Hello to readers both new and old (though I'm assuming most of you have followed me here from other projects). This is a project I've worked on for a while, and I'm happy to share it here.

I initially wanted this to be the backstory for a D&D character I had in mind, but it's sort of bloomed into its own tale entirely. Specifically, this guy is a human Pact of the Fiend Warlock. Don't worry if you aren't a roleplaying nut like I am; that stuff isn't very important to this. If you are, feel free to use this story as inspiration! What most of you probably are interested in is the romance. As the summary says, it's Male Human X Female Ultroloth (his eventual patron). They look kind of like the Protoss from StarCraft, but Google it for a clearer picture.

Also, I'm thinking about ending the story with a lemon. Without giving anything away, the story ends with sex implied, but I could tack on a chapter that describes the actual scene; it'd be good practice, so I might get to that at some point. Regardless, I really hope you guys enjoy this unexpected break from my regular programming, but this being done will hopefully let me progress faster on Ordination.

…

Dreg's head spun as he lay on the floor, drenched in his own vomit.

He didn't know up from down or left from right or even how he got here. The only things he comprehended were pain and heat. The former hardly surprised him considering the bumps and welts throbbing across his body, but the latter was less explicable. Only minutes ago, he was freezing cold, lost in the blizzard of the century.

Now a febrile torridness scalded his back through the grimy stone floor. Almost felt like he was in a sauna, but this was a very dry heat.

I… was going from Waterdeep to Neverwinter. Had to cross the Sword Mountains.

He must have passed out and some kindly soul took him into their home. And left him uncomfortably close to the hearth. Wait.

His vision sloshed back into focus as more memories resurged. There were… bugs. Giant bugs. And they took him! Shooting up, his heart raced, and his eyes darted around. He lay in a dingy cell. Bones and ash littered the ground, barely visible in the sooty torchlight. Oh gods. He staggered back, mind trying to piece together what horrible fate befell him. Was he captured by some evil sorcerer? Witches? The world was full of evil entities who preyed on the innocent. As he turned around, though, he nearly fainted. The truth was far worse than any of his guesses.

A small window provided a portal from his cell to the world beyond. Except it wasn't his world at all.

Glowing volcanos and calderas boiled off into infinity, belching noxious steam into the black, starless sky. Meanwhile, red rivers cut through the jagged grey rock. Maybe they were blood. If so, they were the only sign of life for miles and miles. Dreg tried to scream, but all that emerged was a terrified croak. He slipped to the scorching floor, shivering despite the great heat.

This was Hell. Well, maybe not the literal Nine Hells of Baator. Might have been the Abyss or perhaps Hades. He didn't know enough about the Lower Planes to discern which, but it was one of them. Even a worthless tailor like himself could see that plain as day. And that made him a dead man walking.

He buried his head in his hands and wept, though the tears evaporated as they wove through his stubble. It's hot as Hell in Hell. He let out a strained guffaw at his awful pun before he lapsed back into bawling. Not like he had much to live for – no significant other or siblings, and his parents died long ago. Nobody would miss him, yet there was no worse fate he could imagine than being tortured or eaten by fiends.

Did I get captured by Devils or Demons? he mused, wondering about how he'd die. The former were more likely to flay him alive for their own perverted pleasures while the latter might just want a nice meal. That was the impression he'd gotten from hearsay and the priests, at least; Devils were smarter and more sadistic while Demons were the locusts of the Lower Planes. He didn't know from personal experience… though he would soon enough.

A couple minutes of crying later, and he was on the cusp of vomiting again. Before he could, however, chattering and clanking echoed down the hall, followed by the pungent stenches of sulfur and incense. His heart sank; all he could do now was pray to the gods for a quick death… if they even heard him here. He'd never been a particularly religious man, but this was his final chance to reach out to the divines.

The sounds and smells increased, and a fiendish entourage strode up to his cage. They disgusted him, yes, but mostly he was… confused. The terror in his gut morphed into bewilderment.

He'd always heard that Devils and Demons were red-skinned humanoids with horns, tails and leathery wings. There were different species, of course, but none of these creatures even approached that description. Most of them resembled gigantic insects, possessing many limbs studding chitinous hides, as well as dead yellow eyes. Still scary as fuck, but he was confused for long enough to notice what he supposed was their superior.

He was a humanoid jackal dressed in fine purple robes. He almost thought nothing of it – Aarakocra, Dragonborn, Tabaxi and plenty of other races that resembled anthropomorphic animals existed, so this thing didn't stick out too much. The hungry grin plastered on his face betrayed the evil within, though. For several moments, he and the jackal-man stared at each other while Dreg shivered. How can he stand having so much fur here?

Then the fiendish canine growled something in a dark, twisted tongue. He didn't understand the language in the slightest, but he doubted they meant anything good.

"W-what?" he whispered. "I only speak Common."

His captor cleared his throat before speaking again. "You will come with us. Resist, and you will die." The words stabbed him with their icy grip despite the great heat.

He had no objections; better to get this over with. Therefore, he was a good little mortal as the insectoid abominations unlocked the iron bar, hoisted him up and dragged him away. Their noxious odors made him retch, which earned inhuman chuckles from the lot of them. He really needed a miracle right now, or perhaps a party of adventurers.

He'd always rolled his eyes at those few people who, blessed with great power, thought they could make the world a better place. How could they hope to combat such monsters? Now, however, he wanted nothing more than a band of heroes to harrow Hell and haul his ass out of there. That was a childish fantasy, though. The only thing left in his soon-to-end life would be pain. After that, hopefully he'd been a good enough person to get into Mount Celestia or any of the Upper Planes.

Unless… His heart sank. If he died here, would his soul be trapped here, too?! The thought of wandering this wasteland for all eternity nearly made him have a stroke, though he snapped out of his funk when he remembered the death his captor promised for a single wrong move.

Therefore, he merely shivered and softly cried as he was dragged through the halls of this seemingly endless prison. It confused him why it was so large, considering barely anyone else was here. The few filled celled were occupied by either more of the insectoid monsters or green-skinned, winged creatures that resembled ogres. All barked and chattered at him in their strange tongue as he passed, rattling the bars. They laughed. That was very bad.

Eventually, they reached a narrow flight of stairs carved into black stone that led upward. With a spear in his back, he began to climb. All the noxious fumes began to make his head spin, but he managed to reach the top. He wasn't sure whether to beg for death or hope they showed some semblance of mercy, however far-fetched that possibility was.

He then emerged into a grand hallway, complete with lavish designs and rich gilding on the ceiling. This must have been some sort of infernal palace. How lucky he was to be personally sacrificed to Asmodeus or something. The jackal strode in front of him and coldly pointed forward. Dreg marched with iron legs. It felt like he perpetually travelled uphill, though he wasn't sure whether that was an actual feature of this hellish plane or simply a product of his addled mind.

Still held at spearpoint, he staggered into what was apparently a throne room. The left and right sides lacked walls, allowing for a view that would have been beautiful if he was insane. What other kind of creature could stand to gaze upon a dead world burning? Speaking of which, it felt even hotter in here. He knew hot air rose, so that made some sense. Drenched in sweat, he stumbled forward and collapsed before the throne. Fortunately, it appeared that was where he was supposed to be.

The bugs stayed put, but the jackal walked forward and stood alongside the golden chair… which he now realized wasn't empty. No, on it sat a creature the likes of which he'd never seen.

Like the jackal, it was dressed in purple robes befitting royalty, yet that was where the similarities ended. It glared at him with opaque golden eyes, the only features on its "face", which lacked a mouth or nose. Its smooth gray skin looked moist and cool despite the immense heat. It would have appeared human from a distance, but there was no mistaking it for one up close. Dreg felt its gaze cut through his soul. People said looks couldn't kill, yet he fully expected this one to.

"Your slave, my lady," the jackal obsequiously said. Said in Common. It wanted him to know his place. Well, he supposed he'd rather be a slave than killed. Didn't bring him much comfort as the monster, apparently a woman, rose from her throne and silently padded down to him. Her gaze never let up for a single moment as she circled him like a butcher inspecting meat.

"He looks weak," she replied after a moment. It took several more for him to realize it was her who had spoken. The words came out despite the lack of a mouth, and her voice was far less guttural than that of her… vizier, or whatever the jackal-man was.

"Rest assured, Lady Sya, this human is among the hardiest of his race. He will make for a fine laborer."

