Ch. 12, pt. 2: The Betrayer

PT 2: VALEN

 Valen turned his pale face to the perpetually overcast, heavy gray skies of Cania, and for a fleeting moment after stepping outside the hot Hellsbreath tavern, he enjoyed the feeling of snowflakes kissing his skin. Before coming to Prime, he'd only ever seen snow in the iciest layers of Baator and had never actually paused to enjoy any of it. His conditioning during the Blood Wars had simply prevented him from really enjoying anything - he had been solely focused on the task of destroying the enemy, with single-minded intent. The cold and bitter winds had been a nuisance. Now, with no certain enemy to face and Binne at his side, he felt strangely free, standing unfettered and uncaged, despite technically being trapped in the larger sense. Even with the three-legged hellhound sitting, panting, between them, Valen was at ease. He knew there was a demon still screaming to get out, somewhere inside him, but even the demon was sometimes struck into silence when he was in Binne's presence.

 "I miss Neverwinter," Binne lamented beside him, and he turned to see her doing the same thing he was. The demon was quiet, for once. She momentarily closed her eyes and stuck her tongue out until an ice crystal landed on it and stopped to smile at him when she noticed him staring. Her fingers sought out the ear of the hellhound and caressed it, almost nervously.

 "Tell me about it," he suggested as he led them away toward a velox bush he'd spied in the distance, trudging through the snow.

 She trailed after him happily enough as she rambled about her city's streets as she'd once wandered them as a younger and more carefree woman; her favorite pubs, which ones served the best mead and which ones served cheap swill seemed to be the primary focus for her, along with which wizard towers to avoid, which temples would patch you up for free and which ones wouldn't, how it was smart not to piss off someone named Eltoora, how if you wanted something a woman named Ophala was the person to hit up, and which food stands had the best grub with which streets they could be found on.

 Valen was content to listen while she chattered on; he was certain by the time that they had gathered enough berries, he could have navigated the city of Binne's youth himself, even in the dark. Time passed by swiftly enough despite the wintry chill that seeped through their armor, mostly thanks to Binne's trailing narrative.

 They wandered about and found several bushes loaded with berries - they grew to fruition quite rapidly, to Valen's memory, but there were simply some areas in the wastes where they would not grow at all. He lost count of how many they had taken and figured more was better than less and wisely did not point this out to Binne. When they had gathered enough, Valen announced, "We should head back, this is more than enough."

 Binne seemed surprised and looked down between the hellhound, and Valen, with an armload of berries. "Oh! Well, let's go back then. Er, I hope you remember the way, I definitely don't."

 He led the way back to the tavern while she and the hellhound trailed behind, the both of them with armfuls of berries since they had not had the foresight to ask for Deekin's bag of holding. When they reached the stairs down, Binne caught up with him from behind and bumped his shoulder with her own in a friendly, flirty way. "Mind getting the door, milord?" She asked. Both of her arms were full, while only one of Valen's was.

 He opened it for her. "After you, milady."

 Eyes followed them as they entered, and they spied the others spread between two different fire-pits scattered about. All the residents of Cania were still giving them a wide berth, and Arden Swift's unconscious and robbed body was still on the ground, snoring face-down. Deekin was nowhere to be seen, until they entered the bar section that is, and spied the kobold chatting to the big blue dragon in his natural form which took up the entire space behind the bar. The dragon, for his part, seemed fed-up with the kobold but didn't look like he was about to eat the little bard, so Valen chose not to be alarmed.

 The dragon's gaze widened when he saw them. "I said fifty, not a hundred, berks," he rumbled out. "Can't you count? Not that I'm complaining. This will be a nice addition to my horde."

 "We lost count, thought more would be better than less," Binne pointed out, and dumped her load onto the bar-counter. The dragon eyed the berries almost hungrily.

 Valen deposited his load next to Deekin. "Mind keeping the spare?" he asked the little bard quietly, knowing that velox berries could mean the difference between life or death for them should they travel outside of the lost city.

 Deekin nodded and carefully started counting. Valen left him to his work and returned to Binne's side at the counter, where she was trying to discern what the drink menu was. It was written in Abyssal, and he heard her muttering the language under her breath as she stared at a placard on the back wall behind the dragon with a gleam in her eye.

 He looked down at the hellhound that followed Binne everywhere now and found it staring up at him to his startle. The hound whined faintly at him, so he - somewhat unsure of himself, as his instincts still told him to kill it - lowered his hand for the hound to sniff. The hound bumped his fingers with his snout, and Valen finally took the cue and pet him on the head. The short, sooty fur was unexpectedly warm and soft.

 Binne was smiling at him broadly when he looked up, in a way that made it impossible for Valen not to return the gesture. The dragon gave her a complimentary drink made from some of the velox berries she'd brought him, and she took a few more from Deekin's pile that he was counting (to the kobold's consternated glare) and ordered whatever passed for food in this corner of Baator that happened to be warm. A few short minutes later, they were taking piping hot bowls of stew in their arms over to the others by the fire and Binne was attempting to balance her drink against her chest, highly conscious and anxious of dropping it. She attempted to give one of the bowls in her hands to Nathyrra and nearly dropped the beverage, had Valen not caught it.

 "Thank Tymora for your battle-hardened reflexes," she blurted, "there's nothing I hate worse than wasting good alcohol!"

 "Really? Nothing at all?" He raised an eyebrow and handed the drink back, with minor spillage. "After you were painfully geased by a mad arch-wizard, cursed almost to the point of death by a Talontar - then almost crushed by golems - then turned into a giant, pulsating brain - then nearly taken for a ride by a dracolich - and then recently died and have been subsequently trapped in Baator? Wasting alcohol is worse than all of that?" He hadn't wanted to remind her of it, but also felt like she had basically walked into it.

 "Well, it could be worse," she reasoned with an upward glance and a sigh. "I could be here alone! Although saying it like that makes me feel bad for everyone else for being stuck here with us."

 "There's no place we'd rather be," he assured her.

 "Xa," agreed Nathyrra, and Solaufein nodded.

 "Oh, there's a lot of places I'd rather be personally," she babbled. "Like, anywhere. Literally anywhere but Hell."

 "Does that include the Demi-Plane of Ooze?" Valen asked.

 Binne's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "W-what?"

 "There are a lot of planes out there," he added cryptically, "and only most of them are horrible to be trapped in. A small number are hospitable. Why do you think so many powers are interested in taking over Prime? It's not called Prime for nothing. Trust me, there are a lot of worse places to be than here."

 Her expression brightened. "I guess I didn't think of it that way! I'd also rather be freezing my tits off in a blizzard than be a brain again, too. That was just . . . Wrong," she shuddered.

 "I thought you didn't remember that," he said.

 She shrugged. "Bits and pieces. It was a chaotic way to live. You can't move obviously, beyond the odd tentacle I suppose, but you're not exactly mobile. But your mind is . . . I saw and felt so much. It was just bizarre. Like trying to remember what being on morimatra feels like. Most of the night before the battle is a blur for me too, honestly. I know it ended all right, but I'm starting to understand what Tomi was saying. It's easy to lose track of yourself."

 He wasn't surprised by that - she hadn't exactly chosen to hold back on her consumption and had been the first to pass out in a sprawl on the floor next to him and Solaufein. Thankfully, she hadn't snored too loudly then, and he'd been able to actually get some fairly comfortable shut-eye, which was unusual for him. On the eves of battles, he was rarely relaxed enough to sleep. He'd been trained to only need very little sleep at a time, but as he'd said to Solaufein, it was an improvement over his other plans of pacing the battlements until the Valsharess' forces arrived. "It was . . . A good evening," he summarized lamely.

