed him, he would have burned the whole building to the ground.

When he’d gone back to work, Mystra had somehow kept everything about her affair a secret, using his absence to lay the blame for their divorce entirely at his door. He couldn’t tell a soul. There were rumours, there were always rumours, but nobody dared ask him, unwilling to risk her wrath.

It all spilled from him. He told her everything, as she laid in his arms, dots of light on her face. She didn’t take her eyes off him for a moment. With every word, his chest grew a little lighter.

“So now you know,” he said, exhaling slowly. Kara hadn’t let go of the front of his robes.

“You must have been so lonely,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

Gale considered it. He had never thought he had been lonely with Mystra. She had always told him they didn’t need anyone but each other. But she was always surrounded, and he had always been trailing behind in her shadow.

“I suppose I was,” he said slowly. “But you have no need to apologise. I have made my peace with it. Or at least, I’m trying to.”

“No more secrets between us, then,” Kara said, gripping his robes a little tighter.

He couldn’t help but smile at the look of determination on her face.

“It’s a deal,” he said. She let go with one hand and grabbed the wrist of his hand that was smoothing down her hair. She hooked her little finger around his and shuffled up the blanket until her forehead was pressed against his. Her body was completely flush against him.

“You’re very close,” he said nervously, as she tightened her finger around his.

“We’re making a proper promise,” she said, a smile playing around her mouth. She put her free hand flat on his chest, just above his heart. “You have to repeat after me. No secrets.”

“No secrets,” he repeated. He felt his chest tighten.

“We treat each other with kindness.”

He swallowed hard and repeated the words. He could feel tears in the corners of his eyes.

“I promise I will never, ever break your heart,” she whispered to him, and she let go of his hands and laid the lightest of kisses on his lips. He tried to say it back, but she held him too close to move away, tangling her hands in his hair.

He felt a tear fall as his hand snaked around her waist.

Suddenly he was on top of her as she shifted under him, dragging him over. He took some of his weight on his elbows, sliding a knee under one of her legs to make sure she was comfortable. The movement ground his hips into hers, and she sighed a little into his mouth. He grabbed at the nape of her neck and kissed her, hard, his tongue sliding easily against hers.

They were rolling again, and now his back was against the hard floor and she was straddling him, hair falling around them like a curtain. He couldn’t let go of her. He had to know this was real. His fingers brushed against the skin of her hip where her shirt had ridden up ever so slightly, hot under his hands. She pulled him up until he was sat upright, head tilted back for her to keep bestowing kisses, hands wrapped around her waist and holding her tight. Both of her hands were in his hair, pushing through, keeping him so safe in her embrace.

She pulled away first. She took a gasping breath, trying to calm herself, and held his head to her chest, stroking through his hair.

“I told Aspen nothing untoward would happen with you in the shop, but you’re making this very difficult,” she said, shifting her hips a little in his lap.

“The first time we have sex is not going to be on the floor of your workplace,” Gale muttered into her chest, his face hot, but his hands crept higher under the fabric of her shirt all the same. He felt the muscles of her back, tight under his hands as he ran them upwards over her skin. “It is going to be in my much more comfortable bed, otherwise my back will never recover.” He paused and looked up at her. A beautiful pink flush had spread across her cheeks and nose.

“You had better get your hands out from under my shirt, then,” she said, holding the nape of his neck and leaning back to look at him properly. He slid his hands slowly down to her waist, and she grinned.

Someone began to bang very loudly on the door, and Kara jumped, accidentally pulling hard on Gale’s hair. He swore loudly, Kara frantically apologising as she climbed off his lap and crept on her hands and knees to peek around the shelves. Gale couldn’t help but admire the view.

“Kara! We got home and you weren’t there! Are you still here?” An unfamiliar male voice was shouting through the letterbox.

“For the love of fuck,” she muttered, pulling herself up on the edge of the bookcase and offering a hand to Gale. “I am so sorry for what’s about to happen.”

Gale took it gratefully, his back aching from the hard floor as she hauled up to his feet.

“I can see the lights, Kara. Oh! Are you here with Hot Academic?” he heard the voice yell, and it started to giggle furiously.

“Oh my gods, Edmur, shut up,” Kara groaned, rushing away from him to open the door. Gale stayed behind the bookcase, feeling very confused.

“Am I Hot Academic?” he asked blankly, catching sight of the same man he’d seen at the Siren with Yenril and Aspen standing outside.

“That’s what Yenril and Aspen used to call you before they knew your name,” Kara said over her shoulder, undoing the lock. Gale suddenly felt quite proud of himself. “You weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow morning, dickhead,” she said to the man outside, who leant through the door and caught Gale’s eye. Gale quickly smoothed down the front of his robes and hoped he didn’t look too dishevelled.

“Naivara’s parents were driving her nuts so we came back early. Said we wanted to spend some time with you before you moved out,” Edmur said, ruffling his sister’s hair as she swatted at his hands and pushing his way inside. “Now, are you ever going to introduce me or not?”

Edmur was very tall, Gale thought, as he strode his way over and began to vigorously shake his hand. And very broad. And he had a very strong grip.

Kara followed behind her brother, quickly standing at Gale’s side.

“Edmur, this is Professor Gale Dekarios, Gale, this is my absolute shithead of a brother.”

“I’m going to keep calling you Hot Academic if it’s all the same to you,” Edmur said to him, and Kara punched her brother’s arm hard. “What?! I didn’t come up with it!”

Kara groaned loudly and buried her head in Gale’s shoulder.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Gale said politely, feeling a flush under his collar. “Kara speaks very highly of you. Usually.”

“You too. Kara hasn’t shut up about you for days. Gale this, Professor that. Nice to see you’re finally doing something about it.”

“Edmur,” Kara spluttered at him, as Gale felt his entire face burn.

“Come for a drink at ours,” Edmur said, grabbing Kara by the arm, hooking her into a headlock and rubbing his knuckles into her head as she tried to bat him away from her. “My wife has been dying to meet you.”

“Fucking get off me,” Kara hissed, ineffectually shoving at him. “Gale, please don’t feel like you have to.”

“I’d like that, actually,” Gale said, and he was surprised to find he meant it. Edmur let go of Kara, who took a swipe at him that he easily dodged.

“This was not how I saw this date ending,” she grumbled at Gale, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “I had this whole thing planned where you were going to teach me how to cast Sending.” She squeezed his arm as she went to tidy the shop floor. Gale couldn’t help but swallow hard. Edmur caught his eye and grinned.

“So did she invite you round while we were away like I told her to?” he asked, and Gale heard Kara audibly growl at her brother from the other side of the shelves.

Chapter Text

Edmur was really enjoying this, and Kara was going to kill him. Slowly.

The three of them walked through Waterdeep, the shop carefully tidied and locked up, leaving no trace of evidence for Yenril save for a few food cartons in the staffroom bin and two wine stained mugs in the sink. She held Gale’s hand tightly as Edmur bombarded him with questions. To Gale’s credit, he was holding up surprisingly well against the onslaught, and the answers seemed to be impressing her brother.

As Edmur climbed up the steps of the porch to open the front door, Kara pulled on Gale’s hand, hanging back for a moment.

“You can go if you want,” she said a little desperately. “I really wouldn’t expect you to stay.”

Gale looked to make sure Edmur wasn’t watching them, but he was swearing up a storm as he fiddled with the stiff lock of the door. He quickly kissed her.

“He’s important to you,” he said simply.

The door clicked, and Edmur threw it open.

“Found Kara!” he yelled into the house, stomping through to the drawing room. Kara could see Naivara lying on the sofa, feet propped up as she read what looked like one of Kara’s books. She looked up as Kara came through the front door, still holding tightly onto Gale’s hand. Her whole face brightened. Kara sighed with irritation as she saw her fold the corner of the page down to save her place.

“If you’re going to steal my books you could at least steal a bookmark to go with it,” she grumbled, and she could have sworn she heard Gale’s breath catch a little in his throat.

“Couldn’t find one,” Naivara snarked back. “Hi, Gale. I’m Naivara. Forgive me if I don’t get up.” Edmur planted a kiss on his wife’s cheek and then on her stomach, before turning to raid the small drinks cabinet in the corner.

“What’s your poison, Professor?” he asked over his shoulder. “We have terrible whiskey, terrible port, or terrible vodka.”

“Terrible whiskey sounds great.”

Edmur pulled three glasses out and filled them each with generous measures, before straightening up and handing two of them to Kara. She passed one to Gale before perching on the arm of an armchair and patting the cushion next to her. Gale sat awkwardly on the edge of the chair.

Edmur put his glass on the coffee table and lifted his wife’s shoulders so he could slide under them onto the sofa, letting her flop unceremoniously onto his side as he threw an arm around her.

“So you work at the University and the Academy?” he asked, sipping at his whiskey. “How did you get into that?”

“Fell in love with teaching during my doctorate,” Gale said easily, and Kara could tell this was a practiced answer to a much more complicated question. “I mostly teach preparatory classes at the Academy, getting the older years ready for the transition to further study if that’s what they wish. The majority of them are headed either to Waterdeep or the colleges in Baldur’s Gate.”

“And you’re a doctorate advisor? If you don’t mind me saying, you seem young for that job.”

Kara noticed with a little bit of amusement that Gale’s chest puffed with pride.

“I happen to be a very accomplished mage, if Kara didn’t mention that,” he said with a wink, the wine and the whiskey clearly going to his head. She snorted and put an arm around his shoulder as he leant his on her leg. Her fingers played in his hair a little.

Sometimes, her brother could be pleasant company, she thought, as Edmur and Gale chatted amiably about what being an academic advisor entailed. Not very often, but sometimes. Naivara caught her eye and smiled knowingly. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, it was really, really important to her that Edmur liked Gale.

“You must have a hobby, though,” Edmur said to Gale. “Can’t be books and spells all the time for you, surely.”

“I’m partial to lanceboard,” Gale said. “And, um, I started baking this Highsun holidays to pass the time.”

Edmur’s eyes lit up. Naivara groaned. Kara looked down at Gale, surprised, and he grinned sheepishly.

“Had to fill my hours somehow,” he said quietly, and Kara felt a sad pull at her heartstrings imagining Gale in a kitchen full of pastries and nobody to share them with.

“Why would you say that?” Naivara grumbled at Gale. “We have so many fucking jars of goop in our kitchen already and now I have to listen to him bang on about acidity levels again when I just got him to stop.”

“They are my sourdough starters, and they are my babies,” Edmur said, sounding pained.

“I am growing your baby,” Naivara said, her voice dangerously low. “Do not call the goop your babies.”

“You have sourdough starters?” Gale said, sitting up a little straighter. “When do you feed yours? I find if I don’t do it first thing in the morning they don’t get to the right temperature over the day.”

“Total myth,” Edmur said with a grin. “I tried to feed them all at different times once to see if it made a difference, and it didn’t matter a bit. I do it last thing at night now.”

“Have you ever tried making cinnamon rolls with them?” Gale asked excitedly, leaning forward, arm sliding out of Kara’s lap. “They’re really quite something.”

“Now there’s a thought,” Edmur said, intrigued. “And I thought I was being creative with sourdough stuffing.”

Naivara sighed. “I cannot eat any more fucking sourdough,” she said over Edmur’s arm to Kara. “Please make them stop.”

“You loved the sourdough stuffing!” Edmur said, pretending to be offended, wrapping both his arms around Naivara and kissing her cheek as she tried to push him off her. He grinned and kissed her neck. “You love all of my stuffing!”

Naivara smacked his arm as Kara laughed. “Not in front of Gale, thank you,” she admonished, but she was fighting down a grin to match. Gale’s arm leant on Kara’s leg again. “Kara, I am begging you, take the goop with you tomorrow. I will pay you to take it.”

“Tomorrow?” Gale questioned, looking up at her. “To work?”

“I move out tomorrow,” she said, smoothing his hair back. “Took the morning off to do it. I don’t have much, it shouldn’t be too difficult to stuff it in a carriage across town.”

“I don’t have any classes tomorrow morning, if you would like any help,” he said. Edmur and Naivara shared a look that Kara did not like in the slightest.

“Gale,” she said quietly, “you’d be back late to yours and have to traipse all the way over here again on your morning off. Don’t worry about it.”

“He could always sleep over,” Edmur said with a grin. Gale flushed bright red. “I’ve got some spare nightclothes. You’d just need to keep it down.”

Kara felt Gale’s hand tighten on her thigh. She gritted her teeth, ready to admonish her brother, but Gale spoke first.

“It would make sense,” he said, and she almost dropped her glass on him in shock. “I can head back to mine once you’re settled and change for work. Won’t hear the end of it from the undergrads if I turned up in last night’s robes. And it’s already pretty late,” he said, looking at the clock. Kara realised that it was well past a time that she would feel comfortable letting Gale walk home by himself.

She leant forward so only Gale could hear her, as Naivara stretched, yawning heavily and heaving herself off the sofa to head up to bed.

“We’ll just sleep,” she said quietly, and she saw the tension in his shoulders begin to dissipate. “No rush, remember. Also, my bed is going to play havoc on your back. Sorry.”

Edmur stood, trying to put an arm around his wife to help her through, but Naivara waved him away irritably.

“Will you stop fussing like a fucking mother hen, I am fine,” she grumbled. “I’ll put the nightclothes on your bed, Kara, just make sure everywhere downstairs is locked up.”

Kara slid heavily onto Gale’s lap as they left the room, bickering all the way up the stairs.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked Gale, pushing his hair back off his forehead. “We can try and find a carriage to take you home if you aren’t completely comfortable.”

“I think I’d quite like it, actually,” Gale said softly, playing with her hair in return. “And Tara’s been fed, I’ll just get Quinn to swing by in the morning and let her out.”

“You know that means she’ll know you didn’t come home.”

Gale considered this for a moment.

“I’ll ask a neighbour.”

Chapter Text

Gale followed Kara up the stairs, not quite sure if he’d made the best or worst decision of the day.

He wanted to fall asleep in her arms. To wake up and have her be the first thing his bleary eyes saw. To share those early moments of the day before facing the world. But as riled up as they had been on the floor of the shop, he still needed just a little more time before they approached intimacy. And, really, he needed to be in his own house to feel just a bit more in control.

And even with all the evidence in his favour, he wanted to be absolutely certain it was what she wanted too.

Kara pushed open the door. Her bedroom was plain, a simple double bed with navy blue bedding pushed into a corner. Three trunks were lined in a row at the foot of the bed, filled no doubt with the contents of the now empty mahogany bookcase and armoire. She went to brush her teeth as Gale stood in the centre of the bedroom, not quite sure what to do with himself.

He saw a set of dark purple pyjamas folded neatly at the end of the bed next to an extra set of pillows, but he wasn’t sure if they were for him or they were hers, and he didn’t want to touch them just in case. Kara came back in, gave him an odd look, and threw back the blankets, digging around before finally finding a light blue camisole and tiny looking sleep shorts.

That was just unfair, Gale thought, as she casually tossed him the purple set and he ducked out to change in the bathroom.

He took a long, hard look at himself in the mirror as he pulled the shirt over his head. It was far too big on him, but he had to admit there was something quite comforting in that. He hoped the ties of the trousers would pose less of a problem.

He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced as it caught on a tangle. Looking round the bathroom, he spotted a small pile of hair ties by the sink, and quickly tied it into a ponytail. It would hold until he got home and brushed it properly. A very nervous man looked back at him from the mirror.

It took wrangling the laces tightly and double knotting them for the trousers to stay up, and he had just managed to get them to stay put when there was a quiet knock.

“There’s spare toothbrushes in the cupboard under the sink,” Kara said through the door, and Gale silently thanked the gods that he didn’t have to worry about morning breath on top of everything else.

She was already in bed by the time he returned, closing the door quietly behind him. Her hair was piled up on top on her head in a messy bun, and the camisole straps threatened to fall off her shoulders as she shuffled over to let him in.

“Left or right?” she asked him, as he sat gingerly next to her. He looked at her, confused. “What side of the bed do you want?”

“Oh.” He probably should have figured that one out for himself. “Um. Left, I think.”

“Well, if you change your mind in the night, let me know.” Gale tried very hard not to think about her climbing over him in those very small, very lacy sleep shorts. He swung his legs into the bed and carefully laid his head on the pillow as she pulled the blankets over them. It wasn’t as comfortable as his mattress, but it was nowhere near as bad as Kara had made it out to be. She was still sat up, pillows behind her back, and he realised she was holding a book in her hands. “You don’t mind, do you? I’ve sort of gotten into the habit.”

He shook his head. Now that he was cocooned in soft blankets, and the wine and whiskey swam in his head, he felt exhausted. He turned onto his side to face her and stifled a yawn as she stroked the hair at his temple.

“Apologies,” he said sleepily, fighting not to close his eyes, as she smiled down on him.

“No need,” she said, tucking an errant lock of hair behind his ear. “You sleep. I’ll join you after a few pages anyway.”

She opened her book, carefully removing a familiar looking bookmark and slipping it in the back cover.

“I’ve been looking for that,” Gale mumbled, just about managing to lift an arm and give her a gentle push to her side.

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean,” she said innocently, turning the page without looking at him. It all felt like some impossible dream. He was drifting off to a beautiful, peaceful sleep. She was so warm next to him. He found himself gravitating to it.

Without opening his eyes, he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head just by her hip. Her left hand started smoothing through his hair again.

“You can have it,” he mumbled. “You can have all of it.”

Kara said something back to him, but he was too far into sleep to hear her.

For once, he didn’t dream. He didn’t see the wine bottle on the kitchen table. He didn’t hear the gasps through his bedroom door. He just drifted through darkness. His brain, ever working, always turning, finally, wonderfully, let him rest.

He wasn’t sure what woke him up.

It was still dark. His eyes opened slowly, disturbed by he didn’t know what, and for a second he had no idea where he was. Someone was curled into his chest, someone who was currently mumbling something in her sleep about pastries.

Oh.

Her bun had come apart a little, wayward curls breaking free of their ties to sprawl out around her. She had burrowed her head under his chin, still shifting a little in her sleep. There was a tiny half smile on her mouth as her hands ran across his chest and held his shirt. His arm had somehow found its way under her neck and around her shoulders, the other resting lightly on her waist. The camisole had ridden up, dangerously close to the underside of her breasts.

He tried to move away from her, as gently as he could, but she let out a sleepy protesting noise and gripped the fabric in her hands tighter. He settled for carefully pulling down her shirt. His hand grazed over the skin at her waist. He couldn’t help but let it rest under the silk.

Her eyes fluttered half open at the movement.

“Hi,” she said sleepily. “Is it time to get up?”

“Not yet,” he replied. She gave a happy little sigh and snuggled into him. “You were talking in your sleep and it woke me up.”

“Doughnuts,” she mumbled, turning over and pulling his arms around her. Gale did his best to think of all the material components required for his most complicated spells. She held his hands in hers, one arm across her stomach, one around her shoulders. She had him wrapped so tight to her as she curled up on her side, mercifully pulling her hips away from his before she could feel him harden against her back.

She kissed his forearm. “Love you.”

And before Gale could say anything else, she was snoring lightly in his embrace.

Chapter Text

Kara woke up to Gale’s arms around her, his breath tickling the hair behind her ear, and a light knocking on her door.

She had never slept so deeply in her life. She’d had the most wonderful dream, Gale feeding her loukoumades by a mossy riverbank, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as she lay under him and sucked the honey from his fingers. They had professed their love for each other under a blanket of stars, as the Weave wrapped around them, entangled together, the ground falling away until there was nothing by the constellations.

It was absolutely too soon for love, but it couldn’t hurt to dream about it. And oh, it was wonderful to wake up in his arms.

She turned over and propped herself up on one elbow, gently taking his arm off her shoulder and putting it on her pillow.

“Kara? You’ve got about an hour before the carriage gets here,” Naivara said through the door. Gale cracked one eye open and sighed.

“Thanks,” Kara called back, and Gale groaned a little at the noise, burying his face in his pillow. Kara had always suspected the man was not a morning person, given how close to nine hours she had seen him rush by the shop most days on his way to work. She bent down and kissed the top of his head.

“You’re the one who offered to help,” she teased, shimmying back down next to him and poking him lightly in the nose.

“I didn’t sleep well,” he said, turning his face into the pillow with a huff.

“How come?” she asked him, but he only shrugged his shoulders, ponytail bobbing with the movement. She twirled the hair around in her hand absentmindedly. It was softer than she expected.  “I’m going to go make some tea. You can have five more minutes.”

She straddled his back as she climbed over him, enjoying the little hitch in his breathing more than she should. Grabbing a robe from the back of the door, she wrapped it around herself as she padded down the stairs barefoot to the kitchen. Naivara was brewing a large pot of tea, leaning heavily on the counter.

“No Edmur?” Kara asked, grabbing a mug from the cupboard and taking the teapot from her to pour.

“Already headed to work,” Naivara said, waddling to the kitchen table and sitting heavily on a chair. “And this little shit has been kicking my bladder all night.” She poked at her stomach. Kara saw a shift as the baby kicked back. “At least you stayed quiet.”

Kara flushed, clinking a teaspoon a little too hard against the side of the mug as she added sugar to her tea.

“We just slept,” she admitted quietly, plonking herself down next to her sister in law and cradling her tea in her hands. Naivara slid a plate of jam filled bread rolls across to her, and she took one gratefully. “We haven’t gone any further than kissing yet.” And some absolutely filthy Sendings, she added to herself.

“Seriously?” Naivara said, taking a bread roll for herself and breaking off a piece, popping it into her mouth. Kara sighed and put her mug down, resting her chin on her hand.

“Naivara, he thinks I haven’t figured it out, but he’s scared shitless about it. I’m not going to do anything until he’s ready.”

She heard him leave her room, groaning as his feet padded across the hallway to the bathroom. She thought of him, half asleep and clinging to her as she read her book, and smiled to herself.

“You’re so in love with him,” Naivara said, rolling her eyes as she took a bite of bread roll. Kara’s face flushed.

“It’s way too soon for that,” she stuttered, running a hand through her hair. “And how did you know?”

“Firstly, you just answered that for me,” her sister-in-law smirked at her, and Kara swore under her breath. “Secondly, it’s a Nilur family trait. Edmur proposed to me after a month, remember?”

“Yeah, and you said yes before he even finished asking you.”

Naivara shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a secret romantic.”

They heard Gale’s footsteps heavy on the stairs, and he appeared in the doorway, in his shirt and trousers from the day before.

“Please say you have coffee,” he said, rubbing his eyes and running his hands over his face in an attempt to wake himself up. Naivara nudged a chair out with her foot, and he sat in it gratefully.

“There’s some in the press from before Edmur left, but it might be a bit cold,” she said, as Kara grabbed another mug from the cupboard and poured it for him. He took it from her gratefully, and his hands began to glow a dark red. Soon, the coffee was steaming gently in the mug, and he took a slow, long sip.

The three of them ate breakfast together in silence. Naivara would pull suggestive faces across at Kara every time Gale closed his eyes to savour his coffee, and Kara would frown at her, trying not to get caught. Finally, mercifully, she finished her breakfast and left the two of them at the kitchen table to go get dressed.

Gale looked extraordinarily tired, she thought, as he nursed his coffee like a man possessed. He had dark bags under his eyes, his ponytail looking more than a little bedraggled.

“How come you didn’t sleep well?” she asked him, going to stand by him and wrapping her arms gently around his shoulders. His arm hesitantly came up and held her around the waist.

“You know you talk in your sleep,” he said haltingly. “Something about pastry. Woke me up.”

Kara groaned, leaning forward and kissing the top of his head. “Gods, sorry. I was dreaming about those loukoumades. They made an impression.”

She felt his fingers shift uncomfortably on her back. “Were you…dreaming about anything else?”

He was so nervous again, but Kara had the distinct impression he was trying to be as bold as he was in his Sendings. She cupped his chin in her hand and tilted his face up to look at him.

“You may or may not have been feeding me them,” she said teasingly, bending down to kiss his cheek. He turned his face before her lips connected, kissing her instead. She let out a little squeak of surprise into his mouth as his free hand moved from her back to her neck instead, thumb brushing under her ear. There was such longing to it, like she was the only thing holding him to the earth. She tried to pull away, mindful of the time, but he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, let go. Instead, she felt the hand on her neck pull her down, and she somehow ended up sat on his lap, kissing a man she wasn’t quite ready to admit she loved in her brother’s kitchen.

Chapter Text

Gale’s kitchen looked somewhat as though a meteorite made of flour had hit it.

Kara’s move had gone smoothly, even if they’d almost dropped one of her trunks down the stairs getting them into the carriage. Her new housemates seemed nice enough, the room was perfectly serviceable, and she was now only a half an hour walk from his. But he had been so distracted the whole afternoon. His undergraduates were not the most perceptive, but even they’d taken notice of the fact that their usually stoic professor had a tired grin on his face and barely admonished them for talking over his lecture.

She had said that she loved him. In her sleep, half mumbled, so quiet he had barely heard it. She treasured him. She dreamt of him. He wasn’t used to being cherished, but he saw it in her constantly. It was humbling. It was thrilling.

In that moment, half asleep in the dark, he knew. He loved her, of course he loved her. He loved her laugh, sparkling and sonorous. He loved the grey streaks through her curls. He loved the way she played, the pride she took in her own talent. He loved her quick sense of humour.

Most of all, he loved the way she saw him. He held no pretensions when he was with her. She understood him in a way precious few people ever did.

He couldn’t actually tell her this yet, of course. He was rather hoping she would tell him she loved him first, and this time, she would remember it. But any reservations he had about her wanting him had gone flying out the window.

So he’d invited her over for dinner, determined to make it the best food he’d ever cooked in his life. Unfortunately, this meant trying to create a menu that would be worthy of her, and it was proving to be quite the messy endeavour.

He’d thankfully found the time to Prestidigitate the worst of the mess from his outfit, a simple button down white shirt and black trousers. His paella pan was simmering on the stovetop, bright yellow from the saffron, fresh shrimp and squid caught at the harbour and bargained for that morning. The pan had been languishing in the cupboard for months, Gale never quite bringing himself to make so much food just for one person. His mother had bought him the pan when he’d turned eighteen, taught him the recipe as she had taught him so many others. All of his mother’s dishes were designed for sharing.

“Cooking is how the Dekarioses show their affections,” Morena always said, as they stood side by side in her kitchen that was purposefully designed to feed their army of a family when they descended on her house instead of the Tower. She had no particular affinity for one cuisine, although Gale always preferred her Chessentan dishes. Whenever he came by, she would pile the table high with food, usually sending him home with baskets of leftovers to tide him over.

He wondered if Kara would be amenable to coming with him when he next popped by.

Focus, Dekarios, he told himself. Morena Dekarios may be an accomplished cook when it came to entrees, but Gale had far surpassed her when it came to desserts, and today’s was no exception. Now came the part he always worried about.

He carefully lifted the tart pan from the oven, a protective spell cast over his hands, and onto the cake stand. Watching it closely, he slowly wiggled the sides of the pan, hoping he wouldn’t break it. It slid easily from the sides, revealing the beautifully golden crust of possibly the best treacle tart he’d ever made.

Tara was crying on the other side of the kitchen door, distraught that she was being left out of all the excitement. He could hear her scratching against the wood.

“You have been fed,” he said exasperatedly through the door to her, but that only made her mewl sadly at him. Sighing, he placed the cake stand on the centre of the table and checked on the paella, grabbing a spoon from the side and tasting the dish. He gave a little satisfied hum, and took the pan off the heat, covering it with its large glass lid.

“Alright, alright,” he said, as Tara’s yowling became more insistent. “You still have to stay out there, hold on.”

He opened the door and stuck a foot out immediately, as the tabby cat tried to rush past him to investigate the tempting seafood aroma. She meowed pathetically at him as he grabbed her and hauled her into his arms.

“Behave,” he said sternly, closing the kitchen door behind him with his elbow. Tara butted his chin with his head in response.

There was a hesitant knock at the front door, and Tara struggled out of his arms, landing with a soft thump on the floor and running towards the noise. Gale followed her, and as he opened the door, Kara rushed in from the torrential rain, cloak held tightly around her, dripping slightly on the welcome mat.

“Ugh, hi, sorry,” she said, kissing him quickly on the cheek before peeling off her cloak, revealing a navy blue blouse (that was sticking to her far too closely), black trousers, and her trusty work boots. Her hair was flat and soaking wet, stuck to her forehead and face. She had a rucksack slung over her shoulder. Gale took her cloak from her and hung it on the rack, before holding out her hands.

