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Lehari’s footsteps dusted over the ledge of the window and landed softly on the cobblestone floor as she gathered her cloak behind her, tucking herself in the shadows in an attempt to blend into the thick velvet curtains. Gortash had his back to her, taking leisurely sips of a dark amber liquid, legs spread wide in the chair he was sitting in, seemingly to exude the imposing nature of a man of his stature.
Lehari could hear his deep breathing through the thick veil of silence, not having changed upon her entrance into his chambers. They were ragged - almost savage, much unlike anything she’d seen from him in their public encounters. His inauguration was a grand spectacle, one that would’ve completely enraptured her, had she been unaware of his true identity – the chosen of Bane.
She was loath to admit it, but there was something grand about the ceremony and how he’d captured the attention and respect of the city’s nobility, assembling them in Wyrm’s Crossing to witness his ascent into power. It was difficult to believe that such a man carried himself with such confidence once lay powerless under the control of an archdevil.
The first slice came from Gortash, breaking the silence with his husky voice, “I would hardly believe you to be the same person I’d met all those years ago – let alone Bhaal’s assassin. Though, it seems you’re still woefully unequipped to sneak up on me. Orin may have taken your memory, but in an ironic turn of events, it appears your weaknesses are very much still intact.”
The disguised form she’d used washed over her, letting her natural black tresses fall over her shoulders, framing her face in darkness. It wasn’t that her being noticed startled her – rather, it was knowing he was aware of her, and was finally addressing her without the burden of her companions’ presence.
He took advantage of her silence to continue, turning to face her as he spoke, “What did you think of my coronation? To think, all of our plans are finally coming to fruition.” His eyes brightened as they met hers. “And you’re here to witness it.”
“I’m not here to accept your proposal. We’ll never be allies – I couldn’t do that to Karlach.”
Gortash scoffed, “Dearest, don’t be daft. You’ve done far worse than anything I’ve ever done to our tiefling friend. And to reduce our bond to simply being allies? You were very nearly unable to resist your carnal urges around me, even at your strongest. I have you in my grip now, don’t I? You sought me out like a thief in the night, separated from your companions. Don’t tell me that you’re only here to deny my offer.”
“It’s not who I am now,” her hands curled into fists at her side, barely concealing how they shook – though Lehari wasn’t sure if it was out of rage or fear. Fear of him being right, and that she was just as bad as he suggested. Fear that she would crumble at his very touch. It was difficult to deny the warmth beginning to pool between her legs from the implication of his words. “I’ve changed, Lord Gortash.”
She saw him wince from having been addressed so formally. It was hardly noticeable, but the harsh candlelight on his face betrayed his emotion, revealing a fraction of the grief he carried with him out of sight of the common folk and from her. Although her memories were still fragmented, only pieces of a puzzle that she was still unable to connect, her prior emotions seemed intact, especially when it came to the archduke.
Gortash pushed off of his chair, staggering towards her until her back was against the wall as Lehari tried to retreat. His movements were less graceful from inebriation but no less authoritative and no less intimidating. Straightening her spine, she tried to match his height ineffectually as he towered over her, tilting her chin up to meet his eyes.
Letting out a sigh, he pressed his forehead against her as he murmured into her skin. “Since your… disappearance, Orin has seen to torturing me with the hope of your return. I was certain this had to be another one of her tricks, but I don’t believe she’d readily admit to being anything other than the trained killer I’d grown to… be fond of.”
“The whole heroism act is still unfamiliar to me, but I’ve grown in other ways, too. My choice of bedfellows has certainly changed,” Lehari fought to keep her voice steady, lightly pressing her palms against his chest to push him away.
He traced her face with his nose, his hot breath thawing her skin that was chilled by the nighttime air. There was a certain lilt in his voice as he spoke, “So you do remember…” There was a hint of amusement, but his sentiments dripped in desperation.
“Hardly enough to warrant this sort of greeting,” she groaned as his lips ghosted her neck, feeling her cheeks flush. “Please… I can’t do this with you.”
