The House of Black
“Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry.
All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.”
- Kai Rokowski
December 27th, 4:03 P.M.
The smell of wood burning lingered in the main hall of the castle. The halls were eerily quiet, the only noise being the light tapping of metal against a desk. A boy with raven hair sat propped on a comfortable-looking gray chair. His back rested against one of the armrests, the other armrest propped under his knee to lift his legs a bit. His outfit was simple, consisting of a white button-up, with a black vest over it, tucked into a pair of black slacks which were cuffed at the end. His eyes were a pale green, seemingly alert to everything happening around him. Despite the wavy, raven-colored hair that sat messily in front of his eyes, his vision was never interrupted.
A tilted crown sat on his head. Made from silver, and sharp to the ends. It sat tilted on his head, dangerously close to falling off. Every so often, he would move one of his hands up to push it up just enough so that it would not fall off. At first glance, he looked like a normal member of a royal family. That was until he was looked over more. A dagger sat in his dominant hand, a bit of the light from the chandelier reflecting off the silver. It looked freshly cleaned, the hilt wrapped in a black holder. The boy's reflection beamed off of the dagger, though he paid it no mind.
He fiddled with the dagger as if it wasn't something that could hurt him, twirling it in his hand, the sharp sides never once touching his skin. Another dagger sat on the table in the main room, the tip embedded into the dark oak. He had previously been holding it until he had shoved it into the table.
He wielded the dagger as if it wasn’t a weapon, but merely something as simple as a pencil.
The boy did not seem to be aware of what was going on. His eyes peered around the room slowly, scanning over the people who whispered and over the pieces of parchment on the table. He gave off the impression that he was unaware, oblivious to everything happening. Yet, he was more aware than most people caught onto.
“-need backup. He’s not going alone.”
The voice of a boy cut through the silence, invading his ears. The raven-haired boy looked up finally, forcing his attention to be drawn back to the conversation at hand. His eyes landed on another tan boy, his tawny brown hair - recently cut, it appeared - falling neatly atop his head. Bartemius “Barty” Crouch Jr. Not only was he one of his close friends, but he doubled as his guard.
Tuning back into the conversation, he glanced at the woman that the brunet was speaking to. Her hair was tied up into a neat and tight bun at the top of her head. The crown on her head looked much heavier than his own. She wore a heavy-looking silver necklace that fell around her neck. She wore a large black dress, the sleeves reaching down to her elbow. Her wrists were encompassed by silver bracelets that matched the necklace. Walburga Black, the queen to the Royaume de Blac.
“Regulus does not need assistance, Crouch, so I suggest you keep your thoughts to yourself.” Her voice was snappy, nasty in certain words, and up-tight in others. The prince rolled his eyes in response.
Regulus Black, the prince of Royaume de Blac. He was never meant to be heir to the throne, and yet here he was, left with all the responsibilities that came with that position. His brother had never wanted them, which he proved years ago. His brother didn’t even stop to consider what he might want. He had left without a second thought, and Regulus honestly couldn’t even blame him for that. He wanted to, and he did, but deep down he knew he shouldn’t.
“Do not speak down to Barty, mother.” Regulus spoke up finally, sending a small glare toward the woman, though she didn’t seem to notice it. “He is only trying to speak up for me since you won’t listen to me.”
Regulus knew he would get told off for the way he was acting. He always did. Yet, it was difficult not to do so when his mother never seemed to get certain things in her head - especially when they were things he tried forcing into it. He saw the look the woman gave him. She glared at him as if in warning, yet he continued to glare back as if to reaffirm that he was not kidding.
Barty smiled faintly at this, though the smile dropped as quickly as it had come. Regulus caught it, though, nodding a bit in his direction as a silent response.No words could be shared between the two, not when both the King and Queen stood in the room. Both boys listened as Walburga cleared her throat before continuing on her rant of how Regulus would not need a guard accompanying him.
“Do you truly think you will need a guard by your side, son?” she added, directing her gaze back to him. The look in her eyes told him to say no. But he already knew the answer that would fall through his lips.
Regulus glanced over at Barty, noticing the way the boy’s shoulders tensed, and the way Barty looked to him after the question had been asked. Regulus knew he would not need a guard, but he also knew better than to leave the brunette in the castle alone. It was known that his parents did not treat the staff in the castle with kindness, and Regulus had heard all of the stories from the boy assigned to be his guard about that. So he knew better than to leave Barty in the castle alone and unattended.
