Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tav sat with her back to the kitchen, slurping at her tea while she squinted against the late morning sun shining in through the window. The weather looked pleasant. It was peaceful, calm. So very unlike the upcoming term.

Shadowheart was stood in the living room door, and her eyes raised at Tav’s attire.

Feeling her flatmate's eyes on her back, she pointed out, “You said no green. You didn’t specify no teal or sage.” 

“Hmmm.” Shadowheart didn’t look surprised -- she had always thought Tav's fondness for green bordered on overkill. “Well, I wasn’t expecting miracles.”

It was less a fashion choice and more a subconscious attempt at photosynthesis.

Tav was glad to be going back to the academy. Really, she was. Unlike most of the staff, she didn’t enjoy the summer break overmuch. The concept of having nothing to tie herself down with wasn’t a pleasant one. She had quickly learnt that routine gave her purpose. When she was alone with her own thoughts, things generally fell apart.

Shadowheart gestured to her tea. “At least that’s new.”

She swirled the tea leaves in her cup. “Trading caffeine for herbal pain relief -– downside of middle-age.”

“Middle-age?  You’re only forty-eight.”

“And most of my students would consider that ancient indeed.” After Tav finished her tea, she sighed, looking around the familiar space. "I suppose it's back to grading papers and dealing with Jaheira's grumbling."

✧˚ · .

Glancing up from her notes, Tav did a quick headcount as her gaze scanned her group.

Nine.

She turned her stare towards the clock, squinting. It was already four after. She sighed.

She thought it didn’t require that much effort for all the students to at least show up for the second lesson.

According to her attendance sheet, there should've been at least eleven students present. A far cry from the first week's fourteen. Still, it was best to just get on with it. It wasn’t fair to keep the rest of the class waiting for just two.

Clearing her throat, she called the group to attention. Even after five semesters as a teaching assistant, she found it hard to begin speaking under the students' collective gaze.

The first twenty minutes went by fast. It was the second class of the semester, which meant they were finally delving into at least some of the course material. Of course, Tav still had to answer some ridiculous questions about attendance and coursework policies, information they could’ve just read in the syllabus they had all received. The minute she posed her first question (regarding the magical and mundane properties of Mugwort), she was met with blank stares.

Silence.

Every semester, she held out hope that her students might arrive having diligently completed their assigned readings. Yet, without fail, she would soon realise that expecting a correct answer from her freshly enrolled students -- who were at least here on time, she had to give them that -- was so far outside the realm of possibilities that Tav would have had better luck teaching mephits Common.

And as she was about to hear their collective sighs of relief upon not having to answer, the wooden door creaked open, revealing the belated arrival of the two absent tiefling girls.

“Sorry,” the left one said in a hurried tone, both of them taking quick steps towards a desk. “We had--“

“Just take a seat,” Tav cut her off. She didn't want to hear what excuses they had for arriving over twenty minutes late.

She tucked a piece of her hair behind a pointed ear as she reached for her lecture notes. All that rushing, for a class that no one seemed to care much for; she likely could have taken Jaheira up on her offer for a coffee, she thought with a small smile.

✧˚ · .

In the ensuing week, Tav looked over the number of figures present with a sombre acceptance.

Six.

As predicted, she hadn’t heard from the ones absent, remaining uncommunicative throughout the past week, not even leaving her a quick note to confirm course policies.

Disappointment swelled within her as the number of attendance continued its steady decline. She looked at the clock on the wall and sighed, starting class at the hour, on the dot. There was no justification in waiting for students who didn't seem to care whether they even knew when to submit their assignments.

Thirty minutes into Tav’s introduction to fundamental botanical principles, a boy slipped into the room, at least trying to be less conspicuous than the other two the previous week.

Suppressing the impulse to roll her eyes, she watched him settle into the seat nearest to the entrance, arranging himself as if to project the idea that he had been there all along.

Her colleagues had often teased her about being too lenient with students, their pleas and difficulties always finding an empathetic audience in her. But the absolute indifference in Aradin’s eyes did nothing to endear him to Tav.

She continued to write out her example on the blackboard when, two minutes later, yet another girl slipped through the door.

She barely resisted the urge to pester her with questions about her tardiness. Tav turned back to the rest of the class, who looked as incredulous as she felt. “I do apologise for the number of interruptions of late,” she told the remainder. “Hopefully next week will go more smoothly.”

✧˚ · .

It didn't, but it was not for a lack of trying.

Tav massaged her temple, depositing the final assignment of the week into the increasingly messy "graded" stack, and glanced at the clock.

It was just past one in the morning; she had certainly had worse.

Still, finishing them always came with a sense of relief. She sent a brief, silent 'thank you' to Silvanus (just in case he was listening) that she taught a straightforward subject like Herbology, where grading boiled down to a mere basis of "right" or "not right."

Even just the thought of trying to grade a handful of philosophical essays would give her a migraine.

She entered the last grade into her ledger and tucked it away in her satchel to give them to Jaheira later. It was always good feedback on how she  did teaching them.

Her mind circled back to the dwindling number of her class.

Time for bed before she became maudlin about not being able to reach every student, she decided. Tav eased out of her chair with a crack of her back and shuffled off to her bedroom. There was no point in dwelling on those who weren't willing to learn, she told herself firmly.

✧˚ · .

Amidst the corridors of Blackstaff Academy, she found herself in desperate need for a walk to let her mind wander freely. As she traipsed down several halls, enchanted sconces lit the way, casting a warm and soothing light.

The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting the tales of legendary wizards and famous adventurers, though Tav never bothered to acquaint herself with them enough to tell who was who. Portraits of the academy's faculty members from its long history also lined the corridor. It felt as if enchantment was woven into the very stones of the institution.

On particularly stressful days, Tav usually spent time in her small corner of the Natural Sciences department's grounds, the greenhouse. There, she had grown her own garden, a haven away from the prying eyes of students and faculty, where she could tend to her beloved plants in peace.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she imagined the earthy scent of the soil and the sweet fragrance of blossoms in full bloom. The gentle sound of leaves rustling always managed to soothe her nerves.

As she was making her way towards said greenhouse, she spotted Halsin -- one of her colleagues -- further down the hall, standing by a large window overlooking the academy's courtyard. He noticed the distress in her eyes immediately and beckoned her over with a warm smile.

"Hello, Tav. You look like you could use a break," he said, motioning for her to join him by the window.

Tav hesitated but then nodded and walked over. The view from the window was stunning, with the autumn sunlight casting a golden glow over the courtyard. The Autumn Equinox was drawing close.

Halsin, ever perceptive, asked, "Should I ask what’s on your mind?"

She wrung her hands together. "I’m feeling a bit lost, and I’m not sure where to begin."

“What’s bothering you, my friend?”

"I have lost over half my students for some Gods forsaken reason. The few who remain hardly make an effort to attend. I may be teetering on the brink of the whole thing being cancelled."

He listened to her carefully, giving her his full attention. Halsin was always good at that; comforting others came naturally to him, almost like he had an innate ability to put people at ease, no matter the circumstances.

"Did you know," he began, "there's an old tale about a wise, ancient oak tree deep in the heart of Tethyr? This tree had seen countless seasons and weathered many storms. It was said that the tree's wisdom was sought by all the creatures of the forest, from the tiniest insects to the mightiest animals."

Halsin's voice took on a soothing quality as he was sharing the story.

"As the story goes," Halsin continued, "the tree's strength and wisdom were not just due to its grand stature but because it had endured seasons when it bore fewer leaves or faced challenges. It knew that, even in the harshest of times, its roots ran deep, anchoring it to the earth, and its branches reached high, catching the rays of the sun. The tree understood that life had its cycles, with moments of delight and moments of loss."

"So, you're saying I'm a tree?" Tav quipped with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

Halsin smiled. “Not quite. However, just like that tree, you possess deep roots of knowledge and a kind spirit. These problems you're facing are but a temporary season upon your sturdy bark."

Tav felt a warmth in her heart as she took in his meaning. “That’s really sweet.”

Halsin's smile widened. "I'm glad you think so."

She gazed out of the window, still lost in thought. The sunlight filtering through the golden leaves seemed to take on a deeper meaning. She turned back to him.

"Enough about me. How's your Magical Creatures class going?”

He looked out the window towards the building in the courtyard where his classes were usually held. "It certainly has its moments. We've been studying the fascinating behaviours of forest nymphs and their interaction with elemental creatures. It's been a journey of discovery, but the students are nothing if not over eager."

Tav nodded, her interest piqued. "It sounds like you're having a good time then. Did anything amusing happen recently?"

"Oh, indeed, you know there's never a shortage of tales from my class. Well, there's this one about a mischievous forest sprite…”

As Halsin continued to share his stories, her worries seemed to dissipate.

✧˚ · .

Tav sat at the small wooden table in her apartment, engrossed in a pile of papers she was grading. Her eyes burned as she squinted at the scrawled handwriting, trying to decipher the instructions for the proper care of Balsam while reviewing one of her student's assignments, the numbers and letters blurring more and more on the page the longer she stared at them.

Shadowheart was meticulously arranging a collection of dried herbs and incense on a shelf, the warm glow of candlelight painting her silver hair a faint yellow. She glanced in Tav’s direction.

“Stare any harder, and you’ll get a headache.”

She chuckled, rubbing her temples gently to alleviate the strain. "I suppose I should take a break. It's just that these assignments are in dire need of my guidance."

Shadowheart walked around the table to peer over her shoulder. “I’m sure your student's knowledge of Balsam etiquette will make or break their botanical careers,” she remarked, arching an eyebrow playfully.

"Well, you never know. It is quite an essential skill," Tav couldn't help but laugh.

Shadowheart had come as a surprise, and not an unpleasant one. With the earnings from her teaching assistant role, sustaining herself alone in a South Ward apartment near the Academy within the Castle Ward would've proven quite a challenge. However, fate intervened, and along came Shadowheart. As two half-elven women, they had quickly found common ground.

“I actually wanted to speak to you about going out sometime. Moonmaiden knows you could use it,” Shadowheart said.

“And do what, exactly?” Tav's eyes met Shadowheart's.

“Eat, drink, let loose. You’ve been so wrapped up in your books and duties it’s gotten hard to simply have time for a conversation.”

"I guess I've been cooped up too long. You’re right," she cast her gaze downwards, "I'm sorry if I've been ignoring you."

Shadowheart gave her a chiding smile. "We could visit the Dragon?"

"That would be nice, actually. We haven't been there in a while," Tav considered.

"I'll send word to Karlach and Wyll, and see if they're up for joining us. Astarion is still bartending there." 

The Flagon Dragon was where their little group had spent countless nights catching up and exchanging stories. The four of them would usually sit in their customary corner while Astarion played the role of both bartender and companion, ensuring the drinks flowed freely, and often sitting down for a drink with them himself, despite being on the clock. He would depart later in the night with some new conquest for a more intimate rendezvous upstairs. Meanwhile, the remaining four would continue their talks well into the wee hours of the morning.

"How long has it been exactly? I remember we met up a little after Midsummer," Tav mentioned in a questioning tone.

“When Karlach almost beat up that poor drow for coming onto Astarion too hard? Yeah, that was about a tenday later.”

She had  always been protective of her friends.

“You know, a lot of my students have been skipping class lately, some dropping it altogether and I haven’t the foggiest idea why. Wyll might know something about that,” Tav lamented, pondering if Wyll, a professor in his own right, might have insights into the matter.

“Did any of them say why?”

“No, nothing. It’s frustrating, and I’m eager to find out why,” she said, a newfound determination lacing her voice.

“Good luck with that. In the meantime, we could figure out what to make for dinner,” Shadowheart noted with a touch of practicality.

"I can always make your mother's butternut squash soup."

"Perhaps later," she replied with a faint smile, "I think I'm in the mood for something savoury."

"Well, I think we have some leftover meatloaf, we could make some sandwiches. Right?”

Her eyes lit up with approval. "Wonderful idea."

Tav padded softly into the kitchen, grabbed two plates from the cabinet and took out silverware from the drawer below it. Shadowheart had stepped into the kitchen as well. It wasn’t big, just barely enough room for three Karlachs to stand comfortably, but it was enough for them.

Shadowheart turned her nose up at the tomatoes Tav pulled out, and she let out a short chuckle. "I still don't understand how you don't like tomatoes."

"It turns your sandwich all soggy! I can't understand how you do," Shadowheart defended.

Tav flicked a piece of tomato at her.

"Oh, now you're in for it!"

✧˚ · .

Tav was making her way towards the library when someone from behind her called out her name, making her halt.

"Oh, Tav! Could we have a word in my office?" Ms. Silverhand asked as she spotted her in the corridor, the sound of her footsteps announcing her approach.

She held her breath. Tav had had a gnawing feeling for the past week that this would happen.

"Of course," she said, and followed her through the side door and then down the hall to Ms. Silverhand's office.

She slid into a seat opposite her as gracefully as she could manage, her fingers subtly fidgeting.

"What's the matter?"

"I'm afraid we need to move your and Jaheira's subject to the next semester due to the low enrollment numbers. You have seven students left."

As Tav grappled with the news, her posture slouched slightly, betraying her unease. This couldn't happen. The introduction course to Herbology often inspired students into the field of study, similar to how she herself came to be part of the Natural Sciences department. Why were the students dropping her class so soon…?

"I recognise your passion for the subject, and I'm truly sorry for having to reschedule."

“I understand,” she nodded in acquiescence, clasping her hands together on her lap.

"Are there any other matters you'd like to address?"

“Oh, um-- No, thank you,” she said and quickly got up from her seat, looking flustered. With a swift nod to Ms. Silverhand, she left the room, turning back the way she had come.

As Tav walked down the corridor, the weight of the recent decision pressed heavily on her mind.

She had poured countless hours into crafting the syllabus, helping Jaheira with designing the lectures, and nurturing the intellectual growth of her students. The thought of that empty slot on her schedule gnawed at her.

Tav questioned herself. Had she failed to make the material engaging enough? Had she overlooked the needs of her students? Maybe it was because she was still fairly new to teaching, but to see one of her classes discarded like that felt like a personal rejection.

After their class had concluded, the students began to mingle in the corridor. One of them drew Tav's attention away from her thoughts, recognizing the girl as one of her former students from the rescheduled herbology course.

She was heading in the opposite direction from where Tav was standing, so she took hurried steps to catch up to her side.

"Wait,”

The girl  -- Lakrissa, if her memory served her correctly -- turned around, her brow furrowing in mild confusion. Her gaze settled on Tav, who had caught up to her, breathless from her haste.

"Oh, hello," Lakrissa greeted her former teacher, looking a bit taken aback. Perhaps she felt a bit guilty for abandoning the class.

Tav offered her a small smile, appreciating that she had at least stopped to listen to her. "Lakrissa! Hi. I'm sorry for startling you, I've just received some-- well. Some news. My class has been cancelled. I simply wanted to understand what the nature of the conflict was for most of you?"

Lakrissa hesitated for a moment, considering Tav's question.

"Well," she began, "it was mainly the timing of the class. I had another class that overlapped with it, and it was one I couldn't afford to miss."

Tav nodded understandingly. "I see. Well, should you desire to explore Herbology again, it has been rescheduled for next semester."

Lakrissa offered a slightly stilted 'Thank you,' before they parted ways and Tav continued to watch the students mingle in the corridor, reflecting on the girl’s words.

✧˚ · .

“I just don’t understand,” Tav whined, slumped over in the teacher’s lounge. “Why bother signing up for the course if you’re not even going to show up, and then drop it entirely?”

Jaheira looked at her sympathetically over her Amnian coffee. “You can’t convert them all, cub. Some of them will even end up being, horror of horrors, trade majors.”

At that, Tav had to laugh along. There were always a handful of new prospects with dreams of being healers and alchemists who didn’t realise there’d be quite so much science involved. The teaching assistants often kept bets over whether they’d end up being Magical Artistry or Commerce majors instead.

Although the other assistants, and even the professors, joked about it, it hurt Tav every time to lose a student to another subject. In her heart, she believed her class was a gem, a source of knowledge and inspiration for those who attended, and to see them running off for other departments with their tails between their legs was always disheartening.

Tav sighed, her shoulders slumping further. "I just wish they'd appreciate the subtler beauty of it, the intricate relationship between plants and nature."

Jaheira patted her on the back. "Well, you know students, always chasing the next shiny thing."

"But what class is so important for Natural Sciences-oriented students to just drop Herbology? And who in the Nine Hells is teaching it?"

Jaheira chuckled at Tav's frustration, fully understanding her dedication to Herbology and her students.

She leaned in, her tone a conspiratorial whisper, "I heard it's Professor Dekarios's class they're running to. Some kind of revolutionary study of Illusion magic, they say."

Tav's eyebrows shot up, a mixture of intrigue and exasperation on her face. "Dekarios? Is that... no, I don’t believe I’ve heard his name before. Who is he?"

She shook her head, trying to recall the name.

Jaheira pursed her lips. “I don’t have much information on him either. He’s a new professor, started this year.”

Tav frowned.

"Needless to say, he's creating quite a stir on campus. From the few conversations I've overheard, most people seem to think he is Elminster Aumar incarnate."

Tav was still frowning over the new information when she realised she had completely missed the end of their conversation. Jaheira took another sip of her steaming drink and continued.

“Future advice, though; don't schedule a class at the same time as one of his."

“Yeah, I’ll try to keep that in mind.” Tav sipped her own coffee, pondering the situation. The idea of losing students to a newcomer who was being hailed as the next wizard of great renown was a sour dose of reality. She felt a mix of curiosity and competition brewing inside her.

Jaheira had a smile playing on her lips at Tav's reaction. "Don't take it too hard, cub. Competition can be healthy. And who knows, you might even pick up a few tips on engaging students from this Dekarios."

Chapter Text

The next morning was when her cancelled class would’ve taken place, so instead of sleeping in like Jaheira had suggested, she got up early and made her way to the main building.

She had tried to ask around last night -- which meant asking a confused Halsin and one of his Magical Creatures students -- but no one had any more information about Professor Dekarios. That really left her with only one option: a visit to the Magic and Conjuration department.

It was another beautiful morning, as though nature was making up for the rough start to the school year. Tav strolled across the campus, feeling the warmth of the morning sun on her face, and smiled as she thought about seeing Wyll again.

As she approached the building that housed the Magic department, she took a moment to appreciate the serenity; the air was crisp, and the trees were starting to display the hints of autumn's arrival. She couldn't help but smile a little wider, appreciating the familiar sights that made the campus feel like home. 

Upon entering the department's bustling hallway, Tav spotted a few other professors engaged in animated discussions about harnessing the enchantments of the Feywild. She nodded to them in passing and finally reached Wyll's office. She tapped lightly on the open door frame.

"Wyll, you have a moment?" 

Wyll, engrossed in a stack of parchments, looked up with a grin of recognition. "Tav! Of course, always got time for you." He gestured to a chair. "Come in, come in. What's on your mind?"

Tav took a seat, crossing her legs. "I had to cancel one of my classes because I lost over half my students to some magic course. I was hoping you could..."

“Let me guess,” Wyll interrupted, “you’re here about Gale Dekarios.”

Tav had no doubt she looked rather astonished -- certainly her mouth was hanging open. It took her a moment to regain her composure as she struggled to find her words, her mouth eventually snapping closed.

“How did you...” she let her words trail off.

"He's making quite a splash, it seems. New blood in the department can do that. Students tend to be drawn to the unknown like moths to a flame."

Tav nodded. "But what is it about him that's drawing them away from other courses?"

Wyll chuckled. "Perhaps it's the allure of magic that can't be found in nature. Magic, Tav, it's always fascinated people. The mysteries and the possibilities. But don't let it discourage you. You're not the first person to have their class dropped in favour of his, nor will you be the last."

"Is this a common occurrence?" She asked. Wyll smirked.

"You'll understand after you meet him," He said, and there was no doubt in Tav's mind what he was talking about. Against her better judgement, she felt that pang of jealousy in her chest again. She glanced around the cluttered office, trying to focus on something else.

Wyll leaned towards the filing cabinet sitting behind him, retrieving what was no doubt Dekarios's timetable and handed it to her. "If your cancelled class was at 9, then he should be in Karsus Hall at the moment.” 

She gave him a grateful smile and began reviewing the timetable for Dekarios's class. Now, she found herself even more puzzled, as her Natural Sciences students were opting for a Magic course instead. It was utterly confusing. How had they managed to enrol? Not every one of them would have fulfilled the required prerequisites, surely. Could this Dekarios -- Gale, Wyll had named him -- be so appealing that they would attend classes with zero interest in actual coursework?

Or was he simply the department’s newest eye candy masquerading as a professor?

It was a ridiculous theory, but somehow, the best she could come up with.

“What do you think of him?”

“He’s highly knowledgeable and charismatic, an all around nice guy if you’re into the scholar type,” Wyll offered, and she knew Wyll wasn't, just like he knew Tav was, “but personally, I found him a bit arrogant. However, it’s not as if he didn’t have anything to boast about.”

As the conversation fell into a brief silence, she decided to switch topics. "How's Karlach doing?"

“She’s well, got some new mercenary job that is demanding a lot of her time and focus. We’ve actually moved out of the flat on Maple Lane, it was a real--”

“Shite-hole,” she supplied with a grin.

Wyll’s face contorted into disgust. “That’s being generous. I'm still convinced that we had a pixie infestation in the walls. The cost of exterminating them alone would have far surpassed any savings we got from the cheap rent."

“Good thing you’re out of there,” she said with a smile. “Shadowheart and I were thinking of getting the band together for an evening soon. She sent you a letter with the details.”

Wyll's expression brightened at the thought. "Would be a welcome change of pace, that. Grading these papers is slowly making me lose my sanity," he admitted.

Tav, satisfied with the information and not wanting to overstay her welcome, stood.

“Thank you, for the help,” she expressed as she rose from her seat. She circled his desk, extending a one-armed embrace to bid him farewell.

"Any time," he replied while reciprocating the gesture. 

She gave him a warm smile and turned towards the door.

✧˚ · .

Exiting his office, she glanced down the hallway at the looming clock. It read 10:25, which meant she could still make it to the latter part of Dekarios's class. She was eager to see this Dekarios in action, but beyond that, her conversation with Wyll had ignited her curiosity.

She ventured towards Karsus Hall, her gaze tracing the magical displays that adorned the building. It was a place she had only explored when visiting Wyll's office, often to have lunch together.

She couldn't help but wonder what he would be like. It's not every day that a professor captured the hearts and attention of so many, enticing them to attend his lectures for more than just academic reasons.

In her imagination, she conjured a man with a self-assured charm and a quick smile, yet with a mysterious aura about him. She pictured an office filled with old, ancient tomes, to always have a manuscript at hand -- less a collection, more a hobby he would enjoy.

She wandered through the halls, her thoughts consuming her as she looked for the correct lecture hall. She was so preoccupied that she nearly missed her destination, only catching her mistake when she heard words emanating from one particular room.

At the entrance, she paused for a moment before mustering the courage to push open the grand, creaking wooden doors.

The room was almost filled to capacity, only a few people glancing in Tav's direction, most too enraptured by the man standing at the front of the room. 

How could a human being look so good?

He was elegantly clad in a deep purple sweater, the neckline offering a glimpse at the white collared shirt he wore underneath, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His lengthy, dark, and gently tousled hair framed the chiselled features of his face. His graceful frame exuded effortless confidence that was equally evident in his speech and every gesture. The combination of his commanding presence, piercing gaze, and that captivating smile made it impossible not to be drawn to him.

She understood .

He was in the middle of explaining a cantrip, but it took several minutes before she made sense of the words that passed across his lips. 

He held out his hand, and the tip of his index finger began to glow with a subtle, ethereal light. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured a shimmering, translucent butterfly that danced before the students.

"The Minor Illusion cantrip," Gale said, "is an art of deception and wonder. With it, you can create illusions so real, they can confound your foes or enchant your friends." The butterfly hovered close to the ground and transformed into a small cat. The feline image prowled in a circle, its tail swishing and paws batting at the air, nearly tangible to the touch. "It allows you to manifest your imagination, to shape reality to your whims."

Gale's voice was filled with enthusiasm as he continued, "The beauty of this cantrip lies in its versatility. You can conjure objects, creatures, or even simple sounds. It is the art of making the unreal seem so convincingly real that one might question their own senses."

The class sat in rapt attention, taking a moment to let Gale's words sink in. The cat illusion playfully leaped onto the nearby podium, its amber eyes seemingly gazing at each student with a mischievous gleam.

Gale walked closer to the illusion, his expression locked onto it, as if communicating with the magical creation. "But remember, as wizards, we must wield our abilities responsibly. Minor Illusion can be a tool of entertainment, of intrigue, but it can also be a means of deception. Use it wisely and ethically, for the line between illusion and reality can blur, and trust can be easily shattered."

As he finished speaking, he looked up at his audience and let his gaze sweep across the room, and Tav could swear she felt a shiver run down her spine as his eyes briefly locked onto hers. 

Perhaps Wyll had a point. She could see why so many students abandoned their coinciding classes. Hells, had Tav known, she might have dropped her own class too.

"Could anyone give me an example situation for casting a Minor Illusion?" Gale asked.

The place had fallen into an entranced silence, and it seemed no one had answered Dekarios's question. She thought it wasn't that the audience hadn't heard the question; it was rather just that they were so engrossed in the melodic flow of his words that they had temporarily forgotten to catch their meaning.

As the silence stretched longer than Tav would have tolerated in her own classroom, it was then that she decided to break the silence and offer an answer. However, as the words left her lips, she realised she may have been too quick to respond. 

Too late, she realised as she hadn't even raised her hand, and it really might not have been her place to answer.

"One may cast Minor Illusion when finding themselves in the wilderness, having to fend off possible enemies," Tav began, explaining her perspective. "Let's say there's a wild boar near where one has made their camp. They could use it to lure the boar away and avoid having to face the animal."

Gale's eyes sparkled with interest as he took in her words. "Most excellent," he complimented, as if her thoughts were something to be cherished.

Oh, to have those eyes focused solely on her, Dekarios's full attention instantly addictive. She wanted nothing more than to be the centre of his focus and to hold his unwavering attention forever.

“Does anyone know what this cantrip’s sole weakness is?” his next question hung in the air.

It seemed like she would need to rely on winging it with whatever magic had rubbed off on her from hanging around Wyll and Jaheira’s nature spells. She mentally cursed her young self for not showing any interest in the arcane arts.

Tav couldn't resist the urge to speak again, her voice steady and confident. “The Silence spell.”

Gale's lips curled into a smile, “Please continue, Miss...”

“Tav,” she replied, realising all of her former students were probably staring at her in horror. The professor didn’t seem to notice. 

“Go on, Miss Tav,” he gently corrected, and Tav had to swallow in the intensity of Dekarios's gaze.

“One can counteract Illusions with the Silence spell,” she pressed on. “When properly executed, it can stop Minor Illusion's effects." A shy smile played on her lips.

Gale's eyes, a mirror to his genuine interest, remained fixed on her. “Exceptionally put, Miss Tav,” he complimented at last, then turned his attention back to the room, elaborating on her response. "The Silence spell is an important tool for spellcasters. Its primary function is to end the magical effects that are in place...”

Oh, Gods, he had such a lovely, lovely voice.

✧˚ · .

As Gale meticulously wrote out the weekend's reading assignments on the blackboard, he mentally sifted through the official class roster, wondering if anyone by the name of Tav was listed there.

"We'll delve into Producing Flame and Light next week, so I strongly urge you to have thoroughly studied Chapter Four," Gale announced after he had inscribed the relevant page numbers. He then pivoted to address the class, concluding with a casual wave of his hand, "That'll be all for today. Have a wonderful weekend, everyone."

Lae'zel arrived near the end of the lecture, beginning to gather Gale's belongings. One thing Gale disliked was lingering after a class to answer questions; he had office hours for that very purpose. However, today didn't seem as dreadful as usual, as he had managed to inspire some participation this time.

"Where did they all come from, I wonder?" he mused aloud.

Lae'zel responded with a noncommittal sound, "Definitely not out of thin air."

Gale frowned and continued, "Half of them aren't even on the class list."

His words were more to himself now, as initiating a conversation with Lae'zel seldom yielded more than a humbling experience.

The issue extended beyond just this particular class. In fact, it was a recurring theme across all his classes. Every lecture hall was nearly filled to capacity. It wasn't that he resented their thirst for knowledge or their appreciation for his teachings; that was commendable, more than commendable. But the practical question remained: how was he supposed to keep track of all these students? Would they be expected to grade extra papers?

Gale's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. He noticed two girls nudging each other, seemingly to muster the courage to approach him. Luckily for him, their intention wavered the moment Miss Tav strode past them, giving them a subtle nod of acknowledgement as she made her way to the front of the classroom. There was no hesitation in her movements; the girl exuded an air of confidence, as if she owned the entire school. She came to a poised stop in front of the podium.

Gale met her gaze and immediately regretted it. Her eyes were nothing short of captivating, reminiscent of a lush green forest on a crisp spring morning. It wasn't like him to notice such things.

"Miss Tav," he finally said, when the girl continued to observe him, her head slightly tilted, hands tucked into the pockets of her cardigan.

Yet, the girl’s eyes weren’t her only source of beauty.

Gale shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. He knew better than to entertain such notions. He had experienced the unsettling consequences of that type of attention before, and it had left him scarred. Well, more than he was already scarred, so perhaps it’s not saying much, but it was certainly not a pleasant memory. His previous experience with Professor Mystra had taught him that Gale should stay as far away from his students as humanly possible.

"Can I just say, the lecture was great," she said with a warm smile, "and I wanted to extend a warm welcome to Blackstaff."

There was something decidedly attractive about the way Miss Tav positioned herself, a thought Gale promptly quashed as soon as it arose. He slung his satchel over his shoulder, trying to maintain a professional demeanour.

"And, naturally, as someone new, if you ever need help navigating the campus or need recommendations for the cosiest reading spots, please feel free to reach out."

Gale hesitated, uncertain of how to respond. After a moment, he mustered a sincere reply, "Thank you for the offer, Miss Tav."

Miss Tav nodded, her smile unwavering, and then turned to head back the way she came. 

Gale watched her with a mix of emotions -- gratitude for the offer, a hint of curiosity about her, and a lingering reminder of his boundaries. 

But as Miss Tav was nearing the door, Gale couldn't deny that a tiny ember of warmth had been kindled within him, a spark of connection that he hadn't expected.

Out in the hallway, Lae'zel immediately fell into step beside him.

"Do you have the class list?" he asked.

Without pausing, Lae'zel delved into her bag, locating a piece of paper, and handed it over. Gale took the list and quickly skimmed it, searching for the name Tav. However, her name didn't appear. She was one of his sit-ins, then, and the number of such students was becoming absurdly high.

After bidding Lae'zel goodbye, Gale found himself involuntarily musing about Miss Tav. She was likely as young as he had been when he first encountered Mystra -- she didn't look a day older than eighteen. He tried to envision taking advantage of his influence over Lae'zel, but the thought was inconceivable. Scanning the passing crowd of students, he found no attraction there either. It was clear that Miss Tav was an anomaly, a rare occurrence in his otherwise uneventful academic life.

Not long after his graduation, Mystra had considered him too old for her tastes and swiftly moved on to another unsuspecting student to drag through her bed. It remained one of Gale's more bitter experiences.

He came to the conclusion that what he was feeling was likely just the thrill of having an eager and talented student in his class, even if she wasn't officially enrolled for credit. That must be it. With this settled in his mind, he decided to head out to grab a coffee, looking forward to the simple pleasure of a warm beverage to clear his thoughts.

Chapter Text

The Flagon Dragon hummed with lively chatter and clinking glasses, the busy night at the tavern providing a backdrop to Karlach's animated retelling of a recent mercenary escapade. But Tav remained lost in a dreamy smile, seemingly transported to another realm.

"––and he landed a series of strikes so fucking fast,” she stopped for a second when she noticed her friend hadn’t been listening, “Tav, hey, are you with us, soldier?"

"Don’t bother with her, she’s been like that for the past two days," Shadowheart casually informed Karlach.

Wyll, with a wry smile of exasperation, asked, "So the visit to Dekarios’s lecture went rather well, I take it?" 

He had no idea just how well it went. Tav's mind was still dwelling on the Minor Illusion lecture that seemed to echo in her thoughts.

“Awww, she’s fallen in love! I don’t think I’ve seen you like this since Rion,” Karlach playfully cooed.

Tav, slightly embarrassed, pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh, Gods, not this again…"

Astarion, with impeccable timing, gracefully approached their table. "Please don’t tell me our dear Tav is going to embarrass herself with a drunken love confession for the third time in two years."

"The first one doesn't count! And the other one was to the same person. Years apart," Tav defended herself.

"Whatever helps you digest the embarrassment, darling," Astarion teased with a smirk, squeezing himself into the booth beside Tav. With practised ease, he distributed drinks to everyone, Tav opting for a refreshing cider.

"So this enigmatic figure that has captured Tav's interest -- who exactly is he?" Astarion inquired, his curiosity piqued.

"New professor of Illusions in my department," Wyll supplied with a knowing smile. "He’s managed to lure away half of Blackstaff’s students to his lecture."

"Oh my, and she got caught in the crossfire?" Astarion mused, eyebrows raised in mock concern.

Tav nodded, her gaze momentarily distant. "Bingo."

Shadowheart conspiratorially leaned forward, “I believe she’s already planned the wedding."

“Do you even know if he's single?” Astarion teased, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

Tav sighed, “I don't know if he's single. But it's not like I've had the chance to casually slip that into conversation. You know, a nonchalant 'Oh, by the way, are you seeing anyone?' It’s not that simple. We had a brief chat after his lecture concluded, that’s all."

”Did you ask him out?" Karlach asked, trying to get to the point.

Pausing, Tav considered the question. ”...Kind of."

Astarion, not one to let ambiguity slide, playfully pressed, “What does ‘kind of’ asking someone out look like? Did you stare at him wistfully while silently casting love spells in the back of his class?” 

Tav shot him a look.

“I welcomed him to Blackstaff, offered to show him around campus, and he thanked me. That was it."

"So you have a tour date?"

Tav considered the question. ”...No. No, I don’t think so."

“Seriously, how do you know if this guy is not married or something?" Shadowheart questioned.

It was a fair question. However, Tav operated under the assumption that everyone in Waterdeep she took an interest in was both single and potentially interested in her. This approach had previously led to a rather embarrassing love confession to Jaheira’s daughter shortly after their interactions became more frequent. Despite the flirting and their heartfelt conversations, Rion had to gently let Tav down, explaining that she wasn’t currently seeking anything serious. Undeterred, Tav found herself repeating the same mistake close to ten months ago, fueled by one too many cups of mulled wine on the night of Simril.

After a pause that lingered a tad too long, Shadowheart offered a statement rather than a question. “You don't."

"I'm working on it."

Shadowheart leaned back in her chair. "Considering how the last two times ended, I wouldn't be shocked if you decide to spill your heart out to him at the next holiday gathering."

Wyll chuckled, shooting Tav a teasing glance. "Perhaps I should play matchmaker through the department."

“I'd rather not turn this into a romance novel, thank you very much."

Wyll's grin widened. "Or we could recruit Astarion here to work his charm on him. Imagine the 'accidental' meetings!"

Astarion raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "What? No, I'm just here for the entertainment."

“Speaking of entertainment, have any of you got plans for Brightswords coming up this weekend?" Karlach interjected.

Tav's eyes lit up with excitement. "Oh, the City Watch is gearing up for a tournament on the Academy grounds this year! I’ll probably spend my afternoon when I don’t have class checking it out."

Having only recently moved to Waterdeep from Baldur's Gate, Tav was still getting used to the vibrant celebrations of the city. Back home, the worship of various Gods was common, but the diverse array of holidays in Waterdeep was a novelty.

As the holiday drew near, colourful banners started adorning the city’s streets, and an infectious cheer permeated the air. The celebration of Brightswords regularly involved hosting a parade for the glory of battle and swordfighting, and had both old and new residents eagerly awaiting its arrival, often inspiring new recruits to join the City Watch.

Karlach leaned in, "That sounds fucking awesome! Last year at the parade, this guy with a greatsword was like a whirlwind. Every strike sent the poor new candidates flying. I could've watched him for hours.”

Astarion was twirling a strand of his hair in disinterest. “I don't believe there's a more boring celebration in this city than this. If I wanted to watch two people engage in smashing their wood together I would simply-– "

Wyll swiftly cut him off with an interruption. "Count me in as well, Tav."

She grinned. "Great! We'll make a day of it."

Each of them sipped on their drinks before Karlach threw in a new topic. "In other news, we don't have to debate the merits of swamp-life anymore. Got a new apartment up in the Sea Ward. You guys are welcome to help renovate."

"So this meeting was just to recruit cheap labour under the guise of friends spending time together?" Shadowheart asked with a sly grin.

Wyll laughed, raising his glass in mock acknowledgment. "Well, when you put it that way, it sounds less noble. But seriously, we wouldn't mind the extra minds and hands.”

Astarion looked delighted, "How exciting! I would gladly volunteer for the position of leading the interior design."

“Maybe I'll pick up some useful spells for home improvement. Count me in," Tav nodded.

“You could win Dekarios over with your renovation spell prowess,” Shadowheart leaned back with a smirk.

“Why do I even come to these Dragon meetings anymore?”

✧˚ · .

Gale opened his wardrobe and peered in at the clothes hanging on the right side, taking his favourite sweater out, “That’s everything.”

Clothes ready. Satchel packed. Dinner waiting on the kitchen counter. All ready.

 Now the hard part: with nothing to do for another two hours, he had to make his own entertainment.

He could read. But he didn’t have the head for a brand new book today. Besides, which one? -– there was an entire bookcase in the corner of his bedroom with books he needed to read. Picking a book would be a task in itself.

 He padded over to the other bookcase which contained his read books (the one that took up a wall about two metres high and four metres across) and browsed some classics. He’d never struggled re-reading books.

He pulled out a copy of The Folly and the Fall, went to his sofa and got comfortable. The ambient quiet of his living space embraced him as he opened the book.

Around the corner, a tressym appeared, leaping onto his lap with an elegant grace.

“Hello, Tara, what have you been doing outside for the past week?”

“Chasing pigeons, primarily. Poaching opportunities dwindle grievously during this time of the year, Mr. Dekarios. May I ask what book has captured your attention?”

“Regrettably, nothing new. It merely serves as a diversion to occupy the next two hours until I must leave for the academy.”

“Oh, yes. You said you were eager to begin. Is it going well?”

Gale made a non-committal sound, "It's still early, the students are gradually adapting. However, it appears my lectures have garnered considerable popularity," she had no idea just how much, "and I have a nice batch of young minds, I believe." There were students spread across his classes who genuinely seemed prepared to go above and beyond what was expected of them. 

His thoughts inevitably drifted toward the young student, Tav. He had no idea why the girl was so firmly stuck in his head, but it did not feel apt to articulate these musings to Tara.

"And how is your office? I do hope you've found a chair that provides good support for those knees."

Gale leaned back with a faint smile. "Indeed, the chair in my office is surprisingly well-cushioned. And there's a convenient Apothecary just a stone's throw away from campus, with an endless array of joint relief salves. I’ve got nothing to complain about.”

Tara's ears perked up. “A visit to your office might be in order then, Mr. Dekarios. If your tower is any indication, I can't imagine the chaos of scattered parchment, trinkets and books strewn about."

"Oh, we've been over this, Tara! Reviewing notes and gathering my thoughts for the day requires a place of quiet and concentration. It's not chaos; it's-–”

"-–a sanctuary of cerebral activity, yes, I know. And that does not stop it from being a mess," she retorted.

"You're worse than my mother sometimes," Gale said, feigning irritation before breaking into a smile.

"Have you had a chance to speak with your mother since Mrs. Dekarios’s visit last week?" 

"Morena saw me just two days past. Why? Has anything transpired that would raise her concerns?" Gale gently petted Tara's fur.

"Not at all, not at all! You know how she worries about you, and going to see her seems to alleviate some of that worry for her."

"That's true," Gale admitted.

"Does it bother you that she worries?" Tara asked, her tone softening.

His thoughts briefly wandered to the memories of his mother's protective nature. She's always cared for him deeply. Her worries kept him close growing up, and even when he was away at Candlekeep in a research position, she found ways to stay connected, insisting on daily updates through sending stones. 

"She's always been this way, even when I was a child. Her concern for my well-being is a testament to her love, but sometimes, it can be a bit overwhelming. I’m thirty-one years old, I would like to think I can take a walk on my own without incident."

The rest of their conversation continued in the same vein, Tara asking a few more questions about his course material and the school environment. She purred softly as Gale satisfied her with detailed answers. 

She hopped off of him as Gale started preparing to leave -– an easy thing, considering he had everything laid out already. 

Gale’s normal walk would have been to leave an hour before his duties as a professor started and take twenty to thirty minutes to walk around the Castle Ward. Though his home was nestled close to the academy, he enjoyed the refreshing air and the chance to engage with his thoughts. 

On days such as this when he learned that it was close to raining, he put on his shoes, threw on his coat, grabbed his satchel and headed out a good hour or so earlier than he usually would.

The city was so different at this time of day and Gale could never find the words for how much he enjoyed having these early walks -- which is why he could hardly wait for winter to come. There were just so many more people walking around. Children laughing and swinging from their parents' hands, or people rushing by on quick feet as they headed off to their own duties. Most of the shops and restaurants were decorated with lights and he enjoyed taking his time looking at their colourful displays. 

Not even a whole five minutes up the road from his home, he could already tell that tomorrow morning he was going to need more medication. He was far too tired for someone who had woken up not three hours ago, and he could feel himself getting weaker, the weight on his chest growing heavier. Food would help offset that feeling for the remainder of the day, but if he was to put off his medication for another day, he would have trouble getting up and moving around the next day no matter how much food he ate.

