Chapter Text
Olruggio’s first thought was that a frenzied pegasus had breached the security of the Great Hall. Which made no sense, because they couldn’t swim—but he couldn’t conjure up any other explanation for all the screaming and clattering noises coming from outside of his room.
It had been a quiet day thus far, meaning it was inevitable for something terrible to happen. (Peace is the ideal moment to incite a war, his professor once said.) Still, Olruggio’s chest tightened as if it were the first time all over again. He hadn't quite gotten used to the constant chaos of the Hall yet, and echoes of his devastating last mission haunted his mind. So, the instant the commotion reached his ears, he was up and out the door.
He couldn’t immediately make sense of what he was seeing. There was a blur of medics and witches rushing back and forth and barking orders at each other. Olruggio didn’t get to see who had gotten hurt—the crowd was much too dense. No, what Olruggio saw was how Beldaruit rushed onto the scene, how he, just for a second, tensed up like he’d been turned into stone. Like he too had something that haunted him, and was being harshly reminded of it now.
No, Olruggio thought with sudden clarity. Don’t tell me the pegasus is actually–!
But of course it was. Who else would elicit that reaction? Who else would do something idiotic enough to end up in that position at all?
“No!” he repeated out loud, fingers finding his hair and gripping until it hurt. “No, no, no…”
A passing medic finally took notice of him. “Go back to your room,” she ordered, simultaneously nudging him back with her hand and blocking the scene behind with her body. “It’s not safe. Go, go.”
Olruggio did nothing of the sort. He instead barrelled past her, colliding into dozens of people as he shoved his way through the crowd. Some people yelled “Wait!” or “Get him!” when he stumbled into them, but none of them were as small and nimble as him, or had half the determination.
He only ran into a real problem when Beldaruit noticed him, and in one swoop, dragged him into a clearing by the back of his cloak. Olruggio struggled against his hold, but was no match for Beldaruit’s extensive child-wrangling experience.
“Let me go!” Olruggio gasped. “I have to see him!”
“You’re the last person that should see him,” Beldaruit replied. All of the usual whimsy had been wrung out of his voice, leaving it grim and quiet.
“But he’s–you can’t just—!”
“Olruggio.” There was a certain weight to how he said the name that made Olruggio stop wiggling. “I get it. I do. But I ask you to trust us, just this once. You being there will not heal him faster. He needs to rest. Give him space until he wakes.”
Wakes? The wording did nothing to soothe Olruggio’s spinning thoughts. He’d seen plenty of people who’d gone to sleep and never woken at all. The thought of Qifrey like that, slumped in a stretcher, tormented him. He wanted to scream at Beldaruit, at Qifrey, at himself, at the world. He clutched at the fabric above his racing heart, feeling his body shudder with the force of its beats. Why would you do this, Qifrey? Why risk your precious life?
It was nothing new. But it was painful all the same.
“When will that be?” he forced himself to ask.
Beldaruit leaned down with a strained smile. “Soon, I’m sure.” He gave Olruggio’s head a pat. “It’ll be okay. I’ll give him a good talking to once he’s up. I think he’s learned a valuable lesson today about putting himself in danger.”
It was a nice thought, but, as Olruggio knew well, an overoptimistic one. Qifrey didn’t care about how much trouble he got himself into; if he thought what he was doing would lead him closer to his past, he’d do it. Plain and simple. There was no deterring him, no way to make him understand what he was risking.
I just wish he’d consider me before he went and did it, Olruggio couldn’t help but think. It was a self-centered way to look at it, yes. He knew Qifrey cared about him, sure. But still…if Qifrey really cared, in the deep, all-consuming way that Olruggio did, he’d know that nothing killed Olruggio more than seeing him get hurt, and maybe he’d take a second to consider his actions before he hurled himself into the mouths of beasts and off the sides of cliffs.
It was like he didn’t even see himself as a person. Olruggio wished he could do something to change it.
