#Virgil is a water mage

[greenninjagal-blog]

Here Comes the Sun (pt5)

Contrary to popular belief, I do occasionally still write apparently. Can you believe it? Anyway! If you want a refresher on what’s been going on [click right here] or if you want to read from the beginning [click right here]! 

Summary: After the second worst day of his life, Virgil wakes up and goes to find out where his best friend and the guy he tried to kidnap ended up. For some reason all of this feels like the calm before a storm.

Words: 15469 (ask me why its taken forever to get this one out)

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Chapter Five: Flood Warning

The Rules had been a mostly drunk joke between them. It had happened a few weeks into them travelling together: they had come to stupid little town in the middle of nowhere and all the people were hateful to them even after Remus had taken care of their Vulcan infestation and returned both a kidnapped teenage girl and an older guy that had gotten taken host by the creatures Take Over Magic to the village.

Remus had threatened to destroy a few of their buildings and that at least had sent most of them scurrying for cover in their own houses with the thunder warning them to not come back out. The bar owner in particular had been a nasty fellow, so Remus and Virgil unanimously agreed that they would raid his place, get drunk, and then skip town before the Magic council was called on them or an actually sanctioned guild showed.

That was the night that Remus had told him Everyone Leaves.

And Virgil had responded with What if I didn’t? Because he’d been drunk and an idiot and Remus was the safest place he had ever known. 

“We need a set of rules,” Virgil had said, washing himself over the counter, nearly placing his face into the interesting patterned wood grooves.

“I like breaking rules,” Remus had said, draining the last of his barrel of wine. Virgil had laughed at his face when he tossed the empty barrel to the side, woozy at the idea of how his liver was still functioning. He had been so glad that he hadn’t taken Remus up on that drinking bet earlier.

“No,” Virgil said. “No, I mean like… our rules. Rules for us. We make them and keep them and stuff.”

“Sounds boring, Virgie.”

“Your face sounds boring.”

Remus grinned with all his teeth on display and Virgil had flicked wine-flavored water at him because his clothes had just started drying out from the fight and that was illegal or something.

“You pick the first one,” Virgil said. “I’ll make the second.”

“Hmmmmm,” Remus leaned back on the bar stool so far Virgil thought he’d fall. He thought about lunging to catch him if he did fall, but the world was pleasantly swimming and Virgil figured if he stood up he’d condense himself into a puddle and forget how to turn back to a human.

“Rule Number One!” Remus said. “No Killing Each Other!”

“You couldn’t kill me even if you tried,” Virgil said. “Fine. Rule Number Two! No Killing Anyone Else!”

Very Sensible. Killing people would get them arrested and stuff. Remus was laughing at him, but it didn’t sound mean. Remus was never really mean to Virgil.

“Rule Three! No Talking About Shit The Other Doesn’t Like!” Remus says. “No askin ‘bout my brother, no forcing you to talk about your parents, nothing about from before we met unless we wanna. And other things too, if we think of ‘em.”

Virgil nodded along with it, nearly sliding off the bar counter. 

“Rule Four! Never Go Where the Other Can’t Follow!”

It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

A great one actually. He’d been so fucking proud of it; everyone leaves, but not Virgil. Everyone gets tired of the rain, but not Remus.

He wouldn’t need anyone to actually love him; if they both just followed the rules and pretended like it, one day Virgil might be able to trick himself into believing it and that stormcloud over his head would go away. 

***

Virgil wakes up in cold water, his human form diluted off and the bottom of the basin covered in mud and minerals. He’s decently surprised: both him and Remus must have been in bad enough moods that Remus didn’t even attempt to come in here and unplug the drain and send him sloshing out of the pipes for shits and giggles.

It doesn't bode well. There’s a distinct difference between The Lack of Remus (curious, entertaining, possibly amusing) and The Lack of Remus (VERY FUCKING BAD). Virgil likes to think that he’s familiar enough with his best friend and their whole situation to know which one this is, not that it takes more than a few seconds of struggling to form a thought to also remember the previous… everything.

Virgil's head is still throbbing with the tell tale feeling of a headache even before he manages to convince the water that makes up his body to come back together to form his head. Honestly, he's beginning to think that Logan's "Evil Orb" attack hurt him a lot more than previously suggested-- which considering that Virgil’s pain index is on another scale entirely... well it certainly says something about that fight. Pure magic attacks always were finicky when interacting with him: whatever elements made up "evil" probably dissolved into water really well.

Virgil chose not to even consider if Logan knew or didn’t know about that. Targeted attack or not, the fact was that Virgil was feeling the aftereffects of it and wasn’t a fan and it was impeding his ability to go find Remus and….

And do something.

What a pain.

Instead he draws his form back together, careful to keep the minerals and mud off his form as he painstakingly adds drop by drop into himself. A leg, an arm, ten fingers, ten toes, mouth, eyes, nose, heart-- He focuses for a moment on the poison, prodding it to see if he might be able to convince it to drop into the mud as well, but in the end he backs off. Much better to be alive with the curse on him, than have whatever's left of his body discovered by Remus whenever he decides to come looking because the sun appeared in the sky and…. Did whatever the sun does.

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for his clothes to form again after he has most of the standard human look back in the right order; the black material traces the edges of his preferred form, wrapping around his limbs to secure the shapes of each so he didn’t have to waste 90% of his focus on remembering to keep the heights of his kneecaps the same so he could walk. It had been a pain to get it made and it had cost a fortune, which had made the other kids at the orphanage upset-- something about it not being fair that Virgil got new clothes when they didn’t just because he was a freak-- and the orphanage leader had picked out the color herself without his input, citing that black went with everything. 

It had been his one gift throughout the years.

Virgil had thought about picking up a ColorS just to change the color of it, but the devices were never programmed with a shade of purple that he liked (too dark, too red, too pink…). He’d have much better luck reaching out to the developer in Clover City and with a swatch of the color he wanted and just paying for a second suit.

But like. Money.

His head pounds. It’s too early to be thinking about money problems. Or any problems. Or just… thinking in general.

Light streams in from the windows, a hazy gray that's accompanied by a light sprinkle, that feels more like being sprayed with a squirt gun than actual rain. Virgil watches it start to get harder as his body and brain wakes back up more and more. An inverse relationship: the more Virgil is awake, the further away the mythical sun is from sight.

The good news is that it’s day again. The bad news is he’s not sure what day.

His leftover pocket materials are still where he left them on the floor, along with a tipped over bottle of soap he doesn’t remember dropping anymore than he remembers not dropping. It doesn’t seem like Remus had been in here; nothing’s too out of place from what he remembers. But that also doesn’t mean shit: Remus sometimes went whole weeks without proper hygiene because he just didn’t care enough, until Virgil physically forced him to take care of his body before he killed someone from the stench alone.

((Remus, of course, had thought that was an excellent attack ability to add to his repertoire. Virgil had strictly vetoed it by drenching him with water every three hours until he promised to take his own showers.))

Virgil shifts around slightly, testing tentatively his weight on his legs again, as he gathers up what was left of his supplies. The paper money hadn’t been touched-- still the same measly amount that he’d brought on his adventure yesterday that had come right out of his savings-- the multitool he spends a few seconds checking the springs and hinges to see if the rain or mud had gotten to it. He crumples up the map of Magnolia and specifically that nice little townhouse in the hope that maybe ruining the picture would ruin the memory too.

But then he shifts too far and the minimal lighting catches on a bit of silver on the sink counter.

Out of all the things, the spoons look the most sadly pathetic and out of place in their bathroom. Virgil’s hands hesitate before he picks one up, the pad of his thumb tracing over the simple pattern on them. He tries to imagine the faces of those Star Burst members when they realized that Virgil had made off with their spoons. 

Daydream-Logan is endlessly baffled by it, theorizing on the hundreds of things that Virgil might have needed spoons for in the middle of a kidnapping, going as far as to wonder if the kidnapping was a cover up for the theft, and daydream- Roman is fuming throwing out insults that daydream- Patton tells him aren’t nice, to which there’s the snapped reply that Virgil isn’t nice. It’s amusing right up until daydream-Envy and daydream-Malice burst in through the windows and destroy the entire daydream-apartment and kill daydream-Roman and daydream- Logan and kidnap a still crying daydream-Patton.

He shoves the spoons into his pockets with a clatter; It’s too early to be thinking about that, too.

He creeps out of the bathroom, but doesn’t mean much. Remus isn't in the room and there���s no sign that he had been there for a while. His bed is untouched from where Virgil remembered him lounging yesterday when he’d come back, the hilt of that sword he’d been snacking on was still tossed carelessly by the door, Remus’s boots and his leather jacket were gone from the sad pile of dirty laundry Remus liked to keep in the corner to scare Virgil at 2am.

 Virgil's stomach twists at the memory of his face last night: both his dragon force coming out and the idea that he'd rather not talk about one day escaping than risk hoping for it before finishing with the final blow of the casual, painful way he had implied that Thomas Sanders would never want him.

Normally they would pretend it never happened; Remus would make a clever insulting remark about Virgil's generally terrible deposition and Virgil would snark back something about stupid looking outfits and ride along with the conversation from there because it was as close as either of them could get to apologies without breaking into hives. If it was super bad, there would be food based bribery involved.

It's not like Remus to run away first.

Which means something bad is going on and Virgil slept through Act I of it. 

His poncho is hanging over the heater, dried and cleaned from the mud that had been on it yesterday-- he checks the clock by his bed, and yep, it’s been nearly twelve hours. Remus must have really felt bad if he went ahead and washed it himself even though Virgil has other ponchos he can wear, and Remus doesn’t even know what a washing machine is.

Well. Virgil isn’t going to make a man grovel. 

He grabs it off the hanger and slips it on relishing in the buzzing feeling he calls warmth, as close to a hug from Remus as he’ll get for now. It smells like Vanilla, aka Virgil’s personally preferred detergent that Remus doesn’t even like, much less keep in stock.

Oh.

 Oh, he really felt bad.

Virgil feels bad for how much Remus feels bad about this. Honestly it wasn’t even like Remus was wrong. Virgil had been overreacting and acting like a brat; Remus had just revealed that his entire childhood had been wiped out by murderers who got away with it and his brother was alive and fine and apparently never really considered that Remus might have survived at all and all Virgil could think about is that he was sad that the greatest good mage in the world wouldn’t like him after he kidnapped and nearly drowned three of the man’s guild members.

It’s so stupid. He owes Remus an apology, and he’s not sure spoons are enough for it.

He wrings his hands through his poncho and promises himself that he’ll buy Remus some like rusted tire irons or something next time he’s able to. Remus liked rusted things from what Virgil remembered; it added flavor or texture or something to the metal that he liked to gnaw. Sometimes if Virgil brought him back a big enough metal item, he’d turn it into something else like mini statues that fit in the palm of Virgil’s hand with remarkable details down to the folds in the fabrics that left Virgil particularly confused about where he learned to do that and why are these so well made?

((Remus’s answer always is just a grin and him asking if Virgil wants to find out what else his tongue is good at.))

He laces his shoes, hanks up his hood, and takes a deep breath.

The door was still damaged from last night; in fact it’s in a worse shape now, considering it looked like Remus forwent trying to keep the hinges intact. There’s a solid inch gap between the wall and the door now and two noticeable boot sized prints in the poor metal door. Honestly, Virgil is a little surprised the noise of Remus leaving hadn’t woken the dead back up, much less woken up Virgil from his nice little coma-nap.

Virgil tries not to think too hard about it all. He dodges through the gap and reforms on the other side of the door, stretching out his watery form and testing his control as he walks towards the common areas.

As much as Virgil hates the idea…if Remus is answering a call from Guildmaster Clay, then Virgil should probably position himself somewhere to find out where Remus was. It wasn’t often that Clay went to the trouble of separating them: the fact that Virgil stayed instead of running that first night, the fact that Virgil had gone a one on one with Greed for Remus’s contract, the fact that Virgil and Remus had did everything together had alerted even the Guildmaster to the idea that they worked better together than apart. 

((Honestly, it was really the fact that Clay separated them for this that spelled Virgil’s own loss against Roman, Patton, and Logan. If Remus had been there…. Well it wouldn’t have been quiet, but it sure as hell would have been quick and successful.

Together they could get anything done. And if Virgil was ever in the mood for a terrible, agonizing death, he’d even tell that to the Guildmaster himself.))

For most of Remus’s missions and jobs it was understood that Virgil would be right along next to him, lurking like a shadow, covering all his blindspots. It wasn’t like anyone else the Guildmaster sent to supervise Remus would do it. As such, Virgil’s place was generally beside Remus. If he wasn’t there it was because he was given orders to do something else and it was better to stay out of his way until he got it done. 

But Virgil highly doubted that the Guildmaster would be even remotely pleased to see Virgil’s face. At best he’d be interrupting a plan, at worst Virgil would be inviting his own murder to happen and Remus would live on thinking forever that Virgil was upset at him. So that’s a no.

It was likely that by now Malice and Envy were back. They were always generally in decent moods if Virgil entertained their need to boast about how they won their battles, and probably wouldn’t be against sending Virgil towards Remus (most likely with a jovial threat to deliver like Virgil is Remus’s errand boy). But Virgil didn’t know if he could stomach listening politely to whatever Malice did to Logan--embellished or not-- and he definitely wouldn’t be able to keep cool with Envy started showing off her crystals of concentrated Dragon Slayer Magic she pulled out of Roman before he could even manifest a candle light. So no to both of them.

Pride wasn’t the type of person that Virgil trusted himself to be around. If Virgil moved too fast he could still feel the buzz of electricity coursing through him, boiling him inside and without someone to tell him that Virgil was necessary for whatever grand big plan, Pride wouldn’t bother stopping an attempt to kill him. 

That leaves…. Greed.

Well. The bright side is at least Virgil always knows where Greed likes to lurk.

***

Virgil hears the raspy wet coughing laugh long before he actually sees Greed.

The script mage looks unextraordinary compared to other members of the guild: he has none of the flashy bejeweled outfits that Envy likes to flaunt around to make people look and remember, none of Malice’s warped scars that speak of how little he cares about keeping his enemies in one piece, and none of Pride’s pretentious, precocious aura which maintains a fifteen foot radius of personal space around him at all times. What Greed does have is a gnarled spine that causes him to slump over nearly half his height and walk with a cane, and a long overcoat riddled with age and which trails after him by nearly a whole foot, making him appear like just another old man who is still in denial that his prime had long passed. His skin is graying out, spotted in strange places, and clinging to his bones so loosely that Virgil always gets the impression that the flabs are seconds away from dripping right off him. His hair had been white and wispy since before the founding of the Magic Council and very clearly it hasn’t gotten any more flushed. He squints very hard when he first meets someone new as if he can’t see them all that well, and can hear them even less well.

He looks like a man who is desperately alone, desperately sad without grandchildren to take care of him; a man whom the gracious guildmaster had offered to take into his business to give him a bit of purpose in what remained of his sad, lonely life.

That had been Virgil’s first impression of him (back when he and Remus were eighteen and giddy with disbelief that a guild might actually want them) and he still gets furious with his younger self for having felt pity for the guy who looked like a stiff breeze might have knocked him over directly into a grave.

“Still alive, are you?” The man croaks out, part of a cough wet and raspy and Virgil finds himself wishing that it would develop into an incurable disease already. “The guildmaster is going soft in his old age. In my day, your kind wouldn’t have made it back from your first job, much less survived long enough to screw up as much as you do.”

“Do you practice these lines in the mirror?” Virgil asks, doing his best to keep his hands out of sight in his poncho lest Greed see how much he’s actually shaking. “Or does being an asshole that no one likes just something you know how to do naturally?”

The man wallows out a wet laugh again, leaning on his cane and showing off his yellowed teeth. “Careful, Boy. You better be sure this guild won’t miss you before you start throwing around challenges like that.”

Virgil’s decently sure that no one would miss Greed too terribly much either. Vastly over assuming his value to the Guildmaster is a hobby that Virgil thinks the man would enjoy. Right along with trapping teenagers in unbreakable contracts and haunting a library of tomes detailing forgotten magics he didn’t think anyone else was worthy of even looking at. Virgil managed to sneak into the library only once, searching for Remus’s contract that Greed kept behind layers and layers of traps, but in the end the thing that had fucked him the most was Guildmaster Clay putting a hand on Virgil’s collarbone and saying “You know better than to try that again now, don’t you? You can keep this as a reminder, Virgil.”

Virgil shakes off the memory, pretending like he doesn’t notice the rain rapping against the windows in a very telling way. Based on Greed’s gurgle, it doesn’t get past him either.

“Do you know where Remus is?” Virgil grinds out.

“Yes.”

Virgil waits for more and the man continues with his uneven pace right by Virgil as if he hadn’t said anything at all. For a moment Virgil considers throwing the full force of his Water Cane at his hobbling weak form and seeing if the ancient protection runes magic carved into his limbs under his cloak could protect him from being torn apart at point blank range.

((Of course if it had been that easy, Remus never would have been stuck here in the first place.))

“Where,” Virgil says, between his teeth, “can I find Remus?”

“One day you aren’t going to be able to keep mooching off that boy,” Greed spits. “Although I supposed that’s the only way your kind survives in these ages, isn’t it? Those damned Magic Counsel fools writing those laws declaring you creatures humans, making it a crime to send you back to the elements you came from! If it were up to me--”

 “We don’t have to do the whole song and dance every time--”

”--You hover over that boy’s shoulder, taking credit for the good work he does for the guildmaster, siphoning off his potential, and pitifully whining at the guildmaster until he gives you another chance, just to disappoint--”

“Will you just tell me!” Virgil says.

“--mannerless, talentless--”

“Why did I even bother!” Virgil hisses out. Thunder rumbles outside the castle, and Virgil spins on his heel away from that asshole of an old man, mentally hoping that the guy drops dead in an hour or two. He supposes it's also thoughts like that, that would make him a terrible Star Burst mage. 

“It’s your fault!” Greed adds. “That Malice and Envy ended up getting as hurt as they did! Those damn brats were supposed to be your problem but then you went and screwed that up and now both of them are in the infirmary--”

Virgil freezes. “What?”

Because it sounds like Greed is saying that Malice and Envy lost. He makes it sound like Roman and Patton and Logan managed to fend off two of Shadow Force with less than no warning and no real powers thanks to Envy’s magic. He makes it sound like the Star Burst’s Mages were still alive and that Virgil failing his task hadn’t signed their death warrants.

“Wipe that look off your face, Boy,” Greed says. “They still completed the mission you should have done, you useless, waste of--”

“Greed.”

The old man stops immediately in what he’s saying, but Virgil knows better than to be relieved at that. From the shadows (like an asshole with too much time on his hands), Pride strolls out, eyes narrowed and unimpressed with the situation. The air seems to tense around them, charged with electricity that triggers all of Virgil’s fight-or-flight instincts and the scent of burning flesh wafts between all three of them for a second. 

“The Guildmaster requests your presence, Greed,” Pride says, with a sneer that speaks to volumes about how Pride feels about being used as a messenger, when he’s… well, Pride. Lightning flickers over his shoulder, tastefully suggesting all the terrible things he could do with it and Virgil and a dark hallway that everyone avoids.

Greed humphs, shifting his grip on his walking stick. He turns away from Virgil, cloak trailing after him like a snake and Virgil considers stepping on it and watching the man choke and fall over. Pride, however, is watching him, and Virgil knows better than to move without permission.

The rain batters the windows, distant lightning briefly illuminating the sky to the rhythm of Virgil’s heartbeat. It’s a long moment, where Virgil balances on the precipice of throwing himself through the floorboards and hoping he can make it to the room underneath them without too much trouble before Pride decides to eliminate him entirely for his own entertainment.

It wouldn’t take much. Barely a twitch of Pride’s fingers, and Virgil is fast but even he’s not faster than light. The energy would hum in his body, stiffening his limbs until he turned into a doll and then Pride could simply tilt his head and send all that racing towards that poison in Virgil’s chest. Virgil would feel the excruciating pain, maybe even get a chance to scream before he exploded into thousands of droplets of watered down poison and his consciousness had nothing to cling to at all. 

Remus would know he was gone by the way that sun glittered on the dew drops, by the way that he realizes that he hasn’t heard the sound of rain in a while, by the way he turns around and there’s no annoying rain witch standing in his blind spot like a shadow he can’t get rid of--

“Remus is downstairs in the cellars,” Pride says. “Go.”

And then he turns away heading back down the halls as if the interaction had never happened and Virgil wasn’t worth his time and Virgil hadn’t been certain that his own death was about to occur.

Virgil pretends the tremble in his hands is from the rush of knowing where to find Remus.

***

Honestly, Virgil isn’t sure the cellars in Chimera Tongue’s castle-shaped Guildhall had a truly thought out purpose. They were nearly always damp and cold due to the fact that Virgil keeps the entire region decently flooded and miserable with his storm, and the fact that the stones used to build the castle and its foundations were about as good at insulation as Virgil was at turning off his storm.

Thus, guild members don’t tend to like going into them very often. The cellars hadn’t housed alcohol since before Virgil had first arrived, and he highly doubted that it would after Virgil’s mysteriously unimportant disappearance and other than having empty cavernous rooms with little light, there weren’t any upsides to going down there.

Remus and Virgil had been together a few times, looking for a place to spar when they weren’t on a job and didn’t want to deal with other people. But as their ability to read each other had grown, the need for space to utilize more moves or create new ones had also grown, and Remus had gotten a taste for kicking people out of the way when he wanted to use a space in the upstairs gym areas.

Virgil skips using the doors to check which of the cellars Remus is in. It’s far easier to borrow the pipes and slip through the unsealed cracks in the walls without having to worry about anyone else asking what he’s doing wandering around in the dark and possibly doing something about it.

And well…Virgil doesn’t believe in ghosts, but he’s also not going to tempt fate into making him a believer by just… waltzing around in a possibly haunted basement. Of all places to be haunted, Chimera Tongue’s Guildhall would surprise Virgil the least.

The first two cellars are empty, without dust even being remotely disturbed. It’s quiet as a tomb in all of them, and Virgil is about to suspect that Pride sent him on a wild goblin chase when he plops into the third and finds it surprisingly halfway full of people loitering around like it was a funeral wake. 

Bewildered, Virgil shifts back into his human form, settling on a support beam over their heads encased in shadows that make the prospects of spiders clinging increase tenfold. All at once dozens of more human senses come back: the murky scent of perpetually wet earth, the faint taste of rain and a distinct lack of any type of tingling that might suggest warmth. If Virgil was a creature that actually breathed in the sense of taking in oxygen from the air and pushing it back out, he would have expected his breath to condense as he searched through the heads of guild members for Remus. 

It’s not even remotely hard to find him.

Remus is wearing mostly black today, with green accents and silver chains whose ringing are the only noise this far beneath the castle. The cut of his shirt is jagged and harsh and leaves enough skin showing for his guildmark to be on full display to everyone even with his leather jacket on, which Virgil knows Remus hates people being able to see. He’s sitting on a long forgotten and abandoned table, one foot up on the flat surface, next to a brown paper bag that seems to have been untouched for a while. He’s looking bored out of his mind and angry about it as he swings his free foot back and forth and causes the slight tingtingting of his metal laced laces to make contact with one another. 

At each cling the entire room seems to hold its breath, waiting to see if Remus is going to pounce on the nearest person and start giving them free dental work to solve the apparent lack of entertainment.

Nearby Remus, just out of reach, is a smaller form sitting against the side of the table curled into a ball and slightly shaking. It takes Virgil far too long to recognize him.

Patton doesn’t look good, not that Virgil expected him to. He was familiar enough with Malice and Envy’s particularly sadistic form of hospitality to be surprised that Patton has all of his fingers. 

From his vantage point above, he’s able to see that Patton is covered in bumps and bruises so dense that Virgil can’t tell where one starts and others ends. There’s a shallow scrape along his cheek, something too deliberate to have been a battle accident: Virgil has a sneaking suspicion that if he got close enough he’d be able to see what freckles Malice was playing dot-to-dot with on Patton’s face. 

His arms are bound at the wrists with coarse rope behind his back, tight enough to leave uncomfortable marks digging into his skin every time he twitches. He is sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest, and although his ankles weren’t tied, his head is bent in a way that suggests he realized that running wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Virgil can make out the cracks in his glasses where some not-so-gentle force had been applied in order to get him from his safe and cozy Star Burst home to their damp and dark and miserable castle. 

It seems like Malice and Envy didn’t give Patton a chance to activate one of his tracking cards.

Or simply, there was no one to come for him anymore. Like a phone call that will never be answered.

Virgil wonders if Remus had realized that Roman might be dead, or if he cared at all. He isn’t sure how he himself felt other than very super awfully terribly bad.

He didn’t like Roman, and didn’t like him even more after knowing that he chose himself over Remus, chose Patton over Remus, chose and acted like Remus should have still been grateful to call him “brother”, but part of him thought about the pure grief in Remus’s body, about all the words that Remus deserved a chance to say to Roman, about how closure was a lot harder to get when you wanted it from ghosts. 

Also he kinda liked Logan-- annoyance about his assumption that Virgil didn’t try to control his power aside. He was intimidating and strange in the same way that Remus was intimidating and strange, even if his intimidation came from being far smarter than Virgil, where as Remus’s was from being far stronger and a lot more insane at times.

There are a few other guys around, none that Virgil recognizes enough by name. He thinks he saw one of them use gun magic once, and another picto magic, but honestly…they're grunts. The guildmaster probably doesn't even know their faces and he probably would toss them into a losing battle as fodder for fun.

((The grunts don't know that of course. They think they're powerful, part of an elite force, something to be feared. They've never been invited to a fancy study and been handed a contract and watched their best friend try to carve off his skin after he signed his name…))

“Jeez,” Virgil says, letting his voice echo in the otherwise silent room and forcing the weakness out of his mind for now. “Remind me never to let you babysit again.”

Most of the grunts startle, which is somewhat amusing to see in the corner of his vision: sparks of light, a few curses, that break the tenuous silence, and the jerky movements of them trying to get back into their intimidating dick measuring stances while still looking around for the source of the disembodied voice. Virgil’s been making people jump at shadows since he was seven but there’s something magical about seeing grown men suddenly fear for their lives.

The only two people who look up are Remus and Patton.

Patton’s clearly been on edge for far longer than his rich heir or his Star Burst mage body knows how to manage, but also he seems to relax a bit when he recognizes that the newcomer is someone he’s met before. Virgil does not think too long about that-- he doesn’t think about it at all actually. Nope. No thinking. He doesn’t even know what he would do with the realization that maybe Patton felt a modicum of safety in Virgil’s presence, like Virgil was likely to be a wall between him and all the bad people down below and it wouldn’t end with both of them dead.

Remus tilts his head just enough to let Virgil know that he also picked up on the way that Patton’s shoulders had shifted down just a bit and his breathing had hitched and then evened out. But beyond that, in atypical-for-Remus fashion he doesn’t make a move to acknowledge it.

Virgil thinks he might be too busy trying to wipe the relief of seeing Virgil wearing the hoodie he painstakingly cleaned before any of the grunts noticed.

“Oh, hello there, Bath Water,” Remus says cheerily, dropping his foot to the ground and shooting to his feet with an excited maniac energy that definitely causes the grunts to look nervous and back up. Most of them have enough common sense to learn from past mistakes of getting caught in Remus's bad moods. The few that don’t…well they don't usually survive for round two. “I thought you were dead!”

“Unfortunately for us both, I still draw breath on this wretched plane of existence.” Virgil says, stretching as he teeters on the beam above them, watching Remus’s hands for any sign of metal expanding over them. “How long was I out for?”

“Twelve hours, give or take,” Remus waves a hand theatrically in the air as if he hasn’t been worried about him, hasn’t been counting the minutes down, hasn’t been missing Virgil at all. “I would have woken you, but I was enjoying the sunshine, shithead.”

There’s a fierceness to Remus’s grin. His tongue piercing rolls over his teeth with a clink clink clink, but Virgil can get the underlying message easily without it. Clay had called him with an order to assign him to this babysitting job, and Remus had complied.

At least there aren’t any bleeding marks on his arms from what Virgil can see. Virgil counts his blessings, if that could even be counted as a blessing. It seemed that more and more, Remus stopped fighting back and that knowledge paired with their unfinished conversation from last night doesn’t bode well for his mental state.

