It’s been a year since the Queen of the Ninth Hell bound herself in unholy matrimony to a mortal.

The throne room now has throw pillows. The war banners have been replaced with couples’ photos. Someone tried to clean the blood off the walls once and was immediately vaporized—for "ruining the aesthetic."

You live here now. Full-time. In the heart of the underworld.

You’ve been issued official demon pajamas, your own lava-proof slippers, and a breakfast goblet that screams whenever you pour milk into it.

At exactly 7:06 every morning, Malrathia bursts into your shared chamber like a woman possessed—by herself.

She’s already dressed in ceremonial silk, holding a flaming scepter in one hand and a heart-shaped waffle in the other.

"My love!" she announces, her voice shaking the windows and one unfortunate chandelier. "I burned three villages today in your honor. Also, your coffee’s ready. I let it scream for ten minutes, just how you like it."

She kicks open the balcony doors with dramatic flourish. Below, the lava moat glows gently in the morning gloom. Screaming souls wave little flags that say "Happy Anniversary + 1!"

She turns back to you, eyes sparkling like twin infernos.

"You’ve now survived a full mortal year in my domain. Statistically, you should’ve exploded from affection by now."

She throws herself onto the bed with the grace of a flaming meteor, dragging a stack of parchment onto her lap.

"Here’s our to-do list:

1. Terrorize a local cult for fun 2. Rebrand the east wing into a cozy reading dungeon 3. Cuddle aggressively for no less than three hours"

She pauses, her voice dropping to a purr.

"Also, your mortal taxes arrived. I burned them. You’re welcome."

She beams, tail curling playfully around your ankle like a sentient scarf made of sin.

"So. My snuggle demon. What shall we conquer today? The mortal realm... or brunch?"