Throughout their three-hundred years of marriage, Sabrina and Caliban had made numerous trips to Earth. Many of which had been at Sabrina's insistence.
They had visited for every possible occasion: birthdays, marriages, baby showers, sainings, and funerals. Of course, they also visited for more formal reasons. The reformation of the Churches of Darkness that they carried out resulted in them spending quite a bit of time on the Mortal plane. It was like a honeymoon for them. A working one.
The Dark Lord had a far reach, even in death, and Sabrina was determined to make sure that every last witch was safe from his grasp. She couldn't outright say that she had killed her father, at least not at first, so she pretended to be acting on his behalf. The pride that was his downfall ended up working in her favor.
He had bragged about her, extensively. It wasn't a surprise. He loved her as an extension of himself. He boasted that his daughter summoned hellfire on the night of her Dark Baptism and would soon be joining him on the throne as his queen.
Sabrina rolled her eyes at the memory. As if.
She distorted a piece of lore here, added or eliminated a rule or law there all in Lucifer's name. Having a daughter changes you, she said, and makes you more aware of the issues women are facing in the world. It worked like a charm. By the time his death came to light, she had won the favor of most witches and the newest generation of witches and warlocks alike. There was a small-scale rebellion, but Caliban was more than happy to squash it on her behalf.
It was senseless bloodshed, and it could have all been avoided if they simply bowed before her.
However, business was not the reason for their visit to Earth today.
Sabrina smiled at the thought and looked up at the night sky. She lifted her hand off of the blanket they were laying on and pointed up to a cluster of stars that had caught her attention.
"I remember Ambrose telling me something about that one, I think."
It was shaped like an elongated 'w' that had been tilted slightly on its side. It was familiar, but she didn't always see as much of the sky as she would like.
"That is Cassiopeia," Caliban informed her.
"Sounds familiar," Sabrina murmured.
"She was Queen of Aethiopia and wife of King Cepheus. She was as beautiful as she was vain. As queen that vanity never came with a price, until she declared that her daughter, Andromeda, was more beautiful than the Nereids, sea nymphs who were the daughters of Gaia's firstborn son Nereus. Naturally, Poseidon didn't take kindly to his subjects being disrespected and sent a monster to plague the shores of Aethiopia until a suitable sacrifice was made."
"Sacrifice?" she questioned, twirling a strand of his golden hair around one of her fingers, "What kind of sacrifice?"
He hadn't aged a day since they had first met, and neither had she. Immortality, she had been told, was a good look on her. They would forever be young, strong, and beautiful. At first, it bugged her that they would never grow old together, but she eventually realized that immortality didn't mean they wouldn't grow together in other ways.
They grew wiser, more powerful, more knowledgeable, more conniving, crueler, and most importantly they grew in their love. It was somehow deeper, stronger, and more passionate and understanding than when it all started.
"Andromeda," he replied, "Poseidon said the only way for his wrath to be sated was for Andromeda to be sacrificed to the monster."
"Typical," she huffed, "Blaming a child for the sins of their parents."
One of the good things about Hell, and she had discovered that there were quite a few good things during her reign, was that you were only punished for the things you were guilty of. Nothing more, and nothing less.
"Fret not, Princess, she was rescued by the hero Perseus, whom she fell in love with and married."
"What about Cassiopeia?" she was still curious about this woman's place in the stars.
"Poseiden bound her to a throne, similar to the way Andromeda was bound during her ordeal, and placed her among the stars as a reminder to mortals that hubris would never go unpunished."
"Despite all of that crappy parenting," she took their intertwined hands and pulled them to her stomach, "Cassiopeia is a pretty name for a baby girl, don't you think?"