❝But let us laugh carelessly like other men.

Let us be timid even among fools.

Let us knot silence around our throats.

For they would surely kill us.❞

Glenway Wescott

👑👑👑

No one knew what truly broke France, what was the last straw, the last affront or insult to the poors. No one from the bourgeoisie had been ready for the fire and hate thrown at them on the streets. They weren't used to this change of role, they had always been the ones in power, the ones who could spit in the face of a starving child and his dying mother with no consequences whatsoever.

But one day, one sacred day soon after Sirius and Adélaïde's wedding, the Bastille fortress was taken by a crowd of untrained peasants and rogue soldiers who were tired of the howling injustice they lived in.

Sirius' father, Orion, had then understood how far the French people were ready to go to gain rights, to have some bread to eat and some clear water to drink.

Walburga, on the other hand, had stayed blind to her husband's worries, she had been like an ostrich. Hiding herself between her golden walls and her tall glass of red wine. Slipping into the warm embrace of alcohol and illusion.

Sirius had been too sad to understand anything. He couldn't forget Remus' broken expression, it was so vivid in his mind, so fresh.

Regulus was the only one who listened to his father. He would read the journal and comment the new events with a tormented face.

The years had passed and the Black family was standing on a very dangerous cliff. Their lives dangling at the edge of a trap that would surely one day close itself around its victim.

Adélaïde was living with her husband, in the huge family manor. She had been happy to settle into one of the largest rooms of the entire house, making herself more at home in two days than Sirius had been able to in twenty four years.

Usually, young rich people who got married, would stay in at the family propriety as long as they did not have children of their own. Which was not going to happen soon, if Sirius could prevent it.

The first year after their marriage, Sirius had said that they were too young, that the time was not good. And then the Bastille had been taken and he had a better excuse to leave his wife's bed as much as he could.

The second year, she had been tired to see him run away from her. She had forced him down, kissing him and caressing him all over his body. He had tried to make love to her, he knew his life would be easier if he gave her a child, but he had never been able to. His body refused to do it.

He felt no attraction for Adélaïde, he did not want to hold her thin waist and touch her breast. Her skin was too soft, her edges too round, her hair too long and her lips too sweet.

He wanted rough hands and chestnut hair. He wanted bony fingers and hairy legs. He wanted a man.

He wanted Remus.

The third year, he had been unable to stop her. She had used her hands and mouth to finally coerce him into sex. They had spent the night into each other's arms, so close and yet so far. Sirius had never felt so cold.

Adélaïde had been pregnant, a slight bump slowly growing on her flat abdomen. Walburga had been ecstatic, the family name would survive. Even if the French bourgeoisie didn't. Orion had not said anything, he had just smiled with his usual dead eyes.

Regulus had congratulated his brother in front of their parents and Sirius' wife. Then he had hugged his brother all night as he cried. Regulus had always been seen as the weakest member of the family, the sick boy with broken lungs, the one who could not flirt with women, who only lived in his books.

But to Sirius, Regulus was the strongest one.

His brother would have not played Adélaïde's sick game, he would have been smarter.

Regulus was the clever one, the one who would change the world, Sirius knew it.

Or at least, he would have.

Regulus died a few weeks before Adélaïde's foetus. He had been unable to breathe properly for months, spitting involuntarily black, sometimes blood-tinged, sputum.

Sirius had stayed with him until his last painful breath, ignoring his wife cries and screams about her own condition.

He had never wanted a child. But he would have died for his brother.

And here he was, holding the now cold body of his Regulus, his only light in this world of darkness.

After the death of the foetus, Adélaïde had begged for another child, she had yelled and sobbed. But Sirius had no reason to accept her demand. His brother was dead, his lover was gone, he had not seen his best friend and son in years.

He was now patiently waiting for the tender release of death.

"You want to die this badly?" Had whispered Orion behind his journal, not meeting his son's eyes. "You have no reasons to live anymore?"

"No." Answered Sirius, staring at the Eggs Benedict the cook had made for him. "There is nothing in this life for me anymore."

"You are so selfish." Shouted Adélaïde, throwing her own plate on the ground. "We could be happy! I could have your baby."

"I will never touch you again." He had spat back. "As long as I live, you and I will stay far away from each other."

Walburga had stayed quiet, the death of her youngest son had put her into a sort of trance she could no seem to leave. Death was floating over the Black family's heads, flying across the manor like a morbid butterfly.

Orion had been the last one to die.

His death had been a surprise. Something so out of the ordinary that Sirius had a hard time believing his father's passing.

Orion's carriage had been over throwned by peasants on the streets. Everyone knew Orion Black and his family, they knew about the money and power they were abusing and when they had seen the oldest and most powerful member of the family driving peacefully in the streets like nothing had happened, like the Bastille had not fallen, something had snapped.

His body had been found a few hours after the accident. Morsels of flesh and skin had been torn off his face, his clothes had been shredded to pieces and everything of value had been stolen.

Sirius was the last living male heir of the Black family.

Cygnus had died a few months before, leaving Bellatrix and her husband as the rightful owners of the second family manor.

Narcissa was married to the Malfoy boy, her son had been named Draco and she had decided, soon after his birth, to leave France. She might have been prideful, but she was not stupid. Everyone with half of a brain knew that Paris would fall, that the royalty was going to die to the hands of the people. It was just a question of time.