 He endured her stare for a few moments before Solaufein cut in, "You dragged him into the dance," somewhat slyly. "And I got him drunk."

 "Solaufein! Proud of you!" Binne cheered. Part of her smile seemed forced, as if she were attempting to return to her usual demeanor but found it difficult to do so. "Oh, and proud of me!" She added in afterthought. "I guess I put a dunch in your composure after all, General, eh?"

 "Something like that," he rolled his eyes, and blew on the top of his soup in his hands. As he sipped at it, it tasted as bland as he'd been afraid of. Inwardly he cursed Deekin for selling all their spices to Gru'ul. The shade of Lady Aribeth did not partake; she cited she was not hungry, though Valen knew this to be untrue. The lost were afflicted with a state of un-living, when one experienced perpetual need. Perpetual exhaustion. Perpetual hunger. And nothing ever satisfied it but for a moment. They remained, unchanging, un-living, and though he did not pity her, he understood a little of what she was going through. It was not so different from being a battle-slave operating on two hours of sleep every forty-eight hours, after all.

 "I will be meditating by the fire, should anyone have need of me," Aribeth announced, and a little of her imperious courtly manner shined through. She was so clearly a paladin in manner at times that he had to remind myself she had willingly fallen from grace and claimed to honor no divinity. Her presence still prickled at Valen's skin for reasons he couldn't explain, though having been around the deva and Solaufein he had grown fairly used to it. She stalked off aways toward an unoccupied pit and seated herself, and Valen let himself relax a bit now that she was at a distance and the tickling-prickling sensation abated.

 Nathyrra finished her food quickly and stood, announcing she was going to find Rizolvir, and Solaufein stood up after eying the brooding Aribeth for a moment. He gave a significant look to Valen as he left, looking briefly at Binne with a complex expression before stalking off; Deekin was still counting velox at the bar, so Valen and Binne were left by themselves once more, if one did not count Boon who slept at Binne's side.

 "Paladins," Valen found himself scoffing as he watched Solaufein and Aribeth interact at a distance.

 "Like having cold leeches on your skin in . . . Places," Binne shuddered. She scratched at her cuffs and started untying the laces keeping them in place to free her hands better. "Augh! She wasn't even this bad in life! It's like death has made it worse even though she's become an atheist! How does that make sense?" she complained.

 "It was like that for me in the beginning around Solaufein, but it doesn't bother me at all anymore," Valen admitted.

 "Well, you should immunize yourself to her then, and offer her a good romp. That'll take the edge off both of you," Binne suggested casually, with the attitude one might have in a conversation over a cup of morning tea.

 Valen was immediately confused, perturbed, and cursed with an excellent imagination. "What? No, first, she's dead. That shouldn't be physically possible."

 "She's real enough to stick a sword in your gullet but not to fuck?" Binne pointed out incredulously. "How does that make sense?"

 It didn't, especially when she pointed it out in that way, but Valen was actively trying not to think about it and so shook his head. "Secondly, I'd really rather not think about it. I don't think that's how it works. That would probably just make it worse."

 Binne blinked. "Oh no, it works like a charm, I'm certain of it. That's why Solaufein has never bothered me."

 It occurred to Valen that he'd simply never asked, because it seemed like it wasn't any of his business, so he took the opportunity. "Is that why, you and he—?"

 "Make the bonnie bugger?" Binne cut in, her eyebrows waggling and moving her piercings. "Roll in the hay? I assumed everyone knew that, we're not exactly quiet about it."

 "I did, but I also didn't want to presume anything," Valen said. He respected the relationship they shared - it seemed entirely positive, without any of the contentious rancor that sometimes permeated other significant relationships. She and Solaufein seemed to build upon one another and strengthen the other. Valen found he admired that, and even a small part of him envied it.

 "Say, what would you call that in Sigil?" Binne wondered, randomly.

 Valen stared at her, confused at the trail her mind had taken until he remembered what they had just spoken about. "Oh, sex? It's just called sex."

 Binne let out a severely disappointed, "Oh."

 Valen then remembered what she had said and contemplated for a moment the bastardizations of Common that emerged from her mouth on a regular basis. "I have never heard of a 'bonnie bugger' before," he said wryly.

 Binne grinned widely, showcasing her fangs. "I heard my father call it hochmagandy once," she confided like this was some great secret to share. He couldn't even pronounce the word she had uttered, let alone remember it. She went on, "Legitimately, my da said to me one morn while he was taking his morning piss off the porch, with a runnin' cock in hand, and he looks me right in the eyes as I'm trying to enjoy myself some bloody tea, and he says to me lucidly, 'yer mutha an' I 'aven't 'ad a dacent hochmagandy in o'er a moon!'" She laughed uproariously at this memory for a moment. "To this day I've failed to find a way to use it in a conversation. I'm waiting for the exact right moment to try but it never fits in. It always feels forced. Maybe one day," she concluded wistfully.

 Most people had aspirations of grandeur, wealth, and power. Binne's dreams were much simpler and typically pun-focused. Valen could appreciate that. "Is that a real word?" Valen wondered, thoroughly amused.

 "It is to my da! But aye, when Solaufein and I first met at the Yawning Portal, I was trapped in Undermountain for longer than I could count, so one could hardly blame me for gantin' at the first attractive male to cross my path that didn't look or smell like an ogre. Luckily, the ogres thought I smelled and looked just as bad and left me alone, but I was afflicted with soul-crushing boredom in the moments where they had no use for me," she summarized. "It's a physical thing, us havin' not been with others in a might while. Seems . . . Natural, with him. Helps that I'm, well, I'm . . . I am rather very fond of him. He's probably the best friend I've ever had. I . . . suppose I love him, in my way," she finally admitted, her voice growing softer and fainter as she carried on. It was not a comfortable admission for her, as if the discussion of feelings made too many other things swim to the surface of her thoughts. She started poking at the hole in her chest armor morbidly.

 Valen did his best to distract her, since it seemed to be his job now, if he was interpreting the look Solaufein had given him correctly. He back-tracked a bit. ". . . I would never have thought of using sex to immunize myself to a paladin aura. It almost makes sense, now that I'm thinking about it, although I really wish I wasn't."

 Binne smiled again. "Well if she's not your type, we'd best grin and bear it."

 "It's not my place," he began to wonder, "but you—"

 She interrupted him again, this time leaning forward in close and stared up at him through half-lidded eyes. He abruptly noticed how long her eyelashes were by the length of the shadows the left on the tips of her cheekbones. "Don't worry, my sweet," she said, "right now, I only have eyes for you. Unless you, of course, only have eyes for our lovely ex-paladin over there."

 He couldn't help the flush that warmed him from his chest to his ears - Binne knew it, saw it, and grinned. "I wasn't asking about that," he said quickly. "I actually wanted to ask about your parents."

 Her grin dimmed a bit and she leaned back slightly. "That's a hard, blue, cold turn. Why'd we have to go from buggery to parents?"

 "No particular reason, I just . . . Find the idea of your parents curious," he said. There was a part of him that hadn't believed her at all, at first. He'd assumed everything she said was a lie until he learned she was essentially incapable of keeping her mouth shut about anything. It at least made her moods easy to determine - she usually announced them with fanfare to anyone within earshot. Now that he knew her better, he couldn't help but wonder at the childhood that had shaped such a strange individual - and the hands that had raised her.

 "Ask me anything at all!" She offered cheerily. The fact that she was happy at all to discuss the subject of family was simply foreign to him. There had been no such kindly hands to raise him.

 "What are they like?" he wondered softly.

