#enver gortash falling at the rock

[waylaidbyenemies]

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The absolute darling and G.OA.T. of our beloved Bhaalspawn franchise lore served the gortashnation a tasty meal today

[murmishhy]

Imagine you’ve decided to be partners with Gortash. Whether you’re seeking information about your past (if you’re Durge) or trying to uncover his true intentions (if you’re Tav), you need crucial details. You can still betray him by raiding the Iron Throne and Steel Watch Foundry, but the issue is that you don’t know their locations. Fortunately, Gortash is hosting an inauguration party at Wyrm’s Rock Castle tonight. You can attend with your romantic partner or a companion, but there's another intriguing option: the Archduke Enver Gortash himself has invited you to join him for the evening. Your responses could be:

1. I'd be delighted.

2. Don’t take this the wrong way, Gortash, but I’d rather die.

3. Why? Who am I to you?

4. Sure, it'll be fun! I always love stepping on people's shoes at dances!

If you choose to go to the party with Gortash, he will ask you to dance. You must accept, leading to a skill check similar to Wyll's. If you fail, Gortash will save you from falling, causing your psyche to take -3 damage and you will be charmed by Gortash. In future battles with him, your attack rolls and saving throws will have disadvantage against him. However, if you succeed in dancing well, Gortash will be charmed by you, allowing you to persuade him to give you his stone later.

If you attend the dance with someone else, Gortash will be annoyed but will still ask you for a dance. The same consequences apply if you accept. Refusing his dance to dance with your partner instead unlocks a new romance scene, further annoying Gortash. This could lead to increased hostility when you later request his stone.

At the end of the night, regardless of whether you danced with him, you can ask for his stone. Based on your interactions during the event, Gortash might agree to give it to you, securing his position as Archduke. This way, you can save his life, you can either let him stay as the Archduke after the battle, or with Ravenguard's help overthrow him and send him to jail. Alternatively, he might refuse to give his stone and insist both of you have to face the brain together, so you have to meet up at the morphic pool where he will die regardless. In the worst-case scenario, he could become hostile and attempt to take your stone, leading to a battle then and there until one of you ends up dead.

I think a dance idea such as this would add a fascinating layer to Gortash's character. We can see him working his charm on us, we can have a potential romantic scene with him, or just witness how much of a manipulative little shit he is. It’s unfortunate that there isn’t more content for him, especially opportunities to save him. Considering he isn’t worse than Durge, he deserves a chance at redemption, in my honest opinion. I wish Larian would consider adding such a feature to give our greasy boi a shot at salvation, and a chance to be happy with his nearest and dearest Durge, or Tav.

[littlelovelyra]

The Danse Macabre (pt3 The Change)

Chapter 3 of The Change is here!

if you prefer AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56298823/chapters/143106514#workskin

Notes: I've edited this as much as I can, I'll revisit it again to check for any more errors in writing - I apologise if there are any grammar errors etc.

Summary:

You are invited to celebrate the inauguration of Lord Ever Gortash, he makes a special request for Tav to accompany him for the first half of the celebration. Astarion is furious about this but can do nothing as you need to keep up the appearance of being Gortash’s ally. While at the celebration another attack of Cazador’s spawns takes place marking this the final straw for you and Astarion.

Warnings: Violence, fingering, creepy gortash, possessive Astarion, Jealous Astarion, fluff, romance, cute stuff.

MINORS DNI

Astarion:

“You are cordially invited to celebrate the inauguration of Lord Enver Gortash.

A masquerade ball will be hosted this evening, wear your best attire.

Location: Wyrm’s Rock Fortress

Attire: Masks mandatory

This invitation should be presented upon arrival, to ensure access is allowed.”

You read the letter aloud and sigh exasperated, flinging your hands down to your sides another letter falls out from the envelope. Quickly you snatch it up and begin reading it out loud.

“My dearest Ally, Tav,

It would delight me to have you at my side for this special occasion, I have left you a gown with Figaro, he tells me you are well acquainted.

My one request is to have you until the end of the first dance, you may then break away to mingle should you wish to do so.

Yours loyally

E”

You scoff and place the letter down on the table. “That’s hardly enough notice at all. I knew he was delusional, but really? As if we would even entertain letting you out of our sights for even a moment." You turn to Tav and the rest of the group as they all look around uncomfortably. "What? What am I missing?" You arch an eyebrow at your lover.

"Well, Astarion, we are still his 'Allies'. We can't afford to not give him what he wants, lest we raise any suspicions," her voice is soft as she nervously plays with her hands. "I know it is asking a lot to let me do this, however, it's just for show and it's one dance. Then I will come straight back to you, I promise." She walks forward, takes your hands and you feel a slight tremble in hers.

"Yes, well, it may just be for a little while, but need I remind you that we have been having some rather rude interruptions of our own from my siblings? What if they are there? Even if they're not, what if Gortash wants you for more than just a dance?" Your voice raises in pitch slightly near the end of your question, and you feel the anxiety settling in the pit of your stomach. Are you… jealous? Nonsense. You have nothing to be jealous of… what can Gortash give her that you can't?

Well, I suppose he could give her riches, power beyond measure, and… protection… he would be able to protect her. Something I have not been capable of thus far. You stop yourself and push those thoughts deep down. You'll deal with them later.

“Fine. If you want to parade around all evening with Enver then who am I to stop you?” The words come out sharp and you watch her wince at their sting. You exit the room to your sleeping quarters and fall back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling you feel your chest tighten as you think about her in someone else’s arms.

___________

Tav:

As you stand there, you try to compose yourself. You will deal with him later. He is being very childish right now, and perhaps he needs a moment to collect his thoughts. For him to even imply that you would spend all evening with Gortash is ridiculous.

“Gale? Would you mind accompanying me to Facemaker’s Boutique?” You turn to the wizard who seems a little too happy that you had chosen him for this task. Perhaps Shadowheart would have been the better choice but Gale… you were close with Gale, he was a dear friend to you who had always taken the time to listen when you needed to be heard. You needed some time with a trusted friend and Gale was the most trusted.

"It would be my pleasure," he says, bowing slightly at the waist. As the two of you exit the Elfsong Tavern, you make your way towards Figaro’s shop. “He’ll be okay. I think he’s jealous of Gortash's interest in you,” he calmly says, trying to ease the tension.

“He has nothing to be jealous over. It is ridiculous to imply that I would stay a moment longer than needed at Gortash’s side.” You bite out. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I just want to get this over with.”

Gale offers you a smile as he places his hand on your shoulder and gives it a soft squeeze. “It’s alright Tav, you don’t need to explain yourself. Let’s get through this evening and go from there, however, I believe we should have an escape plan in case any unexpected situations occur.” His face darkens with concern. “There is a sigil that can lead us back to camp, but reaching it may be challenging. I came across an amulet that allows the wearer to cast a Dimension Door spell, I’d like you to wear it that evening. I will feel more at ease knowing that you have options.”

“Thank you, Gale, you are a good friend… I am glad I pulled you out of that rock.” You smile at him and place a hand on his arm, he nods and returns a smile as the two of you arrive outside Facemaker’s Boutique.

After about half an hour of small talk with Figaro, you and Gale have made your way back to the Elfsong Tavern with your mask and dress. Gale had chosen dress clothes and a mask for himself.

You decided to buy Astarion an outfit that would complement your gown, along with a matching mask. You hoped that this would help him move past his reservations.

You spend the rest of the day washing your hair, helping Shadowheart choose between two dresses, and running through plans of escape if anything were to go wrong.

“Grab whoever is closest at the time, use dimension door to get to the sigil and then use said sigil to return here safely… did I get that right?” You sarcastically look at Gale, this is the third time he has made you repeat this plan. He raises his hands and says “Alright, I am satisfied.”

Rolling your eyes, you excuse yourself and make your way toward yours and Astarion's room. You open the door slowly and cautiously only to find the room empty. On your pillow is a piece of parchment with a note in his handwriting.

“Gone for a bite to eat - I will see you at the celebration. - A”

Sighing you place his outfit on the pillow and scribble a note back on the other side.

You retrieve the bag that holds your dress and open it. It is probably the most beautiful item of clothing you own. The dress is form-fitting, hugging the curves of your body with a slit up the left side, long sleeves, and a shallow v-neckline. It's nothing too scandalous nor too conservative. The colour is a deep midnight blue, but as the fabric moves, it shimmers silver as if Figaro stitched the stars themselves into the material. Your hair is loosely braided, and you have opted for a pair of silver sandals with ribbons that crisscross their way up your calf, stopping just below your knee. The amulet Gale has given you is a silver chain with a single ring-shaped pendant in the middle. Finally, your mask takes the shape of an owl bear’s face, the colour matches your dress, a midnight blue and shimmering in the light.

As you leave the room, you encounter your companions in the shared quarters. All eyes are on you, and you swear you see Gale’s face flush as he says, “You look wonderful.” You give him a small nod of appreciation and announce that you will be heading to Gortash for the first half of the evening and that you will meet them there.

You take the sigil to Wyrm’s Rock, present your invitation, and proceed to Gortash’s private quarters. Softly you knock on the door and hear him call out on the other side “Who is it?”

“It’s Tav, I figured you wanted to enter the celebration together. I can wait out here if you need more time.” You keep your voice calm even when your stomach feels like it might cave in.

“Oh! What a brilliant idea. The people need to see us united. Let’s talk business shall we?” He crosses the room and opens the door. He has opted for his usual all-black colour palette, however, his mask is a deep red in the shape of a skull. He places his hand on the small of your back and guides you inside. This is going to be a long evening, you think to yourself.

__________

Astarion:

The hunt wasn't very successful, but you managed to corner a small boar. It would do for the evening. Back at the Elfsong Tavern, you return to your room, on the way you hear the rest of your companions laughing as they get ready for this evening’s festivities. You stalk your way to the bedroom and find it empty. Walking to your bed you see the note has been scribbled on and placed atop an outfit and a mask. Picking up the piece of parchment you see her handwriting and it reads:

“Came to give you this to wear tonight - I look forward to seeing you I love you.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you place the note down to pick up the outfit she had bought you and begin to dress. No one has ever bought you something this extraordinary before, hells, no one has ever bought anything new for you. The top is a dark blue, detailed with constellations on the front, the sleeves are long and the fabric is a soft silk. The trousers are cool-toned grey with one black stripe running down along the outside of the legs. The mask is an owl bear’s face, the colour a midnight blue but when you shift it in the light, it shimmers like the constellations on your shirt. You find a pair of black leather boots that you recently purchased and slip them on. For good measure, you tuck one dagger in the side of each boot and make your way to the group.

“Well, don’t we all look ravishing?” You say leaning in the doorway. “I believe it’s time to go now, let’s not keep Tav waiting too long, hmm?” You take the sigil to Wyrm’s Rock, your companions arriving seconds later and you make your way in.

As you enter the hall, you scan the room, searching for her. You spot her standing next to Gortash, near his throne. Gods, she's beautiful, you think to yourself. Your eyes take her in, the form-fitting dress hugs her body in all the right places. Your eyes roam down her figure and gods above the slit exposing her left leg sends a rush of blood to your core. Her dress a deep midnight blue is a stark contrast to her fair skin but it complements her, as the fabric moves you see shimmers rippling across the fabric they look like… constellations. You glance down at your shirt and realise what she has done. It's her way of showing you that she is yours—the matching colours, the embellishments, and the matched masks.

The moment is soon over as you watch Gortash place his hand on her lower back as he whispers something in her ear. You watch as she throws her head back in a laugh returning a smile to him.

"I need a drink," you announce to your companions. Stalking over to the refreshment table, you grab two glasses of wine, quickly downing the first in one gulp. You have nothing to worry about, you know that she is just playing the game with him but yet it makes your blood boil. Let’s just get this over with, you think to yourself.

Suddenly, the room grows quiet as the first song begins to play, marking the start of the festivities. You watch as Gortash leads her to the floor, his arms encircling her waist, pulling her into a tight grip as he sways to the music with his body pressed against hers. You feel as though you might be sick at the sight of it.

After what feels like a lifetime the other guests join in creating a sea of swaying bodies. You grab Shadowheart by the hand and pull her towards the dance floor.

“Astarion what are you doing?” Her face was visibly shocked. “I am taking back what is mine.” You growl as you twirl and sway your way through the crowd. Alliance be damned you will not allow him to hold her any moment longer.

You are now dancing alongside them catching part of their conversation. Gortash leans to her ear and speaks boldly, “We could be good together, you know? Your talent for persuasion, my ability to rule with an iron fist. Not to mention you are absolutely mouth-watering.”

“I’m flattered Gortash, however, mixing business with pleasure is never a good idea.” She quips back earning herself a wicked smile from him. “You may change your mind, think on it.” He says with a sly smirk.

He pulls back, taking her hand and twirling her in a spin. You expertly intercept, spinning Shadowheart in Tav's place, a quick apology escaping your lips. She looks back at you with daggers in her eyes, while Gortash flashes a wicked smile, his eyes gleaming at the silent challenge you have just issued.

