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There was an exciting atmosphere in the Grand Theater of Baldur's Gate, the nobility and the rich merchants all gathering in the foyer. It was a show of appearances, to give the impression of being interested in art to make sure you weren't perceived as too shallow. You were a patron of the arts, a paragon of culture. It was always good to be included in the opening of something new, to be able to boast about it the next day when the Baldur's Mouth Gazette hit the front door of your manor. To be able to tell someone that you were indeed there when 'A Pleasurable Deal' was performed for the first time.
Enver Gortash walked in the theater, knowing that all too well. If anybody knew how important it was to be seen at the right moments with the right people, it was him. Clawing his way from the streets to the polished marble floor of the estates in the Upper City, he knew the game he had to play. He was aware of his position, precarious in his standing and in a need to be needed by the highest lords and ladies.
He knew what was desired by him, both from the men and the women. He was the new player in it all, the rebellious one who had mastered his way inside the door. A man of the people, a faint aura of danger around him, unpolished but brimming with potential.
"Lady Jannath, what an honour to have been invited to watch the play from your balcony," he crooned as he pressed a kiss on the older woman's hand. A fine arrangement, he provided her with a sliver of youth and she provided him with opportunities and investments. There was a blush creeping on her face, almost matching the last red that remained in her hair.
Her daughter standing next to her with an expression that didn't betray her irritation. He greeted her with the reverence a women of her status deserved, he might need her support one day. Even she couldn't go in between this comfortable position he had with her mother. For once, things went how he wanted them to go.
"Enver, can you be a dear and order some refreshments. Fi and I will already go to the balcony, better view to see who is in attendance from there," she said with a small smile on her face.
"As you want, Lady Jannath. Your wish is my command," he replied smoothly. She just laughed as she made her way over to the entrance for the balconies in the theater, the place where the well established nobility would be seated. A place that he deserved, one day he would be there without the help of anybody else. It would only be his name that would have carried them there, that would be on the lips of any of the insipid idiots that riddled the nobility.
It would be his playground one day and everyone would dance to his wishes.
"A bottle of your finest champagne for the Jannath balcony," he ordered with a grin at the bar, he would always get what he wanted from Wisteria, there was nothing that she would deny him. An almost whole new wardrobe? No issue. Investments in his trade without even having to explain that it was illegal weapon? Done without blinking. All trades to spend time in his arms, there were many worse deals that he could think of.
It was a profitable arrangement but he was still the odd one out. Only the companion of the Lady, only there for her amusement. If he got her to recommend him for a position of the Parliament of Peers, they would have no choice than to realize that they needed him. From there he could get out of the arrangement and get involved in more power. He just needed to be patient, it would all come true because he made things a reality.
The foyer was filled with people, the loud voices almost drowning everything out. It was impressive, the first time that he had entered the building it had been overwhelming to see the beauty. Art lining the walls, the golden details always shining and the molding so intricate that it was almost a piece of art itself.
It was always a roaring place, where silence never took root.
Maybe that was why he noticed her, maybe his eyes were pulled to her for another reason. She was standing in front of a painting of a sunset over the Chiontar. A recently painted one from an artist that was only just starting out, Oskar Fevras. It was like she was taking in the painting, like a small oasis of quiet in the chaos.
The noise almost didn't seem to bother her as she stood there, intently having her eyes scan the portrait. It was so different from what he had seen in there, like she was also the odd one out.
"It's a beautiful painting," he remarked as he went to stand next to her. If she was surprised, she concealed it well, her eyes still fixed on the painting before her.
"It looks so peaceful," she replied as she looked up at him. She was beautiful, a delicate face with freckles scattered over her cheeks. Big purple eyes that looked into his eyes, almost as if she tried to read his expression before she looked back at the painting with a look that almost was shocked by herself.
"My apologies, my Lord. I shouldn't be addressing you like that," she said quickly.
"No apologies necessary, not a lord yet. I might be the one overstepping, my Lady." There was a soft laugh when he said that, a laugh that would drown in the noise if you didn't pay attention.
"Not a lady at all," she replied. The blue dress she wore had given it away, too simple for the tastes of the nobility who operated on the motto that everything needed to be embellished. Her beauty could still outshine some of them.
"I am sorry but I should make way to my seat," she said before she turned away and went over to the regular entrance. Before she entered, she looked back. He was still watching her.
