In the blink of an eye, everything's washed away.
It takes no more than just a breath for everything to change.
And nothing's right and it feels like I've lost the way.
It had always started with expectations. Some good, some bad, some just in between.
It felt like a new chance, something that was supposed to start beautifully, and end beautifully. But when that blissful period came to a close, all those memories would be washed away with bittersweet rain pouring down, endlessly drenching what was meant to last forever, because, as Fate would whisper, nothing is meant to last forever.
A window to a chance at something new, that's what it had felt like.
But they didn't deserve a happy ending, didn't deserve a a chance at 'once upon a time' and 'happily ever after.'
Their lives weren't a fairytale, had never meant to be one, so perhaps, their ending was already pre-written, and the things they were chasing after were nothing but an illusion that they could break free of their fate.
There once was a prince.
He wasn't a special prince, wasn't a prince who sought to rebel against his position, or a prince who sought to be perfect. He was just a prince bound to a crown that was bound to his family. Because family was blood, and blood was everything.
But the crown was heavy, and when Regulus' head was forced down by the weight, and he could no longer unsee the blood on his fingers, he would walk to the sea. He would walk along the sand, following the lines of the waves until he was far enough that when he looked back, all that was left of the castle was a splotch of glass.
Regulus knelt down, and washed his hands in the water until his fingers were scrubbed raw. The water was cold, even though the sea was supposed to align with the sun’s whispers. Perhaps nature's grip had loosened slightly, making room for some inaccuracy - because at the end of the day, a little weakness never hurt anybody, right?
Somewhere, in his mind, the image of his brother walking into this very sea haunted him.
He scrubbed harder.
Somewhere not too far off, there was a siren.
The siren watched the prince, eyes gleaming with a sort of hunger that he had never felt before. Obsessive hunger.
Swimming towards the shore, he kept his head low and remained at a distance.
And then he began to sing.
Barty kept his voice soft, kept it as a lost melody on the wind, and watched as it reached the prince. The prince straightened stiffly, stood up, and looked around. Barty raised his voice ever so slightly, let the soft sound become clearer as he watched the prince turn towards the sea once more, gaze intent on finding a target.
If the prince had left, then, perhaps everything could've been fine.
The prince should've left.
He didn't.
Instead, the prince seemed to look straight at Barty, catching him off guard for a moment. He faltered, blinking, before he smiled and started singing again, remaining far enough the prince wouldn't be able to see anything but a shimmer of sun on his scales as he raised his tail, ever so slightly, in a mockery of a wave.
There are monsters in the water, Sirius had told him, back when they were seven and nine, too young to understand what the word 'monsters' really meant. Monsters who will lure you to them, and drink your blood. They will rip out your soul and keep it for themselves, locked under the sea for eternity.
Regulus' eyes had widened, then, and he had snuggled closer to his brother, his heartbeat quickening.
Now, seventeen with a brother no longer, Regulus watched one of those monsters swim away, a distant splash the only indication that it hadn't been a trick of the light that Regulus had seen and heard.
Regulus watched, and a sick part of him wanted to wave, wanted to shout and ask, was it true? Do you have him? Do you have my brother? But he kept his mouth shut and just watched until the sea was once again just the sea. The sun had just begun to set, casting colours across the sky and setting the water ablaze with reds, yellows, and orange.
Then, silently, he turned and started making his way back to the castle, an itch taking place under his skin. He pulled himself away from the sea at his heels - calling, begging - and walked away.
Come back. He prayed, in his mind, Please, come back and sing for me again.
Barty came back, the next day.
He waited for the prince, humming softly to himself. He wasn't sure why he hadn't struck last evening and let his siren song influence the other boy, but some part of him whispered, watch and wait.
Eventually, the prince came, his crown removed and his movements slow and relaxed as he made his way down the sand. The sun had already set. He was later than he had been the day before. This time, he sat down, and Barty watched as he stilled, head raised towards the sea. Barty let the song on his lips rise in volume, let the melody reach the prince.