What? He would have been offended if not so baffled. What was the jackal getting at? He wasn't a complete weakling, but the "hardiest of his race"? Uh, no. Maybe he was just really lazy and ended up kidnapping the first thing he came across on the Material Plane. Still, he supposed it was for the best that this fate fell to him. Most people would have family or friends who would wonder forever what happened. The people who would grieve him the most were those he owed money.

"For your sake, Grizk, he'd better be." Grizk tucked his tail between his legs and stalked off, leaving just him, her and the bugs. The silence was only broken by volcanoes erupting in the distance.

Turning to the monster, Dreg asked the questions that weighed on him since all this began. Hopefully it'd tell him that much if he was really going to be here for eternity. "What the fuck are you, and where is this?"

The thing stood up straight and crossed her arms under her breasts (why a fiend needed those was anyone's guess). "Firstly, mortal, you will address me as 'mistress', or 'Lady Sya', if you prefer. Are we clear?" He gritted his teeth and nodded, an act that filled him with shame and shook dozens of sweat beads from his dripping hair that spattered the floor.

"Good. You, mortal, are in the Bleak Eternity of Gehenna." A fitting name, indeed. "The first layer, Khalas, to be precise. And we…" She gestured to the bugs, Grizk (who now lurked in the background) and then herself, "are Yugoloths."

At first, he thought Sya was pulling his leg. "Yugoloths?" Seriously? What kind of word was that? Then he recalled hazy memories of the name; just stuff he learned at the temples on holidays or from wandering priests when he came across them. They were apparently a race of neutral evil fiends, often overshadowed by the Devils and Demons that straddled them in terms of morality. They were the mercenaries and businesspeople of the Lower Planes, pitting their kin against each other to consolidate power.

And now he was their slave. He glowered at the floor. The only positive to it was that he had all the time in the world to escape… or die trying.

"Your first task is to clean up that sweat you got on the floor." Damn. Something told him he'd be doing that a lot.

…

"Lady Sya said she wanted the floor spotless! I still see spots!" the Mezzoloth clicked at him. Dreg would have punched the bug if he didn't fear its superhuman strength… and if his hands weren't worked raw from constantly scrubbing floors and walls.

Grunting, he again dipped the rag into the bucket filled with the red water of the River Styx, sneakily dabbed away some sweat and got back to making the marble shine. Then he lapsed back into contemplation, the only thing that made this servitude even slightly bearable.

He'd been there for about a week, or so he thought. The hours passed differently without a sun or moon; the sky outside stayed eternally black while only lava flows lit the dead world. He merely counted the number of times he'd been allowed to sleep, which he figured were Gehenna's equivalent of night. Hell, maybe time actually flowed differently here, and it'd only been a couple of minutes or many decades in the Material Plane!

Anyway, there were four main species of Yugoloth, as far as he could tell. The most common were Mezzoloths, like the one yelling at him. They were warriors, builders, spies and so on. Ogre-looking Nycaloths were the next rung on the ladder – elite soldiers and blacksmiths: "the arms of Gehenna", he'd heard some say. There were quite a few around. Then came Arcanaloths like Grizk. As the name implied, they were sorcerers, scholars and diplomats that were experts in matters magical. Besides Grizk, who was the queen's toady, he only saw a few of these bookish creatures as they scuttled about. Other minor types existed, as well, but he hadn't seen any.

And finally, Ultroloths. Sya was one of these overlords of the Yugoloths; princely beings that ruled their race with iron fists. He was tempted to be disgusted, but frankly, the mortal world wasn't much better with its kings and despots. It's not like he had a say in how his life went; the adventurers he fantasized about could topple monsters but not ancient social norms. Might have suited the fiendish temperament better, actually. Anyway, he'd heard in passing that Sya's caste was incredibly rare – their number was probably in the double digits. That made him one of only a few mortals to ever lay eyes on one. Lucky fucking me. I got to see a creepy gray monster.

A couple more swipes and the floor was done. He turned back to see the hallway a sparkling white. Honestly, the job wouldn't be too bad if he wasn't the only slave here – his guess was that they didn't want to risk multiple mortals being together and risk a mutiny, or maybe it was more fun to torture people one at a time. Despite being a whole castle, the Yugoloths themselves were quite tidy; not much to clean up. He stared at the Mezzoloth for a moment, woozy and fully expecting another job to be thrust upon him.

Instead, it reached into a bag and pulled out a pink, segmented worm-like creature about a foot long. Dreg's mouth watered the moment he saw it, and his stomach growled. He always forgot how hungry this work made him. "Would you like a snack?"

He nodded enthusiastically, heeling like a dog. And the Mezzoloth realized the same thing. "Then bark for me, dog," it clicked at him, mandibles somehow forming a smile. "Bark and I'll give you a treat."

Dreg's face burned from both shame and the great heat this realm exuded. This was the most degraded he'd ever felt! Still, he needed to savor every scrap of food he could get his hands on, plus playing the part might sedate his captors and aid his (eventual) escape. Therefore, he yipped, hands clenching into fists as he did so.

"Good boy," the bug remarked. It tossed him the larva and grabbed him by the arm as he began to chow down. As he'd quickly found out, larvae were the only food in Gehenna – the souls of the evilest mortals, reincarnated into the form of maggots to sustain greater fiends.

At first, the thought of consuming former humans, elves, dwarves and so on made him queasy; that was cannibalism! He'd quickly acclimated to it, though; these things were no longer sapient and, frankly, he was starving. By this point, it barely bothered him when he put the writhing creature's head into his mouth and chomped down into the thick, slimy flesh. Tasted a bit like hagfish – not his favorite food, but at least a flavor he recognized.

He'd just polished off the morsel when the Mezzoloth dragged him into the throne room, immediately making Dreg drag his heels; he always hated coming here. Sya's iron gaze as he cleaned made him… uneasy, though he supposed that was par for the course with beings literally coalesced from the universe's evil. That wasn't a concern this time, though, for her attention was turned elsewhere.

Three strange creatures knelt at the bottom of the marble steps leading to her golden dais. His heart leapt; more mortals! He was overjoyed, a feeling that quickly turned to disgust. How dare he be excited that more people would suffer just because he wanted some company?! Fortunately, he realized upon closer inspection that they were merely unfamiliar fiends.

On the left was a beast that resembled a wyvern or small dragon, only coated from head to foot in wickedly sharp spines that dripped some foul liquid – more than likely poison. At first, he recoiled at the prospect of having to clean up after it, yet the bile evaporated after only a few seconds. On the right was a fiend that looked as close to normal as he could find. He would have mistaken her for a human woman were it not for the red, feathery wings growing from her back.

Between them was a ten-foot-long cobalt blue praying mantis that greatly resembled a Mezzoloth. This one was his favorite, but only because it radiated an aura of cold that drew him nearer like a moth to flame. Would have hugged it if not for his handler, who looked… almost concerned. Such apprehension coming from such a monster gave him pause, as well.

Therefore, they waited around twenty feet away as Sya and her guests parlayed. He couldn't tell what, for he didn't speak Infernal – the language of the Yugoloths and Devils, he'd learned, as opposed to Abyssal-speaking Demons.

They're Devils, he thought. Still don't look as cliché as I expected.

This continued for a few minutes with Grizk lurking in the background as usual. He couldn't even gauge the conversation's tone, for everything sounded threatening in Infernal and none of them really had faces that he could interpret. His best windows were Sya's eyes, which emoted what he assumed were positive sentiments. All Dreg could really do was listen to the chatter and watch a caldera belch reams of fire in the distance while he sweated.

Eventually, the Devils stood up, bowed and turned around, finally noticing him as they did. They turned to each other and whispered with alien mouths while he sweated bullets.

"That is a fine slave," the frozen insectoid Devil remarked to Sya; again, it wanted him to know his inferiority. "How much for him? Asmodeus hungers for souls."

His eyes flew to Sya, who looked at him with her cold, golden ovals. He hated her and this life, but at least he wasn't dead! At least he had hope here, petty as it was. Weak and pathetic, he silently pleaded for his life… but the answer never seemed to be in doubt.

"Dreg is an excellent servant, indeed. I would be loath to part with him so soon." He silently sighed in relief, though the fact he was treated as a mere commodity hardly escaped him. Honestly, though, he was shocked she remembered his name. The Devils seemed irked that she rejected their offer, yet they nevertheless waved farewell and walked out of the building, going back to whatever realm they hailed from. Gehenna seemed infinite from this perspective, yet he knew it must have ended at some point and given way to others. "Give Rottuz my regards. I hope to see him soon and finalize these arrangements."

