Chapter Text
In the morning Gale was assigned his first set of duties. He was to clean and swab the deck, something that was both very easy in theory but also very physically demanding. He could minimize some of the labor of hauling up buckets of sea water by simply using magic to create it, but the physical motion needed to scrub at the planks was not something he could get out of easily. The brightness of the sun continued to be a problem again, shining in his eyes as it reflected off of the wet wood.
“Is the sun bothering you?”
Minthara had walked up behind him, startling him with her silent approach. He stood from his crouched position and wiped his brow with a shirt sleeve. “I think my eyes are not meant for being outside this much.”
“I know the feeling,” Minthara responded. Her voice had a softness to it that he had not heard the day before, “I am from a place where the sun never shines. Adjusting to so much light was hard for me as well. I have something that can help, if you are interested?” Gale nodded. “Stay still for me.”
She waved her hands over his face, a soft purplish glow emanating from her fingertips. A sudden darkness filled his vision and he felt a momentary spike of anxiety before his eyes adjusted and he realized he could see perfectly fine. The light of the sun had just been dimmed, as though a dense cloud had moved in front of it.
“You can turn the enchantment on and off at will,” she continued, and showed Gale a specific hand motion to achieve this effect.
“Thank you,” Gale replied. Minthara did not smile, per se, but Gale thought he could see the corners of her mouth twitch just the slightest bit upward.
“There are a not insignificant number of us on this ship sensitive to the sun,” she said, not explaining any further. She then left wordlessly, leaving Gale to wonder who she may be talking about. Probably just the other drow that he had seen.
The day passed without much further excitement. The Night Stalker sailed on fair winds without encountering any other vessels and the sky remained clear and bright. Gale busied himself with his duties and on not making too much of a stir. That night the crew gathered for what he would come to learn were commonly held gatherings to drink and make merry. There was no occasion to be celebrated other than their continued existence, but that was a good enough reason for Gale. The years he had spent alone in his tower by the sea had left him starved of sufficient social interaction, especially in the form of parties.
He sat on a crate that was strapped down to the main deck, a small tin cup of rum in his hand. He sipped at it delicately, not one to drink that much or that often. Next to him sat Karlach, who was not taking the same approach at all. She had been nursing an entire bottle of the same rum for a while now, draining it nearly halfway so far, and was singing along to the music of the ship’s bard.
The bard—a tiefling woman dripping in colorful adornments named Alfira—was currently playing a lute and singing a shanty dedicated to Umberlee. It was one he had heard many times before in Waterdeep, and despite the slight discomfort he felt listening to something dedicated to the goddess who had caused him so much harm, the familiarity and nostalgia of the tune was comforting.
Wavemother, wavemother,
Lash us to the prow.
Wavemother, wavemother,
We ask to sail your skirt if you allow.
Wavemother, wavemother,
Sink us if you will.
Wavemother, wavemother,
Our skulls are yours
With brine and sand to fill.
“Damn, I hope my skull isn’t gonna be filled with brine,” Karlach slurred from beside him, “I already—hic—got a heart full of coral.”
Gale turned towards her and tilted his head in a silent question. Karlach thumped her chest with her fist. Below her linen shirt he could see a faint bluish glow. “I used to be part of Enver Gortash’s crew, the absolute bastard,” she explained. That did not explain much at all.
“Who?” Gale asked. Karlach gave him a sideways glance.
“Has no one explained anything to you, mate?” she replied. Gale shook his head and Karlach scoffed. She adjusted her body to face more towards Gale, almost tipping over in the process. She leaned forward and waved the hand not holding the bottle around in front of her while she talked.
“Gortash. Captain of the Steel Watch,” she spat, throwing back another pull of rum, “He’s one of Cazador’s admirals. One of three.”
“Captain Astarion mentioned Cazador yesterday,” Gale replied, “But I had never heard of him before then.”
“A motherf*cker is who he is. Cap’n and him got some history,” she continued, “None of us know why but he hates the son of a bitch. Prob’ly something to do with ‘em both being bloodsuckers.”
