Chapter Text
He threw his gauntlet on the ground hard enough to kick up dirt.
“Pick it up.” He hissed, baring his teeth like a ferocious animal. A hush had fallen over the courtyard. People stopped and gawked shamelessly because a potential duel drew in a crowd better than anything else.
The other knight blinked. Then again. His own prince had challenged him. “What are your terms?”
“Noon. Tomorrow.” The prince didn’t hesitate, not even over his next line, “To the death.”
The courtyard erupted into gasps. The knight towered over the prince, big burly muscles protruding from every inch of his body. Even his eyelids seemed liable to sprout a six pack. But this was not the reason for their surprise.
Prince Mike had never lost a duel.
He was known to be quick-tempered when it came to sparring or duels, sure, but oftentimes he only did so to keep them in place or from getting a big head. He was the Achilles of his time, after all. The best of the best in every field: swordplay, jousting, archery, even basic combat. He excelled, rather. The kingdom’s Great Protector.
The knight looked around. Who was he to deny such a request from the prince, even if it cost him his life, even if he knew he had no chance of survival? He bent down, seeming to remember it was the knightly thing to do, and picked it up. “I accept.”
Prince Mike snatched the gauntlet out of the other’s hands, and returned to the castle.
–The Great Protector–
“What the hell were you thinking?” His sister, Nancy, swatted him on the back of the head in the midst of her pacing. She wrapped her arms around her body, her expensive silk dress draping onto the floor of the great hall like a curtain. She was skin and bones as her father had demanded, eating scraps of bread upon occasion, but really having to play into the role of the ‘selfless princess’ as expected.
Mike huffed out a breath, sitting in his chair with his arms crossed around himself. His armor was still intact and he clanged when he moved, “He said horrible things about you! You might not have heard, but I did!”
“I don't care, Michael! Let him talk, he’s a knight, I expect it.” She dismissed.
The prince only shook his head, growing annoyed with the sound her heels were making on the floor, “No, they’re supposed to protect you. That is what I train them for, nothing else.” Mike said, rather calmly, which clashed with her frantic voice.
“So he should die because of that?!” She shouted, “He should die because he insulted me?” She paced more, and Mike didn’t respond to her rhetorics. She was practically purple in the face with all the rage bottled up inside her body, “Your last-man-standing duels were frustrating enough, but this? This is too much! You have to call it off. You have–”
“You know nothing about code, Daughter.” Their father’s booming voice echoed off the cold, stone walls. He was standing next to the window in silence until that point, looking down at the people in the courtyard. His presence was always felt, and often the line between King and Father was blurred for him.
Nancy let out a strained hiccup, sitting adjacent to her brother while she allowed tears to streak down her face. She truly was beautiful, many people called her “The Jewel of Hawkins” and with her beaming smile and (usually) shining personality, they had no reason to think otherwise.
“Father, the knights simply cannot think that it’s okay to speak about a woman that way. Especially when that woman is an heir!” Mike stood up now, planting his fists on the table, “I’m using him simply as a lesson for the others… a message.”
“What you’re doing, Mike, is nothing short of idiocy!” He said. He turned and his cape sprawled out behind him, whipping as it did so. He had a wrinkle between his eyebrows and a vein on his forehead. He was angry, this Mike was sure of, but when was he not? “As much as I agree with your sister, you knew the rules when you challenged him. You are the example, and you cannot back out of it.”
Mike clenched his jaw and gave a firm nod, relieved to have any kind of support from anyone at that point. Nancy wiped another tear away, adjusting her sleeves over her sunken shoulders and trying to regain her complexion. She didn’t speak.
The King slumped into his own chair at the head of the table and refused eye contact with both of his children, “This will not happen again, Michael. Your job is to protect, not kill. Know your place.”
Mike’s heart lurched. Still he bowed to his father, “Yes, sir.” And he left.
—
He was the only one in the arena. The sun was getting ready to set and the spring air was right at that point where it was getting warmer. As the breeze streamed through his black hair, he launched a knife until it slammed in the middle of his target. He was bored and practically able to do this with his eyes closed and facing away. Yet, he threw another one, and another until his hands were empty.
He never once felt the slightest twinge of worry for his match tomorrow. He knew he would win. He was sure of it. The only thing that seemed to cross his mind twice was the thought of taking another person’s life.
On his way out to the arena, many women of all ages had stopped him to thank him for putting his opponent in his place. They all recalled stories of the knight making lewd comments about them, brushing a firm hand over their breasts, and even suggesting they have sex with him. Each time he was denied, he would try to use his authority over them, and to Mike’s understanding, he had gotten away with it a few times. When he recalled their stories, the knight’s fate didn’t seem so bad after all.
He took the knives off the target, twisting and turning them until they were wedged free from the wood.
There was a small noise from the stands. A tiny creak followed by dense footsteps. “You’re not gonna win with those tomorrow.” they said. He didn’t even have to look up to know that it was his younger sister, Holly.
She was the opposite of Nancy. Boyish, no grace in the way she moved, and loud. Nothing like what a proper princess should be, but mature when needed. She did not wear a dress, but an outfit similar to Mike’s, brown cotton pants and the signature Royal Blue shirt. She hopped over the railing and joined her brother out on the dirt.
“No shit.” Mike scoffed, launching another knife out of his hands until it hit perfectly in the center of the target. He let out a cocky hum, throwing his sister a sideways smirk.
She rolled her eyes, “You missed dinner.”
He said nothing. Just felt the leather hilt twist in his hands before throwing another knife, this time much harder and with more intention.
“Mom was worried about you. She made the maids save you something to eat. You should really eat, you k–”
“Yeah, Holly, I know.” Mike cut in. She flinched at the sudden harshness in his words. “I have a duel tomorrow, alright? I gotta train.” He let out a sigh, hoping she would take the hint and leave him alone. The last thing he wanted right now was for someone (especially his family) to scold him for the things he knew he did wrong.
“You’re always training.” She shot back. “I mean, seriously, don’t you do anything else? You don’t even have the knights to practice with anymore, so what’s even the point?”
He grunted. Her annoying and persistent voice was starting to ruin his concentration. He held the knife next to his ear, “I have to train, Holly! It’s quite literally my only job as a prince right now. You clearly have no idea what it means to be royalty yet!” He hissed.
This made her go quiet.
She had always had a habit of doing this when scolded or yelled at, and though it had not been Mike’s intention to make her feel like she was a burden, he knew that he had been in the wrong and would have to apologize. He sighed and put the knife down, “Look, Holly, I’m not trying to be a dick, but the stakes for this duel… they aren’t like my other ones, alright? It’s not just an in-and-out situation.”
She blinked at him, eyebrows tight together, “I know.” Her voice was a mere whisper. “Mom said it’s to the death.”
Mike clicked his tongue, “So you see why I have to train? One wrong move and it’s over for me, and who would be here to protect you?” He said, raising the knife up once again when she seemed to regain her color.
“I know you won’t lose…” She began, Mike locked eyes with the center of the target, “...but, don’t you think it’s a little mean to kill him?” He winced, launching the knife out of his hand with impossible force, watching it hurdle forward until it split the target in half. Holly went still.
Mike sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Holly, he’s not a good knight, okay? He deserves what’s coming for him tomorrow. Trust me, the kingdom will be a better place without him.”
For a moment, Holly stared up at her brother like she had been trying to read further into his expression. What he had said was vague, and she didn’t know whether or not to pry or to leave it as it was. Seeming to pick the second option, she nodded slowly.
Mike gave her a small pat on the head, “What about you, huh? How’re your powers coming along?”
Holly beamed at this. It had always been her favorite topic of discussion–her powers, because she had been one of the lucky few selected to hone them. Sorcerers had been a rarity nowadays, and especially with the strict laws placed from the neighboring kingdom. Lenora, people were being less and less vocal about having abilities. She, however, seemed to tell everyone, but when it would come time to prove that she had any sort of magic, she would falter.
“I still can’t control them, but I’m getting there!” She smiled. Mike had always been jealous of her optimism.
“Oh?” He smirked.
“Uh-huh! Today I was by the fountain in the courtyard and this person dropped a glass bottle. The sound of it scared me and it was like this…frost came out of my hand. I dunno how to describe it, I’ve only been able to move water, not freeze it. The fountain became one giant icicle!” She said, trying to recreate the moment but only able to produce one tiny snowflake from her finger tip.
Mike laughed at her, “Well, once you get a trainer, I’m sure you’ll be the most powerful.” He nicked under her chin with his pointer finger, “Has Mom heard back?”
Holly stuck out her bottom lip with a huff, “She sent the letter to that Lenorian wizard in the woods like…5 days ago.”
“Still nothing?”
She shook her head, “No.”
Mike laughed to himself, “Go figure, most sorcerers are afraid of confrontation anyways.” He said, kicking the dirt under his feet.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Holly squinted her eyes at him.
He laughed, “Nothing! Nothing! Just, you know, it seems like the lazy way to get out of…well, fighting.” He said. When Holly didn’t seem satisfied with this answer, he continued, “You know, it just seems like, why would they rather stand behind this wall of power when they could learn how to use a sword, or throw a punch, for fuck’s sake!”
“That's not true!” Holly shouted, sticking her tiny finger as close to his face as it could reach, “Wizards and witches have to work for their magic just as hard as you do for your fighting! If they had it easy, I would have been born knowing how to use it.” Now she crossed her arms across her chest.
Mike only laughed again and placed a hand on her head, “Whatever, kid. I’m just saying, it seems a little unfair that I have to work my whole life for something they can do in the wave of a hand.”
She smiled now. Devilish. “Sounds like you’re jealous to me!”
Mike rolled his eyes, “Shouldn’t you be going to bed?” He said through his teeth, and now his sister laughed and scampered off, leaving him to his training.
—
He was not nervous the day of his duel. The crowd loudly funneled into their seats, booming footsteps across the wooden bleachers, fanning themselves of the sunny spring day. He stood in his tent as he had so many times before this, doing his same ritual of recollecting the particular knight’s fighting patterns.
Most were too fluid or too stiff, but this knight had a perfect balance of them both, quick when needed, broad when it mattered, and Mike could admire that about him. He had taught him everything he knew, after all. But, no matter, it was not an issue at all. Mike had always taught his knights that the best place to look at during a match was a balance between your opponents chest and eyes, to see what each limb will do and to anticipate their next move. Their eyes would give it away. However, this knight had been too dense to really master this aspect, and Mike was sure to exploit this.
The sunlight pooled into the tent as the curtains were pulled back. Standing there were his two most trustworthy (and closest) knights, Lucas and Dustin.
“Shit.” Dustin said with that familiar lisp, allowing himself inside, “Shit, shit, shit! What were you thinking?”
Lucas stood next to Mike, scolding the prince, “Seriously! To the death? Are you nuts?”
Mike said nothing, looked nowhere, and didn’t move. He was all too familiar with his heat-of-the-moment decision, but no matter how badly he wanted to (which was not badly at all) he could not back out now. It would not be the princely thing to do.
Dustin grabbed Mike’s first piece of armor, “You’re lucky this guy is dumber than a bag of hammers, I’ll give you that much. The only muscle of his that isn’t strong is the one that matters.” He placed a finger on his own temple. Dustin had always been quick to make a quip at other knight’s stature and build considering he himself had not been the most buff one of the group. Frumpy and missing bones. Had it not been for his well renowned father, he wouldn’t have been pressured to be a knight at all and could have used his smarts for things that mattered.
Dustin and Lucas latched Mike’s chestplate over his shoulders. Lucas made his retort now, “It doesn’t matter anymore, you’re in too deep. You gotta fight–” He picked up a kneepad, “-- you’re lucky you’re gifted as shit with a sword or you’d be fucked.”
Mike allowed himself to nod.
Lucas, the more logical one of the three, continued, “Just make sure you get it over with quick, yeah? My dad had to kill a knight once and said he was never the same. Maybe if you hurry up and do it, it won’t be too bad.”
Mike sighed and sat down with a clank. They had strapped his armor as tightly as he had liked it, expertly doing so over the last few years and knowing how Mike needed it to operate, “Look, guys…” he started, “I know I said to the death, but what if I can’t do it?” His heart was racing just imagining how it would feel to lodge a sword through someone’s chest.
“Can’t do what?” Dustin said, which earned him a quick smack on the shoulder from Lucas.
“Kill someone, numnuts.” Lucas rolled his eyes, then redirected his attention to Mike, “Look, man–” no titles, the way Mike had preferred. “-- It won’t make you look bad to spare his life, alright?”
“Yes it will!” Mike hissed, digging his palms into his eyes, “What kind of prince would I be if I can’t even kill someone? Future Kings are supposed to be ruthless, and what about my ‘legacy’?” He sighed so much that his chestplate almost touched the leather straps on his thighs.
Dustin sat down next to him, “Just because you’re supposed to be the Achilles of our time, doesn’t mean you have to aim for that.”
Lucas nodded, “Yeah, those are just rumors. You don’t have to be the best at anything.”
This just wasn’t true. They had no idea the kind of pressure Mike had always had put on him. Expectations he had to meet. Tales he had to make come true. People he had to please. He was the protector of his sisters, of his mom, of his people, of his kingdom. That was his place. He could prove to everyone today that he knew this, and would do whatever it took to make them happy.
He grunted and shouldered his way past Lucas and Dustin, peeling back the layer of his tent and stepping out into the sun. His sword clanged to his side and his helmet stayed tucked under his arm. The audience suddenly erupted into cheers, claps, and whistles celebrating their undefeated prince, and for only a short moment, he allowed the pricks of pride to form in his chest.
He gave them all a valiant wave, sticking his hand in the air, and then placing it over his armored heart. He looked to the center of the stands, seeing the most prominent figure out of them all. His father.
The King had been relaxed in his throne, slouched to the side in an almost too comfortable position. His crown was slightly off center and his robes not up to par. Just from his un-kingly appearance, Mike knew that this was not something he cared about. A bump in his already rocky schedule, and he would not be entertained in the slightest.
To his left, his wife. She was antsy, fidgeting, and craning her neck just to get a better look at her son who was the size of an ant from where she sat. Her stress lines had never looked so detailed than now as she bounced a knee under her dress.
His two sisters sat next to each other, the oldest sitting like she had a rod down her back and on the edge of her seat. The youngest seemed to be trying to control her powers which had a tendency to get out of control when she was feeling any strong emotion.
He took a deep breath and placed his helmet on his head. It had been the lightest one in his collection and he only needed it for show. He knew he would come out not only victorious, but unscathed.
He went through his motions, killing time before the knight had left his own tent. The crowd had not given him the same reaction as they had with Mike, and he seemed to notice this, sticking both his arms up in the air as if he might win them over. The prince sighed at his sad attempt, and suddenly the burden of his situation weighed heavily on his chest.
They stood face-to-face in their metal armor which was incredibly hot in the sun. Mike gave him a polite nod, but the knight didn’t return it.
“I wonder how Daddy’s gonna act when his only son’s blood stains his arena.” He said. Mike had never noticed how much the man had sounded like a neanderthal until now.
He cringed, “Dude, that’s fucking weird…don’t say that.” He took his sword out of its sheath, and held it in his hand. He wasn’t worried about losing. In fact, that outcome hadn’t even crossed his mind. The most potent and burning thought was Let’s get this over with.
The knight lunged with his right foot first. The crowd gasped as Mike nicked the sword away from his side with ease, not bothering to back away. Another joust, another gasp, and another swat.
