Gods, how stupid you felt. When you began to sleep with Gortash behind your respective god’s backs you had intended for it to be a simple fling, maybe blackmail in the event he ever decided to back out. The last thing you wanted was to catch feelings for him.

As a Bhaalspawn; there was a certain standard you were expected to uphold. Your hands were supposed to be marred with blood, not tangled in his hair after a long night together. Your lips were meant to recite prayers and converse with your father, Bhaal, not to journey over his neck and shoulders. You were supposed to leave nothing but chaos in your wake, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to slip out of his comfy bed before dawn anymore.

Your letters were private, personal. They held a certain vulnerability you did not share with others. Except for him. You weren’t entirely sure how he got his hands on it, your best guess was Orin had dug it up and waved it around to mock you in the presence of the other Chosen. It didn’t matter much, he never brought it up, possibly because he knew it would only end with your dagger through his hand.

Still, you knew he knew how you felt. You knew his ego had inflated at least twice its size when he found out about the letter - so the fact that you had found him in bed with some noble was sickening. His words, even more so.

“It was nothing, you’re getting upset over nothing, you know that? In fact, it was blackmail - how am I meant to rule if I can’t engage in a little dirt gathering. How am I meant to advance in life if I have to look over my shoulder for a jealous, seething dog who can’t keep its fangs to itself?”