#vessel screaming “do you remember me” is the most inhumane thing he's ever done to me

[sleepanonymous]

I just wanna say that watching Mr. Vessel Sleep Token the First lay down in the middle of The Summoning tonight at Red Rocks was the most relatable thing I’ve ever seen him do. The Vessel/Mother Token fued may be over. I haven't decided yet, gonna sleep on it 🫡

[alexanderlightweight]

a curse is a curse (for better or worse)

@lynne-monstr for tentacletober: protective tentacles 

ao3 link

Magnus watched his lover and wished for a moment that he could have more of this, more of an unguarded and unhesitant Alexander, who would sweep him into an embrace and pour out his heart and soul.  Instead, he was given a paltry offering of what was his to claim. The sweet smiles of Alec’s heart were instead no more than a twitch of the mouth and vibrant words of ardor were turned into stilted and meaningless flummery.

It made Magnus ache with the need for vengeance, that he was denied the true depth of Alec's emotions thanks to a damnable curse.

Magnus’ fingers tightened about the flagon he held, it was some of his very best wares and he had been saving it for a special night.  Alexander had very little experience with spirits and what he’d tried were soft wines and fruited drinks, not hearty ales or fiery rums.  

He blinked back angry tears and tore the cork out with his teeth, throwing his head back and swallowing greedily.  The rum burned against his throat and he relished it, craved the heat and harshness of it as he drank. All he wanted was one night, a time of celebration and a warm body in his arms, Alexander’s body to be exact.  

Instead, now he was paused at their door, watching as Alec’s body contorted through a variety of inhuman features and had to blink back tears at hearing his muffled cries of pain.  Magnus was sure that when this was finished, he would find holes in the blankets that Alec was biting into.  

When Alec calmed a bit, the rum that Magnus had procured was not used for celebration but forcefully poured down a weak Alec’s throat, to ease his mind’s trouble and his body’s pain.

“We’re no closer to finding a cure.”  Alec whispered tiredly and he could barely keep his eyes open from the effort of speech.  The curse was only growing stronger and despite all his efforts, Alec was still firmly entrenched in this tormentous and awful fate.  

“I can alter the course of your destiny.”  Magnus admitted and his heart hurt at Alec’s confused but hopeful expression.  “I can meld the curse into your soul until you are the one who controls it and not it controlling you.”

“That’s wonderful,” Alec said with joy and then his smile faltered.  “Magnus, isn’t that good?”  

“You will never be truly free of the magic.”  Magnus reached out and lay his hand over Alec’s heart, “you will be bound to me and as I am, to the sea.  You will no longer be the same Alexander. The curse is just that, a magical spell attached to you but you are merely the vessel.  This, what I would do. I could have done it from the beginning.” To confess such a thing made bile rise in the back of his throat but he closed his eyes and swallowed back his own shame.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want you to say no or perhaps, I was afraid you’d say yes and hate me for the results.  You will no longer be a mere vessel, you will be more than that. I will have to shatter you apart and remake you, a new being entirely and no longer a mundane man.” 

“Magnus, I could never hate you.”  Alec promised, as if that were the most important detail of Magnus’ small speech to address.  “And you say that I am a man with a curse attached, but living like this is no life. I might be just a vessel for someone else’s power but I’m breaking, Magnus.  This curse tears at my life and I have no claim to my own body. If I can change that, it will be worth however it changes me.”

“You will have control.  I’m sure there will be a learning period but your body would be your own.”  Magnus lifted Alec’s hand and kissed his palm, “I don’t know how the magic will affect you entirely.  But it will and you will forever be of my world, if you chose this. We can still look for a way to cure you entirely.” 

Alec huffed and patted Magnus’ face, fingers brushing over his cheek, “I don’t need an absolute cure, Magnus.  I just need a way to live, with you.”

Magnus didn’t mind that tears escaped him, or that they probably smeared the kohl wrapped intricately around his eyes.  His relief and joy at Alec’s acceptance was too great to care about the trivialities of appearance and he prayed a silent thanks to every ancestor that had given him the power to offer this choice, even his father.  

-

Magnus pressed his brow against Alec’s and willed away the fear that threatened to drown him.  The water around them churned, agitated by his emotions and he pressed a small kiss to the corner of Alec’s eye.

“Hold your breath, love.”  He ordered and then they sank.

In the water Magnus’ abilities expounded and the tentacles that he’d grown entwined around Alexander as he swam them both into the depths.  Alec was limp in his hold, already knowing that any exertion on his part would only make things harder in the long run. Deep they went, to where the water was not just cool but icy against their skin and the darkness threatened to be endless.  

The air that escaped Alec’s lungs were a small trickle of bubbles and Magnus was gentle not to hold him too tightly and desperate to cling to him at the same time.  The hand he held spasmed, suddenly clenching down tightly on his fingers and he used magic to give him a desperate bout of speed and then they were surfacing up and into a cave.

Alec’s hoarse and heaving gasps for air were harsh and grating in the silence and Magnus, whose gills had appeared the moment he’d submerged, hurt at how desperately Alec shuddered in his arms.  

“Don’t talk just yet, breathe.”  

