CHAPTER ELEVEN. . .
Weight of the World

"Name one hero who was happy."

I considered. Heracles went mad and killed his family; Theseus lost his bride and father; Jason's children and new wife were murdered by his old; Bellerophon killed the Chimera but was crippled by the fall from Pegasus' back.

"You can't." He was sitting up now, leaning forward.
Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

When August Darlington II enters Darlington Manor for the first time in months, the wind is knocked out of his chest and for a moment he forgets how to breathe. The glorious boy of six feet; a blend of scruffy brown hair, and a pearl-white smile that lulls you into a false sense of security until his bruised knuckles strike you down, has been struck down by the presence of his family home surrounding him. August's veins are carved out by the burning of Darlington's Old Firewhiskey, stolen kisses at perfect Pureblood parties and crashing Muggle clubs in the aftermath; and as he steps through the threshold, August remembers why he begun the uprising in the first place. It was never truely a choice, instead a matter of natural inclination. The revolution came to him, and the simple truth is that August was, and never will be, built like the rest of his family was. Where they hail from graveyards, built on the bones of lying by omission; August and his puzzle pieces of tragedy don't fit into the marble model that they've attempted to push him into.

Neither his mother or father had been at the station to pick up August and Theodora when the former finally scrapped himself off the walls of the compartment, and away from the softness of Sirius' mouth against his. He'd chased them as they left, latching on again until all he could feel was only his skin against Sirius'. Until he could forget the weight of the world on his shoulders. Theodora had shot a questioning look at the flushing of his freckled cheeks; the way his lips were slightly red and swollen from the force of the melody. But she was smart, and she asked no questions.

Now, August and Theodora both stand in the foyer of Darlington Manor which sits comfortably on the outskirts of Notting Hill, hidden from the prying eyes of Muggles with an ancient spell performed by their ancestors, and he begins to remember flashes of the past.

☾☾☾

THE FOYER

Younger August Darlington, an innocent flower of only six years old, laughed brightly; the sound reverberated off the walls and carried through the foyer of Darlington Manor like a soft lullaby. Theodora, four years old, stands on the carpet in front of him. There was nobody around to watch them; to keep them from the trouble that the two Darlington siblings always find themselves in. It was no secret that young August and Theodora were partners in crime-twin flames of trouble that always found themselves in rather peculiar positions of problematic distress.

It shouldn't have been a surprise to find both of them tugging at the one of the office rugs as they pulled it into the foyer of the manor. Laughter dripped from their tongues, and stars sparkled in their young eyes-they were happy, content with the game that they had created overnight.

"Theo! You're meant to sit on the rug!" August insisted, and pushed his younger sister onto the red fabric. "And then I pull you like it's a magic carpet!"

Theodora pouted. "Why can't I pull you?"

"You can't." Younger August's brows furrowed in their childish determination. "You aren't strong enough."

"Fine! Pull!" Theodora huffed, but collapsed onto the rug anyway with crossed arms. She turned to look to August with an raised eyebrow-even in her youth, Theodora Darlington was, and always will be the same: determined, dauntless and daring. With a second thought, August wrenched the carpet and ran, pulling Theodora across the foyer with a bout of bright laughter. Theodora whooped, and her small, chubby fists bunched into the patterned fabric, clinging on so she didn't skid across the marble floor and into one of their mother's many decorative vases that lined the walls. As they swung around the corner, and barely missed their father, Theodora's brightened and she let go of the carpet with a squeal. "Daddy!"

August came to a halt, and unlike Theodora his face does not brighten, it pales.

"What in the name of Merlin are you two doing?" August Darlington I asked with a slight scowl, and his son's heart stopped for a moment. "At least watch for the vases."

August breathed out, and Theodora laughed. The senior Darlington looked around, and spared a glance towards the office where their mother was working.

"Make sure your mother doesn't hear you." With a wink, he walked away, and left August and Theodora to their own devices, pulling on the rug.

Unfortunately, their mother found them twenty minutes later and sent them to bed after a scorning lecture. That night, young August opened his covers to a tired and crying Theodora, and allowed her to crawl into his side. That night was the night he swore that their mother would never be allowed to ruin anything for them again.

☾☾☾

THE GARDENS

Anyone who had seen August Darlington II in his infancy, would have supposed him to be built for a rebellious inclination. It was, and still is, easy to read in the tensing of his youthful body; years of cracked marble eased back together with discarded gum for glue. Another bandaid for a bleeding bullet wound. And anyone who had seen August Darlington II in his childhood, would have supposed him to be the protector of his younger sister, Theodora. Not yet had she cracked, witnessed the sour disposition that Cassiopeia Darlington had towards the idea of children, even as a mother, and even towards her own children. And even though, by then August had already known of his mother's disposition, and he'd much rather take refuge I his Aunt Zoe's house for the weekend, he couldn't leave Theodora behind. That is how he found himself and Theodora at the base of the great oak tree as they stared up into it's great branches that stretched out across their gardens. The sky, a lovely shade of blue set the scene for the day; flowers of pinks, purples and yellows dotted the horizon far as their young eyes could see. They were blessed-blessed to have a garden so big that they could play in. Theodora and August could create whatever adventures that came to mind: knights in shining armour, galloping to save the princess in her tower or a travelling symphony, performing Shakespeare's sonnets and plays to an audience of thousands. That day as Theodora looked to the tree and its great big branches, she made a decision.

