❝What is that song you
sing for the dead?❞
Born a sinner, Lucien Aliester King can talk to the dead. With the reappearance of Death Eaters and the approaching start of another wizarding war, Lucien is torn between venturing i...
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｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
LUCIEN KNEW HE WAS IN DEEP SHIT. SNAPE'S NAILS DIGGING INTO HIS SHOULDERS; HE STOOD IN FRONT OF THE DARK LORD, having the faintest idea of what was waiting for him.
The room held many secrets, but Lucien knew his was no longer one. His sleeves were pulled up; revealing his arms, the Dark Mark and his body rejecting it. He heard a few snicker at the sight, they quickly fell into a tense silence when Voldemort crept over towards the boy. His eyes twitched at the man's sudden movements; and realized he was not the only one drowning in an overflowing river of atrocity as his Potions professor tensed, his grip on Lucien's shoulder hardening.
The Dark Lord's sickeningly light skin contrasted the dark walls of the building they occupied; his followers growing weaker as the man passed them by, carrying the darkness with him like a crown he proudly wore. It almost impressed Lucien; that Voldemort didn't seem mad even if he most likely was, he only appeared to all-but-lost to his bloodlust.
He seemed more collected than every other person in the place while managing to be the most deranged out of them all. The man who once used to be a brilliant wizard named Tom Riddle had almost achieved what he always wanted; his brief victory a distaste in his tongue as the man tried endlessly to roll back into his desired state of mind. His ideal world not yet reached; but the power he always craved, he had taken.
Tugging at his followers' hypothetical collars, he ruled every single person in that room; acted as though he owned their lives, and frankly he did. Lucien was one of those pour souls; currently in a position far worse than others and left wondering what he would do the wicked man standing in front of him if he possessed such enormous power and knowledge. Lucien studied their leader, lack of any emotions on the Dark Lord's face only a messenger of what he had in store for the King boy.
Alerted by the black veins in the boy's arms that Everett's son had kept his powers a secret from him; Voldemort wouldn't let the young boy dare to hide anything from him, ever again. It was only a matter of how, and Lucien dreaded the answer.
"Isn't this interesting, Severus?" Voldemort yanked Lucien out of Snape's hold; grabbing the boy's wrist, putting on too much pressure. Lucien howled in pain as he was brought down to his knees, his arm already hurting; the Dark Lord's sinister touch had made it even harder to endure. "Reminds me of an old friend."
