Prologue
February 2nd, 1768
Sirius Black was running. His muscles were burning, and his flowing white shirt was soaked with sweat. He could feel it running down his back like a stream. Wisps of his dark hair had stuck to his forehead very disturbingly but moving them would mean losing focus. A single mistake, a slip, and boom. He’d fall to his death. Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient Pirate House of Black, killed in a chase without honour.
Sirius ought to have expected this, but it stung, nevertheless.
Jumping over cracked rooftops, he wondered how the hell did he end up in this situation. Mostly Sirius loved Havana. He always had, ever since the first glance. The colourful houses, red tiles and pastel walls facing the glimmering sea. The smell of tobacco and rum thrifting in between the narrow alleyways that at first had made Sirius feel nauseous, but now it was the smell of home. Havana was so different from the Black manor, and as things tend to go, the more different from the Blacks, the better. So much better. Havana was always so loud, no matter the time of day.
The city and Sirius had a long story. He’d begged Walburga to let him go to school outside of France. It was the first and last time he had begged his demon of a mother for anything. Ten-year-old Sirius had trembled beneath her cold gaze, and fuck. The mere thought of the memory brought the tangy taste of blood into his mouth.
Havana was never quiet, but that didn’t stop Sirius from needing to run- especially today. He was quite sure Walburga had picked the timing just to ruin Havana for him, to practically piss on every good memory he had from his childhood. Beneath Sirius’ panting, the city was screaming with the joy of being alive. Stallholders were selling the last pieces of meat, the last clothes of the day to back down for the night just to wake up with a newfound vigour the next morning. Sirius didn’t dare to look down or back, he just ran. He knew the heartbeat of the city better than his own and now, even with bitter hatred in his veins and adrenaline clouding his thoughts he didn’t need to worry about getting lost. Sure, roofs were a tad bit different from streets covered with cobblestone, but the general map was the same.
Sirius slipped and cursed. Something was thrown at him, but the object missed him by at least four feet. Idiots.
The tiles under his feet were scorching. It was like running on a river of lava, the roofs of Havana under him a million splendid suns. Only a miserable gust of wind from the ocean was blowing in his direction. The hint of wind carried the smell of freedom with it, of a possibility. Still. His freedom should’ve been his own choice, he should’ve run. Should’ve taken Regulus by the fucking collar and slipped through the kitchen windows the very moment he’d figured out there was a plan.
Sirius hadn’t done anything, hence the situation. Somewhere, deep down, he knew what this chase meant. What the ending of the chase meant, if he made it. And of course he would make it, he was the fucking Black heir. Trained by the very best. Smarter. Better. And yet, he hadn’t figured a way to decode Walburga’s plan.
He risked a quick glance back and immediately regretted it. A happily whistling arrow flew past him with such fervour Sirius had to swerve and do a nice little close-contact hug with the tiled roof. Something in his chest snapped very painfully as he slammed down.
Ah. Bella had arrived at the chase. As if running into the sunset without shoes wasn’t bad enough.
Fuck them. Sirius’ left hand scraped onto a loose red brick, and oh, how he could kill them all with it. He could take the brick and throw it straight to Rodolphus’ head, knock him out and steal Bellatrix’s daggers and throw a real fucking party. One by one, he could kill them all.
Sirius’ brows knit together. His lips were pathetically dry and with a sigh, he let the brick fall from his grasp.
“Oh, love , where are you hiding?” Bellatrix’s manic laughter came from somewhere on his right. “Show your family that pretty little face!”
Briefly, Sirius just rested his head against the tiles. Maybe he should just slam his own head into the brick.
“Come on now, be a good sport darling!” The pathetic wind carried Bella’s sing-song voice along the rooftops.
“How about you go fuck yourself with an oar, you crazy cunt,” Sirius mumbled to himself.
Ungraciously scrambling up, he spotted a ladder a few roofs towards the main street. With a quick look, he risked a middle-fingered gesture towards somewhere where Bella probably even wasn’t but based on the crazed laughter that followed, he was pretty correct.
“Ah, ah, ah, little cousin, remember the deal!” Bellatrix tutted and Sirius heard the unmistakable sound of a new dagger being drawn from a holster.
He fucking hated them. He hated them so much he could kill them, and he would’ve, if it wasn’t for Reg. With a heaving chest Sirius threw himself down the ladder.
He skipped at least nine rungs out of maybe ten and landed with a thud and another sickening snap. His head banged against a plank resting on a wooden stool just against the foot of the ladder. The blood was immediate. With a proper open wound now gushing warm blood on his forehead Sirius genuinely considered just giving the fuck up. “Look at me, maman . Is this what you thought would fucking happen?” he mumbled.
Leaning into the plank with now his blood on it, he got up.
Without shoes, the ground wasn’t much better of a surface of running, but it wasn’t as hot as the tiles. He was back on his feet in seconds, assessing the environment around him with a slightly swaying vision for any other members of his darling family. No time, no time, no time the voice in his head screamed. Sirius risked a millisecond to just breathe, but a dagger landed right next to his left foot. With a start, he broke out running.
Through the alleyways, past the homeless cats towards the harbour. With every step the humiliation grew bigger, the thrum of anger palpable on his fingertips. He should fight. He could fight, even with blood pouring all over his face. He'd win if he did.
They knew it. He’d win even with one of his hands tied behind his back.
So, Sirius ran.
The city walls around him were cast in shadows. He dashed toward the opening that led to the harbour street. Tiny rocks and sharp pieces of glass tore his feet open with every step, but Sirius didn’t stop. He left behind a trail of blood that would lead anyone who wanted to find him straight to his path, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Bella and the others were probably still on the roof, with a clear sighting to his unguarded back.
