AN: Did I kill who? No one knows what REALLY happened, except for me and the Dark Prince. It is a conspiracy between us. I write what he does, and he does what he wants.
___________________________________________________________
Interlude: The Forging of the Mask
___________________________________________________________
Its creation was miraculous. Never before had any one thing been made for the sole purpose of ultimate devotion. Never before had one thing been so perfect upon completion. Never before had one thing been accepted without reservations. Never before had he created anything this great.
It had been his to give and his to make. It had not been asked for, only mentioned in passing.
Made of alabaster. Carved carefully with spells. Meant to form perfectly around his own face. The craftsmanship was superb. Nothing could be its equal. He had made it that way. His Lord had marked him above the rest, and he needed a symbol to prove to his Lord that he was worthy of his position.
The time had been months. Months to craft the the thin, delicate, yet sturdy structure that would be his mark. Months of slow and precise spells. Months of imbuing strength and protection charms and potions into a ready vessel. Spells within every portion of the inner structure. Potions swirling through every vein.
At the time it was giving, he had not know who would receive such perfection.
But before he could present his Lord and Master with such a prize, he needed a distinguishing feature. And that feature must prove to his Lord that the man who wore that mask would never dream of toppling his Lord.
This is where he put himself in consideration. He should not have. But it was the easiest thing to do. And most assuredly would gain him the position he knew he deserved.
Hematite was the best choice, with no contest as to a substitute.
Nothing else would hold the spells of such complexity and opposing strengths. One to give the power of the face to the master. One to connect the protection of the face to the wearer. And one to bind the spirit to the face.
But it should not have broke.
There was nothing that should have cut through the spells. Nothing that could have penetrated the resistance. For as long as he remained true to his Lord, then nothing would have broken his face.
But his face did break. He had watched it crack. He had been horrified when the green light had clouded the pristine white alabaster. He had not fully expected Lucius to follow through. And was not surprised when he did. But not even the Killing Curse should have fractured his face. But it had.
His Lord thought him gone. His Lord had taken his face and retreated. He had watch his Lord remove Lucius from the battlegrounds. He had watched it all from his position behind the mutt. Anger filled the void. A void he was not known to have. His Lord had taken his face and Lucius, but had left 'him.' He would teach Lucius the consequences soon enough.
That the blonde head of the Malfoy family would dare to assume he was above the Dark Prince was utterly implausible. True there would be consequences enough to go around, but the lion's share would be taken from Malfoy's skin.
For the moment, let Malfoy believe he has truly destroyed the Dark Prince. Let him stew in the knowledge that the Dark Lord will exact deadly revenge. For the moment he reveals himself as alive as them, all the tortures and punishments the Dark Lord could enact will appear to be trivial. Lucius Malfoy had definitely not learned his lesson from the rules of servitude. The man was still over stepping his bounds. Time would come soon enough for the lessons to be driven home.
Yet, the mask had fractured.
Had he been proven fallible yet again?
Had his bind to his Lord been fractured as well?
The traitorous part of his being whispered cruelly, "yes."
If that were so, then why had his Lord protected the mask? The Dark Lord had returned for the face as surely as the Prince would have returned for his Lord.
"But he left you for Dumbledore," the traitor whispered, taunting him.
No, he left Severus for Dumbledore. He knew the old fool would break at the sight of his pet spy dead and destroyed. Just the sight of his precious mutt collapsing dead when he could have easily prevented it.
"Yet if it wasn't for your games, the mask would never have broken."
Yet it was because of his games that he was still here.
He had survived his games and would continue to do so. And he would be his Lord's now and forever. There would be no upsetting the logical way of things. He was and forever will be his Lord's.
"Yet it broke."
A miscalculation. A miscalculation in any one of his spells or potions. And nothing could block Aveda Kedavra anyway. Therefore, the fracture had no bearing to his bond to his Lord.
"You say that now, but how will the Dark Lord view these present circumstances. How certain are you?"
