Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sparsssis couldn’t stay still while they thought. After six years of practice, if they put their mind to it, they could phrase their words in a way that sounded sufficiently formal for the official proclamations of a Matron Mother—the formula was straightforward: several “whereas” statements followed by a “hereby.” Their handwriting, however lagged far behind. Sparassis could write well enough to sign their name clearly, but had no interest in developing the skill any further. The written word was a terribly imprecise way to communicate, and why did she need to learn herself, when she was so woefully behind yet had a wife who gladly did the work for her?

She paused in her pacing and thinking and stood behind Minthara to look over her shoulder. Minthara’s penmanship was so perfect it looked unnatural. All that remained was the final “hereby,” but Sparassis was vexed by how to phrase it in a way that was both sufficiently direct and sufficiently diplomatic.

“Are you really so sure that this is the one that might cause problems? We aren’t trying to forbid Lolth worship, just make it non-compulsory.” They did not speak, but instead placed a hand on the bare skin of Minthara’s upper arm and reach out through the mycelium that joined them. The fungal grafts on the back of her neck that Minthara had accepted years ago had grown enough to let the two of them share thoughts freely, even more so than when they linked via Ilithid parasites.

“To the most devoted Lolthites, even tolerance of other ways of life is seen as a threat,” Minthara thought back.

“Nobody objected to conscription.”

Minthara pulled away and turned her head to look up at Sparassis. “I’m surprised you expected them to.” This time she spoke, with a stern, lecturing tone like she often did when Sparassis said something that highlighted her naïveté. “A small village rising up to take Menzoberranzan? I should think anyone would be honored to take part.”

She was right. There had more volunteers than conscripts, but even as their army grew Minthara had her doubts if they would be enough, and she devoted many hours to gathering more allies. There was the new Myconid circle that began with the orphan sprout Sparassis rescued years ago and Duergar willing to align themselves with an enemy of their enemy, but one key component was still uncertain. Sparassis placed her hands on Minthara’s shoulders and sensed the very thought.

“There hasn’t been any words from the Gondians?” They asked.

Minthara shook her head and sighed. “Nothing worthwhile. While they are eager to aid their liberators, they have concerns about rebuilding the steel watch. Concerns that I doubt will be quelled without coercion.”

“I won’t consider that.”

“Then allow me to urge you to consider how this is any different from legally mandated conscription.”

“It’s completely different!” She couldn’t say how, but she knew it was, so the paused to think. “We earned the trust of the Gondians by helping them, you can’t turn around and take advantage of that.”

“I believe most of the villagers in the valley would say the same about the woman who killed Virella Desvirr.”

“You just said that moving on Menzoberanzan was what they wanted.”

“And the Gondians wish to repay their debts. In both cases, we find ourselves in a position where the right persuasive forces must be applied. Never be fearful of applying pressure to get what you want.”

Sparassis fell silent and went back to wondering what should come after the “hereby” when a welcome distraction pulled her mind away. She could sense her daughter’s presence before she heard her tiny footsteps rushing down the hall, a benefit of the grafts that were just beginning to grow along her hairline and peek out from under her white curls.

“Dahlar!” Sparassis rushed to her child and kelt in front of her. In the child’s hands was a slate with handwriting exercises written on in chalk. “Better show that to Minthara, I don’t know enough about penmanship to judge it.”

Dalhar nodded and ran to Minthara’s side, eagerly holding out the slate for Minthara to examine. Minthara narrowed her eyes as looked over her daughter’s work before giving a small nod of approval. “Well done. You’ve been working hard, I can see the improvement.”

Sparassis glanced over to look for herself. Even though she didn’t know much herself, she could see Dalhar’s progress too: the size and spacing of the letters was more even, the lines of writing straighter. “I think it won’t be too long before you’re good enough to take over for Minthara and do all of my writing for me.”

As Dalhar grinned and beamed with pride, Sparassis patted her daughter on the shoulder “Such incredible progress, and at such a young age.”

“Make no mistake, we have a very clever child,” Minthara answered with a smile. “But the timing and tempo with which she is learning is to be expected of any clever child with access to education.”

“Well I’m still impressed,” Sparassis said as she gave her child another encouraging pat on the head. “Tell us what else you learned from Sarlene today.”

“We practiced fire magic!” She replied with enthusiasm. “And…the other things…I’m not meant to talk about.”

Dalhar stopped when she heard heavy footfalls approaching. Sarlene, the Duergar wizard was never graceful. Sparassis and Minthara both turned to see her in the doorway and set narrowed, fiery eyes on her.

Minthara rose from her seat and crossed to Sarlene. “You meant for our child to keep a secret. Do you understand how that makes your intentions seem vile?” Her size was average among Drow, small among the other races, but she still towered over dwarfs.

“I understand how it could be misconstrued, I only want to explain myself…without the child present.”

Minthara gave Dalhar a stern look, and the child darted away.

“Something isn’t right with her, “ Sarlene continued. “No one should be able to learn magic that easily at such a young age.”

“My child’s talents are not a sign that something’s wrong with her!” Sparassis snapped.

“Maybe not if it was only that. Her talents are distinctively hellish.”

“They most certainly are not!” Sparassis’ heart raced as panic set in. Her own magic was wild and free, she had no idea how one would differentiate between types of magic in practice, but in her heart she knew the ugly truth: the nature of her daughter’s conception, the messy pact she made to have her child born looking mostly like a normal half drow, the warning Haarlep gave against concealing these truths….

“She has an infernal glow in her eyes and you claim she was conceived by two women who were both female from birth. Matron, I know your kind well enough that if such magic were possible you would allow even fewer males to live.”

Sparassis closed their eyes. “The limits to your knowledge is not my problem.”

“I’ve know a fair few individuals who were born female and went through every avenue to be indistinguishable from those born male. Viable seed was the only thing they could not replicate. I have no doubt that this child is not entirely of the material plane.”

Minthara crossed her arms. “And for that reason you felt compelled to tell a young child that she’s a hellish bastard? No more deception, wizard. The truth will simply have you exiled. Deception will lead to your execution.”

“I only opened her mind to the possibility. I taught her briefly of the hells and the signs of fiendish parentage. What she gathers from that is beyond my control.”

Minthara did not yield even as Sparassis touched her arm.

“I believe you. Exile it is.”

Minthara turned, revulsion on her face. “Are you quite certain?”

“I am.” She wasn’t. Sparassis knew she was awful at detecting lies, even with Minthara’s lessons, but she also learn that self doubt and backing down easily would ruin her reputation as a powerful Matron. “Sarleen, I am well aware that I would not be here without your assistance, but our alliance has reached its end. Consider exile an act of mercy.”

Sarleen chuckled softly. “Don’t know why I was fool enough to expect any different from a pair of damn dirty Drow, even if one of you is half breed. Mark my words, though. The time will come when you can’t keep her little secret hidden any longer.”

Without another word Sarleen turned and left.

Sparassis and Minthara stood frozen until Minthara took her hand and squeezed it tightly. Sparassis felt as though every cell in her body would break apart and burn up. She hugged Minthara tight, finding grounding and security in her arms.

