Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The fire crackled, casting warm orange light over the quiet camp. Oreilla sat with one leg stretched out, the other bent at the knee, her fingers idly twirling the ring on her finger. Across from her, Gale nursed a cup of wine, his expression pensive as he gazed into the flames.

"It's curious," he said finally, glancing at her. "You wear a ring, yet I've never heard you speak of a lover."

Oreilla arched a brow, her lips tugging into a small grin. "Sharp eyes."

Gale chuckled, dipping his head slightly, a faint flush creeping up his neck. "One must be, in our line of work."

She hummed, letting the silence stretch before answering. "It was an engagement ring. Arranged, of course."

His brow furrowed. "Was?"

She waved a hand, as if swatting away an insect. "I was taken from the party before any vows could be spoken. Before anything could happen, really." Her fingers stilled on the ring. "Never even kissed, if you can believe that."

Gale choked slightly on his drink. "You—?"

Oreilla’s grin widened. "Mhm. Strict upbringing. Magic, etiquette, heir training. No distractions." She tilted her head, watching him with amusement. "Why, are you scandalized?"

Gale cleared his throat, avoiding her gaze. "No, no, of course not. It’s just... surprising."

She leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand. "And what about you? You speak of Mystra with reverence, but there’s weight to your words."

His expression darkened slightly. "It was... not the partnership I once believed it to be. Love should not demand one to diminish themselves." His fingers tightened around his cup. "It took me a long time to see it."

Oreilla studied him for a moment before reaching over and tapping his wrist, drawing his attention back to her. "You burn bright, Gale. Even the greatest of gods should not ask you to snuff yourself out."

He blinked at her, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. She watched, pleased, as the tips of his ears reddened. "I— well, that is very kind of you to say."

She leaned back, her grin turning playful. "You blush so easily."

He huffed, taking another sip of wine to mask his reaction. "And you enjoy pointing it out far too much."

Oreilla chuckled, turning her gaze back to the fire. "Perhaps."

Chapter Text

The night was alive with music, the air thick with the scent of roasted meat and spiced wine. The tieflings and druids danced around the fire, laughter and song blending into a chaotic harmony. Oreilla stood on the edge of the festivities, watching with an amused smirk as the celebration carried on. Her bright purple eyes flicked toward Gale, who had been nursing a goblet of wine, half-lost in thought.

She approached, tilting her head slightly. “You’re awfully quiet for a man who has free-flowing wine at his fingertips.”

Gale chuckled, swirling the liquid in his cup. “Ah, well. I’m enjoying the ambiance. The revelry.” He glanced at her, eyes flickering to the glinting ring on her finger before he hesitated. “And… I’ve been thinking about our last conversation.”

Oreilla arched a brow, lips curling. “Which part? The part where I exposed my woefully uneventful love life? Or the part where I made you blush like a summer peach?”

Gale cleared his throat, a telltale flush creeping up his neck. “Ahem. The former, though the latter is inevitable with you, I suppose.” He exhaled, watching the firelight dance in her eyes. “It struck me, you know. Someone as captivating as you, untouched by romance, by affection. It seems… an injustice.”

Oreilla hummed, stepping closer. “Oh? And what do you propose, Gale Dekarios? Shall I pluck a willing tiefling from the dance and let them ravish me in the name of fairness?”

Gale coughed into his fist. “I—ah—no, that’s not quite—” He sighed, gathering himself before meeting her gaze with quiet sincerity. “I only mean to say… should you ever wish to experience such things, a first kiss, for instance, you deserve it to be with someone who values the moment.”

She regarded him, the firelight casting golden hues over his face. A teasing remark hovered on her tongue, but she swallowed it down, considering him instead. The wizard who had once been wrapped in the shadow of his past now stood before her, offering something real.

“So,” she mused, stepping close enough that he could feel the warmth of her body, “are you saying you wish to be my first, Gale?”

His breath hitched, lips parting slightly. “Only if you want me to be.”

For a moment, Oreilla merely studied him—the way his fingers twitched at his side, the way his lips pressed together in nervous anticipation. Then, with a slow, almost predatory grin, she leaned in, voice a whisper against his ear.

“Well then, Wizard. Make it count.”

His hand came up gently, fingers barely grazing her jaw as he closed the space between them. The kiss was soft, reverent—an offering rather than a claim. When they parted, Gale searched her face for any sign of regret.

But Oreilla only smirked. “Not bad. You may have to try again to perfect the technique.”

His laugh was breathless, but full of warmth. “Ah, well, practice does make perfect.”

