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A Warrior Afterall

MOTHER TELLS HER THAT SHE IS SPRING, SO SHE IS ALLOWED TO CHANGE. WHAT MOTHER NEGLECTS TO MENTION, HOWEVER, IS SHE IS SPRING IN A COLD REALM. EVERYTHING IS BOUND TO DECAY REGARDLESS. ................................................///

One might think that being Spring means life, youth, and light.

But Bellatrix is only the 27th brightest star in the night sky. She welcomes the dark, she has no choice. ░░░ Father is vastly disappointed (inconsolable, drowning in sorrow, re: in whiskey or scotch), while mother cries the loudest to showcase her despair.

But Bellatrix loved him first and most;

from the womb to the tomb, no one would ever love him like she did.

Betelgeuse was her brother (twin at that), and while she graced the earth just a minute before him, he would escape it before her; leaving her melancholy and furious (how d a r e you leave without me-). He did not burn out like most stars do after years and years of burning; instead he fell like the ones you wish upon—down, down, down the stairs he went...

It's frightening how much power small hands can hold. One push was all it took.

She sees him sometimes, at the corner of her eye, briefly passing the doorway as he toddles away; hears him, occasionally, when he suppresses a snicker or calls her to play; is sure of his presence (albeit faint), when she feels his cold breath trickle down the nape of her neck. I dare you to say his name three times...

Be-

-tel--geuse...She is told she has a wild imagination (no one else, not even any of the other wandering ghosts or whispering portraits, have ever seen the phantom boy).

"But he's right here," she says, trying not to cry. ░░░ As she gets older, so does Andromeda. People begin to coo, "my how you two look the same!" It is as though they're twins! And soon, Bellatrix begins to believe this as well, and she holds her sister's hand tighter while a fire within her burns bigger and brighter (though it feels like a wild one engulfing a forest instead of her own). It is as though her brother had never existed; she would be angry too if she were him. ░░░ They asked for a son, and got the moon instead (over and over again).

Narcissa completes their holy trinity, and together they are a storm — the lunar rays tugging at the ocean's waves to flood and envelope the world. ░░░ Seniority gains her certain responsibilities — Mother tells Bellatrix to rise, and instead she writhes.

How else is she to react to being a pawn in their game?

Mother's nimble, ready hands flexing fingers, poised to direct her piece across the board...

'Bella, young ladies should not

openly bear sharp, sharp teeth-'

'Bella, love can most certainly be cruelty, but duty is duty-'

'Bella, must you always burn so bright?'

No, no, no,

she wants to say, reacting to her mother's move with one of her own,

if anything, I am a Knight

, and one day she will prove this. The filial daughter that she is.

Until then, she will learn to bite her tongue until it bleeds, the iron in her mouth filling the void in her heart (I can be so much more: let me). ░░░ "Again."

Regardless of gender, she has to be better because she is better — by blood and name (she has to make up for what they lost, what could have been, even if that void a son should be filling will never really fully recover).

"Again."He circles her like a hawk, waiting for any minute signs of weakness and mistake. Every such met with an instant

zzzap

to her side, and a sharp glare that sends her aching for the floor, but refraining, steeling herself from the pain with a grit of her teeth and her own ever narrowing gaze."Again."This time, when the water in the basin starts to boil, it gets so hot that the vessel itself begins glowing red with heat the longer she stares at it. The toad swimming inside slowing...

dying... ░░░ One evening she wakes, startled by the sound of a laugh pouring right into her ear. Sleepy eyes forced open, Bellatrix's gaze falls restlessly about her room, looking for the source but turning up no answers. But the sound happens again, muffled a bit as it appears to be coming from outside. Slowly, carefully, she slides out of bed, her feet finding her slippers almost immediately before she tiptoes over to the door, opening it to follow the sound.

She spots a figure rounding the corner just then, and she calls out, "Betey?" Heart racing and determined, she follows into the night.

In the morning, her family and the house elves search for her for some time around the manor. They find her, eventually, in the tallest tower, curled up and sleeping, clutching to an old, dusty toy.

Her brother's. Her twin's. Betey's. ░░░ They keep her busy, otherwise she'll keep herself busy. And that's probably worse.

Ceaseless coursework, chess tournaments, dueling club meets, social parties — however it's also competition, competition, competition. Which she likes, except, it does something to her.

Conditioning, one could say.

There are some might call her 'friends' that can distract her. But they test her facets, have her swaying between being human and inhuman, and she tests them right back (competition, right?); so some might consider them just as bad. Hungry, young things that they are.

When Andromeda comes to Hogwarts, she's distracted a little more. And yet Bellatrix is Bellatrix and she can only be kept occupied for so long. ░░░ Albeit the youngest, she watches her with a fond respect, head tilting slightly as her baby sister's face narrows in concentration, her thoughts centered on the board. When this expression takes over her features, it reminds her of their mother, and causes the corner of Bellatrix's mouth to curve slightly. Knowingly. ░░░ At half past one in the morning, they lay in the middle of a field, amid soft dew and dogwood smells. A faint fog caresses the ground, and they move closer to forget the cold.

They tell each other made-up stories about made-up constellations and guess notes they've written one another on the backs of their hands and in the center of their palms, fingers tracing to remember the lines of their skin. Their limbs gradually tangle so much upon one another that they can scarcely tell where either of them begins and ends. Laughter weakens the barriers they usually carry about them.

