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You’d known something was wrong not long into the adventure.
Despite the Urge that clawed at your thoughts and appeared in your dreams, your own body had begun to concern you beyond anything your mind could procure. Such fears had been confirmed on the second month of the journey when your moonblood still hadn't come. Halsin later confirmed you were carrying a child, though no one had any idea where it might have come from.
Your memories didn’t reach past your entrapment on the nautiloid, and you certainly hadn’t slept with any of your companions. The damned annoyance, Scleritas Fel, even seemed off-put by it, though he refused to explain why the idea of a mysterious pregnancy upset him.
This unfortunate kink in the whole ‘saving the world’ plan was easy to avoid when your stomach was flat enough to remain armored. Even after reaching Baldur’s gate, the roundness was still subtle, and you were able to merely loosen the leather fastenings to have some comfort. Shadowheart kept careful watch on you, expending her healing spells for your sake whenever an enemy went after you.
Unfortunately, spells couldn’t help with the hormones being rapidly produced in your body. Your chest swelled and remained sore, as did your back. Sleeping was uncomfortable, not to mention the hassle of occasionally tasting your breakfast a second time when it made a repeat appearance. You were certain your friends had grown tired of your consistent moodiness, so finally making it to the city was a blessing.
That was, until Orin took it upon herself to shed light on the subject.
“Sister, sister. Swollen with the lordling's child. I’d hoped father had lied to me, surely his last Chosen couldn’t have bred with the Banite.” Orin had giggled, twirling her blade about as she paced around the party. “Does he know, I wonder? Does he know his little lover grows fat with his child?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” you hissed, hand on the knife at your belt.
“I’d pay our little Duke a visit, sweet sister. However much I’d like to kill you now and take my two for one.” Her words inspired Karlach’s protective arm across your front, a snarl on her lips. “Not yet, though. Not until it’s the proper time; on father’s altar.” The woman vanished into a spray of red, her malicious laughter echoing through the room.
After much deliberation with your friends, and a frustrating need for answers; you relented. It was with resignation that you decided to visit Wyrm’s Rest for the coronation of Lord Gortash.
You’d seen him beneath Moonrise of course, alongside the other Chosen as they controlled the Elder Brain. He’d allowed you entry to the fortress, but you insisted on dressing more inconspicuously for meeting with him properly. This entailed wearing finer fabrics (clothes stolen from a nobleman’s house), and cutting down the group to only you, Wyll, Shadowheart and Lae’zel. A well-rounded party in case a fight broke out. Though dressed as you were, you hoped that wasn’t the case.
“Ah, my favorite assassin,” the smooth voice of the Banite called over the din of the crowd. “I’m so glad you’ve returned to my side.”
You froze, flanked by your friends, but now all eyes were on you. The throne room was vast, filled with people and richly decorated. However, the lord’s attention was solely on you. His familiarity was startling, despite having no knowledge of who he was other than a name and a title. Yet, you swore you knew the kohl-rimmed eyes, like you’d seen them in a dream..
Gortash, chosen of Bane, seemed to know you well. A subconscious hand moved to rest on your stomach, wondering just how well.
Unfortunately, his eyes followed your hand and caught on the soft swell of your stomach. Recognition flickered dangerously behind his dark gaze, head tilting to the side.
"You always did find ways to surprise me," his voice had lowered, no longer announcing each syllable to the crowd as he stepped closer. On instinct, the party behind you closed rank and bristled at his proximity. "Calm yourselves, I have no intent on hurting your little leader."
"Then what is your intent?" You asked, brows furrowing.
"Might I have a word? Without your friends waiting to skewer me?"
"And what collateral do I have that you won't take the opportunity to-"
"I would never harm what's mine ." The words were quick and sharp as a dagger, cutting through your own effortlessly. The final word, mine, was snarled. The whispers behind you implied that your friends were just as surprised as you were, dread clamping like a vice around your heart.
"I think you deserve some answers," Shadowheart said as she gave your shoulder a squeeze. Her tone was encouraging, but uncertain. "We'll be here."
Gortash bid his audience to give him a moment with an old friend, and took you to a sequestered office right off the throne room. It was there that he offered you a seat, setting a pillow on the chair before pouring you a glass of water from a jug. The sudden pseudo-pampering put you on edge, watching each movement.
"How far along are you?" Gortash didn't bother with formalities, charged with energy that forced him to tap a finger on the nearby desk even as he tried to remain still. This new development seemed to have sparked his interest beyond even the Absolute plot.
"I'm not sure. Three months? I'm assuming it occurred prior to my loss of memory. I haven't…" You trailed off, realizing you were getting very personal with someone you barely knew. It was an instinct, how easily you could speak to him. Like something inside you remembered him.
A subconscious understanding that he wasn't a threat. Not to you, at least.
