Regulus & Bellatrix ;; Threads - Blog Posts

Bellatrix was more infuriating than his parents, at this point. Once he'd taken the mark and shown some initial devotion to the cause, his parents had backed off content in the knowledge that at least one son was doing the right thing. Without him being marked, Regulus would never have been allowed to move out of the family home, or take his job at the ministry which allowed him more freedom than he'd ever had. But Bella's care manifested in intense devotion, and he worried that he would never be able to get her to give up on this desire for him to be better than he was. All Regulus wanted to do was live his life in peace, and study the intricacies of magic at the Department of Mysteries. It would be a quiet life, but it was his - and that diverted from his family's view.

He was just thankful that they hadn't started pressuring him to take a wife and to continue the line.

Regulus knew his cruciatus would disappoint his cousin immeasurably. He had seen her wielding it on missions, and though he hated the curse, he had to admit that watching Bellatrix cast it was almost like an art form. Watching Bella lift her wand after his first poor attempt had panicked him, fearing that the curse was heading his way, and it was that panic along with his earlier fury that led to a slightly stronger second attempt though it was still poor.

His chest was heaving with the effort of casting even such a weak curse, sweat beading at his brow. "But I..." he trailed off, stopping himself. He had been about to say that he didn't love it, which was potentially the worst thing he could say in the presence of his cousin beyond confessing to his muggle-born lover. The rest of his thought was cut off as he stared down the end of his cousin's wand, pupils dilating in fear. He knew that he'd been poor, but he hadn't anticipated Bella torturing him for it. As red flashed, Regulus flinched away, shrinking into himself to try and protect himself from the inevitable pain. He could hear Bella laughing, and the sound sickened him. After a moment, he realised her curse had been directed elsewhere - and when he looked back at his cousin, there was something new in his gaze. The faintest hint of disgust, hidden behind the layers of fear.

"I don't need you to tell me it was poor, Bella. I know it," Regulus sneered, pushing away from the table as he stood. Thinking back on Rabastan's teaching Regulus dug into his confused emotions as he stared at his dishevelled cousin, and with his voice dripping with disgust he held his wand steady and cast "imperio." Tilting his head slightly, he went for the same command he had given Rabastan. It would upset Bella as much as it had upset Rabastan. "Your wand. Give me your wand."

Regulus was testing Bellatrix's patience. Truly, this was more demanding than any mission gifted to her by the Dark Lord. She could not torture the boy, and neither did she want to. She could barely manipulate him, since familial intimacy meant he knew her well. Force had not benefited her with Regulus and she felt that she was losing ground. It was a situation most perturbing and undeniably irksome. Her rage still lingered as he spoke reassuringly, her palms still splayed against the couch as though she were trying to ground herself. Yet even then, she managed to locate an ounce of pride, acknowledging that the boy did not give up easily. Regulus was proving to be a challenging project. He did want to learn and he respected the need to study magic further. She would give him that much. It was admirable despite his misplaced tutelage. Had she known that he had mastered Occulmency, she would have thought of him more highly. But she knew nothing of it.

"Very well." Arguing was going nowhere. She was growing tired and bored and frustrated. She wanted to move on. "As I promised, I will make no further demands after you show me your curses."

They were one curse down and she was looking forward to seeing his Cruciatus. By far her favourite of the Unforgiveables, Bellatrix wielded it with devastating adoration. Her skill with it was calamitous. It fed her sadism and brought her a high like nothing else. Nothing could compare - not sex, not drink, not even death itself. So when Regulus's spell danced from her dress without so much as even a feeble tickle, she sighed with dramatic disappointment and raised her wand to show him how it should be done. Fortunately for him, she hadn't expected his second attempt. It stunned her, crushing her back against the chair with something akin to an electric shock. Her shriek pierced the silence like a knife cutting silk, then she laughed wildly, gasping for air and sliding halfway down her chair as the spell receded.

There was pain. It did hurt. But not as it should. Regulus's spell lacked substance and finesse. Since her own wand had fallen to the ground, she reached down to retrieve it, her normally steadfast fingers trembling in the aftermath and her hair now askew at a tremendously jaunty angle.