Tav looks up at you, and before she can say anything, your mouth crashes down on hers. Parting her lips, you slip in your tongue; the kiss is sloppy and hot with passion. She pulls away, breathless. "Astarion, what has gotten into you? We cannot afford to make another enemy right now.” Her eyes scan your face, gripping her hand you sweep her away out to the balcony.

“Astarion what is wrong?” Her voice is softer, laced with concern.

“His hands were all over you. The way he looked at you. The way you laughed with him… He can offer you riches, power… protection” You whisper, “I cannot compete with that. Who am I compared to that? A helpless spawn who has brought you nothing but trouble.”

"I'm not asking you to compete, Astarion. There is no competition, and even if there were, you would win by a landslide." Her voice is soft as you place your hands on the railing and lean over the balcony to look down.

She walks up to you and wraps her arms around you from behind, resting her head between your shoulder blades. She softly speaks, “Do you want to know the moment I knew that I had fallen for you?” She says as she pulls back her arms laced around your neck, you give her a soft nod.

"At the blighted village, when we heard that ogre and bugbear rutting in the barn, everyone else turned up their noses at my suggestion to open the door. But you looked at me with a devilish grin and asked if you could interrupt them. As soon as you kicked that door open, I knew a life with you would be filled with mischief, fun, and excitement. I realised I could be myself around you, and you would just jump right in with me, no questions asked. I was so right about you. Life with you so far has been entertaining in the best possible way. Even with me becoming a spawn, we get to do this forever. I used to dream of finding ways to be with you eternally, but I didn’t have to go searching—it found me. I refuse to let this change be something negative. No, it is a gift."

You stand there still looking out over the cliffs of Wyrm’s Crossing letting her words sink in as she continues. "You're too hard on yourself, you know? You are amazing, you just haven't been allowed to shine.”

You shift around to face her, dropping your gaze to meet her eyes. "And do I… shine?" your voice is soft, and you hate how pathetic it sounds.

"You are the brightest star in my skies," she whispers, taking your hands in hers.

Closing her eyes, she opens her mind, utilising the tadpole. As you connect to her thoughts, she shares everything that has happened between the two of you. You witness it all through her eyes, seeing yourself as she sees you. Your throat tightens at the images that play between your interlocked minds, and for the first time, you believe that you are worth something. You have spent too long dead in the box Cazador placed you in, it’s time to start living again.

You place a soft kiss on her cheek and pull her towards the sound of the music holding her close to you as you sway in time with the ballad. Your hands slide down her waist and rest themselves on her backside, she twists her face to yours her eyes flashing with mischief.

“This dress is dangerous, little love. I can’t wait to see it on the floor of our room.” You bend down whispering in her ear as you rake your lips along her jaw.

___________

Tav:

His lips trace hot kisses down your neck and you don’t care about where you are anymore, all you care about is his touch.

“TAV. TAV! It is time to go NOW” Gale forces himself into your mind. Your head snaps up and Astarion tenses, his body already on high alert. You glance around the room taking in your surroundings and in all directions you see a few glowing red eyes under the masks of attendees all making their way through the crowd to you.

“Astarion- .”

“I see them. Don’t worry.” He cuts you off holding you close to him. His hand glides down his side and reaches into his boot. One of the spawns reaches his side, Astarion slams his dagger upwards into its body and it disappears in a cloud of red ash. The crowd separates in a panic as the other spawns run towards you. Another appears to your side, Astarion pulls you away propelling his dagger into their neck and again they vanish.

Gortash sees the commotion, orders the steel watch to intervene and the machines start making their way to aid you. You lock eyes with him and he gives you a small nod.

You grip Astarion’s shirt and he glances down at you “Quod dice face!” you yell and the two of you are teleported to the sigil where your party awaits.

“We can’t keep running like this! It needs to end Tav! It has to end.” You scan his face and you can see he is tired, tired of running… tired of these games.

“I know… I know. We go back to the Elfsong now, we take the evening to plan, gather the supplies and rest. In the morning we will leave.” You rarely use this tone however they have appointed you their leader and lead you shall. Running and avoiding was only making matters worse, the time has come to take action.

You find yourselves back in the main area of the shared quarters, everyone has their roles assigned to them. Shadowheart is readying her healing potions and antidotes, Gale is preparing spells that he thinks will be the most effective, Karlach has asked Lae’Zel to help sharpen her blades and you and Astarion are running over the layout of the palace. There is only one entrance so the element of surprise may be an issue but you will work with what is given.

After a few hours of everyone preparing you have decided to call it a night, all of you need rest for tomorrow. Your companions head to their beds for the night as you and Astarion make your way to your shared room. You start to remove your dress and you feel his hand fall on yours.

“Little love, I still want to take that dress off of you.” He whispers into your ear and a chill runs down your spine. Slowly his hands glide up your arms as he pulls one arm out of the dress at a time. He trails kisses down along your neck and across your collarbone as he pulls the remainder of your dress down until it lands in a pool on the floor.

“You are so beautiful.” He kisses your cheek. “So thoughtful.” Another kiss to your lips. “So strong.” His lips graze your neck. You release a soft moan and tilt your head to the side allowing him better access. “… and so, very generous.” He breathes and sinks his teeth into you, he pulls you into him with one hand placed on your stomach holding you in place. His other trails down your body and his fingers slip between the folds of your heated core. He groans against your neck in appreciation of your readiness for him. He works his finger in slow lazy circles around your swollen bud, the sensation teases you most delightfully.

After the third pull from your neck, he releases his bite and kisses the little puncture wounds. He is still rubbing tantalising circles in you as he guides you back to the bed. Just before he settles the both of you down he shifts below you and lands on the mattress placing you on top. His fingers never missing a beat, he places two fingers deep inside you while he rubs the pad of his thumb against your sensitive bud. He angles his head to the side offering you his neck and slowly you bite down hearing his breath catch. As you take your first pull of his blood into your mouth your body catches fire and you start riding his fingers. Stars appear in your vision, your breathing becomes shallow and you shatter into a wave of pleasure.

“Hmmm, good girl.” He says as he brings his fingers to his mouth cleaning them off slowly as you watch him. He folds his arms around you and kisses you deeply, “Let’s rest now little love, we have a big day tomorrow.”

You nod and inhale his scent… sleep finds you shortly after.

_________________

Astarion:

Petrichor and cinnamon, you breathe her in as the morning light trickles in through a crack in the curtains. She lies sleeping on your chest and you watch her head rise and fall with every breath you take. You need to succeed today, you have so much you want to experience with her, you want to build a life with her, have a home with her… hells you would start a family with her if it were possible. You’d find a way to make it possible. You want to give her everything and more.

You place a soft kiss on her forehead and she stirs awake. “Good morning, lover.” You say teasingly as a goofy smile spreads across her face.

“Good morning… lover.” She plants a small kiss on your neck and cuddles herself into you. A moment later she sighs, “I suppose we need to get up now.”

“Yes, but today is the start of a new beginning, my love.” You peel yourself out of bed and begin dressing in your leather armour. She follows you reluctantly putting on her armour that is quite similar to yours, black leather pants, a black leather top and boots that sit just below the knee. You chuckle to yourself, matching murder outfits…how cute.

As the two of you make your way to your party you hand her a glass bottle with some blood you had saved from your most recent hunt. You share it as a top-up, last night’s blood sharing was more than enough but you would rather be safe than sorry.

You find yourselves standing at the entrance to the palace and you hear a soft click. “Well, that’s suspiciously welcoming.” You open the door cautiously and find… no one. You all enter the building standing in the foyer taking in your surroundings.

“So this is it. I’m home. There’s the same fading carpet, the same tasteless art… nothing’s changed, but gods, everything feels different.” You look around the building feeling anxious.

“What’s it like being back?” She asks placing a hand on your back.

“It does feel strange, breaking into your own home. Especially if murder is on your mind. Then again this is hardly the strangest thing we’ve done together. Although it could be the most satisfying. Well, the second most satisfying…” You give her a playful smile as her cheeks flush.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” She asks softly her eyes searching yours with concern.

“Oh, I’ve never been less sure of anything. But if I don’t face him now, I never will. We’ll spend the rest of our lives running, watching the shadows, never feeling safe. No, this has to happen. Here and now.” You pull her into a hug.

Today is the day you take back your life. Today Cazador will get what is coming for him. At the end of this, it will be him on his knees begging you to show mercy… and just as he taught you, there will be no mercy for the weak and pathetic.

You wanted me here? Well, here I am you bastard. Today I will hear you scream in pain, you will die at my hands.

_______

Part 4 here

[whimsiandwild]

Claws

Pairing: Gortash x gn!Durge [Durgetash]

WC: 894

Warnings: It's filth. It's smut. It's consensual. It's bloody. It's everything you'd want for them. Oral sex [giving]. blood play, praise/degradation kink

A/N: Please be kind. I haven't written smut or fanfiction for a very long time. Thank you to @ixora111 for this magnificent prompt. Enjoyt the gremlin king, all.

You glared up into the dark, taunting eyes of you lover, rage swirling your insides as Gortash flashed that arrogant, knowing smirk at you.

Enver Gortash.

You hated this fucker with a passion, but needed him just as desperately. It was almost as if your soul wasn’t whole unless he was within your vicinity, your father be damned.

“Now, now, kitten,” he chuckled, running the rough pad of his thumb over your lips. “We’ve barely even started and there’s already murder in your eyes. I excite you so quickly? Pathetic, really.”

If he hadn’t tied your hands behind your back, you’d throttle him to within an inch of his life… and then use his body at your will. It was truly embarrassing how feral the man made you, sauntering around like the king of the fucking castle, shirtless and delectable as always. You had known where this was going the moment he’d ordered you to his quarters, and you’d gone willingly. Disgusting. You were a child of Bhaal, the chosen of Bhaal no less, and here you were, almost prostating for the man. You’d never live down the shame.

“You know what’s coming, why aren’t you ready?” With a deep breath, you swallowed your pride and let your mouth fall open and slack, enraged by the pleasure his approval sent buzzing through you. “Well done, kitten.”

You expected him to do the usual; fuck your throat with his fingers until he decided to gag you with his cock; but he lifted his gloved hand, your eyes widening in shock. Before you could speak to protest, he’d shoved his clawed index and middle finger into your waiting mouth, the metal scraping the top and causing you to cry out.

To your surprise, he was uncharacteristically gentle, slowly sliding his fingers down your throat as far as you could take them, a savage glint in his eye as you felt the cold sting of the claws brush against your delicate flesh. You had to breathe hard through your nose as he went further, your eyes watering as you refused to give this cunt the satisfaction of you gagging; you could already taste your own blood trickling down your throat as he began to fuck your throat slowly.

“You were always so skilled at taking what I offered, kitten. Such a greedy little thing,” he winked, your teeth almost clamping down on his knuckles until he stuck his claws into the skin behind your tonsils; you were unable to stop yourself retching this time. “Any more of that and you’ll be lucky I don’t rip out the entire thing, you little cunt.” His tone was vicious but his gaze was filled with lust, especially as you gave a muted moan at the threat. “Gods, you are depraved.”

Gortash began to move his fingers faster, losing some of their gentleness and leaving small nicks in your delicate flesh, your fists clenching behind your back. Heat was pooling in your stomach as you let him continue his sadistic abuse, your desperation for him becoming paramount as you shifted position. It didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Absolutely not.”

Yanking his fingers away, enjoying the growl that left you as he injured your tongue, blood dripping from his claws as he undid his breeches. Gods, he was rock hard and leaking, and you needed to taste him like it was the first time all over again.

There was no time to think before he slammed himself into you, your eyes bulging at the sudden fullness filling your throat. The guttaral noise that left him as he pressed himself flat against you, your nails clawing at your palms as he did, left you weak, pitifully pliable, completely at his will. He thrust with abandon, lost in the pleasure he was forcing you to bestow against him.

“Look at the mess you’ve made,” he hissed, his cock coated in your blood and saliva, his hips snapping as he gripped the hair at the back of your head to hold you in place. “It’s always a huge.. nngh.. mess with you, eh, kitten? A monster here, a few dozen corpses there… it’s enough to make someone sick.”

You sucked in your cheeks, your mind reeling as he stuttered for a brief moment before continuing his assault. There had been many an occasion where you’d shoved him atop one of the bodies you’d mutilated, needing to have him then and there, blood coating you both and viscera surrounding you; they’d been some of the best orgasms you’d ever had in your life.

As you felt him swelling, his thrust sloppy as he picked up speed, you realised no one would ever know how to please you like him. No one would ever know you like him. And it made you feel ill. This was nothing more than a mutual partnership. A very beneficial one. Nothing more.

Gortash almost doubled over as he spilled into you, hot and salty as you swallowed around him, only causing more convulsions from the man, along with a strew of curses.

He staggered backwards, shoving you onto your back as he tried to catch your breath. Blood matted the hair at the base of his still hard shaft, the man gazing down at you hungrily before falling to his knees.

