Archive of Our Own

Tavera and Gortash had been the ultimate evil power couple - up until Orin had done Tavera in, that is. Now Gortash patiently waits for her to find her way back to him. When she eventually does, though, she’s spouting nonsense about ‘turning over a new leaf’ and ‘saving the world from the Absolute.’ Will he choose tyranny or Tavera?

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Tavera was perfect. A beauty draped in crimson-stained clothes, slaughtering her enemies with a smile upon her face. Bhaal’s chosen. Gortash first met her at Bane’s command. They were to work together to plunder Mephistopheles’ lair and retrieve an ancient artefact - the Crown of Karsus.

He assumed she’d be deranged, mad, incapable of forming a coherent thought because of the constantly screaming urges Bhaalspawns were rumoured to have. But Tavera seemed put-together. Calm, collected, and conniving.

Gortash introduced himself with a cordial smile. She did the same. They put their minds together and formed a plan. She contributed just as much as he did. Her mind was full of untapped knowledge, experience far beyond what Gortash had due to her years ruling Bhaal’s cult. He wanted to explore what she knew and show her what he knew.

After acquiring the Crown of Karsus, they began planning to capture an Elder Brain. Long nights were spent in his study, poring over scrolls and tomes side-by-side.

He learned that she’d brought her cult back into the public eye almost single-handedly. Before her, Bhaal’s followers were dwindling, and new recruits were slim. After she took the title of Bhaal’s chosen, though, her God’s name became feared all across the Gate. Members of the cult operated relatively unseen. They appeared to have normal jobs, normal lives from the outside. And yet they journeyed to the Temple of Bhaal weekly to pay their respects to the God of Murder.

The cult was still by no means mainstream, but more and more Bhaalists were joining every day. Tavera was animated as she showed him just how much power she had over the Gate.

Gortash was enthralled with her. She was so smart, so efficient. He wanted her. And, luckily for him, she wanted him as well.

Soon enough, with the help of a portal that led from his home to the Temple of Bhaal, they were spending nearly every night in each other’s arms. They made plans, big plans, for after they’d taken control of the city and, eventually, all of Faerun. Gortash would have all the power he wanted, and Tavera would extend Bhaal’s influence across the world. They would rule together, side by side, and create a new empire.

And then Orin ruined it all. Gortash was furious when she showed up one day, taunting him with images of his now-tadpoled sweetheart. As much as he wanted to make her pay for what she’d done, Bane forbade him. He was forced to work with her to use Tavera’s plans to enslave the Elder Brain.

Ketheric Thorm, the useless bastard, became his ally as well. He missed having somebody with him who he could keep up with. Once the brain was enslaved, he swore he would kill both Orin and Ketheric, take their Netherstones and hunt Tavera down. They would rule together as planned.

Everything was going according to plan - until a group of thralls managed to regain their free will. First Gortash told Minthara, a drow matron, to take care of them. She was granted a small army of Absolute soldiers, all of whom were slaughtered by the thralls.

Then Ketheric Thorm was tasked with disposing of them, but he, too, succumbed to their power. Gortash began to worry. Who were these thralls, and what power did they have, that they could just ignore the Absolute’s voice?

And then they turned up at Baldur’s Gate. Orin was being especially irritating, taunting Gortash with his lover, when his Steel Watch informed him of the arrival of the thralls. They were at Wyrm’s Fortress.

Just when he was about to be crowned, too. How inconvenient. He took control of one of his minions from afar, and his heart fluttered in his chest. There she was - Tavera, his beautiful Bhaalspawn. She had found her way back to him.

“Greetings,” he said through his minion. “Orin had told me you were here, but I scarcely believed it. Welcome back to Baldur’s Gate. Welcome home. Allow me to formally invite you to my inauguration. We can catch up there.”

He disengaged from his minion, rushing to the mirror giddily. Did he look alright? He thought so - his robes were freshly cleaned, and he had washed just that morning. He looked tired as all hells, but surely they would understand that their disappearance had caused him some stress, right?

Looking at her, even through the eyes of another, felt like he had regained a part of him that he had lost when she’d been tadpoled. He couldn’t wait to take her into his arms, to hold her, to have her.

But when they met in the ceremonial hall, she wasn’t excited at all. She seemed almost indifferent.

“Crawling back from her bloody disgrace, it’s my favourite assassin! Gods, you’re a sight for sore eyes. Orin told me she’d made a fool of you, but I should’ve known you wouldn’t go down that easily.”

Her eyes widened and she took a step back. “You know me?”

A pang of hurt stung his throat. He swallowed it down. “Then she didn’t lie - the past is lost to you. Let me clear up some mysteries. We share.. So much history.”

He told her how they had hunted down the Crown of Karsus side-by-side, how they had spent so many nights together studying the Elder Brain, how they had found comfort in each other’s arms. How they had made plans to love each other boldly and rule Faerun together.

But instead of excitement, in her eyes he saw horror. Her companions seemed equally disgruntled, especially the Tiefling. Gortash recognized her as Karlach, one of the first slaves he’d sold.

“I’m not like that,” she said softly. “Not anymore, at least. I’m here to put a stop to the Absolute.”

