#though im not that good at keeping my microfics micro it seems

[kalegreeneyes]

February 3 - King - 1218 words - @jegulus-microfic

“It isn’t fair,” Regulus hisses under his breath as he watches his brother work the room from a secluded corner. He just needed a break from all the pomp and circumstance following Sirius’s coronation. “He doesn’t even want to be king!”

“And you do?” a voice murmurs far too close to Regulus’s ear for comfort. It makes the downy hairs on the back of his neck stand up and goosebumps prickle down his skin. 

Regulus whips his head around, face heating up as he goes. He had made sure he was alone over here. Apparently not. His shoulders drop when he sees who it is–James Potter has never been, and will never be, a threat to him. 

“Not that it is any of your business,” Regulus starts, trying to take on an air of nonchalance, “but yes. I do. I believe myself to be infinitely more suited to rule a kingdom than him.” 

James Potter, the heir apparent to the crown of his own kingdom, an ever present thorn in Regulus’s side, looks at him in a way he has never known James Potter to look. It is nervous, bordering on desperate. Regulus does not like it, and he draws back to observe. The fragile glass full of some expensive alcohol that Regulus is holding but will not drink sloshes as he leans to take in James’ body language.

“What is it, Potter?” Regulus asks, finding himself oddly nervous. He rather enjoys the predictability of James Potter. He finds himself suddenly having to worry for the first time whether James Potter is a threat to him; if perhaps he has revealed too much in his loose disdain for his brother’s rise to power.

“You can rule my kingdom,” James says, all in a hurry as if he’s afraid he won’t get the words out if they don’t come all at once.

Regulus arches a high, delicate brow, then can’t help himself but to laugh. It’s a bright, airy thing, and James Potter licks his lips. “Have you lost your mind?” Regulus asks. “It isn’t becoming of you to make such a cheap attempt at humour.”

James steps forwards to once again invade Regulus’s space. Regulus’s eyes dart around the room to make sure that no one is observing them. He’d loathe to cause a scandal over such nonsense. James follows his movement to catch his eyes again, all but forcing him to pay attention with the intensity in his gaze.

“I’m not attempting to make you laugh, Your Highness, as beautiful a sound as it is. I believe you to be more than fit to rule–my kingdom would be all the better to have you at the helm.” James insists, warm fingers brushing against Regulus’s as he takes the glass from him and sets it on the nearby table.

“And what would you do, then?” Regulus asks incredulously, still unable to believe this is anything but a farce.

“Well, if you’d allow me, I would stand proudly at your side for the rest of my days. I would be there to support you in any way you might require. It is my kingdom, after all; I can do what I want with it. I would like to give it to you.” James’ face betrays no amusement, no doubt. Uncertainty, yes, but that seems to be hinging on Regulus’s reaction.

Regulus’s mouth drops open, which is not very proper, but he cannot help it. He can’t believe James is actually serious about this. “And what a fortuitous match that would be for you, yes? I'm sure your parents would be thrilled if you returned home with the spare heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black to become your prince consort,” he hisses in a protective sort of disbelief. “Surely you aren’t suggesting-”

“Regulus,” James cuts him off, the pleading look in his eyes only growing more fervent. “I implore you to listen to me because I speak only the truth. I have loved you for as long as I have known you. My parents would be glad for the match not for what you can offer, but rather because of the joy and contentment it would bring me. I have been wholly and truly yours for years, even if you have not been aware of it. Though, I must admit, I didn’t think I had been subtle about my desire,” he says, with such conviction that Regulus has no choice but to believe him.

Regulus’s mouth drops open and snaps shut over and over for a moment while he tries to figure out a way to respond. He hasn’t the slightest idea where to even start. Eventually, he settles on, “I always assumed you were teasing me.”

James glances furtively around them before daring to take Regulus’s hand, obscured by the table in front of them. It is a solid feeling, one that grounds Regulus firmly into the moment. “No, never. Never about this. I couldn’t. Regulus, please, I cannot keep up the pretense that I am a truly proper man any longer. I understand that this is not the proper way to court someone, let alone to propose, but I cannot stand here and watch you wallow in your envy while knowing that I’ve been planning to offer you everything for as long as I can remember. Will you have me? Say you’ll have me.”

Regulus’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. His own hand trembles within James’ grasp. “I will not marry you simply to rule your kingdom, if that is what you’re implying. I do not take offers of courtship based on such cold, material things, and I could not live with myself if I were to take advantage of your affections for my own personal gain.”

James’ expression falters. There is a note of pain; his eyes seem to grow glassier than they had been before. “I was rather hoping that you would return my affections. It is mere coincidence that I found you here lamenting your brother’s crowning.”

Regulus swallows, his stuffy formal attire doing nothing to assuage the heat licking at his neck. “I will not rule your kingdom for you because you pity me for having to watch mine go to a man who loathes it,” he says, and then it is his turn to hold onto James’ gaze; his hand. “However, I will rule by your side, together, if to be with me is what you truly wish. As you said earlier, I have been wholly and truly yours for years, even if you have not been aware of it.” 

The pain in James’ expression fades, replaced by disbelief of his own, followed by a blinding kind of joy that seems to exist only within James Potter. “Truly?”

“Truly,” Regulus laughs, squeezing James’ hand to ground him in the moment too. 

“I do believe it is time to bestow you with a new title, Your Highness,” James grins.

“And what might that be?” Regulus asks, doing his level best to fight a grin of his own.

“King of my heart,” James says, and it is so incredibly sappy and unfunny that Regulus has no choice but to laugh and laugh.

He knows now that he will be laughing like this for the rest of his life.