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Chapter Text

Sirius

Sirius Black was not your average Porn star, in fact, you could argue Sirius Black was not your average anything, in almost every sense.

Sirius was twenty-one now almost twenty-two, if that sort of thing even matters to you, and it mattered to Sirius.

And it wasn’t his astonishing looks that set him apart. Although that’s what he would probably tell you sets him apart, because he was an absolute self-obsessed piece of shit. It wasn’t the fact that Sirius Black was an absolute self-obsessed piece of shit (which, if you know many porn stars, you’ll know is actually pretty common with the twenty-somethings in that profession). It wasn’t even the fact that he was absolutely loaded with a small fortune made from just two years of movie making (this was something he was rather proud of, having all his money being, for the most part, self-made). It was the fact that Sirius Black wasn’t just rich and pretty. He had a backstory to go with it.

He was born with the title Sirius Orion Black the Third. He was born into the French royal family. His Uncle Alphard was a literal King, and he was technically next in line to the throne, providing Alphard didn’t bear any children. And everyone knew he wasn’t going to. That was the Black family doing what they did best because Alphard hadn’t spoken to his wife in sixteen years and lived with his male ‘companion’ in secluded apartments in Grimaud Palace. But that was the Black family way, if you saw it, you didn’t.

Growing up, Sirius had always been a bit of a rebel, he had clearly never wanted his family of lifestyle. His parents, Walburga and Orion, had sent him of to boarding school in England in a feeble attempt to straighten him up. And if you know anything about boarding schools, you will know that had the absolute opposite effect they were hoping for. When Sirius saw one look at the life he could have away from all the shitty royals and their secrets and his goddamn parents, he knew he couldn’t go back to that life, ever.

He had planned to leave at twenty-one, as soon as he came of age, when he was sixteen, sex tapes had been released of him and another boy and Sirius’ reputation in the nobility was jeopardised, the other boy left the school within a day of the release and what little respect any of the royals had for him was gone. They had gone from rude, to downright abusive. Sirius abdicated his royal status, and ran away to England to live with a school friend, in a dramatic, over-publicised field day for the papers. He had been stalked by almost every newspaper in France and England for weeks. If he was famous for being a royal heartthrob before, he had gone full celebrity now.

Which was just what Sirius had wanted, because he was Sirius Black, and Sirius Black did everything in style.

And Sirius black’s life was pretty good, all things considered. Maybe it wasn’t what he expected, and maybe it wasn’t what his fourteen-year-old closet case self-had in mind. But honestly, Sirius couldn’t care less, because this was much better than being married to some snooty Austrian baroness who was probably also his cousin and fucking random sexually challenged Barons or Viscounts on the side.

The studio lights glared through the doors to Sirius’s gloomy changing room, as Sirius sat lazily in nothing but a silky pink dressing gown and some laced up leather boots and sparkly nail polish to cover him between takes, occasionally puffing at whatever his director had given him to boost morale, the putrid smoke filling the room and creating a thin layer of cloud hanging over the ceiling.

Yeah no, being born a prince of France, Sirius never saw this life for himself. He saw gloomy corridors and whispered secrets, marble turrets, and an unhealthy number of eighteenth-century values. But now, all he could smell was, a mingle of un-ethically sourced drugs floating all around the studio, all he could hear was the low chatter of his co-stars and the camera people behind the door, and the music playing softly from the record player whizzing around and around beside him, all he could see was bright studio lights from the room next door and the glare as they caught the smoke.

Sirius spun his chair, so it faced the ornate, pink spray-painted mirror and admired his reflection. Yeah, he was pretty hot.

He fluffed his dark hair up so the shoulder-length style flowed gracefully from his head, the lights from the studio outside catching it and making it glow, making him look like a sort of punk-rock porn star god, and reached for the eyeliner. The room was dark, and he couldn’t see much of the table so when his fingers met the locket that must’ve been strewn aside in the mess, he froze.

The locket.

That’s where it-.

He had tried so hard to lose it.

‘Shit’ Sirius muttered, his hands in his hair. His hands were shaking. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, he ran his arms over the table in his panic, knocking glass bottles of perfume and liquor off the table in his haste.

“You alright in there Black” yelled the producer, Tobias Snape.

“Ouis- uh yes, uh, Just a second” Sirius yelled, his French accent stronger in his stress,

‘shit, shit-‘, he muttered. He wanted, he needed-. His hands finally found the syringe they were looking for, and Sirius already felt calmer, he stabbed the needle into his skin and pushed it deeper, deeper, deeper. Looking in the mirror, Sirius could practically see his pupils dilate as his breathing slowed. He inhaled deeply as his mind fogged over like the smoky room he was sitting in. His mouth was dry, and he couldn’t really think straight, but at least he could barely think.

He smiled as he brushed his hair behind his ears again, did his eyeliner in his trademark perfect wing, and rubbed on a bit of lipstick, so casually messy you’d think it was intentional. It was not, Sirius Black was too high for anything he did to be wholly intentional. He stood up slowly, feeling more and more detached from the room he was stood in and staggered towards the studio, his hot pink dressing gown slipping off his shoulders as the muffled voices of the people in the studio welcomed him and the last thing he remembered giving before giving into the euphoria of the shoot was the shout of:

“LIGHTS, CAMERA”

“action” Sirius grinned under his breath.