“Excuse me?” Gale asked. Karlach threw her head back and laughed. She gestured over to the other side of the main deck where the Captain was. He and Shadowheart were lounging on a wooden bench that had been brought above deck for the event. Glimmering torchlight danced over Astarion’s face, throwing shadows across his skin that morphed between sharp angles and soft curves.
“Nobody told you nothing, eh, magic man?” she laughed, “Cap’n Astarion is a vampire, same as Cazador.”
“What,” Gale replied, feeling his heart rate spike, “Gods, that is, uh…surprising to hear, to say the least. How does he manage to stay in the sun, if he is so afflicted? I was under the impression that vampires would burn if exposed.”
“Beats me, mate,” Karlach continued, “Anyway, doesn’t matter. We’d be hunting down Cazador either way. Man is a lunatic and everyone here has a reason to hate him or his admirals. Like f*cking Gortash,” She made a disgusted face and took a long drink from her bottle. Gale motioned for her to continue, his heart rate now returning back to normal. She leaned forward to rest her forearms on her knees. “Cazador’s ship, The Rhapsody, is the flagship for his fleet. Most of ‘em are just hired guns but a handful are loyal followers. His three admirals—Orin, Ketheric, Gortash, would die for him. Will die for him.”
“If I may ask,” Gale said, keeping his tone gentle, “Why do you hate him so much?” Karlach sighed.
“I was his cabin girl when I was a kid,” she responded, “Back when his crew was normal and not a bunch of metal monster motherf*ckers like it is now. I did everything for him. I looked up to the f*cker, too. Fancied the idea of being his First Mate when I grew up. Until one day when the bastard decided to sacrifice all of us—the whole crew—to the gods for some sort of weapon. He cut us down one by one and threw us overboard.”
“Karlach…” Gale murmured.
“My whole crew, dead,” she continued, “Except me. I survived when he tried stabbing my heart. Must have just missed the mark, the idiot. I went overboard with the rest of them, only I was still alive. Barely.”
She paused for a moment, staring at the small group of crewmembers who had taken to dancing to Alfira’s music. The bard was singing a lively tune about drinking too much alcohol. Appropriate for the gathering, but Karlach just frowned.
“I was determined not to die. I cried out for help, thrashed in the water, swore vengeance on Gortash no matter what it took. And then…everything went still. I thought I had died, but then I heard this voice in my head. Asking what I was willing to sacrifice to survive.” Karlach took a heaving breath. “It was the Bitch Queen, offering me a deal.”
Gale reached out his hand to place on her shoulder, both as emotional support and to stop her from gently swaying back and forth in her increasing drunkenness. He was surprised to feel that she was cold to the touch. Very cold to the touch, as if she was made of ice. Karlach flinched backwards and pointed to the blue glow of her chest.
“She didn’t mention that ‘living’ meant replacing my heart with a magical one made of seagrass and coral. But here we are.” She dropped her hand and looked to Gale for a reaction. He tried to hide his surprise and nodded slowly.
“You feel…cold. Is that part of it?” he asked gently.
“Yeah” she sighed, “I am forever tied to the sea, now…and the sea can be a very cold place.”
“I’m so sorry, Karlach,” he said softly.
“Thanks,” she replied. She gave him a sheepish smile and returned her gaze to Alfira.
Gale sat for a moment, considering his next words carefully. He almost never talked about his orb, especially not with people he barely knew, but something in this moment made it feel right to share, whether that was his crewmate’s own show of vulnerability or the rum that was starting to make him feel a bit floaty. He reached up and pulled down the collar of his shirt, revealing the upper most edges of the orb’s swirling blue scars.
“Umberlee left her mark on me too,” he murmured. Karlach’s eyes widened and she reached out slowly, looking to him for permission. Gale nodded and she ran her icy fingers over the marks, tracing the wave-like pattern. Gale suppressed a shiver and continued. “I was her…um. I was special to her once. Until I wasn’t. She left me with this mark as punishment..”
“Bloody hells,” Karlach whispered.
