How (Not) to Lose Your Heart to the Devil (Baldur's Gate 3)

Step Seven: Be the change you want to see in the Hells

Once she woke, Rhia's body felt surprisingly good. No pain, not even a slight stinging from the ordeals she had been through.
For the first time since that worm had been planted behind her eye, she felt—comfortable.
And it was odd, very odd.

When her eyes fluttered open, her surroundings slowly drifted into focus.
There was a lot of red, different shades, but predominantly red.

Ugh— now I remember...

The devil had finally succeeded in claiming her soul. The tiefling grunted, burying her face into the soft pillow.
Good for him! That insufferable, arrogant, pompous—

"Thinking about me, aren't you?" Raphael's voice nearly jolted her off the mattress.

There he was. Sitting on a massive wingchair with a leather-bound tome in his clawed hands, observing the tiefling.
So far, so good... but what the flaming Hells was he wearing?
A dark red, silken dressing gown hugged his— imposing cambion form, making Rhia wonder what might be exposed should he uncross his muscular legs.

Don't. Don't even think about it! The sane part of her brain warned her.

"Had a good night's rest, demon-child? The bedding is to die for, isn't it? Selected it myself," he said, his voice laced with an almost inconceivable purr.

Rhia's body froze before she took another look at her surroundings. This wasn't his room, was it?
Her eyes got stuck on the massive oil painting of the cambion hanging in front of the bed. His pose, his clothing; it was almost comically regal.
This is his bedroom, all right...

"You were so exhausted; unresponsive, really. Korilla didn't return for quite a while because someone had decided to toss my crown into the Chionthar..." the growl was subtle, but it was there... as was the spark of anger in his eyes. "Thus, I had to take care of you myself," he let out an overdramatic sigh, "The things I do for my assets..."

The tiefling raised her eyebrows and scoffed.
"You're the incarnation of charity and kindness, aren't you?" she grunted, sitting up in the bed and wrapping the covers around her tightly, stifling the shudder.

"Don't forget humility. It's one of my greatest strengths," Raphael said, his signature half-smile appearing on his face.

The tiefling got up from the bed, letting out an annoyed grunt. At least Raphael had left her in her own torn-up clothes, for better or worse.
"You have the crown. Don't you have work to do now? Reforge that tiara and put it on your head to rule over the Hells? So why don't you get to it?"

Raphael was gone in a puff of crimson smoke, only to reappear right in front of her.
Rhia had been prepared for it but nearly stumbled over her feet as she backed away from him.
"We really have to work on that tone, little Hellcat," he hissed, his infuriatingly intoxicating scent sending shivers down her spine.

"Do not dare use that name. Not after you—"

His clawed hand grabbed her chin in an instant.
"After I what? Saved your brother from eternal torment? Saved you, not once but twice, from certain death?"
Rhia furrowed her brows, staring up at him.

"Yes, you would have died from exhaustion after battling the Elderbrain and being stupid enough to use your last bit of magic against me. Hells. I've known pit fiends that weren't as stubborn as you are." He said, looming over her.

"You won't be respectful? Fine by me, we'll get there, one way or another," his gaze turned darker as he spoke. "-- but at least show some bloody gratitude!"

She tore herself from him, stepping away. "You used my brother to get me to pledge my soul to you. I'll spend the rest of my life and eternity after that in the Hells. Ever thought I might have preferred a quick death over that?"