A/N- Written for the Hogwart's Games and for the OTP Boot Camp with the prompt ridiculous.
When she was a child her parents had instructed her and taught her a number of rules. Her mother had made it quite clear that, as a daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, she should be a flawless woman. She should conduct herself with grace and propriety so she could grow to be the perfect wife.
Of course, she had hardly listened to anything that escaped the lips of her mother and she swiftly abandoned any notion that she was only meant to be a wife.
Other lessons had a similar treatment. No matter how often her father and grandfather would tilt her chin up to face them, fix her with a severe look and state coldly, "Children should be seen and not heard," she could never take them seriously. Instead she just strove to be louder and continue speaking.
"Father," she wined from where she had moved to stand beside his armchair. Her father's grey eyes that were hidden behind gold rimmed spectacles did not twitch from her greying grandfather. He merely continued his conversation without any hint that he had heard her.
Bella's childlike face and chubby cheeks screwed themselves into irritation as she increased the volume of her voice. "Father!" she demanded loudly. Still there was no reply so she reached for the sleeve of his silk robe. "Listen to me!"
She did not notice the disapproving stare her father and grandfather shared nor did she notice the way her father's voice was tense and unamused. She only recognised the fact he had turned to face her. "Yes, Bella."
Swelling in the limelight and the attention that was bestowed upon her, Bella grinned exposing her missing front teeth. "Listen I memorised the tree." She looked from her father to grandfather without waiting for a response. There was none but she continued speaking. "Well Uncle Orion's father is Great Uncle Arcturus and his father is Sirius Black II."
She smiled with confidence and continued talking. She did not halt and she did not flutter. She merely continued to flourish.
Twenty years after that day, Bella could not remember those events. However, somehow those words and the countless other times she had said them echoed in her mind. Bella was a strong woman and she expected that she would be able to control every situation and to be able to constantly be the centre of attention. Her views would always be heard and, if anyone attempted to ignore her, she would curse them until they paid her attention.
However, at the age of nineteen, when her eyes found the impressive and majestic figure of the Dark Lord, she forgot about her ideology.
Mostly.
The Dark Lord's modest sitting room which was unbecoming and inappropriate for his statue and position was crowded with black robed Death Eaters who were equipped with bloodied and torn robes. Bella was the only female and one of the youngest yet she still pushed her way through the six men to kneel in front of the Dark Lord's leather armchair.
Staring down at her Lord's snowy face and sculpted features that were admittedly blurry and waxy, her breath was shallow from the thrill of the rush of blood and his insatiable presence. She waited with baited breath for his dark bloodied eyes to flick to her. She wanted him to stare, nod and maybe even smile slightly and communicate his pride at her success.
He did not.
The bearded Russian Antonin Dolohov instead had his attention. The man who had been designated as leader of the mission was kneeling closest to the Dark Lord and he was the one who had been questioned regarding the number of casualties and what had succeeded and failed. She had not been addressed once. It was killing her.
"And it was done according to plan?" The Dark Lord questioned his eyes focused staring down at Antonin and he was probably prepared to use Legilimency with only the skill he could possess.
Despite the fact the question was not directed at her she squirmed on the balls of her feet as she framed an answer.
"Of course, my Lord," Antonin replied in a thick Russian accent without pause, though Bella noted the fact he was focused on the Dark Lord's shoulder rather than his beautiful eyes. "There were no problems."
An image of her killing the Auror rather than the planned Antonin flashed in front of her eyes. Before she could help herself, she opened her mouth.
"My Lord I-" she murmured her voice softer than usual since she knew it was dangerous to interrupt him when she had not been addressed. When she was a child she could oppose her parents and speak up. It was not so simple with the Dark Lord. She would never fight him.
For the first time his gaze moved to her, but dread filled her veins at the harsh glare thrown at her while he raised a pale hand. "Silence," he said his voice still soft, but thick with authority and cold like a knife.
She cringed and immediately went quiet. His attention on her stopped and he turned away from her and back to Antonin. Vulnerable she wanted to plead for him to listen to her. She knew it was thoroughly ridiculous to think she could demand that the Dark Lord should pay attention to her, but still the urge remained.
It was very difficult to lower her head and remain silent.
Ice was digging into her. It seeped through her skin and froze her insides and what was left of her heart and soul. There was nothing to distract her from the numbing temperature. All around her there was nothing but coarse stone walls that were encrusted by scarlet stains which had materialised over the years.
Huddled within herself, Bellatrix lifted her head and stared into the darkness. Through the wrought iron bars of her cells she could only see was the few candle brackets which were not even bright enough to reveal the figures in the other cells.
However, even if she could see them, she would not have paid them any attention. Azkaban prison was a punishment not because of the surroundings or lack thereof, but because of what it did to a person's mind. Every moment her brain was filled with horror and terror. The worst experiences of her life constantly haunted her.
She could see that room again. She could see herself kneeling beside her Lord and trying to speak. Now the voice of her Lord echoed in her mind. "Silence," he hissed with all the cold fury and with his awe inspiring power.
She cringed and tried not to cry out as she lifted her head. He was with her. He would be with her soon and she would see him again. He would reward her above everyone else and she would always have the position by his side.
Smiling to herself, her dark eyes gleamed in a way that was not exactly healthy or sane as she opened her mouth. "My Lord, listen to me," she murmured her voice soft like that day in her Lord's sitting room. There was no one around to tell her to be silent and the original thought to think speaking to the Dark Lord this way was ridiculous was strangely absent. "I did it, my Lord. I killed the Auror. I did it for you, Master. I would do anything for you."
In her mind's eye those beautiful pale lips that she desired to press her own to curled upwards in approval. "Anything, Master," she muttered again like a mantra. "Anything Master! Anything Master! Anything Master!"
Her voice echoed around the halls of Azkaban She did not care. Finally her Lord was listening and finally he could hear how her loyalty was absolute.