James

James Potter had just had the worst day of his life and James Potter was not where he wanted to be right now.

You know where he wanted to be, in bed, asleep, and not thinking about the day he had just had. But annoyingly, James Potter was best friends with a certain ex- French royal, so he had to wake up at three in the morning, to drunken pone calls from mysterious bars.

Sirius Black was a good person; James wouldn’t be his friend if he wasn’t, but Sirius Black didn’t mix with good people. That left James to save his sorry arse from kidnap, arrest or overdose at least two nights a week.

But something about this time felt different, James knew Sirius better than he knew himself, fuck Sirius was the closest thing to a brother he had ever had, and he knew by the phone call he had just received that something was very wrong. The call itself went something like this:

“Sirius, for fucks sake, where do you want me to get you from”

“Reggie- “

Reggie, as in…?

“No Sirius, I’m James I’m not- hurry up, I don’t have all night”

“Reg, I found it, it. I found it and- “

Then Sirius had started crying. Shit.

“Okay, okay, I’m on my way Sirius, where are you?”

“Century, I think, the one near- shit Reg I’m gunna be sick”

“Hang in there Padfoot”

Shit. Sirius was thinking about his brother. Sirius was crying. Something was wrong.

James sprinted around a corner sharply, nearly hitting a group of smoking teenagers of the streetcorner. He sped up, faster and faster. Sirius hadn’t sounded good on the call and James didn’t know how long he was going to hold out. James skidded to a halt outside the club called the Century that Sirius always went to when he wanted to get really drunk, or if he wanted a restock on drugs. His favourite dealer, some bloke called Xenophilius hung around there a lot and the drinks were dirt cheap and always laced with mysterious substances.

James pushed straight past the bouncer, a bored looking guy in his mid-twenties who wasn’t even sober enough to notice the group of young teenagers that had walked in ahead of James. He shoved them out of the way.

The club was full of flashing lights and crowded with people. James instantly felt uncomfortable. There was so much noise, so many people and things he simply wasn’t used to.

James Potter did not discriminate, in fact he fast a firm believer in equality for all, and having faced a tonne of racism from being the only Indian kid in his school, he was still popular, but his and Sirius’ so called friends liked to comment, ESPECIALLY after Sirius left because of the sex tapes, James became the brown friend of the weird dropout queer. But the problem with going to boarding school, being the son of a billionaire and a princess and being pretty popular for most of his time there, he was never exposed to a lot of normal teen stuff, so lots of it made him uncomfortable. He was trying, truly, but it was hard.

He pushed past lots of people, the sounds and colours were overwhelming, everyone was making out and dancing too close. A guy, who must’ve been around fifty approached him and smiled

“Why hello handsome, I’m-”

“Sorry, not interested”. James loved people, being around people, usually he breathed them in like oxygen and they gave him so much life, but he felt so out of place here, he felt so lost, he couldn’t find Sirius, and Sirius wasn’t well.

James couldn’t breathe,

breathe in, breathe out,

he needed to find Sirius,

breathe in, breathe out,

he had to find Sirius. Please Sirius.

“Sirius!” he yelled, “Sirius”, then he saw him, spread lazily over a chaise longue, smoking some unknows substance, with a girl who was wearing a dress, that could hardly be called a dress and a boy in tiny shorts sat around him. His pupils were dilated, his hair was a mess, he had lipstick stains down his chest and his glittery flared trousers were unbuttoned. His shirt was clearly forgotten about. He looked so gone. He looked so high.

Shit.

“Sirius, are you okay, you were throwing up, are you-”

“Jamesss” Sirius slurred. Great, he was pissed as well, “Jamesss, you’re here, Reggie is coming James”

“Get up Sirius” James commanded. Sirius shot him a look like a child about to have a tantrum.

“No” Then James realised Sirius actually might be about to cry.

“Hey, hey , it’s okay” he looked over at the sniggering pair sat around Sirius “Fuck off before I make you” he spat at them. “Hey, come on Sirius, we’re going home,” He begged. He didn’t want Sirius to cry. Please could Sirius not cry. He couldn’t handle this right now. Not since- well, he would tell Sirius that tomorrow.

“B-but Reggie-“Sirius gulped

“Is in France,” James stated. Sirius sobbed.

“Hey, hey no, he’s okay I promise, I know it”

“Are you sure?”

“Would I ever lie to you Pads, now come on” James grunted as he pulled Sirius’ arm over his shoulder and hauled him. Come on please, James’s thought, just back to the flat. Please. They did get back to the flat eventually, after an hour of dragging, they got back to the flat and they collapsed together onto the sofa.

“James” Sirius whispered, clearly losing consciousness as he spoke

“Yeah” James muttered, almost as tired as Sirius obviously was

“I’m sorry”. And to that, James just smiled as Sirius slipped into unconsciousness on the sofa.