As she continued to inspect it, Gale turned to see if anyone was looking. The presence of his orb was not something he wanted to broadcast. Luckily everyone seemed too preoccupied with the festivities as he looked over the crowd… then he caught sight of Astarion. The elven captain was staring straight at him, or rather, staring straight at his chest. Gale quickly let go of his collar and Karlach withdrew her hand. He could see Astarion look away and lean over to say something into Shadowheart’s ear. Gale rubbed at the fabric of his shirt with a frown. Perhaps in the dim light Astarion had not seen too much.
“Well we have something in common, then,” Karlach said, “That’s nice. Well, I mean, the pain part isn’t nice. But the having something in common part…yeah.”
And it was nice, to finally know someone who had been hurt by the Bitch Queen directly, and in such a similar way, at that. Gale and Karlach fell back into silence, listening to Alfira and sipping at their drinks until long after the sun had sipped below the line where the sea met the sky.
A few days later, as Gale sat at a small table in the galley helping Withers peel vegetables for that night’s supper, the First Mate poked her head through the entrance archway and gestured for Gale to follow her.
“Please, come with me so that I may show you something,” Shadowheart said, already turning to leave.
Gale bid goodbye to Withers who grumbled something about “finishing the skinning of all these wretched potatoes alone” and followed Shadowheart up the dining hall stairs, across one of the mid-decks where various crew members were carrying out their duties, and up onto the main deck. Without breaking step, Shadowheart continued until she reached the edge of the quarterdeck where the closed entrance to the private quarters and meeting rooms for crewmembers of rank stood. She entered the imposing door, which was both larger and more ornately decorated than any Gale had seen elsewhere on the ship. Carvings of mermaids with flowing hair arched over the richly-stained wooden door, which itself was carved with roiling waves inlaid with small bits of mother of pearl to represent frothing sea foam. Past the door was a short hallway which branched off into several other doors. Shadowheart entered one and turned to check if Gale was still following her. He hesitated, unsure. Was the First Mate bringing him to her private quarters? Ahead, Shadowheart waved for him to come in with a small smirk peaking her lips.
As he stepped inside he found himself in a small antechamber with a settee and a plush looking armchair. Beyond that, an open door frame led to what appeared to indeed be Shadowheart’s personal bedchamber. In the center was her bed, larger than the ones in the crew quarters and covered in rich looking blankets. Wardrobes and cabinets lined one wall and against the other stood an extensive vanity table covered in small bottles and phials.
A blush began to creep into Gale’s cheeks. Why had Shadowheart brought him here?
“Don’t get too excited, stallion,” she laughed, noticing his nervousness, “Your visit today is not for pleasure. Wait here a moment.”
She walked across the room to a locked chest, leaving Gale to stare awkwardly at a small oil painting of a sea serpent that hung next to him above the armchair. After a moment, Shadowheart returned, holding something small tucked between her palms. She gestured for Gale to sit on the settee and then settled beside him. She held out the item she had brought, allowing Gale to get a proper look for the first time.
It appeared to be a pocket watch. Gale was surprised by how plain it looked in comparison to everything else he had seen in her quarters. It was basic brass—no engravings or etchings were visible—and it was quite scuffed around the edges. Shadowheart gently opened it, and Gale saw that the inside was similarly unadorned and shabby. Some of the numerals had been nearly rubbed off. The hands of the clock stood still, unmoving.
“This is quite precious to me,” Shadowheart said softly, rubbing her thumb over the clock face, “I have had it for as long as I can remember but I have never known it to work. I have tried to see if I could fix it myself, but I had no idea what I was looking at, and I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving it with a clockmaker on land for any amount of time for it to be repaired. When I learned of your magic I thought you might be able to help. The job fixing the oven for Withers was meant to be a test of your skills.”
Gale gently took the watch into his hands and turned in to look at the back. It was just as scuffed at the front, and a large gash in the brass ran across one edge. He ran his thumb over the tarnished metal and nodded. He balanced it in one palm and raised his other hand to cast Mend for what felt like the hundredth time in recent days. He could feel the spell energy flow from his fingertips but was surprised to see nothing happen. The watch sat unchanged.
“Everything okay?” Shadowheart asked, leaning forward to get a better look. Gale frowned.