“Very good, kitten. Please, allow me to repay the favour..”

[amaranthsynthesis]

One for a Death, Two for a Pair // durgetash crane wife au

One for a Death, Two for a Pair || durgetash || E || chapter 1/? alternate universe, inspired by Tsuru Nyouboi | The Crane Wife (Japan Folk Tale), canon-typical violence, durge-typical violence, blood and gore, inadvisable first aid efforts, wound fingering, trans male character, masturbation, other additional tags to be added

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“Break the shaft. No fletching. You must―you must push it through,” the man says, and his arm stutters to a stop before he can raise it high enough to demonstrate, some vital muscle torn beyond use. He drops it, resigned. “I may scream. You must not stop.”

Enver Flymm has worked in his parents' shop mending and making shoes his entire life. When they die, they leave behind a mountain of debt that threatens to bury him alive without ever once pursuing a passion of his own. Repressed and hopeless, it's all he can do to make it through each monotonous day--until one of Bhaal's Cranes falls from the sky, and he finds a half-dead drow where it crashed.

-

What if Gortash's parents never sold him to Raphael? And what if Bhaalspawn worked a little bit differently? I've been turning this over in my head like a really cool rock for a few weeks now, and although I am pretty nervous about posting my first fic with A Plot, I'm pleased with this first bit and optimistic about my outline! Check it out if you're interested, and if you enjoy it leave a comment or send me an ask :)))

Read here!

[cringecannon]

dubcon Gortash this, dubcon Gortash that - what about the least toxic couple which is Gortash and a very evil durge. What about them?

accidentally interpreted this as pre-tadpole but it's too cute not to post. anyway what about them? they r getting it on freak nasty style in a dirty alleyway

I mean, come on, with how busy your combined schedules are, there isn't much time for well-planned, nice date nights. Sometimes, you're both hiding in some dark alley, backs pressed to the stone wall as you both pant and try to catch your breath after a successful escape. You roll your head to the side to look at him. Watching the erratic rise and fall of his chest, the sweat dripping down his temple, the dried blood on his shirt, and your heart finally calms. Then, you start to laugh.

He finally turns to look at you, and it's not long before he starts to laugh as well. Your hand finds his bicep for support and he leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours. You're not sure who makes the first move, but in between laughs, you're kissing him. He kisses down your jaw and neck, his arms wrapping around your waist. Your hand finds his hair, gripping it between your fingers before pulling him off you. You stare into his eyes with a smile before shoving him to the ground, hard.

He sits up on his elbows, watching with a sly grin as you place your feet on either side of his hips. He groans when you suddenly drop to your knees, landing square on his lap. You grind your hips against him and his head falls back against the ground, hands flying to your waist. Neither of you have the patience to tease it out.

It's not long before you're sliding down his cock with a groan, biting your lip as his eyes flutter closed. You watch his face, skin flushed red as you ride him, rocking your hips slowly as his hands trail back and forth over your hips and thighs like he doesn't know where to grab you. You'd kill to have this view forever. You have. One of your hands finds his throat, not squeezing, just enough to catch his attention. His eyes crack open, meeting your gaze. You stare him down, rolling your hips as you tell him you'll never let him go. He nods frantically, swallowing visibly as he agrees. He'll never let you go, either. Your hand tightens on his throat with another hard roll of your hips. Swear it, Enver. He groans, fingers digging into your hips as he swears, swears on everything he holds dear that you'll be his and he will be yours, forever and always. You laugh, relaxing your grip and grabbing him by the jaw. With half-lidded eyes, you lean down to whisper. Forever and always. You'll hold him to it.

[littlemourningstarr]

ask wife about two characters again

“Maybe you could use that mouth for more than just talking nonsense.”

Please note that my wife went off the rails and decided on Gortash and Gale.

She's dubbed this Galetash. I cannot resist.

(Also I sat on this forever Abyss I appreciate you sending these!!)

"This tome is priceless," Gale said, admiring the book in his hands. It was a dark leather, bulette if the wizard was correct, adored with gems that would pulse from purple to a blood red.

Inside, were scribblings from some Kiaransalee's crones- dating back centuries. Necromnacy that hadn't seen the light of day- well, possibly ever, considering it originated in the Underdark.

"It's just junk," Enver said, from his desk, carefully plotting out along a map new patrol routes for his Steel Watch. The latest batch was taking longer than he wanted to be completed, and he was hoping to move some outside of Rivington, as the city had been expanding since the fall of the Absolute.

A fall that should have ended with his death.

"Junk?" Gale whipped around, opening the book and flipping through the well worn pages. Many had torn edges. "This book hasn't seen eyes on it in centuries. Necromancy from some of the Underdark's goddess of of undeath's strongest clerics."

"A feeble deity," Enver muttered. "Lolth is the only one of the drow pantheon that is worthy of note."

Gale scoffed. "I would disagree."

"As you so often do."

Gale frowned, marching across the room and dropping the book on Enver's desk, on top of his map. "Look at this spell- amalgamations without surgery, flesh melting together to create new life. Or, unlife."

Enver pushed the book away, a little scowl pulling at his lips. He wasn't in the mood for the wizard's rambling- he needed to focus, he had meetings starting early as it was-

And then he realized Gale was still talking.

"Maybe you could use that mouth for more than just talking nonsense," Enver muttered. He hadn't even meant to, but he was lacking sleep, and it was making him irritable.

Gale went quiet- so much so that Enver glanced up, found the wizard was staring at him with those gorgeous brown eyes, mouth pulled into a frown.

"Gale," he started, but the wizard held a hand up, effectively silencing him. He expected him to pick up the book he had plucked from one of Enver's bookshelves, storm out, possibly teleport himself back to Waterdeep.

Instead he grabbed the back of Enver's chair, jerking it back. The wood legs dragged on the floor, and Enver nearly lost his balance. His chair was pushed out enough that Gale could slip between he and the desk, and without a word the wizard dropped down to his knees.

Enver felt a lump growing in his throat, as Gale reached out, learned fingers plucking the lacing of his pants open. All the archduke could do was stare, until Gale's hand slipped into his pants, gave his cock a very firm squeeze through his underwear.

Enver sucked a breath in through his teeth, the touch bordering on pain. "What are you-"

"Shut up," Gale said, glancing up, eyes dark through his lashes. "I'm taking your advice, Lord Gortash." His name was nearly spat, and oh, the wizard was pissed, Enver could tell.

But gods, Gale was so very delectable when he was pissed.

Gale squeezed him again, handling him roughly. Despite that, Enver's cock twitched, swelled to Gale's touch- after all, Enver did enjoy when things got a bit rough.

Gale plucked him free, fingertips running along his cock, pinching at the head. Enver bit at his cheek as precum beaded up his slit, trailing down the underside of his cock. Gale watched the single trickle with amusement, his lips twitching into a smirk.

He wrapped his hand around Enver then, stroking him properly. Enver dropped his head back, not even bothering to question why Gale would bother touching him while he was so irritated- it honestly didn't matter. He was thinking with his cock, and not much else.

Stress, it did awful things to a man.

Enver rocked his hips, Gale's fist bumping at his glans. He was holding his cock exactly as Enver liked- a bit on the firm side, stroking roughly. Gods, it made his belly go to tight knots already.

He wasn't going to last long- but that didn't matter. Enver didn't care. He hadn't gotten off in days, he was pent up- and fuck, maybe after this the wizard would suck his cock until he was hard again, so he could bend him over the desk.

He was so close, his eyes shut now, basking in the sheer bliss of near orgasm. His cock was aching, so fucking hard that he was sure Gale had to know he was close.

He groaned, his whole body tense, a wire inside him snapping-

And the moment his orgasm hit, Gale pulled his hand back. Enver's eyes shot open, his cock spurting a pathetic bit of cum as his orgasm was utterly ruined, his muscle aching but trying to contract. He gave a frustrated grunt, as Gale stood up, looking smug.

The wizard grabbed the book off Enver's desk, taking a few steps from the desk before turning on his heel to face Enver. "Come find me when you're feeling more like a gentleman and less like an asshole, Enver. And then maybe if you use your mouth to convince me to forgive you, I'll fix what I just ruined."

With that Gale was gone, teleporting from the keep- presumably, back to Waterdeep.

Enver reached up, rubbed his hands along his face. His head was aching now, his body thrumming with unsatisfied desire.

And fuck, he still had work to do.

[anderstrevelyan]

My Blood Your Paint

Rating: M / Pairing: The Dark Urge/Enver Gortash (one-sided—thanks, amnesia) / Word Count: 3,139

If you’d told me when I started this game that my writing brain would be consumed by this particular antagonist I would not have believed you, but hey, here we are! I’m working on more about Valas (and Gortash) set before the game, but it seems fitting for my first posted Baldur’s Gate fic to be about the scene that started it all.

Here's the Act 3 coronation from Gortash’s perspective.

Excerpt below, and you can read the rest on AO3.

Today was supposed to be the best day of Enver Gortash’s life. Everything was to be his. Everything. Exactly as it always should have been, from the moment Bane looked into his black heart and saw the makings of a lord. After all the cold, long years he’s spent, belittled and betrayed, building himself up with unwavered faith to close his fist around the kind of power Baldur’s Gate has never seen: to become its first Archduke. Yet it was incredibly clear, long before today’s vaunted coronation, that today won’t be the uncomplicated triumph he’s long imagined. Ketheric is dead. Orin is unstable, wavering, threatening to carve out the plan’s still-barely-beating heart—the antithesis of anything he would have chosen in an ally. The brain threatens to revolt, rumbling beneath the very streets, sparking his own panic even as he stands straight to solve everyone else’s. And Ketheric’s killers, utter unknowns, bearers of the third Netherstone—they remain the key. And so this day, his day, becomes all about them.

No matter. He’ll convince them, that standing with him is the way forward, the only way to best the brain: through logic, through charm, through the power of pageantry—or through force, if it comes to that. He just wishes—as he makes the final touches to his hair and pins the last golden brooch to his lapel, as he descends the winding stairs of Wyrm’s Rock, as he hands the ceremonial sword to Ulder Ravengard, mind tadpole-tethered and tamed—he wishes he had more to go on about what makes these mysterious adventurers tick. Orin had tried to plant a treacherous little seed, of course, and he curses himself for sparing it another thought. With a toss of her braid, affectedly aloof, and the exact right idea to carve into his skull: that her sibling, Bhaal’s fallen Chosen, his own lost everything, lives still. Is among those adventurers. Is on his way to him here, today, has accepted an invitation to these very formalities. Gortash didn’t fail to notice the cruelty in Orin’s eyes as she’d said it, had tried to focus on its memory as he heard of sightings across Rivington, through his Steel Watch and more quiet observers—or at least, sightings of someone wearing his face. Gortash wasn’t going to fall for that again, even as each report sparked an unwanted shock of hope through his heart. It’s not him. It can’t really be him. He focuses instead on the details of the audience hall: takes a silent roll call of the invited patriars, in their ceremonial best to greet the city’s new dawn, checks and re-checks its defenses, the Steel Watchers standing sentry and the traps, gilded gold, ready to make ash of anyone who tries to intervene. Orin and her ilk won’t come here. Even she wouldn’t dare. By the time he feels a faint resonance in the stone secured to the back of his hand, he’s calm again. Confident. Sure, as he listens to Dillard Portyr introduce him with a dull-as-ever speech, that he has this in his control. But when the far doors open, when he’s sure the newcomers are the ones he seeks, when they come close enough for him to see Valas DeVir’s face—that’s when Gortash knows he’d been wrong. Gods below, this really is the best day of his life.

(keep reading)

[chizups]

How does Gortash feel when Durga reappears in Act 3? How does their relationship change?

Well, for the start I'd say all his strongest emotions about meeting his old friend began boiling inside of him as soon as he even heard that Durga is alive or at least when the adventurous party came close enough to Wyrm's Rock. Though I'd love to imagine him almost unable to contain his excitement, skipping those steps and almost falling on the stairs while running to greet her, he obviously capable of present himself as quite reserved even if obviously pleased looking.

Most of his joy fades away when he actually sees Durga in front of him: that woman who had been confident and carried herself accordingly now hardly looked like one. She is at the moment still quite unsure of herself and of the rightness of her actions, because from the moment she woke up on the beach, many things felt wrong. Gortash sees her uncertainty and deep down he is very annoyed by it. Add to this the fact that Gortash very diligently accustomed Durga to expensive jewelry and fabrics in the past, and now she stood in front of him, at best, in a very inexpensive outfit (and at worst, her "torn" dress) which does not reflect the status she deserves at all (in his mind).

Fun fact: the dress with slits on the shoulders that I originally drew her in should be an allusion to the dress that I draw pretadpole version of her in, that is, in essence, her new outfit is her torn old dress, just cartoon stylized.

Whatever changes Gortash sees in Durga he blames on her party first and foremost (and he is not 100% wrong doing that). He's not very happy about them existing and is very determined to get his 'caretaker' back. Durga wants to know desperately about who she was and what life she had, because this knowledge makes her feel complete, and Gortash is quite ready to share whatever info she wants to know about herself.

