[fic update] they Rest
Enver Gortash x Durge (Solace), part 5.
*
Solace wanted to tell him everythng then and there, all their favorite kills, their best work, their bloodiest deeds. The bright-eyed detective who delved too deep into the sewers. The captain all those years ago who they hung from the mast of his ship, face twisted and frozen into a perfect scream. The tiefling child.
They didn’t. They felt the rushed intensity of the feeling and though they weren’t quite sure what it was or how it worked, they recognized it as impulse, and Solace knew to be wary of their impulses. Still, they felt the want. The only ones who’d known about Solace’s deeds outside of the temple had been at the other end of their blades. Even the assassins regarded what little they heard of Solace’s kills with fearful respect. Nothing like admiration. The butler admired them, sure, but Sceleritas was a sick and twisted thing who shared Solace’s gruesome disposition. Gortash had no reason to appreciate the murder and yet he did. If Solace wasn’t so disciplined, they could’ve drowned themselves in the feeling.
Instead they ate, content to rest in Gortash’s office, or perhaps to wander back to the temple at daybreak. Their elven body needed little rest. But the night carried on and they watched Gortash continue to pour through his work, eyes bleary, head heavy.
“You need to sleep.” Solace broke the silence.
“I told you not to interrupt me.”
“You’re falling over in your seat. You’ve been muttering the same few phrases for the past ten minutes.”
“Leave, then, if it bothers you.” Gortash spared a moment to glare at them, but his annoyance was weak through his fatigue.
Something occurred to Solace. “This is why you get stuck during the day. You’re not rested enough to focus. Are you always pushing yourself like this?”
“This is nothing.” Gortash stood then, annoyance giving way to anger. “I am perfectly well and I will sleep when I am tired. Leave me in peace.”
Solace bristled. Stubborn, arrogant man. He was tired already. “Fine.” They stood and looked towards the door, considering their options. They’d thought their partner reliable, and he had been. But now they knew. He could be better, if he only looked after his stupid mortal needs.
Instead of walking out, Solace walked over to Gortash and drove their boot into his chest. He crashed to the floor along with his chair.
Gortash pushed himself up, fuming. “What”—
“If you’ll sleep when you’re tired, then you’ll spar until you’re tired.” Solace went in with their elbow and Gortash deflected them, but it was sloppy. “Assuming you’re doing as well as you say, you’ll put up a good fight.”
“How dare”—
Solace drove the heel of their palm into his throat and Gortash choked mid-sentence. “If you can hold me off for seven minutes, I’ll leave you to your neurosis. But if you go on like this, you’re sleeping even if I have to knock you out. I need you at your best. Do we have a deal?”
“Fuck you.”
“That wasn’t a ‘no.’” Solace’s next strike went low into Gortash’s ribs.
Seven minutes. He didn’t make it to five. Gortash was weary hours ago, but Solace was freshly fed and strengthened by the rush of their hunt. They could’ve gone all night. Solace moved fast and pressed their every advantage. Gortash seethed with silent fury but his blows were imprecise. His anger burned through what was left of his energy and he soon hit the ground again, Solace restraining him with ease.
“Sleep. You’ve lost.”
“I haven’t lost yet.”
“Yes, you have.” Solace loosened their hold and let Gortash struggle for a moment before pushing him down again, bracing his chin with their forearm and forcing him to meet their eyes. “Six hours ago, you might’ve won. But you can’t perform in these conditions. Ignore the needs of your body and someday you’ll doom us both.”
Though Gortash’s gaze remained stubborn and firm, he could no longer avoid Solace’s point and he knew it. He slackened under their frame and Solace eased up, pulling him to his unsteady feet.
“I haven’t locked up the room,” he said.
“I’ll take care of it.” Gortash had extra security measures go up when he slept, but Solace remembered. They’d helped him redesign them, after all. “Rest.”
Scowling, Gortash stalked off to his quarters while Solace started attending to the security wards. They half expected him to find some way to busy himself still, but soon enough they heard his breath shift to the steady pace of sleep. Working their way around the room, Solace briefly wondered about Gortash’s paranoid caution. He had the best defenses money could buy. He was strong. He slept alone. But remembering the deep sleep of humans, Solace could appreciate their ally’s fears. Solace had private quarters at the temple, but there was no such thing as security in a hive of assassins; if they slept as humans did, they’d likely have been killed long ago.
Solace’s mind drifted into fantasy. How pleasant it would be, to slaughter would-be assassins of Gortash in his own office.
Once they finished setting up the wards, Solace curled up on the couch. An extra security measure in return for his trouble. They went into their trance.
***
Gortash awoke. He was comfortable, sprawled on the finest sheets, the least-utilized piece of his luxuries. He was better rested than he’d been in months.
Gods, what was the time? Gortash cursed and slowly rose, mustering the will to move with urgency. His office had an alarm clock of sorts, designed to go off when the sun rose. But despite his windowless sleeping quarters, Gortash felt that the sun must have been up for several hours at least. Damned Bhaalspawn. They must’ve switched it off, in their commitment to sabotaging his daily routine.
Gortash threw on his coat and opened the door, only to find Solace at his desk. He wasn’t quite awake enough to be eloquent with his words.
“The hells?”
“Ah, you’re awake.” Solace put down some papers and looked up at him. “Good. I’m running out of the business of yours that I know how to do.”
“What in Bane’s name”— Gortash snatched up the papers on top of the desk, only to find evidence of his morning duties almost fully complete. Finalizing of supply orders and inventory, condensing of intelligence reports for future appointments, identifying the day’s most urgent tasks, suggesting amendments to his schedule—all in Solace’s handwriting, but it could’ve been Gortash’s mind. He started at them, dumbfounded.
“Why are you so surprised? I’ve seen you do this time and time again. You talked it through with me at least once.” Solace took the papers back and stacked them neatly. “Though now I know you only needed my help because you were mad from lack of sleep. Don’t waste energy torturing yourself. You have more important things to do.”
Gortash ought to end the alliance then and there. Or punish them, at the very least. They had no right to challenge him as they did, much less to take on his work themselves. But his heart wasn’t in it. Though Gortash had lost hours of his day, his mind was clear, his thoughts calm.
Solace crossed a line. But they’d helped him. And seeing Solace’s disheveled hair and the dried blood on their hands, Gortash knew they’d taken their trance here. They’d armed and disarmed the security and done work that wasn’t theirs to do, at the cost of spending the night on his couch. He swallowed his pride and allowed it to be eclipsed by appreciation. They could’ve left him exposed. If they really wanted, they could’ve killed him in his sleep. Instead they took up his duties.
“You did well,” he said. Solace gave a slight smile and shook their head, standing up.
“I should go back to the temple. I have work of my own.” They went for the door. “I expect you to try and get better sleep, going forward. Just don’t get soft.”
Despite himself, Gortash chuckled. “Don’t get lost.” He found himself wanting to say something else, to keep them there. But he couldn’t think of the words.
Solace left. The severed arm was still on the table, vile and elegant in the light of the late morning sun.
*
Guess I should start linking to the rest: part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4
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