The manor was wrapped in a profound silence. Darkness spread through the corridors and gardens, broken only by the faint creaking of branches swayed by the wind. In the study, a nearly melted candle cast flickering shadows on the walls, barely illuminating Regulus, who was bent over an ancient parchment. Weariness weighed on his eyelids, yet his mind refused to rest.
Suddenly, a stifled sob broke the night’s silence. Regulus looked up, his senses instantly alert. Another sob, louder this time, made him rise from his chair, a sense of worry taking hold. With quick steps, he headed down the hall, immediately recognizing the origin of those cries: Azalea’s room.
When he arrived, he found the door ajar, allowing the moonlight to filter in. Azalea sat on her small bed, her face wet with tears, her dark hair tangled in locks, her little body shaking with each sob.
“Azalea,” Regulus whispered, quickly approaching and kneeling beside the bed. “I’m here, little one. What’s wrong?”
Without a word, Azalea reached out her arms to him, her face contorted in fear. Regulus immediately enveloped her in his arms, cradling her against his chest. His heart pounded as he felt her trembling. She was far too young to bear such big fears. He rocked her gently, stroking her hair with one hand and rubbing her back with the other.
“Shh, I’m here,” he whispered, his voice as calm as he could make it, though inside, he felt a pang of sorrow. “Everything’s alright, darling. Dad’s here.”
Azalea clung to her father’s robe, burying her face in his shoulder as her cries slowly faded. Regulus settled onto the bed with her in his lap, holding her close. Even when her tears stopped, the knot in his stomach didn’t entirely go away.
“Did you have a nightmare?” he asked softly, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand.
Azalea nodded, pressing closer to her father as if afraid he might disappear at any moment.
“Do you want to tell me what you dreamed about?” he suggested, tilting his head to meet her eyes.
She hesitated before speaking, her voice small and broken. “There was... something dark. It was chasing me, and I couldn’t find the way out. Everything was moving, and you weren’t there, Daddy. I couldn’t find you.”
Regulus’s heart clenched as he listened. He knew all too well what that fear felt like, that sensation of being lost and alone. As a child, he’d experienced many similar nights in the Black manor, where shadows seemed to consume him, and the coldness of the home made him feel insignificant. His parents had never come to comfort him; he’d learned to swallow his tears and hide his fear. But he had promised that Azalea would never know that kind of loneliness.
“I’m here now, and I’ll always be here,” he said with a firm yet warm tone. “I’ll never leave you alone, Azalea. No matter what.”
She looked at him with tear-filled eyes, but something in her father’s voice made her feel a little more secure. Regulus kissed her forehead, keeping her close. As he rocked her, however, his own memories began to resurface, making him relive moments from his childhood—the fear, the loneliness, the coldness of his family… It was a pain that still haunted him, a wound that never quite healed.
The silence in the room broke again with Azalea’s small voice. “Do you have nightmares too, Daddy?”
The question caught him by surprise. Her gaze was inquisitive yet innocent. Regulus hesitated, recalling all the nights he’d woken up drenched in cold sweat, tormented by memories. But he didn’t want to lie to her.
“Sometimes,” he admitted softly. “We all have nightmares now and then, even adults. It’s normal to feel afraid.”
Azalea watched him intently, as though trying to understand something far more complex. “What do you do when you’re scared?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
The question made him pause. He knew he hadn’t always dealt with fear in the best way. There had been nights when terror kept him awake, motionless in bed, afraid that any movement might accidentally wake Antonin and disturb him. But he knew that wouldn’t comfort his daughter.
“When I’m scared, I think about the things I love,” he replied, stroking her hair. “I think about you and how much you make me smile. I think about Antonin and how he’s always there to support me. I always have him there to help me feel better too.”
“You know, Azalea, being brave doesn’t mean you’re never afraid,” he said, keeping his voice soft but assured. “It’s about having the courage to keep going, even when you’re scared. And you, my little one, are braver than you think.”
Azalea snuggled closer, feeling that her father’s arms were a shield against her fears. However, worry still lingered in her expression as she whispered, “And are you always brave, Daddy?”
“I like to think so. I always do the best I can,” he replied, pressing his lips into a gentle smile. “But that doesn’t mean you always have to be brave. Being scared doesn’t make you any less.”
Azalea gazed at him for a moment, then nodded, her small body relaxing against her father. She closed her eyes, letting sleep overtake her again, calmer than before. Regulus held her in his arms until her breathing grew steady and slow. Carefully, he laid her back on the bed, tucking the blankets around her and kissing her forehead once more.
After that, he headed to bed himself, too tired to keep reading. He was exhausted, and it was already quite late. When he reached his room, the dim light of an oil lamp illuminated Antonin, waiting for him in bed.
Antonin was half-sitting up, his eyes sleepy but attentive. He turned toward Regulus as he entered, immediately noting the exhaustion in his face.
“It’s late, Regulus,” Antonin murmured, his voice soft and rough from interrupted sleep. He extended a hand, inviting him closer.
Regulus nodded slightly, too tired to speak. Still, upon seeing Antonin’s expression, he felt the need to explain, even if briefly.
“Azalea had a nightmare,” he said, his voice low and a bit faded as he began to undress.
Antonin watched him with eyes full of understanding, though tinged with a hint of concern.
“And you were still awake when you heard her?” he asked, his brow slightly furrowed.
Regulus looked away and shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about the hours he’d spent in his study, unable to sleep. He didn’t want to admit how hard it was to find rest amid his worries.
“Let’s just sleep, Antonin,” he finally said, setting the conversation aside as he moved toward the bed. He nestled close to Antonin, turning his back to him.
Antonin wrapped his arms around him without pressing further, pulling him close in silent affection. He could feel the tension in Regulus’s body, the way his breathing struggled to find a steady rhythm. So he did the only thing he knew would help: he began to gently stroke his hair, his touch filled with an almost instinctive tenderness.
“Rest, Reg,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss the top of his head.
Regulus felt the warmth of the kiss and closed his eyes. He pressed his forehead against his partner’s chest, finally letting the exhaustion overtake him.
“Thank you for being here,” he murmured, almost in a sigh, allowing himself to surrender to sleep at last.