The Moon
Regulus Black had never been one for parties, much less birthdays. Even after years of attending political social events, practicing meaningless compliments, and suffering through his royal duties, he could still feel the anxiety rattling between his ribcage. Regulus turns to the gold-rimmed mirror to his left, entirely convinced that someone is behind him strangling the air out of his lungs. All he sees is the dark green collar of his shirt digging uncomfortably into his throat.
Regulus looks down, trying his best to calm his shaking hands as he adjusts his mask over his eyes. If he's feeling this nervous, he can't imagine the state Sirius is in. Then again, Sirius had always been better at it all. The parties, the people. The pretending. However, today was a special occasion. Maybe Sirius was equally as terrified as to what this night would mean.
Calm down. You knew this was going to happen. Regulus tries to soothe himself, slipping his fingers into the silk gloves prepared for him.
Sooner or later, it was going to happen. Just be glad it's not you. Regulus closes his eyes tightly.
Yes, be glad it's not you.
Regulus takes one last grounding breath and pulls back the velvet green curtain. He's met with soft ballroom music, but it's undercut with the thick hum of excitement and anticipation. There are probably hundreds of guests attending this party. Even more lining the streets of Slytherin. Regulus swims through the crowd, flashing smiles and greetings in a desperate attempt to tread water.
"Ah! Prince Regulus! Please, join us for a chat," calls Abraxas. Regulus smiles, this time genuine.
"Regent Malfoy! You look wonderful," Regulus says, trying hard not to let the obvious relief he feels betray him.
Abraxas chuckles, clapping Regulus's shoulder warmly, pulling him in closer to the group of people that Abraxas had been entertaining. Regulus finds himself laughing, Abraxas's presence a warm hearth he could lean into. Around him, Regulus feels more confident. More secure. As if he were leaning into a father's embrace. He owes Abraxas almost everything. His education, his connections, his happiness. Maybe even his life. He smiles fondly at the older man who was animatedly talking about the physics of archery.
Sirius. He recognises the young man standing a few feet away from them. Regulus could practically see the displeasure seething on Sirus's face, even behind the elegant emerald mask.
That bad? Regulus thinks. But no, this displeasure is directed towards him. Rather, his closeness with Abraxas. Sirius has never liked the man. Regulus resists the urge to scowl back.
"Ah, Regent Malfoy. I see you've captured my baby brother from wherever he was hiding," Sirius cuts in. He's joking, of course, but anyone who knew Sirius could see the cold glint from his grey eyes and taste the sharpness in his tone.
"Hardly, Sirius. I'm afraid your brother was my willing captor," Abraxas responds good-naturedly. This only deepens the furrow that had appeared between Sirius's eyes.
"Please address me properly, Abraxas. We have company," Sirius gestures to the patrons gathered around them. Abraxas's expression flickers, but the moment is gone before Regulus can even process it.
"Apologies, my dear." A beat.
"Well, I'll leave you boys be. I'm sure there is much to discuss," Abraxas reaches out to give Regulus one last reassuring squeeze of the shoulders before he turns away from them.
"I don't know why you entertain him," Sirius snaps once they are out of earshot. Regulus feels his retort lodge in his throat. The thick air in the ballroom. The eyes turned curiously towards them. The weight of Sirius's disapproval. The anticipation for what's to come. It's too much for him right now.
"Hey," Sirius says, softer now, as if he can sense Regulus's panic. "I'll be okay. I always am."
Regulus turns towards him, "I know."
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Sirius Black had always been one for parties. Especially birthdays. His earliest and happiest memories were the joyful birthday adventures out into the Hufflepuff countryside with his father. Orion had been one of the only people capable of traversing through the Gryffindor Woods, which were said to be filled with dubious characters and dangerous creatures, in order to reach the quiet and quaint villages in the south.
In Hufflepuff, Sirius was allowed to be a child. He was allowed to explore the world. He would get on his hands and knees and watch the bugs crawl up the sides of the buildings. He would play fetch with the neighborhood dogs and sneak them greasy pieces of fire-roasted chicken when the elders of the village weren't looking. Sirius was able to run freely with the other children and form genuine, uncomplicated friendships.
However, those birthday outings eventually stopped. His fourteenth birthday was the last time Sirius saw his friends in the Hufflepuff countryside, and the last time Sirius had felt genuine happiness. His mother began to enforce a strict daily schedule filled with academics, political training, social networking, and other preparations for Sirius. The Crown Prince shouldn't want to escape the responsibilities of the throne, but the more his mother pushed, the more he resisted.
Today, on his twenty-first birthday, Sirius feels hot with anger and anxiety. The fate he had been desperately avoiding for years had finally cornered him. When he was young, he had believed that his father would live forever and that he would never have to be the Crown. After his father died, he had believed that Abraxas, who had been appointed to perform royal functions until Sirius was of age, would somehow convince the Council to let him keep the title. But, Sirius should have known that he would never win against the will of Wallaburga.
This is the worst birthday ever. He thinks, childishly. As if there weren't more pressing things at hand. Sirius had been keeping himself entertained throughout the evening, thinking of ways to subtly wreak havoc and maybe even call off the whole ceremony. Earlier, he slipped a fizzing tablet into Sir Horace Slughorn's red cocktail, which had exploded over the poor fellow's white shirt.