"Uh, who are they, Lady Sya?" he asked once they'd moved far enough away.

From her throne, she replied, "Emissaries from the Pit Fiend Rottuz. He's an old ally and wants me to allow his troops passage through my kingdom. The Blood War's front lines are less than a week's journey away." Hard to believe the most infamous conflict in the cosmos raged so near. Devils and Demons had fought it since the dawn of time; he idly wondered whether the Lower Planes used to be more pleasant before they were wracked by the eternal feud. Regardless, he was grateful to not be any closer.

"They've visited several times to pay me tribute." She gestured to something in her lap that he hadn't noticed before: an amulet. A strap of leather was looped around what appeared to be a black diamond. Despite its crude craftsmanship, it was beautiful, and the stone looked precious even by the standards of this plane. "Pretty, don't you think?" He enthusiastically nodded, wondering if this was some kind of sadistic trap. "You're trying too hard, human." The words made him seize up, and he gazed with fear into Sya's golden oblong eyes, desperately trying to puzzle her mood through the stoic, empty face.

She was about to say something when Grizk popped seemingly out of nowhere, making him jump a foot in the air from how tightly wound he was. Sya chuckled, her eyes smiling despite the lack of a mouth. Forget talking. How does she eat?

"Is the human bothering you, mistress?" he asked as innocently as he could… though the façade was hardly convincing. "I can have him flogged, if you wish. If we dealt with Demons instead of Devils, they could just eat him."

"Nothing so harsh, Grizk – I try to be more civilized than most of our kin." The fact they still spoke Common once again assured him that these words were meant for him, too. Though he supposed Sya meant them to be comforting, they made him grimace. Yeah, it was so fucking civilized of her to just enslave him instead of adding beatings or cannibalism to that. Didn't matter if she was one of the better fiends he could have ended up in the "employ" of; she was still literally evil incarnate. "But it is rather late. High time for Dreg to return to his cell. And do not speak to me of Demons again; we have discussed this before."

No sooner had she said this than several Mezzoloths surrounded him and begun dragging him back to the prisons with the criminals. "Try to get a good sleep!" she shouted after him. "You'll be busy tomorrow, as always." The words made him want to scream.

…

More days passed. It had been three or four sleep cycles since the Devils visited, Dreg thought, though he couldn't be sure. Time was clay down here, and the immense heat of this kiln hadn't yet solidified it.

Slumped against the wall of his cell, he gnawed on a half-dead larva while going over his tattered clothes with a needle and thread. Those were the only things in his pockets when taken, and he was sure to use them now. A tenday of hard labor really wore his garments thin, so now it fell to him to patch them up; he doubted they had any outfits in his size and shape.

He took another bite of the giant maggot before straining his eyes and working the needle into a hole. He'd always envied the darkvision so many other races possessed; would have been handy in this realm of eternal gloom. Still, the volcanoes were particularly active that day, so more firelight entered his small window than usual (along with an uptick in foul fumes).

A cacophony of footfalls clanked closer: Grizk and his Mezzoloth minions. They came to get him every day like clockwork, though the number of bugs dipped significantly as of late. Hopefully that meant his docile ruse worked and that they'd soon think him an indoctrinated eunuch who couldn't possibly escape. Well, maybe he couldn't, but he'd still give it a shot once he worked out a plan… which was still a ways off.

Sure enough, the jackal and two insects plodded up to the cage where he continued to sew. Just a few more stitches, he thought, annoyed at how his new calluses made fine needlework more difficult. Not like he was ever a great tailor, but he thought himself adequate.

"What are you doing?" Grizk asked, more confused than angry.

"Mending my clothes. Maybe you can make them out of thin air, but I have to work for it." The sound of rattling bars made him realize perhaps he shouldn't have been so insubordinate!

"Backtalk me again and I will vivisect you, human. I rarely get chances to." Dreg's mouth sealed, and he was led at spearpoint past the others (jailed for things apparently too heinous for even fiends and awaiting execution) for another day of hard labor.

Same old, same old. He swept the entrance, cleaned up shed fur from Arcanaloths and wiped fine ashen dust from surfaces until they sparkled. It was all muscle memory by this point, so he mostly operated on autopilot while formulating his grand escape plan. Nothing came. Getting out of the castle would be easy enough, but he'd die almost immediately if he wandered into the explosive wastes. Even if he could survive, he couldn't exactly walk back to the Material Plane. He wasn't exactly sure how cosmology worked (the models had shifted three or four times since he was born), but even he knew that much.

He must have gotten there, somehow, though. Be it by portal or spell, exploring this infernal fortress was really his only chance of ever leaving. Therefore, he subtly poked around while his handlers watched, though the only pieces of writing he found, he couldn't read. OK, what parts of the fortress haven't I been to? Hard to say, as he didn't know the layout. Been to the kitchen and dining room and foyers. There weren't any bathrooms because these things apparently didn't produce excrement, thank gods.

These thoughts continued until he reached Sya's opulent throne room, where she reclined on the uncomfortable looking seat. That's all he ever saw her do. As he bent down to brush up some crumbs, he almost felt sorry for this queen of Gehenna. What good was ruling over a kingdom of stone and fire? The Devils and Demons at least found purpose in their pointless Blood War, but Sya looked bored. That's when he realized that cold glaze over her eyes might be just as much from lethargy as malice.

Also explained why she watched him so closely – he was probably the most interesting thing to happen to her in months. He shivered as he passed her throne on the way to a small pile of dirt, internally pleading that she wouldn't speak to him. No such luck.

"Dreg," she addressed him, making him stop in his tracks. "Come here."

He whirled around and did as commanded. "Yes, mistress?" Grizk stood next to her, of course, sly as ever. A wormy smile was emblazoned on his smug muzzle.

"Grizk tells me you insulted him earlier. Is this true?" His heart sank, and he knew he couldn't deny the truth. His big fucking mouth and cockiness led to his death… though he supposed that would come regardless.

"I – I may have let my temper get the better of me," he choked out, desperately trying not to cry. It was fairly successful, as he'd been inoculated to bad circumstances over the past days, but a few tears still slipped out.

Sya leaned back and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "He also tells me that you are a tailor."

What? Both him and Grizk stared at her, absolutely baffled. "Um, yes. I am."

"Excellent. Then as punishment, you shall make me a new outfit."

Dreg's jaw dropped to the floor. Was this some kind of joke?! If she was going to kill him, she could at least dispense with the humor. From the glint in her umber eyes, however, he could tell she spoke seriously. Grizk didn't take it so well. "M-my lady! Surely you can't be – "

She reached a four-fingered hand up and clamped his muzzle shut without even deigning to turn her head. "Your counsel is noted, vizier. Now go oversee the Nycaloths." Letting go, Grizk shuffled away with his tail between his legs, drawing the laughter of a couple Mezzoloths that he promptly glared daggers at. Magical lightning crackled in his palms, quieting them down.

Sya gently shook her head as Grizk stalked out of sight. "Come with me," she said, standing up and walking to a door behind the throne guarded by several Mezzoloths and Nycaloths – her personal quarters, he guessed. Just approaching all these things intimidated him.

"I wish to show the human my chambers," she said to the hesitant fiends, who clearly weren't used to such behavior. Nevertheless, they let them pass, beginning to chatter to each other when the two were nearly out of earshot. He didn't need to speak the language to know they told sex jokes or whatever the Yugoloth equivalent was. They have genders, but how do they reproduce? he wondered before quickly recognizing that he didn't want to know.

Carved marble gave way to granite spiral stairs as they progressed, which surprised him. He assumed her inner sanctum would be even more opulent than the things she let everyone else see. His attention was soon drawn to the heat. Hot air still rose in Gehenna, and beads of sweat formed as the temperature climbed by degrees. His body acclimated to the scorching heat of the main floor, but now the process started all over again!

Honestly, he was jealous of Sya's alien physiology. She seemed to enjoy the heat; her skin glistened with a thin coating of slime that wasn't even close to evaporating, and he would have touched it if she weren't, again, evil incarnate. Huffing and puffing, he reached the top of the stairs and doubled over. A small window was set into an alcove and an ebony door waited at the end of a corridor. Other thresholds studded both walls along the way.

"I forget how fragile mortals are," she said, looking at him with what almost approached concern.

