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Chapter Text

Cedar had awoken to a bloodless dawn.

His heart grew light, his mind unburdened by the clotting and cloying urge that had ruined the lives of many… but there was one whose life had only been improved by his darkness.

A man like the finest sussur blossom, a treasure native to his first home. A man that could not bloom in the light.

His heart ached for Enver Gortash.

His heart ached for the darkness he had been bred to thrive in, it ached for the boy behind it all.

A boy who was too bright to fit amongst his peers and too poor to make use of his intellect. A cobbler’s son, an inventor; a passionate and misguided boy. Smart enough to escape the cambion he’d been sold to, dumb enough to become involved with the Heapside Reavers. A felon, convicted of petty crime after petty crime.

A hypocrite had Enver Flymm become.

His black fist had grasped the trauma of his past and inflicted it upon all who grew close to him. It took all Cedar had to recognize and accept that Enver did not have to continue the cycle of abuse, that he chose to do this. No matter his feelings for the man, he had to do this for Karlach. He had to do this for the people of the Gate.

He had rejected Bhaal, he got rid of his darkness. As much as Cedar wanted Enver to do the same, he knew he wouldn’t. He knew how important control was to the fragile inventor, and even more, he knew how terrifying the world was without a gilded cage. 

“You’re joking - right?” Karlach had scoffed, flame licking and spitting from their skin. Cedar winced under their tone, “I know you did not just ask that.”

Cedar locked eyes with the enraged tiefling and shook his head, “Karlach… you know how much I care for you, I just - you have to understand where I’m coming from.”

“No!” Karlach barked, “he isn’t like you, Cedar! He cannot be ‘redeemed’, he is evil! You have a heart, you have a soul,” they roughly poked his bare chest, “there is nothing in there for him.”

“He has to…” His grizzled voice shook and he shut his eyes. He could feel the entire camp looking upon him in judgement, he hated that his emotion shone through his finely manicured façade. “I am not asking that we spare him, Karlach. I know what he did to you, okay? He deserves to suffer for that, I just…”

He opened his eyes and looked at the tiefling, he damned the realization on their features, he damned the hurt on Karlach’s face.

“You—” Their face twisted, “you can’t redeem everyone, Soldier! There is no shred of goodness left in that man— he’s hollow!”

Cedar ruffled at that, “the same could have been said for me, Karlach.”

Their expression tightened with a scoff, “That isn’t fair, and you -”

“Do not forget that I was worse than him.” Cedar snapped bitterly, feeling all of the eyes in the camp look on the pair with trepidation. “Even as I have torn my father’s influence asunder, I still maintain the bloodied hands of a butcher. No penance will remove the wretched , crimson stain that my blood has left on this city.” 

“You might have killed hoards of innocents, Soldier,” Karlach pleaded, “but he ruined what was left of the living.”

“Under control of the only God who heard his prayers.” Cedar combatted, deadly serious. He could hear the druids of the party begin to stand, ready to intervene. “This hatred, the malice that he carries is not of his flesh and blood. It has been cultivated , it is an adaptation.”

Halsin and Jaheira grew closer, and Cedar found his heart steadying. They knew more intimately of Cedar’s past than anyone in camp. They knew of his cruelty, and his passion for redemption, but most importantly: they both knew intimately what his relationship was with Enver Gortash. They both knew that such a bond was nearly impossible to break without mutual destruction. 

But as he looked at Halsin’s face and recognized the telltale draw of his lover’s brow, he could understand: they cannot understand, and they do not have to. This is your burden to carry.

Cedar steeled himself and flicked his gaze back to Karlach. 

“You know as well as I, Karlach, that this is a very tricky situation.” Cedar conceded, voice level and calm. The tiefling bristled. “Enver Gortash has done unspeakable things, vile and malicious things.”

“He has.” They nodded.

“And I will see him repent for that,” Cedar assured, squeezing Karlach’s shoulder. “But I…” He felt a sudden emotion clog his throat and he briskly sniffed, “I need to say goodbye first.”

“Are you serious?” Karlach looked upon the half-drow with a stubborn disdain.

“Deadly.”

They shook their head in disbelief,  then nodded. 

“ Fine .”

Dread settled low and sharp in Cedar’s chest as he scaled the walls of Wyrm’s Rock Fortress. Lute on his hip, his clothes finely pressed, the scent of fresh herbs and patchouli clung to him; a side effect of sleeping in bed with his druidic lover. He knew Enver wouldn’t mind, but then why did he feel so damned uneasy. 

In the back of his mind, he knew he could be convinced to spare the tyrant. He couldn’t just kill him, he needed to see if Karlach was right; was Enver hollow? Was he made from the same infernal iron that he spent his life studying? Was he heartless?