There was no explanation why he almost hurried to his own seat in the balcony, his eyes searching for her when he sat down next to Wisteria. He could see her light brown hair after a while, sitting there without talking to anyone else and only looking in front of her. Not interested in what happened around her, her eyes only fixed on the stage.
"A gift he sought to win his lady's heart. Our cambion smiled, for now the game did start."
Under the guise of ordering some more champagne, he went back to the foyer as he had seen her stand up during the break as well. After the order had been pleased, he looked around to see her standing in front of another painting. The starry night sky above the Chiontar, the continuation of the painting she was looking at before.
It hit him then that she wasn't performing like most of them were. He was performing to be the perfect companion to Wisteria, others were performing to be better than who they were. She wasn't. There was an honesty in how she stood alone.
"Enjoying the play?" he asked when he approached her. A smile lit up her face, showing dimples on her cheeks. It was radiant and excited.
"Very much, I hope you're enjoying the play as well," she returned the question.
"The same for me, there is an edge of reality to it," he remarked.
There was almost a small sigh from her side, something she quickly recovered from. The little difference in emotion quickly concealed. There was a small performance to her, it seemed.
"A fan of Oskar Fevras?" he asked as he turned towards the painting.
"I'm not an art connoisseur, but they're beautiful. They feel so calm, like peace is a place in Toril." It was spoken in an wistful tone, so delicate that even he could feel it. How it would feel to look over the water into the starry sky. Maybe he would feel a peace then, maybe then he would feel calm.
They stood there for a while, just admiring the painting. A small bell announcing that the play would continue. It was as if he got ripped out of reality for a bit. She was still standing next to him as she looked behind her.
"I should go and make it to my seat in time," she said.
"What's your name?" he asked with urgency before she disappeared into the crowd again.
"Octavia Moorehouse, what is yours?"
"Enver Gortash." She smiled slightly.
"Nice to meet you, Enver." She turned around and moved away from him.
"You know my curse, my pain, my grief, my woe?"
When the applause ended, he saw her stand up. It almost was like she was looking around as well. Maybe it was him imaging it, maybe it was something that he wanted. It didn't matter, he had plans and he would now need to prioritize accompanying Wisteria to her carriage. There was a small voice in the back of his mind.
You can always look if you don't see her.
His eyes danced over the crowd as they entered the foyer, hoping to catch a glimpse of that soft light brown hair or a glimmer of those purple eyes. He couldn't feel her presence, that calmness was gone, there was only the loud noise of performances. Now only in the foyer between the audience instead of the stage. It was including him who went ahead and plastered a smile on for Wisteria.
"Do I see you later?" she whispered.
He nodded, it was the first time he felt a pinch of regret.
Dark clouds obscured almost any sunshine to pass through them at the docks of the aptly called Gray Harbour. It was loud there, people yelling at each other, the sound of sea gulls, carts being pushed over cobblestone and the sound of the sea hitting the stone of the dock. Enver Gortash didn't mind the chaos most of the time, chaos concealed a lot and underneath was where the order was found. Everyone here had its own place and role and everyone knew how they had to act.
He was overlooking a delivery made by ship, a few delicate packages included in them, some materials for a very specific weapon. The Zhentarim already putting some crates in the right place, some of his men checking if it was correct. One of his security standing guard next to him, the quieter of the two. He didn't need Karlach to go ahead and talking the ear off from the Zhentarim.
"By Bane's hand, relax a little. Gortash. If you get more tense, you'll transform into fucking stone," Rugan laughed. A cheeky smile on his face and always a look of amusement in those blue eyes. One of his man approaching with one of the crates, the smokepowder and the darksteel visible. He nodded towards Rugan and felt a slight weight fall from his shoulder.
"Drink at the Elfsong?" he proposed.
A year had passed, a year where his rise had begin to increase. More high-end clientele wanting the weapons he designed or he imported although it was rather illegal, more nobility taking his advice and reaping the rewards.
A year where he had gone from Wisteria Jannath's toy to someone that was now included in conversations for his utility. He had been patient before, he could be a little more patient. One day he would soar above them all. His reign would be like the roaring sun.
They turned away from Flymm's Cargo towards the Lower City, the sounds of the harbour being exchanged for the city sounds. Loud voices, merchants peddling their wares and a bard playing a tune at a plaza. There was a small crowd forming around them.
"Ah come on you grump, let's check it out," Rugan laughed as he drove his elbow to his ribs. It was a halfling woman singing, dancing around with a violin. Music notes appearing from around her and flying over some children who became giddy with it.