Virgil doesn’t know what he’ll do if Remus gives up. He doesn’t know what he can do. Hope the Magic Council arrests them both and puts them in a cell together, pretty please?

“Yeah, well, hope you enjoyed the sun while it was here,” Virgil says, boredly because he’s heard every variation of the sun is better than your company and Remus doesn’t actually mean it. Probably. “I’m here to ruin everyone’s lives now. Whoop-de-doo.”

“Aw, and you don’t even try.”

Patton makes a sharp wounded noise. Virgil tells himself that it's because Patton breathed too deep and a broken rib caused a pinch of pain, rather than entertain the idea that Patton had almost just defended Virgil against a Metal Dragon Slayer who put rebars through people on a whim sometimes.

“Got something to add, Ace?” Remus snarls at the card mage and Patton shakes his head. “That’s what I thought. Go back to pretending like you have Roman’s dick in your mouth.”

“Now that was crossing a line,” Virgil sighs, as fury so white hot crossed over Patton’s face that even some of the grunts inched backwards. Remus, however, doesn’t look even remotely intimidated: arms behind his head, each of his metal rings clink, clink, clinking together as he flexes his hands like he’s imagining gripping Virgil’s neck and squeezing. 

“If he didn’t want me to say it, he wouldn’t act like the sun shines out of Roman’s ass,” Remus snaps. 

“If you were jealous of your twin's ass, you could have just asked me for an affirmation,” Virgil says. “I’d let you know that yours is flatter any day.”

"If you wanted me to paint the walls with your insides, you just had to say the word, Virgin! Three more days of sunshine coming right-fucking-up.”

“It doesn’t feel like it would be enough,” Virgil comments with part of a yawn to show just how impressed by the threat he is. Virgil leans against the supporting beam, making sure that Remus can see his bored expression from down there. “I need like three more decades of straight sleep.”

“I can arrange that. I would be fucking peachy to arrange that,” Remus says, cracking his knuckles so loudly that the sound echoes in the room. His black nail polish glints in the low light. “Though I should warn you that no amount of beauty sleep is going to fix your face when I’m done with it.”

“Careful, Remus, or people are going to start assuming you have standards.”

He grins with all his pointed teeth, metal creeping over his neck, shiny and unbreakable even against Virgil’s strongest pressurized water attack. “What exactly are you doing here, other than being extremely punchable, Wastewater? Don’t you have somewhere else to be where you can disappoint your dead parents a bit more?”

“Ouch,” Virgil comments blandly. “Are we at the dead parents' jokes, already?”

He pretends he doesn’t notice how their large audience is quietly watching their back and forth with very little variety of expressions on their faces. Most of them are taking steps back, carving out an arena that Remus looks far too hungry to see, to feel, to use. The tension along Remus’s shoulders reads like a fucking book: the bumbling, brash, bubbling need to destroy something whether it be someone else or himself. Patton looks too soft, too worried, too nervous and Virgil forces himself not to glance at him and ask why do you look worried for me? Why do you care what happens to me? Why do I make you feel safer after everything I did to you?

Virgil swallows and tugs the brim of his hood higher over his head. “Came to see what you were up to, Loser. Heard there was a guest and I’ve never known you to be a good party host.”

Remus barks out a laugh that could have been confused with something gargling glass fragments. Patton jumps slightly at the sound of it, squeezing his eyes shut and letting out a shuddering breath. 

“Oh! I know how to throw a great fucking party! Me, Patty, and all our friends here are playing a fun party game called no one says shit and I don’t break anyone's face again. Several people have already lost. You can join in if you want, and shut the fuck up before I put you in the ground where you belong.”

Virgil snorts. “Me? in the ground? Please. You couldn’t beat me if you actually tried.”

“I definitely could, spritz.”

“You seem to be misremembering how our last fight ended.”

“What makes you think it ended?” Remus growls out. “Come on down here, Virgie. Unless you’re too much of a coward.”

“I can take you down in forty-five seconds.”

“I’m counting.”

They stare at each other for a second, two, three… and it’s just that Remus looks so ridiculous looking up at Virgil for the first time. He’s a foot taller than him, and had so many times plopped his arm on Virgil’s head as a rest, or accidentally put a fist through Virgil’s face when telling a story because he forgot Virgil’s short. From this angle, he has to crane his neck, nearly breaking it, to get a good idea of where all of Virgil’s limbs are, and it almost looks like he’s just glaring at the sky about to fight the rain for making Virgil sad.

Virgil just can’t help it. His lips twitch upwards. 

Thankfully that's all Remus needs to see for him to throw his head back and laugh his booming laughter that nearly shakes the whole castle at its foundations. Virgil’s chest hums with the warmth of the sound, the familiarness of it, the way that it can curl into a threat when it chooses but Virgil has never heard it threaten him even after Virgil got his bike destroyed. 

The grunts lose their formations; a scattered mess of nameless people all laughing it off with a type of lightness that only comes from desperately trying not to show how nervous they were. Remus made sure everyone knew that Virgil and him had leveled towns in their fights when they were serious and the only people who ever knew when they were serious were the two of them. 

((Patton lets out a nearly inaudible sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping forward like a puppet with his strings cut, and Virgil pretends he doesn’t see it even when Remus’s eyes flick over to their captive guest and something dark passes over his expression.))

He lets himself drop down from the rafters, tracing the metal beams like a raindrop, just to pool back into his human form at the floor level, where he bounces with his landing with ease. The Chimera Tongue mages around him all give him a healthy bit of personal space, and Virgil ignores them entirely. 

Divines, it’s good to have some of his energy back. He feels like a new man-- He’s sure that if it weren’t for the crippling weight of Remus’s contract, possibly being arrested in the near future, the bomb in his chest, the dull thudding of the headache, and the fact that he participated in a kidnapping, he’d actually be enjoying himself right now.

There’s not much in the room, which Virgil can’t decide if it's a blessing or a curse. On the bright side if a fight does break out there’s less things to damage or have thrown at them, which means less things they’re going to have to pay Guildmaster Clay back for, even though the engraving on that table alone is making Virgil’s imaginary wallet weep. On the totally bad side, that means there’s less things for Remus to have been distracting himself with that wasn’t putting his knuckles through people’s teeth.

There’s a bit of blood on the ground not too far away. Virgil pretends he doesn’t see it.

"Hey," Virgil snaps his fingers at the nearest guild member, who definitely flinches back at being addressed. Virgil thinks he might have been the one that called him Window Washer yesterday; crazy how when there’s a Dragon Slayer in the vicinity people get much nicer to Virgil. "Get lost."

"Uh," the guy says nervously, glancing between Virgil and Remus, "the guildmaster said--"

"If the guildmaster has a problem with it you’re welcome to tell him to come talk to me directly. Of course, he would have to, considering that you’d be a stain on the ground for bothering him….” Virgil trails off and then shrugging. “And really, do you think that you have a better shot in a fight with the Metal Dragon Slayer than I do?”

Remus curls his fingers into a fist and all of his bones make a resounding, disturbing, horrible cracking noise that almost makes Virgil glance back at him in terror. The grunt’s eyes widen in fear and he stutters a step back and honestly? Same. 

“Don't make me repeat myself,” Virgil suggests trying to recover without losing his intimidation factor. “Your body is made up of about 40 liters of water. I only need 4 milliliters to drown you where you're standing. And it wouldn’t even cause a mess!"

Probably wouldn’t make a mess. Virgil’s not sure and he doesn’t really want to find out. But you know what? There’s something satisfying about watching grown men turn tail and run.

Most of them are out the door in seconds; the rest of them are scrambling up from where they were shoved out of the way and following after. The doorway isn’t big enough for more than one of them to fit through at a time and the frantic clambering of them struggling to get through is probably the loudest that the whole room had been in a while. Part of Virgil trills at the sight of it, that sliver of power that he wouldn’t get anywhere else. If only he’d been this bold with the bullies at this orphanage instead of playing hide-and-seek until the Orphanage Leader tossed him out. 

Remus laughs as the door slams closed leaving just the two of them and Patton and a room too big for just the three of them. "Ah shit, they think you would do that, still?"

Virgil lets himself sit on the table, pausing only to nod in the direction of Patton without waiting to see if he would or could nod back. "Having a brain isn't exactly a requirement for recruitment around here."

He doesn’t think about the two of them, just eighteen years old, stumbling into the guild hall, grins of nervous laughter and looking for a fight. He doesn’t think about how the guildmaster smiled at them and offered them free lodging for a week while they decided if they wanted to stay. He doesn't think about how having a brain isn't synonymous with not being an idiot, and that a smarter, better, more powerful water mage wouldn’t have just stood there in horror when the red lines of magic tore into Remus’s skin.

And mercifully, Remus doesn’t think about it either.

“Strange bag of unknown origins that hasn’t been touched….Is this for me?” Virgil says, poking at the paper bag of questionable origin on the table. Something in it is sweating, making the paper outside threaten to rip at his touch. “What is it?”

“A severed human head.” Remus waves a hand towards it, in as much of a dismissive gesture as a permissive one. He turns his back to him, stretching his arms over his head in a way that showed off his very impressive arm muscles. His metal toed boots clack-ed on the ground, with the faint jingle of his extra stash of metal bits that he’d no doubt been snacking on. "Muffins, but warning: I only take payment in the form of super sexual favors. You should get on your knees now."

Patton’s ears turn red at the statement and there's a hitch in his breathing that makes Remus grin wider and Virgil rolls his eyes. He doesn’t even want to know what Remus has convinced Patton their relationship is by now, if Remus had even been talking about him at all to Patton. 

"Is that so?" Virgil says, helping himself to the bag where there are, indeed, muffins. Three, to be exact, and all blueberry with crystalized sugar on top, as per Virgil’s preferred muffin specifications. He’d gone on a rant once about it a month after they had first month and he hadn’t thought Remus had been listening or cared, but well… here they were, and Remus was doing that thing that he does where he acts like the far wall is extremely interesting.

There's also a bottle of an energy drink that Virgil likes in there, still covered in condensation from where Remus has stored it to keep it cool. Virgil does his best not to look accusingly at Remus, because those were pricey and they both agree it was frivolous expense Virgil could do without. 

"Actually, fuck you,” Virgil says, making sure that Remus can hear the guilt that put a strangle hold on his lungs. “You know what? I'm really considering it this time. Where's my debt at, right now?"

"Depends," Remus says, bulldozing straight through what anyone else would call an almost-apology. “What did you grab me from Magnolia?” 

((It's easier like this, Virgil thinks. Remus gets him his favorite foods, Virgil finds a new piece of metal to feed him and see what type of mineral upgrades it could give his scale armor for the next thirty minutes. They remember that they're in this together, however hopeless, however dangerous, however draining and miserable and terrible. It's them against the world: Rule One and Rule Four working in tandem so neither of them have to utter the words I'm sorry for the situation I got us both in; If I was slightly less useless, we’d be traveling the countryside without a care in the world right now instead of participating in illegal activities.))

Virgil picks up a muffin and shoves it in his mouth, uncaring for the paper wrapper before he carefully digs through his pockets until he finds the collection of spoons he swiped from Patton’s house and pulls one out to wave at him.

Remus lights up like lightning in the sky, shining so brightly Virgil almost thought he might have been that mystical sun he’s always heard about. His eyes lock onto the metal with an intensity that comes only from being distinctly more-than-human and Remus’s limbs still in a way that reads as preparing to lunge. Virgil flicks the spoon in the air and Remus dives for it like some type of animal, skidding across the cement floor away from Patton. He catches the spoon in his mouth, letting his teeth shatter the handle and gratefully swallowing it in a way that still unnerves Virgil after all these years--He’s seen snakes that don’t look so horrible eating things whole.

But it doesn’t matter much because Remus spits it out in the next breath with a dramatic whine.

“Wet Dream, how could you!” He gags. “Sterling silver?! Couldn’t you have at least bought the stainless steel kind?!”

“You’re lucky it's not plastic!” Virgil says around his bite of muffin and very deliberately does not look at Patton because oh god he thought those were normal ass spoons, he just fed a mostly silver spoon to a trash compactor, the other spoons in his pocket were probably worth more than he had saved up from all his time of working as a wizard.

Actually no, he is looking at Patton because why does he have sterling silver spoons? No one has sterling silver spoons. Those things are expensive as all fuck. 

Remus reads his expression like a billboard in the middle of Hargeon Port, though. The delighted look he’d gotten on his face at the prospect of a new metal is nothing compared to the euphoria that he gets at the sight of Virgil’s distress. He theatrically gasps, grinning all the way as he languidly rolls out his shoulders. “Effluent! Did you steal these spoons? Did you steal these spoons from the guy you were hired to kidnap? How low could you get!”

“Please don’t try to talk to me about morally correct actions,” Virgil says, peeling the wrapper off the muffin while trying to catch all the crumbs before they hit the floor. 

“You’ve been officially converted!” Remus continues. “Wittle Wirgil is growing up! Entering his evil phase! Next thing you know he’ll be--”

“I’ll pay you in sexual favors to shut up at this point.”

“--jaywalking! Or blasting his emo music too loud after 10pm! Or littering! Perhaps even waving a vulgar hand sign at a middle class elder woman--”

“Do you want these spoons or not?!” Virgil snaps, ignoring the blush on his cheeks that should not be there because he’s not embarrassed by Remus’s stupid impression of him that’s not even close to being accurate. Virgil hates littering, and you only get splattered across a windshield one time before you decide that jaywalking as a nearly see-through entity in a black outfit while it's raining is a hazard.

“No wait, I’ll be quiet!” Remus’s grin doesn’t completely disappear, but he does stop talking finally-- a monumental task for him-- and they say to reward even the little victories so Virgil tosses the rest over and watches Remus catch most of them with little difficulty.

Virgil stuffs the rest of his muffin in his mouth and glances towards Patton. “Uh, sorry.” He swallows, “About your spoons. I hope they weren’t an heirloom.”

Patton shifts uncomfortably glancing between Virgil and Remus, with his mouth opening and closing.

Virgil waves a dismissive hand towards Remus, who is thoroughly enthralled with his new meal. His eyes hold a faint green glow to them as he digests the metal, clocking the strength of it against his usual steel and deciding if he likes the taste more when it comes as an apology gift from Virgil’s rare side crimes. He checks the scales on his forearm in the minimal light, tapping his nails against as part of his usual new-metal-check routine or whatever.

 “He doesn’t really care if you speak or not,” Virgil says by way of explanation to the Star Burst mage. “He didn’t want the others making small talk with him. They try to cozy up to him because he’s one of the strongest in the guild.”

“Oh,” Patton says in a small voice that’s nearly overshadowed by Remus crunching on metal carelessly. “Uhm… no the spoons were, uhm, they weren’t really mine.”

Virgil blinks. “I’m going to regret asking this, but whose were they? No offense but I don’t think Roman or Logan can afford silver spoons.” 

Could. Oh fuck why did he open his mouth?

Patton half laughs, more like a sigh, more like he can’t believe that his kidnappers are discussing ownership of spoons which are being actively demolished. And well, in his defense, Virgil also can’t believe he’s trying to have a conversation like that. “Uhm… You know about my dad?”

“Hart enterprises,” Virgil says neutrally. “Uh trains? I think.”

Patton looks down at his scraped knees, with an expression that reads somewhere between I wish I was being run over by a train and I wish you were being run over by a train. 

“Yeah, it’s trains,” Patton says. “My great grandfather started the company generations ago before Magic guilds were a thing. My grandfather made a bad investment when my dad was a kid and it nearly cost the entire company…my dad swore to never let that happen again. That silverware was one of the first things he bought my mother after they got married and he promised her she’d live like a princess.”

Virgil stares at him with muted horror. “Did you just let me feed your dead mother’s sterling silver spoons to a garbage can?”

“That’s mean,” Patton protests. “Remus isn’t a garbage can--”

“Patton!” Virgil says, tugging on his poncho wishing it could choke him. “Are those spoons your mother’s?”

The card mage shrugs as if it's that simple. “Yeah, but don’t worry about it! I’m glad they’re getting, uhm, use! I don’t even think Dad noticed they were missing and I haven’t been able to make myself use them since I unpacked them. All they’d been doing is reminding me of how life used to be before my mom died.”

Patton takes a deep breath and lets it out and Virgil considers slamming his own head against the table. 

“He used to…uhm. He used to be a good person. People liked working for him and with him. He smiled a lot.” Patton glances back up at Virgil. “But after my mom died he kinda lost himself in the company and doing the most to earn profits regardless of workers rights…People started to complain and my dad didn’t want those complaints to reach “people who mattered” so he, uhm. He paid some dark mages to go visit the people who were complaining.”

Virgil isn’t a stranger to those types of jobs. Actually, Virgil had been on more than one of those for Guildmaster Clay’s business. Remus and Virgil were very effective at intimidation and since they weren’t as valued as the other members of Shadow Force it was usually them sent to do it. It always left Virgil feeling a little slimy afterwards, and put Remus in the type of mood that was only solved with copious amounts of alcohol and a good sparring match.

“It got worse after that,” Patton continues. “Ignoring safety regulations, understaffing, paying off people when lawsuits popped up or finding scapegoats to pin the blame on. All while making a fortune at the estate as if he could buy my mother back from death! He forced me to stop practicing magic around the house and forbid me from leaving without his permission and--”

“He sounds like an ass,” Remus says, causing Patton to flinch and squeak as if he had forgotten the Dragon Slayer was there. Virgil doesn’t necessarily blame him: Remus had this ability to look like he was completely absorbed in something else, and yet still be completely aware of what was going on. Remus juggles the last spoon over his knuckles, flipping it into the air one last time before catching it in his mouth and snapping it clear in half and then he lets his silver scales fade back into his skin without looking at either of them.

Patton laughs in a way that comes out as more hysterical than pleased. “Uh yep! Yeah. He’s uhm, not great. He cashed in a favor with Guildmaster Clay to get me brought back to the estate so he can, uhm, marry me off… as part of a business negotiation...”

Virgil feels his stomach drop a little further. “Marry you off? What, like you’re a piece of property?”

“Yep,” He pops the ‘p’ as he says it and offers a watery, wilting smile that makes the cracks in his glasses seem larger and Virgil’s heart hurt a bit stronger and hate himself a little more. “I, uhm, guess I was pretty stupid to think running away would actually get me away from there.”

“What about Roman,” Remus asks, very unknindly. Virgil stares at him, and Remus ignores him in favor of glowering at Patton with all the sympathy of a feral demon looking for its next meal. “You don’t think that Fire Fucker will come save you? He ditched his dead twin brother for you.”

“Remus,” Virgil says.

“I don’t… I didn’t know he would come for me!” Patton says, apologetically. Virgil almost wants to reach out and shake him for it. “I didn’t think he kept the card after I gave it to him and then when everything happened I panicked and pulled a random card--”

“Do you have any idea what the fuck he did to me?”

“No! But--” Patton cuts back, shedding the cover of the scared little card mage and morphing into the kind guy who could go toe-to-toe with Guildmaster Clay without breaking a sweat and holy shit, that’s kinda terrifying; is this what all little business children learn to do? “But the Roman I know is a good person who makes mistakes sometimes! You don’t have to give him another chance, Remus, you don’t ever have to see him again if you don’t want to! But you don’t get to tell me the man I know isn’t real because you’re hurting!”

“You are talking yourself into a fucking hopsital bed,” Remus warns.

“Guys!” Virgil says, but both of them ignore him.

“And it doesn’t matter! Roman won’t come for me again anyway!” Patton shouts, and Remus freezes. “My dad has too much magic around the house-- Roman wouldn’t be able to come even if he did find a real dragon--”

Virgil isn’t sure if it was the glowing green magic circle appearing under Remus’s feet, or the claws, or the horns twisting out of his hair, but Patton clamps his mouth shut nearly immediately. Virgil stands up, a step away, a little too far, and his insides swirl like a tidal wave trying to convince him to throw himself between Remus and his prey.

“What do you mean find a real dragon?” Remus snarls.

Patton squeaks something that is not a response, although even Virgil can’t think of a response that’s both a decent one and also doesn’t end with more blood on the floor.

"You're telling me," Remus says, eyes narrowing into slits, and teeth sharpening. “That dickwad has the audacity to call himself a dragon slayer, after the stories of the bravest heroes who were chosen for their heroic acts, from our hometown that was destroyed completely leaving us as the only ones who even remember those stories, after he left me to fucking die at the hands of cultists, and he never even met a real fucking dragon?"

Patton makes a squeak that sounds a bit like a dying chew toy, his complexion matching the toneless ashen color of the walls around them and that determined persona evaporating faster than Virgil’s insides when he starts to panic. Remus’s tail swings behind him dangerously, metal scales scraping the concrete.

"Uhm," Patton stutters, shaking, wilting so far back that Remus’s shadow completely covers him.  "I don’t--We don't…talk about it!"

Remus reaches out a hand and yanks Patton up by his shirt collar, pulling him completely off the ground with barely any trouble. “You fuckers don’t talk about it--”

“Remus, Rule Three,” Virgil cuts in even though he is not part of this conversation what’s-so-ever.

Remus blinks, caught off guard, and so is Patton Hart; they both jolt out of their…positions, and it's like watching street actors slip out of the roles they’re performing. The room stings with the silence, heavy and biting and Virgil stares at the blank space between Remus and Patton as if it held some answers. It doesn’t fool Remus who for sure is listening to his heartbeat with a beady, suspicious look that borders on being offended that Virgil isn’t encouraging him pummeling Patton into the concrete floor, isn’t outraged on his behalf, isn’t showing just how loyal Virgil is to Remus because loyalty is the only thing that Virgil has that worth keeping him around for--

Remus takes a deep breath, blows it out through his nose, and then lets go of Patton’s shirt. Patton hits the floor with a soft, pathetic oof, and Remus turns his back to him completely as if manifesting the “out of sight out of mind” concept. The green circle under his boots hums for a second and fades, and at the same time his tail disappears and his claws even out back to regular fingers.

“Alright, Virgin,” he says, dragging the metal piercing of his tongue along his teeth to draw out a clinkclinkclink. Then he says, “Ratings of the tea cakes in Magnolia. Start with the worst.”

“I didn’t have any,” Virgil says. “You know I didn’t have any. I wasn’t gone long enough to try any tea cakes.”

“Four out of ten,” Remus decides, hopping up on the table next to where Virgil was eating his muffins, his ragged curls bouncing lightly. “I ate like thirty of them and I’m still hungry! They had no metal razors in them at all!”

“Normal people can’t eat razors, you freak of nature,” Virgil rolls his eyes.

“If they weren’t cowards they could,” Remus counters. “SlapPat back me up: Are Magnolia tea cakes better with razors in them or without?”

For someone who lives (lived?) with Roman and Logan, he looks utterly bewildered by Remus’s change in tone and actions. Virgil isn’t sure why: he can’t imagine that living in a house that has to have a microwave with a sign reading “No Science in this one, LOGAN” is any more quirky than watching Remus forcefully drop a subject and pretend it doesn’t weigh heavily on his mind. Roman probably does something similar, too.

Did. Probably “did” something similar. 

Because Malice probably killed both Roman and Logan and then dragged Patton here by his hair. There’s a part of Virgil that doesn’t believe what Greed said about Malice being in the infirmary; there’s a part of Virgil that shakes from his knees thinking about Malice’s barrage of knives striking through Remus’s skin when his back was turned. He can’t imagine any of the Star Burst Mages managing to counter it.

But would Roman and Logan die to Malice like that? Roman broke out of Virgil’s waterlock from pure rage alone. Wouldn’t that translate to him having enough spite to defy death? But if Virgil was able to almost wipe them out by himself, what true chance did Star Burst’s Strongest Team really have against someone who actually wanted to kill them? 

Knives in flesh. Screaming. Blood pouring from Logan’s back. Envy’s laugh.

He needs to stop thinking about this. He really needs to stop thinking about it.

“--them so, please don’t hit me,” Patton is saying, tensing slightly.

Remus scoffs, “It’s your opinion, dipshit. I’m not going to be offended that you’ve got awful tastes. Who do you think I am?”

Patton shifts entirely to face Virgil, lightyears beyond being distressed. 

Virgil sighs. “Remus, we are currently holding him against his will, and literally seconds ago you almost put him through the wall.”

“Yes, and?”

“Divines, why am I even trying to explain this? How are you the one that got landed with this job? The guildmaster doesn't trust you as far as he can throw you." And probably further than that. There’s a reason why Remus isn’t allowed off the property unless with explicit instructions on who he can talk to and what he can do. 

((Virgil is reminded for a second that if he had run after that first night, after he had patched together Remus’s bleeding forearms and stayed awake for thirty six hours straight to make sure Remus didn’t try to peel through legal binding magic in with his own claws again-- if he had run that first time and told everyone what the guildmaster had done maybe something about all this would have changed.

But Virgil hadn’t been able to take the chance that the guild wouldn’t disappear overnight and that he’d never find them again. It had been the right call, in hour thirty seven, Guildmaster Clay had come to the room to teleport Remus to their new secret guildhall, merely raising an eye, “interesting,” at how Virgil was still there, stubborn and resentful and already attempting to plan how he was going to steal that contract and tear it apart himself.))

Remus snorts. "Well he doesn’t exactly have a choice now does he? Didn’t anyone tell you Envy’s in the infirmary and Malice needed stitching on every single limb of his? Both of them are nursing grudges so large they’re liable to kill out of spite. Pride and Greed are Pride and Greed, and Clay likes fucking with us so...."

"Wait, wait, wait, seriously? Malice is actually in the infirmary? Who landed a hit on Malice?" Virgil turns to look at Patton. "Which one of them?"

Patton hesitates before offering up a soft, "uh... me?"

Virgil blinks, suddenly thinking back to their interactions previously: how Patton went limp as a doll when Virgil drowned him, how when he woke up mostly confused and leaned into Virgil's back to avoid the rain, how even when he attacked he had stopped when Virgil was down and talked kindly to him and told Roman to back down and-- 

Obviously Remus is also stunned for a moment at the new information. He’s quiet for a moment, disbelieving as he stares at Patton, half a scoff on his lips which dies when he zeroes in on what Virgil can only assume Patton’s unsteady heartbeat and decides that No, Patton is not lying about having nearly completely taken out a member of Shadow Force by himself.

“The kitten has claws!” He says towering over their captive hostage, so that his shadow swamps him. “I thought you were a card mage?”

“I am,” Patton says nervously, twisting his hands in their bindings like he was reaching for a card that isn’t there.

Remus is reassessing Patton again: comparing his previous assumptions of him with the new information and coming to conclusions that probably lean more towards the side of things that Virgil doesn’t actually want to know about. It was likely that Remus had been there when Malice and Envy had apparently dragged themselves back to the guildhall and had heard that version of events-- which Virgil seriously doubted involved Malice admitting he’d been bested by a handful of tarot cards and a guy in cat socks.

"No wonder he took offense to your face," Remus says. "I’m almost impressed."

Virgil leans back against the table chewing thoughtfully on his second muffin. "I wish I could have seen it."

"Uhm," Patton stutters. "Aren't you guys friends?"

The bite of muffin lodges in Virgil's throat, rock hard and sharp and Virgil doesn’t need to breathe but he finds himself doubled over hacking it back up at the same time as Remus laughs.

"I have dreams about shoving Malice's cocky ass face into a wood chipper," Remus says grandly. "I want to be there when that asshole dies just so I can kick his corpse around like a soccer ball until his limbs pop off and his brains are splattered across the whole place and his skull caves in!"

Patton jerks back at the tone and the imagery, but honestly that's pretty tame for Remus. Virgil's heard a lot of worse things spewing from Remus's mouth post a fight with Malice specifically. Virgil is kinda surprised that Patton hadn’t realized that the name wasn’t a joke; Malice didn’t exactly get his name from his benevolent acts of goodwill. 

"He controls metal," Virgil explains, raspily. "And he's an asshole. So when they fight, Malice's first move is to always rip out all of Remus's piercings in one go."

Virgil had tried convincing Remus to get rid of his piercings after that first time he’d been on the floor bleeding from sixteen locations, but Remus was a glutton for danger and the second time Malice did it Remus gave him sixteen piercings on the spot and then stood over Malice’s writhing body and spat, “There now we’re matchies, Mal!” He probably would have done worse, but the guildmaster had stepped in and called Remus back like he was a misbehaving dog that had bitten a child at the playground.