The knight circled him for a moment, flipping his sword in his hand as if he were simply toying with his prey. Trying to intimidate Mike. Trying to mock him. And maybe the appropriate thing to do would be to slice his head clean off right then, to end it before it even started. This is the only way Mike could show any mercy at this point. Or, he could let the knight think he had a fighting chance.
Mike sloppily thrust his sword forward, letting it hang in the air as the knight all but backflipped out of the way. A cocky smile played on his lips, and Mike knew his plan was working. Their swords clanked together in the air, Mike predicting and blocking all of his moves while staring directly at the center of his chest. His shiny armor had all but blinded Mike, and this gave the other the slightest advantage. Truthfully, Mike had trained to do a duel blindfolded if needed, so a bit of spotty vision would not be the bane of him.
A sword whooshed past his head just after he ducked, spinning on his toe while sticking his leg out and kicking his opponent in the shin, knocking him on his ass with a great thud.
Mike could have killed him then. It would have been easy. But instead, he picked up the stray sword and gave it back to the disarmed knight, “C’mon, don’t tell me you were talking a big game just to get your ass kicked.” Mike said. The first row of people let out a small chuckle.
Though the knight wore a helmet, Mike could tell he had been embarrassed, for his next lashings were much more sporadic and intentional. Mike, however, dodged them with ease, trying to find a way to make it look like he was struggling (but failing.)
He was only just now starting to feel the slightest bit of fatigue, deciding that he no longer should play with his food and just get it over with.
As the knight continued with his barbaric swings, Mike had managed to sneak behind him in one fluid move, kicking the backs of his legs until he was promptly knocked down again. The straps on his chestpiece had been loosened enough to make the chunk of metal launch off his shoulders, sword flying through the air and landing in the ground with a thwang. And now it was time for the hard part.
The knight scurried backward, still yet to stand up. Mike had him cornered. It would be the end of his miserable life. “Please.” The knight whispered.
And Mike’s heart hiccuped. Suddenly, this man was not a man, but a boy. A child. An infant. Someone’s beloved son with his own story and his own history. Someone who had really fucked up his life to get to where it was today, and Mike suddenly had all the power in the world to take it. Could he really kill him? He winced, straddling the other.
He hesitated, sword in hand, “If I let you go free, both our honors will be destroyed.” He said it as a whisper to the trembling man.
He shook his head, “No…spare me and people will know you have mercy.”
The words made Mike glance up. The audience was quiet. Wide-eyed and expectant. They looked as if they themselves didn’t know the outcome of the match. Would Mike show mercy? That was the question.
But, suddenly, Mike’s eyes fell on his sisters. The wind caused by Holly’s anxious powers made her hair whip behind her. Nancy seemed ignorant to it, lasered onto her brother with her sad, pleading eyes. And then he looked at his father.
For a moment, they locked eyes. The King was no longer bored, but surprised. His eyebrows were raised, sitting up in his throne. And then he gave Mike the slightest nod, and that was all he needed.
It happened in slow motion, the sword between his palms had positioned itself above the knight’s chest. He had always said in his lessons to never find yourself in this position, or it would surely be fatal, and maybe the knight had been just as ignorant those times as any other time. His arms flexed, muscles contracting until they had built enough strength to send the sword between two ribs which crunched under the weight, piercing the man below him like a kebab.
The air left the man’s punctured lungs like a heavy sigh, and Mike opened his eyes to see the last glimpse of life spread throughout his face, before his head rolled back into the dirt.
Dead.
The crowd was silent for a moment, and Mike had never felt more like a savage than he had in this moment. He stepped back on his uneven footing, and suddenly the earth was spinning around him. He held up a hand, hearing the woozy sound of the crowd applauding him, but had this really been cause for celebration? Taking another man’s life? Had this really been something to stand and clap for?
No matter, Mike had already made his unsteady way back to his tent, feeling his stomach wriggle around inside of his torso like he had eaten a parasite. He gripped his side, removing his helmet and any fragile piece of armor as best as he could before he felt his first dry heave. It punched him in the gut until everything he had eaten that morning made its way back out through his mouth, throwing up all over the ground.
It did very little to soothe his spinning mind. He kept a hand placed on his stomach and was now afraid to blink, for every time he closed his eyes, he would see the knight’s dead body at the end of his sword which was still stuck in his chest. He could practically smell that horrid stench of iron and flesh mixing together with the sweat he had poured into the match.
He deserved it! He tried to tell himself. In truth, who was Mike to decide who gets to live and who gets to die? This was a kind of power that should not be given to anyone, especially a 22 year old man who was still a child at heart.
He shook his head, hoping to rid himself of the dizziness but only making it worse. He threw up again, this time only stomach bile, and this mixed with the heat in the room only made the smell more potent.
He removed pieces of his armor quickly and left the tent the opposite way he came in, finding himself at the start of the forest.
In the midst of his chaotic mind, the woods had provided a sort of sereneness that he had only read about, greenery starting to sprout, blossoms beginning to bloom letting out that flowery smell that most would find sickening– but not Mike. The fresh air had never felt so good in his lungs and the world started to move normally again.
He walked further into the trees. The sunlight streaked in through their canopy, the birds sang their first song of the year and he could hear the rushing water of the river.
He was now calm.
For a moment, he allowed himself to picture a life without responsibilities. One where he had not been in line for the throne and could spend his days as a tradesman, whittling little figures of animals, writing about all the places he had seen and people he met, the mere beauty of life that people could only dream of seeing held in the palm of his hand. He pictured himself going from tavern to tavern, kingdom to kingdom, until he was too old for the journey and let himself be at peace with the world in death. He was a poet trapped inside a prince’s body.
In the middle of his mumbling mind, he heard a small whisper. It was as light as the breeze and for a moment, he thought he had made it up. He turned around, but still found himself completely alone. It sent a chill down his spine, that sudden wave of cowardice when he realized he had been all but defenseless. Then, he heard it again. This time from nowhere in particular and louder. Whatever this person was saying must have been in some foreign tongue because Mike had no idea what they were saying.
“Hello?” He called out to the air around him, but saw nothing. He heard the leaves rustle playfully in the wind, the tree branches creaking as they bobbed happily. The whisper sounded more like a crowd of encroaching people now, like they were not able to use their voices and could only use the wind to speak. The sound surrounded him, but no matter where he turned, he could not find the owner of the voices.
He had no sword to draw out, only left over scraps of armor from his lashing out to protect him. He kept a fist balled at his side and shouted once again, “Who’s there?” But the whispers could not answer.
As he perched upon a high rock, hoping to at least have the advantage of higher ground, he could see something rather peculiar. Something he had never seen before. Something he hadn’t even read about.
A fog had suddenly sprouted across the forest floor, only it wasn’t a fog at all. Shimmery and white, glowing just as brightly as if it were the northern lights in the sky. The whispers seemed to be emitting from them, as they got louder with every inch the fog covered.
He had no idea what to do. It hadn’t really posed a threat besides the magical qualities it possessed, and as far as he knew, it was completely harmless. Still, he did not let his guard down as it swept up the rock he stood atop, and crawled towards him, dancing around his ankles. Even though it seemed the whispers were right in his ear, he was never able to make out a single word. However, they sounded…happy. Excited, almost, like they had been bursting at the seams to tell him a story they were on the cusp of articulating.
“MIKE!” Someone shouted a few paces from his tent. He ripped his head around at the sudden noise, and the whispers vanished just as mysteriously as they had appeared, leaving a ringing in his ear. The fog was no longer anywhere, like the Earth had absorbed it in the blink of an eye. And for a moment, Mike thought he had lost his mind. Maybe killing someone really did make you go crazy. “Mike! You there?”
He staggered, taking one more glance at the ground and seeing nothing, “Coming!” He called back.
It was Dustin, and right next to him as always, Lucas. They each put a hand on his shoulder, “You okay?” They asked in unison.
He only nodded.
“We– uh, saw the puke in your tent.” Lucas said, sheepishly. “We just wanted to make sure you hadn’t been too shaken.”
Mike shrugged their hands off his shoulders, walking past them, “I’m fine.” He said, more curt than he had intended. He had yet to shake the mist, “My father didn’t go in the tent, did he?” He held his breath until they answered.
“Nah,” Dustin said, “They all went straight to the castle after.”
Mike nodded once again, thankful the King had not seen his vomit all over the ground. This would have been an amazing way for him to find out that his son was just as cowardly as a sorcerer. Dishonorable.
Mike returned to the castle, too preoccupied with his own swarming theories to notice that his people would stop and gawk as he walked by, leaving a trail of open mouths and haunting whispers. Why wouldn’t they gossip? They had all watched him kill a man, and only he had to carry that burden. His eyes were dry from lack of blinking as he walked the halls to his chambers, throwing the doors open and breaking free of any pieces of armor he had tied on him still.
For the next few hours, he stayed in his room with a pile of books that he had requested from the library right next to his desk. Each had coincidentally been about ancient spells and magical forests, which got him nowhere closer to figuring out just what the hell that fog had been. Minutes upon minutes of reading stories he had already read, ones he had not, and ones he had only heard of, just to come out empty handed.
He sighed back into his chair, seeing that the sun was about set, and decided to head to dinner.
—
When he was younger, dinners had always been something he looked forward to. Of course, it was every kid’s dream to be a prince. To have someone else wash your sheets and dress you, to feed you grapes while they fanned you with a leaf. It all sounded luxurious. But, reality set in, and he quickly learned that it was not as glorified as they made it seem in his fantasy novels.
Riding into war with thousands of men waiting for his command had sounded so amazing on paper, but Mike found out that these were just wandering profits who wrote stories based on what they thought would sell, and who would want to read about a Prince who made a neat little treaty with their neighboring kingdom? Being a Prince was not all they made it out to be. It was boring, most of the time. Tedious, definitely. And most of all, it was a burden.
How could he tell the peasants that he was jealous of their freedom? How could he tell a poet that he would trade lives with him at the drop of a hat? And how could he tell himself that he craved freedom more than anything? Simple. He couldn’t.
So that thought was pressed down many years ago, and he accepted that he would never truly know what it meant to be a Prince, but one thing was for sure. He could do what was asked of him. This gave him the slightest bit of purpose he could ask for, and after a while it started to be his new way of life.
Holly sat across from him, picking at her plate with her fork. The King had seemed to be the only one with a full belly, scarfing all of his food down with ease.
“I was so impressed by your performance today, Michael!” He said to his son, reaching over and clapping his back with a greasy hand. “You know, you had him pinned down, I didn’t think you were gonna do it, never in a million years. You’re too soft!” He laughed, “But then, when you put the sword over his chest, I knew he was done for!” Now he threw his head back into a fit of laughter, showing everyone the food he had yet to pick out of his teeth. Very unkingly of him.
“Thanks.” Mike whispered, jabbing his turkey leg with his fork.
Nancy kept her hands properly folded in her lap and kept her mouth sewn shut. Maybe this had been for the better. Mike felt as though he would crumble under any pressure right now and he was happy to know he had made at least one person proud.
The Queen diligently wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin, “Holly, sweetie.” She said. Her voice had always been so gentle when she talked to any of her kids, “We heard back from the Sorcerer today.”
The mention of this sorcerer seemed to wipe the smile clean off the King’s face. Now he was quiet. Observing. Jaw clenched and fists balled.
Their mom placed the letter on the table and slid it to her daughter with two fingers. The messenger bird had left the mark of its talons embedded in the paper. A bigger bird, perhaps an owl or raven.
Holly shook with excitement as she unfolded the thick wad of paper, reading the words until her expressionless face beamed with joy brighter than a beacon.
She squealed and leapt from her chair, “I”M GONNA BE A SORCERER!” She shouted, stomping her feet and throwing herself into the Queen’s arms.
Her mom laughed, “You read the rules, though, you have to be on your best behavior and you have to come back on the weekends, okay?”
“Okay, I promise! I’ll be so good. Better than good!” She was biting her lip and even hugged Nancy and Mike while caught in the moment. However, when she went to embrace her father, he gave her a smug stare that made her joy fizzle out. “Uh…” She stammered, “I’m going to go pack with the maids.” and she spun around and left. The doors clanked together and echoed throughout the Great Hall.
They were all silent, the King cast shadows of disapproval upon them all.
One side of Mike felt bad for his sister. It was not her fault she had been marked by the druids when she was an infant. It was not her fault her powers chose her. She was pure and beloved and full of compassion. She didn’t deserve the hatred from her father, but his malice was slightly justifiable.
Years ago, the witches and wizards had suggested that they be in charge, claiming that their powers were strong enough to protect everyone from harm and to provide safety. The humans, of course, denied this, saying that traditional ways worked better. Years and years of bloodshed after bloodshed, one war after another, the sorcerers grew tired and tried to overthrow their kings and queens. Not just one kingdom, but all of them.
Unfortunately for them, they were outnumbered, and when the humans had killed enough of them, they gave in. Sorcerers are sparse now, but gradually returning as time passes. Most kings and queens are still on edge, even though this happened centuries ago.
Most kingdoms banned magic for good. Some were kinder about it, only exiled or sentenced to jail (like Lenora) and others would kill someone on the spot at just the mere suspicion they were a druid. Hawkins, however, had an overwhelming population of sorcerers and decided to keep the peace, or at least try.
But that doesn’t mean they were civil.
“I’d like to speak to my son…” The king said, looking at his daughter and wife, “..alone.” He demanded. They stood, giving their sheepish bows before clearing the room.
Mike could hear his heartbeat. Only moments ago, his father had been boasting about the successful duel, and now there was a chill in the air that made Mike shiver. He didn’t dare speak first.
His father twirled a knife between his finger and the table, watching it spin and carve a tiny hole in the wood until he finally opened his mouth. “Your duel today…” Now he stood up, pushing his chair out from behind him, “You have proved yourself to be quite trustworthy to me.”
“What do you mean trustworthy?” Mike said, trying to sound as respectful as he could.
“You don’t really think I’m going to send my 13 year old daughter to go live with some… magical stranger, do you?” He asked, and Mike gave a sullen nod as he had been taught. He had never been in the presence of a sorcerer that truly wished to cause him harm, but he had always been told that the possibility was there, and that was all he needed. “I don’t trust them. For all I know, they could be planning something right under our noses, and a druid princess would be the perfect way to get their foot in the door.”
Mike pressed his fingers together, “Father, you don’t seriously think they’ll rebel again do you? I mean, look at their numbers compared to ours, there’s a huge diff–”
“It does not matter, Mike!” His father boomed, his voice echoed off the stone walls. “They have severed any trust. Surely, as a Royal, you can understand. This is your legacy on the line, as well as mine.”
His legacy? His legacy was to protect. Nothing else. Know your place. He remembered his father’s words and sighed, “What would I even do?”
“Keep tabs on this Will character. Stay up all night if you have to. I want to know his every move, and if you suspect anything, you report back to me, alright?” His father now paced the floor with his hands behind his back.
Mike hiccuped, “And what if I do find something…out of the ordinary?”
The King stopped his pacing, and for the first time in his life, he thought about his words. “It is our job to keep them in line… by any means necessary.”
Mike swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded just a slight amount. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
Chapter Text
That morning had passed like a painful stomach ache. Slowly and hard to ignore. Every overbearing snide comment that his father would whisper in his ear about the sorcerers, every maid that came in his room to make sure his bag was properly packed, every horse that grunted and kicked as if trying to run away. It was miserable. And when Holly figured out her solo trip was no longer solo, she was not happy. The wind whipped around her head with her anger as she stamped her foot and whined.