Or was he that young boy Cedar’s thoughts had been plagued by? He was scared, angry and petulant because he was terrified to be hurt again. The boy had to run until he found shelter, but would not let any behind his walls unless they could keep him safe.

Surely he could convince Enver to take on a new last name once more if it meant safety without cruelty.

“Enver?” He called as he swung in through the window. 

The Tyrant jumped and quickly dispelled a protective rune that was moments away from being triggered. His face squinted in equal parts amusement and annoyance.  

“Cedar, you’ve returned .” He appraised the half-drow.

“I loathed to be away.” Cedar grinned sharply, moving toward the Banite. 

Gortash scoffed and turned back to his work, but the blush that spread along his neck was telling of his fluster. He waved off his attendants and they hurried out of his grand office, leaving only two steel watchers to hold vigil. Cedar looked to the metal behemoths and exhaled shakily before approaching Enver’s desk.

“Do you have time to speak?”

Enver furrowed a brow and looked up, “Unlike you to ask for what you want, Assassin.”

Cedar leaned against the polished mahogany and held Enver’s gaze, “it is now…”

“Ah.” Enver nodded, abandoning his papers and turning to gaze upon the bard. “My time is unfortunately in high demand, but I suppose I can spare a moment.” He winced as he stood, then motioned to the adjoining bar. “Would you like a drink?”

“Mm.. yes. I’ll have whatever you fancy.” Cedar’s scarred lips curled into a fond smile and he offered an arm to the Banite. Gortash sneered at the offer, eyes flickering to the cane he had stored away, then sighed and grabbed Cedar’s bicep for support as they crossed toward his bar. 

“Your small kindnesses make me incredibly uneasy.” He admitted as they grew closer. “It’s as if I can feel Bane’s fist closing around my throat. I’m sure you remember -” Enver settled on a stool and crooked his elbow onto the bar top, “my Dark Lord enjoys our cordiality as much as your father does.”

“They will forgive today’s transgressions, just as they have forgiven the rest.” Cedar hummed, his back turned to Gortash. “Now, relax while I find something worth drinking.”

A comfortable silence fell over the men as Cedar sifted through the contents of Enver’s liquor storage, eventually coming across a finely aged Waterdhavian Brandy. He pulled it out with a pleased smile and offered it with a lifted brow to his tyrant love. Gortash nodded, lips shifting into a nearly-hidden smirk, soft and warm.

“The news I bear is better digested with fine liquor,” Cedar admitted softly as he grabbed two crystalline glasses from a glass cabinet to his flank. He heard Gortash shift in his seat.

“What news do you bring?” He asked.

“It is a long story, to be sure.” Cedar began, feeling the warmth of Gortash’s gaze battle against the chill that settled the length of his spin in anticipation. He poured their drinks, “You are sure you have the time to—”

“I won’t have the time if you continue this incessant stalling .” Enver scoffed impatiently, taking his glass and raising it to his lips. 

“I died.” 

Gortash’s eyes softened, as did the rest of his features, he lowered the glass before he could drink any of its contents. 

“I should not have been able to be revived, it was only because of divine intervention that I stand her now” Cedar continued. The tyrant did not move. “I… I couldn’t become my father’s sword.”

“What? ” Gortash asked, astonished. “But, what of—”

“I killed Orin.” Cedar breathed, hand reaching to hold Enver’s. The Banite released a breath he did not realize he had been holding as his hand itched to return the gesture. “I slaughtered her on her altar.”

“Your altar.” Gortash corrected distantly, brows shifting pensively. “Not her’s, never her’s. She didn’t earn it.”

“I will concede.” Cedar nodded, “It was mine until my father arrived.”

“He—” Gortash’s features blanched even further and he lifted his glass to his lips. “You appealed to his sensibilities, of course?”

Cedar shook his head despite knowing Enver was not looking, “as I told you, Love, he had a plan for me. He wanted me to be his puppet, his pet— his instrument of murder. I could not allow myself to lose what I had found.”

“What in the Hells are you talking about, Cedar?” Gortash snapped, pushing back from the bar and stepping from his stool. He ran an angry hand through his tousled hair, “You refused the God of Murder— what were you thinking?!”

Cedar flinched away, then stepped forward, attempting to keep the tremor from his wisened voice, “I was thinking of you.”

“Do not dare blame your foolishness on me!” Gortash barked, black eyes flaming with rage. “You chose to abandon your God, I would—” He lifted a fist to his mouth, “I would never ask you to do such a thing.”

“I know— Enver,” He stepped forward and frowned when the Tyrant stepped away. He clenched his fists at his sides, “Enver, I will not sully my pride to beg you for your ear. I demand you listen to me and consider—”

“ Ha!” Enver cawed dryly, shaking his head and crossing his arms across his chest. His eyes radiated malice, his netherstone thrummed in time. “You do not have a sliver of command over me, you whelp.”

