This story is dedicated to the prince of everything dark and gruesome, Nightmare Prince.

Reincarnation

"So as through a glass and darkly, the age long strife I see,

Where I fought in many guises, many names, but always me."

—General George S. Patton

The smash of metal against wood.

A flash of silver.

The stench of blood and wine.

And then there was the screaming.

-oOo-

"Nightmares?"

He nodded and caressed his head in his hands. When he felt a warm palm on his knee, he glanced to the side to see brown eyes shimmering with concern.

"Have you told anybody about them?"

"No. Just you."

She hesitated for a moment before asking, "When did they start?"

"Remember that record I told you I bought at an antique sale in Muggle London?"

"Oh, Albus—"

"I know," he sighed, cutting her off. "I've already checked it for curses and Dark Magic and everything."

"And?"

"And nothing." He threw his arms in the air. "There's nothing wrong with it. But I'm more than certain that it has something to do with these weirdly specific nightmares."

Her brows creased into a thoughtful frown as she deliberated on what he had said. "Maybe you should go see a professional."

"Rose," he snapped, rising to his feet. "I've already said I won't."

"Then what do you plan on doing?"

He picked up the old record from the table and eyed his reflection on it. "For now, I'm going to go take a nap."

-oOo-

"Do you plan on spending the rest of your days moping by the window, brother?"

He glanced over his shoulder as she stepped into the waning light, the pearls that adorned her auburn hair looking as though they were aflame.

"Perhaps," he answered as he returned his gaze to the sprawling garden below.

He heard the rustle of skirts against the marble floor as she made her way to him. There was a click and the whine of the record player, followed by the soothing melody of a melancholic voice he knew all too well. He waved one hand as he pressed the other to his temple. "Turn that wretched thing off this instant."

"I refuse," came the immediate reply. He heaved a great sigh, his shoulders slumping from the exhaustion of having to mourn for his late consort. A moment later cool fingers slipped into his unkempt raven locks, gently massaging his burning scalp, and he felt himself relax against her, his eyes fluttering shut.

"She really is gone, isn't she?" he murmured, not wanting an answer.

"That she is," came the dreaded reply, and he heaved an anguished sigh as he wrapped an arm around his sister's slim waist and pulled her close.

Looking up into glittering brown eyes, he asked, "But you will never leave me, will you?"

She smiled genially down at him, yet she did not answer. He tightened his grip around her, digging his nails into her side, and saw her wince from the sharp pain he knew he was causing her. "Will you?" he all but demanded, and for a moment fear seemed to flicker across her deep brown eyes, but it was gone soon after.

A small smile spread across her pale face and she shook her head. "Never."

-oOo-

"I think I found something."

He looked up from the parchments and books scattered before him as Rose came to sit on the armchair opposite his.

"Here it is," she said as she scanned the contents of a rather small piece of parchment in her hand. "The bodies of the royal siblings, Lyla and Albert Dirune, were found at the bottom of a pit at the back of the cellars of the ruins of Dirune Castle a little over a century ago. They were believed to be slain by the princess' lover, a renowned craftsman, who, in his madness, then locked himself in the cellar and set himself ablaze, leading to the castle eventually burning to the ground. The siblings' bodies escaped the fire due to the sheer depth of the pit they were discarded in. Archaeologists have successfully managed to unearth a sculpture that they claim is of the princess, and have laid the case of a three hundred year old murder to rest."

"This happened three hundred years ago?" he asked, the disbelief clear in his voice. He leaned forwards in his seat, curiosity pulsing in his veins. "What else does it say?"

Rose flipped the worn parchment over and looked at it from all angles before shrugging. "That's all."

"No, no," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "There has to be something else." He rose to his feet and began to pace, all the while making vague motions with his hands. "Like… say the prince's wife. Or a lover. Or—I don't know, anything!"

His cousin watched him with eyes full of pity. "Al," she said in a soft, soothing voice, "I think you should go speak with someone else about this—someone who can help."

He halted abruptly in his pacing and rounded on her. "You think I'm mad, don't you?" he asked, his voice shrill. "You think I'm off my rocker."

"No, I didn't say that. I'm just saying—"

"Well, thanks for all your help," he snapped as he gathered up all the research material and pulled his coat off the back of his chair. "I thought you, of all people, would understand," he told her as he prepared to Disapparate.

"Al," she began, the desperation clear in her voice, but he was already spinning on the spot, unwilling to listen to her excuses.

-oOo-

"Stephan Huntington?"

