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thechaoticdruid · 6 months

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[The Spawn Vs The Ascendant]

Astarion(s) x Tav

Plot: I made a post a while back about Ascended Astarion meeting Spawn Astarion via multiversal timeline shenanigans and legit maybe one person shared a fic with a similar premise.

So basically I was like *puts on infinity gauntlet* “Fine, I'll do it myself.”

Content Warning// 18+ for Sexual humor and suggestive themes. I legit have not been in the fanfiction business in years so go easy on me.

Characters might be ooc. Spelling/Grammar mistakes may be present. A wee bit of blood and violence. Gale is made fun of. Tav is based heavily off my human druid Tav, Winnie and uses She/Her pronouns.//

Possible Triggers: Ascended Astarion, kidnapping, mentioned character death, possessiveness, obsession, AA touches Tav without her consent (not sexually tho), Galeshaming.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Ah, the Elfsong. There was really no better place to unwind after a long day of adventuring. And there was really nothing better to help one unwind than a favorite snack, a cold drink and lovely company. Unfortunately for Tav she'd have to wait up on the company as her beloved was currently preoccupied with his nightly grooming. Gods only know how long that man will take doing his hair. The human female rolled her eyes and brought her wine bottle to her lips taking a few swigs before biting into some cheese she'd been nibbling on prior. Tav lounged about on their shared bed wearing nothing but a black tank and red boxers. Despite the peace and relaxation she was getting pretty bored without her love to snuggle and gossip with. Tav finished off the last few bites of cheese before she pulled out the private journal she'd been keeping since this whole adventure began. Little doodles of her partner decorated the pages along with her chicken scratch handwriting.

She had documented details of their adventure whenever she had the chance and also took the time to add various doodles of her companions and any monsters they encountered. (Some of her favorite drawings included herself opening a bottle and releasing a spectator. And of course a lovely little drawing of her and Astarion kicking the shit out of Cazador.)

As she waited Tav began to entertain herself by writing down a to-do list.

“Ah lets see…Yep definitely gonna have to have a chat with that pompous prick who was threatening a kid the other day. Maybe I can invite him back to the tavern later? I'm sure Star wouldn't mind having a snack.” Tav hummed, scribbling down everything she had planned out as of late.

Shit I need to do:

‘Feed rich tit to boyfriend.’

‘Teach Shadowheart to swim.’

‘Buy Clive a best friend.’

‘Murder baddies.’

‘Wildshape into a pigeon and shit on Gortash's head.’

‘Buy boyfriend cute clothes.’

‘Take Gale shopping for wizardy stuff.’

‘Look into real estate in the Underdark.’

‘Take Scratch for a walk.’

‘Kill more bad people.’

‘Contemplate licking dead spider.’

‘Be screamed at by Gale for licking dead spider.’

‘Buy flowers for Karlach and Shadowheart.’

‘Buy boyfriend more cute clothes.’

‘Study wizard stuff.’

‘Help Moon Lesbians plan wedding.’

‘Research ring of the sunwalker.’

‘Piss off the Gods……Again…’

‘Remember to take Astarion on romantic beach date before fighting the Elder Brain.’

‘Unalive people of not goodness.’

‘Shave Gale’s beard while he sleeps.’

‘Continue writing smutty novel series so I can keep buying boyfriend cute clothes.’

“Tav, a word please.” Gale appeared from around the corner. Tav groaned, annoyed by the prospect of having to get up. Especially since Gale looked like he was going to scold her for something. Begrudgingly she hopped off the bed, leaving the comfort of her room to see what in the hells that damn wizard wanted.

“What do you need, Gale? I'm kinda in the middle of writing down my to-do list.”

“Am I inclined to believe that you've been writing erotic novels that feature Astarion and I?” The wizard inquired.

“Pfft! What in the hells gave you that idea!” Tav laughed, her eyes staring off to the side nervously as she twiddled her thumbs. Gale pulled out a red leather bound book titled ‘Blood-Mage’. It was a ridiculously smutty novel about a young handsome sorcerer named Garrett Delarous who is reluctantly forced to team up with a dastardly, but world endingly beautiful Vampire Lord in order to save the world or some shit. (The book mostly focused more on smut than plot.) Amazingly the novel had made a killing after Tav had peddled it at Sharess's Caress. It seemed nearly everyone wanted a copy. (Tav was also pretty sure she noticed Halsin was reading the book as well.)

“My series is about a renowned sorcerer and a Vampire Lord. There's a difference, Gale.” Tav crossed her arms with a huff.

“You can't just profit off of other people's likenesses Tav! You at least need to pay them royalties!”

“I always give half the money I earn to Astarion.”

“I’m talking about me!”

“I think my beloved ‘gloves of power’ were more than enough payment for you.” Tav huffed before looking off to the side with a sad look.

I miss those gloves so much.

Gale sighed in annoyance, pinching the bride of his nose. He was used to Tav’s shenanigans at this point but this was just ridiculous. Not to mention while skimming through Tav's scandalous work he noticed the sorcerer was always on the bottom during intimate scenes. The audacity!

“Besides I use the money I make from this for not only myself and Astarion, but the rest of the camp as well. Adventuring ain't cheap ya know?”

“You can at least give me a small percentage of the profits. Say thirty percent?”

“Ten percent.” Tav said flatly.

“Twenty percent?”

“Ten percent.” Tav repeated.

“Fine.” Gale gives in, causing the shorter of the two to smirk triumphantly. Tav watched smugly as the wizard slumped off in defeat before quickly adding another note to her to-do list.

‘Give 10% of book money to the stinky wizard.’

Tav finished off her list as she felt a pair of cool arms wrap around her form from behind, her cheeks tinting light pink. “Do you really need to take five hours in the bath?” She hummed, turning her head to meet her partner’s crimson gaze. His hair was dry and looked rather soft and silky and he was dressed in this eccentric red silk robe with fluffy black trim.

“You can't rush art, darling.” Astarion purred before nuzzling his cheek against hers. “You know if you were getting impatient you could have joined me in the tub. I would have loved the company.” He murmured huskily.

“In these tiny ass bathtubs? I'd have to sit on your lap and even then I doubt we'd have enough room to really do anything.” Tav replied, nuzzling back against him.

“We could still try.~” The vampire cooed.

“Tempting, but the others have whined enough about our night time activities. Apparently we're noisy.”

“Then perhaps next time I shall have to gag you won't I?”

“Alright! I'm ending this conversation here!” Tav said quickly, face burning up at his teasing.

“Besides, I’ll need some sleep for tomorrow. Gortash won't kill himself, unfortunately.” Tav said with a yawn.

“Really? Now? I was hoping you'd at least cuddle with me before bed.” Astarion pouted.

“Oh you poor thing. Fine, we can cuddle till I fall asleep. Cutie.” The human female smiled sweetly before planting a kiss on her lover's cheek, receiving a content hum in response. Tav turned to pull away from the elf's embrace before suddenly feeling herself be scooped up and tossed over his shoulder.

“Hey! What did I say about picking me up!?” She whined, squirming a bit as she hung over his shoulder. “I don't like being manhandled!”

“But you're so adorable like this.~” Astarion teased, his hand gripping her ass as he carried over to the bed. Despite Tav’s complaints she did little else in protest besides pout and blush as she was whisked away. The two of them soon settled on the bed, Tav immediately nuzzling into Astarion's chest and relaxing. Astarion’s clawed fingernails found their way into her messy locks, caressing and running through them as the two snuggled together. His skin was cold to the touch, but honestly Tav actually liked it. It kinda reminded her of the cool side of her pillow. Even though there was the constant threat of death around every corner the two of them were still able to cherish their time together, and hopefully now that Astarion had been freed of his master they would continue to do so.

There was still the tiny issue of an evil alien brain thing that could turn them into soulless squid monsters, but they'd be able to take care of that sooner or later. A part of Tav wanted to put it off as selfish and dangerous as it could be. Because as soon as they destroyed the brain, they'd destroy the only protection Astarion had against the sun. Tav wasn't about to give up on finding a way for her love to enjoy the sun, but for now she'd at least make the time he has left in it special.

“Star….” Tav murmured aloud, her head tilting upwards to meet her partner's eyes.

“Yes dear?” He hummed.

“You know there's actually something I've been meaning to talk to you about. We've been together for a while now and well…we haven't actually had a real date….I mean I guess it's understandable considering we have to save the world and shit, but I was thinking maybe if there's time we could do something together....” Tav bit down on her lip as she sat up on the bed. She felt nervous all of a sudden, not used to asking for stuff like this. Astarion had always been the one to initiate most of their romantic activities. The best Tav could do was a kiss on the cheek or a hug and even that had taken a while for her to get comfortable with.

“What about all our little late night trysts? Do those not count as dates?” Astarion raised an eyebrow though his tone was playful.

“Ehh…well…rolling around in the dirt in the middle of nowhere isn't exactly what I'd call a date.” Tav said awkwardly, earning a chuckle from her vampire.

“I suppose you're right. We've never really had any bonding time without you being pinned underneath me.” He joked before quickly clearing his throat and finally trying to be serious. “What do you have in mind, darling?”

“I just want to take you out somewhere…We could go out to eat or just walk in the park….” The human female twiddled her thumbs as she trailed off, feeling butterflies in her stomach. “I'd be up for anything really as long as I'm with you.”

“I…would like that very much, my love.” Astarion cupped her cheek, his eyes soft and full of affection. He pulled her into a sweet chaste kiss, allowing her to return it before she pulled back and rested his forehead against hers.

Thudd!

Tav quickly pulled back from Astarion's embrace as she heard a noise. She looked around frantically for the sound.

“Tav? Is something wrong?” Astarion asked.

“I just heard something…” She said before suddenly her eyes landed at the window near their bed. On the opposite side of the window seat a small white bat could be seen looking through the glass. Its little red eyes stared at the human with an intense gaze. “It's a bat.” Tav pointed towards the window. Astarion looked over at the little creature before internally groaning.

No. She better not even think about it!

The bat blinked, looking at Tav a few times before curling its left wing against its body.

“I think its wing is injured!” Tav exclaimed with concern.

“Ugh leave it! We've taken in enough stray beasts!” Astarion scoffed, but Tav immediately ignored him, rushing over to the window.

“Tav! Don't! It probably has some horrible disease or something!”

Tav quickly opened the window, her eyes going soft as she looked down at the small animal. She moved to scoop it up into her arms but before she could the bat simply fell back.

“Shit!” She shouted.

“Thank the gods, it's dead. Now come back to bed, darling.” Astarion said, patting the spot besides him. Tav just glared at him silently before suddenly she wildshaped into a raven and flew out the window.

~•~•~•~•~

While Tav didn't preach about nature 24/7 like Halsin did she was still just as much of a druid as he was and couldn't bear to stay by while an injured animal was in need. (Much to her lover's dismay.) She'd flown out the window of their room and circled around looking for the little bat.

There was no sign of the winged beast anywhere near the elfsong, but at least that was a sign it likely hadn't fallen to its death. Tav kept searching, eventually straying further from the tavern until she was forced to land and give her wings a breather, returning back to her human form.

“Dammit it's so dark I can't tell where I am. Everything looks different at night.” Her eyes strained as she struggled to make out any familiarity. Despite having lived in Baldur's Gate for about ten years Tav had always made it a point not to roam about at night. Her lack of dark vision made night time prowling even more dangerous, especially in this city.

She decided to reserve her strength instead of wild-shaping again. From what she could make out in the dark she'd found herself in one of the back alleys. Tav kept stumbling around in the dark for a while until at last she began to consider heading back. The bat likely wasn't dead since she had seen no hair or hide of it and she really wasn't in the mood to find herself in trouble. It constantly seemed to follow Tav these days it seemed. Last time she wandered around the city by herself she got into a fist fight with some stuck up noble lady who had referred to her as ‘a fat ugly little boy’. (The others were not happy about sneaking her out of prison that day.)

Just as Tav was about to assume the form of a beast fit for the night she noticed some light up ahead. The graveyard had been illuminated by a couple of lanterns. Tav approached hoping it would help her map out her way back if she just remembered how to get to the Elfsong from there. However as soon as she got close to the light someone was waiting for her.

“Astarion?” Tav called out as her silver haired lover stepped out of the darkness. She expected nagging, and complaining about having to come out here looking for her, but instead Astarion just stared at her intensely as if studying every detail of her face. “Are you okay?” She asked with concern. Something was very strange about this. Astarion being quiet for long was never a good sign. Tav scanned him over, almost immediately noting his elegant attire. A black and red suit with silver bats embroidered on it. Odd. Tav had never seen him wear this outfit before. And he was always quick to show off any new clothes to her, seeking her praise. Astarion moved towards her quickly and out of nowhere pulled her into a crushing hug.

“Yes of course. I was just worried about you, my sweet.” His grip on her was almost uncomfortably tight, as if he was holding onto her for dear life.

“I haven't been gone that long….” Tav stiffened. There was an abnormal warmth to his body. Sure he was able to raise his temperature after feeding, but there was hardly a decent supply of beasties for him to nibble on in this city, not to mention he would have had to have found one pretty damn fast before seeking her out.

“You’ve always been such a brave little thing, haven't you?” He let out a chuckle, his grip on her didn’t falter. His tone didn't seem threatening, but one thing for sure set off an alarm in her.

Thump-thump.

Tav immediately ripped herself away from him and took a few steps back, her eyes glaring daggers. “Who the hells are you?” She snapped.

“Whatever, ever do you mean, pet?” His voice was full of false innocence, it reminded her a lot of how Astarion would often speak whenever accusations were hurled at him, but this person was definitely not her lover.

Tav’s first instinct was to assume he'd probably been one of the shape-changers they'd been attacked by in the past, but there was this gnawing gut feeling that this time was different.

“Drop the act. I've already met enough shit heads running around wearing someone else's face. Who are you really?”

“I’m Astarion. Really dear, I'm disappointed you have so little faith in me that you'd think I'd allow some lowly shape-changers near you.” He took a few steps forward.

“Stay away from me…” Tav growled out through gritted teeth. Damnit. She didn't have any weapons and was literally in her sleepwear.

“You seem tired, love. Perhaps we should head back so you can get some rest?” He extended his hand towards her. Tav was about to say something else before suddenly an arrow came out of nowhere, nearly hitting the Astarion look alike in the shoulder. He was able to dodge just in the nick of time. Tav gasped in surprise before quickly turning back to see another…. Astarion?

The two looked identical aside from their clothing. The imposter was wearing his elegant suit and the other one (whom Tav hoped to the gods was actually him) was wearing a familiar red and black doublet.

“Hells teeth.” Astarion spoke up as he looked over at the two. Tav immediately sniffed air around the second Astarion. The tiniest whiff of death hit her senses and immediately she ran over to him.

“Star!” Tav was by his side in an instant. His arm quickly looped around her hip protectively before he scanned over her face.

“Are you alright?” He asked, receiving a nod in response. Astarion then looked over towards his look alike. “My, aren't you just beautiful? I must admit I'm quite flattered you chose to imitate me.”

“Is that what you think of me? I'm hurt.” The other vampire laughed. “I am no mere imitation. I am you…..well a better you.”

“You're not making any sense!” Tav hissed, her jaw clenching as she suppressed the urge to let out an animal-like growl.

“Allow me to shed some light on it then. I come from a reality where instead of choosing to remain weak and pathetic we became who we always wanted to be.” Tav's eyes widened at the revelation, though she was still debating whether or not to believe all this madness. Of course she'd been to hells, the shadowfell and even fought a god so maybe this wasn't too far fetched.

“The Vampire Ascendant.”

“If you're telling the truth then why are you here? You have everything you want don't you?” The vampire spawn quirked an eyebrow. Meanwhile the Ascendant’s face suddenly turned cold. He almost looked sad.

“I did. Wealth, power, pleasure, everything I could ever dream of. I was on the cusp of dominating the entirety of the sword coast. Everything was mine. But none of it mattered without the one thing I cherished most. My beloved consort. My Tav.” His eyes suddenly locked into the human female. She felt small, cornered, like a rat caught between a cat’s paws. “He was taken from me…”

Tav stiffened, taking a step back. She really did not like where this was going. Her lover kept a gentle hold on her, staying between her and the other vampire.

“And now you're here to take my Tav I presume?” Astarion scoffed, “you obviously didn't care very much about yours then if you're already looking for a replacement.”

“HE WAS EVERYTHING TO ME!” Before Tav could think her lover was knocked off his feet. A punch had come at him faster than he could react. The Ascendant stood over him, shaking with anger. Tav moved over towards the vampire spawn as quickly as she could, checking him out. He seemed alright, albeit a little winded, possibly bruised. Astarion huffed, getting back to his feet. Tav was quick to cast cure wounds on him to help perk him back up.

The Ascendant took in a breath, regaining his composure. While the spawn swiftly tossed Tav a spare dagger from his pack. A fight was likely inevitable now.

“I’ve searched across thousands of timelines. None of these pathetic excuses for adventurers came even close to my beloved. That is…until I found you of course…” The vampire lord pointed a clawed finger at the druid. “You're the only one who resembles him in the slightest, albeit you are a bit more…voluptuous than he was.” He chuckled a bit.

“Okay hold on a minute! You can't just come here and take someone else’s Tav because you lost yours!” Tav pointed her dagger shakily towards him.

“My dear, I don't think you understand. I am the Vampire Ascendant. I can take whatever I want!”

“I don't care if you're the fucking god of gnomes I'm not going anywhere with you. I have my own Astarion.” Tav gripped the blade tightly while her free hand prepared to cast a spell.

“I had hoped you'd come quietly, but it seems we'll have to do this the hard way.” With a flash of pink light Tav was hit with a sleeping spell and fell to the ground unconscious. Her dagger dropped to the ground with a clatter. The spawn was quick to move in front of Tav taking out his rapier and aiming a swipe at the other vampire.

The Ascendant stepped back just as the thin slender blade nicked a cut across his attire, just barely missing his flesh. The spawn took another swing at him, nicking his side and gaining a kick to the ribs in return. The spawn huffed, quickly recovering before moving in for another attack.

However the Ascendant’s clawed hand struck first, slashing through the armor surrounding the Astarion's shoulder and slicing his flesh. The spawn cried out and gripped his arm as his counterpart smirked smugly, bringing his finger up to his lips and basically tasting his own blood.

“Mmm…Delicious.~” He purred. The Ascendant’s crimson eyes trailed over towards Tav before beginning to glow red. “To me, now.” He said as if issuing a command to unseen soldiers.

Within seconds two oddly familiar figures appeared out of mist. A sickly pale looking Halsin and Shadowheart, both with glowing red orbs for eyes.

“Gods below. You've turned your own friends into spawn!?” Astarion gasped, his face full of disgust.

“Eh…I wouldn't exactly call them friends…. Though they are much more compliant this way.” The vampire lord replied with a toothy grin. The spawn felt sick to his stomach. To think he could have ended up this way.

“Take care of my inferior self, would you darlings? I have places to be…” The Ascendant gave a small wave before quickly scooping the unconscious Tav up in his arms.

“Yes master.” The undead Shadowheart and Halsin replied, a bright red light shone around their bodies as they were compelled to attack.

“Farewell beautiful.” The vampire lord gave his spawn self a wink before quickly vanishing into mist, taking Tav along with him.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Astarion….” Tav muttered tossing and turning in her sleep as she slowly began to come to. She shot up in a cold sweat, her heart pounding.

“Ugh…That was a terrible dream. Star you wouldn't believe…” Tav went silent as her eyes scanned her surroundings. It in fact was not a dream.

“Oh gods damnit.” She huffed.

Tav was in a large elegant looking bedroom, lying upon a purple queen size bed adorned with fine silk sheets. Maroon red walls surrounded her and were decorated nicely by paintings and other fine wall decor. The first thing the druid noticed after taking in her surroundings was the pressure around her neck. Her hands quickly reached for her throat feeling what seemed like a tight choker of some kind. She quickly hopped off the bed and looked into the mirror of a nearby vanity that sat west of the bed. “Fucking hells.” She breathed out as her eyes laid upon a black and red collar adorning her neck. There was this unnerving glow surrounding the collar. Most likely some kind of magic was placed on it. Quickly she curled her fingers preparing to use a spell in order to tear this damn thing off of her, but nothing happened.

This thing must be silencing my casting somehow.

Tav for a moment before forming an idea. She could probably wildshape into something small and squeeze out. Maybe. The druid sighed before getting on all fours preparing to transform into a rat. She let out a grunt, but nothing happened.

“Oh fuck you!” She shouted before rolling and desperately trying to yank the collar off.

Tav growled and pulled on the neck piece, yanking as hard as she could, resorting to gnawing on it.

Knock knock.

The druid immediately ceased her actions at the sound of the door. A shiver went down her spine at the thought of it being that so-called ‘Vampire Ascendant’ again. Her eyes flickered around the room before she took hold of a candle stick and stood next to the door, back pressed against the wall.

The door creaked open and a small figure walked inside. Tav prepared herself to strike down whoever had entered, but froze upon seeing the person. It was a small blonde haired half-elf woman, dressed in a house keeper's attire.

Tav quickly looked into her eyes, letting out a sigh of relief as she noticed they were blue. She set the candlestick down on the vanity and looked at the half-elf curiously. “Who are you?” She asked.

“My name is Abigail, milady. The master sent me to help you get dressed and make sure you come see him.” The small woman piped up in a small soft voice. Abigail was petite and quite short, probably about an inch or two shorter than Tav was, though the druid estimated the half elf was probably around the same age as she was…well physically anyway. With elves you could really never tell.

“And exactly where am I?” Tav crossed her arms.

