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Chapter Text

Regulus is six years old and he’s shaking his brother awake. 

“Sirius,” he whispers in his ear. “Wake up.” His tone is excited and far too energetic for the middle of the night. 

Sirius hides his face in his pillow and grumbles into it. “Go back to sleep, Regulus.” Sirius knows what Regulus wants. It’s not the first time he has woken him up like this.

“But-,” he shakes Sirius again. The groan he gets in response is a warning for the following act of getting pushed off the bed. Regulus lands on his side and he lets out a short noise of surprise. Quickly sitting back up, he tries to think about what he could say to convince Sirius to play with him. His admittedly tiny legs are outstretched and his feet are wiggling as he bites his lip with a thoughtful expression. An idea forms and he shoots up on his feet again, not jumping into Sirius’ bed immediately and instead looking over the edge of the stupidly tall beds. Sirius had turned over while pushing Regulus off and is clearly not asleep, but is refusing to open his eyes. 

Regulus holds on tight to the bed. His eyes are barely visible as he asks, “Do you want to build a snowman?” He drags the vowels out on the last word, knowing it is the one that will catch Sirius’ attention. He was right, of course, so he giggles when Sirius opens a single eye to look at him. A smile stretches across his face and soon they’re running down the many stairs of the castle, hand in hand. 

“Okay, okay,” Sirius checks to see if any of the workers in the castle have noticed what they are doing before he closes the door to the grand ballroom. He laughs lightly at his younger brother’s excited behavior. “We have to be quick, Mother and Father could be home any minute.” He warns Regulus which earns a quick disappointed look that is abruptly overtaken by eagerness once more. 

“Do the magic!” Regulus is tilting back and forth from his toes to his heels. The winter boots he had thrown on hurriedly making light tapping noises with each move. 

Sirius does exactly that and begins swirling his hands together in a ball-like motion. Snowflakes and flows of blue energy circle around till a snowball starts to appear in the middle. “Ready?” he asks playfully. Regulus nods rapidly, his eyes wide and his face filled with admiration and fascination. Sirius does one last swivel with his hands around the growing ball before throwing it to the top of the ceiling. It exploded in a flurry of snowflakes that were now continuously falling from seemingly nowhere. The snow seemed to be shining like glitter landing on perfectly polished floors. Regulus jumps up and down with such a big smile that Sirius thinks it would be worth it if they were caught. He runs around in a little circle, then stops when Sirius starts talking to him again. 

“Watch this.” Sirius smiles with an eagerness to show his brother. He slams the foot he had lifted onto the floor and from it comes a thin layer of ice spreading fast across it. Regulus slips slightly and almost falls on his face when the ice gets under his feet. 

“Whoa,” he said, awe clear in his voice. 

Then, Sirius while laughing, took hold of his hands and they started skating around as best as they could with no skates. It was their own little dance. Sirius had just started ballroom dancing lessons, but he much preferred this. At least that’s what he told Regulus, and Regulus fully believed that. Sirius was never really one for proper manners and everything their parents said was important for royals. 

Regulus looks curiously at his older brother as he creates piles of snow on top of the ice. Regulus starts forming a snowball in his hands, and Sirius does the same. They add more and more snow. More and more until it starts to take shape. Two balls of snow act as the feet, a large ball sitting on them, supported only by Sirius’ magic. A smaller but still big snowball on that again, before putting on the uneven head of the snowman. 

Regulus gasps the way he does when he thinks something is brilliant. “It’s a snowrat!” he exclaims in delight. 

Sirius is on board with that idea and makes some more defined rat-like features while Regulus runs to find some pieces of coal to use as buttons. Placing them gently on the snow, Regulus feels happy. When Sirius got his powers it was a gift. A wonderful, extraordinary gift, and Regulus doesn’t think he has ever had more fun in his entire life. 

After finding two sticks, Sirius pushes one in on each side of the middle snowball and then walks behind it to puppeteer it. “Hi, I’m Peter, and I want to experience the magical joy of friendship!” he says in a silly voice.

“I’ll be your friend, Peter!” Regulus hugs the snow, feeling it burn where it meets the skin. He doesn’t care. Everyone deserves to feel warmth. 

They play a game of catch next. They used to play parkour on the snow hills Sirius made, but he stopped wanting to do that after Regulus fell down and bruised his knee. 

