The Reluctant Royals
The hideout was a capsule of time, a small room underneath the stairs leading to one of the more forgotten parts of the castle. The place where the laughter and dreams of two young boys still echoed off the walls. It was a small, circular room, the stone cool to the touch, with a domed ceiling that arched overhead like a protective embrace. The walls were a tapestry of their past, covered in drawings and scribbles from when they were children. There was a crudely drawn map of an imaginary treasure island, the X marking the spot still bold and defiant. It was their refuge, their secret corner of the world where the titles of ‘prince’ and ‘noble’ held no power.
Sirius’s gaze was fixed outside the window, the glass slightly fogged from the difference in temperature. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, all centered around the gala. He despised everything it represented—the opulence, the deceit, the way it made a mockery of genuine human connection. It was a parade of vanity, where the rich and powerful preened and postured, their conversations as empty as the clinking glasses they held.
Regulus, his younger brother, was the antithesis of the gala’s extravagance. He sat in a high-backed chair, his posture relaxed yet inherently regal, a book resting in his lap. His eyes, a shade darker than Sirius’s, flicked up from the page, a silent question in their depths.
“Another night, another farce. Do you ever wonder what it’s like to attend a gala and actually enjoy it for once?”
“I try not to waste my thoughts on the inevitable,” Regulus answered, eyes back on his page.
“Ah, but that’s where you and I differ, dear brother. I like to indulge in the fantasy of a gala not swarming with sycophants and stuffed shirts.”
Regulus sighed and looked back up, dark gray eyes meeting a lighter stormy shade. “And what would your ideal gala look like, Sirius? A room full of rebels and outcasts, all too busy being ‘genuine’ to notice the gold on their plates?”
Sirius smirked, “Exactly! You get it. Minds and spirits, not titles and lands.”
“Spirits, maybe, if you mean everybody absolutely drunk. As for minds, I doubt you’d find many that could keep up with yours, even if you do a remarkable job of hiding it.”
Sirius was the first to break eye contact, looking outside the window again. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I’ve met a few people who see beyond the Black family façade.”
Regulus' gaze fell down, picking at the loose threads of his blazer. “Yeah well, that doesn't change much, does it? We’re still here, bound by blood and duty to a family that sees us as little more than ornamental swords on a wall.”
Sirius chuckled. “You read too much, you know that? But if we are using metaphors I'd say more like ornamental peacocks. At least swords have a point.”
“A point which we are never allowed to use. We’re to be seen, not heard—unless we’re echoing the sentiments of our dear mother.”
Sirius finally looked back, instead looking at the crooked bookshelf filled with old dusty books and little trinkets they collected over the years. Sirius made that shelf himself when the small stack of books in the corner started increasing rapidly. The bookshelf wasn't perfect, not in the slightest, each shelf had a different kind of wood he'd stolen that day, old nails he took off furniture and other materials he stole from workers whenever he could. “Mother… She’s the worst of them all. Do you think she’s ever had a genuine emotion in her life?”
Regulus let out a small sound Sirius swore sounded like a laugh. “I believe she was genuinely angry when you set fire to the tapestry in the west wing.”
Sirius snorted and finally looked at Regulus. “That was an accident, and you know it. Besides, it improved the décor.”
“Only you would consider scorch marks an improvement.” Regulus retorted back, looking up from his sleeve to glance at his older brother.
Sirius only shrugged “Adds character, Reggie. Something this family could use a bit more of.”
This time the younger brother laughed, actually laughed, something Sirius hadn't heard in a long time. “We have character, Sirius. It’s just buried under centuries of tradition and expectation.”
“Well, tonight, I plan to be as characterful as possible. I might even dance with the duke’s daughter.” The older brother met his brother's eyes and wiggled his eyebrows.
Regluluses laughter sobered a little, his eyes meeting his brothers “You’ll do no such thing. You’ll stand by Mother and Father, smile, and make polite conversation just like I will.”
“You always know how to ruin my fun, Reg,” Sirius replied with a slight frown.
“It’s a talent. Now, if you’re done daydreaming, I’d like to finish my chapter before we’re forced to socialize with every noble on this side of the Thames.”
Sirius rolled his eyes “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you to your brooding. But remember Regulus, one day we’ll have a choice. We won’t always be the Black brothers, heirs to a legacy we never asked for.”
“Uh huh of course, until then why don't you leave me alone?”
“Reggie, one day you'll admit you love me, until then I think I'm gonna take a walk”
As Sirius left the hideout, his steps took him through the familiar halls of the Black castle. The walls were adorned with tapestries and paintings, each a silent testament to the family’s storied history. He passed suits of armour that stood like silent sentinels, their polished surfaces reflecting the flickering light from the torches.