 "Old and grumpy nowadays," she huffed. "I should hope they still are, whenever I next see them. Hopefully, we'll all be still alive . . ." She trailed off for a moment, then seemed to regain her thoughts. "They were spry in my youth; they're reaching the bonnie age of sixty-and-five now, and it's likely only by the grace of my mother's priesthood in Tempus' clergy that they have lived as long, with how reckless my father is. Thankfully, we all survived the Wailing, us all having an inherent distrust in Helmites. My ma's named Sorcha Ofgren. Drak of Black-Raven is my da's. They traveled and adventured a long time, before settling at the farm and deciding they'd had enough of that. We all fought in the wars, the three of us - the shadow incursion, the Luskan incursion . . . Nasty business. After that mess, my parents said they'd had enough of that nonsense and put the weapons away permanently to focus on rebuilding. House was coming along quite nicely at the time I 'left' for Waterdeep."

 "You were raised on a farm?" It certainly explained her odd affinity for the scythe.

 "Aye," she confirmed with a nod. "We had all manner of beasts about - horses, dogs, goats, the odd barn cat, or chicken. Does that surprise you?" She wondered.

 "I've never seen a surface farm, honestly - the drow do farm, but few things grow in abundance down here. Rothe and mushrooms are the only things I've seen them cultivate."

 "Well, we grew all sorts of grub - mostly hardy varieties of root vegetables that could survive the odd weather. Father and I hunted from time to time, but it was never my strength. I just can't hide my fat arse in a bush, you know? I'm not built for hunting." Valen felt this was a massive understatement and couldn't conceal a chuckle at her expense that luckily Binne found too charming to punish in any way. She went on, amused, "Anyway, we kept a few animals, mostly dogs and drafts. A few mousers that lurked about the barn. Tried cattle one year but that never panned out. Had two goats for milk. I can show you my folks' place, er, if or when we ever get out of here," she offered unexpectedly.

 He would have liked that, but doubted they'd actually make it out of Cania. Then again, they had made it thus far and were still mostly intact. "You seem very fond of them," he said instead of what he wanted to say.

 "Of course. We're all very close," she said, like this was normal and shrugged.

 Valen didn't know how to make her understand this strange, fundamental gap that lay between them as a result of their different upbringings. He concluded that he'd have to share something personal, no matter how it irked at him. "I only knew my mother and would not like to have known my father. I'm a little ashamed to admit that I don't remember her name," he could honestly say.

 Binne took this in stride. "Well, you know who my real father is, and it doesn't seem to bother you none. I shouldn't see why knowing your own father should bother you. I suspect you'd have so little in common with him that it'd make no difference."

 ". . . You're comparing yourself to Mephistopheles," he finally realized.

 Binne winced. "A bit internally. Deep down, I know we're nothing alike, except for the way we look, I suppose. I've never met him 'til now. But he held a power over me I hadn't known . . . And I've learned much since I got here. He's the reason I am who I am, why I have my abilities. He probably formed my pact, probably when I was in my mother's womb."

 "Just as my father is the reason for all of my troubles," Valen reminded her. "As you said, it makes no difference, Binne."

 Binne folded her arms around her knees and brought them close to her chest, resting her chin on the top of them. Her tail curled in a likewise guarded manner, around one of her feet. "I'd like to believe you. I'd like to believe I have more in common with Drak than my true father, for he's the one who molded me."

 "Your true father is not Mephistopheles," Valen gently corrected. "He did not raise you."

 There was a warmth to her eyes when she smiled softly at him - it was not as wide or carefree as her other smiles, but it reached her eyes in a new way that Valen could appreciate. "What else did you want to know?" She asked of him.

 "Nothing in particular, I suppose. I am a little curious about them, but I mostly just invented an excuse to get you to talk," he admitted.

 Her smile grew wider. "You sly devil," she chided.

 Valen, somewhat shyly, returned the smile. "A part of me envies you for being able to be a part of a family. That's a strange concept for me to wrap my head around, especially because the only other exposure I've had to a 'family' has been House Mae'vir, and the Eilistraeens, who treat one another as I think a family ought to."

 "'Tis not all it is cracked up to be," she dismissed, then added, "but I rather like them. Also, they've never tried to murder me, not even once! I imagine that's going to be hard for Solaufein and Nathyrra to grasp, but humans generally don't do that unless they're nobility. Or dreadfully angry and reckless. Then again, my da is a former berserker of the Black Raven Uthgardt tribe, and they're rather known for being dreadfully reckless. His people live in the Spine of the World - the tallest mountains up top to be seen!"

 "I've seen pictures of mountains, paintings only," Valen said. "When I was in the Seer's grove, I saw rivers, and lots of forest. Not much else. I did not venture out of her grove before we made the journey to the Underdark."

 Binne's eyes became a little misty as she revisited a memory clear only to her. "That's nothing compared to the feeling of standing beneath one that's taller than the tallest dragon you can ever imagine, with white dustings of snow atop, encircled by clouds. It's like . . . How standing next to a god should be - sheer toe-curling awe at the majesty of nature, is what it is. I saw the Spine once, near Raven Rock. Black Raven people ride into battle on the top of giant ravens." She grinned at his surprised look. "Right? It's unreal. You'll see them one day if I have a say in it," she said quite insistently. "If we make it back to Waterdeep somehow," she qualified.

 "How does a man like that meet a woman like your mother?" Valen had to wonder.

 "Long story short, Da wandered down one year and wound up running with the adventuring troupe that my mother belonged to. They got married at one point, and then spent some time in a planar prison after a portal mishap. Mishaps like that seem to run in the family . . . Anyway, that's where my mother got impregnated with Brega 'n I. She never spoke of it." Binne paused for a moment, perhaps remembering what Arden Swift had said, and bit her lip. After a moment passed, she said, "Da took us in anyway like we were his own, and never made us feel like we were wrong or didn't belong with him. As far as he was concerned, we were his children no matter how we'd been fathered. I'll always love him for that. Ma was a bit harder on us with the discipline, but she was a hard woman, and it wasn't to do with our heritage. She never punished us on account of our horns and tails. Rather that I was prone to mischief and often sought out trouble. Brega was the reasonable twin, a stolid one. A bit like you, in his thoughtfulness. You have a quality my brother eminently lacked, though - in that you have a way of bringing out my better side. Brega and I just got each other into trouble. We tended to bring that out in one another. Every day was an adventure with him, a private contest between the two of us over who could out-silly the other." She sighed deeply into her knees. "I miss him terribly sometimes," she added in a miserable tone as she fiddled the smooth black stone pendant at her neck.

 Valen had lost many people over the years, most of them horribly or painfully, but he had never suffered the loss of someone so vital to his being. He'd had no siblings, growing up largely on the streets with other kids around his age. He'd been the only one of them he knew of to have survived past the age of twenty. "I am sorry for your loss," he told her quietly. "I don't know if I've said that before."

 "I had the privilege of knowing him only for a short time in my life," Binne said wryly. "His loss shaped me into who I am, and I am proud of the person that I am on most days. So, I don't think of him as gone. I smile at his memory more than cry."

 "That's a good way to look at it," he conceded. "I experience losses . . . Differently."

 Binne unfolded her legs and looked at him, a little unsure of herself. Her fingers fiddled anxiously with the bits and straps on her armor. "Might I ask you something?" She queried.

 He felt it was only fair after he'd interrogated her about her parents. "Of course."

 She pursed her lips. "How did you arrive to Cania? How did you and the others die?"

 Valen went quiet. He instinctively looked away from her eyes, sheltering her from what, he couldn't say. He was abruptly assaulted by the memory of his most recent death, and he hadn't - nor would he ever - forget the pain, and despair he suffered through before awakening. He had, however, long grown used to such things and simply added it to his ever-growing list of nightmare-fuel. "Is it important that you know?" He asked, careful not to sound sharp.