"Why would anyone do that?!" Patton yelps. "That's so….horrible!"

Virgil and Remus chorus together, "It's Chimera Tongue."

"A guild is supposed to be your family. Your friends! A safe place that you can always come back to without worrying about anything! The people in your guild are supposed to be closer than anyone else--"

“Are you crying?” Remus asks, squinting at him in confusion.

Patton sniffles, looking like he would wipe his eyes if it weren’t for his wrists being held behind his back. Virgil squeezes his muffin in his hand, feeling the absurd need to make him stop because it's not even that bad! Surely Star Burst is at least a little like this, right?

“A guild is supposed to be your family,” Patton says again. “You’re supposed to be able to rely on them!”

“You rely on my brother?” 

The sharpness of Remus’s tone is like putting a blade to Patton’s throat, and Remus’s grin is about as reassuring as a cliff drop into an open grave. 

“Yes-- No-- Wait!” Patton curls up on himself. “That’s different! He can rely on me! But I’m not-- I am--”

“You’re not what? One of Roman’s bitchboys?”

Virgil makes a sharp noise. “Remus. Knock it off. He’s already been Rule Three-d today.”

“No, I want to know what it is that this bitch thinks makes my brother so great!” Remus swishes back around to Patton. “He can rely on you, but you can’t rely on him? That’s bullshit. That’s not a “family”. That’s not even a fucking friend! That sounds like he takes advantage of you and you let him because your dumb ass thinks that’s better than going home and letting daddy take advantage of you instead!”

“Remus!”

Remus ignores him, staring down Patton. There’s a long tense moment where neither Remus nor Patton says a thing and Virgil thinks that maybe he doesn’t need to worry about the poison in his chest because the tension in the room was going to explode him instead. 

The tattoo on Remus’s neck rolls slightly as Remus swallows and Virgil wonders if he’s the only one smelling bleach all of the sudden, if he’s the only one remembering the taste of wine infused promises all of a sudden, if he’s the only one remembering “There’s nothing different about me with a collar and me without one!” all of a sudden.

“And while we’re on the topic,” Remus adds hard and biting. “You’ve gotta have some pretty big balls to go around assuming that either of us are part of this fucking guild of our own fucking free will. Family, my fucking ass-- If I ever got the chance to burn this place to the ground with everyone inside it, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Patton’s face looks like Remus shoved a whole lemon in his mouth, the cuts on his cheek sluggishly reopening with the puckered expression. His wide blue eyes latch onto Remus’s collar bone as if he would see the same orange handprint on Remus’s chest as Virgil had inside him.

Remus offers him a light sneer when it becomes clear that Patton would not be responding. “I’m sure by the time you’re done thinking about all that, Roman will be here to save your ass anyway.”

“He’s not coming for me.”

Remus rolls his eyes. “Did Malice and Envy leave him alive?”

“...uhm. Yes, I think?”

Remus’s face does a silly little thing where he tries not to break Rule 2 before it's even been lunch time. “Then he’s coming for you. Mazel tov, asshole.”

The silence burns for a moment, making Virgil jittery from nerves and unused adrenaline and stubborn relief he should not be having. The urge to do something, say something is coursing through his limbs, but all he can manage to do is wring the empty plastic bottle of the energy drink between his hands and wish that the muffin he’d eaten had been a little less sweet.

Roman was alive. Probably. Virgil isn’t sure why that makes him… feel things. He’s not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing and Remus’s expression is so complex Virgil doesn’t think he knows how to feel about it either. 

How to feel about Roman choosing Patton over him, about Roman leaving him behind twice now, about how likely it is that Roman would do it a third time if Remus doesn’t win their next fight and get the chance to walk away first.

But if Roman was able to break from Virgil’s Waterlock and Patton managed to land several devastating hits on Malice, what was that chance that they didn’t have some other trick up their sleeves that would be enough to tip the scales against Remus? 

Virgil can't help but imagine how pissed off both Malice and Envy must be about all this, too. He’s doubly grateful, suddenly, that he’d gone to Greed instead of them to find Remus’s whereabouts; he doesn’t think Malice or Envy had ever been beaten by anyone other than other Shadow Force members but he gets the distinct feeling that they were sore losers and Virgil’s face would have been a great stress reliever.

The untouchables, being nearly decimated by a handful of idiots. It was one thing for Virgil to come back so dense with mud that he was practically a walking pottery attempt; it was something else entirely to make Guildmaster Clay have to trust Remus with not breaking something.

The dozens of grunts made sense now. They must have been the best assurance the Guildmaster had that Patton wouldn’t get too roughed up if Remus decided to attempt to sabotage the whole plan. They certainly wouldn’t have actually done any damage to Remus but they probably could have slowed him down enough to allow time for another member of Shadow Force, regardless of how injured, to get there.

Actually with Pride being busy with whatever the next phase of the scheme Clay's working on is, Malice in the infirmary, and Envy off cooling off, really only Greed and Remus remain of the elite tier of Shadow Force--

Oh.

"Virgil," Remus says, because even out of the corner of his eyes he can recognize certain body languages and Virgil had not been fast enough hiding it. "No."

"What?" Virgil lies. "I wasn't thinking about anything!"

"Dumbass, I can hear your heartbeat," Remus snarls. "Read my fucking lips before put a rebar in you myself: No."

"When are we gonna get another chance like this?!"

"Your death wish stopped being cute twenty seconds ago," Remus says. "Drop. It."

"Your resignation stopped being cute four months ago," Virgil shoots back. "When are you gonna be done throwing your pity party and wake the fuck up and do something about all this?"  Virgil motions to Patton, "You said it yourself! We need another type of magic, and wow! Look! A card mage, the most versatile magic type that you can get--"

"Shut up.”

“--and he even took out Malice by himself! He’s plenty capable. Part of the strongest team of wizards at Star Burst!"

"Do you know what the number one killer of card mages is?" Remus asks. "Their flimsy little bodies! Look at him! It would barely take anything at all to break his scrawny little neck!"

And yeah, okay, honestly, Virgil can agree. Especially with him already so beat up from Malice, he's barely more than a cheap counterfeit version of his own pictures and certainly not something that Virgil thinks would stand a decent chance against Greed or Pride. Not to mention the semi obvious lack of magic cards in their vicinity, although if Virgil can go collect the deck of cards from wherever they ended up, Patton probably had something that could heal himself! Probably!

"He's got plot armor!" Virgil says. "Scheme armor! They can't hurt him!"

Remus stares at him. Virgil thinks that's his you're-actually-an-idiot look. "Just because Clay doesn't want him fucking dead doesn't mean that Clay can't make his life miserable. He's fucking creative like that."

Remus’s eyes flick towards Virgil's collarbone, and even though everyone in the room is aware of it, Virgil feels the urge to make sure it's not visible. He scowls and pulls on the collar of his poncho. 

“And also Clay gave me the specific order to make sure he stays tied up,” Remus yawns, stretching an arm out and then thumping Virgil on his head, in the way that would probably give most other people a concussion but merely sends ripples through Virgil's body.

"Stop," Remus advises in all the sage wisdom of someone who absolutely needs to get the shit kicked out of him in order to feel something again.

"Fuck you," Virgil says.

"If you're a good boy I'll let you suck me off later."

"You are actually the worst."

"What, you'll do it for Janus Ekans but not for me?"

"Leave him out of this!" Virgil snaps, shoving Remus’s arm off his head. "I'm Rule Three-ing Janus Ekans too!"

Remus squints. "The concept of him or just his name? I can't make fun of your crush if I can't bring up the topic."

"Y-you know Janus?" Patton stutters out and then immediately looks like he wishes he hadn't when Remus and Virgil both turn towards him. He wilts back like he can steal the words right back out of the air if he looks guilty enough. 

Unfortunately, Remus is already clinging to them with his iron grip, a smile so wide it's nearly threatening as he stares down at the card mage. For all his posturing about wanting it to be silent, Remus laughs pretty loudly at Patton’s question and Virgil mostly wants to turn into a puddle and seep into the foundation and never be heard from again.

With one hand he drags Patton into a standing position and sinks his arm around his neck, ignoring the way that the smaller boy pales and panics and probably thinks that Remus is about to enact some horrible physical punishment on him. Remus however points Patton in the right direction and with a nightmarish flourish he presents Virgil in all his half boiled glory.

"Virgil heard him talk once and nearly evaporated!"

"Will you let it go!" Virgil hisses tugging on the drawstrings of his hood.

Patton, despite the mortal terror he must be feeling, lets out a shaky smile, and a partial laugh. His freckles seem to shimmer when he does, as if he finds this utterly humiliating revelation to be amusing. 

"It was one time!" Virgil says. 

"And it wasn't enough!" Remus croons. "He dreams of golden hair glistening with raindrops, hands brushing when they both reach for the same umbrella, then he leans down and whispers--"

"Stop making it weird!"

"That's a weird thing to hope he says in your ear."

"He likes the rain," Virgil says hopelessly without looking at either of them, because they can't possibly understand what it's like to see someone who doesn’t wish for the sun that Virgil will never be able to give them.

Patton bites the inside of his lip thoughtfully. “It makes sense,” he says. “Janus’s magic is stronger in the rain. If you guys teamed up, you could probably do some really cool things.”

“Well it's not happening!” Virgil says quickly. “He doesn’t even know I exist and I’d like to keep it that way because I tend to ruin everyone’s lives when I enter them!”

“Hey!” Patton snaps out before even Remus can say anything, sway on his feet. “You can’t talk bad about my friend! I’ll fight you!”

Remus frowns, “What, Janus?”

“No! Virgil!” Patton says. “Virgil’s my friend! No one talks bad about my friends! Not even themselves!” 

There’s something about the way that he says it-- the certainty and the boldness-- that makes Virgil’s insides churn hard with guilt. Remus’s face goes blank for a long moment, clear of any emotion that Virgil can read and that’s nearly more terrifying than the idea of facing off one-on-one with Guildmaster Clay.

“The same type of friend who can rely on you but whom you can’t rely on?” Remus asks. “Virgil ain’t interested in that vulcanshit.”

“I can speak for myself actually,” Virgil cuts in blandly, and then he turns to Patton before he can witness the clear skepticism on Remus’s face. Patton has this light in his eyes, soft and gentle that reminds Virgil of how Patton’s knee jerk reaction to someone breaking into his house was to offer them food. Virgil steels himself regardless and shoves the guilty feeling away.

 “But he is right. Aside from the part where we are literally on the opposite sides of the law here, and if we get our way, you’re going to be married off and never see us again and that I have almost drowned you like three times--”

“--only two,” Patton says.

“--It’s still bad,” Virgil finishes lamely. “You can’t trust me, I mean. I don’t trust me. If you aren’t going to value yourself as a person worthy of self preservation enough to not try to make friends with someone who very obviously would follow through with an order to kill you, then what the fuck am I supposed to do? Constantly, be on the lookout for you? I can’t do that. I physically cannot do that. My surface tension would get so strong I would explode; It’s a wonder I haven’t already--”

“Virge,” Remus says.

“--If we are going to be friends, you have to rely on me,” Virgil sums up. “You have to trust me as much as you want me to trust you.”

“Oh isn’t that adorable!” A voice sings from the front of the room, and both Virgil and Remus freeze where they are. Neither of them have to turn to know who it is: Remus because he’s unwillingly cataloged the heartbeat, breathing pattern, and gait of every member of the Shadow Force, and Virgil because Envy when she’s really pissed off has enough power to take away his magic and if that happens he’s pretty sure he’ll lose his actual consciousness forever.

((There was a wind mage not too long ago, made completely of air, who dated Envy and broke it off after the seventh red flag got waved in the other girl’s face. She didn’t get more than three steps away before Envy was sucking the very life force out of her and vengefully watched as the mage dissipated into nothing in the middle of the mess hall for everyone to see. The only thing that had been left of her was a palm sized opal crystal, and even that Envy had smashed to the floor and stomped on the shards until the last of the magic had dissipated.

…Virgil had spent the next seven hours staring at the same spot waiting, wishing, hoping that the breeze would tighten and weave back into being, before Remus had hauled him back to their room.))

Remus, on instinct, shoves Patton into Virgil’s arms and then stands in front of them both blocking Envy’s view of them, and growling very animalistically. Patton must have recognized her voice too, because he goes extremely quiet, fingers twisting in his bonds to get a card that isn’t there and Virgil gets about a dozen internal alarms ringing in his head about this whole thing.

“Take a hike, bitch,” Remus snarls.

“Why are you always so mean to me, Gluttony?” Envy whines, with all the childish charm of a girl who practiced setting her dolls on fire at age four. 

“The fuck did you just call me?!” Remus says green light flickering under his feet as a clear warning.

Virgil dares to peek around Remus’s broad form to glance at Envy. She’s always been petite; making up for her height with sheer ruthlessness and disdain for anyone with a flashy power and platform boots. She still had to look up to meet Remus’s gaze but she did it with the smugness of someone who had several tricks up their sleeve and liked to make babies cry. For someone who should have been in the infirmary she was remarkably present down here, bandages wrapped around her arms and her leg and a patch on her cheek that barely hid the discolored bruises and burns. 

In her hands is a large sparkling pink crystal, like a jagged cut of rose quartz nearly the size of new lacrima and practically glowing with energy. She grins in a way that does not bode well.

“Glut-ton-y,” Envy repeats, slower. “I mean, that’s the name you’re going to have soon, right? Might as well get used to being called it now. See, it fits the theme! Pride, Envy, Greed, Malice-- Gluttony!”

“Call me it again and I will make what happened to Malice look like a fucking dream,” Remus says. 

Envy sticks her tongue out at him. “You’re so lame. Is this because of Virgil? You know you can do better than him. All he does is hold you back and make you feel guilty about having fun.”

Virgil feels himself boil slightly, but it's nothing compared to how Remus’s green circle explodes from under him and metal wraps around his limbs like armor, as sleek and unbreakable as a sword. His tail curls to the side, and Virgil distantly recognizes its hooking his ankle as if to make sure he doesn’t move into danger.

“Oh,” Patton breathes shakily into Virgil’s side suddenly.

“Oh, come on,” Envy says. “You know I’m right! If it weren’t for him hovering around you wouldn’t have a problem with the contract! In a year or two once you stop making everything so difficult for yourself, Greed would even hand it over and let you rip it up yourself!”

“You’re under the mistaken understanding that my contract stops me from killing you right here,” Remus says. 

“Look, just because the two of you are fucking on the weekends--” 

Remus swings his arm and a rebar of galvanized steel sweeps barely to the left of her face, shaving off three inches of her hair on that side of her face. She stumbles back, hand coming up to tap her cheek and coming away with a long thin line of blood across her cheek bone.

“You’re out of warnings,” Remus growls. “Get lost Or I send you to join Malice in morphine hell.”

She snorts in disbelief, swaying on her feet and then she smiles again and zeroes in on Virgil, despite Remus very obviously stepping in front again. “Hey, Virgie! Patty! It’s been so long! Do you guys know what this is?”

She holds up the crystal, letting it shimmer in the low light, like something valuable, like something irreplaceable, like something fragile and breakable. For a moment Virgil is thinking about it; about his quick water whip slicing under Remus’s arm, clearing him entirely and knocking that gem fifteen feet beyond all of them, shattering it against the concrete floors and letting the sound ring out infinitely in all the cellars. 

He could picture it: the magic housed in the crystal exploding apart wafting up into the air like colored smoke before it disappears entirely already heading back to the person it came from. Suddenly, all Virgil can remember is Logan saying “...a trap was set up by what I believe is a null-magic user” and “Thomas is okay. For now.” 

Suddenly Virgil has a very bad feeling about Envy being down here.

“This is all the magic power of Thomas Sanders!” Envy says proudly, and Patton’s breath hitches. “I think this is the biggest one I’ve ever collected! Makes sense since that old man couldn’t even when I was done! I probably could have finished him off entirely if the Guildmaster hadn’t stopped me.” 

She shifts it between her hands. “Mal and I were talking, and, you know, the guildmaster went to a lot of trouble to make a plan that would get Thomas out of the way like this! If it breaks, he’ll probably kill the person who’s annoyed him the most recently…Isn’t that you, Virge? He was real pissed that you messed up as bad as you did. Not only did you set his schedule off, but you made him send Mal and me, and now Mal is in recovery so he can’t do the next part of the plan and my nails have been ruined…The guildmaster will probably be mad enough to just…. Poof you out of existence without me needing to do anything!”

She smiles with absolutely no friendliness in it. “Hey, hey, Virgil! You know what would be really funny? Catch!”

And then she tosses that crystal over her own fucking shoulder towards the ground.

[Next Chapter]

#Virgil is a water mage #Fairy tail crossover #Remus is not having a good time #But then again #neither is Patton #nor Virgil #Everyone probably could do with some therapy #dragon slayer Remus #Card Mage Virgil #sanders sides #virgil sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #Remus and Virgil are best friends

[mothmxwhump]

Bastet

Tw: deaf whumpee, reference to mobility aides being destroyed, beating, nonhuman whumpee, lab/medical whump, systemic inequalities, homeless whumpee, trans male whumpee, gore, noncon stripping and bathing (nonsexual), magic whump, noncon body mod, noncon surgery, surgery without anesthesia

A/N: when Bastet/Alexi’s speech is italicized, it’s to indicate him speaking verbally, rather than in sign language

Alexis huffs as the wind is knocked out of him. The guard standing above him delivers a few more swift kicks to his stomach. Their boss, a redhead wearing mage’s robes and a sharp grin, suddenly holds up his hand to call them off.

“Ready to talk, kitty?” He purrs, and Lexi only snarls, ears flat on his head. His hearing aids were smashed up in the proceeding struggle. “Hm. I see, then.”

“I’m deaf, ya bloody idiot! I can’t hear you after your cronies broke my aids, asshole--”

The man actually laughs. “Ah, that’s the issue?” he asked, signing along with his words.

Lexi growls. “S’Not fucking funny.”

“Guards, release his arms.” the man commands. “Now, tell me, love, was this all your own work, or is there a little group of pathetic thieves like you running around?”

Lexi frowns. Something is wrong now, his hands seem to move of their own accord. “Solo job. Might wanna upgrade your security.”

“I see. What were you after?”

“Anything. I--I was just looking to get stuff to sell, I didn’t even know this was a lab or anything, I swear--- And what did you do to me?”

“Truth spell. Now, why not go for an easier target?”

“Houses with high security have better stuff. People don’t get tons of guards if there’s not something they want to protect.”

“Hm. And… How much have you seen?”

Lexi flinches. Not a good sign. “Not much, I swear. I only saw some of the magic stuff, and the cells. I don’t know anything else, I couldn’t rat you out for this if I wanted to!”

“I’ll give you a choice, darling. Either I press charges for the burglary of a nobleman… or you can stay here and… assist me with my experiments.”

Lexi stares at him. “You’re offering me a job?”

“No. I’m offering you an opportunity to avoid jail.”

Lexi nods. He’d heard horror stories about prison. And prison was the best scenario. He could be sold as a slave or pet, or even killed. “I… I’ll do whatever you want. I won’t tell anyone.”

The man nods. “Good. My name is Virgil, but you’ll call me Master. You’ll get started tomorrow morning.”

Lexi was taken to a tiny cell in the labyrinth of Virgil’s lab, had one hand cuffed to the side of his flimsy cot and given a tiny bit of chicken and plain rice to eat. If he’s honest, the living situation is better than his home, a small structure of discarded wood, boxes, and plastic tarp in tiny elven territory. Food’s scarce there, he rarely gets meat and when he does, it was something he’d killed himself. His bed is an old rug and he rarely avoided getting soaked in a rainstorm. Really, the cell was luxury in comparison.

Morning came far too soon, he decides as he’s dragged by his hair out of the small room and into a bathroom. The guard who was holding him strips him of his clothes and shoves him under icey-cold water from the shower. Lexi grunts in pain and shock, his head banging against the temperature knob.

The woman pays him no mind, wetting his hair and roughly scrubbing shampoo in. After his hair and ears are cleaned to her satisfaction, she turns up the water pressure to help in scrubbing his skin clean.

When she finally determines he’s clean enough, she shoves a white tee-shirt and gray shorts into his hands. Once he’s dressed, his hands are cuffed again and he’s led to what looks like an operating room.

…

“Hm. What was your name again?” Virgil’s question catches him off guard.

“Lexi.” He manages. “…How exactly am I helping you…?”

“Lay down on the table. Stay still and this’ll be quick and easy.”

“Wh-“

“Get on the table.”

There’s a dangerous look in Virgil’s eyes. Lexi decides to do as he’s told. Straps are quickly placed across Lexi’s arms, legs, and chest, making it near impossible to move.

Virgil wheels over a stool and tray, various artifacts scattered amongst his surgical tools.

“I’d recommend against squirming, Lexi.” Virgil’s expression is cold. “Now… Lexi just won’t do for a name. Hm… no, it’s far to human. How about Bastet?”

Lexi stares at him, unable to respond with more than an unintelligible noise of discontent.

“Yes, that will do nicely. Bastet.”

Lexi can’t help the tears that spring to his eyes.

“Now, I’m not going to waste anestesia on you, so don’t move. If you make me screw this up, I’ll just have to start over again. If you survive, that is.” He takes out a needle, though, filling it with a strange fluid and injecting it into Lexi’s neck.

Lexi whimpers, eyes wide as Virgil picks up a tool to measure him with. He gently pulls up the shirt Lexi’s wearing, muttering to himself. Lexi squirms at that, not wanting Virgil to see his bare chest.

“I said to hold still.” Virgil glares at him. He takes a quick measurement of the area above Lexi’s heart, and then spins around on his stool, taking a note of it in a little lab journal.

When he moves back, he’s holding a scalpel. The tip presses down on Lexi’s chest and he whines, trying not to move and cut himself even more.

Virgil huffs at that and grabs a roll of duct tape, smoothing a piece over his victim’s lips.

“Mmph!” Lexi protests, to no avail. Virgil’s attention is already back to making the incision on Lexi’s chest, pressing the scalpel deep and cutting a line.

Lexi screams at that, the pain mingling with the wrongness of the cold laboratory air on his insides. He thrashes impulsively, and Virgil presses a hand on his shoulders to stop him.

Finally, the cut seems deep enough to satisfy Virgil, and he wheels away, returning again with the caliper and a softly glowing gold gemstone. Lexi sobs, the pain and chill of the instrument pressing against his heart overwhelming him. He should be passed out by now, he’s fairly certain of that, but whatever Virgil pumped into his veins seems to be keeping him painfully aware.

Virgil jots that measurement down too, then grabs what looks like a power tool. A new wave of panic seizes Lexi, but Virgil only chuckles and uses it to trim down the gemstone.

Then, he picks the scalpel back up. Slowly, agonizingly, he uses the device to cut through the arteries and veins and muscle keeping Lexi’s heart in his body. There’s a horrible moment where Lexi’s staring at his own organ, his heart, clutched in Virgil’s hands. He screams louder than ever before, feeling the blood gush and the empty cavity where the essential organ is meant to be. Virgil presses the cold stone into the spot, and says something Lexi’s too panicked to decipher.

Finally, mercifully, he passes out, going limp in his restraints.

#whump #whump writing #pet whump #lab whump #tw gore #gore cw #tw surgery #tw noncon surgery #tw abuse #catboy whumpee #Bastet #Virgil

[magesethan]

fey touched

self para

"i do not want to hear it, naga!"

the mage was definitely in quite the mood, which was a rare sight for sethan. he was normally seen as pretty calm and more of a mother hen for everyone else. not really being annoyed or mad. but sethan was human, and after that training excersise? he was definitely annoyed. he had never felt weaker...never felt more useless than he had been. sethan had been down for the count on the first attack the sea serpent had done. he had barely hit the water before he was down. not exactly the most optimistic of showings.

sethan only had gotten to 'fight' when he had been brought back by virgil, and did the one spell he could do when the creature had gone underwater. once again...he was useless. just floating nearby and hoping someone had a plan. sethan had a few conversations at the party where he admitted to that being his fear, and some people told him that wouldn't be the case. that he just needed to have confidence in himself. well...this was definitely one hell of a set back.

sethan was so lost in his thoughts as he stayed relaxing into the patch of flowers that he was laying in for a few hours that he didn't even notice just how far into the forest he truly was. that he was in fey territory. their magic was practically tangible here, and sethan couldn't help but feel foolish for not being able to sense it before. his mother is the goddess of witchcraft, necromancy, and magic for goodness sake.

"out of our home!" sethan yelped in surprise as he felt a sharp nip to his hand. he stumbles up and just now notices the few annoyed looking feys buzzing around. "what is my luck recently?" sethan mumbled to himself. he didn't hesitate to begin rushing away when they came charging at him, yelling apology after apology as he stumbled back to camp, not sure if the fey had even stopped trailing after him yet. but as he made his way back? sethan noticed that he felt different. the "hours", which turned out to actually be a full on day, had caused a piece of the feywild to come with him.

SETHAN HAS GAINED FEY TOUCHED

#self para

[thecrowslullaby]

History bodyguard prinxiety

This is all I had in mind for this prompt.

I hope I did the series justice

Pairing: prinxiety (platonic or romantic)

Warnings: Swearing, poisoning (they get better)

Wordcount: 1,451

‘You cannot escape your destiny’ Janus’ booming voice still ringed in his ears as he hugged his knees to his chest. It did little to help him calm his nerves.

‘You’re wrong.’ The dragon laughed at his answer.

‘That’s rather unlikely. I have been alive for centuries. I know better than to question one's fate.’

‘And what if I don’t?’

‘If you won’t what?’

‘Accept my destiny. What if I question it?’

'Refuse your destiny?' The dragon laughed, his voice sending shivers through Virgil’s limbs.‘If only it were that easy to get rid of it, young warlock.’

Virgil's tightened his grip on the torch.

'And what do you know? Why would I care what you think?'

Janus smiled. That sly insufferable smile of his. As if he was dealing with a petulant child.

'Would you really visit me if you didn't care for my wisdom?'

“You can’t die,” Virgil whispered more to himself than Roman as he pushed the prince locks of his sweaty forehead. The young man was burning up. “You’re my destiny, we’ll figure it out." He said, gently stroking Roman's head as he waited for the water to boil. "Janus is too annoying to be wrong about this.”

This shouldn’t have happened. Virgil was supposed to guard Roman. He was supposed to be prepared for an ambush. He had become far too confident in his skills and it was coming back to bite him in the ass.

A rogue sorcerer surprised them on their trip. With the young mage and prince focused on the attacker neither of them spotted his familiar. The small creature creaking at them from the behind and sunk its teeth into Roman’s neck. The prince managed to slay the small beast but it was too late by then, the damage had been done.

The sorcerer didn’t stay for long, his mission accomplished he disappeared into the forest, leaving Virgil alone with the wounded man.

The young sorcerer managed to drag his friend into a nearby cave, before setting out to find some herbs to cure him, suddenly very thankful for all the times Logan has sent him out to fetch ingredients for him.

‘There is a quiet power to healing’ The man insisted ‘You’ll need to learn far more than combat to protect the prince.’

‘It’s going to take me years to learn all of this’ Virgil whined as he flipped through the medical books’

‘Better start early then’ Logan said with a smirk.

Virgil wished he had as much faith in his healing abilities as Logan did.

But most of all he wished Logan was here. He would have known what to do, he would be here to fix the medicine and calm Virgil down. But it was only him racing against the clock, the only sound filling the air were Roman’s chattering teeth mixing with the soft crackling of the fire.Virgil hastily threw the herbs into the boiling pot.

The young mage raised his hand over the small pot, eyes glowing momentary purple as he strengthened the potion with magic. This was his advantage over Logan while making potions, his magic was stronger. He only hoped it would be enough to cure Roman.

Virgil filled a traveling cup with the warm fluid, cooling it down with his magic before slipping his hand under the prince's head.

“Please don’t choke on me” he muttered to himself as he tipped the cup, trying to get the man to drink. The prince managed to take a few gulps and Virgil prayed it would be enough.

He set the cup aside, shrugging his jacket off and laying it over Roman. It did nothing to stop the prince shivering but it calmed the warlock’s mind a little.There was nothing more he could do but rest and hope the potion worked.