Cedar’s lip twitched and he inhaled deeply, “Just because I am no longer Bhaalspawn does not mean I do not have urges , Enver.” He warned darkly, watching as Gortash’s form straightened. “You would do well to remember all I have done to you— the new things I could do.”

“Your threats mean nothing to me.” Enver’s jaw flexed and he scoffed, “And what the hells do you mean, ‘no longer Bhaalspawn’? Are you mad?”

“Watch your tone, Boy!” Cedar roared, hand instinctively slamming with a loud bang onto the bar table. Gortash visibly cooled his temper under the violent demand and shook his head in realization.

“I forget your age often until you call me that.” He stated coldly, staggering toward the redeemed Bhaalspawn. Cedar, despite his frustrations, reached out to Enver in his approach. Enver, despite his better judgement, acquiesced when Cedar’s large hand grasped his bicep. 

“I should not have to remind you that I am your elder, your superior .” Cedar assured coldly, Gortash rolled his eyes to distract from the heat rushing to his neck. “You will show me the respect I am due and you will listen .”

“Or what?” The Banite tested, flexing into the tightening of Cedar’s aggravated grip. 

The half-drow leaned into Gortash’s ear with a sneering growl, his aged timbre echoing through the corridors of the Tyrant’s mind.

“Or I will rip you apart with naught but my voice and make a chalice of your bones.”  

He pushed the Lord to sit on his barstool once more and moved behind the bar. Silence enveloped the two as it did earlier, only now it was laden with tension. Gortash’s heat for the bard was combatted only by his interest in their abandonment of their father. Cedar’s heat for the artificer was combatted only by his need to know if he could be saved.

After a long few moments of quiet, Cedar was the first to speak.

“You could leave him too.”

Gortash’s brow furrowed, but his voice was soft. “What?”

“Bane.” Cedar breathed, not allowing Gortash to see the desperation in his eyes. “You could leave him and -”

“I should cut out your blaspheming tongue,” Gortash grumbled. “What makes you think I would ever do such a thing?"

“You…” Cedar rounded the bar and sat next to the Archduke, gaze raising to Gortash’s face. “I see you, Enver. I see the boy who trusted only himself to build a cage that could keep the monsters out.”

Enver scoffed and looked away, but Cedar grabbed his hand and forced his eyes back.

“You know nothing of me.”

“I understand you more than anyone else, Enver, and yet I must agree.” Cedar admitted softly, wincing to himself. He released Enver’s jaw and glued his eyes to the polished countertop. “I am freed of Bhaal, he has no hold over me anymore, and my blood is clean. I want that for you too Enver.”

“You don’t get to make that decision for me,” Enver said, brows drawn with an uncharacteristic sadness.

“I know.” Cedar nodded, voice wavering. “But I…”

Enver tilted his head, “what?’

“My people are going to succeed in sundering the brain, Enver,” Cedar stated solemnly, turning to look at Gortash. “They expect me to kill you today.”

A flash of betrayal peeked from Enver’s eyes. “Is their belief well founded?”

Cedar paused for a moment, then shook his head and looked away,  “I could not.”

Enver thought in silence, then said, “… why?”

“Because despite all you have done— all of the destruction we have caused… I am redeemed . I am free .” Cedar whispered, “Does a fresh start not sound nice?”

Gortash’s expression grew tense, “what do you mean?”

“If you give me your Netherstone, we can fell the brain and shatter this gilded cage you have built for yourself.” Cedar pleaded, reaching to hold both of Gortash’s hands. The dark lord allowed it. “Allow me to be your protection, Enver. Allow my voice to never stop singing your praise.”

Gortash scoffed as if to convince himself, “You’re foolish to think I would agree to such a thing.”

“We can build a life together, in the woods somewhere, live out our final years in comfort. Hells, we could even stay in the city and help rebuild!” Cedar prodded, hands noticeably shaking in Gortash’s grasp. “Does that not sound right?”

Enver pulled his hands away, then cleared his throat. “You’ve read me wrong, I’m afraid.”

“Have I?” Cedar asked, watching a plethora of conflicting emotions flicker behind Gortash’s eyes. “Would it not please you to live under your control, to live freely? You could still have your foundry, your work as a Duke. Just… allow me to provide for you so you may want for nothing— I would do it, Enver. I will take care of you.”

“I…” Enver shook his head, “It isn’t a question of if you would care for me, I know you would.”

“Then say yes.” Cedar pleaded.

Enver grew silent in thought, face pensive and eyes flitting with thought. Cedar watched expectantly, heart beating a mile a minute. His stomach dropped as Gortash’s eyes hardened.

“Either I leave this room with you…” Enver spoke aloud, in realization. “Or I never leave this room. Is that right?”