 "No," she admitted bashfully, "no, it isn't. But I, I remember how I died - quite vividly," she shuddered. "I'd very well understand if you never cared to revisit it again. I just didn't know if it was impolite to ask, and you don't have to say anything if you don't want to, I'd certainly—"

 As she rambled, he mulled over what to say, and where to begin. He cut her off since she seemed determined to withdraw, and that was not what he wanted. If she wanted to know, he would tell her. "You were warm when we got to you," he told her, and this silenced her. "It was obvious you were dead, but it must have only been moments before. The Valsharess was some distance away, long dead. Solaufein had bled out and Enserric was pierced through your breastbone, with one of your hands still clenched around the hilt of it. That's how we found you."

 Her eyes continued to bore into him, and he found himself still unable to meet them. He remembered the sight of her lifeless body, too many times - a surely strange image in light of what a person she normally was, so full of life and laughter. "You found us?" She sounded horrified.

 Valen went on with his retelling, casual in tone but brooding in thought. "I think the doors gave in once you both were dead. They just opened, like they were welcoming us. We knew it was a trap, and we had to spring it. There was nothing else we could do. Imloth was the first to charge, and die in a storm of spell fire . . . Then, it was Deekin. A cut to the throat, and he was suddenly gone. Devils were everywhere, too many to count. I lost myself, in the haze of the battle. The arch-devil himself could have been there and I wouldn't have noticed; my memory of the battle is unclear after that. Before I knew it, everyone was dead, and Mephistopheles was there. I think I was the last one left alive. The arch-devil was laughing at me, or his victory, as he disappeared. I tried to stand, but I was weak. I bled from a thousand wounds that I didn't remember receiving. I saw you, and I saw Solaufein, and couldn't quite put together what had happened. It . . . didn't make sense. It then made a terrible sense when I woke up in the Reaper's realm and Solaufein explained to me what really happened . . . And the last thing I remembered before I died was you. I pulled Enserric out of your chest . . . Enserric's soul or voice seemed to be gone from it, since he was dull and black. I remember I pulled it and it fell from my hand. I got very tired after that, and you were the last thing I remembered seeing before hearing Solaufein call me across that void between life and death. Next, I was in the nexus with Cavallas' winged counterpart staring at me inches away from my face and welcoming me back from the land of the dead with the most rancid breath I've ever smelled outside of the Hive."

 Binne was quiet for a while. The General looked up and met her gaze finally, almost flinching at the tears he saw at the corners of them that threatened to spill down her cheeks. "Thank you, Valen," she choked out with a painful smile.

 "I didn't do anything you need to thank me for," he said, a little confused.

 She shook her head. "Thank you for being who you are, and for . . . for treating me with dignity and respect even after death. I don't deserve it."

 He didn't know how to reassure her, so he tried to simply tell her, "You know that's not true."

 She trembled as she uttered, "I killed my best friend. Someone who's done nothing but understand me, joke with me, and love me unconditionally. That's what happened. Mephistopheles commanded me to do it, and I did it. He took away my agency. I took Enserric from Solaufein and killed him. I betrayed him. And now I'm here in betrayer Hell. I can't help but think that I'm exactly where I belong. Maybe the blame is with my father, but it was my hands on Enserric's hilt and I'll always remember that in my nightmares. If I even have nightmares. I haven't really slept much since then."

 Binne's shoulders were weighed down by a familiar burden, to Valen. He spoke his next words carefully. "Binne . . . May I tell you something?"

 She sniffled. "Anything."

 He gathered himself. He had never spoken of this to anyone, save the Seer. "I fell in love once," he revealed, "at least, that I can remember. She was one of Grimash't many slaves, as was I. She cooked, cleaned, mended, and cared for everyone that crossed her way. A human girl. I don't remember her name, or her face," he confessed, feeling somewhat ashamed. "Grimash't burnt the memory out of me with hot irons when he discovered our relationship. Love, back then, was a mistake that your masters would punish you for if you should be caught in the act of it. I was arrogant and stupid, overconfident that my use was too great for anyone to risk crossing me." Her hand had found its way to his arm in a comforting gesture, but he took it in his own, preferring that quiet warmth. Her fingers clenched lightly around his.

 "Grimash't sent me to kill the Seer, around four years ago," he finally told her. "When I failed to kill her - when I refused to - Grimash't took me and chained me up so I could watch him torture that girl to death. Then, he turned his attention to me. All I remember clearly is that I must have loved her, because it hurt worse than anything I thought I'd ever known. I'd never lost anyone that I truly cared about until then; I'd lost my mother when I was very young, too young to really know her or feel her loss impact me." He went on quietly, keeping himself as composed as he could. It was less painful to revisit than he thought - even comforting in a way to reveal this to Binne. She did not judge, did not interrupt, only accepted. "I lived on the streets of the Hive with every other orphan just like me and struggled to survive until I was inevitably drafted into the Blood Wars. I'd seen people I'd grown up with die all my life. But that girl, she . . ." Her hand squeezed his as he trailed off, and he felt himself heavy with emotion. Valen's eyes stung with unshed tears. He could only stare at the floor. "And I remember little things, like how she gently tended my wounds . . . the way her smile made me feel. The scent of her skin on mine, the gold of her hair, the mint-green of the ribbons she used to tie in it. It doesn't really hurt me anymore, her absence. My memory of her is too incomplete for that, I think . . . but I must go on living with the knowledge that I am the reason she is dead. I may as well have killed her myself. If I had, it would have been a quicker death. If I'd killed her, it would have been a mercy. And I think about it still sometimes - that if I had the strength to kill her the moment that I fell in love with her, then she never would have suffered. And it would've been kinder, than letting my love for her grow to one day snuff her life out."

 Valen had walked into the Seer's camp with this loss and had shouldered it ever since. It felt like a relief to finally let this burden down, with someone who assuredly understood how it felt to feel guilty for the death of another dear to them. For her part, Binne had grown wide-eyed and shed a few tears, and was squeezing his hand tightly. "Valen, then she never would have gotten the chance to love you," she pointed out gently. "And what a great loss that would have been."

 He did his best to remain gruff and nonchalant about the vulnerability he'd displayed. Valen wiped at his eyes with his free hand and sighed. "My story is no different than any others in my position. There are thousands of Grimash't's, thousands of mint-ribbon girls and thousands of Valens with the same story. The only difference between me and any other of his tiefling slaves was that I eventually escaped and found my way to my purpose. I escaped the cycle that thousands of others are still trapped in."

 Binne withdrew her hand to put both of hers on her hips and scaled him with a determined glare. "That's just untrue," she insisted indignantly. "You're all sortsa different from those others out there!"

 He was only mostly confused. "Excuse me?"

 "For one, you're far better looking than all those other Valens!" She defended passionately.

 He couldn't suppress the blush that crept up his neck, but managed to say, "That's not really my point," without stuttering.

 "It is to me! You're a man with a handsome set of horns and you should own that," she said, tapping him on the chest. "And you can hardly blame yourself for something you didn't do, Valen. I don't think she would be happy that you guilt yourself if she could see you."

 "I don't think so either, which is my overall point," Valen agreed. "She was always kind to me. But then she died . . . Horribly. And I share a part in that. So far, my life has taught me that our lives aren't about what's deserved and what isn't. It's about what we give to one another." Binne had been stunned into silence at this point, so he forged on ahead, gaining courage: "She gave me kindness in my darkest place, and time may take away my clear memory of her, but not my solace in that. Solaufein has already given you his forgiveness, Binne. He couldn't hold any grudge against you even if he wanted to - it's not in his nature any more than it is in yours. If your positions were reversed, you would not hesitate to offer your forgiveness. You are no more responsible for what happened than I am for that girl's death."

