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the-astral-sea · 18 days ago

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Confessions

Hello! This is my first Gale fic, I haven’t written anything in a long time so it may be a little rusty but I hope you enjoy!

Gale x (resist) The Dark Urge. Fem reader. Angsty vibes that turn into cute vibes. This is set after you try to savage Gale in the night.

You awoke from your trance-like sleep, head pounding and wrists burning from the thick rope that was used to restrict you. Memories of the night pierce into your skull, causing your heart to drop and stomach to churn. “I’m so sorry” you whisper, refusing to look up at Gale, who was standing tall in front of you.

“Welcome back to the land of the lucid. Where explanations are owed, if you don’t mind” he sighs, and through your peripheral you can see he is holding a knife. You lift your chin up, eyes still half lidded and refusing to meet his gaze, expecting him to slit your throat there and then. There would be no objection on your part. This urge was too much, it haunted your every step, your every breath, every thought was tainted by the possibility of this thing, this creature, lashing out and taking what little you held dear straight to the Hells. You closed your eyes fully now, but the icy metal never touched your skin - only the restraints still scratching against your wrists.

“I hinted at these the urges before and you acted like it wasn’t a big deal. There’s something inside of me that screams bloody murder, Gale. I’m terrified of losing control, I almost lost myself completely tonight” your voice is quiet and composed, but your inside feel like they’re on fire, you’re struggling to choke down the acidic bile threatening to force it’s way out of your stomach and onto the floor. You don’t even wait for him to respond, you just walk away in shame, throwing your bonds into the crackling fire. A mixture of embarrassment, horror and guilt weighing heavily on you. He sighs loudly behind you but you do not turn around, you just continue your short journey back to your tent for some sleep.

Morning came around as it always does, though it was hard to tell exactly when morning was in the shadow cursed lands. “Is she still asleep?” Karlach enquired, her voice waking you from outside of your tent, “It would appear so. She’s probably too ashamed to face us right now, but give it time” Shadowheart replied, her voice kind and understanding - as it often was since the two of you had gotten closer. “I get she’s working through some mega dark shit, man. But I need her out there with us today, she’s bigger than whatever this… thing… is, I can’t have my favourite witch giving up now”. The response brought a flicker of a smile to your face, though it didn’t last long as you recalled the events of last night and the regretful way in which you’d handled things after. Still, Karlach was right. The least you could do was join them on their perils today to try and redeem yourself. Groggily and wearily, you opened up the tent, stepping outside with shaking legs and a rare lack of grace.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite little killer! I’ve seen you take down all sorts of things, what a shame you couldn’t finish the job with Gale” Astarion laughed, causing Gale to shove him in what you assumed was a half-playful, half-serious reaction. “I’d rather not talk about this right now. All I can say is that I’m sorry, I would never, ever, harm any of you out of my own free will”. Gale rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath at this statement, his gaze not once meeting yours as he prepared breakfast. You didn’t expect to get a plate, but even in his anger Gale was never anything but Gale: kind and generous, even when it was understandable to be the complete opposite. He handed you a portion of bread and cheese, his eyes darting around to look at anything but you. “Thankyou. And once again, I’m so sorry, Gale”. He cringed at the words, looking as if you’d just kicked him in the chest with your apology, still refusing to see you. All you could do was eat in silence whilst keeping a respectful distance before getting changed, grabbing your staff and preparing to head out into the world with Karlach, Gale and Astarion by your side.

The first half of the morning was spent searching for information about Ketheric, fighting off the odd shadow or three. Admittedly you were off your game, your spells only hitting their targets half of the time. You were usually prideful in your accuracy and skill. “Come on Solider! That ugly bastard nearly got me good there” Karlach shouted, finishing off a shadow wraith after your fireball flew straight past it’s head. “Please, I was nowhere near you darling” Astarion chortled, causing you to laugh for the first time in what felt like forever. His sense of humour and utter disregard for all things serious was a welcomed energy on days like this. Gale, however, was less than amused. He marched right up to you and grabbed your wrist, “we��ll be back in a minute” he stated, dragging you away from the others before you could object and into an abandoned camp a little further up.

