Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The morning of the day Sirius Black becomes king, he has no idea what awaits him so soon into the future. Maybe it was always wishful thinking, but he thought he would have more time. 

He supposes that it’s fairly natural to see one’s parents as immortal. An immobile force, everlasting and always present. King Orion Black II was no exception. 

The king was of an old tradition; respect , according to him, could not be achieved without fear. This did not only apply to the kingdom and its people at large, but also his family, his sons. The only one that didn’t seem to hold an ounce of revulsion towards the king was the queen, and that was not because she loved him, or that he loved her. It is safe to say that Sirius and Orion did not have the closest relationship.

In Orion’s mind worship and awe were forever and always tied together, one could not exist without the other. 

And he was seemingly right, until a rogue soldier stabbed him to death in front of the wealthiest and most powerful men in the country, along with the royal family itself, and his closest men in the army. 

Sirius was the one closest to Orion, always, and found himself hovering above his father, hands soaked in red slippery blood as the king indignantly gasped for breath. Spluttering and with tears in his eyes, he didn’t seem like the ruthless monarch he had always been. The man Sirius never wanted to be like.

It’s with red-stained hands and clothes that Sirius realises that he is about to become king. Something he never wanted, selfishly, not when he saw Orion order executions like he was ordering food for a feast, when he looked with disinterest at women crying, begging for kinder legislation, letting them keep more of their harvest instead of having to give most of it away to the crown. Not when his brother Regulus, the king’s own flesh and blood, flinched whenever he raised his voice, unable to look his father in the eyes. 

Now Regulus is running towards the man that stabbed his father. If Regulus hadn’t been so fast and Sirius able to see through the tears in his eyes, he would’ve seen the almost -perfectly concealed fear on his younger brother’s face; the way his eyebrows are just slightly drawn together, mouth pressed into a thin line. The alarming paleness, given how light Regulus’s skin — even lighter than Sirius’s — was normally. 

His friends, skilled soldiers, advisors, school mates, and now lifeguards, he supposes, gather around him and Orion, encircling them. Only James runs after the younger prince, the rest leaving it to the guards around the amphitheatre to capture the man. 

The man is thankfully running away from his brother, but he can’t look away until the three of them have disappeared from his view anyway, in fear that if he does, another one of his family members might be murdered. 

Wheezing from Orion makes him look down at the man below him.

“Father,” he says, more of a whine because of the lump in his throat. 

He doesn’t know what he’s crying for. Orion has been a terrible father; it does not matter how he’s always favoured Sirius, with the way he treated everyone else. But still he doesn’t want him to die. 

And he doesn’t want to become king. Not yet. It’s… it’s too much, it is both the blessing and the curse of Sirius’s life. Sirius needs more time to be as normal as he can be, because he will never be again, after this. There is no going back. 

Everyone is dressed in white today, including Orion. The only one that never obliges is his mother, who always dresses in black.

The white fabric makes the bloodstains even more stark, the contrast sharp against the lightness. Sirius can see nothing but red and Orion’s eyes going distant until the light leaves them all together. Just empty shells of what they used to be. 

Sirius stares and then he screams. It doesn’t really sound like himself, but it’s his throat that hurts and his mouth that goes dry. 

All around him, there are women and men yelling, running away, while some stand frozen, and some pause mid-step, waiting for what happens next now that the murderer is driven away. It is chaotic. 

Sirius is shielded and breathing heavily, staring at his dead father, at the shiny blood on his hands. They shake as he tries to wipe them off on his own white tunic. 

The ring around him opens and James enters, immediately falling to his knees in front of Sirius. Large hands are placed on the sides of Sirius’s face and Sirius looks up to meet familiar brown eyes. His best friend.

“He’s dead,” James grits out, and it’s unclear whether he means the king or the murderer. 

Sirius nods jerkily, his eyes stinging, his heart rushing in his chest. 

“You’re the king now, Sirius,” he says then, inching even closer, until their foreheads are touching. “You can do this.”

For a second, it’s just them, all else fading away. Sirius breathes in, and out, trembling.

Then James starts pulling him up, and another one of his men, Peter, is immediately there to help him. Once upright, James grabs Sirius’s wrist — deep red and slippery still — and quickly pulls his arm up with his own.  

