A/N: the works under Run #1 are all connected, it’ll be the same journey but different fics to go with certain events of the game or just fics that kinda exist outside of the main events. These can all be read as standalone fics unless stated otherwise. These are not chapters to my own narrative fic but will be snippets in timeline order to the games overall narrative.
Run #1 - Romanced Astarion
Comfort In Death - Enver Gortash X Durge!Reader (Prequel)
There was a time I genuinely thought I’d grow out of reading/writing fanfiction but as this is like my fifth blog on this hellsite I’m convinced I’ll be doing this shit on my deathbed
I’ve seen some posts on Reddit and TikTok asking if you can still romance Astarion if you don’t sleep with him the second time. I’m here to report to anyone wondering the same thing that if you tell him “not yet” the second time around when he asks it will not lock you out of his romance. Just make sure not to outright reject him as that WILL lock you out. I slept with him at the tiefling party and then told him “not yet, maybe another time” when he asked the second time around and I still got his confession scene in Act 2
I know people wonder for role play reasons, that’s why I turned him down the second time as well.
Edit: I also triggered the cutscene where he propositions you before the party and told him I didn’t want to sleep with him then too,so you can also safely turn him down before the party without locking yourself out of the romance as well
Does anyone have headcanons about what moment Astarion’s feelings for Tav/Durge started to shift? For me I feel like it was maybe an out of game night where they slept together and he realized something felt different and not like the other times he seduced a target. Like he didn’t know what to identify it as, just that something was off. And honestly this could even be an in game moment during the first time you sleep with him, cause I’ve seen if you reject him the second time he does seem to be genuinely hurt and says that out of everyone he’ll remember the night he spent with the player character (something to that effect).
I’m planning on a fic from his pov about this but I’m curious as to what others think that moment for him was and see if that inspires any other ideas for this fic
I like to imagine that my Durge pre-lobotomy tried to play it super cool and nonchalant around Gortash when in reality she was stalker levels of obsessed with him and killing everyone that she perceived as some sort of threat to their relationship no matter how small— and Gortash also can’t figure out why the hell all his servants are suddenly vanishing from his estate.
Idk if it’s a bug or if I triggered Gale’s romance but I just got to act 2 in my current run and got the voice line from Astarion asking if my Durge and Gale had a “long, hard debate” and it caught me so off guard cause I don’t remember ever getting that line nor do I remember any conversation with Gale even insinuating sleeping together so now I’m gonna go with Astarion has already started to catch feelings for Durge but can’t decipher this yet and has noticed that Gale may also have a thing for her and is now trying to tease them about it cause it’s the only thing he can think to do as the possibility of Gale going after Durge is really getting under his skin while my Durge is completely oblivious to the two men other than being mildly confused as to why Astarion keeps bringing up Gale… maybe she even starts thinking he may have a thing for Gale now.
I don’t remember the events of the coronation perfectly but Gortash talking to Durge right before he’s supposed to become the new archduke makes me imagine the entire audience hall just watching his dumbass trying re-kindle things with his ex and failing incredibly
I gotta admit, your durgetash fic was the first durgetash fic I've ever read and DAAAAAMN YOU KNOCKED IT OUT THE PARK 😩 My standards have been set high bc of you
Ahhh omg thank you, I’m blushing 🤭🤭
I’m rlly glad you liked it! I’m currently working on another part with a romanced Astarion when Durge and the rest of the party meet Gortash at his coronation in act 3!
FUCK just posted my durgtash fic yesterday and NOW I find out that Stillmaker was apparently a gift to Durge from Gortash??? Is this a headcanon or do I have to edit my fic :(
Summary: An overview of your relationship with Enver Gortash as the Dark Urge before Orin’s betrayal
Warnings: smut, gore, kinda sorta necrophilia (it’s brief)… it’s Durge so it’s freaky in some parts
Word Count: 6.9k
A/N: First fic on this blog, I haven’t written in a while so I apologize if it’s kinda rough, but regardless I hope everyone enjoys. Ngl I cut corners describing the heist scenes, I know my strengths and those types of scenes are not one of them. Some lore might be incorrect, some of that is by accident some on purpose cause it may not have worked with what I was writing but it should be minor changes.
A blade to the throat was actually the only way he saw himself meeting Bhaal’s chosen.
Being thrown to the ground, straddled and pinned with a blade pressed into his jugular, already drawing blood was exactly what Enver Gortash mentally prepared himself for.
What he hadn’t prepared himself for was the vision that held the knife.
You looked like no Bhaalspawn he had ever met before, no slayer that kept children awake at night. He couldn’t figure out if Bhaal had been kind or cruel selecting you as his chosen, knowing yours was the face so many men, women, and children would see last.
