Disclaimer: partly inspired by a tumblr post i saved at some point
Note: The colour 'lemon' is associated with happiness, optimism, and healing.
Written for
Quidditch League Round 6 Wigtown Wanderers Chaser 3: Regulus/Antonin {[dialogue] "Is that really what you want?" ; [action] tripping over something; [colour] lemon }
...oOo...
Regulus cast one last glance around the room. Only the cooling body on the floor lay out of place. They would know who had done it, of course - 'who' in the vaguest sense. There wasn't a need to leave their calling card anymore, but it was standard and Regulus saw no need to stop the tradition.
The black fleur-de-lis sank into the carpet next to the cooling body.
The Blacks prided themselves on their family reputation - famous amongst the quieter circles, but no one knew the identity of any single one of them. The only exceptions were their future spouses, but even those were rare cases and they never met the entire family. Maintaining secrecy was easier when everyone involved learned the rules from birth.
As he slipped out the window, Regulus sighed in relief. It should be his last contract for a while. Things had thankfully been relatively quiet. He would get at least a month's rest. Hopefully he could escape his mother's nagging about finding a spouse for just as long.
...oOo…
"It came in while you were out."
Regulus stared at the parchment, desperately wishing it would disappear before his eyes as his mother watched from the door.
The Crown Prince.
It was an assignment Sirius would have been given, had he not left the family without a second glance. Regulus couldn't help but silently curse his older brother, or at least desperately wish to sock him in the face. It would be even better if there was a lemon-coloured bruise target already there. Regulus wasn't sure if he would be happy with just once, or if he would gladly attempt several more before Sirius was able to recover.
It had been two years. Sirius would never have maintained his skills with how vocal he had been about the job.
He had been so close to a nice, well-deserved holiday, but his mother knew him too well.
Regulus had heard the worst of the reputation the Crown Prince had, and there was no way his conscience would allow him to reject this contract. Crown Prince Antonin was known as the Prince of Optimism, but how could you be optimistic while essentially bankrupt? It was an open secret that the Royal Treasury had been running dry for months. There were only a few ways that could happen within a single generation, and none of them bode well for the Crown Prince, who was always tasked with maintaining the treasury when given the title.
It was supposed to show the Crown Prince was responsible enough to lead the empire.
It was meant to grow.
At Regulus's resigned expression, his mother smiled.
"You'll set off within the week," she said as she left him to his wallowing.
Tomorrow, then. Not even a night to rest.
At this rate, Regulus was spending his eventual holiday tracking down his dear brother just to make his life miserable for a full month. Starting with dear Sirius tripping over a well-placed string trap onto a fresh pile of his favourite horse, Padfoot's, dung.
Ideally in front of that baker's son he was chasing.
...oOo...
The Dolohov rule was a strange one, especially in the recent years.
They hired no bodyguards, and only minimal help – a pair of cooks, a single butler, and a handful of staff for everything else – so they didn't even afford Regulus the ability to pretend to assimilate himself into the staff first. He just watched from the shadows of the great many empty rooms and corridors.
Regulus expected opulent meals, excessive spending, and the staff unhappily muttering to themselves when no one was looking.
Instead, he heard the worried mumblings of the staff, and a truly horribly thought out plan of helping the Dolohovs. Regulus heard the stories of how the money in the treasury was used to pay off the growing loans that had been taken by the previous and current Kings, and the little that was left was used to support a few of the orphanages and schools that had been opened recently.
Someone wanted him dead. There must have been a reason for it, and Regulus was determined to find out whatever secret Crown Prince Antonin held.
...oOo...
Regulus found nothing.
He saw Antonin welcome the homeless into the palace in exchange for their help cleaning up the palace and maintaining the grounds.
He watched Antonin and his sister, Zoya, clean up after themselves when the rest of the staff were busy.
He silently listened in on all of Zoya's lessons, taught by Antonin himself, that included information that wasn't just restricted to the princess role.
All he saw was kindness and caring – an intelligent Crown Prince that should never have ended up in the situation he was in. There were no secrets in the shadows, except maybe the missing King that sent the occasional letter from wherever he was.
Regulus wished he could observe more, but he was running out of time. He'd been given two months, and he was already down to the last fortnight.
"Ah, you're here. I thought my request was rejected," Antonin said, looking up from the papers he had been going through. The quill was immediately set aside.
Regulus was about to step forward but rapidly aborted as his mind processed everything, and ended up tripping over his own feet.
"Your request?"
Antonin nodded, moving to help Regulus up. Regulus stepped back immediately, returning to the shadows despite Antonin having already seen his face. He would much rather bask in his embarrassment in the shadows, but Antonin didn't even snicker.
"It's the easiest way to refill the treasury."
"Isn't that some kind of fraud?" Regulus spluttered.
In all his ten or so years in the job, Regulus had never even heard of a case like this. Sure, no one would find out – the Black family never told, and no one bothered to ask – but what.
Antonin gaped.
"You kill people!"
Regulus could give the Crown Prince that. Insurance fraud was probably the lesser of the two evils here.
"Is that what you really want? Have you thought about your sister? Your parents?"
Antonin stepped towards him, and for perhaps the first time in his life, Regulus stepped back from a target.
"My sister knows everything she needs to be the next ruler - a good next Queen. As Queen, she'll also be able to choose her own partner, instead of being forced into an arranged marriage. It's the best option." Antonin shrugged. "What's the least painful, but non-suspicious, way to go?"
"Have you considered faking your death?" Regulus threw out hastily.
The irony of an assassin convincing their target to live was not entirely lost on Regulus. Not to mention all the Black family rules on secrecy he would be breaking by having an outsider know him.
"Would that really work? I've travelled amongst all the poorer districts, trying to help them out. They would all recognise me easily, especially after all the work we put into those areas." Antonin frowned. "I would risk anyone finding me and causing an issue later on."
Regulus had two weeks.
He was sure they could make it happen.
He wondered how his mother would react to him bringing a man, his target, home.