Of Death and Fire

name


Author's notes and warning: Death, torture, sexual content, although nothing graphic. Don't Read if it offends you.
 
CHAPTER 35: Hallowed be thy Name.
They apparated at an open field, much to Morgaine's surprise. She had been expecting the dark, gloomy crypt she had seen in Severus' mind. On closer inspection, this new environment was just as creepy. It was an abandoned graveyard, the ground littered with the broken remains of tombstones and sculptures. In the back, she could see the dark skeleton of a burned church. As the other Death Eaters apparated one by one, Morgaine tried tot to chucklecturcturing herself as a heroine of a Hammer horror movie. She saw Snape among the rest, taking his place in the circle they were forming. He graced her with a fast poisonous stare, seeing her still in Malfoy's arms. And her unnatural urge to burst to hysterical laughter grew more demanding.
And then there was a change in the air, as if a portal was opened, andgaingaine's giggles were drowned in her throat. A dark, skinny figure materialised among them.
Lord Voldemort.
Everyone dropped on their knees. Well, not everyone. Morgaine stood frozen, staring at the creature that had been haunting everyone's sleep since she could remember herself. He threw back his hood and she saw an inhuman face, dramatically different from the one she had seen in her out-of-body experience. His eyes were round, crimson like fire and reptilian like the rest of his features, including the flat nose. She remained motionless, magnetised by the movements of his long, pale fingers.
She had been caught in his spell on first sight. Like a snake, he had mesmerised her, as he had done countless times before.
On his knees beside her, Malfoy elbowed her, trying to get her to kneel. She kicked him and stabbed his hand with her heel, but he never dared to scream. A few feet away, Snape was furious by her defiant behaviour.
Stubborn witch! I told you to show some humility. In the slight chance we'll get out of this alive, I'll kill you myself, he thought, as images of slow strangulation crossed his mind.
Voldemort fixed his eyes on the creature that dared to defy him. As she threw back her hood, he met for the first time the eyes of the woman who had given him unwillingly the ritual of his return. He was pleased she did not kneel before hike tke the others. This would be contradictory to the character, as his servants had reported to him, describing her as stubborn and strong-willed. Any other response from her would have been suspicious. And he would have hated to kill her on first sight. He raised a pale hand and waved at her.
Morgaine's body complied with his command as if having a will of its own. She found herself walking at him, lost in his strange eyes. She felt the urgeurniurning; the urge she had felt before in her dream, to fall on her knees and worship him, kissing the ground he was standing on. But the moment came to pass and she stood before him, having regained partial control of her will. He tod hed her cheek and his long, white finger moved to her neck, caressing the crescent-shaped scar on the skin. Triggered by his touch, the darkness was released and it begun to ooze from the tiny mark like droplets of black bile.
"Fascinating," he whispered. "What shall I do with you?" he asked. "Kill you or keep you?"
Morgaine closed her eyes, feeling the evil part of her soul ascending. She tried to hold back to reality, recalling everything she loved: her brother, Severus, Albus, even Aurion, hoping he was watching after her beyond the grave. But every face was overshadowed by his entrancing stare. She opened her eyes again and faced him.
"Kill me or keep me; I'm yours to do as you will," she whispered. At that moment, she meant it with all her heart. She moved her fingers to her cloak, untying the cord and letting it fall on the ground. She stood before him beautiful and dark as the night, clad in a black silk dress that caressed her body like the night breeze.
In the back, Snape, completely unaware of the darkness that had risen inside her soul, was getting angrier. This dress had been his gift to her.
She's wearing that? She went to Malfoy Manor wearing that? Forget strangulation, it's much too merciful. Chained on my dungeon wall sounds perfect: the slow torture of thirst, starvation and anal intercourse.
In the middle of the circle, Voldemort took her hand.
"Walk with me," he hissed.
Together they walked slowlsideside the circle of the kneeling Death Eaters. Sometimes he spoke, sometimes he complimented and at other times he spat "Crucio", causing a body to twist and shake in waves of unspeakable pain. Finally, they stood before Malfoy. Morgaine could smell his sweat; she could small his fear. The Dark Lord stood silent for a moment.
"Malfoy," he said in a velvet tone. "I understand it's partly your responsibility that this creature stands among us tonight." Malfoy's shoulders straightened up a little, a sign that part of his fear had been lifted. Voldemort turned to Morgaine. "Has he been of service to you, my dear? Has he pleased you? Should I reward or punish him?"
Morgaine stared for a moment at his bright eyes, aware she was being tested. She looked at Malfoy on the ground before her, trying not to shake.
"He has been ...adequate," she replied smiling. "I see no reason for a reward, though. He had his pleasure in the process. And I see no reason for punishment either. But," she whispered, caressing the long fingers that held his wand, "if you believe that some punishment is in order, please, let me do it."
The Dark Lord grinned at her response. She had passed the test. For now. And then he turned his attention to another man, a few feet away.
"Severus," he hissed. "I'm glad you have recovered so fast after our last meeting," he mocked him. "I trust you have brought the potion you have promised me?"
"No, my Lord, I haven't," he replied in a trembling voice. "It has not properly brewed yet," he added anacedaced himself for the curse he knew that would follow. They had agreed to delay giving him the potion until he could find a way to counter effect its powers. But at this moment it all felt meaningless. Voldemort would see through their bluff.
"I am displeased," he said in a grim voice.
Morgaine raised her hand and touched his arm.
"The Potions Master is not as resourceful as he believes himself, my Lord," she said smiling. "He failed to acknowledge the fact that I'm half-elf and not pure-blood. It you must punish him for his lack of wits, please, do so. But if stupidity was a reason for 'Cruciatus', I'm surprised Crabbe and Goyle have survived that long."
