Chapter Text
The trip to see Bucky’s mentor was undoubtedly the longest, most painstaking journey he’d ever undertaken.
Why in the Heavens did ex-Arch Mage Master Erskine decide to settle down and retire in some nameless, faraway village instead of staying in the capital and enjoying all the luxuries it had to offer?
Maybe that was exactly the reason why. It was away from the royal capital, away from tiresome political disputes and definitely far away from the whole collection of snobby nobles that loved nothing more than to throw parties and flaunt their wealth in the face of the poor.
But at the same time, Bucky had been treading through the endless woods for more than a month now, and the end was still nowhere in sight.
Did he make a wrong turn somewhere?
He double-checked the golden compass given to him by his Master again, and yes, he was still dutifully following the white Light arrow as per dictated by the magicked compass.
Just like he’d been doing for the last month, Bucky reminded himself with a sigh.
Nothing but endless rows of practically indistinguishable trees and sharp prickly branches that snagged onto his white mage cloak more often than not.
He couldn’t even have the company of a horse on his journey, because animals had a tendency to avoid mages, so it had been just him, alone, wandering in the forest for a whole entire month.
A chilly breeze blew through right then, and Bucky instinctively hugged his cloak closer to himself.
Everyone knew Lightmages hated the cold. They thrived in the warmth, under the bright sun. Quite opposite that of a Darkmage, of course, though Bucky’s thoughts didn’t exactly want to linger long on such a sinister subject.
Another blast of cold air made Bucky wince, and he summoned a spark of magic with a snap of his fingers, strengthening the magic barrier over himself. The cold lessened slightly, and Bucky heaved a sigh of relief.
He checked his compass yet again and resumed his trek through the woods, enduring the occasional blast of cold air as he went.
Then all of a sudden, a loud rustling noise caught his attention, and he froze.
Direwolves weren’t uncommon in these woods, though they usually had enough sense to leave mages alone. A rabid one, on the other hand…
The rustling noise came again, and Bucky jerked his head to the right, readying his magic for a fight.
Then–
A young man suddenly stepped forward from behind one of the trees.
The man had piercing blue eyes and a head of golden hair. He was dressed in a simple grey tunic, soft leather boots, and a long black cloak.
Bucky’s eyes widened. The man’s eyes similarly widened at the sight of him, and that was the exact moment Bucky’s eyes fell upon the man’s outstretched palm, where an unmistakable shadow flame danced above.
Dark magic.
What in the Heavens was a Darkmage doing here?!
There wasn’t time to think, and Bucky instantly conjured a series of Light shards and sent them flying towards the Darkmage, aiming straight for the heart.
The Darkmage jumped into action immediately as well, lunging to the side to dodge. Bucky didn’t give him the chance to regain his bearings, sending another flurry of Light shards in his direction.
The Darkmage gritted his teeth, raising a hand in response. Dark shadow flames erupted to life, melting away Bucky’s Light within a split second.
Bucky let loose his next attack with a flick, raining down a volley of Light shards onto the man.
The Darkmage conjured up a Dark barrier, expanding it outwards. The Light shards disintegrated upon impact, and Bucky blinked in surprise.
There weren’t many who could defend against Bucky’s signature piercing magic. It was a technique first developed and taught to him by his Master, before Bucky perfected it with years of practice and made it strong enough to be able to pierce straight through fortified steel.
Whoever this Darkmage was, he was skilled. Powerful. A threat.
Bucky gritted his teeth as he changed tactics, compressing his magic into powerful explosive orb bubbles instead, lobbing them at the Darkmage.
The Darkmage dodged the first blast, then countered the second bubble with a shadow barrier.
Bucky continued raining down blow after blow, while the Darkmage either dodged or blocked every single one of them.
It should have probably occurred to Bucky that not once did the Darkmage actually send out an attack of his own, but Bucky was too preoccupied with trying everything he could to take down this unexpected foe before him.
Bucky’s attacks grew in ferocity, and the Darkmage continued to defend himself against every blow, until finally, enough was enough . Bucky raised both hands, summoning every ounce of magic he could muster and compressing it down into a deceptively small ball.
With a yell, he fired off the magic blast.
The Darkmage was quick to conjure one of his shadow shields, but it was clear he underestimated Bucky’s power.
The shield instantly shattered on impact, and the Darkmage was tossed back like a ragdoll, slamming into a tree with a sickening crack.
The Darkmage let out a hiss of pain, and Bucky immediately seized the opportunity, drawing up from the last stores of his magic to bind the Darkmage.
Crystallised Light magic wrapped around the Darkmage’s wrists and ankles, locking his limbs in place. The Darkmage attempted to summon some of his own magic to break free, but Bucky wrapped a collar of magic around the Darkmage’s neck threateningly, tightening just enough to make him choke and force him to release his magic.
