Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The table was decked.
No.
The table was all but creaking underneath the weight of the delicacies heaped upon it. It would have made Rhia’s mouth water after Gale’s failed attempts at cooking were it not for the distinct smell of sulphur and brimstone hanging in the air.

Ugh…
After successfully leaving Avernus behind the young tiefling had hoped that she would never have to set foot in the Nine Hells again.
Wishful thinking, alas.

Rhia’s eyes flickered from the feast to the human in front of her. Except that- creature was anything but human.

Dark hair, sun-kissed skin and an admittedly handsome face, if a false one.
His sly smirk was disconcerting; though not so much as the look in his dark eyes.
Hungry, ambitious, cunning.

A devil in disguise.

Rhia could feel her companions shifting behind her. Wyll’s good eye frantically scanned their surroundings, Astarion reached for his concealed blade and Gale stepped back, but kept his silence, undoubtedly already planning their escape.

“Sit down, partake in the lavish supper I had my servants prepare just for you,” Raphael said with a wink.
His eyes were solely fixed on her, not paying the others any attention so far.

Rhia held his stare, deciding whether to gut him or run. Both unlikely prospects, to be frank.

How to beat a devil at his own game?
By not playing by his rules, most likely.
They do love their rules, after all.

“So, what will it be, my tadpole-infested friend?” he purred.

“That cinnamon roll does look tempting,” Rhia chirped, reaching for the sweet goodness, ignoring Wyll’s horrified look.

“A tiefling with a sweet tooth? Huh… predictable-” Raphael began, before the pastry hit his face, enveloped in a thick ball of flame.

A thick puff of smoke later, the devil finally showed his true colours; red wings and all.

A cambion, how quaint. Rhia thought, rolling her eyes.

His booming laughter took her off-guard. She had expected a curse, roaring hellfire, or his Wrath, but not this.

“Not so predictable after all, little mouse,” he chuckled, running his clawed fingers over his burned skin, healing it instantly. He spread his wings as if to allow the lowly mortals to bask in his hellish splendour.

Dramatic much?

“Using fire against a devil, however… did they teach you nothing in that orphanage?”

Rhia’s insides froze for a second at the mention of the more unpleasant aspects of her past, before regaining her composure. She wasn’t surprised that he knew about that. Information and deceit were a devil’s bread and butter after all.

“It did just what I wanted it to do. Forcing you to show your true face, devil,” she clapped back, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

The cambion’s expression turned impish. “Reminds you of home, does it?”

Rhia let out an annoyed sigh. “You never shut up, do you? Just tell me what you’re after and be done with it. I don’t have all day.”

“Understandable. Considering the looming threat of spontaneous ceramorphosis following your every step,” Raphael conceded, but Rhia couldn’t help but notice the subtle change in his fiendish expression.

Her tone must have rubbed him the wrong way.
Good. She was on the right track then.

“Let me guess: you’ll remove the tadpole in exchange for my soul?” She asked, leaning against the table.

“Well, it’s not as if you had anything else of value for me, is it?” he retorted, tilting his head.

“True. I’m just a poor little tiefling with nothing but the magic coursing through my veins and an illithid tadpole to keep me company. I’m so glad that my saviour just decided to pop up in the middle of nowhere to offer me salvation,” she said, not being stingy with the sarcasm.

Raphael watched her in contemplating silence.

“I mean, what are the odds? For a cambion to find me in my time of need? In my darkest hour—”

The devil closed the distance between them effortlessly, his face now inches in front of hers.
“This is not your darkest hour, not yet at least, demon child,” he hissed.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rhia could see Wyll unsheathing his blade.
“The Blade of Frontiers will not stand idly by when—"

Raphael pursed his lips, sighing. “Some pups are astoundingly untrained. Off you go, you already have a Mistress,” he grunted, snapping his fingers and making her three companions vanish into thin air.

Rhia narrowed her eyes at him. “Send me back, now, devil.”

“Daring tone for someone in your situation.” He hissed, not moving an inch.

“I know a nasty spell or two that can make even your day a living hell. So to speak,” Rhia warned, feeling the tides of magic bristling through her body.

It was no bluff. Her magic was as volatile as it was useful.
However, she damn well knew that engaging in combat with him would be her death.
Knowing that he wanted, no, needed something from her was making Rhia suspect that the devil wouldn’t let it come that far.
Hopefully.

Raphael’s grin widened as he looked down on her a look of intrigue on his face.

“Oh my... being threatened in my own home. And it’s not even my birthday,” he chucked, taking a step back.

“As much as I enjoy our little clap-back, I think we need to start over. I’m not your enemy. Let me prove it to you,” he said gesturing to the huge table.

“Dine with me tonight. No strings attached. Just two people getting to know one another over a glass of wine discussing some common goals in the process.”

Rhia thought about it for a moment. Shaking her head at herself mentally. You’re not seriously considering this, are you?

Raphael walked over to the table, his steps were precise, and confident, just like the smirk on his lips.

She raised a warning finger at him.
“I’m not signing anything. I’d rather kill myself than—”

The devil let out a huff, pulling up the chair for her. “No need to be so dramatic. I won’t make you sign anything, not today at least.”

Despite her better judgement, Rhia stepped towards him, sitting down on the offered chair.
“Tell me one thing, though. There are six other people with the same unusual parasites in their brains. Why me?”

Rhia could make out a faint growl vibrating through the cambion’s chest when he leaned down towards her pushing her chair towards the table.

“Because you are unpredictable. And I do love a challenge,” Raphael imparted.

The food was delicious, and the drinks were the perfect mix of inebriating and relaxing.
And by the end of their supper, Rhia knew three things.

One: that devil was dangerously charming. His charms were only surpassed by the few incubi Rhia had met during her unwilling time spent in Avernus.

Raphael was courteous to a fault, his witty humour almost wrapping her around his clawed finger had she not been on high alert the whole time.
Rhia would have been lying if she denied finding his fiendish appearance intriguing; his imposing figure… haunting...

Moving on!

Two: he was definitely planning something. Something bigger than the peculiar tadpoles or that new Cult of the Absolute.

Three: Rhia had no idea what really drove the cambion, or how she would manage to resist his temptations during more desperate times.
The only thing she did know was that she had to resist him for the sake of her soul and her heart, for a devil had neither.

Chapter Text

The smell of rot and decay invaded her nostrils violently.
Rhia fought back the urge to throw up within the tight confinement of the illithid pod they had put her in.

Hells, what she would give to never see the insides of these things again.
Maybe not her soul, but like... a little toe or something?

The cultists had captured her when she went after Ketheric Thorm into the bowels of the mind-flayer colony within Moonrise Tower.
Rhia knew that Astarion was keeping to the shadows, hopefully trying to find a way to crack that thing open and get her out of there.
She had no idea what had become of the others, however. Gale seemed convinced that blowing himself up, once they found the heart of the Absolute, was the way to go. Judging from the state of the colony around her, he hadn’t succeeded so far, thankfully.
Wyll on the other hand was probably still trying to find Zariel’s asset on Mizora’s behest.

Mizora, his Mistress from Hell.
Raphael hadn’t been lying about that, apparently. Other than Wyll, who had most likely lied about everything.

Enough resting. Time to get out of this bloody thing. Rhia cursed, sick and tired of waiting around to be rescued by them.
She was neither a damsel nor in distress; not much at least.

She knew that there had to be a console nearby, but her magic’s brute force had never failed her so far.
There was movement in front of her pod. The time of her escape was now.

“Ignis!” Rhia shouted, shielding her eyes from the flames as her magic burst the pod open.
She collapsed coughing on the ground, trying to blink the smoke out of her eyes when his resonant voice reached her ears.

"Huh... and here I thought the little mouse needed my help. What a fierce little thing." Raphael chirped, holding out his clawed hand towards her.

Rhia took his hand, letting him pull her up to her feet with one fluid movement.
The devil looked her over, the hint of concern in his fiery eyes surprising her.

“Your body seems unharmed and in perfect condition, demon child,” he stated, his eyes lingering in some places. “What about your mind, though? Tell me—” he began, grabbing her by the shoulders and locking her with his gaze. “Are you a thrall?” he all but shouted at her.

“Get your hands off me, before I fry them to a crisp, Raphael,” she hissed, shrugging him off.

“Ahhh… there’s the little spitfire I’ve missed so much,” he purred softly.

Rhia gave him a pointed look, before darting to the table to grab the staff her captors had taken from her.

"Stop flirting and start acting, devil-man! We got undead and mind-flayers to kill,” she said, to which Raphael shook his head.

“Oh, no, no. This is your fight, little one. I just came here to see that my potential asset makes it out of here alive with her sharp mind still intact. Call me your guardian, if you will…”

“You’re a devil.”

“Technicalities,” he said.

“Facts!” She retorted, before shrugging her shoulders. “Fine, I’ll do it myself then.” She stated before turning on her heel.

“You know, I could help you if you were willing to sign—”

“No!!” Rhia yelled over her shoulder.

“All right, all right! Suit yourself, little spitfire. I’m sure you’ll look ravishing as a mind-flayer,” the devil teased, before evaporating into a puff of crimson smoke.

Luck would have it that Rhia found her missing allies within that horrible colony. Astarion had indeed been searching for a way to free her. At least that was what he said.
He could also just have tried to escape that forsaken place on his own; there was no way to know for certain.
Wyll and Gale were unharmed as well and the four of them made their way to the heart of the Absolute.

The Absolute… a gods-forsaken Elder Brain crowned and controlled by the most dysfunctional group Rhia had ever seen.
A sadistic mass murderer, a cold-hearted tyrant, and an undead general. Each with a plan of their own.

Well, each and every one of their plans was doomed to begin with.

After his companions and the horrifying brain had vanished, Ketheric Thorm was destined to meet his maker. For good this time.

The chosen of Myrkul put up quite the fight, though he was still no match for the four of them.

Now, Thorm was vanquished, his Netherstone obtained.
Rhia quickly summoned a portal to the surface. Even with Thorm gone they still had two lunatics and an Elder Brain to deal with.
Her companions had already passed the portal to the surface when the ground started shaking, making Rhia stop in her tracks.

Myrkul, the Lord of Bones didn’t take the passing of his general as well as she had hoped.
The bony mass crept through an abysmal portal, rearing its ugly head a her.

Ah, for fuck’s—Rhia cursed in her mind when the enraged skeletal apparition screamed at her in Myrkul’s distorted voice.

Finally, a fight she couldn’t win.

Rhia watched the portal she had summoned for a second, her eyes meeting Gale’s, who was standing on the other side, a horrified expression on his face.

“Get out of here. Now!” She said, throwing the githyanki artefact through the portal and into his surprised hands.

“Rhia, no!” She heard him object before she closed the portal for good and turned around to face Myrkul’s skeletal spawn.

The young tiefling patted down her pockets after setting up a far too fragile shield.

One healing potion... Great, this could prolong her suffering a little and provide her allies with enough time to flee these cursed lands.

“Your life is mine, your death is mine. Once you're gone, I will make your shell my servant and send it after your friends, your loved ones. Everybody!” the skeletal being raged, destroying her shield with one sweep of its arm.

Rhia jumped back and parried the skeletal giant’s following attack with her staff.
The thing was faster than it should be.
In the blink of an eye, it grabbed the young tiefling by her leg, pulling her towards the abysmal portal it had come from.

“Join me. Shed your mortal flesh and despair,” it snarled, as it dragged her towards the gaping abyss.

‘Magresham—” Rhia cursed, sending bolt after bolt of fire at the creature. They were as effective as trying to set fire to a rock.

This was it. This was how she would die. Her grand adventure ending before it had even begun...
Maybe it was better this way. Who knew what was waiting down the path to Baldur’s Gate and to the Elder Brain? And who knew what that Devil had planned on top of that?

Raphael—

“Up your neck in— bones, I see?” he chuckled, flying down and smashing the skeletal arm to bone dust with a massive war hammer.

“Begone little devil, this one is mine!” the creature snarled, snapping its hollowed eyes towards him.

Raphael’s gaze was angry, his laughter malicious, as he spoke.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Lord of Death. Stick to your dusty bones and leave the mortal to me,”

“She’s not—”

“She will be. Stick your bony nose in your own business. Abito!” the cambion called.

Raphael, grabbed Rhia by the arms, pulling her behind him and shielding her from the blinding pillar of flame now raining down on the skeleton’s enormous skull with his wings.

Rhia watched as what was left of the thing was being sucked into the portal beyond.

The cambion’s blazing eyes found hers instantly.
“Wanted to play the martyr today, huh?” he asked, glaring down at her.

“I could’ve handled it,” she retorted, trying to get up to her feet, only to succumb to the pain in her leg.
Broken, of course.

The devil laughed, setting down the war hammer beside him. “Oh, excuse me. Would that have been before or after Myrkul’s avatar had dragged you into the abyss with it? Please excuse me for interrupting your heroic moment, my lady,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Gloat all you want, Raphael,” she hissed, trying to get into a more comfortable position, in vain.

“Oh, I intend to,” he clapped back.

Raphael went down on a knee beside her, inspecting the leg for a moment. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” he asked, fixing her with his gaze. Was there concern in there?
Impossible!

Rhia nodded, drawing in a sharp breath as he came closer.
Brimstone, leather and— lemon?

“Good. Maybe a little pain helps you learn, demon-child,” he concluded in a low and husky voice, the flicker of sympathy leaving his face instantly.
“Come now. Let’s get you patched up and ready to throw yourself into yet another act of heroism leading you into a premature grave, yes?” Raphael added, picking her up from the ground before she could utter a word of objection.

“Where are you—” she began, stopping mid-sentence when she recognised the room he had transported them to.
His library, back home; back in the Hells.

Rhia sighed. She was destined to return to the sodding Hells every now and then, apparently.
The tiefling looked around the vast room, taking in the bookshelves filled with knowledge she could only dream of. Knowledge, that Gale would wolf down like a hungry cat devours a pigeon.
The odd thing was that it was almost… homey.
Definitely better than a mind-flayer colony, Rhia thought, grinning.

Great. She was losing her mind. At long last!

Raphael set her down on the table with ease, snapping his fingers.

A female dwarf appeared beside him instantly, her eye switching from him to Rhia in an instant.

“Master, what’s—?”

“No questions, Korilla. Heal her, then begone. I’ll send her back to the surface myself,” he stated, before turning on his heel to exit the room.

“Raphael!” Rhia called out making him stop in his tracks.
“Thank you.” She added in a low voice, grimacing at the pain shooting through her body when Korilla inspected her injured leg.

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest before he answered. “So you have manners. Good to know. Now shut up and heal, demon-child,” he stated, before leaving the room.

Chapter Text

Korilla’s healing magic was spot-on. The little stiffness left in Rhia’s leg would soon be gone, thanks to the warm bath the dwarf had forced her to take.

Rhia rested her head against the tub's edge with a sigh, breathing in the pleasant scent of vanilla and jasmine. There were definitely worse things to do in the Hells.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that she was literally in Hell after a devil had rescued her from certain death.

Could have handled it—my ass! She groaned in her mind.

