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The Bhaalspawn really didn’t know how it had let Enver coax it into the bath with him. Something of a big event, and how he wanted it to be presentable, so people could see it with him.
That wasn’t what Bhaal wanted. It was expected to be more than just a pretty dog on the tyrant’s leash, a weapon held by no mortal hand.
And yet, here it was, seated in the bath, blood pooling from its skin into the water around it, Enver’s hands in its hair.
“Eugh. This may actually be unsalvageable,” the tyrant grumbled, tugging at some new tangle with enough force that it flinched. “You really don’t take care of your hair at all, do you?”
The Bhaalspawn shrugged. Its body was only valuable insofar as it acted as a weapon. Aesthetics were unimportant to such a task, so it simply let those fall by the wayside, focusing instead on what mattered more– Bhaal’s will, and the ecstasy of murder.
“It would be easier if we could just cut this all off.” It heard him reach for one of the knives it kept on it almost always, now left just outside the bath. “Probably more comfortable for you as well, not having to drag this matted braid around with you everywhere you go.”
The thought was… uncomfortable, but the Bhaalspawn couldn’t exactly deny that he was right.
“I was shaped by Bhaal, made precisely for His will in every detail. He would be unhappy if I allowed you to change me.” Even if the change was wholly beneficial. Perhaps especially if the change was wholly beneficial.
“Your ‘Father’ may be possessive," and the Bhaalspawn could hear the derision Enver spoke into the title, “But he is pragmatic as well, and I’m sure he would see the value in you looking presentable enough to infiltrate anywhere with more sophisticated company than the sewage system.”
The Bhaalspawn growled softly at that, knowing the tyrant spoke the truth.
“Fine. Go ahead and do it. But if I’m compelled to tear your throat out afterwards, you had more than enough warning.”
Enver laughed, as if it hadn’t actually meant the threat, and brought the knife up to the back of its neck. “I’m well aware of the risks.”
It winced as Enver began the cutting, but there was none of the expected pain. Only lightness as years of blood-clotted hair fell away.
When it was done, Enver pulled it out of the bath, letting it see itself in the blur of the steam-covered mirror. It reached out to wipe the mirror clean, to see what had been done to it.
The Bhaalspawn gasped, looking at the figure in the mirror who could not possibly be its reflection. It smiled, watching the figure smile back, twisting its neck to get a better view. It was choppy and rough, hair now stopping just below its ears.
“What do you think?” There was a touch of smug satisfaction to Enver’s voice, as if he already knew the answer.
“It’s… I’m…” It stumbled over its words for a moment, still barely believing that it had been allowed to do this, that Bhaal had not stepped in to prevent it from being changed by Bane’s Chosen. “I like it.”
“Good. Because I like it too. You look handsome like this.”
Handsome.
It wasn’t a word the Bhaalspawn had heard used for it before. It was unsettling, or terrifying, or off-putting. Less commonly, it was beautiful. It had never particularly cared about comments on its appearance. What it looked like never mattered, only what it did in Bhaal’s name.
This was different. Something new, and not unpleasantly so.
“I like it. A lot.” It repeated itself, a bit more assuredly. "Thank you."
Even if it was blasphemous to admit, even if it would only make Enver more sure that he always knew best, it was grateful.