Chapter Text
Regulus had always had modest expectations of life, which was rather ironic considering how astonishingly and violently his world had changed over the past year, and how spectacularly his social and political standing had improved.
Or at least, that was how everyone else saw it. For Regulus, the truth was different.
The only thing being the Crown Prince truly guaranteed him was that one day he would become King, and that prospect nourished only the ambitious, imperial part of him. Every other part suffered, sacrificed for the glorious purpose that had been chosen for him. Every burning desire had been reduced to ashes beneath the cold façade of the future King - refined, aloof, and unattainable. His softer parts belonged to the past now, imprisoned behind the steel armor encasing his heart, and Regulus waited for them to wither and die. His true nature remained hidden beneath an unyielding mask, reduced to a shameful secret and affairs buried in darkness.
He had surrendered his soul, his heart, and sometimes even his sanity. Duty was the only thing that governed his life.
So Regulus had modest expectations of life. Even smaller ones that particular morning.
The only thing he wanted after a long and exhausting diplomatic tour across the entire Kingdom was the comfort of his own bed and a quiet morning.
He was denied every fucking one of those things.
Persistent knocking just after sunrise and another body lying beside him were enough to sour his mood before he had even opened his eyes. Swallowing an irritated groan, he rolled onto his back and, without opening them, asked:
"What are you doing here?" his voice remained neutral, though he made no effort to conceal the note of displeasure coloring the end of his words.
"Keeping you company and keeping the bed warm," his lover, Theo, purred in a voice that was equal parts sleepy and seductive.
"We don't do that," Regulus sighed, his eyes still shut. His head throbbed with an exhaustion that sleep had failed to wash away. If anything, it had only made it worse. As if that were not enough, the moment he rolled his neck, he felt a knot of tangled muscles on the left side, and a sharp pain shot down his spine as he tried to stretch away the cluster of tension.
"You begged me to stay last night."
At the sound of that indulgently arrogant tone, Regulus's eyes snapped open, and he turned his head sharply toward him. The anger rushing through his veins eclipsed every trace of pain and discomfort for a fleeting moment.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, not bliss, not the lingering haze after an orgasm, not even being thoroughly fucked out of his mind, could ever leave him in a state where he would want someone invading the comfort of his bed or the vulnerability of his sleep.
Besides, Regulus Black did not beg.
Regulus narrowed his eyes, though the gesture was born entirely of irritation rather than the sudden assault of the rising sun.
"Perhaps the orgasm gave you delusions. Or perhaps you simply took advantage of the fact that I fell asleep the moment my head touched the pillow. Why? I cannot begin to fathom. That is not how things work between us, and your very presence in the Master Bedroom is already a considerable indulgence on my part," Regulus replied coolly.
The greatest trust he could offer anyone was allowing them into his private chambers, though more often than not he avoided the Master Bedroom in favor of one of the smaller rooms, rooms that bore witness only to the lustful indulgence of Regulus's deepest desires.
His bed, the silk-soft sheets, and the plush comfort of its pillows belonged to him alone.
The only person ever permitted to share Regulus's bed and lull him to sleep had been his older brother. And that had been years ago.
Now? His bed was sacred. It was the only place where he allowed himself to be soft, where he allowed himself to dream, where he let his guard down. Not entirely, of course. There was always a dagger hidden among the folds of his bedding.
Lord Nott's handsome features twisted with displeasure before he let out a sarcastic scoff "I am truly sorry I forgot to bring my special invitation into your bed."
"You would never have received one," Regulus answered flatly.
"Oh, really?" this time something ugly crept across Theo's face, utterly ruining his refined features and composed demeanor "You can pretend all you like, but I was the first thing you came running to like an eager puppy the moment you returned from your months-long journey," he spat with malicious triumph.
Regulus looked at him as though he were an idiot.
"You mean the moment I returned to my own chambers and found you already waiting for me?" he asked the question calmly, refusing to allow even a trace of emotion to seep into his voice. His expression, however, spoke for itself, especially when one brow arched in lofty skepticism, causing Theo's face to falter ever so slightly "And do remember who you're speaking to."
"The night was cold, but apparently not as cold as your heart, My Prince." Nott's voice overflowed with fervent sorrow, though his lips curled into a mocking smile.
Regulus's only response was a roll of his eyes.
Mockery and disdain made for poor smoke screens to conceal Theo's resentment, resentment that bordered dangerously on betrayal. Regulus found that particularly amusing considering that, beyond a handful of physical pleasures, there had never been anything between them. It was not a romance, and they most certainly were not exclusive.
Regulus knew better than to mix sex with feelings, and he had learned that lesson long before the burden of the Crown Prince's title had fallen upon him. Nothing good ever came of it. Nor would waste any more effort on this absurd conversation.
Before he could firmly order Nott to disappear from his sight, another knock echoed through the bedroom.
Only three people had access this deep into his private chambers, so Regulus assumed it had to be something important.
With a sigh, he slipped out from beneath the smooth sheets and crossed the room wearing nothing but his underwear. On the way, he grabbed the silk robe draped over one of the armchairs, shrugged it on, and approached the door.
On the other side stood his valet, Kreacher. His expression was neutrally polite, yet urgency flickered in his eyes, and his posture was as rigid as a drawn bowstring. Regulus knew only one person capable of having that effect on his valet.
"Yes?" Regulus asked, mirroring the same neutrality on his own face. There was no reason to take out his irritation on poor Kreacher.
"Forgive the intrusion, Your Highness, but Her Majesty the Queen has expressed a desire to visit you. Today." Kreacher bowed respectfully.
Although Regulus had expected it, he still lifted his gaze toward the ceiling and drew a deeper breath as the realization washed over him. Smoothly, he slipped into the official role of the Crown Prince - impenetrable, dependable, unreadable - before exhaling slowly through his nose. Relief never came. Instead, all he felt was a bone-deep exhaustion, but Regulus Black disappeared behind the intimidating armor of royalty "I understand. When should we expect her?"