********

Roman’s head hurt as if he’d been out hit with a mace over the head which, with Remus as his father’s ward, wasn’t exactly an uncommon experience. Did they have a match again? His head felt far too heavy to remember anything. Sluggishly he opened his eyes lids to look around

He found himself staring at and unfamiliar cave ceiling. Memories flooding into his brain. They were patrolling yesterday and were ambushed. Something bit him before Virgil-

Roman shot up, the sudden movement sending a sharp pain through his head. The prince hissed, rubbing his temples and trying to gain focus again.

Virgil sleeping with his back pressed against the cave wall. Roman let out a sigh of relief at the sight of him. He concluded Virgil fended off the sorcerer all on his own, but then again it hardly was a surprise to him. His friend had magic.

He wasn’t supposed to know that, but the mage wasn’t very good at hiding their abilities. Roman figured it out a few weeks ago, when it was just the two of them sent o a mission.

He caught Virgil using magic in a fight with the corner of his eye. At first he thought he was going crazy. Who in their right mind would use magic in Camelot?

Virgil would.

And the more Roman paid attention the more he noticed. How fast the water boiled, how quickly he cleaned Roman’s armor, how he managed to gather dry wood even after the rain.

It hit him then. How easily Virgil could kill him if he wanted too.

Roman was furious. Terrified. Sorcerers were evil, wicked and cruel and Virgil was one of them.

He needed to keep Camelot save. He needed to tell his father.

Once they returned to the castle Roman strode up to the throne room, burst the door open. He stood there, in front of the king, ready to doom the mage but the words died in his throat.

Sorceresses were evil wicked and Virgil was one of them. But he wasn't any of that. Virgil was a good man.

Why would he cook Roman a warm meal? Clean his armor? Save the prince? Put his life on the line at the smallest of dangers that hung over Camelot?

No. Virgil wanted to keep Camelot safe. And by extension that meant protecting Roman. So the prince did the only logical thing, aid Virgil in hiding his magic from the king.

It wasn’t easy. How his father hadn’t figured it out yet was beyond him. The need to constantly come up with excuses every time Virgil almost gave himself out was exhausting. He hated pretending he was a moron, but he couldn’t tell his father.

He caught all the scared glances Virgil shot his way any time Roman made an excuse to protect his secret, all the while trying not to shift suspicion on any innocent citizens.

He began to slowly understand why Virgil never told him. If word of his abilities got Roman's father….. Well he he feared he wouldn't be seeing either Virgil or the physician ever again.

Roman couldn’t imagine how terrifying it must be. To live with and befriend a man who might very well order your execution any day.

Virgil must be one of the bravest men Roman ever encountered. One of the bravest and certainly the dumbest one.

The mage blinked awake, his eyes hazily scanning for Roman. He gave him a sleepy smile and the prince felt his heart swell.

“You’re awake.” And Roman wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell him he knew. He knew Virgil had magic and he would never tell anyone, but just like with his father the words died in his throat.

What if he never saw Virgil again? What if the mage decided it was far too risky if Roman knew and leave Camelot? Leave Roman? He didn’t know why Virgil stayed. What Virgil needed to protect so desperately that he continuously put his life in danger. How could he be sure he wouldn’t leave?

“Roman?”

“Well I certainly am” He bit back. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to wake up?”

“A few minutes?” Asked sleepily.

“A few minutes too long. Now get your lazy ass up, Virgil, we have a long way ahead of us to Camelot. I want to be home before sundown. Father is throwing a feast tonight.”

He caught the mage rolling his eyes, as he stood up.

"Yeah, let's go home"

He wanted nothing more than to tell Virgil he knew. He knew and he appreciated him far more than the mage could ever imagine.

But Virgil was a mage. And a mage had no place in Camelot. So if it'll mean Virgil would get to call the case home Roman could play the clueless moron a little longer.

#prinxiety #cawtent #ts virgil #ts roman #hey look #I included both Jan and Logan and there is no lociet #be proud of me /lh

[sidespart]

Mundane Mysticism

Fake fic meme

platonic or pre relationship LAMP + platonic (or romantic tbh) Demus, Fantasy AU, Circle of Magic (Tamora Pierce) AU

Universe primer for anyone who has not read the books:

Universe where some people are born with magic, with varying degrees of power. Some people get academic magic, where the magic comes from the person, and some get ambient magic, where the person can 'tap into' the magic of something in their surroundings, normally through performing a craft (eg cloth weaving, smithing etc).

Academic magic is much easier to see and children with magic are normally detected early and trained in how to control their powers. They can choose to study to be mages at universities/temples. it is more common and, in general, more powerful than ambient magic. Ambient magic is much harder to spot and can be harder to control, as practitioners are constantly bombarded by magical energy from their surroundings. it can 'get away' from the user and cause problems if they don't learn to control it. Normally taught via apprenticeship by another mage with the same craft.

Actual Story:

Roman (dancing magic), Logan (water magic) and Virgil (weather magic) are all kids with ambient magic who arn't discovered until they're much older (13+). None of them were aware they had magic and had just resigned themselves to being 'weird'.

inevitable tragic backstories:

Roman's family are nuovo-riche and have always been resentful of mages, who they think look down on normal people. They have a 'children should be seen and not heard' attitude and are basically waiting for Roman to be old enough to marry a suitable girl/ take over part of the family business before they will be interested in him. He is absolutely forbidden from singing and dancing/generally making a nuscience of himself, but he can't help but feel he gets good luck for the day whenever he's able to sneak off and dance...

Logan is a street kid with a reputation for always knowing which water pumps are working and safe to drink from. This is enough for one of the local gangs to take him in even though he's not strong and has bad eyesight, although he can see clearly when he looks at reflections in water. His whole gang end up being rounded up and arrested after robbing the wrong rich guys house, but Logan manages to escape through the sewers, ending up alone on the wrong side of the city....

Virgil is a noble and hears voices. His family care about him but are also terrified of anyone finding out that their heir is 'mad' so he is locked up in his room for most of his life. He was tested for magic as a little kid but they didn't find anything, they don't realise he's hearing voices on the wind. When Virgil was little he got incredibly angry with one of the servants, for reasons he now can't even remember, and said he hoped she would die. That evening, she was killed in a freak storm whilst walking home. Even though Virgil didn't know he had weather magic at the time, he still blamed himself and is absolutely terrified of storms as a result...

All three of them get found and rescued by Janus, an academic mage who specialises in 'finding hidden things' amongst other seer related skills, and brought to a temple to be trained. None of them can fit in with the other children (a mix of academic magic users and non magic kids who are training as adepts) so they're moved out of the dormitories and into a cottage on the temple grounds. Janus and Remus (a plant mage who is always covered in dirt) are the adults living there who become their main teachers.

Janus and Remus are trying their best but like....there is a REASON they haven't taken on apprentices before, let alone kids with as many issues as these three. And the kids do not get along. at all. Roman's too loud, Virgil's too quiet, Logan doesn't trust anyone. Things in the cottage are ~tense~

Patton is another kid adept in training who is being raised at the temple. Whilst there, it's discovered that he also has ambient magic - in cooking. This is a much more common, mundane form of magic than the overpowered, rare magics that the other three have. But it does mean he gets extra 'lessons' in the temple kitchens at odd hours, and ends up meeting and bonding with the other three separately.

Roman's terrified of messing up in front of adults and acts loud and obnoxious in his efforts to be 'perfect' (or at least better than the other two) (even though he can't sit still and meditate AT ALL and he knows that drives Janus crazy and he's totally going to kick him out and send him back home to his parents and and and- ) but Patton is just another kid, and Roman can sneak off at lunch break to meet him and just play and dance silly jigs without worrying about it being perfect. And Patton will always clap and whoop and reward him with home made toffees (his parents never allowed sweets) which give him this like. confident feeling he's never had before.

Logan meets Patton whilst trying to steal extra food at night. Logan doesn't trust adults At All and finds all the rules and regs of temple life baffling, but Patton makes sense to him - Logan needs extra food and Patton needs protection from bullies in his dorm. It's a good trade, even if Logan gets in trouble for 'accidentally' soaking some snooty adepts on their way back from the library. Patton gives Logan biscuits which never go stale, even if he hoards them in his room for weeks, and starts teaching him to read in exchange for stories of life outside the temple. He also accidently gets Logan addicted to jam.

Virgil absolutely hates leaving his room but R&J give him one chore which forces him to go outside: collecting breakfast from the kitchens in the morning. Patton notices Virgil looks terrified of entering the busy kitchen, so he starts meeting him outside with a basket of food. Eventually Vigril's starts coming earlier and earlier so he can stand and chat with Patton for longer before he goes back. he doesn't really get WHY Patton likes him but the morning conversations quickly become the highlight of the day. Patton brews him his own bled of tea which gives him this feeling of calm, even during a storm.

ANYWAY. Eventually SOMETHING happens which puts Patton in danger (i'm thinking....Pirates? Fire in the Kitchen? Bears? idk) The other three have to work together to rescue him and end up finally bonding as a result. After that they start hanging out as a four whenever they can. At some point Janus starts inviting Patton along to their group teaching sessions since he's a good influence on the other three and then he starts staying for breakfast/ lunch / dinner until one day Janus looks at Remus and is all "...do we have a fourth child living in this cottage?" And Remus just sighs at him like. Honey. You're meant to be this all powerful seer how did you not notice we essentially adopted this kid three seconds after he tasting that soup he made. And Janus grumbles but like. He loves these kids he wants them to be happy and Patton is TECHNICALY in need of a teacher too, even if he's got way more control of his powers having grown up in a temple, he is still a kid, so its not totally unreasonable he should move into the cottage.

And it was really good soup.

Story about the Power of Friendship And Also Home Cooking

#patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #fake fic meme #sidespart writes #also if this sounds even vaguly interetsing #READ THE CIRCLE OF MAGIC BOOKS #THEY'RE SO GOOD

[warcats-cat]

Visibility (Chapter 3)

( A bit of a short one today, but I've had it on the backburner for a while and didn't want to make you guys wait any longer. I hope you enjoy!!)

First - Previous

Ao3 Here!

The thing about massive, colony-changing discoveries, was the fact that they’re discoveries. Something never previously known.

AKA a phenomenon with no previous research.

To say Logan felt the pressure of the work now resting on his shoulders was a grievous understatement.

The days had begun to blur together, and exhausted was a term that had long passed; flown off towards the setting sun while being mournfully watched from a window. Logan wished he could come up with a new term for how he was feeling, something deeper and much more meaningful than merely exhausted.

It had been at least a week since his presentation for Roman, and he had not stopped working since that day. Truthfully, Logan couldn’t tell the day anymore, he’d stopped counting them a while ago.

But his work was important, perhaps the most important thing he had ever done, or would ever do again. He needed answers, and to get those he needed research, and short of risking a hunting party into human territory to find more of the wires for his study, he was doing everything he could think of.

Logan had an entire notebook now dedicated to his findings; shape, weight, potential materials of human origin and how to recreate them for fairy use. How the wire reacted to water (well), dirt (not well), as well as sunlight (which, apparently, could spark fires through the portholes if left at the proper angle and pointed to suitable dry materials. He had to have a new balcony built after that particular discovery.)

Everything he learned was important. And it was especially important to him.

Several tests had been made using himself as a subject, examining how close he had to be to the portals for their apparent sight-increasing to begin taking effect (fairly close), if both portholes worked equally for the eyes (they did not, although the difference was slight). There were sketches scattered about the room mimicking the humans’ placement of the wire on the face, with the intention of creating a model.

Logan simply couldn’t stop.

Patton had offered to assist several times, but without the research as a base, the mage would have no idea what spells to cast or (potentially) how to cast them. And they would need a functional model first if they wanted anything to work on at all.

There had been practical experiments too, carefully observed by Logan himself (because he had absolutely no plans to let his precious treasure out of his sight) along with Patton and Virgil, where a few of the palace guardsmen volunteered to test their own observations through the portals.

Nearly a quarter of the volunteers experienced phenomena similar to Logan and Patton, which only served to double Virgil’s anxieties about the King’s safety and puzzle Logan to no end.

Just how did humans create these devices? And with absolutely no magical ability to speak of? How did they even know what to look for?

Yes, simple exhaustion was long passed now.

Logan turned back to his notes, watching the words seem to swirl around the pages before shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. He rubbed his eyes, blinking hard as if to fend off the feeling by sheer force alone. As he rolled his shoulders and stretched, there was the sound of a soft knock at his door.

He elected to ignore the sound; anyone of importance would know to simply come in, or come back during daylight hours. Anyone else knew not to bother him.

Unfortunately, it turned out to be someone of great importance; Patton poked his head through the doorway with a cheerful, if hesitant, “Hey, Lolo.”

Logan didn’t look up from his notes, grunting in greeting while running gentle fingers across the pages, searching for answers among the countless words he’d written and combed through before.

“It’s early.” Patton said softly in his ear. When had he gotten so close? Logan glanced up for a moment to see the sky turning burgundy-red in the distance. Sunrise, it seemed, was not far off.

He hummed in acknowledgment, reaching for a quill to make a note on the edge of his current page.

Suddenly there were fingers in his hair, rubbing lightly above his temples.

Logan’s mind sputtered like a candle being blown out.

“Wh… What are you doing?” the fairy asked as his brain tried to recover. The massage turned to a light scratching of his scalp at his question, and his body slumped a bit, opposite the will of his brain.

“You’re so worked up.” Patton answered, as if that was enough of an explanation for interrupting Logan’s work. It was harder to think with each second.

“I’m…. I have… very important… things…” Arguing was not in his favor when his tongue seemed to have altogether stopped working.

“Shhh.” Patton whispered, a light tug pulling Logan to his feet and out of his desk chair. The shorter fairy seemed to have no trouble at all guiding Logan across the room, hovering just slightly off the floor to keep his fingers in Logan’s hair, and keep up with the far too comfortable scratching. “Sleepy time, Logan.”

When had he laid in bed?

“Noo.” He protested weekly, but it was too late. His shoes were off, the covers of his bed pulled up loosely over his chest, and somehow Patton had wiggled in behind him so that Logan’s head was pillowed against his soft stomach.

His fingers still carding through Logan’s hair, the royal mage spoke in soft murmurs as Logan began to drift away.

“You’ve been working so hard, Lolo. You’re doing so good. You just need to sleep now, and then everything will feel all better in the morning.”

“ ‘szz morning.” Logan put in the last of his fight, which only served to make Patton giggle.

“Fine. Afternoon then.” The mage’s nose nuzzled into the crown of his hair. “Sleep now, sweetheart. I’ll be right here.”

Damn Patton and his comfortable cuddles.

And Logan slept.

((Chapter Four))

#warcats writes #ts fairy au #sanders sides au #sanders sides fic #ts sides #ts sides fic #ts sides au #fairy sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #fanfic #overuse of italics

[arya-skywalker]

Pleasant Surprises (Sanders Sides Fanfic)

Secret Santa fic for the amazing @nightashes ! Hope you enjoy

Prompts used:

- Familial (brotherly) anxceit, analogical

- Fantasy, (emotional) h/c

- Hugs, firelight, new beginnings

- “I think I understand now”

- “I’m here for you” (slightly different phrasing but same idea)

Read on AO3

Summary: Virgil risks a journey home to the dark forest to reconnect with brother Janus— and invite him to a potential wedding.

~*~

“I need to tell him,” Virgil said, curled up by the fire.

“Hm?” Logan looked up from his book. “Tell who, what, exactly? I’m afraid I’m not quite following.”

Virgil grimaced. “My brother. About....” He gestured vaguely. “Us? Me not being dead?”

“Ah.” Logan closed his book. “Would you like me to come with you?”

“No.” Virgil quickly shook his head. “No. I need to go alone. Besides, it’s not safe for you there.”

Logan folded his hands on his lap. “You left for a reason. Are you quite certain you want to go back?”

“I was scared, Lo. But now... I know what to expect. I’m ready.”

“Very well. Contact me if you need assistance.” Logan stood and walked over to his desk, taking out a small handheld mirror. “Say my name into this mirror, and we will be able to communicate through it.”

Virgil looked at the mirror warily. “And if I break it?”

Logan sighed. “It will still work on a shard of the mirror, but please be careful.”

“Always am.” Virgil smiled wanly as he took the mirror, cautiously placing it in his satchel.

Logan kissed his forehead and squeezed his hand gently. “Come home soon, please.”

Virgil took his hand and stood. “That’s the goal. I’ll miss you.” He stretched and took a deep breath. “Well, see you later, I guess.”

“Farewell and good luck.”

Virgil forced a smile and waved, then quickly packed his things before heading out the door— not giving himself the chance to back out.

~*~

Virgil tugged his cloak close against the chill. This was a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea. Five years. Five years apart.

Maybe Janus wouldn’t even want to see him. Hell, maybe he wasn’t even here.

No. Too late to turn back.

Eerie whispers echoed in the mists and shadows lurked behind skeletal trees, but Virgil ignored them. That was normal here. As was the eternal night. Perfectly normal.

Here lived the monsters of the realm. The forsaken. The lost and abandoned. The only advantage was that they never hurt one of their own.

Virgil stopped in front of the door built into the cliffside and knocked. Snakes, spiders, and tentacles were carved around the doorframe, but there were no windows— only narrow slats to let air and light inside. Easier to defend without having to worry about glass.

It felt like eternity before the door opened. “Well, this is unexpected,” Janus drawled, his scales gleaming in the dim light.

“Hey, Jan... umm... can I come in?” Virgil rubbed his arm, not quite meeting his brother’s gaze.

“Depends on what brought you here.”

“I just wanna talk.” Virgil bit his lip. “And... apologize?”

“Go on, then. Say what you came to say.” Janus leaned against the doorframe.

Virgil took a deep breath. “I think I understand now,” he said slowly.

Janus arched an eyebrow. “Oh do you now? What do you understand?”

“Why you did what you did. Why we lived how we did. Why we were always hiding, never leaving the forest. How the world really works— well, not as much that, but more than I knew—“

“Did someone hurt you?” Janus cut him off, taking a step closer, concern in his eyes.

Virgil winced. “No. Well, yes, but that’s not important right now. What’s important is you don’t need to do that anymore. We can help you.”

Janus’s brow knitted. “We?” he echoed.

“I... uh... met some nice people. Like, really nice. I think you’d like them, if you give them a chance.” Virgil picked at a loose thread at the edge of his cloak.

Janus gave him a look, then sighed and stepped aside. “Come in. Would you like some tea?”

Virgil sighed in relief and walked through the doorway. It was just as he had left it— fur blankets piled around cushions and chairs, rickety table, a large fireplace with snakes around the mantle. “Sure. Something herbal?”

“Chamomile?” Janus suggested, filling a pot with water and placing it over the hearth.

“Whatever, sure.” Virgil warmed himself by the fire, then grabbed a blanket and took a seat on a nearby cushion.

Janus laughed softly. “Still prefer the floor to a chair, hm?”

Virgil shrugged. “It’s convenient. And warmer,” he said.

“Mm. Indeed it is,” Janus said. “Honey in your tea, yes?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

A moment later, Janus set a cup of tea on the floor next to Virgil and sat down a few feet away. “Careful. It’s hot,” he said. Which was obvious due to the steam.

Virgil wrapped his hands around the teacup anyway, breathing in the aroma. “So... umm... what’s up with you?” He winced. “I mean, like, what have you been up to? How have you been?”

Janus chuckled softly. “More of the same. Hunting. Strengthening the wards.” He gestured vaguely.

“Right, yeah,” Virgil muttered.

“I am far more interested about you, spiderling. Care to talk about your grand adventures?” Janus arched an eyebrow.

Virgil snorted. “I wouldn’t call them that. But uh... I guess.” He took a sip of his tea once it had cooled down enough. “Well... I headed roughly northeast from here. Traveled with the spider-people for a bit. But as we approached the border, some elves attacked. When they heard me speak, they stopped and demanded I bow before the prince.“ He smiled sideways. “Did you know we even had a prince out here?”

Janus hummed thoughtfully. “A prince in this forest? No, preposterous.”

“Anyway, Princey insisted on ‘rescuing’ me and ‘breaking the curse’.” Virgil gestured to his face, where dark spiderwebs still patterned his skin. “So he whisked me away to ‘civilization’.”

“Oh the horror,” Janus said, his lips quirking into a half-smile.

Virgil blushed slightly. “It was... overwhelming. So many people in one place. All so loud! And the buildings— they make walls out of wood, can you imagine? And the top out of grass! They wouldn’t last a second out here.”

Janus hummed in agreement, but remained silent, sipping at his tea.

“And... well... I don’t think the people liked me very much,” Virgil admitted, looking into the fire. “When they saw my face, they shied away. Some threw fruit and stuff, but the prince quickly put a stop to that.”

Janus narrowed his eyes. “They hurt you?” He asked in a low voice.

Virgil bit his lip. “It’s fine. It didn’t really hurt, just made a mess. And like I said, some people were nice.”

“Hmph. People do not think kindly of our people. Hence why it is safer to remain within the forest.”

“I know, I know.” Virgil ran a hand through his hair and exhaled sharply. “Anyway.... a little while later I met the prince’s advisor, a half-elf mage. He’s so handsome and smart and gentle and kind and—“ He stopped, blushing slightly. “His name is Logan and he offered to let me stay with him. He helped me learn how to control my powers.”

Janus arched an eyebrow. “You like this advisor, don’t you?”

Virgil nodded slowly. “I... yeah. We understand each other,” he said quietly.

Janus was silent for a moment, then reached over and put his hand on Virgil’s arm. “If he makes you happy, then stay with him.”

“Do you want to meet him?”

Janus blinked. “Come again?“

Virgil took out the mirror. “This is an enchanted mirror. We can communicate through it. If you want to.”

Janus touched the scaled side of his face. “Are you sure he wants to see me?”

Virgil smiled sadly. “You’re my brother. Of course he wants to meet you. And he didn’t hate my markings, so you should be fine.”

“Mm.” Janus sighed, then flicked his wrist, making his cowl float over and wrap around his face, hiding as much of his scales as he could. “Very well.”

Virgil took a deep breath and held the mirror so they were both in view. “Logan? Can we talk please?”

A moment later, the surface of the mirror fogged up, then cleared to show Logan’s face. “Virgil? Is everything alright? Can you see and hear me?”

Virgil nodded, holding Janus hand. “Yeah, we’re good. This is my brother.”

Janus cleared his throat. “Yes, Virgil is my brother,” he said. A moment later, he added, “You may call me Dee.”

“Oh. Hello, then. It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Logan,” he said, blinking a few times.

Virgil shot Janus a look. “Logan is a friend. We can trust Logan,” he said, keeping his voice low.

“You may trust him. That does not mean I do,” Janus countered, then flashed a smile at the enchanted mirror. “Virgil has told me so much about you.”

“I hope he has said that which he so urgently wanted to tell you,” Logan replied.

Virgil groaned. “Don’t say it like that,” he grumbled.

Janus arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Have you said ‘that which you so urgently wanted to tell me’?”

Virgil rubbed his face. “Lo and I... we... uh.... we were thinking about... maybe... getting married?” Gods, words were hard.

“Virgil is correct. We have discussed the possibility,” Logan said.

Janus’s reptilian eye twitched. “You leave for five years, and return with a potential spouse,” he said slowly.

Virgil bit his lip and nodded. “Potential. We haven’t decided for sure, cuz weddings are expensive pageantry and shit, but...” He took a deep breath. “If we do get married, I want you to be there. I want you to lead me down the aisle.”

Janus leaned back in his chair, glancing between them both. “This is quite a lot to take in,” he said, steepling his hands like the dramatic shit he was.

“Oh for fucks sake! I’m asking for your blessing!” Virgil blurted, then groaned and flipped up the hood of his cloak.

“If it will make you happy, then by all means...” Janus said. “However, I will need to know more about this potential spouse of yours.”

“I am an open book. Ask your questions,” Logan said.

Virgil blinked. “You... you’re not mad?”

“Mm. I wouldn’t call it mad, no.” Janus sipped at his tea. “Now, Logan, tell me about yourself.”

“I am the royal advisor to Prince Roman and Prince Remus. I am skilled in the mystical arts,” Logan said.

Janus rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know that. Tell me more about yourself. Your likes, dislikes, hobbies, whatever. Why should I let you marry my little brother, hm?”

Logan blinked. “Well... I enjoy learning whatever I can. I have known Virgil for just over four years now. I would never hurt him, and truly wish him the best.”

Virgil tugged his cloak closer. “I’m right here,” he muttered. “And you don’t need to interrogate him.”

Janus inclined his head. “I believe I have enough information for the time being, although of course I would love to meet you in person. Virgil, you wanted me to leave the forest, did you not?”

Virgil blushed slightly. “Uh, yeah. I can take you to them. If you’re serious about coming with me. And as long as the forest will survive without you.”

Janus waved an arm dismissively. “Of course, of course.”

“I look forward to seeing you both. Farewell and safe travels,” Logan said. The surface of the mirror shimmered and his image faded.

Virgil exhaled slowly. That wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

“Virgil?” Janus asked softly. “This will make you happy, yes?”

Virgil rubbed his face and nodded quickly. “Yeah, thanks. Really. I’m uh... bad with words, but yeah.”

“Would you like a hug? Or is this a no-touch-time?” Janus asked, spreading his arms.

Virgil half-fell into the embrace, holding on tightly. “I missed you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Mm. I know. I missed you, too, spiderling,” Janus murmured, rubbing gentle circles into his back. “I am glad you are safe.”

Virgil took a few deep breaths, letting himself relax. Safe. He was safe. He was home.

“And I will always be here for you. No matter how long we are apart. No matter what happens,” Janus said softly. “You didn’t really think I’d be mad at you for leaving, did you? I was simply worried.”

Virgil grimaced. “Worse case scenario shit. I’m good at that, remember?”

“Mm. But this is not a worse case scenario. Things are going well for the time being. Enjoy it.”

“While it lasts,” Virgil said with a half-smile.

Janus chuckled. “Indeed. Cherish every moment.”

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #aryaskywalker writes #secret santa fic #tss fanwork collective #fantasy au #analogical #brotherly anxceit #virgil sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders #mage logan

[max-is-tired]

you dont have to be scared anymore from the protective starters with anxceit 👀👀👀

“You don’t have to be scared anymore”

Characters: Deceit Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Logan Sanders, the others are mentioned in passing

Words: 1.218

Warnings: captivity, kidnapping, electrocution, sympathetic Deceit, sympathetic Remus (mentioned), swearing, angst with a happy ending

Notes: oh boy howdy this ficlet got a little out of hand. I’m sorry for hurting you, Dee, but it’s for the plot. Also, Dee is something similar to a chameleon hybrid in this fic, I couldn’t find a good place to state it outright but it’s implied by his abilities and whatnot kxjcnsdjcn

Commission me!!  Buy me a coffee!!  Join my Discord server!!  AO3!!

For once in his life, Dee had been happy. After centuries of fear and isolation, he’d found people like him, people who didn’t run away at the first sight of him and simply welcomed him in their group with open arms.

With them, Dee had found friends, love, a family.

He should have known it could have never lasted.

“Oi, you fucking snake!” yelled a man from outside Dee’s cell, slamming his fist on the metal bars. “You better stop hiding or we’ll tase you out ourselves, we’ve found a good buyer and he wants to see you before giving us the money.”

Dee bit his lip hard to stop the taunt building on the tip of his tongue, huddling closer to the wall as he glared at his captors -he wasn’t even a snake, but it was not like those bastards cared much about that, did they?

The hunters had found him in the middle of the forest, when he’d strayed away from the group to search for some herbs Patton had been in need of. He hadn’t been paying much attention to his surroundings, humming a song under his breath as he looked around, and had completely missed the movement behind himself until an unfamiliar hand had suddenly covered his mouth to muffle his surprised shout.

All he remembered was a prickling sensation on his neck, struggling becoming more and more difficult as his vision grew foggier by the second. And then, darkness, until he’d woken up in a small cell surrounded by unfamiliar faces that looked at him like he was a piece of meat.

Dee sighed, raising one hand to gingerly poke at the enchanted collar around his neck -that had happened a week ago now, and while there was a part of him that still hoped to be saved, Dee knew full well his chances of finding freedom once more were next to none.

