The Kingmaker's Crown

The fresh air feels good on his face as he walks through a thick fog. Regulus had avoided getting a fever thanks to the Wolf but the bleeding had still taken a while to stop. Regulus had taken his microdose and passed out again until 4 AM the following morning. Still drowsy, he had dragged himself up, determined to make it to the base and speak with Bandit. Now following his feet through the forest, Regulus wishes he stayed in bed. His wrist is throbbing in pain and even with his muted, poisoned senses, Regulus wanted to rest. The wound itched too, he kept stretching his fingers to try and itch the skin without actually scratching it, which only made his broken bones hurt more. 

He stumbled over a root and swore loudly, overstimulated and frustrated. Overwhelmed. The pain shoots up his arm and tingles through him and Regulus screams. Rage, betrayal, shock, wave after wave of pent up emotion ripping out of him and the pain takes over him. Tears of rage begin pouring down his face as he lashes out kicking aimlessly at a tree and crying out again. Exhausted, his body begins to sway and Regulus folds forward, crashing against the tree, unable to support himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles into the tree. “That was uncalled for.” 

He leans there for long, long minutes, letting the cool fog wash over him, bringing his body temperature back down as he takes deep, rattling breaths. The tears stop falling and Regulus collects himself. So overworn and fraught and stupid. 

“I thought I heard you,” a voice purrs behind him. “You’re early.” 

Regulus turns and finds the Duke leaning on a nearby tree watching him. As Regulus looks up, he hesitates. Had they had plans? He turns his body towards the male, showing his splinted hand as he does so. 

“What happened to you?” The Duke asks, moving closer to Regulus. Regulus isn’t sure how to respond. He feels far too exposed. Feeling so ill, he hadn't bothered with his corset today, wearing one of Sirius’ old t-shirts and joggers. His hair loose around his shoulders. He couldn't manage buttons on his own with one hand. 

“An accident while sword fighting.” He brushes it off, but the Duke scoffs.

“Why are you still bothering with that now, darling?” Regulus goes cold. Does the Duke know that he’s a spy?

“What do you mean? Why would I stop training?” The Duke hesitates, studying Regulus for a second before laughing. 

“Regulus.” The Duke raises a hand and strokes his cheek. “It’s just a joke.” 

“Oh.” Regulus breathes softly. The Duke bites his lip and looks down the path. 

“I only have a few minutes before I have to go, but you look like you need some pain relief.” He looks back at Regulus and grins. “Let me help with that.” 

Then he sinks to his knees, pulling Regulus’ joggers down with him. 

It doesn't take long for Regulus to cry out into the forest for another reason. 

“You make me feel so powerful, love,” The Duke coos as he rises to his feet. Regulus blushes furiously. 

“Tell me, how do you feel about me, Regulus?” The Duke knows he cannot glamour Regulus, because he’s wearing his rowan berries, but Regulus can still feel the charm in his voice washing over him like a warm blanket. 

“Oh, Regulus, there you are.” 

The Duke moves faster than Regulus can process, moving away from Regulus and turning to the speaker. The Bandit stands there, no more than 5 feet away from them. Regulus isn't even sure when he showed up, let alone how long he’s been watching them. Although his eyes are on the Duke, not Regulus. The Bandit keeps an unblinking gaze on the Duke as Regulus clears his throat. 

“Hey.” Bandit still doesn't take his eyes from the Duke. In turn, the Duke takes a step back, watching Bandit warily. 

“I’ll see you later, Regulus,” the Duke tells him as he backs away. 

“Do you know each other?” Regulus asks Bandit who shrugs, finally looking at Regulus. 

“No, but he was trying to glamour you.”

Regulus sighs, letting his head hit the tree behind him. He does feel better after that. “I know, I can feel it.” 

“Huh, I didn’t know that,” Bandit tells him, eyes watching Regulus’ hand. “You want some drugs?” 

Regulus blinks and then nods. “Yes, please.” 

The Bandit bounces away, Regulus picking his way over roots as he follows The Bandit inside the castle through the hidden tunnel.

