|I, His Most Loved
Author: PristinelyUngifted PM
The Dementors put lies in Bella's mind. Or maybe she was lying to herself all along. Written for Challenge One of Round Two of harrypotter las . Prompt: "Lies we tell ourselves." Voldemort/BellatrixRated: Fiction K+ - English - Drama/Horror - Voldemort & Bellatrix L. - Words: 416 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 2 - Published: 05-28-11 - Status: Complete - id: 7029542
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Written for Challenge One of Round Two of harrypotter_las. It got two votes for best fic of the challenge, and one vote for worst fic of the challenge, which I think is kind of funny. The prompt was "Lies we tell ourselves."
Title: I, His Most Loved
Author: pristineungift / PristinelyUngifted
Fandom: Harry Potter
Warnings: Mildly disturbing imagery.
Summary: The Dementors put lies in Bella's mind. Or maybe she was lying to herself all along. Prompt: Lies we tell ourselves. Voldemort/Bellatrix Lestrange
I, His Most Loved
Bella rocked, twisting her prison issue robes in her hands. If they could be called robes. More like sacks, coarse and ugly.
Like her captors.
"Alive, alive," she whispered to herself, tracing a nail over the faded image of the Dark Mark on her left arm. "Returning to me, coming for me. I, his most faithful. I, his most loved."
Her beautiful Lord Voldemort, his grand vision. Not gone. Not lost.
A Dementor glided to the barred window of her cell door, the rattle of its breath raising gooseflesh on the back of Bella's neck as it sucked the small happiness of her thoughts away.
Wide eyed, a sneer upon her lips, she scrabbled back, hoping to avoid it, hoping this time she would not see.
But she could not stop it, the vision the Dementors invoked. Could not stop the scene she had lived a thousand times, if only in her own mind.
A flash of green, the clatter of a wand on wood. The Dark Lord, falling, fallen.
He looked much smaller with the light gone from his eyes. Seemed much lighter when the sinewy strength left his frame.
Shaking herself, Bella screamed, a mad wail, a vehement denial. She turned back to her faded Dark Mark, tracing it once more with untrimmed nails that reddened the flesh around the brand.
His brand. His Mark.
"Alive, alive," she hissed against the visions the Dementors brought. "Coming for me. Our savior. Our lord. Mylord."
Back and forth she rocked, moving away from the door and the Dementors that waited beyond it.
"Coming for me. To save me. To save us all. He loves me best," she told the Mark. "He loves me best."
The Dementor at the door turned from her, the movement catching her eye. Bella looked up, watching it go.
"He loves me."
The walls of her cell absorbed the sound of her hissed declaration.
Just as they always did.