Chapter Text
Tragedy often starts with a moment of joy. It starts on bright summer days before the night devolves into the death of those you love. It starts with a bird, and a fountain and ends with water-clogged lungs and death. It starts with a wedding, this time at least Regulus knows where the downward trajectory of his adult life started; his mother's wedding.
This time at least he has a singular moment, where his future self can point back and say this is where everything truly went wrong or perhaps not. Perhaps it all truly went wrong the night his brother died, or was it the night his father died, or maybe even the first time he almost drowned? Perhaps he could point back and claim that his life had been a tragedy from the moment he was born and no one would be bothered to disprove him.
He doesn't let his wandering thoughts of tragedies and death show on his face, however. His face remains blank, impassive, but not bored, it would be unbecoming for the prince to appear bored at his mother's wedding, not that he thinks anyone would truly care whether he looked bored or not, aside from his mother that is, so he keeps his face blank. His eyes lowered as he took the wine presented by the serving girl and poured it into his mother's goblet. After all, what's a good wedding without better wine?
He glances up at his mother as the red liquid flows into the goblet. His mother's face remains cold as always, eyes sharp but disinterested. She is objectively beautiful, no one can deny that but her cruelty is still visible beneath the mask of civility she wears. Still, upon closer inspection, her cruelty is visible in the way her lips curl with disgust whenever a serving girl gets too close to her. The way her nails click against the arm of her chair as she waits impatiently for him to finish. She doesn't say anything however as he stops pouring. She simply watches in disdain as she does with most things; never lowering herself enough to sully her hands with his punishments but she would have no issue deriving joy from his screams. He can only hope as he steps back that she has found no fault with his performance for the evening.
The rest of the room comes into focus as he moves back to his seat, returning the pitcher of wine to the serving girl who will take his place serving his mother wine. The pitcher remains for his mother alone as she would never drink the same wine those deemed beneath her drink. He sits, back straight, as he surveys the room, the majority of the noble houses of the seven kingdoms are in attendance. There is chatter filling the hall as the musicians play a quiet tune to simply fill the room. Those not of the House of Black sit at the lower tables and laugh amongst themselves, talking and enjoying the festivities of the night but even if everyone does their best to remain relaxed it does not take away from the tension creeping beneath the surface. It does not diminish the silent threat that hangs over all their heads. A threat that invades every room his mother enters and he understands their hesitation. He has his own after all, he can feel it in the stiffness of his neck, it's a wary sort of tension born from a fear of things not outwardly visible. To some, his mother is a tyrant, but only when those speaking are alone in secured rooms and so deep in their cups that they can't bring themselves to see the reasonable fear those words would invoke sober.
His eyes catch on the table where the Rosiers were to be seated, their table filled with distant relatives and stewards but not a single person from the main family. Regulus had hoped to see Evan, hoped to see his... Acquaintance, not a friend, never friend. His mother had drilled that lesson into his head as a child, he was a prince, a spare as he had been at the time but a prince nonetheless, and he could not afford the vulnerability that came with placing his trust in people who might simply use him to gain more power. He would call her a hypocrite if it weren't for the fact that her marriage to Tom Gaunt was political in its own right. Even so, he had hoped for the young man to be there, he would've liked the company. Instead, he was seated between his mother and Bellatrix Lestrange, a truly torturous seating choice, one he is sure was made to make him as uncomfortable as possible.
The Rosiers however were excused sighting the illness of the family's matriarch and the wish to be near should the Stranger open his arms to her. He did not follow the faith of the seven though, not like they did, not like his mother did. He had found that if a god truly existed out there they must hate him and in turn, he despised them back, for faith did not last long where every greedy hand and well-meaning voice was destined to drown him out.
Across the hall sat the Potters, the Northen Lords and Ladies that had followed their Warden house laughing the loudest. Regulus had always thought those brutes had no sense of decency and he had yet to be proved wrong. Fleamont Potter had come with his heir, James, leaving his Lady to care for Winterfell while he was away. A large part of Regulus wished the Lord had left James behind too. The young man's smiling face was too much of a reminder of a childhood he had long since lost. Too much of a reminder of the brother he had lost, as James Potter and Sirius Black had been friends long before Sirius had died, and now four years after his brother's death the only thought James Potter provoked in Regulus' mind is one of empty rooms and grief.