With that in mind, he ducked into the restaurant at the end of the street to get himself a box of quipper fish and hundur sauce to go. He could just sit in the restaurant and eat there, but he’d much rather get the fresh air that he craved all that time. He simply couldn’t deny that being stuck surrounded by four walls was an itch under his skin after the year he spent in self-isolation. It’s why he introduced so many potted plants to his balcony. There was nothing better than being surrounded by open air and plants.

Once he had his box of food, Gale was soon near Main Street and followed it up before turning left, pausing over a bridge so he could look out at the water of the canal he was walking over. There were a few geese floating back and forth in the water with the rest of their friends. Gale watched the reeds behind them gently sway in the wind until he was halfway done with his fish before he continued on his walk.

As he neared campus, the grandeur of the institution welcomed him like an old friend. The towering spires and ivy-covered walls were a welcome sight to him.

Gale’s thoughts turned to the topic he was scheduled to cover in his upcoming class -- specifically, the seemingly innocuous cantrips of Produce Flame and Light. He remembered when his own classmates had eagerly attempted to recreate them. A particularly enthusiastic boy from his class had nearly blinded their instructor with an unintentionally intense burst of light.

A notion crossed his mind --  should he haste a last-minute investment in special spectacles for himself, just in case history decided to repeat itself in his lecture?

✧˚ · .

The gentle sun of Thursday morning had enveloped Tav as she spent the better part of the day tending to plants in her garden as she listened to Jaheira ramble on about the potential of mixing Wolfsbane with other ingredients.

As she knelt beside a bed of herbs, Jaheira continued her discourse, “-Now, if Wolfsbane is mixed with a stronger dose of moonflower essence, that could yield a poison we have yet to explore the effects of."

Tav, hands deep in the soil, nodded in agreement, her mind shifting between the words of her mentor and the lecture she was planning to attend later that day. "Mmhm. Sounds... potent.”

Jaheira narrowed her gaze, watching Tav with growing suspicion. “Of course, moonflower has healing potential too. Mixed with chamomile, it might make a decent remedy for stress. What do you think?”

Tav’s eyes remained fixed on the earth, her attention seemingly elsewhere. “Oh. Yeah. Healing. That could work. I could... experiment with it here, maybe."

Jaheira tilted her head, lips twitching. “Document the results, even. For future reference,” here she paused, then leaned forward in her chair to make sure Tav had nothing to add, “but I see I’ve lost you completely.”

“What? No, I’m listening--”

Jaheira just smiled, slapping her thigh. “Not buying it, cub. I know that face. You’re not thinking about moonflowers, you’re thinking about someone. So? Who is it? Don’t tell me it’s Dekarios.”

Tav fixed her with a flat look. First her friends, now Jaheira? While Gale Dekarios was indeed a very attractive man, Tav did not believe in love at first sight. He had certainly piqued her interest and she was interested in getting to know him better, but so far that was it.

“It’s not like that.”

“Fine, fine,” She sighed and reached for the book always left out in the middle of the table. “I’ll drop this and go back to my mixture hypotheses if you can answer me one question.”

Here they go. Jaheira knew Tav in great detail by that point and she felt that she was going to hate her question. “Great. What is it?”

Jaheira’s face turned into a slow, wicked grin as she perused the writing, “What’s the colour of his eyes?”

Oh no. She knew all too well that if Tav paid enough attention to pick up on the colour of someone’s eyes, then she was definitely crushing on them. In this case, that’s definitely not a question she was going to answer.

“I didn’t notice,” she replied as she dug into the dirt.

Jaheira's mischievous grin widened as she enjoyed the moment of catching Tav off guard. Turning a page, she couldn't resist a playful jab at her.

“Brown,” she stated matter of factly, her eyes still fixed on the book sprawled out before her.

Tav, caught in the act of soil digging, shot a startled glance over her shoulder. "How do you know?" she asked with a note of genuine surprise in her voice.

Without looking up, Jaheira continued her casual reading. “You only go that particular shade of red when the eyes are brown.”

Tav's cheeks betrayed her, flushing crimson in response to the revelation. She instinctively brought her soil-covered hands to her face, trying to shield her embarrassment. The warmth of her own skin against the cool touch of the soil only amplified the truth.

Jaheira's chuckle lit up the garden. “Don’t get so embarrassed; you were the same way with Rion.”

The mention of her name elicited a groan from Tav. "I thought we agreed to never bring that up again!" she protested, feeling betrayed on all accounts. Betrayed by her body and by her so-called mentor.

Jaheira finally glanced up from her book. “You know  you can't hide these things from me. I’ve been through this with you before. Now, spare no details. What's got you all flustered over the new Magic professor?”

“There’s just something about him that draws you in. He is scheduled to have a lecture later today actually.”

“Sounds like you are planning to attend.”

“As a matter of fact, I am. I also plan to pick up the required reading list from the academy library on my way there. Additionally, I have a humble favour to ask of you.”

Jaheira arched an eyebrow.

“I’m going to need you to teach me everything you know about Illusion Magic within the next fifty minutes.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to allow Dekarios to get to know the authentic you, rather than scrambling to acquire magical knowledge when, merely a week ago, you did not give a damn about the arcane arts?” Jaheira inquired.

Tav threw her a look. “You make it sound like I’m faking everything. I’m not. I just--” She paused, searching for the right words, and sighed. “Do you remember when I spent weeks learning everything about sword-fighting to impress Rion? Techniques, history, even how to hold the damn thing properly.”

“Yes, I remember -- and I didn’t say it was wrong. I just want you to be yourself, cub.”

“I am being myself! This is--  it's--” here Tav paused again, putting her hands up, “it’s just something I do, alright? When I am interested in someone, I get invested in what they love. Is that so wrong?”

“Alright, alright. I hear you. I do. But just so you know… the druidic magic I practice? It’s not the same as illusion magic. They’re not even in the same school.”

“Isn’t it all just magic from the Weave?”

“Technically, yes. But druidic magic taps into nature. It’s about working with the energy in living things, the land, the cycles. Illusions are more about tricking the senses, reshaping how people perceive reality. Same source, different approach. Just like how, even if we use the same quill, you and I will have different handwriting.”

“So... I don't suppose you can teach me how to cast Produce Flame?”

Jaheira offered her a knowing smile. “Not exactly my specialty, cub. But I can show you what I do know.”

✧˚ · .

The knock on his office door announced Lae’zel’s presence. “It’s time.”

Gale looked up from the parchment he’d buried himself in, an appreciative smile on his face when he saw that she’d brought him a mug of Amnian coffee. Lae’zel wordlessly handed it to him.

"Thank you," he said, cradling the warm mug in his hands. The rich aroma of the coffee filled the air. Gale took a sip, the flavour strong and caffeine awakening his senses.

Lae’zel stood by, her expression stoic, observing him with a knowing gaze. There was an unspoken understanding between them.

With the coffee mug in hand, Gale rose from his desk, the familiar weight of the spellbook tucked under his arm. He closed the office door and stepped into the corridor, Lae’zel fell into step beside him.

As they approached the classroom, the distant murmur of students grew louder. He exchanged a brief glance with Lae’zel – his Illusions class was again filled to capacity and she seemed to feel they should just kick out the students who weren't meant to be there. He shook his head at her and then headed inside. 

Gale entered the room, revealing rows and rows of expectant faces. The students looked up from their conversations, their attention shifting to the professor.

Gale swept his gaze across the room, and his attention was immediately drawn to Miss Tav, who occupied a seat in the front row today. She sat cross-legged in her chair, head tilted to the side, offering him a broad smile as their eyes met. He acknowledged her with a subtle nod.

A furrow creased Gale's brow. Typically, people didn't captivate his attention this way, at least not like this, anyway. If they did, it occurred through the slow, steady progress of their work.

With any other student, he might struggle to recall their name. However, Miss Tav was an exception; not only did he know her name, but he also observed intricate details about her clothing -- a loose olive cardigan draped over a white dress. While she dressed elegantly, there was nothing overtly attention-grabbing. Scrutinising her now -- which Gale attempted to do without actually looking in Miss Tav's direction -- Gale couldn't determine if she was older than his initial assumption. Her vibrant spirit and unblemished skin betrayed no signs of ageing, leaving him to wonder if she was a first year or a graduate student nearing the end of her studies. Alternatively, she could have joined the university as a mature student, a scenario not uncommon. Perhaps she had pursued work first or had delayed entering academia until later in life.

Regardless, he felt a pang of guilt for noticing Miss Tav at all -- she remained strictly off-limits, regardless of her age. 

Gods, he was only thirty-one, Mystra had been seven years older than he was now when they'd first met. What in the Nine Hells had he been thinking? And what had Mystra been thinking? It was a line of thought he preferred to avoid, so he shifted his focus back to his lecture notes and started the class.

"Today, we delve into the intricacies of the Produce Light and Flame cantrips -- an enchanting conjuration that manifests both light and fire at your fingertips. These spells intertwine the fundamentals of illusion and evocation magic to offer an uncommon synergy." 

Students started opening their notebooks to write his words down. He noticed Miss Tav’s gaze remained fixed on him, her expression a mix of focused attention and genuine interest.

“We will start with Produce Light today, chosen for its inherent simplicity. Manipulating the ambient luminance of our surroundings is the first step towards its sister spell, Produce Flame.”

"The key to mastering Produce Flame lies in understanding the delicate balance required to conjure both illumination and heat," Gale explained, weaving his hands through the air to emphasise his points. "The flame is real, tangible, yet its essence is shaped by the caster's will."

He continued to expound on the spell's mechanics until he reached the practical segment of the class.

“Now I want you to look at the person sitting next to you and practice Produce Flame with them. Don’t hesitate to ask for help.”

As the pairs began to practise the spell, to most of the students it came naturally. However, from the corner of his eye, Gale noticed that Miss Tav seemed to struggle.

He observed her discreetly for a moment.

From where he stood, he could see her hands trembling, a faint glow flickering at her fingertips like a flame trying to catch. It was unstable, barely holding.

He shouldn't approach her.

Definitely shouldn't.

She would likely figure it out in a matter of minutes, Gale told himself.

Besides, she hadn’t asked for help.

But the glow sputtered again, weaker this time. Her brow furrowed in frustration, and Gale felt that familiar pull in his chest.

She needed guidance.

He clenched his jaw. He shouldn't.

Then, Miss Tav looked up, her eyes locking onto his.

Damn it.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Gale stepped forward, clearing his throat gently.

"Excuse me, Miss Tav," he said, his voice low and careful. "It seems like you could use a bit of guidance with the spell. May I?" He fluttered his fingers.

"Yes, thank you. And it's just Tav," Miss Tav was saying, her eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and embarrassment. She held out her palm.

Their hands touched. He helped her conjure the flame with practiced ease, letting it bloom in her hand like a flower. He could feel her pulse, quick and uncertain. And the way her eyes met his -- grateful, vulnerable, curious -- made something stir in him.

The shared energy of flowing magic felt warm and soft. But with her palm resting in his, the magic flowing easily between them, he couldn't help but notice the subtle warmth not just from the flame, but from the connection they now shared.

What was he doing?

Gale had meant to guide her. Just guide her. A simple gesture, a bit of instruction, nothing more.

He tried to focus on the flame, on the Weave, on anything but the way her fingers curled slightly toward his.

"Like this," he said in a quiet tone, his hand still on hers.

"I... I see, thank you," she stammered. Her blush hadn't gone unnoticed.

Gale offered a smile, but it felt too gentle, too personal.

Was the Weave connecting them...?

Seeming to remember himself, he took a step back as if distance could undo the moment. Cleared his throat. Straightened his posture.

“You’re quite welcome,” he said, tone almost rehearsed. “Keep practicing, and you’ll master it in no time.”

As he moved away, returning to the front of the class, Gale couldn't shake the sense of the Weave lingering between them. Comfortable. Familiar.

Walking back to the podium, he looked at the clock hanging above the blackboard.

Thankfully, there were only about five minutes left of his lecture anyway. He could afford to wrap up the class a bit earlier than usual. 

"Alright, that concludes our lesson for today. Please make sure to review Chapter Five, and feel free to visit my office if you have any questions. Have a good day."

Avoiding eye contact, Gale swiftly gathered his belongings and left the room before anyone could approach him with inquiries or discussions. The corridor felt like a refuge, offering a temporary escape from the web of emotions that tangled within him.

He hurriedly made his way through the corridor.

Closing the door to his office, Gale took a deep breath, trying to dispel the unease that lingered. He needed time to sort through whatever… whatever that was. 

While instructing Tav on drawing from the Weave, his usually well-defined mental boundaries had inexplicably loosened, creating an unexpected connection between them.

He couldn’t let it happen again. He needed to establish and maintain a distance from the girl.

But first, Gale needed deliberate steps to regain his composure in the safety of his office. He approached the corner where he kept a small assortment of herbal teas. Selecting a calming blend, he began the process of preparing a steaming cup with his magic.

As he then settled into his chair, patiently waiting for the tea to steep, he resumed reviewing the parchment he had immersed himself in prior to the start of the lecture.

Once it cooled and he was sipping the tea thoughtfully, he still sensed the unsettling remnants of the unusual connection with Tav linger. Gale tried to pass it off as a fleeting anomaly, although his attempts to rationalise his feelings proved largely futile.

Chapter Text

Tav perched on the edge of her bed, attempting to resist the urge to twiddle her thumbs while keeping a watchful eye on the clock. Although it was her day off, she found herself awake unusually early, for reasons she couldn’t control despite her best efforts to do so.

She was a light sleeper to begin with -- there were nights when rest eluded her, plagued by either restless energy or unsettling dreams, making it nearly impossible to enjoy more than a few hours of uninterrupted slumber before jerking awake again was an impossibility.

However, it wasn't a disturbing dream that had disrupted her sleep this time.

Gale Dekarios had held her hand. He had held it with a loose, casual grip like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It had only been to instruct her how to channel the Weave, then his hand had slid away, but the sensation of his grip remained.

Uncertain if it was a product of her imagination, Tav couldn't shake the sensation that she was somehow being drawn into him, as if holding his hand meant more than just a physical connection…

Looking back now, she wondered if her feelings might have led her to exaggerate the significance of the moment. 

She gave up trying to go back to sleep around six in the morning, throwing the covers off with a huff of annoyance and getting up to go to the kitchen. Might as well whip up something for Shadowheart and herself, she figured. 

Opening the cupboard filled with pots and pans, she carefully selected the kitchenware required to make pies, making an effort to be quiet and not disturb her sleeping flatmate in the next room.

Within twenty minutes the kitchen counter was decked out with all manner of ingredients for the apple and plum pie that she had chosen to bake. The recipe was directly from Shadowheart’s mother, who used to whip it up for every celebration she had been invited to. The first time Tav had tasted it, it was so delightful she knew she simply had to have the recipe for herself.

It didn’t hurt that it happened to be one of her flatmate’s favourites, allowing her to sidestep lengthy and fussy conversations about what to prepare for dinner.

As if the tantalising aroma of the pie had summoned her dear friend, Shadowheart softly padded into the kitchen in her sleep garments. Her eyes, heavy with sleep, blinked slowly at Tav.

"Good morning," she growled out in a sleepy tone, a hint of morning grumpiness in her voice at having to be awake this early. 

Tav, holding a spatula covered in a bit of pie filling, chuckled at the sight. "Morning! I thought you might wake up to the smell of something delicious."

Shadowheart yawned and stretched, her gaze lingering on the pie that was still in the oven. "Is that... pie?" she asked, her sleepiness giving way to a spark of interest. The scent of the baking pie seemed to have a magical effect, as a small smile started pulling on the edges of Shadowheart's lips.

Tav nodded. "Apple and plum pie. Your mum's recipe. Couldn't resist giving it yet another go."

Shadowheart’s fingers snagged a lock of her hair between two fingers with a gentle tug. She lifted the curl into her line of sight. “How did you manage to get flour in your hair?”

“Baking isn’t as straightforward as herbology,” she huffed, twisting her head away as Shadowheart released the strand from her grasp. Tucking the stray curls behind a pointed ear, she prompted, “Do you know if you’re coming to the academy for Brightswords?”

She contemplated her answer. "I'm spending it at my parents'. You're invited, as always, of course."

"Ah, next time, then. I'm meeting Karlach and Wyll on campus grounds. I wonder what they've set up this year."

A wry smile appeared on Shadowheart's face. "I hope there won't be any food stalls stacked next to each other. I think some of the vendors are still cross with me for instigating the food fight last time."

"Karlach said you got gnomish pastries stuck in their cart roofs."

Shadowheart shrugged indifferently. "War always has casualties."

✧˚ · .

Gale ran a hand over the back of his neck, stretching out the kinks there. Trying to grade assignments was futile. It was absolutely impossible, when all he could think about was what had happened.

He shouldn’t have touched her. Or should’ve moved away faster. He should have let her practise on her own, really, but he couldn’t overcome his instinct to assist students, or get his stupid legs to carry him elsewhere in the classroom.

Instead he just felt drawn in, blindsided by her unexpected struggle and too foolish to be as responsible as he should.

Rubbing his eyes and almost falling onto the floor as he stood up, he grimaced at how sluggish his limbs were. Everything felt heavy and his arms and legs were too long and did things without his permission when he went too long without his medication. 

Going to the kettle, he cast a spell on it to boil and picked up his phial of medicine. He always put it by the kettle so it was the first thing he saw whenever he went to refill his coffee cup. 

Holding it up to his lips, he chugged the awful concoction down quickly without trying to think about the taste.

His hand went then to the scar shadowing his sternum, the skin puckered and pale as if scorched. Ten years since the accident. Ten years half-alive, most of it spent grinding down this grotesque tonic just to function. 

Memories of that night flashed in Gale's mind. Remembered the buzz in his skull. The sharp, dusty smell of sage and vervain. The quiet shimmer at the corners of his vision. She had promised wonder, immortality, even. There was so much. A blinding surge of light, searing agony. And then nothing. She was gone. 

He remembered his body screaming at him as the curse swirled in his chest and started consuming him from the inside.

In the early days, he could barely drag himself out of bed without the sludge. It took perhaps a year or two into his pitiable, isolated existence and a chance discovery by Tara to cobble together a recipe. Though it improved a lot over the years. Less pain, albeit more gagging.

The tonic never freed him, but it granted a brief reprieve, an illusion of normalcy before the pain returned, tearing at him like a caged beast.

He felt more human, nevertheless, even with the cursed pain still very much swirling beneath his skin.

Once the coffee was done brewing, Gale poured himself a new cup and strolled over to the balcony of his tower. It was Saturday, and the city below bustled with a sense of anticipation for the Brightswords festival in the afternoon. The soft morning sunlight cast a warm glow over Waterdeep. The streets were lined with intricately designed banners and pennants fluttering in the breeze. Merchants were busily preparing their stalls to display an array of goods. 

Gale was going to meet with his mother for the festivities.

He'd last taken Morena to a feast hall on Ahghairon’s Day, where they'd eaten fish fillets and drank overpriced wine. She had complained bitterly about how undercooked the fish was, having a strong preference for a well-prepared homemade dish. It was clear his love for cooking had a lot to do with his mother's influence.

He would be meeting her again in a couple hours to celebrate Brightswords together. He had caught wind of the City Watch tournament taking place on the academy grounds, and she was adamant that they should witness it together.  

The sky was grey and there was a faint drizzle that whipped at his face as he navigated the damp road. Nevertheless, the weather failed to dampen the festive spirit as people spilled into the streets, clutching drinks and snacks, engaging in animated conversations amid the crowd.

“Gale! Over here!” A familiar, feminine voice cut through the ambient chatter, and he instantly recognised it as his mother's.

With a smile, he manoeuvred through the lively gathering, making his way toward her. Morena was a warm presence with her chestnut brown hair, streaked with strands of silver, clipped back and the love and joy in her hazel eyes brightened as she watched Gale approach.

She gave him a kiss on each cheek. “Was your walk here all right, sweetheart?”

“Yes, it was fine, Mother,” Gale dismissed her concern with an eyeroll. “Come along, now. We don’t want to miss anything!”

As they began walking down the street, he took in more of their surroundings, observing the soldiers lining the streets, shopkeepers selling their goods, young maidens adding blossoms to their hair, and lots and lots of drinking. There were musicians playing somewhere off in the distance, but the crowd was so large that he was unable to locate where the music was coming from.

Morena tried to peer over the crowd, her hazel eyes scanning for the distinctive Elven Eats stand, where the elven-inspired pastries always marked their first stop. “This is going to take a while to find,” she remarked, then turned her attention to Gale, ”How are things at the academy?”

“Quiet, for the most part.” Gale sighed and they could both hear the distant clatter of a dropped drink somewhere to the left of them. “My group of students in the introduction course to Illusions is still practising cantrips.”

"I’m sure their spellwork will be most excellent," she replied, lines etching at the corners of her eyes as she smiled. "Any budding magicians among them?"

Gale smiled, enjoying his mother's interest. "Indeed. There's one young lad, Rolan I believe he’s called, who seems to have a natural talent for illusions, and for magic, in general. Quite inventive with his spellcasting. I'm looking forward to seeing how he develops."

Morena nudged Gale playfully. "I just hope none of the others accidentally set the classroom on fire. Remember that neighbor's rose bush incident when you--"

"I was eight years old!" Gale interjected in his defense.

She chuckled. "Fair enough. Now, what about you? Anything exciting happening in your department?"

"Some of my colleagues want to start a new research project about the Feywild. Personally, I'm not particularly interested in it. I find the magic of our plane captivating enough."

"And? Any of these colleagues catch your eye?" 

"Mother!" Gale warned, a hint of embarrassment colouring his cheeks.

Morena chuckled, undeterred by her son's protest. "Oh, don't give me that 'mother' look. I'm just curious. Sometimes I’m starting to think you intend to die alone."

Gale sighed, shaking his head. "Mother, I appreciate your concern, but my focus is nowhere near finding someone to settle down with. Romance is a distraction I can do without at the moment."

It should have ended the conversation -– Gale wanted it to end the conversation -– but something in Morena's expression shifted, comprehension written across her features, her mouth pulled into a tight line and her eyes growing wide. Gale knew what was coming, and dreaded it.

"Is this about Mystra?" she asked.

Gale didn't dignify the question with an answer, instead he quickened his pace as he spotted their destination and joined the queue at the Elven Eats stand. He still wanted pastries.

Morena had come to stand next to him as she arrived a bit later than her son did. She tugged on the sleeve of her soft cardigan.

"I just want you to be happy, sweetheart. To do normal things, like finding a partner."

"I’ve courted people," Gale defended himself, even though he knew it wasn’t the most accurate claim.

His last attempt was... three years ago, Gale realised. He’d had to wait over an hour for the other person to arrive, and conversation was pretty stilted as her grasp of Common was about as rusty as Gale's Elvish. He left soon after she had told him he had a pretty mouth. Later he'd figured out she had probably meant to tell him he had a nice smile.

It was entirely possible his mother had a point. Still, "You didn't have a partner until Elara either."

“That's only because I never exactly got a divorce before your father ran off. Being married isn't exactly a quality you look for in a partner,” Morena replied, her tone tinged with a mix of humour and a hint of resignation.

Elara only came into the picture about five years ago, which Gale thought was more than a little preposterous. It wasn't like Morena was the only one with issues. They lived in a city of a hundred and fifty thousand people, the vast majority of whom had their own issues, Gale included.

As if to say as much, Gale gave her a pointed look.

 “Alright, dear. It might have taken me around twenty-five years to rediscover love, but I had already met your father when I was much younger than you are now!"

"What's Elara doing today anyhow?" Gale attempted to shift their conversation away from the current topic.

Morena sensed that she shouldn't press her son any further. "She's occupied with reinforcing wards in the recently added section of the magical archives. She mentioned something about how there were incidents with children tampering with the library's defence magic during the last holiday, so they're taking extra measures to ensure everything is secure."

"We could share a meal together again sometime. It has been quite a while since we all gathered around the same table," he suggested.

"You know you're always welcome to drop by, Gale, regardless of the time," Morena placed a hand lightly atop his shoulder.

“What are you having?” the merchant chirped, looking at their faces expectantly, breaking the moment. They had reached the front of the line.

He ordered a few pieces of starlight scones while his mother opted for faerie dust puffs, then they stepped to the side to wait.

"Would you want to head to the tournament now?" Morena asked when they had their pastries.

Gale nodded and gave her a small smile as they headed to the academy grounds together. His mother even had a bounce in her step, excited to see this year’s swordplay. 

As they reached the grounds, the lively atmosphere of the Brightswords tournament greeted them. The telltale sound of clashing blades and cheers from the spectators filled the air, the colourful banners hanging from the academy’s walls fluttering in the breeze.

A smiling boy with sandy auburn hair and no more than seven was suddenly before them, swinging a wooden training sword in the air before he continued running. 

Students he recognised were engaged in friendly yet spirited duels, but the majority of the crowd was gathered in a circle around two particular combatants.

Morena's eyes lit up with anticipation. "Let's find a spot where we can watch without missing any of the action."

They settled in after they found a good vantage point on the eastern side of the yard. From there, he could make out the figures of two women engaged in combat -- a tiefling and another woman.

Wait.

It couldn't be...

It was ridiculous, how his heart leapt into his throat.

He couldn’t believe he was seeing this; seeing his elegantly dressed, beautiful student in padded leather armour, swinging a sword at her opponent’s head, vividly alive in her own skin.

The green hue of the armour she wore seemed oddly fitting.

He watched Tav duck just as the edge of the tiefling’s weapon was about to hit her left shoulder. He certainly hoped what she was wielding was only a blunt training axe.

The tiefling pivoted on the balls of her feet, faster than a woman her size should have been able to, and tried to catch Tav with a surprise upper cut with the pommel of her blade. She saw it coming just in time and spun out of the way with just inches to spare. The momentum unbalanced them both, and Tav took the chance to ready her sword for a strike.

“Watch your left, Karlach!” Gale heard a familiar voice shout, prompting him to scan the encircling crowd in search of the speaker. The man's face registered with him as Professor Ravengard, although their interactions had never extended beyond polite greetings. How did he know this Karlach?

Karlach smoothly sidestepped the oncoming attack from Tav, and Professor Ravengard's keen eyes followed the sparring match with a soft smile.

Gale wondered how much he would be imposing if he decided to approach them after the spar was over.

Tav dodged another of the tiefling’s -– Karlach’s -– overhand swings and swung her own blade at her opponent. Their blades crossed, pressing against each other with equal force and the two found themselves in a deadlock, their faces inches away from each other.

Karlach broke the tension with a smirk. "Let's call it a draw, soldier."

A moment later, they both eased back, lowering their weapons simultaneously. Tav chuckled as she grabbed the collar of her armour to wipe the sweat from her face, the shirt riding up in the process. 

Gale’s eyes were immediately drawn to the exposed bit of skin until she dropped the shirt again. 

Then, to make matters worse, it was at that moment that she noticed him and gave him a bright smile and nod, and he battled with himself for a fierce moment. He really shouldn’t. 

He should just nod back, then take his mother to witness the sparring sessions between veteran soldiers and candidates interested in enlisting.

Instead, he found himself rooted in place as he watched Professor Ravengard cross the yard in their direction, Karlach and Tav close behind him. 

Ravengard, striding towards Gale, came to a halt beside him. "It's good to see you out here, Mr. Dekarios!"

"It's excellent to see you, too. And Gale is just fine; we're colleagues."

"I insist you call me Wyll in return, then," he added, a warm smile accompanying his words. "And these are Karlach and Tav," he pointed to the two coming up behind him.

Wyll was about to say something more when Tav stepped forward, linking her arm through Wyll’s, then Karlach’s.

Gale’s brain came to a resounding halt.

The thought crossed his mind that there was perhaps a deeper connection between them...

Was she Wyll's? Or Karlach's? Or both? Tav didn’t wear a ring -– and neither did her companions, which would mean they were courting at worst. 

Gods help him, why was his mind dwelling on this?

“I’ve had the pleasure of Miss Tav in my Illusions class; she provided some of the most brilliant answers.”

"Really," Karlach said, side-eyeing her friend with a secret smirk on her face.

Morena, now mostly understanding the dynamics, glanced first to Tav, then to Gale, then back to Tav. She shook her head. “Gale’s a bit of an idiot when it comes to social conventions,” she said, “so he’s not going to introduce us. I’m his mother, Morena.”

Something in Tav’s demeanour shifted at that moment, her posture seeming to lighten, and she smiled and unlinked her arm from Wyll as she extended a hand. “It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Dekarios."

"Are you also here to watch the City Watch spars? We could head there together," Wyll offered with a pleasant air.

“A lovely offer, Wyll, but-" Gale began before his mother interjected.

“I suppose we can join you, can’t we, sweetheart?” Morena corrected, giving Gale a pointed look.

After queuing at a vendor to purchase roasted nuts for Karlach, the group made their way towards the grounds where the City Watch spars were in full swing. Gale looked out at the sea of people around them, watching the crowd cheer as a man had just volunteered to oppose the Watch’s captain. The crowd’s energy was infectious.

As they found a spot to observe (though "spot" was generous), only one thing was on the forefront of Gale’s mind; he ended up squeezed between his mother and Tav in the densely packed crowd.

Morena was speaking, her voice animated as she pointed out the man’s stance, the way he held his blade. Gale nodded absently, but her words blurred into background noise. His focus had narrowed to the warmth of Tav’s arm brushing against his.

He stole a glance at her, trying to be discreet. Her hair caught the sunlight in soft strands, and there was a slight furrow in her brow as she watched the match from a distance.

She simply looked lovely.

As if she could feel his eyes on her, she looked in his direction and held up the roasted nuts she had been holding for Karlach. “Like some?” she said, her voice coming from this close making his chest do weird flutters, traitorous and uninvited. 

Gale blinked, caught off guard. “Ah, no, thank you,” he murmured, shaking his head with what he hoped was casual grace, but inside he was spiraling.

He felt utterly ridiculous, was utterly ridiculous, he was a grown man by Ilmater’s ashes, and there he was getting wound up to the point of distraction in the presence of a girl.

The match continued, blades flashing in the late afternoon light. Tav leaned forward slightly, her attention fixed on the fighters, and Gale tried (emphasis on tried) to do the same. But every time her shoulder brushed his, every time her laughter joined the crowd’s, it pulled him back into that quiet chaos inside his chest.

Eventually, mercy arrived in the form of the challenger landing a clean strike on the captain. The crowd erupted in cheers as the man was declared victorious and escorted toward the guards, presumably for his formal inauguration. 

Gale exhaled, only then realizing how tightly he’d been holding himself. Tav turned to him with a smile, casual and unbothered, and he returned it with one of his own, smaller, more uncertain.

The sun had dipped lower, casting long golden shadows across the training yard. The energy began to fade, and the crowd slowly dispersed.

He followed the crowd out, hands in his pockets, wondering how a simple sparring match had left him feeling like he’d been through a battle of his own.

“My apologies, but my mother and I must get going,” he said, grabbing Morena’s arm –- a little roughly, he realised –- and pulling her in the direction of where they had come from.

“Okay,” Wyll called after them. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Dekarios! And I’ll see you on Monday, Gale.”

This was getting out of hand.

✧˚ · .

"Tav was cute," his mother remarked as they strolled alongside each other.

"Mother!" Gale interjected with a half-embarrassed, half-panicked expression, glancing around to ensure nobody overheard. "Could you, just this once, mind your own business?"

"But it's adorable," she teased, playfully nudging him.

Gale groaned, yearning for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. "Mother, please. Can we avoid turning this into some romantic saga?"

"I wasn't aware it was such a touchy subject." Morena shrugged. "She just seemed nice."

Gale blushed, thoroughly flustered. "And far, far too young for me."

"She wasn't that young," Morena said. "Twenty-three. Twenty-four, perhaps."

Gale scoffed. "She's a student in the Illusions class I mentioned earlier. Twenty-one, at best."

Not that age made much difference at this point; though he might feel less uneasy if Tav were in her mid-twenties -– less of a pervert, anyway. Nevertheless, it didn't matter because she was still a student and thus off-limits.

"Oh, really?" Morena asked, turning her body to make eye contact. "She didn't look like a student."

And she hadn't, not today, the way the green padded armour clung to her body, accentuating her figure, hair tousled from the impressive swordplay she engaged in with Karlach.

"Well, she is, and that makes her off-limits, so please refrain from saying whatever it is you're about to say to convince me otherwise."

"Alright, sweetheart," his mother conceded, raising her hands in surrender. "I just thought, given the way you were looking at her, that you might be interested. I haven't seen you interested in anyone in a very long time -– if ever. And she seemed to be looking at you as if she herself was interested. Are you sure Blackstaff has rules about those sorts of things? Perhaps she's in a research position."

Gale did not want to be having this conversation. He never wanted to be having this conversation. Yes, Tav was attractive -– far more than he wished her to be –- but that didn't mean anything. Many people were attractive, and Gale didn't engage romantically with any of them. Whether she was an undergraduate student or postgraduate made absolutely no difference.

"It doesn't matter what the academy’s rules are. She's a student, and I'm in a position of authority. I won't take advantage of that, ever. I'm serious, Mother, just leave it alone."

Morena remained silent for a long moment. "So it is about Mystra.”

Gale didn’t deign to answer her; instead, he quickened his pace to put as much distance between this conversation and himself as possible.

"By the Gods, Gale, that was over ten years ago."

"And I only informed you about that after everything had already happened, so I'm quite sure you're not qualified to comment on it."

He knew what it meant to meet someone –- the first person to offer Gale any form of positive attention in a long time –- and to idolise them. He understood the desire to follow in their footsteps, the yearning to connect with them in any conceivable way.

He thought he was so mature, standing before Professor Mystra at sixteen, thinking he had a complete understanding of the world. He believed they had fallen in love, defying the barriers of age. He believed they kept their relationship concealed solely to protect Mystra's job. 

Discovering otherwise had proven to be quite life altering.

Morena took a deep breath. “It's just... you're my son, and I can't help but worry. Your happiness means everything to me, that's all.”

Gale sighed, resigning himself to his mother's persistent questioning. "Okay, I appreciate that, but please, let us drop the subject now."

Just as he said that, they walked past the Elven Eats stand again, and Gale thought something sweet might alleviate the impending headache from today’s events. He craved more biscuits. "Are you going to want some scones?"

“Faerie dust puffs, same as before, please,” she said. She sounded grateful, though whether for his forgiveness or the pastries, Gale couldn't say.

✧˚ · .

Sunday morning Tav had woken up feeling like something had died in her mouth. In hindsight, she probably shouldn't have gone toe to toe with Karlach for drinks. It was entirely possible her boast of being able to drink anyone under the table was well earned.

Wyll had seemed more than a little unimpressed.

Still, Tav had been floating high on her chance run in with Dekarios and had wanted to celebrate. Afterwards, she'd waved off Wyll's concern and promised she'd make it back to her flat on her own.

Tav was still fighting brief waves of light-headedness on Monday as she was watering a batch of blueshine in her garden. Her body was not as adept at recovering from copious amounts of alcohol now, failing to readjust within a few hours as it did during her teens.

Behind a table strewn with her notes, the glass door creaked open, and she turned towards the noise.

It was Halsin. He made his way over to her with a determined stride. 

"Tav! Mind if we talk for a moment?" Halsin asked, motioning towards the nearby table.

Intrigued, she nodded yes and followed him to sit down. Once they were both seated, he turned to her with a grin.

"So, I know that you’re still figuring out what the next step in your research should be, that you’re looking at combining healing herbs specifically,” Halsin began, a hint of excitement in his tone. "And I have some new ideas I'd like to share with you."

Now that certainly grabbed her interest. "Oh? Do tell."

“Liferoot’s already central to your research, right? Vitality, rejuvenation,” Halsin said, his tone thoughtful. “But have you considered combining it with starbloom? Its distillation is known to enhance magical properties.”

Tav nodded, following his increasingly animated hand movements with her eyes.

“Their combination could be interesting,” he continued. “It could create something more potent. Not just healing wounds, but actually strengthening the body and spirit.”

She smiled, caught up in his energy. “So you’re thinking of a potion that heals and fortifies?”

“Exactly!” Halsin said, eyes bright. “I wouldn’t claim full immunity, of course, yet I think it’d be a strong addition to your research.”

Tav brushed a bit of soil from her fingers, her mind already spinning with logistics. “I’ll need to check in with Jaheira about our supplies. Might have to reshuffle the schedule again.” 

This could finally be her breakthrough!

She hesitated, then added with a sheepish smile, “Honestly, I’m better with raw herbs than I am with the alchemical side of things. If you’d be willing to dive into this with me, Halsin, it’d make things a lot smoother.”

Halsin gave her a warm nod. “I’d be glad to help. It’s good to "get our hands dirty" for something worthwhile.”

Tav raised an eyebrow, grinning. “If you keep dropping lines like that, our collaboration might not "survive the harvest."”

“Fair enough. I’ll do my best to keep symbolic expressions to a minimum.”

“Please do,” she said. “For the sake of the potion, and my sanity.”

Tav pulled at one of the journals on the table to jot down a note as Halsin glanced at her calendar. 

"Are you sitting in on magic classes? Is Wyll teaching something new?" Halsin questioned.

"I found the man who stole my students," she replied. "They ditched me for an intro to Illusions course, taught by one Gale Dekarios."

Halsin caught the gleam in her eye immediately. “Oh. I see. Have you invited him to dinner yet?"

"It's a little hard to do when the only time I see him is in class," Tav confessed. As she spoke, she doodled flowers in the corner of her journal. When she looked up, Halsin was frowning again.

"Not that I haven’t seen this before," he paused, "but what is it about this man? Is your plan to seduce him in front of a room full of students, which I am certain would prove more than a little challenging?”

Okay, maybe he had a point. Tav needed more than one plan of attack. Attending Gale's lectures was all well and good, and she intended to do exactly that -– however she wanted a chance to get to know him outside of a classroom.

"Do you think Wyll would throw a party and then invite me if I asked him?" she found herself asking. Wyll undoubtedly knew Gale better –- a fellow professor in the Magic department -– so he wouldn't think it at all odd if Wyll were to invite him to some sort of social gathering, particularly if Wyll also invited the rest of their department.

"Tav, you cannot use Wyll in your bid to woo this man. It's just not right," Halsin said. Again, he probably had a point. It was actually pretty remarkable he'd even known what she was talking about.

When Tav didn't say anything, he pressed on.

"You know, there will be a gala on Liar’s Night next month."

"What, the annual masquerade? How would I even recognise him?" she asked.

Halsin let out a sigh. "Hmm, there is that semi-centennial celebration a few weeks after that. I suppose you could get yourself an invite -– I’m fairly certain their entire department is expected to attend.” 

Tav perked up at that. “What celebration?” he asked.

“I don't know much about it, except for what Ms. Silverhand was telling me, but it will be a dinner of sorts. Or party. It’s the Magic and Conjuration department’s anniversary -– in exchange for a speech and some news coverage, the academy is inviting leaders in their field to Waterdeep for this dinner. Or party. I'm not even sure the official invitations have gone out yet."

Tav was sitting forward eagerly now, her notes forgotten. This could be good –- this could be really good. She'd have to find out who these hosted guests were, of course, read a bit of their work, attend under the pretense of being an enthusiast. Gale would be there; they could connect over their shared passion for magic, enjoy a few drinks, and then head back to Tav’s apartment...

It was perfect.

"When is this event?" she inquired.

Halsin sighed. "From what I’ve been told, it's scheduled about two or three weeks after Liar’s Night."

She frowned. There was no possible way Tav could wait that long. She'd be fortunate if she made it through another class or two before throwing herself at Gale -– at this rate, it might even happen right in front of his students. No, that plan wouldn't work at all.

She had a feeling she'd be needing a few magic lessons, and soon.

Chapter Text

As soon as Tav and Shadowheart made their way over to the Sea Ward in the afternoon, it became immediately clear to Tav that Karlach and Wyll couldn't have picked a better spot.

The conviction settled in as soon as they rounded the corner and saw the two centuries-old building staring back at them. The Sea Ward, with its numerous canals, old bridges, and trees providing refreshing shade, along with the soothing sound of trickling water nearby, oh … 

Tav found herself almost wishing she could plead to join them as their flatmate.

“Oh, it’s perfect,” Shadowheart muttered from next to her as they walked up the small set of stairs to knock on the door. Seems like their thoughts were on the same page.

For the past few days, Wyll had been persistently badgering Tav for news regarding her and Shadowheart's availability to help with the renovation. He even took the step of informing Jaheira that he needed her for an afternoon.

As they heard the click of the lock on the other side, the door swung open. 

"You guys made it!" Karlach's voice resonated through the air as she enveloped the two women in a crushing hug.

They returned the hug, movements somewhat restricted by her enthusiastic embrace. "Wouldn't miss it for the world," Shadowheart replied, her words slightly muffled by the tightness of Karlach's hold. They stepped back just as their lungs began to crave air once more.

Tav smiled and offered a nod of agreement. "Looks like you've been busy," she remarked, casting an appreciative glance around the doorway. The floor was covered in canvas and there were paint cans next to a stack of brushes in the corner.

Karlach beamed, gesturing for them to come inside. "Oh, you have no idea! Wait until you see what we've got planned for this place," she said, excitement bubbling in her voice as she led them further into the apartment.

The flat was much larger than Tav had anticipated based on Wyll's earlier description. From what she could see, they had plenty of room to live comfortably. Big windows lined one wall, providing a perfect view of the main street and the nearby canal. She could already envision friendly gatherings filling the living room.

Wyll was engrossed in a conversation with Astarion, the only one among them who didn't bother with old clothes for painting. 