That thought followed him throughout the rest of the afternoon as he waited for Qifrey to be treated, seeming like a tangible weight on his shoulders. While he was meant to be learning a new spell, he instead pictured Qifrey in different scenes—eating lunch or drawing magic or trying to sneak out of Beldaruit’s line of sight—lingering on the last one, because it was the one that most accurately held what he was seeking: a glint in Qifrey’s eyes, evidence of his aliveness. What made that time different, and how could Olruggio bring it back?
The answer was obvious and unfortunate. It was when Qifrey was breaking rules in pursuit of his quest that he seemed most vibrant. Yesterday, while he must have been planning this latest stunt, he’d even cracked a smile at one of Olruggio’s jokes. Olruggio, then, had thought that they were making some sort of progress. Guess he was wrong.
In that case, there’s nothing I can do…
He sighed and let his spell book fall closed. He wouldn’t get any learning done in this state. He instead lay back and trained his gaze on the ceiling, sending a quiet prayer up to the heavens: please let him be okay.
***
Beldaruit didn’t always approve of the influence the two boys had on each other, but it was clear he understood how close they were, as he let Olruggio know the second Qifrey faded into awareness. Olruggio came sprinting down the hall to the medical ward before he could even change into proper clothing, sleepshirt rumpled, hair tousled, looking like a wild animal plucked from the streets minutes prior. He gave Qifrey no time to brace himself before leaping at him and landing on top of him in a graceless embrace.
Qifrey made a choking noise. “Wha–? Olly?”
Olruggio pulled back enough to grasp Qifrey by the shoulders. He was pale, and wrapped in bandages from nearly head to toe, but didn’t seem on the verge of death or anything. He smelled vaguely like antiseptic. Olruggio could just strangle him right now for acting so innocent.
“I have to ask you something,” Olruggio said seriously.
“Um?” Qifrey managed.
“How stupid can you be?” Olruggio demanded, shaking him back and forth as if it would unlock some untapped store of rationality buried within him.
“Hey!” one of the medics’ apprentices warned; Olruggio was pretty sure her name was Seaweed or Sandwich or something. “Cut that out. He’s still fragile.”
“Fragile?” Qifrey grumbled.
Olruggio stopped shaking him and sat back on the bed. “Sorry, Sarah.”
“It’s Sinocia! And keep it down. Some people are trying to sleep.”
Now that she’d pointed it out, the quietness of the space surrounding them appeared jarring. It was so unlike the bustle of the main sections of the Great Hall. The lighting was dim, and a few broken bodies stirred from all the noise they were making. Olruggio felt both guilty and unnerved; he thought they ought to move their conversation somewhere else.
Where would Qifrey be most comfortable? Well, far from here was probably the answer. I hate water, he’d mentioned several times before, and Olruggio could only wince at the implications of living in a hall surrounded by it—plus filled with people, which Qifrey occasionally hated as well.
Olruggio couldn’t fix either of those problems for him. Resigned, he said, “Do you want to come to my room? It’s empty.”
Qifrey nodded and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“Wait, wait.” Sinocia scampered over, braids flapping behind her. “I should really ask if it's okay first. We just treated him.” She glanced around, like one of the grown medics was hiding behind a corner to catch her committing malpractice.
“I’m not staying,” Qifrey said flatly.
Sinocia opened her mouth to protest some more, but Qifrey had a certain intensity about him that made him unbendable. That kid is stone cold, the professors always whispered to each other. Nothing gets to him. It wasn’t true, of course. But even Olruggio had failed in the face of his stubbornness quite a few times.
Qifrey stood. Despite his declaration, he was unsteady on his feet. He had to put his arms out for balance, and his left leg seemed to be causing him a lot of trouble. No reason to fear—Olruggio was prepared. He wrapped his arm around Qifrey’s side to help him walk. Qifrey allowed it.
“Make sure he keeps his weight on his good side,” Sinocia instructed, having given up on stopping them. “Master Beldaruit said he was going to come to get him soon, so return him before you both get lectured to Dadah and back.”
