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“Think about it, Gortash. The Elder Brain resisting and trying to break free now is only the beginning. Even if you do succeed with your ‘Grand Design’ now and rule the Sword Coast under the farce of the Absolute you created, there is no guarantee the brain won’t try to break free again. A Nether Brain, Gortash. The threat is too big; it’s not worth your tyranny. Sooner or later, you’ll too bend to it—and I doubt Bane will take kindly to that.” You ended your speech on a gasp.

Karlach was fuming, gnashing her teeth and clenching her fists. She was burning up—the carpet to her feet was already smoking. Gortash shot her a taunting glance before redirecting his attention back to you.

When you first arrived at Baldur’s Gate and received an audience with the city’s first archduke, you expected carnage, insults and murder. Instead…instead you’d found yourself getting pierced by fragments of your past. You knew this man. You shared a past—and after he explained to you just what you had done to achieve the panic you now saw in the streets…you shivered.

Bygones. This you was in the past. Bhaal had no more control over you. Orin was dead, and so was any remaining linkage with the God of Murder. You had helped them all to be better: Gale, who had realised that taking the Netherese Crown for himself would result in corruption rather than pure godhood, Astarion, who had relinquished all the power the profane rite of ascension would have bestowed upon him, Shadowheart, who had forsaken Shar and turned back to the light, Karlach…

Yes, Karlach. She hated this as much as she hated Gortash—and you couldn’t blame her for it. She deserved to cleave her axe into him, but something…something had made you hold her back.

You needed him. If you were going to stand any chance against the brain, Gortash and his Banites—and his Netherstone—were crucial in its defeat. Whatever would happen after…well, that’s what you were discussing now.

“Say I am swayed and agree with you. Then what? All that work for nothing? All the planning, all the schemes, all the hard feelings? What shall I get in return?”

“You get a head start before I kill you,” Karlach spat through gritted teeth.

Gortash put up a finger. “Ah-ah. The adults are talking, Karlach.”

“If you don’t start treating her with respect, we might as well just kill you now,” you said. And…you weren’t quite sure if you were bluffing or not.

“Alright, alright. We destroy the brain for good, and Karlach goes her merry way. I shall never bother her again—although I could use a skilled bodyguard by my side once more. In any case, this bargain is still more one-sided than anything, my dear.”

You sighed. He was right, of course. You wouldn’t want to end up with the short end of the stick either. “Fine. You’ll be granted immunity. Thanks to you, Ravenguard and his son and Florrick are dead, and there is no immediate successor. Keep your damn throne. The city won’t find out about your involvement with the Absolute, and you can remain archduke. But there will be conditions. No more Steel Watchers. If I catch you enslaving innocent gnomes again to build any monstrosities for you, the deal is off. You rule this city as you should—as a just and fair leader, not a tyrant.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Do you even hear what you’re saying? This is insane. This is Gortash we’re talking about!”

“Karlach… Karlach, I know this, alright? What other choice do we have? It’s either him as archduke or an Illithid empire, and thousands of more innocents die.”

The Tiefling growled.

“And go against my very nature?” Gortash said then as if she wasn’t even here.

“The teachings of Bane don’t follow a strict protocol. You’re a clever one, you’ve long figured this out. As long as you come out on top, it doesn’t matter how you achieve leadership.”

“I see not all knowledge of your past is lost on you.” Indeed, it wasn’t. You somehow still recalled the tenets of Bane and all that came with worshipping the god of tyranny as if he’d explained it all to you before—which, to be fair, he probably had.

“The citizens of Baldur’s Gate can fear you and rely on you for leadership all the same,” you continued, disregarding his words. “The only difference will be their freedom of speech and the right to question your methods. It’s not ideal as far as the definition of tyranny goes, but it’s all I can offer.”

He paused. For a few heartbeats, Gortash simply…stared at you with a mischievous glint in his dark eyes. “I have one more condition,” he finally said.

Did you have him? Would you strike a deal? Forcing your excitement back down, you rolled your eyes regardless. “What?”

“You stay behind. With me. When all this is over, you return to my side. Permanently.”