"Yeah, shocked I'm not dead yet," he muttered as he caught his breath. "Why not get a Mezzoloth to clean up? They're stronger and more durable than I am." He'd always meant to ask that when they had a moment to themselves. They seemed happy to do anything else she asked of them, plus she didn't have to be concerned about their loyalty.

"You're intelligent, human, yet you don't understand my species. We are a proud race, and menial labor is… beneath us. We are physically incapable of such." Wow. A spark of empathy kindled in his chest for this inhuman woman. At first, he thought the Yugoloths evil and cold. Maybe their hostility was less from malice and more from their very nature. Yes, they were evil, but it wasn't their fault. They never had a choice in the matter, and it also made it so that they couldn't do many of the tasks he took for granted. "You pity me," she remarked.

"I do."

Her gaze hardened. "You shouldn't. Our pride makes us strong, as it does for all fiends. Perhaps you mortals could accomplish more in your own petty lives if you set morality aside."

"Ethics are what make people and society function. Without them, the Material Plane might look like this." He gestured out the small window at a world on fire. For a moment, he didn't care what consequences his words wrought. They were truth, and Sya recognized it.

She cringed, something strange for such a regal creature to do. "Your insolence would merit punishment if you weren't so good at your job," she muttered.

You could always kidnap someone else, Dreg would have replied if he didn't fear she actually would. Shaking, Sya pushed the door open to reveal her private quarters. They didn't exactly make his jaw drop.

A simple, if large, bed stood against one wall while a small vanity and sitting area occupied the middle. Some other things, too, such as a collection of trinkets and baubles (including the amulet she'd received the other day), yet it was far more spartan than he expected from a queen of Gehenna. Despite the pomp surrounding her in the throne room, complete with a toady, loyal guards and groveling visitors, she suddenly seemed far removed from pretention.

The most prominent feature, however, was the balcony overlooking this inferno. It called to him, and he silently strode out and into the great heat. Made him grit his teeth and wicked away water from his eyes, but the view was magnificent. The looks he stole from his cell window paled by comparison. It was horrifying, yet he now saw in it a rugged beauty he hadn't before. Red water, gray stone, black sky and orange mountains combined to form a landscape both deadly and stunning.

"I've been here thousands of years, and this view never ceases to amaze me," she said as she joined him. With his callused hands on the obsidian railing, he pondered the situation's absurdity. A Human tailor and a Yugoloth queen standing side by side on a lovely day? It was like the setup to a bad joke. Glancing over, he saw a side of Sya he hadn't before. This wasn't a vengeful fiend – not entirely, at least. She was also a woman who was endowed with far more power than she knew what to do with, as evinced by her iron grip on the balustrade. Magical energy crackled from her hands, searing the dark stone an even blacker ebony.

"Do you want to be a queen?" Dreg asked, hoping the question didn't incur her wrath. From her behavior to her living quarters when away from her subjects, she seemed to detest it. But why? Nobles were envied by every mortal. Who wouldn't want to live a charmed life based solely on birthright?

"It doesn't matter what I want," she replied while glancing at the floor. "I am an Ultroloth. We rule fiefdoms in this plane and exploit the Blood War. My siblings and I have done so since the beginning of time – it is simply the way things are. The way they will always be."

"You didn't answer my question," he demanded. Her eyes locked onto his, a storm crackling within. If so inclined, she could hypnotize him and order him to jump to his death. Somehow, though, he knew she wouldn't.

"You're either very brave or very stupid to pester me, Dreg." She sighed, somehow frowning without a mouth. "But you're right. Eons of leadership grate on me. I would like to travel the universe instead of rotting in this castle… but I must. My people depend on me. They cannot function without a ruler, especially in such crucial times. No one else can take my place."

"What about Grizk?" he suggested, earning an eye-roll from Sya.

"That jackal is only my vizier because he always has been. It's a difficult concept to explain to mortals. We have no parents; at the dawn of creation, we simply were. Our roles followed naturally." Well, that was the most he'd get out of her. Sucked about not having parents or a childhood. Having existence, let alone sovereignty thrust upon someone would undoubtedly mess them up.

They walked back inside, and Dreg shook his head, sending drops of sweat flying from his mangy, unshaved beard like fleas from a wild dog. "You still have to clean that up," his mistress playfully remarked. Then she grew more serious. "Don't think me confiding in you changes our relationship. You are still my slave, and I was serious about that new outfit."

Of course. His face grew hot. Well, it already burned, but now for a different reason. He was a fool to think for a moment he could forge a genuine connection with this monster. "What's the occasion for, mistress?"

"Rottuz – the Pit Fiend ally I mentioned – is visiting in a tenday to cement our agreement. I am holding court, and an outfit designed and created by a mortal would certainly bring me much attention and respect." The arrogance displayed only heightened his anger. This was merely a frivolity to her; it was akin to a king on the Material Plane wearing the garments of Gnolls or Orcs for novelty! It pissed him off!

But it also presented an opportunity that he was just lucid enough to make out. He'd give her an outfit, all right. He'd give her the best damn outfit she'd even seen! And he might just be able to escape while doing it. "I have ten days to do it?" She nodded. He could work with that. It'd be tight, especially because he didn't know a thing about the dressing habits of Ultroloths, but it sounded possible. "Then I better get started." He began rattling off a list of everything he needed – cloth, needles, books about Yugoloth culture, lots of water (both for drinking and soaking the materials) and so on.

She mentally noted all the materials; either Ultroloths had very good memories or that was part and parcel with being a ruler. Perhaps both. "I'll have Grizk assemble it all. Don't worry, I'll make sure his sadism doesn't get to you. It will take some time to assemble… and it's late." Yeah, fatigue began to set in. He'd begin his work the next "day".

"I guess that means it's time for me to return to my cell, then," he said, preparing to head downstairs, but Sya shook her head.

"No. I have seen your condition. Your name may be Dreg, but you are not heinous enough to be kept with the scum of society. You shall stay in the prisons no longer." On one hand, he immediately rushed to attribute this action to convenience or being able to spy on him instead of any real kindness. On the other, it would have been cynical to look a gift horse in the mouth. Why not accept the offer?

"Thanks."

She led him out of her chamber and showed him the neighboring door. It was smaller but largely similar – a bed, a chair and a balcony. The other distinguishing feature was a loom that stood against one wall, made of the finest mahogany wood. It struck him that this was the first lumber he'd seen in Gehenna. It could burst into flame at a moment's notice.

Sya left silently while he crawled into bed… or onto it, rather. It probably wasn't that soft, but it felt like a marshmallow after weeks of sleeping on stone. So many covers. Do they actually get chilly here? Stripping off his clothes, he shut the curtains, which lowered the temperature slightly, and flopped onto the bed. Hopefully it'll absorb all my sweat.

His mind roamed through ghastly possibilities. Sya slept mere feet away. What if he crept into her room in the middle of the night and cut her throat? He quickly dismissed that. Firstly, he doubted he was strong enough to penetrate the skin of such a powerful fiend. Secondly, that would have been evil. Yeah, these things were wicked, but wouldn't he be the same if he killed a sentient being not directly harmful to him? It was common knowledge that fiends were immortal… unless killed on their home plane. That was why they often threw themselves at danger with reckless abandon; they were in no real danger outside their homes.

I'll figure it out tomorrow, he thought, already beginning to lapse into slumber.

…

It had been five days since Sya gave him the assignment, and the pressure began to mount. His hands trembled as they plucked threads from the weave, crossed and threaded them for the millionth time. The repetition, he could handle – that came with the occupation. What rattled him were the consequences of failure. Sya seemed nice enough for a Yugoloth queen, but what if the result displeased her? He honestly didn't know whether she'd politely thank him for the effort or tear out his guts.

It's the stress and fumes getting to you. You'll be fine. Lame excuses, but he needed to get them out of his system before it was too late. Perhaps aiming for his most ambitious project ever was a mistake, but there was no going back now.

Sighing, he stepped onto the balcony for a breath of "fresh" air. Seemed less hot, at least. He still sweated, but he didn't fear getting heatstroke anymore, especially because Sya assigned Mezzloths to fetch him water from the River Styx several times a day. Nice to know he'd worked his way up the ladder a bit. Speaking of the Styx, he stared down at it, for his balcony provided a particularly good view. Well, it wasn't the Styx proper, but one of the thousands of tributaries that crisscrossed all the Lower Planes. Still incredible to see its water like blood cut through stone sharp as knives.