The Queen had gently patted her on the head and explained that it had been dangerous to send a princess anywhere alone and that it wasn’t Holly they didn’t trust, it was the world. The same bullshit they had fed Mike years ago when he would ask to tag along to the peace meetings with Lenora or be let in on their war plans. They would simply smile at him and dismiss him, and he was left feeling inferior every time. Not good enough.
-The Sorcerer in the Woods-
Soon, when they were riding through the woods on horseback, Mike made sure to check in on Holly. She wore her hood over her pigtails as instructed– the head of a Prince and Princess was far too valuable to have on display, but nothing could shield Mike of the face she was making. Bottom lip out, eyebrows furrowed. Angry.
He sighed, pulling the reins back to slow down his already tedious horse, “Look, I didn’t want to come out here. I know how important this is for you, I would never intentionally get in your way.”
She rolled her eyes, “You should have said no.”
“I did!” Mike said, practically pleading with her to understand. “Trust me, this was all Father’s idea. If I had it my way, I’d be back home training.”
Holly still hadn’t accepted his answer, slowing her own horse down until it walked behind Mike’s once again, and they stayed like that in silence.
Mike had not been able to sleep that night due to the spirit of the man he killed coming back to haunt him. Any time he would close his eyes, the knight was there, begging for his life. He could still practically hear that sad, begging “please.” in his throat, scurrying back on his hands as if Mike had been a monster.
Was he really that different from one?
He wanted to shake himself of the thoughts, but another part of him knew that he had done it to himself. He knew what he had signed up for the second the words “To the Death” rolled off his tongue. Everyone knew what those terms entailed, but there was a fine line between saying and doing, and Mike had to leap over it.
“What did you say to him?” Holly squeaked from her place behind her brother.
Mike tilted his head to view her sheepish gaze, “Hm?” He hummed.
“The knight…during your duel. You were speaking to him, but I couldn’t hear you.”
He allowed the memory to roll behind his eyes, making him feel sick all over again.
He huffed out a breath, “It doesn’t matter…what I said.” Mike spoke, voice firm, “What’s done is done, I can’t change anything about it.”
She didn’t seem to like this answer, scoffing out her response, “Don’t you wish you could, though?”
Mike cringed, “Could what?”
“Change it. You didn’t have to kill him at all! He was an innocent man.” Holly snapped back, and Mike had never heard such clarity in her voice.
“That’s far from the truth! He was horrible. He took advantage of women…why should he get to walk a free man when people have been burned for less?” Mike shot back at her.
“And what gives you the right to decide who lives and who dies?” She hissed, and for the first time in his entire life, Mike didn’t know what to say to her.
He had always tried to paint himself as sort of a hero in her eyes, but the more she grew, the more she matured, she started to see through his cracked mask, that he was imperfect. When they were kids, Mike had put her on a pedestal. He now had a blank page to write with someone, and he vowed to himself to never disappoint her as her brother. But time and time again he failed. Failed to protect her, to be there for her, to comfort her. And, selfishly, it was all because he was too scared to face his own father. He was always too soft. Too much. Not enough. Imperfect.
Holly took his silence as a chance to state her peace. “Normals think that they have this divine right to just kill whoever they want to for the simple fact that they are mad or feel they were not treated fairly.”
Mike scoffed, “You say Normals as if you too are not royalty.”
“Royalty or not, I have the mark of the Druids! I am a sorcerer. I’m…I’m different.” She placed a hand on the back of her neck where those three spirals had been etched into her skin like the scar from a burn. She’d been born with it, as all druids were, and it had been the one defining feature that stood out amongst their otherwise normal looks.
Maybe Mike didn’t understand what it was like to be the only royal to have powers, but he did understand what it was like to be different. He sighed, “Look, Holly. I was practically born with a sword in my hand. I knew how to fight before I could walk. I went from trainer to trainer and outfought every single one of them until I had no one left but myself. I have practiced fighting for longer than my memories go, and that’s saying something.” He had never allowed himself to be this vulnerable with her. Maybe soon he would regret what he was saying, but for the moment, his sister needed her older brother, not a prince.
He continued, looking out to the surrounding nature with a blush on his face, “The truth is, I’ve never cared much for fighting. I’ve always thought it was… stupid. Meaningless, honestly.”
Holly’s lips parted the slightest amount, “Then why do you do it?”
“The same reason Nancy starves herself. The same reason Father is so ruthless and Mom tolerates him. It’s expected of me. I wasn’t born with the power to kill someone with the wave of my hand, I had to earn that. And I may not be able to control the wind or… freeze water fountains–” Holly let out a little laugh in response to his smile, “-- but what I can do is protect. And if that means killing a thousand people, then so be it.”
Now her smile dropped again. “You are too casual about wars, Michael.”
“Am I? C’mon don’t tell me you believe that hippie bullshit about wars not being necessary!”
Holly scoffed. Mike had been playful, but this seemed to have gone over her head, “That hippie bullshit is everything we sorcerers stand for!”
He laughed, “Holly, when are you going to realize you’re not one of them! You don't want to be one of them! You know…being a druid means cowardice and pride. Those two cannot exist together!”
“They can!”
“No, Holly! They can’t. Take it from a prince, they cannot.” He rolled his eyes. Surely his sister would learn sooner than later. She was still young, still naive, and still had a lot to learn. “Fear is what unites us. If you allow everyone to think that they can get away with anything they want then they start to act out. However, if they’re scared to step out of line, they won’t move.”
He had practically been reciting the same sermon they had all been taught growing up– that fear was the one thing they all had in common. Even more so– that pain and death had been the most universal fear of them all, and a King would do anything to keep his power.
They sat in silence for a moment, Mike looked at the river that they had been following downstream, leading to the sorcerer in the woods. Mike honestly had no clue what to expect, but with the sheer experience this man had, he pictured him to be ancient. Practically a walking fossil who sprouted a beard that touched his toes, or maybe even a purple cloak and a pointed hat. It seemed very in character for a druid to have at least one of these things.
As they got closer to where the wizard lived, Mike felt the air change. As if it had gotten lighter. Sweeter. Suddenly the moss stopped sprouting in its normal sporadic way and became orderly spirals on rocks, the druid symbol sprouting on top of every boulder and stone. Nothing short of magic, and it had a sort of awe to it.
Mike trudged forward as if it had not been one of the most unique things he had ever seen (not including the fog and whispers, which he still had not told anyone about) and became very wary. He clutched a hand over his sword as the smell of a campfire came closer. The trees had not done much to help with the suspense, shielding most of the sunlight from the forest floor and creating a thick shade. Firefly-like bugs danced in the air, glimmering in a hypnotic way.
The river made a gentle white noise. The birds perched high in the branches and cooed their songs and fluttered their wings. The wind danced softly through the leaves. All of this coupled with the flowery scent in the air made Mike mistake this inferno for a sanctuary.
Soon enough, Mike had found the camp. Unmistakable with the animal hides strung up and left to dry by the fire, the buckets and baskets full of foraged fruits and nuts, the iron skillets and cauldron left in a neat stack next to dried herbs. However, the only thing that was nowhere to be found was the wizard.
He craned his neck to the side and suddenly the entire place had seemed laughable compared to what stood before him.
A huge cave. Bigger than any he had ever seen with gaps in the ceiling allowing light to tunnel in. Floating candles that seemed like they’d never burn out lit up the granite walls. On one side, a desk cluttered with medicinal plants, dried herbs, and an impossible amount of books. Piles and piles, some stacked up like a spiral staircase, stood swarming the workbench that had been sloppily put together with logs and sticks.
In fact, that was how most things looked in this cave. He approached the bed, seeing it was empty and held together with twine and prayers. It was more of a cot than anything and the blanket was so thin and mangy that he doubted it provided any warmth.
“Anything, Holly?” He called out, hearing his voice echo off the walls.
She had still been snooting around the campfire, but only shook her head. “He might have gone upriver.” She shrugged. Mike had come out of the cave now, doing his own brief surveillance and seeing nothing. “Want to just wait around for him to get back?”
“No need!” A voice said from behind the pair.
For a moment, Mike faltered upon spinning around. He had been ready to swing if he needed to, hand instinctively going to his sword, but instead it was like the air had been viciously ripped from his lungs.
This sorcerer was not like he had imagined him to be at all. Shoulder length brunette hair, hazel eyes, and young. He could have even been younger than Mike himself. What had surprised Mike the most, however, was not his youth, but his smile. He grinned ear to ear until a blush grew on his face. The faintest of freckles grew here and there while beauty marks frequently kissed his skin.
Mike thought of the odyssey. He thought of the sirens luring the sailors to their deaths with their charm. He inhaled and placed a hand back over his sword, face set, “You’re the sorcerer in the woods?”
“I mean, if that’s what they call me!” He laughed.
“You?” Mike asked again. The druid just gave him a deadpan stare, “You’re Will the Wise?”
He snorted, “I just go by Will, I don’t care much for those titles.” Mike didn’t respond to his friendly jest. Will continued with a more fixed face, “I don’t think you’re Holly,” He said to Mike, then shifted to the little girl, “So that must mean that it’s you!” He extended a hand to her.
Mike, however, stuck his thigh between the two and gave a slight grunt. “We’re not here to be friends with you. We just need you to teach her.”
Will stood now, crossing his arms and popping out a leg. With this movement, Mike noticed that the boy was barefoot. The grass swallowed his skin all the way to his ankles. “That doesn’t mean we can't be civil. After all, I’m allowing you two to stay in my camp.”
“Your camp?” Mike scoffed. His knuckles had turned white as he clamped down on his sword even harder. “My father owns this land, none of it belongs to you.”
“Well, then by all means, feel free to walk home every night. I won’t lose sleep over it.” Will now brushed a shoulder against the prince, walking past as if he had no regard nor care for their royal blood.
Mike laughed, “We will, then!”
“Mike!” Holly groaned, stepping out from her hiding place behind her brother. “Calm down, he’s just trying to help!”
Her hands had grabbed onto his blue cape to keep him steady, but he ripped it away from her, “You don’t know what he’s trying to do. Just shut up and let me do the talking. You’re just a kid, you don’t know what’s good and what’s bad.”
The words weighed a million tons on his sister. Her face quickly changed from a calming, hopeful smile to a furious, teeth bearing frown. “If you want to walk back to the castle every night, fine! But, I’m staying here with him.” Her boots stomped against the grass until she reached a stump by the fire.
Will had been standing in blissful ignorance to the whole feud. He poked the embers with a stick and kept that smile on his face when Holly finally accepted his handshake.
Mike could hear them. He could see them. Trying to rationalize anything in his head was near impossible with the bickering going on between duty and curiosity. Mike had never seen magic in full effect. He had only read the stories about how the Earth grants only a select few these powers which allows them a sort of sixth sense. Their mark upon their neck glows as they connect with everything around them, able to turn water into snow and air into rain.
His envy was sharp and painful. Unwelcome to say the least, but it had made its way to his chest. Though he liked to think he would still have his fighting abilities if he was a druid, he knew for a fact he would take the easy way out.
Anger seared in his stomach. He couldn’t go back to the castle, and he didn’t want to stay here.
Will laughed and held a hand up to Holly. Suddenly, as if out of the thin air, tiny flames emerged from his finger tips. Beautiful. Mike had never seen bits of fire be so graceful in the still air. They reflected in Holly’s childish eyes as she held her palm out. But, nothing happened.
“Have you not been able to channel your fire magic yet?” Will asked.
Mike moved closer, more from the strange magnetic pull the two sorcerers had than anything, until his face was being warmed by the campfire.
Holly furrowed her brows, “Fire…magic?” She asked.
“Fire magic.” Will laughed, and he began to move his hands in an enchanting way, like he was imitating a flame. And from this movement, a small fire hovered over his hand, “There’s all different kinds of magic, but the roots are the four elements.” He clenched a fist, and when he opened it, the flame had turned into smoke, “I can make smoke with a flame, but I can’t make ice from it.”
He waved a different hand and Mike watched in awe as the bucket next to his leg suddenly tipped over and the water rushed into the air like it was a solid rather than a liquid. It wrapped around the Sorcerer’s forearm like a snake coiled up on a branch. Will continued, “I can make water turn to vapor,” With one flex, the water sizzled to a boil and disintegrated within the same instant, “...but I can’t make wind from it.”
Holly’s mouth was agape as she tried to mimic the movements he had done with ease, but had given up halfway. “How did you do that?” She all but squealed.
Will just laughed at her surprise, "I've done nothing but study for all the years I’ve been out here.”
Holly’s hand imitated a flame once more, but she could still conjure no magic, “Teach me how you did that with the water–no! With the flame first! Was it some sort of spell you said? It didn’t look like you said anything, but I was too focused on your hands to see. When will I be able to do that?” Her questions came too quickly for Will to even differentiate between them.
Mike laughed at his sister’s untamed excitement. It had been a long time since she was this happy. The last time she had ever beamed this brightly was when she had finally talked their parents into allowing her to train her abilities. The hunt for a sorcerer was not easy, especially since she was a royal and most druids would see it as some sort of trap. Mike had come to the conclusion that this “Will” character had to be either insanely confident in his ability to fight off an army, or just plain stupid.
The sorcerer patted her on the hand and smiled, “I’ll teach you in time. For now, why don’t you two get settled in.” And now he looked over to Mike who suddenly became insanely aware of the boy’s gaze. He shifted on the log he sat on, trying to wipe any sort of curiosity off his face. Will’s tone became harsher, “That is… if you want to stay.”
Mike sighed. He deserved this sudden crudeness. Though he did not trust Will by any stretch of the imagination, Holly was happy, and that much he was sure of. And, if he were to return, it would be a lecture from his father and meaningless hours of practicing things he’d already perfected. “Whatever.” He groaned. “I’ll get the horses.”
–
Everything was properly in its place before the sun began to set. The breeze had pulled in the faintest bit of cool air which whistled in the holes of the cave. Holly had pulled her weight, unpacking all of her things and making the bed that she would sleep in. There had only been one and she had claimed it, and Mike was increasingly aware of this fact when bed time crept in.
Holly explained how she was not tired while she yawned, and Mike scooped her up from where she had finished dinner and brought her to the cave. “You should go to bed.” He said, in his gentle voice he reserved for her and all of the other kids back at Hawkins. “You’ll need all your energy for training tomorrow.”
He pulled the blanket they had brought from the castle over her shoulders until she was like a butterfly in a cocoon. Her eyes were drowsy, as was her voice. “Are you really going to stay here?” She asked.
The thought had crossed his mind before– leaving her there and returning bright and early in the morning so she wouldn’t have even known he was gone, but even he knew this would be out of sheer pettiness and nothing else. He would not apologize because it was unbecoming of him to show that side of him to a simple commoner (who happened to have an insane amount of powers) so instead, he would play it off.
“Yes.” He smiled at her. His voice was a mere whisper as he squatted down next to her side. “I was pretty mean today wasn’t I?” The candles danced around the cave, casting those familiar, panicky-looking shadows against the rock walls. The only sound had been from the rushing river just on the other side.
She nodded, “The meanest.” But, the corners of her mouth had rolled up into a coy smile, and Mike knew that she had forgiven him already. It was their strange, sibling-way of avoiding the actual conversation and dealing with the I’m sorry’s and the It’s okay’s.
Mike rolled his eyes and returned his smile.