He didn’t know where he was, trapped in a humid, dirty cell at the mercy of his captors. Rescue was not coming, and Dee had no chance of escaping without any outside help.

In short, he was screwed. He was tired, weakened by a week with next to no food and barely enough water to survive, and he didn’t know for how much he could keep his camouflage working. Still, Dee wasn’t going to drop it, even after the threat -it didn’t matter that he had no more hope left, Dee wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

The man snarled, taking a little device out of his pocket as a vicious smile stretched on his face.

“You asked for it, you fucking monster,” he said, pressing a button.

Immediately, the collar around Dee’s neck came to life, waves after waves of electricity coursing through his body as he fell to the ground with a muffled whimper -Dee refused to scream, refused to give those bastards the satisfaction of seeing his pain.

The man laughed, and that was all the confirmation Dee needed to know that his camouflage had dropped.

“That’s what you get for not following orders,” he taunted, settling the device back in his pocket. “Don’t think about disappearing again, or I’ll make sure to make it hurt a lot more next time.”

Dee stayed on the ground, riding the painful aftershock as his muscles twitched and spasmed. He gritted his teeth hard, fighting down the whimpers that threatened to leave his lips while his eyes stung with unshed tears. He hated this, he hated this so much.

He just wanted his family back.

Dee didn’t know for how long he laid on the ground, waiting for the one that would probably become his new owner. Probably hours, even if it felt like years had passed.

Then, he started picking out distant shouts in the distance, followed by the banging of doors opening and the sound of running footsteps getting closer and closer.

Blinking in confusion, Dee pushed himself up, groaning as his muscles ached in pain at the movement. He heard the man from before let out a series of curses as another door slammed open, this time much closer than before. There was a bang, a whooshing sound and then silence, eerie and charged as it filled the air and sent a shiver down Dee’s spine.

He quickly huddled back in his corner, eyes fixed on the cell’s door as a cloaked figure appeared on the other side of the bar.

“Dee?” the figure called, the familiar voice reaching Dee’s ears as his heart jumped in his chest.

“Logan?” he whispered before he could stop himself, hope igniting itself in his chest once again.

The figure raised an arm, quickly pushing the hood of his cloak to reveal neat, pushed-back black hair and electric blue eyes.

“Thank the stars,” Logan muttered before turning to the side. “Virgil, I’ve found him!”

Dee’s heart jumped in his chest again, this time for an entirely different reason as he stared at the man that had immediately run to Logan’s side. Virgil’s wings were open wide, the purple sheen of his feathers twinkling under the low lights of the dungeon.

Logan inspected the lock of the cell, muttering a quick spell under his breath as a blue hue surrounded his hands. After not even a few seconds a click filled the air, followed by the door swinging open.

Before Dee could even process what was happening, his boyfriend was kneeling in front of him, his wings filling his vision as if protecting them from the rest of the world.

“You’re here,” Dee breathed, barely believing his eyes as hope and relief soared in his chest.

Virgil smiled, raising one hand to gently cradle Dee’s scaled cheek.

“I am,” he murmured, voice soft and gentle. “I’m sorry it took us so long.”

“You shouldn’t have come,” Dee protested weakly, shaking his head, “it’s too dangerous, what if they get you guys too, you can’t-”

“There was no way we were going to leave you with those bastards,” Vee answered, stopping Dee’s protests in their tracks.

Then, his gaze moved to the slick, black collar around Dee’s neck, anger flashing in his eyes as he turned back towards the door.

“Logan!” he called, “can you get this off of him?”

Logan approached them, looking at the collar for a few seconds before nodding.

“It should not be an issue,” he commented, raising one hand to hover it just beside Dee’s neck, “please, keep still.”

Logan murmured a spell and they immediately heard a quiet click, the collar falling easily in Logan’s open hand.

“There, all done,” the mage murmured, standing back up, “we should get out of here soon, I don’t know for how long the twins will be able to keep everyone distracted and we need to bring Dee to Patton so he can heal his injuries.”

Virgil nodded, wrapping his arms around Dee and swiftly standing up, carrying him bridal style.

As they ran out of the door and down the unfamiliar corridors, Dee curled closer to Virgil’s chest, letting his sense be filled with his boyfriend’s steady heartbeat and familiar scent as he finally, finally relaxed.

“It’s okay, Dee,” Virgil murmured from above him, holding him just a little tighter.

“You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

#sanders sides #anxceit #deceit sanders #virgil sanders #sympathetic deceit #logan sanders #creatures au #winged virgil #chameleon deceit #mage logan #swearing #captivity #kidnapping #electrocution #angst with a happy ending #deceit angst #ts fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #maxiswriting

[iwrestlenow]

Many More To Die, Chapter 7

TITLE: Many More To Die (Chapter 7)

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: The secret history of Logan and Roman begins to come to light while little pieces of Roman's world start to fall apart around him, resulting in a late night confrontation that exposes Roman's role in reuniting Virgil with his big brother.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), Moceit (Patton/Janus) and future Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: MORE CHAPTERS INCOMING, ‘cause this was getting super bloated. IDK, I just have a lot of feelings, and I’m rushing ‘cause I want the boys to kiss and be happy so I can start my series of smutty one-shots...I mean, what? >.> <.< XD

Also, no betas, we die like men.

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more…hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

1020, A.A.

“Hold on...just hold on...”

It took all his effort to stay calm, keeping the rhythm of his compressions steady the way Remus taught him. It was different, watching his twin tap-tap-tap the chest of a tiny kitten and blowing a careful stream of air into its snout—this was a boy, an entire person and his skin was pale as marble, lips tinged the blue of Father's lapis ring...

The body under his hands spasmed, a gush of water suddenly erupting from his mouth. Thinking as quickly as he could, Roman tipped the boy's head to the side so he could spit the water on the grass beside the river that ran behind the palace, and not swallow it back into his lungs—but you couldn't swallow things into your lungs, could you? Was it wrong? Was he doing this wrong?

...pulse. He should feel for a pulse, right? That's what Remus said...

Roman pressed fingers to the boy's throat, sagging when he felt the rapid flutter of a heartbeat there...at least until the boy twisted away and scrambled back, still hacking and shaking from the chill air and his sodden clothing.

Blue eyes met green, and eleven year old Prince Roman Sanders was struck breathless by the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his short life.

“Careful—it's all right, I won't hurt you.” he soothed, raising his hands and remaining on his knees. “I just want to make sure you're okay.”

The other boy blinked, water dripping off clumped eyelashes like diamonds falling to roll down his wet cheeks. He had jet black hair, plastered to his head, and even with his heart beating again, his skin was still so pale. His eyes sparkled like the river water itself, clear and bright and so blue it almost hurt to look at them.

“I...was dead.” the other boy hiccuped, bringing a hand to his chest as his brow furrowed in confusion.

“I...well, yeah. I mean, your heart wasn't beating, so I used the vital breath to make it start again. My brother taught me.”

The boy blinked, his thin but well formed lips drawing into a curious pout that made him flinch, made him reach up and touch his lower lip—sporting a shallow cut that matched one on Roman's, where he'd been a little too forceful pressing his mouth to the boy's so he could force air into his lungs.

“You...you brought me back from the dead.”

Roman blinked—but when he said it like that, he supposed that he had. Wow.

“I didn't use magic.” he said instead of...literally anything else. “I swear it.”

“On the Spider's Thread?”

“What's that?”

“The bond that unites souls.” the boy explained. “It's the most sacred oath in the world, 'cause if you break it the Fates will tear you from the Living Tapestry.”

“What's the Living Tapestry?” Roman asked, shifting to edge closer to the boy.

“The world.” he replied through chattering teeth. “And all the people in it...and you stopped them. You stopped Fate.”

“But—I didn't use magic. I didn't...really stop Fate, I...I just...you were floating in the river, and—I had to try.” Roman explained, feeling strange with all this talk of bonded souls and raising the dead, and how pretty the boy was.

“Is...is that okay?”

The boy watched him with a look Roman couldn't make heads or tails of...but after a moment he nodded.

“It's okay.” he assured him, shifting onto his knees slowly.

“Good.” Roman replied, then winced a little when the clickclickclickclick of the boy's chattering teeth became audible.

“You're so cold—you'll catch your death without some dry clothes.” He looked down at himself—equally wet from diving into the river to pull the boy out. “I could bring you back to the palace to dry off and--”

“I can't go there.”

Roman flinched at the forceful way he said it, harsh and tinged with fear. He didn't need to be his brother to connect the dots.

The boy knew a lot about death magic, and he was afraid of the palace. He was Necromata...but he was small and beautiful and shivering, and he wasn't sure anyone so awestruck by the vital breath, of all things, could be as evil as he'd been raised to believe.

Could they?

Roman thought for a moment, then struggled to his feet and started pulling off his tailored white tunic, leaving him in a simple black cotton undershirt.

“What--”

“I'm going to walk you home.” Roman insisted. “You're in no shape to be by yourself—and if I'm dressed like a citizen, no one will recognize me as a prince! You'll be safe.”

The boy watched him as he finished stripping off anything that would mark him as nobility, even discarding his boots so he was walking barefoot. When he was done, the boy was still kneeling on the ground, just...staring at him.

“What?”

“You said 'citizen.' Not 'commoner.'”

Roman made a face. “I don't like the word. I don't think people are common—I like to watch the roads from my bedroom window and imagine all the stories that the people who travel them have to tell. Common people are boring, and how can anyone with so many stories be boring?”

The boy hesitated, but finally started to get to his feet.

“Thank you...apologies. I don't know which prince you are.”

“Roman. I'm Prince Roman.” he offered, extending his hand to the boy to help him up. “And I swear—by the Spider's Thread—that I will see you home safe.”

Regarding the hand thoughtfully, the boy reached up to take it.

“Salutations, Your Highness. I am Logan Crofter.”

Their fingers touched—and Roman's heart froze when the other boy screamed.

********** 1033, A.A.

“At the end of the day, Your Majesty, the truth will come out: you're not merely a pawn of the necromancer. You're in league with him—and the Sanders line will fall from power. After all, twins don't long survive the death of their other half—or so the stories say.”

The words were going to haunt Roman long past the resurrection of his father—then again, so was the broken hand that still throbbed where he'd punched the court mage in a fit of blind fury.

“Roman!”

He stopped in his tracks, finally allowing himself to take stock of his surroundings: he was storming down the corridor that would lead to the north wing, where Patton and Logan were being kept. Head still spinning with the angry shouts and protests of both royal advisors and soldiers loyal to Colonel Mori, he'd fled the crowded throne room after breaking the mage's jaw with only the sound of his brother's cackling to comfort him.

Without his permission, his feet were trying to carry him towards the necromancer—towards Logan.

The one who was depending on him. The one who was helping him...the one...

Footsteps pounded behind him. His eternal, steady awareness of his own twin was all that kept Roman from being startled by the hand that grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

“Roman.”

Remus stood there in front of him, hands on his shoulders, wearing an uncharacteristically sober expression. For one moment, in his mind's eye he saw Logan and Virgil, somewhere in the palace, having a similar encounter—the image had clung to the back of his thoughts since a discreet intrusion from Remy let him know that Logan was okay, his hope for both of them a fantasy he couldn't stop himself from willing into reality.

Logan had his brother back. Virgil had his...the notion of it made Roman ache, brought him dangerously close to thinking about things he couldn't entertain. Not a hint, not even a memory.

Hold on.

Do not let go.

I never have...I never will.

Roman was clutching at Remus's hands on his shoulders before he could stop himself, staring down his twin. For a second, Remus's eyes widened and his gaze grew distant—looked at him like he wasn't there, didn't seem to see him through whatever wheels were turning in his head...

Then the wall came down, his hands slid away from Roman's...his arms opened, and Roman collapsed into them. He felt the tears fall, then stream, then shook with sobs torn from his marrow. The dangerous memories fell away, replaced instead by the chill of the king's lifeless body, the stillness in Roman's arms, the stiffness of rigor setting in as he held him close before the guards forced him back into the castle.

His father was dead.

Father was dead.

Father was dead.

In the heart of the palace, Roman came apart, and Remus gently put him back together with strong arms, soft words, and shared pain.

********** 1021, A.A.

“You're sure this is all right?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Because I wish it.”

The pair were walking by the river, Logan's request. He wouldn't tell Roman anything more than that he had to do something as part of his training, and that he wanted Roman's help. Logan's Grandpap didn't know he was doing it, Roman lied about being sick to get out of his lessons and sneak out for the afternoon...

It was confusing as hell, and Roman would be a lot more afraid of the chances he was taking if it were anyone but Logan asking him to do this.

“But what if your Grandpap finds out about...whatever we're doing, and you get in trouble?” Roman protested.

“Then he can...”

Logan trailed off and stopped walking with a  frown before fumbling with uncharacteristic clumsiness to reach into his pocket for the vocabulary cards that had been a staple since Roman started teaching him outsider slang. The clumsiness came from reaching into his right pocket with his left hand—because his right hand was busy being firmly enmeshed with Roman's.

“...'deal.'” Logan finished once he'd pulled the cards out and read the top one. Glancing up to meet Roman's gaze, he offered him the small, triumphant smirk that anyone else might read as arrogant confidence. Roman knew it was all Logan allowed himself in moments of triumph—pride in the hard-won victories.

“You've been studying.” Roman observed, doing a miserable job of hiding a smile.

Logan stopped in his tracks, released Roman's hand, and shuffled through the vocabulary cards for another one, speaking as he displayed it for Roman's evaluation.

“'Duh.'”

Roman dissolved into giggling, and on impulse reached out, pulling Logan into a hug. The ten year old boy immediately tensed, breath stilling at the unexpected embrace.

Roman didn't let go, but he did loosen his arms for Logan's benefit. He waited to see if he'd bolt or...

Roman watched the vocabulary card flutter to the ground as Logan let them go, and very deliberately wrapped his arms around Roman's waist, laying his cheek against Roman's shoulder. He was still tense, but held on.

“Too much?” Roman asked softly.

“Yes.” Logan replied.

“Hurts?”

“Yes.”

“Should I stop?”

“...no. I...”

“Breathe, Logan. Remus says it's important to breathe—and important to take it slow 'cause you're touch starved.” Roman reminded him. “I'm sorry I didn't ask first, but I really don't want to hurt you. I'll let go if you ask me to.”

“I know, just...”

“What is it, Logan?”

“...more.”

The way his voice fractured and his arms reflexively tightened broke something inside of Roman as he did as he was asked: held tighter, pressed his face to Logan's hair, stood still and gave hugging his best friend his whole attention.

That was the moment Logan let out a shaky sigh and sagged in Roman's arms. He didn't know what it was, but he had to be thinking about touching Logan for it to stop hurting. Sometimes it was still too warm and too overwhelming, but it didn't seem to hurt him as bad when he was just standing there, willing his whole attention into Logan.

“...it's the Warping.”

Roman frowned a little, lifting his head just enough to rest his cheek against Logan's hair instead of his whole face. “What?”

“The Warping.” Logan repeated quietly, his breath puffing warm against Roman's neck. “I must commune with the dead as part of my training. The fiber strung onto the loom for weaving is called the warp, while the fiber that is strung across this is called the weft. The Warping is preparing myself to learn how to find the Loom of Memory—a state of consciousness where I can work my power properly.”

Roman nodded against Logan's head. “What do I need to do?”

“Just be with me...technically, I am supposed to do it alone, but I researched the ritual, and it is believed that, in the Old Times, a Weaver could bring their Animata to the Warping.”

“But I'm not an Animata.”

“No, but the Animata's defining characteristic was that they were twin souls—and you are a twin. I believe your presence will be acceptable.” Logan replied. “I...am supposed to acclimate myself to the emotions of the dead. It's not really my strongest area—feelings—and...”

Logan didn't finish. Just held on, tensing a little, then relaxing—leaning into Roman's embrace.

“You're afraid.” Roman finished for him softly.

“Fear is an emotion. I feel nothing.” Logan insisted petulantly—and it was petulant with the way he huffed soft against Roman's neck. “Necromancers have no souls with which to feel.”

“So you keep saying.”

“It's true.”

Silence fell again.

“...if I had a soul, however...I would entrust it to you.”

Roman felt something in his stomach tremble at that, soft and shivery and bright.

“Swear it on the Spider's Thread?” he asked softly.

Logan didn't answer right away—as he did with things he was never terribly sure of.

“Grandpap says that the Spider's Thread is woven by Fate, not by magic.” he replied instead of a real answer.

Roman fell silent at that, just holding onto Logan and trying to ignore the way that having Logan close like this, pledging him his non-existent soul, quiet breaths on his neck and head on his shoulder made his chest warm, made his heart do pleasant, squirmy things in his chest.

“Do...you believe in Fate, Logan?” he asked softly, not sure why he suddenly felt like holding his breath. Fortunately, he didn't have to.

Like most things Logan knew—which was almost everything—he answered immediately.

“I have since I met you.”

********** 1033, A.A.

Roman couldn't sleep that night—which was a good thing, seeing as how his room was invaded at three AM.

It happened silently, but he was emotionally raw and vaguely paranoid after what had happened to his father, after the threats made against him and all he cared for by the members of his own guard, his own court—or, perhaps, he just felt Logan's magic still teeming in his veins, keeping his heart beating and his lungs full of air. Maybe the nearness of him set something off, magic calling to magic.

One moment, the dark was empty and gaping like the hole in his chest that lingered ever since his breakdown in the halls with Remus, and the next it opened wider before filling with a presence that teased him with both the promise of danger and comfort.

When the blade touched his throat, he already had his hand under the pillow.

“Virgil, don't.”

Roman expected Logan's voice—he did not, however, expect that Logan had company.

Snapping his fingers to call to life the luminaries in his room, Roman sat up and pulled his hand out from under his pillow, a dagger in his hand and pressed to the hollow of the cadet's throat. Virgil hissed—actually hissed out loud—and backpedaled, his own dagger dragging a thin line against the side of Roman's throat.

“OW! You venomous little shit!” he spat, touching his bleeding neck as he blinked against the onslaught of light.

His hand was jerked away, and cool fingers probed his throat with deft, clinical precision. Abruptly, his head grew foggy with something akin to sleep, but cold and light...Logan's magic working, taking control of him again.

“Relax—I'm not taking your mind, I'm healing you.”

“You're what?! Logan, you're a Weaver! You can't heal!”

Roman had to work at it a little, but his free hand lifted to rub his eyes. When he let it fall again, he had  Logan sitting on the edge of his bed, hand pressed to his chest just below his collarbone, eyes lit up with that dazzling blue-white, misty light again.

“Apparently, I can when I'm animating someone.” Logan pointed out, lifting his hand and running it along Roman's throat. The touch, with Logan so close, raised gooseflesh on his skin—and there was a lot of it, given Roman slept only in loose trousers and nothing else.

Virgil leaned in as he sheathed his dagger, his eyes going wide. “Ohhhhhh, shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit...”

Roman reached up, following the trail Logan's palm had taken—and found no trace of the wound. Not even a scar remained.

What troubled him was that Virgil was right. It wasn't something Roman was allowed to know, something he couldn't glean from the things he read in secret or the tidbits Remus shared from his Anima lovers...and he couldn't communicate how he knew.

Logan looked at Virgil pointedly over his shoulder, then turned back to Roman when his brother fell silent again.

“I apologize for the unexpected arrival, but Virgil insisted on secrecy once he realized he'd been exposed.”

“E-exposed?” Roman stammered, his head still spinning with surprise, the lingering effects of Logan's power, and very genuine confusion. “I don't understand.”

“Yeah, you do.” Virgil snapped, folding his arms. “You knew who I was before Master Picani felt my connection to Logan and outed me in the war room. That's how I got in, and with a shard of Necromatic magic hidden in a healing object, no less.”

Roman felt his blood run cold, and in a manner that was anything but light or misty like Logan's magic.

“Don't deny it: I asked around after Logan got back to Patton this evening. You personally cleared me when I applied to join the guard. Pair that with the fact that Logan remembers the night he was arrested? And you're lucky he stopped me from killing you.”

The world stopped turning in that instant. Everything came to a halt, from the spinning of the earth to the beating of his heart as he met Logan's eyes—those crystal blue depths that he barely kept at bay, the swirling tempest that he restrained for ten years...

Roman balled his hands into fists and tried to remember how to breathe again around the nameless emotion trying to claw its way out of his heart.

“You...remember me, Logan?”

Logan just stared at him, features inscrutable. His brow furrowed, his lips pursed—he was thinking, he was...uncertain.

“I was half conscious in the war room.” he finally replied. “The Spider's Thread—Virgil told me what that oath references. I...I don't remember you, but I feel certain you swore that oath for a reason.”

The nameless feeling in his heart grew claws, ripped and tore and drew blood.

“I did.”

“...how long have we known each other?”

“Ten years. Since the night we met in the dungeon.”

“And in total?”

Roman shut his eyes, bowing his head to avoid that look, those eyes that would unmake him.

“...thirteen. We've known each other for thirteen years.”

#necromancer au #sanders sides #fanfic #ts logan #ts roman #ts virgil #ts remus #logince #this is all the artist's fault i'm just a hapless writer that stumbled across it #my name is liz and i swear to god i will fic again #logan sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders

[greenninjagal-blog]

Here Come the Sun (pt1)

Sometimes I have aus in my archives for so long I can’t even think of something witty to put at the beginning of them. Anyway! Have a new fic!

Summary: Virgil used to dream about being a hero, but the combination of his best friend's and his lives being at stake forces him to do some things good guys don't do and, well... that sort of thing doesn't seem to be in the cards anymore. However, he also didn't count on the guy he was sent to kidnap being Patton Hart.

Words: 4606

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Chapter One: Windy

The truth is Virgil Storm knew that he was going down a dark path long before it ever came to kidnapping the heir to a multimillion dollar cross country railway company. The writings had been on the walls, on the ground, carved in his skin from the moment he had first realized that no one was going to love that rain cloud over his head. 

He’d tried. Virgil had tried for a while! Really gave it his best shot, he swears! But in the end, food costs money and people hate when he stays around for extended periods of time and he had gotten sick of finding knives in his back (literally).

So he’s not a good person anymore. And he knows it even now while he’s threading down the cobblestone streets that usually would have been pedestrian only on a borrowed magic cycle, listening to the music of the rain landing and skillfully avoiding the puddles as he goes about his job, albeit at a slower pace than he really should.

He’d heard rumors that Magnolia was a bright and sunny place to be; Remus had come back from trashing Star Burst’s guild hall complaining about the cheerful people and the cloudless sky and how the sun had heated up his piercings and chains uncomfortably. It’s fitting that Virgil’s own trip to the town has been herald by thunderstorms.

Even with his poncho hood up, Virgil’s bangs are soaking wet and his jeans are plastered to his legs from the angle of the rain. He’s cold, as usual, always cold, and it makes him wonder after that allusive feeling of warmth that Remus talks about sometimes.

He understands it in theory: He can make water boil with a thought for tea when Remus’s inhuman immune system finally succumbs after three days of non stop traveling in the rain, he’s gotten close enough to fire for his body to start sizzling, and, of course, there’s that feeling of tingly-ness he gets when Remus tackles him in hugs after rolling around in the mud, despite his frantic yelling for him not to. 

But come on, Remus said there was a giant orb in the sky made of fire that makes everyone feel that tingly feeling when they're out under it. It sounds completely made up! If everyone didn't have the same delusion, Virgil wouldn't have believed him at all.

But, to be fair, it's also not his fault he's never seen the sun. 

After all, it's not like he asked to be born. He came into the world kicking and screaming and his cries had caused lightning to hit the hospital, rains to pelt the windows, thunder to boom. 

“Inherent magic,” the doctors said. “One of the strongest cases we’ve ever seen! He’s a weather witch!”

And really after twenty years of hearing that repeatedly, it feels like a cosmic joke. He’s not a weather witch; the only thing he’s managed to do is make it rain harder. Not that anyone has ever believed him when he says it. 

He learned quickly to hide himself away when the other kids at the orphanage got restless from weeks inside and the abundance of rain because they liked to take their frustrations out on him. When he started travelling the country, he got used to the cursing of passersby caught in the sudden rain that followed him around. His first crush called him gloomy, his second called him dreary, the third told him to pick one to stay, him or the rain and that night Virgil had found out that he can’t drown no matter how much he tries. 

But Remus... Virgil doesn’t know where he’d be without Remus. It’s a double edged sword masquerading as a question; what would have become of Virgil if he hadn’t come to town at the same time as Remus had been leaving, and Virgil is a coward by nature so he avoids thinking about it too hard.

They had run into each other about four towns away, both of them just shy of eighteen and Virgil ghosting through the city alone, lone, lonely because his rain had driven everyone else inside. Remus had nearly bowled him over, in the middle of jumping in the puddles like he was getting paid to do it. He’d splashed Virgil and then when Virgil had snapped at him, he’d grabbed Virgil by his poncho and pulled him into another puddle face first.

With a mouth full of sharpened teeth and a laugh that sounded like he’d been eating industrial nails, Remus had managed to make Virgil smile for probably the first time ever. 

Remus is like a candle, unafraid of the way that Virgil's always doused every flame he’s come across, accidentally or not. He’s loud, he’s unconventional, and he’s absolutely insane. 

It had taken Virgil a while to understand why the locals called him “The Building Eater” but after watching Remus nearly unhinge his jaw and take a bite out of the steel frame of a half constructed building they were walking by with no warning at all….well it started to make sense. With his red eyes blazing with mischief and his tendency to create chaos just for his own entertainment, Virgil could see why anyone would call Remus crazy and run away screaming.

But Virgil had also seen Remus on late nights, half a barrel of wine gone, and his smile falling to something more lost and sad as they sat alone at the bar counter after having terrified the bar owner out of the building for the night.

“I don’t do friends,” Remus said once with the rain tap, tap, tapping on the windows behind them. “No point in it. Everyone leaves in the end anyway.”

“What a coincidence!” Virgil had responded, far more drunk than he’d ever meant to be because wine and water mix extremely well and somehow he always forgets that. “Hey, what’s your opinion on the rain?”

Virgil knows what it’s like to be sad and lost and alone. It's not a feeling he'd wish on anyone, especially not someone like Remus, who never once asked him to turn off the rain, who tilts his head upwards into the drizzle with a smile, who jumps in puddles and throws mud at anyone who says the downpour was ruining their day.

Everyone leaves, but not Virgil, but not Remus. They made a pact and however drunken it was, Virgil doesn’t go back on his word.

Which is why he’s in Magnolia. Kidnapping a guy.

For Remus.

Virgil blows out a breath and the rain thickens just a bit. The puddles are starting to flood the street, which is unfortunate, because he doesn’t think that the shop owners around here have flooding insurance. If there hadn’t been a startling lack of rain for the past few weeks, the river that flows through the middle of the famed merchant city would have already hit the flooding mark and he’d be driving through more than just a centimeter of water. 

If he wasn’t out of here in thirty minutes there was a good chance he wasn’t going to be leaving at all. And he was pretty sure the excuse of “Oh I have negative emotions about doing legally wrong things” was not going to fly with anyone if that happened.

He hopes that Remus is having a good time, because he’s very much not.

Once upon a time he had dreamed of joining Star Burst, of wearing that bright star shaped guild mark on his chest, of having billions of friends and taking on exciting jobs to help people all over the country and then coming back to a safe and welcoming home. But then again, who hadn’t dreamed of such a thing? Even the orphanage caretaker had a subscription to Sorcerer’s Weekly which kept a ranking of all the magic guilds in the country and personal interviews with members from the more popular ones. Virgil used to sneak reads of the magazines before she had caught him and told him that he should maybe aim a little lower than the nation’s top magic guild since he couldn’t even control his own magic and he was nearing twelve. After he hit the road, he had snuck looks at a couple news stands, just to keep up to date.

Thomas Sanders led the guild, having founded it from the ground up when he realized that the other magic guilds in the area didn’t click with him. He had a heart warming interview a few years ago about “a sense of belonging and family” being the central idea of his guild which Virgil had cut out and then drowned in a puddle until the paper had dissolved into sludge. Despite the sentimentality of their leader, the guild had quickly grown into the most powerful, most out-of-control magic guild ever.

People liked to joke that the Magic Council formed specifically to keep Star Burst in line. It had always struck Virgil as odd about how many countless times that Thomas had willingly gone head-to-head in the court to defend his members, much less how many more times he came out victoriously. Virgil knows that his own guildmaster would never, and even on his worst days, Virgil's monsoons had caused a lot less property damage than Star Burst had in their endeavors.

