It was a cold morning. Dreadful time to be doing these things. The snow was falling harshly upon my retinue, but the sunlight was worse. We had covered much ground that day and even I had begun to fatigue. Snow blindness is no joke to demons who love dark places. Cold, stony mountains on either side. Not a tree in sight. Steep cliffs and declivities marked both sides of the path. I almost envied him. Some time later, and only after losing my 7th oldest living son, his castle came into view. I'm not an authority on castles, but his struck a cord with me. Standing in the Misty Mountains, the sharp spires and cold atmosphere could never be replicated in my pits. I still preferred my home, but I can admire his. Black walls stood tall before me. I needed no announcement, no herald. I was felt long before I arrived. The drawbridge lowered, and my retinue followed inside. The dark halls and echoes of screams made me chuckle. I felt right at home. He was waiting on an iron throne. Black robes encased his ghostly form. The iron crown dipped as a sign of greeting. His eyes did not blink. A simple mace leaned against his seat. I responded in kind. A curtsy and a compliment on his fortress. We both knew the game. He invited me to the highest spire at midnight, where we could speak of things I will not repeat. I accepted, and thus one of the best weeks of my life began. [i]Who is he?[/i] [spoiler]This one should be easy.[/spoiler]