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Ever since your memories of who you were, or perhaps who you are, came back you had a nagging feeling in the back of your pounding skull. Walking towards the throne room where Enver Gortash's coronation was to be held, the pounding got louder. Each step brought a new wave of throbbing, as if another old memory was trying to force its way through. Telling you, "It's my turn now."
Enver Gortash. The name reeks of familiarity. The syllables on your tongue feel sickly sweet, as if they had been uttered thousands of times. You find yourself whispering his name as you walk, feeling a warm comfort embrace you. Your companions give you odd looks and you once again seem to be in a trance, walking through halls you know you've walked down countless times, walking towards... walking towards what?
Stopping in your tracks you reach into your fractured memory trying, pleading, for another hint. Nothing. Only that sweet name and a moment of quiet from the tainted blood rushing through your veins.
With much annoyance from your companions, you are ushered forward. They worry they'll miss the coronation, figuring Bane's chosen won't wait forever. But, deep down in your flesh rotten soul, you know he will. You know he will wait for you. You have a feeling he will, and has, done far more for you and a mix of terror and warmth fill your heart.
You also feel guilt. Why? You turn towards your partner, who you've been through the last treacherous months with, and they smile at you. Ah, yes. This is warmth that is supposed to be there. You love them. That, you are more sure of than anything. But, the guilt remains and festers and grows, ever looming, the closer you get to Gortash.
Finally, you reach the throne room. You feel out of breath, like you've just walked from Amn to Waterdeep, but you couldn't have walked for more than five minutes.
You tentatively raise your head and look at the man who stands maybe 30 feet in front of you and memories rush back.
You recall the first letter you received from Enver, requesting you meet with him to discuss information not fit for paper and pen. Meeting him for the first time and feeling a sense of camaraderie, though he was, of course, greatly below you. He was a mere chosen, you were directly from the blood and body of your lord Bhaal, but the sense of superiority faded slightly as you listened aptly to his plan for the Crown of Karsus and the Elder Brain.
Fasctinating, you had thought, referring to both the plan and the man himself. By the end of the meeting he had captured you. Not yet your heart, but certainly your interest. You had never found yourself interested in much, but he seemed to be on your mind quite a lot.
You met once more, then again, and again, and eventually you met nearly every day, no longer talking about merely the plan for domination. You ate and drank together, you recall he always prepared your favorite roasted dwarf for you, and for some reason the Urge was quiet around him. Not sated, but a dull thud rather than the roaring quakes that wracked your brain.
When your feelings had morphed from respect to friendship to... more, you didn't know. It felt almost as if those romantic feelings had always been there. You prayed to Father every day for His forgiveness, you could feel His rage with you because of your feelings towards His rival's chosen. Your only act of defiance towards Him, until recently. The only weakness in your stone heart, Enver Gortash. You prayed for forgiveness, you prayed for understanding, by the gods, you prayed for His approval of your relationship. But, your feelings were met with disapproval and quiet seething. Luckily, He didn't seem to care too much as long as you continued to fulfill your destiny, to feed your Urges.
Your thoughts continue racing with memories as you stand frozen on the elegant carpet that led to your former... what? Was he your former lover? Gods, the feelings repulse the current you, the you that you've worked to become, but the Urge, who you were and who you've left behind, swells with joy. You didn't know you had ever been capable of that. Smiling, laughing, and drinking to promises of eternity whispered by that ever convincing tongue.
Joy faded to anger. Why hadn't he looked for you? Surely he knew where you were, why hadn't he come for you? Why did he leave you? Why are you the one to find him? Were a few words from Sister (...who?) really all it took for him to abandon you? He sat back and let that wretched woman in the colony do those things to you, there was no way he didn't know what was happening. He let you be taken on that nautiloid. He let his own forces, your own forces, target you again and again. He let you be mocked by the wretches in Moonrise as they gazed upon you, knowing what you did not. And he let your heart be taken by someone else. Now he stands before you as if you had just gone out to grab some milk from the store. As if he didn't know you were now planning to take his life as you had countless others.
All of these thoughts came and went through your desecrated brain as you approached him. Him who was smiling at you. You fight the urge to smile back, muscle memory seeming to have not yet faded, and steel yourself to confront your ex-lover. You reach for the hand of your new love to ground yourself and see his eyes trail the movement, his liar's smile dropping for a mere second.
As you finally meet his eyes that barely hide his hurt (what right does he have to feel hurt?) your struck with one more memory. One you really could've done without. The sounds of skin on skin, of screams completely different to the ones you heard from your victims. Your face grows hot and your cheeks redden, the tips of your ears feeling hotter than the infernal engine in Karlach's heart.
"Ah, my favorite assassin, it appears you do remember me." He flashes a charming smile at you and your heart feels a familiar flutter, and then... guilt.