“I’ll need him by my side if you want me to go through with the plan your way.” It was a lie, but it fell from his mouth easily. It was one he used countless times that at one point or another, it would end up coming true. Barty’s shoulders relaxed again at this.
Regulus barely caught the scoff that left his mother’s mouth, yet he did notice the way she moved her hand a bit. It was something she did when she got annoyed or frustrated. It was something Regulus found himself picking up over the years. He just smirked a bit in amusement, the corner of his mouth flicking up as he twirled the dagger in his hand with ease.
“Fine,” The Queen shot out finally, “You may accompany him, Bartemius. Go and get your things ready, as well as Regulus’.” She raised a hand, shooing off the boy her son had picked as his guard. Barty seemed to listen to that, his footsteps quickly fading as he rushed out of the main hall and in the direction of the rooms.
Regulus turned his full attention back to his mother and father, watching as his father leaned over to whisper something to Walburga. He couldn’t bother to figure out what had been said. Instead, he stayed quiet and waited for them to say something more.
“You know what you need to do, right, Regulus?” It was his father’s voice this time.
The sound of his name caused the boy to meet his father's gaze. A much younger version of him would have cowered in response to his father, but he was older now. That version of himself was far abandoned by now. The words ran through the raven-haired boy, flipping it over in his mind.
Of course, he knew what he needed to do.
It was the same every time.
“I do,” he confirmed, nodding his head slowly. He turned his body so that his feet would hit the floor and so his back would be straight against the back of the chair. His back cracked in response to the change in position, reminding him of how long he had been in the previous position. “You don’t need to worry about me messing anything up, I promise. I know what to do.”
Regulus Black always stuck to his promises. Anyone who knew the boy knew what a promise meant to him. They knew how important it was that he kept them. He took promises seriously - more seriously than anything else, honestly. It started with his first pinky promise when he was much younger than he was now. There were a lot of those between him and his older brother.
I pinky promise I won’t tell mother or father.
I pinky promise we can hang out after, okay?
I pinky promise I’ll get you as many books as you want.
A moment in time when they would lock their pinkies, shaking their hands a bit as if it would strengthen the promise. That younger version of Regulus had hoped and dreamed that the promises would be kept. And a lot of times they were, don’t get him wrong. The promises had been kept for a few years after they were made. But as soon as his brother left home, they vanished.
Even still, Regulus Black took his promises seriously.
Both of his parents seemed content with that answer, which he was thankful for. He did not know what else he could respond with, ultimately deciding to stick with the easier choices.
“Good,” his father began once more. “You are to leave here at half past noon tomorrow to arrive in time to the Kingdom of Lleuad by half past five. You’ll be accompanied by Bartemius Crouch Jr, and another guard of your father’s choosing” he stated calmly, not giving Regulus a chance to interrupt the conversation.
A sigh fell from Regulus and he just nodded, deciding to go along with whatever his parents wished of him. It was easier than arguing with them. To him, it seemed like his words slipped out in their mind and were forgotten quite easily. It was something he had gotten used to over the years, and something he knew would never change. His parents hated change. They absolutely despised it, which is why he did everything in spite of them.
Regulus kept his mouth shut after that. The prince pushed himself off the chair he was seated in, his bangs falling in the way of his vision even more than they had previously. He nodded to both of his parents as a goodbye, before moving in the direction Barty had disappeared to just previously. He wanted to get away from his parents as soon as he could, not wishing to spend another single second with them. Especially because he had better things he could have been doing.
There was an entire list in his mind of things he needed to do before he left the following day.
1. Find a presentable outfit to wear to a ball, as well as a mask that would fit the theme he decided to go for. Which was then followed by 2. Make sure everything was packed. Next on the list was sleeping, though he found that hard to do. It acted as a constant chore looming over his head.
The walk back to his room was dead silent, the only sound being the small heels of his shoes where they hit the tiled ground, soft clicking sound ringing out through the empty halls. The walls were lined with old paintings, portraits of previous family members, as well as portraits of new ones too.
Never once would someone see a drawing from Regulus’ younger years. The boy had always liked to sketch and draw, yet he never had the time to do so anymore. A lot of his time used to be spent drawing and sketching, especially when he was out of classes. Despite this, he knew he would never see any of his sketches lining these walls.
“It’s not proper for a prince to draw the paintings that line his own castle,” was what his mother had always used as an excuse every time he used to ask.
He eventually made it back to his room. Looking around he realized how obvious it was that it was his room. The door was shut, and unlike the other brown doors that littered the halls, which remained undamaged, his was marked with numerous scratches and holes. That was due to the many times he had thrown his dagger at it for ‘target practice.’ His door also held a sign, pinned to the direct center of the door. A sign that read ‘R.A.B’ - his full abbreviated name.