Alec nodded, teeth chattering from cold and exhaustion and lips nearly purple as Magnus set the place aglow with light.  He pulled himself onto the rocks and then dragged Alec after him, the man trying to help but his bare feet sinking into the loose rocks and he hindered more than he aided.  

“Magn’s,” Alec said and his voice was a bare whisper of sound, “soon, it comes soon.”

Damning the world and the cruelty of the fates, Magnus closed his eyes and from within more tentacles emerged and magic tipped their ends as he carved symbols into the rocks beneath him.  Karst tore under his touch and he pushed back his pain to continue his work until the ritual was laid out.  

Alec made no protest as Magnus’ tentacles pulled him to lie on the ritual and even offered a weak but cheeky grin when Magnus tore off his clothing. 

It made Magnus’ heart quiver and his will tempered with decisiveness.  

Desire was a powerful motivation and what Magnus desired most was that Alec live.

Therefore, Alexander would live and what a life it would be, Magnus would make sure of it.

The lines of blood and sacrifice lit up with power and perhaps, if he’d had more energy or the journey to this point less harrowing, he would have screamed.  Instead Alec shook with a silent misery, his body jolting against his will and Magnus’ held him down with firm hands, a soft voice and the unrelenting vice of his tentacles. 

Around them the water echoed Magnus voice, repeating his words and lapping at the shore until it frothed and danced and tiny waves formed and amidst it all, Alec struggled still.  

Something changed, like the sudden pull of a tide and Alec went limp in his hold.  Hazel eyes were wide and unseeing and Magnus dropped his wrists to quickly cup Alec’s face, “stay with me.”  He begged and tears of relief streamed from his face as Alec’s lashes slowly fluttered and his chest continued to rise and fall.  “That’s all I’ll ever ask of you Alexander, just stay with me.”

A weak smile answered him and Alec’s head lolled to the side, his clammy lips brushing Magnus’ palm in a fleeting kiss.  

“You’re alright my love.”  Magnus whispered as Alec sunk into unconsciousness, safe and sound, “I’ll keep you safe.”  

Around him, the birthright of his power and his tentacles -a mark of his heritage- rose up and began to weave a curtain of protective magic, a temporary safe haven of rest before he once again took Alec into the deep.

-

Being kissed awake was something Magnus could get used to, he thought the next day when Alec roused him from his slumber.  They were salty kisses, from brine and tears of joy and the taste of them as sweet as nectar and quenched his thirst the same as a drink from the purest mountain stream.  

Alec was stronger for the journey this time, his body no longer a constant battle of mortality and curse and as they broke the surface near the shoals, Magnus laughed in relief.  Alec was warm in his arms and tentacles, solid and tangible and as soon as he had caught his breath, Magnus pulled him close, wanting a kiss.  

There was a moment of confusion and then Magnus stared in startled shock at the bundle in his arms where Alexander had once been.

It was in a panicked shock that he got to shore, he wasn’t sure what part of him remained transformed, just that he was holding a juvenile canine in his arms and fear was beginning to sink his heart.  He groaned a disbelieving refusal and tried not to stare too hard into the large, confused hazel eyes that were deep set in dark chocolate fur.

“Alec.”  He whispered, unsure what direction this new element had taken.  If it was his lover trapped in the body of a dog or if he’d been truly turned into one.  If Magnus had failed to divert the curse and had instead only sped it up by altering it. True, it was better to have a docile adolescent canine in his arms than trying to wrestle an abundance of mindless creatures.

The dog yipped, a confused and startled sound before adding to the noise a cacophony of yowls as it backed away.  The dog stared down at it’s own paws and continued to back away before tripping on it’s tail and giving a sharp, surprised bark.  It’s small body was heaving as it began to panic and Magnus’ acted quickly, a tentacle circling around it’s body just as the instinct to flee kick in and it tried to run.

“Alec, Alexander.  If you can understand me please, I need you to close your eyes.  Remember the feeling of rope under your fingers and steel in your palm.”  Magnus wasn’t sure what he was saying, reaching for anything that would remind Alec that at his core, no matter his body he was still human.  

Seemingly, it helped.  

Magnus could only hope that it would be enough.  

-

Magnus scowled out across the deck.  The ocean was a fury, beautiful and winsome but fierce with waves that crashed against his ship.  

It was only the blessing of the gods - or perhaps his father - that had kept his ship upright and whole.  The naval ship that had pursued them was long gone, nothing more than kindling and driftwood and gifts of its dead for the sea. 

There was something about the power he felt here, on a voyage and with the swell of a wave under his ship, the smoothness of polished wood under his palm and the tang of salt on his tongue.  

Behind him there was a barely audible yelp and he turned in alarm, just in time for his tentacles to emerge and scoop up the large puppy that was lumbering about the deck.

“Alexander!”  He scolded and his tentacles deposited the dog in his arms so he could hold it close, his heart racing from fear.  “You shouldn’t be up here,” he said sternly and ignored the large, sad eyes that gazed at him.  “Come on pup,” he said soothingly and scooped the dog into his shirt, “there’s a good boy.” Milk teeth nipped at his skin and he ignored the pain to make sure he had his cargo safe and secure as he descended into the hull.  He sat on his bed, a book in his hand as he began to read aloud, the pup with it’s head on his thigh and it seemed like an age before there was a shift and coarse fur turned to soft locks under his fingers.  