"She is waiting downstairs, Your Highness," Kreacher replied, and sympathy flickered briefly in his eyes.
That was a very bad sign. The old man adored the Queen more than he loved this country or the entire Black bloodline.
Though not more than he loved Regulus.
"Of course she is." Regulus closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the doorframe "I'll need a few minutes."
They both knew he did not have them. If his mother was already here, then he was already late. But appearing before her late, half-dressed, and disheveled would have been such an obvious display of disrespect that it bordered on treason.
"Her Majesty will be expecting Your Highness in the Morning Room," the valet informed him with another respectful bow.
"Thank you, Kreacher."
Regulus shut the door in haste. Without sparing Theo so much as a glance, he headed for his wardrobe, where he selected one of his more formal daytime outfits: a green shirt with flowing sleeves and a black satin waistcoat, its lustrous fabric adorned around the collar and buttons with intricate silver embroidery.
He stepped back into the bedroom, fastening the buttons of his waistcoat, only to notice with mounting irritation that Nott was still sprawled naked across his bed.
Bending down, he snatched up the man's shirt and threw it straight into his face. "Get dressed. Didn't you hear that the Queen has arrived?" he hissed as he crossed the room toward the adjoining bathroom to freshen up as quickly as possible.
He would have preferred to avoid assessing his reflection in the mirror altogether, but he knew there would be no escaping his mother's scrutiny, and he would rather prepare himself for the level of dissatisfaction he was bound to see in her eyes.
His hair was in order. More than respectable, in fact. That hair product Sirius had smuggled to him (though, considering he himself was hardly welcome in their Kingdom anymore, one could argue he had smuggled both himself and the product across the border) worked absolute miracles.
He combed his refined curls back. His complexion was as pale as ever, but thanks to months spent traveling and so much time outdoors, it lacked its usual sallow cast. The exhaustion had only sharpened his high cheekbones, making them appear even more severe, which, truthfully, suited him. His only concern was the faint bruising beneath his eyes, but thanks to Pandora he had a cream for that as well, and with very little effort he restored his face to the appearance of flawless marble.
The only living thing about his features were his eyes, gleaming like liquid silver. Sharp and vigilant as ever.
Knowing he could achieve no better results in the time he had, he returned to his bedroom, where, fortunately, his beta lover was already dressed.
"Should I hide from your lovely mummy in the wardrobe?" Theo asked, choosing to grate on the last of Regulus's nerves in retaliation for the insult and dismissive treatment.
He so desperately wanted to be someone special in Regulus's life, yet Regulus could not summon the will to offer him even the faintest reassurance or even sympathy. He had been perfectly clear about the expectations surrounding their arrangement from the very beginning. It was hardly his fault the other man had caught feelings.
Besides, there was no certainty those feelings were genuine rather than a desire to bask in Regulus's royal status and the privileges attached to his position as Crown Prince.
Becoming one of the most influential figures on the political and social stage of the entire New Continent had transformed the principle of limited trust that Regulus had lived by all his life into a complete absence of trust toward anyone outside his inner circle. That circle consisted of his brother, Kreacher, and his four closest friends.
And perhaps his tailor as well, because the way this waistcoat flattered his chest and waist was nothing short of miraculous. Nott's lingering stare was merely confirmation he did not need.
"Just stay here. The servants will bring you breakfast," he informed him as he walked out of the room without looking back, though he was quite certain this would be the last intimate moment they ever shared.
Regulus had no need for a bed warmer. He certainly had no need for another inconvenience in the form of a clingy, demanding lover.
His inner Alpha remained calm and unbothered, offering him a sense of steadiness somewhere deep within his chest. Outwardly, it seemed asleep, yet its ears remained pricked in alertness in anticipation of the approaching meeting with another dominant Alpha.
He made his way through the corridors of the residence, his footsteps swallowed by the velvet carpet.
Grimmauld Place was every bit as gloomy and wealthy as the other Black estates, yet it lacked the sprawling grandeur and opulence that characterized most of the family's holdings. Despite being one of the oldest estates belonging to the House of Black, it had never served a ceremonial purpose, only a practical one. Situated in the very heart of the city, it lay only a short distance from the iron mines and the newly established steelworks - industries that were, and always would be, the Black family's legacy, independent of the Crown. Technically, the family member currently responsible for overseeing the entirety of the Black fortune ought to have lived there, but Cygnus preferred to govern from Black Manor, itself the perfect testament to the fact that the Blacks were the oldest and wealthiest family in the Kingdom of Slytherin. And even that was not their most magnificent residence.
As Crown Prince, Regulus should have been residing in the Black Palace, from which the Obsidian Castle was but a short journey once he assumed the throne. Yet for an entire year, he had managed to avoid it.
The Palace was where Sirius had spent his final days before being disowned and exiled. Its cold walls still carried echoes of his laughter, along with whispers that had nearly driven him into insanity, for the place had been filled with spies loyal to their mother. Sirius had spent two years under constant surveillance and judgment. Regulus was meant to share the same fate, condemned to endure even greater scrutiny because their family simply could not afford another scandal.
It was enough that Sirius had already been responsible for every gray hair upon the Queen's head.
Of course, Regulus had nothing against the Palace itself. It was the grandest and most magnificent residence belonging to the House of Black, built shortly after their dynasty claimed the Slytherin throne. Crafted from pearls, emeralds, ivory, marble, and crystal, it perfectly suited Regulus's refined tastes in all its breathtaking splendor.