“I can dry you off, if you’d like?” he offered, and his hands began to glow. Kara held her arms out and nodded, and he muttered a quick incantation. The blouse turned a much lighter shade, peeling away from her skin, and her hair practically exploded into curls. She pushed her hands into it and shook it out to how it usually laid. A few residual sparks fluttered away from her. Gale fidgeted a little as she let out a very satisfied sigh.

“I cannot tell you how good that felt,” she said appreciatively, hitching her bag onto her shoulder. “Do you have anywhere I can get changed? I didn’t have time after work.”

A loud meow interrupted her, and Kara looked down, startled, as Tara began to wind her way around her ankles, purring loudly.

“Kara, this is Tara,” Gale said, as Tara pushed her head against Kara’s leg insistently. “She’s not normally this friendly.” It was true: usually, Tara would hide under the coffee table and hiss at any strangers crossing the threshold.

Kara immediately dropped her bag on the floor and scooped the cat up with both hands, cooing utter nonsense at her. Tara, to Gale’s shock, began to nuzzle under Kara’s chin as Kara scratched at her side.

“Quinn might have told me you had a cat,” Kara said with a grin, as Tara settled happily in her arms, “and I might have rubbed catnip on my hands before I got here so she’d like me.” As if on cue, Tara flopped on her back, tail slowly flicking from side to side.

“You’re an evil genius,” Gale laughed, picking up Kara’s bag and gesturing for her to follow him into the downstairs drawing room. “There’s a small bathroom on this floor you can change in, unless you’d prefer a little more space?”

“I mean this nicely, Gale, but I thought you had an apartment in this building,” Kara said slowly, looking around her. “Is this…is the whole thing your house?”

“Technically, it’s the family Tower and I’m its current guardian,” he said, as Kara sat heavily on the plush red sofa, Tara still in her arms. “But, well, yes. I don’t tend to use most of the rooms, though. Just here, the old servants’ kitchen, the library and the master bedroom. And the balcony, when the weather permits.”

Kara was very still for a moment, watching him closely. Tara let out a little meow as she stopped scratching her back and hopped out of her arms onto her cushion on the sofa. Gale shifted uncomfortably on the balls of his feet, and Kara mercifully decided to break the silence for him.

“So where can I change?”

He quickly handed her her bag and pointed towards the bathroom by the stairs.

He hadn’t had any of his own guests over to the Tower for years, save for his mother. When friends of Mystra had visited before, they had assumed that the building was hers, and she hadn’t exactly rushed to correct them. He didn’t like to brag about his familial wealth; it may be an open secret in Waterdeep, with the prestige of the Dekarios name and line, but he didn’t wish to add to any preconceived notions about him. Then again, he remembered, Kara had probably had similar issues in Baldur’s Gate, if she was on familiar terms with one of Blackstaff Academy’s most prolific donors.

The bathroom door swung open, and Gale couldn’t help but let out a little sigh.

She’d swept her hair up into a ponytail, a few tendrils framing her face perfectly. She wore a deep purple dress with sheer chiffon sleeves that gathered at the wrist, a black corset cinched tightly to her waist over the top. The neckline of the dress stopped just above the corset, and with every breath, he could see her breasts swelling a little against the boning. She had gossamer thin black stockings on, but she hadn’t bothered to put on shoes.

“This seems like a no footwear indoors sort of house,” she said, wiggling her toes to catch his attention, and Gale realised he was staring at her feet like a complete madman.

“You look…” He struggled to find the words for a moment, compelled to let dinner turn cold and lie her straight out on the stairs like he’d fantasised about for tendays.

She smiled at him, a little bashfully.

“Thanks,” she said, smoothing out her skirt with her hand. Gale heard her stomach rumble, and she blushed. “Sorry, it’s been manic today. Had to rush lunch. I ate,” she added quickly, as Gale opened his mouth, full of concern. “Just didn’t really get to enjoy it.”

“In that case, my lady,” he said, bowing in the way that made her giggle every time he did it, “allow me to rectify this immediately.” He held out his hand, and she took it, letting him lead her to the kitchen. Tara jumped down from the sofa, but he managed to shut the kitchen door before she could follow them through.

He rolled his eyes as the cat began to dramatically cry. Kara gave him a very dirty look.

“She will only pester you all through dinner,” he said, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table, which Kara took. He carefully spooned paella into his best bowls and put one in front of her.

“Ah, and that’s solely your domain,” Kara said with a smirk, and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her as she laughed.

It didn’t take them long to settle into their usual patter, Kara’s laugh reverberating off the walls of the kitchen. She told him about a customer that day who had demanded a very particular book, but the only thing they could remember about it was that it had a red cover, and they were furious that this was not enough information for her to immediately find it. He told her about Timothy Perkins’ latest disaster, where he had somehow Polymorphed himself into a golden retriever in his previous lesson and gotten stuck, and it had taken three members of the faculty to force him out of the spell.

In the back of his mind, Gale knew where the evening was headed. He had been so nervous before she’d arrived, but with her sat with him in his once lonely kitchen, filling it with the light and laughter it had been sorely missing, he found he could barely wait any longer.

“Kara,” he said haltingly as she scraped her spoon around the edge of her bowl, chasing a few grains of rice. “Would you be amenable to a tour of the Tower before dessert?”

She nodded, finishing off the last bite with a satisfied little moan that made Gale even more sure of his decision.

He led her by the hand out of the kitchen and up the stairs, Tara trotting happily along behind them. She ran her other hand along the bookshelves that lined the stairs, occasionally asking questions about a particular edition or collection. When they reached his collection of Volo’s poetry, Gale swallowed hard as he remembered the very vivid fantasy he’d had at that exact spot. His hand flexed slightly in hers.

“Something I should know?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I really like those poems,” he said, but he couldn’t stop his eyes drifting down to her perfect cleavage again. He clearly wasn’t particularly subtle about it, either, because suddenly he felt a hand under his chin tilting his head back up to look her in the eye. She was grinning dangerously at him.

“You’re a terrible liar, Professor,” she said, and the way the moniker rolled off her tongue was far more alluring than it had any right to be. “Nobody likes his poems.”

She ran a hand across his chest, playing with the collar of his shirt. Just like he’d imagined.

Then Tara meowed very insistently at their feet, which was decidedly not. Kara snorted as Gale sighed.

“She’s not allowed on the top floor,” he said, grabbing her hand and practically dragging her up the stairs as she laughed, the cat following them happily. “We’ll just skip to that part of the tour.”

“Whatever happened to delayed gratification, Gale?” Kara laughed, as they reached the top of the spiral, Tara bouncing slightly off an invisible wall and meowing indignantly. Gale threw open the door to his bedroom. He turned to Kara, and her giggles died down as she realised where he’d led her to.

“With you here? In my rooms, in that dress? Fuck delayed gratification,” he said, and kissed her with all the passion he could muster.

Chapter Text

Kara had spent all evening trying her very best not to rush Gale into anything he didn’t want to do, and she was very quickly realising that she needn’t have worried about that in the slightest.

He was barely able to keep his hands in one place for more than a few seconds. First, they were gripping her waist, pulling her into him. Then, they were sliding down behind her back to cup her backside, then one was tangled in her hair as the other one attempted to unlace her corset strings.

Hers weren’t much better. Assertive Gale did something absolutely unholy to her. Her hands were gripping onto the collar of his shirt, then somehow they were sliding up under it and across his back to hold him as close as she could, then she was running them around his belt and deftly flicking open the buckle. She felt him moan into her mouth as he dragged her with him by her waist, still struggling with the corset.

She reluctantly let go of his belt to pop the corset open from the fastenings at the front.

“Oh,” Gale said, breaking from the kiss as she threw it to one side. “Should have realised.”

“You were preoccupied,” she said, beginning to work on his shirt buttons. “I’m sure you’ll make it up to me somehow –“

Gale was walking backwards, leading her towards the magnificent four poster bed in the centre of his bedroom, and as the back of his legs hit the mattress he toppled. He grabbed her waist as he fell, and she managed to put her hands out to stop the bulk of her weight landing on him.

For a moment, it seemed like their actions had finally fully registered with Gale, and he lay for a second, looking up at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. There were nerves, yes, but there was unmistakeable lust in his eyes, and a spark of something else. Something so much deeper.

Then he grabbed at the nape of her neck with one hand, and she was somehow under him, rolled without even realising he’d done it. His shirt was completely undone, and he wrenched it off, throwing it clear across the room before lavishing kisses at her collarbone and up her neck. One of them hit a spot just below her earlobe that sent a jolt of pleasure through her chest, and she couldn’t help but moan.

She felt him smile, and then she felt him pay particular attention to that spot, determined to drive that noise from her again. She felt him nip ever so lightly against her neck. It had the desired effect.

“You’re a – ah – fast learner,” she managed to say, as his hand glided up her thigh against her stockings. She felt his fingers fiddle with her garter strap, heard a little grunt of frustration as the clasp eluded him.

“Why did you wear clothes specifically designed to frustrate me?” he muttered in her ear, before sliding to kneel on the floor between her legs, pushing her skirt up for a better view. Kara sat up, pushing him back with one foot, and he sighed as her skirt fell back over her legs.

“Revenge for frustrating me all this time,” she grinned at him.

Gale was back on top of her so fast she wasn’t entirely sure if he’d teleported there. He pulled at the waist of the dress, loose now that it was free of the corset, and tried to pull it over her head, but he grunted in frustration as it caught on her hair. Kara managed to wriggle free, taking over for him and throwing it to one side off the side of the bed. He returned his attention to her neck, a hand sliding to the laces of her stays. This time, he was much more successful at removing the offending item of clothing.

He ghosted a thumb over her hardening nipple, newly exposed to the air, and the sudden stimulation made her back arch, pressing her hips up into him. She could feel her arousal, hot and roiling in her core, and with some satisfaction she could feel him growing hard through the fabric of his trousers.

“I can’t help but notice,” she whispered in his ear, “that I am in considerably more of a state of undress than you.”

“That is because I have plans, my lady,” he whispered back, and before Kara could ask him just what that meant, he began to plant kisses trailing down from her neck to her chest. He paused for just a moment, looking up at her, mouth tantalisingly close to her breast. She nodded, and he took it in her mouth.

“Oh, shit,” she gasped out, as his tongue traced around her nipple, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. Her fingers buried themselves into his hair, gripping it a little tighter than she meant to. One of his hands was slowly brushing across the top of the garter belt, and the black lace smalls she had paired them with. He lifted his head to look at them properly, and Kara shivered slightly as the air hit her where his mouth had been.

“Eloquent as ever,” he said with a laugh, looking down at her. He ran his eyes across her whole body as he shifted to her side for a better view. “I have dreamt of this for tendays,” he said, quietly, his hand resting on her stomach, achingly close, “but nothing could have compared. You are so beautiful, my heart.”

Her hands were still in his hair, and she smoothed it away from his face, drinking him in.

“I’m yours,” she said simply, and he was kissing her again as soon as the words had fallen from her lips. His tongue darted into her mouth just as his hand slipped under the lace of her underwear. She felt the reverberation of his moan in her mouth as a finger glided over her entrance. She had thought of him the entire day, and it showed.

Slowly, achingly slowly, he began to carefully circle her clit with two of his wonderfully soft fingertips.

Kara gasped so hard she broke the kiss, her entire body instantly flooding with pleasure. His touch was light, but insistent, careful not to touch directly and overstimulate her. She buried her face in his neck, desperately holding onto his shoulders, digging her fingernails in as she moaned wantonly.

“That’s so perfect,” she gasped, managing to angle her head so she could say it directly into his ear. “Gods, but you know how to please me.”

Somewhere through the haze of her arousal, she heard his breath catch, and his circles moved just a little bit faster. Gale might have very quickly figured out some of her turn ons, but she had definitely hit on one of his.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Just like that. You’re doing so well.”

She could feel the tension in his arms as he tried to keep the same pace, but she could tell he was starting to lose himself in the praise. She dragged her head out of the crook of his neck and pressed her forehead to his. His eyes were closed, but they opened to meet her gaze as she moved. Good. She wanted to see his face.

“Such a wonderful touch,” she said, trying to keep her eyes open to look at him. “You’ll have me falling apart just for you, Gale.”

And it was true. With every passing moment, she could feel that telltale pressure build, spiking as he pressed just a little harder.

“Gods, I have to taste you,” he sighed.

Gale Dekarios was not a real person, Kara decided, as he drew his hand from her and shuffled down the bed, kneeling on the floor. He was an angel sent from the heavens purely for her own benefit.

“Who am I to deny you?” she managed to say, before squeaking in shock as his hands grabbed under her thighs and manhandled her down to the edge of the mattress. He began to kiss the inside of her thigh as he unbuttoned her garter belt, making light work of it. Before she knew it, she was completely naked before him, her stockings and underwear peeled off with his delicate touch and thrown on the bed next to her.

The kisses on her thigh began to move upwards, but Gale paused right before her mound, silently awaiting her permission.

“Please,” she whispered, and it was all he needed to hear. He pressed the flat of his tongue against her, and drew it up in one swift motion across her folds, before swiping the tip of it around her clit in the same adept circle as his fingers.

“Fucking hells, Gale,” Kara swore loudly, immediately grabbing the sheets next to her as a myriad of sensations overwhelmed her. “You weren’t joking ah-about that practiced –“

She couldn’t even finish the sentence, just babbled incoherently as she threw her head back, completely lost. Gale grabbed at her wrist, somehow getting her to release the blanket, and she moaned loudly as he insistently placed it on the crown of his head. He hummed as she gripped his hair, pushing her hips up and grinding onto his mouth, chasing each and every high he was giving her.

She started to cry out as the pressure built to an unbearable climax, and Gale set to work. He hitched her legs over his shoulders, hands under her hips, fingers kneading into the muscle as he concentrated solely on bringing her to completion on his tongue. She was only capable of moaning his name, over and over, eyes screwed shut as her whole body began to shake.

She managed to open one eye and look down at him. He met her gaze, steely and determined, and ever so slightly sucked as he drew one more fast circle.

Kara fell apart.

She could hardly breathe as she moaned, wave after wave crashing through her body as her legs gripped around his head, just like she’d imagined, no, better, as she felt the vibrations of his moans against her, matching her. Her whole body was on fire, every nerve sparking, her brain barely able to process as Gale mercifully slowed down, pulled away from her as she released her grip on his hair and threw her arms above her head, trying and failing to catch her breath.

Her heart was pounding in her throat, but she couldn’t help but huff out a laugh when she heard his knees crack spectacularly loudly as he hauled himself off the hardwood floor.

“Should have passed you a pillow,” she panted, as he lay back down next to her, wincing a little, and wrapped an arm across her waist. “Fuck.” That earned her a wry laugh.

She rolled onto her side, recovering just enough strength to run her hands into his hair and kiss him, savouring her own taste on his mouth. His beard was almost soaked through. She had to break the kiss much sooner than she meant to, still trying to get her breath back to a semblance of normal.

He was still too dressed for her liking. Her hand began to wander down to his belt, but she stopped at the waistband. Something about the way he was breathing caught her attention.

“Is that okay?” she asked him gently, running her hand back up to his chest and laying it over his heart. “Or do you need a moment?”

The hand on her waist started to nervously stroke up and down the bare skin. Gale couldn’t quite look at her, instead fixating on a freckle on her shoulder.

“Hey,” she said, taking his chin between her thumb and finger and tilting it so she could see his face properly. “Gale. It’s just me. You can talk to me.”

“You are far more than just you,” he said quietly, trying to turn away, but she held him fast. He sighed. “I don’t…I don’t want to disappoint you. It has been some time.”

“Gale Dekarios, you cannot give a woman a life changing orgasm like that and then be worried about disappointing her,” Kara said incredulously. “You could walk out of this bedroom right now without so much as a by your leave and I’d still shout your praises from wherever your balcony is.”

She pushed him over onto his back, straddling him in one smooth motion, the shock of what had just come out of his mouth spurring her into action. She leant forward, hair falling around them, shielding him from the outside world.

“You have shown me countless wonders, my heart,” she said quietly, hands either side of his head, lips as close to his as she dared. “Please let me do the same for you.”

She felt his hands slide up her thighs, before holding her gingerly by the hips. She gave them an experimental roll, and he gripped a little tighter. She leant forward a little, slipping her hand between them, and rested it on the ties of his trousers.

“You’re so beautiful, Gale,” she whispered to him, slowly unlacing them as she watched him carefully. He made no move to stop her, and she swung one leg over, using both hands to slowly free him of the rest of his clothes. He helped her pull them over his feet, and kicked them to the floor.

Whatever she thought Gale would look like naked did not compare in the slightest to how he laid before her. For starters, he was much more muscular than she expected, and while he had said something an age ago about magic metabolisms she hadn’t really been paying attention. He had grey streaks through his chest hair, which she ran a hand over as softly as she could, her eyes roaming appreciatively over him. Her eyes came to rest on his cock, half hard and glistening. Without thinking, she bit her bottom lip, just picturing it in her mouth, hardening against her tongue, hitting the back of her throat as she’d drive the same moans from him as he did her.

But all in time. He needed to be in control for this, she knew.

“Do you want me back on top?” she asked him carefully, knelt next to him. She pushed his hair back and off of his forehead, leaning forward to gently kiss at the worry lines that were fighting to form again. “Or something else?”

“Back on top,” he said, achingly quiet, and she slowly straddled him again. This time, she stayed upright. Taking his wrists in hers, she put one of his hands on her waist, and the other on her breast, before reaching down between them to touch herself, leaning back slightly to give him the best view.

“Oh, gods,” she heard him breathe, cupping her breast and squeezing. She felt him twitch slightly under her.

“This is for you,” she told him, as he rolled her nipple between his fingers again. She began to rock back and forth slightly against her own hand, dipping a finger inside her folds. She was still so wet from his mouth, and the ache of her orgasm had dulled, ready for the pressure to build again. She let out the smallest of sighs. His cock grew harder, and he pinched at the pebble of her nipple as she keened.

“Kiss me,” she breathed, and he let go to push himself upright. His hands clung to her back for balance as she bent her head slightly, kissing him deeply. She kept the rhythm of her hand, now pressed tightly between them, the extra pressure driving a guttural moan into his mouth. He pushed his tongue to hers, exploring her mouth, the taste of her still lingering.

He pulled her back with him, his back landing heavily on the mattress, her hips lifting off him as they moved together. She pressed harder with her fingers, missing the weight of him, and her core was aching, desperate for him to fill her.

“You’re so good to me, Gale,” she moaned, feeling his hips buck up against her. His tip brushed against her for a moment, and he let out a shuddering gasp. “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” he said breathily. “You’re all I need. Please.”

She reached between them and wrapped her hand slowly around his cock. She could feel it throb in time to his heart under her fingers. She positioned him under her, and slowly dropped her hips, sliding him into her. It was as much for her as it was for him: she felt herself stretch slightly to accommodate him, and gods help her if it wasn’t the most wonderful sensation.

She couldn’t help but swear again, and she saw the corner of his mouth twitch in a smile. And that was a challenge. She was going to have him babbling just like her in moments.

She rocked her hips back and forth again, this time tilting to make sure he could hit the sensitive spot deep inside her, and relished the hiss it drove from him as he grabbed at her waist again. She leant forward, flicking her head so her hair was tossed to one side.

“You feel exquisite,” she ground out in his ear. “It’s like you were made for me.”

She pushed back onto him hard as she talked, grinding into his pubic bone and sending herself a little closer to the edge. He let out a very loud moan as he felt her clench slightly around him.

“Yes, Gale,” she breathed. “Make those pretty noises for me. I want to hear how much you’re enjoying my cunt tight around your cock.”

This time, Gale swore loudly, and she grinned as he thrust up into her, caught off guard by the filth she was pouring into his ear. His pace started to quicken, and the new angle drew a moan of her own, which only spurred him on.

She managed to reach her hand down to her clit as they hit the perfect rhythm, and she could feel herself coming close again.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop, Gale,” she gasped, her other hand gripping the blanket by his head so hard the knuckles were turning white. “Gods, I want to come for you, I want to come on you, you make me feel incredible, I love how you make me feel, fuck, Gale, I love you, so much –“

She gasped both at the admission and as her mind went perfectly blank, nothing but her climax and his moans in her ear, her legs clenching at his sides. He followed her over the edge, clinging to her as he cried out her name, spilling deep inside her. She could feel her tiny little aftershock spasms course through her, pulsing with him.

She collapsed forward, head buried in the crook of his neck, breathing hard as her thighs began to shake again. As he pulled out of her, gasping slightly from the overstimulation, she heard him mutter some spell to clean them both. The magic tingled inside her, making her feel strangely empty.

She managed to muster the energy to swing her leg over and lie next to him, staring up at the ceiling. She had not just said that. As if there wasn’t enough pressure on the poor man already. He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling shakily in her peripheral vision.

“That was…I…” She risked a look at him. He was a sweaty mess, eyes glassy, a rather dopey grin on his face. “Fuck.”

“And you gave me shit about being eloquent,” she said, unable to resist teasing him a little. He snorted a laugh through his nose, and wiped the sweat from his brow. He stretched an arm and tilted his head, and she shuffled over, hooking a leg over his and laying a hand on his chest again.

He turned so they were flush against each other and pressed a kiss to her forehead. With his other hand, he cupped her cheek, smoothing his thumb across the skin. He was looking at her intensely.

“I love you too,” he said, so quietly she could barely hear. She felt herself go very still.

“Gale,” she murmured, “you don’t have to say it just because I did.”

“I know,” he replied, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I wanted to. And besides, you’ve already told me before.”

“What?!” She tried to move away from him, but his arm around her shoulders held her in place. “No! I’d remember that!” She had no idea what he was talking about. She’d thought about saying it, certainly, but she would have made an occasion of it.

“You were talking in your sleep the night I stayed over, and you told me then,” he said, leaning in slightly as if he was telling her the most precious of secrets. “And then in the morning you were telling me about the dream loukoumades and I assumed you were talking to them instead. I wouldn’t blame you, if they were anything like the ones you were feasting on so voraciously in the shop.”

“Oh, you are the worst,” she groaned, burying her face in her hands just under his chin, cheeks burning.

“Given your evident feelings for me, I am clearly not,” he said, laughing, and he kissed the top of her head before leaning away to pull her wrists away from her face. “But I am glad to hear you say it while conscious.”

Love. That was the spark in his eyes that she couldn’t quite place. Even now, both slick with sweat, lying naked on top of his blankets, he looked at her like she was dressed in the finest silks, like she was carved from the most expensive marble, like she was the sun. His shy smile was playing across his mouth again, laugh lines crinkling. The tiny dimple by the left side of his mouth had made its return. She touched a finger to it fondly, his hands still around her wrists.

“The next time I say it will be intentional, I promise,” she said, gently kissing that precious dimple as Gale gave a little satisfied hum. He kissed each of her knuckles in turn.

“So long as I am not left wanting too long, my lady,” he said, and she couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“Maybe if I get some of that dessert I was promised I’ll consider it,” she teased, heaving herself upright and dragging him with her. Her legs were still a little unsteady, and she held onto his arm as she picked up her underwear from the floor.

“You cannot be serious,” he said incredulously, following behind her, letting go to open the wardrobe and pulling out a dressing gown. He handed it to her, and she wrapped it gratefully around herself. Night had truly fallen, and the air was growing cold. He opened a drawer in the base and pulled out a pair of pyjamas. “You couldn’t even wait five minutes before bringing it up?”

“I could smell it before I even got in the door!” Kara protested. “I’ve been thinking about it all evening, you should be impressed at my self restraint.”

“Charming!” he laughed, stepping into the sleep trousers. As they walked to the bedroom door together, he slipped an arm easily around her shoulders. She hugged him tightly around the waist as they left and descended back down the stairs, Tara meowing grumpily at them as she ran ahead.

Chapter Text

The city lights twinkled in the water of the harbour. Gale stared out from his seat on the balcony, listening to the waves lap over each other. He wrapped his thick dressing gown tighter around himself as a night breeze ghosted over him. The sky was awash with dark clouds. He wished he could see the stars.

His sleep had always been poor, whether it was stress, anxiety, or simply being distracted by his reading, but tonight it was proving particularly elusive. Kara had fallen asleep almost instantly when they’d gone to bed. She had curled up against him, a little of the treacle tart’s syrup still on her lips, and within moments she was snoring.

It had the most perfect of evenings. It had surpassed each and every one of his fantasies. And now his treacherous brain had decided to ruin it by denying him the simple pleasure of a night’s sleep next to her.

Sighing, he picked up a book from the little table next to his bench. At least the weather was nice enough for him to sit out here for a while, until he could try to sleep again. Reading on the balcony always seemed to calm him.

He wasn’t sure what was causing his insomnia tonight. He was blissfully happy. He loved her. More importantly, she loved him. They had shared probably one of the best sexual experiences of his life. By all accounts, he should be snoring just as loudly as she was.

But maybe it was because of that. Now he knew just how much he had to lose. He tried to remember what Quinn had said about putting faith in Kara. That was the simplest thing in the world to do, but having faith in himself was another matter entirely. Even with everything they shared, it was too easy for his demons to whisper in his ear.

He was enough for her. In his heart, he knew that. But his mind, his treacherous, wandering mind was harder to convince. Perhaps if he wasn’t languishing in teaching, if he could restart his research on the Karsite Weave, build his prestige to his former glory and to even greater heights. He had been full of promise, once. He had been a rising star, on track to become an eminent Archmage or even greater.

But the truth was, he wasn’t sure if he wanted those things anymore. It had always been Mystra who had wanted more of him, but on her terms, and then when his ambitions hadn’t matched with what she desired, she had tried to destroy everything he was. With Kara, it was different. She loved him not for who he could be, but for who he was right in the moment, whoever that was.

You could be more, his brain nagged. Just imagine. You could give her the world on a string, you could be her patron. You could be more powerful than you could imagine, and she would never need to perform for pennies again.

She would hate that, argued his heart. To be nothing but your glorified songbird. You hated being indebted to Mystra. She doesn’t need you to be anything other than who you are.

He flipped open his book, some bland historical biography on the Harpers he always turned to on nights like this. He would go back to bed, just as soon as his head and his heart could find some peace. However long that took.

A hand touched his shoulder just as he reached the chapter on the Second Reformation, and he started, snapping the book shut and turning in his seat. Kara was sliding onto the bench next to him. She’d brought some long pyjamas in her rucksack (and had cracked a joke about being prepared for every eventuality), but the night was cold, and she shivered slightly.

“You ok?” she asked, snuggling up to him to try and steal some of his body heat. “I woke up to get some water and you’d disappeared on me. Took me ten minutes to find this balcony.”

“Just struggling to sleep,” he said, putting his book back down on the side table. “Lost in my thoughts, I suppose. You can go back to bed if you like.”

“Won’t be able to find it without you,” she replied, looping her arm through his and looking out across the harbour. She rested her head on his shoulder. “Copper for those thoughts?”

He didn’t reply for a few moments, just turned to kiss the top of her head. He felt her hand come to a rest on his, lacing her fingers through and squeezing them slightly.

“How did you picture your future, when you came to Waterdeep?” he asked, hoping to deflect the questions he really wanted the answers to a little longer.

“That’s very philosophical for this early in the morning, Professor,” she said, lifting his hand up so she could nestle under his arm. “Honestly? When I first got here, I never intended to stay. I thought I’d be the next big thing. I thought it would be like Baldur’s Gate, I’d be feted and famed straight away, you know? Get a patron and get whisked away on a tour or something. Not wind up making half my income in a bookshop and my best gigs in a tavern singing filth. But then…I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about it this tenday, and somewhere along the way, here started feeling like home. I still feel guilty about it, wonder if this is what my father would have wanted for me, and I think I’m supposed to want more, but I have a roof over my head, the best of my family close by, someone who I love,” and she quickly kissed his cheek, lips brushing just above the line of his beard, “and it’ll only take another month or two before I don’t need to work at the Plane anymore. Maybe I’ll stay there, maybe I won’t, but I’ll be a lyrist who sometimes works at a bookshop, not a shop assistant who sometimes plays the lyre. Maybe that should be enough of a distinction for me. I don’t want to exhaust myself and chase some fantastical version of happiness when the mundane one is starting to become close to perfect. Does that make sense?”