It also provided an unparalleled way to watch the festivities being planned. The estuary his terrace overlooked was apparently an anchoring area for fiends travelling to Sya's domain; overland travel was difficult even for Devils in a land of constant volcanism. The area around it was being decorated by two Yugoloth species that lived outside the castle: Hydroloths, aquatic fiends that lived in the Styx and bore a passing resemblance to Kua-Toa, and Merrenoloths, a rare caste with immense skill navigating the hellish waterway. His Mezzoloth aide was uncharacteristically chatty about them; perhaps excitement for the ball overrode natural spite.

Multiple specimens of each roamed the makeshift courtyard, actually looking somewhat happy, inasmuch as animate skeletons and gross fish-people could. A couple of representatives from other Yugoloth castes were present for the festivities, as well; there actually were a few enclaves and villages that Sya exacted tribute from. Kind of astonishing that these fiends had lives, but he supposed it made sense. Unlike the eternally warring Devils and Demons, many Yugoloths wanted to be left alone.

Two particularly ugly ones, a plague-ridden Oinoloth and misshapen Yagnoloth (really, these guys had to get more diverse names) started speaking in Infernal. He'd picked up a couple of words, enough to recognize that they argued over something petty; a missing trinket or the like. They're so hideous they make Sya look gorgeous. He rolled his eyes but nevertheless felt uncomfortable with the notion. Gorgeous. He retched while leaning on the guardrail for support. Fuck me.

Over the last few days, he found himself daydreaming about his mistress. Not necessarily in a sexual way, but sensual enough to alarm him. Interspecies relationships were pretty common on the Material Plane, though most humans went for the long-lived Elves or fun-loving Halflings. He was… different. Instead, he found himself turned on by Dragonborn, Tabaxi, Kenku – "monsters" most humans would sooner kill than consider dating. Always made him weird (he was too shy to ask his Kobold neighbor on a date), but at least those species were flesh and blood like him! Being attracted to a fiend was another beast entirely, one that upset his stomach. He was evil for this.

The two Yugoloths outside noticed his plight and gestured up at him. "Freak", he caught. Speaking of wanting to be left alone… He ducked back inside and pulled the curtains shut. Many were curious about him, likely having never seen a mortal before. He couldn't blame them – one of them showing up on the Material Plane would cause a ruckus. I need to think about all this. He ran his tired fingers through sweat-soaked hair and moved back to the loom; these thoughts of sex were best worked out during labor.

Before he could, though, there was a knock at his door. Another shipment of water, he thought, walking over. Searing stone burned his feet for days, but he no longer felt a thing through all the calluses he'd grown. Perhaps he'd be grateful for that if he ever escaped like he kept blathering about.

"Hey, thanks for the – " His tongue tied itself in a knot when he saw Sya there. Looked like she'd just bathed, for her skin glistened more than usual and her purple robes were free of soot and grime. "L-lady Sya! What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to check on progress. How goes the work?"

"Excellently! I believe you'll be impressed." He lied through his teeth; he'd be lucky if he had half of it done by the deadline (though he supposed he could say midriff-revealing outfits were all the rage on the Material Plane). Meanwhile, he interposed himself between her and the loom so she couldn't see how pitifully little was complete.

"Good, good," she absentmindedly said. An eyelid twitched as he struggled to look at her. His eyes wandered down to her modest bust every few seconds, hardly yielding when he forced them back up. Her face oddly wasn't much better. The lack of a mouth and nose made her seem intimidating at first, though now he actually found it cute. Made her big eyes much more expressive. He saw himself reflected in them. Like always, he sweated.

She hesitated before asking, "Would you like to attend the celebration?" Again, he felt like this was a trap, or at least something unpleasant. She'd probably lead him by the ear as a kind of exotic pet. Honestly, he'd rather be cooped up here than humiliated like that… though he doubted he had a choice. She amended, "You don't have to if you don't want. However, you've worked hard and deserve a break."

Huh. It was possible. Might even be fun, or as close as one could get in Gehenna. Did Devils and Yugoloths have forms of entertainment? He didn't think Sya employed a court jester unless Grizk fulfilled that role. Plus, there'd probably be food besides the ubiquitous soul larvae that formed the bulk of this plane's diet. Finally, it was possible no mortal had ever attended such a party before. How could he spurn such an opportunity?

"Sure, I'll be your plus one. Five more days, right?"

"Five more days." Assuming she didn't flay him for failing to deliver. "Oh, and one more thing." It took a moment to recognize that she held out a bucket of red water, which nearly made his jaw drop.

"You brought this for me?" The notion of such a powerful being doing something so petty for him astounded him, and that astonishment soon computed with her, as well. I thought she said she couldn't do menial labor.

"It, uh, was on the way up! Why have one of the Mezzoloths waste time when I could do it for you?" Her left eye twitched. It also made his heart melt that she tried to be so tough. She obviously was to command such respect, yet this was a side of her he'd never seen; he suspected few had. She was a horrible liar, yet Dreg didn't want to antagonize her.

"Well, thanks." Her slate cheeks turned pink, and she promptly whirled around and walked away, robe fluttering behind her. He only let out a sigh of relief when he no longer heard her footfalls echo. Taking a swig straight from the bucket, he went back over to his workstation and plopped down on the stool. He had to keep working to have any chance in Hell (heh) of finishing this. The size couldn't intimidate him, though; all he had to do was spin larvae silk thread into a garment. Simple as that, though he'd never worked with filament produced by the souls of the damned before.

He twisted his neck and cracked his knuckles and was just about to get back to work when yet another knock came at the door. Seriously! It would have been funny if the stakes weren't so damn high! OK, maybe Sya wouldn't kill him for not delivering, but she'd look like a fool in front of Rottuz if she didn't get an outfit out of him.

"What is it now?" he rhetorically asked whoever wanted him. "I'm a little busy."

He threw open the door and was again taken aback by his visitor: Grizk. The jackal was hunched over with books and probably also annoyance. "The volumes you requested, slave," he spat, probably more to assuage his own feelings rather than put Dreg in his place. An Arcanaloth's library was apparently sacrosanct to them to the point Grizk deigned to ferry reading materials to him rather than let a human set foot in his occult sanctum. "Do not burden me any further." He shoved the tomes into Dreg's arms before baring his teeth and stalking away.

Thank gods, he thought while smiling. That was probably the only time he'd ever done it with the dog less than fifty feet away. He strained under the books' heavy masses: denser than they looked. Even the wiry fiends possessed a deceptive supernatural strength. He dumped them on his bed and began a closer inspection. Most were, as he expected, very dusty and looked quite old – thousands of years, even! All were bound in the hides of Devils, Demons and other Yugoloths, just as the stereotype of hellish books portrayed. However, he'd learned this was more than a macabre cultural practice; paper would spontaneously combust in such heat. The only material to write on was fiendish vellum!

He had no idea where to start, simply picking up a tome at random. How fortunate that the fiend had some written in Common. He'd requisitioned the books under the guise of wanting to learn more about Yugoloth culture; such knowledge would bolster his ability to create a truly unique, significant outfit. That was true enough, but an ulterior motive was at play. One of the manuscripts might contain a secret or hint that'd help him escape. It was a long shot, and Dreg had no idea what to even look for, but it was the best chance he had at ever getting out, and he doubted Grizk would let him touch his collection again. This needed to work.

He placed the book beside the loom and leafed through it with one hand while stitching with the other. Always was a good multitasker, and the dire circumstances made his fingers fly. The following days wouldn't be fun.

…

The past five days, as he predicted, were not fun.

They were long, hard and mostly sleepless; he was kept awake by burning himself on the balustrade and dumping red water over his head while sewing until his fingers bled. But he finished.

He was so happy that he actually kissed the garment. He'd never make anything better, that much he knew: a kimono of blackest midnight, spun from the silk of soul larvae. It was lovingly embroidered with a mural of Gehenna and all its wild, destructive power. Golden threads spelled out "SYA, QUEEN OF GEHENNA" in Infernal across the back, and the hem was set with deep blue. The patterns around it were angular and sharp, evoking Yugoloth culture while also contrasting Sya's smooth curves.

Yeah, I'll stop myself there, he thought, shaking his head. Sex was the last thing he needed to ponder right now. He could have all he wanted once he returned the Material Plane. Which I know how to do now. Leafing through ancient tomes, he ran across an interesting tidbit in one of the last. When explaining trade routes between the planes, the author mentioned an obscure portal only a day's journey down the River Styx from his current location. The gate led to Sigil, the legendary city connecting the entire universe. From there, he could certainly catch a ride back home. The notions of food, fresh water and cool air made him shiver with excitement.