Your eyes were cold, calculating, peeling him layer by layer and he had heard of your proclivities in flaying live subjects. Your lips pursed in a scowl, clearly offended by the Chosen of Bane brazenly seeking you out. He had made himself known just as you were about to pounce on a group of drunken dwarves that had stumbled out of the Blushing Mermaid, causing them to scurry away at the sight of your blade.
Gortash didn’t dare take in a breath, laying stock still and forcing himself to submit to your blade as to not die by your hand prematurely.
”Enver Gortash. Chosen of Bane.” You hissed.
Daringly, he spoke, driving your blade just a tiny bit deeper. “I have a proposition.” He all but choked.
“Which is?”
”Lower your blade.”
You pressed harder.
”Bhaalist artifacts. Hall of Wonders.”
You hadn’t said anything in response, but after a moment you did pull your knife away, and his chest began to rise and fall in deep breaths.
You twirled the blade in your hand, eyeing his neck before dipping your head down and dragging your tongue against his neck, lapping up the blood. And punctuated it with a harsh suck on his fresh wound before releasing him.
Lips now red with his blood, you licked them, “Go on.”
Gortash knew then, when everything was said and done, he would ultimately die by your hand.
And strangely enough… the thought excited him.
~~~
You were unlike any other being Gortash had ever come across.
Intelligent, efficient, with a passion and skill for killing like he had never seen before.
Orin could never be you, the unhinged brat that followed you wherever you went couldn’t do half the things you could. You were admired, you were revered, you were chosen for a reason.
You were the purest Bhaalspawn and proved it every day you walked this plane.
The planning leading up to the heist had been… invigorating. For all your eccentricities you had still proven yourself competent and his initial wariness of pursuing an alliance with a Bhaalspawn had begun to diminish.
Throughout the process, ambitions began to be revealed to one another. And what was to be two hour meetings turned into all nighters as you told each other every grandiose idea and plan you had for the future.
Of course though, you had had your own brand of crazy he had to contend with, but he’d only be lying to himself had he said he didn’t enjoy it.
He had worked first, shutting down their security system before giving you the signal to take care of the guards. You had told him beforehand that you only needed ten minutes, he had offered more but you insisted.
And so after ten minutes he headed to the second floor where the Bhaalist artifacts were being exhibited.
It was horrific.
There was blood and carnage everywhere, a deliberate mess of viscera spread all over the floors and walls of the Hall of Wonders. Ritual circles drawn in blood around each body.
You had told him you wanted to make a statement. Show everyone that the Bhaalists were not some little freak show tourists could gawk at.
He had made his way through the bloodied mess, walking past severed limbs and guts until he reached the second floor.
What he had found there would forever be seared into his memory.
You kept up a good front but when it came right down to it, when you were truly in your element, you were as crazy as the rest of them.
He found you naked, hands digging through the chest cavity of some guard you had drawn another bloodied ritual circle around. He watched in horror as you humped the leg of this poor guard, ripping their heart out and taking a bite.
”The keys are over there, Lordling,” you moaned.
Sure enough, a pile of keys from all the guards sat in front of the torture racks display cases.
Not quite knowing how to navigate this scene, Gortash made his way to the pile of keys soaked in blood. He picked them up, trying each key in the lock.
”This arouses you I presume?” He asked, catching glimpses of the act in both horror and awe.
“Watching the last moments of life drain from a persons eyes is all so intimate,” you practically moaned, caressing the heart in your hands.
”Yes well, I’d hate to interrupt but you have the reducing scrolls,” he said, standing next to the now open display cases.
You sighed, dropping the heart with a wet splat, and tearing yourself away from the body. You stood, reaching for your leathers and pulling them on.
Shamelessly, Gortash watched as you dressed. Not that you seemed to mind. Tugging blood soaked leathers over sticky blood soaked skin, something that would be uncomfortable for anyone else, but for you seemed routine.
You had cast a reducing spell on the racks as to make them easier for transport. Allowing Gortash to put them away in the bag he brought, you had walked over to a smaller display cases showing off your brothers bones. You broke the glass with your elbow before collecting them.
And with that, you two were off.
Making your way out of the building, you two went to the nearest waypoint and teleported back to Gortash’s home.
You had squealed the second your feet hit the floor, grasping for the bag that hung from his shoulder before falling to your knees and pulling the racks from the bag. You looked them over in awe even in their shrunken form. Your desire to enlarge them was strong but you’d resist until you reached your estate.
”You know, it would be much easier to fawn over your old toys if we had gone to the temple.” He had spoken, walking over to the bottles of wine and glasses he had kept on a side table within the room. Catching glimpses as you turned the racks in your hands in admiration as he poured two glasses.
”Please,” you nearly scoffed. “As if I’d ever bring a Banite to my temple.”
”And here I thought you and I were becoming friends.”
