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Regulus Black was born into his responsibility. He never had a moment where he wasn’t looking over his shoulder to see if he was doing something wrong. The paranoia never left. Not when his brother was causing trouble, not when he was all alone, not when he was asleep. He learned to just sit quietly and accept the role he had been given. Unlike his brother who took his role and choose to ignore it completely.
Regulus could never understand how his brother could lash out at their parents. He understood the want to but never could because how was he supposed to stand up to two people who knew so little of mercy. He knew if they rounded on him he wouldn’t be able to defend himself, so he began building a tower.
When he went to Hogwarts, nothing changed, the paranoia stayed, his brother kept at his mischief, his parents kept him as the Christ to his brothers Anti-Christ. His tower was much to young to topple.
When he joined Bellatrix in the tirade, almost nothing changed, the paranoia stayed, his brother kept at his mischief, his parents kept him as the Christ to his brother’s Anti-Christ, but now there was more. The paranoia was amplified like his brother’s music during christmas. His brother joined the opposition, and his parents told him he was their greatest achievement (he knew that was only because his brother was their worst mistake.) His tower grew taller, but not quiet ready to fall.
He accepted it all with unadulterated apathy. So what if the paranoia brought dreams of the Dark Lord torturing his brother. So what if he fought his brother on raids. So what if his parents cared only as long as his brother didnt. So what if his brother had become the Anti-Christ he was supposed to relinquish the people from.
When Regulus let the Dark Lord borrow Kreature, he knew immediately that he would regret it. He knew it would topple the tower of suppressed anger that had become a strange masterpiece of his own pain.
When Regulus started making a plan, he was surprised. He knew he was going to die. He knew he was going to be a small part of such a large resistance. He knew that no one would find out about his rebellion for years maybe even decades. He knew that he would become the Anti-Christ his parents despised. He was ready to topple the tower.
When Regulus began drinking the poison, he was silent. The tower was strangely still and calm for a small moment.
When Regulus couldn’t quench his thirst, he was loud. He couldn’t stop yelling. He knew he would be dead soon. He wasn’t afraid.
As Regulus kept forcing the poison down his throat, he thought about how his brother, his parents, his Dark Lord, his fellow death eaters, his old classmates, would react to his death.
Regulus Arcturus Black died with tears, previously unshed, streaming down his face. He died with a thousand regrets. He died with a dream.
He died smiling as the tower crashed taking out everything in its vicinity.