There are people Regulus doesn't recognise in the base. Horti is talking to someone as they pass his office, but he calls out. 

“Reggie?” 

Regulus stops, backtracking to step into the room. “Yeah?”

Horti looks up at him, his gaze fixes on Regulus’ hand and a flash of rage hits his face like lightning, there and gone again in an instant. He smiles warmly at Regulus. 

“Do you need a poultice or anything?” Horti asks. Bandit steps into the room after Regulus and Horti’s gaze flicks to him, his body relaxing slightly as he takes in the other male. “B.” 

“Captain,” Bandit replies, bowing deeply. “I’ll take care of him.”

Horti smiles at him fondly and nods. “Thank you, B.”

 He looks back to Regulus. 

“I have a mission for you tonight. With…” A hesitation as he checks the papers on his desk. 

“Wolfie,” he nods. 

“Should I come here?” Regulus asks but Horti shakes his head. 

“He’ll pick you up.” Bandit giggles next to him and when Regulus looks over at him, he grins.

“He’s already over there, I think,” Bandit tells him and Horti scoffs.

“What people do in their free time has nothing to do with us, B.”

“Yes, Captain.” Bandit blows a kiss at Horti, who blushes slightly, although it's not that clear in the dim light. 

Bandit leads Regulus to a store room. There's a round table inside with a deck of cards and six seats. The walls are lined with shelves, stocked with all sorts of ingredients and jars. Bandit hums as he moves through the room, pulling down a pestle and a pipe. Putting them on the table, he reaches for some jars. Regulus lowers himself into a seat and waits. 

“How come he calls you, B?” Regulus asks. Bandit hesitates, glancing up at Regulus for a second. 

“Because it’s my name,” Bandit tells him with a shrug as he pours some dried plants into the bowl. 

“Will you teach me what you're doing?” Regulus asks as he watches Bandit. 

“Oh, you care?” Bandit looks a bit put out and Regulus backtracks.

“Sorry, you don't have to, I just think it's valuable knowledge.” Bandit blinks at him for a second and smiles. 

“I can teach you. See here, I have turmeric, which is really good for swelling. And if you have a cold. It’s also a good antiseptic.”

“Turmeric?” Regulus asks, reaching for the spice. “I did not know that.”

“Silly,” Bandit tells him, picking up the next one. “Add some Skullcap, this one helps with anxiety. Cloves.” 

As he speaks, he opens a jar and a pungent smell floods out, making Regulus wrinkle his nose. 

“They’re really good for numbing and swelling too. Chamomile is a mild tranquilliser. Lastly, just some Egyptian lotus for muscle relaxant, mood enhancement and euphoria.” 

Done, Bandit starts to grind the ingredients together in the pestle, before pouring the mix into a pipe and lighting it with one of the candles. He takes a big inhale from the pipe before passing it to Regulus, whose head was throbbing as much as his hand at this point. Regulus takes a deep inhale of the pipe and passes it back to Bandit. 

“Can I call you B?” Regulus asks him and Bandit smiles hazily at him. 

“Can I call you Reggie?”

“You already do that,” Regulus huffs and B giggles. 

They end up sharing the entire pipe and playing cards until Regulus feels dizzy. B laughs his ass off as he guides Regulus into one of the bunks on base and tucks him in. Regulus crashes pretty quickly. 

He eventually wakes and finds B sat with his legs crossed at the end of the bed, fiddling with something. 

“Please tell me that isn't an explosive?” Regulus mumbles sleepily and B grins down at him. 

“Sexy morning voice Reggie. It is an explosive.” Regulus blinks slowly and nods. 

“Of course it is. Are you babysitting me?” 

“Yes.” B nods tightly, looking back at the device in his hands. “Are you feeling better?” 

Regulus flexes his hand slightly and looks down to find a wet mixture on the wound. “Yes, what is this?” 

“The same mixture as before but with water applied to the wound. It’ll still fuck you up cause its going into your blood stream, but it’ll help.” 

“I’m kinda used to being fucked up now,” Regulus yawns at him. B looks at him for a long moment before giving him a lazy smile.