Sirius throws snowballs for his little brother to catch. He aims them in different places around Regulus to make it more challenging for him, but he purposefully throws them so he knows Regulus can catch them just to see the smile on his face when he manages to do it. 

They start carefully but it’s not the first time that they have done this, which is why it quickly escalates. The snowballs come flying faster. Regulus fumbles with catching one, his body tipping slightly out of balance. 

“Careful,” Sirius warns. He shifts his weight to the front of his feet and his hand twitches to reach out. 

”Come on, come on,” Regulus urges, too deep in the feeling of fun to consider all the things that might go wrong. He waves at Sirius to convince him to throw the next snowball. “I’ll catch it, don’t worry.” 

Sirius throws it.

By some bad stroke of luck, Regulus slips on the ice. Acting on reflex, Sirius reaches out, wanting to protect him from the fall and the incoming snowball. His magic, having a mind of its own, shoots out of his outstretched hand. 

It hits Regulus’ head. He lets out a yelp of pain as he falls to the ground, the ice beneath him cracking. His head smashes hard against the ice, increasing the pain tenfold.

It stings. It feels sharp, like a stab to his head. It hurts. Regulus feels cold. He’s shivering. The cold is inside him . It’s in his bones. It’s burrowing under his skin. Ice cold. His body aches where he lies on the ice. He feels unable to move. The pain and the cold are a gruesome match, fighting to take control over Regulus’ body. Involuntary, a sob rips out of his chest almost violently. That seems to make Sirius realize what has happened and spur into action.

“Regulus!” Sirius shrieks and runs over as he can. He takes hold of Regulus’ limp and trembling body, cradling him like he might break. Sharp and fast, ice starts covering the walls. It spreads out from the only two warm things in the room. It’s infectious and out of Sirius’ control. “Reggie..” Sirius whispers, sounding broken. 

“Sirius,” Regulus whispers back. “It hurts.” 

Sirius winces, then his eyes well up with tears, not yet falling. “I’m sorry, Reggie. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to..” Sirius babbles almost incoherently, the tears threatening to pour down his cheeks. 

Regulus does not like that. He doesn’t want it. He can’t be the reason Sirius cries. “It’s okay,” he says, even though it’s not. The ice still feels like it’s eating him, taking over and consuming him. It hurts and Regulus doesn’t know what to do. There is not much noise inside the ballroom, but even so, it’s too loud for the pain in his head. He desperately wants to raise his hands so clutch his head, except he can't because the pain is paralyzing him. It’s agonizing and overwhelming. It’s terrifying. He’s in the worst pain he has ever felt, and that scares him. He stares into Sirius’ watering eyes. He needs his brother. “Don’t cry please,” he mumbles. It’s taking a lot of effort to talk and look at Sirius. His words make his brother break down. The tears fall and to Regulus it seems like they will never stop. That isn’t what he wanted. He was trying to make Sirius not cry. Sirius clutching his body, still gingerly, his arms cling to him desperately with tears now falling carelessly. 

Suddenly, the doors slam open. The noise is loud, cutting through the air with anger. Their parents are standing there not moving, their bodies stiff from shock. Regulus can’t really see them, his eyes unfocused and his head limp in Sirius’ hold. 

Walburga stares in silence until her face screws up in an angry expression. “What have you done?” Her voice bellows through the air, echoing in the large room. She moves with quick, large steps over the floor to Sirius and Regulus. Regulus decides it’s best for him not to talk at that moment. 

“I’m sorry,” Sirius cries loudly. “I didn’t mean to do it! It was an accident! Please,” he pleads to her. Orion stands behind her with a stern look on his face that, while Regulus isn’t completely conscious, tells him that things are going to change from now on. 

Sirius glides his hand softly over Regulus' hair in a comforting motion. He can feel wet drops hit his skin, and it feels like it’s burning. Regulus can tell his mind is slipping away from him. He’s tired and in pain. He doesn’t really want to give in when his brother is in distress. But he’s so tired and it hurts too much. He can’t hold on any longer. Regulus lets go and falls away from consciousness.

