Author: PhirePhox666
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing/Characters: Harry/Ginny, Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Slash, het, mind-fuckery, violence, slightly twisted romance, a little Ginny!Bashing. AU
Summary: A myth, of darkness and purity. Of disrespect and consequences. Of power and love and the corruption of both.
Disclaimer: I do not own. Sadly. I do own this plot however.
Word Count: 1,669
Dedication: For Aslan.
Prompt: None.
Excerpt:
A/N: I originally wrote this as a myth set in the Harry Potter Universe. Then I adjusted it so that the characters could be interpreted as Draco, Harry and Ginny. This is an alternate universe and it ends... weirdly and sort of morbidly. I hope everyone likes it. Reviews and Flames are Welcome. Hope you enjoy.
Ice and Dark
In the heart of the forest there is a place where the snow never melts and the world is always ice-white and pristine and perfect. This place is said to be ruled by the shadow-man. The shadow-man is said to be dressed in all black silks and furs. His skin is said to be milky pale and his hair to be pale, almost white, blond. His eyes are the most frightening of his fair features, however. They are also the most beautiful. They are a shade of blue so pale they are almost white in color and as cold as ice. They tell of the many, many horrors he's seen and perpetrated and the coldness in his heart.
The shadow-man rules his part of the forest easily, for few venture so deep. Rumors of him have reached far however, and there are the wise-women who warn their daughters and sons of the dangers of wandering in to his domain.
The daughter of the dawn does not believe. She scorns the myths and the words of wise-women and often ventures where others do not dare, into the forest with no protection and little caution. The first time she goes where she should not she thinks the perfect realms of the shadow-man a wonder. The more times she ventures in the less wondrous it seems to her. She quickly grows jaded of the beauty that surrounds her and less wary of the warnings that follow her.
The shadow-man grows angry with her for her disrespect.
The lady of the dawn has many beaus for she is very, very beautiful. She is also very, very vain. She has copper hair, fiery and bright. Her eyes are `cornflower blue and her skin is a carefully cultured golden. She wears white dresses, pure white as the snow in the shadow-man's lands, to show she is untainted. It is a lie.
The lady of the dawn's most constant companion is a man who is known to us as the man in black. The man in black has hair the color of ebony, dark as the night sky. His eyes are bright, jewel green and sharp and clear. His skin is also golden, the golden of someone who spends much time in the sun. He wears black to her white, simple clothes to her elaborate taste. He both compliments and contradicts her beauty with his very being. And she both loves him and hates him for it.
She brings him to the deepest part of the forest, to the shadow-man's part of the forest, the heart. He is awed and entranced by the purity of the forest that surrounds him. He is so entranced he is surprised when she kisses him. He is not so foolish as to have ignored the wise-women and he feels a spike of fear. You do not sully the purity of the shadow-man's domain.
When the shadow-man appears silent and swift and barely disturbing the snow, both the a man in black and the lady of the dawn are inexplicably frightened. The lady of the dawn refuses to be cowed and straightens her shoulders in defiance even as a shard of fear pierces he when she meets his ice-eyes meet hers. The man in black steps in front of her, protecting her. For all that he wary of the shadow-man, he truly does love the lady of the dawn.
This gives the shadow-man a reason to pause, intrigued. Most who wander into his forest and dare to sully it are all to ready to abandon each other to save themselves from his wrath. This one boy (for to the shadow-man he is so terribly young) loves well enough to stand by the lady of the dawn even through his fear. This manages to cool the shadow-man's rage, if only slightly.
Then the lady of the dawn speaks.
"It's pathetic," her voice is cool and mostly calm only the hint of a tremble tainting her words, "that you would prey on the, admittedly foolish, beliefs of my people. You are naught but a mortal like me."
The man in black gasps, "My lady!" for it is a dreadful thing to accuse such a powerful being of a frailty like mortality. The shadow-man stares at her for a moment longer than an eternity and then a humorless smile graces his face. Without a word or movement from him she is bent over coughing horribly. They are great, hacking coughs from deep in her chest that sound desperately painful. The man in black glances over at the terrible figure of the shadow-man desperately and despairs at the cruel twist there is to that smile.