“The Crimson palace milady. My lord has taken up residence here while he stays in your realm.” Abigail replied before scurrying across the room, towards a closet. “It'd be best not to keep him waiting, my lady.” The half-elf rummaged around through the closet before taking a couple of different outfits to choose from and spreading them out over the bed. “My apologies if you'd prefer a dress, but this is all we could bring with us from our world.”

Tav blushed a bit in embarrassment as she realized she was still only wearing a tank and boxers. She looked over at the bed and took note of the three suits that laid out in front of her.

“These belonged to Master Tav. Master Astarion said they'd likely fit you, my lady.”

“Now hold on, I have questions! How did you all get here, and what is this thing!?” Tav demanded as she tugged on her collar once again.

“I'm sorry I can say no more. Please miss, just get dressed.” Abigail pleaded,a hint of fear was in her tone. Tav was hesitant, but begrudgingly she slipped off her tank before sliding into one of the suits, a red one that felt a little snug on her, but actually not by much. The only issue being that she couldn't get the top three buttons of the white undershirt that went with it to button. It left her cleavage slightly exposed. Her eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

“Okay, I'm ready.” She said, Abigail nodded and began to lead the druid out of the room.

Perhaps this was her chance? She could make a break for it on their way out! Tav braced herself to bolt only to be met with a shockingly familiar face as she exited the room. Lae'zel. Or well a vampire spawn that looked completely identical to her githyanki companion aside from a pair of glowing red.

“Dear gods, Lae'zel, what happened to you? Did Astarion do this?” Tav gasped in shock.

“She's not your Lae'zel, milady.” Abigail spoke up.

“I was told to make sure the master’s new pet came quietly, not to answer questions.” Lae’zel simply replied.

“Come on, let's go.” Abigail took hold of Tav’s arm, giving her a gentle smile before tugging her along. Lae'zel quietly followed, a seemingly permanent scowl on her face as she watched Tav's every move, almost daring her to run for it.

The three walked down a long corridor for what seemed like hours. The sound of footsteps along with her own heartbeat seemed to be the only thing Tav could process as a gnawing anxiety set in. Her chest tightened, her throat felt dry and she could feel this nervous pain dancing across her spine. She wasn't sure why but something about this other Astarion scared her. This Vampire Ascendant. She had never been afraid of her beloved spawn, hells she wasn't even afraid of Cazador or any other vampire she had come across on their journey, but something about her lover's counterpart made her skin crawl.

“Well aren't you just precious?” A seductive pur tore Tav from her thoughts, forcing her to look up and realize she'd been dragged out into the ballroom. It definitely was a lot cleaner than the past time she'd been here. All the blood and wolf corpses had been dealt with. Just how long has this other Astarion been here? He couldn't have just started squatting here, found and kidnapped Tav, and had time to clean everything up on the same day! The Vampire Ascendant sat upon Cazador’s old throne, looking down at Tav. His eyes trailing over her.

Tav took a deep breath before clearing her throat and trying to appear confident.

“Where is Astarion? And I mean my Astarion.”

“You needn’t concern yourself with him any longer. You're mine now and I will give you so much more than he ever could.~” The Vampire Lord stood up and stepped towards Tav slowly.

“I’m not your Tav. I can never be him.” The druid backed up a little, however with Lae’zel’s presence behind her she didn't have much room to retreat. She wasn't sure if reasoning with this alternate version of her lover was possible, but it was worth a shot if nothing else. However instead of listening he swiftly took her hands in his.

“No need to be modest, my pet, you're practically like him in every way. You have his eyes, his face, the same little quirks and ticks. Granted, you're built a little different anatomically, but that's not something that ever deterred me.” Astarion moved in closer, briefly pressing his lips against her knuckles. “And now that I've found you, nothing will ever part us. Not again.” Before Tav could speak she was pulled in for another tight hug. She squirmed a bit, conflicted feelings of pity and fear were arguing back and forth in her mind as she felt him nuzzling his face into her neck. He was clearly dangerous, but he also seemed heartbroken. He wanted anyway to have his lover back so badly he crossed time itself to see them again. Or at least someone who resembled them.

But Tav knew deep down she wouldn't be enough to fill the void left by her counterpart. Gods, she hoped there would be a happy ending to all of this.

~•~•~•~•~•~

A little note from ChaoticDruid: I really hope it didn't suck! I haven't published a fanfic in so long >~< This idea had just been swimming around in my brain forever I just had to get it out! I got the idea from the PS5 launch party animation and seeing Launch Astarion and EA Astarion flirting just made me go okay but what if it was Ascended Astarion and Spawn Astarion?

I don't know if I will continue it. I have other things I wanna write and my ADD makes this stuff so freaking hard. But maybe maybe not 🤞🤞

Part 2: LETS GOOOOOOO

305 notes · View notes

lynnlovesthestars · 5 months

Text

"Let me show you how this will benefit you".

For @ask-althaearoserun ❤

Pairing: Gortash x fem!OC (Althaea).

Genre: smut.

Warnings: dub-con (kinda since there's coercion), unprotected sex, fingering, oral fem! recieving, possessive Enver, improper use of throne and throne room, edging, orgasm denial, improper use of golden gauntlet, creampie, slight dumb-fucking, rough sex overrall.. if i missed anything let me know. author regrets nothing. Kind of semi-public sex. Slight power-play, implied ownership. spoiler for act 3.

Synopsis: He's got a proposal she can't refuse.

WC: 4.7k

AN: hello, it took me a while to get through this piece for Skull but a month later i finallydelivered it. With her consent I'm posting it- since her OC is out protag tonight-. Nevertheless let me know what you think, lots of love, lynn.

Wyrm's Rock was obnoxiously calm as they reached the bridge that allowed them into the fortress.

"Lord Gortash is expecting you, please make your way to the audience chamber." The steel watch repeated and repeated until they had stepped past the doors of the audience hall. They were surprised that they’d let them in so easily, yet they obliged seen their insistence without questioning too much the new rules of the fortress.

The audience hall was packed with royalty and steel watchers as Gortash was idly eyeing the door, awaiting for the last invited guests.

Them.

Enver had insisted on having them attend, not only to let them know who they were going against and the power he held, but also because he had heard so much about Althaea. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet the infamous slayer that took down Ketheric, though his first glance at her left him genuinely confused: he knew he could have her wrapped around his gauntlet before even getting to speak with her and her companions.

She was small, clearly a nuisance, compared to him and his grandiose presence in the room; in a normal setting, she would have passed unnoticed, but in the middle of royalty, she stood out.

Nevertheless, his focus was on the ceremony- though Karlach and her troupe didn't agree. The tiefling was furiously throttling towards him, seething and burning. He knew that the steel watch would not have been enough against her, and that it would have sent the wrong message to the masses present at the ceremony,

“A moment please, my friends- an old acquaintance has come to pay her respects." He mused as he took a step forward, descending the stairs. "Please, Karlach, come say a proper hello.” He said with a smile painted full of faux friendliness. His voice was clearly sweetened for the audience they had as he stepped towards her himself.

“My respects? You are lucky I’ve agreed to not shove my boot up your-” Karlach roared before he interrupted her with distaste.

“Ah how I missed your colorful turn of phrase.” He twirled his hand dismissively. “We must catch up as soon as I’ve had words with your little friend.” He uncaringly ignored the tiefling and glanced towards Althaea with dark eyes, clearly hiding something behind them.

“As for you, I shall congratulate.” He gave her a small bow of his head. “Thorn’s defeat has not passed unnoticed; shall I say thanks to that Netherstone you carry and for your astonishing fighting abilities”. He said with his honeyed voice. “Pleasure to meet you” He gave her a small bow with her head, politeness first, persuasion later.

He had wondered how she’d rudely introduce herself, telling him to fuck off or hells knows what, yet the moment she opened her pretty mouth, she sounded anything like the gruesome descriptions of her persona he had heard.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Lord Gortash.” She put up her best smile, concealing her mild disgust at the closeness with him. She could feel the bile forming in the back of her mouth already.

“I believe we have something rather important to discuss.” He pressed his hands together and cracked his fingers, readying for the extenuating and boring conversation they were going to have. “Indeed” She nodded, looking at his movements in case he’d rush a movement.

The conversation went on between Gortash trying to gauge how much they had known and Althaea respectfully grunting and nodding as he went on and on.

It felt for her as if he was trying to stroke her mind as he spoke, keeping her in the loop of the conversation yet leaving behind chunks of information he didn't want to reveal yet.

It was only at the end that he finally seemed to take a step closer to his objective, finally poking at their only protection against the absolute.

“That prism of yours won’t last indefinitely.” He said sternly while he crossed his arms apprehensively. “Next there's the grand design. Though I suppose that if we come to an agreement, this fate can be avoided.” He concluded in a smirk.

“What do you suggest?” She quickly ignored the emperor in her head as she replied with a shake of her head yet standing tall and confident in front of him, not allowing him to believe he had the upper hand against them. Enver seemed entertained by her stance, so insignificant yet so annoying in the bigger picture of his plan. He had two choices: either squish the fly or get the fly on his side, and he was a mastermind at the end of the day.

“Well, the brain won’t respond to new commands as soon as it is done with its current ones. Then it will be free to do as it wishes, and that would be rather unpleasant.” He pointed arch and clever. “And once it’s freed I doubt we’ll ever be able to bring it under control again.” He smacked his lips together as he threw a glance at Althaea- that was now at the center of everyone's attention.

“I still don’t see where you are going” She lied, seeing behind his mask of politeness. He wanted something. He had that look in his eyes that reminded her of how her father would look at her before he'd try to make a move to overpower her, and she wanted to throw up right there and then. Yet she knew she had to do this: for the sake of her friends, for the sake of the city, and possibly for the sake of the whole coast.

It was almost as if his words were calculated, trying to catch her in like a spiderweb set up for the next victim, and his sweet- almost sincere words, where the honey he bet would get her to agree. As if admitting having made a poor alliance would have somewhat fixed all that there was wrong with the situation.

“They say a brittle alliance can never be mended; it is bound to break.” He intoned as if he had rehearsed those words countless times. “Orin is unreliable, and with Ketheric gone, she will want the stone for herself” He simply explained axiomatic. “She only cares for blood, and mine and yours are positively delectable right now.” There was the threat.

Orin.

He would betray her if he needed- and he hoped the merry troupe would agree. He was the better way anyway. Giving Orin all that power would have created devastation and unleashing the brain would waste all this gracious power he was about to grasp at.

No one was fitter to sit ahead of Baldur's Gate like the adept of Bane.

Nevertheless, Althaea didn't budge. If he wanted something he had to say it out loud, in front of everyone in the room. “I suppose you are right, but I still don’t see what you are trying to say” She huffed.

“I can’t let that happen, I don’t want to destroy this city, I want to steer it to its glory." He trailed off with another of his sly smiles. “I have a proposition for you” He finally advanced, looking at Althaea first before addressing the rest of the party.

“A divine oath, sworn and unbreakable. I shall do no harm to you, nor you to me." He propositioned. "You'll slay Oring and with all three of the Netherstones we’ll rule Faerun as kings.” He spelled each of his last words as if they were the best promise he had for them, a vision of success and glory that everyone would run for. “No more than kings- gods. We'll rule as the absolute.” He hyped himself with his own words, as the taste of power already floated in his reach for him to snatch.

“The only absolute here is my no.” She said firmly trying to ignore the same feeling he had, the need for power.

His eyes muted, as if he had a new challenge to accomplish, he had set his mind on. “Oh dear, I didn’t know I had to convince you.” He lowered his voice, while his eyes stared daring. “I shall do so once we are done with the ceremony then.” He dismissed them just as quickly as he had with Ketheric before he left him to his demise.

The ceremony was painfully boring as all the honors had to be made, introducing the most relevant figures in the room and witnessing the tadpoled Duke proclaim Gortash archduke. Althaea could swear even her tadpole was squirming in boredom as the time went on, but there was something about Gortash as he politely entertained the crowd that made her cheeks grow warmer. He'd occasionally made sure to take glances her way, not even attempting to conceal them as the event formally came to an end and their debate resumed.

It had been a long and extenuating conversation up to that moment, the more Althaea and Enver would bicker, the more the room would feel warm, and with Karlach's occasional comments, the tension was over the top.

The two were figuratively at each other’s throat. It was a battle of wit, and whether Althaea would end up accepting it or not was up to Enver’s skills.

She couldn’t deny the allure of the man, and she knew it was better to stay on his good side rather than his bad side.

“This won’t end well, mark my words” Karlach remarked with a scoff while Enver had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

“I understand your concerns, my old friend, but allow me to demonstrate why you made the right choice.” He purred again, as if he had not tried to reason with them already. He couldn't help but notice Althaea's reaction, her frame shivering when he lowered his voice at last. “You should focus on finding the impostor in your camp” He dismissed Karlach with the useless information of the vanished druid as his eyes fell on Althaea again, already undressing her with his eyes.

"Let me show you how you'll benefit from this deal" He stepped closer to Althaea, making sure his words were low enough to caress her skin only.

She could even smell his thoughts as they floated in the room, between them, just like the polite dislike she felt towards him, inviting her brain to stir towards the thought of being bent over the throne, her legs spread for Gortash as he rolled his hips.

If his point was to get her aroused, he was doing way too good for her wellbeing.

“Let them out” Enver leaned forward and ordered with a whisper that was so rough she could have mistaken him for a rabid animal. A long shiver ran down her spine as she obliged.

It took her a moment to convince them it was safe, that she was going to be okay, and he was not going to hurt her, his mind had said so, his body had said so, and she knew he had better intentions than murdering her right there, or so she hoped.

“Where were we?” He asked, smiling as soon as everyone stepped out and the doors closed behind her.

“The benefits from the deal.” She raises an inquisitive eyebrow at him, wondering where he was going with his words and his behavior. She could tell he had other plans that didn't involve much talking and she hated that she wanted to find out what those plans were.

“Ah yes” He circled around her as if she was his prey and he was about to devour her, the tip of his gauntlet traced her jawline, gently tilting her head as if he wanted her to follow his gaze. “The benefits” He hummed as he was again in his original place. “Follow me, dear.” He offered his hand like a gentleman for her to take. “Let’s take a seat.”

She was dizzy by his words as she accepted his hand and followed him promptly, still trying to keep her composure as they had to come to some sort of compromise. She had to keep up the polite mask, ask for the right things and leave.

When they came close to the red lined throne, she was quick to catch up eased when Enver roughly gripped her hips and sat her in his lap, as if she was his pretty toy for everyone to see as he sat there regal.

She tried to keep her composure even though she could feel her wetness starting to seep through her now soaked panties, not too far from Enver’s thigh. “So, the benefits?” She smiled expectantly as she tried to ignore the redness of her cheeks.

“Well, let's start with a special seat for you, dear.” He purred as he hooked his arm under her legs to properly seat her in his lap, her legs dangling off one side of the golden throne, where she knew she could admire the hall in its whole beauty. She hummed as she didn't dare to look around yet.

“Don’t you like the view?” He teased as he guided her head towards the entrance to the room, from where she could see every corner of the hall. He made a particular effort in being delicate as she manhandled her, making sure she couldn't miss a chair even if she tried to look away again.

Earlier she didn't notice the tapestries hung on the high walls, setting the scene for the countless events that were held there.

“It’s pretty, but it’s not enough” She shrugged faking disinterest.

“Isn’t it?” He asked curiously as rested his gauntleted hand on her thigh deliberately. The cold gold almost stung against her warm skin as it inched way too close to her pussy. She had to focus on the deal and get out of there, she thought, she had to sort this out and leave.

“How about this?” He purred as his index finger made its way towards her soaked underwear, running a finger over her clothed heat. He let out a rough hum as his fingertips drenched just as quickly as she refused again.

“Not enough, sorry” She pushed her legs closed and tight, as the blush on her cheeks made her even more appealing at Enver's eyes.

He didn't retreat as he brushed the tips of the gauntlet on her tight, still reminding her where she was sitting and how sensitive she was to his touch. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.” He whispered as he made sure his lips brushed against her ear.

It didn't take much for her to smell the pungent scent of cheap cologne and sweat, quickly taking over all her senses.

One arm of his quickly wrapped around her middle, supporting her back as his slender fingers quickly spread her legs and moved her underwear to the side before diving ring-deep into her folds.

He let out a low, dark groan as her pussy clenched around his index finger the second it slid in. She was so wet for him, and he was so eager to see her crumble in his arms. The shallow whine she indulged in sounded like poetry to the man.

His thumb took its time to find her clit, gently teasing her sensitive nub. His skilled movements were leaving her breathless as she had to keep herself from moaning his name out loud whenever the pad of his finger would bring her so close.

“I suppose this is a good reason then?” He vexed her teasingly as he stopped on his tracks, waiting for her reply eagerly.

She was leaning against him just enough so she wouldn't lose balance as she gasped. Her body was still taught as if on the verge of a cliff awaiting to be pushed off, yet she was kept there, tense.

She shook her head no, the smallest hint of sanity left in her had pushed, reminding her that she couldn't give it all up for an orgasm, right?

“Ah, pity” He huffed as he quickly slid out his fingers, uncaring if it would stimulate her too much, leaving her gasping and empty, though still in his lap. She almost begged him to not retreat, the newfound need was already enough in her eyes for him to grasp at as he tsked.

"Need further reasons?" He asked wickedly as he undressed her with his eyes. He could already imagine how her shirt would tie nicely around her wrists as he pinned her down and he made sure she could feel his thought deep down her bones.

His eyes wouldn’t leave hers for a second, whenever she tried to look away, he’d gently grasp at her chin and bring her attention to him again. She could feel her body heating ever more under his skillful touch as he couldn't help himself but to feel her again, basking in the moment he allowed another finger to enter her, and he stole a soft mewl from her lips.

This time he was quick, hurried, abrupt as his fingers plunged and grasped at her breath, and just as quick he took his fingers away from her cunt, leaving her just at the cusp of her orgasm again.

“Please-” She let out as she begged to come, she could feel her orgasm so close, yet so far, just a few pumps away, although those ended up being denied to her.

“I apologize, I suppose that’s part of the deal, if you’ll accept of course” He whispered before he languidly brought his fingers in his mouth. He was so undeniably sexy, looking at her from under his dark lashes as he sucked her juices off his pads, the wet sound of his lips swallowing her was sending Althaea over the edge. “Ah how I wished you had agreed.” He sighed as he made sure he'd lick each finger clean. “I would have been delighted to taste this lovely juice directly from the source.”

She swore her eyes rolled at the back of her head just at the thought of his tongue taking a fat lick down her pussy, drenching his stubble with her wetness, and the way he had been swirling it along his fingers looked like a promise she might have been desperate enough to accept.

“Unless you need more, of course.” He noted sultry as he made no effort hiding what he was alluding to.

She hesitated. She wanted to reason, to ask what the accord would have stipulated, yet all she could focus on was the ache between her thighs and the need to be filled before she’d miss the chance.

She nodded as she gripped the edge of her skirt with a blush she couldn’t hide. He hummed satisfied as he quickly secured his arms around her, holstering her frail body and setting her down on the flush throne.

Quickly and uncaring he tore her panties away from her skin, and spread her pretty legs, revealing her sopping pussy to him.

He fell to his knees brazenly, bringing his face close to her heat, humming at the sight of her wetness dripping onto the chair.

His hot breath hitting her naked and dripping core right before his plump lips met with her cunt in a lazy lick, collecting her arousal on his tongue. A filthy growl escaped his lips as he dived between her legs, dedicating his attention to her needy clit, having her whole body shake under his tongue as pleasure overtook her senses completely.

No one ever remotely made her squirm with their tongue the way Enver was doing just about now as he traced figures eight on her swollen bud, her legs shaking as he guided them around his neck, resting them on his back and being totally engulfed face first in her pussy.

His finger soon joined, swiftly plunging into her core with ease. It was like she was losing control of her own body as he pumped his digit in her, hitting right where she needed it as his tongue eagerly swirled and licked her like a hungry and desperate man sitting in front of his last meal, devouring and dipping in her folds like a madman.

Althaea could barely keep her mouth shut as she wailed his name like a forbidden grace as a second finger slid in, his low moans reverberated through her as she sucked him in, clenching around his digits hungry for more, hungry for him.

He licked her, kissed her, savored her, every centimeter of her throbbing warm pussy getting him high off her, the most euphoric he’s ever been.

He pumped his fingers in her cunt insatiably as she could feel it build up, the familiar knot as her muscles tensed up, feeling the heat rise and her legs shake. Then when she finally could taste her orgasm on the tip of her tongue, he stopped again.

He looked at her almost feigning innocence as he cleaned his drenched stubble with his fingertips. He popped each one his mouth again, before sitting up and leaning forward in front of her.

She looked and felt so small under him as he towered menacingly above her, and even more when she noticed his erection aggressively pressing against his trousers.

He couldn’t help but laugh at her wide eyes, stealing a scoff from her. She turned away, her cheeks already bright crimson from the heat coming from her own body, the embarrassment just doubled up on her.

“ ‘suppose you like what you see?” He tantalized as he grasped at her chin, and harshly turned her head towards him.

She nodded a bit dazed from the fast movement as she was still slouched on the throne, legs wide open for him; before they could both line more words, he was on her again.

His lips trailed down her neck, peppering her skin with sloppy open-mouthed kisses as he mumbled praises against the hot flesh he was ready to devour. His body pressed heatedly against hers, his fingers hungrily digging in her skin as he earned a guttural moan from her.

“Accept and all of this will be yours” He rasped as he pressed his clothed hard cock against her cunt, grinding just enough to tease her and ease a bit his erection.

She knew what she was about to bargain with, yet her senses were taken over by her thirst, desperate for release. “Make me come and I’ll accept.” She purred as she bit her lip, almost drawing blood as eager as she was.