And as the celebration roared on, the two of them remained in their own quiet orbit—just a wizard and a sorceress, bound by firelight and something unspoken between them.

Chapter Text

The fire had burned low, casting flickering shadows over Gale’s face. He sat a short distance from the others, his expression distant, his fingers tracing idle patterns into the dirt. Oreilla approached, arms crossed, head tilting slightly as she studied him.

“You look like a man carrying the weight of the world,” she mused, her voice softer than usual.

Gale exhaled a quiet laugh, though there was little humor in it. “Something like that.” He glanced up at her, hesitating for only a moment before patting the space beside him. “Stay a while?”

She settled down, her bright purple eyes never leaving his face. “Something is troubling you. More than usual.”

He nodded, fingers twitching in his lap as if grasping for words that eluded him. “There’s something you should know. About me. About what I carry.” His gaze flickered to her ring, then back to her face. “I should have told you sooner.”

Oreilla arched a brow. “That ominous? Should I brace myself?”

Gale huffed a laugh before inhaling deeply. Then, he reached for her hand, guiding it toward his chest. “Feel.”

She hesitated for only a breath before pressing her palm against him. Beneath her fingertips, she felt the unnatural thrum of magic—alive, volatile, pulsing beneath his skin like a second heartbeat. Her gaze snapped to his, a question forming on her lips, but Gale spoke first.

“There is a fragment of a goddess inside me,” he confessed, voice barely above a whisper. “Mystra’s rival. A volatile power, one that will destroy me—destroy everything—if left unchecked.”

Oreilla’s fingers curled slightly against his chest, feeling the warmth, the barely contained energy beneath. “That’s why you…” She trailed off, expression unreadable.

Gale nodded. “Why I must feed it magic. Why I fear losing control.” His voice wavered, but his grip on her hand was steady. “I wanted you to know. You, most of all.”

She didn’t pull away, didn’t recoil in fear or pity. Instead, she smirked, her thumb brushing against his chest. “So, what you’re saying is… you’re literally a ticking time bomb?”

Gale blinked before huffing a breathless laugh. “That is one way to put it, yes.”

Oreilla tilted her head, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “Well, I do like a little danger.”

He stared at her, stunned for a moment, before shaking his head with a rueful smile. “You are utterly impossible.”

Her grin widened. “And yet, you keep bringing me closer.”

For a moment, the weight of his confession felt lighter. And though the magic inside him still pulsed like an unspoken threat, her touch grounded him—if only for a little while longer.

Chapter Text

The night was quiet, the celebration from earlier now a distant hum beyond the edges of camp. The others had found their own corners to rest, but Gale had sought her out, his eyes holding something unreadable beneath the flickering firelight.

“Oreilla,” he said softly, offering his hand. “Come with me. I have something to show you.”

She arched a brow, but her lips curled in amusement as she took his hand. “Whisking me away under the stars, are you? Careful, Wizard. You might give me the wrong idea.”

Gale chuckled, shaking his head as he led her a short distance from camp. With a murmured incantation, the world around them shifted. The night sky above stretched impossibly vast, constellations dancing in patterns unseen by mortal eyes. A soft breeze curled through the space, carrying the distant scent of books and parchment, of home.

Oreilla exhaled slowly, eyes bright as she turned in the illusion. “This is… impressive,” she admitted, tilting her head toward him. “A wizard’s trick, or are you simply trying to seduce me?”

He chuckled, though his voice was gentler now. “Would it be so terrible if it were both?”

Before she could respond, the illusion shifted again, the endless sky folding into something warmer, cozier. They stood in a study—his study, if the stacks of tomes and arcane trinkets were anything to go by. A large window framed a view of Waterdeep’s skyline, the stars still visible above.

Oreilla turned to him, arms crossing. “Your home.”

Gale nodded, watching her carefully. “A glimpse of it, at least. A place where I once dreamed of sharing the wonders of the Weave with someone who would truly understand.” He hesitated, then met her gaze with quiet sincerity. “With you.”

For once, Oreilla found herself at a loss for words. The teasing remark she’d meant to make faded before she could summon it, replaced instead by a slow warmth curling in her chest.

“You are a sentimental one, aren’t you?” she murmured, stepping closer. Her fingers brushed along the collar of his robes, tracing the fabric absentmindedly. “Creating an entire world just to steal a moment with me.”

Gale swallowed, his breath hitching as her touch lingered. “If stealing a moment means having you here, then yes.” His voice was quieter now, as if the words themselves might break the fragile magic between them. “This illusion—it’s the closest I can offer to something real. A night with no interruptions. No gods, no expectations.”