“R-Return permanently? What? What are you talking about?”

“We used to be quite close, you and I. You must have caught on by now that we were more than mere…partners in crime. You gave me a promise before Orin snatched you away, and you lost your memories. I intend for you to still fulfil that promise to me.” Gortash’s mouth twitched. “You see, it’s quite fascinating that you’re still wearing the ring despite not knowing its true meaning.”

He glanced down at your hand, and your gaze followed his. A delicate golden ring wrapped around your left ring finger, adorned with a black onyx and an intricate embellishment in its centre. You’d never taken it off—and never wondered where it might have come from, either. Not until now.

Never in your wildest dreams would you have imagined that it could have been an engagement ring—a promise to marry…to Gortash, of all people.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Karlach’s voice cut through his chambers like a sword.

But this time, Astarion too commented on the revelation. “Oh. Oh dear.”

Tense silence spread around you like poisonous fog. The Banites guarding Gortash to his left and right kept on looking straight ahead, seemingly minding their own business. Karlach was still heating up and about to combust, and you…you just couldn’t bring yourself to speak.

There was something there. A feeling, a tingling sensation, an itch you couldn’t scratch. An itch that had you stop Karlach from launching at Gortash before you’d even blown up the Steel Watch Foundry. You…liked him. At least, in the past, you did. You weren’t so sure now. But whatever there was, it wasn’t pure hatred or disgust.

And…if agreeing to this meant saving the lives of thousands of innocents, this was the only right thing to do. After all, you’d played a huge part in creating this monster you now called the Absolute.

“You’re not…seriously considering this, are you?” Shadowheart’s voice reached you from behind, worried and suspicious. You shook yourself, snapping yourself out of your mental misery.

“If you give me your word…and no harm comes to my companions, or the Baldurians—or any folk for that matter—and you help us… Then I will stay with you.”

Gortash smirked. “Then you have yourself a bargain, my dear.”

One month after the Elder Brain’s demise, the destruction of the Upper City and the deaths of hundreds of innocent citizens, Baldur’s Gate was finally on a journey of mending. Gortash had held his promise. He organised the rebuilding of houses, shops and monuments, and, in the same breath, quietly passed laws that put such high surveillance and control over the city’s inhabitants that you longed to wipe that damn smug smirk right off his face. He, of course, claimed it was all under the act of safety and protection—but for now, you were oathbound. A Nether Brain turning the entire Sword Coast into soulless mind flayers was the lesser evil than Bane. Perhaps not all hope was lost just yet. You’d come around, after all. You’d turned your back on Bhaal; maybe Gortash could as well. This man wasn’t evil for the mere sake of it. He was suffering just as much as you were. The shock of what you’d learned when you found his parents’ home in the Lower City by pure chance and the things Nubaldin had told you of Gortash’s life at the House of Hope…those strokes of fate bore scars.

And just like he had held his promise, so had you. After a heartfelt celebration and too many drinks at the Elfsong, you moved to Wyrm’s Rock Penthouse to fulfil your vow to Gortash.

Karlach hadn’t spoken to you since your departure. She ignored your letters too, worrying you more with each passing day. Her engine wouldn’t last much longer—and, according to Astarion’s updates, she only pretended to be fine and thriving. Shadowheart had promised to keep an eye on her too, and use all her clerical knowledge to stall the inevitable.

“Still brooding, are we?” Gortash’s steps were surprisingly quiet, but you had long gotten used to him sneaking up on you from behind. He dropped a handful of scrolls on his desk and joined you at the windowsill where you’d been people watching for the past hour.

“I don’t think they’ll ever come back, G-Enver.” He’d asked you to use his first name when you were in private, multiple times even. You still hadn’t quite gotten used to it. “My memories. At this point, I’m not even sure I want them to. So much more than just…what we had has been lost. All the murder, the carnage, the bloodshed…perhaps it’s for the best they’re all gone for good.”

“It is remarkable how you have become an entirely different person. So…good, and selfless. When you first returned to me and I saw you alive and well, I was overjoyed. Happy, even. Then you pulled the rug from under my feet with your hostility and this persistent amnesia of yours. We are truly no match by any rate anymore. Unfortunately for both of us, that doesn’t change a thing. I still want you by my side.”

