Amazons by Rumors
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing. Mira is mine, however. If you want to use her, just ask, ne?
Bella looked about the nursery, bored. Her sisters were babies. Andy was three and Cissa wasn't even one yet! How could her mother expect her to play with them? Cissa wasn't even in the nursery. She got up from where she was sitting, smoothed out her little dress – it was pink, a color her mother insisted all little girls loved and forced her to wear – and went to the large door of the play room. She picked her way over the toys strewn over the floor, knowing that it was Andy's fault the room was like this. Bella always put her toys away, and out of reach of her sisters.
The nanny elf, Rolly, had left on a fake errand for Bella. It was now or never to escape. She slowly pushed on the door; just far enough to poke her head through and looked around to make sure the coast was clear. Not a parent or House Elf in sight, Bella opened the door wider to leave the nursery when a hand grabbed the hem of her dress. It was Andy, looking scared. "Don't go, Bewwa. Mummy said we wewen't to weave."
Bella snorted and mustered all the arrogance a five year old could. "I'm five and I can go where I want. I'm the oldest." In a fit of maliciousness she added, "Only babies stay in here." With that Bella pushed Andy down and back into the room. The other girl looked like she was about to cry, but Bella's warning glare silenced her. Bella made sure the door was firmly shut behind her before beginning her grand adventure.
Down the long hallway, she was Bellatrix the spy. Ducking behind tapestries and into small alcoves that held incredibly expensive works of art. Once she reached the end of the hall, the would be spy had a decision to make. Left, right, or forward. Going back was not an option she even thought of. What had her father said to her, not long ago? She leaned against a wall of an alcove, eyes closed, her hands pressed against the wood behind her. Trust the house, Bella. It knows you, has known you from the moment you were born. It will protect and guide you for as long as you live. Never will you be steered wrong by this house.
Bella opened her eyes. "I trust you, house," she whispered. A moment. Then a few more. She felt it, a small sense of knowing the house, knowing where she could go to be alone for a few hours, or to get to the kitchens without ever being seen, what to push and pull to open the secret ways of her home. Not all was reveled to her, and she understood that the house would not give her everything right away. She had to prove her worth. And she knew that it would always inform her father of her whereabouts if he wished it, as was proper. But she could escape her mother, of that much she was certain.
She left the relative safety of the alcove and started down the path the house had suggested to her. Bella had never been to this part of the house, but dimly she knew it was the portrait gallery. Generation upon generation of Blacks had their likenesses hung here. It was not often that the portraits received visitors, so every single one of them hailed her with a greeting. She nodded to all of them, but kept going. The people here were former heads of the family and most of them men. The house instilled a sense that what she wanted was further down the line.
Soon the hallway would end. A tall window let in the bright summer sunlight that spot lit the dust motes dancing in this part of the house. "Hello child," came a warm voice from her left. Bella turned, and was mightily impressed. It was a portrait of a woman, but not some small, thin boned woman like her mother. This woman was tall with a solid build, and beautiful. She was a warrior. Her long raven hair was swept back, to keep her dark blue eyes clear of unnecessary obstructions. The name plaqueupon the portrait named this matriarch Mira. At that moment, Bella wanted nothing more than for Mira to be her mother. This was a woman she could have learned great things from, instead of having to sit though manners lessons.
"Hello," Bella returned. Mira raised an eyebrow and Bella hastily added, "Ma'am." Bella was annoyed at being bossed around by a portrait. But then Mira smiled widely, showing perfectly white teeth, and Bella felt honored.
"Now, who are you?" The tone was less than flattering.
"I am Bellatrix Black, the oldest." This was stated proudly, with her chin defiantly thrust up and out.
Mira's eyes widened in surprise and pleasure. "The oldest? Well, no wonder you are here then. It has been a good many years since a woman was the oldest of a generation of Blacks, but I doubt you will ever disappoint, Bellatrix. You are stronger than you know."
The information about Bella's importance and the kind words from the long dead woman were like a rush of wind that buoyed her upwards. "Please, call me Bella, ma'am."
"Bella," Mira said as if she was tasting the word for its fundamental characteristics. "Yes, I think I will. But do not forget the importance of your full name. And call me Mira. Ma'am is too stuffy."
"Importance of my full name? What is it, Mira?" Bella's curiosity, never that difficult to rouse, was fully invested in anything that involved herself.
"Bellatrix is the Amazon star," Mira explained. Bella's expression remained uncomprehending, but attentive. Mira continued. "The Amazons were a group of women warriors. They were proud and strong, and they did not head or fear any man." At that, Bella's eyes widened. So it was true. Women could be as strong, or stronger than men. They could rule themselves and others. Not all of her own gender was as weak as her mother or as eager to please as her aunt. It all made so much sense to her and made her recall the events of last week.