"I'm going to climb it!" She exclaimed to August, and furrowed her nose with a ten year old's grace.

Thirteen year old, August surveyed her with a look but didn't protest. "I'll be waiting here at the bottom." He promised softly and watched her climb to the very top with careful eyes.

True to his word, for fifteen minutes he watched her dance from branch to branch, tempted to join her in the expedition. But he knew, that if anything went wrong, Theodora would require somebody at the bottom to catch her as she fell, and August had always been her angel with wings, saving her from tragedy. He was right to wait, because as she climbed down from the branches, swinging from limb to limb as laughter slipped from her lips like soothing honey. It was music to his ears. Until the melody was interrupted by a snap when she was just two metres from the bottom, clutching tightly to of the last branches. It was thinner, frail towards the end, and Theodora knew this but still decided to inch towards the end in a moment of foolishness.

"Theo!" The scream lurched from August's throat with a vengeance, just as pungent in the air as Theodora's own. She landed on the ground with a thump and a sickening snap, and the world slowed. Another scream tore itself from his battered throat. "Theo! Are you okay?"

A whimper released from Theodora's lips and August, no longer tentative in his actions, launched himself to rest by her side. Her arm was crooked, limb as it hung, snapped in half underneath the skin.

"Just hold on. I've got you, I promise." August said, and he scrambled to his feet. He pulled Theodora with him, careful to mind her arm. "Dipsy! We need help!"

The Darlington house-elf appeared with a pop, and August nearly jumped but didn't on the account that he was holding a whimpering, and injured Theodora. They took a moment to survey the damaged, ears pressed onto their head in distress.

"Master August!" They shrieked. "What happened?"

"I wasn't paying attention-" August attempted to answer. "-And she. . . She fell from the tree."

Dipsy's face softened slightly, and they took August's hand. "We must take her to St Mungo's, Master. We can send for your parents when we get there."

August nodded furiously, but refused to let go of his sister.

"Can you hold onto her very tightly for me?" Dipsy asked. They squeezed August's hand tighter as he nodded in response once again. "One. . . Two. . . Three. . ."

The next few hours were a blur for young August-he remembered them landing with another pop, Dipsy by their side. And that for a moment nobody noticed him clutching onto his crying sister. When they finally did, the two children were swept into a flurry of harsh white lights, the metal of an IV stuck into Theodora's arm, and the groans of drowsy pain that emitted from her lips once her arm had been set, ready to heal with a potion within a few hours. The entire time, August never left her bedside, stationed like a royal guard in the seat at her side. When their parents finally appeared in the doorway, he didn't move an inch, August was rooted in his position.

"What happened?" Cassiopeia thundered as she burst into the room and surveyed the damage: a drug-riddled Theodora knocked out on her bed as August sat and clutched her hand like it was his lifeline. "How could you allow this, August?"

"It wasn't my fault." He murmured quietly, throat thickly coated with emotion. He didn't yet know how to control the tremble in his young voice. "She accidentally fell."

"There is no way we can show for the fundraiser tonight with Theodora in that state!" Cassiopeia seethed. "How are we going to look to the Zabini's and Malfoy's now?"

"Like responsible parents looking after their kid." August muttered, always equipped with the answer. But the answer led him to a cuff over the head and he yelped.

"Cassiopeia," August Darlington I's grunt was a warning, "enough."

Cassiopeia glowered at her husband but said no more, simply turned towards her daughter and took the seat on her other side. The older August approached his son with kind eyes and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you well?"

August simply nodded, not bothered enough with words to provide him with a lie.

☾☾☾

THE BALLROOM

The Dining Room of Darlington Manor holds a special place in August's heart. It was sunset-a mirage of orange and pinks glistening through the large crystal windows-when August Darlington I and Cassiopeia Darlington informed August that he would no longer be alone. He was young, only on the cusp of three years old with no clue as to what having a sibling would entail, but he was excited. More than Cassiopeia and August ever thought their son would be. But it was the ballroom where it became known how fierce he felt on the inside as he crawled through the cracks of his skin and rage reared it's ugly head. He understood from a young age that he would never be what is mother wanted him to be: he was far more human. August was not one of the great Gods-the winner of the war; instead a Titan general cursed to hold the weight of his decisions-essentially, the weight of the world.

Darlington Manor's ballroom was decorated to perfection that night, but fourteen year old August Darlington hated the sight of it with every cursed bone in his body. Because once upon a time the idea of a perfect family was something Cassiopeia Darlington could see right in front of her, and assumed she could reach. She married the right man within the Sacred Twenty-Eight but never fell in love, and produced two ideal children: an heir to the family, and a daughter to dote on. But doting was never apart of her personality, and she was never built for motherhood-a detail she'd never expected. Cassiopeia made the mistake of assumption. Cassiopeia Darlington's logic is this: if I raise my children the same way I was: harsh truths in turn for excellence, affection traded for finery, what could go wrong? Rather than a family, she built a dollhouse, and that has it's consequences.