The only thing in his mind was business and Bane. One day, Bane would appoint him Chosen, he just knew it. He would bring this city under his rule and other cities would follow. He would never have to fear anything or anyone anymore.
"As his head was in the sky, he would have never know."
"Is this amusing to you?" he groaned as Rugan started to clap with the beat of the music. Rugan just gave him a big smile that made him realize that the man was indeed an idiot and would find this amusing.
"If he never looked at the crowd, he would have never seen."
A couple started to dance along, the crowd growing larger and the clapping along became louder and louder. He would have given anything for a nice frosty ale or a good glass of wine instead of standing in this pointless crowd.
"Oh, how the man was blind. Or would he finally see?"
Something pulled at him, like a cosmic shift that made him look in a direction and to actually see what was there. Crushed in between the crowd, there she was. The purple-eyed woman that he had seen in the theater, Octavia Moorehouse.
The day after, he had tried all his connections to find out about her. All the leads ended in the Outer City where she was thrown out of a house when her mother had died when she was fifteen. There was nothing else about her, it was like she had disappeared in smoke and had only emerged in that theater.
He had been to every play that Wisteria had wanted to see in the hope of seeing a glimpse of her, him looking at the audience instead of the performance.
There had been other women, women who had big eyes like her or had that same shade of light brown hair. None of them had what she had, that disarming honesty that she had radiated. How she looked at things without the performance of people looking at her, almost like she didn't want to be perceived at all.
That was how she was again, her eyes fixed on the bard and a soft smile on her lips. He almost felt frozen in place, she had not been a figment of his imagination. She was real and she was standing there right there, close enough that he only needed a few steps to be close to her again. It was like he couldn't look away from her now he had seen her, like all the sound had grown quiet.
People started clapping when the bard started to bow and she clapped along. Her eyes were still drawn to the performer, not to the crowd around her. She reached her hand in a little bag along her hips, drawing out some coins to leave into the hat left before the bard. The crowd started to break away and he felt like he woke up from a slumber. He couldn't let her go, not now.
"Octavia?"
His voice was swallowed by the other voices of the crowd as he pushed past people to see the back of her head. To see her walking away from her, maybe to be seen again a year later. He couldn't run the risk now, not now he had seen her again.
"Octavia!"
There was no doubt that she heard him as she stopped, there were a few seconds before she turned her head to see who had yelled out her name. For a moment, the thought that someone else could have done the same crossed his mind. That another would see her and see what he had seen, even when it felt so personal to him. That another would have shared a moment like that with her, that someone else would mean something to her that they might be screaming her name in a crowd.
Her eyes met his. He pushed someone else aside without any concern, he only had to make his way over to her. To how her mouth slightly fell open out of shock and how confusion had held her expression hostage. How she took a quick inhale, everything was just focused on her. The world could have ended around him and he wouldn't have noticed it.
That was until she turned and started to run.
And he ran behind her in pursuit, he couldn't let her go, not this time. His mind was racing as well as his boots hit the cobblestones.
Why did she run? Why did she not wait? Had he done something wrong? Had he lost the opportunity when he hadn't hurried to the foyer in the theater?
"Octavia!"
"No, you should let me go!" she shouted while turning and running up stairs.
He followed her up the stairs.
"Why?" he yelled back.
"I am not who you think I am! I will ruin you!"
"Please!"
"Forget me, please!" she yelled.
She disappeared before his eyes and reemerged on the roof of a home. The last thing he saw was her ponytail as she jumped down where he couldn't see her.
Someone had once told Enver Gortash that when he wanted something, he got so obsessed with it until he got it. It had been a boon to him, he knew that it was. It had carried him when nights had been bleak and when he had stared up at the ceiling with a fierceness that he would make something of his life. That his name would be the one on everyone's lips and everybody who doubted him would hang their head in shame. It had been something he had been proud of.
Now he could stand in a ballroom, surrounded by Baldur's Gate finest and he had to pretend that he wasn't disappointed that she hadn't walked through the door. The disappointment had been buried underneath a thin varnish of nonchalance, necessary to keep up his own facade. Performances had to be given, the right people needed to be flattered and he still had plans of his own.
It didn't stop him for searching out for her, through crowds and soirées. That she would forget her own warning and would one day show up. That maybe the more his name was known, that it would make her change her mind more. That he just needed more influence, more power, more place in the minds of others.