-

Regulus is seven years old and he’s knocking on his brother’s door. He doesn’t understand why Sirius isn’t coming out. It’s been weeks, maybe months. Nothing like this has ever happened before. Regulus doesn’t understand. “Do you want to build a snowrat?” There’s no answer so he keeps talking. “I haven’t seen you in soooo looong!” Regulus exclaimed as he dragged out the vowels on the last two words for dramatic effect. He drapes his body across the door, falling slowly down it. “Can’t you just come out the door?” Regulus asks with his face now on the floor as he tries to look in the crack.  “We used to play all the time but now you won’t even see me. I wish you would tell me why.” He pouts. He’s thought a lot about it and no explanation he has come up with makes any sense. If Sirius just talked to him, maybe he could understand then. Regulus doesn’t want to give up on him. Standing up, he tries again. “Do you want to build a snowrat?” They had done that the last time Regulus saw him. They went outside in the middle of the night, made a snowrat, threw snowballs at each other, and slid on some frozen puddles. Then Regulus is pretty sure he fell asleep and got carried inside because he doesn’t remember anything after that. All he knows is that from that day on everything changed. Regulus doesn’t know why but they closed the gate. His parents got stricter and meaner. They wanted him to be proper now. Sirius hasn’t come out of his room since that night. Maybe if he talks about snow or Peter, then Sirius will listen. “It doesn’t have to be a snowrat. It could be a mouse.” Regulus looks through the keyhole as he excitedly says this full of hope, slightly muffled by his cheek being pressed against the doorframe. He really just wants to see his brother. To play with him, to talk with him, to see him. Why can’t he? Regulus doesn’t understand. Why is he being shut out? 

“Go away, Regulus!” Sirius shouts through the door. There is a stain in his voice masked by the volume. 

Regulus lights up at hearing his brother’s voice. Then the words register and it feels like he has been hit. Bloody, bruised, and not wanting to argue with Sirius, he says with sadness clear in his voice, “Okay, bye.” And walks away with his head hung. Still no explanation, still alone and still loving Sirius despite it. 

-

Regulus is ten and he’s knocking on his brother’s door. “Sirius?” His voice is quiet and unsure. “Do you want to build a snowrat?” He tries, hopeful and still nervous. The hope he had disappeared instantly when almost a minute went by without any response. “Or maybe we could ride our bike around in the halls?” Regulus is sure he sounds desperate. He’s leaning against the door trying to  “Or- or we could take something from the kitchen? Kreacher would be mad at us, but… maybe it would be fun?” he trails off, not knowing what to say to Sirius. There’s a long pause before he starts again. Weakly, he says, “It gets lonely out here without you. Mother says I need to leave you be.” Regulus pauses again, then admits, “I don’t want to do that.” Gaining more energy from the excitement of defiance, he stands up straight. “I’m going to give you updates. And tell you about every little thing I can.” Regulus is determined. It’s a great idea! This will work, this will fix things. He’s sure of it. “I’ll talk to you. Even if you won’t talk to me. Maybe then we’ll both feel less lonely.” Regulus listens closely for any kind of noise from inside the room. There’s nothing. Regulus feels his mood dim a little, but he continues talking to a piece of wood that is making more noise than Sirius. “Okay, well. Um. I’ll talk to you tomorrow? Yeah. Yes. I’ll do that.” There’s only so long one can talk to someone who isn’t responding before one starts to feel insecure. “Bye,” he starts to wave at the door and quickly stops himself, slapping the palm of his hand against his forehead as he walks away. 