Her eyes then flickered to Will who was standing alone by the fire. The trees were silhouettes in the night and towered over him as the moon light now beamed on his face, touching only the edges of his profile. When the wind blew once again, this time bringing a noticeable chill with it, he rubbed his hands together and produced a flame, putting it in the firepit and watching it grow. “Do you think I’ll be as good as him one day?” She asked. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of him, even when Mike returned his attention to her.
She looked scared. Almost intimidated. “No.” He whispered. Now she looked at him. “You’ll be better.” She tried to hold back her smile, “Much better.” He reassured. She showed her teeth and shook her head. “But for now, get some sleep, okay?” He stood and dusted the dirt from his pants, making sure she was still covered and leaving the cave.
The cicadas were loud in their trees, having no regard for time or when to stop their nonsensical buzzing. Will had laid out two different hides on the dirt on either side of the fire.
“She okay?” Will asked. He had said it so casually that Mike had almost mistaken it for friendship. For familiarity. He only nodded a response and laid down on the pallet.
The air smelled like pollen and flowers and the smoke from the fire was light and warm. As the crickets chirped their way to sleep, Mike found it impossible to close his eyes. Instead, he looked at the stars that peeked through the gaps in the canopy above them, the fireflies that danced in the woods, the river that reflected the light from the moon.
It dawned on him that he had never seen such serene nature.
When he was young, he often found himself on his balcony looking out into the woods and feeling this overwhelming urge to venture out. To see what was beyond the treeline. His father, however, would smack him on the back of the head if he caught his son daydreaming about such foolish things, but Mike had never wanted anything more. He used hunting expeditions and treaty signings (the ones that he was allowed on) as an excuse to leave his kingdom, but even still the nature around him had been hard to see behind the walls of the carriage.
Will had been finishing up a few of his tasks quietly by the light of the fire. Mike watched him in the corner of his eye when he got too close to the cave. He felt the slightest twinge of unease and clutched the sword he had kept by his side. But then Will held up a hand, and the floating candles dimmed, leaving Holly with just enough light to find the two boys if needed.
Mike released his grip and looked back up at the stars, listening as Will made his way to his own pallet and through a thin blanket over his body. Propped up on his elbow, he spoke softly, “Do you want the fire going?”
Mike didn’t avert his eyes. He paused until his brain had registered the question had been aimed at him, “It doesn’t matter to me.” He sighed out and turned to face away from the sorcerer.
Mike’s shadow was cast long over the ground until it fizzled out into the woods. “Okay, then.” Will said, and suddenly there was no light for his body to block. A wave of cold washed over his shoulders and sent a shiver down his spine. He would not say anything.
–
He woke up to the feeling of eyes on him. Still dark out, still cold. Except, now everything was completely quiet. The cicadas and crickets had finally tucked in for the night, but so did the moon. In fact, the only thing that produced any light at all was the embers in the fire and the dim candles in the cave.
Mike was unable to shake the feeling of unease. Like he was the prey. Like something was lurking. His body was covered in goosebumps as he sat upright on the pallet and clutched his sword in his hand again.
He looked to his left, only to see the empty spot where the sorcerer had been sleeping earlier. Now he stood. Full alert. “Will?” He whispered, but this was the last of his worries.
From the corner of his eye in the cave where his sister’s unconscious body was, a shadow moved as gracefully as a ghost and too quick for Mike to really see it. Like the flicker of light. A trick of the eye. But it was enough to make him panic. “Holly!?” He called out, dashing to the cave. The blankets took the shape of a sleeping body, but there was no movement. Her breaths did not come and go. Quickly, he tugged the blanket back.
She was gone.
His sword was clutched so tightly in his hands that his fingers threatened to snap, and when he opened his mouth to shout, no sound came out. As if something had taken his voice. The only sound was his heartbeat and his blood rushing past his ears. Even his breaths, which were sharp and fast, were inaudible.
He turned around with force. The knight stood behind him. The one he had seen when he closed his eyes. The one he had killed.
A sword was protruding from his lungs still, blood dripping over the cave floor– eyes hollow like he was possessed.
Mike couldn’t scream. He couldn’t ask it to go away. He couldn’t even fight. His limbs were now frozen, and now he knew: This is what it was like to be completely defenseless. And as the knight outstretched his arms and grabbed Mike by the neck, Mike knew what it was like to not have any say over his own death. No matter how much he wanted to plead for his life, he could not. When he looked into his eyes, Mike knew what it was like to see a killer. A real killer.
Though he had his doubts that this was real at all, he couldn’t help but ask himself, Is this what I looked like to him? Am I a killer? But the thought was gone in a flicker when he shot up from his pallet, cicadas buzzing and birds swinging, and the sun had just come up.
A dream.
It was all a dream. Yet, he still clutched at his neck, he still took sharp intakes of air and felt grateful that he could feel his lungs expand.
“Holly?” He called out, scurrying to his feet desperately quick while the sword stayed in his hands.
She was asleep on her cot, mouth hanging open like she had been dreaming the sweetest dream. Mike had felt a wave of relief wash over him as he moved closer to put the blanket over her shoulders once more, watching as she stirred slightly, then turned the other way.
In this moment of chaos, the morning seemed to calm him. The orange rays of light reflected off the dew that coated the grass, the river’s constant sound washed over the forest, and the wind rummaged through the sorcerer’s handmade windchimes. They were strung up and, though they lacked any ritzy, golden trim or expensive metals like Mike had been used to seeing, they had a certain charm to them that he couldn’t deny.
His feet brought him into the open air, dragging him along the slim desire path that Will (who was still tucked in under his ratty blanket) had no doubt made over the past couple of years until he could see his muddled reflection in the water. He allowed himself to breathe deeply, grateful now, more than ever, that he could do so. He remembered Lucas’ words about how his father had gone crazy after killing a man. Mike had been foolish to believe he might slip out from this cruel punishment.
Now, he dropped lightly onto his knees until the palms of his hands scraped the water’s surface, picking up a piece of the river and using it to wake himself up. The water was cold on his face. The trees were coated in the mossy spirals and Mike suddenly became interested in them all over again, tracing them with a pointer finger freely. Allowing his mind to wander.
Part of it felt surreal.
Only yesterday had he been miserable at the castle, doing the thing he usually did which was imagining his escape that would never come. But now, even if he is still on duty, even if he is supposed to keep an eye on this sorcerer, he can’t help but feel happy. At peace. Like he was meant to be here rather than anywhere else.
If he could have it his way, he would have no role in his kingdom, but be a wandering man left to his books in that cave he had fallen deeply in love with. Everything about it, from the granite walls to the dried herbs that lined them, was all so neatly strung together to feel so warm and homey.
From behind him, a twig snapped. It was a sharp and sudden movement which made him instinctively wrap a hand around the grip of his sword and shift his weight to his back foot.
It was Will.
His clothes had been the same as the ones he slept in, a slightly loose white shirt and brown pants. He wore a belt around his waist, and where Mike usually kept his sword, the druid had potions. The same ones Mike had found on a shelf back at the cave, glowing and simmering.
His hair had been tied back behind his neck. The front pieces were like curtains around his face, drooping just enough to cover some of his keen features Mike had taken notice of yesterday. The mole by his ear. The small scar right on his temple. The patch of freckles along the nape of his neck. All hidden.
Though Mike had been curious why Will didn’t keep his hair short, he didn’t dare ask. Partially because he didn’t care but mostly because he had no interest in talking to this sorcerer.
Will had put his hands slightly up in the air, showing Mike that he meant no harm. The prince had reluctantly released his grasp on his sword and watched as Will made his way down the nature-built staircase. He still wore no shoes. This was another thing Mike wanted to know about, but he bit his tongue and turned away.
“You know, I’m really not going to hurt you.” Will said from behind the other. His voice was soft. Genuine. “Or your sister.”
Mike said nothing.
Will sighed, “I understand that there’s this whole…feud between the sorcerers and the royals, but I have no interest in all that.” Mike allowed himself to picture this silly idea– a sorcerer who had no interest in taking on a royal. That was almost laughable. “And, Holly, she's a special case, you know? Sort of like a bridge between worlds.”
Mike turned so harshly that his cape snapped in the rush, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Will had gotten closer in the time the other had been facing away. His footing never stuttered, as if Mike’s anger had no effect on him whatsoever. Mike was not used to a reaction like this, but one where he would see even the slightest twitch of their eyebrow or the faintest of frowns on their faces. But Will looked calm. Almost happy.
“I just mean that she can be a new opportunity for us sorcerers.” Will explained. He took another step forward, and if Mike hadn’t been pushed up against the riverbank, he might have taken a precautionary step back.
His eyebrows furrowed, “So that’s why you took this job? Not because you had any interest in teaching my sister, but to benefit your kind?”
Will shrugged casually. “More less.” Mike twitched at this answer. How blunt. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think Holly has amazing potential and I'm looking forward to training her. I’m still human, though, and my intentions while taking this job were selfish.”
Why didn’t he lie? Wouldn’t this be the proper thing to do in a situation where you were trying to manipulate someone? Mike only had one other conclusion for his honesty, and that was that he seriously was being genuine. This had been the more unlikely of the two.
Will sighed, then took a bigger step forward, causing Mike’s hand to wrap around his sword once again. “We got off on the wrong foot.” Will said, simply, with an arm extended, “Even though you were rude, I’m willing to forget about it and start over, yeah?”
Mike let the idea flicker in his mind, but he already knew his answer had been set in stone before the proposition even came out of Will’s mouth. Mike scoffed, “Yeah, right, so you can turn around and set me on fire? I don’t think so.”
“If I wanted you dead, Michael, you would already be. Just shake my hand.”
“Forget about it!” Mike now drew his sword out, nicking Will’s bare wrist almost enough to cut the skin off. The druid didn’t wince. Didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. They sat there staring into each other’s eyes, Mike only just now realizing they looked more green than they had the day before, until Will’s neck tilted just the slightest amount. It could have been mistaken as a trick of light, but the second the movement happened, the tree to Mike’s left let out a terrible groan, and from the mossy spiral he had once been fond of, a wooden hand emerged and grabbed his sword as quickly as the speed of sound.
Suddenly, Mike was watching as the bark grew around the blade, hugging it until it had become just an imprint within the surface of the tree.
“What the–” Mike tried to wrap a hand around it, but it had gone too far into the center of the tree. Like it had swallowed it, “What the fuck!” He shouted, “Give it back!”
“Sorry, but if you don’t trust me, why should I trust you?” Will said, rubbing the spot on his wrist from where Mike’s blade had scraped. “Really is unfortunate. All you had to do was shake my hand.”
“Fine! Whatever, I’ll shake your hand, just give me back my sword!” Mike stuck his hand out, but Will had turned around in an instant.
“Sorry, Mike. That’s not how this works.”
Mike was now filled with rage. If he didn’t have his sword, he couldn’t protect, and he couldn’t protect, then he had no worth. No purpose. He seethed, hands balled into tight fists until he lunged at Will, taking him completely off guard with his stealth and speed. He straddled the druid, and in the blink of an eye landed a solid, hard punch on his jaw. It sounded as though a bone had been split, and from the hot pain spreading through Mike’s fist, he wouldn’t have been surprised if it was his own. Regardless, he landed one more firm punch before being thrown in the air by the strongest gust of wind he had ever felt. Almost like a tornado had swept through the treeline.
His head landed heavy on a rock, making his vision suddenly blurry and everything around him seem faint.
He didn’t know if he had been bleeding, but from the heat on the back of his skull coupled with him being able to feel his heartbeat at the tips of his fingers, he wouldn’t be surprised.
Will was a shadow in his view, panting with a shrewd angry face, and now he was the one with the fists at his side. Mike was too weak to fight back, and for a moment he felt completely and utterly useless. He tried to fight off the wave of darkness, he tried to stand himself up, but every movement made him feel weaker and weaker until he had just given into the feeling of hopelessness for the first time in his life.
Will’s hand was now outstretched, hand open like he was waiting for something to fly into his grasp.
Mike could see his features. His lip was bloody, hair was a mess and had come out from its wrap and draped down into his face of insanity. Angry. Like there were flames behind his eyes.
And suddenly, Mike heard a whisper.
Now he was sure he had completely lost it. However, the only thing that made his hope return was when Will’s face seemed to soften. As if Mike had not been the only one to hear the voice that began to multiply more and more until it was like they were in a crowd of ghosts.
Mike was slipping in and out of consciousness. His breathing was slowing. When the white fog glimmered over his body, it sent a chill down his spine, and from all of the intelligible voices around him, he could only make out Will’s, and he muttered the softest, “Why him?” And Mike blacked out.
Chapter 3: A Lesson in Water
Notes:
I know that Mike and Will seem out of character right now, but please trust me that it gets better! Also I have no clue how to promote a fic at all TvT
Chapter Text
“Again.” Mike’s father shouted at him.
He had never wanted to relive this memory ever again. He had pushed it out of his sight to be forgotten about, but when the only place you have left to go is the back of your mind, you are guaranteed to find the darkest of memories.
He was watching as if he was a townsman passing by the arena, looking at the younger version of himself and his father before age had caught up to him. Maybe during that time, he had never realized just how little he was, and maybe now that’s what made it all the more saddening.
He might have been nine or ten. His sword outweighed him a good amount, as did his armor and comically large helmet he kept balanced on his shoulders. He huffed out a breath and charged at the training dummy in front of him, slicing its makeshift arms and head off with three loud grunts.
His dad kept his hands behind his back with a sword dragging a path in the dirt as he circled his son. “You’re sloppy. It’s not good enough, do it again.” WIth a nod, the dummy was replaced with a new one.
Mike had lost count of how many of these artificial men they’d gone through, panting and trying to suck in as much air as he could through the stifling helm, he charged again. This time was one quick movement, one swing of the sword, and the dummy was, quite literally, disarmed.
“Your footwork was lazy. Again!”
He charged.
“Your shoulder was too low. Again!”
The dummy was replaced.
“It’s not good enough, dammit! Do it again!”
Again and again and again. How many times would they go on like this? When Mike thinks back to his childhood, this was the majority of it. The practices until he was purple in the face and begging to stop, until he couldn’t breathe, until he thought death sounded pleasurable.
He collapsed. His metal knees hit the ground with a clang and he held his sword to his side like it was a cane. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His father asked him. His words were harsh and echoed through the memory. “Get up, Michael! If this were a war you’d have been dead.” He could practically feel all of the dirt drying up in his lungs.
“I…” He squeaked. His voice was hard to hear. Barely understood. “I can't." He breathed.
“I can’t understand you when you’re crying. For fucks sake, stand up and fight like a real man!”
As Mike watched the memory, it was hard for him to keep his cool. He had been so accustomed to not crying, but seeing the shell of his younger self and quite possibly the last time he had ever shown emotion like that, he found it hard to not let at least his eyebrows furrow. He knew what was going to happen next. He waited for it with his hand clutched at his side.
Suddenly, his father was in a full, fiery rage. He kicked his foot forward, hitting Mike promptly on the abdomen and turning him over on his back. The taste of blood was potent in his mouth once more, because how can you forget that? If he thought he couldn’t breathe before, he certainly couldn’t now. He groaned out muffled pleads until his dad ripped the helmet off his head, staring intensely at him. The little boy was sobbing now.
“If you think this is hard then you’re not suited to be a prince, nor my son! You have nothing else, Michael. You’ve no magic, no leadership, no skill. This sword makes you have the smallest shred of worth. Without it, you’re nothing.” That reminder hurt worse than any kick, stab, or wound could ever. He nodded and limped to his feet.
“Again.” his father mumbled.