"You saw her, didn't you?" he had asked Rugan, hoping that it wasn't like he feared and it had been a figment of his own imagination.
Rugan had seen her, she was real and she was out there in the city and she slipped through his fingers like smoke.
It had only aided him on his path to make himself the one thing that the city needed, the advisor that the nobility had to trust because he always seemed to have things right. It was easy when you controlled the threat that was hanging above their head. It was easy when you were the one keeping your finger on the pulse.
And it worked, he was leaning back in a chair with a weapon design before him, rubbing his temples after returning from another one of those parties where there had been a gnawing feeling of disappointment when the one person that he wanted to see hadn't shown up at all. He was moving up the social ladder, quickly enough to warrant security which showed that he was gaining momentum. This one thing that he wanted was running away like a ghost from the past.
He could still hear her voice when his head hit his pillow at night, could still see those purple eyes when he closed his eyes. The moment where the sun had broken through the sky to illuminate her face, like even the sun was in anticipation to touch her. It was like he was a smitten school boy and not the man who had plans to rule the world.
It was most vexing. He'd combed through every archive for a scrap of her name, he'd used every connection that he had for a word about her. Through the Guild, the Zhentarim, other illegal organisations that could give him the information if they had heard about her.
Maybe it had been that it had driven him to a slight moment of insanity after another play that he attended where she was not there. It had been almost in a frenzy that he had written a note and had tucked it next to the painting. Small enough to where it wouldn't draw too much attention.
I need to see you.
I will take your ruin.
Please, find me.
It was another day when he found himself in another art show at the Jannath estate, there at his own accord and not because of someone else. It had been his own name on the guest list, it was a start. It was a clue that everything was the way how it had to go, even if the name of some of the artists were also called upstarts. He couldn't have missed this one, the name of one of them imprinted in his mind. He could still see the paintings with her before it, how she had been studying it like there had been so many more meanings behind it.
It was foolish to think that she would be there as well, looking over the paintings with the same reverence as before. Not to be seen, not be perceived as something that she wasn't. Honest in how she would stand there, as if she would look over and he would know her.
Not this phantom haunting every situation where he found himself in, not this person who had almost begged him to let her go.
The beginning of the afternoon had been with greeting the right people, exchanging pleasantries. Performing again for the people that held the key to his own power in their hands. Smiles and laughter exchanged like currency, the right topics for the right person. It was easy to slink back into it, to put on the mask and to just do that.
There was another continuation of the paintings that he had seen with her, the sunrise. The one that almost reminded him of her, how there was a soft quality to the painting as the rays of sunshine were illuminating everything on its path. How there was an almost golden quality to it.
Now there was something else that had his attention pulled to, something that he shouldn't have focused on. Sketches, maybe there to show patriars that he could make portraits for them or maybe there because it was a divine intervention at that point. The face he had been looking for, the exact expression when he had seen her, focused on something else and almost unaware of the perception of people around her. This veil of a barrier that was almost waiting to be lifted.
He couldn't help himself as he lifted up the sketch, the painter almost looking unimpressed to see what had gotten his attention. Just a quick sketch, something that had almost little value to him. Enver Gortash didn't know if he was disappointed that somebody had seen her in this way or if he was elated to have the proof of her existence in his hands.
"Where did you see her?" he asked. It was hasty and maybe too eager.
"Saer, I sketched that only a few moments ago. She -"
In the corner of his eyes he could see a figure opening a door, the door that he knew lead to the garden. He didn't let the man finish but went in pursuit, hoping that he wouldn't be too late. That he wouldn't see her disappear before him again.
She sat on a bench, there was a stillness around her that he almost didn't want to disturb. The sun was kissing her skin as she was bathed in daylight. Maybe it was a dream, maybe this wasn't real and he would blink and she would be gone.
"You're persistent."
She was there.
"I have been told, I have a reputation for getting what I want," he replied as he sat down next to her.
"Your reputation does precede you," she laughed.
"I had to see you again," he admitted.
"You don't even know me," she muttered, "You have an idea of me, but what if it isn't who I am? I'll disappoint you."
"You won't." There was some music drifting in from inside, there were some birds chirping and the sound of the city around them. It was like it didn't reach them, as if the world had been reduced to only that bench.
"I will, I always do," she said, "I haven't been able to get you out of my mind."
"Call it what you want, I want it."
"I don't need you to save me, but would you run away with me?"