“What in the world is going on with you? You’re flailing around like a headless chicken out there. I understand that you’re battling head monsters, but out here we’re fighting literal monsters and frankly you need to get it together, Sorceress. I get that you don’t like me, and that your urge probably told you to get me out of the way. But you like Karlach and she almost died at the hands of your clumsiness a second ago. I can’t believe yo-“ you cut him off before he could finish his scolding, “what do you mean I don’t like you?” your voice came out louder and more pained than you’d anticipated, tears welling up in your eyes as you continued, “is that seriously what you believe?”.

“Well, yes. Of course I believe that or I wouldn’t have said it, would I? I see the difference in the way you talk to me, compared to - I don’t know - Astarion for example. You’re quieter. More reserved. It couldn’t be more obvious” his eyes finally met yours, the deep sadness within them palpable. You blink away your tears, swallowing loudly in order to contain the urge to cry. You’d been on the road with Gale for a while now and in that time you’d fallen deeply in love with his charm, skill, wit and appearance. One look from him was enough to turn you into a blushing, babbling school girl. He had completely misread your actions. You treated him differently because you actually cared about what he thought of you, and it was frightening. You were more ‘quiet and reserved’ because he made your brain transform to mush. Half of the time when he spoke, you couldn’t even focus on his words, just the way his hair always seemed to remain perfectly soft despite the sweat and dirt from being on the road. The way his eyes sparkled when he got excited. The way his lips turned to smile when he greeted you, and how they always looked so inviting.

“Gale… I tried to kill you because I care about you more than I care about anyone else here. More than I care about anyone else in general, actually. The dark urge came to me in the night, talking about how I was going soft, mocking me for resisting my nature for too long. It wants to cause me pain, and what better way to achieve that than by forcing me to hurt you?” Your words came out stuttered and choked, the confession making you want to sink into the floor, anticipating a rejection that would hurt entirely too much.

The rejection never came.

Instead, his gaze softened, as if he finally understood why you spoke to him the most often but always said the least. His lips curved into that familiar coy smile that you loved so much. “I’m flattered?” His voice was laced with relief, but uncertainty lingered in his gaze. “You should be. I don’t think I’ve ever let myself be this vulnerable, certainly not as far as I can remember, at least” he pursed his lips together, as if trying not to beam at your words or let himself show too much emotion. You couldn’t really tell. “I’d understand if you were scared of me, I fear I have done things most mortals would only have nightmares about”. The words fell from your lips solemnly; admitting your nature was no easy feat, especially when you’d done everything in your power to go against it for so many weeks. In a way it felt like a soul crushing weight had been lifted, to finally speak your true thoughts and emotions. But it was tough. You try to read him, his body tense and his eyes wide, but there was a cautious smile on his face.

After what felt like an eternity, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in for a kiss. The kiss had taken you by surprise and you accidentally bit his lip, then stood on his foot, as you pulled away apologising. Your mind had been destroyed not too long ago, so this was basically your second ‘first kiss’. You’d most definitely had lovers in the past but you couldn’t remember their faces, couldn’t remember their names or recall a single detail about any moment you may have shared with anyone before. There was no wonder you reacted so poorly to this sudden display of affection - but it was not unwelcome. “Well, it’s not the first time you’ve tried to bite me” he chuckled, moving his hand to brush through his hair as he looked at the floor, clearly uncertain on if he’d just made things awkward and completely blown his chance. He was only laughing about it to try and ease the tension. Refusing the let the moment pass, you pulled him into another kiss, this time deep and slow as he moaned into your mouth upon contact. As if by instinct, he placed his hands firmly on your hips, his fingers digging into you as your own ran through his hair. It felt so natural, like you’d known each other in every lifetime. Your mouths moved in perfect synchronicity, drinking one another in. The taste of wine still lingered on his lips from the swig he took at breakfast.

