Disclaimer: Everything from HP books belongs to JK Rowling
My Lord
She was an exquisite creature.
Beautiful ivory skin, long, shining black hair, and red lips that were always curled in a seductive pout.
She had beautiful white hands. Long, white fingers that gracefully danced to her tune in order to catch onlookers eyes.
Entrancing movements with her fingers beautifully curled around her wand. Deadly, beautiful movements.
It could kill, did kill, yet even during the most horrid of movements, the most vile, she never stopped being beautiful. Her fingers, those graceful weapons, would ensnare every audience she had even those poor souls wretched enough to be tortured by her beautiful instruments. How beautiful they looked curled around her wand.
Oh, how beautiful she is that girl with her porcelain looks and heart of stone. How beautiful she is.
It hurts! Oh how it hurts.
Why are the most horrid of beasts the most beautiful creatures our eyes can behold?
"To manipulate. To control. To lead." Her beauty made her the Princess of the Old Blood. His beauty made him their God.
Worship me, he cried. Worship me, love me, and kill for me and rewards will be yours for the taking.
None but her answered the Lord's call with such reverence. None but her felt their hearts screaming of need.
Oh, my Lord, my Lord! she cried, I love thee!
My Lord, she cried until she breathed her last breath. My Lord, forever echoing in the shadows of her memory. Forever forever!Until the end of time, right my Lord?
She was a wild creature.
Ardent in her love and blind in her hatred she was wild in all emotions and to all extremes.
Sirius, my cousin, my friend. Sirius, you vile beast, you traitor of the old ways. Traitor, vile traitor!
She was a wild creature fearsome to behold with those dark spells lodged in her head. Fearsome spells, some say, that she learned from the devil's own mouth. Fearsome spells, that she used to pick and choose who will live and who will die.
Fearsome through her love for him. To please you, my Lord.
But he tamed her, tamed the wild creature who was as evil as she was beautiful. He tamed her and forevermore she was a servant, nay a slave, of his love.
My Lord, oh my Lord, how I love thee!
Love her he did. Love the fanatical beliefs absorbed in her brain. Love what she symbolized, the Pure Blood Princess of the Old Ways. Love her beauty that could destroy, yet his need for her, his desire, was always overwhelmed by his need to USE her. His love overshadowed by the role each played. She the servant, he the Lord.
You are talented, my sweet Bella. You are to be my servant always. ALWAYS always!
How can I serve you my Lord? Tell me what you need and I am yours. Yours, my Lord.
Bound together they were, this Lord of old blood and his beautiful creature. Bound always by the blood in their veins and the love in her heart. Bound by his promises, empty, empty, and his desire never fulfilled.
She was seduced by him. Seduced by promises and by love and then she was destroyed, Destroyed! She now lives without her sparkle, her glow, and all because of her destructive love for him. My Lord.
Love kills, does it not? She thought when she was with her husband and realized he has no spark left either. Oh Rodulphus, I am sorry. So sorry, but my Lord, my Lord!
Love for him killed her. He was an exquisite beast. He was painfully beautiful and perfection to all who ever looked upon his person. He was what a wizard should be. Handsome in looks down to the last torture he inflicted and masterful until he breathed his last mortal breath. He didn't die, he couldn't. Only humans can die after all. He killed her with his beliefs and cruelty, killed his beauty, his slave in the name of power. It's the only love he could truly understand, love of power. With her he never fell short of being bemused.
Oh, how that realization killed her. He can't love! He can't love! But how I love thee, my Lord.
But she remembered those moments, those wretched moments that never lasted yet were yearned for. Those quick moments in which they lived and breathed in their love when he forgot, forgot what he was. He was evil incarnate, destined to be the end to all who come near. If only she were warned.
Hands run through her silky black hair. Kisses placed on the length of the silky strands as his hands touch her milky skin and she relishes in it, relishes in the love her Lord was able to bestow upon her. She relished in the closeness and lived, lived on those seldom kisses that never could be enough.
Yet, nothing is how it seems. For all the kisses they shared and the intimacy of a bind that transcends the oldness of the blood in each of their veins it was not how it seemed.
My Lord, I love thee. Tell me you love me, my Lord?
Never was a question so commonly asked that never had an answer beyond a patronizing stare. Never was a heart broken so repeatedly then the heart of this beautiful creature who forever looked into cold, snakelike eyes and wondered when they would ever love her. Love me, my Lord. Love me and take me for I am yours.
But he was evil. Evil beyond even her own talents for the darkness because she was human. She could laugh and she could cry. She could hate and she could love. She had passion, overwhelming passion that only died away after years of rotting away in a cell. But him, their evil Lord, their God. He was never human.
Never human and yet he used her humanity to control her. He manipulated her and destroyed her using those very feelings that made her just that much more of a person than him.
She could feel, would it have been better if she couldn't?
Maybe, because then she may not have loved the unlovable. Maybe, because then she could have thought before blindly binding herself to him and giving away her heart. Maybe, because then she would not have to feel guilty whenever she looked into her husbands, Rodulphus' eyes and asked, What if things turned out different? Maybe, because then she would not have needed to be an expert in living with the pain of a broken heart.
But she's a slave. Forevermore she is a slave to a love that has killed her within her soul. She is nothing now. No passion, merely a shadow of her former beauty, just a poor, wretched soul rotting away in prison for her evil deeds. A dead soul no person but her loving husband will mourn after life has fled her body.
Yet, she goes on loving. My Lord, oh my Lord, how I love thee.
End (Bellatrix and Voldemort)
Strange I know!