–A Lesson in Water–
From one headache to another, Mike was being pulled out of this hazy memory like a hand dragging him through a field. Slow, yet refreshing, until he was sitting in that familiar cave, looking up at the granite ceiling as the sunlight pooled in from the gap.
He was grateful to be out of that, perhaps darkest, part in his life. He had never realized just how much that memory had truly resurfaced until he was without his sword and the words his father had said were suddenly branded on his skin. No worth. But, was this present time any better?
Something smelled faintly of lavender and smoke, but looking around felt nearly impossible with his woozy state and pulsing head. He hurt all over like he had been chewed up and spit out. His head felt heavy and refused to lift up when he commanded it to do so.
From his dizzy state, he could make out two voices. “Holly, can you check his leaves, please?” It was Will, no mistaking that. He felt anger rush through his body.
There was something slimy being pulled off his arm. Sticky and grotesque. “It looks like his skin is… glowing. Is that supposed to happen?” She asked, returning the cold leaf to his arm.
Will laughed, “That just means it’s working.”
“What kind of plants are those anyways? I haven’t seen anything like them at Hawkins.” Holly was no longer by her brother’s side, but faint and as quiet as Will’s voice.
“Well, they’re magic ones. They’re not exactly common and the seeds cost just about an arm and a leg. I grow them in my garden across the river.” Will mumbled something under his breath like he was reading out loud, then he whispered, “Oh, here it is.”
Mike desperately wanted to see what Will was looking for, what they were doing, and what these mysterious leaves wrapped around his arms were. He had gotten his mobility back only partially, but nothing more. He still listened to their conversation.
“Will you teach me about medicine too?” Holly asked.
Will chuckled at her childish keenness, “If you want to learn, then of course. Though, it’s not exactly the most enthralling hobby.”
“Oh.” Holly sighed. “Then why do you do it?”
Though Mike was still near death, even he could feel the air get thicker. Will hesitated over his words for a second, hiccuping his um’s and uh’s until he swallowed and– with all the happiness he could conjure, said, “Well, I’m living out here all alone, right? I gotta take care of myself somehow.” His cheerfulness even fooled Mike for a moment. “This should heal him up.”
Mike’s eyes were able to look around through the tiny slits in his eyelids. From it, he could see Will’s swollen face and loose hair. He now wore a green, almost mossy cape over his shoulders, and in his hand was a small tube that held a glowing purple liquid.
The fright Mike had felt looking at this concoction had somehow allowed him to regain his mobility in a heartbeat, sitting upright and away from where Will's hands would have landed had he not moved.
“What the hell is that?” Mike asked through his throbbing headache. His hand swatted to his forehead as if it would numb the pain.
Will was completely caught off guard, hand still lingering in the air and lips parted, “You’re awake? You need to lay back down! You’re still healing–”
“Healing?” Mike scoffed, ripping those cold leaves off his arms. They resembled seaweed more than anything, dark green and long. “I’m fine, just leave me—“ but when Mike stood, it felt like his lights had turned off once more. Electricity shot through his scalp like someone had been slicing him open with a scalding dagger.
Will caught onto his stumble, placing a hand between Mike’s shoulder blades and allowing him to push his weight onto him until he was sitting once again. “I told you…” he sighed under his breath. If Mike hadn’t been in one of the most uncomfortable pains he’d ever felt, he would have heard how Will’s voice was still bitter. Mad. “You got a concussion when you fell and hit that rock.” He said.
“Fell?” Mike echoed. How incredulous. Unless Mike had made it up, which from the looks of Will’s bruised face—he hadn’t, Mike had landed a few good punches on Will before the other threw him through the air.
However, before Mike could correct him, he caught his look. His gaze. The way his eyes flickered to an innocent and worried Holly who had a rag covered in splotches of blood twisted in her hands. She shouldn’t know about the fight, and this was what Will was trying to say.
The first time they had agreed on something.
Mike raised an eyebrow, “Yeah… nicked my head real good.” He put a hand on his wound, now able to feel the swelling and not daring to put any pressure on it.
Holly frowned, “You need to be more careful, Mike! It wasn’t even two whole days and you’ve hurt yourself.”
He groaned “How long was I out for?” Mike asked, now looking over to Will.
The sorcerer bit nervously at the skin of his lip. “You were kind of moving around a bunch in your sleep and…I had to make sure you were still because you needed stitches…so I…” Will couldn’t look Mike in the eyes.
“You..?” Mike shot back, but he already knew the answer and he knew he didn’t like it.
Will sighed, “I used a spell. You’ve been asleep for 2 days, but it was necessary for your health and your survival!”
Mike stood harshly. Now he expected the rush of pain, but pushed through it. His face was inches from Will’s, “Necessary my ass! If I figure out you put me in some weird fucking trace I will kill you, alright?”
Now, Will no longer cared about his fake composed persona.“Do you seriously think you’re that important to me?” He shot back, digging a finger into Mike’s chest.
“Important enough that you went through all the trouble of saving me!” Mike rolled his eyes. He could feel the vein forming on his forehead.
Will rolled his eyes, “You’re so full of yourself. If I didn’t save you, they’d have pinned your death on me. I saved you to save myself.” Will said.
“Oh, whatever!” Mike groaned and walked off. He tripped on his footing for a moment, stabilizing himself by grabbing the cave wall before walking out to the fire.
The air was colder today, and as he looked up, he could see the clouds were heavy and low hanging. Almost a daunting shade of grey that loomed over the forest like a warning.
Everything hurt. He had felt pain, and he had the scars to prove it, but this was something else. Something internal. His ego had been bruised, and badly, too. No denying this. He had once been so confident that he could take this sorcerer out of his (or Holly’s) life depended on it, but now he wasn’t so sure.
he revisited the riverbank, running a hand down the trunk of the tree that had swallowed his sword. The only proof that it was still in there was the splinter that stabbed into Mike’s hand, causing hims to wince and gnaw at it with his teeth until it was released. He thought about cutting it down, but with what? And then what? Had he really just amounted to a sword after all these years of training.
A wave of pain shot through him again. He held onto the tree for stability, but his knees buckled from his weight. He fell onto them. He saw that rock that was now painted in his blood, and now he felt embarrassed. He was angry, and not at the suspected person, but at himself. How could he have been so stupid, letting his fury take over himself so fast at the first sign of weakness.
Mike figured he’d never be able to admit to himself that there was someone out there more powerful than him, but within knowing Will for hardly a day, his mind began to get littered with doubt.
“Are you okay?” A voice asked him. Had it not been for him seeing spots and being covered in pain, he might have noticed Will standing next to him for quite some time now.
“Go away.” Mike groaned, faltering when he tried to stand himself back up and falling once again. His entire body felt like an open wound.
Will rolled his eyes, “Look, Mike, you really hurt yourself, okay? You need to drink this, it will help.”
“I don’t need help from you. If I can’t walk off a concussion, then I’m weaker than I thought…my body’s just being stubborn.” Mike slurred out his words.
“It’s not your body, Mike, it’s you! Fuck… would you just drink this? Holly is worried sick about you. She’s barely left your side the last two days.”
Mike felt a smile appear on his face, “You’re sure Holly is the only one who’s worried?”
Will sighed, unamused to say the least, “I cannot teach her when she’s attached to your hip.” He said monotonously. “Please, Mike, drink this. It wasn’t easy to make…” The last part was whispered, but for some reason, Will’s words only made Mike’s body erupt into flames again.
“Didn’t I get a concussion because there was a lack of trust?”
“It’s not a lack of trust, Mike, it’s zero trust at all! I’m trying to help you, and you’re too stubborn and prideful to accept it! This is the problem with you royals is you always think everyone is out to get you.” Will was seething. His words were spoken through his teeth.
Mike finally balanced himself to his feet but still clung to the tree, “You–literally– threw me across the woods and made me hit my head!”
“Yeah, after you punched me in the face!” Will sighed, pointing his nose to the clouds. Mike got a glimpse of his bruises. Deep maroon and a slight yellow. His lip was still split.
The prince sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had nothing to say, because Will had not been the only one in the wrong.
In two strides, Will was now face to face with Mike. He was shorter, Mike now noticed, and full of warranted rage, “Look, I’m not asking you to like me– hell, you don’t even have to enjoy my company, but I am asking that you be civil… for Holly. This is important to her, and if you come along and ruin it by your aggression, then you’re just a self absorbed asshole, alright?” Mike only blinked.
No one had ever dared to put him in his place like that, because they knew that would result in a duel. A fight. Anything Mike could do to salvage his ego. Will sighed and spoke again, “Drink this. I don’t care what else you do, but Holly can’t concentrate when her brother is in pain.”
He pushed the tube into Mike’s chest until the other had wrapped his lanky fingers around it. Will turned on his heel and went back to the camp, leaving Mike alone with the white noise of the river and the song of the birds.
He hated his stubbornness sometimes. Sure, it had its rewarding moments, but most of the time it only dug him into a hole which left him struggling to find his way out. He sighed while letting his eyes flicker over the tube, thinking about whether or not he wanted to drink it.
He came to the conclusion that Will had been truthful about many things, and the number one being that if he truly wanted the prince to be dead, then he would have already been. Will didn’t have to go out of his way to save him just to kill him again. Mike popped the cork off with trembling hands and in one swift movement, which made a fire ricochet through his head, he drank every drop of the liquid before his pride could argue.
It was strange. Like some sort of icy metal had entered his bloodstream and obliterated any and all agony his body had been in. He shuttered. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before– quick and calming. It hardly had a flavor to it, which had been the most shocking part due to its potent lavender smell.
Mike was able to walk on his own now, almost like he hadn’t been in any pain in the first place. Striding back up to camp he found Will and Holly holding their palms out. Holly laughed as Will made a joke about her stance and how she needed to “turn her body into a liquid.”
He entered the cave and listened to her laughter echo off the walls. Will was right. Holly needed a brother, not a prince. He sighed and slammed the empty tube down on the table.
“I think you’re really going to enjoy this lesson,” Will smiled as he peeked out of the cave and watched the rain begin to fall.
“Mike!” Holly squeaked, “It’s my first official lesson today! Will says I’m going to be able to control my water magic.”
“With time!” Will added on with a finger in the air. Holly sighed and nodded at him.
“With time.” She mumbled. Mike only smiled at her and watched as she trotted to his side, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a hug. She had always been sort of affectionate, especially to their mom and Nancy, so this was nothing new. Mike gave her a gentle pat on the head. “Are you coming with?”
Mike noticed that Will was pulling a bag over his shoulders made from leather and bound together with twine. He raised an eyebrow, “Aren’t you doing the lesson here?” He asked.
Will shrugged, “Usually we do, but this one’s a bit different.”
Mike frowned now, “Different…how?” He tried to dilute his distrust at least to where it wasn’t noticeable in his voice.
“Well, if I tell you it just ruins the surprise. Now, are you staying or going?” But Will already knew the answer to his question, and with the slight smirk on his face, Mike knew he did.
If Will really thought that Mike was going to leave the two of them alone together, then he was dead wrong. Granted, Holly and Will had been alone when Mike had been knocked out, but if he can help it, he will be there next to Holly protecting her. Swordless as he may be, he nodded and followed them out of the cave.
The walk was nothing short of beautiful, and yet daunting. They teetered along the river most of the way and the moss and grass had become slick in the rain. The drops pecked lightly at the trees’ canopy, dripping into the rushing river as they walked farther and farther into places Mike had never been to. Some animals had come out of their hiding places, and Mike had noticed they had all been rather fond of Will in particular.
Once, a raven had swooped down and landed on his shoulder for a mere second before squawking and fluttering back to its branch. The mice came from their burrows and ran past his feet, squeaking as if they were laughing. Mike thought it to be rather odd, but charming nonetheless.
Holly took notice too and kept her finger pointed as if waiting for a tiny bird to land on it. She was leading after a while, and Mike held up the back. He felt naked without his sword and his armor, but due to his swelling and the need of all his agility, he couldn’t afford to put on the heavy metal suit for their journey.
Will had slowed down to match Mike’s pace, and if the prince hadn’t been taking in all of the serene nature around them, he might have noticed sooner. “How do you feel?” Will asked pointedly. Mike snapped his head around and was met with a pair of green eyes, even though they had once been brown back at the cave.
He shrugged, “Better, I guess.”
Will nodded, “That’s…good!”
There was a beat of awkwardness when Will didn’t pick up his pace and sort of lingered at Mike’s side. A sort of unexplained warmth that Mike didn’t know how to place. This time it had not been anger or pain, but a sort of desire to talk. He thought for a moment, “So…” He muttered, making Will turn his head. “Where are we actually going?”
Will peeked at Holly who had now resorted to bird calls, whistling and tweeting as if they would communicate back and land on her finger. Will laughed, “It’s where I first learned to control my water magic. It’s a bit…dangerous, but effective.”
“Dangerous how?” Mike asked.
Will’s face twisted up, “It’s probably best if you just see for yourself.” He said, coming to a sudden stop. “Holly, it’s over here!”
She turned around, giddy in her footsteps until she had looked to where Will had been pointing.
A makeshift bridge over the water made from a tree that had fallen down and since been coated in moss stood in front of them. Mike’s heart sank imagining Holly out there on it trying to perform spells. “Are you crazy?” Mike gasped, “She’s not going out there! She could fall in the water!”
The tree’s sheer width was unfathomable. It likely was one of the biggest trees Mike had ever seen, but this didn’t make it an easier pill to swallow. Will chuckled and took his bag off. “It’s perfectly safe, I promise. Holly, you first.”
Holly had swallowed her fear in the matter of seconds, smiling and taking Will’s hand as he assisted her onto the rotting bark.Her feet did not quiver and her legs did not shake. Perfectly composed. Brave. Though the rapids made the water turn white, she spun on her heel with her arms out and laughed as her sleeves caught the wind.
Will tied his hair back, and this was the first time Mike had ever seen his druid mark. It was much darker than Holly’s. Almost purple and seemed to glow when the light hit it perfectly. But, Will had dropped his hair and it concealed it once again. Just before he could jump on the fallen tree, Mike reached out and grabbed his arm.
Why had he done this? There was no thought behind it, no build up, no second guessing. Will looked just as surprised as Mike, who quickly released his grasp. “Uh…” He mumbled. “You’re aware that the other side of the river is Lenora’s land, right?”
Will laughed, “Well, of course, I know that. I was raised there, after all.” Mike had perhaps not been ready for the smile on the druid's face, watching his cheeks spawn a faint blush underneath his freckles.
“Right.” Mike spat, “Of course.”
And with another confused laugh, Will joined Holly on the tree. She had her mouth completely open, tongue out, catching all the raindrops that she could as they fell down and kissed her face. Mike was anxious watching her keep her eyes closed, but had decided that for this moment, he would allow Will to take control. So, Mike sat at the base of the tree, pressing his back up against a root that had once been covered by the Earth, and watched.
Will’s voice was a hum in the wind and rain. Mike couldn’t make out his soft voice, but he could see all of his movements and the way he held his hand out. He stood for a moment, facing the river so now Mike could see his profile and the way he closed his eyes, and with one deep breath, the rain seemed to slow down.
Mike had felt the cold pinpricks of water become less and less frequent on his clothes, and at first he had thought it to be a coincidence, until they had stopped in midair. Metaphorically frozen like shards of glass in the sky as far as the eye could see. Mike felt his mouth fall open, standing up to look around. He touched one with his finger and watched as the drop split in two. It was as if gravity had no effect on them at all, unlike anything he had seen.
Then, Will pulled his hand back and the rain crashed down just as hard as it had been before.
