The only reason that she never complained about her arranged marriage with Rodolphus Lestrange was - one, because it was expected of her and two, because her Lord requested that the union commence.
How could she complain when a wizard of such greatness requested it of her? She was his to order.
A man who possessed his power, trying to rid their world of mudbloods was practically royalty in her book. She'd do anything for him. Even if it meant being tortured on someone's expensive carpets until she either threw up, wet herself or both. She'd marry a man with anger issues and a brain the size of a peanut.
She was devoted to Lord Voldemort - the Dark Lord - and the cause with her every being. She'd heard what they'd been saying about her, how could she not?
"Bloody crazy, she is."
"Such a demented bint."
"I do not envy you, Rodolphus. Stark mad that one."
She wouldn't deny their claims because she probably was. She'd look at her blood traitor of a cousin, see his disgusting happiness and wonder why, with both of them experiencing the same treatment, she was the one like she was. But then she remembered that she was the one who knew what was wrong and right with the world and was working on making it better whilst he was only an obstacle in her way.
She'd also go out and kill a few muggles - another bit of filth in their world - and she'd wonder why she even cared in the first place.
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