But Grimmauld possessed a certain somber charm. It was where he had moved after graduating from Hogwarts, back when he had still been an insignificant spare heir and his parents had genuinely not cared where he lived. He had still been a Prince and could have requested a residence that would have inspired envy even among the wealthiest pure-blood nobles, but Grimmauld had been practical, situated right beside the university where he had begun his studies.
Naturally, he had never finished them. Practically overnight, he had been torn from his supporting role as little more than a fitting backdrop to his parents and brother and thrust beneath the spotlight, his head preparing for the weight of the crown while the burden of duty and expectation had already settled upon his shoulders.
Even so, Grimmauld had remained a place of comfort, and Regulus held a certain fondness for it because it reminded him of the independence and brief taste of freedom he had experienced there.
Stopping before the doors of the Morning Room, he drew a deeper breath and steeled every nerve and instinct, preparing himself for a confrontation shaped by almost intangible manipulation and that infamous mixture of contempt and condescension which came as naturally to Queen Walburga Black as breathing itself and seemed to be the resting expression of her face.
He opened the doors and stepped inside. The sight awaiting him came as no surprise whatsoever, though the blatant display of power made his inner Alpha bristle.
Rising above his mother's perfectly arranged hair was the State Diadem - a heavy platinum circlet encrusted with diamonds that glittered sharply beneath the morning sunlight like splinters of ice. The contrast with the elegant yet modest drawing room, a space that deserved to be called cozy far more than grand, was striking. It was also exceptionally bright thanks to the enormous east-facing window, making the Queen, clad in her black gown, appear as though she were absorbing some of the room's warmth and light.
The message was unmistakable. She had not come as his mother. She had come as his Sovereign. She wanted to intimidate him, though she was far too politically seasoned to wear the State Crown here, knowing it would have looked utterly grotesque.
Regulus ought to have shown proper respect to bow and greet her accordingly, but that opening power play did nothing except irritate him further instead of making her appear superior.
For one dangerous moment, he even felt his inner Sirius was showing, and it took nearly physical effort not to throw himself carelessly onto the sofa and ask her what the hell she was doing there.
"Good morning, Mother," he greeted her, settling on a compromise between what his instincts urged and what reason demanded "Would you care for some tea?" he asked as he approached the low coffee table, where a teapot and two delicate porcelain cups rested on a tray, each hand-painted and gilded around the rim.
His behavior could have been perceived as insolent or openly provocative, but every bit of it was part of a carefully calculated game. In moments like these, when Walburga seemed intent on cornering him, Regulus allowed himself a small sting, a release valve for his cunning nature and for his Alpha's desire to retain control, only to yield in the end beneath the weight of her supposedly superior dominance. That way, he appeared obedient without seeming dull.
He cultivated her false sense of control.
The truth was something else entirely. He was not beneath her. He was not even her equal. He had surpassed her long ago, only he tightened the bars slowly enough that she would not realize she had been caged until it was far too late.
She and Father were nothing without him. They pretended he owed them everything, yet by now he was their only salvation and the rightful continuation of their bloodline.
But he was not ready to reveal his hand. He was a formidable and worthy opponent, yet until the crown rested upon his head, they still possessed enough power to make his life miserable.
So he played the role of their perfect little heir, allowing himself the occasional display of wit and razor-sharp intelligence, carefully fostering the belief that he was immune to manipulation only susceptible to theirs.
At times, it felt like walking across thin ice. At others, their shortsightedness genuinely amused him.
He was the puppet master pulling every string. Even those that shaped public opinion.
"That is not the proper way to greet me. Has your lengthy journey deprived you of your manners and caused you to forget protocol?" Walburga asked coldly, her lips pressing into a thin line.
"My apologies, Your Majesty. However, I was under the impression that this visit was of a private and informal nature, considering the unusually early hour and the complete lack of prior notice," Regulus replied in an even, impeccably polite tone before inclining his head to his mother.
Even so, he continued to grate on her nerves, something he recognized instantly by the slight flare of her nostrils.
"Formal or not, you kept me waiting. It is unacceptable that, at this hour, you were not yet prepared to represent the Crown with dignity." As she spoke, she lifted her chin. The diadem seemed to add height to her already imposing presence, lending her gaze an icy, commanding authority.
"It was a long and productive journey, one that concluded ahead of schedule," Regulus informed her. He did not even attempt an excuse, because such a thing simply did not exist in his mother's eyes. He merely stated a fact that technically, he had not even been expected to be here this morning.
"You are expected to be ready to fulfill your duties at any hour of the day or night, regardless of your schedule," Walburga growled as she seated herself upon the sofa, a faint look of distaste crossing her face. Clearly, neither the quality nor the lavishness of the room's furnishings nor of the residence itself met her standards.
"Of course, Ma'am," Regulus answered smoothly. He handed her a steaming cup of tea before taking one of the armchairs opposite her "To what do I owe this visit? If I recall correctly, we were to meet tomorrow for the official dinner, after which I was to present my report on the tour before the Council."
He had spent the past several months on a royal tour through every region and colony of the Kingdom, presenting himself as the Crown Prince and future King of Slytherin while demonstrating the unity of the realm, reinforcing loyalty to the Crown, and strengthening the influence of the metropolis over its colonies and dominions.
The journey had been as exhausting as it had been enlightening.
For the first time, he had come face-to-face with parts of the Kingdom and with cultures that, despite belonging to Slytherin's own heritage, had remained foreign to him because of his upbringing in the capital, locked away within the gilded cages of palaces and castles.
He decidedly preferred that to his mother's endless intrigues and his father's steadily worsening paranoia.
"You will not be able to attend that meeting tomorrow. It is hardly a great loss, considering we have already received reports confirming that your tour was a success." It wasn't flattery, just a simple acknowledgment of fact. Duty well done was a given, not an act worthy of praise.
The Queen took a measured sip of her tea. The absence of even the slightest grimace meant Kreacher had truly gone out of his way, deliberately selecting her favorite blend of strong black tea.