Regulus looks away from James when the man glances up catching him staring, he does not want to know what he will see in his dead brother's best friend's eyes. Didn't want to see what kind of rejection he would find in one of his childhood idol's eyes. Sometimes it was easier to simply assume someone hated you and treat them as such rather than have to face the true extent of their rejection head-on.
Further down the table sat the Weasley family, the newly instated Lord of Moat Cailin, Arthur Weasley, laughing along with his family. Throwing winks every so often at his betrothed Molly Prewett. Both families were set to leave Kingslanding the following day in preparation for the marriage between both families, rather than simply not showing their faces as the Rosiers had done, they had simply asked for permission to leave early. The loyal houses of the Malfoy family sat at the table next to the Prewetts, while the Warden of the West, Lucius Malfoy and his wife Narcissa sat at the head table with the Prince of Dorne, Rudolphus and his wife Bellatrix. The Longbottoms of the Vale sat at their table, which was arranged to be next to the Rosier's table. All of this remained completely irrelevant in the torch-lit hall.
Silence fell fast when Tom stood, goblet in hand, he stood with all the poise of a noble family, an old one. His posture had become a favoured topic when his mother was looking for something to complain about. She enjoyed comparing Regulus' every move to that of those around him. Something she claimed was to ensure he remained a perfect heir, as to never let him grow complacent in his actions.
Orange light from the torches danced around the hall, playing across people's faces, making their shadows dance to an unknown tune. Regulus refused to think about how it made Potter's features more defined, creating an image of otherworldly beauty, he simply blamed the stress of the past few weeks for his unbecoming thoughts. There was no place for childish feelings now that his very place in the family could be uprooted with the birth of another brother. He hadn't even realised his eyes had drifted away from Tom towards James Potter until the older boy smiled at him. Regulus scowled at him already growing tired of the boy and his inability to be serious and even now, James' smile, after having noticed Regulus' scowl, shifted into a smirk. Regulus looked away with a soft scoff, James Potter was arrogant as ever and he refused to suffer the sight of him any longer.
"What an auspicious day," Tom began, voice soft yet it carried all through the hall. Regulus forced himself to keep his eyes on the far end of the hall. Not turning to face Tom, but not letting his eyes stray back to Potter. "A truly remarkable day for the union between two ancient houses-"
Regulus let his mind drift as Tom spoke, uncaring of whatever the man had to say. He knew he should care, or at least pretend to listen to the man and yet he found himself unable to. He often wondered what Sirius would think of the current political situation, he would wonder if his brother would spend his time complaining about it or ignoring it. Either was a possibility when it came to Sirius, his brother had always been free-spirited in that way, a soul no one could confine nor give orders to and it made life all the more difficult because of it. He had often admired that brash side of his brother, but that had been before that side had been turned on him and before he let his anger control his words. He had only admired that stubborn, prideful side of his brother before he knew what pride and stubbornness would do to people in this family. He had been right in the end, his brother's stubborn refusal to not let injustices go had gotten him killed and his cowardly younger brother had taken his place as heir. Regulus would've laughed if he didn't despise the situation so much.
A sharp pain in his leg forced him to glance to his left where Bellatrix sat. She had a smile firmly fixed on her face, her eyes looking past him to the new king, but he glanced down noting how she slipped a thin black needle back into the rather large and ugly jewellery she wore on her arm. The needle reminded him somewhat of a design he'd seen in a book that detailed assassinations of previous lords and ladies. If Regulus had had any less self control he would've stabbed her with his steak knife. He glared at her as she met his eyes, her pleasure at his expense even more prevalent as her smile widened with more sadistic glee. Bellatrix is insane, although it isn't so different from everyone else in this family but she is more open with it, whereas people like Narcissa and Regulus hid their madness behind a mask of aloofness, Bellatrix wore her madness as a mask rather than hiding it. His mother had never liked that about her.