-

Regulus is twelve years old and he’s knocking on his brother’s door. He does this once a week now. When he first started talking to Sirius through the door he did that almost every single day for hours at a time. However, not having Sirius answer felt devastating. Horrible, really. Regulus couldn't just stop though. It felt like a promise, and he didn’t want to break it. No matter how alone Regulus might feel, he doesn’t want Sirius to feel the same way. “Sirius?” On the other side, there’s a small sound of wood creaking. Regulus lights up at the noise. “Um, I brought you some krumkaker. Kreacher says you really like them and you’re probably going to eat some today anyway, but,” He sets the plate in front of the door, keeping his eyes on it and not looking up again, as if Sirius is standing right there and looking at him for the first time in years. Regulus wonders what he looks like now. “I wasn’t going to eat all of mine…So. Um, here you go.” Regulus’ voice is weaker than he wants it to be. Even when he’s forcing it to be strong, it’s not enough. “I don’t really have much to tell you this week,” he admits. “I practiced a lot of hours on the cello. I told you when I started two weeks ago, right? I’m getting better! It’s different from the violin, but I like it. Piano is still my favorite though.” This is easy to talk about. This he can do. Regulus likes the escape of learning. Books and instruments and whatever else he can get his hands on. There’s not much else to do with his time. “I don’t know if you remember the big wooden clock in the drawing room, but I’ve spent a lot of time staring at it, and I was wondering where the chip came from.” Regulus suddenly remembers sitting and watching the time passing by and studying the beautiful clock. “Oh, you probably don’t know. Sorry, there is a small chunk of wood missing on the right side near the top of it. I asked the staff and none of them knew anything.” Regulus had gone to every corner of the castle and questioned almost everyone. He had started an investigation because he was so invested in finding the answer. He’s going to try his best to figure it out. He wants to share these things with Sirius. He might not answer and he might not care, but he did back when they were small. When they were kids they would talk for hours about absolutely nothing just to talk. Back then Sirius wanted to hear every little detail. He might not care anymore, but on the off-chance that he does, Regulus will keep doing it. “Anyway, it’s not important, it has just been on my mind a lot.” Regulus fidgets with his hands. “I’m gonna go now I think.” He resists the urge to wave at the door like he always does. “Uh, bye Sirius.” As he walks away Regulus holds on to the Sirius of his childhood, because if he doesn’t then he has nothing else except a door. And that’s not enough for him. Regulus still loves the Sirius he had back then. 

-

Regulus is fourteen years old and he’s knocking on his brother’s door. It’s Friday. “Hi, Sirius. Today the tutor got mad at me, can you believe it?” Silence. “Oh, what did I do? Well, I’m glad you asked, dear brother. I kept correcting him because he was wrong. Then he got angry, he looked half a second away from smashing his chair over my head. Honestly, I don’t know what he expected spreading false information like that.” Regulus shakes his head in mock disappointment. “Anyway. I ate porridge for breakfast, finished one book and started another, and then, you know, the tutor…” Sirius doesn’t need him to repeat himself, so he moves on. “I actually should be eating, lunch passed two hours ago.” His stomach grumbled a bit at the mention of lunch. Before he could bring himself to say goodbye, he remembered what he was going to tell Sirius. “Oh, yesterday Slughorn fell down the stairs. Have you met him yet? He’s on the council so you should know him. Either way, he fell down the big staircase. I got in a little bit of trouble for laughing, but you can’t really blame me. If you had seen it happen I’m sure you would have done the same thing. It was hilarious.” He chuckles at the memory, his shoulders shaking. He sobers suddenly. “I wish the gates were open. Or at least that there were more people in the castle. The staff don’t have time to actually talk to me. And even the pictures on the wall give me more attention than you. I can imagine them talking back anyway. I don’t know you anymore, I have no idea what you would say.” He purses his lips and shakes his head. “So stupid ,” he whispers to himself. Regulus didn’t mean to pull the mood down. He was having a good time, getting as close as he can to joking with his brother. He got up on his feet from his sitting position on the floor, turning to look at the door as he says, “Okay. Bye, Sirius.” And walks away to find himself late lunch. 

-

Regulus is fifteen years old and he’s knocking on his brother’s door. It's Friday again. “Hi, Sirius.” Regulus waits for a second. When no reply comes, he sits down on the floor with his back to the door. “I don’t know if they have told you yet, but Mother and Father are going on a trip. A long one, probably several months, they said.” He sighs. He doesn’t know what to feel. A part of him is relieved that they will be gone, another will miss the only family he might get a reply from. “They haven’t been on a trip like this since I was a child. I was what? Five or six?” There is no answer from Sirius and he rolls his eyes lightly. Regulus feels a lot of things toward his brother. Right now he is just annoyed. There is silence for a moment as he lets the tension hang in the air. When he speaks, the words come unwillingly with an edge. “It snowed today.” He says it simply. Like it’s a fact. But the undertone in his words tells of hurt. “There was less staff working because some got sick from the cold. The entire castle has been moving so slowly, nothing is working properly. The castle isn’t heated, my breakfast was late, my eyes are blinded every time I look out the windows, and I’ve been freezing all day!” His rant increases in volume as he talks, passion-filled words for the inconveniences of snow. “This is why I hate snow,” he says bitterly with a sharp tongue. The confession feels more personal than he would like to admit. “And ice! And any other type of solid water!” He thinks of Peter. Regulus stands abruptly, feeling uncomfortable with the direction the conversation took. “Bye, Sirius,” he says and walks away. 