He tilted his head, still holding tight to her chin as he considered her offer. “Don’t know” He shook his head, not breaking eye contact with her. Though she was completely disheveled- half naked and slouching, she still didn’t lose her confidence. He liked it, she was breathtaking.

She was bold in her movements as he pushed away his hand from her chin and grabbed the collar of his button up. “Shut up and kiss me already.” She pulled him down as she sat up, making him space on the throne again and making sure she was straddling him comfortably.

Her legs perfectly draped over his lap as she pressed her warmth against his cock. She relentlessly held to his collar as their lips collided in a rough kiss.

His coarse lips felt scorching against her sweetness, taking over her senses with the aggressive and pungent taste of cheap wine and sweat. The second she tasted it, she knew she was not going to be able to give it up for anything.

He didn't get undressed, nor did he undress her more than her panties that were already missing, he simply quickly untied his pants and freed his cock. He was strong and the way he was holding her and guiding her on top of his cock was proof of it- just making Althaea more eager to be filled.

The cold of the golden gauntlet was just the tip of the iceberg as her body was so eager and close already. He had tortured enough, yet the way he pulled her up to have better access to her pussy, made her even hornier than before.

He was quick in sinking into her cunt, loudly and rough as he manhandled her effortlessly. “So tight, doll” He grunted as he dug his fingers in her soft flesh, stealing a strangled moan from Althaea’s loose lips.

She was lucky the chatter from outside was loud enough cause, if that was what he could coax out of her with one blunt thrust, she didn’t dare to imagine how she’d keep her lewd sounds unheard.

She stretched so nicely around him as he filled her to the brim, he didn’t wait for her to adjust before he’d start moving.

He did a good job hiding it until then, but he was dying to fuck her senseless. Looking at her tossing her head back and moaning his name sent a rush of adrenaline down his body to his cock as he mercilessly slammed into her.

One hand quickly snuck under her shirt, sloppily grabbing her breast and teasing her nipple as he could feel her already inching closer to her first orgasm.

The way she rode him drove him insane, unable to form sentences from time to time while the only thing he could do was use his hands to guide her, gripping her ass and helping her to keep some speed as she choked on her words.

All that could be heard was the sound of ragged breath and skin slapping as she tried to meet his speed. He had her wrapped around his cock so consumed as his movements did nothing but make her mewl and sub for him.

She didn’t have the power to question how he did it, but his hips met with her in such an electrifying way as he rolled deep in her.

With one deep thrust he had her eyes rolled back as he rammed her and fucked her till exhaustion.

“You’re mine” He rasped as the words mindlessly fell over his lips with a possessiveness neither expected. “You understand?” He demanded as he suddenly slowed down, his thrusts hitting deeper, till that sweet spot that made her toes curl and her stomach flutter.

Y-Yes” She mewled as his nails once more found her hips, pulled her down and closer to him

“Say it” He ordered as he deliberately let go of her hips, allowing gravity to harshly let her collide with him. “Who do you belong to?” He grabbed at her chin and guided her face towards his.

Her eyes were dilated, her mouth slack as she fucked herself on his cock desperately. “Yours” She wailed as her hips twitched frantically.

“Say my name, doll” He rasped as he could feel her cunt ready to milk him as he waited for her reply.

“I-I” She moaned as she could feel her orgasm pull over her. “B-belong” His hands gripped at her hips again, helping her come as he met her movements. “E-enver” She croaked and sobbed as she could barely hold on to herself anymore, the pleasure rippled under her skin uncontrollably, like a tidal wave pulling her in and out as she gushed over his cock.

His lips hungrily met with hers again as she sobbed a moan against them, his movements were sloppy just like his kiss as he let his own intense, reckless, arrogant orgasm was over him.

He carelessly came into her cunt, enjoying the view of his cum filling her to the brim and spilling on her legs. His words were a faint buzzing as she could barely feel her spine and leaned against him, yet she didn’t care anymore.

She had already fucked up when she accepted and there was no way back.

No way back from being fucked silly on a throne.

Just an handful of minutes later she was standing next to her companions, the closest she could get to presentable as his cum dribbled down her thighs as she sealed her deal with Enver, that smirked at her.

“I, lord Enver Gortash, in the name of Bane, swear I shall do you no harm, and we will rise together over Toril as a roaring sun” He smiled boldly at her, as he offered her his hand, waiting just for her to take it.

194 notes · View notes

underdark-dreams · 6 months

Note

I would like to request something soft and sweet. Years after saving the Gate and having moved in with Rolan, Cal, and Lia, Tav is enjoying the day reading/admiring Rolan as he works, and then either a) Tav asks Rolan to marry them or b) Rolan asks Tav to marry him.

Thank you 💕💕

Rolan x fem!Tav

Was it wrong to feel selfish about the person you loved? Rolan and Tav finally get a night alone at the Tower to talk about what each of them wants.

Tags: Romantic Fluff, Mild Angst, Marriage Proposals | SFW

Word Count: 4,316 [Read on AO3]

“All right, all right. Three harpies at once, no weapons. How do you win?”

“Do they have the high ground?”

From the settee by the fire, Lia pointed down at her little brother as though he’d brought up a key point. “You’re on even terrain.”

“Right, this one’s easy.” Cal settled back comfortably against the rug with hands clasped behind his head. “I start yelling loud enough that I can’t hear the harpy song. Then, I charge at whichever one’s singing loudest and knock the wind out of them with my horns, and then, you know." He waved a hand around vaguely. "Rough 'em up."

“So fucking stupid—” Lia fell sideways in her seat, clutching her side with laughter.

“I keep telling you, you’re always forgetting about the horns.” Cal jabbed a finger at his forehead. “Natural advantage, Lia, you should know this by now.”

The absurd conversation was impossible to block out, but Rolan made an attempt as he bent over his desk. Behind him, he felt Tav's chest reverberating with laughter at his siblings.

She was in one of her affectionate moods tonight. She'd drawn up a chair behind his in order to rest her cheek against his back, one wrist draped loosely over his shoulder.

Rolan didn't mind the closeness—he never did from her. But between her warmth and his siblings' ridiculous game of what-if, he'd barely written one paragraph in the past ten minutes. He finally gave up and set aside his quill.

Tav shifted slightly on his shoulder. "How's Gale?" She asked, perhaps feeling guilty about interrupting his concentration.

“He’s well. His new class has a few with real promise, according to Tara.”

"I can't believe Tara likes you more than me," she mumbled suddenly against his back. "I met her first."

Her petulant tone made his mouth twitch into a smile. He would’ve turned to kiss her if they were alone. Instead, Rolan only pressed his lips to the hand draped over his shoulder. "Tressyms know a good wizard when they see one, dearest."

“Makes two of us,” she replied. The soft words ghosted across the skin on his neck, raising goosebumps under his collar.

It suddenly seemed like a very good idea to tell his siblings to get lost. Rolan was saved the necessity by a stroke of good timing. Near the fireplace, there was the soft clinking of plate armor as Lia got to her feet.

“Right, I’m off—” Lia buckled her scabbard around her waist as she rose, her shortsword tip clanking against the greaves over her shins. “Can’t be late to lead my first evening patrol.”

It had never occurred to Rolan before that Lia might end up in the Flaming Fist. He had to remind himself that the company’s reputation had improved considerably in the year since Florrick had succeeded Ulder Ravengard. Corruption and bad behavior had flourished under Gortash, but Florrick had done much to clean the Fists’ ranks of the worst—at least within the city walls.

As he looked at her now, standing tall in her emblazoned surcoat, Rolan realized that his young sister was quite grown up. She’d earned a promotion to Gauntlet faster than any of them expected, a fact she loved to remind them of—especially Rolan. Lia took care of others the way she always had, and now she could take care of herself. The thought was somehow bittersweet in Rolan’s chest.

"Me as well," Cal chimed in from the floor. Though he only stretched arms and legs out long with a massive yawn.

“Don’t rush off,” Rolan drawled, but there was affection in it.

“Highberry’s are across the street, I got a few minutes.” Cal scrubbed his face with both hands as if to wake himself. “We got new ones at the orphanage last week, twin boys. They’re good kids, but gods, do they play hard…feel like my back’s aged about ten years…”

Lia stepped over to give him a hand up with a chuckle. “Read the room, Cal. The lovers need their alone time.”

Cal glanced around at the two in question. Tav still rested her cheek on Rolan’s shoulder with an expression of dreamy happiness, while Rolan was failing to hide a scowl. Lia knew how he hated when either of them used that word.

“Ah, right—” Cal slipped to his feet, sounding eager to be off all of a sudden. “I’ll be back after sunrise. Keep the place together while I’m gone?” He added, a fine joke considering Cal was always the one breaking things.

Rolan’s only response was to wave his quill behind him in a shooing motion. Tav called a friendly goodbye to brother and sister as they made their way down the main staircase, chatting as they went.

Once their footsteps had retreated completely, her restraint evaporated. “Thank the Gods, come here—”

Rolan barely managed to save his inkwell from overturning as she twisted to launch her torso across his lap, capturing his face in both hands for an enthusiastic kiss. His near arm gripped around her middle, no doubt leaving ink stains from his fingers against her linen shirt—he found himself unable to care about anything but the sweet taste of her lips.

They each pulled away for breath at the same moment. Tav’s grip lingered, her fingers combing back through his hair gently to clasp together at his nape.

“Hello,” she grinned. Her eyes roamed over his face like he was everything.

Rolan’s palm brushed down her back, utterly content. “Hello.”

They took each other in like that for a long moment, just enjoying the quiet closeness. Her fingers smoothed and combed the hair back from beside Rolan’s horns needlessly—a fussy gesture that nevertheless brought a hum of contentment to his chest.

Apparently satisfied that she had him put back to sorts, Tav’s hands moved to rest on Rolan’s shoulders. “Got more work to do?”

Though she phrased it as a question, Rolan sensed she already knew the answer. He let out a reluctant sigh.

“Go on,” said Tav, not waiting for his reply. Rolan’s shoulders received a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll wait for you.”

With one last soft kiss, she slid off his lap and away. Rolan said nothing, but he instantly missed the warm weight of her against him.

Tav retrieved her current reading from the shelves behind and curled up on the now-vacant settee near the fireplace. Though his spirit rebelled, Rolan picked up his quill again to continue writing his last few replies. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could join her.

For a while the vaulted room settled into a quiet, echoing lull. There was the crackle of magical flame in the great stone hearth; the rhythmic scratch of ink against parchment; the faint whistle of an evening breeze out on the open balcony beyond. Periodically, he heard Tav turn another page of her book.

Before long he’d reached the final sealed envelope on the day’s pile. As Rolan stretched his hand for it, he caught sight of Tav watching him over the back of her seat.

“What?”

“Just admiring,” she sighed, eyes sparkling. “You look so handsome when you’re concentrating like that.”

Rolan’s brow wrinkled playfully at her. “Am I not usually handsome?”

“Always.”

“Hmm. You just think that because you’re in love with me,” Rolan replied curtly. He turned back to his work in an attempt to hide the way she made him smile and flush like an idiot.

“Both can be true,” she called back, not denying anything. But Rolan heard the shuffle of pages as she returned to her reading.

It took him a moment to regain concentration on his work. Rolan’s eyes reread several lines of the letter before him multiple times. But this one was truly quite important—a missive from the archwizards’ council at Blackstaff Tower. They were inquiring about his arcane research, apparently intrigued for the first time in years by his own Tower’s new ownership. He dove back in to focus on answering their questions in detail.

Half an hour and five sheets of parchment later, Rolan finally surfaced back to reality. He straightened up and promptly felt a pop in his neck from his stiff writing posture. The last light of sunset had slipped from the sky, leaving inky blackness behind each vaulted window of the cathedral-like interior.

As he rolled his aching shoulders, Rolan glanced toward Tav—only to find that the seat by the fire was empty. Rolan glanced back around the room, finding the rest of it empty as well.

Had she given up waiting and gone up to bed? The thought disappointed him, though it opened up other possibilities.

But Tav had told him she'd wait, and she wouldn't lie. As he rose from his desk to search for her, Rolan caught a faint metallic tap from the balcony.

Her silhouette was cast in relief against the dark sky. It was a moonless night; the pale orange glow of lamplight from the streets far below was the only light lining the edge of her figure, that and what little firelight streamed out through the highly vaulted doorway. Tav leaned on her elbows, the pewter wine glass under her fingers tapping an absent little rhythm against the stone railing. It was one of her habits when deep in thought.

Rolan allowed himself a moment to admire her. Seeing her in a quiet pose like this was one of his favorite things in all the Realms. Tav had become so many things to so many people in the short year he’d known her: hero, savior, diplomat, even rather a politician.

But tonight, for now…she was just Tav. His Tav.

Rolan felt a pang of something like guilt in his stomach. It was by no means the first time he’d had such a feeling about her. His; possessive, controlling. It reminded him of the way he used to think before she came into his life.

For a long time, Rolan had felt a need to control the people he loved. If he didn’t, who would? Control just went hand in hand with protection. Caring for others was a luxury, and if the events of his life had taught him anything up to that point, it was that fate and misfortune were always looking for ways to separate you from what you cared about most.

And Tav had slipped so easily into the deepest depths of his heart. At first begrudgingly, resentfully…Rolan hadn’t exactly seen her as a welcome addition to their lives when they’d first met long ago on the road to Baldur’s Gate.

Right now, it was impossible to imagine anything but love for her.

As Rolan watched a soft breeze ruffle the ends of her hair, something uncertain bloomed inside of him. Was it wrong to feel selfish like this about the person you loved? The question hung unanswered in his chest. Rolan felt its weight there tonight, like a heavy stone dragging on his heart.

His hand absently brushed against the small leather pouch he kept tied on his belt—there was a small clink of metal against metal from inside.

“Just going to stand there?”

Tav’s voice brought him back to reality in the most pleasant way. Rolan blinked to find that his legs had carried him forward to the arched doorway of their own volition.

Tav stood a few strides away, watching him over her shoulder with a bemused smile. The firelight streaming out from behind him softly illuminated her features.

In the next moment, Rolan had closed the distance to tilt her face into a kiss. Her empty cup clattered forgotten to the stone tiles at their feet. Would he ever tire of the way her arms circled around his shoulders like that?

Rolan didn’t think it was likely—he nuzzled against her cheek as their lips parted, inhaling her familiar and comforting scent.

“What’s with you tonight?” Tav laughed, the sound breathy and soft against his collar.

“What?” Rolan protested, drawing her away slightly to examine her face. “Can’t I appreciate the woman I love?”

A happy flush rose to her cheeks, unnoticeable in the dim to someone without Rolan’s precise vision. But notice he did, just as she caught the way his golden eyes traveled over her expression. Tav pressed her face back into his shoulder as her arms squeezed tighter around him.

“I wish we had more time,” she said against the crook of his neck.

Rolan tried to quell the instinctive panic that rose in his chest at her words. Instead, he stroked a hand over her hair. “What do you mean?”

The way she paused before answering allowed Rolan’s heart just enough time to wind up to a brisk rhythm against his ribcage. Eventually, Tav leaned back to look at him. Her expression had grown quite serious.

“I know that you—” She cut herself off, then wet her lips and began again. “Rolan, this place is your life. I’m not under any misconceptions that all this—” She tipped her head and looked sideways as if to indicate the Tower itself. “—That any of it’s going away any time soon. You know that, right?”

Her face tilted toward him with utter sincerity. Rolan found that his thoughts were forming with an odd slowness, as if swimming around his brain through something gelatinous.

“And you’ve been very understanding,” he managed to tell her. The guilt from earlier returned its grip over his chest. “More than I deserve.”

She sighed as her hand rose to his cheek. “Thank you for saying that…but you wouldn’t if you knew how often I daydream about kidnapping you away all for myself.”

Before Rolan could find a response to that, Tav had stepped back out of his grip with a soft curse.

“Damn—” She swore again, then wrung her hands with a shaky, anxious laugh. “This shouldn’t be this hard.”

Rolan still didn’t understand quite what she was saying, a sensation that he found deeply uncomfortable. It made him feel like a vessel adrift. He clasped hands behind his back to anchor himself, collecting his features into a guarded expression.

“Please,” Rolan invited her, tipping his horns to her in a way that felt awkwardly formal. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know.” She chewed the inside of her lip as she watched him. There was a tense pause, and then she launched in abruptly.

“I’ve been thinking our life here in your Tower. You and me—us. And,” she added, “I’ve been thinking about your work. How much it means to you…how far you’ve come in just a year.”

Tav gave him a small smile, as if casting back to those tense and awkward times when they’d first known each other. Then her face fell again. “Sometimes it just feels like there’s something missing.”

Rolan found he had to glance away from her for a moment to collect his thoughts. “Are you unhappy?” He asked her slowly.

“What? Not at all—” Tav shook her head with vehemence. “You make me so happy, Rolan, you have no idea. It’s just that I—I’m not always satisfied,” she finished weakly.

“I see.” Rolan kept his face very still, but his pulse beat painfully in his throat.

She was unsatisfied with the life of an archmage’s partner. It was perfectly understandable—before she’d come to live with him, Tav traveled far and wide, sometimes leaving the city for a week to visit her far-flung companions across Faerûn and the very hells themselves.

A life spent cooped up in a tower, no matter how grand—how could he have ever thought it would be enough for her?

Rolan’s guilty conscience was deserved. He had been too selfish with her. He wanted her safe; he wanted her here. Most of all, he wanted Tav to want to be with him.

And Rolan had been so sure that she did. Perhaps he’d let the strength of his own feelings mislead him.

Rolan was painfully aware of the silence stretching on between them. Another evening breeze stirred the air, and as it rustled through their clothing, Tav’s eyes searched his face.

“What are you thinking?” she asked quietly.

Behind his back, Rolan’s hands clenched where she couldn’t see them. Right now he was thinking of the small leather pouch that had hung from his belt for months, and the two small metal objects it contained, and the many ways he had imagined offering one of them to her. But none of those were things he should tell her now.

“Nothing,” Rolan answered aloud. “Only that I’ve been rather foolish.”

In response to that, a strange, puzzled expression passed over her face. Then her lips parted.

“Ohhhh—” The sound rose from deep in her chest, a pained exhale. “No, Rolan, no no—”

Tav stepped to grasp his face between her hands with such speed that Rolan nearly flinched in surprise at the contact.

“I’m such an idiot,” she confessed to him. Her voice was very small all of a sudden. “I know I might not have the right to ask you, Rolan—but I don’t want less. I want more.”

Rolan’s eyes traveled back and forth between hers as if there was some hidden message he was missing there. “More?” He repeated, questioning.

Tav nodded her head very slowly at him. “More of you. More of us.”

In the next instant it felt like the weight tangled around Rolan’s heart had snapped its line and plummeted straight down into his stomach. As he watched the firelight reflected earnestly in Tav’s eyes, realization shot up his spine like a shockwave.

The force of his relief made his head spin. Rolan wanted to say a dozen different things to her all at once. Unfortunately, he found that his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth at the moment.

Instead—in a rare moment of clarity that was all reflex and no logic—Rolan felt himself sinking to one knee in front of her.

“Why are you—”

Tav’s eyes went wide as she followed his face down to where he landed. Her hands fell from where they’d held him to hang down limp at her sides; her chest rose and fell as if she’d run a flight of stairs.

“How can you not know by now?”

What a terrible way to begin, he thought—yet those were the words Rolan found leaving his mouth. Trying to right his thoughts, he reached for one of her hands and took it between both his own.

“Forgive me,” Rolan blurted out. “I swear I’ve practiced this before, but—I can’t remember all the best bits just now.”

Tav shook her head at him as if punch-drunk. “Don’t sell yourself short,” she whispered hoarsely.

A nervous bark of laughter escaped him. “Have you ever known me to be burdened with an excess of humility?”

Despite the electricity now swirling between them, the corners of Tav’s mouth twitched upward. “Point taken.”

Rolan used the moment to gather himself. His tongue suddenly felt two sizes too large, and he swallowed with effort against his dry mouth.

“You’ve always done so much for me. From the first moment…every moment. You’re the reason why I have Cal and Lia, why I have everything—” Rolan’s eyes left her only for a moment to pass up over the great spire of the Tower above them.

From his periphery, Tav opened her mouth to protest.

“Please listen,” Rolan begged her before she could speak. He wished he’d thought this through even a little; his knee was already starting to ache against the stone, but he pushed through the discomfort.

Tav’s figure froze still in response as she watched him. Only her hand shook slightly between his palms.

“You must know what you mean to me,” Rolan murmured. “You’ve given me so much more than I deserve. You’ve loved me more than anyone…better than anyone. But—” He drew her hand a bit closer to his chest. “But I’m afraid there’s one more thing I have to ask you for.”

Tav’s lips were parted in anticipation as she hung on his words. She stood so motionless it was like kneeling at the foot of a beautiful statue. Only her wide eyes moved continuously over his face, and Rolan felt he could lose himself in them completely if he gazed too long.

“Let me give you more,” he asked simply. “Let me give you everything.”

“You—you damn wizard—”

As she broke her silence, Tav’s expression was flickering somewhere between amusement and tears. She was shaking her head at him, moisture pricking at the corners of her eyes. “If you don’t say it plain in the next—”

“Marry me.”

Though they stood under open sky, the two words seemed to echo with deafening force against his own ears. The question hung like a tangible physical thing, reverberating painfully in the narrow space between their bodies. Rolan could only grip her hand like a lifeline and wait for her to say something—anything.

Finally, Tav burst out into a laugh.

Or was it was a sob?

It was some strange combination of both, a choked sound of relief rising in her throat even as Rolan watched liquid suddenly spill and roll down each of her cheeks. Before he knew what was happening, Tav had also dropped to her knees in front of him.

