Fire and Glory

by G.C.Zanetti

Mira is the Princess of the Wizarding World, descended from the first Vandeviere's whom wielded magic, and conquered their Kingdom in fire and glory. Adored for her role in the defeat of the Dark Lord, but under constant threat from her family's enemies, she is kept within the walls of the Palace, until she reaches her eleventh birthday and her education at Hogwarts begins.

2. Chapter I

ASCENSION

Halloween, 1981

The war room was thick with tension as the group discussed and argued over the new information they'd been given. There'd been word sent that all manner of dark creatures had been seen congregating in the Galloway forest. Giants, werewolves, and even vampires had been seen gathering within the dark trees, and with such creatures being prominent additions to Voldemort's army, it was likely that an enemy encampment was beginning to form.

Throughout the deliberations, the King had remained silent, listening intently to the points being made by each of his advisors as he absentmindedly brushed his fingers through the red fur of his Dracanis. The great beast sat beside his companion, his huge black wings folded neatly to his back as he listened to the debate with avid interest.

It appeared that the advisors were split in their decision; Half wanted to launch an attack right away, knowing that taking down an enemy camp would certainly be a huge victory, and could even end it all if Voldemort himself was there. The other side, however, believed that attacking would be too rash a decision, especially when they didn't know for certain what was within the trees. An impulsive decision could spell more problems than necessary.

Hadrian hummed to himself, carefully considering the opposing arguments, knowing too well that one wrong move could tip the balance, especially in wartime. His eyebrows drew together in a frown and he opened his mouth to speak before a sharp knock came at the door. Hadrian looked across and waved his hand to open the doors for the young messenger who stood in the doorway, a grim expression on his face.

A pit of dread sunk in Hadrian's stomach at his appearance as the boy bent the knee. "What is it?"

"Prince Oryn has sent word, Your Majesty! They've retaken Biddlam, but the Death Eaters were long gone...They-They've slaughtered the entire town. There isn't a single survivor."

Hadrian immediately looked away at the news, his shoulders slumping as he tried to fathom what he'd been told. They'd retaken control of the town, but their victory meant nothing when so many lives had been lost.

It was yet another step back in the endless war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Every time they made even the slightest advancement, it seemed as though Voldemort ensured another loss. It didn't matter how many battles they won, or how many towns they retook, there was always another mindless slaughter right around the corner.

As Hadrian sent the boy on his way with a nod of thanks, his advisors were already back to debating ways to retaliate, but the King couldn't find it within himself to pay attention to anything they were saying. He clutched the edge of the table in an iron grip, his usual vibrant gaze dull as it landed on the crimson stone, watching as the dragon of his house's sigil replaced the black mark of Voldemort over the town of Biddlam.

Hopeless.

That's all he felt; Completely and utterly hopeless.

For nearly eleven years, he'd been staring at that table, watching as his Kingdom was torn apart by that vicious monster and his followers. It had initially been much easier to fight the Death Eaters, as they'd been chomping at the bit to go head to head on the battlefield against the Royal troops. They'd won many a battle in the beginning, with the Death Eaters underestimating the might of the Vandeviere's army, but in the following years, Voldemort's tactics had become more ruthless and impulsive. They could never foresee his next attack, and Hadrian had lost count of the amount of people whom suffered because of it.

Regardless of their victories, Hadrian knew that they were losing, no matter how they looked at it. They had skilled, brave troops whom could easily match the Death Eaters in duels, and his son had lead a great many successful battles, but none of it mattered when his people were being slaughtered in droves. None of it mattered when he couldn't protect those he'd sworn to defend.

There appeared to be no end in sight to the war, and, as a result, morale had fallen disastrously low. Most of the Kingdom feared for their lives and their futures, terrified that it would be their livelihoods that would be ruined next, their home that would be destroyed, their families whom would fall at the hands of Death Eaters.

The kind soul in him felt his heart breaking at the thought of what was happening. He wanted to shield everyone from the horrors that was being inflicted upon them, wanted to end it all with a simple snap of his fingers. He wanted to reassure his people and give them his word that everything would be alright. That they would return to their lives soon enough, that they would be safe. He wanted to tell them a beautiful lie.

The King in him, on the other hand, bristled with an anger he hadn't experienced before. He wanted to be as ruthless as his enemies, and unleash his unbridled fury upon anyone who wished to bring his people harm.

A sudden feeling of cold on his hand knocked him from his thoughts. He glanced down and saw Silas nosing his hand, a concerned look in his fiery eyes. Hadrian smoothed down the fur of his companion before returning his gaze to the table.

"Your Grace?" Dumbledore spoke, eyeing the King curiously.

Hadrian hummed as he cast his eyes over those whom stood in his presence, each of them awaiting his word.

"As of now, we are certain of several Pureblood families serving Voldemort." he stated, expression hardening as he stood up straighter. "Tomorrow, we will launch attacks on every known House that serves in his ranks. The Blacks, the Malfoys, the Lestranges, the Carrows. I want them either dead or captured. All of them."

In an instant, his advisors either expressed their agreement, or their outrage at the decision, the mindless chatter having little influence on the King's word.

"Your Grace, may I speak freely?" Dumbledore's voice carried easily over the others, earning the attention of all those around the table. Hadrian gave him a single, short nod. "Wouldn't it be prudent to go about this another way? I fear we could incite more violent retaliation if we choose this path. We have remained principled throughout this conflict, and we are in danger of becoming everything we have tried so desperately to defeat."

Hadrian's eyes hardened, his jaw tightening at the irony of his words. "Don't lecture me about morals, Dumbledore. It matters not whether we attack tomorrow, or sit back and do nothing. That foul snake will attack us regardless. Our principles have done little to further our cause in eleven years, and I refuse to stand around any longer."