Changes in their relationship are inevitable. Durga, who has lost her memory, can hardly remember clearly how close she and Gortash were, and what they did for each other - this is reflected in her look and behavior, which cannot but sadden her old friend - but she trusts him, and he clings to it. In this state, she is not able to play the same role that she played before amnesia, so we can say that for some time they switched places: Enver was ready to care for her. In his own way. One thing is for sure: Gortash does not judge her true nature when other do, and this adds a significant number of points to him, and that is something he is arrogantly proud of.

I hope it's not too much text and I did answer your question... I am not sure xD

Their relationship continue to change post game as well, but it's AU territory, so a story for another post, I guess.

[mahiiimahiiii]

Young durgetash drable, I'm insane . (Will be using Wynne from my durge route 💫)

NSFW! Minors DNI!!!

Tldr: a young lord gortash celebrates his new lordship with his childhood friend

Cw:/ piv, semi public sex, sex in an odd place, local 20 year olds consummate their craving for each other

The echos of the party boomed in the distance, amongst the thorny vines of a rose labyrinth Lord Enver Gortash had a craving to fill.

The moon glazed off the tall drows features, silken brown skin marred with tight peach scars. Her burgundy eyes almost looked silver by the light of the moon. Lips puffed outward, sleeves pulled below the shoulder. Seams popped against the air, taught against her skin. A deep red color turned purple by the light of the moon.

The fountain droned on as Gortash untied her bustier, kissing her breast that fell out of the loosened clothes. He took the hardened nipple into his mouth shifting to remove the rest from her torso. It pooled around her hips, revealing the frills of her underwear.

"my my, you're a blessing." He crooned stepping off of her to allow her space to maneuver out of it. She slipped her sandals off kicking the loose fabric into the brush. She seated herself back in his lap cupping his inky black hair and tilting his head up.

"I have never felt this- for anything other than blood. But you ...make me feel... Things other than the thirst for it. I thirst for something more- I think. You are an evil thing, worming your way into my mind." Wynne hummed as his hands found her thighs, cupping, squeezing and pinching the bared flesh.

She rocked her hips, grasping his hair and curling into him. His stubble sketched the sides of her cheek, lips a rosy pink and eyes glazed over. She traced his pouted lower lip, his lips were chapped.

She pushed him down amongst the side of the fountain. Her fingers nimbly lifted his cotton undershirt, kissing from his navel to sternum. His hands pushing her hips down against his, cool night air rushing around them. "How I yearn to taste your skin..."

"later on my darling, this isn't the place for that." He gasped at her cool hand slipping through his waistband. "Ah my love, certainly you are- craving this at another time."

"there is no time like the present, lording. I crave you now." Her ears twitched in anticipation "but if you are unsure..."

"no.." he paused, his voice hushed "id like- I'd love that... I too have been craving this sweet sensation... For a while. Since you grew- flourished- I've craved you. I've been patient."

"Enver- you don't know what you do to me." She closed in on his lips, his hand taught around her hips. He tasted of sweet sherry and smoke, his cologne of oak and magnolia.

His skin bloomed pink in the hazy light. Steely eyes softened to a gaze of carnal need. He shoved down his trousers. He let out a low hum pulling aside the frills of his lovers undergarments, a smile of pride at her wet folds. He kissed her lazily, pinching and squeezing her clit- a delightful volley of sighs falling from her lips.

Her hair clung to the sweat on her face, curling against her ears and the furrow of her brow. Wynne nipped at his ear, pulling at his lobe his skin bloomed colors under her not so gentle touch. She licked a stripe up his vein feeling his faint and thrumming pulse under her.

His fingers prodded at her entrance, piercing her on them. She gasped into his mouth, feeling him curl inside her.

"you will feel heavenly, I know of it. Maybe something not of this world. Tell me if it hurts- you'll let me know, right my dove?"

His touch receded, replaced with the warmth of his head. Fingers fumbling to grasp onto something, he gided her hips onto him, lips clasped into a tight kiss.

The stretch was divine.

She felt her sides tighten, cramping down around him. The pain was immaculate.

She sat back admiring the view of the lord. He was undone in the best way, hair splayed about him, hands shivering at the touch of her skin. To be embedded in something so wonderful- his eyes relaxed to the heavens.

"I am... Not going to last much." His breath was strained, feeling an ache within his core. "This is so embarrassing. I had wished it.. our first time wouldn't be so short." His chest heaved, thighs flexing under her weight.

Every throb and twitch was matched with the tightest squeeze. His hand snuck between them wet with spit to circle around her clit. The other hand cupped her chin, guiding her lips to his.

Her ears wiggled even at the softest movement of his hips, the tang of copper from his tongue and the sighs from his lips. Her own private performance, her own symphony.

"you are abseloutely delicious, defiling the little lord, your parents will have a fit when they find out."

"don't say that-" he whined "they know my heart is saved for you." His hips bucked contently into her heat.

She paused, her hips slowing.

"do you mean it...?"

"yes- I'd love.. to have you-" his voice strained, knot close to breaking.

"swear it." She rocked her hips in kind careful to not scrape his soft skin against the tile.

"I swear- I owe you my heart."

"then my beloved- may this be the first night for the rest of our lives." Her teeth closed down on his neck marking him as hers.

He shook beneath her, emptying himself into her heat, a delightful sense of saeity rushed through her body. His beautiful skin potchmarked with bruises and teeth indents. His inky black hair strewn accross his face, eyes squinted in pleasure. Envers breath was soft contented, satisfied. A smile played on his soft lips.

"you are wonderful... My assassin, my...huntress.."

"oh stop-! Don't go all sappy on me." She patted his cheek "you are ridiculous"

His laugh, light and arid hung in the night air. "unfortunately - we must separate for the night. I shall send you.. something the druids have made. We had been.. less than cautious."

"I am not sure bhaal allows his son's the gift of child rearing. But if it makes you content I shall submit to your will." Her hips ached, lifting them gingerly off of him. "You are divine lordling"

"as are you my sweet."

[sorrelchestnut]

working title: jailbird cont'd

Previously on: “Hello, old friend,” said Enver Gortash hoarsely, after a moment. “Come to gloat?”

Flynn took a long time to answer him - long enough that Astarion, lurking some feet away in an awkward dance between his desire to give them privacy and his own bright-burning curiosity, went from awkwardness, to intense discomfort, and looped back around to amusement.  He certainly wouldn't want to be on the other end of that eerie white-flame gaze, but if the former archduke found the experience discomfiting, he was hiding it well.  He only studied Flynn in return with surprising equanimity, as if he were still standing triumphant in his coronation hall instead of chained to a rock in a pestilent prison cell.

"I'm not much of one for gloating, actually," Flynn said eventually, as if nearly three full minutes hadn't passed between question and answer.  "Was I before?"

"Not particularly," Gortash assured him, with no trace of smugness for his victorious staring contest.  "But you are, after all, a changed man.  I'd hate to make assumptions."

Flynn's lips drew back slightly, baring the tips of his fangs.  To an unobservant eye, it might have passed for a smile.  "Quick enough to make assumptions the first time."

"And look how well that turned out for me."  The twist of Gortash's manacled hand indicating his surroundings was lightly sardonic; his voice, even more so.  "I do try not to make the same mistake twice."

"It could have been worse," Flynn offered, leaning against the wall.  Astarion despaired of the streaks of filth that immediately transferred themselves to once-shining plate.  "You could be dead."

"Near enough, my friend," Gortash said, and his gaze didn't stray beyond Flynn to where Astarion was doing his best to pretend he wasn't listening, but Astarion could feel the brief shift of his attention, anyway.  "So what does bring you to my humble abode, if I might venture to ask?  I am, as you can see, quite at your leisure."

It would be a bad idea to laugh at that, not least because he was so clearly angling for one.  Astarion almost did it anyway.

Flynn didn't seem likewise inclined; his momentary good humor had fled at Gortash's question, leaving only the edging tension that had been riding him all day.  "The Lost City of Or'dol," he said flatly.  "You know it?"

"Ye-es?"  Clearly this particular conversational feint came as a surprise: Gortash drew the syllable out expectantly, brow creased in puzzlement.  "I've had that dubious pleasure.  Or more accurately I should say we, as we went there together."

"I don't remember."

"Believe me, I am exquisitely aware."  Gortash frowned up at him; for a moment it was as if he forgot his chains, his bars, his situation entirely, so lost was he in whatever curious clockwork workings passed for his mind.  "What interest could you possibly have in that moldering ruin?  We already retrieved the only treasure of note, I can assure you.  And if you fancy a stroll down memory lane, I have much more stimulating ventures to recount."

"Do you know how to get there or not."

"I do, though I confess you were ever the more skilled navigator between us.  But no, this isn't your interest, is it?  My poor human eyes aren't so frail as to miss your new decoration."

Flynn's gauntleted hand came up to cover the sigil emblazoned on his chest, reflexively protective. "That's none of your business."

"Of course not, dear boy, but that's never stopped me before," Gortash said, almost absently.  His dark eyes seemed nearly alight with something like avarice.  "How does your lord father feel about your new allegiance, I wonder?  Thrown over for the god he deposed, now that's got to sting."

"No less than a tyrant's fall."  Flynn's hoarse voice, never particularly mellifluous, went flat as a still lake.  "Perhaps if either of our former masters ever reckoned with the fact that their apotheosis was nothing more than an accident of a god's boredom, they might stop making quite so many arrogant mistakes."

"An interesting heresy," Gortash said lightly, but Astarion could hear a hint of strain in his beautiful voice.  "I shall have to ponder it further, as with all your trenchant wisdom.  But we were speaking of a favor, were we not?  Information you no longer have, in exchange for…"

A muscle flexed in Flynn's jaw, a brief ripple of spines.  "I didn't come here to negotiate."

"No?  Then more fool you, because I don't make a habit of giving anything for free."

"You seemed eager enough to share in your power before."

"I spoke of an alliance, dear fellow, which is another matter entirely.  And one you somewhat unambiguously rejected, I feel obliged to note, so we are left with lesser bargains.  In which vein I must therefore ask: what, precisely, are you prepared to offer?"

And Flynn… hesitated, for the first time since he'd walked into this building, and in his hesitation he looked to Astarion.  For what, Astarion wasn't entirely sure: he'd thought he'd gotten so good at reading the thoughts that crossed that scaled and sinuous face, until they'd lost their tadpoles and he'd had to start all over again.  But there was something he needed now, Astarion could tell that much.  Support, maybe.  Validation.

Permission.

"Well don't look at me, darling," Astarion said, in the most limpid, nasally drawl he could muster.  "My function here is purely decorative.  But please do try and wrap this up before I get bored."

Dragonborn didn't smile as most mammalian sentients did; some crucial facial muscle lacking in the reptilian array, perhaps.  Flynn's quiet joy showed itself instead at the flex of his jaw, the angle of his head, the crinkle of scales at the corners of his eyes.  He nodded, and turned back to the chained tyrant, and said, "What do you want?"

[amorficzna]

to love, to live

Rating: Teen (Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Falling In Love, Love Confessions, Implied Sexual Content, Canonical Character Death, Developing Relationship, POV Karlach, Karlach Lives)

Relationship: Karlach/Wyll

Length: ~2.4k words (completed)

Red suited her, but gods did she fucking love red right back.

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Read on ao3 or below the cut

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Red suited her. She suited red. His blood cracked and spittled on her skin, dried with her weaponized body. It sank into the cracks of her pores till red was her and she was it. Couldn't even see the gore against the red of her skin. 

Something clattered distantly. Her axe, oh. Then her body followed, knees feeling like they’d break against the cold stone of Wyrm’s Rock. 

Enver’s dead, vacant face stared back at her. 

…

Forked tongue. Forked tongue. Forked tongue. FORKED TONGUE.

Well, she had a forked tongue too. But Wyll’s forked tongue?

Fire crackled and spit against her skin. Wyll turned his head, heavily, his neck creaking and his hand coming up to rub at the sore spot. Still not used to the horns.

“Sorry! Sorry, I -”

Karlach huffed. Wyll’s eyes didn't stray from her. 

“Nothing to apologize for.”

“It's just - you said that on purpose, right?”

“You might have to be more specific than that.”

The man’s voice was like honey. And he could kill her. Had tried to kill her. But didn't. But he could, and had chased her across the burning rivers of the Hells just to try. 

She was burning up hot and fast. 

“At the party. When I came over to ya. And you - well we talked about a lot of things. But the forked tongue thing. You said it on purpose… right?”

He smirked. Gods she was in trouble. 

“Even though my tongue may be forked I am still measured with it.”

“You must know how that sounds.”

He raised a brow, smirk still there.

“Of course I do.”

She was blushing, and it must've shown if only because she felt the hot sickly burn of it all across her face. She covered her face with her hands. 

“You're fucking killing me, Wyll.”

