Blood Will Prevail

At the beginning, there were only two things Regulus Black was afraid of. The darkness of his empty, haunted room at night and bearing the heavy crown of his ancestors. He never really considered the latter, as his older brother was the first in line to be the King of England and there was no reason to doubt that he would step up to the responsibility passed on by their father. Regulus sometimes worried for him; they really loved each other and bearing royal gold on your head was not something anyone would like to do, despite popular opinion. It was not about the richness, the status. It was about treason, betrayals and hanging people for petty crimes no one was even sure they committed. It was a gruesome job for someone who can turn off their emotions and become a shell of a human, a soulless dictator of their own people. Sirius was... the exact opposite. He always did wear his heart on his perpetually grass stained sleeve. Their father always said that he was ashamed to have such a disappointing son, and that he wished Regulus was the older one. He probably thought his younger son could control his emotions just like he would control all of his people.

On one cold, winter night he was proven wrong.

As Sirius left the castle in his blood-stained clothes and eyes glossed over with tears glistening with a promise of "I'll come back for you Reggie, just hold on" you probably could hear Regulus' heart breaking all over the kingdom.

He was never the same after that.

He cried for three days without stopping.

He didn't leave his chamber for three months.

And three years later he still cursed Sirius' name as he saw his father getting worse, basically counting his days. There was a need for an heir, an honorable heir who wouldn't bring shame upon the noble name of the Black family. There was an heir. An unwilling one. It didn't matter.

"Regulus, my dearest son, I know you will not disappoint me, don't worry. Kreacher will always be there to assist you, you won't be on your own."

"I know I won't, lord." And that was a lie.

"I love you, son." And that was another one.

"I just... Don't know if I'm ready yet." And he wasn't.

Orion Black died of tuberculosis a week later.

Two weeks passed and there was another king of England. The peasants loved and trusted another man. Another father was dead and another son was doomed with the bloodstained fate. Regulus Black lost his life to the crown, so he may as well try. Try to make his parents proud, try to forget everything bad that happened to him and focus on his duty. He wasn't supposed to be his own man anymore.

Now, he belonged to England.

5 years later

Regulus wished he could say he knew what it was like being seventeen. He wished he could look in the face of the red-headed teen in front of him and feel empathy instead of burning envy. He wished he got the chance to be his age. Instead, just as he stopped being sixteen a heavy piece of gold was placed upon his dark curls and hugged his head like it belonged there. How dare it feel correct? Fitting? Like he was born to be king, to rule England? He wasn't. He knew that. So now, he was sitting in his throne with a teenager to sentence, probably to kill, and he didn't even feel bad about it. He couldn't afford empathy or understanding. There were only three things he was supposed to be- just, brave and ruthless. As the name Black commanded, he especially took the last one to heart.

"What were you doing, Weasley?"

"Where, lord?" The teen seemed amused. Regulus did not care for it.

"Don't be as foolish as your father; or maybe you want to be publicly shamed? Hanged? Beheaded? We have a very wide range of options for criminals like you."

"I'm no criminal, my lord, I was just doing my job."

"Your job? And what exactly would that be? Being a graceless, blundering spy? I truly believe a three-legged horse would possess more agility than you."

"Jesus, alright, I received the message!" There was still a tone of amusement to his voice that the king didn't like.

"Do not speak the Lord's name in vain. I believe you could use your words to answer my question instead."

"I was supposed to gain information on your brother, lord."

That moved something in Regulus. He knew about Sirius' latest... developments; of course he knew. It is not everyday that an Anglo-Saxon boy runs away to live with the Vikings and goes on to win every battle for them like some sort of hero with a martyr complex. It was pathetic, if you asked Regulus. It looked like he tried to make them fall in love with his intelligence and bravery. His brother believed he had neither of them. But the attempt was successful, and now Sirius and his "family" have become a real threat. It was unacceptable that Regulus' spies had barely any information of their current where-abouts.

"I do not have a brother. Who sends you?"

"I can't say lord, or he will kill me."

"You have to say, or I will kill you."

"I feel like this conversation will prove to be quite futile."

"Guard! Throw him in the dungeon for now, maybe it will change his mind."

The first look of panic settled into the teenagers' eyes. He was taken away forcefully, and if his arms hurt from the harsh grabbing, he didn't let them see. Regulus did not feel anything. He just started analyzing the situation. Cold, unbreaking, ruthless. It was obvious that someone from the city had taken a special interest in the fate of Sirius Black (who now was going by Potter; this was indeed an annoying piece of information that decided to burrow itself in Regulus' mind) and he had to find out the intentions of that person? Did they want to kill him? Join him? It clearly wasn’t anything helpful; they sent a spy, which meant they wanted to go behind the king’s back. That was just an unnecessary risk, a big one at that.

