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Arcturus remained seated after Sirius and Bellatrix left his office. He accepted the card and papers their solicitor offered him, and he did not rise to see her out.
You know me.
Sirius’ words echoed in the room, in his mind.
You know the cards I am holding.
Arcturus had always let Walburga handle the children. She was the one interested in them, she had proposed the plan to turn them into celebrities, she had shaped the social power that the Blacks wielded so fiercely these last twenty years.
If you were in my position, would you be bluffing?
Arcturus leaned forward and pressed his intercom. “Miss Purkiss, clear my schedule for the rest of the day and inform my men of a critical meeting in three hours at Black Forest Hall. Have my jet waiting for me at the airport.”
“Yes, your Grace!”
Arcturus sat back and smoothed his hand over his jaw, then pushed his chair away from his desk. He gathered his briefcase from his wardrobe and slipped his files into it, then donned his overcoat and strode out the door. His driver was waiting out front, and the ride to City airport was uneventful.
Arcturus reviewed the paperwork on the flight from London to Manchester, and he made some calls with his own solicitor on the drive to the Hall. By the time he strode into his home office, he already had a strong suspicion of what he needed to do. However, such a threat against the family warranted a response from the entire family.
Cygnus was already in the office, setting up two of the large wall-mounted monitors for a video conference. Arcturus didn’t bother to mask his scowl. Video conferencing. Such a scourge of the twenty-first century. Convenient, yes, but you lost quite a bit of physical intimidation potential when your companion was four thousand miles away on a Mediterranean beach.
Sure enough: “Father’s in Cyprus,” Cygnus said. “It’s late for Orion, but he will call in from his hotel.”
Orion was in Japan, on business. Pollux was simply indulging in hedonistic pleasures on the family’s coin. Arcturus gave a grunt and a nod, sitting behind the massive walnut desk that had been his father’s, and his grandfather’s before him, and his great-grandfather’s, back and back and back.
“What’s this all about, may I ask?”
“I’ll explain it once,” Arcturus said curtly, lifting his hand to massage his temples. Cygnus nodded and moved to his liquor cabinet, pouring Arcturus and then, after a nod of permission, himself several fingers of scotch. He set the glass beside Arcturus’ elbow and took his usual seat at a nearby table.
Precisely five minutes before the scheduled meeting time, Orion’s connection shimmered to life. Like his father and cousin, Orion was seated with a glass of scotch, though his nightcap was in a well-appointed hotel room. Arcturus watched a silent communication through the screen between the cousins, as Orion tried to glean a mood from Cygnus and Cygnus had little to offer him in response.
On the other side of the spectrum, Pollux was five minutes late. Precisely five minutes late, to the second, far too accurate to be an oversight. If he weren’t so goddamn useful, Arcturus would have cut him off decades ago. His connection shimmered in with a well-framed beach in the background and Pollux lounging on a balcony, his legs kicked up on the railing, his camera somewhere between his knees. A glass of a lurid pink cocktail was delicately balanced between his fingers, poised to tumble at the slightest movement. Arcturus knew that Pollux’s grip on his booze was too secure to ever actually drop it, but the careless hold was bound to twist Orion’s anxieties tighter.
Sure enough, it was his son who spoke first. “Is that… an umbrella in your drink?”
“You should try it,” Pollux purred, touching his glass to his lips for a sip. Whatever colouring made his drink such an unnatural colour also stained his mouth darker. “It highlights the delicate undertones of the liquor.”
Orion stuttered briefly, his hand clenching around his own glass. Cygnus frowned at his own camera. “Father, really?”
“You are never too old for a Cupid’s Panties,” Pollux declared, naming his drink (Arcturus hoped). “You boys need to learn to embrace the joy in life before it’s too late. And speaking of joy, there are three lovely ladies downstairs whose embrace I had to decline for this meeting. Whatever is stuck in your craw this time, Ark?”
“You’re not in Cyprus for the sex,” Arcturus reminded him, but Pollux merely rolled his blue eyes.
“Yes, yes, I promise they’re all incredibly wealthy and well-connected. I know my duties, Ark.”
A non-titled cousin is good to keep around, Arcturus’ father had once advised him. Wield the family’s name without the attention…
Somehow, Arcturus doubted Sirius Phineas, his late father, had Pollux in mind when he said that. The younger Black was wildfire and folly, fucking, drinking, and partying his way around the world and under Arcturus’ skin. However, Arcturus couldn’t deny that for all his distaste in Pollux’s actions, his methods worked. His easy charm and Ganymede smile had done more to spread the Black influence across Eurasia and Africa than any amount of Arcturus’ politics or Orion’s business deals, and despite his flashy tendencies, the press did not dog him the way they did the titled Blacks. Pollux slipped through society first, securing favour to ensure Orion had an easier time with actual contracts.