His eyes were sad when she peeked through her fingers, and she felt herself deflate. 

“Sorry, fuck, sorry -”

“Never apologize, Karlach. You make me feel - so alive.”

…

“Karlach -”

His hand was on her shoulder but she couldn't feel it, not really, not with the blood and the armor and the flames always the flames licking meekly at her skin.

“I'm so tired,” tears crawled down her face until they popped into little clouds of steam.

“I know, love, I know.” 

Enver fucking Gortash was dead and she was alive. So why did it hurt so much? 

…

There were callouses all across his fingers, especially along his thumb, dancing with the swirls of his fingerprints. She wanted to memorize each notch and crevice of his hands, those divine things, as he guided her through a soft dance made for a fucking princess. 

“Gods. I never thought hands would be better than sex, but here we fucking are.” 

A soft, surprised laugh escaped his lips. Eyes looked away. Blush crept along his neck. 

Delicious, surprising tingles ran up her spine that she, of all people, could pull a blush out of the Blade of Frontiers. Handsome and woosome and soft and - and loving. 

She wanted to devour him. 

At that he coughed. Oh, she said it out loud. His hand was gone long before she was able to etch its feel on her skin and mind. 

She pulled away from him, wincing, eyes closed from the disgust there, no doubt. Her body was nothing but fire and brimstone, a walking weapon and no more or less. Stupid mouth. Stupid hot ache low in her gut that flared any time he looked at her. Stupid Karlach. 

“Ah -”

His hands - even with her eyes closed she knew they were his - wrapped around the nape of her neck, thumbs brushing at her jaw. He was on his tiptoes, and she lowered down on her knees to meet him. 

“You are a force to be reckoned with. You drive me mad with my desire for you.”

Before she could reply with her numb tongue along the lines of ‘damn’ or ‘oh’ or ‘right back at chya’ his mouth was on hers; soft at first, like he always was, but he was quick to nip at her lips, quick to take her eager gasp and turn it deeper until he was towering over her, devouring her, her chin tipped up towards the sky. Imaginary stars appeared in the dark of her eyelids. 

She was small, safe, in the warmth of his hands and his mouth. Damned tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, steam prickling her cheeks. He pulled back, mouth trailing over hers, just enough to check on her, to wipe the dew from her face, to kiss it away. 

Damn. This was what it must have felt like to be loved.

…

Enver fucking Gortash was dead, but he wasn't sorry. Would never be sorry, now. Because he was dead and she was alive, alive with the weapon for a heart that would kill her.

She cracked her knuckles against the ground in a hard fist, felt the bones crack like dust, distant screams spilling upwards from deep in her gut, spewing magma against the cold dead body and the cold stone ground. 

…

He splayed his hand out against hers, locking them together, inviting her other hand across the rippling of his stomach, then flirting it lower still. 

“Are ya sure, Wyll?” 

She didn’t want to push him. She wanted to go at his pace. Knew he wanted to do things right, do things slowly, even if she knew she might not make it to ‘right’ or ‘slow’. He moved her hand lower in response, letting him take the lead, then feeling the bulge straining against his pants. 

He was warm, a velvet heat that no fire in all the Hells could match. It burned her, and she ached for him. 

“Of course I’m sure. Because it’s you, Karlach. Let me please you. Let me love you.” 

“You - you’re pleasing me more than enough already. Just being with you. Gods, I’m just so fucking happy to be near you.” 

She rubbed her thighs together, trying to ease some of the pleasurable ache building in her. His hand was at her hip, then at her waistband, working the ties of it open. 

“I love you.”

Fireworks exploded behind her eyelids, the ones she used to love to watch in Baldur’s Gate only a fraction compared to this. The delicate balance they were playing with snapped, her hands pulling at his horns, his moans swallowed by her mouth. 

“Gods, do I love you, Wyll.” 

“Then come here, and be mine.” 

And she did. 

…

The words scratched out of her throat, like they didn’t want to be said, which was probably true, “Think of all the good you could do, Wyll. You should do it.” 

She could still feel Enver’s blood on her hands, under her nails. Wyll’s brow furrowed. She picked at the blood that still felt stuck there, under her nails, even though they were already brushed raw. Anything to not look at him. 

“...Then I am the Blade of Frontiers no longer. I shall be Wyll Ravengard, son of Ulder, soon to be Duke of Baldur’s Gate.” 

Even as Ulder set his gauntlets on his son’s shoulders, pride oozing out of the smile on his lips, Wyll’s eye strayed to her. 

“Hail Duke Wyll Ravengard!” 

The leaden weight of her engine was infinitely heavy in her chest. Enver fucking Gortash was dead but she still lived, and the least she could do was fight till the very end, use that little bit of courage left to leave behind a better world for little street urchins like her. 

She knew Duke Wyll Ravengard would make that happen. 

…

The acorn was miniscule in her hand and she laughed, joy and bubbling melancholy lining her throat. 

“Eternity doesn’t feel like something real for me. I’m gonna die, Wyll.” 

His hand brushed hers, closing her fingers around the acorn all the same. 

“Then let us be together, now, and for tomorrow, and every day we have left. That will be my eternity.” 

She cupped the acorn carefully in both her hands, holding it close to her heart, some of her heat licking across it without leaving a single scorch mark behind. It was pristine. It was perfect. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

So many fucking things. All jumbled in her head. But it all came back to her, didn’t it? So she pointed at herself. 

He hummed, “Yes, you’re right, that is the person I want to marry. The person with whom I want to spend the rest of our time together. Is that so hard to believe?” 

She nodded.

“Then say yes, and I’ll show you all the ways I love her,” he teased, “Well, what do you say?” 

Pesky tears made themselves known in her eyes. She didn’t wipe them away, though, too scared to drop the acorn still cradled gently in her hands. 

“Of course yes, Wyll, of course. Because it’s you. And - and I can’t imagine it with anyone else.” 

His smile was brilliant. It could probably light up the whole night sky if he wanted it to. 

“Then get down here, you.” 

She didn’t need to be told twice.

…

She could make it through the night. One last day to live. To see the sun and the moon and the red of his eye. To meld her body against his, her thumb skimming his stomach, arm draped over the curve of his waist. To take in his smell, fresh and earthy, dispelling the last of the sulfurs of the Hells that clung to her, as she brushed her nose against the nape of his neck. To curl in on him and be his, for one more night. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

He turned in her arms, his eye shining in the dim light of the moon. 

Red suited her, but gods did she fucking love red right back. 

…

Pity draped over Dammon’s face like a veil and she fucking hated it. 

“I’m sorry, Karlach…” 

She knew what was coming next. 

“I know it isn’t your first choice and I won’t pressure you, but if you go back to Avernus… Well, it’s still an option that’s on the table. One that could buy me enough time to figure out your heart.” 

The acorn was a delicate, small little thing. She hoped it would survive once she went up in a hurricane of ash and embers. Her heart left behind, draped in her guts and innards. 

In that acorn she would live on. Her heart and her city and her Wyll would live on. It didn’t fucking help, not really, but it did push her forward, courage flitting through each of her steps towards the Absolute.

…

Her engine ached. Her heart did too. 

“I think I’m getting close. You should probably stay back.” 

But he didn’t. She watched the bob of his neck as he swallowed, watched the twitch of his eye, watched the way his hands smoothed over her stomach. Begged her mind to remember these little details of him, even when she was a million pieces of ash. 

“ Please, Wyll. You’re free now. Mizora’s got her hold on you no longer. You’ve - you’ve given me more than I could have ever dreamed of while I was in Avernus. So live for me, please? Just - just remember your dear old Karlach every once in a while, alright?” 

He shook his head. His back was straight and strong now, holding the horns on his head steady. He was beautiful, always was and always would be. 

“No Karlach, I won’t leave you. While the Blade of Frontiers is no longer, neither will the Duke Wyll Ravengard be born. I shall be the Blade of Avernus. And I shall hunt down Mizora and all devils that threaten the Sword Coast. But I can only do it if you are at my side. Come to Avernus, with me , and we shall free you from Zariel’s clutches.”

Hot lead slithered out of her engine and into her feet, her knees, her chest, her arms and head. 

“I'm so tired, Wyll.”

“Then rest on my shoulder and let me carry you, love.”

She snorted, “Don’t think you can handle that.”

“‘Course I can. Because it's you. ”

She sighed, deep rotting sadness taking hold. She pushed away from him, the flames licking higher and hotter still. Arms hugged ‘round herself in some sort of mock protection against the pit in her stomach. 

“I can't fight anymore. Don't want to, at least. Definitely not in Avernus.”

“Then let me fight for you. With me you’ll be safe. I shall carry your burden on my shoulders if it means you’ll cast one more smile my way.”

“You have a city to run. The city I -” died “- fought for. My city. Our city!”

The words were true but they rang hollow in her ears all the same. 

“It will mean nothing to me without you in it to laugh and to love and to live .”

“So what? You want me to fucking suffer under Zariel’s thumb just so you can prance around the Hells playing hero? While I live every day in fucking fear of her using me again? At least this way I can choose how I go,” she whimpered at the end, because she didn’t want to die. 

She wanted her life . But not if it meant bartering with Wyll for his. She couldn’t do it, couldn’t live with herself if she did. 

Fingers wrapped around the nape of her neck. She was running hot now, and could hear his skin sizzling from it, but still he didn’t pull away. His thumbs brushed her jaw and she acquiesced, getting on her knees in front of him as his lips grazed over hers. The sun above her was eclipsed by the outline of his head and his horns. 

“If you are tired, lie on my shoulder. If you are scared, let me protect you. If you don’t want to fight, let me be your sword and your shield. I fucking love you, Karlach. I love your strength and your tenacity and your courage. I love how fucking stubborn you are, even if it means you might die. Gods are you amazing. A one-woman wonder. But you don’t have to be. Let me take care of you. Do this one thing for me. Live with me.” 

The hard shell of her heart splintered and cracked. 

“You really mean it? Really really?” 

“Of fucking course I do. Because it’s you.” 

And she believed him. And they lived. And they loved.

[little-tyrant-gortash]

Oathbreaker

Pairing: fem!Tav x Enver Gortash, fem!Tav/Astarion

Tags: Emotional Manipulation, Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, Paladin Tav (Baldur's Gate), Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Drunk Sex, Unrequited Love, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Scars, Blood and Injury, Injury, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Torture, Psychological Torture, Implied/Referenced Torture

Word count: 2,171

Ao3 here.

Chapter 1.

Chapter 2.

Chapter 3.

Chapter 4.

Chapter 5.

Chapter 6.

Chapter 7.

Chapter 8.

Chapter 9.

Chapter 10.

Chapter 11.

Chapter 12.

Chapter 13.

Chapter 14.

Chapter 15.

Chapter 16. ⬇

Chapter 17.

Chapter 16: Strike Two

Things could've been better.

Between trying to solve the murder in the Temple of Ilmater, the fights within her camp and the meetings with Gortash, she realised she had a problem, a rather huge one, at that: she didn't want most of this anymore.

There had been nights when she couldn't visit Gortash, and those nights took a toll on both of them. Tav couldn't sleep in the camp ever since Astarion left, and Gortash feared Orin would walk in his palace with Tav's head in her hand. She was staring at the ceiling of her tent all night while he was watching her through the slate as he was tinkering in his workshop; she'd always kept the Reaper's Embrace close to herself at night, at least, so he could've sent reinforcements if there was an ambush.

Worry made them desperate for each other every time they've met.

But the lack of sleep still wasn't the worst of it all for her. The worst of it was that when Wyll learned that she was way too close to Gortash to his liking, he started a verbal fight. A fight she didn't want to have.

"That man", Wyll pointed at Wyrm's Rock Fortress's general direction, "is responsible for the tadpole in my father's skull! In our skulls, too! He's responsible for making Baldur's Gate vulnerable! How could you do this to us? To all of the city?!"

Tav dropped her shoulders, defeated. She could thank her very life to the armour Gortash altered that day, as they've crossed paths with a few shape shifters, and she'd spent every waking hour wishing she needn't to be out there, seeking that damned woman, blundering in the dark for clues. She was rapidly getting fed up with everything that happened to her so far, and frankly, being an Oathbreaker and slowly making her peace with it was making it all worse.

…or better?

"I don't expect you to understand anything that goes on between me and Gortash", she said finally, her voice unusually cold. "But I assure you that my alliance with him has been nothing but a benefit to us."

"How so?" Wyll demanded, and when she didn't reply, he shook his head with a scoff. "You're not the woman I've once knew. You'd never deal with shady men like him. He reeks of darkness."

"Perhaps darkness is exactly what I need", Tav tilted her head. "Perhaps that could make me stronger."

"You don't need to be stronger, Tav, because you're strong already! You just need to listen to your friends who worry about you, who care about you, and believe me when I say:  you don't want to get mixed up with that man!"

Funny. None of them said a single fucking word when they've learned she allowed Astarion to bite her. When she allowed him to toy with her, to make her fall in love with him through manipulation. When he was actively weaponizing her desires for him and tried to manipulate her to do what he wanted her to do. When she allowed him to ascend. They hadn't said a single word when he… when he…

"I've had it worse."

