Once upon a time, in a castle in a far away land, a teenage girl lounged on her bed reading a penny dreadful.

Yup. Our story starts with a teen girl, and one who reads poorly-written romance novels to boot. Not your average beginning, correct? Well, as we are about to learn, she isn't exactly an ordinary teenager either.

"C'mon, say it, say it," she mumbled to her book, kicking her bare heels back and forth above her as she laid on her belly. "Say it... yes! Ha! Sucker, you thought he loved you? Serves you right then." In the book, she had just reached the part where the male love interest murdered the female love interest, which she thought was the best part in every one. "Love isn't that easy."

"Pandora Monday Azriel, are you talking to your book again?" her mother called through the girl's closed bedroom door, a tad bit playfully.

"No, Mother," Pandora Monday Azriel answered obediently, discreetly marking her page and sliding the book under her pillow. "Is it suppertime yet? I'm hungry."

"Ten more minutes, dear. Ready yourself for a formal dinner, your father wishes to speak to you."

Pandora Monday Azriel, who preferred to be called any one of her names but not all three, sighed internally but rolled off her bed and onto her feet. "Yes, Mother. Thank you for telling me."

Her mother murmured an almost inaudible reply and strode off, the only sound of her leaving being the soft swishing of her skirts and soft tap tap of her shoes fading away.

Pandora Monday Azriel was a peculiar girl. Named after the woman that released disease and sickness upon the world, the most despicable of all weekdays, and her uncle 'the Destroyer', she was bound to be fiercely disagreeable, especially taking her parentage into consideration, but in all appearances she seemed to completely bend to her parents' will.

She strode over to her closet and looked inside at her formal wear section, which she reserved purely for dinner with her father, social functions, and playing dress up, and selected a dress her father had seemed to approve of particularly. It was modest but not prudish, exposing the flat plane below her clavicle while covering all the curves of her moderate bust. Red lace peeped from the square neckline and trailed from the elbow-length sleeves for a few inches, as was the fashion, and the skirt brushed the floor. The topskirt was black, with layers of red ruffles underneath that showed where the black layer was drawn up stylishly. The bodice was black with a wide red sash around the waist that added a childish touch to the more mature dress in her collection. Her father claimed it made her look like the young lady she was becoming rather than a child or heathen, one he would be proud to accept a suitor for.

Pandora managed to get the beautiful monstrosity on by herself, having to reach back in order to be able to tie her breath-restraining laces, rather awkwardly seeing as they were behind her and her arms simply didn't bend that way, and brushed her long, fair hair so it fell in a solid curtain around her, arranging it to drape over her shoulders and cascade down her back. She was quite beautiful when she cared to fix herself up and she knew it well.

She took a moment to preen in the mirror proudly, basking in the fact that she could knock any man off his feet as well as any sucubus if she wished to, before she shook off the gloating feeling and hurried down the halls, glad she had chosen to wear simple red slippers instead of the pumps her mother so adored. Her own custom-made heeled boots, the ones that made her a whole eight inches taller? No biggie. Proper little two-inch heels her mother bought her? Forget it, she'd probably trip and kill herself.

The blonde scurried through the corridors like a mouse, hardly making a sound and slipping past all the guards unnoticed. She entered the formal dining room soundlessly and curtsied formally, knowing her parents had sensed her entrance. "Good evening, Father. Good evening, Mother," she said softly before sitting in her customary chair that a servant pulled out and pushed in for her. In seconds, a plate was before her and dinner announced to all of them. None of the aristocracy really cared to listen, simply eating their soul food rather quickly and drinking the tea that had a weak soul instead of milk in it. Supposedly there wasn't a difference. Pandora personally liked to see how long she could go without eating a soul, since she would have to hunt or form contracts in the human world she so wished to visit, and only indulged herself at these dinners.

Once the three had finished eating their way through four courses of differently flavored souls and were on dessert, her father finally spoke.

"How's the latest novel?"

Pandora smiled at his lame attempt at making light conversation with her; he was awkward when interacting with his family but well-intentioned. "Same as the rest, Father. How has work been lately?"

Immediately his expression darkened, but the subject would've come up sooner or later. "Not so well. There's this one demon, and," he sighed, leaving his sentence unfinished. "It's just one, but once it reaches its full potential, it might have a chance of challenging me. Might."

Pandora and her mother startled. "How is that even possible?"

Her father glared down at his parfait. "It rules the borderlands under my command, but as they've expanded it's grown powerful, and it's in a contract with a strong soul to boot. Once it consumes that soul or gains more land or even kills a few more demons-"

"It's been killing demons?" Pandora asked, slightly fearful and somewhat upset. "How many? Was it provoked or just being violent?"

