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Midnight had taken over the city and cloaked it in its dark embrace, only a few stars breaking the darkness. In normal situations she would not be nervous, she would be grateful for some peace and quiet. Not having to worry about her new husband milling around her. Gods, she had even been elated when he had announced that he would be spending the whole day at the Foundry. A whole day that she was able to spend without him, it would be a reprieve from all the time they had spent together since she had arrived in Baldur's Gate. From staying one step in front of Durge to battling the Netherbrain with Durge and their companions. And then when the brain was dominated, the betrayal of Durge. He wasn't the same person that Gortash had started to work with, he was a liability. And after there had been the wedding planning and the wedding itself. They had almost been fused together all this time, it had been a relief to spend a day apart.
She had taken the longest bath, enjoyed breakfast while reading, getting ready without remarks on her dress choice, had gone off into the city with only one guard without Enver complaining that it wasn't enough and had returned to read for the rest of the evening. It had been annoying that he hadn't returned in time for dinner, which she had enjoyed with a book as well. More stimulating for the mind, she had thought.
But now, a feeling of fear was taking a hold of her, piece by piece. Had something happened? A rebellion? An assassin? The crackling fireplace now sounded more ominous. Maybe she should have accompanied him, she could have read there just as well. She rose up from the armchair, not able to sit still. She walked over to the terrace, as if she could look at the city and see him in the streets. The cold night air enveloping her. Unless he had casted a very strong light cantrip on himself, she wouldn't see him. That her mind knew but in a part of her heart she had just wanted it to be true. Leaning with her back against the battlements, she sighed. Had she started to care for the man? Had he wormed himself in her heart? Was this what it meant to care? Always having to worry. It was a horrible feeling, it felt like pure insanity. He must have put a spell on her, there was no other explanation. He would have to explain himself when she saw him again.
If she saw him again.
She was debating if she could send out a group of Steel Watchers as a rescue mission when she saw a figure move in the dark. A figure that was moving a bit weird, another pang of fear in her stomach.Her body reacting in ways that she hadn't felt before about this man.
"Enver?" she asked. She could smack herself, if it was an assassin then they wouldn't announce their arrival or answer to her. But she did hear a small groan in reply, a groan that she recognized. Her legs carried her to him, moving out of their own will, her sleeves flowing around her. His face in the light of a torch, her heart almost calmed down again.
"Sweetheart, I never thought you would run to me like that." A chuckle from his side, her eyes rolling in reply. A reply was brewing inside of her when she saw some blood on his face. Her eyes started scanning him until she saw the gash on his upper arm, his coat cut . A deep and jagged cut that was filled with congealed blood. His cane being gripped tight, leaning more on it than usual. Without thinking she carefully took his arm so she could inspect it better. Not that she was any cleric but it didn't look good.
"Don't worry, I just need some healing potions and I'll be fine."
She pulled him into their quarters with his other arm, hurrying him along. Why did she feel so anxious? Why did she feel so a hurry in getting him better?
"Get your ass in one of the armchairs, I'll give you the healing potions there." The potions were quickly located as her eye fell on their bathing room. Did she need to clean the wound first? There had always been people available to heal her, there were people in the Fortress now that could heal him. But something made her feel like she had to do it. She retrieved a bowl with water and a clean cloth, she conjured a mage hand to carry the potions for her.
"Take your cloak and shirt off, " she ordered when she arrived back at him, the mage hand dropping the potions in Gortash his lap.
"My love, if you just want to see me undress than just say so," he teased. Even in pain he was still the same damn bastard. It almost made her want to take the potions and put them away again. But as he was taking the coat off she assisted on the hurt arm, making sure the fabric didn't cling to the wound. When his shirt was removed, she moved to kneel next to the chair with the bowl before her. With the damp cloth, she dabbed the blood away. Careful, so soft that he wouldn't be able to feel it. She was so concentrated that she couldn't see his face, a look softer than she had ever seen, following every movement of her hands. When she was satisfied with the result, she looked up at him.