You pressed your lips together into a thin line. Gortash had never directly said it, but it wasn’t exactly hard to tell that this was his way of saying ‘I love you regardless’. As he spoke, his hand came up to stroke your hair using the golden claw jewellery adorning his fingers. He often did that—he claimed he’d always like your hair. The first time it happened, though, you swatted his hand away, stunned at how he would dare touch you like that. You’d grown to enjoy it now, somehow, for beyond this surprisingly tender gesture, Gortash had never touched you against your will.

He might not have been an empath, but even he could tell how deeply unhappy you were about this arrangement. Engaged to a stranger, a tyrant who’d attempted to enslave an entire city, the tormentor and nemesis of one of your closest friends… Gortash knew you’d made a sacrifice for the greater good, and he was selfish enough not to care. But there was something else, too. There was hope. Hope that you might come to reciprocate his affections again. Hope was the cruellest tyranny of all.

“You’re wearing the dress I ordered for you,” he suddenly said.

You were. It was a long black leather dress, tight and smooth, its wide, deep and daring cleavage and sleeves adorned with real gold accents and embellishments. They were his colours—but you liked it. Very much so.

“You look ravishing.”

Your head whipped in his direction at the unexpected compliment. Perhaps you were a little too flabbergasted, even.

“What? I recognise beauty when I see it, I am a man of taste, after all. Only you could combine pretty looks with bloodlust. You used to like it, you know. The compliments, the sweet nothings, the flattery…” He paused, the tips of his claws wandering over your cheeks and leaving goose bumps in their wake. “Last week you asked me for more honesty, and who am I to deny my Bhaal-defying fiancé her wishes?” Another pause, more deliberate this time. “I do miss your warmth, you know. Your body pressed against mine, your even breath against my neck…your lips around my—”

“Enver, stop.”

“My patience is running thin, dear. That look on your face? It’s the same look you gave me after our second night together. You were utterly shocked at the pleasure my dominance could give you. I believe that was the night I realised I liked you more than a mere colleague, too. I realised you were perfect for me. Strength, dominance and submission united in a single stubborn mind.”

“Enver…” The regretful tone in your voice did not go amiss. You almost pitied him.

His dark eyes fell to your lips. He was close enough for you to smell the Wyvern Whiskey in his breath. Gortash’s next actions came too fast for you to process, let alone protest again. With but one firm motion, he wrapped his clawed hand around the back of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss.

Fire. Your mouth was set ablaze, a delightful burning sensation overwhelmed your senses and forced your eyes shut. His lips felt…good. Familiar. Right. Passionate—and they tasted like so much more.

You expected disgust, repulsion, anger…any more reasonable reaction than the urge to reciprocate and melt into his arms like you’d done times and times before. That…was that a memory? Muscle memory, nonetheless, but it was a start. Karlach would despise you even more for this.

Gortash’s kiss was gentle despite his urgency and assertiveness. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours as if he feared you would jerk away and express your revulsion. Nothing of the like happened. You stilled, basking in his closeness.

“You demanded kisses every day from that night on and murdered everyone who’d caught a glance at our shared affinity.” He frowned at your lack of response. “Still nothing, hm?”

“It’s not…nothing. But I don’t know what it is.”

Gortash straightened himself with a dismayed sigh, throwing his hands. “What is it you need me to do, hm? Have I not kept my word? Thanks to my efforts, the city is thriving, your friends are alive and well and the Nether Brain is gone. You trusted me enough to hold a blade next to you in front of the crown of Karsus, so how is it you cannot trust me now?”

“Trust…” You bit your lower lip. “Perhaps that’s exactly it, Enver. I can’t force myself to trust you. That’s not something you can demand or take; it needs to be earned. You’re right. I am a completely different person now, and that the main reason I am here has nothing to do with whatever love for you is buried deep inside of me. Too much has happened. You worship Bane of all gods. You have lied and cheated and manipulated and killed and—”

“So have you, my dear. So have you,” he snapped.