"Is that so?" Regulus hummed with polite interest, though his stomach tightened. His mother had a plan and it was highly unlikely he would appreciate it.
"Indeed. Tomorrow, Hogsmeade will host the opening ball of the social Season. You will attend. In fact, you will remain there for the entire summer, presenting yourself as a young prince open to marriage." Walburga's voice remained perfectly calm, yet the slightest upward twitch at the corner of her lips, almost imperceptible to anyone who had not spent years studying the subtle shifts in her microexpressions in order to anticipate her next move, told Regulus that she was fully aware of the storm her words had unleashed inside him.
He refused to grant her that satisfaction. He merely blinked with measured curiosity at the announcement, though inwardly he was seething.
This was a significant disruption to the carefully established timeline his life was supposed to follow over the next several years.
Marriage had been scheduled for two years from now, in accordance with an ancient, nearly forgotten law still observed primarily among royal and noble families. It required daughters and firstborn sons to have secured a mate by the age of twenty-one; otherwise, the King possessed the legal right to arrange a marriage on their behalf.
In Regulus's case, the marriage had always been destined to be arranged anyway. His future mate would have to satisfy an extensive list of expectations imposed by his House, the Crown, and his parents before receiving their approval. Regulus's approval carried no weight whatsoever.
He made peace with that. In truth, he had accepted it even before the phantom weight of the crown had settled upon his head.
The only way to fulfill his duty to the legacy of House Black while remaining true to himself, to his nature, his morals, and his heart, was no longer possible.
It had ceased to exist.
Everyone knew that tale.
Almost a thousand years ago, the Four Founders had crossed the seas to settle upon the New Continent, which they divided into four kingdoms: Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. Each was distinct, different and prosperous in its own way, yet each depended upon the others in order to flourish in harmony and wealth, just as Alphas, Betas, and Omegas depended upon one another to create a healthy and thriving society.
And it had worked. It had worked flawlessly for nearly 700 years, until greed, ambition, and old resentments poisoned the hearts of mankind deeply enough that the kingdoms turned upon one another, sacrificing harmony in pursuit of dominance and self-sufficiency.
The decades of war produced remarkable consequences, though not the ones anyone had anticipated. Borders shifted, territories were conquered, but the most devastating change was a dramatic decline in population, one that could not be explained by wartime casualties alone.
Fewer children were being born. Female Alphas and Betas, subjected to the relentless stress of war, had almost entirely lost the ability to carry children, while Omegas began suffering widespread fertility problems. Worse still, the war had fostered an increasing tendency to favor Alphas above all others, leaving Omegas under constant pressure while their instincts were dismissed, ignored, and systematically suppressed.
When the number of Omegas began to decline at a truly alarming rate, scholars concluded that the world had become so inhospitable that Omegas were simply no longer capable of functioning within it so natural selection had begun to take its course.
Faced with a demographic crisis of catastrophic proportions, the kingdoms abandoned their wars, signed peace treaties, and attempted to restore a fragile balance and harmony to the landscape devastated by war.
Gradually, they succeeded in slowing the population's decline, and over the following decades they even managed to achieve a slightly positive birth rate.
Yet none of the kingdoms were ever able to flourish fully, because the gradual disappearance of Omegas could not be halted by any means.
More than 200 years after the war ended, Omegas accounted for less than 1% of the population. Only a handful were born each generation and they were all female.
No male Omega had been seen in over a hundred years.
A male Omega toward whom Regulus could have felt genuine sexual attraction, with whom he could have formed a true bond, even conceived a child out of love rather than duty.
It was the solution to his miserable situation that no longer existed.
The only remaining path to producing an heir was to take a female mate and although women were extraordinarily beautiful, graceful, and brilliantly intelligent beings, they stirred nothing in Regulus beyond aesthetic admiration and intellectual appreciation.
For 18 years he was the spare, overlooked child who was always held to impossibly high standards to be a worthy member of the family (and for almost his entire life he was convinced he wasn't) with minimal privileges and zero tolerance for any mistakes.
Now the title of the Ice Prince had been replaced with that of Crown Prince, yet beyond matters of authority and ambition, very little had truly changed.
Regulus had accepted what life had to offer him. Male Omegas had vanished so long ago that yearning for one felt less like longing for something once attainable and more like mourning a myth.
His future was painted in shades of darkness. Fortunately, he had grown accustomed to the color black long ago.
However none of that changed the fact that his mother's plans were absurdly unfair.
Even Sirius, during his time as Crown Prince, had never been forced to participate in this vanity fair.
The mere thought of spending two entire months surrounded by crowds of people dressed like peacocks, gracefully weaving between members of high society whose filthy secrets would have scandalized even the common rabble, forcing smiles as he tolerated their pettiness while pretending not to notice that beneath their lofty eloquence lay an embarrassing ignorance of literature, art, philosophy or anything beyond ordinary gossip made his skin crawl.
He should have had another year of peace and only after he turned twenty were his parents supposed to begin discussing suitable candidates before presenting him with a decision already made, followed by formal courtship, an engagement, and preparations for a grand wedding.
Regulus's required contribution to the entire affair had originally been precisely zero and knowing that had made the nausea somewhat easier to endure.
Throwing him into the relentless whirlwind of the social Season as its greatest object of attention and desire, forcing him to shine beneath every gaze was a horror. Literally a living nightmare.
Regulus had no illusions about the attention his presence would attract. He was an Alpha, the Crown Prince and the heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, whose wealth eclipsed even the royal treasuries of other kingdoms.
He was the most eligible bachelor of his generation, perhaps even of the decade.
Quite suddenly, he realized that the exhaustion weighing on him until now had been nothing more than catching his breath. The true fatigue had yet to arrive.
