Chapter Text
The further he ran, the thicker the mud became. Rain pounded so violently into his skull that eventually, the whispers of reassurance he’d been repeating to himself were drowned out into nothing. All that was left was the numbness of his fingertips and the squelching of his sopping robes against the mud floor. If it weren’t for the storm, he’d have reached the end of the forest by now. But of course, fate had never been too fond of Sirius Black – so he was left to crawl his way through the barricade of sinkholes and thorned bushes.
His eyes began to flutter after another hour of stumbling through the terrain. Or it could have been just a few minutes – time had become garbled as his thoughts muddied with the surroundings. Through shallow, shaky breaths, he clung desperately onto what little consciousness he had left. He absolutely refused to die now – not when he was so close to freedom. Not when the Black castle was so far behind him.
Keep going. Was all he could muster.
“...look behind the– Jesus Christ!”
Sirius stopped. Footsteps rushed towards him. He forced himself to crane his neck up to see who it was. A man in armor stood over him, a bewildered look spread across his face. The person he had been talking to, a brunette woman in similar attire, quickly followed. When she looked down at his shaking figure, her eyes widened immediately in realization.
“Hey, isn’t that Sirius Bl–”
And then his eyes fluttered shut.
.
When he came to, crimson curtains surrounded him. A thick pile of blankets covered his body, and he was the warmest he’d been in days. On the outside of his bed, hushed voices spoke in an accent unfamiliar to him, too quiet to make out what they were saying.
“...hello?” he called out, very weakly. This seemed to get the attention of those around him. Immediately, a fair skinned elf with fiery, ginger hair slid her way through the curtains. On her head sat a magnificent golden crown – and just like that, Sirius knew exactly where he was. Even in the muddied state his head was at, he could recognize Euphemia Potter anywhere. The reigning queen of the High Elves, and probably his mother’s least favorite person in the entire world. He was in the Potter’s castle. He’d made it.
She sat down on a stool next to him, and the tears began before she could start to speak. He hadn’t meant for it, but they were ugly. They were ugly, violent sobs that erupted from him as Euphemia wrapped her arms around him. He buried his face into her shoulder, clinging desperately onto the warmth of her body. Gently, she rubbed her hand on his back as his shoulders shook.
“Shh. It’s alright honey, you’re safe now,” she repeated, until he really, truly believed it.
When he had run himself dry, Euphemia carefully sat him back to rest against the bedframe. Sirius hadn’t realized it, but a boy his age had made his way into the red curtains. His hair was finely kept, and a pair of circular glasses sat nicely on the bridge of his nose. He was holding a tray of biscuits and hot tea, eyes wide as he watched Sirius shakily pull away from the queen. If he hadn’t been as tired as he was, Sirius would have been a bit embarrassed. But for now, he ignored the boy.
“Ah, Sirius. This is my son, James,” Euphemia took the tray from him and placed it on his bedside table. “Say hello, James.”
James smiled shyly and waved.
“Now,” the queen continued, turning back to Sirius, “I know you must be very tired, but you must understand that we need to know what’s happened. We were all extremely frightened to find you in such a state, and given our… history with your mother’s kingdom, we’re all very worried. Are you well enough to tell us?” the queen asked.
Sirius nodded, slowly. When he spoke his voice wheezed, barely above a whisper, “I ran away.”
“Alright… Thank you, love. Can you tell us what for?”
“They were hurting me.”
“Who? Your mother?”
He nodded again.
“How were they hurting you, dear?”
Sirius shut his eyes, trying to take a steady breath, “Magic.” Euphemia nodded graciously, letting him sit for a moment before gesturing for him to continue. “She used magic. My mother has always experimented with spellcasting – new ways to punish us, or the guards, or the townspeople. It became sort of an obsession. She started testing her spell on me once I was old enough, but –” his voice caught, but he was determined to keep going “It was never deadly.”
Euphemia reached out for his hand, steadying his twitching.
“She was going to punish a girl from the town,” he continued. “Her name’s Mary. We grew up together – her father’s the head knight, so…” he shook his head, refocusing. “I tried to stop her. Mother’s been experimenting with draconic power – mixing it with things she shouldn’t. Other planes… things like that. I tried telling her it was dangerous, I really tried… but she got angry. She said that if I insisted on meddling, then I could take the curse myself instead.”
James gasped, hand flinging over his mouth, “She cursed you with draconic magic?! From a different plane?! How’d you survive th–”
“James, enough.” Euphemia glared at the boy sternly. Deflated, he sank back into his chair.
“Sorry…” he muttered.