There was one hellion in every generation of Blacks, it seemed. Pollux was Arcturus’ cross to bear. His son, Alphard, would have been Orion’s, but Alphard was gone now. Cygnus, while socially astute, had much more decorum than his father or brother.
Arcturus had always placed Sirius firmly in the category of hellion, but today’s play had made him revise his estimation of the boy. Of the man. When had his grandson grown up?
“Out with it, Arcturus,” Pollux said, his sharp voice cutting through his musings. “Little Ori is up past his bedtime.”
“It’s fine, Father,” Orion was quick to reassure. “I can rearrange my morning obligations if necessary.”
It was late for Orion, and none of these men enjoyed conference calls. Arcturus folded his hands on his desk and leaned toward his own camera. “A threat has been made against the Family today.”
Pollux gave an exaggerated yawn. “Oh god, is that it? Threats are made against us on a weekly basis. Destroy them and be done with it. You don’t need all of us for that. Cygnus is plenty.”
“We cannot destroy this one,” Arcturus said, not letting Pollux prick him into a reaction.
“Bribery?” Pollux asked.
“How much are they asking?” Orion sat up a little straighter, if that were possible, reaching for something, a mouse, perhaps. Yes, he was already clicking something, pulling up the Family’s accounts undoubtedly, his eyes skimming lines of numbers.
“They don’t want money.”
“Everyone has a price.” Cygnus’ input was matter-of-fact. Arcturus did appreciate having him around. Like Orion, Cygnus was very analytical and logical, but without the crippling anxieties. He had just enough of his father’s charm to be enjoyable, and a hearty dose of restraint from further back in the blood. “If this threat is severe enough for you to call for all of us…”
‘It comes from Sirius,” Arcturus said, enjoying the absolute silence that rang out from Pollux’s line. “And Bellatrix,” he added, supposing that Sirius had brought his “sister” along for a reason.
“Sirius?” Orion repeated after nearly a full minute of nothing. “How has Sirius threatened us? Why? What has he been doing?”
“You really do need to read more than just the business sections of the papers,” Pollux tsked, shaking his head.
“Cygnus?” Orion already looked to his cousin for support and clarification in moments of confusion. It was a good trait to have, Arcturus supposed, but not enough to give him hope in his son’s power when he rose to the family head in a few years.
“I told you Sirius and Bellatrix were… causing some difficulties-” Cygnus began, but Pollux cut him off.
“They’re gone, Orion. Sirius first, then Bellatrix. Fled into the night. We haven’t been able to catch them or cage them. Squawking up a storm on the internet, last I heard.”
“I… always let Walburga handle the children,” Orion said, apologetic despite his confusion. “I trusted she would let me know if there were a problem.”
“Walburga is… proud,” Cygnus said delicately, ignoring his father’s snort at his description of his sister. “She has been trying to find them, and would not want to report on a… a failure.”
“I see.” Orion released his mouse and steepled his fingers together in front of his mouth. “And now Sirius and Bellatrix have made a threat against the Family?”
“No wonder we can’t destroy them,” Pollux muttered. “Bribe them with their own money?”
“Their own money is one of the demands made,” Arcturus said with a nod. “They want their careers cut free from the Family and control over their own lives and finances.”
“They are part of the Family,” Cygnus argued, shaking his head. “They can’t be cut free without a scene!”
“That’s not all they want,” Orion murmured, watching his screen. Arcturus could swear he felt his son’s heavy gaze despite the nearly six thousand miles between them. “What else did they ask for, Father?”
“Regulus and Narcissa,” Arcturus said, and now it was his turn to ignore Cygnus’ noise. “They want custody of the youngest, claiming this family is unfit to raise a child.”
“If you called all of us here,” Pollux began slowly, sitting up straighter, his drink set aside as he decided to actually be serious for once, “then they have successfully delivered a genuine threat. You’re scared.”
“Concerned,” Arcturus admitted.
“That’s practically the same thing, to you.” Pollux blew out a slow breath. “What was the threat?”
“To destroy us. The Family as an institution.”
“Big claim from a little boy,” Pollux scoffed, but Arcturus shook his head.
