Crimson rivers

More for the chapter 1

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Sirius paces back and forth, listening to the quiet murmurs of his parents through the door. He can't hear Regulus respond, which means he isn't. Sirius can guess what their parents are saying without having to hear it, just clipped orders to come home, or not die a death that shames the family. No different than they told Sirius ten years ago.

Sirius came home, after doing shameful things to get back, things that still live under his fingernails and behind his eyelids to this day. He didn't die a death to shame the family, but since coming back, he's lived a life that sure has.

Well, that's how his parents see it, in any case. Sometimes it's hard coming from an extended family of Victors, only more so when you're a Victor yourself. Sirius finds it ridiculous, really, because it's not as if Walburga or Orion have ever been to the arena. Just Alphard, Cygnus, Bellatrix, and Narcissa—all who were Victors. Alphard hadn't handled the aftermath of the arena well and made many public scenes before eventually, essentially killing himself on booze and bad health. Cygnus had handled it well and raised three daughters who would too, if they ever found themselves in that situation. And, when Bellatrix and Narcissa did, they proved it.

After her games, Narcissa went off to marry someone in the first district, closest to the Hallow. Being a Victor, she could, and she could also take her sisters with her when she went. Bellatrix left with her, but Andromeda did not. She stayed behind to settle down with a man named Ted, who the family didn't approve of at all. She's estranged from the family now, but not Sirius, who is always sneaking off to go see her and little Nymphadora, the cutest baby he's ever met. Walburga and Orion gave up on Sirius years ago now, and they haven't spoken to him or acknowledged him for a long time, despite happily using the benefits they get because he's a Victor. They still control Regulus, though, so they forbid him from seeing Andromeda, and Regulus listens.

Of course Regulus listens, because if he doesn't, it never ends well. Sirius can understand that, even if it drives him mental, because he never listened. Expecting the same out of Regulus is pointless. Regulus only does what he's willing to do.

It's going to get him killed.

Sirius' stomach twists. He remembers when he volunteered for his little brother, the first person to volunteer in decades, at least in their district. He had to, though, because as soon as he heard Regulus' name called, he knew his little brother would die. Regulus—at that age—would never survive the arena.

Frankly, Sirius wasn't sure he would survive the arena, but he did. Sometimes he wishes he hadn't. Sometimes he hates Regulus for being someone he loves so much that he would go for him. But never—not once—has Sirius regretted it. He will never regret saving his little brother's life.

This feels like being spit in the face. Like he was just putting off the inevitable. Because here Regulus is, his name still echoing in Sirius' ears, and Sirius can't save him this time.

And then there's James.

Just thinking about it makes Sirius' stomach lurch. His best friend. Fuck, his best friend is going to the arena, too, and Sirius can't take his place either. James is—he's Sirius' whole world, honestly. Without him, Sirius wouldn't be alive right now. Without him, Sirius wouldn't know what to do.

James is going into the arena with Regulus. How is that fair? What does Sirius even do with that? It makes him want to scream, to bang against the walls of some inner enclosure, to collide his fist into whatever is closest until his mind is quiet. He can't do this. He can't—he doesn't know how he's going to do this. He doesn't have a fucking choice.

Sirius is meant to train them. To prepare them. To teach them. He's meant to give them every trick, tip, and tool to survive, then watch them go face down death. Sirius has never brought a tribute home, not once in the last eight years, and now his little brother and best friend are going to be looking to him for help. He doesn't know how to tell them that there's no help for them, that really, at the end of the day, it comes down to a person's desperate need to survive.