“What are you doing?” Whatever responses Rolan had anticipated, this was one he didn’t plan for. He could only freeze and watch her cry and wait for things to make sense again.

“I don’t know,” Tav hiccoughed through the rapid tears that were streaming down her face now. Her lips trembled as her hands found his shoulders, clutching two handfuls of his robes. “I d-don’t know,” she repeated. “But I want you, Rolan.”

He had just enough hope to take that as a yes.

Rolan folded Tav’s body into his own with near crushing force. He was now overwhelmingly grateful for their absurd position kneeling together on the cold stone of the balcony. It was unthinkable to have her anywhere but in his arms right now.

“Yes, by the way—” Tav’s voice was muffled against his shoulder, but her chest shook against him with unmistakable laughter now.

“I had plans,” Rolan answered against her hair, half to himself. “None of this is right, hells, I swear I had so many plans—”

“Hold on,” Tav replied in a trembling laugh. She pulled away gently, just enough to notch one hand under Rolan’s ear. Her face radiated joy despite the damp skin on her cheeks. “Rolan, what on earth could be wrong right now?”

Everything, he wanted to groan out. But he bit the word back.

Instead, Rolan ducked his head to fumble with the drawstrings of the leather bag fastened to his belt. Tav’s fingers dropped from his jaw as she watched on in silent curiosity.

He shook the open bag over his hand. With a tiny clink, two rings poured from it and out onto Rolan’s outstretched palm. Even on a moonless night, the metal seemed to glow from within with a silver-blue fire.

“Mithril,” Tav breathed in pure delight.

The observation was so unexpected, yet so thoroughly Tav, that Rolan let out a choked laugh.

She touched fingers to her lips. “How long have—when did you—?”

“The week you moved in,” Rolan answered. The way her eyes flicked up to his in pure adoration made Rolan’s heart swell in his chest, but he continued. “That’s when I gave Dammon the commission. Of course it took months to find a vein of it down in the Underdark, I nearly went mad, you have no i—”

The words were stopped up as Tav’s lips collided against his. Rolan’s fist closed over the twin metal bands just as his hand was trapped between their chests.

She kissed him so long and so hard that Rolan gasped for air a bit when she broke away.

“Do you like it?” Rolan asked, needing her answer more than his lungs needed air.

“You’re kidding me.” Tav blinked at him. “Rolan, if you don’t put that thing on my finger this fucking minute, I swear I might have to reconsider.”

He wasn’t about to chance it. Rolan slipped the band onto the finger of her outstretched hand without hesitation; it fit her perfectly. She followed suit, her hand shaking slightly with excitement as the ring slid down to his knuckle.

For a moment they just held opposite hands out beside each other in quiet admiration. Then Rolan linked his fingers with hers, pulling their palms together.

He supposed the rings were supposed to come after the vows, not before—but the sight of them on their interlocked fingers was too perfect to be wrong.

A moment later they helped each other back to their feet, both laughing at their stiff knees and the pins-and-needles in their legs.

Rolan felt giddy as a youth. He couldn't stop kissing her; his arms circled her firmly into him, his tail looping around and over her hips in a caress. As Rolan watched the pure happiness radiating from Tav’s face, his heart was the lightest it had ever been.

“Now what?” He asked eventually.

Tav sighed with contentment in his arms. “Whatever you want.”

“I want to take you to bed,” Rolan answered without hesitation. Words had grown tiresome; he could think of no better way to demonstrate exactly the strength of his feelings for her right now.

In response, she separated to tug his hand with both of hers back under the doorway.

“Then we’d better go,” she said, walking backwards so she could flash him a coy smile. “Because I want my fiancé to tell me about all those ways he didn't just propose.”

#rolan x tav #tav x rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #fem unnamed tav #sfw #in which tav holds rolan's face in her hands approx. 29 times #and rolan misunderstands everything #they are a mes #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fic #bg3 tieflings

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honeybeebard · 6 months

Text

Helping You Remember (Enver Gortash x DarkUrge!Tav)

Summary// Ever since the crash Tav had been stripped of her memories, with nothing but her name and this violent urge inside her body wreaking havoc with every step she took. It was no small feat to control it, or at least tame it, and just when she thought she had gotten it under control a new foe, or an old ally, comes to remind her where she came from.

(I didn’t expect my first fic in the BG3 fandom to be about Gortash. In fact, I have several half-written projects of other characters but for whatever reason this man has recently taken a hold of me and I’m afraid I’ve sunk too deep. This was originally going to be a one-shot but it’s taken on a life of its own and will now be a multi-chapter!

This first chapter is heavy on angst but the next chapter will be better, I promise! I just imagine this is how your companions would react to the news as well as how Gortash gets his foot in the door of reclaiming you. I hope you like it! I normally write for ACOTAR so this was so much fun!) WARNINGS: Heavy angst, Mentions of past Dark Urge actions

It had been a long, painful journey to get to Baldur’s Gate but Tav had made it. Her companions had made it. Everyone was alive and mostly well, save for the tadpole in their brains, the end of the world, and the recent discovery of Tav’s family history. As they made their way to Wrym’s Rock Fortress it was the only thing her mind could focus on. Astarion, Karlach, and Wyll were all too happy to chat about being back but she couldn’t stop thinking about what she was.

Bhaalspawn.

Parents throughout Baldur’s Gate told stories of her kind to warn their children of the dangers of the world. She felt all the sins of her kin crawling up her back, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze in fear that they would see her for who she was. A monster. It didn’t matter how hard she fought the Urge inside her… her fate seemed to be already written in the stars. How could she save herself from this? She hadn’t even realized they had made it to the doors of the fortress until Astarion gently nudged her arm, giving her a concerned look as she was torn from her thoughts. “Are you alright, darling? You’re looking a bit clammy.” His voice was smooth but she could see the worry in his eyes. He was the first one she had told when she found out, seeking comfort in his arms just as he had done back in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. They didn’t have an official title to whatever their relationship was, sometimes friends and other times lovers, but they were each other’s closest confidants. He understood her better than herself sometimes and he had assured her that whatever she was facing, he would be there to help. So it pained her to lie through her teeth as she mumbled, “Fine. Let’s just get this over with. Hopefully, we can kill two birds with one stone.” Astarion knew she was lying but didn’t press her further, his shoulders tensing slightly as he gave a curt nod and entered the building with the others. The air was buzzing with excitement as everyone awaited the coronation of Lord Gortash. His posters were everywhere, most people hailing him as a hero, but from what she had heard from Karlach he was anything but that. And especially after discovering him at Moonrise, netherstone in the gauntlet decorating his hand, she only felt that anger within her rise more at the ignorance of the city. There was something else too, like a flash of nostalgia, but it flitted from her mind before she could grasp it. Tav shook her head as they made their way up the stairs, preparing for anything as they arrived at the grand hall.

Rows of seats lined the sides as a dark red carpet decorated the ground, leading all the way up to where Duke Ravengard and Gortash stood. Wyll visibly bristled at the sight of his father, his hand steady on the edge of his blade while Karlach slowly began to grow hotter and hotter at the sight of her former friend.

“I can practically taste his blood from here.” Karlach seethed, her fists clenching. Astarion gave Tav a worrying look, wondering if now, underneath the watchful gaze of multiple Flaming Fists and the Steel Watch, was the right time to pick a fight.

Tav gave him a reassuring smile, turning to Karlach with a solemn expression. “I know you want nothing more than to rip his heart out but here might not be the best place to do it. Let’s hear him out first.” She speaks slowly, hoping to calm the tiefling.

“Hear him out? He speaks nothing but lies! There is nothing he could say that could be of use to us.” Karlach snarls, turning her heated eyes to her and frowning.

“Just trust me on this, okay?” Tav pleaded. “I promise that you will be the first one to rip him limb from limb.”

She seemed to calm slightly at Tav’s reassurance, her flames dulling as she nodded once. “I’ll hold you to that, soldier.” Karlach says, following in step as the four of them begin to walk up the aisle.

Gortash is the first to spot them, his lips turning up in a smile as he spies Karlach first. “My eyes must be deceiving me! Karlach, my dear girl, come and be welcome.” His voice was dripping with arrogance, his arms spread wide in greeting.

“I’m not your dear anything!” Karlach snaps, her hand immediately falling to her weapon. However, just as Tav tries to step in front of them, his dark eyes turn to her and widen in surprise.

“And with you, my, why it’s my favorite bhaalspawn!” He grins as he comes closer to Tav, eyeing her up and down. “I never thought I would see you again either.”

“Wait, you know each other?” Karlach frowns, turning to look at Tav with betrayal in her eyes.

“I swear I have no memory of him Karlach. I would’ve told you.” She stresses, holding up her hands in innocence while shaking her head rapidly.

“Oh, I’d forgotten,” Gortash says smugly, chuckling to himself. “Your memories are quite lost aren’t they? Orin told me she’d made a fool of you. And to think you two have traveled together all this time and she hadn’t the faintest idea that you were one of my nearest and dearest.”

This time it was Astarion who spoke, his eyes hard as his jaw clenched. “What do you mean nearest and dearest?” There was a sense of urgency under his tone, something that Tav felt as well as she tried desperately to remember what Gortash already knew.

The dark-haired Lord smirked, taking a deep breath as he turned back to Tav and began to tell fill in the missing puzzle pieces of her memory. “You and I initiated this plot. No one could stand against the Dead Three so, after obtaining the crown, enslaving the brain, and creating a false God to rule the masses, there was little to stand in our way.”

Tav stumbled back a step, her head throbbing and pulse racing. No, she couldn’t have. She couldn’t have formed this plot, couldn’t have worked with Gortash. It wasn’t who she was. Was it?

“No. I would never.” She whispered, her eyes full of anger while Gortash ignored her and carried on weaving the tale.

“In Bhaal’s name, you set your bloody dagger to cause panic in the streets, killing in the Absolute’s name,” He smiled again as if recalling a fond memory. It made her want to vomit. “It was all going well until you had vanished, Orin claiming to be the new voice of Bhaal and taking over. She, unlike you, couldn’t control herself. She made a mess of things.”

Her stomach lurched, her knees buckling as bits and pieces of her past flashed through her mind. The blood, the screams, the wicked smile of her reflection as she all but bathed in the slain bodies of the innocent. Astarion noticed her trembling, reaching out to steady her as she tried to block out everything.

“Have you gone soft?” Gortash asked as he stepped closer to Tav, examining her guilt filled gaze with a disappointed look. “I find that hard to believe. One’s true nature will always rise to the top.”

“That is not my true nature.” She hissed through gritted teeth, rage heating her blood as she pushed out of Astarion’s grasp and walked towards the man before her. “Take it back. Tell me you’re lying.”

“I know you know the truth, Tav.” He coos as if talking to a startled babe. “I can see it in your eyes. That Urge deep within you, clawing at its cage to be unleashed. We had something great, are something great, until you were taken. I tolerated Orin, tolerated Ketheric, but I liked you. We can still finish this together.”

As he finishes his sentence one of his hands comes up to rest on her arm, an intimate gesture that sends feelings of disgust and warmth through her body. She hated this, hated him, hated how little control she felt. Once again she felt a battle in her body between the past and the present.

“Don’t touch me.” Tav growls, pulling away from him as if she had been burned. “I want nothing to do with you, with this plot. If anything this has only solidified my plans to kill you.”

She could feel Karlach’s approval from behind her, could feel her own body tensing for a fight only to falter when Gortash barked out a harsh laugh.

“Oh, my dear bhaalspawn, you have no choice.” His eyes were suddenly hard and his tone like ice as he gestured around him. “The quakes are a clear warning. Without all three netherstones ruling the brain, it will break free and complete the Grand Design. Your choices are to join me and rule or subject this entire city, yourself and companions included, to becoming illithids.”

All of her companions shifted uneasily, looking at Tav for guidance. She tried to run through all the scenarios, looking for an out that didn’t include digging herself further into her past self, but the choices remained the same.

“Together though,” Gortash straightens, giving her a charming smile. “Together we can control the brain. Renew our old partnership.”

“What kind of partnership?” Tav asked cautiously, hating how weak she sounded. Astarion cleared his throat beside her, pleading with her not to do this, but she ignored him. If she was going to find another way out of this she at least needed to get all angles of the problem…and that started with hearing Gortash’s bargain.

“Let’s discuss it somewhere more private, hm? Away from the prying eyes of both nobles and…your group.” He looked behind her distastefully. “Meet me in my office after the ceremony. Alone.”

And before she can say another word he struts back to the middle of the room, letting the Duke continue with the blasphemous ceremony. Tav immediately motions for her friends to follow her towards the back, ignoring the words of Wyll’s father as she finally takes a moment to breathe.

“You can’t possibly be considering partnering with him.” Astarion huffs. “Please tell me you aren’t that stupid.”

“Look at what he’s done to this city, to my father,” Wyll adds, crossing his arms. “An alliance with Gortash is like asking to be stabbed in the back. He cannot be trusted.” “You’re damn right he can’t be trusted!” Karlach fumes, gnashing her teeth together. “That man is worse than a devil, Tav! He’s just trying to get in your head!”

“Enough!” Tav snapped, rubbing her temples as the pounding returned. Everyone’s opinions, including Gortash’s, were starting to make her head spin. “I know this is…a lot. I can’t process it all myself-”

“What, that you and Gortash created this entire cult, this entire problem that is threatening the lives of millions of people?” Karlach’s voice was rising with each word, her flames growing by the second. “I knew you were a bhaalspawn but Bhaal’s chosen? You are half the bloody reason we are here in the first place!”

“Karlach-” Wyll tries to intervene but she brushes him off, stalking towards Tav and jamming a red hot finger in her chest.

“No, don’t Karlach me.” She snarls, glaring down at her. “Did you not hear what she has done? The acts she committed in Bhaal’s name? Amnesia or not, you all have to see how dangerous she is.”

“I’m not!” Tav protested, tears pricking her eyes as she felt their gazes on her. It was her worst fear realized. “I’m not a monster, I don’t remember doing any of those things. I would never…”

“And yet here you are, ready to make nice with the viper.” Karlach spits, standing to her full height while regarding her with revulsion. “I need time to think.”

Before Tav can say anything or reach out to plead for forgiveness, she storms off back to the entrance. Wyll looks between the two of them, his eyes full of sadness before he simply shakes his head and follows Karlach. The only one left is Astarion who is staring at her with an unreadable expression.

“Star…” She whispers, throat tight as she tries to reach for him only to physically recoil when he moves away from her hand. It wasn’t much, just a slight sway to the side, but it was enough to make the knife in her gut twist deeper. “Please.”

“I…I need a moment.” He murmurs, bowing his head before following the same path as her companions. Tav can’t stop herself from sinking to the floor, her soul aching as she brings her knees to her chest and cries. She doesn’t care that she’s in a room full of nobles, doesn’t care that everyone is watching her finally break, she just doesn’t care anymore.

Her friends, her entire world ever since escaping that damned nautiloid, had abandoned her. They had found out who she had been and had left her here, alone. Tav wanted to hate them, wanted to curse them, and never see them again, but could she blame them?

She was part of the reason this was all happening in the first place. She had caused all this pain, all this death, in the name of her father. Even if she didn’t remember it that didn’t absolve her of the guilt. If roles were reversed, she would probably question her relationship with the person as well.

“It’s all my fault.” She whispers, pressing her palms against her eyes harshly. The tears were hot as they ran down her cheeks, her shoulders shaking. Tav was so caught up in her emotions she didn’t hear the footsteps approaching her.

It wasn’t until she felt cold, metal claws tip her chin up that she finally came to her senses, blinking up at the man who had just revealed all her immoral acts as if they were nothing.

“My poor little bhaalspawn,” He purred, using his other hand to pull her up to stand. “All alone again.”

Tav sniffled, feeling vulnerable as he wiped a tear away with his thumb. Her entire body felt numb as he pulled her into his arms, shushing her with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Come.” He ordered. “Let me save you once more.”

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flymmsy · 7 months

Text

Bad Taste in Clothes

■■ Pairing: Enver Gortash/The Dark Urge ■■ Genre: smut (Explicit) ■■ Word Count: 4.7k ■■ Tags: EXPLICIT SMUT, durge-typical mentions of violence, rough sex, dom/sub, switchy vibes but mostly dom gortash when it comes to the sex, the gauntlet stays on, mentions of blood, striptease, FEELINGS, dirty talk, choking, spanking, fingers in mouth, angst, brief ethical non-monogamy, vaginal sex, wine shower, blowjobs, non-con mention/threat but not really, brief suicidal thoughts. ■■ Author's Note: This was inspired by this masterpiece by zeppersart. For reference, in this piece Durge is AFAB, uses she/her pronouns, and her name is Lyra. Race is left ambiguous. ■■ Read it on AO3

“Are you going to come out now?” He ran a hand through his hair as he made his way into the center of the sitting room, setting the wine bottle upon a nearby table. When she did not immediately respond, he gave a huff of annoyance, “I’m hardly in the mood for games this evening.” “Shame,” Lyra took the moment to pounce, stepping from the shadows to kick him square in the chest, sending the lord tumbling backwards into a high-backed chair, “I have so much fun playing with you.” Pain and genuine anger flickered across his face before he looked up at her, able to see her for the first time that evening. His face immediately smoothed into something much closer to hunger. “You’re wearing the dress I sent.”

Enver Gortash had the worst taste in clothes, as far as Lyra was concerned. Her nose scrunched up in disgust as she looked over the garment that he had sent along with her messenger. The color was fine – deep red that matched the grooves of blood flowing through the floor of her room – but the fabric? An extravagantly heavy cloth woven with glittering beads and adorned with gold embellishments. And the cut - she could feel the laced back squeeze into her ribcage just from looking at the thing. The dress was restrictive in every sense except for the neckline: long, tight sleeves running up to a sharp square front which would push her breasts forward, no doubt. She assumed this was meant to provide the perfect canvas for the ridiculously large ruby necklace that had accompanied the dress.

Certainly very Banite. He was throwing a party, he had told her one evening when they lay in his bed, exhausted from another of their increasingly frequent liaisons. He had asked if she would attend, and despite his best efforts, Lyra had heard the lilt of hope in his voice. Eager to choke the sentimentality down, Lyra had laughed, proclaiming that she couldn’t possibly attend such a lavish event as she did not have anything to wear that would be worthy of the grand occasion. She ran her fingers over a cut she had left earlier on his chest, hoping the matter had been deflected. She was unprepared when he had put his hand over her own, a triumphant smile spreading across his face as he insisted he would see to her needs.

She had tentatively agreed in the moment, but his choice revealed itself to be an atrocity. She threw the dress atop her bed and crossed the room to her desk, pulling out parchment and ink.

“Lord Gortash,” The letter began, Lyra scratching across the page. She had come to only use his title when she was angry or wanted something, or perhaps both.

Lord Gortash, I received your gift. I can safely say it is the most hideous thing I have ever laid eyes on. Does your god demand such gaudiness from all his followers? I will not be wearing this dress, and I will not be attending your party. In fact, it is truly such a horror that I am reconsidering our association. I will let you know my verdict, pray that it is favorable. -L

─────────

Annoyingly, she had not received any response to her letter. She had expected their usual dance – her sharp words eliciting a snarky retort from him, volleying until one of them won. The silence had been unnervingly deafening, and when the night of the party arrived without a letter from the tyrant, Lyra decided to take matters into her own hands.

She slipped into the dress, finding the fit snug but not as much of an imprisonment as she had expected. She wrapped a cloak around herself and left the temple, hastily making her way to her associate’s manor in the Upper City. It had been hours since the party had officially begun, but Lyra could still hear the revelry well underway as she approached.

It was, as always, too easy to slip past his guards and climb her way up to the balcony of his private chambers. What do you pay them for? She had once snapped, displeased with the quality of their services after she herself had found a would-be assailant lurking in his garden. He had waved her concerns off, coolly replying that his guards were perfectly adequate, she was just faster.

Though, she never did see the guards that had been on duty that day again.

She found the balcony door unlocked, undoubtedly a result of his exasperation with her constant lockpicking. She stashed her cloak behind a potted plant on the balcony and stepped into his sitting room. His chambers were not necessarily large, but just like everything else about Lord Enver Gortash, they were certainly lavish – all elegant rugs, fine silks, and expensive paintings. His domain consisted of four rooms: to the left of the sitting room was his study and to the right was his bedchamber, off of which resided the most indulgent washroom she had ever seen. At its center was an enormous bath, which the infuriating genius had somehow managed to supply with running water even this deep into the city. She had spent many nights in that bath, watching the water darken as blood ran off of her skin, sometimes even allowing strong hands to glide soft cloth over her body.

Lyra chided herself for enjoying the comfort, ripping herself from the memory. The Child of Bhaal did not need such things, she would be satisfied with bathing in the blood itself. And yet…

Footsteps, and then – a woman’s laughter? Lyra moved to conceal herself from a place in the study where she could keep watch as the doors to the sitting room swung open. A patriar, or so Lyra guessed from the woman’s extravagant dress, glided into the room and laughed again as she spun around to face the doorway. A moment later, Gortash entered and swiftly closed the doors behind him, turning to the patriar with a hungry look. It was one Lyra herself knew quite well – he was stalking his prey.

She watched as Gortash grabbed the hips of the patriar, maneuvering the woman up against the door in an instant. His mouth fiercely claimed that of his guest’s, burying the woman’s surprised gasp of ‘Lord Gortash!’ with his tongue. A sinking feeling hit Lyra in her stomach, but she was quick to smother it down. This was all fine, of course. Whatever existed between Gortash and herself, they had made it explicit that they indulged in other lovers. She knew it was a particularly useful tool for the tyrant in his negotiations.

Yet, as Lyra watched them grind into each other, she could not deny the sickening fire that churned inside her.