"I think it's fine for you to drink the potions now." She had expected him to say something but he only opened the health potion and drank the contents. The wound that she had cleaned started to close up, the skin stitching itself back together. It was almost as if it never had existed. It wouldn't be one of the many scars that adorned his body, it would be fine.
There was a moment of silence between them, her hands still on his arms. A feeling of reassurance went over her, he was fine. Why did she care so much that he was fine? Why did she care that it wouldn't be another scar on the tapestry of his body? She felt how he moved his arm, his hand cradling her cheek and making her look at him. It felt like a rock had dropped on her when she looked into his eyes. With all the time spend, all their conversations, all their arguments, all the nights spend that in between there she had started to love him. She had started to love Enver fucking Gortash. The bane of her existence, the thorn in her side, she had started to actually love him.
Shit.
In that moment she felt overwhelmed, the warm feeling spreading through her mixed with another fear. What if he didn't love her? What if this wasn't the same for him? What if it was still just convenient for him? She shouldn't feel like this, love didn't grow out of arrangements like theirs. Her stomach twisted together. Feelings she had never felt before. She couldn't admit it to him.
"My love, that was sweet of you." Something in his voice made her want to admit it. Had it always been like this? When had he done it? When had he enchanted her? Was it when she had laid on his chest and he played with her hair? Was it when they had fought side by side? Had it been while they were scheming in front of their political allies? Somewhere in between there, it must been that. She almost lost all her words.
"I can be sweet, sometimes."
"Come here." As soon as she sat in his lap, his arms pulled her close to him. His usual scent of wood and leather still there, it almost smelled like home. She buried her face in his neck, not sure if she wouldn't say anything stupid if she looked at him.
"There is something, isn't it?" Not like she could just say what she felt, they just weren't like that. He would say something snarky back like usual and usually she wouldn't mind. But with this? It almost felt too fragile to show, like she could break like glass. Like she didn't want to break whatever this was.
"Maybe," she muttered. One step closer to the edge, one step closer to no way back now. A daunting sight. He moved so he could kiss her on the hair. So delicate, so sweet. It made her heart swell. Gross.
"I wonder what's brewing in that head of yours. Look at me." So she did, she left the safe space of the crook of his neck to look at him. Gods, he looked divine. She could kiss every crease around his eyes, every little scar on his face. She was pathetic.
But he only smiled, not that smug smile of his. It was something different, something softer. Had his eyes always looked like this, like he held the sun in his arms? Had she been blind this whole time? Maybe, in between everything he had started to love her too. Maybe there was this sliver of chance that they both felt the same thing. She tried to search for the word but nothing came. There was only him. How could she explain?
"Have you finally come to the same conclusion?" he asked almost like a whisper. Her heart almost stopped, she almost couldn't breath.
"I know, it was the same for me. One day I was calling you my love as a joke and the next day I realized that I meant it." So he did feel it. He did. It wasn't just her or her imagination. He felt the same way.
"I love you, Seara." He did. He did. He did. He did. He did. He did. He did. He did.
"I think I love you, Enver." They just looked in each others eyes for what felt like an eternity. Holding on to this moment for as long as they could.
It had been her who leaned forward for a kiss, not a kiss like they usually shared. Not hungry or full of lust. No, a slow kiss, no pushing or pulling. Something sweeter than that as she felt her heart rise. Like it could almost burst open. She felt so safe, she felt so loved. When the kiss ended, their foreheads still touched as she gazed into his eyes. A smile crept up on her face, she wouldn't been able to push it away if she wanted.
"I could say this forever if it made you as sweet as this," he said.
"It would lose its charm," she replied. A laugh shared between them. Her hands tangling themselves in his hair, his hands cradling her face.
"I love you Seara Gortash." The fireplace crackled as they kissed again.