“Welcome to the Madhouse.” 

Regulus shifts up onto his elbows. 

“B, would you take the time to teach me hand to hand combat? I know my sword work but.. Close range?” Regulus flops back down again. “I feel like I'm going to need it.”

“Now?” B bounces off the bed and then hesitates, looking at Regulus’ hand again. 

“Can you use your non-dominant?” he asks.

Regulus glares at him. “There’s no need to insult me, B.” 

The sun sets on them in the forest as Regulus uses the Wolf’s dagger to mimic the moves B shows him. They’re similar to his sword movements, although a lot sharper and more abrupt. B moves behind him, one hand reaching to rest on Regulus’ hip, the other pressing firmly into a spot on his lower back. 

“Right here, is the best place to get someone. Right in the kidneys, it's agonizing and lethal. Plunge here and twist. Do as much damage as you can.” Regulus nods and turns, ready to attempt it with B, who also turns and highlights the spot on his own back for Regulus to identify. 

“That’s easy for when you’re behind them,” B tells him, “But when they're on top of you, especially if you’ve seduced them, you know.” 

B wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Come here.” 

He beckons at Regulus who makes a disgusted face. “Am I going to get stabbed for this?” 

“You’re hardly my type.” Regulus allows B to press himself into Regulus. Still in his t-shirt and joggers, the pressure of the body on his makes his skin scrawl but B takes his hand and leads it to the spot on his back. “Right here, yes?” 

Regulus takes a second, pulling his hand free and independently relocating the spot on B’s back. “Yeah, I see it.” 

“Good. Right. Again.” Just like with Alphard and his sword training, B runs him through the drills and mock battles, alternating scenarios until the sky turns violet and Regulus is trembling with sweat. 

“That’s enough, lads,” Horti calls. At some point he came out and took up a spot by a tree with a book, occasionally shouting out guidance for Regulus. He hefts himself to his feet now, walking over to them. “B, take Reggie inside and re-dose him up. Give him some to take home with him please, min älskling.“

B nods and wanders back towards the castle while Horti checks over Regulus. 

“Thank you,” Regulus tells him and Horti nods. 

“You should get some sleep before your mission, but I can add training with B into your schedule if you would like?” 

Regulus nods and Horti reaches out to adjust his dagger strap. “You… remind us so much of ourselves as children I think.” 

“I’m not a child,” Regulus bristles and Horti smiles. 

“I know, you’re certainly mentally mature, Reggie. But I'm more than 100 years old. I am capable of respecting you as an equal while still being reminded of my own youthful self. You’re so full of anger and strength.”

“And you’re not anymore?” Regulus asks. Horti smiles. 

“I don’t even have a name anymore, Reggie. Lethal? Yes. Skilled? Yes. Powerful? No.” Horti shakes his head and steps back. Smiling softly as he takes in Regulus. “Like this, in your human pyjamas, unsullied and determined. You seem young.” 

Regulus looks down at himself, unsure he likes the narrative. 

“Please don’t mistake me for thinking you foolish or childish. I know you have great skill and a sharp mind. You will be the best of us, I fear. I think we all just want to do what we can to keep you young for a while longer. Things happen to people like us that leave us nameless and bloodstained. We only have each other, and even then, it would be unstoppable to turn us against each other. As you learned.” 

As he gestures at Regulus’ hand, the reality of the situation really does sink in. These people here, his coworkers, are the only ones who can ever really know him. Yet, with a single command from the prince, they would betray everything about him. Each of them bound by their deals and geases, unable to protect him from their master, unloyal to their last. Even Regulus, who could lie to and for anyone, is truth bound to the Prince, should he command it. 

The reality of it seeps into Regulus’ skin, even as B appears back, watching Horti with fond eyes. How close could the two possibly be, when knowing each other was the most dangerous thing? That every aspect you knew of your partner could be taken from you against your will and used against them. 

Regulus can see it now, like a thick cloud around them, the chains of their trauma. The way their mistakes kept them down. Uncrossable distances between them. Whatever it was they gained from Prince Tom, in exchange for this separated existence, Regulus hoped it was worth it. The darkness in B’s eyes made him think not. 