He grumbled, pulling away from her but kept a firm grip on her sides. “As pragmatic as you were despite your urges, it was nowhere near as frustrating as now. Worried your companions will hear of your dalliances?” His eyes narrowed, “Or have you found someone else – another cock to warm?”
“With all these questions, I’d think you’re the one with fractured memories. How many times must I remind you that I’m not your assassin?” She spat out the word like it was poison on her tongue, as if decades of bloodlust and viscera could be erased with her disdain. “We may share a body, but you’re owed nothing – not from me. As far as you’re concerned, she died a long time ago – stuck inside a nautiloid pod and crying out your name as her fingers broke from trying to break free from her glass coffin.”
“We promised not to meddle in one another’s affairs,” the excuse sounded weak as it left his lips, and a jolt of shame ran through him. “I believed you to be dead – it was hard to refute when Orin gifted me your dagger – the weapon used cruelly against you in your demise.”
His guilt quickly morphed into bitterness as his face darkened, “It was your carelessness that has brought us to this point, lover. You misjudged the extent of your sister’s jealousy. It isn’t lost on me that our relationship had something to do with it – you lost your edge towards the end, but your wretched kin is incorrigible. There is no leashing her, and it is futile trying to get her to listen to reason. And you thought to abandon me – letting your guard down, practically begging to be cast out amongst the rest of the thralls.”
His grip on her tightened, his nails carving crescent moons into her skin, lazy streams of crimson running down her arms. Her words came out softly, “You’re hurting me.”
His words were drowned out in the growing pain, his bruising grip on her worsening as his anger rose. The corners of her vision grew fuzzy. “Enver!”
All at once, he softened upon hearing his name, the harshness washing away from his face, making him look younger as the creases in his face smoothed. The venom tinging his words was gone as he cleared his throat, “I apologize. I should know now that you’re not invincible like I once believed you to be. After Orin stole you from me…” He trailed off. “It was so simple to think of you as untouchable, an unstoppable force that no one need reckon with, not even myself.”
Even though the assassin that was known to him was gone, he couldn’t stop the stutter of his heart upon hearing his name on her lips. How many nights had he grieved in the privacy of his quarters, praying that he could hear her voice one more time? His devotion had never faltered, but he wasn’t sure of the strength of his resolve if someone dangled in front of him what he coveted most. Her.
Her eyes flitted down to avoid his gaze and fell to his hands, speckled in red, dried blood that crusted his nails. “You’re covered in blood,” Lehari murmured.
Gortash chuckled, “Yes, dearest. I’m not sure why that’s shocking to you.”
She looked at the sharp angles of his hand, the prominent veins pulsing, and noticed how soft his hold on her felt, even with his calloused skin. She pictured taking his hand in hers, raising it up to her mouth, allowing his fingers to hook under her lip so she could taste his musk and let the stale metallic taste of blood coat her tongue.
Meeting his eyes once again, she shuddered when he shot her a knowing look. It was unsettling to consider that he knew of her urges better than she. Even if he had known of her thoughts, he gave no indication of it in his next words.
“I couldn’t help but picture you as my steel watch sliced through the city’s patriars, cutting them to ribbons. It looked like a massacre, far from the handiwork of Bhaal’s chosen. Each death had purpose, each corpse was a work of art. There’s nothing – nobody that could match up to you.”
It felt as though two sides of her were fighting for dominance; one was aroused by his praise of her past kills. Standing at the precipice of her redemption, Lehari swallowed down the bile rising in her throat as memories of rotting flesh and blood flooded her mind.
“Tell me there isn’t a part of you that misses it… that there isn’t a part of you that misses me.”
His hands slipped under the waistband of her trousers, his restraint pulling taut, held together by the thinnest cord. “Let me have you.”
“Enver,” she echoed. He never thought her capable of such tenderness, and he would be lying if he said it didn’t intrigue him. He was strong-willed and ruled with an iron fist, but she tore through his walls with one word. Two syllables were enough to take her — to have her the way he should’ve when he’d first laid eyes on her after her disappearance.