"Yes, my liege. He is a renowned craftsman who travels the world in search of the most flawless piece of art, leaving behind a legacy of perfection in his wake."

He scoffed. "And what would an infamous artisan such as himself want from the prince of a nearly forgotten kingdom?"

"He would want the honour of being able to hand-craft an idol of the princess in all her beauty," said a deep voice. A man stepped out from behind the jade curtains adorning the prince's chambers, his platinum hair shimmering in the flickering light of the torches. "My prince," he said, bowing so deep that his long, straight locks brushed the floor.

"When you say princess, I assume you refer to my late wife?" he questioned as he eyed the man standing before him with disdain.

The blond's eyes widened and he placed a hand to his chest. "Forgive me, for I had not known. There has been talk far and wide of the princess' beauty, and I travelled a great distance to be able to see her splendour with my own eyes."

Moved by the compliments to his late bride and the man's dedication to his art, the prince waved to his attendant. "Bring forth Lyla. We cannot send this man back empty-handed."

When his sister stepped into the room a few minutes later, the prince motioned towards her and smiled at the artisan. "Although I cannot give you what you have travelled so far for, perhaps I can offer you a substitute. However, I cannot assure you that my sister will be able to provide whatever it is you seek."

The princess cleared her throat, shooting a glare his way as she turned to fix the artisan with a serene smile. "I am quite unsure of how I may be of service to you, but perhaps you will find me of some use."

She made her way down the steps of the landing to stand before the artisan, who got down on one knee and kissed the hand offered to him. Looking up at her with eyes full of reverence, he murmured, "Your grace is more than I could ask for."

He watched as his sister led her newfound playmate away, but he could not stop the anxiety that clung to him at the way each would steal glances at the other every so often.

-oOo-

"I dunno, Al. Sounds like a load of balderdash to me."

He sighed as he eyed his best friend and sister and tried to contain his irritation. Scorpius tossed a photograph of a sculpture onto the table and sat back with a shrug. "I think Rose is right, mate. These nightmares are screwing with your head."

"Look," he said in a strained voice as he pointed at the picture. "Look at this and tell me it doesn't resemble Lily."

Scorpius shared a glance with Lily and they both leaned forwards to eye the photograph before the latter shrugged and said, "I don't see it, Al. The sculpture's crumbling so bad that you can barely tell the head from the torso, let alone identify it as a person."

"No, you're just not seeing it," he said, irritated. Grabbing the photograph, he plucked his Self-Inking Quill from inside his pocket and began to outline the picture. "Look, see?" He showed them the image, drawing around the edges with the back of the quill. "Isn't it much clearer now?"

The two only shared another concerned look before turning back to him. "Al," Lily said, placing a hand on his knee. "I know you've been going through a rough patch ever since your break up with Cynthia—"

"This has got nothing to do with that!"

"—but I really think this is becoming an unhealthy obsession."

He nodded his head and stood. "Right. I got it. You don't believe me either."

"Albus, come on," Scorpius said, standing up as well. "Were you listening to yourself this whole time? Do you actually expect us to believe that you think we're the reincarnations of some prince and princess? It sounds completely mental, mate."

"No," he said as he rummaged inside the folder where he kept all of his research material. Finding the photograph he wanted, he showed it to the duo. "Look. Look at this picture. Tell me that the royal siblings don't look like Lily and me, and that the artisan doesn't look like you."

Scorpius took the photo and scrutinised it for a long moment before handing it over to Lily. She did the same before sighing in defeat and saying, "I don't know, Al. Maybe I can see why you would think so because we have the same hair colour, but other than that I really don't see the resemblance."

"Then you're not looking hard enough!" he yelled, grabbing the picture and all but shoving it in his sister's face.

"Whoa," Scorpius said, stepping in-between them. "Easy there, mate."

He looked from the sceptical frown on Scorpius's face to the worried one on Lily's and shook his head. "You're just not seeing it," he choked out desperately, waving the picture.

"I'm sorry, Al," Lily said, but didn't move from behind Scorpius. "But I don't know what to tell you."

Heaving a sigh, he nodded, packed up his things, and said, "Well, guess that means I'm on my own, then."

"What—no, Al!" Lily came around her boyfriend and tried to grab Albus's hand as he began to Disapparate, but she was too late.

-oOo-

"Lyla?" he called as he entered his sister's chambers. There was no answer, and his voice echoed eerily through the large room. "Lyla, where are you?"