“How did you do that?!” Holly shouted, shaking the tree as she jumped. Will laughed at her excitement, running a hand over his druid mark.
Mike sat down once again and paid close attention as if the lesson was for him. As if he would ever be able to stop the rain.
Now, Will spoke clearly, “It took a lot of training, but I think any water spell is going to be super easy for your first one.” He smiled at her, and she beamed back as bright as the sun.
“Will I be able to stop the rain?” She asked.
He shook his head, “Not today. Today, I just want you to focus on the river.
Reluctantly, she nodded. He started their lesson, “All magic is rooted in your emotions. The more specific of a spell you want to cast, the more specific emotion you have to have. However, water is broad. You can feel happy…confused…sad…even fearful to cast a water spell. But, whatever it is, it just has to be powerful.”
Holly thought for a moment. “So, is that why there’s always wind when I’m nervous…or ice when I’m scared?”
Will laughed, “It is! I was like that too. I had no idea how to harness them, and they seemed more like a burden than anything. However, the more time passed, the more memories I had, the more emotions I had to channel."
Holly got into her slightly crouched stance, hand stretched out in front of her, “So, what do I think about?” She asked.
Will mimicked her position, “Think about a time when you were happy…maybe a time when you were sad if that feels right. Just anytime you had a strong emotion, use it. For me it was my time at Lenora with my mother.” Mike now had a keen interest in their conversation, listening harder to hear every word over the rushing river, “When I would go to work with my brother Jonathan or see my friends El and Max.”
In front of Will was now a stream of water spiraling in the air, hovering over the river where it once had been. The more he talked, the more it danced. “Max was a hunter. She would go past the border sometimes just to get my family something to eat for that week…” The water spiraled around him, putting him in a coil-like tube and circled around his arm. “...Jonathan and Mom would always try and pay her back, but she’d never accept it, but would always come to dinner.”
Mike couldn’t paint this picture in his head, which upset him. He wanted to know what these people looked like and how their house had been decorated. He wanted to know how Max had killed the deer and if she was any good with a sword. He would never ask these questions.
The water went back into the river just as calmly as Will had taken it out. Gently, just as he was with most things.
“You try. And do what I just did. Describe it out loud if it helps you.” Will instructed, standing up straight.
Holly sighed and closed her eyes, putting her palm in front of herself and thinking. Hard, too. Mike knew that they had never had the luxury of a normal life, and her even more so. She was born with her druid mark. Their dad had already made his mind up about her before she had been washed of her mother’s womb. He cared very little about what she did in her free time which was why she was often out in the courtyard chatting to the elders or playing with the other kids.
She didn’t speak her memory out loud, but with slight tribulation, the water rose like a tiny string from the rapids, unstable and not nearly as controlled, but improving. She had a slight smile on her lips, raising her arms while the water flowed just above her grasp, then falling onto the other side of the tree and back into the river.
“That was great!” Will laughed, “What memory did you think about?”
She shot a glance over to her brother, which Mike instantly noticed and sat upright. She smiled, “I thought about the time my father had been mad at me…I had broken something by accident. But that night, I went to Mike’s room and he stayed up with me until I fell asleep.”
He could remember this, vaguely. It happened years ago, and Mike knew better than anyone what it was like to be in the path of their father’s rage. So, when Holly had made a simple mistake and he lashed out, it hardly seemed fair. She had cried in his bed all night until she became so tired of her sobs and eventually drifted off. He didn’t get much sleep that night. Their chambers are far too big and empty for a child to sleep comfortably in them, and he knew that better than anyone.
He never thought someone would see him as a hero without a sword in his hands.
He smiled and shook his head at her. “Did you see my magic, Mike?” She shouted. Her voice bounced off the river.
He nodded his head at her, overly aware of Will’s eyes on him now. Will laughed, “Okay, now let’s work on it!”
–
“You’re going to have to drink more medicine.” Will said calmly after pulling the blanket over Holly’s shoulders. Her magic had exhausted her and she fell asleep promptly after eating her dinner that night. This time Will carried her to bed while Mike pulled the covers back.
Mike nodded softly, stealing one more glance at his sister before turning around to the cluttered table. He noticed that Will had papers scattered over it. Detailed charcoal drawings of all sorts of animals and trees that Mike had never seen before. In any case, he would have loved to stop and observe them, but for the time being, he let the moment pass. “It’s normal for her to be this… drained…right?” He asked.
She had formed the slightest dark circles under her eyes, but it was enough to make him worry. Will smiled, “It’s expected, actually.”
“Really?” Mike asked, more with exasperation in his voice than anything. To his knowledge, magic had always been innate and taken almost nothing to wield unlike his sword. However, after seeing their lesson today, he was starting to think maybe this hadn’t been true.
Will nodded, “I mean, emotional fatigue is just like anything else. It’s not easy– not at all. And especially when you’re first starting out…it all just kind of feels weird. Not a good weird either.”
Mike turned his head, “So, you’re saying that using magic is just as tiring as fighting with a sword.”
Will measured out the purple medicine into the small tube in his hands. The smile had yet to leave his face. “Well, it wouldn’t be fair for me to say fighting is more or less exhausting, considering I've never done it. Not properly, at least.” Will handed him the tube, their fingers brushed against each other’s and Mike was shocked to feel how cold his skin was.
He drank the tube with little trepidation this time, feeling it sting the back of his throat and melt away any lurking pain to come. “You’ve never been in a fight?” Mike asked. Just that sentence sounded foreign to him.
Will shrugged, “I’ve had to use my magic during conflicts…but no. I’ve never properly had a fight, I guess you could say.” He led the way to the fire with a coy smile on his lips, “The one with you was probably the closest I’ve come to one.”
Mike now felt a flicker of sadness inside of him. “Yeah…” an apology was right on his tongue, but why wouldn’t the words simply fall out of his mouth? He swallowed, “I still don’t trust you.” They sat on their pallets, Mike dug a finger into the ground as his face grew hot. Maybe from the fire. Maybe from being on the spot. “...but Holly does. And I guess that counts for something.
The druid breathed out a soft laugh, but said nothing, only turned over and pulled his blanket over his body.
Mike looked to his side, and shimmering in the moonlight in pristine condition was his sword. He took it into his hand at once, seeing that the leather had still fit into his hand perfectly, in all of the ducts and grooves that held his fingers. However, there had been something etched into it that pressed against his palm. He held it up to the firelight so see those three familiar spirals.
The mark of the druid.
He smiled and kept it by his side as he drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 4: Lessons for the Future King
Chapter Text
His arrow shot through the air and hit the target with a sharp thud. It was off center. Too high and slightly to the left–but, no matter. He would just shoot again. This time too far to the right. He grunted.
“So, he wasn’t like your father had said?” Lucas asked. He had been spinning a knife in the dirt, watching as it caught the glint of the setting sun in its metal.
Dustin sat next to him and had taken off most of his armor. How long had they been out there? Long enough for the minutes to bleed into hours. Long enough to know that Mike had something great on his mind.
The prince shook his head as he reached for a new arrow. “No.” He released it. Too low. A hiss from behind his teeth, “I mean, yes, but… I don’t know. I guess I got the feeling that he actually didn’t completely hate me.”
“Well what the hell does that even mean?” Dustin asked, standing to retrieve all the arrows that Mike had lost. They all had yet to hit the center, which was unusual of Mike. Once he had split three separate arrows in one go, that was how precise he tried to be. He could hit a moving target with his eyes closed, but now it seemed as though he had never held a bow in his life. Like a baby learning to walk.
Mike sighed and unstrapped his armor which now felt too heavy for him to wear. “I don’t know, alright?”
He had told them about the odd feeling he had got out in the woods. How he had been completely on guard upon arrival but had not been met with hostility as he had expected to be, rather an unmovable object meeting another one. Incredibly frustrating, this was for sure, but the thought of this wizard now weighed heavy on his chest.
He didn’t visit his father when he returned to the castle. He knew he would eventually, but his report he would have to give wouldn’t meet the king's desire for something cynical. It was honestly quite jaded, besides all of the mythical and unexplained things that had happened while they were out there.
Lucas offered him a canteen, which he gladly took and gulped down almost all of the water, clearing his lungs of all the dirt he had swallowed from sparring and shooting. “You seem sort of…out of it.” Lucas spoke delicately.
Mike frowned, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dustin nodded his agreement, “You’re sloppy. You never miss a shot and now it’s like you’re struggling to land a single one.”
Mike tried to keep himself from baring his teeth. Instead, he grabbed his bow again, and put an arrow between his fingers. This time he allowed himself to focus, feeling the feather brush up against his knuckles as he breathed out a sigh, releasing the arrow and watching it thwip through the air and crash directly into the center of the target. “I didn’t shoot all week. I just needed to warm up.” He said, simply.
“Look, man,” Lucas began, “Your dad’s not gonna like it if you tell him what you just told us. He may not even believe you.”
Dustin handed Mike the rest of the arrows, “He’s right…” Now he ran a hand through his sweaty curls, “Did anything else happen? I don’t know, maybe a fight of some sort?”
Mike hesitated for a moment. Why had this truth been hard to say? Their fight had seemed like such a nonevent now in the grand scheme of things. He had all but forgotten about it until those sporadic headaches would sneak up on him and he would be wanting that purple potion like water in the desert. He sighed, “No…” He sat next to Lucas, hands on his knees, “Nothing like that.”
“Maybe you should tell the King that you suspect something! Foul play or something along those lines.” Dustin suggested. This only angered Mike. Why couldn’t his father just accept the fact that a druid was perfectly normal? Kind, even.
“How’s that fair? If anything he saved me.” Mike sighed for the millionth time that night.
“Saved you?” The two knights asked in unison.
Mike had realized his mistake and almost caved. The story was on the cusp of being told, but he bit it back at the last second. “I fell…hit my head really hard. Hard enough to get a concussion, but… he patched me up. Gave me medicine. It just doesn’t feel right to sabotage him after that.”
“It’s not sabotaging, Mike.” Lucas spoke, “Besides, why is that so important to you anyway? You’ve known this guy– who’s a sorcerer, may I remind you– for a few days and now you want to– what… protect him? Seriously?” He scoffed.
And maybe he was right. Maybe Mike had been getting ahead of himself. He was druid, for fuck’s sake. One of the people he had been taught to hate and trained to fight. The people who suggested that they should rule where swords could not. Mike nodded, reluctantly, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“He is right.” Dustin chimed in. “He may seem like a good person, but don’t forget what he is.”
He nodded again and reached for his sword. The mark burned under his palm.
-Lessons for the Future King-
Dinner was surprisingly fruitful and lively. Holly had loved her time in the woods, but she was still a child and she missed her family. Especially her sister who she now sat next to, trying to make ripples in her wine.
“I held my palm out like this and the water started to float over the tree…” She’d been saying.
Mike, however, was not as joyous to be back in the castle as his sister had been. The fireplace carried a well-fed flame that made him think of the nights back at the cave where the only thing that kept him warm was animal hide and a fire conjured by magic.
A servant placed another log in the embers and Mike caught a glimpse of his worn shoes. Scuffed and stained the way all of the servant’s shoes had been with his laces tearing away. Mike remembered Will and how even when they went out to the fallen tree, he had been completely barefoot. It was weird, but since the druid had done most of his growing outside of his own kingdom, Mike was left to believe that he didn’t have the luxury of a new pair of boots.
“Michael!” Holly squealed from across the table. He snapped his head around to her, seeing her slightly worried eyebrows. How many times had she called his name before this? ‘’Tell mom about my water magic!”
“Water magic?” The King whispered from the head of the table, loud enough for only his son to hear.
Mike frowned, “I dunno. I mean…it was fine, I guess.”
“It was more than fine!” Holly shouted and slammed an excited hand on the table. “It was awesome! Will said I am going to be a lot stronger one day! He said I can stop the rain just like he did!”
Mike sighed into his hand. In a perfect world, she would be allowed to tell everyone what happened during her lessons from learning about which emotion fuels which element to how she could meld water with her mind. But the world is no such thing, and Mike could feel the fury starting behind their father’s eyes.
“Stopped the rain?” Their mom said with a surprised tone, looking over to Mike.
He nodded, “Yeah… it was just something he was trying to show her. I think to motivate her more than anything… make her excited.” Mike had been as truthful as he could be. To his knowledge, Will hadn’t meant anything else by this gesture. Maybe wanting to show off, but due to his humbleness, Mike thought that to be unlikely.
He heard his dad scoff with a mouthful of chicken. Mike’s plate had been untouched, as had Holly’s due to her inability to stop talking. She now sat on her knees and demonstrated how Will had looked when he made the drops freeze in midair, arm outstretched with her eyes closed. Her smile was the only thing that he hadn’t been wearing at the time, and it was practically glowing.
“He said he was thinking about his home back in Lenora with his mom–”
“Holly!” Mike whispered one warning very faintly. She didn’t seem phased.
“...and his brother! He was saying that he had these two friends Max and–”
“ENOUGH!” Their father’s voice was harsher than Mike had ever heard it before. A silence fell over the room. “I will not listen to your nonsense any longer! I sent you there to get a handle on your powers, not to laze around and make puddles! To send my own daughter to learn from a druid is shameful enough for me as a King, but now you come in here and you mock me with it?”
Holly bit her lip. She was scared. Mike felt his stomach sink seeing the tears swell in her eyes. “No, sir.” She said. Her voice was tiny. Weak.
“Then I won’t hear anymore of it. For the rest of your stay, you will eat your meals in your chambers.” With the wave of his hand, the servants grabbed her plate and pulled out her chair. Her feet were heavy against the floor as she trotted alongside them, blonde hair billowing out from behind her in her rush to escape. Her cries could be heard even with the door slammed to a close.
Mike was furious, but didn’t dare move.
The rest of them sat in silence for a moment longer until Nancy had decided she was done and excused herself from the table with a bow. And before Mike would piggyback off of his mom’s leave, the king had prodded him with a finger and instructed him to stay there. Their talk was unavoidable.
With the room completely empty, servants and maids included, Mike’s huffs of air were louder as they echoed off the walls.
The King stood and warmed himself by the fire. “What really happened while you were away? Clearly you weren’t doing your job as thoroughly as I had expected.”
Mike hated talking to his father, and even more so when they were alone. It was like a wave of memories had resurfaced, and he had no clue what to do with them. “Sorry, sir.” He mumbled. “The sorcerer didn’t seem to have any ill will against me… but, I’ll still keep a close eye on him.”
“You’d be smart to.” He nodded. His arms were crossed as he stared down at the flames. They seemed to mirror his emotions. Angry. Heated. “After what they did, no sorcerer can be trusted. No exceptions. If I had it my way, I would have them be exiled like Lenora…They’re aggressive. Animals.”
Mike traced the druid mark on his hand that had been embedded by his sword. Will? Aggressive? He was the most gentle person he had ever met. But…he hadn’t met very much. And maybe it had all been a show. A front that the wizard was putting up. Mike’s jaw was clenched tightly.
The King continued. “This Kingdom is crumbling. I’m not proud of the condition it will be in when you take over. But with Bob dead and his weak replacement, I am losing all my valuable people due to sickness. Disease.”
Bob had been their very trusted court-appointed physician for years. Mike had grown up with him and he had healed all of the wounds he had got from training. However, a year ago he (ironically) died from an unknown disease, and his replacement– Clarke– didn’t have near the experience as his predecessor.
Mike only nodded his head, though his father’s back was turned towards him.