Tav walked down the hall to join them. "You're not planning to help with the painting?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Astarion chuckled nonchalantly. "Oh, darling, I don't paint," he replied with a smirk, as if the idea were beneath him.

"What he means is he's never actually painted a room," Wyll clarified with an eyeroll.

With a gasp, Tav placed a hand on Astarion's bicep. “I promise I’ll be gentle for your first time. We can go slow. I’ll show you the proper technique and rhythm and how to work with it when it’s wet.”

"Oh, you shouldn't believe that I will be starting today. I'm only here to work on the furniture arrangement," he commented, shaking his head and casually examining his nails. “I will say, however, that it’s a good thing you chose white paint. This hideous yellow isn't doing the room any favours. Maybe some shade of cream could work too..." he trailed off, already wandering away to ponder other aspects of the project.

Wyll turned back to Tav. "Alright, the plan is to finish the painting today. Karlach and I have already completed one bedroom. I was thinking you could help me finish the living room, while Karlach and Shadowheart tackle the remaining bedroom and kitchen," he explained, outlining the division of tasks.

“Can do. And, amazing. The place looks amazing,” she said honestly. She remembered moving into the apartment she shared with Shadowheart; they hadn’t done any decorating at all, had simply unpacked their belongings and got on with things.

"I know! Just imagine how it'll look once we're finished," Wyll exclaimed, leaning down to pop the lid off a can before dumping the first portion of paint into a pan on the ground between them.

“We will have to use magic for the top half of the walls since the ceilings are taller than even Karlach's reach, and we don't have a ladder," he continued, "but I figured we could at least start the job on the bottom."

She chuckled. "Well, there's nothing quite like the satisfaction of transforming a space by painting it yourself. And don't worry, I won't take offence to your comment about my magic use, considering everything I know comes from you, Wyll." She coated her brush in paint and began the first broad stroke across the wall.

Tutting under his breath, he followed her lead with his own brush. “And you could've mastered magic much sooner if you had cared about it just the slightest bit until now." 

She turned to look at him, pausing with her arm extended. Her mouth dropped open in mock offence. “What?! How on earth was I supposed to know I would need to rely on magic to paint your damn living room in the future?” The corner of his lips twitched and he opened his mouth only for her to cut him off with barely-restrained laughter. “By the Gods, if you say something about a certain professor I will have your bollocks.”

"I'm just saying, Tav, if you had bothered to pay attention to my impromptu magic lessons, you wouldn't be facing these hurdles due to your magical illiteracy," Wyll quipped.

With a huff, she set the brush down, the edge of the handle resting against the pan of paint. “And most of that happened when we were both drunk! I hardly think barely being able to use our minds was the ideal way to learn!”

"All right, let's give rapid learning a try. Dodge this!" Wyll dropped his brush and lunged toward her, his right hand outstretched. In the back of her mind, she heard the clang and squish of his brush falling beside them. Before she could react, Wyll reached her, and Tav felt the distinct sensation of wet paint on her skin. As he stepped back, she knew he had spread white paint along her cheek.

"Wyll!" She rubbed the spot with her palm, smearing the dab of paint.

His hand clasped over his mouth, but a traitorous grin broke through. "I suppose you'll need to work on your defensive magic."

When his hand fell, she noticed he had rubbed part of the paint on himself with the motion. She leaned down, dipping her index finger into the paint and gave him a wicked smile just before dragging her finger from the apple of his cheek all the way to his nose. Catching her hand, he smirked and twisted her wrist until the pad of her finger pressed to her own nose.

“ That was an act of war,” he declared, a wicked grin on his own face. He picked up a smaller brush, dipped it into the paint, and trailed the bristles along her arm, spreading paint down her forearm.

She laughed brightly as she reached to wrestle the brush from his hands, pushing it towards him and splattering paint on the both of them in the process.

“You’re going to have to learn how to cast Prestidigitation now,” Wyll said with a chuckle, taking a small step back from Tav.

Tav wiped a streak of paint from the point of her ear. "Oh, I'll learn all right. And then you'll be the one dodging." 

"I was being serious. You’re eager to learn magic, so let me show you," Wyll said, his voice taking on a teacherly tone as he held out his hand. "This spell is quite handy, with cleaning being just one of its many uses."

Intrigued, Tav stepped closer, watching intently as Wyll demonstrated the precise movements and incantations required for the spell. With a graceful flick of his fingers and a whispered phrase, he conjured small, blue wisps of magic, manipulating them effortlessly as they danced around their bodies.

"Now you try," Wyll encouraged, and watched as Tav’s hands mimicked his earlier motions with gentle patience. With a mixture of concentration and agitation Tav finished casting, feeling the subtle surge of magic flow through her fingertips -- until it was suddenly gone.

"Where did it go?!" she asked in surprise.

 "Seems like you lost your focus. Don't worry about it; let's try again," Wyll reassured her.

Her next attempts were clumsy, the magic eluding her grasp. But she persisted, determined to master the spell. And then, with a sudden surge of confidence, she felt it -- the spark of magic responding to her will, the faint shimmer of power at her fingertips.

A delighted smile spread across Tav's face as she successfully cast Prestidigitation for the first time, the spell manifesting as blue coloured sparks dancing around them.

"Well done!" Wyll praised, his own smile mirroring hers. "With a bit more practice, you'll be able to paint the ceiling on your own." 

Tav laughed and playfully crossed her arms. "What, now you want to avoid doing renovation work?"

"Who, me? Never!" he replied with mock indignation, “But on a different note, if you're keen on practising spells in your own time, I believe I might have a few tomes tucked away in one of the boxes.”  

The belongings Wyll wanted to keep from the old apartment were now packed away in boxes resting in the kitchen corner. After a brief search, he found the specific box he was looking for -- containing his collection of notebooks from boarding school. Wyll was incapable of throwing away anything related to his academic career.

Tav was rather glad now that he hadn't, especially since Jaheira's scribbles on druidic magic only contained a few techniques for the Mold Earth cantrip, specifically for herbology purposes.

It took the better part of twenty minutes to find the notes he was looking for, Wyll flipping through his boyhood notes -- and by Silvanus, there were even notes in the margins of some of them that Wyll had probably completely forgotten having written, judging from his expression. Peering over his shoulder, Tav could chart the progression of his personality simply by doodle alone. By age fifteen, Wyll had had little doubt regarding any desire to follow in his father’s footsteps, but looking back now, it quickly became apparent that he had at least had some inkling much, much earlier.

He eventually found what they were looking for, a book and a half worth of notes on beginner spellcasting. Most of the notes focused on the school of Abjuration and defensive spells, things like Blade Ward and Resistance underlined with double lines, though neither would prove particularly helpful now. Apparently, Wyll’s early education focused almost entirely on protection spells.

Though not exactly what she needed, it was a starting point. The alternative was relying solely on Jaheira's Mold Earth spell, and Tav doubted that would impress Gale.

"I hope some of these can be of use to you," Wyll said, handing her the notes.

"How about," Tav began to propose, "I finish the rest of the living room while you take a little break, and we wrap up the day by you teaching me how to paint the ceiling. Together."

He considered her proposal for a moment. "That sounds like a plan," he replied with a grateful smile. "I could use a break.”

With that settled, Wyll retreated to a comfortable chair, finally allowing himself some rest while Tav set to work on finishing the remaining paintwork in the living room. She picked up one of the discarded brushes as she considered her options. Learning magic from Wyll could prove beneficial -- maybe even more than she initially thought. If they made it a regular thing, she might even encounter Gale more frequently during her visits to Wyll's office for practice sessions. This afternoon could be really good.

She had an entire day before she was due in Gale’s class.

✧˚ · .

Weekends always left Gale feeling more than a little out of sorts. Morena had been right about one thing; he lacked a social life. His social circle was more of a dot. Or a pinhead.

Though it had never bothered him before. He had both Tara and his mother to keep him company.

Most of the time he relished his free time; spent it reading or writing (the only thing that tended to clear his head these days) or dragging either Tara or his mother to festivals -– which, in Waterdeep, tended to be quite often.

Tara was also always up for a much needed walk together whenever the confines of his tower began to feel suffocating.

Two days ago, he’d taken her to see a secluded canal route he had recently discovered. She had bitterly complained about not being able to hunt any birds; the ducks and swans quickly fled at the sight of her.

However, their leisurely walk quickly turned chaotic when she spotted a group of pigeons near a market and darted off in pursuit, creating a stir among the vendors. After a frantic chase, Tara triumphantly emerged, proudly holding a feather in her mouth. Even a simple stroll with her could never get dull.

It was Thursday again, and Gale still felt disoriented by last weekend’s events. He had a class to teach in fifteen minutes, but he couldn't bring himself to move, the chair behind his desk strangely comfortable this morning. Gale blinked at the pile of cue-cards sitting before him. He'd written them out with painstaking precision on Sunday night, but today they seemed stilted and forced. All the points he wanted to make seemed obvious and redundant. He even toyed with the idea of cancelling the class.

It wouldn't be the first time. There were days when his mood was so bleak -- the ache in his chest seeming to envelop his mind in a fog so thick -- that he could do little else save slump in his chair and let time pass.

Today was one of those days.

There was a rap against his closed door, Gale's visitor revealing herself to be Lae’zel as the door swung open, Lae’zel coming inside, two mugs of coffee in her hands. She handed one to him.

She seemed to have a sixth sense about these things -- or perhaps Gale had been far too easy to read since they started working together. She had only been by his side since the beginning of the current semester, and it was uncanny how she seemed to see through him.

"I suppose we should just get on with it," Gale said, sipping his coffee as he gathered his cue cards, though he knew he'd likely disregard most of what he had written. But that was fine. Sometimes his most effective lectures were the ones that came straight from the heart.

Lae’zel nodded, a curt incline of her head, and then fell into step at his side. They headed outside and crossed over to Karsus Hall. It was a nice, sunny day outside -- Gale hadn't registered that this morning, had only felt the exhaustion of going two days without his dreadful medication, but he registered it now. He'd become used to such oddities in the weather. The bridge between seasons was never seamless, and although he would have preferred a straight march from summer to winter, he was willing to accept the peaks and dips in temperature, if only because the peaks made him that much more likely to lace up his boots and get outside.

He could tell from the noise, even before he entered the room, that his lecture hall would once again be filled to the brim. He shouldered past the door and then headed inside.

He tried not to notice her. He tried to keep his gaze off of her as he made his way to the podium, tried to let his eyes just slide right on by when he scanned the room. She made it practically impossible, of course, but he tried.

The thought that someone was playing a joke on him had crossed his mind before. If someone had put her up to it, a disgruntled former student or someone associated with Mystra orchestrating it, baiting him with a beautiful girl who always looked like she wanted nothing more than to listen to him speak.

As the weeks passed, the less likely he found that possibility, however. If it was really about ruining him, or making him look foolish, he would think it would have escalated already.

Tav sat in a row just behind the front of the class, wearing a smile as she locked eyes with him, her gaze unwavering until he finally had to avert his own.

And maybe he was an idiot -- no, scratch that, he was definitely an idiot -- but it just made him all the more curious about her. 

Regardless, he moved into position behind the podium and started the lecture. "Okay, everyone. Time to get started. I hope you're all ready to tackle this week’s topic and have already completed your reading on Colour Spray."

His voice carried through the hall as he explained the mechanics of the spell. "Colour Spray is a spell that harnesses the power of light and colour to dazzle and disorient opponents. When cast, the spell creates an array of vibrant colours that burst forth from the caster's hand. These colours swirl and dance in the air, creating a mesmerising spectacle that can be both beautiful and deadly.

“The effects of Colour Spray vary depending on the creatures caught within its area of effect. Weaker creatures may be completely incapacitated by the dazzling display, rendered blinded, stunned, or even unconscious for a short period of time. Stronger creatures, while not as severely affected, may still find themselves momentarily disoriented, their vision obscured by the swirling colours,” he finished.

Gale glanced up to find the class watching with rapt attention. Tav's lips were parted.

“Today we take for granted the fact that magic serves as a means of self-extension.  We practise magic -- and I hope you all do practise, even if it's only for yourself, as mastering your own magic is as crucial in comprehending the art as studying the spells -- it enables us to enhance our lives and our environment. This wasn't always the case.

“In the past, magic was primarily seen as a mere imitation of action or as objects crafted for instructional or entertainment purposes. However, everything shifted with the emergence of battle mages. That's why solely studying spells isn't sufficient, as it was the warriors who steered magic towards the trajectory we see today. Spells like Colour Spray ceased to be merely a spectacle for nobles and instead became potential weapons in the hands of those skilled in combat.” 

Gale paused. Aside from the introduction, none of this was what he'd written down. He was swept up in it now, his passion for the subject coming through in the candour of his tone.

"So what potential factors could Colour Spray be affected by?" he asked.

He was expecting to have to lead the class -- despite the answer being right there, written in black and white in the chapter's summary. He did not expect Tav to simply begin speaking; to quote directly from the textbook without ever once glancing at the page.

Gale's heart may have stuttered a little in his chest.

“The effectiveness of Colour Spray can be influenced by several causes, including the power of the caster, the strength of the creatures targeted, and even environmental conditions such as lighting,” Tav answered with a sheepish smile.

For a moment, all Gale could manage was to gaze in astonishment. The awareness of the entire class hung in the air, their anticipation palpable -- whether they were waiting to see if she had provided the correct answer or were simply intrigued by the interaction, he couldn't say. Clearing his throat, he swore Tav’s smile grew mischievous.

"The exact quote I was looking for, yes," Gale said, "and what should the caster also look out for?" He was hoping, but not really expecting her to be able to answer.

"To perform the spell effectively, the caster must make precise hand gestures and utter the incantation with focused intent. It requires both skill and concentration, as well as a good understanding of the magical energies at play."

It dawned on Gale then that Tav might be seeking an advisor -- perhaps that was why she had been so friendly. And soon enough, Gale would be in need of a graduate student, depending on how long Lae’zel remained. The idea was unsettling -- not because of the workload, but because it would mean working in constant close quarters with Tav. And try as he might he couldn't envision spending hours locked in his office with her without compromising his own code of ethics.

"Very well said, Miss Tav," Gale said, needing to break contact before he got too caught up in their conversation. He suspected the other students might complain if he spent the whole of the class ignoring them.

Adjusting a loose strand of hair behind his ear, Gale forced himself to turn to another student. "Mr. Rolan," he said, hoping he'd gotten the name right. He was one of the few students who had approached him during his office hours to ask after a particularly tricky spell. "Can you give us an example from the book that shows us how this spell can be utilised in combat?"

He allowed Mr. Rolan's response to wash over him, maintaining his focus on the student's face while subtly observing the poise of Tav's posture; the way she watched with open interest, seeming genuinely enthralled by the subject. Despite Mr. Rolan's answer lacking the confidence of Tav's, he managed to raise several valid points, all of which Gale pointed out, even as he dragged the conversation in a new direction, exploring how the spell draws upon nature as a thematic element and highlighting the connection between illusions and reality.

✧˚ · .

Tav had a tendency to get a little more worked up than she perhaps needed to. It was something that had been eating away at her ever since she was a child. She was aware of her own intelligence, that she picked up and understood things faster and more instinctively than most. She also knew that unless she knew a subject inside and out, like she did herbology -- she felt hopelessly inferior and incapable of providing an opinion.

It was perhaps why she had spent so much time preparing for this lecture -- reading and rereading the entire collection of notes Wyll had given her even when it turned out they were only covering defence spells. It was also why she'd stopped at the library on her way in this morning; although she had only managed to read a few papers on the spell before she was distracted by a search for Gale’s academic writings.

To her surprise, she discovered a few co-authored magical science papers from Candlekeep, and only one solo piece by Gale: an unexpected poetry collection called "Echoes of M"  tucked away in the depths of the Blackstaff library. Wait... Gale wrote poetry?

She didn't have enough time to read the entire piece, but the prevailing theme appeared to centre around loss. One particular poem haunted her; it depicted a woman succumbing to the depths of the sea, her ship adrift and battered by relentless waves after losing the guiding beacon of her lover's affection. The poem was beautiful, in Tav’s opinion, poignant and written with such open vulnerability that her breath had caught in her throat. It was hard to sit in class now, watching Gale lecture, interacting with him, and not think of that poem; not imagine the experiences that had inspired its creation, what Gale must have gone through and imagining the painstaking effort and emotional agony he must have endured while writing it.

As Gale's lecture was drawing to a close, Tav found herself realising she was reluctant for it to end -- she could have listened to him speak all day long. However, upon reflection, she recognised that she had dominated the better part of Gale's interaction with his students. She probably should have felt bad about that; she wasn't technically a student, so it probably wasn't her place, never mind that she was probably distracting from Gale's actual students' education. Though she couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps some of them were grateful for the diversion she provided by distracting his attention.

Despite her self-doubt, she had contributed a lot to the day's discussion. Each time Gale posed a new question, his gaze instinctively drifted towards her, accompanied by a quizzical raised eyebrow. She, of course, answered, even when she wasn't entirely certain, always giving her opinion even if she had to think about it first. Gale seemed more and more delighted as the lecture wore on. Tav mentally tallied today’s class as a victory.

It was an easy thing, to approach him at the end of class. Tav was even starting to think that maybe her group was right; maybe she should just cut to the chase and muster up the courage to ask him out.

Tav found herself not the sole individual seeking Gale's time, however; a younger man and two women she did not recognise -- clearly not her former students then -- beating her to the front of the room. The younger man turned towards her and offered Tav a shy, somewhat coy smile. It caught her off guard. It wasn't that she was unfamiliar with such advances from students (she had been hit on by a student before), but it still left Tav feeling incredibly awkward. She never knew what to do in these situations; uncertain of the best way to handle them without causing offence, or worse, damaging their self-esteem.

In the end, she decided her best course of action was to smile non-committedly and then promptly ignore him. The questions he directed towards Gale were about their week's assignment.

She stood aside as the two women asked Gale their questions next, and it was obvious that the second girl, not the one asking the questions, simply sought a moment to revel in Gale's presence. She waited patiently until they had left to step forward. His eyes flashed when he turned and found Tav standing there.

"You're very good at that," Tav said, elaborating on the confused expression that settled over his features. "The lecturing, I mean."

Gale stared for a moment longer before he seemingly remembered that he should probably answer her. "Thank you," he said. "Your contribution to the lecture was very insightful. It's nice to see someone in the crowd who shares my passion for magic."

Tav was fairly certain she had undoubtedly lit up like a beacon. She practically beamed. "I feel bad, though, dominating the discussion; I don't want to distract from anyone's education."

Gale laughed even as he shook his head. "It's more than okay. I for one appreciate a keen mind who is actually interested in learning."

Tav took that for what it was -- an open invitation to keep attending Gale's lectures. It was entirely possible that he honestly enjoyed having someone willing to contribute to the discussion in his class, but Tav secretly hoped it meant he wanted to keep seeing her -- although, if that were the case, she was not sure why Gale hadn't simply asked her out to dinner. Certainly Tav had made no effort to hide her own interest. Maybe Gale was just the type who preferred a slow, deliberate approach to romance.

Still, his interest made for an interesting opening, so with a confident stride, she stepped closer, casually resting her hip against the podium, and flashed Gale her most seductive smile.

"Are you planning on attending that Magic department anniversary?" she asked, already scheming her next move. She figured Gale would say yes, then she'd suggest they attend together, and then say that maybe they ought to grab coffee before that.

She wasn't expecting his expression to grow cloudy with confusion.

"What Magic department anniversary?" he asked, and Tav remembered then that Halsin wasn't certain whether the invitations had gone out. Obviously they hadn't.

"I'm not sure if it's official yet, but word is the Magic and Conjuration department is throwing an anniversary dinner," she said, trying to recall the details. "They’ve invited lead researchers from Baldur’s Gate, Neverwinter, Netheril..." She paused, trying to remember the rest. "It sounds like it's going to be a big deal."

Tav was not sure what she was expecting -- emotions ranging from indifference to excitement -- but nothing could have prepared her for the sight of Gale's face falling, replaced by what she could only describe as horror. He looked as though someone had just murdered his entire family, right before his very eyes. Tav found herself at a loss for words, all her carefully rehearsed lines forgotten in the moment of shock; feeling not entirely certain what had just happened.

"Are you all right?" she settled on asking, reaching out to touch Gale's forearm in sympathy. She would later reflect upon the sensation of the solid warmth of his touch.

Gale flinched at her touch, causing Tav to retract her hand as if she had inadvertently caused him pain. She watched, both mystified and more than a little concerned, as Gale quickly attempted to regain his composure. His shoulders squared, and his expression morphed into something more neutral, masking whatever turmoil had briefly surfaced.

"I'm fine," he said after clearing his throat. His gaze flicked towards the door where his assistant stood, looking utterly perplexed by the scene unfolding before her. Tav cleared her own throat.

"Was it something I said?" she asked, her concern evident.

"No, no, I'm sorry," he replied hastily. "I just have to go. I'll see you next week." With that, he turned to leave.

Tav watched, feeling both confused and dejected as Gale all but fled from the room -- even leaving behind his notes scattered across the podium. His assistant glanced between Tav and Gale’s retreating back before quietly trailing after him, disappearing down the hallway. 

Left alone in the room, she hesitated briefly before gathering up the things he had left behind. With careful hands, she neatly tucked the papers and notebooks into her satchel, though not before she had admired his penmanship.

Despite whatever had just happened, Tav still wanted to see him again next week. As she exited the room, thoughts of Gale continued to occupy her mind, the man growing increasingly fascinating the longer she knew him.

Chapter Text

The walk from Karsus Hall to his office passed in a blur, Gale finding himself standing inside his own space without really remembering how he'd gotten there. He found himself staring at his desk, feeling disoriented as if he had momentarily slipped through time. It was only then that he noticed his hands trembling, so he clenched them into fists and pressed them firmly against his sides.

Mystra had taught his Advanced Arcane Theory class, a subject often overlooked by students of Gale's age, as most of the student body lacked the necessary prerequisites at sixteen.

Gale had only been two weeks into the semester when Professor Mystra extended an invitation to her office -- not unlike the office Gale now called his own -- and told him that he had remarkable talent. It had been quite some time since anyone had deemed Gale remarkable; he was accustomed to being dismissed or seen as a nuisance striving for special attention. Until that moment, his encounters with adults typically consisted of being ignored, him having to push for his advanced placement, persisting until his efforts bore fruit.

In hindsight, Gale recognised grooming for what it was; Mystra slick in her manipulation, her tactics smooth and calculated. Within three months, she had managed to lure Gale into her bed, all the while allowing him to believe the entire affair was his idea.

The last time he'd seen Mystra was nearly ten years ago, his condition finally stabilised enough to confront her about the disastrously failed ritual. He was still grappling with the lingering pain in his chest and hung up on the woman who would, within the hour, shatter his heart into pieces. At that time, he hadn't fully grasped the entirety of her actions and their impact on him. It took years for him to piece together the fragments, gradually coming to recognise Mystra for who she really was.

And now, she was coming to Blackstaff, quite possibly unaware of Gale's presence as a teacher here -- though even if she did know, it was doubtful she would care. Gale released a steady exhale, unclenching his fists, and strode over to his desk.

His office was one of the bigger ones on the third floor, with a window behind his desk offering a view of a broad canal. Gale liked the space -- enjoyed the occasional sea breeze that drifted in, breaking the silence with its soothing white noise. Shrugging out of his coat, unnecessary now with the change in weather, he casually draped it over the back of his chair. The chair itself, a sturdy yet vintage wooden piece with burgundy cushioning, emitted an ominous creak as he settled into it. Despite its age, it provided excellent support for his knees. Just as he had gotten comfortable, Lae’zel appeared in the doorway.

She entered, carrying the day's mail gathered from Gale's mail slot downstairs, and placed it neatly on his desk before taking a seat in one of the two chairs that faced his desk. Two bookshelves leaned against the far wall, both brimming with books. Despite it only being his first semester as a professor here, the space was already cluttered with paperwork and various personal items.

"Is there anything I can do?" Lae’zel asked. She didn't say much, but when she did it was as though each word was carefully selected, designed to cut to the heart of the matter. Lae’zel seemed acutely aware of the power of language. It was one of the qualities Gale admired about her so much.

"Don’t worry about it. Just some bad news," he said, flipping through his mail. A pale blue envelope from the department drew his attention. Undoubtedly this was the invitation Tav was talking about.

Lae’zel, still observing him intently, nodded knowingly.

Considering his options, Gale hesitated. He hated to ask, knowing Lae’zel wasn't particularly fond of lecturing, but the alternative was cancelling his early afternoon class. Given his current state, he didn't feel capable of teaching right now.

“There might be one thing,” he began, pausing briefly. "Could you take over my Critical Enchantment Methods course this afternoon?" he asked.

Lae’zel nodded, showing no signs of being perturbed by the request. It was unclear whether she genuinely didn't mind teaching, her determination to keep the classes running smoothly overriding any personal preferences, or if she simply wanted to do Gale a favour. Uncertain of her motivation, Gale nodded his thanks nonetheless.

He was still toying with the envelope. He slid out the invitation and stared at it. Despite expecting it, it was still startling to see Mystra's name in bold blue lettering.

Gale lifted his gaze and noticed the attentive scrutiny in Lae’zel's eyes. He recognised that she was waiting for him to confide in her.

Lae’zel wouldn't be the first person Gale had told about Mystra outside of his family; he had confided in one or two mind healers and a select few friends over the years. In those early days, after Gale had pieced together his role in Mystra's life and her role in his, talking about it with someone not connected to the incident had genuinely helped. It had certainly put things into context.

Gale felt like he needed some of that context now.

The second mind healer he ever opened up to had suggested that his fixation -- though he was fairly certain she had wanted to use the word "obsession" -- with Mystra came from never fully processing his father leaving him. Gale supposed there was some truth to that notion. He had briefly mentioned his father to both mind healers he had seen over the years, but the topic always seemed to pale in comparison to Mystra, which, come to think of it, likely revealed a lot about him.

Gale's memories of his father were faint, scattered fragments that made it difficult to piece together a narrative. It was simply easier to focus on his life after -- he remembered the other parts of his life with sharp clarity -- rather than attempt to unravel his early years.

But Lae’zel didn't know about his parents, or any of it.

He picked up a quill to underline Mystra’s name on the list of names and silently pushed the invitation across the desk to her. She accepted it gingerly.

After she read the invitation, Lae’zel set it down on the desk in front of her. She laced her fingers together and gave Gale a searching look.

"Tell me how you know Mystra of Netheril," she prompted.

Gale reclined in his chair, exhaling a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

"She was my teacher. Our relationship turned sexual when I was sixteen," he said, sounding detached even to his own ears.

Lae’zel, likely anticipating avoidance at first, displayed a momentary flicker of surprise before composing herself.

"So you were in school," she remarked. Gale shook his head.

"I had already started my academic studies. While most begin around eighteen or nineteen, I had completed my schooling early. She introduced me to the advanced manipulation of magical energies."

"How long did this relationship last?" Lae’zel inquired, her tone tinged with… was that hesitation?

"Until I was around twenty or so." Gale had once held onto the hopeful notion that after his graduation, together they would carve out a life. “She enlisted my help in a consuming project, which then left me injured for over a year without any communication from her. When I finally confronted her about it, I discovered her in her office with another boy, likely one of her first-year students. She asked me if I really thought she'd wait for me."

She did not ask him how it made him feel, a gesture for which Gale felt immensely grateful, given he always found it uncomfortable in the past. Instead she looked him directly in the eye and said, "Your anger is justified."

Of course, he knew deep down that his anger had a solid basis, but hearing someone actually acknowledge it out loud had a distinct impact. It was like a weight he hadn't even realised was there suddenly lifted off his chest, making him feel lighter. He responded with a nod.

Gale silently hoped that Lae’zel wouldn't push him to escalate the matter to the Blackstaff, even though he understood it might be the right course of action -- but he couldn't conceive stepping forward and making the admission. The entire thing still filled him with shame.

After a moment, Lae’zel continued, "It's your choice whether you pursue legal recourse. Remember that what she did was wrong. You are not at fault here."

No, thought Gale, but that does not mean I am innocent either.

✧˚ · .

As Tav ventured deeper into the garden, she felt tendrils of her plants reach towards her; one brushed her cheek, as if expressing affection. Originally, Jaheira had predominantly clustered their plants and experiments in the western corner of the greenhouse, while their storage area occupied the eastern side. However, their attempt at organisation was short-lived as Tav began leaving pots of plants scattered everywhere, abandoning any semblance of order.

She wandered through the shelves of supplies, searching for the exact ingredient Halsin had requested just two minutes earlier. The list of ingredients he gave her for the day’s session was long and exhaustive; making her realise, again, how growing the plants was just a small part of the potion making process. Finally locating what he needed, she reached for the bottles on the shelf beside her and pulled down two of them.

As she did so, she leaned over a giant pot of Belladonna she had nurtured during her first year under Jaheira. The plant seemed to reach out for her forlornly, if a plant could be forlorn, before settling back into its pot.

Tav looked at the plant fondly for a second longer, then gathered the bottles Halsin required, cradling them carefully in her arms as she made her way towards him. The air was thick with the earthy scent of soil, always a comforting aroma. Across the room, Halsin was hunched over a magnifying glass, engrossed in his own work. 

She approached his workstation and set down the bottles beside him, their contents glimmering in the soft light filtering through the glass panes of the greenhouse. He glanced up, gratitude written on his features as he locked eyes with her.

"Thank you, Tav," he murmured appreciatively, before turning to scribble a note in one of the journals he had opened in front of him. Tav returned to her own spot at the table.

She sat above her own notebook about herbology on her left, a copy of Echoes of M borrowed from the academy library to her right, and an additional notebook opened beside it for jotting down her analysis of each poem. She got started on analysing the third poem of the day, time which she should have been dedicating to experimentation alongside Halsin.

They’d started on their research into the combination of liferoot and starbloom, but Halsin understood that Tav also had other matters on her mind. He was easily her favourite person to work with. He knew her well enough to forgive the occasional distraction. Besides, unlike many of their peers at the academy, Tav had spent most of the summer locked away in the greenhouse to experiment.

She drummed her fingers against the countertop, her elbow propped on the table, hand nestled between her ear and neck as she continued reading the piece called Alone by the sea . When she finished reading, she glanced up, eyes full of excitement as she looked over to him. "Oh, Halsin, you must hear this one!"

Seashore at twilight, her absence keen,
She's left my world, forever unseen.
She's left my world, forever unseen.

On the old bed, she left a flower's grace,
With tears I stroke the spot, a cold embrace,
With tears I stroke the spot, a cold embrace.

Still, the room holds her scent, a cherished dance,
Joyful dancing waves beneath, in a lively prance,
Joyful dancing waves beneath, in a lively prance.

Somewhere a beacon flares through the distance –
"Come to me, love," the sea sings in persistence,
"Come to me, love," the sea sings in persistence.

I listen to the fiercely singing sea
Upon the ageing bed, where dreams flow free,
Upon the ageing bed, where dreams flow free.

She loved me here and gave me all she had –
But never again sings the sea of a past that’s clad,
But never again sings the sea of a past that’s clad.

The painful contrast between love and distance. The atmosphere of twilight and the beauty of the sea. She couldn’t get enough of it.

She was vaguely aware of the frown pulling at Halsin’s mouth as he watched her, and offered him an apologetic smile. Perhaps he was starting to get a little annoyed…

He'd been keen to get started when she had turned up this morning, but instead of working, Tav had spent the bulk of her time analysing poems in a bid to understand Gale better. 

"Sorry about that," she said as she made it back over to where Halsin was working.

"So I assume you have not made your move yet?" he asked as he turned to her with a raised eyebrow.

Tav laughed. Halsin understood Gale was the first person to thoroughly attract her attention like this in a very long time -- perhaps ever. She needed the day she asked the question to be perfect. Though, if she were honest, had Gale given her his immediate attention that first day, he'd probably have ended up as just another fling. If there was one thing Tav appreciated, it was a challenge.

"I can't risk it all on a dumb question. He's stunning, and he gets really passionate when he lectures -- the way he gestures with those perfect hands of his and the enthusiasm in his voice when he goes 'yes, yes' when someone gets something right, like he’s in bed.." she trailed off.

Halsin interrupted, his face flushing. "Please, spare me the details. I regret asking." She stopped. It was an amusing sight, Halsin having turned bright red. Tav had forgotten how much he did not want to hear about her love life.

“Why don't you just ask Wyll when his office hours are?" He prompted. He'd turned back to his magnifying glass and was determinedly not looking in Tav’s direction.

Tav froze. "Office hours? Oh, Halsin, you are brilliant. I could kiss you."

The magnifying glass tumbled from his hand with such speed that Halsin nearly shattered it. Hastily, he leaned over the stool he was sitting on, reaching down to retrieve the fallen object before it could suffer any damage from the hard floor. His expression, stuck somewhere between embarrassment and a deep blush, grew conciliatory as he lifted his hands in a defensive gesture. "I believe you should reserve that for Dekarios," he said. Tav laughed.

"I will refrain from smooching you on one condition." Halsin arched an eyebrow. "Loan me your journal?" Despite Tav’s lack of attention until that moment, she still wanted to stay engaged with everything they were working on.

His face changed, bemused. "Ah, it seems I've finally managed to capture your attention this afternoon, if only for a brief moment," He reached for his satchel propped next to the table, took out a leather-bound notebook and began turning the pages with a practised hand. "Very well, consider it on loan for the day."

After he handed it to Tav, she began flipping through his journal. She couldn't help but notice a pattern scattered among Halsin’s notes; sketches of the same brown bear adorned the margins, sometimes accompanied by small descriptions remarking on the freshness of a lush patch of grass or the refreshing coolness of a nearby stream.

"Halsin," she began tentatively, "This brown bear you keep drawing on the margins…  it’s not one of your magical creatures, is it?” 

His gaze softened with a hint of nostalgia as he regarded her. "Ah, that," he murmured, a wistful smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "It’s a remnant of a past life, a time when my pursuits were not solely confined to the academy.”

Intrigued, Tav leaned in closer, eager to hear more of his story. "A past life?"

He paused, looking at Tav thoughtfully. "You see, I've lived for over three centuries, and in that time, I've explored many different paths. It was during those wanderings that I sought refuge with a group of druids a few years before I started working here; and during my time there I witnessed their unwavering dedication to the preservation and protection of the land. It made me realise that I want to share the study and care of the natural world with others. The bear represents the most profound connection with nature that I had experienced in the druid grove, a connection that lingers in my dreams to this day. In my sleep, I become that bear, and my senses come alive with the sights and sounds of the forest.” 

Motioning towards the greenhouse around them, he continued, "This place is where I found my true calling. It's where science and magic come together to study the wonders of the natural world."  A thoughtful smile dusted his lips. "But, you know, I actually considered pursuing healer training first, as a result."

Tav nodded, absorbing his words. She realised that Halsin's journey was more than just academic. "I bet you would have made an excellent healer. But this suits you just as well," she remarked, a question suddenly surfacing in her thoughts. "Hold on. Do you really turn into a bear when you sleep?" she inquired, her eyebrows raising.

Halsin's gaze met hers, and she could see the mirth in his eyes. "Only metaphorically," he explained, "It's a connection to the wildness that lingers within me. I don't physically transform into a bear.”

Tav's mind raced with questions, her fascination with her colleague's hidden depths growing with each passing moment. "What is it like?" she decided to ask.

Halsin considered her question for a moment, his gaze distant. "It's... freeing," he began slowly, his words coming haltingly as he struggled to find the right description. "To shed the confines of my human form and embrace the primal instincts of the bear... it's like rediscovering a part of myself that I had long forgotten.”

Tav listened intently. She chose to remain in a thoughtful silence, allowing his words to linger in the air. In moments when conversations turned deeper than she was used to, she often found herself running short on topics, not possessing an abundance of personal anecdotes to share.

"You know, you never told me how you ended up in academia either," Halsin remarked, his voice gentle yet probing.

Her expression flickered with a mix of emotions, memories of her past stirring within her. "It's... not exactly a glamorous tale," she admitted, her tone tinged with a hint of reluctance. "I don't even know where to begin if I'm honest.”

Halsin's brow furrowed inquisitively as he leaned in closer. “Start from the earliest point you can remember,” he suggested.

 “I suppose you could say it all started with a name,” she sighed, "Tav is not my actual name. It's not like I can go around using the first name I actually remember being called," she explained, a faint edge of bitterness creeping into her voice. “Both of my parents managed to get themselves killed before I was old enough for what they were actually calling me to stick… I was eventually found by a group of nomads,” — they called themselves nomads, but who were, upon reflection, probably bandits -- “before I could die of exposure. They... they named me Gustav.”

Tav didn’t know it was possible for Halsin’s eyebrows to shoot up to his hairline. Gradually, his features softened into an expression of sympathy as he listened.

"They didn't know about my gender until hours later when I had to be changed," Tav continued, her words coming out in a rush as though she couldn't bear to dwell on the memories for too long. "But by then, the name had already stuck.”

And so she grew up with a group of probably-bandits, that sometimes took and sometimes tricked, and she was raised to trick travellers into thinking she was one of them to prepare the way for an ambush, making distractions and diversions, giving out false names to confuse the rumours and doing whatever it takes to survive.

"I... I fell into a bad way growing up," Tav confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "The group I was with, they settled in Baldur's Gate after a few years of wandering, and I found myself adrift and desperate. Banditry, alcoholism, potions abuse... I... I'm not proud of it."

Halsin reached out, his hand resting gently on her shoulder in a gesture of comfort and support. "You've come a long way since then.”

She glanced up at him, a flicker of gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thank you, but it doesn’t end there. I... I tried to pickpocket someone. Someone I shouldn't have." Tav took a deep breath, steeling herself to continue. "It was Jaheira," she admitted, "I thought I could make a quick score, but... but she caught me."

Halsin listened in silence, his expression unreadable as he waited for her to finish.

"And instead of turning me in or punishing me, she... she took me under her wing," she said, her voice growing softer with each word. "She saw something in me that I didn't even see in myself. She saw potential. And... and she changed my life."

"That would explain why you're so particular about not being called 'Miss Tav'," Halsin quipped in an attempt to lighten the mood, his tone gentle and teasing. "I can only imagine the headache it must be dealing with paperwork without a surname."

"You have no idea," she replied with a soft laugh, grateful for the moment of levity. She moved back towards the garden, eyeing a row of herbs with her usual confidence back in place after that brief vulnerability, and added, "If you ever want to go down to the Dragon for a pint, just let me know. Wyll and the others are regulars there too."

Halsin blinked in surprise, then nodded.”That sounds great."

"The Gods know," she said, "we could all stand to get out of the academy and away from the students now and again. For sanity's sake."

✧˚ · .

"Gale! Come in, come in! And where’s Tara – oh, there she is! Come on in before you all catch a chill!” Morena's welcome greeted them as they arrived at his mother’s house for dinner on Friday evening.

After his talk with Lae’zel left him feeling particularly wrung out, Gale craved nothing more than to collapse into bed and sleep for days. He suspected that would likely be unwise (he still had lectures on his plate), so instead, seeking comfort, he arranged to have dinner with his family at his childhood home. It wasn't often they managed to set up such gatherings, given his typically busy schedule.

Gale noted the lack of any noticeable chill in the air; he had no idea what she was talking about. Tara darted inside ahead of him, making a beeline for a small bowl of fresh fish waiting for her in the kitchen. Gale followed, navigating the crowded hallway cluttered with an excess of decorations, feeling a bit awkward. Morena planted kisses on each of his cheeks before leading them through to the kitchen.

Elara closed the book she was reading as she heard him approach and stood up to greet him. "So nice to see you, Gale! Journey all right?" she asked warmly as he pulled her into a brief hug.

"Yes, it was fine. The autumn chill hasn't quite set in yet," he replied, reaching out for one of the lemon biscuits she always baked so perfectly.

Returning his smile, Elara noticed him already enjoying one of her treats. "Why don’t you go get seated? The peppers should be ready any minute, so dinner is pretty much ready now."

Gale opened the bag he had brought along. "Here, I bought garlic bread," he said, retrieving the item wrapped in cloth. "It’s still warm and freshly sliced."

Without needing any prompting, Gale took the garlic bread to the table as Elara busied herself with a teapot. Sinking into a thatched chair, he observed Morena picking up a plate and a pair of tongs. "Fantastic! We're having stuffed peppers and coleslaw, so the garlic bread will complement it perfectly, sweetheart," his mother exclaimed.

Elara turned back to the table. “Anyone want something to drink?”

Gale silently extended his cup towards her, indicating he'd like some soothing tea. As she poured drinks, Morena retrieved a set of ceramic plates from the top shelf in the cupboard, ready to start plating the coleslaw. Meanwhile, Elara turned to take the peppers out of the oven. 

Once every plate looked just about ready, they took their seats on one side of the table, facing Gale who sat on the opposite side. Tara settled herself on a cushioned stool at the head of the table, with Gale on one side and Morena on the other. With everything set, they finally dug into their meals.

Elara had a few bites of her coleslaw before she cleared her throat and gestured at him with her fork. “How's everything at the academy?”

He almost choked on a forkful of pepper. It went down roughly before he could manage an answer. “It’s... going fine. I'm just glad to be back at work.”

Elara hummed and took a sip of her tea. “According to Morena, your invitation to come have dinner with us tonight was a bit sudden. Not that I'm complaining, it's lovely having you here, Gale. But has anything happened for there to be a reason for the impromptu visit?”

He wasn’t very prepared for them to ask him this kind of question, so he took a moment to swallow his bite of stuffed pepper before responding in a relaxed tone. “I took Mother's comments on Brightswords seriously. I'll make an effort to visit more often.” 

Morena watched him carefully as he spoke, her maternal instincts probably picking up on the underlying unease in his voice he didn’t mean to let slip. Despite his attempt at brushing off the question, she sensed that something else was troubling him.