Ever since that craftsman had arrived in Dirune Castle, he only ever caught a glimpse or two of his sister during mealtimes. She seemed to spend an awful lot of time with that blond beast, who seemed to be under the impression that he was a permanent resident of the castle, refusing to leave even after the sculpture had been completed.

"Lyla!" he yelled, his frustration piquing, and just as he exited her chambers and rounded the corner to her private gardens, he heard a delighted peal of laughter coming from the direction of the stone fountains.

Storming down the cobblestoned path, he was prepared to give her a piece of his mind when he heard the sound of a male voice. Halting abruptly, he walked over to the nearest tree and peered around it, his heart skipping a beat when he spotted none other than the pale-faced craftsman, whose head was resting in his sister's lap. She was combing his long locks of hair as he narrated yet another tale of his adventures.

When the princess laughed again, he had had enough. Storming out from his hiding place, he cleared his throat to make his presence known. The two sprang apart, at least having the courtesy to look embarrassed. He marched over to his sister, grabbed her by the wrist, and dragged her back to her chambers, ignoring her protestations the entire time.

"Brother!" she finally gasped when they stopped, pulling her arm from his vicelike grip. "What is the matter with you?"

"What is the matter with me?" he spat, rounding on her. "I should be the one asking you that! How dare you get close to that snake and allow him to touch you and make you laugh in that manner!"

Anger flashed in her dark eyes and she stuck her nose in the air, sniffing disdainfully. "Well, forgive me for being happy and finding someone with whom I can be myself."

"You already have such a person," he hissed as he stepped close to her, their faces inches apart. "You already have me! Or have you forgotten your promise to me already?"

She inhaled deeply, the hurt and betrayal in her eyes barely affecting him in his anger. "I did not think that you intended me to sacrifice my happiness for your sake."

"Neither did I intend for Julia to die! But she did, did she not? So I don't see why you should have a choice, either."

"You are mad," she spat.

Turning on her heel, she stormed out of the room, leaving him to yell after her; "I'll show you that bastard's true nature, just you wait!"

-oOo-

He smiled at Lily as she sat down in the chair opposite his. They didn't speak till they had ordered for some tea and scones, and the waitress had placed their food before them.

"Thanks for coming after…" he trailed off, waving his hand.

She smiled sadly at him and shook her head. "I'm glad you wrote to me. Everyone's been worried sick ever since you up and disappeared two months ago."

He laughed drily as he watched the tea swirl in his cup. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that."

"No, it's fine." She leaned forwards and asked, "So, how've you been?"

He nodded. "Oh, I've been fine. Since I quit my job and took some time off, I started to see things in perspective."

"Oh," she said, looking relieved. "Oh, that's wonderful."

He nodded again. "Yeah. Because of which I made a whole lot of progress with the record and the story from three hundred hears ago."

Fear flickered across her eyes and he noticed that her grip on her teacup had tightened, but he was too eager to share his news with someone to dwell on it. "You know how I started to get nightmares when I listened to that record, right?" She nodded. "Well, I figured out that the reason it sparked those memories was because the person singing is Prince Albert's late wife, Julia."

Lily frowned, her cheeks having gone pale, and shook her head. "What…memories? I thought you said they were nightmares."

"Right, yeah," he said, waving his hand. "Sure, nightmares, memories, whatever you'd like to call them. The point is that I finally found a connection that helps me prove to you that I was right!"

Seeing the confusion on her face, he continued quickly, "Don't you get it? Julia was Albert's late wife and I'm Albert. Hence, listening to Julia's record made me remember what happened to me in my past life!"

Lily had drawn back since he'd started to speak, and she kept shaking her head. She almost seemed frightened of him, but he couldn't understand why. "Look, I know this is all too overwhelming to swallow right away," he said as he reached out and placed his hand on hers. "But don't you think it makes sense, now? If I'm Albert, and I most definitely am, if you've been listening to anything I've been saying, then his sister, Princess Lyla, is obviously you! So that means the artisan who Lyla is smitten with, and whom Albert loathes, has got to be Scorpius!"

Lily laughed shakily and pulled her hand away. "Well, see, that's where your story falls apart."

"How so?"

"Well, for starters, the fact that Scorpius is your best friend and not someone you hate should be enough, don't you think?" she asked, her voice shrill.

He nodded, having expected that argument. "A very valid point," he said, giving her an endearing smile. "But you see, I used to dislike Scorpius before."

"When?" she demanded.

"Well, before I knew him well enough." When she didn't look convinced, he said, "Oh, and when he told me the two of you were seeing each other."

