Chapter 1
Regulus Arcturus Black was the sole heir to the Black throne. He was expected to one day marry a fine lady, and father a son who would then inherit the throne after him. This was what had been anticipated of him since his older brother had, at the age of sixteen, run off to a destination only known by him.
There had been a time when Regulus had never thought he would inherit the throne. Being a prince was more than enough. Regulus had heard several stories about princes murdering their brothers to seize the throne. Not only did that make him appreciate the close bond he shared with Sirius, but it also made him glad he wasn’t in Sirius' position, constantly having to worry about his life. Just because Regulus and Sirius were the only children of Walburga and Orion Black didn’t mean there weren't other potential future kings and queens, waiting for an opportunity to take the crown should Sirius make a mistake.
Bellatrix Black had always been fond of titles and riches. While Regulus didn’t actually believe that his cousin was crazy enough to murder Sirius or send and assassin, he had heard far too many horror stories and witnessed Bella do way too many bat-shit crazy things, as Sirius used to call it.
And that was just one out of many insane people Regulus knew. Not to mention, there were also tales of foreign kingdoms wiping out an entire royal family and installing their own heir on the blood-soaked throne immediately after.
So, Regulus had always been relieved that he was only second in line to the throne. Sirius was also way better at being king-like. Though it sounded bleak, Regulus preferred to live in Sirius’ shadows. He was content with being the prince that no one remembered – a nameless face following the crown prince around wherever he went. A fan, if you will.
Sirius had seemed content with that too. He always made sure Regulus was following, grabbing his hand in crowded rooms and whispering observations bordering on mean about their company, to which Regulus would snicker quietly. It was just the two of them, King Sirius and Prince Regulus.
Until it wasn’t anymore.
Regulus doesn’t remember exactly what had happened, but one morning when he went to find Sirius, there was a group of people, including his parents, blocking Sirius’ door. Regulus tried to get through to Sirius, but his mom stopped him and sent him back to his room, where he had to spend the rest of the day with guards everywhere.
It was hours later that he was informed Sirius hadn’t been present that morning, that no one knew where he was, that the crown prince had disappeared without a trace.
And until he was found, Regulus was to bear his title.
Crown Prince Regulus Arcturus Black.
In the following days Regulus wasn’t left alone for a single second. Everyone was overprotective of him, offering their pity regarding his brother’s disappearance. He hated every second of it, and at night he would bury face in the pillows to prevent anyone from seeing his tears.
Exactly five days after Sirius disappeared, the rumour started, and at first, Regulus refused to believe it. He claimed it was a lie. He knew Sirius and they didn’t. But in the end, even his parents couldn’t hide the evidence from public view, and it became common knowledge that the crown prince, Sirius Orion Black, had arranged his own escape and run off with no plan of ever returning.
Regulus was broken, lost, alone. But he couldn’t deny it. Sirius had left. And he hadn’t even voiced it to Regulus. Regulus would have given everything to Sirius, his whole life, but in the end, the feelings weren’t mutual. It was never King Sirius and Prince Regulus; it was King Sirius and his annoying younger brother.
It took months before he got used to hearing his name and the words “crown prince” in the same sentence. It took months before he got used to people remembering his name, to knowing that he wasn’t a nameless prince living in the shadow of his brother anymore. It took months before he stopped silently crying into his pillow, begging Sirius who never listened, to come home.
He had to suck it up, though. He had to swallow his complaints and tears, his pleas and sobs, because there was no one to help him up when he fell, no one to wipe away his tears or hold his hand in the dark. The only one who had ever been willing to do so was gone, had left him.
So, Regulus had been compelled to grow up.
The painting of his grandfather had hung slightly awry for the last week, and Regulus had noticed every day for a week. Still, he did nothing to right it as he passed the eighth day.
The sun was streaming in through the big windows placed sporadically down the corridor, reaching from floor to ceiling. Every few meters, a dark line streaked across the red carpet where the sun failed to reach the floor through the walls in between the windows. The constant shift between shadow-covered and sunlit carpet was sometimes enough to cause Regulus to zone out and disconnect from reality for a few seconds before he would realise where he was again, but today it wasn’t working.