"You didn't mean it, cousin. You need to want it. You need to love it." Wand now in hand, she directed it mercilessly between Regulus's eyes, wanting to see what emotions would reveal themselves in that flicker of an instant. Her breath was still ragged, her position still lopsided against the chair. Insane, some called her. But that was a lie told by fools and enemies. There was no madness within Bellatrix Lestrange. There was only pure, unadulterated awareness. She knew exactly what she was doing and she knew that she adored it. With a slashing motion, she cast the curse at a portrait, the flashing red causing the illusion of blood as the picture's occupants screamed in horror. Their disarray clashed horribly with Bella's laughter, her mirth ringing true and bold with shamelessness. Even in her mildly weakened state, that curse would have been crippling. She would spare Regulus from a direct hit.

Slowly, she pushed back up into her seat and steadied herself. She wouldn't bother giving him an assessment. He knew it had been poor, but she supposed he'd tried his best. "Now the Imperius. You weakened me-" She paused, shrugged dismissively and wryly simpered, "well, sort of. But it should help you nonetheless. Let's see if I can resist."

If he weren't as riled as he was, Bellatrix's icy silence would have driven terror into his heart. Despite all of the his insecurities and fears, Regulus was at his heart still a Black - and he would not back down. He didn't want Bellatrix's involvement, and her fury was only solidifying that he had made the right decision. The slight changes in her expression that were only noticeable because of the intensity of his gaze left him vindicated that the information was not for the Dark Lord himself. Whatever way Bellatrix tried to spin this, Regulus knew now that she had been meddling when he had expressly asked her not to. He had attempted to put space between them before, but now he needed it desperately. He couldn't afford for her to be messing around in his life.

"I know, Bella. I know. I don't doubt your intentions, nor your devotion. But I have made my boundaries clear, and you are repeatedly crossing them. I want to train with Rabastan. I've asked you to leave me be...my ambitions are mine and mine alone, and I'm comfortable with where I am. I want to serve the Dark Lord, but I also want to get on with my job at the ministry and study magic itself. I have little interest in climbing ranks, I just want to study," he said, mentally building further occlumency walls in his mind in case Bella decided to pry.

Regulus hated using the unforgivables, but avada at least was smooth and painless. He didn't have the stomach for torture, he never had and he never would. On a battle field he would use avada over any other curse, wanting to end the suffering quickly and neatly. At her instruction, Regulus froze, staring at Bellatrix blankly as she finished her tea.

The issue with unforgivables was that you had to mean it, and Regulus never did. With a slight shake to his hands, Reg pointed his wand at his cousin. "Crucio," he said, voice weak. The curse appeared to bounce off Bellatrix harmlessly, so before she could say a word he tried to summon up some of the fury in his veins from their earlier discussion as he cast the curse again.

If her previous silence had been chilling, the utter emptiness that followed his next speech could have frozen hell itself. For a moment, her eyes widened exponentially, her lips pursed and nostrils flaring with an outrage that flowed her veins like a devastating tsunami. He had called her bluff and she did not like it. Of course she hadn't gone to the Dark Lord. He wouldn't care for such a pointless piece of information, but that was besides the issue. She'd still needed the whole picture before deciding what to share with him. As she glowered, she placed both hands onto the arms of her chair and dug her nails into the upholstery. Better that than around her darling cousin's throat. It was a long time before she spoke again. Long for Bellatrix, anyway - at least a minute, in which she had struggled internally with the desire to deny the fear he'd so aptly identified. She never admitted it. Never. Her mask was one of merciless rage and relentless disgust. These things were far easier to acknowledge. They were simple to redirect, channelling her fear and her hurt into something more palatable. Blacks did not show weakness. But her family falling apart made her weak in ways that repulsed her.

"I only want what's best for you and Cissy." She took his words on board, trying her utmost to give him space. But she would be damned if she abandoned him completely. There was only so far that her patient goodwill would stretch. "I only want you to be happy and secure. If your ambition is so lowly, then I cannot change that. But while there is strength in my bones, I will do my best to keep you alive."

Regulus's sighing and flinching did nothing to soothe Bellatrix's concern. Quite the opposite, she was left feeling anxious - a state she most despised. But she was at least relieved to see his killing curse hurtling into a bust of old Corvus Lestrange, even if he'd had to speak it. Raising her fresh cup of tea, she took a deep gulp. "That was good, cousin." Not good enough, but she wasn't going to say it. Even she could see he needed praise. "Now Crucio me. But let me finish my tea first, I need to wash down that horrible ginger snap."

Finishing it fairly quickly, she then pushed the cup aside and held up her hands with a laugh. "Ready when you are. Don't feel bad about it, I don't mind a little pain." Truth be told, she quite enjoyed it. All that carnal monstrosity coursing through her every fibre.... Delicious.