He watched, satisfied, as the prince straightened. He threaded his language through the melody, let hints of an indeciphrable, yet hauntingly beautiful language make its way to the prince.
With a small splash, Barty's pupils narrowed, a sly, shark-like smile on his face as he dipped below the waves, swimming closer to the prince. His father would've descaled him for the crime, but, with steady movements, he swam to the shore anyways.
The prince's attention remained on waves that threatened to reach him, a longing look on his face.
The darkness hid Barty well, his silhouette blending right in with the shady waters, and he ran a hand through his dark hair to remove any seaweed that clung to him. With a stretch of the legs, he ascended onto land with his ice-blue ragged pants, the only remainder of his tail, cool sand grains welcoming him warm-heartedly.
The prince didn't spot him, and so Barty drew closer, quickly adapting to his tail-turned legs.
Barty watched the prince, and something in him awakened. His eyes grazed over the prince's wavy black hair, falling in loose curls above his ears. His skin was pale and smooth, flawless. As the prince turned his head, Barty caught a glimpse of startling silver eyes, framed by long, dark lashes. I want you. He thought.
He spoke, carefully pronouncing the human tongue, "Hello."
The beach was empty, as usual. People thought they felt the presence of the unburied dead in the water, and though Regulus could still see Sirius' fading silhouette, he forced himself to the seaside every evening regardless.
So when a low voice spoke, Regulus jolted, immediately turning to find the source of the voice. Silver eyes met electric-blue ones and his lips parted in shock. The stranger was dressed sparingly, topless, but navy blue scales traveled up the sides of his torso, making their way around his neck until they disappeared into his dark hair.
He was hauntingly beautiful, if Regulus was mad enough to call him that.
"Hello," Regulus replied, quietly. "Who are you?" I think I know, He thought, I think I already know.
The stranger offered a slash of a smile, shoving off sharpened teeth. "You would not be able to pronounce my name in your tongue." He answered, with a strange, lilting and melodic accent. His voice seemed to wrap around Regulus, and he found himself yearning for more.
"In my tongue." Regulus repeated. "Okay." The air was still around them, the crashing waves the only other sound as the two stood, face to face. "Why are you here?" He asked. Why didn't you call me to you?
The creature smiled. "Because of you," Was all he offered, before falling silent. Regulus felt him stare, felt him look Regulus up and down.
I'm standing with a monster. Regulus thought, and a strange, confused laugh threatened to bubble out of him. He lashed it down at the very last moment, with one last comment to himself, If only Sirius could see me now.
The moon was slowly rising, shining a soft, silvery-white light on the two of them. The siren seemed to glow under the light, his scales shimmering, a soft gradient of dark blues under the light of the moon. Regulus felt drawn to him, in a strange way, in the marrow of his bones and in the spaces between his ribs.
Somewhere in his mind, he reminded himself that he should've felt fear, should've felt his blood rushing below his skin and his heartbeat quicken.
And while he did feel both those things, he knew, instincitvely, that it wasn't because of fear.
"I would ask your name." Barty asked the prince, his own tongue's accent pressed back so he didn't overwhelm the boy. His eyes danced with mischief, his lips yearning to taste the boy's blood on his tongue.
A song sang through him. Song of the ocean, song of the sea, song of the blood that rushed through his veins. It wasn’t just the taste. It was history, and satisfaction.
The prince tilted his head to the side, gaze unwavering as he said, "You haven't yet earned it, siren." Barty bared his teeth in a parody of a smile, eyes glinting.
"Bold." He said, and this time, he spoke in his own language, a song falling from his lips. But I'll have your name from your lips, just you wait. Too late, he realized what he had said; the prince's eyes glazed over, his lips parting as if to speak.
When he had been younger, he had delighted in waiting for his victim's eyes to glaze over, to watch emotion wash off their face before ripping his teeth through his victims, watching the blank, longing look in their eyes fade into pain. He thought he would feel the same, now.
He couldn't have been more wrong.