The blood rushing through her ears drowned out Gortash’s words to his companion as he stepped back and gestured for the woman to take a seat. He turned towards the study, and Lyra sank deeper into the shadows of the room. She eyed him as he crossed the threshold and headed for his wine cabinet, as Lyra expected he would – ever the gracious host.

She took the soft clink of his gauntlet around a bottle as her cue. In an instant, her knife was at his throat, her body pressed against his back, drinking in the way he tensed.

“Well what do we have here?” She whispered, lips fluttering over his ear, “a whore at work?”

She watched the smirk spread across the side of his race in recognition. His body notably relaxed, which elicited a small snarl from Lyra. He should not be relieved it was her, he should be terrified. She tightened her grip on the knife as she pressed it further into his neck. He tensed again, which brought a smile back to Lyra’s face.

“I didn’t think—” he began in an attempt to ease her displeasure.

“You often don’t.”

He gave a restrained laugh and Lyra watched his throat bob against her knife, “We both know that’s not true.”

Brilliant bastard. She hated him, hated how his words and his voice could be so disarming. She slid her free hand down his front, running her hand over his cock. She gripped it tightly, relishing the surprised huff that escaped his throat.

“Already hard for her? Are you really that easy, Lord Gortash?”

“Lyra,” he growled in warning.

“Get rid of her,” she pressed her knife in further to his throat, enough to cut this time, “Or I will.”

She released him, immediately stepping back into the shadows. He turned to look at her, but her superior stealth left him without purchase. Bottle in hand, he returned to the expectant patriar.

“Darling,” Lyra heard him begin, tone laced with false apology, “I’m afraid I forgot about an early meeting in the morning. We’ll have to continue this another time.”

“My lord-” the woman began in protest, but a gauntleted hand against her cheek and an easy smile assured her all would be well.

“I will make it up to you, I swear,” Gortash gently took the woman’s hand in his own, supplying her with the wine bottle he had selected, “please, enjoy this for me this evening.”

The patriar looked at him for a moment before pushing the bottle back to him, her fingers lingering on his chest. Lyra wondered what it would be like to slice those fingers off one by one, how pretty they would look.

“We’ll enjoy it together when you make it up to me,” the woman leaned forward to place a kiss to his lips, comparatively chaste to the one they shared against the door. Gortash smiled and gave a warm laugh in response. Lyra hated that laugh. It was his fake laugh, one he fabricated into a weapon to match his charm. His real laugh was something callous and echoing and beautiful.

“As you wish,” Gortash guided the woman to the door with a hand against the small of her back. He bade her a goodnight and shut the door in her wake. Still concealed, Lyra moved from the study back into the sitting room, watching as Gortash listened to the patriar’s footsteps recede. After a moment, he turned and spoke to the air.

“Shame,” Lyra took the moment to pounce, stepping from the shadows to kick him square in the chest, sending the lord tumbling backwards into a high-backed chair, “I have so much fun playing with you.”

Pain and genuine anger flickered across his face before he looked up at her, able to see her for the first time that evening. His face immediately smoothed into something much closer to hunger.

“You’re wearing the dress I sent,” a pleased hum escaped his throat as he leaned forward in the chair, moving to stand.

“Stay,” Lyra halted him with a glare. A silent battle took place between the two, as it so often did, both parties overly proud and wielding near-indomitable will. Finally, Gortash relinquished out of curiosity, sinking further into the chair.

“Good boy,” Lyra taunted, and Gortash’s glare was sharp in response. He hated being played with, or so he claimed. Lyra knew how hard his cock became when she riled him up, and she intended to have him particularly aggravated this evening.

She turned her back to him and began cutting the laces on the back of her dress one by one with the knife she had held to his throat earlier. When they had all been sliced open, she set the knife on the nearby table next to the discarded wine bottle. She swayed her hips, encouraging the dress to languidly slide off of her body, slowly revealing the expanse of her back and her ass covered only in her smallclothes, before finally cascading down her legs to pool at her feet.

She stepped back to move out of the dress, bending over to pick up the fabric. Glancing over her shoulder, she caught Gortash’s eyes glued to her ass, his mouth open slightly in heavy, quick breaths. She smirked as she tossed the dress behind her to land on him before turning her head back forward, laughing as she heard his growl and the flutter of fabric as he threw it once again to the floor. Any annoyance he may have had melted when she immediately slipped her fingers inside the band of her smallclothes, pulling them over her hips ever so slightly but not fully revealing herself. Not yet.

“Touch yourself,” she commanded, still playing with the fabric at her hips. She felt the air electrify, immediately filling with tension as her audience fought between seeking release and obeying the command of another. She sweetened the deal, bending over once again to remove her smallclothes and fully reveal her ass to him. She swayed her hips for a moment, bending even further forward to flash her cunt, which was already beginning to glisten.

“Lyra-“ he delivered his best attempt at a warning, though it was heavily marred by the strain in his voice.

“Touch. Yourself.” She commanded again, straightening up and looking back over her shoulder. This time, he obeyed, slipping a hand under his waistband. She watched just long enough to see his cock come free before turning forward again, satisfied. Her hands came up to tangle in her hair, slowly undoing the bun atop her head before it gave way to a beautiful waterfall.

Finally, she turned to face him.

Gortash was a man destroyed. He had sunk even further into the chair, hair a wreck from sliding against the back. His eyes were dark, and his mouth still hung open in heavy pants that matched the rapid rise and fall of his hair-dusted chest, even more exposed now from the loosened laces of his shirt. One hand fiercely gripped the arm of the chair, while his other gauntleted hand wrapped tightly around his heavy, thick cock. He stroked himself slowly, with as much restraint as possible, but his glistening tip betrayed his urgent need.

Lyra wanted to sink to her knees before him, to take him in her mouth and swirl her tongue over every last drop of that need. She wanted to let him fill her and fuck her throat raw, wanted to be buried against the trail of hair on his stomach while she gagged around his cock, her nails digging crescents into his hips as her vision darkened. She wanted to suck at his heavy sack and service every inch of him – to run her tongue along his shaft, kiss up his stomach, splay her fingers across that wonderful chest. Beautiful. He was absolutely beautiful, and she wanted to be completely lost in those deep, black eyes.

His eyes. She snapped out of her fantasy when she realized she had been staring – completely lost in his gaze. It was crushingly intimate, holding his stare while he worked himself, her body laid completely bare to him, both of them imagining what was to come. Too intimate, and her fantasies of submission and admiration had Lyra scrambling for a moment. She sought escape, breaking their eye contact to turn her head to the table next to her, where her knife still rested next to the wine bottle.

Seeking to distract herself, and perhaps ease her nerves, she swiftly opened the wine bottle with her knife and brought the rim to her lips, drinking deeply. Her eyes flashed back to Gortash, who still watched her, entranced. She smirked, a delicious thought swimming into her mind as she allowed some wine to spill from her mouth, staining her neck as the liquid ran towards her breasts. Enjoying the sensation, she tilted the bottle further, spilling more down her body. A lewd moan escaped the lord’s lips as her eyes fluttered shut.

The wine was warm and sticky, and it was easy to imagine that it was his blood. She reveled in the image of her skin streaking red with him. She wanted to be stained by him, to empty his veins and douse herself in his life. She released the bottle without thinking and it fell to the floor with a shatter. Unphased, she began running her hands all over her body, one smoothly relishing the liquid while the other dragged the tip of her knife over her skin. She would cut him and bleed him and hold him close, allowing him to empty himself onto her. She would plunge her knife into her own body, opening it wide so that he may spill inside. They would be closer than any mortals could ever be, drinking from each other to forever become one before the darkness consumed them eternally.

She gasped as her knife cut into her skin just below her collarbone, the sensation bringing her back to reality. A bolt of panic momentarily shot through her as she snapped her eyes open in search of the lord, fearful that her dreaded daydream may have been all too real. She met his stare, but instead of relief, she was filled with surprise. His face was soft, brows lightly furrowed, eyes wide and excruciatingly sincere. He gazed at her in absolute reverence.

And then, he did something truly wretched and unforgivable.

“Lyra,” he called her name like a prayer.

She was on him in an instant. She straddled him, grinding her cunt against the length of his cock as their mouths met in a desperately furious kiss, hoping the violence of it could drown their worship of each other. His hands came to rest on her thighs, holding her in place as if he was scared she would run away. He had no idea how completely she belonged to him in that moment, and for once, she did not care if she was answering his prayer with her own or if she was smothering his cry, the gods could reprimand her another day.

She sank her knife into the back of the chair just above his head, the sound of slicing fabric grabbing his attention and momentarily halting their kiss. Her hands floated down to gently cup his face as she whispered softly against his lips.

“Make it hurt.”

And he did. His gauntlets immediately dug into her as his mouth crashed back onto hers, forcing his way inside and claiming her with his tongue. He bit at her lip as she felt the tips of his talons break her skin, the delicious sensation running down her thighs in his wake. She frowned as the pressure of one hand disappeared, only to moan against him when she felt him line himself up with her entrance.

He wasted no time plunging his cock inside her, both of them already wet with need. He set a brutal pace, using his grip on her thighs to bounce her atop him, taking all of him again and again. She gasped each time he bottomed out, indulging in the delicious drag of his head against her walls.

His mouth dipped to latch onto her neck, sucking the tender skin underneath her jaw until it was sore. The rivers of wine that still streaked down her body led him lower, his tongue hungrily following their path until he stopped at her collarbone where she had cut herself. Here, he flattened his tongue further and lapped at the cut savagely, drinking in the heady mix of blood and wine. She moaned at the sensation and felt a satisfied growl leave him in response.

“You sound like a whore,” his low, rumbling voice sent vibrations across her collarbone. She breathed in sharply to collect herself, opening her mouth to quip back at him.

Her words died in her throat, replaced by a choked cry as one of his hands came harshly down on her ass. His other hand grasped the back of her neck, forcefully holding her in place as he brought them back face-to-face. His mouth hovered just in front of her own.

“You sound like a whore,” he repeated as he slapped her ass again, the sound echoing in the room, “so I’ll fuck you like one.”

She whimpered and strained against his grasp in an attempt to kiss him again, which only earned her another stinging strike. Another cry left her mouth, and she noticed his parted lips eager to drink in her sounds, collecting them after their journey across the small gap between their bodies.

She gasped into his mouth as another slap fell across her ass, and she could feel welts rising. She brought her hands to rest atop his chest for balance against the force of his strikes, which he allowed. Her fingers snaked through the loose laces of his shirt, brushing against the hair on his solid chest. She wanted his shirt off, wanted to drag her nails across his chest and feel him arch into her touch.

She whined to communicate her need, but he swiftly turned it into another cry with one last slap against her ass. She felt his fingers curl into her raw skin as he fucked up into her with renewed vigor. Her own hands fisted into balls, grasping at his shirt. He chuckled breathlessly as the hand on the back of her neck came to roughly grab her jaw.

“Does my whore need something?” he taunted as he continued his thrusts. She whimpered as she further tightened her firsts around the fabric of his shirt.

“Have you been struck dumb? Use your words,” he cruelly commanded with a shake of her jaw, but his own pace betrayed him, hips beginning to stutter. A smirk spread across Lyra’s face faster than he could react.

“I didn’t think you’d finish so quickly, my lord,” she whispered dangerously. A thrill sparked within her when his hand left her jaw to slap her across her face, eliciting exactly the response she wanted.

In an instant, he lifted her off his cock and shoved her to the ground, her head hitting the floor with a blissful crack that turned her vision dark for a moment.

“Ungrateful beast,” his voice was harsh, but when her eyes flickered back to him, he was hastily removing his clothes until all that remained was his gauntlet. He was quick to lean over her, that same gauntleted hand wrapping around her throat and squeezing.

“You scorn my invitation and then disrupt my evening,” he sneered, “You came here tonight like a pathetic bitch in heat, desperately crawling for my cock. So, you will take what I give you, and you will be thankful. Do you understand?”

She smiled smugly, and he squeezed harder. Instinctively, both of her hands came to wrap around his wrist.

“Continue this, go right ahead,” he learned in to speak against her ear, “I’ll keep squeezing until you go limp. You’ll be much more pleasant then.”

The idea of letting Enver Gortash drain the life from her set her ablaze. He so rarely indulged his wrath nowadays, preferring to scheme and trap and lead his enemies to their untimely demise. More befitting of a lord, he had explained once. But his hands were far from clean - strong and rough from a lifetime that had been at odds with his current station, decorated with scars from his inventions. Lyra had known him long enough to have the privilege of witnessing a few rare, cherished moments where he had snapped, someone having elicited enough of his ire to make him dirty his own hands with pleasure.

She wished he would now. He was the only person in the world she trusted to destroy her. In truth, Lyra was exhausted from a lifetime of being wielded as her father’s weapon, and her twisted heart found solace in the fantasy of release. She yearned for the lord to end her before she had to end him.

But today was not that day.

She rolled her hips up into him in a sign of compliance, unable to speak due to the pressure on her neck. He smirked.

“There now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he slid his hand from her neck to trail down her body. Both hands came to her legs, slowly spreading her apart to allow him to drink in the sight of her cunt.

He let out a shaky breath as his cock twitched. He glided himself through her folds once, twice, before finally sinking back into her, leaning over to reclaim her lips with his own. Their tongues danced with each other, matching the roll of his hips as their joining became increasingly more frantic.

“Hells,” he broke their kiss with a snarl, burying his face in her neck as he picked up his pace. She raked her nails down his back and hiked her legs up higher, allowing him to sink even deeper and ripping an appreciative groan from his throat.

“That’s my woman,” he growled, biting and sucking at her pulse. The intimate, possessive praise made her shudder, her mind threatening to go white. One of her hands ran down to grab his ass as he pounded into her, silently begging him to go harder, to claim her.

The new angle was heavenly, repeatedly making him hit the sweet spot inside her, his balls slapping against her ass. She was smothered under his weight as he drilled into her, his hand coming back up to shove two fingers into her mouth. She sucked on them happily, salivating at the thought of biting them off and drawing sweet screams from his lips.

No – no. She did not want him to scream. In truth, she did not want to hurt him at all, and wasn’t that just the beginning and end of everything? Her Urge was lulled by the rock of his body, and her eyes closed as she allowed herself sanctuary in the only place she could ever forget herself.

Here, she was not a weapon. Here, underneath him, she was free to indulge in the pleasures of life, not death. The way his breath quickened, the aching throb of her heightened pulse, the rough drag of his chest against her own. His hot breath on her neck, the stretch of her cunt around his cock, his soft sounds of pleasure against her skin as he sought his release.

Gods be damned, she was his.

He must have sensed her tightening coil, pulling his fingers from her mouth and bringing them to rub firm circles against her clit. She gasped, body arching into his as her hand left his ass to tangle in his hair. He hissed as she tightened her grasp, clinging to him for purchase as her body tightened in ecstasy.

She trembled, and she distantly heard him curse as he fucked her through her climax. She felt him raise himself up on his arms just enough to look at her as his hips began to falter. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his, raw and desperate. Perhaps foolishly, she allowed herself to give him a moment of softness, sliding her hand down from his hair to caress his cheek.

“Enver.”

His forehead met her own as he came with a gasp, spilling into her cunt. He shuddered over her, powerful aftershocks rocking them both. In his own betrayal of intimacy, he pressed a kiss to her forehead before catching himself, moving to capture her lips in a sloppy kiss. He collapsed on top of her, spent, and moved to bury his face into her neck again as their breathing slowly regulated.

Lyra stared at the ceiling as she traced circles against his back, a new pang settling deep within her. She wanted to guide his hands as he cracked her chest open and let him tear out her heart. It was already his, and it would destroy her.

She was torn from her thoughts by the tickle of words against her skin, pulling a surprised laugh from her.

“What?” she angled her head down to speak to the menace at her throat. She could feel his smug smile before she saw it as he lifted himself back up on his arms, pausing to first brush a strand of hair from her face.

“I said, I knew you’d look good in that dress.”

#enver gortash #the dark urge #bg3 #durge #durgetash #fic #smut #flymmsy writes #flymmsy writes durgetash

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banes-favourite · 4 months

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Wondering how many times gortash has injured himself while tinkering and just generally doing artificer things. Like, it's canonical that Gond, the god of inventions and stuff, limits how many people have access to runepowder(which is basically gunpowder) because artificers and alchemists kept blowing themselves up while messing with it. And gortash is even more insane and unhinged than most people are

Just imagine him accidentally exploding something and his guards come running to make sure he's okay only to see him covered in soot and his hair all messed up.

Maybe durge has given him inspiration for various things so he's created or attempted to create terrifying contraptions that just generally don't seem safe to even be in the room with

I had no idea Gond did that!! Makes sense tho, otherwise it's basically handing out atomic bombs like candy.

But my god is Gortash playing inventor sooo underrated. I know his politician persona is popular as it's seen more, but man's probably gets carried away and spends days in his workshop, tinkering and creating and getting his hands dirty. He has burly arms purely from lifting steels like they're dumbells. His nails are black not cause he paints them, it's just oil from his machines. I genuinely see it as the only time he gets to decompress and let his mind really wander, to the point he needs to be reminded to do basic survival tasks. And yeah, his hands are super calloused and scratched from tinkering days on end, but that's what his gauntlets are for. Also the image of him all blown up like Junkrat from overwatch is so fucking funny someone draw that pls

Also, his ideas?? Yeah dude they're absolutely insane. This is the guy that thought of putting brains in giant robots and gave them giant swords. He's created bombs, contraptions, complicated traps, and the most torturous machines, inspired by Durge ofc. And yeah, most of them fail, but the ones that do succeed are absolutely vicious. He cuts people open every other day. He pulls people limb from limb just to see how much they last. I truly think he sees people as machines, and getting to watch how they work up close is genuinely fascinating to him.

#thanks for the funny visual 🙏#anon #asks #bg3 #gortash #enver gortash #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate #bg3 gortash #durgetash

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laubritter2 · 4 months

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what kinks do you think gortash has?

We literally know nothing about his preferences in game, so, my headcanon is that he's into being dominated and/or used… this can take on so many forms. (If that wasn't showing already LOL)... Also a relevant post to this fantasy, yea yea. It's like an outlet for him.

I switch between the fantasy that he's already kind of a slut and has some "trustworthy" Banites he orders around when he feels like it (and they humiliate and fuck him)... so like, gang bang and objectification. This is often just for drawing out some porn.

OR a very strong other idea and that is that he does not seek out sex that much on his own (actually more align with his canon character to me), and those activities come from Durge taking on the active role. But Gortash still very much enjoys it when it happens (I can dream)... Like an opportunity presented to him. Aw it's a bit silly but I love the idea of Gortash not wanting to "ask" Durge for those sessions (like he's above those desires, and he has "no time for such things" lol), and sometimes Durge likes to tease him and it makes Gortash sulky and aggravated. But then he focuses on his grand plans anyway. It's a bit of a corruption fantasy, like the self controlled, strong willed Archduke being put into such submissive positions, and also liking it.

In this dynamic, I think Gortash enjoys, hehe, any kind of restraint. So Bondage, or more artistic Shibari, shackles, mouth gags,... being vulnerable and at Durge's mercy. Also the humiliation aspect if he's put into shameful positions hehe, or when he drools all over himself... Wearing a collar, being led around on all his fours... being stepped on.

Gortash made to "serve" Durge, completely naked, he has to bring him wine, or little snacks, and Durge feeds him from his hand.

Getting SPIT on. Cum on his body. I'm also thinking about watersports, like Durge giving him a shower, yea I see that with him. More advanced, he's then ordered to swallow it. Oh it's so degrading for him.

A little bit of whipping and slapping, SPANKING. But I don't see him liking straight up physical pain or that he's a real masochist (like cutting or such things, or burning). Maybe that would actually trigger some bad memories from the past. I mean he got straight up beaten and the scars are very likely from this time. I think he doesn't like anything that leaves scars.

With one exception, after some time, Durge gave him nipple piercings. Whenever Gortash brushes against something or feels them, he has to think about Durge... and of course, he also likes that... and they look so hot on him. But he could take them out anytime.

Sometimes Durge makes him wear Shibari rope, or leather gear, underneath his normal clothing hehe and he feels it when he moves and no one can find out.. he's so pathetic and horny and he has to wait for Durge to release him. Sometimes also a butt plug.

I can picture Gortash also liking metal. Like the material and the feeling of it (cold and hard). When he wears shackles with a heavy chain, or Durge could make him kiss or lick a sword/weapon :).

Durge wearing armor and he strokes Gortash's naked body with his gauntlets (outer parts) and pressing against him, holding him in place... Durge using his cane. His collar is also made of metal.

Alright that's about it for now....

#enver gortash #baldur's gate 3 #reply

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baldursgate3gayz · 4 months

Text

Soap pt.2 (NSFW and Dub-Con) (Gortash x M!Trans Named Durge)

Trigger warning: NSFW and Dub-Con due to injury

NSFW: Vaginal Fingering

Word Count: 2425

The walk from Gortash’s office to the bathroom was a blur to the Bhaalspawn. He didn’t even have the energy to spy around the man’s house. Before this night, Thanatos wasn’t allowed anywhere but the Banite’s office, to avoid tracking in ‘viscera’ as Gortash claimed. If the half drow had been more coherent, he would’ve surveyed the entire area, checking for anything to use against the other man in case their partnership went sour. Instead, he mindlessly followed the taller man, feeling increasingly brainless with every step. The Banite didn’t even turn to check on him, evidently confident that the Bhaalspawn wouldn’t wander. Thanatos wasn’t even really aware that they had walked into a bathroom. He barely felt Gortash removing the robe from his body, and while he could see the man’s mouth moving, he couldn’t hear any of the words. The half drow felt like he was going to fall asleep on his feet, his vision becoming dark and his head beginning to sway.

