Chapter Text
Six miserable murderous months. Each kill savored by his lord master, but disdained by the very hand wielding the knife. Though there were some who considered him the savior of Baldur’s Gate, it was impossible to feel like a savior now. Not as he was forced to commit horrendous acts of violence, carried from one helpless slaughter to the next by the sheer will of Bhaal. He was but a puppet to his lord’s command, even as he screamed for release from the unending torment.
Tonight was a night like any other. Stained in days worth of ichor, ‘Tav’, as his friends had once called him, was once again on the hunt. There was no rhyme or reason to his slaughter. So long as blood was spilt, and the incessant dark urge planted within him was satisfied, it truly did not matter whom his next victim was. Mother’s clutching to their babes, guardsmen at their post, even, it seemed… his former companions.
Was it some lost memory that had brought him here? Yes… He could recall now. The party had agreed to meet in this very place six months after the carnage of the Nether Brain, to reminisce on their tale, and catch up. He could spot them all from his hiding spot amongst the bushes. Astarion, chatting with Wyll as they both drank their wine as Withers and Gale were trapped in some endless debate. Jaheria and Halsin lurked upon the borders of the camp, watchful eyes looking out for threats… Threats like him.
And finally, the very face he had yearned to see since the moment he had lost control. Moonlight caught upon the silvery hair that shaped around her face, casting an almost heavenly glow upon the priestess. Shadowheart appeared glum from a distance, watching the group but never seeming to really join them. Her eyes wandered occasionally, hopefully towards the edges of the camp. Could she possibly be searching for him…?
The thought made his heart race… before dropping. He could not go to her, not now. Not while his mind was commanding him to slay them all.
“Wait…” An all too familiar voice whispered within his mind. “When their merriment ends, and they return to their tents… You shall strike, my son.”
He recoiled against the very thought… Though another part of him knew he could not resist. The beast within was eagerly nipping at its cage, waiting for the signal from its master to be unleashed.
“N… No.” Tav managed to croak out, the very words attempting to strangle themselves within his throat. Defiance went against everything in his very blood.
“You -SHALL- strike.” The voice commanded. Only then did the otherworldly being take notice of the one Tav could not pull his eyes away from. “Ah… You long to protect your ill-begotten mate.”
“Lau…. Love… her.” These were the only words he could manage, and even they felt agony. In his time fulfilling his dark urge, he had been reduced to nothing more than a shambling zombie. A meat sack, performing at his father’s will. But she was all the motivation he needed to fight back against the darkness.
“And you shall love ripping her heart from her chest even more. You shall start with her.” The chill words echoed within Tav’s mind. The command had been given, and he could not disobey.
And so… he watched, and he waited. The night dragged on slowly, agonizingly. Tav knew he could not resist the sordid task placed before him, and so he held onto these precious last moments with the missing piece of his heart. Even from afar, she was just as beautiful as he could remember. Every action she took was savored, in hopes he could remember it over the look of fear she would no doubt wear when his blade slit her throat. The way she rolled her eyes when Astarion said something particularly stupid, the subtle curve of her smile. And the longing looks she continued to throw towards the outskirts of camp.
Finally, when his muscles were beginning to ache faintly from his continuous hiding, the evening's festivities began to come to an end. First, Halsin and Jaheria excused themselves. Followed very shortly by Astarion, and a very flustered Wyll. Withers vanished shortly after that, and Gale wandered off to gaze up at the stars. Until only the one remained, lingering by the fire. Surely she could not still be holding out hopes for him… could she?
“An excellent time for a reunion.” That horrific voice urged, and he was powerless to obey. Even as he screamed within his mind to turn back, to find someone else… Anyone else to be his prey, his feet carried him forward. Through the thick bushes and trees around the camp, until he stepped forth into the clearing. In one hand, he clutched Orin's blade.
“... It can’t be…” Shadowheart rose from her seat beside the campfire, eyes widened in a combination of shock, adoration… and fear as she noticed the blade he held so tightly. “Tav.” She whispered, hands raising. It was not the first time he had tried to kill her, after all. Another night, many many moons ago, she had laid with him as the beast tried to break free. That night, she had been able to subdue it. But tonight, she would not be so lucky. A mangled, sloppering groan was all he could manage in response. He wanted to scream at her to run, or better yet, to burn him to ash with her holy fire. Despite all his wishes and desires, all he could do was take another menacing step towards her.
“Resist it, Tav! I know you can!” Why was she still standing there? She had not moved so much as an inch, even as he was beginning to close in on her. This was it. His movements were mechanical, dominated fully by the dark urge within him. A hand clasped around her throat, silencing her next pleas. The blade was raising even as he tried to force his hand to drop it. Trapped within his own mind, all he could do was watch in horror as the shimmering metal was placed against Shadowheart’s throat.
“That’s it. Bathe yourself in her blood.”
“I…” He choked once more on his own tongue, before swallowing hard. A look into the terror-stricken eyes of the one he held dearest gave him the strength he needed to finish his words. “Love… you.” Such simple words, but they gave him the strength he needed to shove Shadowheart away with his free hand. Every movement made against his father’s urging set his very veins on fire, a pained shriek escaping his lips. He would not allow it to end this way. Better that his darkness be snuffed out, than her light. Raising the blade, he swiftly plunged it down into his own gut.
“You FOOL!” The voice within his mind raged, even as he collapsed to his knees. Dark, vile blood was beginning to pool around him. The blood of Bhaal… The blood of a monster. Maybe he truly was the hero of Baldur’s Gate, his last act of heroism to put down the beast he had become.