“Sirius,” he yells to the crowd in front of them, the men around him parting so that Sirius is revealed once more to the people, who stop in their tracks, staring at them. “Son of Orion the second. The new king! King Sirius III!” 

Fabian and Gideon, twins with characteristically red hair, begin chanting his name, and the crowd follows along, slowly but surely. Peter and James too. 

Sirius can barely hear it over the thumping of his own heart, the whooshing sound of his own blood in his ears. It sounds like the waves of the ocean rolling into the shore. 

Sirius’s eyes drag over the people around him, looking for someone important and then he finds him; Regulus . His younger brother has stopped a few metres away, and he looks alright. Both he and James are fine. They survived. A murder took place right in front of them, and they went after him, but they are both still alive.  

Though Regulus’s hands are red-stained and it’s not from their father. His shoulders are drooping and his light eyes are stuck on the body by Sirius’s feet. He looks like he might throw up any minute. 

Regulus doesn’t see Sirius looking at him for what feels like ages, until, for some reason, Regulus’s gaze darts up to meet Sirius. They stare at each other for a moment, before Regulus looks up at the people chanting for his brother. Then, he slowly walks closer to Sirius and his men, coming to stand somewhere behind them, getting into line as he was brought up to do. Uniting in front of the crowd. Conform or disappear, those are options, and they both know it. 

Hours later, Sirius sits on his father’s throne. His throne. The events of the morning feel like weeks ago, and simultaneously like Orion is about to waltz into the room, half-drunk and celebrating, at any given moment. 

But as the last group leaves — his father’s advisors, asking if they get to keep their posts — the throne room remains quiet. 

Sirius feels terribly alone. For all his life, he has been surrounded by people. When he was younger, still learning about the world, about fighting techniques, about philosophy and history, he was always surrounded by the boys who grew into his closest men, hand-picked by his father on diplomatic ground. There are lots of men with sons in Sirius’s age around here and if they weren’t included, it would mean one more enemy to the crown. Even Orion understood that, and gave in. 

Thankfully, he likes them all. They weren’t Orion’s favourites at all times, but they are Sirius’s. They grew up together. Now, they are nowhere to be seen. Because while they could all be princes of their own right — from the wealthiest families in the area — being king was solely Sirius’s destiny.

Or Regulus, should something happen to Sirius. 

Speaking of who, the heavy doors to the throne room are once again pulled open, to reveal a familiar figure. Sirius lets out a long-held breath upon seeing his own mirror, his shadow, his brother walking down the hall towards Sirius. He knows he must look imposing; the throne is big, resting on a platform so that the king can look down on all subjects, so that they have to tilt their heads back and face him. But Regulus is different, and he’s very welcome. They’ve shared a name, parents, childhood, even clothes and jewellery when they were younger and Sirius got something Regulus liked better. 

But then Regulus slowly falls down to his knees in front of Sirius, bowing his head down and Sirius feels ice pool in his stomach. Even his brother. 

His brother, who he played with in his youth. His brother, who never let Sirius tell him what to do. Kneeling, in front of him, because now he is Sirius’s subject, and Sirius is his king. 

“My king,” Regulus says and it doesn’t even sound like him even though his voice is the same as it was this morning. 

Sirius frowns, it feels wrong and foreign, but he purposefully smooths out his face when Regulus looks up at him.

Regulus’s breath hitches in his throat, he can’t help it. There is Sirius, with their father’s crown on his head, on their father’s throne, looking like a younger version of their father. The throne Regulus always wondered if he would ever sit on. Not that he wished to, because that would mean that Sirius wasn’t here anymore. 

This is a much better option, of course, although very strange. Sirius was just his older brother, now he is the king. No one else is above him, except for the gods. 

His entire life has led up to this. He was the spare, Sirius the heir. He is the smaller chambers, the fewer lessons, the less expensive clothes, the lack of appointed playmates and later lifeguards and right-hand men. If Sirius died, Regulus would step in, and inherit all that Sirius had, including his friends. If something was too dangerous for Sirius, Regulus would go instead. If someone needed to bleed, that would be Regulus, not Sirius. 

Now the last step is only his brother fathering children, and then Regulus’s sole purpose of existing will be dissolved. He will have completed what he was born to do. Then, he can disappear, at last.

“You don’t need to do that, Regulus,” Sirius says and Regulus promptly straightens up. 

He swallows before he asks the question he needs to. What he came here for.  “Do you want me to leave?”