Barty recoiled, a low snarl escaping from him. He wanted to tell the prince to stop, wanted to take back his words, wanted to watch the prince become full his, out of his own choice, but to his surprise, the prince was already shaking his head, panting softly as he broke free from the siren song.
And so, for the first time, he felt what it was like to feel conflicted for his influence over his prey. He wasn't sure how to name the feeling that had burst into existence, but just the mere thought of the sight of the prince's mind becoming empty again had him struggling to keep the emotion off his face.
He was glad that he hadn't been wrong about the prince, though. "You broke free," Barty commented, a delighted smile on his face.
The prince had a strange emotion on his face, but all he said in return was, "Did you really doubt me?"
Barty raised a slender, scaled hand, tracing the prince's jaw as he answered, "Perhaps." The prince stilled, and Barty laughed, gaze skipping over the prince's shoulder and onto the sea. The waves were calling him back. He let his arm drop, and then turned, walking forwards while the prince gazed after him.
With the ocean’s ripples flowing over his feet, he looked over his shoulder and laid his gaze on the prince.
“See you tomorrow,” he said, before he seemed to flow right into the water, a soft glint of moonlight on scales the only sign of him left as he disappeared into the dark maws of the sea.
The prince, still as a statue, watched, and a soft, echo of a smile grazed over his face.
Regulus was off-kilter, the next day. There was something below his skin, something that begged and pleaded and pushed to be let out, desperate to escape. He ignored it, as he often did, as he made his way down to the sand, trembling from the echoes of his mother's shouts, and the blood that often came with it.
He stood by the water, closed his eyes, and breathed in deep. The dark clouds above him rumbled, threatening to rain, and for a brief moment, he thought, I should go.
Nonetheless, he sat down by the water, and waited.
He waited underneath the overcast sky and challenged the somber clouds to hurl their biggest raindrops down on him. He waited as the smell of petrichor lacing through the air filled his lungs until such sad weather had overrun his thoughts. His eyes remained closed, his tense body slowly relaxing, moment by moment.
Finally, when he opened his eyes again, he was met with sparkling blue eyes, dancing with amusement. "You came." Regulus murmered, his voice soft, calm once more. He let his attention rest on the creature, a hazard so life-threatening that precautions should've been taken in order to ensure safety; something so dangerous, it should've been left alone. Should've.
"I said I would." The siren replied, in that strangely beautiful accent of his. And Regulus knew he wanted more of it, the thing in him wanted more of it. Regulus stood, shrugging off his newly-tailored jacket and dropping it to the sand.
He said, slowly, "You live in the water." A pause. "It must be nice."
Regulus thought of his own- not home. He thought of shining glass and the stark red that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. He thought of his mother, her sharp laugh and cutting words, her nails, sharpened, and her eyes, the same eyes he had. He thought of his father, watching and waiting for his turn to shout, for his turn to snap and go mad with anger. Both of them, built to hurt.
He though of his brother. Don't think about him. He thought of warmth and courage, thought of fairytales and happily-ever after's. I miss you. He thought of protection and safety, thought of having someone that was genuine. Where did you go? He thought of bravery and recklessness, thought of pain and punishment. I still need you. He thought of the blood-stained waters and tears that had tasted like salt, thought of a funeral and his new crown.
He thought, and he hated himself for it.
Regulus looked at the siren, and he wondered if the water was just as diverse as his own- home. It had to be home. Nothing else- There was nothing else left for him if he didn't call it home. His family was blood, and if nothing else, blood was the only thing he had left, the only thing left that belonged to him.
Barty felt like laughing. The prince didn't know, of course. How could he, when humans seemed to love painting the waters as nothing but pretty seashells and coral, beautiful, but harmless. None of them would survive the tide when it grew hungry.
The prince couldn't have known of the shipwrecks that reeked of greed, the vicious current and its everlasting hunger, the deep blues home to creatures that haven’t even seen a beam of sunlight before. He only knew of the kind shore that very generously offered the smallest of waves and the prettiest of shells, its dark side only metaphors that served to fulfill empty lines in a verse.