He doesn’t really remember the walk home, mildly sedated on B’s new application, humming to himself softly. He feels better than he has in days. Maybe he should have been taking paracetamol and ibuprofen while taking his poisons, just to help with the side effects. 

He manages to enter the house without bumping into anyone, Alphard has been so busy with coronation prep that he’s hardly ever at dinner anyway these days. He doesn't even see his brother. He hesitates outside Sirius’ door as he passes. Regulus could swear he’s been avoiding him since.. Well, Regulus can’t blame him. Muffled sounds from inside assure him that Sirius’ is at least home. Too demoralised to argue, Regulus passes on into his own room. Inside he leans against the door with sigh, letting his satchel from B land on the floor with a soft thump. 

The boards in the bathroom creak and Regulus frowns, he thought he had longer till his mission but maybe he was more distracted on his walk than he realised. Lazily, he pushes off the door, heading over to speak with his friend. Halfway to the door frame, a spark of energy shoots down Regulus’ spine, making his skin breakout in gooseflesh. 

The Wolf would never make so many noises, he enjoyed sneaking up on Regulus way too much. Brain still hazy, he unsheathes his dagger, putting more caution in his step as he edges closer. 

He licks cracked lips and calls out, voice full of false joviality. “Don’t think I can’t hear you in there, you’re early.” 

A shadow now, as the figure inside shifts and Regulus’ heart is in his throat. He thinks he might want to cry. He definitely wants to crawl into bed, under his covers and will the bad thing away. But the bad thing is moving out of the bathroom and Regulus knows true fear in that moment as Lord Peter looms in front of him. 

“You?” he asks on a rushed exhale, the male steps closer and Regulus is not ashamed that he scrambles back. Regulus is aware, in the back of his mind, that at the Lord’s side is a large kitchen cleaver. Regulus refuses to look at it though, focusing on the male in his room. In his fucking room. 

“Why so surprised, human?” he grins. Regulus can smell the fairy wine on his breath. 

“You’re in my room,” Regulus tells him. Honestly, if he had his wits this might go better, but he’s so perturbed by this awful human in his space. 

“Nothing is yours here, human, you do not and will never belong. You will be wiped from history. When I leave here today, you will be forgotten, returned to the dirt and scum like you should always have been.” 

Soon you won’t even have a name.

The words merge together in his foggy head as the Lord moves even closer. They run through his veins like the mud he comes from. Thick and sluggish and sad. Sinking into him. 

No. 

Fuck that. 

The determination hits him with as much force as the Lord does, slamming into Regulus with the strength he needs to wake himself up. Regulus isn't ready yet. Adrenaline surges through him even as his body slams to the floor. Regulus keeps a grip of his dagger, desperate to keep his only advantage. 

The Lord body tackles Regulus, leaving them both sprawled on the floor. The Lord starts trying to wrestle one of Regulus’ arms up above his head. Regulus fights him, but not enough for him to divert his attention to Regulus’ other hand. Mainly Regulus tried to twist his face away. The Lord may be taller and magically stronger, but Regulus is broader and it’s taking all of the Lord’s body to keep him pinned. Regulus can smell him strongly and vomit rises in his throat as the Lord finally gets Regulus’ already injured hand pinned above his head. He rises up off Regulus slightly and looks down at him with black, demonic eyes. 

“I’m going to take my time with this,” he tells Regulus, raising his cleaver into the air above Regulus’s hand. 

“No. You're not,” Regulus spits back and as the cleaver comes down on his hand, Regulus stabs his blade right into the small of the Lord’s back. Regulus blacks out from the pain in his hand for a second and when he can refocus, he realises he has been mechanically plunging his dagger into the different spots of the back atop him. 

The Lord is not moving and Regulus’ tummy is wet and hot in a way that makes him heave again. He’s heavy and Regulus has to use all his remaining strength to heave the body off him. Once free, he scrambles to his feet. Sirius’ t-shirt has been ripped in the kerfuffle. He is covered in the Lord’s blood. 