Olruggio flashed her a smile. “Thank you. I won't let him out of my sight!”
“Ugh,” Qifrey groaned.
Their progress back to Olruggio’s room was slow and painful, made worse by their attempts to stay at least somewhat out of view, and the murmurs of people who did catch a glimpse of them:
“That kid missing the eye is totally crazy. This is like the tenth time he’s escaped this week.” “I heard he ran into a dragon’s cave!” “They should just wipe his memories. He’s clearly in no shape to become a real witch.” “Olruggio’s a hero for putting up with him.”
Olruggio wasn’t the type to throw around the word “hate.” However, he hated the way people talked about Qifrey. He wasn’t some monster. He was a boy like any other, who happened to get caught up in a terrible situation. It could happen to anyone. Olruggio wished he could give those gossips a piece of his mind, but Qifrey always told him to leave it, said he didn’t care what others had to say about him. Olruggio knew it had to be a lie, but he couldn’t very well fight the whole hall for vengeance. Beldaruit already disapproved of his participation in Qifrey’s “adventures.” He didn’t need to end up on one of the three wise’s bad sides for real.
After what felt like forever, he shut the door behind them and wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. His room was messy, full of contraptions that he’d fallen asleep half on top of, stray papers with terrible spells scribbled on them, and his roommate’s socks thrown all over the place. Home sweet home.
Qifrey flopped back on Olruggio’s bed, letting out a huff of air. His snow-white hair fanned out behind him, forming an impression of a halo. “I hate this,” he said, and Olruggio remembered how angry he was meant to be all at once.
“Oh, do you?” Olruggio replied with the false cheerfulness of a merchant who was about to tip her entire cart on top of a rude customer.
Qifrey lifted his head a bit; his eye was narrowed.
“Clearly,” Olruggio went on, “you don’t hate it enough. Or maybe you would have put at least an ounce of thought into your actions before trying to send yourself into an early grave.”
Qifrey shuddered at the word grave. “...You’re not seriously mad about this.”
Olruggio whirled on him. “Of course I’m mad! Do you even know the kind of scene you caused? They dragged you back here like a beached parasol jelly, bleeding from twenty different places. The medics were in a frenzy.”
“That’s their job,” was all Qifrey had to say.
“It’s not about them, stupid. It’s about you. I thought you died or something! You could have. What were you doing out there anyway? What was so worthy of your attention that you had to run away again?”
Qifrey sat back up, failing to conceal a wince. Now he looked irritated, too. It was so easy for them to fall back into these familiar arguments, yell and fight and get nowhere in convincing each other of their correctness. Yet they did it anyway. It wasn’t like Olruggio could simply pretend to be supportive of Qifrey’s lack of self-preservation; he had to push back somehow.
“Why are you being like this?” Qifrey demanded. “Like you don’t jump for joy when I invite you along. Is that it? Mad that I went without you?”
Olruggio couldn’t exactly explain that he’d follow Qifrey anywhere, or that being with him made anything worth it. Instead he hurled back another question of his own. “Actually, yeah, let’s talk about that. Why did you go alone?”
He wished Qifrey would admit the truth: Because I knew it would be extra dangerous. Because I didn’t want you to get hurt with me. If he at least owned up to that, maybe Olruggio wouldn’t be so upset. But Qifrey, as predicted, just looked away. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
“Everything would be a lot easier if you did,” Olruggio said, turning back around like a child having a tantrum, picking an unfinished contraption up from the floor and fidgeting mindlessly with it.
“Well.” A thickness had entered Qifrey’s voice. There was a rustling sound as he rose from the bed. “If you want easy, I suggest you stop trying to be friends with me.”
When Olruggio peered at him over his shoulder, he could see exactly where the phantom cage closed around him. Qifrey was his own microcosm of the Great Hall—surrounded by impenetrable depths. It seemed more hopeless every day that someone might reach the light hidden at the bottom of them.