Gale felt like the world had fallen out from under him hearing her words. He’d spent years chasing exactly that, and for those years, he’d had nothing worth mentioning, or at least nothing that didn’t ultimately belong to someone else. But now, he had friends. He had his students. He had his family. And most importantly, he had Kara. Sweet, wise, precious Kara, who was anything but mundane.

“Perfect sense,” he murmured, looking back out to sea. He held her a little closer to him as they sat in silence. A lone sea bird glided low across the water, its large wingspan breaking up the reflected lights of the city, before diving with hardly a splash. Almost as quickly, it resurfaced, a huge silver fish in its beak. A cormorant, Gale thought, wondering if he should distract himself by telling Kara about the old Icewind Dale superstitions, of spirits lost at sea come to visit their descendants.

He felt Kara’s head bob lightly against his chest, and she caught herself with a snort, clearly about to drift off. She was struggling to keep her eyes open. Someone, he thought, should study this woman, because nobody should be able to fall asleep that fast.

“Kara,” he said, quietly but firmly. “Go back to bed.”

“Yes, sir,” she mumbled back with a tired giggle, which was much more attractive than the words had any right to be, but then she was sliding a hand under his dressing gown and up his chest, and her hand was freezing. Gale bit down an expletive, trying not to flinch away as he stood up, hoisting Kara up with him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, playing with the hair at the nape.

“You’d better be coming with me,” she said, and while she clearly intended it to be sultry, it lost a little of its allure when she yawned loudly at the end of the sentence.

“If it gets you back under the blankets,” he said, turning her by her shoulders and gently pushing her towards the door. He guided her through the Tower until they were back in his rooms and hung back as he watched her climb into his bed.

He turned to go back onto the balcony, Kara’s hand having really chased away any fatigue, but he heard a sad noise behind him. She had thrown back the blankets and was patting the bed next to her.

“Please,” she said, “you’re so warm.”

“Only because you’re a walking icicle,” he said grumpily, taking off the dressing gown and sitting on the bed, hissing as she immediately put her ridiculously cold hands around him and on his stomach. She yanked him backwards, and he acquiesced, peeling her hands off him and holding them in front as he lay next to her, facing him.

“You are magic,” she said sleepily. “Just warm me up so I can touch you again.”

“That is a rather frivolous use of my skills, Kara.”

She scoffed at him. “Stop Sending me when you’re fantasising about me, then.”

Checkmate. He sighed, wrapping his hands around hers and whispering a few words. The room around them glowed a soft red from the spell.

“There,” he said, letting go, and she turned over, taking his hands and wrapping them around her. She was still colder than he’d like, but at least it wasn’t unbearable anymore. She let go of one arm to grab at the blankets, throwing them over their bodies. Within moments, she was snoring again, her chest rising and falling gently in his arms.

Maybe this could be enough, he thought, his eyelids finally starting to droop, her weight pressed against him and the warm blankets enveloping them.

Chapter Text

“What do you mean, you’ve got a gig?!” Edmur said incredulously, as Kara sighed, balancing a cardboard delivery box on her hip as she shelved the new deliveries. “Kara, it’s your first Waterdeep birthday! We’re supposed to go out and get wasted! The baby will be here soon and then I’ll have to be boring and responsible!”

“Did it occur to you,” she said snippily, batting him out of the way with a hardback to get to the conjugation shelves, “that I might not want to get shitfaced with my brother for my birthday? Hold this,” and she shoved the box into his hands as she climbed the ladder to put it in its proper place.

“But –“

“Edmur,” she ground out through gritted teeth, “it is not just a gig, it’s the Medals Ceremony of the City Watch and it is a very big deal. I am trying to do my job right now. Go and bother Yenril.”

“Don’t fob him off on me!” she heard Yenril shout from the other side of the shop. She reached down to take the next book out of the box, but Edmur snatched it childishly out of the way.

“Bet you’d go out with Gale,” he said grumpily. Kara rubbed at her temples with her fingers. Her brother was really trying to push all her buttons today. She opened her mouth to yell at him, but something about his expression stopped her. He looked genuinely hurt that she wouldn’t consider celebrating with him, even under all the blustering.

“Why is it such a big deal to you that we go out?” she asked him directly, and he scowled down at the books in the box as though they had personally wronged him. “It’s not even a big birthday.”

He shrugged his shoulders, but to her shock, she could see tears welling in his eyes. She scrambled back down the ladder and took the box back from him, putting it on the floor.

“I missed the other ones,” he said, as she straightened up. “I’m willing to bet Mallory did fuck all to celebrate. You used to love your birthday when I was around.”

He was right. Their parents were never one to fuss over personal milestones. There was always something else to focus on, shipments coming in, accounts to balance, nobles to entertain. Sometimes, if he remembered in time, her father would take them out for an afternoon, to a travelling circus if it was in town, or to the theatre, or once to Sorcerous Sundries, making them both swear never to tell their mother. Edmur always loved birthdays, though. He would belt out celebratory songs at the top of his lungs, make towering cakes that tasted awful and looked even worse, scrimp and save to buy her sheet music that was far above her ability to play but she’d practice until her fingers were bruised.

He left just after she turned nine, and although he wrote her mountains of letters, her birthdays were never quite the same. Mallory wouldn’t allow him into the estate for her eighteenth, even though he travelled back just to beg to see Kara. Naivara had screamed at their mother while Kara was forced to stay in her room and listen. She was never as brave as he was. Birthdays seemed like a small sacrifice for her life of luxury, even with the looming nightmare of her inheritance hanging over her.

He had tried to climb the trellis up to her window, and had promptly fallen about ten feet onto the rose bushes below, as Kara had gestured frantically at him to run before he was caught by the servants, or worse, their parents. Naivara had managed to make it to the top, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek and a clumsily wrapped parcel containing a beautifully bound edition of the Lliirian Suites. It was quite the introduction to her sister in law.

“Yeah, well, you made up for it by letting me live with you rent free for however many months,” she said, swatting him on the arm, but it had no real bite to it. “I’m not cancelling, but we can go out after if you really want. I’ll be free by eight hours.”

Edmur visibly perked up. “Oh, really? Nice, the Yawning Portal doesn’t even really kick off until ten anyway.”

Kara groaned. Gale was really starting to rub off on her: Edmur’s plans already sounded like they were going to be far rowdier and go on far later than she would want.

“Yenril!” Edmur yelled across the shop. “Yawning Portal this ninthday! Bring Aspen!”

“Hold on,” Kara protested, picking up the delivery box again and resuming her shelving. “You made it sound like it was just you and me!”

“It’s a birthday party,” Edmur said slowly, as if he was talking to a four year old. “You need to invite people to a birthday party.”

“Yeah, my birthday party, dickhead.” She considered throwing one of the heavier books at him, but they were brand new and didn’t deserve that fate. “Don’t I get a say on who to invite?”

“Wouldn’t have thought Professor Geriatric would stay up past seven,” Edmur said mildly, and Kara decided they didn’t really need four copies of The Ballad of Daen Winterbrush.

The week passed without much fanfare. Kara’s housemates agreed to come along, excited that she was finally making plans with them. It wasn’t that she didn’t like them, or that she was avoiding them, but between the shop, gigs, and seeing Gale, she was rarely in the house except to sleep and to practice. They’d taken to making her play in the kitchen, just to have some time to get to know her. Gale had already endeared himself massively by coming over and cooking them all a gigantic roast dinner with all the trimmings, and then insisting they retire to the sitting room while he cleaned the kitchen top to bottom.

Gale, meanwhile, seemed oddly nervous about going to the Yawning Portal more than anything else, once he’d stopped fussing about what to get her as a present. Quinn was just happy to have an excuse to get good and drunk.

She woke on ninthday morning, barely registering that it was her birthday, too busy running through the day mentally in her head as soon as she woke. She packed her garment bag with a simple green gown and gold accessories, hoping it was close enough to the Watch uniforms without matching too precisely, threw her makeup in her rucksack and her lyre into its case, and shouted goodbye to Torthana and Bronwyn as she headed out the door.

The Medals Ceremony was scheduled to last from eleven to seven hours. She had been contracted to provide music for the opening and closing speeches, as well as for the breaks between and for the special commendations. It was a hefty amount of money, and her longest set to date, but Gale had already warned her it was likely to be unbearably dull. Still, the promise of playing for the Council and a huge number of attendees meant she’d jumped to take the job when the Watch had contacted her to offer it, at the recommendation of one of the attendees at the Blackstaff fundraiser.

Four hours in, and she was wondering if she should ask for a bonus, because, just like Gale had said, it was mind numbingly boring. They’d sat her at the side of the stage on a chair that was deeply uncomfortable, but she could barely move, she was so worried about distracting from the ceremony. What felt like every member of the blasted Watch seemed to have been recommended for some medal or other. Waterdeep didn’t even seem that dangerous, she thought grumpily, trying to look engaged as the Captain shook yet another hand.

Her mind began to drift to the night she had spent in Gale’s tower. It had been a tenday since she’d stayed over, and Kara sent a silent prayer up to whoever was listening that his workload would let up, because if she didn’t get to ride him again soon she was going to explode. He had been swamped at the University, finally proposing his own research projects and working with his advisees to begin their preparations. They’d grabbed lunches and walks when they could, but he was so exhausted that she had simply made the decision not to go to his Tower in the evenings. The one night he had come to hers, he’d been so preoccupied with impressing her housemates that when they had gone to bed he’d fallen asleep while waiting for her to finish brushing her teeth.

The memory of his moans ran lazily through her mind, and she tried very hard not to bite her lip in front of every high ranking official in Waterdeep. She absolutely could not indulge herself in fantasising about him when she was on a stage, for gods’ sake. She was seeing him later, in a tavern of all places. Plenty of time to sneak off to a room of their own when nobody was looking. It was her birthday, after all.

She just had to get through the next four hours. Someone had better bring her some of the buffet at the break, she thought grumpily, trying not to look too longingly at the heaving table of food that stood just outside the door.

How’s it going? As thrilling as you’d imagined? Or are you ready to throw yourself out the window?

Kara started in her seat, managing to bite back a yelp of surprise as Quinn’s voice echoed in her mind. She tried to pass it off as crossing her legs, readjusting her arms on her knee, plastering a benign smile on her face.

I am still on stage, please leave me alone. But yes, definitely ready for some autodefenestration.

Oh, fuck right off, Kara, I have to hear stupid words like that from your stupid boyfriend all the fucking time. He says hi.

Kara tried very hard not to snort with laughter.

Does he? Or is he telling you to stop Sending me? Remind him he’s supposed to teach me this spell so I can reject messages.

I know for a fact he’s going to teach you so you can send your dirty thoughts direct, you scamps.

Kara felt a heat flush right through her, and swallowed hard, trying and failing not to turn bright red. She reached for her water as the latest recipient of an accolade walked by her to exit the stage, giving her an odd look. She feigned a hot flush, and to be fair, the Watch hall was stiflingly warm, hundreds of attendees squashed in.

I cannot believe Gale told you that, she Sent, the water managing to cool her embarrassment a little. Tell him he’s in such trouble. Stop messaging me, I’ve got to play again in a moment. It was a lie, but she couldn’t think of another way to get Quinn to leave her alone. She waited a few seconds, but Quinn seemed to have had her fun, and her mind was blissfully quiet again.

At least, it was for ten minutes, before it buzzed again, this time with Gale’s voice.

Sorry, I know you’re working, Quinn’s just told me I’m in trouble with you? Is everything ok?

Even as a spell in her head, she could hear the worry in his voice. Kara was going to throw Quinn down the well at the Portal as soon as they got there.

Everything’s fine, Quinn’s being a little shit. Send me in an hour, we’ll be on a break then. And then, because she couldn’t help herself, she added, I miss you. Looking forward to later.

And if her message had a little bit of a flirtatious undertone, well, that could hardly be helped.

Precisely an hour later, as the Captain finished his special commendations and she rested her lyre back on its stand, her mind tingled, heralding the flash of Weave before a message.

Apologies. Quinn has told me exactly why I’m in trouble. Have rescinded your invite to her for this evening. Will pull all her funding immediately.

Kara smirked to herself. She stood up, groaning a little as the blood suddenly rushed to her legs. Gingerly, she climbed down the steps of the stage, walking around the hall to try and regain some feeling in her feet.

Serves her right. Though you do still owe me that lesson, Professor. It benefits both of us, remember.

She absolutely should not be heading down this road, not when she had the rest of the ceremony to go, but she had caught the expression on Gale’s face when she’d called him by his title in his Tower, and knowing she was driving him just that little bit more insane would certainly help pass the time. Besides, he had tenthday off. She’d let him rest then.

I have so much work to do before this evening, Kara, she heard in her head, longing laced into the words. Please don’t distract me.

Me? Distract you? Sir, you wound me. If I really wanted to, I would tell you exactly what I plan to do once we’re alone. Kara very deliberately planned her twenty five words in response. She could just picture him burying his head in his hands, sighing in frustration surrounded by his papers, shifting uncomfortably in his desk chair.

He didn’t reply, likely because he was actually trying to do his aforementioned work, but that suited Kara fine. She knew full well he was good and distracted now. Her plan worked: the rest of the ceremony passed in a blur, Kara’s mind wandering to her poor Professor in all sorts of compromising positions. As it drew to a close, Kara finishing playing out the attendees as they left, she quickly packed away her lyre and headed home to get changed.

Torthana and Bronwyn were in the kitchen when she arrived, a half drunk bottle of wine on the table between them. Torthana was wearing a flowing burgundy sundress, a myriad of piercings glittering in her ears. Bronwyn, meanwhile, wore a white vest cut low on the sides, a black lace bralette on display, and very tight black leather trousers, her trusty black knee high boots pulled over the top. The two elves were giggling as she let herself in.

“Ready to go when you are, my lady,” Bronwyn said, doing her best impression of Gale’s bow, and Torthana dissolved into laughter. Kara sighed. She knew they’d overheard him when he’d left their house.

Chapter Text

Kara was a menace.

It had taken all of Gale’s self control and more besides to not keep Sending her, trying instead to focus on finishing his proposals for the department. They were all ultimately going to have to go through Mystra, and he could not afford for any of them to have any mistakes, any excuse for her to rake him over the coals. She took a special pleasure in torturing him at work, and he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. And to his and his doctorate students’ credit, they were likely going to be some of his best papers. He was determined to give them all co-authorship, even if it was going to take some argument with the board to do so.

The problem was, Kara’s teasing voice kept replaying over and over in his mind. He’d been so swamped he’d barely seen her this tenday, and his frustration was distracting enough as it was without her playing right into it. She was working, for gods’ sake. She should have been just as focused on the task at hand as he was.

Of course she’d had to go and call him sir, in that husky tone of hers she used only on him. How he was supposed to get through an evening at the Portal with all her friends, he had no idea.

He sighed as he looked over the papers in front of him that had held him captive for so many days. It was good work, he knew that. There was very little else he could do at this stage, save for beginning the preliminary research and raiding the libraries when they reopened next tenday. He had a laundry list of books ready to recommend and order. He was never very good at knowing when to leave academic work be, but this seemed as good a time as any to stop. And just in time too, he thought with a jolt as he looked at the clock on his desk and seeing how close it was to ten hours. He would have to head straight to the tavern from his office.

He’d planned for this eventuality, wearing his knitted purple jumper and slacks instead of his usual teaching robes. Every single person who came into his office had had something to say about it, as if it was completely deranged of him to not wear his uniform on a day he was almost entirely confined to his desk.

He hitched his satchel onto his shoulder as he locked his office door behind him. He would tidy up properly on Monday.

“Burning the midnight oil, Gale? Very unlike you.”

Mystra’s voice crept over his spine like ice. He tried his best not to roll his eyes as he turned round. She was leaning casually on the frame of her own office door, just down the hall from his. He took a deep breath through his nose. He needed to keep somewhat in her good books if he was going to get these proposals approved.

“Just finishing up the first drafts,” he said, doing his best to sound friendly. It wasn’t particularly convincing. “I trust you received my request for a board meeting next tenday to discuss them further?”

“Must still be with my assistant,” Mystra said easily. “I’ll be sure to let you know once it’s scheduled.” She looked him up and down in a way that made him feel instantly uneasy. “You have your favourite jumper on.” She paused. “I always liked that jumper. What’s the occasion?”

Gale was a little surprised she’d ever paid enough attention to know it was his favourite, given that she was too wrapped up in herself to notice anything he did.

“Kara’s birthday,” he said, and Mystra’s face took on an expression he had no idea how to read. “How about you? I thought I was the only one still in the building at this hour.”

She looked tired. Gale looked past her at her desk, piled high with papers and books, an overflowing tray of missives perched precariously on top. It was hard to pity her, given everything she put him through, but he could certainly sympathise.

“Oh, you know,” she said, shifting to block his view. “The usual. Start of admissions season, reworking the curriculum for next term, board meetings to prepare for. Add in wedding planning on top of that and the fun never stops.”

“I hear eloping is the way to go on that last one,” he said, not quite able to resist a cheap shot, but to his surprise she snorted. He couldn’t remember ever making her laugh before.

“I probably deserved that,” she said. “No, Felix wants all the bells and whistles, unfortunately. At this rate he’s going to invite the whole of Waterdeep.” She hesitated. “Look, I could really do with some help on the admissions. If I schedule that board meeting for early next tenday, could I ask you to look over the undergraduate essays for me and whittle them down to a shortlist? I’ll be on my best behaviour, I promise.”

Gale narrowed his eyes at her, and she rolled hers back in response.

“Come on, you and I both know how this works. I don’t act like a bitch to the board, you get what you want, I get to fob off some of the grunt work on you and I can concentrate on colour schemes and eggshell napkins.” She sighed. “This would be a lot easier if you didn’t treat me like a monster all the time, you know.”

Why he’d ever thought marrying his boss was a good idea, Gale would never know. He bit down the expletive ridden tirade he actually wanted to go on, and just nodded instead.

“If you don’t mind, I really should be going,” he said, and he saw a glint in Mystra’s eye that he disliked immensely.

“Ah yes, the charming lyrist’s birthday. Coming of age, is she?” Gale opened his mouth for an indignant response, but she cut him off, holding up her hands, looking genuinely contrite. “Sorry. That was uncalled for. It’s just…difficult for me, that’s all.”

Well. That was not what he was expecting her to say.

“Difficult,” he said, slowly.

“Well, yes. Watching you flaunt your little upgrade at the Academy ball with no regards for my feelings on the matter.”

What Gale wanted to say, very loudly and very angrily, was that she had some nerve when she’d announced her engagement at that ball to a man she’d fucked in their bed while they were still married, and she wanted to talk about his regards for her feelings. But he really wanted that board meeting to go smoothly, and honestly, with Kara waiting for him, there was no point letting his ex-wife rile him up.

“I apologise if I caused any undue hurt,” he said instead. She had clearly been expecting a rant, because she was taking a deep breath, ready to start a shouting match. Instead, she just furrowed her brow at him, her breath releasing slowly.

“Oh. Well. Thank you. Have a good night.”

“I will,” he replied, and he couldn’t help but grin as he thought of Kara’s earlier message. Mystra scoffed, and turned to go back to her desk to bury herself in her paperwork again as he marched happily down the corridor.

Chapter Text

Kara had thought Edmur had been talking up the Yawning Portal, but as he dragged her up the stairs to the “best table in the house”, she was starting to think he’d underplayed it.

The outside may have been unassuming, a plain brick building with a small signboard hanging above the door, but the taproom itself was enormous. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, depictions of past adventurers’ travels into the Undermountain through the Entry Well, which stood gigantic and proud in the centre of the room. It was lit by multiple candelabras, intricate metalwork suspended by heavy iron chains high above them. The air smelled of spiced wine and smoke, along with an almost fungal smell that wafted up from the well in intervals. It wasn’t unpleasant – in fact, it was almost intoxicating. A fire roared in the stone hearth at the far end of the taproom, large enough to house an ogre.

Trophies hung on every wall, so packed between the tapestries that the stone was barely visible. Creatures that Kara had only ever heard of in bedtime stories, statuettes and sigils of legend, huge hunting horns carved out of ivory and obsidian, maps of sprawling caverns and caves.

They hadn’t been allowed to sit on any of the ground floor tables. The host had rather snidely informed them that those were for patrons able to dispatch any creatures who had a tendency to crawl out of the well, and to be fair, their motley crew absolutely did not match that description. She almost hadn’t even let them in. But then she’d recognised Edmur, and her demeanour had changed in a moment. She’d smiled so wide her face had almost split, and after a quick conversation about the wellbeing of his wife, she’d acquiesced to a table on the first floor.

Edmur pulled out a chair as they reached it, making sure she was sat right by the bannister. As she looked out across the taproom, a dwarven adventurer was strapping himself into the harness that hung above the Entry Well, preparing to descend, his party readied behind him. The crowd were cheering loudly, drinks flowing freely, as he jumped into the darkness.

“And Naivara used to do this?” she asked her brother, who sat in the chair next to her. Quinn had procured a tray of drinks, arriving slightly after them and sliding it onto the table. Edmur passed her a gin, taking a goblet of mead for himself.

“All the time,” he said, clinking his glass to hers. “I used to sit here and wait for her to come back up with her crew. I was basically their personal medic. She’s counting down the days until she’s cleared to come back.”

They heard a roar erupt from the well, as the next member of the party hurriedly began to climb in.

“I can’t think of anything worse,” she said, as he floor shook. For some reason, this made the crowd cheer harder.

“Has Gale ever gone down?” Edmur asked Quinn.

“Ask your sister,” Quinn replied, an evil grin on her face, and Kara’s mouth fell open in shock. Edmur gasped in shock horror as Kara blushed furiously.

“Goodness me, Quinn! I meant the Well! So vulgar,” he said, pretending to faint onto Kara, who shoved him hard as he laughed. Introducing Quinn and Edmur may have been the biggest mistake she’d made in her life.

“It is my birthday, stop bullying me,” Kara muttered, but she couldn’t help but smirk a little remembering Gale’s practiced tongue again.

“He must have done back in his student days,” Quinn said thoughtfully, swirling her wine around in her glass. “It’s a rite of passage of sorts when you start your doctorate. I just rode the rope, I was too chicken to go any further. You’ll have to ask him when he gets here.”

It was exactly like Gale to be late, so Kara wasn’t too worried. Especially if she’d been successful in distracting him.

But half an hour and another very large gin later, there was still no sign of him. She looked around the taproom before turning to Quinn, who was plotting with Torthana about how they could persuade the bartender to sell them the largest bottle of whiskey they had.

She was just about to ask Quinn to Send him when she spotted him at the entrance of the tavern, in a very heated debate with the host. He was, once again, wearing his purple jumper, and Kara wondered if he actually owned another one or if he just wore it to see her. His hair was half wrangled up into a bun, and he looked rather tired. He gestured up to her, caught her eye, and she waved back, very confused.

“I’ll be right back,” she said to the table, and hurried down the stairs. The argument came floating up towards her as she drew closer. Rounding the corner, she saw him pinching his nose.

“A lifetime ban is a lifetime ban, Dekarios, or did you forget what happened last time?” the host was saying angrily, jabbing her finger at a collection of posters behind her. A hastily drawn portrait of a young man with close cropped hair and Gale’s eyes was pinned to the wall, the words BARRED FOR LIFE scribbled underneath.

“Mhaere, please, that was so long ago,” Gale said with a sigh. “I paid off the last of the repairs, didn’t I? I won’t even be sat on the ground floor. You won’t know I’m here. I just want to spend some time with my girlfriend for her birthday.”

“A likely story,” Mhaere said, narrowing her eyes at him. Kara decided to use the moment to saunter up to Gale and plant a wet kiss on his cheek, making him jump as she slipped her hand into his.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she said lightly. “Is there a problem?”

Gale gave Mhaere a look that Kara could only describe as triumphant. The host sighed heavily.

“No more fireballs,” she said grumpily, taking the poster down from the wall. “And if you so much as set a toe on the ground floor, I’ll throw you in the Well myself and you can find your own way out.”

“A very fair deal, Mhaere,” Gale said genially, as Kara dragged him away by the hand. “I will be a paragon of virtue.”

Kara was determined to see to it that he was not.

As he followed her up the stairs, instead of heading straight to their table, she pulled him quickly up the next flight to the second floor. There was a dark corridor leading off to the tavern’s private rooms, just out of sight. She pushed him up against the wall and kissed him hungrily, the frustration of the last tenday washing over her as she slid her hands under that godsdamned jumper to feel the warmth of his skin against her fingers. His satchel bumped against her hip.

She felt him gasp against her mouth, and her tongue took advantage to dive past, desperate to taste him again. His hands finally caught up with her, gripping at the nape of her neck in the way that she found irresistible.

She broke away to nibble gently at his earlobe, and felt his legs almost buckle beneath him.

“Couldn’t kiss you like that in front of the others,” she whispered in his ear, sliding her hands down to his waist and digging her fingers into him slightly.

“Quite,” he muttered, and as she leant back to look at him he was almost crimson. “Hello to you too.”

She let a finger ghost over the top of his trousers, before planting a quick kiss on his lips and pushing off the wall, his hands falling back to his sides. He looked thoroughly dishevelled, swallowing hard as she took his hand again to head back downstairs.

They managed to sneak back down enough to look to the rest of the party that Kara had simply gone to bring him to the table, though there was a glint in Quinn’s eye that made her suspect they hadn’t gone entirely unnoticed. Kara realised as they approached that there was currently only one empty seat, and no prospect of a spare chair anywhere close to them.

“I’ll just stand,” Gale said, pulling out the chair for her to sit.

“Nonsense,” Kara said, emboldened by the gin and the kiss. “I’ll sit on your lap. Contrary to your opinion, I’m not that heavy.”

“Please let that go,” Gale said with a sigh, a pained expression on his face. Quinn and Edmur fell about laughing.

“You called Kara heavy?!” Quinn cackled, as Edmur wiped tears from his eyes.

She grinned as Gale groaned slightly. He wasn’t going to have a choice.

Chapter Text

Kara waited until he had taken his seat before settling on his legs, and Gale immediately knew it was going to be torture.

He was expecting her to sit further forward, towards his knees, but instead she decided to sit sideways across his thighs, crossing her legs and throwing an arm around his shoulders, her ribs flush against his chest. He was already considering whisking her back to his before she’d even pinned him to that wall, manners be damned, and this position certainly wasn’t helping matters. Edmur passed him a very large glass of whiskey, which he took gratefully, unsure of where to put his hands when they were surrounded by company.

“Relax, Professor,” Kara said quietly, leaning in so her lips brushed against his ear. It had entirely the opposite effect. She took hold of his wrist and put it around her waist, before resuming conversation with Bronwyn across the table, laughing at some joke that completely passed Gale by.

Everyone could see them, he thought. Not just the people on their table, but the whole of the tavern. She was really testing his comfort level with public displays of affection. He expected more snide glances, more whispers, even though their table didn’t seem to care, and neither did the other patrons of the bar. He gently rested his hand on Kara’s hip, playing a little nervously with the hem of her shirt.

He glanced down at the ground floor bar, where Durnan, the sturdy owner of the tavern, was slinging drinks at alarming speed. The man must have felt he was being watched, as he looked up to the first floor, and Gale quickly ducked behind Kara.

Unfortunately, the movement caught both Quinn and Edmur’s attention.

“So, Gale,” Quinn said, leaning forward on the table, drink in hand, “you must have been down the well, right? Doctorate tradition and all.”

“Oh, right!” Kara exclaimed, turning in his lap to face him. “Why were you banned?”

“You were banned?!” Edmur and Quinn yelled in excitement. The whole table turned to look at him, and Gale decided it would be an excellent time to down his whiskey.

“I had just been accepted for doctoral study,” he said heavily, resigning himself to telling the story. “There were seven of us that got accepted that year, and I was the youngest.”

“How is that relevant to the story?” Bronwyn asked Quinn.

“It’s not, he just likes to bring it up.”

“It is relevant,” Gale said grumpily, as Kara stifled a laugh, “because Durnan wasn’t going to let me ride the rope. So everyone else went ahead of me, and when his back was turned, I cast Feather Fall on myself and climbed on the well to jump down before he could stop me. What I hadn’t realised was that Mhaere was stood just out of my line of sight. She tried to cast Hold Person on me, and I panicked and might have launched a bigger fireball than I meant to. Actually…” He scanned the room, then spotted the scorch marks at the base of one of the stone walls, poking out from behind a repaired tapestry. “Right there is my handiwork.”

