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Regulus had never liked the stars.
The rest of his family praised the burning gas as it slowly flickered down to them, the slowly shifting colours mutating into a single white pinpoint glinting at them from far away. They praised it to the point they named their children after them.
Or at least, named the children after the myths that the stars in turn were named after.
The current Lord of the house, his father, was named Orion after the hunting constellation, forever looking down on the world below. It wasn’t a bad description of his father, who looked down on just about everyone from his carved throne at the head of every table.
Sirius, his brother, was named after the brightest star for he had once been theirs. The shiny hope for the continuation and the future of their family, the smartest, the strongest. The seen.
Sirius was always seen, always shiny. Always dragging attention away from everything else. The focus must only be on the brightest star after all, the one who always lit up the night sky. An instantly recognisable ball of bright white light.
Regulus, however, Regulus…
His star, or rather stars, fit him too didn’t they?
His stars were too weak to be seen without aid most nights, barely even glinting to a fraction of his brothers light. Their pale white glow softly illuminating the sky around them just enough to be seen and discarded just as quickly.
Not old enough to know better and not young enough to have a chance to change, Regulus spun so fast that any faster and it would destroy itself.
His family put such value in these stories, in the tales and the glinting glory they produced. After all, if your name is literally written in the stars, why shouldn’t you follow the destiny clearly laid out in front of you?
Regulus had never liked the stars.
The heart of the lion had been thrown into the snakes den after all.