“No amount of friendship with me will keep the others from killing you the second you step foot in that place. Truthfully, I’m doing you a favor.” You then picked up one of the bones to examine. “I’ll need to keep these from Orin, Bhaal knows she’ll just try to put these with her useless decorations.” You had spoken your sister’s name with such disgust that Gortash had to wonder why you haven’t killed her already.
Making his way back to you with both glasses in hand, he handed you one. “Come, let’s toast to tonight’s victory and to our alliance proving fruitful.”
You looked up at him from where you kneeled and Gortash decided in that moment that he very much liked this view of the Bhaalspawn on her knees before a Banite.
You dropped the bones in your hands to grasp the stem of the glass and stood up.
Wordlessly, you had clinked your glass against his before drinking all the contents within, holding eye contact as he drained his glass as well.
”Tastes expensive,” you commented, licking your lips.
Gortash’s gaze fell to your mouth, “Only the best for us.”
There was a beat, he hadn’t moved from his spot before you and so you narrowed your eyes skeptically at him. “What is it? If you have something to say then speak plainly.”
He snickered at your brash words, expecting nothing less from a woman like you. “You’re welcome to stay the night if you’d like. I’m sure the headlines won’t be kind come morning. If you wish to stay out of the streets until then we can continue our celebrations in the meantime.”
You narrowed your eyes further with a tilt of your head, scrutinizing him, “You wish to fuck me.”
Gortash offered you a tight lipped smile. “There’s no getting anything past you, is there?”
His world had gone sideways as you pounced, both glasses shattered against the floor as you had him pinned beneath you with Stillmaker once again at his neck.
The scene was near identical to when you first met.
“I was unaware of your death wish Lordling.” You dug Stillmaker under his jaw, drawing blood. “Tell me, what is it that has you hot under your collar, was it seeing me eat that wretches heart or pleasuring myself on its leg?”
He spoke much more freely than he had the first night under your knife, this time he knew you wouldn’t kill him.
Tonight at least.
”I can assure you I’ve wanted to see you beneath me long before your little display earlier.”
“Beneath you?” You hissed, “I thought you were smart Banite. My father would never forgive me for desecrating myself for you.”
“Perhaps you could take to the streets and flagellate yourself in your father’s name afterwards.”
You pulled your face back, giving him a glare colder than when you had initially met.
“Every man I have ever slept with has died by my hand, and truth be told: I had more fun with their remains.” You had finally pulled Stillmaker from his neck, “If you wish to continue this alliance then you have better watch yourself Banite.”
And with that, you had disappeared into the night, retreating to the Bhaalist Temple.
~~~
Gortash wouldn’t see you again for another month.
But you were present in his dreams— more specifically when Bane would visit him within them.
Messages from his God told him to continue the alliance, that you were both meant for greater things.
But you must have been more careful about where and how you tread as Gortash had failed to find you this time.
Instead, you had come to him.
After a painstakingly long day of coming up with blueprints for various things— all inventions that would eventually support his reign once he managed to become archduke of Baldurs Gate, he had retreated to his quarters for the night.
Though as he had entered his room, he was met with his own life flashing before his eyes… and a blade just having missed his head, now embedded in the door frame.
The joy with which he had in his heart upon seeing you reclined along his bed in the moonlight should have been worrying, but it wasn’t… not even a little bit.
“Tell me Enver, have you heard of the Crown of Karsus?”
And now his mind was sparking with a new joy entirely.
The events that took place from there were a whirlwind.
The two of you were back to it once again. Staying up all night for days at a time with one another mapping out every single detail of this brand new scheme, the scheme you had called “The Absolute”.
He had been more taken by you than ever.
The first part of this plan was to unite the Chosen of the Dead Three which meant you needed to find Ketheric Thorm.
And so the trek to Moonrise Towers would begin.
The first time Gortash would kiss you was under the stars after setting up for camp one night, which sounded… much prettier than it actually was.
Initially when he had tried to kiss you, you had shoved him away.
You pushed him to the ground before stepping square on his chest to keep him in place.
With a tilt of your head, you asked, “Are you still lusting after my flesh Lordling?”
You hadn’t sounded as angry as you were after the heist, rather, you sounded amused.
Whether that was a good or a bad thing remained to be seen.
“Did you assume I had stopped?” Came his reply.
“No. I did assume that you wisened up.” You bared more of you weight into his chest, “Get ahold of yourself, we’re on a mission and I don’t need your Banite cock ruining this for us.”
”But isn’t that the beauty of resting for the night? Our mission won’t be resuming until morning, we may as well take some time for ourselves.”
”No.”
Your word was final, resolute.
But it was no mistake that Enver Gortash was Chosen by the God of Tyranny.
His hand came sweeping upwards, grasping the back of your ankle and pulling your leg forward, knocking you off balance and to the ground with a grunt. Your head smacking the ground painfully.