When the sun rises, they finally make their ways back home. On the roof near her bedroom, he squeezes her hand and she leans in to whisper into his ear,

"good night, Rabastan." ░░░ They braid one another's hair with quick, diligent fingers, smirking as they banter, "if you can't beat me what will you do?"

Bella lets out a cackle, "I'm not about to go fifth round of the tournament letting you, of all people, beat me."

Andromeda snorts, "perhaps you've just been dueling with people who aren't as talented as they seem. Be honest, the sparring we do is the only true challenge you get-"

and she cuts off her sister, "ready your wand, Black, I'll take your abuse no longer!"

Her sister bites back a laugh. They take their places, bow, and take aim; smiling all the while. ░░░ She keeps trading her own self for another, switching back and forth between dutiful daughter, obsessive competitor, her sisters' guardian, and the warrior star.

No matter how much she strategizes, steeling herself for any oncoming wrath, she feels herself being stretched thin across the board, playing so many pieces at once. But the desire to win is so, so strong, craving a certain praise that she knows she'll never get. ░░░ His hand rests on the small of her back, screaming, 'mine, mine, mine!'

It is taking every fiber of her being not to take her wand, and use it to slice that limb away and keep cutting until there (he) is nothing left.

"You look rather good with it on", Rodolphus says.

"With what on?"

"'Lestrange.'"

And she looks far across the room at Rabastan, eyes boring into his person as if to say:

look what you've done. ░░░ Tick. Tock.

The tip of her nail keeps kissing the tabletop, matching the movements of a clock sitting somewhere in the room, out of sight, but just within hearing distance (enough to be ignorable, but annoying when you finally notice it). The tea would be getting cold, but the china's been charmed to keep it warm — steaming hot actually. Small wisps of of heat wafting off the drink's surface.

To her right, Rabastan has been still, as though petrified. Until finally, there is the slightest of rustles, a whisper of robes shifting as he straightens and speaks, firm albeit quiet, "Bella-"

She gets up out of the chair, running her palms down the skirt of her dress to smooth it before walking

out, out, out

of the room.

He calls her name once more, but just before the front door she apparates out of the house, leaving him to his heavy sigh.

When Rodolphus comes home, she is sitting in the study, chessboard out in front of her, playing against herself. Silently, he takes an armchair in the corner, reading.

He doesn't know how much time has passed before she rises and approaches him, gently placing her hand on his shoulder. The decision has been made. He glances over at the board, brow arched, "who won?"

Bellatrix's head tilts slightly to the side, "white." First player. First born.

Checkmate.

If Rabastan would dare to move on from her, then so shall she. ░░░ His name is Radames Betelguese Lestrange.

He becomes her e v e r y t h i n g.

She breathed his laughter, drank his smiles, and devoured his love.

"Betelguese,

Betelguese,

Betelguese,

won't you come to play?"And then he dies.Just like that. A bloody wisp lost to the wind. She never knew if he was Rabastan's or Rodolphus', but that didn't matter; because he was

hers.

░░░

He promises power,

He promises complete fulfillment,

He promises an existence beyond life and death.

She flings herself into his fire, eager, so e a g e r, for the distraction — and the idea that something could be done, to keep her son from becoming a ghost, like her brother (her twin) before him.

And finally the pawn becomes a Knight. ░░░ In the dimly lit room, the moonlight shines in through the window to highlight her figure, revealing a tall silhouette with a bodice glistening like broken glass.

"You're like ice on the window — no one invited you,

yet you still keep c r e e p i n g in."

Rabastan stands there, patient, before taking slow steps full of purpose. His arms eventually snaking in around her waist, and she is warmer than he anticipates (but he always had a feeling that her blood boiled hotter than anyone in existence). ░░░ There's a house on a hill that a family lived in. Ivy wove its way to the roof, and there's been no intention to prune it — the husband wouldn't dare touch it because the lady of the house thought it looked nice. A small child lived there too and was very well-loved by the aforementioned; it used to play at the very top of the stairs, king of his own world inhabited by the splendid wonders of his own imagination. The house was by no means an actual castle, but it became a home at some point that they could call their safe haven.

Only until it wasn't.

Flames lick the roof now, presenting the home to the evening sky, a new alter of ash to offer the heavens. She wants to see it burn bigger, brighter. Bellatrix is only the 27th brightest star in the night sky, but here on earth, she can be so much better.

Sacrifices, you see, must be made to keep her own family together. This household of muggles, for instance, is just right for it. At least, that's what the Dark Lord says.

(And she has to try.) ░░░ A flit of laughter carries from the other side of the room, and her sister echoes it. Meanwhile another set of spells zoom at one another — their movements in sync, never missing a beat as they leap off the tips of their wands in a glorious light display reflecting off their eyes, giving them a competitive glint. When they finish, her sister brushes back a curl of her hair that merely bounces back into place, never looking any less out of place than they had before.

"Another round, Meda?"

Bellatrix had called Narcissa by Andromeda's name. But she's so happy, smiling for once, dipped in bliss from the adrenaline of their duel and the comfort of being together (she hasn't seen that expression in so long, Bella so genuinely happy). So her baby sister doesn't correct her, she just smiles and nods. Knowingly