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Summary
It was difficult to choose just one way of killing Enver Gortash. Maidris had devoted hours to the careful art of consideration, daydreaming all the ways he could bring him to heel, to break that easy confidence, to leave him numb and begging, panting on the floor like a dog. To destroy, to utterly dismantle, Lord Gortash would be a ceremony, a holy ritual in itself. And at the end of it all, regardless of his method, Maidris would have his blood dripping over Bhaal’s altar, a final offering before the world was broken and made anew.
The Dark Urge arrives at Gortash's door for a reason he can't yet admit to himself. There's bickering, a little bit of spice, and some bittersweet pining for a future neither of them can have and don't even know that they're dreaming of.