His Best Friend was an idiot. He was a total idiot, but he was still his Best Friend, the closest thing he had ever had to a brother. Whenever James saw Sirius in one of his states, whenever James saw Sirius overdosed, ridiculously drunk or crying, James never once felt disgust or annoyance. James loved Sirius like he was he brother he never had, he had Sirius at his highest point, at his lowest and at almost everything in between. James knew he could never understand the absolute extent of pain Sirius had felt in his life, but James could support him through everything from here on out. All James had ever wanted was to fall in love, to have a wife, and a family and a white picket fence. James wanted to do it all, paint the front of his house with his wife and take their little baby to swimming lessons. Shit, James had been betrothed to a German aristocrat’s daughter called Lily, but after a heated argument between his mother and his grandfather, the agreement had been cancelled. But he would sacrifice all of that for Sirius in a second. A life with Sirius was all the love he needed, because in being friends with Sirius, James had learned that love was more than romance, love was finding someone or something that felt like home. And for James, that was Sirius.

James sighed as he rose from the sofa, carful to rise slowly so the sound of the springs didn’t wake Sirius, and left Sirius snoring softly to himself. He shuffled out of the room, still carefully quiet. The kitchen light buzzed on as he flicked the switch and approached the counter. He pulled out his favourite coffee and pottered around the kitchen making it. When it was in a cup, James put three sachets of creamer and stared absently into the coffee as he mixed.

James was zoning in and out of reality and he wasn’t really focused. He collapsed onto the wooden chair next to the kitchen table and the coffee was quickly forgotten about. James put his head in his hands. He inhaled deeply.

James had started suffering from insomnia when he was thirteen. He had tried everything, doctors had recommended every tip and trick in the book. Nothing had worked. As he got older, it had gotten better. And by now it was only really a problem when he was worried about something. And yeah, James was worried about Sirius, but he had more to be worried about.

Earlier that day, he had received a phone call from his dad, Sirius had been at work. Calls from home were normal, but James had known something was off before he even heard what his dad had to say. His parents only ever called after lunch, it was just something that they had always done as a family. So when, at ten thirty, James picked up the phone to his dad’s voice, he instantly knew something was very wrong.

In his opinion, Euphemia and Fleamont Potter where the most perfect people James had ever met. James loved his parents with fierce passion, similar to how he loved Sirius. They were the only couple James had ever met who, in their early late fifties, still loved one another like they were obsessed teenagers and James idolised it. James had been raised around so much love, and because of this if anything was even slightly wrong, James knew. James asked his dad what was wrong. And that was when everything began to fall in on him.

His mother had cancer. His beautiful, brave, immortal mother had cancer and there was nothing he could do about it. James had thought that his parents were just immune to anything, they were so…big. They were so enduring. His dad had worked up from nothing, a broke kid from east London who had made it out. He had invented a hair treatment called Sleakeazy’s, he had skyrocketed to fame and proceed to pump out more and more men’s beauty products, making millions. At University, he had met Euphemia Baniya, the vivacious, quick-witted daughter of an exiled Indian royal, she was intelligent, endlessly funny and a whiz in the kitchen. Euphemia and Fleamont had tried for years to have children, and had greatly struggled for years, until James had come along, their miracle. And now his mum had cancer now she needed another fucking miracle. It was breast cancer, stage three. Hid dad told him in a voice that sounded muffled by tears that it had a five-year survival rate of eighty-six percent. But all James could think about was the other fourteen percent, shit. James was going to see his mother in a couple of days, the first time he could get down to Potter mansion.

When he put down the phone, he had cried. He had cried because he felt like he was losing apart of himself. He cried because he didn’t know how he would keep going without his mum. He had planned to tell Sirius when he got home from work. But that plan had fallen in quite quickly. James knew that Sirius needed him right now, he had been so fucked up since they left school, and it only got worse as the years went by. And James was so fucking tired. He was- he was so tired. -

                                                                                                               ---Oo0oO---

James jumped awake with a start

“Shit” he groaned, squinting his eyes, trying to figure out where exactly he was. He was sat down somewhere and… then everything came into focus.

“Shit” he muttered again; he had fallen asleep at the table. He slumped against the table, groaning, before looking at the clock on the wall.

“SHIT” he shouted out, the chair he had been sat in clattering to the side in his haste as he jumped up. He was late for work, like four hours late for work. How on earth had he managed to sleep for that long. He sighed. He’d deal with it tomorrow; he was a good worker and his boss should let him off this once.

“Sirius?” he called out, searching the flat for his friend, but Sirius was nowhere to be found, instead on the sofa James saw a note.:

'Thanks for saving my neck yesterday, had to work early today, didn’t want to disturb you, Love, Sirius (your favourite best friend).'

James sighed. He had been working really hard recently, and with the news of his mother and the stress of the last night, his anxiety was at an all-time high. Maybe he did deserve a day off. He changed into fresh, comfortable clothes and settled down in front of the TV. He scanned the room for the remote and apon locating it he switched the TV on. The first thing that flashed across the screen was the news headline.

