Chapter Text
The Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Frosland.
It was a name any Pureblood house worth their weight knew, and a name only ever talked about in whispers. Powerful, Wealthy, with a potent Line Gift that few outside were privy to know the full extent of. The fate of entire houses rested in a Frosland's palms due to their mysterious gift. With a single gesture, a man's name could be nothing more than a mere memory; a faint tune you could hear from across the river, but never truly remember.
The Frosland Household were reclusive, and oft-times only took spouses from smaller, failing, unknown houses with marriage contracts and very heavy secrecy clauses. They never held parties, and likewise, they only socialized enough to be aware of what was going on. In political settings, they often remained a silent, neutral family in the face of crisis. Influential enough to sweep away those who tried to use them, they were frequently left to their own devices. All in all, they had never seemed to care enough about the world to care about changing it.
Around 13 years ago, however, tragedy struck, and the entire house fell ill. There had been whispers when it had happened, many were sure it had been a curse or a poison, though who had the audacity was unclear. But it had been sudden and violent enough that it took nearly the entire family, save one. The youngest of the family, who miraculously managed to hold on and awaken weeks after his family had already entered Death's sweet embrace. 17-year-old Phoenix Frosland, second child of Lady Delphinus Frosland, and younger twin to Heir Orion Frosland. With his entire family dead, young Phoenix shut himself in his home for a year after the incident to mourn. When the doors of the manor finally opened, he was no longer a boy, but a Lord befitting his title.
…Yet it seemed the new Lord emerged from his house with ideals that diverged from that of his ancestors. A change both welcomed and admonished, then quickly only welcomed by the other Purebloods of Spain.
Gaius stared at his drink in contemplation.
Lord Frosland swept into Britain eight years ago like a hurricane, taking up a seat on the Wizengamot of some, minor pureblood family he was related to. (Potentially one of his other fathers, or his mother, now that Gaius thought about it. He'd have to ask the albino if he'd be willing to share their former surnames before they all had married Lord Mateo. Carefully, of course. The young Lord often got uncomfortable with the subject, not that Malfoy could blame him, considering how they had died.)
In that same year, He also came up to four of the Pureblood Lords of Britain, Gaius himself being one of them, and asked rather politely for an alliance. Though, really, as courteous as it may have been, it was rather obvious after Lord Crabbe's attempt to resist and refuse most vehemently that it had not been an offer.
Gaius shivered at the memory, taking far more than a few sips of brandy to get rid of the sudden dryness in his throat and steady the trembling in his hands. It doesn't matter, what's done was done. Gaius and the others had no intentions of their family becoming nothing more than a forgotten lullaby in time. They made their choice, and it was the smartest choice they could have made.
...Yet still.... he still didn't understand why the snowy-haired man had been so insistent on having them as allies.
To tell the truth, he didn't understand anything that Phoenix did.
Educating them properly on various topics they had been ignorant on, he could understand. No one likes a fool. He could even respect the ambitiousness of using them for their political power to push bills and movements that the albino deemed vital. But his personal ambitions were... minimal, to say the least. Plus the odd phrases that were thrown about like candy, and the sudden adoptions! Merlin, the man hadn't even bothered to think of finding a wife first!
("Or husband. Or spouse. Come now, Malfoy, don't be narrow-minded." A voice whispered in the back of his mind, sounded suspiciously like the very Lord that Gaius was puzzling over.)
The more he thought of it, the more the stormy-eyed blond needed a headache relief potion. became convinced he had definitely been the luckiest of the four that day, as the one who the least affected by that incident. Dante Crabbe still had difficulties with ice of any sort, though Phoenix was gently helping him through it when he had the time as an apology.
