Rouge, Noir et Blanc


There are three classes of people: those who see, those who see when they are shown, and those who do not see. - Leonardo da Vinci


There were three of them, one more beautiful than the other. There were three of them, branches of the same tree, yet as different as the summer, winter and fall. There were three of them, as unyielding as gold, diamond and platinum. They were night and day and dawn, unmatched by any other in the span of their lives. There were three of them and they loved each other dearly and madly and fully as only sisters may; alas, they were destined for great deeds and great pain to come along, and before the story was to conclude, death and heartbreak shall prevail – but we are not there yet.

There were three of them who bore the noble name of House Black.

With name such as theirs, feared amongst many, whispers were never quite shushed. Dark words bring dark times, they used to say. The name matches the soul, they whispered. Never aloud, never too close, though always within hearing distance.

With their first cry into this world, on the days of their births, they inhaled the first breath of air and their names were spoken proudly in the birthing room – and with them, the curse of the name came forth without mercy. Blackest of the abyss enveloped the sisters, impossible to deter and too enticing to completely turn away from, a darkness they would not be aware of until it was too late.

Bellatrix Luella Black. (Bella.) The Warrior.

Andromeda Myra Black. (Andie.) The Punished.

Narcissa Ursula Black. (Cissy.) The Vainglorious.

Each of them shall leave their own path, one of destruction, one of sacrifice, one of love – or was it all of them perhaps, all three that destroyed and sacrificed and loved in their own ways, with all their power and knowledge and innocence?

Lines that one draws may start out as clear, sharp, coal-coloured straight hand movements, yet sooner or later one's hand will start to shake; a bug shall fly around one's head and cause a break in concentration; an old memory shall spark a tide of tears which will create a smudge; the wind will blow and move the paper by just a fraction; the ink will run out; in the aftermath, the sharp coal line will end up smudgy, grey and uneven. So one should not presume to understand that of which he has no deeper knowledge, nor judge the characters by merely black or white. Nothing is dichromatic in the world plagued by such many misfortunes; shades of grey are the most prominent ones, but what one must thrive to is that unexpected splash of colour amidst the obscurity, the violets and blues and yellows and greens and red.

This is the story of the three sisters, condemned by their name, seduced by their importance and betrayed by each other out of love? hate? pride? sense of obligation? human nature? misguided ideals?

This is the story of the Black Sisters.


AN: So... yeah. I hit a wall with The Dragon and The Bear and Lilac Tree, and this came up out of nowhere. I already have couple of chapters written, and a rough outline. It won't be long, and it won't be pretty. I hope you guys like it.

As soon as my muse hits again, I'll update the other fics. I just don't know when. Hopefully, it'll be soon; I'm working on it.

I appreciate the reviews and your opinions, and thank you for your patience with me.

Love, Akira