The Malfoys were coming over for a visit. They had a son of about Bella's age. Lucy-something, which was a funny name for a boy. The adults wanted to see if their children could get along. An alliance between the two families would have pleased them. All Bella knew was that she was forced into an uncomfortable dress, her hair had taken forever to do, and that she was not allowed to go running, jumping, or do anything fun today.
When the other family arrived, they came with a small blonde boy in tow. He was slight and fair, and he looked as miserable as Bella felt. As the introductions were made, the boy looked down at her, as if he was better than she was. Bella glared right back at him. Their mothers were oblivious. His father was praising Bella's poise and assured her own father that his little girl would be quite a beauty one day. Her father said nothing. He caught his daughter's eye and made a minimal gesture with his hand. "Go on outside," was the indication.
Bella smiled with relief. She led the boy outside and kicked off her shoes and took off her socks. "Why are you doing that?" the small boy disdainfully asked.
"Because, it's a bit muddy still and I don't want to get my nice shoes dirty." The statement was matter of fact. Bella was irritated with Lucy's superior attitude.
Lucy snorted. "I'm not walking through mud. Anyway, you're just a girl, you shouldn't be doing anything."
Bella said nothing, but walked out to the lawn, and stopped in between two fair sized mud puddles. Lucy, not to be out done by a girl, followed her. But as he drew even with her, she pushed him directly into the mud puddle on her right without any warning. He started to cry. "Just a girl that beat you, Lucy!" she yelled.
His crying and her yelling drew the adults outside. His parents declared that their precious son would never be married to such a little monster, and that Bella needed more training in how to be a proper lady if she ever were to catch a husband. Bella's mother was all but groveling in apology. Her father eyed her, his look promising that he would know why she had pushed the boy down.
Once the Malfoys had left, her mother and father dragged her into her room. Her mother proceeded to berate her for her rudeness and tried to impress upon her the grievous social affect this would have. But at five, it was a bit beyond Bella. All she knew was that she had been insulted and that was not to be allowed.
Her father quietly broke into her mother's tirade. "Bella, what happened outside?" His voice was not accusing, merely interested. Bella related the story and her father sat back and nodded. "Stop it, Calliope. She stood up to that snot of a boy, so I say good for her." He paused to look at her mother. Bella was transfixed by this rare occurrence. "We have daughters, but that does not mean I expect any less of them. I would have them as strong as sons. No, stronger. And Bella needs to be the strongest of them all. She is the oldest and will be my heir." Command rode her father's voice.
"But, Rigel, she needs to know how to be a proper lady," her mother pleaded.
"No, give her manners lessons, if you must, but she will learn everything a son should know and more. I would see her stand tall and proud. Take Narcissa and Andromeda to be proper ladies. Bella is mine to raise." Her father stood. He stared down her mother until she bowed her head, and in that moment Bella lost all respect for her mother. Her allegiance was now given to her father.
The next day was the beginning of the manners lessons.
Mira nodded, and made sympathetic noises at the right places as Bella related her story. It comforted the child to know that an adult besides her father could understand her. "I remember when your father would come down here to talk to us. He was very much like you, know you." Bella smiled, proud to be compared to her father. Mira was about to speak again when an elderly man stepped into her frame. He whispered to Mira and the woman's eyes moved to the girl and glittered as if she was amused.
The whispering only served to make Bella feel like she was stupid. She indignantly stamped her foot. "I demand to know what is going on."
The old man turned to face Bella, livid. "Now see here, young lady. You will not speak to me so. I am–!"
Whatever he was Bella never found out because Mira cut him off. "You are an old goat who should go back to molesting the nymphs in the pastoral painting on the third floor." The old man left without further complaint. Mira turned back to Bella. "Your mother is looking for you. I think you should go back to the nursery for now. Tonight, talk to your father about seeing me tomorrow."
Bella saw the wisdom of not getting caught, so she went back to the baby room. That night she talked to her father about Mira. He agreed. Mother pursed her lips, but said nothing.
For the rest of the summer, Bella sat in a recently cleaned gallery and listened to Mira weave tales of times long ago when she was alive and powerful and respected. How muggles served them and knew their proper place. Wizards and witches did not have to hide behind any Ministry and the Great Families ruled the world. Oh, it was glorious, Bella thought, to be so powerful. To command so well. It was a dream of an ancient time that could never be again. The lines were watered down, mudbloods and half-bloods were everywhere, forcing a society older than any other to change all on the filth's own terms. It sickened her.
