He hadn't realized it until he was in the presence of Ivan Windstrummer once more, but Arkoth Wormwood missed smiling. He also hadn't realized how long it had been since he had done so, even before he had died.
So when Ivan flashed his pearly whites in Arkoth's direction and spoke of forgiveness and second chances on the River Styx, truly happy to have him and his daughter with them, Arkoth was struck at the sincerity at both the smile and his words.
He knew Ivan Windstrummer better than he should, and he knew that the gnome did not have a deceitful bone in his tiny body. So he knew that Ivan meant every word he said. But he also knew that Ivan truly was happy to have them, even knowing what Arkoth had done and whose daughter Hana truly was. The gnome was happy to have Jeminya's niece and a broken soldier saved only by the mercy of the gods and an angel.
The ride to Phlegethos on the River Styx was quiet, at least for the Warden, as he kept a close eye on his daughter, who was studying both the river and the first mortals she had ever met. He watched her listen to them compare stories, and he chuckled when she admitted that, compared to them, she was almost glad she had grown up where she had. Arkoth felt proud; she hadn't minded the way he'd raised her, even if he did.
Arkoth thought back over his own time before Hell and wondered when he had last felt true joy, enough to smile with a physical mouth. Normal men - men without his depraved mind and twisted soul - would have smiled when they learned their partner was pregnant. They would have smiled when the woman they had devoted themselves to told them they were expecting a new life, their new life.
Instead… both he and the woman carrying his child had given little thought to their daughter's life and had only planned to use her for her mind. He could not remember feeling any joy at learning of a successful conception. He could not even remember any pure joy from his time with Simula, which didn't surprise him in the slightest.
If he tried hard, he could remember being happy back during his time in Alatastica. Each promotion brought him pride and happiness, even if they were a sort of reward for keeping his mouth shut for the right people. But…
I wasn't truly happy until I had Hana, he concluded, scrutinizing his daughter more carefully.
For better or worse, she did look starkly similar to her mother and aunt. Her horns had not grown as long as theirs yet, but hers poked out and curved back ever so slightly with a sheen that made them look as if they'd been polished. She was lean and lithe and as ungifted in the figure department as her aunt had been at her age, and her hands were small and thin underneath the callouses and sharpened nails. Her face was not as pointed and defined as either of the Directian princesses' had been, which he assumed she got from him, but her eyes were bigger than either of them, and the golden light they emitted shone brightly when curious or mischievous. Even her smile reminded him of a young Jeminya, who always smiled more easily and widely.
But there were moments - moments that worried him - where he saw her mother in her. Despite her name coming from her aunt, Hana had not been able to develop the mercy that her name stood for. And he couldn't help but feel a figurative chill run up and down his armor whenever she discovered a little bit more of her magic. A puff of poison gas here, a blade of ice there, it worried him, especially since he couldn't teach her more or how to control it. Her magic was natural, not a gift or a curse from a god nor derived from any faith she had, so he was at a loss as to how to help her grow. And he constantly worried whether or not he had been able to show her what "good" looked like.
He focused his eyes on the mortals that had been, in life, his adversaries. If anyone could show her good, it would be them. Except perhaps the Drow; if he remembered Captain Arkanen correctly, he had no inclination toward good or evil either way.
Arkoth's thoughts were pulled once again to the bubbly gnome when they encountered the so-called "Merchant of Curses"… though he looked far more familiar to the Warden than he felt comfortable disclosing. They were already suspicious of the figure guarding his chambers in Faerthurin's magical manor, and he dared not spill any secrets here. But Ivan didn't seem to care that there was a shifty soul selling them cursed items, so he eagerly purchased a ring to protect his beloved dragon from fire, and Arkoth was struck with how obviously in love the two of them were.
He remembered his time with… Simula (he shuddered at the name). It was doubtful that he ever really loved her in the purest sense of the word for there was nothing "pure" about him at the time. His entire being had been twisted with a lust for power and a lust for… other benefits of his position, so he could not believe that he had ever felt anything like what Amber Hawthorne and Ivan Windstrummer did.