Once the kiss finally broke, his entire aura had shifted. There was no sign of discomfort, no sign of uncertainty, he actually seemed to stand taller, more confident, more self assured. He kissed your forehead sweetly: an action that made you weak in the knees. A walking bomb and a blood thirsty fool was an unlikely pairing, a dangerous one, even. Yet you never felt so at peace, so sure that you were on the right path to redemption with him by your side. “Thank you for hearing me out. I promise I will not let you down” you spoke every word with purpose, fully intent on keeping your promise. Instead of responding with words, he simply moved in for another kiss. This time it was hungry, it felt like weeks of pent up emotions pouring out of him, out of both of you. He picked you up and sat you down on a half collapsed wall, deepening the kiss eagerly. Any remaining doubts and nerves that usually ate away at you slipped into oblivion. You broke apart from the kiss feeling triumphant. Worthy. Accepted. The urge had been a black cloud hovering over your head for so long, poisoning your confidence and making you feel like happiness was lightyears away from where you stood. Now it was all out in the open, and Gale seemingly accepted you, you had never been so sure of anything or anyone in your life. You were on the right path. A good path.

“Whatever burdens you, I will stop at nothing to see it vanquished” the words were like honey dripping from his tongue, his eyes dark and determined. “I have loved you since the night I told you of my condition. You never questioned it, never once faltered or made me feel less than, you just helped. I will be by your side to do the same” he never once broke eye contact, never even blinked as he made his vow. You would’ve gotten on your knees there and then had Karlach not come to check on you.

“I see you two made up” her booming voice cut through the sexual tension as she approached, “we need to head back out, there’s plenty of time to finishh…” she paused for a moment, taking in the sight with a grin, causing you to realise that Gale was still holding you close, his hands now resting happily on your butt, “finish whatever… this is… later. Fucking hell guys, it’s about time”.

It was about time indeed.

#galemance #gale x tav #gale x reader #gale x durge #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate gale #baldurs gate fanfiction #bg3 durge #bg3 #the dark urge #resist durge

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vermilionskiinmorning · 1 month ago

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Abandoned || Enver Gortash x F! Resist Urge-Durge

Quick note: I may write out the coronation scene at some point, but just wasn’t feeling it at the moment. Just know, the only major difference between canon and my headcanon is before Enver says “oh! I forgot your memories have been quite lost!” He gives durge a surprise smooch. Also after the Emperor puts in his two cents that Enver isn’t lying, durge tries to read his thoughts and gets much more than she bargained for. In other words, Enver has a sense that she distrusts him and decides to broadcast NSFW memories of their relationship into her head. Almost like he knows her and they might’ve been through this whole thing before lol It's been awhile since I've written so please be kind. I've done my best to keep Gortash in character while also showing he is soft for durge.

This story will have two endings, a Gale ending & an Enver death fix it (:

Words: 3989

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“Come to me, tonight. We have so much to discuss. None will hinder you.”

She’d just stepped out of the fortress when the words were beamed into her mind in Gortash’s voice. A send message spell clearly.

______

Feravel stood at the foot of Wyrm’s rock looking up at a balcony high above. Its doors were open and light spilled out into the night. She didn’t have to investigate to know he was up there waiting for her. For nearly half an hour, Feravel sat on her boulder contemplating everything she could remember -which was admittedly very little- and comparing it with the information Gortash had shared. The most frustrating part was that she could detect no lie. He had been so infuriatingly open about the whole thing, earnest even in his proposition for an alliance. Furthermore, she supposed the Emperor was right when he suggested she could accept the alliance and not honor it. Feravel was set on destroying the brain. In no realm of existence would she use it to subjugate and that decision was only further cemented with this revelation that the whole mess…was her own doing.

She sighed. A tear forming in her eye as she remembered Gale’s harsh words.

“So this all is your doing?! You were the chosen of Bhaal? I need to be alone. I need to think.”

Astarion had tried to rest a hand on her shoulder, but she’d shrugged it off and not gone back to the Elf Song since. Instead she’d taken to meandering through the bustling streets of the Gate trying to remember her life, but gods all she could remember was blood and that unruly black haired man which she now knew had to be Enver Gortash. Even before meeting him at the coronation, she’d felt a sense of familiarity toward him -warmth- looking at his face plastered on posters around the Gate.

She turned her mind back to Gale. Gale who was so kind and genuinely good even when she was moody or difficult. Who saw the best in her always. The one she loved, but if Gale wanted space, she needed to give it to him. She couldn’t be emotional about it and then face Gortash. The man had keen eyes, he would certainly notice, so she took a moment to school herself. There was also the disadvantage that he clearly knew her and well.