Oreilla’s fingers curled lightly in the fabric of his robes, tugging him closer. “Then let’s make the most of it, Wizard.”

His lips parted, eyes searching hers for any hesitation. But all he found was certainty—a challenge, even. With a slow inhale, he closed the space between them. Their lips met, the kiss a slow unraveling of tension, of anticipation. His hands found her waist, tentative at first, before drawing her against him.

The illusionary walls of his home cocooned them in warmth, a place that existed only for them in this fleeting moment. Here, there was no pressure, no lingering shadows of the past—only two souls intertwining beneath a sky of their own making.

Chapter Text

The camp lay in a hushed stillness, the embers of the fire casting faint glows against the encroaching darkness. Gale approached Oreilla, his demeanor unusually solemn, a glint of determination in his eyes.

"Oreilla," he began softly, "there's something I wish to share with you—a place of tranquility amidst the chaos."

She regarded him curiously, her usual teasing absent as she sensed the gravity in his tone. "Lead the way, Gale."

With a murmured incantation, the world around them shifted. They found themselves aboard an astral vessel, the cosmos stretching infinitely in all directions, stars shimmering like scattered diamonds. The boat glided smoothly through the astral sea, a serene silence enveloping them.

Gale gestured to the expanse. "This is a fragment of the Astral Plane—a place of reflection and calm. I thought it might offer us a moment's respite."

Oreilla nodded, her gaze fixed on the celestial panorama. "It's beautiful, Gale. But I sense there's more on your mind."

He sighed, his expression troubled. "The threat we face—the Netherbrain—it's a peril unlike any other. And the orb within me... it presents a possible solution."
Her eyes narrowed, a steely resolve hardening her features. "What are you implying?"

Gale met her gaze, his voice steady but laced with sorrow. "If it comes to it, I can use the orb to annihilate the Netherbrain, even if it means sacrificing myself."

A tense silence settled between them, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the astral air. Oreilla leaned forward, her demeanor uncharacteristically stern.

"No," she stated firmly. "I will not allow you to throw your life away so readily."

He opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with a fierce, passionate kiss, her hands gripping the fabric of his robes as if anchoring him to existence. When they finally parted, her eyes blazed with intensity.

"You will find another way, Gale," she commanded. "We will find another way—together. Promise me you won't act recklessly."

Gale stared at her, emotions swirling in his eyes—surprise, admiration, and a profound affection. He nodded slowly, his voice a whisper. "I promise."

Satisfied, Oreilla allowed a small, relieved smile to grace her lips. "Good. Now, let's navigate these stars and plot a course that ensures we both see the dawn."

As the astral vessel continued its voyage through the shimmering expanse, they stood side by side, united in purpose and bound by a deepening bond that neither the cosmos nor impending doom could sever.

Chapter Text

The sea stretched out before them, endless and serene, the waves rolling in gentle rhythms beneath the balcony. Sunlight spilled over the stone railing, casting golden warmth over Oreilla’s skin as she leaned against Gale, his arm loosely wrapped around her shoulders. Tara lay curled between them, purring contentedly, her tiny frame rising and falling with each breath.

It was quiet. Wonderfully, impossibly quiet. No battles to plan, no looming destruction—just a peaceful morning in Waterdeep, tucked away in the home they now shared.

Oreilla turned the page of the book resting in her lap, though she hadn’t processed a single word in the last hour. Her mind wandered, thoughts circling something she wasn’t ready to say aloud. Something she hadn’t even fully allowed herself to process.

She was pregnant.

The realization had settled into her bones that morning, quiet and certain. It was a strange thing, knowing there was a life inside her—tiny, fragile, growing. It wasn’t fear she felt, not exactly. She wanted this child. More than she ever thought she could want something so unknown. But worry curled at the edges of her thoughts, a whisper she couldn’t quite shake.

It was too soon, wasn’t it?

They had just begun to live, truly live. After everything—the war, the Netherbrain, the choice to turn against the Emperor—they had barely started to breathe freely. And now, this.

Would Gale be happy? Would he look at her with that warm, adoring gaze of his, or would he see this as something unexpected? As another responsibility, another burden? She had never been wanted, only needed, a piece to fit into a predetermined puzzle of duty and obligation. But this child… this child would be different. She would make sure of it.

A gentle press of fingers against her shoulder pulled her from her thoughts. “You’ve been quiet,” Gale murmured, his lips brushing the top of her head. “More so than usual.”

Oreilla hummed, tilting her head against him. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous pastime,” he teased, but his tone was soft, affectionate.

She smirked, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Instead of replying, she simply leaned further into him, letting the warmth of the sun and the steady rise and fall of his breathing ground her.