“She’s right.” Sparassis thought. “That’s exactly what Haarlep said.”

“And if they are both right? With infernal powers, only the worst of fools would dare to challenge her for it.”

Minthara’s reassurance dull the worst of the sting, but Sparassis still head tight to her lover for need of comfort. Every time she considered the true nature of her child, she was faced with the reality of her conception: that rather than by an act of love her daughter was created in an act of coercion by a devil who delighted in her continued torment.

He had, at least, as years went by, lost interest in using her body. Sparassis hoped it wasn’t because he found someone else to torment.

Chapter Text

Sparassis sensed her child through the spores, but even without their connection she knew her daughter well enough to guess where she might be.  Just as she suspected, Dalhar was in the garden sitting with the Myconids.  When she and Minthara first conquered this place, the garden was unkempt and dying, but now it was alive and wild, full of thriving moss and lichen in every softly glowing color of the Underdark.  

They sat beside their child and let the Circle’s song hum within their body.  These Myconids sprouted from the same Circle that raised Sparassis, but its song had changed.  It’s progenitor was a young sole survivor of a vicious attack, and the others sprouted from spores of Sparassis’s and Minthara’s own grafts.  They were close in age to Dalhar, but Their song was harmonious, but aggressive and melancholy, shaped by painful memories and fleshy impulses.  Like any Myconids, they desired peace, but their song was tainted: jaded and cynical, doubtful if their desires could come to fruition.

They used their spore to reach out to their child:

What did Sarleen teach you today?

“I can show you,” Dalhar spoke.  She didn’t have her mother’s aversion to conventional communication.  “Can you make a flame?”

Sparassis held out her hand and conjured a flame just over her palm.  Dalhar reach out to stick her fingertips into the fire, and though Sparassis tried to flinch away, instead she showed no sign of pain or harm.

“It’s like a warm tickle,” she said with a smile.

Perplexed, she tilted her head and let her mouth gape open.  “That’s…a very rare ability.  Useful too, I’d imagine.”

“Sarleen said it comes from The Hells.”

Sparassis felt a stab in the chest.  Betrayal…Someone she trusted filled her daughter’s head with dangerous thoughts, but she knew it was right.  She had fought devils before and seen how fire revitalized them.  “Did she tell you anything else?”

Dalhar shrugged.  “Only that it’s a special gift to be touched by the Hells.”

Sparassis paused to consider their words carefully…how they hated words when the thoughts were already in their head.  “Dalhar…I don’t know the source of this ability, but there is no reason for a young child to be Hells-touched.”

“She also said my eyes were another sign of it.”

“She said a lot of things!…my father was half-Tiefling.  It skips…two generations.”  That came out terribly.  Even as awful as she was at detecting lies, Sparassis could hear how laughably unbelievable her words were.  “Just…play with the sprouts.  I need to talk to Minthara.”

Minthara was at work writing a new document, and did not look up from her writing until Sparassis stood behind her and placed her hands on her shoulders to reach out to her mind.

Sarleen’s been giving Dalhar reasons to believe she’s Hellspawn.

“Regrettable that it happened while she is still too young to fully comprehend or to understand the importance of keeping such a secret, but the truth was bound to come out.”  Minthara was disarmingly calm, no signs of distress even as Sparassis fought back panic.  “The greater concern is Sarleen’s betrayal, not our child’s knowledge.”

Sparassis curled their hands into fists and closed their eyes.  “She was never meant to know.”

“For someone who has always valued the truth you are staunchly committed to preserving a lie.”

“It was meant to be normal!”  Sparassis stepped away and clapped her hand behind her neck.  She paced he room, too much energy burning within her to stay still.  “That was the agreement, that once Haarlep had the soul he wanted everything would be normal.”

“Sparassis…” Minthara sighed.  “You were raised by mushrooms.  Normal was never a reasonable expectation.  Now.  I have arranged a meeting with Zander Toobin.  We will see if he can be persuaded.”

“Matrons, I am forever in your debt and happy to offer aid in any other way, but I refuse to rebuild the Steel Watch,” Toobin pleaded .  He stood before Minthara and Sparassis in the throne room, desperate to the point where he seemed as though he might drop to his knees and beg to be heard.

“As you have said before in our correspondence.”  Minthara was irritated, bored.  “What you have failed to do is explain your reasons.”

“Ethically, I cannot allow it.  Steel Watchers are carved from flesh and powered by Hellfire.  A construct could not otherwise have such autonomy and coordination.”

“And there’s no other way?”  Sparassis was more receptive than the other two, but she was beginning to have doubts of her own.  “Could they be controlled by magic?”

“Only with a pilot in close proximity, and if the pilot is slain…so goes the Watcher.”

Sparassis frowned.  That solution was far from ideal.  They sat in though for a moment until their eyes opened wide with delight as a solution so obvious that it was just beneath their skin occurred to the.  “Mycelium!”

Toobin tilted his head in curiosity, and Minthara leaned closer, just as intrigued.  

“It would take ages to explain fully, and even then I doubt a flesh-walker would understand.”  Still, Sparassis had to try.  “Mycelium.  It connects fungi in the Underdark, allows them to share thoughts and spread nutrients.”

“Which means that, if this is indeed a viable alternative, the Watchers could be linked to those Myconids in your garden.”

“As well as myself, my wife…” Theoretically their child too.

“It’s worth investigating.  But as for the infernal engine…”

Minthara held Sparassis’s hand to send her a thought.

Our child has an infernal aptitude…

Sparassis yanked her hand away, disgusted by the thought.  

“I trust that the greatest Gondians minds can come up with an alternative When they aren’t forced into an abusive environment.  Your people are welcome to stay as long as you need.”

“And if it cannot be done?”  Toobin asked, nervous.

“Then we will gladly accept whatever other assistance you can provide.”

Minthara took her hand again, this time grasping it tightly.

He could have been swayed in a show of force.  You are still too soft for conquest.

Again, Sparassis pulled away.  Conquest was not what she wanted, it was what Minthara wanted.

Chapter Text

For six years their war raged on.  Minthara called it a war, at least, but Sparassis found that description a bit too generous.  Rather, it was a period of aggression: carefully orchestrated attacks and skirmishes meant that followed a precise plan that Sparassis didn’t pretend to understand and to send a message that House Desvirr was growing stronger and would not be ignored.  Their holding expanded beyond the narrow valley below, and just as Minthara predicted, they fell into place gladly.  She was right, the promise of joining the army that would crush House Baenre was an enticing one.

However, they lacked the key component that would allow them to clinch their victory.  For all the progress that had been made on the Steel Watchers, the substitutes for flesh and infernal iron that Sparassis suggested still paled in comparison to the original prototype.  Sparassis, however, remained optimistic.

The Gondians had their workshop set up in what used to be Virella Desvirr’s ballroom: a dusty old place overgrown with lichen.  While Sparassis had worked to make the rest of her mother’s old home into a beautiful fungal garden, this room she neglected.  A big, empty room seemed like a waste, but now they were glad to have it.

