Chapter Text
Waterdeep was calm at this hour — lanternlight flickering in gentle amber tones across the cobblestone path. Their footsteps echoed in an easy rhythm.
Gale walked close enough that their sleeves brushed.
Onser didn’t move away.
Neither spoke at first. It wasn’t awkward — it was new. Quiet. Full of a nervous pull neither dared name yet.
Halfway there, Gale exhaled softly.
“She likes you.”
Onser glanced over. “Your mother?”
“Yes.”
Onser nodded. “I like her as well. She is kind. And strong. Like you.”
Gale looked away, suddenly shy.
“You’re… unexpectedly smooth with words.”
Onser blinked. “I am only speaking the truth.”
Gale’s heart nearly melted into the street.
When they pushed open the heavy door to the lobby, Kursk the half-orc manager looked up from the front desk.
His brows shot straight up.
“Well,” he grinned, tusks glinting, “look who’s back — and not alone.”
Onser stiffened. “This is Gale. We are—talking.”
“Talking,” Kursk echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Sure.”
Gale turned red.
Onser looked confused.
Kursk looked delighted.
“Good evening to you both,” the half-orc said, voice warm. “Your room’s ready, Winters. Fire’s already lit. I figured you’d return soon.”
Onser frowned politely. “How did you know?”
Kursk gestured vaguely at Onser’s entire existence. “You look like a man who keeps his promises.”
Gale’s breath caught.
Onser’s eyes flickered down.
“…I do,” he said quietly.
Kursk winked. “Then enjoy your night, gentlemen.”
Gale choked on air.
Onser’s wings twitched under his coat.
Kursk was definitely doing this on purpose.
But they headed up the stairs together anyway — slow, side by side, their shoulders almost touching.
And when they reached the top floor, Gale hesitated only a moment before whispering:
“Can I… come in?”
Onser’s answer was immediate.
“Yes.”
Soft.
Steady.
Warm.
The door to the luxurious room opened once more — this time with both of them stepping into the glow of firelight and moonlit stained glass.
Together.
The door shut with a quiet click behind them, sealing the two of them inside the warm, firelit room. The stained-glass moonlight washed soft blues and purples across the stone floor, the luxurious bedspread, the armour stand.
Gale stepped in slowly, almost reverently — this time not overwhelmed, not alarmed, but simply… present. Comfortable.
Onser moved first, crossing toward the small cabinet by the hearth.
“I… have tea,” he offered, voice dipping low with nerves.
“The inn provided a set.”
Gale smiled. “Tea would be lovely.”
It steadied Onser enough to move.
He lit the kettle with a small spark of magic.
The faint scent of roseleaf and mint began to fill the room.
But his hands…
His hands were trembling.
Just a little.
Just enough for Gale to quietly notice.
Gale stepped closer. “Onser… is something wrong?”
Onser froze.
Not from fear.
Not from panic.
From memory.
Han’s voice echoed in the back of his mind — the last thing she told him before he boarded the ship in Baldur’s Gate:
“Be honest with him.
Tell him fully how you feel.
You might be surprised by what you get back.”
He had shrugged it off then, pretending he wasn’t terrified.
But now?
Now Gale stood in his room.
Warm. Alive.
Looking at him like he was something worth waiting for.
Nine months.
Nine long months.
Nine months of silence.
Nine months of fear.
Nine months of waking up every day wondering if Gale was sick, hurt, dead, gone forever.
Nine months of trying not to think about the last smile Gale gave him before chasing the Crown.
The feelings didn’t go away.
They got worse.
Stronger.
And tonight—
seeing Gale here—
laughing, blushing, flustered, warm—
those feelings surged so hard he could barely breathe.
Onser shut his eyes.
Took one deep breath.
And turned to face him.
“Gale,” he began quietly.
But the quiet shook.
Gale’s smile faltered. “Onser?”
“I need to speak,” Onser said, voice roughening with emotion he couldn’t swallow anymore. “Before I lose the courage.”