Certain enough. He had not betrayed his Lord. Of that he was certain.
"How is it then that we are Dumbledore's?"
He was loyal only to his Lord. Nothing would break that.
"Betrayal and denial do not work will together. The mask has broke and you are separated from your face."
He will regain his face. He will reappear before his Lord and reclaim the dignity which rightfully belongs to him. And only him. He would not be denied his place beside his Lord.
"The Master, the Servant, and the Spirit are broken. There is no returning."
And he would be returned. He had proven that he was not fallible. He had proven that he was greater that that old fool and that his place was beside his Lord.
This is no returning. Why did that haunt him?
"There is nothing left for you there."
He would return and reclaim his face. He would stand beside his Lord in victory. He would not leave all in pieces and allow the nations to tremble. He was needed by his Lord and he will fulfill that need in anyway necessary.
"But you aren't necessary. Your face is broken. You have nothing left."
But it was Severus who had nothing left. Severus who was no longer necessary. The Dark Lord had left Severus for Dumbledore. He had seen that too. He had watched the venerable headmaster check the dead. Dumbledore had seen Severus's 'body' and passed it by while he was searching for the living. That was when he vanished the Doppleganger. The Headmaster had wanted the body, not the person.
"Did you see what you thought you saw?"
The old man grieved more for the animagus than he did for his lost spy. There was no longer a point to return to that old codger. With the sentimental Gryffindors grieving over the not yet cold body of Black, what purpose would it serve to reappear before the Dumbledore when the old coot already knew he had lost.
"Did the Headmaster really react as though he lost? The Dark Lord fled remember."
But he could always prove to Dumbledore that he had won that round. It was a very simple thing to do. He already was in the practice of sending vague notes, taunting the old codger. Perhaps he would send one reminding the Headmaster that he was always two-steps ahead. That should be enough to incite the marvelous Boy-Who-Lived into a sufficient rage. After all, Potter believed Snape and the Dark Prince were the same regardless. Adding to that myth would be amusing.
"Is it truly myth? I seem to recall a rather embarrassing episode involving Lucius Malfoy."
He had been given his position with the presentation of his face. The Dark Lord expected his Prince to carry out all plans accordingly.
The moon had been full the night he had presented his master with perfection. The mask as pale as the reflected moonlight rested on a shimmering cloth matching the glittering of the hematite bars. Odd that he remember such details on a night like this. The moon was not yet full, nor were the stars glancing off his masterpiece.
That piece of perfection was forever marred.
When his Lord had accepted the alabaster mask, he had been joyous. When his Lord had held the mask for him to accept in turn, he had been ecstatic. He had expected such, but even then the realization of the fact served to prove that he deserved this position. That he was deemed more important in his Lord's eyes. It was the vindication he needed.
Then he had foolishly allowed Severus to convince him that his Lord and Master was not he should. Then he had allowed Severus to retreat to that old fool of a headmaster. Severus now nothing more than a discarded tool.
"And discarded tools are not mourned."
Even if he had to prove his loyalty from the beginning, he would do so. He would not become his Lord's Fallen Angel.
"But we already are."
He felt the call of his Lord. Perhaps his Master knew he was still alive.
"And perhaps he is merely guessing. You really should have informed the Dark Lord as to your plan."
He was needed and he would go. He was necessary to his Lord's plans. Severus Snape was not.
"When it shatters, will you then accept?"
Let the traitorous part of him think as it would. He would never betray his Lord. He would not be the Fallen Angel.
______________________________________________________
Well, what do you think? Has my precious Dark Prince lost it completely? Do you know who the traitorous part is?
Reviewers:
Nameless: If you are concerned about Severus/Dark Prince after chapter 7 then you should be thinking about a St. Mungo's for them right now. But as you can see, Severus/Dark Prince is alive and as confused as you are.
Iyon: I understand you completely, and I think you are right about that last chapter. And I've never been the object of loathing before. But as they say any publicity is good publicity. As you can see Severus is not dead.