Sparassis took a deep breath and tried to focus.  “I can do it.  I understand better how to control it.”  They closed their eyes and reached out to the mycelium within the Watcher.  The construct took two lurching steps forward, raised its weapon, and swung.  Sparassis was impressed, but this was a far cry from the efficient war machines used by Enver Gortash.  They looked to their wife and child, eagerly expecting approval.

“This has been a waste of time,” Minthara sighed.  “Gortash raised an autonomous and highly skilled army in only a few tendays.  This method has taken six years, and yours can barely walk.”

“Let the Myconids try,” Sparassis suggested.  “Surely they would have a stronger connection.”

“Do as you wish, I have grown weary of watching failed experiments.  Had you not been so insistent on finding a new method I would be sitting on my mother’s throne by now.”

Sparassis watched her leave and felt a bitter pang in their heart.  Here she thought she was adapting so well, working so hard and yet it wasn’t enough.  Nobody had ever been disappointed in her before, at least not in a way that cut so deeply.

There was no use in trying again, focusing was difficult enough without her own feelings distracting her, and she wasn’t in the mood to go and reason with Minthara.  Instead she went to the garden to sit with the Myconids.  Nothing soothed her like sharing in their song.

Dalhar was there already, and gods how she had grown over the six years that went by in what felt like an instant.  She was an immensely clever child, and even though they never found a replacement instructor after sending away Sarleen, her education seemed not to suffer from being self-driven. She had been a polite and well-behaved child, and yet a constant source of headaches.  Every boundary Sparassis and Minthara gave her was not only questioned and challenged, but argued against with level-headed clarity and expert persuasion.  If anything, her uncanny ability to exploit every possible interpretation of the rules to her advantage was the most devilish thing about her.

 Sparassis smiled as she sat beside her, feeling better already.  Maybe she could give the Watcher another go in a bit.

Minthara’s frustrated, she thought through the spores.

Again?  Dalhar thought back.

Sparassis smiled and shook her head and she shared the memory from moments ago: the awkwardly moving construct, her own feelings of pride and how they were suddenly dashed.  

“I may have to admit she was right.”  Sparassis said with a shrug.

“I bet adding an infernal engine would help,” Dalhar offered, a lively glow in her red eyes.

“I’d rather not.”

“Why not?  There’s nothing wrong about it.”

Sparassis took a deep breath, trying to think of the best way to both phrase her thoughts accurately and not start a fight with her daughter.  “There is if you understand how they function.”

“Souls.”  Dalhar gave a noncommittal shrug.  “I don’t see the problem unless you’re harvesting them yourself.”

Sparassis’s blood ran cold.  Their mind spiralled and latched onto the worst possible thoughts: that despite their efforts their child was a devil, that her nature as such would never change.  Another deep breath as she tried to reassure herself.  Dalhar was a child, speaking nonsense about something she knew too little about to comprehend.  “Where did you learn so much about infernal mechanisms?”

“From a book.”

Of course.  Their child had an incredible appetite for knowledge.  Sparassis and Minthara went through great lengths to monitor what she read, but boldly defying one’s parents was normal, expected, at her age.  Not that Sparassis had lived as such.  At the age of twelve she was mostly furious that her own changing body was made of flesh instead of fungus.

“Dalhar…” Sparassis tried to be firm yet gentle, but couldn’t strike the balance and instead came off condescending.  “I appreciate your honesty, but you aren’t meant to read about such things.”

“It wasn’t about the hells, or devils, or anything!  I haven’t technically broken any rules.”

“It was never approved…”

“Minthara did approve it, though!”  Dalhar was practically shouting in her own defense.

And there it was, another disagreement that stung more than it had any right to, this time with the added bite of betrayal that sent Sparassis questioning her wife’s motives: was it a simple oversight or misunderstanding, or had Minthara acted in secret knowing that Sparassis would disapprove.

“You aren’t her child, I don’t see why she should have a say,” Sparassis grumbled.  She meant to keep her words to herself, but the confused, shocked look in her daughter’s eyes showed how badly she had failed.

“Mother?”

Shit.

“Forget it…I’m hurt and saying things that are hurtful…I need space…I’m sorry.”

Sparassis turned and left, shamed and frustrated by how poorly that entire exchange had gone.  She needed time alone and space to breathe, but where could she hope to find it with one person she was avoiding in the garden and the other somewhere inside.

Chapter Text

Sparassis couldn't find the solitude they sought. They wandered every room and and ever inch of the grounds, but every time they sat to gather their thoughts, the felt the distant hum in the mycelium: awareness of her wife and daughter's thoughts, the Myconids, the fungal life inside the new Steel Watchers. For the first in their life, Sparassis found their presence intrusive rather than comforting. For the first time they wanted to be truly alone.

They returned to the ballroom where the Watchers sat crumbled and limp like an empty suit of armor, just a reminder of how the old ones seemed alive and alert. The Gondians stood in a cluster, chattering over plans and schematics, topics far too technical for Sparassis to make any sense of a word of it. She approached them with a warm smile and stood silently with the thoughts she wanted to convey in her head before realizing she was in front of the few people who lived here who couldn't hear her through the spores.

"That should be enough for today. Minthara and I will discuss further plans later tonight."

With a few gracious words of thanks and farewells for the evening, the Gondians scattered and left Sparassis alone in the workshop. The Watcher was like a broken toy, but maybe another try would bring it to life. Alone, there was no pressure: no one she hoped to impress, no stakes, no fear of judgmental eyes. They released a cloud of spores to reach out to the Watcher. Slowly. the construct stood upright and raised its weapon. She felt more connected than before, and with only her thoughts made the Watcher walk, jump, and swing its weapon with ease. An improvement, but the damn thing still lacked autonomy no matter how elegantly she could pilot it.

They broke the connection and let the Walker collapse lifeless to the ground. Minthara was right, but there would be no convincing the Gondians without heavy and possibly violent coercion. Sparassis sat on ground and dwelt on her thoughts, her own thoughts, until it was time to join her wife and daughter for dinner.

Minthara was right. Sparassis meant to bring it up, but instead sat in silence as she rehearsed words in her head but never found the courage to speak them. She had little appetite and moved her food around on her plate more than she ate it, but that wasn't anything unusual. By now, Sparassis was well known for having a picky palate and seeing eating as a tiresome chore one had to do to keep from dying.

"Tell me how you spent your day," Minthara asked Dalhar, breaking the awkward silence.

"I did a lot of reading," she answered as she sliced her rothe steak. She made a point of looking Sparassis in the eye before continuing. "History. About Netheril."

"Minthara and I traveled with a Wizard who was an expert on that topic. I should invite him over, it's been ages." It was a relief to talk of anything other than Steel Watchers or the hells. Sparassis felt more at ease to speak freely with their family.

"As much as I would enjoy seeing the Wizard learning his proper place, I was pleased to be forever rid of his presence," Minthara muttered.

"Maybe I'll write a letter instead," Dalhar suggested with a little shrug.

They ate in silence until Sparassis found the courage speak her mind.

"I…experimented more with the Steel Watchers, alone." Sparassis laid down her fork and looked down. "You were right. There is no other way to make them do what we need."

Minthara nodded. "And how do you propose to convince the Gondians to abandon their troublesome yet deeply held principles?"

