#AU -The Dark Urge Survives Orin's Attack

[nonbinaryeye]

They Lived

Written for @gortash-week

Day 6 - AU

The prism-bearers killed Kethric and are about to enter the Bauldur’s Gate. The Dark Urge and lord Enver Gortash have a bit different ideas about how they should deal with them.

Read on AO3

...

The Dark Urge does not have to bother to sneak or disguise themselves around the Wyrm’s Crossing. On some other day they might – just for the fun of it, just to test their skills against all the Flaming Fists and Banite guards and elaborate traps, just to prove that none of those things could really stop them. But not today, as today they have business to talk to the soon-to-be Archduke of this city and they wish to get to it as soon as possible.

They burst through doors to Gortash’s private chambers and no one tries to stop them. Because they are known well enough here and everyone can probably see that they are in a bad enough mood that telling them that ‘Lord Gortash is too busy’ or that ‘High Imperceptor of Bane is not accepting any visitors right now’ would lead to nothing but a pointless bloodshed.

As they enter lord Enver Gortash – their years-long ally, accomplice, confidant and, they would even dare to say, friend – appears to be posing his new painting. The pleased smile that appears on his face as soon as he spots them quickly turns to frown when they cut his latest vain immortalization on canvas shortly. Before the painter, focused on his work, even spots them, they are already slicing his throat. His latest and also last and forever unfinished painting is improved by splashes of blood.

“You could have at least waited for the painting to be done, if you were eager for a kill,” Gortash lets out a displeased scoff as he looks at the corpse. The Dark Urge could not care any less. They are in a sour mood; their dear tyrant should be rather grateful they have restrained their bloodlust till now and have not left the path of corpses all the way through his newest lair.

“Your corpse will have no use for your portraits. Start designing your tombstone, that might be much more use to you rather soon,” they growl as they approach him.

“Careful, it almost sounds like you are threatening me, dearest assassin of mine,” a smile returns on Gortash’s face and for once they find it more annoying than charming. He spins his cane in his hands in nonchalant gesture and steps closer to them, arms open, welcoming. His posture is relaxed, unguarded, as if he has no reason to fear the murder incarnate in front of him. He deserves to be gutted just for his carelessness and all its implications alone.

“Kethric Thorm is dead. Kethric Thorm is dead and you send me this.” The Dark Urge throws to his feet the invitation. His fancy paper, in his fancy envelope, with his fancy seal and fancy signature. Oh, they are well aware how much Enver loves his etiquette and politeness and manners. And usually, under normal circumstances, they tend to be willing to indulge him, play their part in the tyrant’s charade. ‘Usually’ and ‘under normal circumstances’ are the keywords here.

“Where exactly is the problem, my dread heart? Countless invitations to my inauguration to the office of Archduke were sent to all the important people in Baldur's Gate and beyond. How could I have not invited the most important person beside me? Or are you offended I have not handed it to you personally? My deepest apologies, but you are quite hard to reach and unfortunately, we’ve not had much time for each other lately. I was always giving you all important information and I was always clear with you about all my plans-“

“You know that the useless piece of paper is not what I am talking about here, Enver,” they growl, their patience worn thin.

“Do I?” Gortash decides to insult both of their intelligence by choosing to play ignorant a bit longer. Their hand itches. They really wish to stab him right now and not in the tender loving way, but in the brutal and relentless one that would paint his newest rooms in red. They have to be content with piercing their dagger through his already destroyed portrait a few times. He is watching them curiously, patiently waiting for them to get to the point that should not be necessary to be made

“Group of adventurers with that damned prism you could have not shut up about the past few tenthdays killed Ketheric and stole his Netherstone. The Netherstone we need to control the Brain because: what exactly do you think will happen when an army of Absolute’s soldiers with no general arrives in the city?” they are supposed to be the one thrilled at the prospect of slaughter and countless deaths, they are not used to trying to be the voice of reason.