He stepped closer — not looming, not intimidating, but open in a way he never allowed himself to be.
His wings shifted beneath the coat.
His throat bobbed.
“I looked for you,” he said.
Low.
Painful.
Honest.
Gale’s breath caught.
“For months,” Onser continued.
“Every day. Every night. When the Order needed me… when the city needed me… when
Han told me to rest… I still looked.”
Gale’s hand flew to his mouth. “Onser—”
“I did not sleep,” he confessed. “I barely ate. I—”
His voice broke.
“I feared the worst. That you… left us. Left me. Forever.”
Gale stepped closer, eyes shining. “Onser… I didn’t know— I never meant—”
Onser shook his head. “You are not at fault. You were searching for your path. But I…”
His breath trembled as he finally stepped into Gale’s space.
“I missed you. More than I should have. More than I thought I was capable of.”
Gale’s heart slammed against his ribs.
Onser swallowed, the rawness in his voice impossible to hide.
“I care for you,” he whispered. “Deeply. Painfully. It felt like it has been—years for me, Gale. Not months.”
Gale blinked. “Years?”
“Yes,” Onser said, relief and fear rushing in the same breath.
“I knew it back at the camp. And when you left… the silence burned.”
His eyes softened, like a storm easing.
“And now you’re here again. And I cannot pretend anymore.”
Gale lifted a trembling hand to Onser’s cheek.
The tiefling leaned into it — barely, but enough.
“Onser…” Gale whispered, voice cracked open.
Onser dropped the last of his defenses.
“I love you,” he said simply. “I have loved you for longer than I understand.”
The kettle whistled softly behind them.
Neither of them heard it.
Gale’s breath shuddered out of him — not in fear, but in something bright, overwhelming, and unbearably tender.
He stepped fully into Onser’s arms.
“Then let me say it back,” Gale whispered against his chest.
“Because I never stopped loving you either.”
Onser’s wings unfolded slowly — not explosive, not startled — but in a broad, gentle arc that wrapped behind Gale like a shield.
Not instinct.
Not fear.
Comfort.
Claim.
Relief.
And Gale melted into him completely.
Tea forgotten.
Fire crackling.
Nine months of silence end in one moment of truth.
Onser held him — finally, fully — like he’d been waiting lifetimes to do it.
Gale stayed pressed into Onser’s chest for a long, trembling heartbeat — listening to the slow thunder of the tiefling’s pulse, feeling the warmth radiating through the coat, the careful way Onser held him like something precious and breakable.
When he finally tilted his head up, Onser was already looking down.
Storm-lit eyes.
Soft.
Open.
Unshielded in a way that almost hurt to see.
Gale’s voice was barely a whisper.
“…Onser.”
Onser swallowed hard. “Yes?”
“This is the part,” Gale murmured, cheeks flushing, “where you’re supposed to kiss me.”
Onser blinked once — slow, stunned — and something in him cracked open.
He lifted one hand, almost hesitating, brushing his thumb across Gale’s cheek as though afraid he’d disappear again.
Gale leaned into it.
That was all it took.
Onser lowered his head.
Their lips met.
Not rushed.
Not messy.
Not desperate.
Soft.
Warm.
Like finally letting breath escape after months of holding it in.
Gale exhaled against him, hands sliding up Onser’s chest, fingers tangling in the fabric near his collar. Onser trembled — actually trembled — as he cupped Gale’s jaw with both hands and deepened the kiss by a fraction.
The room seemed to glow a little brighter.
The fire crackled softly.
The stained-glass moonlight turned the air silver-blue.
Onser’s wings opened just slightly behind him, wrapping in a protective crescent around Gale without touching — a silent instinct that said:
Mine.
Safe.
Stay.
Gale broke the kiss only long enough to breathe a shaky laugh.
“You kiss like someone who’s been waiting a long time,” he whispered.
Onser’s forehead rested against Gale’s. “I have.”
Gale kissed him again — firmer this time, more sure — and Onser melted into it, one hand sliding to the back of Gale’s neck, gentler than such a massive man should be capable of.
