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theshotsheardacrossworlds · 4 months

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Cook

Two very awkward wizards flirt and have a heart-to-heart. SFW.

Martha Hylfyst watched the Wizard of Waterdeep at the campfire with great interest, the open book she was holding long forgotten. She had not expected Gale to be the one who assumed the role of camp cook but was glad of it because he’s just that good. Just as good as Aunt Luci, and that’s a very high compliment.

“If you don’t go over there and speak to him, then I will make you, darling.” Astarion teased, walking by the front of Martha’s tent. “I’ll tell him you have your pretty little eyes on him—”

She squeaked, slamming the book shut. “No!” The half-elf stood and placed the book on the chair she was sitting on. “I’ll…talk to him.” Right. Talk to him. Like a person talks to another person. Not like how a silly thirty-year-old, who’s been rejected by numerous suitors, talks to a charming, kind, funny, sweet wizard of great renown.

Astarion giggled as he reached his tent. “This is going to be quite the show!”

Fuck.

What would Da say? “Just be yourself.”

Mum? “Be strong and confident. You are a Hylfyst and a de Fontaine---act like it.”

Aunt Luci? “Follow your heart, sweetie. And make sure there’s nothing in your teeth!”

Pushing her shoulders back, she tried to maintain a confident yet relaxed walk to the campfire. “Smells good, Gale.” She said with a small smile, her golden eyes sparkling.

He glanced upwards and grinned. “Thank you, Martha! Please, come and join me.” Gale watched as she sat next to him, her hands folded in her lap. Just like Mum and Aunt Luci taught me. “I found some spicy sausages among our rations. That, combined with flour from the Grove, eggs, and water, to make a rudimentary pasta, and fresh milk and spices to make a sauce…” His smile grew even wider. “Well, it’s a lovely pasta dish I would make if I were at home. Something delicious that soothes the soul.”

“Sounds like how I cook at home too.”

Stirring the sauce gently, he raised an eyebrow. “A lady of House Hylfyst cooking?” He then winked at her. Oh, he’s teasing me. Well, I’ll show you!

She wrinkled her freckled nose and smirked. “My godmother, Countess Luci Wildheart, taught me. I enjoy it, especially cooking for me and my friend Nadia. I think I mentioned her before, right? We live together in a small house in Baldur’s Gate.” Stop. Rambling.

“Yes! She’s a bard if I remember correctly?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I was coming back from one of her gigs when I was…you know…” Oh great now you’ve ruining the mood. Recover! Quickly! Wringing her hands, she felt anxiety bloom in her chest. “Anyways—”

“I’m sorry. Truly.” Gale murmured as he checked to see if the pasta was done cooking. “It must have been so frightening for you, as it was for us all obviously…ah, it’s done! Do you mind giving me a hand?”

Perfect! This will get things back on track. “Of course!”

“I’m going to attempt to strain this as best I can. If you wouldn’t mind minding the sauce and combining it with the pasta, then that would be most helpful.” He set about using a bowl he magic missile’d some holes into earlier to strain the pasta.

Martha smiled to herself. He doesn’t need me to do this. He can easily do it, but he wants me to. And maybe he knows I know this? And is enjoying this little time together as much as I am? And I hope there’s more of this in the future? When he returned with the strained pasta, he never took his eyes off her as she added the sauce and spicy sausage with ease. “Do you approve of your sous chef, Gale?” she whispered, her smile growing wider by the second.

His brown eyes were full of mirth. “I approve of her very much and look forward to hearing her opinion on my made-in-the-frontier pasta.”

After sitting next to each other at dinner (it was so fucking good), Gale asked if they could speak more and took two shortbread biscuits to share. They ended up on a large log by the river. Far enough so the others won’t hear but still not a long walk away in case something happens. “I was wondering if you could share your knowledge on necromancy. I’m most interested…” Upon seeing her expression change to a mixture of shock and fear, he immediately apologized. “Forgive me for my eagerness. It’s simply that I don’t meet too many necromancers in the flesh, as it were. But if it’s not something you wish to discuss, then I would be happy to talk about anything else.”

So he’s interested in that. What on earth made you think he was any different than other power-hungry wizards? Of course he’s not. Martha turned away as she stood, trying desperately to hide the tears forming in her eyes. “You know what, I suddenly feel tired—” He’s just wants what’s in my head, not me. I never should’ve mentioned it, because now everything is ruined.