Walburga no longer left the manor, she would stay in her armchair for hours, reading Regulus' cherished books as she sipped on a priceless wine bottle.

Adélaïde was still the same. So sure of herself and of the monarchy, she believed that nothing would happen to the rich of France, that the people would stop their "meaningless fight" as she called it and soon, everything would go back to normal.

Sirius hoped for a revolution. He had never cared much for the king and queen, he knew that they were not to blame entirely for the absolute horror you could witness in the streets of Paris. But the poor needed someone to blame, someone to humiliate and kill when the time came.

Marie - Antoinette and her expensive lifestyle were the perfect scapegoat. Louis XVI and his inability to rule were a good reason to end the monarchy and to free Versailles.

Sirius was playing the waiting game.

Every day, he would look out of the window, hoping to see people out the manor with torches and swords, if not guns. He wanted them to kill him, he was ready to die.

He wanted to tarnish the white stones of the manor with his poisoned blood. He wanted to feel his youth and life leave his tired body.

He was ready.

He woke up one morning and he knew it was the end. His end.

On the 10th of August 1792, Sirius Orion Black died like he lived. In the arms of Remus John Lupin.

They called it "La prise des Tuileries." They could have simply called it revolution, or justice.

Sirius had not seen it, when he woke up that morning, everything had seemed the same. The birds were still tweeting, Adélaïde was still screaming and Walburga was still drinking.

But, as he ate breakfast with his hysterical wife and his catatonic mother, he heard it.

The first gun shots.

Then he heard the screams, the cries of pain, the songs of rebellion, he heard it all.

He had wanted to come out, to let the people lynch him, but Adélaïde had kept him locked inside. She had told him how crazy he was, she promised him love and happiness, she said she could fix everything, that she would love him until the end even if he did not love her in return.

Sirius had suffered through the speech. He wanted to slap her across her perfect face, he wanted to tear her apart and then kill himself. He was ready to do it, ready to leave his wife for dead and his mother to her demise.

Until someone knocked at their door.

At first, Adélaïde had threatened him, she said that if he opened the door, she would leave him, they would no longer be husband and wife. She probably did not understand how that pushed Sirius to do it even more.

But after all, he was scared.

He wanted to die, he wanted to join Regulus in Heaven, or even in Hell. But he was scared to suffer, he was tired of the pain. He was almost ready to listen to his wife, almost ready to let it be.

Then he heard it.

"Sirius, open this goddamn door, I haven't got all day."

He almost took the door off the hinges, letting his lover inside. His Remus, his everything, back into his life.

"Remus..." He had breathed, tears pouring down his cheeks as he tried to hug the man in front of him.

Remus did not hug him back. He looked jittery, afraid, but somehow excited.

"Sirius, I am here because..."

"What are you doing here!?" Yelled Adélaïde, her face turning into an ugly grin. "My husband told you to leave this place and never come back."

"I am really not here for your bullshit, Beauvarlet." Spat Remus.

He was no longer the shy esquire Sirius had known. He was a man, with scars on his beautiful face and blood under his nails.

"I am madame Black now." Answered Adélaïde, her grin growing wider. "And you are not welcome inside my home."

"And I will not repeat myself a third time, I am really not here for your bullshit, now leave before I lose my temper."

The girl stared at the man in front of her, both ready to fight and hurt each other as much as they could.

"Remus, why are you here?" Whispered Sirius, emotion dying in his throat as he looked at his lover.

"I am here to save your sorry arse,  of course." Said Remus. "The king will fall today, the monarchy is dying, the bourgeoisie will be killed as well. I need to get you to London as fast I can before they come for the last rich families of France."

Something in Sirius' chest grew bigger and bigger. Remus was back because he wanted to save him, after everything he had done, he still meant something to the man he loved.

"Peter is outside with a carriage that will take us both to Calais. Then you will take a boat with James, Lily and Harry. You will all be safe in London."

"And what about you? And Peter?" Asked Sirius, scared of the answer he might receive.

"Peter and I are part of the revolution. We can't just leave with you."

Adélaïde snickered in the corner of the room.

"Of course you are a révolutionnaire, only dumb and poor people like you would follow such a foolish plan."

Remus did not even look at the woman, his eyes still locked with Sirius'.

"We have a new name for you, you'll have a new life."

"What do you mean?" Questioned Sirius.

"Officially, Sirius Orion Black will be dead. You will no longer hold any responsibilities for your family, you won't have a destiny or duties to fill. You'll be as free as me or Pete. You'll be like us."

Sirius stared, drowning in the beautiful eyes of his lover. He dreamed of being like Remus, he dreamed of freedom, but he also dreamed of something more.

"Will I be with you? Like we were before I said those awful things. I never meant those things, I never cared about your wealth nor do I care now about you being in the revolution, I always wanted you. I'm so sorry."

Remus looked at him, placing a hand on the Black heir's face, finally touching him after three years.

"We'll work it out, I can't forgive you right now. It still hurts sometimes. But I am ready to try."

Sirius smiled, his hands trembling with happiness and fear.

"Will you come with me?" Asked Remus, hope suffocating his words.

Sirius thought of everything, of his life here, of his name. He thought about the manor and the family reputation. He heard Adélaïde's screams and his mother's slow breathing.

He saw Remus' eyes, his lips, his nose, his cheeks and jaw. He felt the warmth of his fingers against his skin, he saw the love in his eyes and he knew.

"Yes." He said and Sirius Orion Black was officially dead.