The iciness of his gauntlet against the warm flesh of her waist brought her back to her senses, and she began to break from his hold with more resolve than before. “Let go of me!” This wasn’t what she’d come here for! She came to strike him down – to learn about her past and slit his throat before he could unsheath his weapon.
But if that were true, why did her chest tighten so painfully when she thought of his corpse cooling as his lifeblood spilled from him?
A flash of hurt passed over his face before he scowled, and he forced his body against hers, his lips seeking hers as her head turned away from him to deter his advances. He was ravenous with desire, his metal-tipped fingers digging into her chin as he snapped her head back to face him. Her lips were pursed tightly, but he still sought her out with the determination fitting for the chosen of Bane.
His breathing was shallow and warm, and he twisted his free hand in her hair, tugging it back painfully to position her at a better angle. Taking advantage of her surprise, he decidedly took what he believed to be his, finally capturing her mouth with his.
His mouth tasted of whiskey, sharp and fiery as his tongue brushed against hers. His movements weren’t hurried but were filled with a desperate yearning that somehow felt more intense. He whispered against her mouth in between breaths, “There’s more of her in you than you’d like to believe – I can feel my bloodthirsty assassin lurking below this facade of yours. I can see it in your eyes, the desire to hurt me – to bruise and scrape my flesh.”
His eyes glazed over, though Lehari wasn’t sure if it was from drink or arousal. He was a mess of a man – this much was obvious now from his unkempt hair to the dark bags under his eyes. He was wounded by her disappearance, but her sudden reappearance didn’t get rid of the pain like he thought it would. He heard her screams each night when he hoped sleep would claim him peacefully. But each night ended the same – with him sitting upright in bed, his hair clung to his forehead with sweat as he looked at the empty half of the bed.
She kneed his groin as his hands loosened their tyrannical hold on her. With a swiftness that surprised even her, she pushed against his chest one final time, catching him off balance before he toppled to the ground, catching her elbow and bringing her down with him. Her blade rested against his neck before he regained control of his surroundings.
He felt his adam’s apple bob as he laughed, a wicked grin stretching across his face. The dagger bit into his skin, a thin line of blood spreading across his throat, but his arousal didn’t wane. “Ah, there it is! Let your urge come out to play, dearest. We may not be good for one another, but gods, we are good together. Be my partner once again – my equal.”
Her mouth watered at the sight of her bloodstained dagger. Raising it to her mouth, her lips parted, and she let her tongue glide against the flat of the blade, feeling her body shudder as a wave of ecstasy rushed through her and rested between her legs.
Her thoughts were clouded as the urge fought to take hold, but she forced the words out between her heavy panting, “Just… allies – nothing more.”
“Hmm, what stops us – allies – from seeking pleasure where we can find it?”
“You know why.”
“No one need know. It can be our secret – just as it was before Orin discovered us, but I know you’ll see to her removal, won’t you?” he cooed as his hands found purchase on her waist, guiding her body against his leg.
Lehari needed minimal encouragement before her hips began to rut into his thigh, drawing sharp breaths from her lips. “Then take me, tyrant .”
Removing the clothes separating their feverish bodies, she felt his cock rub against her leg as they kissed. Soon his mouth drew from hers, finding its way to the crook of her neck and then down her chest to her navel. He held her waist reverently as he lowered himself between her legs, his eyes half-lidded as they met hers.
He pressed soft kisses against her thigh, feeling her skin rise from the stimulation. Slowly, he moved to the warmth of her core, letting the scent of her essence wash over him. His gauntlets dug into her skin as he went to kiss her there, letting hot breath flare through his nostrils. He circled her clit with his tongue tentatively, a whisper of a touch that had her bucking her hips into his face.
He sank the tips of his gauntlets into her flesh, hooking them in place and forcing her to comply under her hold. Gortash chuckled, his breath tickling her skin and making her squirm. He pressed the sharp metal deeper into her thighs, but his authoritative voice cut off her whines. “Be still, you wicked… beautiful… creature,” each word punctuated with his tongue swirling around her folds before settling on her clit where he began to suck heartily.