Perhaps it would be easier to deal with him alone like this, though, instead of with the pressure of an audience. There were only two ways this discussion would end after all; an alliance or his death -damn what her buried self felt about it. After a deep calming breath, Feravel looked up at the balcony again and misty stepped directly onto the rail. Hopping from the rail to the stone floor with a dull thud as her manner of announcing her presence.

“You always have liked to keep me waiting.” Said Gortash, promptly and with a distinct note of fondness.

His back was to her and he was seated at his desk, but there was a meal laid out on the nearby table.

“Help yourself. I’m sure you haven’t eaten what with wandering around the city all day. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Hesitant, Feravel stood just outside on the balcony watching him. He was at ease here not troubled at all by her unconventional manner of arrival -had expected it even. Gone was his overcoat, gilded bracers, and gloves, leaving him looking oddly exposed before a possible enemy; he was dressed in only his fine black shirt, trousers and leather boots. Was it a display of confidence? Or did he genuinely believe himself safe in her presence? Either left Feravel feeling off kilter which she supposed was his aim.

“The food isn’t poison if that’s what you’re thinking.” Enver added when he didn’t hear her enter the room.

She stepped inside, but didn’t close the door behind her as she strode over to the table. Leaving herself a quick escape should she need it. Despite the fact she was hungry, Feravel ignored it in favor of asking the obvious instead.

“You’ve been spying on me?”

Enver put down his quill and turned to face her. “Spying sounds so…invasive. I’ve simply kept tabs on your little traveling group. Ever since I saw you in the eye at the goblins camp, before you destroyed it that is, I’ve kept an ear out so to speak. Nothing so organized as spying.”

Feravel wrinkled her nose. Whatever he said, it sounded very much like spying and she didn’t much appreciate it.

“Whatever.”

She plucked an orange from the fruit bowl and rolled it between her fingers. It was firm, but not hard. Fresh, he’d brought out the good stuff in anticipation of her arrival. A brief thought of the joy she’d felt when Gale had gifted her one he managed to find during their travels. Enver knew her fondness for oranges as well it seemed. How was that supposed to make her feel? Whatever his intent, it only made her more wary of him.

She considered the orange a moment longer before deciding he must be telling the truth and pulling out a paring knife to slice the fruit. Why waste good food to poison her? He certainly didn’t seem to want her dead. Nor, had she thus far detected any hint of deception from him.

Popping a slice into her mouth, Feravel turned her attention back to him. He was watching her with just the hint of a smile. She got the feeling he was remembering something she couldn’t. It made her frown. The kiss before the coronation and that memory she’d seen in his mind… She resisted the urge to covertly cast detect thoughts on him again -after all she’d gotten much more than she bargained for before.

“So what’s the play here?” She asked finally when she couldn’t take the weight of his gaze any longer.

Amusement flared in his eyes. “Play?”

Feravel furrowed her brow. “The late night meeting-“

“It is only late by your own choice. You could have come hours ago.”

“The food. This-“ She huffed, gesturing vaguely to him causing Enver to raise one eyebrow at her. “As if you’re meeting a friend…not a potential assassin.”

He chuckled. “Are you here to kill me?”

Feravel clenched her jaw. It grated her how blatantly he was enjoying himself. The urge sang with excitement at her irritation: kill him, it will please your little friends, make them a gift of him innards. It will please father. Destroy the Banite. Flay his skin, carve the smirk from his foul lips-

She abruptly shut the thoughts down.

“I could be. You did say I was your favorite assassin.”

Enver spread his arms as if in another context he might be offering a hug. “Then by all means, my dear. I am all yours.”

A muscle in her face twitched. Did he think himself funny? How foolish was he to temp her urge like this? Tense moments passed. She wondered if from his spying he’d determined she wouldn’t just kill him outright or if he was playing with her. The notion brought forth a wave of bloodlust that she had to focus to master. Consequentially causing her to miss the knowing way Enver was appraising her.

“No?” He finally asked once he deemed the moment had passed. Getting to his feet, he strode over to her, reaching out to stroke her cheek with the back of his hand, but Feravel swiftly stepped back. Enver hummed apparently in consternation. “Well I suppose after all you’ve endured it would be difficult to expect us to pick up where we left off.”