No, he couldn't have known. And yet, when Barty looked at him, his eyes flashed with a sharpness that didn't belong to the humans. Barty wanted to dig deeper, wanted to rip apart his skin and search in his blood until he found what made him so very different from everyone else. He wanted to shatter this perfect, porcelain prince, and keep the pieces embedded in himself for eternity.
"It can be." Was all he answered, water still dripping from his dark hair. "Perhaps it is just like living on land." The prince smiled, at that, and Barty grinned in return, his blood roiling for more, more, more, more from him.
"You know, humans have tried to hunt sirens before." The prince said, soft and careful. This time, Barty did laugh, sharp and a little wild. He raised his hand, letting his scales multiply, wrapping around his fingers fully. His nails lengthened, sharp and gleaming.
He nodded, "They have certainly tried." Barty smiled, crooked, nothing more than a slash of sharp teeth. "The only thing the humans succeded in was satisfying our hunger." The song in his voice grew thicker as he spoke, and he watched as the prince's eyes widened slightly, lips parting. Barty waited to see fear, waited to see some sign of nervousness from the human. But the prince only stared, his lips twitching upwards, breath hitching in his throat.
Oh, how Barty wanted to taste his blood in his mouth.
"You are not afraid." He commented, mildly.
The prince answered, eyes narrowed slightly. "Should I be?"
Regulus felt almost drunk on the creature's voice, a lazy, small smile on his face as he took a step forward, waiting for the answer. He felt more relaxed than he had in a while, attention caught on the siren's eyes, a unerving pool of blue that seemed to have caught the essence of the seas, shifting in hues whenever they caught the light.
"You should." He replied, leaning forward slightly, and catching Regulus by surprise. His eyes were bright, glowing as if something in him was fueling his every move. "I'm glad you're not." The words were low, spoken like an admission of guilt, something that had been twisting between them, not supposed to be captured and brought to life.
Regulus, trapped by those four words, whispered, so softly that if the recipitent hadn't been a creature of blood and song, wouldn't have been able to hear them his words at all. "I want you to sing for me."
The siren's eyes widened, the waves sweeping past their feet rushing forward, further than they had ever gone before. There was hunger in him, Regulus knew, a hunger that would devour him piece by piece. But Regulus was ready for it, had been waiting for someone to want him fully for too long, that he welcomed it, savoured it in between his teeth and under his tongue.
It tasted, Regulus thought with delight, something like blood.
They both had gone still. Somewhere in the past few minutes, it had started raining. The rain slid down Regulus' face, wet and cold against his skin. The sky rumbled, and light flashed behind the clouds, eager, so eager to wet the earth with its waters.
"Sing?" The siren finally echoed, the word so different coming from his mouth. Regulus wanted, needed more of it, wanted to listen and let the thoughts wander out of his mind, let his song flow through his veins and imprint itself in his brain.
Regulus nodded.
Something in Barty seemed to shift, a whisper of laughter skipping over his skin. There was something in his heart, growing and growing the longer he stayed with the prince, something that threatened his very being and completed it at the same time.
How his heart had yearned to hear those words from the prince. And yet, he didn't now how he would feel to see the prince so blank once more, didn't know how he would feel now that they had been connected, weaved together by something out of their control. Before, it had just been the prince, the siren. Now it was the prince and the siren, bounded by the fabric of fate.
This was difference, from last time. Different in the way the prince had asked for it, different in the way Barty knew he couldn't refuse.
"I don’t think you could stand it." He finally answered, pressing back his natural instinct with everything he had. The words felt like someone else's, something he'd stolen from someone who actually kept their heart clean and whole. Barty felt hesitant, in a way he hadn't felt for a very long time, too used to the wild waters and simple hunger for far too long.
The prince met his eyes steadily, holding him there. "Don't doubt me like you did last time." He said, voice soft with a sharp undertone like the fin on a shark’s back; cold but unwilling to hurt unless you pushed it to. It was a warning, Barty registered, somewhere in the back of his mind. Had the prince been anyone else, Barty would've laughed and walked back into the water.
