Smoke… a dagger … blood… fire…
She gasped, the tightness of her corset made it all the more difficult to breathe. Her hands sought the letter he sent her. He would return as promised, she knew that. However, she also knew he would understand it broke her heart to betray him like this, but their son should survive. It was foolish and pointless for her to sacrifice all their lives for a fleeting moment of happiness … for love. Sacrifice had to be made for her and her son to survive.
She pressed the letter to her heart, “I’m sorry Nathaniel, but you must have known this would happen. I know that you will understand.”
She stared upon her tear-streaked reflection. Behind her, she could see her bed; upon it lay a wedding gown. She was to be married tomorrow, yet it felt like a funeral march.
The breeze of the Adriatic never failed to invigorate her. Merchant ships arrive with their usual array of spices and other good. She approached a mascareri’s stall; she fingered the white face decorated with delicate golden swirls.
“Shame on you, Bianca. Browsing through Muggle-wares are you? What will you father say?”
She whirled around and came face-to-face to a young man; dark haired of whose gray eyes twinkled in amusement.
“Nathaniel Black! You’re one to talk,” she leaned closer to him and whispered, “if I can recall, you caused quite a scandal yourself; pretending to be a Muggle artist (of all things) and presenting the Doge that portrait “ a Muggle-styled portrait to be exact.”
Dark eyebrow rose in a playful manner, with a discreet flick of his wand, a silencing charm was placed upon them. “Your father should thank me. I’m using my influence with the Doge to keep all Wizarding activity under wraps.”
“My Father, the Minister of Magic had everything under control,” she retorted with her arms crossed. “We were in no danger of Muggle detection.”
“So to have the Condottiero making regular round about the Ministry building was part of some elaborate reverse psychology scheme?” He cock his head to his right and was obviously holding back an urge to laugh, “Somewhere in the line of: the more they watch you, the less they’ll see?”
She stifled a sigh; her curiosity finally got the better of her. “What exactly did you tell the Doge?”
“Those strange lights and people walking around in strange robes were my doing, I wanted to try and paint a surreal and dark imagery of Venice. Of course, I still can’t get the right imagery I’m aiming for … figured I’d get it right someday.”
She stared at him incredulously, “And he bought that?”
“The Doge is a lover of art and firmly believe that artists ought to be allowed their eccentricities,” he tipped his cap, “playing the part of an eccentric artist just came naturally for me.”
She shook her head. “You are indeed an artist, Mr. Black. One of the most talented I’ve ever encountered. However, eccentric is a term used for people whose drives and purposes are hard to understand. You, Mr. Black are no eccentric, I can clearly tell what drives and motivates you. A rebel, would better define you.”
The Minister’s daughter turned and walked away. The young man she left behind watched her blend into the crowd - he was clearly intrigued.
From her window she saw him knock on their door, the couple beside him have to be Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel, said to be close friends of his. She knew what was to come, she had foreseen it; her lips turned upwards like a bow.
He had intrigued her when he had arrived in Venice with all those fanfare - the new head of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Blacks, young and single. It was strange that he chose to reside here instead of England, yet her father most of Venice’s High Wizard society had been ecstatic that someone with such noble roots had arrived into their locality. Though it did not take him long to shatter their expectations.
The man chose to be an artist, not exactly a profession of the High Wizard’s Class. He made matters worse when he chose to by freely talk to Muggles; put to debate traditional Wizarding beliefs; and even dabbled on Muggle sciences and arts.
She heard rumours that there was a great uproar in the Black clan, back at England. Yet they could do nothing, because he was the rightfully assigned heir to the title. The Blacks probably wished that the old man disowned his eldest son and gave the title to the more deserving younger brother.
She opened her closet to pick out a dress, her mind occupied on the Black family’s controversial rebel.
As she walked down the stairs, all the men in the room stood up.
“Miss Bianca,” Nathaniel Black greeted her with a formal bow, which she acknowledged.
Her father looked especially pleased, “Nathaniel here has formally asked my permission to court you and I gave him my blessing.”
Despite her father’s disapproval of Nathaniel’s ways, it was no surprised that he approved of the match. Nathaniel was, after all still a Black, a name of great prestige, wealth, and power.
She opened the large enamel box that her new suitor has presented to her and smiled. Inside was a mask; the intricate swirl design of the gold was embossed but with little tendrils of silver carved beneath and a spatter of tiny jewels in the eye area, moreover the swirly design moves - ever so subtle like the breeze. This was no mere mask made by the local mascareri; it was obviously created by a wizard, Nathaniel to be exact.
Her fingers traced the contours of the mask, taking in the artful detail to its creation. She lifted the mask to try it on.
She was suddenly aware of the sweet dewy smell of the grass and the sun shining up above her. She opened her eyes and was surprised that she saw not her reflection with the mask on, but a field with unicorns running about, their silvery coat glittered under the sun. The sight of them gave her a sense of calm peacefulness inside.
She placed the mask down and had to re-orient herself, she stared upon her reflection and the mask on her hand. She then noticed a small papyrus roll, it hung on the side of the mask. She unrolled the paper and read:
When all would seem dark and bleak, look upon this gift.
She caressed the mask and put it on again to drink in the hope; hope for a future with this enigmatic young man.
She remembered him, how he had bounded their gift of sight. He said that the ability to see the future was a curse and discouraged her from looking into their future. She opened a box, in it was the broken ribbon. The ribbon he used for the Binding Spell “ one that he asked her not to undo.
Curious by nature, she failed to heed his warning. She unlocked to box. Saw the ugly future that awaited him. She went to her father - sought the man’s help; it was an unfortunate mistake. Her father wanted an alliance with the Black; he did not care which side of the Blacks.
Her eyes fell upon a familiar mask. She reached out to it, she needed hope, yet its mere presence reminded her of what she lost of Nathaniel. She heaved it unto the fire.
His end is to be through fire, it will all end in fire.
Note: OC Bianca was briefly mentioned in ‘The Healer’
Facts:
1. Gates of Ghetto “ was taken down by Napoleon Bonaparte on 1797
2. Mascareri “ Venetian mask maker
3. Doge “ the chief executive of Venice who theoretically holds elective office for life.
4. Condottiero “ captain of a nobleman’s army