"I'm not your chambermaid. You're not my lord."
-Emilie Autumn, "Chambermaid"
She's ten years old.
Her mother pulls back her silky blonde hair, tying it into an elegant knot that Druella knows her awkward fingers will never master. "You'll make a fine bride some day, Druella," her mother says, allowing Druella to glimpse into the mirror at her reflection.
Druella stares in fascination at the beautiful girl who looks back at her through the glass. She is transformed from plain to something else, something so above a simple young human girl.
"You're beautiful," her mother tells her. "And beautiful girls have their place."
"What's their place, Mother?" she asks.
"At her husband's side, of course."
.
She's fourteen.
Cygnus rests his hand on her leg, a little to high up for her liking. But Druella doesn't say anything. One day, Cygnus will be her husband, and her place will be by his side to do his bidding.
It's tradition, after all, and Druella is not the type to break tradition.
.
She's seventeen.
Abraxas kisses her, and there is no demand behind his lips. He is soft and kind in a way that Cygnus never is.
"I shouldn't," she whispers, pulling away from him, though her body tells her to stay.
"Why not?"
"In a few months, I will be Druella Black," she says, forcing conviction into her words. "My place is with Cygnus, not with you."
His fingers graze her cheeks before wrapping in her long hair. "Why?"
Druella shivers. His touch does that to her. Cygnus' never does. Not for the first time, she finds herself wishing that she could belong to Abraxas. "Because duty to family comes first. Always."
.
She's twenty.
Bellatrix is sleeping at last, and Druella thinks she might finally have some peace at last.
Cygnus climbs into bed beside her, his lips finding her neck within seconds.
"Not tonight, darling," she murmurs, trying to pull away.
But he grabs her by the shoulders, forcing her closer against him. "You're my wife," he reminds her.
And she closes her eyes as he leads her to the mattress, trying to imagine that she's anywhere but in his arms.
.
She's twenty-three.
"Two children, and still beautiful," Abraxas says, catching her in a kiss.
Druella smiles against his lips, the first true smile she's felt in years. "Two children and a husband," she reminds him quietly, though she doesn't pull away.
.
She's twenty-seven.
"You're my wife."
It's his reminder, driven into her head on an almost daily basis. She is his wife. She has her place. She must obey.
But Druella is tired of all the games, of always playing by the rules because of what is expected of her. She's never been one to stray from sacred tradition, but she's so bored of pretending to be the perfect little pureblood wife.
Cygnus reaches for her, but she grabs her wand, jabbing it roughly into his chest. "I am your wife, but I am me above all else," she says, twisting the tip slightly.
"This is not proper behavior!"
"To hell with proper," she says. "I am married to you. I do not belong to you."
"You carry my name. You bore my children!"
A sweet smile tugs at her lips. "Narcissa isn't yours," she says softly, lowering her wand, and backing away. "Goodnight, lover."