His chin was slick from her arousal when he met her eyes once more, reveling in how they were glazed over in pleasure. So much of her was gone, carved out of her brain — lost to the ruins of time, but one thing that hadn’t changed was how her body reacted to his touch.
Lehari took his earnestness for smugness, feeling fire rage beneath her skin as she moved to straddle his lap. She took him in as she looked down, finding the changed face of a man once familiar to her. The strong nose of a man who’d had it broken one too many times — perhaps, by her hand sometimes. She let her fingertips graze the sharp, indented scar on his chin, setting her skin aflame as she considered its origin.
Enver took her hand in his, bringing it back up to brush the scar, and let his eyes close as she touched him almost reverently. As if she could bring back a decade’s worth of memories by recommitting his scars to memory, awakening moments of them deep in the heat of battle together, or her caught in his unyielding embrace.
His eyes shot open when he felt a sharp sting on his chin, his old wound nicked open by her sharp nails. Before he could let slip a word of protest, her head dipped, her tongue swiping across his stubbly skin to stem the bleeding.
An indiscernible wave of arousal and panic washed over Enver as Lehari clenched her thighs against his sides and locked his head in her hands. Even if she wasn’t aware of it, he knew her control was slipping from her.
He mumbled, tilting his head back in a futile attempt to disrupt her focus, “Enough, Lehari.” Her vicious humming drowned out his protests as she went to squeeze his balls, harder and harder still, until he began to whimper. It was all he could do before she resumed rolling her hips into him, leaving his cock longing for more and his balls aching in need of relief.
She enjoyed seeing Enver writhe beneath her, but the friction was hardly enough to satisfy her yearning. As the heat coiling low in her groin began to drip down her thighs, the emptiness gnawing at her grew more apparent by the minute.
“Don’t I have a cock to warm?”
Lehari groaned as his hands snaked around her waist, guiding her hips as she slid onto his cock. Her core squeezed around it in recognition, drowning out everything else as he bottomed out. Her eyes were blown wide as they met his, filled with the same hunger he recognized from before. It was the closest she’d come to her former self since their reunion.
His gauntlets toyed between her legs as she began to ride him, and he allowed the sharp tips to press into her clit a little harder than she’d normally allow, but it was hard to find restraint when he could just press a little harder — dig a little deeper — to allow her to come back to him.
Muffled cries coupled with the rhythmic pounding against glass meant to withstand repeated assaults stung his ears. The strikes began to dull, fading from sharp blows to squelching thuds as the bones in her knuckles shattered.
If he didn’t see her, it couldn’t be real. He could dismiss the sound of her voice easily enough, write it off as the work of a shape changer — another illusion from Orin. If he didn’t see the defeated look of betrayal in her eyes, it wouldn’t be her.
Better to remember her as a blood-thirsty assassin that frequented his bed once the nighttime opened its arms out for them each night than the usurped child of a God. It’s what she would’ve wanted, to be immortalized as a vision of death, isn’t it?
It was easy enough to believe it then, when the shock held fast, but it all seemed to crumble upon his return. The nights stretched on infinitely without her, becoming a void that refused to let him move past her, to forget his loss.
If he could just press on a bit more, draw just a few more drops of blood, maybe he could bring her back. He could bring her to salvation just as he should’ve then, fucking her and loving her and ruling alongside her as they took the world for themselves.
But as he bit into the sensitive flesh, her hiss wasn’t born out of repressed desire but instead from revulsion, a deep hatred that froze him in place as she pinned his arms down at his sides.
“What is it you’re intending to do here, Gortash? So desperate to relive the past that you want to play your sick games — to hurt and maim me like I assume you used to with her?”
“There’s no harm in knowing how you used to tick,” he scoffed. “Don’t deny your enjoyment, I would hardly want to deprive you of such depraved pleasure.”
Lehari grunted, trying to squirm away before he pulled her back down onto her length, letting his arm run along hers tenderly as he spoke again. “Let’s not let one sour moment ruin our evening, shall we? You can trust me to behave from here on out.” His earnest expression loosened her muscles as she relented.
“Gods, you cocky bastard,” she hissed. “Never been told no once in your life – always afforded the pleasures life had to offer…”
“Lehari,” he warned. “Do not try to provoke me.”
