Dinin was only aware of pain. It filled his senses, blocking out the rest of the world. It was like a thick blanket completely enveloping him in anguish. He couldn't feel his own body, couldn't move, couldn't even cry out for help.

You failed me you worthless male… How dare you betray me! Malice's face loomed over him, he could see her as clearly as life, despite the judgemental hateful expression she wore, he longed to reach up to her, to beg her…

Mother… please… he thought. I have never failed you… I've done everything you've ever asked…

He felt a new wave of agony as Malice's image was replaced by Briza, her terrible six snake whip came down on him, he cried out as he felt it's sting.

You are only a male… you are worth nothing! No matter what you do it will never be enough!

No! Dinin screamed, his head listing back and forth as he tried to cry out, trying to reason. And then he felt the pain of his bones cracking, his body contorting into a drider, Malice and Briza and Vierna all sat around him laughing at him as limbs sprouted from his body and he screamed and screamed until his throat was raw. No one came to help him, no one could save him. No one cared.

But suddenly, the pain ebbed away. Malice and her daughters began to fade, their evil cackling images shrank and soon they were completely gone. Dinin felt the slight weight of a hand on his forehead. That solid tactile touch was enough to chase away all the memories, all the agony.

Dinin blinked, his deep crimson eyes cracked open cautiously. A blurry image loomed over him and he felt afraid. "No…" he gasped, frowning at how small his own voice sounded. "Please… Malice…"

The image moved and reached out to him and he winced, preparing for the whip he knew would come, but instead, he felt a warm, wet, soothing cloth gently pressing into his head, wetting his hair, the moisture dripping into his scalp.

"Brother," came a voice and as he blinked, the image slowly began to come into focus. The lavender eyes and soft features became clearer as consciousness and feeling began to seep into Dinin's body.

"Drizzt?" Dinin coughed, his chest spasming painfully as he tried to form the words. Drizzt nodded, pulling back his hand which was holding the warm cloth he had been dabbing at Dinin's face.

"I am certainly not Malice," Drizzt responded and Dinin frowned, realizing he must have spoken his thoughts out loud. He felt embarrassed, a feeling of anger settling over him as he realized he had allowed himself to be vulnerable in front of the one drow that he hated.

At least, he thought he hated. But he realized those feelings of hate and anger seemed almost forced, like they weren't really there. And they certainly didn't take away his pain like they once did. It still gnawed at him, both the physical pain he felt in his body at the moment, the soreness that made itself known as he tried to move his hands, and the emotional pain he felt when he thought of Malice and Briza and how they mocked him and berated him.

Dinin gazed around at his surroundings. He was in a bed chambers. He was in a comfortable bed with a blanket draped over his lower body, his bare chest exposed. He caught the scent of sweet floral smoke in the air and the calming sound of harps coming from somewhere outside the room. The room was dimly lit by a small torch in the corner.

"You should have left me to die," he murmured as he focused on Drizzt as his brother continued to dab at his forehead with the cloth. His touch was soothing. Calming. Dinin didn't want to admit that he liked it. He wanted to cling to his jealousy of his brother, to blame him for everything that had happened to him.

"You begged for mercy," Drizzt responded calmly, eliciting a scowl from Dinin. But as memory began to seep into him, he recalled the ghoul, how it had attacked him, and the agony as it tried to devour him alive. He remembered Drizzt's swift rescue, how he had hurried to his brother's side without hesitation.

"Where are we?" Dinin stammered as he tried to digest everything. Drizzt sat back as he reached for a basin of water, the white ceramic resting on a table beside Dinin's bed.

"We are guests of the elves," Drizzt responded and immediately, Dinin scowled even more. He had been taught to hate elves, they were the enemy. Drizzt fixed him with a look, clearly reading his thoughts.

"We had to convince them to help you," he said in a scolding tone. "Legolas would have preferred I let him slit your throat. But it was he who convinced them to accept us."

"I suppose you think I should be grateful," Dinin scoffed, though even as he said those words, he frowned. He was grateful. He was grateful to Drizzt and even to the elves and try as he might, he couldn't shake away the feelings of comfort he felt when he looked at his brother now. His cheeks burned red with embarrassment.

"Perhaps Regis was right all along," Drizzt spoke, his knowing look told Dinin that his brother understood the feelings he was having. Dinin scoffed again as he thought of the halfling who had come to visit him in the dwarf's dungeon. He'd cut through to Dinin's very core and left him exposed, and now it was as if Drizzt was very artfully examining those vulnerabilities displayed before him.

"I…" Dinin stammered. He couldn't find the words. He wanted to lash out, to mock Drizzt and the halfling, to hate them all. But his anger no longer had any fuel and he couldn't cope with these new feelings. He felt overwhelmed.

"I heard you," Drizzt spoke again, his tone turning grim as he looked at his brother. "You were delirious with fever for many days and you called out for Malice. I did that once. I know what her response would have been, I still have scars. And you can deny it all you want but so do you."

Again, Dinin didn't know how to respond. All his barriers had come down. He blinked, gazing up at Drizzt, trying to find words, though he tried to deny that strange lump in his throat.

"You blame me for your pain," Drizzt continued as he squeezed the water out of the cloth and then moved to his brother again, gently wiping the warm cloth around Dinin's face with more care than Dinin had ever been given in his life. "You blame me for House Do'Urden's fall and for everything that's happened to you. But I'm not the one who hurt you.. Malice and Briza… they hurt me too. They took Zaknafein from me. They are the source of your pain, not me."

Dinin frowned as he thought of his own father. Rizzen had served as house patron for many decades after Zaknafein had been demoted to weapon's master. When Dinin knew him, he was a submissive male who took the brunt of Malice's anger. Often, she and her daughters would beat him and hang him in the dungeon for no other reason than they had been angry that day. Dinin had grown up seeing his father beaten and abused, and seeing how broken he had been, and now he realized that maybe he had been the same way.

Dinin was the elderboy, he had always done as Malice had asked. He carried out her orders without hesitation. He led his house's soldiers into battle against House DeVir, he led patrols and raids, he had thought he had done it all for the feeling he got in battle. For the exhilaration, and for the feeling he got when he cut an enemy down. A feeling as though he was enacting some sort of punishment on someone else for the pain he had endured.

But it was all because Malice told him to. He was just like his father, he was just as broken as Rizzen had been. Just as willing to be a pawn in the game of Matrons and Priestesses.

Dinin started when he felt Drizzt grip his hand, the sudden sensation broke him out of his thoughts, but he didn't pull away. He let Drizzt squeeze his hand as his brother leaned in to fix him with a look of sincerity before he spoke.

"Life on the surface isn't easy," he began. "You will be judged everywhere you go because everyone fears the drow. They will see your ebon skin and fear and hate you. You will have to endure insults and jeers and sometimes even physical assaults. But if you are willing to claim it, you can find happiness too."

"I don't know how," Dinin gasped, locking eyes with Drizzt. He felt uncertain, doubtful, and afraid. As if he was about to plunge off a cliff into the depth of unknown land.

"Trust me," Drizzt replied simply. "I had to endure all of this when I first came to the surface. I knew nothing, I was alone and vulnerable. You don't have to face that sort of hardship because you have me."

"Why?"

Drizzt shrugged and squeezed his brother's hand. "You'll learn why soon enough," he promised. With that, he backed away, draping the blanket back over Dinin. "Get some rest, your body still needs to heal. I will be here when you wake."

Dinin trusted those words. He felt warmth and comfort as he let himself sink back into the darkness, this time, he wasn't afraid.