When they finally parted again, breathing uneven, Gale reached up to trace the faint markings along Onser’s cheek.
“Should we… sit?” Gale whispered, voice soft and shy in a way Onser adored.
“Yes,” Onser murmured, “but I do not wish to let go yet.”
Gale smiled — the first truly relaxed smile he’d worn all night. “Then don’t.”
So Onser didn’t.
They moved toward the bed slowly, still touching — Gale guiding Onser by the front of his coat, Onser keeping one hand at the small of Gale’s back as though he needed to feel the wizard breathing.
The bed dipped as they sat.
Then lay back.
Then shifted closer.
Lips met again — deeper now, fuller.
Hands explored familiar places like they were new — jaw, shoulder, hair.
Gale’s fingers slid into Onser’s bun, loosening it until waves of ebony hair spilled down his back.
Onser made a low, half-choked sound Gale had never heard from him before.
“Sorry,” Gale whispered.
“Do not apologize,” Onser whispered back.
They kissed again, and again, and again — slow, warm, discovering each other at a tender pace neither wanted to rush.
Both were engrossed in each other's company, forgetting the world around them. Onser slowly positions himself on top of the smaller man, bringing his knee down between Gale’s legs and spreading them apart.
Temperatures run hot as the pair get more aggressive, leaning into each other, hands running wild along each other’s bodies. The kisses become even more messy with all tongue and some teeth involved. Onser slowly goes from Gale’s jaw back to his neck placing little marks along the way.
Gale is on cloud nine as his sighs get increasingly more needy once Onser gets to his chest. He tugs on it asking for permission to slip it off, Gale nods frantically as he takes his own shirt and throws it across the room to be forgotten about.
As both were taking a moment to regain their breath, Gale uses his own weight to roll over his lover, turning the tides against the tiefling, catching him by surprise. The poor giant man is now stunned and definitely bricked, he’s never been man handled and he’s definitely not complaining about it, having a sweaty hot wizard boyfriend definitely comes in handy in these situations. Gale starts kissing Onser’s refined jaw during which he manages to anchor the tieflings hands above his head before summoning two mage hands, Onser is in absolute bliss, hands roaming his body, exploring every inch. He’s never felt this in his entire life. Sure, he had some knowledge, but he’d never imagined it would be this type of ecstasy. Sweaty beads start to form on his forehead.
Now Onser’s shirt was now discarded and thrown away to the pile of clothes slowly forming in the corner of the room. Suddenly, the mage hands take the wizards place and firmly, but gently, grip the paladin’s wrists. Gale guides his now free hands to the hem of his boyfriend’s pants, sliding them off with shocking ease. Onser looks up in surprise, not knowing what will come next, only to see the devilish grin plastered on the other’s face.
Gale mutters a few words under his breath, magic which is completely lost on his love and in a flash, Periwinkle (yes we named Onser’s undies) vanishes.
The wizard slowly runs his fingers along Onser’s shaft, teasing the poor tiefling, who’s surprisingly enjoying it more than he expected he would. Gale gently closes his fingers around it and lowers his head, stopping to meet Onser’s gaze, then carefully licks the very tip. Onser threw his back as he released a heavy groan, clearly irritated at the teasing he’s receiving, all while the Rizzard of Waterdeep keeps a steady pace. Not being able to bear the torment, the bigger man breaks free from the grasp of the conjured hands and thrusts himself all the way into boyfriend’s mouth. Gale chokes around the large sword now impaling his throat, but quickly regains his composure and adjusts his hands to help guide Onser in and out. The tiefling grabs his lover's hair, attempting to be more gentle, but keeps going inching closer and closer to the edge. Finally, he spills into Gale’s mouth, chasing his own relief and feeling even more excited seeing the scholar’s mouth full. Gale holds Onser’s gaze and swallows it in one gulp before leaning back up, cupping his face with a single hand, and kissing the Bhaalspawn, letting him taste himself.
