Book 1: The Wrong Girl in the Devildom

"Move On..."

(AN: Just to reiterate the disclaimer: This is my disproven headcanon. This is NOT canon.)

Saphonya watched the mirror in her hand, watching the rulers of Hell enjoy the breakfast prepared by their pet. "Pathetic. Even the butler?" She muttered, snapping the compact shut. "This is stupid."

"Your obsession with this human? Yes, it is." Angela walked into the room with a cup of tea for her sister. "We can go a few more months without Mammon, you haven't been looking so good."

Saphonya took the cup and sipped from it. She couldn't deny what her sister said, her sleep patterns were being thrown off, and she started noticing silver strands intertwining with her raven hair. Her eyes were darkening as the days went by, but she didn't complain.

"With the news you gave me? This isn't about Mammon anymore..." She put the cup down and sighed, crossing her legs on the couch. She stared at the floor for a moment in thought. "Okay, it is still about Mammon...But not just about him. This is about them all, all the royals, and making them pay."

"Saph...You're talking recklessly. You're making yourself sick with this unhealthy obsession, and for what?"

"For what?" Saphonya's eyes glowed as she looked at her sister. "Did you forget what happened all those years ago?"

"I didn't forget...I just chose to move on, with Mammon being the last piece of that memory I chose to let stay around. I don't want to obsess. Diavolo isn't a person you want to get on their bad side."

"Diavolo doesn't scare me, none of them do." Saphonya got up and snatched a photo off the wall. "They will never scare me so long as they have our village's blood on their hands." She threw the frame in Angela's lap and swiped the bottle of wine off the table. "You may have been young but I'm sure you didn't forget what they did."

"Diavolo didn't do anything, that was his dad."

"And he is his father's son. Remember...All smiles are an illusion." She took a seat poured a glass of wine. "And under that teddy bear smile and hearty laugh, he knows it too."

To this day she still didn't understand why it happened, but the image was clear as day. Fires raged through the town, witches and demons alike scattered to find refuge but ran right into the arms of his men.

They'd been drinking, that much she knew. Even while hiding in the closet, she could smell the alcohol through the door while she held her hand over her younger sister's mouth, while the baby was fast asleep next to them.

"Your highness, please...There's nothing here for us to give." She could hear her father as clear as day, pleading with the late king for mercy. She could feel the anxiety her mother held, standing close to the kitchen, holding her hands at her sides while one of the king's men knocked over her potion bottles and destroyed her supplies.

"This has nothing to do with what you have to give, Xelnor." The king watched as his men tore the house apart. "Where are those pretty little girls of yours? Hmm?" He walked around the house and gently touched the cheap fabric that acted as curtains. "I've been looking for playmates for my son."

"They aren't here." Ophelia flexed her hands a little, fighting the urge to throw the king out of the house. "You've been drinking your highness...And you're causing a lot of damage to the home of some of your most loyal subjects."

"Loyal, huh?" The king stalked forward and cupped the witch's face in his hand. He smirked down at her, baring his fangs for her. "How loyal?"

"Not that loyal," Xelnor growled and moved to pull the king away, but he was held back by the guards. "My wife, my girls, neither are up for grabs."