“Please.”

She froze, still not looking at him.

“If I have offended you in any way, then I most sincerely apologize. I-I will make it up to you, I swear it. I’ll do anything you ask of me. But please, please,” his voice hitched.“Don’t go…unless you truly are tired, then rest.”

Maybe…he’s not like the others. While he wanted more from Mystra, he’s never shown any tendencies towards darker magic. Trust my heart. Trust him. She turned and sat back down, wiping the tears from her golden eyes. “Sorry. Usually when I get asked about necromancy, it’s not for the best of reasons.”

He nodded. Martha thought she saw tears in his eyes. Oh no. Oh fuck. Oh shit. “My dear, that’s very understandable. Gods, Szass Tam comes to mind and other notoriously evil Red Wizards. Not that you are obviously!” Gale buried his face in his hands and groaned. “I’m cocking this right up, aren’t I?”

A smile crept onto her face. “It’s alright. I…do you mind if I share the first time, I realized there was something different about me and my magic?” He lifted his head and nodded enthusiastically. She tentatively offered her hand which he took with a soft smile. “Like you, I’ve been in touch with the Weave for as long as I can remember. One night when I was about five, I saw a boy in my bedroom. He was around my age, maybe a little younger. He asked if we could play for a while, and I said yes. I didn’t think anything of it.” She chuckled. “I found out later that he was the son one of my great-great-uncles who died of flu as a boy. His spirit was still in Hylfyst Manor and just wanted to play. This went on for a few weeks before my parents caught us playing but obviously couldn’t see him. He was scared when he saw them, saw how afraid they were of him. I reached out to touch him and when I did…they could see him.”

Gale’s eyes widened. “Are you telling me that you---as a five-year-old---made a spirit reveal himself? With a touch?!”

She smiled nervously. “Yes?”

“By the gods, how?!?!? How?! Can you still do this?!” He’s not afraid. He’s excited. Very excited. Like how Horace or Scratch gets really excited before I give him a treat.

“I can, though it doesn’t always work. I also can’t explain how I can do it. When it does happen, there’s always some light, which my parents and teachers think is the influence of Selune or Lathander, but who knows?” She shook her head. “Anyways, my parents told him he wasn’t in any trouble and then his spirit moved on. That was the first of my many communions with the dead and helping them along to whatever awaits them next.”

“That’s very kind of you to do.” He said warmly, giving her hand a squeeze.

Martha smiled nervously. Again. Oh my gods, my heart races when he smiles at me like that. “If I can help them, then I will. That’s not to say it’s easy or fun sometimes…but it’s worth it. And before you ask, none of my own studies in necromancy have explained why I’m like this---a freak.” A freak whose own mother thinks she’s useless…no, Mum’s never said that. She just thinks it. I know she does. I’m not a ranger like her. Not as elegant and pretty a lady as her. She’s braver and stronger. She loves the outdoors. Loves hunting. And then there’s me…

Gale shook his head, squeezing her hand again. “You’re not a freak. You were given a gift, from who I cannot say, but a gift nonetheless.” He let go of her hand and slowly touched her freckled cheek. His brown eyes stared into her wide golden ones. “You use this gift, this power bestowed upon you to help others. That’s not freakish at all. In fact, it’s quite admirable.” Something flashed in his eyes---a realization. “Have you ever heard of white necromancers?”

Her brow furrowed. “Hmm, I think there was a reference to that in a book I read years ago, but nothing specific I’m afraid.”

“White necromancers assist the living and the dead---healing mind and body, moving spirits on, and occasionally going into battle against other necromancers. By that definition,” he’s flashing my favorite charming smile. Gods, he’s so handsome. “You’re not a freak. You’re a white necromancer, which is nothing to be ashamed of.”

That’s what it’s always been about, hasn’t it?

Shame.

Shame for having this power.

Shame that in a family of barbarians and rangers, I’m the outlier.

Shame that I won’t live up to my own very high expectations.

She nodded quickly, feeling tears in her eyes. “No. No, it’s not.”

I won’t be ashamed anymore.

#martha hylfyst #martha x gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #pre relationship #plus size tav #wizard tav #necromancer tav #they are SO AWKWARD #but food is love and so is talking about your power over the dead #implied chubby gale #martha “i see dead people” hylfyst

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