"I hadn't imagined this would become the focus of our attention," Regulus replied calmly, allowing only the faintest trace of surprise to enter his voice while carefully refraining from questioning decisions that had already been made.
Because, of course, there was no doubt that his mother was not asking for his opinion or consent.
"The Council unanimously agreed that it would be good for optics," Walburga answered curtly, reluctant acceptance flashing briefly in her eyes.
Whatever arguments they had presented to her, she must have deemed them reasonable enough that, despite every instinct in her body revolting against the idea, she had agreed to Regulus's participation.
It was no secret that, in her opinion, the royal family ought to be perceived as though they walked among gods, and that their very presence should be regarded as a blessing, even by the noblest members of high society.
"I shall do my utmost to represent both the Crown and House Black to the highest standard," Regulus replied in a stiff, emotionless voice, fully aware that, to his mother, his words were nothing more than a pause in her monologue. She just did not reach the true purpose of this meeting for a dramatic effect.
"I do not care about your utmost," she cut in sharply, setting her teacup aside before leaning toward him.
Her eyes gleamed with menace, and Regulus braced himself for the icy needles, each one tipped in venom, that every word from this point onward would carry.
"Listen carefully, because I will not repeat myself. You will devote every ounce of effort... every measure of that cunning, calculation, and ruthlessness you keep hidden while imagining yourself cleverer than everyone around you," she said, her lips twisting with faint contempt, "to ensuring that you appear impeccable, that you give the impression of being open to finding a mate while remaining entirely at ease with the process. You are to create an image."
There it was - the heart of the matter.
After the scandal surrounding Sirius, the Crown needed to polish its tarnished reputation, and Regulus as the new face of the monarchy and the future ruler of Slytherin was expected to accomplish that flawlessly.
"Every gaze that falls upon you must burn with either desire or envy. Young ladies should be ready to swoon simply because your eyes happened to linger on them. I expect recommendation letters from every respectable pure-blood Lord across the Continent, each presenting his daughter as a worthy candidate. They will receive nothing from you in return. No courtship. No promises. No declarations. You are not even to favor anyone with your attention. Give them only enough of yourself to tempt them with a carefully measured glimpse of the surface. Everything else must remain beyond their reach. That is how you will embody the power and untouchability of the Crown. Do you understand?" she delivered her orders with an authority that surpassed most battle-hardened generals.
Regulus inclined his head. "I understand, Your Majesty," he answered automatically, but his thoughts raced, struggling to adapt to these new expectations, though the dull knot twisting in his stomach made the task no easier.
Another masquerade awaited him only this time, the stage was unfamiliar and far more demanding. Still, the knowledge that he would not be expected to engage too deeply with anyone offered a sliver of comfort.
"Naturally, your impressions of the acquaintances you make will be equally important. I expect regular reports, and your preferences will be taken into consideration next year, when public attention shifts toward your marriage," Walburga informed him.
Regulus nearly laughed because his preferences would inspire nothing in his mother except disgust.
He believed she already knew, but as long as he kept it hidden and fulfilled the duty expected of him, she was willing to ignore it, just as she ignored her husband's countless affairs.
"Thank you, Mother. I shall remain exceptionally attentive to the presence of anyone who may prove suitable for the Crown," Regulus replied smoothly.
With regal composure, Walburga inclined her head before rising to her feet "I shall be leaving. You should prepare for your journey. You must depart no later than this evening. Your wardrobe has already been packed. Your tailor has seen to flattering cuts and the finest fabrics, so that every garment reflects the wealth and dignity of our House."
If an entire wardrobe had been deliberately designed and tailored to display the prosperity of House Black, then his mother had been planning this for a very long time. Perhaps from the very moment Regulus had become the heir.
He couldn't say he was surprised, but he also couldn't fully mask the sour expression he was getting from all the bile that had settled in his throat.
"You should be grateful to your brother for this entire situation," Walburga informed him as she turned to leave, a satisfied smile curling across her lips at the sight of his grimace, though it had appeared for reasons entirely different from those she imagined.
He was literally furious that his mother still sought to deepen the resentment between them after driving a wedge between the brothers 10 years earlier. Furious that after 20 years of seemingly being her favorite, practically the only child she noticed, she now refused to say his name. Furious that she used Sirius to conceal her own manipulations.
How little she knew.
To her and to the rest of the royal court Sirius's escape and subsequent return bearing a mating bite upon his neck had struck like a devastating plague. But not to Regulus.
Regulus had known from the very beginning. More than that - it had been Regulus himself who orchestrated the spectacular way it unfolded. He had chosen for the burden of the Crown to fall upon his own shoulders.
And he had done it out of love for Sirius, not ambition.
Before his older brother had left for Hogwarts at the age of eleven, they had been inseparable, as much as Sirius's duties allowed. Even at that age, the Crown Prince already had responsibilities to fulfill, and their parents had always been demanding.
Yet Sirius had always placed Regulus first. He had been the only person, besides Kreacher, who truly cared for him. The only person who saw him. Regulus entrusted him with his sorrows, his joys, his hopes, and his fears. In Sirius, he had found an inexhaustible source of comfort and trust. They had shared an unconditional love.
But from that moment on, Sirius began to rebel, and he questioned their parents' beliefs and even some of the fundamental principles upon which their Kingdom stood.
Even Regulus could objectively admit that Slytherin was undeniably more conservative and traditional than the other kingdoms. There was nothing inherently wrong with that but unfortunately, those values were all too often (particularly among the upper classes, as ordinary citizens of Slytherin tended to be far more progressive and open-minded) accompanied by a profound lack of respect and tolerance toward anything different, especially beyond the Kingdom's borders.
Realizing she was losing control over Sirius, their mother concluded that the only effective way to manipulate him and to punish his insolent behavior was through Regulus. To make it even more effective, she decided the best course of action was to destroy the unbreakable front the brothers presented together.