But it was the prince.
And Barty had already known he wouldn't be able to refuse.
"Okay." He finally said, and this time, it was acceptance.
He didn't need to look hard to find it, didn't need to dig deep and crawl through murky thoughts to find the prince's desires. He knew that, already, from the brief glimpse he had caught from a distance. The prince's desires were blaringly clear, a shout, a scream, a cry for someone, anyone, from the depth of his chest.
The song in Barty laughed, cackled, when he finally reached for the prince, and felt want, want for the sky and the waters, want for the world around them, want for the ability to float away without the sharp, cruel claws of his blood dragging him back, want for a family, a family, a family -- a family? A family without expectations and without an underlying tone of satisfaction whenever they dug their talons into him and drew blood?
Barty saw through the prince so clearly it almost hurt. Like looking through a warped, shattered mirror, cracked open like a window, with bright, unfiltered light burning whatever it touched.
You are shattered like me, Barty thought, and laughed a little.
He started singing.
The siren started singing, and it was unlike anything Regulus had ever heard before. He had never heard it so clear before, the song hauntingly beautiful. The words, incomprehensible to Regulus, twisted with the melody, wrapping itself around him and threading and weaving through his bones, settling underneath his skin.
It ripped into him, gentle as his mother's hands had been so long ago. Ripped him open, and sewed him back together, loose threads all over.
His body felt loose, like a doll with no joints, he couldn't feel himself in it, as if he were outside, watching and listening with no other care in the world. The siren seemed to glow as he sang, his eyes lighting up with each word sung, the song wrapping tighter and tighter around Regulus until-
Until-
"Regulus."
Sirius was standing in front of him, grey eyes bright with amusement as he waved Regulus over, a large smile on his face. They were standing by the sea, barefoot, dressed in plain clothing. "Look out there," He pointed to the waves, and Regulus walked over to his brother, dazed. "Do you see that?" The waves seemed to grow larger and larger with each passing moment, and as Regulus turned his attention to the water, he saw flashes of light and colour and sound and what is happening who is that why is his brother here why why why.
Regulus blinked, and everything was normal again. "Wait." Regulus turned back to Sirius, who looked happy, content, perfectly fine in a ways Regulus had never seen his brother look. Sirius had always looked muted, in the castle, grey and lost, unable to pull himself out of the trap that was their blood. "You left me."
His head pounded.
Sirius looked confused, tilting his head to the side before rolling his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. I would never do that." Never, never, nevernevernev- He would never do that. Never? Never.
"Shall we?" Sirius asked, as if nothing had happened. Regulus knew, immediately, that Sirius wanted to swim. He smiled, soft, nodding as he took his brother's hand. Sirius took a step into the water, and something in Regulus' mind screamed.
Don't go into the water, Sirius. Please, stop, Sirius. Please, Sirius, where are you going, stop, stop, stop.
Regulus squeezed his eyes shut, his mind flooding with images and sounds, a mild pain in his body that grew and grew and grew until it overtook his senses completely. He was still holding his brother's hand when the song made itself clear again. Regulus braced himself, tense, and let the song take over him again, let it overwhelm him completely until it shattered, fracturing into many little pieces that continued burrowing into his mind, trying and trying and trying to take his consciousness.
He shook his head, inhaled sharply, and forced the song to rest.
And when Regulus opened his eyes again, his mind was his.
Barty walked closer to the prince as he sang, his heart clenching in his chest -- tightening and squeezing until he felt he could barely breathe. And yet, he continued, even as the prince's eyes glazed over, he continued, because in the end, Barty was made out of his song, and he would always enjoy watching it take affect, even if there was another part in him now, a part that screamed and clawed for him to stop. But he had always been born to sing and born to kill, in a oh, so twisted way, and so he didn't stop.
He watched the prince's hands clench, face twisted. He watched the prince take a step towards the water, watched him freeze, still as the cold air between them. Sometime ago, between then and now, the rain had stopped its downpour, but the sand was still dark, and the space between them still felt fresh, something washed away with the waves now that the rain had stopped.
