A/N: Hi! Thank you for reading this story, this is my first FanFiction story. I'm pretty much writing this to have a creative outlet. I hope you enjoy the story, and I'm still learning how to be a good writer, so please review. Oh yeh, and this story may go to an M rating… it kind of all depends.

Prologue I: My Dearest

A person is born with feelings of envy and hate. If he gives way to them, they will lead him to violence and crime, and any sense of loyalty and good faith will be abandoned -Xun Zi

Amira Pendergast bowed her head to the cold, marble floor. Her master called her into his study to be honored above his other servants. Tom Marvolo Riddle, now known as Lord Voldemort stood before her. His pale skin gleamed in the moonlight, and his calculating eyes cut into her like steel. He knew all of her secrets, her dreams, and her weaknesses making her truly vulnerable. Lord Voldemort rose from his plush chair, which he sat on like a throne, and walked toward Amira. She raised her head from the floor, as she heard his shoes clicking against the surface. He walked closer to Amir and grabbed her small, tan hand, into his larger one, and raised her to face him. To any onlooker it looked like a kind gesture, but Amira recognized it as a command. She stood facing him, but inclined her head ever so slightly, acknowledging him as her superior.

"Dearest Amira, my most faithful. I have a task I trust only you to do. Are you truly willing to do anything to serve me?" Voldemort asked in a cold voice. He looked deeply into her eyes, trying to break down her Occlumency barriers to find if what she said next was the truth. Amira did nothing to stop him; instead she lifted her barriers allowing him to see her unwavering honesty to her master. "I live only to serve you my Lord," she whispered in response. Though the words came out as a whisper, tickling her Lord's ears, they were full of loyalty and honesty.

"You were always my most faithful Amira, and now you will serve me in the most useful way. I require you to birth me an heir," he replied back. His most faithful servant looked into his eyes, a proud look appearing on her noble face. "Of course my lord, it would only bring honor to the House of Pendergast for me to give you an heir." Voldemort lips turned into a thin smile, "I knew you would agree with me my servant. You will give me a child, and I will honor you greatly." She shook her head in agreement "I will do anything for you my Lord."

6 MONTHS LATER

Ophelia,

Hello my dearest sister. I hope you are doing well. I am sitting in the Dark Lord's study writing this letter to you. It's becoming increasingly difficult for me to even do normal things because my belly has swollen quite large. It might come as a surprise to you, but that I am pregnant. I am not sure if the rumors of "Amira Pendergast's mystery pregnancy" have reached France, but anyhow, I have much to tell you. This pregnancy may not go as great as I would have hoped. In my womb, I can feel that the Dark Lord's child is very strong, and I fear I may not survive the child's birth. This new life will follow my death. I hope Dearest Ophelia, that if I die, you will raise the child on my behalf, and tell her that she was loved. I can tell that it is a girl, for her strength and stubbornness rivals my own! If I do die, please name her Dahlia Millicent (After our mother) Pendergast. And if I die do not hold a grudge against the Dark Lord. He will protect you as long as you protect the child.

Humbly, Your sister

Amira Pendergast

3 MONTHS LATER

Amira's body lay heavy against the cold, marble floor. Lines of sweat and dirt cover her forehead. She was in labor, the greatest testament to her unwavering loyalty to her cause. Every push and every contraction was a promise to Voldemort that she would do anything for him. Every push released shook her core, and showed her that her life was coming to a close, at the same time her daughter's began. "Keep going Miss Pendergast, you're always there," the Mediwitch called into Amira's ear. Amira turned her head, trying to compose a smile for the Mediwitch and her sister. The Dark Lord looked upon her from a distance, seeing his warrior fight her toughest battle. Another shriek escaped her lips, and Amira began pushing harder than ever. Every push showed the head of a tiny, tan baby. She continued to scream with ferocity, until finally the baby was out. Amira crumpled against the ground with a thud, and the Dark Lord ran to her side. "What has happened? I told you not to let her die. Crucio! Tell me what happened," he began to yell, causing the child to scream. "I do not know!" the Mediwitch continued to whimper with each passing wave of the Cruciatus curse.

Ophelia knew this would happen since the day she received her sister's letter, and prepared herself accordingly. When the time came, she did not even shed a tear, but focused on her niece, the child she would now raise. "Hello little one" she cooed into the baby's ear, "You'll be a great and powerful witch very soon my dearest Dahlia."