“No need to worry, the prism-bearers will bring the Netherstone directly to me. If my sources are correct, they arrived in Rivington just yesterday’s evening.” Did they now? That much to him ‘always giving them all the important information’. They do not bother to bring it up as he would only answer ‘I am telling you now, am I not?’ They wonder what other things might have their ally forgotten to tell them.

What Gortash really should have sent them instead of this stupid invitation is a letter with their location. The Dark Urge could have gathered their faithful followers, storm their camp at night, and they would have had all the Netherstones again already. If soon-to-Archduke found a moment in his busy schedule of portrait’s getting painted and patriars being flattered, they could have even attacked them with joined forces of Bhaalist and Banites. The Dark Urge would love to fight side by side with their tyrant again. Blood of their enemies always looks so lovely on him. They enjoy witnessing how ruthless he can be when he is not only giving commands but fighting himself, his cunning mind put to action…

No matter. No need to dwell on ‘should have beens’.

“And what about it? Do you think they will simply hand it to you? They should not, they cannot, be underestimated. We need to consider them to be a serious threat.”

“Yes, yes I do consider them that, for a fact,” he puts on a smile, fake one as most of his smiles are these days, “In no doubt, they’ll be travelling to the city. Let’s make sure we give them a Baldurian welcome. I will offer them an alliance. Proposal they cannot refuse. Anything and everything they could wish for… you know how it goes.”

They are tempted to suggest that he sounds like a devil. Gortash would not be amused by such a comparison. That might be only one more reason to make it. Alas that would get their discussion nowhere and so they bite their tongue.

“Why do you assume they will be interested?” they ask him instead.

“Everyone wants something,” he waves his hand dismissively, “Everyone can be bought for the right price.”

That is clearly not true. The Dark Urge should know as their loyalties lay strictly to Bhaal and they cannot be bought by any amount of sweet words and promises. Even though most people seem to be easily corrupted by material things or gold or power or other silly things such as these, they themselves cannot, therefore one must assume some other living beings might be hard to persuade as well. But their tyrant still sees everything just as a transaction to be made and it makes them wonder how well he really understands them.

“You are a fool with too much confidence for someone whose plans have been failing so much recently,” the Dark Urge scoffs, knowing very well how to hit the sore spot. Gortash’s eyes twitch over the accusations, though he refuses to let go of his smile.

“Small hiccups, easy to overlook in the greater scheme of things,” Gortash stands his ground and even though they are standing so close to each other, one reach of arm away, he has never felt so far away from them. They have felt this unease for a while. The itch that something is wrong, that things are not going the way they were supposed to. And it has nothing to do with the fact that their plans are being shaken as much as the entirety of the Gate under the Netherbrain interference. Their alliance has been bleeding dying creature for a while and Kethric’s death feels like the last hit needed to put it out of its misery. They both know it. They both must see it to be a corpse slowly starting to rot and not even the tyrant’s demands can will it back to life.

There used to be perfect balance between them and Myrkul’s Chosen being added to the mix never weakened it. If anything, on the contrary, it used to be an unspoken agreement that when the time for betrayal will come, he will be the first one to be cast aside. But who would have guessed the immortal general can be killed this easily?

“As always we will overcome the struggle and come out stronger from it. Don’t you think?” Gortash crosses the distance between them and places his hand on the side of their face. They cannot help themselves but lean into his touch. Because that is the worst thing. They still crave to be placated. The sin they are hiding in the deepest corner of their rotten heart. They wish to be pulled into the tyrant’s embrace, have him whisper all the sweet lies about his love and adoration, about the world they can rule together, about the unbreakable bond they share.

“I don’t believe you wish to know what is going through my mind right now, dear tyrant,” they sigh and Gortash finally drops the smile of his. He grabs them by their chin and pulls them to a kiss. The movement is too familiar, they do not even think about it and lean in. They press their lips together and just for a second, they can pretend they are back in much simpler times when the schemes and plans they were creating together were manageable.

