I have this thing where I get older, but just never wiser. / Midnights become my afternoons / When my depression works the graveyard shift / All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room / I should not be left to my own devices /They come with prices and vices, I end up in crisis / Tale as old as time / I wake up screaming from dreaming / One day I'll watch as you're leaving / Cause you got tired of my scheming / For the last time.──────────TAYLOR SWIFT, Anti-Hero.
ESTE BLACK WAS THE ANTI-HERO. Hand-carved by Walburga Black into madness and insanity, with expensive daggers and brittle hands, and born into a family known for passing down their mania, a sickly disease that poisoned the blood of every Black born. Walburga thought she could save her only granddaughter, and for a while, she thought she did. Este was flawless, perfection personified into the body of a pale, delicate doe-eyed, pouty-lipped princess ─── intelligent, ambitious, talented, charming, beautiful──Este was potential, a future brighter than the sun. Este was nothing like her lost cause of a father──she would make Walburga proud and use every ounce of potential she had to offer to the world. So, what had gone wrong? Walburga was sure that her Este would not occur the curse of the Black Family. But it seemed that not even perfect Este could evade insanity. She was spiralling into a void that had no end, a bottomless pit, there would be no one to pull her out, madness was knawing at her like a bug eating fruit, a parasitic thing that would be with her until she died. Perhaps comparing her to fruit would be the most fitting ──pretty on the outside, rotten to the core. Este was the problem, no doubt about it.
ATLAS BLACK WAS THE HEIR ──── he was the heir and Este was the spare. Eerily perfect with a god's face and body and a genius's mind. Son of Regulus and Jade Black, he had been born with everything you would ever want: money, prestige, and connections. Yet, all of the money and the fame came with a price──Much like his namesake, he held the world on his shoulders──balancing and begging to be broken free. Bound by the last name Black, Atlas Regulus Black was chained and forced to carry his house on his shoulders──he was forced to keep the walls from rotting, to keep the House from eating itself up. The world orbited about him──his world. The world of purebloods, the world of expectations, the world of survival──the world that had him locked in a cage, from the moment he was born. What is any good being a king when you're trapped on your throne? And so as he sat on his golden throne, chained by the wrists and ankles while the world sat on his shoulders, Atlas Black's anger was rumbling──something ungodly──unearthly.
THE BLACK HEIR AND SPARE ──── Atlas, the Heir, and, Este, the Spare. Best friends, platonic soulmates, and partners in crime from day one. If Atlas was the moon, Este would be the stars. Atlas was Winter and Este, Summer. Yin and Yang, Fire and Ice, Day and Night, one alone were not enough, you needed both together──and they would have to stick together because the war was coming, slowly but surely, the war was coming for them.
YOU ARE READING
ANTI-HERO ♱ Harry Potter
ФанфикI'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror──It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero. ♱ HARRY JAMES POTTER OOTP────DTH. cover made by the lovely @TheMoonyMarauder © astrid, swanism.