He made quick work while you were dazed to have you pinned beneath him for once. He grasped your wrists, holding them above your head while bearing his weight on your hips.
”Do you fear your father? Do you truly believe he would disinherit you if we fornicated? Maybe he’d choose Orin in your place?”
Your stare spoke a thousand words, a thousand desires to see him dead and it made his cock twitch.
“My father would never choose that psychotic brat when he has me.”
”Then indulge me Bhaalspawn.” He leaned in, lips grazing the shell of your ear and sending a shiver down your spine, “I don’t think you’re as repulsed by the idea of laying with me as much as you let on. I think the idea excites you just as much as it excites me.”
”Is that what you think?” You spat, “So did every other man I slept with. But that didn’t stop me from tearing out their throats with my teeth just as they spilled their seed.”
He pulled back, offering you a knowing grin. ”You wouldn’t kill me.”
”That’s what they believed as well.”
”I know it. I’m far more useful to you alive than dead.”
Your jaw ticked as you ground your teeth together and he knew he had you.
“Is that really a gamble you’re willing to make,” you said evenly, restraining yourself from doing everything in your power to kill him right there.
“Since the moment we met.”
His lips were upon yours in an assault of teeth and tongue, and to his surprise you had reciprocated with equal fervor.
His hold tightened on your wrists as your hands flexed, trying to pull free while he shoved his tongue into your mouth. Saliva pooled at the corner of your mouths, and dripped down your cheek in what was certainly not the prettiest of kisses.
Gortash’s hold on your wrists changed as he held you down with one hand instead of two, his now free hand grasping at you through your leathers, squeezing a breast in the palm of his hand.
You bit down.
With his lip between your teeth you dug in, drawing blood quite easily from the soft flesh. He hissed but didn’t pull away. Instead he released your breast and grabbed your jaw, digging his fingertips painfully into the hinge of your mandible.
With his attention drawn elsewhere, you had managed to use your hips for some leverage. Lifting them, the two of you rolled until you were the one on top. And only then did you release your teeth from his lip, having yanked your hands from his hold during the struggle.
Sitting back, he glared at you with his blood painting your lips.
You licked them, a grin pulling at your mouth, “What’s wrong Enver? Afraid of a little pain?”
”No, but I’ll admit I’d rather be the one delivering it.”
You planted both hands on either side of his head, face parallel to his.
“And let you have all the fun?” You tutted, with a roll of your hips along his hardened cock.
Gortash hissed, grasping your thighs.
“Now, I won’t say it again,” you lowered your lips to his ear just as he did to you, “I am not going to fuck you Banite.”
”And if I tie you up and fuck you anyway?”
The pain that blossomed from his hand was immediate.
A pained scream tore from his throat and looking down he had found Stillmaker stabbed straight through his hand and into your own thigh.
“I may not be able to kill you right now, but that doesn’t stop me from maiming you, little tyrant. If your cock goes anywhere near me again, I’ll cut it off.” You then ripped Stillmaker from your bodies with another painful scream from him.
Gortash didn’t try anything after that.
He may have brooded for the remainder of the trip but once you had both reached moonrise other matters were at stake once again and his failed courting of you would have to be thought on at a later date.
Joining forces with Ketheric was easy as he evidently had been waiting for you both.
The time at moonrise was spent filling Myrkul’s Chosen in on the plan piece by piece and ironing out more details and concerns brought up by Ketheric.
He had proved to be competent yet rigid in his thinking, dismissing the creative solutions you had brought in leading to a butting of heads more than once during your stay.
But as the three of you were all necessary components to making this scheme come to fruition you would eventually come to see eye to eye whether you liked it or not… which you certainly didn’t.
The two of you agreed that Ketheric was a temporary asset until power was obtained. Gortash promised that afterwards you were free to kill him in whatever manner you desired the most.
Then, came the next part of the plan.
The Crown of Karsus.
You were both aware that this would come to be the most difficult part to execute. Once the Crown was obtained gaining control of the Netherbrain would be easy and every piece after that would fall into place.
But there was no plan without that Crown.
Luckily Gortash had a lead.
He hadn’t told you of his childhood and his time spent in the House of Hope and the hells as there was never any need reminisce over a humiliating past. But he also never had to go back to the hells.
And so, late one night he had told you everything and he found then that telling you these things came easier than he suspected they would.
He told you of his parents selling him to the devil Raphael and his subsequent captivity and torture in the dungeons of the House of Hope.
He could see your thoughts working behind your eyes, putting the puzzle pieces together. You had drawn conclusions as to this being the reason he was proficient in infernal machinery and understanding where his desire of tyranny had stemmed from.
”This, Raphael,” you said with a wave of your hand, as if the devil was this small, insubstantial thing, “Have you killed him yet?”
