Black Truth
He sat silently in the room, staring at the locket.
It glittered innocently in the candlelight, the flames flickering over its shining surface. It looked so unimportant, so simple –
Could he really do this?
He thought of Bella. Sweet Bellatrix Black, who had bandaged his knees when he fell and skinned them – she was Bellatrix Lestrange now, and a passionate follower of the Dark Lord. Narcissa. Wonderful Cissy, his best friend in those years before Hogwarts – married off to that monster. Andi, who had been like a second mother to him before he found out she was dating that – that Muggleborn – what would she think of him now?
Sirius.
Sirius, who hated him.
Sirius, who had cast him aside without a second thought.
He could still see his older brother's face, the disgust in his eyes as he looked at "little Reggie". He could still see the disdain on Sirius's face as his older brother forced his sleeve up and stared at the Dark Mark.
He could still feel Sirius's robes whipping across his face as his big brother turned and walked away from him. Still hear the shouts, feel the curses flying through the wind as he dodged the Aurors that Sirius set on him.
He could still feel the pain, the sense of betrayal as he stumbled into Grimmauld Place that night as a fugitive. Could still hear his mother's enraged screams as she saw the blood dripping from her youngest son's arm.
One of the Aurors, a bald black man – Kingsley Shacklebolt, he thought it was – had hit him right on the Dark Mark with a cutting curse. The man had terrific aim.
Grimacing, he brought his hand up and clutched at his forearm, sliding the sleeve of his robes up. Looking down, he smiled sadly as he saw the brand marring his skin.
Once upon a time, he'd thought it was a mark of honor.
But it wasn't Sirius that was the abomination, was it? It was the Dark Lord himself, with his fear of death, his bandying with the natural order of life.
The natural order was life, then death. So it always had been. So it always would be.
Even the Dark Lord couldn't escape that.
Could he do this? Regulus wondered.
Yes, he knew suddenly. He could.
He'd have to work quickly. The Dark Lord could not be fooled for long. The Dark Marks, he'd learned from Bella, connected his followers to the Dark Lord in more ways than one. Their master could see into his followers' minds, and only a superb Occlumens could even hope to fool him for long.
The best that Regulus could hope was that the Dark Lord's attention was focused elsewhere until his task was completed.
Picking up his quill, he slowly began to write.
To the Dark Lord
I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know…