Lamashtu reclined on silk pillows in her palace in the heart of the Duchy of Irkalla as she enjoyed a late lunch with her wife Hecate. Hecate was a demoness skilled in magic (much like her father, Archduke Baphomet) who took the form of a centaur with the lower body of a horse, the head of a greyhound, the horns of a cow, fiery eyes that burned like a pair of torches, and snakes for hair.
Lamashtu bit into a succulent fruit and admired Hecate's naked breasts as she waited for word on her father's decision regarding the vacant titles of the deceased Beelzebub Carrionfly and the disgraced Adrammelech Gloryfowl. Lamashtu was quite confident that Lucifer would give her something good. After all, she had expressed clear interest, and most of the other Morningstars that Lucifer had been considering either could not or would not fill the choicest positions. She was a little worried that she might lose the titles of Chief of Justice and Grand Chamberlain to Nergal, but it stood to reason that Lucifer would want someone he could rely on in these turbulent times. He'd need family.
As for Grandmaster of the Order of the Fly, Lamashtu didn't really expect to get that one. That should go to a good military commander. Many nobles saw membership in the Order of the Fly as nothing more than a prestige thing, but the Knights of the Fly WERE expected to serve as an elite military squad in times of war. Lamashtu figured the main contenders for Grandmaster were probably her sister Alecto, her Uncle Leviathan, Archduke Belial, and of course Commander Baal.
More promising were Adrammelech's stripped titles. The traitor had been both Grand Chancellor of Hell and President of the Senate. Both positions carried tremendous political power across Hell. Best of all, Lamashtu couldn't see anyone besides herself who could fill the roles. After all, who else was there? Loki the prankster? Enoch the apolitical coward? Miasma the adolescent? Most of her other brothers and sisters were already weighed down with full-time jobs in court or the armed forces. The same went for her cousins Dagon and Charybdis, who were admirals in their father Leviathan's navy.
Even if she couldn't have any of those, Lamashtu was confident that either she or Hecate would be named the new Duchess of Malebolge. A grant of extra land wouldn't be especially controversial. Lamashtu and her wife had proven themselves to be competent at governing Irkalla, after all. Lamashtu smiled, thinking about how a grant of more land meant more subjects (demon and damned human alike) for Lamashtu to put to work laboring to increase her wealth. More farms, more factories, more mines, more soldiers. And Malebolge was such a choice duchy, vast in size and home to some of Hell's most fertile lands and richest cities.
Lamashtu was snapped out of her daydreaming when Pallaca entered the room, trembling as she knelt before Lamashtu and Hecate. Pallaca was one of Lamashtu's lesser wives, a human girl who Lamashtu kidnapped from a London brothel in 1854. Pallaca took the form of cat-headed demon with gazelle horns and the wings of a moth. Lamashtu took pride in how well she had trained Pallaca, teaching her to speak only when spoken to and beating her until she accepted the name "Pallaca" over her old human name (Lucy Watkins). Lamashtu considered the English prostitute-turned-demon to be the most reliable of her junior wives.
"What is it, Pallaca?" Lamashtu asked.
"A... A m-messenger from Dis j-just arrived at the g-g-gatehouse," Pallaca nervously choked out, terrified of her wife. "He... He says he has news about... about the handing out of Lord Beelzebub and Lord Adrammelech's titles."
Lamashtu's leonine face smiled, baring her sharp teeth. "Excellent. Who got what?"
"King Lucifer apparently gave the titles of Chief of Justice, Grandmaster of the Order of the Fly and Grand Chamberlain to your brother Enoch," Pallaca answered, keeping her head respectfully bowed. "It was a complete surprise."
"I imagine so," Hecate gasped. "Enoch resigned as Chief of Justice centuries ago. How did Lucifer persuade him to step back into the role?"
"The messenger said the Devil just announced it without consulting Enoch," said Pallaca. "Enoch was rumored to be thoroughly annoyed."
Lamashtu frowned. "He gave titles to Enoch, who wants nothing to do with the court when he KNOWS I want more influence in the court?!" The infernal princess took a second to calm herself. "Fine, fine, whatever. Who got appointed Grand Chancellor? What about President of the Senate? Please say that I got one of those!"
Pallaca shivered before answering. "He didn't say. The rumor is He'll make Princess Miasma one or both of those as a wedding present."
"MIASMA?!!" Lamashtu thundered with rage. "That barely-weaned whelp of a demon?!"
Pallaca ducked to dodge a fruit bowl that Lamashtu threw at her head. "Well, Miasma IS Hell's Archdiablesse, after all."
"Nobody asked your opinion!" Lamashtu growled. "Human-blooded filth like you has no right to opinions! And MIASMA has no right to captain Hell's government! Even Loki would be more understandable! At least that tricky brat makes a half-decent spymaster! Well, what about the Duchy of Malebolge? Who got that?"
"Nobody quite yet," answered Pallaca. "Those who would know say that it's probably going to be given to your sister Princess Nocticula when Lucifer installs her as the new Archduchess of the Eighth Circle."
"Am I in the running for anything?" Lamashtu moaned.
"The messenger says you might be named Keeper of the Royal Wardrobe," said a terrified Pallaca. "It might go to your Naamah, though. Lilith and Astaroth always admired her knack for ornamenting her body without hiding any of her fun bits."
"After all these thousands of years as a loyal daughter!" Lamashtu roared. "THIS is how Dad rewards me with a 'maybe' about administrating a gaggle of fashion designers and tailors?! Get out while you still have your head! I don't want to see your pathetic face until tonight's threesome!"
Although not sure how any of this was her fault, Pallaca scampered out of the room, dodging more thrown dishes. She'd lived this long by never pestering her wife and mistress when she was raging.
Lamashtu slumped to the ground and wept. "This isn't fair! Surely I matter more to Dad than Enoch, Nocticula, Miasma, and Naamah! Enoch didn't even WANT those stupid titles! And Miasma's too young to remember the Middle Ages! Okay, maybe Nocticula deserves something, but Naamah?! She's just a musician! Why am I stuck overseeing the Hellhound kennels with just one measly duchy to my name?!"
"Your time will come," Hecate whispered soothingly. "Remember the succession system your mother devised. As Lucifer's sixth daughter, you're the heiress to the Sixth Circle. If anything happens to your Aunt Astaroth, you'll be an archduchess."
"There's an idea!" Lamashtu grinned. "If I kill Aunt Astaroth, I'll finally be the somebody I was meant to be!"
Hecate flinched. "I didn't mean you should break the law to get what you want!"
"But it's such a good idea," Lamashtu laughed. "I'll get my archduchy, and House Morningstar will be rid of an idiot who intends to take humanborn scum as her chief wife. I say we wait for the day of the wedding to make our move. In all of the hubbub in Purgatory, it should be easy to discreetly kill her and frame a radical angel like Kushiel or Semyaza. You will help me, darling? I need your magic."
Hecate gulped. She sometimes worried that her wife was getting too arrogant and would overplay her hand, but what could she do about it? "Yes, sweetie," she said warily. "I'll help you."