But he easily admitted that Hana was the best result of his time with her. And though he may never be able to admit it aloud, she had definitely been worth dying and striving toward redemption for, and no one would persuade him otherwise.
It had never been easy. Sustaining an infant without a mother's care had been perhaps the hardest thing he'd ever had to endure in his life. Once Hana had been able to eat solid foods, it had gotten monumentally easier, but he was still raising a baby - a creature that required constant care, attention, and warmth - in Hell. Even the slightest noise could attract an unfriendly creature, curious as to the disturbance and eager for a tender young soul.
As they headed off to bed in Faerthurin's magical manor, he continued reminiscing over his earlier days with Hana. He'd spent days working on their crude little cottage in order to provide a safe place for his child to cry, walk, learn, and train in combat. He felt somewhat proud of his efforts when he had finished their home, and he was especially proud of his craftsmanship the day she took her first steps - until she punctured her foot on a splinter in the floor.
When she reached her third birthday, he had worked for several weeks in order to gather the materials for her birthday wish: a friend for when he was gone. He would scavenge any fabric he found on devils or pilfered from abandoned hovels, and painstakingly stitched them together in the semblance of a bear. It didn't look… terrible, and that was being generous. But he nearly felt he could have cried when he sheepishly presented it to her and she ran for her toy, snuggling it to her and naming the toy Hubert - a name she had heard when he told stories of his platoon. He found it fitting; Hubert Soltworth had been a huge hulking bear of a man but absolute putty with his own children. Hana had asked if he was as powerful as Arkoth, and Arkoth had fibbed and said that he was magical. If she had ever found out he lied, she never said anything, and the bear was rarely out of her sight from that day forward.
Over the years, as she became more independent, they both worked together to reinforce their home. She became quite nimble and would repair the roof whenever something would start leaking since she was lighter than he by a long shot. And she eventually insisted on having her own room, though she still slept in the central room in front of the fire on the few cold nights. But they were always together unless he instructed her to stay home when he went to hunt Mammon. He always came home, and when he saw her waiting for him, her face peeking out from the windows with Hubert's glass eyes next to her own, he felt the urge to stop his hunts for a time.
Hana (and Hubert) became very skilled in combat over the years, though in a more… brutal way than he was used to. He used his sword; she used her claws and a staff she had carved from one of the branches of the nearby trees. He aimed for wherever he could hit; she aimed for the throat or occasionally the gullet, both to insure maximum blood and minimal survival for her foe. His was trained into him; hers was brought about by necessity for when she had to hunt and defend herself while he was away.
He felt bad that he had never been an amazing cook, but he taught her the basics, though he had little experience with cooking swamp lizard meat. Through trial and error, they learned which plants could be eaten and which couldn't, what the consistency of meat should be in order to not fall ill after consumption, and which foods caused her to smell more enticing to other nearby devils. She no longer needed his help in the food department, a fact he was both glad and sad about, and spent most of her time tracking her prey before cornering it. "For practice," she'd say.
Now… he did not know what to do. The mortals he had set out to torment had given him a second chance and opened their home to him. And already they were fawning over Hana. Even the druid had smiled when she told Hana of the significance and origin of her name. A small part of him was glad to give her the opportunity to socialize with people he knew to be good, but he was still concerned about what all the change would do to her. She had never left Minauros, and even he left only on rare occasions, so he had no idea how she would fare.
If any of you gods are listening, he thought, recalling the gods whom had given him his second chance and placed his daughter in his arms for the first time, please keep her safe. I care not what happens to me. Keep her in good company. And… let me be able to smile like Ivan Windstrummer. Just… once is enough.
His silent plea was more for his own benefit than for anyone who may have been listening, but he did feel better. And he heard Ivan's voice drift through the manor, leaving him at ease. Hana would do well with them looking out for her, and perhaps she would get to experience true joy. The Heroes of Jeminya would take care of her and let her be a child.
He hoped.