"We're in the midst of the war, there's no shortage of bodies. They agreed to be part of a war effort, they should have no hesitation about making use of them."

"And if that fails to sway them?"

Sparassis let out a little, exacerbated breath. "Then perhaps, again, you were right and threats may be necessary. If it comes to that."

"Never let a tender heart hinder your ambitions." Minthara turned her head to give Dalhar a pointed look. "A lesson for you, as well."

Dalhar led the remaining dinner conversation: proudly listing off facts she had read about Netheril, which gave Sparassis a sense of relief. It seemed that she at least wasn't lying about spending her afternoon studying something less…devilish. A servant cleared the table, and Dalhar excused herself after giving each of her parents a kiss on the cheek.

Minthara and Sparassis stayed behind for another glass of lichen wine. Sparassis would need it to work up the courage of what she wanted to say. They took a little sip…bitter as always.

"It's been years, when exactly will I acquire a taste for this?"

"If you truly find it unpalatable, there's no need to keep forcing yourself to drink down a glass every night."

Sparassis shrugged. "I like the way it makes me feel." They took another long drink and thought about how to put their thoughts to words: how to be truthful and direct without accusing. "Dalhar told me she's been learning about infernal mechanics."

Minthara nodded. "I thought it would be a useful field of study, even if she is years…decades of study away from being able to make use of it."

"I wouldn't have approved it."

Minthara sat up straighter. "Apologies. I thought the topic still fit your guidelines. Though, to be perfectly honestly, I think it does her no favors to limit the knowledge she can access."

Another sip of wine to calm herself. If the circumstances were different, if her child wasn't alarmingly close to discovering a nasty secret she would have agreed. "It's not only that I don't want her learning about anything hellish. The infernal engine…Karlach…"

"Karlach is still in Avernus searching for a cure for her unique affliction. She will never find it if everyone forbids the study of topics that make them uncomfortable. However, for her sake, I hope she finds her cure well before Dalhar has had the time to make a proper study of it. If she chooses to make a proper study."

There was no arguing against that. But why did it have to be her child? Sparassis sat in silence and drank down the rest of her wine. "Maybe I've been too restrictive. I'm just afraid…"

"Our child is stronger than you can understand. Your own fears are the obstacle."

Sparassis smiled, more to soothe herself than anything. "This time, I don't know that you're right, but I hope you are." She rose from her seat and ducked her head to give Minthara a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you in bed."

As she turned to go, Minthara firmly took hold of her forearm and pulled her closer. "I would rather not wait."

Sparassis's heart fluttered as she straddled Minthara's lap and bent her neck down to press her forehead against her lover's. She knew that look in Minthara's crimson eyes: pure lust. They lingered for a moment before Sparassis pressed up closer and kissed Minthara with hungry passion. The pair was balanced awkwardly on a rigid, high-backed chair until Minthara held her firmly from underneath and lifted her to the edge of the table. Sparassis laid back, legs spread and ready…

…Until the entire mood was shattered by a high-pitched shriek that echoed through the halls.

"Dalhar!" She gasped.

They both dashed through the halls, panic growing with every footstep until they burst through the door into Dalhar's bedroom where they saw their child: crumpled on the floor, breathing heavily and…changed. Long, slender horns sprouted from her head and bat-like wings from her back.

Dalhar dared to lift her head. Her face was the same: terrified and confused, but unchanged.

"Mother?" Her voice was also unchanged, but frail and small like when she was much young and frightened by a bad dream. Dalhar gave her parents a desperate look that both tugged at Sparassis's heartstrings and made her want to run away.

"I don't know how to explain this…" Sparassis looked to Minthara, hoping for guidance, but before her partner could respond there was a sudden flash and a wave that stank of Avernus.

"But you can explain it, can't you?" A familiar voice teased, one she hadn't heard in years but still sent a shiver down Sparassis's spine: Haarlep. "I recall warning you of the problems that might arise if you hid the truth."

Sparassis curled her hands into fists. "What have you done with my child? We had an agreement…"

Haarlep stepped closer and placed a powerful hand on Sparassis's shoulder. "Our agreement has been honor and remains unviolated. I have the soul I wanted, your child was changed into a form that wouldn't kill you on the way out."

While they spoke, Dalhar picked herself up from off the floor and stood tall. Even though her face was still fearful, she looked powerful as she tried for the first time to stretch her tail and flutter her wings. She looked from Sparassis, to Minthara, and then to Haarlep.

"Can…can someone explain why there's a devil in my bedroom?"

"That devil," Minthara explained flatly, "is your father."

Dalhar stayed still, wild eyed as she processed the new information. "So that explains…this."

"You will master the transformations in time," Haarlep answered with a smile. "Don't deny your true nature."

Without another word, Haarlep vanished just as suddenly as he had appeared.

Dalhar, Minthara, and Sparassis all stood in silence and breathing heavily until Dalhar crossed the room to examine her changed appearance. Her eyes were wide and lips parted as she ran the tips of her fingers over her horns and extended her wings.

"It's…strange…" Her voice was still soft, but stronger and more confident. "It feels…right."

"Dalhar…" Sparassis blinked. Her eyes itched and she could feel her body tremble, but she was determined not to break down and cry. "This isn't right. This isn't you, you're half-Drow…"

"And half devil, no matter how much you lied about it!" There was a visceral bite in her daughter's voice that hurt her deeper than seeing her child pained and distressed. How could it be that she had done everything to protect her child but still made the wrong choice?

Minthara put a a steading hand on Sparassis's shoulder but spoke to their child. "Are you alright to be left alone?"

"I'd prefer it."

With that, Minthara led Sparassis out and left Dalhar alone.

Chapter Text

Dalhar went back to the mirror. She could hear her mother sobbing just outside the door…good. Let her feel remorse for her deception.

She looked back to the mirror, beginning to grow accustomed to the changes in her appearance…her real appearance, based on what her father had said. She stood a little taller and straighter. Something looked more respectable about her. Even though she was still small and had a child's round face, but she felt more grown up. No one would look upon her and think she was a helpless child.

But in some ways, she felt like a helpless child. Dalhar was curious and confused and couldn't hope that her parents would give her any answers. There was one who might be able to offer insights, but she had been exiled years ago, and Dalhar had no hope of slipping off to find her with her parents just outside the door. She went to the window and looked out to the valley below to let out a heavy sigh, but only moments later her eyes opened wide with an exciting realization.

Dalhar opened the window and breathed in the cool, damp air of the Underdark while she dug deep to find the courage she needed. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she climbed and dove out the window.

At first she plummeted until frantic, panicked movements turned into enough wing beats to keep herself afloat in the air. It was harder work than she thought, or maybe her muscles were still too weak. She was well aware of the fact that this was not like running: if she became exhausted, she couldn't simply stop. But for all the aches and exhaustion, there was something freeing about it. Dalhar would never walk again if she could avoid it,

There were stories that Minthara and Sparassis told of their return to the Underdark: the system of caverns that once housed the Myconid circle, how Sarleen had been living in the caves after they had been slaughtered. No one could guess if that was where Sarleen had returned to, but Dalhar had no where else to look.