Abruptly, he was lifted up and pratically thrown into what he assumed was the bath. He let out a yelp of pain as the burning hot water enveloped him. His vision snapped back to somewhat clear; he hadn’t noticed how pristinely white the bathroom was until then; it was very off-putting. “Why in the nine hells is it so damn hot?!” Thanatos hissed, spinning around to face the Banite. His anger vanished as he spotted the man removing his gauntlets and carefully rolling up his sleeves. “Quit complaining; this is probably the first bath you’ve taken in years. I need to try and remove all this disgusting built-up grime and dried blood,” Gortash said rather matter-of-factly, reaching down for something. The half drow kept staring at the man’s bare arms, something he’d never really seen. He came across the man attaching the gauntlets a few times, but even on the nights, the man would change into his robe and always kept those on. It was almost like he was as bare as the Bhaalspawn, another step the Banite was forcing him to take in their situationship. This felt balanced, though. Both had skin showing, not the same, but it was better than nothing.

The Lordling straightened up again, a dollop of some sort of soap in his palm. His eyebrow raised before he chuckled, husky and low. “Turn around,” He commanded, gently this time. Again, Thanatos slowly obeyed, taking time to drink in the glory of Gortash’s bare arms for as long as possible. He tried to count the thick, dark stands all over his forearms. Reflexively, Thanatos scrunched forward with his shoulders high and arms tightly wrapped around his legs. There was a stretch of silence before a hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back. He rather roughly hit the edge of the tub with his neck, which forced out a surprised grunt. Before the half drow could protest, he felt Gortash lean in close, his mouth to the Bhaalspawn’s ear. “Don’t fight,” He purred. “Relax.” Again, Thanatos found he couldn’t fight against the taller man’s demands, so he did as he was asked, melting into the water as he let his shoulders drop and legs scratch out. There was a sound of approval from the Lordling followed by the faintest press of his lips to the half drow’s shoulders. He fought against his body’s desire to tense at that.

Gortash began gently washing Thanatos with many strong-smelling products. The half drow allowed himself to be moved around like a doll, arms up and down, legs up and out. The Bainte was not shy as he let his hands touch anywhere and everywhere, but his touches never lingered, much to the Bhaalspawn’s unwilling reluctance. Anytime the shorter man squirmed or gave a very quiet whine, the Lordling would just give him a humored look and continue. This continued until the water turned a rusty color, the disgusting mix of dirt and blood making it impossible to see through the water anymore. There was also a strong smell, a mixture of fancy floral products and thick iron from the amount of blood from Thanatos. The water started to turn cold, and the shorter man’s fingers were nearly white. “Can I get out now?” The Bhaalspawn asked, adjusting his sitting to try and stop his ass from falling asleep. Gortash was still out of view behind him; Thanatos had assumed he was cleaning up. “Not yet, scoot up,” He answered. The half drow frowned but did as he was told, squashing himself forward in the tub.

He sat there for a few uncomfortable moments, his legs already starting to hurt from the awkward position. “How long am I going to have to- Ah!” Thanatos cut himself off when he felt the Banite slip behind him in the bathtub and an arm wrapped around the half drow’s chest. Before he could try to question the taller man, he was forcefully pulled back. His bony back hit Gortash’s broad chest, and both of their hips were pressed flushed. A burning filled the Bhaalspawn’s cheek as he felt the Lordling’s sizable hard cock in between his ass cheeks, almost snug between them. He looked over his shoulder and up at the other man, surprised at how unbothered the man looked. “W-What are you doing!?” Thanatos practically whimpered, having a hard time ignoring the cock slowly rubbing against him. There was a mischievous look in the Banite’s eyes as he leaned down to place a kiss on the side of the shorter man’s head. The taller man nudged his shoulder forward, making Thanatos’ head look away. Then, Gortash draped himself across the Bhaalspawn, his head resting on the half drow’s right shoulder with his right hand on the shorter man’s thigh. He hummed in Thanatos’ pointed ear. “Trust me,” The Lordling whispered. The half drow nodded, more focused on the hand sliding down his thigh and getting closer-

Suddenly, Thanatos’ sight blacked out entirely as the other man used his left hand to cover his good eye, leaving him completely blind. The Bhaalspawn tried to thrash about, to loosen the hand, but Gortash tightened his grip as he pressed his lips to the shorter man’s ear again. “Trust. Me.” He repeated, emphasizing his point with a painful bite to Thanatos’ lobe, which made his back arch involuntarily and an embarrassing high-pitched moan fall from his mouth. Another deep rumble went through the Banite’s chest, vibrating through the shorter man. The taller man’s grip loosened, and Thanatos willingly relaxed against Gortash, somewhat playfully wiggling his ass against the hard cock still pushing on him. It was to even out their playing field, which he felt he had accomplished when he heard the Lordling grunt.

When Gortash’s hand began rubbing slow, deliberate circles on his thigh, any playfulness disappeared as the Bhaalspawn fought against his body’s desire to move. The pressure was borderline painful, especially after the Banite had nearly cleaned Thanatos raw. As the taller man’s hand trailed inwards, the half drow struggled to keep his hips still even more which was made worse when the other man finally touched his cunt. The lordling touches were not kind; he immediately began pressing down painfully on the Bhaalspawn’s twitching and sensitive clit, not that Thanatos cared. He was never one to be shy about his noises, so the half drow let out a wail as his hips thrust on their own accord, vying for more stimulation. Regret filled him as soon as they moved. A disappointed series of tongue clicks snapped in his ear, the sharp sound hurting his already throbbing brain The Bhaalspawn had to fight another wail as the Banite switched from pressing to tightly pinching the shorter man’s clit. Thanatos let out a litany of high-pitched gasps and moans at the sensations, which only made the other man ruthlessly pinch tighter. He also moved his legs to sit on the half drow’s, preventing his hips from moving. “Be a good boy for me, Bhaalspawn. I’m trying to take care of you. Lie still or else,” Gortash cooed threateningly to Thanatos. All the shorter man could so was nod, mind still fuzzy from the painfilled pleasure on his clit. “Say it,” The Banite demanded.

“I can be a good b-boy,” The Bhaalspawn managed through uneasy gasps.

For a moment, the pinching got tighter, and the half drow screamed out in pain but managed to keep his hips still. This must’ve pleased the Lordling as he finally relented and released his ruthless pinch. Thanatos sagged back against him after he was freed, breathing heavily and body spasming. Gorstah placed a kiss on his cheek. “Very good,” He whispered, kissing down to the Bhaalspawn’s neck. The shorter man whimpered at the praise, which earned him the thick fingers back on his clit, this time giving it gentle swipes. They quickly turned into deliberate circles with practiced pressure that made Thanatos pant from pleasure. He could feel his cunt trying to get slick, the dirty water washing it away, but his desperate hole was insistent. “You deserve this reward, you know. But do you know why?” The Banite asked lowly. The half drow tried to shake his head, but the hand covering his good eye tightened. It seemed the taller man wanted a verbal response.

“No, I don’t- Ngh!” As he was trying to answer, Gortash’s fingers slipped into his pussy. They didn’t stay there, really; it seemed like they went in on accident as the Lordling started to just rub around the hole and up to his clit. “Because you came to me,” the Banite said with a breathy tone. “You came to me in your time of need; you came crawling to me for help,” His hand was faster now, grinding against Thanatos’ fluttering cunt purposefully. Humiliatingly, the Bhaalspawn could feel his climax already building up as he drowned in the sensation of Gortash. The sounds he was making were going higher and becoming more strangled. The Lordling was letting out deep noises as he panted into the half drow’s ear, and if Thanatos had the brain power, he would have noted the angry, hard cock rubbing insistenly on his ass. All the shorter man could feel those were those fingers on his weeping cunt. The Banite had begun biting the half drow’s neck as his head lulled to the side; he found it was too much effort to keep it upright. Thanatos felt the taller man growl against his skin, his fingers now going back to just focus on the twitching clit.

“My favorite assassin,” Gortash muttered into the Bhaalspawn’s love-bitten skin.

Even if he had wanted to, the half drow couldn’t stop the orgasms that ripped through his body. His back arched, and his mouth fell open in a silent scream at the pleasure that overwhelmed his body. Thanatos tittered on the top of the intensity for a surprisingly long time, his cunt spasming over and over again while his clit twitched against the fingers, still circling there. When his peak finally started to fall, he tried to squirm away from the insistent fingers, but the Banite refused to let him. “You can do another,” He growled, speeding up his ministrations, which the half drow helplessly writhed against. The Bhaalspawn tried to thrash the taller man’s fingers away, but his strength was solid. The pressure against his clit was hit white overstimulation, too much for his already sloppy brain to handle, but Gortash did not let up. “Another,” He commanded, and much to Thanatos’ surprise, his body managed to do so. As the second intense climax overtook his body, the shorter man screamed so long that his own ears started ringing. This orgasm didn’t last nearly as long as the other as seconds later, the Bhaalspawn collapsed against the Lordling’s chest. He managed to use his hands, which had sat uselessly at his side the entire time, to push away Gortash’s still-moving fingers. Thankfully, the taller man acquiesced and drew his fingers away.

Thanatos’ mind was an empty haze in the post-bliss of the two back-to-back orgasms. His body felt numb and limp as he was deadweight against the taller man. He felt the hand covering his good eye slip away, but he had no energy to try and open the eye. His ears were still ringing as he felt the Banite push him forward and climb out of the tub. The Bhaalspawn could hear him moving around, but it felt very distant, like he was across a vast field and not next to him. He could vaguely hear the man talking to him, but his voice was muffled like Gortash was underwater; Thanatos couldn’t make out the words. Eventually, the half drow felt arms slide under his armpits, then hook up before he was being lifted up and out of the tub. Even during this, his eyes stayed shut, and his body was still dead weight. The shorter man laughed as he could feel the Lordling struggling to move his body to his feet. As soon as they were finally under him, the Banite let go, and the Bhaalspawn fell straight to the floor, his exhausted body refusing to hold himself up. The fall didn’t even hurt; if anything, the cold floor felt amazing on Thanatos’ overheated skin. An annoyed grumble came from Gortash before the half drow felt arms under his again, this time under his knees and back. Much to his surprise, the shorter man was lifted, and then he presumed the taller man was holding him close to his chest. He still didn’t bother to try and open his eyes. Maybe this was the Banite’s way of playing mind games on the Bhaalspawn; after all, why would Gortash want to take care of him?

Wherever Thanatos was carried, he was plopped down on a soft surface, which he sank into as it morphed around his body. Reflexively, the shorter man curled up into a ball, nuzzling into his arms and tucking his legs in tightly. He could feel sleep crawling through his body, calling his name. Just as the Bhaalspawn was drifting off, he felt the Lordling press against him and his arms wrap around the half drow’s body. If he had the energy, Thanatos would’ve knocked the man loose for crossing a line again, but he just couldn’t. Instead, he allowed himself to drift off in the Banite’s embrace while beautiful images of the taller man being sliced and diced.

For once in his life, sleep came easy.

(I have over 1000 screenshots ((that I took specifically for this fix)) and yet I feel like I have nothing good) ((((Also the screenshots a pre-eye damage, pre-tadpole Than, he looks a bit different during the actual game))))

Pt. 1

Pt. 3

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 oc #durgetash #durge #bg3 durge #gortash x durge #enver gortash #bg3 gortash #goretrash #goretash #the dark urge x enver gortash #transgender #ftm #the dark urge #dark urge #lord enver gortash

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aladaylessecondblog · 5 months

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help me say goodbye (gortash x good tav pt 3)

Author's Note: Fingering, sex. Gortash is a manipulative prick.

----------------------------------------------

Tav supposed it was inevitable, even at the infrequent rate Gortash's visits happened.

She thought later that she should've known better than to assume it was just weight gain from the richer diet. The doctor confirmed what she both feared and hoped for.

"You are with child, my lady."

He had given a few gentle pats on the firm roundness of Tav's stomach, and sent her off with an order to eat well and a promise to see her again within a fortnight.

There was a chill down her spine, and yet--and yet there was a strange joy in it as well. A baby, really, a baby, someone to hold close, someone who would really love her. There was a momentary stab of sorrow but (perhaps almost worse) was the fact it passed quickly.

For all the sins he's committed, I hope making ugly children won't be one of them. Astarion's catty voice sounded off in her head. I mean, that NOSE...

One more step on the staircase into the hells. Halsin's voice followed, hard and cold. You should have left while you had the chance...but now you carry his cub, and that will link you evermore.

-----------------------------

Gortash was thrilled, but then, Tav had expected that, along with the announcement he made regarding it.

(She did not bother writing any letters to any of her former friends--they didn't care to hear news of Gortash, so why would they want to know of this?)

What she did not expect was how he would react to her growing figure. Touching her stomach, now, that might've been normal enough, but to do it so frequently...to have her join him for the night, and then to wake up with his hand on her belly...it surprised her in a way she wasn't sure she was ready for.

But it was the change in their bedroom trysts that surprised her most. Whereas before it was once or sometimes twice a week, and mostly a slow, indulgent sort of pace--now it was three or four times a week and with more quick passion. When she asked why after one such session, there was a dark chuckle before he replied.

"Can a man not be excited by his ripe wife?" He pulled her close and laughed again. "The sight of you like this has stirred me like nothing else."

Tav shivered slightly.

Why? Why must you be like this? What is making you act so kindly? Please, just stop. Be the tyrant you always have been, and this will be easier...

She didn't want to enjoy this. Didn't want to relax with the feel of his arms around her, with her head against his chest. This was not what he was supposed to be!

"I...had heard that the sight of a woman round with his child could...excite some men," Tav said quietly, "Something about looking at her, and knowing she would not be so if it weren't for you."

"Exactly that," he whispered in her ear, laying his still-gauntleted hand over the bump in her abdomen. "I see it, I see you, and think that here lies more evidence of my power. That here lies the one who will inherit what I build."

"I had the vague idea that you had planned to live forever," Tav gave a false laugh. "Through some means or the other."

"To live forever would require putting myself under another's power, and that I will NEVER do again." Gortash sat up and brought her with him. He was holding her head in his hands, and meeting her eyes seriously, directly, for the first time since their marriage had been arranged.

Silence.

"I need you to understand, Tav. What we're doing here could become a dynasty. Do you understand? Are you listening?"

Tav quailed, though not from fear of Gortash. She gulped, and forced herself to hold eye contact with him as a few tears slipped out.

"I'm listening."

-----------------------------

"What--here?"

She was pressed against the wall of the conference chamber designated for their meeting with Karlach, and Gortash was quite clearly ready to go. Never mind that they were to commence the meeting shortly, never mind that there were any number of Flaming Fists in the outer hallway--

"Why not?" he was smirking at her as one hand hiked up the hem of her gown. "No one is going to enter this chamber until I allow it."

"You are the most depraved man I've ever met," Tav practically growled the words, but didn't fight a bit when his hand slipped below her underwear. "What happened to not wanting it too often?"

"You happened," Gortash said against her lips, "You, the way you've swelled, the way you carry MY child..."

His fingers stroked down and then in--

Tav gripped tightly at his shoulders.

"Try to keep quiet," he whispered, "Do you WANT to be heard? Do you want the guards to hear how well pleased you are?"

"You--" Tav attempted to retort, but was reduced to a shaky moan when two fingers moved knuckle deep inside her. "Oh..."

"Don't call out," Gortash demanded as his fingers deviously worked inside her, "Don't let them hear you. We must maintain the visage of dignity, after all..."

"I can't--"

"You can, I know you can." The whisper turned dark as he went on, "Or...do you WANT them to hear you, Tav?"

She clenched at the wall behind her as best she could; it was wholly inadequate for the exercise.

"I think you want to be heard," Gortash teased further. His thumb rubbed eager circles over her clit, and only moved faster when she pressed a hand over her mouth. "But it's wonderful you're trying to stay quiet...you're trying so hard to do what I'm asking--of--you--"

He punctuated the last two halts with a thrust of his fingers, and she saw that smug look in his eyes even as she felt the knot coiling tighter and tighter in her belly.

Gods, take me now...

(Only at the last moment before she felt his cock on her thigh did Tav realize he'd also been stroking himself...)

His hand drew back and almost in an instant he'd lifted her just slightly to give a thrust--

Tav held back as best she could, but a muffled moan still sounded off beneath her hand.

It was awkward for about thirty seconds, terrifying for one when she felt herself falling, and awkward once more when she caught herself on the seat of a chair just beside them.

Instead of trying to hold the position she steadied herself and turned to bend over the chair. Gortash instantly took the hint and pushed into her the second he could with an almost choked sort of groan.

"And you tell ME I want to get heard--" she said, "Now...stop fooling around and--"

A hard, almost hip-bruising thrust. A leap of pleasure in her gut.

"I don't recall you being the one who gives orders here," he said, "Such a shame we don't have time to punish you properly for it. But we can correct this bad behavior."

The gauntlet came down to grip tightly at her hip. She gasped more from the surprise of it than the actual pain, but what took her breath away was the next series of thrusts. Hard, merciless, unyielding--and which left her completely unable to form anything like a coherent thought.

"Not a sound," Gortash growled after the next one, "Do you hear me, Tav? Not a single sound until after I've finished you."

It was a struggle, but with a hand clapped firmly over her mouth, Tav managed it. The ecstasy rose higher, higher, and higher still, until every feeling was lust and every thought was more--and then suddenly it broke. Her whole body shuddered with the release and the effort, and from the grunt and spasm behind her she knew he'd almost at once found his own end. It was a cascade of feeling, as the fine point of release faded into the warm afterglow...

On shaky legs she stood, healed the wound at her hip, and adjusted her gown. Gortash tucked himself away and rebuckled his belt.

Just in time, too, for there was a knock at the door.

"Enter," Gortash called.

It was one of the Flaming Fists.

"Karlach's here."

"Send her in."

--------------------------------------------

The look of surprise on sight of Tav was written all over the tiefling's face, but Karlach got down to business right away without once mentioning it. There was still the matter of the remaining Absolute army--Gortash suggested having splinter factions form in order to not only weaken the different units but also remove the singular focus as a whole.

"Won't they question that?" Tav asked. "The point of the Absolute was to unite them."

"'Only a suggestion, my dear. What do you propose?"

"Something similar, but...perhaps purging the more...bloodthirsty units in some way. Such soldiers can be handy, but...well, Orin comes to mind. A mad dog can bite its master's hand too."

"And well we know that," Karlach added.

In the end, though she didn't at all care for it, it was hashed out that the more...evil inclined...units, or soldiers, would find themselves encouraged to take place in bloodsports. The army of the Absolute would need strong champions, after all, and what better way to prove themselves than in such competition?

Karlach stood to leave once they had issued the order to the elder brain.

"Perhaps you'd like to stay for dinner," Tav said, "It's been so long, I'd hoped that I could see how you're doing. You and all the rest of..."

"Ah, you know me, soldier, I don't do well in places like this." Karlach gave a strange half-done smile, and a glance in Gortash's direction. "And I'm not so certain others would like the view."

Tav inclined her head.

"I understand. You prefer the freedom of...Moonrise Towers, and its surroundings. It's been some time since I visited..."

In similar nothings did the conversation conclude. Karlach left politely if a bit coldly.

--------------------------------------------

Perhaps it was a masochistic streak that lead her to make the journey down to the Elfsong on foot. It hadn't been bad before, but something about trying to do it not--perhaps it was just from her swollen feet. They HAD been paining her of late. Whatever she had been eating wasn't--she didn't know how to describe it, but she wanted something less refined. Something more in the way of common food, even if it was only just so.

It was raining by the time she got inside, and after fielding a few bows and polite greetings Tav headed for the bar. No alcohol, of course, but they did have a delightful fruit blend that--

"I was glad to get out of there."

Karlach's voice sounded off from a corner table, and Tav--after making a quick order for some chicken and shrimp stew--listened carefully to see what she could hear.

"She looks like she's enjoying herself. Didn't bring up the grave--Wyll told me to ask about it, but really, I don't think it's going to be necessary."

"We should all have gone," Shadowheart's voice was heard then.

Tav got her stew, and started on it.

"And make you put up with Gortash's company? I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

Yet you're making me do it, Tav thought. She tried to shut out the thought, tried not to hear more, but there was no escaping it.

"It's not that I don't want to see her," Karlach went on, "It's him. But...you should've seen her...parroting what he thought and agreeing with him in smaller ways, like she was toadying up to--"

A surge of anger carried her up and away from the very-much-wanted stew, towards Karlach's table.

It was as if something inside her had broken, given way,

"I'm so sorry I DON'T meet your standards," she snarled, "Pardon me for trying to please the man who could make my life as good or bad as he wanted to."

"I didn't make you do that!"

"What choice did we have?" Tav asked. "Orin doing what she did, the tadpoles, and...I just..."

"We could've found a way out," Karlach replied.

"I wasn't going to take the chance on losing anyone else, not after--after--" She took a deep, shaky, horrible breath. "--I did this all for all of YOU, and you just...you just abandon me! And then you wonder why I've shifted about to keep this man I call husband happy!"

Neither of the two could find a reply to that.

"I...I just wanted things to be as they were. I thought...I could bear with it, I have my friends! ...but...it looks like...like you hate him more than you like me." Tav took a deeper, shakier breath. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to...to unburden you from my company."

"Tav--"

She didn't listen; whether it was Shadowheart or Karlach no longer seemed to matter.

-------------------------------------------

There was a breeze, at least, and an air of calm peace. It was a place she was sure Halsin would have loved in life, and as for Astarion--well, his grave would get plenty of sun most days out here. It was outside the city, under a nice tall tree. And getting no sun right now, with the grey rainclouds largely blocking it out. She would have to leave sooner than anticipated if it started raining, else the maids would fuss at her for getting her silks wet.