Secretly, Sirius relished in the little spark of satisfaction he got from Jame’s awestruck face. Someone thought his story was impressive – cool, even. It helped take away a bit of the pain, he thought. The searing agony, as if his body was being burned from the inside out, was still excruciatingly fresh in his mind.
“I don’t think it was meant to be that bad. At least, it wasn’t meant to be torture. I don’t know what she was thinking, trying to harness magic that powerful. She didn’t stop, though, when she realized how strong her spell was,” a shallow breath rattled his lungs, “I think she was proud.”
He couldn’t tell if it was Euphemia or James who gasped.
“When it was all over I could hardly move. It all hurt too much. Mary and Reg–” Sirius had forgotten about Regulus. He was still trapped there, locked behind the obsidian gates of their palace.
Don’t worry about me, Sirius. Just run, please run. I promise you I’ll be fine. I’ll find you, just go now before we’re both dead.
Sirius swallowed the memory and persisted.
“They dragged me out and told me to run. I suppose my mother had threatened to curse me a second time, which definitely would have killed me. So the best option was for me to run. Well that’s what they told me, anyway. I don’t think I could’ve formed any thoughts aside from the fear. Mary gave me a potion – just enough to make my legs work long enough for me to get away. And um,” he looked wearily between both Potter’s pitiful expressions, “now I’m here, I suppose.”
The queen composed her face and squeezed his hands, “Oh, love. That must’ve been so scary.”
If he had any tears left to cry, he would’ve melted down right there.
“Mhm.”
“You’re safe now, with us. And I promise you that they’ll never hurt you again as long as you’re here,” she leaned over and kissed his head. “Just rest now, and we’ll get everything sorted out.” And just like that, both Euphemia and her son were gone. All that was left was his blazing red covers and what he now noticed to be the symbol of a lion embroidered onto his blanket. He tried to steady his arms enough to reach out for the tea James had brought him. Whispers rose from outside his bed curtains, beyond the narrowly cracked door.
“Mom, can we keep him?”
“He’s not a dog, James.”
“I know that! But can’t we keep him anyways?”
A new voice appeared, much deeper than the two that were speaking already, “Euphemia. How is he?”
“As good as he can be, given the circumstances.”
“Dad, can we keep–”
“James.”
“Do you suppose the Blacks will come after him? Tensions are high enough as is, and…”
“That’s what I’m worried about. But I’m not sure where else he could go. This is probably the safest place for him and… oh, Fleamont. That boy needs a home.”
.
And so, the esteemed royal family of the Potters gained a second prince. Sirius had half expected to be tossed out their back door and right back into the forest – given the situation between his family’s kingdom and theirs. But Euphemia Potter, with her unrelenting kindness, instead took him in as one of her own, and the rest of the family was quick to follow.
The Potter’s palace was from an entirely different world than the Black’s. Instead of dimly lit hallways and gloomy tapestry of emerald serpents, this castle was entirely filled with light. Golden lace lined almost every curtain, and two magnificent gold statues of lions stood at the front archway. Sirius felt sometimes as if they were guarding him– fending off anyone who dared to steal him away.
Of course, word of the esteemed Black heir’s disappearance became a hot topic across the land. When Queen Walburga had heard the Potters were housing her runaway prince, she took no time in officially declaring war with the high elves. It made no difference really, given how poor the situation between the two elven nations had become. It did, however, give excuses for his mother to send her forces to the border. Forces that could take Sirius back to that cold, lifeless castle. Thus, Sirius’ palace-quarantine began.
He didn’t mind being cooped up in the palace, at first. Euphemia and Fleamont Potter easily loved him as if he were their own, and James was beyond thrilled to finally have a brother. Apparently, he’d been asking for years with no avail. Still, Sirius struggled with the adjustment. It was obvious to anyone that he didn’t fit in at the palace. His skin was far too pale, his hair too long and curled, and his accent much too heavy to really be a member of the Potter’s family. His legs were a problem, too. The doctors told him that his mother’s curse had been psychic, that it was neurological– it garbled up his brain. Whatever connection his brain had to his legs had become muddied, and it was unlikely he’d be able to walk normally again. The potion Mary had given him only worked because of its quick timing – no other spell could be cast to fix him without the risk of his skull exploding. Sirius decided it was a risk he wasn’t particularly keen on taking. Fleamont took it upon himself to help Sirius, and gifted him a delicately carved crutch to assist in his walking. Sirius Orion Black had been engraved in brilliant gold calligraphy on its side. It was the best gift anyone had ever given him.