"And what of the children?" The Minister for Magic, Millicent Bagnold, spoke now, her usual steely expression set. "The Malfoys have a child, don't they? A son. No older than Princess Mirella, I believe."

Hadrian fought an eye roll at that. "The children are not to be harmed, Minister- I'm not heartless. Have them brought to safety. But I will not change my mind about the others; Dead or captured."

Hadrian thought for a moment. "Have Oryn's battalion prepare; Tomorrow morning I wish to see exactly what is in Galloway forest, and I will need his men behind me. We attack at dawn." Dumbledore began to speak once more, but Hadrian held up his hand, bringing a swift end to whatever his disagreement was. "That is my final word."

The group complied with his decisions, and after another hour of war preparations, they took their leave. The moment the door shut behind the last of them, Hadrian slumped in his chair, every shred of grace leaving him as he immediately brought his fingers up to his temples to try and work away the building tension in his head.

Beside him, Silas chuckled quietly and nudged his wet nose to his friend's tense arm. "We made it through another day," he muttered kindly, nudging his head under Hadrian's arm to rest against his thigh. "At least todays meeting was a little less painful."

Hadrian snorted at the recollection of their previous gathering, a small smile twitching at his lips at the thought of how close Millicent had been to blasting Barty out of the window. Unfortunately, his amusement was fleeting as a sharp pain shot through his head, earning a wince from him as he continued to massage his temples. "I don't know what we're going to do, Silas. With every passing day, I feel that we are losing this war. Our troops are stretched across Europe, we suffer massive losses every day. The people- they're so scared. And I can say nothing to alleviate their fear. I feel about as useful as a Muggle in a Giant colony."

Silas puffed out a laugh at his friend, rolling his eyes at his theatrics. "We're at war, my friend. I'd be worried if people weren't frightened. As for losing...We're far from losing. We've got a good footing at present, and we're reclaiming more and more territory. I'm sure tomorrow will lead us to victory, no matter what we find in those woods. You're a good King, and regardless of everything, you're still fighting for us, you're still doing everything you can to end this war. That counts for something."

Hadrian's shoulders slumped even further, Silas' words stewing in his mind. His friend, however, didn't give him the time to continue his brooding as he tugged harshly on the man's sleeve. "Come on, enough pouting." He choked in outrage at that. "We've got a long day tomorrow and we need to rest."

Unable to disagree, Hadrian playfully shoved the Dracanis as he stood from his chair, glad to finally leave the war room. The two of them strolled through the hallways towards the west wing of the palace, both eager to see their significant others and savour the time they had with them before the inevitable fight the following day.

The door to the parlour was in sight, but before they could reach it, the two were intercepted by David Thropkin, Hadrian's Private Secretary, who bowed his head politely.

"Your Majesty, Silas...May I have a word?" Hadrian swallowed the urge to sigh in frustration, but nodded for the man to continue. "Paulo and Alfonzo have completed another search, but they found no sign of him. I'm sorry."

For what felt like the hundredth time that day, Hadrian's heart dropped, a cry of anguish catching in his throat.

Seeing the state of his friend, Silas thanked David for informing them and sent him on his way. The man couldn't hide the pity in his eyes as he bowed his head, leaving as swiftly as he came. The moment David was out of sight, Silas nuzzled his snout against Hadrian's trembling hand as the man struggled to keep his composure.

It had been four agonising months since his Grandson had been taken. Without a fight or indiction that someone had managed to get into the palace, Torren was stolen from his crib in the dead of night. They'd expected the kidnapper to get in contact, wanting something in return for the child's safe return, whether it be money or power. However, there'd been nothing.

Torren was believed to be one of those who would defeat Voldemort. The prophecy hadn't been definitive about the exact person whom was to defeat him, but it was believed to be one of four children. Torren and his twin-sister, Mirella, were the most likely, but there was Harry, the son of his nephew and his wife, as well as Neville, the son of Frank and Alice Longbottom.

There'd been no sign or whisper of his whereabouts, and the longer he was gone, the more his family feared for his life. Their greatest fear was that Voldemort had gotten his hands on him, as it was known that the Dark Lord was adamant on destroying anyone who would pose a threat to him. Had it not been for Torren's Dracanis, Tala, they would've already thought him dead. So long as the Dracanis was still healthy and alive, there was a shred of hope for their missing Grandson.

"We will see his safe return, Hadrian. I know it." Silas whimpered as he spoke, feeling the pain his friend felt.

There was no reply from Hadrian, who could only pat Silas' head before they moved towards the parlour doors. The doors opened for them, and before them was a sight which settled both of their hearts.

Queen Avyanna sat, radiant, in her armchair beside the fire, the orange glow dancing across her dark skin. She was wrapped in a fluffy dressing gown which seemed to swallow her petite frame, while her greying hair was elegantly braided into a bun for the night, the few loose strands framing her face perfectly. She turned to gaze at him then, the corners of her eyes crinkling with delight at the sight of him. Thirty-one years of marriage, and she was still the most beautiful creature he'd ever set eyes on.

"We were beginning to wonder how much longer you would be." spoke Amara, Avyanna's Dracanis, and Silas' beloved. She laid at her companion's feet, Tala curled into her chest, her sandy coloured fur glittering like gold in the firelight. Silas nuzzled her as he dropped himself beside her while Hadrian stepped closer to his wife.

"I'm sorry. It took a little longer than expected." he spoke quietly, displaying none of the inner turmoil he was feeling. It was a skill he'd come to master after so many years in a position where any sign of weakness would be like holding a target to his back for his enemies, and handing them the blade to strike him with.