As Gale straddles him, Onser gathers his senses after experiencing what can only be described as euphoria for the first time. Still meeting the paladin's eyes, Gale leans in to whisper in his ear seductively,
“Do you still have it in you to continue?” Onser shivers at close contact but nods his head regardless although he seems to have something in mind in which Gale immediately catches,
“What’s wrong?” he asked worryingly. Onser replied,
“Nothing is wrong, my love, just never felt like this before..” as his voice trailed off into a whisper.
This did catch the wizard by surprise but he recovered rather quickly and asked in a sweet tone “would you want to experience more then?” caressing the bigger man's face which then he replied with a soft yes and from that point on things have just escalated from playful to lustful love.
The sinful desire to make the bigger man feel things he’s never felt takes over Gale. He gets on top of the other creating a looming shadow over Onser, who’s still in a state of haziness. Gale takes his index finger and places on his lips taking some of his own spit to use as lube. Although he seems hesitant to continue,
“Onser…are you sure?” Gale looks at his boyfriend, scanning his face and body for signs of discomfort. Onser propped up his hand to try and be eye to eye level with Gale and replied to him,
“ I have never been so sure in my entire life.” As he dragged him into another open mouth kiss, the man began probing the hole, gently massaging the area in attempts to widen it. Slowly, Onser begins to relax, leaning into the finger and starts guiding Gale to push into the entrance.
Squelching noises mixed with the arousal of two men who have been too touched starved for their own good. As one finger was added, a second joined earning the wizard a pleased moan. The tiefling’s hole loosened with the addition of the extra digit, which was soon joined by another, making it primed and ready for the final act.
Gale rips his remaining clothes off, and grabs hold of Onser’s waist as the mage hands keep his legs hoisted up and spread in the air. The wizard slowly inserts himself, both getting lost in the pleasure, moaning loud enough to wake all of Waterdeep. Thanks to the luxurious room Onser has bought no one really heard them.
The scholar started to rock himself back and forth, earning loud moans and incoherent babbles that are a combination of oh’s and a string of yes’s. Every thrust sent shocks down Onser’s spine and only encouraged Gale to go deeper. The man would pull nearly all the way out before slamming down balls deep into his boyfriend, erecting cries of pleasure mixed with a bit of pain. The paladin’s hole clenched around the dick ramming inside him, eager to chase his own release,
“Wait- Gale- Im about to-”
Before he can finish, waves of bliss wash over him and his hips buck as he releases all over himself and the one above him. Gale followed suit moments after cumming deep inside Onser before pulling out to watch it drip out of his hole.
The pair falls apart and Gale collapses on top of Onser, sliding down onto the empty space next to him. They hold each other like it’s their last night together, listening to the sound of each other’s careful breaths, and heartbeats.
Onser’s wings unfurled fully — a soft, dark cocoon draped behind Gale like a blanket that breathed.
Gale whispered into the quiet:
“Is this alright?”
Onser kissed the top of his head.
“It is everything I wanted,” he murmured.
And with Gale’s fingers gently curling into his shirt, and Gale’s warmth tucked under his arm, Onser finally — finally — closed his eyes.
He hadn’t slept peacefully in years.
But with Gale there?
He drifted off before he even realized it.
Together.
In the quiet.
In the warmth.
In a room that suddenly felt like a place where futures begin.
Morning light spilled through the stained-glass windows in bands of soft gold and deep blue. It painted the room in a peaceful glow, the kind that only comes after a night that finally eased months of tension and fear.
Gale woke first.
Or… technically, he stirred first.
Because he was very much pinned.
Onser lay half over him, one powerful arm draped across Gale’s waist, wings folded protectively around them both like a dark, warm canopy. His breathing was slow, steady — the kind of deep, unguarded sleep Gale had never seen from him.
Gale smiled softly.
Until he shifted.
And felt it.
A sharp sting on his shoulder.
He frowned, confused, because—
That wasn’t there before.
He reached up and touched the spot.
Yep.
Definitely a bruise.