“Highly unusual,” he muttered as he held the watch up higher for closer inspection. It appeared to be a normal watch, but as he brought it nearer to his face and focused his senses he caught the slightest waft of a distinctly familiar smell. “Ah,” he stated as he held it back out for Shadowheart to take, “It may look plain but it holds a curse that is preventing the Mend spell from taking effect. Can I ask where you got this?”
Shadowheart looked surprised. She took the watch back and ran her own fingers delicately over the surface. “As I said, I have had it for as long as I remember.”
Gale nodded and responded in gentle tones. “Any information you can tell me might be helpful in removing the curse.” Shadowheart sighed and tilted her head to stare down at her own feet.
“When I was a child I almost died. I was at sea, on a voyage I do not remember. We capsized suddenly and everyone aboard was lost. Everyone except me.” She paused, looking up to meet Gale’s eyes, “For some reason, Umberlee saved me from drowning when she did not save anyone else. That was when the Wavemothers at the temple to Umberlee in Baldur’s Gate took me in. They believed me to be blessed by the Queen of the Sea and I was inducted into their ranks then and there. I do not remember anything from before the shipwreck, whether that be from head trauma or the divine intervention of my goddess I cannot say, but it matters not. I have served her dutifully since that day. But…this watch. It was on me when I fell under the waves. I must have owned it before the wreckage. The Wavemothers allowed me to keep it, thinking it a practical item to have. I admit I have a somewhat more sentimental reason for wanting to hold onto it, however. I do not envy the life I must have lived before my life of service to Umberlee, but I sometimes feel as though I have…lost a part of myself to the sea.”
Gale felt a pit grow in his stomach. It seemed this poor woman lived only to serve the Bitch Queen and had since she was a child. It was a life he knew all too well, and a sudden resolve to help her filled him.
“Well clearly I cannot simply Mend it,” he said, “It requires a more complex solution. But I will find a way to remove the curse and fix it for you regardless. You deserve to reclaim that part of yourself from the sea.”
He did not mention how closely that sentiment applied to himself as well. She smiled and nodded.
“But I think I might need more information,” Gale said, “I do not know much about breaking this type of curse. If there was a way for me to access a library I might be able to learn what I need to in order to help you.”
“Well I don’t know about a library,” Shadowheart replied, “But I know Tormalta has a bookstore absolutely brimming with forbidden knowledge.”
Gale had heard of Tormalta. It was a city that sprawled across several small remote islands. A lawless place, not ruled by any one country or state, which made it perfect for pirates and every other type of unsavory individual to do business. He had never dreamed of going to such a place, but it made sense for a location that would contain such books. His mouth practically began to salivate at the thought of how much he could learn there, both for Shadowheart and for his own endeavors.
“It sounds perfect,” he said, “when can we go?”
Shadowheart smiled, her expression turning more coy. “That depends, Mr. Dekarios, how forthcoming you are willing to be.”
“Excuse me?” he asked.
“Please take off your shirt,” she stated calmly.
“I thought you said—”
“Not for pleasure,” she said, cutting him off, “I will be honest with you. The other night at the celebration, the Captain caught sight of the markings on your chest. They seem very familiar to me, and I am concerned about what you may be hiding. Please, if you will.” She gestured to his chest.
Gale’s heart rate picked up but he obliged, pulling the shirt off over his head. There was no point in trying to deny it.
“By the Wavemother,” Shadowheart whispered, “What is that?”
Gale swallowed hard and took a steadying breath. “I told you when you took me in that I was seeking answers,” he replied, “This mark is the reason I seek them. I intend to find a way to remove it and the pain that it causes me.”
“It pains you?” she asked softly.
“Yes,” he responded. His hand came up unconsciously to rub at the ache, “Although most of the time it is manageable. It spikes sometimes, though, seemingly randomly. I have not been able to figure out a pattern.” Shadowheart hummed in acknowledgement.
“May I?” she asked, holding out a hand to hover it over Gale’s chest. He nodded. She started by simply feeling the scars, her fingertips soft and warm unlike Karlach’s. Then her hands began to glow with a soft teal light and he felt a wash of healing magic course over him, tingling through his nerve endings.
