Gale woke before the sun, the kind of early that made you question your life choices. Yet here he was, pulling his cloak tighter against the rain as he trudged through the sleepy town. His destination? A toy shop he’d seen days prior, one with a window display that caught his eye—a dollhouse, intricately detailed and ludicrously expensive. But Gale wasn’t the type to pinch coppers when it came to charm or, more specifically, when it came to you. By the time he’d secured the dollhouse, a miniature arsenal of furniture, and an embarrassing amount of paint, the rain had soaked through his boots. Still, he couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of your reaction—or the lack thereof, considering you were currently snoozing away, blissfully unaware of his schemes.

Back at base, Gale slipped inside like a man with something to hide. The others were still deep in sleep, and he preferred to keep it that way. Up in his room, he locked the door, set the dollhouse on his desk, and took a long, satisfying breath. The rain tapped against the window in rhythm with his thoughts as he began assembling the pieces. A flick of his wrist, a little magic, and the toy fireplace roared to life, casting a warm glow over the desk. Gale chuckled under his breath—it was absurd, really, but he didn’t mind.

As he painted the roof a vibrant red and painstakingly positioned a tiny chair by the fireplace, he glanced at you curled up on his book, your leaf blanket rising and falling with each breath. How you managed to sleep through all this was beyond him. Of course, Gale wasn’t entirely altruistic. As much as he wanted you to have a proper home—and he did—there was a part of him that hoped you’d notice his efforts and, oh, maybe “accidentally” repay him in pixie dust. He wasn’t proud of it, but magic was magic. Not that he’d ever admit it outright; his face, however, was a traitor to his intentions. The slightest twitch of a chuckle escaped across his lips as he placed a tiny teacup on the tiny table.