Sirius’ lungs were working overtime. He had never been in fight more taxing than this cursed chase. He was freely bleeding from all his wounds, blood and sweat soaking his shirt even further. He dashed around a corner and crashed straight into a stall selling apples. The vendor shrieked and swatted at him with a broomstick, but Sirius was quicker.
The harbour wasn’t that far anymore so when a dagger thrown by undoubtedly Bella sank into his shoulder he didn’t even cry out. His steps lost their balance, but he kept on going. Years and years of ruthless training hadn’t beaten the rebellion out of him, but at least his reflexes were inhuman. Past screaming children, through an alleyway and across a street with at least fifty guards in front of a tavern.
One more step, he told to himself again and again.
With everything he had left, Sirius flung himself past the gates of the harbour and crashed, again , into a crowd.
The sight of the ocean coloured in hues of pink and orange over the heads of the people gathered there almost punched a cry out of him. Straining his muscles even further, Sirius pushed through the crowd and stopped so abruptly that he almost fell over right into the fine sand. His breath guttered to a stop. Any thoughts of his looming death coming in the form of his cousin behind him slipped away.
The Vespera was red like no other ship on the Seven Seas.
Without a doubt, it was the most beautiful ship he’d ever seen. La Fierté had nothing on Vespera, nothing. It paled in comparison to Vespera’s golden shrouds and gleaming quarterdeck, its massive figurehead of a lion reaching out towards the waning sun. The ivory sails with golden crests painted on them rippled in the evening wind. Even from far away, the wood on the hull looked worn but with love, and Sirius fought to remain standing. The pride and honour of the British navy.
How could a place you’ve never even been to look like home more than the actual one?
Sirius took a tiny step towards the ship with shaking knees. The pain had finally begun to catch up to him, the adrenaline fading from his system, fatigue rapidly removing the fight from him. The grains of sand rubbed against his torn feet, but he took another step. And another.
They were loading her up, packing the last necessities for the voyage ahead. A few feet from the ship stood two people watching the crew work. The woman had a hair rivalling the colour of Vespera, a long sword hanging on her hip. She was holding a small tricorn on her hands. First mate.
Sirius’ gaze slid to the man standing next to her.
“James?” Sirius’ gaze zeroed in on the man ahead.
The crowd around him whispered and pointed, probably recognising him but Bella and the others wouldn’t dare touch him with so many people around them.
The man was wearing a long red coat with ornate detailing on sleeves, and although he was facing the opposite direction, the hair was too recognisable.
Even under the captain’s tricorn it stuck to every possible direction with unruly tufts curling around the collar of his coat.
“James!”
The woman threw her hands in the air and James’ shoulders shook with laughter. She began to walk away and toward the ship and Sirius’ heart missed a beat. James started to follow her. Sirius struggled a few run-resembling steps, but his legs gave out.
Bleeding out on the sand, he reached out a hand. Deep down, Sirius knew he shouldn’t.
“It’s me, James! It’s Sirius!”
They were getting further and further away from him, and someone had apparently decided that he was a raving lunatic and called the harbour watch on him. Good. As they should.
“James! James bloody Potter!”
The men in yellow uniforms surrounded him and Sirius’ throat felt raw. Weeks and weeks of worrying, of fear and bitter anger formed a bile in his throat, as Sirius saw his chance slipping away. A tear fell down his cheek. He knew, he fucking knew he should be happy Jamie was walking away.
Don’t do this, he begged himself. Shut the fuck up, you idiot .
“PRONGS!”
The man in the red coat stopped. One guard, the one closest to him, aimed a gun at his head and ordered him to do something, but Sirius didn’t have it in him to request French or English. The woman with fiery red hair turned around and gestured very animatedly at the man. At James. Jamie. He stood still and then, slowly, turned around.
The sun reflected on James’ circular glasses and Sirius sobbed. His skin was the same coppery brown it had been all those years ago and maybe he had grown to be taller than Sirius and maybe they were fighting on the other side of the war and maybe the last time he had seen the fucker was ten years ago. But under all that, he was James. Sirius’ best mate and now a grinning idiot standing across the sandy beach.
The pistol on his temple became more apparent as the gun cocked.
James’ smile dropped and he broke out into a run. The woman ran after him, yelling something in a language Sirius didn’t understand and he closed his eyes. A small, sad smile spread to his face.
Prongs would get to him in time. Of course, he would, James bloody Potter. A single command in Spanish had the guards withdrawing the pistol away from him and Sirius opened his eyes just in time to see a pair of brown eyes staring at him.
“Man, you look like shite”, James said and offered him a hand. Sirius mustered up a grin and took his friend’s hand. Prongs pulled him into a hug tighter than he’d ever had.
Sirius let the tears fall into the fine material of James’ coat. “That’s pretty usual for you, actually”, James whispered into his ear and Sirius let out a wet laugh. I’m sorry, he wanted to say. I don’t want this to happen, he screamed in his head. Prongs, I don’t have a choice. It’s for Reg. But he didn’t. I promise I’ll figure everything out. I won’t let them hurt you.
James pulled away from him and eyed him up and down.
I won’t let them hurt you.
“How about we get you aboard and you can tell me what the actual fuck happened to you, Pads.” James smiled with full dimples, his eyebrows rising. “Language”, the fiery woman behind him muttered. Please don’t leave me, tell me I am a good person even if I do this. Prongs, I can’t do this.
Somewhere behind him, Sirius felt Bella’s heavy gaze on his back. The dagger on his shoulder throbbed and selfishly he wished she hadn’t missed. I don’t want to do this. Don’t make me do this.
Please.
Staring into his best friend’s trustful eyes, Sirius Black fucking hated himself.