And that’s when James Potter’s life, that had already been turned upside down, was flipped in on itself.

He had to get to Sirius, NOW.

James wasn’t thinking, he couldn’t string a coherent thought together, separate pockets of consciousness that usually braided together to a single stream fragmented and James was just panicking. He sped to his room and hastily pulled on a pair of jeans and a T- shirt. He didn’t bother to brush his teeth, or to fix his hair, both things that were staples of his overly extravagant morning routine.

Instantly, James ran to the kitchen counter, he scrabbled with the clutter that was strewn across the space, desperately looking for something he had left there and forgotten about. Shit- James really hoped he hadn’t thrown it in the bin. He exhaled as he found the business card with the address of Sirius’ job from Sirius’ boss that Sirius had given him in a feeble attempt to recruit him.

Obviously, he knew Sirius did Porn and was okay with it. Sirius was living his life, doing what he loved was the comfort that some of his friends down the pub gave him. But sometimes, James wondered if he was the only one who knew Sirius truly. He didn’t want this to be true, but James had had to except it. Porn and Drugs and playing every girl guy and everyone in between was never Sirius’ dream. It was just a stupid thing he told himself he loved but was subconsciously doing it to spite his parents. All through the time James had known him, all Sirius had wanted to do was to be an actor. He was incredible at it as well, the way his French accent articulated verbs in a way no Englishman could muster and delivered them with such eloquence to move a crowd of people to tears. That was skill. Not how much substances it would take to overdose, not how many people can fuck you at once. James loved Sirius, but sometimes when he saw his best friend, all he could see was how much happier Sirius would be if he just lived his life for him, Sirius.

But this news meant that any mere hope of this was gone, and any whisper of hope James may have had that Sirius would find himself was gone. James Potter didn’t bother putting shoes on that day. He ran out of the flat in just his mismatched socks and ripped up jeans, a man on a mission. A mission to get to Sirius Black before the press.

He sprinted down the stairs, apologising profusely to the group of chattering elderly ladies he barged past. He sprinted down street after street, earning judgemental looks from people seeing his lack of footwear and unbuttoned shirt.

James didn’t take much notice of them, he needed to get to Sirius.

He started turning down gloomier and gloomier side streets, kids were smoking on every street corner, but James barely took notice, running until he skidded to a halt at the entrance to an alleyway between two buildings. From what he could remember from the card, this was the side street where Sirius worked. He slowly approached the door, a flashing pink light screaming at him from above it… yeah, Sirius probably worked here.

When he pushed on the door he found that it was unlocked. Like anyone could just walk in. Ah, that’s when the security stepped in front of him. They were big guys, but so was James and James couldn’t care less, there was so much adrenaline pumping through his veins that he just shoved past them. He had to find Sirius. James stalked straight over to the man who looked like he was in charge, the guy who must’ve been a director or someone who sat in a directors seat for fun.

“Where is he?” James blabbed, not even thinking about what he was saying.

“Who- ah so you are the Prince’s hot friend, huh?”

“The Prince, Sirius, where is he”

“Oh, well I can’t just tell you that beautiful, why don’t you just-“ James didn’t have times for that bullshit.

“SIRIUS, SIRIUS” he shouted at the top of his lungs, so that people could probably hear him two buildings across. The glare of the lights and whatever was floating in the air was starting to get to his head and he was starting to cause more and more commotion on the set, and camera people, actors and security were starting to get restless and annoyed by his presence, or at least the ones sober enough to notice.

Suddenly, James heard a faint call from the other room

“James?” Sirius. James sprinted in, not even thinking about how Sirius would be presented, and promptly looked away as he saw Sirius laying butt naked on a ridiculous, pink sofa. And for once in his life, James decided he’d remind him later. Sirius was drunk, slurring his words and looking so detached from the room he may as well have started flying.

“Heyyy, James, get out, I’m naked, you know I don’t- “

“Alphard is dead, Sirius”. Sirius stopped in his tracks, frozen.

“Excuse me- “He demanded, pulling a robe on, making him marginally more decent.

“Alphard is- “

“Yeah, no shit I got that” Sirius stated to his best friend, his momentary shock wearing off and he seemed to renter the state of delirium her had been in before

“Why does that affect me… WOO HOO,” he started sarcastically almost cackling and James’ heart broke a bit, knowing that he would have to tell him the bad news,

“people I don’t know or don't want to know will get a shittone of inheritance and my idiot brother will become king, now go home James,”

“Sirius- “James groaned, desperate not to have to tell him.

“Jaaamesssss” Sirius smiled.

“Alphard named you his heir on his deathbed, you’re getting everything, the money, the land. Your brother-“

“Won’t be becoming King because...” Sirius continued for him, his eyes slowly shutting off. Sirius was slowly shutting off. James knew all of Sirius, he had helped him through so many different challenges. James would always help Sirius, but James had only seen Sirius like this once before, and it hadn’t ended well at all.

