Regulus & Rabastan ;; Threads - Blog Posts

Regulus wondered whether Rabastan being able to cast off the curse so easily was due to the advance warning that he'd had of the casting, or whether it was his own weakness. He didn't want to be weak. Regulus ached to be strong, to be the man his father demanded he be. His father had tried to carve him into that with blood and violence, demanding obedience and respect rather than earning it. At least there was trust between himself and Rabastan, and that his poor attempt at the imperius curse hadn't been retaliated with the cruciatus immediately.

He saw a brief flicker of something that might be pride in Rab's eyes before it was replaced with the soothing calm of the imperius curse. He stepped closer to his mentor and held his hand out to receive Rabastan's wand, hissing ever so slightly at the sparks that fell onto his skin, but he did not waver in his concentration on the task at hand. He wanted Rabastan's wand to be surrendered, and he would bend Rabastan's will to meet his own.

Pocketing his mentor's wand out of reach, Regulus was struck by the feeling of true power that it offered. In normal circumstances, he knew that Rabastan would never surrender his wand to anyone - so that Regulus had been able to take it from him was testament to the strength of his curse. He could make Rabastan do anything right now, and he knew it. "Your signet ring. Give me your signet ring.” Anything that made the man a Lestrange.

Rabastan had a few seconds to consider Regulus's attempt, though he didn't proceed very far beyond deciding that something had been lacking in its execution. Rabastan was practised at throwing aside this spell. But it should not have been possible when he'd yielded to it so willingly and completely. There was a certain amount of trust between the two Death Eaters. Rabastan would not submit himself to many so easily, and it was with a slash of rising pride that he acknowledged the other wizard's second attempt before the spell drowned him once more.

He had taught him to be relentless. Speed, precision and creativity were Rabastan's strengths and he had attempted to encourage them in Regulus. As the curse struck again, his expression faded from his wicked thrill and headed rapidly towards a pure happiness that was far detached from his usual stern repertoire. The strength was far greater. This time it pervaded him with no chink in its armour, and having no conscious desire to resist Regulus's efforts, Rabastan extended his own wand and pointed it heedlessly.

For a wild instant, he thought that he did not want to give it away. The weapon sparked lightly at that moment, objecting to its master's unwilling action. But it was futile. He stepped forward, offering the wand to Regulus. It was an action that would horrify him under normal circumstances. He had spent a lifetime crafting the wand to his will. Being without magic, and losing the efficacy of his wand, were his worst fears.

There was something to be said about a mental block affecting magic, and Regulus privately wondered how much research had been done on this topic. He had performed unforgivable curses before, and yet the more confused he got about his place in the world, the harder the curses were to cast. He had always been the spare, but he felt that Sirius would've been better at all of this than he was - if only his older brother wasn't a coward who had chosen to leave him behind. It frustrated him that his personal turmoil was having such an effect on his magic, but the deepening frustration was akin to a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Regulus had been both the attacker and the victim when it came to the imperio curse, and the peace on Rabastan's face was a feeling that he knew all too well. An all-encompassing peace where he felt like nothing could go wrong. His parents were fast and loose with the use of unforgivables in the home, and Regulus had found himself at the end of his father's wand on more than one occasion. Watching his mentor pirouetting made Regulus snort in amusement, and he knew he'd made the right choice in action. "I think you'd make a wonderful ballerina...we should get you some shoes, and a little tutu," he chuckled, his eyes full of mirth.

Whilst still laughing, Regulus subtly twisted the wand at his side and cast "imperio" once again, hardly giving Rabastan a moment to recover. This time he put all of his effort into willing Rabastan to surrender his wand to Regulus.

Rabastan thought nothing of Regulus's inability. The younger wizard was capable and keen. He had no doubt that he would master his challenges soon enough, and he understood that personal circumstances could affect one's efficiency. He did not approve of permitting emotions to cloud efforts, but not everyone could discard them as stoically as himself.

The spell washed over him. Sweet ecstasy pervaded his mind with the type of addictive peace that could be oh-so tempting to indulge. This curse brought no pain, but its potency should not be underestimated. There were worse things than agony. The Imperius was like a siren's call, summoning its victim to their untimely demise with nothing but exquisite calm. It felt almost like a warmth and he did not resist, having no desire to throw the spell aside. He had wanted to see what Regulus could do, so his mind was open and his heart felt freely.

Executing the pirouettes with a skill he definitely did not normally possess, he suddenly snorted, disturbing the spell by thinking of how ridiculous he must have appeared. It broke the curse, and for a moment he wobbled one one leg, losing all of his non-existing balletic expertise while loudly laughing.

"I'm sorry, Regulus," he wheezed, straightening up and staring at the other wizard. "That was very good, but I suddenly realised how stupid I must look."

Regulus sometimes felt like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he wasn't sure what to do with that feeling. It wasn't as if there was anything he could put down to make it easier - he enjoyed his job, so he was hesitant to let go of his work. He could hardly step away from the cause that he had pledged his life to, and since Sirius had turned his back on their family, his parents had doubled down on ensuring that Regulus stayed on the right path. Their focus was stifling, and it had hardly lessened since Regulus moved out to live alone. All he could do was his best, and Regulus was terrified that his best wasn't good enough.

Enter Rabastan, a mentor Regulus had turned to when his eldest cousin's attention became too much. He was grateful, truly, and yet Regulus knew that he shouldn't need extra tuition to be able to cast an unforgivable. He was the male heir to the House of Black, and he couldn't cast an unforgivable without his stomach churning...it was pathetic, and he knew it. "Yes, the imperius curse...I've never managed to do it strongly before," he said, twirling his wand between his fingers. He nodded at the instruction, and he could almost hear his mother's high pitched voice shrieking that he had to mean it.

Summoning the anger and anxiety that was always simmering beneath the surface of his emotions, Regulus turned his wand towards Rabastan. "Imperio," Regulus cursed, willing Rabastan to do some ballet pirouettes.

Rabastan liked the youngest Black. It had been with an unusual generosity that he'd taken Regulus under his wing when he'd joined the Death Eaters. There was something akin to recognition in the act. He'd seen something in Regulus that resonated. Perhaps it was his position as the second son of a noble house, and the weighty expectation that came with that status. Rabastan did not think on it. He was merely willing to give Regulus his time.

He had of course set the enchantments already. But rather than extinguish the other wizard's enthusiasm, he permitted him to add his own spells to the mix, watching all the while and judging his choices. He approved. Regulus was cautious and thorough.

"You'll learn," he replied, stepping closer. A smile drifted his lips fleetingly, fading as quickly as the breeze that passed through the glade where they stood. There was no need for a mask, here. Nothing would get through the spells without him knowing about it in good time. "So, the Imperius Curse? Cast it on me first. Let me see what you can do." Then he slowly grinned, wickedly and full of mirth. "Just don't make me do anything too absurd."

If there was any apprehension running through his veins about the evening's upcoming events, Regulus did his best to banish them long before he apparated into the forest clearing. It had been drummed into him at a young age that anything other than blatant confidence was weakness, and weakness was to be punished. Indeed, when he turned around to face Rabastan, there was no hint of the complicated mess going on inside Regulus' brain to be seen. He nodded curtly at his mentor, before gesturing around the clearing. "Have you set protective enchantments around the area?" Reg asked, hardly waiting for a response before he began muttering spells beneath his breath. Whilst Regulus was fairly confident that they could take a few aurors between them, it would do no good for their cover if they were to be found. "Thanks for agreeing to help today...I'm not...well, I'm not the best at unforgivables," he said, his tone almost sheepish. @r-lestrcnge