Then their parents' ship goes down and Regulus is standing alone at their funeral. 

Sirius didn’t come. How stupid was it of Regulus to think that their parents' death could get him out of his room? That it could get him to actually talk to Regulus, instead of just ignoring him when they pass each other in the halls.

Regulus is sixteen and he’s knocking on his brother’s door. He’s angry, tired and sad, and he just wants his brother. “Sirius? Please, I know you’re in there.” It comes out begging. Tears falling down his face, it doesn’t completely register. Whether the tears are from the grief or the loneliness, he doesn’t know. He hasn’t yet changed out of the clothes he wore at the funeral. He went straight to his brother. Even after all these years Regulus still goes to Sirius when he needs something. Right now he needs the only other remaining family member he has. “Everyone is asking about where you are. They’re telling me to have courage. And I’m trying to, I really am. But.” He chokes on a sob. “Sirius. I’m right here. Just let me in.” Regulus leans his forehead against the door. “Please, Sirius. We only have each other now. It’s just you and me.” The door is ice cold, and Regulus can feel the cold slipping through the crack under the door. It feels familiar. It feels haunting. He wants to succumb to it. The cold, the grief. Everything he feels is too much and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. “What are we going to do?” Regulus’ voice cracks on the last word, a loud sob ripping out of his chest. He slides down the door, curling up into a ball. He can feel the warmth of his tears slipping down his face, landing softly on his hands grasping the clothes on his chest. In his head, Sirius is sitting on the other side of the door, and strangely that mental image helps calm him down. The sobs quiet down, tears still falling in a steady stream and the only thing he feels is numb. Regulus still has no explanations, he is still alone, and he still loves Sirius despite it all. At least the Sirius he had when he was a child. 

Chapter Text

Today is the day. It’s finally here. 

Regulus stares into the mirror at himself. He’s dressed in a new bunad he has never worn before. His jacket and pants are made from thin wool , which is lucky for him because most bunads are of thick wool, and that would not go over well for him during the summer. Arendelle summer, but still summer. A beautiful dark green woven silk vest with a floral pattern lays neatly on top of a white linen shirt. The silver buttons on his vest and jacket have been engraved with the crest of Arendelle. Regulus isn’t the biggest fan of the bunad stockings, but he’s wearing them anyway. The outfit is completed with bunad shoes, black leather shoes with a big silver embossed buckle. His hair is laying neatly, having been styled by his maid only a few minutes ago. The white steak on the right side of his hair has been hidden as best as they could manage. It goes from the end of his bangs to over his ears. It might look like a ribbon or something similar if one didn’t look too closely. Regulus has lived with it since birth, he’s not ashamed of it. Still, he decided it was best not to stand out more than he has to. 

This is Sirius’ day anyway. He is getting crowned. He is going to be king. 

And the gates will be open. For one day, the gates will be open. Regulus has one day to be free. One day. He is going to make use of it. Because for the first time in what feels like forever, he could be noticed by someone. He’ll be able to talk to people. And they’ll respond. People will want to talk to him. 

The thought is daunting. Scary, if he is honest. Regulus is unsure if he will be able to handle it. It’s something completely different. New. But Regulus has lived so many days the same, so maybe change is good. 

The mirror reflects a nervous face back at him. He feels what he thinks the books mean by butterflies in his stomach. There seems to be an obscene amount of them swirling around in there, and honestly, it’s making him want to throw up. However, there’s no time for that. Regulus turns his face into something mildly excited, takes a deep breath, and opens the door. 

The staff are bustling around in the hallways. He nearly crashes into three separate people, two of them holding stacks of plates that almost toppled. He’s vaguely aware of a pair of guards following him, but he ignores them. The courtyard has never looked more beautiful than in this moment when he can see through the gates. They’re wide open and Regulus can walk through them. So that’s what he does. There are a surprising number of people on the bridge leading to the town from where the castle sits on the fjord. He weaves his way through them, the sun shining brightly on his face. He’s sure that he must look like a crazy person, staring around at everything like he’s never seen it before.  