Let me be that someone, Olruggio did not say. He said, “You’re still hurt. Idiot.”
Qifrey’s one eye turned out sufficient enough for glaring. He stomped past, and stopped in the doorway. “I know. That’s why I’m going back to the medical ward, like I’m supposed to.”
Olruggio let the silence stretch to see if Qifrey would linger, and when he did, said, “Do whatever you want. You always have.”
Qifrey muttered a curse and slammed the door shut behind him. Olruggio stood, frozen, for a good fifteen seconds, before flinging his contraption against the wall and watching it break into a hundred pieces. Dammit!
He sank to the floor, right in the middle of his mess, and sat there in total quiet, trying to wait for the emotion to drain out of him. I hope Beldaruit yells at him for hours, he thought, knowing well that Beldaruit wasn’t the yelling type. Knowing that he was really no better. Qifrey had been right about that part; Olruggio loved going on adventures with him. It was when he felt most alive. It was when Qifrey felt most alive too. So how did he reconcile those good feelings with the awful ones that arrived when stuff like this happened? How could one thing be both so amazing and terrible? Was it better to keep Qifrey imprisoned, or let him be free at the cost of his safety?
It was impossible to form a solid opinion on the matter, too draining to even think about.
Olruggio, very slowly, began to pick the pieces of his shattered contraption back up. He felt a strange sort of pity for it, though it wasn’t alive. It could have been fixed up into something great, and instead he’d ruined it in a fit of anger.
Maybe this is how Qifrey feels all the time, he considered, then shook his head. Beldaruit was right. The two of them needed some space from each other.
Olruggio needed to clear his head.
***
Even the chaos of the cafeteria was subdued to match the day’s gloom, it seemed. Olruggio found himself sitting across from another apprentice he knew to be named Alaira as he picked at some food that had already gotten cold. Neither of them attempted to start up a conversation, until Olruggio made a sour face at something green on his plate, and she said, “Tastes like crap, right? But it’s good for you.”
He glanced up. “How do you know?”
“My professor is big on health,” she explained. “She says half the battle of being a witch is keeping your body in working condition.”
Olruggio snorted. “I know someone who needs to hear that more than me.”
Alaira’s expression tightened as she seemed to weigh something in her mind. Making a decision, she ventured, “That Qifrey guy, right? Heard it took ‘em hours to find him, even with a guidance orb.”
Olruggio’s instinct was to turn defensive, but Alaira’s tone indicated no judgement or ridicule. She had never been one to talk bad about Qifrey, and even rolled her eyes at her peers who did so.
“Yeah, Qifrey,” he said. “He can be hard to catch.”
Alaira hummed. “You, too, apparently. You guys are like a famed duo around here.”
Despite not being in the mood for being in a “famed duo” with the person he was angry at, Olruggio let a small laugh escape. Everything seemed so simple from an outside perspective. He was grateful for Alaira’s inadvertent encouragement, and told her as much. “Thanks. It’s good to know we can at least be entertainment for everyone.”
She smiled back. Some of Olruggio’s stress ebbed. The two of them talked for a while longer, and in the back of his mind, a tiny idea started to sprout. It was her talk of health that had done it, narrowed his goal. If he couldn’t come up with an immediate answer for how to keep Qifrey safe and content at the same time, he could at least come up with how to keep him busy until his strength returned. Because, if everyone was being honest here, Qifrey would push himself as far as his bandages could stretch. He’d be plotting new ways to flee by nightfall. This was an issue Olruggio could take a firm stance on: Qifrey had to let himself heal before attempting anything else.
That evening, Olruggio put his plan together piece by piece, running it through in his head, refining it, the same way he would tinker with a magic item. He only stopped working when the limitations of his human body dragged him to sleep.
He had no dreams that night.
***
Olruggio had never seen Qifrey like this, staring at the floor, wringing his hands together, red from head to toe.