“Who are you?” Bucky demanded. “What are you doing here?”
The Darkmage merely stared at him with those piercing blue eyes of his, decidedly not saying a word.
Bucky tightened the magic around the Darkmage’s neck, causing him to choke again.
“Tell me!”
The man stubbornly said nothing, looked away even, and Bucky was just about to tighten the collar even more when–
“That’s enough!”
The magic binding the Darkmage suddenly snapped from an external counteracting force, and Bucky stumbled back in surprise, jerking around.
And there he was, standing in his full glory, an elderly man with an imposing white cloak layered with gold threading, only bestowed upon a select few. Master Erskine, ex-Arch Mage and arguably the most powerful Lightmage in the world, who also happened to be Bucky’s Master, the very person he’d travelled one month through a gloomy forest looking for.
“Master?”
His Master barely even looked at him, choosing instead to walk briskly towards the Darkmage, now freed and gasping on the ground.
“Are you alright?” Master Erskine asked, surprisingly gentle, placing a hand on the Darkmage’s shoulder. Bucky startled at that, entirely caught off guard.
The Darkmage gave a small nod, though Bucky didn’t miss slight tightening in his jaw when he slowly got back up on his feet.
“Come on, we’d better get you checked out back at my house,” his Master said, and Bucky’s frown deepened. Surely his Master knew who this was, what he was. Surely he knew that he was a threat and an enemy.
“I’m fine,” the Darkmage said, the first words Bucky had heard him say. Not that he’d appreciate a Darkmage saying anything in the first place. He should be locked up, preferably executed.
Master Erskine sighed once, grabbing the Darkmage by the wrist and tugging him back in what Bucky assumed was the direction to his house. “Must you always be this stubborn? Come on now.”
“I’m fine,” the Darkmage repeated, not budging.
Master Erskine gave him a look—the look of disapproval that Bucky himself had been the target of almost daily when he was but a young apprentice sneaking out in the night and pulling childish pranks on his peers. It had never failed to make Bucky shrink a little into himself, mumbling a soft apology. The Darkmage too, seemed to feel some effect of it, and he relented with a sigh, allowing himself to be dragged along.
“You too, Bucky,” his master said after a brief second, finally addressing Bucky for the first time in nearly ten years since they last saw each other. “I know you’d love to get out of the cold.”
Bucky glanced up, briefly meeting the Darkmage’s stare and his master’s eyes.
The Darkmage’s expression was unreadable, but his master’s expression was clear. Eyebrows furrowed, eyes stern, as if daring Bucky to protest.
The awkward three-way stare lasted for a moment, but in the end, Bucky too gave in with a sigh, letting his hands drop to his side and trailing after his master and the Darkmage.
He was definitely going to need some answers about this.
~~~~~🟄~~~~~
Everyone knew the story.
For as long as the people could remember, the land had always been split between the Light and Dark kingdoms, locked in an eternal war against each other. They were natural opposites after all, and conflict was inevitable.
The Dark kingdom terrorised the lands with their powerful magic for centuries, until a peace treaty was finally drafted up between the kingdoms’ leaders, and thus began a few years of much needed peace.
It was good, while it lasted.
Then a new Dark king rose to power. Alexander Pierce, power-hungry and devious, he murdered the Light kingdom’s queen at the time, Margaret Carter, in the middle of her own birthday celebration.
War instantly erupted again, this time more vicious and ferocious than ever, a war that Bucky himself was personally a part of.
The Dark kingdom began their crusade of trying to conquer the Light, indiscriminately setting villages aflame with their shadow flames that ate up all life, leaving behind nothing but a charred wasteland. The Light kingdom similarly retaliated in return, sending their own Lightmages to defend the innocents and fight back against the Dark kingdom.
But they were no match for the ferocious Darkmages, and the Light kingdom started losing ground.
The Light kingdom needed more power to fight back on their own, and they scoured all the ancient temples, reading legendary scrolls and tomes, eventually learning of a powerful artifact lost in time that could help them defeat the Dark kingdom.
A shield, forged from the scales of now extinct dragons, strong enough to ward against the Dark kingdom’s powerful shadow flames.
They sent countless Lightmages out across the lands, searching far and wide for the legendary shield, and finally, Bucky’s own Master was the one who found it, high up in the mountains and buried deep within an ancient cave.
With the power of the shield, the Light kingdom could finally fight back, and though they were sorely lacking in numbers, they had far more resilience and will, and they gradually started retaking back the lands stolen from them by the Dark kingdom.
Eventually, after years of non-stop war, the Light kingdom stormed the Dark kingdom’s main stronghold in a final assault. The legendary shield was ultimately shattered in battle, but it had served its purpose, and the Light kingdom captured the Dark king, Alexander Pierce. The notorious king was publicly executed, and the Dark kingdom’s forces scattered and were quickly defeated soon after.