The change in perspective is nice. It’s been a long time since he actually walked here and wasn’t just staring out the caste windows or climbing up the garden walls. 

The town square is beautiful. Every building is unique, wooden and colorful. The flag of Arendelle hangs from every lamppost and along each building. It smells like summer and baked goods. The smell reminds him of the kitchen back at the castle when Kreacher would allow him to help with the baking. Regulus’ shoes on the cobblestone lining the streets makes his steps sound louder. Around him people are laughing and talking. Regulus smiles. The atmosphere is nothing like the castle. 

He wanders through stalls of flowers picked from Arendelle’s green fields. At this time of year the whole kingdom is in bloom. Everything is vibrant and green, contrasting beautifully with the gorgeous blues of the fjord. 

Regulus walks down a set of stone stairs to walk along the wooden docks. From here he can clearly see the grand ships scattered across the fjord around the castle. 

Too lost in his thoughts, Regulus crashes into something hard and falls to the ground. A breath is punched out of him. He walked into someone, as is evident when he looks up at them. Still, he is pretty sure it was his fault, so he says in a frantic tone, “Oh, I’m so sorry-”

Regulus gets cut off. “No no, I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking at where I was going.” The man offers a hand. Regulus takes it and stands up.

“Well, I didn’t either,” he counters. It sounds stubborn, he knows, and that’s not how he should talk to someone he is trying to apologize to. Regulus looks down at his clothes, fixing anything that might have been shaken out of place during the fall. 

But the man takes it in stride and simply nods. “Fair enough. Guess we’re even then.” Regulus looks up to meet his eyes and is met with a barely noticeable gasp. “Regulus?” he asks. He honestly looks like he’s seen a ghost. And Regulus knows he may be pale but he didn’t think it was that bad.

Regulus blinks. He doesn’t recognize this person, but they know him. The man is tall. Extremely so. Probably why Regulus fell in the crash and he didn’t. He’s wearing a white bunad jacket with spring green pants and vest as opposed to Regulus’ black and dark green. He has brown hair and green eyes that Regulus can’t help but admire. His face is slim and his features are sharp. It doesn’t look like his hair has been styled, more like he just lets it fall how it wants. But Regulus doesn’t recognize him. In fact, he is pretty certain that he has never seen this man before in his life. “Yes?” he asks slowly. “That is my name,” he adds quite unnecessarily. 

The man standing in front of him seems to have another wave of recognition come over him, this time understanding what is happening. “You don’t recognize me, do you?” It comes tentatively but not shyly. 

“No, I don’t.” When would Regulus have met him? The gates have been closed since he was six. Regulus looks at him questioningly, pursing his lips slightly. “Sorry, should I?”

“Well, I suppose that we’ve both grown a lot since then. It’s not that strange that you wouldn’t know it’s me.” 

That really did not answer his question. “So… who are you?” he asks, mildly exasperated. This man is really dragging it out. 

“Oh, right, I’m sorry.” He looks like he just realized how bad his manners have been. Finally, he reaches a hand out to Regulus to introduce himself. “Remus, prince of the Southern Isles.” 

“Remus?” Regulus can’t believe what he’s hearing. Apparently, he does know this man. During his epiphany he completely forgets to return Remus’ handshake. “My apologies, I didn’t realize who you were.” Regulus is a little out of it and suddenly remembers how handshakes work. He leans forward to grasp Remus’ hand that’s already lowered back to his side. Remus looks baffled but doesn’t resist. “I didn’t think I would see you again, let alone today.”

“When my father received an invitation to today’s events, I offered to take his place, hoping to see you.” Remus explained. Then he looks down at his feet as he scuffles them with a bashful expression. “Both of you,” he says, meeting his eyes again. 

Regulus tilts his head, intrigued as to what would cause such a reaction. 

“Your brother.” Taking his silence as confusion, Remus clarifies. He glances towards the castle. “How has he been?” 

“I wouldn’t know,” Regulus admits with forced casualness. “I have barely talked to him since it happened.”

“Oh,” Remus’ eyebrows furrow like that response wasn’t what he was expecting. “I’m sorry.”

