"There is a saying that the good die young. Perhaps, Bella, we shall be immortal after all." Voldemort said softly to the dark witch as they looked over the hilltop at the raging battle below them.
"And the good that fail to die, Master, I shall gladly aid their passing." Bellatrix replied as she stood next to her Lord, eyes cast on Him full of adoration and devotion.
Voldemort was pleased with her response and slowly turned His head to gaze at his first lieutenant who instantly dropped her gaze respectfully. "Indeed you would, I don't doubt you or your abilities, Bella. You are my most loyal are you not?"
"Yes Master, for you, anything you wish of me." She spoke it in a breathy pant, His praise was the equivalent of the utmost pleasure to her and her shining eyes where on Him again. Cool fingers brushed her neck, the tips skimming over the runic prison number tattooed onto her pale skin and Bellatrix almost swooned, her heart skipped and her breath caught in her throat.
She was His favourite, the only one He.. felt anything for, the only one He truly trusted despite her instability. But maybe she was His weakness also, a weakness He'd feel when He, the most powerful dark wizard in the world watched helplessly as His first, best lieutenant, His most devoted, His favourite, the mother of His child died before His eyes.
And Voldemort screamed.