Nott seemed to be the second least affected, remaining the same, save the occasional moments in private when the blond would sometimes catch him staring into space with a glazed look in his eyes. Questioning him, however, only led to him snapping out of it and brushing it off indifferently, never giving a verbal answer. Anyone else would have thought it was him simply deeming them unworthy of knowing, but the Malfoy Lord knew it was simply Cleon's way of being too embarrassed to talk about it. Phoenix had thought it was cute when they would catch him, a word Gaius never thought he'd hear pointed towards Nott of all men. And Lestrange…
His headache grew worse at the thought of that fool, making him sigh out loud and eye the half full bottle of brandy next to him.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
Alcor had practically become a different person overnight, though Phoenix would never know of it since it was always just out of his sight. Every single book that Phoenix published, Alcor had. Every event Phoenix went to as a guest speaker, Alcor went to in disguise to support him. With each achievement, no, not even achievements, anything that the albino did, Al would gush about for days to anyone who would listen. He had become… become… what was that word Phoenix used that one time?
"Ah." Gaius stated loudly to the empty office around him. "A Simp. My cousin has become a terrible, hardcore simp."
"You are a saint, Zen." Phoenix happily sighed as he sipped his new drink.
Zenios gave a quiet chuckle, before he stretched a hand over the table to pet the soft fluff atop the Spanish Lord's head. "The terrifying Lord Frosland everyone fears, beaten by social anxieties." He hummed carefully.
"It's precisely because I'm Lord Frosland that I was so nervous. What if I madeher nervous? What if she started crying? I can't handle crying people."
Oh, my dear friend. You already make her nervous, but not in the manner of which you think.
"You can handle your crying children." The Lovegood pointed out instead. "-And you handle your House-Elves rather well too."
"I can't handle crying random people." Phoenix corrected in acquiesce.
Zenios Lovegood merely smiled, and allowed the earlier silent take hold of them once more. He knew full well what kind of man Phoenix was; well enough to know that the insistence that he could not handle crying strangers was merely a bold-faced lie to himself. Even if the world was ending and Phoenix didn't have a single thread of magic in his soul, he would comfort thousands strangers if it meant making their lives and deaths a little easier to accept. That was part of what made the man so fascinating, really.
Well, that, and the fact he wasn't of this world.
The Gift of Sight was truly a strange one, and the Gift was always strong within the Lovegood Family. It did not need to be spoken for them both to know what the other did. Perhaps that was why Phoenix felt more comfortable in letting down his façade around the blonde.
Hm, should he even call him Phoenix, really? ...Yes, yes, though his old life never ended, his new life was still his. The Frosland name was still taken. It would be rude to dredge up old skeletons in such a way.
Yet it was because of the avid reading habits of one of those skeletons that Phoenix had made such bold, half-planned, reckless,andwonderful changes to the world. He gave a child who knew only tragedy and love not only a house, but a home. Then another child was brought, even though she had nothing to do with the "plot," so to speak. He could have left her, or brought her someplace else. Instead he swept her under his wings and gently gave her a home within his nest too.
It was simply Phoenix's nature. Both of the old him and the new him, made into one.
It is why his old life ended so tragically.
It is why his new one is held so warmly.
It is why of the timelines Zenios had seen, several ones with high-pitched laughs and flashes of green have already faded like paper boats that floated too far down the river.
"What a lovely melody~" The Lovegood sighed as he closed his eyes, tilting his head as if listening further to the tune itself.
"Hm?" Phoenix blinked, looking away from the lovely sight the café window's provided. "What? What melody? Wait, is this a vision thing? Should I be pulling out a pen? Gods, Zenios, if I have to turn in a prophecy to the Ministry on a drink stained napkin-"
"It's nothing, my dear friend." The blonde smiled as the waitress came back to their table. "I'm just remembering the song that was playing when you accidentally tripped into the lake by your house while wearing nothing but white-"
"Zenios! Don't say such embarrassing things in public- Oh, dear, Miss? Are you alright? Have you been worked too much today? Why is your face so red? Here, pull up a chair and sit down for a moment, poor thing-"
Ah, Phoenix was just too cute not to mess with...