Cedar bit his scarred lip and nodded. Gortash shut his eyes and inhaled deeply, pondering his options.

“Enver, there is a good man in you. I see him when you are at rest, I see him when you listen to me sing. I see him over dinner, I see him scouring libraries for things worth reading.” Cedar begged, voice laden with desperation. “I see him in your letters. In the few memories I have left, I see a handsome, passionate young man.” Enver opened his eyes, almost sheepishly and looked toward his elder. Cedar smiled, suppressing a sad laugh, “The young man who danced when he finished his first Watcher.”

“I did not think you sentimental.” Gortash shook his head, fraught with reluctance. “I am no longer that young man, Cedar. I will remind you that I am fifty, and I…” A realization flickered across his face, “I have known you for nearly half of my life.”

“And not a moment have you been free.”

Gortash opened his mouth to object but found that he had nothing to say.

What will you do?

1) [PERSUASION] Convince Enver to choose freedom. (DC 20)

2) Take his silence as your answer.

3) Leave.

Chapter Text

1) [PERSUASION] Convince Enver to choose freedom. 

SUCCESS.

Cedar’s resolve doubled down under the silence he had received from the Archduke. He stood, slowly and with purpose, then rounded the bar once more and topped off their glasses. He swirled the amber liquid, then threw it back without hesitation.

Enver scoffed out a dejected laugh then, after considering the glass a moment, threw his drink back as well. 

While Enver’s eyes closed for the briefest moment, Cedar reached into his back pocket and pulled out a stained, dirty piece of parchment. The edges tattered, burned, and melted away. As Enver opened his eyes, Cedar slid it across the bar top.

“What is this?”

“Read it.” Cedar responded.

Enver’s nerves grew sharp at the stoicism in the ex-Bhaalist’s tone. He carefully, slowly, unfolded the piece of paper, eyes widening as he recognized his own script.

He scoffed at Cedar, shaking his head, “blackmail? If I was ever going to agree to—”

“No.” Cedar interrupted, a distinct lack of upset in his voice that only made Gortash feel more uneasy. “Not blackmail.”

Enver screwed his brows together in derision, then glanced back at paper, finally committing to reading it. His expression almost immediately softened to something akin to embarrassment, perhaps even wonder, at the old correspondence between himself and Cedar.

My Dearest,

       The day draws near that we finally get to enact our plans. Even with the geriatric Thorm hanging over— or rather, under— our shoulders, I feel a distinct pleasure in knowing that I will one day get to rule with you as my equal. I concede, there was once a time when this statement would have been untrue— a fallacy designed only to keep your attention, and expertise, on our shared goal.

       Now? Well, I cannot imagine life without you. I deign to even write it down, let alone speak it aloud - lest our dark lords reign retribution on our heads. I find that you bring a sense of safety, or maybe even peace, to my mind — as nauseatingly doting as that sounds. 

      All of this to say, you make me rather content. I request - nay, demand your company before the tenday is through.

                 Eternally,

                                E.

Enver scoffed, a clear front for the emotion hiding behind his eyes.

“How did you find this?”

“It was all I had when I awoke on the nautiloid.” Cedar said softly, as watching as Enver sniffed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was your last letter to me before Orin made mincemeat of me.”

Enver looked down, “not the last I sent, but I suppose the last you recieved.”

“Turn it over.” Cedar directed, his long, nimble fingers taking the corner to guide it in Gortash’s hands. The Banite allowed it and watched as an unsent response in sharp, red scrawl revealed itself on the back of the parchment.

Little Lord,

      The image of you and I astride a throne is one that slakes my blood thirst. In fact, my dear boy, it is the only image that threatens to usurp that of viscera shredding under my strings. 

      Even still, I will be sure to slake my thirst before arriving at your quaint foundry. I presume you would have me see and appraise your latest advancements. Ever the glutton for the approval of those superior to you.

      I jest. You deserve the praise I give just as you deserve the derision. Do not wait for me. Have patience, and by all means, continue your fine work. I will soon be at your side.  

                With all my heart,

                              Your Assassin

“I believe I was delivering my response to you when she…” Cedar breathed as Enver began reading the note, a sudden childlike nervousness claiming him. He watched the micro expressions on Enver’s face change as he read the note. His lips twitching, eyes tracking, waterline growing foggy, his nose scrunching softly.  “Know that I kept my promise. Know that the image of you and I was what slaked my thirst, not the idea of our rule.”

“Cedar…”

“I would have stayed at your side until my dying breath. No matter the bloodshed, no matter the outcome of our choices… I would have died for you, but now…” Cedar shakily reached to tilt Gortash’s wet gaze toward him. His scarred thumb dragged a stubbornly falling tear from Enver’s guarded expression. “I would rather like to live for you.”