If Regulus was deeply, truly honest with himself, he had never felt the level of devotion to the Dark Lord that other members of his family seemed to. He wasn't sure exactly how deep Cissa's devotion to the Dark Lord ran but he was loathe to ask the question, given he felt it would have landed him in this exact situation - staring across a table at Bellatrix. Bella's devotion to the Dark Lord was unrivalled, and her devotion to her remaining family members was also unquestionable but it was that intensity that had sent Regulus spinning away because he knew his own devotion did not go nearly as deep. His devotion to the Dark Lord came from a desperate need to please people, to be good and to be wanted. The more time that passed, the more obvious it was becoming that trying to please people was ripping him apart.

Refusing to flinch as Bellatrix snapped in his direction, Regulus narrowed his eyes, head tilting slightly as he considered her words. "Is it that the Dark Lord needs to know everything, or is it your desperate need for control over us, cousin? You want to keep me and Cissa close because you're scared, and it's....fucking hell, it's too much. I don't see what good the knowledge of my brief pause on a battlefield does for the Dark Lord, but I see what it is doing for you. I doubt you've even been to the Dark Lord at all with this information," he said coolly. "Fuck, Bella. What if I'm happy being low level cannon fodder? I don't need to be in the highest ranks, I've barely got enough time to cope with the amount of missions I'm being given as it is, between training and work. I'm just fine without additional responsibility," he snapped, hardly realising that he'd announced his lack of ambition without a second thought.

The tension in the room as they ate biscuits was so thick Regulus could have carved through it with a knife, but instead he chose to reach for another biscuit from the floating plate as Bella poured him more tea. His gaze was hard and firm as he watched her, not daring to take his eyes away for even a second.

Sighing heavily at her request, Regulus reached for his wand. He could demand that she vowed it to him, but he would take her word for what it was. The swiftness of her curse finally made him flinch away from his cousin, and Reg frowned deeply. The difference in their ability was palpable even now - her wordless curse had been explosive, and Regulus's verbal spell would not do anywhere near as much damage. "Avada Kedavra," he said, using his frustration with the afternoon's events to fuel the curse which he sent shooting at a marble bust on the other side of the room. "My avada is fine," he said, having always been adept with the killing curse. It did the least harm of the three unforgivables as it was quick and easy, and if he had to kill, he wanted to do it swiftly. "Like I said, Rabastan and I are working on the other two. My imperio is improving."

Bellatrix knew his struggles - some of them, anyway. They shared a sibling fleeing from the family. The Blacks were no saints, but they were an establishment with certain reputations to uphold, and since Sirius and Andromeda had pissed off without so much as a second glance, it was left to the rest of them to pick up the pieces. Bellatrix may have looked at Regulus and mourned the fact that he could never live up to his older brother. But even she could see the hypocrisy in her own attitude, knowing how her parents had turned to her and Cissa to compensate for Andromeda's loss. Bellatrix had always been too brash, too unruly. She had achieved much, but she would never be able to fulfil the role they'd wished for Andromeda. Her parents would get no well-behaved duty from her, only an unwanted warrior. She counted herself lucky for marrying Rodolphus - yet another act that her parents perhaps regretted. The Lestranges, at least, valued her true nature. So she saw Regulus's faults, but she didn't blame him for them. She only wanted to assist him, to ease his efforts. But the stubborn little shit kept pushing her away.

It did not take too much effort to maintain the icy silence. As flamboyant as she was, she knew how to strike fear into men's hearts. It was with the sudden dissipation of her extravagance. It was the calm before the storm, though in this instance, the tempest would not be too great. She was keeping herself on a leash, determined to run a ring around Regulus before he could even realise she had done it. His persistent objections were becoming repetitive and - frankly - boring. He needed to change his attitude.

"Regulus," she snapped despite herself. "Nothing is ever fucking private, because we are the Dark Lord's servants and HE needs to know EVERYTHING. Yes, I pushed Rabastan for a true report because I could tell the smarmy wretch was keeping secrets. There can be no secrets in the highest ranks, and that is where you belong. You will not be low level cannon fodder, you will be one of the most trusted even if I have to burn myself to a crisp to get you there."

Now they both looked like petulant teenagers, nibbling on their biscuits and glaring at each other over the delicately spiced crumbs. Just to stop herself from retorting further, Bellatrix shoved the last half of her biscuit into her mouth and chewed on it noisily, leaning forward to pour them both more tea. This time when she heaped her sugar, she stirred it rampantly.