“And that got you banned for life?” Edmur asked. “No offense, but that seems almost par for the course here.”

“No. What got me banned for life was the second fireball I unleashed when the other students got me so drunk that I cast it accidentally while sneezing. Burnt down the ground floor bar.”

The table were all in stitches, Quinn’s eyes streaming as she doubled over the table.

It only took a few more glasses of wine and sharing stories before the table was well and truly drunk. Drinks seemed to magically appear at their table whenever they ran low, someone always headed to the bar to top them up. Trapped under Kara, he had simply passed coin to whoever was going there next. His exhaustion had slowly dissipated, replaced by a warmth in his chest as his mind swam pleasantly. He was trying to keep some semblance of sobriety, but the never ending supply of whiskey he was being passed was fighting that hard.

He was surprised at how quickly he grew comfortable with Kara sat on his lap. Maybe it was the weight of her against his chest, grounding him to the moment before his anxiety got the better of him. He could feel the vibrations of her laugh, as she played with the hair at the nape of his neck, or leant against him to take in the conversation around them, or occasionally press a quick kiss to his temple. He had to fight the urge to stare at her constantly, drinking her in as deeply as his whiskey.

Once again, she was claiming him, very publicly, as hers. He couldn’t help but hold her a little tighter at the revelation.

Edmur returned from the bar, having somehow persuaded them to put a sparkler in a ridiculously large glass of gin, and handed it to Kara.

“Right, birthday bard,” he said, his words slurring slightly. “I think it’s high time we had a speech from you.”

The table began to chant for a speech, Gale joining in, laughing as Kara huffed.

“I’m not standing up,” she said.

“I don’t think Gale would want you to,” Quinn grinned, waggling her eyebrows at him. Gale put his whiskey down and made the rudest hand gesture he could think of in her direction, just as Kara did the same with her gin. Quinn put a hand to her chest in mock horror, as Kara burst out laughing. Her face was lit by the sparkler, effervescent and flushed.

He was so deeply in love with her. With everything about her.

“Fine, fine,” she acquiesced, and their party cheered. “Um, well, I can’t say I’ve ever had to make a birthday speech before, so you’ll have to forgive me if I ramble.”

“Gods, you really are turning into Gale,” Aspen shouted from the end of the table, as Yenril shushed her. Kara simply tilted an amused eyebrow at her.

“I haven’t really celebrated my birthday since I was a kid. I wasn’t even really going to celebrate it today, if I’m honest. But I have so much to be thankful for, so much in this city that’s become my home. I’m so grateful to you all for celebrating with me. The greatest blessing in life is the people you share it with, and I have the best people.” She beamed as she raised her glass. “To another year of love and bliss.”

Just as Gale was about to join the toast, she put her glass down, took his face in her hands, and kissed him. He forgot he was in the tavern. He forgot that everyone else was there. A fire burned in his lungs, as a drop of gin on her lips mixed with the whiskey on his. The white noise of the crowd and their friends and the bar faded almost to nothing, as he closed his eyes, feeling only her smile against his mouth and her fingers against the curve of his jaw, hearing only the rush of blood in his ears.

At least, until he dimly heard Edmur pretending to retch, and Kara let go to laugh and kick him in the shin.

Chapter Text

Kara could feel Gale’s fingers resting on the skin of her hip just below her shirt, shifting slightly as their friends began to make their excuses and leave, and it was a miracle she didn’t catch alight under his touch.

Yenril and Aspen had left first, hand in hand. Yenril was approaching something akin to laid back these days, finally able to enjoy the occasional morning off. Aspen was using this to her advantage: she practically dragged him down the stairs to the tavern. Edmur had followed soon after, so deep in his cups that Torthana and Bronwyn had had to pour him into a carriage.

He had thrown his arms around Kara and Gale before he’d left, shouting something incoherent as he squeezed them tight together. He’d kissed Gale hard on the cheek, leaving a glistening wet mark on his beard, Kara laughing as Gale winced.

“I might be learning to enjoy public displays of affection from you,” he’d whispered in her ear, as Edmur was practically carried down the stairs, “but I think your brother’s are still well outside the realms of my comfort.”

There were plenty of chairs, but Kara chose to stay on Gale’s lap as they shared one more drink with Quinn, who was somehow impressively lucid despite having out drunk most of their compatriots. She gently played with his hair, carding it through her fingers, as he animatedly argued with Quinn over some academic theory or other.

He craved her touch, and she was only too willing to oblige him. She’d noticed how he would reach for her whenever she was close, how quickly he would lean into her, the way he was never really readily to be the first to break an embrace. She wondered how long he’d gone without one that was willingly given. She liked to shower him with affection. She liked catching the eyes of strangers and flaunting that he was hers. After so long being hidden, he deserved to be treated like a prize.

She put her arms around his shoulders and leant back onto him, the weight of the question heavy on her chest. He was still deep in his conversation, but he put his drink down on the table and wrapped both his arms around her waist in return, holding her just a little tighter.

She was still a little intimidated by him, in truth. He was so smart, more than she could even fathom, especially now, when she had lost the thread of their discussion long before. Her displays were as much to soothe her own insecurities as they were to encourage his need for touch. If all of Waterdeep saw how happily he responded, perhaps they wouldn’t question their relationship, wonder why a prominent academic and mage was consorting with a girl who barely had a scrap of education to her name.

But she understood him, and he understood her, on a level far beyond what she had expected. It may not quash her fears entirely, but it kept them at bay long enough to let them pass.

A bell rang out from the bar below them, and Kara heard the call for last orders, a ripple of complaints running through the crowd. Quinn threw back the dregs of her drink, rolling her eyes at Gale.

“Well, you being so unbelievably wrong is my cue to head home,” she said, hopping down from her chair.

“You aren’t walking alone, are you?” Kara asked. She realised Quinn had no cloak or coat with her, a real risk in their city that seemed to be permanently damp.

“Your wizard isn’t the only one with tricks,” Quinn grinned, and with a flash of blue sparks and a whispered word, she turned on the spot and vanished right before Kara’s eyes.

“Showoff,” she heard Gale mutter in her ear. Kara stared at the floor where Quinn had been stood just moments before, and then a thought occurred to her.

“Can you do that?” she asked Gale.

“Of course,” he replied, reaching past her to pick up his drink, swirling the last of the spirit around the bottom of the glass.

“So how come you walk to work every day?”

“It requires more of my magical energy than I’m usually ready for in the mornings,” he said easily, sipping at his whiskey with a satisfied sigh. “And I often have to cast more at the Academy, demonstrations of spells, rescuing Timothy from whatever he’s managed to do to himself, the usual.”

“And on days when you’ve been chained to your desk?” Kara said quietly, running a thumb under his jaw. “How much of your magic would it take then?”

She took the glass from his hand, setting it on the table. Carefully, she rolled her hips into his lap, as she nuzzled into his neck and pressed a kiss just below his ear. She could feel him hold his breath as his hands suddenly dug into her sides. She could feel him hardening underneath her as she released a breathy sigh.

“Take me home, Gale,” she whispered, just for him to hear, and no sooner had the words fallen from her lips that she was surrounded by those same blue sparks, the scent of rosewater overwhelming her senses, threads of the Weave binding them together for a fraction of a second.

They landed heavily on the edge of his bed, Kara still sat on his lap, still tangled around him, and she was determined to waste no time.

She pulled his jumper and shirt off in one fluid movement, throwing it over her shoulder, and pushed him hard so he fell backwards, arms releasing her from the shock. But instead of straddling him like she had before, this time, she slid down gracefully onto the floor, immediately setting to work on the ties of his trousers.

Gale tried to sit up, but she pushed up on his thighs, on her knees, and began to kiss lightly along the waistband, hands still working on his trousers. She felt a hand under her chin, lifting her face up towards him.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, so unbearably gently. “Not if you don’t want to.”

She was speechless for a moment. She wasn’t expecting to have to talk him into receiving pleasure. She couldn’t quite believe he thought she wouldn’t want this. Then again, she knew him well enough by now to know that he simply didn’t expect generosity, too willing to give instead. And this man deserved better.

She could feel him trying to lift her from her knees, but instead, she pressed her face into the dip of his hip bone and kissed it as hard as she could.

Whatever he was about to say came out as a strangled moan.

“It’s my birthday,” she said, looking at him triumphantly as she successfully pulled the laces away. “And what I want, more than anything, is to hear your beautiful noises when I take you in my mouth.” But she still waited for him to cant his hips upwards, her fingers hooked into his waistband, giving him silent permission to stop her if it was truly too much.

His hands fluttered to rest on hers, trembling slightly. She let go to hold them, but just as she shifted her weight to stand back up, he pushed down his trousers and underclothes. She helped him slide them from his body as he sat up, looking down on her as she threw them to the rest of his clothes. He pushed his fingers so gently through her hair, away from her face, holding her as tenderly as he could manage.

“If you’re sure?” he asked her, his voice full of trepidation, and Kara could see the wonder in his eyes.

Instead of answering, she ran her fingers through her hair, pushing his hands out the way, and gathered it high on the crown of her head, holding it in place. Gently, she took his wrist and guided it, not breaking away from his gaze. She held it at the gathered hair, waiting for him to take hold.

Gingerly, he wrapped it around his hand, trying not to hold too tight.

“Good,” she whispered, kissing at the inside of his thighs. She felt the muscles twitch below her lips, and carefully, she sucked at the skin, nipping at it as it caught under her teeth. She felt his hand shift in her hair.

“Perfect,” and she shifted her weight forward, trailing kisses upwards, hands sliding up his legs to the creases at the top of his thighs where he sat. He was red hot to the touch, barely breathing, as she kissed just a little higher, right at the side of his hip. She finally looked down at his groin, could see him growing harder as she moved closer.

“Beautiful,” she breathed, as she ghosted her lips over his tip, and Gale’s breath completely stopped. She looked back up at him. He had closed his eyes, his head lolling back, overtaken by pleasure already just from the anticipation.

She took him into her mouth, driving forward quickly, then pulling her head up slowly, tongue dragging lazily at the underside of his shaft. Gale’s hand in her hair gripped tightly as he cried out from the shock, eyes tight shut, and Kara couldn’t help but groan from the pull on her hair. She could feel her moan vibrate around his cock, hardening him even more.

He began to pant heavily as she set as slow a rhythm as she could. She took a little pride in how he was already falling apart.

She could feel his hips straining under her hands, trying not to move but desperate to thrust into her. She pushed down on them, hard, holding him in place, and he groaned her name out as wantonly as she’d ever heard him, falling onto his back, bucking against her hands.

She could taste his precum on the back of her tongue, the salt that she’d been craving, and she swallowed the liquid that was already gathering. His tip bobbed against her soft palate, the motion taking him even further into her mouth, and his back arched as much as he could. He let out a stream of what sounded like curses as she began to increase her pace. Now that he’d started talking, he couldn’t seem to stop, but Kara didn’t recognise the language, only the occasional mention of her name.

She let go of one of his hips to reach between her own legs, pushing aside her skirt and underwear, groaning onto Gale as she slid a finger easily between her folds. Hearing him whine under her, feeling him throb against her tongue, had her almost as wrecked as he was. No longer pinned, he managed to sit up enough to make eye contact with her, moaning in the language she didn’t know.

She steadfastly refused to break his gaze as she began to rock against her hand, fingers circling her clit as gently as she could, head bobbing in time to her grinding. His eyes rolled back, and clearly words were becoming too much for him, as sweat began to drip down his brow. She felt a stab of pleasure in her core, her moans muffled, and he fell back with a cry, the momentum thrusting him deeper.

He was so close. She dragged her mouth off his cock with a wet pop. The noise he made for her was simply divine.

“What do you want?” she asked him, her own voice hoarse, breathing ragged.

He started a rambling sentence, still in his mystery language. She took him in her hand, stroking slowly, wet from her mouth and his own arousal. He grabbed at the blankets, gasping for breath, thrusting in her hand, desperate for more, but she kept her pace deliberately slow.

“In Common, Gale,” she said, tightening her grip on him ever so slightly.

“What-whatever you’ll give me,” he gasped, scrabbling at the blankets as she slowed even further. “Your mouth, your hands, you, just, please, Kara –“

She let go, and he practically sobbed with want as she climbed up off the floor to lie next to him, undressing as fast as she could, pulling him onto his side to roll on top of her. She quickly wrapped her legs around him, just against the back of his thighs, but tilted her hips down, denying him just a little longer.

“I want to come with you,” she said, reaching down between them and touching herself again, but then a better idea came to her. He had his hands either side of her head, barely keeping himself upright. She brought her hand back up, and held both of them crossed at the wrist above her head. “Pin me. Left hand. Don’t let me go.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His left hand covered her wrists and held them.

“So obedient for me,” she whispered, rolling her hips against him as reward. “You’ll have me so soon, my love. Touch me.”

He had to lean away from her to angle his hand, and she had to release his legs from hers, but as his beautiful, soft fingertips began to work her, she knew it wouldn’t be long.

“Fuck, that’s good,” she gasped out, rocking slightly against his touch. “Keep going, Gale, just like this.”

He was whispering something in her ear, slipping between Common and the language she didn’t know, a jumbled mess of admiration and adoration. Her arms strained slightly against him, desperate to touch him in return, but he held her firmly in place.

He slid a finger into her as smooth as silk, and she cried out, not realising how much she needed to be filled until it began to curl against her, thumb pressed hard into her clit, sending shocks through her. She tried to kiss him, but he was just out of reach above her. Waves were rolling over her, ebbs and flows bringing her ever closer to tumbling over.

“Are you going to make me beg for you, Gale?” she asked him desperately, and he moaned, long and low, burying his face into the crook of her neck as he tried to keep his fingers circling against her. “Because I will, please fuck me, you’ll have me falling apart for you, I swear, I’ll give you everything, all that I can –“

She was barely coherent now, as he slowly pulled his hand from her, and she couldn’t help but whine a little as her pleasure started to subside. But then, he was looking down at her again, his hand was around his cock, sliding the tip into place, ready to push into her, and blood roared in her ears. He was pinning her hard now, she could see him straining against her.

“Just give me one hand,” she begged him, and he laced his fingers between her right hand. Her left immediately grabbed at his lower back, pushing him forward, and he thrust into her with a grunt.

“Ah – Gale –“ She couldn’t help but cry out for him, the sudden stimulation sending her spiraling. The pace he set was furious, animalistic. She managed to get her free hand between them, chasing the high they were both desperate for. She could feel herself start to clench around him.

“Come with me, agápi mou,” he growled in her ear, and she was gone. She tried to keep her eyes open, to keep looking at him, her mouth hanging open as she lost her breath, short, stuttering gasps falling from her as her brow furrowed. She wanted him to see her lose herself in him.

He cried out her name, eyes widening, and fell forward, kissing her hard as his hips jerked against her, hand still holding hers tightly as he took what she offered and repaid her in kind.

Chapter Text

So this was what it was like, to have your mind completely blank.

She was still tight around him, warm and so wonderfully wet. He could feel her heartbeat, his racing just as fast. He could hear her breathing hard, her stomach bumping against his with every inhalation. One of his hands was still gripped onto hers.

But thoughts, those were elusive, for a blissful few seconds.

They returned to him like drops of water, one at a time, rippling languidly through him. He was so grateful to her, he thought, as he carefully withdrew. She was the most beautiful person he’d ever known, he thought, as he cast the spells to clean them both. He didn’t know what he would do without her, he thought, as he lay down next to her with a heavy sigh, as she rolled into him, his arm around her shoulders where it rested so easily, her hand playing with the hairs on his chest.

“I love you,” he said, because that was the easiest thing to say. He didn’t have to think about that.

“I love you too,” she replied, and the words still brought him more joy than he thought possible.

They lay together, just breathing each other in, for a little while. He would smile, and she would smile back. He would kiss her lightly, and she would tease a strand of his hair around her fingers. He would hold her to him, and she would bury her face in her neck and kiss at the spot below his ear that he’d decided long ago was hers and hers alone.

He didn’t want to sleep, not just yet. He was basking in the afterglow.

He was running his hand up and down her side, admiring the way her waist curved into her hip, when she finally broke the silence.

“Can I ask you something?” she said, pushing herself up on her elbow.

“I don’t know, can you?” he said, a teacher’s habit, and she rolled her eyes at him, giving his shoulder a gentle push with an open palm. She reached out her hand, pushing his hair back and out of his face, brushing out the tangles.

“Why did you try and stop me?” she asked him, resting her palm against his cheek. He couldn’t help but lean into her touch, stalling for a moment. She pushed her hand back into his hair, thumb stroking his temple.

“I was told,” he said slowly, “that…the act wasn’t pleasurable, after a while. That it was different for her than it was for me. That it was degrading. So I stopped asking.”

Her thumb stilled.

“She told you that?” she asked, and he was glad he didn’t have to clarify. “Hells. For a smart woman, she’s really an idiot.”

He snorted a laugh, caught off guard by her sentiments.

“I can tell you what it was like for me,” she said, lying back down next to him to look him in the eyes, pressing her forehead to his. “You taste like a secret only I get to know. I felt strong, holding your hips under my hands. I felt desired, hearing the way you said my name. To give you pleasure gave me pleasure.”

Well, that was something he certainly understood.

He kissed her, grateful to her for everything she had given him and more. She pressed herself to him, legs tangling together, holding his face in her hands. He had never been particularly comfortable being naked, but with her, it felt like the most perfect state of being.

She broke away from him, shuffling herself up the bed to finally sit up, her back against the headboard. She pulled the blankets over her legs, and patted the bed next to her.

“Second question.”

“I don’t recall your request for more than one,” he teased, managing to push himself up with a groan. His body was exhausted, and somehow he dragged himself to sit next to her. He was going to have to sleep soon, but he didn’t want to miss any moments with her. He pushed his legs under the blankets next to hers, before his body decided it was too tired to stay upright, and he rested his head on her shoulder.

“What language was that? I’ve never heard it before,” she said, turning to kiss the top of his head.

“Chessentan,” he replied, his hands reaching for hers, playing a little with her fingertips. “My first language.”

“Can you tell me what you were saying?” she asked, as he ran circles around a callous on her palm. “Would you,” she corrected quickly with a smirk, as he opened his mouth to respond, drawing a breathy laugh from him.

He tried to remember, through the already hazy memory, clouded by unadulterated bliss and arousal.

Íse tóso ómorfos, he’d keened, when she had moaned around him, cutting straight to his core. He repeated it to her again.

“You’re so beautiful,” he translated, as they slid down the headboard, heads resting on the same pillow.

Den écho niósei poté étsi, he’d cried out, as she’d rocked against her own hand. He stroked her hair as the words came easily.

“I have never felt like this,” he said quietly.

Thélo na íme mazí su ya pánda, when she’d asked what he wanted.

“I want to be with you.” Forever, he added silently, as she kissed him gently, holding his other hand close to her chest.

“And agápi mou?” she asked.

“My love.”

“Agápi mou,” she said, testing the words, rolling them around her tongue.

“Wonderful,” he murmured, even though she was somewhat butchering the pronunciation. But he had never heard them said like that before, so infused with light, with colour, with melody. He could forgive her for murdering his mother tongue, for the intention behind it.

He could feel his eyelids growing heavy, but he fought to stay awake just a little longer. She moved a little down the bed, tucking her head under his chin, hands balled up against his chest.

“Go to sleep, Gale,” he heard her mutter into his chest, and he listened, because he would always listen to her.

Chapter Text

The bell above the shop door rang sharply as Kara was digging through the box of new deliveries behind the till, trying to find Volo’s Guide to All Things Magical to restock it.

“Be with you in a moment!” she called out, sighing as she pulled book after book out of the box. “Did you have a collection item? I can look for it while I’m back here.”

“Mystra Corwion,” she heard a familiar imperious voice call out. “Unfortunately Genevieve is ill, so I will be collecting direct.” Kara tried not to groan too audibly. Normally, Mystra’s assistant was sent to pick up any orders, but the last time she had come in Kara had thought she’d looked a little peaky. Yenril had told her Mystra hadn’t actually set foot in the shop for almost as long as she’d been a department director, but she always ordered the most obscure texts that took him months to track down.

Finally finding the book she was after, she rifled through the collection box, quickly finding the order. To her surprise, it wasn’t any sort of academia, but a number of wedding planning books, alongside a few guidebooks to places Kara had barely heard of.

She straightened up. Mystra’s back was turned to her, as she ran her forefinger along a shelf and inspected it for dust. Finding none (because, Kara thought with annoyance, she had dusted the place top to bottom already), she flicked an imaginary speck away with her thumb.

“I hope wedding planning is going well,” Kara said politely, because even though this woman annoyed her more than anything in creation, she was still a customer, and a customer that spent a lot of money.

“That is far too familiar of you to –“ Mystra turned sharply to admonish her, but stopped her sentence short as she made eye contact. “Oh. Kara. I didn’t know you worked here. I thought you were a musician?”

There was something vicious in Mystra’s question that Kara tried her absolute hardest to ignore.

“I am, but it’s not the most consistent of professions,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “And Waterdeep is an expensive city.”

“Quite,” Mystra said, a smirk playing around the corner of her mouth. “Well, it’s a good thing you’ve landed on your feet with…everything.”

“Three silver and four coppers.” Kara did not like what she was implying, so she busied herself with the till, falling back into customer service.

“Speaking of, is this where you met Gale? I did always wonder how your paths crossed, considering your differences,” Mystra said lightly, pulling a heaving purse from her bag and digging through it for the coin. Kara held out a hand to take it, but Mystra put it on the countertop instead, as though she was loathe to make any kind of contact.

“My first day,” Kara replied, picking up the money. She didn’t elaborate. She didn’t want Mystra knowing anything about them.

“Cute,” Mystra said with a drawl, as Kara handed her her order of books. “Well, this has been an illuminating morning, but I must get back. I’ll be sure to say hello to Gale for you.”

“Please do,” Kara said. I already said more than that this morning in his bed, she thought, but it didn’t seem particularly wise to aggravate the woman in charge of Gale’s career.

Mystra swept out of the shop, and Kara let out a long, heavy sigh, leaning forward and gently banging her head on the counter. She heard the door of the staffroom open behind her.

“Who yelled at you this time?” Aspen asked, carrying a steaming mug of herbal tea that she put next to Kara’s head.

“Nobody’s yelled at me for four whole days, thank you,” Kara said, standing upright and gratefully taking the tea. “But I think Mystra Corwion just called me a gold digger.”

Aspen scoffed. “That’s rich, coming from her.”

It was certainly a new insult for Kara. Back in Baldur’s Gate, she had learned to tell when people genuinely wanted to get to know her, or when they were simply interested in her money. She was under no illusions that her family’s influence was why she had so many plum gigs, so many doors opened to her that had summarily shut in her face in Waterdeep. It was why she had liked Gale so much in the first place. He had no knowledge of any of it, and he had still wanted to be her friend.

Maybe that was why the insult had wormed its way under her skin. She hadn’t known Gale was rich until she’d been to his tower. She’d suspected he was well off, of course, but he was old money, far older than hers. It bothered her no end that someone might think she was with him for his money, even if that someone was Mystra Corwion, a woman she held little but contempt for.

“Silly cow,” Aspen muttered, pulling Kara from her thoughts.

Chapter Text

Gale fidgeted with the collar of his robes as he sat in front of the full board of the University. He, Quinn and Daeris had presented their research proposals over the course of the afternoon, in the main lecture hall. He felt at his most relaxed when he was presenting, and he felt at his most stressed at the aftermath, waiting for feedback and criticism after the staff had pored over their notes.

He wondered if this was how Kara felt at auditions.

Mystra had arranged the meeting surprisingly quickly, true to her word after he had taken the admissions essays from her to peruse. She had been much easier to deal with this tenday, and the thought stirred a not insignificant amount of suspicion in him. Mystra was only nice to him when she wanted something, he knew now. She was up to something, but he had no idea what.

One of her doctoral students moved around the room, taking notes from the board members and handing them to her. She flicked through them quickly before looking up to meet his eyes.

“We can approve proposals 1 and 3 under this year’s budget,” she said, marking off something on her own papers. “They align well with other research currently underway, and 1 certainly has some interesting implications. I like 2, but it would probably be better suited to conjuration, if you’d be willing to consider a joint venture?”

Quinn’s mouth fell open, Daeris began to cough with surprise, and Gale simply sat in place. It was a rarity for more than one proposal to be approved at these meetings, unheard of for all of them. It was also going to significantly increase their workloads, and as far as Gale was aware, they didn’t have any postdocs currently in conjuration.

 “We would,” he said carefully, “but given our timetables I would suggest we focus on 1, and restart on 3 once it’s completed. I also would caution that a joint venture would require a more highly qualified department than ours, unfortunately.”

“Baldur’s Gate has an excellent conjuration department,” she replied, “and given they have invited us to their annual symposium next month, I think that this would be a wonderful opportunity to build bridges between our institutions. I’d like to propose that the three of you begin immediately on your first proposal, and we take your second with us when we attend.”

“We,” Gale said flatly.

“Yes, Professor Dekarios, we,” she said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. “My presence is required, and I’m hardly going to present your own proposal for you. Unless you have more pressing plans than the largest academic gathering this side of Faerun?”

He heard whispering rattle through the board members behind him, and tried to remember he was a professional.

“Of course not,” he said, plastering a smile on his face.

“Excellent,” his ex-wife said, and there was something in her voice that he disliked immensely. “Well, I think that concludes our meeting. Congratulations, Professor, Quinn, Daeris.” Gale stood up, walking to her desk, and shook her hand, as was customary. Mystra leant in, her mouth brushing against his ear.

“I look forward to it,” she whispered, sending a chill right through him, and before he could react she let go of his hand and left the room.

As soon as the rest of the board had left, Gale turned to Quinn and Daeris.

“Gale, something’s not right,” Quinn said. She had a worried frown on her face, the perfect opposite to Daeris, who was grinning like a complete fool.

“What are you talking about?” the tiefling said excitedly, scooping papers up from their table and cramming them into his bag. “All three proposals, Quinn! And the chance to work with Baldur’s Gate! This could open so many doors for us, for all three of us!”

Quinn didn’t say anything out loud, but Gale felt his mind tingle.

She’s after something, I know it. Be careful.

I know, Gale sent back, grateful to Quinn that she wasn’t involving Daeris in this particular conversation. I don’t like it either. But this could benefit the two of you immensely if we play along.

Quinn pulled a face, about as enamoured with the idea of being beholden to Mystra as he was.

Mystra had left the details of the conference on his desk as soon as he returned to his office, and he groaned as he read through. A full tenday in the city, although there were teleportation circles in the university buildings that he would be able to use, so at least the travel time would be minimal. The schedule was packed with lectures, seminars, and meetings, and there were at least three drinks receptions that he would be expected – required – to attend. He was also expected to stay in lodgings in Baldur’s Gate for the duration, so as not to overtax the teleportation circles’ magic.

He couldn’t deny that he would find most of it fascinating, of course. He’d always wanted to attend one of the Baldur’s Gate University symposiums. The best and the brightest would be in attendance, discussing new ideas and breakthroughs in minute detail, his favourite kind. But he had also always hoped he would be able to attend them alone. The little ambitious part of his old self had wanted to be invited as a venerated guest, as an Archmage or better.

Of course, if he went now, he would have to spend it as her lackey. Trailing around behind her, just like he used to, while she took credit for everything he did. Mind you, if it was his proposal, her name would be nowhere near it, save for sponsorship. He had missed researching, and it would be good to work with mages outside of his small circle, who knew more of his business than he wanted them to. And it was the sort of opportunity he shouldn’t pass up. It was more than his job was worth.

Mystra would know that. She would probably have him fired if he refused to go. It would reflect horrendously on the institution if he turned it down. She was the one that had the board in her pocket.

Sighing heavily, he picked up the shortlist of admissions essays he’d compiled for her, and went to knock on her office door.

“Come in.”

She was sat behind her desk, leaning back in her chair, a book magically suspended in the air next to her as she scribbled something lazily on a notepad. She had her bare feet propped up on her desk, crossed at the ankles, shoes kicked off into the corner.

“Ah, Gale,” she said warmly, sitting up. “Had a chance to look over the schedule?”

“I did,” he said evenly, handing her the shortlist without fanfare. “All very interesting, I’m sure. The admissions list, as promised.”

“Thank you, darling,” she said, flashing him a smile as she took them. Her old pet name for him rankled him something awful. “Oh! I bumped into your little lyrist friend at the Paper Plane this morning, completely slipped my mind to tell you. She says hello.”