Tara stretched between them, a tiny yawn escaping her before she settled once more, content in the cocoon of their shared warmth. Gale chuckled, scratching behind the cat’s ears.

“We should stay like this forever,” he mused. “No magic, no gods, no world-ending catastrophes. Just us, and Tara, and the occasional argument over who left books stacked on the kitchen table.”

Oreilla smiled, closing her eyes. “That sounds perfect.”

And for now, just for this moment, she let herself believe it could be.

Chapter Text

Oreilla arrived home from the bookshop, shaking off the cool breeze of the Waterdeep streets as she stepped inside. The scent of parchment and ink clung to her clothes, mixing with the familiar warmth of home. She undid her cloak, hanging it on the nearby rack, before her gaze drifted toward the balcony.

There he was—her ever-thoughtful wizard, lost in whatever musings had claimed him today. The late afternoon sun painted him in golden hues, his hair tousled by the sea breeze. He was a sight, truly, and something about the way he stood there, deep in thought, sent a thrill through her veins.

Smirking, she crossed the space between them, stepping onto the balcony with effortless grace. She let her hands brush over his back first, light as a whisper, before sliding them down to rest at his waist.

“Deep thoughts, my love?” she murmured, pressing her lips just below his ear.

Gale sighed, relaxing against her touch almost instantly. “Always. The universe is vast, and my mind is burdened with its infinite mysteries.”

Oreilla chuckled, letting her fingers trace slow, teasing patterns over his abdomen. “And here I was, thinking your mind might be burdened with thoughts of me.”

Gale turned slightly, amusement flickering in his warm brown eyes. “You would be correct in that assumption.”

She grinned, pleased, and pressed a lingering kiss to his jaw. “Good.”

Over the past few weeks, she had been unable to keep her hands off him—not that he ever complained. Her touches had grown softer, more frequent, her desire for him burning hotter than ever. It was as if her body craved him in ways beyond her understanding, a hunger that never truly abated. And so she indulged, letting herself pull him into bed more often, letting her hands linger longer, her kisses deepen quicker.

Gale, brilliant as he was, had clearly noticed.

And clearly, he was starting to panic about it.

His brow furrowed slightly as he looked down at her, his fingers coming to rest over hers where they lay against his waist. “Oreilla,” he started slowly, carefully, “are you feeling… alright?”

She blinked up at him, feigning innocence. “Of course. Why?”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and his gaze flickered over her face as if trying to solve an equation. “You’ve been… different lately. More… affectionate. Not that I am complaining—heavens, no—but I can’t help but wonder…”

She arched a brow, smirking. “Wonder what, Gale?”

He hesitated, then exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Whether something is wrong. Whether you’re unwell.”

Oreilla blinked before laughter bubbled past her lips, full and rich. “Unwell?”

Gale’s frown deepened. “It’s just—your appetite for, ah, intimacy has been… substantial as of late. And while I am—again—not complaining, I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

She bit her lip to stifle another laugh, warmth blooming in her chest. He was worried about her, truly worried, and it was so unbearably sweet.

She leaned up, brushing her lips against his, her voice a hushed whisper. “I assure you, Wizard, I am perfectly fine.”

Gale still looked unconvinced, but as her hands roamed his chest, his words faltered, replaced instead by a quiet groan.

Oreilla simply smirked. He’d figure it out soon enough.

Chapter Text

It had been two weeks since Gale had first started truly worrying, and it had only gotten worse.

The front door burst open with a gust of wind, and Oreilla glanced up lazily from her lounging chair, a piece of fruit held between her fingers. Tara shifted in her lap, tail flicking as she watched Gale storm into the room, arms full of books and stacks of parchment. His face was flushed, eyes wild, his usual grace entirely absent as he all but slammed the pile onto the nearby table.

Oreilla simply chewed her fruit, watching with mild amusement as he ran a hand through his hair, muttering furiously under his breath.

“Gale,” she called sweetly, “darling, have you taken up a new hobby of dramatic entrances?”

He whirled on her, pointing an accusatory finger. “Do you have any idea how much research I’ve done?” he demanded, his voice somewhere between exasperation and desperation. “Weeks, Oreilla! Weeks of agonizing study, of tracking down every possible cause for—” he gestured at her vaguely, “—this! You have been… different! More affectionate, more—more insatiable! And I have driven myself mad wondering what could be wrong!”

She blinked at him before delicately setting her fruit aside and standing, brushing down the fabric of her comfortable dress. A soft laugh left her lips as she closed the space between them, tilting her head as she reached up to touch his cheek.