The Dark kingdom’s lands came under the control of the Light kingdom, and slowly but surely, they started to rebuild.
Peace came at long last, and a long decade passed since then. A decade without bloodshed and war, a peace that Bucky had fought so desperately for in the war himself, and he’d be damned if he let some rogue Darkmage go on his merry way and ruin all that.
~~~~~🟄~~~~~
Master Erskine was still the same as he’d been when Bucky last saw him ten years ago. He had more white in his hair, yes, but he still walked with the same imposing aura befitting of his status.
He guided the Darkmage and Bucky back to the small quaint village where he now resided, right smack in the middle of the forest beside a flowing stream. He greeted a few villagers as he walked by, most of them glancing curiously at Bucky before going on their way.
His Master walked down the streets, eventually coming to a small cottage with an apple tree at the front. It was a stark difference to the lavish mansion his Master used to own, but certainly more suited to his Master’s simple tastes.
His Master let them in and quickly ushered the Darkmage down in a chair just beside the fireplace.
“May I?” he asked.
The Darkmage looked like he wanted to protest, but he nodded when his Master gave him the look, and his Master gently pressed one hand over the Darkmage’s forehead, the other hand rested over his chest.
Both hands started to glow, and the Darkmage’s eyes slid shut, tension in his jaw slowly releasing as powerful healing Light magic was infused into him.
That was Light magic for you, peaceful, healing, so terribly unlike the shadow flames whose only purpose was to destroy. Dark magic could never hope to heal like Light magic did. It simply wasn’t in its nature.
After a long minute, his Master relaxed, removing his hands.
“Thank you,” the Darkmage said.
“You’re welcome,” his Master replied, before shooting the Darkmage the look of disapproval again. “Though I feel the need to remind you that ‘fine’ is certainly not an appropriate word to use when describing three broken ribs and a cracked wrist.”
The Darkmage looked away. “I heal fast.”
And his Master sighed, one of those long exasperated sighs that Bucky again was all too familiar with back when he was younger and full of mischief. “And like I’ve said many times, that’s no reason to quietly suffer in pain.”
The Darkmage didn’t respond, and his Master let out one of those exasperated sighs again. “You’ll be the death of me, Steve.”
Bucky sucked in a breath, eyes widening. Steve? The same Steve that his Master had written about constantly in his letters? The supposed young gardener who gave away his herbs for free to those who needed them? Who had an aptitude for finding rare mushrooms in the forest and cooking up hearty stews which he often shared with his Master? Who was always described as kind and humble and most definitely not a Darkmage?
Bucky didn’t understand this at all.
His Master finally glanced at Bucky, giving him an almost weary look. “It’s good to see you again, Bucky. I… suppose you must have many questions.”
Damn right he did. And where would he even start? But he supposed only one question really mattered. “Why is there a Darkmage here, Master?”
“His name is Steve,” his Master said. “He’s a friend.”
“You mean a Darkmage.”
His Master sighed yet again, this time one of the more weary sighs. He glanced between the two of them. “I had hoped to introduce you two in a more… controlled environment.”
Bucky frowned and shook his head. That still didn’t answer anything. “Master, why is a Darkma–”
“His name is Steve,” his Master said again, more firmly this time.
Bucky gritted his teeth. “Fine, then why is—” Bucky shot a glare at the Darkmage. “—Steve here? Haven’t you forgotten what the Dark kingdom did? The destruction they caused?”
The Darkmage tensed slightly at that, though Bucky chose to ignore it.
His Master opened his mouth, then closed it as he pondered over what words to say. Eventually, he turned to the Darkmage, softly saying something to which the Darkmage nodded, before he stood back up and made his exit through the main door.
When the door closed, his Master looked at Bucky again.
“Master—”
“Hear me out first, then you can have your say.”
Bucky went silent.
“I know this is going to be hard for you to understand, but Steve is a friend. He’s a Darkmage, yes, but he is not what you think he is. He doesn’t want to hurt you, or anyone. He just wants to live here in peace.”
Bucky had a great many things to say back about that, about the lies and sheer wrongness of it all, but he bit his lip and let his Master continue.
“What I said in my letters are all true. Steve is a kind and gentle soul, and he is a dear friend of mine. I told you in my letters that I thought you two could become close friends, and I still believe that. You did say once that you were looking forward to meeting him. I hope that sentiment hasn’t changed.”
“How can it not, when you conveniently neglected to mention he was a Darkmage, of all things?”
“Because I knew you would react exactly like how you’re reacting now,” his Master said with a resigned expression. “I know you undoubtedly have your own reservations about him now—all of which I can barely fault you for having—but surely some part of you can still trust my words and judgement?”