Gale had just started to leave, but he immediately tensed at her words. He hadn’t felt the need to tell Mystra about Kara working at the bookshop, assuming she would never go there of her own volition – that’s what her assistant was for, after all. He hadn’t considered that with Genevieve off sick, Mystra would actually deign to run her own errands.

“You didn’t tell me she was a shop girl,” Mystra was saying dismissively, flicking through the essays. “Do be careful, darling.”

Gale’s self restraint was hanging on by the most precarious of threads.

“Why would I need to be careful?” he said, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.

“Well, you hear stories, that’s all. You’re a man of means, that’s no secret. And I know you. You’re sweet, but you’re naïve. Someone could take advantage of that.”

The thread snapped.

“Like my advisor?” he said sharply. “Or my boss?”

“Gale, please,” she sighed. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. I care about you a great deal, you know.”

That gave him pause. Mystra kept her affections close to her chest. Even when they were married, she didn’t often admit to liking him, let alone anything deeper. He would have killed to have her say that to him before.

Now, it just irritated him further, and he scoffed, slamming the door behind him.

Very mature of you, Gale, her voice buzzed in his head, his guard too far down to reject the Sending in time. Can I confirm you’ll be attending the conference, or are you going to be a petulant child about that too?

I’ll be in attendance. He knew how much she hated wasting words in Sending spells, and he made sure to be as terse as possible in his response. He heard her grumble through the office door and smirked as he left the building for the day.

The Paper Plane only added a minute onto his walk home, and he found that most days, he’d take the longer way to and from his home just to try and catch a glimpse of her. It was already closed, but he could see Kara locking up. She was singing something quietly to herself. How he was supposed to just get on with his day whenever he saw her mouth, knowing the myriad of wonders it was capable of, was truly one of life’s greatest mysteries.

He called out to her, and she looked up, that wonderful smile she wore only for him blooming across her face. This woman really could brighten his darkest of days. This time though, it clouded over slightly. Yet another thing his ex-wife was trying to take away from him.

“I heard a hag paid you a visit today,” he said grumpily as he caught up to her. “Thought I’d come and check you made it through relatively unscathed.”

The cloud across her face dissipated as she burst into laughter, Gale’s cattiness catching her by surprise.

“She was fine,” she replied, and Gale frowned at her. “Okay, she was a bitch, but nothing that bad.”

Something in the way she said it made Gale disinclined to believe her. “Kara.”

“Gale,” she said, copying his tone of voice. “Don’t worry about it.”

Gale always worried. It was what made him Gale. She took his arm, which stopped his worrying a little, and they began to walk through the city.

“How did the proposals go?” Kara asked him, which brought his anxiety crashing back around him.

“They were all approved, but Mystra felt one of them would be better as a joint venture with a conjuration expert, so she’s making me go to a symposium in Baldur’s Gate with her to see if we can collaborate with someone from their department,” he said heavily, and he heard Kara’s breathing stop for just a moment.

“For how long?”

“A tenday. Next month. I’ll have to stay there. I’ll be sure to teach you Sending by then,” he tried to joke.

Kara didn’t say anything, and Gale felt the need to fill the silence, but he didn’t know what with. They were walking to his, he noticed, as he tried to turn off the street towards hers and she kept walking forward.

“I don’t like it either,” he finally managed to say. “I know she’s up to something. I just don’t know what.”

“I think I do,” Kara said, a deep frown that didn’t suit her on her face. “I think she’s jealous.”

Chapter Text

Gale had fully stopped in the street, staring at her, mouth agape.

Kara had suspected it for some time. Mystra was so obviously furious that her favourite toy had finally grown a spine, but there was something else to it. A possessiveness in her smile when she’d brought him up that morning. A spitefulness that she was no longer on his mind. An anger that she’d been replaced. And now she was dragging him off to Baldur’s Gate, where she’d have a full tenday of parading him around, where he’d have no choice but to follow.

It wasn’t that she wanted Gale back, it was that she wanted him to be miserable without her.

Well, that was tough shit. He was Kara’s now, and she was going to do her damndest to make him the happiest he had ever been.

“That is impossible,” he managed to sputter out, finally regaining control of his feet. “She left me, why would she be jealous?”

“Think about it,” she replied, and they were both walking fast back to the Tower now. “She used to say jump, and you used to say how high, and now she doesn’t have that power over you anymore. So she whisks you off to a gathering where she gets to prance around like the queen bee and parade you around as hers, and you have to be grateful to her. She thinks I’m after your money, so she can swoop in and play the concerned friend card –“

“How did you know that? I didn’t tell you she said that,” Gale said, perplexed, and Kara seethed. Mystra moved faster than she thought.

“So, she thinks, you owe her already for the opportunities, and she’ll wheedle her way into your head and make you think I couldn’t possibly like you for any other reason, and before you know it she’ll have you wrapped round her finger again just begging for whatever crumbs she’ll give you,” Kara ranted, white hot anger in her chest on Gale’s behalf.

“How are you this good at reading people?” Gale asked her, his voice a little shaky.

“Well, she’s got another think coming, because I’m coming with you.”

“You’re what?!”

“I played at the university symposium events every year for five years. They’d have me back in a heartbeat. Good luck to her stupid plan if she’s got me breathing down her neck.”

They reached Gale’s tower in record time, Gale pushing the front door open in a daze as she stormed ahead of him, kicking off her shoes before pacing up and down his drawing room.

“I’ll need to contact Arthur,” she muttered, more to herself than anything else, “and they’ll probably have you staying at the Elfsong, that’s closest to the university buildings, so maybe I can get him to add me to the rooms lists without her knowing, I’ll have to get Yenril to give me the time off, but that won’t be too hard, and I can get one of the girls at the Siren to cover my gigs for that week.”

Gale was still stood in the hallway. Tara was winding around his legs, meowing hopefully for her dinner, but he wasn’t paying attention.

“Kara, listen to me,” he said, softly. “I would never ask you to go back there.”

The weight of what Kara was offering to do hit her like a ton of bricks. Baldur’s Gate may be a large city, but she was known there. Her return would send waves through high society. Her mother would almost certainly find out, come looking for her. But what could she do? She must have sold the business by now, and even if she hadn’t, Kara would have one of the strongest mages of Waterdeep at her side.

And as much as she loved her new city, she missed her old home. She had never really had the chance to say goodbye.

She sat heavily on the sofa, the wind knocked out of her at the thought. Tara ran across and jumped into her lap, butting her head against her hand until Kara scratched behind her ears. Gale came to sit next to her, arm resting behind her on the back of the chair.

“I appreciate the offer, truly,” he said, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear. “But I can handle Mystra. Even without my own personal people whisperer.”

She leant against him.

“It wouldn’t just be for you,” she sighed. “I miss it, sometimes. There’s a few places I’d like to see again. I’d like to be there for you, though.”

“I’ll be swamped,” he warned. “You’ll barely see me.”

“Ah, we’ll be back to furtive glances across ballrooms?” she teased, and he smiled fondly at her. “Snatched moments on balconies? Sending me messages at night instead of coming with me to my rooms?”

“We’d have separate rooms?” he asked, sounding almost hurt, and Kara knew there was no way he was going to Baldur’s Gate without her.

“Teach me Sending like you keep promising you will and I’ll think about sharing,” she said with a laugh.

Tara was kneading into her legs as Gale huffed at her, heaving himself off the sofa to pull some books off the shelves. One of them, Kara recognised as Beginner Bardic Inspiration.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Gale said, spreading the books over the coffee table, “and given that you’re not versed in magic –“

Kara put a hand to her chest in mock indignation.

“How dare you, my lord,” she laughed, as he cursed to himself. “And after I spent all that time making the shop look so pretty for you.”

“Studied in magic, then. I mean, that is to say,” he stuttered, as she frowned at him, the reminder of her lack of education hanging between them, “you are not a wizard.”

There was no malice in it, Kara knew, and although it stung a little, he was wringing his hands together and looking towards the front door like she would bolt. She easily forgave him for the accidental insult, but she wasn’t above making the man sweat.

“Did you hear that, Tara?” she asked his cat, who had settled on her lap and was purring happily. “The professor mocking his student. What a cruel master we’ve found ourselves under.”

Gale blushed at her choice of words, but he was looking at her again, rather than the door.

“What I mean,” he said, swallowing hard and adjusting the collar of his robes, “is that I think you would be more comfortable with bardic casting. Which I am not quite as practiced with, but between us we should be able to muddle through.”

He flipped some of the books open in front of him, sitting back down next to her, a foot of space between them. He muttered as he searched for the particular piece of text he needed.

“Ah!” he said triumphantly, pointing to a page, and Kara was surprised to see a stave of sheet music, a simple five note melody. “Now, I can’t read this, but I imagine most of the rest of the process is the same.”

Kara hummed the tune to herself, and felt a spark of something in her throat. It felt oddly familiar.

“Very good,” Gale said, shuffling a little closer. “Now, Sending requires three components: verbal, somatic and material. Once these are in place, you simply think of the recipient of your message, and intone the words you wish to send in your mind.”

Kara was sure she’d seen both Gale and Quinn cast without any of those, but Gale was settling into a rhythm with his speech, and she decided it was best to save her questions for the end before he distracted himself.

“The somatic component requires one free hand, but I cannot foresee you having any issues. Like so.”

He rolled his right hand around on its wrist twice clockwise, deliberately flexing his fingers, before touching his middle finger first to his lips, then to his temple.

“For the material component, you only need a short piece of copper wire, but most casters prefer to use a spellcasting focus. From what I’ve read on the subject, bards can use instruments to complement their verbal components in such a manner. Oh, hold on,” he said, quickly standing and running up the stairs before Kara could ask where he was going, and returning almost immediately with a beautifully painted lute.

“Where did you get that?” Kara asked him incredulously.

“The music room,” Gale replied, as if that was a completely normal and rational answer.

“Why do you have a music room? You don’t play any instruments.”

“It’s just always been in the Tower.” He thrust the lute into her hands, the sudden movement making Tara yowl in protest and hop off her lap. “From my readings, it would appear each bard has a different approach to complementing their verbal components. I didn’t particularly understand what this meant,” he said, pointing to one of the books, and Kara leant forward to read over his shoulder.

For the bard that chooses instruments such as the lyre or lute as a focus, the verbal component is accompanied. The chord progression is unique to each musician. Most prefer to use Ionian, Dorian or Mixolydian modes, favouring their simplicity and ease of arrangement. There are no set chords: indeed, this author has come across many experienced bards who choose to improvise their accompaniment as they see fit. A word of caution, however: this can have disastrous consequences if the melody does not match.

She looked over the verbal component again, and began to strum a few different chords, trying to piece together the ones that fit best with the melody. The book was right: a simple major key was easiest to adapt around.

Gale was watching her, she realised, eyes wide and impressed.

“It’s basically saying that each bard writes their own music around the verbal component,” she said, wondering how best to explain musical modes to a man who had no musical experience to go on. “Modes are different forms of scales,” and she quickly played through a few examples, “and they’re a little like building blocks for the chords. There’s many different ways to play under one melody. So you could have something like this,” and she hummed the tune over a jaunty set of chords that ended on a resolute cadence, “or this,” and she hummed it again, much slower, on a set of arpeggios more suited to a funeral dirge.

Each time she hummed, she could feel that strange thrum in her throat again, like she was holding back the Weave in her mouth. She licked her lips experimentally.

“The spell is waiting for the somatic component,” Gale managed to say, looking rather overcome by the whole process.

Kara raised her hand, then had an idea of her own.

“I’ll probably only be able to do this once or twice a day, right?” she asked. “Seeing as I’m still building up my stamina.”

Gale nodded. He was looking rather longingly at her lips.

“Stay there,” she said, standing up and heading to the stairs. “I’m going to go find a room in this ridiculous tower of yours, and try and Send you where I am.”

She was sure he whimpered a little at her words.

“And if you find me,” she said over her shoulders, “I’ll share a room with you at the Elfsong.”

She took off running up the stairs, laughing at the look on his face, quickly focusing on the task at hand.

The tower was sprawling, so many more rooms than should fit, and it didn’t take her long before she was thoroughly lost. There was a much larger kitchen, an elaborate dining room, dozens of guest bedrooms. She’d found at least four rooms that could quite reasonably be called libraries in their own right.

It was when she pushed open an unassuming oak door to another one of those libraries, she finally found something she was familiar with.

This utterly sentimental, foolish man had framed his Maxan Maxer costume. Or at least, the jacket was pinned carefully in a mahogany frame, hung from a section of wall that had been cleared of shelves and books. The embroidery shone just how she remembered it. Possibly even more beautiful, even.

She sat on the floor below it, leaning her back against the shelves.

Twice clockwise, then middle finger to her lips and her temple. The taste of rosewater thrummed on her tongue.

She held the lute carefully on her lap, and hummed the short melody. She chose only the happiest chords to underscore it. They made her think of him.

I’m underneath a precious memory, she thought, and to her delight she could feel that familiar buzz of Weave in her mind. Hidden in a forest of spines with no bones.

The thought left her mind, and for an agonising minute, there was nothing but silence and a wave of fatigue that hit her almost immediately. She rested her head back, taking a deep breath.

What does that mean?! I thought you were just going to tell me where you were!

She didn’t have enough magical energy to reply, and he knew it, because almost immediately he sent a second message.

I certainly don’t have any gardens in here, unless one sprung up that I forgot about.

Don’t cheat, Professor, she sent back, grateful that it took far less energy to reply to him. No more clues. And what sort of bard would I be if I didn’t indulge in some flowery prose?

I’m starting to suspect you are a siren in disguise, she heard in return. If I wanted to cheat I’d just use Locate Creature.

She could hear him on the floor below, grumbling to himself as he opened door after door. Then, she heard him shout “of course, books!”, as if he’d hit on the greatest discovery on all time and not the simple riddle she’d come up with on the spot.

Getting warmer, she replied, and she could hear his triumphant crowing through the floor as he rushed back towards the stairs. She stifled a laugh as it was quickly followed by a groan. Gale had clearly just remembered how many books the tower held.

She leant forward, turning so she could look up at the jacket again. He clearly treasured that night just as much as she did. The first magic lesson he’d given her. The first kiss that they’d shared. It had led to so many more beautiful small moments with him. She could hardly blame him for wanting to commemorate it.

“Precious memory,” she heard him mutter, this time out loud, clearly trying to decide which of the libraries on this floor to try first. “Precious – oh!”

And the door swung open. Gale looked rather dishevelled, running a hand through his hair for what was probably the hundredth time. She grinned up at him from the floor.

“Deal’s a deal, Professor,” she said, putting the lute down next to her and holding out a hand. He helped her up to standing, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Shared room it is.”

Chapter Text

It had only been a day, and Gale was already exhausted.

Baldur’s Gate University was not as large as Waterdeep, but what it lacked in number of buildings it made up for in resources. They had been taken on a tour as soon as they arrived, and Gale had been almost struck dumb by what each department had to offer. There was a library of spell scrolls that he had only heard rumour of, mythical artefacts displayed on the walls as mere trophies.

Kara had travelled earlier in the morning, arrangements made with Arthur Pentecost, the planning and resources registrar, to share a room with Gale at the Elfsong. Arthur was an old friend of Kara’s – and, from what he gathered from Edmur’s relentless teasing, her very first crush, though Kara had been quick to add that they had been eight, and Arthur was now very happily married. He worried that she would be bored, but she had promised that she had enough of her own practice to do ahead of the drinks reception for the magical departments in a few days’ time. Knowing she would be there each night for him made the prospect of ten days with Mystra breathing down his neck a lot more palatable.

Somehow, they had managed to keep it a secret from Mystra that Kara would be in attendance. She would be seething, Gale knew, and he’d definitely face repercussions for it when they returned, but there were too many of their colleagues in attendance for her to try anything whilst they were there. Quinn had been immeasurably helpful, persuading her that she should travel with her, Daeris and Gale, showing a united front. And wasn’t it a shame that Quinn’s schedule demanded that they all travel with the later cohort?

After the tour, there was the welcome reception in the main hall, where all of the symposium delegates had gathered to drink expensive wine and brag about their most recent accomplishments. It was here that Gale found himself once again being dragged around by Mystra, who was networking like her life depended on it, Daeris and Quinn thankfully acting as buffers. The hall was incredibly loud, and he could feel himself getting a little overwhelmed by the noise. It all felt too familiar. Like how it used to be.

“Professor Dekarios,” Quinn said loudly, interrupting his wandering thoughts. “Would you be so kind as to refill this?” She handed him an empty water glass.

You look like you’re about to pass out, she Sent him. Is she getting to you? Say the word and I’ll Fireball her.

Gale snorted, and began to cough ineffectually as Mystra’s head snapped around to glare at him.

“Of course, Quinn,” he said. Tempting, but no. I’ll be alright, it’s just rather loud in here. Thank you, I’ll just be a second. “Professor Corwion, Daeris, if you’ll excuse me a moment.”

He made his way out of the hall to the bar, which was mercifully almost empty, save for an elegant young elven woman in a deep maroon dress nursing a wine glass and muttering to herself. She wore her jet black hair in a long braid, delicate silver hoops in her ears, a chain and cuff up to each tip.

“Bartender’s disappeared,” she said to him as he approached. “Something about an empty keg, he shouldn’t be too long.” She held out a hand, and Gale shook it. “Orla Mossgrove, doctorate student of bardic studies.”

“Gale Dekarios, professor of illusions at Waterdeep University.”

“Ah, one of our esteemed visitors!” she said genially. “Nice to actually meet you, though I doubt our paths will cross all that much. No offence, but wizards generally don’t tend to take much interest in my area of expertise.”

“Actually, I have been reading up on the subject recently. My partner is a lyrist with some magical ability. I’ve been working with her to teach her –” Gale realised he probably shouldn’t tell a complete stranger exactly why Kara had been exploring spellcasting. “Some basics,” he finished, a little lamely.

“Is that so?” Orla said, amused, and Gale suspected he’d been caught out anyway. “And how are you finding it?”

“Fascinating,” Gale said, sincerely. “Completely different to my own magic, and a whole other level of theory I can’t come close to understanding. Especially the part about moods when composing with the spellcasting focus.”

Orla looked confused for a moment, then started to laugh. “Do you mean modes?”

“Um, yes. That.”

“Gale, what the actual fuck is taking you so – oh.” Quinn came stomping out into the bar and stopped in her tracks. Gale had to laugh at the look on her face as she stared at Orla, completely in awe.

“Orla, this is one of my doctoral students, Quinn Lightberry,” Gale said, and Quinn stood completely still. “Quinn, this is Orla…”

“Mossgrove,” Orla finished, a smile on the corner of her mouth as she leant on the bar.

“My apologies, Orla Mossgrove. She’s a student of bardic studies here. We were just talking about Kara’s foray into the arcane.”

Quinn didn’t even take the obvious bait. She just stared dumbly.

Toril to Quinn, Gale Sent, and she started. It’s considered polite to actually make conversation when introduced to someone new.

Shut the fuck up, Gale, Quinn’s voice buzzed irritably in his head. Holy shit, I think I’m in love. Fuck. I didn’t Send you that. Help me, damn it.

Gale was under no illusions that he owed Quinn more than a few favours as a wingman, but with how much Quinn loved to torture him, it only felt right that he have a little revenge.

“Quinn’s probably got about a year on her thesis left,” he said to Orla, who was looking at Quinn with interest. “And a good thing too, because she is a constant thorn in my side.”

“Gale,” Quinn hissed at him, as Orla laughed.

“What’s the thesis subject?”

“Simulacrums,” Quinn managed to stammer out. “I’m hoping to increase the range on the spell. Almost cracked it.”

“Range manipulation? Very impressive,” the elf said, an eyebrow raised, and Quinn blushed. Gale had never seen her so flustered. It was really rather sweet.

“How about you, Orla?” Gale asked, as Quinn was still trying to process the compliment.

“Much duller, I’m afraid. I’m researching the effectiveness of different teaching methods for early years students, specifically the difference between elven cultures. Probably got another two or three years to go on it.”

“Halflings learn mostly by ear,” Quinn said a little too loudly, and Gale had to try very hard to stifle his laughter. “I think it’s called solfege.”

As Quinn finally managed to talk to Orla of her own volition, the bartender returned, and Gale quickly obtained a glass of wine and made his excuses to leave.

He returned to the main hall, back to Mystra, who was in conversation about his proposed project with two haughty looking professors. Daeris was nodding along, but without Quinn, Gale found himself falling back into his old habits of staying quiet as Mystra once again talked about his accomplishments as though he wasn’t there.

He didn’t see Quinn again until he was preparing to leave, the reception beginning to wind down. She was still talking to Orla, in the exact same spot by the bar, the two of them laughing over some shared joke. She looked the most relaxed Gale had ever seen her.

The Elfsong tavern was barely a five minute walk from the university, and most of the group from Waterdeep were headed that way. Mystra was apparently staying somewhere more to her tastes, he thought, as she turned right instead of left, headed towards the Upper City. It would certainly make it easier for him to keep his secret a little longer.

Baldur’s Gate was much rougher than Waterdeep, even in the short exposure he had to it on his walk. He could hear the shouts from the docks in the distance, the air heavy with smoke and dirt. A few children ran past him, a small hand brushing over his robes, clearly searching for a coin purse to snatch. Thankfully, Kara had warned him about the rife pickpocketing, and he had enchanted it to his belt. His colleagues, he noticed, weren’t so lucky, as one small boy tore off down the street, wallet in hand, Petrov Strava’s angry shouts following swiftly behind.

The Elfsong was packed out, loud and raucous, and Gale had to fight through to get to the bar. It seemed as though the rest of the university staff had decided to have an impromptu afterparty, but Gale just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for at least twelve hours.

“Gale Dekarios,” he shouted over the crowd to a flustered looking barmaid as she approached. “I have a room here?” She quickly turned behind her to a rack of keys, flicking through a large tome, before hurriedly handing him a brass key.

Dragging himself up the stairs to his room, he could hear lyre music floating down the corridor. Her music. He had never particularly had an ear for it, but he found he could pick out her playing from anywhere. There was something intangible to it. He knew the mechanics of it, how the strings’ vibrations produced the sound, but she infused it with…her, somehow.

He unlocked the door to their room – a delightful thought in itself – to see her sat on the bed, wearing one of his shirts, cushions piled up around her, tongue stuck out in concentration as she played a phrase over and over. Her hair was piled on her head in a messy bun, curls stuck out every which way. The sound of the door caught her attention, and as she looked up at him instead of her sheet music her whole face lit up in a wide smile.

Gale would endure a century of torment if this was the sight he could see at the end of each day.

Chapter Text

Kara had managed to fill her day well enough. She had carted both their trunks to the Elfsong before going on a long walk around her old city, careful not to wander too close to the docks. She had sat for almost an hour in Bloomridge Park, bundled up in her overcoat. When she’d left, the park had been in full bloom, the magnolia trees hanging heavy with pink flowers above her favourite bench, scenting the air with lemon and vanilla. Now, the trees were bare, skeletal branches snaking above her.

She’d headed back to the Elfsong soon after, a little overwhelmed. Another day, she would go by the Chromatic Scale, maybe even duck into the Blushing Mermaid, if she thought she could avoid the streets close to the estate.

She hadn’t meant to dress in one of Gale’s shirts. She’d just opened a trunk and grabbed the first comfortable looking shirt she’d seen. It smelled of him, though, and she wasn’t particularly willing to take it off.

It was harder than she’d thought, to come back. It didn’t feel like home anymore. The once familiar streets left her longing for Waterdeep. She had found herself seeking out the Statues, almost disoriented without them. The sun was too bright, the sky too blue. She never thought she’d find herself missing the permanently grey skies.

Practice, she’d thought. Practice would ground her a little better.

Something about running a difficult piece calmed her. The repetition, the satisfaction when she finally managed to correct a mistake that she was sure was in her bones. She played the same ten bars of one minuet for what felt like hours, determined that it would be in her muscle memory before she stopped. Her mind started to clear as she played on, solving each problem as it arose, marking in what worked and what didn’t in her music with a pencil that she shoved back into her bun when it wasn’t needed.

The door opened, and she looked up to see Gale, dark circles under his eyes and a tired smile on his face.

“Hope you don’t mind,” she said, laying the lyre on the bedside table and gesturing to his shirt. “I might have stolen it for something to wear while you were out.”

It was as good a time as any to stop, and if he was back, it was probably past a time where she should be practicing anyway. Not that the noise would be a concern: now that she was no longer concentrating on her playing, she could hear how raucous the bar was below them.

“Good first day?” she asked, as he sat next to her on the bed with a heavy sigh, kicking off his shoes into the corner.

“Long. Intriguing, certainly,” he replied, leaning on her shoulder as she put an arm around him. “Many avenues to consider, a number of…interesting connections to be made.”

Something about how he said the last few words made Kara raise an eyebrow, but Gale yawned before he could elaborate any further.

“All that socialising tire you out?” she teased, and he nodded, sliding his head off her shoulder and onto her lap. She played fondly with his hair as he closed his eyes. “Gale. You can’t fall asleep like this.”

“Watch me,” he mumbled, already drifting off. “You have very comfortable thighs. A far superior option to pillows.”

“That is not the compliment you think it is,” she laughed, and he grumbled as she heaved him back up to sitting. “At the very least get in your nightclothes.”

Gale unbuttoned his robes as Kara rummaged through their trunks, finding a set of deep blue pyjamas for him and her light blue sleep set. He pulled his undershirt over his head as she started to undress, waving a hand to dim the lights in their room.

“Could you…could you leave that on?” he asked, as she went to take off his shirt. “It looks rather delightful on you.”

Kara grinned at him, before doing a little pirouette and curtesy, holding the hem of the shirt a little way out from her. He laughed as she pranced over to him, settling herself happily on his lap. She nuzzled into his neck affectionately, and he sighed again.

“Kara, my love, I really am quite tired,” he said mournfully. “I wouldn’t mind tending to your pleasure, of course, but I’ll probably need a little magical help to do so.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked him, sitting back up, an arm around his shoulders as the other rested on his bare chest. “I’m not blind, Gale. I can tell you’re shattered, we’re not doing anything except sleep when you’re in this state.”

“I…never mind. Of course.”

Something seemed to close off in Gale’s eyes. She studied him closely, weighing up how far to push him on the subject when he clearly needed his rest. She pushed his hair back with both hands, holding his head in her hands as she kissed his forehead.

“I love you,” she reassured him, as she felt his hands tighten around her waist. “We’ll talk about this in the morning, but you need to rest. You have nine more days of boffin talk to get through.”

She felt him chuckle weakly, and she gently extricated herself from his arms, stretching out and lying on the right hand side of the bed, throwing the blankets back for him. He finished dressing in his pyjamas and nestled down to face her as she wrapped the covers around them both.

“Turn over,” she said, nudging his shoulder. He looked puzzled, eyes half open, but acquiesced. Kara shuffled in behind him, sliding an arm under his neck and the other around his waist, resting her hands on his chest. She heard his breath catch.

“Is this alright?” she said quietly, pressing a kiss on the back of his neck, his hair tickling at her nose.

“I think so,” he whispered. “I don’t know where to put my arms.”

Had nobody ever held him like this?

She shifted her arms, opening out her palms to him, and he shakily took her hands. She gathered them to his chest, squeezing his hands tightly in hers. He was fighting sleep, she could tell. She curled up around him, turning her head so her cheek laid flat against the back of his head.

“Better?” she asked him.

“Much.”

His breathing started to settle. His hands held hers a little less tightly.

“I love you very much,” he said quietly, shifting slightly to look at her over his shoulder. The room was dark, but Kara could see his eyes glistening in the moonlight that crept through the shutters.

“I love you too,” she said, kissing his cheek as softly as she dared, before settling in behind him. “More than anything.”

She woke early, not even sure when she fell asleep, and he was still in her arms.

She could hear birdsong, piping and light, just outside of their window. His fingers were laced through hers, clutched to his chest as if in prayer. He was snoring quietly, a furnace against her chest.

A tiny amount of sunlight fought its way past the shutters, enough for her to see him in the early light. He looked at peace, as she leant slightly up to look at him over his shoulder.

In an hour or so, he would need to leave her for the day, but if she could make this moment last she would be content.

His eyelids fluttered, and one eye opened to look at her accusingly.

“Why’re you watching me sleep?” he mumbled.