Sirius had initially shied away from Fleamont Potter. From a political standpoint, he was in a smaller position than his ginger-haired wife. Still, it took much longer for Sirius to feel comfortable around the man. It wasn’t that he was unkind, at all. He was a very stoic man, however, and Sirius was very adamant on not speaking unless spoken to – something his mother had relentlessly drilled into him. But just like his wife and son, Fleamont was blessed with the kindness of a saint, and Sirius eventually came around to loving him just as much as the rest.
James Potter was an easier case. Sirius hadn’t realized it at first, but the brown-skinned boy had inherited only the most dashing traits from both of his parents. To put it simply, he was the perfect staple of a prince – handsome, kind, and extremely patriotic. Sirius wasn’t the only one who’d come to this conclusion. Around the castle, young courtsmaids practically fainted at the sight of him. Sirius teased him relentlessly for this, but James never seemed to take interest in any of the girls. Apparently, he had his heart set on “Lily Evans”, the daughter of a noble from one of Astar’s allied nations. Sometimes, James would drag Sirius down to the fencing yard and force him to watch him flail around a wooden sword as he rambled about her. Sirius personally didn’t see what could possibly be so wonderful about a girl, but he was a bit jealous of James starting his lessons with the blade. A handsome prince dressed in armor, valiantly fending off enemies with his sword – now that was what he could call wonderful.
Whenever his new family was out of the castle, Sirius was left wandering the long hallways by himself. He’d become acquainted with most of the castle staff, especially the female knight who’d found him the day he’d escaped. Estelle was her name. He quite liked her – she reminded him a bit of Mary. She was both feisty and gentle, and would indulge in conversation with Sirius once he’d felt safe enough to start.
Some nights though, he’d be left alone. Estelle was still many years older than him, and she couldn’t exactly be exempt from her guard duties to mess around in the castle. So, without anyone to entertain him, he found solace in his own thoughts. On good days, he’d think about James. He’d run through their next list of mischief to get done or adventure novels to read together. Sometimes just imagining the warmth of the castle when the Potters were home was enough to get him through the night. On bad days, he’d think about Regulus. Flashes of his mother and the things she’d say would bite at his chest. He’d picture his brother’s small frame, alone and scared inside the towering castle walls.
When it all became too much to bear, and he wasn’t alone, Sirius would sneak himself underneath James’ covers. He’d cling onto him, then let his thoughts pour out like vomit. Whether it was a nightmare or he just needed to cry – James always listened. Sirius wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve someone as patient and caring as James Potter, especially when he had been such a dead-beat brother himself.
I promise you I’ll be fine. I’ll find you. As spring turned to summer, the words became harder to believe.
.
James made his oath with a god on his fourteenth birthday. An “Oath of the Crown” is what he’d called it. Even if he hadn’t been born a prince, James was destined for greatness by nature. Anyone who knew him could see that.
It happened after he’d finished giving a speech to the guests at his banquet. “It is no more my duty to lead my kingdom than it is to serve it. To bring peace between nations, and glory to Astar, I would easily give my life. There is no question to that,” is what he’d said. Sirius had internally laughed at this, wondering if their guests knew that the valiant, righteous prince standing before them had replaced their parent’s morning alarms with a live rooster the day before. Apparently, Godric Gryffindor did not. He’d visited James on the balcony right after – and just like that, an oath was made.
Things changed quickly after James made his connection with Godric. James using magic was something Sirius took at least a month to get used to. But it wasn’t just the magic. He became noticeably stronger, swifter with his sword. According to James, his powers came from the oath he’d made. Godric was simply a guide – a tangible connection between his oath and the powers harnessed by it. His parents never let him fight in any real battles, but they did start him in training underneath one of the head knights. Consequently, Sirius was left with more nights to himself.
He was thrilled for James, obviously. Magic and power were absolutely necessary if James ever wanted to rule over his kingdom. They were also quite useful for mischief making. All the same, Sirius couldn’t help but feel left in the dust. While James was running around the courtyard, flipping his sword around like a storybook hero, Sirius could hardly hobble his way out of his room without his crutch.
“Do you suppose I’ll ever be able to cast magic like you?” he asked one night, gazing longingly out the window at the full moon.
“No doubt about it,” James assured, “You’ll be even better than me, I’m sure. My magic isn’t too good– well, it’s not like my mom’s. I’m much better with the sword.” He turned to Sirius, a wild grin spread across his face, “Just wait. Once you become a powerful wizard or something, we’ll have crazy ways to mess with the guards.”
Sirius smirked back at him, mind already whirling with ideas.