Setting down her fork, she reached out to gently place her hand on his. "Gale, sweetheart," she began softly, "I know you well enough to see when something's on your mind. You can't fool your old mother. What's really bothering you?"

“Um –” he started going red in the face and he dropped his gaze. Tara jumped off of her stool to curl around his ankles as he took a deep breath in and out through his nose.

Elara nods encouragingly. “Yes, darling?” 

"It's Mystra," he admitted quietly. "She's coming to Waterdeep."

Hazel eyes widened, and every drop of coloured drained from her face in the space of a breath.

“Her? Here in Waterdeep?" Morena exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief and knocking over the fork as she did, “That certainly explains the mood you’re in.” 

“My gods, tell me when to give up the Weave and pick up a crossbow,” Tara commented from beneath the table.

Elara glanced between them, confusion evident in her expression.

Morena reached out, placing her other hand on Elara’s elbow and leaned in to quietly explain, “Mystra was Gale’s teacher, the one I mentioned...”

Understanding dawned on Elara, her eyes widening before she schooled her features into a more neutral expression.

Gale swallowed, his face solemn. "She's been invited to the Magic department’s anniversary. It's... unexpected."

Elara's brow furrowed in concern as she exchanged a glance with Morena. "Do you have to attend the anniversary event?" she asked gently.

He mulled the question over. "As a professor, it's expected," he admitted reluctantly. "But with Mystra's presence... I'm not sure."

"Perhaps there's a way to avoid being there," Morena suggested, her mind already set on finding a solution. "Is there someone you could delegate your responsibilities to for the day?"

Gale nodded. "I could speak to some of my colleagues," he mused, thinking of Wyll Ravengard for a second. "Maybe they could cover for me."

He couldn’t really say he’d formed close bonds in the department yet. Most of his interactions with many of his colleagues were limited to "good mornings" and "take cares" as they passed each other in the hallway. However, there was one exception -- Wyll Ravengard.

Since Brightswords, Wyll had made an effort to engage in small talk with Gale whenever they crossed paths, whether it was venting about students struggling with simple spells or complimenting Gale's choice of purple sweaters. He was a friendly and affable man, someone Gale was beginning to consider a friend, even.

"It's worth a try," Elara chimed in, her voice filled with encouragement. "There's bound to be a solution without having to see her at all."

Tara leaped into Gale's lap, curled up and began purring softly. “There's always the crossbow as a last resort,” she remarked with a note of finality. They chuckled softly at that.

Gale released the tension from his muscles, breathing a sigh of relief and squeezed his mother’s hand once before letting go to pick up his fork then pet Tara. Was it odd that he felt like telling them was almost too easy? He had anticipated not being able to get any of it out at all , especially considering how heavily the news had weighed on him throughout the day and leading up to dinner. It was a bit unexpected, but he certainly wasn't complaining. Everyone seemed to be breathing easier now, and that made the conversation start to flow into what turned out to be a very pleasant dinner. 

After he’d finished eating, he leaned back in his chair. With a loud and very happy sigh, he placed a hand on his satisfied stomach. “Well, after that feast, I think I'm set for the next week.”

“I'm not surprised,” Morena remarked, resting her cheek on her fist with a playful twinkle in her eye. She gave Gale the same amused look she used to give him when he inadvertently levitated her vases instead of his toys. “You ate two full plates.”

Elara simply shrugged, offering Gale's shoulder a reassuring squeeze as she collected his plate and headed back to the sink. “Hey, he needs to keep up his strength after everything he eats.” 

That was just one of the many reasons why he loved Elara so much.

Once he felt like he could move without upsetting his stomach, he got up to go help clean. Thankfully, there weren't too many pots and pans to clean, and Elara had finished rinsing their plates already. While she took up the drying cloth, Gale got elbow deep in the sink to finish everything else. Half of the pots required a good soak before they could be scrubbed clean, so he moved onto the ones that could be cleaned right away.

As Gale finished washing the last pan he could manage at the moment, he glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Hmm, I should probably be heading back,” he remarked, a note of reluctance in his voice. “I still have a stack of assignments waiting to be graded.” He retrieved his coat which had been slung around the back of the chair.

“Come, sweetheart,” Morena pulled him into a hug outside of the kitchen with a smile. “I filled a metal tin with some leftover stuffed pepper to take home.”

Of course she did. Gale embraced her tightly, hard enough to lift her off the ground slightly. He couldn't fathom what life would be like without her. After planting a big kiss on her cheek, he gently set her down and made his way to the table to retrieve his bag, containing the metal tin of leftovers.

He next gave Elara a hug before they followed him to the door to say their goodbyes.

Even as he walked down the road after Tara -- who’d run off to find dessert -- Gale couldn't shake the warm feeling spreading through his chest, a sensation he always experienced after spending time with his family. They were some of his favourite people in the world, and he wouldn't trade them for anything. Few others could evoke such a profound sense of contentment within him. In fact, the list of people who could was more or less comprised entirely of family.

He wandered around for a bit after that, mostly because was not entirely sure what to do with himself. He could always head back home, but he wasn't in the mood to grade yet, and if he stayed in the neighbourhood long enough, he could probably catch Tara returning from her little hunting trip and they could walk back together. Gale supposed a walk around the Castle Ward would do him some good until then.

As he rounded a corner, absentmindedly kicking a pebble, he happened to glance up and catch sight of a familiar figure. For a moment he was too stunned to do anything but stare, Tav being the last person he'd expected to see. She was coming out of a stationer, two books clutched in her hand -- and Gale knew the shop, went there often, because they always had the best selection of rare texts. Tav was headed in the opposite direction he was, and before Gale quite knew what he was doing he was following.

She was obviously heading somewhere with a purpose -- and Gods, she navigated the streets of Waterdeep like she did the halls of the academy, as if every inch of space belonged solely to her, as if the entire city existed for her alone. He hadn’t seen such assuredness in a student, a trait rarely seen in someone so young.

By all rights, Tav should still be figuring herself out, exploring what she liked or didn't like. Gale, like most, certainly still grappled with self-discovery. Tav, however, seemed to have it all figured out, as if she were the master of her own domain.

Gale couldn't help but be a little bit impressed.

At the same time it was oddly alarming. The only other person he had encountered with such undeniable charisma was Mystra, and the comparison troubled him. Tav was nothing like her, yet she wore her skin with the same confidence which left him unsettled.

At a crossing, Tav paused. Gale, overwhelmed by a sudden surge of panic, found himself ducking behind a nearby vendor -- a foolish move, given that the posts supporting the canvas roof did little to conceal his whereabouts. A litany of what the hell am I doing? ran through his head even as his heart stuttered -- the cursed weight on his chest growing heavier.

Was he really stalking one of his students? What in the Hells was wrong with him?

Clearly he should have brought Tav up with Lae’zel. She would’ve knocked some sense into him.

It wasn't the least bit surprising to glance up and find Tav staring at him, her eyes wide and a soft smile gracing her face. Gale cursed under his breath, torn between acknowledging her and simply bolting away -- he really, really wanted to run.

However, he remained frozen in place, watching as she closed the distance between them.

"Are you following me?" Tav asked when she got to the side of vendor. She sounded more than a little delighted. Gale wasn't entirely certain what to make of that.

"Um..." There were a dozen ways he could answer that, but he suspected that any attempt to fabricate a response would likely be futile. Instead, he opted for a shrug, unable to formulate a suitable answer.

Tav beamed at him.

It was a really good look on the kid.

"In that case, you can at least buy me a pastry," she said.

And this was not good.

This was really not good, because not only did he want to buy her a pastry, but he rather wanted to invite Tav home with him.

There was something about seeing her alone on the street, outside of a school setting, that made Gale realise just how tempting that sounded.

"I can't," he said, although it took a great deal of effort to do so. "I'm waiting on my companion, and then we have plans."

The urge to run was back again, though mostly because Tav's expression had turned crestfallen and Gale wanted to do everything in his power to change it.

He was really not used to reacting to a student this way. It just didn't happen.

"Well, some other time then," she said, still sounding disappointed. She glanced over her shoulder. "You know, this is the second time I've seen you in this end of town. You must live nearby."

"A couple of blocks," Gale said without really thinking about it. No matter how much his conscience shouted at him, there was an inherent ease in conversing with her. He found himself unwilling to let the conversation end.

At least he managed to stop himself from asking if Tav lived in the neighbourhood as well -- it stood to reason, given their chance encounters -- but it was but it really wasn't his place to pry where his students lived. Tav, who appeared ready to pose another question or steer their surprisingly non-awkward conversation in a new direction, suddenly halted. It took Gale a moment to realise it was because someone from behind had called his name.

He glanced over his shoulder, spotting Tara who looked equal parts exasperated and delighted. She'd reached Gale's side before she registered he was talking to Tav.

"Oh, who might this lovely lady be?" Tara asked in a curious tone.

Not for the first time in Gale's life, he rather wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. Instead he cut off anything Tav might have said -- or worse, anything Tara might have said.

“Well, we should get going then. I'll see you on Thursday, Miss Tav," Gale said, ignoring her startled confusion. He also paid no heed to Tara's indignant grumbling as he picked her up and started carrying her in the opposite direction from where Tav had been walking.

Gale very purposely didn't look back, even after Tav called out, "Thursday, then," as if they had just arranged a date.

Chapter Text

"He was following me. There must be some significance to that."

Tav sat in the teacher’s lounge, the week’s assignments sprawled out on the wooden coffee table in front of her, and a mug filled with Amnian coffee balanced precariously on the armrest of the sofa. She would have preferred Elven brew, but Amnian was what Jaheira had preferred, and Tav was nothing if not accommodating.

"Perhaps he suspected you of pocketing something off him -- Hells, wouldn’t be the first time. But somehow I doubt that. So, it must mean you've finally stumbled upon your soulmate. Congratulations, cub," Jaheira retorted, raising her mug in a mock toast without diverting her gaze from the paper she was grading. Tav shot her a glare in response.

"This man is possibly the most perfect yet infuriating person I've ever met. I'm convinced he's interested, but something's holding him back," Tav lamented, letting her head fall back onto the couch, bouncing slightly in the process, causing her coffee mug to wobble precariously. She reached out to steady it, swirling the liquid in the cup before bringing it to her lips.

They had opted to grade in the lounge once more, even though it lacked the well-lit ambiance of the greenhouse with its constant influx of natural light filtered through glass panes. Despite the love they both held for the garden, Jaheira detested grading there -- she grumbled too much about Tav's habit of interrupting the grading to tend to the plants, returning with hands covered in dirt, seemingly unconcerned about smudging the students' papers.

"Have you considered the possibility that he might be married?" Jaheira queried, still not bothering to glance up from her task.

Tav sat up abruptly, her coffee mug suspended midway to her mouth. She furrowed her brow. "Shadowheart had the same thought -- and no, that doesn't make sense. I've met his mother, and she seemed genuinely keen on the idea of me as a potential love interest for her son. Why would she do that if Gale was already married?"

Jaheira conceded the point with a nod. "Perhaps he's simply emotionally wounded and not ready to start courting anyone new yet."

That was a distinct possibility. Certainly the poems Tav had read (four times over already) hinted at such turmoil. They were brimming with agony, with heartbreak so palpable that it was hard to imagine that anyone could scarcely endure the emotions. She couldn't deny that she might have found herself falling a little bit in love upon reading them.

If that were truly the case, Tav could exercise patience. Well, she could certainly try. If Gale needed time, she was willing to give it to him. Yet, it would be far simpler if Gale just communicated his needs openly and let her know that was indeed the case. This constant guessing game was driving her to the brink of madness.

Jaheira finally glanced up at Tav, about to resume her previous train of thought when a chuckle escaped her lips. 

"What's so amusing?"

"Maybe he thinks you're one of his students," Jaheira disclosed, gesturing towards Tav's casual attire, as if it made the point for her.

Tav let out a snort and shook her head. "That's absurd," she dismissed, brushing off the suggestion as ridiculous. However, Jaheira wasn't finished yet.

"Or maybe," she was on a roll now, fully caught up in the absurdity of Tav's predicament, "he's under some curse he's too ashamed of to pursue anything."

Tav made a face, even as she drained the last of her drink. "What difference would that make? They make potions for a reason."

Jaheira didn't appear to have anything to say to that, so Tav pushed herself out of the lounge sofa -- an overstuffed monstrosity of a thing that she tended to get lost in more often than not.

She freed herself with some degree of difficulty, and then crossed to the kitchenette that lined the east corner of the lounge. There was more coffee left in the kettle sitting on the counter. She lifted it up and turned back to Jaheira, raising an eyebrow.

"Go ahead," she gave Tav her permission.

Tav wasn't overly fond of caffeine; at least, not anymore. She'd had the tendency to overindulge during her younger years, but then again, who didn't? In recent years, she'd traded the coffee for black tea, and eventually settled on green tea.

As they worked through the remaining assignments, they shared the last of the coffee. Tav occasionally paused to read Gale's poetry aloud, while Jaheira grew increasingly moved by the melancholic words -- Oh, Tav, you need to marry that boy, she’d insisted.

“You know, with all the different spells out there, I can't believe there isn't a spell to conjure coffee," Tav grumbled. No matter how distant she felt from magic, there was one thing she found utterly baffling about the various schools of magic: conjuration. Was summoning food and drink out of thin air really too much to ask? Why hadn't someone devised a coffee-making spell yet?

Tav held up the lid of the kettle, frowning as she did so, then carried the kettle over to the sink in the corner. Turning back, she eyed the couch uncertainly before deciding to sit cross-legged on the floor.

"Out of curiosity," Jaheira interjected, "have you directly gauged Gale’s interest, cub? I mean, straightforwardly; none of your round-about ways of doing it."

Tav pondered for a moment. She had certainly dropped hints and provided opportunities for Gale to make a move, but she supposed she hadn't officially put it to a question.

"Because, you know," Jaheira pressed on, "you are from Baldur’s Gate, and perhaps your subtlety isn't getting through. He might not realise you're interested.”

Tav supposed it was possible, although she couldn't really see how she could be any clearer on the subject -- aside from throwing herself at Gale that was, which she was getting desperate enough to do at this point. Still, Jaheira had a point; one that was certainly worth exploring.

"How much do you love me, Jaheira?" Tav asked, mastering her most humble expression.

"Barely, cub, so save the pleading eyes look. What do you want?"

She quickly realised Jaheira could be unshakable at times. She should have known better than to play games with her -- so she opted for blunt honesty.

"You've got me pencilled in to oversee Araj Oblodra’s alchemy seminar tomorrow, right when Gale's holding his office hours. If someone were to step in for me, I could sort things out with him."

Jaheira's disbelief was evident. Tav attempted a smile, though it came across more apologetic than intended. She knew Jaheira detested her attempts at sneakiness.

"Oh, Tav, you are utterly impossible," Jaheira declared after a moment, finishing her coffee with a final clink as she set the cup down. "I will take the first half for you. Enough time for you to go and see Gale, make your move, and then you better hustle back to the Natural Sciences department for the second half of your supervision. Do we understand each other?"

Tav couldn't suppress the wide grin that stretched across her face. Jaheira's selflessness tore down her barriers, prompting her to scramble over to the couch and envelop her mentor in a hug. If Tav could have chosen anyone as a mother (and she had longed for one throughout her childhood), it would undoubtedly be Jaheira.

Returning the hug with a reluctant pat on her back, Jaheira remarked, "We should tidy up and stow these assignments away before you inadvertently smear them with dirt." She relinquished her grip on Tav.

In the midst of pulling away, Tav made a face. "But I haven’t even-" she began, but Jaheira silenced her with a stern glance. Because really, since they had started marking in the lounge, it was only that one time, and Tav had been nursing a brutal hangover, which caused the tea spillage.

Shaking her head, Jaheira rose from the couch and grabbed her satchel from beside it, motioning for Tav to gather her own seminar papers. Tav neatly packed the assignments -- still pristine despite her mentor's apprehension -- into her bag as she headed for the door.

"See you around. And, really, thank you," she called out from the doorway, pulling it shut behind her. Jaheira casually waved her hand, as if the act of kindness was no big deal, before bidding her own farewell. 

✧˚ · .

"Mrs. Dekarios always buys the most flavourful fish in town," Tara said as she finished the bowl that Gale had placed before her. It contained the sardines his mother had discreetly packed alongside the stuffed peppers. The tressym was the sole fan of sardines in their household anyway, as Gale himself favoured Cod or Sole for dinner.

"That's only because she knows many of the market vendors personally," he commented, attempting a smile, although Gale's mood was much too strained for levity.

He was feeling... confused was probably the best word. The past days felt exceedingly long. Hells, he could barely focus in his class this morning even, learning about Mystra's impending arrival seemed a lifetime ago. He was already skirting the edge of a headache.

The problem was he had no idea what to address first. He supposed he had dealt with most of his emotions about Mystra in the company of Elara and his mother, and Gale felt like he had wasted too much time talking about her anyway, and Tav... Where did he even start with Tav?

Tara, who knew him too well, nudged his arm sitting on the top of the table with her head. He glanced at her, only then realising that she'd already finished the bowl and now perched on the table. He reached out to give a comforting scratch behind her ears.

"What's going on with you, Mr. Dekarios?" she asked. Gale shook his head.

"I suppose I'm still worked up about her impending visit," he admitted, and of course he still was, but that was only a part of these past weeks' iceberg. 

Tara frowned, as much as tressyms could frown, and nudged his hand once more before leaping to the floor, signalling for him to follow. She led him away from the kitchen table and into the sitting room, where she curled into his side as soon as they were seated on the couch, tucking her tail beneath her.

"I have the sense that this isn’t solely about Mystra -- for whom I'm still exploring alternative solutions aside from the crossbow, by the way. It seems to also involve the lady you were following, Mr. Dekarios. Am I right?"

Trust Tara to get right to the heart of the matter. Gale was tempted to lie. Tempted to talk to her more about Mystra in a bid to change the subject, but that wasn't something he wanted to discuss any more than he already had either.

"She's just... stuck,” he mused, finding no better way to describe it. "She occupies my thoughts even when she shouldn't, and I can't shake them off, no matter how hard I attempt to. It's as exhilarating as it is maddening. It’s just plain wrong."

He felt like a broken record, his mind always circling back to her; to the way her different shades of green attire complemented the softness of her skin, and the beauty of her eyes. Gale could close his eyes and replay every word Tav had spoken in his lectures; he could vividly recall the enchanting manner in which the rules of magic had flowed past her tantalising lips.

Which was ridiculous; he couldn't comprehend how Tav had the ability to overshadow every second thought in his mind. These past two weeks, he had been convinced that his world was imploding. With the news of Mystra's impending arrival at the academy -- and the subsequent revisiting of all the gritty details of their affair with Lae’zel -- along with his concerns about his job, Gale shouldn't have had mental space for anything else. Yet, when he encountered Tav, all his worries seemed to dissipate, leaving him with nothing but the image of Tav in a green sun dress, her shopping tucked under her arm.

"Oh, Mr. Dekarios- Gale,” Tara said, sounding exasperated, “you like her. I really think you should pursue her. She looked lovely. I’m fairly convinced Mrs. Dekarios would adore her."

Gale almost choked. Tara had no clue that Morena had already bombarded him with questions about the girl. If only it were that simple... 

In the years since Mystra, he had made a handful of attempts at courting, none of them lasting very long. While he had found plenty of people attractive, none had truly captured his interest. It had been over three years since he had attempted to court anyone. For the first time since Mystra, Gale found himself genuinely interested in someone, and she was off limits.

"I can't," he said.

Tara climbed into his lap, sitting up so that she could look him in the eye.

"And why is that?" she asked.

"To begin with, she's a student."

That should have been the end of the discussion, but instead, Tara's eyes sparkled with excitement as she leaped off the couch and vanished  from the sitting room. Gale was puzzled by a noise emanating from his study -- that had to be where she’d disappeared off to.

Upon her return, Tara held the policy booklet the academy had included in his welcome package between her teeth. She hopped back onto the couch, nudging the book open to a page she seemed familiar with. He couldn't help but wonder how long she had been perusing his workplace's regulations without his knowledge. 

"Blackstaff Academy's educational mission is upheld through the professionalism in its faculty-student and staff-student relationships. Faculty and staff are advised that engaging in consensual romantic relationships with student members of the Academy community, while not explicitly prohibited ..." she paused, indicating that she had conveyed her message. As she looked up from the text, her eyes glinted with joy.

Trust Tara to discover a loophole in Gale’s situation. He sighed and plucked the book from before her. The section she omitted contained a stern warning about such relationships, instructions to consult specific departments for their policies, and a rule mandating professors to abstain from involvement in academic or professional matters concerning the student.

"It doesn't matter," Gale said when he was done reading. He set the booklet back in front of Tara. "It's still unethical. I can't."

Despite his words, Gale wished he had sounded more resolute, as Tara gave him a familiar sceptical look. He waved her off, not particularly wanting to examine the way his stomach had flipped when she'd read the words, not explicitly prohibited.  Regardless of any possible approval from the academy, Gale believed it was still unacceptable. For all he knew, his relationship with Mystra could have been sanctioned. It shouldn't have been. It should have been stopped long before it started. Gale wouldn't do that to anyone else. He couldn't. He was determined not to subject anyone else to that situation.

"Mr. Dekarios," Tara continued, showing she clearly wasn't finished discussing the matter. "There's a possibility she might not be a student for much longer. She could even be graduating this semester." 

Gale regretted her words, feeling a traitorous flicker of hope rising within him. He quickly dismissed the thought. "And there's also a chance she just began and has at least four years ahead. Can we please move on from this?"

Tara reluctantly gave in and moved to Gale’s side again, rubbing her cheek on his arm. "I'm going to try to get some sleep then," she stated. "One request, Mr. Dekarios -- once you've made your decision, please shave that thing off your face."

Gale scoffed as he watched Tara leap off the couch once more to make her leave. He suddenly felt the urge to grab one of his notebooks. It had been months since he last felt inspired to commit words to paper. Maybe jotting down his thoughts would help untangle the confusion in his mind. 

He ventured into his study and sat down at his desk, a blank sheet of paper before him. His hand hovered over the page, the quill poised to write, but his mind was elsewhere. Thoughts of Tav consumed him, her image etched in his mind with an intensity that both thrilled and tormented him.

He had sworn to himself to keep his distance, to not get too close. But despite his best efforts, he found himself drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

With a sigh, he dipped the quill in ink and let his thoughts spill onto the paper. The words poured out like a river, each line a raw expression of emotions he had bottled up for too long. He wrote of her smile, of the way it lit up her face when she talked. He captured the clever sparkle in her eyes, the way they seemed to know every one of his secrets... those eyes...

As he wrote, he felt a weight lifting from his shoulders. And though he knew the risks, the dangers of letting his guard down, he couldn't stop himself.

✧˚ · .

Tav woke to the sweet scent of onions mingled with garlic wafting through the air. It took her a good moment to fully regain consciousness, her mind still groggy from sleep. With a grunt, she propped herself up on her elbows and squinted at her window; it was still early in the morning if the faint light filtering through was any indication. 

Glancing at the clock on her nightstand, she noted it was just past 6:00. According to Wyll -- who Tav had had the fortune of running into on the way back from the teacher’s lounge yesterday -- Gale's office hours were scheduled from 11:00 to 13:00 on Tuesdays, while Tav's supervision duties didn't start until 11:30. She had a generous five-hour window before her responsibilities began.

She had a whole five hours to herself before her tasks started. That gave her plenty of time to do what needed to be done. But, first and foremost, she needed to get ready for the best Tuesday in all of history. 

With a cheerful hum resonating in her throat and a lively spring in her stride, Tav ventured out of her room and down the hallway, where she found Shadowheart in the kitchen, cradling a mug of freshly brewed coffee. Casting a quick glance at Tav's attire, who was still in her nightclothes, Shadowheart shook her head affectionately before offering her the mug, which Tav accepted with appreciation.

"I whipped up some eggs. Care for some?" she asked, to which Tav responded with an eager nod.

She pondered whether to ask her roommate if she could borrow an outfit for the day. Tav’s plan was to put on a fresh change of clothes after indulging in a lengthy bath, but now she realised that most of the garments in her wardrobe were creased and lacked the allure she wanted to give off today, especially if her goal was to capture Gale’s attention. If she was going to do this, and that was still up in the air, as she had never pursued someone so directly before — then she was going to do this right.

As she swallowed a bite of her eggs, she decided to ask. “Do you think I could possibly borrow a few pieces of clothing for today? I want to ensure I look my best today, especially if…” 

Shadowheart cocked an eyebrow at Tav and smiled mischievously. "Well, well, what's all this about? Planning to sweep a professor off their feet today?" her tone playful yet curious. 

“I'm planning to... well, you know.“ Tav hesitated, her nerves fluttering slightly at the prospect of what she was about to do. “Jaheira arranged for me to see Gale during his office hours today. I'm going to ask him. Directly.”

"Ah, I see," she replied, her tone now more thoughtful. "Well, once he sees you in this, there's not a chance in Nine Hells he'll say no!" With a grin, she dashed off to her room, determined to find the perfect set to enhance Tav's chances of success.

Once she was finished with her breakfast, Tav started heating up some water for her bath over the fire. Soon, the tub in the tiny washroom was brimming with warm water. Shedding her clothes as she made her way there, she relished the familiar ritual.

Stepping into the tub, she felt the soothing embrace of the water enveloping her, a sensation she always cherished about baths. The warmth cocooned her entire body, as if welcoming her back like an old friend. Though she didn’t have the whole day to spend submerged in its comforting depths, she still indulged in a leisurely bath. She was taking her time to lather her hair while mentally rehearsing the words she was going to say to Gale when she saw him.

She'd approach him under the guise of returning his notes, recalling the ones she had acquired from the lecture two weeks ago. A few pieces already resided in the bottom drawer of her dresser, where she intended to keep them alongside other mementos she had amassed over the years. Wyll wasn't the only person incapable of parting with certain belongings -- though in Tav's case, they weren't merely school notes.

Once she got him talking, it would be a simple matter to invite him to dinner.

"Gale, would you like to have dinner with me?" Tav asked the line of hair products on the ledge opposite. She received no response from her inanimate audience, but in her mind's eye, she envisioned a shy smile gracing Gale's face.

She imagined him ducking his head, perhaps blushing slightly before replying, 'Of course, I'd love to.'

Tav would ensure they went somewhere nice, a place where they could secure a secluded table and savour a glass of wine together. Ideally, it would be somewhere near Gale's apartment -- she was dying to see it. After dinner, Gale would invite her for further drinks at his place, an offer she would eagerly accept. Yet, once inside, the pretence of drinks would fall away, replaced by the undeniable pull between them.

As Gale would close the door behind them, he would gently back her up against it. His lips would draw tantalisingly close to hers, ready for a kiss, but at the last moment, he would divert his course, pressing soft lips in the sensitive hollow of her neck beneath her ear.

Tav would arch into the sensation, letting Gale mark her neck and grab her hips as he fit their bodies together. Gale's hands would drift up to the hem of her dress and begin to lift it to reach for her skin. 

He would push himself closer to her, his chest against hers. His tongue would gently graze against her bottom lip until it intertwined with hers. The rough stubble of his beard would scrape against her skin perfectly as the urgency in his kisses grew while his other hand wandered over the skin of her hip.

She would push herself even closer to him, gripping his waist with her knees, commanded by the wetness between her thighs. The boldness of the act would cause Gale to break the heated kiss between the two of them to rest his forehead against hers. He would rock up into her until they set a steady pace, Gale rutting against her, Tav inching to get closer.

In her fantasy, they'd get past that point. He would break away and pull her into the bedroom, guide her down onto the bed, his lips reclaiming hers in a fervent kiss and begin slowly stripping her of her clothes. In reality, the image of Gale ravaging her against the door was enough to send Tav over the edge. She came, hard.

Well, she thought, smiling a little, and let her head gently come to rest against the back of the tub. She wondered briefly if this was something Gale had done -- got off in his apartment thinking of Tav. He probably had, she decided. He probably felt a little guilty about it afterwards, too, she added mentally -- not that he needed to be, but then, Tav knew she was far more comfortable with her arousal than most.

Tav was looking forward to experiencing his desire.

Which wasn't going to happen unless she managed to make some headway in initiating anything, she reminded herself. She scrubbed the rest of her body, the water still blessedly hot.

After she had cleansed herself and dried off, Tav emerged from the washroom, enveloped in a towel, her skin still tingling with the remnants of warmth. She set off in search of Shadowheart, who took her time finding something to wear for her best friend. Tav wanted to look at least a little fashionable. While it hadn't been a priority for her in the past, Gale's impeccable style was reminiscent of someone who frequented the finest tailor in Waterdeep, and she was determined to make sure she looked her best.

Shadowheart was waiting for her in the living room. "I've got just the thing for you," she declared, pulling out a sleek, form-fitting shirt with a wide neck in a deep shade of burgundy, matched by a pleated black skirt. "This will make you stand out in the best way possible."

Tav inspected the outfit with a hint of excitement. It was more daring than her usual attire -- she trusted Shadowheart's judgement. With a nod of agreement, she accepted the pieces and began to change.

As she stepped out of her room, Shadowheart's eyes sparkled with approval. "You look stunning," she remarked, a hint of pride in her voice. She couldn't help but return the smile.

Tav made her way to the washroom once more to check her outfit in the mirror. She adjusted the collar of the shirt which showed off her shoulders and collarbones elegantly and smoothed down the pleats of the black skirt that ended at the bottom of her thighs. She looked desirable. 

The outfit also made her look a little bit older -- not that Tav had ever looked old; her half-elven features defying her age, despite the occasional reminder of achy joints which needed relief salves.

With a final spritz of perfume and a quick once-over in the mirror, she was ready to head out the door. A spring returned to her step as she navigated the streets, making her way toward the academy. Glancing at her watch, she noted that it was now close to 10:30.

She'd debated whether to arrive early, not wanting to appear overeager, but also not wanting to be forced to wait behind a line of actual students. Jaheira had rather made the decision for her, her window long enough to do what Tav needed to do, but not long enough for her to linger. She made her way to the Magic and Conjuration department.

Tav navigated through the corridors of the academy, her anticipation building. Although she had a rough idea of where Gale's office was located, it still took her some time to pinpoint its exact position. His office was on the same floor as Wyll's, though on the opposite side of the building.

Upon finally reaching her destination, to her surprise, the door to Gale's office stood wide open. Inside, Gale was hunched over a notebook, his hair falling across his face as he concentrated intently on the page, his quill moving with purpose. To Tav's bigger surprise, he was alone.

She paused outside the door, taking a moment to admire the graceful lines of Gale's shoulders before she lightly rapped her knuckles against the frame.

Startled, Gale glanced up, his features initially registering surprise before softening with recognition as he realised it was her. His eyes trailed appreciatively over her figure, a gentle smile gracing his lips as their gazes met, which made Tav's heart leap in her throat.

She returned the smile, giddiness quickly turning to confusion as Gale's expression shifted, his demeanour suddenly guarded and distant. It was as though he was fighting against his natural inclination and purposely setting up barriers between them.

The man was as perplexing as he was irresistible.

"Is this a bad time?" Tav asked tentatively, her confidence wavering as she observed Gale fighting to keep his face neutral. The abrupt shift from warmth to cautious indifference made her question the wisdom of her decision to visit him.

"It's fine, Miss Tav. What can I do for you?" his tone polite yet distant.

She hesitated, uncertainty gnawing at her resolve until she noticed a hint of pleading in Gale's eyes. Despite his guarded exterior, there was still a hint of invitation, a silent urging for her to enter.

Tav  stepped through the doorway and settled into one of the chairs arranged in front of Gale's desk. 

"You know, you can just call me Tav," she suggested gently, not quite certain why he always insisted on being so formal, unless... "I'm not sure if it’s customary for you, but it's perfectly acceptable for you to use just my name."

Gale blinked, his gaze momentarily fixating on the notebook still lying open in front of him as if surprised to see it there. With a quick motion, he closed it and slid it aside, well out of Tav's reach. She couldn't help but wonder what secrets it held.

"Just Tav, then," he acquiesced, and the way he uttered her name, like it was something utterly forbidden, twisted her stomach into knots.

Despite his acknowledgment, Gale remained silent, continuing to stare across the desk like he wasn't quite certain what to make of her visit. Tav cleared her throat, ready to proceed.

"I just wanted to apologise for what happened. That Thursday, I mean, when you left," Tav began, her voice soft yet sincere. She reached for her satchel, carefully concealing the notes Wyll had given her and the poetry collection she carried within, before retrieving Gale's cue cards. "Also, you left these behind," she added, extending the cards towards him.

Gale, still regarding her with a focused gaze, accepted the cards and began to flip through them. "Were these all of them? I could have sworn there were more," he remarked, causing Tav to fight back a blush.

"I'm not sure," she responded, feigning uncertainty. She rummaged through her bag, putting on a show of searching. I could check at home, in case they fell out."

To her relief, Gale shook his head and set the cards down on top of his notebook. "I don't need them," he declared. There was a momentary pause, during which Tav waited expectantly, sensing that he was on the verge of saying something more.

The silence stretched on, threatening to become awkward, when Gale finally spoke up.

"I should apologise too," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of self-consciousness. "For taking off like that. Both times." He offered a somewhat lopsided smile. "I wasn't expecting to hear about Mystra of Netheril."

"You know her?" Tav asked, curious now.

The change in his expression was immediate, skin draining of colour, his face turning to one of horror. She had never been particularly good at reading people, but it was easy to tell Gale hadn't meant to share that knowledge. Sensing his discomfort, she hurriedly sought to ease the tension.

"I take it you're not a fan," she ventured, her tone light as she tried to inject some humour into the situation. "Can't blame you. Mystra's work always struck me as rather shallow. If magic is about respecting the Weave without seeking to dominate it, then her focus on manipulating magical energies seems misguided. It's like she's trying to control magic as if it were just theoretical knowledge, all to extend her own life. Hard to understand how she became a leader in this field."

Tav held her breath, bracing herself for Gale's reaction. She had taken a gamble by revealing her true thoughts on Mystra's work -- while she was prepared for disagreement, she believed in standing by her reasoning. She didn't think he would shun her simply because their opinions on magic differed. Still, there was a chance Gale shared her views, his expression hinting at, at the very least, a dislike for the woman.

Gale, who had been looking at Tav with wide eyes, resembling a startled deer, chuckled softly, the tension between them gradually dissipating.

"You'd probably loathe my work," he remarked.

And that wasn't at all what she was aiming for, so Tav shook her head, quickly interjecting, "On the contrary, from what I've read of your work, it reflects a remarkable humility and reverence for the Weave. Your profound understanding of magic's intended purpose shines through every word. You have marvellous insights into its intricacies."

Gale blinked once, then again, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

"You've read my work," he stated, a mixture of flattery and embarrassment evident in his tone. Tav let her smile take on a seductive edge. It seemed things were finally going her way.

"I've come across a few collaborative pieces," she admitted. "They're not easy to find, you know."

Gale chuckled nervously at Tav's remark, tinged with a hint of tension as he rose from his seat and made his way to one of the bookshelves adorning the far wall. Retrieving a binder, he flipped it open, scanned its contents, then closed it before handing it to her.

Tav's hand trembled slightly as she accepted it.

"Well, should you wish to delve deeper into what I've written, I penned this manuscript as an introductory guide to the practice of magic -- unpublished for now, but I dream of it one day becoming a trusted handbook for aspiring practitioners," Gale explained, his hand brushing through loose tresses of his hair in a gesture of unease. "I'd truly welcome any thoughts you might have on it."

Despite his awkwardness, Tav couldn't help but find him endearing.

"Thank you," she replied, holding the binder to her chest. "I look forward to reading it."

Gale nodded in response, his unease palpable enough that Tav sensed it was time to steer the conversation in a different direction. Seeing Gale hesitate to retake his seat, she rose from hers instead, pausing briefly to stow the binder in her bag before standing. He watched her closely, his expression uncertain.

"I was thinking," Tav started, her voice betraying a hint of nerves. This is it... Gale's expression was so hopeful, so open, that it bolstered her confidence. "I was thinking, maybe we could grab dinner sometime."

With the words finally out, Tav felt a surge of excitement, but it was short-lived. In an instant, Gale's face fell, his previous ease replaced by a look of sorrow and longing. Tav sensed his answer even before he gave it.

"I'm sorry," he began, his voice heavy with regret. It was clear that he struggled to find the right words, though they were unnecessary -- his rejection was unmistakable.

"Right, sorry," Tav muttered, feeling utterly adrift. She wanted to ask why -- to demand an explanation, because Gale had just shared something so personal with her only to reject her invitation. But embarrassment and dejection overwhelmed her, leaving her unable to articulate her thoughts.

"I'll just..." she trailed off, her words faltering as she struggled to sling her bag over her shoulder. Once she managed it, she gestured awkwardly towards the door. Gale moved forward, his expression a mix of sympathy and regret.

“Tav," and Gods, the way he said her name,  "I..." was as far as he got before a knock on the office's door frame startled them both. Their momentary exchange was shattered by the unexpected interruption -- Tav realised she had forgotten to close the door.

The sudden appearance of Ms. Silverhand in the doorway caught Tav off guard. She stood there, holding a file folder in her hand, looking somewhat awkward as if she had just realised she was interrupting something.

"Sorry," she apologised, her gaze shifting between the two of them. Turning to Gale first, she continued, "Sorry, Professor Dekarios, I just needed a few signatures." Then, she glanced back at Tav.

"It's okay," Tav responded, feeling relieved by the interruption. "I was just on my way out." With one last glance at Gale, who looked miserable, she made her way towards the door, brushing past Ms. Silverhand as she exited.

"Tav," she had called after her, but Tav was already far enough away to pretend she hadn't heard, choosing to ignore the call as she hurried away.

Chapter Text

Gale felt as though a vice had clamped around his heart, squeezing tighter with each passing moment. He stared at Ms. Silverhand, frozen in the doorway, and he struggled to draw a breath.

He had wanted to explain. He had wanted to tell her everything. 

He wanted to tell her how she consumed his every waking thought, how he longed for something more between them. He wanted to explain why this couldn't be, to ask when she would graduate, because maybe then they would have a chance.

For a fleeting moment, he entertained the idea of offering to leave the academy, of escaping the constraints that kept him from pursuing her openly. But the reality of such a decision sank in quickly -- where would he go? 

Meanwhile, Ms. Silverhand stood awkwardly in the doorway, holding file folders limply in her hands.  "I didn't mean to interrupt anything between the two of you, I assure you," she insisted.

Her attempt to reassure him only fueled Gale's frustration. Did she really think he was involved with his student? The accusation left him feeling lightheaded, his legs threatening to give way beneath him. He gripped the edge of the bookshelf tightly to steady himself, his vision swimming with uncertainty and doubt.

"Are you all right?" Ms. Silverhand inquired, taking a step closer to him. His mind screamed for her to leave, to give him space.

"I'm fine," Gale finally said. "And I'm not sleeping with Miss Tav," he added, rather defiantly. This time, it was Ms. Silverhand's turn to widen her eyes in surprise.

"I see, my apologies. I simply meant, you know, if there were any personal dynamics between the two of you..." here she made a gesture that Gale supposed was meant to convey everything she had thought they were already doing (a notion that only fueled his frustration), "It wouldn't be an issue. For any of us."

And what was he meant to say to that? Because it should have been a problem; it should have been a very large problem, and the fact that she didn't perceive it as such -- that a department advisor was even suggesting to sleep with a student -- made Gale feel sick to his stomach.

By Ilmater’s ashes, was this just the sort of thing that happened? Was this why Tav was interested in him? Had Gale completely blown his ordeal with Mystra out of proportion? He wanted to expel Ms. Silverhand from his office -- to make her vanish into thin air.

"What do you need me to sign?" he asked instead, his tone heavy with a deep sigh.

Ms. Silverhand hesitated before cautiously entering the room, her apprehension palpable as she feared Gale's potential anger. She handed over the file folder she was carrying, and Gale accepted it with heavy hands. Inside were several departmental documents. He returned to his desk and methodically signed each one.

When he finished, he crossed back to Ms. Silverhand's side and extended the folder to her. "Here. Now, please leave," he pleaded, his expression pained.

Ms. Silverhand nodded in understanding. "Okay," she said, already halfway out the door.

Gale was glad to see the back of her. He waited until she had vanished down the hall to cross back over to his desk, to sink into his chair and let his head fall onto the desk.

He wanted to go after Tav. He also wanted to let her go -- thought it might even be better this way, a clean break exactly what he needed to get over this... crush, or infatuation, or whatever it was.

Perhaps now they could move past this awkward flirtation and concentrate on a professional relationship. Tav was still one of his best students -- even if her name didn't appear on any of Gale's official documentation. He admired her; he respected her. He shouldn't have been lusting after her to begin with.

Gale would do his job. He would help foster Tav's innate talent -- and she had innate talent, maybe lacking on the casting level but all the mental levels were in place and well-honed. Gale wondered if she had a favoured school of magic, something she felt at ease with, and found himself wanting to see it if she did.

He could put aside these feelings and do what he was trained to do.

It was funny how making the decision only served to tighten the vice around his heart.

✧˚ · .

Jaheira sensed it -- the moment she laid eyes on Tav, she knew. Tav had offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile,  but knew it fell flat when her mentor dragged her aside, heedless of the interruption to Professor Oblodra's seminar. Once they were alone, Jaheira wasted no time in asking if Tav wanted to cancel her supervision for the day.

"I'm fine. Really, it’s okay. I've got this," Tav assured her, ignoring the disapproving glare from Professor Oblodra. When Jaheira hesitated, Tav gently nudged her towards the door.