He trusted his Master with his life of course, his Master knew that.
And the letters—
There was barely a letter throughout their years of correspondence where his Master didn’t mention Steve in some way, shape or form. The early letters were full of curiosity about the quiet gardener, but they gradually evolved to be filled with respect, joy, even affection, and Bucky couldn’t help but grow curious about his Master’s mysterious new friend over the years.
But now that he knew that this… Steve was a deadly Darkmage, well, that put everything in a whole new perspective.
Just the mere knowledge that a Darkmage was close by, near his beloved Master and sharing the same space as all these innocent villagers, it was impossible not to imagine about all the horrible things that could happen—
An endless sea of black fire, searing heat, the village reduced to ash and dust.
Then the pungent smell of burning flesh, something Bucky wished he never had the privilege of knowing what it smelled like, but now it was forever imprinted into his memory. Wretched screams of the villagers left to a terrible fate of being burnt alive, for nothing could extinguish a Darkmage’s flames lest the Darkmage extinguished it themself, or if a Lightmage used counteracting magic to cancel it out, but how in the Heavens was it possible to put out so much fire? His magic was only so limited.
So many homes would be destroyed, so many innocent lives lost, and then—
A haunting memory suddenly came to mind. This one was of his fellow Lightmages—his friends—beaten up and bound to a post, displayed for all to see as they were cruelly set aflame by Darkmages wearing black cloaks who grinned and laughed at their pain, purposefully slowing the spread of the Dark flames just to prolong the Lightmages’ suffering.
It was the most horrific show of power and dominance. Bucky recalled how helpless he had felt then, unable to do anything but scream and cry, until enough was enough and someone finally broke and used their own Light magic to shoot a Light shard straight into their own friend’s chest, murdering them and ending their suffering at last.
It was him.
He was the one who killed them, screaming in sheer rage and despair as he killed each and every one of his friends just to save them from pure torture. He was the one who had to listen to the Darkmages laugh and cheer. He was the one with all that blood forever stained on his hands, unable to be washed away.
And now his Master was saying that one of those same Darkmages was kind and gentle, a friend, for Heaven’s sake.
Was this a joke? Had his Master finally gone insane? Had his Master completely forgotten about all those times when Bucky broke down sobbing in the middle of the night as he remembered what he did?
And then yet again, this was his Master, the same person who found Bucky at an orphanage bruised and malnourished, nothing but a hot-tempered brat at the time, and yet his Master had still chosen to give him a chance and take him in. His Master was the one who tirelessly sat through all his tantrums and gently but firmly chastised him whenever he did something wrong. His Master was the one that showed him kindness and affection when he was born with none, and taught Bucky control over his then chaotic Light magic gifts when everyone else thought him hopeless. His Master was the one that shaped him into the man he was today, taught him patience, taught him humility. He owed his Master everything.
“You are… asking a lot,” Bucky finally said after a long consideration.
“I realise that,” his Master said, voice softening. “But you must know that I did not make the decision to trust him lightly, and I certainly have not forgotten about all that had happened in the past either. What those Darkmages did in the war were all unspeakably horrible, but Steve is truly different. He didn’t do any of those things.”
“That you know of,” Bucky couldn’t help but say.
“I suppose so, but I honestly doubt he is capable of such things. I understand how hard it must be for you, after all that you had gone through, and I am well aware that nothing can sway your mind about him right now—” His Master reached out and grabbed both of Bucky’s hands, squeezing once. “—but while you’re here in the village, even if I cannot convince you to treat him kindly, could you, at the very least, be civil to him? Civil, of course, meaning ceasing any further attempt at ending his life.”
Civil.
Bucky had been perfectly civil towards a great many sleazy nobles in his life back in the capital when in truth he wanted to strangle every single one of them. It was one of the many reasons he left in the first place, choosing to seek out his Master and escape all those dreadful nobles.
He supposed… he could do civil.
It would be risky, no doubt, but he could be civil and keep a close eye on the Darkmage at the same time, ready to fight and stop him at a moment’s notice. Bucky had beaten him once in battle after all, and he could most certainly do it again and subdue him before he could cause any real harm.
“I…” It was Bucky’s turn to sigh. He truly didn’t want to promise anything. For all he knew, his Master had finally gone demented and the Darkmage was manipulating him for his own nefarious means. But his Master still was his Master, and Bucky was absolutely powerless to say anything else other than: “I’ll try.”
His Master immediately relaxed, obviously relieved, and then he let go of Bucky’s hands, leaning in to wrap him in a tight hug instead.
“Thank you, Bucky.”
“I’m not promising anything,” Bucky warned, though he found himself quickly hugging his Master back just as tight. He hadn’t realised just how much he missed this.
“I’m aware. But you’ll try, and that’s more than enough for me.”
~~~~~🟄~~~~~