This is for Round One of the Choice Pairings Competition which was thankfully Bella/Voldemort (though this will mean I may struggle in later rounds...). The prompts used were broken and free.

Enjoy

It was nearly midnight. The moon was peeking out from behind the overcast sky and a few stars could be spotted in the mass of inky black and grey clouds. It shone above the scene of a quiet sleepy village and an overlooking impressive and decrepit building coated in vines with boarded windows and crumbling stones. The manor was surrounded by grass that was once velvety and smooth, but was now turning steadily brown and mixing chunks of turf.

There was only one person outside.

With black robes fluttering around his heels and skeletal limbs, pale luminous skin, his monstrous appearance was only enhanced by scarlet eyes, snake-like nose, thin lips that were almost invisible and a face and head that was completely hairless. His face was stitched into a blank expression as his red eyes gleamed in the dark.

Taller than a normal man with a presence that raised the hairs on everyone's neck, he was terrifying.

Lord Voldemort's lips thinned even further as his eyes scanned the expansive lawn.

They should have been here by now.

Since he had regained his body more than six months ago, there were specific goals and plans that he had devised. Like a check list, each had been accomplished or were being completed. It was so simple; his return had been mostly hidden, the numbers of Death Eaters had increased, the giants had joined the cause and the dementors had re-established their allegiance.

It left the path clear for one crucial catalyst; Azkaban needed to be broken open and his Death Eaters needed to be freed.

The Death Eaters had been sent out confident in the knowledge the dementors would stand to the side and the prison gates would slither away.

Minutes ticked over faulting his impeccable timeline until, finally, the bangs and cracks of apparition filled the air. In the distance, red eyes flicked over twenty masked and hooded figures each carrying a broom.

One also carried a body.

Clad in grey stripped prison robes, they were more like emaciated sacks of potatoes and corpses than living people. A few of the escapees leaned on Death Eater like they were crutches while some needed to be dragged and heaved. One was even held like a child.

His eyes focused on her.

The only female in the group, her black hair was greasy, mattered and was long enough that it covered her face and almost touched the ground. As she and the Death Eater who held her drew closer, he could see jutting ribs and bones through the large tears in her robes.

Drawing his gaze from the woman to the rest of the Death Eaters who halted before him and bowed respectfully, he allowed himself the luxury of displaying his pleasure as his lips curled slightly into a smile. The hooded figures were unaffected by his presence, but the same could not be said for the escapees. The corpse like figures stared at him with awe through dead hollowed eyes.

"My Death Eaters," he greeted raising his arms in a welcoming sign, "past and present. The fold is united once more. My loyal followers who will all be rewarded for their loyalty are now free. It is just how it should be."

Like flicking a switch, the bodies of the freed followers fell to their knees without prompting. There were murmurs of assent and praise. The Dark Lord soaked it up like a sponge even more content than before.

"There will be time to act and plan later, but that time is not now. Now you need to rest and re-cooperate after what you have suffered. Now I have made arrangements for everyone accommodations. Travers, Mulciber and Rookwood you will be lodged with Ya-"

He was interrupted by a high pitched shriek. After the Death Eaters had reached his side, he had stopped paying attention to the unresponsive, presumably unconscious woman in Malfoy's arm. In a rare occasion, he appeared to have been wrong as she had started withering and fight Malfoy's grip. Shocked Malfoy released her and she dropped to the ground like a stone piercing through water. In her state he assumed her bones could have easily shattered, though, if they had, she ignored them.

"Master!" she cried loudly and reverently as she tried to crawl towards him. The once strongly built and now writhed figure of Rodolphus attempted to hold her back, but in a sign that Azkaban had not changed her too much, she pushed him away and did not stop until she was directly at his feet like a puppy. "Master! My Lord! Master!"

Staring up at him through the tendrils of what had been silk like hair, he could finally see a clear view of her face. Voldemort had never had much stock in physical attractiveness, other than as a tool for manipulation, but, in the past, even he had labelled her as beautiful. With trappings of her Black heritage she had possessed sculptured cheekbones, flawless pale flesh, dark lips and seductive eyes.

It was all gone.

Her skin was now practically grey, all her curves had wasted away to nothing, her teeth were yellow and rotting and her eyes were so hollowed it was as if only her skull remained.

The pride of his Death Eaters was broken.

"I'm sorry, Master," Malfoy murmured as he stepped over the still half outstretched arm of Rodolphus and moved to grab onto Bella. "She is not well. I can take her back to the Manor now if you desire."

"Not yet," he said silkily, his eyes remaining trained on his most faithful memorising and pondering what elements of her features had been destroyed or were merely changed, "Bella can stay here for now."

Malfoy nodded and stood back into place without fuss. Voldemort could see Bella's face lighten as she grinned broadly with cracked teeth, though he ignored the both of them and continued with his previous speech.

