Home, dark home
There was darkness. Pure, undiluted darkness. Oh and screams, so high-pitched screams. How he loved it. There was a time, when he screamed, though nightmares can't compare to reality. Crucio can't make justice to what he is able to do now..
Those sweet eyes, full of hatred and pleading for mercy at the same time. Just the way he loves it. The eyes of the betrayed. Though they were the first. It was poetic to give it back. And back he gave it. Really ironic.
He wouldn't change a thing even if he could. Those betrayals helped him broke the golden mask. The mask, he was forced to wear. But no longer. He was home. He felt magnificent. He was dark and enjoyed it. He bowed to no-one. On the contrary few were who didn't bow to him.
One was his lover. His life with those beautiful blood-red eyes. Oh yes. He truly loved to see the crimson flow. Even his robes were dark crimson, so it did not stain.
And now, he was content. He had everything. He proved himself.
He was home.
Really home...