“You just got here,” Sirius replies, frowning. He blinks, gaze fully blank. 

“Not the room,” Regulus says, managing to conceal the bossy-little-brother-tone in his voice. No more of that. It was never really okay, but especially not now. 

“Well, Regulus, I’ve always found you annoying, but it’s not that bad,” Sirius answers, with a small smile on his face. 

Regulus wonders if it’s all just denial. A survival mechanism. Regulus tries to put himself in his brother’s shoes; he probably has trouble keeping up with the entire situation. Regulus feels disoriented himself, grasping at details to focus his brain on, such as running after the attacker instead of facing the fact that his father is dying. 

For Sirius, it must be even worse, given the crown that rests on his head now. Regulus’s eyes attach to it. For some reason, as bizarre as all of this is, it looks like it has been there for a long time, like Sirius has always worn it.  

Regulus’s gaze lands on Sirius’s hands. There is still that red hue, staining them.

“I am being serious,” Regulus replies, voice flat but he can feel himself trembling, just a little bit. He wonders if Sirius can see. 

He really doesn’t want to, not yet, even though he probably should leave. It’d be better that way. Sirius can show that he is unthreatened on the throne, that he is secure and steady and ready to lead the kingdom into better times and Regulus—Regulus will finally be free. Free doing what he doesn’t know, living where—he doesn’t know either. But it will sort itself out. It has to be. 

But he’s scared, scared to leave the only home he has ever known, even if it wasn’t a good one. 

Sirius’s small smile turns sadder but doesn’t disappear.

Regulus stares at him, arms behind his back, one hand wrapped around the wrist of the other. His own grip is so tight that it hurts. He raises his chin a little. 

“Why would I want you to leave?” Sirius asks then, calm still, but genuinely confused. Sirius has always been a bit too transparent with his feelings, the complete opposite to Regulus.

While Regulus can understand why this is endearing, part of his charm and the ticket — at least one of them — to making the people like him, it is also a weakness.  

Regulus licks his lips. He’s thought a lot about this, maybe too much. “Because kings in the past have rarely enjoyed having their brother in the court, waiting to step in at any given chance. And we do not particularly like each other.”

“I like you,” Sirius begins and Regulus doesn’t believe him. “And who says I’m going to be anything like those paranoid old men?” Sirius goes on, his eyes a little sharper then. 

Regulus knows that Sirius has never wanted to be like the line of men they are descendents of. It is a touchy subject for him and Regulus is in deep waters. 

Is he prepared to drown?

“Sirius,” is all that he says in return, the name choked out and he sounds pathetic. 

“Regulus,” Sirius returns, his eyebrows twitching. “I do not want you to go away. You will be my closest advisor. No one knows what this is like better than you do. Besides myself, of course.”

Regulus snorts then, despite himself. Sirius lifts an eyebrow. At least he sees a bit of their old relationship, before Orion died, before these last few years even. It’s welcome, although this conversation has not turned out to be the most comfortable one. Yet again, it’s just like everything else that has happened today.

“That’s sad, really. You must have noticed how mother has been plotting for years for me to dethrone you,” Regulus says then, eyes sharp too, but with anticipation. 

Satisfaction, from making Sirius see his case, see that he’s right. He waits to see if Sirius takes the bait. Because this is what it’s been like, for the last few years; their relationship consists of nothing but sharp jabs at each other, constantly testing where the limit is. 

“Of course,” Sirius responds and Regulus deflates a little. “She’s good, but I know all of you.”

Regulus just stares at Sirius again, while Sirius shakes his head to himself, scoffing disappointedly. A twinge of guilt twists Regulus’s stomach; their mother’s behaviour isn’t his fault but it is mean to rub it in his brother’s face. 

“Still?” he asks, because although he knows he doesn’t want to believe it. 

Regulus just hums. 

Sirius is used to this by now, but it stings a little, deep in his chest. Good to know that he still has a heart. He intends to keep it. He has to start guarding it more carefully from now on though, if he wants to succeed. Maybe even from his brother, although he doesn’t want to have to do that. 

“Well,” he sighs, before pausing for a moment, searching Regulus’s face for something. “I can trust you to not trust her, right?”

“Of course,” Regulus says, but there is a twinge of doubt somewhere in his core. Underneath all the layers. He wants to stay, very much, so he doesn’t betray this to Sirius. It’s not like it’s going to happen. 