She kissed him again, more fervently this time, taking his lips between her teeth before biting down, drawing a pained grunt from him. He cast her aside, looking at her while nursing his swollen lip, split and lazily bleeding. She couldn’t help the smirk that spread across her face, even as he stalked towards her, backing her against the bedpost and pinning her arms behind her.
He pushed into her without warning this time, thrusting into her with such force, making her feel as though the air had been stolen from her lungs.
“Pathetic,” she muttered. Was she referring to him? Or her weak resolve?
Her hips smacked against the wooden bedframe as he continued to drive into her, his determination laced with possession. “And yet here you are, begging to be fucked – to be owned,” he breathed heavily, speaking between thrusts.
She snarled at him as he slid out from her again, only to reposition her over the side of the bed, pushing her face into the sheets, only to bury himself deeper at the newfound angle. Her moans were muffled against the sheets, but they served to fuel his resolve.
His gauntlets dug into the side of her neck, squeezing her nape as he began to draw blood. Fury simmered, barely contained by her restraint that was slowly ceasing to exist. It was ironic – to be chastised at the hands of the man who helped shape her into the monster she’d been.
Gods, she hated him. She hated him.
Let him take her here, bruising her hips and letting her bleed without reprieve. Let him remind her of how far she’d come, only to fall again.
The sharp pinch of his claws tightened as he drove into her with one last sloppy thrust, before letting his seed spill into her. Her own release soon followed, crashing into her and dulling the guilt and self-loathing.
“Worried your companions after out searching for you?”
She resisted the urge to scoff, “No, I suppose I’ve gotten used to this life – living with others, surrounded by people and conversation. Even when I was alone, it was never quiet.” She gestured with her chin, lifting it from his chest. “Here, it feels like a separate world – just you and I.”
“ You and I… ” Enver mused. “You won’t be burdened with that life for much longer. It’ll be as we envisioned – us ruling the Gate together – above them all. And we needn’t stop there – our domination will span across Faerun, with you as my sword to be wielded against our foes.”
Lehari shot up in surprise, meeting his smug grin. “You still wish to dominate the brain? After all of this – all of the tactical failures and oversights – why not just save the city? You’d still be applauded as a hero!”
“It’s in our nature, dearest.” His cold metal fingers ran down her spine as he gave her a sympathetic glance. “To kill, to rule… We weren’t built for heroics. And to refuse our gods would be our demise.”
“And what of my companions – are they to be handled by you and your Steel Watch?” she seethed.
“Oh, Lehari… They’ll hardly be missed – a few vagrants destined to become thralls. Don’t be naive, you know they wouldn’t be keen to let us take the city by storm, especially our dear Karlach.”
Enver ran his hand through her hair, and she sighed blissfully, realizing how easily she gave into his touch, how easy it all came to her. Though she’d become a more restrained version of her old self, it was the closest she felt to life before the nautiloid crash.
She pictured how simple life would be without the gaps in her memory if all those precious years hadn’t been carved out of her skull. It all seemed within her grasp with him, to recall those years spent together.
But with their relationship, memories of bloodshed and death would inevitably follow. Her stomach churned at the thought. Waking up to blood-soaked hands and flesh beneath her fingernails when she’d killed that poor bard had rattled her enough. Had there been dozens of tragic victims before her? Hundreds? She had been quick to flee her newfound morals for the comfort of Gortash’s bed, so perhaps it would be just as easy to return to a life of killing.
“You’re right – there is no happy ending for us,” the words came out choked.
“You mustn't say that, dearest. Our happiness is simply of the less conventional kind.”
“You mean tyranny and death?”
“As a means to gain order and power, those are necessary evils – for lack of a better term,” he sighed as he spoke. “As we live and breathe, the city will never have more steadfast leaders, dedicated wholly to our gods and their wills. Now, are any other moral quandaries eating away at you or can we rest before the sun rises?”