“You’re cute,” she said, leaning over him and kissing his cheek fondly as he yawned. The bird outside their window started its whistling over, this time much louder, and much more irritating. Gale groaned as he turned over, burying his face under Kara’s chin and covering his ears.

“‘M not cute,” he said grumpily. His beard tickled at her collarbone as she kissed the top of his head, hand coming to a rest at the crown. “Make the bird stop.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at him, as she lifted her hips slightly so he could wrap his arms around her waist. His hands brushed up against the bottom of her shirt, skimming over the bare skin, and he gave a little sigh of contentment as he pushed his hands up so his fingers splayed across her back.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he said to her neck, running a knuckle along her spine.

“Don’t be,” Kara said softly, and she felt his shoulders tense, his brow furrow. “You were tired. You’re only human.”

She started to massage the back of his head, fingers pushing backwards and forwards through the tangles of his hair.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked him, and he nodded, but he didn’t say anything else for a moment. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head as he breathed with her. She settled into a pattern, one for him to follow, stroking through through his hair in time.

Finally, he spoke.

“I know it’s not true. I know she said it just to spite me. But when Mystra left, she…well, she insinuated that if I had been more present, if I’d been…better, she wouldn’t have strayed.”

That bitch.

“She wasn’t my first, but she was my most formative. Being with you is…it’s making me reevaluate a lot of things about my life. What I thought love was. And I know you aren’t her, gods, do I know that, but last night took me back to that time, what with having to follow her round all day like her lap dog. My first instinct when you kissed me was that if I could continue to please you, you wouldn’t leave me too. And then you turned me down, and just for a moment I thought it was happening again.”

“Gale,” she breathed, her hands stilling.

She felt something wet on the collar of her shirt, as Gale’s shoulders began to shake, and his hands clung to her back as if he were a drowning man and she was driftwood, anything to keep his head above water.

“I promised I wouldn’t break your heart, remember?” she said, stroking through his hair again, and suddenly his mouth was on hers, his hands swept from around her waist to hold her face, her cheeks suddenly wet from his tears.

“Gale,” she said against his mouth, “my love, you don’t have to.”

“Please,” he whispered, his lips touching hers as he spoke. “Just…be with me. Please.”

Chapter Text

Her kiss was achingly gentle.

Gale hadn’t meant for this to happen. He hadn’t meant to seem so weak.

He fought to stop his hands from trembling as he held her face in them, thumbs brushing against her cheekbones. Her hands let go of his hair to hold his wrists, her cool touch steadying them somewhat.

She was still here. He has said the worst thought in his head, and she was still here.

He broke away, his hands drifting down to the bottom of her – his – shirt, and she helped him pull it over her head. He bent his head to her shoulder, brushing kisses against the dusting of freckles, basking in the warmth of her skin, the swell of her breasts against him.

He pulled back to remove his own shirt, desperate to feel her against him without the thin barrier of fabric. But as he pulled it over his head, he felt her hands over his, slowing him down, guiding him to be more careful.

She met his eyes with hers as she took the shirt from him, laying it carefully to one side. Her hands met at the nape of his neck, and she rested her forehead against his. His hands came to rest on her waist as she kissed him again, still so beautifully slow.

She was still here with him. With all his broken parts that she was piecing back together.

He shifted to kiss her neck, and the movement rolled his hips into hers. He felt her breath catch in his ear, as he held her waist a little tighter.

He could never forget, but he could keep moving forward.

He took his time. He mapped out every inch of her frame with his fingertips. He savoured the taste of her, the texture of her lips on his. He catalogued every curl of her hair, teasing them through his fingers.

He was on top of her now, somehow, lost in her every detail. She was so warm. So vibrant. He could spend years looking at her and still find something new to discover, some tiny facet that revealed itself to only him. A new laugh line, that he gently ran a finger over, that he hoped he was the cause for. A tiny scar on her clavicle that he’d never seen, catching the early morning light. A freckle on her breast, that he had to kiss as soon as he noticed it.

She had to know how much she meant to him, but words could never be enough.

With a wave of his hand and a muttered incantation, the rest of their clothes disappeared. He had to see all of her, the smooth skin of the inside of her thighs, the slight dips in her hips. She opened her mouth to say something, but he kissed her before she could, feeling a little gasp of surprise as his tongue flicked against hers.

He didn’t need her to say anything. He just needed her.

“Be with me,” he whispered again, because he had to be sure, and she nodded.

His hips were flush with hers, and with every kiss, he could feel her grind a little more against him. Her hand reached between them, her fingers wrapping slowly around his quickly hardening erection, gliding it across her entrance.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck as he canted his hips forward, hearing a soft gasp in his ear as he sheathed himself to the hilt.

He couldn’t move for a moment. She was all encompassing. All he could do was breathe her in, smooth his hand over her chest, feel her walls tighten around him as he took her breast in his hand.

He wanted to lose himself in her, as their bodies began to rock together, almost unbidden. He felt her hand gently push under his shoulder, forcing his head up away from her neck, and suddenly he found himself looking down on her, her hand holding his neck, unable to tear his eyes away. He felt the pace of his thrusts quicken, and her mouth formed the most perfect o shape as she looked up at him through her lashes.

He could feel the pressure building. She pulled him forward by the back of his neck, his forehead against hers, his hips rolling like tidal waves. He could feel her breath on his lips, quick hot pants, catching as he took hold of her wrist and placed it between them.

He wanted her to take her pleasure from him. He wanted her to fall over the edge with him.

He felt her hand between them as she began to touch herself, but he couldn’t look away from her eyes. Not as they widened, not as she let a low moan escape her lips, not as the lids fluttered, trying desperately not to shut.

“I love you,” she gasped out, and Gale finally let go, his mouth colliding with hers, his eyes finally closing as he spent himself inside her, her legs wrapping around his waist and holding him firm as she came with him.

His mind was swimming. His legs were burning. He could feel his eyes brimming with tears as he tried to catch his breath.

Dimly, he heard a gentle knock at the door.

“Mr Dekarios? This is your wake up call. Your delegation will be leaving in a half hour.”

Kara stifled a laugh into his shoulder as he groaned, casting the usual magic to clean themselves and collapsing next to her.

“Let’s just stay here,” he whispered, splaying his hand across her beautifully soft stomach. “Spend the next tenday making love and doing nothing else.”

“Surely we could have stayed in Waterdeep for that,” she teased, toying with his fingers.

“True,” he mused, as her fingers intertwined with his just above her navel. “Perhaps during the Simril holidays, then.”

“I’ll mark it into my calendar,” she laughed. “Though I’m not sure “absolutely wreck Gale Dekarios” would fly as an acceptable reason to request more time off.”

She let go of his hand, swinging her legs out of the bed and standing up to stretch. Her skin was dappled in the morning light, catching on the stripes on her hips. The thought of his ruination at her hands was far too appealing.

He somehow managed to leave the Elfsong on time, a few Prestidigitation spells managing to dispel the scent of their lovemaking sufficiently enough for him to be presentable. His hair was a little less salvageable, so he had pulled it into a half bun, hoping it looked more like a choice than a necessity.

Quinn was a few paces ahead of him, and he jogged to catch up with her, his knees protesting from the extra exertion. She looked almost as dazed as he felt. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she yawned at him in lieu of greeting.

“Did you manage to regain control of your senses after I left?” he asked her cheekily, and she shoved him in the thigh.

“Nice bun,” she retorted. “Covering up your sex hair?”

He saw Petrov Strava try and cover up a laugh ahead of them. Most of the delegation at the Elfsong had either heard Kara practicing or seen her at breakfast.

“Not in front of the others, Quinn,” he sighed. “Have you actually slept? You look exhausted.”

“No,” Quinn said, rubbing at her eyes. “Orla came back to the Elfsong after they kicked us out of the university hall. Just for a drink,” she added quickly, as Gale pretended to look scandalised. “We were talking, and then somehow it was morning.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“We just talked, Gale.” But she had a dopey grin on her face that Gale had seen in his reflection many times recently. It suited her as well as it did him.

Chapter Text

Kara stood outside of the door of the Chromatic Scale, trying to gather the courage to go inside.

She had spent the past few days avoiding it. She’d practiced until every piece in her set list was note perfect. She’d read all the books she’d packed twice over. She’d even found Hex Appeal at a second hand bookstall in the market and bought that to reread.

But all of that didn’t change the fact that her lyre string had unexpectedly snapped, and of course she’d forgotten to pack spares, and of course it would snap the day before she was supposed to be playing the symposium’s magic colleges drinks reception.

The last time she’d seen Thomas Quirkilious was her father’s funeral. He had wrapped her in a tight hug, earning a quiet tut from her mother, who didn’t believe in overemotional displays and had already cautioned her against any before they had left for the Tabernacle. He had been a fixture in her life since she was five, her first lyre teacher and her biggest confidant, but when he had asked her what she was planning to do, she had lied. Her mother was stood right by them, so she’d simply said she would be taking over the business, and then she hadn’t had the chance to correct herself.

When she was younger, when he noticed she rarely met children her own age, he had started to hold group lessons, insisting to Mallory that ensemble playing was a vital aspect of musical education. He had introduced her to many of his own contacts, when her ability had begun to outstrip his teaching. He came to every public performance: he would sneak into private ones.

It did not escape Kara that she had repaid that kindness by disappearing on him. She had meant to write him, of course she had, but the first few months in Waterdeep had been so painful that she couldn’t bring herself to put it to paper, and then it had been too long to fathom how to even begin, and then she had reasoned that she would be returning to the Gate and could tell him everything in person.

Except then had become now, and she really needed those new strings, and the Chromatic Scale had the best quality.

She pushed open the door and entered quickly before running away became the more appealing option.

The Chromatic Scale looked almost exactly how she remembered it. Plush red rugs lay on the mahogany floor, richly embroidered with staves and symbols in gold thread. Despite the high footfall of the shop, popular with every musician worth their salt in the Gate, the rugs were always thick, and if stepped on just right would play lilting melodies. The walls were lined with instruments, from tiny lutes designed for a toddler’s fingers to large brass sackbuts that Kara remembered Edmur attempting to play, the sound torturing the customers as Thomas fussed at them both. Any space not taken up by instruments was lined with shelves, heavy with sheet music spanning centuries.

Thomas was at his usual spot by the till, poring over a battered looking violin, his ridiculous magnifying glasses held on by elastic looping around his horns. The dragonborn sighed heavily as he tried to reattach a splintered bridge to the body of the violin.

“Blasted, infernal piece of shit,” he grumbled, as the bridge broke clean in two.

Kara snorted despite herself. Her mentor’s penchant for swearing had landed him in hot water a number of times with the parents of his charges. Her father had always found it hilarious, Mallory not so much.

His head snapped up, glowing amber eyes widening in shock, comically large behind his glasses.

“Sorry,” she said, suddenly self conscious. “I know it’s been…I’m sorry.”

He was hugging her before she could apologise again, just as warm as she’d remembered, his huge frame completely enveloping hers.

“You’re alright,” he said breathlessly, holding her out at arm’s length to look her over. “Kara, where the hell have you been?! I’ve been by the estate countless times to try and speak to you.”

“I left,” she said, looking at her feet. “The day after the funeral. I went to Edmur’s in Waterdeep.”

“That would explain a lot,” he said, not letting go of her. “Mallory’s lied through her teeth to most of the Gate, then. She’s told everyone you fell ill from the grief and that Buckman’s takeover was for the sake of your health.”

“She really sold the business?” Kara said in surprise, finally looking up at him.

“Indeed she did,” Thomas said gravely. “For less than it was worth, and far more than she deserved. Buckman let her keep the main house, if you had anything you needed to collect from there.”

“Nothing,” Kara said, and she fully meant it. There were gowns, jewels, trinkets, and nothing she wanted.

“Most of that money should have gone to you,” Thomas said darkly, breaking away to lean against the counter. “It was in the reading of the will. If you haven’t been here –“

“Haven’t seen a copper of it,” Kara confirmed. “And I don’t want it, either.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Kara Nilur?”

Kara shoved his arm as Thomas laughed.

“I’m doing very well for myself, thank you very much,” she said grumpily. Thomas had always tried to encourage her to be more independent, but it had never seemed worth the effort. So, instead, he had teased her for being a bit of a princess, and while he wasn’t wrong, Kara wasn’t the same pampered brat she had been when she’d left the Gate. “I played for the Waterdeep City Watch last month. And I’m on first name terms with the Blackstaff.”

Thomas looked very impressed with her, and she preened a little. She had always sought his attention and praise, finding it completely lacking in her mother.

“Consorting with mages now, are you?” he said with a laugh. “Your mother really would be appalled.”

Kara felt herself blush.

“I’m also…dating one.”

This really made him laugh.

“Thomas,” she groaned at him, as he bent over double, wheezing as he held on to the till. “Don’t be a dick.”

“You couldn’t have been more of a rebel if you tried,” he cackled.

“I only came in here to buy lyre strings,” she grumbled, “not to be bullied. And I’m not dating Gale to stick two fingers up at Mallory.”

He reached behind the till, tossing her a packet of strings. “On the house. Your money’s no good here. I’m just glad you’re alright. And dating a mage.” He shook his head, starting to laugh again.

Kara caught the strings, sighing heavily as Thomas continued to tease her, but she finally felt a heaviness in her chest lift.

Chapter Text

“Of all the stupid, irresponsible, unprofessional stunts you’ve pulled,” Mystra hissed at Gale as he took his seat next to her for the first lecture of the day.

“Do enlighten me,” he whispered back.

“We are supposed to be here to promote your research, not so you can flaunt your little lyrist everywhere you bloody go.”

“Kara is from Baldur’s Gate, and her plans just happened to align with ours,” Gale said a little louder, and Mystra rolled her eyes at him. “Besides, she used to play for the receptions, the university asked her to play for tonight’s once they heard she would be joining us.”

Gale had to admit there was a perverse sort of pleasure in how irritated Mystra was.

“I cannot believe this is how you repay me,” she said, voice still hushed. “I land you one of the biggest opportunities of your career and you’re just treating it like it’s some sort of holiday.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Gale retorted back, “I didn’t realise actually doing your job was so taxing on you.”

He heard Quinn snort next to him as Mystra shushed him, their argument growing loud enough to attract a few looks from the people sat around them. She went to say something, but the professor of evocation began his speech, and she was forced to sit in silence as Gale revelled in having the last word.

He felt the buzz of Mystra’s Sending spell tap at the base of his skull, and he simply refused it, glaring at Mystra, who clenched a pencil so hard in her hands it was bending. As her spell failed to connect, it snapped clean in two.

Halfway through the lecture, he felt another buzz, but this one had more of a lilting undertone that he recognised immediately as Kara’s.

Trying to practice spellcasting. Hope this gets through. How’s today going? Everyone behaving?

Her voice was a little too loud in his head, like she was over-enunciating every word to make sure she was understood.

Loud and clear, perhaps overly so. Behaving is perhaps a rather strong word, but so far, no physical violence. The day is young, however.

A few more minutes passed, and Gale had completely lost the thread of the lecture. Quinn was taking copious notes: Mystra was glaring daggers at him.

He was surprised to feel another buzz, and this time, Kara’s voice echoed in his head at a normal volume.

Hope this is better. Think I’m getting the hang of it. Try not to eviscerate each other before the reception. Waste of a good Gale.

He chuckled quietly to himself.

My ruination will come at your hands, my lady, and nobody else’s. Well done on the second casting. I’ll be sure to reward it later.

Some smirk must have shown on his face, as hard as he tried to conceal it, because Mystra stood abruptly from her seat and pushed past him, red faced, storming into the corridor.

She did not return for the rest of the lecture, or indeed for the rest of the afternoon. Gale should have felt relieved, but instead, a gnawing anxiety began to brew in the pit of his stomach. Mystra was unpredictable at the best of times. He shouldn’t have antagonised her, he thought, chewing on the end of his pencil as he and and his doctorate students sat in the final seminar of the day, to discuss their proposed collaboration.

The door opened, and Mystra finally rejoined them, a smirk of her own playing around her mouth. Quinn raised an eyebrow at Gale, who could only shrug. She stopped for a quiet word with the panel leaders, then took a seat at the table, scanning over the work they had already completed.

Gale could barely concentrate. His mind was racing, catastrophic scenarios running through his head. Quinn frowned at him across the table, and he realised he was supposed to have replied to a question posed by one of the other collaborators.

“Oh, yes, sorry,” he said quickly, putting the pencil back on the table before he consumed it in its entirety. “Could you repeat the question?”

“If we were to commit to this collaboration – and make no mistake, Professor Dekarios, we are very interested – it appears your institution would prefer to have it based here, rather than Waterdeep. We can understand this might be a large commitment for you and your students, and we are of course willing to compensate, as well as grant you full access to our resources. We envision an initial three month period? Of course, you would be free to commute with the teleportation circles, although this would be limited to every two tendays.”

Gale blinked. “That’s very generous, but –“

“Of course,” Mystra said smoothly. “My team would be fools not to accept.”

Quinn scowled, Daeris looked exceptionally worried, and Gale tried to push down the white hot fury that was threatening to burst from him.

“What I mean to say,” he said through gritted teeth, ignoring Mystra’s wicked grin, “is that my students and I will need time to discuss this. If you could give us to the end of the conference to consider?”

“Of course, Professor Dekarios. Let the office know before you leave, but we will need a final decision.”

Gale nodded, as the bells of Baldur’s Gate rang, signalling the end of the day. He stood, tersely shaking hands with the rest of the team, before briskly leaving the room, Quinn and Daeris hurrying behind him.

“Three months?!” Daeris said, biting his lip. “Prof – Gale, Waterdeep has the precise resources I need for my thesis, I can’t leave the city for that long, even with the trips back.”

“She’s done this,” Quinn said angrily, almost running to keep up with them both. “Gale, you have to talk to her, she can’t keep getting away with this. And it doesn’t make sense to have it here! It’s your proposal in the first place, your research, they should be coming to us!”

“I know,” Gale said darkly. “I don’t know what her game is, but I know. This is my fault, I’ll fix this,”

Daeris looked completely lost. “How is it your fault?”

Quinn sighed exasperatedly at him. “Daeris, Mystra is just trying to torture Gale. Keep up.”

Gale pinched his nose as he walked. “I’ll fix this,” he repeated, as much for himself as the two of them, “both of you. Just keep your heads down for the rest of the week. I’ll speak to her.”

Their walk back to the Elfsong was completely silent, a thick tension between the three of them. Gale swung between anger and despair. He did not have enough sway to petition Baldur’s Gate University directly, he did not have enough power over Mystra to simply ask her to change her mind, and he couldn’t exactly go against the head of his own department. He was going to have to get just as petty as his ex wife, or he was going to have to go along with her plan.

He couldn’t ask Kara to come with him. She’d worked so hard to establish herself in Waterdeep that it wouldn’t be fair to ask her to lose the momentum she’d gained. He was starting to understand how fickle her career could be. This had the potential to derail her, and he would not be the one to do that to her. He wouldn’t tell her about it, not until anything was certain. He didn’t want to worry her further.

Kara was in their rooms, holding up two dresses against herself in the mirror as he came in, trying to decide between them for the reception.

“What do you think?” she asked, not looking at him, frowning at herself in the mirror. “Do either of these say ‘yes, hello, remember me, I used to play here all the time and now I am super successful in a different city and am much more fulfilled’, or is that too much pressure to put on a dress?” She laughed at her own joke, but Gale’s silence caught her attention, and she looked at his reflection. “Hey, what’s going on? Is everything alright?”

Gale pulled a dark brown suit from the wardrobe, throwing it on the bed. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Gale –“

“I said it’s fine,” Gale snapped, the stress of the day finally getting to him. Kara raised an eyebrow at him, as his stomach immediately twisted on itself in guilt. She didn’t look angry at him, at least, but Gale had never been good at facial expressions, and the one she wore was complicated. Like concern, irritation and confusion combined.

“Alright,” she said slowly, looking back at herself in the mirror. She held each dress up again, before settling on the second, a forest green gown, slim fitting with a draped back. “This one, I think. Goes better with your suit.”

She carefully put the other dress back in her trunk, smoothing over the fabric. She turned to hold her choice up to him, comparing it to the suit in his hands, before nodding curtly.

“I’m sorry,” Gale said quietly, as she turned back, sitting on the bed to start getting changed. “It’s been a long day. Mystra…it’s been a long day,” he finished lamely, sitting next to her and sighing heavily.

Kara’s expression softened into one Gale much preferred.

“Always is,” she joked, nudging him in the arm with her elbow. “That’s the profession you chose, I’m afraid. Should have gone into music like me, it’s all parties and booze for us.”

Gale snorted, caught off guard by her levity. “Maybe I should have. Thirty six isn’t too late to start over, is it? I’ve always been partial to the cello.”

“Of course you’d pick the cello,” Kara laughed. She leant her head on his shoulder, before turning to kiss it. “If you don’t want to talk about today until after the reception, I understand. Just don’t bite my head off about it next time.”

Gale didn’t know how this had happened. How he had found himself in what was probably the healthiest relationship of his life, completely by chance.

“I won’t,” he promised.

Chapter Text

Kara felt an odd sort of calm settle over her as she prepared her lyre in the corner of the university’s main hall. She’d played here countless times, for college events, merchants’ balls, weddings, even one particularly memorable graduation where a student had been so drunk he’d fallen onto her by accident when trying to walk the stage. She put her familiar black folder on the metal stand provided by the university, the spindly legs of the stand wobbling a little under the weight. One day, the bardic studies department would spring for proper stands, she thought with a little smile.

The hall was empty, waiting for the delegates to arrive and start mingling. She wondered if it would be a similar affair to the Blackstaff fundraiser. Hopefully, with less of Mystra’s grandstanding, though she knew that was probably a vain wish.

She wished she knew what had upset Gale so much today. Mystra set him so on edge, even after all this time, all the progress he had made. He was slowly getting better at standing up to her, but it felt like for every step forward he made, Mystra would pop out of the ground and slap him two steps back. He was trying, Kara knew that. He was trying his hardest to heal, to move on with his life and carve out his own path, but sometimes it felt like he had spent so long having someone tell him what to do that he didn’t quite know how to do that for himself. And she was fine helping him, but she hoped that soon enough he would learn.

In an odd way, she was quite proud of him for not telling her what was happening, for saying he would rather wait to discuss the matter until he had it more settled. He had kept apologising profusely while they were getting ready, and she had had to keep reassuring him that it was alright, but he had set that boundary, made a decision for himself.

She began to tune her lyre, lacing in the new strings and turning the pegs so they were as taut as they needed to be. She was grateful to have a little time to readjust to the space. The halls in Waterdeep were overtly grand, booming acoustics that meant almost underplaying to ensure the sound carried. Baldur’s Gate’s halls, however, swallowed sound as soon as it left the instrument. She played experimentally through a few of the folk songs in her folder, listening critically, the muscle memory slowly making its way back to her.

“How is it,” a familiar voice said, “that you have somehow improved since I last saw you?”

Arthur Pentecost walked through the doorway, carrying crates of glasses, and began setting them up on the table. He was a young man, with short blond hair and an easy smile. Kara still remembered what a hellion he’d been as a child. Marriage and a steady job seemed to have calmed him down.

“Hey, Arthur,” Kara said with a smile. “Wasn’t expecting you to be carting glassware around like some sort of glorified waiter.”

“Har, har, I see your humour hasn’t improved in the slightest. Good to see you too, Thomas told me you were in town.”

Grunting with the effort, he put the crates down on some trestle tables at the side of the hall.

“Planning and resources involves making sure these academic hooligans don’t just swig wine straight from the bottle.”

“Careful,” Kara said with a laugh, putting her lyre down on its stand and settling into her chair, “one of those hooligans is rather important to me.”

“Yes, I’ve heard. Mystra Corwion will not shut up about you. She’s driving the office insane, you know, barged in this afternoon yelling about how we had to fire you.”

“She does that,” Kara grinned. “I have the audacity to be dating her ex husband.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “What a diva. And now I’m going to have to put up with her nonsense for three months.”

Kara paused as she adjusted the music stand. “Three months?”

“You haven’t heard? She requested that the research project take place here. She’s insisting, actually. We’re trying to find her and her research team lodgings, it’s a nightmare.”

Kara seethed. “Arthur, how is it every time I think Mystra can’t sink any lower, she somehow proves me wrong?”

“Your hooligan’s on the research team, isn’t he?” Arthur said with a sigh. “Wow, she’s got some nerve.”

Kara could feel the blood rushing to her face. “I’m sick of it, Arthur. She has too much power over Gale for either of us to stop her, but I’m just about ready to punch her in her smug face.”

“Oof,” Arthur said with a grin. “I somehow forgot how scary you were when you actually got angry. Look, officially, it’s out of our hands. Unofficially? We would leap at the chance to take the project over to you in Waterdeep, if only so I don’t have to deal with all of the planning, but Mystra is our biggest obstacle. If you can get her to drop it we’d be happy to travel to you.”

“She’s a harpy,” Kara grumbled. “And she hates me.”

Arthur put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You’ll think of something, I’m sure of it.”

Kara’s brow furrowed, and she nodded.

Arthur finished setting up just in time for the first of the attendants to arrive, and he left her to her work, as she played her familiar set while she thought. There had to be a way to persuade Mystra. She was just doing it to get back at Gale, to get what she couldn’t have. And Kara knew, even with all Mystra’s academic achievements, that she was smarter than her when it came to the art of subtle manipulation. Mystra was heavy handed, obvious. Kara could be devious when she wanted. She just didn’t want to all that often.

Gods, she hated that Mystra brought this side out of her.

She saw Gale come in, distracting her from her anger for a moment. He did look nice in a suit. She didn’t see him in a suit all that often; he tended to favour robes or his soft jumpers. And as good as it looked, she couldn’t help but feel that he looked a little uncomfortable in it.

But he was circling the room, talking to academics and students and anyone who approached him, and she smiled as she noticed him pointing her out to every single person he introduced himself to. It seemed he was most at ease when he was talking about her, and that warmed her heart no end.

He caught her eye and grinned sheepishly, looking like he’d been caught out.

“Good evening, Kara.”

Kara jumped as Mystra somehow appeared out of nowhere, right by her chair. Across the hall, she saw Gale very obviously roll his eyes before starting towards them both.

“Professor Corwion,” Kara said politely, “forgive me, but I’m working.”

“Are you? I don’t see any bookshelves around here –“

“Mystra,” Gale said sharply, managing to approach before Mystra could really hit her stride. “A word in private?”

Mystra turned, and Kara tried to bite down a growl as she immediately smiled at Gale with an insidious grin.

As soon as Mystra’s back was turned to leave the hall, Kara quickly cast Sending, playing the chords on her lyre as she made the required hand gestures and hummed the melody as quietly as she could.

Give her hell, my lord.

She saw Gale turn and smirk at her as he left.

Chapter Text

Gale waited until they were outside the hall, then stormed ahead down the corridor to an empty classroom, as Mystra followed.

“Gale, come on,” Mystra said exasperatedly as he slammed the door closed behind her. “You’re overreacting –“

“I’m overreacting?!” he burst out angrily. His heart was thumping in his chest. He had years of frustration ready to explode out of him, and he was trying to be mindful that this was his boss, his career on the line, but his vision was practically white and he could barely focus anymore.

“I’m trying to do what’s best for you!” Mystra argued. “This could be the biggest opportunity of your career, one that I’ve given you, by the way, and you’re letting your head be turned by some daft little girl!”

“Don’t talk about Kara like that,” he snapped.

“She’s using you, you know,” Mystra continued. “I loved you when you were nothing but a student. She’s used your connections to get herself some plum jobs, the Blackstaff ball, the Watch ceremony. As soon as she’s got what she’s wanted out of you, she’ll leave you. I’m just trying to save you that heartache.”

Gale couldn’t help but roll his eyes. It was just like his ex-wife to play on his insecurities, but he was too angry to let her.

“Gale, please, try to understand –“

“Oh, I understand perfectly well,” he hissed. “You think you can use your position over me to get me to do your bidding, to follow your every instruction just how I used to. But I’m not that same heartbroken fool you left, Mystra. I don’t take things lying down. That’s more your style, from what I can tell.”

Mystra’s eyes narrowed at him. “You don’t mean that.”

“I very much mean that,” Gale continued, really starting to hit his stride. “You left me, Mystra, or had that conveniently slipped your mind?”

They stared each other down for a few moments. Then, to Gale’s surprise, Mystra sighed heavily and sat on one of the desks in the classroom, head hanging.