“Magnus, I am not an actual dog.  You do remember that, right?” Alec asked, frown set deep on his face and Magnus reached out to erase the scowl with a caress of his fingers.  “I would have been fine on the deck, it’s rough waters. Not a storm.”

“A man you might be,” Magnus said with a small smile, “and what a man that is, but when whatever lingers of the curse hits you, you are often very small.  I just don’t want to lose you, Alexander. It would be too much for me to bear, to have you taken just because I wasn’t careful enough and a wave stole you from me.”  In the privacy of his own mind, Magnus also worried about the thievery of seagulls. Nasty birds they were and they could get quite large, he always worried that one day a greedy gull would see his cursed lover and swoop in for it’s next meal before he could react.

“You’re thinking something ridiculous and untrue again,” Alec guessed and he sat up, back against the wall as he patted his legs, making room for them to switch places so Magnus could curl into his lap.  

“Thinking of you could never be ridiculous.”  Magnus retorted and made a happy noise when Alec’s fingers brushed through his hair.  They stopped, most likely out of courtesy of his style and Magnus made a disgruntled noise, respecting his fashion was one thing but denying him affection for it was another.

“Alec,” he said warningly and then the same strong fingers returned with more force and he sighed happily.  “Once you learn better how to control this, the world will be ours, my love.” It was a promise and Alec smiled at him, amusement in the crease of his eyes and the corners of his lips.

“As you say.”  Alec told him and bent to press a kiss to Magnus’ brow, “prince of the seas.”

Magnus smiled up at him and reached a hand to thread through his hair, pulling him back down for another kiss.  

“You do make a cute pup.” 

Above him Alec groaned, but he only wrapped Magnus in a tighter embrace.

“It was so much easier to protest that nickname before all of this.”

“Well, at least something good has come of all of this.”  Magnus hid a smile when Alec’s face scrunched up, “I get to call you pup now, and for good reason.”  

“Well apparently I’m still cursed.”

-

Magnus leaned over the railing of his ship, staring down at the seal that barked up at him and several of his tentacles summoned themselves, automatically uncoiling to strike before pulling Alec’s chubby, sleek form to the deck.  

A tentacle tapped impatiently on the wood as Alec arfed sheepishly and Magnus crossed his arms with a scowl, not happy at having to fish his lover out of the ocean at the crack of dawn.  While Alec was getting better at managing his transformation he sometimes still slipped up, especially when tired.  

A part of his poor mood was also guilt, but Magnus refused to apologize.  It was not his fault that he had reacted poorly, the fact was that anyone would startle in his position.  One moment he’d been kissing a very handsome man and the next he’d accidentally heaved a heavy, fishy seal into the water.  Some things were unacceptable and one of them was going from staring into Alec’s deep, hazel eyes to being looked at adoringly by a baby seal.

“If you don’t figure this out soon,” he threatened slowly, making sure that all of Alec’s attention was on him, “then you can forget any kisses until you do.” 

Magnus had never seen shock on a seal before.  Alec’s flippers came up as he smacked himself in the face, the pressure causing his nose to scrunch in and his eyes bulged in askance as little barks escaped his throat.  

“Cute,” he said dryly and raised a brow, “however my point stands.  Only human Alexander’s get kisses or,” he added with a devious glint, “a place in my bed.”  

Alec’s indignant barks as he waddled and flopped after Magnus were enough to make him laugh but he hid it, biting his lip as he tried not to snort.  

Alexander always did excel with the proper motivation and while Magnus normally indulged his lover, he could also be stern when equally motivated.  

-

Magnus watched as Alec, with more delight in his eyes than he’d seen in a long time looked down at him and then grinned.  It was a dangerous gleam and Magnus cursed every deity in existence that the curse had apparently only bolstered his lover’s curiosity and fearlessness.  He swung on the riggings and tilted his head back, Magnus could envision how he’d have his eyes closed, neck bared to the warmth of the sun. He wished it were his fingers caressing that soft skin and not the rays of the sun and then his thoughts were interrupted as Alec whooped.  

He let out a loud, raucous yell as he swung out and then he let go.  Magnus raised a hand, ready to use whatever power needed to push him aside so that he fell into the sea rather than land on the deck but before he could, Alexander’s body changed.  For the first time, Magnus saw the transition as fluid and there was a victorious screech as a hawk formed in his place and soared around the main mast.  

Far from soon enough, Alec lowered himself to the mortal plane and hovered in front of Magnus.  Magnus offered his arm, the same he did when they walked together on a beach and Alec alighted, sharp talons closing gently about his forearm and giving a regal little nod.  

“Don’t you ever do that to me without warning again, Alexander.”  Magnus murmured through gritted teeth bared in a menacing smile and Alec gave a low little cry, feathers puffing out and head ducking low as if in remorse.  “Please,” he added quietly, “I’ve nearly lost you far too many times of late.” 

-

“Does this mean you have enough control over it now?”  Magnus asked Alec later, when he was human again and sitting on their bed with a smug grin.  The smile faded a bit and Alec shrugged, unsure and still a bit insecure about how to manage his new abilities.  