Gortash shut his eyes and thought in silence for a moment more. Cedar’s hope dwindled the longer that Enver avoided responding. The hand holding his unflinching face began to shake with the dread that it may be the arbiter of Enver Gortash’s last breath. 

Cedar did not know what he would do if he had to slay the man before him. He did not know if he could make himself do it. His breathing picked up, almost unnoticeable in its quiet timbre. 

Then Enver opened his eyes.

He glanced up at Cedar with an expression that could only be described as lost.

He then glanced at his gauntlet and with masterful precision, removed it.

Cedar choked on his breath.

Enver slide the gauntlet across the bar.

“Sunder the brain.” He breathed, then stood shakily and rounded the bar on uneven feet to better hold Cedar’s face. A fierceness hardened his expression, “sunder the brain and live.”

Cedar’s face peeled in the brightest smile he had managed in over a century and tears fell from his eyes, painting his freckled plum cheeks just a shade darker. Enver fought a smile at the joy radiating from Cedar and rolled his eyes. The half-drow laughed, loudly and truly.

“By the Gods, Enver.” He beamed, eyes misty with joy as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Gortash’s. Tender, thankful, and so tangibly full of relief.

“Don’t look quite so happy.” Enver responded unevenly as his elder pulled away, trying to obstruct the anxiety clear in his voice. “I’ve just damned myself because of you.”

“No, not damned.” Cedar retorted, pressing his forehead to Gortash’s. “We have infiltrated and successfully stolen from Mephistopheles’ vault. We have built armies and destroyed civilizations.” Cedar pulled back only slightly, “We can certainly negotiate your freedom.”

“Apologies if I am not particularly confident in your ability to intelligently negotiate with my Black Lord.” Enver grumbled, a fondness in his dark eyes betraying his tone. Cedar smiled. “Wipe that smile from your face.”

“Why?” Cedar only beamed brighter, moving to cradle the tyrant’s face in his hands. Gortash petulantly tried to shrug off his touch, a lack of real struggle making his comfort in Cedar’s grasp very clear. “My love, I am about to sunder an Elder Brain - and should I win, I get to watch the sun rise over a peaceful Toril with you in my arms.” He kissed Enver’s forehead, eliciting a sigh from the shorter man’s lips, “I could think of no life more worth living.”

“You lack imagination then.” Enver grumbled, no bite in his words. “I…”

Silence followed.

“Yes, m’Lord?” Cedar prodded, carding his calloused index fingers back and forth over Enver’s cheekbones. 

Enver opened his mouth to speak, then paused, thinking.

“It has been some time since I have been… afraid.” He admitted quietly, looking guardedly up at Cedar. The drow’s brows pinched in concern. “The world is so vast, so unpredictable. If I…” He swallowed, face twitching in conflict as if admonishing the words he had wanted to speak aloud. “I feel doubt, loathing, when I think of redemption, of forgiveness. How could I expect anyone to absolve me of my evils if I won’t suffer the slightest of transgressions?”

“You think yourself a hypocrite?”

Enver scoffed, extracting himself from Cedar’s arms. “You think me mad.”

“No!” Cedar exclaimed, snatching Enver by his bare wrist and grabbing his attention. “No, I think you human.”

“You are a fool to not believe those words oxymoronic.” Gortash huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. He shook his head, “I won’t pretend to know what our future holds, Cedar…”

“Nor I.” Cedar responded, gleaming the conflict in Enver’s tense state. His heart begged him to approach, but his sanity had him stepping back. “But I vow to you, Enver, I will return to you.”

“Don’t -” Enver’s eyes widened and his hand instinctively shot to hold Cedar’s arm, “don’t go yet, you madman.”

Cedar raised a brow in confusion, “you want me to stay?”

“I…” Gortash shut his eyes, looked down shamefully. “Just give me a moment.”

Cedar gently continued forward until the smaller man was pressed flush to his chest. His broad, scarred arms wrapped ‘round Gortash’s shoulders and held him close. It took more than a single moment, perhaps more than two, but eventually Enver’s arms broke free of his control and his bare hands clung desperately to Cedar’s fine clothes.

“This isn’t the last time I will hold you.” Cedar promised softly, carding his fingers through Gortash’s hair. “Sequester yourself in my old quarters at the Bhaalist Temple.”

“Do not patronize me, old man. I will remind you that I am quite an adept marksman.” Enver responded quietly, begrudgingly comfortable against the pillow of Cedar’s left pec. “I could easily help you —”

“I’m sorry, I can’t have it.” Cedar rebutted, “as brilliant as I know you are, I fear your presence may be cause for division within my ranks. I do not want to rejoice the brain’s fall only to hold your funeral the very next day.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” Gortash acquiesced, albeit quite petulantly. “What of the Steel Watch?”