“Ah, um, thank you,” he stated, “But trust me, I have sought out many healers already. Nothing has worked so far.” Shadowheart dropped her hands.
“And how did you receive such an intricate scar?” she asked. Gale hesitated, anticipating that she might not like the answer.
“Umberlee smote me,” he muttered.
Shadowheart leapt to her feet, staring at him with wide eyes. “And for what reason, pray tell, did Our Lady of the Sea have to bestow such a…a curse upon you?”
Gale held up his hands in a motion of peace, staying seated. “Nothing nefarious, I assure you. You know the Bitch Queen well. You know that there are times where her whims become chaotic. I was once in her favor and then I fell out of it. She punished me simply because she no longer liked me.”
Shadowheart stayed standing. “Be that as it may,” she stated, “I do not think it a good idea to have someone outcast by the Wavemother aboard this ship. It puts us all at risk.”
Gale’s stomach sank. Of course. This was bound to have happened and he was a fool if he ever thought otherwise. He clenched his jaw and let out a long, slow, silent breath, thoughts spinning.
But then Shadowheart was gesturing towards the door. “Come with me at once.”
Gale did, unsure what else he could do, and she led him not back out onto the main deck as he suspected she would (to throw him overboard or worse), but farther down the hallway to the largest door at the end. She knocked thrice and waited. After a moment the door cracked open and the face of the Captain appeared.
“Yes?” he asked. He sounded tired.
“We need to come in, Captain,” Shadowheart said, gesturing to Gale standing behind her, “It’s urgent.” Astarion tilted his head in intrigue and opened the door fully to allow them to enter.
When he stepped inside, his senses were assaulted from all directions. In front of him was a grand stateroom dripping in opulence. The walls were barely visible; instead, they were covered by all manner of tapestries, maps, diagrams, velvet curtains, rich oil paintings, and hanging bouquets of dried flowers. Carved, darkly stained furniture filled the room. A curio cabinet filled with swirling magical items and trinkets sat against a wall. In the center of the room stood a large wardesk covered with maps, sextants, and small carved wooden ships. There was another closed door at the back of the room. It smelled different too—pleasant, and rich, but Gale did not recognize the scent.
“Please, sit,” Astarion said, gesturing to a series of chairs gathered around the wardesk. Gale dropped into an available seat desk and inelegantly tucked his hands under his thighs to stop his fingers from shaking. Astarion sat down across from him.
“Tell me Shadowheart, why exactly have you joined us today, then?” he asked. Shadowheart took a seat alongside Astarion and leveled a withering look at Gale.
“Our newest crew member has a secret,” she explained, her tone neutral, “I will give him the chance to tell you himself, first.”
Gale took a moment to respond, feeling paralyzed under the intense state of the Captain. “W-Well, I…um,” he removed one hand from underneath him to pull the collar of his shirt down, revealing the top edges of the orb, “Apparently you saw this a few nights ago. The First Mate asked me about it just now and…it is a scar given to me by Umberlee.”
Astarion sucked a breath in through his nose. “And why, sailor, did the Bitch Queen deem it necessary to mutilate you in such a way?” he asked. Gale bit his lip and considered his next words carefully.
“I was once highly regarded by her. I showed great magical potential as a child, you see. I technically began my life as a sorcerer. For as long as I can remember I have been able to command certain elements to my will. Namely those related to water, storms, and the sea…Umberlee learned of me, somehow. I think she saw me as a natural fit for her, someone who could easily be molded to be her champion.”
“Champion?” Shadowheart repeated. Gale nodded sheepishly.
“I may have started with some latent talent but my true mastery of magic came through study. I spent the entirety of my childhood and young adult life honing my skills under the watchful eye of the goddess. When I was old enough she…ah, took interest in me further.” Astarion lifted an eyebrow at his emphasis but Shadowheart did not seem to notice.
“She brought me to see her in her realm,” Gale continued, “She was glorious and terrifying in the flesh. We met regularly, for a while, and then one day she decided I had been molded enough to her liking. She declared me her Chosen.”