He sauntered down the hallways as he usually did when he needed a break – which was often – but today was a bad day, one of those days where a walk inside wasn’t enough; he needed to get out. That included both the castle and his own head. After years of being a crown prince, Regulus has begun to understand why Sirius had run off. He had also started talking to himself. Some days, he could catch himself deeply interested in a conversation between two – or three, if he was having an absolutely amazing day – of the voices in his head.
And yes, he knew that there might be something completely wrong with him, but in all honesty, it couldn’t be that bad. He still knew how to distinguish the voices in his head from real ones.
Something moved to his left, and Regulus looked up just in time to see a guard give him a curt bow before continuing down the hallway in the direction from which Regulus had come. Regulus didn’t recognize him, but he had also stopped trying to remember people's faces and names when they had started remembering his face and name. Sometimes it freaked him out that everyone knew him from just one glance. Sometimes he really envied Sirius. And then he’d start hating him for leaving once again.
Because Sirius didn’t just run away and leave Regulus behind; no, he had trapped Regulus in the exact same life he had hated so deeply. Since Sirius ran off, security had been intensified, doubled, and renewed, so Regulus now struggled with tasks as simple as breathing. But what hurt most was that Sirius must have known. He must have known that the second he left the castle for good, Regulus’ freedom would be stolen, replaced by a false sense of security. He must have known that while he got himself free, Regulus would be stuck. And still, even knowing that, he had done it.
Regulus hated him for it. He hated him just as much as he hated the many guards and security measures. If not more.
Who could sink as low as selling their own brother’s freedom for their own? Who could be that selfish and still stand up straight, look you in the eye, and call themselves a real human being? Who could truly be such a coward?
Regulus finished his walk, and when he got back to his room, he quickly scribbled down a note and passed it to the guard outside of his door, instructing her to deliver it to the Minister’s son. She knew who he was talking about from previous situations and the fact that there were only very few people Regulus would write to. With a curt and formal nod that Regulus was familiar with, she disappeared down the hallway, leaving no trace that she had even been there in the first place.
The rest of the afternoon, Regulus spent in comfortable silence. Some days he would have to attend several unimportant meetings, or if he was especially unlucky, a ball. However, some sort of luck must have hit him because no one came to find him.
It was rare for him to see his parents, not that he was complaining, but sometimes he wished they would care more – that they would care for him and not just the crown prince. Sometimes, if he was feeling particularly sadistic, he would make a mistake on purpose – forget his manners, tousle his hair, anything to get their attention really – just so they would scold him and tell him to do better.
And just before they did, in that moment where they noticed that something was off – his tie was tied the wrong way, he had used the wrong silverware, he was only wearing one earring – in that peculiar moment, he would meet their gazes. He would straighten his back and let them notice him, really let them get a feeling of who he was and how they should watch out for him, because if they didn’t, he’d turn into someone they’d come to fear. And Regulus could swear on his life that sometimes they’d pause for a moment, frown at him as if they didn’t recognize him, as if the last time they really looked at their son was years ago before he had been someone important.
Once, in one of those moments, Walburga had almost called him Sirius.
Even though he hated Sirius, the fact that Walburga saw Sirius in him made him feel good. He couldn’t deny that to himself, even if he tried. He could hate Sirius with his whole heart, but somewhere buried underneath all the hatred lived a small flame burning with love for the brother that had raised Regulus when their parents hadn’t.
Yes, Regulus hated Sirius; he really did. He was mad. He was angry. Yet, he still cried. Because if Sirius had loved him so much as Regulus remembered, then why did he leave? Why did he doom Regulus to a life stuck in a grey castle, the only company being the voices in his head?
Could he not even waste a few minutes on explaining it all to Regulus? Didn’t he owe it to at least break Regulus’ childish little heart in a face-to-face encounter?
Didn’t he?
It doesn’t matter now, does it? one of the voices in his head supplied when the answer didn’t pop up immediately. He left and you hate him. That’s just how it is.
Regulus sighed to himself and let his head collide with the table surface. He had to physically cover his ears in an attempt to block out the different voices, each coming up with their own explanation of what and why. He didn’t listen, though. They were never right anyway.