“What of them?” 

“Might they assist you?” 

“You would offer them?” Cedar grinned, touched.

“Hm.” Gortash grunted, “Don’t sound so pleased, I can always make more.”

Cedar chuckled, “that you can.”

Then, Cedar’s eyes widened and his heart picked up. An Idea.

“And, Karlach?”

Cedar could feel Enver scrunch his face in confusion, “I don’t see how they fit in this equation.”

“Their heart .” Cedar elaborated, pulling back just enough to see part of Enver’s face. “You used them as the prototype for bionic application of infernal iron… but their engine is just that, a prototype. ”

“And?”

“They…” Cedar sighed, “they’re burning up. On our travels to the city, we managed to find an infernal mechanic who could alter the engine enough to keep them from combusting on the material… but they’re going to die. Soon.”

“Pity.” Enver muttered, pulling back now as well. A tired sort of inquiry brightening his eyes. “I had issues with the Watch overheating on the material plane as well — though only at the beginning and never in contact with the body of a mortal.” He motioned one of the stationary Steel Watch toward him and they immediately began stomping over. “All of the modifications I had to make to ensure temperature stability would be, well, ineffective in controlling Karlach’s engine.”

“Is there any way that you could fix their engine?”

Enver pondered, nearly vexingly, for a moment and then stepped toward his desk and propped a thin pair of glasses onto his nose. He muttered a phrase under his breath, rendering the Watcher’s chest exposed, and motioned Cedar over.

“The size of the Steel Watch was a necessity, all of the components are needed and even then, barely fit. I had to work quite intensively to create such a well oiled machine - both literally and figuratively.” He explained, gesturing to the puzzle of gears, valves, pipes, and wires that sat before them both. “In order to create a sustainable engine for Karlach, I would need them the size of a Steel Watcher, I’m afraid.”

Cedar tilted his head, and eyes wide in thought. “If we could, perhaps, find a way to permanently enlarge them, would that work?”

Gortash grinned, and Cedar’s stomach fluttered. The face of that young artificer, the one eager for a challenge, the one eager for creation, appeared before him. 

“I suppose it could.” The gears in Enver’s mind seemed to audibly be turning as he gazed upon the watcher. Then, abruptly, the ground began to viciously quake. Enver braced himself against Cedar who stood steadfast and steady.

As the quake stopped, a sense of melancholy overtook the room.

Cesar removed himself from Enver’s hold, “it’s time.”

”No -”

“Take one of your Watch down to my quarters, Enver. Work there.” 

“Cedar -”

“I will soon return to your side.” He assured, hand cradling Enver’s cheek.

“I can’t let you go yet!” Enver pleaded, grasping Cedar’s wrist. “You move too fast, Cedar, I need time.”

“We don’t have time!” Cedar exclaimed sharply, regret and apology flooding his features almost immediately. Enver relinquished his hold on the half-drow hero. “We don’t have time, Enver. I’m sorry.”

“I…” Enver said haltingly, then exhaled, the mind of a tactician taking over. “I’ll go to the foundry and give you access to the Watch’s command. Then, I’ll… I will rally the Banites to defend the people. What is tyranny without the populace, after all?”  He sighed shakily, bit his lip in thought, then looked up at Cedar, “then I will wait for you.”

Cedar smiled, looking upon Enver with a softened expression, flooding with pride. 

“There’s my good man.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to Enver’s. The Tyrant, newly on the gruesome road to redemption, leaned into the touch with a desperation that tugged brutally on Cedar’s heartstrings.

He wanted to stay. He was so unbelievably tired. But this was his creation, his mess, and he had to destroy it. He could only pray to whoever listened that Enver be spared, safe in the Undercity Ruins.

As they embraced for what could have been the last time, their lips did not fight for dominance, nor did either surrender control. Instead, they melded together in perfect harmony. Both men came to the sudden and intimate realization that for the first time since they met, certainty did not seem to be a factor that they could rely on.

“I will soon be at your side.” 

A lifetime of joy, and work and love was just out of reach, if only they had the chance to take a few more steps.

“Promise me.”

“I do.”

And this? It was the first.

“With all my heart.”

Chapter Text

2) Take his silence as your answer.

Cedar’s resolve doubled down under the silence he had received from the Archduke. He stood, slowly and with purpose, then rounded the bar once more and topped off their glasses. He swirled the amber liquid, then threw it back without hesitation.

Enver scoffed out a dejected laugh then, after considering the glass a moment, threw his drink back as well. Cedar watched Enver brood as he set down his empty glass, those bloodshot black eyes darkening by the second.

Despite his memory loss, he could remember the man’s ticks, his tells. He watched as Gortash’s scarred thumb ran back and forth over his netherstone and his heart sank.