 She seemed defeated, in that moment. ". . . Someone ought to blame me; why not me? Why can't I blame myself?" She mused absently.

 Valen sighed. The distance that had grown between Solaufein and Binne was mainly imposed on Binne's part - he knew very well how Solaufein felt. If the awkward poetic confession that Solaufein had rambled to Gru'ul earlier wasn't proof enough, it was written all over the drow's features whenever he glanced her way. "Because he obviously loves you, wouldn't want you to blame yourself for something you had no control over," he concluded. "I know why you feel this way. Believe me, I do. I feel it too. You blame yourself, and you shouldn't. That's why I'm telling you all of this. I know that girl loved me, and that's why I don't guilt myself anymore for what happened. I placed the blame rightfully on Grimash't, and I extracted my vengeance from him a thousandfold, just as we will to Mephistopheles. I know you will make him regret ever crossing you."

 Binne seemed dubious. "Pfft." She made a noise with her mouth and stuck out her tongue at him in a childish gesture. "That's if there's a way to stop him."

 Valen frowned. "I'm having a hard time trying to cheer you up, milady."

 Addressing her with respect seemed to be the key to her mood because she smiled brightly. "I appreciate the effort, milord. I'm just in a sour mood. Thank you for telling me about your lovely girl, though. Sharing personal details is a long ways from suspicious glares across a room," she added, nudging him in the shoulder with her own.

 At one point, he'd had trouble looking past her skin, horns, and tail. He'd seen and smelled 'devil' and went into high alert. Even having his suspicions somewhat confirmed on the devil-minion front couldn't make him hate this woman, however. She was too much herself; too rare a person to simply let sulk and sink into a depression when he stood to do something about it. Plus, Solaufein seemed to have informally granted him the task without so many words as an unspoken expectation. He'd rather pointedly left them alone together to speak to Aribeth. Still, "I think we've evolved far from suspicious glares. I didn't trust you back then because I didn't know you," Valen defended.

 She smiled a little slyly. "You think you know me?"

 "I think . . . I could spend the rest of my life trying to know you, and you would still consistently surprise me," he said very cautiously.

 Binne seemed genuinely surprised. "Is that an offer?"

 He smiled at her reaction. "It's a compliment. And a maybe." He looked down at the bowls of now-cold soup they'd placed on the ground during their conversation, and his nose wrinkled up in disgust. "Our food is cold now. Ugh. What can you expect from Cania?"

 Binne smiled and drank her bowl anyway, her tail swaying behind her in the warm air. "Hey. It's Hell!"

 They finished their unpleasant meals in silence, with no complaint. Valen then recalled what Binne had said earlier, about nightmares and sleep. "You said you haven't slept much," he said suddenly, gaining her attention.

 She turned to look at him. "Eh, sleep is for the dead," she said flippantly.

 He knew how much she valued her little naps, the only bits of peace she could find while they were traveling, her quiet moments amidst the chaos of their lives, and felt inordinately angry that Mephistopheles had robbed her of this simple pleasure. "You should rest anyway," he insisted.

 "Rather not deal with the creepy, arcane nightmares, thanks," she dismissed.

 "I'm not even going to ask," he rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling. "You should have told the Seer about the first one."

 "Don't remind me," she complained. "Besides, is it so bizarre that I would distrust a woman touting herself as a 'seer?' Though I do worry about her now that we're here and she's down in the Underdark with just the idiots for company. By which I mainly mean Tomi and Featherbutt. Sharwyn can probably hold the lot of them together herself, now that I think about it."

 Valen had distrusted the Seer for the same exact reason when they'd initially met, albeit reinforced by the fact that the meeting was at flail-point, but it was also due to this meeting that he was less worried about the Seer than he perhaps could have been. He knew she could take care of herself - she had successfully fended him off, after all, and defended her men from his demonic allies. "The Seer will keep them safe, and get them back to the surface," Valen said confidently. No, he wasn't too worried about the Seer - besides, he could help her far more from Hell at his allies' sides than he could at the woman's side. It was Binne he was more worried about - she was more concerned with others than herself, despite her condition.

 Though the cambion was cognizant, there were circles under her eyes, and wounds in them that Valen recognized in himself. He stood up. "Come with me," he said, and offered his hand to her. She put her bowl on the ground and took his hand after eying it for a moment and gave it a squeeze after she stood. The hellhound remained behind, snoozing.

 He led her back to the dragon's bar and took a few velox from Deekin's counting pile despite the kobold's squawking objection. He put the berries on the black bar-top and cleared his throat to get the Innkeep's attention. He was back in his smaller, humanoid form, though this was still unfortunate because he was still wearing nothing but an apron and was presently bent over with his backside in the air as he got a few towels out of a cupboard.

 "Hang on! Be with you in a moment!" the dragon called out. Valen pointedly looked away, while Binne just laughed. When the dragon pulled his head back up, his serpentine eyes narrowed. "Oh, it's you two," he drawled. "What is it now?"

 "A room," Valen cut out. He glanced over at Solaufein, who was still engaging Aribeth in conversation some distance away. He was certain the drow had heard him, judging from the brief and intense look Solaufein shot his way. The drow's approval was silent, but discernible.

 The dragon's eyes narrowed on him. "How do you feel about flesh-eating bedbugs? Or is that not your thing?"

 Binne guffawed. "Wha—?"

 The blue-haired humanoid dragon cackled. "Kidding. You're not bad, for a total berk. Room's on the house, you're paid up. That's more than the big M ever did for me, honestly, and you're not that bad for business if you managed to knock Swift out for an evening. Was getting sick of him mouthing off to the pilgrims, hoped that Sensei would knock sense into him when she kicked him in the head, but apparently not. Not bad at all, warmlings. It's down the big hall, third door on the left."

 "We'll take that as a compliment," said Binne.

 Valen led the way to what looked like the biggest hall, although his Abyssal was a bit rusty compared to Binne's. She hadn't been counting the number of doors and opened the first one that caught her fancy - only to be greeted by the sight of two succubi going at it in a frenzy, tearing the room around them to shreds in the process. She stared for a long moment before closing the door, unnoticed by its occupants, and then blinked. And blinked again. She looked over to Valen and said quietly, "It's . . . probably not that one. I think."

 "You think?" He asked, dripping with sarcasm.

 She paused a moment, then nodded firmly and insistently, "Yes."

 He rolled his eyes at her again and opened the proper, unoccupied door. It was spartan, a wide mirror on one side but no decoration, with stone walls and two enchanted torches to ever-burn, giving it quite dim lighting. The bed was surprisingly sturdy and made of wood and creaked only a little when Valen moved across the room and sat down on it and began to remove his armor.

 Binne giggled, sounding somewhat nervous. "This is all moving much more quickly than I anticipated, not that I'm objecting," she babbled.

 Valen stared at her for a moment as he was in the middle of removing his pauldrons and felt amused. "Is sex really all you ever think about?" He had to wonder.

 "Oh, it's at least half of what I think about, for sure," she happily agreed. "Most of my thoughts revolve around food or fornication, if we're being completely honest here."

 "You need sleep," he told her, and her eyes widened in understanding. And then narrowed in disappointment. "Don't give me that look. You said yourself, you've hardly slept since you got here. We have the time now, and we might not in the future. So, take off your armor, and come lay down next to me."

 She sighed. "Oh, very well, you stubborn arse. But I get to be little spoon!"

