We must do what it takes to survive
We must do what it takes to survive.
His breaths echo in the dim lit halls, daggers a grounding weight in Sirius' hands.
His steps are silent, as practiced, eyes flickering across every room he passes.
It's quiet, eerily so. Too quiet. He expected a fight, who wouldn't fight for their gem?
Of course, it could be assumed everyone's simply on the battle field, but something doesn't feel right.
Every room he's come across is empty, perfectly clean. No hints of sudden rush or ambush.
Sirius had jumped at the opportunity to be the one that gets Regulus, to see his brother again.
The guilt never, ever leaves. It leaves a gaping hole in your chest, one that can lessen, that can be stuffed, but never filled. He doesn't really know how Regulus will react when he sees him. Will he cry? Will he scream in anger? Or just dismiss him all together?
That's unimportant, focus on the task at hand. Get Regulus, get him out. No matter the costs.
When all the lush chambers are proven to be empty, he ventures lower. Going into the cells, walls crumbling and a metallic smell in the air.
He knows it's stupid, but he's desperate. Running through the halls and looking into each cell for even a glimpse of the curls he feared he forgot.
"Regulus?" Sirius yells, swallowing the burn in his throat at the thought of him not even being here.
The thoughts overcome him, hands tightening and loosening on his blades, breathing picking up before he hears the hitch of someone else's.
Latching onto it and marching through the dozens of cells until he reaches one.
Eyes alike to his own meet his, widening as the figure stands.
"Regulus." He breathes out, standing closer to the metal that separates them.
So many emotions flicker across Regulus' face that Sirius can't keep up, before it completely goes blank and he almost flinches at the change.
"We need to go, can you open this?" Regulus asks and sirius wills himself to push away the heaviness on his chest at the sound of the other's voice.
Nodding and working on the lock when Regulus yells.
A hand grabs at his hair, pulling him back. Sirius freezes for a moment before he blanks.
Turning and grabbing the hand on his hair, twisting it until he hears the satisfying crack. The guard moans and cradles his arm before pointing the gun at him, barely lifting it before Sirius stabs a dagger through his throat, the guard staggering back and Sirius following.
He pulls it out and kicks at the guards legs, sending him crashing to the floor in a pathetic lump.
He lets out a shaky breath, wiping the blood off of the blade on his leg, turning back to the cell and swallowing.
Gods, what would Regulus think of him. Would he see him as a desperate soldier, or as a creation of their mother?
Instead of the judgement, or the fear he expected, he's met with a strange look of surprise and understanding. Noticing the way Regulus looks longingly but not at him, at the blood he covers himself in.
Blinking and making work on the door, it opening with a groan.
There he stands, his brother, his blood. Close enough he could reach out, hold and never let go. He could, but he knows he shouldn't.
"You look like a powder puff." He says instead and Regulus rolls his eyes.
It growing quiet and unspoken words float in the air, about to speak when he gets cut off.
"No time, we need to go." Regulus says firmly and holds a hand out, cocking a brow when he's met with a confused frown.
"You expect me to go through a war, of which i'm the reason for, empty handed?" Regulus huffs and Sirius hesitates before placing the clean dagger in his hand.
It's one of the pair that Remus had gotten him, encrusted with small delicate drawings of the myths of Aphrodite.
"You are blessed by her beauty, so why not have a symbol with you always?" Remus had said with a shrug, saying it as though it doesn't melt Sirius' heart, as though it doesn't make his cheeks flush a red that could rival the ripest of red roses.
Regulus nods and rushes past him, moving like smoke and elegance that Sirius could never truly perfect.
They quickly make their way through the castle before Sirius halts, the sounds of screams and war filling his ears.
"We can't go out there, you can't go out there." He states, turning to Regulus.
"Sirius-"
"No, im not losing you again. Well- We'll find a different way." He flips the blade in his hand as he thinks, thoughts overlapping on one and other before his view is covered by emerald silks.
He looks up and meets Regulus' charcoal eyes, brows furrowed above them.
"Sirius, i'm not weak."
"I never said you were." He argues,
"Then let me fight, let them see that Regulus Black is more than a pretty star to hang on your wall." He sounds almost pleading and Sirius purses his lips.
They don't exactly have another way out unless the gods suddenly took pity and magically teleported them, that was highly unlikely.
They walked out of the castle side by side, dagger in each opposite hand. From a distance they looked the same, in future they'd be known as nightmares, as twins, as two flames not afraid to burn any in their path.
🌌
The war is beautiful. Bodies in the uniforms that he grew to hate, hands that roamed where they shouldn't have, lay forgotten on the battlefield field. Eyes glazed over and blood setting deep into the earth.
There were so many of them, so many souls, so many dead yet so many still fighting. None of them were the one he was looking for, the soul that's intertwined with his own, that calls, shouts out to him.
Sirius is busy with his own group, eyes blazing and hair around him like a halo. He looked feral, dangerous. Regulus almost envy's him. He always was the one that had more fight.
His silks have long been ripped, stained, ruined oh so beautifully. He prefers them this way, by his design rather than theirs. Covered in the blood of those who forced him into it.
Steadily making his way through the field, eyes set on the ships in the distance. They wouldn't have set up camp far from them, which means those here for him, with good intentions, should be there.
Which means James should be there.
He feels almost giddy, anxiety stepped on in favour of knowing he'll soon be with his love.
A woman with golden hair is suddenly in front of him, eyes wide and going past him. He's tempted to glance at what she's looking at, she isn't actively trying to murder him so he holds his dagger down.
"Regulus?" She asks, eyes narrowing in on him.
She must be a warrior, if her attire didn't say that then her demeanour did, her aura telling anyone close enough not to even try. It almost makes him glad she's not trying to kill him.
He furrows his brows, very aware that they're having a chit chat in the middle of a war right now.
"Are you Regulus? Yes, you must be, you look the spit of him." She huffs, answering herself, on about Sirius.
She grabs his hand and he lets her, lets her pull him through the bodies and through the fighters. He wonders how much trust she puts in her army to just walk through a battlefield like this but he hasn't been shot or stabbed yet so he places his own trust in them as well.
They get far before Regulus stops, the woman saying something but he's not listening. Eyes widened and zoned in on him.
James.
He looks ethereal, sun surrounding him as he shoots an arrow through another offender. Using the bow to take out one coming up at his side. There's blood on his face, in his hair, his glasses cracked and hardened eyes peeking through them.
Regulus smiles at the sight, it not dropping
when James notices him and drops the man that had the misfortune of ending up in his hands. He just stands for a moment before starting towards him and Regulus goes to meet him.
Hands covered in blood cradle his face, tilting it upward. James eyes scan every part of him and Regulus feels alive.
Yes, this is where he needs to be. Blood mixing as they hold each other, symphony of screams surrounding them.
Tha taste of it on his tongue, the feeling of it in his heart. Freedom.