He glanced towards the other end of the room and smiled gently when he spotted his only daughter, Eira, sleeping contently in her own chair under the window, while her Dracanis, Nesrin, laid loyally below her, watching them all with her eerie gaze. The creature was so much like Eira in almost every way. The other Dracanis' were similar to their companions, but they also had their differences. It was believed that the creatures were the other half of the Vandevieres, that they fit together perfectly. That was the way with all the others, but with Eira and Nesrin, it was as though they shared a mind. The wolf had Eira's intelligence and her maturity, but it also shared her quiet despair, a fact that made Hadrian's heart ache for his daughter; She was so young, only twenty, and she had already suffered so much; Within a space of five months, she had lost her husband to the war and her baby to a miscarriage. It broke him to see her so despondent, and he desperately wanted to do anything to ease her pain, but Eira had always been one to suffer in silence, even as a girl. She was so much different to her Brothers in that way. Where Oryn was good-natured and headstrong, Eira was somber and reticent. Where Luka was affable and boisterous, Eira was independent and sophisticated. Hadrian wanted to do nothing more than just sweep her into his arms and protect her from the world, but he knew she wouldn't appreciate the gesture.

"She's been like that for a few hours. I didn't have the heart to wake her." Avyanna spoke softly from her chair, watching their daughter with sadness in her eyes.

"Good. That's good." Hadrian muttered. He was glad she was finally getting some sleep.

"Come." Avyanna beckoned him closer. "Is everything alright, My Love?"

Hadrian stood at her side now, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw who was sat within her arms. Avyanna was holding his only Granddaughter, Mirella, who babbled incoherently as she petted her Dracanis, Koda. When she noticed her Grandfather there, she let out a squeal of glee, continuing to babble at him, managing a loud, "Papa!"

"Everything's fine." he whispered, picking up the small girl from his wife's arms. She squealed again, reaching out to grab at his dark beard. She was little over a year old, and she was already such a beautiful child. Her black hair was so thick, full of perfectly defined coils which surrounding her chubby face like a mane. Her cheeks were full and dimpled, her little button nose dotted with dark freckles which Hadrian loved to brush his fingertip over to try and connect all the little dots. Of all of her features, her eyes were the most striking; Like every true Vandeviere, her eyes were a vibrant green, like a glistening emerald or the beautiful hue of a thick forest. They were so bright and full of life, teeming with glee every time he saw her. There was a little spark of mischief in them already, and Hadrian knew she was going to be quite a handful. "Everything's just fine."

Avyanna could only watch as Hadrian became completely engrossed in the young girl, his green eyes alight with both adoration and sorrow. Mira giggled uncontrollably, completely unaware of her Grandfather's torn emotions, patting at his face and beaming brightly. The girl had been attached to Hadrian almost immediately after her birth, always content in his arms, and reaching for him. He was the first person she would look for, and had spoken her first words to him. The two of them were kindred spirits, and he was terrified that he was about to lose her and the rest of his family.

"Hadrian?" whispered Avyanna, concerned as she watched her husband embrace Mira tightly, his expression strained as his eyes screwed shut. "Darling, what's wrong? Has something happened? Is it Oryn?"

She stood from the chair and placed a hand on his back, eyeing him closely to catch anything that could explain his strange behaviour. He let out a sigh and glanced at Avyanna, his expression pained. "Oryn has retaken Biddlam."

"Oh?" Her form stiffened. They had been plotting to take back the town for days, so she knew that they couldn't have been upset about that alone. There had to be something more-something worse.

"The Death Eaters had killed everyone before they got there. Every single one of them were slaughtered." Avyanna sucked in a breath of horror, her hand squeezing Hadrian's arm tightly. "Tomorrow we're launching attacks on the homes of known Death Eaters, and the potential encampment in Scotland. Oryn and I will be with them."

"Oh."

With her everyday responsibilities, Avyanna was just as skilled in hiding her emotions as Hadrian was. She contained everything until they were alone, and even then, she tried to maintain a strong countenance to dispel any concern it might bring her husband. Despite her facade, Hadrian could see the cracks forming. Her slim lips pulled down a little at the corners, her dark eyes glistening with the swell of unshed tears.

Hadrian sighed and embraced her gently, careful not to crush the oblivious toddler in his arms. "I cannot let them fight this battle alone. I must be there."

"I know," she whispered, dropping her head to his shoulder as her fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt. "I just- I can't lose you."

He stroked away the lone tear which slid down her cheek and pressed a long kiss to her forehead. "I don't know what will happen tomorrow, my love. But I give you my word; I will fight with everything I have to get myself and Oryn back to you and our family."

He tipped her chin up so that her beautiful eyes met his own, and gave her a look full of promise. More tears spilled down her cheeks, and before his own would fall, he pressed his lips to hers. It was true that anything could happen the following day, but he would do everything in his power to ensure that he would come back to her. That he was sure of.

Before either of them could speak again, Silas, Amara and Nesrin suddenly jumped up from their positions on the floor, vicious snarls ripping from their throats as they stood between the two monarchs and the door. Eira was startled awake by the sound and looked at her parents blearily, but the two of them were solely focused on the Dracanis'.

"What's wrong?" Hadrian questioned, confused at their sudden behaviour as he handed Mira over to Avyanna.

"Something's wrong...There's screaming." Amara spoke, her voice tense as both she and Silas listened closely to what was going on. Bells suddenly began tolling from the city below, and the screams both inside and outside the palace could be heard more distinctly. Eira stood from her place in the chair and glanced out the window, a gasp of horror leaving her as she set eyes on the Capital.

Flames burned high above the streets as buildings and homes were set alight. She could just about make out the silhouette of giants stomping their way through the narrow streets, their great weapons sweeping through anything which stood in their path. She could see the small figures of the people scattering in terror as dozens of figures apparated onto the streets, their black, billowing cloaks cementing her certainty of whom it was.