She flew down, dropping into a steep dive before gliding just above the ground. How was she meant to…land? The ground was too close and coming up too fast. Dalhar closed her eyes as she crashed into the dirt, transforming back into her old self the moment she hit the ground. She stood up and brushed the dust from herself: just a few scrapes on her knees and the palms of her hands. So much for swearing off walking, though.

As she entered the cave, Dalhar fought back her fears that this was the wrong cave or that she might be walking (alone) straight into unexpected danger. She took a deep breath. There was no need for a half-devil to feel fear.

"Sarleen?" she called. "Do I have the right cave? It's Dalhar."

Dalhar could heard footsteps from deep within the cave, but there was something wrong and hollow about them, a rattle with every step. Out from the darkness shambled a reanimated skeleton. Dalhar reacted quickly and summoned a ball of fire. The skeleton continued to creep forward even as it burned, but its dry bone succumbed to flame before it was close enough for Dalhar to feel the heat of the flames.

"If you waited for me to call it off, you wouldn't have had to ruin my best bodyguard," a familiar voice called. One Dalhar hadn't heard in years.

"Sarleen!" Dalhar rushed closer to the Duergar with an excited spring in her step.

"Damn…you were shorter than me the last time I saw you."

"I'm just glad to see you, I had to make a guess at where even to find you."

"And I'm guessing you have more reason for coming out here other than that you missed me. It's a lot of trouble to come and find a disgraced old wizard."

Dalhar nodded. She fell silent, the events from tonight replaying vividly in her mind: the transformation of her body, meeting her literal devil of a father, her mother's cries.

"You were right…about me I mean."

"Figured the truth would find its way out soon enough," Sarleen answered with a nod. "Now, did you come all this way just to inflate my ego."

"No, there's more than that. I hoped you might have answers for me. You're…" Dalhar paused. Her next guess was a serious accusation. "You're a diabolist, aren't you?"

Sarleen chuckled and shook her head. "Normally, I'd go to great lengths to deny that, but since you've got secrets of your own, that doesn't make much sense."

"Then you can help me? You can help me get home…my real home, I mean? I don't belong here."

"Dalhar…your real home is on the other side of that valley. I can understand your infernal curiosity because I felt it myself, but you'll find nothing in the hells as comforting as what you have over there."

"I don't want comfort! I just want everything to make sense. I don't know what I am or where I came from."

"Dalhar, how old are you now?"

"Twelve years of age."

"You're a cambion, a half devil. You came from your mother sleeping with a devil. It's not that complicated."

Dalhar said nothing, but stared with wide, desperate eyed.

"Come on," Sarleen answered with a sigh. "You're ages away from being ready for it, but if it means you'll leave me alone."

Sarleen led Dalhar deeper into the cavern where she had books piled on a rock ledge. She took the one from the top (a book on Drow history) and waved her hand over the cover to reveal it for what it really was. Infernal runes were embossed into the leather cover, and an energy radiated from it that was otherworldly.

"Promise me," Sarleen urged as she handed the book to Dalhar. "You won't even try to perform the Rites in the book for years. Not until you're a woman grown and fully proficient in magic and combats, and certainly not alone. Might take you that long just to find the components, especially if you're working being Mother's back."

Dalhar accepted the book and looked it over. She couldn't understand the runes, bujt something about them seemed familiar. "I think it wants to be with me." As she studied the runes, the book transformed before her eyes back into its innocuous disguise.

"Maybe so. But take my advise, consider very carefully if venturing into the Hells is truly something you wish to do. Hell isn't even safe for a devil."

Dalhar nodded and held the book close to her chest before she said her thanks and turned to go. With each step, she focused hard on trying to transform back before she realized she would have to make the long journey back on foot.

Chapter Text

Dalhar knew little of the world beyond her home, and now she found herself far from home, alone, the way back home being much less clear from ground level, and unsure of how long the journey would take on foot. She crouched down and placed the palms of her hands on the ground to connect to the mycelium network the way she had seen her mother do it. Dalhar closed her eyes and concentrated, sensing a faint lifeline that connected her to home. She knew which direction to go and how far, but she still felt small and defenseless in her half-Drow form.

One step at a time, that was the only way to complete this journey. Dalhar tried to remain calm and stand tall even though every little thing frightened her. After a few minutes of walking, Dalhar stopped and closed her eyes. to concentrate very carefully on how she might transform back into a cambion. She relived the earlier transformation vividly: thought about every feeling and sensation and her form changed…still nothing. How was she meant to live to her fullest potential if she couldn't even figure out how to regain her true form?

She reminded herself that each step would bring her closer to home and carried on, trying to remain alert but not let herself get startled. Her uneasy mind began to quiet in time, unstil she heard the sounds of a nasty altercation instead: swords cutting flesh, a female voice grunting and cursing, and a spider-like hiss. Dalhar ducking to hid behind a giant toadstool and staying still (nearly holding her breath) until the fighting stopped..and then a little while longer for safety.

Her first few steps from behind her hiding place were slow and cautious as she listened for more signs of trouble (and was well aware that who or whatever came out on top might not be friendly to her. As she came of the hill, she saw the carnage: a Drider, broken and bloody and the Drow woman who stood over his corpse: exhausted, yet triumphant. Dalhar kept her distance, but the Drow sheathed her weapon and walked closer with open arms.

"You've picked a poor place to be all alone, young one," she called. Her skin was a pale shade of violet, and she wore a scarf wrapped tightly around her neck. If she wore a House mark, she meant to keep it hidden. "That Drider would have made quick work of you."

Dalhar dared to step closer and looked down at the dead Drider. If you tried to look past all the extra eyes, he looked a bit like Sparassis. "I think that was my uncle."

"That would not have made it any less hostile." The woman cocked her head, and her gaze fell to the Desvirr glyph marked on Dalhar's neck. "Long way from home, little one."

"You know my family?" Dalhar felt a little nervous jolt. Nobody in the Underdark had honorable intentions.

"I know of your family, and I have business with your mothers. Tell me your name, young one."

"Dalhar."

"Really? I thought that a joke when I heard it."

"My mother doesn't see much use in names. Tell me what kind of business you have with my parents."

"A proposed alliance. I admire your mothers' ambition,and my House would also benefit greatly from seeing House Baenre fall." There was something disarmingly upbeat.

Dalhar narrowed her eyes. "I don't know if it would be more dangerous for me to trust you or take the journey alone."

"With the one path, we can't exactly go our separate ways."

Dalhar considered it. Maybe if trusting this woman was a mistake the need for survival would transform her back into a cambion.

"Your name?"

"Brize Vrinn."

Vrinn. Dalhar had not heard of that House. Minthara, if she even knew of them, didn't consider them to be a threat. At least not one worth mentioning.

"We will travel together," Dalhar replied, even though she felt a see of doubt wiggle its way into her heart. "But understand that if I was harmed in any way, my mothers would repay it tenfold."

"Oh, I'm sure they would." A sly smile appeared on her face. "Fear not, little one, I have no desire to harm you, and if I did I'm not foolish enough to try it. Lead the way, you know how to find your home better than I do."

