❝ Maybe in another universe, she was easier to love.❞
_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
｢ in which the siren darya swan is
forced to become a death eater,
and work alongside the infamous
regulus black. together, they decide
to destroy tom riddle from the inside...
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She woke up to the sound of a voice calling from the deep, echoing inside the walls of Swan Manor. Darya was sure the cries would wake everyone.
You must not sleep. You must not sleep. Already then, she understood something was wrong. Going to the hospital for her shift, it repeated in her head. It's not just a dream.
Once every hour, she had to roll up her sleeve and check that a skull wasn't marked on her arm. After seeing how the black of it had carved into her old friend's skin, she was terrified. It was just a mark, but it sentenced Regulus to a life of slavery for Riddle.
No. She wouldn't lay pity on Regulus. He had chosen this life. He couldn't blame his parents, last name, nor Tom. She couldn't be blind and pretend that she didn't see the blood on his hands just because he wanted her to. In streets and cold homes, half-bloods and Muggleborns lived in fear because of people like him.
Darya had been alarmed by Regulus' being when they spent time together at school. He would recite headlines written about Riddle and babble about his blood purity. She had warned him that Riddle's thinking would lead to war, but he had shaken his head, saying that such evil does not exist.
Little boy, you still have so much to learn.
She had treated countless patients after their battles against the people Regulus defended. He did not have the right to speak for the victims, to tell them how they should feel. They had been attacked while with their families, while on their way to work, trying to live their lives. He was not allowed to open his mouth and tell her how Riddle's followers were decent people trying to save them all.
Regulus could not sit in the comfort of his own home and say how he felt of those bleeding for his status. The injustice did not affect his life, but he knew what horror they did long before he joined them.
Little boy, do not believe they don't take pleasure in pain. They know what they do, fuelling the flames of hatred, enjoying the killing, wishing to see the end in an ocean of blood. You cannot forgive, forgive, and forgive. You must not endure so very well with the injustice that does not affect yourself.
"I'm sorry," Darya's patient suddenly said, looking up at her.
She let go off his shoulder, which she had gripped so she could heal it. "My apologies, did I hurt you?"
"No, Miss, you're gentle. But your thoughts are loud."
Darya took a step back. He could listen to her thoughts. "I'm so sorry, I have a lot on my mind. Tell me, how did you get these marks again?"
He knit his brows together. "Just a fight. A curse, savvy. Got some on my arms, as well."
Carefully asking him to take off his shirt so she could look at the marks, she turned her back to him and walked to find saltwater and shells for her healing spell. The patient had just come in, and if she was quick, he could be leaving again within an hour. The marks on his shoulders weren't much. Little blood, little pain. She just needed to close the wounds.