"No," she whimpered as she spotted the enormous, emerald skull which had appeared in the sky, a serpent slithering from its mouth like a tongue.

Avyanna appeared at her daughter's side, biting back a cry of anguish as she clutched Mira tightly to her as her heart dropped with realisation; "He's here for her."

"He won't get her, Anna." Hadrian approached them at the window, unable to do more than glance at the slaughter below as he made the two woman look at him, his expression serious. "Get to the dungeons, and flee. Get somewhere safe. I will find Carina and the boys."

Eira refused, and Avyanna was torn. She knew she had to protect Mira, as she would be the one thing Voldemort wanted most from attacking the palace, but she was reluctant to leave her husband alone to fight. "Go." he whispered, giving them a gentle nudge towards the other doors which would lead them away from the fighting.

Before any of them could even move a muscle, the doors burst open and the Dracanis' immediately put up shields, snarling at whomever was there to attack. It was Oryn's wife, Carina, who they recognised first, holding their wailing Grandson, Lorenzo, in her trembling arms. One of the guards and a butler hurried inside afterwards, carrying the two eldest Princes, Theron and Xander who clutched their Dracanis' in their arms. Avyanna let out a relieved cry at the sight of them and crouched as her Grandsons ran to her, tears flowing down their cheeks. Avyanna and Eira tended to the boys and Carina, Hadrian grabbed the guard's arm to keep him upright. He was already covered in his own blood, large gashes marring his face, arms and side.

"There's too many of them, Your Majesties." panted the guard, Grant. "He's already here."

Hadrian dropped his head, his fear confirmed. He glanced over to Avyanna who shook her head at him. "All of you need to leave. They will kill us all if you don't."

"Father, please!" Eira gripped onto him tightly and cried, her tears uncontrollable now.

He embraced his daughter tightly, quieting her sobs to whimpers before he gently removed her hands and tenderly kissed her brow. "You all need to leave."

She stared at him, heartbroken, as Simpson came to her side, Koda and Tala tucked in his arms, and gently led her away, closely followed by Carina and the Princes as they fled the room.

Avyanna approached Hadrian and placed a hand on his cheek, her strong exterior once more in place. "Come back to me."

He gave her a short nod before pressing a desperate kiss to her lips before stroking the hair away from Mira's face. "I will be with you soon. But you must go...Please."

She stared back at him before heading out of the doors with Amara, with only Silas and Grant staying back with Hadrian.

Once they were out of sight, Hadrian sucked in a short breath before turning to Grant who was still struggling with his injuries. He approached him and muttered a few spells to try and heal the wounds as best he could. "Are you sure you're alright to fight, man?"

Grant swallowed thickly, wincing as some of his wounds closed up before nodding as he glanced at his King. Hadrian gave his shoulder a gentle pat as he heard footsteps hurrying down the hallway.

"Good, because I can't do this without you."

Hadrian gripped his wand tightly in his hand as a bloodcurdling scream ripped through the air, and he prepared himself for the onslaught that was seconds away. He was unsure of how many would come, and whether Voldemort himself would be with them, but he knew that he had to keep them away from his family at all costs.

Silas ducked his head underneath Hadrian's free hand, his lip curling into a vicious snarl as he eyed the closed doors, his ears twitching with every sound he picked up. The moment Hadrian saw his wolf crouch, he knew the fight was upon them. Barely a moment passed before the doors burst open and several Death Eaters began firing curses at them. Silas immediately shielded them before Hadrian and Grant fought against them skilfully.

While the King, his Guard, and the Death Eaters shot curses back and forth, Silas deflected any shot at him before tearing through the group of cloaked wizards. Between the three of them, they fought them all off, but with difficulty. They were greater in number, and fought with such ferocity, that it took all their strength to defeat them.

One by one, they fell, until only a single Death Eaters remained. Grant had the upper hand as he duelled with her until she deflected one of Hadrian's curses, and yelled, "Expulso!", launching Grant into the wall. The guard laid motionless by the doors, but neither Hadrian nor Silas could come to his aid in that moment as Hadrian easily met the Death Eater's spells with his own, giving Silas enough time to slip out of her line of sight and launch at her, latching his vice-like jaws around her throat and silencing her screams with a sickening crack.

Hadrian puffed out a breath of relief as the brief battle came to an end, but he knew that they were not the only ones whom had stormed the palace. He glanced over to Silas who backed away from the Death Eater with a snarl before meeting his friends' eyes, his bloody snarl morphing into a wolfish grin.

Before Hadrian could even take a step towards him, a harsh, cold voice hissed, "Avada Kedavra!", and a flash of green surrounded Silas. He dropped to the ground with a harsh thud, the light dying in his eyes.

Hadrian stared in horror at the sight, and his soul screamed at the loss of his companion. He would've screamed too had he not caught sight of the monster that was responsible for all of the destruction and anarchy that had consumed his Kingdom. Voldemort stood before him, his skin pale and rough, his blood red eyes dark yet alight with a sick sort of glee as he took a short glance at the lifeless Dracanis, and a wide, sinister smile spread across his face when he spotted the King's fist clench with anger.

The mere sight of the creature made Hadrian sick to his stomach. He was more serpent than man anymore, his years of torture and murder had stripped away any humanity he might've retained. He had spent more than a decade terrorising the Wizarding world, hunting anyone he deemed impure, and butchering anyone whom had any connection to the Vandevieres.

Years of brutal battles and extensive planning had led to this very moment. He could end it all right then. He could restore his Kingdom to its former glory, he could finally reassure his people and give them the magnificent truth rather than the beautiful lie. He could protect his family, and ensure that they could live full, joyous lives without the ever-present threat of Voldemort looming over them. He had dreamed of that day for so long, and now he could provide it.