((For example: just a few months ago, during a job reportedly where they were supposed to deliver a package to someone at the top of a mountain that was bordered by somewhat dangerous Vulcans, several Star Burst members ended up stumbling on a secret Dark Magic Guild by the name of Cosmic Dust that had been experimenting on the local fauna with magic rituals, which the Star Burst members interrupted and caused a seventy foot tall raging plant monster to emerge and decimate four other mountains before somehow being stopped. Three different towns came together to applaud them for a job well done.

That same week, Virgil and Remus were hired to fight lizardmen in an underground sewer system and they nearly got fined for blocking the water system for three hours while they hunted down the last of the creatures.))

Thomas Sanders is charismatic, personable, amicable. When Virgil was a kid, he dreamed that Thomas would suddenly get this urge to adopt kids and that Virgil would somehow catch his eyes and Thomas would look at him with that just… stupidly kind expression and his thunderstorms would magically melt away and prove that it was never anything wrong with him.

Not that anything like that ever happened. Now it’s just an embarrassing memory: Thomas is just a guy, not some miracle worker and Virgil is tragedy incarnate, not something an average guy can fix.

But it helped that Thomas is one of the top ten most powerful mages in the entire world, wielding Celestial magic that allows him to call for aid from the beings of the constellations themselves. All that and it’s still without having any of the so-called most powerful gold keys; he redefined the world of holder-type magic by using the “lower powered” keys to build himself up into what he was.

Or at least that’s what the papers say. Virgil’s an inherent magic type, as is Remus. Their magic both originates from their bodies in strong enough bursts to form their own attacks and the idea of having conduit keys or cards or books or anything to focus their powers just sounds ridiculous.

But hey, if it works, it works, Virgil guesses. Thomas is considered formidable enough that Virgil is pretty sure if he ever came face to face with the guy, he’d probably explode into a puddle, kind smiles or not. He’s number one on the list of people that Virgil doesn’t want to have to fight, and considering that Magnolia is the home of the Star Burst Magic Guild, and Virgil is about to kidnap one of their mages… the possibility of facing off with their leader is greater than the usual zero probability Virgil likes to keep it at.

He hopes desperately that everything has been going according to plan with everyone else. Guildmaster Clay had told him that his target was likely going to be the only one that remained behind when Star Burst struck out for vengeance against Remus’s attack on their empty guildhall and subsequent hospitalization of two of the main healers from the guild, but in Virgil’s experience people’s minds can change just as easily as the weather can go from sunny to thunderstorms. If his target isn’t there he’s going to be screwed. If someone other than his target is there he’s also screwed.

Not that he can’t take another person in a fight. The Guildmaster said to be quiet and quick and if they wanted a lot of noise about this job… well anyone else from the guild probably would have been sent. 

Virgil takes the next corner faster than he probably should, skidding through a puddle, and feeling the water drip down his poncho, sliding off the waterproof surface and flying off into the empty air behind him. Thunder rumbles overhead like a dissatisfied customer, but no lightning yet, which is comforting if only because it means he’s got a little bit of control over his own emotions. He eases off the accelerator, flexing his stiff fingers in their waterproof gloves, and shifting his boots against the foot rests, as he ready his brakes.

Part of him hopes that maybe the info had been wrong; maybe this guy had actually been with the rest of the guild in a last minute switch! Maybe the rumors about Remus had freaked him out and he skipped town last night, never to be seen again. Maybe Virgil drove all the way out here, memorized the whole city layout, and spent all this time agonizing over doing this, all for nothing!

But as soon as he thinks it, he turns the last corner and glances up at the building that some of the Star Burst members have been set up in while repairs of the guildhall are discussed. There are lights on in the window, shading half the street in soft yellow light.

Virgil sighs, coming to a stop right outside the door. He takes one moment to glance up at the darkening sky, wishing that Remus was here, and then he peels off the magic cycle SE plug that powers it. Part of his arm is buzzing nervously in a way that feels remarkable like having electricity shot through him (which unfortunately Virgil knows what that feels like). He shakes it off and heads for the front door.

Locks and Virgil had a questionable relationship at best: he understood that locks were meant to keep people out, or other people in, but considering the number of times that the other kids in the orphanage had locked him in a closet to get him to stop the rain, or the orphanage head had locked him in his room to make sure the other boys could do something worse to him, or that he hadn’t been able to pay for a room at the local hotel when he needed just a bed to sleep in for the night….Virgil had gotten used to by passing all sorts of locks with barely a thought. 

After all, what were locks when Virgil’s body could condense into puddles on command? The gap between the door and the doorframe was near negligible, but he slips under and finds himself standing in a cute foyer, his poncho dripping sadly onto the rug.

If it weren't for the ache in his collarbone he could have pretended he was coming back home after a grueling but successful job as a mediocre mage that everyone at least somewhat respected. One of the Good Guys, with capital G’s who never had to do anything illegal and didn’t lie awake at night thinking about the possibility of dying tomorrow.

((Virgil’s doing great. Thanks for asking.))

It’s quiet inside, nearly silent if it weren’t for the rhythmic sound of rain hitting the outside of the building, dancing on the window panes, drumming on the roof itself to be heard. If Virgil listens faintly he can even hear the humming from upstairs and the accompanying footsteps that cause the ceiling to creak and groan. Virgil reaches behind himself and flicks the lock knob to open in case things go poorly, although he doubts it’s going to. 

It doesn’t take him long to show himself around: the building is really only made for maybe three people although he thinks that four have been living there since Remus wrecked the guild hall where most of them lived. There are pictures on the walls of various members that Virgil recognizes from magazines and framed photos of people that Virgil thinks they might have helped over the one year that he’s been at the guild. They all look stunningly happy and pleased and Virgil drags his gaze away before the guilt in his stomach makes him throw up or the jealousy in his lungs makes him drench the whole apartment.

The pantry is decently stocked for the amount of people that must live there and Virgil helps himself to a granola bar that he likes and shuffles over to the kitchen drawers. It takes him a few minutes to find the one with the silverware, but he grabs all the spoons they have and stuffs them in his pockets for Remus to delight over later. There are sticky notes around the kitchen with little reminders and a few recipes that someone was trying out, a large sign on the microwave to “Logan” about it being a food microwave and not a science one. A bowl of fruit is on the counter with fresh yellow apples.

Virgil snags one as he walks by replacing it with his granola bar wrapper, heading towards the living room which has a cute little news lacrima and several bookshelves. The couch is covered in blankets and pillows and a suitcase sits packed by the side out of the way, confirming the idea that there’s an extra person staying there for the time being, but who had cleared out with the other occupants to avenge the despicable act done against them and their pride. Virgil tries his best not to roll his eyes at their predictability. 

Instead he takes a bite out of his apple, skimming over the book titles in an attempt to slow his rapidly beating heart. Lightning flashes outside, followed by a grumble of thunder so loud it shakes the house.

In a way, it reminds Virgil of Remus’s laughter, the heavy and deep noise that’s also boisterous and booming. It’s a comfort, not that Virgil would ever stoop so low as to tell Remus that; he could just imagine all the ways that Remus would think to terrorize him with the incessant mocking.

The books are mostly magic books: scholarly textbooks that define different types of magics, a few demonology encyclopedias, and at least three versions of a scientific journal covering the ideas of parallel universes. A few of them are more well loved than others, and Virgil can tell by the number of creases in the spines and markers between the pages. He’s never been interested in learning different types of magic like these books seem to promote, but Virgil thinks he has the same copy of “History of Arcana for Dummies” in his chest back at the guild. He takes another bite out of his apple as he plucks the book from the shelf to see what the members of Star Burst have to say about the Water Magic chapter and then--

“Oh!” A voice behind him says. “Hello!”

Virgil whips around biting his tongue instead of the apple piece in his mouth and nearly choking in the same movement. He hadn’t realized the humming from upstairs had gotten drowned out by his rain until he comes face-to-face with the owner of the humming himself, standing in the kitchen apparently finished with whatever task he’d been doing upstairs.

The picture hadn’t done Patton Hart justice.

The picture, of course, had been a few years old and Patton hadn’t been smiling at all; his professional monkey suit and the glossy covers of the picture had made him look like an untouchable doll in a display case, to be shown off but never played with. The smile had been practiced and courtly and looked so rich that Virgil’s teeth had set on edge. He had looked like the type of guy who’s emotions were store bought.

Now he looks nothing like that picture. In fact, Virgil thinks he looks like an actual person: cheap factory made clothes, knee high cat themed socks and shoes that had seen their way through at least three hiking trips based on the scoffs. His knees each had a brightly colored band aid on them and his arms had an array of braided friendship bracelets made with care and precision and something else equally foreign to Virgil.

Honestly, Virgil wouldn’t have even pegged him as a mage if it weren’t for the hip packs that held his deck of magic cards and the star shaped guild mark on his right hand.

And if it weren’t for the freckles and the bright blue eyes, Virgil might not have even recognized him as the runaway heir. ((Virgil wishes he had run a little further than just seven towns away, and that he’d maybe even used a different name when he was hiding. Come on, man.))

“Oh dear!” Patton says as a sheet of rain slams against the walls of the house from all sides. “Did you slip in here trying to get out of this storm? You poor thing, you’re soaking wet! Here, let me get you some dry clothes before you catch a cold. I can put on some tea to warm you up--”

The idiot didn’t even reach for that deck of cards at the sight of an unknown, possibly dangerous stranger in his home. Virgil doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or worse. 

“Just so you know,” Virgil says, cutting into the kind babbling, “I am really sorry about this.”

Patton blinks at him from behind those black glasses. His eyes are so innocent and naive and  “Hmm? Sorry about what? Breaking in? I’m sure it's just a misun--”

“Waterlock.” 

At Virgil’s focus and spell, the floor under Patton bursts into the familiar magic circle spell, glistening with his deep sea indigo-blue color and flooding the room in the sudden light. Water explodes from everywhere: the command pulling droplets from the air, dragging the rain from outside under the door, the pipes groan and ache where the faucets burst and it all crashes down on Patton without a warning, wrapping him up in a sphere of unbreakable water.

The Star Burst member’s mouth opens to scream reflectively, but the water just pours down his throat and strangles his lungs. He thrashes against the lock, and Virgil watches somewhat guiltily.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil says again. “Don’t fight it, please. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m really sorry about this.”

Lightning strikes outside, and the lights in the house flicker threatening to plunge them into darkness. Patton fumbles for his cards, but Virgil’s been drowning people since he was sixteen. 

“It’s like falling asleep,” he says, as Patton goes limp and three of his cards float aimlessly in the sphere next to him. “It’s like a really bad way to fall asleep. I’m so sorry. But it’s going to be okay. I swear.”

He lets the spell drop, and catches the weakly coughing Patton in his arms before he can hit the ground. The heir tries to push him away, but he’s too weak in the end to do much more than slump over, spitting out water, and let Virgil hold him while he wipes the area clean of those droplets that don't belong there.

“That’s it,” he murmurs softly. “Go to sleep.”

Patton makes a pitiful noise that sounds like him fighting it, but he’s unconscious before it forms actual words that can stab Virgil through his bleeding heart. Virgil sets him carefully on the floor, running his hands through the air over him to pull the water from his clothes and his hair. He takes one last bite of his apple before dropping it and the book on the bookshelf and getting out the rope from his small hip pouch. 

Tying up the Star Burst member is unfortunately very easy. He doesn't stir at all while Virgil maneuvers his arms behind his back and begins the knots that he’s decently practiced in. Making sure that the bonds aren’t too tight, but still prevent him from moving, Virgil leans back and unhooks the hip bags that contain his cards and leaves them on the sofa, because the last thing he needs is for Patton to somehow get out and manage to get his cards and force Virgil to actually fight him.

Also Virgil doesn’t try to be an asshole. Card Magic isn’t technically inherent, but even Virgil knows it’s tradition to pass down cards from from generation to generation. If they made it back to the guild it was likely someone would appropriate them for some quick cash, and Virgil feels bad enough about this as it is.

He sighs, checking the clock in the kitchen. He knows that he’s cutting his window for the kidnapping close (“Quick and Quiet”), but he’s also not a monster, so he takes the time to find the closet and picks out a raincoat that looks like it would fit Patton and secures it over the guys back, flipping the hood up to cover his dirty blond curls. 

“Sorry,” He says one last time, as he picks up the heir. “Really, if I had another choice I would have done that. I swear.”

Patton probably doesn’t care, and definitely won’t in the future when he realizes what exactly is going on here. Part of Virgil aches for the narrative that Patton had thought was going on: that he was just a traveler caught in the storm having gotten turned around and lost and walked into the first place he found for solace. Tea with Patton sounded like it would have been lovely, homey, and cozy in a way that Virgil had never experienced before-- a dream that he had spent most of his teen years wishing would actually happen when he crawled his way into a new city.

He opens the front door to the house and carefully steps out into the rain again, making sure to regulate his internal water temperature to something he thinks might be “warm” enough to keep Patton from freezing on their journey. 

His magic cycle is waiting patiently and Virgil sets both of them up gently with Patton sitting in his lap, with Patton resting against his chest, sleeping soundly with the rain hitting the hood of his jacket softly. Virgil straps on the SE plug again, hits the ignition, and swings back into the road, back the way that he had come into town without a single person peeking out of their curtains.

“For Remus,” Virgil whispers to himself. “Rule Four, for Remus.”

Luckily there’s still a two hour drive to Chimera Tongue’s Secondary Guild Hall, and Virgil can spend all of it imagining the faces of Patton’s friends when they come back to find him missing without a trace.

[Next Chapter]

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #fairy tail #because I have no self control #kidnapping #drowning #Virgil is a water mage #Patton is a card mage

[jwillowwolf]

Magic and Miracles - Chapter 3

Sanders Sides Big Bang fic, Chapter 3! < Previous Chapter | Next Chapter > | Masterlist Summary: “Remy? Remy? Remington? Oi, Remy, wake up!” Virgil said, shaking the snoring man.

“Huh? Where’s the dragon?”

“Here,” Janus answered.

“Eh? Oh, hey Snake-Eye, Wolfie, Lo, Violent.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “You weren’t responding to the gentle shaking.”

“That’s no reason to make a man think there’s an earthquake.” Warning/s: food mention. Characters: Logan, Remy, OC, Virgil, Roman, Remus, Patton, Janus. Tag List:@theimprobabledreamersworld @remy-please-come-back

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3 | Lessons Begin

Waking up, walking to the dining hall, and eating breakfast had been uneventful. Logan felt like the atmosphere was relatively peaceful despite the tension from last night. Then again, everyone was still rather groggy from sleep, so he wasn’t going to make any assumptions yet.

Once the seven students had reached the classroom though, they seemed much more awake, aware, and eager to learn about the mysteries behind magic. They all sat at the desks they had claimed the day before and waited silently as Remy came into the room. Remy looked at them with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you all in trouble already? I’ve never known kids to be quiet without adults shouting for them to be so… never mind, let’s get this lesson started. The first spell that all young magic users should know is Stat Check. Do you know what that is?”

The class shook their heads no.

“Good! Because it’s meant to be a closely guarded secret. Never written down or spoken of among anyone but wizards and their first-year apprentices. Before I can even teach it to you, you need to solemnly swear to me that you shall guard this secret as fiercely as all mages before you.”

“That seems rather dramatic,” Janus commented.

“This is magic we’re talking about! Of course, it’s dramatic,” Remy said with a grin. “Now, swear that you’ll keep this secret locked inside your soul.”

The class did as Remy asked, with a bit of speculation but agreement all the same. Unfortunately, I can not repeat the spell, but I can tell you that it is activated by holding a finger to your wrist and saying the ‘activation’ word which I shall from here on censor as ‘stats’.

Remy demonstrated the spell and once he said stats a sheet of light projected from his wrist. Written on the sheet of light was:

Remington Animosni

Titles: Lord Animosni, Friend of the Crown, Expert Wizard, +...

MP: 52 - Full

HP: 100 - Full

Skills: Magic, Potion Making, Charisma, +...

“So this is your main status board,” Remy explained. “It shows your name, titles, MP aka magic points, HP aka health points, and skills. You can interact with it by tapping on whatever to expand the information on it.”

Remy demonstrated this by tapping on the title Expert Wizard, which caused the screen to change to this:

Expert Wizard.

Title earned by increasing MP above 45. Perks: increased HP. Drawbacks: none.

“This is how you can better understand your own magical capacity and skill set. If you want to view your stats privately, then just say S stats. If you want to see someone else’s stats then say X stats while pointing your wrist at the person you want to check. You will only be able to see their name, HP, and MP, but that’s still good to know if you’re perhaps fighting them.”

“Why would magic-users fight one another?” Patton asked.

Remy sighed. “The world is a complicated place, Pat. But never mind that. Try checking your stats, everyone.”

The students nodded then tried out the spells for themselves. All opting to view their stats privately. Logan opened his and read it critically.

Logan Picani

Titles: Loyal Friend, Loving Son, Apprentice Wizard.

MP: 10 - full

HP: 40 - full

Skills: Magic, Baking, Student, +...

He raised an eyebrow curiously and tapped on the skill Student.

Student.

Level: 23/100

Rare Skill. Perks: faster reading and comprehension, easily picks up new skills. Drawbacks: none.

That seems like a good skill to have. Logan wondered if it was the reason for his ability to teach himself so well. He tapped the word again and the screen changed back to the main status board. Then he tapped onto the title Apprentice Wizard.

Apprentice Wizard.

Title Earned by unlocking the skill Magic. Perks: MP access. Drawbacks: HP conversion.

“Um, Mr Ainmosni?”

“It’s Remy, kid. What’s up?”

“What does the drawback HP conversion mean?”

“Ah, well, if you run out of MP during casting a spell, then your HP will automatically be turned into MP. This is a drawback because it can mean draining your HP to below five, which causes you to fall unconscious and die if it reaches zero.” Remy explained.

“Isn’t there a way to stop that from happening?” Willow asked.

Remy shook his head. “It’s an automatic drawback that comes with becoming an apprentice wizard. There’s no way to stop it apart from being conscious of what spells you’re using and how much MP they take. Calculating this will hopefully help you to keep from draining yourselves, so keep that in mind when you’re trying out new spells, kay?”

Everyone nodded.

“Okay, now that you’re more familiar with your stats, let’s do a quick assessment of your magical knowledge, shall we? What are the basic magical categories… Virgil?”

“Rock, animals, water, plants, fire, air, healing, and mind.”

“Correct. Logan, why do these categories exist?”

“They are the eight-core magics. All spells fall under at least one category, and depending on which there will be a different Initiation Word.”

“Correct. Willow, what are the eight Initiation Words?”

“Mowntayn for rock, Pawyng for animal, Ignyght for fire, Groh for plants, um... Rayne for water, Stahwynd for air, Embraes for healing, and... Wysdome for mind.”

“Right. Janus, how is a spell cast?”

“You say the initiation word, draw whatever runes are necessary, then end off with the sealing word.”

“Good. Patton, why do we use runes?”

“The runes represent what specific spell you want to cast.”

“Yep. Remus, how many runes are there?”

“A million?”

“Close enough. Roman, what is the sealing word?”

“Solhart.”

“Correct! Now,” Remy grinned. “Let’s get to the tough stuff.”

The following days were pretty much the same as this one. The class either revised what basics they knew or Remy explained what they didn’t know. They practised pronunciation, studied runes, and learnt about different potion ingredients. Within the first month, the kids had pretty much memorised the basics of magic.

Logan had visited home every weekend and told his dad and Everleigh about it all, but his eagerness from that first week seemed to be slowly wearing out as the class did nothing new. He had thought that today was going to be the same, but instead of leading the students to the classroom this morning, Remy led them to the gardens.

“Uh, Remy? Where are we going?” Roman asked.

“Today, you kids will be going on your first quest,” Remy announced.

The group perked up. “Quest?”

“Yep. I’m confident in your understanding of basic magic, so I am going to let you go off on your own to find some potion ingredients for our first potion making class.”

Remy pulled out seven different pieces of paper. “I’ve made each of you a checklist for what we will need, and while you all have different items, I hope you’ll work together to find what you need. Oh, and before I send you off, I need to teach you a new spell. Inventory.”

Remy stopped and the kids circled around him to watch as he demonstrated the new spell. He picked up a stone and held it in front of him. “Stawynd.” with the indigo light that flowed from his fingertip, he drew a rune that looked like a locked box onto the stone. “Solhart.”

The rune turned white and then vanished with the stone, causing the students to gasp.

“Where did it go?”

“Right here.”

Remy opened his status board and showed the kids a small icon in the corner of the screen that looked like the rune he had drawn. He tapped on this icon and the screen changed to show a bunch of different slots, mostly empty apart from two. One with a picture of Remy’s flask and the other a picture of the stone from before.

“This is an inventory,” Remy explained. “You can put different items into each slot, and depending on your proficiency you will have more or fewer slots. To add items to your inventory, you do as I did to the stone. And to take them back out, you just double-tap,” Remy tapped the stone and it reappeared in his hand. “Tada! Okay, you try with your lists.”

Everyone tried out the new spell and practised it a few times before Remy let them all go on their quest. They went out a gate by the fence that seemed almost hidden and set off into the deep dark woods. Of course, it wasn’t very dark since the sun was shining brightly in the sky, and filtered through the trees to light their way.

“Should we check what each of our individual lists says?” Logan asked.

Patton nodded agreeingly. “Yeah, then we can keep an eye out for the different things.”

“Actually, I think we should just look for our own stuff. More things to look out for means we might miss our own.” Roman said.

Willow frowned. “But this is meant to be a group project.”

“Technically, Remy said he hoped we’d work together.” Remus pointed out.

“I have an idea,” Janus suggested. “Let’s work in teams.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I just said that would be hard.”

“I mean smaller teams. One team works individually and the other works together, then we’ll see which way is better.”

“How are we going to split up though? There are seven of us.” Virgil pointed out.

“We can have a team of four for the working-together group. That’s four people working together but also the team of three will have fewer things to find, so It works out fairly.”

“Well, how are we choosing teams then?” Patton asked.

“Well, obviously I would be one of the team leaders. I’m a natural-born leader.” Roman declared.

“Yes, the leader of the losing team, because I’ll be leading the winning team.” Janus states.

“Remus and Patton are with me, and we’ll be the individuals.”

“Sounds good. We’ll see you three later then.” Janus said before walking away from the group.

Virgil, Logan, and Willow followed after them till the four were out of earshot. “So, lists?”

“I have blackroot, ginfleck, and wild ginger,” Willow reported.

Virgil frowned. “What’s ginfleck?”

“A medicinal herb used commonly in potions for stomach aches,” Logan replied. “It looks like a sunflower but pink.”

“Why not call it a pink sunflower then?”

“Because… I honestly don’t know.”

“Logan, you live nearby here right?” Janus asked.

“In town, but yes.”

“Any idea where we could find some of this?”

“Well, I think I remember seeing a ginfleck patch somewhere along the road.”

“Let’s go there first then. We can keep an eye out for everything else along the way.” Virgil said, turning in the direction of the road.

And so they went and collected the pink sunflowers and everything else on their lists. It was only late afternoon by the time they returned to the house, but they found Remy lying on a hammock in the garden, napping in the sun.

“Remy? Remy? Remington? Oi, Remy, wake up!” Virgil said, shaking the snoring man.

“Huh? Where’s the dragon?”

“Here,” Janus answered.

“Eh? Oh, hey Snake-Eye, Wolfie, Lo, Violent.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “You weren’t responding to the gentle shaking.”

“That’s no reason to make a man think there’s an earthquake.”

“Whatever. Have the others come back yet?”

Remy shrugged. “I think the twins are in the house.”

“Patton wasn’t with them?” Willow asked.

“No. Did you all split up?”

“Yes, but we didn’t think they would split up. We divided ourselves into two teams.” Janus stated.

“Well, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about and Pat will be back soon. Why don’t you guys head inside and get some lunch.” Remy suggested.

The kids exchanged anxious glances but nodded and headed off to the dining room. While they were not exactly a close group of friends, the one person who’d befriended each of them was Patton. He was a kind little ball of sunshine and no one wanted any harm to come to him. Once they were inside the house, the four found Remus worriedly pacing by the door and Roman gloomily watching her from the corner.

Remus paused. “Did you guys see Patton?”

“No. Did the three of you split up?”

“I thought we could cover more ground that way,” Roman answered. “This is all my fault.”

“Let’s not go jumping to conclusions just yet,” Logan said. “Maybe he couldn’t find one of his items?”

“No. I saw Pat’s list before we split up. They were three common types of wild berries that he could have found easily.” Remus declared.

“You’re sure?” Willow asked.

“I saw them all over while I was getting my stuff.”

“He must be lost. It’s rather easy with how thick these woods are,” Virgil said.

“We need to find him,” Janus declared. “We’ve got to go back and look for him.”

“Where and how though? He could be anywhere,” Roman said with clear fear in his tone.

“Willow can track him. They’ve been trained in finding lost people.”

“Yeah, but I’d need a scent to go off of.”

“Like from clothes?” Remus asked.

“Clothes, or a personal item he keeps close.”

Remus ran away then returned in record time with a teal blanket. “Would this work?”

Willow took the item and smelt it. “Yes, this is perfect.”

“We might have to sneak past Remy, in case he tries to stop us.” Janus said.

“There’s another gate that’s closer to the house that we can get through.” Virgil declared.

“Who’s we though? We’re going to need to choose who is a part of this rescue.” Roman pointed out.

“I don’t think any of us are willing to stay behind, not if we could help. Patton may be in danger, and his getting lost is evidence enough that no one should venture off on their own. We need to work as a team here. A real team.” Logan stated.

Janus looked at the twins. “I’m willing to call a truce in the name of teamwork if you are.”

Roman nodded in agreement and Remus grinned. “Let’s go save Pat!”

The group followed Virgil outside and through the second hidden gate. From there, Willow took the lead as she sniffed out Patton’s scent. The group grew anxious the further Willow led them. Patton had gone quite far, from the looks of it, but it felt like something was wrong.

“Why would he have gone so far?” Logan wondered.

“I hate to suggest it, but something may have chased him,” Janus said and Willow nodded agreeingly.

“Wouldn’t that leave a scent of its own?”

“Yes, but I can’t discern anything. There are a lot of smells out here.”

“Can you smell anything?” Roman asked Janus.

“No. I can’t smell at all.”

“What?”

“I’m a dragon. We don’t have a sense of smell like humans do. We use a special organ on the roof of our mouths.”

“Aren’t you half-human?”

“That just makes it easier to shift between my humanoid and dragon form. There aren’t many other differences.”

“Wait, do you hear that?”

The team paused and listened. The only sounds Logan could make out were the normal ambience of the forest. But then he heard it.

“Hello? Is anyone up there?”

“Patton?!” Remus bolted towards the voice, the others followed him close behind.

He came to stop at the edge of a hole and looked down. “Patton? How did you get down there?”

“Remus! Hi! I jumped.”

“You jumped? From this height?” Janus asked, eyeing the drop disapprovingly.

The hole looked like the beginnings of a well, around three stories deep and some stones piled like a wall around the one side. Either the well-maker had abandoned their project halfway, or half of the well had mysteriously been taken away. That wasn’t important though, because right now the team had to figure out how to get Patton back up.

“I’m fine! The water was here to break my fall!”

“Why did you jump in the first place?” Roman demanded.

“I was being chased by some bees.” Patton sheepishly admitted. “My mom always told me, if that happens then you should get below water, quickly. Bees don’t like water.”

“How did you antagonise these bees?” Logan inquired.

“I was trying to get some honey for Remus.”

“Aw, Pat, that’s really sweet. But I’ve been worried sick about where you went!”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. You’re safe now. Um, how do we get him back up though?” Remus asked the group.

“I can grow a long strong vine to use as rope for us to hoist him up,” Roman suggested.

Janus nodded. “Well then, get to growing. We don’t have all day.”

Roman quickly did as he was told and once the vine-rope looked long enough the team tossed one end down to Patton. Each of them lined up and held onto the other end then pulled to get him out of the hole. With all six of them working together, it was a quick and easy task. Once Patton was clear of the well, Remus attacked him with a hug, and he thanked everyone for coming to rescue him.