"That would match perfectly with my visit to Moonrise," Gortash mused as he tapped his desk. "Days before Orin's little coup."
"Coup?"
"Prior to Orin operating as Bhaal’s chosen, you held the position.” The lord spoke Orin’s name with such distaste that you suspected their alliance had begun to crumble. “You operated with such focus; truly you were the best of your kin. I’d never seen someone command with such grace. Such authority.” Gortash paused as a smile curled his lip. “Other than me, of course.”
“You’re saying we were allies?”
“More than allies, pet.” The lord moved across the room to remove papers from a safe, spreading them on the desk beside you. “Friends, compatriots, lovers. ” Gortash pointed to the papers, and you stood to scan the lines of ink.
It was a series of letters, written in your handwriting. The greetings began formally, using his title and surname. Then, less professional headers sprinkled the pages. My lord became Gortash, then just Enver, before you caught: my beloved, my love , my Enver.
These were your letters, your affections for the man that fate now made your enemy.
“Now you return to me.” Enver spoke, approaching where you stood at the desk. One of his hands found the fabric that covered your stomach, and you allowed him to settle his palm there. “And they’re mine, my child in the womb of the woman I love. This is a gift, you understand.”
You looked to his hand, placing yours gingerly overtop it. Frowning as your mind failed to supply you with memory. Anything you’d shared with him, anything that transpired prior to your awakening on the nautiloid was lost.
“I don’t…” you sighed, shaking your head. “I don’t remember anything, Enver. I’m sorry.”
“Let me remind you.” Gortash said, hand finding your cheek, “Allow me to prove that I’m yours.” At this proximity, you could smell his cologne and see the warm brown of his irises in the candlelight. His skin was warm, palm still on the swell of your stomach.
Something in your heart pulled, ached at his touch. Even if you remembered nothing, there was a connection you couldn’t deny. Leaning into the hand that rested on your cheek, he closed the space between your lips to kiss you.
It started tender, a gentleness you hadn’t expected from the Banite. Each kiss was rich with emotion, his tongue grazing your lower lip before you allowed him to deepen it. Even here, there was muscle memory, your body responding to his touch like it knew him when your mind did not.
When his lips left yours, it was only to trace them down the column of your throat. Each open-mouthed kiss was searing, his teeth snagging on the skin just enough to make you whine. He still hadn’t removed his hand from your stomach, instead pushing up the fabric of your shirt to hold the bare skin. His thumb traced over you, groaning against your pulse when your body leaned into his touch.
“You have do idea how I’ve missed you.” Enver whispered, inhaling audibly as his nose brushed just under your ear. “Your voice, your skin, your very smell .” His teeth nipped your earlobe, pulling back to look at your face once more. “Let me finish this coronation, allow me to show you what you mean to me in my bed.”
“Enver,” you hummed at the loss of his lips.
“Gods, say my name like that again and I won’t be able to resist.” The lord kissed you again, this time with an edge of desperation. “It will take mere minutes. Then I will show you what you’ve forgotten.”
-
It took a great deal of restraint to leave that office with the knowledge the letters provided, and the promise of more on Enver’s lips. His coronation was quick, and you sent your party back to camp under the guise of discussing working together with the Archduke. He’d ended the gathering, refusing questions as he ushered you to his private quarters.
Once safely behind closed doors, Gortash took his time undressing you. Each touch was careful, his clawed gauntlets removed so that he could run calloused hands over your stomach. His lips found your collarbones as he admired your bare chest, kissing down until he took one of your tender nipples in his mouth.
It was sensitive, your hand catching in his messy hair as you choked out his name. Enver only smiled as he repeated his attentions on the other nipple. The warm, wet tongue was enough to set the fire inside you alight. He was familiar with what inspired your cries and played you like an instrument.
"Still the same, still my beautiful assassin." Gortash hummed, lips returning to yours as he guided you to his bed. "Lay back for me, pet."
Once you'd settled, Enver slid to his knees at the end of the bed and urged your hips to the edge. One of his hands still smoothed over your stomach, aching to touch you even as his mouth kissed at your thighs.
It should have been frightening, how well he knew your body. Instead, you felt yourself grow wet at his touch. Your fingers grasping at the sheets before one hand fastened into his hair.
For all his honeyed words, his tongue was just as sweet.
Enver moaned against your cunt, eager as a starving man with his first taste of food. Sucking lightly on your clit, you could see his eyes over your stomach. He watched each facial expression with such intensity, nearly making you self conscious with how his eyes devoured you.
When his mouth left, his fingers took its place. One long digit slipped inside, curling against the spot that made your back arch off the bedspread. Wet kisses peppered your thighs, and the archduke sat back to watch as he worked you open on his hand
“We always knew we were playing with fire. That we risked your father’s wrath with each coupling.” The slow drag of his fingers made you whimper his name, head thrown back on the bed. “Yet we couldn’t keep from each other.” His mouth returned to your cunt, tongue sliding over your clit. He groaned when you tugged his hair, the vibrations sending you into your first orgasm as you gasped and whined.
