Bleed till you've run out of years.
Bleed till you've run out of years
Rushing through the cold halls of the manor, peering over his shoulder constantly, wrapping the silk further around him.
Regulus doesn't exactly know how long he's been here, they haven't really let him know anything. All he knows is he needs to leave, desperately. Also knows that simply running away is useless, he'd be found before he could even make it to the docks.
He knew he was going to be taken, that if he had alerted anyone it would only end up in the deaths of more than necessary. Would end up in the death of James.
He dreams of those honey eyes every night, the soft embrace, the brightness of his sun. They're painful dreams, considered nightmares when he only awakes to the same dark walls as before.
They don't necessarily treat him as a prisoner, giving him a lush large room and the most beautiful silks. It's all meaningless, all just a reminder that even if not treated as one, he's still a prisoner.
At the mercy of those who took him.
A golden cage is still a cage.
He makes his moves silently, playing a one sided chess match against the unknowing opponent. Writing to those important, bribing those needed.
Regulus knows James will look for him, will come for him, but until then he has to survive. Not give in, never, he has far too much pride to ever think of doing so anyways.
Until then he finds out what he can, he bids his time, plays his game.
He plays the part, sits by the side of Riddle, speaks when spoken to. Even if it makes red hot fury flood through him, even if it makes him want to plunge whatever sharp object closest into the nearest eye.
He's been very tempted, to simply throw it all away for the satisfaction of Riddles blood on his hands, to slowly carve away the glass skin and break the ribs below.
That was only temptations, he's smarter than that, leaving that to his imagination.
It doesn't make being here much easier. It's too much like Grimmauld, it's too much like the life he thought he finally ran away from. It darkens the edges of his mind, it makes him want to run to the arms of those he calls safety. To James, to Sirius.
He was honestly terrified he'd see Sirius along with him, the relief so heavy he almost fell over his own feet when he realised he wasn't.
He doesn't blame Sirius anymore, having had the taste of freedom on his tongue it's hard too. He understands why he ran, he understands why he couldn't stay, why his fire simply couldn't be diminished.
That doesn't mean he isn't angry, he's furious, has been since the day Sirius left.
He ran at where the man held his arm, where the blade almost hit his skin before Regulus caught it himself.
Before he gave into the urge.
He tells himself it was either he allowed his life to be stolen or he takes someone else's.
It's a tradition in riddles army to have a snake carved into your skin on your fore arm, once done, the world will know who you belong to. Having the order sent for Regulus to have this done, having been forced into a seat and watching as the blade almost penetrates his skin.
It runs in his mind what had happened, the thrill, the rush. The way he had taken the blade, the way his body hadn't felt like his own but someone else's entirely. Like a phoenix from the ashes, like he was reborn. Plunging the metal through the jaw of the man, the blood spilling onto his hands of which is drying as he walks.
It was beautiful.
Watching the light leave his eyes, it made Regulus finally understand the hunger of war. Why death brought people in, made them curious, ravenous.
If he had even an ounce of less self control he was sure he'd have murdered every soul in this castle, some part of him believes he could even win.
But again, foolish. When his sun comes, war will break loose. His tounge settled on craving for blood will be satisfied then, his hands washed in the smooth crimson liquid.
He wonders what James would think of him, whether he'd look in disgust, or fear, or admiration. He knows he'd be supported, justified but deep down he doesn't even know if he wants to be.
Having the blood spill by his hand was a feeling like no other, was an ecstasy that he just couldn't not share with his love. Images of slitting Riddles throat while James stands behind him, arm wrapped around his own and guiding the knife, curled his insides in a way that felt just right.
Though he knows James is far too light hearted, morals lay too high for him to ever think of such bloodshed.
A hand comes from behind him before he can even register, clasping around his mouth before he can scream and unmoving despite his fruitful bites. Another snaking around his waist and pulling him back as he thrashes, though stilling at the sound of dozens of men charging through the halls in a frenzy.
A static of fear and rush in the air and Regulus knows exactly why.
His sun is here, his sun is here just as expected. The thought almost bringing a smile to his face if it wasn't covered. He gets thrown into the darkest of rooms, door locked as the guard rushes off to join his post. It doesn't matter, for his sun will blind all. Even if not, his wrath eventually will.
☀️
The war is long and torturous, days turned into weeks as they sit uselessly waiting.
They did initiate battle and lost half of their men, forcing them to rethink and re plan so they may have a chance of simply making it out alive.
James can feel Regulus, can sense the strings pulling. Can feel the ache of longing, tightening to the point of it being unbearable, each time he glances at the castle walls.
He knows he isn't the only one, knows Marlene shares his sentiment.
He did feel some guilt for forcing her to leave, for forcing her to fight in a war that didn't need to involve her. But the overwhelming need to have his star back in his arms, in his safety, overruled that guilt.
The longing did much more than that, guilt and shame thrown out of the window with one simple goal in mind.
Secure Regulus, have him in his clutch alive and safe.
It made him do things he'd rather not dwell on, that he knows will taunt him for years to come in the future, things that haunt his slumber when he isn't dreaming of stormy grey eyes. The blood on his hands never truly dried, never had a moment to before being repainted.