Later, after enjoying a warm and delicious dinner in a cold and almost empty room, Regulus headed out. His parents had been late to dinner, so when they finally showed up – Walburga with a big scowl on her face – Regulus had seen his cue to leave. He had quietly greeted them with a “Mama,” “Papa” and a curt bow, then he was gone, off doing something he knew they wouldn’t approve of.
Some distant part of his brain knew it was Sirius-like behaviour to sneak out in the late evening, but he always brushed it off when it would hit him. Anyone in his situation would to feel compelled to get out. One way or another.
The first part of the route to the gates went without any problems. He could move around the castle as he wished without his motives being questioned, so with a slightly sped-up walk and a firm glint in his eyes, he was able to reach the big gate without any complications.
It was the next part that was a tad more difficult. Getting through the great wooden doors was something he wasn’t allowed to do under normal circumstances unless he was escorted by guards or had permission from his parents. There was a way, though.
If you knew the right people, there was always a way.
The doors were closed when he reached them, but that wasn’t what stopped him; a familiar voice did.
“Crown Prince Regulus, may I ask what you’re doing out here this late?”
Regulus kept his face neutral when he turned to the guard who was leaning up against the wall next to him. His light brown hair was slicked back, and he had a sloppy grin on his face, showing off his crooked teeth. Regulus knew from his childhood that Rabastan was only a few years older than himself and that he was one of the younger guards in the castle, not even having reached his mid-twenties yet.
He and Sirius used to be good friends.
Regulus frowned at him, putting on a confused mask before answering.
“What do you mean?” He paused. Just for the dramatics. “Haven’t you been informed? My Mother said she had sent a permission to the guards,” Regulus lied, crossing his arms and lifting a brow at Rabastan in an annoyed demeanour. The more he acted up, Regulus had learned, the less the guards questioned him, and the quicker they were to let him pass.
“I- Uhm,” Rabastan stuttered, clearly trying to dig up a memory that he didn’t know didn’t exist. Regulus almost felt bad for him. Almost.
“Oh, yeah!” another familiar voice exclaimed, pulling Rabastan out of his thoughts. Regulus didn’t bother turning around to face his co-conspirator. After years of being stuck inside all day long, Regulus was quite used to the routine of deception. “I remember. It was when you went to go take piss, Bas.”
Regulus had to suppress a smile at the pointed look Rabastan sent Barty before giving Regulus an apologetic smile.
“Yeah, uhm, well,” Rabastan stuttered, embarrassment colouring his cheeks red. “I- It was only two minutes, I swear. And I’ve been on guard all day long. I- Please don’t inform your mother, Regulus, please. It was a one-time thing.”
Regulus waved him off before Rabastan would fall to his knees and outright beg him. Barty snickered, and Regulus almost wanted to turn around and hit him. He hadn’t needed to expose Rabastan like that.
“Just let me through, okay? I’m busy,” Regulus sighed, voice as cold as ice.
“Yes, sir,” Barty answered with an underlying joking tone, and Rabastan quickly straightened his back and took a deep breath.
“I won’t fail you again, Regulus,” Rabastan said, and Regulus had to turn his back to him so he wouldn’t see the way he rolled his eyes. In his opinion, it was stupid that the guards had to use the bathroom before their shifts. When you needed to pee, you needed to pee. It wasn’t like you could control it or something.
“Sure,” Regulus mumbled, making eye contact with Barty, who was smiling at him secretly. Sometimes Regulus wondered how they still managed to get away with their lies when Barty was such a bad actor. Quickly, Barty got the doors opened, and Regulus slipped out before Rabastan could protest or Barty could say or do something that would expose him and Barty.
The air was warm and moist, and Regulus was glad he decided not to bring a jacket when the loose shirt he was wearing instantly started sticking to his skin. Where he was going, he would only get hotter.
It was quiet. Regulus couldn’t describe it in any other way. The castle was filled with a loud silence that slowly made you lose your mind; made you worry for your life with every resonating step you took. It constantly felt like the walls were closing in on you, and every little word you muttered could be the trigger of a death trap.
