Chapter 3 where we finally have Voldemort's pov. I really love writing him, though I have no idea why. We finally have a bit more of an explanation as to why he decided to marry. Nothing sentimental here. Only what he believes is logical.
The fact everything had gone according the plan was the only reason the Dark Lord was not irritated with everyone. It was all for the plan. It was a perfect and logical and, for this reason, he had not raised any words of objection, even though he suspected a number of his older Death Eaters had no idea why he had decided to run this course of action. They thought it was out of character.
They were partially right. He had never desired any companions. Sexually, if he wanted satisfaction, he chose a lover, took her to bed and then forgot about her. If he had a long term partner, it was only ever about the sex and only ever because they managed to please him in the long term. Currently, only Bella had ever fit that definition.
However, to actually marry someone, was a ridiculous concept. He would have had no desire to bond with someone for life merely so he could have a companionship or to have a family. Of course, he had never decided that. No, the only person he needed was himself. If he required others, he would summon them, order them to do what he desired, then send them away. No need for any companionship whatsoever.
So then why had he married? Simple, it was advantageous to do so. Not about companionship or, dare he even think it, love. No, never that.
For years, he had been attempting to secure France's allegiance: The nation was the first step into Europe and close enough to be a possible threat. They would need to be eliminated, either by forcing an alliance or conquering them. He would be happy to use force, but he was aware of the image that would create as well as the losses they would sustain. An alliance was preferable, thought that had never seemed possible, until the King's office.
It was true. His first instinct had been to turn it down straight away. He was happy to sacrifice others as a pawn or a tool, though he would never subject himself to being the tool. However, once that spike of fury had simmered, the possibilities developed. If he took the princess for himself, the King would always have to follow his lead. He could never risk harm coming to his daughter. Moreover, once the king died, the princess, and thus himself, would have complete control over the French throne.
It was strangely perfect.
Besides, it need not be an issue. He only needed to create the image in public and behave as normal in solitude. As well, unlike him, she would not live forever and, if she became too irksome, he could simply kill her, after making sure it would not seem deliberate, of course.
However, this did not mean in practice it was simple.
The actual ceremony was tolerable, though he loathed the vows (even after he had edited them), but afterwards, was where it became irksome. In the gap between the ceremony and reception, his new wife insisted on sitting, staring and following him around. He could tolerate that. What he could not was the look of expectation in her eyes as if she expected him to say something to her.
Of course, it had only fuelled his frustration and he had swiftly locked himself away in a room by himself until the reception. That was more tolerable. It was easier to simple carry through with the usual political notions and be seen to graciously accepting congratulations. He had even been rather amused and pleased when Antonin and a few other Death Eaters had quite honestly inquired whether his title would be Your Highness and Prince not Lord now. He had only gifted them a slight no and a smirk.
Now, he was sitting through less pleasant conversations. The King, his new father-in-law, had insisted on talking his ear off about one topic or another. He was only idly listening. However, being an obsessive and skilful multi tasker, it was not problem to seem like he was listening while making plans and scanning the room. It was slightly more difficult when the conversation was in French, though considering his intelligence, he could manage. It was all useless and dull. The only thing interesting was if he pointed out what happened to the last man who could be called his father.
He spotted Bella not too far away with Rodolphus and her sister. She seemed to be concentrating intently on her sister, so he supposed she was likely resisting the urge to look over as she had done several times in the last hour. He could not help but make sure he gazed at her every now and again. Not because of affection, but merely because he thought it wise to check to make sure she did not do anything stupid. He did not want to cause a scene or to raise any possibility that he had anything more than a strictly professional relationship with his Death Eater.
She did not look over and he was forced to turn his gaze back to the King. He did not notice that his new wife had followed his gaze, her eyebrows narrowing a little in uncertainty.
With a suppressed gasp, Bella sat bold upright, breathing heavily as if she had a nightmare. Pain erupted from her left forearm and, automatically, she shrugged it off and examined the mark that now burned black.
The Dark Mark stared back at her in all its glory. She had not expected it to burn, certainly not tonight. However, she would not stop to linger and think. Her Lord had summoned her so she would go. Nothing else needed to be discussed or pondered.
