Title: A Mother’s Duty
Author: Lucia de’Medici
Prompt: For![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
excentryke - Narcissa, dagger
Wordcount: 667
Rating: PG13
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A Mother’s Duty
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“There, my dear. Are you comfortable?”
“Yes, Lucius.” A simple enough reply, a small smile to mask the grimace of pain as he stood at the foot of her bed and conducted the house elves to fluff her pillows, arrange her bedding – make her more “comfortable.”
A likely ruse should someone come to call on the expectant mother.
“I shall be at the Ministry. Send word through Dobby should there be any change. He shall see to you until then.”
“Yes, Lucius.”
Her cheeks were beginning to ache from where she kept the smile hitched at precisely the right angle to prevent any suspicion.
“Good.” He smiled benevolently, and moved to rest a hand on her enormous belly with a touch so feather light, that she nearly flinched at the deceptive sincerity of the gesture.
But she did not.
“I trust you will not leave this room until my return. It would be unwise to risk our first-born at such a precarious hour, Narcissa. See to it that you are well-rested.”
“I shall, my dear,” she replied with a demure nod of her head.
“Your priorities have finally fallen into place, I see.” Her husband appraised her silently, and Narcissa fought to not claw out the bastard’s eyes. “Nonetheless,” he continued, “I shall lock the door – for your protection, you understand.”
She did not deign to respond.
With a swirl of his travelling cloak – the master of Malfoy Manor swept from her chambers, and Narcissa was left alone and quite incapable of escape.
“M-mistress?”
Narcissa continued to glare at the heavy mahogany door as from the outside, several spells moved the latches and ground the old brass into place, barring any possibility of escape.
In her condition, it would be foolish to think she could shimmy out the window and down the drainpipe.
“Dobby,” she said simply without looking at the elf. “Fetch me the blade.”
“M-mistress, Dobby lives to serve his m-masters. Dobby must not h-harm his masters!”
“You’ll do no such thing, but as you are bound to me, you will do as I say. Fetch the blade.”
With a whimper and a crack, the house elf vanished and then reappeared promptly by her bedside with the instrument to her ends. She looked to the silver dagger in its sheath with disdain before plucking it deftly from its rest on the satin pillow, which Dobby held aloft.
“Leave me,” she commanded sternly. “Punish yourself thoroughly for questioning your master, elf.”
With a muffled wail, her servant disappeared once again.
Examining the fine carvings on its handle – engraved in the old language of Gaul, Narcissa pulled the knife from it’s casing and marvelled at the sterling glint of its edge.
She would usurp Lucius without his knowing; destroying the very life he planned to mould to his own – the child growing in her belly. With any luck, she would destroy herself in the process – and Lucius would need to begin anew, finding someone else to manipulate to his own ends.
Narcissa Black was no meagre vessel, not a pawn, nor a marionette wife.
The Dark Lord would be furious – she smiled to herself bitterly. If her life was the price of her revenge, so be it.
With that, she raised the dagger over her breast and shut her eyes tightly – readying herself for the blow.
It was then that she felt it.
She peeked open an eye.
And there it was again!
Her arms sagged in disbelief before she threw the weapon across the room so that it struck the lintel of the hearth and stuck in the old mortar.
The child – her child – was kicking her as if to make a muffled protestation from her womb!
She gasped and clutched at her belly, a tear sliding over her cheek, as she croaked the words, “Dobby! Call the midwife!”
Author: Lucia de’Medici
Prompt: For
excentryke - Narcissa, dagger Wordcount: 667
Rating: PG13
A Mother’s Duty
---
“There, my dear. Are you comfortable?”
“Yes, Lucius.” A simple enough reply, a small smile to mask the grimace of pain as he stood at the foot of her bed and conducted the house elves to fluff her pillows, arrange her bedding – make her more “comfortable.”
A likely ruse should someone come to call on the expectant mother.
“I shall be at the Ministry. Send word through Dobby should there be any change. He shall see to you until then.”
“Yes, Lucius.”
Her cheeks were beginning to ache from where she kept the smile hitched at precisely the right angle to prevent any suspicion.
“Good.” He smiled benevolently, and moved to rest a hand on her enormous belly with a touch so feather light, that she nearly flinched at the deceptive sincerity of the gesture.
But she did not.
“I trust you will not leave this room until my return. It would be unwise to risk our first-born at such a precarious hour, Narcissa. See to it that you are well-rested.”
“I shall, my dear,” she replied with a demure nod of her head.
“Your priorities have finally fallen into place, I see.” Her husband appraised her silently, and Narcissa fought to not claw out the bastard’s eyes. “Nonetheless,” he continued, “I shall lock the door – for your protection, you understand.”
She did not deign to respond.
With a swirl of his travelling cloak – the master of Malfoy Manor swept from her chambers, and Narcissa was left alone and quite incapable of escape.
“M-mistress?”
Narcissa continued to glare at the heavy mahogany door as from the outside, several spells moved the latches and ground the old brass into place, barring any possibility of escape.
In her condition, it would be foolish to think she could shimmy out the window and down the drainpipe.
“Dobby,” she said simply without looking at the elf. “Fetch me the blade.”
“M-mistress, Dobby lives to serve his m-masters. Dobby must not h-harm his masters!”
“You’ll do no such thing, but as you are bound to me, you will do as I say. Fetch the blade.”
With a whimper and a crack, the house elf vanished and then reappeared promptly by her bedside with the instrument to her ends. She looked to the silver dagger in its sheath with disdain before plucking it deftly from its rest on the satin pillow, which Dobby held aloft.
“Leave me,” she commanded sternly. “Punish yourself thoroughly for questioning your master, elf.”
With a muffled wail, her servant disappeared once again.
Examining the fine carvings on its handle – engraved in the old language of Gaul, Narcissa pulled the knife from it’s casing and marvelled at the sterling glint of its edge.
She would usurp Lucius without his knowing; destroying the very life he planned to mould to his own – the child growing in her belly. With any luck, she would destroy herself in the process – and Lucius would need to begin anew, finding someone else to manipulate to his own ends.
Narcissa Black was no meagre vessel, not a pawn, nor a marionette wife.
The Dark Lord would be furious – she smiled to herself bitterly. If her life was the price of her revenge, so be it.
With that, she raised the dagger over her breast and shut her eyes tightly – readying herself for the blow.
It was then that she felt it.
She peeked open an eye.
And there it was again!
Her arms sagged in disbelief before she threw the weapon across the room so that it struck the lintel of the hearth and stuck in the old mortar.
The child – her child – was kicking her as if to make a muffled protestation from her womb!
She gasped and clutched at her belly, a tear sliding over her cheek, as she croaked the words, “Dobby! Call the midwife!”
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