The gravestone she looked down upon was marble, cut with the words:

HERE LIES ASTARION & HALSIN

LET YOU WHO READ THIS KNOW: I LOVED THEM BOTH

AS ONCE THEY LOVED BOTH MYSELF AND EACH OTHER

Atop the gravestone was a carving of a bear dancing with a star.

"I miss you both," Tav said quietly, "You have no idea how much...I wish I could turn back time and undo all of this, but I can't...time only moves forward and I...and I..."

Her tears began to fall just as the drizzling of the rain began.

"I don't think they meant to, but...but it's just been Gortash all this time, just me with him, trying to...trying to make something of the pile of shit I've..."

Deep breath. It didn't much help.

"Help me figure this out. Help me figure out how I'm suppose to--to--keep doing any of this when the people I did it for...don't seem to realize what I gave up for them. Maybe they don't realize because...because they don't have to live it. He's all that I have now and I...I'm afraid of what I might feel..."

She let her gaze rest on Astarion's name.

"It should be you, my star," she said, "Astarion. It should be YOUR child I carry..."

She looked away.

"Or Halsin's, but..." Tav took another deep breath. "I miss you more right now, Astarion. The jokes, the snobbishness, the catty humor...you were everything, until Orin...until Orin..."

She burst into tears once again.

There was a sudden chill, and she shivered, standing and pulling her cloak more tightly about her shoulders.

But she realized quickly it wasn't the rapidly-worsening rain, because none was falling over her.

Someone--she remembered this one from the Flophouse--was holding an umbrella over her head.

"I had heard you knew where this grave was," said a dark, clipped voice behind her. "How fortunate you chose to visit it today."

Wiping her eyes, Tav looked up and into those belonging to Cazador Szarr.

#spawns are for holding umbrellas #misery abounds #gortash x tav #tavtash #gortash #gortav #gortash bg3 #bg3 gortash #bg3 cazador #enver gortash #fanfiction #bg3 smut

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maegalkarven · 6 months

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Another piece of unpolished writing is set free.

Post Noah reveal, Lord Enver Gortash and his favorite (traitorous) assassin attempt to have a long-awaited talk.

Durgetash, trans!Durge. Nsfw (this is the part where they tear into each other like starved animals.)

There's a loud, ringing noise in Gortash's ears, and the full weight of Bane's disapproval over his shoulders. That's the problem with masters; the moment you act out of their allowed narrative is the moment you're getting punished.

Enver knows he will meet torture upon death, the consequences of servitude just keep piling up. First Raphael and House of Hope, always ready to take is soul back, now the Black Lord. Enver wonders who'll get the first claim over his soul in case of his death, and if adding just another force after it will complicate the whole process, buying him time, or will it doom him even more.

He would swore to every god imaginable, if only to watch them all fight over his soul afterwards, the vultures gods truly are. Not that different from the devils, after all.

"You're quiet," a familiar voice mentions. "Calm. This is concerning."

He thinks about laughing right into Bhaalspawn's face, then decides against it.

"Would you prefer me to have a tantrum?" He replies instead.

He doesn't look to see Levi take a step forward, careful as if worried he'd spook him. Like they are strangers, like the entire plot Levi unmade piece by piece wasn't of their creation.

Traitor.

"I would prefer if you gave me reaction," another step. "Any reaction."

"And why," he finally looks up and his gaze immeditely gets stuck to the mess in the place where Levi's right eye used to be. Bloody Orin. Maybe he can put together a smart implant for the eye.

Foolish, thinking about all the ways he can improve Bhaalspawn even now. "Do you care?"

Levi takes another drastic step forward, ending chest to chest with Gortash, his breath ghosting over Enver's face.

"You said it," he tries to smile and fails, expression coming out in a grimace. "I am your nearest and dearest. We have a child, for fucks sake, it ought to mean something."

This is a low blow. Any mention of Noah is, especially as it's still stuck in his mind: the image of Noah throwing himself into his father's embrace, of Levi catching him into his arms and clutching into for dear life.

Like he cares. Like he didn’t abandon Noah there to begin with.

"You just met him," he pushes through the gritted teeth, trying to relax his jaw. "Don't act like you care."

Levi blinks at him, confused and genuine.

This is not his Levi, and yet it is.

Parts are missing, parts are misplaced, but important things are all the same.

Enver watches, transfixed, as his hand raises, as if on it's own accord, to lay on the bhaalspawn's neck, first gently, then it closes over the man's throat and squeezes.

Levi's eyes bulge, but he has the audacity to not fight, to simply take the abuse in. He lays his own hand over Enver and caresses it. Enver squeezes tighter.

"I asked you one thing," he lets out, low and angry. "One damn thing: leave the Iron Throne alone. But you just had to snoop around, did you? You just had to ruin every single of my carefully constructed plans-"

The bhaalspawn finally decides he dislikes being chocked to death, and thus forcibly tears Enver's hand off his throat. He coughs, squeezing Gortash's hand in his still, thrumb caressing the calloused skin underneath the gauntlet.

The gauntlet absent of netherstone, because it was taken from Enver the same way everything was taken from him.

He thinks if he lets himself be angry, he will never stop.

"Charming," Levi finally weezes out between the coughs. "I can see why I like you so much."

"Why you liked me so much," Gortash corrects. "Past tense."

The bhaalspawn gives him a weird look.

"No, Enver," he argues, and the sound of Enver's name on his tongue has no right to sound so sweet.

Enver hates this man with the burning passion.

"Like. Present tense," he moves to be even closer, despite it quitle literally being impossible. Enver stands his ground, which rewards him with Bhaalspawn being all but wrapped around him.

The earthy scent ambushes his senses; the smell of grass and blood and dying leaves and something distictly animal-

Then a mouth closes over his, intent in it's unrelenting force; swift tongue opens Enver's lips and slides in.

He thinks of bitting this tongue off, even as he feels his own muscles relax, betraying him in their urgent need to re-capture the familiar scene.

He doesn't fight back, but doesn't respond either; being as still as statue as every inch of his body screams at him to do someting, take control, wrap his hand around Levi's hair and pull, push the man on the table and-

Levi's moan vibrates through the kiss, the hot, eager tongue licking at his teeth, being everywhere at once, overbearing, overstimulating-

It's just a kiss.

It feels like Levi is trying to devour him. Enver's hands move on his own accord, entangling in a long, messy hair and finally doing what they itched to do.

Levi let's out a surprised laugh as his head is violently yanked back. Then he pushes forward as Enver keeps pulling back.

"Aw, but I liked what I was doing," the bhaalspawn cooes, lips red and wet with saliva, single eye unfocused. "I love how you taste, I want to taste all of you."

"Of course you do," Enver grunts as his leg, again without any command given, moves to press firmly between the bhaalspawn's legs.

Levi giggles.

"Oh, good," he smiles. "You're responding. And here I was worried Karlach's beating made you impotent."

Enver growls. He'll show this arrogant asshole who thinks he can waltz in and out Enver's life how potent he truly is.

The bhaalspawn won't be able to move for days after that.

Some of his intents had to reflect on his face, for Levi looks positively elated.

"Yes," he murmurs, voice low and full of lust. "Do that. Tear into me, break me into pieces, destroy me and pull me back anew-"

"I will. Don't say you didn't ask for this," Enver threatens and knows very well Levi will not say that. Levi will take all Enver has to offer and will take it with grace.

Bhaalspawn smiles, beautiful and tantalizing.

"Promises, promises..."

***

It's like coming home. The thought is annoying, it's embarassing, and yet it refuses to leave.

The moment Enver slides into Bhaalspawn, the man sprawled underneath him - yes, on the table - hands held firmly in Enver's own - it feels like all the last months of sleep-deprivation, stress and the perfect plan falling apart didn’t happen.

It feels like the first time, with Levi cowered from head to toe in blood and viscera, with Enver letting him press into himself even so, knowing very well his clothes will be ruined by the impact.

It's the powerful rush of something primal, something bigger than he can ever become, a wave of affection so deep he feels like he is drowning.

Three years ago he was trying his best to tear out these feelings. Two years ago be prayed to Bane to free him from the prison of useless emotions.

A year ago he decided it would be better if Levi simply disappeared; out of the sight, out of his mind, out of his life.

Several months ago his dreams came to life, while his heart, stimulatiously, stopped.

Now he can breathe, even as the ocean of feelings rushes in, drowns him in it, pulls him under-

Not even death can free him from Leviathan Anchev, not Leviathan's and not his own. He walked himself into his own trap, and the doors are locked shut.

"Enver," his destroyer murmurs underneath, a picture perfect image of demise. Beautiful, bloody, mad with hunger what has nothing to do with his urges. Enver's back itches with the new scratches what were torn into it just now, the force of Levi's affection presenting itself in deep bloody slices of skin bleeding all over Gortash's back.

He leans in to kiss his name off Leviathan's lips, to make him light-headed, to steal the life out of these lungs.

His, his, his-

"Mine," he says aloud and feels Levi's tongue on his palm.

"Yours," the monster he tamed agrees. "Only yours. Please, Enver, I will die if you stop, I will tear at your flesh and chew on your bones if you don't-"

He snorts, and Levi stops his rant long enough to look offended.

"Don't be so dramatic," he caresses the tensed thigh with his clawed fingers, leaving light red marks on its wake. Levi moans. "I will take you and I will not stop taking you till there's nothing left. I will drink you up to the bottom and swallow it down. You fell back to me willingly - you're never getting out."

Levi suddenly rises on his elbows to pull him closer, forehead to forehead. He looks unexpectedly gentle, too gentle for someone who's being fucked out of his mind.

"Good," he murmurs and then pulls Enver's lower lip into his mouth and bites hard. He licks and sucks at the blood as Enver hisses through gritted teeth, his movements losing rhythm and becoming uneven. "I don't want out. This is where I want to end, you're the one I want to end me," and with that he squeezes his lower muscles, making Enver push in harder and hissing under the new pressure. "Have you ever heard of praying mantis?"

Enver actually laughs at that, the vibration going through both of their bodies.

"You have used them as an example of what you want to do to me, yes," he huffs, kissing the side of his lover's head where the broken horn meets the skin. Levi chuckles, then moans, then adjusts position slightly, changing the angle and letting Gortash reach even further.

"Then you know how much I love you," he hums.

No, he doesn't, or he didn't, or maybe he refused to know.

He kisses the corner of stubborn mouth as he feels release build up inside; Levi lets out a small, breathless huff.

"Enver," he whispers as Gortash captures his lips in a kiss, a single word caressing him like a promise.

"Me too," Enver agrees. "Hold on for me, will you?"

Levi does, and so they finish together in this so overused by bad erotica novels way, practically merging into one being at the top of the extasy. Levi reaches out and bites into his shoulder; blood, red and hot, dripping down his chin. Enver lets go of his hands in favor of sinking his claws into there the thigh connects to the bottom, piercing skin in the process.

Enver doesn't remember what sex without violence is and he wouldn't want it any other way.

He lets go of the thighs to press shaking Levi into himself as they ride out the waves of pleasure. Levi's teeth are still in his shoulder, his hands are losing themselves in his hair, his tail is wrapped around Enver's leg so tightly the man starts to feel it getting numb.

Even as all of his plans have crushed and burned around him, Gortash still has one victory left.

This, the child of Bhaal lost in his clutches.

He will not allow him go.

#dark urge: levi #durgetash #dark urge x gortash #the dark urge x enver gortash #family matters #I'm too tired to polish things and post them properly #on ao3 with tags and names and shit #so here we go #take it or leave it #dumb future husbands who can't live without annoying each other to the point of madness

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alexisherself · 1 month

Text

The Cat and the Fox

Chapter Two: Edict of Bane

Summary: Enver sets the stage for a meeting between him and The Chosen of Bhaal.

AO3 LINK

In the alley Gortash grabbed the note and unfurled it. He chuckled to himself, she was just as intriguing and impressive as he thought.

“Watching me now are you, Enver? Enjoying the show? The last 4 bodyguards made for sweet sacrifices, this one better than the last. He really thought he had but the Bloodletter of Bhaal is always one step ahead. Maybe pick someone with a bit more vigor next time, someone who will put up more of a fight.

See you again soon, Banite.”

He chuckled to himself. Gortash should be afraid but something about this game of cat and mouse excited him. Though he wouldn’t be the mouse, and surely she wasn’t either. More like a cat and a fox attempting to out smart the other. He tucked the note in his jacket pocket and left the body in the alley. Deryk misjudged Bhaal’s blade, he deserved his fate.

He made his way back home and stuffed her note in his bedside table with the others she left him. All with taunting language and words that alluded to his goings on around the city. She was definitely following him as well, keeping tabs of his work with smokepowder, the steel watch and his other exploits. Curious, did she watch him the other night when he was with Lady Jannath? Something stirred in him and he let the feeling sit for a bit as he changed into his robe and removed his gauntlet. What would she leave for him next? Who of his guards would be the next sacrifice?

Three days later and no sight of the Bhaalist besides three more dead men and notes stained in their blood. Each note similar to the last playfully taunting him with the promise of her appearance. Enver refastened his gauntlet and adjusted his robe. Why was he slightly nervous? Would she show up tonight and they can finally begin the work their patrons wished them to do.

Enver set the table in his room for the seventh night in a row. Bottle of wine, two glasses and a pipe with tobacco. Seating himself towards the window he lit the pipe. The bottle was left unopened, because of course he wasn’t a fool. If the Bhaalist thought he poisoned anything she’d surely end him. If she was anything like her sister, Orin, the only thing he could count on was that the wrong move would leave him dead, regardless of their Gods’s desires. She didn’t see him as a threat though, the seven dead fellow Banites and bodyguards he found with notes in them showed that.

Thrilling it was in a way, his safety guaranteed by her Father’s will. Bane and Bhaal wanted this meeting to happen, which gave them both the illusion of safety in the situation. Yet he couldn’t help but feel a tiny twinge of fear. A small prayer to Bane kept his cool and he sat and waited. She would have to show up sometime, any longer and it was just wasting time.

His room became hazy, a cloud of fog filled the air from a point he could quite see. He clenched his gauntleted hand but otherwise remained still. Cool and composed, he couldn’t allow her to see anything but. In the moment the fog thickened he felt something sharp in his neck. Of course, a show of power no doubt.. She wanted the upper hand, to show him she could dispose of him at any moment.. Enver had been an admirer of her work before Bane had spoken to him to seek her out. So clean, precise and efficient and never a spectacle and it was remarkable.

“Ah, I see you’ve finally decided to make your appearance.” Gortash smirked as he took another puff from his pipe. He heard her chuckle softly and the blade was removed from his neck, leaving a small cut. The fog remained and he couldn’t see where she went but it started to lift and there she was, in the seat next to him.

“Well, keeping you waiting after 7 nights of setting up this quaint display” Solikha said eyeing him up. “would be quite rude, would it not?”

Ah, so she had been watching him the last couple nights. Gortash had assumed but no guard was alerted or trap disturbed or disarmed. He would have to up the protections around him tomorrow in case this all went sour. He must not let his guard down even if and when their alliance was secured.

“You’re quite the impressive hunter, Solikha. It’s been a pleasure to see your work.” Gortash saw her flinch just slightly at the use of her name. Did she not expect that he figured it out? The last week had given him a chance to study her techniques and habits, of course he’d figure out her name as well. “Would you like a glass of wine?” He asked, opening the bottle finally.

Solikha’s lips pursed and then smiled slightly as she nodded. She was plain by any measure of conventional beauty but he found himself unable to look away. Freckles scattered over her pale skin, mousy brown hair was tied back for practicality sake, a scar across her face looked newly healed. Her eyes were a piercing green, much like a cat, and prodding him. Studying him much like he was studying her. What did she see when she looked at him, he wondered.

She took the goblet and discreetly sniffed the wine and waited for him to drink first. Smart, but what else did he expect? A seasoned killer like herself would not make such a mistake. Gortash obliged and tipped his goblet back, catching her gazing at his neck.

“Thanks Enver. You’re too are quite impressive, at schmoozing I mean.” She smiled and took a sip as she used his name in kind. No one referred to him as Enver nowadays, was she attempting a power play? She took another sip and then continued, “You have quite the knack at flattery don’t you?”

“It’s all part of the job, to pick people apart and know how to work them.” Enver said, watching her expression closely. “To figure out what makes them tick, their wants, needs, and deepest desires. I wouldn’t be here with even half the skills I have at my disposal.” And it’s what he was doing now, with her. How could he use this all to his advantage? Was there something to peel back with the Bhaalist? She may be a demigod by definition but she was still part mortal, no?

She raised an eyebrow at him and he couldn’t read her expression. “So you had to know that every grunt you sent my way would be killed.” She finally said after mulling over his words.

“Perfect sacrifices to show my willingness to forge this alliance, of course.” He replied plainly. He had suspected as much and his guards had too. Thankfully he wouldn’t have to tail her like that any longer, he was unlikely to get anyone to do the job again. “Can’t say I was excited to lose seven men but I hope they were to your liking.”

Solikha raised an eyebrow at him again, and a slight smile appeared. “I have to say, it was fun letting them think they had me. Fools these mortals be, messing with a child and Chosen of Bhaal. You’d think they would have learned after the fourth peer ended up dead.”

They chatted back and forth over the bottle of wine and when they finished it he grabbed another. Her wit was as sharp as her blade, much more than he thought a Bhaalist could be. The others he came across in his time back in Baldur’s Gate were erratic and cryptic, the bloodlust seen clearly in their eyes. When he looked at Solikha he saw calculations, intent and determination. Like other Bhaalspawn he was sure she had urges, but in this moment they seemed to be sated as far as he could tell. More time together would allow him to read her better and he had to admit, he was enjoying her company more than most of his other exploits.

“I suppose we should get to the meat of this meeting, hm?” Solikha eyed him intently, downing her glass and filling another. “As much as our banter is entertaining, we do have work to do. What nefarious plan have you concocted that caused our Gods decide we should meet, Banite?”

Gortash smirked now and set his glass down. Grabbing his notebook from the table he tried to contain his excitement. “Have you ever heard of the Crown of Karsus?”

#bg3 durge #durge oc #bg3 #durgetash #bg3 fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #baldurs gate 3 #enver gortash #dark urge x gortash

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slothquisitor · 7 months

Text

Sever

In which Gortash dies, and Karlach rages, and everyone wonders if revenge is really the right answer. Also, shout out to my fellow folks with complicated family situations. This one is for you. Astarion x Liv, 5.5k, mostly angst.

Also on AO3.

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Liv stares down at Gortash’s still-warm body and wonders when she became so comfortable with death. The first time she had ever seen a dead body had been when her sister had died, but she hadn’t been the one personally responsible for the death of another until she had been on that mindflayer ship. She knew, of course, that all of her magic, her studies, could be used in this way. But it is one thing to summon a flame and hold that warmth in her hand and another entirely to see the burnt corpse in the aftermath.

She remembers those first few weeks in the wilderness, killing gnolls and goblins and cultists, the way she would sneak away to retch after every fight. No one had noticed, or if they had, they simply hadn’t mentioned it. Until one day, with the adrenaline rush from the fight fading, she found she didn’t need to step away. And now, as she stands over Gortash’s body, she realizes she feels…not sadness, not exactly. Instead, it’s more a sense of waste.

There’s no sense of victory when she pries the netherstone gauntlet from his hand. Though the Emperor’s voice is full of it inside her head. But this isn’t like when they rescued the Gondians and Duke Ravenguard. This isn’t like killing Ketheric Thorm and watching the shadow curse recede. It’s justice, of a sort, but it doesn’t feel victorious.

Karlach is beside her, having dealt the final blow with her halberd. Gortash’s blood still stains the blade, and Liv can feel the heat radiating from her friend. It always takes a few moments for Karlach’s rage to fade after battle, but this is different. She’s somehow heating up. She’s about to ask how she’s doing when Karlach speaks.

“So Gortash is nothing more than a pile of flesh, same as the rest of us.” She’s staring down at his unmoving body, orange eyes filled with rage and grief and ten lost years. “I feel like there should be a sunset for me to ride off into. Or an orchestral swell…or something .”

Karlach finally meets her gaze. “But there’s nothing is there? I killed the bastard who ruined my life, and my prize is that I get to crawl into a corner and die. Am I fucking missing something? I can’t do it anymore. Ten years, man. It’s enough. It’s enough. He’s dead and he’s no fucking sorrier now than he was before. What was the point? I’m still dying. I’m dying. I’m going to die.”

Liv feels just as helpless, just as out of her depth as when Astarion killed Cazador. Gortash deserved to die, but Karlach is right: killing him didn’t make him sorry for what he did. “We’re going to figure out your engine problem, Karlach. There’s got to be a way.”

“Got a miracle in your back pocket you forgot to tell me about?” Karlach shakes her head. “I’m going to be as dead as Gortash any day now. Any moment. And what then? Off to the city of Judgement to waste into oblivion? Into the dirt to get eaten by maggots? Is that it for me? Is that fucking all?”

Liv flinches back as Karlach flares, heat radiating dangerously. “And you, you’ll just keep going, won’t you? Watching the stars. Reading your books. Drawing, eating, making fucking love all night - all of it. All of it.” The fire burns white hot and bright. “That’s my reward for everything I suffered. That’s why I survived years of torment. The fighting, the clawing, the loneliness, the fucking loneliness …All of it so I could rot. Because the person I trusted the most gave me away to the devil!”

And just as quick as it came, the flames diminish, banked by grief. Karlach begins to cry, face covered by her hands. “It isn’t fair. I don’t want it like this.”