As soon as he went to push the door open, he could hear shuffling from inside the room. Despite how much he tried to push it away, Regulus could not bite back the small smile that was trying to pull onto his lips. The corners of his mouth perked up, but that was the furthest he let it go. Peeking into the room, his eyes immediately fell onto the brown-haired boy who was folding clothes and pushing them nicely into a bag. Regulus couldn’t help but shake his head in amusement.
“Don’t go through all my things now, Crouch,” he called out cautiously, deciding to make himself known. Regulus finally stepped foot into his room. Similarly to how easy it was to tell by the door, one look inside his room made it obvious who it belonged to.
A large window sat on one wall, with a sill big enough to rest a blanket on. It was also big enough that Regulus could sit comfortably upon it with a book in his hand. He could doze off without worry of falling off. A black curtain covered it, though it had been pulled back halfway so that sunlight could flicker in. One wall was entirely covered in bookshelves, spanning from floor to ceiling. Old books littered the shelves, some much older than others. Certain books had faded spines, the titles barely visible at first glance. Other books seemed brand new and untouched. Candles filled in certain areas, as well as smaller daggers or weapons he could use for protection.
His bed sat on the opposite wall, a gray duvet pulled over it neatly. Three pillows rested upon it, two in the back and one in the front. There were never more than three pillows, and never less. He could only get comfortable when he knew there were three pillows. On the nightstand to the left, a journal sat under a lamp. It looked old, pages seemingly on the verge of falling out had it not been for how tightly wrapped it was.
The bedroom basically screamed ‘R.A.B’.
“You know I will,” Barty said, folding a white button-up, “because your parents would have a fit if they knew I was.” The joking tone in the boy's voice made Regulus relax a bit.
Upon entering the room, Regulus used the backside of his shoe to kick the door closed gently, shutting it with a soft click. The sign on the other end rattled against the wood for just a moment after. The raven-haired boy then turned his friend, and his guard, once more.
“What are you even packing anyways? Surely there is no need for any more clothes than what I will be going in?” he asked, his voice laced with confusion.
A loud laugh fell from Barty, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he gazed toward Regulus.
“Reggie, you can be so incredibly smart at times, but you have your moments.” He hummed, placing the folded-up button-up into the bag that sat on Regulus’ bed.
“No no, explain it to me. Why are we packing all these clothes Mr.Genius?” he scoffed, moving closer to the bed. Regulus moved to sit at the edge of the bed, bringing one leg up against his chest, and letting the other fall down against the side of the bed. He turned his attention back to Barty right after.
“Well, dear Black, if you do manage to do what your parents wish, and you end up with red on your clothes- hypothetically speaking, you would not want to wear those clothes anymore,” Barty spoke as if it was all hypothetical. “And if you preferred to not get caught, you definitely would not want to be wearing those same clothes.” A proud smirk sat on Barty’s face as if he had just cracked the code.
Regulus hummed knowing that Barty was correct.
“And where do you think we would be able to hide the bag?” He questioned, “Hypothetically, of course.”He liked knowing everything that might happen, wanting to be aware of all the possible outcomes.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that, Black. I have it all planned out already. You just have to focus on getting into the party,” Barty replied, finally zipping up the bag and moving to place it on the ground near the edge of the bed. It would be easy to grab it in the morning. He looked to Regulus who was already taking his shoes off.
“Do you have an idea of what you want to wear?” Barty questioned once more, watching Regulus stand up after he had taken his shoes off. He did not get a verbal response, instead being met with a nod from the younger boy. He smiled a bit and continued to talk despite knowing he would only get short responses back. “Go on then, show me.”
Barty would never miss an opportunity to see the prince in new outfits.
Regulus walked to his closet, his hands immediately pushing through clothes to find the outfit he typically wore out to balls and meetings in other kingdoms. The first thing he pulled out was a white button-up with long sleeves. It wasn’t super tightly fit, but it was enough to be considered tight. The second thing he pulled out was a black vest with an emerald green tie to go with it. The last thing he pulled out was a pair of black slacks, something he typically wore in his usual day-to-day.
“You’ll get to see the full outfit tomorrow, Crouch. It’s nothing that I wouldn’t wear here. I’m going for a simpler look, as it is a masquerade. Nobody will know who I am unless they have seen me before,” he explained calmly, moving to place his outfit neatly on his chair so that he would be able to go straight to it the previous morning.
“And you’re going to look bloody amazing, Reggie.”