 A few moments later, their armor was in various scattered states around the room - or rather Binne's was, while Valen kept his carefully separated in a neat pile. He placed his flail carefully within arm's reach of the bed and patted the space next to him with a hand as Binne stood and experimentally poked at the hole in her shirt in the front with a consternated expression. "Just take it off, you can sew it back together later or get a new one," Valen tiredly suggested, and laid back on the boxy bed with a thud, throwing the bed sheet and cover back.

 Binne stared blatantly at his nudity for a few moments, unashamed. A swish of fabric later and Binne had curled up next to him under the covers, nude. While there was a part of Valen that could not deny the pleasure at seeing her in the state, a deeply exhausted part of him really just wanted to enjoy the fact that he had a warm bed to sleep in for a little while, with a warm body in it to curl up to.

 Her fingers splayed across his chest and tumbled tentatively across his many scars, almost tickling him. He grasped her hand, gently, and told her, "turn around."

 She grinned and did so. "Little spoon?" She queried excitedly.

 Valen wrapped an arm around her middle and drew her against him, answering her question. She wiggled for a moment as he tightened his grip, silently urging her to stop and relax. Initially it was difficult to find a place to put his face without an eye full of horn, but he found a solution and nestled into the base of her neck, curled protectively around her. He'd been this close to her before, technically - while they were resting in a pile after the big celebration - but he hadn't had the time to appreciate it. He'd noticed her before, of course - she made herself known immediately wherever she went, whether she wanted to or not - and he could at least aesthetically appreciate her curves and features. It wasn't really until that panicked moment before the fight with Vix'thra that he noticed his heart palpitating in her presence - he thought at first that it was anger, or his instinct warring at him, after seeing her summon so many demons to their side. He knew better now.

 He'd felt scared, for her. The mad plan to ground the dracolich had been hers, and she'd very nearly died - again. Instead, Nathyrra had died. A part of Valen felt terribly guilty for feeling glad that Binne was spared and Nathyrra was not - after all, his drow friend had seemed unaffected by resurrection. Valen knew what it meant, in the larger sense. He had grown attached to Binne. He had developed feelings for her.

 "Valen, I meant to ask you something before I died, but I never got the chance," Binne spoke suddenly, pulling Valen from his thoughts.

 "Hmm?" He hummed.

 "Did you have sex with a marilith?" She asked pointedly, and not without amusement.

 Valen flushed to his ears and was glad Binne couldn't see it and tease him about it. He decided she'd earned the story, at least - and he had intended to tell it to her earlier before she was unexpectedly teleported away with Solaufein. "When I left Grimash't," he began, "I had to escape the Abyss. I knew only a being of equal power or greater would have access to a portal that could take me to a different plane, so I sought out a marilith I knew of and had encountered before, whom I knew to be - if not reasonable, approachable."

 "What does it mean if a marilith is 'approachable,'?" Binne chuckled.

 "It means she wasn't likely to kill me on sight. I offered her my services as a warrior in exchange for access to a portal . . . She had other ideas. Long story short, I'm here." At the end of his tale, he cleared his throat pointedly.

 He couldn't see it, but he could hear the frown in Binne's voice. "That's far more innocent a story than I was hoping it would be, and at the same time much worse," she assessed.

 "Why?" He asked.

 Her tail squirmed against him, causing him to unintentionally tense. She didn't seem to notice, though the tail had a mind of its own and wrapped itself comfortably around Valen's leg. She went on, "Well, on the surface I think it's more often the other way around - men taking advantage of women, especially when they're in positions of power. But really, sex of any kind has always been a bargaining tool, as I understand it. I just prefer my buggery a bit more honest and not so transactional. I take it you parted on well terms with her?"

 "I haven't seen her since, but yes," he said into her neck softly, which made her shiver. "Though she did leave a few scars - but those, I don't mind. At least I remembered getting them, which is more than I can say for most of my others. Try and get some sleep," he suggested, and hushed her when she opened her mouth to object or probably try flirting with him again.

 It wasn't so much that he was opposed to the idea as he felt they needed the sleep more - especially if they were unlikely to get it in the future, out in the cold where they'd have to keep moving for safety. He'd spent time on the fringes of Cania, where the Blood Wars were fought, and knew its climate well enough to hate it. Cania was a miserable plane, even by the standards of Baator.

 Binne's tail poked through his legs at some point to wrap around his own, and though it startled him, he was used to her tail having a mind of its own. He'd never been with another fiendling like her - not a tailed one, anyway - and it was a surprisingly intimate moment as they twined together. She hummed contentedly into the pillows, and he nestled comfortably into the nape of her neck. The kind of peace he felt on some level he didn't deserve washed over him, and he accepted it, begrudgingly. He marveled at how quiet the demon in him had become, and basked in the warmth while he still could, knowing they'd soon be likely freezing to death.

 He didn't dream, thankfully, but he was cursed to be a light sleeper and so awoke after what only felt like a few moments later when Binne began to tremble and shake against him. Her muscles fitfully tensed and relaxed, and the arm she had kept in a grip around his grasped out at air, at nothing. It was difficult to see in the light, but Valen had sensitive eyes, and he could read her expression as troubled when he sat up to look at her. He shook her gently at first, then more firmly to wake her.

 Her amber eyes fluttered open and fixed on his, dilating to swallow the dim light. They glowed for a faint moment, and then returned to normal as her breathing evened. "Nightmare?" He guessed and wondered how often she had them.

 "Thankfully, I don't remember much of it," she grumbled, and rolled onto her back to turn her head, to better face him. "None of my dreams seem to be pleasant," she lamented.

 "Mine either," Valen admitted.

 "Blood Wars?" She guessed, accurately.

 "The plague?" He guessed, also accurately, having overheard Sharwyn also speak of the matter.

 "We're cursed with vivid imaginations," Binne sighed, and curled up against him, wrapping her arm around his bare chest. Her tail tugged against his, bringing him closer to her. It was more than a little distracting. Just as he was deciding whether or not to do something about it, Binne asked, "May I touch you?"

 "You already are," he pointed out, tapping her arm across his chest with amusement.

 "No, I mean," Binne made a frustrated sound and sat up abruptly, inching closer to his head. Her hands tentatively reached up and touched his hair, most of which had fallen loose from the ponytail, and she tucked a bit of crimson locks behind one of his ears. Valen's eyes closed instinctively as her hands explored his eyebrows, eyelashes, horns, and cheekbones, trailing down to his mouth, but not touching it. Her hand brushed the side of his neck when she asked quietly, "May I kiss you?"

 It was curious to Valen that between the two of them, Solaufein - the dark, quiet, and polite one - had simply seized his moment, while Binne - the bright, outspoken, bold one - sought consent. His hand reached up of its own volition to caress Binne's cheek and wrap around her neck to bring her russet red mouth down to meet his. She parted her lips with a satisfied sigh and Valen's tongue caressed hers, sending tingling sensations all the way down to his fingertips and toes. He knew he must love her, then, because he'd only known this sensation once before. An involuntary moan escaped his throat as her legs and tail became entwined with his, and pulled her against him, sliding his hands along her back. She ground her hips against him, reaching down to caress any inch of skin she could get her hands on, and her claws raked gently across his back.

 The demon in him reared its head and howled, not for devil's blood this time, but all for her. The human and demon parts of him were in perfect synchronicity about their desires, for a delightful change of pace. Valen pulled away but for a moment - first to look at Binne, eyes aglow and wanting, second to flip her onto her back with a careful and quick twist. She landed with a satisfied grin that morphed into pleased surprise as his tail wound around her leg to tease at her entrance. "Figures you'd be wicked with that," she mumbled in-between moans. His tail, already hooked around her knee, brought her leg around him, bringing Valen closer to her as he leaned in and sealed his mouth around hers once more.