“There’s nothing I regret more,” she said heavily, “than breaking your heart for a man who treats me like a trinket instead of a prize.”

Gale paused, mouth open to continue his tirade but stopped for a moment by her words. This had to be a trick. Mystra didn’t do emotions. At least, not this openly.

He leant against the wall, watching her closely.

“Felix doesn’t love me,” she said quietly. “Not really. He loves the idea of me, the dream of a big white wedding to show off to the whole of Waterdeep, but it’s for show. He doesn’t…he doesn’t treat me like you used to. I miss that.”

Gale wasn’t sure if he believed her, but the hurt in her voice certainly sounded real.

“What do you mean, he doesn’t treat you like I did?” he asked, even though he knew he was treading in dangerous territory.

“I always knew you loved me with your whole heart. But with Felix? It just doesn’t feel the same. Like he got what he wanted and he can rest on his laurels now. It makes me feel…” Mystra hesitated, and to Gale, it seemed an almost calculated pause. “It makes me feel like I suppose you probably did. Like I’m being paraded round. And it hurts, to see you happy now when I fucked it up so badly.”

After that sentence, it was Gale’s turn to hesitate. He hadn’t ever really seen Mystra this emotional, and it made him feel a little like he was on the back foot. She looked more than a little ashamed. A year ago, he would have killed to have her say those words, but now? Now he didn’t know what to make of it.

“And now I’m marrying him, in a wedding I didn’t want in the first place but I feel like I have to have, and I don’t know what to do anymore. Because…well,” and Mystra looked up to meet his gaze, “because I miss who we used to be. When everything was good between us.”

Gale sighed.

“Mystra, things were never good between us. We never should have been together in the first place. We were a disaster from start to finish.”

“You don’t mean that,” Mystra said passionately, starting to pace around the room. “You can’t mean that.”

But Gale realised he did. That he had fought so hard for an idealised version of a relationship that simply didn’t exist. That he hadn’t wanted to fail.

Gale thought about how he felt with Kara by his side. The stronger, calmer version of himself, a better advocate for his own needs. How there wasn’t a day that she had ever made him feel small, or lesser than, even when he had pushed her away or shown just how vulnerable he could feel. She uplifted him. She understood him. She always had, even when they barely knew each other, when she had lent him a book and mocked him in a tavern and learnt to cast a spell just to give him his perfect second date.

With Kara, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to fail. It was that he simply couldn’t imagine a life without her in it anymore.

“Don’t tell me there isn’t a hope for us anymore,” Mystra said fervently, taking hold of the lapels of his robes. “That our marriage meant nothing to you. I love you, Gale, I always did.”

“Mystra,” he said gently, trying to pry her hands off his robes, “of course our marriage meant something. Of course I loved you. But that time has passed. I’ve moved on. It’s time you let me go.”

But Mystra wouldn’t let go. Instead, her eyes flicked to the right, and suddenly she pulled him forward by his robes and kissed him desperately. It was familiar, and fast, and so, so wrong.

Gale pushed her away just as quickly, and she staggered backwards. Gale thought he saw a flash of a smirk across her face as she kept looking to the side. Gale’s head spun to see what had caught her eye.

Kara was standing in the doorway, lyre in hand. Her eyes were wide, her hands trembling.

“Kara,” Gale said quickly, “it’s not what it –“

Kara turned on her heel and fled.

Gale swore, and went to run after her, but felt a hand grab his wrist.

“Gale,” Mystra said in a silky voice, “let her go. We can be together again, darling.”

Gale wrenched his hand away from her wrist.

“I would rather be her prize than your trophy,” he said venomously, throwing her words in her face, before running down the hall after Kara.

He could see the hem of her dress disappear round the corner as he chased after her. She was running back to the main hall. He frowned. Why wasn’t she running back to the tavern? Or to the teleportation circles back to Waterdeep?

As he rounded the corner, he almost ran straight into her outside the closed doors to the hall, the hum of the reception barely audible behind the door.

“Kara, what –“

Kara put a finger to his lips to shush him. Then she lifted her hand, and imitated the somatic component of Sending, raising an eyebrow at him.

He was so confused, but he cast Sending anyway, seeing as he could cast it silently.

Kara, I swear, I didn’t kiss her, he Sent desperately, grabbing hold of her hands and pressing them to his lips. She’s been trying to get me alone, trying to get me back. You were right, you always are.

I know, she Sent back, pressing a hand to his cheek quickly. But I need you to trust me. We’re going to have an argument, right here, outside these doors.

He frowned. But everyone will hear us.

I know. Kara grinned at him. Felix just turned up to surprise Mystra. That’s what I was coming to tell you.

Gale’s eyes widened.

And if we fight, he thought slowly, and I just let slip about everything that happened…

Gossip is insidious, my lord. And we know better than anyone that a reputation is precious.

Gale nodded. You’re terrifying. I love you so much.

Kara pressed a quiet kiss to his lips, and then took a deep breath. Whatever happens, just remember I love you too.

Chapter Text

If this was what the rest of her life in academia was going to be like, Quinn was going to quit while she was ahead.

The mixer was desperately dull, a parade of stuffy academics twice her height and twice her age. Everyone treated her like an oddity, like she was there to tick a box rather than as a doctorate student. It wasn’t a new feeling, as much as she wished that wasn’t the case. But halflings were rare enough in this part of Faerun, and she was often the first one that people had even met, which meant she was essentially representing her people. She was sick of having to prove herself to everyone she came across.

It was probably why Orla was such a breath of fresh air. She had immediately talked to her like she was a person, and not some fascinating case study.

Quinn was just about to take a sip of her goblet of mead, pretending to be listening to the Deputy Dean blathering on about some funding issue or other while her mind drifted to thoughts of Orla’s hand on hers as they talked at the Elfsong, when she heard a muffled shout through the closed doors of the university hall.

“Don’t you even dare lie to me, Gale Dekarios! I saw you kissing her!”

Her head snapped round to stare at the door, the mead dribbling from her goblet onto her front. She didn’t even notice.

“Kara, it’s not what it looks like –“

Oh, he hadn’t. There was no possible way.

“After everything she’s put you through! The affair, the divorce, gods, Gale, how could you do this to me?!”

She heard the deputy dean snap the stem of his glass off as they both stared at the closed door.

“Please, listen to me!” Gale’s voice rang through the hall as clearly as if he was in the room. “Mystra kissed me, Kara! Not the other way round!”

“I suppose you staying here for the collaboration was your idea,” the entire hall heard Kara retort. “Get your cosy little holiday away so me and Felix don’t find out! How delightful for you, being put up on the university’s dime!”

Quinn frowned. How did Kara know about that? She certainly hadn’t told her. Gale had been insistent on not telling her until it was resolved. Had Gale lied to her, too? Was it his plan as well as Mystra’s?

She was trying very hard to be loyal to her friend, but Kara was making a convincing argument, and she felt herself getting angrier and angrier at Gale.

“No,” Gale insisted, and she could hear him pacing like he did when he was stressed. “No, Kara, that is not what happened. Mystra’s trying to use me again. She did it when I was a student, she did it all through our marriage, and now she’s trying to take me from you too!”

Quinn blinked. Mystra had always made it very clear to the university that her and Gale’s relationship began after he had graduated. She had sort of suspected it was less clear cut than that, but it sounded as though –

“Oh, come on, Gale, you expect me to believe that?! You’ve loved her since you were twenty one years old! How am I supposed to compete with that?!”

Quinn watched as Felix’ face flushed a very dark red.

“She’s just trying to get out of her marriage! She’s lost control over me for the first time, since when she was keeping me a secret, when she refused to marry me until I was out of my studies for at least a year! She’s angry at me for moving on with my life, Kara, please believe me!”

Quinn’s eyebrows shot up. Mystra and Gale were together when he was her student? When she was actively advising him?!

And by the look on Felix’ face, this was news to him too.

The hall, once silent, was beginning to buzz softly with the murmurings of the attendants, the staff of Waterdeep University staring openly at Felix.

“Just leave me alone!” Quinn heard Kara cry out, as her footsteps retreated quickly down the corridor outside, the heavier feet of Gale swiftly following.

Quinn tried to send a message to Gale, but it was actively rejected, and her face set into an angry scowl. She couldn’t believe Gale had kept all this a secret from her. And not only that, but he was actively messing around with Mystra behind Kara’s back. When he’d been so adamant to Quinn that he was over his ex wife, that he was angry with Mystra, that he had moved on completely and utterly.

She had to find them, if only to tear Gale a new one and to comfort Kara in her time of need.

She hurried from the hall, following where the sound of footsteps had gone, but as she rounded the corner there was no sign of either of them.

Kara, she Sent desperately to her friend, we heard everything. Where are you? Are you okay? I’m going to KILL Gale when I find him.

There was a very long pause, then a slightly breathless message back.

Don’t worry about me. Will explain later. Long story. Did Felix get all that?

What?! Quinn couldn’t help but splutter out loud at how odd Kara was being. How is that relevant?! Why the fuck do you care what Felix thinks right now?

There was a long silence, as Quinn rushed down various hallways, getting more and more lost in the unfamiliar building.

Like I said, long story. We’ll explain when we’re back at the tavern.

Quinn huffed out loud at Kara’s avoidance of her questions, and was about to turn to try and find her way back to the main hall when she heard a hushed voice coming from a supply cupboard on her left.

“How long do you think we can hide here for?” Kara whispered.

“The reception ends in about twenty minutes, I think,” Gale whispered back. “We can sneak back to the Elfsong once everyone’s left.”

Now she was just confused.

“Quinn keeps Sending me, you know,” Kara whispered. “Maybe I should tell her –“

“She can wait,” Gale whispered a little more urgently, and suddenly Quinn could hear noises she definitely didn’t need to hear. She banged loudly on the door, hearing an embarrassed squeak. She wasn’t really sure who had made it.

“I told you I didn’t ever want to catch you in some closet,” she said loudly. “What in the actual fuck is going on?!”

The door cracked open, and Kara’s face appeared, looking very flushed, the straps of her evening gown hanging slightly off her shoulder, a small red mark at the base of her neck.

“Quinn, now isn’t a great time –“

“Like fuck it isn’t!” Quinn snapped. “Gale, get out here so I can murder you myself, I’m much less forgiving than Kara is –“

“Quinn!” Gale’s face appeared just below, almost as flushed as Kara’s, lipstick in his beard. “Keep your voice down!” he hissed, looking behind her for anyone that might have followed. “It wasn’t a real argument, for gods’ sake!”

Quinn tried to process the onslaught of information that had been thrown at her in the last few minutes, and failed miserably.

“Did you kiss Mystra or not?” she asked Gale waspishly.

“I didn’t kiss her,” Gale stressed, “but she did kiss me, and she admitted to having our project moved here for her own selfish gain. It was Kara’s idea to stage the argument.”

He looked lovingly up at Kara, who kissed the top of his head affectionately. Quinn rolled her eyes at the pair of them acting like horny teenagers.

“I’m going back to the hall to see what’s going on,” she said, not particularly wanting to be privy to her advisor’s affections any longer. “I’ll Send you a message if anything comes of it.”

As she weaved her way through the corridors, she could hear all hell break loose in the hall ahead. Felix stormed past her to the exit, Mystra in tears following, the rest of the attendants abuzz with whispers and gossip.

“Felix, wait –“

“You swore to me, Mystra,” Felix said venomously, spinning on his heel to stare down his fiancé. “You told me and the board that your relationship with Gale started after he graduated. For gods’ sake, I defended you at those meetings over and over again!”

Quinn couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for Felix, but she also quickly remembered that he had started an affair with Mystra right under Gale’s nose, and the feeling did not last very long.

Mystra opened and closed her mouth, but no sound came out, and Quinn felt a great deal of satisfaction as she saw her former advisor resemble some sort of fish. Mystra had made her life hell as her advisor, always with some barb or quip about her ability or intelligence, but Quinn had never felt she could say anything to the department. She hadn’t wanted to face any retribution, instead making up some excuse about personality clashes (which, as Gale loved to remind her, had come out as telling the board that Mystra just acted like a bitch. It hadn’t been her most eloquent moment, but it had certainly been effective.)

“You’re fired, Mystra,” Felix spat at her. “And don’t bother coming home.” He turned and left, throwing open the double doors and marching into the city streets outside. Mystra ran after him, leaving Quinn and the rest of the attendants staring at the scene that had just occurred.

Well, I think your absolutely mental plan worked, she sent to Gale. Gods know how, Kara’s a menace.

Don’t I know it, Gale Sent back almost immediately. Now don’t Send me anything for at least the next ten minutes.

”Fucking gross,” Quinn muttered to herself.

Chapter Text

As ideas went, Kara was rather proud of staging an argument in front of the academic symposium drinks in order to get Mystra off their backs. There were bound to be consequences – there always seemed to be, when it came to Gale’s ex wife – but from what Quinn had Sent to Gale, and the argument they’d heard shouted down the corridor outside, they finally seemed to have been granted a reprieve.

Kara was a little flustered at how quickly they’d leapt at each other, though, as soon as they’d both pretended to storm off from the hall. She tried not to think too hard about what that said about the two of them, as Gale pawed at her dress, now that they were free of Quinn’s interruption.

He had her pressed up against the shelves, one hand lifting her thigh up so it pressed against his hip, the other holding her by the nape of her neck as he kissed desperately at her jaw. She could feel his erection straining at the front of his trousers, their bodies flush against each other. It sent a jolt up her spine, the proof of how much he desired her evident.

“This is a bad idea,” she murmured, as his hand slipped further up her thigh under the fabric of her dress. Not that she was working very hard to stop him – if anything, she was craving release from the stress of the day – but she was aware that an eminent professor of magic being caught in a supply cupboard with his girlfriend after they’d just had a blow out fight about his ex wife would not reflect particularly well on him.

“Oh, a terrible idea, indeed,” he replied in a low voice, nipping at her pulse point as he rolled his hips into her to punctuate his words. “Truly one of my worst.”

The hand on her thigh brushed dangerously close to the edge of her underwear. Kara’s breath hitched, knowing exactly how quickly she’d fall apart if those fingers were to get any further. She couldn’t look away from him. And if she was honest, the tiny, possessive part of her heart still hurt with the image of Mystra kissing him. Even though she knew he hadn’t wanted any part of it.

Some shadow must have passed across her face, because Gale leant back slightly, his hand coming to rest on her hip under the fabric of her dress.

“Kara?” he asked her quietly. “Love, what’s going on? You looked so far away for a second.”

Kara hesitated. She didn’t want to break the delicious tension between them, the promise of something forbidden and dangerous stretching out in front of them. Not with something as simple as a mild insecurity.

“Nothing,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him and try and distract herself, but he quickly moved his hand from the nape of her neck to press two fingers against her lips.

“Kara,” he said, giving her a mildly stern look, and she huffed as he removed his fingers from against her mouth.

“Fine,” she acquiesced. “I’m feeling slightly, slightly weird about Mystra kissing you. I’m not angry at you,” she added quickly as she saw his face fall, “I promise I’m not angry at you. It’s more…”

She searched for a way to say it without sounding completely insane.

“Mystra has all this…history, with you,” she said hesitantly. “And I know you don’t see her that way anymore, but I guess I just…I need to hear that it’s different with me, I think.”

She was insane. As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt like an idiot. Of course it was different with her. Of course he loved her more. Not that it was a competition – alright, maybe it was a bit of a competition, even though it shouldn’t be –

Her thoughts stopped running as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. Her eyes closed involuntarily, a small sigh escaping through her nose at how tender it was.

“It’s different with you,” Gale said quietly, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Of course it’s different with you. It always has been. We have uplifted each other from the start. You have changed the course of my life in the most unfathomable of ways.”

Kara’s heart melted as she leant into his palm, turning her head to kiss it.

“And you, mine,” she said softly, earnestly, as she turned back to look at him. “Whatever happens next, we face together.”

He nodded, closing his eyes and leaning in to steal another chaste kiss from her. But Kara didn’t want chaste. She wanted him.

She pulled him in by the belt around his waist, kissing him fiercely, her hands tangling back into his hair. She felt him moan into her mouth, caught off guard by how much she needed him, and she grinned, knowing he would follow her wherever she took him.

His hand gripped at her waist again, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of her hip. The shelves behind her were digging into her back, but she was too caught up in the moment to care. She idly wondered how she could get his hands back to where they were before her brain decided to interrupt their moment. She loved the way he held her – like she was precious.

Her hips canted into his instinctually, and the second moan that slipped from him was a little louder than he probably should be.

“We should go,” she murmured, mindful that he’s starting to enjoy himself a little too much, “we should get back to the Elfsong before we get caught –“

She was cut off by his hand insistently pushing up her thigh, his fingers coming to rest against her core through the thin fabric of her underwear.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled into her ear, starting to massage her. “You are the one who started this particular misadventure.”

Gods, she had no regrets about that in this moment. Her body sparked as he mouthed at her neck, his fingers pressing against her, the fabric adding a delicious friction to his movements. He muttered something, and suddenly the pads are warm, the sensation causing her to gasp. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, stifling a laugh as he started to circle around her clit.

“That, Gale Dekarios, is cheating,” she chided softly, leaning against him to enjoy the sensation.

“Hardly so,” he murmured back, pressing a little harder to drive another gasp from her before turning his head to capture it in a quick kiss. He pulled back, letting her bury her head in his neck again. “Think of it more as a reward for coming to my aid in so delightful a fashion so many times recently.”

There was an immense satisfaction to knowing that her influence on Gale was what had given him the confidence to do things like this. To take what he wanted, even if what he wanted was to please her (which she wasn’t going to complain about in the slightest.) As his hand pushed her underwear to one side, and he slid one of those wonderfully warm fingers inside of her to curl against her g spot, it took all her self control not to start singing his praises very loudly by crying out his name for everyone to hear.

Another muttered incantation, and the finger inside her started vibrating. She yelped in surprise, biting down on his shoulder to muffle the sound, the suit fabric thankfully covering most of the noise.

“You’re a menace,” she gasped, grabbing onto his shoulders, her whole body feeling taut. It was all she could do to stay standing, the way her legs trembled with every second his finger buzzes against her walls, the way he curled it against her and sent her reeling with every small movement. “Where in the hells did you pick up this little trick?”

“You left your copy of Hex Appeal on the nightstand,” he murmured back with a grin as she clung to him. “There was a particular moment in Chapter 34 that I’ve been meaning to reenact with you.”

Another murmured incantation, and Kara felt the spectral fingers of a mage hand against her clit as he pushed another finger inside of her.

The tension snapped inside of her, and she gripped onto his shoulders as tightly as she could, her climax hitting her hard and fast. Her vision practically went white from pleasure and from the shock of it. Her legs gave out from under her as she fought to bite back a scream, instead moaning hard into the crook of his neck. He held her up with his free arm as his fingers worked her through her orgasm, the mage hand’s touch light enough to send her absolutely reeling.

She had no idea how long she spent like that, her walls clamping around his fingers and her breath coming out in quick pants, trying not to scream his name. But suddenly the buzz of his fingers became too overstimulating instead of pleasant, and she tapped his arm insistently to get him to stop, not able to speak to tell him.

He pulled his hand away from her, and she could have sworn she heard him chuckle as she grabbed onto his arms to stop herself from falling straight to the floor. A final murmured sentence, and the mage hand disappeared, his fingers dry and still as he held her close to his chest.

“I hope that was to your satisfaction, my lady,” he whispered in her ear, which earned him a shaky smack to his arm.

“A menace,” she repeated, her voice hoarse from the effort of keeping quiet.

Chapter Text

Gale sat nervously in his office, watching his clock tick ever closer to five.

He should have known. He wasn’t just going to get away with loudly accusing his ex-wife of grooming him in front of most of the department, especially when they were guests of another city’s university. At the time, it had seemed like an excellent idea, but when he received the news that he, Quinn and Daeris were to return to Waterdeep immediately, that he was suspended, and he was summoned to a disciplinary meeting in three days’ time, it suddenly hit him that his actions would have consequences. And not the sort of consequences that had Kara practically on her knees in a supply cupboard.

Not the time, Dekarios, he chided himself, pushing the memory down as it threatened to resurface.

He looked across the corridor at the empty office opposite. Mystra had already been banned from campus by the Deputy Dean, who was running damage control like there was no tomorrow. It irked Gale slightly that Felix didn’t seem to be embroiled in this nearly as much as he should be, considering it had also come out very publicly that he had had an affair with a married woman, but he supposed that was one of the perks that came with being so high up the pecking order.

It also did not escape Gale’s attention that Mystra’s job was now vacant, but such lofty ambitions were perhaps left until after he’d ensured he hadn’t been dismissed.

He heard footsteps approaching his office, and he quickly busied himself with papers, trying to look as though he was preparing. He had been over the university handbook time and time again; he and Mystra had declared their relationship when he was hired as a professor, so in theory, his job was safe. The crux of the matter came from them engaging in their relationship while he was a PhD student under her care. She had breached policy, and given the details he and Kara had ‘let slip’, the university had no choice but to fire her. But he had also not disclosed their relationship, and she had been directly responsible for assessing his doctorate. If the board decided he was guilty of academic misconduct, they could possibly revoke his degree, and his life as he knew it would fall apart.

He was overthinking things, he knew. The only case he knew of a student having their degree revoked was when a girl in his class years ago had been found to plagiarise vast swathes of her dissertation. He had worked hard on his thesis, slaved over the research, meticulously crafted his final papers and presentation.

With Mystra’s help, his traitorous brain added. And you did nearly get fired after the divorce. They might decide you’re too much of a liability.

There was a soft knock at his door, and Gale looked up to see a nervous looking administrative assistant standing in front of him.

“Professor Dekarios, they’re ready for you,” she said, gesturing to the lecture hall at the end of the corridor.

Gale took a deep breath, picking up his notes and papers with trembling hands, and followed the assistant to the hall. She opened the door for him, and Gale saw that a small desk and chair had been set up for him at the front of the hall. The board were sat on the front row of desks, along with, to his surprise –

“Vajra?” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

“Blackstaff Safahr is here as a character witness,” Felix clarified, from his seat in the centre of the front row. “She insisted on it, in fact.”

The Deputy Dean looked incredibly put out by this, but given that the Blackstaff was a legendary figure in herself, it wasn’t as though he could have refused her. Gale shot Vajra a grateful smile, which she returned with a small nod.

“This meeting is a waste of time,” she said bluntly. “Professor Dekarios is an asset to both the University and the Academy, and the fault for this mess lies solely with Mystra Corwion. She groomed a student under her care and covered it up for years. Now you’ve fired her. That should be the end of it.”

“It isn’t that simple,” Felix argued, going slightly red. “Dekarios should have disclosed his relationship with her at the first possible instance –“

“Like you did, Felix?” Vajra said with an arched eyebrow. “Forgive me, but hasn’t it now come to light that you and Corwion, who I will remind you was directly under your management, engaged in an affair while both she and Professor Dekarios were working at the university?”

Gale had to fight back a snort of laughter despite his nerves as Felix flushed an even deeper crimson. He may have been reticent to bring that up, but Vajra Safahr apparently had no such qualms. He could see the rest of the board shifting uncomfortably in their seats. As a collective, there was no denying the truth behind the Blackstaff’s words. If the Deputy Dean punished Gale for his actions, he would have no choice but to resign his own post. It would be the scandal of the century for Waterdeep, possibly even the Sword Coast.

Felix had done a decent enough job of sweeping the affair under the rug over the past few days. There had been a smear campaign against Mystra, now that she was no longer here to defend herself. Gale was rather unfortunately reminded of the divorce by how viciously the rumour mill was spreading, but it was difficult to be sympathetic when she was finally laying in a bed of her own making. Felix’ official line was that Mystra had been using him just as she had used Gale.

“Yes, thank you for that, Blackstaff,” the Deputy Dean muttered, not looking Gale in the eye as he shuffled papers at his desk.

“And perhaps you should also take into account that Professor Dekarios is, to this date, the youngest person to be awarded a doctorate by the University?” Vajra prompted. “Revoking his degree would be dreadfully embarrassing for you, surely. Especially given recent events.”

Gale didn’t know what he did in a previous life to deserve the plethora of smart women that seemed to emerge to defend him at every turn, but he sent a silent prayer to his goddess for them anyway. The other board members murmured amongst themselves, as Felix sighed heavily.

“We still need to discuss your conduct at the symposium, Dekarios,” he said, trying to wrest control back over the meeting. “The scene you caused with the girl –“

“Kara,” Gale and Vajra cut him off in unison. Felix flapped his hand at them both in frustration.

“Fine, fine, Kara,” he said irritably. “The lyrist. Why was she even there anyway?”

“She’s close friends with the Planning and Resources Registrar at Baldur’s Gate University,” Gale said rather tersely. “She was hired independently by them for the symposium receptions. You can hardly blame her for being angry at Mystra’s…actions.”

Felix scowled at him as one of the other board members coughed quite pointedly.

“She is not allowed on campus grounds,” he said, scribbling something down on a piece of paper. “Nor will she be hired for any of our future events. We do not need that sort of attention.”

“Oh, good, that will leave her available for us to hire more often,” Vajra said quietly from her seat, crossing her legs as Felix shot her a very dirty look. Gale could have sworn the Blackstaff winked at him. Actually winked. He had to be seeing things.

“And my professorship?” Gale asked, unable to keep the nervous shake out of his voice. He had to hear him say it, hear him confirm that his job was safe.

Felix huffed. Gale knew full well he couldn’t just unilaterally make the decision, it would have to go to a vote, but he just hoped Vajra’s arguments alongside his own would be enough persuasion for the board.

“All those in favour of Professor Dekarios facing disciplinary action, and for scheduling a meeting to determine what this should be?” Felix asked, raising his own hand. Two other members of the board raised theirs. Felix narrowed his eyes, but the rest of the board’s hands remained resolutely on their desks and in their laps. Clearly, they were as fed up with Mystra as Gale was. A long, tense silence stretched out, Felix waiting for the dissenters to change their minds.

“I believe you’re also supposed to ask for those against,” Vajra prompted, seeing right through Felix’ plan, and Gale gave her a grateful half smile.

“Fine,” Felix ground out through gritted teeth. “All those against?”

The rest of the board members raised their hands. It was a clear victory in Gale’s favour.

Gale couldn’t help but slump slightly back in his seat, the tension of the last few days immediately lifting from his shoulders. As Felix dismissed the board, with a face like thunder, he closed his eyes and stayed sat in his seat for a moment, waiting for the board to file out of the lecture hall.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and opened his eyes to find the hall empty, save for Vajra at his side.

“Just so you know,” she said quietly, so only Gale could hear, “if anything had happened, there was a full time job waiting for you at the Academy. I would have supported you a hundred percent.”

She gave his shoulder a quick squeeze before sweeping from the room, her robes flowing behind her.

Gale sat in his chair for a few more minutes, trying to process what exactly had just happened. He was keeping his job. He wasn’t going to lose everything he worked to achieve over the last eight years. He needed to tell his doctorate students, make sure they knew he wasn’t about to leave them scrambling for a different advisor. He needed to tell Quinn. He needed to tell Kara that her utterly insane plan had worked.

But gods, he was exhausted. He tried not to think about everything that could have happened, but overthinking every possible outcome and catastrophe was his speciality. He needed to go home, to sit on his balcony with a glass of wine and a book and try to relax. He felt a stab of guilt in his chest that he needed that time by himself – he should want to see Kara. He should want to share in this victory with her when she was the one who helped him.

He grabbed his bag from the floor, hitching it over his shoulder as he headed out of the university and onto the streets of Waterdeep. He took the more direct route home, avoiding the Paper Plane entirely, knowing that if he did go his usual route he wouldn’t be able to resist seeing her, and he really needed the time to decompress.

And that’s alright, she has told you that before, he tried to remind himself. Since their return to Waterdeep, she had spent time with him while he was suspended, but she’d also insisted on going back to hers and giving him space when she could see him get overwhelmed. Being allowed to take that time for himself was an entirely new feeling, one he was doing his best to adjust to. He didn’t have to please her all the time for her to be his.

He should Send her, though, he thought. Just to let her know everything was going to be alright.

Had disciplinary meeting. Still have my job. I go back properly next first day. Headed home for quiet night in. Love you. Thanks.

He finished casting the spell as he let himself into his Tower, Tara meowing excitedly at him for her dinner as he dropped his bag in the hallway and kicked off his shoes. Kara’s message came back moments later.