Barty watched the prince's whole body tense up, watched and sang until the prince opened his eyes again, facing towards the wide, open waters that had been waiting for him. He continued singing, and this time, something had changed in the prince, Barty could feel it. A part of him relished in it, delighted in the fact that he had been right in trusting him, had been right in trusting that he could manage to free his mind.
His voice becoming softer and softer until he finally stopped, Barty stood, and waited for the prince to face him, the sense of rightness finally settling into his bones, everything sliding into place.
The prince belonged to him now, in every way that counted.
The prince, on unsteady feet, turned to face him, eyes brimming with unshed tears, lips parted slightly. He didn't need to say anything, for there was nothing to say to the one who had seen deeper inside him than anyone else had gone before. Barty arched an eyebrow, tilted his head slightly, and smiled.
No going back now.
He stepped past the prince, sliding into the water and disappearing before the prince could say anything, the waves washing past the prince, and leaving him still-dry, a forever promise and a reminder.
I'll see you later.
Regulus inhaled sharply, the breath in his chest held there for a moment before he released it, squeezing his eyes shut once before opening them once more, the world around him seemingly so vivid that he couldn't take it. Sometime ago, his hands had tightened into fists, clenched, nails digging into his skin. He forced himself to stay still, fighting the urge to turn around and look for the siren once more.
He slowly uncurled his fingers, focusing his gaze on the crescent-shaped indents left behind in his palm, the slight pain washing over him now that he wasn't trapped in his own mind.
Wiping at his eyes gently, he finally gave in, turning around once more. He gazed further out, realizing after only a few more moments of silence that he wasn't looked for the siren after all. He was looking for-
I was looking for you, brother. He thought, and the thought loosened the weight on his chest. But I need look no longer.
Turning away, he walked back to the castle in the distance, a weight off his shoulders, and something churning in the air around him.
And so it went, day after day, night after night, stolen pockets of time away from everything. Sometimes, they talked. Other times, they remained in silence, watching the waves wash over the sand in front of them and the stars above them.
It wasn't much, in the grand scheme of things, but for them, it seemed like everything.
"I want to love you so badly it hurts," The prince admitted once, softly, quietly, a secret, to be blown away by the wind had Barty not caught it by the tail end of the sentence.
He hummed, replying, "I never minded causing pain."
And that was that.
Regulus lifted a hand, brushing the scales in the siren's face. "Do they fall off?" He asked, curiosity lighting in his eyes.
"Not unless someone forces them to," The siren replied, voice low, and Regulus knew without asking that it had happened before.
Regulus asked, "Did it hurt?"
"It wasn't the pain that mattered."
"Can you stay?"
Barty replied, "Not forever."
"I don't need forever," The prince replied, "I just need now."
"I had a brother," Regulus said, the words brittle and cold from his mouth. "I loved him."
The siren nodded, "I know."
Nothing else was said that day.
The prince noticed his scars, one day.
Barty could feel his gaze, weighted on his back. It traveled upwards, following the lines up until his neck. He turned, light glinting off the smattering of scales along his back.
"I have them too." The prince said, when met by his unfaltering stare.
Just anothing thing they shared, another thing two broken, broken things had in common.
He set a slow pace across the sand, feet sinking into the grains still damp from an earlier downpour, and turned his head towards the shore. It was disturbingly quiet as evening phantoms danced their way around him, a chilly breeze slicing through his hair.
The siren was waiting for him.
"You are late." He said, the words foreign in his mouth.
Regulus nodded, but didn't apologize. The siren didn't push, and for that, he was grateful. He knelt in the sand, pushing back a wave of pain as he put weight on the bruise covering his leg. Keeping his eyes on the horizon, he asked, "Do you ever dream for," He paused, hesitant, "Something better?"
"I don't dream." Came the simple reply, but nestled between the words were an subtle agreement, sewn between each letter. It was a fragile, unstable little thing, the knowing they possessed. And yet strangely, it was something Regulus didn’t want to give up on so soon.