"Show me," she demanded more calmly, after swallowing what had become an unpleasant mush of ginger stodge. "Show me your curses, then I promise I will leave you be." He could take her word for it. She could lie without a second thought, but with her family she was nothing but brutally honest. Raising her own wand, she shot a jet of Avada green at a rather expensive vase gifted to her by the Mulcibers on her wedding day. The gesture was effortless, hardly any thought behind it. There was only the savage desire to kill, and it showed in the explosive way that the item shattered and flew across the room. "Take your pick of object, I really don't care what you destroy."

Regulus was trying to balance too many spinning plates between his family duties, his duties to the war, his own misgivings, and the secrets he was trying to keep. He did not want to sit here under Bellatrix's beady eye, knowing he had disappointed her since he was a boy and that he continued to be an ever present reminder of what the Black family could have had, and that they were left with him instead. He had tried - nobody could say that he hadn't tried. Merlin, he'd torn his soul in two trying to be good enough. He'd cast curse after curse, he'd trained and trained, he had gone on plenty of successful missions - yet it had stained his soul until he was truly fit for the Black name. The pressure from all sides was drowning him, pouring down his throat and choking his airwaves. He couldn't continue like this, but he couldn't see another way out. He felt like there was only one way this ended for him, and it was a permanent closure to the story of Regulus Black.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Regulus kept his eyes trained on his cousin. He would not cower in front of Bellatrix, no matter the way his insides were twisting with anxiety and fear about what she may demand of him. He loved her, truly, he did. A large part of Regulus resisting against the conscience that had been gnawing at his soul for so long had been that he did not want to go the way of Andromeda, of Sirius. He did not want to lose Bella, or Cissa. Even his parents, twisted and awful though they were, Regulus would mourn the loss of them in his life. It was all he had ever known, and stepping out into a complete unknown terrified him. At his heart, he felt like a scared little boy. He did not want to lose his family.

Bella's silence at his outburst was chilling, and he made a noise of discontentment at the finger pointed in his direction. "The mission was successful. There was no need for Rabastan to update you on my abilities in the battlefield, that is gossip. I knew you were getting updates on me, nothing is ever fucking private in this family is it?" he spat, furious at both Bellatrix and his mentor. He bit his tongue rather than retorting at her correct assumption that he was trying to distract her. Snatching a biscuit from the tray, Regulus considered that he must truly look like a toddler throwing a tantrum, yet he couldn't bring himself to care as he ate the biscuit with a frown. "Bellatrix, there is no hidden game to my words. I do not want you to teach me," he asserted. "My best is avada. The other two are equally poor, though I would say my imperio is slightly better than my crucio. But I am working on those with Rabastan, and that is the way it will stay."

"I appreciate your offer, I do. I have told you this before, I appreciate...the care that it shows. But I am fine. I don't understand how I can say it more clearly, cousin. I do not want your help."

Bellatrix had loved Sirius. She had admired his spirit, laughing at the way he stuck a middle finger up at every stuffy rule and regulation. She'd valued the way he had never tried to cramp her into a box, labelling her like every other godforsaken male in their family. But he had been full of deceit. His betrayal had destroyed her. It had fuelled her rage and sent her spinning for the Dark Lord more brutally and determinedly than she had known possible. Even now, sitting here with Regulus, she couldn't help but see his brother's face and feel her skin crawling with latent ire. Revenge would be sweet - for Regulus, as much as for herself. She would lay down her life for her youngest cousin, though the fact that he didn't seem to value her devotion hurt. She refused to acknowledge it, focussing only on the fact that the rejection was because she was too intense. It was a selfless consideration for such an egocentric witch, though in large part inspired by her unwillingness to admit to her own weakness.

Not once did she cease her observations. Her eyes may have turned away, but she could feel Regulus squirming beside her despite his valiant attempts at holding composure. She was proud of that. He could wear a mask like the rest of them, painting a picture of noble strength and stoic integrity. So as he sat back casually, a smile snaked her lips, which curved indecorously behind the rim of her teacup. Placing it back onto the saucer, she slid it onto a side table and sat, staring unflinching at Regulus as he spoke. They were like a pair of statuettes, dark haired and pale skinned, the familial resemblance running as strong as the blood that fuelled their limbs. Little did she know the depth of Regulus's struggles. Long may she remain unaware, for it would not please her to kill him. She took pleasure in the devil's work, but that would cause her no satisfaction.