Hadrian shot the first curse, which the dark wizard easily deflected, thus beginning their duel. Every curse that they cast was deflected, and their spells became deadlier and deadlier. Voldemort was a formidable foe, there was no doubt about that. He was the product of thousands of years of dark magic, and he was not as easy to defeat as his followers had been. So, it took a great deal of focus and strength to push back against the gleaming green curse as it shot towards him. It would have killed him immediately had he been any ordinary Wizard, but he was not ordinary. He was Hadrian Vandeviere, King of the Wizarding World, and the descendent of the first Wielders. He had the blood of conquerors, and the original magic flowed through his veins.

Red hit green, and Voldemort stumbled from the sheer power that Hadrian fought back with. The King glowered at him, and Voldemort broke the connection before Hadrian could defeat him and blocked the spell before shooting another at him. Hadrian had expected it, and in the blink of an eye, had deflected it, and sliced his wand through the air, thus producing a cut along Voldemort's neck. The cut was enough to make him bleed, but not enough to kill him, unfortunately.

Red seeped across the pale of Voldemort's fingers as he pressed them to his neck, and Hadrian raised his wand to destroy him. All it would take was two words, but before the curse could even leave his lips, a flash of red left Voldemort's wand, and the moment it hit Hadrian, his veins felt as though they were filled with liquid fire. His body went rigid and his wand slipped from his fingers as he collapsed to his knees, gripping his head in a futile attempt to ease the pain. He trembled and convulsed, he prayed for an end to the pain, he considered the sweet release of death, but he never once screamed. It felt as though his every nerve had been exposed to a flame, as though his very skin was being torn away from his body. The pain was indescribable, and he knew that even he wasn't strong enough to overcome the curse. His fate was sealed, his death would come soon, but he had to ensure that Avyanna and his family escaped unscathed. He had to give them a fighting chance to get out before Voldemort would continue his hunt for them.

Voldemort stared down at him furiously, his eyes flashing at Hadrian's refusal to scream. He tried with all his might to extract even the smallest of cries from him, but the King only glared back at him, silent as the grave.

Voldemort suddenly gripped Hadrian by the neck. "Bow to me, Your Majesty," he hissed, his voice colder than ice. The creature towered over Hadrian's hunched form, his black cloak billowing and contorting around his feet like smoke. When Hadrian did nothing more than curl his lip into a sneer and glare up at him defiantly, Voldemort tightened his grip on his neck. "Bow."

Every fibre of his being screamed for him to relent, but even when death stared him in the eye, he would not bow. Not ever. Not to him. Hadrian clenched his teeth together so tightly that they felt as though they would shatter in his mouth, and managed a quiet, bitter, "Never."

Voldemort hissed with anger and threw him to the ground. Hadrian cared little, even when the pain eased. He looked away from Voldemort, and focused on Silas, who laid only a few feet away from him. He reached for him, but his fingers could only brush against the soft fur of his paw. His time was up, sooner than he'd ever imagined, but in the very way he'd always thought. Silas was by his side in death, as he had been through life; From childhood, to adulthood; From Prince, to King. In life, and in death, they would remain one. Two halves of a whole.

Finally, Hadrian allowed himself to smile. "Good night, my friend." A flash of green surrounded Hadrian's body, and he fell limp against the floor.

---

The dungeons were so very dark.

In all her years as Queen, Avyanna had made a conscious decision to never venture into the dungeons of the palace. Hadrian had taken her once whilst they were courting, and it had frightened her more than she cared to admit. The dark played tricks with her mind, made her see things that weren't there. She often could've sworn she'd seen a flash of white, or perhaps it was blue? Hadrian had taken great amusement in her terror, but soon swept her out like the gallant Prince he'd been. She'd whacked him and made him promise to never take her down there again, and he'd gladly obliged. They'd been children then, but nearly forty years had passed, and she hadn't stepped foot back into the dungeons, until now.

She held her wand in her trembling hand, the tip illuminated with a small ball of light, but it was not enough to light their path. The darkness consumed the light, as it did everything. Shadows would momentarily dance across the stone walls before disappearing into the black ocean that surrounded them.

She could hear the rapid footfalls of Simpson, Eira and Carina just ahead, and she felt marginally better to have Amara by her side, but she found that it was no longer the shadows that frightened her, it was the thought of what hunted them within them. They could hear the battle raging on above them, even in the bowels of the palace. The screams sent a tremor through her, and she gripped Mira for dear life, knowing that if they didn't find the way out soon, that the sounds above them would be the same fate they would face.

There was a quiet rumble from above them before an ear-splitting explosion echoed through the halls and cells of the dungeons as the entrance was blown open. The boys screamed in terror and a pit of dread sunk in Avyanna's stomach as she yelled desperately for them to hurry, knowing they had little time.

She ran with them, stumbling through the darkness, only able to follow the shouts of Simpson and her family. She ran as fast as she could, her eyes desperately searching for some indication of where they were or how close they were to an escape.

As she always knew it did, the darkness took everything, and as she stumbled over a fallen stone, she used her wand arm to break her fall, and watched, broken, as her wand rolled away from her, the darkness consuming the light that had come from it.

She fought a cry of frustration and fear. She couldn't see a thing now. She couldn't see her wand, or her hand in front of her face, or the chance of survival. All hope was lost, for herself at least. And the poor child.

At the realisation, Avyanna held Mira tightly to her chest, whispering quiet apologises to the little girl as she pointlessly stroked her mass of curls and kissed her forehead. She had doomed the girl, she'd ensured that her life would end before it had even begun.