Sirius has always been his first priority in this family, despite how bad things have been between them. It is sad, but it’s true. The doubt is only present because Regulus has never really trusted himself. Yet again, he trusts himself more than anyone else. Except for Sirius, of course. Still, after all of this. He isn’t particularly fond of his brother anymore, but he does trust him, in some strange, fundamental way, at least when it comes to this, leading the country. 

Sirius gets up from his throne then, pushing off the broad armrests, and Regulus watches him. The crown surely looks heavy on his head as he climbs down the steps of the platform, closing the distance between them. 

Regulus bows his head down once more. Sirius stops in front of him, and places a hand on his shoulder, relaxing his arm so that his brother can really feel the weight of it. 

Regulus looks up again and Sirius pulls him into a hug. It is the first one in who knows how long. Years, he realises with a start.

He bows his own head down and places his chin on his brother’s shoulder. Sirius was always the taller one. Blinking, he lets himself be held. Regulus hasn’t even—no one has even touched him in a long time. He does not dare to count the many, many days. Suddenly, he feels exhausted. 

“I can trust you, right? Because it’s me and you now,” Sirius says. 

Regulus nods into Sirius’s long hair. “I will always have your back. You’ll always have me.”

It’s true. They don’t get along, but Regulus will always protect Sirius. He was taught to, and he truly believes that his brother is the best thing that has happened to this kingdom and its people in decades. For them, Regulus will remain a part of the king’s court, guarding him, as long as Sirius lets him. And for now, Sirius wants him to stay. Regulus will thank the gods for that later. 

When they finally part, Sirius almost looks a little emotional, and resorts to a voiceless nod. Regulus nods too, holding Sirius’s gaze with his own, before he slowly turns around, beginning to walk out of the room.

“Regulus?” Sirius speaks up, and Regulus halts, only a handful of steps down the long hall. 

Regulus turns around again, clasping his hands behind his back again. “Yes?”

“You chased after the man that killed our father.” It’s more of a statement than a question. Sirius saw him, after all. 

Regulus gives a miniscule shake of his head. “I chased after the man that could kill you.”

Sirius huffs another small smile, despite himself. The knots in his stomach twists then. “Not fond of our father?” 

“Oh, I’m quite happy that he’s gone, between me and you.” It is a bold statement. If Sirius was more like Orion himself, he might’ve had Regulus’s head for that.

But Sirius just snorts softly, nodding. Because he isn’t much like Orion, even though he is slightly more forgiving than Regulus. Regulus, who he loves far more than said father.

Regulus who was never treated like anything else than Sirius’s spare by their father. Who was the scapegoat of choice to Orion. Sirius has always had this uncomfortable feeling that he doesn’t see everything but when asking either Orion or Regulus, neither of them would tell him anything. 

He supposes that he can still find out, although only Regulus’s side of the story. Which makes him infinitely more grateful that it is his brother standing before him, alive and well, and not his father. Because he doesn’t want to hear only his father’s side. He has always been scared of opening that door, and now it is closed forever. 

The relief in Regulus’s eyes is deep and true, and Sirius’s throat tightens. 

“You know that I always used to say that you would be a far better king,” Regulus says then, looking straight at Sirius now, silver gaze unwavering. They do have the most piercing eyes, the two of them. Despite sharing the same orbs, Sirius feels studied to his core by his brother.

“You did,” he agrees, solemnly. It was a long time since Regulus said that though. “I wish we were still close. Why did you pull away?”

Regulus looks down then, staring at the grey stone floor, centuries old. Sirius can see his jaw tensing with the way the muscles move underneath his skin. “There are many reasons… but I didn’t go away, did I? I just gave you some space.”

“Giving me some space makes it sound like it was something I wanted and needed,” Sirius replies. His tone is calm; he is trying to be older and wiser and a better king than Orion already. 

Even if this is just his brother, his family. He might as well start there. Sirius is quite sure that it has started here, within their home, for decades. And while this may be the reason why Orion was the way he was, Sirius isn’t planning to do the same to Regulus, to his future children. 

