The kingdom of Auradon liked to pretend it was built on peace, that fairy godmothers and shining princes were enough to keep darkness at bay. But before Beast dreamed of walls, before anyone dared imagine locking villains away, the land belonged to terror. And at the heart of it were Maleficent and Hades.

Together, they weren’t simply feared—they were legend. Maleficent’s staff could split stone, turn lush forests into charred wastelands. And Hades… he didn’t simply kill. He lingered. He drew out every scream, every drop of suffering like an artist savoring his craft. He’d laugh as heroes begged for death, mock fathers as they watched their sons burn, sneer at mothers clutching children—children he especially despised. He loathed them, their innocence, their cries, their pathetic hope. Nothing delighted him more than watching that hope shatter in blue fire.

And yet, side by side with Maleficent, his cruelty was sharpened, not softened. He didn’t speak sweetly to her—he didn’t need to. Their bond was jagged, biting, a match of two monsters who thrived on each other’s venom. When Hades snarled, Maleficent smirked. When she burned villages to ash, he traced lazy flames through the ruins, mocking survivors for daring to still breathe. They didn’t call each other “love” or whisper tender nothings. They traded fire and wicked laughter, and that was intimacy enough.

One night, after a village raid that left the sky itself glowing red and blue, Hades leaned against the rubble of what had once been a school. The air reeked of smoke and char. “Pathetic brats,” he spat, tossing a charred doll into the flames. “If I ever hear another child cry, I’ll feed it my fire before it takes its first step.”

Maleficent only chuckled, spinning her staff as if conducting the fire’s crackle. “Careful, Hades. You’ll run out of children before you run out of rage.”

He turned to her, fire curling at his hairline, grin razor-sharp. “Then I’ll move on to their parents.”

They laughed, and the kingdom whispered in fear.

But chaos was only one side of their reign. The other lived in the quieter moments, when villains gathered in their circles, sharpening claws and sipping black coffee while the world healed around them.

At Ursula’s Fish, the unofficial den of villain society, smoke curled from Cruella’s cigarette as she lounged in furs. The Evil Queen sat perfectly poised, jeweled fingers wrapped around her cup. Ursula herself stirred coffee dark as pitch, her booming laugh shaking the table. Maleficent arrived last, as always, regal, her presence commanding without effort.

The conversation started with curses, with gossip of a foolish knight’s latest failure, with complaints about heroes still breathing. But soon the topic slithered, as it always did, toward Hades.

Cruella exhaled a ribbon of smoke, eyes gleaming. “Darling, let’s not pretend we aren’t all curious. We’ve seen Hades torture men until they begged for the grave. We’ve watched him sneer at children, burn families alive, rip through heroes like parchment.” Her smirk turned wicked. “But tell us—what’s he like in bed?”

Ursula let out a cackle, leaning in, tentacles twitching. “Yes, Maleficent. Does he take that same… sadistic delight when he’s with you? Does he leave you begging for mercy like the rest of them?”

The Evil Queen tilted her head, lips curved in a cruel smile. “Spare us the vague answers. We want details. Is the Lord of the Underworld as merciless with you between the sheets as he is with everyone else outside them?”