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of cutthroat ilk

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There was once a man who would have been King, born into one of the oldest families in England. He had everything he could have wanted--a name that struck fear into the heart of his enemies, a young wife, a future as a leader. All he needed now was some sons; an heir and a spare, possibly or a son and daughter, one to continue the name and other to multiply and prosper, continue the bloodline. Tojours Pur. Everything is pure.

It is good to remember, though, that this isn't a fairy-tale and no one gets what they want. A man that would be king was no exception.



The first daughter fights her way into the world, kicking and screaming and mewling from the darkness. She makes a racket for the next two years, a petulant child that doesn't play well with others. They call her Bellatrix--the female warrior, the amazon star, because although she isn't the son that he wanted, he can craft into something much more dangerous.

Bellatrix grows up beautiful, her features a perfect echo of her father, a hard jaw and nose, cheekbones that could cut ice and eyes that burn with the might of a thousand stars. Her hair is like her family, dark and tumbling, and she moves with a sinuous energy that entrances everyone that surrounds her, drawing out the eye, even when it has no time for you. To say Bellatrix is a femme fatale would be a disservice, Bellatrix Black (no one but her enemies called her Madame Lestrange) is a force nature, a whirlwind, a tidal wave, a tsunami of rage and fury and power.

Quick, look away, that's the mad one.

Bellatrix is a weapon, like firing a loaded gun into a crowd--it is impossible to know how she will hit, or what damage she will bring, but one thing is certain; no one should get in her way, for fear of evisceration.



The second daughter is born backwards, breached. She holds the fury that her older sister held but displays it in different way--whilst Bellatrix would scream and scream and scream for hours, Andromeda (named after the chained woman, queen of Ethiopia) spend hours pulling at the bars of her crib, as if she was figuring how to escape. She does escape, in the end, one way or another.

Andromeda echoes her sister in looks as well, but with less of her father's sharpness. Where Bellatrix is his mirror, Andromeda is her opposite, holding them both in perfect symmetrical parallel. To an untrained eye, they will be easily confused, but later when she wants to dissociate herself from her monstrous family, she will cut her hair short to avoid such confusion again. She is a disappointment to her father, who had wished for a son like Sirius, or another daughter made of stars like her sister. A would-be King can forget that whilst Bellatrix is a star, Andromeda is a constellation. She burns.

Quick, look away, that's the sad one.

Andromeda is a weapon, like a animal backed into a corner--you can tell that she doesn't want to be there, but you know that one misstep and she'll break your arm (or worse, much worse).



The final daughter comes quietly, so quietly that they think she's died. She is pale and cold and small, and her mother looks away and even the quasi-King looks grave at the thought of such a small creature being stolen before she can steal breath--but then she is awake, blue skin turning pink. Narcissa doesn't scream like her sisters, those stars, but instead Narcissa the flower, Narcissus who fell in love with his own reflection, sits in silence, as if she is deep in thought.

Unlike her dark sisters who lived up their family name, Narcissa is light; her hair, her eyes, her skin. Her wrists her thin and they treat her like she is made of glass, as if she would shatter at a touch too harsh. Even Bellatrix, who wrestles her cousins, looks after her darling sister with adoration that she shows to nothing else. That is why Narcissa inspires, a devotion, a need, an urge to protect that makes her powerful. Her father is proud, their mother more so, Narcissa is a perfect society woman and to tear them down with her teeth if she needs to, and she is a Black, later a Malfoy. She will need to.

Quick, look away, that's the cold one.

Narcissa is a weapon, like a perfect foxglove--light petals, easy on any eye, delicate looking, but only those with previous experience understand that she is poisonous to the touch, and sturdier than could be imagined.



Cygnus Black was not a King. He has no sons, only daughters (only two now, careful), his name no longer strikes fear in his enemies, his wife ages and his power depletes. His name will die, his House dies, his house dies. Everything turns to ash. Except them. The daughters he never wanted will never be forgotten.

The Female Warrior.
(the last best lieutenant)

The Chained Woman.
(mother to heroes)

The Narcissus.
(the liar that saved the world)

Bellatrix. Andromeda. Narcissa. Sisters Black.