His father continued. “We’re going into an impoverished depression, Son.” Now he turned and faced the prince. It had been the first bit of information he had given Mike relating to the condition of the kingdom.
Mike frowned, “Why are you telling me this?” He asked.
The king shrugged his royal blue cape off his shoulders and rested it on the back of a chair. “I feel it’s time you know. You’re no longer a kid. As the king-to-be, you should have… insight.”
The prince did not nod nor shake his head, only looked at the mark on his palm while his dad’s voice continued.
“I stopped praying for dragon scales long ago– those… those are some powerful things that’ll make the poorest man rich. But, with their extinction, I have started thinking of new plans. New routes to take. Something– anything– to end this…”
Mike finally looked at his father, “What did you come to?” His voice was a mere whisper.
The King sat heavily in his chair, “Nothing.” He said. No build up. No excuse. The truth and nothing more. “I have lost sleep over this, but I’ve come to terms with the loss of my kingdom and figured the less people I have to feed, the less money I’ll have to spend. As selfish as it sounds, Kings must do what they can to reign and control, and you’ll do well to remember that.”
Mike blinked. Surely, his father was joking, because this was a new low. Even for him. “So… people are dying and you’re okay with that because– what? It saves you a coin or two?” He was careful with his tone, but not so much his words.
“Precisely.” His father yawned. “There’s always foul play behind power. It doesn’t come easy, and it’s a dogfight to get it to stay as well. That’ll be your first lesson when you start training to become the King.”
Mike bit the insides of his cheeks to keep him from saying anything stupid or that he would regret. He hated seeing this side of his father, not that the other sides were any better, but he often wondered what it would be like to have a normal dad and how different his life would be without so much corruption.
“May I be excused?” Mike asked, bowing slightly and taking his leave when his father waved his hand.
-
That night seemed to drag and stretch like none before. Mike could not shake that unknown feeling in his stomach. A sort of distasteful guilt that he couldn’t place.
He’d been taught to never question his father’s authority and what-he-says-goes– if you question it, you’re the problem, but this was not something Mike was able to take lightly. People were dying. Real people with real lives. He had been outside of the castle walls enough to know that the ruler is just the pretty face everyone sees, but the workers; the blacksmiths, bakers, even the tavern owners– were the people that united them. The very foundation. And to let them just die so long as they didn’t have to pay for them to be fed. It was something he couldn’t blindly go into.
His chamber was cold that night. The bed had felt way too big and too far from his fireplace that had dwindled down to a small spark. If he were in the woods, he would have been much warmer and strangely, much more relaxed. His room brought about an exposed feeling. The woods, however, made him feel secure. Some sort of comfort that the eyes were off of him.
He stood and felt his bare feet on the cold stone floor. It was like walking over a frozen lake and he wondered how Will could ever have gone barefoot for extended periods of time.
Pushing his back towards the embers that he had just prodded with a metal rod, he felt the first wave of warmth coat him. He’d always gotten a good view of the arena from his stained windows, however, this time he looked past it. To the woods. Ironically, the same direction in which Will’s cave was, and Mike could have sworn, or maybe he’d hoped, he saw a line of smoke caught in the light of the moon.
Before he made way to his bed, he froze. He felt that cold rush down him as if the heat from the fire had done nothing. Fear.
Standing in the arena, looking up at him, was a dark figure. A silhouette, no less, with that familiar sword sticking out of his chest. He held no weapon, just his quiet, disapproving stance. Mike felt it when their eyes connected. Like the lingering ghost could see into his soul, but this time he was not sleeping.
It was the one thing he was sure of.
He stood like that for a moment– cold feet on the ground staring out at the man he’d killed. There was something…relieving about it. Their last encounter had not been so kind, but now he stood far away like a whispered reminder. Distant, and yet harsh.
He turned away and crawled back into his bed.
-
“Are you okay?” He asked.
Holly had breakfast in her room the following morning as instructed, and though Mike had really been looking forward to eating with his dad, his legs found themselves walking into his little sister’s room where they now sat across from each other.
She was mopey. Pushing her fruit around her plate with her fork but not taking a bite. Pale. Like she’d used her magic for the first time all over again. She nodded, sheepishly.
He frowned, “You know, you don’t have to hide that stuff from me. I was there with you.” Mike tried to make his tone sound cheery. Hopeful. Like she had something he never had, which was someone to open up to.
She gave no response.
“Look, Holly, I know dad was…um…harsh…but I won’t get mad at you for talking about it.” He tried again.
“It’s not the same.” she said. Curt. “You already know everything that happened. It ruins the surprise.”
Mike nodded and tapped a thinking finger on the table, “Well… you know Father’s never cared much for surprises.” She glared at his response. He sighed, “I wish that your excitement would warrant theirs, but it just… doesn’t. I mean– if I came up to you and told you about all the knives I’ve thrown at practice or… how many arrows I’ve shot… you probably wouldn’t be nearly as thrilled as I was, hm?” He said.
She finally met his eyes only for a moment, then her gaze flickered away.
He continued, “They may never find it as thrilling as you do… but, with time, you’ll come to terms with it.” And perhaps it had not been the advice she needed, but it was the only advice he had. He knew better than anyone that people will only expect things of you. They will tell you how to reach the goal they set, then do nothing to help and laugh when you fall.
He’d be dumb to lie to her.
“But, what if I do master my magic? What then? If there’s no place for a druid here, then there’s no place for me.” She said.
“That’s just not true–”
“It is, Mike!” She slammed her hand down on the table. Just as their father had done. “If I was not his daughter, I would be sentenced to a life of hell!” Tears now formed in her eyes. Her voice shook. “And… and I try so hard to please him. I thought that if I could show him my magic– make him see that it’s not a threat, that maybe he’d understand, but he doesn’t– he won’t!”
Mike had never seen her this way. He’d never heard her shout. He’d never seen her get angry. Not like this. He unclenched his jaw, “Nothing you ever do will please him.” He’d spoken it as if it had not carried the weight that it did.
Her face softened. Understood.
“You could kill hundreds… thousands of people with your magic… You could win wars for him, and he would still see you as one of them. Look, I don’t understand it any better than you do, but the sooner you realize that he’ll never be satisfied, the easier it’ll be for you to come to terms with.”
Her tears rolled softly down her face until they met her porcelain bowl with little pings. The morning light was coating her skin like honey.
Mike was reminded of the time his father had kicked him all those years ago. The painful memory seeped up like stomach acid in his mind, and he pushed it down.
“Why couldn’t I have just been born normal?” She whispered. Mike had asked himself this question every day.
“Druid or not, you’re a royal… You wouldn’t have lived a normal life either way.” Mike reaffirmed. “My point in saying all of this is… he’s going to be disappointed either way, so you might as well just do what you want.”
Her eyebrows were furrowed, “Is that what you do?” She asked.
He flinched. Suddenly, he was unexplainably uncomfortable. How hypocritical of him to sit there and preach about ways to live life, when he didn’t know how to live his own. He would be smart to take his own advice, but he’d already dug himself into a hole. And perhaps this one was too deep to crawl out of now.
He shook his head, “No… not at all. But, I wish it was.” The air was thick and coated with the scent of their breakfast. “...It’s different for me. I can’t just disobey, I have expectations. Duties. And after Nancy turned down the throne, it’s all up to me now.”
She quickly wiped her tears on the back of her hand in one last attempt to collect herself.
“But… hey don’t let him get to you, okay? You have Mom, and Nancy… and me. I’ll always be here for you… no matter what” said Mike.
She nodded once again, this time more vigorously as she stood and made her way around the table. She wrapped her arms around Mike tightly, as if he were falling apart. Her brother, who had never been very good at making anyone feel better, nor at reciprocating physical contact, gave her a light pat on the back until her sobs stopped.
-
The town was bustling more so now than ever, with the Prince’s return. The shop keepers had missed their loyal customer who usually stopped by and bought some bread and left more coins than what he owed. Mike was prone to doing this– he had more money than any man his age could imagine, after all. It would not be fair to keep it all to himself.
A few of the elders sat out by their wooden booths offering discounts on their almost-molded tomatoes. (“Perfect for making your soups with!” They’d say to their customers as they walked by.) But, Mike didn’t stop here when he was waved down.
He stood out like a sore thumb, polished armor and all, but there were knights everywhere. The thing that truly made him different from everyone else was when he turned into the shop that made boots.
It was known that the knights were supplied all of their equipment, down to their socks and shoes, and they didn't have to pay a cent… usually. But, on this particular occasion, Mike had someone else in mind.
The man who ran the unit was fat and old with a messy eyebrow that covered both of his eyes. He wore a weathered apron made from leather, but didn’t tie it in the back. This was partially due to his sheer roundness, and maybe due to his fingers not being as nimble as they once were.
“Prince Mike!” he said, and how he could see Mike remained a mystery. Mike couldn’t even look at his eyes during the duration of their chat.
“Hello.” said Mike rather awkwardly when the man bowed lower than needed.
“What brings ya in?” said the man.
“Sort of a commission. I need you to make me a pair of boots… Can they be a priority? I need them by Monday morning.”
“Well, I can try my best, but if you want a real good pair it’ll take me a little over a week.”
“No, no, I’d like them early.” Mike reinstated.
The man ran his hand through his thick beard. The whole place smelled of tobacco and leather, which (in Mike’s opinion) really went well with the whole wooden look the place had going for it. Wooden desk, wooden shelves, even a wooden exterior.
“Usually I would turn such an offer down, but since you’re the prince… I suppose it would be unkind to do such. I can make them for you, free of charge for the prince, yeah?”
“No!” said Mike. Perhaps a bit too loud. Too hastily. “No… I want to pay for them.”
The man raised his brow. His eyes were a blinding blue color that immediately made the prince uneasy. He looked away. “I won’t argue with you, Prince Mike.” he said, then waddled toward his desk. “A few questions, though, do you know what size they will be, what kind of leather you’re wanting? And what about buckles and such, are any accessories of interest to you?”
It had dawned on Mike that he, embarrassingly, hadn’t thought this far ahead. He didn’t know how he imagined the boots to look like, nor did he know what size of shoe Will wore. He rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous hand and answered the questions as best as he could.
Chapter 5: Spirals
Notes:
sorry for inactivity! I've been a little busy with the holidays!
Chapter Text
Upon returning with their horses, Mike had kept the pair of boots hidden in his saddlebag. They’d turned out better than he’d expected, given the short notice– sleek leather, polished buckles, even a little nook on the inside to stuff a pocket knife if he pleased (though, Mike assumed Will did not. He didn’t seem to be the aggressive type, and if he had been, he relied on his magic, not a blade.)
And there Will was, barefoot and all, nose pressed in a book as he made small incantations to stir the pot in the cave or make the fire burn brighter.
“Oh, hello!” said Will. His words were kind. Excited.
Holly hadn’t returned his excitement, however. She had still been moping with the punishments she’d received from her father over the weekend and the new knowledge that all of this had been, essentially, for nothing.
She brushed past and sat her things down on the bed.
Will raised an eyebrow at Mike, “She okay?” He asked in a hushed voice.
Mike observed his sister for a moment. He was worried, no doubt about that, but he also held out hope that she would be back to her usual self in no time. He simply nodded, “She’s fine. Father isn’t taking too well to the lessons, so she’s a bit upset, but I’m sure she’ll get over it.”
“What did he say?” said Will, giving her a worried glance.
Mike shook his head, “It’s really nothing. Once she starts her lessons, I’m sure she’ll forget about it.” He wasn’t one to spread the information that his father was not the man the kingdom thought him to be, nor would he paint him to be this amazing person. Indifference was a pain when it mattered, but sometimes it was a vital resource.
Will remained silent as the other two settled into their select places. Mike was careful to string up the horses just outside of the granite wall. He looked out towards the river, the very ripples that tumbled throughout the rapids seemed to turn into spirals. The moss, the lines inside the tree stumps, even the tight little vortexes of leaves the wind created, all seemed to turn into a spiral design. It was all sort of enchanting– both figuratively and literally– the feeling that the forest carried with it. Enthralling. Exciting. Mike had felt, strangely, like this was where he belonged, and nowhere else.
He’d never admit that.
With one soothing hand over the horse's nose, he removed his sword and slid it into the sheath attached to his belt.
Will seemed to be a bit more distracted, Mike noticed, as he had become completely amazed with this nameless book. It floated in midair, seemingly with no effort at all, and followed Will around the cave as a servant would do to Mike in his chambers. He’d mutter something, slide a pointer finger under a sentence, then reach up and grab a tube filled with herbs or unknown liquids. Mike couldn’t help but watch.
At first, he decided to do so in silence, but after that pungent smell of smoky lavender filled the air, he suddenly realized what Will was up to.
“You don’t plan on knocking me out again… do you?” said Mike, half-jokingly.
“Hm?” the druid spun to meet his eyes. The potion that he had been making was certainly taking up a lot of his attention, for his gaze only lingered for a heartbeat. “Why do you say that?” said Will, then it was back to business.
“No reason… just, you’re making the same stuff you gave me when I passed out.” He informed.
“It’s a common recipe… good to have if anything happens.” said Will.
“So, then, it’s not for me?” Mike asked, suddenly his interest was piqued.
The druid only shook his head, but didn’t give Mike any more attention than that.
The prince lingered. After checking off the three things on his to-do list, he had been completely bored and practically useless, a feeling he wasn’t too sure he’d been familiar with. Perhaps he had been waiting for Will to put him to work– for Will to ask him to grab the herbs that were too high for him to reach… or for him to make sure everything had been measured out evenly. Mike was good with numbers.
Instead, and much to Mike’s dismay, Will didn’t strain to grab the things that were beyond his reach, but would flick his finger and watch as a vine unraveled from thin air, tightening the tube in its green grasp and bringing it down to him.
Mike sighed and left the cave.
He hadn’t come with his heavy armor this time. Chain mail and knee pads had been all he needed as the forest hadn’t felt like much of a threat as before.
And he waited, bored as ever, until Will had been babbling excitedly about something he was sharing with Holly. He spun around and watched the druids’ conversation with intention.
“Have you been practicing your water magic, Holly?” said Will.
She shrugged and pulled the blanket from her bag. “I didn’t get to leave my room much.”
Will frowned, “Well, is there anything specific you want to learn? I can’t make promises, but I can try my best.”
Holly tried to pretend like she wasn’t interested, but Mike saw the way her lips curled up into a sly smile. “I dunno…something cool.” She decided.
“Something cool, huh? Who are you trying to impress?”
“My friends back at Hawkins…” she said, then suddenly shot a glance over to Mike. He tried to make it seem as though he weren’t listening, but perhaps he had done so too late, because the next moment, she’d placed a hand around Will’s ear and whispered something into it. He burned with desire to know her secret, but acted like he didn’t care one way or the other.
“Oh? Well, I’ll bet if you showed them this they wouldn’t think that.” Will cupped his hands together as if he were going to make a bird call, aligning his thumbs in a way that was intentional, and stood so that his feet were flat on the cave floor.
Mike swore, and maybe he’d imagined it, that the spirals around him, hidden in the Earth’s designs, glowed. Only for a moment, like a silent second of magic flowing through the grass. He turned his eyes back to the druid, and as he opened his hand, a swarm of fireflies emerged.
In the cave, next to all of the floating candles, they had only looked like mere flames, but the way they danced and fluttered as if they knew they were conjured from magic. They glittered in Will’s eyes; in his smile when he looked down to Holly who was in awe, to say the least.
Mike gawked from a distance, mouth slightly parted as the bugs hit the sunlight and seemed to disappear.