“Kreacher, what do you make of this?” Regulus asked an older, crooked man bathed in the shadow of the corner of the chamber. He was dressed in brown robes, similar to those of a priest or a monk. He was neither. He was nothing but Regulus’ counselor. At least that was the public knowledge; nobody had to know they were close friends, family even. Kreacher was the father that the young prince needed and the brother that the current king wanted. They were inseparable, and together with their cunning minds and great planning skills they ruled the nation. At least they liked to believe so.

“This troubles me, master. Who could want anything to do with Sirius?”

“I see only one option, and I know you see it too, my friend”

“Are you afraid of a rebellious uprising? You know no one would dare, not enough people to do you any harm at least.” Kreacher kept his calm surprisingly well.

“Here? They wouldn’t. With Potters’ and Sirius’ help? They would have an impressive opposition. And you know the Vikings have wanted to bring me down ever since Orion’s death. They doubt me, Kreacher. They don’t fear me enough.”

“So make them, master. Make them fear you. Not only here. Make the Potters fear you. All of the vikings should tremble at the mention of your name and never dare to cross your borders. You will lead this land into greatness and triumph but you won’t do it imperiled. I think you should start asserting your authority by killing the spy."

"You really think murdering a teenager who tried to put food on his family's table is the right move?" Regulus asked ironically. "They will hate me, Kreacher, there will be a bigger opposition."

"What is the use of an opposition that is too scared to take any action against you?" He spoke like he always did- slow, careful, with a weird little accent; the king still felt an undertone of urgency in his voice.

"I will think about it… That's all for now. Would you call for Rosier on your way out?"

"Of course, master. But I feel the need to remind you that this is an urgent matter."

"I know, Kreacher, and I said I will think about it. Please, go." Regulus sounded torn, but deep down he knew what he was going to do, he always did.
He was going to listen to his friend's advice.

Bill Weasley paced around his cell in the dungeon unaware that in someone's mind, he was already dead. And so it happens that the mind belonged to the only person who could show mercy upon him in this situation. He was sure he was getting out; who would doom a teenager for just trying to survive? What kind of a monster would do that? Kill a kid? For some unimportant information? He was safe, right?

And as the spiral continued, his already borrowed time started being wasted on despair.

****
"I searched the east road today. I started from the castle, went all the way through. Tavern by tavern, house by house and still nothing. How could someone just vanish into thin air, Evan?"

A dark-haired, tall woman with chocolate skin and eyes in all shades of honey approached him next to the stables. She was wearing silver armor, not dissimilar to Evan's. There was a long sword attached to her back in a leather scabbard. The handle had a long snake engraved around it, decorated with all kinds of small, green stones. Her hair, braided with great precision, was sitting tied on the back of her head; dark green beads hanging from the ends of some braids.

"I don't know, Meadowes. Maybe we should consider the possibility that he just went off drunk somewhere and is laying dead in a ditch?"

"You don't mean that. I know you don't. But even if it's true, I will search every god-damned ditch in England to find him, bring him back to life and kick his ass."

"I do mean that. He's been gone for months, and he's a sappy fuck, so he wouldn't just leave us with no clue where he went. He's dead, get over it and stop needlessly searching for a ghost. Does it make you feel better?" He sounded almost disgusted.

Dorcas stared at him in disbelief. What did he say that she didn't already suspect?

"Yes, it does, Evan. If I was gone it would be comforting to think that my friends would search day and night for me." She looked at him with growing disappointment. "But now, I know I wouldn't dare to hope that. Jesus, what happened to you?"

"Life, life happened. Have to be realistic, Cas."

"Don't call me that, don't you dare. Find me when you start to care or won't be afraid to admit that you do."

And like that, she was gone.

Evan turned around to face the stable, calmly regarded it and his surroundings. When his friend was no longer in sight he ran up to the nearest corner and promptly threw up. When his stomach had nothing else to be rid of, a choked sob wretched through his body. And another one. Another. He felt his back touch the wooden wall of the stable. Then he felt himself sliding down slowly. Then the cold wheat beneath him. Breathe, Evan, for god's sake, breathe. Tears kept welling up in his eyes, but he wouldn't let them fall. He couldn't. He can't start crying now or he will never stop. He couldn't catch his breath, the world was blurry and empty, so empty without his best friend. Barty hated Evan and finally left him to rot on the battlefield. Barty was hurt during a mission. Barty was dead. Dead. Barty was dead and Evan didn't even get to say goodbye. Barty is alive, but wants nothing to do with Evan. Dead. Dead. De-

A wet touch on his cheek brought him back to reality. He looked up to see his black horse nudging his face. There was one thing Evan was sure of, and that was if horses could even feel worry, this was the most worried one he has ever seen. It inched closer, but not too close and tried to get Evan to pet it. He did, of course he did, he loved that animal.