“He won’t be king because only you can now. You're Sirius Orion Black, King of-” James hadn’t even finished speaking when Sirius slammed his head against the dressing table, knocking himself out, cold. James caught him before he hit the ground. He was bleeding, shit. As he shouted for someone to call an ambulance, he realised with a suppressed sob, that these next few months were going to kill both of them.

Chapter Text

Regulus

Regulus Black was absolutely your average prince.

His name literally meant “Little Prince” in Latin (he would know, he had spoken it since he was a boy). He was literally everything you would expect the perfect prince to be. He was royal, well-mannered and well behaved. He was the handsome prince Regulus Arcturus Black of France, the poster boy for royalty. Regulus wasn’t stupid, he knew all the royal stuff was a load of bullshit from his parents, but Regulus also wasn’t his idiotic brother.

Regulus’ brother had been called Sirius. He wasn’t his brother anymore.

He hadn’t been his brother for five long years and the one thing that kept Reg’s peace was the fact that he was in England. He was in England and certainly not hiding. Since the sex tapes of Sirius had been leaked and his parents pulled both boys from school Sirius had started not caring about paparazzi. Sirius had started enjoying the undivided attention. Attention on him, him, him. He had always been a rebel, playing petty pranks all through their childhood, then when he had gotten to school in England, he had met his practically delinquent friends, and it seemed there could be no end to his reign of terror.  But this Sirius was different. Because yeah, Sirius Black was one attention seeking bitch. Even at school, he could remember Sirius and his friends, their teachers despaired at the sight of those marauders (as they called themselves) Sirius would go out of his way for everyone to see and hear him exist. But Sirius fucked everything up. Stupid. He was so stupid. Being raised under the blinding flashes of cameras he should’ve known, known to be careful. But apparently not. And from that moment on Sirius left him. Regulus was named heir. It had taken years fir the family to regain their reputation. Regulus was only fifteen years old and people were already asking him “ton pénis est-il aussi gros que tes frères”.

To make everything worse, as it seemed everything was over, Sirius started featuring in the most successful series of Pornographic movies is history. After he got to England, for the first few year’s things quietened down, however, less than two years after Sirius ran away, Reg struggled to go a day without being flashed a photo of his brothers naked body, and he felt fifteen again. And France was in jeopardy, again. Their whole childhood Sirius had protected Reg from their parent’s wrath, but now their rage was all his to bathe in, a sea of hate that was not even his. An ocean of cruel words that he felt like he was going to drown in. But he was Regulus Black, he wasn’t his brother.

And Regulus Black couldn’t swim

Regulus rolled from staring at the ceiling to facing the wall. But suddenly he heard the clip, clip of the maid’s footsteps. She walked in and addressed him, he sat up suddenly, flattening his hair to seem at least a meagre degree of presentable:

“Maître Regulus, votre mère a un message pour vous.”

“Oui, Elodie, dites-le nous?”

“Regulus, la famille Rosier est ici pour discuter des modalités de votre mariage.” -oh yeah. Regulus didn’t even pretend to himself that he had remembered that. He had better

“Merci, Elodie, dis-lui que j'arrive dans une minute. "She left.

Well shit.

That had not been on Regulus’ summer plans list, though it may have been nice to see Dora and possibly Evan again, though the Rosier twins were his friends, that didn’t mean he wanted to marry Pandora, he had been prepared for this for years of course, when his brother had been around fourteen, Sirius finally put two and two together about how messed up it was that they were both engaged to their cousins as children, Sirius had press he could tell this information to with the click of a button, and for the first time Walburga and Orion Black felt threatened. It had been one of the loudest arguments Reg had ever hidden from and when Sirius walked up the stairs, passing by his thirteen-year-old brother who was waiting at the bannisters, he had been clearly limping. Despite this, the very next week, Regulus and Sirius were both engaged to upstanding royals and nobles. Sirius to some Austrian Princess, from the house Gaunt and Regulus had been promised to Pandora Rosier, of house Rosier, one of the most prominent families in France. Though he hated to admit it, Pandora was lovely, and her twin brother was one of the only people he could actually tolerate. But he didn’t love her. No matter how hard his parents tried, the affection between them never extended beyond that of a platonic affiliation. He sighed as he slumped back down onto the bed. Staring at the ceiling. No matter whether he loved Dora or not, they were getting married. No more dodging it now, no more laughing it off, no more “not for a couple years yet”. This. Was. It.

Motherfuckers.

Regulus stumbled out of bed (Regulus Black probably shouldn’t’ve been in bed at midday. But he was also Regulus Black and constantly stayed up until unholy times of night. And he was also NOT a morning person) and towards the chair where Elodie had prepared a neat pile of semi-formal clothing for the meeting. It was Green. He smiled. Green was his favourite colour. Elodie must’ve been the only person who knew that apart from Sirius.

He dressed quickly and ambled, rubbing sleep from his cloudy eyes, to his ensuite bathroom. He faced into the delicate, gold, intricately designed mirror and stared miserably at the boy who stared back at him. Yeah, he was average, for a prince. He brushed and poked his dark hair, so the short style was neatly out of his face, the light from the sunrise catching it and making it low, making him look like a stupid sort of angel, like the ugly baby cherubs that had lined the walls of his and Sirius’ nursery as infants.