A very… mouth-shaped bruise.
Gale’s heart stopped.
Then sped up dangerously.
Slowly, he checked his collarbone.
Another.
His neck.
Two more.
His jawline.
“Oh gods,” Gale whispered to himself.
Onser stirred at the sound, tightening his hold around Gale instinctively, pulling him flush against his chest.
Gale squeaked.
Another sting.
Another bruise.
Onser’s voice rumbled, low and sleep-rough.
“Are you in pain…?”
Gale froze.
“N-No,” he lied horribly.
Onser blinked himself awake, propping up on one elbow. His hair was loose, cascading around his shoulders, eyes still hazy with sleep.
He looked devastating.
Then his gaze traveled down.
To Gale’s neck.
To the bright, unmistakable marks.
To the pattern of “Onser got too carried away” written all over him.
Onser went perfectly still.
“…Gale,” he whispered, horrified. “Did I—did I do that?”
Gale turned red enough to rival an overripe tomato.
“I—well—you—yes.”
Onser flinched like he’d been stabbed. “I am so sorry. I did not intend to— I lost control and— Gale, forgive me, I—”
Gale grabbed his hand.
“Onser. It’s alright.”
“It is not,” Onser insisted, mortified. “Your mother will kill me.”
Gale’s soul briefly left his body.
“MY—MY MOTHER WILL—OH GODS—”
Both of them sat up at the same time, looking equally panicked now.
Onser:
“I bit you in visible places.”
Gale:
“Yes, you did.”
Onser:
“That is… socially unacceptable.”
Gale:
“My neck looks like I lost a fight with an affectionate vampire.”
Onser:
“I do not even remember doing this.”
Gale:
“You were… enthusiastic.”
Silence.
Onser buried his face in his hands.
“I should exile myself.”
Gale grabbed his shoulders.
“No. No exile. Absolutely no exile. We will… we will fix this. Somehow.”
Onser peeked through his fingers.
“How?”
Gale’s eyes darted to the window.
“…Scarves.”
Onser blinked. “Scarves?”
“Yes,” Gale said, nodding like a man on the verge of panic. “Or illusion magic. Or— or a high-collar robe. Or—gods, Tara is going to notice.”
As if summoned by prophecy, a muffled voice echoed from OUTSIDE the room’s window:
“GALE DEKARIOS, YOU DIDN’T COME HOME LAST NIGHT!”
Gale nearly died.
Onser sat bolt-upright, wings flaring involuntarily.
“TARA’S UP,” Gale whispered. “And she’s angry.
”
Onser whispered back, “Should I hide?”
“No—no—don’t hide—just—stand there and look guiltless—”
“I am not guiltless.”
“JUST PRETEND.”
They scrambled out of bed, both trying to make themselves look less like two men who had fallen asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.
The morning was only beginning…
And judging by Tara’s voice outside the window?
It was going to be very interesting.
Tara was still hollering outside the window like an offended rooster.
“GALE! I CAN HEAR YOU BREATHING! OPEN THE WINDOW!”
Gale panicked.
Full, catastrophic wizard panic.
He whirled toward the mirror, grabbing at his neck and jaw with both hands.
“Oh gods—oh no—Onser these are everywhere, what were you doing—actually NO don’t answer that— I have to hide these—”
He snapped his fingers and a soft ripple of illusion magic shimmered over his skin.
Nothing happened.
The hickeys remained.
Bold.
Purple.
Brazen.
He gaped. “Why—why didn’t that work?!”
Onser, meanwhile…
Stretched.
A long, slow, beautifully unconcerned stretch that showed off the faint glow of his infernal markings and the relaxed roll of his shoulders — like he’d slept better than he had in years.
“Some magic does not override… heat,” he said calmly, as if discussing weather.
Gale’s jaw dropped. “Onser, that is NOT helpful!”
Onser hummed, unconcerned, scanning the room for his clothes.
Instead, he spotted something else:
a pair of soft pajama pants folded neatly on the edge of the bed.