The seasons turned, as they are wont to do and Bella began her home lessons in figures and writing nicely. And reading. That was her favorite. Every free hour she had would be spent with Mira, relating all she had learned from her books, with the woman commenting on what the girl had discovered. Her father began to teach her in simple terms about the running of an estate and various business ventures that the Black family engaged in at the moment. As summer returned, Bella felt the irresistible urge to venture outdoors. Mira noticed the girl's restless energy warring with her desire to stay with Mira and learn more. It was not long before Bella was given a small picture frame with a cliff face setting. Her father had given the hand sized object to her one day, explaining it was for her and Mira so the woman could accompany Bella outside. Bella had hugged her father for the first time then.
Occasionally, when there was company Bella's mother banned her from keeping the small trinket with her then. Lucy had come over again, this time he did not insult her and she showed him the portrait gallery. He seemed duly impressed by her ancestors. By the end of the summer, they had become grudging friends. She even remembered that his name was Lucius, not Lucy.
Through it all, Mira instilled all the pureblood ideals and prejudices in the young girl.
For six years, Bella's closest friend was Mira. Her sisters were bothersome at best, her cousins annoying, and Lucius wasn't around enough to be entertaining. But once she had received her Hogwarts letter there was a tension between the two of them. Mira found that she vaguely resented the girl for her ability to move about freely and experience the world while she was trapped here in this parody of life. What really rankled was that Bella had decided to leave the small painting that Mira could travel in at home. The girl said she needed to stand on her own. Well, where would that girl be without her? Still some brash child that could not think further than a few hours. Now, now she was wise and leaned beyond her years, but still wonderfully spunky and forthright.
The girl would go far and do well. Mira hated her for a brief moment. But then the eleven year old came around the corner, smiling. It would be a long year for Mira, but not unbearable. The girl had promised to write.
Bella had graduated from Hogwarts. Downstairs from the portrait gallery, a party was going to honor the graduate. Mira waited for it to quiet down and Bella to come to her. Over the years they had been as close as ever, despite the physical separation. Mira did take small satisfaction that Bella trusted the painting of a long dead woman over her own mother. Soon the young woman came down the long hallway. Every time she did, Mira noted the changes in her. She held herself taller, prouder. Walked with a more assured stride. And the smile on her face was radiant. Mira felt a small stirring of maternal pride. She had helped to raise this young woman, and could not be more proud of her.
Bella was elated. "Mira," she said. "Oh, it is good to see you again."
"It's good to see you too, Bella." Mira smiled.
"I suppose Father told you of my assignment?"
Mira shook her head.
"Well, you know how he likes to stay home and leave travel to others, and how I wish to travel on my own." If it was possible, Bella grinned even wider. "I assume you know where this is going."
"That is wonderful, Bella." There was a note of falsehood in Mira's voice. Bella would notice it.
"It is, isn't it? But I have decided that I would like you to accompany me while I travel. You often have sound advice and it would be helpful to have your opinion on some things. And I know you would not coddle me."
It was a week later when Bella departed to Moscow, Mira's miniature painting carefully wrapped and stowed in Bella's travel bag.
Bella was more than a little nervous to reveal to Mira her allegiance to Lord Voldermort. It was not his ideals, but his methods Mira might disapprove of. Mira's disapproval was one of the things she feared the most, next to her father's, and now her Lord's. When she revealed to the other woman to whom she had pledged, a fierce light came to Mira's eyes.
"That is how it should be done, my dear. Not by grabs for scraps of power but taking it for yourself." Mira's tone and far away look told Bella that the woman had done just that in her own time. She was an Amazon. Like Bella would be. Women warriors. Bella knew the world would bow at her feet. And she had Mira to thank.
They were going to find her soon. Then she would be thrown into Azkaban. Rodolphus and Rabastan were in their room, sleeping. Most women would be spending their last few nights of freedom with their husbands, but right now she did not want sex. She wanted to say goodbye to a friend. "Mira," she whispered.
"Is it true? Do they hunt you for doing right?" Mira's voice was strained with disbelief.
"How did you know?"
"Cissa." Mira paused. "In my day you and your friends would have been exulted." The portrait had gone wistful.
Bella shook her head. "We are not in your day, Mira. But do not worry, I will return. The faithful will be rewarded."
They lapsed into silence. Bella gripped the guilt frame tightly for a moment before turning back down the hallway. She would give the miniature picture to Cissa. They would comfort each other in this. Bella slipped into bed with her husband, his brother on the other side of them. Soon she was asleep. The next night, her bed was a stone pallet.
Upon her release by her Lord, Bella renewed her bonds with the Death Eaters, both faithful and false. Her husband had fared well. Her brother-in-law had not. It caused them both grief. Lucius had pressed a small thing into her hands. It was Mira's travel picture. In her first spare moment she had sat down and called to Mira. When the woman stepped into frame, relief flooded her face. "Bella," the woman implored.
"I have returned, Mira. We all have." A fanatic light leapt in Bella's eyes. "We will end what we began."
Mira nodded, sure that nothing would stop her descendent. "Good."
Together they grinned.