He reached for his (ridiculously overpriced) cologne, he couldn’t find it so he yanked open the drawers and before he could stop himself his fingers met the handheld mirror he had tried desperately to forget about, and like he was drowning in the great expanse of the glass, he choked.

But that was pretty much the last of it. He slammed the drawer closed, and after a couple of deep breaths he shook it off. Regulus Black had given up on other people's bullshit years ago. When Sirius left, Regulus made sure to kill the part of himself that cared. Caring had never gotten anyone anywhere, and Regulus wasn’t exactly special enough to be the first. He wasn’t his brother. Never his brother. But in killing the part of himself that cared Regulus killed the part of himself that could keep afloat, so he sat in the depths of the lake he was digging deeper daily. Drowning hadn’t hurt for years now. In a way, the pressure on his lungs was a comfort. The hate he had for Sirius Black was such a sweet comfort. It helped him sleep at night to imagine crushing his lungs, as he had been doing to Regulus for these last five years.

Regulus strode down the stairs, his stride lengthening with every step, his posture straightening. As he reached the doorway, he took one last deep breath and stepped into the room.

“Maman”, he bowed deeply at his mother,

“Mme Rosier, Evan” He bowed again, though slightly less deeply, as they weren't royals. 

“Et Miss Pandora, charmée” he took her hand and kissed it, from the corner of his eyes he could make out Evan suppressing a laugh. He raised an eyebrow that no one would even see except Evan, with his quick eyes and fast instincts.

“Regulus” his mother addressed him, for a moment, Regulus thought he saw a flicker of pride in her eyes, but that must’ve been the light. Regulus knew his parents would never be proud of him when he had given them three perfect male heirs and become king of France. The second of which was impossible, of course. The king was his great uncle, not his father, but his parents were ambitious. The first one, Regulus would just have to work harder. Work harder to love Pandora, to be the perfect son. He couldn’t just take an easy way out like Sirius. He had to keep swimming, and when you’re in the middle of a lake there’s no easy way out you have to just swim, even if there are people trying to hold you down, just keep swimming, or you’ll drown.

He imagined he heard a voice in his ear “Care just enough that you don’t have to Regulus, please, little prince”. But he must’ve just imagined it.

“on va déjeuner alors ?”

Lunch was not exactly enjoyable. It was one long, arduous affair of their mothers discussing the details of Regulus’ and Pandora’s own wedding right in front of them, as though it would be tomorrow. Throughout all of this Evan was pulling stupid faces at Reg and Pandora, and while Reg was amazing at keeping a straight face, the last one had Pandora ducking under the table and fake coughing to hide her laugh, blonde hair brushing the floor. That earned a few stern looks from both mothers, but Regulus saw Elodie smile from the corner of his eyes. He looked back to the mothers, but this time he looked at their eyes.

Royal meetings, dinners, events, anything like this were always the same. A whole lot of useless talk and barely ever getting to the point. Regulus had never been much of a charisma guy. That had always been Sirius. But now he was displayed for the world he had to fake it until he made it. Anyway, at all of these events Regulus hated everything about them except when his mother finally left him alone. When Regulus was left to himself at parties, he didn’t go and talk to eligible ladies. He didn’t network. When Regulus black was left alone at parties, he grabbed two shots of Vodka, took both at once and sat down. There he engaged in his favourite activity. People watching. Regulus had always been naturally skilled at reading people. He would watch every small movement of everyone and know just what was going on. He would know their stories. Regulus was also an avid reader, so that must’ve helped he supposed. He knew that Duc Charles de La Rochefoucauld and his wife were both seeing other people, he knew that Comtesse Marie de L'Orme and her husband were on the brink of divorce, and Marie had feelings for Charles. And he could see all of it in just their eyes. Regulus saw love as something that flew past him, like a swallow migrating from somewhere cold to somewhere warm. They didn’t stop in the middle where it was neither. That was Regulus, nothing. Some days, Regulus knew there must be something in him, because he felt fire in him, but most days he felt like a shell. So, love was a swallow to him, he felt it fly past him, the wind hurt his face, and he could almost smell it. It was all around him, but was never his and never would be, because even though the swallow would eventually turn back, it would never stop. But rather than any of this, he kept swimming, never letting himself be dragged down. Never caring too much.

But he could read eyes. And from what he could tell from the eyes around the table was that his own mother, desperate for an heir, really was desperate to save the reputation of the family too. And she knew this union would be the only way to do it. She was the most nervous Regulus had ever seen her and that was saying something, as she was usually as soulless as Regulus if she wasn’t angry. Mrs Rosier was scared. She was a good woman, but feared the wrath of the infamous Walburga black, she was holding back a secret too, about Pandora too. Something that could be detrimental to he marriage. Pandora did not want to marry Regulus but was desperate to please her mother. Evan was bored.

Typical.

The tea was good, he supposed, but they were also sat there for three hours, and finally they retired, the younger three went to the drawing room, while the parents went to Regulus’ father, Orion Black’s, office. As soon as their mother was gone Evan and Pandora collapsed into chairs and started chattering away to each other in English.