He picked them up with two fingers.
Held them up.
And smiled.
A soft, crooked, devastatingly smug smile that said:
Yes.
I did that.
And I’m proud of it.
Gale made a strangled sound.
“That— Onser— that is not— you shouldn’t look that— pleased!”
Onser tilted his head, unfolding the pants leisurely. “Why not? You kissed me quite enthusiastically as well.”
Gale spluttered. “We are NOT talking about that right now—!”
Onser slipped on the pajama pants with unbothered grace, still wearing nothing but those and the faint glow of smugness radiating off him.
He tied the drawstring slowly.
Too slowly.
Gale covered his eyes. “Please. I’m already dying.”
Onser chuckled — actual chuckling — a deep, quiet sound that Gale had never heard from him before.
“You are adorable when flustered,” Onser murmured.
“I AM NOT—” Gale’s voice cracked. “STOP ENJOYING THIS.”
Another illusion rippled across his neck.
Still nothing.
“Why aren’t these working?!” Gale wailed. “They worked on bruises before!”
Onser leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking entirely too comfortable in those loose pajama pants.
“They are not bruises,” he said with mild amusement.
Gale froze.
“O-Oh?”
Onser nodded once. “They are marks I gave you willingly. Magic sometimes recognizes intent.”
Gale nearly combusted. “Onser Winters, you are making this WORSE—”
Another shout from outside:
“GALE! I SWEAR TO THE GODS I WILL BREAK THIS WINDOW—”
Gale threw his hands up.
“Okay—okay—fine—fine—I’ll deal with Tara first— but YOU—”
He pointed a trembling finger.
“—need to stop looking so self-satisfied.”
Onser’s smile deepened just slightly. “I do not know what you mean.”
“You absolutely know,” Gale hissed.
Onser walked over to him — slow, big, warm, confident — and brushed a thumb lightly against Gale’s jaw, right over one of the marks he left.
Gale froze, breathing stuttering.
Onser murmured, low and velvet-soft:
“I am… proud you are mine again.”
Gale nearly fell over.
“OPEN THE WINDOW THIS INSTANT!” Tara screeched.
“WE HAVE TO LET HER IN,” Gale whispered, spiraling.
Onser stepped back, utterly serene, wings relaxed.
“Yes,” he said. “And I will put on a shirt.”
Thank the gods—
“But not yet.”
Gale choked.
“ONY—NO! ON SER, PUT ON THE SHIRT NOW! SHE’S GOING TO—”
The window rattled violently.
Onser laughed.
Laughed.
And Gale realized something terrifying:
He woke up the monster of smug affection.
The window rattled.
Then rattled harder.
Then—
CRASH!!
The latch snapped clean open and Tara exploded into the room like a furry meteor, wings flared, tail puffed, eyes blazing with betrayed-housecat fury.
“GALE DEKARIOS.”
Each syllable hit like a lightning strike.
Gale shrieked. Actually shrieked.
Onser blinked, unbothered, fully expecting this outcome.
Tara hovered in the air, scanning the room like a seasoned detective surveying a crime scene.
Her gaze swept—
- rumpled sheets
- two pillows on one side of the bed
- Gale in a half-buttoned robe
- Onser in pajama pants and absolutely no shirt
- Onser’s wings relaxed
- Gale glowing red
- the kettle still cold
- he faint scent of “we definitely made out for hours”
Tara’s jaw dropped.
“Oh.
My.
GODS.”
Gale held up both hands. “It’s not— what it— looks like—”
Tara flew directly into his face.
“YOU. DID. NOT. COME. HOME.”
pap pap pap pap — she slapped his forehead lightly with both paws.
Gale wheezed. “Tara! Stop—!”
She whirled on Onser next.
“You!” she screeched. “YOU BIG, SHIRTLESS, SMUG, FAIRY-TALE NIGHTMARE OF A MAN!”
Onser blinked. “I— beg your pardon?”
“DON’T YOU BEG ANYTHING!” Tara pointed an accusatory claw at him. “YOU LEFT SIXTEEN BITE MARKS ON MY WIZARD!”