"If you're hinting at As-"

Wyll cut off the moment he saw the flash in Tav's eyes. The change was instant in her demeanor. She still wasn't ready to talk about him, and everyone at camp had doubts she ever will be.

"Don't you dare to say that name out loud", she warned him, and Wyll shifted backwards, his face scrunching up with shame and hurt. "If it bothers you that I'm working with Gortash, then leave my camp. I have no use of you, anyway; all you do is complain and whine and get on my nerves."

"Tav-"

She knew Gale was behind her the moment he addressed her, but she didn't look back at him.

"So, what will it be, Blade of the Frontiers?" She crossed her arms in front of herself, staring at Wyll with a look that told him she was ready to bite at any moment. "Will you stay out of my business or will you finally relieve us of your annoying attitude?"

Wyll stared at her for a long time before he looked away. After all she'd done for him – accepting him as he was, even after becoming a devil –, he knew he wouldn't be able to leave her in fear that she might get killed. And if he left… maybe he'd never get the cure for his own tadpole. Tav was the closest to the solution, and maybe, just maybe, Gortash could help them remove it. Who knew; he already helped Karlach, no matter how strange the deed was in Wyll's eyes. He'd dealt with people like Gortash before, and he always expected the worse from his type. But, if it came to that… he'd try and keep her safe from him, before it was too late.

"I'm staying", he decided quietly.

"Good. Then shut up and leave me to my devices. I know what I'm doing."

At Wyrm's Rock Fortress, Gortash smiled down at the slate that let him see Wyll's beaten puppy expression. Whatever happened between Tav and the person everyone tried to mention to her was interesting; it made him curious, he wondered what was that story she didn't want to revisit. But to hear it with his own ears that perhaps she needed his darkness in her life… that if she had to choose between the Blade of Frontiers or him, she'd choose him…

That made his day wonderful.

Which was why he was thinking about celebrating it at the end of that tenday. That was the third tenday they've started their relationship; on that day, thirty days earlier, both of them thought that it'd be just one night. Turns out, they both wanted so much more from each other, and Gortash had to admit it to himself that he really meant it when he proposed to her.

That'd be the proposal she wouldn't be able to turn down. In time, she'd say yes, and he'd have her on his side, permanently. All else will fall into place and then, he'd rule it all with her. Easy.

She presented herself, looking utterly exhausted, that evening. Gortash carefully chose the meals for that night; he'd told his servants what to prepare, knowing exactly which foods and drinks were her favourite. Warm chicken soup, for example; not hot, but warm. Thin slices of well-done steaks, mashed potatoes, grilled vegetables, sweet wines – all in her favour, to get her well fed and comfortable.

They ate in almost complete silence. He could tell she wasn't really there, but he let it go for now, in hopes that she would ease up and focus on the present.

Little did he know what happened that day. A shape shifter infiltrated her camp in his image, and upon learning that it wasn't the Gortash she knew, she had to eleminate them. It didn't make things look nice that she had to smash that face in with the Blood of Lathander.

She shivered. She had to tell him about this and the looming threat of Astarion. He must know that those shape shifters weren't the worst that could happen to both of them.

"How was your day?" She asked softly after she looked at him before she sipped her wine.

"Oh, you know, just the usual", he leaned back with a sigh and grabbed his own goblet to drink from it. "Busy as always."

Tav stared at him for a few long seconds.

"When the light meets the dark", she murmured quietly.

Enver looked deeply in her eyes, and smiled.

"The Absolute is the ark."

That was the moment when she finally relaxed her shoulders and closed her eyes, tilting her head back against the chair's headrest with a sigh. Saying one of the catchphrases they've agreed upon let him know that she'd ran into trouble earlier that day.

"Orin?" He asked.

"No. One of her lackeys."

"Did they hurt you?"

"No. I bashed their head in."

"Good."

Tav's throat tightened. Her voice became funny when she spoke again.

"They were wearing your face when I did it."

Enver wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he stayed quiet. She still didn't look at him, just pressed her lips together in an attempt to keep herself from crying.

"Our plan has a major flaw, Enver."

"And what that might be?"

"You'll die."

So much for his plans for tonight. He could've planned and schemed to get what he wanted if Orin obliterated it without her actually lifting a gods damned finger. Gortash closed his eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"As all of us one day", he replied at last, glancing at her, realising she'd been staring at him with a look unknown to him. "You needn't worry about that right now. I am well guarded."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Tav, I have the Fist at my fingertips, along with my Steel Watchers and countless infected who will defend the one who gives them instructions." Alright, fine. If they were talking about their own vulnerabilities, he'd unveil one of his own. "If anyone is in danger, it is you."

"I have my friends who have my back", she waved him off like it was nothing.

"Is that so? Then how could that shape shifter get so close to you?" When she couldn't answer him, he tilted his head slightly. "Tav… be with me. Stay with me."

"You've given me the mission to get rid of Orin."

"Maybe I've changed my mind."

"Nobody would do a good job when it comes to her. She'd gut anyone else we'd send after her. No, I have to do it. I agree with you on that."

"Nevertheless." He ignored his racing heart. "Marry me."

Tav settled her goblet down. Maybe a bit harder than she intended. It wasn't about just Orin, but the timing wasn't right to mention and talk about Astarion either after Gortash proposed again. May the gods damn it all.

"Not yet", she snapped, annoyed, "we've just talked about how dangerous this all is."

"All the more reason, then. Perhaps it's a distraction what we need to get close to her – or to lure her closer to us."

Tav stared at him with a look that made him realise that perhaps he said the wrong words. She stood up.

"Thank you for the dinner, it was delicious", she concluded.

"Tav", he called out after her when she started to walk away. When he saw she wouldn't stop, he shot to his feet and hurried after her. "Come on", he grabbed her arm and pulled her back to himself. "Don't be like this."

"It's easy for you!" That was when he saw she was crying.

"Tav…"

"I'm just another plaything for you, isn't that right? Someone you can use until you get bored of me- you'll have countless others to entertain you anyway-"

"What the Hells are you talking about?" He grabbed her upper arms and pulled her closer to himself. "Do you think I'm trying to persuade you to live with me because I think of you as a toy? How can you think I'd ever get bored of you? Do you have any idea what the rest of the world means to me if you're with me?" She shook her head to every question and tried to pull away, sobbing, but he didn't let her leave. "The entire world can burn for all I care. I just want you."

It was true.

It hit him in that moment, so hard that it hurt. It caused him physical pain in his chest. The usual feeling of fear remained as far away as always; he couldn't get frightened from anything, not while he had his heavily enchanted attire on himself. But he couldn't keep the anxiety at bay. He couldn't keep the more subtle feelings away. She grabbed his shirt and buried her face in his chest, and he held her close to himself.

"Alright… let's stop talking about this for now", he rested his chin on top of her head, holding her close. He gently rubbed her back, his hands rubbing up and down to calm her down, to ground her. When she could get her crying under control, he placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. "There'll be a small ball for the nobles and patriarchs of Baldur's Gate tomorrow. I'd like you to be there with me."

"Can I say no?" She murmured in his chest, making him smile.

"No", he replied firmly.

Tav groaned.

"Fine."

"Spend the day with me tomorrow."

Tav wrapped her arms around him and held him close.

"Alright."

"You're not asking if you can say no?" Gortash chuckled quietly.

"If I can be with you, and you only", she murmured in his chest, "I wouldn't want to tell you no."

[sunflower-ozzy-online]

A Wyll to Live

1st chapter of

Where There's a Wyll There's a Way - Masterlist

Wyll (Baldur's Gate) /Reader - Enver Gortash/Reader (more a warning than a promise)

Additional Tags: Arranged Marriage - Angst

You're raised to marry Wyll as you're also a duke/ duchess When Wyll is essentially disowned your marriage is called off. Years later your hand is promised to Gortash in a way to legitimize his Archduke standing and to save your land from the absolute.

Baldurs Gate Act one-three spoilers (NOT KIDDING)

You always knew this was where your road was leading. From the day you could understand what responsibility was you knew your responsibility was to be married off to protect your family's status and land holdings. There weren't many families at or above the duke level in Baldur's Gate, but as long as you didn't marry too far below your status you would be assured a secure future. You had hoped you would be able to choose your future spouse, even if you were handed a limited list to choose from. Unfortunately, life had shuffled the cards life had dealt to you when you were a young adult. So now you were heading to Wrym’s Rock in a small carriage that holds all the belongings you were allowed to bring with you.

You have only met your betrothed once after your parents discussed it with him and his advisors. They had talked for hours and had struck a reasonable deal. He was grimy and pompous but reasonably attractive. The way he looked at you unsettled you, sending a warning signal to the back of your skull and down your spine. Nothing you haven't been coached to ignore in company. Of course, when you met him his arch-duke status wasn't confirmed yet. The coronation was happening soon after you arrived at the fortress.

You looked across at your guardian for this trip, their face blank as they went over whatever paper they had in their hands. It wasn't a long trip from your town To Wyrm’s Rock. You had planned to spend the trip conversing with your parents for the last time as a family unit but they decided that with the absolute forces on the loose, it was better not to risk all riding together. You saw the sense in their decision but that did not mean it didn't hurt.

The carriage jolted to a stop like it did anytime there was something in the road. As you looked out the window to check for trouble you saw the stone roads and buildings you used to associate with childhood innocence and joy. Now all you see is the way they fall apart, suspicious-looking puddles, and worried citizens. Citizens you would be complicit in neglecting, policing, and taxing now. You couldn't bring yourself to make eye contact with them, not from above them in your lavish carriage, provided for you by Gortash. It broke your heart to be reminded of the spoiled memories you had spent surrounded by them. You closed the curtain and went back to picking at the seats. The carriage started moving again as the interruption was removed from your path. You knew you would be approaching the bridge to Wyrm’s rock soon. Wanting to savor the last few moments of freedom you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to imagine an alternate life.

You were unaware the carriage had pulled to a smooth stop until the door was pulled open, the carriage filled with the smell of the ocean with a distinct undertone of piss. You gathered yourself and stepped out of the carriage. Immediately you saw a big clunking figure, taller than any being you knew of that could fit in that lanky armor. You had always felt uneasy when confronted by helmeted authority but something about them was even more off than your typical shiny-armed anonymous knight. It seemed to be staring right at you without seeing you. You could never tell exactly where they were looking but no matter where you were, if you were in their vicinity you felt their eyes on you. Your advisor addressed them and the fists for you as servants collected your things. You were not surprised Gortash was not present to greet you, he had not seemed the type to make anything in life more comfortable for others. One of the Wyrm's staff came out and brought you through the fortress. You were led to the top, you had heard rumors Gortash was living on the top floor of the fortress. It seemed that you would also be occupying this floor as your guide led you to one of the rooms.

You were to stay in this room at least until your wedding tomorrow. She told you that your luggage would be brought up after you as well as delivered the invitation to your fiance's coronation. God was it gaudy. Was gold ink really necessary for a simple invitation? The flowy script could have fooled you into thinking it was for your wedding instead. You had not seen a single wedding announcement but you had seen his face plastered all over the city announcing his coronation as arch-duke from the second you got within the vicinity of Baldur's gate. Self-absorption was not rare in your social circles by any means, you did tend to not surround yourself with them.

You had to remind yourself that that was when you had prospects and suitors. Now you have only one and his face was in the back of the piece of paper you held in your hand.

The coronation was later today and you had a few hours before your presence was required. Having planned for a face-to-face meeting with Gortash you were already made up and corseted. That meant most of the preparation work for later was taken care of. You spent the rest of your free time roaming around your room. When you dared to look outside you noticed steel watchers stationed at the end of the hall by the stairs. For your safety or to keep you on the premises you were not entirely sure. You slowly and quietly closed the heavy door and turned back to the already familiar and boring room.

The sheets were obviously picked by Gortash, paying no mind to your tastes or opinions; they were black and embroidered with fake gold thread. They looked scratchy and rough, the look of them valued over their comfort. None of your things had been moved into your room an hour later. Maybe they were being moved into your future room? To save the workers some time. Were you to wear your travel clothes to the coronation? You doubted that they would meet the status of Mr. Arch-duke but you would rather wear them than be stuffed inside whatever he would prefer.

Thirty minutes before the coronation was due to start there was a knock on your door. It opened with a loud creak and there stood a group of women and a large dress bag. They gathered around you undressing you and taking you in before putting you in the hidden dress. When you were finally finished and allowed to look at yourself you saw the absolute abomination they had tied you into. You would put money on the fact that this dress was made with the exact same fabric your bedding was made of. It was itchy and scratchy and you hated it. It was too far big and stiff to be useful in anything other than standing at someone's side as a trophy. Yet that was all you were today. Someone to stand beside a man, and make him look better. That was what your life would be reduced to. For your people, you would go through with this.