“I think I’ll still have to be careful.”  He admitted, “but at least now when I change, I have a little bit of a better idea of how to control what I change in too.  No more accidentally changing into a fish or eel and you having to throw me into the water.”

Magnus winced at the memory and tugged Alec into a hug, hooking his chin over his shoulder and tucking his head to Alec’s neck.  It had been more traumatic than the seal incident, as Alec had needed the water just to breathe.  

“That was awful.  I would have followed you overboard immediately but I had to wait for someone to take the helm.”

“Magnus, you did the best you could, which is already better than anyone else could have done.”

“I threw you overboard and was half terrified you’d either be eaten or panic and give into whatever instincts fish have and swim too deep.  You had no control at that point Alec, you might have died before ever reaching the surface.” 

“But I didn’t and you found me and kept me company until I changed back.”  Alec reminded him, “and now I can make sure that I change into something safer.  Also, you can’t threaten to keep kisses away from me anymore.”

Magnus laughed and happily gave a kiss, letting himself linger and after a moment he deepened the kiss, exalting in the feel of muscle and smooth skin under his touch.

-

Magnus cursed as something crashed into the back of his leg and he nearly stumbled.  He looked down with a scowl and then paused, staring at the ragged looking cat that was now purring and rubbing its face against his leg.

“What happened?”  He asked worriedly and immediately scooped it up, wincing at the mud he felt crusting it’s belly.

“Oh sweetheart.  Please tell me you weren’t chased by the mutts in this town?”  He asked, tenderly wiping at the animals face. The cat meowed at him, eyes big and pleading as he shushed it and he sighed, “I thought we were doing better with this.”  He muttered and then shook his head, “can’t be helped I suppose.”

“Magnus?”  

Alec asked and Magnus blinked down, shocked to hear his lover’s voice while he was still transformed and for a moment he wondered if this were some new skill that Alec had unexpectedly developed.

“Magnus, is that a cat?”  

“Alec?”  He asked and turned, cheeks pinking just slightly as he took in Alec’s tall form and the bag of goods slung over his shoulder, “ah... there you are.”  

Alec looked confused for a mere moment and then he snorted, laughing loudly as he bent nearly in half from the force of his humor.

“Oh by the gods, Magnus did you think that was me?”  

Magnus huffed, setting the stray down and shooing it along, “it was hardly a stretch to make the assumption, my love.”  Alec continued to laugh and Magnus narrowed his eyes, “it was plausible, Alec.  Speaking of which, you really should calm down before you-” he broke off what he was saying as Alec suddenly toppled over.  Magnus didn’t even bother trying to catch him, just sighed as he looked down to the tangle of paws and tail and the outraged expression on the love of his life’s now furry face.

“You brought this on yourself, pup.”  He said sternly and before Alec had a chance to protest, had picked him up, “and no, I am not going to trust you to walk on your own.  I know you’re you and we’re going to keep it that way. No more of this mistaken identity business.”  

Alec relented with a huff and deigned not to fuss as Magnus grabbed the satchel Alec had dropped upon transforming.

-

Magnus didn’t react to the mocking laughter, the rope around his throat or even the cold iron shackles that bound his hands.  If he’d wanted, he could have easily torn apart his enemy but they’d followed him this far and followed him steadily and without apparent cause.  Some might consider him a fool, but he wanted to know just what stoked such a steadfast pursuit.  

A rustle at his ankle caught his attention and a small snake blinked at him before disappearing into his pants.  There was a pause and then a very interesting journey where he tried not to move and give himself away from laughter before the snake managed to escape the confines of his shirt and pause on his shoulder.

“That was quite forward of you.”  Magnus teased and a soft but indignant hiss sounded, a tiny forked ear tickling the back of his ear unpleasantly.  “Alright,” he muttered, “ apologies , you did your best without any limbs.  But why on earth are you so small? They’ll crush you under their heel if they find you.”  Alec made no answering noise, instead encircling his neck and the smooth scales and cool weight of him reminded Magnus of a necklace.   Not exactly how he liked to think of his lover but he could suffer the indignity of comparing Alec to a cheap circle of metal, for now.  

Beneath his skin his tentacles coiled, full of power ready to be unleashed and his lover hid, a small but deadly coral snake ready to strike down their enemies.  

It wasn’t until Magnus was being held at sword-point that he lost his temper and decided to act.  Truly, he could have taken any barrage of insults or physical abuse but in that moment, a deadly metal point was aimed towards where Alexander’s form lay hidden and he would allow no danger to his lover. 

His tentacles uncoiled from the core of his magic, growing to a mass far greater than he should be able to bear and one wrapped around the mast, cracking it as one might snap a wishbone at dinner.  

It fell with a might boom and even as chaos began to form, Alec struck.  His small body hurtled through the air and Magnus saw the exact moment their supposed captor met his fate, the widening of his eyes in panic as small fangs inserted venom into his jugular.  A moment later Alec transformed, a grimace on his face as he spit blood on the felled body.  

Magic could only be contained so much and Alec’s defenses and reactions when he shifted were twice as deadly as a mundane creatures natural abilities.  

Their crew took it as the signal it was and they fought, all glee and blood-thirst and Magnus watched indulgently as he and Alec stood together, untouched by melee around them.  In the end they had no useful information but well, Magnus was always eager to destroy yet another of the Clave’s mighty vessels.  