Rejection was nothing new to Tav. It had been a frequent companion throughout her life, happening more often than not -- usually her background as a street urchin sent most of her suitors running.

When she was younger, Tav had often found herself drawn to people in the city who were clearly well-off. She longed for the stability and comfort that came with wealth, rather than simply seeking to take advantage of it for her own benefit. Since arriving in Waterdeep, her romantic pursuits had been scarce.

Her only “entanglement”, if you could even call it that, had been with Rion, who had been very sweet but told her point blank that nothing serious could come of the two of them. All of that aside, however, this rejection from Gale was still a first for her -- it was the first time someone had let her get to the point of outright asking and then rejected her.

It hurt.

It hurt even more because it was Gale. It seemed absurd, considering Tav's limited acquaintance with him -- really, how well did she even know the man? Yet, she genuinely liked Gale, perhaps more than she had ever liked anyone before.

Professor Oblodra's seminar seemed to go on forever, and despite being present, Tav couldn't recall a single word of it. Her mind wandered, wanting to be anywhere but where she was. She went through the motions of assisting, fetching supplies and answering questions half-heartedly, her focus elsewhere. 

Once the seminar concluded, Professor Oblodra cast a chilly glare her way, accompanied by a disapproving harrumph. Tav sensed that her performance hadn't met expectations, and she braced herself for potential repercussions. Given her recent distraction, she wouldn't be surprised if she lost her charm with most of the Natural Sciences department altogether.

It was fast approaching noon by the time Tav got back to her flat, where she found Shadowheart sitting at the small wooden table near the entrance -- their usual spot for dinners and Tav’s late-night grading sessions whenever she couldn’t bother to do it during the day. Shadowheart had her head propped up on one elbow, munching on what appeared to be cheese biscuits from one of the plates her mother had donated to them.

Their flat could best be described as a reflection of their past lives coming stitched together from various threads. They hadn't done much decorating since moving in, as the apartment already contained most of the necessary furniture for cooking, sleeping, and bathing. Tav had had very little to bring with her to begin with, so most of the new additions to their living space came from Shadowheart's family -- bookshelves, the sofa, cutlery, kitchen utensils, and plants.

If their friends visited and noticed the shabby furnishings, the girls felt no embarrassment. They rather liked keeping the apartment as their own personal sanctuary, and they cherished it the way it was.

When their eyes met, Shadowheart's eyebrows furrowed. "What happened?" 

Tav glanced over her shoulder before closing the door behind her. She shed her satchel and tossed it onto a nearby chair, then made her way to the sofa across the room and collapsed onto it with a heavy sigh.

"Hello to you, too," she said, but Shadowheart merely frowned deeper, so she knew there was no getting out of this. "I asked him to dinner. He shot me down. That's the gist of it."

Her expression softened, but Tav shook her off. She didn't particularly want any comforting just now.

"I really thought… Do you know, he handed me an entire manuscript of his own writings just before? He just handed me this binder,” Tav hadn't had time to read any of it yet, said binder a heavy weight in her satchel, "and he looked at me with those eyes like I was the light of his life, and then..." she gestured absently, struggling for words.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Shadowheart murmured sympathetically. Rising from her seat, she crossed the room to Tav's side on the sofa, enveloping her best friend in a comforting hug.

"It's okay. It's just..." Tav's voice trailed off, her words muffled against Shadowheart's shoulder.

"You liked him," Shadowheart finished for her softly, her hand tracing soothing circles on Tav's back. Tav nodded, her embrace tightening.

"I actually thought he might be the one, you know," Tav confessed, her voice tinged with vulnerability. Admitting such a sentiment felt almost foolish, given her usual scepticism towards soul mates and things like love at first sight. But since meeting Gale, she couldn't help but entertain the hope that maybe, just maybe, such notions were real.

Shadowheart eased back slightly, a soft smile playing on her lips -- and Tav couldn't even begin to figure out where it was coming from. She shot her friend a questioning look, but Shadowheart remained silent, prompting her to narrow her gaze.

"What?" she asked.

"I’m proud of you," Shadowheart replied, her tone gentle and sincere.

Tav shook her head, though she suspected the reason behind Shadowheart's pride. Once upon a time, she wouldn't have mustered the courage to confront a situation like this, but now she was starting to see the value in the clarity of Gale's rejection. It meant she could move forward, opening a new chapter where she could find someone who was truly meant for her.

She craved that. She craved to build a life with someone beyond her work and the occasional infatuation. Not that her friendship with Shadowheart was lacking -- far from it. That girl was her family. But Tav desired something more.

"I still made a complete fool of myself," she admitted, attempting to convince herself that embarrassment was the worst part. But deep down, she knew that it really, really wasn't.

✧˚ · .

The next evening found Tav still in a mopey state as she waited for the water to boil for her tea. She had carried her melancholy through her Cultivation and Propagation course, a fact that hadn't escaped the notice of at least two of her students, who had even commented on it. She’d tried focusing her attention on something productive, Halsin's note from that morning a reminder of the research session he expected her to schedule soon. She wasn't particularly in the mood to dive into research, but considering how little work she'd been doing lately, she figured she ought to. Still, she wanted…

She wasn't entirely sure what she wanted. Part of her wished to storm back to Gale's office and demand an explanation. She wanted to confront him about leading her on (because reflecting back, it was clear that was exactly what Gale was doing), when he had no intention of taking things further. Perhaps, she realised, she was entering the anger stage of her rejection. 

The manuscript Gale had given her still lay untouched. Tav hesitated to read it, fearing to hear his voice as she read the prose and dreading the possibility of finding her unanswered questions laid bare on the pages. But more than that, a part of her feared finding nothing at all, leaving her with more uncertainty than before. 

Before leaving home that morning, she had set the binder aside, leaving it perched on the edge of the table in her flat. It continued to beckon her now. Tav couldn't understand why she felt compelled to subject herself to such torment. Perhaps she should have simply wrapped it, left it unread, and sent it back to Professor Dekarios in the Magic and Conjuration department. It would have been just another mundane package exchanged among instructors, commonplace at the academy.

She had nearly convinced herself to delve into the manuscript when a knock sounded at the front door. Startled, Tav hastily tucked a loose strand of hair behind a pointed ear as she made her way to answer it.

To her surprise, it wasn't Gale standing on the other side, though why she had expected him, of all people -- who wouldn’t even know her address, by Oak Father -- she couldn't fathom. Instead, Shadowheart greeted her with a casual "Hey," slipping into the apartment as Tav stepped aside to let her in. Shadowheart kicked off her shoes and settled into her usual seat at the table. "Still not feeling any better?" she asked.

"You don't have to keep checking on me, you know," Tav replied, leaning against the closed door and fixing her friend with a pointed look. Tav had grown up without the guidance of a mother; she certainly didn't need one now.

"I know," Shadowheart conceded, "but I was talking to Karlach..."

"What?" Tav interrupted, pushing herself off the door and crossing the room to stand in front of her. "You talked to Karlach about this?"

It wasn't that Tav was incredulous that Shadowheart had confided in their friend (she adored Karlach), but the last thing she needed was for this to spread to Wyll and then throughout the school. While he wasn't one to gossip, the more people who knew about it, the greater the likelihood of rumours spreading. Tav could already imagine her students whispering behind her back: Did you hear Miss Tav got rejected by the Illusions professor?

"I was talking to Karlach," Shadowheart said again, "because she's my friend, and friends share things. She suggested hitting the Dragon tonight or this weekend. Maybe exploring some other taverns, where you might find, and these are her words, not mine, "a hot-bodied young thing to lift your spirits".”

It was a typical rebound solution: get over an infatuation by finding a new one. Tav had done it before, and would undoubtedly do it again. But the thought of going out now  left a sour taste in her mouth. Maybe she was just getting too old for this.

"Come on. It might be good for you," Shadowheart insisted. "And I'll even let you lead us through the canals."

Tav paled at the suggestion, recalling the last time they had ventured around the canals after a few drinks. Shadowheart had fallen in and Tav had to jump after her because she couldn’t swim. Actually, it had turned out to be a pretty good night, despite the mishaps, with their friends joining them in the water under the moonlight.

"Fine," she relented, "but if I end up so drunk that I start hitting on one of my students, you're taking the blame." 

"I'll do my best to steer you toward the twenty-five and older crowd," Shadowheart pledged, raising her hand in assurance.

Tav still wasn't thrilled about going out. She would have much preferred a quiet dinner with Gale, preferably somewhere close to his place, but Shadowheart probably had a point. If Gale wasn't interested (and she was reluctantly starting to accept that fact), then there was no point in dwelling on it. There had to be someone else in the city who was a better fit for her.

✧˚ · .

Tara stood in one place, not quite comprehending what she was seeing. 

At the tender age of ten, Gale had summoned her when his parents refused to get him a kitten, relying on magic to solve his problems. Back then, he had been overflowing with curiosity and ambition and inadvertently bonded them for a lifetime. Although Tara had always come and gone as she pleased, Mr. Dekarios held a special place in her heart.

She watched him grow up while caught in a dichotomy between her feline instincts and a sense of maternal duty for the boy. His ambition had often left him without friends, as many people within his school years were older and dismissed the idea of befriending a younger kid like him. But even when he had been at his lowest, playing with Tara always lifted his spirits.

She knew she was one of the few who truly cared for Mr. Dekarios, providing comfort with treats and blankets during tough times. More than a pet or a sibling, she felt almost like a mother to him, though she'd never admit it. Seeing him happy was all she truly wished for.

"I'm home," Tara called out as she landed on the windowsill, peering into the dimly-lit tower. She had only been gone a few hours, but Mr. Dekarios hadn't been home when she left, and she knew he'd return before she did. When he didn't answer, worry instantly crept in.

"Yoohoo, Mr. Dekarios…" she tried calling again, her concern deepening. There had been only one other time in their lives when he hadn't returned home. She remembered waiting anxiously, perched on the sofa across from their door, her body tense with anticipation as the hours dragged on. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, she gave up waiting. It had been six hours by then, the clock ticking into the early hours of the morning.

The familiar pull had eventually guided her to a clearing on the side of Mount Waterdeep. The area had been saturated with magic as she discovered him there, his body and spirit shattered. All she could do was cast a faint healing spell to close his wounds before it was safe for her to fly off in search of the nearest guard post.

That was the day Mystra, that horrible woman, had finally shown her true colours. Tara had seen it coming from the beginning.

But now, as Tara rounded the corner into the sitting room, she found Mr. Dekarios sprawled out on a settee, two bottles of Tethyrian wine from the kitchen collection standing by the foot of the seat next to him. It was hard to see him like this. There was no trace of the bright young wizard whose laughter had echoed through the halls of the Dekarios home. 

Instead, here he was now, lost in a drink-induced slumber, a mere shadow of his former self. He looked dejected; reminiscent of that lost little boy she'd comforted so many times before. Only sleep seemed to ease the lines from his face, his body relaxed as he slept, breathing steady and deep. 

Tara jumped up onto the loveseat next to him. "Oh, Mr. Dekarios," she said softly, brushing her cheek against his open palm. He didn't stir.

She could sense what troubled him, of course; she noticed the way his eyes brightened whenever he spoke of the lady -- Miss Tav, she recalled, even when it was only him sharing Miss Tav’s contributions to his lectures. He was falling in love, and she couldn't understand why he continued to deny himself what his heart clearly desired. It took all her self-restraint not to meddle. Mr. Dekarios’, Gale’s happiness meant the world to her, and she felt compelled to guide him toward what he truly wanted.

With nothing else to do but wait for him to wake up, she settled back against him, her gaze drawn to something on the coffee table. It was Mr. Dekarios’ notebook -- one of many, because not only did he always choose the same kind of notebook, down to the exact colour and style, but he also had a unique method of labelling each one. Instead of simply writing the subject on the inside cover, as most people would, Mr. Dekarios had a habit of assigning each notebook a whimsical code name. These names ranged from obscure literary references to inside jokes that only he understood.

She nosed the notebook open and saw the title: Ode to Illusions . He was back to writing, then. As far as Tara could recall (and she liked to think she had a pretty good handle on his habits), he hadn't put quill to paper in what felt like an eternity. It had been several years, to be precise.

Curiosity peaked, she gently nudged it over to the bookmarked page.

I am, like every human: timeless
A mystery, an enigma, without shyness
Seeking solace in a soul's caress,
Seeking solace in a soul's caress.

But, oh, I can't remain unbroken,
I have to bare myself wide open,
All of my secrets plainspoken,
All of my secrets plainspoken.

In all self-torture, in every song,
I want to be loved, to feel strong,
I want to belong,
I want to belong.

Tara barely skimmed the first few lines before realising he was writing about Miss Tav. The silly, ridiculous man, worrying over something as trivial as ethics when it came to matters of the heart. Tara had only seen Miss Tav that one time, standing by the vendor in conversation with Mr. Dekarios, but the way he talked about her made it clear she was worth pursuing. She had also seemed genuinely interested in him. Why couldn't Mr. Dekarios see that? Why couldn't he push past whatever was holding him back and see what was right in front of him?

It was probably a foolish question to ask, because Tara knew what was holding him back. He was afraid of becoming like Mystra. Years ago, after he had finished his major research in Candlekeep and began teaching, he spent a year debating whether to leave the field, terrified that he might somehow destroy the very minds he was trying to sculpt. Tara had thought it was silly at the time -- she could have told him he was nothing like Mystra and never would be -- but he agonised over it daily throughout his first year as a professor.

There were days when Tara fervently wished she could travel through time. She would go back and get rid of Mystra before she ever set eyes on Mr. Dekarios. She had never felt more powerless than she had when he met the dreadful woman.

"Did you like it? That last one, I mean," he asked.

Tara startled, having not realised that he'd woken. She glanced back to the settee. His shoulders slumped, and his once bright eyes were clouded with sadness.

"It's sad," she replied, her breath catching at the hollowness she saw in his gaze. Tara lacked Mr. Dekarios’ talent for poetry; she could only convey the emotions it stirred within her. And it stirred sadness.

He didn't respond to her comment. Instead, he recounted, "She came by my office unexpectedly, catching me quite off guard. Before I knew it, I found myself giving her the manuscript for my book- my book! She then invited me to dinner, just the two of us."

Tara didn't need to ask to know that Mr. Dekarios had declined the invitation. She knew him well enough to understand that he wouldn't have done anything else. And she knew, too, that having to refuse had left him miserable.

"Sir, did you even ask when she was due to graduate?" Tara inquired.

Mr. Dekarios, still struggling into a seated position, shook his head, and Tara understood his reasoning without having to ask. He wouldn't have wanted to promise Miss Tav anything -- wouldn't have wanted her to think she had to put his life on hold waiting for him.

"What if you simply didn't sleep with her?" Tara suggested, grasping for any solution to lift his spirits. "I don’t mean until marriage, of course. Court her by all means, but perhaps refrain from sleeping together until she has finished her studies."

Her suggestion seemed to lighten his mood, eliciting a small smile and a slight chuckle from him at the prospect. 

"You're ever the optimist, my dear Tara," he remarked, leaning forward to scratch behind her ears.

"Then I suppose I can be optimistic about the chances of you going to the market to buy more sardines, sir," Tara quipped, still craving the fish. He laughed in response, nodding in agreement. Tara felt a sense of satisfaction at least momentarily distracting him from his misery.

✧˚ · .

For the first time in perhaps his entire career, Gale found himself arriving early for a class. 

He wasn't sure what he was hoping for, though he tried to quell the hopeful thoughts that danced through his mind. Deep down, he knew exactly what he was hoping for: another chance to say yes to Tav. After the past few restless nights of tossing and turning filled with regret, he was yearning to make amends, burning to say yes. 

Yet, as much as he desired it, he couldn't bring himself to go against his principles. It was one thing to entertain the idea in his mind, but to act on it would be a betrayal of everything he believed in. Still, he wanted...

To see Tav, he supposed. He couldn't shake the longing to see her again, to feel that connection they shared. He harboured a quiet hope that perhaps their connection would endure throughout the semester. He wanted her to tell him that she wouldn’t be his student anymore, that she was graduating, and Gale would offer his congratulations along with an invitation to dinner.

He had never been one for wild fantasies.

It felt strange to linger at the front of the empty classroom. Normally, he tended to time his arrival precisely to coincide with the start of class -- primarily to sidestep any early encounters with students eager to engage in idle chatter or seek answers readily available in the syllabus. Today, however, he found himself settled in and waiting well before the first students filtered in.

None of them were her. Tav was always present when he arrived, though he couldn't discern whether she had arrived a mere minute or ten before him. He secretly hoped it was the latter, he wanted the opportunity to regain their footing.

The few early-bird students appeared taken aback to find him already there. They settled near the back of the classroom, exchanging uncertain glances and the occasional murmured conversation. Gale paid them little mind, striving to maintain an air of casual indifference as he leaned against the podium, a cup of coffee within reach and an open text spread out before him. Today's topic was the Mirror Image spell, and he found himself eagerly anticipating Tav's insights and contributions.

Gale was also eager to hear Tav’s thoughts on his manuscript. After she had departed, he found himself consumed with worry -- an irrational fear, considering most of his writings had been published and critiqued by numerous wizards already. Still, it was different sharing his work with the people in his life -- and somewhere along the way Tav had become one of those people. His writing was deeply personal, offering a glimpse into his connection with the Weave, and he dreaded the possibility of her finding his abilities lacking.

Gale glanced up as another student entered the room, conscious that his eagerness might be more apparent than he intended. It wasn't Tav who walked through the door, but rather, Lae’zel. She looked terribly perplexed. Gale had left her a note in his office, an uncommon occurrence for him, and given his early arrival, he couldn't blame her for her confusion. Nevertheless, he offered her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Lae’zel's expression immediately softened, and she made her way across the room to his side.

"Is there something going on today that I don't know about?" Lae’zel asked in a hushed tone, as if she had forgotten about a test or assignment. 

"No, I simply desired to come early today," Gale replied, which seemed to confuse Lae’zel further, though she refrained from further comment. 

Instead, she deposited her belongings on the back table, retrieved the day's handouts, and began distributing them around the room. 

The room gradually filled up, with more and more students (where had they all come from, Gale still wondered) streaming in. There were just enough desks to accommodate them all, so that by the time the class was scheduled to begin, the lecture hall was brimming with students. 

None of them were Tav.

He frowned, waiting an extra five minutes -- a move that left his students murmuring among themselves and Lae’zel watching him with a wary gaze. After those five minutes were up, Gale concluded that she probably wasn't coming. Would she never return? Had he scared her off for good? Had she given up? Would Gale never see her again? 

With a heavy heart, he started his lecture.

"Today," he began, his tone flat, "we're introducing a new spell into our repertoire." 

With a weary gesture, an image materialised beside him, its movements mirroring his own with a subdued echo. "Mirror Image," he announced, gesturing towards the phantom beside him, "a spell that embodies the illusions we create to mask our true selves."

He sensed immediately that today's lecture would be a struggle. Distracted and disheartened, he found very few students willing to engage without direct prodding. Pushing through his introduction, he couldn't shake the feeling that something (or rather, someone) was missing.

Chapter Text

Tav was sitting on the edge of her bed, torn between the world outside her window and the merciless ticking of the clock on her nightstand, a cup of tea precariously perched on her knee. She watched as the hands of the clock swept past the hour. 

She was officially missing Gale's class.

She'd debated going, of course, fueled by the hope that Gale might share in her misery over the past couple of days. Maybe today would be the day he'd give her that sweet, slightly lopsided smile, engage her in meaningful conversation, and then, just maybe, extend an apology for their awkward encounter in his office, followed by an invitation to a romantic dinner.

But it was precisely these kinds of delusions that ultimately dissuaded Tav from going. Deep down, she was painfully aware that that wasn't going to happen, and the last thing she needed was to subject herself to further torment.

No, Shadowheart had a point; a clean break was probably what she needed. This week, she resolved to throw herself into her research (Halsin would undoubtedly be pleased), and buckle down for the midterm tests looming about two weeks away. Tav had a knack for leaving it to the last minute, but maybe this year she'd break the cycle and avoid the frantic struggles to come up with test questions the night before.

Then, come the weekend, she'd let Shadowheart and Karlach take her to a new tavern, and if she was lucky, she'd meet someone new and leave Gale as nothing more than a distant memory -- just another one that got away.

Her stomach churned at the thought, but she chalked it up to the joint relief tea and promised herself to brew a new cup using a different blend. Making her way to the kitchen, she muttered a quiet Ignis spell to ignite the fire for her fresh pot of tea -- a trick she'd picked up from Wyll not too long ago. Having a few spells at her disposal did make the day-to-day tasks a bit more manageable.

As she busied herself making another pot of tea, her gaze couldn't help but drift to the table where the binder sat, mocking her.

Gale’s manuscript still lay untouched within its confines.

What puzzled her most was why Gale would entrust her with his entire manuscript, something he had likely poured countless hours of labour into and hadn’t yet seen published, if he wasn't interested in her. It just didn't make sense; it wasn't a gesture people typically made, was it? Besides, Tav wasn't exactly an authority on magic -- did Gale expect her to critique his magical prowess? 

Or perhaps there was a deeper message behind his actions. Maybe he was offering her a glimpse into his inner workings, hoping she'd uncover the answers to her questions nestled within the pages of that binder, just waiting to be discovered.

Then again, Tav wondered if she'd end up even more perplexed than she was now. This internal debate wasn't new to her.

"Oh, to Hells with it," she muttered, pouring herself a cup of hot tea before striding over to the table. She sat down in her favourite chair and flipped the binder open to the first page.

Either way, Tav would finally get some closure. If the manuscript turned out to be empty, devoid of any explanation for Gale's recent behaviour, then she would feel justified in her decision to move forward. However, if there was indeed something within its pages that shed light on Gale's actions, then Tav could devise a new strategy. Either outcome seemed preferable to this endless cycle of uncertainty.

He had a well-organised table of contents, which was quite helpful, and the spells covered various schools of magic, making it a beginner-friendly guide for those new to the craft. Alongside discussions of spellcasting techniques, Gale had sprinkled in anecdotes from his own life.

She chuckled a little at the cautionary tale he’d put next to the Ignis spell, recounting a mishap from his childhood when he accidentally set a neighbour's rose bush on fire. Tav could almost picture him as a boy: eyes bright with wonder, teetering on the edge of discovery and disaster.

But it wasn't just tales of his early years that filled the pages. Gale's manuscript also featured mentions of a mentor figure (never named, but clearly important), someone who had guided him through private lessons and frequent meetings beyond the classroom. The details were sparse, yet the closeness between them lingered in the margins, unmistakable.

How professional had their relationship truly been?

Try as she might, though, she couldn't figure out the answer to that. Was it romance that lingered between the words, something tender, perhaps once cherished?

She couldn’t shake the thought. Was this why Gale held himself at arm’s length? Had he suffered a recent heartbreak, or was he still quietly nursing feelings for someone long gone?

Instead of finding the answers she sought, Tav found herself grappling with even more questions.

She read until her eyes began to blur, her vision growing fuzzy from the intensity with which she was reading. The deeper she delved into the manuscript, the stronger her desire grew to truly understand this man, to peel his layers away, to know  him. It was a sense of connection that went beyond mere attraction.

Tav was convinced that Gale would never have shared something so personal -- ignoring the fact that he had likely intended to share it with the wider world when it would eventually be published -- unless it meant something, and she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more, something unsaid. Gale wanted her to know him, to understand him, and she couldn't help but wonder why he would have given her this if he wasn't interested in her.

As she flipped to the beginning again, her eyes caught a passage she’d skimmed past earlier: a stern warning about the importance of practising magic with caution and under proper supervision.

Her brows furrowed as she read Gale's tale of how he had ended up permanently injured due to dabbling in bordering-on-illegal magic without the supervision of another wizard. He stressed the necessity of having someone to watch over you when attempting spells beyond your skill level.

Tav couldn't help but wonder about the nature of Gale's injury. Despite his outward appearance of being fully functional, there was clearly more to the story. Perhaps it was an invisible injury, scars hidden beneath his clothing, or a burden of the spirit that only revealed itself when he was alone.

There was another question nagging at her; how Gale had come to be injured, especially given the closeness he’d described with his mentor? Where had that figure been when the accident happened? Why hadn’t they stepped in?

Then, a colder thought crept in. Was Gale hinting at betrayal? Had he placed his trust in someone dear, only to be abandoned in a moment of need, left with wounds that never fully healed?

Perhaps it was heartbreak that kept him distant now. Perhaps the scars ran deeper than she’d imagined.

That answer was likely too simplistic, real life often infinitely more complex, but she couldn't help but grasp at straws; she wanted something, anything to help her understand. She needed to know.

It was a while before she finally set the binder aside, intending to revisit it multiple times before returning it to its owner. Despite missing the majority of his class, there was still half a morning left to fill. With a sigh, Tav turned her attention to her own tasks. She knew she needed to strike a balance between her obsessive behaviour and her academic responsibilities to avoid becoming consumed by her curiosity — again.

✧˚ · .

Gale tapped his fingers against his desk in thought, glancing at the clock. Lae'zel should be arriving any moment now. He attempted to sift through the stack of papers before him, but his mind refused to cooperate. With a frustrated sigh, he let the papers fall back onto the desk with a dull thud.

Grading papers felt utterly futile when his mind was consumed by memories of what had transpired in this very office a few days prior.

He wasn't entirely certain what to do with himself. He rose from his desk and began to pace, eventually stopping before his bookshelf. Everything looked the same, except for the conspicuous absence of his binder. A pang of longing washed over him as he imagined Tav returning it to him one day, a fleeting hope that warmed his heart.

But deep down, Gale couldn't shake the uncertainty. Would she actually bring it back? He had no backup copies. A foolish oversight on his part. 

The mere thought of rewriting the entire manuscript because the girl he had to turn away kept it to herself, or worse, destroyed it in frustration, filled him with dread.

It was challenging to articulate what he’d felt during the previous class, which ended without any sign of Tav. Disappointed, he supposed. He had spent the remainder of the afternoon, including his Critical Enchantment Methods class, for the lack of a better word moping, debating whether he should seek her out and apologise for any offence he might have caused.

Gale shook his head at the absurdity of the notion. After all, Tav wasn't even officially enrolled in the class; her presence was more likely driven by her interest in Gale rather than Illusion spellcasting -- and Hells, Gale was beginning to suspect that a good number of students weren't there for the magic either. Any enthusiasm she had for the class probably plummeted after facing his rejection.

He might never see Tav again.

That was something he very much did not want to think about, despite his pragmatic belief that it might be for the best in the long run.

Footsteps broke him out of his reverie as Lae’zel approached his office. As usual, she had taken the initiative and prepared a warm beverage for him -- this time, tea. It was a small gesture, one she would seemingly do for anyone, yet it made Gale feel appreciated. Despite her reserved demeanour and reluctance to share much about her background from K'liir, her actions showed she cared.

She placed the mug and a few envelopes on his side of the desk before taking her usual seat across from him and draping her coat over the back. The week’s weather had finally turned seasonably chilly.

"Thank you," Gale said sincerely, offering a smile as he crossed over to his chair and settled in, taking a sip of the tea.

Lae'zel simply nodded in acknowledgment as she reached for the stack of papers he had dropped earlier. He knew he could always count on her no-nonsense, get-stuff-done attitude. Whether it was picking up the pieces he couldn't handle (grading papers, or teaching in his stead when necessary), she was always there to support him.

Since she hadn't broached the topic of his behaviour as she had done last time, and had opted to give him space, it left the initiative to him. He needed an objective, impartial confidant to discuss the matter with.

"Lae'zel, please tell me I'm not mistaken, and your job entails assisting professors, does it not? That's your role," Gale said, his tone inquiring.

She glanced up at him, momentarily hesitant, before ultimately nodding. "That is my duty."

"By some enigmatic gith means, could you theoretically make me normal?"

And naturally, Gale understood that it couldn't possibly be that straightforward. He was well aware that "normal" was a highly subjective concept, with few individuals truly fitting within its confines. Nonetheless, he hoped that Lae'zel grasped the essence of what he was trying to convey.

Lae'zel shook her head, murmuring something in Tir'su before meeting Gale's gaze with a mixture of exasperation and puzzlement. "What makes you believe you're abnormal?"

It was a question he hadn't anticipated. He contemplated divulging more about his encounters with Mystra -- after all, upon closer reflection, he realised that this whole mess with Tav was entirely Mystra's fault, really.

Then, he pondered disclosing his impulsive urge to seek Tav out, to start something that would probably end in disaster and heartbreak. 

"I fear I may end up hurting someone due to a selfish impulse," he decided to say.

Lae’zel, who was listening more intently than Gale had ever seen, didn't say anything for a bit. "Is there someone in particular you are worried about hurting?" she finally asked. 

"Does it truly matter?" he posed the question, uncertain. "I have no desire to cause harm to anyone. My only aspiration is to be better than the person who was supposed to be my mentor."

He couldn't articulate his sentiments any more eloquently than that. All he wanted was to be a better man. Was that truly too much to ask?

Lae'zel locked eyes with him, peering into his soul. "Your concern proves you're already a better man. Figures like Mystra act without remorse. I hope you know you're better than that."

It was a suffocating realisation, one that hadn't dawned on him until this moment. He attempted to envision Mystra in his position, grappling with the repercussions of her actions toward him (and likely countless others), but the image eluded him. 

Despite that, Gale hadn’t disclosed everything yet. How could Lae'zel possibly understand the gravity of the situation without the full extent of his confession? With a shaky exhale, Gale decided to cut to the chase.

"I believe I may have developed feelings for one of my students," he confessed.

It seemed to be the most direct path to the core of his issues.

✧˚ · .

The week inched forward agonisingly slowly.

There was no denying it. Tav felt as though she were trudging through thick fog, her movements sluggish and her thoughts clouded. She went through the motions of her usual tasks -- teaching classes, nurturing plants, grading assignments, and following Halsin's directives to cultivate samples -- yet she couldn't shake off the grip of misery that enveloped her. In essence, she moped.

Moping wasn't Tav's usual style. At least, not for any prolonged period.

By the time the weekend arrived, she found herself utterly miserable, and had unwittingly spread her gloom to those around her.

When Shadowheart came into her room to check on her on Friday evening, Tav was convinced she would have to cancel their planned night out. The thought of tavern crawling held no appeal for her. She had no desire to indulge in drinking, dancing, or engaging in random romantic encounters. All she wanted was to remain at home, nestled in her bed, and read Gale's poetry — again.

"By Selûne, Tav," Shadowheart exclaimed upon seeing her.

It had been a particularly hectic week, and Tav hadn't seen her flatmate in nearly two days. She tried offering a half-hearted smile from her position behind her desk, surrounded by papers.

 "When was the last time you even ate?"

Tav shrugged, because did it matter? Yet, Shadowheart seemed to believe otherwise. She crossed the room with purpose, disregarding the paperwork Tav was in the middle of, and firmly grasped her shoulders, coaxing her to stand.

Attempting to summon her most pleading expression, she feared it only resulted in a pitiful, unconvincing pout.

"You're going to eat something that isn't tea," Shadowheart declared firmly, her gaze lingering on the numerous empty cups strewn across Tav's desk. "Then, you'll take a bath to freshen up, and change into clean, presentable clothes. Karlach and I will be ready to take you out in three hours."

Tav began to shake her head, because really, she just wasn't up for it, but Shadowheart's determined expression allowed no room for argument. With a nervous swallow, she reluctantly nodded.

And so it was that, not three hours later, she found herself squeezed between Karlach and Shadowheart at the bar counter, perched on a bar stool.

She had finished cleaning up early, eager to simply get the night over with. The tavern the girls picked was only just beginning to attract patrons, and its emptiness was striking -- a stark contrast to the bustling atmosphere of the Dragon even during off-peak hours.

And, okay, despite her initial unease, it wasn't entirely terrible. They spent the first hour gathered around the counter, observing as the tavern gradually filled with a more typical crowd. Tav nursed her first drink, then her second. By the time she finished her third, she felt emboldened enough to get up and explore.

Within minutes, she was no longer in want of conversation partners, some even brazenly offering straightforward propositions, complete with addresses scrawled on notes tucked into her hand.

Yet, none of it was what she desired. She found herself analysing each person who entered her field of vision, always finding some flaw that left the prospect wanting. The hair not long enough, the eyes not the right shade of brown.

After about half an hour of ‘exploring’, she lost what little interest she had left in mingling.

With a resigned sigh, she shuffled back to Karlach and Shadowheart, who remained seated side by side, sharing soft laughter as they observed the tavern's more obnoxious patrons.

"Anyone?" Karlach asked as soon as Tav was within earshot. She shook her head.

"Is it wrong that anyone I meet doesn't even come close to comparing? Not that I'm not enjoying myself," she admitted, because she was, in a sense, "but I'm starting to doubt if this will actually work."

Still, the small outing had succeeded in getting her out of the apartment (and, more importantly, into clean clothes), so she couldn't help but feel grateful, at least.

✧˚ · .

Gale thought a lot. Perhaps more so than was good for him, but he suspected only Tara (and now Lae’zel) would argue as much, attributing his tendency to overthink to unnecessary heartache.

Once his duties were finished for the day, he was out for another one of his walks again, seeking comfort in the crisp autumn air and the vibrant colours that finally adorned the city as the sun set. The past few days had been several days of overcast skies and intermittent rain showers. So as soon as he’d seen that the sky cleared up -- and because he needed to exit the stifling air of his office -- he threw on his coat and headed out.

Gale was making his way towards the waterfront, where the rays of the sun danced on the calm waters of the harbour. He walked across a bridge, pausing on the bridge itself so he could look out at the water. 

The city seemed to take on a different character during this time of year, a quieter, more introspective atmosphere settling over the busy streets. Inhaling deeply, the chilly air filled his lungs as the satisfying crunch of leaves beneath his feet accompanied his thoughts.

He needed this, especially after the weight of his conversation with Lae’zel a few days past.

Falling for a student doesn't make you a monster, Gale. You can't control who you develop feelings for.

For several drawn-out, agonising minutes, he lived under the delusion that someone’d just granted him permission to pursue Tav.

I'm not advocating you to court this student. Your self-imposed boundaries are commendable, necessary even. For your own sake, not theirs.

Lae’zel had told him that his feelings for Tav were okay, that he was allowed to feel them. And now, with a faint spark of hope igniting in his chest, Gale was beginning to believe her, if only a little.

Seagulls soared overhead, their calls breaking him out of his thoughts as Gale resumed his stroll again. The sun had finally dipped below the horizon, its fading light cast long shadows over the buildings. The hour was getting late, so he reluctantly turned towards his home, his path leading him past a narrow alley tucked between two buildings.

His thoughts turned to Mystra. Had she ever grappled with boundaries? Likely not; it wasn't in her nature. 

At the time, it had felt like love.

He recalled that first night. Lying in her bed, Mystra hovering above him, her fingers tracing a path from his sternum to his navel. Gale had trembled from the sensation. Mystra had simply smiled, and in that moment, it had seemed like love.

But whatever he had felt for Mystra paled in comparison to her. Perhaps he was willing to go so far as to say that, as a young man usually too absorbed in his studies, he had simply basked in the attention Mystra had given him. It hadn’t been love.

He was starting to recognise that Tav might be the first person he was truly interested in courting, perhaps even building a life with since- maybe ever.

That would certainly explain the intensity of his feelings.

The cursed weight on his chest decided to flare up at that moment, causing Gale to stagger slightly from the jolt of pain -- he had been somewhat careless about his doses over the past few days.

He needed to eat, and soon. Knew he needed some temporary relief for his condition until he could make it home. He dreaded the looming necessity of taking his medication once he crossed the threshold of his front door.

He was nearing an establishment called The Flagon Dragon, where he hoped he could find a decent meal. 

Gale found himself pleasantly surprised as he stepped through the doors into a spacious interior. The place appeared much larger than it had seemed from the outside, with a small stage to one side where two bards were already in the midst of playing some sweet melody.

Directly in front of the stage was a small area surrounded by tables, while along the opposite wall stretched a long bar with several bar stools. Despite its unassuming exterior, the tavern had style and he could definitely see himself coming here more often.  

He made a beeline for the bar counter and took a seat on one of the tall red stools, his stomach rumbling in anticipation. The barkeeper was a tall and lean man -- a high elf, judging by the way the tips of his ears were pointed -- his silver hair fell in flawless waves, framing the sharp contours of his face. He moved with a grace that seemed almost unnatural, his movements were fluid and precise as he expertly poured and mixed drinks behind the bar. Although his back was turned to Gale, he couldn't help but watch him, entranced, waiting for the moment when he would turn to face him.

The lone clock on the far wall ticked by endlessly, its rhythmic beats merging with the clinks of bottles atop the counter.

Finally, the barkeeper turned around. 

"Welcome to the 'Dragon. What can I do for you?" A smirk graced his features as he addressed him.

"Um, do you happen to have quipper fish with hundur sauce?" he asked. Gale couldn't help but feel a bit flustered under his gaze.

The barkeeper raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Luckily for you, we do have quipper fish in our selection. Let me check with the kitchen about that hundur sauce.” 

With a graceful slide, he slipped out from behind the counter, disappearing into the depths of the kitchen.

As Gale waited for his order, his gaze wandered across the room, idly scanning the rest of the tavern. The music the pair of bards were playing was overlaid by a softer, feminine voice coming not far from where he sat. He turned his head and froze, his hands clenching into fists on the countertop.

He blinked once, then again. Even with her back to him, there was no mistaking it; Tav was seated at a table along the left wall. She was engaged in conversation with a man whose features seemed vaguely familiar to Gale, though not enough for him to place him. The man was big, muscular, and undeniably handsome, his figure dwarfing the standard-sized table. Against his better judgement, he felt a pang of jealousy rise in his chest.

He just sat there, quiet and still, unaware of the passage of time, before a clearing of the throat broke him out of it. He swallowed, hard, and redirected his gaze to the barkeeper.

"The kitchen is working on the hundur sauce as we speak. Shouldn't be too much longer," he announced, a smug grin on his face before turning around to attend to a couple of glass tumblers that needed cleaning.

Within moments, a tantalising aroma wafted from the kitchen, and the man brought him a plate of perfectly cooked quipper fish smothered in savoury hundur sauce.

"Here you go, sir,” he said as he slid the plate in front of him, "Enjoy your meal, and let me know if there's anything else I can get for you."

Gale offered a quick, grateful nod. "Thank you," his voice slightly strained with unease.

His hands trembled slightly as he reached for his fork. He needed to finish his plate as quickly as possible if he wanted to avoid any unnecessary attention.

As he took a hurried bite, a small, traitorous urge began to envelop him. Should he risk approaching her, despite how embarrassing it could end up being? What if that man sitting across from Tav was attempting to court her? The mere thought sent jealousy coursing through him, igniting unease in the pit of his stomach.

The sweet sound of Tav's laughter reached his ears just then, pulling his attention towards her like a moth to a flame. His heart skipped a beat at the sound, only for a pang of bitterness to overshadow it as he wasn't the one to cause it.

It was ridiculous. Stupid. Completely, utterly absurd… and yet it was all Gale could think about.

Absorbed in his own thoughts, Gale scarcely registered the barkeeper -- Astarion, if he’d caught the name right -- engaging the new patrons a few seats away from him in friendly conversation. Their chatter and mirth was the polar opposite of how he felt.

He took the last bite of his fish, stabbing at it with more force than necessary as he hastily scarfed down the final piece on his plate. He settled on the decision to hurry out the door, needing to escape the tavern.

As he rose from his seat, he left a handful of coins on the counter, perhaps more than was required. But in that moment, his mind was already consumed, leaving little room for anything else.

When the coins clattered loudly against the countertop, Gale watched as the large man's expression flickered in his direction, followed by Tav's curious gaze over her shoulder. Their eyes locked, stares wide and mouths falling slightly open in wordless surprise. Despite the distance of several tables between them, there was nothing, no cover to hide Gale’s steadily embarrassed face.

At least he wasn't the only one caught entirely off guard. 

Before the awkwardness could escalate any further, he looked away first, his body turning sharply as he made a beeline for the door.

With a heavy sigh, Gale pushed open the tavern door and stepped out into the cool evening air.

✧˚ · .

Two Hours Earlier

Tav blinked against the blinding angle of the light pouring in through the greenhouse's glass panes. The position of the sun's rays indicated that dusk had already settled in. How long had it been since she last looked up from her notes?

In the corner of the room, Halsin's forearms were smeared with dirt as he caringly tended to a group of starblooms.

"Did you realise it's already sunset?" Tav asked. This wasn't the first time they had become so absorbed in their tasks that they lost track of time. However, it felt like it had been ages since it last happened. Halsin paused his work, glancing up at Tav with a puzzled expression.

She gestured towards the window, observing with a hint of amusement as Halsin turned to look. He blinked several times, then shook his head with a sheepish grin. 

"I suppose that explains why I'm feeling hungry," he remarked, almost to himself. Tav chuckled, though the rumbling of her own stomach reminded her that grabbing a bite to eat to make up for the meals she’d missed would be a good idea at this point.

She considered the possibility of seeking out Jaheira, checking if she was still around the academy premises and if she'd be interested in looking for something to eat. She was one of the few pillars keeping her sane these days. 

There was also the distinct possibility that perhaps she should simply go home, nibble on a piece of stale bread, and then crawl into bed. But Halsin was the one who made the decision for her.

"Shall we venture to that place you spoke of? ‘The Dragon’, was it — for the sake of our sanity?" Halsin echoed her words.

And Halsin so very rarely suggested they do anything save work that Tav was startled into accepting.

They were colleagues, not friends yet. Yes, they shared a mutual respect for each other's work, yet they were only acquaintances as she thought about it. It wasn't that she had ever been reticent about the idea of pursuing any sort of deeper friendship with Halsin; quite the contrary, actually. His easy going nature made conversation flow easily enough between them. However, up until now, they simply hadn't found the chance to spend time together outside of work.

