"If we were the only two in the world, you wouldn't kill me;
If there are many enemies in the world, you cannot kill me. "
My? Moonlight? Was? Born? At? The? End? Of? December,? Covered? With? Frost? And? Snow.
My dear, you deserve to be crowned.
The blood of my heart irrigates our roses, and the bones of the rebels are fresh fertilizer. I will spread the bones as a carpet for you to sit on the throne, and the hands stained with blood are our common proof.
The snowy night in December witnessed the birth of sin and lies, fear and persecution planted the seeds of darkness, and the burning wardrobe became the source of evil and hope. Dark green fog rises, and Slytherin's road to the throne is forever riddled with thorns.
When killing becomes a thing of the past, a smile becomes a mask, the prostrate dignitaries at the corners of their robes are reflected in their blood-red pupils, and thick black ink marks rise into the boundless sky. The curtain of darkness falls, and the yew tree will finally bring the master of the times.
Intention: new possibilities