It had been nearly two days. Olruggio had gotten so caught up in his plan that he’d almost forgotten that things were unresolved between the two of them, until Qifrey had knocked on his door and asked to talk. Every fight before, Olruggio broke first and apologized, but apparently Qifrey had gotten tired of waiting this time around.
Olruggio had to force down a grin. There was nothing like getting mister “stone-cold” to melt.
“Look,” Qifrey began, sounding like he wished the dresser would tip over and crush him, “I’m not going to do a dance for you and sing a ballad about how wrong I was, but I…um…I’m sorry that I made you worried. Or whatever.”
Olruggio leaned back against his desk, smoothing out his cloak in his hands. He took a while to respond, just to let the awkwardness sink in. Finally, he shook his head with a frown. “No can do. I signed a contract: only forgive Qifrey if he performs song and dance. No exceptions.”
“Why you—!” Qifrey hissed, taking an irritated step forward. He landed on his hurt leg, but his wince was less extreme than earlier. Perhaps what the professors always said about youth healing at an incredible rate was true. Still, Olruggio didn’t trust it, and made a mental note to keep an eye out for any more signs of pain.
“Stop that,” Olruggio said. “I’m kidding. I’m not angry anymore, okay?”
Qifrey’s expression took on a perfect balance of bewildered and suspicious. “You don’t just go from being that angry to being totally fine without anything happening between. That's not how it works.”
Olruggio wanted to say that something had happened in between, but he couldn’t, so he gave as close to the truth as he could. “I guess I was never really mad. You just scared me.” He tightened his hold on his cloak. “I didn’t like to see you unconscious, and all those medics…you have to understand how bad that looked.”
Qifrey gave a dejected nod.
“For the record, I’m sorry too,” Olruggio said. “It’s not very nice to berate an injured witch.”
Qifrey sighed. “Tell that to Beldaruit.”
Something occurred to Olruggio, making him frown. He dropped his cloak and approached Qifrey, regarding him skeptically.
“What is it?” Qifrey asked.
“Beldaruit…he didn’t put you up to this, did he?”
“What?” Qifrey blinked. “No.”
Olruggio was unmoved. “Hm.”
“No.” Qifrey actually grabbed Olruggio’s shirt, he was that desperate. “He told me to stay away from you until we both calmed down. I told him I was calm, and came here anyway. He didn’t make me do anything.”
That was a relief. Olruggio snickered. “Not like he could if he tried.”
Qifrey released him and leaned against the wall, head tilted up. He appeared to be contemplating something. Naturally distrustful as he was, he was probably trying to find holes in Olruggio’s forgiveness, or gauge how soon was appropriate to suggest sneaking out again. Well, he needn’t worry. This time, it was Olruggio with the scheme.
It all began with a sad truth: Qifrey would lick a toilet if there was a sign above saying: information about forbidden magic collected only via taste. As irritating as it could be, it also made it very simple for Olruggio to brainstorm about a dozen false leads that he would follow without question. Not because they made logical sense, but because Qifrey wanted to believe that what he was searching for was out there, and better than that, close.
Lying wasn’t good, that was one of the first things adults tried to drill into children’s heads. Olruggio tried not to do a lot of it. But the thing was, if he could rationalize Qifrey’s own lies as attempts to protect himself, then it made it easy to do the same with his own—attempts to protect someone he cared about.
There were obvious reasons he hadn’t chosen such a path sooner. When he thought about the probable end results, Qifrey screaming at him for the trick and possibly cutting off their friendship for good, a lot of the promising aspects crumbled away. But this time, he vowed to be very deliberate in how he pulled it off, and to make sure he let it go on for only as long as it took Qifrey to heal, that way he’d have a valid argument when all was uncovered. Besides, he wouldn’t really cut me off because I wasted his time for a few days, Olruggio thought. Though the fact that he had to repeat it to himself wasn’t helping.
He could admit that a tiny part of him wanted to get back at Qifrey too. Each time he thought of Qifrey unconscious in that bed, he was pricked by new annoyance.