Her mouth went dry. Even with the space she’d asserted between them, he was close. If he’d wanted to, Enver could still reach out and touch her. The thought made her heart race and heat rise up her neck. Her eyes flicked over his partially exposed chest and she inhaled sharply unwittingly taking in a fine scented perfume she recognized. Dark rosewood and vanilla bourbon, Feravel found herself breathing more slowly to savor the scent.

“I had hoped coming of your own will to be a good sign. That you remembered more than you were letting on infront of your companions.” He looked a touch disappointed. “But it does seem Orin did quite the number on you.”

She hummed condescendingly pushing away the fog his scent had momentarily clouded her mind with.

“Yes, well from where I’m standing it seems my nearest and dearest ally did nothing to prevent that. Perhaps I could be forgiven for not being quick to pick up where we supposedly left off.”

“But you’d trust a group of misfit strangers?”

“A parasite shared is a parasite halved…so I’ve heard.” Feravel said with a shrug.

“Well you should know. I did not let her kill you. We weren’t to meddle in eachother’s affairs. You were very clear on that. All I could do was warn you of her ambitions which I did -duly- to which you explicitly told me you intended to handle it. I wasn’t to know the inner workings of your father’s temple.”

The words sparked a feeling of recognition in her gut. A conversation long forgotten, now just whispers. She couldn’t prove or disprove his claim either way so she said nothing.

“You were gone. I have tolerated Orin for the sake of our plan, but I’ve always liked you.”

She sensed something off about the way he said liked. Slightly strained tone as if he’d almost used another word instead.

“Yes well, I hardly remember you and I know nothing of this plan as you’ve dictated it. Frankly I have no interest in either. Orin is Bhaal’s chosen and I am changed. I want only to be free of this threat of becoming a mindflayer and to go my own way.”

Enver pressed his lips into a thin line. She’d hit a nerve. Good, she thought.

“With things as they are, there is an imminent threat to all the infected, but furthermore the entire Sword Coast. Orin is becoming increasingly bold. As I told you earlier, she’s out for blood: yours and mine. She’d kill us both and take the stones for herself. You may have no interest in this plot, her, or the temple of Bhaal, but she will never stop hunting you until one of you is dead. That is a fact. One way or another you will have to deal with Orin. It is only a question of what you’ll do after that.”

She couldn’t help the small nod of agreement. It was in essence, the same conclusion she’d come to. With Orin after her, the issue would shortly come to a head and especially with the spy Enver previously revealed to be at her camp.

“I do intend to deal with Orin. On my own terms.” She said diplomatically .

“I’m sure you’ll make the right choice. An alliance benefits us both. You saw that before. ” He said. “In the mean time, it would be a horrible shame to let a good meal go to waste?”

Feravel expected more pressure from him to outright agree to working with him, but it seemed he felt little concern for it. As if he considered their alliance a foregone conclusion. It irritated her.

She glanced at the table. Her forgotten orange lay on a plate before her. Glancing at Enver, she sighed and went to take a seat. Plots, backstabbing, and alliances aside, she was hungry. Perhaps she could just ignore him while she ate and then disappear.

It was blessedly quiet between them for a time, but Feravel was not blind to the way Enver observed her mannerisms. He was searching for the person he knew in her. She could feel it, but not until she had just finished eating did he decided to speak.

“You are not quite so changed as you think. I very much doubt, you would have made it this far if you were nothing of what you once were.”

Enver did not meet her eyes as he said it, but he was watching her from behind his chalice of wine which he raised to his lips promptly after uttering the words. It was bait. Clearly, but she couldn’t help herself from taking it.

“And what was I before? A bloodthirsty murderer? Simply more controlled than Orin? Easier to steer? A weapon in the Black Hand of Bane?”

“Self assured, shrewd, and cunning.” Enver answered readily. His lips quirked up just slightly at her scornful words. “If a tad short fused…but passionate.”

“Such pretty flattery. One might almost think you earned that silver tongue from a devil.”

“Little surprise, as I did learn from one.” A proper smirk formed on Enver’s lips. “I do not know what you do remember, but I know that you heard my thoughts; or perhaps saw my memory rather, in the hall.”

The blood drained slightly from her face at being caught in her snooping. He’d made no indication at the time he was aware of her presence in his thoughts. Thinking on her feet, Feravel responded dismissively. “An illusion.”