She began poisoning Regulus's mind with doubts and insecurities, insisting that Sirius had found better company at school than his very useless little brother. Regulus's impressionable and sensitive mind gradually accepted those words as truth. What he later witnessed at Hogwarts only seemed to confirm them, and bitterness and resentment slowly took root within him, especially since Sirius continually urged him to join his rebellion against their parents.
While Regulus privately agreed with many (though certainly not all) of Sirius's criticisms regarding their parents, the law, and the Kingdom itself, he could never afford to voice those opinions openly.
He craved and cherished the little bit of attention, acknowledgment and (as he even deceived himself at the time) love he received from his parents and he could not afford to take away even these crumbs with his reckless behavior.
Their paths diverged, because neither brother knew how to speak in a way the other would not perceive as an attack. Back then, they simply did not understand one another. Sirius failed to see the neglect Regulus had learned to survive. Regulus remained oblivious to the crushing pressure Sirius had endured for years.
For five years, they barely spoke.
Behind layers of resentment and jealousy, Regulus buried the profound love he still felt for his brother, a love he neither could nor wished to extinguish.
But it was easier that way.
He was too insignificant for anyone to overlook his mistakes as they overlooked Sirius's. The status of Crown Prince shielded Sirius from consequences in ways Regulus could never hope for. Their parents forgave Sirius far more than they ever forgave Regulus, he received only criticism.
There was no alternative but perfection.
Playing the flawless son and the flawless prince granted him brief moments of respite from his parents' relentless judgment, and enduring Sirius's contempt was far easier than facing the restrictions, punishments, and relentless indoctrination awaiting him every time they returned to Obsidian Castle during the holidays.
Everything changed during Sirius's sixth year.
Regulus watched the joy slowly wither inside his brother and the light faded from him. And those things had always been the very essence of what fueled Sirius's resistance against everything their parents threw at him.
He had lost the constant presence of his best friend, and without him, even with Remus at his side, he began to resemble... a Black.
Nothing had ever terrified Regulus more.
For the first time in years, it was Regulus who reached out first. During Sirius's final year at Hogwarts, they managed to rebuild the connection between them.
Officially, their brotherly bond had been irreparably destroyed, and after Hogwarts their relationship appeared cold and distant. The stack of letters hidden inside Regulus's bedside table told an entirely different story. Come to think of it, he should check whether Sirius had written while he had been away. Their correspondence remained a closely guarded secret, and during his travels they could not afford the risk.
Many believed Sirius had never intended to marry or become King.
They believed he had deliberately chosen the moment when all eyes were fixed upon the royal family in order to humiliate them as thoroughly as possible.
The Crown Prince's courtship ritual was one of the greatest events in the Kingdom, and the identity of the future Queen was shrouded in secrecy, which only fueled public fascination.
The accusation was utterly vile. Sirius had fully intended to fulfill both duties expected of him: securing an heir for House Black and accepting the Crown.
Not because of ambition nor because of devotion to the throne, but because he wanted to spare Regulus that burden. That was why he had fought so fiercely with their parents, trying to prevent them from binding him to one of his cousins and insisting they find him another prospective mate.
It had been Regulus who brought the entire plan to Sirius, and he had refused to take no for an answer. He had seen what separation from his best friend had done to Sirius, and he refused even to imagine what would become of the older brother he loved above all else if he were forced to lose his true mate.
Sirius had been irrevocably in love, and despite this he had been prepared to sacrifice that love for Regulus... for his younger brother and for the fragile bond they had only just managed to rebuild.
But Sirius had already devoted far too much of his life to protecting Regulus. Now it was Regulus's turn to protect his brother and strengthen the bond between them.
Of course, they had both known their parents would never consent to the Crown Prince marrying a middle-class citizen of Gryffindor, let alone a male Alpha.
Although homosexual relationships were legal throughout all Four Kingdoms under the policy of peace and openness (whether as an attempt to appease the Founders and the gods, or perhaps to avoid provoking their wrath even further) such a union among the highest ranks of the nobility remained virtually unprecedented.
Such a marriage could produce no children. And without children, it could not fulfill the one purpose every pure-blood noble family valued above all else: the continuation of the bloodline.
They had planned the entire scandal in haste in order to protect the identity of the young woman their parents had chosen. They refused to let Sirius's actions humiliate her or make it more difficult for her to find another, more suitable mate.
The fact that everything had unfolded so unexpectedly, so brazenly, and that Sirius had appeared at court with a mating bite on his neck in a state bordering on dishevelled indecency - that had been a blow aimed directly at their parents and at House Black.
No one was surprised that Sirius was disinherited and disowned. His exile from the Kingdom, however, had outraged the public.
The wave of criticism that crashed down upon the King and Queen for their outdated traditions, their denial of personal choice, and their blatant intolerance had been staggering. Even now, it remained a thorn in their side, especially their mother's.
Her only comfort lay in imagining the misery and poverty Sirius must surely be enduring in exile.
Regulus might have feared for Sirius's wellbeing as well, if it were not for the fact that he had help in ensuring Sirius's best. Sirius had been provided with every comfort until the day Regulus became King, and in return Sirius had promised that, when that day came, he would once again make Slytherin his home and help Regulus rule the Kingdom in every way he could.
Their benefactor had not only secured Sirius's comfort - he had also given Regulus peace of mind. For that, Regulus would remain grateful for the rest of his life.
He still had no idea what to do with those feelings, because every thought of him made his heart flutter.
And it had absolutely nothing to do with everything that had happened with Sirius.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Before noon, Regulus was already making his way toward the courtyard, where the usual chaos of departure preparations filled the air. Halfway there, Barty seemed to materialize beside him out of nowhere.