Liv doesn’t want it like this either. Karlach’s anger feels different, somehow more distant than anyone else’s. There aren’t words to reach it. While she rages, screams, and yells about the unfairness, Liv has nothing to offer. Nothing that might close that distance, that might save her this. Gortash is dead, and it doesn’t matter because Karlach is still dying. Her heart still cannot survive in this plane, and it doesn’t matter what foes they defeat or if the city is saved, Karlach still won’t be. Liv fights the tears that threaten to fall. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair at all. I hate this for you.”

Karlach wipes at her eyes. “I don’t want to die. I want to live. I want to stay. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?”

Liv steps closer, showing her that she’s not afraid, and that she’s not alone. “I don’t know. I want you to stay too.” She extends her arms and isn’t surprised when Karlach pulls her in for a bone-crushing hug.

When she pulls away, Karlach seems steadier. “I want to get out of here. I’ve always hated this place. Stupid fucking gigantic bridge or whatever. I think I need to go be alone for a while. Scream at the sky.”

Liv understands. “I’ll find you later.”

Karlach puts a hand on her shoulder. “Thanks for listening. For existing. Love you.”

Love. Dropped so casually, but filled with so much heart. Despite all she’s been through, Karlach is unfailingly, unwaveringly kind. Quick to offer encouragement and praise, quicker still to offer comfort. It would be so easy for her to walk through the world with her fists raised, ready to fight off everything and everyone, to keep them all at a distance. But instead, her hands are out and open, a hug, an arm draped over shoulders, fist bumps, high fives. Always welcoming, always inviting. Liv doesn’t always know what to do in the face of all that, and now she doesn’t know how to respond. She wishes those words were as easy to say as they are to feel.

Liv hates that this is the one problem she can’t solve right now. Liv knows a lot about magic, history, languages. She has received the best education that her parents’ money could buy. But this is beyond her, for now. She’s sure that with enough time and study and perhaps help from Dammon, she can find a solution, but that is time they do not have. Not with so many other problems that seem hellsbent on presenting themselves at the most inconvenient moments.

Karlach leaves, and Liv glances around the massive office, eyes catching on their other companions. Shadowheart and Jaheira are busy tending to Lae’zel and Astarion who both got caught in those damn incineration casters that seem to be affixed to every wall in this place. She’s sure that Wyll and Gale will join them shortly, as they’d stayed below, picking off the last of the Flaming Fist who had tried to follow them up the tower. But everyone is fine. Everyone is okay.

There will be time later for her to consider how close this was. For her to fall apart while she remembers watching Lae’zel and Astarion get caught in flames. But she still has work to do right now, so she takes a deep breath and begins working her way through Gortash’s office. She rifles through cabinets, bookshelves, and desks, looking for anything that might be helpful, might give them clues about where the brain is. She keeps an eye out for anything that might implicate the people who were in league with Gortash, who funneled him support or money or simply turned the other way. Gortash seems the type to keep a list.

Once Lae’zel and Astarion are healed, everyone else joins in too, piling everything potentially useful on the table in the center of the room. Liv pores over it all, journal entries, memoir notes, invasion plans. Painting a picture of a man with more ambition than sense.

“There’s something over here,” Astarion says, and she glances his way. “Ah, how utterly predictable.” He pulls a picture down off the wall, revealing a safe.

Liv abandons the books she was looking through, wandering over to this corner of the room. “Can you open it?”

Astarion looks offended. “My dear, do you forget who you’re talking to?”

“Gods save me from certain vampires and their egos. This is the guy who rigged this whole place with concussion grenades and flamethrowers, and you’re telling me it’s a simple lock and key?”

Astarion grins mischievously. “Speaking of ego, it’s not even trapped.”

That is surprising. Astarion is already picking the lock, deft fingers working quickly. Despite his perpetual complaints for a skeleton key, Astarion seems to enjoy this. After a few moments, the lock clicks and the door swings open. Astarion steps back proudly, waving a hand in the invitation for her to go through the contents. She steps up to the safe, already reaching for the small black book that lies within.

“Is Karlach alright?” Astarion asks, words quiet though there is little chance of them being overheard here.

Liv turns away from the contents of the safe; they will keep. “Were you?”

His eyes widen at the question, but he recovers quickly. “Gods, is there no fairness in this world? Karlach may have killed him, but it doesn’t change anything does it?” His words are soft, sad even.

Liv shakes her head. “It doesn’t.” She turns back to the safe and the contents within. She picks up the book, and begins thumbing through its pages. It becomes obvious very quickly that these are Gortash’s notes, a ledger of sorts on every person who pledged him money and support. The names are written out in an inelegant hand, the black ink stains are dark and grotesque.

Her parents' names are on page five.

There is no ghastly surprise at the revelation, only resignation. Of course, their names are here. Of course, this is the way it is. She is so tired, so very tired. No matter how hard she tries, she isn’t sure if she’ll ever be able to escape her family. Because she can’t seem to hate them, can’t seem to forget them. So at every turn, with every revelation, she just ends up betrayed, somehow still young and stupid and naive even when she knows she shouldn’t be.

She tucks the book away in her bag; it feels heavier than it should.

***

Gortash is dead, and Liv is too quiet. In fact, all of their companions are. It’s almost as if they didn’t have a big victory today. They’ve got two out of the three netherstones! A bad guy is dead…as are many of the Flaming Fist following him, which, good riddance, honestly. Astarion isn’t sure why everyone is being so wet around the ears about this one.

Perhaps it is because killing Gortash has not secured Halsin’s release, and instead has revealed yet another hoop to jump through in order to rescue him. They truly have no reason to take Orin at her word, and yet, if Halsin was dead, Astarion is sure that they’d know it. The bloody notes Orin has delivered to their rooms at the Elfsong haven’t smelled even faintly of Halsin. Small comfort, that.

The somber mood might also be attributed to Karlach. He’s never seen her like this. Even in the shadow lands, she’d remained steadfastly cheerful. He remembers detesting it, her happiness, her freedom with touch after her second upgrade. Still, he wonders if he knows a little of what she’s going through.

So, despite his better judgment, he wanders over to Karlach. She’s sitting on one of the couches, alone but not quite alone. Across the sunken area of their rooms, she half-watches Wyll and Gale play a game of lanceboard while she nurses a mug of something that smells sweet and strong.

“It doesn’t feel like you’d expect it would, does it?” he says by way of greeting.

Karlach looks up from her drink, her eyes far away, lips twisted into a frown. “What doesn’t?”

He sits down beside her, on the extreme edge of the couch. “Revenge.”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.” She sighs. “What did it feel like for you?”

He swallows and looks away. He’s done a good job of not thinking about this, grateful for the many things that need doing that keep them all so busy. He doesn’t know if he really wants to name it, to risk giving these feelings real power outside of his own head. But somehow, he wants Karlach to know she’s not alone more. “Grief.”

Karlach doesn’t speak for a long time, hands twisting around her mug. She is almost never truly still. Finally, she wipes at one of her eyes, in a move that could be mistaken for simply scratching her nose. “Yeah. That fits.”

Astarion still isn’t quite sure what it was he was grieving anyway, but for Karlach it’s clear: her freedom, ten years of her life stolen from her. Karlach is better than most and she’s spending her last days trying to save a world that never cared about her. In his less generous moments, and of those there are many, he tells himself that ten years is nothing . Certainly not compared to two hundred. But he’s free now, and he has an eternity of immortality stretching out before him, assuming they survive everything else. And Karlach will die because someone stole her heart and now she’s bound to the hells. It’s really fucking unfair.

“I wish I could tell you that dying wasn’t so bad, but my experience has been quite…specific….I’m sorry.” He is surprised by how much he means it. How much he wishes he could change her fate. Is this what friendship is? It hurts more than he expected it would.

Karlach leans forward elbows braced on her knees, shoulders caved in. “Yeah. This just kind of sucks, you know?”

“It does…” He’s not sure what else to offer; he’s not sure that there is any comfort he can give. “I was trying to think of something more profound to say, but no. It just ‘kind of sucks’.” He is not Liv, and he does not have promises to give Karlach. However he does believe that if there is a way, Liv will find it. “You deserve better.”

Karlach’s eyes look up to the ceiling as she nods. “Yeah, so many do.” She turns to look at him, orange eyes filled with gratitude. “But…thank you.”

But he hasn’t given her anything. His confusion must show on his face because she smiles, and carefully, slowly reaches a hand up, and lets it hover over his shoulder. She hesitates, waiting to see if he’ll move away. He doesn’t, and heat radiates from the contact, warm and comforting and inviting.

“I appreciate the check-in, Astarion.” The words are infused with her usual energy, even if it does feel a bit half-hearted.

Astarion stands then, her hand falling lightly away. Something about this all feels too close, too kind of him. He straightens, determined to infuse this situation with more of his usual prickly humor. “We need you in your best fighting shape. With Halsin gone, who else is large enough to shield me?”

Karlach doesn’t laugh, but instead gives him a knowing look before taking a big drink. “Sure thing, soldier.”

He tells himself he’s not retreating by leaving that sunken area, that he’s looking for Liv, but it’s really just chance that he runs into her. She’s heading for the doors that lead downstairs with Gortash’s ledger in hand.

“Going somewhere?” he asks.

Liv looks nervous, unsure. “Uh…just downstairs.”

“For?”

She holds up the book she’d taken from Gortash’s safe earlier in the day as she opens the double doors. “Percy is coming to get this.”

It’s clear that she doesn’t want to have this conversation, but that’s exactly why they probably should. He follows her without hesitation. “And you’re just going to give it to him?”

She pauses in the hallway, and he watches her take a deep breath before she turns. “Yes.”

Astarion stares at her in disbelief. “You have leverage over half of the noble houses in this city in that little book, and you’re just going to give it away? Are you serious?”

She nods.

Is she mad? They need allies. She could manipulate anyone she wanted into helping their cause, into doing so many things. He’s sure that there’s quite a large number of people in that book whose dealings with Gortash they would do anything to keep quiet. And she’d just hand it off to her brother?

“Think about the possibilities here, I beg of you. You don’t have to do anything with this information tonight or even before we figure out how to take on the elder brain, but don’t just give it away.”

Liv shakes her head. “I’m not giving it away.”

“You are though. You are aware that you don’t owe him a damn thing, right?”

“He gave us information. He helped us.”

Astarion shakes his head. “No, he helped himself. He knows you. Knows that you’d do exactly this because he asked for your help . He lost nothing telling us information we’d likely find out another way anyway.”

“I don’t think he’s what I thought he was.”

Damn her trust, her belief in people who don’t deserve it. Not everyone is going to rise up to her expectations. Not everyone has a better version of themselves. Not everyone wants to be better.

“Sometimes I can’t tell if you give people the chance to take advantage of you because you genuinely believe that they won’t or because you don’t think you deserve better.” He wants to take the words back the moment they’ve left his lips. Not because they’re incorrect, but because he’s not sure he’s allowed to say any of it and still keep her at his side.

Her brows furrow and she shakes her head. “That’s not…that’s not what this is.”

He almost wants to laugh. That’s exactly what this is. Liv is his favorite person in all the realm, and that realization alone has brought with it its own sort of terrifying exhilaration. Because he knows her. Knows her better than himself. He knows that she’s quick to smile and defaults to politeness when she’s uncomfortable. He knows that she sees the bad in the world, but desperately wants to believe the best of it anyway. And he knows her instinct to offer something to everyone she meets is borne from a bone-deep fear that if she doesn’t, she has no value.

Whether she intends it or not, offering her brother that ledger from Gortash’s office isn’t about keeping her word; it’s about giving away the only thing that she perceives her brother as wanting, and then seeing what happens next. It’s an invitation for hurt, but at least it is a pain she can expect. Gods, he can’t even say he blames her. He’d done the same thing after meeting that blood merchant in Moonrise. Still, he’s not sure how to tell her any of this. How to show her these pieces of herself without it feeling like meanness, the words sharp enough to cut.

It has been a long time since he has questioned her, pushed back against a decision. It has never been this personal, and he doesn’t know how it will go. But he loves her and he’s tired of watching her take herself apart piecemeal for people who don’t deserve it.

He reaches for her hand with gentle fingers he hopes cushions the blow of what he’s about to say. “You keep giving people the opportunity to wound you and calling it kindness. You owe him nothing, and giving him this book won’t change who he is or was.”

She remains fixed on their interlocked fingers for a long time. When she finally looks at him, her eyes are filled with pain. “I just want to believe him when he says he’s going to take them down because…I don’t think I have it in me.” Her breath stutters, eyes glistening.

“They deserve to pay for what they did to you,” Astarion says. For making her feel small, for making her believe that she wasn’t worth time or energy or space. He hates them for that.

“And then what? It doesn’t bring my sister back. It doesn’t fix my childhood. It doesn’t change that I loved them and they never loved me. It won’t change a damn thing! I can’t get what Karlach said today out of my head. I can’t make them sorry, Astarion.”

He knows she’s right, but he wants her to be wrong. “You don’t know what your brother is going to do with it. He might protect them. I watched you, that day at the Audience Hall. I saw the way their indifference affected you. It was like you weren’t there. I never want to see that happen to you again.”

She had gone so distant, and it had scared him. She is always so perfectly put together, never caught off guard for long. But that day, something inside of her had broken off and rattled around all day long.

“And I don’t want to spend any more of my life thinking of them or making decisions because of them. I��m going to give this book to Percy before I lose my nerve, and then….I’m done. Whatever happens, happens.”

For her, that will be far easier said than done. Astarion still isn't happy that she's just going to hand the book over, but he supposes that if Percy turns out to be a shit, then he wouldn't feel very bad about killing him. “Alright. Do you want me to go with you?”

She shakes her head. “No. I think I need to do this alone.”

He brings their interlocked hands up to his mouth, and presses a kiss against her knuckles. “Just cast a fireball through the floor if there’s an emergency.”

She snorts, and smiles a little. It’s not enough, but it’ll do for now. “I’ll try to avoid emergencies of that type.”

“I’m sure the owners will appreciate that.”

“I heard you. I promise,” she says as she steps away. And then he lets her go where he cannot follow.

***

She heads for the stairs, waiting to hear the door shut to their rooms before she leans heavily against the wall, sucking down deep breaths and letting everything Astarion just said wash over her. It’s not that she’s afraid of him seeing any of this, of the vulnerability, or the weakness. It’s just that she needs a moment alone - alone - in ways she hasn’t been since they got to the city. It’s far more convenient to stay here at the Elfsong, and she’s missed sleeping in a real bed. But she can only seem to snatch pockets of isolation. She just needs to think.

For so long she used to tell herself that the entire world wasn’t her room, wasn’t her estate, wasn’t this loneliness that threatened to eat her from the inside. And now that she’s here, surrounded by friends and love and people, she craves isolation. She needs a moment where she can just be, and no one will see. Where she can break down, for herself only and then pick up her own pieces.

Astarion isn’t wrong. She offers everything she can, convinced that if she has nothing to give that no one will stick around. And logically, she knows now it’s not true. That her friends care about her not what she can do for them, but that fear still lurks, still whispers in the darkness. She cannot give it space now though. There will be time later, space for her to think about all of this. But for now, she simply needs to go and meet her brother and wash her hands of all of this.

The Elfsong is busy tonight. There is music and dancing and games. Liv catches snippets of conversation celebrations, speculations, and the inexhaustible variety of people’s lives. She feels so small in this room, surrounded by all of these strangers. There’s something kind of beautiful about it. She sits down at a table in the corner, in a place of relative quiet, and watches the people around her in their merriment.

When Percy sits down across from her, she is pulled back from the buzz of people, from the din of voices, to this table, this moment. He brings with him two mugs of ale, which was probably wise, they’ll draw attention if they’re not drinking in a tavern.

“You look tired,” he says.

She could say the same about him. He’s dressed just as finely as the night before, but there are deep bruises beneath his eyes as if he didn’t sleep at all. “It was a long day.”

“Everyone is talking about Gortash’s death,” Percy says as he takes a drink.

Liv nods. “Yeah. About that…” She reaches into her lap, and pulls out the ledger she found in Gortash’s safe. “Here.” She slides it across the table.

Percy stares at it but doesn’t pick it up. “What do you want for it?” He’s watching her closely.

“You already gave me the information we wanted, which was not a great negotiation strategy if you really wanted me to keep my end.”

“And yet here we are,” Percy smiles, pulling the book closer to him. Perhaps, Astarion was right; Percy knew she’d do this. But he surprises her by cocking his head. “You really don’t want anything else?”

“I have some questions I’d like to ask, but there is no expectation. The book is yours either way.”

Percy stares at her for a moment. “That is fairer than I deserve. Ask your questions.”

“How long…how long have you been…this? Working against them?” This is the question that has haunted her. That there might have been more allies in that house than she ever knew, and why didn’t she know? How could she have not realized?

He leans forward, elbows on the table, voice pitched low enough not to be overheard. “I’ve always hated Dad. There was an incident once, at a party. He was showing me off, making me perform for his friends. Gods, you would’ve been three years old maybe? I messed up, and his magic came for me. I think he was honestly surprised when people were horrified.

“I got sent away to Cormyr for almost four years after that so that all the gossip could calm down. When I got back, my plan was always to unseat him. To reign victorious over him and Cressida. I worked at it for a long time, until the night that..uh…” He looks supremely uncomfortable, and shifts in his chair. “Until that night.”

She knows he’s referring to Brelia’s death. It was never spoken of, even in the immediate aftermath. Her family had been so good at avoiding it, that sometimes Liv wondered if Brelia’s death had happened only to her.

“I watched them bury it, use their wealth and power and connections to cover the whole thing up. And I realized that I didn’t want to be him anymore.”

“So you joined the Guild?” Liv asked, trying to piece it all together to rearrange this person she thought she knew into the man across from her.

Percy laughs and takes another drink. “No, I got my ass captured by the Guild after a monthslong spree of drinking and gambling and trying to spend as much of the family money as I could.”

“You seem pretty cozy with them now.”

He grins. “You know what’s better than a noble you can buy off? One who actually believes in your cause.”

“So what? You joined the Guild and what? Became a good guy?”

Percy shrugs. “The Guild isn’t good, but Nine-Fingers has a vision and wants to take care of the people who have been looked down on for too long. She’s got a code. Which is more than I can say for our father.”

Still, there is something bothering her. “You knew I was trying to undermine our parents wherever I could, but you never said anything.”

Percy goes quiet then, smile fading. He is looking anywhere but at her. “Your stunts were useful distractions. Kept our parents' attention focused elsewhere.”

Liv leans back in her chair, letting the revelation hang in the air. She could’ve had an ally in that house, but instead, he’d seen her ‘stunts’ as distractions, useful to him. She had known she’d been ineffective at fighting against her parents. They had too much power, too much influence. She’d been going about it the wrong way; she can see that now.

“Well, then. Guess that’s something.” The bitterness is evident in her words, and she wishes it wasn’t. Wishes for aloofness, for calm that seems to elude her.

Percy runs a hand down his face and sighs. “I thought about it…more than once. But Liv, you were free, freer than any of us. I…I always hoped you’d get out. And you did.”

“Free? Free of what?”

“Their fucking expectations. Gods, I was so envious of you. They didn’t expect a damn thing of you!”

And that had been the problem. She had desperately tried for years and years to get their attention, their love, their approval. Something . They had remained horribly and terribly indifferent. It would have been kinder if they had been cruel or hateful. There had been nothing personal about it. And she was left wondering what on earth she had to offer anyone at all. But she had been envious of him too, of the attention her parents had paid him. “I guess the grass is always greener.”

“And you had Brelia and Roland anyway. You didn’t need me.”

She looks at her brother then, tries to really see who is around this mask he puts on and wears about, beyond the smoke and the mirrors and the insufferability. His last words are spoken so quickly, so automatically that she wonders if it is a question or otherwise a justification. She doesn’t know him well enough to guess.

“Brelia died and Roland left. In the end, I didn’t have anyone. It would have been nice to have not been alone.”

He shakes his head. “Nothing good lasted in that house.”

Liv can’t help but agree. “It didn’t.”

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry. For all of it.”

She’s dreamed of hearing these words from her family, for them to know and acknowledge the things done to her, the crimes committed. But she is surprised at how much she doesn’t want them from Percy. She understands now that he was just another victim of that house, of her parents. His suffering was different from hers so she didn’t see it.

“You don’t have to…”

Percy leans forward again again, looking utterly lost. “No, I owe you…we could…I don’t know…”

She wants nothing he might offer her out of guilt. And Astarion’s warning snags in her mind. “You know, Percy, I didn’t want a relationship with the person I thought you were, and I don’t know that I want a relationship with the person you are now. So…maybe this would just be easier for us both if we just let go of all expectations. You don’t owe me anything.” And she doesn’t owe him anything either.

The severing hurts worse than she expects. The relief in Percy’s eyes hurts more. And just like that, she’s cut loose the last connection to her family. Maybe after this is all over, she might have the time to figure this all out, to understand who her brother is and if she still wants him in her life, but she is not guaranteed an after. And she knows this: that she has had enough disappointment and heartbreak in her life when it comes to family; she does not need more.

Percy just nods, eyes fixed on his mug. “Yeah, alright. I…uh…thank you for your help.”

She stands then, her own mug utterly untouched. “I hope it’s enough.”

“Me too.”

She turns then, to head for the stairs when she hears him call her name. She turns back, and it’s still odd, to see her brother here.

“Don’t die.”

Nine-Fingers is well-informed enough that he should know what exactly they’re up against, how the odds are so far stacked against them. But they’ve made it this far, so who’s to say? She offers him a smile she doesn’t particularly feel. “I’ll try.”

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x liv #for once astarion isn't the one having the worst time #bright lost things #slothquisitorwrites

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