He found himself at the entrance of the Black's infamous library. The place was a grand chamber, its high ceilings lost in shadows, the shelves reaching up like the gnarled fingers of wise old men. It was a place of solace for Sirius, a haven where the weight of his name didn’t press down on him. The scent of leather and ink was a balm to his restless spirit.
He wandered to the back, where the maps were kept, his fingers trailing over the parchment. Each map was a doorway to another life, a life where he was free to roam the seas and explore the unknown. He remembered the hours he’d spent here as a child, the world unfurling before him in a tapestry of lines and colors. It was here that he’d dreamt of adventures, of a life untethered by duty and expectation.
A map caught his eye, tucked away as if forgotten by time itself. It was old, the edges frayed, the ink faded in places. But it was the drawing that captivated him—a depiction of lands he’d never seen, of places that whispered of secrets and stories untold. It was an irresistible lure, a siren’s call to the wanderer in his soul.
He was about to study it further when the clock’s chime reminded him of the evening’s obligations. With a reluctant sigh, he folded the map and slipped it into his pocket, a piece of a puzzle he didn’t yet understand.
The sun had begun its descent, casting a golden hue over the Black castle, as Sirius and Regulus retreated to their respective rooms to prepare for the evening’s gala. The grandeur of the event did little to lift their spirits; if anything, it was a stark reminder of the life they were shackled to—a life of appearances and hollow pleasantries.
In Sirius’s room Sirius stood before the mirror, his reflection staring back at him with a mixture of defiance and resignation. “I swear, if I have to endure one more of these events, I might just just jump out that window and welcome a life of crime” he muttered to himself, adjusting the high-collared shirt that felt like a noose around his neck.
Regulus, already dressed in his black-tie attire, leaned against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips. “And leave me to suffer alone? How very noble of you, brother.”
Sirius turned a wry smile on his face. “Noble is the last thing I want to be. Besides, you’d probably enjoy the peace and quiet without me.”
Regulus walked over, helping Sirius with the stubborn cufflinks. “Peace and quiet at a Black family gala? You must be joking. It’s like walking into a den of vipers.”
Sirius chuckled. “Well, when you put it that way, it almost sounds exciting.”
The Walk to Meet Their Parents As they made their way through the opulent halls of the castle, the weight of the evening pressed down on them. The walls, adorned with ancient tapestries and portraits of stern ancestors, seemed to watch them with silent judgment.
Their mother, Walburga, awaited them in the grand foyer, her expression as cold as the marble beneath their feet. “Sirius, Regulus, remember who you are tonight,” she said, her voice sharp as the edge of a knife. “The Black family name rests on your shoulders. Do not embarrass us.”
Sirius felt the familiar clench of anger at her words, but he swallowed it down, offering only a curt nod in response. Regulus, ever the diplomat, replied with a measured, “Of course, Mother.”
The Black castle stood like a sentinel against the twilight sky. The ancient stones held the whispers of a thousand years, and the ivy that clung to them seemed to hold the secrets of the ages. It was a fortress, a home, and tonight, a lavish host to the gala.
As Sirius and Regulus approached the grand entrance, the former couldn't help but feel the castle's oppressive presence. It was a gilded cage, magnificent and suffocating in equal measure. The heavy oak doors stood open, welcoming the guests inside.
The ballroom was a vision on its own, with crystal chandeliers casting a warm glow over the sea of nobility. The air was perfumed with the scent of exotic flowers, and the murmur of conversation was the evening's soundtrack. Servants glided through the crowd, offering trays of champagne and delicate hors d'oeuvres.
Sirius stood beside his family, his smile practiced, his eyes scanning the crowd. He exchanged pleasantries with the guests, his words as polished as the marble floors they stood upon.
A short chubby man in a green and gold suit walked towards him, champagne in one hand while the other extended in a welcome gesture.
"Ah, Sirius, always a pleasure to see you. You look... dashing as ever."
"Thank you, Lord Slughorn. The pleasure is all mine. I trust the family is well?" Sirius plastered a smile.
The chuppy man nodded as he replied "Quite well, quite well indeed. And yourself? Any exciting ventures on the horizon?"
"Oh, you know, the usual. A bit of this, a bit of that. Life's too short for monotony, wouldn't you agree?" Sirius continued to smile with a hint of mischief in his eyes.
"Indeed, indeed. A young man like yourself should enjoy the... finer things in life."
"Absolutely. After all, what's life without a little adventure?"
As the conversation drifted to a close, Sirius's gaze returned to the window, the stars just visible beyond the reach of the castle's lights. They were a reminder of the vast world outside, a world he longed to explore.