”He still lives. I don’t quite have the forces to have him killed just yet.” The two of you lounged in the seats you normally took around the long table in the study, one knee drawn to your chest.
You raised a confused eyebrow at the statement, “You have me.”
Gortash’s chest surprisingly constricted with your words as he looked up from the sprawled out papers on the table to you.
You were serious.
Of course killing came naturally to you and you did take any excuse to kill but your statement felt charged with something else.
You had always killed for yourself and for Bhaal… but Gortash couldn’t help but think that by killling Raphael you would be doing it for him.
A heavy silence stretched between you both as Gortash couldn’t find his words— perhaps he was reading too deep into it—
“Enver?” You asked, drawing him back into the present, “Would you like me to kill him?”
Were you asking for his permission?
Gortash cleared his throat, he didn’t have time to go down this train of thought at this very moment.
“When we stand at the top of the world we can get rid of the devil together. I merely brought up my past to tell you I know a way into the hells.”
“Then please, continue.”
The plan was straightforward, efficient.
Find Helsik in the Devil’s Fee, have her open the portal to Mephistopheles vault, raid the vault and steal the crown, get the fuck out of there.
It was straightforward but far from simple.
The stakes were far too high, the adrenaline coursing throughout you both felt like a drug. Disarming the security and the failsafe’s was an intricate process that would have had Mephistopheles come running if either of you triggered them, most likely leading to your deaths.
But then… there was the final click as you both stood in front of the Crown of Karsus as Gortash just successfully disarmed the plate it sat upon.
The air was sucked out of both your lungs as you turned to look at each other.
The energy shifted, anxiety and apprehension remained but had now included the overwhelming success of the heist.
”Care to do the honors?” Gortash asked you, gesturing an open palm towards the Crown.
You reached a hand out and lifted it from its display.
The Crown of Karsus was yours.
The light of the crown was reflected back in your eyes as you gazed upon it and felt its cool metal beneath your fingertips.
Your gaze flicked back to Gortash’s, your eyes unreadable to him in that moment. It was an expression he hadn’t seen on you before and just as he was about to ask you what was wrong, you spoke.
”Time to go.”
You grasped his hand in a tight hold and tugged him along with you, the two of you heading straight towards the portal with Helsik following closely behind.
You two were back in the Devil’s Fee with the Crown of Karsus.
Power and control at both of your fingertips.
And your lips upon his.
It took Gortash very little time to recognize your hand pulling painfully on his hair and wrenching him towards you as your mouth descended upon his.
His hands were on your hips within seconds pulling you towards him as your lips and tongues tangled viciously, sloppily.
Helsik was chittering about something or other but quite frankly he didn’t give a shit when he had finally gotten ahold of the two prizes he had been yearning for for the past few months.
All he knew was that she was pushing the two of you forward seconds later. You both stumbled and as Gortash came up for air to find the two of you by the Lower City Wall’s waypoint, you had attached your mouth to his neck.
Your teeth pierced his neck, drawing blood as if you were a vampire— his head spun with pain and lust, you were a ravenous thing when you weren’t pushing him away.
He placed a hand on the waypoint and had taken you both to the next closest one to his quarters. He was convinced you would have let him fuck you on the cobblestone road if he wanted to.
Stumbling into his chambers he tangled a hand into the hair at the base of your neck and yanked your head back, releasing you from his neck.
His eyes stayed on your mouth watching you lick the blood on your lips— an infuriating habit of yours that continued to drive him mad. He knew his neck must have been in quite the state already with how it throbbed in pain.
”I thought you didn’t want my— How’d you put it again, ‘Banite cock’ was it? Anywhere near you,” he asked peering down at you through his lashes, breath ghosting your lips.
”You know nothing Lordling— I’ve wanted to pleasure myself on your cock since the moment I tasted your blood.”
”And yet you’ve turned down my advances every chance you got.”
”Had to make you suffer tyrant.”
In a swift movement Gortash knocked you to your knees before him, your knees crashing loudly and painfully into the wooden floorboards beneath. But you only laughed in response, beginning to undo your leathers before him.
The complete 180 towards him was doing Gortash’s head in. You had threatened to cut his cock off not only a month ago and now you were the equivalent to a feral animal in heat clawing at him.
Suspicion began to set in.
Weaving his hand back into your hair, he pulled your head back once again after having gotten your top off, pretty tits on display for his eyes.
“And I’m to believe you’re not going to kill me after we now have the crown? How am I to know you’re not planning on taking all that power for yourself?”
You grinned at him, “If I wanted you dead I would have left you back in Mephistopheles vault, but I like where your head is at.” You grasped his hardened cock through his trousers, “The threat of death always makes this more exciting.”
He grit his teeth, releasing a shaky breath as you continued to paw at him.
”What’s the matter Enver, isn’t this what you wanted?“
”I would also like to be alive when the Netherbrain is dominated— Give me Stillmaker.”
