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Hear my plea Bane, Audi preces meas,
Hear the plea of your Chosen, Audi preces Electi tui.
Audi preces meas, I confess to you, Bane
To the Dark Lord
Domino Obscuro,
Libera me ex eius potestate.
Release me from her hold.
Enver Gortash was not a man that made rash decision, he was not a man that let his feeling guide his decisions at all. It was something he had always held in high regard, to be pragmatic about any of the decisions he made, always calculating what would give the best outcome for him. Ever since he had left the House of Hope, his decisions had paved the path to the success he had now.
He was not the man to take a fleeting fancy to things, to have his own mind clouded with anything that could bring his goals in danger. He had been faithful to Bane, had been only focused on the plan. He was the perfect Chosen, he had done everything with a care that was palpable to everyone. The perfect Archduke, the perfect Chosen, the perfect ruler. A mask that hid anything, a facade that was infallible.
Until it wasn't.
"I am yours, I am fully devoted to you, Black Lord."
When had it been? Maybe it had been that one evening, that one evening that split his mind apart. When she had entered the room and had entered his thoughts at once, maybe it had been like an enchantment that he couldn't resist. A new name, a new face. In an instant he knew that she was different, that she was like him. Peering in from the outside, mirroring the appropriate behaviour that was more like a performance and a perfectionism that hung around her.
Maybe it had been when he saw her dance, how she had moved with a precision that was learned, that had been perfected. It wasn't something casual for her, it was more than that, it was a careful scheme to blend in. He should have stayed away, let her dance with the other men.
It wouldn't be the first time where he had let attraction die on the altar of his discipline and willpower. It wouldn't be the last time where there had been a temptation placed before him, he should have resisted. He didn't. Maybe temptation had won that round from his steel will.
It was like she knew all the right words, all the right steps and all the right indicators to give a performance that was perfected. All until that arrow was launched and he was pulled to the floor by her. Those purple eyes looking at him like she had been revealed, he knew he had been correct in that moment. At that moment, he knew that she was like him, an outsider who had taken a place here. At that moment, he had been even more intrigued. As she walked away and turned around.
The grave disappointment he had felt when he had sent for her and a blue-eyed blonde had appeared in her place. The evening where he had gritted his teeth at this disgrace, at this turn of events. It should have made him enraged, how someone dared to lie to him. No, it had only intrigued him even more. Now he had to know about her.
It had been months of every connection not bringing up any information, months of when he looked if he saw those purple eyes in the crowd. Months where his dreams was plagued with the woman dancing around with him, months where sometimes his thoughts were occupied by her.
"I have been only focused on our mutual goal. I have given everything to dominate it all."
It was when his plans seemed to crumble around him as she had appeared again at the end of the Audience Hall, his eyes had only been focused on her when she had entered the room. Blood splattered on her face and a blade on her back, she had entered the room as a warrior yet she stood before him shrouded in a veil of uncertainty. It was too early to remind her of what had happened, he had a name now.
Octavia.
It had been easier to trace her down now, so much easier. Where he should have lingered in the victory of being crowned Archduke and having those rogue True Souls allied with him, he had been feverishly giving out commands to find out more about her. As a parched man who had its first taste of water and wanted to drown himself in it.
He had justified it by saying that was only because she was the appointed leader of that little group, had justified that you needed to know about fickle allies. He had given it a purpose to deny his true intention, to bury that gnawing feeling that just craved to know more about her.
It had been fate, there was no other explanation when he had found out. The infernal leash still tied around her, the same one that he wore before, still plagued by the same horror that he had endured. It had opened up opportunities, it had unfolded a whole new path that he could take.
Maybe it hadn't been wise to search her out.
"I have been your most steadfast believer, I have served you with everything in me."
It was only to ensure her loyalty, it was only to remind her of the alliance and to bind her to that alliance, that had been the only reason. To make sure that she was in debt to him, a favour that he would be able to trade in another time. There was no other reason for it, why he had made his way over to the Elfsong Tavern and had promptly rented that room next to theirs.
Where she had entered with an apprehension, expecting punishment as it was what she had been taught. How fear had been etched into her face when he had revealed that he knew which master he had served, he would have never thought that it would make him feel like that.
Almost like he actually wanted to help. Like he wanted to be her saviour.
It was preposterous, he had shaken it from him when he had left the room, it was only a trick of the mind. A test of his faith, a test of his resolve. It was nothing more, nothing more than that. Nothing more as his mind wandered over during meetings to how she had smiled over her wine glass, only something to push away in favour of discussions of strategy.
It was a provocation from Raphael when he had tempted him with her, with this perfect replica before him. It wasn't her. He had told himself that it was a good thing, that it was a show of how his power had amassed if even Raphael had been threatened. It wasn't like he had thought if there had been a punishment for her after the cambion had left his quarters.