"This is complete nonsense," she said, rising to her feet. "So you're telling me that just because some prince from three hundred years ago hated his sister's lover because he had come sort of complex about her that you now hate your best friend?"

He shrugged, feeling surprisingly calm. She pursed her lips, eyes flashing and cheeks flushed, and said, "I honestly intended to apologise to you for how I behaved the last time around and reconcile with you, but you seem to be beyond all reason. Goodbye, Albus. Come talk to me when you've got your head over your shoulders again and are ready to apologise to both me and Scorpius."

She stormed away, and then spun around and stomped back. "Also," she said, jabbing him in the shoulder with her finger, "I don't know what reason your Prince Albert had for hating Stephan, but I'm sure the man really and truly loved Lyla, and if Albert really cared about his sister at all, he would have just left them be."

So saying, she marched away, leaving him calling after her; "I'll prove you wrong still, dear sister!"

-oOo-

"My prince? What in the world are you doing here?"

He spun around at the sound of the voice he loathed so much and tightened his grip on the mallet in his hand. "Why, hello," he said through gritted teeth, shivering slightly at the way the artisan's snakelike eyes shone in the dark. "I should be asking you the same thing."

"This is where I keep my sculptures," the man said as he stepped out from the shadows, a jeering smile on his pale face. "Besides, isn't it past his highness's bed time?"

Feeling his anger overflow, he inhaled deeply and decided that he would finish the deed before he had a change of heart. "It is. But, you see, I've been plagued by nightmares where a vile, conniving man tries to entice my beloved sister into doing something she would regret."

"Is that man, perhaps, the same one you see when you look in the mirror?" the artisan asked as he stepped forwards.

The prince barked out a laugh and held up the mallet, his lips curling into a sneer when he saw the other man's eyes widen in fear. "You would think so, wouldn't you?"

"My prince," the blond said, holding his hands up, "I know you despise me, and I must admit that I am not particularly fond of you either, but think of your sister. Think of Lyla. Do you think she would want this? Do you really want this?"

"I am thinking of Lyla! I have been thinking of no one but Lyla since the very start! I made a mistake choosing Julia over her despite knowing the former barely had any life left to live. But now! Now, I shan't make the same mistake! Lyla is mine! Now and forevermore!"

With an animal-like roar he charged, brandishing the mallet over his head. Stephan yelped and jumped to the side, the hammer missing him by a hair. "Stop it!" he screamed as he continued to dodge the prince's blows. "You're mad!"

"I will not hand Lyla to you!" the prince shrieked as he swung the mallet at the barrel the blond was taking cover behind, revelling at the resounding smash of metal against wood. "Do not dare presume that I will let you have her!"

"What in heaven's name is going on?"

The two paused mid-battle to see a bedraggled Lyla watch them with wide, fearful eyes. "Ah, Lyla," he began, making towards her, but his sister paid him no heed as she ran to her lover.

"Stephan!" she cried, gingerly placing an arm around him and pulling him to his feet. "Oh, my love." She turned to the prince, angry tears spilling down her cheeks. "How dare you! I would have forgiven you if your unfounded hate remained as it were, but this? You are mad! You have lost your mind!"

He laughed, an evil, cackling sound that spilled past his lips, as he made his way towards the couple. "I won't let you have her," he spat, swinging the mallet. "Die, you fiend!"

"No!"

It happened in the blink of an eye, but before he knew what was happening, Lyla had pushed Stephan out of the way, and the mallet that had escaped from the prince's grasp struck her atop the head, causing her to fall back against the cluster of sticks that were placed over the rubbish pit, her bloodcurdling scream echoing through the night as her body crashed down into it.

"No," he gasped as he collapsed to his knees beside the pit, eyeing the limp form of his sister lying at bottom, broken and unmoving. "No!"

There was shuffling behind him, and he looked up to see silver eyes blazing with hatred, tears streaming down pale cheeks. Teeth bared and mallet raised over his head, Stephan was screaming, his anguished voice cutting deep into the prince's soul, and even as he saw the flash of silver as the hammer came down on him, a twisted smile spread across his face.

He felt his skull crack and the blood flowed down his face, his body free-falling down into the abyss and landing beside his sister's. As his vision went in and out of focus, his ears ringing with the artisan's pained screams, the last thought in his mind was that although things had not gone according to plan, he had got what he had wanted: Lyla was his, and his alone, for all eternity.

-oOo-

"Al! Albus, hang on! Don't give up on me now, Al. Come on. Come on!"