The entire group was relieved to have him back. So relieved that they didn’t feel any worry, until they returned to the manor and came face to face with Remy.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was? You didn’t even suggest you were going out! And what do I find? Not only one of my students is missing- all of them are! Gone without a trace! Like, poof, never there! What were you thinking? Actually, scratch that were you even thinking?!”

He went on like that until dinner time and the kids decided that among all the lessons they’d learned today, ‘Don’t Freak Remy Out’, is now at the top. Also, maybe it would be better to stick together than separate. They made a good team when their prejudices weren’t getting in the way. But above all, they should never freak Remy out.

---

A/N: thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this. I'll be posting two chapters a day until the full fic is up, so if you want to be tagged, you can just ask.

I'd love to hear what you thought about the chapter if you wouldn't mind commenting. Thanks again for reading! Here's hoping you have a magical day 💜

#sanderssides #sander sides #sanders sides fic #logan sanders #ts logan sanders #ts logan #virgil sanders #ts virgil sanders #ts virgil #roman sanders #ts roman sanders #ts roman #remus sanders #ts remus #ts remus sanders #patton sanders #ts patton sanders #ts patton #janus sanders #ts janus sanders #ts janus #remy sanders #fantasy au #Thomas Sanders Sides Big Bang 2021 #food mention tw

[delimeful]

be unbroken or be brave again (2)

warnings: misunderstandings, technical kidnapping, roman’s overactive imagination, dehumanization, tragic backstories, past minor character death 

chapter 1 here!

-

Prince Roman of Faerin woke up with his hands tied down to a couch and a bitching headache. One of these things was considerably more concerning than the other. 

He dragged himself into consciousness bit by bit, trying to figure out exactly what had happened, and then jerked up when his memory finally deigned to remind him that he’d been hit over the head with a rock. 

Seeing as he was tied to a couch with what felt like a truly grievous head wound, he got about three inches up before collapsing back to the soft cushions in agony. There was a resigned sigh nearby. 

“Up again, Princey?” a concerningly familiar voice asked. Roman craned his neck up again, headache be damned, and was rewarded with the deeply upsetting sight of the dragonwitch he’d been hunting for months sitting on the back of an armchair five feet away. 

Despite his casual greeting, the dragonwitch-- his name had started with a ‘V’ but Roman felt a bit too concussed to recall properly-- seemed surprised when Roman actually met his mismatched eyes. Not as surprised as Roman was to still be alive, but surprised nonetheless. 

“Oh,” the beast said, and then turned his body slightly to face an adjacent door, his balance shifting slightly where he was perched. “Hey, Pat, the fresh meat is awake. For real this time.” 

Roman abruptly felt all the blood drain from his face, realizing exactly why he’d been kept alive. The other human was still alive too, meaning that he was in on this sick and twisted plot. To think, he’d been fooled by those crocodile tears, that vulnerable disposition! Their acting skills were refined; how many innocents had they captured with such trickery? 

“Coming!” There were a few clatters from the other room, and then the person in question poked his head out from the doorway. Pat brightened at the sight of him, which made sense because they obviously wanted their victim alive and kicking for whatever torment was in store before… 

Roman’s eyes flicked back over to the dragonwitch, who was watching him keenly, and shuddered. Patton stepped into the room proper, wiping his hands off with a patterned dish towel. “Hey there, kiddo! Try to move slowly, your head isn’t fully healed yet.” 

Roman grunted a vague refusal and twisted his wrists around a few times, hoping to find some give in the knots tied round his arms. He believed he was being rather discreet about it, so he nearly jumped out of his skin when Pat hurried over to his side. Perhaps he was more injured than he’d thought. He flinched back, waiting for the restraints to be tightened or some punishment to be delivered for his disobedience. 

“Oh, I’m sorry about those,” the voice was dripping with remorse, nimble fingers pulling at the knots until they unravelled entirely. Huh? “You’ve got a bad habit of sleep-walking, and sleep-talking, and sleep-other-things, especially with your concussion, so we had to keep you in place somehow. Otherwise you’d keep running into things, and then you’d never heal!” 

Roman snatched his hands back to himself and immediately scuttled backwards to the other side of the couch once he was freed, ignoring the way his head throbbed painfully. He looked up to find the dragonwitch hovering over Pat’s shoulder with narrowed eyes. Roman scowled right back, his hand dropping to the hilt of his knife— and meeting only air. 

He cursed internally. Of course they wouldn’t have left him armed. They were clearly well-practiced at abducting unwilling captives. 

“Looking for this, Princey?” the beast asked, and held up his hand, the dull edge of the blade tucked between two fingers. He flipped it into the air and caught it with a casual gesture, and Roman couldn’t help but clench his fists. If the dagger broke from such careless handling… 

“Give it back,” he demanded, his voice coming out rough and crackly. 

“Hmm, yeah, no.” The dragonwitch slouched against the nearby wall and began to balance the tip of the blade on his claw. “It’s confiscated until you learn how to play nice.”

Roman felt his face grow hot with rage, but was interrupted by Pat bustling over into his space, pressing a cool glass of water into his hand. “Here, you must be parched after all that sleeping!” 

He stared at the cup for a long moment, and then immediately tossed its contents directly into Pat’s face, soaking him. 

“I’m not taking anything from you, you evil, despicable traitor!” He threw the glass at Pat’s head for good measure, incensed. 

The dragonwitch appeared at their side like he’d teleported, the glass thunking into his hand like a ball to a mitt. “Hey,” he growled, expression thunderous. 

Before he could really start tearing into Roman, metaphorically or literally, a hand patted at his side gently.

“It’s okay, Virgil. I won’t pretend that didn’t hurt my feelings, but we did kinda sorta technically kidnap him.” Pat pulled his glasses off, flicking them a couple times to try and get rid of the worst of the water. 

Once they were settled back on his face, he offered Roman another one of those earnest smiles. He looked like a soggy puppy, which shouldn’t be allowed considering he was abducting people to feed to a monster. 

“Let’s try this again,” he offered, extending a hand. “Hi! My name is Patton, and this is Virgil!” 

The dragonwitch looked like he was going to shatter the glass in his hand and use the glass pieces to filet him like a fish. Roman gave him his best sneer. “We’ve met.” 

“I think I liked you better when you were half-dead,” the beast muttered. Roman sneered harder. 

Patton continued to blink at him for a long moment, presumably waiting for him to introduce himself. Roman crossed his arms defiantly until the man retracted his hand. 

“Well, how are you feeling?” he asked, undeterred. Roman snorted derisively, trying to keep the hopelessness of the situation from overwhelming him.

“I’ve been abducted by a maniac who feeds his own kind to monsters, how do you think I feel?” he snapped, glancing at the windows. There was no way he’d make it before the dragonwitch pounced, but it was better than not trying to escape at all. 

“I— what?” Patton asked, mouth agape. Behind him, the beast’s face wrinkled in displeasure, probably from Roman having the gall to call him out. He tilted his chin up in challenge stubbornly. 

In the next moment, Patton giggled, slapping a hand over his mouth when they both turned to look at him. “I’m sorry, it’s just— what are you talking about, silly? Virgil isn’t going to eat you!” 

He cast a dubious glare at the dragonwitch in question, who rolled his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a sharp-toothed, not-very-friendly smile, “I don’t like the taste of arrogant princes.”

“Virgil! Not helping!” Patton swatted at him, shaking his head wryly, and the monster ducked away with a slight twist of his lips. Roman watched with wary eyes, unable to believe it when the dragonwitch didn’t even bother to retaliate at the jab to his authority. Before, too, he’d subsided at Patton’s word despite being quite clearly furious.

He slowly leaned back against the couch, mind racing. It looked like he had misinterpreted the situation.

Clearly, Patton had to be a powerful evil mage to have enchanted a dragonwitch into this all-encompassing subservience with so little strain.

His manipulations went deep enough to even have the beast fooled into thinking they were friends, had him willing to die for the mage. He shuddered to imagine what the mage would do with a prince of Faerin as a puppet. 

That had to be avoided at all costs, Roman decided as he reluctantly allowed the evil mage in question to press another glass of probably-drugged water into his hand. He had to be more subtle about his rebellion, and he needed an ally. 

His gaze slid over to where the dragonwitch was in the process of perching on a windowsill much too small to serve as a proper seat. He was loathe to work with a monster, but… the enemy of his enemy was his friend, right? Or at the very least, if he could appeal to the beast’s desire for freedom, a potential distraction.

The next time Patton ducked back into the kitchen, he made direct eye contact with the dragonwitch and tipped the contents of his glass into a nearby houseplant. The beast snorted and rolled his eyes rudely, but made no move to stop him or tell Patton about his deceit. Roman let his lips curl up slightly. 

This just might work. 

-

The problem with trying to get through the dragonwitch’s brainwashing was that it required the dragonwitch to be alone with him long enough to actually have a conversation. 

Patton was always just around the corner, popping in on him, offering him food or books or other gifts like some sort of over-exuberant fae. Checking to make sure that he was still properly captive in the guise of fussing over his injuries, and all the while the dragonwitch lounged on some surface that wasn’t meant to be sat on, frustratingly out of range. 

In fact, the dragonwitch was only near him when he was escorting Roman to the bathroom, and he had exactly zero tolerance for any stalling tactics Roman tried. He’d picked up on the attachment Roman had to the dagger, and obviously wasn’t above using that to blackmail him into behaving. 

For days, he seethed under their constant surveillance, always bracing for the first signs of magic brainwashing to appear in him. It seemed as though Patton was perfectly content to enchant him at the mage’s own convenience, so he was simply left to wait in painful anticipation. 

His chance finally arrived early one morning when he woke to the sight of the dragonwitch sprawled across an armchair and the conspicuous absence of any noise from the kitchen. His eyes flicked between the beast and the doorway, wondering if this was his opportunity. The dragonwitch ignored his clear confusion, so he cleared his throat primly. 

“Where is Patton?” he asked shortly. 

The dragonwitch didn’t acknowledge him for a long moment, yawning leisurely and displaying vicious fangs. Then, 

“Pat’s out cutting wood.” 

A surge of excitement passed through him, clearing away any lingering sleepiness, and he sat up fully. He’d had more than enough time to consider how he would approach the subject. The first step to breaking a mage’s control was to force the creature to confront the fact that it was being controlled. 

“You know, whatever you want from me, you won’t get it,” he said without any preamble, putting on his best scowl. “You should just kill me already, put the both of us out of our misery. I’m sure a malignant monster like you is sick and tired of playing nursemaid to a dragon slayer.”  

He looked the dragonwitch up and down derisively for good measure, internally cheering at the way a muscle in his cheek jumped with irritation. Naturally, the creature would have killed and/or devoured him by now if not for the mage’s bidding, so making him wonder why exactly he wasn’t doing that would aid Roman’s quest greatly.   

“Nice try,” the dragonwitch said, idly inspecting his claws, “but no, we’re not killing you. We’ll figure out what to do with you eventually, but till then you’re stuck with us.”

Roman pretended that there wasn’t a shiver running down his spine at the words, instead forcing his expression into a twisted sort of pity. “Patton will figure out what to do with me eventually, you mean.” 

The beast raised an eyebrow. “No, I mean both of us. Pat can be awful soft sometimes. If it were up to him, he’d have you here forever, I’m sure. Be glad I’m here to remind him that you’re still a stubborn Faerin asshole.”

Roman forced back the surge of mixed nausea and fury, instead shaking his head despairingly. “Do you truly not see the truth? You foolish creature, that mage is clearly controlling you.” 

Those mismatched eyes stared at him for a long moment, slit pupils uncannily inhuman, and Roman felt the back of his neck prickle with sweat. After a moment, though, his head dropped forward, obscuring his expression as his shoulders began to shake. 

Roman leaned back, anticipating some kind of blow up. Had he done it? Was the creature awakened?

“Y-- You think,” The dragonwitch started weakly, finally lifting his head. Roman gaped at the sight of his face, watching him wipe away mirth-filled tears.  

“You’re LAUGHING?” 

“You think-- ha, oh my god-- you think Patton is a mage?” the dragonwitch continued, barely able to get the words out between stuttered, gasping laughter. “You think he’s the-- ha ha, secret mastermind behind all of this?” 

His voice was mocking, and Roman flushed against his will. “Obviously! It’s-- it’s the only explanation!” 

The dragonwitch only laughed harder. 

“Why else would you not be trying to kill me right now?!” Roman demanded, frazzled and thrown off-script. Like a flip had been switched, the laughter finally stopped short. 

The beast’s amusement dropped away, face shuttering back to that neutral displeasure. His body had gone tense, and Roman couldn’t help but shy back slightly, anticipating an attack at any moment. 

The silence was shattered by the front door swinging open, Patton stepping inside with an armful of freshly chopped wood. The dragonwitch rose sharply, turning on his heel and storming out the door with a curt, “Your turn on babysitting duty,” thrown over his shoulder. The door slammed behind him.

Patton immediately turned and leveled a disappointed look at Roman, who tried not to wilt. He was a grown adult, damn it! He was not going to cave to the discouraging gaze of his kidnapper! 

“What did you say to him?” Patton asked sternly as he carried the firewood over to the dwindling stack by the fireplace. Roman pointedly did not sulk. 

“I asked a perfectly reasonable question,” he said snippily, turning his nose up for effect. 

“Which was…?” 

Even if Patton really wasn’t a mage, his disheartened-parent voice was bafflingly accurate. 

“... I simply wished to know why he hadn’t taken the opportunity to kill me. Assuming you aren’t some kind of puppeteer-- which I’m am still undecided on, by the way-- there’s no reason he shouldn't take my life for threatening him. You aren’t strong enough to stop him, and my unconscious body certainly couldn’t.” 

Patton sighed, shoulders slumping as he walked over to sit in the rocking chair next to Roman’s couch jail. His face looked deeply weary for a moment, making him seem much older. He began to draw nonsensical lines on his palm with one hand.

“Roman, let me tell you a story,” he started, and despite himself, Roman leaned in to listen. He’d always been a sucker for traveler tales. “It’s about a boy who was part of a big, loving family, living a joyful life in a little town named Port Greyson.” 

The name hit him like a pommel to the gut. He stiffened abruptly, eyes wide. “Who told you this story?” he demanded, voice wavering slightly. 

If Virgil had been the one to torch his home, to kill his best friend, there would be no forgiveness. He would strike the beast down or die trying.

Patton’s eyes flicked up at his tone, but he didn’t answer, still tracing patterns on himself.  

“The boy’s name was Patton.” Patton continued, voice carefully measured, and what? There had been other survivors? 

“He was happy until the day the calamity fell, and his family was killed before his eyes, trying to protect him.” Roman closed his mouth with an audible click. “He ran and ran and ran but the fires spread so fast, and he was sure he’d die and his family’s sacrifice would be in vain.

“And then… an angel.” Patton said, a sad smile on his lips. “Barreling through the flames as though they couldn’t even touch him, eyes wild, searching for someone to save. And I was that someone.” 

Roman started to get an idea of where this was going. “A dragonwitch. Your dragonwitch.” 

“My best friend,” Patton confirmed, folding his hands over each other. “He’s all the family I have left, at this point.” 

“He-- He was there?” Roman asked, a thousand conflicting thoughts piling up in his head. “How do you know-- What if he was the one who set it all aflame in the first place?” 

To his surprise, Patton didn’t glare at him for the implication. He seemed oddly far away. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen him, that day. He got me out and tried to run right back in, even though his face was covered in ash and his skin was peeling and burning. He stayed in human form the whole time, no doubt because he knew any survivors would be terrified of an approaching dragonwitch, no matter what his intentions were.” He visibly forced his mind back to the present.

“Even so, I know for absolute sure that it wasn’t him because I saw the one who did it.”

Roman’s whole body tensed up, all of his attention on Patton. This was the moment where he would figure out if the man was a simple monster sympathizer, lying about everything… or a genuine survivor of the worst day of Roman’s life. “Tell me.” 

“It was a dragon,” Patton recalled, and his hands finally stilled. “A huge one, black as night, that shook the ground like an earthquake when it landed. It took my family too long to understand what was going on, but by the time we figured it out, our house was already beginning to collapse, the air around us hot enough to burn. I-“ 

His mouth trembled for a moment, but he pushed on, words stilted. “I was barely thirteen years, the baby of the family. My parents and my older siblings carried me through the forge-hot fires, and I was passed from hand to hand until there was no one left to hold me. The dragon-- I could hear it call out nearby the entire time, cries unearthly—“ 

“— and full of rage,” Roman finished, echoes of the sound ringing in his ears. “I hear it in my nightmares.” 

“You were there?” Patton asked, a new understanding lighting in his eyes. Roman nodded, slowly. 

“I was. On the… the outskirts. But I didn’t see the beast until it fled, and it looked— small. Adolescent. You’re certain—?”

“It might be that I misremembered it’s size, since I was smaller then, but I’m sure it wasn’t Virgil,” Patton cut him off sternly, before softening slightly. “Super extra sure since now I’ve seen his dragon form! He’s all purple.”

The half-form had had wings and a tail that were much the same, Roman knew. He paused. “Wait, he was in his true form? When did you see that?”

Dragonwitches took that form to destroy, to burn towns and people alike to the ground. Why had Virgil taken it? What had he done while Roman was unconscious? 

“When we were flying you back here, of course! He’s so cute, you wouldn’t believe it!” Patton gushed, flapping his hands. Roman’s panicked thoughts ground to an abrupt halt at the idea of being carried by a dragon. 

“And he didn’t drop me?” he muttered unthinkingly, shivering at the idea of waking up to the landscape far, far below. 

A light smack on his arm made him jolt, and he looked up to meet Patton’s scolding expression. “That’s why he left, y’know. You treat him like a ticking time bomb instead of a person.” 

“Because he’s not a person! He’s a dragonwitch!” Roman blurted, his hands coming up to clutch at his hair in frustration. “Dragonwitches are evil, their powers are corrupting and they terrorize and pillage and kill innocent people! Every last one! You should know this!” You witnessed it yourself, he doesn’t say.

Patton looked at him with blatant pity, slowly reaching out and tugging lightly on his wrists until he stopped pulling at his hair. “You and I are living proof that that’s not true,” he said, voice quiet but resolved. Roman shook his head, not even sure what he was disagreeing with at this point. “I can’t change your mind for you, Roman.

“I know what it’s like to lose important people and want to hurt those you deem responsible. But Virgil has been hunted by humans his whole life, and he still cares for me to the point of self-destruction. He still looked after you when you were suffering the effects of your injury.” 

“He— what?” Roman thought about the cool hands on his head, the gentle murmured reassurances when he whined, and his cheeks flared up with embarrassment. “I thought that was you.”

“You spent a lot of time lashing out at anyone who woke you,” Patton explained easily. “Virgil wouldn’t let me near. He did a good job looking after you, though.”

A soothing hum as he mumbled half-formed thoughts, a hand gripping his as he cried out at the memories playing out in his dreams. Virgil’s words from before rang in his head. “I think I liked you better when you were half-dead.”

“Well,” Roman said, thoroughly nonplussed. “That’s… embarrassing.” 

“Just a little bit,” Patton agreed with a grin, patting the back of his hand. He hummed thoughtfully. “How about this: I’ll make you a deal! The non-magic kind.” He winked teasingly, and some of the color returned to Roman’s cheeks.

“I’m beginning to get the feeling I will never live that assumption down,” he grumped. “... What kind of deal?” 

“Virgil told me he thought you were a skinseller, because you were looking for a specific scale color.” Patton nodded at Roman’s expression of disgust at the idea. “I thought there was probably something different going on, and I’ve got a fair idea now, I think. So, I’ll offer this!

“We know a wizard who does business with dragonwitches. If our dragon has been active anywhere in that area, they’ll have gone to get information or materials from the wizard.” Roman felt a thrum of anticipation in his chest. This was the most concrete lead he’d gotten in ages. 

“We’ll take you there, on one condition,” Patton said, holding up one finger. “I want you to reconsider what you’ve been told about dragonwitches, and give Virgil a chance.” 

“That’s technically two things,” Roman pointed out, just to be difficult. Patton raised both eyebrows at him. “But, yeah, I… I can do that. 

“It’s a deal.”

#sanders sides #dragonwitch au #ts virgil #ts roman #ts patton #writing #my writing #buobba #be unbroken or be brave again #gosh this took forever to format

[siren1song]

So ya know how I was feeling really angry yesterday? I wrote this to cope with that.

Taglist: @acanvasofabillionsuns, @emo-disaster, @greenninjagal-blog, @jungle321jungle, @sleepy-sides, @gattonero17, @izzynuggets, @another-sandersidesblog, @nonbinary-royaltea, @strawberryjellystuff, @hickory-dickory-doc-k, @remusownsmyuwus, @logic-with-a-pinch-of-deceit, @demidork84, @gr3ml1n-loser

Coming Unglued

Virgil didn't like getting angry. Hated what it did to him when he did get heated. Usually he tried to keep better control of himself and his emotions. Tried not to let his magic grab hold of his emotions and do whatever it pleased in response to them.

But occasions like this when someone was threatening the safety of someone he loved? He really couldn't care less. Didn't give a single damn that while storming into prison lightning seemed to arc off his heels with every lift of his foot. There wasn't a single fuck in him when he waved his hand at an attacking prison guard and a strong gust of wind threw him into the stone wall.

The thing about Virgil when he was angry, his storm magic was most prominent. Lightning and wind and rain were all at his fingertips when he was furious enough to lose his ability to care about hurting people.

He'd probably regret it later, but right now when he had a man wrongly imprisoned for crimes he didn't commit to save from slaughter the only thing Virgil regretted was not taking action sooner.

"Someone alert the ward!"

Virgil snarled, reaching a hand out towards the first guard that tried to run off and yanking backwards, wind following the action and forcing the man on his back. Before he could get back up, anger flared in his chest and lightning surged from the air and snapped against the man's chest, the smell of burnt flesh filling the air as the fabric of his clothes caught fire.

Another guard ran off, but before Virgil could stop him the other guards surrounded him.

"Stop! You're under ar-"

The guard who called the initial order to get the warden was cut off by Virgil throwing his hand in his direction and lightning shooting from his fingertips.

He stood his ground, though he screamed at the agony of the burning electricity enveloping him.

More guards approached him, and Virgil let out an angry growl as their own shadows shot to wrap around their ankles, making several come to a sudden stop and a few fall to their knees.

“He’s a dark mage!”

Virgil really isn’t. He’s just angry, and trying to get to the man he loved and get him out of prison just because he was accused of dark magic for being a scientist.

Logan didn’t even have any magic. Not like Virgil did.

A guard swung his sword at him, and he jerked back. Not fast enough though, there was still a cut going from his shoulder to his chest. Blood stained his clothes, cotton fabric soaking and clinging to his skin.

He let out an angry, pained scream and a gust of wind tangled with shadows burst from him, scattering the men surrounding him and sending them to the ground.

With everyone on the ground, some bleeding due to impact with his hardened shadows, others regaining their breath, Virgil took advantage of the distraction and continued his way into the prison.

The second he was inside, truly inside underground where the cells were, deafening silence crushed Virgil. His chest felt tight and he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t let himself panic now. There was still a lover to get out of here.

“Logan?” Virgil called, his voice strained, shaking as he struggled to keep up his anger, keep the one thing that was preventing him from running out of steam, from feeling the pain in his shoulder, from panicking at the enclosing stone walls.

There was no answer. He was further in, and Virgil would have to go even further.

“Fuck everyone’s paranoia over magic,” he growled.

Though his voice was angry, his steps were uneven and lightning no longer arced off his feet.

Until he found Logan’s cell, and Logan was bruised and bloody and barely able to hold his head up when he called for him.

Virgil’s anger flared, but he tamped it down long enough to shape a shadow into a lockpick and start working on the cell door.

“I’m gonna get you out of here, Lo. I promise.”

“Oh, you promise, do you? Careful not to say things you can’t follow through on.”

Virgil stiffened, turning to face the prison warden and snarling when he saw the face of a man he had hated since childhood.

“Oh, Virgil! It’s you. I should have recognized the empty promise and reckless magic,” Nathim said, cruel smile twisting his face into something ugly.

“Nathim. You of all people know better than Logan being a mage,” he snarled, his anger mounting up into fury until his voice started doubling on itself.

The man sighed, pulling his arms from behind his back as he held a ball of dark light in his hand.

Virgil struggled to stay in place. Recognizing the ball as plague magic he’d used on his mother when Virgil refused to go with him. If that magic touched him or Logan they’d immediately collapse sick with the plague that Nathim was slowly unleashing on the town.

“Oh I know. I just… missed you I supposed. I figured I’d bring you by for a visit.”

Shooting to his feet, Virgil snarled. Lightning and wind and shadows started swirling around him, but when Logan let out a pained groan, he forced himself to calm down enough for his magic to pull away from him.

“That’s right, Virge. Calm down that magic you clearly still haven’t learned to control so you won’t hurt Logan.”

Nathim seemed to relish in Virgil’s struggle to restrain himself so he wouldn’t hurt his lover.

...That didn’t necessarily mean Virgil couldn’t do anything though.

“Why the hell have you popped up now? It’s been six years since your last pathetic attempt at getting me to join whatever rule the country plot you had cooked up,” Virgil asked, flexing his fists as he glared at the dark mage.

Nathim sighed, staring at the plague magic he held in his hand and playing with the ball of dark light.

“Like I said, I missed you Virgil. Surely you recognize how powerful you are? You could do great things with the kind of magic you have.”

Virgil scoffed, digging his nails into his palms to keep a tight control on his magic.

“And I told you when you first made that argument I don’t care. I’d rather live my life quietly, Nathim. Stop fucking that up.”

“Oh, I’m the one who’s ruining your dreams of a quiet life? You killed two men on your way in here, Virgil. If you even want to think about safety after that you’ll have to leave the town entirely, and even then I’m sure the king wouldn’t want such a dangerous magic user running free.”

Virgil inhaled sharply at that, the reminder of why he hated getting angry like frozen water running down his spine. His control on his magic wavered, but one look at the knowing grin on Nathim’s face ignited his rage again.

“Get fucked, Nate,” he snapped, and then a shadow he’d been working on strengthening and feeding lightning into during the whole conversation struck forward, shooting through Nathim’s chest.

The plague magic in his hand abruptly went out, and Virgil felt a sick satisfaction in seeing the surprise on Nathim’s face as he looked at the shadow.

Virgil’s shadows were never tangible enough to pierce through so much flesh and bone, at most they could do the damage of a dull blade. But he’d fed lightning into that one, so the sight of Nathim collapsing from electricity coursing through his insides was not a surprising one.

He wasn’t sure if Nathim was dead, but at the moment he didn’t care. Virgil just wanted to get Logan out of the cell and work on bringing him somewhere safe.

There was a healer his mom used to be friends with before she died. Virgil remembered playing with his son on their visits, and they lived just outside the kingdom. If he didn’t stop to rest, he might be able to make it to see Patton and his father in two or three days.

As Virgil got the cell door open and crouched next to Logan so he could pick him up carefully, he figured that one thing Nathim got right was that he would be on the run for a long time.

He didn’t care though. Not right now when he had to get Logan to the healer and make sure he was okay.

“Virgil?” Logan groaned, and Virgil shushed him, giving his lover a small smile.

“Get some sleep, Lo. I’ve gotta get you to a healer, we’ll be there in no time.”

Logan hummed and nestled himself into Virgil’s chest.

God he loved this man. Let’s just hope he’d still love him, when he finds out what Virgil did to get him out of there.

(If Virgil had the ability to look into the future, he’d see that Logan would never stop loving him, no matter what.)