Once again at the helm of their ship, with Alec by his side, they watched the sinking of the enemy vessel.  What might seem a tragedy to some was but a beautiful victory to them and Alec grinned deviously as he strung a lit arrow and fired.  They’d covered the deck of the ship with gunpowder and oil and it lit up beautifully as their crew watched and cheered. There would be few to no survivors and if there were, well Magnus didn’t mind a few more legends being told of him.

Alec’s hand found his, fingers tangling with his and when Magnus turned to look at him, his heart stuttered with awe.  A cursed mortal son and the son of an old cursed one, never would Magnus have thought he’d find happiness like this, or that he would ever experience a love so powerful as the one he shared with Alec.

The life they lived may be a cursed one, but oh what a life it was.  

[kairiofknives]

Something that may one day become a MDZS fanfic

Wei Wuxian would never make the claim that he had been a good man.

He would also dispute that he had been an inherently bad man, even at his worst.  The fact remained, no matter how hard he tried to scrub at the blood coating his hands, that he had murdered thousands in cold blood.  His legacy as Yiling Patriarch would also be stained crimson.  So few had been spared his fury, even when he tried his damndest to protect them.  At the siege of the Burial Mounds, there had been no attempt in his mind to refute that he truly and honestly deserved to die for his sins.  In the most painful and inhumane way possible.  The only way that blood could be repaid was with his life.

So he died.

That should have been the end of it.  Sure, by some outlandish miracle he was revived in Mo Xuanyu’s body.  But it wasn’t as if he had continued his life where it left off.  Every moment since his resurrection, he and Lan Wangji had tried to erase the lingering effects of his previous failures.  Not once did he hope for a life resembling his old one.  He knew better.  His name would forever be a curse, a horror story to trick naughty children into obedience. His craft, which he had taken up out of necessity that no one else ever knew about, would be a dark spot in history. Wei Wuxian would always find someone, something willing to make his life more difficult than need be.  But that would have been fine, as long as he could struggle through those moments with the sole source of light in the wretched darkness of his life after Wen Chao.  He didn’t ask for much.  He didn’t even ask for happiness.  The only thing he wanted…

…was him.

Wei Wuxian laughed hollowly, grip tightening on the metal pendant in his hand.  He should have known better, probably.  Life was determined to string his miserable existence along, but it would never freely give him anything.  Not what he wanted.  Nor what he needed.

Guanyin Temple looked so eerie, cast in flames and bathed in blood.  The screams of the people around him were all but background noise to Wei Wuxian.  In truth, he had become numb to that sound, the sound of rending flesh and the cries of ghouls, long ago.  The Stygian Tiger Amulet felt cold in his hands.  An unwelcome weight that he never had wished to see nor feel again.  Just another wish that would never be answered satisfactorily.  His eyes roamed the ruined temple aimlessly.  Given some time to distance himself from this, he may have felt some form of regret.  Lan Xichen was a good and honorable man.  It was a pity to watch his body get torn to shreds by his ghouls.  Though, luckily, the man had long since died of other means.

His blackened soul had no room for regret now though.

No fierce corpse would ever carry as much vengeful energy as he did right now, he mused. Heart still beating, flesh still warm, but he was as frightening a demon as any could ever feast their eyes on.  As it should be, he thought, hand stroking the head of hair cradled gently in his lap. The last bit of good in his heart had been ripped so forcibly from him.  So cruelly. Just as it was finally his.  The world could burn for its injustice.  Wei Wuxian didn’t care anymore.

An inquisitive growl drew his eyes.  It seemed that the last of the worshipers had finally been slaughtered.  The melody that fueled the ghouls’ intent turned their attention to him, sitting quietly in the center of the courtyard.  They seemed almost hesitant.  He smiled.

“I ordered you to kill every living creature you laid your eyes on, did I not?” His voice did not tremble. He was not frightened.  “Come, then.  You’ve missed one.”

Wei Wuxian did not fully remember the siege of the Burial Mounds.  Nor did he remember that time at the Nightless City.  Tales had indicated that he had perished being ripped apart by his own monstrosities.  He didn’t exactly envy that fate before this.  But, he mused as the ghouls rushed forward with teeth bared, he had made a promise to Lan Wangji.  He would remember everything that happened from then on.  No matter how wonderful or painful.  This too, he would endeavor to recall.  He scorched the feeling into his soul.

His last conscious thought was a plea that he knew would be ignored.  All his others had been.  Still, he figured he had nothing left to lose.

“I wish there had been some way to go back and fix all this.  Spare the innocent, right the wrongs done both by intent and coincidence.  At the very least, tie me to the souls of those I love, so that I may find them in whatever comes next and make up for what I was powerless to stop before.”

The darkness that swallowed him was warmer than he expected it to be.  He may have just been imagining it, but he could have sworn he heard something reply.

…this will be your last chance.  Do not fail again.

