Just a quick prologue for my little story of Theodora.
WARNING: Child Abuse is heavily involved. Language is also violent.
The cold tile underneath my pale skin was a common feeling. I am used to my robes being ripped and I being hit to the ground. The growing bruise across my right cheek is just another for my collection. Another addition to my scars in all of their multitudes. I am used to being attacked without cause. Just another day in my house.
"THEODORA!" My dear mother, Marissa, yells at me as she approaches me to hit me again. She pulls me to my poor, scratched up, eleven year old feet by my long black hair, "How many times do I have to tell you, you fucking twit, to bow in the presence of your Lord?" She threw me to my knees in front of my Lord. I feel the tile pull the skin from my knees, but I dare not cry. If I cry in front of him, Marissa will lock me in the cupboard in the basement again. I hate rats.
"My… my Lord." I manage to squeak out.
The Lord stands and places his hand on my head, "Dear child. Fear me not, for I could not hurt you." I nod, fear, not of him but my mother, growing in my stomach. "MARISSA!" I hear my mother gasp at her name, "Leave us." I hear her tall heels clack against the white tiles as she leaves. Once the door slams shut behind her, I jump up and look at him. His black hair, stark against his milky skin and his deformed nose twitching slightly as he breathed were something anyone could see, but his most noticeable feature… at least to me was his eyes. My Lord had black eyes, as deep as the night sky and just as cold… and yet there is warmth as well. A love that he actively denies, but I know exists, shines through when he looks at me. He takes me in his long arms and holds me tight, "Oh, my dear Theo." He sighs, "Someday you shall be so strong. Someday you shall be a great witch worthy of any title." He looks deep into my eyes, "Someday, my dark princess, you shall rule beside me." He pushes me away, the tenderness gone and back to business, "But until then, I need followers and young ones." He sat in his black throne, places just under his picture in this black and white room. He pulls out a letter, addressed to me in green ink, which had been opened and read, but not by me. "I need you, Theodora, to go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and recruit those of your own age to my cause. Do you Understand?"
"Yes," I very shakily bowed, my hair almost touching my toes. When I stood straight, he was looking into my eyes, black on black. "Father."
Yes, I know very short. The rest should be longer and a bit more explanatory.
Theo