As Regulus's personal guard, he was his usual travelling companion. Technically, Regulus could have relieved him of that duty since the Royal Guard would be responsible for securing both the journey and his stay in Hogsmeade.
But Regulus simply felt better with Barty at his side.
At present, Barty was training under the finest swordmasters in the Kingdom. His sharp strategic mind and effortless mastery of the blade were capable of astonishing even the most battle-hardened generals.
He was shaping up to become one of the greatest warriors of their time.
"I see that little wrinkle between your brows is still there. You should find yourself a better lay. This one wasn't even decent," Barty remarked sympathetically, wearing an easy grin as he slung an arm around Regulus's shoulders.
Barty was also one of the greatest assholes of their time.
Regulus shot him a murderous glare and shrugged his arm off.
Barty immediately raised both hands in surrender, wearing an expression of utterly fake innocence "I'm only saying what I see. You could always join Evan and me."
"Shut the fuck up, Crouch. Not here," Regulus hissed.
"Fair enough. We should get moving anyway. Rosiers have a two-hour head start on us, and the amount of luggage you're bringing is honestly horrifying." Barty smirked shamelessly. "How much are you planning to doll yourself up, Princess?"
Regulus could not even threaten to cut out his tongue. He already knew exactly what filthy comeback that would earn him. Besides, that was not the part of Barty's comment that had caught his attention.
"Rosiers are heading to Hogsmeade?"
"What? Did you think we'd leave you alone with this?" Barty was genuinely surprised. "Pandora was going to be there anyway, and Evan was supposed to join her next week as a chaperone," he said in a hushed voice, looking around with concern as though afraid Evan might leap out from behind a corner and smack him for saying that. "But plans changed, so he packed up and left with her."
"Pandora wanted to take part in the Season?" Regulus blinked in surprise. Pandora's enigmatic nature rarely showed any interest in social mingling.
Barty shrugged.
"You know what she's like. One day she simply woke up and decided it sounded like a good idea."
They stepped into the courtyard, where the royal carriage awaited Regulus in all its imposing black splendor. The inlaid wood, trimmed with polished silver, gleamed beneath the midday sun.
Dorcas stood next to the carriage, and the sight of her made Regulus stop for a moment.
They had not seen each other in almost a year, ever since she had begun the third year of her international studies at the University of Ravenclaw. Her father was one of the King's most trusted advisers, and he spared no expense when it came to the education of his only daughter. He envisioned her becoming a diplomat or earning a seat on the Royal Council.
"Your Highness," Dorcas greeted formally, dipping into a graceful curtsey.
"Lady Meadows," Regulus replied with a polite inclination of his head, keeping his tone appropriately formal despite the smile he could not suppress. "We are honored by your presence, though I confess this is a rather unexpected way to spend your summer recess."
"I couldn't allow you to endure this misery without the full team," she replied with a wide smile before giving his arm a friendly squeeze.
The prospect of the summer became a little more bearable as he realized it would be the first time in two years that all of his closest friends would be together in one place.
By the time they reached his summer residence in Hogsmeade, the sun had only just begun its descent toward the horizon.
The estate had indeed been prepared for his arrival; servants hurried busily about their duties, and Regulus assumed most of them belonged to his mother's network of whisperers. Even here, he would have to remain vigilant.
Fortunately, that was tomorrow's concern.
That evening they had been invited to dine with Evan and Pandora, so after a quick bath and a change of clothes, an hour later he found himself seated around a table in the conservatory with the familiar group of five and with magnificent view of sunset stretching beyond the glass.
Regulus lowered his gaze to his plate where a perfectly seared bluefin tuna steak greeted him there. His eyes immediately shifted toward Pandora. Feigning innocent ignorance, she carefully avoided looking his way.
Regulus narrowed his eyes suspiciously. It was his favourite fish, exceptionally rare, so there was no chance it had appeared by accident, which led him to suspect that Pandora had known he would be here long before Regulus himself had.
Still, he found himself incapable of being angry with Pandora.
Besides, an unexpectedly sentimental thought settled over him. This gathering felt like a gentle foreshadowing of the future - the beginnings of his Royal Council were already seated around him.
"So..." Barty began, pouring wine for everyone. A mischievous grin spreading across his face left little doubt as to where this conversation was heading. "Did Wally include a script with all those costumes telling you exactly how you're supposed to behave and what you're supposed to say?"
Evan snorted into his wine glass when he heard Barty call her Queen. Maybe (definitely) it was disrespectful, but everyone here knew her more as Regulus's awful mother than their Queen, so they felt justified.
"Say what you like, but sending Regulus here was a brilliant move on her part," Dorcas remarked, taking a sip of her wine before flinching slightly beneath the sharp look Regulus shot her "What? It is. People are curious about you. Not House Black. Prince Regulus."
Regulus gave a quiet snort. He had no doubt that most of the young ladies who would be paraded before him over the next two months already knew him from the days when he had been the least important member of the royal family. Back then, they had never bothered hiding their true colours from him. Regulus knew their contempt and vanity. Rather than curiosity, he will now arouse fear and admiration. He was actually fine with that.
"People rarely saw you at official events. Her indifference and dismissiveness can easily be interpreted as a desire to ensure your privacy, and now it creates an additional aura of exclusivity. Your royal tour caused an enormous impression and stirred quite a sensation, so you will appear with the Crown Prince's position strengthened and an impeccable, sophisticated presence. You will present the proper image for the Blacks and for Slytherin, destroying rumors about the lack of choice and xenophobia, reducing Sirius's feat to a childish tantrum and a failure to accept the assigned role and his own blood. Besides, your mother almost certainly already has her candidates, and now she is creating psychological pressure on their families with the potential vision of losing you to other women. After Sirius's stunt, they may be skeptical and cautious, afraid of scandal, and Walburga is silencing any doubts they might have in that way. No one in the Four Kingdoms has as much to offer as the Blacks. A pure-blood Alpha Crown Prince in his prime," Dorcas summed up both him and the whole situation in analytical tone, with the sharp observational eye of a politician fluent in international relations.