“You found others,” Regulus says, quieter than he was before. He unravels his hands behind his back, bringing them forward, flexing them. It is clearly a touchy subject. Perhaps Sirius is cruel for using the crown on his head, the events of the day, to make Regulus talk about this. His stupid, dutiful brother. But he really wants to know. And one day, sooner or later, they have to talk about this, at last. “You were content with people more similar to you. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to be with me. I wanted to be independent and not live in your shadow. This is why I shouldn’t be your closest advisor. There are others for that. James, for example.”

Sirius suspected as much, of course. He was there, for all the fights they had, an active combatant. He just wants Regulus to admit it, to say it out loud. He wants them to be able to talk about this. 

Because, while they aren’t on good terms, Sirius really needs Regulus on his side now. Of course, Regulus has already confirmed that he will, but he wants them to be close again, too. 

“You and James are not the same,” Sirius says, simply. 

Regulus remains quiet.

“What else?” Sirius asks because while these are valid reasons, Sirius knows Regulus and he can tell that there is something else.

“Mother and father wanted me to stay away,” he finally confesses and Sirius groans, reaching up to touch his forehead, rubbing it. “For different reasons.”

“Of course,” he mutters, his gaze latching onto the city outside the windows, the sun setting behind the mountains. 

Orion always thought Regulus to be weak. Their mother, Walburga, the queen, always preferred him to Sirius. Both of them thought their sons were corrupting the other.

“They’re not going to do that anymore,” Sirius says then, confidently, straying closer to Regulus again, turning his eyes back to him.

When they were younger, Regulus always followed Sirius. Then he stopped, and it was Sirius’s turn to try to close the distance. Now, Regulus is meant to follow Sirius, but again and again it’s still Sirius who makes sure they’re still close. Or trying to, at least.

Sirius isn’t worried that Regulus will try to take his throne. He is sure that Regulus does not want to be king. But he is worried that Regulus might disappear, even though he thinks he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t have to leave the kingdom to go away. He is worried that Regulus is only doing this because he’s too loyal, not because he wants to. 

“Okay,” Regulus says, nodding once. “Sirius?”

“Yes?”

“That man,” he begins, taking a step forward, the first one of today, besides walking into the throne room to begin with. “James had the guards kill him.”

Sirius nods. He was going to ask James what happened when they were out of his sight later. “As he should.”

Regulus nods stiffly, clearly not happy. 

“It’s what the guards were supposed to do,” Sirius continues, frowning a little. 

“Yes, but I didn’t get any time to talk to him,” Regulus grumbles.

“What would you have liked to say to him?” Sirius questions.

He tries to imagine Regulus cursing him for killing their father before letting him die but it doesn’t fit . 

“I would have liked to ask him about his motives,” Regulus explains, shifting on his feet. “Why? Did he act alone? What if this was a conspiracy, Sirius?”

Sirius swallows. He has pushed that worry to the far back of his mind for now, just trying to get through the day. But seeing Regulus so concerned has fear clawing at his heart. He nods slowly.

“I understand your worry,” he says then. “I’ll give you whatever resources you need to try to find out.”

Regulus nods slowly, heaving a breath. “Okay. That sounds wise. I’ll give it everything I’ve got.”

“Thank you,” Sirius says. “Let me know if there is any way that I can help, or if you need anything.”

“I will.” Regulus replies and bows. 

“Please don’t.”

There’s a small smile tugging on the corners of Regulus’s lips as he straightens up, before turning around and finally leaves. 

Sirius sighs once he’s gone, walking back to his throne, exhausting washing over his body. His father getting killed, and a long awaited, tense conversation with his brother. While one of them is objectively worse, the other isn’t far behind. 

“How was your day?” comes a long-lost voice and Sirius smiles when he sees that James has replaced Regulus in the doorway. 

“Horrible,” Sirius replies, as he waits for James to walk up to him. It started out with a murder in broad daylight, after all, right after breakfast.

When the other young man, his peer, reaches him he places a hand on Sirius’s back, rubbing it gently.

“Well, you did great,” James replies, smiling easily. “It will get better.”

“I can’t believe my father was murdered today. In front of everyone,” Sirius says then, eyes stuck on the floor. “I almost thought that he couldn’t die. And if it did, it wouldn’t be in such a humiliating way.”

“I’m sorry,” James answers, wrapping his arm around his back now. “The murderer has paid for his crime, at least.”

“I heard,” Sirius hums. 

“Regulus?”

“Yes.”

“It’ll be fine, my king.”

Sirius gives James a glare, and James only laughs.