“How did you do that?” Holly laughed. Her eyes were still wide with wonder. Like she’d forgotten any sadness.
Will shrugged, “It’s part of Earth magic.” He said, casually. “It’s a relatively easy one, I’m sure you can learn it by the end of this week, if you’d li–”
“YES!” Holly jumped in the air, then looked at her brother, “MIKE! ‘DJU SEE THAT?” She shouted.
He laughed, “Yes, I did!”
“Please teach me!” She tugged on the druid’s arm, “What kind of emotion do I need for that one? Uhh… a happy one? ‘Cause I’ve got tons of those!”
Will put a hand on her head, “You’ll learn it with time, okay? For now, why don’t you and your brother eat something? You shouldn’t do magic on an empty stomach.”
-Spirals-
Will had, unfortunately, been right when he said they should eat something. The familiar feeling of wonder had filled Mike’s stomach when he returned to the woods, he had forgotten he had been hungry in the first place.
It was some sort of weird soup Mike had never tried. Mushrooms and all kinds of spices. Thyme, oregano, even a blend that Mike didn’t know the contents of. He had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth and eaten thousands of well-cooked meals, but whatever was in this little wooden bowl of his, was better than anything he had ever eaten before. He had scarfed it down after his tongue grazed the surface.
Mike had been scraping all the remnants of soup out of the bowl rather loudly before Will said something.
“Did you like it?”
Mike looked at him, “Yeah.” He shrugged, “It was… okay.”
Will collected the bowls, neatly stacking them and was off to the river. The prince dragged a stick through the dirt, drawing little shapes and whatnot as he waited and waited and waited for something to do. Holly had busied herself by making those familiar strings of water flow around her, laughing when she would do it correctly, grunting when it would fall apart. She'd been in the right head space for her magic now, Mike noticed, as it all came more naturally to her-- whereas, she struggled to make the wine move in the presence of their father.
Once Will returned, whistling a tune with a smile on his face, he clapped his hands together, “Okay, ready for Earth magic?” he said.
Holly beamed from her spot by the fire, jumping up as quick as a lightning bolt.
“Do you have to go somewhere like last time?” asked Mike.
“Only a ways…” said Will, heaving his bag over his shoulder, “Come with us!”
Mike probably would never get used to that awe and wonder Will carried about him. The way the animals clung to him like thorns on a rose’s stem, the way even the breeze seemed to rustle through his hair playfully. As he walked behind the sorcerer, the nape of his neck was exposed just enough to see his druid mark… red and swollen as before. His hair kept it hidden.
They came to a spot at a relatively inconspicuous place, tall trees, mossy rocks, unkempt grass. The only thing that held significance was the clearing right in the center, where the sun rays touched.
“Okay, Holly, let me show you something…” said Will, running a graceful hand over the grass. Mike found it hard to take his eyes off of him as he walked through the woods– eyes closed, bare feet and all. Holly was right at his side, “Have you noticed anything… any patterns in the nature?” He asked.
Holly furrowed her eyebrows, “Patterns?” She whispered.
“Patterns.” He echoed with a laugh, “Like, for example, do you see the shapes the leaves make when the wind blows…? Or maybe the ripples in the river?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Holly sounded frustrated. Like she was failing a pop quiz.
Mike tagged along, slow in his steps, but listening nonetheless. These “patterns” had been something that he took notice of right away. “The spirals.” He said.
Will turned around, a look of surprise on his face, but still a small smile, “The spirals.” He nodded. “They’re everywhere, even on your skin.” He touched her druid mark, then his own, “Though they’re sort of… hidden, they have a great significance.” Now he stood next to a tree where the bark had made one of these neat little shapes they spoke of.
Will ran one finger over it, and it lit up. Like the sun itself was inside of the tree, trying its best to escape from that spiral. Will continued, pointing as he talked, “My magic starts here– at the beginning, then the spiral takes it, and puts it into the tree, then it goes to the roots… back to the Earth. It’s like a circle. The Earth gives me my magic… and it takes it back after it's done.”
Holly watched as the light traveled down to the dirt beneath her feet.
Mike, up until that point, had been watching with the utmost intention. Like, if he blinked, it would be gone. But then, he remembered, he had heard this sermon before. His father had stood in front of him years ago, cape and all, reading a book about druids aloud, laughing when it would speak about this very thing– their magic only being borrowed from the “Earth.” And how silly was it? If Mike allowed his mind to wander, he almost could laugh at it.
“So then…” She frowned. “My magic isn’t really mine? It’s just… stolen?”
“Not stolen.” Will laughed, “Gifted. There’s sparsely any druids anymore, and those that are don’t quite understand this aspect of it. All energy is only temporary.” And now he placed a hand over her heart, and Mike saw a golden spiral just underneath his skin. So, so faint, yet still so beautiful, like the magic was right in his hand.“What the Earth gives to us, we have to give back– that’s what’s fair. It chooses who to let hone these… abilities.”
Holly’s lips were parted. She looked sad again, like she had back at the castle. “Then, why did it pick me if it knew I was a royal?”
“It has nothing to do with blood, but your soul. Who you are and what makes you that way.” Now, he laughed, “You think I’m a better option? A poor kid who couldn’t even afford to put food on the table?” Shaking his head, he finally made her smile again, “Bottom line is, the Earth has no hierarchy. Humans created it, therefore it does not exist in nature… so, in the Earth’s eyes, you are equal to everyone and everything around you.”
Why had Will’s eyes cut over to Mike for that split second they did? Why had Mike been indulging in this fantasy? It was simply something Will was saying to a child to cheer her up. Of course someone who came from nothing is going to pretend he is just as important as someone with royal blood. It was a given. A joke.
Mike grunted and stepped away. He wanted to believe the things that Will was saying, but honestly did Will even hear himself? All of the hippy-dippy bullshit he was rambling about didn’t make the slightest bit of sense. Of course, when you’re making the choice to be close minded, how could it?
Mike listened to the sounds of the birds and watched the grass ripple like waves in the ocean.
Part of him wanted to believe. He wanted to believe that the ground he stood on carried some sort of morale, and that something saw him for what he truly was. He hoped it could read his mind and know it held doubt, and that he didn’t mean to be aggressive. He hoped anything could be this forgiving, but he knew better. Actions would always prevail, and hope would always leave you disappointed.
He clenched his jaw and staggered to the outskirts of the clearing, watching the lesson from afar.
Holly tried over and over again to conjure even the smallest thing in her hands, and though Mike couldn’t hear them, he could imagine their conversation to be somewhere along the lines of– “Think of a calming memory. The Earth is calming blah blah blah.” And Holly would think back but never have one. Her hectic life only left room for stress, fear, and a small amount of happiness. None of which were calming.
And they were like that for a rather long amount of time, until she was squealing, watching her slightly deformed butterfly escape from her palms and fluttering off into its first day of life.
She made another one, then another, then another, until there were so many that danced through the air. Mike swallowed that painful envy and stood up.
“Watch, Mike!” She shouted, hands clasped in front of her, face shriveled up in concentration. Then it was perfectly relaxed, completely still. With an exhale a spark of life spawned in her hand, and when she opened them, a perfectly curated butterfly– silky blue wings and black body– flew out.
Mike didn’t know which sight was better– the butterfly or the sheer joy on his sister’s face. Whatever it was, it reflected onto his own face. He felt the wind on his teeth, smiling bigger than perhaps he ever had.
She turned, making more and more and more until they were on their way back to the cave. On that same path as before that now felt much more lively with the new excitement.
Will walked slower now, his pace in time with Mike. The silence didn’t feel stifling, but welcome. Comfortable. So comfortable that Mike hadn’t even noticed it. Holly’s laughter filled the woods, and Mike finally opened his mouth. “Thank you… by the way.”
He regretted the words instantly.
“For what? Will laughed.
“Holly really didn’t have a good time back home… It’s good to see her like this.” He said. “So… I guess… thanks for cheering her up, you know?”
Will shrugged, “I’m getting paid to do this, it’s not charity work.”
“You’re being modest. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this happy.” Said Mike, and they watched for a bit while she held out her fingers and let the butterflies cling to her skin. They laughed at her.
“Well, it is something to be proud of. I told her the spell was easy but it took me about two weeks to figure it out.”
“Really?” Mike laughed.
“Mhm.” Will hummed, “She’s young and hasn’t had much training, so it’s hard to tell, but she’s ridiculously powerful. Of course, it does help that she has someone helping her.”
Mike thought for a moment, “Did you?” He asked.
“What?”
“You know– did you have someone who helped you?” He didn’t really have a good reason to be curious outside of the fact that he was just… interested.
Will thought for a minute, like he had genuinely been considering the question. “For a while, yes. My mom helped as best as she could.”
“Was she a sorcerer too?”
Will laughed, “God, no.”
“Then how did she teach you?”
Will must have caught on to the strangeness of the conversation– Mike’s sudden interest in his life back in Lenora. They looked at each other for a moment, Mike with hope, Will with caution.
Mike shook his head, “Sorry, uh… forget I asked.”
“She would buy books off of bandits.” said Will. “Well, really off of anyone who wasn’t from Lenora. Wanderers… poets… ruffians. She hated not having money, but she hated me not knowing how to use my powers even more.”
Mike had a million more questions, but held them inside of his mind.
When they reached the cave again, Mike stripped himself of his boots and armor, allowing himself to warm up by the fire as the sun set. Will and Holly talked inside the cave. It was becoming a sight he was familiar with, the two of them together. At first, it had made every inch of his wriggle with discomfort, now he wouldn’t have it any other way. Holly was happy. It was what she needed.
Thursday night was there in no time. It was like Mike blinked and time passed instantly, and suddenly he was feeling that anger about leaving like he’d never felt before. Back to the castle where he could only sleep by pretending he was by the fire.
He had been the one to tuck Holly in that night, who could now conjure just about any insect under the sun in her hands. A freaky trick that made Mike glad he was on her good side. Before he went out to the fire where the other sorcerer was, he made sure to grab his sword from his saddlebag… and one other thing.
Will made the fire simmer until it was only a small flame. The night was especially quiet.
“When are you leaving tomorrow?” Will asked. He was sitting with his knees in his arms. The fire danced in his eyes.
Mike shrugged, sitting down adjacent, putting his items at his side, “I’m not really in a rush.” He said. “And I don’t think Holly is either.”
Will laughed, “I think she’s pretty excited to show everyone her new trick.”
Mike nodded, “Yeah that got old really quick.”
The silence had felt a little more heavy tonight. Like the cicadas and the crickets (some that Holly had breathed life into) were louder than ever before. Mike cleared his throat, “By the way, is there a reason you don’t wear shoes?” he asked.
“What?” said Will.
“I dunno. It’s kinda impractical given the fact that you live in the woods.”
Will shrugged, but seemed to not be able to find the words.
Mike took this as his opportunity, picking the boots up from behind him and holding them in the light, “I picked these up while I was in town. They’re nothing too fancy, but I figured you could use them.”
Will’s face was hard to read through the trembling shadows made from the fire, but he hadn’t acted the way Mike expected. In any case, he pictured Will’s face beaming at him, smiling from ear to ear and trying to pry the boots from Mike’s fingers, but Will sat there with an almost-frown on his face. “I can’t…” He whispered, “I mean, thank you, that’s really kind, but I don’t wear shoes.”
“Why not?” Mike asked, setting the boots to his side.
“It’s complicated. I know it sounds stupid…” He sighed.
Mike shrugged, but his heart gave an unexpected lurch at the rejection, “It’s fine, they’re there if you change your mind.” Was all he said.
“Thank you.” Will repeated. Mike said nothing.
He could almost count the seconds that passed until it became a minute, then two. “Well, I guess I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Yeah.” Will laughed.
But before Mike could turn over on his side, he heard the ear piercing sound of a wolf howling. It had sounded like it was mere inches from him. On instinct, more than anything, he clutched his sword in his hand and craned his neck around.
Will snorted at this reaction, “You plan on fighting a wolf?”
Mike’s face flushed, “What, you want me to let it eat me?” he hissed.
“Oh come on, you really think you could take out a huge animal with your tiny sword?”
“Wow!” Mike couldn’t find it in himself to be mad. The awkwardness of the prior situation washed over him leaving him in a giddy state, “As opposed to your insect making skills?”
Will rolled his eyes, playfully, “I beat you and you know it.”
“You caught me off guard is all.” Mike shrugged.
“Oh, right.” Will laughed, “Probably wouldn’t be smart to kill a wolf, though. That wouldn’t be a fun phantom to get rid of.”
Mike’s happiness was stunted as he tried to make sense of what Will had just said. “What?”
“You know… phantoms. I’m sure you’ve read about them.” Will shrugged.
“Like… the creepy ghosts that fly around?” Mike laughed. His mind wasn’t as malleable as his sister’s had been.
“You really don’t know what a phantom is?” Will’s mouth dropped open. Mike shook his head, “That makes so much more sense.”
“What do you mean?” Now Mike was getting antsy. He hated being in the state of not knowing. It made him feel stupid and contradicted all of the effort he had put into being much more intelligent than most people his age.
“A phantom is…” Will began, “It’s hard to explain, but if you kill an animal without the intention of eating it… or using its body in some sort of way… it turns into what us druids call a phantom.” He said. Mike blinked.
Will continued with a sigh, “Okay…” He cleared his throat, “Let’s say you were to kill that wolf, just to kill it… for fun… and you don’t take its fur or eat it, then it turns into a Phantom, which looks exactly like the animal, only shadowy and made from a smoke-ish substance.”
Everything Will said struck Mike as incredibly funny. Surely, Will didn’t expect this to work on him. Mike’s face lit up in a smile, laughing. “Alright.”
“No, I'm being serious!” said Will. “It’s supposed to be a known rule– which obviously it’s not, which explains why there were so many phantoms all of the sudden– but the sorcerers are the only ones who can get rid of them!”
“Sure, sure, I totally believe you! How would that even work?”
Will shrugged, “I mean, I’m not an expert but… animals are the only pure things on the Earth. Humans are not, they’re greedy and entitled by nature and have placed themselves on a pedestal. So, when a person kills an animal for the thrill, it creates this rift in their life cycle. Sort of like a tear in their soul that causes them to be reborn into this angry… thing. Not vengeful, just angry.”
Mike rolled his lips together, holding back his laughs with all the strength in his body. Nodding like he was really understanding what he was saying.
Will seemed to not notice, “They seek out sorcerers who are the only ones able to put them to peace. I’ve had to do it a few times… it’s not very fun and I’m glad when it’s over but–”
Mike let out a snort.
“You don’t believe me do you?” Will deadpanned.
“Will, do you hear yourself? I mean, come on!” He laughed, “I’ve killed tons of animals– granted, most of them have been with intentions to eat or use for fur– but saying that they come back as basically a demon? Do you really expect me to believe that?”
“I’ve made bugs appear in my hand and stopped the rain with my mind, but you draw the line at phantoms?” Will huffed.
“Yes!” Mike chuckled, “Seriously, that could have worked on Holly, but I’m not a kid. You can just ask me not to kill animals for fun, you don’t have to make up some bullshit story.”
“It’s not bullshit, Mike, they’re very real, and honestly very sad. People like you are the reason they exist at all!”
Mike was losing his mind, doubling over with laughter at this point. He struggled to talk. Will’s seriousness in his lie had been almost admirable. Almost convincing. “People like me?” He chuckled.
“Forget it, Mike, go to sleep.” Will was curt and faced away from the prince.