And the party was the key. He'd wait for a distraction of some sort before slipping out of the palace and stealing one of the Merrenoloths' boats. By the time anyone realized he was missing, he'd be at least halfway there. The chances of survival were slim, he realized, but he saw no better option. This was a golden opportunity. He walked over to the balcony with a spring in his step, eyeing over all the vessels he could hijack. There were many, and more came by the minute. The fiendish ferrymen brought with them veritable legions of Devils, and this was apparently only a vanguard for the hordes that would soon pass through.

Made him shudder. He knew the Blood War was big, but he couldn't even imagine the true scale. The front lines must have stretched from one end of the realm to another; millions of Devils and Demons throwing themselves at each other, only to die and be resurrected to try again. If one side ever won and turned its eyes to the Material Plane, the world would be wiped clean in a matter of days. Perhaps he should thank the Yugoloths for remaining largely neutral.

Knocking roused him from his apocalyptic musings. Sya. His heart skipped a beat as he picked up the outfit he'd completed not five minutes prior and strode to the door.

"Is it finished?" she asked, inspecting him expectantly with her ochre oblong eyes.

"Barely." He held out the attire, which was folded so that she couldn't see the patterns or how much effort went into it. He wanted her to see for herself, and there was probably nothing about it he could explain that she didn't know already. "I hope you like it." He wasn't even being facetious. He'd actually almost enjoyed his time in the Lower Planes, even if he was a slave. Got to see and do things he never would have otherwise, and he had no obligations to miss back home. It should have been so much worse. Maybe she'd put in a word for him with one of her counterparts on the Upper Planes so he could get into a good afterlife.

She took the cloak and returned to her room. Silently, he slipped behind her and pressed his ear to the black door. His heart leapt when he heard her gasp in excitement, followed by a telltale flutter of fabric. He couldn't control his grin, which he felt grow from ear to ear. That's when Sya burst out of her room, and her own joy was palpable from her glimmering eyes.

The part he didn't expect was when she threw her arms around him, embracing him in a tight hug. Her slimy, cool skin on his flesh made him tense up… as did the breasts pressing against his chest. This wasn't a platonic gesture. Sya was also quite strong, which made breathing difficult.

"Please let go," he choked out, which she slowly did.

"I – I'm sorry," she sheepishly said, rubbing the back of her neck. Honestly, the fact they had similar body language also came as a surprise. "I just love it." She spun around, making the hem flutter in the hot breeze. He had to admit it. She looked beautiful. And the outfit. Both of them. "Thank you so much. I know you didn't have a choice… but you didn't have to do this much."

"Consider it a gift."

"I will." She smoothed out the front and stared straight ahead. "Rottuz will arrive soon, and then the festivities will begin. Come with me." It might just have been his imagination, but Sya almost sounded frightened. He didn't know of what. Everything was going her way. Maybe Rottuz was particularly fearsome or she'd never entered negotiations of this magnitude before. Regardless, he wanted to help in whatever petty way he could. She was the nicest fiendish queen he could have ever hoped to meet.

Doesn't mean I have to like it here. He couldn't let his lust remind him that his place was elsewhere, and it didn't negate the fact she took him as a slave. He'd forgive her someday, but not yet. Still, their destination was set. "After you, my lady." Blushing, Sya descended the stairs with him right behind.

Raucous laughter echoed up the stairwell as they went – the sound of a thousand jubilant Devils and Yugoloths. This night (for indeed, that was apparently the time, not that that made it any darker than usual) would be the wildest of his life, that much he knew. It simultaneously made him jittery and nauseous; hopefully none of the Devils mistook him for the main course.

And then they arrived.

The throne room had undergone a major overhaul in the tenday since he'd last set foot in it. Barren marble was now furnished with massive stone tables laden with the finest foods. Only a few he recognized, but all made his mouth water – these were dishes from all across the universe! It was either very powerful magic or Sya was even more influential than he realized. Probably the latter, if only to showcase her wealth. And yet she lives without all this the vast majority of the time. Well, it made since to live austerely if she really did hate being a queen. But it has its perks!

He began unconsciously wandering towards the feast – it'd been weeks since he'd consumed anything but the souls of the damned – but Sya grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. "We'll eat soon. Stay with me for now; we'll mingle." Yeah, of course she wanted her pet with her. That's what the cynic within him said. However, it might prove deadly to leave her side, for any one of these things could murder him in a second if so inclined.

Therefore, he stayed by her side as she began to wander among the legions of fiends. Most were hideous, all terrifying, but all also stopped and gaped at him as he passed; he was the star of the night! It exhilarated him. He was nothing special at all back home, but here, he was a celebrity simply on the basis of existing. A wave of Infernal chattering quickly swept around the massive chamber. It could only have been about him, a notion reinforced by a single word he managed to pick out – "human".

He wiped his brow on his sleeve (fortunately, his own duds were sufficient for the occasion… well, not really, but a lot of fiends didn't wear anything at all), though the amount he sweat was far less than when he arrived. Humans did always have and reputation among the races of the Material Plane for adaptability, and perhaps that was true. The crowd of fiends parted, revealing a figure that made his heart stop.

It stood twelve feet tall, and its curved horns added even more to the height. Scaly red skin stretched tight over rippling muscle while it struggled to keep its wings and tail from smacking anyone. It was a Devil if he'd ever seen one, and he immediately knew who it was.

"Rottuz!" Sya hailed the monster, who shot her a smile with two rows of jagged teeth. Made his knees knock together, but a gentle hand on his forearm prevented him from collapsing into a quivering heap. Literal barrels of alcohol stood beside him; the Ultroloth clearly wanted him happy and sedated for the end of the negotiations – could probably wring a better deal out of him.

"Sya!" He plodded over while holding a tankard the size of Dreg's arm, each massive step rattling the ground. Even his own troops looked terrified as he passed them. "It's been a long time! Decades!"

"Centuries, I believe!" They heartily shook hands; the sight of this lithe woman acting so friendly with a behemoth was bizarre to him, but what did he know?

Rottuz's fiery eyes drifted over to Dreg, who nearly passed out. "This is your pet? Yes, my emissaries mentioned him. Or is he a concubine?" That question actually did make him stumble back. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?!

Sya's face flushed crimson, but she tried to contain her embarrassment and rage for the sake of negotiations. Couldn't look weak, after all. Well, I guess I am just a pawn in their game.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." She managed to get the words out without stammering, which was a lot better than what he could have done. She probably expected Rottuz to reply, but he didn't, merely bidding them farewell while Sya stood fuming.

"D-do you really have human concubines?" he asked, terrified that she might snap his neck, but he needed to know. If she was into him, that might explain some of the treatment he'd received.

"No," she growled, her eyes focusing into narrow slits. "I have no idea why Rottuz would make such a claim. But if he thinks he can insult me in my own castle, he has another thing coming."

Fuck. This'd throw a wrench into his plans. If Sya was angry the whole night, she'd be less likely to be distracted, which made his escape plan that much more difficult. He kept trying to formulate plans, but hunger and being led around the raucous ballroom made that difficult. Different groups of dignitaries and soldiers alike approached him during Sya's mingling (always showing off her outfit and crediting him), all invariably treating him like a cute exotic pet or as a pest that needed to be squashed. Pissed him off to be thought of as either vermin or a bauble, but Sya had none of that… at least by what he gathered from his knowledge of Infernal. And she might have just still been angry about Rottuz's behavior.

Finally, though, it was time for dinner. He was hungry to the point of nausea by the time he was seated in front of the glimmering platters, filled with everything from the flesh of Pegasi (which smelled heavenly, naturally, but he'd heard cursed those that ate it, so he'd skip that course) to bouquets of thorny edible flowers to things that he actually recognized. He'd probably control his hunger and stick to those in case any of these other delicacies killed/cursed/maimed him. In fact, he was so delirious with hunger that it took him several minutes of sitting and drooling (how bad would it look if he was the first one to eat… besides Rottuz) to recognize his position at the grand table.

He gasped when he did. He sat on the right-hand side of Sya, herself at one end of the banquet. Rottuz had been banished to the far end, where he glared daggers at them between gargantuan gulps of meat. Yeah, the negotiations looked pretty much dead at this point. Assuming Yugoloth culture worked the way most human cultures did, he'd been given the highest position of honor. Him, a slave! "Am I in the correct spot?" he whispered.

