Silver

Sirius POV: 

Regulus and Evan are slowly lowering me down through the ceiling so that I can steal the Lost Prince’s crown, and so that we can sell it and get the bazillions of dollars that we’ve all been waiting for. 

One of the guards sneezes and I make a jab at him. 

He realizes I’m there and then we’re off on the chase. 

Running was exhilarating. I’ve always loved the feeling of wind in my face, blowing my shoulder-length hair behind me. Running away from the Royal Guard right after I’ve stolen the most precious crown in the kingdom? Fucking brilliant. 

Unfortunately, while I was fast, my friend and brother, Evan and Regulus, were much faster, and stayed steadily ahead of me, while I had to pause and lean on trees every now and then.

At one tree, I found a wanted poster that said “Sirius Black, Wanted, Dead or Alive, Large Reward” with a large image of me beneath.

The nose was absurdly large.

“Oh no.” I mutter under my breath, staring at the poster in horror. “Oh no, no, no, no.” I rip the poster off the tree, and look over at my colleagues, who are staring at me in confusion. “This is really, really bad.” I move the poster to line up with my head, so they can see the monstrosity. “They just can’t get my nose right!”

“Who cares?” Regulus asks, frowning.

“Well it’s easy for you to say!” I tell him, grabbing the inevitable posters with his and Evan’s faces on them. “You guys look amazing.” 

Evan snorts, “Mate, that’s a wanted poster, I doubt it matters.”

I’m about to make a retort, but a sudden whinny from the cliff just behind Evan stops me.

I look up, squinting against the sun.

“We gotta go.” I say instead, turning back around and sprinting off. 

The Royal Guard follows us, and they’re faster on their horses. I know we’re doomed. 

We run for a good mile, before we run into another cliff. 

“Alright…” I say, “Give me a boost, and I’ll pull you up.”

“Give us the satchel first.” Regulus tells me.

I clutch at the satchel hanging over my shoulder. The satchel that holds the prince’s crown, that at this point is entirely for decoration. He’s been gone for almost eighteen years now.

“I can’t believe that after all we’ve been through together, you don’t trust me.” I say, mildly offended.

Evan and Regulus are masters of ‘resting bitch faces’.

“Ouch.”

Regardless, I pull the satchel over my head, handing it to Evan.

Just minutes later, I’m climbing up the ladder that is Evan and Regulus, so that I can make it to the top of the cliff. 

When I get to the top, Evan reaches out his hand.

“Now help us up, Star Boy.” He grunts.

“Sorry.” I tell him, pulling the satchel that I snatched from him from behind my back, “But my hands are full.”

“What?” Evan asks, patting down his sides.

I’m already gone. I’ve darted off, running where I please, and trying my absolute hardest to escape the Royal Guard.

“BLACK!!” I hear Evan scream, echoing through the forest.

Good things friends aren’t forever.

When I’m not paying attention, I trip over a stone, and that gives me barely enough time to run away from the Guard again, since they’ve used the opportunity to catch up to me. 

“Retrieve that satchel! No matter what it takes!” I hear the guard’s leader command, I think his name’s Frank. Frank Widebutt, or something.

“Yessir!” The other lieutenants say, before speeding off in separate directions, trying to trap me in.

I jump under a log, and when I look back, I find arrows impaled right where my head was seconds before.

Fuck.

I pause in shock, but just for a second, then I take off running again.

The horses still follow.

I jump through the branches of a windy, twisty tree, and most of the horses stop, except for Frank’s.

“We got him now, Prongs!” Frank says behind me, holding up his crossbow.

I speed up, finding a vine that I use to swing on.

I somehow manage to knock Frank off of “Prongs” and jump onto the horse myself.

“Hyah!” I shout in delight.

The horse stops, almost whipping me off the front. 

Prongs turns his head, glaring at me.

“C’mon!” I plead, kicking the horse.

The satchel begins to swing in my hand, catching Prongs’s attention.

Prongs bites at the bag, attempting to grab it. 

“No!” I say sternly, dragging the satchel away.

Prongs tries again. And again. 

Eventually, he’s trying so hard that he’s also sprinting in circles, leading us to who knows where.

He catches the bag, and I keep trying to pull it away. 

The horse is bloody relentless.

Eventually, Prongs lets go, and I’m still pulling on it, so it flies out of my hand, and over the side of (yet another) cliff, just barely catching on a tree branch.

Prongs and I glance at each other, and then we both take off running, trying to grab the satchel before the other. We both pull each other down on several occasions, but eventually I somehow end up on the bottom of the tree, barely hanging on for my life, with Prongs trying to stomp on my hands and feet, to knock me off. 

I scurry my way down the branch, and the satchel almost slips off, because the branch is shaking, but I manage to catch it. I hold it up gleefully, showing Prongs.

Then there’s a crack.

We both look at the base of the tree in horror. 

Then we begin to fall.

Both me and the horse are clinging onto the branch, but soon enough there’s a rock on the side of the cliff, and, when the middle of the tree hits it, the branch breaks in half, sending Prongs and me in two separate directions.

I manage to find a rock to hide behind, while Prongs tries to sniff me out, looking rather like a dog. 

He walks right past me.

Behind the rock is a wall of ivy, and I try to lean on it, to catch my breath, but when I put my hand on it, it goes straight through. There’s no wall there at all.

I pull the ivy aside in confusion, and I pat the satchel to make sure it’s still there. Then, with (almost) no hesitation, I step through the ivy wall.

Prongs’s shadow shows through the ivy, but he doesn’t seem to realize that there isn’t a wall here, because he continues walking past.

I continue forward into the rock, which is kind of a tunnel. At the end, I’m not expecting anything important or strange, but when I look up, there’s a tower, at least 50 feet high. It’s made of stone and covered in ivy, the roof is maroon and pointed, almost something out of a fairy tale.

I look behind me. I could go grab some arrows, try to scale up this mystery tower.

That’s what I do, and, let me tell you, scaling up a 50 foot tower with nothing ensuring a safe fall is bloody terrifying.

I manage, though. I pull myself up through the window, grunting, and pleased with myself.

I check in the satchel one more time, to make sure that the crown’s still there, then a sudden THUMP and after that, it’s all black.