She listened to everything he had to say. Though she had a vested interest in his success - though she desired it tirelessly - she was clever and wily. She would not allow emotional instincts to drive her this time, knowing how he desired detachment - for whatever absurd reason. Not once did she move. Not until his voice sharpened with anger, inspiring yet another twist of approval through her porcelain skin. As the tea splattered across the saucer, she narrowed her eyes and considered him, waiting until his diatribe had ceased.

"You have pride, Regulus. Rightly so." Pointing a finger, her eyes expanded indicatively. "But don't let it come before a fall. There was no gossiping. It was a mission, there were updates, I was informed. Do not use my devotion to the Dark Lord as a way to distract me." She arched an eyebrow, stern despite the amusement that lightened her tone and curved her harsh lips. "Nice try but I'm not an idiot. I know what you're doing. Biscuit?" Flicking her wand, she hovered a tray towards her cousin, not thinking twice about combining a pleasant refreshment with this darker topic. As it floated between them, she picked up a ginger snap and studied it before taking a bite. "Which is your best Unforgiveable and which is your worst?"

No matter how hard he tried, Regulus knew that he was a disappointment. He knew that his parents wished that Sirius was still here over Regulus, because he was the stronger of the two boys. He knew that Bellatrix believed Sirius would have made a better Death Eater, and privately, he agreed. The further they got into this war, the more obvious it was becoming to Regulus that this was not the right path for him. Torture turned his stomach, he couldn't cast a strong unforgivable to save his life, and Regulus didn't dare to think about his changing opinions on blood purity in Bellatrix's presence. Even with his occlumency firmly in place, Regulus didn't dare to think even a single thought about Caradoc Dearborn. He had a sinking feeling that whatever Bellatrix had called him here for could not be good, and it was not merely a friendly catch up.

Holding his cup tightly in his hands, Regulus was about to lift the drink to his lips when Bella dropped her spoon and he flinched again. Trying to brush it off, Regulus leaned back into his chair with a practiced air of casual nonchalance. He was, after all, a pureblood. He had been acting his whole life, and though Bellatrix had keen eyes and an iron-clad will, Regulus would not let his cousin trip him up.

"He is more than adequate, he is great. You are the best, and I know you are - you and I both know that. But you are too important to the cause to busy yourself with my inability to cast lasting unforgivables. Let Rabastan deal with that, while you honour the Dark Lord," he said, playing on Bella's absolute devotion. He held her gaze firmly, not wanting to shy away from it no matter the fact he felt she may be piercing into his very soul. "Cousin, I cannot ask that of you," he protested again, before Bellatrix revealed the true reason for her owl. "Ah, so you and Rabastan have been gossiping about me," he said, his tone holding a hint of fury. "That was supposed to be private. It was fine, Rab dealt with it. They didn't even come close to hitting me, because the Order are shit. They are unruly and undisciplined, they have no hope," he said, setting the cup of tea down so firmly that some splashed over the side onto the saucer. "Whether or not I die is nothing to do with you, Bella. You have done your best, but I need you to respect my wishes. I do not want you to teach me." He didn't have the stomach for whatever Bellatrix's teaching would look like, and he knew it. "I appreciate the offer, I do. Truly."

A little fear did wonders - in everyone, not just her enemies. Friends and family were treated equally to her charming personality, though they benefitted from her loyalty and never-ceasing protection, as smothering as it could sometimes be. These days, Bellatrix was acutely aware of the effect she had on those dearest to her. She was fuelled by a desperation to bind them to herself, outraged by both Sirius and Andromeda and the hurt they had ripped through the Black family - through her. So she clung to Cissy and Regulus, trying her hardest to make their lives both worthwhile and worthy. Yet she knew that this approach was not always welcome, and that it had pushed Regulus elsewhere. She was truly and wholeheartedly trying to temper her behaviour. But it was not easy to moderate Bellatrix Lestrange. The witch was too unruly even for herself.

Scoffing at his statement on avoidance, she dropped a few sugar lumps into her cup and stirred it. The spoon swished silently, avoiding the delicate china surround with fine-tuned accuracy. Then it clattered down onto the saucer, undoing all of her careful attention to avoiding jarring noises - speaking of which, while she would ordinarily and happily have soaked up compliments, in this instance she saw right through them. So she raised her cup to her lips and took an indulgent gulp, her eyes remaining centred on him all the while. She did not miss his grimace.

