#rod 002

@viciousvisage

“Stay with me, Kitten… stay with me.”

Heartbeat punching at his ribs like a mallet to concrete, he could feel the fissures spread with every impact. It went against every instinct to run. She was hurt. They had hurt her. She was his and they had hurt her, and they had to pay. He had to kill them. His mouth was dry and the only thing that would gratify his demanding need for vengeance was the taste of their blood, the sound of their screams, their slow and painful deaths. 

But he couldn’t stop. Fenrir ran faster than he’d ever run, bounding between trees, dodging low hanging branches, legs eating up miles at a time, and he couldn’t stop. Not when he could feel her heartbeat slowing as his sprinted faster than his feet were carrying him through the forest. Fenrir knew that if he satisfied that need to dismember the deadmen who’d hurt her, he could lose her. 

“I’m here. I got you. Just stay with me.”

Heart racing so fast he could feel its throttle in his throat, could hear it in his ears, louder than his breathing, louder than roaring, primordial instinct, Fenrir knew only one thing. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t fucking lose her. 

“You’re going to be okay, Kitten. Do you hear me? Look at me. You’re going to be okay.”

His whole life had been shit, and violence, and death since the moment he was turned. Every day had been a fight for survival, to be whatever kind of monster he had to be to live, to never be the victim but a hunter to the very end. He was the apex predator he was today because he had suffered, and bled, and endured until he was strong enough to obliterate every threat that had gotten in his way. 

“Look at me. Just look at me. Don’t you dare close your eyes. Do you hear me, Arielle. Fucking look at me.”

Until her. Until this little kitten of a witch had marched into his life and demanded his help with a reckless kind of bravery that had gotten plenty of people killed before her. She came into his life like the sun dawning after a brutal, deadly winter, and for the first time in his life he had felt its warmth. Her warmth. And she was dying in his arms. 

“Hang on. Just a little longer, Kitten. Stay with me.”

Another bestial roar thundered from his chest and his pace redoubled. He imagined familiar marble floors, gilded paintings, busts of old wizards on granite pedestals. Fenrir clawed for the one place he knew was safe, where he knew someone would be able to help her, that belonged to the only thing resembling family he’d ever known. Not slowing his pace, a bodiless hook snagged around his middle and yanked, and Fenrir stumbled, still running, through the Lestrange foyer, ageless ceramic crashing as he skid to a stop.

@viciousvisage

Chin perched on the cradle of her interlaced fingers, Bellatrix arched an eyebrow as she listened to Antonin “Dol Face” Dolohov regale the wedding party with yet another tale of misadventure from his and Gus’ youth, with a younger Rodolphus taking charge as he always did and always would. She had heard the story before, of course. Had demanded Dolly tell it when her attempts to recite the event simply didn’t do the memory justice. For whatever reason, hearing it again now filled her with a special kind of joy. 

Her emerald gaze slid onto Rodolphus beside her and the subtle upturn of her lips turned feline as she observed him. Merlin, he was perfect. And all hers. Her husband. She was all the more aware of the weight on her finger, the heavy ring that encircled it, beautiful and glittering, as good as a crown. 

Bella lifted her chin from her fingers, her elbows from the table, and leaned into her husband’s side to murmur in his ear. “Brains and brawn, I knew I married you for a reason.” She lifted delicate fingers to his jaw and pulled his cheek to her lips, pressing a kiss onto his stubbled face, another onto the corner of his mouth, before her touch urged him to face her so she could kiss him on the lips, smiling into the affection, her blood cells alight with joy. 

When she pulled back again, Bellatrix bumped the tip of her nose to his and purred, “Aside from you being an incredible lay, that is. You’re not going to make me wait for you to ravish me, are you?” Her bottom lip jutted out into a playful pout. She leaned in again to nuzzle her way to his ear, murmuring, “Don’t you want to see what’s waiting for you under this dress?” and kissed the soft spot under his ear before pulling back again. 

They couldn’t leave just yet. The reception had only just started and there were expectations for them to fulfil before it was polite for them to disappear into the shadows and consummate what had been true the moment they laid eyes on each other. She was his, he was hers, as true as gravity and as lasting as time. But that didn’t mean that they had to stay cooped up in here. 

@viciousvisage

A protesting house elf was kicked aside as Fenrir barged into the uninhabited --yet exquisitely furnished-- Lestrange estate. The high pitched, pathetic looking creature insisted that his master hadn’t arrived just yet. Any exhortance that Fenrir wait in the foyer for his master’s arrival was ignored, as was the pitiful varmint weaving between his legs as he strode through the manor in the direction of Rodolphus’s study.

When the little beast, that stood not much taller than his knee, tried to stand between him and the study, Fenrir’s large hand gripped the elf by his round head and lifted him up off of the ground. A snarl curled his top lip as he brought the elf up to his face and growled low in his throat. The tiny wretch curled in on himself, bringing his knees to his chest and covering his bulbous eyes as he cowered from the werewolf holding him aloft by the top of his head.

Fenrir huffed an unimpressed breath, unmoved by the small creature’s quailing, before turning his body to face the long corridor they’d trekked down. Elf still in hand, he pulled his arm back and poured a considerable amount of strength into the throw when he hurled the little beast, sending him flying through the manor with a shrieked, “AAaaaahhhh,” that faded the further he flew. A painting fell off of the wall upon impact, both plummeting to the ground in a clamor.

Path before him now clear, Fenrir ripped the door open and stepped inside of the study. It slammed shut again behind him once he was over the threshold. He cut across the luxurious room, stalking down the wet bar for a glass of the whiskey that Rodolphus kept on hand. He filled a cup and took the decanter with him toward the wizard’s desk.