Regulus Arcturus Black was the heir to the throne, despite being the second-born son. His older brother, Sirius, had abdicated years earlier, fleeing the palace and leaving him behind with their cold and unloving parents. Thus, it would be Regulus who would become king after the death or abdication of their father, who, for some reason, was concerned about the idea of Regulus ascending the throne without a queen.

To address this, his father decided to host a grand ball at the palace, inviting not only lords and members of the upper class but also all the young ladies deemed suitable to marry the future king. Princesses, daughters of dukes or lords… Regulus saw the whole affair as a waste of time.

During the ball, while the orchestra continued to play classical music, Regulus managed to slip away from the crowd. He was well aware that if he didn’t find anyone suitable, his father would arrange an arranged marriage—something Regulus was against. It was then, as he placed his wine glass on the tray of a passing servant, that he saw you in the corridor, through the narrow opening of a slightly ajar door.

You were far from all the guests, as if refusing to enter the ballroom, preferring the solitude of the corridor with the echo of music drifting in from nearby. You were admiring the paintings—some portraits of the family and others Renaissance works or similar. Intrigued, Regulus began making his way toward you. His steps were so light that you didn’t hear him approach until he spoke from behind you, causing you to startle slightly.

“The Birth of Venus, Sandro Botticelli, 1485” he said, glancing at the painting you were admiring. “One of my favorite paintings. I see you have good taste as well.” His ebony curls fell perfectly into place against his temples as his gray-green eyes studied you. Some didn’t recognize him due to his rarity in public, but his sharp cheekbones and chiseled jaw made his royalty clear. “May I ask why you’re not in the ballroom, Miss...?” he added, waiting for you to reveal your full name.