king
Regulus is not even done with his second cigarette by the time Wallace finds him. Maybe Regulus needs to switch hiding spots again.
Wallace interrupts him with a polite cough to alert Regulus to his presence. Wallace always seems to draw the short straw when it comes to which servant is sent to find Regulus, but Regulus doesn’t mind. He thinks they’ve established a good rapport by this point. “Prince Regulus, his Majesty the King requests your presence.”
Regulus takes in a final long drag of his cigarette and snubs it out in the little ashtray he’s added to the third floor alcove he’s currently curled up in. He’s half tempted to put it out on the pristine crimson curtains instead, but they’re probably hundreds of years old and that might be grounds for execution. He doesn't know; he hasn’t read the constitution.
“Afternoon, Wallace. How pissed is he?”
“His Majesty is not pleased.” Which is code for really fucking pissed.
“Wish me luck.” Regulus sighs and pats Wallace on the chest as he walks past him.
Regulus adjusts his forest green tie and double checks that he hasn’t gotten any ash on his dark grey suit, as it was strongly suggested he dress up for the occasion. He has no idea why. It’s not like this is an irregular occurrence. He takes pride in the fact that he’s run off three personal bodyguards already, and “fourth times the charm” is not a saying for a reason. He’ll get rid of this one soon enough.
Plus, it’s not like the monarchy has any actual power. They were “figureheads of the country” and had a “great responsibility to act as such”. He’s heard the speech from his mother a million times. He could recite it in his sleep. He probably has a few times.
“Prince Regulus,” his father says in his I’m disappointed in you and we’ll talk about this later voice once Regulus meets him in the main hall.
“Good afternoon, father,” Regulus responds, ignoring the added tone.
“As you know, today you’ll be assigned a new personal guard. He comes highly recommended by the agency.”
“So did the last one,” Regulus mutters under his breath.
“I know Mr. Lockhart was not the correct fit, but I implore to try harder this time. I am not going through this process again. Do you know how embarrassing it is to be requesting new bodyguards for you every few months? If this one quits as well, you will not be permitted any extra curricular activities. You will be monitored to and from your necessary engagements and otherwise will remain in the house.” The and in sight is implied.
Regulus knows that’s not an empty threat.
Now that Regulus was done with university and back home, he had a list of royal duties to attend to. Which basically meant that he had to show his face at a bunch of events and kiss up to a bunch of annoying, rich people. But since he was in the public eye more often, he apparently required a personal bodyguard, also known as a glorified babysitter.
“Yes, father,” Regulus says, like a dutiful son. Alright, time to see which sucker he would be stuck with next.
His father gives him one final look and turns towards the side room where they entertain important guests. In the middle of it stands a man who looks to be a few years older than Regulus. Next, he notices the messy dark hair, big brown eyes hidden behind round spectacles, the easy going smile, straight white teeth contrasted against deep brown skin, the dimples - oh, Regulus was fucked.
James extends his hand for Regulus to shake. His hand is warm and Regulus can’t help but note how it envelopes his own. James’ smile somehow grows larger and really it should be illegal for that grin to be turned on a mortal human being.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m James.”
Oh yes. Regulus was so totally fucked.