The warmth around him became almost too much to bear.  Hell was certainly well described.  Dark, empty and uncomfortably warm.  Almost like being smothered in a bunch of blankets in the summer at the Lotus Pier.  Still, something felt off about this.  The longer he sat, the more he could sense things.  Strange things for a dead person, at least.  The thread of a heavy sheet on his bare feet. A too hard bed beneath his back. A soft, wet cloth on his forehead. And the disgusting smell of medicine. No, that couldn’t be though.  He was certain he had died.  At the very least, should anyone find a body in the state he knew his was in, no one would try to revive them.  Then, what…?

Cracking an eye open took every ounce of concentration and strength in him.  The light was almost blinding, making his head throb horridly. Finally able to focus on what he was seeing, he recognized a soft white ceiling.  No way.  The room did appear to be an infirmary.  The whirling nausea was a product of both his dizziness and the growing panic in his gut. No.  This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.  What on Earth could he be expected to do now?  How could he move on from that hellish massacre?

“You’re finally awake, huh, Wei Wuxian?”

His heart stopped. Both eyes wide, he focused on the familiar face sitting so close to his bed.  Just as irate as ever, but at least ten years younger than the last time he saw him, sat Jiang Cheng.

What?

“A….A-Cheng?”

The boy across from him scoffed.  “Don’t call me that, idiot.  You can’t sweet talk your way out of this one.”

Wei Wuxian blinked. It sort of figured that his first time seeing his dearly departed brother again, he would be scolded.  The trouble was he had no idea what he was being blamed for.  He hadn’t even killed Jiang Cheng.  

His confused look served only to enrage his brother more.  “Don’t give me that look either!  You tried to summon that ghoul’s resentful energy in the forest last night. Don’t try to deny it.  I told you before, didn’t I?  I don’t care what you think about in that dumb head of yours, but don’t you dare try to walk that heretic’s path.  Could you imagine what Lan Qiren would do if he found out?  You’d be shamed and sent back to the Lotus Pier! And knowing you, I’d somehow get in trouble with you!”

He had heard this rant before, he realized.  His memory might have been shit, but he could still put two and two together.  Jiang Cheng’s young face, the unfamiliar and shockingly white building, the cool air, and the threat of Lan Qiren’s fury…

He was in the Cloud Recesses.  Not just that, but back when they had still been studying there as kids.

“Wei Wuxian?  Are you listening to me?”

No.  That simply wasn’t possible.  Wei Wuxian kept waiting for his memories of his time in Mo Xuanyu’s body to fade away, like some elaborate dream that he just slipped out of.  Yet, to his surprise, they stayed.  Not only them, but his memories of the life before that too.  

A sharp pressure in his stomach accompanied the realization that this was real.  He went back in time, with all his memories.  The war hadn’t even started yet.  The Lotus Pier, Uncle Jiang and Madame Yu, Wen Ning and the Wen remnants, Jiang Cheng, Lan Xichen and…

…Lan Zhan.

Nothing was lost yet. He could fix things.  He could fix all of it.

But, first…

“I’m gonna be sick,” he muttered, shooting up and finding the nearest vessel to empty his guts into.

I hear your plea and answer it, Wei Wuxian.  Your last trial put you at a disadvantage.  It is no wonder that you failed.  This time, I’ve given you all the tools you’ve ever had and more time than you were ever offered.  This will be your last chance.  Do not fail again.

[godsickk]

How Nina’s first-ever execution probably played out. Warnings for written blood/cannibalism.

“Tauhrelil, we heard you from halfway down the hall.” Vela stepped into the room, with Lira and Orufei close behind. “Why I thought you might treat this occasion with the dignity it deserves is beyond me.”

“She’s just excited,” Lira said. “At least she’s not throwing up. I, ah – that’s what I did, before my first one…”

“Oh, we remember,” said Orufei. “See, Tauhrelil? You’re already doing better than at least one of us, and you haven’t even set foot in the arena yet.”

Nina wasn’t listening to them; she was listening to the noise of the audience gathering right outside the arena doors. It slowly grew louder as more people found their seats, and Nina’s energy grew with it. Zero sang and buzzed in the marrow of her bones. She felt their eagerness as if it were her own. More than that, she felt their hunger. Her mouth filled with spit; Nina swallowed it before it could spill past her lips.

Yaravi joined them, and then Asaau last of all. All six of her brothers, here to see their newest member off to her first execution. Well, technically it was a trial – her final one, and the one that would make or break her – but Nina knew with absolute certainty that she would succeed. She would. She had to.

None of the other six could take their eyes off her. All of them, even Asaau, suddenly felt as if they couldn’t speak – as if every word had deserted them. It was Irinai who finally broke the silence.

“Well?” he said, and tried to smile at her. “Are you ready to make them love you?”

Nina met his gaze. Her answering grin showed enough teeth for both of them.

“Irinai. Brother.

“I’m going to make them worship me.”

Her words and the sound of her voice as she said them sent a shiver zipping down Asaau’s spine, and in the corner of his vision, he thought he saw the same thing happen to Lira and Yaravi.

The wall monitor switched on then, showing the crowd that had completely filled every tier of seating. Their voices echoed, playing from the monitor half a heartbeat behind the murmurings on the other side of the doors. Both strains of sound suddenly erupted into fresh cries and whispers as two jailers escorted a third, smaller figure past them. Nina stared at the monitor, her gaze locked on that figure as each jailer whispered something into his ear and then retreated. They left him standing in the middle of the arena, looking incredibly small and alone against the empty expanse of bone-white sand.