Anger flashed behind your eyes then. “I am not giving you my blade and I could kill you in a million different ways without it.”
”Then it shouldn’t matter if I hold onto it.”
”No.”
With his tightened grip he threw you down to the ground.
You laughed as your head hit the floorboard.
He circled you, watching you with careful eyes as you were sprawled out before him now.
He wanted you— gods, he fucking wanted you, but it didn’t outweigh his distrust.
He was realizing how playful of a mood you were in as you laid on the floor, continuing to laugh at— him?— the pain? He wasn’t sure, but he did know he was still on his feet and not laying below you with a blade to his throat which meant something.
You grabbed Stillmaker from your hip and began to shimmy out of your pants, crazed grin still on your lips as you lay back down with your eyes on him. You twirled your blade skillfully.
”Come here, little tyrant,” you lilted teasingly, beckoning him, “Show me why your god chose you.”
His cock throbbed within its confines as his eyes appreciated your curves before falling to your cunt. Even from here he could see how wet you had become, your moisture glistening in the moonlight.
His resolve was crumbling.
A war raged within his head. He didn’t have the confidence he had had back in the Shadow-Cursed Lands, his insurance was that very Crown that you left on the table by the door…
An idea.
He walked towards you and just as your grin grew it quickly fell when he made his way past you and towards the crown.
You narrowed your eyes at him as he reached for the artifact, your humor beginning to dissipate.
“What are you doing Lordling?” You asked mirthlessly, propping yourself on your elbows to watch him.
Wordlessly he made his way over to the safe beside his bed, putting in the combination, he stowed the crown away and closed the safe back up.
Standing back up, he turned to you once again. His eyes glinted with the knowledge of getting one over on you “This safe,” he said with a tap to the safe, “Is lined with infernal fire power, one incorrect combination and this entire place will be in flames, its contents lost forever.”
You scowled at him, before falling back to the floor with a huff. “You really are no fun Enver.”
“Don’t get all pouty on me now.” He started towards you once more. Hands clasped behind his back as he stood above your naked form. “You truly didn’t believe I’d trust a Bhaalspawn did you?”
“I like it when you’re afraid,” you whined, “Makes me wet.”
”I know, I can see that,” he commented, kneeling beside you on one knee now. You made no move to get up and so his hand cupped a breast, thumb flicking over your nipple before stroking down your waist and disappearing between your legs as they fell apart further for him, “So we’ll make a deal,” his voice was tight as he touched you, restraint snapping by the second as his fingers stroked between your soaked lips, “You can keep Stillmaker,” you made no reaction to his words, as if that was the plan all along. “But I get to use her as well.”
Your grin slowly made its way back to your lips as you thrust your hips into his touch.
“I’ll agree to your terms, but just remember tyrant, the worst thing you can do is bore me.”
His eyes darkened then, his composure finally dissolving.
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem, darling.”
~~~
You two were unstoppable.
The months following the retrieval of the crown had been unlike any other.
He got to work with your beautiful, cruel mind during the day and indulged in your body at night— sometimes fucking when you were supposed to be working or working while you were fucking.
He truly couldn’t get enough of you.
Everything was perfect— or at least close.
Orin was becoming a problem.
She was an obsessive pest, she always wanted to be included— she wanted to be you.
Gortash had you bent over the table you two often worked at, hand firm on the middle of your back to keep you down with your hands tied together at your lower back. He had dislocated your shoulder in the process of restraining you, making the arm fall slack uselessly— which was cause for a bit of relief for him.
The entire table rattled with every one of his thrusts as your moans filled the room.
Much to his enjoyment and surprise he had found you did take pleasure in submitting to him time to time, but he did have to make the fight worthwhile to get you there. He could deal with the split lip and the many fresh, open wounds he received earlier from your nails— or claws more like, just as he always did if it meant he got to see you writhing below him.
The door to the study just then was ripped open and as Gortash was ready to bark at whatever servant thought it was a good idea to walk in then, his fight left as he found Orin stalking in like she owned the place.
”Don’t you dare stop,” you hissed at him as he faltered from your sister’s entrance.
With a roll of his eyes, he wound a hand into your hair and pulled back. Your back arched and you moaned in both pain and pleasure, no doubt from the awkward angle of your injured shoulder.
”What do you want Orin? Can’t you see we are working?”
Orin cackled at your words, watching the two of you, “Is that what this is?”
”State your business or get out,” he replied, punctuating the statement with a rather harsh thrust against your cervix, the pain mind-numbing as you yelped in response.
“This is embarrassing blood-kin,” Orin said, ignoring Gortash as she stalked over to you, looking down at you as he continued to hold your head up by your hair. “You should be out killing— pleasing Father, and yet you lay with a Banite.” She scowled, eyeing the place you two were connected.