"Anna? We must go." Amara's voice came from beside her, and Avyanna reached out, and felt the wolf press her head against her trembling fingers.

"I- I can't see. I won't get far, Amara." she whispered, gently rocking the whimpering child in her arms. "Go with them. Make sure they get out safely. Do this final thing for me, I beg you."

She couldn't see her, but she could feel the wolf's gaze piercing into her own. Amara may not have been with her since birth like the other Vandeviere's, but she knew the creature like the back of her hand. She would refuse to go, of course she would, but she would go anyway. She would make sure her friend's family survived.

"Anna, no..."

Avyanna smiled sadly and stroked the wolf's fur once more. Before she could convince her, they heard the shattering of cells as their fate crept closer, destroying everything that stood in its wake.

"Go! Keep them safe! Please!"

The Dracanis whined before pressing her head to Avyanna's, giving her tears a swift lick before hurrying after the others.

Avyanna let out a shaky breath before she felt along the walls, looking for anything to protect them or hide them. There was a slim chance of it working, but she had to try, for Mira's sake.

She stumbled through the hallway, running her fingers against the seeping stones before she felt the ice cold metal bars which had once held the enemies of the Vandevieres inside, now she hoped that they would keep them out. She carefully manoeuvred her way inside and fumbled for the gate before pushing it closed, cringing at the way the metal screeched together.

She shuffled further into the small room and felt her surroundings before she felt a small, stone bench. That's all she had; Useless iron bars, and a stone bench.

The Queen sobbed then. She cradled Mira in her arms, and sobbed as quietly as possible, praying that Oryn would find it within him to one day forgive her for sentencing his daughter to death. Neither of them would survive it, she could no longer pretend that they had a chance.

Mira whimpered softly in her Grandmother's arms, frightened of the dark that surrounded them, even at her young age. She mumbled quietly before a bright light illuminated their cell and their surroundings, and Mira's big eyes landed on the cloaked figure that stepped out from the shadows. Her cries became frantic, and Avyanna turned quickly, already knowing who, or rather what, had had caused her Granddaughter's sudden bout of fear.

"Your Majesty." Voldemort purred, bowing but never taking his eyes off the Queen who was frozen in place, her grip tightening around Mira as she attempted to shield her from his fiery gaze. Her own was settled on Voldemort, showing nothing but disgust for the creature. "Hand over the child, and I shall let you live."

"You wont have her!" she spat, placing Mira on the stone bench behind her, completely blocking her from his view.

"Ah, such bravery...The Potters had it too." Avyanna choked back a cry, knowing full well what the fate of her nephew had been. They had been so young, James and Lily, and their little baby Harry, too. "It was touching, but I can't say it did them any good in the end."

Avyanna glowered at him at once, a defiant flame flickering in her eyes. "You will pay for your crimes at the mercy of the Crown!"

His lips twitched at that as he stepped closer to the cell bars. "The Crown is useless without its King, no?" He took great pleasure in watching the Queen's expression as reality sunk in. Stubborn as she was, she still refused to show him any fear, but even she couldn't prevent the pained sob that left her lips.

Voldemort flicked his wrist, and the cell burst open, launching the solid metal against the crumbling wall. Both the Queen and the Princess screamed at the sound, and as Voldemort stepped inside the cell, Avyanna covered Mira completely in a final attempt to protect her.

"Now, I ask you once more...Give me the child."

"Over my dead body." she hissed, not even dignifying him with her gaze. In the corner of her eye, she spotted him drawing his wand, and she quickly turned away from him and gathered Mira into her arms, pressing her tightly against her chest. She gazed down at her Granddaughter, and whispered softly to her. Her last moments would be peaceful, she owed her that at least. "You will be safe, I promise. I will protect you, I swear it. You will be safe, my beautiful Princess."

"As you wish, Your Grace." Voldemort didn't wait a moment before muttering the killing curse, and the same light that had taken her husband's life, took Avyanna's. She slumped to the ground, staring blanking into the dark, leaving the Princess wailing in her limp arms.

Voldemort chuckled at the sight of the wailing babe. Her fat tears streaming down her cheeks as she wiggled uncomfortably under the dead weight of her Grandmother, screaming at the top of her lungs. For who? He wasn't sure. Perhaps it was the naive Queen, or the pitiful King, or even her Father, the dutiful Prince who he would ensure would only be King for less than a day.

He would take great pleasure in killing every last Vandeviere, but for the moment, he would take the most pleasure in silence the new King's darling daughter. Before he could mutter the words, the Queen's Dracanis leapt at him, biting down hard on his shoulder before launching him out of the cell. The Dracanis' stood protectively in front of her dead companion, snapping her jaws viciously. The wizard noted the faint white hue which surrounded the child and deduced that she had been shielded.

He smirked nastily as he pulled himself up, ignoring the burning pain in his shoulder, and eyed the creature as it bristled with fury before him. It could protect the girl all it wished, but he had little time to dawdle.

With a sharp flick of his wrist, Amara yet out a nauseating yelp as her throat was sliced. She whined from the pain, gasping uselessly as she stumbled before collapsing beside Avyanna, her blood seeping around her body.

Voldemort grinned widely. So much effort had been put into protecting the child, that they'd hardly thought about protecting themselves. He roughly kicked the Dracanis' paw away from him before lifting his wand to the screeching Princess.

"Avada Kedavra!" The green light enveloped her tiny body before it rebounded and pierced him through the heart.

He let out a pained screech as he gripped the pained area, searching frantically for any blood, but none came. Instead, ice burned its way through his veins, freezing and igniting his body all at once, causing him to fall to his knees. The sensation ate away at him from the inside. He contorted harshly on the ground, his mouth opening to scream, but nothing but a blinding green light left him. The curse swelled within him, and his skin began to blacken as his body decayed. The curse tore away his skin, piece by piece, stripping him of everything he was, or had been until he was nothing more than ash. The light flashed, illuminating the black chasm, before it dimmed, and dimmed, and dimmed until there was nothing but a brief glimmer that shone on the neck of the Princess.