She was absolutely right. Ravenclaw currently had only a Princess his own age. Hufflepuff had a young King and Queen who had recently welcomed their firstborn son, so the matrimonial and social market held no interest for them. And Gryffindor... had a Prince.
A Prince whom Regulus thought about more often than he cared to admit, and the very sound of his name could completely ruin the rhythm of his heart, which was all the more pathetic considering he had not seen him in 5 years.
"So basically you have to show up as what we already know you are: a hot piece of ass everyone wants a lick of," Barty commented.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Regulus could not sleep, and he tried not to sulk about the fact that he was not in his bed again. He kept turning from one side to the other until he flung the silk sheets away in irritation and considered abandoning all attempts to fall asleep when a sudden thought struck him and he remembered that these lands offered an incredible view of the night sky, especially at this time of year.
He felt a sudden longing for starlight, and he was so lost in his thoughts that he did not even notice when one of those stars fell into his room.
"Sirius?" Regulus blurted when he finally recognized the figure that had climbed in through the window, making his heart stop in his chest, and he automatically reached beneath his pillow, closing his hand around the grounding, soothing chill of the dagger there.
"In the flesh," Sirius replied with a wide grin, throwing his arms aside. "Miss me?"
"Like a stray I never wanted but eventually got used to," Regulus muttered, and Sirius made an offended noise.
"Get your arse up and come to the roof, you mean little grump."
A moment later they were sitting on the roof, the cool wind soothing the sweat on his skin and the faint overheating there, pleasantly brushing through his curls. Starlight danced in Sirius's silky hair and gave their pale skin an ethereal glow.
"How did you know I'd be here? They announced it in some newspaper that everyone knew before me. " Regulus asked in irritation, because although he was incredibly happy to see Sirius, this most definitely could not have been a coincidence.
"Didn't the old hag tell you she'd be sending you here?" Sirius asked, staring at the sky thoughtfully before reaching into his pocket and taking out a pack of cigarettes and handing it to Regulus, who hummed in agreement.
Without hesitation he took one, even though his mother's voice rang in his head about what a vulgar habit it was.
"So how did you get here?" he asked after taking a solid drag deep into his lungs and exhaling, stretching his neck and tipping his face toward the star-strewn sky.
"Moony was in town and spotted a Royal Guard with Slytherin insignia. He came running back in a panic, thinking they'd come to arrest me or something," Sirius laughed and looked at him, his eyes bright with tenderness and amusement.
Regulus's eyes carefully scanned his face, noting with satisfaction every remaining likeness between them and meticulously memorizing every change that had taken place. All of them were for the better. He looked handsome, visibly more manly, more mature, and the tan suited him.
"So you got here before me?" Regulus asked in surprise, because why in Salazar's name would Sirius be here? This was the last place Regulus would have expected him.
"Yup. Yesterday. I wrote about it in my last letter."
Regulus sighed, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "I didn't get a chance to read it. I returned from the royal tour this morning, and by noon I was already on my way here."
"Are they..." Sirius's voice faltered, but he pulled himself together and studied Regulus carefully as though searching his face for something, his eyes filling with concern. "Are they moving up the marriage?"
"No. I'm supposed to dress like a peacock and haughtily ignore everyone, like an Alpha Crown Prince of House Black," Regulus replied flatly, taking another drag from the cigarette. The smoke burned in his lungs, drowning everything else out.
Sirius snorted and shook his head. "Classic... I know it's far from ideal, but this is a chance for us to see each other more often. I've missed you," he said, draping an arm around Regulus's shoulders and pulling him close enough to kiss the top of his head. Regulus allowed himself to relax a little, drawing in Sirius's scent: leather and smoke with a hint of refreshing pine, before pushing him away with a grimace, though Sirius knew him far too well to be fooled. "I was planning to sneak away from here and visit you. I've got something for you."
He reached inside his leather jacket and pulled out a long box, where in black velvet lay a beautiful silver dagger that gleamed so brightly in the moonlight that the sight of it seemed almost hypnotic. Regulus was mesmerized by the beauty and smoothness of the eight-inch blade, which seemed capable of cutting through the air itself, but the true artistry lay in the hilt, which at both ends featured curling vines that wrapped around the blade and the enormous emerald set at the tip.
Regulus knew at once that it was entirely the work of Sirius's devilishly skilled hands. Forge work and weapon-making were their Kingdom's domain, but only craftsmen from Gryffindor would have been able to teach Sirius such finesse in metalwork. Thanks to that combined training, Sirius was able to create a weapon of lethal beauty, bordering on a work of art.
"It's beautiful. Thank you," he finally managed, because he was too tired to untangle the knot of his feelings and put them into words properly. He was happy to be near Sirius, and he did not need to say that aloud for his brother to know it.
"Listen. If you have any problem, find me and we'll deal with it, all right? I'm here, and I'll help you survive this entire Season. It's a good thing that if Mother is going all in on exclusivity and unattainability, you don't have to grace every single ball with your presence. That should help you catch your breath," Sirius said, patting him lightly on the shoulder. "Try not to break too many hearts, though," he teased with a smirk, and if Regulus had not been so enchanted by Sirius's gift, he might have considered throwing him off the roof.
"Wait. How did you even end up here in the first place?" Regulus asked suddenly as Sirius was already getting ready to leave.
"Oh... for James. He's here," Sirius called back over his shoulder.
His heart jolted violently as the name he had been avoiding all day finally fell, and with such devastating finality.
James Potter.
Well, this was going to be one hell of a Season.