“I have. But unlike you, I regret it. With every passing day, the remorse of what I have done is eating me up from the inside out, and I just…I don’t know how to shut it off. It’s killing me. Part of me wants those feelings for you to come back, don’t you see? I am sorry I forgot you, I truly am. But it can’t be helped. Maybe this simply isn’t meant to be.”

“Isn’t meant to be? I am not letting you off on your bargain because of a meek ‘I am sorry I forgot you’. Do you think me this soft?”

You scoffed and climbed off the windowsill. “That is not what I was suggesting.”

“Then make your peace with it. Your choice has been made. Allow me to earn your trust again. Properly. We shall try and do it…your way.”

You hesitated. “How can you still earn my trust, Enver? After everything…”

He observed you for a moment, seemingly deep in thought. Then, at last, he spoke.

“I am going to fix Karlach’s engine.”

“You’re actually serious.”

“I am. Karlach is clearly important to you. And while she claims to hate me for helping her realise her full potential…I understand the state of her heart is somewhat bothersome outside of Avernus.” Gortash leaned back in his chair, fork in hand.

The chef had served dinner in the meantime. You were both seated at the long wooden table in his chambers, with him at the head and you right next to him. The chef had prepared tender meat fillets with mushroom sauce, mashed potatoes and vegetables. Your mouth watered when he filled your plate. You hadn’t eaten something this good since before the Nautiloid crash.

“Bothersome? Really? It’s going to explode any day now, Enver. That’s not bothersome, that’s quite literally life-threatening.”

“Yes, yes, dear, I wasn’t finished. I remember the model Zariel and I used for Karlach’s heart. If it’s burning up now, that must mean that the ra-gnax casement protecting her metallurgised-ised valves is clearly burning outside the maximum recommended temperature. We didn’t consider enhanced regulation back then, given she was to stay in Avernus.”

“Wow. Now that was a whole lot of technical babble. What does that mean in Common? One of the Steel Watchers said something similar to Karlach when we first arrived in the city.”

“Hm? Ah, it must have recognised her as one of its own.”

“Yes.” You blinked, waiting for him to continue.

“It means exactly what I said. The materials used for her engine were untampered with. A prototype, so to speak.”

You crossed your arms. “It also said she has an ‘obsolete’ engine that is impractical and impossible to fix.”

“From a Steel Watcher’s perspective, that may as well be right.”

“We met a weaponsmith in the Druid Grove near the Nautiloid crash site. He now has a forge in the Lower City, a Tiefling from Elturel. He was able to use Infernal Metal to somehow stabilise her engine enough for her to touch people, but he said it simply wasn’t made for existing in cooler temperatures in places outside of Avernus in the long run.”

“Ah, and you believe an amateur Tiefling weaponsmith over a skilled and experienced artificer? Leave it to me. It will take a good while of tinkering since you’ve destroyed my Foundry, but it won’t be impossible.”

He brought a piece of meat coated with mushroom sauce to his mouth. Your gaze followed the movement, reminding you of how his lips had felt against yours.

“Even if you do manage to find a way, she will never agree to let you…operate on her. You of all people.”

“Now that is where you come into play. She trusts you and believes your engagement with me was a noble sacrifice.”

“Which it was,” you interrupted smugly.

Gortash rolled his eyes. “Convince her. Tell her it’s…my wedding gift to you.”

Your heart…twisted in your chest, somehow. It jumped—jumped in a way you could only explain with excitement. It made you wonder if you’d been overjoyed at his proposal back then…

“Say, Enver…” Putting your fork down for a moment, you waited for him to reciprocate your careful staring. “Did you propose to me? What was that like? How did I react?”

Gortash let out a loud laugh. You would have mistaken it for a mocking sound if there hadn’t been a playful smirk on his lips when he spoke. “My, you’ve truly gone soft, haven’t you? I did propose to you—not in the traditional sense, you understand. It is hardly appropriate for the Chosen of Bane to go down on one knee for anyone other than the Black Lord himself.”

He took another bite of his dinner, chewing slowly on purpose. Well, two could play this game. You picked up your fork again, eating as if to show him his words wouldn’t affect you in the slightest, even when you already knew they would.