Eventually, they ended up in the sea; hands brushing against each other. And it was cold. Still, it wasn't cold enough that the prince should've been trembling, body stiff, eyes wide.
Barty narrowed his eyes, looking the prince up and down. "You don't like the water." It wasn't a question, just an observation, an accusation, wrapped tightly in one sentence.
“I’ll be fine,” The prince said, even as he kept his gaze on the horizon, steadily avoiding looking at the water. “Besides, even if I get swept away, you’ll be there to bring me back. I trust you." Barty flinched at the words, feeling them tear through him and lay him bare, but didn't argue, moving forwards and taking the prince's hand in his.
They spent the rest of that night together like that, fingers resting perfectly against each other, puzzle pieces fitting together.
It only took one night for all to be ruined, one night when time stuttered to a stop, the brewing storm finally releasing all the thunder held within its eye. The world shattered, pieces flung across the room, bringing blood wherever they landed. They all felt it, those interwound by fate and time.
And Regulus?
Regulus ran.
Through the castle and out onto the sand. Drops of blood fell like sand grains in an hourglass, leaving a trail behind him as he made his way towards the waves, face pale, but lips stretched into a smile. He ran until he saw the figure of the siren, looking out over the waters, waves brushing over the sand, under his feet.
The siren turned at the sound of footsteps, and faltered.
Regulus reached out, the sight of the siren's terrified face painting his own with confusion, only to find that he was on his knees. The world flickered, and he nearly collapsed, only to find himself held up by a warm body.
He blinked up at the siren, breath shallow. "Stabbed," He managed to force out, lifting his hand from the wound. His fingers were sticky with blood, and Regulus stared at the red until it seemed to tinge his vision. He wanted to apologize, for what, he didn't know yet, but he knew he wanted to, needed to. He didn't. The siren laughed, bitter and sharp. Even then, Regulus wanted to capture the sound and keep it within him, let it play on record in his mind until it wore a permenant path through his body.
"Yeah. I can tell."
Barty held the prince in his arms, the scent of blood sharpening his senses. "Don't move." He commanded, fear showering his heart. He barely recongnized the feeling, for it had been far too long since he had needed it. Nevertheless, it came for him now, clutching him tight and unrelentless with its grip.
The prince shook his head, eyes shining with a strange sort of defiance Barty recongnized in himself.
"Sing." He commanded, voice soft but demanding, a wet cough leaving him as soon as he spoke. "Please, sing for me."
Barty stared, tensing as he ran his gaze over the prince's body, and didn't reply. "Sing." The prince said, voice steely. He left no room for disagreement, a startling fire lacing his words.
"Don't go," Barty wanted to say in reply, because even as the blood stained the sands, he was still greedy. Greedy greedy greedygreedygreedy- For the prince, for what was Barty's, until the very end of time. "You're mine," He wanted to say, "You can't go. I don't allow you. You can't leave me yet, I'm not ready. I will never be ready." He didn't say any of it.
Instead, he held the prince closer, opened his mouth, and sang.
There was no motivation behind it, no curiosity, only something that went deeper within than Barty had ever felt before. It hurt, piercing through his lungs and leaving him reeling for breath even as he was left unmarked on the surface. For the first time in his life, he wanted to beg, wanted to plead, wanted to shout and cry and pray for someone to give him a second chance. Give them a second chance. It tugged at him, embedded so deeply inside him that he knew there was no recovery from this, no way back, no way out.
Underneath it all, there lay the truth.
The prince was going to die.
Barty knew but he still stayed, cradling the prince's head in his arms. He knew, but he still waited until the prince fell limp, unconscious. He knew, but he still waited until the pulse under his fingers finally stopped. He knew, but he still sang until the pain had truly taken hold of him, choking him ever so slowly under its pressure.
And once there was truly nothing left, only then did he leave, retreating back into the water like he had never left.
Once again, the sand was empty but for the surging waves, ever-hungry and waiting for more blood.
There once was a prince and a siren.
And in the end, there was nothing left but blood and the corpse of what could've been.