The battlefield was a storm of chaos and flickering green light, screams and spells echoing in the air like a macabre symphony. Dust and smoke filled the atmosphere, thick with the smell of destruction. In the midst of it all, the world seemed to narrow to a single confrontation - the Dark Lord himself stood tall, his pale, serpentine face twisted into a chilling sneer.

Mattheo stood in front of you, his body a tense shield between you and his father. His wand trembled slightly in his grip, but his voice was steady and defiant. "Let her go, Father."

V0ldemort tilted his head, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. His long fingers flexed around his wand. "I don't care who dies in this battle, Mattheo. But since you care so much..." He let his words hang in the air like a noose tightening around your throats. His gaze flicked to you, where you stood trembling and clutching your swollen belly. "Indulge me."

You choked back a sob, tears spilling down your cheeks as you clung to the remnants of hope. "Please..." you whispered.

V0ldemort’s lips curled into a sinister smile. "And I just might spare the mother of your child."

Mattheo’s breath hitched audibly. He turned to glance at you for the briefest moment, his dark eyes burning with a desperate mixture of fear and love. Then, he faced his father again, his jaw tight and his voice a growl. "Let her go."

V0ldemort’s laughter was cold and hollow. "Kneel," he commanded.

Mattheo’s knuckles whitened around his wand. "Let her go!" he roared, his voice cracking with fury and anguish.

V0ldemort’s expression did not waver, his tone unchanged. "Get on your knees, Mattheo."

Then, he fell to his knees before his father, the defiance still burning in his eyes even as he lowered himself to the ground. “Let her go,” he repeated, his voice quieter but no less fierce.

V0ldemort smiled, his triumph chilling in its cruelty. "Now, we’ll see just how far you’re willing to fall for your weakness, my son."