Maybe he would do something to Abraxas. The man had been getting on his nerves the entire night. Sirius narrows his eyes, trying to find his signature silvery blonde hair.
There! A flash of white amongst the crowd. Sirius moves quickly, his heart quickening at the thought of his petty revenge. A playful smirk appears on his lips. This just might be worth having to run a crumbling kingdom for the rest of his life. He's almost there when--
"I'd advise you to watch your step, sir." Sirius is being held back by a firm grip. In the split second that he had been distracted, Abraxas had slipped out of sight. Prickling with annoyance, he turns to meet the interference to his lovely plan.
"That's Crown-- oh!" It is as if the air has been punched out of Sirius's lungs. It was a distraction all right. The man's face was mostly obscured by a smooth obsidian mask, the only thing that could be seen were his lovely, deep hazel eyes and a distinctive scar marring his upper lip. Even so, Sirius could tell that he was handsome.
The man's gloved hand loosens the grip on his arm.
"I didn't mean to startle you. It's just that someone has enjoyed the punch far too much," the man speaks, eyes flicking down towards the unsavory stain on the stone floor next to them.
Sirius looks down, staring at the stain. His ears burn with embarrassment. The man had afforded him a kindness that he had met with annoyance and dismissal. This mysterious, beautiful man had saved him from the very extremely dangerous and disgusting pile of vomit. The least Sirius could do was ask for his name.
"Thank you. To whom do I owe the pleasure?" Sirius asks as he looks up, but the man is already gone.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Regulus finds himself out on the balcony, minutes before the crowning ceremony is supposed to begin. The full moon is at its apex now-- its soft, unwavering light flooding over the Royal Garden and washing everything with a cool blue. He finds himself tracing a path out of the hedge maze their father had made. The action tugs a smile out of Regulus. When he and Sirius had been young, they had spent hours out in the garden trying to solve it. It had frustrated them to no end. Upon their complaints, their father had simply stated that it was because they were not ready.
"But for now boys, I will lead you. As long as you need."
Regulus sighs. The maze was proving impossible, even now. Even after their father had died. Even after Sirius had to sacrifice his freedom, his autonomy, and his life in order to meet the responsibilities of the throne. Even when, in a few minutes, Sirius was to be officially recognized as the Crown of Slytherin. They were still not ready.
We still need you Papa.
An unsettling fog of grief begins to shroud Regulus's mind.
His father. His wonderful, kind father who had always been there to catch his fall. His gentle, intelligent father who had always done what he believed was right, even at the opposition of the council. His strong, reliable father who had succumbed to the stress, the pressure, the illness.
And now, Sirius.
Desperate, he turns up towards the sky.
Can you save him? Take him far away from here. So he can be free.
Of course, Regulus doesn't hear a reply. Defeated, Regulus turns away from the silent, unwavering moon, feeling unbelievably foolish.
No magical moon to save us after all. Regulus shakes his head. What was he thinking? He would need to leave all of that behind. His ridiculous hope that someone will come sweep them away from the world. His longing for a childhood that was so distant, it might as well have been imagined. His grief that had been gnawing away at him slowly, but had become ravenous in the moonlight, like a rabid werewolf. It is time to leave it behind. It is time to grow up. It is time to watch his brother become a king.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
The ceremony is meant to be simple. His mother will bring out the emerald crown and uncover it from the satin pouch it rests in. Regulus will untie Sirius's mask, unveiling him before the kingdom and before the eyes of Salazar. Abraxas, as the Regent of Slytherin, will give his blessing and crown Sirius. Then, the night of festivities will continue, welcoming the new Crown of Slytherin and celebrating the return of a king.
Regulus turns this plan over and over in his mind, its clarity a worry stone. His eyes are closed, shutting out the excited crowd before him. Even so, he can hear the feverish hum of anticipation amongst the hushed whispers between the socialites and politicians that they have invited here tonight. Regulus knows that he must act carefully. The seemingly friendly and encouraging crowd was nothing more than a nest of venomous snakes. There is no doubt in his mind that everything about this ceremony will be picked apart and retold. Rumors will erupt about the new Crown and people will have made up their minds about Sirius before he even has a chance to address them.
When Abraxas was appointed Regent after their father's death, he had the benefit of being a well-liked educator, a respected member of the council, and Orion's closest confidant. His high social standing as the head of the House of Malfoy had certainly worked to his benefit in earning the favor of the people.
In comparison, Sirius was nothing more than the unruly, rebellious eldest son of the Royal House of Black, crowned thanks to only his royal blood. It wasn't that Sirius was unintelligent or unskilled. It was that he was so compulsive and righteous that he refused to do anything he didn't believe in. Although admirable and charming in a young boy, that behaviour would no longer be acceptable for someone who needed to keep the fickle hearts of the people and delicate balance of power within the kingdom.
Regulus's thoughts are interrupted by a sudden, shrill scream outside the ceremonial hall. A wave of panic and confusion washes through the crowd and threatens to drown Regulus. The hushed whispers have become frantic and the air becomes thick with conspiracy.
Abraxas rises next to him. "What is going on?"
Everyone answers at once.
"The lights in the hallway have gone out." "Oh, great Salazar! The hall is covered in blood!"
"The guards! Someone's killed the guards!
"Has someone broken in?"
Only one answer matters.
"It's the Crown Prince-- H-he's gone missing sir!"
Amidst the chaos, Regulus can only think one thing.
He's free.