“Now that we’re done with that,” he began with perhaps a smidge too much drama, “I actually have something I wanted to tell you about. I was gonna mention it a few days ago, but, you know…”
Qifrey rubbed at his shoulder. “Something like what?”
“A story I heard. A rumor that came back with those witches that traveled to the mountains down south.” Thus, Olruggio laid it all out. He crafted a tale of an old woman who lived a simple life, a retired witch, who’d been used as a gruesome example of what happens to people who get too close to those who reject the pact. She’d dedicated her remaining years to coming up with contraptions that may have been able to track or limit forbidden magic, only to have her hands transformed by that very medium, rendering her unable to make anything ever again. Of course, Olruggio noted, rumors were just rumors. Of course, she could have been exaggerating to the witches who found her. It was just something he’d caught wind of. No big deal.
It was clearly a big deal to Qifrey. His eye widened, and he shuffled closer. “Do you really think it could be true?”
Olruggio already felt a stab of guilt, and realized he was going to have to toughen up a whole lot if he wanted to maintain the act for several days. “I don’t know,” he conceded. “But I thought you might want to hear it.”
Qifrey nodded, slow, and then again, faster. “Yes. Thank you for—”
“However!” Olruggio wagged his finger in Qifrey’s face. “In light of recent events, I am banning you from even thinking about investigating this on your own. You either bring me, or accept another ten lectures from Beldaruit after I sell you out.”
Qifrey looked back and forth, as if trying to find a hidden audience to share in his bafflement. “For real? Are you trying to extort me or something?”
“Nah.” Olruggio crossed his arms. “That would imply that hanging out with me costs you. Which you would never say, I’m sure.”
Olurggio delivered the line in a light, humorous way, which was why he was surprised when Qifrey’s demeanor remained serious. Olruggio had a moment of panic where he wondered if he was the most transparent person on the planet and had given his scheme away before it even began, but Qifrey simply said: “Olly, it wasn’t your fault I didn’t bring you last time. I just couldn’t, okay?”
It was rare to see Qifrey sincere. He hated showing vulnerability, and the fact that he did now whittled Olruggio’s composure. “I already said it’s fine,” he said, tugging at his shirt collar, which had somehow gotten tighter. “I’m only making sure it doesn’t happen again. Besides, we’re better together. Can’t take a bath in cold water, can ya?”
“You can,” Qifrey said. “But it won’t be very comfortable.”
Olruggio shot him a smile. “Exactly.”
Qifrey nearly smiled back.
They spent hours thinking up ways to regain enough trust from their professors to shuck off the constant surveillance and coming up with spells to protect them against the rumored forbidden magic user, if it came to that. All the while, Olruggio’s mind played with his own contraptions, running through scenarios where he replaced one part or another. That sort of slow, meticulous work suited him. He was getting the hang of the business side too. He guessed that was another reason he and Qifrey balanced each other out; fire and water, patience and relentless pursuit.
He’d been working on a few contraptions that he intended to plant at the scene of the “old woman’s atelier” if Qifrey grew restless. Others, he brought along for comfort. He knew it was childish to weigh himself down with things like smoke illusion devices and fake animal calls, but his professor said that tools he felt confident with were never useless. (Not that confidence was in excess about anything right now. )
Eventually, they had to go their separate ways, as Qifrey could allegedly see Olruggio’s eye bags expanding in real time. Olruggio gave Qifrey a quick hug on the way out; Qifrey did not shove him away.
Although them making up gave Olruggio an overall sense of contentment, a sneakier unease was creeping up on him. He didn’t know if it was his guilty conscience, persisting anxiety from Qifrey’s injury, worry for his plan, or a twisted premonition, but either way, his dreams were not so quiet that night. He saw snow, unmoving bodies buried beneath it. A woman with sticks as hands. A flickering light. Darkness.
Several times, he woke up in a cold sweat, not knowing where he was. But he knew how to push past it by now, and forced himself back into the depths of sleep.
After all, there would be no time to catch up on rest tomorrow.