When Rhia closed her eyes, all she could see was Raphael’s imposing figure as he put himself between her and the Avatar of Myrkul.
Wings spread and war hammer raised, the dark leather armour complimenting his fiendish figure far better than the embroidered doublet he usually wore.

She would never admit it to anyone else, especially not the devil himself, but that picture got the breath stuck in her throat.

Rhia felt the blood rush into her cheeks as her mind started spinning images of how Raphael would look underneath that armour.

She shook her head.
Stop it! He’s literally evil incarnate!

A whistling sound reached Rhia’s ears, making her snap her head.
What the—?

“So, you’re the mortal all this fuss is about,” the dark figure said, stepping closer to the tub.
Rhia drew in a sharp breath when her eyes made out his features in the dim light, his half-naked features.

Raphael—
No, just his likeliness, a younger version of the handsome devil, scarcely dressed and oozing seduction.

An incubus.

Rhia submerged herself deeper into the foamy waters, glaring at the incubus now sitting on the edge of the tub.
He watched her intently as if trying to wrap his mind around something.

“Hmmm... I can see the appeal. Any succubus in your ancestry, little tiefling?” He asked, his voice dropping down an octave.

“Your charms won’t work on me, dypal syltmyr,” she hissed, preparing to jolt out of the tub should he come any closer.
Rhia could already smell his invigorating scent: all brimstone, leather and... lemon.

Not good. Not good at all!

“Ahhh, my heart!” the incubus joked, grabbing his chest while his smirk turned into an almost genuine smile.

“The name is Haarlep,” he bowed his head, “and it's a pleasure to finally meet you, beautiful,” he purred.

Rhia set her jaw, remaining silent, while the incubus ran his claws over the water’s surface.
“Is it too cold for you? You’re shivering,” Haarlep stated before using his magic to warm the waters significantly.

The young tiefling let out a sigh. “Did your—master send you here to boil me alive?”

Haarlep chuckled. “Raphael doesn’t know I’m here. He’d be livid, most likely--,” the incubus moved closer to her, grinning. “—If he knew I got this close to his most favourite asset.”

“I am not his asset! I would never strike a deal with him,” she said, moving away from him.

“Yet you’re in his home, taking a bath in his favourite tub. Curious, really,” Haarlep imparted, his smirk turning impish, just the way his master’s smirk did.

Why did Rhia suddenly feel like a mouse getting cornered by the cat again?
It wasn’t something she enjoyed... much.

Time to turn the tables.

“The only thing I find curious is why your Master makes you run around looking like a younger, less attractive version of himself,” she said, enjoying the slight flinch in Haarlep’s gaze. “I knew he was a narcissist, but damn—”

Rhia grinned up at the incubus, who didn’t seem to like where this conversation was going in the slightest.

“At least now, when I tell him to go fuck himself, I know that he will literally do just that,” she said with a wink.

“Raphael doesn’t fuck, he gets fucked,” the incubus hissed.

Ohhh, juicy! Rhia thought in Astarion’ s voice. The elf lived for this sort of gossip.

“He’s still got you on a leash, Haarlep,” she concluded, holding his stare as he pierced her with his eyes.

“Jealous, sweetie? You know, with the impression you made, I’m sure he would love to let you join his beautiful menagerie,” Haarlep purred, running his claws along her cheek, softly yet menacingly at the same time.

Rhia’s laughter was huskier than she wanted it to be.
“What makes you think I’d even consider an offer like that?”

“I know desire when I see it. And yours is smacking me in the face like—well… Raphael’s hard cock on a Tyrday afternoon,”

A vivid image, if any…

“All right… I think this is where the two of us part ways, Haarlep,” she stated.

“Aww… don’t want me to wash your hair? A backrub?”

“Get. out!”

The incubus got up from the tub's edge, raising his hands defensively.
“Feisty. I see now why he enjoys this so much. See you around, little tiefling. Good luck with Raphael and try not to lose your soul in the process—or something worse…” he said, disappearing into a scarlet mist.

After she was finished with the bath, Rhia searched for her robes frantically, only to find them replaced by a breathtaking silken gown.
Korilla’s doing, probably? Her old robes had been torn up in the fight, after all.

As she ran her fingers over the soft fabric, she could feel the air bristling with the imbued magic. This wasn’t an ordinary robe; that much was clear. It likely offered some protection in a fight despite the thin fabric or lack thereof.
To say the neckline was deep wasn’t quite cutting it.
Rhia watched herself in the mirror. It somehow fit her like a glove, disconcertingly so.
That didn’t seem like something the dwarf would have chosen.
This was Haarlep’s doing, most likely.

Beats leaving this place naked, I guess. Rhia thought, shrugging her shoulders before leaving the bathroom.

Now… how to get out of here?
Preferably without running into the devil of the house.
Hells, her orientation had always been lacking.

Rhia carefully opened the oaken doors in front of her, peeking into the room behind them, only to be met by his crimson eyes instantly.

He was seated in front of a lanceboard set, his chin resting on his folded hands.
“Are you done sneaking around my house, little mouse?” Raphael inquired, looking her up and down.
There was something in his eyes, but Rhia couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“I was just about to leave,” she said, stepping into the room.
Yet another library… of course.

“Without saying goodbye?” he tsked, shaking his head. “You wound me!”

“I thought it better not to disturb you so you wouldn’t be tempted to try to tempt me into taking any deal. I’m doing this for you, you know. To spare you the disappointment,” Rhia answered, stepping closer to the boardgame. “You’re losing, by the way.”

“I’m playing both sides,” he replied before indicating to the chair opposite him. “Sit down.”

Rhia shook her head, waving to the door. “I should really get going. Cultists to kill, tadpoles to get rid of—”

“No. What you should do is show a little gratitude, sapil,” he said, his eyes fixed on hers, “Now. Sit. Down.”

He didn’t raise his voice the slightest, but the tone made her knees give in almost instantly.
The smirk curling up the corners of his lips was devious.
Fitting; for a devil.

“Good girl,” he praised before he snapped his fingers. Instantly the pieces on the board were reset to their starting positions.
“You’ll leave soon enough. You will indulge me in a game first, however. As a thank you for your timely rescue,” he stated, leaving no room for further discussion.

Rhia wasn’t new to lanceboard. It was one of the few games they had been allowed to play at the orphanage.
Also, Gale, like any other respectable wizard, had summoned up a board several times to play on a slow evening.
And damn that man hated losing!

As did the devil before her, most probably.
Maybe she should let him win? To avoid his wrath and being turned into a lemure?
On the other hand, Rhia hated to lose, too…

“Are you going easy on me, demon-child?” Raphael inquired when she all but sacrificed half of her pawns for the next move.

“Should I, devil-man?” she retorted, trying to keep a straight face.

“Never,” he replied, taking her knight without averting his blazing eyes from her.

“It’s your funeral, Raphael,” she sighed, reaching for her Mystra.

“Show me,” he whispered before switching his gaze back to the board.

With one sweep, Rhia took his Cyric. “Check and mate,” she announced, leaning back in her chair, watching the devil look over the lanceboard.

She could see the muscles in his jaw tensing, his nostrils flaring ever so subtly.
Had this been a good idea? Beating a devil in his own house, at his own game, without a backup plan?

“I see,” Raphael looked up at her, “This has been enlightening, truly.” He concluded in a husky voice. “You have…revealed a lot today.”

He watched her for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face, before disappearing into a puff of smoke, only to appear right behind her chair. “Now, off you go. Fight those evil cultists, and get rid of that blasted tadpole, if you can. I’ll be close, remaining your ever-watchful guardian, don’t worry,” he whispered, resting his hands on either side of her shoulders.

“One more thing: try not to seduce too many men in that outfit. It would be a waste of your talents and a shame, truly,” he imparted before sending her back to the surface.

“Haarlep!” Raphael called once the vortex had closed behind her.

The incubus turned up behind him instantly. “Yes, Master?”

“Bedroom. Now,” Raphael hissed, his skin bristling with annoyance and arousal.

Haarlep’s hands were wrapped around his chest instantly, his hard cock already grinding against Raphael’s back in need. “Why not here, Master? Bend over that table so I can give you what you need—”

In the blink of an eye, Raphael turned around, grabbing the incubus by his throat, his nails digging into the scarlet flesh.

“No, this is not what I need,” he growled, staring down at his likeliness. You are not what I need. He added in his mind.
“Tell me. Did you see her?”

The incubus nodded silently.

Of course…

“Did you touch her?” Raphael hissed, feeling the fires of rage threatening to choke his senses. “And don’t bother lying, slave.”

Another nod.
Good.
This was good. One had to make the best of everything, yes?

Raphael pulled the incubus close to him, growling into his ear. “Turn into her. Now,” he ordered.

After the briefest moment of hesitation, Haarlep complied as always. It was the best thing about him, really.

Raphael knew that it wasn’t the same, but at that moment he didn’t mind that one bit.
Not after he had her in his house once more, not after she had bathed in his tub, defeated him at his favourite game while wearing that—tease of a dress.

The last thing had been Haarlep’s doing, most certainly.
Punishment was in order. And how to deal it out better than with him wearing her perfect face?
He could do all the harm with none of the repercussions.

It couldn’t get any better than this, could it?

After Raphael was done with his urges, he ordered the incubus to turn back.
A distant part of Raphael's mind, not even the devil himself knew he possessed, didn't enjoy the picture of Rhia's bruised and mistreated body on his bed.

"So, Master, was this everything you desired? Is your appetite sated?" Haarlep asked, rubbing his hurting jaw.

Raphael stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of his shirt.
“No, Haarlep, not even slightly,” he replied before exiting the room and leaving the incubus to lick its wounds.

Chapter Text

Rhia’s eyes immediately fell on the crimson envelope resting on her pillow when she entered her tent at night.
The blood-red letters were barely legible in the dim light.

Whoops… that was her, all right.
Rhia opened the envelope, fearing mephits swooping down upon her any moment now.
The night remained quiet, however, unlike her pounding heart.

The tiefling bit her lip, her tail twitching in the rhythm of her heartbeat.
You’re not going to do that, are you? You’re not actually that stupid, yes?

Rhia stepped in front of her tent, making the letter go up in flames, illuminating the night in a crimson light.

She took a look around the resting camp. Everyone was asleep except for Withers and Astarion, the latter being busy hunting, no doubt.

“What to do… what to do?” She whispered, chewing on her bottom lip.
“Go to bed, of course, young one,” Withers’ voice made her jump around on the spot.

“Don’t ever do that again!” Rhia hissed, glaring at the skeleton, whose expression was just as unreadable as ever.

“Thou art quite on edge. Best to rest. A new day awaits, and with it, new problems arise,” Withers imparted, his gaze drifting into the distance.

Rhia watched the undead for a moment before shaking her head. “I still have some business to take care of myself. I’ll be back first light of day,” she said, grabbing her staff.

“Thou think it’s wise? Putting thy faith in a hell-spawn in times like these?”

Rhia turned on her heel, watching the undead through narrowed eyes.
“Honestly, I don’t know what’s wise anymore. I already put my faith in a vampire spawn, a cleric of Shar, a warlock, who’s still on an infernal leash…” she began, feeling the blood rush through her veins. “—then there’s the ticking time-bomb who bedded a goddess, the tiefling with yet another bomb in her chest… and the githyanki, with a vengeful goddess on her heel,”

“Ah, and let’s not forget the undead offering resurrection services as though they were nothing more than apple pie, but who’s refusing to tell me who he really is!”

She glared at his unblinking face. “Did I forget someone?”

“The illithid residing in the artefact, which is resting in thy pocket,” Withers reminded her.

Rhia tapped her head, winking. “Thank you! I wish I’ll have that good a memory once I’m your age, my wrinkled friend.”

“A devil’s nature is deceit, its ambition as endless as purgatory. His path might be paved with souls and bones, and he would still walk it proudly. Thou should not trust him. Thou cannot trust him,”

Rhia sighed. “I don’t trust him. I’m merely going to hear him out. This sounds urgent,”

“The only thing urgent about this are – well – your urges, Tails,” Astarion spoke, as he walked towards them.

“Eavesdropping again, were you?”

“Comes with the ears,” the pale elf imparted with a wink. “It’s all right, my wrinkled friend; I’ll take it from here,” he added dismissively.

“So… about to sign your soul off, are we?” Astarion asked once Wither’s had—shambled away.

Rhia shot back a pointed look. “Oh, give me a break. Weren’t you the one who said: ‘Let’s hear him out?’ ‘Maybe he has a point?’? Or am I imagining things? Also, I’m not going to trade my soul for anything Raphael has to offer,”

She wouldn’t. Would she?

To say Astarion’s look was sceptical was not doing it credit.

“Uh-huh… sure he couldn’t persuade you into exchanging your soul for, let’s say, an edge in the fight to come? I mean, a bloody Elderbrain is waiting for us somewhere in the city, just yearning to bury us beneath a pile of goo…” He shook himself, grimacing.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but we can’t all be selfish bastards, Astarion,”

“Touché! We can’t all be naive idiots too, you know,” he sighed.

There it was, hidden behind his usual playfulness. Genuine worry.

“I can handle myself, Astarion. And I definitely don’t need you as a chaperone,”

“Oh, well, yes, I would make a better panderer, most likely,” the elf conceded with a nod. “I won’t get in the way of any wicked activities; I solely will stand guard should things go sideways, which they will.”

Rhia raised a curious eyebrow. “Why? What’s in it for you?”

The vampire was one of the most selfish persons she had met, and Rhia had met her fair share of devilkin during her time in Avernus.

“Because I care about you, silly. Is that so surprising?” He said defensively.

Rhia pursed her lips. “Astarion...”

The vampire let out a huff of indignation. “It’s true. I’m surprised myself, but I consider you a friend. Probably my only one,”

Rhia blinked before focusing on his red eyes. There was no trace of deceit in them. For once in his life, he was serious.

“Sure you won’t burst into flames or something after you said it out loud?” She teased, unable to stop herself. The mood was too grave for her liking, and she knew for a fact that the elf must hate it, too.

“Laugh it up, Tails, but I’m coming with you,” he said, strapping his shortbow to his back. “Or would you rather have one of the others escort you? I’m sure Gale would love to give you the talking-to of a lifetime—”

Rhia drew in sharp breath before dragging him along with her towards the city. “No need to fight dirty now. Let’s go, friend,” she winked, enjoining the annoyed look on his pale face.

“Figures that I find you here... in a brothel. Morals are hard to come by in the Hells, it seems,”
Rhia quipped as she entered the heavily perfumed chambers.

“Not even midnight, and you already wound me, sapil. Have a heart!”

“Says the devil!” she threw back.

Raphael was sitting behind a large desk in his human form, eying her over the rim of his goblet.
Was it weird that she had hoped he’d meet her in his cambion form?
Hells... there wasn’t even a question about that.

Bloody weirdo... Rhia scolded herself as she walked towards him after closing the door behind her.

“Come. Sit down and have a drink. Travelling is hard work,” Raphael purred, gesturing to the cushioned chair before him. “I take it your— companion won’t join us?” he inquired, filling a second goblet and setting it before her.

Of course, he knows I didn’t come here alone. Nosy devil!

“Astarion has other business to attend to. Also, you wrote to come alone.”