Voldemort appeared rather amused by her remark. So, she still loves him, he thought. But he decided to play along.
"You have a point there, my dear," he replied. "I might not kill you, after all. I think I'll keep you, for the moment. What do you say on this, Ivan? Should I let her live?"
The man next to Snape raised his head.
"Kill her, Master! She's dangerous, not to be trusted!"
Nakaroff! A member of the Inner Circle, a Death Eater? Why hadn't I seen that before? Morgaine felt light-headed.
"Is this so?" said Voldemort again, clearly amused.
"Yes!" He stood up. "Let me do it, Master. Let me cut her up, like I sliced her mother. Let me taste her blood," he hissed, lust echoing in his voice.
Morgaine felt the darkness overwhelming her.
"It was you?" she cried, unable to control herself. "That was you, filthy serpent? Oh, Nakaroff, you were not as efficient as you had hoped," she hissed. Behind her Voldemort laughed, seeing them ready to rip each other's throat. "You left her alive just enough to give birth to me. And now you'll pay," she hissed.
Nakaroff took out a long blade and advanced at her. But Morgaine raised her left arm, the index and little fingers pointing at him. She invoked Death, addressing Him with one of His secret names, calling upon the Lord of Vermin. Nakaroff stopped his advance and looked at her with round, bewildered eyes, not believing what was happening. When he saw the insects eating their way out of his skin, he screamed. Moments later he was dead, his body devoured from the inside by countless insects, maggots and mice. Morgaine stood over the bloodied remains, feeling equally disgusted and exhilarated. Then she felt the Dark Lord touching her shoulder.
"Yes, I think I should keep you. And you should definitely teach me this trick of yours." She turned around and faced him. "I haven't had such entertainment for a long time," he whispered in her ear. "Has Severus told you how he and Lucius used to perform for me?" She nodded. "Will you do the same for me, my beauty?" he asked. But it was not a request. It was a command and every fibre in her body protested against it. She backed up a step.
"I will certainly not!" she cried. "Who do you think I am? A Muggle girl? A squib? Or one of your cattle here?" I'm neither of these and I will not be treated as such!"
As she stood before him, her fists clenched, her legs slightly apart, her eyes flashing with fire, he remembered. He recalled the night another human had stood before him like this, just as stubborn and defiant. I know you, he thought. Finally, we meet again. And this time I'll crush your spirit as I crushed your neck all these years before. And I will enjoy every minute of it.
"Actually, I had something different in mind, ever since Lucius coed ied in me of your unique response to the 'Cruciatus' curse." He walked behind her and put an arm around her shoulders.
"Not here," she whispered. "Not in front of everyone," she pleaded, and he was delighted in seeing her lowering her eyes.
"As you wish," he said. "McNair, Malfoy, with me," he said out loud. "The rest of you, dismissed." After a moment of hesitation, he spoke again. "Snape, you too. Follow me," he said and disaparated with Morgaine in his arms.
~*~
They materialised in more familiar surroundings. Morgaine recognised the dark mausoleum she had seen in Snape's mind. But it was darker, dustier, abandoned. The throne of skulls had almost collapsed to the ground and the stony tomb was broken in various places. She turned around and saw the three Death Eaters readying their wands. She felt Voldemort's breath on her neck, his long fingers closing around her wrists. She closed her eyes, as she heard him speak.
"Proceed," he said, but she would never know whom he was speaking to.
And then she heard Malfoy's voice cast the Unforgivable. The pain hit her in hot, brilliant shocks that travelled on her body like tidal waves. Crossing the filters of the protective tattoos on her body, the pain transformed to a slightly different, but equally agonising sensation. She felt her knees tremble and she grasped Voldemort's robe to steady herself. And then the next curse hit her and she got lost in a multitude of sensations: pain, ecstasy and lust for more.
Voldemort was highly aroused seeing her twitch and shake in his arms, finding in pain the pleasure few would dare seek. He decided to test her limits, to see how much more she would take. He waved at his followers and Snape raised his wand.
She had made him promise he would not hesitate if this were asked of him. And now he found he lacked the courage to do so. He closed his eyes, detaching his mind from his heart, knowing that if he failed it might lead to the death of the both of them. Gathering all his willpower, he cast the curse.
By the fifth time, the pleasure had vanished and everything that was left was pain. Still filtered by her protective charms, but pain non-the-less. By the eighth curse, she could barely stand. After the tenth time, she had collapsed on her knees, unable to move, with blood running down her nose. As McNair raised his wand for another hit, Voldemort stopped him with a wave of his hand. And Snape finally breathed in relief.
It was over.
"Leave us! All of you!" hissed the Dark Lord. They all bowed and disaparated, Snape keeping his eyes on semi-conscious Morgaine a moment too long before departing. And this didn't go unnoticed. He loves her too, he thought. Excellent!
He pulled up Morgaine, forcing her to stand. She was an extraordinary creature. He had seen stronger men cry like babies and loose their sanity after the second curse and she had survived no less than ten. She tied her arms around his skinny body, trying to steady herself and he realised with amusement he was aroused. This had not happen in years, and he was thrilled by the sensation. He lifted her chin and forced her to face him. His hypnotic gaze caught her will once more and his voice whispered in her soul dreams of grandeur and promises of the power of a demigod, if she would walk with him.
She fell to her knees, knowing it was all illusion. It was all deceit. But it felt good... What harm could it do, if she would surrender to this dream for a while? Just for a while? She closed her eyes and heard him reaching inside his robes, touching himself. And still, she did not move, lost in the frail illusion of his evil mind.
And when she felt his semen sprinkling her face, it burned her more than any Dark Mark would.
 
 ***********************************************************************************************************************************************
 
Well? Any chance of a review now?