𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆, regulus black

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖𝟓: 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

Rune found herself in the confines of a room she had frequented twice before. 

Once, it had been a mere guest chamber in the sprawling estate of her friend Evan's father.

Now, it was her chamber. Evan, once her friend, now stood as her brother, and the man who once owned this estate was now her father.

The walls, adorned with rich tapestries cast an aura of regal elegance upon the room. A grand bed dominated one corner of the room. Its carved headboard, a testament to the craftsmanship of centuries past.

Beneath her feet, a plush rug sprawled across the polished wooden floor, its intricate patterns hinting at a deeper magic woven into its very fabric. With each step, Rune felt the faint thrum of ancient energies pulsating beneath her, resonating with the beat of her own heart.

Beside the bed, a side table stood sentinel, adorned with a delicate crystal vase. Within its transparent vase, freshly picked flowers breathed life into the room.

At the window, billowing curtains of deep crimson velvet framed a scene of unparalleled beauty. Beyond the glass, the sprawling grounds of the estate stretched out in all direction. Manicured gardens danced in the gentle breeze, their vibrant flowers in bloom.

In this room, where echoes of the past mingled with the promise of the future, Rune found herself caught between worlds. 

As she took in her surroundings, two house elves shuffled in behind her. The older one, Alfie, whom she remembered from her previous visits, spoke in a voice filled with deference and respect.

"Master Rosier has bought what he thinks you need, Mistress," Alfie said, his tone deferential. "Mistress can let us know if she needs anything else."

Rune's discomfort prickled beneath her skin at the formality, and she shook her head gently. "You don't have to call me mistress," she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of uncertainty. "My name is Rune."

But even as she spoke those words, uncertainty gnawed at the edges of her consciousness like a persistent whisper.

Maybe it wasn't even her name. 

She had no idea. 

She could remember picking her name herself in the circus. Memories flickered and danced in the recesses of her mind, elusive and tantalizingly out of reach. 

Maybe Mr. Rosier- her father- had picked a name for her when she was born. 

Maybe he had called her by it before abandoning her in the woods and leaving her in the whims of fate.

Alfie's expression softened; lines of sympathy etched into the weathered contours of his face. "Miss Rune is our mistress," he insisted gently, his words a solemn affirmation of duty and loyalty. "Alfie and Hattie will address her as such."

As if summoned by the mention of her name, the younger elf, Hattie, stepped forward, her voice trembling as she addressed Rune.

"Master says to rest," Hattie said, her voice barely audible. "Mistress and the young master are to join him at breakfast tomorrow."

Rune's heart sank at the weight of her new title, each syllable a reminder of the chasm that separated her from the life she had once known. The familiarity of her surroundings offered little solace as she grappled with the reality of her altered existence.

"Thank you," she murmured. 

Alfie and Hattie bowed low in acknowledgment before scurrying off to attend to their duties, leaving Rune alone with her thoughts in the solemn stillness of her chamber.