Nina’s excitement and Zero’s energy leaped as the camera zoomed in on his face. A powerful thrill swept through her body as she took in his eyes, glassy with fear, and the sweat that gleamed at his lip and in the hollows of his temples. She felt as if she could smell his sweat, smell his fear, through the monitor, through the doors that stood between them. The air around her had taken on an electric weight, the tingling of an oncoming lightning strike. There was a faint smell of ozone. The other six felt it too, and with it the same breathlessness and sped-up pulse that Irinai had experienced earlier. She was magnetic. Even Vela was unable to look away from her, though he tried.

“Will the six be restored to seven tonight?”

Nina whipped to face the doors. The heads of the other six jerked to follow her, but with that sudden movement, her hold over them broke.

“This newest is one of the youngest to try herself  before you,” the announcer’s voice went on. “But will she succeed? Many have their doubts. She is young, yes – very young. Perhaps too young. More than that, she is female. Few women have tried for the title of High Justice; fewer still have come this far. And yet even this is not the most unusual thing about Nina, second of the name Tauhrelil.”

Oh, gods, Nina thought. They’re going to mention that. She’d been expecting as much, but that didn’t stop her from hating it.

“Only three years ago, we lost Foremost High Justice Aurileh, fourth of Sadehr, in the execution of Vene, fifth of Tauhrelil.”

She wasn’t her father. She was not.

“Now his daughter comes forth, hoping to fill the space that her own father created. Can the daughter make restitution for the sins of her father? Can our High Justice hopeful clear the Tauhrelil name? I ask you, can she overcome the stain of her father’s legacy?”

The crowd roared. Nina couldn’t tell whether they were saying yes or no, but it didn’t matter. They’d all be saying yes by the end. By the end, they’d be screaming for her.

“It is for you, those watching tonight, to decide if she can. Tonight, you will all determine this woman’s future. Will we witness an end, or a beginning? There is only one way to know. Let us commence the trial of Nina, second of Tauhrelil.”

As the crowd went off again, Nina squared up before the doors, chin up, shoulders back, Zero’s vessel gripped tightly in her left hand. Their excitement ran wild through her, mingling with her own and growing, growing, hot light building within the cage of her ribs until Nina half-thought it would burn through her skin.

This is it, she told herself, this is it, now it begins, this is what I was born for. Zero blasted agreement through her mind in shrieking, gibbering laughter, and it was all Nina could do not to echo them. If she started now, she might not be able to stop.

The doors slid slowly, heavily open, and Nina got her first look at the crowd, a sea of faces now staring at her and her alone. Every eye followed her movements as she strode out into the center of the arena, tall and powerful and, above all, unhurried. She took her time, luxuriating in the weight of countless gazes bearing down on her. On her. They were here for her, thousands and thousands of them, with gods knew how many more watching on any screen they could find. She’d known this feeling for less than a minute, and she already loved it. And Zero loved her love of it, her inhuman confidence in the face of it; her soul was flooded with their manic approval. They told her yes yes yes; they told her this is yours they owe you this their eyes their minds their worship; they told her how beautiful she was to them in this moment, how beloved, how achingly bright.

They told her to see the way the audience stared like frozen prey, and to hear their heartbeats and the blood rushing through their veins, and how wonderful it would be to spill it in rivers, and Nina wrenched her gaze to the man before them.

That’s our prey. She locked eyes with him; his were huge with fear. Him right there. Taste that fear. Listen to the way his heart is already pounding fit to burst…

Nina forced away the pity that threatened to creep in. Focused instead on Zero’s answer of ripping hunger, on the breathless tension of the crowd. This man had earned his death. She’d studied his file. She knew his crimes.

Nina drew in a deep breath. It was time to begin.

“This world is riddled with plagues.”

Her voice rolled out sure and strong, reverberating through the arena. Nina could feel the crowd’s interest sharpen. She broke her gaze with the dead man and began to circle him in the same long, unhurried stride, face tilted to the crowd.

“They thrive in the wet and heat. They spread in the depths of our cities and then reach as high as they can. We’ve all seen at least one epidemic in our lifetime, even if we only watched it from above. We know where they come from, what they look like, what they do to their victims. But!” Her voice rose. “Plagues come in other forms! Plagues can be beliefs, traditions, places, ideas. Does it ruin what it touches, does it breed suffering and death, does it spread and claim more lives? Then it is a plague!” She’d found her cadence, and her voice came forth stronger than ever. Zero was alive and flowing, resonating with her, lending her voice an unearthly power. Though she kept her face towards the crowd, Nina could hear the dead man’s heartbeat and taste the salt of his fear. “Society is plagued with murderers, with rapers and oathbreakers, with abuse of power and gross injustice. A person can be a plague, if their actions are a blight on the world. I know too well the plague of the individual! I am descended from Vene fifth of Tauhrelil, motherfucking plague incarnate!”

Her passion spiraled higher and higher, fed by Zero’s heat. The air carried it as a low, electric buzz that was felt, not heard, and Nina knew the crowd felt it. She sensed parted lips, widened pupils, rising heartbeats. They stared at her, swayed in time with her. The dead man’s fear was an almost physical thing, flickering at the corner of her vision, whispering against her skin.