“And you did what I told you. How— refreshing. However, you’re never truly alone,” he paused momentarily before raising his hand and snapping his fingers. “Now... some privacy, finally,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair.

The sudden— emptiness inside her mind made Rhia furrow her brows.
“W-wha— you tuned out the tadpole’s influence? How?”

“Well, with my hellish powers, of course, my dear. Nothing is impossible if you’re on the right end of the food chain, demon-child,”

His smirk was wicked and too enticing for anyone’s good.
“Raphael!” She warned, setting down her goblet.

“Don’t worry. I solely did it so that the two of us could speak plainly without any uninvited ears,” he began, leaning forward in his chair.
“Your illithid companion has lied to you… manipulated you from the start. I understand why he did it, but I can’t fathom why you would let him,” Raphael said, shaking his head.
“He’s using you to get what he wants. Control of the Crown of Karsus. Once he has it, he will discard you like he did his old skin.”

Raphael’s face was contorted in disgust. The thought of ceramorphosis was revolting of course and the fabric of her recent nightmares.
Rhia didn’t like the thought of turning into a two-meter, hovering squid, nor did she like the idea of her saviour being one.

The Emperor had lied to her. He had taken the form of a tiefling... not just any tiefling, oh no. The squishy bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

He had taken a form closely resembling Tyas... her older brother who had died in. the Blood Wars.
Rhia had suspected from the start that it had to be some sort of illithid trickery but decided to roll with it.
The artefact and the Emperor had protected them until now, despite their saviour sporting those tentacles.

Ugh... she shuddered.

Still, he was a liar and nothing else. The actual reason why she was able to resist the Elder Brain’s control was the trapped Orpheus, not the tentacled liar.
Raphael was right in telling her she shouldn’t trust him.
Raphael, however, was a devil. And under no circumstances should anyone ever trust a bloody devil.

“I can give you the means to free the githyanki prince. Break his chains and get rid of that meddling squid. Then go after the Elder Brain and become the hero this city - nay - Faerûn deserves,” Raphael continued, his voice sweet, tempting… too tempting.

“What do you want, Raphael?” Rhia inquired.

His smile widened as he spoke, “Straight to business. Nothing gets past you. I do like that about you.”

That charming smile, that infuriating smugness.

That’s it.

“You’re prancing around like a cat and toying with your food. I’m sick of it,” Rhia hissed, shooting up from the chair. “I’m sick of having to do all the work while carrying all responsibility should things go south. All while not having the faintest idea what it’s all about,” she noticed her voice getting louder but didn’t care.

Not.
One.
Bit.

She stared down at him, his human face betraying none of his emotions. Damn him.

“You want the crown for yourself, don’t you? A bit of corrupted weave just for you, yes? Planning on taking on the heavens, are we?” Rhia snarled.

“The Nine Hells are enough—” he began.

“—for now,” Rhia interrupted him. “Nothing will ever be enough. Not for the likes of you, devil.” She concluded, gritting her teeth.

“Your thirst for power is sickening. Zariel’s like this, Asmodeus as well… and damn if Mephistopheles isn’t the worst one of that infernal bunch. So far, at least.”

Rhia felt the magic within her resonate with the waves of rage washing over her. Her chair toppled over as she stomped to the door.

“Bloody devils. Just go to hell where you belong—” she grunted, reaching for the doorknob.

The whooshing sound registered in her brain one moment too late. Raphael’s clawed hand was already baring her way forward.
Her eyes flicked over the tense muscles on his underarm before gliding towards his crimson face. He glared down at her in his cambion form, his face a mask of rage.

So, the devil does show emotions, she thought, resisting a shudder.

Fury. Pure. Fury.

“Do not invoke a devil’s name if you’re not prepared to face him, demon-child,” he snarled, glaring down at her.
She knew she should be afraid. Rhia knew she should use her magic to get out of there right that second. But damn, if she wasn’t past the point of caring now.

“Who says I’m not prepared to face the devil, huh?” She turned around, staring back up at him. “I might not be able to kill you in this realm, but I can send you back to the Hells. Once there, your kind dies just like anybody else.”

Are you mental? The little voice of reason in her head asked her.

While Raphael’s one hand was pressed against the door, his other was tightening around her bare arm. His grasp was firm, painful.
Good thing the tiefling was used to pain.

Rhia drew herself up to her full height. Not very impressive, considering who she was dealing with.
“Isn’t that why you love spending time up here? That and toying with your food, kitten?” she hissed.

Silence. Speechless silence.

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you, little mouse. I enjoy that about you, but you’re starting to play with fire while the flames already burn sky-high,” he growled, tightening his grip around her arm.

Rhia’s magic flared up, sparks flying over her skin. “Let go of me. Now.”

The devil tsked, shaking his head. “I’m not taking kindly to demands and less so if combined with a threat.”

A burning sensation was spreading from his iron grip on her arm, starting to become uncomfortable fast.
Was that devil burning her?
Rhia drew in a pained breath, staring up at him in silence.

“Painful, isn’t it? Say, ‘Please, my Lord’, and I’ll consider letting it slide. Just this once,” he warned.

The tiefling pressed her lips shut, suppressing the urge to cry out in pain.
She wouldn’t relent. There was nothing he could do to her, not pain he could inflict that she didn’t already know and had experienced tenfold in Avernus.

Raphael grabbed her other arm, the searing pain now doubled.
Just give in, you stubborn fool!

“I know another just like you. Well, not like you. Your stubbornness is— second to none. But even she relented, in a way.”

A pained croak escaped Rhia’s lips involuntarily as the pain got unbearable.
That would definitely leave a mark.

The devil glared at her; his face contorted in anger. What had she even done? Other than threatening him that she could kill him? That wasn’t new, was it?

“Say it! Or markings will be the least of your problems,” he warned, pushing her against the door.

Rhia tried tapping into her magic, tried conjuring up… something. But her brain was far too preoccupied with the agony coursing through her body.

Magresham—

“Please— my Lord,” she spat out, sighing in relief as the burning stopped.

Raphael’s mouth was at her ear instantly. “Next time, use another tone, darling,” he growled, removing his hands from her arms.

Rhia’s eyes flickered open, looking at the marks now adorning her arms. The shape of the devil’s clawed hands now etched into her skin permanently.
A constant reminder of her recklessness.

She gritted her teeth, staring back up at him.
Raphael let out a sigh, taking a step back. “Don’t give me that look. You’ve but to blame yourself for this outcome. Here—” he conjured a small flask into his hands. “Drink up. It helps with the pain,” he said.

The tiefling blinked. Looking from the flask containing the iridescent liquid up to the cambion.

What the—?

“Don’t trust me?”

“You just burned me!”

Without so much as batting an eye.

He inspected her burnt flesh, running a clawed finger over the edges of the injuries he had inflicted.
“You got a little singed, nothing more,” Raphael retorted. “Don’t tell me this was too much for you to handle. You, who soared over the planes of Avernus, taking out Demons of all shapes and sizes. You, who spent time in the presence of devils, walked amongst them and lived.”
Raphael shook his head. “You should know better than this.”

Rhia watched him, unblinking. Everything he said was true. She should know better.
Despite his charms and his manners, Raphael was still a devil.
One moment he was the most reasonable and charming being, and the next… Hellfire, literal Hellfire.

She looked at her wounds.
Idiot.

Rhia knew all that, knew what she should have been expecting… then why did her chest feel so-- peculiar? As though somebody had punched her in the guts and then twisted them most unpleasantly.
Even worse than the burning pain on her arms.

Raphael was still holding out the flask.
“Come now. I don’t want you to be in any more pain than necessary. Lesson learned, yes?”
There was a glint in his eyes that set her insides on fire.

No, stop it!

The devil seemed his old self again. Gone was the fury being replaced by his gentlemanly persona.
Rhia took the flask out of his hands, downing the pleasant liquid in one go without averting her eyes from his.

The pain was gone instantly. The scars remained there permanently.
She knew some devils were branding their… property, though not like this.

The cambion looked pleased with himself, running his clawed fingers along his chin while watching her.
“So, now that we’re all reasonable again,” he snapped his fingers, summoning parchment and quill into his hands. “How about we get back to business? Sign the contract, free the prince and bring me the crown. Easy as that, demon-child,” he purred.

Back to business. Just like that. Like nothing had happened.
The twisting sensation in her gut became seriously annoying.

“Hand me that contract,” Rhia said in a low voice, making the cambion’s eyebrows go up in surprise.
Her eyes flickered over the writing for a moment.
Pretty standard if it weren’t written in… verse? Rhia thought, reading through it.

“If you’re trying to find the fine print, there is none. I’m not that kind of devil,” Raphael imparted.

No, you’re not. You’re the kind of devil that is charming yet distant, colly calculating yet quick-tempered, a walking contradiction if any.

She held his gaze while setting the contract on fire, the flames being reflected in his fiery eyes.

“No contract and no more games, Raphael. If you want my help, don’t treat me like I’m some dumb warlock, which I’m not. You want to take over the Hells? Be my guest. I couldn’t care less what happens to that bloody wasteland. However, if it’s the Crown you need, you might need to try a different approach,” Rhia spat out before storming out of the room, before he could get the chance to burn the rest of her trembling body to a crisp.

Chapter Text

Raphael stared at the door, which had just been shut in front of his face in silence.

“She didn’t just do that, did she?” Korilla whispered the moment she appeared behind him.

“Go after her. Don’t dare come back until you talked some sense into that-- brat,’ Raphael pressed through gritted teeth.

“And Korilla.” The cambion turned around towards his servant. “Should she continue to be this stubborn, ensure that she will survive any fights to come until she’s on top of that blasted Elder Brain and in possession of the crown.”

Korilla appeared befuddled.
“But Master… won’t it be easier to convince one of the others to get the crown for you? The female githyanki, for instance. Lae’zel, I think… she wouldn’t hesitate to sign a pact if it meant saving Prince Orpheus.”

Raphael’s blazing eyes were cutting through the dwarf. “No. Now go! I don’t want to hear more from you. You have your orders.”

Once the Warlock had disappeared with a bow, Raphael strode to the desk, grabbing some parchment and quill.
His heart was pounding in his chest as fury held him in its chokehold once more.
The devil didn’t even know with whom he was more furious. That little brat or himself.

For a mortal to have that kind of gall was something he hadn’t experienced so far. Showing that amount of defiance towards a devil was daring, to put it mildly.
Especially considering her background.

Discarded by her own family. Tossed into the fires of Avernus as a sacrifice.
Found her lost brother in Avernus, only to lose him to the demonic forces.
Fought in the Blood Wars under Zariel’s banner.
Her success at killing demons had earned her the attention of archdevils; above all Mephi - fucking - stopheles.
Lord of the Eight, Lord of Hellfire, the Archdevil of Contradictions and Raphael’s cursed progenitor.
The crimson ink splattered across the page as Raphael forcedly put the quill down.

How dare she?

Stand in the presence of a Devil like this? As though he was merely one of her followers and not someone who could become her greatest nightmare.
Her face appeared in front of his mind’s eye.
Piercing eyes, set jaw and a slight smirk on her lips.

Kitten— she snarled.
That insolent little—

Raphael crumpled the parchment, tossing it into the room’s far end, where it went up in flames.

He had done everything by the book. Had been charming yet threatening enough to keep her on her toes to get her where he wanted her to be.

Except, that woman was nowhere where he wanted her to be.
Stark-naked and sprawled on his bed, fulfilling his desires before he even knew them himself.

He slammed his fist on the table, cursing at his primal urges.

The tiefling wasn’t the first mortal he had worked on nor the first one who tried to resist him. Countless had fallen into his trap and were now in his servitude for the rest of eternity.
From the lowly peasant to the highest lordling... Sometimes it was easier, and other times, Raphael had to work for those damned souls.
In the end, however, the devil always got what he wanted. It had been like this for ages, like a rule of nature.

But no.

This one was different. This one wasn’t playing by his rules, and still - he clenched his fists - she was winning his game.

No. Never!

Every mortal had a weakness; he just had to find hers.
Most of them wanted power. That, however, was not the case with her. She was already content with the magic within her— at peace.
He grimaced.

The tiefling didn’t want for anything, and there was nothing he could take from her without binding her into a pact which she would never sign in the first place.
There had to be something she held dear... someone she would do anything for. Maybe even sign her soul away.
Mortals were simple, really. They valued ridiculous things that a devil had no use for, like love, friendship, family—

Family...

Her brother died in the Blood Wars. That didn’t mean he was truly gone, though.
A thought formed inside the devil’s mind. Dark and wicked and spreading like hellfire.

If he did this, she would hate him wholeheartedly and with good reason.

Raphael ran his claws along his chin in thought. If he did this, however, she would have the rest of eternity to get to terms with it.
The rest of eternity in my servitude... at my beck and call.

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest as his plans assumed shape.
Raphael could think of one or two things he would make her do to pass the time, one or ten positions he could picture her in.

Eternity didn’t seem like such a drag now, after all.

Rhia stormed down the brothel’s stairs. She ignored the Emperor, trying to get her attention from within the artefact she carried in her pocket. There was no way in Hell she wanted to talk to yet another manipulator today.
The tiefling nearly crashed into Astarion on her way out had the elf not stopped her first.

“Whoa there! What crawled up your ass, darling? Not that charming devil, you wouldn’t be out here then...” Astarion said, raising a cocky eyebrow.

She didn’t even register him there, trying to push past him. Out of here, away from this damned city—

“Rhia! You’re acting as though the devil was after you— wait!” Astarion looked behind her without letting go of her. “He’s not... is he? What happened?”

“I need to get out of here. I’m sick and tired of bloody everything. Why should I care if an Elder Brain takes over Faerûn? Why should I care if we all turn into mindflayers, huh? Makes communicating a lot easier, don’t you think? Also, we wouldn’t even need to think. Every decision could be made for us. That’s a lot less of a hassle, yes?!” She spluttered, struggling against his grasp.

Her thoughts were running in circles, spirals, or - no - in bloody pentagrams.

“Rhia. Calm, the fuck, down!” The elf hissed, looking around frantically. “You’re making people nervous!” He added with a coy smile and nod over her shoulder.

“They should be nervous! A bloody Elder Brain is sitting right—”

“Oh, for fuck’s—”

In the blink of an eye, Astarion’s lips pressed themselves on hers, robbing her of oxygen and thus snapping her back to reality instantly.

The tiefling pushed him away, drawing in a sharp breath. “What the blazing Hells?!”

Astarion looked down at her. “Got you to shut up, didn’t it,” he grimaced. “Let’s never do that again, yes?”

Rhia nodded, wiping her lips, “Agreed. That felt wrong.”

“So wrong!”

They looked at one another for a moment before shaking themselves in disgust.

“Still. I need to get out of here. Somewhere far away—” Rhia began.

The vampire shook his head. “No. What you need is a drink. And not that sorry excuse for wine we have back at camp nor Wyll’s ‘special’ brew,” he said before dragging her into the brothel’s taproom.

He ushered her to a table within an alcove, ordering two drinks from the busty barmaid while his eyes never left her.

“What happened in there?” Astarion asked.

Rhia took a big swig from the tankard before recounting the events upstairs.
The elf’s eyes switched from her face to her marked arms.