Enver scoffed, his nose wrinkling in distain. “Unlike your little wizard plaything, illusions are not part of my repertoire.”

“A fantasy then.” Feravel snapped.

Enver let out a mirthless laugh. “I’ve never known you to delude yourself like this. Perhaps you are gone.”

“All I remember is death. Bloody, horrible death. This urge to perpetrate it that’s only barely within my control.” Gale’s concerned face as she came back to herself the night she’d almost killed him. Her own crushing guilt at the foul things she’d said. She could almost feel the burn of the ropes on her wrists. “A stain on my soul I will never wash away.”

Enver’s expression was unreadable and he seemed to have no inclination to speak. Pressure through silence, it seemed, but she did not give in at least not at first. As it dragged on, Feravel began to wonder if he was attempting to peer into her thoughts. She didn’t know if he knew such spells, but

“I didn’t know who you were until we reached the city… I saw the posters. Your face. It was familiar.”

She swallowed hard.

“I’d had dreams of a black haired man, but I never saw his face. I saw you and it just…fit? Like a shadow stepping into the light.”

“And these dreams were of what?” His shoulders were tense.

“What were we?”

“What were your dreams?”

They stared unflinchingly across the table at each other. Feravel wondered if it weren’t for the table between them if he’d reach for her again. Did she want him to? Uncertainty coursed through her. She gripped the edge of the table tightly.

“At first, I thought it was Gale I was dreaming of. We’d only just met, but I liked him. I quickly realized though, it couldn’t be him…”

Enver scowled at that. “Your pet wizard? Yes, I’ve heard of him, Mystra’s former chosen. He reached for something greater and failed. She was right to discard him. He’s not worthy of you.”

“It’s not your place to determine who’s worthy of me!”

“You are Bhaal’s chosen! A softhearted fool like that could never accept you.”

Feravel stood so quickly her chair was knocked to the floor.

“I am no one’s chosen and I am more than I was made to be!” She heaved a few deep breaths. Then she spoke again, far more calmly, staring intently at him. “I am my own person.”

“You were mine.”

Heatedly, Enver got to his feet, pushed back his chair and stalked toward her, but she could barely register his movements for his words held her rapt attention.

“I was yours.”

He cradled her cheek with a softness she would not have expected had she not experienced it before. Before? A forgotten memory triggered by his words began to unravel in her mind. It was incomplete and muddled, but the feelings it held were clear.

A calloused palm against her cheek. She leaned into it. Lips lightly brushed over her own, reverent. This was peace. Her place of rest. Father would allow her this man. So long as she did his will -which she would and gladly. Perhaps still one day, she may have to introduce Enver to her father. Father may even demand it of her. But not now, he was useful. So long as she could continue to make use of him toward her father’s aims, Enver was safe. Enver was hers .

It had not been long before her death. She could tell that much. And she suspected this moment to have been when her old self had realized she loved Enver.

“It was because of you.” Feravel concluded aloud.

Enver furrowed his brow. “What?”

“I wouldn’t have sacrificed you to Bhaal, had he asked it of me.” Feravel simply. “I doubt he planned to, but it seems knowing that I was unwilling to do so was enough.”

She let out a breathy laugh.

Then Enver was kissing her like a man dying of thirst and she was a spring in a desert. She was carried away by the intensity and familiarity of it so easily. Her fingers brushed tentatively along his jaw as she raised a hand to thread her fingers in his hair. It was just as fine and soft as in her dreams -except this was real. Enver was not a faceless shadow.

He let out a breath he must’ve been holding and drew her more firmly to him wrapping her tightly in his embrace. The way their lips moved and felt together was as natural as breathing. Her body yearned to surrender to him. There was no denying, Enver was telling the truth. This could not be manufactured, imitated or faked. The feelings his embrace elicited within her were not unlike how she felt for Gale. That worried her.

How easy would it be to stay here? Enver seemed to hold the key to so many of her lost memories. Just days ago she had been desperate still to know some semblance of who she was. Now, it was difficult to sort through what she wanted.

What a difference a day can make.

She was starting to feel choked up like she couldn’t breathe and her fingers slipped from Enver’s hair, running down his neck, over his shoulders to rest on his chest. Suddenly Feravel pulled back, but Enver didn’t allow her to go far -tightening his grip on her waist. Enver leaned his head against her’s as they caught their breath.