Even now, he was thinking of the Brain. Even now, he was thinking of how he would gain control.

Cedar turned his back to the Dark Lord and let his facade of stoicism falter, face grimacing under the crushing weight of his next decision.

He promised Karlach.

He was coming to say goodbye.

By the Gods, what a fool he had become.

“Your silence concerns me, Enver.” He muttered, turning only slightly to look over his shoulder. “Tell me you’ll make the right decision?”

He heard Gortash shift in his seat more than he saw him.

“I am… the chosen of a God. Our Lord Bane is lawful, he has a rigid dogma, and it falls to me to enact his plans and desires.” Gortash responded matter-of-factly. “I have heard your points, Cedar. I won’t pretend not to… enjoy the concept you have brought before me, but freedom begets uncertainty. I’m too old to be so uncertain again.”

“You’re never too old!” He whipped around, not bothering to mask the all-consuming hurt that framed his very soul. Cedar heaved in a deep breath, holding an extended finger to his lips in thought. “You have the choice, Enver. If you enjoy my plan, take it. Be with me.”

“It isn’t reasonable!” He barked, tongue sharpening against his teeth as he jumped unsteadily to his feet.

“What of life is?!” Cedar retorted, voice cracking.

Enver flinched under the emotion, face curdling into a visage of discomfort.

“Don’t act as if my response is surprising.” He scoffed with a slight sneer. Cedar shrunk under his reproach and Enver laughed . “You have certainly fallen a great height.”

“You have to hit the ground before you can plant roots.” Cedar replied, voice all too gentle for Gortash’s comfort. “I do not need to be above you.”

“Is that all?” Gortash taunted brazenly, gripping the bar top for stability and gesturing mockingly at the bard. “If you don’t mind, I have a city to claim, armies to rally.”

“You don’t understand. I am asking to help you.” 

“In this state?” Enver scoffed, turning from the half-drow with a mocking chuckle. “Why in the Black Lord’s name would I let an amnesiac assist in governing a city? I cannot vouch for your ability and I certainly will not be the one to put you back together.”

“That’s not fair and you know it.” Cedar retorted coldly. “I am not asking you to put—”

“Alright,” Gortash interrupted with a clap of his hands. “I think it’s time you go, I have too much on my plate to concern myself with this.”

Cedar felt his heart begin to splinter. 

“You’re joking, aren’t you?” He all but begged, watching as Enver turned his back. “But, what of our history, was it all for—”

“There is no history!” The words spat from Enver’s lips in an outburst of emotion. His lips curled and eyes narrowed in virulent hatred. “You are not Sicarius! I would have done it for him, I could never, never do it for the likes of you.”

“I am Sicarius, Enver.” Cedar responded shakily, stepping toward the Lord. “I… I love you.”

Enver wavered at that, his eyes struggled to focus on the inaccuracies to the Sicarius he knew, the Sicarius that he loved. This was no changeling, nor a doppelganger: but was a false copy all the same. 

He regarded Cedar as if looking through him, then cleared his throat, a sense of finality in the word that next left his lips.

“Pity.”

Cedar nodded, eyes miles away, considering. He felt as though everything had begun to move in slow motion, his heart betrayed its steady flow, his consciousness floated, expanded around him in a way that left him unable to speak the words he so desperately desired to share. 

This was it.

This was the final curtain.

“Enver.”

“No.” He retorted with a sneer,  “If you’re going to attempt to sway me, it isn’t going to happen.” 

Cedar wrung his fingers and squinted his eyes shut, “a memory recently returned to me, Enver. I- I will not force your hand, I cannot force your hand, but I know you want more than this kingdom of oil and brick.”

Enver, for the slightest of moments, looked as if a tinge of regret crossed his mind. Then, as if Bane himself had intervened, the ground quaked aggressively, sending both men to brace themselves. When the ground ceased its rattling, any hint of trepidation had escaped Enver’s features. Instead, it was replaced with the zealous over-confidence of a man on a holy mission.

“Darling, I know you don’t—”

“Do not pretend to know me.” Gortash spat as he made his way to his desk. “Sicarius would have disembowelled and lashed you until you repented for this show of insolence. I am chosen, you are disgraced, you would do well to—””

“SILENCE!” Cedar screamed, guttural and primal. The sheer volume of his voice, broken and twisted in timbre, scared him for the briefest of moments. His scarred lip quivered as he looked upon the aghast Dark Lord. 

Then, he hopped the bar table and began to advance.

Memories flooded him as his speed toward the Archduke increased. Spurred boot grinding throats, finger nails pushing up through skin, knives scribing songs in flesh, the death rattle of drums, the fear horn of screams, the gut string harp— oh his harp—   the explosion, the implosion, the fire, the poison, the filth - and Enver.