“You didn’t just do that, did you?” He whispered as she was done.

“That was my exact reaction, vampire,” Korilla’s voice made Rhia snap her head around.

Rhia narrowed her eyes at the dwarf. “You can go right back to your Master. My answer remains the same.”

Korilla pulled up a chair and sat down beside them. “You really should reconsider. Raphael’s offer was very generous. He is very generous if you remain on his good side, that is.”

Rhia couldn’t help but snort as she indicated to her burn marks.
“I’d say I’m past being on his ‘good side’, wouldn’t you agree?”

“That’s nothing. He was holding back.”

“That was— holding back?” The tiefling shook her head.

Bloody devil...

“Certainly, if a tad bit surprising,” Korilla mused. “Devils aren’t naturally known for their temperance; you, of all people, should know that.”

“So, you’re saying I should reconsider his offer and forgive him this little ‘outburst’ because it was my own fault for angering him. Is that it?”

“If you knew what was good for you, you would,” The dwarf paused for a second, her smile vanishing. “I knew a girl like you once. Stubborn, lively— hopeful…” Her eyes drifted off for a second before she focused on Rhia again. “That girl is now nothing more than a spirit of desperation. That’s what happens if you defy Raphael, and that’s what will happen to you if you don’t take his deal.”

“I don’t need him to win this thing, you know. I don’t need him as my patron nor my guardian,” Rhia said. “Isn’t an infernal contract supposed to benefit both parties? At least until the point that my soul enters eternal damnation? The only thing I’m gaining from this is trading one liar for another.”

Rhia got up from her chair, looking down at the dwarf. “And I just think I might choose the one that doesn’t throw violent temper tantrums when I tell him no.”

So far, at least.

“Tell Raphael I don’t need his 'help'. I’m not one to betray my allies, no matter how many tentacles they’re sprouting.”

Rhia could feel the Emperor’s presence stir within her mind, but he remained silent. Almost as though he didn’t want any part in this.

“That devil should just forget about me and try a different way to get that blasted crown. He’s resourceful, after all.”

The dwarf stood up, leaning over the table. “Raphael won’t let this rest. He won’t let you rest.”
Korilla’s voice was stern, her eyes cold as she spoke. “Once you’ve dealt with the Cult and the brain, he’ll be there getting what’s rightfully his. Whether you want to or not. He always gets what he wants.”

The dwarf watched her, her gaze telling her more than any words could express. Her look was dead-serious, the glint of fear in her eyes and something else, something closely resembling jealousy.

Well, he won’t get me. Not after tonight, not ever.

“Goodbye, Korilla,” she said, gesturing for Astarion to follow her.

“I’m imploring you to rethink this, Rhia. I’ll try to— reason with Raphael in the meantime, though you can imagine the odds of that being successful.”

Once they were back at camp, Rhia asked herself how she had thought the night to end when she set out to meet the devil.

She looked down at the… teasing dress she had put on and scoffed.

It took a special kind of idiot to think that a devil had anything else in mind than to satisfy his thirst for power.
Even one as charming as Raphael.

‘So… you’re done with the devil, I take it?’ The Emperor’s voice sounded within her mind.

She grunted, lying on the bedroll and glaring at the tent’s ceiling. Could you maybe, just this once, mind your own bloody business?

‘This is my business. From what I could gather, it was my life on the line.’

Rhia rolled her eyes in annoyance. Yeah… that’s the only thing of importance to you. It’s why you’ve made it this far in the first place.

Despite his silence, she could feel the illithid’s fury vibrating through their shared connection.

“Would you calm down? I said that I wouldn’t betray you, and I meant it. I’ll gather the other two Netherstones, and we’ll defeat that blasted brain.”

After which Raphael will surely become a problem.

One step at a time, Rhia. She told herself after the Emperor’s presence had left her alone once again.

Giant brain first, insufferable devil later.

Chapter Text

Rhia stood on the dock, looking at the trackless sea with Gale beside her. The sun was starting to rise over the horizon, drenching the scene in a warm light.
Everything was still, serene.

It felt wrong.

“I’ll take care of the crown,” Gale said. “I can feel it somewhere close in the riverbed.”
The wizard stretched out his arms, closing his eyes in concentration.

“You’ll get it back to Mystra, yes?” Rhia asked, sitting down beside him, drawing ragged breaths. The fight had been more than draining.

Shadowheart’s healing magic had helped, but the cleric was out cold now, resting in some abandoned house with Astarion.
The vampire had fled the scene at the first ray of sun touching his skin. Understandable, considering the imminent threat of being reduced to a pile of undead ashes.
There’d be more time later to go through the events and discuss his plans for the future.

Surely…

An unpleasant feeling of restlessness went through the tiefling’s body. As though she had forgotten something.
They had won. The brain was dead, and every hostile mind flayer had been taken care of.
The Emperor – no – Balduran had disappeared right after the fight. Something about fearing the wrath of the citizens despite having fought on their side. He planned on working from the shadows again to protect his own skin, of course.
Understandable, considering he was a shellfish bastard.

Rhia chuckled tiredly at the thought, watching Gale focus his magic on retrieving the Crown of Karsus.

A bloody piece of jewellery which had caused harm on cataclysmic levels. Not only once but twice so far.
At least it would be gone for good soon enough.

Hopefully…

Another shiver of restlessness wrecked her body.

The water started to bubble and hiss like an overheating cauldron when the pieces of the Crown finally came into view.
Gale extended his arm, reaching for it when - finally - everything went south.

In a matter of seconds, sheer and utter chaos broke loose.

Rhia heard nothing but the sound of her own heart drumming in her ears.

Thump, Thump.

The fiery blade came out of nowhere. A heartbeat later, the wizard’s hand lay on the floor, separated from the rest of his body.

Thump, Thump.

His anguished cries reverberated through her body— they would stick with her for a long time.

Thump, Thump.

The smell— burnt flesh mixed with sulphur and brimstone- instantly snapped her out of her trance.

Rhia was on her feet, diving before the flaming blade and casting the repelling charm with the last ounce of magic still in her body.
She threw her last healing potion at Gale’s feet, hoping it would be enough to get him through this.

While the wizard cowered behind her, holding what was left of his arm and groaning in pain, Rhia was about to go down on her knees beside him.

No...

The tiefling had felt pain, sorrow, and searing agony, but the scene in front of her was more effective than a punch to the gut.

No, no, no, no!

There he was.
Black, tied-back hair, horns – one massive, the other broken and filed back -green fiery eyes and a sly smile on his lips, one that didn’t reach his eyes.
There he was.
He was standing in front of her as though he hadn’t been run through by a demon’s blade and died in her own bloody arms.

“Tyas—” Rhia breathed, nearly dropping her staff as her eyes tried to comprehend the picture before her.

“Hey, little Hellcat,” the figure wearing her brother’s face replied.

No, this couldn’t be. She had died atop that damned brain, and this was Hell, hence the smell of brimstone, leather and—

Lemon…

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Rhia whipped her head up, her eyes meeting his instantly. His real ones, not the ones the cambion usually showed to mortals.

“My, my… what a lovely family reunion. The tension, the drama, the tears…” Raphael’s voice reached her ears.

Playful, cocky—and something else, something darker.

Rhia’s gaze switched from an agonised Gale to the Crown’s pieces scattered on the ground next to his severed hand.

Gods!

She needed to get him out of here and to Mystra, him and the Crown.

One last spell, come on!

“Sie por—” the words got stuck in her throat, the sparks of failed magic sizzling in the air.

The devil’s warlock appeared behind him, her magic aimed at the tiefling.
Rhia would have cursed her lungs out had she not been silenced.

The heavy thud of Raphael’s footsteps on the dock sent fear through her tense body.
She couldn’t let him have the Crown; she wouldn’t let him have it.

One, the first piece landed back in the Chionthar.
Two; the second joined the first one in the still waters.
Three; the third one was about to be stomped into the ground, had her foot listened to her.

The tiefling’s body stiffened as it hovered a few feet over the ground. Her brain tried sending word to her muscles to act, in vain. As Raphael drew nearer, Rhia felt the holding spell curl around her limbs, chest, and throat.

“Tsk, tsk—so much fight even after that battle. You never know when it’s enough, do you?” He asked, raising her up to his height.

Rhia glared at him.
No, she never knew when it was enough. Hells, she would have spat in his smug face if he had left her in control of her tongue and throat.

Raphael’s voice dropped into a whisper. “That look is all the answer I need. It will be my pleasure to carve it out of you—”

His gaze switched to the one piece of Karsus’ Crown still clutched in her hands before his half-smile widened. “You know what? Let’s make a deal.”

No way in the Nine Hells—

“And before you say anything – I know you literally can’t right now – consider your options,” Raphael’s mouth was now inches from her ear. “That piece of Crown within your hands for the wizard’s life. You know I can get it anyway, but I preferred if it was given freely, so to speak.”

You son of a devil-laying bit—

“Wink twice for yes.”

Her gaze wandered from the cambion towering in front of her to the wizard lying next to her and then to – someone who looked like her dead brother, only pretty much alive and wielding his old hellfire longsword.

Oh, for fuck’s sake…

Rhia winked. What else could she do, really?
Raphael’s face lit up, and he snapped his fingers, instantly making her meet the ground.
They didn’t exchange a word, as Rhia gave him the piece of Crown while he ordered Korilla to take care of Gale’s wounds.

“The Crown isn’t yours, devil! It belongs to Mystra! The consequences of using it--” Gale ranted.

“—won’t affect me. Mind you, I’m not a mortal trying to achieve godhood; I am already halfway there.”

Sure, you are, you megalomanic— maybe it was a good thing that she was still silenced. The devil would definitely kill her if she uttered her current thoughts freely.

“Now, to you, little Hellcat,” Raphael chuckled, turning his attention back to Rhia, who suppressed a shudder at this particular term of endearment. “Despite our previous differences, I still have one last proposition for you.”
He bent down towards her, running his claws along her jaw before forcing her to look up at him. “The last proposition you’ll ever get from me, so choose wisely, sapil,” he whispered.

“Korilla, take care of the Crown. Tyas, with me. This proposition is also for your ears,” Raphael said before snapping them back into his home.

Back into the Hells. The blasted, blighted, bloody Hells!

She recognised the library from the last time she had been there, except it looked like a small army had marched through it. The lanceboard had been removed, too.
Odd…

He probably just wanted to redecorate— Rhia thought.

-- the walls with your innards, you mean?
A little voice added in her mind.

She looked from the devil to the one wearing Tyas’ face, and her stomach clenched.
Unwanted pictures flooded her mind, unneeded reminders of what she had fought hard to forget.

The stillness around them was eerie. Where the battle had been in full swing mere moments ago, there was nothing but smouldering ashes and rubble.

Zariel’s forces had pushed the demonic forces back. But at what cost?

At what fucking cost?!

Rhia looked down at her brother lying in her arms, the warmth leaving his body, the threads of life slowly fading away.
He had taken the blade, which should have been her undoing, and had done it without a second thought.
Stupid heroism ran in the family, after all.

“Tyas...” she whispered, softly stroking his cheek.

“I’m not dead yet. Don’t dare start crying before I’m gone,” he scolded, but the bite had left him.

“You bloody uvuaz…”
The tiefling would have smacked him if he wasn’t so far gone already. She was no healer, and he was too injured for any healing potion in her possession.
Rhia would have tried praying if they hadn’t been in the Hells; the gods had no power here, after all.

“It was the least I could do… after failing to be there for most of your life, sis.”

“I could have handled it, Hellhound—”

Tyas chuckled. “Next time you will,” His eyes drifted towards the blazing skies. “I just wished I had seen the skies of Toril before going out,” his voice turned into a whisper.

Her hands found their way to his temples; her magic was all but depleted, but still, it might just suffice.

The illusion wasn’t perfect. It was nothing like the real thing, though it was better than the flaming wasteland surrounding them.
Swaying branches, lazy clouds flying past on a sky so blue it quenched your thirst by merely looking at it.

A smile curled at the corners of Tyas’s lips.
“Thank you… take care, little Hellcat,” he breathed before leaving her to her tears.

Rhia blinked away the tears as old wounds were being torn open harshly.
About a year after Tyas’ death, she had escaped Avernus on the Nautiloid; infected with a mind flayer tadpole but still… a worm in the head was worth two in the pod or something like that.

Tyas stood there, watching her with an expression of sorrow in his eyes and a thin smile on his lips.
His mouthed apology made her heartache.
I’m sorry—

No, I am… Rhia thought, swallowing the lump that had built up in her throat.
It was him, after all. This somehow made things far worse.

“I’d offer you a drink and seat, but I know you’re not one for idle chatter. So, straight to business, yes?” Raphael said, summoning another contract into thin air.

Rhia groaned. At least she wasn’t silenced any longer.
“You have the Crown. What more could you possibly want, devil?”

The devil’s smile turned wicked as he stepped towards her. “Your soul for your brother’s soul. Simplicity at its finest.”

“Why?” Rhia breathed, shaking her head. “Why are you so bloody persistent? There are countless souls out there you can reap and give to Asmodeus as tribute. Why do you insist on getting mine?!”

“Because some souls shine brighter than others,” Raphael whispered before gesturing towards Tyas. “Take your big brother, for example. I found him in the darkest soul pit, a place I would only send my greatest enemies to. His soul shone like a beacon amidst the darkness, hard to miss, really. Yet yours…” he turned back to her, “—is fucking blinding.”

She shuddered, and not in a good way.

“Claws off her, devil!” Tyas snarled, taking a step forward.

“Or what? Forgot that you’re bound to me, boy?” Raphael chuckled. “Now, back to the matter at hand,” he added, summoning a quill.
“Read it first, of course. I truly went out of my way with this one.”

Rhia rolled her eyes before grabbing the contract.

“In verse, really?”

“Surprised?”

“Not in the slightest...”
Everything was a joke to that devil.

Trading in your first-born son for a motherfucking pun.
Suffer eternity below him for a badly written poem.

Damn, it was infectious!

“So, you saved his soul from the pits to force me into signing my soul away,” Rhia said in a low voice, looking at Tyas.

Her eyes scanned the contract once more. There was nothing else than those two verses and the devil’s name below them, his signature just as flamboyant as the rest of his personality.

“And he’ll be free after that? Alive and free?” She whispered, straining to keep her voice levelled.

Raphael rested his hand over his chest, nodding solemnly. “If I value one thing, it’s honouring a contract.”

That was neither a yes or a no.

Fuck!

Tyas shook his head behind the devil, telling her she shouldn’t even play with the thought of considering this... trap .

“So, what will it be, mortal?”

“Can I at least talk to my brother before making that decision?”

“Sign the contract; there’ll be plenty of time to talk to him afterwards.”

“I’ll think about signing it after I talk to him,” Rhia said with the last bit of defiance she could muster up.

“We’re long past you making any demands, don’t you think, sapil?”
The cambion’s voice was stern, lacking all of his usual playfulness.

“Please...”

“We’re also long past pleading. That could have worked the first time you refused my deal, maybe even the second or third time... you see where I’m going with this, yes? Sign. The. Contract.”

Did he, perchance, get any taller since the last time they spoke? His claws sharper, his canines longer?
Behind him, Tyas mouthed a silent ‘Don’t’.