It took him a moment to realize there were tears running down her cheeks. So strange, he once thought he may never see her cry. Cautiously he wiped one away.

“Fera?” He said barely above a whisper.

With effort, she swallowed any further tears and looked up into his dark brown eyes which were so unlike Gale’s honey brown.

“I should thank you, I suppose.”

Enver furrowed his brow.

“Whatever we had, ultimately made me my own person. It was enough for Bhaal to abandon me.”

She wasn’t free by any means, but perhaps she could be. Killing Orin might be the key to free herself of father and the urge. Whether that meant her death or a life without the evil hiss in her ear, the devil on her shoulder, she didn’t know.

Enver leaned in again and brushed his lips against hers. It was just the faintest touch, but warmth spread through her from it. She could sense he was being cautious and deliberate now.

“I never told you.” He murmured lowly against her lips. Feravel kept still with anticipation. Her eyes closed, breathing steady, committing this moment to her memory. “There wasn’t a right moment, you understand? But I have to now.”

Love. He didn’t have to say it. Despite the broken thing she now was, he still loved her. Whatever he’d been searching for in his observations he’d examined her and had not found her wanting. To him, she was still somehow the same. An overwhelming prospect.

Feravel felt her heart in her throat. Just that morning, Gale had turned to her at the breakfast table and told her he loved her -just because as he often did. Then Astarion had to ruin the moment with an eye roll and a comment about toothaches which earned him a slug in the shoulder from Karlach. There was no one here to interrupt with banter, to ruin this moment though, only them.

She opened her eyes to find his face mere centimeters away.

“I…I can’t.”

Feravel tried to extricate herself from him, but he held her in place. His grip firm, but gentle he stroked her cheek with his thumb, staring deeply into her eyes. For a second, she almost wanted to lean back in, to erase her words.

“Why did you come?”

She furrowed her brow at him. What sort of question was that? He’d summoned her. But he didn’t give her time to answer before continuing.

“You should’ve known I wouldn’t have pursued or forced you here. Our matters are better left private. Causing a scene by dragging you before me would’ve brought scrutiny.“

“How pragmatic.” She said shortly.

He waved the comment away. “I would’ve been upset to be sure, but as I said before somethings are best handled discreetly. So why did you come?”

Silence hung thick between them. Feravel unwilling to utter a response and Enver unwilling to allow the question to pass. Their stalemate went on until Enver tired of her obstinance.

“You wandered the city all day instead of returning to your companions. Then you came to me. Could it be then that you feared their judgement? Or the judgement of one in particular.”

“What do you want from me?” She snapped.

“Are you so blind?” He released her, but didn’t withdraw. There was a tone of weariness in his voice. His guard was coming back up. “I do not take to heart this distraction you’ve taken in the wizard, but now you’re returned to me. You do not need to be burdened by the opinions of sheep.” He paused, then in a more business like tone. “I will provide for you anything you require to retake the cult of Bhaal or destroy it -whichever you choose.”

Feravel stared at him. Men of exceptional ambition. Was this her type? Two different lives she’d lived and yet. Despite their vast differences, she’d fallen for men who were not so terribly unalike as they first appeared.

“I-I have to go.”

Without giving him a chance to pull her back, Feravel nimbly twisted away, misty stepped to the rail and jumped -opening a dimension door below her as she fell. She didn’t see Enver race for the balcony to peer over the edge and only just catch a glimpse of her portal before it popped out of existence.

Frustration boiled in him at her disappearance, leaving him feeling exposed in a way he would never usually allow. He slammed his fist on the table to release some of the pent up emotion. She would be back he told himself. After disposing of Orin, she would return to him one way or another.

However, he’d known this was a possibility. He’d gambled with how much she could remember -allowing his emotions to take too much of the lead. It had been unlikely for her to agree to anything right away. She’d always had a will of her own and did still. Besides, he mused, it would’ve been unpalatably weak had she just crumpled, immediately abandoning her newfound compatriots. The lord Bane would not have been pleased with such an ally or companion for his chosen.

#enver gortash #durgetash #bg3 fic #durgetash fic #resist durge #durge oc #half elf durge #female durge #bg3 #baulders gate 3

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