It wasn't like he sought her out when he went into the city that evening when he had run into her. It was good of him to go out on the street and see if his plans worked as intended. Not like when the dagger had been at his throat like he had lost any words that he had rehearsed in his mind, when her eyes had looked as an animal trapped in a corner. Like the threat that she could pose.
It wasn't any dagger, it was Stillmaker. The dagger he had created for Durge, to be a companion to his crossbow, to signify the alliance and bond that was between them. Now against his throat again as a test of faith, as a divine sign. How could she have found this blade if it wasn't the herald of more? How could he deny what was displayed in front of him, that this was an alliance that was meant to be. That it was an approval of what was lost, it was another sign that this was what fate wanted.
"Black Hand, You know how much I have dedicated to You."
It was to gloat to Raphaels corpse if asked why he had entered the House of Hope, it was only to see him and Haarlep destroyed. It wasn't for her, not when he had heard a guttural scream and he had realized that it came from the direction from the boudoir. It wasn't care, it was being smart to follow up on an ally that could be helpful. It didn't mean anything more when he saw her sitting there hunched over the mutilated corpse of Haarlep, the dagger tearing its way into destruction. The dagger in her hands, clasped with white knuckles and her body covered in blood.
It hadn't been anything else than curiosity as he had looked at her, to see what power she held. It wasn't anything else when he was the only one who reached his hand out to her, when she put the dagger in his hand, when he had held her as they walked towards the exit. Leaving it all behind, going towards a future where the blood of his enemy was smeared on him because of her.
No, he shouldn't have invited her over for dinner. To have her across from him, to invite her to another dance, a plot to trap her and to make her loyal to him. It wasn't like he had longed to have his hands on her body again, like he had thought about kissing her for months or that he had thought about making her fully his. To claim her in a way that he shouldn't want, something that was not fit for a man who had been rational.
It was all part of his plan, it was all a part of it. To make her so dependent on him, to make sure that he was the only one that she felt stood behind him, to be the puppet master who pulled her strings. To be sure that her allyship was lasting and he would avoid having to deal with a fickle ally again, maybe binding her to him like this was the smartest decision. It wasn't the first time that he had used that technique and it had gotten him what he wanted at that time.
"I beg to you, Bane. Take this yoke from me."
It had been a mistake, he should never have touched her. From the first time his name had tumbled across her lips, from the first time that his lips touched hers. As if time stood still and it had only been them in that moment, as if the world had revolved around them at that point.
How he could still see her before him when she gave in, when the last resistance had given away. How the look in her half lidded eyes had burned inside of him, feeding the part of him that wanted her.
"I can't hold back any longer."
"Don't, I want you."
Perfect, she had been perfect. Every part had been vexingly perfect, from her moans to her skin and the way her freckles were stretched from her face over to her shoulders. Not even the scars that Raphael had given her could take away any of how devastating her beauty was, no, the scars were like a mirror or a string tying them together. So different but also the same, like they had been marked by fate to be destined to meet. A cruel punishment to give away to something sweeter.
It had been the night where things had changed. Every time he blinked or closed his eyes, it was always her that he was, every time he heard something he had hoped that it was her. As if the wind was calling out her name when he sat at this very same desk, as if the warmth of the sun was like her touch. As if any of the purposeful discipline he had build was futile against her, as if she was his original sin. As if it was like it was a blight on his faith, as if she was like a devil tempting her away of his right path.
"My Lord, have You sent her to me? Is she a sign from You?"
Her voice, her touch, the way how she blushed, the way she moved, the way looked at him. Like he was salvation, like he was her saviour, like he was the only thing to root her firmly in reality. It drove him insane to think about it, that out of all the times he had clawed himself into relevancy and had fought to find a place to co-exist, she looked at him like he was a person. Like he was just a man, not this myth he had created around himself, not the mask he wore, not the Archduke, not the Chosen. She looked at him like he was a man she desired, like he was only a man before her.
It had been obvious to him that he was playing with fire, not only tempting it. No, he was inviting it in. When he had everything so close, there had only been the smallest crack in his armoured defenses. Octavia had taken it and had crawled in it.
In the steam of the bath, it had been her that made his mind spin. How she had looked up at him while she massaged his hands, the gentle care that she had weaved into the gesture that was palpable. Even the gesture itself had been filled with a kindness that he had pushed away in favour of cold, disciplined indifference, not because she wanted something from him. It was because she wanted him to feel comfort, because she didn't want him to feel pain. She had guided his hand to her lips and kissed it.
Those purple eyes had looked up at him as if he were the whole world coalesced in one man, as if he was the only thing that mattered. It had been intoxicating, it had been more addictive than anything that he had ever felt. To hold her, to keep her close had been more like a need. Anything about it being nothing more than allies felt like an affront.