“You know what my father has done!” Her heart beat louder, faster, the pulse of it filling her utterly, and her pace quickened. “The innocents he’s murdered, the rot and sickness he spreads, the monstrosities he’s created! He is pestilence wrapped in human skin! His actions have tainted the Tauhrelil name for generations!”

The crowd shouted their agreement.

“Is it not fitting that his own descendant should step forth to burn away the rot?” The crowd roared again, louder than before. Zero burned in Nina’s lungs and throat, filling them, strengthening her voice even further. “If my father is the plague, then I am the cure!” Once more the audience cried out for her, their loudest yet. They fell into a rhythmic murmur, a low-thundering counterpoint to Nina’s ringing tones.

“We treat common plagues with medicines, chemicals, herbs, injections. With cures born of earth and water. But how do we treat the stranger plagues among us? How do we treat plagues born not of the body, but of humanity itself? How do we treat that which plagues the soul?”

“AIR AND FIRE!” the audience screamed back. “AIR AND FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!”

“FIRE!” Nina echoed. Her voice roared forth, layered with alien power. “Hellfire, holy fire, fire of terror – do you want to know what I will do as your cure? Do you?!”

They screamed for her, begging, crying her name.

“THEN WATCH!” Still circling the dead man, circling, circling. Nina lifted her arm and pointed Zero’s vessel at him, keeping it perfectly steady as she paced. The dead man’s eyes followed her with mute helplessness, but only as long as she was in front of him. He was paralyzed. Couldn’t move his eyes to see her, let alone turn his head. Those eyes were so wide and bloodshot that Nina half expected them to burst, just like her own left had all those years ago…

“I will dedicate myself to destroying plagues, starting with this tainted cell before us, until I have eradicated every last motherfucking trace of my father’s legacy!” They were screaming for her after every sentence now, but the dead man had yet to make a sound. “I will protect you all, fight for you, lay down my life in the pursuit of justice! I will chase evil to the ends of the world and show it what it means to incur the wrath of the gods!”

Zero beat and pulsed in the air around her, a heavy aura of fear and excitement and desire. The crowd swayed to that energy, reached for it, cried out for it. Nina had more to say, but no words with which she could say it. What she felt within her was too big for human speech; Zero could never be reduced to that. And yet she couldn’t stop here, couldn’t kill before the moment hit. Couldn’t kill before she’d broken her victim. But how…?

She opened her throat to Zero.

What came out was a long, high, wordless note that shivered and soared through the air. The audience reached fever pitch on hearing it, and the dead man’s fear spiked violently. Mingled ecstasy and bloodlust swept through Nina, and she let herself go to the strange song now pouring from her. Her voice became an unearthly almost-wail that never stopped for breath as it dipped and rose, dipped and rose. She sang power and terror, blood and rapture, the notes harmonizing with Zero and the voice of the crowd and the beat and pulse of her own body.

And then, finally, the dead man began to scream. At first his screams were short, broken things, but they soon ran together into one unending shriek that rose and fell in counterpoint to Nina’s voice. His scream was the final note that she had subconsciously been missing. With it, the layered sounds created a perfect wholeness that Nina had never known before in her life, and she lost herself in it. She felt as if she had no heartbeat, no blood, no bones or organs; she was filled with air and light and Zero, Zero, Zero. Nina sang the dead man his death, and as the harmony reached its peak, she finally broke her circling and came for him in a blur of jet black and glowing turquoise. She felt his skull shatter under Zero’s vessel as the crowd exploded, losing themselves in Nina’s own blood-drunk fervor. The smell of her victim’s blood flooded Nina’s senses while the crowd screamed and screamed around her, and as their cries slowly died down, another chant gradually took its place.

“Further.”

She knew what that meant. The scent of the dead man’s blood was torment.

“Further! Further!”

Zero screamed with them. They wanted to taste. Wanted to eat. They wanted a mouthful of this flesh that had been so thoroughly drenched with terror.

So did she.

Nina laid down Zero’s vessel, then knelt by the still-bleeding corpse. She lifted its torso in one arm, cradling the almost headless body as if it were a lover, and then drove the five straightened fingers of her free hand through its chest. With her clawlike nails and unnatural strength, it was easy. The audience screamed for her again as Nina seized the heart and tore it from the corpse’s chest, then dropped the body and stood once more, holding up the steaming heart before the crowd.

“Further! Further! Further!”

As if they had to tell her. As if she could have resisted in that moment. Nina bit into the heart, unable to keep from moaning as the hot blood gushed into her mouth. The crowd was going mad around her, but Nina barely noticed them, deep as she was in the taste and pleasure of it. She took another bite, well aware that she must be covered in blood but utterly beyond caring. Zero was already lost in bliss. Nina swallowed, then finally tore herself away from the heart to look at the audience again. They were shouting, clapping, chanting, stamping; they were out of control. They were hers.

Nina drew herself to her full height and took a deep breath, then roared to them:

“WHO IS YOUR GOD TONIGHT?”

And the crowd roared back:

“TAUHRELIL! TAUHRELIL! TAUHRELIL!”

[bcllvtrix]

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