They ventured to the tavern after finishing up, and it was nice enough weather to enjoy the walk on the way there.

The Dragon was lively as ever. Tav ordered a cup of tea when Halsin ordered mead, disinterested in nursing a beverage all night as she had done so many times before. He eyed her for a moment when their drinks were delivered.

"You should have mentioned if you didn't want to drink," he said, casting a furtive glance towards his pint. "I didn't realise you-" 

"It's okay," Tav interjected hastily, waving her hand. "You're fine. I still drink occasionally, but not as much as before." She added a splash of her herbal remedy into her tea and took a sip, testing it. There was something about Halsin that naturally put her at ease; she knew she could share without fear of judgement. "It's something I've moved past, but I'd rather not test fate." 

Halsin offered her a small smile. "Clearly, you're in a better place now. I'm glad to see that."

"Absolutely," Tav affirmed with a nod, a reminiscent smile now dusting her lips. "At first, it was a bit rocky, but Jaheira managed to knock some sense into me."

He took a sip of his mead. "Herbology suits you. Quite frankly, I can't imagine you doing anything else. When Jaheira introduced you as her new apprentice -- or assistant professor as they're calling it these days -- it just felt right."

And it was moments when he used words like 'apprentice' that really emphasised just how long Halsin had lived.

“Oh, no need to remind me of your elven heritage, Halsin -- I already envy your lack of creaky joints. I wonder if your music taste is too antique for whatever the bards are playing." 

"I do enjoy the occasional contemporary tune to keep things lively,” he said with a grin and they shared a laugh.

Tav marvelled at how easy it was to get on with the man. "You know, after six terms at the academy, it's rather peculiar we haven't simply sat down for a genuine chat unrelated to work. And I have to say, I'm quite enjoying this change of pace." 

Halsin nodded as he took a sip of his mead. "Indeed, I can't deny my role in that. I have a tendency to let the task at hand consume me, letting my work monopolise my thoughts. At any rate..." he trailed off, the ghost of a smile still lingering on his face. "I will try my best to keep this conversation free from anything research-related. What would you like to know?"

“Hmm… maybe share something unexpected about yourself, something that’s beyond your passion for nature and animals," she mused, tapping her chin in contemplation.

Halsin raised his pint of mead as if to emphasise his point. "I suppose I have something of a sweet tooth, although it tends to amuse everyone when I say I like honey."

Tav snorted. "Anything else I should know?"

“I enjoy whittling in my spare time. Ornaments, utensils, and even ducks.” 

Her eyes lit up. "Oh, can I please request a duck as a completion gift once we're finished with the Starbloom project?"

"Consider it done," he replied, his own eyes twinkling with amusement.

Tav rested an elbow on the table, taking a sip of her tea. "There is one more thing….” she paused. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re rather large for an elf, aren’t you?"

“I am?” Halsin chuckled softly at her pained expression. “It's true, I do stand taller than most elves -- quite a contrast to your stature. I must admit, I was rather surprised when I learned of your half-elven heritage. After all, half-elves often inherit characteristics from both sides of their parentage. I thought you would be…"

"Taller?" Tav suggested.

"Yes, perhaps," Halsin agreed with a nod. "Apart from the tips of your ears, which your hair often conceals, I would never have guessed."

“Not exactly surprising,” Tav responded, her tone tinged with a hint of detachment. "Funny thing is, it almost mirrors how disconnected I feel from that side of me."

She reached up, tentatively, and pressed the tip of her finger against her left ear. It was not something she liked to linger on. When she was younger, she found herself yearning for rounded ears -- she didn’t even know if it was her mother's or father's ears that stared back at her in the mirror. Growing up amidst a band of misfits, she quickly learned to hide her ears to avoid questions. Being a half-elf was rare enough, and she felt like a poor excuse of one. Some days, even Common eluded her grasp, despite it being her only language. As for Elven... well, that was a whole other struggle.

"You may not have known your parents, but you still have elven blood flowing within you. Embrace it, for it is a part of who you are," Halsin told her gently. 

Tav furrowed her brow, considering his words. "I suppose you're right. It's just... difficult, sometimes."

"I understand," he nodded, eyes full of empathy. "And you're not alone in this. In fact, there seem to be more half-elves within your circle in Waterdeep than I typically encounter in a century. Yourself, Jaheira, and even your roommate Shadowheart. It's quite surprising."

In that moment, Tav felt a surge of warmth and affection for them. "They're more than just friends. They're my family. Shadowheart's like a sister to me, and Jaheira... she's like my mother, bound to me not by blood, but by love. I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world."

"I don't suppose you're learned in Elven?" Halsin raised an intrigued eyebrow.

Tav shifted uncomfortably in her seat, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "No, not really," she admitted, cheeks colouring with embarrassment. "I've just never had the opportunity. I tried borrowing a book from the academy library once, but the verb conjugation alone felt like a foreign language within a foreign language. It was like trying to decipher a cryptic code sometimes."

"Well, if you're ever interested, I could offer to teach you," he suggested. "I may not be the most experienced tutor, but I do happen to be a native speaker of Elven. And besides, it could be a nice break between testing starbloom samples."

Tav's eyes widened with surprise, excitement washing over her face. "Really? You'd do that?" 

"Of course," Halsin replied with a reassuring smile. "We could even start right now." 

A sense of warmth spread through her chest at his words. "I'd like that very much," she paused, pondering for a moment. “Alright, say something in Elven.”

"Pedin i phith in aníron, a nin ú-cheniog.¹ " He even grinned as he said it.

Tav couldn't hide her confusion; her mouth parted slightly as she tried to process his words. She sputtered for several moments before her mouth caught up with her mind.

"I won't even try to decipher that. So... where do we begin?" 

"Well, 'ped' means to speak, and 'edhellen' means Elven. Allow me to ask you: Pedig edhellen?² "

"...Pedin edhellen³..?" Tav repeated tentatively, then saw Halsin's nod, a proud glint in his eyes. "Pedin edhellen! I speak Elven!" She couldn't help but burst into laughter.

The following expression on Halsin's face resembled that of a proud father -- not that that was a sentiment Tav would be familiar with, but it was heartwarming nonetheless.

But his gaze was suddenly diverted by a loud noise emanating from the counter, and she tried to follow his line of sight. She blinked in surprise.

Gale- Gale Dekarios stood at the counter, his own eyes wide, locking with hers. For a few moments, he just stood there, silent and motionless, before abruptly turning on his heel and leaving.

Her mind screamed at her to follow, to move, to sprint after Gale and set the record straight. What was the point of him giving her the manuscript if it didn’t-

And then it hit her.

He had likely just seen her. With another man. In a tavern. Alone. Not long after he rejected her.

Gale probably jumped to the ridiculous conclusion that Tav would ever, even for a moment, consider being on a date with Halsin.

Hells. She should have seen this coming.

She had just learned of how he had placed his trust in someone close to him, only to be let down -- and now, in his eyes, she appeared to be moving on, carelessly discarding the same trust he had bestowed upon her with the manuscript.

Gods. He thought Tav was already moving on.

And the worst thing was, she could see why. If their positions were reversed, then Tav and her spiralling thought process would have come to that conclusion long ago.

Sucking in a sharp, sudden breath, she pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. She had to fix this.

Suddenly springing into action, she left their table without a word and rounded on Astarion, who looked like he’d just won front-row tickets to a puppet show. “Was that who I think it was, darling?”

“Not now, Astarion. Did Gale mention where he was headed?” she said urgently, beginning to feel the panic begin to curl around her heart. She needed to find him soon.

“Fine, whatever. Your wizard didn't say much to me, except for ordering some strange Waterdhavian fish dish -- at least we can deduce he’s a local. He looked rather murderous while staring at you and that strapping elf. Then he stormed off. I’m sure you caught the end of it,” Astarion replied casually.

She turned around and exited the tavern without another thought. 

Out on the street, her eyes darted from one passerby to another, searching for any sign of Gale. Tav rushed around the block, her steps quickening with each passing moment. But no matter where she looked, he was nowhere to be found.

Frustration gnawed at her. Where could he have vanished so quickly?

"Gale!" she called out, her voice tinged with desperation. But the city swallowed her words, drowning them in the sounds of its busy streets.

Feeling defeated, Tav slumped against a nearby wall. She had to find him, had to make things right. 

She considered the possibility of catching him during his office hours the next day. It would give them privacy, allowing it to just be the two of them to sort things out. She would reveal that she knew about his abandonment issues, and in return, Gale would share the reasons behind his pained expression when he rejected her. His eyes had certainly suggested otherwise. They would lean closer and closer, until they were mere inches apart. She would lean in for a kiss and-

Tav was getting ahead of herself. For now, all she could do was wait and hope that he wouldn’t flee at the sight of her.

Chapter Text

Tav navigated through the morning traffic of Waterdeep like a sailor battling turbulent waves. She barely registered the faces of students flashing by, some with drawn brows and eyes narrowed in concern as she passed. The fleeting thought that she must look a fright flickered in her mind like a fish breaking the surface of the water, noticeable but quickly dismissed. 

Gale’s face lingered in her thoughts, bringing with it an unsettling feeling of dread. She recalled the look of sincere pain in his eyes when he saw her seated with another man. She kept reminding herself that in an hour, she would have the chance to explain everything to him, but then a new worry crept in -- what if he didn’t show up at Blackstaff at all?

Why was it so important to her to ensure he knew that she and Halsin were just colleagues?

This felt different. It wasn’t about wanting to impress him or earn his favour anymore. This was… what was it, exactly? Fear, certainly. Fear that, now that he had let her glimpse into his soul, he might believe she didn’t care at all. 

Fear that he would forever think she’d take his fragile trust and shatter it, along with what remained of his belief in love.

No. She needed to talk to him. Needed to tell him that whatever he thought he saw was wrong. That he ever considered… that she’d ever…

Before she had a chance to fully prepare what she would say, Tav found herself at the department. There were still other places Gale might be, of course. But with his office hours starting in an hour, she imagined that he would likely already be sequestered within his office. 

Normally, there would be a few other faculty members in the corridor. That there was no one there at all was strange, but not unheard of. Whatever the reason, Tav was thankful for the lack of an audience as she raised her hand to knock. Anxiety throbbed like a pulse through her body, but she clenched her fist and brought it down against the wooden door.

There was no answer.

At least, no answer yet.  

It was tempting (so very tempting) to barge into his office and demand his attention to try to explain what she’d done. What he thought she’d done. What it looked like she’d been doing. 

She was preparing to bring her fist down again when she heard footsteps. Her hand faltered in the air. Could that be Gale?

This was the moment of calm. The last moment when she might control what was about to happen. Her fist unclenched and she tucked it behind her. 

“Tav! Figures I’d find you here more often.”

Tav didn’t turn, but she did shut her eyes. Wyll’s voice carried from behind her, and she took a moment to curse herself for arriving over an hour before Gale’s office hours. Hoping she could catch him quickly and without interruptions had been a foolish assumption.

She turned around awkwardly. Wyll’s easy smile faded into concern when he saw the troubled look on her face. “Is there something wrong?” 

“Karlach didn’t tell you?” She said, surprised.

“Tell me what?” His brows knitted in confusion.

Tav sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Gale sort of rejected me but not really, and now he’s seen me with Halsin and probably thinks I’ve moved on, which isn’t true at all, so I came by to see if he’s in his office so I could explain- you know, I might be getting desperate.”

The explanation only seemed to confuse him further. “Rejected but not really? Wha– I think I missed a few steps here.”

She looked around, ensuring they were still alone, before launching into details. “I went to Gale’s office last week to finally ask him about dinner together. Things seemed to be going well; he even gave me this manuscript that’s entirely his writing- the point is, I asked the big question, but we got interrupted, and I thought he’d rejected me. But the way he looked so pained when he said ‘I’m sorry,’ and then the manuscript... I realised he might have hang-ups from someone close letting him down before. But before we could clear the air, he saw me at the Dragon with Halsin, and now he probably thinks I’ve already moved on.”

Wyll took a moment to process her words. “Hells. You’ve really worked yourself into quite a predicament.”

“Exactly,” Tav said, feeling a little hysterical at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. “I’m hoping to catch him early, explain everything, and... I don’t know, see where things stand.”

He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Alright. From what I remember, he’s in his Ethics in Illusions class at this hour, which should be ending soon. So you should be able to catch him in a few minutes.”

Tav smiled weakly. “I just hope I can get through to him.”

“You will,” Wyll said confidently. “Now, let’s get you ready for when he arrives. Maybe start with a deep breath?”

She laughed softly, taking a deep breath as he suggested. “Okay. I can do this.”

Wyll let his arm drop and looked at the clock on the wall, then back at her. “By the way, that manuscript you mentioned… what was it about exactly that had you drawing these conclusions?

“He said he’d intended it as a beginner magic textbook, but it’s filled with his personal anecdotes. There’s this recurring mention of a mentor, and the bond between them felt intimate, even just reading it.”

Wyll raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Did he name the mentor?”

“No, he never names the person, but I think that’s because of what happened. Or at least what I speculate happened. He mentions sustaining a magical injury and stresses the importance of another wizard’s supervision. So, the mentor was no longer there.” 

Wyll scratched the side of his face thoughtfully. “An injury? Strange, I would’ve never guessed. But then again, I assume Gale has his reasons for keeping it hidden.”

Tav nodded, her expression serious. “I don’t know exactly what to make of all this on my own, but it looks to me like he’s afraid to let people in again. Like he’s afraid to trust in love in case it turns on him, like what I assume happened with the mentor.”

“If it means anything, I think you’re on the right track. Being persistent, showing him that you care and that you’re here to stay -- that’s bound to make a difference.”

Tav managed a small smile, feeling some of the weight lift from her shoulders. “The manuscript was a big reason I came here. Why would he give it to me if he didn’t want me to know him? So many things just don’t make sense…”

“He has been smiling more since we ran into each other on Brightswords from what I can tell. I don’t see why he wouldn’t like you back,” Wyll said, and Tav could have kissed him for voicing it, because she'd thought it, wanted to believe it, but she was hardly in a position to give an unbiased opinion on the subject.

She bit her lip to keep from grinning like a loon. That sort of thing might have been okay when she was drunk, or in the privacy of her own home, but it was hardly acceptable behaviour on a Tuesday morning in the middle of the academy. That didn't mean her hand didn't tremble slightly as she fidgeted with a piece of her hair.

Wyll shook his head knowingly, but he offered no further comments after that. Just then, they heard footsteps approaching.

Tav’s breath caught in her throat.

Then she panicked. Here goes…

Both turned to see Gale entering the hallway, earlier than expected. Her heart skipped a beat, and whatever she’d planned to say escaped her mind given that her every thought was now preoccupied by the fact that Gale was only wearing a shirt, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

It was hardly indecent (unfortunately), but it certainly showed the shape of Gale’s defined arms and upper body. Tav ran her eyes along the length of them for several seconds.

She let her gaze trail up, watching the line of Gale's throat as he swallowed, not noticing them yet as he was reading a paper. His hair was more tousled than usual, a sign that he’d been running his fingers through it a lot more than usual.

Tav felt her mouth grow dry. She licked her lips even as she willed her arousal into submission. Gods, how she wanted to tug on those locks and kiss him senseless. Unlike Gale, Tav had never written poetry, had never even contemplated it, but she could write it now, entire verses on this look alone.

Silvanus, she really, really needed to practise more self-restraint before she’d undoubtedly end up throwing herself at him.

Their gazes met when Gale glanced up sharply to find the two of them standing directly by his office. Tav swallowed, her mouth going dry again, this time for an entirely different reason.

It was hardly the first time Tav had been caught looking at someone -- and by now Gale certainly knew that she was attracted to him -- but Tav still felt herself flush even as she raised her hand to wave awkwardly, an apologetic smile settling over her face. Wyll hid his laugh behind a poorly concealed cough.

She watched, butterflies swimming in her stomach, as a myriad of emotions crossed Gale’s face. Surprise was followed by genuine delight, then hesitation, and finally indecision -- though it was entirely possible Tav had imagined some of those.

She waited, holding her breath while he waged some internal war before making his decision. He tucked the paper he had been holding into his bag and closed the distance between him and where Tav and Wyll were standing.

"Hey," Gale said, cringing slightly like he'd meant to say something else. He glanced uncertainly in Wyll's direction.

"Hi," Tav said, undoubtedly sounding like a complete idiot. Wyll coughed again. Tav did her best to ignore him- which lasted just until Gale cast another glance in his direction, Tav kicking herself then. "Sorry, we were just discussing-"

“Tav and I were in conversation about Illusions practice, actually,” Wyll cut in for her.

It was a reasonable excuse, and had the benefit of explaining her presence in the department. She mentally congratulated Wyll on his quick thinking.

“Oh! Well, practising magic is always a commendable endeavour. The continuous honing of your skills is the true path to mastery," Gale said, giving an awkward nod of approval.

The topic seemed to be as far as anybody was willing to go, the three of them standing there, Gale shuffling awkwardly, and Tav tried desperately to think of something to keep him from darting off again. Fortunately Wyll, who'd always had such a good grasp of people and relationships, straightened his spine and looked at them with a pleasant smile.

"Well, I am going to go brew some much needed coffee. Can I get you anything, Gale?" he asked, nodding over his shoulder towards the kitchenette. Gale shook his head. 

Wyll turned to Tav. “A cup of Elven brew?”

"Yes, thank you," she said, mentally adding but take your time , wishing he could hear.

He was gone no more than ten seconds when Gale, after some awkward indecision, settled, seeming willing to abandon whatever his plans were in favour of talking with Tav. He stepped a little closer, so that he was no longer in the middle of the corridor, the action bringing him close enough that she could feel the heat coming off of his body.

No man, she decided, should smell as good as Gale did. The almost familiar scent of bergamot and old books and the sharp ozone smell of magic that clung to him almost made her regret her visit.

"You weren't in class on Thursday," Gale said, as though picking up an old conversation. He wasn't looking at Tav, but staring at his feet, the toe of his shoe moving.

She watched the movement for several seconds before realising she was meant to answer.

"I needed to take my flatmate to a healer," she lied -- and she hated doing it, she really did, but it was either that or say I couldn't bear to face you after you rejected me and why the Hells would you do that if you deliberately gave me a manuscript full of stories about your life?

It was probably too soon for that.

Gale, who was still impossibly tense, let his shoulders sag a little.

“I should also probably clarify what you saw yesterday -- or rather, who you saw. That was Halsin. He's a friend. Just a friend."

Now that got him to relax instantly. It was an incredible thing to witness, all of Gale's tension bleeding from him, his shoulders falling completely and even a slight smile began to tug at the corners of his mouth. His foot stopped moving.

"We're covering the Invisibility spell next week," he said. Tav smiled.

"Oh? I like that one. It’s actually part of what I learned from Wyll," she said, which seemed to be the wrong thing to say, because he stiffened again. Navigating the labyrinth of Gale's boundaries was proving far more difficult than she had imagined. It might have helped if she actually knew what those boundaries were. 

For now, she changed tactics.

"I liked your entry about it, too," she said, and that drew his attention, Gale glancing up sharply to meet her eyes.

"You've read through my manuscript?" he said, seeming surprised, though Tav could hardly imagine why. She didn’t think it was possible for him to stare at her any longer.

But that’s exactly what he did -- he stared at her with wide, intelligent brown eyes that quivered in wonderment. The slow loosening of his jaw, the doe-eyed blink, the gaze so disbelieving that it made him look young. Did he even have crow’s feet anymore? They melted off just as his question melted into thin air.

"Several times now," she confessed. "You write beautifully. I found the book a bit addictive if I’m honest." She paused, uncertain if she should go into specifics. Instead she settled on, "I can bring the binder to class this week, if you want, but I wouldn't mind keeping it for a bit longer, if you don't need it."

She didn't want to give up his writing. She wanted to keep it forever, to read it over and over until Gale finally made sense.

He shook his head with a... bashful? smile. "Keep it as long as you need," he said, sounding pleased.

Tav nodded, smiling softly at that. She decided to take a gamble.

"Can I ask you something?"

Something shifted in his gaze, but he nodded, holding himself incredibly still. She swallowed.

"What caused your injury?" It was probably far too personal a question, and she suspected she already knew the answer, but so much of Gale's writing, even his poetry spoke of loss -- enough that it was impossible for his injury not to be connected to who he’d lost.

He tensed up again in hesitation, as though debating whether or not to answer. Tav was about to backpedal, to tell him never mind, that it was none of her business; that she was sorry for having asked, when Gale glanced down and then spoke.

"The question should rather be who caused my injury. Someone I loved," he said even as he shrugged. "Or at least, thought I loved. Such was my skill that, from an early age, it attracted attention. One of my teachers sought to nurture that talent, or so I’d thought, and became my mentor, and later even my lover. She was someone I thought I had to prove myself worthy of. I was certain that the deed of unlocking the entrance to the Celestial Staircase together would do just that, but I was mistaken. It backfired and left me injured for over a year, and she cast me aside."

Tav’s breath caught at that. She now wholly understood the recurring themes of loss found throughout Gale's poems.

"I'm sorry," she said, because there was nothing else she could say.

Gale remained silent in response, but he didn't dart off again, and the tension around his eyes eased slightly, so Tav believed she had struck the right chord. He still looked more awkward than he had since he first decided to join her, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground, so she cleared her throat and offered, "I lost my parents shortly after I was born."

Gale glanced up at that, features shifting to something that she instantly recognised. Unlike sympathy (which had always been too close to pity for Tav's tastes), this was empathy. He didn't say anything, but the silence that spilled between them grew comfortable, conciliatory. "My father left us when I was five."

Afraid of ruining the moment, Tav very cautiously reached between them and placed a hand on Gale's arm.

There were other things she wanted to ask -- she wanted to know what the exact nature of his injury was; whether he was still in pain, and could she do anything to help alleviate it? She wanted to ask if Gale had written anything recently. She wanted to tell Gale specifics about his book; mention how adorable the younger version of him sounded. She wanted to thank him for not giving into the despair she'd read in his poetry collection. Did he even suspect she’d read his poems? 

She gently retracted her hand. “I read your poems,” she spurted out suddenly, words tumbling out of her lips. 

They were both silent, and then Gale blinked. His mouth fell open, voice already rising in a question, but Tav beat him to it. “The collection titled Echoes of M. It was in the library.”

His jaw tightened. Tav wondered if he was about to tell her off for good now, but instead of simmering anger she sensed another emotion. He swallowed wordlessly as his ears and cheeks began to glow a light shade of pink.

“That’s- that was one of my earliest works. I don’t know why they still have that garbage-“

“I’m sorry, I just felt like I had to tell you,” Tav finally blurted. Gale blinked at her, caught off-guard once more… and the edges of his eyes softened, crinkled into amused lines. He offered a small smile.

“It’s fine, really. I was just surprised,” followed by a sharp exhale. “And both flattered and mortified. To be honest, I’d be happier if you assured me that you hid that collection somewhere no one else would ever stumble upon it. Or destroyed it, even.”

“Oh, no one would suspect a little accident with the shelves collapsing, I think- but I could never,” Tav said as she crossed a hand over her heart. “Your secret is safe with me, I promise.”

He turned his face up and barked out a laugh. The sound was charming -- loud and boisterous, barely contained. It lasted for a mere two seconds, and yet it pierced Tav’s ears, wrapped her in its airiness.  He smiled without reservation as he looked back at her, mouth cracking up, and she was entranced, couldn’t look away from such a rare sight.

In the end, Gale let out a sigh and adjusted the papers in his hands. The grin on his face slowly faded, but a spark of amusement lingered in his eyes as he posed a question, "Do you write poetry?" 

Tav felt her cheeks flush, her mind briefly drifting to the countless odes she had wanted to compose about Gale's current appearance just moments ago. 

Gale, who was watching her closely now, seemed to misinterpret her reaction, offering a gentle smile as reassurance. "Cheeks flushed, gaze bright? There is no need to be embarrassed about your poems. I'm sure they would be nothing short of brilliant if written by you. Since you've explored my earlier works, may I have the pleasure of reading yours sometime?"

And what was there for Tav to do, save agree -- and then immediately begin panicking, because undoubtedly he meant sometime soon, and that gave her precariously little time to figure out how to write poetry, and then write it.

Still, Gale's pleased smile made the impending challenge seem worth it.

✧˚ · .

Gale was still grinning about that morning when he got home, pleasantly flushed from his walk. His conversation with Tav had been cut short by Wyll’s return with coffee and reminded Gale that he was probably dangerously close to stepping over his self-imposed line.

And this line, Gale had realised after his recent talk with Lae’zel, was one he ought to be proud for having set.

He was feeling... relieved was a good word. Part of that was the walk. It always helped to clear his head. Most of his good mood he suspected he owed to his chance meeting with Tav.

He'd thought he'd never see her again. He'd worried Tav would stop attending lectures. He hadn't expected to learn otherwise, nor had he expected them to slide so effortlessly back into sync. It was almost as if the universe had, in one morning, decided to make amends for pretty much the whole of Gale's life so far.

But it hadn't made his life any simpler, because she was still off limits (for the time being, at least) but at least Gale hadn't lost her completely, and if Lae’zel’s words were to be believed, he didn't need to harbour guilt for viewing Tav in a certain light. His feelings weren't a bad thing.

He started drawing a bath for himself, and he wondered how far that extended. Were there limits to what he was allowed to think? Or was Lae’zel right in suggesting the boundaries he set were his own, limited entirely by what he was comfortable with. Could he, say, fantasise about Tav -- something he'd done before, though only ever with a tremendous amount of guilt.

He stepped into the tub. In the case that he could, would he– should he– Oh, Gods have mercy. Gale covered his face with both hands and crouched at the far end of the tub. This was ridiculous. Even if it was to try and determine what exactly his feelings for Tav were, surely he should not have dared to consider trying to touch himself while thinking about her. 

Or… perhaps he could set parameters for that, too. Like maybe it was okay if he imagined himself younger, still a student. He wondered what it would have been like if Tav had met him instead of Mystra. Would she have been his first kiss? She would have undoubtedly been gentler than Mystra, who'd kissed him raw and made his lower lip bleed. The experience had not been pleasant. Gale had been too blinded by worship to question it.

With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and let himself think back to the conversation they had. He brought up the memory of that morning, of Tav laying her hand on his arm, the fleeting instance when her eyes had briefly flickered towards his lips, and goosebumps broke out across his skin despite the heat of the water. It was not an altogether unpleasant feeling. He swallowed and his throat clicked as he changed the memory; imagining a scenario where Tav's eyes held desire for him as a fellow student.

His breaths were growing shorter as the Gale in his fantasy -– as he would have leaned in too, meeting Tav for his first kiss. Tav’s lips would have moved against his own ever so gently, unlike Mystra. When the make-believe Tav cupped his face, he almost turned his cheek into it before remembering there was no one actually there beside himself. His skin tingled, wanting to know what it would have felt like to have Tav’s hands slide over it, pushing into his hair.

There was a rising tide swelling inside him, pushing at his insides as his imagination slipped into holding Tav close, of her laying on his chest after a long day of studies. He would have slowly run his left hand through her hair (it looked so soft), and over her shoulders, down the lines of her arms. They would have kissed, and the feel of it would have swept across Gale’s body in the kind of gentle touch that made his heart ache. He dropped his hand to press against his chest, trying to smother the feeling.

No matter what they would have been doing, Gale knew that Tav would have been gentle. Even while undressing each other, she would have covered every new inch of exposed skin with soft kisses that would have fluttered against his skin. She wouldn’t do anything without consent and he would never push past what they would both be comfortable with.

The cock in his hand was fully erect, the water’s warmth enveloping him like a lover. This was definitely not the best and Gale knew he was going to hate himself for this later -- more so than he already did. There was a war in his body and his will was losing to it. With a groan, he dropped his head back, not even realising that his fantasy had moved locations. 

They would have moved to his bed in the other room, and he would have kissed Tav back into the pillows while they slowly undressed one another. They would have held each other close, mouths together but not always kissing as they explored their bodies for the first time together. He would have experienced what her skin felt like under his fingertips, would have found out what spots made her laugh and which ones made her shiver.

A gasp caught in the back of his throat; his head falling back against the edge of the tub as he came. Of course this would turn out to be one of the best orgasms he’s ever had. It was almost immediately marred by the storm of guilt that clogged his lungs and made it hard to breathe. 

It was rare that he attempted this. Self-pleasure was a normal and common bodily activity, but not for him. His sexuality was too tied up in his history. He shook off the image of defiling Tav and removed his hand from his cock, reaching for his hair products instead.

It was probably for the best if he tried to forget about this as fast as possible; already the things he had thought about the girl seared through him, guilt coiling in his chest. He finished his bath quickly and tried to find the serenity seeing Tav had brought.

He found it on the pages of his notebook.

Writing had always been cathartic. He vented his rage for Mystra, reclaiming his earlier good mood in the process. Then he set about making a late dinner.

✧˚ · .

”Show me what you’ve got,” Wyll stepped back and gestured to her side where the ocean was softly lapping against the pier. Tav looked at the water, then back at him.

After her talk with Gale left her on a high that morning, she’d practically begged Wyll to practise with her. He’d simply chuckled at the determination in her voice and told Tav to meet him at the Sea Ward after classes were over. There was a pier near Karlach and Wyll's apartment that seemed to be rarely visited other than by, well, Karlach and Wyll. He’d told her it would be an ideal spot for practice, and for views.

She'd spent the bulk of the afternoon in the garden, obsessively re-reading the manuscript’s entry on the Invisibility spell. She fully intended to get her magic back on track by next class -- she would solidify her place in Gale's life, starting now.

After the week she’d had, it felt nice to enjoy a good mood. Tav’s steps had felt light as she made her way to the docks, and took her time crossing the Sea Ward. The tree leaves were beginning to cover the ground in a thick blanket, vibrant reds and oranges as far as the eye could see. She'd been too distracted by doing things to impress Gale, and then by Gale himself to really appreciate the foliage in Waterdeep until that afternoon. She took her time admiring it today.

The cooler weather, too, renewed her spirit, the scent of approaching winter carrying on the ocean wind that bit at her cheeks. Tav breathed deep, enjoying the burn of it against the back of her throat. Her research with Halsin was going well, her students were getting into a routine and for the first time in perhaps forever, her personal life seemed destined for good things too.

“Just… just go?” she questioned, and Wyll motioned again, this time with a sardonic ‘I dare you’ tilt to his grin. “What if- how would you even know If I fell in the water?” 

Wyll let out a snort. “I think I’d still be able to recognise a loud, Tav-sized splash in the water. You’ll be fine. Now, come on.” 

Tav took several steps forward and planted herself solidly on the pier. She extended her right hand in a loose, open gesture. She took a large breath in, and on the exhale attempted to mimic the precise hand movements Wyll demonstrated. Her movements were a bit clumsy, but eventually only a pale washed out shadow of her was left visible to the eye.

“Great work! You‘re far less visible than what a lot of people could manage from scratch. However, try to focus on your intention,” Wyll said simply, as if it were self-evident. With a graceful flick of his fingers, he vanished the next second.

A tap on her shoulder jolted Tav out of her translucent state. “Oh by Silvanus,” she felt nauseous, “how did you do that?” 

“You were trying to command the environment, I convinced it,” Wyll shrugged as he reappeared. “The trick to practising concealment is that you can’t fight the environment, you have to work with it.” 

“But that doesn’t tell me how to do it,” Tav said, frustration clear in her voice.

“Ah. Well, try to think of it as tending to one of your plants. You're not dictating how it should grow, but simply guiding it towards growth, right? Complete invisibility will naturally follow as a consequence.” 

Tav nodded, eyebrows furrowed as she let the spell leave the tip of her fingers again, turning much more transparent than she’d been before. Her hand, barely outlined, was now held open in a gesture akin to supplication. She turned to face Wyll, the delighted smile on his face infectious as she began smiling herself. 

Wyll took hold of her shoulder after she dropped the spell. “I knew we simply needed to coax it out of you. Is there anything else you'd like to work on? Because I don't see any other reason to keep you practising otherwise.”

“No, thank you, Wyll. I just need to decide on what kind of pie to bake when I get home,” Tav replied, giving his hand a friendly squeeze.

“Why do I have the suspicion you're planning to bake for Thursday's Illusions class… Trying to impress Gale with your culinary skills, are you?" He arched an eyebrow knowingly. 

A sheepish grin tugged at the corners of Tav’s lips. "Perhaps.”

“You can never go wrong with Shadowheart’s mum’s recipe. Apples, plums, with a hint of cinnamon… I’m getting hungry just thinking about it.” 

With a laugh, she replied, “Well in that case, I’ll make sure to save a slice for you on my way to class.”

Wyll placed a dramatic hand over his heart. "You're the most wonderful friend one could wish for. Now, tell me, do you have any special plans for this Friday?"

What was on Friday? She tilted her head in thought before she answered him. “Should I?”

“It’s Liar’s Night!” Wyll said with a hint of disbelief, as if it were atrocious that Tav was unaware. “Everyone and their mother has plans for the masquerade by now.” 

“Oh Gods, it’s the masquerade,” Tav muttered to herself. As she met Wyll’s gaze again the wiggle of his eyebrows were just punctuation and she hated it.

In that moment, a fleeting image crossed her mind -- giving Gale the slice of pie she was going to bake, following which she would propose they go together and perhaps grab a coffee beforehand. Gale would agree, and they could even get matching costumes-

But that wouldn’t work.

The memory of Gale's past reactions lingered in her mind; his abrupt departure at the mention of the Magic department’s anniversary, his refusal of a dinner invitation.

A simple shared evening with him might not unfold as smoothly as she had envisioned.

However, he didn’t seem opposed to talking to her at every chance meeting they had. Quite the opposite, actually, if his smiles during their conversations were anything to go by.

Tav decided she'd just have to make sure to bump into him more often, casually.

Chapter Text

Tav was considerably happier now that she was talking to Gale again, so much so that she wasn’t even overly bothered by having to put together her and Jaheira’s midterms. She was having a surprisingly good time, in fact, feeling like she was actually doing a good job teaching this semester while also keeping up with lessons in magic. 

One thing did bother her, however. She’d busied herself by reviewing some of the results from yesterday's research work -- there were some inconsistencies, which probably meant she and Halsin were going to need to re-plant some samples.

She had just spotted the problem when her hourglass indicated what she was baking was ready to be taken out.

As Tav carefully slid the apple and plum pie from the oven, the warm aroma of cinnamon and fruit filled the small kitchen. The golden crust glistened under the soft glow of candlelight, the sun not even up yet as she baked.

With meticulous care, she took the piping bag, which was plump with whipped cream, and applied the first layer of topping on the pie. She was hoping to finish decorating it before Shadowheart returned from her night out with Karlach and Astarion. Since she had worked late practising how to turn invisible for today’s lecture, she wanted to ensure what she baked was perfect.

She hoped Gale would like it. Even more, what weighed heavier on her mind was whether he could enjoy it at all. With the mystery surrounding his ailment, or rather curse, Tav was completely in the dark about what he could eat. She had never witnessed him consuming anything with apples or plums. Would he be able to savour her creation? 

The only dish she could vividly recall him eating was the peculiar fish dish Astarion had mentioned.

Wiping a thin line of perspiration off her forehead with the back of her hand, she attempted to pipe the topping into a decorative swirl like Shadowheart’s mum taught her.

Stepping back with a relieved sigh, she inspected the pie in front of her. It looked better and better each time she made it. The first time she had attempted this recipe alone may not have been the epitome of beauty, but it certainly hadn’t looked disastrous.

Tav had no idea if there had been an expert baker in her lineage before her, but she was resolute in her quest to master the art. There was just an irreplaceable joy in creating and working with her hands.

Sometimes, her impatience led her to taste each element individually as she worked and always felt moderately confident that she produced something edible. 

When she heard the front door open, her heart leapt and she was grateful she hadn’t been holding the pie or she might have dropped it. 

“Did you bake something?” Shadowheart called, her lips tugging up at the corner and she quickly crossed the room to meet Tav in the kitchen and greeted her with a hug.

Tav carefully lifted up the pie and displayed it for her with a grin. “I made your favourite.”

As Shadowheart dragged a finger through the whipped icing and popped it into her mouth, her grin widened. “Thank you so much! It’s going to be the best remedy for my impending hangover after I wake up.”

Replying with a soft noise of acknowledgement, Tav turned away from her and rummaged in the nearby drawers for two forks and a serving knife. “Hope you still have your appetite. What did you three do all night?”

“Liar’s Night Eve Eve,” Shadowheart replied as if that explained everything, and she reached into the cupboard to retrieve two small plates.

“Do I even want to know?”

“Everything was perfectly legal,” she assured her, watching as Tav cut into the cake, giving Shadowheart the section that had a path through the cream from her earlier tasting. “At least, they are in Waterdeep.”

Crinkling her nose, Tav placed a slice on each plate and set them on the table while Shadowheart pulled a teapot and a pair of teacups from the cupboard. She tossed in a generous amount of tea leaves before waving her hand over the teapot, wordlessly casting a charm to fill it with boiling water.

They each took a place at the small table and Shadowheart poked at the pie with the tines of her fork. “So, tell me about your day, what inspired you to be up so early baking again?”

Tav smiled shyly into her cup and set it down before replying, "I wasn't making it for myself." 

Shadowheart snorted. "Obviously." 

Tav's head shot up at that. 

"Please, you've worn that smile so many times now. That I–have–a–secret–crush smile. So how much pie are you planning to take to him?"

And of course she'd known she was baking it for Gale. Not that she had intended to start serial baking goods for Gale -- at least, not now.

“I plan to bring him a generous slice,” Tav said with a soft laugh.

Shadowheart swallowed a bite before saying, "He is going to absolutely love it, I’m sure of it.”

Their conversation meandered on, touching upon work and what midterm questions Tav came up with. However, Tav could see the weight of exhaustion settling in on Shadowheart’s face. The drinks she had indulged in earlier were finally starting to take their toll, it seemed. 

With a tired smile, she looked up at Tav. "As much as I'm enjoying this, I think it's time for me to get some rest. Thank you for baking. Good night- or perhaps good morning. Whichever it is, have a nice day."

Tav hugged her goodbye, then picked up the plates from the table and set them on the countertop with the rest of the dirty dishes. 

✧˚ · .

With the pie in hand, Tav made her way to the academy, the crisp morning air adding a touch of anticipation to her steps. Sometime this week a cold front moved in. She thought seriously about turning around and heading back in to grab a scarf, but it wasn't really that cold. It only felt it, the extreme shift in temperature making it feel colder than it actually was. 

Astarion had once accused her of being the most unyielding optimist he had ever met, and Tav couldn't deny the truth in that, because there were numerous ways things could still potentially go so very wrong, and yet, she chose not to focus on that. Instead, she made a deliberate choice to focus on the possibilities of things going right. A much more uplifting prospect that often resulted in a gentle smile tugging at the edges of her lips.

She was still smiling when she made it onto campus and approached the lecture hall.  

On impulse, she had decided to grab two mugs of coffee to accompany the pie from the Magic department's kitchenette. She was early enough that she would likely be the first to arrive to Karsus Hall, which would allow her to discreetly leave the coffee and a slice of pie on Gale's podium. She was confident he would recognise the gesture without the need for any public acknowledgment, sparing him any potential embarrassment in front of his entire class. 

What she wasn't expecting was to be the second to arrive in the classroom; even more unexpected was the sight of Gale already present, having arrived before her.

Tav stood at the threshold, staring at him as Gale returned her gaze. The soft purple hue of his shirt complemented his complexion perfectly. She watched, fascinated, as twin spots of pink bloomed on Gale's cheeks. After a moment of hesitation, he cast his eyes down, then shook his head before gathering his resolve and meeting her eyes once more. His expression was a mix of determination and nervousness. 

Summoning her most assured smile, Tav stepped into the room and came to stand at his side.

“Good morning. Always a delight to speak with you,” he said, looking for all the world like admitting as much had terrified him. 

Tav froze. There was no other way to process what Gale had said- he seemed genuinely pleased to see her. She took it as a victory, and for one delirious second imagined what it might be like to lean forward and press a kiss to the side of his mouth.

It was entirely possible she was spending far too much time fantasising about him.

"Black coffee, Amnian?" she asked instead, a little uncertain as she handed over the extra cup she’d been holding. Gale seemed startled, but he took the coffee from her hand.

"How did you know?" he asked.

And huh, Tav thought -- she really should have considered that. She suspected I made sure to check the cup you‘d left behind with your cue-cards might sound a little too insane.

"Just a... lucky guess," she tried.

Although Gale seemed a bit doubtful, he refrained from commenting and instead took a sip, his expression turning into an appreciative smile.

"Thank you so much." He hesitated, and then glanced at the door before settling his eyes back on her own cup, "What are you drinking?" 

Tav cocked her head, smile growing amused. "Elven Brew." 

She wondered briefly if this meant that Gale might reciprocate by bringing her coffees in the future. She let herself linger in the fantasy for several moments, images of him arriving at the garden with a cup of coffee in hand. She would absolutely parade him around the Natural Sciences department, all smug satisfaction and pride.

"Good choice," Gale said, like her hot beverage choice had the potential to be a sticking point.

She also handed him the sweet treat and with a soft voice, said, “I thought you might enjoy something sweet." 

Gale's fingers brushed against hers as he took the plate, and lingered for longer than it should have. His eyes searched her face for what felt like forever, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. Tav caught a fleeting glimpse of desire and restraint in his eyes, as if he was fighting an internal battle. He attempted to school his features into a polite smile, but the intensity in his gaze remained.

