First fanfiction ever. I hope you guys enjoy the first chapter!

June 1980

"He sent a present, my Lord."

"Is that so, Lestrange? And what may that be?"

Rodolphus Lestrange snapped his fingers. In walked six men who were carrying a litter on their shoulders. It was made of heavy, dark wood and engraved on the bed frame were vines and roses. It had four posts, that was covered with a green silk canopy.

The Dark Lord chuckled.

"What is this, Lestrange?" He asked.

"Well…." Lestrange began.

The men carrying the bed all got down on one knee. The canopy began to open up and revealed a young girl, dressed green bustier that sparkled everywhere and her thighs were covered by a silk blanket. Around her neck, wrists, ankles and fingers were an assortment of jade and gold jewelry that seemed to weigh her down. She had dark, black hair The Dark Lord couldn't make out distinct features of her face because she wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Nakamura decided to send me a jeweled prostitute as a gift? Is he insulting me, giving me a filthy non pureblood whore?" growled under his breath.

"I think you should take a closer look at her, my Lord," said Lestrange.

"Raise your head, child," Voldemort said.

Slowly her head raised. It revealed dark almond eyes that were precisely lined in black eyeliner, golden skin that shimmered, heart shaped lips that had been covered in red lipstick. There was another thing. This girl was extremely young. She couldn't have been more than sixteen years old.

"His daughter?" Voldemort asked.

"Yes, my Lord. A pureblood girl, she will be fifteen a few months from now," Lestrange replied.

"And why has he sent you, girl?" Voldemort asked, directing his voice toward the litter.

"My father feels that he has not proven his loyalty to you, my Lord," she said, and to both Lestrange and Voldemort's surprise, she did not sound fearful. "He has decided to give you what he considers to be the most important thing in his life: his oldest daughter. And with it, you may do as you please."

She lowered her head down once again.

"Men," Voldemort barked, "Send her to the farthest room to the right side in the northeast wing."

The men got on their feet and marched in unison out of the main room.

"Lestrange, go with them," Voldemort ordered.

"Yes, my Lord," Lestrange replied.

"Another thing, Lestrange," Voldemort said.

Lestrange turned around quickly.

"Make sure your wife does not see her," he smirked.

Lestrange nodded and followed the men.

As the young girl arrived to a dark bedroom, she felt a heavy feeling in chest. "You know what you must do," she thought to herself. Two weeks ago, she was just finishing her fourth year at Hogwarts. She had heard people speak of the Dark Lord, and most in a negative tone. However, her parents adored him. Worshipped him. Would do anything for him. And to prove that they were more faithful and subservient to him than the Lestranges, they sent their eldest daughter as a gift. Most girls would deny or rebel against her parents, but this girl didn't. She felt obligated by her family to do as they command, and to uphold a reputation for them.

The girl was placed on one of the largest four poster beds she had ever seen. It was covered in a puffy green comforter and there were assorted green throw pillows all around.

She waited for an hour, sitting still on the bed, waiting for her new master. Her eyelids began to lower until she felt something touch her calf. It was cold and slimy. And when she looked down she screamed.

A large cobra hissed at her and just before it unclenched it's jaw, the doors of the bedroom swung open and Voldemort hissed the snake away.

"Thank you, my Lord," the girl said.

"What is your name, girl?" he asked

"Alaida, my Lord," she replied.

"Sleep, Alaida," Voldemort said as he turned around to leave, "This doesn't mean you'll be getting rest."

Confused, she closed her eyes and laid down. As soon as the door was shut, she drifted into a dream.

Alaida was in a river the water reaching just above the nipples of naked body. Her black hair curled underwater and she smiled as she let the water take her farther down the river. The sky was beautiful and golden. Red birds chirped in tall trees. The grass around was lush and alive. The sun beamed on her and warmed her face. And she felt… at peace.

Suddenly, Alaida realized the river was turning into a waterfall. She tried hard to swim to the side, but it was useless. The water rushed her toward the end. The sky was suddenly dark and gray. Red birds turned into ravens. The grass now looked black. And the moon seemed distant and cold.

She screamed as the waterfall took her down. Her back fell on the rocks and she moaned in pain.

Alaida awoke to a pointed end of a wand at her throat, and Voldemort atop her, naked.

"Did I say you may make noise?" He asked her.

"No, my Lord, I'm sorry," she replied.

"You will not make noise. You will not move. Your body is no longer your own. It's now a tool that I will use when I need it. Your soul is no longer your own. It is mine to bend. Your voice and actions are mine now. You will do as I say. Do you understand?" He smirked at her.

She looked into his eyes, and it scared her. They were dark brown, but they seemed to be turning maroon, and they were bloodshot. It seemed his whole face was sunken. His face looked hollow and tired, there were heavy eye bags underneath. His dark curls were thinning out. His skin appeared so pale that you could see his veins.

"Yes, my Lord," Alaida replied as she turned her head. She caught a glance of the floor and could see her sparkling, green outfit torn off.

Voldemort's skin felt so cold to her, but she felt something burning hot between her legs.

"Don't make noise and don't move," he ordered.

She laid still. Voldemort touched her inner thighs with his cold fingers and stretched her legs out the farthest they could go. He slowly pushed his hips and entered inside her.

It was the worst pain she had ever felt. Her insides felt like they were ripping apart. She bit her lip as hard as she could, as to not make a sound. He wasn't slow either. She began to bleed. It only seemed to make him move fluidly.

Then he stopped moving.

"You may make noise and move your body after this," he said as he looked at her. He didn't smile or anything, but his eyes seemed to dance. He raised his wand to her neck.

"Crucio!" he yelled.

A beam of bright red light hit her with the most excruciating pain ever. It felt as if someone has poured liquid magma on her organs, as if someone was shredding her apart. She screamed out in agony and she couldn't help but to move and thrash underneath him.

Voldemort laughed at her and didn't stop.

And that was how The Dark Lord's first and only child was conceived.