The sound of Tom raising his voice slightly drew Regulus' attention back to the man, who had raised his goblet higher, and Regulus wondered why he had only been ordered to serve his mother wine, he had considered that it may have just been another strange tradition, but that thought was quickly chased away as the new king finished his speech with, "To the beginning of a new era, long may the houses of Black and Gaunt reign. Long live the queen."
"Long live the queen." The hall echoed back, goblets raised and clanking against each other with perhaps more force than was strictly necessary, but with less enthusiasm from certain tables than others. Regulus noted that both Potters had found the speech displeasing in some manner, the Prewetts seemed to share their sentiment although they were less open with it. The Dornish men and woman however seemed overjoyed with this speech, those of the stormlands too, although the Carrow family practically worshiped the ground the Black family walked upon so this came as no surprise. Regulus joined the rest as he raised his glass before drinking.
He drank carefully, wishing to be at least buzzed before the dancing started but not wishing to act like a complete barbarian and drink the whole goblet in one, he had some self-respect in that sense. The food was brought in and laid out along the tables as the chatter resumed, the sounds becoming indistinct as the music picked up too, all of it blurring into background noise as Regulus picked up his knife to cut into whatever meat the hunting party had deemed fit for the feast this time.
He gently cut through the meat before looking to Bellatrix, she was watching the Longbottom family with such disgust one would assume they'd fed her, her favourite hunting dog.
"Lady Lestrange," Regulus said as innocently as he could. "If you are going to carry around pointy objects then I will be inclined to believe you would like an introduction to my knife collection."
"Aw, little Reggie wants to show me his knives, that's cute" Bellatrix replied, her voice sugary and grating in the way it was when an adult spoke to a child. She leaned closer holding her knife; delicately threatening. Regulus allowed a smirk to curl at the corners of his mouth. He had needed an outlet for the boredom of sitting at the head table watching everyone else enjoy the feast and if causing fights with his insane cousin was tonight's entertainment then so be it.
"Please act like the Noble you are, Bella, everyone can see you and it's..." Regulus replied, pausing for a moment and dragging out as much contempt as possible in the next few words, " Unbecoming of you to wave your knife around like it's a toy."
Regulus did not care for the glare Bella shot him as she lowered the knife, however, the knowing gleam that flashed through her eyes first was much more troublesome. Bellatrix and knowledge you weren't privy to was always a pain in the ass and one he would rather not deal with tonight.
"Let them see, it won't matter after all; tonight changes everything after all" Bellatrix said.
Regulus glanced at her sharply, his voice hard as he asked, "What do you mean by that?"
"Don't worry your pretty little head about it Regulus, just be a good lap dog and listen to what your master tells you to do," Bellatrix said as she laughed.
Regulus was fully glaring at her now. His jaw clenched as he put the knife down with more force than necessary, his mother glanced over at him sharp eyes boring into the side of his head, he couldn't bring himself to care, the words were out of his mouth before he had the chance to think about it.
"You're the real lap dog with how you fall at your new master's feet like a common bi-" He started, voice hard with an anger he hadn't called upon for a long time but now it was there, bubbling just under the surface.
"Regulus," Walburga said, her voice edged with a danger he didn't want to provoke but he knew it was already too late. The reprimand was strong in her voice but as he glanced at her he saw the cold, hard look in her eyes, a look that promised pain. One he was all too familiar with.
"Apologies, Mother." He said softly, any fire left in him doused by his mother's cold look. Under her gaze he felt ten again, begging for her forgiveness as she picked out which guard had the honour of disciplining him that day. He felt like a naughty child under her gaze; a sinner faced with the divine judgment of a holy man. His food tasted like ash in his mouth, so he sipped his wine instead, hoping to drown out the dread of tomorrow likely involving him being punished with his wine.
He could practically feel Bellatrix's satisfaction as she hummed in appreciation of the food she was eating. Walburga simply returned to her eating, silence falling over their table once again. A silence that only made Regulus wish to leave the feast faster but he couldn't, not until his mother and Tom had left. He raised his goblet, noticing it was empty and having a serving girl refill it for him, by the time his mother had her fill he had been through another two glasses and the pleasant haze that accompanied wine fell over him. The hall's lighting seemingly brightened to some degree, the sounds blending more than before, the firelight dancing across the floor as shadows chased after servants.