"Yes," she mumbled back. "You… deserve it after all you've been through. Both with my outfit and how you've been tormented here."

The gesture genuinely moved him. She didn't have to do anything, but instead gave him a taste of royalty. Now snapped out of his funk, he saw Yugoloths and Devils alike jealously eyeing him. Well, he had the queen of Gehenna on his side! Really, though, he was surprised the spot hadn't gone to Grizk. Wait. He surveyed the room. No sign of him. Hadn't been for the whole night. "Where's Grizk?"

"I have no idea. Not my problem, either – if the jackal wants to skip a feast to study, that's his prerogative. Frankly, I'm glad he isn't here." Yeah, so was he. A moment later, Sya cleared her throat (somehow), which, magically amplified, got the whole chamber's attention. Rottuz especially, who trained his beady, red eyes on her.

"We are gathered here tonight to celebrate a change in the Blood War's torpid tides!" Sitting next to her increased voice nearly deafened him; maybe this wasn't the best place to sit, after all! "I, Sya of Khalas and the great Rottuz of Malbolge, have come to an agreement! In return for passage through my kingdom, he will provide me – and my realm by extension – twenty percent of whatever loot is recovered from the slain Demons!" Quite a shrewd offer; given her lack of regard for wealth, Dreg assumed virtually all of it would go towards public works. Sounded like a win for all involved, though Rottuz continued to chow down and smirk. Even his own troops looked baffled by such behavior.

Sya's temper began to crack. "I would also encourage my esteemed colleague to display some manners when in my court! Is that clear?!" Rottuz stopped, an entire side of beef pressed between his lips, and nodded. "Very good."

She lifted a flagon of black ichor, and all assembled took that as the sign to dig in, Dreg included! The next hour or so was a blur of ecstasy. So many foods, both literally divine and hellish (though even the latter was quite good, if spicy) passed down his throat, nearly making him comatose. There was music and laughing and the room began to spin – that black stuff was strong! These people knew how to party! The only thing that unsettled him was the way Sya ate without a mouth. He'd never worked up the courage to ask, but now he saw.

She simply pressed the food (or poured the liquid) on her skin, and it was promptly absorbed into her. That's disgusting. Could she just do that to food, or would it work on people, as well? He shuddered before shaking his head and looking away.

That bit of grossness aside, though, everything was fine and dandy. Then he heard a clatter to his right. Then gasps. Glancing over, he sprang to his feet and yelped.

Sya lay twitching and spasming on the floor, clutching at her throat. Dying. There was only one explanation that made any sense, and someone else shouted it before he could.

"P-poison! She's been poisoned!" The terror in Dreg's gut turned to rage when he realized the one responsible. Indeed, it was obvious from his behavior throughout the night.

"Rottuz!" he shouted, leaping onto the table and staring down the Devil at the far end. "I'll fucking kill you!" Deep inside, he realized the insanity of an unarmed, untrained tailor trying to take down a Lord of Hell. It was like an ant against an elephant. But he was one pissed off ant!

"Are you implying I poisoned your queen? Because… that would be correct!" The entire room gasped. Weapons were drawn. The Devils rushed to protect their leader, albeit reluctantly, while the Yugoloths charged forward. Deafening roars and shrieks in ancient tongues rocked the room within moments as the two groups began slaughtering each other by sword and spell.

This was it. This was the perfect time to escape! Even if they'd noticed he'd slipped out, a million things were more important than catching him now! And damn, he wanted to. The noise seemed to dim, though, as he stole a glance back at Sya, dying on the ground. Her gray skin began to turn white. If she died here… she was gone forever, and there was no time for one of the Arcanaloths to perform a plane-shifting ritual. Maybe nothing could save her… but he wanted revenge, even if it killed him!

Reality snapped back into place as he snatched an obsidian steak knife from the table, screamed and charged down it, leaping over both food and clumps of brawling Devils and Yugoloths splayed across it. "Rottuz!" The Pit Fiend didn't seem to notice him, instead smirking at the carnage before turning back and idly beginning to walk out of the castle. "Get back here!"

A great axe slammed into the stone a foot in front of him, which he slid under, aided by the grease of a flayed Phoenix. His mind, on overdrive, just barely realized this was something done by the great heroes of renown. Well, he was no damn hero! Reaching the end of the buffet, he jumped off and into the chaos of maces and claws and freakish monsters writhing in a fiendish orgy of blood. As expected, he was ignored, merely dodging falling bodies that nearly crushed him. One benefit of being an ant or an exotic pet was that no one paid any attention to him once something important started! What harm could he possibly do?

He was close now. Sweat and the gore of fiends drenched his clothes and skin while his lungs burned, but none of that mattered! The only important thing was that he stab Rottuz as a final act of defiance before inevitably being squashed by a being a hundred times stronger than he. Even if he did manage to slay him by some miracle, it wouldn't bring Sya back, and he'd just reconstitute in the Nine Hells. He didn't care.

The Devil still had his back towards the chaos as he casually walked away, allowing Dreg to spring up and start climbing the bony protrusions on his back like a cliffside. Rottuz yelped and flapped his wings to try and dislodge him, but Dreg grit his teeth as his hands got cut on the chitin and kept going.

"Dismount me, insolent pest!" he shouted, flailing now. "You always were an annoyance!"

Dreg didn't know what he meant, but, again, he didn't fucking care! He slipped the makeshift dagger into his mouth, grabbed onto the Devil's horns and sat atop his head like a rider on a wild bull. By this time, most of the fighting had stopped. The two armies stood among ranks of their own dead and dying to watch the supernatural rodeo. The Devils clearly didn't think their leader was in any danger, which didn't exactly give him hope.

"Get off of me, filthy mortal!" Rottuz roared as he bucked around; his arms were just a bit too short to reach the top of his head. Well, this was it. This was how he died. Leaning over, Dreg grabbed the blade and plunged it into Rottuz's eye. He screamed, doubling over and threw him off. The wind was knocked from his lungs and pain crackled down his spine as his vision sloshed around. He was already dead, but this petty act of defiance made him smile while coughing up a gobbet of blood. Devils surrounded him with their spells and spears and bore down on him to avenge their leader.

"Come on," he spat, defiant in the face of these horrors. "Kill me." They looked ready to do just that. He and Sya dying together. The queen of Gehenna and the human pauper. He wasn't sure how to feel about that. "Make my day."

An Ice Devil was about to plunge its claws into his gut when Infernal yipping drew their attention away. He got to his knees, and the sight before him was stranger than any he'd yet seen. Rottuz morphed and contorted before his eyes, shrinking and shedding his crimson skin. In seconds, the quivering shape was no longer a fearsome Pit Fiend, but a familiar jackal. Grizk.

Everything suddenly made far too much sense. Grizk was fonder of Demons from the conversations he'd caught. He planned this whole thing to force the Devils and Yugoloths into a war of their own, one that would have turned the Blood War's tides. He almost got away with it.

The Devils quickly turned their attention to the imposter, stringing the barely conscious dog up by the arms and legs, realizing the exact same things he did. Seeing the fiend be ripped apart and permanently ended would have been the most satisfying thing in the world. But he was also the only one who could possibly save Sya – his friend.

"Don't kill him!" he slurred, stumbling to his feet. "He might be able to help Sya!" The chance to escape had passed him by, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try and save a life.

Murmurs swept around the room as the situation was collectively realized, and the Devils quickly consented, even thanking him for foiling this "disgrace" of their leader – at least's that's what he thought happened as his head whirled through space. Some Nycaloths brought over Sya's pallid body, stepping over the corpses of their brothers and sisters who weren't lucky enough to receive such treatment. Other Arcanaloths attended to them, but he doubted they'd pull through. Hard to believe he now cared so much about the lives of fiends.

"Fix her," Dreg demanded to the bloodied jackal, gore dripping from his gouged-out eye. Still enraged, his hand shot out to throttle him. "Fix her or I'll cut off your fucking head!"

Grizk said nothing to him, merely squatting over Sya and muttering a few magic words. Instantly, Sya's skin was back to its normal gray while her black eyes again turned golden. And they were angry. Dreg didn't have time to react before she fulfilled his threat herself. A flash of a longsword, and Grizk's ugly head bounced to the ground and rolled away. Dreg felt himself smile before promptly passing out.

