Asmodia grew up being proud of her name, of the secrets that came with it, that her parents trusted her with once she was old enough to keep secrets. 

One secret was: a name is an easy token to pay, to look very slightly less suspicious, to look very slightly more devout. There are things that matter, but names are not one of them. 

They are part of a small farming community far into the foothills of the Aspodell Mountains, and services are a trek for everyone involved. Their family treks down to the village center, the priest treks up, the local families are asked pointed questions about themselves, their faith, and each other, and then all parties depart. The faster the priest could assure herself of their little village's devotion and be on her way, the better for everyone really. 

There was one moment, when she was a little older, understood better just who Asmodeus was, that she asked asked: could she have a second name, a hidden name, just for home? She was good at playing Pretend, by then. 

Her parents said no. The risk of forgetting, of slipping up, was too great, the benefit too small. There are other things worth taking risks for - but not names. She never asked again. 

Asmodia and her younger brothers, Thraxus and Infirius. Good devout names, for a family of devotees.