Broken thrones

Somewhere far Away…

A hooded figure sat in the dimly lit chamber, its very presence unsettling. Its voice, when it spoke, was an anomaly—neither deep nor high-pitched, neither male nor female, a voice designed to be forgotten the moment it was heard.

"So, you want me to do what?"

Across from the figure stood a young man, no older than his twenties, of clear Indian descent. His sharp eyes gleamed with intelligence, but his posture was casual, almost as if the situation didn't concern him.

"Isn't that, like, your job?" Rajveer Rathore asked, crossing his arms.

The hooded figure tilted its head slightly. "What you are asking of me is not something possible. And since not even one of your own bloodline could accomplish it, why have you come to me, Mr. Rathore?"

Rajveer smirked, unbothered by the skepticism. "You…" He exhaled, tilting his head as if assessing the figure anew. "What do you want in return? i heard you are known to drive a hard bargain."

The hooded figure let out something between a chuckle and a hiss. "Well…"

Back at the Black Mansion…

The air in the grand drawing room was thick with unspoken words as the Black family patriarchs stood in what could only be described as a tense truce.

Pollux exhaled, rubbing his temple. "So, I assume I must go on about what is expected from the Lord of the House?"

Arcturus rolled his eyes. "Yes, obviously, Pollux. What else would we be here for?"

Cygnus leaned against the doorframe, already half-turned toward the exit. "Better get on with it before they start trying to kill each other again."

Irma Black, looking unimpressed, simply scoffed. "There's nothing interesting here anyway." With that, she turned on her heel, already walking away.

One by one, the Blacks dispersed, retreating to their respective homes, their affairs, their games. It seemed, however, that in all their scheming and power plays, they had forgotten something rather important.

In a Corridor…

"Alphard."

He paused mid-step, turning toward his mother, Irma Black.

"Yes, Mère?" he responded smoothly, though there was the faintest trace of wariness in his voice.

Irma's sharp eyes bore into his. "You are said to be Orion's equal in the mind arts, are you not?"

Alphard smirked, but there was no humor in it. "I like to think so, Mother. Why?"

Irma's lips pressed together in a thin line. "That bloody bastard…" She exhaled sharply. "I think he's tampered with my mind. Do you sense anything?"

Alphard regarded her for a long moment before shaking his head. "I don't, Mother. And even if he did, what exactly do you plan to do about it?"

Her nostrils flared slightly, but before she could respond, Alphard added smoothly, "Fight him? Undo what's already been done? It wouldn't be wise. You know that."

Irma's hands clenched into fists at her sides, her jaw tightening in frustration. Without another word, she stormed off, her heavy robes sweeping behind her like a shadow.

Alphard, left standing alone in the corridor, let out a quiet chuckle under his breath. "I suppose I should count myself lucky to be on his good side," he murmured, his voice almost too soft to hear. His expression darkened slightly. "I never want my mind to be manipulated like that."

**

The meeting had ended, but the tension still lingered in the dimly lit Black family manor. The air was thick with the scent of aged firewhisky and fine wine as Alphard leaned lazily against the grand mahogany bar, swirling a deep red liquid in his glass. He took a slow sip, savoring the richness of it, when a familiar voice broke the silence.

"You seem to be enjoying that wine a little too much, Alphard."

Alphard didn't flinch at Orion's approach, merely tilting his head with a smirk. "Well, it is quite good. Say what you will about our ancestors being rich, arrogant snobs, but at least they knew how to be unbiased when it came to selecting their workers and… adopting certain strategies from the world around them, don't you think?" His tone was casual, but the weight of his words hung between them.

Orion hummed in vague agreement, picking up a glass himself. He didn't sip it, just turned it slowly in his fingers, watching the deep crimson swirl within.

"Well, Alphard… don't let the wine go too much to your head." Orion's voice was low, deliberate. "You know I trust you, right?"

Alphard paused mid-sip, his smirk faltering just slightly. He had spent his whole life navigating the intricate webs of the Black family, but there was something unnerving about that particular choice of words.

"Wait, wait—" Alphard set his glass down with an audible clink against the polished surface. "Is this one of your bizarre tests again? If it is, I'm out. You know I always hated those—" He stopped.

Orion wasn't looking at him anymore. His sharp, mercury eyes had darkened, fixed instead on the wine glass before him, but Alphard knew that look.

Something was happening.

Alphard's gaze flickered across the room just in time to see his niece, Andromeda, stare off into nothingness for a brief moment—her expression blank, her eyes glazed over as if caught in a memory that wasn't there. Then, as if nothing had happened, she resumed her conversation, completely unaware of the missing fragment of her mind.

Alphard exhaled sharply, gripping the stem of his glass tighter. "Seriously, Orion?" His voice was lower now, sharp with disbelief. "If you don't trust them, why tell them anything at all? And why in Merlin's name is it always me who ends up knowing your damn secrets? I hate it."

Orion finally turned to him, an amused glint in his eyes despite the tension that lingered between them. "Well, it does add to your already wonderful mysterious charm, Alphie."

Alphard stiffened. "No. Never call me that."

But Orion merely smirked and took a slow sip of his wine before continuing, his tone laced with lazy amusement. "You can handle it. Besides, all that mystery might even help you win over your darling Adele."

Alphard narrowed his eyes as Orion walked off, wine glass in hand, disappearing into the shadows of the manor like a specter.

Alphard ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "For one, Adele has always liked him, and I am starting to see why. And two…" He trailed off, shaking his head, realization dawning upon him.

"Wait… was that a threat?"

A pause.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake. Of all the families I could have been born into, I had to be born into this one." Alphard muttered under his breath, tossing back the rest of his wine in frustration.

**