A Few Weeks Later, late at night. Possibly.

Helena's empty eyes glanced dauntlessly at the opposite brick wall to the one that she was chained to.

She didn't want to wish this on anyone. Not even the girlfriend that abandoned her. And to think she was going to ask her to marry her...

The chains had replaced the spiked wire that used to cut through all the layers of her skin. This was because the chains made it less likely that she would go into the bliss of unconsciousness. Helena ultimately decided that she didn't mind, as long as her hands weren't torn off. But, let's be honest. What use was a witch with no hands?

Her mind was completely blank and thoughtless. The only thing that occupied her was the tiny cracks that plagued the wall. She refused to think about how close the walls were; how cramped and lonesome it was. This type of mental torture prompted Voldemort to take advantage, and so every day he asked her to join him. The answer was always no, but she soon regretted it as he proceeded to laugh and torture her for a little longer than the day before. Although she didn't have any perception of time, she knew by some twisted instinct that it was always going to increase in the hours she endured the pain.

The wall behind her body was like a big block of ice that was made from liquid nitrogen. It was stealing all the warmth and heat from her body and it looked like it would never return - even if she was standing at the entrance of Hell.

As if on time, Voldemort entered the cell and Helena inwardly groan. This made him smile.

"Helena," he crooned softly.

Helena attempted to shuffle away, but her body protested in pain for her to not move.

"Sh... Come here, Helena, I won't hurt you."

She reluctantly agreed, and she went closer to where Voldemort was standing, though her chains became more limited. He crouched down next to her and began to patronise her.

"Is the cold bothering you? This particular cell hasn't actually seen daylight."

"Yeah, I bet it hasn't," she mumbled bitterly.

"You can stop this coldness. That empty, isolated feeling. After all, your one true love left you like this. What's the chance that she's going to come back? So, I have a solution. You can forget about her and you can stop your pain and misery – although you know the ultimate price. If you wish to join me, then I will stop this. I may even wipe your memory to prevent you from thinking about it. Or, you can be here forever… Being tortured, being cold, being in absolute isolation - completely forgotten. It's your last chance, Helena. My last offer. Take it into consideration, or perhaps you may regret your decision. We can fight together."

Voldemort waited patiently.

"My Lord," she said finally, her voice little more than a whisper.

Helena took a deep breath, and started again with a much louder voice.

"My Lord, as much as I'd hate to fight with you, I… I don't want to be like this for the rest of my life. I admit that I have wished for nothing more but to be relieved of this place, even if it meant to be one of your followers. And your offer, is more than I could've wished for. So yes my Lord, I will accept your offer," Helena finished, not really understanding why she wanted to say it - but she did.

Voldemort smirked and He hadn't moved from the position of looking down at her.

"We shall begin in the morning. In the meantime, get some sleep. It's hardly turned one hour past midnight, so do try. Good night."

And he got up and locked the door behind him without another word.

X

In the whole of her life, Helena had never known a night to last so long. The night would not let her sleep, for she was no longer tired. She was too busy anticipating, waiting until morning – where she could be freed of her physical chains. Although, for her mental ones, she would be more restricted than ever under his command. Yet, He promised to clear her mind. She doubted that He will keep His word, and if He did not... Well, it wasn't like she could do anything about it. She just wanted to forget all of her pain, her woes…

She wanted to forget it all. Start anew, even if it meant serving the person who was responsible to how her life unfolded. She could finally leave where she was being confided. Freedom sounded magical, something foreign, something that she had lost a long time ago.

Eventually, she drifted off into a subtle, light sleep, even though the night's chill crawled over her skin repeatedly.

It felt like a long time before she was awoken by the Dark Lord. She was relieved when He finally came to her. After all, the longest nights were often the worst. Helena knew that from experience. The morning felt hard and bitter, and Helena thought it resembled her feelings. There was no going back.

He softly ran his hand down the side of her cheek. She tried her best to not shiver, but she couldn't help it. The reaction had become instinctive to her.

"Shh. Sit up, Helena," He commanded and she obeyed. Pain still lingered and screamed in her body, ordering all of her muscles to not sit up, but she ignored it anyway. "Good," He commented, looking at her. She did not look away from him, but her eyes avoided his scarlet, red eyes out of submission.

"Kneel," He whispered softly. And she knelt in front of Him. "Look at me." She raised her eyes to meet His. His eyes showed curiosity to what will follow.

"I think you deserve you memory to be wiped, don't you?" He whispered in her ear. "After all you've been through, the amount weight on you shoulders is unbelievable. Also, I don't think that you'd follow my orders willingly. It'd be easier if you just simply believed that you wanted to be who you're about to become." He paused, and Helena looked sombre. "It won't be that bad. Many traitors will kill to serve me or to change sides this late in the game. Luckily, you get both."

She shifted uncomfortably, trembling slightly. Voldemort continued, and He got up and began to pace around the cell.

"All you have to do, is give me your obedience. To serve me - to worship me. And I can give you everything. But all you have to do, is say the word."

He has stopped pacing now, His back leaning against the wall, looking at her, waiting for an answer.

"Yes," she finally answered. "Yes - My Lord, I accept."

His lipless mouth curled and He pointed His wand at her.

"Obliviate!"

And whiteness over took her vision. It faded.

Voldemort smiled.

"Welcome back, Miss Prince."