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The warm water around her made her muscles relax in what felt like the first time in weeks, the faint vanilla and lavender scent permeating the air. The steam felt like a gentle embrace as she let herself drift deeper down the tub. A content sigh escaped from her. It was received by a chuckle as she saw a silhouette leaning in the doorway.
"Is the foul mood over?" he asked, all too full of himself as he stepped closer.
"Enver, don't push it," she replied, not wanting to think about it too much. Family affairs, Saverok and Orin having to be lead like a pack of feral toddlers. They were stuck in the past, where spectacle and grotesque slaughter was expected. Now it was more about a high amount of death, not who could make the prettiest display. It had made her head hurt and she had taken off to the only person in the city who she could go to. She had unleashed a whole tirade on him, knocked over his paperwork and had almost strangled a servant. But the only thing that he had said was that she needed a warm bath. And the bastard was right.
"It's a bit better," she admitted. His own self-indulgent smile plastered on his face, his gaze roaming over her.
"I take that you want to join as well."
It was like the statement answered itself as he pulled his shirt over his head. She could pretend that he was the one who orchestrated but she knew him too well. This was just what she thought would happen, just what she needed to take her mind of things. There was no harm in him believing that this was a situation of his making, for this one at least. He was so eager as he undressed to join her in the tub on the opposite side. His eyes locked on hers as she felt his legs pressing hers closer together.
"What a nice invitation of you, assassin." His hands closed around her ankle, moving it upwards. His thumbs began to push circles on her feet, slowly massaging the ache out of them.
"Don't pretend like this isn't what you wanted, tyrant," she replied. She couldn't be more sharp when he massaged her feet like that. She always wondered if Bane was pissed off when he did something like that. If he would be punished like she was punished by her Father. When she looked at him, she didn't want to think about it. Wanted her own mind to shut off. His chest was too inviting.
With another sigh, she pushed against the water to move over to his side of the tub. His eyes being even more intense as she came closer. She let her back lean against his chest, his arms enveloping her. His warm breath on her shoulder, one of his hands interlacing his fingers with hers. A tenderness that had been torn out of her life too soon or perhaps never had been there. Intimacy was banned a long time ago. Maybe that was why she was so drawn to him. Like she was starved and he was her only source of food.
"I never pretend that I don't want this, Lys." A nickname, a pet name. Not the crushing feeling of titles or her name tainted with disdain. No whispered fears or curses. No witty quip, just a nickname from someone who knew her. A small smile appeared on her face as she felt herself relax against him. It was so calm and peaceful and so warm. She felt her eyes get heavy, his other hand tracing lazy circles on her hip.
She felt so light, like if she didn't weigh anything. But she moved, she could feel that much. She opened her eyes to be pressed face first against Enver his chest. A faint smell of the bath oils still lingered. Had she ever felt so warm and safe? Not that she could remember.
"Oh, you're awake again?" he whispered with a smile on his face. Not his usual self-indulgent one, no, a sincere one. She was put on his bed, still one of the softest that she had ever felt. He was in a bathrobe, eyes quickly hovering over the desk where she had found him.
"Please, stay," she asked as she scooted over in the bed to leave place for him. She just wanted to feel him beside her. To feel how his heart was beating, the rise and fall of his chest. Not befitting of her station, not befitting of the Daughter and Chosen of Bhaal. Only what Achlys wanted, what she just wanted so desperately. To feel his warm skin next to her, to make her realize that she was alive and not just a weapon wielded by her Father.
Without protest he slid in next to her, his arms pulling her closer so her face was placed on that delicious chest of him. The chest hair softly tickling her face, feeling better than any pillow in the world.
"Seeing you like this, you would be surprised that you're Bhaal's Chosen," he said softly as he placed a kiss on her hair.
"Don't presume anything, Enver, I could still tear your aorta out of your neck," she muttered softly. It didn't mean that she would just because she could do it. It earned her a soft chuckle. It was a song and dance that they always played together.
Her leg hooked around one of his, like if they would be torn apart by their deities. Caught in between the tugging of two Gods, cursed from the beginning. Every touch, every word spoken that wasn't for the plan almost felt stolen. A storm brewing that they both ignored as much as they could, hoping that it would blow over and not pour down on them. It was still benefiting for both Gods, a sliver of leeway that could be afforded now. Maybe there was a small pang of pain reflected through her, she would never lead a normal life.
There wouldn't be unlimited mornings where she would kiss his cheek and laugh about his wild morning hair. There wouldn't be the usual, domestic chores of evenings cooking dinner together. There wouldn't a little child running around with his hair and her eyes. That made it sting.
The only thing was to hold on to him as she could now, press a kiss on his chest and drift to sleep in the safety of his arms. Not to lament of a life that could have been in another universe but never could happen now.
"Good night, Lys."
"Good night, Enver."