“He claims years of abuse, documented. He says there is a child molestor, the very one who attacked Regulus all those years ago, in our service. And he has threatened to take all of the Family’s secrets and go public. He and Bellatrix have amassed quite a bit of social power and already have their fingers on the triggers. We acquiesce by noon tomorrow, or they throw the doors open to their… mistreatment.”
Mistreatment. It was a heavy word on Arcturus’ tongue, and not quite the right one. Sirius and Bellatrix had been far from mistreated growing up. They were the prince and illegitimate princess of the Family, waited on hand and foot. They were beautiful and gregarious and talented, given more opportunities than any previous generation of Blacks could have dreamed of. They each commanded more fame and power alone than the rest of the Family combined. They absolutely could make good on their threat, even if they chose to fabricate grievances.
But they wouldn’t have to fabricate them. Arcturus would be the first to admit he had not paid much attention to his grandchildren, but he did consent to the adoptions of Regulus and Bellatrix, to switch the children between family lines. It made logical sense within their walls, but the wider world would surely be horrified at mothers “trading” their children. And rehab… healthy ten-year-olds did not end up in highly secure and private medical facilities for drug addictions.
And that was just what Arcturus had noticed in all his years of not paying much attention to his grandchildren. Sirius had been loud and rebellious, hardly the sort of heir Arcturus had hoped for, and Bellatrix was not truly his granddaughter. She was an usurper, who had pushed out his true grandson, Regulus, who despite his damage was growing into a fine young man, quiet and studious, with Orion’s intelligence and Cygnus’ ability to communicate.
Regulus would have made a fine Duke one day, if he hadn’t been given away. But Arcturus had not realised the mistake at the time, and now it was far too late to pretend the trade had never happened.
The trading alone could be explained away. Rehab… was a tragic oversight of the Blacks not realising the damage of show business in children until it was too late, and then a drastic attempt to save Sirius and Bellatrix before their lives were destroyed. Greyback’s alleged crimes had been unknown to the Blacks when he was hired, and he could be easily dismissed.
No, it wasn’t those direct accusations that concerned Arcturus. It was the attention. Attention from the media of pop culture. Everyone in Arcturus’ political circles knew how the game was played. Knew how palms were greased, how favours were earned and repaid, how enemies were disarmed. Everyone knew the game, and knew that the biggest part of the game was not drawing attention to the game.
The pop culture media would not follow the rules.They would crash in and run amok, shedding light on things meant to stay in the dark. By sheer virtue of allowing this to happen, the Blacks would immediately become anathema. Their power would be destroyed, their holdings shrunk, and, if it went high enough, they potentially even risked losing more than just face.
Sirius and Bellatrix would, as Sirius already assured him, be fine. They had played their part well, keeping distant from the political aspect of the Family, growing their stardom with minimal overlap, so the worlds would not collide. Whereas once, Walburga had expressed this as a strength, to keep the pop stars away from the ill reputation of politics and to keep their name bright in the minds of the nation, now it was a double-edged sword, ready to swing and sever their head from their shoulders, with only the youngest left standing.
Sirius had sat across from Arcturus and issued this threat knowing the power he held. Knowing how to wield it. If it had been aimed at anyone but Arcturus himself, he would have been impressed. Proud. The rambunctious child who had once terrorised these halls had grown into a commanding young man starting to learn his strength.
“Noon tomorrow,” Pollux said. “They are not giving us any time at all.”
“Intentionally.” Arcturus massaged his temples. “They know of our own power, and will not let us-”
Cygnus held up a finger sharply, looking off to the side, cutting all of them off. He touched his finger to his lips and rose to his feet, stalking gracefully across the office. Arcturus watched as he approached a bookshelf and touched a book, then yanked, hard. The hidden door swung open and Cygnus struck, quick as a snake, hooking his fingers around the collar of their spy and hauling him into the room.
Regulus stumbled as he was pulled, but he met his adopted father’s eyes defiantly. Arcturus watched the two for a moment before Cygnus shook his head and touched the shelf to swing it back into place. “Eavesdropping, at your age?”
“It was a gathering of the Black men,” Regulus countered. “I should have received an invitation.”
“You’re sixteen.”
“But you’re talking about my future.” There was no amusement in Regulus’ scarred face as he looked around the room, giving Arcturus a nod. “Your Grace.”
Regulus was his grandson, the boy he had wished was his heir, but he never once called Arcturus Grandfather, or by name. He was always so very formal, deferring to Arcturus’ title or honourifics. Now, as Arcturus studied his unreadable silver eyes, he had to wonder how much of that was out of politeness, and how much was actually distance and disdain.
“Regulus.” Arcturus gestured toward the table Cygnus had been sitting at. “Take a seat with your father, so everyone can see you.”