 She squirmed eagerly as his hardness pressed into her pelvic bone, but Valen was a patient man. He hadn't always been and had to valiantly repress the urge to simply bite Binne and ravish her senseless - for one, he knew Solaufein might have words with him should he return Binne harmed, and for two, he was hardly a fumbling novice when it came to the bedchamber. When she whined, "Please, oh Valen, please," he leaned up and pressed his lips against her neck beneath her ear and hushed her, whispering, "Wait."

 Valen laved attention onto her neck and shoulder as his tail unwound from her leg, and wove its way around, stopping only just barely from entering her sex. By torturous increments, he slid the tip of his pointed tail into her already-wet slit, drawing a breathless cry from her lips. His hips pulled back when her legs pulled down, and she let out a frustrated sound. "You're evil," she accused.

 "Well, I am a tiefling," he said into her skin, and lowered his face to her breasts. He teased her with a few more inches of his tail as he sucked on a nipple, pushing in just a little deeper when Binne's hips bucked instinctively. Her tail thrashed against the bed and wrapped around his leg, pulling him closer to her and even deeper until just the right angle was struck, and she gasped.

 "How did—you found it," Binne blurted, "I don't know how you found it but—ah!" Her thought was left unfinished as he twisted in a little deeper at the angle she'd indicated, and her gasps became even higher-pitched.

 "Right there?" He murmured against her breast and switched his attention to the other one.

 "Don't stop," she plead. The rest of her words became husky whispers and oaths as he twisted his tail further into her. Her hands clenched on his back, scratching him with her claws as she spasmed all around him. Both Valen and his demon internally roared in satisfaction when she came - more on instinct than on purpose. He pulled his tail out of her and threw her legs around his shoulders as she shook from pleasure, and he dove his tongue straight into her core to taste her.

 In an unexpectedly fluid maneuver, Binne suddenly pushed up with all her weight and twisted him to the side, so that he rolled onto his back and she straddled his face, using the headboard behind him for support. She bit her lip and moaned, shuddering against his mouth as his tongue caressed her most sensitive parts, and told him, "I'm in charge now." He kept his arms locked around her hips for a moment, enjoying her deliciously fragrant heat and the sounds she made as he made love to her with his lips.

 After a time, impatience seemed to get the best of her and she pushed herself off of him and lowered herself onto his hardness. He angled himself inside of her as she rocked her hips down onto him, mounting him, and suddenly there was completion. While he'd certainly had sex before, Valen couldn't remember ever feeling so whole, so complete in the moment. When first meeting Binne, he couldn't have predicted that they'd end up here, but he certainly didn't mind the outcome if it meant they would be able to do this whenever they wanted. The sensation overwhelmed him as he locked his hands and tail around Binne, preventing her from moving momentarily as he got used to the feeling of her all around him.

 "You're bigger than I thought," Binne commented with a sly smile. Valen was only half cognizant, and all he could do was grunt in pleasure in response. He hadn't regained the ability to speak. "I have a clever idea for that tail of yours," she went on, but Valen was following her thought process and had already wrapped his tail around her. The tip of it, still wet from being inside her, slowly prodded at her back entrance until she nodded and sighed in permission.

 She gasped as it entered her, rocking her hips forward and sent spikes of pleasure through Valen's entire body. He loosened his grip on her hips, and she started to gently ride him as she adjusted to the feeling. Her tail wrapped around him gradually as she did so, and he angled his hips up for a moment, allowing it to wrap behind him. "May I?" She asked with a sly grin, ever so politely. All Valen could do was desperately nod - he needed her, to be inside her, for her to be inside him - both the demon and Valen needed it all with a desperate hunger. Gently, mostly due to the lack of lubricant, she pushed her way into him - first the tip, then deeper when he nodded and gave her a throaty 'yes,' and he threw his head back and groaned in pleasure as her tail found its way to the most sensitive spot inside him.

 Enveloped by and into each other, there was no awareness of the outside world or the passage of time. Cania, his most recent death, and all his worries fell away until the only thing that was left was the moment Valen was in. Her warmth, her scent, her skin on his - this was all that needed to matter. Binne began to rock against him faster and faster, her breath emerging in light gasps that he synchronized with his own. They moved and trembled together as one, but he let her set the pace as they climbed that peak together. She crested over the edge of pleasure just before him - and as Binne faltered and spasmed in the throes of her climax, he took advantage of her disarray and flipped her over onto her back, ramming into her deeper as he sought out his own edge. Her walls clenched and tightened all around him, and in moments he was raking his teeth across her neck, tasting the salt on her skin, and inhaling her scent as he finished inside of her.

 As Valen slackened, her arms closed around him and her hands gently ran across the scarred ridges along his back. He remained buried inside her, finding solace in the intimacy he'd so long denied himself. They lay entwined for some time, simply caressing and enjoying one another. Binne then began to kiss her way up his neck and jaw toward his lips, grazing her canines ever so gently and drawing shivers from him. She explored his mouth with her tongue, tasting herself on his lips and let out a low moan.

 He was hard again in what felt like only moments, drawing up her legs into his arms so that he could angle himself at just the right point in. He was rewarded by her loud cry - he dove deeper into her with his tail and couldn't repress a moan when he felt his own tail moving inside of her. She writhed against him, clenching her legs around his hips, and teased at him with her tail as it corded around him. He set the pace this time and could feel the demon in him taking the reins. He looked down and saw her amber eyes glowing, and knew his were getting dangerously close to flashing red. He hesitated, slowing down - to Binne's frustration, as she reached up and grasped at him with her claws.

 "Faster," she demanded, and he wasn't about to refuse her. "More," she moaned.

 Valen flipped her over, an easy effort with the assistance of his tail still thrust inside of her and guided her up toward the top of the bed so she could get a grip on the headboard. He drove into her again from behind, reaching up and around her with his arms to grasp her breasts both for stimulation and for grip. He was so lost in the frenzy of the moment that he didn't hear the door open and wasn't aware of Deekin's presence until the kobold was squealing in objection.

 "Ah!" Binne cried out in surprise and craned her head around to look at the doorway. "Get outta here, chicken legs! Can't you see we're busy?!"

 "Deekin just came to wakes goat-people up because it be times to go to Gith Temple! He not want to see goat-people without pants! Augh!" Deekin cried and ran out of the room on his little legs, shoving the door closed behind him.

 Valen had paused, confused, but was still very aroused. "Um," was all he had the wherewithal to say. "Should I . . . ?"

 "Don't you dare stop, General Shadowbreath," Binne threatened in a low, sultry voice. "They can all damn well wait a few bloody minutes while you finally have your way with me."

 He wasn't about to question her when she was using that tone. They continued, after laughing at both themselves and Deekin's expense, and tried out quite a few different positions along the way. Valen wasn't exactly sure how Deekin was measuring the passage of time but knew they hadn't gotten as much sleep as he'd planned on - but he didn't feel particularly tired, even after their exertions.

 They lay together entwined for a time, happily satisfied. However when they were finished, Binne professed a lamentation that there weren't any baths within spitting distance - Valen figured the dragon had to have at least some method of melting snow for water and threw his shirt at Binne's head for her to throw on when she complained about her own still having a hole in it as they tried to get dressed. He threw on his pants, poked his head out the door, and upon seeing no one he recognized he quickly walked down the corridor and had a look at the signs in Abyssal. It took him a few seconds, but sure enough there was one labeled 'baths' pointing in the opposite direction of his arrival. He went to fetch Binne and led the way down a dimly lit velox-torch corridor, away from the Inn's rooms, until they hit a steamy section with the right label on the door.