Rhia smiled at him sadly. “You took a bloody blade for me, Hellhound,” she whispered, reaching for the pen.

She didn’t pay attention to Raphael when she finally signed her name on the floating parchment. She could only imagine the triumphant look on his face.
Once she was done, the devil grabbed her wrist. Without averting his blazing eyes from hers, he dug one of his sharp claws into her thumb forcefully, drawing blood.

“Sanguine ligatus in aeternum,” the cambion spoke as he ran her bloodied thumb over her signature.

The contract disappeared instantly in a puff of smoke, with it, the tiefling’s freedom. Another parchment appeared in its place, only to be reduced to ashes a moment later.

“You have five minutes before I send him back to Toril,” Raphael said in a low voice, letting go of Rhia’s wrist.

“No,” Tyas stated, striding towards them.
The cambion pinched the bridge of his nose, huffing, “What is it with this family and the word ‘no’, huh?”

“I won’t leave my sister behind, Raphael,” Tyas smiled down at her warmly. “Set up a new contact. If she’s bound to the Hells, I won’t leave--”

“Tyas, you mad idiot!” Rhia cried out as he wrapped his arms around her.” I didn’t sacrifice my soul for this! Just leave for Hells’ sake!”

It was him. Alive and... as well as he could be considering the circumstances: her stupidly courageous brother.

By the look on his face, the cambion tried to understand what was happening but was failing at it miserably.
“You understand that you are free, yes? And you still want to offer your soul to... remain here with her?”

“Gods...” Tyas groaned in annoyance. “Yes, Devil. I’m not a dumb warlock!”

“I heard that one before somewhere,” Raphael said, his gaze switching between them.
“Well, I won’t say no to a soul offered so willingly.”

Raphael snapped another scroll into existence. “This one’s pretty standard. ‘Tyas Greylocke offers his soul for eternal servitude to remain in his sister’s company. Sign here,” the cambion imparted, holding out the quill.

Rhia wanted to grab the parchment, tear it apart and set it on fire... but if she knew her brother as well as she thought she did, it was no use. It would have been easier to convince a wizard to relinquish his magic.
So, she watched him sign his doom underneath the devil’s keen eye. The contract disappeared just like hers in a puff of crimson smoke.

“Perfect. Your first order will be to get out of sight until I call upon you.”

When Rhia turned to leave, his claws dug into her shoulder instantly.

“Not you, of course. I still have one or ten bones to pick with you... Begone now; you have all the time in the Hells to talk to her, Hellhound,” Raphael scoffed, making Tyas disappear into the portal he had conjured behind him.

Had she just glimpsed a bed through the portal? A real bed with pillows and all?
The exhaustion was instant. At that moment, she felt every cut and bruise covering her body. Every badly healed injury and every ounce of magic missing from her very being.

“Raphael, I had a really long day--”

When was the last time she had slept? Not counting potions. The tiefling exhaled a ragged breath, steadying herself on the desk beside her.
Were there suddenly two of him? Gods, she hoped not!

“You’ll get used to it. Working for me is hard work, but you’re resilient, resourceful-- rebellious...” He moved towards her, making Rhia back up against the desk, “... and this rebellious soul is now mine .”

Her head spun as his scent invaded her nostrils, etching into her brain.

“Raphael... please, I—I need to rest... please, you can pick any bones you want with me l-later...” she stammered, fighting against the urge to collapse against his imposing figure. He paused, looking down at her.

“ Any bones? Careful what you promise, sapil,” his clawed fingers found their way underneath her chin, tilting her head up towards him.

His eyes were burning with something rather disconcerting.
“You’re no use to me like this anyway. Wash up and rest. I’ll send Korilla by your room once she’s back,” he scanned her face momentarily. “You won’t collapse until then, yes?”

“N--” Rhia began as her knees finally gave in.
She felt the cambion’s clawed hand wrap around her shoulders before she met the ground. His strong arms lifted her up against his chest as the strength left her limb by limb. He was warmer than she remembered him.
The last thing the tiefling heard was the low growl rumbling through the devil’s chest when unconsciousness hit her like a hammer.

After he had laid her down on the bed, Raphael took a step back to look at her. The new favourite soul in his menagerie.
For something so fragile, there was too much fight in that little Hellcat.

He grinned. That nickname was most fitting; he’d keep it.

Today had been a good day, a bloody marvellous day, really.
After months of her having the upper hand, he had finally turned the tables, and with what outcome!

This blindingly bright soul was finally his to own and command; her iron will all but broken. Still... why did it feel— insufficient?

He let his eyes wander over her resting body, her slowly heaving chest waiting to be touched, her dark and tousled hair asking to be pulled...

He bit his lip.

Through the fabric of her torn robes, he could see the burn marks he had left on her arms. The outlines of his hands were clearly recognisable on her otherwise immaculate skin.
There was room for so many more marks, so many places where he could claim his ownership of her.

Why not start now? The dark voice within him spoke. Put some iron on that rebel and claim her.

The cambion contemplated for a moment, his eyes glued to the tiefling’s unconscious body before he shook his head.
No, there was plenty of time for that once she woke up.
Why not? Going soft, vyjud? The darkness snarled at him.

On the contrary… it’ll be far more interesting when she’s awake for that. He replied, still unable to pull his gaze from her.

The devil ran his claws along the hard bulge now filling his trousers; a little uncomfortable, verging on the edge of being painful.
He sighed.
Claiming her soul like he had had been delicious, but his appetite wasn’t nearly sated.

Before him lay a feast he couldn’t wait to dig his claws and fangs in.

However, Raphael had a faint premonition that he wouldn’t be the only one enjoying that.

Chapter Text

Once she woke, Rhia’s body felt surprisingly good. No pain, not even a slight stinging from the ordeals she had been through.
For the first time since that worm had been planted behind her eye, she felt—comfortable.
And it was odd, very odd.

When her eyes fluttered open, her surroundings slowly drifted into focus.
There was a lot of red, different shades, but predominantly red.

Ugh— now I remember…

The devil had finally succeeded in claiming her soul. The tiefling grunted, burying her face into the soft pillow.
Good for him! That insufferable, arrogant, pompous—

“Thinking about me, aren’t you?” Raphael’s voice nearly jolted her off the mattress.

There he was. Sitting on a massive wingchair with a leather-bound tome in his clawed hands, observing the tiefling.
So far, so good... but what the flaming Hells was he wearing?
A dark red, silken dressing gown hugged his— imposing cambion form, making Rhia wonder what might be exposed should he uncross his muscular legs.

Don’t. Don’t even think about it! The sane part of her brain warned her.

“Had a good night’s rest, demon-child? The bedding is to die for, isn’t it? Selected it myself,” he said, his voice laced with an almost inconceivable purr.

Rhia’s body froze before she took another look at her surroundings. This wasn’t his room, was it?
Her eyes got stuck on the massive oil painting of the cambion hanging in front of the bed. His pose, his clothing; it was almost comically regal.
This is his bedroom, all right…

“You were so exhausted; unresponsive, really. Korilla didn’t return for quite a while because someone had decided to toss my crown into the Chionthar…” the growl was subtle, but it was there… as was the spark of anger in his eyes. “Thus, I had to take care of you myself,” he let out an overdramatic sigh, “The things I do for my assets…”

The tiefling raised her eyebrows and scoffed.
“You’re the incarnation of charity and kindness, aren’t you?” she grunted, sitting up in the bed and wrapping the covers around her tightly, stifling the shudder.

“Don’t forget humility. It’s one of my greatest strengths,” Raphael said, his signature half-smile appearing on his face.

The tiefling got up from the bed, letting out an annoyed grunt. At least Raphael had left her in her own torn-up clothes, for better or worse.
“You have the crown. Don’t you have work to do now? Reforge that tiara and put it on your head to rule over the Hells? So why don’t you get to it?”

Raphael was gone in a puff of crimson smoke, only to reappear right in front of her.
Rhia had been prepared for it but nearly stumbled over her feet as she backed away from him.
“We really have to work on that tone, little Hellcat,” he hissed, his infuriatingly intoxicating scent sending shivers down her spine.

“Do not dare use that name. Not after you—”

His clawed hand grabbed her chin in an instant.
“After I what? Saved your brother from eternal torment? Saved you, not once but twice, from certain death?”
Rhia furrowed her brows, staring up at him.

“Yes, you would have died from exhaustion after battling the Elderbrain and being stupid enough to use your last bit of magic against me. Hells. I’ve known pit fiends that weren’t as stubborn as you are.” He said, looming over her.

“You won’t be respectful? Fine by me, we’ll get there, one way or another,” his gaze turned darker as he spoke. “-- but at least show some bloody gratitude!”

She tore herself from him, stepping away. “You used my brother to get me to pledge my soul to you. I’ll spend the rest of my life and eternity after that in the Hells. Ever thought I might have preferred a quick death over that?”

The cambion’s expression became serious. “It doesn’t have to be this way, you know.”

“What?”

“You’ll have your freedoms if you prove a valuable and loyal asset,” his smile turned impish, “And I just know you have it in you.”

“That still means I’ll end up in some fiery pit once I’m dead!”

“Not on my watch, you won’t,” the devil said, stepping towards her. “I have enough to do for you for the rest of eternity, little Hellcat.”

The way he used that name...

Bloody, blazing Hells!

Could he not have worn something different for this? Something that didn’t expose a large part of his chest, his abdominal muscles, his—

Oh. My—

“You might not believe it now, but I’m looking after my subjects. Especially one as precious as yourself.”

His claws found their way to the burn marks on her arms. The one he had provided her with.

“Well, I’m having a really hard time believing that,” Rhia retorted, unable to move an inch.

Her feet felt as though they were petrified to the spot; her breath was getting shallower by the second.
Raphael’s fingers ran over the scars, his touch soft despite his claws.

W-what’s happening? Rhia stammered in her mind, trying to get a grasp of the situation and how she got into it.... and why the fuck she was into it!

Raphael fixed her with his eyes, his gaze burning through her soul.
“I wanted to make you mine the moment I brought you here, back when your brain was worm-food but your mind sharp as a knife.”

When Rhia felt her back bump against the wooden bedpost, she drew in a sharp breath. The cambion towered before her, his crimson wings spread, his tail swaying playfully from side to side, twitching like a cat’s tail when it’s ready to pounce on its prey.
The tiefling was that prey.

She should be terrified, appalled even.
The why in the Nine Hells was her skin on fire, her breath quickening: her whole body awaiting his touch?
After everything he had done? After all his schemes and manipulations that had brought her to this point...

This point is the edge of the devil’s bed.
“Raphael, no—” she wanted to scold him, but her voice was merely a hoarse croak.

Rhia felt the chuckle vibrate through his chest as he pressed his body against hers. “Your tongue can deny it all you want, but the rest of your body speaks volumes.”

“N—”

The cambion put his finger on her mouth, shushing her, while his other hand travelled to the small of her back. Damn if his touch wasn’t addictive.

“Pupils spread wide, cheeks redder than the fires of Avernus... Did you know that your voice hitches every time I say your name?” he whispered, running his claw down her neck. “Your pulse quickens under my touch. You’re craving for this just as much as I am.”

She swallowed hard, willing her heart to leave her pulsating throat.
He’s the devil.
Do. Not. Give. In!

“Why deny yourself the pleasure? Why torment yourself when you could have everything by my side? All you need to do is say yes.”

Rhia tried pushing back only to realise that there was no more room to escape to. “Better a little torment now than an eternity of torment in the Flames of the Hells...” she managed to press over her lips.

“I’d never allow that.” The devil smirked down at her.

She wanted to believe him. Truly and wholeheartedly. It would make things a lot easier.
But one infernal law never changed.
Never trust a devil. Especially not after he gets what he wants.

A thought popped up in Rhia’s mind. A dangerous spark that could seal her fate and spell her doom.
However, it could also give her back some control over this… peculiar relationship they were building.

Rhia looked up into his fiery eyes. Despite his obvious cravings, he hadn’t gone too far— ignoring the scars he had given her, of course.
Somehow, a part of that devil needed her to consent to this. A surprise but a welcome one.
This had to count for something, yes?

“Promise?” she asked him, fixing him with her eyes.

“Want me to set up another contract? It wouldn’t be unusual…” he teased, his hand now entangled in her hair.

Rhia bit her lip. “I’ll take your word for it,” she whispered. “The promise of the future Lord of the Nine has to count for something, yes?”

A low growl left Raphael’s lips as he bent down towards her, his face now inches in front of hers. “I do like the sound of that title. Especially coming from your lips.”

Rhia couldn’t suppress the smirk even if she wanted to. This was easier than she had assumed. Her eyes wandered to his lips.
The hardest thing about it would be keeping a clear head, and she could already feel the daze of desire clouding her judgment.

“You said I needed to show some gratitude. Tell me how, my Lord,” she purred, her hands resting on his chest.

Raphael licked his lips. He had hoped things would go this way but never dared to assume anything. Not with that Hellcat in front of him.
“You know exactly how to do that, you little tease,” he told her, pulling her towards him and making her feel the hard evidence of his lust for her.

He noticed her hesitate for a moment, contemplating something. He could just read her mind, but it was far more fun this way.
When Raphael was about to say something, her lips were pressed against his instantly.
The tiefling’s mouth granted his searching tongue the attention it was owed, his lips the reverence they needed.
The kiss was longing, speaking of the pent-up desire she had held back so far.
It sent a bolt through the cambion’s chest and made his body respond instantly.
Raphael felt his claws dig into her back as he pulled her closer, embracing her as tightly as he could without breaking her fragile mortal shell.
A stifled moan left her lips as he allowed her to come up for air.
“R-Raphael…” she breathed, licking her lips.

He brought his thumb up to her mouth, slowly dipping the tip inside.

“Those skilful lips… could work perfectly somewhere else, don’t you think?” he said, letting his gaze drop down to the hard bulge tenting his dressing gown. “That would be an appropriate way to say, ‘Thank you for saving my sweet ass, my Lord,’” he added, giving her bottom a firm squeeze.

The cambion saw the sly smirk curling at the corner of her lips, and he bloody loved it.

“You mean here?” she breathed before starting to suck on his thumb needily, not minding the sharp claw within her mouth.

Raphael grunted, his erection now verging on pain while he watched her plump mouth… pleasuring his thumb.
“On your knees and say your thanks, sapil,” he ordered pushing her down while making his clothing disappear into thin smoke.

Her blazing green eyes were taking in his naked figure, and he enjoyed what he saw in them.
Finally. Unmasked desire.
Still, the little Hellcat was torn, somehow. She wanted this, but at the same time—

Before he could say anything, her hands found the base of his cock, her tongue its tip.
Raphael’s hands grabbed her shoulders as her lips slowly enveloped his hardness, all while not breaking eye contact with him.

Hells… he could kill for that fucking look.

She went slow at first, teasing him with her tongue and lips. Her touch felt like a silent prayer, preparing him for the sin she was about to commit in his name.
And here, the devil had thought he couldn’t be more attracted to her.

Then, she took him deep, not uttering a sound of complaint as Raphael started setting the pace. He wasn’t gentle. There was no need to be gentle with her; somehow, he already knew that.