The thought of the carnage caused by the Absolute wrecking the people in your town would be the sole thing pushing you through this marriage. You had a chance to protect them, to do something for them for the betterment of their lives, and that was what you were going to do. You were going to be married off eventually. What better reason for a political marriage than to protect people? Well, besides love. That was out of the picture now though. He left and left you behind in the dust with no explanation. You had finally brushed the dirt off and you were not going to look back.

Next

Masterlist

[amaranthsynthesis]

Writing patterns, tagged by @plethomacademia AND @chronurgy, lol, tagging whoever hasn't done it and wanted to (which is no one because I am. late.) and I might fudge it with some WIPs because I don't have ten things finished yet woops

Rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 posted fics and see if there's a pattern!

you see my ghost and you'll never forget it || E The Dark Urge/Enver Gortash

The Steel Watchers move across the end of the hall, neatly separating Ballard and his companions before any of them can notice, let alone react.

2. Third Time Pays For All || E The Dark Urge/Enver Gortash

Ballard follows Gortash when he ducks out of the drawing room with a waved hand and self-effacing, breathless demur.

3. A Fine Night || E The Dark Urge/Enver Gortash

The Tilted Magpie is warm and brightly lit, cheerful yellow-gold lamps hung everywhere to ward off the blanket of night.

4. An Ill Considered Bargain || E The Dark Urge/Enver Gortash

Ballard has been complacent, quiet and observant as Gortash winds the ropes up his leg.

5. One for a Death, Two for a Pair || E The Dark Urge/ Enver Gortash

Enver Flymm sees the bird fall from the sky.

Aaaand cheating, none of the below are finished haha--these might change but in all honesty it would only be if I added something in before the first line. I self-edit so severely as I write that sentences mostly don't get put down until I'm convinced they're right, and final adjustments before posting are spelling errors/splitting paragraphs.

6. A Fine Night ch 2 WIP || E The Dark Urge/Enver Gortash

The fire radiates heat and light, casting formidable shadows that plunge the room into a heavy darkness.

7. the black hand of bane or what the fuck ever WIP || E The Dark Urge/Enver Gortash

“When you die,” Ballard asks suddenly, voice quiet still, thoughtful enough that it does not shatter the peace of the fire-warmed and paper-plastered room, “Bane will take your soul, correct?”

8. a sacrament to be taken kneeling WIP || E The Dark Urge/Enver Gortash

They are still in bed when mid morning turns to noon.

9. noises in the night WIP || E pre-relationship Astarion/The Dark Urge

The days are long and bloody--even as their little ragtag group of would-be heroes expands, so too does the danger lurking in the trees and rocks around them.

10. all the breathless dead WIP || M or E? The Dark Urge & Orin the Red

For all that the small imp had said Ballard would not be bothered by the suffocating red mist that blanketed him the moments of that slaughter, the urge niggled at the periphery of his consciousness for the next several years anyway.

I think the biggest pattern here is how you can see where I have white-knuckle pried myself away from over-complicated multi-clause opening statements (mostly, anyway)--I like my sentences long and chewy, as is. Pretty much immediately proven by the second line of most of these, which is hilarious to me. Other than that there seems to be a decent mix of action/description, though I do notice that where I open with action instead of description it's a good indicator that that piece is going to be shorter and punchier.

[rinwellisathing]

Paint The Lines, Cut The Flesh: Part 19

Sentry didn't return to Sharess' Caress, he couldn't do it. He couldn't deliver that news to the others there. When Astarion and Halsin led him out of the flophouse and into the streets of the town, he stumbled over to a stack of crates and sat down, burying his face in his hands. “I don't know what to do...I'm so angry...and everything hurts...and my head is spinning.” “Well, perhaps a good place to start would be to direct that anger. We can trail this cut rate assassin if you want, I found something at might help.” Astarion offered, producing a scrap of paper with a list of names on it. Father Lorgan's name was already crossed off as well as several others, but Sentry did recognize some of the remaining ones. He took the list from Astarion and scanned it carefully. “Figaro Facemaker was one of the people Enver got his clothes from.....and me too when I started spending more time around him. I know where his place is.” He blinked, the realization just dawning on him that some how he had managed to remember that. “Anyway, the guy's kind of an insufferable prick, but the clothes he makes are really nice. D'you think Orin's got him on a hit list because she and Enver had a disagreement? Cause these other names that seem familiar might also be related to him and if they are...” “Pardon me, Mister Ojeda?” When Sentry looked up, an elegant female tiefling stood in front of him, her deep purple skin and long black hair were perfectly complimented by the dapper and professional black and gold suit she wore as well as the fashionable gold wire framed spectacles that sat before her red eyes. “My name is Valda Everett. I don't think you remember me, but my employer remembers you very fondly.” She reached into the pocket of her suit, producing a very official looking letter which smelled beautifully of vanilla and rosewood, a scent that hit Sentry with intense familiarity.

He reached out and accepted the letter, his hands still trembling a bit. Opening it, he read the sweeping elegant text and realized it was an invitation. “This is from Lord Gortash?” “Yes, your absence has been so painful to him, Mr. Ojeda.” Valda nodded, her hands clasped behind her back as she stood with unsettlingly perfect posture. “Hmm...you know, it occurs to me...Perhaps the reunion might be best if you attended alone? There are certain memories that are not for prying ears.” Valda eyed Halsin and Astarion pointedly. “Ha! You really think he's going to fall for that?” Astarion scoffed. “Whatever Lord Gortash has to say to Sentry, I'm sure he can say it to the rest of us as well.” “Actually...maybe it's best if I do go by myself...” Sentry spoke softly. “Well, whatever it is you decide, do try and remember: A little diplomacy, a little decorum...goes a very long way in society.” Valda gave a poisonously honeyed smile before bowing graciously and taking her leave.

“You can't be serious, Sentry. Everything about this reeks of a trap!” Astarion snapped, rounding on Sentry. “I don't think Gortash will hurt me. There's just...something about all this...” Sentry explained, rising to his feet. “You two go find Jaina and the others and meet me at Wyrm's Rock...I need to do this alone...”

Astarion was about to protest, but Halsin placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. “If Sentry needs to do this on his own, we should respect that. We won't be far from him and with the others by our side, we're more than capable of coming to his rescue should he need it.” ---- Kroger frowned with concern as he and his siblings approached Kithrak Voss in the upstairs lounge of Sharess' Caress. He was badly wounded since the last time Kroger had seen him, beaten practically to a pulp and missing half an ear. It unsettled him to wonder what had done that to a seasoned hero of the Githyanki people. “Jhestil Kithrak, you should at least let me clean those wounds for you before we speak...” He winced, there was so much dried blood and already he could see the tell tale signs of infection setting in. “There is no time, I have found a means to free Prince Orpheus, but that bastard Cambion has it locked in his vault. He refused to deal with me...” Voss spat, his brow furrowed in frustration and the siblings could see the shame in his eyes. “Well, if this Cambion refuses to bargain, why not simply steal the hammer?” Octavia asked, sitting down across from Voss as Kroger began to prepare clean cloth and antiseptics from his pouch and carefully tend the old warrior's wounds. “I suppose you could...He would likely be keeping it in some fortress or palace within the hells...” Voss mused, hissing sharply as Kroger dabbed at his wounds, cleaning them fastidiously. The first cloth was red and brown with blood in no time and Kroger quickly switched to a clean one.

“His 'House of Hope'.” Lae'zel snorted. “But how will we infiltrate it?” She folded her arms across her chest and lowered her head in thought. “Maybe Sentry or Jaina would have an idea, or even Wyll...” Octavia thought outloud. “We should reconvene with them.” “The Cambion has also mentioned that he is willing to make a deal for the hammer, but he will only speak with Sentry Ojeda.” Voss frowned as Kroger had now begun casting his healing spells over the wounds and gently bandaging the areas.

“T'skva....Sentry will never accept anything Raphael offers...” Octavia frowned. “So it's settled then, we need to find a way into this House of Hope.” --- Astarion and Halsin rejoined Wyll and Jaina outside Sharess' Caress shortly. The group began walking towards the bridge to Wyrm's Rock and spoke as they went. “Where's Sentry?” Jaina asked gently, concern in her voice. “He lost another loved one.” Halsin replied. “And while he was recovering from that blow, a strange woman appeared with an invitation from this Archduke Gortash.” “And of course, our precious puppy dog paladin waltzed directly into that trap.” Astarion added with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, hiding the worry he felt. By now, the party arrived at the bridge, another Watcher blocking their path flanked by members of The Flaming Fist. A woman raised a hand to stop them. “Hold on, I can't let you through without a pass, there's a coronation on today, invite only!” “I thought this Gortash was a man of the people, but he'd bar them from witnessing his rise to power? A bit hypocritical in my view.” Wyll raised a brow.

“That's the rules, take it up with those in charge. I just enforce them.” The woman shrugged. “Elin, wait a minute!” A voice called from across the bridge and the sound of someone in heavy armor jogging towards them filled the air. The accent wasn't Baldurian, rather the man spoke similarly to Jaina. “Gauntlet Tiburon, what is it, sir?” The woman asked, turning to look at the new arrival. The tiefling stood six feet tall with close cropped sandy blonde hair and a mustache and goatee to match. He was dressed in Flaming Fist armor befitting a paladin and wore a holy symbol of Umberlee around his neck. His horns and skin were identical to Jaina's right down to the smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. “Tibs!” Jaina cried out happily. “Jaina, you're safe! Shit...you made us worry so much, I hope you brought plenty of souvenirs for Lucretzia from your journey to make up for it.” The paladin gave a relieved smile as he and Jaina met, hugging tightly as he lifted her up off her feet. The party simply watched the sibling's reunion until Tibs placed Jaina back on her feet and looked them over. He turned his attention to them. “Thank you for protecting my sister...She's not an adventurer, so when she went missing we feared the worst.” “We should thank her for protecting us.” Wyll replied. “Her magic was invaluable to our party and her quick thinking kept us out of many a conflict.” Tibs raised a brow, studying Wyll's face for a moment, looking from Wyll to Jaina and frowning a bit. “ Ah, I see...And you are?” “Wyll Ravengard. Blade of Frontiers.” Wyll saluted, raising his rapier. “Ravengard, huh? Ulder's a good man, took me under his wing when I came here to train as a kid. I knew he had a kid he didn't talk about, didn't realize why.” Tibs replied, examining Wyll's horns and eyes. “It's funny, I've never seen a Cambion that looked like you before. You're usually bigger.” “Tibs!” Jaina hissed, glaring at her brother. “Mind yourself! Wyll isn't a Cambion.”

“Well he's certainly not a tiefling.” Tibs replied. “The scent is all wrong, it's of the hells.” “I displeased my patron to protect a friend...I assure you, I'm human.” Wyll spoke up, frowning a bit.

“Ah, a warlock then...” Tibs distrustful expression soured further, his nose wrinkling. “I see why Ulder doesn't discuss you...” “That's enough, Tibs! Say one more thing out of line to Wyll, and there'll be a problem.” Jaina snapped, blue eyes glinting dangerously. “Excuse me for worrying about who might be sniffing after my sister's heart.” Tibs scoffed incredulously. “I've a right to worry after the last one!” “I assure you, if anyone had ill intentions towards your sister, she'd handle them quite capably herself.” Wyll replied. “My feelings for Jaina are honest and true. I want nothing more than for her to be happy.” He noticed Jaina's expression falter when Tiburon brought up her previous relationship. Astarion rolled his eyes, arms folded across his chest behind the two as Halsin watched with some amusement at Jaina's interactions with her brother. Tiburon frowned and inhaled deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing, but his tail still remained raised and alert. “Alright....fine, I apologize....I'm protective of my sister, she hasn't had an easy life and I'm not used to the idea of her as some big adventurer...” He explained, shaking his head. “ Anyway...you're free to cross the bridge into the fortress, I'm vouching for you. You can leave a description of any other party members accompanying you as well and Keira or I will sign off that they're good to go.” He bit his lip and paused a moment, grabbing Wyll's wrist as he walked past and speaking quietly. “If you really care about Jaina, please...watch out for her. She's more fragile than you think, alright?”

Wyll frowned in confusion, but nodded his head. “Her wellbeing is important to me, you have my word I'll keep her safe.” He responded earnestly. “Well, your family seems charming, Miss Thalassia.” Astarion gave a sarcastic laugh as he and Halsin followed Jaina into the fortress. “ His reaction is understandable, hunters of the deep can be quite territorial. Sharks may be solitary hunters, but that doesn't mean they can't be protective.” Halsin mused. “He's more of a blowfish, really.” Jaina stuck out her tongue. “Ever since we were kids he treats me like a delicate little porcelain doll. You saw how mad he was about Wyll and I can't imagine a kinder, more charming person I could have brought home.”

