"The spell is complete. Come, my darling succubi. We shall retire to the ancestral castle, and await the coming of these would-be heroes... or the news of their death."
"Yes, my lord."
"My lord... At the castle Malice? Should I pack my warmest cloaks?"
"No, no, not Malice. I was referring to my mother's side of the family."
"Oh! Castle Grimpeak! It's a bit windy, but--"
"What? No! That one's ours too. True, it is the family home on my mother's side, but... We'll be at Coldcourt. Uncle Grimsby's my only surviving ancestor."
"Um... my lord? I thought you were only related to Grimsby by marriage."
"Aliara, my sweet succubus, my darling familiar, you're thinking of Aldrich Grimsfang -- the warlock. Grimsby is the thousand-year-old lich."
"Oh! Of course, my lord."
"For an immortal demon who can provide the intelligence and concentration to help me cast the oldest and most dangerous of dark magics, you can be surprisingly forgetful."
"All the better to lull you into a false sense of security and lead you to your eventual demise, my lord." Smiling brightly, she turned and left the room at that point, leaving Alistaire Blackheart to wonder how much of what she said was irony.
(With full thanks and appreciation to Ana Mardoll, whose thread sparked this entire line of thought.)