His vision cleared to fall upon frantic silver eyes and dishevelled platinum hair. "—orpius?" he rasped, his lungs burning.

"Oh, thank heavens! Lily! Lily, he's awake!"

There was some shuffling and splashing, and his sister's face appeared before him. Her pale cheeks were stained with tears, her eyes were red, and she pressed a hand to her mouth and sobbed, grabbing onto Scorpius with the other. "Oh, you idiot of a brother," she wailed, wrapping her arms around him.

He coughed. "Can't—breathe—"

She let go of him, and he felt his body rise up into the air and out of the cold water, his damp clothes clinging to him. Teeth chattering, he couldn't help but shiver, and before he knew it, he was wrapped in something warm. He could hear a loud, gushing sound as hot air was blown at his head, tousling his wet hair, and he could hear muffled voices constantly talking to him, although he couldn't make out the words.

He eyed his wrists, both of which had fat bandages wrapped around them, and he wondered what had happened.

Had he tried to kill himself?

Why?

From the corner of his eye he saw someone run inside, the familiar bush of red hair washing a wave of relief over him. "Rose," he rasped, and she was by his side in an instant, tears pooling in her brown eyes.

"Oh, Albus," she whispered, taking his face in her hands. "I'm sorry I didn't destroy that vile record the very first time you brought it to me. But, rest assured, it's shattered into smithereens, now."

He frowned, but it was too much of an effort so he gave up. "Record?" he managed after a minute, and Rose and Lily exchanged a glance.

"Al," Lily said softly, kneeling before him. "Don't you remember?"

"—member what?"

The two looked at each other again, and Scorpius's voice replaced the loud gushing sound behind him. "Isn't it fine, this way? Better that he's forgotten than if he remembers."

Rose and Lily nodded, and they held his hands and sat with him till he felt himself slip into unconsciousness.

-oOo-

"Can't believe it's been a whole year since then," Lily said as she hooked her arm through his and Scorpius's.

"Can't believe my baby sister's getting married to my best mate," he muttered as he intertwined his fingers with hers.

"You don't hate me, do you?" Scorpius asked.

Albus scoffed, but when he turned to see the two of them eyeing him wearily, he said, "Hell, no! I'm the happiest man alive!"

Scorpius and Lily looked at each other and laughed awkwardly, making Albus quirk an eyebrow at them.

"Oh, here we are!" Lily exclaimed as they spotted the shop that sold the particular ornaments she wanted. She skipped ahead and then called over her shoulder, "Hurry up! We haven't got all day!"

"Coming," Scorpius called back, shooting Albus a look. The latter laughed and clapped the blond on the shoulder, pointing at a small lane beside the shop.

"I'll just be around here, waiting to hear all about the pretty fake flowers and bulbs that you bought."

Scorpius rolled his eyes and flipped Albus the bird as he hurried into the store, leaving the latter to adventure into the shady-looking alleyway.

"Why, hello, young sir," an old hag who had skin that looked like wrinkled leather said, motioning for him to come closer. "Looking for anything in particular, are we?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head, but she managed to catch the hem of his coat and tugged. "Hey!"

"Look, look what we've got," she said in her squeaky voice, gesturing to the broken trinkets and whatnot she had on display.

He was about to walk away when something caught his eye. He reached forwards and picked the disk up, scrutinising it to make sure it was genuine. "Say," he said, holding it out to her. "What's this?"

"Oh, splendid choice, sir! You really have an eye for the best! Splendid indeed! That," she said, taking the disc and placing it in a lopsided player beside her, "is a three hundred year old record that was found in the ruins of a castle whose name I can't recall."

He was about to walk away after hearing her tall tale, but the record clicked and began to play, and something about the slow, melancholic melody made him feel an odd sense of familiarity.

"A three hundred year old record, was it?" he asked, moving closer to the player, as though drawn to it. "That should have an interesting story behind it."

"Oh, yes. Yes, indeed!" She offered him a rickety stool and he sat down on it, his head filled with the sound of the woman's woeful melody.

"The story, you see," the hag was saying, her face too close to his for comfort. "It all began with a pair of royal siblings who were murdered in cold blood by an evil man with silver hair…"

A/n: So while I was sick and bed-ridden, I ended up watching some random movie on TV and it inspired this story. I wrote this while I was high on meds and with a rather high temperature, so I'm hoping it's turned out half as decent as I think it has xD

Thanks for reading!

Lots of love~

Arty xx