Title: Nox
Author: DTaishou
Rating: T
Summary: ONESHOT—3rd Person POV. Sequel to Lux et Nox.
.oOo.
He had only been enamored with one thing, and that was Nagini. Their first meeting had always entranced him, haunted him, brought forth his darkest nightmares and deepest secret. She had been different then, just as she was different now. He could remember back to a time when he was merely a child and she the great Demon that persuaded him in Shadow's favor.
You have but one choice. There is no going back.
How right she was. Not that he wanted to go back, oh no, quite the contrary. He wished to drown in this euphoria of darkness, blood, shadow, this eternal paradise of power. She had made possible his cause and had given him the power, ability, prowess to do so. The taint was slowly disappearing. It would take time. Time that he was free to expend.
A true Slytherin. Salazar would be proud.
He dared to think so. After all, his ideals and goals were set in the great Slytherin Founder's name. The Master Serpent Charmer, hailed for his brilliance in parselmagic and Parseltongue, cursed for his brilliance in parselmagic and Parseltongue. Simple but effective brilliance that brought forth a plethora of learning and knowledge to his heirs and followers. His heir he was, his follower he was not. He was his own man, his own Dark Lord.
Power. Power to achieve your goal.
She had given him much more than that. Power, his love, passion, obsession, given unto him from the Demon of the Dark, but the greatest gift of all: alliance and constant presence of the Demon herself. He understood now why Salazar had been so revered, so praised, so feared. He had possessed this Demon's allegiance, her power, her cunning, her brilliance. This did not discredit the Founder in anyway in his eyes. It merely brought the two closer together as a Lord and his Heir. The Lord had chosen mortality, while the Heir sought something greater.
Taint comes from choices.
Ah, choices. The choice for this particular taint was not gifted to him but his despicable parents. His pathetic mother, though he did not refer to her as such, who dared to sully the revered Slytherin blood with his wretched muggle father, whom he had taken upon himself to kill. The taint remained, although it was slowly dwindling and dissolving. The Demon was helping, her constant presence and power slowly morphing the taint into something beautiful, something worthy of the Dark Lord.
Listen, and listen well, boy. Should you come with me, here unto you I bestow my first teaching.He had listened more intently than ever before in his life. He had not paid this much attention in school; he had not listened to his insistent twinkling and half-truths; he turned away from the Angel's pleas and sobs. He listened only to her Darkness, and the Shadow had burned through his veins, soul, blood, body, heart, mind. She claimed him as hers, belonging to the Demon, the Dark Lord was snared.
There is no good and evil. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it.
She did not lie. She never lied to him. But this was her greatest truth, the most powerful lesson she ever taught him. Illusions forced upon him by foolish schoolteachers and political figures were distorted and harmful, but those clear statements, unadorned and naked, broke into his mind and ensnared his entire being. No good, no evil, no black and white. Only gray, darker gray, only shadows of truth and of light. Only Darkness, and only the Demon. This greatest truth, the driving force behind his actions, only served to pull him deeper into Shadow.
"Boy…" That familiar hiss, the sibilant voice. He turned from his paperwork and stood. A boy he was no longer in the eyes of man, but boy he was to the only one who was his superior. He knelt to the floor and brought forth his thin white arm from voluminous inky robes.
"I am here," he replied softly. Her massive length appeared to his scarlet eyes, and she twined up his body, along his arm, legs, thighs, chest, neck. Ever present was her power in the tight coils and bared serrated fangs. Ruby eyes met and the weight of coils disappeared to be replaced with the slender body of the Demon. She bore down upon him, using her lithe bulk to push him to the floor. He obeyed and collapsed to the stone.
"You are indeed here, boy. You have changed to the mortal eyes. With the eyes of the Serpent, I did not realize," the Demon hissed. Her bloody eyes raked down his thin but muscled body, and her dripping grin appeared. "A change for the better, perhaps."
He had grown. No longer was he the uncertain child that had stood at the crossroads with only his life in hand and death to look forward to. A man he had become, black-haired, white-skinned, ruby-eyed. To the mortals he was terrifying. To this Demon he was her slave. Her pretty willing slave.
"I should hope so," he said quietly. The Demon glared at him but he continued to speak. "How shall I call you when you are in this form? You are not my Serpent, Nagini. You are something else entirely." The Demon grinned the dripping, bloody grin and bent forward. Her knees pinned his legs and her hands his wrists. Her nose brushed his, and the scarlet eyes gleamed with something dark.
"I have many names, boy. Many names that I should hope you are familiar with. You have had the Devil and Lord wage battle over you, and yet you do not know my name?" She seemed cruelly amused, patronizing. He averted his gaze respectfully but could not stop the next request.
"Surely you prefer another title than the ones we mortals have christened you." The Demon paused in her rough roaming of his body. She seemed surprised. Perhaps this had never occurred before? He would be foolish to hope for such a thing.
"Such a curious little child you are, playing with that which you do not understand," she purred. Serrated fangs grazed his fragile skin, and he resisted the urge to shiver. Her touch was liquid fire to his skin, though he suspected that she willed it this way, for sometimes it was like ice.
"Such a curious, lovely, pretty child you are, offering to call the Devil by her Chosen." She nuzzled his collarbone, and her long black claws pricked the fragile skin of his inner wrists. He inhaled sharply as her fangs drew black blood from his throat but he knew better than to cry out.
"Curious, lovely, pretty, dark child," she crooned and lapped away the blood. He relaxed again, and she resumed the coarse exploration of his body. "Dear little Flight of Death, my Voldemort."
"How shall I call thee, Lady?" the Dark Lord gasped as she drew more blood. She grinned.
"To you I shall always be Nagini."