Dalhar narrowed her eyes. "I know better than to turn my back on someone I just met. Stay in front of me, and I'll let you know if you go astray."

Tolerable would be the best way to describe Brize's company. She spoke little and never asked prying questions. The pair only had a few hours of traveling before they had to stop for the night, and as they made camp a sense of dread fell over Dalhar. It wasn't until now that her thoughts turned back to her parents: not resentment for the years of lies, but heartache to think about how worried they had to be now that she was gone overnight.

They rose early and made the rest of the way in silence. At the foot of the bridge that spanned the valley that held the village below, a Myconid waited to greet them.

"I've found the child," Brize stated. Dalhar gave her a perplexed look. What about that alliance she hoped to form?

The Flesh-Sprout has been returned, the Myconid thought out loud.

They crossed the bridge over the narrow valley, and after every few paces Dalhar glanced at her to try to see if anything in her face or body revealed any hidden truths about her intentions. She stood tall: relaxed and confident. Dalhar couldn't guess anything from looking at her.

The Myconid ushered them into the throne room were Minthara and Sparassis were waiting. Sparassis's eyes were dark and swollen as if she had spent the night sleepless and tearful. She rose from her seat and rushed toward Dalhar to pull her in close for a crushingly tight hug.

Never do that again, she thought through the spores.

However, Minthara's attention was squarely on Brize:her red eyes intense.

"The half-breed child led me to you, Mother," Brize spat.

"Imydra," Minthara gasped. "I take it this isn't a friendly social call."

"I have come to collect your head, Mother, before you become a pest to the House that created you." Brize…Imydra drew her weapon, but Minthara remained calm and unchanged.

"I had rather hoped you were old enough to have outgrown the foolish bravado of youth. Consider that you have little to gain from my death so long as my own mother's heart still beats."

Sparassis tried to usher Dalhar away, but Dalhar turned her head to watch the scene that unfolded in front of her. Imydra tried to stand her ground, but there was a slight slump of her her shoulder, a flash of panic in her eyes.

"I would be just as disgraced as you if I were to return empty handed!"

"You stand alone, and I command an army made up of not only Drow soldiers but also Myconids and constructs. I give you three choices: fight a battle you have no hope of winning, retreat back home with the foolish hope that Quenthel Baenre might have a shred of mercy in her twisted heart, or align yourself with House Desvirr and join our bid to taken Menzoberranzan."

Imydra swallowed hard as she considered her options, eyes darting to the armed guards and the Myconids.

"There will be plenty of opportunities to kill one another later," Sparassis added as they straightened themselves up. "For now I think worked together for a common goal would benefit us all."

Another moment passed slow and heavy before Imydra gave a small nod. "Then I yield. And let it be known that I will be taking everything from you after you conquer Menzoberranzan."

"I would expect nothing less," Minthara answered with a wicked smile. "Now, I'm sure you understand why certain security measures will be necessary to insure that you pose no threat."

Imydra did not object as Sparassis sent the order through their spore for the Myconids to restrain her and lead her to the dungeon. Minthara took long, slow strides toward Dalhar and placed her hands on the child's shoulders to sent a private thought through the spores.

Learn as much about your sister as you can. One day the two of you will be fighting one another for your birthright.

Chapter Text

They were a strange little family gathered around the dinner table. Minthara and Dalhar were properly dressed, bathed, and groomed for a formal dinner. Sparassis had long since given up on bothering with more effort than running their fingers through their hair and wearing clothes that looked clean enough for their standards. Imydra was somewhere in between. She had been let out of confinement and given a gown that once belonged to one of Sparassis's sisters.

The atmosphere was tense and heavy, with all four eating in silence until Minthara set down her fork and cleared her throat to address her older daughter.

"I understand you found Dalhar on the other side of the valley. That's quite a long way from home."

Imydra nodded, but before she spoke a word, Dalhar interrupted. "It wasn't so far when I f…" She suddenly remembered that she still had a secret to keep from her half-sister, so she coughed as if she choked on a mouthful of food and swallowed down a sip of water to enhance the act. "..Found another way across."

Minthara raised an eyebrow. "I would have to hear about this."

"I…well it's not right to say I met him because Imydra killed him quickly, but I saw my uncle, the Drider."

"Oh?" Sparassis sat up a little straighter. "I think that was the only one of my relatives I didn't kill myself."

A slight smile curled onto Minthara's lips as she raised her glass of lichen wine. "Thanks and congratulations are in order. House Desvirr has been eliminated, save for my wife and daughter."

"Mother, you know I didn't come to help you or your half-breed family."

"Of course you didn't." Minthara took a long sip of her wine. "I can still express my gratitude."

Imydra leaned back and watched the others eat and drink with a sly smirk on her face. "You eat with such enthusiasm for one who breaks bread with an enemy. If our roles were reversed, I would fear poison."

"The grafts filter toxins," Sparassis explained. She had less of the inherent paranoia common in the Underdark, but still barely touched the food on her plate. Her reason was more than she found most food unpalatable.

"I'm sure that with research poisons could be developed that could kill the fungus just as readily," Imydra replied.

"And I would be most impressed if you managed to do so under your current confinement," Minthara sighed. "I had a small hope that we might find a common enemy against my own mother and form a tenuous trust, but now that hope is fading."

Dalhar began to chuckle to herself. "Shouldn't have made your intentions known sister," she mumbled. "Damn stupid."

Imydra shot her a sharp look. "Smart mouth for a half-breed child."

"Am I wrong?"

Imydra leaned back and took a deep breath. "You've disgraced yourself further, Mother, to find your new family among half-breeds, a strange wife younger than I am, and to mutilate yourself with fungal growths. I should have all the more glory when I deliver your head to Quenthel Baenre."

"Yes, of course, you keep saying that," Minthara sighed. "I tire to hear of it until you move to action."

Imydra pursed her lips. "Mother, I will submit to whatever restrictions you see fit so I may be alone to scheme."

"Good night, Imydra," Minthara said. "And take little sister's advice to use more discretion."

Dalhar watched her sister be escorted away by a pair of myconids and sank lower in her seat as she let out a long breath, dreading a lecture from her mothers.

"I'm sorry. What I did was…stupid. I was angry and couldn't stand to be at home a moment longer, and it was…stupid."

"You are right about that," Minthara answered with a nod. "Luckily for you I've raised a child before and vividly recall Imydra's violent moods and flights of fancy, as well as my own."

Minthara reached out to take Sparassis's hand and give them a reassuring look. It was only then that Dalhar noticed the pain in their eyes and noted how quiet they had been over dinner.

"I'm lucky, then, that Imydra saw me as a means to find you and not a threat to her birthright. I should go and study, I missed a lot of time while I was away."

She rose kissed her mothers goodnight before she left.

Once she had retreated to her bedroom, Dalhar grabbed Sarleen's book, flopped onto her bed and began her focused study. She waved her hand over the cover the way Sarleen had done, but the book remained unchanged. Dalhar furrowed her brow in frustration as she tried to puzzle out just how to get the book to reveal its secrets. She opened it and began to skim through the pages: nothing but dry history no matter how much she concentrated.