”You’re here too, sister,” your voice was tight, wavering with the pleasure. “How is it that while more of my time has been spent here, I am still killing more than you.” Orin’s scowl deepened, “You really should be using that to your advantage in gaining Father’s favor, but you’re still such a disappointment. Go play with your corpses.”
In the blink of an eye, Orin had stabbed Bloodlust straight through your good shoulder. You cried out from the sudden shock of pain.
”Orin,” Gortash hissed, his pelvis pressed to your ass as he halted his movement, “Leave us.”
”Don’t stop Lordling,” you moaned, eyes lulling in your head back to Orin. “Strike a nerve, did I?” You taunted with a laugh.
Gortash grit his jaw— Bhaal followers would never cease to amaze him. And yet, he pulled his hips back once more and thrust forward.
“You know what she’ll be doing after this?” Orin asked Gortash now, leaving her blade in your shoulder, “The same thing she does every time she comes back from this place. She’ll go to the altar back in the temple and beg Father for forgiveness as she has the servants whip her and beat her until she’s barely breathing. Then that insufferable butler of hers will waste our healing potions all to make sure she doesn’t die.”
“And I still please Father more than you do— perhaps if you were less concerned with my affairs you may actually stand a chance at being chosen. But you’re clearly still a little brat standing in my shadow, now leave us before I add you to my collection of bodies.”
Orin ripped bloodlust from your shoulder, blood pooling immediately from the wound onto the table below and across your back. Orin slowly started backing away, watching the crimson flow from your shoulder, “It would be a shame if Sceleritas couldn’t find the healing potions… I’ll see you at the temple, blood-kin.”
With that Orin finally left you both.
Gortash’s gaze was back to your shoulder. There was a lot of blood that didn’t seem to be stopping any time soon. “We should stop—“
”Don’t you dare Enver. Make me cum— I quite like the head rush when bloodless anyway.”
”Gods,” he huffed, loosening his grip and setting your head back down to the table. He began fucking you with a newfound fervor. “You’re fucking mad, my love.”
”You like it,” you moaned, voice pitching up.
”That I do,” he grunted, your cunt clenching around him maddeningly so, “When will you kill her? All she ever does is follow you around and get in the way.”
”Soon,” you gasped, the blood loss already making you dizzy, “She has potential— I would like to see her realize it first before slaying her, and oh will Orin’s death be glorious— ah, there, harder!”
You came with a cry of his name.
~~~
Somewhere along the way, you had stopped leaving in the middle of the night for the temple. It had started before you two and Ketheric successfully dominated the Netherbrain and would then continue afterwards.
It was odd to have you curled up against him in the night, fingers pulling and twisting the hair on his chest, but it was welcome all the same.
To have your warm body within his grasp felt almost domestic.
The thought made him laugh the first time it entered his mind. He was quite sure he was the only one to ever consider any moment with you to be domestic— a few months ago he would have even laughed at the very notion.
But he couldn’t deny having you lay beside him in the night with no ulterior motives other than to rest after a long day was anything but that.
”Tell me, my love, what is it you exactly plan on doing once our plan has come to full fruition?” He had asked you in the dead of night, hand stroking your arm, your leg tossed over his hips.
”I’ve already told you,” you tugged on his chest hair painfully, “I’ll kill the world before laying down on my own blade.”
“So you’ll kill even me?”
“Are you apart of this world, tyrant?” You asked, sarcasm seeping into every word.
“To go through all this trouble just to lay the world to waste,” he commented, “Perhaps you can let me enjoy the domination before killing me right away then, after all I didn’t make you an identical one,” he then held up his hand that wore the golden gauntlet with his netherstone, “For us to not rule by each other’s side at least briefly.”
He was referring to the delicate silver gauntlet you also wore on your right hand that held your own netherstone.
”I can spare you for a time,” you hummed, “But I will kill you Enver.”
”Then promise not to keep me waiting for you too long in the afterlife.”
Your fingers halted their idle playing of his chest hair.
It was a pointless comment really. You both knew exactly where your souls would go in the afterlife— that both your respective gods would claim you as theirs and your souls would never meet again.
But the sentiment was there followed by the quiet realization that this was the only time you two would have together in any lifetime.
He felt you shift, looking up to his face as you rest your head on his shoulder. And so he peered down at you best he could from his angle.
The expression on your face was one he had never seen on you before. He has seen you beaten and battered, by your own hands, by his hands, and the hands of other Bhaal followers, but for the first time since he has met you you looked pained.
”What’s wrong darling?” He asked, voice falling to a whisper.
“Father, forgive me.”
You pressed your lips to his fiercely.
That was the only time you two made the closest thing to love that two monsters could make.
The beating you had subjected yourself to afterwards had nearly sent you to your death.
~~~
Gortash stared at the maps on the long table in the study.
