“Look at me,” he asked carefully after a long moment of silence, and when she did not respond he took a chance and raised his hand to touch her cheek and move her face towards his again. She let him.

“What do you want?” she renewed her gaze on him, now completely calm.

“Give me your hand.”

“What for?”

“Just do it” he didn't step back, so she distrustfully let go of the sword hilt and handed him the tiny hand.

He was the god of memories, the oldest of them all, and he had his tricks. He usually used them for a completely different purpose, showing scenarios that chilled the blood, caused nightmares and tightened the throat. It made life easier, avoided the sometimes unnecessary struggle, just enough to blend memories and fiction so smoothly that it was no longer possible to distinguish one from the other. When he did this it ended up with a fear so panicky it was almost visible.

He had never before pulled out his own memories in front of anyone else.

He didn't do it because he didn't trust them, he knew how it would end, but now there was so little left to his own end that he was willing to risk it. He wanted her to know all this, for anyone but him to know. And remembered. That was why he had asked Andrielach not to go with him.

There was another reason that now tightened his throat more than he would like to admit. He was also going on this journey with her, he was now five years old and he was once again in his family home, whose worn wooden floor he knew perfectly well, and his mother was standing in front of him and he knew what was about to happen.

So he showed the Lady of Heaven his mother's death, the pain, the illness, the betrayals and the feeling of humiliation that burned slightly in his throat and paralyzed his temples. He confessed to her what could kill him, faster than her sword.

“We both know you're stronger than me. You won't back down” he muttered as he let go of her hand slowly. He bowed his head slightly, no longer looking her in the eye. “I will rebuild my power. So will you. Together?”

“This is the moment when I say yes, isn't it? As if I didn't know you'd play anything if you needed anything,” she burbled, but he could still see the corners of her mouth lifting slightly. She herself now tightened her hands on his hand. “I don't need sympathy, but neither do you. We need an army.”

“Let's start by saying you won't stay here. I'll take you to Hell and put you somewhere safe, you need to recover. Don't worry about the army anymore, if everything goes according to plan you'll get exactly the army you're thinking of,” he replied, so she let go of his hand and stood up. She wiped the dust off her dress measuring him with a look, completely different from the one she had fled with when he came.

“I didn't exactly expect you here, and certainly not on my side. I am not stupid. How much will it cost me?”

“A few conversations, maybe a smile. You need help and I can temporarily give it to you, take advantage,” he replied, also getting up.

“What about Lucifer and Beelzebub?”

“They are busy with themselves and the country. After Heaven won, they have problems with rebuilding structures, with new borders and demons disrespecting the Throne Room. They have their little wars to win, they won't notice you.”

“I'll go, but I know full well there will be trouble because of it. With you they always are.”

It would be hard to deny her right. He opened the portal and let her walk straight through to the burrow where he himself officiated. He himself followed her and immediately closed the portal, watching as the goddess of the night looked around to finally give a very unmistakable snort.

“What is this place? Do you make sure that the title of most squalid is not taken away from it?” She asked with her eyes jumping over the blood stains on the walls

“No, but we're safe here. The guards don't check the vacant buildings, I change premises from time to time: the Hell Palace fortunately has many abandoned corridors. You know what I do now, the hellish law is somehow not particularly more liberal when it comes to powders, weapons and corpses.”

“This is where you want to hide me?”

“No. But I won't offer you the rooms you're used to, they'd find you.”

“Yes, that's already understood. No need to repeat yourself, where then?”

“I know a pretty friendly shabby spelunking place on the fourth floor. The old demons don't go there, the young ones wouldn't recognize you even if they saw you. You'll get protection from me, they'll keep watch. Admittedly, there will be no luxuries, but there are undoubted advantages to the situation: you'll be close to the wine. I'll stop by once a day for a few words.... stands?”

“When you say that, I get the impression that you're like a rat. You only need a burrow to survive,” she muttered calmly, taking the only clean glass from the cupboard and pouring herself from the bottle placed next to it.

“It's that or death. What do you choose Your Highness?” He asked without the slightest confusion sitting down at the table.

“Lead the way to this spittoon.”

“It's too early, too much traffic. Only when they go to sleep again I will be able to take you out of here. Sit down and we'll talk.”