Anonymous: Who did I kill?
___________________________________________________________
Interlude: The Forging of the Mask
___________________________________________________________
Its creation was miraculous. Never before had any one thing been made for the sole purpose of ultimate devotion. Never before had one thing been so perfect upon completion. Never before had one thing been accepted without reservations. Never before had he created anything this great.
It had been his to give and his to make. It had not been asked for, only mentioned in passing.
Made of alabaster. Carved carefully with spells. Meant to form perfectly around his own face. The craftsmanship was superb. Nothing could be its equal. He had made it that way. His Lord had marked him above the rest, and he needed a symbol to prove to his Lord that he was worthy of his position.
The time had been months. Months to craft the the thin, delicate, yet sturdy structure that would be his mark. Months of slow and precise spells. Months of imbuing strength and protection charms and potions into a ready vessel. Spells within every portion of the inner structure. Potions swirling through every vein.
At the time it was giving, he had not know who would receive such perfection.
But before he could present his Lord and Master with such a prize, he needed a distinguishing feature. And that feature must prove to his Lord that the man who wore that mask would never dream of toppling his Lord.
This is where he put himself in consideration. He should not have. But it was the easiest thing to do. And most assuredly would gain him the position he knew he deserved.
Hematite was the best choice, with no contest as to a substitute.
Nothing else would hold the spells of such complexity and opposing strengths. One to give the power of the face to the master. One to connect the protection of the face to the wearer. And one to bind the spirit to the face.
But it should not have broke.
There was nothing that should have cut through the spells. Nothing that could have penetrated the resistance. For as long as he remained true to his Lord, then nothing would have broken his face.
But his face did break. He had watched it crack. He had been horrified when the green light had clouded the pristine white alabaster. He had not fully expected Lucius to follow through. And was not surprised when he did. But not even the Killing Curse should have fractured his face. But it had.
His Lord thought him gone. His Lord had taken his face and retreated. He had watch his Lord remove Lucius from the battlegrounds. He had watched it all from his position behind the mutt. Anger filled the void. A void he was not known to have. His Lord had taken his face and Lucius, but had left 'him.' He would teach Lucius the consequences soon enough.
That the blonde head of the Malfoy family would dare to assume he was above the Dark Prince was utterly implausible. True there would be consequences enough to go around, but the lion's share would be taken from Malfoy's skin.
For the moment, let Malfoy believe he has truly destroyed the Dark Prince. Let him stew in the knowledge that the Dark Lord will exact deadly revenge. For the moment he reveals himself as alive as them, all the tortures and punishments the Dark Lord could enact will appear to be trivial. Lucius Malfoy had definitely not learned his lesson from the rules of servitude. The man was still over stepping his bounds. Time would come soon enough for the lessons to be driven home.
Yet, the mask had fractured.
Had he been proven fallible yet again?
Had his bind to his Lord been fractured as well?
The traitorous part of his being whispered cruelly, "yes."
If that were so, then why had his Lord protected the mask? The Dark Lord had returned for the face as surely as the Prince would have returned for his Lord.
"But he left you for Dumbledore," the traitor whispered, taunting him.
No, he left Severus for Dumbledore. He knew the old fool would break at the sight of his pet spy dead and destroyed. Just the sight of his precious mutt collapsing dead when he could have easily prevented it.
"Yet if it wasn't for your games, the mask would never have broken."
Yet it was because of his games that he was still here.
He had survived his games and would continue to do so. And he would be his Lord's now and forever. There would be no upsetting the logical way of things. He was and forever will be his Lord's.
"Yet it broke."
A miscalculation. A miscalculation in any one of his spells or potions. And nothing could block Aveda Kedavra anyway. Therefore, the fracture had no bearing to his bond to his Lord.
"You say that now, but how will the Dark Lord view these present circumstances. How certain are you?"
Certain enough. He had not betrayed his Lord. Of that he was certain.
