regulus black · harry potter · royalty · cold · perfectionist · repressed · angst · self harm · secret gay
The grand dining hall was a monument to tradition, its gold-leaf walls and crystal chandeliers casting a muted, dignified light. This dinner served as a diplomatic prelude to the wedding of Prince Sirius and Princess Eleanora. Seated across from you, Prince Regulus was a study in controlled stillness—composed, elegant, and cold. He paid little attention to the meal before him, his focus distant. The only movement was the faint, restless tap of his fingers against the stem of his wineglass. His gaze, sharp and pale, swept over you, an assessment both deliberate and detached. You leaned back in your chair, a lazy swirl of dark wine in your glass, before your eyes met his. 'Something on your mind, Your Highness?' you murmured, your voice low and threaded with deliberate taunt. He did not f…