It wasn’t world-shattering, but it was enough to make your thighs quake as his hand held down your hips. Gortash’s tongue was skilled, and you lamented the loss when he rose to kiss you again. The taste of you was wet on his lips, and the look in his eye was downright reverent when he pulled away.
“You are so beautiful.” Enver’s full lips pressed a gentle kiss to your jaw, the weight of his body dipping into the bed as he settled beside you. “I never thought…” For once, you heard the archduke’s confidence waver with emotion. It was a foreign sensation, knowing you were the cause of it. Finally, after moments of silence, Gortash seemed to find his words.
“I thought I’d lost you.” It was the closest to a confession of love that Enver seemed capable of, his dark eyes trailing down your body. His warm palm smoothed over your stomach, his attention to it wasn’t lost on you. “And now, you’re here. Both of you.” The latter half of the sentence was whispered between feather-light kisses. The hand on your stomach slid to the apex of your thighs and circled your clit. Just enough to send bliss coursing through your nerves, but not enough to truly please you.
“Please,” you finally spoke, interrupting his adoration. “I want to feel you.”
The need to know him again, to understand how he worked, gnawed at you. Every touch lavished on you understood exactly what you needed, and yet you had seen nothing of what pleased the archduke. He seemed to understand, and you felt him untie the laces of his pants before drawing your leg over his hip. His cock was hot and hard, pressing insistently against your core as he gently shifted you onto your side.
“Tell me if something is too much,” he urged. Knowing fingers guided him inside you, and a curse escaped you. To his credit, Enver was gentle beyond what you’d ever have expected. Each inch with which he filled you was slow, taking his time as you moaned at the sensation. It was remarkably easy to take him, like your cunt was made for it.
His face pressed into your hair, inhaling the scent of your skin before exhaling your name. For a moment, he remained still inside you, as if savoring the sensation of your wet heat around him. Your muscles tensed, and with a groan, Enver finally began to rock his hips against yours. It was slow, and his hand on your hip squeezed until it ached. Such gentleness took immense focus from the archduke, and you moved to catch his hand with yours.
“You feel perfect,” you whispered, and it was true. Nothing had felt this right since you’d woken up on the godsforsaken nautiloid. Nothing had even come close .
“Hells,” Gortash hissed the word through grit teeth. Your joined hands rested just under the swell of your stomach, his fingers holding tight to yours. “My assassin, my beloved assassin,” he struggled to formulate words as he fucked you. “I thought you couldn’t be more beautiful,” his lips found your neck again and sucked bruises into the skin. “Then you came here, full of my child. My legacy.”
The archduke’s words made you shiver, and you heard his voice break as your cunt squeezed around him. His hips stuttered, bottoming out inside you as he held you close.
“I will give you everything ,” Enver’s breath was warm on your ear. “I want the world to see you by my side, to know that this-” his hand released yours to flatten on your stomach “-is mine.”
Reaching behind you, your hand fastened in his hair again to hold his lips to your neck and jaw. The slow drag of him inside you was maddening, and you used the leg hooked over his hip to urge him faster.
“Please, Enver.” You begged, being driven to madness by his languid pace. “Come inside me, I want to feel you fill me again.” These words seemed to have an effect on him, and he cursed into your skin as his hand fell to your clit. The pressure made you cry out, pressing your body back against him. “Gods, I need you. Please!”
“Not until you come around my cock. I want to feel you fall apart around me.” His words were spoken sin, and combined with the insistent press of his finger on your clit, left you gasping as you felt the coil within you snap. Your orgasm made your whole body shudder, and Enver pulled your face to his in searing kiss as his cock twitched inside you and he came with a growl of your name.
Silence followed, only broken by harsh breathing as your pulses evened out. The hand you’d had in his hair stroked the strands with a gentleness that had him kissing you with soft reciprocation. Each touch was careful, meticulously planned to keep you as comfortable as possible even as he pulled away.
Your complaint at the loss was soothed when he returned with a warm rag to clean the mess between your legs. His lips comforted the bruises at your neck, kisses carrying down to your stomach.
“Please, remain here. With me.” He finally spoke again once he’d ensured your comfort among his pillows and sheets. “I cannot bear to part with you.”
“I have to attend Orin first. I suspect my current state paints an even darker target on my back.” Your words brought a scowl to mar his handsome face. “I won’t be safe while she lives.”
“I won’t have you face her alone. My resources are yours.” With that, he slipped under the blankets to hold you against his skin. “She will not harm you, nor my child.”
For the first time since you awoke months prior, in his arms, you felt safe.