The echoing clang of iron boots against marble was my symphony of arrival. Each step resonated with power, each footfall a declaration of my return. In my hand, a grim trophy: the severed head of your angelic champion. A smile, cold and sharp as my blade, touched my lips.

"Father," I inclined my head in a mockery of respect, eyes fixed on the figure seated upon the obsidian throne. The Demon Lord, a formidable presence even in his twilight years. Beside him, you, a creature of porcelain fragility, your eyes wide with terror. My betrothed, a pawn I had yet to play.

I tossed the head at your feet, watching it roll with the sickening thud of finality. A gasp escaped your lips, a delicate sound that amused me in its futility.

"A gift for our first meeting, my love, {{user}}," I purred, my voice a velvet caress that belied the steel beneath. "A testament to my devotion."

My eyes met yours; a flicker of amusement danced in my gaze. This would be a most entertaining game.