The devil felt her hands get a hold of his, pulling them away from her head and behind his back while keeping the rhythm he had set.

Blazing Hells, the sounds she made! Gagging, grunting, growling, but continuing to pleasure him like the good little subject she was.
Raphael had been with quite a few lovers in his life. Some of them – Haarlep – being more proficient than her, but still…
What she did to him, what she made him feel right this very moment by giving herself to him in this way…

A warm and unknown feeling was spreading in his chest as he looked down at her.

He was so close to filling her mouth with his seed. His body was trembling in anticipation of the looming orgasm she had brought him to.

That lovely little creature.

He knew he had promised her some freedom to leave the Hells, but frankly, why should he let her leave when he could have her here in his bedroom and at his beck and call whenever desire hit him?

His own personal sex sla—

Her lips left his craving cock out in the open as she pulled away from him.

“What are you--?” he began, his voice almost giving out.

The cambion tried moving, but somehow, his feet were stuck to the ground, his hands—tied behind his back by magic.
Raphael was too stumped to react. The haze of the built-up orgasm still had a hold on his mind.

The tiefling stood up, pulling his face down towards her. “Thank you for saving me, my Lord,” she said, teasingly clapping her hand against his cheek.
“Just say the word whenever you need anything else. Right now, I’ll go talk to my brother. Long time no see, you know.”

“What the blazing Hells do you think you’re doing?!” Raphael spat out as he finally caught his breath.

Rhia shrugged her shoulders.
Shrugged. Her. Shoulders. At him!

“Exactly what you told me to, my Lord,” she imparted with a wink. “Maybe be more precise next time.”

Raphael was now trashing against the iridescent shackles she had put on him, in vain.

“Don’t bother breaking them. They’re supposed to withstand infernal fire. I’ll send Korilla here once I find her. Hang tight!” she threw over her shoulder before closing the door behind her.

For once in his life, the devil was speechless. For about a moment until his screams of anger and ruined desire left his throat.

Once Raphael’s senses were his own again, he started laughing; a hysterical laugh resounded from his bedroom’s walls.

That little brat wanted to play with fire?
Two could play that game, and he would gladly indulge her… then indulge in her.

That look in her eyes, that smirk on her lips…
The cambion knew she would be his one day. Not only her soul but the rest of her, too.

First, her body. Then, her heart.
All in due time. Eternity wasn’t ending tomorrow.

Her heart was drumming within her chest as Rhia hurried through the corridors. His taste was still on her tongue, his smell still on her skin, when the devil’s infernal screams reached her ears.
Rhia flinched, dashing around the corner and bumping into his warlock.

“Rhia what--?” Korilla began, narrowing her eyes at her. “Your doing, I take it?” she gestured towards the origin of the screams.

“He might need a hand…” Rhia replied, suppressing a smile.

The dwarf let out a huff. “You’re going to stir things up around here, aren’t you? Do you think it’s wise, angering the devil you’re bound to?”

Rhia shook her head. “It’s anything but wise. But I refuse to just… lay down and accept things as they are. Don’t worry, I’m a big girl.”

“Oh, I don’t worry about you… Raphael will lash out at all of us if you leave him in such a mood constantly.”

“Well, it’s his own fault, really. If he would have been a little nicer about it—”
I might have even let him finish-- more than once. She thought, fighting the tingling feeling spreading through her stomach.

The dwarf ran her hand through her hair in defeat. “If you hadn’t noticed. He is a devil for crying out loud. Being nice is not in his nature!”

“Oh, but he can be nice if he wants something,” Rhia retorted, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“You’re beyond salvation, big girl.” The warlock sighed, shaking her head. “I’ll go help the Master now. Maybe the crown being reforged will put him in a better mood. Still, you might want to swing by my room later. I have some potions and remedies that could help you with the… consequences of your actions.”

With that, Korilla disappeared around the corner, leaving Rhia to her tangled thoughts.

Change was going to come to the Hells. Whether they were ready or not.
And whether she was ready or not that devil would surely come and try to take what she denied him so far.

Chapter Text

Finding Tyas hadn’t been as hard as Rhia thought it would be in the maze that was the devil’s home.
The souls bound to this place were surprisingly helpful, even if most weren’t quite in their right mind.
Her most peculiar encounter was with the acrobat, who solely used his hands to walk around the place and his feet to indicate the direction she was supposed to go, all while ending each of his sentences with a loud “Huzza!”
The Hells did that to some people…

Her brother looked up from his bowl of soup as she entered the kitchen. Of course, she would find him in the immediate vicinity of food; some things never changed.
Once Tyas noticed her, he instantly dropped the spoon and sprinted towards her, scooping her into his arms.
“Where the blazes have you been? The screams… I feared the worst!” He exclaimed as he let go of her.

“I’m fine. Let’s not talk about me. You just came back from the dead,” she narrowed her eyes at him, punching his shoulder, “You were dead, you idiot!!”

Tyas shrugged his shoulders. “And now I’m not.”

Rhia punched him again for good measure. “No, now you’re bound to a devil, one of the more nefarious ones at that. You could have been free, you bloody uvuaz!”

“And leave you alone at the hands of that monster? Not going to happen, sis!” Tyas grunted, rubbing his shoulder.

Monster…
Even a monster could be attractive and a good kisser. That didn’t make it less monstrous – at least it shouldn’t.

“Do you have any idea what he will ask of us?” Rhia looked around the empty kitchen but lowered her voice nonetheless. “He’s got the Crown of Karsus. Yes, the Karsus from Karsus’s Folly, destruction of the Netherese Empire and death of all magic. With the crown, Raphael can wield magic but remain independent from the Weave. It’s a recipe for disaster!”

Tyas’ expression turned serious. “What does he plan to do with it? Take over the Hells?”

“For starters. But don’t think for a second that his ambitions will end there.” Rhia replied, opening the cupboards.
There had to be something to drown her sorrows around here, right? The Hells were no place to endure sober.

“Bottom right. Some rum and a few bottles of red,” Tyas said. “I’ll take one, too.”

Rhia set the wine in front of Tyas before downing the burning shot of rum in one go. It tasted horrible, but at least it took the taste of devil with it.

“So… what are we going to do about it?” Tyas inquired, sipping on his wine.

The tiefling scoffed. “Do about it? About the devil with the powerful artefact? The one we both are bound to for the rest of bloody eternity? Let me think…” She shook her head, filling her cup.

“So… nothing?” her brother inquired, grimacing.

“Oh, no, no… not nothing. We’re going to serve him and empower him to reach his goals. Hells first, Toril second, then… Divinity? The possibilities are endless.”

Rhia chuckled, feeling the alcohol do its work within her body.
Finally! Blissful numbness.

Tyas’ look bore through her like—
No, let’s not go there.

“What did he make you do?” Her brother asked, his voice a whisper.

Nothing I didn’t want to do myself.
“Nothing bad,” she replied. So far... “In contrast to making you chop off the hand of one of my closest friends,” she grimaced, wishing that Gale was alive and well after his ordeals.

“You’re having friends now? How... novel!” Tyas teased, downing his drink. “Now, back to more serious matters. What do we do?”

Rhia sighed, leaning against the table. “I was serious when I told you. There is literally nothing we can do about it. And honestly--” she paused, biting the rim of her cup. “—honestly, I think the Hells could benefit from a change in leadership.”

Tyas’ eyes widened in terror. “Are you mental?? Saying something like this aloud in the Nine? Asmodeus has eyes and ears everywhere!”

“Calm down. Raphael is a lot of things, but being stupid isn’t one of them. This might be one of the safest places to talk conspiracy.”

“Did I hear ‘conspiracy’?” A deep voice made her jump.

“Who the—” Tyas began, unsheathing his sword.

Raphael’s young likeliness watched them intently as he sat on the table, his bare legs casually dangling over the edge.
“Haarlep!” Rhia exclaimed after the previous moment of shock passed.

“The one and only.”
His smile was impish, infectious...
The devil glanced at Tyas, the slight change in his expression almost inconceivable. He bowed his head, and the most charming smile spread across his face.

“So, this must be the fierce Hellhound I’ve heard so much about! The similarity between you two is striking!”

Rhia could sense her brother’s discomfort as he furrowed his brows at Haarlep.
“Uhm... Rhia?”

She sighed. “This is Raphael’s little man-whor— his incubus,” she corrected.

“Tsk, not just his... if you’re of a mind...” The devil grinned from ear to ear, not trying to hide his desires.

“Haarlep, behave!”

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” The incubus groaned. “Besides, you are in no position to moralise anyone, little minx.” His eyes now fixed on her.
“Tell me. What went through your cute little mind when you embarrassed the devil of the house? What do you think he’ll do to you once he gets his claws on you? And how much do you think it will hurt?”

“I can handle it,” she quipped, sipping her wine.

Haarlep scoffed before taking her goblet and downing the drink. “You might know pain, but you have no idea what that devil can dish out. He’ll slice you up, making you watch as he peels the skin off your very bones. All while revelling in your wails and screams of agony.”

Rhia sighed, grabbing the bottle of wine and taking a swig.
If Haarlep was to be believed, she should be frightened; Rhia damned well knew that herself. A devil’s cruelty knew no bounds.
Yet somehow, she wasn’t scared.
What’s done is done…
“At least I’ll be rid of him then.”

“Like Hell, you will. You’re bound to him even after your death. Forgot about that part? What’s the point of claiming a soul if not for eternity?” Haarlep asked, snatching the bottle out of her hands.

“Get your own, wencher!” She hissed, glaring at him.

The incubus took a swig before handing it back to her. “I like you; you’ve got sass, so take my advice, little Hellcat. Do not antagonise Raphael. Just look what he did to you while you weren’t bound to him!” Haarlep gestured to her scarred arms. “You don’t want to imagine what he’ll do now if his prized possession doesn’t bend to his will.”

“I don’t just want to—bow to him,” Rhia said, watching the incubus through knitted brows.

Not without making him go out of his way to earn it, and definitely not without putting up a fight… at least a little one.
Images of the cambion’s imposing figure invaded her mind, uncalled for, yet far from unwanted.

“Why not? I think you’d look good on your knees,” the incubus purred, a lustful glint in his eyes. “Laid bare before the Master, doing his bidding and—” Haarlep stepped closer, “—enjoying the fact that it’s you who gives him the pleasure he so desperately craves.”

“All right… I think I’ve heard enough for my comfort,” Tyas interjected, grimacing.
Rhia had all but forgotten that her brother was right there with them.

Haarlep turned his attention back to Tyas. “Oh beautiful, you’ll realise that you’ll have to leave your comfort zone quite a lot since you’re both part of the family now…” he chuckled, draping an arm over either one of their shoulders. “Welcome home, darlings.”

“Hand off before it comes off, devil!” Tyas snarled.

Haarlep chuckled once more despite the edge in her brother’s voice. “That must be your signature move, yes? Sweet Hells, if the two of you aren’t all teeth and claws… I must say I cannot wait to see you both in action. The tales of your exploits have travelled Avernus for quite a while. There are songs about your time in the Blood Wars!”

Rhia shrugged him off, but the alcohol didn’t allow her to suppress the drunken grin. “Haarlep, stop.”

The incubus cleared his throat before summoning a lute into his hands.

“Gods... please stop!” Tyas groaned, downing a shot of rum while the incubus continued humming his song.

Rhia’s skin was burning up. That didn’t sound quite right.

“You’re past singing about our prowess on the battlefield?” Tyas groaned.

“Long past...” Haarlep said, continuing to hum to the music of his lute.

Rhia grinned to herself, drinking her wine in silence while watching the incubus pluck the strings of his lute and her brother getting more flustered with every note he played.
They were back in the Hells now. For good this time. But damn if she wouldn’t try to make the best out of it.

The tiefling blinked as the picture in front of her changed.
Ugh, enough with the wine… she groaned in her mind as her inebriated brain began to see double.

Two Haarleps. One was young and joyful, and the other a little older and menacing, staring at her as though she had done something really, really stupid.
Oh, blazing…

Rhia cast the spell and was about to dash to the door when she noticed her summoning was a frog now sitting on Raphael’s head and not the dog she had intended to sic on him.

Dog, frog… casting magic drunk had never been her forte.

The cambion reappeared right in front of her, barring her way forward. “You’re drunk.” He stated, his voice making her skin crawl.

“Don’t lay a hand on my sister!” Tyas hissed, rushing to her side as Haarlep stopped playing.

Raphael grunted. “Don’t worry, I’ll use both hands with this one.”
He narrowed his fiery eyes at her.
“Haarlep, why don’t you entertain our new Hellhound a little? I require him later, so don’t wear him out too much, yes?”

“I won’t—” Tyas began, reaching for his sword, making Raphael snap his head towards him.

“You’re not making this easier on either of you,” the devil warned, adding. “No need to worry. I won’t hurt her… much.”

After a moment of obviously toying with the idea of engaging the cambion in battle, Tyas grudgingly followed Haarlep out of the kitchen.

Raphael glared at her in silence, the summoned frog having hopped off from his head and sitting on his shoulder, croaking inquisitively.
With a quick wave of her hand, Rhia dismissed her summon, grimacing.

“Good gods, would you look at the time! I better clean this up quickly, so—” the tiefling began, stepping back and reaching for the empty bottles scattered across the table.

In one quick movement, Raphael grabbed her hands, pinning them down on the table as he lowered his mouth to her ear from behind.
“I already knew you were reckless, but I didn’t know you were so intent on suffering,” he growled, his claws digging into her hands.
The pain helped her sober up if only a little.

“I just did what you—”

A deep rumble went through his chest as he turned her towards him forcefully. “You twisted my words, little brat. And nothing goes unpunished in this house.”

Rhia felt the heat creep up her neck and into her cheeks.
His dominant touch, the feral growl in his voice… That voice alone was spelling doom every time that devil spoke, but like this…
Hells, how she just wanted to give herself to him, to just fuck that devil out of her system.
The alcohol in her veins didn’t help.
Not in the slightest.

Rhia drew a sharp breath, willing her heart to beat slower as it threatened to burst out of her chest.

The devil pushed her up the table, spreading her legs apart to close the gap between them. “Do you realise how bloody lucky you are, little Hellcat? I could flay you alive, but somehow, I can’t. Somehow, I want you to be able to take pleasure in the pain and punishment you deserve…” he said, running his claw down her cheek and to her neck.

He chuckled at her struggles to keep a straight face as his hands found the fastenings of her robes. “And it’s such a pleasure to watch you tormenting yourself by trying to resist me. Seeing your willpower slowly crumble like sand at my touch…”

She pressed her eyes shut when Raphael dragged his teeth along her jaw and to her ear. “Tell me, why are you still trying to resist me? And don’t bother lying… I can easily take a look inside your mind.”

Rhia licked her lips as his hot breath touched her neck. “You’re a devil. N-never give in to a devil…”

His laughter vibrated through his chest as he pulled her closer. “I’m not just any devil now, am I? Say it. Who am I? To you, my little Hellcat?”

Gods, goddesses… any entity willing to listen just- just shut your ears now, will you?

“My Master,” Rhia whispered, drawing in a sharp breath when he pressed his lips on hers in agreement.
His sharp teeth dragged at her lips, drawing blood as his clawed hands roamed her body possessively.