Regulus shrugs, and brushes off the sympathy to avoid overthinking it. He clears his throat and swallows lightly. “Spring has really sprung out this year, hasn’t it?” 

Remus’ face can only be described as befuddled. “It’s not even-”

“Your Highness,” one of the guards that Regulus had been ignoring for a solid thirty minutes interrupted the conversation. “We need to get you to the church.” As if on cue, the church bells ring.

“Right, fine,” Regulus glaces at the guard, then turns back to Remus. “I have to go,” he says regrettably, and then continues with a hint of enthusiasm.  “But we can talk more properly during the ball.” 

“Right, yeah,” Remus says, snapping back into himself and smiles. “Looking forward to it.” 

Sirius picks up the candlestick and rounded jewelry box. He tries to hold it off for as long as he can, but after only a couple of seconds, frost covers the items quickly. Spikes of ice poke out at intervals, almost cutting through his skin. He sets the items down with a harsh click of the metal on the wooden table. Sirius stares up at the large painting of his father getting crowned. Holding the items with no trouble. Doing the thing that Sirius keeps failing to do. 

He can’t do it. He’ll never be able to do it. Sirius isn’t in control of his powers. He rushes to put his gloves back on, the satin feeling both comforting and constricting. No one knows about what he can do, and no one ever can.

Conceal, don’t feel. 

That’s what his mother used to tell him. When he feels, he can’t control it. Emotions are unpredictable. When he feels, he becomes unpredictable. He needs to hide what he’s feeling until he is in a place where he can't hurt anyone. He needs to be able to control his powers, and concealing his emotions is one step in the right direction. 

Sirius is dangerous. He’s a monster. No one is safe around him. His parents were right to shut him inside. Regulus didn’t deserve it but Sirius did. He still does.  

Regulus used to call his abilities magic. To Sirius, it seems more like a curse. It’s not a wonderful thing that spreads joy, it puts the people he loves in danger. It puts Regulus in danger. 

Regulus, the kid who grew up outside his door. 

As a child, Regulus was shy around most people. Though, he was always curious. Asking questions, persistent like no one else Sirius knew, and quick to look for himself when he got an answer he felt was inadequate. When he and Sirius still shared a room, he loved to ask questions late into the night. Regulus was rarely ever shy towards Sirius. It was something Sirius took very seriously, he liked being Regulus’ safe space. 

Except, Sirius left him on his own with no one to help fend off their parents when they turned meaner. He hid from everything and everyone, including his little brother. And even then, Regulus didn’t give up on him. Continuing to talk to Sirius’ door for thirteen years with barely any response in return. 

So Sirius feels like he still knows Regulus in some way. The fact that he kept coming back showed that the persistent little kid he once knew so well was still here. Him returning, made his words carry more meaning to Sirius. 

Regulus had grown up. Of course he had. So had Sirius. And it hurt. He had missed out on so much of Regulus’ life. Sure, they had a “conversation” once a week but that couldn’t really compare. It was mostly their parents' fault, obviously. Nevertheless, when at age eighteen their parents died, Sirius didn’t try to do anything about it. He didn’t even go to the funeral. He just sat there, frozen in his room. Not by grief, he’s pretty sure. He didn’t care much for his parents toward the end. He was terrified. He hadn’t known what to do. Everything fell onto his shoulders in a matter of seconds when they got the news. All the responsibility was now his. He knew it was coming one day, yet there he was. In over his head. Completely unprepared, even though he had spent his entire life so far preparing for exactly this. Saying he was scared is a shitty excuse but it’s the only explanation he has. So he just sat there, back to the door, tears silently slipping down his face. Listening to his brother sob on the other side, wishing he was brave enough to open it. 

That’s when it really hit him that this was the last thing he wanted. He felt entirely lost. He had a purpose for everyone else, but he didn’t know who he was anymore or who he wanted to be. 

He wishes he could leave it all. But he can’t. Sirius was trained for this. Regulus wasn’t. And if Sirius were to leave then it would be left to Regulus and it wouldn’t be fair to him or the kingdom. He feels responsible for them. His people. His brother. 

Well, Sirius has already left Regulus on his own for so many years, that it probably wouldn’t be too much of a difference if he left physically. But maybe the sense of responsibility never leaves, no matter how long it's been. And he doesn’t want Regulus to carry the burden of a kingdom. 