“Just tell me, I can still trust you. Tell me, I can count on you,” he holds them tenderly and every droplet of their godly blood boils inside them. How dare he be the one demanding assurance; how dare he be the one demanding from them to swear him their loyalty.

Though it might be their own fault, the Dark Urger thinks bitterly. They were indulging him too much. You offer the tyrant a hand and he will put it in cuffs.  Does Gortash really think he can make them do what he wants just because of some poisonous affection they happen to feel for him?

“You can count on me getting the Netherstone you will fail to obtain through your methods, that much I can promise you, Enver. Upon your brilliant mind will then fall the task of figuring out how to split three Netherstones between two Chosens.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, my love, that will be a problem to solve after we reunite them,” he laughs and his words only confirms their worry. Gortash is always miles upfront in his plans in all possible directions. He knows very well what he will do in either of the only two possible outcomes. It is a deliberate choice that he decided not to share it with the Dark Urge. And they might be a bit paranoid, yes, but it is hard not to be cautious when dealing with a man like him.

“As you say,” they decide to not point out the smell of rot in his words, they pretend not to see the dagger he is hiding behind his back, they pretend not to taste the poison in his kisses. And it seems to be good enough for him as he releases them from his hold, a smile, which is still not quite reaching his eyes, on his face again.

“I still hope you will come to my inauguration,” he drops the topic as if nothing happened, as if he has just not dropped the first gravel of soil on the coffin where the remains of their alliance lay in its grave.

“Goodbye, Enver,” they say and wonder if their tyrant can also feel the finality of their words and the bitter end of whatever it is they had or if he is still lying to himself with the same intensity he keeps lying to them. There used to be a time when they could have put any thoughts and concerns into words and asked him. Such a time is no more. All the ‘we’ and ‘us’ turned into ‘you and I’.

[tuxedo-rabbit]

DU Questions (for the AU version please)

How does your Dark Urge feel about the city?

How does your Dark Urge feel about love?

How does your Dark Urge feel about what others think of them?

How good of a liar is your Dark Urge? How do they feel about lying?

How does your Dark Urge feel about the city?

Baldur’s Gate was home for Estryd. The Temple of Bhaal was the one safe haven she had, no matter how often she ran away they always welcomed her inevitable return. Her family, as dysfunctional as the are, were there. Estryd knew the ins and outs of Baldur’s Gate. She loved her city, even if she was known as a terror by the people living there.

That all changes when she discovers Orin tried to kill her, and now agents of Bhaal are attacking her on site. Estryd now associates Baldur’s Gate with betrayal and loss. She won’t be returning after the events of the game.

How does your Dark Urge feel about love?

Intense yearning mixed with shame. Estryd wants to be loved so much, and she feels love deeply, despite telling herself otherwise. But Bhaal has made it clear that love is not part of who she is supposed to be. She doesn’t want to be forced to kill people she loves so she tries to suppress those feelings. And she truly believes that no one can love her, monster that she is.

Gale gets a glimpse of the depth of her feelings during the Weave scene. It’s platonic at that moment, but she has this strong desire for friendship that overwhelms him. It’s his first glimpse of who she is under the Dark Urge mask. (and she is ridiculously sappy towards him once they are in a committed relationship)

How does your Dark Urge feel about what others think of them?

I think Estryd does a lot of lying to herself. She tells herself she doesn’t care, and in most cases this is true. Being a monster of the night for decades numbs you to people’s opinions. But when she starts to care about someone, she wants them to care for her just as much, and this leads to a lot of self-loathing because she feels she is someone incapable of love or being loved. So she tries to cover up her hurt by pretending not to care.

How good of a liar is your Dark Urge? How do they feel about lying?

Estryd is very good at lying (even mechanically she has a high charisma score and is good at deception)! She’s had to use lying as a survival skill for most of her life. She feels neutral about it. If lying helps turn things in her favor, she lies.