"It's okay girl, I'm fine now." He wasn't. He wanted to think that he was. The feeling of his hand against the soft dark fur kept bringing him back to reality. “At least I know you won’t leave me, you’re quite literally tied to a pole.” A soft laugh arose from his lips. Maybe if he doesn't think about hi- about it, it would be better. Less painful, less troublesome. Yes, that was a good idea.

Not a single thought about Barty will plague Evan’s mind from now on.

****

“You have to be fucking kidding me, Reg.”

“I hoped that you wouldn’t have issues with one simple task? Especially one so closely concerning you.”

“Yeah, guess what, it doesn’t concern me anymore. He always talked about running off, maybe he just went and did it.” Evan tried to keep his voice as steady as he could. It sounded almost like he didn’t care at all.

“You know he wouldn’t. Not without telling us.” Regulus’ voice trembled, it was clear that his facade had dropped in front of his close friend. Evan didn’t share the same bravery.

2 years ago

“I will abolish this whole fucking kingdom, take Evan under my left arm, Dorcas under my right and you, Reg will ride on my back like on one of those royal horses.” said Barty, grinning widely.

“What about me?” a white-haired girl exclaimed. She looked… delicate. Dangerous. Somehow both at once. “And also, why are the royal horses royal? What decides that? I think all horses have the grace worthy of kings.”

“Dora, do you even have to ask? I will leave you behind to curse this whole city and then you will teleport back to us using your witchy powers.” He said it like it was obvious. “Oh, and the royal horses become royal the second Regulus’ ass touches their back.”

“I will have you both beheaded. I really should, I will have you know. I can’t have a pagan witch and a godless spy talking about treachery in my city.” The king muttered with a hint of amusement.

“Oi, Reggie, you’re as godless as any of us, you just seem to love torturing yourself with this religious act. That's what I'll never get." Evan joined the conversation, waking up from a comforting haze of lying with his friends on the grass somewhere where no one could find them.
Their spot under the old willow had always been their safe space where they weren't kings, soldiers or witches. They were just a group of stupid friends talking nonsense for hours at a time.

"Yes, I know you won't, that's the reason I'm the King and not you."

"I could be a king, I have royal blood, Reg!"

"You're also as stupid as the horse you spend weird amounts of time with."

"Hey! Leave her alone!"

"Yeah, leave Luna alone, Regulus!" The witch pretended to be gravely offended, mocking Evan and his reaction.

"I told you, Dora, I'm not naming her Luna, that's just pretentious."

"I will curse you if you don't."

"Oooh, I'm so scared.." said Evan mockingly.

"Can you both just shut up already?! You're missing my point! Let's run away, together. We could go to Denmark, pretend we are vikings or live in a forest where no one would ever find us and-" Barty didn't get to finish the sentence.

"Stop, Barty. Why are you doing this to yourself? You know we're all doomed with this life."

"No, Regulus, we aren't. But for some reason, we keep choosing to be."

2 years later

"Maybe we overestimated him. Maybe he grew sick of this life, of us being cowards and finally got his freedom." Evan said through his clenched teeth.

“So you will just let this be? Even if he needs help?” The King sounded like he couldn’t believe the words that just came out of his mouth.

“He doesn't. If he does, I can’t help him, so why should i torture myself with the thought?”

“This isn’t you, Evan.”

“This is who I am, Reg, you just have been too blinded by our friendship to see it.

With those words, it felt like one of many strings connecting their souls just broke away permanently, never to be fixed. The room turned cold and their eyes seemingly devoid of any love they had for each other stared at each other blankly. Was this how it was going to be now? Their burning friendship, jokes, so much shared laughter would go to waste? Evan tried not to think too much about it, because he was terrified what would happen if he did. So instead, he just turned around slowly and left. He didn’t say goodbye and he didn’t turn back on his way out.

****
Regulus honestly didn’t think he could bear this much longer. The tension in his palace, a suspicion of revolt brewing in the kingdom and the hole in his heart that just kept expanding each and every day, with every disappointment and thought of those who he lost, and those he was currently losing. The worst of all; he never wanted this life. He never asked for it. It was just handed to him on a silver platter by his father when he wasn’t even ready. For most of it he wasn’t worried, as he held tightly to the promise from his brother. A promise of protection, of brotherly, selfless love. And then, eight years later, here he was: unloved, bitter and alone. Blood of criminals and innocent people stained his hands, impossible to wash off and impossible to see. He was made a murderer, a fraud and a liar, when all he ever wanted to do was live in peace. There was a small village in the woods about four days’ ride from the palace. Sirius always told him about it in his nighttime stories. He spoke of a warm family, full of love. People having fun, growing their food, raising children in the way of love, not war. He probably made it all up to make his little brother feel a little bit better about humanity, but Regulus still dreamed about this place every night. The life he could never have tortured him like a ghost from the past, haunting his mind and the cold bed in his empty chamber. Some nights he slept peacefully, imagining the laughter of children and the sun on his face. Some - he screamed when his mind showed him all the different ways his command led to killing and destroying so many of those villages, so many families. Tonight, it was the latter.