For one, August's inability to lock eyes with his mother as she crossed the threshold of the doors and moved into the room with the grace akin to royalty. She was born into her position: the Monarch of the Darlington Dynasty, the Head of International Magical Cooperation-a position that often kept her busy and away from her dollhouse with all it's little playthings. Theodora, young and impressionable, could still hold her mother's gaze, and even bring herself to smile. August hated the violent jealously that tore his throat to shreds and forced every breath he took to be flaming with pain. She changed for you, August wanted to scream; to shout into the crowd of masked faces and stone hearts, and I was not worth changing for.

But duty overtook his pain and he swept Cassiopeia off her feet and onto the dance floor. Their pace was easy to fall into, he was already taller than his mother at fourteen-not yet a man, but not quite the boy he used to be. He still did not look her in the eyes, and chose to focus on a singular spot of golden ivy painted on the wall over her shoulder.

Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow at her son; he caught it in the corner of his eyes.

"No words for your mother?" It's a challenge. There were now battle lines drawn between them, etched into the marble beneath their feet.

August crushed his teeth together. Even at a young age, the anger he still feels seethed beneath the surface of his skin like molten lava ready to explode. At this point in his life, he'd already befriended Lily and Malia, finding solace within the freedom that they'd given him. But still, August found himself drawn into the world of aristocracy and atrocities, all without choice. He's unable to avoid the bait, so he takes it. "I do not see a mother before me."

If she were any other woman, Cassiopeia would've felt the words like a slap to her cheek, but instead she only grinned-equal parts destruction and death.

"Your sister would beg to differ," the words are honey but they fail to disguise the sting, "I have turned over a new leaf."

August bites his tongue.

"No comment?" Cassiopeia goaded. "That's so unlike you, my son."

August ground on his teeth so hard that he began to think they'd splinter under the force, but bone proved to be stronger than marble. "You know nothing." He muttered darkly.

"I know plenty." Cassiopeia said and freed herself of August's loose grip. "I know that you believe me to be something wicked, but really all I am doing it looking out for your best interests."

"Like I said." August maintained his calm exterior. They continued dancing, Cassiopeia back within his arms. "You know nothing."

"Theodora-"

"Don't you dare use her in this argument." August snapped as his exterior fell to pieces in front of Cassiopeia's eyes. "She believes you changed for her, but I know not to expect anything because I was not worth changing for." With that he wrenched himself from her arms and stalked across the ballroom without a care.

Along the way August snagged Theodora's wrist in his hand as he pulled her behind one of the kitchen doors. He ignored the trail of tears down his cheeks-the heaving of his chest and chose to focus on the lifeline in front of him, and pulled Theodora into a tight hug.

"What's wrong, Gus?" Theodora asked. Her eyelashes battered and she looked like a fairy in her dress of pink gossamer and purple tulle. "Did something happen?"

He kneeled before her, hiding his tears. "I just want you to remember something. Can you promise me something?"

She looked confused but nodded.

"Promise me-" August had to pause to suck in a breath. "-Promise me that you will never forget who you are in here." He tapped the space above her heart. "And promise me that you will never forget that you are fucking worth it, and you are enough. Can you do that for me?"

Theodora's nose scrunched. "You're not supposed to say that word."

August's laugh was wet and heavy. "Can you promise me, Theo?"

Theodora took the promise solemnly. "I promise."

August pulled her into another hug, and they didn't return to the party that night.

☾☾☾

It takes great effort for August to pull himself back to the present: the rush of memories causing his head to pound, and spin with dizziness. He rounds the corner, sneaking a look into the ballroom-the same one from all those years ago and almost considers running to Lily's the moment the Christmas decorations catch his eyes. Cassiopeia Darlington has always been one for planning early, and down to every last dirty detail. Familiar clicking footsteps approach him from behind and August sucks in a deep breath, preparing himself for the violent tempest ahead.

"Hello, August."

August spins on his heel, pressing down the instant reaction of dread, and forces himself to smile politely smile. "Hello, mother." He spits out the word mother with more contempt than he originally intended, but the meaning is true.

Cassiopeia Darlington smiles, and it holds power-his judge, jury and executioner. "We have much to discuss."

August closes his eyes for a split second-he sees Theodora, eyes bright and arms welcoming whenever he needs: his sister, and his partner in crime, and allows himself to be lead away.

authors note:
hope you all enjoyed <33
📍so if you missed anything or perhaps got lost, this is a section of flashbacks to bits of august's childhood, and his broken up into sections of their house + different ages which you should read in the paragraphs
📍the aim, which i hope has worked, was to help out a little in regards to the status of his relationships w his mum and theodora specifically...
📍on that, cassiopeia darlington is a shit human being, do not forget that!!!!!!