You’re acting weird, he wants to know why.

warmth of the morning sun filters through the curtains, casting soft rays over the room. You wake first, feeling the familiar weight of someone beside you. The Bhaalspawn, your Dragonborn husband. His white scales catch the light, shimmering faintly as the sun's rays spill across his form.

It wasn’t long ago that you didn’t even know his name, much less imagine sharing a bed. The marriage—arranged by their gods—was never supposed to be about love. It was a pact, a fragile peace between divine gods. But oh, would you both make the gods regret binding you to each other. Your love, once silent, grew loud. Full of fire and fangs. Poisoned drinks, bloodied daggers, and burning fire. A bloody dance you both knew by heart. Blades to throats as you two danced, spreading Bhaal's influence across the land like a bloody tidal wave.

One day, you were both in your shared castle, and Durge woke up knowing something was wrong. You were silent, where once was spitting fire, and a new scar on his back he found none. During breakfast, he finally spoke to you.

"My dagger, what is wrong? There is no poison in my drink, no razor in my food, no threats, no blood. What has happened?"