It was a different sort of silence outside. If you listened, there was a constant background noise of rattling leaves, chirping birds, and sounds from all sorts of small creatures that lived in the thicket around the castle. There were also no walls, trapping you in. Regulus could scream into the night as much as he wanted to, and no one would care. Sometimes he sneaked out to do just that.
The gardens were empty, and Regulus let himself wander around, enjoying the nature and fresh air before continuing towards the next gate, preparing for another round of deception
The next gate was easier to get through, and the guards guarding it were less important. It was pretty simple. The number of people passing through the second gate was bigger. Everyone from guests to servants could come through as long as they had the right papers. The main purpose of the second gate had also always been to keep people out and not in, so with a dark cloak on and a paper signed by himself, Regulus could easily make it through without any problems. No one ever questioned a servant running errands for his crown prince when the paper said “emergency”.
Regulus found the cloak Barty had left out to him on a bench, and there was no one to see as he quickly swung it over his shoulders and pulled the hood down in front of his eyes. The papers he would need to get through the gate lay safely in his pocket.
It sometimes surprised him how easy it was, how he could sneak out whenever he wanted to, only with a fake paper, cloak, and co-conspirator. One would think that his parents, after Sirius’ stunt, would make something like that impossible. Yet, here he was, already halfway to freedom.
There was a part of him that was convinced his parents knew that he was sneaking out, and that they only let it slide because he always returned – unlike Sirius. It didn’t really make sense to him, though, why they would let him. His mother had always been the type to say, “it’s better to be on the safe side,” so if they knew about his trips out of the castle, then why didn’t they stop it instead of risking that he ran off.
Thus, he thought, they must not know.
As predicted, he got through the second gate without any problems. He didn’t recognize the guards, and they didn’t recognize him. His papers were barely checked before he was waved on, and Regulus was quick to disappear into the streets on the other side of the gate.
After that, it was just a matter of waiting. Regulus found a lonely bench, sitting down, and though it was hot, he kept the cloak on for safety reasons. He wasn’t that careless.
The stars were out, shining like little lamps on a black background, and Regulus leaned his head back, pointing out different constellations to himself. It was something he loved to do, something he found calming, and he was able to do it from his balcony when he had no other way of getting fresh air than the small platform built into the solid wall.
It was nice, knowing that no matter if he was alone or if people left him, the stars would always be right above him. Sirius would always be right above him, watching over him. It was his go-to when he was looking at the stars. If anyone asked him to point out a star, Sirius was the first he’d look for.
Even now, it was the first star his gaze found. Not that it was difficult to find when it was the brightest star in the area, but Regulus practically had its position tattooed behind his eyelids. He was certain he was able to draw a map of Canis Major without misplacing a single star.
The night was sedate, and very few people passed the bench Regulus was sitting on, none daring to interrupt his stargazing. The only time he was interrupted was when two familiar-looking boys around Regulus' own age turned around the nearest corner, one blonde and one dark-haired. They were singing loudly, though they occasionally stopped to laugh and remember the actual lyrics – or try to, at least.
“No no, I’m pretty sure it goes something along the lines of; take my hand, come on, let’s fly, my dear.” The last syllable was dragged out as Barty tried to reach the high note, failing miserably.
“Actually,” Regulus said, pushing off the bench and gaining his friends' attention. “It’s: take my hand before we die, my dear. It’s an old sailor ballad. Rumour has it that it’s about a man who fell in love with a siren.”
Barty frowned, blinking at him for a few seconds before glancing over at Evan, who was still trying to stop laughing, and then back again. Regulus shrugged, crossing his arms.
“You just made that up,” Barty settled on, swinging an arm over Regulus' shoulder as all three continued strolling down the street. Regulus shook his head, choosing to ignore Barty’s comment.
“Nah,” Evan said, having finally stopped laughing. “You’re just dumb.”
He gave Barty a pitying grimace to which Barty stuck his tongue out, and then they were both grinning again. Regulus couldn’t help but wonder if they had already gotten drunk or if it was just the effect they had on each other. It wasn’t uncommon for Evan to pick Barty up from his guard duties with a bottle of fancy wine that most likely was empty ten minutes later.