You hadn’t come by yesterday.
Unusual but you were Bhaal’s Chosen so he could only assume you had been out, culling in his name or something of the sort.
It did remind him how much more he enjoyed plotting when it was with you.
Early morning light would eventually turn into the golden rays of the afternoon, until eventually the sun would be no more.
You hadn’t come by in two days.
But Orin did.
He could hardly help the hopeful swell in his chest when the door handle sounded, only for it to burst immediately upon seeing Orin emerge.
With an exasperated sigh he said, “If you’re looking for your sister, I can assure you she’s not here.”
Orin had laughed, stalking towards him— he quickly noticed how she looked like the cat who got the cream and that made his hackles rise.
”And I can assure you, Lord Gortash,” she mocked, reaching for her blade, “We won’t be needing that blood brain anymore.”
She pulled her blade from her hip, brandishing Bloodlust or more specifically, it’s hilt.
Gortash’s throat caught at finding your netherstone sitting snugly in the rounded hilt of Orin’s blade.
His eyes flicked back to her and the smug, victorious grin said everything he didn’t want to hear. ”What did you do Orin?” He demanded from the woman, now standing up.
”She was an obstacle and I took care of her, now,” she made a show in pulling out one of the seats of the long table and sitting down, throwing her legs upon the table. “You’ll need to fill me in, my blood-kin never told me anything— oh, but I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear that her screams were like music.”
Gortash, who had never liked Bhaal for obvious reasons, decided then that he hated the god and would curse him until the very fate of his death.
He was no stranger to the Bhaalspawn’s customs. The premature deaths and the killing of each other was all very public knowledge. Your very existence had always been to cause death before becoming death.
He just thought he had more time with you.
You were brilliant, efficient, and skilled beyond any other one of Bhaal’s followers— he nearly couldn’t believe that Orin had been the one to end you.
As the days passed and Orin became involved in the plan of ‘The Absolute’, Gortash would come to find a piece of him had died along with you.
But that was neither here nor there. He had a mission to complete, one he had wanted to do with you at his side before you either killed him or he crossed you— whichever came first really.
So instead, he’d have to settle for mourning you in the hours of the night where he used to have you in his arms. He settled for the ghost pains of having his chest hair tugged on and the feel of the scars you left on him beneath his fingertips.
In the end, when everything was finally said and done, he always did know he would die by your hand.
Maybe the circumstances had been changed drastically and you were no longer the person he had come to love or the person that had come to love him in your own equally monstrous ways. Regardless, it still remained that he fell as a victim to your blade.
And at the very least, he still had that comfort in death.
____________________________________________
A/N 2: I will mostly be posting Astarion X durge!reader fics but I may feature more Gortash fics like these, the angst is just too perfect not to. Let me know if you enjoyed this fic and would like to see more!
Astarion disapproving of freeing the grymforge gnomes in act 1 is such an interesting moment to me. Because you’d assume that freeing slaves would gain favor with him or at the very least he’d stay neutral on, but I came to a different conclusion that would make more sense as to his disapproval.
I think what he felt was resentment. He typically dislikes acts of heroism and I think that ties into his voice lines like where he tried praying to all the gods but none of them answered and there’s another line I forgot but it’s along the lines of Wyll being the kind of hero Astarion would have dreamed of as a boy (sorry I know butchered that one 😔). But anyway, seeing you perform this act of heroism and free the slaves most likely made him feel resentment towards you or someone like you not saving him in the 200 years he was a slave.
So rather than him disliking you freeing the gnomes it was more so him resenting the broader idea of a hero returning freedom to group who was enslaved as he was pretty much abandoned in his own enslavement for 200 years and even then it took a larger outside force to take him out of that situation.
I’m sure this isn’t a new take but I’m new to bg3 in general so I’m coming to conclusions I’m sure many others already had
Someone made such a good point in the tags of a reblog about how twitchy Durge is and that as the acts went on resisting the urge should have been an ever increasing DC check and I think that would have been genius.
Some spoilers under the cut
The implication of not killing Isobel and then being forced to kill your romanced character in Act 2 is that the urge IS becoming more and more difficult to resist. I would have loved to see more of that in act 3 leading up to the final choice of accepting Bhaal. Seeing Durge continuing to devolve into an unstable mess would have been so cool, more twitchiness, lack of sleep, living in fear of killing their companions— all of that would have made the final choice of accepting or resisting Bhaal that much more satisfying. Like it would have either crescendoed into Durge accepting Bhaal because they physically couldn’t handle resisting the urge or accepting death as the only way out and finally being able to obtain true peace.
Also just to add, take all of my critiques with a grain of salt. Larian did so much with this game that it almost feels like a crime to have any critiques at all sometimes. Besides the gaps that Larian left can be filled in by fic writers, which I know I’ll gladly be doing