Or maybe it was for the best she hadn't figured out the truck just yet. She senses Sparassis's spores before she heard her mother knock on the door.

"Come in," she called with a frustration sigh. She was in no mood for interruptions.

Sparassis opened the door and stood still with pain in their eyes. They said nothing, but reached out to Dalhar through the spores. There were no solid thoughts, only feelings of fear and regret.

"I already said I know it was wrong to run away," Dalhar said as she crossed her arms. "But I'm still not going to forgive you for lying to me my entire life."

Sparassis looked down and took a heavy breath. "I'm frightened. I don't want to you be like him."

"I already am, aren't I? Some of the time, at least,"

Sparassis shook her head. "It doesn't matter what you look like, even if it was a shock to see. I mean…". She fell silent, searching for words. "I couldn't stand it you started to act like him."

"What do you mean?"

"Devilish."

"Might be unavoidable when that's what I am, Mother!" Dalhar felt rage grow within her. She let herself feel it all, hoping that might spark another transformation.

No more words, just a wave of calming spores that quelled Dalhar's anger. "Mother…I would rather talk later."

With that, Sparassis turned to go.

After the door was closed behind her mother, Dalhar dove back into her book, but still its pages told her nothing. As she went through the pages, Dalhar began to fear that Sarleen had done some sleight of hand to replace the hellish book with a mundane one until the edge of a page made a tiny cut in her fingertip.

With blood on the page, the book glowed and emitted a sense if otherworldly magic. Ink on the page transformed to tell of rites and rituals with magic and components far beyond Dalhar's imagination. She flipped through the pages, and what grabbed her attention was a chapter on common devils and their abilities: eldritch magic, the ability to harvest and bind souls, and to command lesser devils. Did she have these very powers at her fingertips?

Chapter Text

Sparassis's mind was still set on her daughter. Dalhar holed herself away in her room: refusing to come out and insisting that she was unwell, yet Sparassis didn't sense anything out of the ordinary from her spores. She didn't know how to handle it, but there was business to attend to.

She stood beside Minthara, who had a steadying hand on her shoulder. She didn't send thoughts through their spores, but instilled in her wife a sense of brave confidence. It worked: Sparassis could hold space to acknowledge that this meeting with Toobin might go poorly, but she didn't feel fearful about such an outcome.

"I take it you understand why I wanted to set aside time to speak to you."

"Matron, my apologies. I know it looks like little progress has been made…"

"You made a promise you've failed to see through." Sparassis spoke, but they were thoughts that came from Minthara. She took a little breath, glad for the support but determined to do this on her own. "Gortash was right about these things needing flesh, I see that now."

"Matron, I cannot allow it…."

"I'm not going to start mass executions or anything. We're in the midst of war, a war you agreed to participate in, we already have casualties, why not put their bodies to use?"

"A difficult point to argue against, but it still doesn't seem right."

"Flesh is flesh. I was raised by Myconids, we used corpses and dead animals for many different ends. If anything it seems more disrespectful to a person to let them rot and turn to dust."

"And the infernal engine?"

"Years of failure showed us that we may not be able to compromise there either." Now Sparassis felt a little twinge of fear. She looked to Minthara for encouragement, nervous for the promise she was about to make . "And let Dalhar help you once she's feeling better. She might not yet know much, but I think the chance to learn would lift her spirits."

"Matron." Small though he was, Toobin stood proud and had the presence to fill the room. "I can't abandon my principles simply because you aren't getting the results you hoped for."

"Zanner Toobin," Minthara began. "Understand that as a wife and mother I would hate to have to coerce you and your people by threatening your families, but if my hand is forced, Enver Gortash will look tame by comparison."

"I…understand." His bold bravado was gone, and he was damn near cowering. "It will be done, and quickly to make up for so much lost time." He gave a gracious bow before he set to work.

"I'm going to tell Dalhar the news," Minthara said with a quick kiss. "This was the right choice."

Minthara knocked on Dalhar's door. "May I speak to you? I have news that may improve your mood."

"Come in." Dalhar didn't sound the least bit sick or even tired.

Minthara opened the door and saw that her daughter wasn't ill at all. Instead, she was transformed: a cambion again, powerful to behold yet still with a slight slump in her shoulders that revealed her to still be an awkward child.

"Young one, you have no reason to hide away and feel shame for what you are. You are beautiful and powerful."

"I'm not ashamed." She tried to stand a little taller and puffed out her chest. "But I think it would be for the best if my sister thinks I'm nothing more than a normal girl.

Minthara smiled, her heart swelling with pride. Her child already knew to think strategically. "A wise move, and your true abilities would give her quite the surprise when you face one another in battle."

"I…I'm not sure, but I don't think I can be harmed in this plane." She looked down and stole a quick glance at a book on the desk. "Please don't tell Sparassis that I've been studying and practicing."

Minthara reached out to hold her hand. "I won't, but I do believe they may come around. It was their idea, after all, for you to study infernal engines with the Gondians."

"You're serious?" Dalhar grinned. Such a bright, young talent. "I thought they hated all that."

"Trust that her concern is your safety. Sparassis has firsthand knowledge with the hazards of the hells."

"I haven't been unsafe, though!"

Minthara gave her a knowing look. "Perfectly safe, child, to fly out the window and spend a night alone in the Underdark."

Dalhar hung her head and blushed in embarrassment. "Won't be doing that again….Sparassis hates devils, doesn't she?"

"Dalhar…". Minthara's voice was firm yet gentle. "Your mother was badly hurt by a devil. Two of our dear friends were hurt by devils and coerced into an eternity fighting in Avernus, she has her reasons."

Dalhar said nothing, but simply crossed to the window and looked out at the valley. "Don't worry, I'm not thinking about flying away, but I don't think wish I had the space to practice."

"I think that can be accommodated, and likely in a way that keeps your secret from Imydra."

Dalhar didn't want to waste a moment when she still had no control of her transformation. With Minthara's assurance that Sparassis wouldn't be upset that she lied about feeling unwell, she took to the garden.a few strong beats of her bat-like wings lifted her into the air, and Sparassis kept her nervous eyes fixed in her child.

"Careful, please!" They begged. "if you fall…"

"if I fall, I'm more able to save myself than you are," Dalhar taunted as she flapped her wings to fly higher. Her flight was erratic and awkward, like a toddler still learning how to walk.

Minthara placed a steadying hand on Sparassis's shoulder and sent them a thought:

We need to move on Menzoberranzan soon.

Sparassis's eyes were fixed on her daughter flying in air, but she glanced briefly to Minthara.

We're a long way from being ready.

"Do you truly believe Imydra will be the only assassin House Baenre sends for me?"

Sparassis blinked. All these machinations were far beyond their ken.

"Our army isnt enough to take Menzoberranzan and won't be for years."

"I don't plan to wage war yet, but instead to speak to my mother and make it clear that we will not take threats lightly.We don't need an army yet, just a handful to serve as honor guard. I imagine the Gondians will be able to accomplish this quickly."

Sparassis looked down at the ground. "And Dalhar stays behind alone?"

