chapter 5
Sirius woke up with a pounding headache. He had gotten wine drunk at the ball the night before and spend his night in between mindless conversations and drinking his senses away. His night ended with his baby brother stumbling into his room, gushing to him about his best friend. Sirius thinks it’s cute, and unfortunately, he’s afraid his brother may have a shot. James had always been fond of the boy even when things were complicated with Sirius and his family. He’s happy for whatever may happen with them, well happy and jealous.
See unlike his brother Sirius is the king, which simply means his life is not his own. Ever since he was born every minute from his first step to his coronation to how he would rule his kingdom, it had all been meticulously planned for him by his mother. Sirius loathes all of it, but its his duty his destiny. He really has no choice. He can just be glad his brother does.
Regulus being the spare had been sanctioned to live his life how he wished as long as his pursuits were still noble. Luckily for him he decided very young that he would grow up to be the best poet in the realm. And he did, along with being the crown prince Regulus was a very well published poet his works spanning across their realm and the next.
Sirius is immensely proud of him, well proud and jealous. Regulus gets to choose what he does Regulus gets to chose who he loves. Sirius does not.
On the morning after the ball Sirius was scheduled for his first ever portrait as king, even though he had been ruling for around two years his mother thought it best they wait for the portrait. Begrudgingly, Sirius pulled himself out of bed and dressed in the traditional robes of the king, his skin clenched as the same fabric which touched his father now rest on him.
Walking into the painting room he noticed the painter setting. The man sat with a hunch, in common clothes and a mop of fluffy brown hair sat on his head. He could see the canvas already set and primed and he silently observed as the man fiddled with the oils.
“Ahem,” the man’s head whipped around to face Sirius and oh, oh, he was quite beautiful wasn’t he, “you must be the painter,”
“Yes, pleasure to meet you your majesty,” the man approached him hand reached out to shake, Sirius took his hand the studied his face closer, and he was even more stunning up close. Sirius almost felt unworthy standing in front of him, even though he was the king and dressed in the finest of fashions, he still felt like the painter should be the one getting painted here, “if you would take a seat sir,” he said gesturing to his set up.
“What’s your name,” he asked making his was to the large chair. As he sat, he noticed the man giving an odd expression, “what?”
“Sorry sir but I’m just a painter you have zero obligation to know my name I don’t even know if I’ll be back here,”
“Still, we’ll be spending the day in each other’s company and I’m a talker during portraits, I’d like to know who I’m addressing,”
The man stared down at his paints and Sirius could swear he could see a light blush, “Remus Lupin sir,”
“Well Remus, let’s get on with it,”
Despite his awkward dementor Remus turned out to be wonderful conversation, they talked about a lot during the session. From books to Remus’ family and how he got into paintings. Sirius told him about James and how he loved flying kites as a kid. They talked about the latest in jousting and how Remus’ grandmother dabbles in witchcraft, and soon Remus warmed up enough to start addressing Sirius by his name. All lovely until Remus asked a question a little deeper than the rest.
“So, Sirius how does it feel like to be king of the realm,” Sirius went silent, Remus noticed, “Sir? Are you-“
“I’m a failure,” he blurted out.
“Sorry?”
“I’m a failure Reggie is the greatest poet of the realm and I’m a failure,”
“That’s quite a statement to make at 20,”
“Well father took all the vanity out of me, and mother made me realise I’ll never be a leader. So, I’m giving up all my foolish hopes of being a good king,”
“You shouldn’t give up my king you have so much potential,”
“Potential isn’t genius, and no amount of energy can make it so. I want to be great or nothing and I will not be some commonplace dog and I don’t intend to try anymore,”
“Sirus,” Remus said firmly putting down the paints and walking up to the king, “Sirius listen to me you are not a failure, no, no you’re not. Your brother may be a great poet, but you are a fair and just ruler and you care about your subjects. You care I know you do,”
“How?”
“Because no other king would let their painter get this close to them,” Remus says brushing a strand of hair that fell on his face. This is when Sirius realises that oh, yea they really are close. Remus is right up against the chair which Sirius is sat on, his hand still lingering near his face, “hell they wouldn’t even ask for my name.”