A/N: This series is based around stories from Ovid's 'Metamorphoses'. This one is an attempt at 'Niobe'. The shortened version of the original story goes something like this: Niobe and her husband had fourteen children, and in a moment of arrogance, Niobe bragged about her seven sons and seven daughters at a ceremony in honour of Leto. She mocked Leto, who only had two children, Apollo, god of prophecy and music, and Artemis, virgin goddess of the wild. Leto did not take the insult lightly, and in retaliation, sent Apollo and Artemis to earth to slaughter all of Niobe's children, which they did.
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Fractured fire.
That is what Narcissa sees. The possibility of something beautiful broken into myriad slivers. Their pure blood scattered haphazardly, glittering on her sons hands.
She likes it when he kills for her. Dutiful. Like a good son should be. Graceful hands tearing, ripping, pulling at freckled flesh, clawing at red hair. Her avenging deity. Raining fire and destruction on sinners, the inferior who imagine themselves superior. Almost biblical. Narcissa thinks her son is Christ.
Narcissa laughs and the sound reflects off Draco's sharp, brittle smile. Molly Weasley's blank, childless gaze does not waver.
Fractured fire.
That is what Narcissa loves.
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Fractured fire.
That is what Narcissa sees. The possibility of something beautiful broken into myriad slivers. Their pure blood scattered haphazardly, glittering on her sons hands.
She likes it when he kills for her. Dutiful. Like a good son should be. Graceful hands tearing, ripping, pulling at freckled flesh, clawing at red hair. Her avenging deity. Raining fire and destruction on sinners, the inferior who imagine themselves superior. Almost biblical. Narcissa thinks her son is Christ.
Narcissa laughs and the sound reflects off Draco's sharp, brittle smile. Molly Weasley's blank, childless gaze does not waver.
Fractured fire.
That is what Narcissa loves.