---

The moment Prince Oryn stepped through the doors of the palace, he could barely believe his eyes. What had once been his home, a magnificent, colossal fortress, was now a smouldering, crumbling pile of rubble. From the narrow streets in the city, to the broken doors of the palace, bodies of Death Eaters, civilians, and soldiers alike laid lifeless in the aftermath of battle.

The halls of the palace were no different as Oryn saw another unblinking face every ten paces, their bodies partially covered in debris which had come tumbling from the ornate ceiling in the midst of the fighting. Healers and soldiers were already there, with the former searching for anyone who might've survived the clash, while the latter begun the heinous task of tending to the dead.

Oryn looked away from them all, and instead followed his Dracanis, Aeris, who hurried down the hall, a panicked whine leaving her throat as she approached the parlour. Oryn had quickly learnt that the sound never meant anything good; He'd heard the sound a thousand times throughout his life, when he'd decide to do something reckless, and when he'd wound up with an injury due to his recklessness, and especially since they'd taken a stand in the front lines of the war. He'd heard the sound more often than not, and he'd thought he could handle whatever he might see because of it, but nothing could truly prepare him for the sight that met him when he stepped into the room.

Amongst the debris of the broken doors, his Father laid slumped and motionless in the middle of the room, his dull, green eyes staring at the body of Silas, his fingers barely grazing the paw of his fallen friend. At the sight of her Father, Aeris tentatively padded to him and nudged him gently with her snout, letting out a low, forlorn howl when he remained still.

When Oryn came to kneel beside Hadrian, the lump in his throat and the weight in his heart became too much to bear, and he cried as he gripped his Father's cold hand. He wept, and he wept, and he wept, unable to believe that his Father was truly gone. He wanted to pretend otherwise, that it was all some elaborate hoax, a bad joke, but he could not deny the truth that was right in front of him. His Father was dead, and cold, and completely gone. Not even magic could bring him back now.

He carefully shifted his Father onto his back, presenting him in a more dignified position. He crossed his hands across his stomach, and closed his eyes, so that all whom would gaze upon him now, would see him as refined as he had always been.

Oryn bowed his head and focused his eyes on the Aeris' grey fur as she sat beside him, and he let his tears fall freely. He could not bear to look at his Father anymore, the guilt and shame filling his heart, as he knew this was his fault. Perhaps if he'd been quicker, if he'd arrived on Vanderlia sooner, he might've been able to prevent his death. The moment he'd received word of the attack, he'd raised his own battalion, and any others he could contact, and arrived in the city within the hour, but it had not been enough. Hundreds had died, hundreds had lost everything they held dear, and his Father was dead.

He had failed.

"Your Highness!" The sudden shout came from the other side of the room, and when he glanced up, he caught sight of one of the many guards. His expression was grim, and Oryn feared that he would sob once more as his heart filled with dread. "We've found the Queen...And the Princess."

No, he thought, pleading with any God that would listen. Please no.

Oryn gave his Father's hand a gentle squeeze before standing. "Take me to them."

The Guard nodded shortly before leading the way, with Oryn and Aeris close behind. With every step he took, the pit in his stomach sank further, the tightness in his throat returning. He could not bear the sight of his Father, and he knew he could not stand the sight of his Mother, but his daughter...His sweet, dear Mirella. He knew the sight of her would break him. He knew it would, and yet he could not will his feet to stop.

The moment they stepped through the blown out entrance to the dungeons, the guard stepped to the side and bowed his head respectfully. "They're down there, Your Highness. I'm so sorry."

Oryn barely acknowledged his words as he stepped into the dungeons. His whole life, he'd only known them to be utterly dark, with the only light coming through tiny windows of the cells, or the cracks in the stones, but now they were alight with the glow from the flaming torches which donned the walls. He could now see each and every dilapidated cell which had terrified him as a child, but he no longer feared whatever spirits may haunt the old, decrepit hallways.

He feared how he might find his Mother and daughter, and judging by the look on the guard's face, he knew what he was about to see, deep down he knew. No matter how much he hoped and prayed he was wrong. Part of him thought he may turn the corner and find his Mother just sitting in a cell with Mira laughing gleefully on her lap. He could almost hear the squeal of joy from his daughter, and see the loving smile on his Mother's face.

That thought was swiftly stripped away from him the moment he caught a glimpse of his Mother's wolf. He stepped a little closer, and near collapsed when he saw them laid there. Amara had protected his Mother to the bitter end, having died wrapped around her, her head tucked under Avyanna's black locks which now glistened with Amara's blood. His Mother looked as though she was sleeping, ethereally beautiful in her white robe, eerily similar to the fallen angels that they sung songs about, and painted across grand canvasses.

Oryn moved to his Mother's side, stumbling to his knees as he gently lifted her to press his forehead to hers, but as he did so, he spotted the tiny bundle tucked within her arms. Bile burned at the back of his throat as he carefully picked up his daughter, tucking her into his chest with his trembling hands. He found the courage to finally look at her, and when he did, he let out a yell of anguish.

His little girl...His Mira was so tiny in his arms. She'd been a small child from birth, so fragile and sickly compared to her twin, but she'd fought hard through every illness, and had quite the pair of lungs on her. The first time he'd heard her cry, it had broken his heart, and it was a sound he hated to hear when she was such a joyful girl.

He would've given anything in the world to hear that cry now.