"As I was saying," he declared as if he dared anyone to interrupt him again, "Travers, Rookwood and Dolohov you will be staying with Yaxley. Rodolphus, Rabastan and Bella you will be staying with Lucius and the others will be occupying a safe house west of London owned by the Carrows. Go now. Healers will be there to examine and heal your injuries. I will summon you again when the time is right."

They all bowed practically as one as they all moved separately into the groups he had designated. He watched without attachment as the Death Eaters who had carried the freed prisoners prepared to apparate them again to their safe houses. He also saw Malfoy step forward towards Bella, but he stopped when Voldemort's hand closed around Bella's bony shoulder.

"My Lord?" she questioned, her voice a little unsteady and uncertain, but it did not stop her nudging his hand with the side of her cheek rather like a house cat.

"You have been loyal. Very loyal," he repeated repeatingwhat he had told the others, yet in a strange occasion, his address to her was honest. "Your loyalty will be rewarded beyond your dreams for all that you have suffered. You shall be healed and then you should serve me once again."

She smiled and let out what could almost be described as a giggle which he allowed considering the broken state she was in. "I live only to serve you," she said softly as she looked up at him using meaning only he could understand.

"And you will. Just not now."

Nodding to Malfoy, he gestured him forward. Apart from Macnair and Rodolphus, who had not taken his dull eyes off his wife, he was the only other figure who remained. "Take her. As I said, I expect them all to be healed and ready to serve, Bella especially."

Despite the praise, her face fell.

"Of course," Malfoy replied. He bowed low and took the now limp and defeated Bellatrix into his arms.

Voldemort watched calmly as Lucius secured her. "I will see you all soon," he said to the remaining Death Eaters though his eyes lingered momentarily on Bellatrix. She was broken, but she could be fixed.

Without further word he turned on his heel and left the scene.

After only a week of waiting, he went to visit his broken Bella.

The halls of Malfoy Manor were dimly lit and quiet enough that every shuffle of robes was detectable and every footstep echoed.

Voldemort was undaunted.

He had no reason to fear. He never did.

Reaching the door he desired, he did not even consider knocking as he turned the handle and entered. It was darker than the hallway with the thick velvet curtains pulled tight and the only light emitting from the dying hearth illuminating the solitary figure hidden under thick blankets.

He paused for a moment; his eyes skating over the frame before he stepped closer.

She did not move. Evidently she was sleeping.

Not for long.

Staring down at her, he observed the small ball she was curled into and smirked while listening to her murmurings, "My Lord. Master. My Lord. Master. My Lord."

Eyes still on her back, he stretched out a hand for her shoulder. There was little skin or fat over the bone and it was colder to touch than he would have assumed, like his bones. His grip was not light, but hard and determined as he pulled her over so she was on her back.

She woke straight away.

There was a moment when black eyes widened and she opened her mouth to scream threats, but it disappeared as she focused on him and realised who he was.

"My Lord?" she mumbled in disbelief her lips savouring every syllable. "Am I still asleep?"

He chuckled lightly as he looked down at her. "No."

"Oh." Her eyebrows knitted together and a smile lit her grey and wasted away features. "Why- I mean Master may I ask, why you are here?"

He chuckled again as, with his other hand, he wrenched the blankets off her. She straightened and uncurled instantly as his eyes flicked over her emaciated figure that was covered in a pale green nightgown that he assumed it must have been her sister's.

"I think we have known each other for long enough to know why I would visit you in the middle of the night," he said simply as his hand left her shoulder to trail to the lace of her nightgown. She froze and the weight she had lost was even more apparent as her previous full bust had shrunken and sagged.

"I thought," she started breaths and flushed, "you didn't- I just mean I'm not the woman I was, my Lord."

"I am aware," he said with considerable disinterest as he pulled the nightgown over her head. She lifted herself up to allow him to remove it as he tossed it carelessly to the side. Without any clothing to mask her condition, her deterioration was only more obvious. She was so very different to the beautiful youthful and vibrant woman that he remembered.

He ignored that fact, instead he pressed his lips to hers. The years had changed them. Her lips had been plump and his had been normal, but the years had shrunk hers and reduced his so they were barely visible. It did not matter. His lips still fitting over hers and his tongue in her mouth still surged them both on.

Lifting himself onto the bed, he travelled his hands down her new and shrunken curves, but, as his hands slid under the waistband of her underwear, he was not particularly concerned.

The years had changed them, but these actions had not. Her body was still warm and willing under his fingers.

Looks meant little.

Power and obedience did. It was why he knew she was not really broken. Her loyalty still remained and that was what was important. As, if broken was just judged by appearances that had wilted away and good looks that had been lost, then they were both very broken.

As he shrugged off his own robes and Bella's hands ran over his body that had gone through even more severe changes, he was more content than he had been in months. It was not about foolish desires of love and affection, but what this purely was. She was serving him and he was gaining what he wanted.

That was all this was.

It only meant that they both garnered enjoyment from the act.

As he made use of his most loyal, he was feeling particularly pleased that she was free.