“Well, don’t tell me I didn’t warn you, dear. It was right here, at this table. We were brooding over some maps of Elturgard and Waterdeep to prepare for rebel movements or sudden attempts at invasion once word of the Absolute’s cult and influence in Baldur’s Gate would spread. It was late at night, but we often worked late. It helped you think, so you claimed. There was wine and a handful of polite disagreements…” His smirk grew wider. “I believe I told you I was going to marry you after I made you come on my cock right here on the table.”

Your eyes widened, the forkful of peas and carrots you’d just closed your mouth around entering the wrong pipe. Coughing and almost choking on your food, you dropped your cutlery and gulped down some wine.

“The sex came before any sort of affection had developed, mind you, but I learned quickly how much you admired me. That feeling did not remain…unreciprocated. I had a ring made soon after and slid it on your finger the first night you decided to stay at my penthouse for the time being. You always said it was…cleaner compared to your lair.”

Well, after seeing the Temple of Bhaal again with your own eyes and slaying Orin where she’d made herself comfortable in your stead, you couldn’t argue with that. Rancid blood and chopped off body parts everywhere, corpses decorating the walls like paintings, and bones lining the stone paths… You shuddered.

“As for your reaction…you gave me a mysterious smile. That was your way of promising yourself to me.”

“I…I found a letter at the Illithid oubliette among Balthazar’s notes. A letter from me…to Bhaal. I sought his forgiveness for…enjoying my alliance with you and vowed to murder you as soon as our plan had come to full fruition.”

Gortash waved you off. “Oh, I had no doubt about that; there are no hard feelings. But I never quite gave up hope that you would…come around. Sooner or later, all bow to Bane, dear. One way or another.”

“That’s a fight I don’t have the energy for tonight,” you said with a sigh.

He chuckled. For now, everything was said.

He wasn’t even wrong. Sooner or later, all bow to Bane, dear. One way or another. Hadn’t you? You’d accepted his pursuit for the greater good, the sake of Baldur’s Gate and its people, but Gortash had gotten his way regardless. He remained archduke, passed ridiculously strict laws and would soon hold your hand in marriage.

In a way…you had bowed to Bane. Or his Chosen at the very least.

Tossing and turning on the bed you had insisted was brought to the opposite side of the room for you to sleep in—as far away from him as possible—that sleep now wouldn’t come despite how deliciously full your belly was.

Back when you’d stayed with him before…where had you been sleeping then? Over the last couple of days, you’d been wondering that nearly constantly, even though the answer was more or less obvious.

So far, Gortash had made true what he’d suggested. Once he’d dug out the old plans for Karlach’s engine model and sent correspondence to Helsik to contact Zariel, his nose was buried in his calculations and pieces of metal twenty-four-seven.

He somehow even managed to get a hold of one of the surviving Gondians and, with your help and your promise of fair compensation, freedom and independence, took their advice on how to add the finishing touches to Karlach’s new heart.

And with every day that passed…his dedication and focus melted the thin layer of ice around your heart a little more. He truly was looking for a way to fix her. Maybe not for her sake but for yours.

You sighed, throwing off the covers. At this rate, you weren’t going to fall asleep anytime soon. It must have been way past midnight now. Tiptoeing across the room on bare feet and silently cursing the cold stone floor, you eventually stopped a few feet away from Gortash’s bed. The candles were blown out already.

“Enver? Are you asleep?”

“I am not. What is it?”

“I…I would like to try something.”

“Oh? Pray tell.”

Biting your lower lip, you approached his bed and, before you could change your mind, climbed over him until you were wedged between the wall and his warm body. Gortash stiffened visibly, but so did you.

And yet…sleeping in the same bed with him felt right and wrong both at the same time. Perhaps your heart had already made a decision. One that your brain hadn’t caught on to yet.

You slipped under the covers, deliberately turning your body towards him. This bed was too small for two people, but somehow you had a feeling this wasn’t the first time you made do. With a start, images flashed before your inner eye, of your leg draped across his hips and your head against his naked chest. Metal. He always smelled like freshly molten metal. There was also a hint of smoke and sweat. Not the most endearing scents as far as seduction went, but back then, to you, they had never failed to put your racing mind at ease. So they did now, too.

