Princess

by immabookgeek12

Voldemort is evil. It's a known fact. His enemies hate him for it. His followers worship him for it. But what set it off? What if Voldemort loved someone and lost her? What if that unimaginable union produced a child. A daughter of the most twisted mind of the magic world. What if Voldemort never loved her, but thought of her as a tool, no more than a tool in his plan. So he trains

1. Prologue

Voldemort's POV

I paced around the room. A weak laugh emitted from the bed in front of me. "Stop it. You're giving me a headache" I looked back at her. She was so thin, all skin and bones except for the giant protruding belly that was hidden under the blanket that covered her. It hurt to look at her. The doctors had warned us of the risks, but Rose had wanted a child so bad. I should have forced her, should have made sure the child would not grow but I didn't. And now, my Rose was dying and the child was in the other room, alive, with life stolen from her mother. I would kill it, kill the child. I sat on the small stool next to Rose's bedside. "You're going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine." She shook her head. I doubted my own words. There was blood everywhere and the only woman strong enough to love Tom Riddle lay pale and nearly lifeless. She spoke, for what was the last time. "No. You will take care of our daughter. You and our daughter will sustain, survive. I will never leave you. I love you." Her eyes closed. For a second, I refused to believe that she was gone, that she was lost to me forever. Then, I wasn't the man with the strongest dark magic in the magical world. I was only a man who had lost the only person he had ever loved. In my cries, I lost my only humanity. I could have run out and killed our daughter right then, but keeping her was the last thing Rose had asked. And I had never been able to deny her anything. And that had killed her. The child was wrapped in a black blanket that matched my mood. She had the same big blue eyes her mother had and they made me soften somewhat. "Phoenix..." I whispered the name Rose had chosen. Phoenix was my daughter. I would train her and I would use her to execute my plans in her mother's memory. She would be as dark as me. She would never feel this pain I did today. I would make sure she would not be human enough to break her heart like I mine was broken today. She would be a Phoenix rising from the embers of her mother, she would make me proud.