Barty and Evan continued their high-pitched singing, which received some strange looks from passersby, but neither seemed to care. In the end, Regulus even joined in on the verses he knew. Barty also kept on singing the wrong lyrics, so Evan ended up laughing on the ground as Regulus and Barty discussed the text, both claiming they knew the actual lyrics.
“It’s hips, Barty! For Merlin’s sake. You know, I’m actually going to drown you.”
“No, Reggie, I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. It’s Oh, sailor, take on my tits.”
“The next line is literally a rhyme. Sway me to the music and press a kiss to my lips. Hips, lips. Just listen, you twat!”
The discussion ended unfinished because Barty had to quickly catch Evan before he accidentally rolled into a pool of gutter water and then pretend to be Evan’s saviour on a white horse. And after that, he quickly moved on to the next, even more erotic song he knew, singing it as a duet with Evan.
Regulus sighed and shook his head, trying to suppress his smile when Barty laid his arm around Evan and sang an extempore and on the border to the scandalous line to him. Evan stopped in his tracks and gawked at Barty, who instantly started cracking up.
Regulus was sure. They had indeed already been drinking.
“Well, if you wanted to sleep with me, Barty, why didn’t you just say so?” Evan tossed his head, so the blonde locks shone in the streetlamps, and Barty hid his face in his hands, trying to stifle his laugh.
“Am I that obvious, Rosie?” he whispered in between his hands, and Evan shook his head, giving him a playful push as he walked past, blush creeping up on his cheeks. Fortunately – or unfortunately, depending on who you asked – Barty didn’t seem to notice.
Regulus had always thought his two best friends were an interesting pair. Never quite lovers, but still way more than best friends. Possibly soulmates if you believed in that. Regulus didn’t. Still, there was something about seeing his two best friends around each other – the jokes that Regulus couldn’t quite determine whether they were jokes or secret wishes, and the stolen glances they'd send each other when they thought no one else was looking. Regulus had also seen them kiss on several occasions when they were especially drunk, but he wasn’t sure if they had actually slept with each other.
Barty finally lifted his head from his hands, and he flashed Regulus a big grin before following Evan who had set off into a jog. Regulus sighed, watching them disappear around the nearest corner. Sometimes he felt like he was secretly babysitting them.
It was nice, though. Spending time with two idiots that wouldn’t care if he suddenly acted just as idiotic, getting to let loose without being judged. In the distance, Barty yelled something, and Regulus chuckled to himself. Barty and Evan were like yin and yang, except the contrary. Together, they were chaotic and everything loud. Separated, they were normal human beings.
Or as normal as they yet again could be. They were Barty and Evan after all.
Regulus knew he'd eventually have to speed up to catch them before they disappeared somewhere, but he let himself wait a few seconds, his gaze once more, finding Sirius in the sky. He was shining, and Regulus thought it looked like his brother was winking at him, wishing him good luck for whatever the night would bring.
Drinks, dirty dances, flirting with random girls at the bar – Regulus’ heart might already be promised to some posh lady, and he might also be very gay, but for the night, that didn’t matter. He’d let himself loose and have fun, even if fun meant flirting with girls he’d never see again.
Regulus tore his gaze away from the blinking star and quickly sat off, running after the sound of lewd sailor ballads coming from somewhere in the labyrinth of alleyways. Barty’s rusty voice cut through the dead night, drowning out any sound of birds, and though Regulus could’ve easily located them, reached them in no time, he never quite got that far.
It happened fast. One moment he was alone, and the next he wasn’t. Perhaps if Regulus had been more aware, he would’ve managed to scream for help before the hit came. Perhaps if Barty and Evan hadn’t been as drunk as they were, they wouldn’t have left him and been there to prevent it. Perhaps if Regulus simply had been a good son and hadn’t sneaked out. Perhaps it was Karma. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
Perhaps sometimes things just happened, and you weren’t able to prevent it. And then the “perhaps” didn’t matter at all.
Perhaps if Regulus had paid more attention to his brother, he would’ve noticed his pain, and Sirius wouldn’t have left him at all.
A dark silhouette moved to his left, and Regulus only managed to turn his head before the bat came flying towards him.
Then everything went black.