Shadowheart leaned forward with a gasp, her eyes wide. “Her Chosen? But the Wavemother so rarely choses one, and never from terrestrial races. And I certainly have never heard of you before now.”
“I was an exception, I suppose,” Gale responded with a shrug, “And I was not Chosen for very long so I am not surprised the news of my existence did not reach all of her congregation. Very soon after she chose me she cast me out.”
“But why?” Shadowheart asked. Her voice was strained in a way that made Gale wonder if her reason for asking was not entirely about him.
“Umberlee is chaotic and cruel,” he replied, “And her desires change just as easily as the tide. She wanted me, as her champion, to participate in actions which I ultimately was not comfortable with. My goal was never to wield viscous retribution, especially not against those whose crime was simply that they did not dump enough gold over the edge of their ships.” Shadowheart leaned back to a neutral position, her eyebrows furrowed.
“What happened then?” Astarion asked. He stare bore into Gale, reddish eyes piercing him with their intensity. Gale felt a blush rising in his cheeks and he cleared his throat before continuing.
“She was upset with my defiance. She called me to her side and accused me of using her for her power. The reality was much the opposite, but she was not willing to hear such an argument and took my assertion as such as an attack against her.” Gale paused to take a steadying breath and continued. “I remember…a flash, like lightning, and then I was tumbling through inky darkness, being thrashed around like I was caught in the strongest of undertows. I felt a sudden searing pain shoot through me, like ice water rushing through my veins. It lasted for…I don’t know. Minutes? Hours? Eventually it concentrated in my chest and I blacked out, I think, because the next thing I knew I was washing up on a rocky beach with this orb above my heart. It has been my mission since that day to understand what happened to me and see if I might find a way to reverse the damage.”
“You cannot reverse it,” Shadowheart spat, standing and pointing a finger at Gale, “Or rather you should not. If Umberlee saw fit to curse you in such a way then it is your burden now to bear.”
Astarion scoffed. “Now, now, Shadowheart let us not blame the victim for the wrath of a more powerful being,” he responded, “You know how such things bother me.” The First Mate huffed and lowered herself back to her seat, crossing her arms. “I am sorry that happened to you, Dekarios,” Astarion continued, “I must ask, though. How is it that you are able to be at sea so peacefully? Surely Umberlee would not be pleased to have you back in her domain.”
“I suppose the curse she left on me was punishment enough,” Gale sighed, “She found a way to hurt me no matter where I am, on land or not, and sending me to drown in the depths at the first opportunity would only end my suffering prematurely.”
“So you do not endanger us simply with your presence,” Astarion responded, “That is good. And Shadowheart,” he turned towards the First Mate, placing a hand on her forearm gently, “I know it will not please you to hear, but I think Gale’s presence aboard the Night Stalker might actually be a good thing. It might, paradoxically, protect us from Umberlee’s whims.”
Hearing the Captain use his given name sent a shiver through Gale’s chest and he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Shadowheart did not respond but seemed to relax a bit in her posture.
“I assure you, my intentions have never been to disrupt your voyage,” Gale explained, “Although I admit I do not know all that much of what those intentions are. But from what I understand, having picked up pieces here and there from the crew, at least, your goals are agreeable.”
Astarion laughed and Gale felt his face redden again. “I am glad to hear that,” Astarion replied, “I would never want a member of my pirate crew to feel that our goals were not ‘agreeable’.”
“You may stay, then,” Shadowheart conceded, “Assuming it pleases the Captain.”
Astarion returned his gaze to Gale and murmured, “Oh, it does please me.”
Another wave of something crashed through Gale’s chest and a bit…lower.
“Fine then,” Shadowheart continued, “Well in that case, I have a request, Captain. Before the news about Umberlee, Gale had agreed to try to fix my watch—you know the one. His Mending spell did not work and he recognized that it has been cursed, which I did not know before. The reason why Gale was able to recognize a curse so easily now sets my teeth on edge, but it was a useful discovery all the same. Gale believes he can lift the curse but requires he access to proper research.”
“I see,” Astarion replied, “Well then we must acquire him the ability to conduct such research. Tell me, Shadowheart, when was the last time we indulged in the libations available at The Underdark?”