#casper writes #ts virgil #ts logan #analogical #mentions of patton #magic au #virgil has storm and shadow magic #nathim is an oc pls dont tag him as deceit or a shorts character #ANYWAY HI IM PROUD OF THIS I THINK #i mean its got cliche bad guy tropes galore #but do i care? not at all #sldkufhgkdjrh

[nonasidesstuff]

the dimension travel au

aka Virgil’s terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week

so this is like half bullet fic half outline half word vomit but here it is!

this is based on a set of art drawn by @greenninjagal-blog that you can find here with the original version of this au

i dont mind if anyone wants to use any of these ideas just tag me/send me a link if you do!

this got SUPER LONG so its going under a cut

ok lets start with

virgil

his world is medieval-with-magic

the magic here tends to take on different elemental forms depending on the user

people who use magic are called witches

his is storm based (lightning, rain, wind, etc) and is good for both offense (shooting fucking LIGHTNING at someone is great in a fight) and gardening (the ability to call rain at will is pretty nice)

he can also make potions but in his world ANYONE with magic can make potions

the thing is,,,,, magic is illegal in the kingdom he lives in

so when he found out he had magic at like age 11 he fucked off in the middle of the night

he found another witch (a water witch) fairly soon after he left and they taught him how to control his powers and how to make potions

also how to hunt bc hed planned on living out of cities

5 years later hes 16 and has learned all he could and leaves to go to the woods in the middle of nowhere

his teacher had told him about a cottage they had built in a clearing in the woods and said he could go there bc they were leaving the kingdom

they left behind a lot of books on magic and he learned more reading those

the cottage was actually in pretty good shape? the roof was a little leaky but the furniture inside was fine

the outside was a nightmare though. overgrown plants all over

as the years went on he restored the area around the cottage and found a bunch of neat stuff

like a vegetable garden that had been overgrown and wild but still had healthy plants he could cultivate for food. there were also some spice plants that had gone out of control that he harvested and dried for later use

he found out the woods around his home were full of berries (wild strawberries and blackberries. shhhhhh idc if they dont grow in the same places this is a Magic World) and discovered that one of the trees in the clearing was actually an apple tree so yay fruit!!!!

so he was living the good life

cut to 3 years later

hes 19 now and a full-blown weather witch and potion maker

he has sectioned off his garden into 3 parts: spices, vegetables, and potions ingredients

unfortunately some ingredients just wont grow well in a garden and have to be harvested from the wild

virgil realizes hes running low on a couple of said ingredients and decides to make a run to the patches of potion herbs he knows of

he only gets halfway there

a swirling blue-and-yellow vortex opens up 20 feet in the air to the right of him and something falls out

something human shaped

holy shit its a PERSON

he rushes over to make sure this person is okay and.

they have reddish brown fox ears?????

and a reddish brown and grey tail????????

he pokes one of the ears and it twitches

holy shit theyre REAL????!!!!!!!!!

he gathers up this person and takes them home

he puts the strange person in his bed and tends to the minor injuries they obtained from falling 20 feet

this is when he realizes that this person is dressed,,,,,, very strangely

now, people in virgil’s world have some freedom in what they can wear. they can wear whatever the FUCK they want. virgil is partial to dresses and skirts himself

but what this person is wearing is different. the material was like nothing hed ever seen before and in a strange style

(it suits him. its really cute)

he slept for a little over 9 hours

(virgil slept on the floor)

and when he woke he was disoriented and woozy

so he ate a small meal and drank some water and fell back to sleep for another couple hours

when he wakes again, he feels much better and is able to introduce himself

“I’m Patton Baker! Where am I?”

patton

his world is like if you took every single magical girl/boy anime out there and mashed it into one world.

so its chaotic

theres aliens/demons/monsters attacking every other week

this attracts magical creatures like a magnet and they start giving magical girls/boys powers. these are called magical guardians

these people are public figures and are treated the same way idols are in our world (not allowed boyfriends/girlfriends etc)

its a tough job

patton became a magical boy when he was 14 and has been for the past 3 years

the powers his magical guardian are able to give are based off of endangered or threatened animals (yes im sort of copying tokyo mew mew shhhhhhhhhh)

patton became infused with the dna of the island fox

his transformation is triggered by a small tattoo-like marking given to him by his guardian. it’s on the base of his neck

he Absolutely has a magical girl transformation

when he’s transformed, he has the ears and tail of an island fox as well as claw-like nails. his hair is the reddish-brown of the fox and his eyes are silver

his outfit is light blue with silver and white accents and dark blue sleeves

when detransformed he has blond hair and blue eyes

his magical boy weapon is a bow that he can shoot arrows of light from

his group was based out of florida and has been going strong for about 15 years. magical teens come and go as they gain their powers and retire or, tragically, lose their lives fighting

at the moment there are six people including patton

their most recent foe is a monster that has the ability to make people and things disappear, and they’re not sure what happens to them

theyre fighting this thing at night when it happens. the creature has already taken the streetlights out and the teens are fighting in heavy darkness. patton, who has better night vision due to his fox genes, sees the monster about to grab the leader, and strongest, of their group

and he makes a choice

he pushes her out of the way and gets grabbed by the monster instead.

there’s a single moment of searing pain and then the world dissolves into swirling lights and dizziness

when he wakes he’s in a strange house. he introduces himself and the person who’s taking care of him introduces himself

he’s told he fell out of some sort of portal and virgil tries to help him figure out where he is in relation to his home but. virgil doesnt recognize any of the places patton is talking about. and patton doesnt recognize any of the ones virgil says

virgil asks patton about the fact that He Is Part Fox and patton talks about the magical system back home and thats when they realize theyre dealing with dimension travel

patton stays in bed for the rest of the day and by the next hes feeling much better! so he helps virgil around the house and they get to know each other

the day after that, virgil remembers that he really needs those herbs, so he tells pat hes going out for a bit to gather them

he gets about a quarter of the way there when Another Portal Opens and dumps out a person. this time right in front of him

this person is also wearing odd

clothing, but in a different style than pattons

he checks to make sure theyre not injured (they knocked their head a bit but other than that seem fine) and carries them back home

the person is unconscious in virgil’s bed for a couple of hours longer than patton was, but he wakes up entirely coherent

he introduces himself as “logan croft”

logan

his world is one full of magic

magical creatures of all sorts live there and magic is a welcome part of society

there’s elves, fairies, merfolk, unicorns, any you can think of

magical schools are also big parts of it

people who have mastered their magic to the highest degree are called mages

everyone else are called wizards

the way magic works in this world is with spells (think harry potter but without wands)

some people are born with more magic than others and as such have a harder time controlling it when it manifests at around 10

so theyre sent to magic schools where they learn how to safely do so

if they want to stay at these schools after they learn control then they move on to higher forms of magical education to continue learning

logan is one of these students

he was born with a MASSIVE amount of magic and when it manifested he. accidentally leveled his house

everyone was fine!!!!!!! but the poor boy had absolutely no control

so he stayed at a school for people with high amounts of magic and by the time he was 13 he had enough control to leave if he wanted to

of course this being logan he Absolutely wanted to keep learning so he moved on

he was so good actually that he ended up in the best magic academy in the world

he consistently learned magic at a faster rate than his peers and so by the time he was 18 (people normally didnt until they were like 21/22) he was a mage in all but name

so he was ready to take his mage exam

the mage exam is considered both easy and the hardest and most dangerous thing you could do

its easy in the fact that you only have to cast a spell correctly

its hard and dangerous bc its a spell that NO ONE outside of historians have ever seen before and you only have 10 minutes to memorize it. things go wrong Frequently

needless to say there arent many mages and people tend to either quit before reaching that stage or fail

and failure can be painful

so logan decides to take the mage exam

the spell they are given is a long string of words dug out of an ancient book of spells and historians arent entirely sure what it does

so ofc its given to the best in the academy

logan takes his ten minutes to memorize the spell and begins chanting

now in this world, when spells are used a runic circle made of light appears under the person casting

small spells have small circles and bigger spells have larger and brighter ones

the one this spell called forwards was massive and so bright that it blinded the exam practitioners (i think thats the word?)

when the light died down logan was gone

theyre unsure whether it went right or wrong but unfortunately theres no trace of where logan had gone so theres no way to see

when he wakes hes somewhere he doesnt recognize and is being taken care of by two people

they all introduce themselves and logan gets the story about what happened to him

and he realizes hes in a different dimension with different magical rules

naturally he wants to learn everything

so he and virgil have long discussions about the differences in their magic systems

(with patton chiming in every once in a while with how bonkers magical girl powers are)

after logan gets back on his feet virgil really REALLY needs those herbs and so he decides to go back out

logan tags along this time bc he wants to see the differences between the flora and fauna of this new world

they get about half way there and once again.

a portal opens

its light blue and yellow

virgil goes “jesus christ AGAIN??????? am i a MAGNET for these things??????????”

and a person falls out

theyre another animal person. this time with scales covering the side of their face and down their arms

virgil and logan carry this whole other person back home and as soon as they walk in

patton is like “janus????!!!!!”

janus

turns out

janus is from pat’s world!!!! and the same mg group!!!!!

he became a magical boy about a year before pat did and was merged with the dna of a golden lancehead viper

so hes been a mg for like 4 years

his outfit is white with yellow bows and a black cape thing with a yellow inside. his scales are bright yellow and his eyes are heterochromatic. one is a normal eye (brown) and the other is a bright gold color with a snake-like pupil

his marking is on the inside of his left wrist

his weapon is a set of knives made of light that he can call at will and either slash with or throw

he and patton got along rather well in the current time

in the past, they,,,, didnt

it wasnt violent but they were kinda snippy at each other and janus was aggressively sarcastic which pat Did Not Appreciate

but after working together for a few years they got to know each other better and saw each other through low points in their lives and became close

janus was still a sarcastic little shit but now its more playful

he likes to suggest “pushing it down a flight of stairs” for any problem

“man i have a big math test tomorrow with a mean teacher that i didnt study for im screwed”

“push it down the stairs”

“the teacher or the test?”

“yes”

he will also aggressively remind you that Self Care Is Good And Needed

(“patton youve been patrolling for hours every night this week. go sleep”

“but i-“

“go 👏 to 👏 sleep 👏”

“bu-“

“go sleep or im going to knock you unconscious and THEN youll sleep”

“ok fine”)

anyways the dimension monster came back and despite the whole group being more careful, it got janus

luckily (to every one else) this time they managed to defeat it

once again, the pain of dimensional travel fucking SUCKED and janus was unconscious for about as long as patton was

he woke and ate a small meal and fell back asleep for like an hour

when he woke up that time he was shocked and happy to see patton

they reunite and everyone gets to know each other over the next couple days

and then virgil remembers that he STILL HASNT GOTTEN HIS HERBS and they all decide to tag along when he leaves to get them

virgil just like sighs and said “nothing better happen this time i swear to god-“

and they make it most of the way there!!!!! virgil feels a little hope!!!!

then another portal opens

its red and green

(virgil: “GODDAMMIT”)

this time TWO people fall out

the group gather up the two portal people and take them home to heal bc

holy shit they are in bad condition

theyre unconscious for a solid 2 days

Roman and remus

their world is BAD yall

the world is very scientifically advanced, and a group if scientists decided that they wanted to prove the existence of alternate universes

and they did!

but they accidentally opened a portal to a hell dimension and they couldnt close it

so the whole world became an apocalyptic nightmare

this happened when the twins were 15

theyve been surviving on their own in an apocalyptic hellscape for just over 4 years now

remus is the close range fighter with a variety of Large Sharp Knives and roman hangs back and snipes the ones going in for remus’ blind spots with a modified rifle. or if he has to fight closer range he has a modified pistol

roman also is the one to carry their medical supplies bc remus did Once and never will again

they travel together bc even though they cant stand each other some days (remus makes gross comments a Lot and roman likes to complain about the lack of conditioner)

(roman once found an old bottle of perfume and dumped it on remus’ head. in retaliation, when they were relatively safe remus found a dead squirrel and chased roman around with it for a solid 15 minutes)

theyre still twins and theyre all each other have left

currently, roman and remus are running from a creature that caught them off guard while they were sleeping

it had managed to get a few good hits on them before they managed to fight back so they both have a couple injuries

roman has a long slice down his arm and remus has some real bad claw marks down his back

the two of them find a building they can hide in while they wait for the creature to move on and discover that its some sort of science lab

they decide to explore for a bit bc they have 0 braincells between the two of them

what they dont realize is that this is one of the labs that the scientists were using to build their dimensional machines

what they do realize is that the monster found them and it starts chasing them through the facility

the two of them are in really bad shape

malnourished after living on just what they can find for 4 years, both bleeding profusely from open wounds and various injuries from other run-ins with the creatures

they arent able to run as fast as they usually are able and so they get cornered in a room with a large machine

they back up to it to stay away as long as they can and

one of them presses a button

the machine behind them whirrs to life and the two are sucked into a portal oh so similar to the one that ruined the lives of everyone on their world

roman wakes first

he wasnt hurt as badly as remus so the portal didnt take as much out of him as remus

everyone introduces themselves and roman has the his first full meal in. a long time

(he might cry a lil bit but shhhhhhh)

and now that hes awake, virgil can give him a potion to help speed up his healing

thats when romans like “holy shit MAGIC?????”

bc there was none on his world

and they all talk and get to know each other

(the other four are Horrified at how awful his world was

bc like, patton and janus’ wasnt very good either but it wasnt an apocalypse

the next day virgil leaves logan in charge and FINALLY goes and gets his GODDAMN HERBS

nothing happens this time :)

and when he gets back remus is awake

hes fed and virgil gets him a potion too

the two heal and just kind of marvel at the fact theyre safe for the first time in years

also that theres GODDAMN MAGIC!!!!!!!!!!

they still can’t believe theres actual magic

the five dimension hoppers eventually meet thomas, virgil’s talking magic cat

(virgil: “he can think and talk like a human hes not my cat”

thomas: “im totally your cat stop denying it”)

he decided to wander around the forest for a while (he does this often) and only got back after all of the portal shit ended

he is the only cat with magic and says he ALSO fell out of a portal but it was a few years before he met virgil

i dont really know what happens after this

maybe they go try to figure out how to get home?

maybe they decide to stay and live in the woods for the rest of their lives

 maybe they decide “you know what? FUCK the government” and stage a coup to make magic legal

 whichever it is definitely has a lot of found family goodness

can you tell i started running out of steam like 3/4 of the way through

#My posts #sanders sides #tss dimension hopper au #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #deceit sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders

[kieraelieson]

Sneak

G/t 60/100

Masterpost

••^*^••

60

Sneak

••^*^••

(Continued from 31, 32, 35, 36, 37, 46, 53, 54, and 55.)

(When Shadows Bloom)

Virgil had to be very, very careful. He didn’t mind sneaking around, but what he really hated was going out in the open. Logan was sitting on his shoulder, and that was very comforting and steadying, but he still was rather shaky as he went up to the shopkeeper. It was simple. Bread. That was it. Nothing more. Not suspicious. Just ask for bread, pay for bread, and leave. 

And it went well. 

Until he went outside, and someone screamed. 

“Black magic!”

Virgil froze, and then went invisible, bolting away and into the darkest, shadiest place he could find. Logan very nearly fell off, and just flew to keep up with him, being sure to keep a hand touching him to stay invisible as well. 

Virgil ducked behind an old water barrel in an alley, curling up small.

“-gil, Virgil.” It was more the tug of his name than the voice that made him pay attention to Logan. “There you are. You’re alright. They haven’t chased you. Breath.”

Virgil took a few jerky breaths before he could breathe smoothly again. “How’d they know?”

Logan sighed. “Well, your clothes may have had a part in it, though they look more like rags than a Shadow Mage’s clothes… Were you holding onto a shadow again?”

Virgil shook his head, and then realized that the pleasant pressure curling up around his legs was probably shadows that he’d been unconsciously calling to comfort him. “Oh.”

Logan patted his forehead gently. “It’s alright. If these people are willing to call you out over something like that, they aren’t the kind of people we want to stay near. We’ll move on.”

Virgil nodded. 

“You know, you could also just get big and scary, and then people’d leave you alone.” A voice suddenly said.

Virgil let out a loud squeak, jumping up onto the barrel. 

“How can you see us!?” Logan yelled.

From further in the alley, a very dirty boy grinned, showing off gapped teeth. “I’m immune to magic.”

“I-Immune?” Logan repeated. “That isn’t possible.”

“Yeah it is! My name’s Remus, try and get me to behave!”

Logan frowned. “Uh... come over here, Remus.”

Remus just grinned. “See? Nobody can make me do anything!”

“Can you not tell people that you saw us here? Please?” Virgil asked.

Remus shrugged. “If I can see more of your magic. Is it really Black Magic?”

Virgil got down off the barrel, shaking his head. 

“Awww…. Well, if you want it to be a secret, you should probably not do it here, but I’m coming with you so I don’t miss it!”

#sanders sides g/t #g/t #sanders sides #gt #100 gt #my own work

[foursideharmony]

Mana-Shock

Everybody—well, @today-only-happens-once and many of her followers—has been shipping Virgil with magical exhaustion lately; what choice did I have? Only I figured I'd up the ante: life-threatening magical exhaustion! And then the whole thing got away from me. Whoops!

Genre: Fantasy AU, drama

Word Count: 2,395

Summary: Sorcerer!Virgil overdoes it while fighting a demon. Like, way overdoes it.

Ship: Platonic LAMP (Roman-centric)

Warnings: Exhaustion of various kinds and degrees. Risk of death/mention of dying. Very minor blood. Food. I think that's it.

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At last, it was almost over. That much was definite. But it still remained to be seen which way it would end.

Dark energy rippled across the battlefield in waves, each one striking the demon with nigh-cataclysmic force. It was a wonder, Roman thought, that Virgil was still holding himself upright, even with Patton bolstering him. Humans weren't meant to channel that much energy of any type at once, let alone Dark energy...but then again, Virgil wasn't entirely human, was he? Roman couldn't remember how far back the demon ancestor was—five or six generations, something like that, it didn't really matter, he was human enough, he had a soul, they'd proven it—but Virgil was certainly drawing on every scrap of that heritage, turning the demon's own power back on it. It was Logan who had figured out the key to defeating it, and Roman who had chiseled way at its physical form until it was vulnerable to sorcery, but only Virgil could properly handle the energy infusing its lair, having soaked in just from the dread being's presence over a period of time.

Virgil was hammering the demon with its own leftover energy...and it was costing him. Oh, was it costing him. They had known it would, that a demon this size would never go down easy, even if they had discovered how to destroy it, but Virgil hadn't hesitated to volunteer. It had to be done, so he would do it.

Roman was starting to think he had never grasped the true meaning of courage until now. It was easy to be “brave” when you had inherited the Sovereign Sword (against which no evil can stand!) and an Achilles Amulet—when your own survival was all but assured and your personal victory was more than likely. Virgil was stepping up even in the absence of such guarantees, and Roman felt a little ashamed to have considered himself a hero by comparison.

The demon roared—an oddly metallic sound—and flinched back a few paces. Virgil continued to press the attack. Shorn of its physical form, the demon was incapable of striking back as long as Virgil's assault continued, which meant the entire venture hung upon his stamina. If he held out long enough to destroy the demon, they would win. If not, it would recover and they would fail. And probably all die. So far, so good...but then it happened.

Patton's spell—the twin gold-white auras as he funneled his own spare mana to Virgil, to help him keep going under the onslaught of the tremendous power he was manipulating—flickered and went out. Patton staggered against a tree, panting, his face ghostly white and slick with sweat. “I—I'm spent!” he gasped. “No more left!”

Now Virgil was on his own, energy-wise. So he planted his feet ever more firmly and, with a faint growl, doubled his channeling rate.

The entire space of the forest glade seemed to warp and twist as the Dark energy was sucked from the environment and beamed back at its original source. The demon let out a wheedling whine; Virgil answered with a wordless roar. And Roman felt like a moron for thinking the young sorcerer had been tapping fully into his demonic heritage before, because now his teeth were lengthening and sharpening before all of their eyes, and his fingers were extending into claws, and there was a faint purplish glow coming from his eyes that seemed to somehow infuse certain things in the glade, causing the sorrel blossoms and the white mushrooms and Roman's own jacket to glow in response.

“This is insane!” Logan wailed. “He can't possibly—”

And then two things happened at more-or-less the same moment.

The demon exploded...well, no, exploded was the wrong word. It blew away, like the ashes of burning paper in a stiff wind, but the wind seemed to come from within it, blowing outward in all directions. Either way, it dissipated, hopefully destroyed but if not, then at least banished back to the Nether Realm of its origin.

And Virgil collapsed.

There was no dignity to it—he simply folded up, one second wobbling on his feet and the next sprawled on the moss, motionless. The other three let out shouts of horror and scrambled to his side. Patton, stiff with fatigue, fumbled in his pouch for his Heart's Eye while Logan checked Virgil's vital signs on the mundane level.

“How bad is it?” Roman asked.

“Bad,” Logan said flatly. Virgil's skin was so drained of color that it appeared almost gray, and his breath came in shallow, rattling gasps. Patton found the crystal he was looking for and peered through it at the fallen sorcerer.

“No...” he murmured, “...no, no, please! Virgil!”

“What?” Roman begged.

“His aura...it's gone!”

“Mana-shock,” Logan nearly whispered. “He completely drained himself. He's dying.”

“No—he can't—we have to do something!” Roman protested. “A mana transfer can save him, can't it?”

“Transfer from where?” Patton said mournfully. “I'm all tapped out, and you and Logan aren't mages. All we can do now is try to keep him comfortable.” He shrugged off his sky-blue cloak and laid it over Virgil like a blanket.

“We still have mana,” Roman pointed out. “We just don't know how to access it at will.”

“And therefore, we cannot offer it for transfer,” Logan said.

“Well, I don't accept that!” Roman barked, springing to his feet. “I'll—we—I...how much time does he have?”

Patton shrugged. “An hour, two hours at most. His power has already started feeding on his base life-force. Once that's gone...so is he.”

“Time enough,” Roman said. “I will figure out how to access my mana and save him! I swear it!”

He strode away from the somber group, his mind racing. Gaining conscious access to one's mana wasn't exactly easy—otherwise everyone would be a mage—but it wasn't exactly hard either. What it was, was unique to each person, to the point of near-randomness—some people found their technique in desperate circumstances (such as this, he thought glumly), while others stumbled across theirs while letting their minds wander. And every mage described their mana differently. Patton compared his to the reservoir of water underneath a kitchen and himself to the pump, while Virgil (oh gods, Virgil) had always said that using his was more like stepping backward into a shadow and letting it flow into and through him. Roman's sword instructor, Mr. Leo, said that for a battle-mage like himself, mana was just one more weapon in the arsenal, with its own associated fighting stances and moves, there to be taken out when needed and put away afterward.

A sudden thought struck Roman. He drew the Sovereign Sword and stared at it. Its light was subdued, without a nearby force of evil to contend with, but he could still feel its power humming, rattling him right down to the marrow of his bones. His eyes widened with realization.

He rushed back to the others, waving the Sword recklessly in his excitement. “I've got it! Sword! Mana!”

“Slow down,” said Logan.

Roman took a moment to get his words in order, giving him more than enough opportunity to take in the scene—as he had left it, more or less, except that Virgil's breaths had gotten weaker and his discoloration more pronounced. Even an hour was looking like a long shot.

“The Sovereign Sword uses the wielder's mana to trigger its powers,” Roman explained. “I can't tap my mana on purpose, but the Sword can! Can we use that somehow?”

Patton blinked. Then he blinked again, furrowing his brow. “Maybe I can...” he said in a voice that barely dared to hope. “Bring it here.”

Roman offered the Sword to Patton, but the healer only lightly grasped the blade, positioning his thumb on the edge so that it barely nicked the skin. He closed his eyes as a bead of blood welled up around the steel, and Roman recognized in his posture and breathing the signs of the slightest degree of meditative trance. After a moment, Roman felt a minute nudge at the core of his being, and Patton's eyes flew open again.

“Yes! I might be able to use it as a conduit! Oh! Quick! Roman, here, hold it so the tip rests just over his heart, like so! Logan, more trail mix please!”

Logan pulled a small muslin bag out of his pack and tossed it to Patton, who poured nuts and dried fruit from it directly into his mouth, hastily chewing and swallowing. Then he shifted position, taking hold of the Sovereign Sword again and wincing as the sharp edge settled back into the cut on his thumb.

“Okay, Roman,” he said. “This won't hurt. But your mana's not used to being tapped in this way and it might resist. If you feel a sudden urge to pull back, you need to..,to not do it, okay?”

“Okay,” Roman said, his voice cracking slightly.

“Logan? Please watch Roman for signs of exhaustion. It shouldn't take much of his mana to give Virgil a chance, but if it fights too hard, he could still be at risk, and I won't have the instinctive sense of when to stop like I would transferring my own mana. If Roman looks like he's in danger of passing out or anything, make us stop. I won't risk anyone else.”

“Of course,” said Logan.

Patton paused, using his free hand to stroke Virgil's bangs away from his ashen face. “Hang in there just a bit longer, kiddo,” he said. “We've got a plan to save you after all.”

They began. Roman hadn't known what to expect, but he was startled anyway at the sensation of something grabbing at his core, exactly where the nudge had been earlier. He started to flinch away from it, but stopped himself just in time. Still, it felt weird, like ghostly fingers fidgeting around inside his soul and flicking away bits of it. The remaining portion throbbed in protest and tried to push the fingers away, and it took all of Roman's will power to overrule the urge. He felt a whimper escape his lips.

“Patton, this is hurting him,” came Logan's voice, distant and fuzzy, as if coming through layers of wool.

“No!” he gasped. “Keep going! I'm all right!”

“His mana is fighting harder than I expected,” Patton said wearily. His voice, oddly, was as clear as a bell. “I don't know if...”

“Keep going!” Roman said again, even though he was starting to feel light-headed. “We can't fail!”

And with that, it was as if a window opened up before him, and beyond the window was a table, and on the table was an ornate oil lamp, its flame burning bright and strong. A breeze, somehow visible, was flitting in and out of the window, plucking at the flame, which flickered evasively. Roman understood at once, and he reached through the window, scooped up half the flame, and handed it to the breeze, which fluttered off somewhere. The window slammed shut.

Roman opened his eyes just long enough to see Virgil suddenly draw in a deep, desperate breath. Then the trees of the glade closed in and everything faded to black.

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Roman awoke, and there was a window. But this time it was his bedroom window, and the light coming through it was morning sunlight. He felt heavy and slow, and it took some more waking up for him to realize that it was because someone had left three or four extra blankets on top of him.

A tidal wave of memory engulfed him and he sat bolt upright, flinging the blankets away. His head spun but he ignored the sensation. “Virgil!”

“Roman?” came Patton's muffled voice from the other side of the door. “Was that you I heard?”

“Yes...?” Roman replied. “You can come in if you want.”

Patton opened the door and entered, carrying a tray of some kind of pastry. Roman's stomach growled, but the vertigo chose that moment to reassert itself and he dropped back onto the pillows. “How are you feeling?” Patton asked.

“Pretty wiped out,” Roman confessed. “But forget about me. What about—?”

“—Virgil?” Patton beamed. “He's going to be all right. We saved him—you saved him. I don't know how, but you gave me more than enough mana to transfer without killing yourself. Now here—eat up, build back what you lost. I brought you some cheese-and-berry tarts. They're loaded with calories and nutrients, just like my trail mix.”

“Not sure I'm up to eating just yet,” Roman muttered. “If Virgil is all right...can I see him?”

“If you like,” said Patton, “but he won't have anything to say. He'll probably sleep for a couple more days yet.” Roman made a noncommittal grunt and Patton hastily continued, “Aw, don't look so crestfallen, kiddo! You accomplished something amazing yesterday! How did you do it, anyway?”

Roman opened his mouth to reply, but found the memory of how he had accessed his mana flowing away from him. Something about a window and...a candle? “I...don't remember,” he admitted. “I guess I'm still not a mage.”

“Well, that's okay. Mage or not, you're the best swordfighter I've ever known. And you're also a hero. We still have our dear friend because you wouldn't give up even when it seemed hopeless, and because you put yourself at risk for him.”

“I thought you'd be mad at me about that, actually,” Roman said. “You didn't want me to take that risk; I remember that much.”

“Wellllllll...it all worked out for the best, so I can't be too upset,” said Patton. “I might feel differently later, but we can cross that bridge when we get there. Now eat up; get your strength back. I've got the kettle on and I'll bring you some tea as soon as it's ready.”

“Actually,” Roman said with a yawn, “I think I need some more rest first.”

“Suit yourself. I'll leave the tarts here for you; promise me you'll eat something when you wake up again?”

“Sure thing, Pat,” Roman said. His eyelids drooped.

He had drifted off again before Patton was fully out of the room, a flame burning resolutely in the darkness.

#sanders sides #fanfiction #fantasy