"How is it then that we are Dumbledore's?"
He was loyal only to his Lord. Nothing would break that.
"Betrayal and denial do not work will together. The mask has broke and you are separated from your face."
He will regain his face. He will reappear before his Lord and reclaim the dignity which rightfully belongs to him. And only him. He would not be denied his place beside his Lord.
"The Master, the Servant, and the Spirit are broken. There is no returning."
And he would be returned. He had proven that he was not fallible. He had proven that he was greater that that old fool and that his place was beside his Lord.
This is no returning. Why did that haunt him?
"There is nothing left for you there."
He would return and reclaim his face. He would stand beside his Lord in victory. He would not leave all in pieces and allow the nations to tremble. He was needed by his Lord and he will fulfill that need in anyway necessary.
"But you aren't necessary. Your face is broken. You have nothing left."
But it was Severus who had nothing left. Severus who was no longer necessary. The Dark Lord had left Severus for Dumbledore. He had seen that too. He had watched the venerable headmaster check the dead. Dumbledore had seen Severus's 'body' and passed it by while he was searching for the living. That was when he vanished the Doppleganger. The Headmaster had wanted the body, not the person.
"Did you see what you thought you saw?"
The old man grieved more for the animagus than he did for his lost spy. There was no longer a point to return to that old codger. With the sentimental Gryffindors grieving over the not yet cold body of Black, what purpose would it serve to reappear before the Dumbledore when the old coot already knew he had lost.
"Did the Headmaster really react as though he lost? The Dark Lord fled remember."
But he could always prove to Dumbledore that he had won that round. It was a very simple thing to do. He already was in the practice of sending vague notes, taunting the old codger. Perhaps he would send one reminding the Headmaster that he was always two-steps ahead. That should be enough to incite the marvelous Boy-Who-Lived into a sufficient rage. After all, Potter believed Snape and the Dark Prince were the same regardless. Adding to that myth would be amusing.
"Is it truly myth? I seem to recall a rather embarrassing episode involving Lucius Malfoy."
He had been given his position with the presentation of his face. The Dark Lord expected his Prince to carry out all plans accordingly.
The moon had been full the night he had presented his master with perfection. The mask as pale as the reflected moonlight rested on a shimmering cloth matching the glittering of the hematite bars. Odd that he remember such details on a night like this. The moon was not yet full, nor were the stars glancing off his masterpiece.
That piece of perfection was forever marred.
When his Lord had accepted the alabaster mask, he had been joyous. When his Lord had held the mask for him to accept in turn, he had been ecstatic. He had expected such, but even then the realization of the fact served to prove that he deserved this position. That he was deemed more important in his Lord's eyes. It was the vindication he needed.
Then he had foolishly allowed Severus to convince him that his Lord and Master was not he should. Then he had allowed Severus to retreat to that old fool of a headmaster. Severus now nothing more than a discarded tool.
"And discarded tools are not mourned."
Even if he had to prove his loyalty from the beginning, he would do so. He would not become his Lord's Fallen Angel.
"But we already are."
He felt the call of his Lord. Perhaps his Master knew he was still alive.
"And perhaps he is merely guessing. You really should have informed the Dark Lord as to your plan."
He was needed and he would go. He was necessary to his Lord's plans. Severus Snape was not.
"When it shatters, will you then accept?"
Let the traitorous part of him think as it would. He would never betray his Lord. He would not be the Fallen Angel.
______________________________________________________
Well, what do you think? Has my precious Dark Prince lost it completely? Do you know who the traitorous part is?
Reviewers:
Nameless: If you are concerned about Severus/Dark Prince after chapter 7 then you should be thinking about a St. Mungo's for them right now. But as you can see, Severus/Dark Prince is alive and as confused as you are.
Iyon: I understand you completely, and I think you are right about that last chapter. And I've never been the object of loathing before. But as they say any publicity is good publicity. As you can see Severus is not dead.
Anonymous: Who did I kill?