“Good girl… maybe there’s some hope left for you after all,” he praised as their surroundings changed. “Still, don’t think for a second that this will get you out of your punishment. Off with those robes now.”
“I don’t like to see my possession wearing rags. I’ll tell Haarlep to pick something out for you to look presentable.”

Possession... was this all she was now? The plaything of a Devil?
To say that did something to her was putting it mildly.
Rhia’s skin tingled in anticipation as she watched him, her fingers tugging at the edges of her robes. The look in his eyes told her that he was still not over what she had done to him back in this room mere hours ago. The spark of fury was still evident.
Don’t antagonise Raphael... Haarlep’s words went through her mind.
But she enjoyed antagonising him just for that look alone. That look made her into a squirming puddle of herself.

Raphael tilted her face towards him. “Still hesitating? You do realise that this just gives me more time to think about your punishment...”

Her tongue flicked over her lips once more. Why did her mouth feel so damned dry? Rhia exhaled, letting the robe slip off her bare shoulders and to the ground.
She felt her tail twitch as he took in her features, running his fingers over his lips in thought.

His eyes flickered to her undergarments. “I’m waiting,” he said.
A delicious warning.

Hells... she was going to burn up, for sure...
When was the last time she had been naked in front of anybody? Not counting that last encounter with Haarlep.
Her hands worked on their own, removing her corselet first before she slipped out of her undergarments. The ones that had already been drenched with her arousal.
The devil watched her - no - studied her in silence before he put his hands on her shoulders, slowly running them downwards.
Raphael stopped his downward journey occasionally at a scar or an old bruise, a contemplating gaze on his face.
It felt like an inspection, and Rhia didn’t know if she passed or failed.

“You need to take better care of your body from now on, and that’s an order,” Raphael stated, his hands resting on her waist.

“What?”

“These scars and bruises… are plain evidence of your recklessness,” his touch became rough, his claws digging into her flesh. “From now on, the only markings on your body will be made by me. Clear?” he concluded, his tone low and menacing.

“Y-yes,” Rhia stammered, her body responding with a shiver.

Raphael grabbed her chin harshly. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Master,” the tiefling brought over her lips.

The cambion’s lips were pressed on hers, and Rhia could feel his half-smile as he kissed her. There was nothing gentle about his kisses. Nothing loving. They were rough, harsh, and demanding.
Fitting, really.

“Open up,” he commanded, his hand dropping between her legs.

Her body complied, and his claw scratched his way along the insides of her thighs instantly.

“So, you can be reasonable—oh my…” Raphael purred as he ran his fingers over the wetness between her legs. “The proud brat is but a puddle of herself, tsk tsk… I expected more from you, but you’re just as needy as I want you to be, pet.”

Rhia bit her lip as he ran his sharp claws over the little knot of nerves buried within her craving wetness.
She steadied herself against him, sighing as he continued to work on her.

“If you think this will get you out of your punishment, you’re mistaken,” he growled, biting into her earlobe before turning her around and pushing her face-down, ass-up on the bed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him summoning something into his hands, something that closely resembled a riding crop.

“You’ll get five heartfelt hits, and I want five heartfelt apologies. Fail to do it satisfactorily and you won’t be able to sit for a week. Clear?”

It was neither novel nor creative, but it was effective.
Action and reaction.
Her taunting defiance, his swift punishment.

This time, she didn’t antagonise him; this time, she didn’t twist his words.

But why?

Was a crop and a few domineering words all it took to bring her into submission?
Or was it the fact that it was him holding the crop and uttering those words that made her relent to him?
Him, the devil she had wanted to taunt into doing this to her since he had brought her back into the Hells.
Him, the devil who was owning her soul and now her body, too?

When the final hit landed on her ass, Rhia suppressed a whimper, apologising to him for her past transgressions.
Her cheeks were burning in embarrassment. Laid bare in front of him, humiliated, put in her place.
Part of her wanted to tease him, utter the ‘Was this all you got?’ that was itching on the tip of her tongue.

“Anything to add, pet?” he asked.

Silence. Embarrassed silence.

She saw the cocky smirk on his lips when she looked at him over her shoulder.
“Perfect,” Raphael stated, undressing himself, his eyes burning with lust.

He grabbed her by her hair, pulling her face upwards. “I’ll be taking what I’m owed now. Any objections, little Hellcat?” he hissed, spreading her legs apart and positioning himself behind her.

“No, Master,” Rhia breathed, her insides tingling in anticipation.

“Tell me how much you want this, how much you fucking need this, Rhia,” he growled into her ear, running his cock along the insides of her thighs.
He was hard, hot… hissing Hells; she needed it.

“Please, I want this— I want you, Master.”

“Hells... you’re so desperate for this. To give your perfect body to the devil... commit the most delicious sin.”

His breath hitched, as did hers, when he finally pushed his cock inside.
Rhia clutched the sheets at the first bolt of pain shooting through her insides as he pushed his way forward.

Not gently but at least slowly... as though he was savouring every inch he claimed of her.

Gods....

The devil was bigger than the mortals she had been with so far but not too big to make this unpleasant; on the contrary.

The tiefling’s tail curled itself around her waist as he started thrusting, filling her up and driving the air out of her lungs in the process.
Raphael grunted behind her, his claws digging into her waist as he took pleasure in her flesh.
Selfishly taking as only a devil could.

“You can struggle all you want, but this is where you belong in the end. Tamed into submission... my pet.”

One of his hands found its way to her breasts, giving them a harsh squeeze, running his fingers over her hardened peaks, pinching them, pulling at them… making her moan in pleasurable pain.

“You were made for this, after all, made to serve. Your body craves for its intended purpose, to belong to its infernal Master.”

Rhia hissed in defiance as he continued pounding into her.
Taking, taking, taking.
Keeping her on the edge of fulfilling pleasure but not allowing her the friction that would make her leap over that edge.

“Raphael...” she snarled, pushing against him, trying to change the angle as he held her down.

His laughter was deep, malicious.
“You think I’ll let you come? After that foolish, foolish thing you did earlier? Cute, really.”

Rhia felt her magic sizzle through her veins, rearing its head, trying to rebel against him.

Raphael thrust deeper, leaning down towards her ear. “Keep your magic down, or I will truly make you regret it, little Hellcat,” he hissed, biting into her neck and making her yelp in pain. “That’ll leave a nice mark… Hells—”

She could feel his body tensing; his thrusts were getting ragged, as was his breath.
Hotness filled her up instantly as the devil released his seed inside her, his weight pushing her into the mattress, keeping her in place.

She was close, so fucking close.
Her face was buried into the bedding, her hands clutching the covers tightly as the cambion stopped his movements.
The wave of releasing ecstasy ebbed away, leaving her with an unbearable sensation of want.

Raphael must have sensed her frustration as he pulled her face towards him, his now softening cock still inside her. “That’s on you, foolish kitten. Next time, you’ll know how to behave, yes?”
He pulled out of her, his warm seed wetting the insides of her thighs.
The realisation struck her like a bolt of ice.
She lay with the devil, mated with the bloody devil. That in itself was bad; having his seed inside her, however, could end up being far worse.

Raphael sighed, lying on the bed, looking at her as she remained unmoving.
As he watched her, she could sense his presence penetrating her mind. What’s wrong? His resonant voice went through her head.

What isn’t?

There was a flicker of something soft in the cambion’s eyes, but it could also just be wishful thinking on her part.

“Stop worrying about… that. Korilla will whip you something up in no time, unless…” he raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no,” Rhia blurted out and started dressing herself hastily.

Raphael continued to watch her, looking utterly pleased with himself.
“What? Not staying for a cuddle, kitten?” He teased, patting the bedding invitingly.

The tiefling huffed in annoyance as she fastened her robes. “Only if you want my fist to cuddle your chin… hard.”

“Ahhh… there’s my little Hellcat. Bent but not broken. Fine. Hurry along and wash up, put on something nice and head to Korilla. Afterwards, I need your brother and you. Your skills will come in most handy for the task I have in mind for the two of you,” Raphael said, his lips curling into his typical half-smile.

What in the Nine—
“Raphael, no! We’re not going there! There are boundaries!” Rhia exclaimed, shaking her head vehemently.

“Blazing Hells—get your mind out of the gutter, sapil! I need your skills on the battlefield,” he said. “Tsk, mortals and their naughty minds. No wonder you ended up in the Hells.”

Rhia groaned, rolling her eyes as she closed the door behind her and pushing the tingling feeling inside her away.

Yeah… no wonder…

Chapter Text

The two siblings had been sitting across each other in the dining hall in awkward silence for a while now.
After Rhia had found Korilla, the dwarf gave her a potion with strict instructions to take a swig daily.
’ Unless you want real problems ten months from now.’ The dwarf had said, whilst shaking her head.
When Rhia had asked her for how long she should drink that potion, Korilla merely shrugged her shoulders and told her that Rhia was a big girl who damned well knew what the consequences were and left to fetch her Master.
Cold-blooded... One had to be like this when working for a devil with so much fervour as the dwarf did.

Now, back to Tyas.
Tyas, who was unable to look her into the eyes.
Tyas, who fidgeted with the fastenings of his bracers as if his life depended on it.
Tyas, who she had caught neck-deep in... incubus.
She shook herself. It hadn’t been a position anyone should ever see their kin in.

“You have no idea how long it’s been...” he muttered, barely intelligible.

Rhia chewed her bottom lip in discomfort.
Well, she was definitely in no position to moralise anyone... Haarlep had been right about that.

“Let’s... just not talk about this, yes? Not ever,” she said decisively.

Tyas eyes found hers. “So, you and Raphael--”

“Not. Ever. Yes?”

“At least take care not to get--”

“Tyas!”

“Fine, fine!” He exclaimed, raising his hands defensively.

By the look on his face, Rhia could tell that he wanted to say something else, but she silenced him with her gaze.
Good thing, too, for that instant, the devil himself strode into the hall with Korilla and a bookish-looking male tiefling at his heels.

“Shared some juicy secrets, my dears? I know that look…” Raphael purred, his posture poised, his smile complacent.

Rhia crossed her arms in front of her chest, huffing in annoyance.

“Mhm… somebody’s still on edge—” the cambion remarked, holding her stare. Use that fire for the upcoming task. He added in her mind.

Raphael nodded towards the male tiefling next to him. “Fill them in on the details.”

“Name’s Ebros; I’m in charge of the Master’s treasury; his archivist, if you will,” the tiefling began producing a scroll. “You already heard that the Crown of Karsus has been reforged, yes? No small feat, but considering the Master’s vast resources, there has never been a doubt about it.”

Another bootlicker… Rhia rolled her eyes. Was anyone in this household not intent on singing the devil’s praise?

Focus, Hellcat! Raphael warned, his look scolding. Or I’ll make you sing soon enough.

With a silent grunt, she turned her attention to the scroll now rolled out on the table, depicting a detailed drawing of the Crown, some sort of energised ball, and something closely resembling a gnarled staff.

“You might already know that the Crown is part of a set. The Regalia of Karsus, containing the Crown, the Orb of Karsus and his scepter. The Orb is out of our reach, which is a blessing, truly. It was a contributing factor to Karsus’ demise… not that that could ever happen to you, my Master.” Ebros added with a quick look at the cambion.

Now it was Raphael’s turn to look annoyed as he waved at the tiefling to continue.

“The sceptre, however, has its uses. It’s a focusing instrument for the precise wielding of unimaginably powerful forces. It’s housed at Zariel’s citadel at the moment—”

“And not a moment longer because the two of you will get it for me,” Raphael interrupted.

Of course… get into the lair of the most brutal archdevil. No problem! We’ll be back before dinner.

“Need us to do the dirty work for you, Master?” Rhia chuckled, enjoying the look on the cambion’s face.
There was just something about the way her remarks made his eyebrows twitch that wouldn’t allow her to not annoy him.

“The two of you have been part of Zariel’s forces. You’re one of the few people who know their way around her citadel--” the archivist explained.

“Yet I’ve never seen or heard about this sceptre being in her possession. Are you sure it’s there?” Tyas asked.

The archivist looked as if Tyas had just insulted him, his mother and every last one of his ancestors.

“How dare you? You’re nothing but a grunt. If your betters tell you to do something--”

“Quiet!” Raphael barked, making them fall into complete silence. “You have your task. The citadel will be all but deserted. My forces will make sure that Zariel is occupied on the battlefield.”

Rhia held his gaze. “Zariel won’t just leave her citadel defenceless. She might be more brawn than brains, but that place is—” she shuddered, “—her sanctuary, a bloody fortress! Its walls are manned by hundreds of devils, protected by high turrets… There are gouts of flame that burst from the ground all around the fortress, smoke that clouds your vision for miles! We are but two mortals.”

That devil must have forgotten that tiny fact. Otherwise, he wouldn’t send them to their slaughter…
Or would he?

Raphael had remained quiet during her explanation, his expression unchanged when he spoke.
“I’m getting you inside safe and sound, and I’ll get you out just as well,” the cambion said, gesturing them towards him. “Come here and receive my hellish blessing, disciples.”

Rhia and Tyas exchanged a look, grimacing. “What?”

“Move it!” Korilla grunted, pushing them out of their chairs and towards Raphael.

The cambion grabbed one of their hands, the sudden wave of heat driving the air out of her lungs instantly.
“Do not resist it; it’s for your protection,” he told them, almost softly, as they both struggled against his grip.

Was protection supposed to burn like hellfire? Damn…
Rhia pulled her hand away quickly as soon as he let go of her. An infernal mark was now adorning the inside of her palm.
Wiltzfirh… sanctuary.

“Done and good to go. Now get me that sceptre; the rest will be light as sulfur,” he imparted with a wink.

Tyas let out a long breath, grabbing his longsword. “I’d prefer it to be easy as pie, but well… when in the Hells…”

When they were about to leave, Raphael pulled Rhia back by the shoulder. “A moment, little Hellcat.”

Rhia groaned. “Got another blessing for me, devil?”

“Start working on that tone, or you’ll have a tough time down here with me.”
His clawed hand grabbed her by the back of her neck harshly, pulling her closer.

“About your task. You get in, get the sceptre, get out and come back here instantly. Do not engage in any fights that might lead to your untimely demise. The blessing helps, but its power has its limits… so far at least.”

Rhia tried to read the look on the cambion’s face. Had there been a flicker of worry?
Impossible.

“We’ll get you your precious sceptre, Master. Just try to remember who empowered you once you’re on top of the Nine,” she retorted.

Raphael’s voice dropped down an octave as he spoke. “Hmmm… is someone afraid I’ll grow tired of her once I fulfil my ambitions?”
He ran his index finger along her jawline, tilting her chin upwards.

“Why--” she began reading his gaze, which was telling her: ‘Lying, really? To me?’.

Ugh... insufferable!!

“What do you say, pet? Once Avernus is mine, you and I will have a little celebration just between the two of us. I’d love to hear you sing my praises in your sweet bedroom voice.”

The heat flushed her cheeks hard, making the devil smirk in response.
The effect he was having on her was embarrassing, truly.