“Did you see-“
“She isn’t half fucking scary, is she”

“God, I’m actually going to die if she picks my dress as well.” Evan and Pandora always spoke together in English. Their father had been English, and they had been raised in both languages, but since he died, their mother refused to speak the language, so it was perfect for them to talk together and not get in trouble for whatever they were discussing. Regulus had started to develop a habit for it whenever talking to people his age and had to actively avoid it.

He hadn’t been around this kind of comfortable socialisation for months, and though he could feel sirens going off in his mind, he couldn’t help but feel his lips softly rise, forming the ghost of a smile.

“Ah, so the little prince does have bloody emotions” Evan teased. Bloody was Evan’s favourite English word, it seemed by the way his eyes lit up

Regulus was not pleased, he raised his eyebrows and looked at Evan with a face that said, ‘try me’. Evan laughed.

Bloody typical. Reg let himself smile and shake hands with Evan again.

“Missed you, Black”

“Really?”

“Of course, we bloody have, you’ve been missing, haven’t you, Dora doesn’t believe in books, so I’ve had no one to talk about books with, you bastard”

Pandora smiled “Books are wonderful, but I’m sure there are better uses of your time” even in English, her voice was airy, even after she finished speaking, she was humming softly, brushing her platinum blonde hair behind her ears.

“What, marrying you?” Regulus muttered with the smallest smile.

“HEY, I did it, I made the witch smile” Pandora grinned, laughing, “well played Regulus, but that’s 1-0”

Regulus hated to admit it, but he really had missed them. When they were growing up, Regulus’ parents saw it fit that Regulus have some other children to socialise with, to further his already underdeveloped social skills, so his playmates had been two boys, the child of the most prominent family in France, other than the Blacks, of course, Evan Rosier, and the son of the Black family’s personal Lawyer, and close family friend, (who was also an Italian Viscount) Bartemius Crouch Junior. And everything had been great, until Sirius happened. After Sirius, Regulus had been isolated. The only times he saw people was when he was at balls or, apparently, when the Rosiers came for lunch. Ever since Barty’s uncle had gotten into some scandal with tax evasion, Regulus hadn’t even seen him at balls, the Crouch family’s reputation had been damaged, almost beyond repair.

So, even if this meeting would eventually lead to a loveless marriage, right now Regulus got to see some old friends. Regulus was not great at showing people he cared for them. But he thought, no, he knew, he did care for these two, so he settled down on the sofa next to them. He didn’t talk, he let them keep nattering away in English, while he just stared at the wall. And while it sounds awkward, it wasn’t, and for one moment, like the calm before a storm, Regulus Black felt something like peace.

After the Rosiers left, Regulus rose and made his way to his father’s office. Regulus hated weakness. Any sign of it. And most of all he hated experiencing it himself, but there was no denying the wave of fear that washed over him in that moment.

Just keep swimming.

The door was tall, dark and imposing, but Regulus knew that was nothing to what he had experienced within that room as a child. He knew his experience could hardly be the worst, but still, the door of the room made him quake slightly.

He took a breath. Don’t drown.

“Regulus”

“Père” He bowed, low, to his father.

“alors, Regulus, comment as-tu trouvé le déjeuner ?”

“c'était bien père, moi et Pandora nous entendons bien”

His father sniffed, in what seemed to be approval “au moins un de mes fils peut s'engager dans son devoir”. Regulus was shocked by this, neither of his parents ever mentioned Sirius, but this must’ve meant something.

Don’t look like that Regulus, curiosity killed the cat, and the cat is scared of water. If it doesn’t keep swimming, it’ll drown.

“merci, père”

“Le mariage doit avoir lieu dimanche prochain”

“excusez-moi?!”

Excuse me?! In a week?! Regulus Black had a week. Wow.

“Regulus?” His father questioned, in the most threatening way possible.

“Tres bien” he hurried “merci”

He walked slowly out of the office and sped up, as he approached his room, he could feel his breaths get shorter and sharper as his back slipped down the door that , being in a palace, towered over him, making him feel smaller. This marriage business, Regulus hadn’t thought anything of it. He still had time. He thought he still had time. But he had to face the music. And he found he wasn’t as fine with it as he thought he would be. He didn’t want to. He felt ten again. The night after Sirius first left for England for boarding school was the first time Regulus had tried to sleep in a building that didn’t have his big brother down the hall. He remembered it very clearly. He was there, then he was shaking. When Elodie found him at around two in the morning, she had held him for the rest of the night. It was the first of many of these experiences, but that night was the worst. Now, he couldn’t control his hands. He was running them up and down his arms and his breathing felt separated. It felt lie half of his being was imploding into a hole in his chest, a sort of energy. He was drowning, he was drowning, he was drowning.

But he had to keep swimming.

Regulus Black couldn’t remember the next few hours. They were a blur of thoughts. This happened to Regulus a lot. It was fine, he was always fine, and when he came to he took a deep breath and stood up. It was dark now. He could see his reflection in the mirror across the room. He approached it slowly. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked… well he looked cold. He stared at his reflection and all he could wonder, though he tried to help it, was what the brother who he had always been told looked so very like him was doing right now.