----

Sentry was assaulted at once by a thousand smells and sounds through the chamber the coronation was to be held in. He had taken a moment to get changed into something he liked to think Ffion would have chosen, furtively pilfering a simple black velvet doublet to throw over his white undershirt and black breeches. It was a little too large on him, but he buckled the belt the way Father Lorgan had taught him, enough to leave it a little baggy at the waist and hide the curve there, and made his way onward. The room was bright, fine rich mahogany and sturdy oak made up the furniture and supports, the stone was freshly cleaned and the floor was a shimmering marble that almost seemed gold under the dancing lights of the room, those Gondian electical ones he remembered had started coming into vogue, did he remember those because of Enver? He crossed the red carpet that had been laid out, passing many whispering patriars in clothing far finer than his own and all laden with gold and gems, made up and manicured freshly for this historic day. Standing at the end of the aisle was the man of the hour himself. His hair shone blue-black in the light an those dark emerald eyes danced eagerly over Sentry. He was dressed much as he had been back in the Illithid colony, an elaborate jacket bedecked in gold devil heads and embroidered dragons, his hands adorned in those enticing golden claws and jewels. “Ah, my favorite assassin.” He spread his arms as he took a few steps towards Sentry.

The tiefling had to force himself not to run into those arms and hold him tightly, though the impulse was certainly there. “Enver! I...mean...Lord Gortash...” That worn but still handsome face lit up a moment, making him look like a much younger man again. “You remember me?” Sentry frowned and looked away. “Not really....not entirely...but your face...I never forgot it...Nor the color of your eyes.” The tyrant seemed taken aback by this, as though he was unsure in that moment whether to be hurt or flattered. “Well, you've suffered quite a bit, dear Sentry, but now you've returned and we can continue as planned. More than that, you're safe at my side where you belong.” He placed a hand comfortingly on Sentry's shoulder, though it tightened possessively in the moments Sentry paused before his response. “Enver...I can't just stay here with you...the others need me, they need my help.” Sentry frowned. The words felt wrong, tasted wrong, like he should not have been thinking like this. Gortash gave a small laugh. “What ever do they need your help with, Sentry?” He chuckled and shook his head. “No....I need your help. You defeated Ketheric and now you carry his Netherstone, but without Orin's, we cannot bring the brain to heal. We need to work together here...” “Orin...that's my sister...” Sentry murmured. “Yes, and also your usurper.” Enver frowned. “Look, I merely tolerated her, but I liked you...hells, more than that even...But never the less, I cannot confront her directly and that's where I need your help.” Sentry frowned. He tried to think back, tried to remember, but he couldn't fully grasp the thought. “So...you want me to kill my sister...”

Enver nodded. “And you wouldn't only be helping me, you would still be helping your new friends...after all, a reliable source tells me that she may have already infiltrated your camp, one of you is not who they seem.” Sentry's eyes widened. 'His hair it hangs in ringlets, his eyes as black as coal....' no, his eyes are emerald...Why were his eyes black then? The knife, digging into his head in that shocking moment of realization. “That's how she killed me....” “What?” Enver frowned, gripping Sentry's shoulders and looking at him with concern. “I...I have to go...Now...” The bhaalspawn stammered weakly, his mouth dry, his head spinning. “Please, Sentry, I want you to see my moment of triumph, no...OUR moment of triumph first.” Enver replied, gently guiding Sentry to a comfortable red cushioned chair and helping him into it. 'He seems to be telling the truth, Sentry, he would share his power with you.' A voice in Sentry's head told him as he dimly watched the ceremony unfold. 'Didn't he imprison you? Why are you so eager for me to side with him? I mean, I know why I'm considering it, but it seems odd coming from you.' Sentry thought back, only half listening to the muffled words of the ceremony. 'I am nothing if not pragmatic, I'm sure you've realized this.' The emperor responded.

-----

A part of Sentry had yearned to stay with Enver to catch up with him and learn what he could fill in of his past. Those feelings he'd never truly stopped having had on effected him more strongly when he was face to face with the tyrant. Some part of him felt guilty for that, knowing how much he shared with Astarion and the feelings he had for Halsin as well, but he couldn't think about the reprecussions of those right now, he had to find out who Orin was impersonating or risk his own life and theirs. As he made his way back to camp, a sharp pain filled his body and he sank to his knees, trembling as his eyes closed tightly. His stomach twisted and his head swam, it was as like the weak, dizzy feeling when Astarion drained him, but without any of the pleasure. As it passed over him, he knelt there on all fours, panting and gasping, eyelids fluttering and sweat beading on his brow. What had happened? Slowly, he staggered to his feet and returned fully to camp, finding himself face to face with a tall, imposing figure in dark armor, red light gleamed from where its eyes would have been. The figure peered down at Sentry, that red gaze meeting his wide, confused eyes. “Sentry Ojeda, you have abandoned your oath in failing to stand against one who betrayed you, in failing to stand against a tyrant.” The figure addressed him, his voice stoic and hollow, but with a measure of authority. “What? Look, I don't even remember what my oath WAS at this point and on top of that, he didn't betray me, my sister did.” Sentry argued. “So this is hardly fair...and anyway, who are you to judge me?” The knight did not react to Sentry's outburst, merely responded with that same measured voice. “I was the first to break my oath. It is not I who have judged you, I have merely heard your call and responded. Your oath was broken, so I have come. There is still much you can accomplish.”

“So what, my powers won't respond to my call anymore?” Sentry scoffed. “So now I'm useless? Weak?! No...I won't go back, I will not be Vereena Mortis again, I am Sentry Ojeda and I am a paladin!” “Indeed you are, I can show you the way...I am here to guide, not to punish.” The knight extended a hand to Sentry. The young tiefling looked at him curiously, not quite trusting this being yet, the panic was still swelling in him, the thought of going back to being worthless, to being nothing more than a plaything, caged for someone elses' machinations. Being a paladin had freed him from that and he would never go back.

“I will remain in your camp and guide you through the trials of becoming an Oathbreaker, you will find your power is not diminished, Sentry Ojeda.” The knight offered as Sentry finally accepted his hand, grasping it firmly. “Alright...” Was all the tiefling managed. ----- Returning to the other around the fire, Sentry allowed himself to collapse. All the stress and struggle of the day fully hitting him. It was so, so much, more than he could ever remember handling in a single day before, truthfully he thought killing his first family and escaping the breeding cage must have been less than this. A thousand thoughts bombarded his mind and he closed his eyes tightly, trying to push them back. A memory swam into focus. Commander Ojeda standing in the kitchen of the temple wearing a simple loose linen tunic and a pair of ordinary breeches. Her warm brown skin was spotted with the white of flour and the color of her tunic was nearly indiscernable from the powder as she worked several small slices of dough into little discs. “So, the other boys are giving you trouble, child? Well, then why not help me here?” She had offered with a small knowing smile. “Whenever I am troubled, I make these. My mother taught it to me and her father taught it to her, it's a very old recipe in our family...all my children learned it when they were small, and now it's your turn.” She had handed a mixing bowl to Sentry, instructing him on how much flour, how much milk, how much salt...

Soon, Sentry had his own dough and was cutting it awkwardly into small portions just like Commander Mum. Flattening them awkwardly with his fist, he passed them to her and she dropped them in the sizzling pan of oil over the fire. Finally, when they had finished, a warm plate of golden fried bits of bread sat in front of them and Commander Mum laid out a jar of honey and a pat of butter on the table beside. “Now go tell Donnick and and Father Lorgan we've got a midnight snack, yes?” She had given Sentry a gentle shove towards the door. Back in the present, Sentry made his way over to where Gale knelt preparing to cook and wordlessly took a few ingredients and a large pan. He made his way back towards his own tent as the wizard gave a slightly indignant look before shaking his head and returning to his own preparations. Sentry fished a small bowl from his belongings and began to mix and knead the ingredients, producing a large bit of dough, which he began dividing into smaller portions with a dagger. He brought his pan to the fire and put some oil in and while Gale was still chopping meat and vegetables, Sentry began to fry the little bits of dough, still not speaking to anyone, but slowly, a smile began to return to his face and a sense of calm returned to his heart. “Does anyone have some honey, or maybe butter?” Sentry asked softly as he finally looked up. Halsin emerged from his tent and gently placed a jar of honey beside Sentry, sitting beside him. As the rest of the meal was prepared, the party snacked on fry bread and honey while discussing foods they remembered from their own childhoods, laughing the whole time. “Okay, promise not to laugh, but when Tibs and I were little, we would sometimes just grab fish right out of the water and our father would open them up with his knife and some of them, we could just eat the meat raw. It was the most refreshing thing in the world.” Jaina giggled. “Tuna was my absolute favorite, but when we were able to find them, salmon were delicious as well...Oh! And then my father would grill eel in sweet sauce and spices...we ate it on a skewer with fruit.”

“Much of our food was simply meant to keep our energy up, but at the creche when things were calm, sometimes the adults would make these pastries with ground nuts and sugar and sometimes fruit paste.” Kroger recalled with a fond smile, licking his lips. “And then the fried, spiced meats when a raid was successful.” Octavia added, beaming brightly at the memory. “My mother used to make these cinnamon cookies...” Gale recalled as he served the rest of the meal. “She'd always scold me for eating too many when she'd finish baking, but they were best hot out of the oven and with a good book and a glass of milk...well, it made for a fine evening.” “My father would have a special cake made for my birthday,” Wyll began, laying back with his hands behind his head and looking up at the stars. “It was a delicate cake with berries baked into it and the frosting was sweet and delicate. He had these figurines that only came out to go atop that specific cake as well, a knight and a dragon. I always looked forward to it.” “My mum's mashed potatoes and roast chicken. It's gotta be that.” Karlach grinned. “We always got together for family dinner at night even when times were tough, but when we could afford it, roast chicken and mashed potatoes was the best feast I ever ate.” “I'm glad I remembered this....I think sharing this food with you all...it's something I needed...thank you.” Sentry gave a small smile.

----- As the others went to bed that evening, Sentry and Halsin sat together by the water, Sentry leaning against the larger man. “I've got to confess, I mostly made that food for you...you told me you loved honey, that you had a sweet tooth.” He admitted. “And to be honest, my first thought wasn't to laugh and think of you as a bear, but actually to think of what I know that goes well with honey, for a present, you know?”

“A very thoughtful gesture indeed.” The druid smiled, his arm slipping around Sentry's waist. The tiefling cuddled into the touch and looked up into Halsin's eyes. They were so green in the darkness of the night, not quite that usual lovely hazel shade. He leaned up a bit hopefully. Halsin leaned down and pressed his lips to Sentry's, pulling him closer against his chest. Sentry almost let his eyes drift close in the kiss until a warning panic coursed through his brain. Something was wrong. He squirmed and struggled, shoving the druid off of him and staggering backwards, panting with fright as Halsin rose to his feet, an uncharacteristic smirk crossing his handsome face, revealing sharp teeth. He jerked his neck from side to side with an audible crack and there stood Orin, smirking cruelly at Sentry. “Oh, it's learning....didn't fall for the same trick-trap twice....Good....” She sneered. “But I do have the druid captive...” “If you lay a hand on him, I'll tear your guts out and feed them to you!” Sentry snarled, hands clenching, nails digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood. “I will not cut. His kind die all too easily...”Orin mused, sauntering towards her brother and practically dancing around him with anticipation. “No, what I ask of you, slaughter-kin, is to bring me the tyrant's Netherstone...” She shifted again and now Gortash paced around Sentry. He felt his stomach lurch with a sick sense of deja vu. “The little lordling has been whispering in your ear for far too long, how desire to split that poxy smile of his...” The mask that was Gortash's face frowned and gave Sentry an intensely serious look. “Bring me his netherstone and we will fight to the death, just you and me, for father's favor...” And in a moment, she had disappeared, leaving Sentry shaking his head in disbelief as the fear and realization began to set in. She had Halsin, and she was going to kill him if Sentry didn't do as she said. But he couldn't betray Gortash, not when there was still so much he didn't know about who he was and what they had been together. He sank to his knees, slamming a fist into the ground.

Jaina, Wyll, and Karlach were the first to arrive on the scene, Astarion and Lae'zel not far behind, with Kroger, Octavia, Gale, and Shadowheart bringing up the rear. “Are you alright, soldier? We heard shouting.” Karlach knelt beside Sentry, gingerly helping him to his feet. “She took Halsin...Orin took Halsin...”Sentry shook his head. “It's all my fault...We have to save him...” “We'll find him, Sentry. Don't worry...The trail of these killings leads back to Orin, I'm sure of it.” Wyll assured him, patting Sentry's back softly as he and Karlach gently guided Sentry back to his tent. Jaina paused a moment at the edge of the water, kneeling down in front of it. She reached into the neck of her robes and let her fingers dance over the single pearl on a gold chain that enveloped her throat. Her other hand gently glided over the water in front of her and she reached out to the deep dark of the ocean. She was a sleek, black eel twisting and writhing through sludge caked pipes and filthy water beneath the city, above her was a crumbling ruin and around her the water mixed with blood and offal trickling in from a massive structure. The earth rumbled around the water she glided through and strange rats scattered from the shores. Somewhere far beneath the city was orin's lair, she only hoped Sentry could make sense of what she had seen.