Along with a council, Sirius has been doing it for years. He knows the weight of it, but he has learned to handle it. He can make decisions. He can rule from inside the castle. He knows how to do that. So he knows how to keep them safe. He can make sure they have everything they need. He can keep them away from himself. Keep Regulus away. 

But he knows he won’t be able to do it forever. He wonders how long it will take before he crumbles. 

The gates are open. He gave the order a few minutes prior. He just needs to get to the church. He just needs to get through the ceremony. And then the dinner. And the ball. 

But he can do it, it’s only for today. One day. After that, everything will go back to normal.

If he makes one wrong move, everyone will know. This is when it matters the most. Don’t let them in, don’t let them see. Conceal, don’t feel.  

One day. Only one day. 

With that final thought, he walks out the door and with several guards, goes to the church.

Everyone is waiting inside when they get there. The choir gets their cue to start singing. The doors open.

Sirius takes the first step first through them. 

Everyone turns to look at him. He steels his expression. He can’t look too unbothered, but he can’t look too excited. Sirius needs to look like a king. Because that’s who he will be. From now on he will be king. A lump sits tightly in his throat.  

Conceal, don’t feel. It plays like a mantra inside his head. This is not the time or place to lose control. Just focus on getting this done and then the hard part is over. Focus on who he is doing this for. 

He feels trapped, now more than ever. It feels like he is walking to a prison sentence. It’s too late to turn around. He has had years to make his decision, and now that it’s finally happening, he regrets every choice he has made. There is nothing more he wants in the world in this moment than to run away.  

The choir sounds beautiful, but it hurts. Had it been any other occasion he would have been happy to sit and listen to the heavenly sounds. That’s not possible though. It’s just another reminder of what is happening. 

There are so many eyes on him. Everyone is looking. He doesn’t know what to do with the attention. He has never had this many people care about what he does before. At least not in front of him. It makes his head feel like it’s spinning. His steps are shaky. He has to subtly take a breath and concentrate on not tripping. 

Regulus is standing up there. The weight of his eyes burn the most. Sirius can see the ghost of a smile on his face but he doesn’t dare to meet his eyes. 

He comes to a stop in front of the bishop. The choir is finishing their hymn. The bishop turns around to grab something from behind him and returns with a crown in his hands. The crown. 

It’s beautiful. Sirius has to admit. It’s made of gold and if Sirius is being honest, it may be too big for his head. It has a blue velvet cap embroidered with gilded silver thread. Eight spikes with pearls from Arendelle’s freshwater on the end. The crown ring, the spikes and the ornaments in between are decked with flowers and leaves of pressed gold. The entire crown has perfectly placed beautiful green and purple gemstones. Sirius hates it. 

Sirius leans forward. The bishop places it carefully on top of his head. It’s heavy, but the only thing Sirius can do is to get used to it. This will be his life now. He stands with his back straight and his head high, trying to get used to his duty. 

The bishop brings a pillow with a scepter and an orb laying precisely on it. The same ones that his father once held. Sirius reaches out to take them, but the bishop interrupts, clearing his throat. His eyes motion to the gloves. “Your Majesty, the gloves.” He whispers. Sirius gives a small nod and moves to take his gloves off. He lays them down on the pillow. The air feels tight on his hands. They’re shaking slightly. Sirius takes a deep breath. His hands touch the gold. The countdown started the moment he did. 

Sirius turns around, not sure if he’s able to hide his fear. Everyone stands up. The bishop says a chanting prayer. A crack slips through. Frost spreads across the items, Sirius looks at them, trying to stay calm so it won't accelerate. His shoulders raise with his breath. He hopes it isn’t visible how much he’s shaking. 

The moment the bishop says, “King Sirius of Arendelle,” Sirius turns around to set the items down on the pillow again, hurriedly putting his gloves back on. He turns to face the crowd once more, this time feeling slightly less like he’s about to shit his pants. Regulus has a smile on his face. Sirius avoids meeting his eyes, instead looking straight ahead at the doors. 

He did it. He actually did it. 

Everyone is smiling. They're happy for him. 

Sirius doesn’t feel happy. He feels like he can’t breathe.

But he did it. 

Sirius is king now.