Tom leaned closer to his mother and spoke softly. Regulus glanced at her, her face a mask of cold aloofness and yet there was something off about her expression. Regulus couldn't pin it down and yet he felt himself sober slightly. Something was wrong and he had no way to figure out what it was, so he did what he usually did when trying to figure out an answer for himself, he watched silently. Everyone turned to watch as Tom held his arm out for Walburga, as she stepped elegantly across the floor with Tom next to her. She showed not a single emotion as she stepped down the few stairs that led to the open space specifically for dancing. Tom at her side, every bit the Noble heir he claimed he was.
The musicians took their cue and began the first song to open the floor to dance. The notes floated around the room, the only sound now as the other nobles watched quietly, respectfully, as the Queen and her new King began to dance. Their steps were slow as they moved across the floor but graceful in the way it made it appear as if they were floating. Walburga's dress fluttered slightly as it trailed across the floor. His mother still did not smile, her face impassive but Regulus could just barely see the beginning of sweat beading her forehead. He wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been paying attention, he doubted that anyone else had noticed either.
He remained seated with perfect posture even if he wished to lean forward to get a better look at his mother, he would rather not have Bellatrix stab him with a needle again. He didn't even want to know why she had a needle in her jewellery in the first place, but the likelihood of his mother putting her up to the task of ensuring he didn't sully the family name was not something he wished to ignore. So he remained as still as possible, watching as the newlywed couple danced.
The tempo increased, and the movements of the dance grew more and more exaggerated as the song continued. Shadows chased the two across the floor, clinging to their steps as they moved through the motions of the dance, there was no love for each other in their gaze as they spun. No warmth in the way they embraced each other. The warm light of the fires did nothing but highlight the cold distance between the two, Regulus had known from the first time news had broken of his mother's marriage to Tom that she had done it for power, done it to cement her own rather unstable rule over the seven kingdoms. He had known she'd done it to produce a new spare in case Regulus failed at his duties as heir again. He had known all of this and yet as he watched the two dance he couldn't help but wonder how there was not even a hint of contempt in their eyes; he marvelled at how both only held the other in a stare of pure apathy.
The dance continued, drawing closer and closer to its ending, to its final notes. Regulus watched as his mother moved, slower than Tom, slower than she should have been moving. The only reason he'd caught the misstep was because of his extensive lessons in both dance and fighting; he knew the steps by heart and only someone who had extensive practice noticing minute movements would have noticed the trip up.
Walburga Black, queen of the seven kingdoms, had missed a step. Hard-ass from birth, as Sirius would so lovingly refer to her, a woman who would treat even the most minor of mistakes done by a servant as one deserving of the death penalty. A woman who expected nothing but perfection had miss-stepped in a dance she had known since childhood. Regulus was now concerned, he stood with the rest of the nobles as the dance came to an end. They were all clapping, some cheering but many remained silently polite.
Regulus glanced towards Bellatrix, she appeared unconcerned, completely focused on the royal pair before her. Her smile stretched across her face with the barest hints of maniacal glee in her eyes. He turned his attention back to his mother, but the couple were moving towards the door, the king's guard escorting them out. He wanted to follow, wanted to check on his mother, to ensure her safety, for even if he despised her he couldn't stop his traitorously soft heart from caring about her. He wanted to ensure she was alright and that her miss-step had been a simple mistake, nothing more, nothing less. But as he stood there, frozen in motion, he watched them draw closer to the door. He wanted to move but what if there was no issue, she would take his interruption as a sign of impertinence, and then he would be punished accordingly. There was a chance he was already going to be punished in the morning, did he really want to make it a certainty?
His thoughts sluggish at first, moved faster, and faster and his mother drew closer to the door. His hand twitched at his side. He wanted to reach out. To check. To stop the flood of noise in his head. He couldn't. He was stuck in place, drowning in his own mind while the world around him moved. His mother looked like she was leaning pretty heavily on Tom as they made their way to the entrance of the hall. A thought flittered by that she had drunk quite a bit, but she drank a lot all the time and never once was it like this.