He woke up abruptly, covered in sweat, his hair stuck to his forehead. What was worse, he couldn’t even remember the dream. He just remembered blood, blood, screams and wails and cries and so much blood. The metal taste on his tongue reminded him of the bitter smell of death. After a couple of deep breaths he finally came back to himself, but the realization that the taste of blood on his tongue was not a figment of his imagination suddenly hit him. He got up from the bed, and started walking around the chambers. Half awake, he wandered into a room that was well known to him. Too close, yet so extremely far. His body seemed to remember the safe haven away from his nightmares. Regulus, even after all those years, still searched for the comfort of his brother when he felt terror in his bones. But the reality hit him right away. The chamber was cold. Empty. Unused and untouched for over eight years. He scolded himself in his head and immediately left the room. The grief and confusion were quickly overtaken by anger.

Regulus found himself walking to the dungeons. He moved with purpose, quick and agile, as he realized there was something he had to do. As he reached his destination and opened the big, wooden door a guard greeted him, but he was quick to get rid of him by asking for some privacy. The king approached a small cell, with metal bars and a small window which was letting in some moonlight. There was a thin, curled up body laying and shivering on the cold ground.

“Weasley.” Regulus whispered with a sense of urgency. “Weasley, wake up.”

The red headed boy slowly woke up and instantly jumped up into a sitting position when he saw his King standing above him with a cold, piercing stare. Bill instinctively scrambled for something to grab, to protect himself, but there was nothing except some hay and dirt below him.

“H-how can I help you, my lord?”

“Let’s drop the Lord for now, Bill. I need you to tell me something.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“What do you know about Sirius? Where is he? What are his plans?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. You should know this, you caught me trying to hear something from you and your advisor, and it’s clear you know as much as I do.”

“Do you take me for a fool? Again? Do you honestly believe I would think you have only one source? Tell me, that’s an order.”

“I thought we were past the Lord part of our relationship.” Bill said with amusement.

A new wave of anger possesed Regulus as he hit his palm on the bars with all the frustration he had left.

“Don’t fucking try me, spy.”

The King was gone for a moment, now, standing in the dark, humid dungeon he was a child again. A furious teenager just left by his brother, by the only person he loved. And now, he wanted revenge. He wanted to kill this part of him. This pain. This grief and weakness. He wanted to kill Sirius. Watch his rotting corpse and feel the last piece of the love for this world he carefully hoarded somewhere deep within his bones pass away. So he made up his mind. He was going to become Cain, disregarding any possible punishment from God. He will not rest until he becomes the ruthless King he was always supposed to be.

Bill, now scared again, went silent for a moment. As he weighed his options, he finally came to a conclusion.

“Why would I tell you anything? You are still going to kill me, it would be stupid.” He said, calculated and cold, which was very unusual for him.

“Tell me and I won’t.” Regulus started to bargain.

“And I’m supposed to believe you? Just like that?”

“I promise you. On God, I promise, on my faith.”

“Well, that means something, right? You would never use God like this, you wouldn’t dare.”

“No, I wouldn’t. Not unless I wanted to burn in hell.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me. But I need more than that. Open the door, let me out and I will tell you.”

Regulus pretended to think this over thoroughly. In reality, he knew that the guard he sent away was right behind the door to the dungeons. The answer was obvious, he professed to take the gamble and opened the door. Of course, he knew that the kid would try to run away, so he grabbed his collar and threw him against the cell, choking him with his forearm.

“Well, you’re stronger than we thought.” Bill said, almost laughing, trying to grasp for air.

“Who’s we?” Regulus smiled menacingly.

“People who see right through you. Well, maybe we were wrong.”

“You’re not helping your case here, Weasley.”

“Fuck, okay, I will tell you, just… Just let me go back to my family, they can’t survive on their own.”

“Do you really think I’m a monster? I promised you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah… Okay… okay.” Bill seemed to drop his facade, and now Regulus saw that he was just a terrified little boy, trying to make a living for his family. He wasn’t innocent, but he never wanted this life. It was clear now; he wanted to be good. To help. And maybe, just maybe, Regulus knew deep down that Bill Weasley was a good person.