He hated himself for the little part of him that lived deep, deep within him. The part that hoped that Sirius Black was okay.

And it was weak parts of him that he had to kill. He hated that part of him more than words could describe. Blacks did not have weaknesses. Toujours pur. That is why Sirius would never be a Black. He would be a Potter. That name made a sharp light flash across his vision.

And that name would never be a weakness to him again.

Stupid, stupid. Regulus was so stupid, he couldn’t care about any of this, and regardless. He had to get fucking married. And he couldn’t stop it. And he had to keep swimming. For the family. They were always pure. The family was a rose bush, and the dead heads had to be cut for the flowers to fully bloom.

Regulus remembered when someone showed him those videos of his brother with a man. It was unnatural. That was what they had always been taught. If you had those thoughts, you could not be proud of them, you couldn’t be loud about them, because if you saw it, no you didn’t. And these dead heads had to me removed. Of course, this behaviour wasn’t uncommon. Regulus knew that behind closed doors, any number of these things happened. He wasn’t stupid. But he would never let such feelings control him. Not… not again.

Suddenly, Regulus saw the clock. It was eleven o’clock. He may as well try to sleep. He slipped his plaid pyjama trousers on and curled into bed. The darkness engulfed the room as the sheets pulled Regulus into the darkness of unconsciousness. This was the earliest Regulus Black had managed to get to sleep for months now.

His dream was hazy, but he could hear people.

He could hear Sirius, the night before he left, speaking English as he had been for the past few weeks as an act of rebellion, “Are you coming or are you going to keep fighting”

He could hear his mother “tout depend de toi maintenant fils, ne ruine pas cette famille”. He would, he would carry the family. He was to be king one day, so he would continue the legacy.

His father “tu n’as pas ce qu’il faut pour etre la moitie de l’homme que Sirius aurait pu etre” He knew. Of course, he fucking knew. He remembered his father saying that the night Sirius left. Of course he knew.

And then he heard him. He hadn’t seen James Potter in years and yet the voice of the boy he hated almost as much as his brother swam to the forefront of his mind. “I’ll protect him Regulus. I promise” To right you fucking will. You’re his brother after all.

BANG. Regulus Black was a light sleeper. He had to sleep in absolute science, so as soon as he heard that bang, he was awake. It must’ve been four, five in the morning and there was a bang from his window. He rolled out of bed, literally and crashed slightly into the floor. He walked slowly towards the window. There were reporters outside. So many reporters and they all had cameras and vans and- they weren’t supposed to be here. Didn’t they have security to stop them from throwing shoes at Regulus’ window. He hurried to the door, to tell someone, anyone, about this.

 But his door was locked. He rattled the handle around, he pushed it. Then he started slamming against the wall.

“Elodie” He called, he tried to call again, but he just collapsed against the door. He didn’t have the energy. He couldn’t. But as he slipped back into sleep, leant against the wall, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong.

This time, he came to much more peacefully, still leant against the door, there was a stillness in the air that he didn’t like. Something was very fucking wrong. He rose, slowly, pulling on a ridiculously overpriced (you may be guessing that “ridiculously overpriced” was a theme of Regulus’ life) wool jumper to cover his chest and turned to try the door handle again. It opened. He hadn’t been expecting that if he was perfectly honest. He ran back into his room ang grabbed his slippers, and strode down the hall, ready for answers and not about to take no for an answer. There were never reporters for nothing. His room had never been locked. Point blank, even when Sirius had- when his brother had left. He quickened his pace to nearly a run as he approached his father’s office. He was going to find out. He was turning a corner when he crashed straight into Elodie. He reached out a hand to help her up but started when he saw the look of terror on her face.

“Élodie, que se passe-t-il” he said, so clearly, as though she were a child.

“Monsieur, je ne suis pas censé...” She was nearly hyperventilating. He was desperate for her to calm down, Elodie was never stressed, in fact she was his ever present calm voice of reason, so why was she acting like this.

“Élodie s'il te plait” He was nearly yelling, and both the people, the boy and the woman who was like a mother to him looked at each other strangely, both of them acting so very out of character.

“Elodie…”

“Regulus... Moi, très bien.” He knew he had gotten through to her “Il est mort mon garçon, Alphard est mort”

What. King Alphard. The King.

Regulus Black was heir to the fucking throne.

Regulus Black was the fucking king.

Right?

Elodie was looking at him funny.

“Elodie, Elodie s'il te plaît, qu'est-ce que tu ne me dis pas.” Regulus begged, what dignity he had left leaving his body, the fucking King?!

“Regulus” She was crying. Regulus didn’t know if he could handle this.

“Ça ne peut pas être pire, s'il te plait” Please please, tell him. It couldn’t get worse.

She burst into tears, “Il... il nomme Sirius son héritier. Sirius Black est le roi de France.”

Fils de pute.

And that was when Regulus realised that this was going to fucking kill him.