“Now, how about a kiss to say thank you for giving you that infernal blessing and thus my caring protection?”

Rhia tilted her head, holding his gaze before she pulled him down by the collar of his shirt and pressed her lips against his right cheek.

“Thank you for your boundless generosity.

He nodded, clearly not satisfied with the way she interpreted his words.

“I see… and what about a kiss for good luck? Before I whip Avernus into submission?”

Rhia thought about it for a moment before pulling him down again, planting a kiss on his left cheek, “Good luck, devil-man,” she whispered, pulling away from him.

The cambion raised a warning eyebrow. “Third time’s the charm, sapil. Because you just hate that you love me,” he said, tipping his claw against his lips temptingly.

You wish…

Rhia stepped away, her lips curling into a sly smile, before she grabbed some of the potions Korilla had left on the table. “You mean, because I love that I hate you, vyiud. See you soon, and give my regards to Zariel. Do try to aim for her head; devils don’t have a heart.” She said before exiting the chambers in a hurry.

He didn’t need to hear how hard her heart was drumming against her chest. Oh no… that would only increase his smugness.
Nobody needed that.

Raphael had kept his word. Getting into the archdevil’s citadel had been a walk in the park, only that the park was on fire, and everything was on fire because you were literally in Hell.

Korilla had provided Tyas and her with some very convincing disguises, and not one of the few guards they met was paying them any attention.
Rhia noticed that the mood was quite tense. There was talk about a battle. Not the constant Blood Wars this time but another battle, one for the throne of Avernus.
Change was coming to the Hells, and even the lowest devil and enslaved soul could feel it.

When Rhia said that she never wanted to set foot in the Hells again, what she truly meant was that she didn’t want to set foot in Zariel’s citadel again.
This place was… Hell within the Hells.

She shook herself and remained close to Tyas as they made their way through the vast corridors.
Pictures of burning people adorned each and every wall while their captured cries rang through the halls incessantly.
Damned Zariel just loved those pictures just as much as she loved torturing her subjects by making them watch their loved ones being burned alive.

Yes, the Hells desperately needed a change in leadership, even though this would only mean changing one devil for another.

‘What’s better than a devil you don’t know?’ Raphael’s words went through her mind as they continued their search for Zariel’s treasury.

A devil you do… repeatedly.

Rhia shook her head, willing her mind to focus. They were walking amongst enemies. Focus meant survival.

“Sis… you alright?” Tyas whispered, shooting her a sideways glance.

“I’m fine, it’s just—” She stopped him, gesturing at the massive metallic doors at the end of the corridor. “That… that must be it, the treasury.”

Tyas nodded, pulling her into an alcove. “And that must be— Gods don’t look,” he whispered, averting his eyes quickly. “Verillius Receptor, Zariel’s High-Inquisitor in her true form.”

“Fuck…” Rhia breathed, peering at the horrifying apparition barring their way forward.

Even for someone who had fought in the Blood Wars and lived, Receptor was a ghastly, nightmare-inducing sight.
Three sets of burning eyes, one of them on the back of her deformed head, her face looking like a pestilent burn mark, her arms… one hacked-off and ending in a massive syringe while the other held a set of immense pliers that could crack your skull open effortlessly.

“How the fuck should we get past that?” Tyas whispered, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.

“Deception and distraction,” Rhia imparted, trying to devise a plan.

Tyas smirked. “Decapitation and dismemberment, you mean.”

“Alright... so like old times. I’ll be the distraction; you do the dismemberment bit?”

Tyas ruffled her hair. “Oh, how I’ve missed this, Hellcat.”

Rhia raised an eyebrow. “The constant danger of death looming over us?”

“That and doing this with you. “His eyes were glued to Receptor. “The time’s now.... before more show up, or she alerts her Mistress.”

Facing Zariel...
No, that honour should fall to Raphael.

Rhia gave a curt nod before leaving the shadows of the alcove and casting the illusion spell.
This time, hopefully, getting it right.

“Missstresss....” the Inquisitor hissed, bowing her disfigured head towards her as Rhia strode forward.

“Lower, Inquisitor. And change into a less appalling form,” Rhia hissed, trying to get the archduchess’ tone right.

Just a moment of distraction. Tyas would handle the rest soon enough.
Impersonating Zariel. What a plan... what madness!

Tyas, come on! Rhia cursed in her mind, trying to focus on the charade while not running away, screaming at the abomination before her.
Easier said than done.

“Open the doors; I require an artefact.”

“Y-yes, right away Mistress....” the Inquisitor said, running her syringe bearing hand down the door which gave way instantly.

“My Mistress...”

“It’s empty, I take it?” Rhia snarled.

“Yes, your orders--” the Inquisitor took a whiff, sniffing the air as if something was amiss.

Not good… the tiefling felt a cold wave of panic washing over her.

The Inquisitor’s four frontal eyes narrowed, focusing on Rhia with blazing fury.” Impossstorrr, magic currrr,” she hissed, the acrid saliva splashing out of her mouth as she spoke.

Rhia stumbled backwards when Verillius Receptor charged at her, her syringe aimed like a maddened advespa’s stinger.
The time for deceit was over; the dismemberment could start any second now…

Tyas’s sword flashed through the air, making short work of the syringe-bearing arm and causing the.... thing to roar in anguish.

“Inside, quick!” Rhia ordered, throwing the wave of thunder the Inquisitor’s way, thus pushing her into the treasury with Tyas closing the doors behind them quickly.

“You....” the Inquisitor snarled, her eyes filled with venom. “The two tainted-one’s finally reunited. Wasn’t one of you supposed to be dead? The Mistress had the darkest pit reserved just for you…”

Receptor got up, dragging her massive pliers over the stony ground with a bloodcurdling screech.

“Stay behind me!” Tyas said, readying his sword, coating it with a thin layer of magical ice and making Rhia roll her eyes.

If even literally dying didn’t stop her brother from playing the hero, what would?

“Stop those stupid heroics. We’re a team!” She grunted, casting her wards.

“So, like old times?” Tyas asked, focusing on the nearing Inquisitor.

Rhia nodded, preparing the next spell.
“Exactly. Ready?”

“Born ready.”

Rhia’s magic curled around her brother, enlarging him to a towering height matching the Inquisitor’s colossal physique.
“Much better,” he boomed as he charged at her.

Tyas stood his ground, Rhia’s occasional spell supporting him wherever needed. There was no doubt the two of them could take care of that fiend.
That, however, wasn’t what they came here for.
With a quick look at Tyas, who had just relieved the Inquisitor of her other arm, Rhia began searching the room for that blasted sceptre.

In contrast to Raphael’s treasury, this one was an actual joke.
Zariel wasn’t known for her love of history and artefacts, but somehow, Rhia had expected more from the Archduchess of Avernus than this…potpourri of unassorted odds and ends.

The sudden tingle of raw power made her shiver in anticipation and fear. The sceptre was near; there wasn’t a single doubt about it.

“And it looks just like on the archivist’s scroll…” the tiefling whispered, grabbing it while Tyas was still fighting the Inquisitor, who let out horrible screams whenever his iced blade hit her.

Her screams… reminded Rhia of something.
Of an owlbear cub shrieking for its mother… alerting its mother, which at any moment would swoop down on top of them.

Oh, bloody Hells…
“Tyas, we need to get—” she began, casting the shackles on the Inquisitor’s legs, securing her to the ground when she heard it.
The rattling of a chain paired with the scraping sound of a hellfire sword being dragged over the ground, the sizzling of flames roaring up as a portal opened within the treasury, and then… the smell of fiery death penetrating the air.

Zariel…

“You dare break into my fortress? Little mortal thieves!” the archdevil snarled, her voice cutting through the air like a razor.

Rhia set her jaw, studying the fiend in front of them.
The archduchess hadn’t changed the slightest since last she saw her.
Her left arm ended in her signature flail while she bore her flaming sword in her right one, pointing it at them in sheer fury.

Gods be damned!
The Inquisitor was one thing, a damned archdevil another.

Rhia conjured up a portal, grabbing Tyas only to be stopped by Zariel barring their way forward with a wall of roaring hellfire, singing their eyebrows.

“You’re not leaving here alive, mortals... I’ll scorch you down to your very spines.”

“Down!” Tyas commanded, cutting through the fireball she had aimed at them with grunts and hisses.
“Allying with a cambion against an archdevil... insolent idiots! Your kind only learns the hard way or not at all.”

Zariel drew nearer, swinging her flail at them aggressively.
Thanks to her brother’s precise hits, at least that infernal Inquisitor was dealt with. She had succumbed to her wounds while Rhia had held her in the magic shackles.

Still, the two of them taking on the ruler of Avernus had not been on today’s list.

Blasted, blazing Hells, Raphael!

What happened to: I will take care of Zariel and get you out of there safely?
Maybe the cambion was dead?
Fear struck Rhia like lightning.
He couldn’t be dead, could he? Bad weeds grew tall, after all.

They had this damned stick of immense power or whatever...
Rhia looked down at the sceptre of Karsus in her hands.
Might as well use it… But how?
Where the Hells was Gale when you needed him?

The tiefling had no time to think about using the sceptre, not with an enraged archdevil out for their blood and souls.
Zariel took a leap, throwing Tyas off-balance and making him hit the ground several meters away from her with a loud thud.

The heat radiating off the archdevil was unbearable, even at the distance.
Time to cool her off.

“Glacius!” Rhia threw the ice bolt at her, hitting the devil right in her face before she could swoop down on Tyas.

That got her attention.
Oh no…

Zariel snapped her head towards her, her frost-covered face already dripping, revealing the mask of anger underneath it.

Oh, boy!

The archdevil charged at her, her blazing eyes boring through her like a ray of hellfire.
Her spells slowed her down; the walls of ice Rhia had conjured up were barring her path, if only for a few moments.

Hells… they were done for. No way around it this time.

Rhia closed her eyes, bracing for the impact of Zariel’s flail against her head. Her wards wouldn’t survive the force, and neither would she.
The only thing she hoped for was that it would be quick.

A tingling sensation covered her from head to toe, warmth washing over her body like a protective embrace.
His presence flooded her senses before her brain could even grasp the situation.

The sound of his leathery wings spreading in front of her guardingly.
The smell of battle still clinging to him tightly.
The look in his fiery eyes as he brought down his warhammer on Zariel mercilessly, over and over again while caging her with a sort of magic Rhia had never felt before.
The magic he drew from the Crown resting on his head.

Raphael.

When the former archduchess of Avernus lay at his feet defeated, the devil’s eyes found hers.
Raphael’s lips curled into an impish half-smile when he raised his hand, showing her three fingers.

Three…

The third time, he had saved her life.

Blasted devil!

Rhia shot up from her crouched position, flinging her arms around him before pressing her lips on his.
He was running hot from the fight, his muscles still tense, the tingle of strange magic still covering his skin.

“So, still love that you hate me, little Hellcat?” he asked, looking down at her.

The new Archduke of Avernus, in all his infernal glory.
Hells…
She wouldn’t hear the end of it!

“Oh, just shut up,” Rhia hissed, quieting the cambion down with another kiss.
He definitely didn’t hear out loud what he already knew she was thinking.

Not yet, at least.

“Here, though, it doesn’t seem like you need it,” Rhia imparted, giving him the sceptre.

“Not for Avernus, evidently, but Mephistopheles and Asmodeus, well, all in due time, little Hellcat,” the devil said,

“There’ll be a short inauguration, after which I’ll have some time,” Raphael continued, his hand curled around the back of her neck possessively. If you know what’s good for you, you will await me in my chambers; if not… I’ll just drag you there myself, understood? He added in her mind.

Rhia shivered., giving an affirmative nod.
Her body knew what was good for her; today, she might even listen to it.
Just this once…

Fuck, who am I kidding?

His inauguration had taken longer than Raphael had anticipated.
Hells… it was a blasted drag.

After Zariel’s generals and legions had sworn fealty to the new Lord of the First, Raphael set his plans in motion to secure his power in Dis and Minauros. The second and third layers of the Nine would be his by morning. The others would soon follow, some easier than others.
A calculated endeavour, each step meticulously planned in advance, and now, with the Crown and the Scepter in his possession, let’s say the risk of failing was close to nil.

Raphael chuckled.
Those were the odds he lived for.

The cambion sighed when his feet felt the solid ground of his chambers. A little respite… he earned that.

His tail twitched in response when his eyes caught the blazing green of hers.

And he most definitely earned that.

There, lying on his bed like the delicious feast she was, wearing nothing but a silken shawl draped over her sinful curves while awaiting his arrival.

Her eyes, normally filled with sarcasm and defiance, were ablaze with pure, unmasked desire. The kind that brought mortals into the Hells, to begin with.
That Hellcat was right where she belonged.
Finally!

“Ready to sing my praises, pet?” Raphael asked, stepping in front of the bed and letting his eyes feast on her curves.

She nodded softly, running her fingers over the fastenings of his leather armour. Judging by the look on her face, she was fighting to keep the extent of her nervousness and anticipation hidden, her hands from shaking.
Adorable wasn’t a word normally in Raphael’s vocabulary, but it somehow fitted here.

His clothes dropped to the ground one by one as she peppered his skin with needy kisses, caressing his body with care and need.
Raphael was used to being worshipped by his servants, but this was new to him.
The air was palpable with something more than lust, more than desire.
With something… unthinkable, at least on the plane of Baator.

When she ran her nails down his back and over his wings, Raphael shivered.
Shivered… at the touch of a mortal.
When she pulled him on top of her, her eyes fixed on his as he slid inside, his tail found hers, curling itself around it possessively, like two enamoured wraithworms caught in the act of making love.

Making love; not a term Raphael would usually use for doing the dark deed.

Mine…

He thrust into her, harsher, as she crossed her legs behind his back, pulling him closer, engulfing him with everything she could give him.
And she wanted to give him… everything.

His mouth found the mark he had left on her neck during their last encounter, kissing it softly before sucking on it with need as he buried himself deeper inside her.
He took what he needed yet gave her what she craved.
More of him, more of this perfect sin.
Blazing, bleeding Hells!

He felt it in his body, in his mind, in his gods-forsaken soul!

“You’re mine, little Hellcat,” he growled, the tingling feeling shooting into his stomach, threatening to burst through his loins. “Fucking say it!” He hissed, holding it back.

“I’m yours, Raphael—Master…” she breathed, her words being drowned by her moans of pleasure.

Her husky voice, her nails digging into his back, her tail relenting to his in sweet submission…
And her drenched walls, spasming around his hard cock in sheer ecstasy.

Raphael’s heart stuttered in his chest as he went over that sinful edge, filling her with his hot seed.
Before collapsing on top of her and inevitably crushing her underneath his weight, he pulled out, lying down next to her shivering body.
Without a second thought, he pulled the blanket over their bodies, enveloping her in one of his wings, securing her, really, who knew where that woman was going to run to after this.
After… making love.

Rhia looked up at him, raising her eyebrows in question, her cheekiness plain as hellfire, a sassy remark just waiting on that sharp tongue of hers.

The devil’s heart sped up in his chest once again.
Oh, for the love of—

“Shut up, will you?” he hissed, pulling her closer and resting his head on hers.

Eternity was definitely not going to be a drag now, after all.