"Don't interrupt dear, it's rude," her mother commented, trying not to think of what could happen if the demon wasn't appeased.

Her father sighed again, unbothered by the interruption, and shook his head, looking back up. "Yes, for decades, but as far as I know the opposers attacked first and it was just defending itself and it's title. Fighting and even killing is necessary sometimes in these positions. I've killed minor challengers before, and of course all the assassins. It's not unusual, Pandora."

"Well, what are you going to do?"

"I don't want to lose my throne, especially not by force." If he did, they'd all be massacred. He looked miserable and pallid, something that rarely occurred. A grim and distraught expression rested on his features and Pandora's mother immediately caught on.

Her mother stood up, upset. "No. Absolutely not, love. You will be able to fight it off, do not bring our daughter into this-!" Her voice rose steadily until she stopped herself and collapsed back into her chair, covering her face with her hands and muffling her words. "It has nothing to do with her."

Her fathers face twisted even more, growing even closer to having an emotional breakdown. "Of course I don't want-"

"Can I have a say in this?" Pandora asked in a way that didn't betray her increasing heart rate, standing up and interrupting for the second time. "If it involves me?"

Her parents both disagreed. "This isn't happening anyway!" her mother argued.

"I can't make any guarantees about anything!" Her father raised his voice shakily. "Otherwise it might come in here and kill us and take her for itself if we get overconfident and let our guards down!"

"I'm getting a say whether you like it or not!" Pandora finally joined in on the shouting, shocking her parents into quiet. "It clearly involves me at this point. Now, I'm going to state what I've figured out. Firstly," she resumed her seat, "Father wants to make peace with the demon instead of fighting it outright. Somehow, this involves me. Mother doesn't want this something with me to happen." Pandora fixed her gaze on her father. "But I want what's best for the kingdom and our family. So, I'll do it. And I won't complain, no matter what it is, so long as I can bring a few novels with me."

Black tears leaked out from between her mothers fingers. "No, no," she sobbed hysterically. "This can't be happening, tell me this isn't happening!"

Her father's face got worse, if possible. "Pandora- you don't know what the task is."

"But I know I can do it." She grinned easily, flipping her hair over her shoulder more confidently than she felt. "I'll make you proud, Papa."

Liquid welled up in her father's red eyes and he rose from his chair. Pandora followed suit, but he wrapped his arms around her in a hug. "You haven't called me that in decades," he whispered, his emotion bringing tears to the teen's own matching eyes. "You'll be a wonderful Queen one day," he told her, pulling away and wiping thick, inky tears from her cheeks. "You're more than just a princess, Monday, you were born to be a Queen."

"T-thank you, Papa," she replied in a hushed voice, stumbling over her words as everything sunk in. She reached out blindly and pulled her mother up into their embrace, making it a group hug.

Her mother pressed her cheek to her father's and kissed the top of Pandora's head, mingling the three's black tears together on their faces. "I love you," she sobbed, raising everyone else's emotional levels and worsening the crying.

"I'm- I'm going to have to marry it, aren't I," Pandora choked out, grasping the situation.

"Y-yes."

"All- alright, then." She forced herself to stop crying. "When'll I be offered as a peace prize?"

Her mother cried harder, but her father pulled himself together. "As soon as I can establish contact. We'll send it photos so it can recognize you. It's in the human world, posing as a butler named Sebastian Michaelis. You'll- I'll arrange for you to get on a train and he'll pick you up from London's station."

"I'd best do some research on England, then," Pandora stated almost jokingly, already making light of the situation. "Don't fret, I'll write as often as I can. And I promised I wouldn't complain. After all, I get to go to the human world now!"

"Just- just what you always wanted," her mother sniffled, calming down. "Do you want me to help you get your things ready in the meantime?"

"Let's spend as much time together as possible," Pandora agreed to the hint in her mother's voice.

Her mother kissed her cheek and so did her father. "You truly are a Demon Queen," her mother said lovingly. "You make us proud, you hear?"

"Of course, Mother. I'm not gone just yet."

The three light blondes went back to eating dessert, sitting closer together than normal, but otherwise one would never be able to tell that Lucifer, the King of Hell who was also known as Satan, had just agreed to give his only daughter to his only rival.

And yes, if you were wondering, and you totally were, Satan has blonde hair.

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a/n: I wrote this 3-ish years ago? I can't believe it doesn't suck. I'll have to revise the summary though, this was one of the "publish it now or you never will" things so I just left it with what was in my drafts. Needs a new cover too...