Gale shrieked again. “TARA—!”
Onser’s smugness vanished.
He froze, mortified all over again.
“I… I did not intend to— there were not sixteen— were there sixteen?”
Tara zoomed to Gale’s neck.
“One here—two—three—four—FIVE?! GALE, DO YOU HAVE A SPARE NECK I DON’T KNOW ABOUT?!”
Gale covered his face.
“Please kill me. Right now. Please.”
Onser stepped forward, genuinely concerned.
“I apologize. I did not mean to be— overly enthusiastic.”
Tara gasped dramatically.
“OH HE WAS ENTHUSIASTIC.”
“STOP SAYING THAT WORD!” Gale wailed.
“ENTHUSIASTIC! ADJECTIVE! SEE ALSO: ‘FERAL’ AND ‘VORACIOUS’—”
“TARA!!”
Tara zipped around the room in a furious loop.
“This is scandalous! This is outrageous! THIS IS—” she paused midair, eyes narrowing.
She drifted closer to Onser, sniffing him like a suspicious librarian sniffing overdue books.
“…You smell like lavender… and my wizard.”
Onser blinked. “Because he—”
“DON’T FINISH THAT SENTENCE!” Gale shouted.
Tara sighed dramatically, landing on the dresser with the grace of a judgmental queen.
“Alright. Fine. I see what happened. I am disappointed in both of you.”
Onser bowed his head. “That is fair.”
Gale groaned. “Tara—”
“But,” Tara continued, eyes gleaming with mischief,
“You do look happy.”
Gale froze.
Onser froze.
Tara smirked. “Both of you.”
Gale’s breath caught.
Onser’s wings fluttered—just once—betraying emotion he couldn’t hide.
Tara hopped closer, her tone softening for the first time.
“…It’s about time” she murmured. “I was growing tired of telling Ms. Dekarios about this”
Gale turned pale. “Mother KNEW?!”
Tara snorted. “She absolutely knew. She’s been waiting for this.” Tara flicked her tail.
“Well. Chop chop,” she said. “Get dressed. Hide the marks. Or don’t. I’m not your mother.”
Gale groaned.
Onser finally exhaled, quietly amused.
And Tara, perched like a tiny chaos deity, whispered to herself:
“…I cannot WAIT to tell Han and Whitey”
Tara hopped around the room like she owned it, wings fluttering, tail flicking, ready to interrogate more, when—
“BREAKFAST IS READY IF YOU TWO ARE STILL ALIVE!”
Morina’s voice echoed through the room again.
Except…
This time, Gale squinted.
“Wait. That didn’t sound like it came from downstairs.”
Onser tilted his head. “It did not.”
Tara perked up. “Ohhh. She used the Sending spell.”
Gale’s eyes widened in horror.
“Why would she—?!”
“Because you didn’t come home,” Tara said smugly. “She’s summoning you both. She wants you at breakfast.”
Gale covered his face with both hands.
“Oh gods. Mother knows. She definitely knows.”
Tara fluttered onto the bed.
“She absolutely knows. And she’s probably making pancakes.”
Onser, who had been standing politely like a man awaiting judgment, cleared his throat softly.
“…Tara.”
“Yes?”
“Leave.”
Tara’s wings drooped. “Excuse me?”
“Please,” Onser added, ever the gentleman. “We require rest.”
Tara blinked.
“…Are you kicking me out?”
“Yes,” Onser said, politely, calmly, with the full authority of a man who had survived Avernus and worse. “You may return shortly. But we require privacy.”
Gale nearly died on the spot.
“Onser! You can’t just— she’s— Tara’s—”
Tara puffed up, ready to be offended—
Then blinked.
Then gave a little shrug.
“Honestly? Fair.”
She hopped toward the window.
“But I’m telling Morina everything—”
“TARA.” Gale choked.
“—except maybe the biting, that part can be our little secret—”
“GET OUT,” Gale squeaked.