"My Lord, is she a test of my faith?"
How she had chosen to stay with him, how she had made the deliberate choice to refuse her companion in favour of him. It was still cloaked in this sliver of plausible denial, something they could evoke if it was wanted. He could say it was only a part of keeping an ally close and she could deny that it even had happened to begin with.
Even if that infuriated him.
This wretched feeling of having it all cloaked in this mystery and deceit, having it so it could be denied from both of their sides. As if in a moment it could all be denied, not like it felt like a sacred moment that was ripped away from everything that had kept them apart. As if doubt could be cast on what had been simply been shown before him, as if the lingering touch of her fingers on his face had all been an illusion. As if them caressing the scars they both shared was not the acceptance of the damnation that they had shared. As if it hadn't been real when he had held unto those moments for the past days.
As if the whole world could see her, out in the open and in the light. Basking in the illuminating rays of the sun, sheltering her own feelings behind the idea she had of her own sacrifice for people who would cast her out. Not like him, not like he would let everything fall to ruin for her.
Even if that thought scared him more than anything.
As if for her she was cloaked in the darkness and the shadow. Only moonlight reaching her, making her like the brightest sky in the whole sky. Maybe it was for the best, maybe it was only him who could see her in that way, maybe it was only something reserved for him. Reserved for her until they could steal a moment in the sun.
When the pieces would fall into place, the world would turn around and her dimples would be the only things he could see.
"Bane, am I disappointing You?"
Hatred had been coursing through his veins like an all-consuming poison, steering every decision that he had made. What could a man do who had been thrown away from everything that should have protected him? What else could he become than a man festering in resentment that had built around him like a well-forged armour? He had a goal, one goal, to have all the control so he could never be put in the same situation again. If he held all the strings, nobody could surprise him and more important, nobody could hurt him anymore. If they all knelt down at his feet, there would nobody who wouldn't do what he wanted. It would be complete control of every situation.
Now as he had seen her walk out of the door and with the gnawing feeling of wanting to be seen returned to him. He'd kept up this lie to himself, that she was only a pawn, only a part of the plan. It had never been like that.
She had never been like that.
From the moment he had touched her hand for the first time, from the moment he had taken Stillmaker from her in the House of Hope, from the moment their lips had touched, from the moment he had seen her scars, from the moment she had kissed his hands.
Had it ever had the chance to just be a ploy? Had it ever had the chance to be a little piece in his plan?
When their fates had been tangled together from when they were young, strings held up by a cruel master and like he could look into a mirror of what could have been. As if he looked at what could be, with her. A dangerous thought, a blasphemous thought
His personal quarters now losing their shine as she had left them, the bed now only an empty reminder that she had been there before. As if it her presence would be erased the further away she was from him, as if it wouldn't be real anymore.
"I plead to You, make her mine, let her only be mine."
There was no answer, no sign from Him. It had been in vain, Bane wasn't one to dole out frivolous gifts.
Did it please Him to see him in turmoil?
Did it please Him to see him squirm?
Did it displease Him when He looked down upon them?
"Why is her temptation so much stronger than my will?"
He closed his eyes, forcing himself to focus on the darkness. It was in vain as he could see her sitting before him, guiding his hand to her lips. There was no temptation lingering in her action, it was honest and disarming. Without she had known, it had pried something open inside of him.
With force he pushed himself away from his desk, taking a few steps away. It was in vain. He could see them both dancing, how their hands had lingered on the others body. How he had mapped out the way how she fit into his arms, her skin underneath his hands, trying to remember every single freckle she had.
"I will give you Toril, I will give you everything."
In a last effort to beg to Him, he sank down on his knees with his hands clasped together. A scream to please hear him, to please consider his words. The words of a desperate man, not the words of an Archduke. It was her fault, for her he could only be the man and not the symbol. She had awoken that part in him again, the part that would have thought that one day there might be someone who could truly see him, who could look past the mask and the walls he had built.
A Chosen turned to a beggar.
A Chosen pleading for something that he shouldn't.
A Chosen begging for a woman.
"Give me her in return, give me Octavia."
Her warm body against his.
Her careful gaze as he looked at her.
Her kisses that tasted like the sweetest fruit.
Her voice that reduced him to silence.
It was lust, a lust for her that couldn't be sated. It was lust, that was the lie that he had fed on. For lust was easy, for lust was something that could be remedied. Lust was only something that you could indulge in once, taking your fill of it.
It was more.
He needed her.
He needed her like he needed air.
He needed her like he needed control.
"I will do anything for it."
The silence persisted, there was no response. There was no response and as he looked up at the ceiling, he knew.
Silence was just that, it was no disapproval.
"I will do what is needed, My Lord."
He had his answer.