Cygnus pulled up a second chair and arranged them so they were both in view when Regulus sat. With all four faces on screen now, Arcturus could clearly see that Regulus was Orion’s son. For all the similarities between the primary and secondary family lines, Regulus was cut from the same cloth as his true father. It was Sirius who could pass as a secondary Black, Sirius who had Pollux’s grin and Alphard’s talents, Sirius who Arcturus had always dismissed as lesser. Secondary.
Sirius, who had proved his primary blood when he bared his fangs at his grandfather and argued for what was rightfully his. Sirius who possessed both sides of the Family’s strengths, and whom Arcturus would be proud to call his heir.
For once, Regulus looked at Arcturus and Arcturus could read his face, the knowing expression the boy held. “You’d be a fool if you tried to call him on his bluff,” Regulus said bluntly. “Because he isn’t bluffing. You never bothered to take the time to get to know Sirius like I do. He wouldn’t make a threat he wasn’t entirely willing to follow through.”
“We’re not going to give away our children,” Orion said.
“Why not?” Regulus ducked his head, his hands clenching into fists in his lap. “You’ve done it once already. Father.”
“That is not…!” Orion’s words faltered, and his posture mirrored that of Regulus’, head bowed and hands clenched.
Arcturus rose to his feet, placing his hands on his desk. “Thank you for your counsel,” he said. “Orion, Pollux, good night. Cygnus, you may go. Regulus, stay.”
“Stay?” Cygnus asked, reaching forward to end the call.
Arcturus nodded once. “This does, after all, concern his future.”
Cygnus looked uneasy, but he rose and left the room as commanded. Regulus remained seated, watching Arcturus. Arcturus watched Regulus back.
“Did you know about this?”
Regulus’ chin raised defiantly. “I have been locked in this Hall for three years. I do not have Sirius’ phone number. Our emails are monitored. How could I possibly know about this?”
Arcturus fluttered his hand dismissively. “There are other means of communication these days. What’s it.”
“Whatsapp?”
“Did you know?” Arcturus repeated.
For all of his poise and restraint, Regulus was still just a boy. He buckled beneath Arcturus’ heavy gaze, dropping his eyes and giving a shake of his head. “I suspected. Sirius promised he would come back for me. But I did not know.”
“And Narcissa?”
“He knows I love her and would not leave her behind,” Regulus answered. “Bellatrix would also never abandon her sister to the same tortures she was subjected to.”
“Tortures is a strong word for some of the richest and most privileged children in the nation.”
Now Regulus met Arcturus’ eyes, and there was a dark emptiness in this boy’s gaze that seemed to consume the lightness of the room. “You don’t know what Walburga does to them,” he said, his voice somehow eternal and old. “You’ve never asked. But there’s a reason you’ve never asked. You’ve never wanted to know. Because you do know. You know what happens to children like them. Children who shine too bright and pretty in that industry.”
He wasn’t wrong. Arcturus himself had never bothered to get involved in those circles, considering them a depth too depraved, but he did know they existed. He had never thought about it in terms of his own grandchildren, though. Never wanted to think about it.
Never wanted to think about how the marks of that industry were already scrawled across Regulus’ body, and his youngest grandson would not be able to go a day without thinking about it.
Arcturus sank back down into his seat slowly, reaching up to rub his temples with his long fingers. Regulus spoke again.
“Accept his offer. I’ll talk to him. I’ll make sure he keeps from embarrassing the Family, at least intentionally. Let us go. Let Narcissa be a child. Let me sleep. Let us go, and I’ll protect the Family. I’ll give you my word. I know how to make Sirius bend.”
“You won’t need to,” Arcturus said, closing his eyes. “Sirius has already offered to protect the Family if we agreed to his demands. No one outside of the Family needs to know that you and Narcissa are anything but living with your famous cousins to experience the big city life.”
“Won’t?” Regulus repeated, and that old timbre was gone from his voice, replaced with something that almost sounded the correct age. “You’ve already decided…?”
Something that almost sounded like hope. Arcturus opened his eyes and looked at his grandson, who would one day be a fine support for his brother, the Duke Sirius Black. “You’re right. I did know. And it’s not just Narcissa who deserves to be a child. You do too.”
“I haven’t been a child in three years,” Regulus whispered.
“That’s all right.” Arcturus opened his eyes and looked at Regulus, and he found a smile for the boy. His family was not falling apart. It was growing stronger, twisted from its damage but more resilient than ever before. “I’m sure your brother will be willing to teach you.”