I do not own the Millennium Trilogy.

Wouldn't want to.

Pretty Little Dominos

All the pretty little dominos. They had all fallen into place, one by one. Over the course of many years and many misadventures.

And it had started with her father, Karl Axle Boden. Alexander Zalachenko. Zala. The rat bastard.

She supposed that she should be grateful that he was her father.

He had, in his own way, helped to save the lives of so many helpless, innocent women. Women he did not, could not have even known.

By being such a monstrous person, by ruining her life before it had scarcely begun. He had initiated the long, frequently painful process that had shaped her into the person she was now.

There was not a hell deep enough, cruel enough reserved for him. Him and all his little minions. And if there was such a place, he could only be buried ten feet beneath it.

Lisbeth firmly believed each and every person should be held accountable for his or her own actions. Everyone had to make their own choices. Everyone had to take full responsibility for themselves. As did she. She took full responsibility for every action she had ever taken in her life.

Still, she could not deny the extreme impact of her father on her life.

Brutalizing her mother until the woman was a brain damaged shell of a person. Unable to care for her daughters or even herself. Lisbeth had torched the man while he sat in his car. As punishment for her mother. And for her actions, Lisbeth had been rewarded.

With incarceration at age twelve.

With Dr. Peter Teleborian. Another deceptive little domino.

She had fought against him the only way she could at the time. Complete and total rejection. After she had figured out that no one would listen to her and help her she had completely cut off any and all authority figures. But he, oh he and his restraints. And his legal documents. And his medical jargon. And his friends in high places.

They had all kept her under their thumb.

More pretty little dominos.

Not all the dominos were corrupt antitheses of their intended purpose.

Holger Palmgren, for instance. He had proven to be a loyal ally, a good man. Though she had never wanted to admit it at the time. He had cared. And he had helped.

And that Dragan Armansky, that little Armenian domino. Giving her a job. Watching her with his dark eyes. But ultimately, ascribing her to the life changing assignment that was Mikael Blomkvist. And indirectly, the entire Vanger clan of freakshows.

And of course there was him. That sadistic, barbaric, brutalizing pig. Advokat Burjman.

There were no more words or thoughts for her regarding that particular little deceased domino. Face down. Forever.

Of all the dominos that had led her up to this point, she supposed Mikael Blomkvist was the most enigmatic to her. He simply lived his life exactly as he saw fit. He accepted her as she was and did not require more of her than she was willing to give. And he, in turn, did not offer more than he was willing to give.

She smiled at this domino even as she knew it could fall on her the hardest when it fell down. And inevitably, all the pretty little dominos always fell down.

But if she had never been tapped to investigate Kalle Blomkvist, had never been tracked down by him, had never gotten involved in the Harriet Vanger case, so many more women would have died. Martin Vanger, the domino demon of the ninth level of Hell, would have kidnapped, tortured, and murdered so many more women.

Countless lives had already been destroyed.

How many more lives would have ended if Karl Axle Boden had decided to leave Agneta Sofia Salander alone and allowed Lisbeth and her twin sister Camilla to grow up normally?

Teenage Lisbeth Salander. A normal, red-headed, freckled-faced girl in class. Socially adept and socially accepted. President of the Tech Club and the Chess Club. Being asked to dances by handsome boys who liked her bright smile and sharp wit. Twin sister and best friend of lovely Camilla. Sweet Camilla who reigned supreme in the debate club with ability to convince anyone of anything she said.

While miles away, more and more women suffered and died under merciless hands of the deadly CEO of the esteemed Vanger Corporation.

Young woman Lisbeth Salander. Attending university. Dating fine, upstanding young men who never considered abusing women during sex. Living with giggling roommates who marveled at her ability to flip an omelet, tell a joke, and use her photographic memory to recall the last time they swore they'd never take their cheating boyfriends back.

As Mikael Blomkvist hung bloated and dead from a knotted rope in a secret basement under the gleaming, demonic eyes of Martin Vanger.

How differently her life might have turned out. How much easier life would have been for Lisbeth Salander. How much happier. How much more simple for her.

But those little dominos had all fallen into place. Lisbeth's life had been severely altered from the norm. And because of that, through a long, drawn-out series of events seemingly unconnected, Martin Vanger, the cruel beast of Hedgby, had been stopped.

And it had all begun with her father.

All those people helped, all those lives saved.

So, all in all, she supposed it was right to feel a little grateful toward him for all he had done.

Stubbing out her cigarette, she tossed it into the trash bin.

And decided she much rather just hate him instead.

That's something that's interesting to me about Lisbeth. She's intelligent, a deep thinker. But also, very absolute.

Some of us have good parental figures, some have bad. In the end, what really matters is what we choose to do with our lives when they are truly ours.

Thanks to Dani for your insightful review. We definitely see eye to eye here. :)

Thanks to spinnefrau78, ChocoCookiesMe, brooklyn1shay2black3, and LostResidentEvilPotter for adding your support to this story as well.

Everyone appreciates feedback. Leave a review if you like.