"This looks delicious. Thank you very much," he said, and took a small, deliberate bite of the pie. As he savoured the flavours, a look of genuine delight crossed his features. Tav’s eyes never left his lips, and the way he licked away the cream felt almost too erotic, making her mind run wild.  "I can’t wait to taste the rest of it."

"It's nothing. It was just sitting on the kitchen countertop. I figured someone ought to finish it before it turned bad." She took another sip of her coffee, shuffling from one foot to the other as she did.

Tav wanted to ask, but she wasn't entirely certain where to begin -- the same could be said for this conversation, because she hadn't really planned on running into Gale before class. She had all sorts of things to say about the spell they were going to cover; had made notes and everything, wanting to be sure to touch on the environmental factors of invisibility. She had an entire speech prepared, but nothing that could get her through the next five minutes without coming across as a complete and utter idiot.

Fortunately, it was Gale who broke the silence.

"I was thinking about you earlier," he said, though just as Tav’s eyebrows shot up, he backtracked. "I mean, I was wondering about your work."

Tav, who was still a little giddy over the thought of Gale thinking about her, immediately thought Gale was asking about her research- which was something no one, save Halsin, and sometimes perhaps Shadowheart, ever wanted to talk about. Rion had even once remarked that her and Jaheira's work was in one of the "most boring fields."

That thought stopped her before she could begin rambling on about plants and evolution. It occurred to her then that Gale was probably talking about poems, like when they had spoken previously. She coloured, embarrassed by her mistake. The last thing she wanted to do was scare Gale off by talking about plant alkaloids.

"I suppose it's mostly about nature," she said, which was probably as good an approximation as she was going to get. He smiled broadly at that.

"Would that have any correlation as to why you always prefer to wear various shades of green?" he asked playfully. 

Tav nearly choked on her coffee. He had not only noticed what she was wearing but had also picked up on the fact that green seemed to be her signature colour?

When Tav took too long to answer, Gale’s gaze shifted briefly to the door before returning to her, his expression indecisive. "Do you write in anything?" he inquired.

It took her several seconds to figure out what Gale was talking about -- remembering then the notebook she'd seen on his desk two weeks prior. She shook her head.

"Mostly on scattered notes," she said, because that was sort of true. Certainly she often jotted down her botanical research on any available piece of paper.

This wasn't the first time she had lied to a potential partner; she was used to improvising details as needed. It was, however, the first time she'd felt guilty about it. She knew that she might not be the most captivating person on the Sword Coast, especially compared to someone like Gale, but perhaps for the first time, she wished for some to genuinely understand her, to know the real her. 

She was about to tell him exactly that -- admitting that she didn't write poetry, but instead had some publications in the field of Natural Sciences now; that her most remarkable magical feat was simply using a heat charm to boil water, and that given the choice, she would spend most of her free time secluded in the greenhouse.

At least, when she wasn't distracted by attractive illusions professors, that was.

Unfortunately this was exactly when voices drifted in through the open door. Gale, who had relaxed considerably since receiving Tav’s gifts, came instantly to attention. He smiled, almost apologetically, Tav taking that as her hint to wrap up their conversation.

"You know, I was wondering if you have to attend the Liar’s Night event tomorrow, being part of the faculty and all," she remarked, making a vague gesture with her free hand.

“...Yes, I suppose I’ll have to," Gale said after a moment, tone even, despite the sudden colour dusting his cheeks. “To be quite honest, I'm mostly curious to see if it lives up to the excitement. I've often had to remind my seminar students to focus on the material rather than agonising over their dress choices or who they might ask to the masquerade.” 

Tav chuckled. “In that case, I hope it exceeds your expectations," she replied warmly, and just as students started to filter in through the door, flashed one last smile at him before taking her seat.

It took the better part of twenty minutes for her to regain her composure. It wasn't until around the thirty-minute mark that she began dominating the discussion. When she did, she earned the full of Gale’s attention, the man simply beaming at her.

The rest of the class went by in a similar manner. Tav suspected that the other students could have slipped out the door, leaving only her and Gale behind, without Gale even noticing. He was so engrossed in his lecture, so caught up in her participation, gesturing energetically and exuding enthusiasm, that it seemed nothing could divert his attention.

She rather understood Gale's intense focus, although her captivation wasn't solely due to the lecture topic at that moment. Gale was beautiful when he lectured.

She supposed that was probably why no one in the class took advantage of his distraction to leave early.

As she was gathering her now-empty coffee mug, she couldn't help but overhear the conversation going on behind her. The voices belonged to Alfira and Lakrissa, her former students. It took a moment for Tav to realise they were discussing her; they seemed to believe their hushed conversation was discreet enough to escape her attention.

Tav struggled to stifle a smile, her lips tightening to prevent bursting into laughter. They were debating, quite seriously, whether Professor Dekarios and she were being overly familiar.

Not yet, she had the urge to turn around and inform them, but such a remark would hardly be appropriate. Instead, she casually glanced over her shoulder, making eye contact with Alfira -- whose eyes had turned into saucers -- and winked. 

✧˚ · .

“Professor Dekarios? Did you hear me?” Ms. Silverhand’s voice shattered his thoughts like a hammer thrown to a wall of glass.

Gale blinked, meeting his colleague’s inquisitive hazel eyes, her lips pursed. 

“I apologise; I was up late grading papers and didn’t rest well. Can you repeat your question?”

It wasn’t a lie… not really. After concluding his lecture, Gale did proceed to finish grading the week's assignments, but his mind had been elsewhere. His thoughts had kept him busy, turning over conjured images of the outcomes of seeing Tav at the ball. The Gods knew even the thought of her in a dress had caused him to blush profusely during their conversation.

Even now, the thought of the girl brought a soft smile to his face. He thought back to the pie and coffee she brought him; to his initial panic, and then the quiet acceptance that he could speak with her outside of class without it becoming his nightmare.

He'd panicked again after, though only for a little while. He'd been so caught up in the moment that, at the time, it hadn't felt like he'd crossed a line, but later he'd considered that maybe he had -- that maybe he was justifying what had been, in hindsight, far too intimate given their respective positions. 

But he had told Tav point blank that they couldn't be together. Gale considered the possibility that the pie she had given him was merely a peace offering, an attempt to ensure there was no animosity between them. If that was the case, then he hadn’t crossed a line, and had no reason to feel guilty for a chance meeting early to class and a shared coffee.

“I asked, Professor Dekarios, do you have a mask?” Silverhand repeated, lacing her fingers together.

Tonight was the Liar’s Night masquerade, the second event the academy had hosted in the semester, and the other professors had been meeting for the past week to prepare. Most of the faculty enjoyed these events, even looked forward to it, but he found the extensive social interaction overwhelming, ever since his seclusion in the tower. As the evening would progress, his social energy would always wane, causing him to shed the charismatic facade he initially wore. Eventually, he would retreat to the periphery of the hall, nursing a drink and engaging in awkward small talk with select guests, waiting for it all to be over as he watched the students laugh and twirl like they didn’t have a care in the world. All in all, not something he found very appealing.

He saw the appeal, objectively. If he’d been younger, he supposed, and not for Mystra, he might have enjoyed such an evening too. But his dancing days were long behind him, and so he’d resigned himself to the fact that the annual academy events were just something he had to get through.

Gale absentmindedly searched for his mask as his hand brushed against the familiar texture of it. "Ah, it's here," he exclaimed softly, pulling out the intricately designed mask and holding it up for Ms. Silverhand to see.

It was designed to look like it was carved from marble, with blue-purple detailing representing the Weave. Tara had reassured him that it complemented his navy blue suit perfectly.

Ms. Silverhand nodded once before turning a bit more serious. “You will be stationed by the refreshment table; we must ensure that no students decide to alter the punch. I would prefer to avoid having a repeat performance of belligerent apprentices stumbling through the halls from last year.”

Gale coughed, trying to disguise his mirth as nothing more than him clearing his throat, and nodded. “I understand.” 

She kept his gaze for a moment longer before nodding her head at him in dismissal. Gale darted his eyes, glancing around the hall which was already bustling, decorated with draped velvet and levitating globes of golden candlelights everywhere, a string quartet playing. Only a few hours to go, he supposed.

He slowly went over to the drinks table. His chest was aching with a dull throb; it had been especially cold the last few days, something that always made it worse. He’d taken his medication earlier and probably should not have been consuming alcohol on top of it, but without at least one drink he was sure he would not be able to make it through the evening, so he reached for one, taking a sip immediately. 

Gale craned his neck to look for some of the other lecturers, ignoring the lingering glances some of the pubescent students were throwing him. He saw Professor Volo from the Performing Arts Department in a slightly worn suit, talking to a woman dressed in a lovely dark green dress, and Dammon was dancing with a woman he assumed was his guest, both of them beaming as they spun through some rather impressive turns.

He then turned back to watch the late students filter in, their laughter and chatter filling the air. Gale couldn't help but notice a pattern in the stark contrast of how the students approached dressing up for the event.

On one end of the spectrum, there were the students who had put minimal effort into how they dressed, opting for simple masks or half-hearted attempts at elegance. But on the other end there were those students who had gone all out with their costumes, embracing the spirit of the masquerade with gusto. Their enthusiasm was at the very least amusing and made the night more bearable to watch as they twirled and danced with a sense of theatricality.

There was another saving grace to being here, and it came in the form of wondering what Tav would dress as, and how she would react to seeing his choice of attire. Speaking of, where was the girl? Gale turned his head, continuing to scan the crowd as the song changed.

He spotted her hair over his shoulder before he saw her face. It took him a moment to process her costume of choice once the person covering her view moved. Tav had done something to her hair to make it extra voluminous, the tresses dancing with each tilt of her head. She was wearing a honey-coloured mask with delicate, artful engravings that evoked the likeness of an owlbear, and her dress was made from deep red satin with golden details, long-sleeved but with a much lower cut than what many of the students wore, tight around the waist, below which it flared out in a gently flowing skirt.

She was… well, there was really no other way to say it. She was beautiful. 

Gale’s throat was suddenly dry. His eyes lingered on the almost scandalously low neckline of her dress, on the golden pendant around her neck, and some primal part of himself whispered mine. Her lips were painted to match the dress, and he wanted nothing more than to go to her, pull her aside and to kiss them, wanted to tear the dress off her, wanted to run his hands through her hair, to see it spread across his pillow, wanted to… 

No. No. Stop.

He forced himself to clear his throat, to drag his gaze away from the object of his desires and look somewhere else, anywhere else, but Gale felt like he was drawn back by some intangible force to look at her face, and it was only then that her eyes collided with his across the hall, and Gale felt a coil tighten in his stomach.

He went to side-step from where he currently stood behind the refreshment bar, making his way towards the dance floor. He was magnetised by her, unable to resist her tempting allure. It was as if the two of them had fallen under a trance -- his only thought was closer. He didn’t miss the way Tav’s eyes darkened when her view of Gale was no longer obstructed. He didn’t shy away from her stare this time. He let her look.

He was almost to the dance floor when he noticed Professor Ravenga- Wyll whisper something in her ear that made Tav smile -- her eyes dropping to her feet, breaking the spell that overtook them. 

It felt like Gale had been doused in water, the fire fuelling his every step suddenly extinguished by the sight. What had he been doing?

He was paralysed, standing awkwardly to the side of the hall watching as Wyll led his friend to the dance floor. The coil that had tightened in him uncurled as the other professor made Tav laugh as the two swayed to the music, reminding him once more that he was the outsider here.

She did not look back at him.

✧˚ · .

Gale tried not to watch the girl all evening, he really did. But somehow his gaze seemed to be glued to her -– being spun around by others, laughing with the students, the room made brighter by her presence, a single thought pulsing through his mind over and over.

She is not mine. She is not mine. She is not mine. 

“How are you feeling, Gale?” The voice came from behind, pulling him from his melancholy. He turned to see Wyll Ravengard staring at him, a– knowing? smirk on his face.

“Wyll,” Gale nodded in greeting before he shrugged. “The decorations are fine, and the drinks are pleasant enough to get me through the evening. I hope you are enjoying yourself more than I can.” 

It was Wyll’s turn to shrug. “I’m doing alright. But, it would’ve been better if Karlach could have made it.”

Karlach –- the fiery tiefling woman in Wyll’s company on Brightswords, he recalled. “Based on when I last saw her, I think she would have found your choice in outfit quite amusing.”

Wyll’s laugh was loud, his confidence a natural thing. On the top of his head were black horns, and in one hand rested a devil’s pitchfork. The ribbon holding his horned mask blended in with his hair perfectly, giving the illusion that that mask was held on by magic. Completing his ensemble was a crimson suit. Gale couldn't deny the professor's attractiveness, and if it weren’t for Tav occupying his every thought, he could see how a man like Wyll Ravengard would easily capture the admiration of many. Regardless, Gale found himself laughing along with him. 

Wyll seemed to contemplate his next words as their laughter died. “Do you… uhm. I wanted to ask, is something troubling you?” 

Ah, there it was. “Don’t do that, please.” he said, hating how much this sounded like a plea. I just want to be normal for one night, Gale thought desperately. “Supervising academy events isn't particularly thrilling; but I’ll manage, there's no need for pity. It was kind of you to ask, however.”

Wyll looked at him with an odd expression he could not read, something in his eyes eventually settling. “Okay,” he voiced. “Might I take you for a spin at least? I do enjoy being in the company of beautiful things.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I'm quite clumsy, so I'm not sure I'd be a great dance partner. Besides, I saw you on the dance floor earlier, and I definitely couldn't keep up with you. I've heard Volo's quite the dancer, you could ask him."

Wyll tapped a finger on his chin. “I think Tav may be taking a break, but I would be happy to fetch her to dance with you if you are interested?” He wiggled his eyebrows at him suggestively, and Gale felt nauseous at the notion. What was it with everyone trying to match him?

"I believe I'll just continue keeping watch here, but thank you for the offer."

Wyll patted him on the shoulder as he passed him. “Alright, alright. Do take it easy on the punch, yeah?” 

He chuckled in response -- Ms. Silverhand none the wiser that he had failed in his duty to prevent the drink from being altered.

With a glass of said punch in one hand, Gale resumed his position by the refreshment table. He watched as couples danced and laughed around the room; even his colleagues forced to chaperone seemed to be enjoying themselves. He didn’t allow his mind to linger on what had happened earlier, not anymore, but instead let his eyes roam. He watched as a girl was manoeuvring her way towards Rolan, one of his own students. Her green mini dress gleamed with each move, and Gale nearly laughed when a guest he recognised as Raphael, with the reputation of being a skirt chaser, tried to intersect her path. He wished he could change his shape into a cat, like the druids, just to hear whatever retort the girl said as Raphael’s face fell, anger briefly flickering across his features as the girl shoved past him. 

Gale shook his head, young love… not that he was necessarily in a better predicament. 

His gaze would track around the room like that for a while, until it would eventually make its way back to her. He watched as she was having drinks with another girl by the quartet, and–

It was too late. Raphael stood in front of them now, and looking at Tav in a way that made even his skin crawl without knowing what the man's intentions were. Gale was making his way over there without so much as a thought, without hesitation.

When Tav noticed him approaching, he saw the relief, the silent plea in her eyes. She needed an out, something to get her away from Raphael, and Gale pasted something on his face that he hoped was a neutral, non-murderous expression. 

“...unfortunately, I’ve already promised my next dance to Professor Dekarios here,” he heard her conclude the excuse as he reached them. The emphasis on his title was strange; was this man so disagreeable that he needed a reminder of Gale's faculty status?

"Yes. I've been looking for you, actually. I'm sure Raphael won’t mind if I steal you away?” His voice was low, lethal. 

Raphael looked like he very much minded, but could do nothing but give a jerky, begrudging nod. “Not at all.” he said tightly. “I will find you later.”

Gale would make sure that he wouldn’t, and was intending to do his very best to prevent him from talking to any more female guests, but of course he didn’t say that. Instead, he stepped closer to Tav, offered her his arm. She took it, a flash of gratefulness crossing her face, and he led her slowly away, leaving Raphael looking thoroughly pissed off behind them.

She spoke as soon as they were out of the man’s earshot. “Thank you,” she whispered, relief buoying her steps. “I'm not sure how much longer I could have endured.”

“I'm glad I could help. Though, I should mention I’m not… much of a dancer,” he said in a low voice, trying not to step on her feet. “If you want an actual dance, you’re probably better off dancing with others.”

She snorted. “No matter how terrible you believe you are, nothing could be worse than dancing with Raphael.” she said. “Besides, this is a slow song. We can simply sway in place.”

Gale was still rather unconvinced, shame or frustration or both eating away at him, but after a moment he let out a breath. “Fine,” he settled on saying. It’s not like he was actually dancing with his student. He was just acting out of courtesy.

Leading her onto the dancefloor was a special kind of torture. She was so close, too close; she let him put one hand on her waist, the other taking hers as she put one hand on his shoulder, and he could feel the warmth of her body through the flimsy, water-smooth fabric of her dress when he put his hand on her waist. This close he realised for the first time how intoxicating she was; her sweet scent was everywhere, not overwhelming like Mystra’s but comforting somehow, a mixture of pine and… cardamom? Yes, definitely cardamom. It was one of his favourite spices to cook with, and, of course, in tea, it was simply heavenly.

He wished he’d had time to drink more, because he was entirely too sober for this, too sober to think about anything but how badly he wanted to pull her to him and kiss her. 

Tav began moving them haltingly through the steps of a slow waltz, Gale trying to focus on where he was placing his feet instead of his increasingly inappropriate thoughts. It didn’t work, not really. Tav had her chin tipped up to look at him, her eyes behind the mask reflecting the soft candlelight above them, and the words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Wyll was right, by the way.”

She blinked, visibly taken aback. “About what?” she asked. “He is right frequently, I’m afraid, you’re going to have to elaborate.”

He could not help but smile. “About dancing,” he clarified. He was quite convinced that his colleague would have shared the information with her, knowing that he did not want to dance.  “I did want to dance with you. You looked amazing on the dance floor.” 

A flush rose in her cheeks, and not for the first time, Gale had to tamp down the thought of wanting to kiss her with some effort. “I… thank you,” she said, sounding slightly breathy. “You know, you’re not bad yourself. I think we cut a pretty good figure.”

Gale didn’t quite know what to say to that, so he simply kept slowly spinning her, hoping that she didn’t notice him struggling whenever he strained his chest too much. Then, however, Raphael rose to the surface of his mind, unbidden. It stood to reason that he had tried more than just dancing with her, that he’d pushed her limits when she had not had the excuse of having promised the dance to someone else.

The idea ignited a mix of emotions in his chest, resembling anger and jealousy, prompting him to speak unintentionally. "Did he... did Raphael do something to you?"

Tav exhaled softly. "No, he didn't," she replied. "Just leered and attempted what I think is his way of ‘flirting.’ Trust me, if he laid a hand on me, I wouldn't hesitate to defend myself."

He wasn’t sure if the relief he felt was for her sake or his own. “Good,” he said simply.

She did not say anything further, maintaining eye contact with him as they finished the dance in silence. When the music ended, he suddenly realised there were only bare inches between their faces, and he quickly stepped back, seeking to establish a more appropriate space between them, clinging to the notion of a teacher dancing with a student out of courtesy.

This had been a bad, bad idea. It had been easy to ignore during the dance, when there had been so many other things to focus on -- her scent, the feel of her hand in his, the way she looked in that dress, to name a few -- but now his chest protested with a stab of pain, and he clutched at his chest as he winced, causing Tav to reach out, lightning-fast, steadying him. “Are you alright?” she asked, looking alarmed.

“Fine,” he pressed out between clenched teeth, feeling hot with shame and trying not to hold onto her hand too hard. “Let’s just… let’s get a drink.”

He held onto her hand as they made their way to the refreshments table, but let go of it as soon as he could, instead steadying himself against the wall. Tav, however, hovered, worry still written in every line of her face, and he hated it. 

I want to be whole, he thought. I want her not to look at me with pity.

They got two new glasses of punch and sat down at one of the empty tables, drinking in silence for several minutes as they watched the students and some of the other teachers dancing. He sipped his drink and tried to focus on breathing, tried not to think about Tav next to him, about how much he wished he was different, things were different. If only he was ten years younger, if only he hadn’t gotten mixed up with Mystra… 

 “…bad dancer.”

He looked up at her as he heard Tav start talking again, and it was only then that he realised she was expecting him to say something. “Dancer?” he echoed blankly.

“I said you should give yourself more credit- you’re really not a bad dancer.” And it made him feel like he’d hung every star in the night sky.

“That’s very kind of you to say, but you don’t have to lie to make me feel better,” he said, and added, “anyone would be a better partner than me.”

And then, under the table, Tav’s hand closed around his, radiating warmth and tenderness, while she gazed at him, her smile so enchanting that it left him speechless. "I have no desire to dance with anyone else," she whispered softly. "I liked dancing with you."

Gale’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. For a moment that felt like an eternity they simply looked at each other, her eyes boring into his own, her hand still wrapped around his under the table. Something hung in the air between them that neither of them would say aloud, and he was on the verge of saying something, on the verge of moving, of…

“Tav, there you are!”

Just like that, the moment was over. Gale gently pulled his hand away and tried to catch his breath, tried to pretend he hadn’t just been about to do something he would never have been able to take back. He saw a flash of hurt cross Tav’s face as he looked up, but just as soon, it disappeared, and he turned to look at the girl disrupting them, who looked slightly sheepish. “Sorry if I am interrupting anythi-”

“This is my friend Shadowheart,” Tav cut her off, voice carefully even, betraying nothing of her emotions. She turned to her friend. “Where have you been off to, anyway?”

“Oh, just helping Wyll bring in some more crates of ale,” Shadowheart said, shifting her weight awkwardly. “He’s done now, though. Do you want to come dance?”

The last thing he heard was Tav’s reply: “Why not, yeah. Let’s go dance.”

There was a great hollowness in his chest, some curious sense of bereavement, even as he tried his best to paste a neutral expression on his face, tried to pretend that whatever had just happened between them hadn’t happened. You’re in trouble, said the voice at the back of his mind. You’re in so much trouble, you pitiful old soul.

Chapter Text

By Silvanus, what was shining with the power of a thousand suns right next to her bed? Tav groaned and rolled from her stomach onto her side, almost hoping it was Shadowheart playing a prank on her. Judging by the lack of a reaction to her displeasure, however, she was not in fact in Tav's room and that was very distressing.

Could the light just be from the sun? Tav couldn’t remember the last time she went to sleep without drawing her curtains -- actually, scratch that. She couldn’t remember much of anything through the mild headache that was throbbing in her temples at the moment.

She cracked an eye open to check the window, but regretted it immediately. She’d had worse headaches, but the harsh light in combination with the absolutely disgusting throbbing in her temples and the fact that she apparently slept in her dress, was tripping her up more than usual. All she could manage to do was a grunt and slow blink.

With a degree of effort Tav would have rather not thought about, she levered herself out of bed, stopping with her feet hanging off the mattress while she tried to decide if this morning called for a bucket and pain relief potions. She hadn't been that drunk in ages -- not since she'd been hired by the academy as Jaheira's teaching assistant, no small thanks to her. She'd woken up the next morning on the docks, on an uncomfortable bench beside some dwarf who'd grunted and then promptly thrown up over the side of the canal. It marked the last time after she’d left Baldur's Gate that she swore off her “old life” for good.

Her stomach seemed to be settling, so Tav stood, swaying against a brief wave of light-headedness as she made her way to the small kitchen of their flat. She lost her fight against gravity shortly after, collapsed on a chair and put her head in her hands. Obviously moving had been a really, really bad idea.

Tav sighed and rubbed one of the hands over her face; pushing it up into her hair. Though the headache didn’t help, she pushed herself to remember what had happened. The fog that followed her after sleeping lifted too slowly, but the memories flooded back and she quickly found herself wishing that they had stayed away.

A blush burned through her cheeks as she remembered dancing with Gale at the ball. She covered her face as she remembered holding his hand and not wanting to let go, all while she'd been more than a little drunk and had wanted nothing more than to fall to her knees and offer to suck Gale's cock. With a groan, she lived last night in reverse and her memories hid nothing from her. Tav's urge to crawl under her bed and never come out grew ever higher as she remembered dancing rather closely with Gale to escape Raphael; and made a choked noise as she remembered saying that she didn’t want to dance with anyone else but him, while the man had looked like whatever moment had just passed between them had not happened at all.

Could she be any more ridiculous? Please, oh Hells, don’t let Shadowheart have actually heard that. If she did, Tav was never going to be able to live it down. This was the worst. This was the absolute worst.

In any case, she had been– it had been– she dropped her arms to hug herself, squeezing tightly around her middle because her body remembered. It remembered what it was like to have Gale pressed up against her. Her hands tingled with the faint memory of his fingers curled around them. If she concentrated hard enough, she could even feel Gale’s breath on her cheek while they were dancing, close, almost close enough to kiss...

Tav wondered what had caused Gale to withdraw while holding her hand, however. Last night had given Tav a taste of what could be. The hot and cold with Gale was driving her just a little bit crazy.

One night she thought she was making headway, and then the next she was told she was not. And the hardest part was trying not to let it consume her whole life like this sort of drama usually did. She had already been through the obsessive episodes with Rion and all of that was supposed to be behind her.

Could it be that he was simply shy? If so, she would find it perfectly understandable, and it would explain his reluctance to display affection openly in front of others. Perhaps he had believed they were in a private enough setting for hand-holding until Shadowheart interrupted them.

With a groan, she pushed herself up from the table as the only thing that would keep her from falling asleep was caffeine. She still felt like shit as she brewed up a half pot of tea. It wouldn’t taste even half as good as her usual coffee, but the aches of the past decided to resurrect themselves in her joints that morning. Tav made a mental note to ask Jaheira for more joint ointment on Monday since they had run out. Even if the tea tasted horrible, it was definitely better than nothing and would get the job done. 

Just after she’d sat down to finish her tea, across the room, there was a knock on the door.

It was probably Shadowheart, though she had left Blackstaff earlier than Tav and Wyll did to have time to go the market like she did every Saturday morning -- the only other person she thought it could be was Wyll, coming by to pick up something he might’ve left behind last night while walking her to their apartment to make sure she'd gotten home safe. In both cases, they knew the location of the spare key in the vase to the left of the door, so Tav didn’Ít particularly feel bothered to get up.

Fully intending to ignore the knocking, it suddenly occurred to her that it might be Gale on the other side.

Though how he would have found out where she lived was something that probably should have, but didn't, occur to Tav.

She shot up, faster than was wise, and dove across the room, finding the handle with some difficulty and opening the door. She cursed when she spotted Shadowheart behind two sacks of provisions from the market.

"I was hoping you were Gale," she said in lieu of hello.

Shadowheart attempted to hoist one sack a bit higher, hiding her face from view, but Tav could see her confused frown even from there. "How would Gale even know where you lived?" she asked, sounding more than a little suspicious.

"I honestly have no idea," Tav admitted. She sat down heavily on the soda.

It had occurred to her last night, after Shadowheart had whisked her away, that she likely needed to get started on writing poems. She wanted more chances of seeing him in a non-academic setting. Seeing him at his lectures was a good routine to meet each other every week, but she wanted to know him beyond his magic. Poetry was one such chance to get to know Gale outside of a classroom setting.

She was particularly looking forward to letting him whisper verses into her ear.

However, Tav really didn't know the first thing about writing poetry. Inspiration, she suspected, was what she needed, so her eyes then began a circuit of the apartment.

They didn't own much -- beds in their respective bedrooms, a couple of dressers, which were a necessity in a space with only one closet. A bookshelf from Shadowheart’s parents, filled to capacity, and the sofa, also a donation.

The kitchen was just as sparse, just enough kitchen utensils to make a meal for two, and the produce Shadowheart was busy packing into the cupboards. Their dishes were also second hand. 

She kept few personal effects -- save those she’d gotten since moving to Waterdeep. The ones she did have she kept in the bottom drawer of her main dresser. There were a few drawings, captured moments of herself, sometimes alongside a former interest. She'd had few friends growing up -- although it might have been more accurate to say she'd had no friends growing up -- and only a handful of mementos from Baldur’s Gate. They sat nestled inside an old tea box, though Tav kept meaning to transfer them into a journal. And, of course, there were Gale's lecture notes.

The drawer was also where she was now keeping Gale’s manuscript. If she was lucky, he would never, ever ask for it back, and it would make its way into Tav's permanent collection.

This was doing absolutely nothing to inspire poetry, however. 

In fact, the only thing it was inspiring was the urge to nag Shadowheart about this -- she had always been the more creative one out of the two of them, so Tav focused on doing exactly that.

"He’s interested in my work," Tav said as she sidled up next to Shadowheart, picking up two apples from the bag on the left and stocking them away in a cupboard.

It didn’t appear to look like news to Shadowheart. “That’s good. Would be a bit odd if he wasn’t."

She obviously didn’t understand.  “In my poetry work.”

There was a long pause, during which Tav contemplated the apples she was putting away. They were due for a wash.

When Shadowheart spoke again, it was with cautious trepidation, "But you don't write poetry." 

And of course Tav knew that. That was the whole point. 

"I know," she said. Shadowheart started rubbing at the back of her neck, forehead furrowed as she tried to work out what Tav was driving at. She took pity on her. "I told him I wrote poetry, because he asked if I did, and then it just came out, and now I’m left with trying to figure out how to write poetry, except, I don't write poetry."

There was a long moment of silence, in which Tav thought she was going to have to start from scratch and explain this all over again. Finally Shadowheart coughed.

"So you can either tell him you lied, that you're sorry, or you can simply hope he never brings the subject up again."

"Do you think that'll work?" Tav asked.

Shadowheart groaned. "I meant you should do the first, because the second is idiotic. How do you get yourself into these messes? Really, Tav. Could you, for once, just try to be normal?"

Tav was fairly certain they both knew the answer to that, but she apologised all the same, and let Shadowheart continue packing. She went back to her room, and for a long time after that she merely sat in the middle of the bed, alternating between staring at the ceiling and at Gale’s manuscript. She needed a second opinion... 

✧˚ · .

Gale wasn't particularly fond of mornings, but he wasn't entirely opposed to them either. He was likely one of the few individuals who could genuinely claim to be neutral on the matter. Typically, he woke a little after sunrise, got out of bed without making much of a fuss, and made his way to the kitchen to brew some coffee, mumbling Ignis as he did so. He liked coffee.

Mystra had not.

Gale wasn't sure what Tav’s preference was, but he hoped that she liked coffee.

This morning, however, he found himself waking later than usual, judging by the sun's position, so he opted to linger in bed.

Gale never lingered.

It felt... pleasant, he thought, stretching against the sheets, wiggling his toes, his muscles pleasantly sore from the previous night's dancing and the walk home. After Tav had left with her friend -- Shadowheart, if he recalled correctly -- he watched from his seat as Tav danced with her, then with Wyll, then with the large friend of hers he'd seen at the Dragon, and even with some other members of the faculty. He had indulged in more of the spiked punch than he probably should have, doing anything not to think about Tav. Yet, he couldn't tear his gaze away from her.

By the time the ball came to an end, he had managed to bury his feelings deep down where they usually resided and was actually having a decent evening, successfully pushing aside earlier events. Whatever had shifted between them during Liar’s Night, Gale was determined to act as if it had never occurred. He felt uneasy about seeing Tav again, worried she might bring up what had happened or demand an explanation he wouldn't be able to give. However, he reasoned that she would understand he had only danced with her to help her escape an uncomfortable situation. He hoped she would come to the same conclusion and that at their next lecture she would greet him with understanding, coming to the same decision to practice ignorance. He sighed.

Nothing has to change, he told himself vehemently. Yesterday was a lapse in judgement. Things will be fine if we pretend it never happened.

But at the same time, that was the last thing he wanted to do.

If only he were still a student… 

The tower was still quiet, which meant Tara was still asleep -- or out chasing pigeons -- so Gale stretched again, this time bringing his hands over his head. He rarely allowed himself these luxuries, but yesterday had been so pleasant -- until he had to ruin it -- that he wanted to chase that feeling as long as it lasted.

He couldn't get that smile out of his head, couldn't stop thinking about the way she had brushed against his chest, or how her playful comments could easily be interpreted as flirting, if he allowed himself that forbidden thought.

He brought a hand to his mouth and ran his fingers over his lips. He supposed he could explore the sensation of arousal on his own terms, if he focused solely on the feeling of it, rather than any particular fantasy. With a bit of luck, he would be able to separate his needs from his thoughts. He could touch himself without thinking about Tav. Hopefully .

Raising his hands above his head had lifted his undershirt, so that his sheets scratched against the bare skin of his back. 

He approached the feeling cautiously, let his legs splay, just a little, his limbs loose from a night of slumber, and drifted one hand down and another up. He reached the line of his groin with one hand just as the other brushed against his chest.

He paused long enough to pull his shirt over his head, pushing the sheets down so that they pooled around his hips, and then did his best to clear his head. He concentrated only on the sensation of his hands, trying to stay in the moment and not delve into fantasy. He ran his fingers across his low belly, skirting the edge of the sheet. His skin erupted in goosebumps. Gale shivered, and then licked at his lips. So far, so good.

He avoided touching his cock directly, instead threading his fingers through his pubic hairs, running feather-light touches across the insides of his thighs and the creases of his legs. Mystra had never taken to touching him so gently. It seemed that -- as in many things -- they had never truly matched in the first place. Certainly even her caresses were weighted by intent.

Gale wasn't entirely certain how he'd allowed Mystra to creep into his thoughts, so he banished her to a dark corner of his mind before her presence could derail this entire experiment. He was half expecting it to be too late, but his interest didn't seem to wane, so Gale wrapped his fingers around himself again.

And that was good. It was very good, Gale thought. He could feel pressure building, some of his earlier caution dissipating as he gave himself over to the sensation. He ran his fingers down his length, then back up again, tracing absent patterns as he moved, hips arching slightly off the bed.

Gale felt warm. Too warm . He used the hand not currently wrapped around his cock to toss aside the covers, cool air touching him in places it rarely touched him. He shivered against the sensation, even as it further aroused him. 

The hand on his cock was working a little bit faster now -- his grip a little firmer. 

He was still trying desperately to keep his mind blank, to concentrate only on the sensation, but the occasional image drifted into awareness. Mostly he managed to keep it generic. Sweat-soaked skin and soft curves, an unknown hand, an anonymous mouth -- but unbidden flashes of those familiar tresses, soft skin, and that particular shade of peach on her lips came to mind, all too familiar. Those eyes, pupils blown wide with arousal flickered across his vision, but Gale was too far gone to feel anything other than want at their inclusion.

He let himself wonder. Let himself imagine running hands through her hair; let himself imagine sliding against her tender skin. Tav smiled at him, eyes flashing. I want you, she whispered in Gale’s ear, and he came.

It was a little startling, actually, how quickly it happened. Gale was used to having to work for it -- used to giving up in the middle when it seemed it wouldn't happen. Now, his body was stuttering through its orgasm, every nerve alight with pulsing satisfaction. Even as he came down from the high, he couldn't find him in it to feel guilty -- that would undoubtedly come later.

He spent several long minutes basking in bed, before he finally climbed out and slipped into the bathroom to clean himself up. When he was done, he dressed and then headed towards the kitchen to see about breakfast.

It wasn't until later, after he had eaten, that he ventured out onto the streets.

No matter how hard he tried, thoughts of Tav lingered in his mind, so he figured a walk might help clear his head.

He made his way to the market, where he bought fresh herbs, crumbled goat cheese, and his favorite bread rolls. On his way home, he took a detour, heading north instead of south.

As he passed a shop filled with various books, quills, and other items, Gale’s gaze was immediately drawn to a beautiful leather-bound notebook. He approached it, picking it up to test its weight before flipping through the pages. It was a very good journal.

Tav doesn’t have a journal, his mind supplied immediately -- which led him to conclude it was a very bad idea, prompting him to put it back quickly.

And yet…

He found himself returning to it several times, debating whether or not to buy it. He couldn't quite pinpoint what compelled him to buy it in the end.

Not that he had planned to buy Tav a gift… at least, not at this moment -- but the instant he saw the journal, it reminded him of her. There was something about it that seemed to scream Tav -- its soft leather cover, hand-cut pages, the refined, classic appearance.

Perhaps this gesture would help her forgive and forget, he reasoned, thinking that supporting her creative talent might simplify things. With that thought in mind, he tucked the journal into his satchel, a plan for an apology gift beginning to take shape in his mind like an approaching storm.

✧˚ · .

Tav carefully arranged her collection of plants on the table as her eyes sparkled with excitement. The initial group of starblooms they had planted was ready to be harvested.

Halsin walked over, sorting through a stack of parchment filled with notes. His pointed ears twitched slightly as he leaned over the table to assess their work. “Hócirithach?¹” 

“Cut-- cut what?  I don’t understand the second part,” Tav replied, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion. 

“You remembered the root of the verb well! But to form the future tense, you add the suffix ‘tha’ to the stem, and the second singular personal ending is marked by ‘ch’ at the end. Thus, my question meant...” He let his words linger.

“‘Will you cut?’” Tav ventured, attempting to piece it together. 

“Close! It actually means ‘Are you going to cut it?’,” Halsin’s signature smile lighting up his face whenever she got something right. 

Her attention shifted back to the planters of starbloom and the empty jars waiting to be filled with their petals. 

“Ah, right. Yeah, yes I’m going to shear these now. Are you going to get a brew started?” 

Halsin grunted approvingly.  “Quite right. And look, I collected this sample of liferoot last week near the riverbank. They were glowing beautifully at dusk.”

There, next to the cauldron in the corner, shimmered the collection of large, twisted roots Halsin had carefully cleaned and prepared. Tav really appreciated working alongside someone like him. He frequently ventured into nature, always returning with the finest samples for the greenhouse. He was lucky to get such a large amount of liferoot so close to Waterdeep! She knew she owed Halsin more than just a couple of pints for all his help. 

“Now, tell me the word for ‘river’ in Elven.”

Tav scoffed playfully. “Oh, come on! Basic nouns are what everyone starts with. I already know them. It’s ‘duin.’” 

“I can’t argue with that,” he admitted. “But verb conjugation doesn’t seem to come as easily to you. How would you say, ‘I am going to the river’?” 

Tav furrowed her brow, a hint of determination crossing her features. “Let’s see… Menon... na duin.²”

Halsin grinned. “That was great! However, remember that to indicate a specific river, not just any river, the preposition ‘na’ changes to ‘nan’, so one can say ‘to the river.’” 

Halsin continued to quiz her like that as they worked, Tav shearing the petals for harvesting while he slowly stirred some liferoot into the cauldron. It was really generous of him to offer Tav these free language lessons, even if fluency seemed like a distant goal. Just being able to engage with her Elven heritage felt good -- far better than hiding her pointed ears under her hair. She had even started dropping a few Elven phrases around Shadowheart, who also had a mutual struggle with the language. She chuckled each time Tav did it. Shadowheart was miles ahead of her in Elven vocabulary, though, armed with the lexicon she had inherited from her father, even if she hesitated to respond.

“I’m finished!” Tav announced after a while, proudly holding two jarfuls of petals.

“Indeed!” Halsin looked pleased with her dedication. “Time to add it to the distillation. Actually, do you happen to know ‘healing’? What is the Elven word for that?”

Tav hesitated for a moment, tracing the rim of one of the jars with her fingers. “I think it’s athae ?” 

“Exactly!” Halsin encouraged, and then gently guided her hands to carefully sprinkle some of the starbloom into the cauldron. He handed the handle over to her. “Remember to chant the incantation we practiced.”

Tav nodded, summoning the words from her memory. “Natho hana. Lacho calad.³” she whispered, her voice soft yet steady. The mixture began to shimmer, the combined essence of the two magical plants swirling and merging.

With keen eyes, Halsin observed her progress and quizzed her once more. “And which part of that phrase means ‘light’ in Elven?” 

“Uh… ‘hana’?” Tav guessed, but uncertainty tinged her voice. 

“Close, but not quite,” he replied gently. “It’s ‘calad.’” 

Tav bit her lip, a mix of frustration and determination rising within her. “I got most of it, though!” 

“That you did, my friend,” Halsin assured her while she continued to stir the glowing mixture.

The distillation held the promise of being a major breakthrough in her research, yet the lingering question was: what demographic precisely would they be able to heal?

In theory, they hoped to turn this brew into a potion that could alleviate moderate to severe pain from magical afflictions while also strengthening both the body and spirit to improve their resilience against the underlying issues. While it wouldn't eliminate the root cause of the affliction, it might render the symptoms negligible if their hypotheses are correct.

However, once they moved beyond the in vitro phase of research, how would they find individuals to test for the brew’s effectiveness? Coming by people with magical injuries was quite challenging. The stigma associated with such conditions certainly didn’t help. Many people were reluctant to be perceived as failed wizards or as the unfortunate subjects of failed experiments. Their ailments were often hidden, masked by clothing, or it affected them from within, which left no visible signs on their skin. Posting flyers around Waterdeep with messages that essentially read like “Hey, you! Come be my lab rat!” was hardly the most attractive method to gather volunteers for research.

She could ask around the Magic department… after all, that was where most of the wizards and sorcerers at Blackstaff were based. While some might have shifted their focus to Planar Studies or History, they likely still had connections with their peers at the department. A bit of casual questioning wouldn’t hurt. After all, Gale had opened up about his own injury when she had asked him about it in relation to his manuscript. Tav found it rather courageous to include such a personal topic in his writing. He might actually have insights or know others who could help spread the word.

“Would you happen to know any magically injured people? I mean, ones who might benefit from our potion?” she asked Halsin.

He looked thoughtful for a moment, and his tone was tinged with a hint of sorrow. “I used to know a few, but they’ve unfortunately passed away over the years.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise–”

“It’s okay, it is but another part of nature’s order, is it not?” Halsin conceded, his tone softening. “But you know, if you’re looking for potential test subjects, the Magic department is likely the best place to do so.”