Regulus felt as if his chest was tightening as if there were some invisible force restraining him. Vaguely he had wondered to himself if this was an overreaction. If he was so cowardly he couldn't even step up and talk to his mother. The world outside of his mother, Tom and himself blurred into a mix of colours and sounds. Unnoticed. Unimportant.
He remained frozen as the couple had reached the door, stepping through the threshold. Walburga turned her head, her eyes meeting Regulus' own and for a moment he had hoped she would be met with her harsh glare but instead, he saw a clouded sort of fear.
His mother was many things but afraid was not one of them. The tight clammy feeling in his chest was drowned out almost instantly by that look in her eyes. He felt a sense of dread trickle down his spine, the cold feeling pressed into his body, he had been slightly worried before but now he was truly concerned. He stepped back, he needed to catch up to them, needed to talk to his mother, needed to do something. All he really wanted to do was run, he glanced back at his mother not having realised he'd stopped watching her, he had been so caught up in the tidal wave of emotion that had swept him under.
His mother and Tom had stopped just outside the door way bidding everyone fair well with a wave of their hands. His mother had turned her face to Tom having whispered something to the man, he replied with a nod of his head and when they both looked forward Regulus felt foolish. His mother looked out at them as if every single person in the hall were so far beneath her they should thank her for granting them the ability to be seen with her. Her eyes were cold again as if there might not have even been anything there to begin with. There was not a single trace of anything wrong with his mother. She even sent him a disapproving glare. The two turned and fully left the hall, walking off followed by the King's guard to go and consummate their marriage.
When the last of the King's guard had left the hall Regulus slumped back into his as the other nobles began to truly enjoy the flowing wine and good music. He wondered if he had imagined her fear. If he had simply deluded himself into believing this situation was so wrong that his mother had something to be afraid of.
Regulus could finally breathe properly again, there was no stuffy feeling, no icy dread trickling down his spine, only relief and a bone-deep exhaustion. He had slumped into his chair and for a moment he cared not for how others saw him.
Clawed fingers dug into his skin as a hand rested upon his shoulder. He instantly straightened but the hand didn't loosen and he glanced up. There Bellatrix stood, looming above him as if she were some type of avenging creature, come to eat him alive. He wouldn't be surprised that was her real goal, not with the sickly sweet smile that was back on her face. He sighed, "If you're only going to loom over me like a vulture, leave."
Bellatrix's smile fell away from its predatory quality as she responded, "You look like shit. Run along to bed and let the adults enjoy the festivities."
He glared up at her unwilling to admit that he was, in fact, tired, he stood up standing, no longer having to crane his neck to see her face, "I may be young but I'm not a child. You also don't have the authority to send me away like a dog."
Bellatrix laughed, beginning to pull him away from the table towards the doors too. Her entire face had changed to one of smug satisfaction as she spoke, "Oh but you look just like a lost puppy. A poor baby unable to make its way in life without being told what to do."
They moved around the edge of the dance floor, both unwilling to be dragged into dancing at that moment. He sent his best glare at her hoping she would feel his resentment like one would feel the harsh heat in Dorne. He spoke with as much venom as possible, "Say shit like that again and I'm going to carve your tongue out."
Bella just laughed at him, "The baby of the Black family is grumpy because he's so sleepy."
Regulus pulled his arm out of her grasp, stopping dead as they arrived at the entrance to the hall. She turned to face him, frowning at him, clearly annoyed that he would pull away from her. He would never admit it to her but he was glad to be leaving the feast so soon, he didn't know what he would do if a fool like James Potter approached him for a conversation. He turned away from Bella uncaring of what else she might have to say as clearly everything she was doing or had done tonight had been to start a fight, for what was a banquet without some good old Black family feud being played out. He was already in trouble with his mother he would rather not add another, although minor infraction to her list, providing her with all the more reason as to why he deserved a punishment for simply existing.