The Lord himself is strewn face down on the floor. The rug under him is stained with blood. Regulus inhales once, twice. Then he throws up on the rug next to the dead body.  

What the fuck is he doing. 

Suddenly the pain in his hand comes crashing into him and Regulus looks down to realise that half of his middle finger is missing. Oh, good. 

Shaking and trembling, Regulus staggers over to the bag from B, fumbling inside for the jar of salve. Haplessly, Regulus applies it to the stump on his finger. He pulls out some of the dressing Horti gave him for his hand and tries to tourniquet his finger stump. It looks ridiculous and Regulus can’t help the hysterical laugh that bubbles out of him. 

As he stands and looks at the body again, Regulus wonders what he’s supposed to do now. The Wolf will be here soon, he would know what to do with a dead body. But Horti’s words of caution come back to him. If the others knew, they would have to tell the Prince. Then Regulus really would be in trouble. 

“Fuck!” The word spills from him in pure frustration. Lord Peter couldn’t even die right.

He hears the creek of the floorboard in the hall and realises he’s been too loud. Regulus throws himself back at the door just as the handle dips and someone tries to fling it open. He uses his body to block the door from being opened fully. Coming face to face with his brother, who has an eye mask pushed up into his hair and a scowl on his face. 

“Do you know what time it -” Sirius stops. Eyes on Regulus’ midriff. “Is that my t-shirt?” 

Regulus blinks. “Yes.” 

Sirius nods, then narrows his eyes.

“That’s… a lot of blood, Regulus.” Sirius scans his body now. 

“It is yours, right?” Sirius asks him. 

Regulus hesitates a bit too long before he speaks and even through his haze of pain and euphoria, he can see that Sirius knows it too. “Yes.” 

He tries to smile reassuringly and Sirius gasps. 

“You’re lying to me.” His brother looks furious and Regulus feels his indignation swell up his throat. 

“Isn’t that my line?” Regulus hisses back and Sirius looks away. 

“Why won’t you let me help you?” Sirius whispers, and Regulus hates that he feels bad, hates that it cuts at his heart like a sharp edge of paper. 

“Well, I can’t trust you, can I?” He didn’t even realise it was true. Didn’t know that’s what it was, this gap between them. Because for some reason, Regulus cannot trust his brother anymore. 

Sirius goes ridged, looking at Regulus with a blank face. “What do you mean by that?” 

Regulus doesn't know, he has no solid evidence. Just that prickling in his skin. 

He shrugs. “You can be compelled to tell on me, Siri.” 

His brother seems to relax for a second before frowning. 

“Just the same as you, Regulus, you're not better than-” But Sirius stops. Because Regulus is his twin and they learned how to communicate without words a decade ago, so Sirius sees it on his face. 

“You can be compelled right? Regulus?”

“Of course,” he tells him, keeping his face blank but Sirius lets out this high pitch squeak of a noise, disbelief and outrage all over his face. 

“What the hell are you getting yourself into, Regulus? Why can’t you just keep your head down for a few weeks and let me hav-” Sirius stops speaking. Looking at the floor and sucking his teeth. When he looks up, there's a mixture of tears and determination in his eyes. “It would take a geas for me to tell someone your secrets, brother.”

“There are other ways to betray me,” Regulus reminds him and Sirius shrugs.

“That’s true.” 

They stand there for a long moment, before Regulus remembers he has to deal with the body before the Wolf arrives. Regulus had seen him at base before he left, the Wolf had been checking in for sleep and told Regulus he’d be there in 5 hours. That was easily 3 hours ago now so Regulus should have time…

“Fuck. Fine. But… I don't want questions, the less you know the better. And.. Try not to freak out or throw up.” 

“I cannot believe you,” Sirius hisses at him as he regains his footing on the wet grass. Again. “I thought, ‘I want to be there for my brother. Help him how I can.’” 

Sirius grunts as he struggles with the weight of the rug and its contents. 

“Sirius, please hold it from the bottom.” 

“Regulus, I swear to god, there is a dead fucking body inside this rug, I will not get it any closer to my face!” Sirius whisper-yells back at him. 