Sliding out of bed and careful to not wake the sleeping Rodolphus least she have to be subject to his questions or looks, she kicked the dress she had worn to the wedding and discarded before going to the wardrobe to find a pair of robes. Her eyes lingered over her old Death Eater gear, before pulling out a set of simple black robes and swiftly changed into them.
She did not linger after that. Walking swiftly and practically running, she did not stop until she had apparated out of Lestrange Manor and into the grounds of her Lord's house and knocked on the door. By the end, she was puffing slightly and a little pink in the face, though she was not at all worried, especially when she was led into the sitting room.
Her Lord was already there. He was silent. Resting his elbows on the unlit grate and staring down while his hands clenched and unclenched. It was a clear sign that he was irritated. She hoped it had nothing to do with her. She did not think she had done anything to disappoint him. By her reckoning she thought she had behaved, even at the wedding.
"My Lord," she said softly by way of greeting. She bowed and kept her head lowered, only raising her eyes to him. "You summoned me."
He did not wait to acknowledge her, but turned around straight away.
"Bella," he stated curtly. Again she detected the strain and obvious irritation in his voice and once again she was left to wonder what she had done wrong.
He was silent. It stretched on, but she was not sure she liked it. To her it felt like there was tension and she had no idea what she had done wrong.
Finally, when she could not take it any longer she spoke, "I- I am sorry Master. I apologise for any fault I have caused. I know not what it is but I regret anything that has irked you."
He continued his silence. His bloodied eyes scanned her and she squirmed under her gaze. She was waiting. She was not sure what for, but it would be something. The longer the silence went on she assumed it would be bad. By the end, she was starting to panic until his lips twitched upwards. She thought it might have been a smirk.
"I did not summon you here because you have done wrong Bella," he said simply though it meant everything to her. Her heart leaped and then returned to a steady movement.
"Then why?" she questioned though quickly she recovered and added, "Master, I am sorry. I should not question you."
Again he was silent for a few moments. Until his smirk only increased
"I thought that would be obvious. Very apparent why I would summon you and you alone in the middle of the night?"
Her eyes widened a little though the news was not unpleasant.
"Oh, I just assumed that since it was tonight..." she trailed off but was cut off by her Lord.
"Especially tonight," he said softly, his face completely emotionless. "Adele has little idea about what she should be doing. Silly girl had no chance of pleasing me. It could have been tolerable if I did not have to be...gentle."
His nose crinkled and the way he spoke made it quite clear how much the notion disgusted him.
"Of course, I could have forced her and behaved as I like, but it would be pointless and not advisable to irritate her when it is not needed. I am happy to sacrifice short term pleasure for long term gain."
Despite the fact she attempted to stop herself, she could not help but smile. She loved hearing him criticise her.
"So master," she murmured, stepping towards him so that there was now only a few inches between them, "you would then require me."
Tall herself, her Lord was taller. Even on her tippy toes she had problems trying to reach his ear.
"You need not worry, my Lord," she murmured boldly, entwining her finger in the collar of his robes. "I will please you."
She was just about to kiss him when her Lord's arm darted up from his side and gripped her shoulder almost painfully. She was pushed back a few steps and finally into the wall, her head clashing brutally into wall, though she did not complain, instead she was grinning.
His lips found hers in a brutal dominating kiss. She attempted to reach out and grasp his robes, but her hands were swiftly wrenched from him and instead pinned above her. So this was what he desired tonight. She did not complain. It was not in her nature to be submissive, even in the bedroom, though it was the Dark Lord and doing anything with her Lord filled her with joy. He was the only one who was worthy to dominate her.
It was not soft or kind. Nor was he particularly giving or generous, even if she found relief as she always did when she was with him. The fact that it was him always led to a certain amount of excitement that always gave her pleasure.
By the end and her Lord had stepped away, they were both breathing hard. She herself had to lean on the wall to support herself while her Lord adjusted and straightened his robes as if nothing had happened.
"You are excused," he said curly attempting to keep his voce at his usual level, but it was not completely successful.
She did not argue for a moment. Instead she merely buttoned up her robes and gathered her underwear from the floor. His eyes followed her the whole time as he left nodding slightly as she moved to the door.
"Goodbye, Master," she murmured in departure. He did not say anything though it did not matter.
She had assumed this night would bring only bad tidings, but she was wrong. Somehow it had brought only positives.
She seemed even more favoured than before.