Shadowheart laughed, surprisingly. “At least a month, Captain.”
“Far too long, then,” Astarion replied with a smirk, “We set sail for Tormalta, then.”
“Yes, Captain,” Shadowheart said as she stood, “I will inform the crew.” Astarion held out a hand as Gale began to stand as well.
“Please, Dekarios, stay back a moment. I wanted to ask you something else,” he said, waving off Shadowheart when she began to protest. “It is fine, First Mate, please continue what you were leaving to do.” She nodded, shooting Gale a final glare before leaving. As much as she had conceded to his presence, she clearly still held no fondness for him. Once she was gone, Astarion turned back towards Gale. “Your accent,” he eventually said, “Are you from Waterdeep?”
“Yes. I was born there and have spent the majority of my life there,” Gale answered.
“They celebrate Umberlee in Waterdeep, do they not?” Astarion asked. Gale nodded.
“It is part of our identity as a city,” he explained, “Our temple to her, the Queenspire, is renowned. And every year we hold the Fair Seas Festival in her honor, where the city raises the dock fees and we throw the excess gold collected into the Waterdhavian harbor.”
Astarion snorted. “That does not sound like much of a celebration, losing your valuables like that.”
“It is necessary,” Gale explained, “When you live in a place so directly on the water, of the water, really, you must obey the laws of the sea even when not on a voyage. Waterdeep honors Umberlee because if we do not then we will be met with her wrath.”
Astarion sighed and nodded. “And what do you think of the Bitch Queen these days, Gale?”
Gale considered the question for a moment before responding, “As I said, honoring her is important.” Astarion quirked an eyebrow.
“From how you phrased it a few moments ago, it seems there may have been a piece of your story that you left out. Perhaps one where you were taken to honoring her in a different sort of way,” he murmured, his tone growing an edge of something soft and, if Gale was not mistaken, sultry.
“Well, I…um,” Gale replied, his blush from earlier returning, “If I am honest, Captain, yes. When Umberlee made me her Chosen I had already been her, ah…consort, if you will, for some time.”
“Her consort?” Astarion asked with a smirk.
“Her lover,” Gale replied in a near-whisper.
Astarion did not respond right away. Gale was almost sure he saw the King’s eyes dart downward toward Gale’s lips for a fraction of a second…but it might have been wishful thinking. After a moment he responded. “And how was it, sailor, to bed a goddess?”
“Incredible,” Gale responded honestly, “and terrifying.”
Astarion nodded but then something unpleasant washed over his face and he frowned, “Except…did you not say that she had taken an interest in you since you were a child?”
“I was not a child when I became her lover,” Gale reassured.
“No but…she was in your life when you were. Was it not then…inappropriate? Exploitative, even?” Astarion asked. He stood, beginning to pace beside the desk.
Gale held out a hand towards him, intending to placate, “I assure you, Captain, it was my choice to accept her attention.” Astarion huffed and shook his head.
“I know what it is like to not be in control of your own life,” he snapped, suddenly turning to face Gale again, “and while I do not mean to tell you what you did or did not choose, I am telling you that I believe it was not okay what happened to you.”
Gale opened his mouth to respond but closed it again when nothing came out. He had honestly never considered the idea. Umberlee had never expressed anything untoward when he was young, he thought, but then again she had seen him grow and, well…she had not hesitated to proposition him once he was of age.
“Captain…” Gale began softly, “I…I am sorry. I did not mean to upset you.”
Astarion made a dismissive gesture and walked towards the door leading back to the main deck. He opened it and stood, holding it.
“You did nothing of the sort,” he said curtly, “But you are dismissed. I need time to think.”
Gale stood and walked awkwardly to the door. There was a moment as he passed by Astarion in which he came quite close to the Captain's side, close enough that Gale was able to catch a stronger waft of the intoxicating scent that had been softly filling the room. The moment was over too soon, however, as Astarion held the door for Gale to exit and then promptly shut it as soon as he had crossed the threshold. Gale stood for a moment in the hallway before exiting back to the main deck, the scent lingering in his nose.