Regulus walked away, he walked away from Bellatrix who still stood in the entrance hall, and he walked away from Narcissa, whom he had hoped to have a conversation with. He walked away from James Potter and every reminder of Sirius the older boy symbolised. He left James Potter behind with his stupidly beautiful smile.
Regulus stopped dead in his tracks at the thought, he worried for a moment he was possessed but that couldn't be. But then why would he think of something so ridiculous, James Potter having a nice smile? Preposterous, a figment of his imagination more likely. He picked up the pace again hoping to leave such absurd thoughts behind him in the hallway.
He did not run to his rooms but he did not stroll either. There was a guard posted outside his rooms, one of the newer recruits as Regulus did not recognise him. He entered his room after a small acknowledgement of the guard's presence at his door.
His room remained the same as it always had been. Dark sheets and a dark wooden bedframe, a canopy of equally dark material created a barrier between his bed and the rest of the room. A wardrobe, bookshelf and desk; all made of the same wood. It was a clean room and remained mostly neat except for the papers on the desk and some books out of place. There were a couple of papers on the floor. Papers that weren't on the floor when he had left. warily he picked them up checking around the room for perhaps a hidden assailant. He found none at first glance. The shadows were longer in here, darker, as there were only two candles lit in the room, one by his bed and the other on his desk. He placed the papers back on the desk, before turning and heading to the door. Opening it, he was almost immediately greeted by the guard, "Your grace is there anything I can do for you."
"Tell me," Regulus asked, voice clipped, "Did anyone enter my chambers while I was gone."
"No, Your Grace, not that I'm aware of, no." The young man replied. Regulus nodded turning back into his room.
He bolted the door behind him this time, unwilling to take the risk of leaving it unbarred, even if there was a guard right outside his door. He sighed heavily leaning back against the door for a moment before moving to get changed.
He was tired. Tired of life and often he wished he could simply rest for eternity, that way he wouldn't have to face the pain that would surely follow every single one of his mistakes. He changed into his night clothes and put out the candles, stopping in the dark by his desk as the moonlight shone faintly into his room.
The night sky spread far and wide beyond his window as he searched out the constellations that made up the map of stars. He searched for his constellation and star. The members of the Black family were named after the stars as it was believed their blood carried a type of magic in it. One of destiny and fate, one that made them closer to gods than humans. So every child was named after a star, one to represent the destiny they would walk in their lives. Regulus didn't know if he believed in destiny. He didn't know what he believed in, only that out there somewhere there was a god and whoever they were, they were laughing at his misery.
The thought made him tear his eyes away from the map of destinies above him. He blew out the candle next to his bed and lay down on his back. He didn't want to think as he lay there in the darkness, he didn't want to consider the possibilities before him but his mind was already moving faster than he could stop it, it was already wandering away from him. He wondered if it was destiny for both Narcissa and Bellatrix to be trapped in loveless marriages. He wondered if it were destiny that his brother, the only one he believed capable of truly changing the house of Black for the better died young. He wondered if it was his fate to remain trapped under his mother's thumb. If his fate was to be a puppet king while the likes of Walburga and Tom pulled on his strings. He wondered if he was always destined to be a coward and if in some cruel cosmic joke, he was named after the lion constellation.
His thoughts drifted, and he floated on the edge of sleep. Rolling over onto his side and curling up he couldn't help the childish, innocent, part of him that wondered if his brother were alive, would he also be watching the stars? Would he gaze up at them with the same sort of loneliness Regulus did, hoping to find his place in a turbulent world? Would he try to find his constellation, to find meaning in his life? Would he search out Regulus' star, would he find it in moments of grief and be comforted?
Would he do as Regulus' did and whisper his fears to the sky in hopes he'd find the bravery Sirius had? Regulus internally scoffed at the thought, Sirius didn't need to find his bravery, he was already the embodiment of it. Regulus was the cowardly brother. He drifted off, wondering if Sirius would've sought comfort in the fact that as vast as the sky was they would've both been string at the same stars.
He wonders if Sirius were alive and he was the one that died; if Sirius would've found comfort in the stars the same way he did on lonely nights like these?