"You deserve more than 'adequate', Regulus. You are the last of the Black heirs. You deserve the best." Her stare was truly like a pair of daggers, sharpened and primed to carve her message home. Sirius was a waste of space and she would not permit Regulus to become the same. He would be great, even if she had to drag him through fire and brimstone to get him there herself. And oh, how she hated Sirius for bringing this fate into Regulus's life. Sirius should have been the Death Eater. She was not a fool - she knew Regulus was not truly suited to it. But it was now his duty and he must fulfil it. They all had duties. He was not exempt. "I will help you. You cannot freeze during battles, cousin. You could have been killed. If that had happened-" She paused, hesitating over her words in the most uncharacteristic manner. Then she continued, practically slicing the words across her tongue, reluctant to express their truthful sentimentality. "I would never have forgiven myself."

Regulus had received Bellatrix's invitation to tea with a certain degree of dread. He cared for his cousin, he truly did, but it could not be denied that the eldest Black was intense. In his heart of hearts, Regulus knew she wanted the best for him...but the way in which she went about it exhausted him, and now as he grew ever more conflicted the last thing he needed was for his cousin to sit and pry, or to diminish his magical ability. Still, an invitation to Bellatrix's home was not one that could be ignored - and at the end of the day, Regulus desperately ached to make someone proud of him and he did care for his cousin, even if she mildly terrified him sometimes.

As soon as Regulus set foot on Lestrange soil, he took a moment to ensure that his mental walls of occlumency were firmly in place before he approached the parlour. He didn't trust Bellatrix not to quietly probe his mind as they shared tea, and he had too much to protect to risk her catching wind of his thoughts. He shot a tight smile back, crossing the room to take the offered seat.

"Afternoon, Bella," he reached for the cup of tea, letting the scolding heat of the cup centre him. "I avoid everyone, cousin. I wouldn't take it personally," he said, grateful for his historic grumpiness to fall back on. Whenever he visited Bella in her home, he was struck by how much she fit here as a proper pureblooded lady, and how meagre his small terraced house seemed in comparison. "Mm...your ability with the dark arts is second only to the Dark Lord himself, I know you could teach me better than Rabastan," he said, offering her some flattery in the hopes that it would soothe whatever was coming next. "It would be quite rude of me to abandon Rabastan's dutiful teaching when we have gotten this far...I was improving recently," he said, though he grimaced remembering the panic attack he'd experienced out on the field. Thank Merlin he was masked, and Rabastan hadn't seen the true panic he'd been experiencing. "Rabastan is a perfectly adequate tutor."

Starter for: Regulus Black @battle-scvrs Where: Bellatrix & Rodolphus's home (a smaller manor on the Lestrange Estate) When: lunchtime

It was hardly Bellatrix's style to be domesticated. Yet she'd invited her youngest cousin for tea, knowing it was his favourite beverage. She'd given him more than enough space by now, to the point where the physical distance was beginning to make her itch. She was an intensely emotional witch. Though calculating and meticulous when it mattered, she was driven by passion - and at present, her passion lay with ensuring that Regulus was well. She did care. It was a skewed, obsessive sort of adoration, but it was genuine nonetheless and she would stop at nothing to ensure his wellbeing.

Once he joined her in the parlour, she looked up over the top of a copy of the Daily Prophet, the headline boasting a particularly wonderful depiction of the Dark Mark floating over muggle London. Paused with momentarily shrewd study, her eyes glittered over his appearance. Then she neatly folded the paper and smiled, patting the seat next to her in invitation.

"Hello, cousin." Glancing sideways, she slid the paper onto the table and reached for the teapot, her length of raven hair obscuring her features before she looked back up with dark petulance. "I got bored of you avoiding me, so here we are." Handing him a cup of tea, she then poured one for herself and sat back. Crossing one leg over the other, she looked very much like 'lady of the manor'. It lasted all but a few seconds before her eyes narrowed. "Why must you spend so much time with Rabastan? You know I would teach you far more and take you further than he ever will." Was she jealous? Absolutely. Grateful? To her chagrin, also true. As much as she loathed to acknowledge, it was convenient that her brother-in-law had taken the boy under his wing. She'd been alarmed to hear about his little blip during a recently incident - freezing while being attacked, indeed. Rabastan had been diplomatic when updating her, but she was not an idiot. She saw that Rabastan was trying to keep secrets from her. It wouldn't do.