Glad to hear it. Let myself in earlier with spare key to leave something in the kitchen. Send if you want company later. Love you.

Gale frowned to himself as he opened the door to the kitchen to see what she’d left for him. As he spotted what she’d left on the kitchen table, he couldn’t help but laugh.

She’d put a bottle of Arabellan Dry, which he was pretty sure was from his own wine cellar, next to a comically large wine glass with a note and a book sized paper bag.

Found this at the Markets, she’d printed in her beautifully neat handwriting. Whichever way the meeting went, I suspect you’ll need it.

Gale smiled to himself as he uncorked the wine, pouring it into the ridiculous glass. It could easily fit the whole bottle, but he restrained himself, only pouring half. He swirled the glass in his left hand as he slid the book out of the bag with his right, then nearly dropped the wine glass in shock.

He was holding a beautiful first edition of The Way of the Wanderer. It was in pristine condition, the smell of crisp paper hitting his nostrils immediately. Bound in forest green leather, the spine was embossed in gold, heavy and luxurious in his hands.

Love isn’t love unless it unleashes you, he thought, his favourite passage, as he carried the book carefully up the stairs under one arm, his wine glass in his other hand. He thought for a long time he knew what that meant. He knew now that he hadn’t until Kara had exploded into his life.

The sun was setting over the harbour as he sat on his favourite bench, a kaleidoscope of oranges and pinks. A cormorant flew low over the water. He remembered the early morning where he and Kara had sat in the same spot, where he’d seen the same bird, the night he’d told her he loved her too. When she’d first brought up how they could be happy just with how they were.

Gale closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and inhaling the scent of salt from the harbour.  When he had first read The Way of the Wanderer, he had taken the message to be that love would make him great. That it would drive him to fame and fortune the likes of which the world had never seen. He had never particularly dreamt of travelling across Faerun, but he had identified with the escapism, with what the anonymous author had discovered and the philosophies they held. But as life marched on, and as he began to read quietly on the balcony he began to see it in an entirely different light.

They had travelled across the lands, never settling in one place, but they were home when they were with their beloved. They were free to do as they wished, because the person they loved trusted them enough to do so. And in that trust, there was infinite potential, but there was also contentment with the life that they had. They did not need to seek more. Wanting to be better, yes, but not placing their entire self worth on it.

Gale was enough. Kara was enough.

He put the book down for a moment, taking a sip of wine and admiring the sunset. He was unleashed. His life was entirely his to live, no expectations but those he set for himself. It was calming, in an odd way.

Thank you for the wine glass. And the book. I don’t remember telling you it was a favourite of mine, he Sent to her.

You didn’t, she replied swiftly. It’s my favourite. Edmur gave it to me when I moved here. Naught but everything ahead, as the author says.

Gale’s heart thumped inelegantly in his chest.

How soon can you get here?

Gale knew she’d be laughing at him as she left her flat, but he didn’t care. He’d had his moment to reflect, and now he only craved her touch.

As soon as he heard her quiet knock on the door, he moved Tara from his lap, the tabby grumbling in displeasure as he put her down on a much less warm cushion next to him on the bench. He left her to guard his wine and book and headed back down the stairs, his gut filled with a strange combination of calm and anticipation.

As he opened the door, Kara beamed at him, before hugging him tightly, kicking the door shut with her foot behind her.

He breathed in the scent of her hair, holding her tightly in his arms. She smelled like books, the way she always did after a shift at the shop (it was so unfair that she smelled like books, how was he supposed to be a gentleman) and vanilla and spearmint and a combination of smells that were unidentifiable, except they were completely and utterly her.

It did unspeakable things to him. He was a grown man, an eminent professor, and she had him flushed and half hard just at her scent. He could feel her smirk against his neck, and that simply would not do.

Without warning, he grabbed her by the hand and muttered a teleportation spell, depositing them both directly by his bed.

“Seriously?” Kara said, amused, staggering slightly from being so suddenly displaced. “You couldn’t even wait to use the stairs –“

He cut her off with a desperate kiss, tongue immediately delving into her mouth as his hands pulled her flush to him by her waist. His exhaustion was all but forgotten, and he was dimly aware that it was rather foolish that he was this aroused by her smelling of old parchment of all things, but the thought quickly passed him by as she returned his kiss with equal fervour.

Normally, he would take his time with her. He would kiss at her neck, nibble at that spot on her ear that she gasped at every time. He would trail his fingers along her collarbone, or pause for permission to slip a hand under her shirt and smooth his palm over her stomach. But today, he had no time for patience. He had spent a lifetime waiting to be given permission to act, and now, now he was going to simply have what he wanted.

“On the bed,” he ordered against her mouth, his tone rasping and hoarse with need. “On your back, now.”

He saw the flush that spread immediately over Kara’s face, the way her pupils blew wide in an instant. She scrambled to obey, her skirt riding up slightly as she lay back against his pillows. He didn’t even wait for her to settle before he dove after her, hands straight up along her thighs to push her skirt right up to her hips.

Kara opened her mouth to say something – crack a joke about his eagerness, probably – but he was already face first in her underwear, inhaling her scent like a man possessed before pushing them to one side with his fingers and licking a long stripe up her core.

“Fucking hells, Gale,” she gasped out, her hand flying to the back of his hair and gripping on tight. This was his purpose, for the next however many minutes. Gale Dekarios was nothing if not single minded when he focused on a task, and by the gods, was he focused now.

He didn’t even bother to take off her underwear, keeping it held to one side. It would take precious time away from her taste, from the gasps and moans and pants she was making. She had done so much for him in the short time he had known her. He knew, he knew, that she didn’t expect anything from him or want any repayment for her kindness. This was just as much for him as it was for her, but by all the gods he could think of, it felt so good to show his love for her in such a tangible way.

His hips ground instinctually in the mattress below him as he pushed his tongue flat against her, letting her buck against him for friction before beginning tight, practiced circles around her clit with the tip. She was swearing up a storm, practically singing his praises as he worked her. He wondered how much it would take to get her to forget words completely, and that became his new goal.

He grabbed at her thigh with his free hand, tugging it to spread her legs further and give himself more room to work. He could feel the muscles trembling slightly under her skin, little shocks with every flick of his tongue, and he moved her leg over his shoulder so he could feel her thigh right by his head. He used it to gauge her responsiveness, making sure to repeat any movement that made her shake just that little bit more.

He could do this for hours. Buried in her cunt, his beard dripping wet with proof of how much he pleased her, not even undressed and desperate for him. Only him.

He did need to breathe, though.

He emerged from between her legs with a gasp, his chin resting on her navel for a moment as he caught his breath. He looked up at her and couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. She looked almost entirely wrecked already, her hand clenched onto the pillow, the other still gripping tightly onto his hair. Her skirt was crumpled around her waist, her chest heaving with how hard she was panting.

“Please don’t stop,” she whimpered, her back arching slightly to try and get his mouth back on her, all teasing forgotten. “Please, Gale, please, I’m so close, you have me so close.”

He used the moment of respite to finally pull down her underwear, shifting slightly to drag the lace down her legs. Putting them carefully to one side, he looked back up at her, before returning his tongue to her sex once more.

Now that he had room to work, not to mention both hands, he set to it. He held her legs open as far as was comfortable for her, dipping his tongue into her before returning to her clit, focusing on the motions she had enjoyed the most earlier. Without her thighs tight round his head, he could hear every single mewl, every cry he could tease out of her.

He could taste her getting wetter on his tongue, and he held her down over the tops of her thighs, stopping her from grinding against him and coming before he wanted her to. He, and only he, would be the one to get her there.

She was gasping his name now, over and over, and he noted with some satisfaction that he appeared to have achieved his goal of making her forget any other word. With one final flick of his tongue, he drove her over the edge. The taste of her flooded his mouth, impossibly wetter still, and he drank from her deeply as she cried out.

He kept going for as long as he could prolong her climax for, only stopping when she finally tugged at his hair to get his mouth off her.

“I love you,” he said, his chin coming to rest on her navel again, his beard completely drenched. She stared at the ceiling, panting hard, but managed to give him a thumbs up, and he chuckled against her skin.

Chapter Text

Seven Months Later

The Paper Plane was yet to open, despite it being well past nine in the morning. The queue outside went out the door and down the street, snaking round almost to Blackstaff Tower, buzzing with anticipation and excitement.

Kara was pacing nervously around the staffroom for what felt like her fortieth lap. She barely even worked at the shop anymore, between gigs and Yenril finally wising up to the powers of part time student assistants that Gale put him in touch with, but she had begged him for a shift especially.

Bianca Brooks was on a tour of the Sword Coast, promoting her newest novel, Feyned Interest. The Paper Plane had apparently sold the most copies of The Dances of the Forsaken series in Waterdeep, the city coming second in readership only to Baldur’s Gate itself. When Bianca’s agent had contacted Yenril to ask if he would host a signing there, he had nearly fainted in shock.

The author herself was due to arrive in a matter of moments. Kara and Aspen had cleaned the entire place top to bottom what felt like a hundred times over, and Yenril was inspecting their handiwork for the umpteenth time.

“It’s clean, Yenril,” Aspen said, irritation in her voice as he wiped an invisible speck of dust off the top of the till. “I’m not going over it again, I don’t want Bianca Brooks catching me with my arse in the air scrubbing the floors with a toothbrush.”

“Might give her some inspiration,” Kara said cheekily, leaning against the doorframe. “A tiefling and a half elf, running a bookshop together in domestic bliss? It’s like you two were plucked right out of one of her books.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Aspen shot back, ducking as Kara threw a dustcloth at her. “Is your boyfriend in the queue outside?”

“Quinn’s viva is today,” Kara replied, as she made her way across the shop to pick up the cloth she’d thrown. “He doesn’t think he’ll make it in time. I’ve got something for her to sign for him as a surprise.”

Specifically, the copy of Wilder Magic Kara had kept aside for him as an apology gift for spilling chicken all over his robes the day they first met, but she decided against mentioning that to Aspen. It was stashed in her bag in the staffroom, now rather dog eared from the number of times Kara and Gale perused it for inspiration and forgot to move it out of the way during the act. Copying Khalsa’s use of Dominate Person had revealed much more about themselves than they had been quite prepared for.

There was a soft knock on the service door of the shop, and Yenril let out a little whimper.

“Relax, babe,” Aspen said with a sigh, heading into the back. “She’s just an author, will the two of you calm down?”

She yanked open the door, and Kara was immediately starstruck.

Bianca Brooks somehow looked more beautiful than in her author’s portrait in the back of all her books. A strikingly beautiful tiefling, her sleek black hair fell loose down her back almost to her waist. Her skin was a rich purple, accentuated by the ivory dress she wore, cut tight to her figure and belted with a simple gold waistband. She had a plethora of gold rings on each hand, delicate gold chains hanging from her horns. A prim looking half elf, presumably her assistant, followed dutifully behind her.

“You must be Aspen,” the author said warmly, taking both Aspen’s hands in hers and politely kissing both her cheeks in greeting. “Yenril’s told my agent so much about you in his correspondence.”

Yenril’s cheeks flushed bright red as Aspen shot him an amused look.

“Miss Brooks,” Yenril stuttered, “it’s an honour –“

“Bianca, please,” she said with a wave of her hand, letting go of Aspen to give Yenril the same greeting. Somehow, Yenril blushed even further. “The pleasure is mine, trust me. I’ve heard you’re single-handedly responsible for some of my bestsellers.”

She spotted Kara lurking awkwardly in the doorway, and smiled warmly, holding out her hands for Kara to approach.

“Yenril, you must introduce me to this charming young woman,” she said, as Kara inched nervously closer. Gods, why was she so nervous? Bianca Brooks was just a person, and yet Kara was unbelievably intimidated by her. Maybe it was because her writing had fueled most of her fantasies for the past eight months, all of them involving Gale some way or another. Kara tried to fight down that thought – it certainly wouldn’t be appropriate to tell her.

“I’m Kara Nilur,” she blurted out, “I work here sometimes.” She hurried over to take Bianca’s hands, letting her kiss both her cheeks in greeting too. She smelled incredible, a sweet orange blossom perfume.

“She’s a big fan,” Aspen said with a smirk from behind them, and Kara flushed as red as Yenril, not willing to let go of Bianca’s hands just yet.

Bianca gave her a look of wry amusement, clearly used to this kind of treatment.

“Is that so, Kara?” she said kindly, giving her hands a small squeeze. “Are there any books in particular of mine that you favour?”

“Wilder Magic,” Kara said promptly. “It – well, it brought my boyfriend and I together, in a sense. I was hoping I could ask you to sign it for him before we opened. I know it’s a lot to ask,” she added quickly, feeling more than a little embarrassed. Bianca was supposed to be signing copies of her new book, and here she was, asking her to sign a rather tattered copy of a book she’d released almost a year ago. “And I have bought a copy of Feyned Interest, I’m excited to start reading it, but Wilder Magic is sort of special to me and Gale and –“

Aspen elbowed Kara in the ribs, and Kara cut herself off, suddenly realising just how much she was babbling. She made a little noise of apology, letting go of Bianca’s hands and wiping them on her shirt front. They were so sweaty, fuck, why hadn’t she noticed they were so sweaty?

“I’d be delighted to, Kara,” Bianca said with a small laugh. “Let me get set up first, and yours will be the first book I sign. I’m assuming it’ll be for this Gale of yours?”

Kara nodded dumbly. She didn’t trust herself to speak anymore. She’d probably start gushing about Gale to a woman she’s only met a matter of seconds ago, but who has been the inspiration of some of the greatest nights of her life.

Yenril had already set up a table for Bianca in the sunniest corner of the shop. He’d set out a few displays of her newest book, alongside the more popular novels that had preceded it. Kara had enchanted them to glow softly – entirely at Yenril’s insistence, because apparently it made them more enticing to customers. Kara threatened to charge more for her enchanting services on a daily basis with how often Yenril asked her to put them to use in pursuit of sales.

Kara didn’t mind this set up so much, though. It reminded her of that magical second date with Gale.

Bianca took her seat, adjusting her dress as she sat. The crowd outside the window picked up at the sight of her, craning their necks to catch a glimpse through the glass.

“So, Kara,” she said, as her assistant handed her a large, florid quill, “tell me a little bit about your partner. I’ll make sure to add a little more detail than my usual scribbles.”

“We call him Hot Professor,” Aspen said helpfully from behind the counter, a smirk on her face.

“Yes, thank you, Aspen,” Kara said, somehow blushing even further. “He’s the Director of the Department of Illusions at Waterdeep University. He’s supervising the PhD vivas today, otherwise he’d be here to meet you himself.”

“A scholar,” Bianca said rather approvingly, twirling the quill in her hand. “And you say my books brought you together?”

“Um, yes,” Kara replied, trying her best not to stutter. “My first day here, I sort of made fun of him for ordering in a copy of Loveforged, and then I lent him a copy of Wilder Magic as an apology gift, and then I made fun of him in front of a crowd and his students at a gig I was playing – I’m a musician, a lyrist, specifically – and the next day he came by the shop to give me the book back and we sort of went on a date, and – oh, gods,” and she finally took a breath. “Sorry, I’m rambling again.”

Bianca laughed, taking Wilder Magic from Kara and opening the front cover.

“That’s alright, darling,” she said, dipping her quill in ink before beginning to write. “It’s quite some story, and I suspect there’s even more to it than what you’ve told me. But that is plenty to go on for an inscription.”

Kara craned her neck to try and see what she was writing, but she couldn’t read Bianca’s florid handwriting from where she was. The author finished a long inscription with a flourish, her signature barely legible as she blew gently on the ink to dry it and handed the book back to Kara.

The book signing, by all accounts, was one of the most successful days The Paper Plane had had since its opening. To Kara’s surprise, Edmur walked through the door two hours in, baby Melora strapped to his front. He looked like he hadn’t slept, which, in all fairness, he basically hadn’t for five months.

“Have you been in the queue this whole time?” she said, immediately taking the baby from him and cooing over her niece. Edmur sighed, knowing there was no point in stopping her.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working this signing, not trying to kidnap my firstborn?” he asked exasperatedly, as Kara handed him a copy of Feyned Interest from the stack, holding out her spare hand for the money, Melora cradled in her other arm. “And why do I have to pay, I’m your brother! I have a wife and baby to support, Kara, can’t you spot me for this one?”

“I am working, aren’t I?” Kara retorted back. “And no, I’m not spotting you, you can pay like everyone else.”

“I know you make more money than me from your gigs,” he grumbled, digging into his pocket and slapping the money into Kara’s outstretched palm.

“I didn’t even know you liked her novels,” Kara said, hitching Melora up a little as she deposited the money in the tills. “Did you know that, darling?” she addressed the baby, shifting her so she could lift her up and blow a raspberry into her stomach. Melora squealed with excitement.

“It’s for Naivara,” Edmur insisted. Kara raised an eyebrow. 

“Gale got you reading them, didn’t he?” she said, not believing his excuse for a minute. Edmur didn’t say anything for a few seconds, then he nodded, looking rather annoyed at being called out.

Chapter Text

“So tell us, Miss Lightberry, what aspects of your PhD are you most proud of?”

Gale fidgeted with his robes’ sleeve as he sat at the side of the seminar room. Quinn was sitting ramrod straight at the table, an impressive feat given that she’d been answering questions for close to four hours at this point. Opposite her, Professor Amani was waiting patiently for the answer. Amani was hired as Gale’s replacement when he’d been made Director of the department. Mystra’s job had sat empty for weeks; finally, Felix had had to accept that Gale was the ideal candidate, and had very begrudgingly offered him the post. Gale didn’t know the external examiner, and had already forgotten his name, only knowing he was from Calimport.

Gale and Quinn had prepped together almost the entire week. Gale had run her through all the questions he suspected would come up in her viva, mostly based on his own experiences. She knew her thesis inside out and backwards. That morning, he had treated her to breakfast at the Markets, and she had admitted that she was terrified.

“What if they fail me?” she’d asked, barely touching the turnover Gale had split with her.

“They’re not going to fail you,” he’d responded. “Quinn, your doctorate is brilliant. Possibly the best this department has ever produced.”

“Not counting yours, obviously,” she’d countered, and he’d laughed, rolling his eyes.

“Including mine,” he’d said. “Quinn, I am unbelievably proud of you. Both as your supervisor, and as your friend. I have every faith in you.”

It was a question Gale hadn’t thought to include. They’d prepared so much of the technical aspects that a purely emotional and subjective question hadn’t even occurred to him. Quinn caught his eye, and he took a deep breath in, and a slow release out. Deep breath before every question, Quinn. Try not to overthink. A very hypocritical statement, he knew, but it was something they were both doing better at.

“You mean aside from the fact I actually finished it?” Quinn said, earning herself a snort of laughter from the external examiner. She thought for a moment, leaning back in her chair. “Well, there’s a lot of technical elements to it, but I’ve told you about those. I think…I think I’m proud that I’ve contributed something. I poured my damn heart and soul and years of my life into this thesis, and it worked. And – and there’s so few people like me in this field, you know? I mean, I’m the first person in my family to go to college. And I made new discoveries, I changed a fundamental piece of magic. Me. How could I not be proud of that?”

Gale beamed at her from his seat.

The two examiners took a moment, whispering to each other. Gale had no idea how Quinn could sit so still. He had been a trembling mess at his own viva.

Finally, they turned back.

“Well, Miss Lightberry,” Professor Amani said, giving Quinn a kind smile, “it would appear congratulations are in order. We’ll be submitting this officially, of course, but it gives us great pleasure to tell you that we will be awarding your degree with no corrections.” She held out a hand for Quinn to shake.

Gale and Quinn both stared at her.

“Wait, really?” Quinn stammered out. “None? But – but what about clarifications? Grammatical errors?”

“No need,” Professor Amani said simply. “This is a very impressive thesis, Miss Lightberry.”

“But nobody’s passed a viva here with no corrections since – since, well, him,” Quinn replied, waving an arm in Gale’s direction. “You’re telling me I’ve pulled a Dekarios?!”

“That is precisely what I’m telling you,” Professor Amani said, packing up her notes into her briefcase as the external examiner stifled another laugh. “I suspect your fellow students will need to correct the term. Director Dekarios will inform you of your next steps. It was truly a pleasure speaking with you today, Miss Lightberry. Congratulations again.”

As the examiners left the seminar room, Gale simply sat in shock in his chair, staring at Quinn. Quinn’s eyes were fixed on the chairs in front of her. He slowly stood up, walking over and kneeling next to her. He remembered this moment so well. Years of hard work, finished in a single, overwhelming instant.

“I did it,” she murmured, so quietly that Gale didn’t hear her at first. “Oh my fucking gods, I did it.”

Suddenly, she let out a shriek of excitement that made Gale jump nearly out of his skin, and she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his shoulders in a tight hug.

“Gale, I did it!” she yelled, leaning back and punching him so hard in the arm that he saw white. “No corrections, motherfucker!”

Gale rubbed his arm a little ruefully, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

“Congratulations, Quinn,” he said, wincing slightly. He could feel the bruise form already. “You’re officially my first doctoral student to graduate. And the first person in years to pass the viva with no corrections.”

“They’re going to call it the Lightberry now,” she grinned back, hopping down from the chair as she swept all her materials into her rucksack. “I’ll have your job next.”

“About that,” he said, standing up and brushing down his robes. “How would you feel about staying on at the University? There’s a research fellow position waiting for you if you want it.”

Quinn was about to barrel out of the seminar room when she stopped in her tracks.

“It’s all cleared already,” Gale continued, as she turned round with wide eyes. “I told you this morning, Quinn – your thesis is one of, if not the best piece of academic writing this university has seen for years. As Director of this department, I’d be a fool not to take you on. And as your friend,” he said quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder, “I could not imagine this department without you in it.”

Quinn hugged him tightly around the waist.

“I can’t believe you’re going to make me cry before I’ve even had a drink to celebrate,” she muttered into his abdomen. “Asshole.”

He laughed, hugging her back.

“Come on, then,” he said, gently breaking the hug as she wiped furiously at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Let’s go get that drink.”

“It’s two in the afternoon,” she pointed out, as they headed out of the room and down the corridor to Mystra’s old office, now Gale’s. He had almost entirely redecorated it, removing any trace of his ex wife. It had been an oddly therapeutic exercise.

“So? I am in charge of this department now, it’s not like I can be reprimanded for it,” he said, opening the door for her. He walked in behind her, heading to his desk and producing a bottle of vintage whiskey and two glasses. Quinn gave him a look. “Alright, fine, I did also clear my schedule for the afternoon.”

“Just for little old me? I’m flattered,” she laughed, taking the proffered glass of whiskey and inhaling the scent with a sigh. “Doctor Quinn Lightberry. Helms’ tits, that is fucking ridiculous.”

“You’re not a doctor until you get that thesis bound and submitted, thank you,” Gale said with a grin, lifting his glass to clink it against Quinn’s before taking a slow sip. “I’m hoping to make something of a tradition of this,” he admitted. “Daeris’ viva is next week. And then I will retire to the tower and question why I ever went into this profession, because I think it’s turning me grey.”

“Yeah, well, that’s your own fault for taking me on when I told Mystra to kick fucking rocks,” Quinn said, swirling her drink around in its glass before taking a sip of her own.

They drank for a good hour in Gale’s office. Every so often, Gale would insist Quinn leave, that she should celebrate with her own friends. Quinn would point out that she was celebrating with her best friend, Gale would make an uncomfortable sort of harrumph, and they would pour themselves a little more whiskey.

“When are you seeing Orla next?” Gale asked, considering pouring himself another measure before realising that a) the bottle was a little fuzzier than he last remembered and b) they were halfway through it and he was supposed to be saving some for Daeris.

“Tomorrow,” Quinn replied, taking the bottle from him and pouring herself another generous glass before Gale had the presence of mind to stop her. “She’s staying for a tenday this time. She’d love to see Kara again.”

“Come round for dinner,” Gale said. “I’ll cook.”

“Fuck yeah, free food,” Quinn crowed with a fist pump, and Gale had to laugh. “Thank you, by the way. For skipping out on meeting Bianca Brooks to be at my viva.”

“I wouldn’t have missed your viva for anything,” Gale said earnestly. He paused. “Kara’s working it so I can get a book signed.”

Quinn cackled as Gale rolled his eyes at her.

“What time does she get off work? She should come celebrate with us!”

“She’s still banned from the building, remember?” Gale said with a sigh, propping his chin up with one hand. The room was spinning a little faster than a room should. “Felix is nothing if not petty. But she should be done with the signing by now, given that it’s…” He looked up at the now very fuzzy clock on the wall. “Oh, hells, how did it get to five?! Yes, she’ll just be finishing up now.”

“What Felix doesn’t know can’t hurt him,” Quinn said with a grin that Gale did not like in the slightest. With a pop, she disappeared, reappearing moments later with a very confused Kara in tow.

“Quinn!” Gale said, aghast, as Kara burst out laughing. “You cannot go around kidnapping my girlfriend!” He hurried to his office door, quickly locking it in case Felix came by.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” Kara quipped, hopping up onto his desk and snagging his whiskey for herself. “I’m guessing the viva went well, Quinn?”

“No corrections,” Quinn said happily, as Gale took his seat again, grumbling to himself. Kara looked at Gale and mouthed good thing?

Impressive thing, he mouthed back.

“Damn, Quinn, no corrections,” Kara said, sipping at Gale’s whiskey. “We’ll have to celebrate.”

“We’re all having dinner at Gale’s tomorrow, don’t make plans.” Quinn stood, stumbling slightly before catching herself with a hand on the desk. “I’m fine,” she said, as both Gale and Kara opened their mouths with concerned look on their faces. “I’m going to go to the Siren with the others, I said I’d meet them to celebrate or commiserate. You coming?”

“We’ll meet you there,” Kara said, as Gale groaned in his chair at the thought of more drinking. “I think someone needs to sober up a little first.”

“Or fulfil some office based fantasies,” Quinn grinned, unlocking the door and disappearing from the room as Gale spluttered and Kara started laughing again. Once she was gone, Kara locked the door behind her, before skipping round the desk and plonking herself right on Gale’s lap.

“I seem to recall mention of me on this desk covered in nothing but parchment some time ago,” she teased, ruffling Gale’s hair and knocking it out of its tidy half bun. Gale grabbed at her wrists, raising her hands to his lips to kiss the knuckles.

“Yes, well, that was before I drank far more whiskey than is proper for a fourthday afternoon,” he said with a sheepish grin. “How was the signing?”

Gale found himself zoning out a little bit as Kara excitedly told him about her day at the shop. She really was very pretty like this. Perched on his lap, an arm slung around his shoulders, the other waving excitedly around the way it always did when she told a story. And gods damn it, but she smelled like parchment again. She didn’t work at the shop very often these days, but all it took was one shift and he’d happily prostrate himself at her feet for a hint of that scent –

“Gale,” she prompted, and Gale realised with a start that she was waiting for a response. She had a book in her hand. It looked too beaten up to be a new copy. He took it gingerly from her, realising that it was their now very ragged copy of Wilder Magic.

“Please tell me you didn’t show Bianca Brooks this,” he said weakly. “She’s going to think I treat all of my books like some barbarian.”

“Just open it, will you?” Kara replied, kissing his temple as Gale huffed, flicking the book open to the dedication page. Bianca’s handwriting was florid, but he had spent long enough in academia to have no problems reading the cursive.

To Gale,

She clearly loves you very much.

It is rare in this life that we find someone who cherishes every moment they spend in our company. I myself was lucky to find it in my youth, and spend my time writing tales to try and capture that feeling once more. This book was always my favourite – it was heavily based on my own love story (though don’t tell anyone else, as my books are supposedly my children and I am meant to love them all equally.)

I have no doubt that you treasure her too. You sound like a man of good taste, if your book collection is anything to go by.

B.B.

Gale ran a finger carefully over the ink, reading and rereading her inscription. He looked up at Kara, closing the book and carefully putting it down on his desk so he could wrap his arms around her.

“You reminded me what living can feel like,” he said quietly, looking up at her. He felt almost raw. The whiskey had made him perhaps a little more honest than usual, but he couldn’t just keep it in. Kara had taught him to no longer bottle his feelings, that it was alright to express himself. “You see me as I am, and do not find me wanting. I swear you will always be enough for me.”

“So will you, you know,” Kara responded just as softly. She pressed a soft kiss to his forehead as he leant into her touch.

This, Gale knew, was true contentment. And he was never going to let it go.