Sirius had entered his room cautiously, taken a look at the body and instantly thrown up right next to Regulus’ own. Sirius had looked at him with wide eyes, and Regulus had shrugged and proclaimed self defense. 

“There are 14 stab wounds in this back, Regulus, I don’t think I believe you!” 

Regulus had brandished his amputated digit at him and Sirius had thrown up again. He stopped asking questions and started helping. Sirius had disappeared and returned with two pairs of washing up gloves and a roll of cling film, apparently having raided Andy’s bathroom.

Together they bundled the body up in the rug, Sirius reminding Regulus about how they folded the burritos at the Mexican restaurant they used to visit with Andy. Regulus has to take a moment, as his brother berates him about the way he’s tucking a corpse into a rug, to just really process what is happening. 

They get the Lord wrapped tightly in the old rug and then begin to bicker about the best way to cling film, eventually deciding to roll the rug into the cling film rather than trying to lift the whole thing and wrap under it. This becomes a problem when they run out of floor and have to drag the half clingfilmed, swaddled corpse back to the other side of the room just to be able to roll him back again. Twice. 

Finally wrapped up, they rolled him onto a towel and dragged him out onto the balcony. They hadn’t needed to discuss throwing him off. Sirius, simply following Regulus’ count of three, they lifted him onto the flat wall top that edges the balcony before both giving him a nice, big shove.

Sirius had point blank refused to even attempt to climb down the balcony. So, Regulus had dragged the body out the bushes on his own while Sirius went through the house and out the front door. 

“This is your fault, you know?” Regulus tells him. Sirius splutters.

“Excuse me! How was I supposed to know the sound of your room being broken into was alarming, people are breaking into your room all the time!” he hisses back. 

“Do you ever hear them breaking in?” Regulus dead pans and Sirius hesitates. 

“Well, no.” 

“My friends aren’t heard when they break and enter.”

“Bloody ridiculous,” Sirius mutters. 

“Sirius, I tried to tell you,” Regulus pleads, but Sirius is on a roll as he puts on a deep voice.

“‘Boys, I saw you in the gardens last night. What was that you were carrying?’” Sirius squeals as he almost slips again, throwing a glare at Regulus who bites his lip. Sirius continues in his own voice. “Oh, no worries Father! We just had a late night hang out with the world's largest burrito and a gigaton of weed. It was great.” 

Regulus can’t help but laugh, even as Sirius looks at him with utter rage. 

“It isn't funny, Regulus, I don't even have a plausible lie!” 

“Siri, I'm not worried about Father. If he asks, just tell him you were helping me with something. He’d probably be impressed,” Regulus huffs, adjusting his grip on the bundle. 

“Regulus. What the hell are you doing -” Sirius cuts off and breathes heavily again. Regulus appreciates that he doesn't keep asking. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles and Sirius sighs. “It really was self defense.” 

“It’s fine,” Sirius tells him calmly. 

“Well, I know it isn’t but... Thank you.” The words are hard for him to get out. Sirius looks surprised, although he brushes it off quickly.

“I could hardly leave you alone to bury a body, could I?” Regulus snorts and Sirius narrows his eyes. “Although. If you ruin another of my shirts, this will be you next time”.

They return to the house an hour later, the body now rotting in a shallow grave behind the stables. Sirius lets Regulus wash up in his bathroom and helps clean up the blood. Masking the smell of it by taking a shower himself and bringing all his lotions and sprays into Regulus’ room to do his post shower routine - whatever that means - while Regulus used Sirius’ fire to burn his clothes. 

Sirius redresses all of Regulus’ wounds with the salve from B and gives him two paracetamol. 

By the time the Wolf arrives, Regulus is calm and collected. Although, as he stands on his balcony, looking in at his room, his safe place no longer exists. Regulus has packed a bag. He cannot sleep here anymore. The backpack by his feet contains nothing sentimental. Regulus hadn’t been able to stomach the idea of taking his childhood stuffed deer into the end of iniquity he called a base. It rests on his bed, like the ghost of his childhood, in this room now sullied by the most heinous of his acts.