For just a brief moment, he seemed to hesitate. But then, his arm came up to wrap around your upper body, the warm gold on his fingers causing goose bumps on your skin. “Do you ever take these off?” you whispered.

“Why would I bother? You never complained before.”

“I wasn’t complaining.”

“Good.” You could practically hear his smirk in the dark. You sighed once more, scooting even closer until you were able to rest your head on his arm.

“I am grateful you’re doing this, you know. For Karlach.”

“I am not doing it for Karlach.”

“It doesn’t matter. I never even considered asking you if you could find a way to fix her heart. It seemed…a little extreme given you were the reason for her predicament in the first place.”

“But the thought crossed your mind?”

You hesitated. “It did. Only I knew Karlach wouldn’t agree. Or trust you. I’m not sure she’ll even show up.”

Last week, you had sent her another letter, explaining the situation and asking her to consider paying you a visit at Wyrm’s Rock. So far, you’d received no response. But even so…even if she truly rejected the downright remarkable new heart Gortash had built for her…he’d won yours. His commitment to the cause was all the proof you needed from him in order for him to state his true intentions for you.

Whether those intentions involved love or merely a lustful love-and-hate relationship didn’t really matter at this point. Against all reason, Gortash somehow made you happier than you were before.

The engagement ring felt heavy around your finger. You might have bowed to Bane, but perhaps you would be able to bring some good out in him, too. You had managed with yourself, after all, thanks to your friends and companions.

Lord Enver Gortash and the Dark Urge. Your eyes fell shut as you fell asleep in your Banite’s arms. Your story was far from over. Until then, there was still hope.

Epilogue

“Alright, dear, sit up. Carefully. You have a knack for rampaging, after all.” Gortash moved back, admiring his handiwork. For the past three hours, he’d been operating on Karlach’s heart on the table. A thin layer of sweat glistened on his forehead, some damp strands sticking to his face.

“Can I punch him now?”

You chuckled. “If I allow it, do you promise to keep in touch with me?”

Karlach sighed. “Soldier…you mean too much to me to break off all contact. I was angry, alright?”

“Rightfully so.”

“Yeah. But… I don’t know, this is…different. I never expected this, not gonna lie. You really are…happy, aren’t you?”

“It’s utterly insane and mad, but yes. I am. I’ll be fine, Karlach. Besides, someone has to keep him in check and make sure he doesn’t go all out on tyrannical leadership again.”

Gortash scoffed. “Are you quite done? Karlach, how does it feel?”

“I feel…good. Cooler. Like I’ll no longer combust if I sneeze or something.”

“So it worked?” you asked.

“Time will tell. The materials I used for your new engine are the same enhanced materials that were used for the Steel Watch. They are meant to operate even during the cold winter months.”

“You’re not…glowing anymore either.”

“That’s good…right?”

Gortash nodded even though the question wasn’t directed at him. “There you are then. A brand new heart for a brand new Karlach. Does this not earn me some thanks?”

Karlach growled. “It’s the least you could do after everything you’ve done to me. But…thank you,” she added, looking back over to you.

You nodded. “Do you know what that means? You no longer have to return to Avernus. You can stay. You can finally stay home, Karlach.”

You hugged her before she had even finished processing your words, right there on the table. She almost lost the leather wrap you’d handed her to protect her modesty while Gortash replaced her heart.

“I…I can. Thank you, soldier. Love you.”

You let go of her, tears swimming in both your eyes. And as Karlach climbed off the table to get dressed, you turned to face Gortash, grabbed him by the collar of his black, laced shirt, which he still couldn’t tie properly and kissed him until you ran out of breath.

“I love you for that. Thank you, Enver.”

“You’re welcome, dear. Now, tell your barbaric friend to scram. I need a bath.”

You smiled, pressing your lips together to a thin line. Your core clenched, anticipation building in the pit of your stomach. What if you…hypothetically…

“Wait for me. I’ll see Karlach out. Then I’ll join you.”