For the Ultimate Patronus Quest (Crickets: Write about someone feeling guilty and why) and the Character Boost Challenge (Lysandra Black)
Warning for abuse.
"You will break off this engagement," Arcturus says firmly. "No daughter of mine will marry into a family as traitorous as the Weasleys."
Cedrella's eyes find her mother's, and Lysandra can see the pleading in them. Do something. Help me.
But Lysandra has made her vows. She has sworn to stand by her husband's side, to support him. Such vows can't be broken, even if it breaks her heart.
She can see the sudden chill in Cedrella's eyes as she realizes that no help will come. She stands tall and proud, her jaw clenched as she faces her father. "I love Septimus," she says.
Lysandra gasps in horror as Arcturus strikes their daughter hard across the face. She starts to reach out, but a glare from her husband makes her think better of it.
Lysandra hesitates. She hasn't been in Cedrella's room since that day. She doesn't know if she can bring herself to enter now. She's heard of how some parents leave their children's rooms untouched like a sort of shrine after their child's death. Of course, Cedrella isn't dead, but in Arcturus' eyes, she may as well be.
Not for the first time, guilt rests heavily in her stomach. She wonders if Cedrella is doing well, if she's happy.
Taking a deep breath, Lysandra steps inside, her hands shaking.
"Cedrella, be sensible," Lysandra pleads.
Her daughter scowls, tossing a dress carelessly into her trunk. "Sensible?" she mocks.
"You can't turn your back on family," Lysandra insists.
Cedrella grips a second dress so tightly that Lysandra fears the satin will rip. "I'm not the one abandoning my family, Mother. You are," she snaps.
The words sting as though Cedrella has slapped her. Lysandra takes a step back, looking away in shame. "I cannot defy my husband," she says. "I have a duty-"
"Of course. You married out of duty. I'm marrying out of love," Cedrella says. "Love should be more powerful than duty. The love of your child should outweigh your duty to your husband."
Lysandra reaches out but quickly drops her hands. There is no calming Cedrella now. "I wish things could be different," she whispers.
"They could be. If you'd find your voice."
Lysandra lays on her daughter's bed, clinging to her pillow. She misses Cedrella terribly. Mothers aren't supposed to have favorites, but she's always shared a closer bond with Cedrella.
And now her daughter is gone. Her daughter most likely despises her.
"Arcturus, please, stop her!" Lysandra begs, gripping her husband by the shoulders.
"I'd gladly stop her from marrying a Weasley," he says coldly. "But she's too damn stubborn."
Lysandra rushes to the window, watching Cedrella's retreating figure. She presses a hand against the glass as though it can somehow bring her daughter back.
"You have to cut off the disease, Lysandra," her husband. "It's the only way to keep the tree from rotting completely."
"She's our daughter," Lysandra insists, her voice strained as she fights back the tears.
"We have two daughters. Only two," he says. "You would do well to remember that."
"What were you doing in there?" Arcturus demands as she exits Cedrella's room.
Lysandra doesn't answer. She keeps her gaze fixed pointedly at her feet.
"That mess needs to be disposed of," he says. "It makes the house filthy."
"It's Cedrella's," Lysandra whispers. "It's all I have left of her."
He grips her by the wrist, and Lysandra can feel small bruises blossoming beneath his touch. "Gather it all," he says. "You will dispose of it."
"You could welcome her back," Lysandra says. "She's our daughter."
"We have two daughters," he reminds her. "They are both more than welcome in our home."
She wants to argue, to defy him just as Cedrella had. But Lysandra's words stick in her throat, guilt souring her stomach. Cedrella is a much stronger woman than she is.
Lysandra's hands tremble as she holds the last reminder of her daughter, a portrait from when Cedrella was eleven.
"In with the rest of it," Arcturus says.
"No. Please don't make me," she insists. "Let me have this one thing."
With a growl, Arcturus grabs the portrait from her hands. He tosses it into the fireplace where flames quickly consume it. Once it's burned beyond recognition, he returns his attention to his wife. "Defiance doesn't end well in this family," he says, gesturing at the fireplace for emphasis. "Remember that, Lysandra. Remember it well."
When he's gone, Lysandra rushes to the fire. She pulls the portrait away, ignoring the flames as they blister her skin. She extinguishes what she can, biting back a sob as she traces her fingers over the mess that was once her daughter.
She will keep it. Arcturus will never know. Her defiance will not be as bold as Cedrella's, but she thinks her daughter would approve.