Lehari gave a half-hearted nod and felt his weight sink into the bed as he finally let sleep take hold of him. Though her guard was down, she felt no less alert – no less fearful. She realized it wasn’t necessarily him whom she feared but rather them as a joint entity.
By himself, Gortash was a cunning politician who had no qualms about taking advantage of others to further his pursuits. By herself, she wasn’t a cold-blooded killer, but she wasn’t able to deny the atrocities that always seemed to follow her. And together, the possibility of peace seemed a distant prospect.
Almost subconsciously, her hand slipped beneath his pillow, feeling the sharp edge of a blade that he always kept tucked away for protection – just another half-revealed memory of him that surfaced at a bitterly opportune moment. The hilt slipped between her fingers as she slid it out from under his head.
Undisturbed from his slumber, Lehari angled the dagger above his heart, stifling the pained sounds seeking to escape her throat. With his eyes shut and the weight of the world washed from his face, the burden of what she was about to do weighed heavily on her shoulders.
She hung onto the warmth of his body, trying to revel in the warmth for just a while longer as she let the knife bite into his skin. It met no resistance as it pierced his flesh and took hold of his heart. His eyes, no longer heavy with sleep, met hers as he caught her wrist.
“Lehari,” he hissed. He froze as his emotions quickly morphed from shock to anger, eventually settling on betrayal. His grip on her didn’t relent, binding both of their hands to the hilt of the blade.
“There was only one way for this to end,” she croaked. “Villains don’t get happy endings.”
For so long, she’d been intimately familiar with death. She knew how long it’d take for someone with this type of wound to bleed out. She knew the look in one’s eyes when death swept them away – how they’d glaze over with any semblance of life gone.
All of the comfort that endings had brought her was gone in that moment; there was only the bitter air surrounding them and their throats burning to say words that would remain unsaid.
“You did what you came here for, then. I’m sure your companions will be satisfied with you,” there was a bitter edge to his voice. “Get on with it then.”
He tore the dagger from his chest, and Lehari couldn’t help but watch as the fresh cavity filled with blood and spilled down his torso.
His eyes widened as she tilted the blade up in her hands before letting it pierce her own skin.
“You foolish woman, what are you doing ?” he bristled, fighting ineffectually against her as she continued to plunge it deeper into her heart. The muscles in his arms were beginning to go slack as the world around him began to blur.
“This will be our penance,” she tried to push down the pain in her voice. “We’ve made our way back to one another, and for that, I’ll always be grateful, but there is no life for us. There will be no peace under our rule – no happiness.”
“After everything I’ve done – after all I’ve risked – this is how I’m to be repaid?”
“I can’t think of anything more poetic – the cost of lives we’ve taken paid for with our own flesh and blood. It’s better this way, isn’t it?”
“Let’s not let our final moments be spent speaking in falsities. You and I both know what awaits us on the other side for our mortal failings.”
Seeds of regret found their way to her, sowing questions filled with doubt deep within her, plaguing her final moments. It was all so ridiculous – it was only that morning when she’d been laughing amongst friends and anxiously planning their next moves. Would they mourn her, or relinquish all ties to her – the pathetic cast-off, the broken Bhaalspawn?
She knew there would be no more intimate gatherings by the campfire or playful banter. All that awaited her was darkness – something that’d become something of a security blanket for her would be turned against her for her failings.
Her head felt light as she came back into her body, feeling Enver’s weakening hold of her and seeing the dark soulfulness of his eyes beginning to dim.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, touching her forehead to his. “I never wanted this for you – for us.”
“You finally managed to sneak up on me. You have changed,” his smile was weak but no less tender as his focus drifted off. His lips met hers in an unwilling goodbye. “Still my nearest and dearest.”
He coughed up a mixture of blood and spittle, little flecks of crimson dotting her face. His face paled, his warm skin turning ashen as his body went limp.
The tears flowed freely now as she clung onto his body, pressing herself as close to him as she could - as if her proximity could bring him back - as if holding onto him tightly would keep him from being taken away.
Her vision went next, trapping her in darkness as she anchored herself to his cooling body. She remained like that until her veins ran dry, until her heart beat its last, and Bhaal claimed her as his own.