“And what, my love,” she purred, “have your noble studies uncovered?”

His frustration flickered, replaced by something almost sheepish now that she was near him, touching him. He opened and closed his mouth, then grumbled, rubbing at his temple.

“You’re pregnant.”

The words hung between them, heavy and unreal.

Oreilla watched as realization struck him fully, his eyes widening as if the weight of his own declaration had finally settled into place. His breath hitched. His lips parted.

Then, before she could react, his arms were around her, lifting her effortlessly off the ground as he spun her in a joyous whirl. A laugh—full and bright—escaped him, his chest rumbling against hers.

“You’re pregnant!” he repeated, voice thick with emotion, laughter bubbling between his words.

Tears glistened in his eyes as he held her close, pressing his forehead to hers. “Oreilla,” he whispered, reverent and awed, “we’re having a child.”

She let herself melt into him, her own eyes stinging with tears as she whispered back, “Yes, we are.”

And for the first time, she had no doubt—he was happy.

Chapter Text

The days following Gale’s discovery of Oreilla’s pregnancy were… eventful.

If she had thought he was overprotective before, it was nothing compared to the whirlwind of care, concern, and relentless studying that followed. He had all but buried himself in books on drow pregnancies, muttering furiously about anatomy, magical influences, and hybrid gestation. Every morning, she would wake to find yet another pile of parchment scattered across their bedside table—new notes, new theories, new things he needed to research.

And then there was his fussing.

It was sweet. Endearing, even. But by the gods, it was also insufferable.

“Love, you shouldn’t be standing so long—come, sit.”

“Darling, the sun is far too harsh today, you should rest inside.”

“Oreilla, truly, is that what you’re wearing? You’ll catch a chill. Here—at least take this scarf.”

She had never seen him so persistent. Gale, the man who had spent their entire relationship utterly bewitched by her presence, was now acting as though she were made of delicate glass. If she so much as stood up too quickly, he was at her side in an instant, hand on her lower back, guiding her to the nearest chair.

The balcony, which had once been one of her favorite places to lounge, had become a battleground.

“You’ve been out here for too long,” he sighed one evening, arms crossed as he hovered near the doorway. “You need to rest.”

Oreilla arched a white brow at him, lounging comfortably with a book in hand and a cup of tea nearby. “Gale, my love, I am sitting. I am quite literally resting.”

“Yes, but you’re resting outside.” He huffed, stepping closer. “There are drafts. And sun exposure. And—”

“And I will not wither under the sun, dearest.” She smirked. “I’m drow, not a rose petal.”

Gale groaned, rubbing his forehead. “But—”

“Inside, wizard,” came a sudden, sharp meow from Tara, who was curled up beside Oreilla’s stomach, her little body pressed against the growing bump protectively.

Gale shot the cat an affronted look. “I beg your pardon?”

Tara flicked her tail, unimpressed. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Oreilla chuckled, running a hand over Tara’s fur. The little feline had been unusually possessive as of late, constantly nestled against her stomach, purring in deep, soothing rumbles. It was as though Tara had known she was pregnant before even she had.

Gale narrowed his eyes at the cat. “I am not being ridiculous. I am being responsible.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Tara countered, stretching lazily. “She’s fine.”

“I will not take health advice from a creature that cleans itself with its own tongue.”

Oreilla bit back a laugh, watching as her husband and their ever-opinionated cat bickered like old rivals. It was absurd, truly, how much they fussed over her. And yet, as she watched Gale puff up in indignant frustration while Tara flicked her tail smugly, she felt warmth bloom in her chest.

She was loved.

Utterly, completely, overwhelmingly loved.

Sighing, she set her book aside and stood, making her way over to her fretting husband. Immediately, his hands found her waist, steadying her as though she were liable to collapse at any moment.

She cupped his face, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips, smiling as she felt him melt under her touch. “Gale,” she murmured, “I promise you, I am fine. The baby is fine. And as much as I adore how much you care for me… you need to breathe, my love.”

His shoulders sagged slightly, though he still looked unconvinced. “I just… I need to be sure,” he admitted, voice soft. “I’ve lost too much, Oreilla. I won’t— I can’t lose you.”

Her heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. She kissed him again, slower this time, letting her fingers thread through his hair. “You won’t,” she whispered. “We’re here, together. And we will be alright.”

Gale exhaled, resting his forehead against hers. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“You should still come inside.”

Oreilla groaned. Tara let out an exasperated meow. And, despite it all, she laughed, pulling her stubborn, wonderful husband back inside—because, ridiculous as he was, she loved him all the same.