Those who have died by his hand, met the end of his sword. They whisper in his mind, taunt him, haunt him.
He lays a prayer on the fallen, closing their eyes and wishing them safe travels to the underworld before walking away from the pile of so, so many bodies. Flicking his wrist and feeling as the heat of the flames rise from behind him, spread quickly, destroying all in its path.
He walks away as they begin to lick at his ankles, not bothering to rush even as his skin begins to burn. It'll only add to the many scars that litter his skin now.
He tries hard not to think on it, to remind himself that what they're doing is for the right cause, that it's for love and for revenge.
But the bodies are adding up, death clearly isn't the solution to this. No matter how much.
Glancing at where Sirius and Remus lay, them having their own tent. There's a small gap and he can see Remus cradling Sirius' hand in his own, gently dabbing at a wound on his leg.
James doesn't really know what they are, he doesn't think they know either, but he knows it isn't his place to intervene. If they are meant to, they'll find their own path, whether it leads to each other or not.
He hopes it does, he sees the hidden glances , the way the other softens at the other's touch. But in war it's easier not to act on it, not to care, not to fall victims of the harsh currents of love.
Once you've found your pair, you know. With it, you know you can't live without them. You know that losing the other half means losing half of yourself as well.
He walks past the tent and into his own, eyes searching and settling on the blonde sat in the corner.
Him and Marlene have gotten closer in all of the blood shed. She's truly a sight to see when in battle, hair flying in the wind and sword rightfully gripped in her hand. He understands why she's known for her strategy, for her wisdom, for her brutality.
She's sat praying to her alter, speaking with her god. He knows of her connection with Athena, how she's supported through all her wars. He almost envies it, almost. Jealousy is a useless emotion in his eyes, why be jealous of something you can have in your grasp if you just try hard enough?
Also, it's not as though no god has reached out to him. It's not as though he doesn't have the power of the sun on his side.
His mother had cradles his cheek as a child, wiping the tear fallen and smiled softly.
"Don't fear, Jamie. It is but a graze, it'll heal, Apollon will help you." She said softly and pressed a kiss to his head.
She wasn't wrong, the sun seemed to always fall on James, dozens of sunflowers, tons of hyacinths blooming where ever he lay.
It wasn't until he was older that he questioned it, that he began to learn, became completely infatuated in the myths and tales of his Lord Apollon.
Blinking from where he was looking at Marlene and clearing his throat, she quickly finishes her prayer and blows the candle out, turning her head to him.
The effects of the war had taken the toll on them all but the bags under her eyes showed that. Standing and meeting James, giving him a once over as usual.
"No mourners?"
"Not today, no."
No mourners, no deaths. Of course some die each day but she means those that are close, she means Sirius, Peter, Remus,
Regulus.
They don't stay quiet about having him, constantly taunting James with it. Until he snaps their neck that is, not an ounce of regret in his action as he leaves the body to fall into the earth.
"We can't keep doing this James, we need to take action soon." Marlene urges, the ache evident in her voice.
"I know" he huffs, running a hand over his face, "I know"
They all group, any one of import and even those not, bending over maps and speaking over mulled wine. It took a few days before they finally found something useful, someone maybe they should say.
Nagini, the soul person close enough to Riddle to get through his thick skull. They had sent someone in to retrieve her, ambushed when distracted and brought her to their camps.
She put up a fight that honestly made James pity her but she was also one at the table when deciding to take Regulus and hold him in their prison of a castle, so the pity was short lived.
They'd made it clear of what they had, what they wanted. It was obviously expected that Riddle wouldn't go easy but that was planned, carefully planned.
"We want him to come himself, his finest men. While he's busy getting her back, we'll strike the castle and secure Regulus." Marlene had said, arms spread on the table where a lay out of said castle lied, a determined look on her features.
It went well, they taunted Riddle as he had them, got him riled up enough for him himself to leave his ivory walls, to barge into a battle already written.
Sirius was the one sent in, as he had already previously been in the castle before, when young.
James offered but it was shut down, they needed someone close to Regulus incase he had been fed lies and didn't want to leave but James was too close, too soft hearted. Regulus would only be a distraction, an obstacle.
So Sirius offered, understandably so, to go and save his brother. Eyes hard and set as he got ready, daggers in each lethal hand. James pitied anyone that had to come across him, perhaps Sirius would show them mercy and simply make it quick. Perhaps.
The battle was gruesome, blood thirsty monsters with weapons that don't belong to them.
James can feel blood drying in his hair, on his face, slipping between his armour. Covered in it. He can't really bear to look at it, knowing not one part of it was his own.
He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a breath before opening them again.
No hero has to be good, they just have to bring victory to their people. Historians may write James as they want, but in this moment, he was a monster alike the rest.
Plunging his sword straight through someone's skull and feeling another come up behind him, whipping around only to be to late as an arrow lodged itself in the attackers eye. Falling down to their knees as they cradle their eye.
A trail of blood ran down their face and James lifted his sword, closed his eyes, and spared mercy to the soul. Hearing the body slump on the ground but not sparing it a glance as he continues.
Fighting his way through to the castle, to victory, to Regulus.