bella sees your italic caps and raises you a bold (mostdevoted) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-08-05 09:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1980-08] august, bellatrix lestrange (née black), lord voldemort |
Who: Bellatrix and the Dark Lord
When: Wednesday morning
Where: The Dark Lord's secret lair
What: A meeting
Rating: Low
Status: Completed Log
Bellatrix was not a woman who dealt well with situations that were out of her control. Which was exactly what the days since Rodolphus's death had been. Even her own emotions betrayed her as she succumbed to fits of both rage and grief and nothing that she did seemed to calm her. Not her attempts at throwing herself into her final responsibilities as a wife, not her success in finding the identity of Rodolphus's killer, not even the Muggle blood that had been shed at her hand.
But then there was the feeling of her mark burning in her arm and it was like a panacea to Bellatrix's troubled mind.
She apparated to the Dark Lord's throne room and fell to her knees before Him, bowing deeply. She could feel the coolness radiating off the stone floor towards her forehead that almost, but not quite touched and she remained there, breathing only a reverent "My Lord," as she soaked in the feelings of relief and comfort that came from being allowed in his presence once again. It was overwhelming. Almost as much as the very first time she had knelt before him, although she was hardly the same woman she had been. She had been stripped of everything that she held dear, save this. All that remained was a woman determined to serve her Lord and avenge her husband's death. Nothing else mattered.
She did not attempt to shield her thoughts or emotions from Him. She never did, but even more so than ever before, she laid herself bare before Him. Every feeling she would not speak of, every deed she had taken in her attempts at vengeance, every word spoken and written, all was silently offered up to Him.
His response was silence at first, as he watched Bella grovel before him. He'd been less than pleased with her lately, and it seemed that displeasure had only made her more fervent a servant, more willing to serve Him, as she should have been. He was of the opinion that all of his followers needed to see hints of his perpetual disdain every once in a while to keep them obedient and slavish, and so he had not held back in their last meeting, nor when he sent Nott to demote her further. Now she was fully his, consumed with nothing but love for him, and the aching desire to please him. He could sense it.
He sensed a great many other things as well. Rodolphus's death. A pity, but if one of his followers was stupid enough to be captured and killed, he was beyond the Lord Voldemort's pity. He did not tolerate foolishness and error. He felt no loss.
"Yes, Bella?" He said, voice a high pitched rasp against the thick silence of the room. He could see what it was she wished to confirm in her mind, but he would have her say it. He would listen to the pleas for guidance.
Bellatrix did not want to speak of her reasons for coming. She did not wish to speak of her grief over all that she had lost, of her feelings of being lost without an anchor to hold her down. The admissions would be painful and she was not certain her words would not fail her. But her Lord commanded and so, obediently, Bellatrix pushed herself up from her prostrate pose, although she did not move from her knees, and her gaze remained fixed on the stone floor before her.
"My Lord, I come to you humbly to ask..." she began. No, this was not right. This was not who she was, the servant who was valued for her strength, both in mind and magic. She took a breath and lifted her head to look at the Master she so adored, her voice stronger now, although still every bit as reverent.
"My Lord, I had written to you to ask your help in identifying those who dared to strike down your loyal servant. So that I would see them destroyed for their crime. I have since learned it was the blood traitor Frank Longbottom, and I believe his wife as well. But I have been unable to draw them out. Instead they hide, writing lies as they dare to try and use Rodolphus's death to shake the very convictions of your servants. I do not know how to find them. I would see this entire country levelled to the ground so that nothing remains but your most devout of followers in the pursuit of your vengeance, but I am here to ask for your guidance. That in your wisdom you will steer my path so that I may carry out your purpose."
The corner of his mouth curled up in a mockery of a smile, and had the Dark Lord any sense of what magnanimity truly was, he might even have looked compassionate; but this was foreign to him, and so the smirk that tainted his features was spoilt and cruel. Frank Longbottom. He could use this to his advantage and gain Bellatrix's loyalty forever. She did not know that he sought them so fervently, that he was growing closer and closer to their whereabouts every day. She did not know that her own desperation to convince herself of the poignancy of Lestrange's death would serve him an even greater purpose.
"Bella," he soothed, hand reaching out to smooth over her cheek in a generous gesture of mangled affection. "Vengeance will be had. Your lord will see it done." He paused, groping her thoughts for anything else of use. "And you will see that Rodolphus's death will be the crucible of your weakness. You will become stronger for it. You will be my greatest servant..."
The relief that she had felt merely by his presence alone was only magnified by his touch and his words. He would see Rodolphus avenged and the last thought in the mind of the Longbottoms, aside from the agonising pain he would inflict, would be just how mistaken they had been to think that the Dark Lord cared so little for one of his greatest servants. There were none among the ranks who she would have allowed to take what was to be her vengeance, but to Him, to her beloved Lord and Master, she gave it up freely. He would take care of it and she would be at peace, free to devote herself wholly to his will.
"There is nothing I would wish for more," she said sincerely. "I know that I have faltered, my Lord. I have allowed myself to become distracted from your great purpose. And for that I can only plead for your forgiveness. But I have learned. And now... They would have me weakened by all that has been stripped away, but they do not know what it is they have done. I have nothing left but my devotion to you. I would be not only your greatest servant, but your greatest weapon as well. I will kill every last man, woman and child who dares to stand against you. But I know that my training is not yet complete. Rodolphus taught me well and I have devoted myself to my studies so that I can better serve you. But I would ask that I once again have the privilege of learning at your great hand."
His red eyes slid lazily over her as he considered her request. He was of the mind to grant it -- but not quite yet. She was grateful and so he enjoyed her attentions and servitude... but too much lenience and she might waver.
"I will think on the matter," he said vaguely, pulling his hand away from her once more and settling it on the arm of his chair. "Was there anything else?"
It was not the answer she had been hoping for, but she did not question his will and the fleeting moment of disappointment was quickly brushed aside. He had granted her so much already. The promise of vengeance to be had. The assurance of her own convictions that Rodolphus's death was for a greater purpose, so that she would have the strength to claim her rightful place at the Dark Lord's side. The promise of that position. He would train her only when he deemed her ready. But it had never been in Bellatrix's nature to remain passive and wait and so she dared to make one final request.
"Only that if there is some task I might devote myself towards for you, to prove the depth of my devotion and loyalty towards you, that you might grant me the honour of carrying out your will. So that I may redeem myself in your eyes. I wish for nothing more than to make amends for my failures, my Lord." She rather doubted that the Dark Lord would consider the destruction of Muggle villages and the owling of body parts to vigilantes to be a productive use of her time. Although certainly if his will was wanton destruction, she was more than adept at carrying it out. But the loss of Rodolphus had also deprived her of what focus he was able to bring to her propensity for chaos and now she turned to the one figure (she could not think of the Dark Lord as a mere man) who was able to provide it.
"Devote yourself to the task of removing Lily Potter and her half-breed offspring from my land," he said sharply, eyes keen and bloodshot. "You will prove your worth to me again Bella. You will remind me why I desire you by my side and why my hand shall make yours strong once again."
"Go. Do this for me."
"I will see it done, my Lord. With relish." She gave another low bow of her head and a reverent, "Thank you, my Lord," before rising and taking her leave, now filled with a strength and singular clarity of purpose she had not known in what memories she retained. She would see the Dark Lord's will done. She would regain her place among his most trusted servants and then some. All would be set right; she would see to it.