Oh, Enver Flymm.

Before he knew it, his hand was wrapped around the Black Lord’s throat, tears freely falling down his hollowed cheeks. He was met with only a glare of derision.

“You don’t have the strength.” Gortash choked under the hold. Cedar stifled a sob at the sight of what he had lost.

The final loose end to be tied.

“You don’t have to love me.” Cedar responded tearfully, fist closing tightly around his throat as the sharp talons of Enver’s gauntlets tore into his wrist and steel-toed boots brutalized his shins. “I am a dead man either way… you don’t need me, but please just choose freedom. For yourself .”

“I would sooner die than bend to your pleas.” The Dark Lord garbled, his desperate clawing and kicking growing more and more frantic.

“Okay.” Cedar’s voice was reedy with acceptance of his duty as his free hand brushed the hair from Enver’s face. The Lord writhed, realisation dawning in his dark eyes. “Many years ago, I promised you that I would make your death something beautiful. I promised and even if you…” He shook his head, “even if this world has not spared you, even if you have chosen to further this cycle of hate -”

He shoved Enver onto the floor with a shout, where he attempted to recover in a gasping heap of black and gold. Cedar laid a kick, hard and fast, into his diaphragm and elicited a noiseless cry from the prone lord. 

“I will see it done.”

“You aren’t Sicarius,” He rasped, pushing away as quickly as possible from the half-drow looming darkly above him. “This isn’t your promise to keep!”

“It became my promise the day Sicarius died.” Cedar replied softly, following the fallen lord with a predator’s grace. “I’m sorry it came to this.”

“It— wait!” Enver held a hand toward Cedar, making a last bid for his life. “Is there no compromise to be had?”

Cedar’s pace stuttered, focus broken only by hope.

“Would you compromise?”

Enver nodded, but his eyes did not lock onto Cedar’s. The half-drow noticed only a moment too late that the Archduke's eyes settled far above his shoulder, and then?

Heat.

Searing and all encompassing as a Steel Watcher’s gargantuan hand enclosed his shoulder and began to crush. He let out a rabid, pained shout as the deception of his former lover processed in his mind. He knew in an instant that if he still held Bhaal’s blessing that he would not have been able to control himself from devouring the man in front of him.

Rage. Hate. Grief. All burning hot under his skin, bubbling into blisters. His sadness popping the pustules of restraint and revealing raw, wrathful skin. 

“SCHEMING BRAT!” He bellowed, voice ragged and piercing and so far gone with fury that he could barely even hear himself.

As he forcefully tore himself from the Watcher’s hold, he heard a bolt fly into that very same, mangled shoulder. He felt it grind against the bruised socket and bone, gritting his teeth to keep the pain alive. He whipped around to face the Steel Watcher and with a strained muttering of components, felt lightning course through his veins and slowly build into a violent fullness — threatening to explode from him. With a final shout, he thrust his hands to grip the behemoth’s bulk and pumped all of the electricity flowing under his skin into it. He felt the heat die, even as it seared his hands with blistering, infernal energy. 

As it fell, he felt another three bolts wedge into the muscle of his back and whipped around to face the dark haired lord. Gortash, with an undeserving amount of confidence, smiled. Cedar leaped toward him, and felt a bolt lodge into his stomach. His lightning hand glowed bright as it came in contact with Gortash’s jaw, sending blistering heat down the thick arteries of his throat and throwing his head back.

“I don’t want to do this any more than I did an hour ago.” Cedar gritted out as they stood in stalemate. Gortash’s crossbow aimed point blank at the half-drow’s heart, Cedar’s fingers crackling with lightning that begged to find purchase once more on the Archduke's bruised neck.

“Then forfeit.” Gortash responded gruffly, eyes paranoid and glued to Cedar’s hands. His index finger begged for a reason to pull the trigger, but something was holding him back.

“I can’t leave here until I know that you won’t hurt another innocent without honourable cause.” Cedar pushed, unmoving but readied. “Swear to me that you won’t and I will only leave with your stone. I will slay the brain with my family and you will never hear from me again.”

Gortash considered the man in front of him, then considered the Watcher he had dropped in one masterful strike of magic. 

“If I break that vow?”

Cedar bristled, but held his position.

“I will find you and I will make sure you know pain in your final moments.” He assured Enver, “I will absolve you of your transgressions. I will make you into something beautiful.”

Gortash held still in contemplation, then pushed back from Cedar with a deep, almost shaky breath.

“Alright.” He masterfully removed the netherstone from his gauntlet and held it to the hero before him. Cedar took it without question, hand still crackling with electricity. As the stone hummed with eldritch potential, Cedar watched Enver begin toward his desk and set down his crossbow.

“Thank you.”

“Get out of my office.”