But she laid silent in his arms, as small as ever, covered in little cuts and grazes from whatever conflict had occurred, and on her neck, sat a fresh, bleeding wound which was shaped like a dozen bolts of lightning. He knew a mark like that could have only come from being touched by a dark curse, and he only hoped that her death had been quick, he couldn't imagine the thought of her suffering.

His tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he stroked her wild hair out of her face and placed a tender kiss to her forehead. Aeris whimpered as she pressed her cold nose to his cheek as he wailed, shakily stroking his thumb across Mira's plump cheek. She was an innocent, a child, and she had done nothing to deserve her fate, yet she had been taken from him before she could live her life. Life was cruel, he'd been taught as much from a young age, but to take his only daughter, to force him to bury his own child, it was beyond cruel; It was sadistic.

Aeris spoke quietly to him, but he blocked out her words as he rocked Mira in his arms. He'd sworn an oath to always protect her, he'd given her his word, and he'd failed. He'd failed and she was gone. Oh Gods, she was gone. Another wave of tears fell before a tiny whimper came from his arms. It was so quiet, that had the dungeons not been so quiet, he would've missed it completely. He glanced down at Mira, his eyes wide and crazed as he searched for any indication that it could've been her. The rational part of his brain told him it was just his imagination, it was just a trick of the mind, he wanted her to live so much that he was just imagining it.

Had another moment of silence passed, he would've believed that was the truth, but the moment passed, and his daughter shifted in his arms, letting out the ear-piercing cry he'd wished for.

"How?" Aeris whispered, peering at his daughter with as much awe as he was, before she stiffened and looked to the Prince seriously. "We need to get her to the hospital."

Oryn didn't need to be told twice, as he leapt up from the ground and all but sprinted through the dungeons back towards the entrance. When the guard spotted him, he began to speak before spotting the wailing Princess in Oryn's arms, and gaped.

Oryn said nothing to him, and only held Mira closer to him and placed his hand on Aeris' back before apparating. The stomach-twisting sensation lasted barely a moment before he found himself in the blinding-white entrance hall of St Mungo's where dozens of Healers were bustling through the hallways, dealing with the survivors from the attack. When they spotted the huge Dracanis stood beside him, most came to a sudden halt, and when they recognised him, several rushed up to him.

"My daughter...Please- Please help her." It was all he could manage, and when their eyes fell on Mira, they immediately understood. A Healer took charge and led him through hallways and into a lift before they reached another blinding hallway.

The Healer turned to him and reached for Mira, and out of instinct, he drew back from her, holding Mira protectively to his chest. He'd just got her back, he was not in any rush to let her go anytime soon. It was irrational, ridiculous, but he couldn't help it.

"Your Highness, we need to take her so we can heal her." The Healer was kind, softly-spoken as she looked at him seriously. He faltered a little before Aeris nudged him, and he carefully let the Healer take her. He never took his eyes off his crying daughter as she disappeared into a room with the healer, her frantic screeches still ringing in his ears as he stumbled back against the wall. He slid down it, and sat on the cool marble floor before letting his head fall into his hands.

"She will be okay, Oryn...She is strong." Aeris laid by his side and rested her head in his lap. He nodded, gently stroking behind her ear as he kept his eyes on the door that his daughter had disappeared into. She was alive. He'd believed her to be dead, and part of him wondered whether it was all a dream, but the endless cries that came from behind the door proved otherwise.

He hadn't a clue of how she survived, as he was sure she'd faced Voldemort himself, and he knew few whom had faced him lived to tell the tale, not even his parents had survived him. The thought of his parents brought another wave of guilt and grief as he pictured how he'd found them. Both of them had fallen at Voldemort's hand, he was sure of it, his Father trying to protect his people, and his Mother trying to protect Mira.

They'd once jested that they'd both live hundreds of years, too stubborn to die. He'd always thought his Father couldn't be killed; He was one of the most powerful Wizards in the world, and a fearsome opponent. In his 25 years, he'd seen hundreds duel him, and none came out victorious. Until now. And his Mother, one of the most fearsome and tenacious women he'd ever known, laid lifeless in a cold, crumbling cell in the dungeons. It was no place for his Mother, no place for a Queen, but that monster had driven her there. Had cornered her and slaughtered her, and attempted to do the same to his daughter.

It ignited an anger in him that had his fingers itching to brandish his wand and hunt the bastard down for even coming close to his family, most of whom were still missing. None of his guards had reported finding the rest of his family, and there hadn't even been a whisper of where they might be. He knew Luka was safe within Hogwarts, but the others...he had no clue. His Sister, his Wife, his Sons... He knew nothing of their whereabouts or wellbeing. He only wished they were somewhere safe.

It felt like hours that he sat on the hospital floor, Aeris' head laid heavily in his lap as he stroked her fur for the little comfort it brought him. He cared little for how long he'd been there, for who would be looking for him, for the weight of the responsibility that now sat on his shoulders. He didn't care about anything outside of the hospital room where his little girl was being cared for, and he wouldn't care about anything else until she was once again laid in his arms, happy and healthy.

At some point, Alfonzo had discovered him in the hallway. He was his Brother in all but name, a friend since childhood, and a welcome comfort as he sat beside him and squeezed his shoulder. He spoke of finding the rest of his family, safe and unharmed, including Mira and Torren's Dracanis'. He spoke of the apparent death of Voldemort, whose wand had been found with his Mother. If it was true, it meant the end of an eleven year war, but he couldn't even find it within him to be relieved. The door was still closed, and his daughter had fallen silent long before Alfonzo had come to his side.

He didn't move, didn't speak, didn't feel until the door finally opened. The Healer that had taken Mira from him stepped out, a small smile on her face as she spoke the words he'd prayed to hear.

"She will live, Your Highness."