 It was a darkly lit, uncomfortably warm conjoined public bath, not desirable but better than nothing, and thankfully sparsely populated with but a few githzerai and succubi performing their ablutions about. Everyone gave Binne quite a wide berth when they entered the water, perhaps remembering Arden's remarks in the bar fight, but that was to their advantage. It gave them more space to clean each other - more room for those small, intimate touches of hers that he was becoming so fond of - a hand down the shoulder, tucking hair behind his ear, tracing a scar down his back. She was quite forward with her affection now that they had passed that barrier of sorts, and Valen found himself subconsciously returning those small affectionate gestures without even thinking of it, as if they had always been easy for him to do - even though he couldn't recall a time when they had been.

 Once clean, they donned their armor, taking their time, and finally couldn't come up with any more excuses to put off the inevitable. "I guess we should find the others," Binne said, still poking at the hole in her chest plate with a finger.

 He frowned at her, and grabbed the fidgeting hand in his own, weaving his fingers in through hers. It felt so natural, he couldn't believe it. "Rizolvir can fix it," he offered.

 Binne blinked. "But he—we're in Cania, Valen," she said tiredly.

 "He died in the assault," Valen explained patiently, "and wound up here, working for that dragon. He has a forge and is more successful than ever, according to him."

 " . . . Wh-what? Here? What?"

 "That was also my reaction, when Nathyrra told me."

 Nathyrra, Solaufein, and Deekin were in the main hall eating and offered a bowl of whatever excuse the dragon had around that he dared to call food to Binne and Valen when they approached. No one said anything although Deekin refused to make eye contact. The first order of business for the day was to see Rizolvir for Aribeth's armor.

 As it turned out, Rizolvir had an upgraded forge thanks to the dragon and the super-heated velox that he hoarded as part of his personal treasure. Rizolvir was on good terms with the blue beast, for whatever reason, and agreed to fix Binne and Solaufein's armor in a matter of twelve hours - it would take him about six hours on each piece. Aribeth had a much more reasonable set of armor that - for whatever reason that was beyond Valen's fathoming - functionally replaced the 'ghostly' armor she had on before. Valen wasn't sure exactly how it worked, but Aribeth seemed more comfortable in her new less-spiky enchanted set that gave her a speed boost on par with Solaufein's and Nathyrra's. Additionally, the breast-plate actually covered its namesake, which she was happy enough about, for a lost and dead woman. Binne and Solaufein left their armor with the smith for the time being and traded with the dragon and Solaufein's pocket d'jinn for warmer clothes and replacement armor.

 Valen felt much better about their chances in the Wastes with a furred cloak and boots on. Though there were challenges due to size differences, they were able to make do and - at least the living members of their party (Aribeth excluded herself politely) - were much warmer than they had been before.

 They had gathered around one of the unoccupied velox-fire pits after their successful endeavor, to discuss their plans for the time being. The hellhound had found his way to Binne's side again and was busily sniffing at Valen's hand. He gave Boon a few pats on the head, which made his stubby tail wag appreciatively. Solaufein, their unofficial but undisputed leader, was talking to Deekin quietly some distance away while Nathyrra approached Binne with a steaming mug of tea in her hands. "Here, for you," Nathyrra indicated.

 Binne was delighted. "Ooh! What is it?" she asked, sniffing at it. Then her eyes widened in understanding, though Valen was baffled. She made a noise of understanding and thanks and sipped at it.

 "Nararoot, they call it on the surface, I believe," Nathyrra supplied. "I bargained for it with the d'jinn. It is female contraception."

 Valen couldn't repress the flush that warmed his features, because he hadn't considered such a thing in the heat of the moment and had finished multiple times inside Binne that evening. He was glad Nathyrra was with them - to think of such matters. The very last thing they needed was to worry about a potential pregnancy while running around the iciest Hell of Baator.

 "Valen," Solaufein's voice cut in from behind him, and Valen turned abruptly to face the neutral, perfect face of their drow leader. Solaufein jerked his head to the side, indicating that Valen should follow him, and the General did so without question. Once they were some distance away from the others, Valen looked at Solaufein curiously. "I would like to say something," Solaufein began slowly, "and I shall say it to you only once."

 "What is it?" the tiefling wondered.

 "I enjoy you," Solaufein began, generously. "You are attractive, an excellent friend, and an able warrior. We are abbin who have surpassed even death together. I want you to know this, because I will not hesitate to cut off your tail and feed it to Deekin if I find out you have hurt Binne in some way."

 Part of Valen wanted to add on, 'only consensually' to the end of Solaufein's statement, as he recalled all the times he'd bruised or otherwise beaten Binne during training, but he felt that might be lost in translation to the drow. Instead he said, "On the avariel isle, you threatened to defile a man's corpse if he didn't remove his curse from her, so your protectiveness of her isn't unexpected. Also, I don't think I could hurt her if I tried - not that I want to. I mean in the sense that she's much more capable than she lets on."

 Solaufein nodded, and perhaps remembering the avariel isle with no fondness whatsoever, scowled lightly. "I know you do not wish to hurt her, which is part of why I enjoy you," he said, his scowl softening. "That is all I wanted to say to you, I am finished."

 Valen nodded. "I appreciate it, Solaufein," he said honestly. He'd expected Solaufein to say something to him after last night but hadn't thought it entirely through. Part of him had anticipated being scolded, but Solaufein was hardly the type - he was accepting and kind, in the Eilistraeen way. "I . . . Have never met anyone like her. Or you," he added with a smile.

 Solaufein scoffed. "She is the strange one."

 Valen felt a smirk creep across his features. "You're the drow paladin," he pointed out.

 The drow sighed. "Why do you two keep repeating that? I am not a paladin. They belong to Torm, or Tyr. Even Aribeth agrees."

 "Because Lady Aribeth is a great judge of what makes a paladin?" Valen mock-scoffed.

 "You are lucky I am Eilistraeen," Solaufein half-heartedly threatened. "No self-respecting dhaerow would ever tolerate that blasphemy."

 "Even Nathyrra agrees. You're the only one in denial."

 Solaufein muttered, "I am not a paladin," to himself as he wandered back to the group, and Valen followed with an ever-growing smile on his face. Binne returned the broad grin with one of her own when she saw him and winked at Valen over the remnants of her tea.

 Once they were gathered, Nathyrra tossed forth the idea of investigating the Temple of the Sleeping Man, and they decided to head over through the snowdrift in their new clothes, to at least kill some time while Rizolvir fixed their gear. The general consensus seemed to be that the Sleeping Man had to know something about Mephistopheles, being the oldest being in Cania - at least according to Aribeth, who had done some investigating of her own into the Sensei's religion upon her arrival into Cania. Deekin threw forth the idea of using the strange trumpet he'd pilfered from Arden's unconscious body - and the winged, mouthy tiefling was still passed out in a pool of his own drool on the floor some distance away - but Deekin was shot down immediately by a chorus of 'no' from everyone who had been forced to endure the sound of the trumpet earlier. Everyone except Nathyrra, rather, who gave the idea some careful consideration and promised Deekin that if they could find no other way to communicate with the Sleeping Man, then they might have to use that to wake him up.

 She and Solaufein led the way out of the Inn after they settled up with the dragon, and Valen shivered in the abrupt assault of ice-cold wind that blew past him with a flurry of snowflakes as they opened the door to the outside and stepped forward.

 Binne crept up behind him and grabbed his hand, the one that was hovering near Devil's Bane. He didn't mind it at all - and could feel her warmth, even through their new gloves. She smiled at him, he smiled back, and felt a little better about being trapped in Hell. After all, he was at least in good company.

Drow-to-Common Dictionary:

Dos inbal . . . Pinky-promise