When the coughs finally subside there are ruby red stains in the powdery snow. Red that stands out so starkly against the otherwise complete and pure white. It is a sign of the shadow-man's power and the lady of the dawn will not make the same mistake twice.
"She cannot speak now." The shadow-man tells them, addressing only the man in black. "Now, you have a choice. You-" Here he gestures to the man in black, "come along with me, for one year, and she is forgiven. Her voice will be returned and no further punishment will be enforced." He sneers cruelly and the lady of the dawn flinches, fear in her pretty, blue eyes.
"Or?" Asks the man in black boldly, though his fingers trembled and his fear was evident in his eyes.
"Or you stay and she forever remains mute and slowly fading from the minds of those around her until she's hardly more than a wraith."
Both shuddered at the easy way he said this, the way her fate did not bother him in the least. The shadow-man already knew which decision would be made. The man in black truly loved her and his decision would be one that would keep her safest.
"I will go." Voice strong, back straight, hands clasped to keep them steady, eyes clear. The shadow-man admired him in that moment. The lady of the dawn trembled, moving as if to protest or pull him back but was subdued by ice-eyes piercing her through to her soul.
"You will not interfere. In a year you will see us again," he twitched a hand dismissively at her and the world began to blur and fade, "or not."
Before she could protest she was home, alone, and the last thing she'd seen was the shadow-man's cruel smirk. She sits down and, for the first time in her life, she cries for someone else's misfortune, without care that it might ruin her beauty.
A year passes, slowly for some, quickly for others. The lady of the dawn's fear and sorrow morphed and grew into indignant anger. Her voice had returned the same day it'd been taken but it was little use to her. She had not been able to woo any other man to her since she had lost her lover to the shadow-man. They were afraid, despite her assurances, that the shadow-man's anger had not truly left her untouched.
In the heart of the pure snow of the shadow-man's domain was his home. A castle, made of ice and crystal and marble. As cold and beautiful as he himself was. Here, in the heart of his captor's power, the man in black could not help but be changed. So slowly at first that he did not, could not, notice. And when he did notice he was too changed to wish to change back.
When a year came it was this changed man who greeted the lady of the dawn. When she saw him she thought him unchanged and almost threw herself into his arms with joy. He had come back! She had won! But she caught sight of the shadow-man. There was triumph, dark and heady, in his eyes. She paused mid-step and looked again at her lover. His hair was brighter, his skin had a shine that was almost ethereal in nature. Then she saw his eyes. They were green still, yes, but colder, more fey like. The eyes of a stranger, eyes much to similar to those of the shadow-man. He smiled at her, a stranger's smile, sharper than she was used to on his face.
"My lady," he said, sweeping her into and embrace and even his voice was different although she could not pinpoint how. She withdrew from the embrace for she found no comfort in it.
"You are coming back, yes? You are back?" She asks, desperation leaking in to her voice. He smiles again, razor sharp.
"No, milady. I thought I'd say goodbye." She chanced a glance at the shadow-man and his face was sharp and vicious and other-worldly with victory. She turned again to the man she had thought loved her.
"Stay." It was a demand, a plead, a whisper.
"No." His voice was steady and unyielding. Unapologetic. The shadow-man moved forward standing almost possessively by the man in black.
"You lose." He pulled the other man close, claiming his mouth, smirking at her triumphantly. She had to watch as her former lover melted against the shadow-man. She cried out, dismay evident, stumbling forward on suddenly numb legs.
They shimmered out of existence and her reaching, grasping, desperate hands met only air. There was no disturbance to her room, no sign that anyone had grace her with their presence. There was only a slight cold wind and the feel of ice on her skin. Ice on her skin, ice in her heart and the echo of fey-green eyes and a triumphant, cold smirk.
Finis.