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Perhaps it started as an attempt to avoid the gravity of their situation, but Gale had taken to sending off his companions when they left camp and he remained with a jovial, “Don’t die!”
He almost kicked himself internally (and externally, truthfully) the first time it slipped out, but Karlach’s booming laugh, Lae’zel’s haughty tchk, Astarion’s playful wink, and Shadowheart’s poorly hidden eye roll felt like the sweetest validation. Even Wyll had hidden a chuckle behind his hand as he stretched nearby. It had turned his initial social anxiety into the deep-set longing to earn more of their approval, and he, in a frankly characteristic moment of sentimentality, decided to hold onto the first thing he knew for a fact had earned it.
Over time, the lighthearted farewell gained real meaning for Gale: his traveling companions, his friends, had begun to occupy a space in his heart that he’d previously thought solely dedicated to his goddess. Each of them had a place, a tender shoot growing in the blossoming garden of his heart. It wasn’t until his past choices quite literally accosted him on the road in the form of Elminster that he saw the truth of what had come to be; that evening, on the borders of the Shadow-Cursed land, Gale was amazed to discover that when he said “don’t die,” what he really meant was, “I love you.”
It was Karlach who figured it out first. When Dammon gave her the second upgrade to her engine, Gale was among the first to throw his arms around her in a fierce hug, and after she laughed wildly, picked him up, and spun him, he rested his forehead against hers and murmured, “don’t die.” The look of understanding followed by unbridled joy was the most beautiful thing Gale had ever seen.
Next to see the truth was Shadowheart. The gloom of the Thorm mausoleum and the restlessness of the dead made all of them uneasy, even as Shadowheart claimed to feel the merciless love of her goddess. Gale saw her faith beginning to waver, and he understood how she felt more keenly than anyone (except perhaps Lae’zel). He had taken to chatting with her around the campfire, asking her about her relationship with Shar, and offering his perspective and experience. Sometimes she would angrily storm away if he questioned her faith too much, but others, she listened with quiet contemplation. When they found Shar’s gauntlet, Gale’s chest filled with cold dread at watching those vulnerable parts of her die at Shar’s command. So, quietly, on the eve of her first trial, he gifted her a night orchid with the plea, “don’t die.” Shadowheart had given him an intensely scrutinizing look, before she met his eyes and saw the truth. She had gently cupped his face, lightly pressed her lips to his, and walked away without a word.
After Shadowheart came Wyll. He and Karlach began their own romance, much to the delight of the rest of their party (Gale included), and she had told him of her feelings for Gale as well. Wyll had been mildly surprised at first, but as he spoke with Karlach and learned how Gale loved, he started to see how those feelings were being expressed to him as well. Wyll was actually the one to approach Gale as he prepared dinner one evening, a warm smile on his face as he asked to help. Gale gladly accepted, heart racing at the ways Wyll playfully bumped against him (when neither of them had a knife in their hands, of course), his touch lingering just a moment longer than was merely friendly. When the subject of Mizora and her latest demand came up, Wyll struggled to hide his anger at how she had nearly tricked him into killing Karlach. He growled that perhaps he should spend eternity as a lemure if it meant no longer having to do her bidding, and Gale took his hands, soothing the anger. He offered a warm smile and said, “don’t die, Wyll. There are at least two of us who would miss you quite terribly.”
Lae’zel and Astarion figured it out together. The two of them were fighting (Lae’zel would call it “verbal sparring” and Astarion would call it “banter”) about Faerûn’s “propensity towards softness” and somehow the topic of sex came up. Gale really shouldn’t have been surprised though, considering that was one of the few things the vampire and the githyanki shared a similar enjoyment of discussing. Lae’zel had scoffed when Astarion pointed out that many people said “I love you” in other words or actions, responding, “I do not see the benefit of obscuring one’s desires. I would enjoy the flesh of the one I lust for on the eve of every day, to celebrate the day’s victories and inspire the next’s battles.” Astarion rolled his eyes and commented that such a fearless race certainly wouldn’t understand the fear of dying or losing one’s love; that hoping they would come back alive was one of the ways that many in their current plane showed they cared. As Astarion spoke, he caught Gale’s eye across the campfire. Gale blushed and quickly looked away, and Astarion abruptly fell silent. When Lae’zel sharply questioned him, Gale hesitantly met Astarion’s eyes again and nodded. Astarion had teased him gently as he gave Lae’zel a practical lesson in wooing a human. That night, Gale earned a hands-on lesson in githyanki mating rituals.
Halsin was the last to be planted in the garden of Gale’s heart, but he made the others thrive with him. Gale had been truthfully unsure of the big elf at first, his pride at war with the desire to pick Halsin’s brain for knowledge of Druidic magic. As he spent days in Last Light Inn with Halsin, though, learning more about the source of the curse and of the yoke Halsin placed on himself, he found himself wanting to help carry some of that weight. The night Halsin announced he knew where to find Thaniel, and the party marched off to what felt like certain failure, Gale had watched Halsin’s resolute stride and softly pleaded, “don’t die.” Later, when Orin kidnapped Halsin and Gale had found him bound to that cruel altar, he had found himself kneeling over Halsin and begging, “don’t die” over and over. Halsin awoke to Gale’s tear-streaked face and, as soon as he was unbound, wrapped Gale in a hug so full of meaning that they didn’t need words. That evening, however, Halsin showed him just how practiced his tongue really was.
As the final battle drew nearer, Gale began to withdraw from his companions, his lovers, the truth of the orb in his chest making him more and more sure that it was his responsibility, his duty to end the Elder Brain without anyone else getting hurt. He was so lost in his own mind that he missed the concerned looks of his lovers, let go of their embraces just a touch too soon. It was Astarion who approached him at last, yanked the Annals of Karsus from his hands, and pulled him to his feet, snarling that Gale gave him back the desire to live, and how dare he act like his own life was worth less, how dare he threaten to leave Astarion on his own. When Astarion’s fury faded, Gale held a weeping Astarion, his own tears flooding his face too. Astarion finally took Gale’s face in his hands, and, with all the tenderness in the world, whispered, “don’t you die, Gale Dekarios.”
“I won’t,” Gale promised.
Never had a promise felt easier to keep than that; where once hubris and heartbreak had left their mark, now thrived life.