"Not alone. She will be with the Gondians, and possibly able to help them in the efforts. I have been considering contacting the human wizard, and Imydra…"

"Imydra wants to kill her!"

"Imydra wants to kill me but may be clever enough to know that I make a bettter ally than enemy."

Sparassis said nothing as she watched her daughter fly. And make her way—inelegantly—to the ground. She managed to land on her feet, but lost her balance and tripped a moment later.

"Flying isn't so hard, but landing…" As Dalhar stood and brushed herself off her body transformed back. "And I hate that I have no control over when that happens!"

"I cannot imagine your frustration," Minthara answered with a small nod. "But if it would improve your mood, you may go and help the Gondians."

Dalhar's face lit up with a bright smile before she turned and sprinted away. Minthara watched her go before she gave Sparassis a quick peck on the cheek.

"Im going to speak to Imydra. I have a few ideas to help convince her to join us against my mother."

In a sense, Minthara was pleasantly surprised that the dungeon held Imydra. She had never made use of this place since eliminating Sparassis's family.

Even when imprisoned, Imydra held herself with bold dignity. She would not be broken; Minthara had raised her well.

"Imydra." Minthara spoke in a bold, business-like tone and stood tall with her hands clasped behind her back. "I am willing to ease your restrictions if you make yourself my ally."

"Yes, mother, you've mentioned that before," she sighed.

"But I have given more thought to how I can make the agreement more favorable for you. I want to make you the general of my army, to give you the means to claim glory. Generations from now, when children learn of the fall of House Baenre they will hear the names not only of the women who claimed the throne but also of the one who led their army."

Imydra's eyes opened wide as she stepped forward. "You trust me with quite a lot, Mother."

"I trust you with a task I know you are competent enough to handle, and I trust you to have sense enough to see that this is the only reasonable option."

"Then I'll command your army, Mother."

Minthara smiled as a wicked glint lit up her eye. Daughter and granddaughter rising up against House Baenre, there was something lovely about it.

Chapter Text

"I don't see why Mother would trust a male, and a human wizard." Imydra scoffed. Despite her distaste for the whole situation, she was still dressed in her best and ready to greet the guest.

Sparassis felt better about leaving her child (and Minthara's possibly murderous older daughter) with a trusted friend staying over to mind the house. The trouble was…who? No one in the Underdark could be trusted, and while they had a fair few friends from their fight against the Absolute, most of them were far flung across the Planes. Wyll and Karlach were in Avernus, Lae'zel was in the Astral Plane. Word was sent to Gale and Shadowheart, and of course they traveled with Tara in tow.

"If you can't be pleasant, at least keep your mouth shut," Sparassis whispered in a hiss.

"Taking orders from a half-breed," Imydra mumbled as she rolled her eyes.

"And as Matron Mother of the House, I still have the authority to put you back in the dungeon even if it goes against Minthara's wishes."

Imydra had no more harsh words. She hung back and seethed as Sparassis gave her old friends a warm welcome.

"Gale! Shadowheart!" Sparassis's eyes lit up, and she grinned as she gave them each a hug and a kiss. "Can you believe it's already been twelve years?"

"Hardly," Gale answered. "And this one was just a little baby." Dalhar stepped closer and smiled politely. She was trying very hard to look and behave refined and grown-up. "I hear that you have quite a love of learning, so I took it upon myself to bring a full selection of books for you."

"And several dozen for his own study," Shadowheart teased before she turned to Imydra. "And you're Minthara's other daughter? Imydra was it?"

"I am her only daughter, the rightful heir of House Baenre, and I would like to know what else Mother told you about me."

"I only mentioned your existence," Minthara sighed. "I had hoped that as commander of my army you would see the value in at least attempting to cooperate."

While they spoke, Tara cautiously peeked out from behind Gale, and Dalhar dropped her "very much grown up" act and crouched down to the ground with a hand outreached to beckon the creature closer. "Oh, look! Come here kitty kitty! Pspspsps."

The Tresshym cocked her head. "My name is Tara, not Kitty."

"Oh…" Dalhar shrank back. "Sorry."

"Dalhar, why don't you stay and get to know Tara for a bit?" Sparassis suggested. "Minthara and I have a lot to discuss with Gale and Shadowheart."

"Imydra, you should be a part of this as well," Minthara added.

Dalhar rose to her feet and tried to follow them, but they ignored her and were well down the hall. She turned and sighed dramatically before she sat on the floor in front of Tara.

"Can you believe them?" Another sigh. "Leaving me out because they don't think I'm important enough!"

"Oh, I wouldn't take it personally. They're probably talking about their war efforts, and there can't be much for a child to contribute."

"I can though! If they knew…" Dalhar stopped herself and let out a long breath. Her eyes went to Tara's wings. "Can you fly?"

With a few beats of her wings Tara floated from the ground and flourished her demonstration with a graceful flip. "Does that answer your question?"

Dalhar's eyes lit up. "There might be something you can help me with…but you have to promise to not tell the Wizard."

"Well," Gale began. The group was gathered around the banquet table. "Your missives were quite detailed. I suppose the first question is if there were any details you meant to be left until we spoke in person, or any updates since the letter was penned."

"Our intent was not to be secretive," Minthara began. "But I imagine even you, Wizard, can understand why Sparassis and I choose not to divulge every secret. Your involvement is indirect at best."

Gale and Shadowheart shared a thoughtful look "Of course."

"I have command of our conscripted troops," Imydra added. Her chest was puffed out with pride. "And the Steel Watchers, once they are ready in full force."

"Right now we've only enough Watchers for an honor guard to come with us to Menzoberranzan," Sparassis explained.

"And, am I to understand that these are the same Steel Watchers that Enver Gortash devloped?" Shadowheart asked with trepidation. "Created in the same way and everything?"

"If there was any other way, we would have had this conversation twelve years ago," Minthara explained with a beleaguered sigh.

Shadowheart and Gale exchanged a concerned look.

"The door is open if you don't wish to stay," Sparassis added. "I'm not asking you to actively take part in our war, only to supervise our home in our absence and make sure our children don't kill one another."

"I…" Shadowheart began. "I still don't care for how the watchers are made."

"Executed criminals and war causalities." Minthara explained. "The constructs may be filled with corpses and piloted by their brains, but we drew the line at creating more corpses for this purpose."

"Well, that's mildly reassuring." Shadowheart shook her head. "Very mildly."

"A dead body is nothing more than meat," Sparassis added. "I spent the first twenty years of my life seeing my Myconid family making use of flesh once the life had left it. This is no different."

"Understand that I mean no offense, but I saw that as horribly off putting too…" She looked to Gale for reassurance.

Gale let out a long, slow breath. "Well, I don't terribly like the idea either. But if there's no real…harvesting going on. I may not agree that a dead person's body is simply…flesh…"

"Wizard, speak clearly, do we have your cooperation or not?" Imydra pressed.

"I'll gladly be a teacher to your younger child, and even the older one if she's willing to learn from a human male wizard." He teased Imydra with a wink.

"And we will both happily manage the household, but the war effort we leave to the three of you."

"Fair enough," Imydra offered. "Wouldn't trust outsiders with something so important anyway."