…

The next weeks were a timeless blur. He guessed it'd been weeks, but he didn't know and it hardly mattered. It was all the same here. He slept. He woke. His whole body ached. He ate a little food, drank some red water, pissed in the chamber pot and fell back asleep. The only constant was Sya. She was beside him every time he woke, watching over him with smiling eyes. He couldn't have asked for a better protector.

One day, he suddenly felt better. Not completely healed, but this time he mustered enough strength to look directly at her and crack a smile. "W-what happened?"

She told him. Some things, he'd already guessed. Grizk betrayed her for the Demons and created a ruse to try and get the Yugoloths to his side, poisoning her for good measure. She'd only survived thanks to his intervention. Later, they'd found the real Rottuz stranded up the River Styx, apparently teleported there by Grizk. They'd formalized their agreement without much fanfare, he'd reclaimed his reconstituted soldiers from the Nine Hells and both of them agreed to never speak of this again. Dreg promptly fell comatose after foiling his plot and she'd nursed him back to health for the past three weeks.

Maybe she lied about the length of time or her own gratitude. She was an incarnation of evil and… fuck that. Yugoloth or not, fiend or not, Sya saved his life, just like he saved hers! Any being that would do that was good in his book. In fact, he just noticed that she still wore the outfit he made her. Not like she had much variety in terms of clothes, yet the gesture still touched him.

"…you're free." Those were the final words of her speech and the ones that wrenched his attention away.

"W-what?" he stammered, unable to believe her words. "Are you serious?!"

She hesitated before nodding. "I am. I was going to let you slip out at the party… but I'm glad you didn't."

She knew?!

"I'm telepathic," she replied while crossing her arms. "Against mortals, at least. Not so with Grizk, which was why I could not sense his betrayal… which I probably should have regardless." Oh. Seemed obvious in retrospect, given how she always answered his questions before he asked.

But that also meant… His face burned when he realized that she also knew about his crush! This caused her to blush as well, and the human and Ultroloth both stared at each other a moment, both awkwardly twitching as they turned red as beets. Dreg desperately wished the calderas outside would explode and cause a diversion, but no such luck. Sya rubbed the back of her neck. At least he no longer feared that she'd kill him!

"I'm flattered by your feelings about me. Really. I've existed for thousands of years and have never seen anything so… cute." Yeah, not helping the raging inferno in his face. Mercifully, she changed the subject thereafter. "But as I said, I would have let you leave. I take slaves once in a blue moon, you see, but they are brigands and thieves in the mountains – bad people who would have ended up here, regardless. Grizk assumed you were one, given your shabby dress and dangerous location. I am glad he was incorrect."

"And will you let me leave now?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"I will… but do you really want to go?"

The question shattered his reality in an instant. He'd been so set on leaving for the past weeks (months, now) that he hadn't considered the ramifications. He had no family. No real friends. Like he'd said, he'd mostly be mourned by his landlord. Here, he had a woman who, even if she didn't reciprocate his feelings, was his best friend in the universe. How sad was that?

"You need not decide now," she whispered, ruffling his hair. Only then did he feel the massive beard covering his face. Well, it'd been a while since he shaved! "You still need more rest before your body can withstand the pressure of crossing planes. I'll have a razor brought up in the meanwhile."

She stood and walked towards the door, only pausing when Dreg involuntarily shouted, "Wait!" His throat welded shut as he stared into her sparkling umber eyes. "Do you feel the same way about me," he squeaked. It was a ridiculous question – even if they were no longer enemies, she was still infinitely his greater. Forget his fetish for "beast races" – this was far more akin to bestiality considering that, slave or not, all mortals were practically animals to higher (or lower, in this case) beings.

"I… don't know." His heart sank, but at least it wasn't shattered. Better to have swallowed this bitter medicine right away instead of constructing an elaborate fantasy for himself. Well, he understood her being confused, at least. "Over the past days, I have felt things towards you I haven't ever before. I am a being of fire and smoke, forged from heat and eternity. I did not think love to be in my nature. The seed of something is there, Dreg, but I know not whether to call it love, having no frame of reference for that. But it's something good. Something I can't articulate. I'll have to see."

With that, she departed, and Dreg curled up under the blankets again. They were soaked in sweat, but the sensation was so commonplace now that he would have been uncomfortable if he stopped. A thousand thoughts whirred about his head, but most of them were actually positive. She cared for him. Maybe loved him. He was rocked to sleep again by the knowledge that, for once in his life, someone was on his side.

…

It was time. Another week later and Dreg's wounds, both physical and mental, had scarred over. Not healed but scarred. He doubted the deeper ones ever would ever fully recover. They didn't need to, though; they were part of who he was, and changing that would have wasted all he'd gone through. Sighing, he took one last look out of his room's balcony. The fearsome landscape that he once thought desolate was now beautiful to him. Though the exterior was rough, it possessed a hardy beauty beneath. Sounds like some people I know.

The boat taking him to the portal was moored to the dock below; a Merrenoloth would escort him there along with Sya, and he could finally go home. Enticing as the thought of staying here forever was… he couldn't. Mortals weren't meant to live here – he felt himself slipping by the day. He'd consulted with the Arcanaloths; soon, he would wither into a husk. It broke his heart that he'd never see Sya again in this life or the next. He hopefully wasn't vile enough to be reborn as a soul larva, at least. No, he'd be stuck in one of the Upper Planes – Heaven, most would call it. But how could it be without the love of his life? Even if she didn't reciprocate his feelings, he couldn't shake them. Mere friendship with her still meant the world to him.

The door creaked open behind him as he thought this. Speak of the Devil… or Yugoloth.

"Your puns are the worst," she thought, shaking her head in mock disappointment. Yeah, he always endeavored to think horribly unfunny jokes whenever she approached. Just part of his charm.

Both of them lapsed into silence for a moment. What were they supposed to say? The most Dreg could do was hold back tears. "I've been thinking about something for a while," Sya whispered at last, flashing her golden eyes upward. "You want to return? After your death?"

"More than anything," he croaked. "I know it sounds crazy, but this place is my home now. I'm only leaving because my flesh can't handle it."

She stood up straight and nodded. "Then I will honor that wish. The gods are protective of good souls, but when, as you stand in the City of Judgement, I will be there. I will tell them that you are mine. And if you agree… even the gods themselves will have no power over you. You can remain in this, your paradise. You, and me, secluded from all else and everything forever."

Dreg stood there, mouth agape. Sya's mouthless face contorted in confusion when she couldn't get a handle on his thoughts; there was nothing to think. He couldn't even process the offer… until it all hit him at once like a punch in the gut. He doubled over, sobbing at the kindness she'd offered him. "What's wrong?!" she exclaimed, rushing over to him. "Isn't that what you – "

He threw his arms around her, continuing to cry into her regal outfit while she patted him on the back, comforting him. It was both a joy and a burden to know he only had to die to see his beloved again. Would've been so easy to put a knife to his throat and join her forever… but that couldn't happen. He still had to be a good person on the Mortal Plane first. A few short years of hardship, and then he would get to remain with his love until the end of time. Anyone would call that a happy ending.

"Well, I'm happy you're deciding to embrace life before you join me." She pulled away from him, her expressive eyes more than conveying a smile by themselves. "But I have one more thing to offer."

"What?"

"You seek the power to do good in your appointed time like the adventurers you admire." That was true; he'd thought a lot about saving people since he'd come here… or people saving him, rather. Few people possessed the strength or cunning or magic or the blessings of the gods themselves to heed such a calling, though. Certainly not him. "I can give you that power."

"Really?" he gasped. Though he had no reason to doubt, the notion of him being anything more than a simple tailor was still alien to him.

"Yes. I can implant a piece of my essence into you, and some of my innate magic along with it. When you come back to me, it will, as well. You can travel the world and beyond like I've always wanted to, and that part of me will be with you every step of the way."

"A-all right," he quickly agreed, excited at the prospect of suddenly gaining superhuman power! "Let's do it."

Sya arched a brow, and a playful sparkle rooted in her gaze. "I've never done this with anyone before. Never trusted anyone enough to become their patron. A ritual is required to bind my essence to yours. This can take a number of forms… but I think you'll like this one the most."

Before he could ask what she meant, her robes fell to the floor, revealing a slender, graceful slate creature more beautiful than any woman he'd ever seen. He was erect within seconds. "Now, shall we begin?"