Tav nodded thoughtfully. “That’s exactly what I thought as well! But it’s just…” she bit her lip, “it can be an… intimate topic.” 

“You never know what they might be willing to share unless you ask. Just be sure to present it in a way that's not solely about the potion. However, you’re showing genuine concern for their privacy even now; a touch of empathy can go a long way in fostering openness, and I believe you are already doing a good job of it.”

“All right, all right,” she relented, shaking her head with a smile. “I could also reach out to Gale. He’s mentioned something about having an injury in a book.” She didn’t feel the need to disclose that that piece of information was from the unpublished manuscript she had gotten her hands on. “Do you think he’d be open to talking about it more?”

“I should point out that probing too much into his condition might not be the most charming way to win him over, is it? Perhaps you should consider a different approach to win Dekarios’s heart.”

Tav felt her cheeks flush. “Oh, come on! I’m fairly sure he holds no interest in potions. He’d talked about his injury openly, and he might know more individuals similar to him. My questions would be purely for research purposes.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Halsin teased, a playful smirk crossing his face. “Maybe you should consider asking him what he thinks of a little ‘magical enhancement’.”

Oh, two could play that game.

“Of course, along with some inflating potions!” She laughed, clutching her stomach.

That made Halsin blush.

But Tav did take a moment to consider Gale’s perspective on botany. How much did he know about the subject? Would he know any spells beyond the Mold Earth cantrip?

In any case, if their research ever hit a roadblock, she could at least ask if he had any experience with botanical magic.

Chapter Text

Waterdeep was a beautiful city in the early morning; lights stretched out as far as the eye could see, stretching heavenward until the low-lying clouds were illuminated in shades of yellow and orange. Tav inhaled the crisp, refreshing air, savoring how it filled her lungs, a sensation impossible in the heat of warmer days.

She stepped into the shop, a welcome reprieve from the chill outside, and her nose was quickly filled with the scent of warm pastries and rich coffee, mixing with the scents of herbs and spices she was familiar with. The autumn morning sunlight streaming through the windows gave the shop a golden glow as she joined the queue and scanned the menu.

The shop was usually busy, and today was no exception. Even the outdoor seating was in use, despite the chill in the air.

Just as she was about to step up to the counter, she spotted Gale, seated at a small table in the corner, engrossed in a thick tone and a thoughtful expression on his face. He ran his fingers through his hair as he turned the page. Her heart fluttered at the sight of him, especially as his tresses became slightly tousled from the movement. She tensed. Should she say hello…?

Her thoughts were interrupted when the shopkeeper inquired about her order. She requested her usual Elven Brew.

By some stroke of luck, her voice seemed to filter through Gale’s attention. He glanced up just in time to meet her gaze, and she felt her cheeks warm as she offered a clumsy wave.

“Ah, Tav!” he called, his voice smooth and inviting. “Good morning.”

His warm tone was a genuine surprise after Liar's Night.

She hesitated for a moment, heart lodged in her throat -- Hells, he could make even the simplest encounters feel both terrifying and exhilarating. She stepped closer to the chair across from him, and he looked positively edible up close.

“Gale, hello,” she greeted, “mind if I join you?”

A flicker of emotions crossed his face - so fleeting she almost missed it - but he seemingly settled on saying, “Not at all. Please, sit.”

She didn't need to be told twice, sliding into the chair opposite him.

"Early breakfast?" he asked. He sat with deliberate restraint, his chair subtly angled back to keep their knees from brushing beneath the small table. The distance stung, but his veiled contentment at seeing her softened the blow, especially after the tension of the other night. 

"Just coffee. What are you having?" she asked, referring to the half-eaten biscuits on his plate.

“Some starlight scones. This place makes some of the best in Waterdeep,” though he still sounded hesitant -- that and a little awkward, like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. 

Tav smiled. “You know, I might have some as well.”

She quickly gestured to the shopkeeper for a serving and turned back to Gale, who was still fidgeting slightly in his seat.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “So, did you enjoy your night the other day?”

“I… I did,” she replied, “and you?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw, and after a brief pause, he admitted, “It was… surprisingly better than I’d expected.” He glanced away for a moment, then added, almost shyly, “You looked lovely, by the way. Dancing properly, I mean. You really are very talented.”

“Thank you.” Tav said hoarsely. “I… I would have liked to dance with you again.”

She didn’t know what prompted her to say that. All she knew was that the words slipped out before she could stop them, and her heart raced as she realised what she had said.

“Oh.” Gale seemed taken aback, his expression becoming guarded. After a moment of silence, his shoulders sagged a little as he finally managed to respond, “… me too.”

At that, Tav felt a surge of joy that nearly overwhelmed her, but just then, her order arrived, breaking the moment.

For a while they didn't talk, but sat in companionable silence.

Tav was making a complete mess with her biscuits, crumbs scattering as Gale watched her with an amused smile, his own plate already neatly cleared with a knife and fork.

“You’ve got quite the appetite,” he observed. “But there’s plenty to go around here; I'm sure you'd be welcome for a second serving."

“Ah- um... sorry,” though the way she shrugged suggested she was rather unapologetic,"It's just a habit I'd picked up when I was young. When you grow up never knowing where your next meal’s coming from, you learn to take what you can before it’s gone. Efficiency over etiquette.” Her fingers paused mid-reach. “I didn’t exactly have formal meals growing up.”

Gale raised an eyebrow as a smirk formed on his lips. “Efficiency is indeed valuable, and I dare say there’s something delightful about a more leisurely meal. Though I’d argue there’s something to be said for savoring a meal too - and cutlery does help with that.”

“Maybe, but I enjoy the spontaneity!” she chuckled. “Still, you might be onto something. I am getting to the age where using cutlery might be more... becoming.”

Gale was smiling now, like the little tidbit from Tav’s childhood was somehow precious. She blushed again -- she really needed to work on that; certainly no one else had ever made her blush so readily -- and took a sip of her coffee. The rim was lined with jam as she put the cup down. 

She blushed, and brought her thumb to her face and rubbed at the corner of her mouth, thumb coming away covered in plum marmalade. She hastily grabbed a handful of napkins and wiped at her mouth. Gale laughed.

The shop was steadily filling the closer they got to rush hour, so now Gale had to push his chair in, knees brushing against Tav’s -- and she delighted in seeing his cheeks colour when they did -- just to make room.

As if to dispel his awkwardness, Gale coughed.

“How’s your poetry coming along? Have you written anything new?”

Caught off guard, Tav nearly dropped her cup. Poetry -- she still hadn’t written any poetry. “Um, you know… it’s a work in progress,” she stammered, trying to keep her voice steady. 

"I’d love to hear what you’ve been working on,” Gale invited, leaning forward with genuine interest. “Are you in both Literature and Magic at the academy?”

Tav frowned at that, because surely Wyll would have told him -- though considering how busy he had been with the moving business of late, it was entirely possible he hadn’t filled Gale in on her background. 

Still she was not used to Wyll’s colleagues not knowing who she was. Being his charming annoyance at lunch usually kind of precluded that.

"No," she said, "Natural Sciences."

“Natural Sciences and poetry; that’s quite an unusual combination,” Gale said with a nervous chuckle. “Are you working on your own research? When do you expect to finish?”

Tav paused, realizing that answering that question might be tricky. “Yes, I am. But the timeline really depends on the research,” she admitted. “I’m hoping to wrap things up by spring.” At the very least, she hoped she would have the brew with Halsin tested and patented that spring.

Gale, who was smiling again, nodded like he approved of her research schedule, and said, "Good. That's good.”

Unfortunately, this was the moment when he, looking more nervous than Tav could ever recall, turned away to grab something from his bag. When he looked back up, he was holding a very nice, very expensive-looking journal, which he handed to her.

“I’m not really using this, so if you’d like it… I mean, you don’t have to take it. I just thought it would be better than letting it go to waste on my shelves,” he gestured absently, but Tav was too captivated by the journal to really notice.

Gale had just given her a present -- a thoughtful and beautiful one at that. Tav felt her chest grow tight, her eyes growing a little misty -- which was just the flour from the baker, she told herself. 

Clutching the journal to her chest, she met Gale’s gaze. “It’s beautiful. I love it. Thank you,” she said, her mind racing with thoughts of writing page after page of poe-- who was she kidding? The giddy smile that had been threatening to break out vanished in an instant. 

Her mood plummeted; how could she keep lying to him after such a generous gift?

“Gale, look… it’s really kind of you, but…” She hesitated, biting her lip before finally confessing, “I- uh- I don’t write poetry. I don’t even know why I said I did. I guess I thought…” 

She shrugged, struggling to articulate her thoughts. She’d thought Gale might like her better.  She’d thought it would make her seem more interesting. She’d thought it might give them something in common.

The truth was, Tav hadn’t really thought.

Gale didn’t say anything, but he stared at her as if he couldn’t quite grasp where she was coming from or what she was saying. Tav’s heart sank. She held the journal out across the table.

“I should probably give this back,” she said, feeling a physical ache at the thought. “It’s beautiful, and the nicest thing anyone’s ever given me, but it was given under false pretenses, and I’m really sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Gale let out a little huff of air -- one that Tav couldn’t quite decipher -- and then reached for the journal. To her surprise, instead of taking it, he pushed it back toward her. 

“You should keep it anyway. It’s nothing. It was just sitting around collecting dust. I figured someone should actually use it,” he said. He took another sip of his coffee, shifting his weight in the chair. Then he smiled, a bit confused but also fond, so Tav drew the journal closer to her chest, willing herself not to cry.

"I'm actually more impressed than I was. For a natural scientist, who doesn't write poetry, you have remarkable insight into the arts."

"I..." she tried, but it was impossible to speak around the lump in her throat. Tav had no idea what to say to that, but Gale wasn't leaving, so she said the only thing she could, “Thank you.”

She had taken Shadowheart’s advice to heart. She had told Gale the truth, and to her relief, he had forgiven her. More than that, he seemed genuinely interested in her -- the real her.

And best of all, she no longer had to worry about figuring out how to write poetry.

Clearing her throat, Tav decided to brush aside their earlier awkwardness. She glanced at the clock; the first period was approaching fast. Tav mustered some courage and asked, “Do you need to head out, or do you have time for another cup?”

Gale paused for a brief moment, then nodded. “I can stay a little longer. I’ll buy,” he gestured toward their plates as he stood. “You just hold our table.”

Tav nodded, her heart fluttering as she watched him walk away, a giddy smile spreading across her face. Gale was getting her another cup, while Tav saved their table.

✧˚ · .

Gale was scribbling furiously into his notebook as he walked, the words coming faster than he could catch them. It was a rare kind of urgency, something that hadn't happened to him before. There was so much in his head these days that it was all he could do to pin them to the page before they vanished. He couldn’t remember ever writing this much, this often -- not even during the height of his relationship with Mystra.

This - this - was Tav’s doing. Of that, he was certain.

Even now, the thought of her brought a faint, involuntary smile to his lips. He thought back to their coffee: the initial wave of panic, followed by the gentle realization that yes, he could speak to her outside the confines of a classroom without unraveling completely.

He’d panicked again afterward -- though only briefly. At that moment, it hadn’t felt like a breach. But later, when the calm had ebbed and self-doubt crept in, he’d reconsidered. Maybe it had been too intimate. Maybe he was simply rationalizing what, given their roles, had been wildly inappropriate.

But then he remembered the look on Tav’s face as she handed back the journal -- her journal, really. He’d expected anger. Or guilt. Or discomfort. Instead, he’d seen understanding. A kind of trust. He should have been angry, perhaps, that she’d lied. But all he’d felt in that moment was relief that Tav wasn’t rejecting him -- as he had initially thought -- that his anger had dissipated into quiet acceptance.

The guilt, so sharp at first, had dulled into something he could live with -- because he hadn’t crossed a line. He’d told her plainly that a relationship wasn’t possible back in his office. He hadn’t invited anything improper. It had been a coincidence. A conversation. Nothing more.

Lae’zel would be proud of him.

He felt light today. He suspected he could mostly thank Tav for that. This morning had been good -- really good.

He pushed open the department doors and headed for his office. The smile lingered as he stepped inside his space -- only to find Lae’zel already there, sorting stacks of papers with her usual precision.

She looked up, one brow arched in that particular way that said she'd already figured out the reason for his good mood and didn't particularly approve.

"Good morning," she said as Gale went to his usual seat. "You're in a good mood today."

Gale shrugged. "It's been a good week."

Naturally she asked what had made it a good week, and there was really nothing Gale could say that didn't begin and end with Tav, so he shrugged and said something about getting into the routine of the semester.

It was clear she didn't believe him, because her eyebrows shot up again, and she said, "Two weeks ago you’d talked about one student in particular. Have you seen her this week?"

A little seed of guilt bloomed in his chest, but Gale pushed it aside -- he wasn't doing anything wrong, he told himself -- and said, "She'll be done this spring," because it seemed like the most relevant thing to say.

Lae’zel gave him a considering look.

"Have you decided to pursue a relationship with her once she's done?"

Gale hesitated, because that was exactly what he planned on doing -- provided Tav was still interested -- but the way Lae’zel said it made it seem like a phenomenally bad idea. His brow knit with uncertainty.

"Can't I?" he asked.

They'd danced around this the last time, so Gale knew she only meant well. But she didn't believe he should pursue a relationship -- not with Tav, not with anyone; at least, not until he'd worked out some of his issues. Which, Gale had to admit, was a valid point, but surely he could do that before the spring.

He tossed his papers on the desk, and then pulled his satchel over his head, rooting through it to find his notebook. He stared at the cover for a moment, itching to write something -- anything -- but tucked it away instead. There were more immediate things to do. He glanced at it, longing to fill it with more words, but figured he should keep it closed and left it in his bag. He then went to join Lae’zel in stacking papers on the table.

He moved to help Lae’zel stack the loose pages into neat piles. They worked in silence for a while, until she leaned casually against the edge of the desk, arms folded. “What is it about her that feels... different?”

Gale blinked. “She’s in Natural Sciences.”

Lae’zel made a low, thoughtful sound. “Fascinating. Do you know which division?” 

That stopped him. For all the time he’d spent worrying over Tav being a student, he hadn’t once asked what kind of student she actually was.

“I don’t know, as a matter of fact. I don’t suppose I could check with the Registrar…”

Lae’zel straightened up slightly. “You definitely could. It might help clear your head, too. You've been scattered lately.”

He supposed he deserved that.

Without another word, he turned and made his way toward the Registrar’s office. The halls were quiet, his footsteps echoing with the soft creak of old wood. As he began climbing the stairs from the central hall toward the faculty tower, a familiar voice cut through the air. He sighed, bracing a hand against the banister.

“Gale!” Ms. Silverhand’s called from across the hall, poised and unmistakable.

He paused, his initial intent fading under the weight of her approach. 

“Professor Silverhand,” he said, his greatest attempt yet at concealing his dislike. 

“Sorry to bother you,” she began, offering a kind smile, “but the Magic department is celebrating its anniversary soon, and we’re trying to get a head count for the dinner. I was wondering if you planned to attend?”

It was startling, the way his expression must have changed, shifting from strained politeness to something very akin to horror. The mention of the anniversary summoned memories he would have preferred remained buried. Mystra.

His jaw tightened. He kept his voice measured, though his face had gone noticeably pale. “I appreciate the invitation, truly. But no -- I won’t be attending.”

She dipped her head, her expression unchanged. “Of course. Could you kindly ask Lae’zel on my behalf?”

He gave a nod in reply -- formal, but respectful. With that, there was nothing more to say. He turned and headed back toward his office, the detour forgotten.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. The dinner meant little to him, but Lae’zel might feel differently. At the very least, he could pass along the message. As for the question about Tav -- it would have to wait.

✧˚ · .

Tav actually enjoyed the following week. Her research with Halsin was going very, very well, she had a chance run-in with Gale, things were looking on the up.

On early Thursday afternoon, she was sitting in the teachers’ lounge, intending to get started on grading some homework essays for Jaheira -- when the clock chimed on the wall. Time to go to Gale’s lecture instead; the essays could wait.

Tav showed up to class early as usual, and saw Gale at the podium already. He was reading… was that an encyclopedia?

When Gale registered what Tav was looking at, a slight flush spread across his cheeks and he dropped his hand, moving it slightly behind his back so that the book was mostly out of sight. He cleared his throat.

"Tav, hello. I figured I should brush up," Gale said, sounding oddly guilty.

She looked up to meet his gaze, and a grin tugged at her lips before she could stop it.

"Well, when you’re finished with that," she said, nodding to the book in his hands, "if you want something more advanced, you’re welcome to borrow a few of mine."

Just the thought of Gale reading something she’d written made her stomach flutter. She wondered if this was how he’d felt, handing her that book manuscript.

Gale, who still looked decidedly flustered, grunted something that might have been agreement. Tav realised that if she hadn’t already been smitten, this would’ve been the moment she fell.

There was just something about Gale -- embarrassed over getting caught with a nature encyclopedia -- that warmed her to her core. The idea that he was reading up on natural sciences just to hold a conversation with her? She'd never quite get over the giddy delight of it.

Still clearly mortified, Gale glanced toward the door, then back at her.

"Do you have other interests besides Magic?" Tav asked, filling the silence. She wanted to drag this moment out, maybe even suggest grabbing another coffee -- even though she’d finished a cup a mere hour ago, and even though he had a lecture starting pretty soon. "What do you do when you’re not ‘illusioning’ us all?"

Gale flushed. "Well... I like to cook," he admitted, eyes finding hers. The confession came softly, like a secret, and he hesitated -- enough for Tav to sense that pushing too far might scare him off. So instead, she leaned in gently, keeping the moment light.

"Cooking? What do you like to make?"

"Different Waterdhavian dishes, mostly," he said with a small shrug. "I enjoy experimenting with flavors. And wine -- I’ve built up a small collection over the years."

That earned a sparkle from Tav’s eyes. "Sounds like you could throw a great dinner party. I’d love to try your cooking sometime."

Gale’s expression shifted. “Gods, you can be so naive,” he muttered - then immediately looked like he’d bitten his tongue, as if the words had slipped out against his will; like it bothered him greatly that Tav would succumb to some Illusions professor’s cooking recipes.

"Excuse me?" Tav blinked.

He gave her a pointed look. "You assume everyone’s intentions are honourable."

A flush crept up her neck. She knew better. Growing up the way she had, she was no stranger to ulterior motives. But after meeting Jaheira -- and watching her world turn inside out -- Tav had chosen to believe that, sometimes, the people she met might be the exceptions to the rule.

"Or," she said evenly, "I just happen to love cooking too. I’d happily trade recipes with you. But tell me -- do you really think everyone has an ulterior motive?"

Gale hesitated. "Honestly? Yes.That's been my experience.” 

Tav decided, then and there, that she was going to be the one to prove him wrong. With a sly smile, she asked, "So what’s your angle been with me, then?"

Gale’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Nothing came out. Tav took pity on him.

"Or have you just been hoping to impress me?"

Now that got a reaction. Gale flushed a deep crimson, and Tav thought she’d never get tired of making him blush. He cleared his throat, clearly scrambling for composure.

"I suppose that depends," he said, and when Tav raised an eyebrow, he added, "are you impressed?"

Oh, he was flirting. Awkwardly. Cautiously. Like he was doing something illegal and half-expected to be arrested for it.

"Very," Tav said, swaying just slightly toward him. The air between them shifted, drawing them closer.

Until footsteps echoed down the corridor. Gale flinched, as if yanked from a dream. "Sorry, I have to..." he gestured vaguely, conflicted. 

Then he bent to gather his cue cards, carefully avoiding her gaze.

Tav drifted back to her seat, dazed and a little breathless. It felt like they’d had this conversation before. Gale was, without question, the most frustrating person she knew.

Two steps forward. Twelve steps back. There were days he made her want to tear her hair out.

✧˚ · .

Tara glanced up from her favorite spot -- curled in the left corner of the sofa, nestled into the pillows -- jumping instantly to her feet as Gale stepped through the door.

"Mr. Dekarios!" she greeted, crossing to his side. She rubbed her head affectionately against his calf and twined herself around his legs. "What happened?" she said again when he didn't answer.

But what exactly could he say? 

I almost kissed Tav. I wanted to kiss Tav. I still want to kiss Tav. I could have invited her back here -- into my own home -- and she would have come. It all would have been so easy. Too easy.

Gale swallowed hard, bile threatening at the back of his throat.

"Sorry, Tara. I'm fine," he said. 

Tara chirped, a sound full of gentle skepticism. After a moment's consideration, Gale realised that this marked the first time in a very long while that he had deliberately lied to her.

And she knew it.

He hung his head and followed her into the living room, where he sank into the sofa as Tara climbed delicately into his lap, settling with a gentle purr.

"I ran into Tav," he said eventually.

Tara waited patiently. There were times when she would pry -- drag Gale out of his cocoon inch by inch, but there were other times when she clearly recognised that he needed to do things in his own time. This was one of those times. She just waited, and Gale loved her for it.

"I almost kissed her."

She did that slow blink at him then, soft and wistful, and yet filled with such pride that Gale was shaking his head long before she could say anything.

“No,” he murmured, already shaking his head. “I don’t think you understand, Tara. I almost kissed her -- and I shouldn’t have. She said she’d be done in spring, but I don’t know if I can keep seeing her without doing something I’m going to regret.”

The thought of going months without seeing Tav made his chest ache. He thought it might actually kill him -- suffocate him under the weight of longing. How had she gotten under his skin so completely, so quickly?

Was it just because she was the first person since Mystra to stir something in him? No. It had to be more than that.

“Mr. Dekarios,” Tara said gently, “would it really be so terrible to not wait? What’s six months in the grand scheme of things?”

He waved the question off, because it was obvious she didn't understand -- couldn't understand. And he never, ever wanted her to.

She didn't say anything else, probably sensing Gale's determination. Instead, she shifted comfortably on his lap, her tail curling over his arm. They sat in silence for a while, but Gale wasn’t built for stillness. Within twenty minutes, he was fidgeting, restless. Tara took pity and climbed off him, giving him a look that read as his permission to go.

He disappeared into the kitchen to put away his shopping. When he returned, it was with a steaming mug of tea. Before he sat down, he retrieved his notebook, flipping to a fresh page. He wasn’t quite sure why, only that it felt like the right thing to do. He began jotting down thoughts -- the things he wanted to say. The things he could never say.

The afternoon bled away like that: Tara curled into the couch, casting glances at Gale as he shifted every few minutes, scribbling and crossing out words, tapping his pen against the page. Eventually his fidgeting started to annoy her. It was still early -- too early for dinner -- when he pushed himself off the couch again and made his way into the kitchen.

Still, lentil soup wasn't going to make itself.

Tara leapt onto the counter just as he began slicing carrots.

“You could try telling her,” she said.

Gale glanced up from the cutting board, brow furrowed.

“Mr. Dekarios. You could simply tell her nothing can happen until she graduates. That way, at least you’d be on the same page. You could stop each other.”

Tara put up a valiant effort to sound like the voice of reason, but he shook his head. “I’m not asking her to wait for me.”

Gale thought he’d made that clear -- apparently not.

Tara flicked her tail, unimpressed. “And why not? At least then she’d understand why you’re acting hot and cold. She might even think it’s admirable.”

Gale didn’t answer. He tossed the carrot slices into the pot, the scent of thyme rising to greet him. He closed his eyes and inhaled. Then turned to the tomatoes.

Tara, now seated on the other side of the counter, watched him thoughtfully. He knew what was coming next. He’d heard this argument too many times already. So before she could speak again, he changed the topic.

“I was thinking,” he said, as casually as possible, “maybe I should invite Mother and Elara over. I thought maybe we could do something, the four of us. Next weekend, perhaps.”

Tara’s ears perked up. The change of subject worked.

“Do you think Mrs. Dekarios will bring sardines? Though, the trout last time was divine…”

She launched into a rambling monologue about fish the way only she could, and Gale, satisfied, let her go on. He smiled faintly and turned back to his soup, grateful for the distraction.

Chapter Text

There was something about the bustle of Waterdeep that made Tav feel utterly alone. 

Thousands of people moved with purpose -- commuting, shopping, ushering children home -- all of it so perfectly ordinary.

Tav had never felt particularly ordinary.

She wandered without direction, drawn outside by the faint late autumn sunlight and the need to appreciate a city poised on the brink between seasons. The nights were getting colder, darker. She wondered if it would snow by Simril. She missed mulled wine.

The thought made her feel oddly festive. Shadowheart would probably groan if Tav brought out all her decorations again. Tav hadn’t known much about Waterdhavian holidays before moving here -- but her flatmate humored her overenthusiasm, so long as it was limited to the actual week of celebration.

She still remembered that first year in the apartment, arriving home with a star map and a box of silver-blue decorations. She still hung them up every year. The nomads she grew up among -- the probably-bandits -- never believed in celebrating anything. Too wasteful, the adults always said.

The buildings around her were decked in a mix of leftover Liar’s Night banners and what Shadowheart deemed “entirely premature” Last Sheaf decorations. The Magic Department’s anniversary usually fell around the same time -- technically earlier than Last Sheaf, but it all blurred together in the city’s seasonal chaos.

Tav usually spent Last Sheaf with Shadowheart’s family. She still remembered waking up that first morning to find them in the flat, having brought enough food for a small army and half a dozen gifts with her name on them. It had been the first real feast she'd ever experienced since… Well, ever.

The central square buzzed with life -- the market stalls overflowing with fresh produce, warm loaves, and rare herbs. Tav glanced up, startled to find Gale, arms laden with bags, stepping out of a nearby bakery.

She blinked. It was sometime before she could convince her brain to start working again, the sight of Gale, framed by late-morning sunlight, cheeks pleasantly flushed from the cold and his walk, pretty much derailing Tav’s higher brain functions.

He looked around absently before spotting her. His eyes lit up, and he raised a hand in greeting -- though the bags made it a bit of a struggle.

She waited as he made his way over, heart skipping. So he was out buying produce. Her cheeks warmed at the thought of Gale cooking. 

"Hi," Tav said, the power of speech having seemingly abandoned her.

“Hello,” he greeted back.

“I suppose you like to hit the market on Saturdays?”

Gale chuckled, adjusting the weight of his bags. “Yes, well... hard to resist the allure of fresh ingredients.” He paused, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Are you often on this side of town?”

“I live nearby,” she replied.

She was about to ask if he did too, when suddenly, without warning, Gale staggered slightly, a few of his bags slipping from his grasp. One hand flew to his chest, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths.

On instinct, Tav reached toward him, hand hovering in case he needed help. “What’s wrong?”

He met her gaze, his face drawn with pain and a flicker of embarrassment. “My chest…”

She felt a rush of sympathy -- and surprise. Gale didn’t strike her as someone who allowed himself to look weak. But lately, he’d stopped hiding his pain -- at least around her. 

He would rub his chest sometimes, almost absentmindedly; he’d acknowledged the part of his book that discussed his injury to her, and the importance of safety measures to avoid it. On the morning they had shared a meal the previous week, he had downed a vial of cloudy liquid before he left, which she assumed was his pain relief potion. He hadn’t tried to explain, but he hadn’t concealed it either. 

“Do you have anything else to take?” she asked. “For when it gets this bad, I mean?”

“I already did,” he said, eyes shut tight for a moment. “It doesn’t do much, unfortunately. It’s fine -- I’m used to it. I just have to wait it out.”

He concealed it well; aside from the occasional wince when the pain intensified, no one else would have noticed. However, his mask had shifted, if not completely fallen, in her presence, and she felt both honored and strangely helpless, wishing there was something she could do. She wracked her brain for everything she knew about curse-related injuries, including the botany research she was conducting to assist in similar cases. Tav found herself vaguely regretting that she hadn’t trained as a healer instead, although Gale had likely consulted many healers as well.

Her and Halsin’s work was still in the in vitro stage, and she had no idea if their potion would be suitable for long-term use. Nevertheless, it seemed like very close to what Gale needed -- something that could potentially provide him relief from the pain. She suddenly wanted to tell him about it very badly.

“I’m actually working on a similar brew,” Tav said, hesitating.

Gale blinked, brows drawing together. “Truly? I wasn’t entirely clear on what you were researching.”

It was as open an invitation as Tav had ever received. Her head grew dizzy at the thought of sharing her work, and before she could talk herself out of it, she launched into her research.

She told Gale about the many cases of magical injuries that don’t respond to conventional treatments. She told him they are working on a new potion that might help. She talked far too long, and far too quickly, becoming animated in a way that always had Shadowheart telling her to Just take a breath and breathe, Tav. 

Then she stuttered to a stop because Gale was still looking at her. Intently.

“Oh, Hells,” she muttered. “I’m sorry. That was probably really boring, and I swear, I don’t usually go on like that--”

Gale stood a little straighter and held up a hand.

"It's fine. Good, even." He ducked his head slightly. When he glanced back up there was an edge of vulnerability in his eyes. "Passion's a good look on you," he said, looking for all the world like admitting as much had terrified him.

It was Tav’s turn to freeze. There was no other way to process what Gale had said. No one had ever complimented her on her passion before. And Gale was looking at her like she was something to be painted and preserved.

"Still, I'm sure it's nowhere near as interesting as the arts," Tav said, aiming for self-deprecation. It came out sounding like self-pity.

To her surprise, Gale shook his head. "On the contrary; at least you're doing something that matters. You're saving lives. There's nothing more important than that. I think it's brilliant." He flushed even as he said it, like bestowing the compliment had cost him the last reserve of his nerve.

Tav blushed, a little stunned, and more than a little moved. She wanted to hug Gale senseless -- too soon, she told herself. She wanted to run off with this man and keep him forever and ever.

“How much do you know about alchemy or potion-making?” she asked. “I could really use feedback. Maybe even help testing it.”

Gale stared at her, clearly at a loss for words, several emotions passing over his face in quick succession. When he found his voice again it was low. “I’m not a leading expert. But transmutation was one of my fields. And I’ve got a… personal investment in alchemy, one might say.”

She smiled, her heart thudding. “It’s still in development -- complicated. But I’ve been considering transmutational methods, and you’re much more competent with magic than I am.”

He clearly tried to hold back emotion, but hope flickered across his face. “If your potion has the potential to help those in need, especially for conditions like mine… I’d love to offer any assistance I can.”

“You’d do that?” she said, lighting up. “That would be incredible. I’ve been poring over notes, revising formulas -- I just want to make something that works.”

They stood there, looking at each other. The moment stretched. Gale finally looked away, swallowing hard.

“With the electives you’re taking, I’m sure you’ll excel,” he said with a nervous chuckle, as if purposefully trying to steer the conversation towards something lighter.

Tav tried not to think about how badly she wanted to hug him again.

“I’d rather have someone who knows what they’re doing,” she said, grinning. “I’d rather not burn the academy down.”

“At least you wouldn’t be the first,” he smiled. “Still… in the name of many of us, thank you. Even if it doesn’t work.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said softly. “We still have to brew it. Then we see if it works -- for you.”

“Alright,” he murmured, with a hint of finality as he bent to pick up his bags. A blush lingered on his cheeks. “I’ll see you on Thursday.” 

Though she hoped she’d see him before then.

“Yeah,” she said, and the way he said Thursday suggested he hoped the same.

Tav lingered for a moment, watching him walk away, her smile lingering even as she wandered to another corner of the market.

✧˚ · .

Tav hadn’t had a proper conversation with Shadowheart in a while. She'd been distracted of late, too preoccupied by a haze of thoughts about the journal, then her coffee with Gale, and then her giddy happiness, to notice until that evening. By the time she realised she hadn’t seen Shadowheart, she'd simply assumed she was on an extended visit to her parents. She'd meant to write, but Halsin had been especially excited about the latest direction of their research, and Tav was quickly swept up in tests and samples.

She'd left Gale's Thursday class feeling more than a little giddy -- he had outright flirted with her today, even earning them a few snickers from the back of the room. Tav had stayed after the lecture, and they'd talked about the progress of her project, and Gale’s excitement about starting Hypnotic Pattern next week. Her smile hadn’t faded by the time she made it back to the apartment, humming under her breath as she stepped inside.

She got maybe a foot in the door before hearing the familiar voice welcoming her arrival. She opened the door to find Shadowheart slouched at the table.

“Are you all right?” Tav asked as she reached her side.

“Sorry. Fine,” Shadowheart replied, then offered a happy, yet searching expression. “But shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Tav blinked, frowning. It took her several seconds -- and a few distracted steps toward the kitchen -- to connect the dots. Then she remembered one of their last real conversations, and her face broke into a smile.

“You’ll be happy to know I took your advice,” she said. “He tried to give me a journal, but I told him the truth, apologised, and offered it back.”

Shadowheart seemed startled to hear that. Her gaze became piercing. "And?" she asked, though it would have been impossible to misread Tav's good mood.

“And he told me to keep it. Then bought me coffee.” She shrugged, trying for nonchalance. “We’re practically seeing each other.”

Shadowheart crossed to her side in the kitchen, raising an eyebrow. “In actuality, or in the Tav way?”

In lieu of an answer, Tav pulled a face, sticking her tongue out. Shadowheart laughed.

Tav had wanted her advice -- needed it, really -- and Shadowheart had been right: she had been an idiot. She’d worried so much over the poetry for so long that she hadn’t considered just how freeing it would be to admit the truth. Opening up to Gale had created an entirely new bond between them, and Tav probably had Shadowheart to thank for it.

She reached past her for a knife and grabbed a potato from the counter. “Are you going to tell me what’s been keeping you away?”

“I’m a little sick,” Shadowheart admitted. And now that Tav was paying closer attention, she could see it -- red-rimmed eyes, nose a little raw, the tired slump of her shoulders. Probably the same cold that had been circling town all season.

Tav then tried to protest as Shadowheart insisted she wanted to celebrate her good mood, but eventually relented under the promise that Shadowheart wouldn’t “cough her lungs up” from a glass or two of wine.

Half an hour later, they were seated at the dining table, two plates of home-cooked food before them and a bottle of wine open between them.

“Now tell me,” Tav said around a bite of rosemary-flavoured potatoes, “what are you thinking of getting your parents for Last Sheaf?”

Shadowheart brushed her braid over her shoulder, considering. “Something for the farm, maybe.”

“I had a similar idea,” Tav said. She pulled out a small, slightly lopsided carving of a chicken from her bag. “Though somehow, I think this one will really make them question my taste.”

“Or,” Shadowheart chuckled, reaching for it, “you could always go with ten jars of pickled herring.”

“Was that your Aunt Gertrude?”

“Absolutely.” She smirked, turning the chicken over in her hands.

Every year, Shadowheart’s aunt would bring some mystery jar of pickled… something. It was always generously offered. No one ever wanted to be the first to open it.

“You know,” Tav said with a grin, spearing another potato, “I wouldn’t mind ten jars of these.”

“Well. Good thing you like potatoes.”

“And you? Would you like any preserves?”

“Ten jars of pickles, please,” Shadowheart replied, rolling her eyes playfully -- then broke off into a cough that she chased with a sip of wine. 

“But I suppose that’s the charm of it. The gifts may be weird, but at least the company is great,” Tav conceded.

Shadowheart smiled over the rim of her wine. 

Tav was already looking forward to spending Last Sheaf with Shadowheart’s family again. It felt more and more like home every year.

✧˚ · .

Tav showed up just on time for Gale’s lecture. She’d lost track of the hour in the greenhouse, still picking dirt from under her fingernails as she came through the door.

Gale glanced up sharply when he saw her, relief flooding his features. He didn't even bother trying to school his reaction, looking at Tav with what she thought -- or rather, hoped -- was open longing in his gaze. Maybe she was reaching. Still, she offered a brilliant smile.

And got one in return. 

The only seat left open was hers -- despite the fact that several students were standing -- and she slid into it, settling into the, by now, familiar routine. 

No sooner had she sat down than Gale launched into the background of the Hypnotic Pattern spell.

As he spoke, and later, as they discussed and practiced the spell, he kept catching her eye. Not just the usual way, him checking in on her. It was persistent, deliberate. Like he was trying to tell her something that the words themselves didn’t say. Like he wanted her to read between the lines.

Tav tried. She’d spent the better part of yesterday poring over the theory in the library, because she certainly hadn’t learned the spell from Wyll. She’d wanted to come prepared.

But if anyone was hypnotising, Tav thought, it was Gale.

When class ended, she lingered, as she often did, taking unnecessary care as she packed away her things -- items she hadn’t even needed, truthfully, but had laid out anyway, just to give herself something to slowly put away at the end of class.

It paid off, it seemed, because even before the classroom fully emptied, Gale crossed to her.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said.

“Oh?” Tav replied, remembering suddenly that he’d promised to look into Transmutation spells for her. The thought warmed her from head to toe.

“Warden of Vitality,” he said. “You might look into combining it with your potion.”

The expression that bloomed across her face must’ve been something, because for a moment she couldn’t speak. Gratitude swelled in her chest. She barely contained her urge to kiss him right then and there. He made it so easy, sometimes.

She swallowed it down. A couple of students, who obviously wanted a minute of Gale's time, hovered in the background.

“I’ll look into it right away,” Tav said, and meant it.

Gale grinned. “I’ll do the same. Further research.” He tipped his head toward the two girls hovering at the edge of the classroom, clearly waiting for his attention. His smile, though brief, held apology and softness.

Tav left the classroom then, aware - acutely - that Gale was watching her go.

Something had shifted.

There was less hesitation in him now. He was holding himself back less and less, as though something had caused him to loosen his rules -- and Tav still didn't know what those rules were -- but it was painfully obvious that he was interested, that it was only a matter of time before this thing between them came to a head.

And for the first time in her life, Tav felt… secure.

She grinned as she stepped into the corridor, heart light in her chest.

✧˚ · .

Tav could not, however, show up late again, and made sure to arrive early to Gale's next class.

It was almost a shock to get there ahead of him. 

She hesitated briefly inside the empty classroom, but after a moment's consideration, she took her seat. The wait stretched on, the room gradually filling around her. Tav grew increasingly antsy. Fifteen minutes passed. Then twenty.

Five minutes before the scheduled start time, the door opened -- and in walked Lae’zel, Gale’s teaching assistant, making her way to the podium. Tav frowned.

"I'll be running today's lecture,"  Lae’zel said.

Tav's world ground to a halt. She extracted herself from her front-row seat and slipped from the classroom as discretely as she could -- a difficult feat considering she was sitting front and centre. She wasn't the only student to do so.

The moment she stepped into the hallway, her thoughts narrowed to a single person: Wyll.

She climbed the stairs two at a time and made her way down the corridor to his office. The door was slightly ajar. Without a word, she slipped inside and dropped into the chair across from his desk.

Wyll glanced up from a stack of papers he was grading, one brow raised.

“To what do I owe this visit?” he asked, amused.

“Do you know where Gale is?”

Wyll shrugged. “He wasn’t in today. Might’ve had something come up. Or he’s sick.”

Tav's world lurched into motion, even as she made a face. “Shadowheart’s been down with a cold as well.”

Wyll leaned back in his chair, smile curling at the edge of his mouth. “For what it’s worth, I imagine he’s miserable about not seeing you.”

She grimaced, though she couldn’t help but smile faintly. She stayed a while, letting conversation with Wyll distract her, though her thoughts kept drifting.

Tav even dropped in on another one of Gale's classes scheduled that week, just to see how he was doing.

And again, Tav arrived early -- too early -- to Gale’s lecture. Again, she waited. Again, Lae’zel took the podium.

Her sharp gaze locked with Tav’s the moment she entered, mirrored by a few curious glances from other students. Tav could feel the surprise ripple through the room. 

There was no point sitting for the class -- where was Gale? 

The last time she’d seen him, he’d been fine. A little flustered. A little intense. But fine. Had something happened? Was his old injury acting up again?

The questions churned in her mind, and no answers came.

Gale didn’t return that week. No messages, no updates from the department. Tav checked with Wyll  -- twice. Maybe three times.

She had nothing to prepare for anymore. No new spells to study, no classroom to linger in.

Mostly, she moped.

She reread her notes. Brewed too many cups of tea. Stayed in the greenhouse for extra long periods.

The week crept forward.

Still no Gale.

And that absence grew louder by the day.

✧˚ · .

The fog had begun to lift from the harbor by the time Mystra’s ship glided into port, a sleek, dark-hulled vessel that left barely a ripple in the water. Those who worked the docks rarely turned their heads, used to the coming and going of ships.

Mystra disembarked with the same grace as ever - slow, measured steps, her silks untouched by the breeze. She barely looked older than the way she had ten years ago, her silver-shot hair bound in a long braid, and eyes still the color of drowning stars. 

A tall man in robes of violet and gold was waiting for her at the pier. He bowed stiffly. “Lady Mystra. A pleasure to welcome you back to Waterdeep. We’re honored that you accepted the invitation to deliver the keynote address at the Academy.”

“I find nostalgia to be a more potent motivator than courtesy,” she replied, her voice quiet, vaguely accented -- Netherese, though the dialect was decades out of use. “It’s been... some time.”

Mystra’s gaze flicked up the hill, toward the shining spires of Blackstaff Academy.

Some were of the opinion that her focus on raw magical manipulation veered closer to necromantic parasitism than anything resembling theory. She spoke of ley lines like veins, of the Weave as something to conquer, to bend to her purpose. She rarely published, and when she did, her writing was so dense and tangled it felt like an incantation in itself. Her theories were unorthodox at best, dangerous at worst.

Still, she’d ascended. A leader in the magical sciences. A name few dared challenge.

No one questioned her place among the speakers for the Academy's anniversary.

No one but the person who remembered what happened.

A brilliant student once, too bright too fast, set alight by her interest, burned trying to follow where she led.

She didn’t know he was a professor now.

Didn’t know he’d be there.

She would.

Soon.