Gortash chuckled disbelievingly. “Surely you don’t mean that. We must all succumb to our true nature eventually, correct?”

She squared her shoulders. “I don’t have to succumb to anything. And I certainly don’t have to work with you. Whatever alliance we had, whatever bond we shared, I was a different person when it was forged.”

“But you weren’t,” insisted Gortash. “You were passionate, smart, confident. And I can still see that in you now. Please. Let’s talk about this some more, shall we? After my inauguration?”

“Don’t do it,” Karlach growled, “dealing with Gortash will bite you in the ass.”

Tavera looked at him, calculating. “Fine,” she spat, “but don’t expect my choice to change.”

His heart hurt as he walked away from her. She was going to be his wife, the mother of his children, his other half. They loved each other. How could all that have changed?

No, he told himself, it’s just her amnesia. Soon enough she’ll regain her memory and everything will be as it was.

As the thrall Uldur Ravengard granted him the title of Grand Duke, he found it hard to feel triumph. Why, now that he’d gained so much, did he feel so empty?

He brought her to his new quarters, his stuff already moved in. He fetched two wine glasses and filled them with his finest esmeltar red. They sat on two opposing loveseats by the window. Gortash wanted nothing more than to place his arm around her and pull her close, keep her close, make sure that she would never be taken from her again, but he resisted.

“So.” She gnawed her cheek. “We were together?” Gortash nodded. “How? Why, I mean? Did Bane and Bhaal make us?”

“No, no, no, my dear, we were together of our own free will. I can tell you why I love you - you’re confident, smart, witty, and you and I complement each other so well.”

“We were in love. So it was pretty serious.”

“You and I were going to rule all of Faerun as king and queen.”

“And I’m assuming you still want that?”

“Of course.” He stared deep into her eyes. “I will always want you, Tavera.”

She leaned forward, mesmerised, before shaking her head. “You’re evil,” she said, more to herself than to him, “you sold my friend.”

“Karlach?” Gortash sighed. “I’ve sold so many people. I regret my days as a slaver, I must admit. I assure you, it was merely a means to an end. I put a permanent halt on the Baldurian slave trade as soon as I entered the weapons dealing business. Slaves are too messy.”

“Too messy. Not, I don’t know, morally wrong or something, but too messy.”

“Tavera.” He leaned forward, grasping her hand in his own. She didn’t pull away. “I love you so unbelievably much. I know that you don’t remember loving me, but I assure you, our bond was so strong, so unbreakable, it must be in you somewhere.”

“It is,” she whispered. “I’m so attracted to you, Gortash. But.. I’m not that person anymore. I don’t want to dominate Faerun, I want to save it. I’m going to destroy the Elder Brain, and you’re not going to stop me.”

He searched her eyes before letting out a mirthful chuckle. “I’m not, am I? You’ve overcome every challenge set before you. I have no reason to think I’d be different.”

“But you could be,” she urged. Tavera rose from her loveseat and joined Gortash on his. “You say you were attracted to me because of my confidence, my smarts, my wit. I still have all of that. We can still form an alliance. Join me, Gortash. Help me destroy the Elder Brain. We can live happily ever after, still, I swear. We can,” she cry-laughed, “we can move out to some cottage in the woods and be happy, just you and I.”

He wanted to. Gods, he wanted to. “You don’t want that anymore, you said it yourself. You don’t even remember loving me.”

She grabbed his hands. “But I still do. I hate myself for it, but I do. I want to be with you so badly, and even though I don’t remember us right now, I will eventually. I’ve been getting my memory back, piece by piece, and at some point I’ll know exactly how in love we were. I can’t imagine giving all that up. I won’t forsake my values for it, though. If you refuse.. Then I’m afraid we’ll be over.”

Gortash sighed. “And yet you’re more than comfortable to ask me to forsake my values, to forsake my God.”

“I’m asking you to be with me.”

He looked into her eyes, her beautiful red eyes, and found he couldn’t resist. She was perfect. A beauty draped in sorceress robes, saving the Storm Coast from evil. Singlehandedly overthrowing the Dead Three.

“A cottage in the woods. Worlds away from the castle we had once hoped for. But things have changed since then, haven’t they?” He squeezed her hands. “Fuck Bane. I don’t want power if I’m forced to have it alone.”

He removed his gauntlet and handed her his Netherstone, which she pocketed immediately. They looked at each other once more. He had just given up everything for her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, leaning into his side. He wrapped his arms around her, closing his eyes in bliss.

“I’ve missed this,” he admitted, “missed you. My Steel Watch won’t harm you. You may move around the city as you please. Kill Orin, then let me know when you intend to confront the brain. I’ll put together an army, and we can fight it together.”

“I’m not sure my companions would be alright with that.”

“You’re assuming I give a shit what they think.”

She buried her face in his chest. “I don’t want to kill you,” she confessed, “even when Karlach was telling me about how you betrayed her, how you sold her to a devil, I didn’t want to kill you. I didn’t know why then, but I do now. Gods, if you had said no to me, if I’d had to take your Netherstone by force, I think I would have gone fully mad.”

“Good that won’t need to happen, then, hm?”