Disclaimer: JK Rowling and Joss Whedon made the toys, I'm just playing in their back yards.
Title: Broken Queen, part i.
Warnings: Character death, femmeslash, violence, bad language, that's about it. Now.
Rating: Don'tShowTheKiddies? I'd say PG13, but I said that of Lady, too, and FF.net booted it right off. [shrug]
Summary: Second chance doesn't always mean redemption.
"I know what you are."
Narcissa ignores her, drawing the comb through her white-gold hair and counting softly under her breath. Does it count as adultery when she feels as though she is
you as much as she isn't? Does she even care? Tomorrow, Draco will receive the Mark. Narcissa doesn't have time for this any more. Their liaisons over the years have never amounted to anything, and now more than ever she needs her focus. Darla…is not very good company when you need to concentrate.
"My beautiful, broken queen," Darla purrs in her ear. Narcissa doesn't acknowledge the proximity.
"I don't have time for this."
"You don't even know what 'this' is." Darla sounds bored, and Narcissa knows a bored Darla is a dangerous Darla -- but she's never been able to resist pushing her luck.
"Tell me, then, o great and wise one." She hopes the sarcasm is as biting -- excuse the pun -- aloud as it was in her head.
"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head over it, Cissa," Darla waves a hand dismissively from her precarious perch on the vanity, deliberately mimicking Lucius's 'Speaking To Narcissa' tone. Bitch,
Narcissa thinks, and means it.
Darla laughs, as if she read her mind. Impossible, she's fairly sure, but her facial expression no doubt gave her away. "Poor, pretty Cissa, locked up in her gilded cage…" She sing-songs, sounding more like her mad accomplice than herself. "…you could've been great."
"As what? Your whore?" Narcissa's lip curls -- and then splits, Darla is so much stronger than she looks. She pushes herself up, where she lies on the ground, glaring at the smaller woman.
"You could've been great," Darla repeats, standing.
"And yet here you are, Lucius Malfoy's silly little trophy wife -- a rich man's plaything
Narcissa casts about for something appropriately witty and cutting. "Fuck you." Stupid American muggle
vampiress ruining her vocabulary.
"I thought we did that already, princess." Darla's laughing at her, behind those wicked eyes of hers, and she knows it.
"If you think so low of me--"
"She says, lying on the ground."
"--then why are you still here?"
Darla kneels, tracing a fingertip under Narcissa's jaw. "My boy, my darling boy, he has this thing he does." Here we bloody go. Angelus this, Angelus fucking that.
Narcissa freezes. "I was under the impression he was on something of a redemption kick."
Darla's face shifts -- Narcissa's seen it before, but suddenly she's very, very worried. "Redemption is…not quite what I had in mind."
And it's hot and it's cold and all she can feel is Darla and God she's drowning, she's slipping, she's going to fall
"I don't share
." Darla's voice is so far away.
Narcissa's cold when she wakes.
The clock says 'dinner', when it ought to say 'too late', but she doesn't argue with it, because she's hungry.
And besides, it's a damn clock
; she's not going to shout at it.
She can hear little hearts beating too fast, too
fast, but she's not eating house-elf. She has too much self-respect for that. She can hear Draco in another room -- with his father. Do they know, she wonders…Lucius wasn't going to be back until the evening, and Draco never set foot in the master suite, on pain of…well, seeing his mother nude.
"Hello, my darlings."
She wonders how she looks to them, as they stare at her. Can they tell, she wonders…can they see it in her?
"Mother?" Draco…her dear son. Turn him, make a meal of him, let him watch his father die…? She can't decide, so ignores him, turning her attention to her beloved
-- no, really -- husband.
"Narcissa, are you all right?" Lucius looks concerned. "You look…"
"Different, darling?" she walks -- no, she sashays
into the room, grey eyes wide with innocence as feigned as the sweet tone of her voice. "I can't possibly imagine why."
"She was here." His voice is flat, and his eyes know too much. She wants to laugh at him, but she doesn't, not yet. "What did you do, Narcissa?"
The force of the blow drives him to his knees. "Something I should have done a long time ago."
Draco is shouting and Lucius is bleeding and it is glorious