𝖠𝖱𝖱𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖤𝖣 | 𝖥𝖱𝖤𝖣 𝖶𝖤𝖠𝖲𝖫𝖤𝖸

𝐋𝐕𝐈𝐈

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐘

_____________

"How could Circe betray me?" Voldemort spat in a whisper, making everyone in the room shiver. His cold presence was overwhelming, his stare was deadly and, even though he was weaker than usual, his only voice terrified everyone in the room.

"She chose the filthy traitor of her daughter, my Lord," Yaxley intervened.

Voldemort's expression became even darker.

"I SHOULD BE HER PRIORITY," he demanded, "I. NOT THAT CREATURE."

The silence flooded the room, only being interrupted by Nagini's hissing.

"I want her to pay for it," Voldemort started again, "I want her and her disgusting half-blood daughter to pay with their lives for betraying me."

"Allow me to do it, my Lord," Ares Arambella intervened. He wasn't very fond of Voldemort to be quite exact, he wasn't very fond of any wizard that possessed what he desired the most in the world. It flooded his veins with the most poisonous envy he had ever felt. But he wanted to be the one burying Circe and that mistake his ex-wife called 'daughter'. "Nothing will give me more honour than being the one killing them. I would finally prove to you how loyal I am to your cause."

Nowadays, Arambella could say he had liked Circe in the past. Her beauty had a dark aura incredibly attractive and, although he hated Lilith with all his guts, he had genuinely enjoyed making her. However, not even the good memories he had with Circe before destroying her were enough for him to forget she was the descendant of the witch who cursed his family, depriving him of the magic that was his by right.

 He never tried to love Circe, it would have made his plan even more complicated, but the fact that he could have the chance to kill her made their story, to his eyes, poetic. He intended to kill Lilith fast, that creature might be his blood but he didn't care enough about her to give her any more attention. But he was definitely going to take his time with Circe. Who knows? Maybe he would gift her a last fuck before sending her back to the hell where she belonged.

Twisted.

Voldemort didn't intend to give Ares any kind of magic whatsoever. First of all, because he didn't know how to, and second of all, because if he did, he wouldn't waste their most precious gift with a Squib. He had only used him to punish Circe and to do so, he was still going to use him and manipulate him until he was no longer useful.

However, who was more of a backstabber? The Dark Lord that planned to betray his vassal? Or the vassal that was planning to take the Dark Lord's place once magic ran in his veins?

"So be it, Arambella. If you want to have the gift of magic in your blood, I want your ex-wife and your daughter's heads on a silver platter before the summer arrives," Voldemort sentenced, "If not, you will be the one paying for their crimes."

Instead of gulping, as the other Death Eaters would have done, Arambella smirked.

"As you wish, my Lord."

"Before you do anything, I want to hear the prophecy. I desire to know what other threats are hiding from us considering you haven't found the Potter boy and my wand yet."

More silence. 

"Bella," Voldemort redirected his attention to the woman. She had not opened her mouth once, thinking about Circe's betrayal and feeling it in her bones. Will the chance present itself in front of her, Bellatrix was going to murder Circe. Fuck Arambella and his mudblood desires. Bellatrix deserved to be the one making Circe pay for backstabbing her after everything she had done for her. "Where's the diviner?"